The Hip Mom's Guide

I'm on a Boat

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 16:33:00 +0000

If you're looking for a post about T Pain, this isn't it. You'll have to check Hulu or iTunes for that.

Nope, this is a family friendly post, people.

This morning, we pulled ourselves out of bed early to catch a high-speed ferry across the big lake. The ride's about 2 1/2 hours, just long enough for the boys to watch a movie ($4 each for headphones!) and for us to catch up on our reading while drinking pricey soda.

We're heading to see old friends, a bit of a theme this summer, which hopefully we can continue next year. Here's what I'm looking forward to: laughter, catching up, reconnecting, reminiscing, creating new memories, and, perhaps, a glass or two of wine.

What more could I ask?

Anybody else have plans for the weekend? Hope you enjoy yours, too.

Fun Summer Games for Kids: 9 of My Kids' Favorites

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 16:02:00 +0000

During the summer at our cottage, we are close technological cousins of the Amish. No landline. No television. No computer for goodness sakes. Wi-fi is a far off dream.

And yet my children survive. One might even argue that they thrive. Forced to find something else to do—I know, horrors!—they resort to good old-fashioned fun. And, surprisingly, when their friends arrive to visit, no one ever seems to notice our stunning lack of technological connectedness. Instead, their friends simply join in the latest game. It results in the kind of running, laughing, negotiating, and yes, even yelling, that's music to a parents’ ears. It’s a unique kind of joy.

Are you looking for a few ways for your kids to have fun without Sponge Bob, iCarly, or Guitar Hero? Invite some of their friends over and have them try a few of my boys’ favorites:

Ghost in the Graveyard. In this game, which is played at dusk or dark, the kids choose a “base” and a person to be “It,” just like with hide-and-seek. The person who’s “It” closes her eyes and counts to 12 in this manner: “One-o’clock, two-o’clock, three-clock…” all the way to “Midnight,” which as far as I can tell must be yelled with extreme vigor. All of the other kids run and hide. (They don’t hide together; each child has their own hiding spot). Once they choose a hiding spot, they can’t move—no sneaking to a new spot after the person who’s “It” starts looking. When any child who’s hiding sees the person who’s “It,” they yell “Ghost in the Graveyard!” and everyone runs like crazy for base. “It” tags as many of them as possible. Everyone who gets tagged is “It” (together) for the next round.
Sardines. This one’s also in the hide-and seek family, but can be played anytime of day. It’s sort of like reverse hide-and-seek. One person is chosen to hide. Everyone else closes their eyes and counts, together, to 30 (or any agreed-upon number). Then, they yell, “Ready or not, here we come!” and split up to find the Hider. When any seeker finds the person hiding, they quietly join them. The last one to find the group is the Hider the next time.
Hide and Seek Tag. How many hide-and-seek variations are there? Tons, apparently! In this one, one child is “It” and everyone else runs and hides. The person who’s “It” counts to 30 (or any agreed-upon number) and then yells, “Ready or not, here I come!” “It” seeks out the other kids. If she sees them, she tries to tag them. If she’s successful, they become her partner and help find and tag the other kids. If “It” doesn’t tag the child they find, that child can run off and hide again. There’s no “base” in this game. Kids keep running and yelling and tagging until everyone has been tagged. The first person who was tagged is “It” the next time.
Cornhole, the Bean Bag Game. “Corn-what?” you ask. That’s what I asked, anyway, the first time I heard of this game. I’m not sure if it’s a game unique to the Midwest, or if I was just out of the Cornhole loop all my life, but this is a recent discovery for us, courtesy of our good friends, now referred to as the Cornhole Pros. This game is perfectly acceptable to pull out for either kids or grown-ups, and is especially fun on those Sunday afternoons when friends are over for a burger and a beer. If you haven't heard of it before, click here for the scoop on what it is and how to play.
Croquet. Seriously, you know how to play this, right? You may not have played since you were 12, but I think just about everyone’s played it at least once. If somehow you missed it, you can read the instructions here. This is a good all-family game, and the kids loooove to beat the grown-ups. Get yourself a set.
Bocce ball. Here’s another game I didn’t know about until after the age of 25. I’m fairly certain I was introduced to it at a party when my husband’s Italian relatives dusted off an old set from the garage. The great thing about Bocce is that you can play with almost anyone – young and old alike can be really good or really bad at Bocce. Even even small kids can play (small like 5, not like, 2, unless they’ve got exceptional throwing skills!) The gist is that you throw the little white ball and then everyone tries to get their ball closest to the little white one. How’s that for a generic explanation. Very detailed instructions, here. If you don’t have a set, I highly recommend it for lots of Forced Family Fun.
Ultimate Frisbee. The way my kids play this game, it’s kind of like football with a Frisbee. There are two teams, and each team has an end zone. The point of the game is to get the Frisbee into your endzone and score a point. To start, each team lines up in front of an endzone. The team with the Frisbee yells, “Ultimate!” then throw the Frisbee to the other team. The player who catches it can take up to 2 steps and then must throw it to another teammate, working their way to the endzone. (I think my kids made up this 2-steps part. In “real” Ultimate, I don’t think any steps are allowed. Experts, feel free to weigh in!) The defense (the team who initially threw the Frisbee), can’t hit other players or take the Frisbee directly out of the opponents hands, but they can block throws, knock down the Frisbee, or intercept it. If an incomplete pass is made and the Frisbee hits the ground, the opposing team gets the Frisbee at that spot and heads towards their endzone. The team with the most points wins.
Badminton. Put the net up in your yard & hit the birdie over the net. That’s the gist of it, although there are all sorts of official rules. You can read them, here.
Traditional games: football, basketball, tennis, soccer. All still fun.

There are a few other games my kids also enjoy, but they aren’t favorites, so I didn’t list them above. Jarts (aka Lawn Darts) is one. We play with the newer version with the blunted ends, not the kind my brother and I tried to kill each other with. Ladderball is another, although I suspect they’d like this better if we had a more sturdy set. Ours is the plastic version with many, many pieces, some of which have mysteriously gone missing.

How about your kids? Do they have some favorite outdoor games you could share? Are these some of their favorites, too? Let me know what they like or we’re missing and I’ll share the ideas with other moms in a future post!

I Think I'm In Love With Wendy Kopp

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 10:47:00 +0000

The first time I heard her name, she was almost a peer. Just a smidge ahead of me in school (except I wasn't at Princeton), I knew her name because she'd put her thesis to the test. She theorized about sending new graduates who excel at academics--not necessarily education majors--into the toughest areas of our country, the areas where no one wants to start their teaching career. And then she did it.

She put her idea into practice and my roommate applied to be one of the first teachers selected for Teach for America.

My roommate grew up sheltered and, dare I say, privileged, in a beautiful town outside of Minneapolis. We attended a similarly sheltered private school on the east coast. Our friends were accepting jobs with Morgan Stanley and Anderson Consulting. She accepted the role with Teach for America and started teaching in Compton, CA, near Los Angeles. She taught at an elementary school that was padlocked shut at 4:00 each afternoon for safety reasons; better get out of there and safely home before then. She has a lifetime of stories from those two years of teaching.

And Wendy Kopp's story goes on. TFA's been around for almost 20 years now. It's grown and expanded and become the center of many discussions about reforming education in our country. And Ms. Kopp's grown with it.

But for all of the things I admire about Wendy Kopp, I think what I most admire is this: She didn't file her thesis in a drawer. She didn't have this great idea, write about it, develop it, and then turn it into cocktail party fodder, bantering back and forth with cute men in khakis and loafers, about how she had some really great ideas about reforming education. Instead, she raised capital and she put herself out there. She tried it. And she made it work.

I love her for that.

I love that she took her Ivy League education and did something powerful and meaningful with it. I love that she had an idea about how to change the world and she didn't listen to the naysayers that said it could never happen. What a wonderful message for our kids: Work hard. Think about others. Develop your idea. Pursue it. Stick with it. Figure out how to do it better.

Thanks, Wendy.

I Can't Stand My Mother-in-Law

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 16:37:00 +0000

No, no, not me! That’s not my sentiment. (Hello, Mother-in-Law, Faithful Reader that you are.) But it’s a sentiment that’s echoed in women’s circles day in and day out. When it comes to the women who raised our husbands, there’s rarely middle ground. As newlyweds, we try to embrace one another’s families. We put on our manners, our best game face, and avoid discussing "hot button" topics. We try, as new wives, we really do. But in time, we discover that people are people. There are bound to be disagreements.

Love ‘em or loathe ‘em, they’re here to stay. And we should be glad for that—because if all goes well, one day we'll be the mother-in-law. M-I-L’s to-be, that’s us. Needless to say, it’s to our benefit to figure out how to live with them. Not literally, of course (!), but to survive, and even thrive, as part of the same family.

Today, over at Blissfully Wed, I offer a few suggestions for navigating these waters. Hope you'll pop by and read 'em.

photo credit: blhphotography

Thank Goodness I Never Said I Was Perfect

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 10:44:00 +0000

In case you missed it, I'm not known for my technological prowess. But I have figured out to how schedule my blog posts, which comes in handy since I'm wi-fi-less for the summer. I write just about every day, and then every few days I hit the library for some lovely wi-fi access and to schedule upcoming posts.

Except sometimes I goof.

This week, for example, I scheduled Simple Rules for Summer Visitors to post on Tuesday. It did. For yesterday, I scheduled You Are My Sunshine. But, well, it turns out that I accidentally scheduled it to post on Tuesday also. So not many people got a chance to see Simple Rules for Summer Visitors before it got sent to 2nd page down blog neverland. Oops.

I'm trying, friends. I'm trying.

The biggest tech problem I'm having right now is that if you subscribe to my blog through Google Reader, Blogger is sending the wrong feed. Now, how on earth I fix that, I don't know. I need someone to help me, I'm just not sure who. I'm working on it. If you have any recommendations, please pass them along.

But for now, I'm off to the beach with my boys. I have absolutely no problems with that.

You are My Sunshine

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 10:50:00 +0000

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away.

The other night dear, when I was sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms. When I awoke dear, I was mistaken, and I bowed my head and I cried.

How many times I sang this song to you, my sweet baby. I stood by your crib and sang; I rocked you in the rocker and sang; I sat on the edge of your bed and sang.

I can’t believe you’re already 7.

Happy Birthday, Sunshine!

Simple Rules for Summer Visitors

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 10:41:00 +0000

During the summer at the lake, we have lots and lots of visitors. We’re lucky and we have fun friends with excellent manners. But apparently, everyone isn't so lucky. In talking to some other friends with lake houses, I’ve discovered just how fortunate we are. I was shocked to find out how, umm, impolite some of their guests are. So here, courtesy of my thoughtful friends and houseguests, are some Simple Rules for Summer Visitors:

Mi casa es su casa. This old saying, which, if somehow you don’t know, means My house is your house, is more than an offer of hospitality. It’s an offer to fully participate. My friend Sharee’ is great at this: she jumps right in and helps, without ever having to be asked. She helps make meals, she helps with kids, she helps pour drinks…whatever we’re doing, she chips right in. I love her for it. Take a tip from Sharee’ and stop waiting to be waited on. Get your own darn drink. And pour one for me, too, please. I'm thirsty.
Bring something. Think about the time of day/days you’ll be visiting. My other friend, Janet, wouldn’t dream of showing up without something in hand. Usually, a lovely bottle of wine, but often something else, too. When I have a bunch of friends over for dinner, for example, they all bring something. It’s summer. I don’t work here. Thank goodness they know that! If your friends don’t, give them this lesson from Janet: don’t show up empty handed.
Clean up after yourself. Surely, your mother taught you this lesson when you were barely entering kindergarten. But perhaps you’ve forgotten. Or perhaps you’re lazy. Whatever the case, strive to be more like my friend Sheri, who has the kitchen cleaned up before I can clear all the plates. It’s so easy to have her visit because she isn’t sitting in the living room with her gin & tonic while I’m rinsing dishes and stuffing them into the dishwasher. She’s standing right next to me in the kitchen, both filling that dishwasher as fast as we can, while we enjoy our G&Ts with our other hand.
Beach fare. If you’ll be visiting and heading to the beach with kids, it’s always nice to bring snacks and drinks to share. Or, at the very least, bring a few treats for your own kids. Either way works. But if you bring nothing, everyone else is sharing their snacks with your kids, who are standing there looking sad and hungry when the popcorn and Pringles come out, but who have nothing to offer in return. It’s sort of pathetic.
Take some time. If you are a multi-day and multi-night visitor, please feel free to enjoy some time on your own. Most hostesses, although I will admit, not all, love it when week-long guests go off to explore on their own for awhile. My aunt and uncle were here for a long weekend, and they thought nothing of walking into town for breakfast on their own or taking a drive through the country. Although I wasn’t hoping they’d leave, it did give me the chance to get a few things done while they were gone. I’m sure they enjoyed a little time on their own, and I appreciated having a little space, too. Our friends the Joneses are also good at this. When they came to visit for a week, they took two different day trips to nearby sights. Perfect. They get to see some of what they want. We get to keep some sort of routine. All of us enjoy drinks together in the evening, and still enjoy several days in one another’s company. Now that’s what I call a lovely visit.

How to Throw a Jungle Party for Kids

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 08:17:00 +0000

As you may know, I’m not a big fan of the commercial party for kids. I understand the appeal of the Sponge Bob et. al, parties—kids like the shows and the theme is ready-made. Hit the party store and you’ll be hard pressed not to find napkins, plates and goody bags pre-printed with the logo du jour. But something about the commercialization of children’s birthday parties rubs me the wrong way. So we typically go with a general theme, and build from there, although I do confess to throwing a Superhero party one year, complete with a Batman Cake (I used black icing & made the bat signal in yellow – it looked very cool but what a mess those kids were!). I also made capes for all of the kids, and by “made” I mean I cut the shape out of black fabric, attached some ribbon to tie them on, and called it good. (The capes had names on them like Super Sam and Mighty Matthew, which sounds totally lame but the kids loooooved their personalized superhero gear. They’re kids, remember?)

But, generally speaking, we skip a Sponge Bob party in favor of an Under the Sea party. Or we have a party with a Race Car cake. Or, you might recall, we've had a Pirate Party with this awesome Pirate Ship cake.

This year, we went wild with a jungle theme.

Now, by wild, I mean that I wasn’t really planning a party and was caught by surprise when my youngest wanted one. So I threw this together quickly, and cheaply, and as usual, the kids didn’t know the difference. I love that. So if you’re up for a Bungle in the Jungle with kids, here are a few ideas:

Start with the cake. Nothing screams Birthday Party quite like a Jungle Cake. You can order it or make it, but I say make this one—it’s so easy. Nothing creative, really, other than the fancy placement of jungle animals around the kingdom. It was sort of fun, actually; channeling the inner child and all that, I suppose.

Throw in some vine. I’ve been blogging long enough now to know that lots of you are very creative. In that case, you will scoff at my party décor. You will take this idea and run so far with it that your home or yard or garage will actually resemble Africa. But party décor is not my forte, so I don’t mind, go ahead and scoff. Improve on the idea-I’m all for it as long as I don’t have to do it, too. Simply open up some paper grocery bags, cut them into strips, and twist the strips into vines. I got fancy at the end and had my kids cut out green leaf shapes from construction paper, to add that authentic jungle feel. Improve away, creative types.

Find some Jungle Fabric. For a quick and easy decoration, hit your local fabric store for an inexpensive tablecloth to help set the mood. I scored this one for about $5 – and I cut a piece off the end to use as the blindfold for Pin the Leaf on the Vine (more on that, later).

Indulge in a tatt. Yes, my friends, I’m advocating tattoos, here. And, guaranteed, this will be the only kind I will ever cheer for. When kids arrive at the party, have them choose a couple of tatts from a jungle-themed assortment: we had lions, tigers, monkeys, snakes—they loved choosing and showing off their new body art.

Pin the Leaf on the Vine. This is the kind of game that drives my husband crazy, and I do them at every kid party anyway. It’s the same old game, with a brand-new name. For this one, simply pre-make a few leaves per child, with their name printed on the leaf. Add a blindfold, a few spins, and they’re off to try to “pin” (double-sided tape) the leaf onto the vines (that you have already taped onto the door/wall/whatever). I wasn’t sure about this one, but the kids were cracking up. And, cheating, I’m pretty sure.

Lion, Lion, Hyena. Yep, you got it. Another game by a different name. This is Duck Duck Goose with one variation: when we were finished playing Pin the Leaf on the Vine, I folded the blindfold, and tied a knot in the end to make a lion’s tail. The child who was “it” tucked the end into their pocket and when he yelled Hyena, the child he tapped had to try to pull the tail out of his pocket as they ran around the circle of kids. They could’ve played this the entire time. It added to the fun that the “big kids” joined in (my 10 & 12 year old, and a friend)—how cool was it to catch the tail when one of them was “it”?!

Jungle Charades. My older son found cartoon pictures of jungle animals online & printed them out for us. We folded them, then the kids chose animals to act out. Well, that was the idea. We had the game ready but I forgot all about it. And they were busy with the Jungle Cave. You try it, though. It sounds fun.

Jungle Cave. This one proves the theory that all kids need for entertainment is an empty box. We got a couple of washer/dryer boxes from Home Depot and a couple of large boxes from a furniture store, taped them together, added some branches (what luck that our neighbor was pruning that day!) and called it the jungle cave. If I were the more creative type, I could’ve added fabric inside, or hanging vines, or other scary nuances, but I’m not and they never noticed. If you are, though, knock yourself out. They had a blast with the cave.

The Great Peanut Hunt. Obviously, this only works if none of the kids (or their siblings!) have a peanut allergy. In that case, you could probably use those orange peanut-shaped candies, but since they’re not wrapped…gross! I’m not sure it would be worth the time to individually wrap them. I’m sure you could find something else. At any rate, my older boys ran around before the party, hiding peanuts (in the shell) around the jungle cave, play set, and backyard. The kids were elephants, and all of the elephants received a paper lunchbag with their name on it. Then they ran around like wild monkeys trying to find as many peanuts as they could. Mayhem ensued.

Coconut War. This game exists solely because my son wanted water balloons at his party. Since I have two older sons—and one of their friends—who were willing to play the lions, it worked. The little kids, or monkeys, stood on our 2^nd story deck beaming water balloons at the lions, who ran around in the yard below. We couldn’t have made enough water balloons!

Party Favors. I’m not very fond of the Goody Bag concept, and usually skip it in favor of handing out one of those huge twirly lollipops and a helium balloon as kids head out the door. This time, though, I decided to buy plastic jungle cups & write the kids’ names on them with a Sharpie. I filled them with bubbles, a candy necklace, a twirly straw, a couple of take-home tattoos, and a few jungle animals. (You can see them in the photo above, with the cake & jungle fabric.) Next year: the return of the large, twirly, lollipop!

Supply List:

cake, icing, & animals for the top
jungle fabric for tablecloth, blindfold, and lion’s tail
jungle tattoos
large furniture boxes or washer/dryer boxes (free at furn stores or Home Depot-just ask)
branches to decorate jungle cave
duct tape to hold cave together
lots of paper grocery bags, woven into vines
green construction paper for leaves – to decorate vines & to use in Pin the Leaf on the Vine game
paper lunchbags w/ kids’ names, for the Great Peanut Hunt
peanuts in shell (or substitute)
papers with jungle animal names (or cartoon pictures) on them, for Jungle Charades
water balloons
party favors of your choice; mine: jungle cup, bubbles, candy necklace, jungle tattoos, plastic jungle animals

Inexpensive Family Fun: 5 Frugal Ideas

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 10:40:00 +0000

Do recent economic woes have you wondering what to do with the kids this summer? Here are 5 ideas to help you forgo expensive camps and memberships and indulge in some old-fashioned, inexpensive, family fun.

1. Pack a Picnic. For the same amount of money it would cost you to eat at home, in the same humdrum kitchen, at the same humdrum hour, you can pack it all up in a basket and head out the door for a new adventure. Grab your basket and set out for the nearest beach, lake, or stream. Doing also means free (or inexpensive) water fun – easy hours of entertainment for kids of all ages. If the cost of gas and/or distance of a body of water makes this idea prohibitive, forgo the water and find a nearby park. The simple change of mealtime venue is a surefire way to lift everyone’s spirits.
Hit the Nature Trails. Grab your hiking boots or tennis shoes, pack some water and a camera, and head for the Great Outdoors. Not since Thoreau wrote Walden has anyone come close to describing the wonder of communing with nature. And though few of us will ever forsake civilization for the woods for as long as he did, his words help us understand the depth of this beauty. “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” We can help our kids develop a love for the outdoors by getting them out of the house and into the woods early and often. Let them lead a hike, explore the trails, discover new worlds: this is learning and living at its finest.
Kitchen Concoctions. This idea isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s not my favorite, either, but the kids love it. Gather up some slightly stale marshmallows, old graham crackers, fruit, whipped cream, sugar, salt, vinegar and other inexpensive, or unlikely to be used soon, foods. Then let the kids mix and create to their hearts content. They can concoct some disgusting stuff, let me tell you, but they loooove this “game.” Just don’t hand them the vanilla. That takes Frugal out of the equation.
Kick, Serve, or Shoot a Ball. Research study after research study laments the growing obesity problem of America’s youth. Go against the grain and get out there and play sports with your kids. Take an hour—or a half an hour—to shoot baskets, kick goals, or volley at the net. You don’t need a fancy club membership. Most towns have free public tennis courts and basketball courts; plenty of schools have soccer fields that sit empty all summer long. Grab a few of your kids’ friends and get a game going. You’ll thank me later, I promise.
Read A Book. Everyone knows that libraries lend books for free, but not everyone goes. Go! Choose a book you can read aloud to your kids and spend some time each day transported to another world together. A few suggestions: The Tale of Despereaux (Kate DiCamillo), A Cricket in Times Square (George Selden), The Magician’s Nephew (C. S. Lewis), Half Magic (Edward Eager).

These changing economic times don’t mean less family fun, but they might mean a bit more work on our part, as parents. The farm where we picked strawberries this year puts it like this:

You pick, you pay. We pick, you pay more.

I love that line. That’s life, right? When we do the legwork, we pay less.

What’s true for berry pickers is true for family entertainment: it’s more work to pack a picnic than to drive through McDonald’s, but it’s a lot less expensive and in the end, it’s better for all of us and a lot more fun. So let’s break out the bread, folks, and get packing.

photo credits: Crystl, KitAy

Strawberry Fields Forever (or U-Pick Strawberries with Kids)

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 09:40:00 +0000

“Mom, that was so much fun,” wasn’t the reaction I expected. I expected something more along the lines of “It was so hot,” or “That made my back hurt,” or “Why can’t we just buy our strawberries at the grocery store like everyone else?” But, “That was so much fun!” wasn’t on my list of expected responses.

My memories of picking strawberries as a child are fond memories, but only because it was something my mom and brother and I did together. I’d be absolutely lying if I said it was fun. Hot? Yes. It was sweat dripping through my hair, sunshine burning my shoulders, hot. (It was the South, remember?) Back-breaking? Yes. Picking those berries in the Carolina sun seemed to take hours. For the record, we picked 8 quarts in 40 minutes today, so how long could it have been, really?

Nonetheless, I recall that from many years ago day fondly. (Did we go more than once? I couldn’t say for sure.) I remember that my little brother ate more than he picked and that he was covered with dirt and strawberry juice. I remember my mom, patient with us that day, encouraging us to choose the ripe ones. I remember how much better they tasted, because we picked them ourselves—my first inkling of the rewards of hard labor.

And so it happened that I decided my boys should try it, too. No matter that it might not be fun, or that today was our hottest day of the summer, or that only two of my three boys really like the sweet taste of strawberries. We would go. Picking berries would be part of their family tapestry, too.

It was a pleasant surprise that they were industrious. That they got right down and started picking with enthusiasm. That not one complained of the heat. I expected a few quarts and too many complaints to continue. Instead, they each asked if they could fill another basket. At $1.50 a quart, who am I to say no? Fill ‘em up boys. We’ll be gorging for days.

And we’ll be back again next year.

The Wisdom of Age

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 15:23:00 +0000

I turned a year older this year. It’s funny how that happens, isn’t it? Age sneaks up on us, I think. For example, I don’t know a single person who says, “You know, I really do feel 65.” Do you? Everyone is younger, inside, than they are on the outside. The life clock keeps ticking and we run to keep up and suddenly we find that years have gone by and we’re older than we think we are.

Interestingly, the older we get, the smarter we get; it’s true that there’s no teacher quite like experience. The pain of prior missteps and the anguish of poor choices guides us as much as the beauty and peace of better times. Thoughtful people learn and grow through the years—you know who they are when you meet them. And yet we don’t place enough value on this wisdom. Instead, we hurry about our business, and we text and we talk and we keep moving. Marriages fall apart and jobs are lost and children are born and parents die and we find ourselves facing midlife with all sorts of questions about how and when and why it all is as it is. And yet we don’t stop to ask those who have gone before us. We see them, but we don’t really see them. Awash in the culture of youth and celebrity we forget that the answers might not be in the latest best-seller or at our new counselor’s office, but right there in the collective wisdom of our elders.

It’s there for the asking, I think. Shouldn’t we take advantage of it? We do it for jobs; when we want to excel but don’t know the next steps, we call a friend of a friend who’s been there. We do it for love; when we’re first falling head over heels, we call our more experienced ex-roommate to find out how she knew if he was the one. But we don’t do it with life. Not often enough.

I think I’ll start asking.

photo credit: Jiaren Lau

The Birds and the Boys

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 13:56:00 +0000

This morning the peonies are blooming and the birds are chirping and those @#$ squirrels are eating my birdseed again. Overgrown rats, that’s what they are.

Moving on from the squirrels…there are many other enjoyable aspects of being an early bird today. No, it’s not my nature to be up and at ‘em like this—you know I like to milk the morning for all I can—but today I’m here, tea in hand, listening to the outside world. As always happens on mornings like this, I’m surprised by the volume of sound the birds and frogs and other creatures out there produce. They’re small, but not silent. Amidst the daily cacophony of football and capture the flag, these sounds are drowned out, and it’s lovely, just now, to sit and listen to them in their loud glory.

=====

Yesterday morning, the boys rode their bikes to the library while I got organized. They returned, books secured, and, still on bikes, we headed to the Farmer’s Market. The boys headed straight for the bakery stall – the cinnamon rolls were calling them. Then we bought what turned out to be the best strawberries I’ve had in years. It makes me want to move to a tropical climate, where fresh fruit can be in season, locally, all year long. Think that will happen? Yeah, me neither.

=====

As the boys played at the beach the other day, I had such a sense of their similarities and differences. I watched them brave the cold water (68°), one tiptoeing, one running full on, one torn between the two. I watched them splash and dive and laugh. And later, when they’d had their fill, they quietly went their own ways. One settled down with a warm towel and a book; another stayed in the water, challenging himself, as always, to brave more; the third dug with the little metal shovel for hours, hours!, until he completed his lengthy river through the sand. I love these moments: boys together, boys alone, everyone content. They come too infrequently for me, never often enough, and they remind me of the pure joy of raising these boys.

Homework in Kindergarten?

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 21:52:00 +0000

In her recent New York Times article, Kindergarten Cram, Peggy Orenstein says this:

“Jean Piaget famously referred to “the American question,” which arose when he lectured in this country: how, his audiences wanted to know, could a child’s development be sped up? The better question may be: Why are we so hellbent on doing so?”

I second the question.

Ms. Orenstein described searching for the right kindergarten for her daughter, and being disappointed that the vast majority of them assigned nightly homework to 5- and 6-year olds. Eventually found the right fit; she chose a school that doesn’t assign homework until the 4^th grade. Still early, she feels, but it’s better than kindergarten.

I have to agree. As a parent, I am a strong believer in a solid education. Our kids should understand our country’s history and it’s place in world history. They should have a solid grasp of mathematical concepts and know the difference between a noun and a verb. If they can also learn not to turn nouns INTO verbs, I’d love it, but that might be asking a bit much these days, when words like ‘journaling’ are acceptable parts of the vernacular. So, noun vs. verb, I’ll take it.

But I’m also a strong believer in letting kids be kids. I’m a proponent of downtime and family time and not keeping up with Joneses, who are probably up to their eyeballs in debt anyway. There’s an upside, I think, to kids being bored and unscheduled some of the time. Give creativity a chance—kids come up with all sorts of interesting things to do when “there’s nothing to do.”

It also seems to me that this desire to get ahead, to teach our 4-year olds to read and multiply, is directly related to another article I read in the in the NY Times. Two years ago, in For Girls, It’s Be Yourself, and Be Perfect, Too, Sara Rimer discussed the excruciatingly high expectations girls face today. It pained me to read it. If you haven’t read it already, you should. All parents should, because although this article specifically focuses on the pressures for girls, many of them apply to boys as well.

In myriad ways, we are pushing our kids to learn more, be more, do more sooner. Faster. Better.

And why?

It’s a complicated question with complicated answers. We’re all driven by different experiences and desires that influence our parenting. I think it’s a question we should stop to ask ourselves. And then we should be brave enough to let our kids be kids even when their peers are light years ahead, in more ways than one.

And I’m hanging onto the hope that when they’re older, much older, they’ll thank us.

What do you think?

A Few Things We Can Learn From Military Couples

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 19:08:00 +0000

My mother’s right hand rested on the large panes of the airport windows. I watched silently as she choked back her tears and dabbed her eyes. I saw her tuck her fear and worry away, in a place deep inside where we couldn’t see. She straightened up, turned to face us with a small smile, and drove us home.

As a military pilot, my dad spent his share of time on deployments--living away from home, most often on an aircraft carrier practicing maneuvers. These were usually 6-months stints, but occasionally lasted as long as a year. As a child, this meant that I missed my dad, sure, but I was blessed with the naïveté of childhood: I always knew he’d come home. He’d miss some basketball games, we wouldn’t go to the golf course for awhile, and his easy-to-open wallet would be MIA for a time, but eventually he’d return and life would get back to normal.

And for us, it did. He returned safely every single time, and our family weathered the small storms of re-adjusting to life as a family of 4 under the same roof. As I think about those adjustments, I realize how well the rest of us would be served to apply some of the same ideas. Click here to read my post at Wedded Bliss about 4 ways we can learn from military couples.

photo credit: larryzou

My Wal-Mart Protest, or Why I Shop at Target

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 14:55:00 +0000

Back in the dark ages, we lived in a small Midwest town (Go Packers!) where visiting a Target store was a distant fantasy. The nearest one was at least ½ hour away, and with two babies, I wasn’t making that trek on a regular basis. Instead, we shopped for life’s necessities at our local Wal-Mart, an easy 5-minute drive away. It was clean, and the people were friendly—heck, it was Wisconsin, they were all friendly, and the prices were low. Low was good; money was tight. Still, I envied my friends in bigger cities, with their fancy Target’s just down the street. Their grass was greener, and their stores were prettier, for sure.

It wasn’t long before we moved to a small city in another state, which, relatively speaking, was a very large city. And the proof was in the strip mall: our very own, very lovely, Tar-jay. Hooray! Closer to my house and way more fun than the local Wal-Mart, I found myself wasting money there on a regular basis. It was fantastic.

Sadly, though, there were a few occasions when Target didn’t have the item I desired. I know! It’s so hard to believe, isn’t it? On those days, I would drive the additional 3 long miles to Wal-Mart to find the aforementioned item.

And then.

One day, I needed to return an item to Wal-Mart. I waited in the hideously long line, with some friendly people, some seriously rude people, and a few who may or may not have bathed recently. After forever, I reached the counter, handed over my item and my receipt, and was promptly treated like a thief robbing the store of their oh-so-meager profits. The clerks were so completely inept and discourteous that I decided, right then and there:

I don’t care if Target doesn’t have my item, I’m not coming back to Wal-Mart.

Thus began my 3-year protest, where I would find whatever I needed elsewhere, or simply forgo a purchase rather than add my hard-earned money to the coffers at the Rudest Store on Earth.

So, yeah, I guess sometimes I hold a grudge. I’m working on that.

The Start of Summer, Boys, Me, and Football

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 13:18:00 +0000

Know what I love best about this time of year? No alarm clock! That’s right. I will eke every extra second I can out of a cool summer morning, breeze blowing, sun shining through the window, kids still quiet. It’s the most peace I get. Ever. And I love it.

Last week was our first week without school, but instead of relaxing at home we decided to make the usually 11 ½ hour-but-this-time-13-hour-trek to Virginia to see my parents. It was just the boys and me–my husband is smart that way. The boys had a great time playing basketball with my dad,

hiking through the woods with my mom,

and sightseeing with both of them.

They also enjoyed golfing and making disgusting creations in my mother’s kitchen, but I stayed far away from that. Instead, I had a great time not being in charge of dinner and running away to visit old friends.

Those two things come pretty close to leisurely mornings on the Great Things in Life chart, don’t you think?

This week, we returned for soccer tryouts.

Except it turns out that we didn’t need to, because my son has decided to forgo travel soccer this year in favor of football this fall. Does this make me nervous? Do you know me at all? Yes, yes, it makes me very nervous. But I understand well the desire of an almost teenager to play the sport many of his friends play. I understand the need to discover, for yourself, what you’re capable of. I understand that this is only partly about sports, and more about life lessons, which is the only reason I’m on board. So this fall, we’ll have not one, but two boys in football, and one little guy still scoring on the soccer field.

It will be a nice change, I think. After I got over my initial surprise, I began to look forward to a year without the year-round soccer commitment. More time for play. More time for other sports. More time for skiing! More time for lots of other interests.

Now that's something I can cheer for.

18 Years Later...

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 19:18:00 +0000

I always knew I did a good job of choosing friends! :)

Seriously, though, do you want to know what I think is absolutely heart-warming?

Absolutely heart-warming is seeing a friend after 18 years and not missing a beat. It's watching my friend parent her 3 little boys being boys, knowing that she's acting just as she would if I weren't there. It's listening to the story of her last 18 years and loving the authenticity, the this-is-perfectly-her-life depth of it. It's appreciating that even though we've grown and matured, and sure, we've aged, we can still be ourselves. No jewelry, no fancy cars, no bragging rights necessary. Just us.

That, my friends, is more than heart-warming. It's life-affirming, friendship-perpetuating, and downright awesome.

Happy Friday. Now get on out there and have some fun with your friends!

Whew, It's Hot!

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 12:33:00 +0000

What do a 13-hour drive, 99 degree weather, and thankfulness have to do with one another? See my post over at Midwest Parents today to find out.

Driving East

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Tue, 09 Jun 2009 00:56:00 +0000

Today:

Up at 5AM
Kids up at 5:40
2 kids in car at 5:45
Bathroom break for the other
6:00 on the road
6:04 - accidently went north; exit, turn around, go south
7:00 kids' bathroom break
8:20 seriously! another bathroom break, so McDonald's too
5 more bathroom breaks; 1 diet pepsi stop; 1 Starbucks stop
13 hours later: sit down to dinner with my mom

Tomorrow will be easier!

Anticipating Summer

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 22:19:00 +0000

Is it Friday yet?

Because, really, I'm all done with this week.

I'm done with homework on warm, sunny nights.

I'm done with book fairs and PTO meetings and classroom parties.

I'm done with piano practice and soccer practice and lacrosse practice.

I'm done.

It's time to change things up, and I'm ready for the change.

I'm ready for sand and sun and drinks by the firepit.

I'm ready for no practice and no practice, and hey!, no practice.

I'm ready friends and laughs and relaxed mornings.

Is it Friday yet?

I'm ready. Are you?

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Carolina in My Mind

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 07:50:00 +0000

I left North Carolina when I was 18 and never got much of a chance to go back. I visited, sure, but everybody knows it's not the same. It's true that you can't really go back, and even more true when your parents don't live there anymore. And if your old friends' parents don't live there anymore either? Well, just forget it. Even if you do go back, there's nowhere to go.

This is the odd plight of military brats around the world. Thrown together as kids in new schools in new towns every few years, we made tight bonds fast. We understood the fears, we accepted the difficulties, we embraced others like us and were meaner than we should've been to those who weren't. We soaked in the sun on the Carolina coast and turned up the music on our boom boxes; we laid by the pool, slathered with baby oil, and bared our souls in the hot sun; we stayed out as late as we possibly could and laughed our heads off at every opportunity. It wasn't all funny. We had all sorts of issues in our crowd: binge-drinking, drugs, pregnancy, and eating disorders all reared their ugly heads. But we stood strong. We held hands. We talked late into the night. We cried the tears that only BFFs can cry for one another. We made it through.

I moved away a week after graduation and over the next few years I fell in love with New England. If I had time off, that's where I wanted to spend it. Most of my southern friends' parents relocated, and I lost touch with many of them. A few of us hung in there, some for years even, but after six moves I eventually lost track of most of them.

And then came Facebook. I can't tell you how nostalgic it's made me to be reminded of those times at the beach. It's an entire chapter of my life that feels lost, sometimes, because I didn't go back and it feels like it just ended, rather abruptly. But it's not lost. Not at all. And in case I thought it was, my friends have old pictures to prove it.

I just hope they don't post all of them!

photo credits: Petra Broda and cletch

Field Day

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 18:47:00 +0000

This is my 8th year volunteering at Field Day and I still love it. Next year, both of my older two boys will be done with Field Day, and I'll only have this sweet one left to volunteer for. I love the look on his face as he races his buddies - especially the one where he's peeking to the side to see who's in front!

As I look through the photos from the day, I experience some sort of brain malfunction, where I understand the concept of time but not the reality of it. I know full well that there are 60 minute in every hour and 24 hours in every day. I understand that 12 months make a year and the clock never stops ticking. But somehow, I can't comprehend that my babies are so big so fast. That my first is heading to middle school next year stops me cold. Field Day disappeared for him two years ago. That my second loses Field Day next year makes my brain foggy. Wasn't he just 2? And now this one, this last little guy finally has a Field Day to call his own. No longer a helper on the sideline, shagging balls and handing the big boys water. His turn has finally come, and baby, he's running his heart out.

Every Three Minutes

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Fri, 29 May 2009 06:52:00 +0000

My mom faced breast cancer like the trouper she is. She squared her shoulders, took the chemical beatings, and shouldered on. Did she falter? Did she cry? I’m sure she did. But as she has for all of my life, she kept her sorrow private, wiped her tears, and put the fighting gloves on for the rest of it.

Because my mom is like this, I knew she’d go in fighting. But I didn’t know how hard it would be to watch her fight. I didn’t know what it would feel like to see her lose her hair, select her scarves, draw on her eyebrows, and still make it to the grocery store. I didn’t know that even if she beat the cancer, the after-effects of the poison that killed it would linger, reminding us all of the silent stalker that came after her.

And it’s not just her. My mother-in-law’s dear, dear friend lost her battle recently, with my mother-in-law by her side. My friend Janet’s mom fought breast cancer over 10 years ago. Last year it returned, and she’s fighting again. Another friend – a mom of 4 young boys – is battling breast cancer right now. She’s not even 40.

Is it surprising that every 3 minutes someone in the United States is diagnosed with breast cancer? You know someone, right? Sure you do. We all do. It’s that scary. And yet in the midst of the fear, there’s hope. Hope remains because—like my mom, and Janet’s mom, and my mother-in-law’s friend, and my young girlfriend—there are a lot of fighters in this world, and some of them are doctors who are working hard to find a cure. As they fight that fight, they need our help. They need our funds.

There are a million different ways to contribute. You might recall that last year some friends and I walked in the Race for the Cure, with their pretty pink port-a-potties.

We walked our 5 miles and made our donations, and I hope we do it again next year.

And recently, I heard from my old college friend, Amy, whom I met when we were just 18 and full of certainty, and with whom I spent a semester of college trolling around Europe. Amy was planning to walk in Avon’s Walk for Breast Cancer in Boston and she sent out an e-mail letting friends and family know they could contribute. And my, oh my, did they!

On May 16 & 17, Amy joined 2,500 others who walked 39.3 miles to raise money for this fight. Her friends and family contributed over $3000—part of the more than $5.6 million raised and given as grants to Boston area organizations. Amy said that the most moving part of the experience came when she was randomly chosen, as one walker was every three minutes, and “draped with a large pink ribbon banner that read, ‘Every Three Minutes.’” As she continued her walk, Amy said that she “thought about the woman who had just learned of her battle ahead. I walked with new purpose for her,” she said, “and for all of the other fighters.”

Forget about trolling around Europe. This is my new memory of my friend, and I thank her from the bottom of my heart.

Respecting Your Spouse

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Wed, 27 May 2009 08:37:00 +0000

R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Does that word have you singing the old Aretha song? That one little word has resonated with fans throughout the years in part, I think, because we get it. We all get it. Is there anyone who doesn’t desire a healthy dose of respect from others – from our friends, family, and even strangers? When it comes to marriage, it’s the same story: we deeply desire the respect of our spouse. And, in the beginning, it seems pretty simple. It seems easy, even. Because when you’ve recently fallen in love, there’s no end to the things you admire and respect about your beloved and he admires and respects about you. Easy as pie.

Flash forward. Add pets, a house, yard work, and jobs. Throw in a couple of kids, housework, chores, chores and a few more chores. Add different interests and new friendships. Mix in a healthy dose of difficult parenting choices, less and less time together as a couple, and there you have it: A Full-Blown Recipe for Disaster.

What's a girl to do? See my post over at Wedded Bliss today for more.

If You Find A Tiny Piece of Rotten Wood...

noreply@blogger.com (Hip Mom's Guide) — Tue, 26 May 2009 13:05:00 +0000

I took the day off from blogging yesterday, but Heather said what I would’ve said anyway. With two words, and two images, she said it all. Thanks, Heather.

And because I am a girl who likes to relax on her holidays, a girl who really believes in life balance and taking time off, I spent yesterday lounging by the pool, watching my kids frolic, and enjoying the frosty beverage in my hand. Ahhh, the peace.

Oh wait, no, that’s not right. What I meant was that I spent the day scraping and mixing and painting and sweating.

I did enjoy watching my kids, but they weren’t frolicking so much as moaning about the injustice of having to dig and pull weeds all afternoon.

At one point, my eldest claimed a stomachache. It’s fair to say that his paint-covered, suspicious parents didn’t show much empathy for the shirker. Get back to work, buddy, and here—take this barf bag with you, just in case. Funny how he recovered so quickly.

Since we were planning such a big workday yesterday, you might think we took it easy when my mom and dad came into town last week. Well, you’d think. Also, you might think we’d consider their long drive, that we’d wonder if they were tired, or wanted to do something fun. Or, you might think I’m the kind of daughter that says, “Hey dad, can you help me repair this tiny little rotten wood around our door frame?”

If you thought the latter, you’d be right.

And if you’ve ever had a tiny little rotten piece of wood around your door frame, you know the rest of the story, right? There is NEVER a tiny little rotten piece of wood. It’s ALWAYS hiding a bigger problem. My suggestion? Ignore it. Paint over it. Look the other way. But, dear Lord, don’t ask your dad to take it out, because you will end up with this.

And then this.

The good news is that in the end both the door frame and the paint job look good. But I am definitely ignoring that other tiny little piece of rotting wood. Definitely.