The summer after our son was born, our little family would spend weekends at the market selling my husband’s hand crafted jewelry at the open air market that ringed the old building on two sides. The babe would sleep in a sling while his parents manned the tables, old folding tables my grandparents gave us with cloth drapes my grandmother had sewn, herself. My parents would come down to give us a break or take the little guy for a stroll. We got to know many of the craftspeople at the market that summer, and several of them gave us small pieces of original art for the baby’s room.

My son and I walk to Eastern Market every Saturday morning to do our shopping, selecting fresh, local produce from the many farmers who back their vans up to the red brick walks. The past few weekends I’ve been delighted to find strawberries so ripe, and so inexpensive, that we’ve had to invite friends over that evening to share them. My son walked with confidence among the bins, selecting leeks and potatoes for home made soup, shoveling fresh greens into a plastic bag, picking out the best apples and pears. We’d buy fresh pressed apple cider, a loaf of home made bread, and stop by the cheese counter for a sliver of something delicious. My son learned something about farmers and the earth, about a simple way of life, and well, we got some exercise.

I don’t know what to do, when he asks to go to Eastern Market on Saturday. Do we go look at what happened? Do I just tell him? Do we go to another open air market instead? There are some good ones. They just aren’t Eastern Market.

There are some great images on flickr that give you a taste of what wonderful traditions have been lost.

Post from: Blisstree

Some things that never breathed were once alive, and we mourn their passing: Eastern Market

My son’s room is clean. The living room is neat. The kitchen is nice enough to cook in, and I’ve got laundry in the dryer. By contrast, my clothes are piled up on the bed, I’ve eaten dinner standing up five nights running, and I need a hair cut, a manicure, a pedicure, an annual checkup and a dermatologist. Honestly, I don’t know when I’ll get around to taking care of me. I know, we’re supposed to help ourselves first, and then take care of the passengers of life around us, but honestly? I can’t do it. I’m just not programmed that way. My gym card is growing dusty in my wallet while my backside is growing wider.

Do you take care of yourself, mom? Do you mother the mother, or do you neglect her?

I hope you’re taking care of yourselves out there. I’m going to take a long, soothing bath with something that smells good.

Post from: Blisstree

when do moms get to come first?

It’s hard to be sensitive about the fact that not everyone wants to talk about kids, just as I don’t want to listen to a blow by blow reenactment of someone’s cat’s derring do’s. I’m glad there has been a baby boom at the office, because that does give me a pretty broad base of folks I can gush to every once in a while. What amuses me to no end is the fact that nearly all of them are fathers, not mothers. I love watching their faces light up when they talk about their kids, and recount their toddler’s antics when we share the lunch counter at noon. I want to sit the guy down who leaves right at quitting time every evening to get home to his wife and twins–does he feel the glass ceiling that women have traditionally felt? I wonder.

We didn’t do bring your kid to work day this year. A very extroverted four, my child just can’t sit quietly and color while I work. He has to help. He has to be involved. I remember when I used to have to bring him along to business meetings every once in a while, when he was just three years old. It was so funny! He’d sit on the couch or the chair, his little legs dangling, a crayon in one hand and a pad of paper in the other, while his mama discussed an ad campaign with the creative director. Every once in a while, we’d here this little voice pipe up: “Yup! Uh huh! Ow, wow, sure!” as he followed along and interjected his own professional opinion.

I wonder if I’ll bring him to the office next year. At least there are old printouts of floorplans laying around everywhere. He’ll have something important to color!

Post from: Blisstree

I talk about my kid too much

When I was a kid, I couldn’t stand the stinky stuff. But my son loves it. And the secret is … smash.

We steam it til it’s tender, but doesn’t smell like an overboiled head of cabbage, and then puree it with butter and salt and pepper. He’s never been a fan of smashed potatoes and I try not to eat so many carbs these days, so smash it is!

It’s a lovely way to get some more veggies into your kids. Try it!

Post from: Blisstree

Smash–cauliflower, that is

Apparently J, a smart, sweet, well-liked member of the three year old class, is a bit of a klepto. He steals. And it’s not just a matter of, “Oh, isn’t that cute, he doesn’t want to let go of that toy, he wants to take it home”. Nope, this kid goes through purses. When he’s caught, he laughs and says it doesn’t matter: “I’m just a kid. They don’t put kids in jail.”

Ahem. Officer Friendly, a retired police officer who volunteers at the school, came in to make a presentation to J about the dangers of stealing and behaving in a manner that is harmful to society. Suffice to say, all the kids were rather impressed, and I do believe even J has learned to keep his sticky fingers to himself.

But could you imagine? A four year old who already believes himself to be above the law, in a city where too many of our youth are running in gangs, running drugs, or just running wild? Oh my.

Thank you, Officer Friendly.

Tags: honesty, theft, stealing, lying, kids, motherhood, mothering, mommy

Post from: Blisstree

One of my kid’s classmates got sent to jail the other day

The child’s knees are so damaged by his weight that he is going to have to undergo surgery. At issue is where the surgery will take place, with the mother arguing that it should be done closer to her home.

Is this fair? Is this right? Is this the act of a caring government, or is it Big Brother watching over you? To what extent do we really have the right to live, or mess up, our own lives? The Onion published a parody piece a few weeks ago about how parents are messing up children’s lives by not letting them watch too much television, etc. Funny stuf, but what if your belief of what is best for your child contradicts what the government believes is best? What about the girl taken into custody in Germany for being homeschooled, which is illegal in that country? Or mandatory HPV vaccinations for girls under the age of 18?

What do you think?

Post from: Blisstree

Is obesity a reason to lose your child?

So I put together a few suggestions I learned from my positive parenting books. My son has been the biter, hitter, kicker — and the bitee, and recipient of all other forms of childish out bursts, too.

I can say I’d much rather my son be the recipient than the one who dishes it out, mostly because I don’t freak out about this kind of stuff, and am always worried about another parent’s reaction to what is a ‘normal’ phase of toddler behavior. I say this, with caveats, having watched a kid punch mine in the stomach recently — and was shocked, until his mom and I figured out why it happened and it was all good.

Hell’s bells, I wish I could throw a temper tantrum sometimes, too.

No child is ‘too young’ to learn what proper behavior is all about. For toddlers, proper modeling, redirection, and constant vigilance are the keys. Children do not know how to control their impulses at this young age; a parent or caregiver must act as an external conscience. If a child acts out against another one, the adult in the situation should do several things:

Intervene. “Oh, my, little one, we use gentle touch with other people.” Pick up the child’s hand and stroke it. “Gentle Gentle!”

Offer empathy for the child who was hit/bit: “I’m sure she’s sad now, what can we do to make her feel better.” And then pat the place the child was hurt. Blow on it. Make a big deal of cleaning up the wound (especially if it’s a bite or a scratch) and putting a bandage on. Offer the offender the chance to make things better. Don’t force an apology, but you can voice one for the offender, saying, ‘I’m sure [hitter] is sad she did that to you/sorry she did that” etc. Remember, a toddler isn’t necessarily sorry she did it!

Offer a distraction, such as another toy, or separate the children for a while. Offer sympathy for the child who was wronged, and talk about how to make things right.

My four year old knows better than to be mean to other children, especially smaller ones. He’s often patting and hugging the smallest kids on the playground, and takes it upon himself to be their champion — sometimes to the point where he’s being rude to the older children! Sigh.

But that playground boy’s mother was doing him absolutely no favors by making excuses for him and not taking the opportunity to teach kindness. If a child hears “Oh, he’s too young for that”, if a child’s parent does not model proper behavior, if a parent does not teach his or her child what appropriate behavior is, and ignores it, dismisses it, or denies it…

what message is that parent teaching the child, but that it doesn’t matter how you treat other people, because there will always be an excuse?

Post from: Blisstree

A conversation about biter/bitee etiquette

Do you have a breakfast tray? Incredibly handy things, they are. I didn’t get breakfast in bed often, but we used it for our Friday night Movie Night, when the whole family would pile into bed to watch a flick. And they make the perfect table for toddlers learning to draw. just the right height. Nowadays, I  wish I had one so I could put  my laptop on it while I work in bed into the  wee hours. Amazing, how times have changed.

Post from: Blisstree

Want Chef Emeril to make you breakfast in bed, Mom?

So as your old bulbs burn out, think about switching them out. CFL’s save energy, last longer, and burn cooler. It’s a win-win solution to pollution.

thus endeth the lesson for the day.

Post from: Blisstree

Earth Day: a little more light

I hope you threw away your schedules today. We set out to have a Day. Nothing much to do. Went for a walk. Went to a birthday party. Stopped at the park. Admired the flowers.

We overschedule our lives, and I found myself guilty of it this winter. Today was a perfectly lazy day.  Our children need time to just do nothing. How else will their brains recharge? Remember to schedule in time for nothing to do. You’d be surprised by how useful and productive that do-nothing time is!

Post from: Blisstree

I hope you threw the Palm out the window today