How These Parents Built a Brand to Help Kids Handle Scary Situations

When my daughter was a toddler several years ago, she – just like many other children her age – cried with extreme separation anxiety whenever I would walk out the front door. It didn’t matter who she was left with, her world came crashing down whenever mama went somewhere without her.

As endearing as it was to be her personal rock star, her tears pulled at my heartstrings. I grappled with guilt – babies aren’t the only ones who deal with separation anxiety. Although I’ve read plenty of expert advice on what to do in these type of situations, nothing can tell you what to do better than your own maternal instincts.

And that is where Twigtale comes into play.

Simply put, Twigtale makes parenting a tad easier by creating personalized stories to help children understand sensitive situations at an age-appropriate level. Work-at-home mom Carrie Southworth, along with her childhood friend Nishad Chande, founded the company on the idea of helping children with life-changing issues through expertly-scripted books.

Chande first came up with the concept when his child was afraid of starting preschool. The school director suggested he help ease the process by creating a book about preschool, using his own photos. Rather than putting together something with construction paper and glue, Chande came up with a better idea, pitched it to Southworth, and the business was born.

Twigtale lets parents create use a photo book to explain common childhood issues with their children, like a new sibling coming into the family, losing a pet, what happens when daddy goes on a business trip, and so on. These customized stories make both parents and their children the main characters of their plotlines while helping ease those common anxieties in a very therapeutic way.

CEO Carolyn Guimbarda says that while parents have been creating customized photo books for years now, this isn’t your typical coffee table book of your last trip to Big Sur. “We didn’t invent the concept, we just simplified the process. With the app, we limit the choices because when people are after a solution, they aren’t as concerned with background colors or font choices. We’re kind of like a combination of Shutterfly, Mad Libs, and a family therapist,” she said.

Southworth agreed on this point, adding, “with Twigtale, parents can easily create their stories with their kids’ photos on their iPhones in the grocery store, the school car line, or even the subway. There aren’t a lot of mothers out there who have that 20 or so minutes to sit at their desktop to go through the dozen or so templates and fonts from a service like Shutterfly. Twigtale is very easy to use and with our app, it’s been made even easier for parents create and order a book in no time.”

Both Southworth and Guimbarda know the value of being stay-at-home mothers who work to be challenged while providing a product to a demographic they know best – themselves. As far as their own advice for other SAHMs who want to dip their toes into the “momtrepreneur” pond, they say it’s pretty simple: surround yourself with support.

Image courtesy of Carolyn Guimbarda

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We May Soon Be Able to "Design" Our Babies

The future is now, apparently. It is 2015, after all. The year Marty McFly time-traveled into the future. The year that brought us, cinematically speaking, hover boards and flying cars. It is also the year that scientists (not Doc Brown) say we should seriously begin debating the ethicality of designer babies.

Dr. Tony Perry, “a pioneer in cloning” says the fact that his work editing mice DNA is approaching 100% efficacy means it’s time to decide what is ethically acceptable.  As he told BBC news, “On the human side, one has to be very cautious … it’s up to society as a whole to begin assessing the implications and decide what is acceptable.” Germ-line therapy is considered by many to be the most ethically acceptable form of DNA modification. It’s when scientists “cure” genetic diseases in embryos by replacing faulty sections of DNA with healthy DNA. It’s been successfully done on animal embryos but is illegal to do on humans. Professor Robin Lovell-Badge, from the UK Medical Research Council says testing embryos for disease during IVF would be the best way of preventing diseases being passed down through the generations.

But if we decide modifying genes to avoid genetic diseases is acceptable, where does it stop? Next thing you know you’ll have parents who want the “perfect” baby — demanding a specific gender, eye, or hair color. My knee-jerk reaction is that genetically modifying physical and intellectual characteristics is absolutely unethical and unnatural. Who are we to inflict changes on another human being that can’t consent? And if parents are so involved in the choosing of their child’s basic make-up, aren’t we setting up a strange tyrannical dynamic of expectations over who the child will be and what they’ll do with their life?

Someone who doesn’t agree with me is Bonnie Steinbock, a philosopher at the University at Albany, State University of New York (SUNY). Steinbock tells Live Science she sees nothing wrong with parents picking and choosing their child’s traits. According to her, it’s not clear that there’s anything unique, from an ethical perspective, in parents trying to foster certain traits through genetics as compared to using tutors, music lessons, or instilling discipline. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the attempt to make our children smarter or kinder. If we did think that was wrong, we should give up parenting, and put them out on the street.”

I’m not sure I buy that. Picking and choosing desirable physical characteristics ain’t exactly the same thing as music lessons. It’s not just having the musical skill that’s important, it’s learning the crucial life lessons that come with taking up any kind of music or sports class and trying really hard to become skilled at it, not just altering someone’s DNA code so they’re automatically awesome at everything. Additionally, what about the impact on society as a whole? Would genetically modifying DNA create a gap in society with “designer babies” populating the smart, beautiful class? Will we eventually become a society filled with people who are all smart, athletic, and “beautiful” based on popular ideals?

The bottom line, for me, is that a baby cannot consent to having its body altered and I do not “own” my child. Unless it was a potentially life-saving situation, all manner of genetically altering human beings terrifies me. So my answer is no to genetic modification but a great big yes to hover boards and flying cars.

Image courtesy of ThinkStock

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I Was That Angry, Bitter Mom

Sometimes people ask me why I was so relaxed about the terrible twos. I have to say, it’s because the first year was so rough for me that it made everything after it a thousand times better. If I could conquer that first phase, I could get through anything. Part of it has to do with the fact that a toddler is much different than a baby, but most of it has to do with my mental approach. As silly as it sounds, I’ve come to terms with my role as a mom and making peace with myself has allowed me to better enjoy everything that comes with it.

Now when I’m having a hard day, I remember what was. What my state of mind used to look like. And it wasn’t pretty:

That first year, most nights I couldn’t fall asleep even though I was thoroughly exhausted because I was riddled with anger and resentment. There were days when I was really, really pissed off and wondered how I got there. Resentment for all the hours of sleep I missed, the work I didn’t get done, the opportunities I passed up, the friends I didn’t get to see … again. Angry that I spent my days stressing about how to get everything that needs to be done accomplished; angry that some days the peak of my social life was going to the grocery store. Angry that I couldn’t run or workout. Angry that I was unsatisfied intellectually and professionally. Angry that I felt so very alone in all of it.

But mostly angry that I was angry.

As a mom, you willingly give up anything for your child, but I had never intended to be a stay-at-home mom. I intended to work while I was at home too. And I was working, but barely. (Every mom is probably snickering behind her computer screen right now; of course it was nearly impossible to work and take care of kids without help.) I was constantly stressed out about deadlines and getting things done and moving things forward, but it wasn’t working so I stepped back a little. That helped with some of the stress, but then it left me unfulfilled.

And then the guilt crept in for being unfulfilled when I got to spend every hour of the day home with my child. Only the lines were much blurrier than that; I loved spending that time with him. I couldn’t stand being away from him. When he was awake and I was with him, I didn’t want to be doing anything else. It was just the big picture thing: the feeling like I wasn’t accomplishing or contributing in a productive manner and that the things I had to do weren’t the things I wanted to be doing.

The whole thing started a cascade of emotions. There were days when I felt lost and unworthy. Other people could handle this, so why couldn’t I? Why wasn’t it enough, but at the same time too much? I was unbalanced and unsure and often resented the burden of responsibility that had been placed on my shoulders.

This wasn’t all the time, but no one (read: me) seemed willing to admit things weren’t always sunshine and rainbows. The days that were filled with clingy crankiness could get rough. Although my little one thankfully started sleeping at night, he wasn’t a napper. I heard about moms being able to get things done during 1 to 2 hour naps twice a day, and I turned green with envy. I could have done a lot with a couple hours.

I was a broken record constantly begging for more time. More time! But I also knew enough that no matter how hard those moments and emotions and struggles were, I needed to learn to appreciate every moment with my baby. Deep down I knew I wouldn’t want it any other way, but it was an ongoing struggle to figure out how to make things work.

Now, it’s over a year later and I’m so glad to be on the other side of all that; to barely remember what those days were like. That’s how I could love the terrible twos. Hopefully I’ll be able to say the same about three at the end of this year.

Image source: Thinkstock

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10 Things Parents Do to Prove We're Still Young

Yesterday, while filling out a form online, I was asked for my birthdate. I entered the month, the day, and then moved my mouse over the year. My birth year was nowhere to be found. I hit the down arrow and started scrolling. I scrolled. And I scrolled. And I scrolled some more until I found the ancient, prehistoric year of 1970. I took this as an irrefutable sign that I am OLD. I lamented to my friends that I do not like this whole “scrolling to get to your birth year” business. We agreed that we are officially old, but we refuse to admit it to the world. These are the lengths we go to in order to prove we’re young parents (even though we know the truth!) …

1. We stay up late on New Year’s Eve.

Actually, let me rephrase that. We try to stay up late on New Year’s Eve. For those of us with little kids, that usually means passing out on the couch by 10PM while the kids run around, eat their weight in junk food, and watch inappropriate movies on TV. For those of us with older kids, it means passing out on the couch by 10PM until our older kids wake us up by taking pictures of us drooling in our sleep, and posting them on Instagram.

2. We ride all the roller coasters at the amusement park.

Living in Orlando, the theme park capital of the world, I have plenty of opportunities to frequent the parks. Every year I chaperone a bunch of 8th graders to Universal Studios for “Gradventure,” an evening where the park is closed to the outside, the kids get to stay until midnight, and the chaperones are given wristbands that enable them to go on the rides without waiting. Naturally, I feel the need to go on every coaster, multiple times all night. However, by the time I get home I literally have to crawl up the stairs on my knees because my feet hurt so badly and the following day I feel hung over and dizzy from staying up late and being turned upside down repeatedly.

3. We think we can jump on the trampoline with our kids.

They make it look so effortless. Unfortunately, we learn quickly that:
A. We lack the necessary bladder control for such an endeavor.
B. We have discernible coordination.
C. We cannot get out of bed the following day.

4. We play on the floor.

We get out the Legos, Matchbox cars, and Barbies and get down to play alongside our kids. It’s fun. It’s a bonding experience. It’s quality time spent with our kids encouraging their imaginations. It’s painful. Our knees sound like Rice Krispies in milk when we get up off the floor.

5. We pretend to be helping our kids with their reading skills.

We tell the kids it’s reading practice when we have them read the pill bottle dosage information because the print is so small we can’t imagine they’re actual words, and not just tiny dots.

6. We try to keep up with the latest lingo, fad, and trends.

Unfortunately, teens change their minds about what’s cool and what’s not so often that it’s an impossible task. Who can keep track of all that? Whenever I try, my teens enjoy a hearty laugh (with accompanying eye roll) at my sheer ignorance of everything in the world.

7. We try to be cool and listen to our kids’ music.

We don’t understand it, we can’t make out the lyrics, we don’t know what happened to the bands we used to listen to when we were their age, and then we tell the kids to turn it down because it’s too loud. Of course, even though their music/tv/conversations are too loud, we have to ask them to repeat their sentences multiple times because we seem to be hard of hearing when they’re just talking to us.

8. We try to look young.

We color our gray hair and we try to dress as fashionably as possible (without disregarding comfort, of course) lest we’re asked if we’re the grandma when we pick our youngest child up from school. According to my teens, however, I’m no longer able to pull off “cool” clothes.

9. We try to do fun, exciting things.

We make plans for the weekend, but by the time Friday rolls around, we’re too tired to go out so we talk the kids into having “movie night” so we don’t have to do anything more strenuous than lie around in our pajamas, watching TV and drinking wine.

10. We eat garbage … then regret it.

We stay up watching movies, drinking wine, and eating popcorn and ice cream with our kids (the wine is just for us). And then we wake up in the middle of the night with heartburn and we awake in the morning, two sizes larger.

Image courtesy of ThinkStock

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My Babies Are Not Mine

“Oh my gosh, Chaunie, she just rolled over!” my husband shouted, running into the bedroom that our older girls shared, where I had been reading them a bedtime story.

I blinked at him, not comprehending a word he was saying.

My baby? My baby that I just gave birth to had rolled over? How is that possible?

Of course, logically, I knew that around six months old, it is quite possible for a baby to roll over. But illogically, in my head, I had somehow managed to do what no other parent had managed before me — and froze time so that my precious little baby could remain a precious little baby forever.

Obviously that plan didn’t go so well.

So in we all trekked to the other shared bedroom (where the toddler and baby sleep, and that goes about as well as you would think, which is no one is getting any sleep ever) to crowd around the crib for a repeat performance.

I felt a bit shell-shocked, seeing as I’ve been teetering on the edge of the mixed emotions that come with wondering if this is my last baby, and also because I have always been the one to witness my baby’s firsts. The first smile, the first words, the first tooth, the first roll, the first step — they have all happened under my watch. So to have the very first roll of my very last baby happen without me felt devastating.

I plopped in front of the crib and told myself to get a grip. It’s just one roll out of hundreds, I told myself. It could have happened at anytime. You’re not a bad mother for missing it. There will so many more firsts.

But despite my best efforts, I couldn’t shake my sadness — and down the tears started to fall.

My husband stopped teasing me when he realized that I was actually sobbing, the two-year-old wrapped his favorite fuzzy blanket around my shoulders (which only made me cry more, because how sweet is that?), and my other daughters hugged me silently, all while I couldn’t believe what a big lunatic I was being.

And later that night, when I had time to rock my baby — who refused to roll over again and I may just pretend my husband was seeing things — back to sleep, I mulled over what exactly was tugging on my heartstrings. It’s hard, this mothering stuff, no doubt, but good grief, I was going to have to get a handle on the blubbering now before I was embarrassing us all at high school graduation.

Because while giving birth had, in many ways, been a re-birthing process for myself in learning what it was like to have everything I knew about life and love shattered around me while my heart learned to beat in a new chest — and then four — watching my children grow past the babyhood stage requires a painful new growth.

Up until now — and this may sound horrible, but it’s the truth — it’s almost like having children has been an extension of myself. A new self, it’s true, but I saw motherhood in how it changed me. How that first baby girl who burst on the scenes unexpectedly transformed my husband and I from scared college students to parents with a new reason for living. How baby after baby after baby followed in quick succession, labeling me as “that” mom who’s always pregnant, the one who always makes a scene at the grocery store, the woman who causes people to wonder if I am addicted to pregnancy. How having children thrust me straight into the scenes of “having it all” and work-family balance and do I want to stay home and long story short, having children meant a lot of new decisions in my life while they were little.

It’s easy, in the early days of motherhood, to get wrapped up in the cocoon of babyhood, to revel in the bliss of cuddles and naps and days spent doing nothing more than playing blocks and reading books, to think that these babies of ours are actually ours — that we who have brought them into existence should therefore have a say on what happens for the rest of their existence.

But it doesn’t exactly work that way, does it?

I really don’t get a say in what happens in my children’s lives. Sure, I’m here to mold, shape, and guide and I will hopefully always be involved in some way, but from the choices they make to what sicknesses could befall them, to the moment that they choose to roll over one evening before bedtime, I am here as a grateful spectator, not an eager orchestrator.

It might sound slightly depressing but in a way, thinking about all of the ways that my children are growing as individuals helped me to see past the sadness of babies rolling over in cribs, almost-five year olds starting kindergarten in the fall, and the harsh reality of forming a new motherhood identity all over again (and just when I was getting the hang of things!).

Because I want that for them, I really do. I want them to learn and grow and find what makes them so passionate they would spend a bright sunny Monday morning engrossed in it (ahem).

And hopefully, no matter what, just like I did last night when I watched a fuzzy footed pajama-clad baby try to roll over, I’ll be able to be by their sides, coaching them on and encouraging them with a smile —

Even while I’m wiping away a tear from my eye.

Image courtesy of Chaunie Brusie

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The Vanderbilt Verdict Proves How Much Further We Have to Go

Guilty. The two former Vanderbilt football players on trial for rape have been found guilty. Prosecutors are being congratulated, the victim has thanked them for bringing about justice, and the public is relieved … but I am not satisfied.

I am not satisfied because none of this should have happened. And I’m not just talking morally — I mean literally. At every turn, this could have been prevented, or at least stopped.

The trial revealed testimony from numerous male students who were present before, during and after the assault. Any one of these witnesses could have changed the outcome for this young woman, but none of them did. Not the boys who helped carry her body into the dorm. Not her “friend,” who walked by her naked and abused body in the hallway. Not the other boys who helped carry her into the ringleaders’ dorm room. Not the roommate who pretended to sleep through the assault.

None of them saw her as anything but expendable. They ignored her humanity and left her to be raped.

The verdict in the Vanderbilt rape case should make me feel more confident about the justice system, about the protections for young women like my daughter, but in truth, it doesn’t. It leaves me colder than before.

I have a daughter who will be entering college soon. This is supposed to be my time to feel accomplished as a parent. My kid is almost at the finish line of “childhood.” She is almost ready to embark on a chapter of her life that will be written completely in her own handwriting, without me hovering over her shoulder suggesting edits. I should feel excited, but all I feel is dread and worry.

How can I in good conscience send her off to school knowing that the chances of her being assaulted are estimated to be as high as 1 in 4. What am I, as a parent supposed to do with that? I have a permanent knot in my stomach because I know that simply by being a woman, she is a target.

I’ve told her in the past that I will keep her safe, that her friends will have her back, and that her school will protect her. But when she goes off to college, are any of those things really true?

I want to yell out, “What’s happening to our country, when did we lose our sense of civility, our brotherhood and sisterhood!”

But that would be a very naïve exclamation, because you can’t lose something that you never actually achieved in the first place. Women are still seen as property, play things, sexual toys to be objectified and used. And those who follow the path to college with the hopes of making their mark on the world can’t just focus on that dream. They have to traverse the minefield known as America’s rape culture and its favorite pastime, slut shaming

I promised my daughter, all of my kids, that they would have the chance to find their place in the sun as long as they worked hard, played fair and stayed true to a moral code.

But how do I keep that promise if I can’t even keep them safe? The answer is that we have to keep working at it. So while I won’t be hovering over my daughter’s shoulder, I will be in the face of schools and the justice system. I will mount my soapbox and demand that women like my daughter are free to pursue their education unencumbered by sexual inequality and violence. It’s what we all need to do, if any of our daughters are to be truly safe.

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Principal Announces Snow Day with “Let It Go” Cover

As the rest of us were gassing up our generators and busting out our shovels in preparation for Juno, a Rhode Island principal was preparing in a whole different way.

Matt Glendinning, the beyond awesome principal of Moses Brown School in Rhode Island, announced a snow day in the greatest way we can imagine: through song. A parody cover of “Let It Go,” to be precise, posted to YouTube on January 26. The video, “School Is Closed,”  has since gone viral, with over 200,000 views in the last day.

With lyrics like, “School is closed. Because it snowed so much last night. School is closed. School is closed. So stay at home and sit tight,” it’s sure to be stuck in your head just like the original.

So watch the video above and pardon us while we get our Olaf on and listen to this on repeat without shame …

Image courtesy of YouTube

Gif courtesy of Oh My Disney

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Having a Bad Sleeper Doesn't Mean You're Doing Parenting Wrong

I see the articles pop up at least once a week: “How to Make Your Kid a Good Sleeper,” “Get Your Kid to Sleep by Changing These 3 Simple Behaviors,” “Your Kid Will Sleep When You Stop Being Such an Incompetent Parent.”

Okay, the last one might be a stretch, but that’s how those articles tend to make me feel. Every once in awhile the articles actually contain good information, but most of the time they feel like a shot at parenthood; a jab at the ineptitude of my parenting skills. Of course I realize that’s likely not the motivation behind the writing of such a topic, but that does nothing to stop the visceral reaction I have to them; the immediate need that arises to defend myself and yell from the rooftop that my kid doesn’t not sleep because I’m terrible at parenting.

I’ll be the first to admit I make plenty of mistakes, especially when it comes to trying to parent my kid. I don’t have that sort of weird pride that doesn’t let me concede to being wrong (unless you’re my husband, then I’m always right). But nonetheless, I don’t see these types of ever-present articles as helpful. Perhaps I’m not the only one.

See, my kid really, truly, didn’t sleep for years. I’m barely exaggerating. If you know me in real life or even followed my baby blog at the time, you know this one thing about my life without a doubt: I’m tired. I was a walking, barely-functioning zombie for the better part of the year and a half after my son was born. Honest to goodness, he did not sleep for four hours until he was eight months old. It was not unusual for him to go days and nights on end only sleeping in thirty minute bursts. That first night he slept four hours? I woke up with mastitis because I’d never gone so long without breastfeeding. Once he did start “sleeping” (quotes necessary because if you have a kid that really sleeps, you’d think my definition is a joke), he was still up two or three times a night and started his day before the crack of dawn. He’s 3 years old now and I still try to go to bed at 9 pm because I’m terrified of what the nighttime hours will bring.

During those first few months and well beyond that first year, I was convinced I was failing miserably. I was about to receive my first “F” and unfortunately it wasn’t in math class where it would’ve been well deserved; it was in life. It was parenthood, during the one time in your kid’s life when you’re not supposed to be able to fail because they’re too young to know better. I was terrified what this first major failure meant in terms of the rest of my parental duties. If I couldn’t get a kid to sleep for a couple of hours, how was I ever going to tackle the big stuff? The manners, the not doing drugs, the making good choices thing? I was doomed and I hadn’t even started.

I read all the books and talked to all the people. We worked with a sleep consultant and doctors and moms who’d been there. It always ended up the same way: with a shrug of the shoulders, as if to say, “I have no idea, this kid just won’t sleep.” And that’s exactly it.

He doesn’t not sleep because I’ve done everything wrong his whole life. He doesn’t not sleep because I put him in a Rock ‘n Play instead of a crib as a newborn. He doesn’t not sleep because I swaddled him or didn’t swaddle him. He doesn’t not sleep because he was breastfed or not. He doesn’t not sleep because I didn’t sing him lullabies or read him two books instead of three. He just doesn’t sleep.

When I stopped listening to everyone else’s opinions and stopped reading the articles that were insisting how easy it was to get a kid to sleep (and that almost always meant change something I’m doing because it’s obviously terribly wrong), I realized my kid was going to be just fine. It didn’t make me any less tired, but it did make me less exasperated and frustrated. I realized he was doing fine — great, even. He’s not cranky and fussy and overly tired. He wakes up bright and wide-eyed, excited to start his day. He has more energy after “not sleeping” and getting up at 5 am than I do after 12 hours of sleep in a luxury hotel bed. Now at 3 years old, he may not want to nap or go to bed or stay asleep, but in the morning, he’s bouncing off the walls, ready to do all the things. He wakes up full of curiosity about his surroundings and questions of what we’re going to do that day. He doesn’t crash later or explode into tantrums of exhaustion. He just keeps going and going and going. And I’m okay with that, even if the parenting articles keep telling me I’m doing it all wrong. Because I know now that some kids just don’t come with the good sleeper gene, and I’m not going to feel guilty about it. Tired yes, but guilty, no.

Image courtesy of Heather Neal

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I've Lost My Patience and I Think My Kids Took It

Bedtime is always quite hectic in our house. During the week my husband doesn’t get home until after bedtime, so it’s my responsiblity to put all three kids down for the night. This is after a day of driving them to and from school, staying at home with the baby, and trying to get some work done in between. Needless to say, at bedtime, my energy level is nearing empty.

The other night after putting all three kids to bed, my two-year-old daughter came downstairs to let me know she needed water. This has been her routine for the past couple of months, she comes out three or four times each night with excuse after excuse of why she can’t sleep. I got her the glass of water and brought her back upstairs and kissed her goodnight. Two minutes later she was downstairs telling me she was hungry. But rather than telling her to go back to her room, I lost it. I started yelling at her that I was tired of her coming out all of the time and that she needed to go back into bed because she was tired and needs the sleep.

It took only seconds for the tears to start streaming down her face. Her loud cries on the stairs were just loud enough for the baby to hear, so he woke up too. It took everything in me not to just go into the bathroom and lock the door until my husband got home. My patience had officially run its course.

I took a couple of deep breaths and immediately felt guilty. She didn’t deserve to be yelled at. Even if she came out a thousand times, she didn’t deserve to be yelled at. The more I think about it, it’s not just a bedtime routine that goes awry that makes me upset, it’s the little things too. It’s when the kids won’t pick up their toys or my girls take too much time in the morning deciding on what they want to wear to school. It’s when they all want me at once and I just need a little bit of space.

I’m not proud of myself. In fact, I’m quite ashamed. I never thought for one second that these little people that I love more than I ever knew that I possibly could, could wear my patience this thin. I don’t want to be this mom. The one that gets upset over minuscule things. The one that yells to the point of making her kids cry.

Being a mom to three kids has proven to be one of the hardest and most stressful things I’ve ever gone through. It’s tested my patience in more ways than one. And sometimes I fail at that test. There are so many struggles that I go through on a daily basis of trying to be the best mom I can be while also trying to be the best for me.

So now I’m on a hunt to find that patience again. To tell myself that they are just kids (and babies) and that they deserve better. I deserve to be better. I can do better.

Image courtesy of ThinkStock

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The 2015 Gerber Baby Is Almost Too Precious for Words

You don’t generally think of any company spokesperson as someone who can’t actually speak. But in the case of Gerber, an exception is really the rule.

A 7-month-old baby from East Petersburg, Penn., was selected as the 5th annual Gerber Be Our Baby Photo Search winner. Plucked from an adorably large field of 180,000 other cuties, Baby Grace will receive a $50,000 prize, a year’s supply of baby food, and appear in a future Gerber advertisement.

“The photo that won was taken only 5 photos from when I started taking pictures of her that day,” Grace’s mom said of the winning snapshot. “She must have taken her hands out of her mouth and posed them like that for a split second because I didn’t even realize how cute she was posing until after I was completely done taking pictures and looking back at what I had just taken!”

The very first Gerber baby was anointed in 1928 when an artist named Dorothy Hope Smith submitted a charcoal sketch of her neighbors’ baby — the lovely and lively Ann Turner Cook. Nearly 90 years later, Ann’s face is still the image most closely associated with the brand.

While there is no doubt that Grace is a doll, and Ann is a cherub, I’d be biased if I didn’t say my daughters, now ages 3 and 6, could have easily won the contest back in the day. And while I don’t have that much of an ego, I still think I was a pretty cute kid, too (don’t ask; I don’t know what’s happened since). The only issue would have been my girls sitting still and ceasing their whining long enough to look precious for more than 4 seconds. Frankly, I probably would have whined, too. Still, weren’t we cute?

Fortunately for the severely biased parents among us, Gerber admits that “every baby entered is a Gerber baby.” It’s just that Grace’s “captivating charm stole the judges’ hearts,” according to a Gerber marketing specialist.

Top photo credit: Gerber

Bottom photo credit: Meredith Carroll

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Insanely Adorable Kid Describes “Mind-Blowing” First Kiss

Do you remember your first kiss? Of course you do. Your mind and body were all “WHOA that was awkward in a good way” and you just had to tell your mother, sister, cat, best friend, and gym class immediately. Personally, we can’t say ours was particularly “mind-blowing” — and we’re not sure our brains went “KABLOOEY” — but if you ask Griffin, that’s exactly what happened to him.

Watch him describe his first kiss (including the “funny feeling” he got) in the video above. Looks like Griffin’s parents have a future heartbreaker on their hands.

Image and video courtesy of YouTube

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I Am Not a Bad Mom

“You’re mean Mommy!” “I don’t like you!” “I want a NEW mommy.”

My newly 3-year-old pouted loudly from the backseat. We were driving in the car and he was done with it. Twenty minutes from home, there wasn’t much I could do about it. We had to keep driving. (Not that I would ever give into a 3-year-old’s arbitrary demands. Ha.)

My heart was breaking, but I kept driving. He kept shouting the hurtful phrases I didn’t think I’d have to deal with for at least another 10 years. As tears streamed down my cheeks, I stopped the car in the middle of a quiet road and turned to face my little tyrant. He hesitated a minute as he took in the tears, but he repeated it. “You’re mean, Mommy. I don’t like you.” I told him it was because he was being mean to me. I know, mature, right? Way to be the grown-up and take the high road, mom.

We all have those days. The ones we’re not so proud of. The ones where we know we can do better. Sometimes I have them more often than I’d like to admit. This particular week my husband was out of town, the weather was cold and dreary, and school was cancelled. We might have spent too much time sitting on the couch in front of the TV. I might have spent too much time absentmindedly hitting refresh on all the social media apps on my phone until there was nothing left to refresh. We might have eaten too many fish sticks and chicken nuggets because I was too lazy to cook a real dinner.

It happens.

We don’t always do so well at this parenting thing. Certainly not all the time. But it doesn’t make me a bad mom. Yes, there are times when I could do better, but self-imposing the overarching label of “bad mom” would be doing myself an injustice. It’d be discounting all the times I was a good mom, a great mom. It’d be ignoring the sometimes not-so-obvious fact that while I’m somebody’s mom, I’m also still just a person. A person who has bad days or bad hours, sad moments or rough weeks. Calling myself a bad mom would be giving in too easily. It’d be giving myself permission to not pick myself up and brush the rough days away. It’d be devaluing all the little moments we have that are so good for no good reason at all.

I hear it or read it at least once a day, often times countless more. A friend or fellow parent saying, “Gosh, I’m such a bad mom.” I’m looking at you, “bad mom,” and I’m telling you that you’re not one. You may have had a bad day, or a bad moment, or maybe made a bad parenting decision. But these things can be fixed, turned around, changed. They can be made up for and set back on course. We all have bad moments. We all have times where we know we could do better but we choose not to. It’s okay, mom. It’s okay. Tomorrow’s another day. Tomorrow will be better.

Image courtesy of Heather Neal

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Every Kid Deserves a Chance to Play

For as long as I can remember, sports have been a huge part of my life. I was participating in gymnastics by the time I could walk, and went on to play T-ball, compete in swim and diving meets on the weekends during the summer, and run track and field…and this was all before I started middle school.

My parents were Olympic Gymnastics coaches with multiple training facilities, and we had gymnasts live with us that were training for the Olympics. In high school, I played seven sports (diving, volleyball, cross country, basketball, track and field, and softball), and with 14 varsity letters, I broke the record for the most received by any high school athlete (male or female). After graduation I went on to play Division I softball at the University of Florida for four years.

I believe that sports have played a huge part in making me who I am today. I’m not talking about the fact that I am a sports broadcaster; I’m talking about skills and lessons that defined me.

Through athletics, I learned how to be a good listener and follow instructions from my coaches. I learned the importance of teamwork and how to encourage my teammates to be better. I learned hard work, discipline and self-sacrifice out on the practice field. All of these traits are not only important in sports, but they are essential if you want to be successful in life. I’d like to think I am an example of that.

I believe that every child deserves the opportunity to play sports.

62 percent of kids today are not participating in sports. 33 percent of kids entering the third grade are obese or overweight. And 70 percent of kids who are playing sports drop out by the age of 13.

These statistics are troubling…it is time for a change.

When kids play sports, they score 40 percent higher on tests!

It is because of this that I decided to become involved with KIDS in the GAME. We believe that every child, regardless of their situation, deserves the chance to play sports. Our goal is to inspire youth to thrive in life by providing resources that get and keep kids involved in athletic activity.

Unfortunately, a big part of why kids don’t play sports is because they cannot afford to. KIDS in the GAME provides financial assistance to help youth of all abilities from low-income families gain access to after school programs and physical education programs in schools.

For the next couple of weeks we have a fun way for you to help get a kid in the game, and win some amazing prizes from some of our corporate sponsors. Please take a moment to play in our GRID4KIDS game pool that allows everyone the chance to win during the big game in Arizona.

To play, all you need to do is visit our GRID4KIDS site, pick a square in our 10×10 pool and watch the big game on Feb 1st to see if you your square corresponds with the score at the end of each quarter. There’s no purchase necessary to play and the prizes are pretty awesome! I am giving away the opportunity to come hang with me on set of American Ninja Warrior for season 7.

Check out KIDS in the GAME and GRID4KIDS, and let’s help give kids across America the chance to play sports and be fit. Every kid deserves the chance to play!

To donate, visit KIDS in the GAME.

Jenn Brown is an Emmy Award winning sports reporter, and is currently a host for NBC’s American Ninja Warrior.

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Waiting for the Last Cuddle

“Mommy, I need a cuddle,” he calls out in his 6-year-old voice.

He’s cold; he needs a cuddle. He’s hungry; he needs a cuddle. He misses me; he needs a cuddle. And so I stop. I stop whatever I’m doing and pull him into my lap, wrapping my limbs around his body, breathing in his little-boy shampoo on top of his little-boy head, hoping that if I really pay attention then maybe, just maybe, I won’t miss it so much when it’s gone.

Because I know it’s coming. I hear it whistling like a sad distant train, headed my way. It’s the sound of his sweet voice transforming into something unrecognizably deep, and the sound of his prickly cheeks sweeping against my hand. It’s the sound of heart-crushing silence, as no one in the house is hollering for a cuddle.

I’ve been through enough firsts and lasts to know what’s coming next. One day he won’t need the safety of my arms; he won’t need my heart pressed against his ear. One day he’ll ask for a cuddle, and it will be the last time I hear those words.

He’s straddling a line; we both are. Most of his neighborhood friends are a little older — ranging from 3^rd to 6^th grade — and so I clearly see who he’ll morph into, and in a blink. It’s hard to stay too deluded when you regularly have boys clomping around your house in shoes that could fit a grown man, with iPod Touches dinging in their pockets, with no cries for a mama’s hug. Right now, I can still kiss my boy’s face in front of his friends, and all I get is a toothless smile and a smooch right back. But one day, one day soon, his eyes will widen into a “Please don’t kiss me in front of them” message, and I’ll hear it.

That train, I can hear its song. It’s coming.

I don’t carry his body in my arms like I used to, but when I do — when I heave his body up on my hip, and I see the way his feet fall past my knees, remembering how they used to curl into my ribs a few short blinks ago, I know that will end, too. I know that one day I will put him down and never pick him up again.

And it’ll be sooner than I think.

One day the train will come roaring past me, sweeping away the kisses and cuddles and holding. Ending the tenderness of the early years of motherhood, which, after six years, are largely behind me already. He used to feed from my body, until he suddenly didn’t. He used to need me to rock him to sleep, and then one day I laid his limp, sleeping body down for a nap, as I had hundreds of times, not realizing I’d never lull him to sleep, not ever again.

I guess that’s the sad part of the “lasts;” we often don’t know they’re here, even while they’re happening.

Soon he’ll be too big, too cool, too heavy — just as he’s meant to, because little boys grow into men, and us moms knew the deal from the jump.

But maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll be left with an imprint of the “lasts.” The last time his sticky fingers wrap around my hair in a make-me-feel-better hug. The last dandelion he proudly picks for me. The last time he collapses into heaving laughs under my tickles, and I hear that unhinged laughter in that little-boy octave. The last time he wakes me up with his milky morning-breath kisses. The last time he calls out for a cuddle, and needs it like he needs air to breathe.

The good thing about entering the territory of “lasts” — if there’s good to be found — is that it forces me to pay attention, to show up. Because I never know when it might be the last time.

And oh, how I’ll miss those cuddles.

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Truth About Daycare Syndrome

Truth About Daycare Syndrome

Every year during cold and flu season, parents head to the pediatrician’s office worried their child might have “daycare syndrome,”  a nickname given to the series of daycare-related illnesses.

Often it means kids are kept at  home and forces lots of parents to call in sick to work. The colds and stomach viruses are real, but retired pediatrician Susan Aronson said “daycare syndrome” isn’t really a thing.

Recently, our South Philadelphia Early Head Start shared with WHYY some tips on how to keep your children and self healthy during cold and flu season. You can read the full story here.

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Prankster Dad Transforms House into Ball Pit

Remember when that dad pranked his wife by pretending to accidentally throw his child off a balcony and we all collectively had heart attacks right alongside her? Well, that dad is at it again. This time, no dolls were harmed in the making of this epic prank.

In the video above, watch as “Cool Dad” Roman Atwood, a “professional prankster” and YouTube sensation, fills his living room with 250,000 plastic balls — effectively creating every kid’s biggest dream (and every mom’s biggest nightmare): a gigantic indoor ball-pit.

Lucky for him his wife is such a good sport. If it were our house filled with plastic balls, we’d have only have four words for him: “Who’s cleaning this up?”

Image and video courtesy of YouTube

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Mom Makes Boy Version of American Girl Doll for Her Son

Ivette Martinez-Matejko gave a makeover to an old American Girl doll to make an “American Boy” doll for her 6-year-old son.

If my son asked me for a boy version of the uber-popular American Girl dolls, I’d probably hit the Internet, find my options lacking, and then shrug my shoulders and ask, “Uh, how about a Spider-Man action figure instead?”

It simply wouldn’t have occurred to me that I could try jerry-rigging an “American Boy” doll out of an old American Girl doll.

As I recently learned, however, you can and people do. Among said people? New Jersey mom Ivette Martinez-Matejko, who recently posted a photo of her creation to a mom-oriented Facebook group to which we both belong.

I got in touch with her over email and she explained to me that she transformed an old American Girl doll into a male doll for her 6-year-old son because his older sister had a doll and he’d felt left out of the craze. Sure, he enjoyed (more traditionally macho) activities like sports and using tools, but he also liked playing with dolls and pretending to be a daddy.

“My daughter was looking through her [American Girl] magazine and he was looking over her shoulder,” said Martinez-Matejko, a former teacher who is now a stay-at-home mom with four children. “He asked why American Girl doesn’t make boy dolls. I said they just don’t and he said it wasn’t fair because boys like to play with dolls too.”

“If they have American Girl dolls they should have American Boy dolls,” her son told her.

So Martinez-Matejko set about making her son’s wish a reality. She joined some Facebook groups for buying and selling American Dolls and found a doll with brown hair — the same shade as her son’s — and one flaw: a broken eye, which made it a fairly cheap buy.

“Since I would be cutting the hair and buying clothes I did not want to spend a ton of money on the doll,” she said.

She found a YouTube video to help her fix the broken eye, then stuck to her original plan of giving the doll a gender make-over: new boy clothes and a short haircut.

When she gave her son the doll, needless to say, he was thrilled. And the fellow moms in our Facebook group were impressed, too, leaving dozens of positive comments on Martinez-Matejko’s post. Martinez-Matejko said she even heard from a mom who wants her help in creating her own “American Boy” doll.

The American Girl company, she said, is missing a big opportunity.

“I think there would be a huge market for boy dolls,” she said.

I think so, too. Yes, action figures like Spider-Man are fun and all, but boys should get a chance to practice their nurturing skills with dolls just like girls do. And if you can tack on history lessons and motivational themes to such dolls — American Girl dolls are known for their historical context and can-do attitudes — even better!

A few months ago, The New York Times Motherlode blog ran a piece making a similar argument. At the time, the author, Sujatha Shenoy suggested hopefully that “American Boy” dolls might finally hit the market when her son is old enough to make them himself.

It’s a nice thought, but if moms like Martinez-Matejko have proven anything, it’s that if you’re creative enough, you don’t have to wait for the next generation to make boy dolls. Just get a used doll and adapt it to meet your needs. It’s not the easiest solution, but it sure beats settling for Spider-man.

Photo courtesy Ivette Martinez-Matejko

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Lightning McQueen, Spaghetti, and Other Things My Kid Is Obsessed With

When my son, Max, likes something, he really, really, really likes it. To the point where he’ll want to talk about it all the time, enjoy it all the time, and basically eat, sleep and breathe it. This may sound familiar to anyone whose child has ever had a thing for Thomas the Tank, LEGOs, Disney princesses, Minecraft, Star Wars, YOU KNOW. Yet not all obsessions are created equal, as I am well aware of given the variety of ones Max has gone through. Some are more expensive than others. Some are more time-consuming than others. And some are seriously more annoying than others. To further clarify this, I’ve rated the obsessions my son has had over the years on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 defined as “makes you want to pull your hair out” and 10 being “utterly awesome.”

The purple obsession. Rating: 7

The color was Max’s passion when he was 6. As with most of his obsessions, I had no idea how or why it started. All I know is that one day, I had to stop and take a photo of a house with a purple door. And we had to read and reread Harold and the Purple Crayon. And hoard purple crayons. And get him purple Converse. Still, in the scheme of obsessions, this one was cute and fun.

The spaghetti obsession. Rating: 4

Spaghetti with sauce for breakfast: check! Spaghetti with sauce for lunch: check! Spaghetti with sauce for dinner: check! Spaghetti with sauce for snack: check! It was a wonder Max’s head did not sprout strands of pasta. For a good year, Max was one big walking carb and getting him to eat anything other than spaghetti was quite the challenge. Not. Fun.

The car wash obsession. Rating: 1

Yeah, we had the cleanest car in the neighborhood. But centering your family life around car washes gets old really fast. Hosing down the car at home wouldn’t do. No, every time we drove by a car wash, Max wanted to go. When we gave in (about once or twice a weekend), he’d inevitably want to go through a second time. For the record, car wash obsessions are not cheap. When we refused to get our car washed, then he wanted to stand outside one and watch other cars go through. One time, Max grabbed a rag out of a bin and before I could stop him, he started wiping off some guy’s car. At home, his favorite activity was watching videos of, wait for it, car washes. My husband and I got to the point where we’d lie through our teeth and say all the car washes were closed for the day. The only part of this obsession I enjoyed: Making Max a car wash for Halloween, complete with a bubble blower shooting out suds.

 The Lightning McQueen obsession. Rating: 6

I loved the movie Cars as much as Max did. Lightning McQueen ranks up there as one of the most entertaining movie stars ever, even after you’ve seen the movie for the fiftieth time. (Trust me on that one.) As it turns out, there are a whole lot of Lightning McQueen items you can purchase. This I know because I’m pretty sure Max got every single one of them: Lightning McQueen pajamas, a Lightning McQueen comforter and pillowcase, a Lighting McQueen DVD player, Lightning McQueen books, Lightning McQueen sneakers, Lightning McQueen slippers, a Lightning McQueen suitcase, remote control Lightning McQueen, a Lightning McQueen garbage pail, need I go on? We invested a small fortune. And then … Cars 2 came out! With more stuff to buy!

The firefighter obsession. Rating: 10

Last spring, Max decided he was going to be a firefighter when he grew up. Every weekend (I am not exaggerating), we visit our local fire station. Totally free! OK, not so much the fleet of fire trucks but still, they’re far cheaper than frequent car washes. I got Max a plastic Fire Chief hat that he wears everywhere except to school, to bed and in the bath, and he looks seriously cute in it. It’s been a great conversation starter; strangers are always telling us about relatives who are firefighters. Recently, when we were on a Disney Cruise, a man walked up to us and handed Max a firefighter badge; he was one, and he wanted to recognize a kindred spirit.

This obsession has proven educational. When a smoke detector went off in our house the other day because of a loud battery, Max decided to hold an impromptu fire drill and reminded us all to stop, drop, and roll in case we were ever on fire. We are in good hands with Fireman Max, as he prefers to be called these days. The guys at our local station have taught him all about the equipment they use. For his birthday, firefighters gave him a ride to his party in a fire truck, a day neither of us will ever forget. Also, as my friends like to point out, I get to hang out with cute firefighters. As far as kid obsessions go, this one’s a win-win.

Images courtesy of Ellen Seidman

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6 Video Clips You Need to Get of Your Toddler This Year

You probably already have video clips of your toddler’s birthday party and some early milestones like laughing, walking and speaking some first words. But there are plenty of other moments that will one day be classics that you should be sure to capture now.

Here are some that should be on your must-have shot list this year:

1. That amazing greeting of squeals and hugs they bombard you with when they haven’t seen you for a few hours.

When I come home from work both of my toddler daughters race to me with puppy enthusiasm. I’m keeping my video clip to replay for them when they are teenagers and they can barely muster a polite ‘hello’. “This is how you used to greet me. You trained me to feel like a celebrity in this house. Now who wants a piggy back ride to the sofa for tickle time?!”

2. Them eating … anything.

It’s fascinating to watch toddlers eat. From their sometimes unsuccessful attempts to simply get the food into their mouths, to their finicky way of arranging their food. Right now, my daughter Clementine deconstructs all of her sandwiches and puts the contents in neat little piles. Then she systemically eats each pile and then the bread. I’ve got to capture that moment soon.

3. Running far and free.

It could be at the beach, or across a field, in the woods or outside just after a fresh coat of snow. Something about the carefree, full-throttle sprint of glee that a toddler makes is unique to their age and worth capturing.

4. Rolling around in the sun.

Similar to #3, the aim is to record the worry-free joy of being a toddler. Additionally, the comical nature of toddlers tumbling, rolling and trying to coordinate all of their body and limbs is worth saving. One of my toddlers can do multiple somersaults in a row while the other puts her head down and waves one leg in the air again and again. I want to save and view these moments for years to come.

5. Saying — or trying to say — a big word.

Maybe it’s a long family name, or the tongue-twisting breed name of the family dog? Think of a big word and film your toddler trying to say it. You can do several of these over the next year and then keep only the best ones. My daughter recently saw an episode of Sesame Street and became fixated on the word of the day: “humongous.” We happened to go to the Children’s Museum that day and everything was “humongous.” I got the best video clips of her saying it again and again that day.

6. Sibling love.

Any hugging, kissing, holding or helping behaviors between siblings are priceless not just to you but will also be to them as they grow up. You could also try capturing some sibling squabbles as well (if you can tolerate not interceding!).  Sometimes the demands toddlers put on their brother or sister can be so ridiculous that a clip could take on a life of its own!

And one final tip on all of the above: Take short video clips — 15-30 seconds at a time — rather than long ones. Brief clips hold our attention better and seem that much more special. Happy filming!

Image source: Thinkstock

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No, We're Not Getting a Dog and No, I Don't Feel Guilty About It

My kids are relentless when they want something. For a few months they have been begging for us to get a dog. Every time I tell my daughter that I have great news to tell her, she asks “Are we getting a dog?”

They know me so well they even point out how beneficial a dog would be to their wellbeing. They quote studies they find on Google about how having a pet will teach them to be more responsible, take care of others, and even comfort them during stressful times. Then they promise that they will be in charge of walking the dog and even volunteered to pick up poop (but I don’t believe them).

My kids haven’t succeeded in convincing me. I totally agree that having a pet is something wonderful and I love dogs. At some point I want my children to experience the joy of having a loyal furry friend. However, I’m also aware that the task of taking care of that new family member would rest on my shoulders. My life is full of responsibilities as it is and I don’t see how I could take care of one more being without losing it. Especially when I have a hard time juggling my job, my family, after-school activities, business travel, and everything else that comes with our hectic lives these days.

What’s helped me stand by my decision is the honest experience so many of my friends have shared with me. Even those who have welcomed the responsibility of having a dog with open arms have not sugarcoated at all how much time, energy, and money they dedicate to their pets. Of course for them the pros outweigh the cons and they don’t regret their choice, but they do admit it’s not for everybody. The last thing I want is to cave in to my kids and then realize I simply can’t take care of our dog. Shelters are full of pets that have suffered because their owners changed their minds or couldn’t take care of them anymore. I refuse to abandon a pet due to a poor decision on my part, so I’m standing my ground.

If you are on the fence on whether or not you should get a dog, here are a few questions you should ask yourself:

Are you willing to take on another responsibility?

Having a dog implies feeding, walking, bathing, cleaning, giving it love, plus brings an added expense. Be honest with yourself.

Who will take care of your pet if you’re not around?

If you work outside your home or travel frequently, keep in mind the need to plan for somebody to watch your dog when you’re unable to.

Do the benefits of having a pet outweigh the potential burdens?

Each family is different and only you can know what you are willing to do to bring more joy or comfort to your children.

Answering those questions honestly helped me make peace with my decision. So to answer my daughter’s question, no, we’re not getting a dog. At least for now.

Photo courtesy of ThinkStock

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We Don't Need to Ban Toboggans to Keep Our Kids Safe

I held my breath and ran towards Charlie as he slid toward the cliff. Or at least I tried to run. It was like a dream, where your legs are stuck in mud and the more desperately you try to go faster, the slower you end up moving.

We were tobogganing and, despite choosing a smaller hill for my 4-year-old, he had drifted on the icy run and was sweeping directly to a nearly four foot drop off a retaining wall from the schoolyard to the parking lot.

Usually the boys wear helmets when we sled, but today they weren’t, and so I sprinted. Stumbling, and falling across the ice that caused Charlie to go faster and me to go slower.

I yelled for him to put out his feet to slow down, for him to roll off his magic carpet, but he did none of it and I didn’t reach him in time.

Charlie sailed head first off the drop smacking on to the pavement below.

Our fun afternoon of tobogganing had taken a sudden turn, but if we were in many cities across North America, it’s an afternoon activity that would have broken the law.

News of the ban on tobogganing is big a headline this winter as cities are moving to join a trend started by Hamilton, Ontario. The Toronto suburb has banned sledding in municipal parks since 2001. Try to flout the rule and you’ll be faced with a fine of up to $5,000.

The toboggan bans happen to stem civic liability in the face of accidents. In the past decade, Omaha, Nebraska paid $2 million after a girl was paralyzed when she was sledding and hit a tree, and Sioux City, Iowa paid $2.75 million after a man was sledding, hit a sign, and injured his spinal cord. About 20,000 kids go to emergency rooms every year for sledding injuries.

But let’s contrast this growing ban with what happens in my community: Our city’s best spot to go tobogganing has a sign encouraging people to “have fun and play safe.” It discourages ramp building, chaining of sleds, and bans alcohol. It encourages people to clear the sliding area, wear a helmet, and be respectful to other sliders.

In other words, in an era where we default to bubble wrap, my community is trying to preach common sense.

Do we need laws banning activities, when all we need to do is make the decision to put a helmet on our kids? Is it so hard to teach them to walk up a hill away from where people are going down? And then, if something unfortunate happens, is too much to ask people to take ownership of their own role in the accident and not to sue/blame someone else for a spontaneous misadventure?

Unfortunately, in a society where people sue over spilled coffee, that last item apparently is too much to ask. Thus, the lowest common denominator rules the day and we end up with lawmakers taking evasive action to make something as simple and fun as tobogganing illegal.

I was lucky, Charlie’s fall just knocked the wind out of him. He wailed, more scared than anything, took a breather and then asked to climb back up the hill. It was a close call. It easily could have been worse, but it won’t stop us from heading out to the toboggan hills again. Instead it showed me that I need to be more aware of where we slide. It showed me that I need to make sure my kids have the proper safety gear. It showed me that I need to make sure my kids are aware of their surroundings and in control of their own safety. The rest of the afternoon showed me that winter is not meant for hibernation, and that tobogganing is a great workout of repeated hill climbing.

Tobogganing is a wonderful way to get outside and experience winter and banning it under the guise of it being unsafe is disingenuous. Let’s be honest, cities are making this move to stop lawsuits. If the motive is really safety, as it should be, then let’s encourage and remind people to be safe. I got my little reminder when I went riding with my boys, and we won’t hit a hill without helmets again. It’s not hard, let’s all practice some common sense and show the lawmakers that we know how to have fun.

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When Your Kid's Eating Habits Need to Grow Up

When you’re the parent of a small child, you become accustomed to never leaving the house without a diaper or “to-go” bag, a sack filled with everything you’ll need to care for your kid. No longer do you bounce to the grocery store unencumbered, now you stagger about, hunched, lugging a load of BPA-free products and soothing baby-safe butt-wipes, among other things. It’s difficult to think of a better symbol of parental responsibility than that damn bag.

I took a minimalist approach, tossing as few items as possible into a small back-pack. Though as Douglas Adams suggests in A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, I always carried a towel. Some people, with much stronger arm muscles than I, prefer Hermione-style bags with a million pockets that seemed to contain everything: not just one change of clothes but several, a small nursery’s worth of toys, hand sanitizer, etc.

You can track your child’s growth by your to-go bag’s contents. Eventually, solid food gets added to the mix, while diapers disappear. (And what a great day that was! Almost as good as the day we said goodbye to the stroller for good.) On a bad day, the to-go bag can feel like a 100-pound ball and chain, you can’t wait to be free of it. And then, one day, you are. You have a small child who doesn’t need a diaper or a change of clothes, one capable of waiting a while before eating a snack, or having a drink of water.

The thing is, I still know parents, even ones with children as old as eight or nine, who don’t go out without snacks for their kids, that last vestige of the diaper bag. I was guilty of this myself until recently. My son, now five and a half, became accustomed to me always having a water bottle and something to eat, even on short trips in the neighborhood. No matter how many times I explained that his body didn’t require sustenance to walk a few blocks, he’d whine and moan, and I’d find myself grabbing a container of cheddar bunnies or pretzels or graham crackers.

He had a connection solidly formed in his mind. Walking equals grazing on carbohydrates. When we took the subway, he’d eat to pass the time. I’d be packing a veritable picnic on afternoon expeditions through the city. And though ultimately I was the pusher literally feeding his habit, I didn’t do much to curb him. Until a few weeks ago, that is. I reached my limit when I picked him up from school and he greeted me with: “What did you bring for me to eat?”

“Nothing,” I said. “We live two blocks away. You can have a snack when we get home.”

He started to cry.

“That’s it, no more snacks on the go,” I said.

This required changing our routines. If I think that he’s going to get hungry while we’re out, legitimately hungry because it’s been a while since his last meal, then either I make sure that he eats before we go, or I build in snack time to our trip. We’ll stop somewhere for a quick bite, or we’ll bring something to eat and then find a good place to sit and enjoy it. So when we went to an art museum during his holiday break, for example, he enjoyed a snack between visiting exhibits. This was less a “let’s eat as we walk,” and more, “let’s take time out to give our bodies energy.”

There’s an important difference between the two. When our kids are little, they naturally want little bites all the time to fill their tiny tummies. It makes sense both for their natural inclinations and our patience to strap them into the stroller or car seat and give them food. But at some point they have to develop appetite discipline, and their stomachs become large enough, and their metabolisms slow enough, for them to do so. My son is in kindergarten, and he has a few hours between lunch and snack. In order to get through his day successfully, he needs to be able to not eat for a while.

I take a European approach to snacking, and am hoping to instill the same in him. Why scarf down something while on the go, or in the middle of working? Stop and taste it, enjoy and appreciate the food, and the effort that went into preparing it. You rarely see people in Italy or Spain, say, walking and munching, or even drinking coffee. Instead, they’ll sit down to eat or drink. I think this is healthy, both for the body and mind. It aids in digestion and reduces my stress during the day.

And I certainly don’t want my son just stuffing his face because he’s bored. He can occupy himself on a walk by looking around, talking, or daydreaming. There’s no need for him to eat, unless we’re in a rush and have no time to sit down for our food.

The only time this rule flies out the window is for long trips. There is definitely something very pleasing about taking a long trip to visit friends or relatives with good music on the car radio and a bag full of almonds or apple slices or bagel chips in your lap. But that’s when eating on the go makes sense! Not when you’re headed out for errands.

Liberate yourself from the final remnant of the dreaded diaper bag, my friends. Just say no to carrying snacks!

Image source: Thinkstock

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How Obama's Making Paid Family Leave a Reality for Federal Workers

A friend of mine is getting ready to have her first baby and is understandably anxious about how she’s going to seamlessly juggle the responsibilities of her big job while leaving her desk several times a day to pump — all of which will be bookended in the mornings and evenings with a long commute to and from work.

“I completely wish this country gave women six months for maternity leave,” she said. “Even partial return for three of those months would be great, i.e. working part time to ease back into it.”

You don’t have to look far beyond the United States to see other countries with enviable family leave policies that are set in stone (and in the law books). Here, on the other hand, many women are lucky if they get 6-12 weeks of unpaid leave (depending on the size of the company for which they work) after giving birth. Their partners are fortunate if they can use a week’s vacation time to spend with the new baby.

President Obama is not only sympathetic to the idea of mandating paid family leave, he’s actually making it happen. According to The Huffington Post, White House adviser Valerie Jarrett posted on Jan. 14 on LinkedIn that Obama is signing an executive action mandating at least six weeks of paid family leave for all federal workers.

In Why We Think Paid Leave is a Worker’s Right, Not a Privilege, Jarrett said the administration “can’t say we stand for family values when so many women in this country have to jeopardize their financial security just to take a few weeks off of work after giving birth. We can’t say we’re for middle-class stability when a man has to sacrifice his economic security to care for his ailing mother.”

The president will also be pushing Congress to pass legislation that would urge non-federal employers to follow suit in offering paid leave, particularly since the stress of balancing family and career isn’t exclusive to government workers. And it’s not just about giving birth, either — it’s about sick children needing to stay home from school and their parents feeling torn about missing work. Or wanting to be there for an ailing relative but feeling guilty for skipping out on meetings or worrying about the lost wages.

The goal, Jarrett says, it to fully support and empower “working parents in both their roles as workers and parents.” The White House plans on helping the states and cities that are “leading the way in this fight to pass laws to protect their workers.”

President Obama is asking Congress to pass the Healthy Families Act, which would press states and cities to provide workers within their borders with up to seven days a year of paid sick time as well as paid leave programs. And he’s putting his money where his mouth is by ensuring federal employees get at least six weeks of paid sick leave following the birth of a child, with the possibility of another six weeks of paid administrative leave.

Jarrett said 43 million American workers in the private sector have no form of paid sick leave, with only three states offering paid family and medical leave. This leaves the United States as the sole developed country not to offer paid maternity leave. It’s no secret that employers who feel valued by their employees in terms of pay and benefits tend to perform better — Costco, anyone?

For far too many women — my friend included — worrying about how to make it work after giving birth is a depressing fact of life. The fact that the president is trying to shift the paradigm, on the other hand, is music to the ears of those with families or wanting one. It’s also a change that’s long overdue, but one that’s warmly welcome despite being embarrassingly past its expiration date.

Image courtesy of Pacific Coast News

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8 Parenting Hacks to Just Say "No" To

The amount of times I’ve come across parenting hack lists rivals the amount of toilet paper our household goes through. Granted, some of ours gets used to wrap around the toilet or to pad the floor, but that’s not the point. A lot is a lot. I fully realize that some of them aren’t meant to be taken seriously but the problem is, not everyone realizes this. Even the stuff that seems brilliant (I’ll admit to being in awe of a few things on this list when pregnant with my first), really is an accident waiting to happen. Or a complete waste of time.

So without further ado, here’s 8 hacks to just say “no” to …

1. Bringing screens to restaurants to keep your kids well-behaved.

We have to teach them how to behave, just like our parents did — or suffer the consequences. No more raising droned-out kids who can’t socialize with family or friends or know how to conduct themselves in public. Not to mention that constantly giving our kids screens to monitor their behavior teaches them that they don’t have to self-regulate, that all of their joy and happiness comes from technology rather than from human interaction. It’s a slippery slope.

There’s no judgement though, because I get it. We used to be those parents and I’ll still hand over an iPhone for a few minutes now and then. But right now I’m just on a really intense wave of awareness regarding society’s obsession with technology, social media, stupid viral videos, sensationalism, etc. and how we’re passing this on to our kids.

Looking for a great alternative? Try a Boogie Board writing tablet. Or better yet, crayons and coloring books. So retro!

2. Signing up for all the online shopping newsletters.

Yes, there’s free shipping and OMG amaze-ball deals, etc. But you will be bombarded with daily emails and end up shopping way too much … or at the very least be tempted way more than it actually feels good to be.

3. Inflatable pools are not playpens, and laundry baskets are not bathtubs.

Just stop it you guys. C’mon.

4. Babymop suits.

This is an actual product. And while you can say it’s cute, in actuality it’s gross. Babies put enough random stuff in their mouth without giving them more options to digest.

5. Putting sprinkles or ketchup on everything just so they’ll eat.

I’d rather mine starve! No but seriously … things are out of hand if this is how you get your kids to eat. It’s totally normal that your kids refuse to eat, especially when they’re picky toddlers. But spoiling our kids with ridiculous acrobatics just to keep them happy/make them eat is an extreme we don’t need to go to. They won’t in fact starve, I’ve learned. They will eventual eat, sprinkle-free.

6. Rewarding good behavior with treats.

Recipe for disaster. All you’ll end up with is a self-entitled, whiny little kid (and we all know toddlers in specific whine enough) who won’t do anything out of a desire to be helpful or be a nice person. They’ll be doing it for a reward. Top that with unnecessary sugar intake and you’ll eventually find yourself wondering how, at this point, you can turn them into self-regulating (rather than self-indulgent), self-sufficient, contributing members of your family.

7. Cardboard box stair-slides.

Wheeeee!!!! BONK! Wasn’t that fun? Sure, sometimes they won’t get hurt — but often enough they will. I don’t know about you, but I have a hard enough time stopping my kids from climbing up and then leaping down from the table, jumping off the bunk beds, slamming each other’s fingers in doors, etc. I don’t need to create a situation that encourages getting hurt. Yes, I am that mom who makes my kids wear helmets when tobogganing, too. Especially if there are a lot of trees around. Not that there are trees in your house, but STAIRS. SLIDE. NO.

8. Using a vacuum to do your daughter’s hair.

I realize this is supposed to be adorable, because it all started with a video that went viral of a dad putting his little girl’s hair up in a ponytail this way … BUT. First, kind of gross, no? Given what that tube is used to suck up … unless you are cleaning it first and even then. Secondly, I think it’s just an open invitation for epic static hair. Thirdly, dads need to stop being portrayed (or portraying themselves), as bumbling fools who can’t figure out how to manipulate their daughter’s hair and a brush. Women don’t have special, more gentle hands and fingers. Men can do this too.

 Image courtesy of Selena Mills

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Demoting Employees on Maternity Leave Is Not Just Bad for Women

It’s an uncomfortable reality that no mom-to-be wants to confront as she prepares to take a hiatus from office life to give birth to a child: Her job — her day job, that is — isn’t safe. Being on maternity leave offers no automatic protection from layoffs.

And sure, it stands to reason that when dozens of employees are getting the boot, the one or two who happen to be on maternity leave lose their jobs, too.

But more than a few eyebrows are raised — including mine — when the employee on maternity leave is singularly replaced. As a journalist, I’ve seen such unfortunate scenarios play out firsthand in my line of work and recently, a new instance made headlines. Kate Bolduan, a co-anchor at CNN’s “New Day,” has reportedly been replaced by CNN colleague Alisyn Camerota. Camerota had been filling in for Bolduan temporarily while the latter was on maternity leave. CNN announced just days ago that Camerota had been promoted from fill-in to anchor on the morning show. (Full disclosure: I briefly worked with another “New Day” co-anchor at another network, but I have no inside information on this situation.)

Where does that leave Bolduan, who is still home with her baby? She’s been given a new (and, clearly, less prestigious) job at a CNN show airing later in the morning.

I don’t know the particulars of this staff shuffle — for all I know, Bolduan wanted the change — so I don’t want to cast stones specifically at CNN. But what I do know is that it doesn’t look good. Generally speaking, when an employee is replaced while she’s on maternity leave, it doesn’t just hurt her. It can hurt her company. Here’s how:

There can be legal consequences

An employee who is subject to a demotion or, worse, is fired while on maternity leave could choose to file a discrimination lawsuit. A lawsuit is no slam dunk and employment discrimination cases are notoriously hard to win. But even pending lawsuits, whether they are successful (see: HCS Medical in Milwaukee) or not (see Bloomberg), are costly headaches that companies don’t need.

There’s usually a decreased office morale

Do you really want your employees walking around worrying that if they decide to start families, their jobs, too, could be on the line? The New York Post reports that female CNN staffers were angered when they learned Bolduan was being replaced, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they, especially those who are or would like to get pregnant, were frightened for their careers as well.

You’ve damaged your reputation

Being family-friendly is one way for a company to attract talent, especially female talent. If you’re known for demoting or firing employees while they’re on maternity leave, you’ve essentially torpedoed your efforts to appear family-friendly.

I’ll play devil’s advocate for a minute: What if an employer had already made the decision before a woman’s leave that he wanted to demote or fire her for totally legitimate, performance-related reasons? What if the employer just didn’t get a chance to make that move before the woman’s leave began?

Here’s a thought: How about waiting until the employee has returned from leave and, instead of demoting or firing her, work with her on an action plan? Give her a set amount of time to improve her performance by meeting specific, pre-determined goals. If it still doesn’t work out, then an employer can make his move.

The potential downside to this, of course, is that she doesn’t improve and, in the meantime, she’s continued to underperform in her position — which might mean lost revenue or other problems for the business. The employer might also be accused of giving an underperforming employee special treatment by delaying her termination. But is that worse than the three consequences I outlined above?

That’s a question every employer must answer for themselves … but I’ll admit that I hate it when the answer is “yes.”

Image courtesy of ThinkStock

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6 Ways I Want to Parent More Like a Grandparent

As a parenting blogger, I spend a lot of time thinking — really thinking — about parenting. Am I doing it right? Do I like what I see through my children’s mirror eyes? Sometimes the answer is “yes” and I pat myself on the back. Other times the answer is “not so much.” It’s those times that I stop and ask myself whether I’m somehow to blame. And while the answer is almost never clear, I feel like I’ve got a respectable understanding of what it takes to raise a couple of goodhearted kids. That is, until my parents walk through the door and show me how it’s really done.

Who are these grandpeople able to parent like magic with infinite tenderness and compassion? Who are these gentle souls able to bring out the very best of my kids without even trying? Were my parents always this good at parenting or is this parental sorcery something they’ve developed over time?

I don’t know the answers to these questions, but I do know that my kids are different (really, really different) when they’re around. They’re happier, calmer, gentler, and more receptive overall. While I can only assume my kids are responding to some kind of placid energy their enchanted grandparents are putting out there, I find myself standing off to the side, mouth agape, wondering how to break me off a piece of that. Is there an online class I can take? Can I pledge some secret society?

Probably not, so I jot down mental notes and consider that maybe parenting doesn’t have to be so hard. Maybe I don’t have to parent from an exhausting place of fear or logic all the time. Maybe it’s as simple as parenting by heart.

Take a look at six grandparent behaviors I observed and how I’m looking to mimic my way to parental magic this year:

1. Listen. Really listen.

Grandparents have heard a lot of noise in their lives. They’ve seen it all and heard it all, but when a grandchild talks, they listen. They probably listen better than I ever have as a parent. They don’t feign interest or make limited eye contact before revisiting their Facebook feed — no! They stop whatever they’re doing and focus entirely on that grandchild struggling to formulate a very important sentence about Thomas the Train and those no good Troublesome Trucks. They delight in the mundane details of that cool rock found on the way to school that day and the five minutes it takes to tell a knock-knock joke all wrong. Grandparents love it all because they’ve lived enough life of pleasures and pains to know what really matters in this life — and it’s those kids.

2. Connect through touch.

I hug my kids all the time. I hold my little one’s hand (when he lets me). I snuggle up when I can, but my parents do these things differently. They don’t distance themselves throughout the day because they’re busy; they incorporate close proximity in nearly everything they do. They invite the kids to sit next to them while they watch TV or hand over the funny pages and pat the seat next to them while they read the paper. They take the time to sit down beside the child drawing a dinosaur at the kitchen table or place their hand over the youngest generation’s in recognition of how far the family has come. Their inviting energy is constant and it feels both safe and comfortable. While I have no doubt that my physical affections have the power to do the same, they aren’t something I need to stop and do, but rather incorporate into my everyday actions.

3. Incomparable understanding.

Hair-trigger reactions? Bad parent moments? Not with grandparents. Coming from the unique perspective of having traveled this parenting journey before, it takes a lot to rattle grandparents. Bad grades, a swallowed marble, missed curfews, and scratched bumpers are no match for these seasoned travelers. When it comes to guiding kids along the path to maturity, grandparents don’t get hung up on the little things. Instead, they see the bigger picture where good and bad flush out into a colorful story made only more beautiful by the challenges. They accept and love their grandchildren not only for who they will one day be, but for who they are in this very moment. Tomorrow will come and it will be what it will be. Today is precious and fleeting.

4. Impart wisdom.

My parents have this way of imparting wisdom that doesn’t come off as preachy or self-serving. They don’t shake their crooked fingers to warn of trouble ahead or use fear as a stepping stone to solid living. They share their stories with humor and candor, using quirky clichés and outdated references we can’t help but find endearing. And my kids eat it up. What kind of wizardry goes into that kind of enlightened storytelling? Seemingly the kind that opens doors of communication, sinking valuable life lessons into the bones of those who need to hear it most.

5. Spoil.

“It’s our job to spoil our grandkids!” my parents will say, but it’s how they spoil my kids that impresses me most. They spoil by attention and experiences. Whether it’s a trip to the space museum or the movies, or the time it takes to finish a difficult puzzle or cook a meal from scratch, my parents give generously of their time and hearts without worrying about the mess, what’s next, or whether they’re 10 minutes late to bed that night. For they know that when they spoil their grandchildren with love, they also spoil themselves.

6. Try.

I’ve gotta hand it to grandparents for always trying. They’ll gladly watch that third Lord of the Rings movie without ever having seen the first two. They’ll dine at that kid-friendly restaurant with plastic mac ‘n cheese knowing it makes the kids happy. They’ll get schooled on the interworkings of their phones by tech-savvy grandkids who know it better than they do. And they do it all with a smile, because they can, because they want to, and because it’s worth it.

In the end, I know my role as parent is different than that of a grandparent. I understand that it’s my job to meddle in details and logistics, but I also know that if my parents had to do it all over again, they’d parent more from the heart the first time. And that’s what I’m trying to do — for their young hearts as much as my own.

Images courtesy of Lori Garcia

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15 Signs You're a Sleep-Deprived Mom

I never truly appreciated the luxury of sleep until I had a baby. My first child had horrible colic and wouldn’t sleep more than an hour (at most) at a time. The sleep deprivation was so bad that I’d just sit and cry to my husband because I was so tired and felt like I’d never sleep again.

The scary thing is that the statement was not far from the truth. Of course I sleep, but now with three little ones, glimpses of it are few and far between. My youngest son, who is 11 months, doesn’t sleep through the night. And when he does on those rare occasions, my two-year-old will come in our bed in the middle of the night because she wants to “cuddle.”  Sometimes I swear that they conspire against me to see how long I can go without getting a good night’s sleep.

Needless to say, I wake up every morning extremely tired and in a little bit of a daze. The other morning, shortly after waking up, I walked into the kitchen to make myself some coffee. After pouring in the milk, I scooped what I thought was sugar into the cup. I went to put the spoon away and realized that it wasn’t sugar I used to sweeten by cup, it was my son’s baby oatmeal. Yep, that’s what lack of sleep will do to you.

I know I’m not the only one doing crazy things because of lack of sleep. I asked other moms about things they have done to prove they are sleep deprived, and I think it’s safe to say we can all relate to some of them!

“You wake up on a Saturday and start making lunch for your child to take to school.” — Brianne M. 

I’ve known several moms who have done this! At least you have lunch prepared for the day hours in advance, right?

“You put your coffee mug under [the] Kuerig … upside down.”  — Corine I.

Sometimes I think I’m not capable of functioning in the morning until I’ve had my first cup.

“You walk out the door to take your kids to school wearing your bathrobe and not your jacket … and it’s below freezing.” — Courtney B. 

At least it’s warm!

“You put your nursing cami on inside out and as a result, your boob falls out at the grocery store. “  — Lacy S. 

I’ve totally done this before (minus the boobs falling out part.)

“You answer the door with your nursing tank top unsnapped and the UPS man catches a sneak peek.” — Merritt N. 

Yep, I’ve done this too. I’ve even answered the door while pumping and completely oblivious to it. Oops!

“You walk out of the pumping room at work and forget to zip your dress back up.” — Gabrielle K. 

I’ve forgotten to button up my shirt several times after doing this and always wondered why people were looking at me strangely.

“You spit out your toothpaste on the counter instead of in the sink.” — Heather B. 

At least you remembered to brush your teeth!

“Showering clothed … one too many times” — Allie K.

I’ve walked in with my socks and glasses on … on more than one occasion.

“When the UPS guy, mailman, and Fedex employees have all knocked on your door and handed you your house keys before they give you your packages!” — Brandi G.

I do this all the time. My husband does it too. We need sleep.

“When you forget to put the cup under the dispenser for the Keurig and then get mad because you think someone stole your coffee when it’s only you and the kids home. Yeah, I did find out that the base under the cup holds an entire medium cup of coffee though.” — Mary Elizabeth D.

Good to know it has great capacity for holding liquid!

“I always read while nursing. Well, [one time] I read the same novel twice, once in paper back and once on my e-reader and didn’t realize until I reached the end.” — Kristin C. 

This one literally made me laugh out loud. I’ve never done that, but I’ve fallen asleep trying to read a book while nursing on more than one occasion.

“When you put the milk in the pantry and the cereal in the fridge.” — Jenny S. 

All. the. time.

“You put your baby monitor in your purse instead of your iPhone.” — Alice G. 

To be fair, those things are very technologically advanced these days — and all too easy to mix up!

“You put the clothes in the dryer and forget to turn it on.” — Shandi D. 

Yes, I’ve done this. And as a person who loathes doing laundry, this is devastating knowing you have to wash them again!

“When I put hand soap instead of toothpaste [on my toothbrush] and then brushed my teeth with it. Yuck!” – Anita U. 

Yuck is right!

Image courtesy of Lauren Jimeson

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