The tyranny of stuff

Two or three weekly trips to the grocery store. A monthly Target run. A birthday party goodie bag. A McDonald’s Happy Meal toy. Drawings and craft projects brought home from preschool and daycare. Cool rocks and pine cones collected from a nature walk. A toy borrowed from a playmate. Every day more stuff walks into my small house than walks out, and pretty soon we’re going to run out of room!

Compared to most Americans, I don’t think we buy a lot of things. We recycle. We we even reuse things — putting nuts, dried fruit and leftovers in washed-out glass jars and making caterpillars out of old egg cartons.

But still the stuff piles up. Relentlessly. New books, DVDs, and clothes come in faster than I can get rid of...

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The seven-year itch

Growing up as a military kid, I never lived more than two or three years in the same place.

It was constant change, constant adjustment.

Just when I would start to feel settled, it would be time to move on. But lately, I find myself with the opposite predicament. I have the itch … Not THE itch, the one you need a cream for or the one that comes from being married for seven years (I have been married for almost 10!! — wow!). No, my seven-year itch is all about location.

As Hubby and I sat in the parking lot of our old college dorm recently with our third son sleeping quietly in the backseat, we reminisced about those good ol’ college days and how life has changed so much since then. Life was so simple then. Although if you’d have asked me during those...

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Still waiting for words

Yesterday we celebrated my son’s second birthday. Having just thrown a Little Pony/Polly Pocket/Barbie party for my 4-year-old, I was looking forward to something a little simpler, like a baseball birthday cake.

Of course, as usually happens with birthdays, I spent some time reflecting on the past year and all the changes that have taken place. Last year at this time he still couldn’t walk so we hauled him around in his car seat carrier, surely violating some weight and height codes. He was just starting to grasp the concept of sign language, and we were sure that actual words would follow shortly.

Here we are, one year later, and he still speaks at the level of a 9- or 10-month-old. My two girls were late talkers so I...

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Is this baby my last baby?

I gave birth to my third child right after Christmas — a baby boy. He joins his 2½-year-old brother and 4½-year-old sister. So I now have three children under the age of 5. And when people say to me (as they often do), “You must have your hands full,” I enthusiastically agree with them.

Even though my baby is only 2 months old and I am certainly not planning to become pregnant in the near future, my husband and I have already found ourselves wondering, “Is this baby our baby?”

We had always planned to have at least three children (although my husband claims to want closer to six!). Throughout my last pregnancy, I reminded myself often that I should experience everything as though it were my last go-around with...

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Relying on the kindness of friends

Some people are natural givers. They continually give time, food and an abundance of help to the people around them. They are the ones that bring over a meal when you are sick, or take your two babies for a few hours (even though they have five kids themselves!), just so you can survive a rough patch. In my community, so closely tied to the University of Chicago (where the cult of individuality is said to run rampant), I have experienced more kindness and generosity than at any other time and place in my life.

Perhaps I’ve also needed it more than at any other time in my life. Having children has definitely brought me to my knees on more than one occasion.

I am not a natural giver. Looking back at my family, I realize,...

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Winter has lost its luster

We’re not even through January and I am done with snow, ice and bitter cold. We’re in the midst of the coldest winter in eight years and the first brutally cold season I’ve endured with small children.

It’s rough. Just heading to the car involves wrangling hands into mittens and arms into coats. There are necks that need wrapping, heads that need hatting, feet that need socks pulled up and boots yanked on. Halfway through the process we may decide the weather warrants snowpants as well and we have to remove scarves, coats and boots to get on the padded overalls. G-d forbid a kid decides she needs to pee.

But worse than the gear is the cabin fever. I long for the days when a touch of boredom could be solved with a...

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Don’t be scared

Ask anyone who knew me as a child and they will say one thing: “Janelle was so timid.” At a very young age, I hated getting dirty, dogs freaked me out and I was completely afraid of water. I grew up in Southern California and you would think a California girl would LOVE the water. But not me. I can’t even swim.

I remember when my mom signed my sister and me up for swimming lessons. As my sister quickly progressed and was swimming in the deep end, I was still holding onto the edge of the pool learning how to dunk my face in the water. How pathetic! Even today, I’ll step in the ocean or a pool, but don’t ask me to go past 5 feet … ain’t gonna happen!

This really scares me. Not the fear of water itself, but...

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Paying for grades?

Not so long ago, during my school days, I remember taking my report card home for my mother to see. Sometimes I was proud to show it off and other times, well, I could have done a wee bit better. The fact is that doing well and trying my hardest was something that was expected of me. It was a “you must” not a “well if you feel like trying” issue. Cut and dry, black and white … “do your best” was the only option.

When we did well the most we could expect was a pat on the back or a verbal “job well done.” Never did we receive rewards, especially monetary rewards, for doing something that was just plain expected of us. Things seemed to have changed quite a bit since I was a kid, that’s for sure.

On the...

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Full-time child care when you don’t need it

By Mary Anne Mohanraj CHICAGO MOMS BLOG

So I’m feeling weird about the whole nanny-share, full-time care thing we’re starting in January. We’ve found this semester that the 3 ½ days of care we currently have (8-5 Monday, Wednesday and Friday; 9-1 Saturday), is basically enough to cover our teaching responsibilities (prep, teach, grade), admin work (mostly Kevin’s, although I have some stuff), and household needs. But it leaves no time for math research or writing fiction. I’ve squeezed out a bit of time here and there, as has Kevin, but we’re both really starting to feel the need for more time. Hence, turning to a nanny-share so we can afford full-time care (probably...

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Confession: I sleep when the baby sleeps

By Shannon Cappana CHICAGO MOMS BLOG

(MCT)

Everybody advises new moms to sleep when the baby sleeps. I remember one such woman who gave me this advice, while I was still pregnant.

“A lot of moms feel guilty sleeping when the baby sleeps,” she said.

“Why?!” I asked.

“Well, a lot of moms feel like they should be getting something else done.”

“That’s silly,” I said. Little did I know that when you birth a child, that giant void in your uterus is filled with all-consuming, irrational guilt. That’s probably the reason your stomach is never flat again.

I admit that I didn’t feel totally...

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