Archive | June, 2009

When Co-Parenting Works

30 Jun

holdinghandsWhen I was first getting a divorce, it was both of our intention that things be as friendly as possible. And at first, we were. We were polite and cordial to each other, having read all the books that said the same thing over and over: DO NOT BADMOUTH THE OTHER PARENT TO THE KIDS. Even the courts have a standardized speech that is given at the beginning of the session where the judge talks about parents who are wasting their time and money and the courts time over petty bullcrap that really results in hurt feelings that each party wants vindicated through stuff. And the only people getting hurt? The children. We were adamant that this would not be us. If my car broke down, I could call him and he would help. If the kids weren’t behaving for him, he could talk to me and I would give him advice. We tried. We really, really tried. But feelings got in the way, anger ensued, and we failed at what we started out trying to do and ended up in a nasty battle that left all of us broken.

I have a friend who is going through his own divorce. And looking at all sides of it, it should be really nasty. But you know what? It isn’t. They are only a year into it and they still talk about each other with warmth and care. To listen to him talk about his ex-wife is like listening to him talk about a friend. They go to their son’s games and recitals together, they still meet once a week to do the bills together, and they split all costs and responsibilities down the middle. They are adamant in putting their son first, and a big part of that depends on them getting along and making this transition as easy as possible for their son. And the amazing thing is that they have both moved on with other people, and yet they still maintain a friendship between them. I have never heard this man badmouth his ex-wife, to me or his girlfriend, or to his son. And while I don’t know his ex-wife, judging by the ease of this process, I am willing to bet she has maintained the same composure. Sure, there are hard times. There is hurt, and anger, and sadness over a marriage that failed to meet both of their expectations. But there is also an understanding that there is more to this story than them. And as a result, they have a son who is sure of himself and happy, and is not carrying the weight of their decision on his shoulders.

This is what it looks like when co-parenting works.

I moved into the condo I am living in now just about 2 years ago. A week after I moved in, I got a new next door neighbor. With him came a sweet little girl around the age of 7, and three older teenage boys. The house was always full of life from the sounds of kids bounding up and down the stairs and skateboarding in front of our homes. Occasionally we would hang out on warm nights, it being too hot to stay inside the stuffy houses. And he told me that the boys were not his sons. His ex-wife lived just several condos down the way, and the boys would spend time equally at his house and at hers. Their biological father wasn’t really around much, and in the time that my neighbor had been married, he had filled the father role for these boys. They still called him dad. And never once did he complain about the amount of food they were consuming or the increase in housework from their presence, or even over the fact that he had to rent a larger place just to accommodate a bunch of boys that weren’t even his. To him, they were his. Even though he had divorced their mother, even though he and their mother had only been married a short time in retrospect, these boys were his. And nobody could take that away from him. On some nights she would even go over to his condo just to catch up and touch base, talking about the children and then moving on to their own personal lives. She confided in me once that she had a hard time keeping relationships because the men she dated could not understand how an ex-marriage could still produce a friendship.

“Truth is, we make better friends now than we did when we were married,” she told me. “And I’m not willing to give that up.”

And she shouldn’t have to. It would be wonderful if all divorces could end up that friendly, where the past is left in the past and where they have control over the positive nature of their future. It would be wonderful if marriages that are dissolving still held on to that union where the kids they once made in love still felt that love from both sides, and never felt pressured to choose who they were loyal to.

It has been five years since my marriage ended. In those five years there have been some serious downsides as we made mistake after mistake. And over the last two years, the two of us have worked furiously at righting those wrongs and getting back to the path of loving our children together even as we lead separate lives. And for the most part, we have succeeded in just that. We can now have conversations about the kids without straying to topics that are off limits. We can compare notes and support each other in our parenting when issues come up. We can stay in each other’s presence for longer periods of time, and can even laugh with each other. Do we ever fail? Of course. We’re human. There are times when our ideas are so different and we just want the other person to back down. But we have learned that it is better to end the conversation and come back to it later rather than keep at it till things get ugly.

In some instances, like in my friend’s case, co-parenting doesn’t work. If the father, or the mother, is not willing to stick around and put their child first, or if the situation is so volatile that the child is being put in more harm than anything else, co-parenting is not the answer. It is then that it is best if there is only one parent to raise that child. It is far better than forcing a situation where the child will end up feeling torn and confused, and grow up insecure and feeling unloved and forgotten. My friend’s decision has allowed her daughter to become very confident and independent, and there is no question that she feels loved.

But it is very true that a child deserves two parents, and that it is best when a divorced couple can put aside their differences to give their child just that. A child of divorce is still a part of these two people, and should never be separated from that bond. The very best decision a former couple can make is to actively continue working at co-parenting their children. In the end, it will give everyone peace of mind.

When Co-Parenting Fails

28 Jun

duckI have a friend who has a 4 year old that was the product of a fling gone wrong. Upon finding out that she was pregnant she realized that he would not be a good father for her daughter, but that she wanted to go through with the pregnancy. She gave him the option of stepping out of her life, and never having to support this child one bit. In return, he was to agree to stay out of her child’s life as well. He took the offer and ran.

My friend’s daughter does not know that her real father exists. Someday she’ll know. But at 4 years old, she knows my friend’s fiancé as her father, a wonderful man who stepped into the daddy role, and who is every bit her father. This little girl has a mommy who made the best decision she could for her, and a daddy who loves her as if she really were his daughter.

And my friend? She has raised her daughter with one set of rules. She does not have someone looking over her shoulder telling her she’s doing it wrong. And she doesn’t have to worry about if she really is doing it all wrong.  She doesn’t have to confer with someone else over the big decisions in her child’s life, or worry about what the other parent might be telling her child when she’s not around. She doesn’t have to fool herself into believing a child support check is going to come when she needs it most, or have resentment when it doesn’t come and her child’s daycare bill is still due. She doesn’t have to play the “nice game”, or feel like a failure when nice is no longer a word that can be used to describe the resentments that explode in a single phone call. She doesn’t have to stress over things being done in an entirely different manner than she is comfortable with. She doesn’t have to hear excuse after excuse after excuse about why her child’s father can’t follow through on promises, and how she is less of a person because she doesn’t understand his position. She doesn’t have to plead her case, how she’s had to appear like a duck gliding on the water while paddling furiously underneath. She doesn’t have to force herself to bite her tongue as she mentally recalls all of the struggles she has had to go through to put her child first. And she doesn’t have to hear his multiple excuses about why he CAN’T put his child first. The fact of the matter is, she doesn’t have to talk to him at all. She doesn’t have to expect anything from him. She doesn’t have to rely on him. She doesn’t have to be disappointed by him, nor does she have to comfort her child when she is left with feelings of hurt and anger and sorrow over being let down. Again. 

And it’s been hard doing it on her own.  I know there were many nights when her daughter was young and they were on their own when she wondered if they would make it, and shed tears over her plight as a single mom without someone to lean on. And I’m certain there is anger over her child’s biological father who is still out there, being daddy now to other kids he has made and is raising.  But still, while there are times when I can’t imagine trading places with her struggle, or fathoming her strength to let him walk away from the two of them….

….sometimes I think my friend is the luckiest person in the world.

Videogames

26 Jun

videogames

My name is Crissi, and I am the mother of a video game junkie.

It’s true. During the school year I limit it to weekends only. The weekend started on Fridays after we got home from school and work, and ended at 9 pm on Sundays. I always swore I’d give him time limits, but I admit it, I never did. He would wake up at 8 am on the dot to start playing. I would not let him play any earlier in favor of my sleep. If I didn’t limit that, without exaggeration he’d be up at 5 am to start playing. And if I let him, he would happily play all day long, pausing only long enough to take a bathroom break or eat. I would even have to remind my usually healthy eater that he needed to stop and eat something, usually when he’d be reduced to tears over a hard part in the game because his blood sugar was getting low.

Take the video games away from him, and I would suddenly be around the Tasmanian Devil! He became a boy going through serious withdrawal. The first day is always the hardest. His anger is through the roof, and he’ll go through bouts of yelling and crying, and then yelling some more. After that it gets a little easier, but he counts down the days till he can have the games back. I can take away any of his toys and his reaction doesn’t even touch the video game reaction. Even his skateboards, his second most prized possession, only produce a few tears. But the video games, that is the magic item that cuts him straight to the core. I will say, though, that it takes the guesswork out of discipline. The video games are always the very first to go. And if I have to take away several items, he has to earn everything else back before getting the video games back.

Now that it is summertime, the whole week is like the weekend. I’m not putting a whole lot of restraints on it. We are gone during the day, so he doesn’t play all day long. He wakes up in the morning and quickly makes his breakfast and lunch, and then gets ready for day camp. And when he’s all done getting ready, he plays video games for an hour before we leave. I never have to wait on him in the morning because he is the first one in the household to be ready to leave. When we get back, he’s back on the video games. And on the weekends, he has more time to play. I have noticed, though, that since his allotted playing time has increased, he is more apt to put the video games down and play outside with his friends or even just sit and read a book. And if I tell him to turn it off, he is more willing to do so since he knows that he can play again soon.

Any other parents have a video game junkie for a kid? How do you handle it? What kind of limits do you place on their playing?

What would you do with a million dollars?

24 Jun

“What would you do with a million dollars?” he asked.  We were playing the dream game, one of our favorites since we knew it was never going to happen.  But it was still fun to play, nonetheless. 

I had only thought about it a million times, one thought for each dollar.  And I had it mapped out completely.  Among getting a new house and car, the biggest plan I had would be losing my address and taking the kids out of school so we could live in a couple different countries for 3 or 4 month stays, inspired by the book, Eat. Pray. Love. by Elizabeth Gilbert.  We would bring along a tutor so they could be “home” schooled, but they would get the best education in the world as they SAW the world.

“That will make it kind of hard for us to visit each other,” Mr. Wonderful pointed out.  And I realized that the plans I made were still my single girl dreams, not including him in the least.  We started talking about the houses we would have, and he described his.  And I added my own personal touches to it.  And our views differed several different times.  And we both realized at the same time that we were bordering on future talk we were not ready to discuss, fantasy or not.  We don’t live together now.  While we would spend every waking moment with each other if we could, we enjoy having our own separate living spaces and relish our alone time.  And with only 7 ½ months under our belt, any talk about being more committed than we already were was an uncomfortable subject.

Thing is, in the world of single parenting, the future is always on our minds.  It is on his, and it is on mine.  And as much as we are adamant about not rushing into anything for the sake of our once broken hearts and the hearts of our kids, we wouldn’t even be in a relationship if we didn’t see something of a possibility for the future.  And it is both terrifying and exhilarating to admit that in our hearts and timidly out loud.

And we’re not the only ones who are thinking about the future.  This morning my son was reading the newspaper and came across a story about a dysfunctional married couple.  And he said that he hoped he never married someone like that. 

“Me too,” I agreed.

“But Mom, Mr. Wonderful would never be like that!” he exclaimed.

“Honey, who says that Mr. Wonderful and I are ever going to get married?” I asked him.  And he backtracked.  But I knew it was unfair to even pretend that he shouldn’t be thinking about that, because any man who enters my life holds the possibility of being his stepfather in his mind.  And knowing my son, he has tried out the position on every man that I have deemed worthy enough to meet him.

Dating as a single parent is a whole heck of a lot more complicated than just dating.  There are more than just two hearts involved.  I know I have broken my kids’ hearts several times when I said goodbye to former Mr. Less than Wonderfuls.  And I do hope that I am done breaking their hearts, that my heart stays intact, and so does his.  Only time will tell where this is headed. 

And so far it has been a lovely ride.

Kids Cleaning

22 Jun

“Crissi!” the neighbor kid called from downstairs.

“Yeah?” I asked, immersed in my work on the computer.

“Today’s Monday, the night I spend the night!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, it is,” I said.

“But my cousin is spending the night too,” he said.

“Oh, that’s too bad –“  I started, assuming he meant over at his house.

“So we can probably fit a third sleeping bag over there,” he said, pointing to a spot on the kids’ cleaned bedroom floor.

“Um, ok…” I said.

“So now you’ll have three boys spending the night!” he said happily before bounding down the stairs.

I think I got swindled.

The rule I made for my son was that the house had to be cleaned if he wanted his new best friend (and now his cousin, sigh) to spend the night.  He put his clothes away, and reluctantly (meaning he was already crying) went in the bedroom to clean it up.  His sister went downstairs and he threw a fit because he thought she was going to start playing his video games.  But all she was doing was getting her clothes.  Then, in the bedroom, there was more fighting.  She wanted it done a certain way.  He wanted to just throw everything in random boxes so that the middle of the room was cleared.  He came out in tears because he couldn’t work with that kind of pressure.  I told him that it would be easier if he just followed her direction because I didn’t want everything thrown in random boxes either.  She finally left the room and started cleaning the bathroom instead, followed by the dining room.  And he succeeded in making the room look clean on his own AND throwing everything in random boxes.

And my house is almost completely clean, and I didn’t have to do anything.

“I can’t wait till my toddler can clean,” my friend emailed me today, adding that her toddler did clear off the sink before my friend wiped it down.

As busy moms, it seems at times (in my case, ALL the time) that there is too much to do to finish up in one afternoon.  As soon as one room is clean and you’re onto the next, the precious angels are soaking up the novelty of a clean room, and messing it up in the process.  The work is never done, especially if you are the only one doing it.

This is where bringing the kids in is incredibly valuable.  At 11 and 8, my kids are capable of a lot more than they used to be able to do.  My son helps me take out the garbage, can sort laundry, and can sweep the kitchen floor.  My daughter can fold laundry, fill up the dishwasher, and make sense of random messes by making logical piles for me to sort through.  And it all saves time for me when I have to get down and dirty into the housework.  Even a toddler clearing off a bathroom counter one piece at a time is much like having a prep cook in a kitchen: it paves the way for the bigger job we have to do by chipping away at the menial tasks.

So don’t be afraid to get your kids to help you out…..even if they cry.  Truth is, eventually they’ll learn, like my daughter, that it’s just best to clean without arguing and get it done quickly, and that crying about it just slows the process down. Not only that, eventually it helps them to take pride in the house and keep it clean for a longer period of time.  I’ll let you know when that happens.

Alright, off to prepare for a sleepover with three boys…..

(As a girl, I have always called overnight parties “slumber parties”.  I recently got my hand kindly slapped by a dad when I referred to my son’s overnight that way.  For any moms that are confused like I was, “slumber parties” are for girls, “sleepovers” are for boys.  Now you know.)

The Lying Blogger

17 Jun

605de8f6-9df9-4cc9-9da3-46493bf704bd.jpg

About 7 years ago I was pregnant with my third child.  And like most pregnant women, the pregnancy was all I could think about.  I belonged to an online forum of women who were due around the same time as me, and through the months we became like family.  We knew about each other’s personal lives, offered each other advice, and supported each other emotionally through good times and bad. 

The community I experienced was important to me.  My husband and I never planned on having more than two children.  I was pregnant again by accident.  My son was only 1 when I found out I was expecting again.  He was an energetic child who took all the energy from me, and just the thought of raising him, and then another child who could be just as energetic….  Let’s just say I was slightly less than enthusiastic about the whole upcoming experience.  I joined the forum because I needed to talk about it, and I needed to know I wasn’t alone.  And what I got out of it was not only new friends, but an evolving feeling of anticipation for the child that was never planned but loved more and more every day.

Ask a pregnant woman what she is thinking about, and it will pretty much center around her expanding belly and the life inside of her.  Pregnancy affects the brain.  A pregnant woman could talk about her pregnancy at all times of the day and never run out of things to say.  And who can blame her?  There is so much going on in a pregnancy – from body changes to hormones to wondering about what’s normal and abnormal to how the family is being affected to swollen feet and peanut butter cravings….  Thing is, in real life, non-pregnant people are not interested in hearing about pregnancy 24/7. 

This is where my online community came in.

Suddenly I had a place where I could talk about even the most embarrassing change that was happening to me (hellllooooo hemorrhoids) and someone else would chime in with “Me too!”.  If I just needed a good cry, there was always someone there with a “listening ear” and a cyber hug.  Every doctor visit was detailed, as was every single flutter against our belly.  We filled that board with posts on every single topic relating to our pregnancy, as well as anything else.

When we were all about 5 months along, one of the ladies went into premature labor.  We prayed with her for her baby, a sweet baby girl attached to tubes in an incubator to keep her tiny body alive.  And privately we thanked God that it wasn’t us, that our babies were still safe and growing inside of us.  She continued to keep up with us on the boards, giving us regular updates on her premature baby.  A couple women put together a collection to get her a new computer so that she could easily keep us informed.  And through pictures we were able to experience her departure from the hospital and watch as she grew a little stronger every day.   Even women from the other boards visited ours to offer encouragement and love.

At 7 ½ months along I was sitting on the couch at home when I realized that I hadn’t felt my baby move all day.  In fact, the last time I had remembered feeling my baby was in the afternoon the day before when he had given me a series of quick frantic kicks before silencing again.  And on the ultrasound at the hospital that night I learned that my child’s heart had stopped beating.  It was later learned that his umbilical cord had cinched up tight, that the cord lacked the proper amount of Wharton’s Jelly to be able to stay full and allow food and nutrients to pass through.  In essence, my baby had died of starvation.

The support I received from the online boards at this time was overwhelming.  They offered me words of sorrow and love over my stillbirth.  These women had become like sisters to me in the past months, and were true to their care of me in the loss I experienced.  They were feeling the loss as well.  The mother of the premature baby was especially attentive with me.  She wrote me often in emails to see how I was doing and offer encouragement as I mourned.  She helped put together a care package that was sent to me from the ladies, a gift of little trinkets from the forum board to let me know they were thinking of me.  And I was grateful for her care.  The other women were still safe in their pregnancies, and were about to experience what I was not going to be able to experience – a happy and healthy birth to a living, breathing, wriggly baby.  At least this woman knew what it was like when things didn’t happen like they were supposed to.  The fact that she survived it and was doing ok even though her daughter now required constant medical care, it gave me faith that I would be ok too.

It was soon after that the boards received an alarming post from someone new.  The pictures that this woman was posting were not of her premature baby, but of her sister-in-law’s baby.  This woman had in fact lost her baby to stillbirth and was lying that her baby had actually been born prematurely.

The board was shocked.  And hurt.  And ANGRY.  I witnessed the verbal slander that these women hurled at the lying mother, furious that they had been tricked and made fools of.  She apologized profusely, and then disappeared from the boards, deleting her profile altogether.

A little while later, she emailed me, explaining her position.  She had hurt so much when her baby had died.  And to help process the pain, as wrong as she knew it was, she made up a make-believe world where her baby had been born and was real.  And having been through loss myself, I knew exactly what she was feeling.  We had been a part of a group of women who were all experiencing the same thing.  When circumstances changed, when the pregnancies ended without warning, we were suddenly the outsiders.  Since losing my baby, I sporadically visited the board to read up on the women who had become my friends.  But I found it more painful than reassuring because I could no longer relate.  And as their babies were born, it hurt like losing my son all over again.  She hadn’t wanted to lose that sense of community.  And she didn’t want to have to face the world where no baby existed.  So she made up a world of her own. 

I can understand the anger that has been fueled by the lying blogger who faked her pregnancy and birth of a terminally ill daughter named April Rose.  The heartstrings of people who supported her through emails and gifts were abused.  The people who had supported her were made to feel sympathy and love for a baby that never existed.

But I also understand the pain and hurt of a mother processing a life that should have been different.  She should have had a baby.  That baby should have been alive.  There never should have been a tragic ending.  I feel for her, this woman who went about things the wrong way to deal with the emotional scars left behind by pregnancy losses. 

This story is also a reminder that what we see online and what is real life can be two extremely different things.  The mask of the internet allows anyone to be whatever they project to the world, and easily do it without being questioned.  This story of the lying blogger is not the first of its kind, and will not be the last.  So please be careful in the information you put forth, and be aware that it is possible that there is more to an online person than what they are putting out there.

Baby Faces Contest Winner!

16 Jun

0bb8f794-c12d-4183-8fbf-a6e5fb84ef98.jpg

At the beginning of May, SantaRosaMom.com began a contest looking for the cutest baby photo.  The prize was a MacLaren Quest Sport Stroller from My Baby News on Santa Rosa Ave.  There were a lot of really cute photos submitted.  There was the Christmas baby and her big fluffy dog.  There was the sleepy baby boy in his bouncy walker.  There was the little bundle of joy with an adorable look of surprise.  There were so many cute baby faces that we wondered if it was even possible to choose just one.  But one baby face caught our eye.  Or should we say, TWO baby faces.

Meet E&V’s baby face twins, Ellie and Vance:


Ellie


Vance

E&V, aka Sarah, was ecstatic to win this prize!  As a busy mother of twins, she was in desperate need of a single stroller.  She told me that a double stroller is great when you have someone to help you through a crowd, but it was just too much too handle on her own when juggling two growing babies and a small area to maneuver around. 

Congratulations E&V!  We hope you enjoy your new stroller!

 

(From left: Storeowner Paula, WineCountryMom/Crissi, E&V/Sarah and Vance, and Ellie in the stroller)

Thank you to everyone who entered this contest.  I hope to see more photos of your lovely little ones on our site!

A huge thank you goes to George Resing and Paula Thomas of My Baby News.  If you haven’t checked out their store, you don’t know what you’re missing!  They have everything you can think of for your baby’s needs, and the staff are absolute naturals with babies. 

My Baby News
3011A Santa Rosa Ave.
Santa Rosa, CA  95407
707-546-BABY(2229)

 

The Beginning of Friendship

11 Jun

e4e318c7-d831-4b89-85e5-de2264c2d94b.jpg

When I was in kindergarten, there was this little girl who rode my bus.  We were in different classes, but I still knew her name.  She had golden brown hair that fell in ringlets around her freckly face.  And she wore lots of dresses.  Every day the bus would take her up to the top of the hill to a house with a really large field before heading back to down to my house in the valley.  I don’t remember if I had ever talked to her before.  What I do remember is the one day that she had to go to the bathroom and couldn’t quite make it as the bus struggled up the steep hill to her house in the field.  And as we finally rolled to a stop, a river of pee made its way down the grooves in the center aisle.  She had to do the walk of shame down that aisle, surrounded by whispers from kids figuring out what that river was.  I felt bad for her, but more than that, I felt really, really glad I wasn’t her.  She would be known as the girl who peed in the bus for several weeks after that.  And I would avoid her for the rest of the year to save myself from that shame.

A year later my teacher was Mrs. Heofer.  She was a nice teacher who spoke kindly and gently.  And she sat me front and center…..right next to Pee Girl.  And for the first five minutes I was very quiet.  But after that, there was no shutting us up.  We became fast friends, inseparable.  And the teacher soon learned that we really shouldn’t sit together if she needed our full attention.  But it was too late.  In a matter of moments, we became best friends.

Two weeks ago, a new family moved in next door.  I hadn’t met them yet, but I could hear them moving around through the thin walls.  I wondered what they would be like.  Would they be friendly?  Would they keep to themselves?  Would we have BBQ’s together, or share jokes over wine, or would we find that we couldn’t stand each other?  Were they kind of neighbors that would fight constantly or play loud music or stomp up and down the stairs?  What kind of neighbors would they be?

Getting new neighbors is stressful. I love my condo.  I live on a good street, I pay a decent amount for rent, the condo is really pretty and the neighbors are all good people.  A bad next door neighbor could throw everything out of whack.

On Sunday as we were coming back from church, they were on their way to their car.  It was a couple and their young son, a son who looked very close to my son’s age.  Sweet!  We introduced ourselves, and I turned to the boy.

“How old are you?” I asked him.

“8,” he said.

“Just like my son,” I said.  The boys grinned shyly, barely making eye contact as we said our goodbyes.  And that was it for our first meeting.

A week passed, and my kids were at their dad’s house.  I had friends over for breakfast and left the front door open to enjoy the nice breeze.  I could see the new neighbor kid hovering outside, peeking in as slyly as possible. I waved at him.  He looked like a deer caught in the headlights.  He waved back quickly and ran off.  But I noticed him staying close to my doorway for the rest of the morning.

My friends left and I went to pick up my kids.  We had a birthday party to be at, and stayed there for several hours.  We came back late that afternoon happy, sunburnt, and exhausted.  My son even fell asleep in the car.  I coaxed him awake so that he could walk to the house, and told him to go lie on the couch and rest some more.  He slept walked to the house.

We were only there for 5 minutes when there was a knock on the door.  We opened it and there stood the neighbor kid. 

“Can you play?” he asked my son.  And suddenly all tiredness left him.  The boys skateboarded outside, and then played on the scooter.  When outside got boring they came in and played video games.  When that got boring, they went back outside and I took them to the park.  They played baseball, football, and soccer.  The boys were like peas in a pod.  They were inseparable.

Every day this week that I went to work, I would come home and there would be a note from the neighbor kid to my son, asking if he wanted to play.  And every day my son would beg me to let him.  Together they would be in and out of my house and the neighbor’s house until my 8:30 pm curfew.  Tonight my son is actually spending the night over there.

All this after knowing each other less than a week.

My best friend and I went through a lot in our formative years.  We shared our secrets and our love of all things imagined like unicorns and fairies.  We made fun of her little sister and would hide in the attic where the computer was.  We would tell ghost stories at night, till we couldn’t fall asleep.  We learned what jealousy was as our little group of two was suddenly expanded to include another.  One of us would inevitably be left out.  We knew each others crushes and imagined what a first kiss would be like.  And when her parents got a divorce and her household got split apart, it was our friendship that stayed the same.  I had no idea what she was going through, and she gave no reason to believe that anything was different.  So we continued in our innocent friendship as if the world was alright.  And maybe in that, it MADE it alright.

I am reading this book right now called Firefly Lane, by Kristin Hannah.  It is the story of two girls and their friendship, and how that friendship saved each other.  It has made me laugh and cry, sometimes simultaneously.  It’s also the reason I am looking so closely at the friendship between my son and the neighbor, and why I am reminiscing about my own friend that I clung to, and who clung to me.  Friendships are important for everyone, kids and adults.  They help us to sort out ourselves, and to have someone to lean on when things are too hard. Life is better when you have someone to laugh with.  This whole beginning of a friendship, it is precious in its purity.  I can already tell the boys’ friendship will grow into something much bigger than them with how much they have in common and how alike they are.  And I have high hopes for it because the kid really is a great kid. 

And let’s face it, it is rather convenient when they can take themselves to their own playdates.

Challenge: Dirt vs Zout

9 Jun

c718443c-8513-4a1c-a1e5-a3276f41f9e7.jpg

A reader sent me this for the Great Stain Removal Challenge, her own experiment to see how the product, Out!, works.  Take a look at her first video!

That also looks like a great product!  You can keep up with her challenges at StainRemoverReview on YouTube.

The last baseball game we had, my son didn’t anhialate his pants too badly.  But still, he got some good slides in.  Here’s the way they looked after his game:

It is amazing how those grass stains appear even though he is sliding on DIRT.  Very mysterious…..

When we were kids, my mom swore by the product Zout (about $4.79).  She kept a bottle of it on the washer in the garage and a bottle of it in the kitchen under the sink, making sure it was at her disposal whenever a stain crisis occurred.  And with three active girls, you can imagine we went through those bottles quick.  I always like the smell of Zout, it has a really pleasant odor.  And as far as I could tell it got the stains out pretty good.  But I didn’t test it against other stain removers, so I really wasn’t sure how well it worked.

Fast forward to now, and I am using this remover again for the first time in probably 12 years.  It’s amazing how just a little whiff of the bottle brought me back to days of braces and skinned knees, and shorts that really shouldn’t come in powder blue or go that short.  Aaaaah……childhood.

Here’s what the website says about the product:

Zout Triple Enzyme Spray uses a concentrated formula with three different enzymes to remove tough everyday stains and even set-in stains. The first enzyme helps remove protein stains such as blood, grass, and sweat; the second enzyme helps remove starch stains such as tomato and barbecue sauce; and the third enzyme helps remove oily stains such as salad dressing and margarine. In addition, it removes other stains such as ground-in dirt, collar grime, grease, make-up, cooking oils, lipstick, fruit juices, chocolate, baby formula, ketchup, and dirty motor oil. Zout Triple Enzyme Spray is water-based, non-corrosive, non-flammable, and biodegradable, and doesn’t contain chlorine or bleach. It can be used on all colorfast washable fabrics including cotton, rayon, linen, nylon, polyester, polyester blends, and wool (not recommended for use on leather, cashmere, or silk).

I put a little on the knee of my son’s pants and rubbed in per the instructions.

The first thing I noticed is how quickly it was working.  These grass stains were a couple hours old, and after applying it and working it in, the stain is already noticeably lighter.  Gotta say, I was already pretty impressed.  I dabbed a little on each splatter of mud and then threw it in the wash. 

The final result?

As you can see, the stains are just about gone.  The little bit on the knee are leftover stains from before.  I don’t have a picture of it, but the Zout didn’t get out all the little dirt splatter on the back of the uniform.  But still, it is so far the reigning champion in stain removal, while OxyClean is winning as an excellent laundry booster.  My whites came out gleaming after OxyClean!

In the forums, HudsonsMom mentioned the OxyClean Laundry Stain Remover.  I am definitely intrigued by this since I am already so please with OxyClean Laundry Booster.  So I think the next challenge will be dueling stain removers.  I am sure my son can supply the severely stained pants (he’ll definitely be up for a getting good and dirty challenge should they not be dirty enough), so let’s try several at the same time to see how well they work.  Here are the contenders:

OxyClean Stain Remover
Zout
Shout Advanced Gel
Clorox Bleach Pen
Spray n’ Wash

Stay tuned!

Golf Balls, 8 Year Olds, and Dual Pane Windows.

8 Jun

There is a lesson in every moment with your child. There’s the lesson that milky cheerios will stick to the wall like superglue if not cleaned up immediately. There’s the lesson that if you don’t spell out chores for your child, they will not come up with the idea to clean by themselves. There’s the lesson that new jeans will have holes in the knees in two week’s time, and sooner if they are not on sale. And on that note, cheap shoes are more expensive in the long run as they will need to be replaced every three months. There’s the lesson that the dinners that take the longest to make will be picked at by your kid before you finally allow them to feed it to the dog. And there’s the lesson that whenever you are running late to get out the door, that is when your child will need to go to the bathroom…..the second kind.

And then there’s the lesson I learned today, the lesson that golf balls, 8 year olds, and the grandparents’ dual pane windows do not mix.

His grandpa had compromised with him – he couldn’t use the golf balls around the house, but tennis balls were ok. Unfortunately I hadn’t realized this when he put the golf ball on the ground and took a swing. The ball sat in a pocket of dirt, and I instructed him to move it up higher. We were far enough away from the house that it appeared no danger existed. And he just tapped the ball….perfectly.

Let’s stop the story right here and talk about my son and his uncanny ability with every sport he touches. Baseball, basketball, soccer, beer pong*, golf…. If it involves a ball, he’s on it, and he’s good at it. I wonder how Tiger Woods’s dad felt when Tiger hit his first ball and sent it sailing through the air. I’m pretty sure that it was nothing less than boastful pride.

My son brought the club back easily, swinging it down lightly in a smooth stroke so that it barely touched the ball. He didn’t even scrape the ground in the process. And that ball lifted up as if it had its own power, set sail in an impressive arc, and flew right at the bedroom window, landing with a dull thud against the house before falling to the ground. I was in my car, ready to leave for work, when it happened. And I prayed inwardly that it just hit the siding, that I could let my son off by just taking the golf club away to prevent future accidents, and then be on my way.

Of course, then I wouldn’t have a story to write, now would I?

The result was a half moon shaped hole in the glass of the dual pane windows. It was probably only an inch and a half. And it didn’t touch the glass on the other side. But I knew that my dad would be pissed, and the look on my son’s face confirmed that he knew it too.

Thing is, my dad was on a conference call in his home office. There was to be no interruptions. But I couldn’t just leave without telling him. I wrote out a letter explaining the situation and instructed my son to give it to him. But then I thought better of it. With my dad finding out from my son, there was no protection for him whatsoever. It was like sending a lamb to confer with a lion. So I did the next best thing. I called my mom and confessed the crime.

As kids, my mom was the buffer. If something really bad happened and there was no way to get around it, it was mom we went to. Don’t get me wrong, my mom would give us hell. But it was a different (read: way better) kind of hell than the hell my dad would reap on us for screwing up. We knew that my dad would have to find out one way or another, but it would go easier if my mom took the brunt of his reaction so that he would soften up by the time he got to us.

This was my hopes for my son.

I left a different note with my dad telling him to call my mom as soon as he was off the phone. Apparently those instructions failed, though. Before he could call my mom, he found out through my son who cannot hide something that big for a period of time longer than a minute. It is possible that my dad knew just by looking at his face. Last I checked, my son was read the riot act and then ordered to stack firewood as the first of many chores.(I can only imagine what my son is going through right now if I’m feeling more than nervous about going home and facing my dad. The mom in me wants to wrap him up and protect him. The parent in me knows that the not-so-pretty outcome from a smashed window is good for him.)

In the meantime, I have to find out how much it will cost to fix a dual pane window with aluminum casing (I’ve heard it runs around $500. Sigh…). Or I need to find someone who knows what they are doing to replace it for me for less.

At this point, I think I will save money once they are out of the house and I am just paying for their college.

*Speaking of college: Beer pong for kids only involves cider. Hey, it’s never too early to prep them for college, right?

← Older Entries