New England Mamas

Titles. Tags. And labels. STAY AWAY!

I was at the playground yesterday with the boys. There were 4 other mothers standing around next to me watching their kids play.

None of us had ever met, but we all had kids that were about the same ages - 5 and under.

Out of the 5 of us there, 4 of us had 3 children.  So there were 14 kids playing together.  It was very cute.

But then one of the little boys started crying because his older sister “by mistake” threw sand at him.

This mother (obviously embarrassed) ran over to diffuse the sibling situation.

As she was doing her “thing,” one of the other mothers asked the group of mothers, “So which one is your cry baby?”

Cry baby!? Gee… great term for your child.

All of us were a little stunned by the bluntness.  After all, we just met.

But then… she goes on.

“My oldest is my cry-baby. All he does is whine. My middle daughter is an emotional roller coaster. Drama. Drama. Drama. She’s up, she’s down. And my youngest is my shining star. He’s the easiest child.”

So let me digest.

Older one = cry baby.

Middle one = drama.

Youngest = star.

Can’t see this not messing them up at all. And let me interject that her youngest is exactly Benjamin’s age. He just turned one last week. Let’s face it, anything could happen.

I just sat there listening to 2 of the other mothers “labeling” their kids too. Shy. Outgoing. Reserved. Little clown. Attention-getter. My athlete. My bookworm. Needy. My messy one.

AND LET ME REPEAT… the kids are all 5 and under!  Not one of them is in kindergarten yet! 

And the list went on.

I just kept remembering a family friend once telling my parents in front of Jane and me as kids… “Well, I can tell who the little shy one is out of these two.”

It was me. I must have been about 7 or 8 years old. And I have never forgotten that comment. I never had thought of myself as shy, my parents certainly never called me out on it. I just remember thinking, even at the young age, I will NEVER do that to my kids. I always respected my parents for never “labeling” or “tagging” or putting “titles” to any of us 4 kids.

So William, Alex and Ben… yes, you all have different personalities. It’s a beautiful thing to see. And yes, one of you is a little more comfortable in group situations. And yes, one of you likes to be holding my hand. And yes, one of you attracts a lot of attention from strangers with your funny little antics.

But you will never know which one it is. At least not from me. All of you are the funniest… cutest… most outgoing… and most LOVED little men in my life!

Old me vs. New Me

I was chatting with a college friend last night on the phone.

She’s not married (yet!).

No kids (yet!).

Lives in NYC.

Works in the fashion industry and gets some AWESOME designer duds for free (or at least a very good discount!) once in awhile.

Lives in a beautiful high rise with a gym and pool in the building.

Oh - and doorman…

Dines out every night (or at least orders in!).

Actually reads the NY Times.

Takes a cab to work.

And if she works late - gets a car service.

She sleeps late on weekends and workouts every night.

I almost have to repeat that just to make it sink in - she sleeps LATE on weekend and workouts EVERY night…

OH MY GOD - THIS WAS ME BEFORE KIDS!

As my friend and I were chatting and she was getting “beeps” while we were talking about where people were meeting up that night… and she was putting on makeup while she was talking to me and trying to figure out what to wear…

I was being interrupted by a little man upstairs screaming “MOMMY - I’m wet!”… I had 2 storage containers in my living room as I sorted through maternity clothes… and I kept noticing while I was on the phone that my feet kept sticking to the ground in certain spots (hmmm… grape juice!?).

It’s so funny that the “old” me is gone. Believe me, I’m still the lip-singing in the car… make me laugh so hard I WILL pee… can imitate people fairly well… definitely still care about what I wear and what kind of bag I carry…

But the “old” me? Even though I’m 29 years old… she’s gone. She used to live in NYC, working for Donna Karan, without kids. She used to take cars to work and run sample sales and workout every night. She used to do sushi and order in pizza or Thai food. She used to go to Starbucks every morning for a large coffee and cinnamon scone. She used to read Vogue and Bride Magazine. She used to live in a high rise building and have an apartment which overlooked 58th street and Columbus Circle.

But me “now” ... well, it’s a new version of me!

I’m still the same “old” Audrey, but, like I know now… just a luckier one!

Do we all have to get along?

I’m very lucky. Right now all of my sons' friends have cool mothers.

Especially one of them. Tara and I met on this random day last year at the Kids Library Hour.

We just hit it off from the start, and since then she has turned into one of my best friends. 

And even beyond that, my Alexander and her son are exactly the same age. It couldn’t get any better.   

And perhaps this is somewhat selfish on my part, but since William and Alexander aren’t old enough to go seek out friends on their own yet, I like that I get to do the seeking!

And so (again, maybe this is completely selfish on my part) I have gravitated toward kids whose parents I want to hang out with.

After all, at this stage in our kids’ lives, they aren’t doing anything on their own. If they’re at the playground, we’re there. If they’re at a restaurant, we’re there. If they’re at the park, we’re there.

The reason I bring this up is because I was telling a family friend this the other night, and he couldn’t believe how “greedy and petty” it sounded that I like to find friends for myself in my boys’ friends’ moms. (I should mention that he isn’t married and he doesn’t have children.)

I just don’t agree.

I distinctly remember a few incidents where we have met kids who are William’s and Alexander’s ages, and like a cow bell ringing in my ear, I could tell their parents were not the kind of people I wanted to hang around with… especially not alone for hours at a time.

I will never forget one Mom at the playground one day in March actually asking me, “Now, can Alexander recite the alphabet yet?”

And as I said, “Not yet,” she gasped. And not a little quiet gasp. It was as if I just told her that I don’t believe in clothes, which is why my kids are running around the playground naked (I’m totally kidding here, I don’t do that!).

But, it got me wondering… as the boys get older and they forge relationships on their own, what do I do when a Mom comes along who - well - I’m just not that into? 

And I mean here the type of Mom who you absolutely know in your heart of hearts, when you’re with her, you just can’t act like your total self.

The kind of Mom with whom you may feel uncomfortable bringing up certain topics. The type of Mom whom may not agree with your parenting style (and will tell you what you’re doing wrong, in her opinion). 

The type of Mom whom you know that if you met under other circumstances, you would avoid like the plague.

I’m sure we can all still rattle off in our heads the girls throughout our lives whom we stayed away from because, for some reason or another, we just didn’t mesh with.

Well, what happens if that type of woman is your child’s best friend’s mother?

And I don’t even want to go there (yet!) - but what if that woman becomes your son’s or daughter’s mother-in-law (good thing that’s years and years down the line)!?

But in all seriousness, should we all just try to be friends for the sake of the kids? 

I know I had friends as a child whose parents my Mom and Dad would never have been be friends with. But I was older and had met these kids in grade school. I wasn’t under 5.

I’m talking right now.  The kids are younger and aren’t looking for their true “best friend” yet.

Am I really “greedy and petty” for seeking out Mom friends with whom I enjoy spending time?

- Audrey

Providence Children's Museum

My husband's away on business this week.

Yes, that's right... here I am with 3 boys, and 6 months pregnant, alone for the week and looking for things to do!

Thank goodness for mothers and sisters. Literally.

My mother suggested that each day we do something different... and ALL things to keep the boys busy.

With a 3 year old, a 2 year old and an 11 month old... we're a little limited. We can't go roller skating. We can't even go to the Kids Gym activities at our local YMCA because you have to be 4.

So...

We racked our brains.

Monday was Easter Egg Day. Yes, the "Easter Bunny" came early because the boys have been so "good!"

Tuesday was BOWLING DAY! A fantastic thing to do on a weekday... the bumpers were up, nobody was there, we could be as noisy as we wanted... and the kids had a blast!

Wednesday... now this was the true gem! We went to the Providence Children's Museum! I don't know how many of you out there have been to this museum, but it was perfect!

The boys played in the water room. They played in the RI History rooms. They played on the trucks. And the bridges. They played with the books and the magnets and the legos and the wooden blocks. They played in the animal room. They went into the mirror room.

And... (LOVED THIS!) they played for an hour in the Little Woods Room. Yes, this heavenly safe zone for kids 4 and under was the perfect place for the boys to romp, roll and play. The treehouse. The cave. The slide. The "rocks." And the infant pillow/cushion haven for my little guy Ben.

It was the BEST place to let everyone "go"....

If you haven't checked out the Providence Children's Museum... it's a wonderful place to hang out. A lot smaller than the Boston Children's Museum... but the perfect size for little guys looking to let some energy out and just have a grand old time!

- Audrey

Dance, Grandma... Dance!

This morning, Audrey and her little family came to Grandma and Pop-up’s (that's what they call Grandpa) for breakfast.

And there are many “rules” to breakfast with three little guys, a pregnant mama and one hungry daddy. 

First, the bacon must be already sizzling when they arrive.  Audrey loves the sounds and aromas of bacon.  It reminds her of going to her Nana Flo’s house for breakfast when she was a little girl.  Nana Flo had the not-so-secret-anymore recipe of mixing bacon grease (I can’t believe I’m sharing this compete-and-total saturated fat secret) with her pancake batter to create the most delectably crunchy pancakes imaginable, and Pop-up has mastered the art. And oh yeah, Audrey has craved bacon this entire pregnancy with her little Henry!

Second, and very important… the coffee must be ready.  Not brewing.  Ready.   

Third, Pop-up better not have already mixed the pancake batter.  3-year old William loves to help Pop-up measure and combine the eggs, milk and batter into the smooth and creamy mix.  And he loves to chat with Pop-up about the entire process.

Next, it is a pretty good idea for me to have 11-month old Benjamin’s oatmeal cereal and bananas ready.  Benjamin has to be the easiest baby I have ever met, but the little guy loves his morning meal!   

Last, I should have 2-year old Alexander’s counter space pretty clear.  He must climb by himself onto his stool at the counter where he can color with his crayons ‘til the “pancanks” are served.

And everything went as expected… except for Ally.  He sauntered into our house holding his Little Tykes boom box.  Without taking off his coat or hat, he pressed a couple of buttons on his boom box and said to me, “Dance, Grandma.”

“Okay, Honey.”  This is what Grandmas do. 

So I moved my arms a little while simultaneously helping Audrey with coats, hats and mittens.  This is what Moms do.

“DANCE, Grandma!” was Ally’s response to my “dancing.”

A couple more buttons.  Another little tune.  “Okay.”  Now I move my arms a little more rhythmically and add leg movement.

Well, not rhythmically enough.

“DANCE, Grandma… DANCE,” was Ally’s response to my obviously pathetic attempt at breakfast disco.

So I danced.  Arms.  Legs.  Spins.  Dips.  Twist.  Freakin’ Limbo. 

I danced to Little Tykes with wild abandon. 

Let me just say here that I cocktail waitressed my way through college (one very long stint where my “uniform” was a red tie-up-the-center corset with white ruffled panties… yes), and I was often on-duty for morning/breakfast business meetings where pillars of society asked me if I “danced.”  Well, no.  But that was the early 70’s. 

And anyway, I guess all that waitressing and hey-she-looks-like-a-dancer prepared me in great measure for my darling little grandson asking his Grandma to get her groove on.   

Hey, at least he didn’t toss me a quarter.

That’s a lesson for another breakfast.

Thanks, Little Ally… you made my day!

- Sharon

The polite smile

We've all done it.

That polite smile.

You know what I mean... the type of smile when somebody you're talking to goes on and on and on (and on...) about something you already know about, but you still must stand there listening.

I don't know about you all, but I often find myself doing the polite smile.

Yesterday, for instance.

I had to go to the DMV to update my license.  Not something that's ever fun.  EVER.

I was prepared for the long wait, so I brought some magazines and my latest Barbara Taylor Bradford novel, The Heir.

As I was settling in, I heard a voice say to me... "When are you due?" I turned around to see a woman about my age, sitting there with a big belly that matched mine. I greeted her with a smile. 

Not the polite smile, a real genuine, oh-cool-someone-I-can-chat-with smile.  For those of you who know me... I'm a talker.  I could chat for hours.  Just give me a willing individual!

It turns out the two of us are due about 2 weeks apart.  Both with boys.  Both having C-sections. Ironic, huh?

So we began to chat about our pregnancies. And truth be told, I really didn't get a word in edgewise.  Looks like I was up against the talker-of-talkers.  She went on and on (and on and on) about everything pregnancy. About everything baby. I guess, in some ways... she viewed herself as an expert.

I did get a word in here and there. 

"Oh yes, my oldest son had a Papasan." 

"No, I formula fed all my kids."

"We found out the sex of all our boys."

"My 3rd son had horrible acid reflux."

And you know something is a little amiss with your conversation when, after chatting for a half hour or so (and saying the statements above) she asks me... "So is this your first?"

Ahhh... that polite smile. That polite smile that speaks a million things going through your mind... but you can't possibly say those kinds of things in a public place.

"No... this is my fourth."

To which she replied, "Will this be your first boy?"

Polite smile. (And an eyebrow raise.)

I pretended my phone was buzzing. Said a polite "good bye" and "good luck with the rest of your pregnancy" and got up and walked away.

The highjinks of Britney Spears and Angelina Jolie had suddenly become much more interesting!

- Audrey

Blizzard of '78

This week celebrates the Blizzard of '78 in New England!

I find myself in an interesting position while looking at photographs of my mother and father in the snow.

Interesting for me?

Yes... my mom was pregnant with me!

And since she was due with me on June 26th, 1978... and I am due with my son June 26th, 2008...

It's crazy to think that in these photos from 30 years ago, she was exactly as far along with me as I am with my son.

Exactly.

So as I was enjoying the Blizzard from the "inside" (nice and cozy!), I'm enjoying the photos from the "outside" just the same (yes, nice and cozy!).

It wouldn't be so bad to have another New England Blizzard...

- Audrey

Watching my language

It's been awhile since I've had to watch my language around children.

That's not to say I'm adverse to swearing... in fact, my husband and I always encouraged in our children the art of seeing humor in colorful language - in the appropriate context, of course.

But with my grandkids at the age now that they're veritable sponges in terms of everything their little ears hear, I must remember be more careful.

Case in point... today Jane and I were driving to lunch with Audrey's oldest, 3-year-old William.

As we were pulling into the restaurant parking lot, some a-hole cut me off.

Not really thinking the situation through, I blurted out, "You (insert choice word here)!"

If it had just been me and Jane, it would have been left at that.

But it wasn't just us. And from the backseat, William's little voice exclaimed: "Grandma! Did you just call me a (insert said choice word) or some other guy?"

Jane and I looked at each other wide-eyed, suddenly re-aware of the little sponge back there. It was damage control time.

"Of course not, honey!" I told him. "Grandma would never, ever call you that! I was talking about that man who cut me off, but I shouldn't have used that bad word. I'm very sorry."

William thought about it for a second.  Then he reassured me in his own cute little way: "It's OK, Grandma. Only monsters scare me, not silly words."

And there you go. I'll just have to be sure to refrain from saying those silly words around him from now on.

At least until he's old enough for me to teach him how to flick people off.

- Sharon

The gym that is motherhood

The other day one of my girlfriends asked me if I’m going to the gym to keep in shape during this pregnancy.

Umm... with three kids, 3 years old and under... in a word, no.

But though I’m not physically at the gym, I am working out, every day, all day.

My daily routine (pre-kids vs. post-kids)?

- 30 minutes of jogging on the treadmill is now chasing 2 little toddlers around the house all morning, all afternoon, all night.

- 20 minutes of power walking is now strolling around our neighborhood, wearing Benjamin and pulling the boys in our wagon.

- 15 minutes of stair master is now running up and down the stairs 50 times per day, putting the boys down for naps, gathering laundry, cleaning rooms, etc.

- Ab work is now getting in and out of bed throughout the night to check on the baby and the boys.

- A set of bicep curls is now lifting Benjamin throughout the day.

- A set of leg lifts is now playing “airplane” with two 30 lb. boys.

And then there’s all the cross-training throughout the day: shoulder rides, piggy-back rides, swinging the boys around, bending down to build Lego castles and robots, squatting down to help the boys build their train track towns, cleaning the floors of food and crayon marks all day… and everything else that goes along with “Mommy Exercise!”

Going to the gym!? 

I’m at the gym all day!

- Audrey

An interesting display

File this under Christmas displays you don't see every day... this guy in Cranston, RI has decorated his home/front lawn with giant displays of Good Girl vs. Bad Girl celebrities.

On one side of the display he has huge, life-sized blow-up collages of the "Bad Girls" (surrounded by red lights) - Paris, Britney, Lindsay and Anna Nicole:

On the other side is the collage of the "Good Girls" (surrounded by white lights) - these choices are a little more random - Martha Stewart, Hillary Clinton, Princess Diana, Marilyn Monroe... Mona Lisa and the Statue of Liberty!

In the middle of the "Good Girl" and "Bad Girl" displays are three life-sized cut-outs of Ellen Degeneres in various poses, right in front of a life-sized cut-out of Mary (yes, Jesus' mother) holding the word "Behold" in front of her.

 

When I drove by this house (which is on a fairly busy road) to take these pictures, cars were lined up all down the street to take in the display... the neighbors must be thrilled!

- Audrey