LA Moms Blog

Talking Money With Suze Orman

2010-03-10T06:28:09-08:00

Four years ago when my first child was 11 months old, I started to draft wills for me and my husband using estate planning software. I got as far as the page where I was to designate a guardian for my son, and at that point I dissolved into unproductive tears and gave up on the project, vowing to return to it once I got control of my emotions. To this day, "draft a will" is still on my to-do list. So when Suze Orman came to town, I got a little nervous.

CA Moms Must Get Will and Trust! from Kim Prince on Vimeo.

In January 2010, Suze came to Los Angeles to shoot a bunch of different television appearances and a series of videos for one of her websites. Because she is so intent on helping women get control of their financial lives, Los Angeles Moms Blog was invited to meet with her.

Liz Peterson and I visited the set of Suze's shoot to watch a bit of the filming and ask those burning questions we've always shouted out loud to the television but never had the patience or guts to call in to the show and ask. (That last part is probably just me.) I've been reading and watching Suze's work for years, deferring to her website and her weekly MSNBC advice show to glean hints about what decisions I should make. Lately I've also been communicating with her on Twitter, which she uses with surprising regularity and actually replies to people (she DM'ed me a few times to tell me she loves my cowboy hat).

I've often thought of Suze as a role model for grown-ups: not just for women, although she is very motherly and protective of women and champions the idea that women should and must take control of their financial lives. Suze's work applies to all people, and you often hear men calling into her show to ask serious questions. She's genuinely interested in people and also protective - when Liz and I introduced ourselves as the visiting "mommy bloggers" she instantly said "And are you making any money with your blogging?" and gave us that all-knowing look with her piercing blue eyes.

Our conversation about money and savings and financial products was pretty in-depth - luckily I had Liz Peterson, a financial whiz herself, by my side to translate. For more information about IRA's, interest rates, taxes, and blah-blah, see our personal blogs. We saved the most inspirational bits for Los Angeles Moms Blog.

Should married women, especially stay-at-home moms, focus on saving in their husbands' 401(k)s if they have them, or set aside money in their own IRAs?

Married women have retirement savings options from Kim Prince on Vimeo.

Your knowledge of the financial industry is encyclopedic! How do you keep up with it?

Suze fascinated by financial news and info from Kim Prince on Vimeo.

Back when you were a financial advisor, did you ever imagine this incredible success for yourself?

Suze never planned this career for herself from Kim Prince on Vimeo.

Your success really took off later in your career. What advice do you have for women who still have their success in front of them?

Women Come Into Their Own In Their 40's from Kim Prince on Vimeo.

You keep a tireless schedule. Why is it so important to you to work so hard to help people?

People First! from Kim Prince on Vimeo.

This is an original post for Los Angeles Moms Blog. For more Suze Orman visit Kim Tracy Prince's personal blog House of Prince.

DISCLOSURE: Neither Kim Tracy Prince nor Los Angeles Moms Blog was paid for this post.

Lessons from Our Baby Videos

2010-03-10T02:00:00-08:00

It was raining and cold today, my husband was out of town, and the kids and I were looking for something to do, so I broke out some baby videos. They always ask to watch them but my husband and I don't love reliving those baby/toddler days. I'd like to think that it's because we like to live in the present, not the past, but truthfully it was a hard time for us, having three kids in the span of four years.

What I noticed today was that it may have also been hard for our kids. My oldest daughter, just a year older than our second child, didn't get much of a chance to be the favored "only" child. Our second daughter, utterly in love with her older sister, fully enjoyed being the "baby"... until our third daughter arrived three years later. And the "baby" has always had to fight for her share of the attention.

In one video, my third daughter is just over a year old and taking her first steps. As my husband holds the camera, my parents and I clap excitedly as #3 toddles around, #1 chatters about her kindergarten class and #2 blocks the camera. #2 has dressed up in her 4-year-old finery (princess dress, costume jewelry, sparkly plastic shoes, tiara) and is trying to steal the show from #3. At one point, #2 actually pushes #3 down, I yell at #2, both start crying, I try to comfort one and then other... and all the while, #1 continues talking my husband's ear off, trying to be heard and understood.

My kids are now 5, 8 and 9, and though today was somewhat tough (rained-out school fundraiser, fighting over fort-making materials, tantrum at Blockbusters, general girl drama), it was nothing like those early days in our family. For one thing, I can see them for the individuals they are now; when they were small, I felt as outnumbered as they did and I'm certain my parenting was more about the quantity rather than the quality. And most of the time, I feel as though we operate as a complete unit now, that the dynamic of our family is dependent on each person's strengths and unique talents. Frankly, it's just not as fun when one of us is absent.

Sadly, another feeling that came up as I watched this video was one of relief that the girls are older now. When I hear other mothers wax poetic about the long-ago baby days, I wish that I could chime in, too. However, as adorable as they were -- the chubby cheeks and bouncy baby curls make me long for the days when my girls have their own babies -- I don't miss the chaos of having babies and small kids in the house.

After the girls grew bored of watching their baby selves and I put the videos away, I was glad that we had documented that time in our lives, when we'd had no idea how much happier our family would be as the years passed. And I was even gladder to be able to look to the past in order to be fully present.

This is an original post for LA Moms Blog. When Erin isn't ignoring baby videos of her three girls, she writes fiction and occasionally blogs for herself at Poprocks and Goblins and Traveling Circus.

Who's Reading Your Facebook Account?

2010-03-09T10:20:00-08:00

Recently my daughter had an incident at school with a teacher that was both shocking and upsetting to me as a parent and as a community member. As I struggled to resolve what it all meant, how to cope with it, and how to keep my cool, I turned to a carefully chosen group of people that I often turn to for advice and support.

My Facebook friends.

It was a decision that would come back to bite me.

Many of my Facebook friends are my real life friends. A few of them are virtual friends, people who I have known online for a long time. We have common interests or kids the same age. I trust their opinions, and value their sage advice. From time to time, when they have a dilemma, I try to return the favor. But my Facebook account is not an open book. Within my large group of friends I have carefully considered lists. Not everyone gets to see all my updates. Even with this distinction, I'm somewhat careful about what I share. I don't use the names of my kids friends, their school, their teachers. I don't discuss their whereabouts in real time. I don't list all the details, when the details are too sensitive or embarrassing. I'm careful to say when I don't have all the details as well.

But none of that mattered when someone, from amongst my friends, reported me and my Facebook stream to my children's principal. What followed was a discussion that truly rattled me. Not because of the "snitch" but because of the severe response my rather innocuous posts had drawn. Without even seeing what specifically I had posted, school officials demanded to meet with me and rapidly condemned me for discussing "private community affairs" in a "public forum". Without specific threats, they essentially forbade me from posting about school matters ever again. The language used was "We don't do xyz, here at abc. That's not what GOOD community members do." I felt threatened and bullied. Doubly so, because it was extremely evident that I was being tried on hearsay. It seemed rather obvious, and not just because they are not my Facebook friends, that they had not read my posts.

I have to admit I was mad. More than mad. I was LIVID. What I was most angry at, was the idea that an institution felt they had the right to censor me, to tell me what I could and could not discuss, in a community of my own creation. One outside the the school, made up of those who I consider friends and advisers.

Admittedly, as a writer and a professional, I reach out to a larger community broader than most of the other parents at the school. Part of my work that I do on a daily basis involves sharing the struggles I have had raising my kids, educating my kids, feeding my kids, clothing my kids, and so on. Sometimes I talk about the "wins", the excellent teacher, the well constructed clothes, the fabulous new restaurant with healthy kids food. And sometimes, unfortunately, I also talk about the losses. The teacher who bullies children. The Halloween costumes that are inappropriate for my tween. The parent who foils my efforts to keep it PG by airing an R movie at a sleepover.

When I discuss these unfortunate, more negative things, on Facebook, or even in a post, I don't name names. I'm not there to shame or condemn. I am there to gain perspective from a neighbor, from an older and wiser relative, from a business colleague. All of whom offer valuable insight. Of all the things the internet has brought, I think the ability to share and discuss issues, may be the greatest gift of all. At least for me.

I understand the threat as well. I know why the principal reacted the way he did. He didn't actually see my Facebook stream, or read the discussion that ensued but his goal is to avoid gossip, and ultimately libel.

My question is this: At what cost? Would he feel entitled to read my regular mail and tell me what I could write in a letter? Listen in on my telephone conversations? How much information is too much information to be shared with others? Is the very fact that I reported that there was an incident that I was upset about, allowable? How about the information I've shared in this post?

I'm not about to change my practices. For better or for worse (although I'd like to think for better) more communication is always better than less. Open is better than closed. I will continue to be sensitive to the need for privacy and continue to keep names and other identifying information out of my personal private Facebook stream. I'll probably be looking over my shoulder for years to come, following this discussion. But I'm not going to let it silence me. It's not who I am. I'd no sooner stop talking than become the parent who secretly snitches. The same goes for all my writing - be it an article, a blog post etc. In a strange way I am glad now, glad that this confrontation occurred and I am clear on my policy. Bitten, but inoculated. Future principals be forewarned!

What's your policy on Facebook sharing? Does your school have a policy for parents? I'd love to know!

Learning to Read

2010-03-09T02:00:00-08:00

I have a little secret. I never liked reading as a child. I don’t think I ever really read a book until I was in high school. When I was assigned book reports in school I would go to the librarian and ask her what the book was about and then base my report on that. I wouldn’t even read the Cliff Notes (that’s what we used before the internet).

When my daughter came along I was worried she would inherit my early dislike of reading. Since she turned 5, almost a year ago, we’ve taken a couple stabs at teaching her to read, to no avail. What she likes is to be read to. Maybe it’s the only child thing. Why do something when you can get your parents to do it for you.

But suddenly last week she came home from school with a picture and across the top she had written/sounded out by herself the story behind the picture. I almost cried as she told me that no one had helped her. Apparently, she has now decided that she is interested in reading and writing. Probably more writing, but you really can’t do one without the other.

The next morning my daughter was reading aloud, the books she usually just flips through while we drive to school. Again I was fighting back tears. Is it possible that MY daughter likes reading. I couldn’t be more grateful to her DNA for leaving me out of this one.

It was only in retelling the story to a friend that I remembered something about my daughter, she never does anything new until she’s sure she’s got the basics. She’s always been slow to start, but once she does , she’s off at a gallop. That’s how it’s been with reading. Ever since that day she’s reading books and street signs, and practicing flash cards that have collected dust for a year. She is unstoppable.

As much as I enjoy reading, it’s nothing as compared to how much I enjoy being read to by my daughter. And hey, if I ever go back to school and have to do a book report I know who to go to!

This is an original post for the LA Mom’s Blog

When Elise isn’t cheating on her homework she’s blogging at Elise’s Ramblings<

Intervention with my OB

2010-03-08T13:47:08-08:00

My Beverly Hills Intervention

I’d seen my OB probably 10 times by my 36^th week of pregnancy, yet he still would ask me “if I knew what I was having” or “how much did my first baby weigh?” Not only had he delivered the first but I’d found out, with him, about the gender of the second. Now, I’m not saying he should remember every single patients entire medical history but hey buddy, that’s what a chart is for.

After yet another appointment where he asked how I was doing without really waiting for a reply, I mustered my courage and decided to voice my dissatisfaction. “I feel like you’re phoning it in,” I said, draped from the waste down in preparation for the 36 week Strep B Culture. “I don’t feel like you remember me when I come here and I’m just wondering if maybe you’re too busy to care.”

There. I said it.

I had literally gone freezing while telling him this, half naked, while he donned rubber gloves and reached for the OB standard lube tube. “Realllly!” he said, shocked. I went into further detail about how most of the information he needed was right there on my chart and probed him – why didn’t he just look at it before he came into the room? He gave me some answers about wanting to read ultrasounds without medical history involved to arrive at a more accurate assessment, and some other stuff which I forget now but which made sense at the time. But in truth, it wasn’t what he said that made a difference to me, but rather how he took my criticism. He listened. He considered. He responded. I liked how it went and suddenly felt a lot better about our relationship. He’d heard me. Success.

The kicker, of course, was mid-exam when he thanked me for my honesty and feedback and for not “switching doctors before talking with me.” Nothing like a heart to heart with your gynie with his hands all up in your business. I guess for them it’s another day at the office even after you’ve basically explained that this ain’t Staples.

He’s a rather different guy now when I visit. I half expect him to crack open a beer with the way he settles into talk during my appointments. I thought maybe he’d light up a cigarette after my latest – but realized our 10 minutes weren’t that great, just better than usual.

Amy Swift Crosby is the founder of SMARTY, a resource for women-owned businesses. From small group workshops to large-scale events, Membership offers freelancers, free agents and entrepreneurs access to a network of vetted intelligence.

When the time for talk is over

2010-03-08T02:00:00-08:00

I'm a huge believer in communication. I want my girls to come to me. I will endure inane stories about middle school friendships that are on-again, off-again because I want my girls to talk to me. I believe that an open door of communication does wonders for any relationship.

Lately, however, I'm learning that sometimes it's okay to be all talked out.

When they were little(r), I thought it was good for them to know why Mommy said "no" to this or that, especially when it involved safety issues. There's always that chance that my head will be turned and they'll think it's a good time to try their fingers in the socket! So I didn't mind taking a little extra time to follow a "no" with a "because."

As they get older, the issues get a little more complicated than "Mother, may I?" From having "the talk" to discussing friendship issues, priorities, a bunch of things that they throw at me and I rely on some old improv skills to get me through.

I had to have a serious talk with both of my girls the other day about school. Coming off a parent-teacher conference, my nine-year-old and I talked over dinner, and I have to admit, it went really well. I was able to give her a lot of praise and encourage her rather than lecture. We hugged, it was all good.

Wouldn't you know, that very night, my 12-year-old was up until past midnight, working on a paper.

I was able to not say anything in that moment. She had to focus, and it was not the time to talk about managing time effectively.

The next day, I had a chance to talk with her one-on-one, and it started off well. She, of course, hated having to stay up that late doing an assignment, but I thought the problem went a little deeper than that. I had to put down the hammer. If she doesn't start taking her school work as seriously as she takes her other activities, then one or more of those activities will have to go. I told her she couldn't be in her school's talent show, and she accepted that. But when I started talking to her about ways she could improve her study skills and time management, she responded with whining and complaining.

And that's when I was done talking, and told her so. I reiterated the choices and consequences, and ended the conversation. And she pulled out her homework.

An open door of communication is great, and still my ultimate goal. But I'm learning that sometimes, it's okay to close it.

This is an original LA Moms post by April McCaffery. Photo by Ana Garza of Garza Girls.

ONE DIVIDED BY TWO

2010-03-07T11:00:00-08:00

My first born is the typical first born. He's needy, used to getting a lot of attention and admittedly a bit catered to by the family. He's also not typical in that in addition to all the regular trappings of being the first child around for everyone to dote on, he also actually has some extra challenges that create a need for mom and dad's attention and focus. Early on, it was his delayed speech and eye contact which took us to the speech therapist. Then, there was the search for the perfect school which took us out of our public school system and into an amazing, yet pricey, private school. Now, educational therapy and vision therapy are regular weekly appointments with at-home homework. It's a long journey but I have become a pretty good traveler--that is until now.

My second born is no longer a small baby or toddler with only basic needs. She's a burgeoning person with her own wants and desires. I want to be there for her but some days, it feels like there are literally not enough hours in the day. We wake up at 6, are out of the house by 7:15 for our 40 minute drive to school. My daughter, bless her heart, schleps with us despite the fact that her pre-school (ten minutes from our house) doesn't start until 9 am. I pick up my little girl at 1 and usually squeeze in one quick activity for her like a trip to Starbucks for chocolate milk and then we are off to pick up her big brother at school. She naps in the car for an hour and wakes to find her alone time done and gone for the day. We are either off to therapy for her brother or back home for homework which is a long and often draining process in our home. Sometimes, my daughter will sit and do artwork while I help my son with his work. Sometimes she gets to go play with her cousins. And, sometimes, grandma takes her for the afternoon. Then, it's dinner, bath and therapy exercises for her brother. Of course, she gets some bedtime stories of her own but then I have to go practice reading with her brother. She waits for me, often falling asleep before I get back to snuggle. That's her day full of his needs. (And let's not even discuss the days I have my own work to add to this mix).

I feel completely torn. I love my son with every being in my body and never feel like I'm doing enough for him. I also adore my daughter and and feel like she never gets enough Mommy time, not to mention extra-curricular activities of her own. I wonder if someday she is going to sit in her own therapist's office, complaining that she was always on the short end of things in her family. It's not her fault that she's so damn competent and independent.

I realize I only have two children and am so very fortunate that my son's challenges are completely surmountable. I know there are families out there with three, four and five kids (not to mention the Jon and Kate's of the world) who deal with much more severe health and well-being issues and undoubtedly more chaos. But I think the feeling is similar for all moms. How can I be everything I want to be for each child?

My daughter is almost ready for Kindergarten and I want more than anything to send her to the same wonderful school her brother attends but realistically, it may not be financially possible. Everyone around me says, "He needs to be there. She'll do fine anywhere." This is true but not fair. I know, I know, life is not fair. But isn't my little girl too young to have to learn that lesson?

This is an original Los Angeles Moms Blog post.

Amanda Rudolph Schwartz is a mom, writer and teacher who really wants to find a way to divide herself into two. When she's not momming, she also opines about the woes of celebs at www.adviceyoudidnotaskfor.blogspot.com

Every Child is Different

2010-03-07T10:23:00-08:00

I love attending music class with my daughter. I learn so much about her while she interacts with toddlers her own age. She loves to share, she's a great dancer and she loves to wiggle the shakers and play the caged-bell. However, there is one downside, I find myself comparing her to the other kids. I know every mother does it but sometimes I question if I'm doing everything right.

It all started with Samantha. Samantha has slept through the night since she was a baby, my daughter doesn't. Samantha drinks out of a sippy cup, my daughter doesn't. Samantha says over 35 words, Isabella says less than half of that. Each week I was feeling more and more inadequate as a parent.

I tried to do more things to make my child more like Samantha. We practiced more with the sippy cup and watched more educational DVD's. I was determined to make my daughter smarter and more advanced like Samantha. Then it dawned on me, "What am I doing?! I'm not Samantha's mom, I'm Isabella's mom. Isabella shouldn't have to BE like Samantha because she is fine just the way she is."

One day I started talking to Samantha's mom and found out that she was just as envious of Isabella. She mentioned how friendly and happy Isabella is all the time and how she would draw attention to her when she entered a room. She said she loved the fact that Isabella was so social and was impressed at how much rhythm she had. She mentioned that Samantha was very shy and how she wished she was a little more outgoing like Isabella. This conversation opened my eyes to the fact that it's normal for a mother to look at other children and compare but we have to allow our children to be their own person because every child is ALWAYS going to be different.

Today, I focus on all the positive things about Isabella’s personality and development. No more comparisons! I’ve learned that every child should be allowed to grow at their own pace. I don't want the comparisons to make my daughter feel inadequate in any way because she is special and unique just the way she is.

This is an original LA Moms Blog post.

When Bernadette is not shopping for all the different sippy-cups ever invented, she performs stand-up in the Los Angeles area. Check out bernadettelive.com for updates and show listings.

It is not my job to make you happy

2010-03-07T03:49:00-08:00

News alert to my children: it is not my job to make you happy.

Yes, I understand that you will only be happy if you have ice cream for breakfast. Every day.

But it is not my job to make you happy. It is my obligation to make sure you have food. It is my job to teach you how to make healthy choices. To choose to have some sliced fruit, whole grain bread, and perhaps an egg instead of ice cream for breakfast. Except on your birthday. Or maybe Christmas. Or backwards day. But other than that, no ice cream for breakfast.

Yes, I understand that you will only be happy if I let you skip school. I'm flattered that you want to come to work with me.

But it is not my job to make you happy. It is my job to inspire in you a love of learning. It is my job to teach you that sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do to achieve long term goals, like a college degree. It is my job to teach you the value of hard work.

Yes, I understand that you will only be happy if I buy you a new DS game or a toy every time we go to the store. I get it that new games and toys are more fun than the stuff you already have. I know that those commercials have convinced you that you need to have this new toy.

But it is not my job to make you happy. To be honest, I would love to buy you every toy on the market. But I know that you don't need them. I know you can't play with them all. It is my job to teach you about budgets and living within your means. It is also my job to help you realize that commercial don't tell you the whole truth, that waste is not a virtue, and that making do with what you got is the environmental way to go. And finally it is my job to teach you about generosity. The world does not revolve around your wants and desires.

Yes, I understand that you will only be happy if I take your toys out of time out, let you play the Wii when you are barred, or let you out of time out.

It is not my job to make you happy. It is my job to teach you that actions have consequences.

As your mom, I want to make you happy. But if I spend all my time making you happy, you won't grow up to be very happy people.

My fiercest desire for you is that you will grow up to be happy. That you will have the skills to make yourselves happy.

That you will know how to pick yourselves up when you get hurt. I will always kiss your boo-boos, but you will have to know how to pick yourselves and go on.

That you will learn to persevere. Which is why I ask you to try one more time before giving up even though it doesn't make you happy.

I know that writing thank you notes is boring. But it is my job to teach you to be considerate and respectful. Yes I know it annoys you to no end when I don't answer you until I hear a please. But it is not my job to make sure you are never annoyed. It is my job to inspire you to be respectful and considerate.

I hope that you learn to appreciate the humor in life. To make lemonade out of lemons. To find the silver living. That is why getting lost isn't such a bad thing, especially if we discover a wonderful garage sale or a previously unknown park.

I hope that you find passion. Passion for life. Passion for people. Something that moves you, whatever it may be.

It is not my job to make you happy. But it is my job to teach you wonder. Wonder that we can turn ingredients in our pantry into cookies, playdough, chalk or paint. Wonder in a tadpole turning into a frog. Wonder in the glory of a sunset, the hoot of an owl or the track of a snail. And, by the way, that is why I let you play and explore. Why you got to paint yourselves in the house, make foaming volcanoes, fill the kiddie pool with bird seed and make mud patties. Because I want you to wonder and explore and experiment.

See, it is not my job to make you happy. It is my job to show you how to be a happy person. And that I am happy to do.

This is an originalLA Moms Blog post. Jennifer usually blogs over at TheSmartMama where she does post about non toxic solutions when she isn't trying to make her children happy. And she doesn't recommend painting in the house like her kids are doing in the picture.

Vegas or Bust

2010-03-05T11:00:00-08:00

It's been over a year and a half since we moved to Los Angeles. In that time we've gone on one local overnight trip--to San Diego. We lasted two hours at the San Diego Zoo before we admitted defeat and drove home. Going somewhere with both boys would seem like something we should be able to handle, after all there is a 1-1 ratio. It's not like we have three, four, or five kids. But our boys were born with the "unable to sit still or remain in one place" gene that runs in my husband's family. Even my mother-in-law is always in motion, doing squats or just shaking her leg when we're watching TV. So that's why it is always mentally and physically draining to go anywhere with the boys. When we go to visit relatives, I know I will have additional troops to support my husband and me. We recently tried again to go on a day trip to Santa Barbara but unfortunately for us, our timing was terrible and it started raining buckets while we were there. So it should come as no surprise that I told my husband after that debacle that I would never go on another road trip again for the next five years.

I think trips are harder for moms, working at home or at the office, because we're the ones who usually have to remember a million different things to pack. Medicines, snacks, drinks, sunblock, things to occupy the kids in the car/plane/airport, extra batteries for the camera, the list goes on and on. For my husband, all he has to do for the most part is get in the car and drive, whether it's to the airport or our destination. But still, I wanted to do something special for my husband's birthday. I had a surprise party for him last year and we've gone to nice dinners in the past so I thought going to Vegas was something he would appreciate since I said I would never ever do it.

First I did my research as all good moms do, checking the weather for our visit (rain, sadly), the crowds (Nascar weekend), and gathering tips from moms who've done the trip. One mom emailed me an exhaustive five-page list of things to do with kids. If anyone wants this extremely helpful list, please email me and I will send it to you. But what really stuck with me was the advice I got from a friend on the death trap that is I-15. She sent me this link that made me close my eyes to say some extra prayers for protection. Then, instead of Vegas being a surprise (I had planned to pick him up from work), I told Stewart about the trip and he was able to get off work early so we could get on the road ahead of traffic.

Getting out of California wasn't as crazy as I expected. I did see some cars on the side of the road, though, and the constant speeding up and slowing down on the road made me very thankful we were driving during daylight hours. The kids also cooperated for the most part. R, my younger son, fell asleep for two hours in the beginning of the drive. He got up right before we made a pit stop at Barstow. During that time, I sat in between H, my older son, and R in the middle of the back seat of our Accord. It wasn't very comfortable but I knew that H would be content to sit there only if I spoke and sang and played games with him. Otherwise, a few minutes after we got on the freeway, I'm sure he would have asked for the "black phone," what he calls the iTouch. R was at the tail end of a course of antibiotics to treat an ear infection and I had been feeding him carbs all day in order to combat the effects of the antibiotics. I'm sure he felt really uncomfortable and he refused to get into his car seat after our stop in Barstow (where we saw an all Asian old man Harley Davidson bike gang). I had to resort to bribery. I got out the portable DVD player and popped in the Wiggles. Thankfully it worked and it distracted him enough to prevent him from making a mess in the car seat the rest of the way to Las Vegas.

When I first told people I was going to Vegas people asked what I was doing with the boys. A lot of people were surprised when I said we were taking our 1 and 3 yr old with us. I didn't think it was such a big deal because I recalled from my previous trips to Vegas previously (before I had kids) being perpetually frustrated walking on the Strip because I was stuck behind some monster stroller. The last time was four years ago. I think things must have changed because I immediately understood why people were surprised when we walked through the hotel casino to registration. There were no other kids. Maybe it was because the last time I had gone it was during winter break, whereas this weekend was a Nascar race weekend. Maybe the campaign of "What Happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas" worked especially well to reinforce the image of Vegas as Sin City. Maybe it was the closure of the Star Trek Experience attraction a couple of years ago. Whatever it was, there were definitely a lot fewer kids here this time around. Everywhere we went I felt out of place, especially each time I walked the boys past the bikini-clad woman dancing on the table on the way to the elevator bank for our room.

What kind of maniac mom am I? Why would I think that coming to Vegas with toddlers was a good idea? Even if I wanted to do something nice for my husband, I should have found some way to leave the kids at home. It's so hard to balance attention I give to my husband and to the kids. The kids win 99% of the time. If I wanted my husband to have a really special birthday, I should have flown my mom in and taken him without the kids. Instead I had to worry the whole time about making sure R had his medication on time, that they didn't play too much on the black phone, and how to find something that they would eat. Even the restaurant, Beijing Noodle No. 9, we ate in at Caesar's Palace was an accommodation of H's desire to eat pancakes. The only reason we went into the Bellagio was because they wanted ice cream. We went to the show Tournament of Kings, but had to leave after half an hour because the boys were scared. We went to bed early on both nights because the room had to be dark for them. We walked through only a couple of hotels with casinos because we didn't want them breathing in too much smoke (even then they were hacking the entire time and their voices were hoarse by the time we left Sunday morning). We left early Sunday morning to avoid the crazies with hangovers on their way back to LA.

Vegas was supposed to be about celebrating Stewart's birthday but we spend the entire time doing things for and because of the boys. The boys absolutely loved the trip, aside from the pyrotechnics at Tournament of Kings. Stewart said he had a great time, but I have a feeling it could have been better. I think I am too much of a mom these days and not enough of a wife. Now I've learned. You can't really go somewhere and do something that will be both bring the same level of enjoyment for toddlers and adults, even Disneyland. Even with activities we can all enjoy later when the kids are a bit older like white-water rafting or fishing, there is a different level of intensity and activity with kids present. So this is my birthday gift to my husband--sometime in the next year, I will somehow make it possible for us to get away from the kids for a weekend. I hope my fellow LA Mom Bloggers and our readers will keep me accountable.

This is an original post for the LA Moms Blog. When Eunice isn't being clueless on what is an appropriate vacation spot for toddlers, she rants about her mommy life on her personal blog, Random Walk Down Mommy Street.