Parents Say The Darndest Things

I am a public school teacher and proud of what I do.  Reading intervention is my specialty.  I take education very seriously and feel that my time as a teacher has exposed me to the ins and outs of public school, private school, and homeschooling.  In light of this, let's just say I have pretty strong feelings about education and appropriate placement for students.

No matter where you stand on the issue of school placement, I heard a comment from a parent the other that would/should shock and disappoint anyone.  A mother at my son's preschool mother actually told me that she was considering not sending child to public school in our district because the district has a healthy-eating policy that prohibits students from bringing cupcakes on their birthdays.  Now, I am not a fan of the no cupcake-birthday ban, but I certainly can understand its foundation and furthermore cannot begin to comprehend how this would impact a parent's decision about their child's schooling--especially given the fact that this student has a speech issue that is currently going untreated and likely would continue going untreated in the private schools the parents are considering.  What a shame.  I feel so bad for this child, because I see so many children with the same stumbling block given my line of work.

I've heard a lot of excuses for not sending children to public school and this one was the worst.

How Did This Happen?

I'm now in my 39th weeks pregnant with my third son.  I've made no secret that I'm not a huge fan of being pregnant and now I must admit to the fact that I'm...just plain HUGE.  I told myself I wouldn't get this way this time...but I let it happen.  I gave myself license to eat things I would never normally touch.  Because of my discomfort, I stopped exercising, which I had vowed not to do.  Basically, I had planned on doing "everything right" this time around.  Ummm...not so much.

Back during the summer between junior high and high school my battle with weight began.  I packed on a good 20 to 30 pounds that summer.  From there I yo-yo'ed up and down for most of high school.  I used to gain and lose weight so quickly that I once "outgrew" my clothes while on our family's two-week vacation and had to wear my dad's jeans.  No teenage girl wants that to happen.

My senior year in high school, I finally got all of the weight off and dropped to about 108.  I went on the most unhealthy of weight loss plans--I barely ate.  Mixed with my new love of swimming on the swim team, I was what I thought to be fabulously slim and trim.  That is until one day a friend told me that I was a little too slim and trim.  She had me look in the mirror and pointed out to my purtruding collar bones.  I was not just thin but way too thin.  She told that I was so thin that I was wasting away and that she couldn't see me any more until I got my problem under control.  That was a wake-up call for me.

For most of college and into my married life, I had my weight issues under control.  I straddled the line between thin and too thin carefully and tried not to get to hard on myself when I would fluxuate by five pounds every now and then.

After my first baby, I lost most of the weight within the first year or so.  With my second child, I lost most of the weight in about a year too, but that year was very, very difficult for me.  I fell into my old feelings about my body and let my issues about weight consume me.  My body image and how I appeared to people around me plagued my thoughts. 

And now, I'm huge again.  I've never made it this far in a pregnancy; my other sons had already been born by this far along.  I'm so incredibly uncomfortable, it is hard for me to move, which means I just keep getting bigger and bigger.  (I swear that this baby is going to rip through my ribs at any moment.)  It's gotten to the point that I don't even want to look at myself in the mirror when I'm wearing a tank top or (GASP) naked.

I have a feeling in the months to come, I will be dealing a lot with my weight issues and the troubling roller coaster of pounds and emotions I have been on since I was so very young.  It's my thing, it makes me crazy, and I will undoubtedly be putting a lot of pressure on myself to look like I used to.  I'm just warning you now, because this will probably be the place where I vent and cry and whine.

Because That's How I Roll

Do you hate those people with all of the plastic toys in the front yard? So white trash, right? Well, here's my front yard today.


I hate me too. Here's the thing. I can't get an internet signal in the backyard, so this morning I dragged all of my kids' crap stuff to the front yard so I could sit on my porch in the cool So Cal breeze and relish in the discomfort of the sweet, sweet baby who is late at coming out early and sip juice boxes.

On top of it all, my kids think I'm super cool for setting up a different place to play with the same old junk. I'm pretty ok with life's little victories.

Desperate Times Call for...Salad

Today I loaded the kids and we drove a whole 3.5 miles to the locally-famous Caioti Pizza Cafe in Studio City.  This small restaurant located across the street from the restaurant Robert Blake made famous, Vitello's, is known for it's labor-inducing salad.  I know it sounds crazy, if you search the restaurant's name or "labor salad" online, the two are found side-by-side throughout the web.  The labor-inducing property is supposed to be the dressing. 

I'm not at my due date yet, but this is the farthest I've gotten in either of my other two pregnancies and I can honestly say that I am beyond miserable.  My back and ribs are killing me and I feel like the baby has a foot just below my arm pit.  I'm tired...really tired and in constant pain.  Already, little baby "C" is bigger than my other boys were when they were born and in my book...he's ready to come out.

I ordered a half order of "the salad" and a cheese pizza for us to split.  The salad was served up with to log books and other literature attesting to its success.  I'm not going to lie, the salad was amazingly delicious...and that's not just the pregnancy appetite talking.  The boys played with their toys while I mowed down "the salad" and filled in my own page of the infamous journal.  While I was eating it, I noticed an older couple in the corner of the restaurant anxiously watching me, as if I was going to go into labor and push out the baby with the aid of the young, way-too-cool wait staff.

The waiter enthusiastically told me that just yesterday he served a woman her salad and after eating it her water broke at the restaurant before she and her husband had finished their meals.  It's been about three hours and I've felt no contractions.  My water has not broken.  In fact, I don't feel any different than before lunch--still miserable.  Now I'm wondering if I should have ordered a whole salad instead of half a salad.  I'm also wondering if it's just the law of averages when it comes to "the salad."  When you have that many women in the final days and weeks of their pregnancies ordering the same thing, you are bound to have some of them go into labor soon thereafter, right? 

Nonetheless, in the days or weeks (oh don't let it be weeks...) of my final pregnancy, I am glad that I have taken part in an L.A. tradition.  And here's to the labor-inducing salad.  Everyone cross your fingers (please!) that it works tonight!

A Secret Hiding Place

Kids love secret hiding places--forts, treehouses, clubhouses. My kids love to build forts out of blankets and hide away in their Star Wars tents for hours. My friend Pam and I have a fantasy of a hide away of our own. We talk about it all the time--nothing fancy, of course. We dream about a place where we can just get away to every once in a while, perhaps a studio apartment. This amazing place would be girly and stylish. It would be free of toys and other small debris that make you scream in the night when their sharp edges jab into your bare feet. It would be a place where the freezer was always stocked with the ice cream and Lean Cuisines WE like and where it is perfectly acceptable to watch Lifetime movies without criticism. There would be no apple juice in the fridge or raisins between the sofa cushions.

Most importantly, this place has two beds. They are soft, comfy beds...and no one steals the covers. And speaking of these beds, while in them, no one wakes us up at the crack of dawn requesting a cup of milk or to watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. This place is the girls' hideaway that we half joke about sharing one day. It's a place where we can go for a night--together or alone--to just get from it all and come back to our families recharged and refreshed. No laundry. No dishes to clean. No bottoms to wipe.

I love my family more than anything on this planet, but sometimes it's nice to just get a little peace and quiet and remember who I was before I possessed "working boobs." Sometimes, it's nice to imagine a place like the apartment I had before I got married. Pam and I lived on the same street when we lived in our single gal apartments, and I sometimes think we are dreaming of very similar hideaways when we discuss our grand plans. It would be a place where we can just zen out and ponder all of the day-to-day little things and life-altering big things that we all allow to fly around in our brains but never have enough time to contemplate.

Let's be real. I would never do it. We would never do it. Financially, it's crazy and well, the idea of being able to get away for a night more than once every four years is completely unrealistic. My family needs me too much and I need them too--plus I would feel way too guilty leaving them for my own needs. Pam and I will, however, continue dreaming and talking about our little piece of paradise for years to come--over giant dinners at Lucille's and delicious desserts at Yogurtland.

And even greater than our daydreams about our hideaway is my friendship with Pam because it provides me with a getaway in and of itself. We came together through college, our sorority, and living on the same street...and several other ways as well proving that we were always bound to be friends. I know that I can make it though the ups, downs, good, and bad of motherhood because we are doing it together. I know that she is just an email, texts, or phone call away when I need her and more often than not my conversations with her--long or short--are all I need to recharge and refresh.

I love my friend Pam and you will too. Stop by her blog, Mom is a Four-Letter Word.

Rights for Breastfeeding Mothers

It was announced today that it is now "illegal" to tell a woman she cannot breastfeed in a public place in the state of Wisconsin. The bill, signed in to law today, allows women to nurse their children in a public or private places so long as she is permitted to be there by law.

Wait. Are you kidding me with this? Was it actually "illegal" to breastfeed a hungry child in Wisconsin in a public or private place before? That seems unbelievable. You wouldn't tell a mother she can't give her baby a bottle, so how dare someone say you can't nurse your child? The kicker is that only 40 other states have such rights signed into law for mothers and babies. What?!

Here's more on the law...
Breast feeding in public is permissible, thanks to a new WI law - WXOW News 19 La Crosse, WI – News, Weather and Sports |

And for the record, I'm not a granola mom who whips it out in public without considering those around me. I am always covered up and not only make sure no one can see "where" the nursing is taking place, but try to ensure no one can see any other skin as well. If you are a nursing mom and looking for a great solution to cover up while nursing, stop by my blog and enter to win a Cover Me Strap. These straps turn baby blankets, towels, etc. into a nursing cover. It's fabulous!

Happy Birthday, Dr. Seuss

During a conference today, we suggested to a parent that he should read Dr. Seuss to his student so that she could hear examples of rhyming. He had the following questions:

1. "Is the Dr. Seuss something I can find on the internet?"

2. After explaining that they are popular books he asked, "Can I get these Dr. Seuss at the Nobles?"

3. After explaining it is available at Barnes and Noble I suggested he go to the library. He asked if the library would let him borrow the books for free.

4. "Do I actually have to read the books to my (kindergarten) daughter? Are you sure she can't just do something with this Dr. Seuss online?"

Happy birthday, Dr. Seuss. It's pretty sad that some of today's parents would rather sit their kids in front of web entertainment than read your books. Pretty sad.

Friendship Values

Years ago I experienced a painful "break up" with a friend.  If you haven't experienced it, you're lucky.  A break up with a friend can be just as upsetting and unsettling as a break up with a boyfriend or signficant other.  The thing about friend break ups, is that they aren't always as clear cut and easy to figure out.  When I experienced my break up, I was pretty bummed and dumbfounded.    We had been friends for years, closer than close, and did everything together.  When we lived together, it wasn't uncommon for us to get mail addressed to the two of us as if we were a couple.

About nine years ago, this friend cut me off cold turkey.  I was devastated.  After a number of phone calls went unanswered, I sent her a marathon email apologizing for anything I could have possibly done to upset her.  I never got a response.  I just couldn't understand how someone I had been so close to couldn't take the time to even respond to me to let me know what I had done and why our relationship was over. 

A friend who knows both of us was very helpful in assisting me to get over the end of this important relationship.  She comforted me by telling me that perhaps our friendship values were just different.  I was intrigued by this concept.  She went on to say that maybe for my former friend, her expectations of friendship and what she needed out of a friend were different than mine.  Some people only want friends who will tell them what they want them to hear and others don't.  Some people need friends who are around 24-7 and others see great value in their friends, even if they only speak to them or see them a couple of times per year.  She went on to explain that people need and expect different support and interactions from their friends.  She suspected that our mutual friend perhaps didn't internalize friendships as deeply as I did and perhaps needed something I couldn't provide her.

I'm so grateful for this life lesson.  Up until that point, it had never dawned on me that everyone I knew didn't have the same wants and needs when it came to friendships.  As for me, I grew up without a sister and always had lots of friends who as coincidence would have it, moved away.  For me, when I have a friend, I am very excepting of the time apart and thankful for the time together.  I appreciate my friends' honesty, supportive criticism, and encouragement--no matter the dosage.  I have learned that I might not agree with everything my friends say or do, but they are still my friends and I accept them for who they are.  Perhaps even more importantly, I have learned that when a friendship's negative or nonbeneficial interactions and attributes out weight the positive, it's time to terminate the relationship, and that's ok.  All friendships are not meant to last forever.  Some are meant to benefit us for a short amount of time and some friendships are relationships that we will engage in at only certain times in our lives.

Taking a close look at my friendship values has been one of my most important life lessons.  When you have some free time (stop laughing--I know that's rare!), think about your own friendship values.  More importantly, think about how your friendship values match up to the friendship values of those in your life.  If you are reading this, you are probably one of my friends and I am very, very thankful to have you in my laugh.

Oh, Maternity Clothes!

Dear Maternity Clothes,

I'd like to start this letter by saying that I understand that you have a very difficult job. You have the task of clinging on and/or around an ever-changing belly, spreading butt, and expanding bust. I understand that you are covering the body of a very over-emotional woman who seems to have lost all sense of ability to not spill food all over herself or be able to hold her pee every time she coughs and sneezes.

Here's the thing, Maternity Clothes. Why do you have to be so damn ugly and unflattering. I mean seriously. Is it so hard to get a properly placed crotch on a pair of jeans? Is it that hard to mimic regular jeans? Are large ruffles necessary? I recently won some "high end" maternity clothes in a blog giveaway. While I'm thankful for the new clothes, the apparel (which is proudly designed by women who have never had children), have giant ruffles on them and one of the "stylish" dresses looks like a horrible bag. Do you know what those ruffles do to a pregnant woman? My big belly simply pushes those ruffles into the faces of oncoming pedestrians. Oh, and the bag dress makes me look like a black and white weather balloon with pockets.

This time around, my last time around, I've opted to wear as many nonmaternity clothes as possible. After having dealt with you in two other pregnancies, Maternity Clothes, I have decided that enough is enough and I'm simply not going to tolerate you. This time around, I purchased very few of you and opted to hunt down regular, nonmaternity clothes that were forgiving. Your ugliness, terrible fit, and poor quality found you out of much of your normal work this time around.

Good riddens,
Me

P.S.
I you have not been pregnant, you should not be able to design maternity clothes. Women modeling maternity clothes should be pregnant--and not just a little pregnant, but REALLY pregnant. And finally, if you are going to design maternity clothes, please try them on pregnant women of all ages and stages before pushing them on the public!

I'm Thankful for Blogging

Yesterday I was down in the dumps and being able to blog saved my sanity. Just typing out my thoughts and feelings made me feel so much better.

I think I was "made to blog." I love to write but could never really stick to the journal thing. And while I don't consider myself an attention whore, I do like the idea of there being some sort of audience for my words. It doesn't have to be big...just enough to get occasional feedback.

I have several book ideas that I have tons of material for, but with the kids, it's hard to discipline myself to get the work done. Blogging satisfies my need to write in small doses. Sometimes I blog more than once a day and sometimes I'll let a a week or so pass before I blog again. Blogging is like my little drug and I love it.

One Big Ball of Hormones

I'm now 32 weeks pregnant and I can honestly say that I am one big ball of very emotional hormones. I feel like I have the worst case of PMS on the planet. My fuse is short. I've been crying all day. I've gotten frustrated by the simplest things. I feel like I'm going to jump out of my skin. (That's a fun one.) You know, as if it's not bad enough that I'm swollen (I'm telling myself I'm swollen even though I know I'm actually just FAT), uncomfortable, and achy from my giant belly, but I have the added bonus of being an emotional wreck as well?! I mean come on!!!!

To all of you out there who just LOVED being pregnant, I just don't get it. I mean...really? You "loved" it? Which parts exactly? You "loved" the food aversions? You adored swollen feet and/or ankles? You thought watching your otherwise flat stomach turn into a veiny beach ball was totally hot? Please tell me which part you loved. I'm dying to hear the great part.

Look, I know that the great part of pregnancy comes at the end when I get to meet my beautiful new baby boy and hold him in my arms (and smell like breastmilk and look like a train wreck for the next 9-12 months), but all that aside, let's be real. God must be a man because a woman would never make another woman go through the agony of pregnancy considering what you have to go through with a newborn in the aftermath.

I'm just sayin'.

They Came From Far and Wide...

They came from far and wide Saturday to buy our junk. We had a yard sale. Call it what you want: yard sale, tag sale, garage sale. I call it a study in the strange and desperate. Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of yard sales--both giving and browsing at--but there's something about the yard sale phenomenon that intrigues me.

My like for yard sales goes back to my college days. My mom and I attended estate sales almost every Friday to find treasure we couldn't live without and those we could sell at a profit at an antique store we rented space at in Orange County. I loved it. By Thursday nights I was craving the adrenaline of pushing past gray haired ladies at Leisure World to grab a great antique French cup and saucer. I could imagine the great pieces of furniture I would stumble upon and put in my apartment. I yearned for the treasured surprises the professional estate sale hosts would set aside for me because they "knew my tastes." The deals were like drugs and the sense of history behind the items we purchase thrilled me to no end.

My fascination with other people's junk/treasures continued when I got married. I maintained the estate sale love but had to give up the store because it decided to focus on "reproductions" instead of the real thing. My husband and I took it up a notch and started frequenting antique auctions and eventually furnished a lot of our home with beautiful things we had purchased together at auction and estate sales.

Once the kids came, we had to give it all up. You can't really take a baby into the tight spaces of an old person's apartment. Strollers to don't fit and small grabbing hands don't mix well with delicate pieces of crystal. Once in a while when we see an estate sale sign, we pull over so that I can do a once over inside and tell my husband if it's worth getting the kids out of the carseats to go in. And, of course, it's not the same. I'm not plotting my estate sale route the night before in the Thomas Guide and scouring the ads for what appears to be the sale with best stuff.Now our searches are passive and happenstance. We stop by yard sales and estate sales because we are in the neighborhood, not as a fun hobby.

And this leads me to having our own yard sales. Like I said, yesterday we had a BIG one that we hosted at our house with two other families. It was the first weekend in some time in which it wasn't raining; it was a gorgeous sunny day. The high hit 80 degrees and yard sale attendees were out in droves. And among those droves, we experienced all sorts of "interesting" people. Here are some of my favorites and not-so-favorites.

• You always have your bickering people--the people who want to fight with you and tell you your prices are too high. Those are the people you want to shout at and say, "It's my junk and I'll change what I want! You can't walk into Target and tell them you think they change too much for their sheets and you can't tell me that either!"

• I love the old guys who are clearly just "doing the yard sale circuit" so that they can get away from their wives for the morning. They are always looking for similar stuff--records, tools, fishing equipment, etc. They are totally pleasant to talk to and just happy to meet up with their buddies who also do the circuit. I love it when they talk about the morning's take and where they are headed next. It cracks me up.

• The people who pretend they don't speak English. You know 'em. This is how the exchange with them goes.
• Them: "How much (in a thick accent)?"
• Me: $1.
• Them: 50 cent?
• Me: No. $1.
• Them: Uhhh... 50 cent? (Accompanied by puzzled look.)
  
• Me: No! $1!
• Them: 50 cent? (Still unsure.)
  
• Me: NO! (And giving them my most disapproving teacher look.)
  
• Them: Pull out a $5 bill to pay for the $1 item.

• The people who try on our clothes at the sale and then wear them to their cars. So gross. Even worse...the people who try on our clothes and then leave them.

And then there's the characters who can't be characterized...

• Our friends were selling one of those whirlpool foot spas. It was brand new (still wrapped) but one side of the box had been opened. The woman looked at it and asked if it worked. I told her that it did (which made her happy) and then told her that it had never been used, in order to sweeten the deal. This comment brought her great disappointment. She was actually bummed that someone else's skill cells weren't clogging the thing up. So gross.

• The grossest guy of the day was the man who will go down in history at "the poopy Nazi." He walked up the driveway wearing some sort of military hat. He was disabled with a metal cane and a crippled hand. I immediately felt bad for him and thought he was a vet. He walked straight up to me and started to ask if I had any knives, bayonets (oh and I can honestly say this is the first time I've never had to spell the word "bayonets" before), riffles, or guns. I thought he was kidding and told him no. He went on to ask if I had a laundry list of other items that included daggers, shrunken heads (I'm not kidding), or Nazi memorabilia. It was at this point that I realized the smell of poop wafting in my direction. I was feeling as though I might gag. He kept going and talking. He started talking to me about his Nazi artifact collection and the fact that he reads Hitler's teachings. In the meantime, all of our friends stood far away and laughed that I was now the winner of talking with the craziest person of the day. When they took pitty on me and finally walked over, I made a mad dash into the house with an excuse so pathetic I can't remember it.

In the end, the day was a success. We had a blast laughing it up with our friends, enjoyed a day without the boys, and made almost $300!

The Celebrity Life

The celebrity set seem to love to be hopitalized for "exhaustion." Now, I'm no dummy. I'm fully aware that "exhaustion" is code word for drug, alcohol, or insert-other-vice addiction. But in the case that exhaustion is really exhaustion, I would like to know if Kaiser covers exhaustion in my private health plan. I'm tired, really tired. I would love the chance to lay in a craft-o-matic adjustable bed, watch television, read, and be served meals (even crappy ones) without having to change diapers, clean the house, or tend to anyone's needs. I want a break from work, the kids, and responsibility. I don't have deep pockets, a personal assistant, nannies, housekeeper, or entrouge to make my life easier. Celebrities have it so much easier than moms like me, so I MUST be more more exhausted than they could ever be.

My name is Lisa and I suffer from exhaustion--the real kind. Contact my publicist for details.

Once a Princess, Always a Princess?

Back when I worked at Disneyland, I amassed quite a bit of Disney artwork, much of which is Snow White- or princess-themed. Until this time, I had found little places and bits of which in our house where I could fit it in without being overtly girly. With little boy number three on his way and the ways we have shifted furniture about and changed the rooms, it's time for it to go. All of it. There's no way I can slyly fit the "girls" into the house any longer. It's hard to say good-bye to my girls for a variety of reasons.

Saying good-bye to the princesses solidifies that there will be no little princess in our house and I will be the lone queen of this castle. It means the pieces I purchased during my college days (with my very limited, hard-earned funds) more than ten years ago need to be packed away, in addition to the hopes and love I may have had for them. I certainly bought each piece because I liked them a lot and I'm just not ready to sell them or give them away.

I know that I sound like one of those people on the show Hoarders. I know that my belongings don't define me. Nonetheless, I just can't part with them. I know that just because I will have three AMAZINGLY sweet and wonderful boys I will not be any less feminine or have to admire Disney princess films any less. The princesses don't make me a girl, but it's still hard to say good-bye to my girls. While the kindest thing I could do would be to give (or sell) them to another princess who will display and enjoy them, I will alas be locking them away (storing them in plastic storage containers) in a tower (the garage) until the day comes when I can part with them or give them to my granddaughters.

Blog Giveaway Round-up

There's lots of great giveaways in the blogosphere. Here's just some of them.


Bright Starts is giving one Two of a Kind Working On a Full House reader the InGenuity™ Automatic Bouncer™!

Family Travel Gear is giving one Two of a Kind Working on a Full House reader a Kids Car Organizer XL.

Over at The Bragging Mommy, Scholastic is giving away a grand prize and two first prizes. The grand prize includes two pottty training books and potty training bench. First prize winners will get one of the books. One is for princesses learning to go potty and the other is for little pirates. How cute is that?! Want ten more chances to win? Me and My Boys and Baby Loving Moma are both giving away the books (not the potty bench)--5 copies each!

1 lucky reader on The Mommy-Files will win a copy of “Mickey Mouse Clubhouse: Minnie’s Bow-Tique” on DVD!!!

One lucky reader of the blog Piece of Me will win a custom-made Two-Tier Diaper Cake from Gift the Bambino!

Evenflo is generously giving away an Evenflo Comfort Select Performance Single Auto Cycling Breast Pump to one lucky reader of The Bragging Mommy! I would so love to win this!

D3 Publisher has generously offered To give 5 different Mom Start readers copies of 30 Great Games Winter Fun for Wii.

I would love to win an Ergo Baby for baby #3 and Canadian Natural Mama is giving one away!

Want another chance to win a fabulous Ergo Baby carrier? There's lots of entry possibilities at New Age Mama!!!

And there's yet one more way to win an Ergo Baby carrier. Stop by Organic Girl to win!

One winner will receive both the Jeep Exploration Diaper Bag and the Jeep Shopping Cart Cover on Mommy Mandy.

One winner will receive a cozy sleeping sack from aden + anais on Mommy Mandy. Winner can choose the print/size.