by mayberry on September 1, 2010
Two big kids, off to school.
I can’t help thinking in nevers and lasts instead of firsts.
The good nevers and lasts, like “never paying for child care again” and “last time shuttling from this drop-off to that drop-off.”
And the bad ones, like “Never again being the mother of a baby or a toddler or a preschooler.”
Like so many other parents today, I’m sad because I feel the door closing on this time in our family’s life. I know the tears sliding down my cheeks today are not for the brave boy with the Superman backpack. They are for the boy who’ll never go to kindergarten.
But this is not the last day without him. It is only one of many.
And it is the first day in a new and exciting world for my kindergartner. When I pick him up today, I’ll compose myself and celebrate with him.
by mayberry on August 27, 2010
This summer my kid tried out a new sport (at an informal, walk-on type of camp) and liked it. We were told the beginning team was less of a financial commitment than the more elite teams, and no try-outs were required. The team would practice in a town close to us; the camp was about a 45-minute drive away.
Email from me to coach: My child enjoyed the camp and wants to join the team. Could you give me the contact info for the parent rep so I can make the arrangements?
Email from coach to me, several hours later: That’s great! Please call me at …
Me (thinking): sigh … I have to pick up the phone?
The next day, dial. Exchange pleasantries.
Coach: OK, I’ll email you back with the parent rep’s email address!
Me (thinking): You’ve got to be kidding me.
I dutifully email the parent rep.
Me: My child enjoyed the camp and wants to join the team. Could you send me the paperwork (my address is below) and let me know where to send my payment?
Parent rep reply: That’s great! Please call me at …
Me: *headdesk*
When I called the parent rep, I learned that the team doesn’t have enough players to be eligible for competitions. BUT, I can enroll the kid in a “class” which would:
- cost the same
- meet in the faraway venue at 8 a.m. on Saturday mornings
- require us to join a club, which in turn would require paying dues and performing mandatory “volunteer” hours
- allow the kid to learn some of the skills of the sport or risk “falling more and more behind” (seriously, she said it)
My husband thinks this is a no-brainer. No team. Enroll in a local, group lesson in a similar sport instead, saving money and sparing a good deal of inconvenience. Next spring, let the kid try out for the team and hope for the best. I’m inclined to agree, since the squeeze I got from the parent rep was uncomfortable (not to mention the air of bait-and-switch around this entire experience; e.g., the summer camp was originally billed as free, and then suddenly turned out to cost $10/hour).
But the kid really likes the sport, and I get the sense that holding your nose and dealing with this kind of stuff is common in youth sports. We could postpone the hysteria, but only temporarily (and would they penalize the child later for the parent’s crime of not enrolling earlier?). I am torn.
by mayberry on August 24, 2010
Because I am a yoga nerd, I was unreasonably excited to learn that on the Saturday morning of BlogHer, Lululemon would be hosting a free yoga class in Bryant Park. A whole new and different kind of squeee.
So I trotted down 6th Avenue at the appointed hour, and it was perfect. It was sunny and warm, but not too hot or humid. The sky was beautifully blue. There were lots of people, but plenty of room. In front of me was a woman who had to be at least 75 years old, pushing one of those old lady shopping carts. Her hair was dyed bright red and she wore a leotard and tights under her clothing. After the class she sipped water from an old bottle of ibuprofen.
Two celebrity Jivamukti teachers, Dechen Thurman (yup, same Thurman) and Matthew Lombardo, led the class from the same stage that plays host to Monday night movies in the park. But down on the grass were two dozen more teachers (see the group in yellow, second photo) who circulated among the students to give corrections and adjustments.
Normally, I take class in a small, windowless room with one teacher and no more than 10 other students. And I love it. But being outside, in a large group, is really special, and not just because we were encouraged many times to share our energy with those around us (so not why I practice yoga). And hands-on correction from teachers who know what they are doing is like getting a really, really good massage. A short massage. But still.
After the class was over (60 minutes flew by) and I was rolling up my mat to leave, a butterfly landed gently on my neighbor’s mat. Everyone admired it, and then it fluttered away. And I walked back up 6th Avenue to the Hilton.
P.S. If you’re curious about what it takes to become a yoga teacher (I was), I just posted an interview with a friend who’s in training.
by mayberry on August 19, 2010
At our small blog session at BlogHer, someone (wish I knew who!) made this lovely comment:
I think maybe if you have a small blog you have a tendency to think it’s because you’re lazy but maybe it’s quite the opposite. Maybe your blog is small because you’re living. You’re throwing parties for your kids and not so your blogging community is impressed by it. You’re living the life other people are just trying to document.
To that end, here’s what I’ve been doing instead of blogging … posts to come soon, I hope.
- My little sister got married and it was beautiful. Worth every minute of the 22 hours it took to travel from Mayberry to northern California.
- We went to Disneyland and spent approximately one million dollars. Also worth it.
- We went to Legoland California and spent a couple hundred bucks so my son could play with a big bucket of Duplos. Just like the ones he has at home.
- We came home and landed amid the circus that is “Extreme Makeover: Home Edition” filming right here in Mayberry.
- Somehow our little one became old enough for kindergarten. Who allowed that?
P.S.: I dragged my family to Pinkberry twice in California to make up for not going there in NYC. However, I’ve since learned that Yogurtland may be better. Opinions, Californians?
by mayberry on August 10, 2010
Let’s revisit the to-do list and see how I did.
1. Present session: Check! And, WOW. This was really wonderful. My co-presenters, Celeste and Nora, were a dream to work with. We had a good crowd and the questions and comments really made the session both informative and empowering, if I do say so myself. See for yourself at the liveblog or at one of the recaps/discussions I’ve come across: Alma from Marketing Mommy, Megan from Acorn Dreaming, Rita at Surrender, Dorothy, and Emily Rosenbaum (read the comments too!).
2. Cheer for the Tutus for Tanner runners. OK, so I did this virtually instead of in person at 6 in the morning.
3. Take a yoga class in Bryant Park. Check! This was so fun. I’ll post about it separately.
4. Play “Blowfish” with Monica and Olivia. (And follow their rules of swag: Take only what is truly useful and portable.): Not really to part A (how did I forget to show you two the iPad?), but yes to part B. I didn’t get very far in the expo halls. I was too busy going to sessions and chatting.
5. Avoid emergency rooms and hospitals: Check! Not so much as a blister or hangnail!
6. Blithely ignore any drama: Check. I think there was less of it this year, and whatever there was, I remained blissfully unaware of it. The whole conference felt more positive and friendly than ever.
7. Have some Pinkberry yogurt. NO. Sadly.
8. See some old friends: Check!
9. Meet some friends for the first time: Check!
10.Make some new friends: Check!
11. Miss some friends who won’t be there: Sad-faced check.
12. Find some time for non-blogging NYC friends and family too: Check!
by mayberry on August 6, 2010
The multitalented, multifaceted Kristen at Motherhood Uncensored interviewed me for a series on work-at-home moms. Check it out.
by mayberry on August 4, 2010
O is for Opie
by mayberry on August 2, 2010
Here is one Mommy Job I would like to quit: Bag packer and stuff rememberer. You start out with a tiny infant and a diaper bag that’s three times as big as said infant. Then as you and the baby grow you realize you don’t need most of the stuff you were carting around and you take it out. Eventually you have a potty-trained child and you grow confident enough to leave the house without a spare outfit, a large plastic bag, and a huge wad of baby wipes.
But the problem is that by then, there are extracurricular activities in the picture. And then, then, you are stuck needing all kinds of supplies and accessories for those activities. And so you–I–begin amassing a collection of bags. Pictured above: one for rollerskating. One for ice-skating. One for school (been sitting there since June 4). One for “water day” at child care. One for the Nintendo DS that comes along for long car rides to ice skating. One for day camp. Not shown: Lunch bag. Soccer bag (last time anyone played soccer was two years ago). Indoor pool bag. Outdoor pool bag. Other child’s school bag. Carry-on bag for air travel (kid 1). Carry-on bag for air travel (kid 2). Activity bag for car travel (x2).
In theory, having a designated bag for each kind of outing is a good idea; you pack once, and then you restock, and then you grab on your way out the door. But you also end up with scenes like this one in the corner of your guest bedroom. (Also not shown: karate clothes piled on guest bed.) And somehow only one person is responsible for finding the right bag, making sure the right stuff is in it, bringing it to the car, and bringing it back in from the car.
Sucker, thy name is Mommy.
by mayberry on July 26, 2010
I tease that Mayberry is a small town, and it is, especially if you’ve come here from New York City and you are used to being able to go to Whole Foods or a really good Indian restaurant any old time you want. But it’s still basically a suburban environment. We have sidewalks and fences and two grocery stores. We do have some neighbors who keep chickens, but after their rooster caused a flap (har har), the city passed an ordinance prohibiting roosters (although hens are still allowed).
Another neighbor has a large garden, and we’ve dabbled in pumpkins and a raspberry bush. Mostly, we buy our food at the store. But this year, we’ve tried harder to buy local. Our freezer holds 1/8 of a side of beef from a farm about 15 miles away. And we finally joined a CSA. The smart folks at what we like to call “our” farm arranged to deliver produce shares to Jeff’s workplace, and we signed up immediately.
This weekend, our farmers held an open house, so we packed up the kids and drove to the farm. Photo is filched from their website, because I was too busy enjoying the visit to take any pictures (also I might have forgotten the camera). We got to meet the friendly, welcoming couple who run the farm, their three kids, their two dogs, their cat, and a bunch of their chicks and chickens. We saw their beehives and their greenhouse and the garage converted into a packing area for their boxes, complete with long wooden slide for empty boxes traveling to the assembly line. We saw their pond and their tire swing and some of the 20 acres of fields. In these fields, they grow dozens of crops for themselves and their members, and they do everything by hand with no pesticides or synthetic fertilizer. (They have some paid and work-share staff.)
We squished in the mud (there was a lot of mud) and tasted tomatoes and green beans right off the vine. It was idyllic while at the same time an important reminder of how much work goes into an enterprise like this.
We think it made an impression on the kids. When we got home, Opie created a new Mii avatar and named it after the farmers’ son. I guess that’s what happens when you take a small-town boy out of the town and into the country.
by mayberry on July 22, 2010
A few months ago Jeff suggested that we start having a regular family game night. Usually on Thursdays, we’d have pizza for dinner and then play a game. Board game, outdoor game, Wii game–all’s fair and we take turns choosing, even the grown-ups.
Frankly I thought it was a little dopey. We are fairly good at eating dinner together most nights, and after dinner we often spend more time together, just doing whatever (pause to say that even during the school year, there’s very little homework to deal with. Montessori FTW!). So, like, what would be the point of formalizing Family Game Night?
Well. The kids loooove it. They know that it happens on Thursday. They remind us that it’s coming. They remind us that it’s TONIGHT!!! Whoooo! Family Game Night!! They discuss whose turn it is to pick the next game (they keep track when I cannot). They sometimes even play the game without being sore losers.
So, ritual. Ritual and routine. Perhaps you’ve heard that children like them, even crave them? Family Game Night says yep, they do. You can bet on it.
Games we love:
Jo wants to play Scrabble tonight. Attagirl!
