Love Letters to and from the Bored Jar

I made the Princess a Bored Jar. Why? Because the kid is always. bored.

Seriously? There is nothing to do in this house.
(Photo by Grandma.)

"Mom. Play with me. Mom? Play with me. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom? MOM. MOM! Play with me!"

Look, I'm not saying I hate to play with my kid or anything (OK, maybe I am saying that Barbies? Bore the daylight out of me. Yeah. I said it). But you know, I've got another kid to deal with, and dinner to cook, and work to catch up on, and laundry to fold, and a husband to interact with, and it's my turn on all 13 of my Draw Something games so yeah, I can't play with you all the time.

It's healthy for kids to learn independent, creative play, right? I don't remember my mom playing with me all that much and look how great I turned out.

The Princess was an only child for 4 1/2 years, and I was a work-at-home mom for several of those years, so you would think she'd be an independent play pro by now. And she is, once you get her going, but her basic temperament doesn't really make it easy on her. She's a social butterfly and if I really loved her I'd have had at least 6 kids back to back so she wouldn't be so lonely all the time.

So. I found this "Mom, I'm Bored! Jar" on Pinterest. I won't bore you with a whole tutorial or anything, because it's kind of my policy around here to not be any more useful than I have to be. Nor will I claim credit, because it's kind of my other policy not to have any original ideas around here. So you should really go visit the Somewhat Simple blog and check it out, because that's where I got it.

Mine is not this cute. Mine is also made from an old pickle jar, so BONUS, the slips all smell like pickles.
source

It's a jar full of slips of paper with activities on them. And also...chores!! Every time the words "I'm bored" emerge from your kid's lips, she has to pull a slip from the Bored Jar. I didn't use Somewhat Simple's list of activities, I just made my own, and I made A LOT of them. I used some of her ideas, added some of my own, went through my "kid activities" Pinterest board and added some of those. I tried to keep them for the most part independent activities that she could do on her own.

Here's my Word file; feel free to download it, edit it, do whatever you want with it. Just don't sell it without giving me a cut. Some of these are specific to our house, so if your bored kid doesn't have a Leapster or a baby brother, you'll need to change those slips. Or buy a Leapster and bear a male child. Your call, really.

Our jar is mostly fun activities, with a smattering of chores. And guess what! If you say you're bored, you MUST pull a slip from the jar, and once you pull a slip from the jar, you MUST do what it says! (The exception would be if she pulls something like "paint your nails with mom or dad" and mom and dad are busy doing other things, or pulls an outdoor activity on a rainy day; mom and dad have veto power in these cases and we just pull another slip.)

But there's no whining allowed. So think twice before you come to me saying you're bored.

On day one, she was so excited about the jar that she actually brought it to me 3 times. Two of those times she pulled "do one chore of mom's choice." I did not rig the jar, I promise. But I did make her clean up the doggie doo in the back yard and empty the dishwasher. And she did both. Without whining.

She's still pretty excited about the jar and willing to risk pulling a chore, because she has gotten lots of fun things, like "draw the cutest animal you can think of," "make your brother laugh," "make a necklace out of pasta," and "write a letter." All things I might have suggested in the past, but it carries so much more weight when it's pulled from a jar, right?

When she pulled "write a letter" last night I figured it would be good practice writing. She's turning 6 next week and she's in kindergarten, so she's learning a lot but I don't really think of her as an independent writer yet, you know? Normally if we write anything I'm there helping her spell stuff. So I told her to just go in the playroom and do her very best to sound out the words she wanted, without asking for help.

I wasn't giving her enough credit.

Because this is what I got:

I. Officially. Love. The Bored Jar.

Text Message...well, Wednesday. The get fit edition.

Remember Text Message Tuesday? Remember Ashley? Of course you do.

Here we go:

Alyssa says
i worked out this morning. on the elliptical. i got up EARLY and WORKED OUT.

[Editor's note: this elliptical.]

Editor's note: NOT. ME.

Ashley says
And I'm eating Carmelita's for breakfast. What a strange turn of events.

Alyssa says
indeed.
oh, also? I'M DRINKING WATER.
i mean, i had my morning dew, obviously, but instead of cracking open another one right after, i chose water.

Ashley says
Oh my. What's gotten into you?

Alyssa says
i was possessed by some weird wild idea last night to step on the scale.

Ashley says
Oh

Alyssa says
i did not like what i saw. at. all.
so how are your carmelitas? what ARE carmelitas?

Ashley says
I'm not sure I should tell you.

Alyssa says
whatever, there are donuts for sale 10 feet from here. if i can resist those i can resist your carmelitas description.

Ashley says
I pinned them a few days ago. It's Carmel and chocolate and yummy crust all smooshed together. So good
I'm going to finish the pan so that they're gone. Then I'm starting my diet.

Alyssa says
but not better than oatmeal squares and water, right?

Ashley says
Um, no way. So gross compared to that.
How long did you elliptical for?

Alyssa says
haha. i'm not telling because it's shameful. i did as much as i could, ok? considering i haven't worked out in, oh, 6 or 7 years.

Ashley says
Come on.

Alyssa says
no way! my husband already made fun of me, i don't need it from you too. just be proud that i DID it.

Ashley says
I will be! Tell me! What was it? 5 minutes?

Alyssa says
like, imagine i'm one of those huge women who has to be lifted by crane, and i just got out of bed and walked upstairs. YAY!!!

Ashley says
No, cuz you're not one of those women.

Alyssa says
it was 10 minutes, dude.

Ashley says
Okay, 10 minutes is great! Good job!

Alyssa says
You are such a liar.
i'm pretty sure on the inside, i AM one of those women. i was trying to remember the last time i exercised and i actually CANNOT remember.

Ashley says
I remember. You got on a kick last summer and went walking a few times.

Alyssa says
hahaha. walking. that doesn't even count. everybody walks.

Ashley says 
I think I tried to tell you that at the time and you were all "but I made a drop of sweat! It counts!"

Alyssa says
i was lying to myself. you know that.
and really, i guess for a woman who has to be lifted by crane, it DOES count. but this counts WAY MORE.

***

It totally DOES, right you guys? I'm going to drop those 5 or 10 or 30 pounds in NO TIME, right?? Right?

How to Wean a Toddler (who does not want to be weaned)

The Princess, age 2. Probably thinking about my boobs.

People? I nursed the Princess for 25 months. That's two years and one month, for you English majors (I'm an English major, I can say that).

Yeah. Imagine a two year old. Now imagine breastfeeding that two year old. Yay!

I know I'm not the only one out there who nursed my toddler, but sometimes people can make you feel like you are, right? I mean, breastfeed in public (gasp) past about 6 months and you start getting the stink eye. So moms, know that you're not alone and it's totally cool to breastfeed your two-year-old. It is. In fact it's beautiful and wonderful and admirable and awesome.

That's not what this post is about.

This post is about that moment when you look down at the gargantuan child in your lap, latched on and watching Blue's Clues out of her peripheral vision, and think, "I have had enough."

Here's the thing about my daughter. She didn't sleep. Ever. At all. From the moment we brought her home, she fought sleep. I quickly discovered the only thing that would lull her into actual slumber: nursing. Yes, I know what the books say about nursing babies to sleep. But it worked, and I was a sleep-deprived, post-partum-depressed, first-time mother. I went with it.

To the point that, though I'd never planned to cosleep, she moved right into bed with me so she could nurse all. night. long.

To the point that as she got bigger and started talking, she actually referred to the act of nursing as "nigh-night."

To the point that I spent hours every evening lying on my bed in the dark with my toddler nursing and nursing and nursing, trying to trick her into falling asleep. My friends never saw me; if we had people over, I disappeared at 7 p.m. and often didn't return. Because when I finally did succeed in getting this little Princess to sleep, I had to sneak silently and stealthily from the bed and the room, praying that she'd stay asleep. Because if I disturbed her, and she woke? We started all over.

It was insane.

When she turned 2, I had had enough. It had to stop. But how? She was so dependent upon it. Nursing was her security blanket, her binky, her everything. How could I tear it away from her? This thing that had been a source of comfort and solace her entire life, how could I just...take it?

Nursing had always been a positive experience, and I couldn't bring myself to end it on a negative note.

I tried. I tried to tell her that it was time to be a big girl, to sleep with a cup of water and a teddy bear and a special blanket and special goodnight music. I read books, I scoured the internet, I called my mother. I tried everything. I tried cradling her with the cup of water, then a cup of warm milk. I tried rocking her. I tried letting her cry.

But this was a 2-year-old child I was dealing with. They're not known for being, you know, compliant and easy to change. And she was set in her ways. Nothing worked.

So this is what I did.

One day, we went to Target and I had her pick out a special sippy cup. Now, to be clear, she'd been drinking from cups forever at this point. She drank cow's milk during the day and with meals. The nursing was only when she needed to sleep. So we picked out a special, one-of-a-kind "big girl" cup. A nigh-night cup. I told her she couldn't use it now, because she was still a baby. But someday, she'd need it.

I put it up on a shelf where she could see it but not reach it. We talked about it. For about a week, we talked about how when big girls go to bed, they use a big girl cup instead of mommy's, ahem, "nigh-nights."

I told her that nigh-nights are for babies. And it only tastes good for babies. I told her that when she's a big girl, nigh-nights won't taste good anymore.

We did this for about a week. Every night we had this conversation.

"Are you ready for nigh-night?"

"NIGH-NIGHT," she'd say, tugging at my shirt.

"OK. I wonder if you're a big girl yet?"

She'd look at me suspiciously.

"Do you think this will still taste good?"

"YES."

"Hmm. Well, we'll see."

Then she'd nurse to sleep.

Until one night, something was different.

Because friends? I put vinegar on my nipples.

I snuck into the kitchen before bedtime and poisoned the water hole, if you will. I actually tucked vinegar-soaked cotton right into my bra, just to be sure it stayed fresh. Then I went and picked her up and cuddled her just like I always had. Kissed her and played with her and read her a story.

"Are you ready for nigh-night?"

"NIGH-NIGHT!"

"I wonder if you're a big girl yet? Do you think it will taste good?"

"YES."

"Hmm. Well, let's see."

She latched on. She pulled off. She looked at me, wide-eyed and shocked. "Mommy! Nigh-nights YUCKY!" Then she dissolved into hysterical giggles. "YUCKY nigh-nights!"

I acted as surprised as she was. "What? Really?? Do you want to try again?? Are you SURE?"

"YUCKY NIGH-NIGHTS! Want my big girl cup. I a big girl! Big girl cup!"

We had to do it once more the following night. Just to be sure. But then? It was over. And I had a big girl.

WAHMs have all the fun. And also all the work. Or whatever.

I don't talk much about my work in this space. But it's something that's been weighing on my mind a lot lately.

I love my job. I do. I get to handle the social media presence of a university, and it's really a wonderful adventure. I oversee a staff of fantastic student bloggers who amaze me every day with their insight and personality and passion for life. And I get paid to spend large parts of my day on Facebook and on Twitter and reading great blogs. How many people can say that?

So all things considered, I truly love what I do. But the thing is, I have these kids, you know?

The Monster, 17 months

The Princess, turning 6 this month!

And, well...I miss them when I'm at work.

When I became pregnant with my daughter almost 7 years ago, I was able to convert my job from full-time to half-time. I was very happy with that schedule. Yes, it required considerable sacrifice, because I gave up half my salary along with half my hours, and frankly, I did not give up half my workload; I had to do almost as much work in half the time, for half the pay. But we made it work, and I believed it was worth the sacrifices. I felt kind of balanced and whole.

After two years of that, some of my job duties shifted and I agreed to come back full-time, on the condition that I would be allowed to work 20 of my hours from home. This? Was kind of wonderful. I got my full salary back, and enough hours in the day to do my job without giving myself a heart attack, but I still had the flexibility and freedom to be at home with my daughter for many of her daylight hours. And my entire family thrived.

Working from home certainly has its own set of challenges. Teaching my toddler to entertain herself so Mommy could work was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. But I did it, and I think she's better for it. She's strong and independent and creative and imaginative, and I was there to see all of that. I also received nearly perfect performance evaluations during this time; the autonomy of my schedule really brought out the best in me, at home and at work.

When my son was born I continued this half-time in the office, half-time at home schedule, and once again had to reevalute my time management and routines, but again, I made it work.

Things have changed recently, though. My workplace no longer allows telecommuting. So last summer I had to rearrange my life one more time, find full-day childcare, and now I'm in the office all day every day.

It's hard. As much as I love my job, I miss the work-at-home mom I used to be. I miss getting up and booting up my laptop in my pajamas, snuggling with my kids while they watch cartoons and eat breakfast and I check my email and start my day. I miss watching my daughter teach her baby brother how to walk, talk, and play. I miss so many of these moments now, and it's difficult.

OK, maybe I don't so much miss "Moooooommmm, I'm huuuuuuungry" just as I begin a conference call. But overall, I do miss being a work-at-home mom. I'm not saying it's easy; just that, for me, it's worth it.

I'm hopeful that there are solutions still waiting to be found. That this is a temporary crossroads in my life, this full-time office job. As much as I adore what I do, I can't shake the knowledge that I could be doing it just as effectively and so much more contentedly from my home. The knowledge that I am committed to my career, but my career is not who I am. The knowledge that my babies are growing up and I'm missing much of it.

Are you a working mom? A work-at-home mom? A work-away-from-home mom? How do you find balance? And are there still opportunities out there to make a real living working from home?

What say you?

dookie

Dookie (U.S. Version)

This one's a classic, kids.

The year is 1994.  A certain girl living in a small Nor-Cal town is about to turn 13.  From behind braces, stringy brown hair and a navy blue hoodie she surveys the world and decides:  it sucks.  She writes poetry riddled with teen angst but she has a musical soul--until now she's found solace in the subversive lyrics and hard-driving beats of '60s rock, but she knows there must be something more.  As much as she loves The Who, this is her parents' music, and she knows without a doubt that what she's feeling is something her parents just...don't....get.

She needs something that's hers, something they won't understand...and then, one day, she turns on the radio, and there it is.  A '90s punk teen anthem....

Do you have the time...to listen to me whine...about nothing and everything all at once...

What was the first song/album you remember really "identifying" with when you were growing up?

Tips for traveling with my kid.

Today after school, the Princess is embarking on her first trip without me. Grandma is taking her to Disneyland, folks. Her Auntie Jen is going, too. Mama's staying home because I have to work. Boo.



I've prepared the following list to help my mother deal with my high-maintenance delightful 5 year old for 3 days and 2 nights alone, including a pair of 6-hour car rides:

1. We taught her the ABC car game, where you look for all the letters on signs from A to Z. She likes it better if you each take turns finding a letter and work as a team, instead of competing. She gets confused and frustrated if you get ahead of her.
2. She likes to play 20 questions. Except it's more like "as many questions as it takes to figure out she's thinking of the castle at Disneyland yet again" or "as many questions as it takes for her to figure out you're not thinking of the castle at Disneyland."  Really, it's probably just easier if you think of the castle at Disneyland, ok?
3. Lately she’s liked to do math in the car. She’ll seriously be happy for an hour straight if you just keep asking her “what’s 4 + 8?” etc. She’s getting pretty good at addition. This will be the most intellectually stimulating hour of your life, no doubt.
4. I’ve printed a million Disney coloring pages and car bingo, and bought her a new sticker book, and her Leapster has fresh batteries. Feel free to tell her you need some quiet time and she needs to amuse herself with the many, many activities in her backpack instead of talking your ear off. Because talking your ear off will always be her #1 choice unless you tell her not to.
5. As far as I know she doesn't get carsick. I mean, she never has. But if you discover otherwise, well...better you than me.
6. Watch her brush & floss or she won’t do it and say she did.
7. Lunch is at 12:00. She asked me to tell you this. She was concerned you wouldn't know when to feed her. She also eats breakfast and dinner, in case you weren't clear about her unique dietary requirements.
8. I packed a lot of snacks, but you should probably moderate her intake of them. Maybe this seems like a given, but seriously, if you leave the snack bag within her reach, it will be empty when you reach your destination. Also, see #5. Preventative measures.
9. She does not have to drink juice all the time. Water is actually fine. She does not hate water, no matter what she tells you.
10. She’s not allergic to anything, including vegetables and elephants, no matter what she tells you. 

I think that should cover it. Have fun!

Death and taxes and husbands griping about shoes.

Our tax refund has arrived.

My husband tHe O.G. recently bought a new computer. When I say "bought" a "computer" I mean he went online and spent $1300 and then over the course of a week a parade of UPS boxes arrived on our doorstep containing mysterious, futuristic objects with names like motherboard and power supply and flux capacitor.

This is how my husband buys computers.

This.

Not this.

I'm assuming the enormous, noisy machine now on his desk is somehow capable of intergalactic travel or something equally impressive.

So. Since he got to have all this computery fun, after we pay off some debts, the balance of the tax refund is mine. All mine.


tHe O.G.: "Since I bought my computer and you gave me very little hassle, I'm not going to give you any grief about what you buy. It's your money."

me: "Thank you."

him: "Unless you buy shoes.""

me: "Oh. I'm buying shoes."

him: "What?! You don't need more shoes!"

me: "I need shoes."

him: "I think you should look at the shoes you have first..."

me: "I'm fully aware of what shoes I have."

him: "I don't think you are."

You guys? I so am.

I can't wait to buy some shoes.

Toms ballet flats.

computer images sources: This. Not this.