Urban Mamas

This weekend, I had yet another experience with a family member in which my son's behavior was absolutely not tolerated... leading to the swift ending of our time together (yes, for the rest of my kids and me as well). I held back tears, just barely, in the moment while I got everyone ready to go as fast as humanly possible, feeling very much kicked out. OK: we were kicked out. There's no two ways about it. I kept wanting to cry for hours later, and would remember why only belatedly. This sticks with me.

I won't get into the details, but especially after passionately reading this article about how zero-tolerance policies have helped lead to our exploitative, cruel, racist and classist prison system -- and  after having suffered much painful familial isolation from a variety of in-laws and my own flesh and blood -- I have zero tolerance for zero tolerance policies. Even if behavior is intolerable, the people who deliver the behavior should be tolerated. Especially if we say we love them. (And why do people feel the need to say "I love you" while they're telling you they don't want be around you? Is that love? Isn't unconditional love... unconditional???)

I know many impartial observers might see this from a different light. But if a child -- or even an adult -- has a short outburst of socially unacceptable behavior following a period of sweetness, kindness and helpfulness, I feel that forgiveness and not "I will NOT allow that in my HOUSE get out now!" is in order. Honestly, I've seen a lot more patience to adult bad behavior than I have to my own child's; and this hurts deep, long and lasting. It's led me, at least, to evaluate my own responses to others' behavior, and to see the context and the intentions and the reasons first and put my foot down second (or never).

Is there anything you're zero tolerance about? Or have zero tolerance policies put your family and friends into black, hurting places? Do you think there is any place for zero tolerance in a loving social group?

I clicked on the link to a post about whether or not you should let your teen child's boyfriend or girlfriend sleep over expecting a point of view that was very much permissive agnostic (think: the parents caricatured by the media when most of us were teens) vs. strict values-based (think: Rick Santorum). But what I got was a very reasonable post I couldn't agree with more -- basically, that sexual activity is not caused or curtailed by letting two young people of the opposite sex in a room together. And we should spend a heck of a lot more time on our relationship with our child than on putting our foot down over proprieties handed down from our parents and their parents before them. (Peggy Sue Got Married was very much top-of-mind as I read.)

I think a point of view that wasn't very much present in conversations of 20 years ago was this one: well, what about the same-gender teens? Why can they sleep over? They could be having sex, too! And while it certainly doesn't have me rubbing my hands together planning how I'll cook breakfast together with my boys' girlfriends in seven or eight or 10 years, it does have me rethinking previously-held views about such things.

For now, I'd love to hear your thoughts on something that came up in the comments on that post: the time-honored "no closing your door," or, depending on the house design, "no going into the bedroom together" with a member of the opposite sex. In general, commenters agreed that it made for bad situations; those who were having sex were doing so in cars or other semi-public places, those who weren't still didn't feel welcome to hang out in a house with "surveillance." Is this a rule you've considered imposing on your children once they hit a certain age? Or is it already in place? I've made a sort of rule like this about a neighbor kid who comes over sometimes -- I need him where I can see him. It all comes down to trust, and I trust my oldest to tell me the truth about what's going on; I don't trust the neighbor kid (a certain experience with certain Google searches performed on my computer when I was washing the dishes...).

As Rebecca said when she posted the link, the part of the relationship you develop long before sex is an issue is what will, hopefully, be a much better deterrent from bad choices made behind closed doors or up on Mt. Tabor after the sun goes down on a hot August night (not that I'd know where a good spot might be) (no way not me). And that's more of this kind of thing. I hope, anyway!

I know my oldest has years to go before he hits the teen years, but I've felt for a while now that his behavioral struggles give me a window into who he will be as a teen -- he's got all the talking-back chops and punky authority questioning that any self-respecting teen boy would. Lucky me: I get to practice conversing with a teenager years before my time!

Sometimes I agonize over this (mostly when someone else is overhearing me and Everett in a tense debate over privileges and responsibilities, speckled tightly with the occasional bit of bad language). But thanks to some new research from the University of Virginia, I could just go ahead and embrace it. These debates with me now and in his teens will help him resist peer pressure among his friends and stand up to problems on the job. In other words, our arguments are lessons. According to NPR:

"[In the] study, 157 13-year-olds were videotaped describing their biggest disagreement with their parents. The most common arguments were over grades, chores, money and friends. The tape was then played for both parent and teen...

"[The researcher, Joseph P.] Allen interviewed the teens again at ages 15 and 16. "The teens who learned to be calm and confident and persuasive with their parents acted the same way when they were with their peers," he says. They were able to confidently disagree, saying 'no' when offered alcohol or drugs. In fact, they were 40 percent more likely to say 'no' than kids who didn't argue with their parents.

"For other kids, it was an entirely different story. "They would back down right away," says Allen, saying they felt it pointless to argue with their parents. This kind of passivity was taken directly into peer groups, where these teens were more likely to acquiesce when offered drugs or alcohol."

How you argue is important. If you "reward" children who develop a persuasive argument, bargaining thoughtfully instead of using begging, whining, threats or insults, you will teach them how to not just get along with other teens (and to stay clear of dangerous problems like drugs and binge drinking), but how to successfully manage relationships as an adult -- even and eventually, marriage.

I was, for once, proud of my parenting skills -- something I tell the boys every (sometimes many times a) day is to use their problem solving abilities to come up with a solution that doesn't involve physical aggression or anger. Now, this doesn't work very well between the boys many days, but I often see the persuasive kid show up for a really great and -- often -- even courteous! -- debate with me or another adult. And that's something to be proud of.

There surely was a real St. Nicholas, of course (who would have given very few of our children the things on their Christmas lists -- his assistance of the needy, the sick and the suffering probably wouldn't have included a Nerf Vortex Nitron or the Disney Fairies gift set), but what we have today is all myth. It's the myth that sits our children on his lap, telling him their deepest desires; it is the myth to whom they write letters and make lists; it's the myth that appears in 1,000 permutations on TV shows and movies this time of year. It's the myth that signs his name on packages under trees and fills the stockings (then turns with a jerk...). it's the myth that gives a darn whether or not your kids are "naughty."

I've always been non-committal about the myth of Santa. My parents, despite the religious background that would seem to conflict with the whole idea of an imaginary present-giver, still signed presents under the tree "from Santa" and perpetuated the idea of a guy sliding down the chimney with a big red bag. I remember, one year, writing a letter to Santa and burning it; the idea, that the ashes would float up to Santa in some sort of readable manner, sure didn't make any more sense to me at five than they do at 38. But, I believe it, willing to take a leap of faith if it meant good things like lacy dresses and baby dolls. By my third or fourth lost tooth, however, I was all skeptic; I asked my parents not to sneak in and leave money under my pillow, no matter what! When they acquiesced and, indeed, I woke up to a tooth still in its place, I remember a little disappointment but mostly relief that the world's logic was preserved. I don't remember it being cold or harsh or sad; just helpful. Now I know.

 With my kids, I offer the story like I do Zeus or Achilles or Noah: a story that no one can be 100% sure of. That some people believe, and others don't. The boys are welcome to believe if they like. Most of those guys dressed up on the street certainly aren't the real Santa. Might this one be? Perhaps. If they want to believe it.

Everett, who at eight renounced God, the tooth fairy, Santa and the Easter bunny as myths all (to my disappointment; I still believe in God), is a staunch non-believer, and not quiet about it. This does not affect his brothers' beliefs at all. On Peacock Lane, the boys confronted a Santa Claus together, and Everett informed the others this was a fake Santa. A little while later, with Everett's attention elsewhere, Monroe encountered another Santa. This? The real Santa, he decided, with no one to tell him incontrovertibly that it was not. Even later, as Monroe had not seen Everett evaluate the man (so as to gather evidence for his reality or lack thereof), he remained convinced the second Santa was the real one.

Tomorrow on Think Out Loud, a conversation about Santa and whether or not we tell our kids "the truth" will take place, and the intro to the post and an email about it had me shaking my head.  "Spoiler alert: If you're a Santa believer, you might want to stop reading right now." Really? If you're a Santa believer, even the presence of doubt in others has you disbelieving? This doesn't work for anything else -- take any religion, ever. Even climate change deniers find a way to discount all scientific evidence that works against their theory. Can a radio show shake a kid's faith?

Not in my opinion, especially if a beloved big brother can't even change your mind. The Santa secret is safe, and here's the thing: it was always safe in the minds and hearts of the true believers. Even, if for just a few more years.

I had already decided what to do when I posted my (I hoped) thought-provoking piece on "neglecting" my children to coach cross country -- for free! I've been volunteer coaching for several years, and even though my husband has just left for his second tour overseas, I spend all of my waking and sleeping hours with the boys save about 10 a week for cross country and Thursday night writer's group. I am comfortable with my decision; though some commenters pointed out that, with only one parent on the ground, I was depriving my boys, I have to disagree. The boys enjoy time with their babysitters, who frankly have lots more focus to give than I do. I struggle with being on duty 24/7; I end up so, so tired by Sunday evening that I can rarely stay up long enough to finish packing school lunch; the time away from the boys is life-giving. After a few charged discussions about it and chatting with some of the officers with whom he deployed, my husband agreed that my cross country time and babysitting expense was something we could afford.

OK: so that's my personal story. Let's chat about the universal. Today, a commenter chimed in about her experiences feeling resentful when her husband volunteered for basketball coaching. Another commenter said she, too, had felt frustrated at other dads doing similar things -- those that benefited other people's kids. While no one said quite this, the message is very much that dads don't have the time to spare. Any free time, the sentiment seems to be (and I can think of times I've thought this, from an outsider's perspective and not in my own family): dads need to give all available free time to their own children. Why should moms get a break?

I wonder if this sentiment stems from those 80's-sitcom-style family makeup: dad working 60-hour weeks, mom doing lots of volunteering at school and keeping the home spic-and-span and oven full of casseroles. This dad should not be leaving work early to coach middle school sports across town when he has grade schoolers watching He-man, neglected, at home.

I know a bunch of dads who volunteer, but I know way more moms and childless uncles who keep the youth sports machine churning and staff the fundraisers and political phone banks and non-profit events. Do we not give dads a break to follow their volunteer passions because we see them -- collectively -- as already spending enough time away from home? Is this a classic Freudian issue; those of us whose own dads were absent are the quickest to judge? Or is this just "the truth": dads should not, no how no way, be spending precious hours coaching or coding websites or organizing conferences or building bikes unless their own kids are being directly benefited? What do you think? Are dads and moms judged alike in their use/abuse of me time? Should they be?

For six years now, I've been volunteering as a high school coach at Cleveland High School. For the first two years, the head track coach coordinated some sort of honorarium for me -- a lot less than the salaried assistant coaches make (somewhere around $1,000 a month for roughly 20 hours a week of work, plus more for some weekend meets), but it was something! In the past few years, I've been coaching cross country, and the booster club hasn't seen it in their mission to bestow funds upon we running volunteers. I don't go every day -- last year it was only two or three days a week, because I was parenting my three boys solo and often didn't get home from school pickup until it was almost too late to catch the kids before they were off on their run.

My husband just left again last week for more overseas Army duty, and I have somehow wangled a great babysitter who can watch the boys for me -- I'll be able to go almost every day and meets too, and since the season only has six weeks left in it, I estimate it will cost me $500 or $600 in child care. Yes, to volunteer, for no pay whatsoever.

This has been a big point of contention for my husband. He has never been very supportive of my coaching; as an abstract thing, it seems great, but in reality he sees it as "ignoring my family" "for strangers." If I have to pay for the privilege? All the worse! We're locked in an unwinnable battle of wills. The way I see it: I'm giving back to the community that brought me into the running world (I ran track for Cleveland in the early 90s, and was nurtured by a wonderful woman, a mother herself, who even bought shoes for me when my cheerleading shoes gave me shin splints -- her son is a lead designer for Nike, so it was a bargain, but still!). I'm doing something I love -- working with high schoolers -- that I don't have the patience to do for a career (I would have gone into teaching if investment banking hadn't come along and stolen me; I have little patience, though, with school bureaucracy, and would likely have lasted this long as a public school teacher). I get to run four or five days a week; something I never do without the support of daily practice, and makes me happy, fit, and healthy. Most of all, I feel that I'm making a difference for these kids. Most of the coaches are men, and it's a co-ed sport; the girls tell me often that they appreciate my support and my conversation. It feels like the right thing to do and I always come home from practice and meets in a glow.

That glow does not extend to my husband's point of view on the matter: in his perspective, I'm leaving my children with a babysitter, spending family money unwisely, and neglecting my duty as their primary caregiver to do something that's benefiting other people's kids. Of course, I'm the parent on the ground, to use a militarism, and I get my way. But leaving aside the personal details of our argument, how do you negotiate this sort of balancing act? Is it ok (in your opinion and situation) to "neglect" your children if you're doing good work for the community -- volunteering for the neighborhood organization, the PTA, a blog that supports a needy community that perhaps doesn't directly help your children? How about support groups and church outreach? Political causes and extremely low-paid non-profit work? Co-operative projects and buying clubs and knitting circles? When you're doing something that doesn't directly, immediately benefit your own children, how do you suss out the justification for this benign "neglect"?

Now that my eldest is eight, my mother reminded me that next year he'll be old enough for his "9 year old Yaya trip." The idea being that my mother (yaya) and he would plan and take a trip together - a special place they agree on. It's a brilliant idea, really, that my mother gleaned from another friend of hers who is especially well versed in the art of grandparenting.

But wait... nobody asked me if *I* was ready. And wouldn't he get home-sick? Or at least family-sick? He's not been apart from us for more than a single night. Even then, he wasn't very far away (a short drive at the most!) My mother is also not local (although she's an extremely frequent visitor). I'm not sure if she is ready to host a journey solo with my eldest. They spend some time together but there's the awkward situation she would be put in if this trip were to happen. The awkward situation of her being the parental figure, if necessary.

There are two thoughts that keep nagging at me. First, I really don't want to burden her with my child. I know that sounds silly. After all, she's had lots of parental experience (and success - I hope!). I just feel like as a grandparent, she'd want to be more liberal in their relationship than a parent and child would be. So would she just assume the parental figure if things come down to that? Second, they haven't spent all that much time together. In the past, their personalities have gone head to head a few times. I have to admit, my eldest can challenge the limits of even the most patient types!

So I think that maybe we will wait. Until he is 10, perhaps, or 11. That way the experience will be a better one for both of them. The experience that my mother envisions them having. A growing and bonding time together that they will remember for their whole lives. Have any of you sent your children off with grandparents for grand adventures? Have you had any great successes (or great disasters) in trusting both your parents and children to go off on their adventures? Any advice you may have about making trips like this work is welcome!

Ever since having my third child, I've discarded my woozy free spirit self when it comes to bedtimes and mealtimes. I've cultivated, with great struggle and with mostly fabulous success (when I get it right), a predictable day in which waking up, breakfast, lunch, dinner and bed time come at more or less the same time each day. If I get it wrong -- don't put the three-year-old to sleep within an hour of his regular time, let the eight-year-old skip breakfast in favor of a big brunch -- the melt downs are spectacular.

Last weekend, I went to a conference in Montana -- a fantastic opportunity for which I was making enough money to pay for a new bicycle I'd been dreaming of. I was only going to be gone for two nights and my childless sister-in-law generously offered to spend the weekend with my three balls of energy. They had a great time; but I neglected to remind her that my boys will not fall asleep as long as you let them have a screen in front of their faces. There was a prodigious amount of sugar and schedule-zonking shenanigans. Monday was not fun for me, at all; it wasn't until late Tuesday after a rigorous regimen of whole grains and early bedtimes that I felt I had my kids back.

So: we were surprised Wednesday to find out that my husband would be returning from his year's tour of duty in Kuwait after 364 days, on Thursday night -- very, very late Thursday night. After a little deliberation, I decided to let his friend pick him up from the airport, and keep the boys at home, letting the oldest stay up until Daddy got home.

Monroe, the youngest, had a hard day and fell asleep at 8:30; Truman tried to stay up but fell asleep around 11 (I gave him the day off kindergarten today). Everett was awake until at least 2 a.m. They were all up at their regular time, today: 7:30, or thereabouts. I'm bracing myself for the fallout.

Obviously my situation is a bit unusual; it's not everyday mama or papa comes home from a year in the Middle East. But, when you've had a parental homecoming after much time away, even a week or two, that could really destroy your schedule -- and make the inevitably stressful re-entry even more stressful and potentially cripple your family's integration in the coming days or weeks -- how do you manage it? Do you think ahead and schedule flights that will come home during waking hours (not a choice for Army Reservists)? Do you do a big homecoming in the airport (/train station/driveway), or do you get the absent parent home solo and re-unite calmly? Do you preserve the bits of your life you can control to get ready for the chaos, or do you embrace it wholeheartedly?

My friend Michelle Stern was still pitching The Whole Family Cookbook when I met her face-to-face a year ago during the IACP conference in Portland. Once she closed the deal and started creating recipes, I did a little testing and, as you'd expect, lots of photograph-making in the process. Because her book is focused on cooking together with children, I wanted to get Everett and Truman and Monroe involved; and I was immediately surprised to see how much benefit we get from having them join in the cooking fun. [Note: Enter a giveaway for the book by commenting; details at the end of the post.]

Even months before we got the book, then, we were discovering how much healthier kids might eat if they just take a hand -- not just in cooking the food -- but in planning that cooking. I'd ask Everett which of a couple possible recipes to try, and we'd discuss whether a recipe had ingredients he'd like together. I was a little thrilled when he said one of the recipes we tried was too sweet for him -- and we made another variation on it that had honey and a small amount of sugar and that we all loved, adding a great sherbet recipe to our family repertoire. (The recipe that made it into the book is a delightfully tart buttermilk lemon sherbet, a winner indeed.)

Handing kids a cookbook with lots of pretty photos of healthy food and asking them, "find something for dinner tomorrow" is the best way I can think of to get them involved in this hardest parental job (filling their stomachs with good "growing food") and to make sure the hard work you put in to choosing sources and shopping and lugging the stuff home and cooking it all on demand pays off. Until, that is, they're old enough to do all the shopping and preparing on their own (I was particularly freed by the image of Rebecca's teens from last week's post making turkey sandwiches and sweet potatoes). I did that one night, and the next night, we had taco salad straight from Michelle's book (my recipe adds red cabbage to the onions for a little extra nutritional zing).

We have had a call previously for marriage therapists, but what about divorce therapists?  Would the specialists of the former be specialists of the latter?

An urbanMama recently emailed:

My partner and I are divorcing, and I would like to find a therapist who has experience with helping divorcing/divorced women through this tremendously painful time. Would it be possible for you to post a call for suggestions in NE or SE Portland?

Also, does anyone have suggestions about support groups for divorcing/divorced women in PDX?

I know many mamas have struggled to conceive.  I have been so lucky in that regard.  Our first came a complete surprise.  I know there are many families who only have one child, for environmental reasons.  Our second was planned, conceived at what felt like a "good time" for us after we talked about our "thoughts on number two".  Before we could even talk about our "thoughts on number three", we conceived.  To be sure, each of our families are different.  We make our own choices and decisions.  We have the size of a family that is right for us.

So for me, right now, I am feeling like I am pining for another.  Number Three is now a year and a half, such a delight.  I never did feel that I had the time or opportunity to experience this longing, this deep sense of want, this intense draw to become a mother to a young child, yet again.   To be sure, this feeling is the result of my joy in mothering a toddler (I just LOVE this age) as well as knowing that he is probably my last.  Yes, "probably" my last.

Have you had that yearning for a baby feeling?  Did you put it to rest?  Did you conceive or decide to adopt to address the yearning?  Or maybe time helped ease the feeling?  Or perhaps that longing still percolates, to this day?

Many evenings, while I get dinner onto the table, my partner is relagated to toddler- and child-management.  I bustle around in that very stressful pre-dinner hour, and I often hear squealing and giggles coming from the other room, surely the result of my husband nuzzling his head into the toddler's tummy.  More squeals come from the other kids, playing around with their dad little brother.

Not every household has two parents, but - for those that do - each of the two parents often settle into roles.  For me, thanks to my efficiency and love for edible arts, it is my role to mange the kitchen.  My partner, then, has the role of managing things outside the kitchen - in this case - the kids.  In other cases, I often still take on the role of primary caretaker, tending to the basic needs of my family such as laundering, kitchen inventory, handling the calendar.  It wears on me, while many times I find my partner takes on the role of playmate, sports coach, tickle monster.  To be honest: I get jealous.  To be honest: I sometimes get bitter.

To be sure, I can challenge the roles, start a mission to lowly change them.  But, who has the time?  Right now, I do feel that efficiency trumps, and I am indeed the Mistress of Multitasking.  My skill set is better suited for the caretaking and nurturing tasks.  I just want to know I'm not alone.  Does it happen in your house too?  Is there a primary caretaker, and does the secondary caretaker get all the fun jobs?  And, dare I ask: have you managed to swap roles here and there?  Has it worked well?

Halfway through my memoir class this morning, I got a phone call from an unfamiliar number. Not school, at least, I thought, only to answer the phone to hear the 'hello' of my sister, Hannah. "Truman's school called," she said. "He's really sick and needs to be picked up." Luckily, I was relatively close to school -- only 2.5 miles away -- and headed out, making apologies to the other students and myself. Yet another sickness (strep throat, this time) has hit the kinders.

My two local sisters are the emergency contacts on just about every form I complete: they're nearby, they're usually easy to reach, I know they'd be there for me in an emergency. Of course, in a really non-emergency like this -- a coughing kid who has to be taken home -- it would be crazy to ask them to leave work, driving three times as far as I have to bike to pick up my children (and then what?). Hannah has two little girls, one an infant who recently underwent heart surgery; Abby is pregnant. Both are teachers and it would be a real hardship to leave class suddenly in the middle of the day, not to mention, I don't want to expose them to my kids' kindergarten germs.

Unless it is really an emergency, then, the emergency contacts are just there to help get in touch with me -- and sometimes I feel a bit panicked about how little backup there is. My closest friends have jobs and kids of their own; I'd hardly want to add their names to the form. Their own provide enough in the way of emergencies. And I'm relatively lucky: I have my sisters both within a 25-minute drive, my parents just an hour away. I have to wonder about the many mamas I know whose families are unavailable, either across the continent, or gone physically or emotionally from their lives.

Do you, too, ever roll your eyes at those emergency contact lines and think, --I'm all they've got if you want to be honest about it. --Good luck with that. --Let's just keep my cell phone batteries juiced and call it a day? Do you ever panic about it? Or have you found a creative solution, made your own community, or put a nanny or other paid caregiver on the form?

I was idly browsing my Facebook page in between dishwashing jags when I saw the familiar-but-ironic little heart next to one of my relative's status updates. "___ is single," it read. Though I've always considered her a favorite family member, we don't spend much time together outside of Facebook, and I only met her husband once or twice; I had no idea things were rocky between them, and now his absence at more recent family gatherings looms large.

Only the latest in a recent spate of relationship status changes, it seems to be the vogue among friends and family and people I barely know to "like" such declarations of independence. I've seen situations in which the singleness was quickly reversed (a regreted overly-public blowup after a bitter, alcohol-fueled argument perhaps?) and these make the "liking" even more piercing than it is, in the most straightforward of situations. I can't find myself to "like" anyone's singleness, even if the relationship was especially tortured and obviously a bad one from the start. It seems too much schadenfreude, even if the one on the other end of the sudden singleness was terribly unkind to someone you love.

My relative's status was liked by someone else I like and whose judgment I respect, and I think the generally-accepted Facebook subtext for this is, "the marriage was bad for you." But, as with so many Facebook singles recently, little children resulted from this star-crossed entanglement. I know a bit of what it's like to be a single parent (though all my single-ness is temporary); I know what it's like to have a marriage-with-kids that is rocky. As is often the case with my rawly-single Facebook friends, I want to reach out. I want to act in support of this fellow mama, when things are obviously hard.

But: I never know what to say. I don't want to "like" it, I don't know if public comment under the status update is a better or far worse option. (And what, then, if there's a reverse?) It's so easy to get Facebook grant you a permanent separation. It's a lot harder, slower and more tortuous to do so legally; if one wishes to celebrate singleness, I think to myself, the end of that process is the time to do it.

I know lots of mamas who read this blog have gone single on Facebook, and have gone through the months- or years-long legal process following that social media break. I know others who have watched friends go through it, or go through the up-and-down of argument, separation, reunion, separation, divorce. What is the best approach? Speak publicly now, email, phone, pray?  Or simply wait until... what? If you've liked, or been liked, in situations like this: what resulted? What advice do you have, now?

I grew up near a lot of extended family - aunts, uncles, dozens of cousins, grandparents, and more.  I loved it, it felt full always.  There were plenty of celebrations to choose from, and lots of opportunity for food and gift.

Many of us no longer live in the same vicinity as our families of origin.  What sorts of new traditions have you started with your own families?  An urbanMama recently emailed:

My husband and I both grew up celebrating the holidays with a large extended family, but we've both moved away from home and find ourselves with our little family of four.  We are both used to the loud, boisterous crowds, and it feels sort of weird with just our small crew.  We're looking for new traditions to start with our own family, but haven't found any that feel quite right.   Any thoughts?

When my mother pushed me out into this world, my father was immediately disappointed.  He wanted a boy.  He was so sad that he left the hospital even before my mother made it to her room from the labor and delivery ward.  He wouldn't come back for another day, leaving his own wife - and mother to his firstborn - alone in her first moments of motherhood.

When my first child was born, we didn't "find out" beforehand.  She was born a lovely girl.  All were thrilled.  When we had our mid-term ultrasound with our second child, we asked to find the gender. We were told, "it's a girl!" and the announcement was met with the question, "are you sure?" from my husband.  And, when our third child was born (and we opted again not to "find out" gender), the words from our moms (who were both in the delivery room for each of our births!) "it's a boy!" brought sheer joy and utter bliss to my husband.

A friend expecting her second child is having another boy.  She confessed to me, "I really wanted a girl."  Another mama with all boys has said, "I'd have another if I was sure it was a girl."  Or, when we recently found out good friends were carrying a baby boy after having had two older girls, we were thrilled.

To be sure, we git what we git and we don't have a fit.  We are happy our children are, for so many of us, born healthy without complications.  And, even with complications, we love our children dearly.

But, whether it's a boy or a girl: does it really matter?  How did you feel when you found out "it's a boy/girl!"?

As I type this, I'm waiting to hear if my husband's airplane is landing right now-this-minute, or if he's still hours or days away. We've been waiting for him to come home on leave from Kuwait -- where he's been the last five months with the Army Reserves -- since Sunday, when he left. I told my boys that it was all up in the air, but then he called Monday night with a flight number and time. So, we expect him Tuesday night...

A few hours before his flight was (I thought) arriving, he got on Facebook chat with me (internet was way cheaper than phones), from Germany. OK, so, not Tuesday night. Wednesday? No, he was on "lockdown" for 12 hours. Thursday? Probably?

Now I have to go pick the boys up in a few minutes, and maybe I'll have something to tell them (we're headed to the airport!), maybe I'll just have to say, "who knows?" Though this is an extreme situation, for sure, I know I'm not the only one who has to deal with a partner who's often making last-minute changes in availability -- work travel, sudden flight changes (voluntary or not so much), having to work late or entertain friends/clients/family unexpectedly. How do you help your kids expect the unknown? Is it fair to say, "we'll never know until he walks through the door?" Or is it better to let them in a little bit on your own emotional roller coaster (not to torture them, but so they'll at least be able to understand why you're on edge)?

Right now, my best coping mechanism could generously be called "comfort" and critically be called "junk": Kettle Chips, coffee shop treats, and Burgerville drivethrough. I've been saving that good dinner (flat iron steaks, roasted cauliflower, mashed potatoes) for three days now... I think it's time to start cooking. I think my heart is telling me I should stick to a schedule and let the schedule-afflicted partner join in if he or she can... but that's a hard thing for this mama to do. What do you think?

I am going solo tonight, which is not an unusual occurrence.  What it means is that I get very short with the kids: mildly scolding, maybe yelling at them to finish their dinner, do homework, tidy lunch bags, brush their teeth, get into bed.  Without fail, there are special requests: can you lie down with me? can you get me my bag that I left outside? can you help me with this (when they full well can do it on their own)?  When I reach my point of saturation, I explode.

"Can you just do it on your own so I can go and have my dinner in peace?  I have been going nonstop since we stepped foot in the door, making your dinner, asking you to put away your clothes, helping you get your homework done, doing chores.  You need to go to bed now, so that I can eat dinner in quiet."

Growing up, my parents, my religion, and my culture taught me to be ever-conscious about my body.  There were so many constraints to my dress, so many restrictions on what was appropriate, so many opportunities to feel bad for being exposed.  Our household is very liberal about the kids and whether they want to be fully clothed.  We, the adults, are no different here.  We're clothing-lite.  I often sleep unclothed.  I wake up and greet the kids "good morning" even before I get dressed.  The other week, a friend spent the night, and I tucked the kids in with no pants on.  I don't often walk around topless, but I very often walk around pant-less.  For some reason, it only recently occurred to me: Should I be more modest when other kids are over?  Should I have a top and bottom on?  Should I close the door when I potty (as this is another thing we are all very liberal about in this household)?

We all know that parents are not perfect.  I really do strive to parent to the best of my ability, but there are times I do yell and scream, and sometimes I do the grip and shake.  This weekend, there was another family visiting with us, and I admire them so much.  These two parents are each working full-time, each in their own separate careers in social justice and nonprofit work.  They are passionate about their work.  Add to that, they have three children, one of whom shares a home with his other parent.  Add to that still, they have an immense social network, and they are found almost any given night canvassing the community, facilitating community conversations, outreaching in parts of the city where information is least likely to touch, phone-banking.  It amazes me to track them each on Facebook and hear about the issues, groups, and causes they actively support.  I am so thankful for this couple - despite being parents with three children aged 2 to 10- they are able to support one another in their various endeavors to allow them to be such meaningful, vital members of our Portland community at large.

I know there are no "perfect parents", but there are parents out there that we admire, respect, and want to embody, all to the fullest.  We all have our own priorities and will admire, respect, and want to embody different qualities in other parents.  In the bath this morning, I thought to myself, what do I respect most in other parents?  What qualities would I love to embody as a parent?

Over a period of a few weeks this May, Everett kept insisting his legs were full of pain alternating between dull and shooting. It had started a day or two after the time on the playground in which he'd gotten into a conflict with some older kids. As far as I can figure out, he was the victim, and a righteous one, too; he'd been protecting another, littler child, and ended up with a nasty scrape and bruise on his knee. I expressed what I thought was appropriate solicitation and pride; for once, he seemed to have handled a really unfair situation without retaliating with fury.

But now, it was weeks later, and he'd run up and down stairs and then protest in screaming pain when I tried to get him to ride his bike, or walk somewhere with me. Even riding on the back of my bike, he said, was too much. Finally I made an appointment for the next afternoon at the doctor's office, worried that there was some real ailment -- a bone marrow problem, maybe? -- I wasn't giving its due.

The day of the appointment, he couldn't get going to school; if he was to stay home, I told him, he'd have to ride his own bike on a series of errands I'd planned. By appointment time, we were on mile #11 and he was fine. As I've gone through a lot with Everett, who's now eight, and his outsized reactions to the sort of things many children would find only mildly upsetting, I only added it to my mental portrait of his challenges and let it be.

Then, this weekend, we got a question from a mama we know. Her younger son struggled with a potentially fatal illness when he was a toddler, and recently gave his family another confidence-shaking scare, until test results came back, indicating that he was indeed fine. The whole family had talked about their fears together, but it was very stressful. Now, she's worried about her older child.

My nine-year-old son has recently started seriously overreacting when he gets hurt. I have taken him to the ER twice recently thinking if he's screaming so badly perhaps he does have broken fingers or dislocated shoulder (two separate incidents). Nothing is ever diagnosed. He's always fine and the trauma is completely over two hours later. These type of incidents have been increasing lately.

I am wondering if his overreacting might be a result from the stress at home over the last few weeks. I am also wondering if he's trying desperately to get more attention from me even though this summer we have been spending most days together and I am available, physically, emotionally. I am here for him.

My question for other mamas is, is this something I should seek professional advice for; should I look into a few sessions with a child therapist? Or, will he just grow out of this? Could it just be a phase?

The email that came from the baby daddy read: "has no ever taken a ten-month old away from his/her mom for 48 hours?"  He was responding to my resistance to agreeing to let him take our babe away for the weekend when he goes solo to see his family.

Here's a secret: I don't think I can do it.  With the two that came before, it was 2.5 years before I had a night away from them.  And, the first night away coincided with the weaning effort both times.  This definitely will not be a weaning effort, only a time away from mama, one-on-one time with dad.  But, I don't know.  I don't want to.  Maybe I am clinging too much to my babe, not wanting to be apart for two days.  Not to mention: how am I supposed to make enough milk for the 48-hour separation?  They would leave at 10pm on Friday and I have just a few days to pump!

I would love to hear stories about your first nights away from your babes.  When?  How old?  How long?  How did you fare?

One Saturday morning last summer, I hurried the family to get ready for a birthday party.  The celebrant was a friend / classmate of one of my girls.  My daughter was so excited: there would be a clown!  It was a 10am start time, I do recall.  So, I was diligent about getting my Saturday morning chores out of the way in quick order so she could be at the party on time.  We knocked on the door - my husband, my two daughters, and I - and waited.  It was a protracted pause.

The celebrant - along with her mother and her father - opened up the door.  They were in their pajamas.  The house smelled of pancakes.  The girl had those big stuffed animal slippers on.

"Oh no!" said the mother.  "The party is next week!"

They offered niceties and even welcomed us in.  The welcomed us into their home, into their Saturday morning private time in pajamas!  I mumbled apology after apology.  In the steps leaving the house, I fought to hold back tears.  I felt so dejected, so inept, so disorganized, and so discombobulated.  My husband and my girls couldn't understand how I could have messed up the day.

Well, they probably couldn't understand because they actually have little to do with keeping our family calendar up-to-date and accounted for.  In our two working-parent household with two children who have varied social needs, not to mention varied academic needs, it is so hard to keep it all straight.  When are lunch order forms due?  When are books due at the library?  When are parent-teacher conferences?  When are NO SCHOOL days and where will the kids be?  And HOW much will it cost?   And, why are kid 1's NO SCHOOL days never the same as kid 2's NO SCHOOL days?  And, when do we have time for the doctor or dentist?  And, who will be taking time off work to take him/her to the doctor/dentist?  And, which kid has a birthday party when?  And when/what/where will we get for a gift?  And who has a late meeting on what day?  And - wait a minute - we BOTH have a late meeting on THAT day?  Then, what happens to the kids?

For certain, our family schedule is complicated by the fact that each parent works outside the home, late hours, and has some element of travel.  However, I just heard from another mama friend - a stay at home mama - who lamented that her daughter missed two birthday parties recently because she botched up the calendar and completely forgot about them due to other activites.  I do believe that calendaring complications can straddle mamas in different situations.

We have a paper calendar on the fridge, we have a dry-erase calendar where we write in all the highlights of the week, and we (my husband and I) have our respective outlook calendars that include our work schedules.  Still, it is ever so complicated and there are things that slip through the cracks.

How do you keep it all straight?  What is your no-fail method?  How do you keep the scheduling organized and everyone appraised of what is happening when?

I was alone for several hours yesterday at home with Monroe, who's two-and-a-half, and contemplating my plans for next year in the backdrop of a book I have been reading, the fascinating and inspiriting Radical Homemakers: Reclaiming Domesticity from a Consumer Culture by Shannon Hayes. Truman was out on an errand with daddy and I was finding it impossible (as usual) to do any writing. Monroe, needing attention in the absence of his brotherly playmate, wanted to sit on my lap and punch keys on my keyboard. My choices: give him the iPod touch with its monkey games, put on a TV show, or do something with him.

I've made it my personal mission not to use screen time unless I'm truly desperate, and I wasn't, so we went outside and planted more peas and some lettuce and kohlrabi. He dug in the dirt and helped me sprinkle kelp meal until he got bored of it and decided it was time to go for a walk. As close to traffic as possible. Inside again then! I spent the rest of my "free" time making us a snack, wondering, how will I ever manage to entertain this child and get just a little bit of writing in each day, next year with Truman in kindergarten? And the next? Truman has always been the sort of child who can play by himself for hours, without heading for the street, and this littlest man in our family is demanding enormous levels of interaction.

Enter the radical homemakers, those who, according to Hayes, "are pursuing homemaking as a vocation for saving family, community, and the planet." I'd just been in the part in Chapter Five where Hayes describes the way these radical homemakers "redefine wealth and poverty," in her section beginning, "Child care is not a fixed cost." In other words, how can you redefine the way your home economy works so that you do not need to pay another person to care for your child? I was tracking -- this is exactly what I've tried to do with my own family, freelance writing from home when it became clear that, more than anything else, my kids needed me, a lot. One of her interviewees had her daughter in day care for a while and she says, "I noticed that in day care, what she learned was to be entertained. Out of day care, she had boredom. And when she had boredom, she got creative and she thought of things to do, and went outside and climbed the tree..." In contrast, all the activities and scheduling at day care had her wired on the expectation that someone else was supposed to give her that play structure she needed. "I don't think that's necessarily a good thing," the mother concludes.

This gives me hope: it occurred to me that the expectation of a sibling to play with could be a balm that, once it was less of a sure thing, Monroe could learn to work around. I'd love to hear stories from those of you who aspire to a simple and less structured life: once all the older siblings were in school, did your youngest adapt to life just with you -- and let you get a little bit of time to focus on whatever else you and your household needed?

When a child is to expect a new baby in the family, it can be a very transitional experience.  There are many ways that we, their parents, can help the older siblings welcome new baby into the world, perhaps by helping the elders to make a gift for baby?  An urbanMama recently emailed:

Wondering if any mama's out there came up with any creative genius ideas for gifts for a second or third baby from an older sibling.  Did any of your kids help you make/find/create a gift for the new baby as one more way to process and bond with the idea.   Could be a tactile crafty project, or any combination of smaller projects or any other for that matter.  We do a lot of talking about it, coloring in our "new baby coming" coloring book, other activities like this.  But I was thinking it would be nice if my son had some actual physical item (particularly if he feels some satisfaction from making it himself) to make for the baby, give the baby, and even wrap up for the baby while we are at the birth center.  I am due in late June so it could also be a seasonal related gift, but not necessary. 

After a week of actually having to get all three boys together and out the door in the morning (Everett's been going to school via bus for the past two-and-a-half years, and I've been working, more or less, at home), I've finally grudgingly acknowledged the truth of the matter: for me, it's a whole hour between the moment I get out of bed and the moment we're on the bikes in the driveway (or sidewalk, if we're walking or taking Trimet). I thought back to the old days when I used to work in an office, and only had Everett to get ready, and sure enough: it was the exact same truth. Doesn't matter how bad the weather is, what sort of conveyance we're planning, what I make for breakfast (or if we decide to stop for a treat on the way), if I try to pack getting ready into anything less than an hour, I end up stressed, pushing boys past their limits, and inevitably, 10 or 15 minutes late.

So today, we were a few minutes early to school! What a pleasure. As I coasted down the hill toward home, feeling satisfied, I reminded myself how pushing my snooze button is only making my job as a mama way, way harder. So, I wondered, how about the rest of you? What's your morning truth? Is it an hour for you, more or less, or do you have some amazing skills (or extra needs) that make your mornings special-in-your-own-way? What throws you off? What gets you streamlined?

My heart hurts, and my stomach: a few minutes ago, I yelled at Everett. He's seven-and-a-half, and as his dad has been away for the past two weeks doing Army duty -- he'll be away again later this month, and then, in May, he'll be mobilized to serve in Iraq for more than a year -- I'm asking the oldest boy to be far more responsible than I probably should. I know how this goes; I, too, am the oldest child of a large family, and distinctly remember feeling so infused with the responsibility of my first-born role, before I even started kindergarten I'd have nightmares in which I was the only one who could save my whole family from a house fire, an out-of-control car.

I'd been struggling with Monroe, who had dumped a quarter-cup of vanilla into the cookies, and was wailing when I wouldn't let him swipe enormous finger-fulls of butter, maple syrup, and oh, that vanilla. He was holding his arm and crying, "owe, owe, OWE!" -- I'd "hurt" him by holding his arm back from the bowl after five illicit tastes. Everett could help, I knew it: he's great with his little brother and I often look to him to fill in with patience when I've lost it.

But Everett was deep in a farm game on the iPod, and wasn't having any of this man-of-the-house baloney. I ordered him off, or else; he ran upstairs in tears. There I was: spreading my ill-patience around to the rest of the family instead of healing it. I took my breaths, set Monroe in front of the left-behind iPod, and went to apologize. But, honestly, my apology wasn't that great. I had to tell him, look, kid: when I am losing my temper and need your help, there's no one else. You have to be my go-to guy. For years.

While I work on controlling my temper, I also have this weighty question hanging heavy in the air like the scent of caramelizing vanilla: how do I temper the duty burden I'm sure to be yoking on Everett's shoulders for years to come? Where do I strike the balance between the trust and reliability I know he's earned, on one hand; and his very real needs for emotional development on the other? Have others here juggled this, whether because of being a single parent, or having a partner who frequently travels, or works very long hours? I'd love to hear your stories.

[And oh yes: the cookies turned out great. Way too much vanilla was just right.]

This email comes in at the very moment my husband is trolling craigslist and online furniture stores, considering upgrading our queen-sized bed to a king-sized one.  Many mornings, there are four bodies in the bed: myself, my husband, our six-year old, and our four-month old.  It is a super-cozy situation, but it just may be too snug.

An urbanMama recently emailed, thinking proactively, about how her bed may also soon be occupied
by four bodies.  Both she & I would love to hear your thoughts:

I have a 3 1/2 year old that we recently transitioned (mostly) to her own bed.  She starts the night in her bed and comes into our bed at some point in the night - sometimes before midnight, other times not until it's nearly time to rise and shine.  We don't consider this a problem - we've never been fans of forced solo-sleeping.  The issue is I'm pregnant with #2.  We'd like to co-sleep with the second child, but are concerned about our daughter coming into the bed and it being too crowded or her rolling over onto the new baby.  I'd love to know how other co-sleeping families have dealt with this.  Do we have to make a choice between the two?  Are there other, more creative ways to continue to co-sleep as our family grows?

Many of us have in-laws, step-parents or aunts and uncles with whom we never wish to speak again. A lot of this never needs to be discussed with our children until they are much older. But sometimes, the relationship is so close and seems that it should be such a normal part of your children's life story that it continues to surface -- even though your children are too young and the subject still too raw for you to address it evenly. What do you do? A. asks:

I have been estranged from my father for just over 10 years. He sexually abused me when I was a child, and needless to say I don't want to have him in my or my children's lives. What I really could use, is some advice on how to approach the subject of my father with my children. Tonight my daughter (who is 4 1/2) asked my who my daddy is.

That sent me into a panic. I stammered, he was a daddy, and promptly changed the subject. I don't want to say something like "he wasn't very nice to me so I don't talk to him anymore" because I worry that my daughter will make a connection that if she's ever not very nice to me than I may not talk to her anymore.

Any thoughts you wise mamas have would be very much appreciated, for both short term (what do I say now about my dad in my past/present, and why there's only grandma on Mommy's side and no grandpa) and long term ideas (like should I actually tell my kids the details one day? How old should they be? when they are young adults themselves??)

There are mamas and papas among us who have chosen to have just one child.  On the other hand, there are mamas and papas among us who have just one child, and not by choice.  Have you shared this experience?

I'm hoping you can help me connect with local mamas who are mamas to only children but not by choice.  I am very blessed & grateful to have a healthy son - but my husband does not want any more children. It took us awhile to conceive our son and I am so THANKFUL to have a healthy child - but I am in difficult place when it comes to not being able to even try to conceive another child. I don't want to be resentful - would like to connect with others who are or have experienced this.

Yesterday, a Twitter friend was kvetching about the Christmas gift given by her brother to her young boys: a Leapster video game "made and marketed by Satan's helpers." I could relate, as my brothers-in-law (both sides of the family) have made themselves famous in the house for their extremely loud, blinking-lights, electronic gifts, often given with the best of intentions: they're marketed as "educational" toys, after all. There was the Barney monstrosity with the alphabet buttons and the voice I couldn't even recognize, except that it was enough to drive me out of my head. There was the toy I like to think of as "baby's first TV," a little scrolling translucent screen with 80s-style plastic doodads that prompted different "soundtracks," targeted at one-year-olds (really, toy companies?).  There was the Transformers helmet found at the bins that changed everyone's voice into an Autobot's voice, loudly (not educational, but surely delightful for boys).

This year, it's the Nerf guns, everyone's favorite toy, right? I watch my two-year-old walk upstairs with a gun on his shoulder, looking for all the world like Matt Damon's character in a movie with lots and lots of shooting. Except littler, and barefoot.

I've slowly banished most of the loud toys from the house, but sometimes you just have to let a kid play with the dearly beloved terror. And there is no shortage of over-priced, enormous, loud toys, the manufacture of which must have the carbon footprint of a cross-country drive in an SUV, the marketing of which is surely delight at "spending time together" as you watch your child "learn" by pushing buttons and listening to the resulting cacaphony. Toy companies make a lot of money from aunts, uncles, and a goodly portion of parents who have bought the marketing pitch hook, line and C batteries. I think the best approach is education: not of our kids, but of other adults out there who are paying for the stuff in the first place. So tell me: how can we spread the word that the best education is a puzzle, a book, a crayon, a pebble, a ball, a stick (even if it's in the shape of a gun) and some quiet(ish) face time with your son, daughter, niece, nephew, granddaughter, godson? The sound of the toy companies' marketing is deafening.

It's not Norman Rockwell any more, says the blog post introducing today's local radio hour, Think Out Loud. "In 2008 half as many people got divorced as got married in Oregon — leaving many children switching from mom's house to dad's at some point during their celebration. It means some families welcome their ex's new partner to dinner. It means family, and family scheduling, gets more complicated," it goes on.

Today's show is particularly appropriate for many of us, and dovetails nicely with some of our recent discussions. Topics of conversation included balancing Judaism and Christianity; relationships between adoptive parents and a birth family; Christmas for separated parents and divorced parents; and forging new traditions in non-traditional families. Comments from regular urbanMama contributor nopomama were included in the discussion, and single mama Jennie 7 joined the conversation with some thoughts on negotiating the holidays after her recent divorce.

"When does something you do, become a tradition?" asked the host, and this is sort of obvious (when you do it more than once, probably) but it's a nice way to open the conversation about our own traditions, new and old. What conventional and unconventional customs are your family, Rockwellian or no, doing this year? What would you like to do?

[Think Out Loud's "Family Time" show repeats tonight at 9 p.m. on OPB, 91.5 FM]

With a super-tight budget and plenty of holiday stress, I often leave the decision about what to get for daddy until the very last minute, and I've thus far been terrible about insisting the kids come up with gifts for their parents. I realize that, last year, my husband and I really didn't get each other anything. Now it's two days before Christmas, and though I really want to buy him the gift I know he needs: a new (to him) commuter bike, I really don't have the room in my budget. As I troll craigslist, beg for help on Twitter, and wheel and deal, I wonder: have your gifts for the other parent in your life fallen by the wayside since you had children? Who do you spend more money (or time) on? How about you? Do your children and partner get you plenty of gifts for Christmas, or do you end up watching your kids open their presents with a bittersweet mix of happiness (for them) and nostalgia (for the time when you had more to expect on Christmas morning)?

We have before talked about how to approach separation while still remaining engaged co-parents.  We have yet to seek your recommendations for a divorce attorney, however.  An urbanMama recently emails:

I am in need of finding a really good divorce attorney.  I tried to settle this nicely, but my ex is threatening me financially and emotionally, therefore I feel like I need solid representation.  I know this community is an invaluable resource and I'm hoping on finding information from others who have gone through this experience and if anything can recommend a helpful and strong attorney.

Introducing a new parent figure into a child's life is a big step that many of us has been through.  An urbanMama recently emailed, seeking your experience and perspective:

I have a 3 1/2 year old daughter.  I have been separated from her father since she was 15 months old. Since that time he has had NO interaction or contact with his daughter. We have no legal statements of custody (legally, I believe this means that we have joint custody. All of his parental rights are intact.) He has had NO visitation, pays NO child support. He and I do not even speak; not because we are uncivil but because when we separated we separated completely. 

I have recently met the man whom I believe I am going to marry. We have talked about him adopting my daughter.  Does anyone know anything about the adoption requirements in the state of Oregon? I am assuming that my daughter's father will have to sign adoption papers if we wish for my current boyfriend to legally adopt my daughter.

More importantly, has anyone had experience with integrating a father figure into a young child's life? My daughter has never known a father, although she has recently begun to ask things like "Where's my dad?" and "Why don't I have a dad?" as she has started to interact with friends who have both a mother and a father.  I'd love to hear anyone's story, advice, opinion, etc about introducing a father figure into her life at this age.  I have no intention of expecting her to call this new person "Dad".  He and I both feel that if that day comes, wonderful but that is something we will let her come to on her own terms. But how do you EXPLAIN the role of father if and when she asks if this person is her dad?  I believe in being honest and fair with her. I'd like to be able to answer her questions as honestly and as safely, in terms of her development, as I can. I know I don't have all the answers. So, I'd love any support or advice anyone has to share. Book recommendations are always appreciated! :-)

It is a hard-fought title, but Monroe wins. At age two, he's clearly risen above the bar previously set quite high by his now-seven-year-old brother, Everett. Oh, I have seen bad temper tantrums. But never quite like this.

Twenty minutes ago, his dad and big brother drove off in great-great-uncle's car to help the in-laws move. He wanted to go with them, and the answer was a non-negotiable "no." In a few seconds he went from the happiest smiliest toddler in the back seat of a car (where he'd hopefully climbed to hang out with his most beloved big brother) to a screaming, kicking, destructive ball of mad. Before I could grab him, he tore up a couple of handfuls of clover (thankfully, easier to pull than the pumpkin and watermelon vines a few inches away). He screamed. He stomped on the strawberry plants. He looked at me. "NO, NO, NOOOOOO!" was all he could say.

I have a strategy now, which is mostly to talk calmly with him (not that he can hear anything I say over his screams) and, as gently as possible, hold his arms against his body so he can't hit me (he's hurt me plenty of times) or grab anything to throw in anger. It's hard to hold a screaming child for that long, and it's also hard to watch the stares of passers-by, so I brought him inside after five minutes. Distracting him doesn't work. Sometimes, I can get him to nurse away the mads: not this time. I brought him in and he wiggled away from me, to scream and kick for the next 15 minutes on the floor between the couch and the wall. I tried a favorite toy. I tried to offer him a pillow. No dice.

I went to my computer to wait it out, when the friend who helps with our yard came in. "I can't work with all this screaming!" he said. "Can I try?" "Good luck," I said resignedly. I'd tried everything I could imagine.

Monroe calmed down almost immediately, tearfully going outside to walk around the block with Matt. I guess it was just me to whom he was responding with such frantic anger. But... I won't always have another adult to intervene. Prevention is great, but today (and many times, I'm sure, in the future) I had no idea the temptation of a car would intersect with his big-brother-and-calming-influence leaving. When you're faced with unavoidable tantrum-stimulating situations, how do you disconnect the child from his anger? How do you cope? How do you get other children to stay out of the fray? (Truman always picks these times to decide he's "frustrated" with Monroe's proximity to the wall, or something.) And long-term strategies would be nice, too: how do you teach a two-year-old barely verbal child to calm himself when his anger carries him away?

I don't think any of my kids were fond of the car seat in the early stages of life. One of our readers recently had a falling out with a family member over letting a her child ride on her lap.  She wants your advice and writes:

I know that many of us mamas have found ourselves in a situation where our child is inconsolably upset in the car seat, screaming, crying, kicking and even to the point of puking at times.  Just writing about it and remembering my first child’s sheer hatred of the car seat makes my skin crawl.  Despite those tortuous feelings, I never considered removing my son from his seat while the car was moving.  Recently I had relatives visiting and to my shock and horror, when their one year old son became upset, his Mom simply unbuckled him and seated him on her lap.  I found myself in a moral dilemma about whether to speak out about what I saw as an extremely unsafe choice, knowing it could have huge implications for our relationship, or just ignore it.  In the end I tried to gently inquire about my safety concern and it unleashed a fury of emotion, resulting in an abrupt end to the visit and a huge rift in our relationship.  After all that I’m not convinced that my speaking out will have any impact on their future car seat decisions and we’re no longer on speaking terms because of it.  Was it worth it?  I’d like to think so, but I’m not sure.  What would you have done?

On Mother's Day, I scored a few hours alone to go to the farmer's market, and as I wandered around shopping on my own, I watched other pregnant women and women who looked vaguely mama-ish, wondering: would we rather be with our kids, or alone, on this day that celebrates us? I already missed my kids, especially on this day, when having them along would prove that I was one of the laud-ees. (Why I need to prove that, I can't explain.) I decided I'd rather be around them, and hurried home to hang out with my sweet boys and eat market goodies.

Today is Father's Day, and someone on my Twitter stream was musing about whether she or her husband deserved the day off; June 21 is her birthday. I immediately thought, neither, isn't celebrating with family what these days are all about? but held my tongue (or fingers); maybe she just meant "day off of cleaning the dishes."

Another dad I follow, though, said he thought Father's Day was a day for dads to spend with their kids. I began to reflect that it's far more common to give mom a day alone on her day, whereas it's more common to have dad+kid activities on dad's day. Given the long experience in our culture of domestic/career divisions with its conventionally-assumed distribution:mom's making breakfast and folding laundry, dad's putting on his tie and readying for a commute; these days have traditionally sought to change that dynamic for 24 hours.

But in our progressive 21st century culture, the facts have changed... right? Dad's doing laundry, mom's often commuting, but most of us still spend Mother's and Father's Days the same as when we called our parents "mother" and "father" (at least on TV). How is it in your house? Does dad celebrate by going on kid-tastic adventures, or does he go out and hang with his daddy friends? Or is it a big family barbecue -- and does dad man the grill or sit back and drink rootbeer floats (my own dad's fave)?

For the record: today, we're making one of my husband's favorite breakfasts, huevos rancheros burritos, and later we'll all be going on what I think is the best Pedalpalooza ride of all: the Unimproved Ride Road. How about you?

I did not have the intended response to the front-page article in the 'O' section of today's Oregonian. The writer meant for me to be sympathetic with the plight of the family depicted; two parents in what seemed a loving, functional marriage with two children under four. I think it was the way the writer approached the story, obvious scrabbling to paint a sad picture of a family left exhausted and strung out, juggling two jobs and only one car.

While I can relate to the stress of the enormous, far-too-dear cost of child care for young children, I came away from the article wishing to share my perspective as a mama of three boys, having drastically changed my work schedule in the past year; though I fear the chasm between the ways we look at life is great. The two parents are working alternate schedules; mom at Costco, dad in sales at a construction and industrial supply company. They pay for only about nine hours of day care a week, or $480 a month, and together make $64,000. They live in a two-bedroom, 800 square foot apartment somewhere in Tigard. No, their schedule doesn't allow for matinees, pedicures, or post-work beer with the guys. Yes, they're "trapped" with one parent, and the car, at work when it rains. The fun for the kids, according to the article: a walk to a toy store, cartoons on 'On Demand,' the shopping mall play area. [The article's writer explained the day she followed the family, it was raining, so they decided not to go to the park; there are parks close by, though the original article wasn't clear on that fact.]

I wish I could fix it for them. What's obvious at first is that we all need a better link to community; to friends who can share childcare providers or swap care for free; to people who can provide that post-work beer experience with the kids; to occasional potluck dinners so each night doesn't seem so harried and lonely. My life today is not perfect (far, far, far!) but thanks to my perspective I can see a number of choices that are worth re-thinking. The sidewalk-less suburb is just one; I know that prices don't vary much from the middle of my neighborhood in inner SE Portland to Tigard, giving the parents far more places to connect and allowing mom & dad to get rid of the car altogether, choosing Tri-Met or the bike for commuting. Then maybe one parent can quit or reduce hours, relieving the pressure and the exhaustion considerably. Harriet calls this concept "householding," and I'm a big fan. (After hearing from the writer who wrote the story, I deleted my comment about food.)

Instead of sitting here frustrated at how isolating, stressful and perhaps more expensive than necessary are the lives we're asked to sympathize with in the Sunday paper, I'll make a challenge. [And judging from the age of the photo illustrating this post, it's a challenge I need badly.] I'll make it easy, because frankly, sharing child care is enormous thing to think about on such a beautiful day. Invite someone over for a potluck dinner -- or invite yourself to their place, if they have more room to set plates and cups. Connect in a simple, relaxed and nonmaterial way. Spend as little money as possible; yes, a carrot and lentil chili and a big salad, with water or homemade iced tea to drink, is perfect. Skip the cartoons and toy stores. Talk about the best place in your neighborhood for nature walks. Make it a regular thing. Start the change small, and see what happens.

My husband and I were watching a Discovery Channel show on the science of reproduction a few days ago; the show posited that humans are more likely to look for a new mate after their first child grows old enough for one parent to raise him alone. "Well then!" I said. "I guess we're fine." We have three children, after all. We laughed, but given our often-tense relationship, it was through a lens of concern. Not only are we occasionally very un-fine, but many of our close friends have been through separations and divorce in the past few years, and the prospect of raising a child alone -- or as part of an awkward parental tag-team -- is too familiar.

Another urbanMama emailed me yesterday to say she, too, was in the painful process of separation and divorce. It's easy to see everyone else through your lens, and think, oh, they're fine! They don't have my problems. The marriage wasn't fine, and now she's just looking for advice and wisdom. While I sympathize, I haven't been in her shoes, so I'm hoping some of you, who have, can lend your stories to her.

Sometimes I have a hard time believing that I came from my parents.  Could it be possible that our approaches could be so different?

We limit sugar in our family.  It just makes sense.  The sugar makes little people go bonkers until wee hours of the night.  We aren't a no-sugar household, just a moderated-sugar household.  When it comes to screen time, we use it on occassion, but not all the time.

When the grandparents whisk into town, it seems that the kids are always clutching a bag of gummis or a sucker.  It seems that there's always the background noise of "kung fu panda" or "nikelodeon".  We have had words with grandparents, asking them not to give the kids candy or plop them in front of a screen all day, but it lands on deaf ears.  It must be their age.

Do we just pretend we don't see our kids discolored tongues from the daily lollipops?  Do we pretend we can't see the unending glare of the TV screen?  How do you handle how grandparents handle your kids if it differs from your approach?

NPR's Marketplace is looking to talk to Portland families:

For young families with kids the traditional narrative would be moving from the city to the suburbs for the good schools and space.  The question I’m posing is whether there’s a growing shift away from that as the suburban life proves too isolating, uneconomic (energy prices) and environmentally unsustainable? 

And do cities like Portland offer an alternative middle ground?  Not only drawing single urban hipsters but young families as well.  Ideally I would be looking for a family with children in the 3-6 year old range who have recently moved or are in the process of moving to Portland to pursue this dream.  I’d also be interested in hearing the story of a family who did move to the suburbs but is now moving back to the city after becoming disillusioned.

Details on Activistas.

We have a 2.5 yo son, and we are expecting another baby in a few weeks.  Our son is gentle and sweet and sensitive. I can see his concern with my expanding belly, and what that means for him.  I would appreciate some advice on how to help our son prepare for his new little sister.  Especially, we are looking for resources that will help provide reassurance.

We are a two-child household and both of our kids have shared a room since the little one moved out of our bed at around 8 or 9 months of age.  It wasn't an easy transition, necessarily, with one child sleeping before the other, then with frequent middle-of-the-night awakenings.  Still, we love that they share a room, even if we do have a third room we could've used for another kid's room.  The sweetness of hearing the two (now aged 5 and 8) chat before going to bed or after just waking up is precious, as is the lessons of learning to get along in a pretty small living space.  An urbanMama wants to hear about your experiences in transitioning two siblings to sleep together:

I was wondering if I could ask for advice from the urbanMamas community about moving my 4 year old daughter and 2 year old son in to the same room, possibly into the same queen sized bed that my daughter has slept in since she was born.  I was thinking about adding a twin bed to the room, so they could sleep together (since they are big snugglers) or apart depending on their mood.  Plus a parent could sleep comfortably with them during the transition.  Right now my 4 year old daughter is in her room, and I’m with her (trying to night-wean my son) and my husband is in our king sized bed with our 2 year old son.  So we’ve started a transition of some sort, but are at a stand still about the next step.
 
Neither are great sleepers, but I think we could all adjust to it....maybe.  I’d at least like to try it.  Getting them to fall asleep would be the tricky part, esp. if they are so tired they are trying to hit/kick each other or don’t want to share the parent or bed.  Right now, we stay with them individually until they fall asleep (too traumatic for all involved to do otherwise).  We do have 3 bedrooms, but I hate to give up the computer room that also lets them watch the occasional dvd, an area for them to color, I can call about bills late at night or grocery shop on-line, plus it is the only room in the house with decent daylight where we can hang out.  My husband wants to move them each into their own room, but I feel like my sanity is at stake, since the computer room is crucial to my connections outside of the house, late at night when everyone else is asleep.  Has anyone else been in a similar situation?  Did you decide to have siblings share a room?  Did you decide to give them each their own?  Any advice would be most welcome! 

Last night, a domestic squabble ensued in our household, involving raised voices, angry tones, and some swear words for emphasis.  One of us was hanging laundry, the other was handling kitchen duties.  The kids were nearby, and quickly came to our assistance at the thought that it may help diffuse the situation.

When I was a child, I heard some pretty terrible verbal jousts between my parents.  Many times, it brought me to tears myself.  Sometimes, even, it brought me to my knees in prayer, hoping that they would soon work it out and return to their playful, loving selves.

Arguments are a reality.  How and whether we expose the kids to these tense moments could be a different story.  I'm curious: do you fight in front of the kids?  Are you careful and certain to only discourse in private?  If the kids have caught you in the crossfire, how have they reacted?  Have you discussed and explained the arguments with them?

For some of us mamas and papas, there are reasons why adopting a child was the only option to expand our families.  For others of us, we have had the opportunity to make the choice: to try to bear a child naturally or to adopt.  An urbanMama recently emailed with her dilemma:

I'm hoping to find some other mamas out there who may have had a similar decision to make.  My husband and I have a child of toddler age and are in the discussion phase of more children.  We both have a calling to adopt a child - not sure why...neither of us were adopted - but have different ideas about it.  As a woman who had a great pregnancy and very much enjoyed the birth/baby process (even though it was difficult) I always thought I'd have another child naturally so was thinking we could adopt a third child.  My husband is pretty adamant that he only wants 2 children and is happy with either adopting the 2nd child or having another on our own.  Basically this decision falls to me and I'm really struggling with it.  (We would adopt from India as my husband is of Indian heritage and we obviously have a strong family connection there.)  I would love to hear from anyone who may have this same situation - if there is anyone else out there.

Have you had to decide between adopting or natural childbirth?

For those of us whose kids have two parents, there is Parent #1 and Parent #2.  If we are Parent #1, we do not even need to be in a relationship with Parent #2, beyond the relationship of co-parenting.  Still, there is #1, and there is #2.

In my world, Parent #1 is the one charged with the duties and responsibilities - keeping kids on schedule, dressed, fed and seeminly clean; leading kids in mind-stimulating activities; engaging in thought-provoking conversation to make them into those compassionate human beings we are all destined to rear.  But, the crux of the Parent #1 realm is the boring stuff like chores.  Yuck.

In my world, Parent #2 is the one charged with brightening the room upon entering.  Parent #2 is the novelty parent, the one who is showered with hugs and kisses once home, leaving Parent #1 toiling in the kitchen or tidying up after the brood who has just gone to shower Parent #2 with affection.

Y'all know what I'm talking about, right?  Or, is my world just this super-traditional and conservative one, where the stereotypical gender dynamics of the '50s still play strong undertones.  If your child(ren) has two parents, is there one boring, task-oriented parent while there is one fun, less task-oriented parent?

I loved reading about Senator-Vice-President-Elect Joe Biden's impending move to Washington, D.C. in today's New York Times. What struck me first was that, though he's been working in the Senate for 36 years, he's never become a "fixture" in the Washington social scene: mostly because he's been rushing home to his wife and kids in Delaware. This has seriously impacted his political career, probably leading to failure in his own presidential campaigns.

What's more, he's certainly going to bring his 91-year-old mother to Washington, meaning that both the presidential and vice-presidential families will have three generations living together (President-elect Obama's mother-in-law is planning to move to the White House, too).

Many things about these family dynamics thrill me; one, that Biden's choices (to let career come after family) are more attractive examples for American managers and workers than those of Republican Vice Presidential nominee Sarah Palin.  Two, in light of our recent conversation about multi-generational living, it demonstrates uncommonly functional family relationships on the part of both Biden and Obama. I admit that, at first, my opinions of Biden were mostly those of the guy who made a bunch of awkward, minorly offensive statements; and now I'm starting to believe that he was chosen for his unusual values -- values best illuminated by the many quiet choices he's made as a father/husband/son. Having these ethics in the executive branch gives me hope (even if "hope" is becoming a cliche) and makes me feel more secure about our future. What do you think?

It may seem that we all live in nuclear families (parent(s) and the(ir) child(ren)), but much of my extended family still lives a couple of generations deep.  We also know of friends here who have transitioned to having a parent live with them and their children.  An urbanMama wants to hear from your experiences with multigenerational living:

My mom has recently found herself in a predicament. The man she has been with for the last 7 years has decided to up and move to the philippines. This leaves her in a home she can't afford, not to mention a very sad heart.  Because we do not own our own home, my mom has asked me, my husband, my 4 year old, and 2 year old to move into her 1800 sq ft. home.  I love my mom, and lived with her on and off after college.  I am just worried my boys are going to drive her crazy.  She works evenings, and my husband works days, so we actually will still have private family time.  But I am a stay at home mom, so the boys and I will be there all the time. I am just wondering if any other families out there are living with, or have lived with (not so old) parents?  How has it worked out, and if they have any advice for a slightly hesitant mama....

A few weeks ago, when we finally switched out summer clothes for fall clothes, I realized that there were piles of new clothes that have gone unworn.  For why?

Although the giftor, friends & family from all over, may think the fitted rugby shirt or the striped sweater is cute, the giftee, my picky little girl(s), may not agree.  So, the items go unworn.  I feel like it's such a waste.  Not all gifts come with gift receipts, and I just chuck these remains into boxes that will end up at Goodwill, consigment stores, or clothing drives.

I know I am among the privileged to have these "problems", to have gifts oozing at my children at the stroke of the holiday season.  Still: With the holiday season upon us and with family who believes in showering our children with gifts (boy we are lucky!), how are we to tactfully suggest things they may like?  Have you ever put together a "wish list" that you circulate to your family?  Can we send out holiday cards with a note "no gifts, please!"?  Should we somehow suggest contributions to their 529 plans?