Pulling the Santa card: Be good or else!

By LucyB | Friday, November 20, 2009, 02:59 AM

Afternoon preschool has been a challenge for my soon-to-be-4-year-old.

The 12:30 p.m. start cuts right into his natural naptime. He gets up at 8 a.m., eats breakfast, plays hard, eats lunch, then gets sleepy. I don’t blame him: My night-shift hours mean I’m generally ready for some shut-eye about that time too.

Tired kids are cranky kids!

But four days a week, I pack him off to school and put off his rest period till 3:30. (There wasn’t a spot for him in the morning class, or this wouldn’t be an issue.)

Yes, he’s all hepped up with unspent energy when he comes home (even though they have an active-play program at his school), but he still needs his sleep. Believe me.

When he misses his nap, he is bossy and cranky all afternoon and basically unbearable by dinnertime. It’s like living with a little tyrant.

If he sleeps for a few hours, he wakes up in time for dinner his normal sweet/feisty self then heads off to bed for the night at the same time as his older siblings, about 9:30 p.m. His agreeable mood makes the household so much more pleasant to be a part of!

But Hubby is between jobs right now, and our circadian rhythm has been off-kilter because he wants to stay up and play with his daddy.

All this week, he’s been fighting tooth-and-nail to skip the nap. But I’m not biting. His actions tell me he still needs the extra rest, so I most often insist on it. (There are occasional days when family activities preclude his nap, but we’ve tried to wire our three kids for flexibility.)

And here’s the crux of this blog: Today I pulled the Santa card on him when he was throwing down, violently protesting my nap “suggestion.”

“Santa can see you, you know. And you just made it onto his ‘bad’ list.”

I felt guilty as soon as I uttered the words. But boy did those crocodile tears dry up in a hurry!

He was soon calm and apologizing for his tantrum, asking if he could somehow work his way back into Santa’s good graces.

“Of course!” I said with a reassuring smile as I snuggled into bed beside him and gave him a pat.

Another myth perpetuated. Ah, childhood innocence. It can sometimes be used to our advantage. ;)

I was relating this “mommy confession” to a co-worker, who said she had used the same technique on her 3-year-old daughter, who quit diapers cold turkey when told that Santa Claus only brings toys to big girls who are potty-trained.

It may have seemed a bit cruel and manipulative at the time, but she’s 11 now and hasn’t suffered any ill effects. In fact, that girl will probably pull the Santa card on her own child someday.

And the coal-for-Christmas scare tactic can be employed at any age.

On a recent trip back to my home state of West Virginia, I was actually on the hunt for a gag gift for a mom friend. She said her two teenagers had been naughty and she was threatening to give them lumps of coal for Christmas.

But alas, I couldn’t find what I was looking for: a set of praying hands sculpted out of coal. Wouldn’t those young ladies flip if they opened that box first!

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Little tweaks on road to gender equality

By Jill Kelley | Thursday, November 19, 2009, 08:37 AM

I have never been what you would call a feminist; at least not in the colloquial sense.

Although I whole-heartedly agree that all rights of women should be equal to those of men, I have never been one to broadcast that credo.

To be honest, I didn’t have to. I was lucky enough to be born after most of the women’s rights battles had been waged and most of the speaking out had been done.

As a result, most of the doors had been opened for me and my generation, and our biggest challenge has been dealing with the mindset that remains.

As a kid, the gender bias was just a part of life. My parents had clearly defined roles. Despite the fact that they both worked outside of the home, my father was the bread-winner and my mother took care of the house and kids.

My sister and I were the ones told to do dishes, and weren’t allowed to see some movies that the boys got to see — even though we were both older than one of them. To this day, as a matter of principle, I have never seen “Alien.”

My father scrutinized the boys’ activities more than he did my sister’s and mine. We weren’t barred from taking part in anything, but that participation didn’t seem to matter much either.

But I was OK with that.

When I was around 8, my brother and I started playing Little League baseball. It was a boys’ league, but girls were allowed. There were four or five girls in the league and hundreds of boys.

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Even grandson will eat ravioli if it means time with Veteran grandpas

By Darci Jordan | Monday, November 16, 2009, 05:17 PM

GG, Noah and Great-Grandpa celebrate Veteran’s Day with a ravioli lunch.

On the eve of Veteran’s Day, I looked at the school lunch menu. Ravioli, salad and breadsticks. Not something Noah usually wants to eat.

I read the menu items to Noah and said, “Do you want to pack or buy your lunch tomorrow?” “Buy,” he replied. “Really? It’s ravioli.” “Yep! I have to show GG and Grandpa how to get through the lunch line,” he said.

I smiled to myself at his eagerness - and willingness to eat something he isn’t a big fan of - for the sake of his grandpa’s.

In addition to a lunch celebration, the students would be singing. Always a performer, Noah couldn’t wait to for his great-grandfathers to see him sing a patriotic song with his class for the visiting veterans. He practiced for days, “This is our flag, red, white and blue …”

When the big day finally arrived, I loaded up the family veterans: Great-Grandpa Paul who served in the Army and Great-Grandpa Charlie (aka “GG”) who served in the Navy during World War II.

We sat hungrily in our seats while the Kindergartners - clad in red, white and blue - marched onto the stage. Following their patriotic performance, Noah promptly gathered up his clan of family members and lined us up for lunch.

True to his word, Noah said, “Now GG, when you get past the black line on the floor, you can pick your milk.”

We sat at the V.I.P. lunch tables and chatted while eating (shock and awe moment: Noah even ate his salad). Students from other grades periodically filed into the lunchroom, sang a song, and matched up with the vets from their families.

It was an enjoyable afternoon - school lunches have definitely improved since my day -and Noah could not have been more proud to have his great-grandfathers in attendance.

Both of my boys are fascinated with the United States Military. Noah is awed by a person in fatigues and Nick can’t get enough of the Air Force planes running patterns over our home. Both of them don their miniature camouflage jackets and clothes with pride, saying they are “Army guys.”

Should they choose to follow in the footsteps of their great-grandfathers, I’ll be a proud, albeit tearful, fearful and prayerful, mother.

Many thanks to our Veterans and active military.

Email this contributing writer at Motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com.

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Parenting often depends on kids’ birth order

By Jill Kelley | Thursday, November 12, 2009, 08:37 AM

I think that I am ruining my firstborn. It is not intentional; actually, quite the contrary. But, more often than not, I have a tendency to react much less constructively to my oldest son than I do to his little brother.

I believe the problem is twofold: Since he was my first child, he is a test subject by default; and, secondly, I see so much of myself in him.

You might think that sharing characteristics would make a parent more sympathetic to a child’s behavior, and it does … at times. I am more patient with his highs and lows than his father is; but, then again, his father has to deal with me as well.

Most of the time, however, when I see these mirrored traits, it just makes me want to fix the kid; to allow him to skip over some of the stinging life lessons you have to endure and get right to the focused, confident, self-realized state you often don’t get to until your mid-30s.

Of course, I know this attempt to orchestrate his growth is unrealistic and potentially damaging. I know this as I sit here typing at work.

But when I am face to face with the kid, and he is playing with the drapes or writing on his shoe instead of finishing his homework, I can’t help but tell him (again) that he could make his life that much easier if he would just get the work done.

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10% off at MattelShop.com — Nov. 11 only!

By LucyB | Wednesday, November 11, 2009, 01:39 AM

We, dear readers, are invited to an “exclusive” Virtual Shopping Day at the new Mattel online store, MattelShop.com!

“As I see it, yes” — I still have the Mattel Magic 8 Ball that was under my Christmas tree way back in the 1970s!

TODAY ONLY — Nov. 11, 2009 — shoppers can purchase all the Mattel goodies that their virtual shopping cart can hold and receive free shipping and 10% off the bill using the promotional code MATTELMOM30.

Barbies, Hot Wheels, WHAC-A-MOLE, whatever: Bug your kids for their Christmas lists and start pointing and clicking.

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Are parents spanking less and yelling more?

By Jill Kelley | Thursday, November 5, 2009, 07:00 AM

There was an article in the New York Times last month that hit a little too close to home for me.

The article was titled, “For Some Parents, Shouting Is the New Spanking.”

It talked about how many of today’s parents find it less socially acceptable to spank their children and, as a result or for lack of a better option, have “incongruously and with regularity” become a generation that yells.

The article also said the yelling may be partly a releasing of stress for multitasking, overachieving, time-crunched adults.

Of course, as is the cosmic way of the world, I read this article the day after I had screamed at my 8- and 10-year-olds for coming to blows over a few pieces of leftover pizza.

In general, I feel like I yell at my kids too much, and it is true I have only spanked them a handful of times. And even by “spanked” I mean giving their bottoms a swat when they were little.

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Halloween about to give up the ghost

By Jill Kelley | Thursday, October 29, 2009, 07:06 AM

It is mere days before Halloween, and I have to ask: Do your kids have their costumes yet?

This might seem like a silly question, especially for parents of little ones who likely have had their beloved costumes (or at least plans for them) for months.

I ask because just the skeleton of that pink, pudgy love remains in my house. In fact, as I write this, my elementary-schoolers still don’t have a stitch of ghoulish garb, or anything remotely Halloween-y.

And, although they are just fine with that, it is kind of bumming me out. I mean, it wasn’t that long ago that we were searching in earnest for the perfect Harry Potter glasses, or trying to find a mask that wouldn’t cause the younger one to sport truly bloody knees.

Is it me or aren’t they a little young for the fascination to have worn off?

It’s not like I wasn’t warned. Last year, the then second- and fourth-graders showed a dropoff in interest from the year before.

At the time, I faulted premature visions of sugarplums for their sudden lack of Halloween luster.

But I can’t even fault St. Nick this year, since I also am the one bringing up Christmas.

“Why don’t you guys start your Christmas lists?” I asked them when they were bored a week or so ago.

“In October?” they asked.

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