Philly Moms

The Color of Love is Green?

2010-02-07T03:38:00-08:00

With Valentine's Day rapidly approaching, I can't help but contemplate love. And when I think of love, I inevitably think of my Hubby. Several years ago, when Hubby and I were dating, Hubs gave me a gift. I know, he is so sweet, right? Ah, the days of dating were so fun. Because you got...stuff. More often than...now. See, now that comes off wrong. I don't mean to sound unappreciative. Hubby is terribly sweet and I'm a lucky girl. He still gets me gifts once in a while. And I'm not a Material Girl. Being married to him is such a gift, that I don't need "stuff" gifts. Even though every girl would admit that it's nice to get gifts once in a while. Ack. There I go again. Hubby: I love you and please disregard this paragraph.

Once again, I digress.

So Hubby (well, back then he was HBF [Handsome Boyfriend]) tells me that he had gotten me a gift, and I get all giddy inside and wonder, "What it could be?" Flowers? Chocolates? ICE CREAM? A ring?!?! Hubby gets a great big smile on his face and hands me...

...reusable grocery bags...

And nothing says love like reusable grocery bags.

Or does it? See, Hubby, in all of his intellect and wisdom, was ahead of his time with this gift. Reusable bags are all the rage now, and so they should be. Did you know that society uses 1 million plastic bags per minute? And that these bags will stay on the planet for up to 1,000 years? And that they cause up to 10,000 marine animal deaths per year?

Yikes.

But back several years ago, when Hubby gave me my first set of reusable canvas grocery bags, they were rare. Grocery stores were not yet making their own reusable bags for consumers to buy. It was a strange site to see a shopper BRING their own BAG to the check out line.

I took his gift with the frozen smile and reticence of a girl in love, but thoroughly deflated by her boyfriend's gesture. Don't judge me. I was young and naive. Despite the let down, I intended on using them. Even if people gave me the hairy eye in the grocery store. Because I was in love. And that's what you do when you are in love.

Change is hard. Since I've started my journey to become greener, change is the one obstacle I've struggled to overcome. For my whole life, I have been used to doing things a certain way. I never took the time to recycle. I ate things that were horrible for my body (c'mon, I've lived outside of Philadelphia since birth. In 1999 we were dubbed the Fattest City in America. In 2009, Men's Fitness still ranked us within the top 20. It was in my blood). I was inactive. And I shopped with plastic, non-biodegradable grocery bags. So, as with every eco-friendly step I began to take, using reusable grocery bags felt uncomfortable. I know, it's only a little thing. But it was weird.

Over time, I was surprised to find that I kind of liked using my reusable grocery bags. It was far easier lugging my groceries from the car into the house. There was no fear of the sturdy canvas bags ripping and food spilling everywhere. For a short time, I even got refunded 5 cents per bag at Giant. And they were kind of cute. Not long after receiving the bags, I noticed more people using them. I could hardly believe my eyes when the local grocery stores were selling their own brands to customers, encouraging them to bring their own bags instead of using plastic!

Now that I am a Momma, our health and environment have become important issues to me. A part of me is sad that I spent 20+ years of my life unaware of how unhealthy my lifestyle was, both to myself and the earth. I want to do my best to give my children the tools they need to make healthy, eco-friendly and sustainable choices. Not coerce them, mind you. Rather, for Hubby and I to live our lives in such a way that our children want to joyfully and purposefully follow along. With our resources depleting and childhood obesity dramatically on the rise, we have a responsibility to help our kids be healthy and eco-minded.

So when my Little Chica came along, Hubby and I tried to make the best decisions we possibly could when it came to our child. For her first year of life, we used cloth diapers. They were a lot of work (and some people thought we were crazy), but I felt the labor was worth it (not to mention it was a money saver!). When Little Chica was still a baby, I dabbled in the art of making her baby food. The fruit and veggies came straight from the Farmer's Market, and on that end, I felt great about what she was consuming. Not long ago, I found some cute child-sized canvas bags at Target. Little Chica loves to tote them with her to the grocery store just like Momma.

I will admit: I am not perfect, and I do not make the best choices every day. But I try. With one daughter in my life now (and hopefully more to come), I try to make good choices not just for me, but for her as well. I believe that it is all about taking small steps toward change, and we owe it to our kids to make changes that benefit us all. As Whitney Houston says, "...the children are our future." Rock on, Whitney.

In the end, Hubby's reusable grocery bags were one of the most thoughtful and well-used gifts I've ever received. To this day, I still use the very bags Hubby gifted me. They started me on the adventure of living a changed life. Hopefully a life that will change the future for my children as well.

So I guess it is true: nothing says love like reusable grocery bags.

This is an original Philly Moms Blog Post.

Snowpocalypse II: Don't Blame the Groundhog

2010-02-05T20:49:58-08:00

Around here, you don't really need a groundhog to tell you that come February 2nd, we're looking at another six weeks of winter. I can't remember the last time that fluffy rat didn't see his shadow. Perhaps if it weren't for the bright lights and cameras shining all around him every brisk February morning in Punxsutawney, PA, we might have a chance to get a taste of spring just a tad earlier. But alas, every year, Phil crawls out of his hole, looks around at the flashbulbs and video equipment, tosses his head aside and mutters, "okay there it is folks, can I go back to bed now?"

Like the slaves to pop culture tradition that we are, we squelch the fleeting desires that we had for packing up the parkas and snowpants a little early. Dashed are our hopes of kite flying in mid-February; of picnicking in the park on a March morning. And we prepare. We prepare to fulfill destiny- the destiny that we have laid out for ourselves by choosing to live here, in the beautiful northeastern United States. The destiny that mother nature, father time, and old man winter have been handing down to us for years, the one that no such furry rodent can take away from us. It is February, and there will be winter. And winter there is. As we buckle down and prepare for what is being broadcast as a "monster storm", "a storm with epic snowfall amounts", we curse the groundhog, and pull out the snowpants and mittens for another stretch of snow days. But let us not blame poor Phil. Phil is merely a patsy. A scapegoat designed to make us feel a little better about the winter doldrums, and perhaps add a little entertainment to the February blahs.

Here in southern New Jersey, we are preparing for another 12-18 inches of snow tonight. Yes, it is cold. Yes, it is slippery. Yes, it is annoying. In fact, for many, it's a downright pain in the you-know-what. Stir crazy children. The mad dash to the market to stock up on all of those staples that you will need for the exactly 24 hours you will likely be immobilized. (What IS it with the bread, eggs, and milk anyway- does everyone make French toast when it snows?) But, we have to look on the bright side of the winter weather. We have to focus on the breathtakingly beautiful serenity that a good snowstorm brings- at least until it becomes a black, slushy, mess. We have to be thankful for the extra cuddle time, movie time, and family time that we might not be otherwise afforded. We need to remember that there are people in the country and around the world who have never seen, first-hand, the beauty of freshly fallen snow. And although I may be biting my tongue and rethinking my words about 48 hours from now, for now I am reveling in the anticipation of snowpocalypse 2, 2010.

Enjoy the snow. Enjoy your families. Enjoy hot chocolate. And most importantly, don't blame the groundhog.

This is an original Philly Moms Blog Post.

A Sick Day to Soothe Mom's Spirit

2010-02-05T03:00:00-08:00

The plaintive call came from the bathroom.

"Mom! Mommy! Can you come here?"

No call of "Mommy" coming from a bathroom ever bodes well for either the caller or the callee--in this instance, me. Every mom who has ever heard that cry, and we all have, knows one of two things is going on: your kid is sick, or they've just found something on themselves that's freaking them out.

Usually, these frightened bleatings emanate from younger children, the ones who need to be carried around and ministered to because they're too young to take care of themselves. But in my case, we're out of younger children. We have a nineteen year old at school with a twenty-three and a twenty-four year old living at home. And despite their ages, they still call me from the bathroom, though usually it's because we're out of their brand of shampoo.

This time was no shampoo run, however, and I knew it as soon as I heard my daughter's voice.

After the second "Mommy," I went running. Sure enough, there she was, hunched over, white as a sheet and in the process of getting sick. She was also supposed to be getting ready for work. Laura started as a teacher's aide several months ago and as anyone who works around kids can attest, she's come down with every sniffle, bug, ache and pain imaginable, all courtesy of the children she works with.

"I can't go in today," she gasped between gags. "Can you please call in for me?" I obliged, then returned to the bathroom and launched into mother-mode, holding back her hair, wiping her face and helping her back to bed when she was able.

Then, we had ourselves a sick day.

When kids are small, as long as they're not too ill and whiny, a sick day creates lots of bonding moments. It forces us to slow down and really spend time with our babies and I, for one, didn't exactly like them, but I didn't hate them either. We'd play games, watch TV and snuggle, just enjoying being close and having a reason to take a day off from the usual manic pace of life.

I felt most like a mother during sick days. The fact that I could comfort a child with some popsicles, toast and my mere presence, reassured me that maybe I could do this mom thing after all. Those were the times when I was still infallible, even as the kids got older, because I could make things better, if only a little.

But as my kids grew, they knew, as did I, that I couldn't make everything better. Life is life and mothers, though we'd fix everything if we could, can't. The kids know it, we know it, and as soon as the kids figure it out, they stop turning to us for everything, because they know we're almost as clueless as they are.

If the truth be told, I think they're a little disappointed in us, too, almost as though all along we were fooling them somehow, leading them to think we were smarter than we are. By the time they arrive at their twenties, they see us for what we are--fallible people just trying to do the best we can.

Except when they get sick. Then, just as when they were small, a cry of "Mommy" carries with all of the innocence of a four year old. And the need, and the dependence on a mom.

So after I got my daughter back into bed, I took care of her. All day. I got her ginger ale, made soup, stroked her head, watched TV with her and snuggled. And she let me. By day's end, she was on the mend. I knew she'd be back to work the next day and of course I was glad she was feeling better, but I kind of wished it had lasted a little longer. I enjoyed that sick day. It really made me feel like a mom.

Original post to Philly Moms Blog. Mary Fran Bontempo also writes at www.maryfranbontempo.com

Love means "Don't bite your sister"

2010-02-04T03:00:00-08:00

For a while, I thought love meant that you break into a cold sweat whenever the cutest boy in school walks by. Then I deduced that love goes hand and hand with silence, because it's impossible to talk to cute boys. Eventually I managed to squeak a "Hi" at a boy, and I realized that love needs good communication to survive.

In high school, love meant holding hands, kissing, and talking on the phone. In college, I concluded that love is nothing less than the heart pounding passion found in romance novels. In graduate school, I learned that love grows when it is nurtured in truth and respect.

When I got married, I thought that the best way to love someone was to do the household chores. To that end, I "helped" my husband remember his chores by hanging a large chart on our refrigerator door. Yes, I was young and stupid.

It wasn't until I had kids that I realized the true meaning of love. Love means waking up in the middle of the night to search under a crib for a stuffed animal. Love means never saying "Ewwwww!" when your kid does something gross. Love means being a grown up even when your tempted to throw a tantrum. Love means never telling your spouse they smell like diapers and peanut butter. Love means patiently reading a book 5,000 times in a row.

Thanks to parenthood, I learned that love isn't just a feeling. It's a choice. Choosing to be kind, even when I'm exhausted. Choosing to listen, even though I'm angry. Choosing to do what's right, even though I'm tempted to do what's wrong. I may not always feel loving, but my choices can be loving.

This revelation came in handy when I had to teach my toddler about love. I explained that even though she felt angry, choosing to act on that anger was wrong. I had to repeat this lesson often, but it didn't sink in until I boiled it down into six simple words: "Love means don't bite your sister."

This is an original post for Philly Moms. Lynn writes about the lighter side of family life at For Love or Funny.

In which I wax maturely about age...

2010-02-02T02:00:00-08:00

Or I don't mind getting older, I just don't want to be old.

Be wise!

A few weeks ago I spent time alone with just my grandmother. We had to do some business at the bank, a simple task but one made a bit more complicated due to the fact that my grandmother has Alzheimer's Disease. Surprisingly, my trip with Bubbe, as The Bee, my tween-aged daughter, calls her, was pretty pleasant. Our transaction was completed within a matter of minutes and with only minimal fuss. While Bubbe was confused, the confusion was not accompanied by suspicion or arguments. Bubbe was actually respectful of me and was able to believe that yes, I am a grown woman and not trying to steer her wrong.

Quite honestly I don't spend much time alone with my grandmother. When she visits, I defer most of her care and the time spent with her, to my mother. My mother ensures that she gets her medication, bathes, eats. I will assist when my mom is still hooked up to her dialysis machine and on the occasion that it is just Bubbe and I but the closeness that The Bee has with my mom is no longer a factor with my grandmother and myself. As we went about the morning it struck me that whatever I do with my grandmother is being watched by The Bee, my nine year old, and that this is truly a case of do as I say, not as I do.

On the occasions when I know my grandmother is coming to stay for a bit, without exaggeration I feel my heart race, my breath catch and feel anxious as I think of what the visit will bring. Sadly, she has become a shell of a woman as she her mind is stolen by Alzheimer's disease. When I look at her I no longer see the grandmother who used to sneak candies to me in church or ride the subway with me when my sister and I were in high school. While there are days that she is sharp and with it, speaking fondly of her day at "The Harbor" (a senior day center she goes to) or sharing adventures as a child. These days are overshadowed by the times when she is confused and needy, angry at not being able to remember or frustrated with a lost idea or thought. We can sit and chat about when she was a young mother and when she was a young person, working and trying to be "cool!" But again, the dark times always lurk, turning her into a confused ball of person, asking the day or time or where she is several times in a few minutes, not even realizing that she has already asked these questions. It often feels as if I am in the company of another child and NOT my octogenarian grandmother as she defiantly refuses to consent to the simplest request.

I wish I could say that trip ended with a revelation that I need to spend more time with Bubbe. The Bee is always excited to see her and I wish I could mirror that excitement. Instead I find that I have scheduled extra outings for The Bee and I in an effort to only have minimal contact. Do i feel good about this? No but I do think that if I can keep my grandmother';s memory pleasant than I can work towards a better time with her. When I ask The Bee why she is so excited to see Bubbe she shrugs and responds, it's good to see her. I wish I felt that way. My thoughts are jerked back to previous visits in which she has yelled, cursed and accused. I want to be patient and start the next visit with new thoughts but one miscommunication and it all comes tumbling down.

Again I turned towards The Bee and try to model her actions. Patiently she runs errands, sits and chats with Bubbe and is a marvelous young lady. I promise myself that during the next visit I will be patient, calm and make fresh start. This is being put to the test with a visit next week.

Wish me luck.

Original post to Philly Moms.

Ain't Misbehaving...

2010-02-02T02:00:00-08:00

Ok.

I was hoping to never have to write this post. But I have a confession. Or maybe it is a cry for help.

*dramatic pause*

My toddler misbehaves.

I know, you are beside yourself with disbelief. I'm sure the concept of an unruly toddler is new to you. I'm not completely certain why I am so caught off guard by my quickly-emerging issue. Maybe it is because I am a first-time parent. Everything is new to me, and I can fortunately still blame all my mistakes on my Parenting Learner's Permit (there are Parenting Mulligans, correct?). Sadly, I must admit I am somewhat delusional. Somewhere, in the recesses of my subconscious, I had myself convinced that I would have a perfectly content and well-behaved child.

Oh, how ignorance is bliss to the first-time parent.

First, my child is far from ever being "content." Little Chica is always on the go, with her two-second attention span, moving from one activity to the next. It is exhausting, to say the least. I watch, in wonder, as her kiddy friends have the ability to sit, for minutes at a time, and read through a book or watch a television show. Some are even happy to play with the same toy for more than 60 seconds. This is not so with my daughter. My day looks much like circuit training at the gym: a rotation of blocks, books, dolls, coloring, mommy's cell phone, destroying things one shouldn't be touching, and back to blocks again. Her energetic attribute is one I have come to terms with. I do not want to label my child (ie: hyperactive, spirited, bad, etc), as so many parents are keen on doing nowadays. She does not need a prophesy to self-fulfill. She is who she is, and I love her for it. Her personality is something I can embrace and even celebrate, because I know as she grows, it is this aspect that will fuel her through life and help her to be successful (at least, that is what I tell myself to get through the day).

Misbehaved is another story. Now, I get it. Little Chica is only 18 months old. I'm sure there are some researchers out there who will say 18 month-old children do not have the mental capacity to reason or understand right from wrong. Here is what I do know: my beautiful, darling little girl has been known to go over to a lamp (which she knows she ought not touch), wait for me to look at her, smile, and then proceed to pull it down. To any researcher out there willing to listen: don't tell me she doesn't know what she is doing.

So I am faced with the question, "What do I do about it?" I thought I would have more time before finding myself feverishly flipping through parenting books in tears, searching for an answer while my misbehaving toddler stands by throwing toys at me. As with every area of parenting, there are a myriad of philosophies on disciplining, which involve a wide spectrum of models. We've seen each of these philosophies in action, at the grocery store for example: the firm but authoritative parent ("I told you, you are NOT allowed to throw the cereal boxes"), the free-spirited parent ("Wheeee I love throwing cereal boxes!"), the punishing parent ("You will get a Time Out for throwing that cereal box"), the non-punishing parent ("It's wrong to throw cereal boxes, and believe me, you don't want to find out what will happen if you do it again..."), the new age parent ("Child of mine, what is the meaning behind throwing cereal boxes?"), and so on. How does a parent know which way is the right way?

To be honest, I have no idea what what kind of parent I am. Should I know this by now? I've only just recently figured out that having the wipes ready and next to me during the diaper changing process will change my life (without me having to change my clothes). Little Chica still uses a pacifier (gasp!), and I have been known, on occasion, to forget to bring the diaper bag with me when I leave the house. I have a lot to learn.

So, after much deliberation, Hubby and I have decided that, yes, we will discipline our child. Whew, I'm glad that decision is out of the way. We'd make great members of Congress, wouldn't we? Our first encounter with discipline was tonight, after Little Chica stood up on a rocking chair for the fifteenth time, and laughed at us as we scolded her. Laughed at us. Hubby decided it was time to attempt a "Time Out."

We had not previously discussed what a Time Out would look like. And since we are committed to parental success, we made it up on the fly. Because that's how we roll. There was an unused high chair in an adjacent room, so we utilized this as the Time Out Chair. With Little Chica's laughter still fresh in our ears, we placed her in said Time Out Chair for the determined length of one minute. After she was securely strapped into the Time Out Chair, Hubby explained to Little Chica why she was in a Time Out: "We asked you several times to stop standing on the chair, but you did not listen. And you mocked us. So you are having a Time Out. We'll come get you when you are done." Firm. Loving. To the point. He's such a great Dad. And cute.

During that minute of Time Out, I thought through our decision to discipline our daughter. I weighed the pros and cons, and was haunted by visions of what Undisciplined Little Chica would grow into as a teenager (it involved nose rings, leather, pink hair and more mocking. I was terribly frightened). When the minute was up, we peeked in. Little Chica was happily chattering away with some imaginary friend, enjoying herself and completely oblivious to any punishment she had incurred from her infraction.

I think we're severely missing something.

Alas, life goes on. We will continue to read up on discipline and parenting. We will do our best to be consistent on whatever method we land on. We will try to keep our sanity. And, I'm hopeful we will find our way on the Road of Parenting. I'm still not sure what kind of parent I am, or which way is best. My hope is that the answer sounds something like, "Whatever works for you."

I could live with that.

Original post to Philly Moms. When Steph isn't researching parenting techniques and wrangling her daughter, she blogs over at Confessions of a Stay-At-Home Mom

Second guessing my parenting decisions: black belt choices

2010-02-01T02:00:00-08:00

Before I had kids I knew exactly what to expect. And I knew I would have the most well-behaved kids ever.

Go ahead. Take a few minutes to laugh people, I deserve it.

I call it the Target Syndrome. I would be shopping in Target, see kids misbehaving and think “Oh no, my kids will never act like that! What a shame their parents don’t know how to discipline.”

I’m actually not sure whether to laugh at myself right now or kick myself.

I had it all figured out, that’s for sure.

Then I really did have kids. And oh boy, did karma bite me in the ass when he gave me our oldest son.

Raising Noah has been one bout of second guessing our decisions after another. None of this is made easier with his neuro-nontypical brain and the fact that everything with him is bigger or faster or grander than we expected; the good and the difficult.

One of the struggles we have been facing recently is that he has decided he no longer wants to go to his karate classes during the week. He’s fine going on Saturday mornings. Same class, same instructor, same kids. He can’t however give me a reasonable explanation for why on Wednesday he wants to quit karate, but on Saturday he’s fine when its time to go. He's not tired he says, he just doesn't want to go.

For several weeks I would get Noah to karate class on Wednesday afternoon and he would refuse to participate. He would sit and watch the class, but that was it. It felt like a very intense battle of wills; a standoff between a very stubborn boy and a mother who was desperately hoping she was doing the right thing.

When I was in fourth grade I took a baton twirling class. I don’t remember if it was my idea or my parents, but I know I was excited about it. I had to wear a leotard, which was probably the first traumatic thing about the class. I was a round child (much like I am as an adult sadly). I much preferred reading to running (again, much like I do as an adult). There was nothing cute about me in a leotard, and even in fourth grade I realized that. I was very excited about the baton though and learning how to twirl it. If I recall correctly I wasn’t horrible at it, at least not during the twirling part of class. But at the end of every class they would line us all up and having us strut across the floor and then do something fancy (or in my case impossible), like a cart wheel or flip, while we held the baton.

To put it as simply as possible, my butt has never been able to position itself above my head, at least not purposely and with lots of help. That part of class did not go well for me. It didn’t take many classes before I didn’t want to go anymore. I don’t remember a whole lot about how it ended, but I do know my mother didn’t make me finish out the classes. I’ve always been grateful for that. And because of that experience as a child, as a parent I promised myself that if one of my kids didn’t want to do an activity like that I wasn’t going to force them. I wasn’t going to just let them start and then quit things, but I also wasn’t going to make them suffer through something that was distressful for them.

If Noah was a typical kid I would have started to question if he just didn’t enjoy karate anymore and that we should consider stopping. But Noah isn’t a typical kid, and karate offers him discipline and structure that he needs. And with his ADHD and super-high energy level, giving him a structured place to use some of that energy is highly preferable to the couch jumping argument we have on a daily basis. More importantly though, is that when he is actually participating in the class he is having fun. And he’s good at it.

Confounding all this second guessing is that I started training in karate a few months after Noah did and I love it! I was hoping it would be something the two of us could share. Mother and son black belts!

So when someone asked me why I was continuing to make Noah go to karate if he didn’t want to, I gave it some serious thought. And like just about every decision my husband and I make regarding Noah I started second guessing myself.

Was I making him do something that he truly didn’t like anymore? Was I making him do it for me and not for him? Was it just too much for him during the week with school?

As a parent how do you judge that line? When do you make your kids follow through on an activity and when do you let them decide it is time to stop?

In our case after a few classes of sitting on the sidelines Noah decided five minutes before the end of one class he wanted to participate. Let me tell you I breathed a huge sigh of relief as he joined that class. It appeared the stand-off was over.

The next week he only told me he didn’t want to go once and when we got there he took part in the class with no hesitation. The week after that it was like none of this had happened.

Now we are back to “I love karate” and “I want to be a black belt."

I weathered the storm and made the right decision for Noah. This time. I think.

Does it ever get any easier?

This is an original Philly Moms Blog post. Kristine also writes on her personal blog, Mommy Needs Therapy or a Bottle of Wine, where she chronicles the good, the bad, and the crazy of her life as a mother, wife and woman.

SV Moms Group Blogs about Haiti

2010-01-29T00:19:00-08:00

Collectively, we have a powerful voice. Our messages and stories of aid, sadness, fear, shock and even hope made its way through the internet and social media tools upon learning about the devastation in Haiti. We want to help and let the Haitians know that they are not alone. In both small and large ways, the blogging community is here, getting the word out and using our united voices and sites to share love, concern and messages of hope.

CLICK HERE TO SEE ARTICLES WRITTEN BY SV MOMS GROUP CONTRIBUTORS ABOUT HAITI ........

Planning a kids birthday in Philly...what's a mom to do.

2010-01-28T02:23:00-08:00

I've got a problem. There are too many options for planning and hosting a birthday party in Philadelphia. I think I'm set on NOT having it at home...the thought of having 12 plus tots running around my home is just not appealing at the moment. Philadelphia has a plethora of out-of-home kid birthday options that are really enticing; but making the decision is rough. Questions keep racing through my already spinning head.

Is this one too expensive?
Is this one too far for pre-school friends and parents to get to?
This place was already used for another pre-school friends birthday party.
Will there be enough food from the list of what is included?
Will this place be fun enough for a large group of three and four year olds?

I think I may not worry so much if big birthday bashes were an annual thing for Elebelly, but the reality is we have not thrown her a full-blown birthday party since her first birthday. We did take her to Storybook Land last year which was so fun! But this year I would love to give her the opportunity to celebrate with her friends from school. I think at four kids really start understanding what birthdays and holidays mean and really like being the center of attention.

Places like the Elmwood Park Zoo or the The Little Treehouse, LLC seem perfect but with a gazillion other options it's hard to decide. It's great to have so many options but also a curse to have so much to choose from. What's a mom to do?

Another thing I'd like to incorporate somehow is a donation to a charitable organization, so that is another thing I'm researching...on top of keeping up with my day-to-day commitments. All I know is whatever we do decide to do it will be fun...and a lot less work than having it at home!

This is an original Philly Moms Blog post. Teresa also blogs about marketing, PR and entrepreneurship and is a soon-to-be published author.

Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky by Chris Greenhalgh: A Silicon Valley Moms Group Book Club

2010-01-28T01:00:00-08:00

Love affairs in Paris, culture, style, genius. Typical mom stuff, right? Join us as Silicon Valley Moms Group bloggers talk about the book Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky by Chris Greenhalgh.

Sophia from Moody Mommy ponders Me? Naked?
Christina from Hooey Critic explains that in German it would be called 'Ehebruch'
Sam from Temporarily Me Dot Com thinks about Love. Elsewhere
Lisa from Hannemaniacs' revels in her luxurious life
Melanie from Tales from the Crib discusses faithfulness
Jessica from It's My Life has a little Coco Chanel flashback
Heidi from Coast 2 Coast Mom wonders how Coco Chanel would have done a mom uniform
Leticia from Tech Savvy Mama finds that member-only sale sites feature Coco Chanel and designer duds for less
Kim from I'm Not the Nanny found herself examining family vs career aka SAHM vs working moms
Erica from wellthoughtoutspot wonders what Coco would say about her unfashionable side
Vanessa from Chefdruck Musings Puts Down the Paintbrush to Find the Right Tool for her Creativity
Stacy from Laptop TV Mom discusses Coco Chanel and Tiger Woods
Michelle from Wife and Mommy reveals her special talent
Ana from Finding Bonggamom has a love affair with pearls
Linsey from Me Too You talks about independence and balance

Silicon Valley Moms Blog is hosting the book club discussion this month. Please leave a comment below and join in the discussion.

Past Silicon Valley Moms Group Book Clubs have included:

See Mom Run by Beth Feldman
Close Encounters of the Third-Grade Kind by Phillip Done
This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Topper
Do One Nice Thing by Debbie Tenzer
Birth Day by Mark Sloan, M.D.
What Happened to the Girl I Married? by Michael Miller
Testimony by Anita Shreve
Comfort Food by Kate Jacobs
Much to Your Chagrin by Suzanne Guilette
It Started with Pop-Tarts by Lori Hanson
Who By Fire by Diana Spechler
The White Trash Moms Handbook by Michelle Lamar
Writing Motherhood by Lisa Garrigues
The Vaccine Book by Dr. Robert W. Sears
The Other Mother by Gwendolen Gross

Click here to read all about the Silicon Valley Moms Group Book Club.

This is not a paid for post. The publisher of this book did provide free copies to Silicon Valley Moms Group bloggers to use for this book club.