DotMoms

An open letter to Ms. Winfrey

Dear Oprah,

I happen to like you. I think your show brings a lot of good and important subjects to light. I appreciate how much you've given back to the world with your time, money and resources. And I think for someone with your influence and wealth, you've managed to keep your head on pretty straight. That said, I have a bone to pick with you. (You knew I was leading up to something, right?)

It was all good until I sat down one night to watch your show, which my DVR records faithfully each day while I slave away at the office. The show opened with an intriguing panel of people who claim to have The Secret to life. I must admit, I got a little nervous. After all, it was February, which means it was sweeps month and all of TV gets a little bit crazy during sweeps months (Meredith Grey even died for a moment on "Grey's Anatomy"! Crazy.)

I fast-forwarded through the commercials and got back to business. The panelists described The Secret in their own words. According to Rhonda Byrne, who wrote the book (and now it's a movie, too), this is it: The principle that "like attracts like... The principle explains that we create our own circumstances by the choices we make in life. And the choices we make are fueled by our thoughts -- which means our thoughts are the most powerful things we have here on earth."

Oprah, my friend, this is so not a Secret. This is the basis for most religions. All self-help books. And a lot of "Dr. Phil" episodes. Remember him? The author's bio for "The Secret" even acknowledges that "the concepts could be found in almost every religion and field of human endeavor throughout history." Whether or not Ms. Bryne thinks it was a Secret, you, Oprah, must realize that it's not. At least half the "lightbulb moments" discussed on your show are based on this Secret.

But you let those panelists sit there and act like this was the most fascinating news they'd ever heard. Life changing. Women got up and "testified" to how the Secret changed their lives. I sat on the couch, perplexed and disappointed.

It's certainly catchy, calling it a Secret. Ripe for sweeps month and apparently a ratings bonanza, since you covered the topic a second time during the same month. I'm not questioning whether it's a legitimate topic; I'm sure it is. Just as I'm sure there were viewers reminded of the importance of the "power of positive thinking." Oh yeah, Oprah, that's what Norman Vincent Peale called it back in 1952 when he wrote his bestselling book on the very same subject.

There are way too many important topics for you to be lending credibility to someone who simply regurgitated the values and concepts of what already exists in so many bigger, more important forms. It's a great topic. But a Secret, it is not.

Thanks for your time. Say hello to Gail for me. I really liked her Oscar dress!

Amy

Amy S. is a married, working mom to Olivia, and plans to one day retire, write a book and become a famous photographer.

Fairy tale ending

By Amy S.

I walked in the den recently and caught a glimpse of Olivia watching "Cinderella," her current favorite movie. She's been slow to warm up to movies, not one to sit for long before feeling compelled to find something more active to do. But this time, she was in deep concentration, legs folded under her, watching the fairy tale unfold the same way it has so many times before.

I stood for a moment to observe her, the grace of her tiny body, the focus on her face, and the occasional smiles as she internalized a funny moment. I was memorizing a moment I'd rewind again many times. One day she'll be a mouthy teen and I'll remember the days when "Cinderella" was easy entertainment. One day I'll quietly embrace her when a boy breaks her heart and she learns that fairy tales don't do justice to real, meaningful love.

This week's car conversation from preschool to home has been the same one over and over. "Mommy, when will I meet the boy I will love and marry?," she asks, as though there's the simplest answer in the world.

She's obsessed with marriage. The Cinderella, Snow White, Little Mermaid kind. The happily-ever-after kind. She recently asked me what marriage meant, and to keep it simple I told her that it meant you made a commitment to someone else and moved in with them to start a new family.

"You mean I can't live with you and daddy anymore?," she asked, genuinely concerned.

"Yes, honey. You get to start your own life and maybe have your own children one day," I said.

"But Mommy, I don't ever want to move away from you and daddy," she said, near tears.

We talked through it and she calmed down. I must admit, I was touched by her sweet attachment. And I am sure I will remember that conversation the day she tells us she is getting married. This growing up stuff can be bittersweet.

Amy S. is a married, working mom to 4-year-old Olivia, whose dream is to be a princess and live happily ever after.

What I'm teaching my daughter

By Amy S.

Dear Angry Parking-lot Lady,

A few years ago, before my daughter was born, my husband accidentally cut a man off while making a left turn. The man pulled up behind us at a stoplight, screaming and throwing water bottles onto the trunk of our car. Before I could stop myself, I got out of the car and yelled at him. We ended up in a full yelling match, him shouting obscenities while his family looked on. There were three children in his minivan.

As we drove away, all I could think about was what he was teaching his children. Eventually the adrenaline wore off and I began to think about the danger I had put myself in. Years later, I still wonder about his family every time I make a turn at that stoplight.

So when I became the brunt of your angry tirade, it hit home. As you shouted angrily at me, "I feel sorry for your daughter. Think about what you're teaching her," I couldn't let it go. It's one thing to yell at me for accidentally hitting your SUV with the door of my car. (Which, let's be honest, didn't leave a mark. So your outrage was a bit over the top.) It's another thing to start insulting the way I am raising my child.

The 12-year-old emotional girl who still lives inside me wants to go back in time. Like a petulant teenager I would have yelled, "Haven't you ever had a bad day? Needed to be given the benefit of the doubt? Why are you being mean to me?"

But the unsteady, ever-questioning Mom in me cried angry tears in a parking lot after the workout that was supposed to get your threatening rant out of my head. Our exchange left me raw and exposed. Every moment of lost patience came flooding back. What did I teach my child in that moment?

But I also wonder what made you break so easily. Why did it matter so much? What did you feel you gained by yelling at a complete stranger? And what did the child in the seat next to you absorb? What did you tell her when I drove away?

I told my daughter that sometimes people are mean. They say things that hurt. And it isn't right. And this is why we correct her when she is mean. What I didn't tell her is that if I had taken a moment to say a quick, "I'm sorry" as we walked by your door the first time, it might have blown out your anger instantly and ended the whole exchange.

I will tell her in the morning. And that is what I will teach my daughter.

Amy S. is a married, working mom who always thinks of good comebacks after the fact.

When discipline becomes isolating

By Amy S.

I thought I had a pretty easy child. And I know from talking to other parents and doing a lot of reading, that what we're experiencing with our 4-year-old isn't all that unusual. So how come it feels like we're the only ones dragging a kicking and screaming child out of endless public arenas? Birthday parties, pony rides and even a funeral, you name it and we've left it, embarrassed and frustrated.

The latest battlefield was a birthday party hosted at a busy farm. I tried the normal procedures: give options, give warnings, make expectations clear. But the options were exhausted when she hit me -- she knows that's a zero-tolerance offense. Unfortunately, I had to walk three blocks with her to the car. What fun it was weaving in and out of groups of staring parents and kids, because of course she was crying, screaming and pulling on me the whole way.

I admit it: I was mortified. I felt like a failure and worried about what her preschool teacher -- who was also present for her tantrum -- would think. I felt heat from the judging eyes of other mothers. I know some of them were watching with empathy; they've been there, too. But when it's you handling the screaming child in public, it feels like you're wearing the scarlet letter of bad parenting. (What letter would that be? A "B" for "Bratty child"?)

Did I do the right thing by our family parenting standards? My gut says yes. It would have been easier to let her get away with her behavior and avoid a public outburst. But even if we had gotten through the initial conflict unscathed, another one surely would have followed because she was tired and cranky. She was asleep for a nap five minutes after crawling in bed when we got home. And woke up her usual chipper self. I wish I could move on from her drama as quickly and easily as she can.

Handling my daughter's tantrums makes me feel isolated sometimes. It's hard to admit that my daughter still hits and kicks when she gets particularly angry. Most who know her don't witness that behavior, as she tends to save it for me and my husband. (Lucky us.) But lately it's been much more publicly displayed. I worry that people will judge her; begin to think of her as a "bad" child. And selfishly, I worry that people will think of us as bad parents.

Have you ever had a moment when you had to make a hard parenting decision in public? How can parents support one another when making tough discipline decisions?

Amy S. is a married, working mom to 4-year-old Olivia, who is quite possibly a "spirited" child.

"Laguna Beach" and bunko not as different as you might think

By Amy S.

I recently indulged in my secret love affair: I recorded a bunch of "Laguna Beach" re-runs, came home from an exhausting day of work and watched Kristen and Lauren glower at one another for 90 minutes. (Which is, like, you know, four episodes when you fast forward through the commercials!)

I'm fascinated by life as a rich teen virtually allowed to raise yourself. I'm simultaneously disgusted by how horrible high school is, even if you're rich and beautiful. (It still doesn't guarantee you'll get the boy -- just ask "Laguna Beach" alum L.C.)

The show reminds me of how catty women can be. We seem to pick up this skill in junior high, carefully craft it in high school, and mold it until it becomes part of normal life by the time we're adults. It makes me want to tie up my 3-year-old daughter and protect her from junior high and high school.

Truth is, cattiness still meows at us more mature ("Laguna Beach"-watching) women. For some reason, since moving in to a new neighborhood two years ago, I've been subjecting myself to a variety of activities to get to know people. I say, "for some reason" because honestly, I usually don't go for random activities with strangers. I tend to socialize in spurts and am just as happy in bed reading a book. Working helps too, there's plenty of good times and occasional catty-ness there.

Still, I go to my neighborhood's monthly bunko game, a classic scenario in which a woman must tread lightly and prepare for occasional ambush. (It's more than just rolling dice, it's social intrigue.) To be fair, most of the women who play are lovely people and mean no harm. But lovely women can be downright nasty given the right circumstances.

A friend and fellow neighborhood bunko attendee put it best recently, "It's a lot more fun if you drink while you play." So as "the new girl," I stay quiet, drink and take it in. The disses are more subtle outside of high school, but they're still there. And even at bunko, the "cool ones" stand out -- they get a little more tipsy, dress a little trendier and by the end of the night are a little bit too loud.

Sometimes I think I should keep "Laguna Beach" and show it to Olivia when she's a teenager. "See, it could be worse," I would say.

But by then, there will be other girls ruling MTV. That's the thing about life: There are always cattier, meaner girls waiting to pounce.

Amy S. is a 33-year-old married, working mom to Olivia, age three. She lives in Virginia.

Over-Thinking Mom?

by Amy S.

I'm trying to figure out whether to renew my Brain Child subscription. I've had a subscription for three years and it's a fantastic read. Informative, well-rounded reading from the vantage point of thinking moms. It's a fabulous publication, but do I need to take a step back from constantly being soaked in the thinking-moms genre?

Writing here at DotMoms, participating in a few online mom communities over time, and immersing myself in thoughtful parenting books, magazines, etc. has made me a much, much better mom than I might otherwise be. Just the exposure to the wide variety of parenting options these days is valuable. But it's the shared vunerability as a mother that I so appreciate.

Each time I'm at my wits end and feel I'm the only one about to explode over something as silly as poop or sleeping habits - I can log-on or open a page and discover another mom making her way through something similar. Perhaps that shared sense of desparation is the thing all moms have in common at some point. And together, we rally around one another and wait for the next challenging parenting phase.

So why slow down the "thinking mom" exposure? My daugher is three-years-old now and I'm not as "green" as I used to be. My husband and I have settled into a comfortable parenting style that works for us. (Which is not to say we don't need advice and help from time to time.) We have new opportunities to discuss parenting with friends who have children, with the preschool teachers at Olivia's school and with one another.

And honestly, sometimes it's slightly overwhelming to be so immersed in parenting topics. Parenthood in itself is plenty to keep up with and manage. Once you find your own way - I think it's good to take a step back and focus on your methods - tweak them and change as needed.

I appreciate Brain Child and other outlets for educating me about the higher responsibilities of being a parent, a working mother, a thinking citizen. If I do decide not to renew my subscription, I suspect I may go through some withdrawal. Thankfully, you'll all be there to feed my need to connect with other moms.

Are you immersed in the thinking-moms genre?

Amy S. is a 32-year-old married, working mom to Olivia, age three. She lives in Virginia.

The upside of working-momdom

By Amy S.

Guilt is too often the calling card of working moms. Society sends working moms -- all moms -- mixed signals. Stay-at-home moms are often treated as "less thans" and their work is often not valued as "real work." Working moms are chided for "wanting it all" and prioritizing work over their family. Ironically, if you asked a working mom why she's working, she'd probably mention her family first.

I enjoy working. Just putting that out there makes me feel like someone will judge me for it. But I admit it, I enjoy working. I love my job and the opportunities it provides to learn new things, challenge myself and be on a great team. That said, I have plenty of working-mom guilt. I spend my days walking a tightrope to balance family and career.

Lately, I've been thinking about the positive ways my working has influenced my daughter's life. (It's easy to focus on the financial positives, but I wanted to think outside of those, to the less obvious positives.) The older she gets, the more positives I am seeing. So I've listed a few here to remind myself on the days when the balancing act is a little more difficult:

1. Olivia has loving relationships with some very special adults outside of her family. She knows she can trust other adults to care for her and love her when her parents are not with her. She adores her daycare providers and preschool teachers.

2. Olivia's time with in-home providers and at preschool provides unique and fun opportunities. A firefighter recently came to her class to talk when they did a unit on community helpers. Recently, Olivia was in heaven when the preschool hosted "pony day." Her in-home provider takes her to storytime at the library, the neighborhood park, etc. I'm lucky because I know she's doing the very things I'd do if I was home with her.

3. Other providers have been instrumental in teaching Olivia so many things that we, particularly as first-time parents, wouldn't have even known how to teach her. (In many cases, we don't realize she's capable of learning things yet that her other providers DO know she's fully capable of!)

We were recently pleasantly surprised when she sat down at our computer and began using the mouse -- correctly! We tried a few times to teach her how to use a computer mouse, but it never stuck. She has computer time every Friday at preschool and they were the ones who have taught her so much of what she knows about the computer.

4. As parents, we have also learned so much from Olivia's providers and teachers. Whenever I have a question, they're the first ones I go to. They've had years of experience and also know her personality and what may work for her. That insight is better than any parenting book.

5. From what I've seen (and read), toddlers and preschoolers really appreciate and need order and a routine. Olivia seems to thrive on the routine that we follow as a working family. To be fair, I know many stay-at-home moms who excel at creating and sticking to a family routine. But speaking for myself, I'm afraid if I were at home, we'd have a sad excuse for a routine. Sending Olivia to daycare and eventually to preschool, forced us to create a routine that works for her. It's not a schedule -- and it's not set in stone -- but it does provide a general guideline for the day. It's comforting to her to generally know what comes next, and we've been following a similar routine since she was about three months old. (It just repeats far fewer times each day now that she's older!)

There are other positives of my being a working mom -- big and little -- for our family. But these are a good and important start.

Amy S. is a 32-year-old married, working mom to Olivia, age three. She lives in Virginia.

Preserving memories

By Amy S.

I'm attempting to organize all of our "baby photos." Olivia is now 3 years old, so I'm off to a late start. Up to this point, most of the photo keeping was being done "virtually."  We take digital photos 99 percent of the time. The good news is that we have them on the computer. The bad news is that we have them on the computer.

First comes the task of downloading photos and organizing them on the computer in such a way that we'll be able to find a specific photo when we look for it. I keep all of our digital photos organized in desktop folders based on the month they were taken. This works out, for the most part. I wonder when we get up to about 10 years of photos, if I'll be able to remember things by month and year.

The key here is remembering to back up these photos in case something ugly happens with the computer. I back them up every few months by burning them on CDs. I also upload most of the photos to Shutterfly, so out-of-town family can order them if they'd like. This serves as another type of backup. They keep the photos indefinitely on their servers.

But what do I do with all the photos sitting in boxes? I began putting them in an album recently. I tried to order them by year, but it gets tedious. I got an album that has a "memo" area next to each photo, so I just noted the date next to each series of photos. It's not fancy, but it works.

I also digitally scrapbook pages from time to time, preserving the most important memories. The nice thing about digital scraps is that I can make multiple copies and put together one book for Olivia and one for me. (Not that I've done that yet, but I can.)

I feel like there are other things I could be doing to preserve the memories for Olivia when she's older. I didn't appreciate my baby book and childhood photos until I had my own child. I want to have something to share with Olivia when she starts her family.

How do you organize all those photos? What creative things are you doing to preserve memories to share with you children when they're older?

Amy S. is a 32-year-old married, working mom to Olivia, age three. She lives in Virginia.

'Tis the season to accumulate debt

By Amy S.

While shopping online for the last few presents, I happened to run into an article about Americans in debt. In his column, "The Red Tape Chronicles," Bob Sullivan discusses a report titled "Living with Debt." The report details the degree to which Americans move deeper into debt daily. It isn't really news that "parents are spending about twice as much of their disposable income on housing as they did a generation ago." And it's probably not news to parents that we're spending a lot on our children. According to the study, "The single most important factor underlying high debts is the 'elevated lifestyles' parents provide for their children."

Nothing drives home the frantic need to shower our children with fancy gifts like the holidays. Every other commercial on TV is geared toward children and their parents. Baby dolls are old news, giving way to expensive electronic gadgets and cell phones for 10-year-olds. A recent article in my local newspaper documented the Christmas wish lists of teenagers; the most requested gifts were iPods, XBoxes, fancy cell phones and computers, all of which cost hundreds of dollars each.

It isn't hard to fall prey to the big holiday spending. For the past several Christmases, my husband and I have allowed the holiday spending to spiral a bit out of control. I think it stems from the first few years of marriage, when we were "D.I.N.K.S.": Double-Income No-Kids. In an effort to get away from the frantic spending pace of the holidays, this year my husband and I sat down and hammered out a reasonable holiday budget. It included a budget for what we would spend on our daughter.

At times, it's been a challenge to stay within the budget. It's sometimes easier to buy something without worrying about the price. But for the most part, it's made life easier.  There are a couple of things left that I'd love to buy for Olivia, but alas, we've blown through the budget for her. And at three, she doesn't have big expectations. This may be the last year we don't have to worry about her asking for things she sees on TV or at another child's house. Ask me how we're doing when she's 15. That'll be the real challenge.

Amy S. is a 32-year-old married, working mom to Olivia, almost three. She lives in Virginia.

This is Not the Hair Cuttery

By Amy S.

It was bound to happen. I just received a phone call from Olivia's daycare provider. These calls in the middle of the day -- especially before the holidays -- are the ones I worry about. Is she throwing up? Has she done something not-so-nice to another child?

"I just want to let you know that Olivia cut her hair today," Miss Christine said calmly, "But don't worry, it's NOT that obvious."

Immediately I see visions of Olivia's hair in some punk-rock spike for all of the Christmas photos. But Miss Christine assured me that only a little length was removed from the back. "You can still put it in a ponytail," she said, trying to keep me from total panic.

"She did cut another little boy's hair, also. But she only took a little off the sides," continues Miss Christine, "And you really wouldn't notice his much at all."

I hope his mother feels that way. The irony here is that I did the very same thing at about Olivia's age. I "butchered" (my mother's words) a preschool boy's hair in a secret hair-cutting session.

"But not before he butchered yours," Mom exclaimed when I called to tell her of Olivia's adventures with scissors.

She says she thought it was funny. After all, hair grows back. (And I was the fourth child, so by then I think my parents had grown accustomed to the things children will do when a back is turned for a moment.) But apparently the Mom of the little boy whose hair I cut, she did not think it was funny.

I hope Olivia's hair isn't too bad, but I'm mostly worried about her first "client" -- the little boy with the curls. I hope he's still got plenty of curls.

Amy S. is a 32-year-old married, working mom to Olivia, almost three. She lives in Virginia.