Bribery goes Awry

Hey, supermom, don’t read any further.  I bribed my kids.  Yes, I did it.  I’m not proud, but it was the only thing I could think of to get my kids through a busy airport.  I will start out by giving my children proper credit, we travel alot and they are always very good on the airplane.  This of course, doesn’t just happen, it requires a lot of planning on my part and I generally have to load myself down with snacks and games until I feel like a pack mule.  No matter how heavy my pack gets, I feel its worth it to have a fit free flight.  This last fight however was a bit different because I was flying with a teething toddler and a sick boy (note: sick kids equal drama).  To save myself from any trouble, I told the kids that if they were very good, I would let them pick out a new toy when we got home.  (Yeah, go ahead and tsk me, but I was out numbered and out gunned it was the best I could think of) 

When I made this deal, I was thinking of getting the kids a cool action figure castle that would bring me  them hours of entertainment.  I took them to Toys R Us and showed them the cool contraption I had my little heart set on.  “Isn’t it cool?” I asked.  “It’s okay” was the response.  Okay?  Okay?  A three level castle with tourete, trap door and working draw bridge is better than okay.   So, trying to be accomodating I asked what they would want.  My three year old said he wanted a skate board.  Not to be out done, my two year old agreed that a skate board would be the only choice.  I tried to explain to them that they were simply too small for skate boards.  Skate boards were for big kids.  “Could we just go see them?” asked my oldest.  I didn’t see any problem with simply looking at the contraption, after all, maybe they would be intimidated by it if they saw it.  Again, my plans went awry.  Seeing the board only made them want it more.  Luckily I was able to divert attention to the skateboards slightly less dangerous cousin, the scooter.  My garage is now darkened by two small toddler sized scooters and my days are spent chasing children around and putting helmets on thier heads.  I am now cursing the day I bribed my kids.  In retrospect, three hours of fuss on a plane might have been easier.

You can’t go home again

I have just returned from a trip to my home town.  While I had a good time, I would like to disagree with Bon Jovi, you really can’t go home again.  There can be many perils to returning to your roots with your own brood. 

It is hard to stay in someone else’s home with two toddlers.  I found myself constantly worried about one of my kids breaking, ruining or staining something that couldn’t be replaced.  Then, my youngest became ill.   Did I say ill?  Because I mean projectile vomitting with reckless abandon.  I went through no fewer than 28 towels, 3 blankets and 76 washcloths durring the hieght of the puking extravaganza.

Once we used all of my relative’s laundry, we decided to further make ourselves at home by throwing embarrasing tantrums in every room of the house.  Years ago, they would say that my oldest is “high strung,” though now,  I believe he would be bordering on Aspberger’s Syndrome.  In any case, my child can not handle change well and asking him to calm down is like asking a regular person to stop breathing.  These tantrums were unbelievably emberassing as my family lives so far away that they are little more than strangers to my children and do not understand thier quirks flaws.  No one knew quite how to take my child and I’m quite sure they thought I was the worst mother in the world. 

To top all of this off, I continued to make a bigger ass of myself, when I declared the house haunted.  All week, my youngest had been babbling away in an empty room.  “What a wierd kid” I thought.  Then, at bed time, my youngest sat straight up in the bed and started waving.  “What are you doing?”  I asked though I wish I hadn’t.  My two year old then looked as if I were stupid and said, “I’m waving at that man right there.”  That was as much as I could stand.  I mince no words when I say that I am a chicken.  From that time on, I refused to go into my bedroom unless someone else turned the lights on for me first.  Of course, the request was met with random spewings of the “Ghost Busters” theme song, but all in all my hosts were very gracious despite all of the problems my family presented. 

Begging to Differ

We just returned from a family vacation in Hershey, PA. As you’ve already guessed from the name, this is where you’ll find the chocolate factory. It is also the home of one of the most little-kid friendly amusement parks ever. No, it isn’t all rinky-dink rides. There are coasters large enough for the biggest thrill seekers, with stuff ranging  right down to those cute little carny rides. The best part, though are the scaled-down versions of big rides, like the mini Himalaya and Pirate Ship rides. This lets the wee ones go on rides ususally reserved only for the big kids. Nothing like getting to do what the big kids do to really brighten up the day of a 37-inch tall human. Hershey Park has rides toddlers can do alone (or on which a willing and flexable parent can go with an infant), others they must do with a parent, and then different stages moving up from there.

What I discovered on this particular vacation–other than how much I’d recommend Hershey to a mom with a three year old–is what its like not to “just” ride the rides my husband and I both like (mostly roller coasters). Rather, we took turns going on rides with our daughter, which allowed her to try so much more than she would have with only one of us. It also “forced” each of us to do things we otherwise probably wouldn’t have. We each thought we’d take turns watching our girl on the baby rides while the other ran off to do the other stuff. Instead, we both found we were having so much fun with her that I willingly went on a spinny ride (disembarking only vaguely nausiated) and my pale husband spent 1.5 hours in the new Boardwalk water park, exiting only slightly burnt. We all had a blast.

Traveling (Wo)Man

I am sitting on the terrace of my room at the Camelback Spa & Resort, 7:30 a.m., 71 degrees with a gentle breeze stirring up the scent of dessert flowers. Days rarely come lovelier. Only I ache for my little one and her father, my husband. Mine is a challenging, satisfying career with perks like working trips to beautiful places like this. Yet mornings like these perfectly capture the dichotomy of the working mom. I spoke with a woman yesterday who “wouldn’t miss this show for anything,” as it is essential for her to make the connections she need to be a successful media representative of one of the largest publishing companies around. Yet this same woman took a read-eye last night, and planned to rush off the plane, head to Dunkin’ Donuts for Munchkins to take to her six year old son’s class birthday party. Wouldn’t miss that for the world either.  

And perhaps even more telling of the difficulty of this balancing act: my conversation with a lovely, female, executive vice president at a company everyone would know. She has battled her way up the ladder with style, finesse, and yes, compromise. She doesn’t have any children but has an almost uncanny knack for recalling the names and ages of everyone else’s kids. I’ve never asked if not having kids was a conscious choice, but when I talked to her over a drink, she moved me in her belief that we must work to bolster the confidence of every teen girl we meet, to help them see their potential, that we must be “good aunties.” I can’t help think she’d have made a pretty great mom, too.

And perhaps even more telling of the difficulty of this balancing act: my conversation with a lovely, female, executive vice president at a company everyone would know. She has battled her way up the ladder with style, finesse, and yes, compromise. She doesn’t have any children but has an almost uncanny knack for recalling the names and ages of everyone else’s kids. I’ve never asked if not having kids was a conscious choice, but when I talked to her over a drink, she moved me in her belief that we must work to bolster the confidence of every teen girl we meet, to help them see their potential, that we must be “good aunties.” I can’t help think she’d have made a pretty great mom, too.