The Sixth of the Sixth

Many thanks to PsychMamma for tagging me for my first meme. You're to select the sixth photo in your sixth album and post it along with the backstory. Here's mine:





It's A's 2nd birthday and he's opening his birthday card from Sra., his nanny. Sra. has been with us since S. was 3-months-old and she is a true blessing in our lives. I have joked many times that she takes better care of my children than I do. She has unlimited patience with them and has always gone out of her way to make sure they are happy, but disciplined, children. I think she occasionally bribes them with candy, but who am I to judge (as my children sit watching Noggin while I type)? In general, Sra. doesn't spoil S&A, but birthdays and Christmas are exceptions. She always comes through with The Present. For S's first birthday it was a Dora car, for her second it was the Dora bike. For A's birthday this year, it was a motorized toy 4x4.


Now I get to tag six of you to participate (if you'd like):

A Mom Two Boys, The Big Piece of Cake, Jill, Elizabeth, Amy, and Quart (you'll have to start a blog first!)

What Happened to Pin The Tail On the Donkey?

It was just about a year ago that our family first stepped in to the world of over-the-top birthday parties for children. S. was invited to an ice skating party to celebrate the 4th birthday of one of her playmates. We showed up at the outdoor rink and there was Starbucks hot chocolate for all of the children and coffee for the adults. Skate rentals, rink time, and a skating lesson were all included. As if that wasn't enough, following an hour of so of skating, the entire troupe walked over to Noodles & Company for dinner and cake. All of this was generously provided by the birthday girl's parents. Which was really a bit awkward as we had never met them before. I felt like I should send a thank you note and flowers. At the very least, I should have spent more than $15 on the present.

All of this came back to me yesterday following a birthday party double-header for our family. First up was our neighbors' annual birthday party for their daughter who was turning three. As in previous years, there was a fantastic spread of homemade cuban food. And a moonbounce. This year, in addition, there was a surprise appearance by Minnie Mouse (the details of which I will save for another day). The guest list was modest, which was a nice contrast to the next party.

The next party was for a "nanny posse" playmate of S and A's, a nice girl with, um, interesting parents. In addition to having their daughter's entire preschool class and family friends (total: 25 adults, 400 children under age 4), they had as the headliner for their party this guy. To his credit, he kept the kids absolutely in stitches for 30 minutes. But $300 (or more) for some guy just acting goofy? Wow. Nice work if you can get it.

I don't mean to sound like an ungracious guest. I really do appreciate the wide circle of friends S. and A. have and the associated parents with whom we've become friends over the past 3+ years through preschool and the playground (in addition to the network our nanny has built with other neighborhood nannies). But when did it become necessary to shell out many hundreds of dollars for a preschooler's birthday party? Am I considered a bad host for having birthday parties that consist of a craft (this year it was making "crowns" out of posterboard decorated with crayons/markers/stickers we have in our everyday craft kit), snacks, cake and a pinata?

(Please don't get me started on "goodie bags." This year for A's party I just bought Baskin Robins gift certificates and boxes of crayons.)

D.'s observation on all of this is that the one requirement he has for all future parties for our children is beer for the grownups.

What are your best/worst birthday party experiences and how do you manage the expectations(both socially and those of your children) for your own parties? (Bonus points for any good ideas for keeping preschoolers entertained without tapping their college funds.) I recently came across this article that made me wonder if retro birthday parties might be a new trend. It would be one that I would welcome with open arms.

Put Down The Credit Card And Back Away Slowly

I'm on a diet. No, not a food diet, a financial diet.

I'm that person who goes in to Costco to buy milk, orange juice, paper towels and chicken breasts and ends up spending $250 and then wonders where our discretionary money goes each month.

Oh, yes, I can sanely justify it all: I needed that photo paper ($30), oh, and of course scissors ($10 for four pairs - what a deal!) to cut the photo paper into the necessary frame sizes. The truffle cheesecakes ($15 each) - freshly made in NJ and only available this weekend! - were to die for and I needed a dessert that day and another would be perfect for when I host Christmas dinner. And the pajamas for the kids (3 @ $9 each) - it is getting cold and won't they be so cozy in fleece? The 2-pack umbrellas (3 @ $20 each) will make great Christmas presents for my parents and in-laws (plus a set for us). The bound collection of Pixar stories will be a perfect accompaniment to the DVD box set the kids are receiving from their grandparents for Christmas. And finally, the fall arrangement ($12) of pumpkins and gourds will look lovely on my mother-in-law's table.

The problem? I do this every single time I am in Costco. Or Target. Or shopping online (how convenient that the Gap company now allows you to shop from Gap, Old Navy, Banana Republic and Piper Lime all in one spot!). I have my credit card memorized from so many online purchases. Yes, the three-digit security code, too.

Maybe I don't need a diet as much as I need a 12-step program.

As you can probably tell, I am the spender in the family. D's spending is guided by two questions: "Do I need it?" and "Do I need it now?" I think the last thing he purchased was a hammer. While we represent the two extremes, his is definitely the wiser method.

That last trip to Costco was the wakeup call for me. When I couldn't even remember all of the items on which I'd spent our hard earned monday, I realized something had to change. This had to stop and it was going to take more that me "trying" to really change my spending habits. So, I have made a pledge not to shop for the rest of the month. No Costco, no Target, no online purchases. I'm not even going to the grocery store. Obviously this puts the burden of providing sustinance and supplies on D., but he's happy to go along with the plan (provided I give him detailed lists).

After three days, it's actually been harder than I thought. The online temptations are powerful and enhanced by all of the promotions retailers are sending out in light of the current economic situation. But it's been a good challenge so far and will hopefully only get better. I'll check back in at the end of the month to let you know how it goes. Wish me luck.

Introductions (Sort Of) and A Selection From The Archives

I should probably back up a step here and tell you about about two of the players you'll encounter here from time-to-time.

While I am a blogger who happens to be a mother, I do not see myself as a "mommy blogger" per se. That being said, I will certainly have posts that involve my children so here they are:

S, 3 1/2, is a spirited girl, in both the positive and challenging ways. In spite of my best efforts, she is discovering princesses and her favorite colors are pink and purple.









S's little brother, A (age 2), is all boy. This child hasn't found a sport he doesn't love nor has he found an elevated surface from which he won't jump.

Though I'm happily married, thank you very much, my husband won't come up here except in a very minor role. My marriage is the one topic that is completely off limits.

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All of that out of the way, I thought I'd include the following personal essay I sent my mother and aunt back in the day when S. was just starting solid foods and I had the time/energy/inclination to make my own baby food.

Dear Mom & Aunt N-

So, as you may know, I've been making a good bit of S's baby food myself. It's been very rewarding -- my little "Martha Stewart" moment each week as I carefully prepare, puree, and freeze various fruits, vegetables and meats for her dining pleasure. So far it has gone well - most things turn out well, and very few aren't worth the effort (raspberries come to mind).

Lately, S. has been fond of bananas and apples. That's great, in the sense that she's getting plenty of fruit in her diet; not so great in that apples and bananas have a way of slowing down her little digestive system. In an effort to keep things moving along at their usual pace, I am trying to incorporate more fiber into her diet.

At the store today, I was browsing the dried fruit section for apricots when I also spied dried prunes. Before today the only thing I knew about prunes was that they are good for the purpose mentioned above, i.e., keeping a person's pipes clear. I figured it would be prudent for me to whip up a batch of prunes to have on hand as necessary for S's well being.

You're probably both a bit more familiar with dried prunes that I am (that is not an age joke - just a statement of fact). They have a sticky-sweet smell and a not-so-appetizing shriveled dark brown appearance. From my experience with different foods over the past few months, I deduced that the best way to prepare the prunes for the pureeing process was to poach them. This went quite well and the kitchen filled with the smell of earthy sweetness as the dried fruit simmered on the stove.

All was going along quite well. And then it was time to puree.

I don't know if you've ever had the experience of pureeing prunes, but to say it was surprising would be kind. First of all, they are very sticky and tough -- I had to add nearly a cup of water to my mini food processor to get them to a manageable consistency. Then there was the smell: At this point I have been smelling prunes, either poaching or being pureed, for nearly 30 minutes. The sticky-sweet-earthiness has slowly turned into an overwhelming stench. But the smell was nothing compared to their appearance.

As someone who has been changing a baby's diapers for over eight months,there was only one thing I could think of as I watched the tar-like brown puree whip around in the food processor. The similarities grew even more apparent as I spooned the puree into the ice cube trays for freezing. At this point, my senses were so overwhelmed and the associations with baby poop so vivid (I mean, really, what's the point of even feeding it to her since it will look the same coming out as it will going in?) that I had to fight the urge to give up and just wash it all down the sink. I think that the only thing that kept me from following through on that impulse was the thought of what this sludge would do to our pipes.

As two ice cube trays full of pureed poached prunes set in my freezer, there's only one thing I can say about this whole experience: I now know for sure that there are some baby foods that are best prepared by someone else.

Love, Me

Anxiety of Authorship

I tried this whole blog thing once before. My first post was about ants. As far as I am concerned, ants are Satan's miniature army. Every year they find some way to march their way in to my kitchen and crawl in to every tiny corner looking for a crumb to eat. And every year, I fight back - traps, spray, powder around the foundation of the house, ancient Indian rituals. Eventually the ants have their fill or grow war weary and head on to a new battlefront, but I know deep down that we will meet again.

That's what was on my mind the last time these fingers hit the keyboard in an effort to clear my mind, air my grievances, and enlighten the virtual world with my insight. So what stopped me? What allowed that post to linger and ultimately evaporate when I hit the "Delete Blog" button? Nothing other than the self-doubt that some/most/all authors have at one time or another. Or in my case, all of the time. Ever since I could read, I wanted to write. But ever since I received my first paper back with edits on it from my first grade teacher, I get that tight squeamy feeling in my chest when I put pen to paper (or fingers to keys) to bring my thoughts into the public space where they can be - dum dum dum - judged. (For what it's worth, my first grade teacher was a total bitch, but that's a story for another day.)

Ironically, I've become one heck of an editor over the years (save for my own writing - lucky you). I have no fear taking my pen to someone else's work, rewriting sentences, organizing paragraphs, changing (for seemingly the five hundredth time) "their" to "there" or "it's" to "its" or "She gave it to Pete and I" to "She gave it to Pete and me" (just because it sounds fancy doesn't mean it is). More than once have I written "what does this mean?" and "redundant." I hope the authors know it isn't personal.

All of that being said, following an incredibly fun, interesting, and enlightening dinner with a number of bloggers the other evening, I decided to once again give this a shot. This is just me writing down whatever happens to be on my mind from time to time. Feel free to leave a note or a comment. I know it's not personal.