MotherReader

I didn't want to write about the woman who is reading Harry Potter to her five year old son while censoring the difficult parts with a technique she calls "pinkwashing." The whole thing seems too stupid by half, but it continues to gnaw at me with an idea of three things that just need to STOP!

Today I spent all afternoon packing up the winter clothes and bringing out the summer clothes for my two girls. Hours I spent on this simple sounding task. There are three reasons it took so long.

1. My girls have a lot of clothes.


2. I get very obsessive/compulsive about this chore, making sure everything fits, looks good, is folded nicely, put away in the right place, and is in good condition.


3. My girls have a frickin' lot of clothes.

It was unbelievable how many clothes there were. Now, we do get clothes for my ten-year-old from an older neighbor, plus we buy some, plus she is reluctant to give up clothes unless they really, really don’t fit, so that will fill three drawers and a closet. My eight-year-old old gets all the hand-me-downs from her older sister, plus all the cute things I can’t resist at Target or Kohl’s, plus she is reluctant to give up clothes unless they really, really don’t fit, so that fills up her two drawers and a closet. Oh, and did I mention how one grandma likes to find them quality stuff at thrift stores? So many clothes.

I can only say in my defense that I don’t buy expensive stuff, and we hand down all of the eight-year-old’s clothes to the six-year-old neighbor. Actually, there is usually so much by that time, that I give about half to the neighbor, a quarter to a younger niece, and a quarter right to Goodwill. After the six-year-old neighbor is done with them, that family gives them to a friend.

I will say, with all these clothes, I only have to do laundry half as often as normal people. I mean, there’s always something to wear. But, man, so many clothes.

I am having a similar problem with books. There are books everywhere. Books for the tween. Books for the kid. Books for me. Books to review. And I can’t get rid of any of them. I keep bringing more in, but nothing is going out.

Like the clothes, the girls are reluctant to give up books unless they really, really don’t fit them anymore. For clothes, I can draw the line at shirts that show their belly buttons or shorts that they can’t button. But can I convince them — should I convince them — that these picture books don’t fit them anymore and can be given to someone else? I don’t know. It’s hard for me too, because I remember reading these books to them, snuggled together on the couch.

Does anyone have a solution for prying old books/clothes/toys out of their children’s shelves/drawers/closets and hands?

On a completely unrelated note, have I mentioned how much I enjoy 7 Imp’s 7 Kicks? On Sunday, the blog Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast asks us bloggers to list seven kick-ass things that happened to us that week. You don’t have to list seven specifically, but I like making sure I come up with seven each week — even if I have to stretch it to include free pens from Staples or an extra hour of sleep. This week was an easy one, as I announced the 48 Hour Book Challenge, got a lot of participants (and taking more...), and some cool prizes (including one “stoked” from Roger Sutton). I also am gearing up for the 48 Hour Film Project, during which teams write, film, edit, and score an eight-minute (or less) film over one weekend. We’ve signed as our writer the wonderful author and blogger Robin Brande! I also had a great dinner with a friend, a toy that was sadly lost was found again, and my girls got great haircuts.

So many good things were happening, in fact, that I was beginning to get a bit worried. That’s not usually how things go for me. Imagine my relief when I found that I could have made an easy hundred bucks in a two-hour marketing research appointment, but it was the same time as my daughter’s drama club play. Turning down a hundred-dollar assignment to watch an elementary school play. Now that’s more like it. Equilibrium safely restored.

Last week I saw that A Wrung Sponge was doing this interview meme and, always being one to keep the meme alive, I said I’d play. She had answered questions written for her by a Repressed Librarian, and she wrote these for me. Watch out. They’re deep.

1. What is the thing that most surprises you about being a grown-up?

The amazing, unlimited capacity to love my kids. It’s an experience of love that can’t be compared to anything else. Not loving your parents, your partner, and most certainly not your dog. Those are all wonderful things, but loving your children is watching them grow and change and develop, under your guidance. It’s knowing you’d kill or die for them. It’s experiencing childhood again, but with perspective. It’s giving them the last double-chocolate chip cookie. Well, sometimes.

2. What do you miss most about being a kid?

My kid body. I don’t mean my hot teenage body — though I wouldn’t mind having that waistline again — but the freedom of a body that does everything you ask it without complaint. Really, the freedom of taking your body for granted. Now, even in my (let’s say) mid-thirties, I’m so conscious of my physical self. I get out of bed, and my back hurts. I drop a fork under the table, and I groan while reaching for it. And let’s not even talk about the Slip-and-Slide...

3. What do you look forward to in being a senior?

Time, time, time. I’m so frustrated with having so many things that I want to do and not nearly enough time to do them. I do the things I have to do now, and save the rest. Like I have to be my daughter’s Girl Scout leader now, even if I don’t really have the extra time. But she’s not going need a troop leader when she’s thirty-six and I finally have the time. So I put off a bunch of things I’d love to do — travel, paint, write a book  — to focus on what’s in front of me. It’s just a shame that what’s most clearly in front of me is yesterday’s dinner plates, two weeks’ worth of laundry, and a ten-year collection of Happy Meal toys.

4. What stories do you think your kids will tell their children that they have heard from you?

Since I’ve drilled it into their little brains so much, the story of their differences. I believe that the worst thing about a person is often the best thing about them turned around. My seven-year-old is stubborn and argumentative. However, no one will ever push her around. My ten-year-old worries about everything, especially social norms. However, she has lots of friends because she adapts so easily. I tell them what great luck it is that they are sisters, because all their lives they’ll be able to help each other understand another perspective. Or they’ll kill each other. Either one.

5. If you could put a children’s author and an illustrator together to work on an e-book for fifth graders, who would you choose and why? (They get to write the story and design the artwork as a team.)

This is a very specific question. Are you working on a project? Anyway, after a lot of thought, I’d put together Louis Sachar and Kadir Nelson. What’d I’d like to see is a great story featuring African-American children, but not about civil rights or slavery or prejudice. I think it’s important to have books that talk about the culture and struggles of Black Americans, but that it’s also important that we have books that don’t make color the complete focus. And poor Kadir Nelson needs to get locked into a project before a picture book is written by Chris Rock.

If you want to do the meme, let me know in the comments. I’ll come up with five questions that you can answer on your own blog.

I had so many suggestions for Thursday — Thematic Thursday, Therapeutic Thursday, Theme-Song Thursday — that I can choose as I go. Today I’m using Thoughtful Thursday as my anchor for today’s post about parents.

Yesterday I heard a mom arguing with her two-year-old for ten minutes about leaving the library. Hear that: ARGUING WITH HER TWO-YEAR-OLD. The mom was ready to leave and twoer was clearly not. I was an innocent bystander, collecting books for my next program. There was counting: “I’m going to count to three...” And pleading: “Mommy’s really ready to go home now...” And even some bitterness: “Well, Mommy doesn’t get to do what Mommy wants to do most of the time.” There may have even been some despair over lost opportunities: “Mommy could have been a background singer for Celine Dion, but instead here she is in purple velour sweatpants trying to haul your dream-killing butt out of the public library so Mommy can get home to the little orange pills that make it all seem fine.”

Come to think of it, that last one may have been me.

Anyway, I realized that my being the only other person in the children’s area might be contributing to the problem, because maybe the mom was feeling awkward with a staff member right there. So I left, and as I was telling my coworkers that the mom might be coming behind me with a screaming kid, the mom did pick up the kid, who did indeed scream. Considering the whole thing finished, I went into the back room.

But here’s the kicker: When I came out of the back room thirty minutes later, the mom was just then checking out! Was she honestly negotiating with her two year old for forty minutes? Did someone forget to tell her that SHE’S THE MOTHER?

When did parents forget to be parents?

I may be annoyed by the tantruming kid in the store or library, but I’m still sympathetic deep down in my heart. I know that any kid, any mom can have a bad day or even a bad period. The tantrum itself isn’t indicative of the parenting, though how it is handled can be. My oldest was a big tantrum kid coming up on three years old. But when I had to, I carried her screaming body out. I still remember the day I had to carry her out of the mall, wrapped around my body under both arms as she tried to kick and scream, while I pushed her sister in the baby stroller. Good times. But I tell you that so you know that I’m no stranger to strong reactions to the phrase, “We need to go home now.” Tantrums aren’t fun to watch as the mother or a random person in Kohl’s trying to find a pair of jeans that don’t shout how you’ve given up looking hot. But tantrums by themselves are not nearly as bad as seeing a mom hand over control to someone who hasn’t even maintained control of his bowels yet.

Is it fair to give your kid a little heads-up that you’re leaving soon? Sure. Is it helpful to offer constructive choices surrounding your departure? Can be. Is it useful to argue the finer points of your departure with a two-year-old? NONONONONO!!!

These parents are often in my storytimes as well, but fortunately I can usually hold their kids’ attention. But when I can’t, I watch them asking the kids nicely to not bang on the carts or not climb on the stacks of chairs in the middle of my reading. I want so badly to put down the book and show them how to handle their kids. Because it’s possible that instead of asking from ten feet away for the kid to stop, you need to get up and physically remove the kid from said cart or chairs. Sometimes I think that I would do far more good showing parents how to parent their child then I can do showing them how to read to their child, but then that wouldn’t be fair to the majority of parents and kids who are listening nicely.

Actually, one of the times I did suggest to a mom that she take her child out of the storytime and return when he was ready, she complained — not to my supervisor, or even the library branch manager, but to the director of the entire library system. While I didn’t get in trouble per se, everyone in the entire chain of command knew about this complaint. So even though the people I work with directly knew the whole thing was crazy — I’m really a nice person — I’m sure it left doubts with the people who didn’t know me. It just adds a whole other level to the parenting crises. Not only will these people not control their own children, if you try to suggest they do so, you can get a black mark by your name in the Big Job Book.

It’s scary for the future to see how much power parents are putting in their kids’ hands. Want to play a little game? Go to a playground or busy children’s section of the library or bookstore and count the number of times you hear parents say, “Okay” — as in, “We’re going to go home soon, okay?” It has become a verbal tic for parents who think it softens their statement (“We’re going to go home soon”), but is really asking permission of their child (“Okay? No, not okay,” the kid thinks). Parents are afraid to be seen as harsh or mean, so instead they get played like the Wiggles keyboard in front of KB Toys.

A great book for moms struggling with their inner meanie is The Three-Martini Playdate. The book reminds us, in a very tongue-in-cheek way, how to be the parent in a number of situations from birthday parties to bedtime, diaper bags to dinner out. Hopefully moms will laugh reading the insert for Our Little Tot’s First Martini Recipe, but the serious message contained within the book is the concept — how revolutionary — of being the person in charge.

One day at my library, a third-grade girl was dropped off to meet her tutor, and the tutor wasn’t there. The girl was very upset and scared. We tried to call the mother, but couldn’t reach her. The mom showed up pretty soon and the girl started crying again and said, “I was alone here and I thought that somebody would steal me and kill me!”

And I thought, Maybe we’ve scared our kids too much.

I work in a small, quiet, suburban, public library. It’s pretty safe as public places go. Should the mom have walked the girl in? Sure. Should the girl have told the staff that she was alone and scared? Of course. Was it likely that in front of our desk someone would pull her out the door and kill her. Not likely.

We’ve scared our kids so much with our stranger danger talks, but yet we haven’t always given them the right tools to work with in assessing and handling a situation. We tell them not to talk to strangers, but we also tell them to be respectful to adults. We want to avoid something bad happening, but we don’t let them know that adults are generally good.

As a parent, this is what I tell my seven- and ten-year-old girls.

Every time we drive somewhere we use our seatbelts. Even though we don’t expect to have an accident. Even though I drive carefully and follow the rules so that we won’t have an accident. But if something went wrong, and we did have an accident, our seatbelts would help keep us safe. So, when I talk to you about what to do if someone beckons you over to a car (run away) or tries to grab you (kick, bite, scream), it is not that I expect these things to happen to you. We talk about it so you’ll know what to do. Just like I don’t drive in a way that is unsafe and could cause an accident, I don’t allow you to be in situations where I believe you would be unsafe. Most people are good and don’t mean any harm to kids, but being prepared is just like wearing seat belts, or learning about dialing 911, or fire alarms in school.

I want my kids to feel confident in handling a scary situation, but I don’t want to scare them. It is a fine line, and a personal decision. The schools are stepping in to tell our children to be scared of strangers, but we have to take part in the message. I don’t want my kids to be unsafe, but I don’t want them terrified when they were really safe the whole time.

I don’t have all the answers. Like I said at the beginning, I’ve just tried to think what preventing child abuse meant to me. I’ve talked about helping moms and dads cope with a tantrum or crying child. I’ve talked about taking care of yourself and knowing when you might need a break. I’ve talked about setting limits for children and what to do to help lost children. Today, it was how to prepare your child to handle something frightening. Overall, just know that we can all do our part to protect and empower these children we see, we teach, we raise, and we love.

Among my small (so very small) group of blog fans are my friends, other parents, and children’s literature buffs. And I feel I am letting them all down. My old friends drift off when I talk about my favorite picture books, my kids’ lit peeps glaze over during my mommy stories, and my parent pals lose interest when I rave about a new adult book. But I want to share kids’ lit, adult books, and funny stories. It is my mission, such as it were.

However, you may, if you so desire, read only the entries that interest you. Permission granted.

Today, for my next entry in the child abuse prevention series, I address the issue of lost children. If you are not a parent, you will be tempted to take my newly given permission and take off for funnier pastures. But if you stick around, maybe something will sink in and save your child’s life in days to come. But, y’know, if you want to blog-hop, go ahead.

Children lost in a public place are vulnerable, and parents can take some prevention steps before it happens — and it will happen — and other people can reinforce the concepts.

Ever since my children were old enough to comprehend at some level, I started going over the rules for getting separated from me or their dad. We would go over the rules before we entered a store or a large public place. They can now, at seven and ten years old, recite these rules in their sleep. Rule One: Stay put and mom/dad will find you. DON’T wander around. Rule Two: Look around you for an employee or a mom or a grandmom who could help. Rule Three: DON’T leave the store. Mom/Dad would never leave without you. Rule Four: Know your mom/dad’s name and your phone number for emergencies.

When I help a lost child at the library, or at the store for that matter, I always go over these rules with the child I found. I might say, “Hi. I work here at the library (or I am a mommy). Did you lose your mom or dad? Yes? Do you know your mom/dad’s name so we can call for them? Good. Let’s wait here for your mom, because she certainly didn’t leave without you.” And when the mom/dad shows up, usually embarrassed or apologetic, I go over with the mom/dad in front of the child what the child did right. “Well, she did a great job. She knew not to leave the library, and she found someone who works here to help her.” In that way, I’ve helped the child — and maybe the parent — to learn from the experience so they’ll know better next time.

If I have helped any of you friends, parents, librarians, I am glad. Keep coming back. I do appreciate your support, even if I am not always writing about your area of interest.

It’s Sunday in April. The kids are hopped up on jelly beans and Skittles. My fingers are blue from egg dye. Through the house wafts the smell of ham. My head is pounding with the intensity of a jackhammer in New York City.

Ah, it’s Easter.

But not just Easter for us mind you. Oh, no. It is the Easter following a spring break — a long, long spring break — where our plans were canceled, and I thus had the job... no, the honor of staying home with my kids for 240 hours in a row. Within the first 24 hours, I realized that we were going to have to move up my youngest’s birthday party to, well, yesterday.

Here’s the past 48 hours.

Friday evening: Make crafts for Saturday’s party, make birthday dinner, eat birthday dinner, sneak out of birthday dinner to wrap birthday presents, give birthday presents at family birthday party, put kids to bed, make more crafts for birthday party, go to bed.

Saturday: Go to work, catch up on week’s worth of emails and new books, sit through children’s puppet show, drive home, tidy house, welcome eight first graders, craft, craft, break, craft, craft, PIZZA, cake, presents, bye-bye, crash, “Aren’t you kids asleep yet?” prepare baskets and eggs, hide eggs outside, go to bed.

Sunday: “Can we wake up now?” find baskets, find eggs, play marbles, dye eggs, DO TAXES, write this entry.

So, today I was going to write another in my series of child abuse prevention ideas for everyone, but the most I can manage is sharing something that has been useful to me as a parent, but also in supervising medium to large groups of small to smallest children.

Hesitation to children is like blood in the water to sharks. Children can sense your weakness and if you aren’t firm — not mean — they will keep pushing you to see if there is any wiggle room. If a child asks, “Can I have another piece of cake?” your answer can be, “No, one is enough.” You don’t have to apologize or overly explain how too many sweets will make them hyper or too fat. If the child says, “I want to go swing now.” You can say, “We’re not doing that now. But we will after the presents are opened.” Whether it is your kid, your kid’s friend, your niece, nephew, or neighbor, it’s all right to be the grown-up. But don’t miss the opportunity to dye the Easter eggs with them later.

For Child Abuse Prevention Month, I am devoting Sundays to how we can advance the cause of protecting our nation’s children. Last week I talked about how we could help our fellow moms/dads/humans, with their crying/tantruming kid and what to do when we see a mom (or dad, if you’re brave) yell at her (or his) kid. Today I will share how to become the parent who doesn’t yell at her kid in especially tense and public times. It all comes down to two little words. (“Heavy drinking.” Nah, just kidding.)

Preventative Advil
Whenever I need to take my children where there is bound to be lots of screaming kids, I take an Advil before I even go. Not only am I less likely to get a headache, I am less likely to spend the whole event thinking that I am going to get a headache. Thus the Girl Scouts indoor pool Beach Bash — with 200 screaming girls in an echo chamber — becomes a piece of cake. Amusement park? Preventative Advil. Birthday party? Preventative Advil. Chuck E. Cheese? Two Preventative Advil.

I have another two-word phrase in my bag of tricks for after the event is over.

The Handoff
When I get home from one of these events, I am officially done. (In fact, “I’m done” is another two-word phrase in my artillery, as I use it to my family to indicate, without question, that my role is now over.) In The Handoff, I turn my children over to my husband to feed, get ready for bed, run around the block, whatever it takes. I find that after being with lots of children for an extended period of time, I just need to be in a room where my children are not.

The Handoff even occurs if my husband is not home. Then they just go to my favorite babysitter, Nickelodeon. They watch TV for an hour, I get my head together, and we’re all happier for it. Depending on how traumatic the event was for me, I might read a book (children’s birthday party), hop on the computer (Girl Scout bowling), or flip channels on the TV with a Corona in one hand (Chuck E. Cheese).

Take care of yourself, and you will be better able to take care of your children. You may even use a phrase to let your children, or your spouse for that matter, know that you need your space. You have given all that you can in service to the team, and now it is time for a break. You are welcome to use mine.

I’m done.

Today’s post will be more serious. I’ll return you to your regularly scheduled humor tomorrow.

April is Child Abuse Prevention Month, and having worked in public health in the interest of mothers and children, I had struggled with what this month meant to me. Other than not hitting my kids, what could I do in the interest of protecting children? With five years of child public health and five years of children’s librarianship and ten years of motherhood, I came to a couple of things that work for me that I would like to share. So that it doesn’t get to be too much at once, I’ll share one point each Sunday this month. Consider it my sermon and pass it on to anyone you’d like.

For Everyone: Distract a Child, Help a Mom (or Dad)

Having had one preschool tantrum-thrower and one preschool crybaby, I sympathize with moms who get stuck at the store or library with a child having an episode. I think I am a pretty good mom, but I couldn’t stop these episodes from happening to me (though the tantrum-thrower didn’t go back to the mall for a year after I had to carry her out under my arms, wrapped around my body while pushing her baby sister in the stroller). But what I learned is that one person’s reaction could be the difference between me laughing it off in the car or leaving the store crying (also the tantrum-thrower and a very grumpy cashier).

Now when I see a child freaking out, I have a couple of things in my bag of tricks. If the child has an older sibling, I will tell the older child what a good job he is doing being calm while his little brother is crying. At the library I will give him a sticker or bookmark for doing such a good job. Often the crying little brother will calm down to see what is going on, and then I offer him a sticker or bookmark too. If not, I give the sticker or bookmark to the older brother to hold for his little brother. Usually the mom offers some input by now, and I just sympathize. I say, “I have two myself,” or, “Some days are just hard,” or even, “Good luck.” I’ve done three things here. I’ve rewarded the older child for behaving, I’ve distracted the younger child from his fit, and I’ve let the mother know that someone isn’t looking down on her. She can return to our library without worrying.

My second technique, if it is just the child and the mother, is to offer the child a sticker or bookmark, “’cause some days we need a sticker.” Then I sympathize with the mom. If I see a mom yelling at a child, I don’t scold the mom, but I ask if there is anything I can do to help. If she says no, which she usually does, I sympathize again with the mom, that some days are hard. The interaction breaks the struggle between the parent and child, and distracts the child. But I have done something else by engaging the mom. She knows someone is paying attention, so if she has begun to “lose it,” she will probably get herself under control. And if she actually is an abusive mom, then I have given the child the message that adults do care.

My third technique is very low-key. Without really interacting, distract the child. Smile. Maybe do something a little silly, like a sleight-of-hand magic trick. I’ve blown up a balloon, put a book on my head, sung a song, played peek-a-boo, and made a stuffed animal dance. I am shameless. But it is often just enough to work.

And sometimes it doesn’t work, but I tried. Sometimes I’m not in the mood, and I have to let that one go. But I’ve realized that everyone has bad days. Moms, kids... you. It’s easy to judge the bad mom, the bad kid, but it really isn’t that much harder to be part of the solution.