Click for a Change

The following is a post sponsored by Yahoo! Every time someone clicks here to make Yahoo! their homepage, they're showing their support for Girls For A Change.

I was selected for this opportunity by Clever Girls Collective, which endorses Blog With Integrity, as I do.
****

A long time ago I was pretty well immersed in the world of do-gooders. While I was in college I ran our school's largest organization, a non-profit aimed at providing programs for adults and children with physical and mental disabilities. I was a member of a service organization dedicated to serving both on campus and in the community. I interned with an organization with programs benefitting at-risk inner city youth. My first job out of college involved designing a mentorship program between university students and inner-city youth. My dad is fond of saying that it's not a good deed if you tell someone about it, and I'm inclined to agree. I only list this here to make a point. It's always been important to me to give back, to do something. Since becoming a parent these ventures have largely disappeared.

I like the idea of making a difference, but the practice seems daunting. I know I'm not the only person inundated with requests to support causes close to those that I care about. I know I'm also not the only person with limited financial resources to give to these causes. We all have limited resources with the multiple demands on our time, attention and wallets just within the walls of our own homes.

All of this to say that when an opportunity to make a difference with relatively little effort on my part comes my way, I'm willing to jump on it. And, with one click, you can too.

For every person that clicks here and chooses to make Yahoo their homepage, Yahoo will donate $10 to Girls for a Change, up to a total of $10,000. In their words:

"Girls For A Change (GFC) is a national organization that empowers girls to create social change. We invite young women to design, lead, fund and implement social change projects that tackle issues girls face in their own neighborhoods."

With a click you can support Girls for a Change. In under 30 seconds, you can help reach a goal of 1,000 making a difference, 1,000 people doing something. And in this case, I think my dad is wrong. I think you should tell a lot of someones about this.

Party Tricks

Originally posted two years ago, I came across this post while searching for something else and liked it enough to run it again.

I love it when childless people come to visit. And not only because they don't have a 7pm bedtime to race home to.

It's especially nice when those people haven't seen my kid in a while. In case you're wondering, there's wee bit of a difference from 18 months and days away from two. If, at eighteen months he was cute and fun, at almost-two he's a freaking genius in their eyes.

And that's the best part, seeing him through someone else's eyes. The flawed way that he counts to 20 (the numbers six and fifteen make repeated appearances, but he always knows the correct placement of ten and twenty and shouts them with gusto) causes their eyes to widen genuinely. The surprise when they realize he's stopped chatting in his crib and has fallen asleep. On his own! Like a person!

I spend most of my time around other moms, even if I'm alone, I'm in places populated by moms and their kids. They might appreciate Bub's cute curls but not marvel in awe every time he correctly identifies a farm animal. They're living it too and rather than being sensational, it's the norm.

It's nice to be gently reminded that my kid can be both normal and spectacular all in the same moment.

At the Pool: Part I*

*I'm going to assume that this won't be the only thing that happens at the pool this summer, but I've been wrong before, so this could end up being Part I in a one-part series. We'll see.

Scene: Saturday evening at the pool. Mom arrives with four kids. I'm guessing on ages, but we'll say two 12 year-old girls, a five year old and and two year old. The pool is relatively empty. The twelves dive in and commence gossiping and playing. The five-year-old dons floaties and hops in with a kick board. It's fairly obvious that she can't swim. Mom advises her to stay near the edge of the pool while she sits in a chair with two year old.

Now, this alone is enough to set me off as my inner judgey alarm starts sounding. Parents should be in the pool with non-pool safe kids!

However, it gets better worse.

The mom looks around and remarks, "Huh, no lifeguards." (It's after 7:00pm.) Then, THEN, she calls out to one of the 12 year olds and asks her to watch the five year old while she takes the littlest one to the bathroom.

NO. The not-able-to-swim five year old needs to get out of the pool and come with you. Period. The end. Also? The lifeguards are there in case of emergency, not to supervise your kids. I realize dragging one kid out of the pool so you can take another to the bathroom is a gigantic pain. I KNOW. A pain, but not-optional.

The twelve year olds swim over and play with the five year old for a minute, then get distracted and move to a different area of the pool. I'm sitting on the edge of the pool with Bubette and my husband is swimming with Bub, so I kept an eye on the five year old while the mom was gone. ME. A STRANGER. Who had absolutely no obligation to watch her child, oh and also my own children to keep alive.

This is, unfortunately, not the end. The mom comes back out and sees that the older kids are nowhere near that five year old and proceeds to scream at them across the pool. I TOLD YOU TO WATCH HER. WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? SHE COULD DROWN IN THE POOL WHILE NO ONE IS WATCHING AND THEN YOU WOULD HAVE THAT ON YOUR CONSCIENCE.

She walks away, seething, then comes back a minute later and continues to berate the older kids. Honestly, the twelve year old KIDS, were not at fault. They did what twelve year olds do, and got distracted. This is why you shouldn't entrust pre-teens to keep another child safe in a pool OMG.

It took everything in me to keep my mouth shut. I'm not the confrontational type and I really didn't want to get into a screaming match in front of my children. Also, I really, really hope that she learned her lesson. (Please, oh please, let that be the case.)

A Sweet First Birthday Party

So, part of the fun of having children who can't talk is getting to make all of their decisions for them, yes? Pretty soon Bubette is going to be stomping her feet and demanding a Dora party, Mooooom, so I had to take the opportunity to throw the party of my dreams while I could. Thus was born the candy-themed birthday party for Bubette's first birthday.

The party was held the day before we moved and I really wanted to walk the line between totally crazy-making, but still sweet. I'll try to knock it off with the "sweet" references. I can't make any promises.


Lollipops purchased from a friend who used them for her Candyland themed party.



And this is where I kind of go off the deep end...



Water bottle labels, purchased from totfulmemories on Etsy.



Bubble labels, downloaded from Hostess with the Mostess.

Basically, I really wanted an excuse to have a candy buffet. And so I did.

The lollipops were from Michael's. The labels were included. There were also blank labels included to make your own, but by the time I got around to buying these, my printer was packed.



More candy in buckets from the dollar section of Target.




Mark my words, I will continue making these marshmallow pops until I can figure out cake pops. Anyone want to come over and give me a cake pop tutorial?




Cake time! Smash cake and cupcakes from Meringue Bake Shop. The cupcakes aren't pictured because we kept them in their boxes to keep them from melting in the hot sun. They were distributed before I had a chance to snap 100 pictures. I had mini-cupcakes and people raved as if I had invented the concept myself.


Happy Birthday to you, Bubette.

Notes: I hired a taco man for lunch. Worth every penny. I refuse, REFUSE, to spend the entire party worrying about food. I did absolutely ZERO set up or serving of the food and came home with tons of leftovers. Also, two great friends helped me with the set up at the park. At different times they both asked what they could do, and I said, "Be there at ten?" I'm sure that's not the answer they were expecting, but I'm turning over a new ask-for-help-when-you-need-it leaf.

One

Have a one year old is a crazy thing. I no longer count your age in months, well, for this month anyway. I'll probably go back to that ridiculousness when you're 13 months because "one" seems like it means 12 months, even though it could be acceptable to call you one for the entire year. Because you are.

Bubette, you are a full-blown person. You don't really have any words other than "Dada" (thanks for that, by the way,) but you communicate. "Mmmmmm" seems to mean "Dinner, please!" or "Snack NOW," or "Woman, if you don't get some milk into that cup and that cup into my hands with the quickness things are going to get LOUD in here." Also, "YUMMY."

I know every mother thinks this, but you are just so captivating. And listen, this may not be my totally biased opinion here because everywhere we go, people love you. They stop what they're doing to look at you, they talk to you in a baby voice that they can't control even if they try, and they cheer when you blow kisses and then clap for yourself, because it's definitely the cutest thing they've seen all day.



Immediately after we moved into this house you started sleeping through the night. Solid 11-12 hour stretches. I can say this without fear of angering the sleep gods, because for the past few nights you've been waking up again, and completely unwilling to go back to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. I've decided that you're teething, because you don't appear sick and I refuse to believe that nine straight days of through-the-night-sleeping was a fluke. Okay? Grow a tooth or two, then back to sleep. Deal?

In a truly unfair turn of events, after only a few days in the sun, slathered in SPF a frillion and kept under hats and in the shade, you've developed a tan darker than I've ever sported a day in my life. I'm about to make a totally ridiculous statement, but here goes: I'm so, so happy that you won't be destined for a life of Casper like whiteness like your mother. Still, you must ALWAYS wear sunscreen. You'll thank me for that later. You can thank your father for your tan.

I'm still very much holding on to your babyness. Standing in your room with Gramma the other day I caught myself mentally redecorating and saying, "And the desk will go over there," and then shook my head with the insanity of that statement. You're not just a baby, you're MY baby who will eventually be a KID, who needs a DESK. For homework and doodling boys names and oh no, let's just stop right there.

I'm loving every minute of baby you, but I'm so looking forward to the rest, too.

Lofty

We have two goals for the summer, that evolved from who knows where.

1. Keep Bub in bed until 7:00am. Or, at least, in his room until then. I'm not sure how he can be expected to do this, since he doesn't have a clock in his room. For now, he comes into our room whenever he wakes up and climbs into bed with us. We've taught him that we don't get up until there's a "seven at the front" after he tried to convince me it was 7:00am, when it was 6:37. Yesterday, he woke us up saying "there's a seven at the front AND back!" Indeed, it was 7:07.

2. Bub makes his own bed before he comes out of his room in the morning. This was actually my husband's idea, but I'm totally on board with it. I loathe making beds. The only reason I make my own bed is because it makes my husband crazy when I don't. Tonight as I was putting him to bed I reminded him to make his bed in the morning, kissed him goodnight and went on my way. A few minutes later there was a Bub-shaped shadow at the top of the stairs. "Mama? I made my bed, can I come downstairs now?"

A 50% success rate isn't bad, right?

Mildly annoyed, highly unmotivated

What? You came hoping maybe I had gotten around to writing about the birthday party extravaganza? Since that would require me opening the cabinet DIRECTLY ABOVE MY HEAD and getting out the camera to upload the pictures, even though I would not have to get out of my seat, suffice it to say that will have to wait another day.

I am prepared to rant however, so hold on to your hats. Inspired by TJ, here's my very own list of things that bother me, but which I'm either powerless or too lazy to do anything about.

Thing, the First: Assuming lack of a Y chromosome equals complete stupidity in regards to all things that do something. For example: the home we bought is brand new and therefore we have been working directly with the builder. The builder provides a customer service team that has been exceedingly helpful. I can't overstate this; they've been awesome. Truly. However, on several occasions, I've mentioned things that haven't been working. We had no cold water in our kitchen sink and our air conditioning wasn't working. I think we can assume that I tried all possible combinations, after scalding myself on the regular, to assure that there was, in fact, no cold water, yet when Mr. Helpful came by, he ran the water for an extended period of time, just to be sure. On his next visit he asked me to show him how I was trying to get the air conditioning to work, then reminded me that sometimes it will take a while to cool down a hot house. I explained that I kind of understand how that works, and that I was pretty sure there was a problem when the temperature of the house went UP during the 30 minutes I was running the air. Also? The system has exactly four buttons. I think it's safe to assume I can figure out how to scroll through until the screen reads "cool."

I mean, I know he wants to be sure there actually is a problem before he calls someone out to fix it. But, let's assume that maybe, just maybe, I have the brain power to try alternate solutions before I call someone in. It's also possible that I'm a little sensitive given the piss-poor service I was given at a home improvement center recently when the employee challenged me, for minutes, insisting that what I needed was a dishwasher hose, not, in fact, a washing machine hose. Except that no, I needed a washing machine hose. And yes, ovaries and all, I do know the difference.

Point #2: Solicitors. It is veeery obvious that we just moved in. I mean, our front yard is dirt, weeds and sandbags. We're obviously not established residents of the neighborhood. AND, because this is all new construction, there are certain services that can smell a close of escrow from a mile away and swarm the second the moving truck departs. Namely: alarm systems, pest control and landscapers. It's 8:21 pm and I just had to field someone giving away! a free! alarm system! justsignacontractandpaythemonthlyfee. The landscapers aren't so bad. I tell them that we're already working with someone and they go on their way. The pest control people have taken to asking who we're under contract with (I know, the ENVIRONMENT, but having already caught a mouse in week one, and living with swarms, SWARMS of ants, we're in need of the professionals) and then proceeding to badmouth whomever I happen to say. The thing about complaining about this is that I could probably cut down on half of the doorbell rings with a simple no soliciting sign or even a "Shhhh! Baby sleeping!" Post-it over the doorbell and yet here I sit, complaining and taking ZERO action.

Come on, tell me, what's bugging you a little?

Five Tidbits of Parenting Advice

*A piece of clear packing tape over a speaker will lower the volume of a toy with no volume adjustment.

*When you find yourself needing both a stroller and a shopping cart, it's much easier to pull a shopping cart one handed than to push it.

*At some point, your kid will totally buy into the whole concept of "muscle food" and you will start calling everything ridiculous names like "muscle trees" and "strong man salad." You will then sit back and silently congratulate yourself for getting he-who-only-eats-carbs to eat an entire portion of leafy greens.

*Sunscreen comes in lotion, spray and stick form. It's not at all overdoing it to use all three at once on the same body, no matter what your husband says.

*Sometimes you have to hide in the pantry to eat a cookie.

Elsewhere

I find it hard to believe that there's someone who's not reading Style Lush, but I suppose it must be true. If you're not reading, then you've missed these gems from dear, little me.

Summer Bucket List Where I showcase the most awesome piece of crafting I've seen in a long time.

Angry Birds Board Game Could there be anything more brilliant?

Gorgeousness in Advertising: Essie

What I Bought: Fossil Update I would really appreciate you telling me that my husband is wrong about this watch.

And, if you need even more of me (which you do, obviously) you can (and should) follow me on Twitter.

Back!

We finally, finally have internet in the new house, just in time for my SITS day! Welcome!

We have officially moved, and, with the exception of two boxes, completely unpacked. Even the garage is finished, and I really, really wish I had taken a before picture, because you couldn't even walk through there on Saturday. On Sunday however, the husband performed some sort of magic and I can now park my car in the garage.

In case you're wondering, moving? Sucks. The end result is pretty great, but we've been working pretty much non-stop for the last week and I'm just starting to feel like we're getting close to being done. And this is a brand new house, so theoretically there shouldn't be that much work. Except, no. Not at all true.

Still, it's coming right along. Every room, except for my living room, looks like it should. Mostly. We still need art for the master bedroom, and the hallway, and the entry and the den (playroom!) and new nightstands, but that will happen in time. (Notice how I'm all, oh, no big deal, the house will come together soon enough. Really I'm thinking MUST COVER ALL WALLS NOW and, THESE NIGHTSTANDS ARE AWFUL, WHAT WAS I THINKING, GET THEM OUT OF HERE.)



I still have so much to tell you, like about the two fabulous birthday parties that bookended our week of moving (my kids are ONE and FOUR you guys) and my new love affair with all things caffeinated (seriously, it's like my mission to figure out how many ways I can wake myself up in the morning,) but it's late and I only have a 60% chance of sleeping through the night (Which is 60% better than last week!)

For now, I'll leave you with a few thoughts...

*Why, oh why, do builders put flat paint on walls? WHY? Our brand new walls are on their way to filthy.

*The thing I love about the hardwood floor that I picked is that it never looks dirty. The thing I hate about my hardwood floors? THEY NEVER LOOK DIRTY. My tiny little crawler is filthy at the end of the day. I finally bought a steam mop today and I'll be giving the floors the baby knee test in the morning.

*Our builder offers a furniture option. I was in the design center today and it turns out the furniture they offer is the furniture from the models, which is beautiful to be sure, but I can only imagine walking into all of my neighbors homes and seeing identical living rooms. Which brings me to my next point...

*With the exception of my next door neighbor, we have met exactly zero neighbors. None. No one waves as they drive down the street or stops by to laugh at our giant piles of trash. They're killing the dream I had of standing in the front yard, chatting while watching the kids play. Even at the park down the street? DESERTED. Where is everyone?

Busy

Today we party, tomorrow we move.

See you in July.

(Kidding.) (Probably.)

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.7