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Alone Together (Or Not)

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Normally Kathy and I “write blind” – that is, we select a topic, write our pieces, and then compare notes. For this post, however, I read hers first. And I am so glad I did because our perspectives could not be more different.

With two small people the challenges of keeping them both happy multiply. Don’t get me wrong, there are times when I’m doing a puzzle with Lunchbox and Slim is playing in her room, or when Slim and I are working on her homework and Lunchbox is playing on his iPad or goofing off with Dreamy. These bursts of relative contentment last only as long as someone’s good mood, unfortunately, and Dreamy and I constantly drift back and forth between the two kids. Thus we don’t have the same type of togetherness as what Kathy describes; ours is more fluid and free-flowing.

Together time can be better managed by splitting up – a way for parent and child to bond without completely wiping out said parent’s energy. While not ideal, it is a good strategy for some activities and errands. Dreamy will take Slim to a Girl Scout event, for example, while Lunchbox and I go to the park or to get the groceries. They each get a parent to themselves (win!) and this sort of concentrated one-on-one time works best with my introversion (win!). Plus, sometimes I find it overwhelming doing things as a foursome given the age, gender, and temperament differences between Slim and Lunchbox (and shoot, let’s be real here, sometimes between Dreamy and me).  But that’s a subject for another post.

The idea of “alone together” time is lovely in theory but in practice it often doesn’t work at my house. Sometimes, though, particularly with Slim, we can pull this off, such as cuddling in bed at night, each engrossed in our own books. And I as I write this, Lunchbox is jamming away on the Wii. So even though the Mario Kart music is blasting in my ear, he’s happily in his own universe while I’m toodling along in mine.   

This gives me hope for the future.  As Slim careens towards the Tween Years, I want for us to do things together, to have a shared interest. We both like baking and maybe a cake decorating class is in our future. Same goes for Lunchbox – he and I can resume our mini-nature hikes in the spring if he decides to begin wearing pants on the regular.

Until then we shall muddle through. With earplugs, because I really hate Mario Kart.

 

Happy Thanksgivukkahmas!

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The first night of Hanukkah is tomorrow.  Thanksgiving is two days away and Christmas is closer than the Moms care to admit. We’re a little stressed just writing the word “holiday.”

Fortunately, we have a plan.

Kathy My version of a perfect holiday season goes something like this: Sweet potato casserole. Pumpkin pie. Menorah. Latkes. Christmas music. Cookies. Gingerbread house. Charlie Brown, the Grinch, and Christmas Eve on Sesame Street. More cookies. My ceramic light-up tree. Snow that looks pretty but melts before I have to drive in it. Visiting family. More cookies. Movie night on New Year’s Eve. 

Luckily, Doodlebug and iDad are happy with this holiday scenario, too. And when I lay it out like this, it seems perfectly obtainable. (Except for the weather. The snow gods have not smiled on us in recent years.) But I know I need to plan ahead if I want to keep the focus on the things I love and not get sucked into the holiday maelstrom. Some strategies: 

  • No malls. This is a new one for me this year – in the past we’ve cut way back on shopping stress by limiting the number of presents we exchange and by planning fun trips with our families in lieu of gifts. This year I want to focus more on gifts we (or our talented friends) have made, or things we’ve found at local shops. I’ve decided I’m not setting foot in a mall again until 2014.  

  • Letting go of certain traditions. For the past five or six years we’ve done an advent calendar with a mini stocking for each night – Doodlebug would either get a candy cane, a note about a fun holiday activity we’d do that day, or materials for a craft project. Last year, though, I ran myself ragged trying to come up with new fun things that she mostly wasn’t interested in doing anyway. This year I bought an advent calendar with chocolate inside. Done.  

  • Saying yes, with care. This can be risky — Christmas caroling with the Brownie troop? I have a bad feeling about this — but I also want to be sure Doodlebug gets to spend time with other kids this season. As the only grandchild in the family, I know she’ll be logging a lot of time with grown-ups. So yes, we’ll go caroling. And we’ll be at the neighborhood holiday party. And maybe, if the snow gods cooperate, she and Princess Slim can break out the sleds. Hot chocolate and cookies at my house afterward.

— Kathy

tiffany_head_256 Is anyone immune to holiday stress? Anyone? Bueller?

I’ve been feeling anxious and melancholy lately. The latter is attributable to missing my family, which I’m not going to see this year; the former is … well … hmmm.  There’s baking card-writing decorating shopping wrapping to do in addition to regular home and work responsibilities. There are babysitters to hire and parties to attend. And Dreamy’s birthday to plan. Inhale, count to ten, exhale. Repeat.

As a kid I remember feeling the same way even without all the adult responsibilities mentioned above. My parents attributed my crabbiness to being afraid that Santa wasn’t going to leave me any presents. Thanks, Mom and Dad. Way to throw gasoline on the fire.

While the fear of no gifts undoubtedly contributed to my moodiness, between holiday music program rehearsals and performances, family activities, school, and travel is it any wonder I was a pint-sized stressball? Looking back the connection between Little Grouchy Tiffany and Big Grouchy Tiffany is clear:  not enough downtime.

So, this year the holidays will be different. I will not, for example, succumb to the siren call of holiday craft projects. Store bought tinsel? Fine. I will not attempt spritz cookies, with their mercurial dough and dungeon-worthy cookie press. Bakery treats? Absolutely. I will not attend every party or dinner to which I am invited nor will I stress about making everything perfect for everyone. I will do my best, but that does not include draining my energy tank to mission-critical low levels.

Here’s what I will do:  plan activities for the kids to do while they are on break. Playdates, museums, and a day trip or two. I will bake and cook but not to the point of exhaustion. I will take naps, preferably with Lunchbox in his tiny twin bed. I will drink wine and watch movies (“Skyfall” arrived on Netflix last week.  Double-O YES). And I will hopefully arrive at 2014 feeling happy, healthy, and infinitely grateful for the many marvellous things with which I am graced.

Daniel Craig, that includes you.

— Tiffany

Just Saying No

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To paraphrase Mr. T, pity the introvert who signs up to be room parent. It’s that time of year again — read on to find out how the Moms handle those nonstop requests to volunteer at school.

KathyOn Monday afternoon I was chatting with another mom on the playground. “Are you going to be room parent again?” she innocently asked me. “You did such a good job last year.”

I’m pleased to report I did not run away screaming.

Here I must note that TEACHERS ARE AWESOME. I’m a teacher’s kid, and I absolutely understand how much time, work, and love the job requires. I want to support Doodlebug’s teachers and her school, and I have the flexibility in my schedule to do so. I like getting to know her classroom, the other kids, and her teachers.

But. But but but.

I learned last year that being room parent is a terrible fit for me and my personality. Doodlebug’s class actually had three room parents, but I ended up being the lead, which meant I:

  • Attended several PTA meetings.

  • Sent countless emails, only some of which were answered.

  • Collected and managed the funds for class parties and teacher gifts.

  • Planned and executed said parties.

  • Came up with ideas for and purchased said gifts.

  • Spearheaded our class’s Teacher Appreciation Week efforts, which included cards, flowers, and food.

  • Participated in a snowman t-shirt stamping extravaganza.

  • Helped 24 seven-year-olds tie-dye t-shirts.

  • Presented flowers to the music teachers after the play.

  • Made Valentine’s Day cupcakes, decorated melted snowman water bottles, and did something for Halloween that I’ve mercifully blocked out of my mind.

  • Procured bags and bags of candy for a gingerbread-house-making-fest.

Actually, now that I look at the list, I see a very clear breakdown of things I enjoy vs. things that make me want to hide in a dark room. Anything where I got to play with sugar was fun. Anything where I was with a group of kids for more than 15 minutes, not so much. Meetings, no. Organizing other people, dealing with money, paint? No, no, NO!

So I politely told the playground mom that I’d be taking this year off instead of screaming “Never again!” There are other, more introvert-friendly ways to volunteer at school.

  • Help stuff the kids’ take-home folders.

  • Make copies for the teacher.

  • Bring coffee and/or snacks to teachers or office staff.

  • Bake treats for parties.

  • Send in paper products for parties.

  • Volunteer to pick up teacher gifts, flowers (no presenting!).

  • Shop for supplies for crafts.

  • Send in money/t-shirts/other supplies when room parents ask. (Note for parents who aren’t able to help in the classroom – this is so much more important than you think! I was grateful for each and every person who sent in funds. And it was a huge help when people remembered to send in materials for craft projects.)

So this year will be different. At Back-to-School Night, I walked by the table full of volunteer sign-up sheets and didn’t put my name down for a single job. I’m going to wait and see what opportunities come up during the year, and I’m only going to choose ones I’m excited about.

NO TIE-DYE!

— Kathy

tiffany_head_128I have no time to volunteer. So I write checks. And respond in a timely fashion to PTA or teacher requests. And bake when I can. That’s all the mental energy I’ve got, people.

Don’t get me wrong. I love teachers and I admire and respect parents who provide material and physical support by organizing and leading activities. But I don’t think I am one of those parents. Even if I did have time would I volunteer for classroom activities? I like the idea of volunteering at school but let’s be real here: ONE seven-year old wears me out. A room full of seven year olds? Um. Would I get a week by myself in Bali to recover? Could I volunteer to reshelve books in the library after school hours? Because that’s about my speed.

I want to support Princess Slim as much as possible, of course, but for me, right now,  support means creating a home environment conducive to learning, emphasizing the importance of reading, feeding her healthy food, and making sure she gets enough sleep. And by loving her to bits for who she is. If I contribute bake sale brownies made from a box instead of from scratch it doesn’t mean I support her any less, nor does it mean I’m an inferior parent. This is what I can do right now. And you know what? Seven year olds can’t tell the difference between boxed and homemade anyway!

You’d think this would cause an Instaguilt™ flare-up. Fortunately it doesn’t thanks to plenty of therapy and the ability to say no;  in fact, the necessity of saying no. If you have a difficult time with the latter this article offers a quick and easy tutorial. I find the idea of a Resentment Journal delicious. Oh, the pages I could fill…

I make kick-ass from-scratch brownies, however. Just so you know.

— Tiffany