DotMoms

Little-Sister-Itis

By Sarah Rachel Egelman

My baby, who turns one this month and is hardly a baby anymore, has a bad case of little-sister-itis. That is what we call her permanent and incurable condition and it seems to be getting more acute. Symptoms include:

• frustration at being unable to walk/run/jump/climb like her big sister
• boundless joy at being the object of her big sister's attention
• arching of back and howling at the word "no"
• fits of giggling and hand clapping upon hearing her big sister sing or seeing her dance
• possible neck strain at constantly looking around for her big sister
• rejection of all age-appropriate toys
• attempting and often succeeding in playing with big kid toys like Legos and puzzles
• disinterest in board books
• extreme interest in big sister's favorite books
• super baby strength demonstrated by attempting to climb bunk bed ladder after big sister and getting farther up there than you would imagine; note: this is directly related to the condition found in parents called "heart palpitations"

I am a big sister myself. And the age difference between myself and my younger sister is only a few months less than between my girls. So I can empathize with Lilith when she is upset at finding Adina chewing up her books, messing up the puzzles she worked so hard at, or just getting the kind of hawk-eye attention a 1-year-old gets. But, I am starting to understand the younger sibling's point of view, too.

An early memory of mine is sitting on my bed, quietly playing while my little sister toddled into my room and swept all the books and toys off my shelf. She seemed to leave a trail of destruction wherever she went. But, as a mother, witnessing this same scene several times daily, I have come to rethink the scenario. Could it be that what I took as deliberate mischief was really my sister just wanting to play? Was she just trying to get my attention? Was she trying to keep up with me and play with the things I liked to play with?

Adina adores her big sister. Lilith is by far her favorite person, beating out me and her father easily. It seems my job these days is, however, to keep her little-sister-itis in check, encouraging the sweet behaviors and rechanneling the less endearing ones. I know that a bad case of big-sister-itis (jealousy and feelings of isolation, confusingly coupled with abundant love and an innate desire to protect) can get out of hand, too.

I am learning a lot about being a sister from being a mother, and thankfully the difficult side effects (sleep deprivation, frustration, heaps of laundry, inability to answer 700 "why" questions in a two-hour span) are always outweighed by the benefits of mother-itis (pure unconditional love, pride, creativity, humility and laughter).

Sarah Rachel Egelman is a community college instructor and freelance book reviewer who lives in New Mexico with her family. 

It runs in the family

By Amy Heesacker

I never considered myself athletic. If you asked me to list 100 adjectives that best describe me, "talkative" would be near the top, but any words having to do with movement, activity or exercise would not even make an appearance.

That is, until one recent morning at 5:30 a.m.

A month before, I joined a boot camp for women, a wonderfully inspiring group made up mostly of moms like me. It was a rather impulsive late-night decision based in part on having had to lie down to zip up my jeans that morning. When I started the program I didn't expect to make it to all the sessions. I had never been consistent with exercise, so I anticipated that this experience would be similar to all of my previous attempts; I'd start out strong and end with a pitiful half-hearted effort, probably finding an excuse (a sore knee, a runny nose, split ends) not to finish.

However, with the encouragement of my boot camp instructor and after seeing some early results, I managed to stickwith it to the end, never missing a single session. I surprised myself, and I began to see myself in a different light, as someone who might actually rise before the sun to do sit-ups on frosted grass, under a starry sky.

I recently discovered that my grandmother was a runner. And she was a fast one. After telling her about joining the boot camp, my grandmother shared with me that she used to win ribbons in high school track for her speed. My dad, her son, was an athlete too -– still is, as a matter of fact. Along with a weekly basketball schedule, he continues to do a pushup for every year of his life, every day.

Our final boot camp assessment was to be timed on a mile run to mark our improvement. I worried the night before that my time would be the same as or, pathetically, worse than when I started. When the timed mile began I started out strong, and then the familiar negative self-talk began, "You aren't going to make a better time, so you might as well slow down and save yourself the pain." "Maybe if you slip in the rain-drenched grass and feign an ankle injury you will garner some sympathy and not have to face your embarrassing time." "You don't really think you're a runner, do you?"

But then I had another thought, one that somehow managed to break free from the pack that I usually hang with and pulled ahead, taking me and my tired legs with it.

"My grandmother was a runner. And now so am I."

It was a thought that helped shave one whole minute off my mile and filled me with a sense of pride that I have rarely felt. My hope is that I can serve as a role model to my children and grandchildren one day, just as my grandmother did for me. But for now, I'm just enjoying thinking of myself as an athlete, a talkative, fast athlete.

Amy Heesacker is a thirty-something SAHM and part-time psychology professor living in the deep South with her husband and two children.

He's a believer

By Amy M.

The story of Santa was alive and well in our interfaith household this year. Alex believed strongly in jolly old Saint Nick and was thrilled to discover the plate with cookie crumbs and half-eaten carrots on Christmas morning. I think he considered that better proof of Santa's existence than the presents under the tree.

Keeping up the ruse was more challenging than I anticipated, especially because Santa was not a fixture in my Jewish upbringing. I found myself asking Alex questions to see if he accepted the Santa story at face value, or if he had thought it out.

"So how does Santa get to everyone's house in one night?" I asked. "He flies, and that's faster than driving," Alex replied.

"We don't have a chimney, so how does Santa get in our house?" I asked. "He comes in through the front door," Alex said. "But why don't we hear him?" I pressed. "Because he tiptoes!" Alex exclaimed.

That's when I realized I had a true believer on my hands. And it was really a lot of fun to see Alex's excitement on Christmas morning. We always have family Hanukkah celebrations that include lots of gift-giving (and opening), but I guess there's something special about coming downstairs on Christmas and discovering presents under the tree.

Like babies who enjoy the packaging more than the gift inside, Alex was most excited about an inexpensive item he found in his stocking—marshmallow Peeps in snowman and Christmas tree form. In his excitement, he started calling them "Bo Peeps." Eventually we corrected him, but hearing his glee as he discussed his "Bo Peeps" made for a funny holiday memory.

It will be interesting to see whether Alex believes in the Easter Bunny this year. We don't really celebrate the holiday, but around Easter usually give him a "springtime basket" with a small toy and some candy. And what will he find in that basket? His beloved "Bo Peeps."

Amy M. lives in Pennsylvania with her family and works full time as a writer/editor for a large university.

What's next for DotMoms?

By Julie Moos

As some of you know, I had surgery a year and a half ago to remove benign tumors (adenomas) in my liver, and now I am scheduled to have surgery on my liver again to address more adenomas that have grown since my last operation. Beginning Friday, Jan. 11, I'll be in the hospital for 7-10 days, then recovering at home for 6-8 weeks.

During some of that time I'll be offline and won't be updating DotMoms. There are a few momoirs scheduled to publish in the next few weeks, and others may publish daily news about parenting at the DotMoms Twitter page. While I'm recovering, I'll assess whether to continue DotMoms and if so, how.

I'm proud of how the site has evolved over the years -- from the only group blog about motherhood when I began it 4 and a half years ago, to a directory with links to hundreds of mom bloggers, to a singular source for parenting headlines. I'm thrilled to have been a midwife of the mom blogging movement, and I continue to be impressed by the creativity and connectivity I see in sites other moms have developed, like The MotherHood.

If you have ideas about how DotMoms can serve parents, let me know in the comments. Once I have decided how to proceed, I'll let you know.

Meanwhile, if you want to keep track of my progress, you can go to: http://www.carepages.com

Once there, click "Visit a CarePage." You'll need to register the first time you use the site, then you'll need to log in to view updates. To access my information, enter this exact CarePage Name: JulieMMoos

I wish you and your families all the best in 2008,
Julie

Julie Moos is founder and editor of DotMoms. She lives with her husband and 11-year-old son in Safety Harbor, Florida.

From de rigeur to dangerous

By Sarah Rachel Egelman

"Can you believe parents aren't supposed to give their kids cold medicine anymore?" asked the woman scanning my groceries. It was early in the morning and I had my 9-month-old in a carrier strapped to my chest. There was no one behind me in line and so the woman and I had been chatting about teething and other baby concerns.

I have distinct memories of driving around in my parents Volare in the 1970's. My sister and I, unencumbered by seat belts, would be scrambling around the backseat (often, truth be told, mooning the cars behind us) while my mom smoked cigarettes in the front seat. Not the picture of safety by 2008 standards, but not a whole lot different than most families we knew at the time.

So, we are not supposed to give our kids cold medicine anymore; it wasn't something we did a lot around here anyway but it did get me thinking about all the things that are either now out of vogue in parenting or we have come to learn are simply dangerous. Nowadays, kids are firmly strapped in while driving in cars and even parents who smoke often do so only away from their children.

Here are some other examples from now and then:

Bike helmets: When I was a kid it was weird to see someone wearing a helmet to cycle or skate. Now my young daughter reminds her dad every morning, as he prepares to ride his bike to work, to put on his helmet. She has a nice green one she is proud to wear while cycling.

Sleeping on tummies: At least one generation, mine, was put down to sleep as newborns on our tummies. Now we know it is far safer for babies to sleep on their backs.

Early solid foods: In my husband's baby book is a sheet of instructions from his pediatrician. It advised his parents to start solid foods at less than a month old. I have read this sheet several times with disbelief -- how do you get a newborn to ingest solids? It seems like torture for all involved. Now we are told to wait at least five months. Six months seems to be the average but even 10 months isn't unusual.

Walkers: Until the last decade, walkers were a de rigeur baby item. Before babies could walk they were put in walkers and allowed to drag themselves around the house. Most doctors recommend against walkers these days as they can be dangerous and can even delay walking instead of encouraging it.

I can only imagine how strange or even hazardous our parenting methods will someday seem to our grandchildren.

Sarah Rachel Egelman is a community college instructor and freelance book reviewer who lives in New Mexico with her family.

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Our family gameography: Wii love Nintendo!

By Julie

This year for Hanukkah, I asked for a Crimson Nintendo DS so I could play games on my own handheld console. I wanted the DS because I fell in love with Jewel Quest Adventure and wanted to play it without having to borrow Colter's DS. Jewel Quest Adventure wasn't my first DS game -- Previously, I tried Planet Puzzle League because I love the Nintendo 64 game Pokemon Puzzle League, and I tried Pokemon Trozei for the same reason. Neither was as satisfying as Jewel Quest. Once I completed Jewel Quest, I tried 7 Wonders, and Puzzle Quest, but I didn't become obsessed with another DS game until Mah Jong Quest, which I'm playing now. I'm beginning to understand why Colter loves these games -- the instant gratification, the certainty there is a correct answer if only I can figure it out, the satisfaction of trying and trying and trying until I succeed.

Gary and I were talking recently to Colter about the first game he loved, and he thinks it was Pokemon Red. This got us remembering each gaming system we've owned, which inspired our family gameography.

Super Nintendo: Gary bought this when Colter was still in preschool. They played a paint program on it and a basketball game. We got rid of the Super Nintendo in 2002.

Game Boy Advance: We bought this for Colter when he was in first grade so he could play Pokemon Red. He still has it but uses it rarely, and then only as an extra controller for the Wii.

Nintendo 64: For Christmas, when Colter was 6, Santa brought him a Nintendo 64 and left it in our hotel room, the day we moved from North Carolina to Florida. Colter loved playing Kirby on it and, eventually, Pokemon Stadium. Gary and I stayed up late many nights playing Pokemon Puzzle League. We still get it out once in a while.

GameCube: When Colter was 7 years old, a family friend sold him his GameCube for $40. It was a thrill because Colter really admired Robin (and his game-playing skills) and so the GameCube remained very special to him. He played Pokemon Colisseum on it and discovered co-op games like Shrek and The Lord of the Rings. Gary and Colter's Favorite GameCube game is The Hobbit. Once the GameCube broke, we had all the reason we needed to get a Wii.

Game Boy SP: Eventually, Colter wanted a Game Boy SP and he got one. Gary started playing Pokemon Emerald, Sapphire and Ruby on the SP, so we got him his own handheld. Colter sometimes still uses his SP, in fact we just bought him a Duel Masters Game Boy Advance game the other day, and he's playing that on his SP.

DS and DS Lite: These handhelds were irresistible, and we continue to love them. Colter's favorite DS game is Pokemon Pearl.

Wii: What can I say? We waited in the '06 holiday lines, but didn't get a Wii until early in '07. We've been enjoying it ever since. We play Wii Sports the most.

What game systems and games has your family loved over the years? Are you a Nintendo loyalist, a PSPer or an XBox player?

Those moments that matter most

By Amanda

Lately my work life has become so hectic that I find I don't really fully separate from it and concentrate on my children unless we get out of town. So on Thanksgiving we did just that. As a journalist it was my first Thanksgiving off in many years and I decided that cooking was definitely not on the agenda.

The fantasy of spending a weekend with my children in the mountains was too good to resist. Of course, I never considered the reality: the fighting in the car (before we had even left our street), the complaining about why Mommy's Volvo station wagon doesn't have a built in DVD player, and don't even get me started on sharing a hotel room with two kids.

But despite the frustrating moments (my 4-year-old's temper tantrum in the hotel lobby when she hid beneath the Christmas tree almost sending it teetering over), I was able to disconnect and re-connect with being a mother again. 

My main method was to put down the Blackberry, turn off my computer, and let nothing else distract me, like laundry or dirty dishes. When I do make these rare moments to be just a mother, they remind me that there's no place I'd rather be than in those moments.

Dancing with my 4-year-old to goofy big band music in front of hundreds of strangers in the hotel lobby was one of those moments. Cuddling in bed with both of my girls, their faces still soft with sleep, their legs wrapped around me like octopus tentacles, was another one of those moments. Watching them delicately hold baby chicks and squeal with delight at a nearby farm was yet another one of those moments.

At the end of the day, life is made up of moments. Some are more precious than others. I need to find a way to have more of "those moments" and less of the ones that don't really count. That's my resolution for 2008.

Amanda Lamb lives in North Carolina with her husband and two daughters. Her new book, "Smotherhood," was just released.

Cat One, Me Zero

By Julie Kirtz Garrett

I just spent $260 on something I promised myself (and my kids) I never would.

I've worked hard during the last few years selling my children on their mom's righteous no-pet stance. I was not going to follow the other moms in our circle and give in to the heavy-handed family pressure to get a pet. I figured, after three kids, I needed a big long break from poop duty. As a busy mom, the last thing I want is a loyal and constant animal companion who needs to be fed, cleaned and cared for. But here's what happened. We didn't get a pet --- the pet got us.

"Cat" (she still doesn't have an official name but we're close) showed up in the yard. Day by day, she got closer to our house. She slept in the sun on the deck. She started pawing at our glass kitchen door at dinner time. Eventually she show up at breakfast.

My kids were curious. They gave her something to drink. I suggested we put a little food out on the deck. Naturally, it made sense to buy some cat food at the grocery store (just a small bag). We were doomed after that. My daughter put up signs in the neighborhood but no one claimed "Cat." She ultimately wore me down with her cool green eyes.

So, we got her into a carrying case and took her to the vet. The lobby was nicer than our pediatrician's (which is a little creepy). $260 later, she is officially our cat.

I am not a cat person. I haven't had a pet since I was 14. Cats always seem too fussy to me. And honestly, all this pampered pet culture seems way out of whack. "Cat" will never be my baby, just a pet. Thankfully, she's affectionate but not too needy. And my three kids are helping to keep track of her.

In fact, without asking, my son Luke saved me from poop duty and cleaned out the litter box.

Julie Kirtz Garrett is a writer and television reporter. She lives in Washington, D.C., with her husband and three children.

Relearning friendship

By Amber

A couple of years ago, a friend invited me to join her playgroup at Bellview Park. It was a glorious sunny day, the kind you relish as you watch your 1-year-old test out her wobbly legs like a baby bird taking flight.

As the mothers talked freely, the children played. They splashed in the stream, giggled on the train, squealed at the animals in the petting zoo and rolled in the grass. It was one of those times when everything just seemed right.

Until I met Daniel. Actually, it was my sweet daughter Hadley who instigated the introduction. She had wobbled over to a corner of the park about 30 feet away from our perch and had innocently plopped down beside this little boy. He was tow-headed, bespectacled and I will never forget his bottomless smiles. I will also never forget his accompanying oxygen tank.

I struck up a conversation with his mother. Daniel was just a couple months older than Hadley but half her size and severely handicapped. But this child emanated a light like I have never seen as he guilelessly watched the children play around him.

In those brief moments that we spoke, I had such a strong connection with this woman as she longingly looked over at our circle of friends. A voice screamed inside me, "INVITE THEM OVER! She is in desperate need of companionship!"

But I did not.

I had my reasons, albeit superficial ones. After all, I did not know this woman, she did not know me. And besides, it was not even my playgroup; I was already crashing it. How would it appear if I invited a complete stranger over?

That woman has probably long forgotten that day.

I have not.

And I have vowed to keep remembering with each new encounter.

Amber is a former adventure-travel writer turned adventurous unraveling mother to two-year-old Hadley and baby Bode.