We've Moved!

We're all still New Englanders but our blog has moved to its permanent home, here:


New England Mamas


Please come visit us and update your feed readers. It's pretty over there. Come join us!

Trick-or-Treating Without Sidewalks

I had a lot of reasons for enjoying Halloween as a kid. Of course I loved the candy overload and dressing up, but one of my favorite things was getting to walk outside at night. After all, we normally didn't get to go around after dark.

When we moved to MA, I was initially surprised by the lack of sidewalks, but I didn't think much about it until it was time to take my older son (OS) trick-or-treating. I take that back. I actually heard a great deal about it from my husband, who spoke passionately about the extra lawn that he got to mow in the absence of a sidewalk. Anyhow, I found it scary, but not in a spooky Halloween way to walk down dark streets with a little kid. Halloween or not, it's still hard to see people when it's dark.

The next year, one of my friends suggested going to the mall for trick-or-treating. Initially I shuddered at the thought. Wasn't part of the fun going outside? This didn't sound like fun to me. And it wasn't...for me. It was, however, a lot of fun for my son. He loved it. He got to run around getting candy and was able to see all the other kids in their costumes. He also enjoyed the frenzied excitement in the climate-controlled air. Since Halloween is about my kids and not about me, which of course does not mean that I won't eat a lot piece or two of candy, I was really grateful that the mall had this program. Since my boys have never had the experience of spending hours walking outside at night trick-or-treating, they don't know what they're missing!

Happy Halloween!

Nothing Is Better than Something

So. Hi there. How's it goin'? Me? Oh, I'm fine. We all are. Nothing going on around these parts. And, actually, that's pretty cool.

Sweetie had a fever this weekend, which I assumed would result in major health-related drama. But, no. She's good. She's got a sniffle and a cough, but she's a trooper and is handling it well, as is her usual Sweetie way.

Sweetie's also been pretty well behaved recently. Yesterday was a bit trying - not a very good Listening Day for her. But overall, s'all right. She's been on a plateau of politeness and good attitude for, oh, at least a month or so now. No major complaints here. So much nicer than constant fights, raised voices, and high-stress-level-parenting.

Then, personally, well - things there are good too. Sure, after several unsuccessful attempts to get my in-home wine tastings business going, I've finally decided to call that quits at the end of next month. I thought it would be a fun and interesting way to earn some extra income. Instead, it was a fun and interesting way to lose money. But, you know - oh well. It was exciting while it lasted and I did learn a lot. It's just, when it comes right down to it, I'd much rather spend that time with my family than keep on with the parties. No more parties = less stress and more financial security. I'm glad I figured out that equation as quickly as I did.

Yeah, so - there you go. Life is good. For Hubby and I, who are oh-so-familiar with the Go! Go! Go!, high-stakes/high drama world of parenting and life in general, this current state of being is certainly a refreshing change of course.

Now, please excuse me as I go bask in the glow of nothingness while I have it. After all, I'm afraid the holiday season (ugh!) is about to get in our way.

Red Sox Nation - You're welcome

It took 86 years for the Red Sox to win a World Series. Until 2004, I come along, get pregnant and *Wham*...

World Series Champions.

Three years later, 2007. All of Red Sox Nation barely dared to dream that another title could be ours again so soon. I get pregnant again and *Wham*...

Another World Series Championship.

And did I mention the winners of Super Bowl XXXVIII and XXXIX, in 2004 and 2005, were the New England Patriots? And that the very same Patriots are currently undefeated?

Coincidence???

Probably. But I'm considering putting my uterus up for sale on Ebay once I deliver T.B. Wams, just in case. I'm not going through another pregnancy again and it really would be a shame for our beloved sports teams to go decades without another title.

Celtics and Bruins fans should start considering paying me for the privilege to rub my belly. Rubs start at 25 bucks a pop. Cash only.

(Cross posted at Chicky Chicky Baby)

Good thing we didn't have to wait 86 years again...

Have you heard that the Red Sox won the World Series?

Oh yeah, baby.

Thanks to the Sox (well, really Fox) I haven't gotten much sleep in the past couple of weeks. I mean, really... can't the West coast just suck it up and watch a game at 4 PM? The 8:30 PM game time for us is ridiculous.

But besides that, all I can say is WOW. What a post-season!

Seriously, that's all I can say right now because I am so exhausted from staying up too late to watch the Red Sox win the WORLD SERIES!

WHOOOT, WHOOOT!

- Jane

Got your brooms ready, Red Sox fans?

I'm posting very late tonight because I wanted to talk about the World Series. Yes, the World Series. Like we have anything else on our collective minds these days.

This has been, as of tonight, an amazing series for us Red Sox fans. More than we ever imagined, especially with the Rockies recent win loss record of 22-1, we're just creaming those Rockie Mountain boys. I thought that they might win a game or two, but it looks as if they might not win anything at all. We're out pitching them, our defense is better, and overall we're just a better, stronger team.

I've never been a fan of the national league. I like the designated hitter, I love that pitchers don't have to hit. I don't quite get why the two leagues can't seem to come to a compromise on those two playing points, but evidentally they can't. And, if they can't even decide how to play the game uniformly throughout both leagues, they certainly can't make every playing field uniform as well. Baseball is the only game where every playing field is different, not only in size but in shape as well.

Watching the Sox play in Coors Field (I HATE THAT NAME!) tonight was amazing. DiceK? Could he have been better? I don't think so. His pitching was fabulous. He actually got a base hit. Did you see him running the bases in his jacket? Then he walked to 1st carrying his bat with him. How cute is he? It's like watching a big giant little league player that's incredibly talented.

One thing we noticed watching the game tonight was the number of shattered bats. Do you think that has something to do with the dry air in Colorado? I've never seen so many split bats in one game.

How about our Rookies? Jacoby Ellesbury? What a fabulous player. Dustin Pedroia? How cute is he, and what a huge boon to our team. He was a real find. DiceK? Who would have thunk, after watching him last spring, that he would end up as such a powerful pitcher in October?

Tomorrow, Jon Lester is pitching. He's come back from cancer last year. What an amazing story he is for our Red Sox. I'm counting on him to sweep the series. I just cannot wait for the parade. I went in 2004 and end up sobbing I was so excited and relieved. My whole life I've been a Sox fan. I'm a third generation fan, my kids are 4th generation fans. My father lived his entire life never having seen his team win the series. It took 52 years for me to see that win in 2004. My kids, they have always seen the Red Sox on top. They've never experienced years and years of being in the basement. They're going to see another World Series before they're even 16.

It doesn't seem quite fair.

I do have a hint for all you watching tomorrow. Turn the sound way down so you don't have to hear Joe Buck and Tim McMoron chattering on about nothing nonstop. The game is so much more enjoyable without them.

See you tomorrow night!

You know you're in a rough spot when a middle aged librarian hands you money to shut your kids up.

I was *that* mom last week when my children, Sybil and L.Blair, threw award winning tantrums at, of all places, the town library.

In my defense, we are newbies in this suburb and I truly did not know that video check-out requires cold cash. And so as we were checking out and the librarian said "that will be two dollars", I'm sure the blank look on my face didn't help what was about to come next.

After being lectured on the library's policies (why do librarians like to do this?), I reached around for my purse only to find that I left it in the car. Afterall, one usually does not need money at the library, no?

On most days this would be no big deal. My kids would understand. They would reluctantly, but peacefully, put the Backyardigans and Pokeman dvds back onto the counter and we would come back and get them during our next visit. But today I made the mistake even veteran moms fall prey to: I took the kids out in the (gasp!) afternoon at (double gasp!) nap time. I know, crazy.

When I explained that I forgot my wallet and that we would come back and get the movies later on, well, all hell broke loose.

There was crying, whining, screaming, hitting, fists pounding, heads spinning, blood spewing (ok, not really, but there could have been).

I tried to pretend they weren't my kids. I tried to walk away and ask whoever was in charge to please remove these demon children immediately. But it was too late of course. Everyone had already seen me. My only choice was to rip the movies from their tight little clutches and get out of there as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, that wasn't happening either. I would have had to saw off their hands in order to get the dvd's back onto the counter. They were not leaving that library without the movies.

Oh, those ever helpful librarians did try to "override" the system so that we could pay the two freakin' dollars the next time we came back. But due to new accounting practices enforced by the town that was not possible.

Rules will be rules. Especially in small town government.

Finally. FINALLY, a librarian reached into her own purse, handed me the two bucks and pretty much told me to leave and take my hysterical kids with me.

I thanked her profusely and left embarassed and humiliated that a 50-something librarian adorned in a polyester jumpsuit had to bail me out.

So much for making a good impression in our new little town.

One K-razy Ride!

The World Series. Three incredible words.

But combine these words with "The Red Sox" and you've got yourselves one wild and K-razy ride! And oh yeah... curses, broken curses, rivalries and a bit o' history.

So as a child of a Boston-born-and-bred girl (my Mom, Mary Rita Burke Klaczynski, who married a dashingly handsome sailor from Detroit-by-way-of-Chicago. You still with me?), and never became a Detroit fan as my two brothers and I did. Until 1967, when the three kids of Mary Rita, and even my Dad, God rest his Tiger soul, switched over to Boston.

OK. So I marry this die-hahd Boston Saux fan from Rhode Island and we embahk on a journey of summah joys (I am not going to even say "heartache" because the Sox are my entertainment, conversation, and love... 'cuz ya gotta love 'em even when they're down). Yeah, cry into your bloody red sock. We're season ticket holdahs.

Now, I missed the 2004 Series games in Boston because my darling daughter Jane was in the midst of wedding prep... and her bridal shower and bachelorette pahty were on the same days as my beloved Sox's games. Yes, my daughter DOES come first.

So fast-forward to Wednesday evening, October 24, 2007. My first World Series game, never mind at my own Fenway Pahk. And as we entah Yawkee Way, who is there to greet the fans but Tom Warner. John Henry. Larry Lucchino.

And they were graciously shaking hands, patting backs, slapping 5 to all who entered the hallowed turnstyles. "Thanks for coming!" they were saying.

Thanks for coming? I've been dreaming of this for decades!

OK, I know these guys are multi-millionaires from the likes of people like me, but they still were gracious. And, I mean, it IS their house.

My husband was in Sox Heaven.

Then once inside (after stopping at the souvenir shops and furthering the millionaire status of our Sox-heads), my husband spotted Johnny Pesky.

How did I know this?

"Hey, Honey. HONEY! THERE'S JOHNNY PESKY. HEY, JOHNNY! CAN I GET A PHOTO?"

What a player. What a legend. What a gentleman Johnny is.

So here, New England Mamas, are a few momentoes of one of the most memorable evenings of my life. My husband's life. And we're up two games!

GO SOX! Even you transplanted New England Mamas can give a shout out at this electric time for New Englandahs everywhere!

(as an aside, I do have a photo of my husband with Tom Warner too. But that photo is on my digital camera. The camera that flew from my hands and crashed to the cement and is no longer working do to my husband's exuberance. The photos shown are from his cell phone camera!)

John and Barry (they're on a first-name basis now... at least in Barry's head!):


Larry Lucchino and his best bud Barry:


Mr. Johnny Pesky (respect for my husband's childhood hero) and Barry:

How To Really Scare Me At Halloween

Given that a nine-year-old can work a stripper pole like a pro, a school for 11-13 year old kids feels the need to provide birth control to its students and pre-pubescent girls are posting suggestive photos of themselves on the social networking sites, I shouldn't really be surprised by the sexualization of Halloween costumes for young girls.

But, I am surprised.

For years, I have lived in the land of "toddler sizes" at Halloween and have not faced anything more daunting than "Snow White" vs. "Pooh Bear". But, my six-year-old daughter is now big enough for a "girl" size, which apparently means she is maturing much faster than I ever conceived.

First, I'm not talking about mini skirts or even "belly dancer" costumes that really show a belly button. Nor am I talking about those character costumes from Wonder Woman to High School Musical or American Idol. I'm talking about costumes that seems too provocative for young girls; this bothers me especially when there is no need for them to be provocative (and, I'm not even going near the costumes marketed to teens. Check out this excellent article by Creative-Type Dad for more on that subject).

(All the costumes below are or were available at large national chains. I apologize for the dreadful reproduction of one of them).

Let's start with the devil costume. Let's see: red dress, horns, tail and spear, right? Well, somehow that isn't enough:

Or, how about a witch? You know, black dress, pointy hat, broom, and wart on nose?

Fairy? A wand, gossamer wings and pixie dust?

Oh dear lord, how about a bunny? Fluffy tail, big floppy ears, socks on hands for paws. . .

Ok, that is cute, but how many bunnies wear a bow tie? Oh wait, I know which bunnies wear a bow tie:

A Correlation Between Preschoolers and Cooking

While I haven't collected any specific data yet on it to run through SPSS or another similar statistics software package, there seems to be an inverse correlation between the amount of time I spend cooking food and the amount of that food that my older son who is 4 will eat. Tonight I made pasta with a tasty low-fat homemade creamy walnut sauce. This took under 10 minutes. My son ate a couple of bites. Yet, a couple of nights ago when it took a half hour to make a Shepard's pie with ground turkey and sweet potatoes, he refused to try it. I am pretty sure that if I served him food from the gas station he would snarf it down. There also seems to be a correlation between the amount of time I spend cooking a meal and the amount of food that he eats the next morning at breakfast. I don't think it requires any great scientific study to know that if you don't eat dinner you'll be extra hungry at breakfast.

Fall Comes to New England

Here is a wonderful slideshow of Autumn in New England. My favorite time of year. I THINK it'll finally start feeling like Autumn soon!

Brainless

Isn't it amazing how a few small misunderstandings, a handful of bad behavior, and a smattering of passive-aggressive can turn work from a reasonably survivable experience into a head-banging jaw-clenching ear-bleeding nightmare in a matter of days?

Two weeks ago, I liked my job. I really enjoy the actual work - I'm a mostly-psychologist and do crisis assessments in the local emergency rooms - and I can put up with the paperwork and politics that come alongside it all. Two days ago, I hated it, dreaded the mere thought of going in, and alternated between obsessing and whining only because I didn't want to be a total one-trick pony.

And now, tonight, I'm wrung out and brainlessly emotionally tired, but ready to go back and deal with the work itself again, now that the latest round of mind-numbingly immature drama has faded. I won't assault you with details. Just, it was knotty and yucky, and I had to take the horrifying and unenviable step of being the adult and addressing the situation before it escalated. And guess what? Being a grown-up works sometimes, and a resolution to the idiocy is in sight. Or, at the very least, it will be taken underground and hidden from me. This would be equally acceptable; I don't demand actual maturity among my coworkers, just the surface appearance.

Don't ever let anyone tell you that those who work in the mental health field are one tiny bit more mentally healthy than your average serial killer.

Taking a break from writing "Mrs. Mike Lowell" on my notebook long enough to say...

Holy crap, we're going to the World Series. Time to grab your favorite tot, pet, spouse, stuffed animal (really, anyone within grabbing distance), crank up the sound and savor the flavor, enjoy the joyous noise, sing and dance wherever you happen to be.

Red Sox Nation, Patriots Nation, these are the good old days.

In My Shoes

Last night I was making dinner when I looked over my shoulder and thought to myself, “Who is that little girl stomping through the kitchen in my shoes?”

I wasn’t so much questioning her identity as I was marveling at her very existence. In that moment, as I diced an onion for the horseradish pasta salad I was craving, the October air was abnormally warm in its gentle push through the windows, and the waning daylight was natural and calm. It wasn’t unlike other occasions over the past thirty years when I felt relaxed and unattached to time. The difference between last night and the rest of my life was the girl with tiny feet passing through my periphery in very, very big shoes.

A year ago*, she was just learning to walk . A year before that, she mostly laid there, sleeping, slurping, burping and pooping. Twelve months prior, I had just discovered that The Partner and I would be having a baby. My notions about what it meant to be a parent were so hazy as to be completely opaque. I had no idea that there would be…

A little girl, at home in my kitchen, at home in my shoes. A girl who got none of my looks except my big forehead and my thin hair. A girl with her own ideas, fears, taste and motivation. Three years ago, I couldn’t have known how the setting sun in a dim room would spotlight this relative newcomer on her halting trip across the tile, and how she’d stop in the middle and look at me from a perch made much higher by my stacked heels.

“Hug, mom,” she called out, her arms extended, beseeching both me and balance.

I laid down my utensils on the cutting board and made my way over to her. I kneeled down, wrapping my arms around her mid-section. She leaned into the hug. Her hands rested on my shoulder blades.

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you, mom.”



*It was exactly one year ago. To the day. I just realized that now as I copied the link to my blog post about her first steps and saw the date. Isn’t it funny how the subconscious can push through the crowded calendar of daily living and help keep priorities in check?

Darned Motivation. Danged Sun!

What I wouldn’t give for today to be cold and rainy.

Depressed? No.

Blue? No.

At a loss of what to do? No.

My problem? I am feeling motivated!

What’s worse, it’s 75 degrees and sunny. On an October (my favorite month) day in Vermont (my favorite state). Well, shoot!

And I? And my daughter? My biggest fear as a stay-at-home-mom has been realized.

We had a great weekend. Traveling to the Keene Pumpkin Festival (alas, despite the contribution of our four pumpkins, we didn’t break a record);barbecuing homemade bratwurst in the woods at a friend's quintessential Vermont cabin (I even ate BEAR(!!!) for the first (and likely, last, time); visiting with Georgia’s Grammie in New Hampshire.


It was a glorious weekend.

And today’s Monday. I am like Garfield in regards to Mondays--I don't like 'em. The hubby is back to work and Georgia and I are left to fend on our own.

What's worst is today I was feeling motivated!

We were going to go to the library to check out board books, go to the store to buy formula (thank goodness I didn’t let it slide TOO long and we still have some in the cubboard). I was even thinking of bringing Georgia to her dad’s campus for lunch, and a walk around the lake.

But alas. My biggest fear as a stay-at-home-mom has been realized.

The car seat base? The strollers (both of them)? In my husband’s car. A half-hour away up the highway. Grrrrrrrrrr.....

It’s time to get creative. Re-reading board books we already have. Strapping on the chest carrier. Maybe a walk to the cider mill, and a trip to the swing.


But darn it, I was feeling motivated!

And we have rain in the forecast for the next two days!

Maybe this will merit a trip to the aquarium tomorrow.

Raindrop or Snowflake?

This morning, my 3-year-old grandson asked, "Grandma, if you could be a raindrop or a snowflake, which one would you choose?"

I thought for a moment (or ten), and then made a case for each.

As a raindrop, of course, I would feed the grass and the beautiful flowers in his yard. I would fill the birdbath that the visiting cardinal seems to love so much. I would make super-neat puddles to jump in (with my sneakers off, mind you), especially when Mommy is not looking! I would make the rocks in his yard glisten when the sun comes out again. I would make great noises as I bump against the windows. I would clean the toys and balls that he left in the yard. And I would try to land on his tongue if he stuck it out at me.

As a snowflake, I would fall slowly and gracefully so he could see my unique and perfect shape. I would pile up with my friends in a great big heap... perfect for sledding. I would land in the tree in his front yard and let Christmas lights dance around me. I would let him pack me into a tight ball and toss me at his Daddy during a snowball fight. I would jump into a plastic block and let him and his brothers make an igloo with me and my friends. I would try not to get his mittens too wet, but I think I would anyway. And I would try to land on his tongue if he stuck it out at me.

Oh, he listened so intently to my answers to his question.

Then he said, "Grandma, I want to be the wind. 'Cuz the wind is like wings to raindrops and snowflakes. Then I could take you with me wherever I go."

To which I, of course, completley and utterly melted.

And raindrops and snowflakes and wind have become for me much anticipated miracles.

- Sharon

Forty What?

I'm how old? Oh, yeah - it's my birthday! What with all the Red Sox fever in our house, it's easy to forget. I'm 42 today, which seems hard to believe, since I only feel about 27 or so. Don't get me wrong - I love being older. I'm happier within myself, and feel content with where I am in my life. I appreciate being free of the clouds of angst that followed me around through my 20's, and free of the sleep deprivation-induced inertia that fogged up my 30's.

Almost every woman I know in her late 30's or early 40's feels the same way. I've polled my friends and family, and short of those battling illness or in the midst of ugly divorces, we all agree that we are just so much more ourselves now, and that makes us happy. We have achieved a sense of contentment that we searched for all through our teens and 20's, watching movies and hoping for our soul mate to appear in a bar or a bus shelter, because didn't we need a mate to complete us? (Keep the snickering down, please.) We are successful, or not, but we know why (or why not) and we are okay with that.

And for those among us who aren't feeling great about our lives, there are a billion and a half magazines and books and television shows to help us figure it out. We have options, ladies. Sure, we all have our bad days, and our hormones are starting to get a little wonky, but heck - many of my older friends assure me that I'll looove saying goodbye to my periods. And one of these years, I plan to stop dying my hair and go gray. With the money I'll save from my every-5-weeks root-covering salon visits, I plan to go to Europe each summer. I hear Budapest is fabulous....

The only thing that bugs me is that feeling of being on the downhill side of my life, and that is ridiculous, since it's a purely mathematical supposition. In my head, I have this equation: if I hope to live to be at least 80, then 40 is halfway, right? Well, I've come up with a new mid-point for myself based on my own life experience. I've decided that the years of my life up to 20 don't count, since I was still learning how to be a person. That means that my new mid-life point is 50! I'm not going to stress about life goals and being on the downhill run towards death for another 8 years! Wahoo!

(Did I mention that my rationalization skills have improved with age as well?)

Here We Go Again!!!

I never thought I'd be thankful for JD Drew, but if it weren't for him, who knows where we'd be?

But now? We're going to the Big Show, baby! Again!!!!!

I'm so friggin' excited I can't stand it.

Standardized Tests

Sometimes I surprise myself. I'm not a big proponent of the standardized tests that are now required in order to graduate from high school in Massachusetts. I don't think that the test is a good one, nor do I think that the pressure to teach to the test is a great idea for curriculum. Lastly, I think it's horribly unfair to require every student to pass the test, regardless of special needs. But that's neither here nor there. They're required by law, the kids have to take them, and they have to pass them in order to get their high school diploma.

Recently, Massachusetts has added a new science portion to the test. Last week, when the MCAS results were released, the news was bad. A large percentage of the kids taking the science portion of the test, which won't be required for graduation until the class of 2010, didn't pass the test. My daughter is a proud member of the class of 2010, and passing the test is necessary for her to be granted a diploma, so we all waited for the test scores to arrive with a sense of dread.

When she took the test last spring, she didn't think she did well. Her particular test was in physics, and she got a great grade in the class and I know she learned all the salient points of the class, but she was worried she didn't pass. That's a lot of pressure on a kid, knowing that she's in the first class required to pass this section of the test as well as all the other sections.

The MCAS is a well-respected test. It has consistantly been rated as the best standardized test in the nation. For the most part, it does test what the state curriculum teaches. There are some oddities on this test, like the infamous 'stem and leaf plots' which are taught in 4th grade here in MA, but are not taught in many other places, leaving kids who move into the state post 4th grade in a pickles, but that's a problem with a non-standardized curriculum, one of the worst features of the NBLB statute.

Today in the mail we got the test results. I opened them with trepedation, thinking that she'll probably have scored in the 'needs improvement' segment. Imagine my shock when I saw that not only did she pass the test, she did so with a really great score, almost in the Advanced category. She was so surprised when I told her. She honestly was sure she had failed, and it was great to hear how surprised and proud she was. And I'm proud too, damn it. I hate standardized testing, but I have to admit I was thrilled to see she had passed when so many of the other kids in her class did not.

I still don't believe in requiring a test to be passed in order to graduate from high school, but I have to admit, I'm excited for my daughter to know she passed.

Now we wait for my son's scores. He has to pass everything this year for his diploma. I'm sure he passed everything, but the dread of waiting continues.