Chicago Moms Blog

You're Invited: Come Alone or Don't Come at All!

Recently, Charlie, my four-year-old, was invited to a birthday party.  The family was kind enough to invite the whole pre-school class.   Perhaps because the whole class was invited, or perhaps because the party was scheduled on a weekday right after school, the whole class was abuzz over it.  Charlie was particularly excited because, although the birthday girl was not a close friend of his, he knew his best friends were going to be there.

Unfortunately, something on the invitation stuck out.   It said,  "This is a kids only party."  Charlie is a bit clingy and is terrible about any kind of transition.  When he goes on a play date, I go too.  When he goes to a birthday party, I go to the birthday party. I help pass out cake and drinks and I only eat Charlie's leftovers (he's that rare child who will actually not finish dessert!).   Until now, it had never been an issue.  Because the party was being held at Birthday Girl's home, and not at an ice skating rink or some other venue that charges per person, I really didn't think anything of it when I picked up the telephone to call the girl's parents.  When I started to mention that Charlie has never done a "drop off" anything, the stay-at-home-dad interrupted, "I have to go, something's on the stove.  I'll call you back about this."   Well, he never called  me back.

How Do I Treasure My Children?

I was having dinner at a friend's home the other night and we were questioning why we are living here in such an inhospitable climate.  My friend, who is from Arizona, pointed out that she and her husband will probably move back there in ten years.  I understood that ten years was the "magic" number for them because their daughter, who is the same age as my Eva, will be eighteen by then and presumably the custody issues between the father and biological mother will change.  While I was nodding my head in recognition, a wave of panic swept over me.  My Eva will be eighteen in only ten years!?! I know how quickly ten years can fly by.  Gadget Man and I just celebrated our ten year anniversary.  Wasn't I just a bride?  Wasn't I just pregnant with Eva, then Charlie?

Lately, perfect strangers have been "warning" me about how fast time flies.  I didn't even have my children with me, yet somehow the check out woman at Trader Joe's and I began chatting about children.  "You've got to treasure them while they're young," she pleaded.  Her eyes even watered a bit as she said it.  Just today, as I was registering Charlie for another year of pre-school, the secretary told me her son was seventeen.  "Time flies," she sighed, "believe me."  As parents, we all know this, right?  We know we need to treasure our children.  We know we need to "live in the now" with them.  The question is, how do we do it?

Hang Up and Drive

I have taken Oprah's "No Phone Zone Pledge" to stay off my cell phone while I'm driving.   For my safety and everyone else's, I hope everyone in Chicagoland takes the pledge too. In case you didn't know it, Illinois has brand new cell phone laws banning texting and checking emails altogether and restricting other cell phone usage while operating an automobile.  In my opinion, Illinois hasn't gone far enough.  It turns out that driving while talking on the cell phone (hands free or not) is just as dangerous as driving drunk!  We are four times as likely to get into an accident while on our cell phones.  If we are driving while texting, we are all eight times more likely to get into an accident.  In other words, texting while driving is four times worse than driving drunk!

If you think you can talk on your phone (hands free or not) you are wrong, and there is now scientific evidence to prove it.  After I learned the actual science behind the distraction of a cell phone while driving, I could really understand why I had to take Oprah's pledge.  It is one thing to learn about statistics, because I can just tell myself that it won't happen to me.  However, once I discovered that our brain simply is not wired to enable us to drive and talk on a cell phone, I was convinced.   Distracted Driving researcher David Strayer from the University of Utah demonstrated that our eyes (and our brains) will actually miss certain things that can be right in front of us, such as a red light or crossing pedestrians. The funny "car talk" guys from National Public Radio have been serious about eliminating cell phone usage for at least a decade.  In an official press release, they state, "[W]e're opposed to the use of cell phones in cars for anything other than emergencies. We said it's immoral, unethical, inconsiderate and downright stupid."

I Have a New Year's Resolution After All: No More Yelling!

                                              I've never been one for New Year's resolutions.  I consider myself a work in progress, always resolving to change in one way or another.  Yet this year will be different -- I hope.  I'm making a New Year's resolution to stop yelling.  I have to, my children's well-being depend on it.

    Just the other day, Charlie, my four-year-old, left his breakfast dish on the coffee table unattended.  The dish held the remains of his chocolate chip pancakes which are poisonous to our dog (and all dogs, for that matter).  When Charlie wandered into the kitchen to talk to me, I panicked, yelling at him to bring in his dish.  Immediately following my outburst, Eva, the seven-year-old, who was standing right behind me, echoed my request.  It wasn't really an "echo."  Her voice was even louder than mine, and since she was closer to him than I was, her scream was right in his face.  Charlie was silent at first, too shocked to speak.  Then he looked up at us, the two most important girls in his life, and broke into tears.  "My G-d,"  I thought, "what have I done?"

When Family Opts Out

You know that old saying, "You can choose your friends but you can't choose your family?" No matter what, you are a family member and you can't just decide you don't want to be a part of said family, or can you?  I have been very sad for many months now because my brother-in-law and sister-in-law  have ceased all communications with my immediate family.  My husband and I are not sure exactly what we did wrong.  Of course, we can speculate, but no one has come to us and our attempts at speaking to them are met with telephone hang ups and my brother-in-law's request of me to take him off of my email list.

Now, my brother-in-law has made his children, my nieces and Eva and Charlie's first cousins, "off limits" as well.   My nieces were not allowed to attend their own grandma's birthday celebration we hosted (I assume they had a separate one for her), and Eva and Charlie were not invited to their first cousin's sixth birthday party.   The last straw was yesterday, when my mother-in-law refused to deliver the birthday gift I lovingly purchased for said six-year-old and the Christmas presents for their tree, claiming that she was afraid her son would "kill the messenger."  My brother-in-law is trying to push us off the family tree, and he's doing a good job of it so far.

Bait and Switch, What's A Mom to Do?

     I try my absolute best to learn everything I can about what goes into my children's bodies and the air we breathe. We eat organic as much as possible (with special emphasis on the top ten), we avoid ingredients with hormone-disrupting agents in our lotions and shampoos (thank you Campaign for Safe Cosmetics  ), we use non-toxic cleaning agents to clean our home, and non-toxic biodegradable soap to launder our clothes.   To accomplish all of this takes a lot of work.  I do a lot of research and I read every label thoroughly. 

    Imagine my surprise when my dentist told me that Toms of Main's toothpaste for children contains sodium lauryl sulfate.  Five years ago when Eva first began using toothpaste, I took one look at the artificial coloring and flavoring in the commercially popular brands and went to Whole Foods for a better alternative.  I found Tom's of Maine "natural" "silly strawberry" toothpaste for children.  Based on my knowledge, the ingredient list contained non-controversial and safe ingredients, no sodium lauryl sulfate.  I bought it and she liked it.  A year or two later, Eva was ready for fluoride toothpaste and Toms had a "silly strawberry" version to fit the bill.  I read that label too, just to make sure the ingredients in that fluoride product met with my approval; there was no sodium lauryl sulfate.   Over the years, I picked up the Tom's of Maine "silly strawberry" for children and put it in my cart with nary a glance at the ingredients.  Why would I read the label again?  Well, I contend that is exactly what Tom's of Main was hoping for when they changed their formula.  I feel like I was fooled.

Another Gang Rape: What Happened to Conversations About Right and Wrong?

My heart broke when I heard about the 15 year-old student who was gang-raped for hours as 20 or so people looked on and participated in various ways at a homecoming dance last weekend.  Here in Chicago, we have an epidemic of teens killing other teens because human life is just not respected.  What has happened to our sense of right and wrong?  Lately, it seems as if someone who believes in "right and wrong" is accused of being "too judgmental"  and effectively, the conversation is shut down.  It hasn't been directly about life or death, but I have experienced this in my personal conversations and online where (G-d forbid), I have questioned another mother's choices.  Of course, mud slinging is not productive, but real conversations about right and wrong need to take place among parents, without the "j" word shutting it down.

A while back, I wrote a story of how I was considering calling the authorities when I found out about a child who was left home alone.  Many people angerly accused me of "judging" this mother and thought it was ridiculous of me to think about following up on it.  Eva, my elementary schooler has been taught that the difference between "telling" and "tattling" is that it is considered "telling" when someone's safety is involved.  "Tattling," on the other hand, is telling on someone just so that person gets in trouble.  In the case of the child home alone, no one chastising me online seemed to consider that I was genuinely worried about the safety of a child.   I was shamed for questioning another mother's choice.  Similarly, I was accused of being too judgmental when I expressed my belief that it is wrong to put a toy gun in the hands of a child because I believed it glorified violence.  I was told to "lighten up."  But I don't think anyone dared to tell that to the parents of the Columbine shooting victims.  Well, I think it is about time we all start thinking and talking about right and wrong.  After all, no parent is perfect, and won't we all benefit from such discussions?

Your Nanny Talks

My mother never allowed outside help into the house.  "They'll talk," she explained.  Until today, I believed we were way too boring to talk about.  Today, I couldn't help but eavesdrop on a conversation I overheard at the library.  While Charlie was busy playing with the library toys, my attention drifted away from my new novel to the stunning young Russian nanny and the elderly Latino nanny reuniting.  They had not seen each other in over a year, so they had a lot of catching up to do.  The young nanny spoke loudly, so my curiosity perked up when I heard her say, "I am so much happier now!  Do you know I had four children and I was only making $800?  I have this little one now and I'm already making $650."  It took the older nanny a while for her to understand that the younger one was actually happier making less money.  "No, no, I am happy," the younger one said reassuringly.  "Do you know this lady is so nice?  She doesn't want me to do nothing . . ." This younger nanny went on to explain how hard it was for her to work for the lady with the four children.  How the lady told her not to do laundry, but that the children never had clean underwear, "What was wrong with her?" she exclaimed.  "This new one is trying to get pregnant this week and she is already talking about giving me more money," she blurted.  The elderly nanny complained quietly, "I do the cooking and the cleaning and the laundry."  She continued with a sigh, "There is laundry every day."  The younger nanny beamed, "My lady is so nice, she tells me to take a nap too, but what can I do for all that time he is napping?  I bring a book, but I just want to do something, you know?"  Then there was some kind of discussion about aging and the younger nanny reassuring the elderly one that she looked good and that she looked the "same as when I saw you last year."  They promised to see each other again, and parted ways.

Well, I don't have a nanny because I'm a SAHM, but I do have a housekeeper.  She dresses better than I do because her other "boss" as she calls her, is a wealthy woman in Winnetka who gives her designer shoes (my dog ate one pair), expensive purses, and North Face Jackets.  I've given her bags of Charlie's old clothes for her nephew and presents for her son, but I can't compete otherwise.  As far as what she is saying about me to other people, I just don't know.  The question is, should I care?

LIfe Is Fleeting

As parents, we do our best to keep our children out of harm's way.  No matter how careful we are, tragedy can still strike us at any time.  Such was the case for the Kenig family.   LIttle 5 year-old Ester Kenig was riding her bicycle last Sunday when a Hummer vehicle came down an alley and struck her dead.  

I didn't read about this in the paper, though it most likely appeared in it and I have since looked it up online.  Instead, I heard it from one of Ester's neighbors, Dina, my girlfriend who had Charlie and me over for lunch this afternoon.  Dina began by telling me that a 5 year-old girl riding her bicycle was killed by a car emerging from an alley.  "Oh," I interrupted, "my children know to stop before they get to an alley."  In my mind, as I was speaking, I was reassuring myself that something like this could never happen to me and to my children (four and seven) since I have taught them so well never to cross streets or alleys without an adult. Surely my friend was relating this tragic story as a kind of, "Don't let it happen to you, alleys are so unsafe" kind of thing.  "Wait," she instructed.  "Her mother was following right behind her and the girl stopped at the alley just as she was taught."  I sucked in my breath as I listened to Dina while she explained how something so expected, two events that happen all the time, came together to form one unexpected tragedy.

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

Chicagoland is divided into two kinds of baseball fans: Sox fans and Cubs fans.  I always considered myself a Cubs fan, since, when I was in my twenties, I would take a long walk from my Lincoln Park condo to Wrigley Field and enjoy a daytime game once or twice a year.   Now that I'm married to Gadget Man, we are pretty much a Sox fan household.  He is one of those die hard Sox fans who actively roots for any team playing the Cubs.  He doesn't care who is playing the Cubs, he just wants the Cubs to lose.  Someone who roots for another to lose, as I have explained to my seven-year-old, is a "hater."  I refuse to raise "haters" in my family.  So, I say, "Go Chicago!"

The Sox vs. Cubs argument is moot out in Schaumburg.  Yes, there Sox and Cubs fans can congregate as one to "root, root, root for the home team" Flyers.  Our family drove the grueling one hour trip from Skokie to Schaumburg (I don't understand why it took so long, IKEA is only forty minutes!) on a bright sunny Sunday for a ball game where, without traffic, noise and congestion, we pulled into a free parking space just a few feet from the ballpark.  Our eleven dollar tickets were waiting for us in the short line for will call.