Important things I learned while dancing

I had an opportunity to go out dancing with a couple of friends last Thursday. I paid for it dearly Friday morning. However, I learned two important things that night:

1. Never, ever have more than one Long Island Iced Tea. Ever. It often seems like a good idea to have a second while the first one is making me an awesome dancer. But it's not. Trust me.


2. Teacher friend--who landed a nice bruise on her bum after falling on the dance floor--shared some dancing words of wisdom with me: "If you don't fall down, it's because you didn't try hard enough." 

I must not have been trying hard enough on Thursday despite my several attempts. I still had a most excellent time.

Facing my wreckage

It seems like whenever I have time to write, I find that there are so many other really important things to do, like organizing the silverware drawer or scrubbing out the diaper bin. Ah, procrastination. I remember in college, my room or apartment would get a good one-over if I had a paper I should have been be working on.

Anyway, I'm feeling a bit blue because January is half over and I haven't done any actual writing on the book. There have been lots of blog posts, reading, but nothing on the book. Actually, that's not totally true. I have done some organizing of ideas and some editing here and there, but just not actual writing. It's hard to sit down to write because it's just such deeply personal stuff that focuses on really tough times over the past couple of years. I know I haven't really disclosed what my book is about, but let's just say it is a non-fiction book that pulls from personal experience.

As a result, this writing process sort of reminds me of picking up a nasty piece of old wood you come across when you're hiking in a damp forest. You're intrigued to see what's under there because there is always funky stuff under and old wet log, but it's often a bit disturbing to see the worms and fungus and centipedes and other grubby creatures that live under there. Some of it isn't pretty and it can make people turn away in disgust--just like the stuff hibernating in my brain.

I know I'm excited to write this book. It's a huge relief to have identified the topic and format for my book. But then there is the actual writing part, the part that involves thinking and working and pulling those emotions from my brain--those emotions and feelings I've so desperately tried to get away from--to the forefront. It's scary to go in and find out what is really in there.

New job, positive impact on stomach

It doesn't seem like it's been that long since Father in Chief left Yahoo to join family-friendly start-up JotSpot. It was a great move for our family because the company's culture was being defined by people who also have kids, who make their family lives a priority. This was a stark difference from Yahoo. There, FIC reported to people that 1) didn't have kids or 2) who left their kids for extended hours each day as both parents held big jobs with long hours. When I first wrote about it, I ruffled some tender feathers at Yahoo. To be clear, I never said that having kids with a nanny or in childcare for 10-plus hours a day was bad (although it's not the family life I want). I simply stated the facts: It's often hard for people who make those choices to understand the parents who don't want regularly scheduled 7 pm meetings. I touched a tender chord, apparently.

Anyway, the start-up life was grand. Father in Chief was able to do some work at home in the morning and have an occasionally breakfast with Preschooler in Chief. It was occasionally because PIC is a very late sleeper, often getting up after 9 am. FIC was also nearly always home for dinner and our regular evening routine. This is important to the home life we want for our kids, for ourselves. We want FIC to be an everyday part of our family life--not a weekend guest, a visitor who appears on special occasions, or someone who just kisses the kids long after they are asleep in bed.

But just 18 months later, he finds himself back at a big company. Google bought JotSpot last October, and our concerns of long hours, late meetings and unsympathetic managers have not materialized. Quite the contrary. FIC has eased into his new role without sacrificing our morning, dinner or evening rituals. Yes, there are and will be occasional late meetings or early morning calls, but nothing of any magnitude has chipped our family's foundation. No wonder Fortune Magazine named Google the No. 1 company to work for in 2007. And the fabulous, free, better-than-Whole-Foods-quality meals are a nice perk as well.

It only takes 15 minutes

I miss my husband. I miss talking with him, connecting with him. I miss sitting on the couch with our legs intertwined while we talk about our days--the mundane, the exciting, the regular stuff that is the bulk of our everyday lives. Sure, we have managed date nights here and there, but I don't want to be married only on the weekends.

During my first writing date with Aspiring Writer Friend, we talked much more than we wrote. Actually we did not write at all. That does not mean we didn't accomplish anything. We talked about writing. We talked about what we want to from our weekly dates. For her, she wants to flesh out ideas to turn into essays to submit to various publications. I need someone to bounce my ideas off of for my non-fiction book.

But that's not all. We talked about our pasts. We talked about our kids. We talked about our marriages. One of the things that came up was that it is difficult to stay connected with our spouses when there is a never-ending list of things to accomplish in our lives packed with play dates, trips to the park, and laundry. When Father in Chief comes home, we eat dinner as a family. Then it's medicine time, bath time, book time, and bedtime for the kids. We clean up, watch a bit of useless television, check email, and if we're lucky, we read for five minutes before succumbing to our exhaustion. There is so little time for ourselves. There is even less time for our relationship. AWF nodded as if I had just recited her life. Or at least it was her life until recently.

She recently initiated a new rule in her house. As soon as the kids are in bed, they sit together and talk for 15 minutes. No kids, no television, no computers, no distractions, no agenda. I immediately brought her simple idea home. The first night was horrible. We couldn't understand each other. We couldn't see each other's points of view. We couldn't hear each other. We fought. Probably because there was so much pent up stuff to talk about. It was a total failure. But we didn't give up.

We're only on day five, but I'm in it for the long haul. I want to be married forever and I don't want us to be strangers. You know, those old couples sitting in restaurants in total silence who ran out of things to say during the Reagan administration. This means we need to talk. We need to stay a part of each other's minutiae. What a simple and obvious idea. But when you have kids and jobs and responsibilities, it's not always easy. And maybe, just maybe, we'll eventually get to that other thing that only takes 15 minutes. One can dream anyway.

A moment of silence, privacy

There is no such thing as a leisurely pooh around here. When you live with a nimble-witted kid, potty time is no time for lingering, dawdling, or reading. There is also no such thing as a solo pooh around here. Any attempt at privacy is immediately thwarted. The door is opened to observe not only the process of elimination, but to actively participate in the flushing of elimination. This is followed by a serious of questions on the whereabouts of the toilet's contents when they are no longer visible to the spectator.

While Preschooler in Chief (formerly known as Toddler in Chief) was at his first day of school yesterday, something completely unexpected happened--I sat on the toilet with the door closed! I went in, pulled my pants down, and then realized I was alone--Baby in Chief was asleep and PIC was at school. I hesitated at first because a closed bathroom door seemed so kooky. But I overcame my reluctance, closed the door, and did my thing in total privacy. I even lingered with a magazine. I sat there for so long that my legs started to go numb. It was glorious and worth all the subsequent pins and needles.

If someone had told me about this lovely and unexpected side effect of PIC attending preschool, he would have been signed up ages ago.

Public potty time: this little nugget should be added to the list of things that never occured to me before having kids.

It's all about me, me, me

Toddler in Chief started preschool today. Father in Chief dropped him off and I wasn't sad at all. Rather I'm quite elated to start this New Year in a new direction, and it's all about getting me out of my rut. Sure TIC is ready to be in a new environment with new people and new grown-ups and new toys. But lets face it, I'm ready to have him in a new environment with other people so I don't have to listen to his shouting and whining. He sure is exercising his ego recently and he's testing all the limits. So preschool is just the thing. It's a weekly 10-hour break--ahem, I mean quality pre-kindergarten educational experience--for TIC.

But that's not all. Another bonus of TIC being in school is that I'll get to have some one-on-one time with Baby in Chief. But moreover, the real bonus is some time for me, me, me. And it will not include couch time and a bin of Linzer chocolates.

I have bigger plans than that. I'm excited to hunker down and write while BIC is sleeping (oh joyful three naps a day!!). I even joined the gym, and it has a lovely childcare center for BIC. He tried it out today and found that napping in someone's arms while mom is out of sight is quite lovely. Yoga seems to be my kind of exercise. There some stretching. Then you lie on the floor with you eyes closed for a while. Then you do more stretching. More eyes closed. Aaaah. Or perhaps I should say: "Owww-uummmm." But I am very sore after all that stretching. I have not done any official exercising in a long, long time. Yes, the baby weight is long gone--breastfeeding is the best exercise on the planet--but my muscles are sadly neglected.

I even have a weekly writing date scheduled with Aspiring Writer Friend. Today is the first one. I can't wait! So me, me, me. It has been a long time since I have put me first for anything. TIC will be fine. BIC will be fine. And I'm not guilty at all. Then again, it's only January 4.

Good riddance, sort of

I couldn't be happier about saying good-bye to 2006. For the most part, it was an incredibly crappy year for the Mother in Chief household. Still, there were a few glimmers of goodness among the muck. So instead of dwelling on the muck, I'd like to point out a few goodies to be thankful for as I start 2007.

1. Toddler in Chief survived his third heart surgery and long hospitalization.


2. Our incredible families provided us with tremendous support through it all.


3. I did not go into pre-term labor after I fell down the stairs when I was eight months pregnant.


4. I gave birth to a healthy and fabulous baby boy.


5. Father in Chief's company was bought by Google and he is happy at his new job.


6. I visited my fabulous friend in Atlanta.


7. I visited Grammy & Wayne, Grandma, Grandpa and others in Western New York.


8. The worst thing Grammy & Wayne lost during a devastating, freak October snowstorm was an apple tree.


9. I stopped hating my sister in law.


10. My brother and mom who have been estranged for nearly a decade are starting to mend their relationship.


11. Father in Chief did not break any bones or have any debilitating injuries following a serious cycling accident.


12. I started writing a book.


13. I donated breastmilk to a family who adopted a baby boy.


14. We attended Family Camp, which is an amazing free camp for families who have kids with heart defects.


15. My sister in law got engaged and is buying a house with her hubby-to-be.


16. Grampy got a job writing grants at a non-profit in Buffalo.

This list is not complete, so please excuse my inadvertent omissions. Here's to the good overshadowing the bad in 2007!

For complete disclosure purposes

I've been spending a lot of time over the past few days trying to come up with things that many of you don't know about me. This is a light exercise assigned to me by Bethany over at Mommy Writer. I've been such an open book and mostly have not censored my thoughts based on who may or may not be reading.

I have never felt compelled to do a list of this or that. They remind me of the junk email that well-meaning relatives forward around. They get to send email without really writing anything meaningful--they just hit the forward button. This exercise is sort of like that because it's a relatively easy way to write a post without being all that creative. But since Bethany writes one of my favorite blogs, I read her 5 Things list and I actually learned something--something about her outside of her crazy busy writing life.

So in the spirit of trying new things, not being negative, and sharing juicy tidbits...

5 things you probably don't know about me:

1. I had a fling with a cast member from the first season of Survivor. The fling took place years before Survivor. I was in college, it was a lovely summer in Colorado, and life was so uncomplicated.
2. I wrote about said relationship in the San Francisco Bay Guardian and in the Colorado Daily.
3. I was a paid extra in the movie Sweet November starring Keanu Reeves and Charlize Theron. My Volkswagen Cabrio was also a paid extra.
4. In the mid-80s, not long after Madonna came out with her second album Like a Virgin, two friends and I won third place and $25 in a talent show for lip-syncing Material Girl. I portrayed Madonna. Poorly, I might add.
5. My mom (center of bottom picture) is a bellydance instructor. As a result, I know some moves. When I was in high school, I got all dressed up and did a demonstration in front of my class. It seemed like a good idea...

When I started this exercise, it was fun thinking about the exciting things I did in my past. In the end, however, it's sort of sad and pathetic that all the exciting, daring, gutsy things I did in my life happened 10-plus years ago. I can only hope that I don't continue to get lamer and lamer and more predictable as the years go by. If that does happen, at least I have these few things (and some others that didn't make the list) to think back on with a little smile.

UPDATE: I guess I didn't know all the rules of the game. So to continue the fun, I tag: Father in Chief, Grampy, Babs, Bay Area Shutter Babe, and Erika-Renee. Go forth and share.

The New Yorker of women's magazines

How could I be a writer and an intellectual, thinking mother and not know about Brain, Child magazine? It is fabulous and smart! And while I'm thrilled to now finally be a subscriber, I'm bummed that I didn't know about it for the first three-and-a-half years of parenthood. I proudly shout it accolades as a reader and I aspire to be a contributor. Along with completing my non-fiction book, it is a 2007 goal. I'd like to thank Aspiring-Writer Friend for introducing me to it. And not a moment too soon. Please excuse me if the rest of you already knew about it.

The articles remind me of the bright and thought-provoking pieces I read in Literary Mama, the compilation of essays assembled by Andi Buchanan. Brain, Child is the antithesis of mainstream parenting magazines. You know the ones I'm talking about. The ones that can't get beyond the child part of parenting. The ones with all the how-tos on creating a well-rounded, good-natured kid who is a good eater and a good sleeper and is good at sharing and never bites and always picks up his toys before starting a new project. Those kids always eat all of their peas and can wipe their own butts the moment they figure out how to climb up on the potty themselves. And if they don't do all of those things--or didn't do them at the right moment on the developmental chart--well, then you probably didn't read the articles properly.

Don't get me wrong. I subscribed to those magazines in the beginning too--probably before my baby was even born. I even saved articles that I believed would eventually come in handy on the aforementioned topics. But then I realized much of what they offered was mostly gloss with little substance. They fed my desire to create the perfect kids and to be a smiley, happy mom, but my brain was hungry for information that pointed towards the more realistic side of parenting. The part that acknowledges that parenting is hard, is not always pretty, and does not always include the time to make the really cute cupcakes. Brain, Child nurtures the moms in the two-person parenting equation.

I've been savoring every article in my first issue as a Brain, Child subscriber. I've enjoyed it so much that subscriptions--and/or copies of the Greatest Hits--have been given to friends for Christmas. I even subscribed my friend on the receiving end of our Secret Santa gift exchange. I'm singing its praises because I want this to be a successful magazine that continues to fuel the brains of smart moms everywhere. I especially enjoyed the current issue's debate on prenatal sex selection. It amplifies what my lively debates with Laid-Off Dad for Oxygen Media's Oh! Baby blog were missing--the space to delve into a topic. Oh! was pithy and fun, while Brain, Child's version offers substance and compelling arguments without being dry.

So there you have it. Read, learn, think, grow. Finally a parenting magazine for me.

How about work and kids?

Would a three-year paid maternity leave change your life? Would you have guilt-free parenting? How about the luxury of not having to choose family over work or work over family? And easing back into the workforce? How about going back to a guaranteed job? It's a dream here, but reality elsewhere.

On our drive home from a Christmas party on Saturday, there was a story on the radio about the generous three-year paid maternity leaves that French women get. Then at the end of three years, there is universal, full-time preschool and guaranteed jobs awaiting the returning moms. After a little investigation, I found an article about this in the Washington Post from October. I guess KCBS was airing some Saturday night fillers. Still, I was thinking about how different things would be if all women were given such generous and rightly-deserved programs in this country. Many women here--including my Bank Friend--get a six-week maternity leave before heading back to work. These inadequate leaves not only affect who is raising our kids, but also other personal decisions like whether or not to breastfeed. Bank Friend felt it would be too overwhelming to try and get her baby to nurse only to have to transition to bottles and formula so quickly.

This lack of options leads to picking one or the other. Work? Or Baby? And in my case, since there is no actual job to return to, the thought of searching for a job and interviewing is very intimidating. I've been out of work since early 2003, and I'm sure I'm a bit rusty. There's also a big gap in my resume now. And sadly, "Motherhood" isn't always an acceptable resume place-holder. In some cases, it's probably a liability because companies might equate parenthood with someone who will need time off for sick kids or someone who won't want to work 50 or 60 hours a week. But in France, where the leaves are extensive and paid, women don't have to choose. They get both. Be with the kids until they are three years old, then head back to work.

France heavily subsidizes children and families from pregnancy to young adulthood with liberal maternity leaves and part-time work laws for women. The government also covers some child-care costs of toddlers up to 3 years old and offers free child-care centers from age 3 to kindergarten, in addition to tax breaks and discounts on transportation, cultural events and shopping.

These programs were started because France was hoping to boost its birthrate, and it worked. According to the article, France now has the second-highest fertility rate in Europe. There are 1.94 children born per woman, slightly lower than Ireland's rate of 1.99. The fertility rate in the U.S. is 2.01 children per woman. "Politicians realized they had to encourage people to have more babies if they didn't want to live in a country of old people," said France Prioux, director of research for France's National Institute of Demographic Studies in the article.

This summer, the government--concerned that French women still were not producing enough children to guarantee a full replacement generation--very publicly urged French women to have even more babies. A new law provides greater maternity leave benefits, tax credits and other incentives for families who have a third child. During a year-long leave after the birth of the third child, mothers will receive $960 a month from the government, twice the allowance for the second child.

As a result, 75 percent of all French mothers with at least two children are employed, according to the article. If only we had half of those benefits here...