Rage Against the Minivan

working moms: what do you do with your kids over summer break?

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Thu, 24 May 2012 08:05:00 +0000

After a long learning curve of ~~scaring off~~ blowing through nannies, our family finally got into a great childcare groove this year. Jafta is the only of my kids in elementary school so far, but I enrolled the younger kids in a Montessori preschool three days a week, which has given me time to get some work done each week. It’s been such a great transition for us – I no longer have to find a distraction-free zone to work, I don’t have to live in fear of my nanny deciding to move to Europe or something in a few months, and the kids are in a nurturing and educational environment. Things have been rolling along quite nicely.

Of course, summer is the huge kink in the system for any mother who relies on school as their primary childcare option. Somehow, this fact completely slipped my mind until last month – probably due to the fact that my own working mom (a teacher) always had summers off. I don’t have that kind of situation. In fact, I’m teaching a summer intensive and have quite a few writing projects on my plate, and definitely need those three days a week to get my work done. As such, I’m scrambling to figure out a solution so that we can keep my work schedule in place.

I think this photo by Michelle Kim pretty accurately portrays what it’s like when I try to work when the kids are home. NO THANK YOU.

I’m really curious to hear what other working moms do over summer break. So far, the options I’ve found aren’t so good. I can leave the preschoolers in their school program, which has a summer session, but it doesn’t cover every week. Next year, though, I’ll have to figure out something for all of them. I’m finding summer programs to be extremely expensive, and I’m intimidated by the idea of trying to piece together weeks of summer camp here and there. That being said, I know that I don’t want them here at the house. Having a sitter here while I try to work is not a great option, and I think they do better out of the house and in a more structure environment.

So, working moms . . . what are you doing for childcare this summer?

what I want you to know: families dealing with traumatized kids don’t need your judgment

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Tue, 22 May 2012 11:57:00 +0000

What I Want You to Know is a series of reader submissions. It is an attempt to allow people to tell their personal stories, in the hopes of bringing greater compassion to the unique issues each of us face. If you would like to submit a story to this series, click here. This guest post is by an anonymous reader.

Our sweet, sensitive, brave boys came to us from the foster care system. D was only six weeks old, with coffee brown skin and soft black hair. He slept through the night fairly soon thereafter and was a content and curious baby. An old soul. C was 13 months old when we brought him. He was just teething, but he was an exuberant, good-humored baby almost every minute he was awake. A real joy.

I describe them this way because this is the way the world saw them, I suppose, and because this is also very much how they were. But they also came with histories. Their time in utero was spent homeless and hungry and unwanted. When D was born, his tiny, premature body full of cocaine, he was left alone in the NICU when his birth mom was discharged. When he was returned to her weeks later in a drug rehab program she had checked into, he was shouted at when he cried, denied a bottle when he was hungry, handled roughly and left in dirty diapers. These are the accounts of the other women in the rehab facility that eventually led to his removal from his birthmother’s custody.

C was born with multiple medical issues and he underwent three heart surgeries before the age of three. He spent most of the first year of life in and out of hospital beds and at appointments with all kinds of specialists. His mother voluntarily surrendered her rights and his father continued to visit him intermittently.

Today, I have two seemingly healthy, active, very smart boys. I am so proud of who they are and what they’ve already accomplished. The older one attends a reputable private school and the younger one will likely start there next fall. What I want you to know is that I love them deeply and unconditionally, but they are extremely scarred by their pasts. That time in utero, their deliveries, their first weeks and months of life were tumultuous and impossible for most of us to understand.

Our older son still tantrums and it is exhausting for all of us. He is prone to throwing and breaking and lashing out at us. This boy who has a vocabulary far beyond his years and writes plays just for fun, once peed on the classroom floor because he didn’t want to participate in an activity. This boy who potty trained himself (really!) at 2 years old and rode a 2 wheel bicycle at age three, cannot tolerate having a substitute teacher for a day and will run away from him or her.

Our younger son never learned to nap. He never had a consistent schedule as an infant; he was poked and prodded while he tried to rest in a hospital bed, and every time they “put him to sleep” for a surgery he woke up in pain and connected to too many machines. At three, he knows his letters, numbers, and loves to spell his name, but he cannot take a simple nap.

What I want people to know when they see my kids struggling is that they are not doing it for attention. They do not really want to misbehave. They are not trying to make things more difficult for anyone. And I am not weak because I won’t put them in a time out if they break a rule or punish them if they don’t sleep. They already understand fear and rejection. It’s my job to use words carefully and lovingly, and to teach them to do the same. Therapy has done wonders for our family so far. So have compassionate, thoughtful teachers. We need as much support as we can get, and our children deserve that.

mothers of olympic athletes get a surprise from P&G

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Tue, 22 May 2012 07:13:00 +0000

I mentioned in a previous post that P&G asked me to be a part of a their Thank You Mom campaign for the 2012 Olympic Games. I don’t do a lot of sponsored content on my blog, but being a part of a series whose main goal is to honor moms? I’m all about that.

P&G recently announced one of the biggest aspects of their campaign so far. They have committed to giving each mom of the U.S. Olympians and Paralympians a $1,000 Visa reward card to help offset travel costs, to ensure that every mother of our country’s Olympians gets to see their child compete. Jodi Allen of P&G explains how they made this decision:

“We asked the U.S. Olympic Committee how P&G could support and thank the moms of U.S. Olympic and Paralympic athletes. They told us, ‘help them get to London to see their child compete. After years of sacrificing to help their children achieve their dreams, many of these moms struggle to find the financial means to see this dream realized. This is why P&G created the “Thank you, Mom” gift, which will make it easier for the mom behind every U.S. Olympian and Paralympian on the 2012 Team to share their child’s dream.”

To help keep U.S. moms connected with their athletes and families in London, P&G will also create the P&G Family Home, a private “home away from home” where moms of Olympians can spend time with their athletes in a relaxed, family-friendly environment.

You can watch the official announcement in this clip from the Today Show.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

This post was sponsored by P&G. P&G is the Proud Sponsor of Moms, not just the moms of athletes, but ALL moms around the world. Join P&G in thanking your mom by sharing this video with her. In addition, for each person who likes the Thank You Mom facebook page, P&G will donate $1 to the USOC P&G|Team USA Youth Sports fund, up to $100,000. This is part of a $5MM global commitment P&G has made to support local youth sports in many countries.

DIY passport photos: the best way to take passport photos of small children

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Tue, 22 May 2012 05:42:00 +0000

All six of us have expired passports, and I have a trip planned to Ethiopia, so it seemed logical to go ahead and renew all the passports at once. This meant trying to get decent passport photos for all six of us. This has not been an easy task in the past. The kids are squirmy squirmy squirmy and many passport photo shops won’t even take passport photos of children. Not to mention, it’s ridiculously pricey for a small little photo. At about $15 a pop in these parts, we were looking at $90 for our family’s photos. Not to mention, I’m not immune to vanity and had visions of a passport photo that was slightly less hideous than the one I carried around for the past ten years. I figured there had to be a way to do cheaper photos, especially so that we could take multiple shots and choose the most flattering option. Is there an app for that?

Why, yes, in fact. There is.

Passport Photo Booth is an iphone passport photo app that allows you to take and then resize passport photos on your phone. We used a large piece of white posterboard taped to the wall as our background. I found the best lighting to be outside in the shade – it kept shadows away and gave a nice, bright light for features. The app then allows you to size them to print at 4x6 size (6 per page) and save to your phone. I then uploaded the photos using the Shutterfly app, and printed them at Target. Total cost for our passport photos? $1.74. After many takes (and much effort on everyone’s part not to smile) here’s the finished results:

There was some disagreement from my facebook friends as to whether or not smiling is allowed. The DOS website says “a neutral expression” but I had a lot of friends report that they were prohibited from smiling. I’m so glad we did this at home, because it was no small feat to capture photos of my squirmy kids not smiling, heads centered and looking straight ahead. Here are some of the outtakes:

As you can see, Jafta had the worst time trying not to smile. There are about 100 more photos of him where that came from. Glad that’s done. Now . . . where should we go??

that’s what SHE said: weapons, relationships, self-worship, psych meds, chubby guys, and more . . .

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Sun, 20 May 2012 18:56:00 +0000

click on the title to read the full story

War. What is it good for? | Jillian Lauren

And here’s the thing- as a storyteller, I naturally gravitate toward stories of battle. Because all good stories are about conflict. And heroic stories often have sword fights. And if you’re going to tell a story, why not make it heroic? Tariku struggles with a lot, frankly. He has tremendous fears and challenges to face. Maybe battle isn’t such a bad metaphor for him, if I can place it in the appropriate context.

7 Easy Ways To Have A Better, Happier Relationship | Sweetney & Spice

The world has a way of wearing people down with criticism and feelings of not being good enough. As a couple, you should be each other's biggest fans and strongest supporters, making each other feel good - or at least good enough. So focus on the good, the positive, and cut the criticism as much as possible. Criticism is corrosive to intimacy, while compliments and praise always strengthen it.

Joel Osteen worships himself | Salon.com

The constant recitation of God’s transcendent goodness and the deference paid to his ironclad ability to lift believers magically out of suffering and woe both subtly downgrade the divine presence into a glorified lifestyle concierge. This God has no real way of accounting for the age-old paradoxes of theology, such as the tolerance of personal and historic evil, or the deeper ironies and unintended consequences of the believing life. Even less does the Osteen family’s success gospel encompass a sustained social ethic — even though the D.C. event featured an appeal on behalf of the World Vision ministries to adopt a needy child in the developing world. The believer’s chief task is to ratify the preexisting divine script of success in his or her individual life — and then to bear testimony to that joyous transformation in a community of like-minded success believers.

The Once and Future Queen: Finding Erma Bombeck | Planting Dandelions

Which brings me to the other reason there can never be a Next Erma Bombeck: because there are so many. Every blogger who has ever written about family life can (and should) claim direct lineage to Erma. She is the mother of all mother bloggers, the one who opened our readers’ doors for us and showed us where to find the coffee cups. She wasn’t the first woman writer to tell public stories about private life, but she was instrumental in making it okay. In an era of crushing cultural expectations of wives and mothers, Erma was willing to expose herself as flawed and real. She was the ultimate subvert; the one who penetrates the mainstream.

Freedom | Motherhood in NYC

Check email.
Check secondary email account.
Check tertiary email account.
Check tertiary email account spam.
Why isn’t there any spam in the tertiary email account?!
Log into primary email account and send an email to tertiary email account titled “LOTS OF CASH AND BIG PENIS VIAGRA PILLS FROM CANADA” .
Log into tertiary email.
Have one new message. Fume that primary email account email did not go to spam.

Should We Be Positive about Psychiatric Medication? | Justin Taylor

Some kids are just hard. The strategies that worked for some parents will not necessarily work for you. To make matters worse, you will receive an endless stream of advice, which will leave you angry, because you feel like you should do everything you can for your child and the advice is often contradictory. We hope you will not add guilt over medication to that list. Rather, success is marked by “help me and my child, Lord Jesus.” It isn’t measured by having a medication-free zone in your home.

Full Circle | Suburban Turmoil

Eleven years ago, I was that girl on the soccer field, hand-in-hand with a boyfriend who was 15 years older. Eleven years ago, I endured the malevolent gazes, the coldness, and the barbs from other mothers. Back then, I thought the unkindness was unfair– I hadn’t even met my boyfriend until after his divorce was finalized. There was nothing wrong or inappropriate about the two of us falling in love. But throughout our courtship, our engagement and eventual marriage, and occasionally even today, I’ve borne the brunt of hurtful comments from first wives– and because of that, I’ve always resolved that when I encountered another girlfriend or second wife at the soccer field or a child’s birthday party, I was going to go out of my way to be nice to her. Because I knew exactly how she felt. And yet…

33 Films That Take Faith Seriously | The Search

Christian moviegoers sometimes lament the dearth of good, positive, realistic portrayals of faith in film. If Christians are portrayed in film, it’s usually as right-wing zealots (Citizen Ruth), scary pentecostals (Jesus Camp), or psychotic killers (Night of the Hunter). Or faith is reduced to schmaltzy simplicity, as in most “Christian films” (Facing the Giants, The Grace Card). But many films throughout cinema history have actually provided rich, artful portraits of faith. The following is a list of 33 films that take faith seriously; films I believe every Christian should make a point to see.

Studio Exec Forces Jason Segel to Lose Weight, Since Thin Women Don't Marry Chunky Guys | Jezebel

But seriously, beyond the fact that Jason Segel is Jason Segel — adorable, funny, charming, smart, absolutely lovable — the idea that a thicker man is undesirable is absurd. Our society insists on equating physical attributes with personality traits. Being skinny doesn't make you a good person; being fat doesn't make you a bad person. What does your weight have to do with how you treat others, your heart, your intelligence? A thin dude could be an intolerant bigot; a chubby dude a philanthropist. Or vice versa. But in this flick, in an attempt to enchant and entertain, Jason Segel plays a chef (!) who is 35lbs. thinner than the real jason Segel. He was forced to lose weight in order to play a man who works with food. A complete and total demonization of weight, fatphobia defined.

Girls going wild in red light district By Duval Guillaume Modem '

(watch until the end)

hat tip: Jillian Lauren

We’ve Found 3 New Tumors (consider me sober) | Tim Timmons

Last night, I sang and spoke many prayers with my friend Kym, her studly husband Chris and her 11 year old prized gift of a son Blake. Watching Chris and Blake curl up next to her, holding each other as they cried the words of these songs will be forever etched on my heart. DEATH SUCKS. The tension between praying for healing in the name of Jesus and surrender was palatable. As much as I was there to serve and Re-Present Jesus as an extension of His beautiful body, I was taunted with my own story. Is that the way my story in this body ends? Consider me a little tipsy on the wine of future tripping.

africa-bound in less than two months!

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Fri, 18 May 2012 21:12:00 +0000

I’m excited to officially announce that I will be traveling to Ethiopia this summer along with Food for the Hungry, an incredible aid organization that serves at-risk children all over the world. Food for the Hungry was founded in 1971, and they take a holistic approach to working with children within their communities. In fact, one of my favorite books on working with the poor, called When Helping Hurts, was written by a former Food for the Hungry employee. Partnering with them felt like a natural fit for me.

In Ethiopia, I will have the chance to visit the The Zeway Orphan and Vulnerable Children Development Program, to see all that they are doing first-hand. This is a Child Development Program working to develop orphans and vulnerable children intellectually (education support), physically (health support and nutritional support), socially (psychological/emotional), and spiritually. In addition, on a macro level, attention is being paid to equipping families, churches, and local leaders to sustain long-term freedom from poverty. The hope is that establishing local leaders will allow them to capably address their children’s basic needs in the future. I love this model.

Food for the Hungry describes their partnerships with each community as “the walk”:

“The beauty of the walk is that it is different in each community we work. Problems vary. Resources vary. But as we walk with churches, leaders and families, community members begin to respond to their own unique challenges.”

In order to meet those challenges, Food for the Hungry takes a holistic approach, attending to:

Food and Agriculture
Water and Sanitation
Health and Nutrition
Child Sponsorship
HIV/AIDS
Economic Development
Church Development
Emergency Response

I am really excited to see how this plays out on the ground. My role on this trip will be two-fold. First, to help bring exposure to what Food for the Hungry is doing, and second, to encourage others to sponsor a child. Now, if you are reading this and not yet sponsoring a child, I’m going to say this . . . YOU SHOULD BE SPONSORING A CHILD. It is such a blessing. To the child, and to you. And if you have kids, it is an incredible experience for them as well. Each of my kids have a child that they sponsor and I love the connection they feel to each other.

Sponsoring a child with Food for the Hungry costs about $1 a day. I know this may be cost prohibitive for some, but I believe that it is well within reach for most budgets. By sponsoring a child you’ll make sure he or she has food, clean water, sanitation, medical care and a chance to go to school . . . all without fostering dependence. To see children who are waiting for a sponsor, click here.

I’m thrilled to be partnering with Food for the Hungry and I am really looking forward to getting a first-hand look at the amazing work they are doing.

friday finds 5/18/12

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Fri, 18 May 2012 07:31:00 +0000

Jafta got a new mohawk helmet this week and he is LOVING IT. It’s made by Raskulls, who make the adorable kids’ helmets in animal shapes (Kembe has their shark helmet and India has the pony version, but Jafta felt he was too big to wear an animal helmet. But this? He is a fan. I swear he did 20 trips around the block on his skateboard the day he got it, just because he was so excited to show it off.

The kids got to try a paddleboarding lesson with Pirate Coast Paddle Company on Saturday. I was worried it might be too difficult for them, but the boys really did well with it. Pirate Coast is docked in the bay at Newport Dunes, which is great because there are no waves to contend with.

Pirate Coast has a Stand-Up Paddle Camp over the summer. For five days a week from 9-noon, kids learn the basics of stand up paddle boarding, along with water safety, marine life, and a couple cool tricks. Check out their website for more info.

Last night we attended the launch of 31 Bits spring line. We love their parties because they have cool DJ’s. The kids love their parties because of the sugar.

31 Bits is such an incredible organization, and their new line is SO FUN. I hope you will watch the video below to see how they are helping empower women in Uganda.

I know I mention Zulily every week but I continue to find such great stuff there in the way of educational toys. We just got this Ten Frame Towers game. Our elementary schools rely heavy on the 10-frame concept to teach math, and I love this tangible way to conceptualize numbers. It works as a game with dice, which Jafta and I had fun playing, but Karis just likes to sit and make towers. It’s cool to see her working out the addition in her head, as she figures out what number of blocks she needs to complete each 10 frame,

At Mom 2.0 I was given the book My Daddy Is a Pretzel and it is great for budding yoga enthusiasts. They’ve got different poses on each page and now India is very enthusiastic about leading us in yoga each day. They also have a great set of parent and child pose cards called Yoga Pretzels.

what I want you to know: shaming skinny women is not okay

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Thu, 17 May 2012 04:48:00 +0000

I want people to know that being thin is ok. We aren't all anorexic. Or bulimic. Or ill. The majority of us ʺtoo skinnyʺ people are, well, just thin. And that's ok too.

I never used to be thin. I was a gymnast as a child, and once I quit as a teenager, I ballooned up 20 lbs in a month. That put me at about 125-130 all throughout high school. I wasn't a fan of that weight on my 5'4ʺ frame. Like most in this society, I felt that I would look better thinner. But I also loved to eat, so as much as I worked out, my body didn't change. Then at the end of high school, I developed a progressively worsening dairy allergy. Between that and the stress of college, pounds started slipping off. I started eating more, but couldn't seem to get over 110 pounds. But that was ok, I was still considered ʺhealthy enough.ʺ

Then I had my first son. Unlike most, as soon as I stopped nursing, even more weight came off. Nothing I did worked to put on weight. I got pregnant again. And again, even more weight slipped off after our second son was born. So much so, I've been hovering between 92-96 pounds for over a year. I've been to dozens of doctors and probably had liters of blood drawn. The results? Nothing is physically wrong. Although I never tried to lose weight, it's just how my body is now. Yes, I know I look bony. Yes, I know you all think it's ʺgross.ʺ Yes, I'm sad that I have no boobs now. Yes, I eat...and eat horribly (do 20 cookies and 2 large fries count as carbs & veggies?) But this is me now. For whatever reason, it's just how it is.

I want you to know it hurts every time I am harassed to eat more because I look anorexic. I want you to know the glares in the restaurant when I sit with no food sting to the core. You may not understand my food allergy does not allow me to eat at most restaurants, but the assumptions and judgments passed kill. I want you to know that I try to embrace and accept who I am, but the negative feedback doesn't help. There is so much out there about loving your curves and accepting your body if you're not thin. But what about us thin women? Is it ok to belittle and begrudge us? To make snide remarks and disgusted looks? Speaking badly of someone's weight seems more socially acceptable of thin women than of heavier women. It's hard to love my body when everyone else tells me I too should hate it and be disgusted. That I am wrong and not ok.

I want you to know thin women are prejudiced against just as much as heavier women. I want you to know that no matter what someone's weight is, it's NEVER okay to make someone feel bad about it. I want you to know that there are thin and heavy women with food problems just as there are thin and heavy women with no food problems. I want you to know that we're all ok just the way we are.

mother’s day, then and now

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Tue, 15 May 2012 06:28:00 +0000

I had a great Mother’s Day on Sunday. Let’s be honest – the best part of the day started the night before, when Mark offered to let me sleep in so I could continue my Downton Abbey marathon into the wee hours. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.

After a glorious morning of sleeping in, we went to lunch at Habana's restaurant - a Cuban joint at a place called the Anti-Mall. It's safe to say that Habana's is about the last place most people would choose for a Mother's Day lunch - they blare ambient techno, the servers seem perpetually annoyed by children, and it's typically full of college-aged hipsters who are taking a break from trying on clothes at the adjacent Urban Outfitters. But I love it, and seven years ago when we were still a childless couple, I chose it for that very reason, and the tradition stuck.

In May of 2005, Mark and I had a nice casual brunch at Habana's, where I had a mojito to drown out my sorrows about not being a mom. In May of 2006, Jafta had joined our family, and I didn't get to have a mojito. Because, we had a little surprise cooking that year.

In May of 2007 and 2008, we were a party of four, and apparently were too frazzled to take photos. (Or I was too drunk. On account of the mojitos). In 2009, Karis joined the party a few weeks before mother's day. Mojito courtesy of the Medela Pump In Style. (Ya'll ladies know what I'm talkin' about).

Here we are our first year as a family of six, with Kembe newly home from Haiti. He was not quite sure yet whether or not he really wanted a mom. Or anyone in charge of him, for that matter. I might have had two mojitos this year.

Last year, we were all looking a little more refreshed. (Including the fountains.) Kembe was on board with the whole concept of having a mom. Even a little enthusiastic about it, which was nice.

And then this year. Again, Kembe was my biggest cheerleader for Mother’s Day. And again, a picture with all six of us looking at the camera proves impossible. Tradition!

Somehow I feel compelled to start singing another little song from Fiddler on the Roof. Join me, won't you?

Sunrise, Sunset
Sunrise, Sunset
Swiftly, fly the years . . .

my kids are going to change the world. with war and chicken nuggets.

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Mon, 14 May 2012 11:28:00 +0000

I mentioned last week that we’ve been reading questions from the TableTopics Family Cube each night at dinner. It’s provided us with some interesting perspective on our kids. Some of it is not so flattering. (Like, for example, when Jafta answered the question about whether or not he would go to school if he didn’t have to, and he replied that he would stay home and watch video games every day). Tonight’s question brought us to a new low. The question:

If you could make one change in this world, what would it be?

Perhaps I’ve watched a few too many Miss America pageants, but I expected my kids to answer with some kind heartfelt, empathic, social-justice minded answer. Mark answered that he would like everyone to have clean water. I answered that I would like to make sure that every child has a family. And then it went down hill from there.

Me: Jafta, what about you? What would you like to change about the world?

Jafta: More war.

Me: Do you mean you want no more war? That’s nice.

Jafta: No. I want more war. More guns and shooting,

Me: Uh. Well, I don’t know if . . .

Kembe: ME TOO! I want more war too. Definitely need more war.

Me: Well, war is not really such a good thing, you guys.

India: I want the whole world to be made out of chicken nuggets!

Me: (hopefully) So that all kids can have food to eat?

India: NO! Just for me! I love chicken nuggets!

Me: (contemplating if this is an opportunity to educate my kids on the horrors of war, the military industrial complex, global malnutrition and the reality of pink slime, but deciding instead to refocus.) Um, Karis? How about you?

Karis: Buzz Lightyear.

Me: (defeated) Buzz Lightyear? That’s your answer?

Karis: Yes.

Such lovely citizens I’m raising over here.

that’s what she said: mother’s day edition

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Mon, 14 May 2012 00:26:00 +0000

Why I Hate Mother’s Day | Anne Lammott

I hate the way the holiday makes all non-mothers, and the daughters of dead mothers, and the mothers of dead or severely damaged children, feel the deepest kind of grief and failure. The non-mothers must sit in their churches, temples, mosques, recovery rooms and pretend to feel good about the day while they are excluded from a holiday that benefits no one but Hallmark and See’s. There is no refuge — not at the horse races, movies, malls, museums. Even the turn-off-your-cellphone announcer is going to open by saying, “Happy Mother’s Day!” You could always hide in a nice seedy bar, I suppose. Or an ER.

Motherhood Essay | Camille Ovard

I watched patiently as he held a shoe with both hands and moved his foot one way then the other while tugging the shoe with his hands, and then success. He held the shoelaces and made small circling motions with his hands, as he’d seen me do, and then went on to the next shoe. The look of victory and accomplishment was apparent in his face. Although he had asserted his independence in other matters before, this time was different. It touched my mother heart. For Dylan, our youngest child, was not a young child; he had just turned 18 years old.

Brave (in theaters June 22)

Thirty Years a Mother | Girl's Gone Child

Instead of holding on to me for dear life, she was generous enough to let me go - to let me be - and to trust that I would make the right decisions. Which in turn gifted me the confidence to trust myself. As a woman and writer, daughter then mother. No matter who judged me, she wouldn't dare. That was never her deal. And so? I was always safe. For twenty-nine years, I have been safe.

What Mother’s Day Is Like For a Stepmom | Moms LA

Mother’s Day is a day that was created for Mothers, a day for a child to show their appreciation to the most important woman in their life. Which, btw does not apply to you, when your stepchildren already have a Mom who is very much a part of their lives. What I always find odd is that as a Stepmom you are supposed to perform motherly duties, without getting “the credit.” You are supposed to treat the children like your own. You are supposed to provide financial support. Do homework, cook, clean and drive around. You are a teacher, a mentor, a parent and friend. In all honesty, you are not really a friend. I hate when people say that. Sometimes in fact, you are the enemy.

oh mother | Livesay [Haiti] Weblog

In all seriousness, today is a day to give thanks for all that I'm being trusted with. (It doesn't.make. sense.at.all. - not on paper, not in reality to be entrusted with ^that^)! I don't know how to be fair, how to make enough time for everyone, how to meet individual needs, how to affirm them each, how to foster everyone's special talents and abilities, how to fill the holes of jealousy, hurts, and human failures .... I don't even know where to begin to do any of that.

The Depressing Lot of the Conflicted American Mother | NYTimes.com

I suppose my parting thought about this would be that for most women who don’t have incredibly high paying jobs or wealthy spouses, these “choices,” about work and family aren’t actually choices. We weigh our particular circumstances and attempt to figure out the best course of action. The notion that scads of women are chucking fulfilling jobs to be handmaidens to idealized, natural motherhood just doesn’t ring true to me. But I’m curious to hear what the other book clubbers think about Ms. Badinter’s lively work, and whether, as an envoy from pre-child-land, I don’t understand the kind of judgments that other mothers, and society, are truly making about your individual parenting decisions.

At the Edge | Heart Cries

I cried for the loss I feel over the "normal", steady, quiet life we led, pre-LJ.

I cried because I hate who I am, right now, as a mother. I'm angry and resentful and frustrated. I'm trying so desperately not to let those emotions direct themselves toward LJ, but I'm not always successful.

I cried because I don't like this kid...and I don't want him in my house.

I know that's ugly.

“The Conflict” — There Isn’t Any for Most Moms | PunditMom

Yes, there was a day a few decades ago when women engaged in the stay-at-home vs working mom judgment game. But these days, I think I’m safe in saying that most of the people I know are past that. There’s not enough energy to be spent judging what other women are doing. I have a hard enough time staying on top of work and family commitments; I don’t have time to mess with anyone else’s head.

In Praise of Single Mothers | Gayle Tzemach Lemmon

Instead, when I heard criticisms of single moms, I always wondered why no one seemed to talk about the dads. It was as if our mothers had created us by themselves as a unique burden they'd chosen to bear. As I joked to one of my friends, if anyone had actually come to our house and seen our mothers' lives, they would have known that precious few would have landed in that daily fight for economic survival by choice.

What I Know About Motherhood Now That I Have A Child With Special Needs | Ellen Seidman

I've grown used to the pity stare Max or I sometimes get from other parents. I'm accustomed to explaining Max to kids who gape. It hasn't always been that way; I used to get defensive and worked up. But I've realized that as Max's mom, it's my job (and privilege!) to help people understand that in many ways, he's just like any other kid--and that although he has some differences, he's still a kid. When kids ask "Why is he drooling?" I'll patiently explain that it's because his mouth doesn't close all the way. And then I'll tell them his favorite movie is Cars 2, and ask what theirs is. When parents at the playground stare, I'll start the conversation and tell them that Max would really like it if their kids played with him. I do my best to bridge the gap--and hope that people will look past Max's special needs and try to get to know the kid inside.

On finding the beauty in the unexpected: my interview with “Bloom” author and blogger Kelle Hampton | The Happiest Mom

My first attempt in this medium is an interview with blogger and author Kelle Hampton. In the recording Kelle and I talked about her daughter Nella’s surprise diagnosis with Down syndrome at birth, the unfair suspicion sometimes aimed at positive mom bloggers, and more.

What Kind of Mom Will You Be When Your Kid(s) Leave the Nest? | MamaPundit

I mean, how many 55 or 62 year old women do you know who have the time to obsess over their adult children’s day to day lives? Even moms of adult children who might want to do things like reorganize the kitchen cabinets in the apartments that their adult children now inhabit are probably too busy paying their own bills or starting a new company or maybe even just enjoying things they couldn’t afford (in time or money) when they were still fully responsible for their offspring.

what I learned about motherhood by being an adoptive parent

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Sun, 13 May 2012 04:13:00 +0000

I wrote a guest post for the Huffington Post this weekend. They are doing a Mother’s Day series, and asked me to write about what I’ve learned by being an adoptive mom. Here’s an excerpt:

My family has been formed in many ways. My first child was adopted from the foster-care system as an infant. My second two children came the old-fashioned way. My last child was adopted at nearly 4 years old from an orphanage in Haiti. I've been blessed to experience the beauty of childbirth, as well as the joy of meeting an adopted child for the first time. Each experience was equally emotional and life-changing. However, the experience of adopting has given me a unique perspective on motherhood, teaching me some new truths, and reinforcing what I believe to be true about parenting.

Read the rest here at Huffington Post.

[photo credit: Trever Hoehne]

where is the mommy-war for the motherless child?

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Fri, 11 May 2012 05:57:00 +0000

If you watch the trends of media, whether it be print, internet, or tv, you’ve probably noticed that every couple of months there is a new version of the “mommy war” being played out. Last month’s battle du jour was surrounding moms who work vs. moms who stay at home. Today, a firestorm has ignited over a provocative photo and article in Time magazine about extended breastfeeding and attachment parenting. These manufactured mommy wars are predictable because they tend to provoke strong reactions from mothers who feel judged, as well as mothers who want to feel superior for their choices. A litany of analysis, outrage, and defensiveness usually follows. Women tear each other down, while the entity responsible for initiating the battle reaps the benefit (whether it be a hot debate on a talk show or a political playing card). The insecurities of women surrounding their parenting choices are frequently pawns in the ratings game, and I think the most recent Time magazine article and photo of a preschooler breastfeeding are intended to incite such a reaction.

I don’t much care if you breastfed your kid until they started kindergarten, or if you fed them formula from day one. I don’t really care if you turned your infant car-seat forward-facing prior to age 2, or if you homeschool, or if you send your kids to daycare while you go to work. Do you cosleep? Did you circumcise your son? I DON’T CARE. Do you babywear? Push your kid around in a stroller? Use a leash for your kid at Disneyland? Whatever. Good for you.

When it comes to issues of motherhood, there is one issue I care about: some kids don’t have one. All of these petty wars about the choices of capable, loving mothers is just a lot of white noise to me, Quite honestly, I’m often astonished at the non-essential parenting issues I see moms getting their panties in a wad about. Particularly when there are so many kids in this world not being parented at all.

This is the only mommy war I’ll wage. I’m confident that most mothers are doing the best that they can for their kids, even if their choices are different than mine. I think it’s ridiculous that so much energy is spent on debating largely inconsequential parenting decisions when so very little attention is given to the children who DON’T HAVE PARENTS. Why isn’t this causing outrage? Making magazine covers? Inciting ranty twitter posts?

This is the war I’ll be involved in: We, as a society, are not doing enough to protect at-risk and motherless children, both in our country and globally.

(Because apparently we’re too busy worrying about that kid whose mom gave him formula).

The kind of war I’ll get behind will advocate for kids with bigger issues than a mom who goes to work. Or doesn’t.

I’ll get upset about the fact that LA County’s family court system is so atrocious that they recently allowed press into court hearings for minors, in the hopes that this might finally provide some accountability for social workers who aren’t doing their job. Let me repeat that: social workers are so understaffed and/or screwing up so badly that reporters are allowed into confidential court proceedings in the hopes that it will shape them up.

I’ll be disturbed by the 18-year-olds I regularly see on adoption photolistings who, despite being old enough to live independently, place themselves on national photolistings because they desperately want a mom and a dad in their adult life. Because, in one teen’s words, he "wants to become a member of a permanent family".

I’ll whine about how, when we called our Christian agency about a healthy African American boy from LA county who was in need of a home, we were told that they had no prospective adoptive parents willing to accept a placement of a black child. NOT ONE.

I’ll get my panties in a wad about a system that requires foster children to be placed in an adoptive home for 6 months before terminating parental rights, regardless of an absence of reunification efforts by the birth parents. I’ll be angry about how this scares away prospective adoptive parents, and hurts children by leaving them in a limbo even after years of no contact or even abandonment by their birth family. I’ll rant about how children whose parents have failed them should be made legally freed for adoption AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, so that more people would be willing to step forward and adopt.

I’ll get behind complaining about how the government renames orphans and calls them "wards of the state", and renames orphanages and calls them "group homes", and how we collectively turn a blind eye to the fact that we have hundreds of thousands of children waiting for families in the US.

I’ll be appalled over how many children around the world will age out of orphanages, due to lack of paperwork or other factors that make them ineligible for adoption. I’ll continue posting about the deplorable conditions of third world orphanages, and the developmental challenges that neglected children will face.

I’ll fight for the moms who don’t have access to prenatal care, or for the moms who have to abandon their children because of poverty. I’ll be mad that such inequities exist, and I’ll support organizations that help change it.

The only mommy war I support involves moms banding together to talk about the number of children in our world who are missing out on basic human needs. Security. Love. Affection. Let’s wage a war about that. Not everyone can adopt, but we can all do something. Even if it’s just using our voices for something more productive than personal parenting choices.

Let’s stop quibbling about what competent mothers are choosing for their kids, and step it up for the kids that don’t have one.

what I want you to know: coping with miscarriage

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Thu, 10 May 2012 03:49:00 +0000

For nine short weeks, a tiny thread drew my focus into the future. A tiny life connected the thread to me and extended it beyond my view, beyond my lifetime. From the moment I became aware, every future day changed in my eyes because each of those days now contained another life; a little girl, I imagined.

Every event changed; at Thanksgiving, we would tell the families, and what a list we would have to be thankful for! By Christmas, I would be showing; maybe we would even know for sure if my imagination was true. The plans I made for these holidays changed because of the little life. My energy levels would probably be low, so the cookies I planned for the annual cookie exchange were simple, yet elegant. I even made some in advance to ease the pressure. Christmas gifts would have to be simpler. And by next Christmas, there would be three little ones crowding around our tree, instead of two. And one would be a girl.

I pictured her room and just how I would arrange it and what colors I would use. I would paint the bassinet white and replace the green ribbon on the bedding with pink. I tried to imagine how the boys would respond to a new baby, and later, to a girl. I imagined the labor and delivery, a normal one this time. Not in the ideal location, but normal nonetheless.
And then, yesterday, the thread snapped. That future disappeared and what little past I had was not the same. My little girl was gone; no beautiful sound like galloping horses in my womb. Her heart was still and there was only silence. Silence that began three weeks before I even knew. We had told people our wonderful news, when there was nothing to tell. I had suffered morning sickness when there was no baby to suffer for. I had refused to pick up my hurting son for fear of harming the new life, when I could have comforted the child I have without injuring the child I did not.

The future has lost some of its luster. The days ahead seem dull in comparison. This little girl will never wear ribbons in her hair or the adorable pink jumper I purchased in anticipation. She will never call me Mama; she never even learned to recognize my voice. My hand, when it involuntarily cradles my still filled out abdomen, aches with the emptiness it contains. Every day some plan that included this little child is changed, some thought rearranged, some hope shriveled by her absence.

Instead of expecting a baby, I am expecting the proof of her demise. Instead of baby clothes, I am buying feminine hygiene products. Instead of wearing maternity clothes, I’m putting them away again. Instead of complaining about how sick I am, I detest the normal feeling that has taken over, the hunger pangs I haven’t known for six weeks. The hormones are subsiding and all I want is to have the nausea back. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. This was the one we had prayed about from the very moment we knew; that it would be easy, stress-free, the one time we were going to wish we had delivered at home. This is not what I prayed for!!

They tell you it isn’t anything you did or didn’t do. But as the sole human protector of this tiny life, there is a responsibility that cannot be escaped. Everything I have done these last six weeks since I learned I carried this life has been done because of my responsibility to provide a healthy environment, the proper vitamins, and a good diet. Each activity was scrutinized for the impact it might have and many put away for later dates. It is difficult to set aside the responsibility I have carried, and been told I carry, for the past six weeks at a moment’s notice, simply because something went wrong. Perhaps especially because something went wrong.
I wish there was a responsibility that was still mine. Something I could do that would stop this loss, some way to save this precious life. I almost wish it was something I had done; maybe I could have been more faithful in taking my vitamins, I could have been more resolute about not picking up the boys, I could have rested more. I wish there was an obvious mistake that might have caused this so I could avoid it in the future.

Still, it is possible this is better. Maybe this life contained a defect that would have made life on earth miserable. Maybe it is better to lose this little girl now, rather than later when her features would have been recognizable; her tiny hands fully formed, her lips perfect, but still. I don’t know what caused her life to end here, but I do know she is in better hands. I know someday I will meet her, this child taught from the beginning by the most perfect parent; a child who has truly never breathed a moment outside His presence.
What will she be like? I do not know what form she will take, but I know she will be a blessing to her parents, a true pleasure to meet, a joy to become acquainted with. She will never have known the ways and pains of the world; she will never have been stained by its temptations or known its evil inhabitants. She will have never lost, only loved. Never complained, only praised.

She is better where she is, in the life God chose for her. And yet, in this moment, I would wish it different if it were mine to choose. Fortunately, it is not. It is mine to mourn and grow and love more the blessings that remain. Mine to be grateful for the two healthy boys I do have. Mine to wait as this dream that was slowly slips beyond my grasp. Mine to find a way to praise instead of complain. Mine to be reminded, once more, that life is not a dream come true; maybe that is what keeps us looking forward to heaven.

Mine to dwell on this instead: someday, I will be walking hand-in-small-hand with a little boy or girl, a child I might never have known except for this present loss. And, having met that child, loved that child, touched and cared for that child, I know I will decide that I would never trade this loss for that child. That future will be better even than the one I was imagining only yesterday. I only have to believe it.

go big and go home (disney days 5 & 6)

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Tue, 08 May 2012 05:24:00 +0000

After our night of staying at the Magic Kingdom until 2am, you might think we would have taken a break from going back to the parks for a day. But we had 7-Day Park Hoppers, and we were going to milk those suckers for all they were worth.

On Monday we hit Disney’s Hollywood Studios, which is similar in feel to Disney’s California Adventure over in our neck of the woods. It’s a quieter, gentler park, and we spent our time there taking in several shows. We watched the Pixar parade, we saw the Little Mermiad show, we watched the Beauty and the Beast musical and the Playhouse Disney show, and then caught the Disney Channel street performance. It was a nice mellow day to follow our frenzied evening of ride-hopping. Meanwhile, Mark and the boys caught the Indiana Jones show and Star Tours.

Monday evening, we celebrated Karis’ third birthday at my mom’s house along with all of the cousins. It was a simple affair – cupcakes, store-bought decorations, and a few presents. She loved it.

After opening presents, the cousins engaged in their favorite game of Pile On Derek. My nephew Derek is a very, very good sport.

On our last day, Mark and I decided to split up. I went back to the Magic Kingdom with the girls, to fulfill a promise that we stop and chat with some princesses. Two of their cousins came with us, so we had four little girls who were very excited about doing Very Girly Things at Disneyland.

Mark and the boys went to the Blizzard Beach water park, and then back to Hollywood Studios for more roller coasters, and then on to Disney Quest where they binged on video games. I have no photos of this time because Mark does not subscribe to my “pics or it didn’t happen” philosophy.

The next day Mark and the kids flew home, but not before a little pool tine at my mom’s house. I drove a car down to Miami to catch up with the Mom 2 Summit and Mark earned his Lifetime Merit Badge by flying home alone with four children. Fortunately I was allowed to get them through security and onto the plane, on account of Mark’s titanium legs.

We all left Orlando completely exhausted, but the kids are still talking about our trip and asking when we can go back.

the time the kids and I drank beer at Target

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Tue, 08 May 2012 05:22:00 +0000

I’m a little bit Amish when it comes to soda and the kids. As a general rule, we don’t drink it. A couple weeks ago, we did an Eli’s Lid shoot and these adorable little vintage Coca Cola bottles were one of the props. After the shoot, we let the kids drink them. Somehow, it slipped my attention that the kids thought what they were drinking was beer. I guess they assumed so because beer is the only beverage they’ve seen Mark drink out of a glass bottle. I can see how they made the mistake, but unfortunately it slipped my attention so I didn’t correct them. India and Kembe were, apparently, completely convinced that they drank a beer that day.

Cut to last week. Mark was working late and we were in desperate need of groceries, so I decided we’d make a Target run with the kids. It took a little longer than I expected and we ran into the dinnertime hour, and I decided we’d just keep in really classy and eat dinner in the Target food area. I ordered the kids’ meals, and they came with a free fountain drink. For whatever reason, none of the drinks available were of the juice variety. It was either soda or tea, and being worried about caffeine, I let them all have a soda. I figured it would be a special treat. The kids were thrilled. So thrilled that they decided to express their pleasure in a voice loud enough for every shopper in Target to hear.

Kembe: “BEER?? We’re getting BEER? Yes!! I love beer!”

India: ”Mom, thanks for getting us beer!”

Me: Guys, that’s not beer. And please use your inside voice.

Kembe: Yes, this is beer! It’s beer and I love beer.

India: It’s what daddy drinks! Yum. This beer is so good.

Kristen: IT’S NOT BEER. It’s soda. Lower your voices.

India: Mommy, I know this is beer. I’ve had it before.

Me: When have you had beer?

India: That time someone took pictures of us. They took pictures of us with beer and then they let us drink it.

Me: WHAT? SOMEONE TOOK YOUR PICTURE AND GAVE YOU BEER? WHO DID THIS? WHAT HAPPENED? TELL MOMMY WHAT HAPPENED!

Kembe: That time with Eli and Cora.

Me: (heart rate resuming normalcy). Oh. Yes. You guys, that was Coke. Not beer. You’ve never had beer. This is called soda, okay??

A couple seconds later, loud enough for all to hear:

India: I love this straw! When I suck it, the beer goes around and around in circles. Look at my beer!

And scene.

friday finds

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Sat, 05 May 2012 04:56:00 +0000

Here are a couple discoveries from this week:

I’m continuing to love Zulily as a source for quality educational toys and eco-friendly clothes. Last week I ordered the Smart Tray system from Zulily and the kids are loving it. It’s a self-checking system where kids answer questions related to spelling or math. Very Montessori-esque. (If you aren’t on Zulily yet, click here for an invitation.)

There is a new salon in Orange County called The Lash Spot, and they invited me to come try out lash extensions. I didn’t even know that was a thing! I was thrilled to try, given the fact that my eyebrows and eyelashes are completely white. I’m never without makeup so I can avoid looking like one of those “Celebrities Without Eyebrows” photos floating around Pinterest. (Source: living-to-the-fullesst)

That could so be me, you guys.

I loved the lashes. It took about two hours and I’m still a little confused about how it work, but I walked in with sparse, white lashes and walked out with serious lashes that are supposed to last for several weeks. I can’t even tell you how nice it’s been to not have to wear mascara. He’s a high-quality before and after that I took of myself in the bathroom of the spa;

He’s a slightly higher quality photo of what it does:

I’ve talked about how Jafta and I are on a gluten-free diet. This can make it hard to find cookie-type treats. A new company called Marshmallow Mischief sent me a sampler and I’m sold. They make gourmet goodies out of brown rice, and they are gluten-free, vegetarian, and free of HFCS. They come in flavors like hazelnut, coconut, peanut butter, macadamia nut, and cinnamon. Unfortunately the other kids insisted that Jafta and I share.

A company called TableTopics sent me dinner-time discussion cube for families.

This cube is full of cards with age-appropriate questions range from silly to thought-provoking. Some of the questions include:

is it more fun to be a parent or a child?
what's your favorite family tradition?
would you rather live for a week in the past or the future?
which famous athlete would you love to meet?
what family or school rule would you most like to change?

My kids are geeking out over these cards. They are perfect for dinner-time discussion, and a great way to have the kids practice reading. Our only problem is that they would like to sit at the table and go through the entire box in one sitting. Which I suppose is a good problem to have.

the agony and the ecstasy of disney world (social media moms day 3 and 4)

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Fri, 04 May 2012 18:30:00 +0000

It’s hard to really do justice to the highs and lows of a Disney vacation. Our time in the parks was 20% weaving through crowds, 20% yelling at the kids to stop whining/fighting/roaming off, 15% finding a bathroom, and 45% PURE, SOUL-SOARING JOY. It’s funny how it retrospect (and in photos) it’s the joy and the memories that remain. If you asked me on MOnday how the trip was going, I would have said that it was a lot of work and that we were all very tired. Ask me today, and this vacation was the most epic family time we’ve ever had. Both statements are entirely true.

Saturday morning we had a big family talk about trying to have a more positive day at the parks. The kids, on their own, decided they needed to have a little meditative time. Then India broke into spontaneous prayer. It was pretty cute. And it totally changed them into perfectly behaved and non-whiny children for the rest of the day. (HAHAHAHA. No it didn’t. But it made for a cute picture).

I’m not sure what came over me on this trip, because I am typically the mom who avoids character clothes at all clothes, and mocks people who dress their children matching and according to theme. And yet . . . I could not resist.

We spend Saturday at Epcot. If you haven’t been, Epcot has an around-the-world experience where you can have a variety of cultural experiences. The kids can get a passport and have it stamped in each country. I will admit, for a couple hours I was struggling to stay out of to-do-list mode. I had memories of visiting Europe with my dad, who was all about all about checking off each sight and hustling to the next, with no regard for the process or experience. I was totally acting like that, as if our family was being graded out completing a world tour. We all had more fun once I stopped. Type-A . . . fun for the whole family!

We found a Haiti display and I had Kembe stand in front of the sign for a picture. “Say hi in Creole!” I said. “Hola!” he said. Um . . . not exactly.

We played drums in Africa, played lawn games in the Antebellum-era US, took in a Japanese drum show, and rode a ship in Norway. After our afternoon at Epcot, it was back to the hotel for a rest before our final dinner of the Social Media Moms conference.

Dinner was held at the not-yet-open Art of Animation resort. It’s a really fun hotel with an animation theme, and the rooms are all big enough to sleep a family of six.

I don’t cook a lot of meat at home so Jafta was gorging himself on meat and seafood at the buffets each night. Prior to these shrimp skewers he ate four hamburger patties. FOUR.

My sisters and their girls were able to join us. Love seeing all these cousins together.

These two tinkerbells are tuckered out.

My nephew Derek stayed the night with us and snapped this picture of us in the morning. I think I may frame this one.

Our last morning at the hotel, we lounged by the pool, and then we transferred over to my mom’s house for the next few days. Around 7pm, we went back to the Magic Kingdom. It was open until 2am that night, and we were going to stay as long as the kids could make it.

It was really fun being in the park late at night. There were no lines, no crowds, and the weather was cooler. We were all more relaxed and this is my favorite time we had at the parks all week.

Since there were no lines, we tried to hit every single ride the kids were tall enough to ride. I believe we succeeded, and we staggered out of the park at 2am on the dot. Go big or go home.

It’s not a party until someone falls asleep standing up.

the avengers: a review for parents

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Wed, 02 May 2012 08:38:00 +0000

If you have a child who is a fan of superheroes, you’ve probably been hearing all about the new Marvel: Avengers movie coming out. And with good reason: Avengers features an all-star cast of superheroes. It’s the first time that Iron Man, Captain America, The Hulk, and Thor have all teamed up for a feature film. Jafta has been talking about it nonstop, and so when I was given a chance to see an early screening of the film a few weeks ago, I decided to take him along.

Aside from Star Wars, this was the first time I’ve taken Jafta to a movie that was not made specifically for children. I was a bit ambivalent about it. On the one had, I’ve always wanted to shy away from movies with violent themes. On the other hand, his thrill at seeing this movie was just SO GREAT that it was hard not to be swept up in his excitement. Like many parenting decisions I made before actually having kids, I set aside my reservations about movies with weapons for the sake of letting Jafta get out geek-out over his favorite superheroes. I’m still on the fence about that decision, but he is 100% sure I chose wisely.

Jafta loved the movie, and I was surprised to find that I enjoyed it as well, given that this isn’t a genre I typically like. The movie was written and directed by Joss Whedon, the brilliant mind behind Buffy and Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, so it’s not surprising that the film was funny and engaging. The ensemble cast was incredible: Robert Downey Jr. was perfect as the narcissistic playboy Tony Stark and Chris Evan’s portrayal of the grieving Captain American was poignant. Ladies, Chris Hemsworth’s turn as Thor is every bit as eye-pleasing as Brad Pitt circa Legends of the Fall. Collectively, the team of actors had a great rapport with one others, perfectly portraying the tension and budding loyalty between a band of unlikely superheroes. It was heavy on the action, but there was still enough human drama and character conflict for it to maintain my interest. Jafta loved every second of it, and declared it to be the best movie he’s ever seen. If your child is a fan of action figures and you are wondering if they will enjoy the film, both Jafta and I give it a hearty thumbs up. But before you buy your ticket, you may need to contemplate your child’s age and whether or not they are old enough for some of the film’s themes. I’m going to try to do my best to break down the areas of concerns that parents might have without giving away any spoilers.

Violence – There was quite a bit of violence throughout the movie, including several deaths. Weapons, including guns, a hammer, and a bow and arrow, were featured in many scenes. Innocent people were killed, including one prominent character. At the climax of the movie there is a war scene, with continuous shooting and a number of aliens being killed. The movie was never gory, but it was quite violent.

Action – The action in this movie was intense. There were multiple explosions and car crashes . . . aspects of the film that simultaneously concerned me and delighted my son. The aliens were rather scary-looking, and would likely frighten small children. Jafta had a hard time going to sleep the night he saw the movie, out of fear of the alien creatures. The scariest scenes for me involved The Hulk, who was undiscerning in his violence towards even good people once he got angry.

Language – There was some mild profanity in the movie Avengers. The curse words "son of a bitch" and "bastard" were used.

Sexuality – There was nothing of concern to me in terms of sexual themes. A couple female characters are dressed in skin-tight costumes, and it’s clear that Black Widow is seductive with the bad guys. There is a rather benign kissing scene between two characters. I was pleased that a there was a female superhero in a leading role.

Moral themes – The overall movie theme was a battle between good and evil. The villain was self-seeking and lacking in empathy, so he exemplified the perfect bad guy. However, all of the good guys were fighting their own demons, including self-control. In the end, it is the mastery over selfishness and self-control that allows each superhero to prevail.

Another aspect of the movie that gave me a major pause, as an adoptive parent, was a throw-away joke about adoption. The main villain was Thor’s non-biological brother. During a meeting in which the villain’s evil deeds are listed, Thor exclaims “He’s adopted!” This got some big laughs in the theater we were in, and I hated that my adopted son’s family status was the brunt of a joke. I truly wish that people would consider how denigrating this joke is to adopted children, and I was disappointed it was used in the movie.

All told, the movie definitely has some aspects that might give pause to parents. I don’t regret having taken Jafta, but at age 7 I would consider him to be at the very low end in terms of the age I would consider appropriate for this movie. I think parents of kids between 7 and 11 should exercise caution and consider the maturity level of their child before seeing this movie. I would recommend it for the average 12-year-old and above . . . and dare I say this about a movie based on a comic book? I think it might be a fun date night movie as well.

what I want you to know: life after rape

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Tue, 01 May 2012 11:40:00 +0000

I miss my life before I was a victim of rape. I don't want people to feel bad for me. I don't want people to think I'm weak. Because I am not weak. I am broken. I also hate being the ʺvictimʺ. I feel guilty about it. I feel like I could have done something to change my circumstance. I hate talking about it. I wont talk about it if I don't feel like God is moving me to do it. And that may be the only reason I'm doing that here.

I'm now a STRONG feminist. I haven't loved a man since that day. It's been two years and I haven't even dated anyone. I have no desire to date. I have guys that are my friends, but I want to punch the general ʺmenʺ population in the face. I want you to know that I got closer to God after this happened. But I want you to know that my relationship with God struggles because of this anger. I want you to know that I do sometimes blame God. I have realized that my pain towards men now translates to God at times. I want you to know that this breaks my heart.

I want you to know that rape victims are every place you go. People don't talk about it though. I want you to know that rape is one of the hardest things to talk about. I am a camp counselor and I've had girls share their testimonies with me. Then I would share mine. Then they would finish the rest of their testimony explaining that they too are rape victims. I want you to know that it hurts me to know that so many women are afraid to tell their stories. I want you to know that if you are a victim of rape, you are not alone. I want you to know that if you use the term ʺrapeʺ as a form of expression...for example ʺI totally RAPED that testʺ please stop. That's the equivalent to ʺthat's so GAYʺ. It's just wrong.

kristen likes grey likes baby

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Tue, 01 May 2012 07:17:00 +0000

We are still away on our Disney World binge, taking a “Good Big or Go Home” approach to the greater Orlando area. Last night we stayed at the Magic Kingdom until 2am, riding every single ride that these kids were tall enough to go on. Here’s how that ended:

I’ve got a camera full of pictures and a head full of stories to share, but we’ve still got two days to go. In the meantime, check out my post over at Grey Likes Baby. I’ve been a long-tme fan of Grey Likes Baby for their inspiring ideas for the “well-styled family", so I sort of love that they let me guest post about how tacky my children like to dress. Here’s a preview:

Before I had kids, I had lofty visions of what my life as a mother would look like. It involved a home straight out of Room and Board, with hip furnishings and organic wooden toys. It involved children whose style was a perfect mix of bohemian chic and urban prepster. There was probably a meadow involved. We were probably eating homemade granola. This vision was so lovely, so pinnable . . . so perfect.

AND THEN I HAD CHILDREN.

Go read the rest here.

raising a daughter who likes sports

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Tue, 01 May 2012 05:03:00 +0000

This post is sponsored by P&G’s ‘Thank You Mom’ campaign.

My boys have a very natural affinity for all sports. Most days will find both of them in the front yard, rotating between tossing a football around, teeing off into our neighbor’s lawn, or playing handball against the garage wall. Getting them interested in sports is not something that required any effort or modeling on my behalf. With them, it’s a bigger struggle to get them to do quiet activities like drawing or reading.

My daughter India is more of a book-worm, and I’ve had to be more intentional (and a little creative) to get her interested in playing sports. I know that there are some moms who have strong opinions about the sports their children get involved with. I can remember having Jafta i

n tee-ball at age 5, and it was clear that some of those families had pre-determined before their child’s birth that their kid was gonna make a run for a professional baseball team. I don’t really care what sports my children choose. Mark played football in high school. I was a cheerleader and also played soccer.

I was never naturally athletic and my parents were more inclined to push performing arts over sports, so it’s really the influence of friends that landed me on a soccer team in high school. Still, I was never very competitive with it, and was as content sitting on the sidelines reading a book as I was being in the game. I don’t think that the concept of pushing my body physically was something I even understood until I was 34, and decided to sign up to run a half-marathon. It was eye-opening for me to experience the thrill of meeting goals, of pushing past physical limits, and of watching my body grow stronger.

I want that experience for my girls. I understand that, like me, their natural abilities may tend towards the arts, but I also want them to be active. India tried basketball last year and it wasn’t her thing. She did cheerleading this year and loved it. I think it improved her confidence and I’ve noticed her being a bit bolder and more willing to play with her brothers in physical ways. We are hoping to do some Tae Kwon Do and swimming this summer.

I know the joys of curling up with a good book, but I also want her to know the joy of pushing past physical limits, and I’m hoping with some gentle encouragement that can happen a bit earlier than her mid-30’s.

The P&G|Team USA Youth Sports Fund provides children around the country with access to sports. For every new “like” on the P&G ‘Thank You Mom’ Facebook page, the company will donate one dollar to the P&G|Team USA Youth Sports Fund, up to $100,000.

disney social media moms celebration–day 1 & 2

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Sat, 28 Apr 2012 16:51:00 +0000

We are having a blast here at Disney. I think my kids are still in shock about how much bigger the Disney World complex is than Disneyland in California.

Our first night here, we went to a pirate party. The kids were thrilled that they got to hang with their favorite Jake and the Neverland Pirates characters.

Mimi got to join us at the party. The kids were so happy to see her.

The kids got to have soda. This was the highlight of their day.

Our second day, Mark and the kids went into Animal Kingdom while I was in conference sessions, and then we met up and went back for a party after the park closed.

The time zone change and lack of naps have been a little hard for the kids. Can you tell?

Thanks to a generous friend who had some extra kids, my sisters and their kids got to join us for the evening parties. It was such a fun setting for the cousins to be together.

We’ve had a blast so far, but WE ARE EXHAUSTED. Stay tuned for scenes from our day at Epcot, that culminated with one of us in the First Aid center after a particularly nauseating turn on Mission: Space. (Spoiler alert: it wasn’t one of the kids).

getting out of the house this summer (a guide for hermit–prone moms of multiple small children)

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Sat, 28 Apr 2012 06:39:00 +0000

This post is brought to you by GoGo squeeZ.

When I only had a couple kids, I was pretty good at staying active and going on outings. Once my brood grew to four, it became increasingly difficult to maintain a lifestyle that involved outings. Or leaving the house. Between the potential meltdowns, the inevitable diaper blow-outs, and the mind-bogging difficulty of shuttling four kids across a parking lot with only two free hands, I settled into a routine of staying home unless I absolutely had to go somewhere. Unfortunately, this isn’t a great habit for me or for the kids. When we’re at home, I’m much less likely to engage in playing with them, because it’s just too tempting to get started on the dishes in the sink or the overflowing inbox. I have a hard time getting out of task-mode at home. Not to mention, the kids tend to upend every drawer and bin when we stay home, which means there is a lot more to clean. And the kids? They have much more fun when we get out of the house. So this summer, I’m going to try my best to get us out to a park or the beach at least a few times a week.

While I can’t always predict and strategize for a perfect day out, there are a few common denominators that seem to contribute to a successful day out:

Having a well-stocked car. I try my best to always replenish the car stashes at night, because I tend to be forgetful in the midst of getting us dressed and out the door. Our car stash involves a bag of older swimsuits for each child, a spare outfit for each child, water bottles, sun block, sand toys, band-aids, and of course a diaper bag with wipes and diapers. Having these things at-the-ready always ready makes life much easier, especially for those rare moments of spontaneity.

Setting things out the night before. Getting out the door is always my biggest challenge, so the more I can do the night before, the better. If we’re planning a beach day, it helps if I’ve got each child’s suit and shoes laid out, along with a bag of spare clothes by the door. There have been so many intended outings that I’ve skipped out on come morning because I was overwhelmed by all I needed to do before we could leave. Taking some time the night before (especially while the kids are sleeping) makes more a more peaceful morning where I’m more likely to follow through with a grand idea.

Making sunblock a part of the routine. Two of my kids burn every easily, and Jafta’s eczema means I have to be diligent about applying sunblock. We’ve made this a part of our morning routine, and have the kids apply their own lotion (from a pump dispenser) before getting dressed. That means I just have to do a kick application on their face (and usually a touch-up for Karis) before we hit the road.

Leaving a clean house. This is a hard one, but I find it keeps my sanity. For us, an outing usually means a good bit of work after coming home. Going to the beach tends to commit me to having to bath the kids once we get home, and means I’ve got a bit of laundry to do, too. If I leave the house a mess, I usually feel immediately overwhelmed by all the clean-up I’ve got to do when we get home, and regretful that we went out in the first place. If I can take the steps above to prepare the night before, and clean then as well, then I can usually get us out the door quickly before we’ve made a disaster of the house. For me, my outlook is much better about going out if the house is in order when we leave.

Having easy lunch options. Feeding the kids while we’re out is always the biggest hurdle for me. If I could do an outing and somehow not have to feed them, I’d be set. Unfortunately it seems like my kids are always immediately starving as soon as we arrive at our destination. Having a pantry stocked with easy-to-pack lunch options makes things much easier for me to be mobile with the kids. I’m a fan of making up a batch of rice and beans the night before, which is easy to scoop into thermoses in the morning. I love GoGo squeeZ’s easy applesauce pouches– they are shelf-stable, sugar-free. and don’t require a spoon, so I tend to keep these on hand in the diaper bag as well. And check out their new packaging and Apple Mango flavor:

Baby carrots, bananas, and snap peas are easy, healthy options for a portable, healthy snack.

Assuming the worst. Having unrealistic expectations is a sure-fire path to disappointment. Realistically, my outings won’t look like something on Pinterest. There will probably be whining, and spilled food, and maybe even a leaking diaper. It’s unlikely that all four of my children will be in a state of bliss the whole time, and inevitably we will run into naptime and a tired, cranky child will melt down. If I can remember, and even expect, that this is a part of the process, instead of freaking out when the kids behave like kids, then I’m usually a much calmer mom.

What are your best tips for getting out of the house? What are your biggest barriers? Do you prefer to be out-and-about, or do you have a tendency to stick close to home?

This post was sponsored by GoGo squeeZ. You can keep up with GoGO squeez on their facebook page.

default stress, and the fleeting nature of gratitude

noreply@blogger.com (kristen [rage against the minivan]) — Fri, 27 Apr 2012 19:33:00 +0000

I'm going to reveal some not-so-flattering aspects of my personality in this post, so there is a little trepidation here . . . but maybe it will resonate with some of you. I have a really difficult time with managing my stress. Granted, I have a lot going on . . . I have several jobs and four kids, and finding the balance between those things can be difficult. It would be easy to blame my stress level on these things, but the truth I know about myself is that stress seems to be a default for me regardless of what I have going on in my life. I feel stressed when I have to much going on, and I feel stressed when I have a break.

This week my stress was at a DEFCON level 5. Our family was invited to attend a conference at Disney World for women in social media. It involves some conference time for me, but it also includes a week of tickets to the Disney World parks and some really fun VIP experiences for the kids. I've been so excited for this event. Afterwards, we'll get to spend some time with my family in Florida. From there, I'll head down to Miami to speak at Mom 2.0 and reconnect with some dear friends. It’s an epic vacation time full of good things.

But instead of looking to all of this with joy, I've been filled with stress over the details. My laptop crashed and completely died - so I had to work off a different laptop and send mine in for data recovery. It all worked out but it was inconvenient. I was trying desperately to catch up on several writing assignments so that I could be present with the kids during this vacation. Mark had several speaking gigs last week which meant a little less time to get these things done. I had to pack for nearly two weeks away from home, along with packing up stuff for the kids. I was also trying to pack in such a way that there would be less stress on our trip. As if my anal-retentive packing techniques would somehow prevent mid-flight screaming or theme park meltdowns. Having their daily clothing organized will totally prevent Karis from acting like a two-year-old, right?

None of my stressors this week involved tragedies or insurmountable hurdles, but I was treating them as such. I was miserable and anxious for the better part of last week. It sort of came to a head one night when I found myself panicked and exhausted and unable to sleep at 3am. I stumbled out to the living room and decided to catch up on some blog reading. I logged into my google reader and these were the first few posts:

a woman who is grieving the loss of a baby
a friend who is surviving throat cancer and learning to eat whole foods again
a woman who is separated from her husband and dealing with crippling anxiety
a friend who is remembering the death of her teenage son two years ago
another blogger who is dealing with chronic pain and reconstructive surgeries after a life-threatening plane crash and severe burns that cover her body

And I can't sleep because I am having a hard time with packing. For Disney World. Wahhhh.

I had a little come-to-Jesus moment with myself that night in the dark. I gave myself a hand-slap for being so ridiculous and anxious about things that don't matter . . . things I should be grateful for. I reminded myself of times in my life that have been objectively stressful - and how in those times, I promised myself to never sweat the small stuff. I was bummed that, once again, I allowed my perspective to slip.

You know what doesn't really help in terms of learning gratefulness? Putting yourself into a self-induced shame spiral. But I did it anyway.

I know I'm not alone in this. I know that gratitude is an easy thing to aspire to, but a difficult place to live. Stress seems to be a default condition for me. It's one I'm working on.

I'm going to do my best, over the next two weeks, to live in a stress-free place. I'm going to try hard to slip into vacation mode, and hope that being away from my house and my computer and my usual commitments will help me be more present with my kids and more grateful for my blessings. That's my goal for the week. And for life, too.

But we’ll start here.