LA Moms Blog

When Baseball and Hebrew School Collide

This post has absolutely nothing to do with baseball but like many of my past blogs, its origins can be traced to a day at the baseball field. I was stuck in a never-ending line waiting to register my son for spring baseball. This is the same Little League that last year introduced themselves to me with the warm and friendly line, "Welcome to the cult." Truth be told, we had a wonderful experience last season with kind, caring and "let's just have fun out there" coaches. But I'm in the littlest part of the little league. As my son grows bigger, the baseball world expands too. Parents seem to change the deeper they get into the world of sports. I hear them around me at the snack shack, a bleacher or two over and definitely while waiting in line for sign-ups. As the odd-mom-out in this baseball world (my son probably has a season or two left in him), I listen and observe, knowing full well there will likely be fantastic blog fodder. And this cold, winter morning did not disappoint. Actually, it did--disappointed me as a parent but inspired me as a writer.

Amidst the usual competitive talk of travel teams, feeder schools and questionable umpire calls, the subject of Hebrew school made it's way into the conversation. It seems one of the dads behind me was fed up with his temple. Now that his son was approaching Bar Mitzvah age (13), the Hebrew program was becoming more intensive. The temple, it seems, had the "audacity" to schedule his son for two evenings a week. "Can you even believe it?" he questioned his partner-in-conversation. "What the hell is he supposed to do, not play football and baseball?" I sat there letting the question hang in mid-air, wondering if this was how he presented the situation to his young, impressionable son. It's not that I cared one way or another if his son went to Hebrew school. That is a family's personal choice. It was the way the question and priorities were framed in discussion that struck me. And so I was truly glad when one of the other parents he was talking to asked what I was thinking.  "Are you religious? Do you practice at home?" He answered, "This may sound bad but we don't have time. My wife and I both work." Interesting how these same parents found time to travel all over the state for baseball games and somehow got the kids to nighttime practices. Again, it's a personal choice. It wasn't the choice I was reacting to as much as the attitude. Kids can sense what is important in a family. They know what parents value, what they make time for and what ultimately is most important in the pecking order.

Our Holiday Library Tradition

   Like in most families, the younger members of ours have two weeks off from school this year. This presents the usual problem of “what should we do?”

 While it’s a relief to be away from the hustle and bustle of school and sports and classes…all of which are on hiatus too, it’s too easy find kids and other family members bored after the frenzy of the holidays and looking for something to do.

 Our solution this year was to head to the library in advance of the season. In this economic downturn, though we are avid bibliophiles and media consumers, we’ve found we’ve had to wean ourselves from our Blockbuster/Barnes and Noble/Best Buy habit and have been delighted to discover the benefits of our local library.

 This week we made a pre-holiday visit and returned home with books, videos and audio tapes for the whole family. I like to leave them lying around in odd places to inspire everyone to skip the mindless TV shows, video games and computer and …umm  read or watch an educational DVD or listen to a great audio book.

 

The Holidays Used To Be My Favorite Time Of Year

I grew up loving Christmas; it was always such a wonderful time for my family to celebrate and be together. But now that I'm a mom, this time of year is really just a pain in the ass.

When I was a kid, my mom made so many things: she sewed clothes for us as presents, she made the gifts we gave the teachers, she cooked wonderful food for our special dinners, and she decorated our house like a winter wonderland -- even though it was in Hawaii.

This year I'll barely have time to make dinner on Christmas Day, let alone take the time to decorate the house, sew clothes for my kids and keep the home fires burning. (Trust me: none of those things are happening.)

The Perfect Christmas Storm

This Christmas has really been a struggle. I know, every Christmas is a struggle for everyone but this one really has been the perfect storm of Christmas fiascoes. It all started to fall apart about a week ago, which was right when I realized it was getting really close to Christmas.

The first thing that happened was that our credit card was stolen. That is, someone was charging things on it, so it needed to be canceled on Friday the 18th. Canceling the card meant that we would be without credit for four or five days until the new card arrived. Since all our gifts were bought I thought we'd be able to manage without it and canceled it. Not that I had much choice.

With a few minor snafus we made it through the weekend. The dryer started making some really awful sounds Saturday. We knew the machine needed replacing so we were off to Sears. We were in the car before we remembered we had no credit card.  Oh well, it could wait until the following week when the new card came. No problem...Famous last words.

Kind of In Love with My Kids

Please don't take this post the wrong way.  I am not a model mother at all times.  I yell, I coax, I bribe with candy, I forget to make dinner sometimes, I scream on the soccer field, I don't always like my kids' friends, I get very irritated at my kids regularly, I sometimes fake my interest in their stories, and I often forget the important details of their daily lives.  Just yesterday, I chose to go to my own chiro appointment and skip sitting through two awards assemblies: during one, my middle child would receive a 20-second recognition for her writing and then, an hour later, her sister would receive her own props for drama in a cattle call of awards for her grade.  So I'm selfish, but my back feels better and hey, when mama's happy, isn't everyone happy?

But here's the thing: I'm kind of in love with my kids lately. 

That may sound silly... after all, haven't I had these same kids for the last nine years of my life?  Really, it's been a decade, if you include the pregnancy of my firstborn.  But if I have to be quite frank, I don't know if I've always been "in love" with them. 

Can't We All Just Get Along Santa?

Decision made. I'm going to leave the mom-guilt on the shelf and make the decision that feels right to me and that is: I am NOT going to teach my kid the Santa Claus myth. This is always a hot parenting debate around this time of the year and I've heard every good and bad argument for and against Santa Claus and his whole posse of reindeer, elves and that very supportive wife of his. I'm talking EVERY argument and people are cut throat and passionate about their position on the matter to the point of being absolutely rude. Bottom line, I don't think the pro-Santa parents need to be so mean to the non-Santa parents and vice versa. Can't we just agree to disagree? 

My daughter just turned two and a half and this is the first Christmas she knows who Santa is. She recognizes his image, but she hasn't been taught that he flys around the world in a sleigh pulled by magic reindeer to come down the chimney and leave gifts for good boys and girls. At this point, I'm pretty sure she just thinks he's a pretend character that is a lot of fun. Wacky, huh? 

It's the online life for me!

"I'm on Facebook, but I'm not on Facebook - it just sucks up your time. And I've never even seen Twitter." I was not the person who said that, but it got me thinking.

Being able to search Google, type a URL into a browser, and get news, weather, and your bank balance from the Internet aren't things that define the online life - they're part of it, but even more, they're life skills that enhance your offline life. There's so much more to living online.

I consider myself far from cutting-edge, but compared to a lot of people I know in my offline life, I'm living in another dimension. I'm always thrilled to see people dip their toes into social networking, and it's so nice when I don't have to explain how a blog works, but it continues to surprise me how many people's lives still don't have much of an online component. I'm not talking about people without access; these are people who use computers daily and are never without their cellphones - they've got the ability to be connected. They just aren't.

For whatever reason, they don't get it...and I must confess that this means I don't entirely get them. (And by extension, they probably don't really get me either.) I'm not saying that there's anything wrong in this, but it's like people who don't read; I know they exist, and I can accept the difference, but it's a big thing that we don't have in common. And given the way the world is moving, the lack of online commonality and community is likely to be a bigger obstacle than the reader/non-reader divide has ever been.

What to do when Daddy's in jail?

The first time my X landed in jail, it was two days before the girls' birthday party (their bdays are 6 days apart), a party that he'd promised to attend. I had two choices: I could lie to the girls, tell them he couldn't make it which would make them question their own value if their father voluntarily did not attend, or I could tell them the truth.

After mulling it over, talking to friends, family and my own therapist (and wishing that someone had written a parenting book on the subject!), I opted for the truth.

They were turning 7 and 4 at the time. They were scared for him, they were sad, they were upset, and knowing the truth didn't stop them from looking for their dad every time the door opened at their party. Still, when caller id displayed "LA Prison" when he called them, I knew I'd done the right thing.

It was hard to explain check forgery to them...they didn't even understand the concept of checks at the time. It was easier to explain that they could go see a "feelings doctor."

Our Chanukah traditions: It's a wrap!

Note: The follow sequence happens every year.

On the first night of Chanukah, our house is a showpiece. Menorahs are displayed, gifts are piled high on the dining room table, the air is fragrant with the aroma of fresh latkes.  There are dreidels to play with and chocolate gelt to eat. My kids eye the pile of gorgeously wrapped presents with hungry, greedy glee. A virtual feeding frenzy ensues after the candles are lit and they can finally, finally get at those goodies! The bows go flying. It's a full body sport and sometimes there are injuries. Papercut? Shake it off!

Note: Normally my kids treat a papercut like a tragic and possibly fatal wound. But on Chanukah? it's just a well earned battle scar.

After the madness settles and we have located the bolt cutters to extricate the toys from their prison of plastic packaging and shackles of twist ties, the mess is breathtaking. What took hours to package, wrap, label, tie with bows, and stack lovingly on the dining room table took exactly six seconds to dismantle. Faster than frying a latke.

Think we can keep this up for 8 nights in a row? Not a chance. So it's no surprise on the second or third night, that you begin to see less elaborate wrapping jobs. Sometimes you even see a "redo" if, on the first night, some the paper came off in a large swathes without too much tape damage. Like perfectly shelled eggs. Grandparents and other elderly relatives, are great at pouncing on those remnants, knowing we'll want to use them again later. We snort and roll our eyes at their depression era thrift. And then by midweek we scrabble through the recycling bin for those scraps Mema preserved. We like trees. Chanukah wrapping is both hard to find and expensive.

Fertility Uncensored – What a mother will do to have a baby

Are you hiding your fertility problems? Wondering why it’s taking so long to get pregnant?  I know the realities of trying to have a baby and having to jump through fertility hoops. Every year at Christmas time it reminds me of my holiday hormone injections... 

I had no problems getting pregnant at 33 with our first son.  However, after trying to conceive for two years for a second child, we finally turned to a fertility specialist for help.  I had no apparent fertility issues, my husband and I were both tested and we just could not successfully get pregnant.  Clomid, a pill that creates an extra egg per month, didn’t work because I was over 35. So I opted for the big guns -- Daily hormone injections.  The first round of insemination failed.  A month later I bit the bullet and injected more hormones.  This second time it was a success.  I had a healthy bouncing baby boy.

However, where there’s joy there is often hardship.  I was the 5% of women who can get a serious side effect from hormone injections.  When you inject hormones your allowing your ovaries to create multiple eggs.  I had so many ripe eggs that my ovaries became enlarged. I looked like I was five months pregnant at 13 weeks.  It was painful and scary. 

The Magnet School Deadline

With the December 18th application deadline looming, a little less than a week remains before Los Angeles parents have to make a magnet school choice.  This choice is always stressful, and this year, most parents are feeling an extra sense of panic about the decision.  With rumors of either 5,000 or 8,000 expected layoffs in LAUSD, the elimination of all visual and performing arts programs, and who knows what else is going to go down, magnets increasingly seem like a last bastion of excellent education, and everyone wants in.

To add to the panic, this year's application deadline is almost a month earlier than last year's January date.  The change has had our family scrambling to visit campuses, talk to magnet coordinators, and fall in love with schools my kids will most likely get rejected by.

We're used to rejection.  For the past few years, we've applied and been rejected by Community Magnet.  If we apply there again, I don't see how this rejection cycle can possibly change.  Last year, Community Magnet had 2266 applications.  This year they'll probably get around the same number of applications  for 110 openings, many of which are in kindergarten.  My sons are going into second and fourth grade, so unless a bunch of kids decide to drop out of those grades, we're not getting in.

Los Angeles Rain vs. Deep-Seated Childhood Fear

Something woke me in the dead of night.  I opened my eyes, floating in that sleep/wake state in which one hovers upon the moment of waking, my eyes focused on the window.  I noted the pleasant sound of raindrops hitting the wide, flat banana tree leaves outside.  I bolted upright.

"Stewart, it's raining!" I stage-whispered as I shook my husband awake.  Rain in Los Angeles, catching us unawares, is cause for alarm.  He slowly, oh so slowly turned over and opened his eyes as I panicked.  "What did we leave in the backyard!?"

Crash! Boom! Bang!

My kids keep picking fights with large, inanimate objects, against which they have zero chance of  winning a fight. What to do, what to do? I wish I knew. Our pediatrician assures me this is normal behavior for almost two years old. That doesn’t stop me from worrying. My friend Jason was horrified to learn that my kids climb into the window sill. Of course they have to get onto and over a gym mat, a mattress and a couch to get there. But does that stop them? Nooooo! If they decide they want to reach something, they will stack up toys, boxes, whatever they can find, if they are unable to climb up on to do it. Jason asked me if I have 50 heart attacks a day. Close, Jason. Close.

I must say that the time period of being sleep deprived was difficult. I was tired but they weren’t mobile. Taking care of the triplets was by far easier than it is getting to be now. Today my daughter smacked her head twice and slammed a finger under a toy. The first head smack was so bad she immediately developed a one inch, purple and ever growing lump on her forehead. After the initial BOOM against the wall, the shrieking was enough to give me a headache. I carted her off to the doctor who is just five minutes from our house and had her checked out.  All good. Back home less than an hour later, she smacked the side of her head. In the very same wall spot as the first crash. More shrieking.

In the meantime, the boys are all over the place. One cannot yet walk, but is in a gait trainer and getting around quite nicely. When he is on the floor, he scoots pretty fast on his bottom using his feet to pull him.  I can barely keep up with making sure there are cushions behind him in case he falls over and smacks his head on the tile floor. More worry.

Cookie Exchange Angst

I have come to accept the fact that I am an imposter among my peers.  Everyone I know has their domestic lives firmly in order, meanwhile the only cleaning supplies I own are a bottle of windex and baby wipes.  I recently received an e-mail that sent me so far over the edge that I’ve begun to question who I really am and where I came from.  The e-mail subject: You are invited to a Cookie Exchange.  I’d never heard of such a thing.  Me, who has lived in several foreign countries, considers herself fairly hip to American Culture and was on Jeopardy!  Somehow the cookie exchange never made it into my consciousness.  The e-mail said simply: You are invited to a cookie exchange, bring three dozen cookies.  Must be homemade.  Great, I thought, I don’t even know what this is and I can’t buy my way out of it either.  Of course, I proceeded to Google “cookie exchange” and became even more confused.  Seems like there are all kinds of variations.  Bring cookies beautifully wrapped, bring the recipe, bring several copies of the recipe, bring an elegant tin to exchange with another participant.  Interestingly, no where does it really explain what your end result is?  Do you eat cookies at the exchange?  Or do you just exchange them?  If you bring three dozen, do you leave with three dozen?  Here’s where I’m really confused: What do I then do with the three dozen cookies?  Yes, I know, I could eat them.  I could give them away.  I could throw them away.  I want to know what people do with their cookie exchange cookies.  Do all my domestic goddess friends live in idyllic neighborhoods where carolers come by and you happen to have hot cocoa and your cookie exchange cookies all arranged on a Christmas Tree shaped plate?  The carolers finish belting out “Silver Bells”, yank off their mittens and then huddle in your elegantly appointed foyer sipping and munching?

I have so many questions.  The questions beget more questions and then I find myself calling friends who I think are “in the know”.  Each friend I have called does in fact know of cookie exchanges.  Yet, each one has given me different scenarios.  None can really answer my questions, such as: How large a container do I bring?  What if everyone else has large or odd shaped cookies and they don’t fit in my container?  I have cookie exchange anxiety.  The words “Cookie Exchange” peer back at me from my calendar.  It is scheduled for next week.  I don’t cook.  I don’t bake.  I don’t have flour in my house.  Clearly, it doesn’t appear likely that I will be participating in the exchange.  The obstacles in my way are too great.  Yet, I’m oddly intrigued.  I even feel left out in advance.  Secretly, I want to just go and see what it is and not have to participate.  Or, maybe a friend will be like, “Hey, Liz, you wanna take a dozen cookies?  I can’t possibly take three dozen home especially with Artie on Atkins and all.”  Maybe I can be an “alternate” at the cookie exchange?  Taking the unwanted dozens and half dozens from my friends and acquaintances.  How can I pitch that to the host?  Is that even appropriate?  I mean, I could offer to be an alternate cookie-taker and sign a release that I’m fully aware I may not get any cookies.  Right?  Is that being fun and creative or just being annoying and freaky?