Jami Cries It Out

I have an 18-month old who still gets up once in the middle of the night, and gets nursed and rocked back to sleep. My older son was rocked to sleep until he was almost 20 months old, and then again when he moved to the bed at age 3 - more rocking to sleep. If I mention these facts to people, I am often advised about the idea of "crying it out" or "Ferberizing" (which by the way, is a bit bastardized from what Dr. Ferber intended) and, as politely as possible, I change the subject. Because I hate the idea of babies left to cry.

I'm blogging about this today because yesterday I heard a most profound assessment of the idea on a very unlikely place - Law and Order: UK. I love the L&Os and while I can't watch SVU after having children, the rest are quality watching. The BBC's one is especially fun because it recycles old original episodes, but tweaks them. Good fun. Anyhow, several of the police officers were discussing the merits of crying it out. One said that it teaches babies to sleep on their own, and another replied that it merely teaches them that Mommy and Daddy aren't coming no matter how hard they cry, and that crying is their only way to communicate (which is true, but not the profound part). Then he said to another officer: "I wouldn't leave you in a room alone if I saw you crying." And BINGO - that is exactly what I had been trying to get across to people. It's simple compassion. I hope that if I were sitting alone crying and you could hear me from the next room, you would at least pop your head in and ask what's wrong. You might even come sit next to me and put your hand on my shoulder or arm. If I said, "I'm just lonely and I don't want to be alone right now" wouldn't you stay with me? If a baby is crying in his crib in the middle of the night, in the dark and without the capability to understand that you are just in the next room, how can you say "Oh, just let him cry until he's so exhausted he falls asleep" and not realize you are doing the same thing?

I'm not saying that I instant scoop the baby up when he makes the faintest noise, in fact, when he cries at night, I listen for a few minutes to see if he is going back to sleep, which he sometimes does. Then, if he isn't going to sleep, I get up, use the bathroom and usually get a drink of water before I get him, because I'll need both of those if I'm going to nurse and rock him.

When Eddie was old enough to understand what I was saying, I started using the Five Minute Method, which worked very well for him and, in my opinion, reinforced the idea that he was not going to be abandoned to cry it out alone, no matter what. There is plenty of debate about crying it out and a ton of research supporting both sides, really. I would say that IMO, the research shows that "normal" cry it out babies (not the ones who are allowed to cry for hours, unattended, regularly) have no long term damage, however I also think that the studies so that it is a very stressful and generally unnecessary event. I believe that most parents want to do what is best for their child, to the best of their ability. I imagine that most babies who have been through crying it out are just fine. But that doesn't mean it's right for our family.

Jami and the Dad and Donut Day Flyer

Eddie's preschool has "Donut with Dad" day coming up soon. The school asks dads to bring the kids to drop off and spend 20 minutes having a doughnut and cup of juice in the classroom with their child. They take a picture (last year it was made into a magnet) and I guess, show off their class work or something. The flyer says that if Dad can't make it, send Mom or another friend or relative. Which makes sense, some kids may not have dads around and some dads may just not be able to make it on a weekday morning. But the saddest line is the last one on the page: "If no one can attend with your child, please let us know ahead of time." Okay, if there is no one in your family or friends group who can take 1/2 hour out of their day (with more than 2 weeks notice) to spend with your child, then you need to seriously re-evaluate your life. I am not joking or being snide; I am too serious about that to even make a clever simile. If you know me, you probably already know my stance on child-rearing, but to sum up: if you have children - raise them. You don't have to never leave your child's sight, I make liberal use of family members who love my kids. They help with babysitting or drop-off/pick-up and what have you. So I'm not suggesting that you risk getting fired to have a quick doughnut with the munchkins, but no one?? Not a family member, friend, neighbor, nanny or anything?? The fact that it's on the flyer means that it must have happened. Wow, that must make your child feel super-loved and important. "Sorry honey, I know that every other child in your class will have a visitor in class, but I'm sur the teacher can dig up a stranger to be your friend." Who the heck is dropping your kid off? I am not a perfect parent. I'm not an expert. I just can't concieve of a preschooler finding out that there is no one in this world for whom he is a priority. Heartbreaking.

Jami and the Day We Brought Eddie Home

Five years ago today (it was actually Friday the 13th) we brought Eddie home. We got him on the 9th, went through the Embassy on the 11th, but the 13th was the day our plane touched down on US soil and we went through customs - that was the moment I let myself believe it. In Guatemala, everything had gone pretty peachy, legal-stuff-wise. The husband and I had managed to catch some sort of bug (probably on the plane) that caused us each to spend 1 day in the hotel bathroom horking for all we were worth, and gave me a chance to practice my superior Spanish. "Gatorade" in Spanish is "GATORADE" with frantic gesturing at the bottles. Since I knew that "verde" means green and "limon" means lemon guess which flavors we got? I am certain the guy knew that the lemon was actually lemon lime (and to this day, I don't know what the green flavor was) but he was not about to argue the point with the increasingly verde gringo with a fistful of quetzels. I love Gatorade when I'm sick and I'll post on that tomorrow. Anyway, we got embassy approval, we had passports and visas stamped and approved. We had more paper than Dunder Mifflin, and I still worried that something would suddenly derail this journey of more than 2 years. So, when the nice man in the Customs uniform handed us back our papers and waved us through, a million emotions just flooded over me, mostly relief and pure joy. I burst into tears, right there in the concourse, but since we'd been on what they used to call "the baby flight" there were plenty of other sobbing mommies so I didn't stand out too much. Eddie was in the Snugli (my pre-mei tai days) and I just held onto him and sort of blindly followed The Husband who had the wits enough to be trying to find our connecting flight. The rest of that night is a blur of flight delays and phone calls, finding gates and luggage and seats, but I will never forget that moment when I let myself finally believe, when Eddie really and truly was forever ours.

Jami Thinks You Need Your Head Examined If You Thought That Was Appropriate For Your Daughter

I get Halloween, at least the dressing up part. Pretending to be something or someone else and acting silly - I can totally get into that. I love the imagination of it, and come on, it's all for fun. Yes, it's all fun, until your grade-schooler looks like a whore. As a whole, we've grown accustomed to the sexy costumes for adult women. I'm not saying that's good or bad, if you're grown, you can dress like a sexy witch or hot nurse or slutty zebra for all I care. Depending on your age and figure you might even be able to carry it. Or you might look ridiculous and pathetic, but if you've reached your majority and you decide in whatever wisdom you've managed to achieve that it's a good choice - have at it. But as much as that's fine for adults, that does not make it hunky-dory for tots. Kids like to do what adults do. That doesn't mean they should. My preschooler would like to drive the car. He thinks he could do it and he really wants to. That doesn't mean I'll let him. So even if your second grader deeply loves the sexy devil costume, that doesn't mean she should wear it. I was deeply shocked by some of the costumes I have seen so far this year. The sexy devil - a girl I'd guess not more than 7 or 8, with full Miss America style pageant make up and teased up hair. Here's a pic of a similar costume. I'm so glad it has keyhole cleavage and is belly-bearing, because it's typically so warm this time of year in most of the US. I'm not sure if it's more disturbing than this one or not. I saw a few scantily clad "witches", a catsuit so tight it would make Halle Berry blush and what I think was supposed to be a Vegas dancer. No, sadly, I am not making any of that up. Most horrifying, in my never-humble opinion, was a girl in an orange mini-dress. She had torn up fishnet stockings and high black heeled shoes, the kind you might refer to (but in reference to a child I never would) as FMPs. The dress had a number printed on the front lapel and a matching orange pillbox-style cap. I looked and looked and looked at her and could not figure out what the heck she was supposed to be. I asked an adult in the group she was with, who apparently was not the girl's mother. She had the decency to look embarrassed, and said "Uh, I think she's a prisoner. You know, like a jail inmate." Sure enough the girl (maybe 10 at the MOST, if she was very tall for her age) turned around and "Department of Corrections" was stenciled on the back. Do I even need to start the list of the things wrong with that??? If I do, please stop reading this now, turn your children into the local fire department and have yourself fixed. Please. I didn't find the link to the children's one and frankly, don't want to see it again, but here's the exact costume she was wearing, on a grown woman - except it is longer on the adult. I feared what would happen if this girl had to bend down to pick up a dropped candy. What's the thinking on the parents' part here?? What is going through your head when your baby girl says she wants to buy 4 inch patent leather heels to go with her nurse outfit and you say "Okay"??? Seriously, I cannot even think of a way to justify that in my head. If you are so unbelievably wussy as to be arguing that "everyone else is doing it" or that "she doesn't know what it means" or some such, put yourself in time out. It's not just how the girls see themselves, what are you advertising when you send her out like that? You know the answer. Man up and tell your daughter "no!" But folks, here's the hard truth. While it should horrify us beyond words that they make such costumes for little girls, they do it because someone will buy it. If no one bought a skimpy outfit for their daughter, next year none would be made, because they corporations only make what they can sell. Look horrified when you see a child dressed like that,especially if the parents are around. I'm all for being nice to kids, but I would never tell that girl that she looked cute or good. There's no need to be rude, but we do girls no favors when we tell them it's okay to dress like that at their age.

Jami Riding in Cars with Boys

So I have been participating in an exciting new game show. It's called being in the car with my kids. Here's how it works. I drive the car, trying to pay attention to directions or making a left hand turn at a busy intersection or traffic signs and such and Eddie peppers me with questions that aren't necessarily difficult, but definitely distract when you are focused elsewhere. Here is an actual excerpt from the other day: "What is 19 plus 19? How do the wires from one telephone pole connect to the ones at the next pole? Where do lime trees grow? What rhymes with "giraffe"? What plants grow in the tundra, because it doesn't rain there and it's cold but there are animals so they must eat something." At that last one I gave up. "I don't know. Here's mommy's phone; call your grandfather. He'll know." (He did, it's lichen). Then, for the bonus lightning round, Finn will wake up and start screaming because he's done being in the car seat. This causes Eddie to shout his questions and then when I answer yell "HUNH??" after each sentence. I figure if we actually make it home without getting in a wreck or me stopping and letting the boys out on the side of the road, I win. Cone of silence, where are you???

Jami's Offer of the Day!! Don't Miss Out!!

Hi folks, are you bored, flabby and in need of entertainment? I am offering for rent, at a very reasonable price, 1 ten-month-old boy who apparently does not require sleep and is magnetically attracted to dangerous objects. You get: - exercise as you chase him around. - a chance to practice your primal screaming. - to find all those sharp and/or poisonous items you've dropped and not found. You may even find some new dangers you weren't aware of! - fun for the whole family as he shrieks and tears around your house. - to experience the fun hallucinations from sleep deprivation. BUT WAIT - order now and I'll throw in, for NO extra charge.... 1 almost-5-year-old who is attempting to prove that everything any adult says is wrong. With this addition, you can also: - practice your debating skills! - learn to multi-task! - appreciate how clean your house was! - reinforce to your teens why they should practice abstinence! That's right - order now and get BOTH these life enhancing products in your home for 1 low, low price. Delivery available to the Western PA area, in other parts of the country shipping charges may apply.

Jami and the Search for Suit that Suits

So I haven't been posting here much, lots of things going on and FaceBook allows quick thoughts to be posted much faster, but since I have a few moments, thought I'd share a recent adventure. Finn is still nursing, meaning I'm still sporting the milk-filled tatas that make me look like I may tip over at any moment. I'm not going to post my cup size, but I was recently measured (publicly!!) by a professional and let's just say she told me I Have some Huge Hooters, get the Hint? Anyway, we're headed to the beach soon and my pre-pregnancy bathing suits could not contain the ladies. Off to Kohl's I went, thanks to the 30% off coupon from the mail. My normal swimsuit stradegy is: Buy the cheapest suit that fits. This time I decided I would actually pry the wallet open a little and find a suit I really feel good about, within reasonable limits. Upon reflection, I realized it had been SEVEN years since I last purchased a new bathing suit, so I don't feel too selfish in spending more than my usual $12.99. Theorizing that the enormous upstairs would be best suited by a tankini (since I could get a size WOW! for the top and a normal bottom), I gathered up a load of mix'n'match parts and tried them all on. This did not work. The tankini tops seem to fall into two categories: held up by super-skinny spaghetti straps or squish everything flat. No thanks on both. Then I hit the one-pieces. I found a section of "Figure Fixing" suits, with tags like "hip hiding", "long torso", "tummy flattener" and the one that sounded most promising "flatters full figure". Hmmm. Full does seem to be the proper word. I'd have to say , however, that "flatters" must mean "exposes" because this suit made me a walking advertisement for mammory glands. No lie, I think if I wore that suit in public, every person who looked directly at me would involuntarily yell "BOOBS!!" regardless of gender or sexual orientation. I skipped the "enhances bust" suits, even though I had some curiousity what my bust would look like enhanced; it's possible it would be visible from space. Finally, after a parade of suits that either failed to support, supported to the point of painful squished-ness, or looked like they belonged to the Senior Olympic synchronized swim team, I found ONE suit that looked good. It's black with gold and white trim and even a little tassle. I can get the baby-feeders out when needed but my super-white cleavage isn't exposed enough to blind passing aircraft. It was already on sale, and so with the coupon, it still is the most expensive suit I've ever purchased, BUT it was also well under the $50 absolute limit I'd set for myself. So, you aspiring designers out there, here's a great niche market for you!

Jami May Smell

One of the concerns I've had since becoming a stay-at-home mom is the fear that I stink. See, pre-kids, I showered in the mornings and showered or took a long, hot, luxurious bubble bath every evening. Some days (especially when I lived in the place I didn't pay the utilities) I showered mid-day as well. Just because I could. When Eddie first came home and I still worked, the Husband would be taking care of the boy in the mornings, so I still showered every day, even if I didn't get my second one. BUT - and other SAHMs can back me up on this if they're being honest - when you are the primary care giver to one or more little ones, there are days when you just can't get to the shower. Even if I do, I sometimes get out realizing I didn't wash an entire section of my body or that I still have conditioner in my hair because I'm trying to get in and out of there before the next mommy-requiring calamity. Now, if I'm going somewhere, I almost always finagle a shower on those days, but sometimes I just can't, especially if where I'm going is to the grocery store and post office and I have 10 minutes until I have to pick up the big one at preschool, but the little one is screaming to eat RIGHT NOW and I haven't even showered or eaten and I can't find my left tennis shoe. Also, mommying involves a variety of stinky objects one must deal with. Diapers, garbage, juice cups which were left behind the chair long enough to qualify as science fair projects. Plus the effort involved does often lead to sweating, regardless of the extremely misleading stereotype of women sitting around eating chocolates and watching daytime TV. You chase my toddler for 1 hour, carry laundry up and down 2 flights of stairs wearing a baby and then we'll see how you smell. This leads me to worry, frequently, that I might be malodorous. I use tons of deodorant. When I do get to take a "real" shower, I scrub off the first several layers of skin. I try to ensure that I'm always wearing clothes that have been worn no more than 2 non-consecutive days. So there you go. I love being a mom, but sometimes, it really stinks.

Jami - a Feminist? Part 2 - Wife and Mommy-hood

Feminism's great triumph is allowing women to pursue the career/employment of their choice. Be a doctor, a lawyer, an Indian chief (probably you can't just apply for that last one . . .). I'm glad that women don't have to quit their jobs as soon as the ring is on the finger and that it's not legal to pay anyone less for the same work based on gender (or race, or what have you). However, this "You CAN have a job outside the home" attitude began the downward spiral into a pressure that you should have outside employment. That somehow a woman who chooses (and isn't it all about choice?) to spend her time and energy and education running a household and caring for her family is somehow less - and this, I believe, did a grave disservice to us all. I am a stay-at-home mom, something I aspired to be long before I had a college degree or spouse. It just made sense to me that nothing I could do in the workforce is as meaningful as raising my own children and being the kind of parent I had. I am a wife, and that isn't just a state of being. You don't go through the ceremony and then your effort is over. I said "I do," so that's that! Wife-ing is work, and I'll be the first to admit I haven't always been great at it and I still often fail at being the wife I know the Husband deserves. I absolutely could not be the wife and mother I want to be if I had a full-time job. There is nothing demeaning or sexist about it. My career of choice is making my home a place where my husband and children want to be and are happy, healthy and safe. I can't do that job if I'm at some office 8 hours a day pushing paper. Won't happen. When my infant was fussy and needed to be held all day Thursday, I was there to do it. When my toddler struggles with a new concept, or is scared or hurt, I am there. When my husband leaves a stressful day at work, he has a comforting place to return to. Because that is my job. I am a wife. I am a mother. My education is not wasted by my choice. First, I don't believe it's ever a waste to learn, to improve your mind, to open new roads of thought. Second, I use my education as part of my career and you can, too. My job entails accounting, teaching, counseling, chemistry, time-management, interpersonal skills, detective work, grammar, acting, directing and more. My ethics and philosophy classes will come in handy as I mold my sons. I don't disrespect the women who choose to work outside the home. I hope they find the way to integrate their work and their personal lives so that they aren't missing the brief and irreplaceable moments in their family's lives. I do think that you are more likely to have struggles in your marriage if you are both working full-time outside the house, because of the additional stresses and division of labor. I don't think that it "has to" be the woman who stays at home (although, I consider it "gets to") but we are built differently and our instinct as women is to nurture our families. It isn't giving up something to follow that instinct, it is instead a fulfillment of who we are. We get to work the entire rest of our lives if we choose, but for our children, we only have them in our homes for the blink of an eye. Our marriages will only be as healthy and strong as we make them. And that takes time and effort. When I worked a morning shift at a radio station, I spent a good deal of my time being either too tired to do much or napping. I hadn't given it much thought until after I left that station and my husband said something about having his wife back. He didn't marry a tired, cranky DJ - it wasn't fair to him to be living with one. Temping after that paid less, but allowed me to be the me he'd married - which is more valuable in the long run? Marriage isn't an institution designed to keep women down. Children aren't accoutrements which need to be stored while you go out to find something "worthwhile" to do. A woman who puts her family ahead of a career, or money, or power doesn't lower herself; she raises the standard. I aspire to be that kind of woman.

Jami is "That" Mom

Sigh. I've long been blessed with a pretty healthy dose of not caring what most people think about me. Don't like my hair, clothes, car? So what? Think I talk too much? You're probably right. Sorry. In general, my feeling is either you like me for who I am, or you don't. And mostly, that's worked for me. However, it's different now that my kids are getting out into the world. Or more specifically, kid. Eddie is in preschool now and it's a very different world from the preschool he was in last year. Not bad, just different. And I think I'm this class's "that mom". You know, like 'That mom showed up with toothpaste on her forehead, again." "That mom forgot that today is bring in a working model of a nuclear power plant you made out of macaroni day." Many of these moms show up in nice clothes and full make-up. I'm happy to be there on time with pants on. I haven't volunteered for any of the activities yet, I'm still trying to figure out how all this works and also getting used to having two kids. At Halloween, I was surprised when Eddie came home with a little treat bag from each other student. Argh!! I checked all the take-home materials, not a word in there about bringing gift bags. So then for Christmas, the paper home says we are doing a book exchange. Bring a book, gift wrapped, gender neutral, no more than $5. Sounds good. We won't be doing gift bags, because we are doing books. Right? Wrong again! Once again my thankfully-oblivious son returns home with a sack of individually wrapped treats after having none to hand out. Some moms really brought the bucks, others did nice homemade stuff. Even if I'd thought of it, with my budget and talent, Eddie would have been handing out those ghosts you make from lollipops and tissue. "Tell them it's from A Christmas Carol, baby. We're literary folk." Only that morning on the way in did I remember that moms usually give teachers a little gift. Argh again! Fortunately the patient and sainted Husband went off in search of gifts for the teachers before pick-up time. If it were just me, I wouldn't care if the other mothers noticed that I wear pajama pants about once a week for drop-off or if they whisper that I bring the cheapest snack when it's my turn. I do plan to volunteer for something, honest. But I don't want it to reflect on Eddie. I don't want him to have the mom that the other ones giggle about. Sure, he'll get picked on for something at some point in his life, everyone who hasn't been made fun of, please drop me a line, but it shouldn't be because his mom's a nutball. At our old preschool, I knew the other moms' names. We chatted at pick up time, even had a few playdates. Now I feel like the odd Mom out - maybe because we started this year late (due to birth and all) or maybe they were all friends last year when their kids were in this preschool for the 3's. I don't know and normally I wouldn't care. I have my friends. I like my friends. I barely have time for my friends. So why do I want so much to make them like me? Because Eddie's great and they all should talk about that, not about me. Mommying is hard. And I'll be ready at Valentines!

Jami Worries About the Future of Imagination

In the past several day, the topic of Legos has come up in conversation several times. If you're my age, you remember big sets of Legos, sometimes with suggestions of what you could build, pictures of different buildings or vehicles that you could assemble with some of the pieces in the box. Some had those little people with the Lego feet and C-shaped hands. But now Legos come in kits, almost exclusively, with one finished product per set. In fact, a few years ago I was unable to even locate Legos that weren't a specific kit. Don't believe me? Check out their website and try to find a lego set that isn't meant to be just one thing. On one hand, I think that this is neat. My Lego creations were basically randomly colored buildings, usually rectangular in shape and as symmetrical as I could achieve with the blocks I could reach. But what about just building something you create, or figuring out how to make something look like the idea in your head? This is where the problem lies. Our culture increasing does more for our children. They have real playhouses instead of cardboard boxes. The toys are more and more "set" or "done" and allow less room for creating and imagining. If we don't learn to use our imaginations when we're children, when will we? Combine the imagination-less toys with more TV and super-real looking video games, and I wonder if this generation will grow up imaginations at all! I have wondered if this trend, started even with my generation, I'd say, has led to fewer inventions. Or look at the seeming lack of creativity even in Hollywood - how excited do you get when a movie or TV show is truly different than the others that you've seen? Is it because we have really come up with all the ideas that exist or because people are less able to formulate new concepts? My son has an amazing imagination right now, despite his abundance of toys and probably too much TV. I try to find things for him to do that aren't set in stone, and I praise him when he creates toys or games or stories out of nothing. It's not easy, though, and I worry that I'll take the easy way too often, plopping him in front of my old friend television. I worry that the schools will try to conform his uniqueness out of him with set activities and aptitude tests. And I wonder what will happen when his generation is responsible for encouraging the imaginations of their children. Let's keep our kids in that land where all things are possible for as long as we can! My friend who found a set of "just Legos" showed it to her 9-year-old, Lego-freak nephew who had never conceived of such of a thing. The prospect of making "whatever I wanted!" thrilled him. So there's hope for these kids after all.

Jami on the Why of Parenting

My my, half a month since I've posted. So busy, it's true. Today my sister-in-law and I discussed the idea that so-called "stay-at-home" moms rarely get to. She suggested the term "in the car" moms, which sounds more reasonable. Or "Sometimes I get to stop by my house long enough to clean it" moms. I noticed awhile ago that many of us moms seem to spend time half-jokingly complaining about our kids/duties/lives. And I wonder if those who don't have children think we dislike being parents. I also know that lots of people hate it when someone says that being a parent is the hardest job there is, because let's face it - there are jobs that are physically more demanding (though I haven't had one that is), careers that require more formal education or a certain type of learning ability, occupations that are at least as emotionally challenging if not harder (pediatric oncologist, for one). I think, though, that the difficulty in parenting is that it's constant, it's rewards are less immediate and tangible and the idea that if you screw it up, you're messing up a person. There's not a manual or a "right" way to do just about every part of it. No one really can train you because even someone who as 10 kids never had your kid. So then, you're asking, why did you do it and more importantly, why did you do it again? If having kids is such a chore, heartache and stress, why does anyone have a second one? or more?? And I actually spent the last couple of days, when I had a few moments (in the shower, feeding Finn in the middle of the night) to try to answer that. The best answer I can give you is, I can't tell you. Not that I don't know, but that I can't describe it to you. Imagine that you had never seen a sunrise, not even a photo or drawing. Plenty of folks had described it you, sounds nice enough, but you don't like to get up early, and your house doesn't have a good east-facing window, so you'd have to actually get up, get out of bed, get dressed, go outside, find a good place to watch it - seems like too much work. Then one day, I convince you to give it a go. We get up early, even though we're still beat. We get dressed and drive to this place where there is supposed to be a really spectacular sunrise. Now you've inconvenienced yourself, spent time, energy, money and all this and you're wishing you had just slept in, when we come around the bend and BAM! There it is: the world's most beautiful sunrise, ever. While we watch it, you're not thinking that your bed would be warmer and comfier, or that gas prices are high enough without driving all over for no good reason. You're not thinking that you could have just looked at some pretty painting and it would have been close enough. You are totally in the beauty of that perfect moment as the sun colors the sky in all its brilliance and a new day has started. That's parenting. It's tiring and frustrating and expensive and unending. But even in the moments when you're considering FedExing your children to Zimbabwe, you have in your heart the indescribable joy of knowing, loving and just plain old having your children. And that's why we do it.

Jami the Paranoiac

I'm certain that I've mentioned in previous posts that I am a bit overly paranoid. Nothing in my life, childhood or upbringing stands out as an event that would cause this, it just seems to have developed slowly over my life. I would guess that my love of reading true crime and marrying a man who studied criminal justice probably contributed, however. A prime example happened a few days ago, when I found a package on the front porch. I picked it up, turned around and was walking through the door when I noticed that the box had a handwritten label, and came from a name/address I didn't recognize. Instantly I turned around and began taking the package back outside. Not because I didn't think it was for me, but because that's a big hallmark of mail bombs. Then I saw the second name on the address label and recognized that name, and went back in. The package contained a definitely non-explosive baby blanket. The thing is, I am not really a prime target for letter bombs. I know that I learned the signs of packages that might blow up when working at a radio station (which never had had a mail bomb, but media outlets are more likely to receive such things), but I'd have to guess most postal bombers aren't going to go after a stay-at-home mom who is currently involved in such major controversies as "Should the Sunday School kids be allowed to perform a Christmas rap at the annual dinner theater night?" I'm not a lightning rod for assassination attempts. But I still look out for them. I always remember the first time I heard someone say "Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not after you" and the line from the Princess Bride: "I always assume everything is a trap; it's why I'm still alive". I know from reading my true crime books that a fair number of crimes could have been avoided by a little more paranoia on the victim's part. Or at least a good healthy skepticism. And we can't know what bad things my paranoid reactions may have prevented, either. That time I got off the elevator because I felt hinky about the guy who got on after me - maybe I avoided being a crime victim that night, maybe not - we'll never know. One of my biggest challenges as a parent is teaching my children a healthy paranoia. I want them to be aware, but not nuts. Wary, but not terrified. I could easily turn my kids into raging agoraphobics who refuse to leave my side, but while that might make me feel better, it does them a grave disservice. Insane as it makes me sound, I'm trying to raise them to be fearless. I'm not afraid of snakes, spiders, the dark, heights, public speaking or most of the things on the list of "normal" fears and I want them to have that same boldness. But I also want them to be wise, skeptical of strangers and stories that don't make sense, careful about situations that could spiral out of control. It's a fine line, I know, and I doubt anyone walks it perfectly. So we'll have to wait and see how well I do.

Jami Wishes She Was 3 Weeks Old

Finn's schedule for today so far: Wake up. Eat. Toot with incredible volume/duration and no shame. Be dressed in a warm, cuddly PJ style outfit. Nap. Poop. Car ride. Nap. Eat. Poop. Be cuddled. This is pretty much going to repeat, in random order, for the rest of the day. Sounds like a good gig to me. Also included are people telling you you're adorable, being carried around and having your picture taken. I could so handle that.

Jami Waxes Thoughtful

I haven't blogged much lately, starting with vacation where I didn't have internet access and really, as much as I love to write, just didn't have it in me to dig out the laptop and commit thoughts to the virtual paper. Of course, getting back from vacation also meant laundry, cleaning and getting ready for our fall schedule. And, oh yeah, this here baby that will apparently be born at some point. With all that and the ability to commit brief thoughts to FaceBook, I just haven't been here as much. I do think of blog posts, mostly as I am drifting off to a restless slumber each night, but by morning, the posts in my head have slipped away. Naps are big now, I need them to avoid falling asleep while cooking or driving. Writing is one of my joys, and one of my sanity-keepers, and yet, how is it that it is one of the first things I let slip away? Do I really *need* to check my FaceBook Farmville Farm one more time instead of brain dumping into a blog? Logically no, but the farm I can manage while watching mindless shows, and the blog I feel required to put creative effort into. I actually got to read entire books while on vacation, reading while giving them my entire undivided attention for more than 3 minutes at a time, a rare luxury indeed. It felt as though I'd found an old friend living next door who I thought had moved to Abu Dhabi. This past weekend I went out for drinks (okay, soft drinks for me) with a few former coworkers. An event which had been so commonplace I never gave it two thoughts in a row became a major event for me: food and drinks with adults, and since they were guys, no mommy talk. I guess I am thinking about how the things I used to consider normal and essential for my mental health are now rare treats. Also long, hot bubble baths. What else has slipped away with barely a notice? Don't get me wrong, there are new things that to some extent have replaced some of these - mom's night out, though only once a month and with lots of mommying talk has replaced drinks with the guys. MOPS definitely keeps me from wanting to drive my car off a bridge. You can't beat cuddling with a sleepy toddler. It happened so fast and so slow. I had almost not noticed, and yet couldn't miss it. This is how our lives change.

Jami and the Mothering Skills

If we're being truthful, all moms will admit that we have our moments that we're glad CYS didn't see - one in particular for me, when my son decided he would play "doggie" stripped down to his skivvies, attached the dog's leash and was drinking out of the bowl in the backyard when I found him. I am not certain, but I'd guess that if the neighbors had called and said that we had our toddler chained up in the back, in his tighty-whities drinking out of a dog bowl that we'd at least get a brief visit from a nice social worker. Every mom I've had a conversation with has admitted to saying or doing something and almost instantly regretting it. We're human, unfortunately. So it's no wonder that we will all ourselves the question, at some point, "Am I being a good enough mom?" If you don't ask that, then I really would wonder if you are. Then we have the times like this morning, where I was stiting on the floor, playing Legos with Eddie and decided to put the TV on to listen to while we played (partially because playing Eddie often turns into watching Eddie, but not being allowed to touch any of the Legos because I'm "doing it wrong"). I happened upon a show called "Toddlers and Tiaras" which the Husband had TiVo'd for me. I enjoy the teen-adult pageants and I absolutely abhor the itty-bitty-kiddy ones. Even knowing that the Husband set this up to get me all riled, I started it up. The first mom starts off seeming oh-so-reasonable. Her four-year-old has only been to 5 or 6 pageants and the little girls says "Sometimes we don't win and that's okay. We just say 'Oh well'. And then sometimes we do win and we get very excited." The mom follows up by saying that they never "practice" more than 15 minutes at a time and they don't force her to do anything she doesn't want to. Hmmm,I think, could this be the Voice of Reason for this show? No. Of course not. In what I can only call snarky editing, the next scene is her yelling at the little girl for not practicing her "slow walk" and then threatening to send her to bed in the middle of the afternoon because she doesn't want to "play pageant" any more. Sigh. Then they go buy 2 dresses that "start at" $650, though we aren't given an actual figure. Then they go to *private* dance class, so she can work on her poise and "pretty feet". Hmmmph. And still - this was the more reasonable mom, I thought. After watching what I can only call the train-wreck-style of parenting, I feel confident that I am one seriously kick-butt mom. And I find myself justified in offering just a few tips to the parents (yes, there were dads into this, too - one in particular who was worse than the mom): 1. Your 4-year-old should never EVER be wearing false eyelashes, a bikini and suggestively shaking her hips. There can be no justification for your toddler to be sashaying around like a drunken Britney Spears. Never. 2. 2 year-olds don't have "life ambitions" or "life goals" so let's drop that little bit of nonsense. They've barely had a LIFE, let alone the capacity to make plans. "Charlene loves animals and her life's goal is to become a veterinarian"?? No. Charlene needs to learn to use the potty and her ABCs. Charlene's life ambition is to stay up past 7:30 and eat an entire bag of lollipops when you're not looking. 3. If your child is less than a week old, he/she does NOT need to be competing. Seriously, they showed a THREE DAY OLD baby competing in the fancy dress competition. 3 day-olds don't "enjoy the pageants"'; they don't like dressing up. They like eating, pooping and being cuddled. 4. No child needs a dress that costs more than a used car. The grand prize in this pageant was $500. The woman who makes the custom-made sequined-covered monstrosities these children were shoved into said that they start at $650, but are usually more. So, even if you are the ONE winner in this pageant of maybe 100 girls, you lose $150 just on the clothing, and don't forget the dance lessons, "bathing outfit", hair pieces (most had one), fake teeth (for those in various stage of normal teeth-losing), make up artists (several girls had pros - even the 5 year-olds), the mani-pedi (they all had), and of course the time, effort and money getting to the pageant - oh - plus entry fees. So I'd guess, if you're lucky and you win the whole shebang, you're down only $1000-$1500 for the day. Whoo hoo. You win. Lastly, on a really serious note - you are encouraging your baby girls to be sexy. Not only is this sick and wrong and encouraging to pedophiles everywhere, but look, you've got a seriously limited amount of time when your little ones are actually little. If you want to play dress up at home and let her spin around in a big fluffy princess dress with sparkly shoes, that's great. Get her a whole box of boas and tiaras and fairy wings and let her go nuts. But mid-drift baring bathing suits, gowns where they can't put their arms down, so much make up that you yell at them if they cry because they're going to mess it up - these aren't things preschoolers should even know about. No kindergartner should have to sit still for eyelash curling or lip-lining. No one who can't even cross the street alone should know how to walk in high heels. Don't grow them up so fast, because they will spend the rest of their lives being grown up. Let her decide to compete in the pageants when she's old enough to handle the rejection and you've taught her the many other valuable parts of herself. And for the love of all that is holy, stop doing the routine in the back of the room facing her while she's on stage. You're just making yourself even more ridiculous.

Jami Answers to Mommy

You know it's bad when you catch yourself sorting socks and saying "Eddie, Eddie, Mommy, Eddie, Mommy" even when you're alone. I'm not one of those mothers who has lost her identity completely, I still have friends, interests, even occasional outings that have nothing to do with motherhood. But definitely, mommying takes over your life in a way nothing else possibly can. I can remember being desperate to hear "Mama" fall from Eddie's lips. Any honest mom will tell you about waiting for that first child to call you Mommy. You daydream about it. You wonder when it will happen; you "sort of" hear it in the ramblings and then suddenly - there it is! The first "Mama"! Your baby knows you, acknowledges you as a person! I bet 99% of us, if we're telling the truth, will have to admit to tearing up a little. Eddie actually said "Mum" because he went through a phase where he shortened all words to one syllable. I remember it. Before long it was Mommy. And then comes the day when you think if I hear "Mommmmeeeeeee" one more time, I'm getting on the next plane leaving this city for anywhere. One brilliant friend of mine told her two boys that her name was no longer Mommy. If they could guess what her new name is, then she'd answer. She had a nice quiet dinner. It pains me, to some extent, to think how that grates on me some days, because I know how horribly I'll miss it when I'm just "Mom" or "uh, hunh, whatever". Mommy is such a short-lived title, in the scheme of things. How many of you call your mom "Mommy"? I try to remind myself of that on the days when I'm thinking of gagging him, just for a few hours . . . We need to live in the moment to love our lives, but sometimes we get so caught in the moment that we forget that it is, just a moment - fleeting and precious.

Jami, The Mom

How much of a mommy am I? Flipping through the Fredrick's catalog, I saw this shirt,

and thought . . .

"That would probably be convenient for breastfeeding."

Jami on Display

Before we had Eddie, I really never gave much consideration to what the neighbors thought about us. Mostly, because I had no reason to. If I had to guess at that time, I'd say the neighbors would describe us as a nice, friendly professional couple. We had the very occasional party, not too loud, no drunks staggering up the street after; we kept our lawn mowed and leaves raked and we chatted with the neighbors when we were out and about. Nothing particularly unusual. But, as I mentioned, I don't think I ever even gave it a moment's thought. Now, though, I often wonder what they must think about what goes on in this house. For example, Let's say Eddie and I are playing cars in the living room and I need to go to the restroom. I will tell him that I need to "go potty" and I'll be right back. Then I go upstairs and pretty much inevitably, as soon as I am "settled", shall we say, he will start screaming "MOMMY!!! MOMMY!" Usually followed by either "where are you?" or "what are you doing?" In either case, I usually start with "I'm upstairs, I'll be right down." He never needs anything. He's never injured. He just keeps yelling and asking questions until I am forced to scream "I'M GOING POTTY!!!" Which is great during open window season. I can just picture the neighbors exchanging glances, "oh good, Jami is going potty now. I was wondering." There was the time during my first trimester of this pregnancy when I was outside by the garbage vomiting so forcefully that it caused me to wet my pants, which surprised me so much I stopped vomiting long enough to look down at myself and verify that yes, I had wet. Then, of course, back to the vomiting. I can only assume the neighbors were worried that I had started drinking too early in the day (this was before I was showing and telling). I know the neighbors hear it when Eddie pitches a fit or when I can't take it anymore and scream "STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!!!" I worry that they hear the very odd things one says to a toddler "No, we don't put that in our nose", "Who peed in these pants?" "STOP licking the dog, I'm not going to tell you that again!!!" My only consoling factor is that all the neighbors also have kids, grown or little. The moms at least, have probably been the one announcing to the world that they are on the toilet or threatening tiny lives. Maybe the ones whose children are raving teens smile nostalgically remembering the days when the worst trouble their offspring got into was licking the dog. I like to think so.

Jami, the Mother of an Inventor

Eddie's new "thing" is inventing. He has always been a fan of attaching things to other things, but now each group of random objects is an invention, and they have been growing larger and more intricate. Currently, our entire front porch is consumed with his "best invention" (pictures below) which according to him makes honey and traps deer. Yes, both. This invention includes 6 full sized umbrellas, two chairs, a charcoal grill, a backpack, a yo-yo, a golf club, two supports from his toy box, a large tree branch (with withering leaves), several seemingly random toys, a kitchen set, a work bench, 2 baby blankets, a monkey, several flowers, a tricycle and a stroller. And more I can't remember. Then under the heading of "seemed harmless at the time", the Husband bought Eddie a roll of twine, which he's been asking for. The string started out as part of the invention, and then wandered into our house. By dinner time last night, our entire downstairs looked as though we had been attacked by a giant, drunken spider. We had to do that spy-getting-through-the-lasers maneuver to get to the kitchen. I didn't get a picture of that because my phone was upstairs and I wasn't going back through the maze to get it. I'm a big fan of creativity, so I'm trying not to complain about my front porch being useless (as in, there's no where for me to sit anymore) because I enjoy the fact that he's creating and pretending. So far, I have not seen any actual honey being produced nor deer trapped. I keep hoping though, because if I have a 3-year-old who does figure out how to manufacture "cruelty free" honey and/or trap those pesky deer, we're set for life. We'll let you know. Working on adding the golf club: The end that the honey (supposedly) comes out: The middle, still in progress: The second chair/"Secret Entrances" - you have to lift an umbrella to enter.