Moms On the Go

Operation Independence by Tisha Powell

 
I can’t believe it!  My little girl is a Girl Scout camp veteran.  She spent an entire two nights away from home with people who aren’t relatives and no one called me to come and get her.  I’m so proud of her independence.  This is a major milestone.  I’m actually surprised by my sense of calm through it all.  I think what I felt most while she was gone was reminiscent of days gone by.  I remember Girl Scout camp like it was yesterday.  Ahhhh... Camp Whispering Pines.  It was so liberating being away from home with the other girls singing songs and cooking with homemade stoves.  It was a blast!

There is something I’m going to do differently next time though.  We’re always so busy, I figured I’d just pack Nina’s bags for her.  With any other child this wouldn’t have been a problem, but with mine.. it went horribly wrong.  When I picked her up after the trip I noticed she looked really dirty.. almost like Pigpen from Peanuts!  I’d never seen her that gritty before.  Come to find out.. she didn’t know I put soap in her bag and showered without it for two days.  She says she couldn’t find the soap, flashlights, binoculars or half the other things I packed for her so neatly wrapped with highly identifiable Hello Kitty duct tape from Target.

Sometimes what saves me time isn’t doing her any favors.  She needs to be more involved in how things actually get done.  Packing for that trip should have been something we did together.  I kept putting it off because I thought it would be easier for me to just get it done while she was at school.  Well.. the result of that was all over her face.. literally.  I’ve noticed I handle a lot of things this way.  I just do it for her so it can be done quickly and MY way, but she’s not learning anything in the meantime.

After she got home from camp we went shopping.  I thought what a great time to teach a life lesson.  I grabbed my purse and she grabbed HER money and we went to the mall.  Normally, I just buy things for her and let her money pile up.  This time she used her own money at Justice and realized it didn’t go very far.  She now has a greater appreciation for the hard work her parents do to take care of her.  I think we’ll tackle the laundry next.  Thanks to Girl Scout camp there’s definitely plenty of it. 

 

'Tired... AND Sick' by Frances Scott

Sleep…

 

Want it.  Need it.  Can’t get it.  Maybe this is menopause. I’ve heard you can’t sleep during menopause.  I really WANT TO sleep, I just can’t turn off my brain at night.  In fact it gets ramped up to a whole new level. 

 

I don’t remember the lack of sleep being the worst part of bringing home the twins.  I was up anyway, so I saw no problem with actually having something to DO while I was up.   But now the kids are 7, 7, & 5.  At night THEY’RE out, sawing logs with my husband by 10 p.m., and I’m WIDE AWAKE ALL NIGHT. 

 

It must be selfishness that’s keeping me up.  I’m so happy to, late at night, finally have a little time by myself in the quiet.  There’s nobody I have to talk to.  Nobody suggesting I do something with my time that what I want to do.  Nobody judging what I am choosing to do.  I really can’t do anything but read/write/learn at 2 a.m.  Our house is so small, if I were to get up and try to fold laundry, clean or even re-organize a cabinet (my favorite 2am past-time when we DIDN’T live in a shoebox), it would wake my husband.  And goodness knows, we do not want to wake the sleeping prince.  Skip is the lightest sleeper I’ve ever known.  Unfortunately for both of us he married the worst insomniac of all time.  Hand’s down, my lack of sleepiness at night is our BIGGEST marital issue.  And Skip is a frugal accountant who sees everything in dollars (even the last squirt of toothpaste), yet my sleep problems are a bigger bother to him than even my spending.  My schedule occasionally shifts from the nightshift to the day shift & back, so that could be part of the problem.  I’m sure eating Oreos at 8 p.m. doesn’t help either, but OF COURSE, I’d NEVER do THAT…

 

And the nighttime tornado watches are not helping. 

The Living Room Trumpet by Tisha Powell

In my living room right next to the fireplace sits an old dented and scratched up trumpet.  It was supposed to be turned into a lamp, but I never got around to that project.  So for now, the musical instrument serves as art.. decoration for the house.  Where did come from?  Well.. my parents bought it for my older sister Nicky for the Caldwell Middle School Cougar Band.  When she quit playing it, the trumpet was handed down to me.  My daughter likes to blow it from time to time.  It sounds like an elephant with a head cold.

I played the trumpet for five years in the concert band.  I always felt lucky to be a member of the brass section while the other girls played flutes and clarinets.  There were never enough trumpets.  I played the piano and clarinet too, but I have to say I enjoyed the trumpet the most.  I still hear music in the part I would have played in the band.  I eventually gave up the trumpet… and the piano… and the clarinet.  I am now an adult with NO musical talent and nothing to show for all the money my parents spent on instruments and lessons.  I can still read music, but what’s the point of reading music you’re not going to play.

Now it’s my daughter’s turn.  She has chosen to learn to play the violin like her father.  She looks forward to lessons every week.  Right now she’s simply learning the parts of the violin and how to hold and care for the instrument.  I remember those afternoons sitting at the piano being forced to practice when I’d rather be playing outside.  I remember my mother whining about how she loved the sound of the piano in the house.  It was pure torture.  I hated every minute. 

I hope when it comes to my daughter and her violin that she’ll have a genuine love for it.  As much as I would love the sound of live classical music in the house, I know I can’t MAKE her enjoy it.  Maybe the idea of playing duets with her dad will inspire her.  You never know.  I could be raising the next Stephane Grappelli.  How long this musical venture will last is anyone’s guess, but I’m going to enjoy it down to the last note.

 

Geocaching=Modern Day Treasure Hunting!

A few months ago, there was an article http://www.nytimes.com/2010/12/10/technology/10geocache.html in The New York Times about geocaching and how it’s becoming so popular. This was actually the first time I had ever heard of it and I was really interested-especially since my son loves treasure hunting. Think of it as just that-modern day treasure hunting. The boy scouts also now have a geocache badge-so that immediately makes it a really big deal.

By the way, it’s pronounced geo-cashing. Nonetheless, it’s a high tech treasure hunt where millions of cache’s are hidden throughout the world. All you have to do is log onto the website
http://www.geocaching.com/ and get a free membership. You can also upgrade to a yearly membership for $30. Basically, you type in your zip code and the gps coordinates of caches near you pop up. That’s it. You type in the gps coordinates on your device-in our case it was a droid cellphone-and drive near the site. Once you are near, you can switch your gps unit to compass or map and hunt out the hidden cache on foot.
Some of the cache’s are harder to get to with tougher terrain-but, the cache’s are rated for difficulty.

Some of the “finds” are capsules with logs inside. In some cases, you sign the log and add the find to your profile-bragging rights are immediately in order by the way. But, there are some cache’s that contain kids toys, trackable coins, and other treasures. If you want to take something out of the official geocache box, you must replace it with something of equal value. It doesn’t get much better than this to make a child happy, right?

And, with my 4 year old really into treasure hunting, we are officially hooked! We got him a metal detector for his birthday and it’s quite a sight to see his face light up when he locates something on the ground or in the sand. So, this was right up his alley. We found 2 cache’s on Saturday morning-the second one was a little hard to find, but, after taking a break and returning we found it! Sunday morning when I asked my 2 year old if he wanted to go the movies he said, “Hunt treasure.” That’s when I knew this was a hit.

The great part is, we can do it anywhere in the world. Sure beats sitting inside watching The Da Vinci Code! Happy Hunting!

Amber is a mom of two boys. Her blogs can be found here every Monday.

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Cookie Hypocrisy by Tisha Powell

 
I was a Girl Scout decades ago, now my 8-year-old daughter is a member of a local troop.  I let her sign up to meet other little girls from her school and to get to know them outside of the classroom.  I have so many wonderful Girl Scout memories.  I loved camping, singing and crafts.  It was great!  I’m even in the Cookie Hall of Fame!  I sold hundreds of boxes of Girl Scout cookies back in the day.  But I confess.. I tried to rob my daughter of the great American activity that is selling Girl Scout cookies.  Oh what a shame.

When I signed my 3^rd grader up for scouting, the other moms said the greatest thing about their troop was NOT selling cookies.  We all later found out that selling cookies is a Girl Scout requirement.  Someone in the troop has to sell cookies!  The troop leader left it up to the moms and daughters to decide who would pound the pavement armed with order forms for Thin Mints and Peanut Butter Patties. Well, having sold cookies before and knowing the amount of work that goes into it, I decided for the both of us to sit this year out.  My daughter seemed okay with it at first, but as time went by and cookies came pouring in.. my daughter sank into Do si do despair.  It was terrible.  What I later found out was that selling cookies meant her very first Girl Scout badge.  All she had to sell was one box to get the badge.

I had to fix this, so I went to the designated Cookie Mom in hopes of getting in on the action.  Who knew the Girl Scouts had so many rules and regulations.  We had already missed the deadline to sign up.  The organization has to keep tabs on WHO is selling those cookies.  Luckily, the Cookie Mom was able to get her approved quickly, and she was selling cookies the very next day.  One home in our neighborhood bought 10 boxes!  I don’t think I’ve ever seen my daughter so happy and confident.  She was beaming with pride.  I was Caramel Delited!

What I have learned from this is not to let my past experiences get in the way of my daughter’s accomplishments.  I did not want to sell cookies, but I didn’t have to.  She did ALL of the work.  Just when I thought I knew my daughter, I was surprised by the mature little girl who wanted to take on a new challenge.  This is the same little girl who can’t keep her room clean, but hey.. we’re working on that.  I’m just so proud of the fact that she saw something she wanted to do and saw it through to the end.  That’s exactly what I wanted her to learn by becoming a Girl Scout.  So to Girl Scout Troop 1871.. Thanks-A-Lot!

'Novelty on Top; Monotony Underneath' by Frances Scott

What is it about '40' that makes you go, "Can I DO THIS for the rest of my life?"

I guess, at some point, you come to understand that the rest of your life could be possibly less eventful or less fun than the first part, and part of you (me, at least) wants to change it up a bit. (I guess that's why I move every two years.)  My DAYS consist of commuting, sitting in my cube, commuting again, grocery shopping, taking out the trash, unloading dishes, washing children, rinsing and repeating.  But I KNOW my LIFE consists of far more than that.

But then, in all seriousness, we take a look back at 'The Checklist.'  Graduate from high school, & finish college.  Check.  Maybe grad school or a PhD.  Check, and three more years of  'Check.'  Get a job.  Check. Get married, buy a house and squeeze out a few pups.  Check. Check. Check-Check-Check. (Surely each kid deserves his/her own 'Check.')   

But nobody really goes into what to expect after that.  And you keep looking at Life like, "OK. What else you got? --- Oh ? --- What?   You mean this is IT?  It's going to be a lot more of THE SAME for the next TWO DECADES--- IF I'm lucky-- IF nobody else gets cancer, and IF I manage to keep my job, spouse, and kids?"  The best I can hope for is status quo?  I'm not used to that, but I've never imagined life AFTER getting a job and having kids.  Do people even imagine life in their 40's? I certainly never did.  Do 18 year olds imagine life AFTER the NFL/___'fill in the blank with your dream'___ ?  I can't help but doubt it.  Geesh, I hope there's more exciting, good stuff coming, or I’m going to have to get a sports car, and I can't afford to insure one of those things.

The first few decades of life are wrought with change. Your social position, your abilities, even your BODY doesn't stay the same. And then it hits you: "My health, my income-producing potential, my free time et cetera--- are all going to stay at the SAME level as they are now or they're going to get worse from here on out?"

How can these "adult years" keep us running at such a frenetic pace, yet also keep dragging on and on and on?  Can something go quickly and yet inanely slowly at the same time?  Is THIS why our parents were always so grumpy?  This, my friends, must be middle age.  Or-- I must really need a vacation.  IS THIS is why successful, balding men get convertible sports cars and new wives?

But deep down I know that IT IS really all it's cracked up to be.  High school track meets and college flag-football games were fun and all, but what beats seeing your twins giggle at each other for the first time?  What's better than seeing a 7 year old doing her first cartwheel?  When my kids run to meet me at the door, with their three little faces, squished into my suit-covered belly, I know-- these are THE best of days, and I know that when the kiddos hit 12, they will probably be done with spending time with their parents, so I'd better drink it all up now.

My husband's 42 now, and a CPA.  He ran a small company for the last half a decade, and did nothing but accounting for the 10 years before that.  We agreed, when we moved back to Raleigh, he'd take part-time accounting gigs, until our baby hit kindergarten, which happens this August.  But he's looking down this road and at more accounting work, and keeps thinking, "Can I DO this the rest of my life?"

I certainly understand his desire for something new and exciting.   Cue the engines; we'd better get to Disney or some scorching beach before we both quit our jobs and head off to sell time-shares in Cabo.  I'm just kidding---partially---  I'm just trying to quench my desire for the thrills we saw in years passed (travel, mountain biking, weddings, skiing, visiting friends in other states, meeting "The One," having babies---) without ruining the truly awesome life we are blessed to have now. 

I've always had some exciting 'change' for which I could hope, and now that I'm where I want to be, the only thing for which to hope is that nothing will go wrong. That's not hope. It's fear. Hoping that a non-dream won't happen is just--- odd.  I'm used to hoping that dreams will happen.  I'm so grateful that many of them have,-- no question,-- I just don't know what to dream about or chew on now, nor am I comfortable with thinking I have a lot less to struggle against now.

Maybe it's just been a long, surgery-and-physical-therapy-filled winter.  Maybe it's time to have a party or go camping or take up painting or pottery again.

The years of struggle get you used to struggling, and when you get a chance to breathe, sometimes you just can't remember how.  I guess that's my next dream-- learning how to just breathe and enjoy and to learn how to stop struggling.   The mountain-top experiences are no longer set on actual mountain tops; they're more in the bottoms of bunk beds, with three little bottoms crawling all over us.  "Can I DO THIS for the rest of my life?"  Certainly I can.  But a sports car wouldn't hurt---

"Thanks for coming! Don't forget your mouse!" by Frances Scott

We have this vision… of how to stop it.  By “it,” I mean this apparent mandate—Chapter 611, Article iv, I’d guess, in the Parental Handbook, Edition XVIII, that at every kid’s birthday party, “you the parent” feel compelled to give out a “goody bag” at the end of the party.  Skip and I were lamenting the other night about this tradition that evidently developed between 1977 and now.  1977 was the year of my sixth and last official birthday party; at least the last birthday party that didn’t have tequila as its focus.   It was held at *gasp* my mom’s apartment and included hand-written invitations from J.C. Penny's. Plus we had Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey (the home-made kind where you draw a donkey on typing paper, and pin it to a bulletin board and then make paper tails, which were attached to the donkey using thumb tacks. Ouch). It was a merry 45 minutes with cake-eating and lots of little girls with long, greasy hair and brightly-colored velour sweat suits, dancing with their stuffed animals to the theme song from Grease-- is the word, is the word, is the word... Sorry. I couldn't resist.

I didn’t go to many kids’ birthday parties in the thirty years that followed my 6^th birthday party, but once my kids started pre-K and started being invited to other kids’ parties, Skip and I have been like, “What gives with all the goody bags!”   I mean isn’t the party itself the goody?   When the twins turned four, we caved to the pressure and gave out little goody bags that added about a hundred bucks to the party’s bottom line and most likely sprinkled “candy trash” into the homes of every child who attended. 

But we were sitting the other night PREPARING our 5 year old’s Valentines.  Yes, WE signed his name and taped little lolly pops to the cards.  We couldn’t find the classroom’s list of names, so we had to leave the “To:” part blank.   As I sat there, writing “Jake” 18 million times and eating mini Tootsie Roll pops even though I’d broken a crown on a mini Tootsie Roll pop that Jake had brought home during the last holiday celebration (President’s Day, I think it was), I just had to wonder, “How in the world did all this start?  I don’t even buy my kids candy, and I’m tired of all this candy, coming into my house (where I of course have to eat it, and end up breaking more crowns that will cost me a thousand bucks to get fixed).

Our five year old son was grumpy about going to school the day after Valentine’s Day, and sulked into school with a giant pout on his lips.   “Ohhhh!” the preschool director said, watching his big bottom lip, sticking way out, “What’s wrong?  Did you have too much CANDY yesterday or something?”  She didn’t glance at me disapprovingly like so many other preschool directors have done in the past, but I felt guilty anyway, until I remembered that it was candy that *iiiiiiii* DIDN’T BUY him! It was candy that came HOME WITH him from school.  I mean, I do all I can to help keep the candy out of my kids’ mouths... by putting it into mine, but it’s coming in these days at such a pace, that even I can’t keep up.   Does every holiday have to be smothered in candy?   When I think of Memorial Day, Starburst Fruit Chews don't ordinarily jump into my mind, but I guess someone could rationalize why the latter should be used to celebrate the former…

So Skip and I start brain-storming about what kind of festive party we could have on the cheap and what kind of related “goodies” we could give out.  The Wake County SPCA offers puppy parties.  You bring the kids, and they’ll supply the puppies for the party. Add puppies & stir.  The Town of Cary just leased some of its snakes and a handler (How'd you like that job?) for a snake birthday party that we just attended last weekend.  I am not kidding. Live snakes. It was cool.

But we don’t have a dog or snakes.  All we have is one hissing, irritable turtle.

But then we got to thinking, “Heeey!  Boa (our turtle) only cost us about 25 cents, when we mail-ordered her from Florida a few years ago… so we could actually have a baby-turtle-racing party, and the turtles would cost us less than most parents spend on goody bags!”   “Better yet,” Skip interjects, “We should have a MOUSE party!  We can let the activity be that you’d decorate your ‘mouse habitat’ (a shoebox), and at the end of the party, we’d hand you a Solo cup with a lid on it containing one pretty awesome goody:  a brand new addition to your family--- a spritely, brown mouse.” 

We had a good laugh, imagining how delighted the kids would be, when we pulled out the big crate of Solo cups containing mice and thinking about the looks on their parents' faces.  We’d play it straight, acting as if it was the most normal goodie bag in the world.  "Whaaaa???  You don't already HAVE a mouse, do you???"

If I weren’t so worried about cruelty to animals, I’d definitely have a mouse party.  And then we’d have someone to help me chow down on all of this candy. 

"ABC 11 Perks" by Frances Scott

Lately I’ve been feeling really grateful and more able than before to notice my blessings.  It’s possibly because I don’t hurt all the time, and after ten years of torture, being out of pain is a blessing in and of itself. 

Anyway, I thought that you (a viewer of ABC 11, I hope...) might like to be let in on a few secrets around here (ABC 11)…  Here’s why I love this place, and you guessed it; it goes a wee bit beyond the Junior Mints in the break room (they’re not free, but STILL!  Who gets Junior Mints put in their vending machine?!!!!); it’s 100 percent because of the people here. It takes some really special people for to pry me away from my kids. (OK. I’m lying. Being with kids all day would drive me absolutely batty, but I do love the little boogers like nobody’s business, and I love my kids a lot too. Seriously, I miss them all day, every day.  It's like my heart's being ripped out of my chest when I'm not with my kids.)

You might find it interesting that Barbara Gibbs (morning anchor) is a PHENOMINAL cake decorator, and she's hilarous.  She’s made cakes that look like newborn babies, snuggled in their blankets, like Elmo, like beach scenes and even one that looked like a Facebook page!  She knows what fondant IS, and Baby, she knows how to use it.  I mean it’s unreal.  Once she made a complete dollhouse, from top to bottom, including chair-rail, bead-board wainscoting and tiny little cut-and-pasted wallpaper.  She didn’t make that out of cake, but it was still cool and showed her laser-like focus. She also likes to dress her dog up in tight little Auburn t-shirts when her team wins championships (she's a football nut, like I was before babies comandeered all my time), and she’s the best friend in the world.  I mean THE best friend a girl could have.

Steve Daniels, beyond being the most amazing reporter (which we all know), can make one heck of a tasty margarita, and when you meet his wife, you realize even MORE what great judgment he has.  When he’s not reporting or anchoring, he pretty much laughs all the time.  When I anchor with him, you'll notice, right after a commercial break, my eyes will look all glassy, and that's because during most commercial breaks, we just laugh and laugh.  After I hang out with him for about a day and a half, he has me thinking that I might just be the smartest, most clever & creative, funniest girl in the world.  But I sense that he does that with most people. He has the best laugh, and making people feel good is one of his secret talents.

 Tisha Powell's secret talent is that she's super smart and knows the lyrics to every song ever written.  I kid you not.  She has a sweet, beautiful singing voice, but what was the most surprising thing to me is how she knows every single word to every single song. EVERY SINGLE WORD-- TO *EVERY* SONG. From Motown to Eminem to Montgomery Gentry to David Allen Coe to Usher or Lil’ Wayne; you cannot stump the girl!  Jon Camp (our reporter) is a HECK of a talented musician as well. My husband and I are almost at groupie status, regarding Jon.  I keep thinking, "If we could just get Tisha out one night… to sing with Jon, MAN, what a show THAT would be."  But for now, I just sit in awe, during commercial breaks, as she belts out song after song.  I can barely remember my kids’ middle names, but she knows every word to “A Country Boy Can Survive”?

Amber Rupinta is my 'mom away from moms.'  When I had hip surgery last December, she left me food in the fridge at work, because she was just worried that I wasn’t eating enough.  She is THE BEST mom; rushing home from her 3-am-'til-noon job, so she can be stay-at-home mom to her two boys for the next 12 hours of the day. She impresses me so much with her drive-- about everything, but especially to be the best mom, sister and friend.

These are just some of the cool fellas and babes with whom I work.  I don’t mean to sound like I am kissing up to anyone, but I just feel so blessed to work where I work. There are so many great people:  Cornell, our eternally-happy video editor, who always has a smile.   Derek, the executive producer who does it all and doesn’t yell at me when I screw it up.  Brandon, who never gets mad, no matter how many phones or computers I break.  Jim, our other editor, who can turn any of my stories into, well, a lot better than they would have been without him.  Bill, the director who's always cracking jokes. Paul, the photographer who shoveled a snow-path to my car when I was on crutches, and never got mad at me for asking him to shoot way more for a story than I could ever use.  Mark Armstrong, who amuses us all with his clever wit.  Shaun, the web guy who lets me wax poetic in his office, when I’m sure he has 10,000 other things to do. The other Brandon, our assistant news director, who carries my heavy bags to my car for me and whom I actually heard singing a Kris Kross song the other day.  Larry Stogner, who, when I was put in the hospital on bed-rest because my body was threatening to deliver our twins waaaay too early, was standing in my hospital room THE VERY next day, concerned, and friendly as ever.

I told our news director (my boss) once, “You hire well. I mean-- I really love everyone you hire.  I mean--  you are a good hirer of people. You pick good coworkers for me.”  It was a bit awkward, but he smiled.  I think he knew what I meant.

Are You Happy?

If you saw Oprah on Wednesday, the show was titled, “Are You Happy?” My sister lives near Chicago-so she gets to see the day’s show in the morning and if it’s something intriguing, she calls me to give me a heads up. (Yes, we call each other about TV shows-this is what sister’s are for, right?) Anyhow, I got a call from her about this particular show. She said, “Amber, there’s a quiz on the show and I failed all the questions.” Failed a test about whether or not she’s happy? Hmm. Needless to say, it got my attention and I tuned in to the show. It was eye opening.

Does having kids make you happy? Yes or no? How much money do you need to make to be happy? The answers might surprise you. They surprised me.

Goldie Hawn was the guest on this show and her answer about having children was, in my opinion, right on. The answer was mixed. Hawn’s explanation as a mother was-in the beginning-it’s very difficult-even scary. But, it turns into something great and at her age, she said she can’t imaging not having her family with her. She went on to talk about grandchildren etc. The experts say parents are the happiest when children are 18.
What do you think of that?

The thing is, it is a lot of work when your kids are small-but it’s temporary. Eventually, they can start doing things for themselves and it gets easier. The other day, my 4 year old buckled himself in to his car seat. It was a milestone. Sounds silly, I know. But, I seriously had to pause for a second because he didn’t need me to do it for him. I know the days will come when he can dress himself, pick out his own outfit, shower without my assistance, pour his own milk, etc.
And, then his little brother will do the same. Will that make me happy? Having extra time on my hands because they don’t need me as much? I don’t think so.
I think I will look back and these will be some of the best days-sure, I’m tired. But, in the end, I won’t remember being tired. I’ll remember my kids being so little and so cute and none of the other stuff will matter.

Because, as the happiness test will show you-it’s not stuff that makes you happy-it’s memories. So, I’ll call my sister back and plan a trip with her family, because, looking at those pictures will always make both of us smile.

Here’s the test:

http://www.oprah.com/oprahshow/Poll-Are-You-Happy

Amber is a mom of two boys. Her blogs can be found here on Mondays.

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Let's go.. let's go.. let's go!.. by Tisha Powell

Sometimes I feel like a drill sergeant when getting my daughter ready for school in the morning.  We have such a tough time getting out the door.  I’ve been told many times to let my 8-year-old do more on her own, but I’m afraid giving her more responsibility will only lead to more confusion and delay… like Sir Topham Hatt tries to avoid.  I want her day to start off on the right foot, but sometime I feel like I’m stressing her out before she even gets to school.

The hardest part is actually getting my daughter out of bed.  I think she could use more sleep, but after homework, gymnastics and bath time it’s difficult to get to bed before 9:00, sometimes even 9:30.  A friend suggested I get her an alarm clock, so she can get up on her own.  Well, we bought the clock. We’ve never used it because it’s loud enough to wake up the entire neighborhood!  Other moms have also recommended having outfits laid out to save time in the morning.  I let my daughter put together her own outfit once.  The clothes weren’t nearly warm enough for the 30 degree temperatures, but she tried.

What I’d like to work towards to maintaining focus in the morning.  We always seem to get off track and end up rushing.  I have an only child and I sometimes wonder if she often seems distracted because she has no one else to follow.  She ends up standing in the middle of the room staring off into space.. sometimes dancing around, or playing with whatever gets her attention.  My sister calls it “catching butterflies”.  She forgets the mission at hand and requires constant redirection. 

My daughter loves going to school, but nothing that involves getting there seems to stick.  One morning she walked out the door without shoes.  Luckily I noticed that, but one day I failed to see her get into the car without her backpack.  She cried out in the car drop off line that she’d forgotten it!  And then I wanted to cry.  Funny thing is… my daughter does one thing religiously every morning without being told, and that’s making her bed.  I don’t get it.  Don’t get me wrong… it’s great and all, but it actually slows us down in the morning.  I’m not going to mess that up though.  I’m going to love it when she’s a teenager who makes her bed.

Believe it or not… things are getting a little better as I continue come up with ideas to streamline our morning routine.  I only give her two or three tasks at a time and they’re always the same ones together... like brush your teeth,  put on your shoes and immediately come down stairs.  Yes… come down stairs has to be included or she’ll stay up there all morning.  How quickly she can get those tasks accomplished determines what’s for breakfast... something hot at the table or something cold in the car.  Ultimately, I want her time with me to be pleasant and not stressful.  It’s all about making good memories.  Even if it’s just the small moments we share between a little sleep and a big day at school.

Hide Yo’ Pod, Hide Yo Kids… by Frances Scott

Today, I am a pop star. I’m feeling like a rock star in the good way though, not in the shave-my-head-and-run-around-with-loser-boyfriends-even-though-I-have-more-kids-than-sense kind of way.

No, today I got all four of our family’s iPod Touches to be registered, loaded & to sync with one another and to our family’s “cloud” (a blog in and of itself for another day), have related email addresses and to be able to email, and to access TextForFree and FaceChat using their own but related numbers and accounts.   If you cannot understand what a feat this is, you have a PhD in Electrical Engineering from MIT, and when we English majors talk, you hear banjos.   I imagine y’all, zoning out whenever I start talking, humming quietly to yourself a bar from Antoine Dodson’s perp-warning song (“You are so dumb—You are really dumb—for real”), except this time it’s directed right to me. 

It only took me 18 days, 23 hours, and 76 minutes.  I know… that’s over 19 days, but you know what I meant… you friggin’ rocket engineer.

It was HARD.  Don’t get me wrong though.  I love Apple products, even though my fat fingers are too big for their keyboards and even though they don’t’ work with my gloves, which I wear 24/7 these days, because it’s cold as Hades right now and my husband is too cheap to let me set the thermostat at 85 (when he catches me). 

Apple products are generally intuitive for non-technical people who love technology.  (There ARE others like me out there, aren’t there?)  Mainly, they’re great for people who are too lazy, distracted or disabled to read manuals (YOU try to hold a manual and two crutch-canes!), but want our stuff to work.  So without reading a single manual—Yes I am proud of that!!!—I was able to set up four iPods to take video & pictures, synch, talk, share, email, & generally turn us into a little iPod Touch family with each other, and I might just be the best mom ever today.  We are now texting each other, all of us, from inside the house, inside the potty, from the bathtub, from the kitchen and from car-seat to car-seat (in the driveway, when the Wifi still works). And that IS what EVERY mother wants, right? Less talking? Less extraneous noise coming from bored children who are trying to get our attention?  I mean that IS the goal of parenthood, isn’t it?  Quiet children?

I am so proud; not of my children of course, but of myself for being able to pull off a feat that I once thought was just surreal to think I could ever pull off.  So you can run and tell that, run and tell that…