One last visit from Santa!

-- It's not even Thanksgiving yet, and I'm already worried about Christmas. Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas, but this year I'm a bit nervous.

Friday, Nov. 20th, 2009
One last visit from Santa!
By Tisha Powell

I'm afraid to ask my seven-year-old what she wants from Santa for fear she has stopped believing. Christmas is just over a month away and she hasn't said a word. There are Christmas songs on the radio, toy advertisements and decorations up, and my second grader hasn't asked for anything from Old St. Nick or even talked about making a list to give him at the mall. Is my sweet little innocent daughter... a non-believer?

This past Easter, my daughter asked her dad if the Easter bunny really exists. He then asked her, "What do you think?" You could see her wheels turning, but she just sat in silence. We just let it go. She didn't push the issue, so neither did we.

The excitement of Christmas morning has been more fun as a parent than it ever was as a child. I remember my sister and I being too wired to sleep and chatting the night away until fatigue finally won over. This went on for years, but then suddenly.. it happened. We both stopped believing in Santa and stopped getting up in the middle of the night to look under the tree. Just like that... the magic stopped. Life pulled back the curtain on Christmas.

I know our kids have to grow up, but I can't help being a little sad. I know this will likely be our last visit from Santa, if he hasn't already scratched my daughter's name off his list. I just want one more magical Christmas like in the Polar Express. I wish I knew how to convince my daughter to keep believing in the jolly old elf just a little while longer. That's what I hope I get from Santa this year. p> Email me with feedback and comments.

Moms On The Go Home</center>

Wednesday, November 18th, 2009
Why, why, why...
By Frances Scott

Like so many of you, I just can't even fathom who could murder a child. I mean MURDER& and a baby girl, no less! I've been in "news" now for about 14 years, and have certainly known of plenty of child-abduction cases, but I still find it hard to believe that so much "wrong" is in the world. Every single situation that ends like this one just rips me to shreds. "Who could do this? How? Why?" At this moment, I know of at least eight dear friends who would love nothing more than to welcome children into their homes. Some people desire and cherish children; others treat them no better than hunted animals. Any ONE of these eight friends of mine would have joyfully brought Shaniya Davis into his or her family, especially to spare her from this fate. So many people long for babies, as my husband and I did years ago, and others treat children like trash.

What puzzles me so much is seeing that picture of her, dressed in that perfect pink and white dress, with those gorgeous bright eyes and simply perfect smile. She was obviously adored by SOMEONE, at least at SOME point. You know the will and determination it takes to take any child, clean and pressed, to a photographer. In the picture that I'll always remember, her hair was tied up neatly on top of her little head. Somebody had wanted to preserve that moment in her childhood. When I photograph my own children, I do it as part of an effort to, in some strange way, "preserve" them& to capture who they are and to try to remember how much I loved them at the very moment the camera lens clicked. That's part of why those of us who work "in news" simply enjoy documenting and conveying "life." Contrary to popular thought these days, many of us in media really do like the "good stories" better than the tragedies. I can tell you first hand, especially for those covering the search for Shaniya out in the field, this story has really left us with a sense of despair. Normally, when it comes to the bad stories, we're trying to show what's wrong, and hopefully provide part of the inspiration behind an attempt to fix the problem. With Shaniya's story though, how can we even begin to think there's a way to "fix it?" How do you fix something that is so fundamentally wrong?

My English teachers years ago taught me that every essay should be wrapped up with a driving-home point, or at least it should come full circle with a revelation, some sort of closure or some tiny bit of insight. But I have to say, when it comes to little Shaniya's story, I'm just stumped. All I can think is "Why?"

Monday, November 16th, 2009
Toy Degree
By Amber Rupinta I need a PhD. But, it's not what you think. The reason I need the advanced degree is due to the toys these days. If you have ever tried to open the packaging of a modern day toy, no doubt, you can sympathize. It is one of the craziest things I've ever seen with all the little ties, and plastic mini-bungee cords. Most of the time, it takes at least 10 minutes to get the toy free of the packaging it's been tied down into and there's a little dance I see my almost-3 year old son break into while waiting. I like to call it the toy-toy dance (this is not to be confused with the pee-pee dance he does at other times-but that's another story).

I know many toys are made overseas because it's more economical for the production. And, I am sure the travels the toys have to endure to get back on the shelves of stores across the world have everything to do with the high tech securing of the toys. And, no doubt, manufacturers know they would have complaints galore from parents after spending their hard earned money on a toy only to find it missing pieces or damaged in shipment. But, is there no simpler way to package a toy so parents everywhere don't have to break out the screwdriver, knives, scissors, pliers, jackhammers, and/or power drills just to get the plastic piece of kid heaven? (Teeth also work from time to time, but, in my experience are not recommended on a regular basis). One Google of this issue brings up 2.3 million responses! Really! Try it. 2.3 million online postings on this issue. So, at least I know I'm not alone.

This breaking into "Toycatraz" as it's lovingly referred to in our house is such a time consuming ordeal, that, my husband and I have agreed we would begin our holiday shopping now so we can devote time to untying the toys before wrapping them. We all know how fast the days go by, especially the holidays, so, we don't want to waste half of Christmas morning pulling the gifts Santa brought out of the packaging. Plus, my son has been telling me for the last few weeks he really really wants a marble elevator. I keep telling him to put it on his list for Santa. I am pretty sure he's finally starting to "get" it when it comes to the whole holiday gift-giving thing. But, for an almost-3 year old to wait months for a toy only to have to watch and wait for a half hour while it gets opened when it finally arrives seems like it would be like torture to a almost-3 year old.

Then, two days ago, we go to Target. I buy a toy robot that walks, talks, and spins around. During this time, I think to myself, 'They can make a robot that does all this, but, can't come up with an easier way to package him?' While waiting for the robot to be freed from his cardboard jail, my anxious son is doing the toy-toy dance jumping up and down and onto me. He's giggling while walking away to send his robot on an adventure and I laugh too. It only took me six minutes to free the toy out of the box and I didn't have to use any tools. My PhD professor would be proud. Email me and let me know about your toy opening issues.

<center>Moms On The Go Home</center>

Friday, Nov. 13th, 2009
Daddy Mix-up
By Tisha Powell

My husband and I went to a Veteran's Day program at our daughter's school. After it was over, a kindergarten teacher called us over to meet a student in her class. Come to find out, the little girl had mistaken my husband dressed in an Army uniform for her father who is currently deployed to Iraq. My heart sank. At that moment, I couldn't help but wish her dad were there with us and I realized how fortunate my daughter is to have her father safe at home.

My daughter was too young to really remember what is was like to when her dad was deployed, but I remember it well. What was already a challenging time as a parent was that much harder. I experienced the terrible two's, potty training, ear infections, accidents and more all by myself. I developed a new found respect for single mothers and what they face everyday. I remember driving my daughter around in the car on Sunday afternoons praying she would fall asleep, so I could go back home and do chores around the house. I would play video tapes of my husband reading her stories, so she wouldn't forget what he looked like and sounded like.

Life for military families with loved ones overseas can often be filled with anxiety, frustration and sadness. Many of my co-workers and friends would help me out by babysitting my daughter or picking her up from preschool when I had to work late. I wouldn't have made it through without their support. That's something I would like other moms and dads to consider if they know a military family. If you see parents who are struggling and need help.. lend a hand. They may be up at night worrying if their soldiers are going to make it home. Think about what you can do to give them one less thing to worry about.

Email me with feedback and comments.

Moms On The Go Home</center>

Wednesday, November 11th, 2009
Console Freak
By Frances Scott

I'm worried that video games might be the devil. However we now have not one, but TWO video game consoles in our home. Last year I agreed to let a Wii become our kids' Christmas present. I'd tried out Wii Boxing and had worked up a serious "glisten," so I figured the Wii offered our kids a lot more activity than most consoles. Plus we were living in the mountains of Southwestern Virginia at the time, where winter lasts eight months, and an allergy to cold was giving me hives. As a way for our kids to stay active without all of us developing hypothermia, I opened my heart and our home to the Wii.

Well wouldn't you know that the ONLY game they ever wanted to play was Wii Off Road, a driving game, which you can only play while SITTING there, virtually MOTIONLESS? To see our kids suddenly SO transfixed, irked me to no end; it was like I could SEE type-two diabetes settling in. But when it's a gift from people who'll notice its disappearance, is taking it away worth FURTHERING one's reputation as "the difficult, controlling, high-maintenance, hard-to-please, up tight wife who won't let her kids do anything that other kids do"? In addition, "protecting our kids from video games and television" has shown up NOWHERE on my husband's radar. "Some of the smartest guys I know started out as 'gamers!'" he tells me every time I broach the subject. Mind you I do go to bat when there's an issue that, in my motherly opinion, affects our kids' safety or health (wearing seatbelts, wearing helmets, eating vegetables, wearing helmets while eating vegetables, et cetera). I'm still trying to convince myself that it's OK to let this video game thing slide.

We moved down here to NC this past August with almost no personal effects. Left behind were the TV, the Wii, and the V Smile (another gaming system given to us when the twins were four, and the baby was two, for Heaven's sake). For the past three months, our kids have played with paper, clay, blankets and metal cars. I even caught our daughter trying to read the Marketplace section in the Wall Street Journal. The kids have built forts, looked at books, created roads out of popsicle sticks, practiced writing, finger-painted the carpet (OK, so that wasn't so great), and made entire cities out of decorated mac & cheese boxes. They fought less, played together more, and generally reflected upon me the title of "Superior Mother."

Well some of our stuff has finally made it here to the Triangle, and back are the fights over Off Road, complete with glassy-eyed stares. Every ounce of my being would rather see my kids sitting down with a book or driving their trucks all over our popsicle-stick-lined living room than playing video games. I am impassioned enough EVEN to sacrifice household order.

A recent study reported that some kids spend more hours in front of a screen than adults spend at work. I'm sure that 99% of those kids will be just fine, but my "inner mother" hates every bit of it, and I'm trying to figure out if there's a legitimate danger here or if I've just taken my "control-freak parent" inclinations to a whole new level. I've concluded that it's certainly not worth additional chastisement of my poor husband or the trashing of the gifts that people with good intentions have given us, but I do often dodge the issue all together. When the kids come to me, whining about a console that won't turn on, I just say, "Sorry. I'm not sure what's wrong. Mommy doesn't play video games. I think they're boring."

I'll also confess that a console or two "mysteriously" falls behind the entertainment cabinet at least twice a month. A mother has to maintain a Wii bit of control, doesn't she?

Next time, I'll tell you whether we've progressed beyond life in one tiny hotel room and moved finally into a permanent residence. (Here's a hint: "No.")

Monday, November 9, 2009
Getaway Guilt
By Amber Rupinta

In my almost 3 years of being a mom, there are many things I am still trying to figure out. But, one thing I know for sure-there are many things people don't tell you will happen when you become a parent. One that stands out for me, specifically, is just how filled with guilt you will be and how often it will happen. This guilt can best be described as the feeling you can't do everything you need or want to do and be with your children at the same time. There are even books about the phenomenon. I often ask my friends about this and they assure me- it's completely natural. Some say you "get over it" eventually as your children get older and become busier and more independent. But, for the time being, the guilt hits hard and often-at least for me. Some of the moms I have talked with say they feel guilty for working-whether it's a choice or not to work. Others say they feel guilty if they go to the gym for an hour and put their child in daycare at the gym or leave them with a sitter. Some say they feel guilty if they stop to do anything on the way home that may somehow cut into the precious and short time with their kids in the evenings after work . The overall theme with all the moms I talked with is no one seems to feel as if they have enough time or are devoting enough time to their children.

And, it doesn't matter whether you stay at home or work. It's seems like the guilt goes both ways. For instance, my three sisters and my sister-in-law and I have talked about a "girls" weekend for years. It is finally coming to fruition as we realized no one is breast feeding or pregnant and we can actually get away for a few days sans kids. So, we plan a weekend. Sure, there's a lot of juggling to make it happen with schedules and babysitters and husbands who agree to keep the kids all weekend while we are away. Then, a few days before the trip something happens. The excitement that was brewing when it was a month away has turned into anxiety. I can hear it in my sisters and my sister-in-law's voices. There is worry they shouldn't be going. There is worry they will miss something. There is worry all the laundry needs to be done, and the fridge needs to be filled with groceries before we leave. This strikes me as odd since the last time I checked, the grocery stores stay open and no one will go without clothes if the laundry stays piled up a few days longer than usual. I find myself feeling the same thing as the weekend approaches. Then, I remember something. My mom worked full-time my entire life. She had 8 children-yes that is correct-8 children and somehow managed. Yes, we all had to ask our siblings for help with homework or ask our friends parents for rides home from practice. I certainly remember packing my lunch by myself more frequently than not. For the most part, we turned out ok. But, I don't think there was a whole lot of guilt in that house from my mom. That's just the way it was. Does this generation have higher expectations? Do we over extend ourselves and our children?

With those thoughts, my guilt lessens and my hope that no one backs out of our trip grows. I am pretty sure in the back of all of our minds we know everything will be fine. The house will not burn down. The kids will not starve and we'll be back home and back to our routine before we know it. Soon enough, we'll be back to juggling days of shuttling kids to school or practice, running to the grocery store or the park, and putting out whatever fire sparks up on any given moment. Somewhere in the middle of the routine when we are back at home, we'll still feel like there's not enough time. Maybe it's just one of the things no one told me would happen after becoming a mom. Time has taken on significant new meaning. With that realization I have to come to a new conclusion. My friend Frannie said, "You're only guilty if you're doing something wrong." That is so true. So, with that, I unpack the guilt for this trip with my sisters. Because, no matter how many minutes a day I spend with my kids-it's how I spend those minutes that count. Email me and let me know how you feel about kid-less vacations.

<center>Moms On The Go Home</center>

Friday, Nov. 6th, 2009
Blue-eyed Dora
By Tisha Powell

While watching television with my daughter the other day, I happened to see a commercial for the new Dora Links Doll. It's being called the hottest new toy for tweens. You can link the doll to your computer and control her appearance. You can change the color of her jewelry, make her hair grow longer and even change the color of her eyes from brown to blue. Okay... I'm a bit disturbed.

Do we really need something else out there sending the wrong message to our daughters? Shouldn't we be teaching them self-confidence and acceptance? That they're beautiful whatever the color of their eyes or texture and length of their hair. Remember the good old days when Dora was a cute little Latina who palled around with her best friend Boots and went on adventures. Well, the folks at Mattel decided it was time for Dora to grow up and get hair extensions and blue contacts.

Dora isn't the only doll Mattel is making over either. Have you seen the new 'Palm Beach Sugar's Daddy Ken' doll? It's a part of Mattel's Palm Beach doll line geared toward collectors. The new Ken doll is wearing a swirly green jacket, pink shirt and white pants. Mattel says the doll's name is in reference to Ken's pet dog Sugar, and not the term often used to describe the rich older lover of a younger woman. Mattel says the doll that will be available next year is made for adults. I'm just glad my child is being influenced mostly by me.. 'Mommy'.. and not Mattel.

Email me with feedback and comments.

Moms On The Go Home</center>

Wednesday, November 3rd, 2009
Sympathy for the Turtle
By Frances Scott

There's a turtle in my car, and I feel really sorry for her. She's our pet turtle, "Boa," and she's become my car companion for the time being.

You see, we just left our apartment (a three-month lease). We had to tell the managers as soon as we moved in whether we wanted to be checking out in 60 days. "Of course," we assumed, "we'll be able to find a place by then!" Well "then" was this past Friday, and the condo we were trying to buy didn't close on time, because of some snafu regarding the property's title. (I can't tell you exactly the problem; I just know the phrases "TARP program " and "government purchase of bad, bundled debt" were involved.) I have to say, these are really hard times to be trying to buy a house. Most of us who've recently moved still have our "old house," back, wherever we last lived.

Selling our house has proven to be a bear, and of course we are like so many people right now: afraid to buy, for fear the housing market will drop even more. But even as we do try to show some courage and faith, we're realizing that right now is the first time for us (in five previous house purchases ) that the banks are really expecting more from those applying for loans. While applying for our loan, I got lost in all the paperwork and signatures, but I vaguely remember that the lender wanted to know my bra size, my daily fiber intake, and how many fillings were in my mouth. Sheesh!

Anyway, back to Boa. We're living in a hotel now, while we give the condo deal two more weeks to come to fruition. Of course hotels don't allow turtles, and seeing that it's a last-resort place for us to house our three children, I'm not even tempted to skirt the rules. So Boa's hanging with me, with the car windows rolled down, of course. I am, after all, a very compassionate woman it's almost my Achilles heel. When I see Boa crammed in that small white bucket, I feel her pain. I know she hates that tiny bucket. I know she'd rather be back in her expansive tank. As least I think she feels that way. She does convey her disdain effectively, hissing at me from the back seat. Poor little thing.

God describes himself as compassionate too. When describing himself to Moses (in Exodus 32), God picked a word that showed his own vulnerability: "compassionate." Our pastor talked about it last Sunday. I guess I'd never before thought of God as emotionally open or vulnerable to feeling my pain, but to truly be compassionate, his heart would have to hurt when our heart hurts. I've always understood that God is strong, powerful and all-knowing, but I've just never grasped, I guess, that he's compassionate towards us. I guess that notion really spoke to me on Sunday, because compassion for my own children has really felt like a handicap at times, at least when they're throwing their worst fits. Sometimes their pain or frustration almost paralyzes me. I've thought on so many occasions, "If their crying didn't upset me so, maybe I could handle mothering without throwing tear-filled tantrums myself. "

It's not that crying children get to me; it's when MY children are cryingor, not even that they're crying, but that they are in some way troubled or hurting. It's not the noise; it's the unhappiness. I heard last week: "A mother is only as happy as her least happy kid." Boy isn't that the truth? I'm not sure if all fathers get that, but I'm coming to understand that our heavenly father gets that, and I think it's really cool.

I'm not saying that my heart is even 1/1000th as loving or as compassionate as God's. I guess I've just taken new comfort in knowing that He too feels it deeply when his children throw tantrums or get hurt. I just wish I had some of his wisdom, to know that my children will indeed be OK, that we will eventually have a place to call home, and that this poor turtle will soon be on stable ground again.

Email me with your own stories and comments.

<center>Moms On The Go Home</center>

Monday, November 2, 2009
Eating Standing Up
By Amber Rupinta

Is my house the only one that turns into what I like to call the "witching hour" close to dinnertime? Do you know what I mean by the witching hour? Let me describe the scene. Usually around this time, my almost-3 year old has taken every cushion off of the couch and draped every blanket he can get his hands on over them. He has pulled any free toy into his couch "fort" and has started doing somersaults from the coffee table onto the cushions. Usually around this time, my 1-year old screeching like a pterodactyl is pulling on my leg to be picked up to A) see what I am cooking or B) point to every piece of food in sight as a signal to me that he is hungry. As if I'm not already feeling enough pressure to get the food on the table, right? Now, I need to do it even faster with one hand making sure I don't burn the baby on my hip.

So, there is the mad rush to get something to eat on the table for the kids and, of course, something on the TV like Moose A. Moose is blaring (see previous blog entry titled Someone's Getting Neglected). One child is laughing and screaming and jumping into his couch fort while the pterodactyl screeches are increasing in intensity. I am not saying I don't enjoy this rowdiness-I am sure I will look back on these hours and miss them. I, in fact, love having a rambunctious house. I just think it's amazing how having kids makes what used to be an easily accomplished daily task now extremely challenging.

As the "witching hour" comes to a close and I am scrambling to get the food on the table I proceed to wolf down my dinner while standing. This brings me to another observation-every meal I eat at home now seems to be done while standing. Somewhere in the back of my mind I hear the news reports that say children who eat with their families stay out of trouble. Trouble is-did that study take into account the "witching hour" leading up to that meal. And, does it affect the children's outcome if mom eats standing up? Email me and let me know if you have a "witching hour" in your house.

<center>Moms On The Go Home</center>

Friday, Oct. 30th, 2009
It's not swine flu?
By Tisha Powell

Last Friday night, my daughter took two bites of her dinner and then put her head down in her dad's lap. She was down for the count. I thought to myself she MUST have the flu. She has been vaccinated for seasonal flu, so it has to be swine flu. That's all anyone talks about, so what else can it be. By midnight, she her temperature was 100.5. By the next morning, it had gone up to 103.2 degrees. Our flu battle was officially on.

Dr. Dad, the pediatrician, brought our seven-year-old to the hospital with a rising fever, chills and body aches. Her lungs looked clear on the x-ray and her flu screening came back negative, but she felt horrible. We decided to treat her flu symptoms with ibuprofen, acetaminophen and Tamiflu. Her fever went up and down from 102 to 104.6 degrees all weekend. To make matters worse, she started vomiting, breathing rapidly and complaining of a new pain in her chest in addition to the other body aches.

By Monday morning, I thought things were looking up. She got her appetite back and ate a pretty good breakfast. It was the most she had eaten in three days. That was around ten o'clock in the morning. By four o'clock, she was vomiting with a fever of 105.4 degrees. I was terrified and about to call 911! That's when her dad walked in from work, listened to her chest, and we were off to the WakeMed emergency room. A new x-ray showed she had pneumonia and needed two different antibiotics. She got her first IV and handled it like a trouper. They let us go home that night with instructions to come back for more antibiotics and another x-ray the next day.

After a week, my daughter is finally on the mend. She's using something called an incentive spirometer to help with her breathing. We're also patting her on the back to loosen the phlegm in her lungs. The big question: Did she ever have the flu? My husband says the flu screening could have given a false negative, but there is also a possibility we could go through this all over again with swine flu if there's no vaccine available. It's a very helpless feeling. I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Email me with feedback and topic suggestions.

Moms On The Go Home</center>

Wednesday, October 28th, 2009
Evil Lurks
By Frances Scott

I often hear that those of us "in the news" like to sensationalize. But maybe it's just that we become intensely passionate, after what we see and hear, while doing our jobs each day. But I'll confess that I simply cannot understand how a human being could NOT be passionate about the abduction, abuse, rape or murder of a child. When a child is abducted, missing, abused, or killed, I want to shout it from the rooftops, so that people caring for children understand how real the danger is, and realize that predators can literally jump into our lives in a matter of seconds.

I wish my kids could enjoy the sunshine by themselves sometimes, or even partake in unrestricted neighborhood romps, but I also want them to live long enough to enjoy such freedoms as adults. I can never remember running freely in a neighborhood, with friends or without; however I distinctly remember the time at which I first understood that there were indeed bad people in this world. It came shortly after the abduction of a Charlotte fourth grader named Amanda Ray, and it was affirmed by the abduction of a Charlotte five year old named Neely Smith. At about 3:30 p.m. on July 18, 1979, Amanda Ray's mother got home from work and couldn't find Amanda. The next day a family, out picking blackberries, found Amanda's body. She had been beaten and smothered. Police believe sexual assault was the motive behind her murder. At about 5 p.m. on February 18, 1981, five-year-old Neely Smith walked from her apartment to a neighbor's apartment to see if anyone could come out and play. Within the hour, her family was searching for her, and within two hours, police had been called. For about two months, her family and the entire city of Charlotte it seemed searched for Neely. Two months later, a guy noticed what looked like a human skull in a driveway. Neely Smith had been raped, beaten, and smothered.

In 1987 a man named Fred Howard Coffey Junior was convicted of murdering Amanda Ray. Police had also questioned him about Neely Smith's murder and numerous others in Virginia, Maryland and Tennessee. According to a psychologist who testified at his murder trial, Coffey admitted to sexually assaulting more than 100 children, up and down the East Coast. Today he is 64 years old. He's in a medium security prison here in NC, and is up for parole again in two years. This coming Monday, he'll have another custody review. A change in his custody status would send him to a minimum security prison facility, where he would become eligible to work and attend church outside prison fences.

I could go on and on, reciting more stories of kids I've known or have covered in the news, who were raped, fondled, snatched, beaten or killed, either by relatives, friends or strangers. CJ Wilkerson. Precious Whitfield. Tristen Buddy Myers. Indeed some child predators are caught. Some are convicted. Some do register as sex offenders, and some even use their real addresses when they register. I don't want to sound judgmental or condemning toward people who parent differently than I do. Agreed-- there's no excuse for a person harming a child, ever. Agreed-- the parents of young victims need prayers and love; most already feel enormously guilty and responsible. My hope is that we all arm ourselves with reality. I'll never forget Amanda, Neely, Precious, Buddy or CJ, or that first sense of vulnerability that I felt when Amanda was murdered. Whether we want to acknowledge it or not, that danger is still here, and it's still lurking. Please don't let down your guard.

Monday, October 26th, 2009
Am I Wearing A Diaper?
By Amber Rupinta

"Mommy, am I wearing a diaper?" That's the question my almost 3-year-old son asks daily now that we are potty training in our house. And, each time I get that question, I wonder, "If he knows enough to ask the question doesn't he really know enough to just go?" It also makes me wonder how many other things he really knows but doesn't let onto. After a week of the 'am I wearing a diaper question,' I now have a pad answer, "I don't know, you tell me. Are you wearing a diaper?"

Now, I'm no genius, but, I'm pretty sure he can tell with one feel of his bottom if he is in fact wearing a diaper or not. So, he usually gives me a yes or no answer and then decides if he needs to go to the potty. This leads me to my next observation of the question which I'm not so sure is a question, "Mommy, can I have a treat for going in the potty?" That's usually followed by, "I could have a cupcake. I could have a lollipop. I could have a muffin." I think there's a little more behind these questions coming from my son. So, we are now redefining "treat" in our house to mean something more than a sugary substance.

Treats can mean a lot of things now. Treats can be a sticker-which is going to take some time to get used to on his part because unless it has him climbing the refrigerator 20 minutes after eating it--it was not a treat in his mind. (He really did this the other night after eating a cupcake. He held onto the door handles and climbed up the front of the fridge.) Treat can mean we go to Target and pick out a new matchbox car-which is a 2 year old obsession and quite the bribing tool for moms. But, I am working on making my praise also fulfill the treat requirement.

So, last night, I got the question and we headed to the potty. Afterwards, I took the pre-emptive strike and said, "Mommy is so proud of you for going to the potty." And, to my surprise, his response was, "Thank you Mommy." My heart melted knowing that was treat enough. Then I decided it was a great time for a cupcake.

Email me and let me know your potty training tips.

<center>Moms On The Go Home</center>

Friday, Oct. 23rd, 2009
Clean Up! The Cleaning Lady is Coming!
By Tisha Powell

My husband never thought it was necessary, but I did it anyway. I hired a cleaning lady. Trying to work a full-time job, raise a child AND keep a clean house is close to impossible, so I hired someone to help out every other week with the cleaning. It's a move I thought would help relieve some stress. Boy was I wrong! One of the most stressful times of the week is the day before the cleaning lady comes. There's a big rush to pick up, so she can clean up. How can she vacuum floors covered with toys and dirty laundry, or wipe down kitchen counters cluttered with dirty dishes and bills. The morning she comes, I'm constantly in motion doing last minute chores.

A lot of people tell me that all the cleaning I'm doing defeats the purpose of hiring someone to do it, but what exactly is acceptable to ask a cleaning lady to do? I find myself unstacking the dishwasher and filling it back up, so she can clean the sink. Should they do laundry and widows too? I often tell the cleaning lady to treat my daughter's room like she would her own daughter's room. Put things away neatly like the books on the shelves and prop up dolls on the dresser. I tell her to make neat piles of stuff throughout the house. That's how I live my life.. in piles. Piles of clothes, piles of magazines and piles of junk mail. I rarely know where the bills are, but somehow I manage to pay them.

I have to admit I was green with envy listening to a co-worker talk about how her new nanny who takes care of her baby also cleaned out her refrigerator and organized her cabinets. My husband says the only way to get someone to do more is to ask. I always struggle with asking the cleaning lady, babysitter or anyone else to do anything. I'm under the impression that if they thought it was part of their job they would be doing it already. So like most moms, I just do whatever needs to be done myself to avoid controversy. Okay.. why did I hire a cleaning lady again? The vicious cycle continues.

Email me and let me know if you have the same issues.

Wednesday, October 21st, 2009
Jedi Mom Gets 'Cool' Stolen
By Frances Scott

"Oh Sweetie! You look like you're from The Matrix!" said my husband this morning as he kissed me goodbye. I didn't know whether to take his statement as a compliment or not.

Last week, his remark was, "Ewww! That outfit makes you look like a Jedi!" "Um--- Thanks-- I guess," I replied.

I think he's been shocked lately, now that I've gone back to work, to see me dressed in anything other than sweatpants, pajamas, or the standard-issue Mom uniform: a slightly stained t-shirt, black yoga pants, pony-tail and running shoes. There actually is a strategic reason we moms defer to that ensemble. It makes us look like we might have just been to a hard-core workout session for several hours at the gym with our trainer, Philippe. However we know the truth: we just spent the first half of our day picking granola pieces out of the grooves of the hardwood floor and trying to scratch the dried yogurt off the glass-top kitchen table with our fingernail, followed by no less than 60 minutes of chasing a jacked-up toddler through the grocery in an effort to pick up JUST TWO THINGS, followed by a good two hours of trying to get that same exhausted toddler to PLEASE take a nap so we could finally (at 2pm) get our bath for the day, before all the other rug-rats get home from school. Plus, Philippe's rates are too high anywayand he's not cute enough for us to spend that kind of money.

Now I'm no rocket scientist, but my sense is that any Star Wars reference, coming from a man age 20 to 50 years old, (I'm fairly sure) is a good thing. The problem is I am not even cool enough to know what's cool anymore. I might tell you that I no longer care about being cool, but I'd just be hoping you'd think I'm cool for not caring.

I drove to work today, feeling sort of cool still, because I was listening on my iPod to Temple of the Dog, what I consider to be the last cool CD I bought. (Although, when I bought it, I was actually purchasing a cassette version.) As I sat in traffic through RTP, I wondered to myself, "When was it that I actually lost my 'cool'?" Was it the day I sent my bikini to Goodwill? Was it when I started having to wear makeup every day to cover the age spots I'd acquired during all the years I spent tanning in butter and baby oil? Was it when I stayed inside a cubicle so much that my hair no longer naturally got blonde from the sunshine, and I had to start coloring it to hide the gray too? Was it when commercial radio suddenly started offending me? Was it when physical therapy became more of a part of my daily life than running, weight lifting or snow skiing? I know I'm not cool anymore. I just wonder exactly when and how it happened.

My sense is that doctors remove your 'cool,' when they deliver your first child. I'm not sure where they put it, but I'm thinking that they give it to your children for future use, say, in middle school or something. The good Lord certainly knows that a middle-schooler will need 'cool' way more than you do. I am CERTAIN my OB/GYN removed part of my brain when she delivered my twins. I think the next doc, who delivered my third child, removed whatever grey-matter was left. Why not take the modicum of 'cool' you have left as well?

Fast-forward 15 minutes, and it's now five 'til nine. The cubicle beckons, and I realize I'm seeing my last few rays of sunshine for the day. I turn into the parking lot at work. The iPod has shuffled on from Temple of the Dog to the end of a Matt Nathanson song (probably the only artist I've purchased in the last 4 years), and again, I sense a lost twinge of cool. (It's hiding somewhere in the car. I can feel its presence.) I turn up the song even louder, and open the door to my car, letting the song rock the neighborhood, fantasizing that someone will hear it and think, "Man, Frannie's old, but she's still a little cool." While wrestling with one of the eight bags, purses and satchels which I carry to and from work each day (another sign of "uncoolness;" cool people live free and unencumbered), the iPod shuffles to the next song, and before I can run around to the front of the car to hit the pause button, my high-heeled boot gets caught on my Matrix coat.

I fall into the very pile of homeless-lady bags, satchels and purses that I'm trying to unload. As the rest of my coworkers emerge from their cars, my iPod blasts one of my kids' favorite songs to the entire ABC 11 parking lot-- "We are the Doodlebugs."

I'm no rocket scientist, but I'm fairly sure that the doodlebugs just killed what cool I had left. Monday, October 19th, 2009
Swine School
By Amber Rupinta

Working in the news business can be a blessing and a curse when it comes to being informed. Case in point-H1N1 or the swine flu . We all know the swine flu has been leading local and national newscasts for months http://abcnews.go.com/Health/SwineFlu/ . You hear about children dying from the swine flu and in many cases it's children with pre-existing conditions like asthma. But, it still makes you worry about sending your children off to school. Last week, I stopped into a pre-school to talk about registering my 2 year old son and the first question I had was, "How many cases of the swine flu have you had?"

But, I wonder-shouldn't we be just as worried about the seasonal flu? Is it because the swine flu is new and leading the news that there is such a fear? My son is asking to go to school and I want him to go, but, now people are telling me I should wait until next year when he is 3 and the flu season is over. The problem is, I wonder how we ever managed to get to this point with all the things we didn't know about growing up. I would really love to talk to someone who has a child who had the swine flu to know just how bad it really is.

There is so much information it is hard to determine what is hype and what is the reality. If I give my son the swine flu shot will it help protect him enough that I won't have to worry about sending him off the his first adventure to school? Has your child had the swine flu? What are the symptoms? Then the other day my friend tells me her doctor isn't swabbing to determine if her child has the swine flu, but, he's sure that's what it is. This only confuses me more. So, I am going to cross my fingers and let him start pre-school knowing he will get sick regardless. Maybe I'm the one who could use a lesson from a mom about the reality of children who get the swine flu.

Email me and let me know if you have any insight into the swine flu.

<center>Moms On The Go Home</center>

Friday, Oct. 16, 2009
Biker Baby
By Tisha Powell

My family and I were riding home from church and pulled up next to a man on a motorcycle. He had a passenger riding with him who appeared to be his daughter.. maybe about nine years old. This young girl was wearing a half shell helmet, a t-shirt, capri pants and flip flops. I thought to myself as I turned around and looked at my seven-year-old daughter, propped up in a mandatory booster seat, is that legal? Well, come to find out.. it is. According to the North Carolina Department of Transportation, there is no age restriction when it comes to passengers on motorcycles.

That just seems odd to me considering the recent changes in state law regarding booster seats in cars. In 2004, legislators passed a law requiring children younger than eight years old and weighing less than 80 pounds remain in booster seats. Supporters said it would prevent injuries and deaths. The last thing I want to do is upset motorcycle enthusiasts, but does a child really belong on the back of a motorcycle? The idea scares me to death. I just wonder if that little girl's mama knew where she was.

I'm sure many parents are excellent riders, but it's not them I'm afraid of. A few months ago, I was driving down the road and needed to switch lanes. I didn't realize until it was too late that I had forced a person on a motorcycle out of their lane. I just didn't see him. They were able to quickly switch lanes to avoid disaster. Other drivers simply not seeing a motorcycle in traffic is one of the most common causes of motorcycle accidents. If you can't see an adult on a motorcycle.. how can you see a child along for the ride?

<center>Moms On The Go Home</center>

Wednesday, October 14th, 2009
Buy This & Get Skinny
By Frances Scott

"Mommy look! If you get that stuff, you'll be skinny!"

My daughter's words stopped my beating heart. She had been watching TV for some reason. I normally only let our children watch PBS, because I understand, somewhat, the power of advertising. (Notice I said *I* only let them watch PBS. My husband doesn't subscribe to all my "rules," but he tolerates them while I'm home.) Normally our kids get bored enough with the PBS long-format documentaries that they wander off and start drawing, screaming, torturing one another, or generally causing household chaos. But for some reason, in that millisecond, a different channel was on, and my daughter noticed a commercial for some sort of diet aid. I was so upset by her remarks because, in her six years of life, I have gone out of my way NEVER to criticize anything about my body or appearance and, in fact, ONLY to praise myself (in spite of very real doubts and struggles).

One day, as I was getting ready to go somewhere, my husband, after casually mentioning that his mother ALWAYS wore a bathrobe while getting ready, said, "You know, when the boys get older, they may not want you to be walking around the house like that." I said, "I want them to know what a REAL woman's body looks like." I feel it's so important for us to show both boys and girls that the bodies we see on TV are normally those of the most fit people, whose JOB it is to stay in shape, which sometimes requires hours of fitness training several times a day.

My parents have never mentioned my body-shape or appearance, at least not in front of our kids. Of course my husband has never criticized my appearance. (Otherwise I'd be a widow.) So how did my children pick up on my struggle with weight?

When I moved here from Virginia two months ago, I brought only our clothes, some sleeping bags, a tent, our computer and my treadmill. The treadmill was our only "real" piece of furniture for weeks. Maybe my occasional foray into the world of home-fitness has tipped off my children. "Mommy needs to work out to keep her back strong and to stay healthy," is how I normally put it. It has, however, always been my intent to emphasize to our children that "Skinny isn't necessarily healthy," and "We want to be strong and active, not skinny for skinny's sake!" But somehow she's caught on about my battle with weight. Why are kids so smart and perceptive, even as kindergarteners?

When she made the "skinny" comment, I decided to use the moment as a teachable one, again reminding her that our goal in life isn't to look like or be like people we see on TV, but to love God and other people and even ourselves. I reminded her, as I have in the past, that most of what she'll see on TV and all around in America is marketing, and that it does serve an important purpose: to help people make money to support themselves and to provide support for other people in this world. Marketing isn't the bad guy. Not recognizing marketing for what it is; that's where we seem to have gotten off track. I am so proud when I hear my six-year-old son say to his three-year-old brother "That's a want, not a need," or "They are just trying to get us to spend our money, but we need to save for college."

Of course if marketing didn't work and weren't an important part of business, I'd not be here writing you today or enjoying any other aspect of employment. I love TV and its ability to reach people. I love our country. And and maybe it's because I married an accountant, I think that what I understand about capitalism has greatly benefitted America. I respect capitalism, not because it's enabled us to be one of the world's wealthiest countries, but because of how that wealth provides us with the opportunity to help others. That said, I'm going to start being even more diligent in making sure that when my kids see commercials, and when I see commercials, we also see THROUGH them.

The next time my daughter saw that same commercial, I heard her say, "Mommy's fine, just as she is." My Strategic, 18-Year Mommy Marketing Plan has begun to work.

Monday, October 12th, 2009
Someone's Getting Neglected
By Amber Rupinta

OK, I survived the trip to the doctor solo on shot day. I have to say, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be! My first son's trip for shots at two months that scarred me was not a true indication of what it would be like with baby number two on his first birthday. I have to admit, I shed a few tears, but, we both survived.

Now, that brings me to my next topic-just surviving. Many mothers experience those days (some more often than others) that we are all doing ok if we just survive. I am on a mission to stop this in my house and it doesn't seem like I can. My friend, Denise, and I were talking the other day and she was saying in her New York accent, "You know, Ambah (that's not a typo-that's how she says my name) those women who are at the park all dolled up with their hair and nails done and their trendy outfits are all a sham, right?" She continued, "Someone's getting neglected for her to look like that!" And, as Oprah says, I had an A-ha moment!

Someone does have to get neglected for anything to get done in my house. Mommy needs to cook dinner so we don't eat out five times a week and I can provide you with a nutritious meal-someone's getting neglected. Mommy needs to fold the laundry so we can all have some order when we reach for a t-shirt in the hectic morning-someone's getting neglected. Mommy needs to go to the gym for my sanity and to fight the baby weight (see previous blog entry) and you guessed it, someone's getting neglected.

Now, when I say neglect, it's not the "call social services" type of neglect. It's the "put on Noggin" http://www.nickjr.com/about/noggin-nickjr.html and buy myself 20 minutes type of neglect. In fact, I'm not embarrassed to admit Moose a Moose is my pinch hit babysitter from time to time. But, that frazzled feeling of never having enough time and the daily feeling of, ok, we are surviving this doesn't seem to be going away. I am guessing it will get a little easier when I don't have two kids in diapers and they can interact together more when the play. But, currently, it's my 2 year old snatching everything from my 1 year old as he screeches like a just hatched baby dinosaur. I could drop what I'm doing and get involved to make sure they are playing nice, but, something else would have to get neglected. I guess for the next few minutes, we'll just survive.

Email me with your experiences.

<center>Moms On The Go Home</center>

Friday, Oct. 9, 2009
What's in a name?
By Tisha Powell

One day my husband came home from work and told me about four newborn baby boys he had cared for that day at the hospital. They were all from different families and all looked different, but all had one thing in common. They were all named Aiden. According to the Social Security Administration, there were 904 baby boys born last year in North Carolina named Aiden, Ayden or Aidan. When you add them all up, the popular name beat out the number one name of William which only has one common spelling. There were only 878 of those last year.

So where did this obsession with the name Aiden come from anyway? My best guess is the hit show Sex and the City and Carrie Bradshaw's lovable boyfriend Aidan Shaw played by John Corbett. Many fans hoped Carrie, played by Sarah Jessica Parker, would eventually marry Aidan, but we all know how that turned out. This may not be where the Aidan obsession began, but a lot of women of childbearing age did faithfully watch that show.

I guess what I'm really wondering, as I type on my Mac laptop like Carrie, is why so many moms choose names for their children from the same small pool of names every year. For instance, at my daughter's dance school there are 11 Carolines, 11 Hannahs, 10 Emmas and 8 Emilys. Emma was the number one name chosen for baby girls born in this country in 2008.. beating out Emily which ranked number one for the past 12 years!

My daughter's first and middle names come from my paternal grandmother and my husband's maternal grandmother. I will admit I was in love with the name Emily Grace, but after doing a little research we decided to go in a different direction. We honestly didn't consider any celebrities, star athletes or politician's names. We just wanted something simple her teacher could pronounce and the average person with a brain could spell. We also wanted her to have a name with some family history that she hopefully wouldn't have to share with half of the other girls in her class. Some people try to avoid that by giving a popular name a unique spelling. Last weekend, I saw the name Bridget spelled B-R-Y-J-Y-T. Don't expect to find that on a keychain.

I love it when celebrities have babies because I can't wait to see what crazy and unusual names they're going to come up with for their new kids. Sometimes I just turn to my own family for amusement. My brother-in-law's sister named her daughter Cartier Milan after an expensive brand of jewelry and the fashion capital of Italy. Maybe she's fulfilling he materialistic desires through her child. I have known people named Porche, Mercedes and Diamond.

My mother plucked my name from the credits of a movie she was watching while in labor starring actress Tisha Sterling. According to howmanyofme.com there are exactly 11 people in the United States named Tisha Powell. Tisha is a name that's often mispronounced and often misspelled, but one thing I have grown to love about my name... I seldom have to share it.

Wednesday, October 7th, 2009
From a little Libra on a public school bus
By Frances Scott

Just One Perspective...
I'm a Libra, and it seems to fit perfectly with my chosen career. Libras are constantly trying to find balance, thus "the scales" are our sign. I am always weighing and considering and trying to make up my mind. It's not that I'm easily influenced, but I can normally see things from many perspectives, and I enjoy finding out what other people think and why. When it comes to Wake County's school system and its efforts to make schools effective for all kids, I am honestly able to see both sides: those for keeping schools neighborhood-based (Who doesn't want their kids near home?) and those who want to make sure no school has more than a small percentage of kids who come from homes below the poverty level (A less-than-affluent neighborhood shouldn't mean that kids should be doomed to a less-than-stellar education).

I spent all twelve of my primary school years in the Charlotte-Mecklenburg School System. At the time, it was one of only a few American systems that subscribed to "forced busing." A student would spend three years going to a neighborhood school, then three years being bused to a school way across town, then three years close to home, and three years of being bused across town. When I was nine, I remember leaving home at 6:00 in the morning to ride the bus for an hour or more to a school far from my home, in hopes of keeping schools racially diverse. I hated the busses. I hated the trouble the kids on my bus would make during the long hours riding the busses. I hated being in a school in a neighborhood I had never seen before, and knowing my mom was more than an hour away. I was scared. I don't want our kids to experience what I experienced with forced busing.

When I was young, being raised by a single mom, I am pretty sure I would have been considered one of the "poor kids." In my neighborhood, I saw kids with pretty rough lives and also a lot of things I'd rather forget. My second elementary school was in the most economically-challenged part of town, and in fourth grade, I remember being so scared, because there were bars on the school windows. I hated the bus rides that made my school day far too long. One day, my classmates found a hand on the playground. Yes, a man's severed hand? under our monkey bars. What an education I was getting!

When I was ten, we moved to an area where the wealthier kids went to school. There were girls on my sports teams who needed rides home after practice, and when I'd drop them off, I'd find out that they were headed not inside to do homework like I was going to do, but out to fast food restaurants to work for the money their families so desperately needed. Talk about a great life-lesson! As I drove home to hit the books, I wondered how they would ever be able to do their homework, once they finished working at 11:00 at night. I also thought about how hard it would have been to be involved in any extracurricular sports or activities, if my high school hadn't been so close to home.

On the flip side, there were kids in my AP classes who wouldn't have had access to those specialized classes, had they gone to their neighborhood school instead of the school across town in the "suburban" area. I became friends with girls and boys whom I never would have gotten to meet, were it not for forced busing. I now love and am comfortable with people from all backgrounds and economic spectrums, thanks to forced busing.

The real problem for me came when I got to college and found I was woefully unprepared. The kids at Virginia Tech with me had been educated in the Northern Virginia school districts and simply knew much more than I did, plus they knew how to study. Though I'd taken AP, AG and advanced classes, I'd never been challenged enough to need to learn how to study. I wondered how I could have graduated with a great GPA and still was so far behind. It made me wonder if Charlotte school leaders had spent money on diesel fuel that they could have used for hiring and keeping the best teachers. A lot of my friends' moms were teachers and they really did care about their students, but couldn't afford to stick with teaching, because it didn't cover their own life's expenses.

I think the answer, at least for my family now, has come down to one word: choice. If my husband and I, as parents, can be the ones to select for our kids the schools that are the best academically and the best for our family's circumstances, and if all parents are given that choice, then competition will force the "under performing" schools to get better, provided there are consequences for the under performers and rewards for the over-achievers. My diverse educational upbringing has taught me that great teachers come from all ethnic backgrounds, have all skin colors, and can succeed at making kids love to learn in spite of troubled neighborhoods and in spite of economic trials. But we have to affirm what works, and we have to be able to walk away from what doesn't. I am so curious to see which way Wake County is going to go. Email me with your own stories and tips.

<center>Moms On The Go Home</center>

Monday, Oct 5th
Painful Vacinations
By Amber Rupinta

My son is due for his one year vaccinations. This is usually a really bad day in my house and it's more my fault than the babies. Normally, I have my husband take the kids to their shot appointments because I bear to can't watch them get injected.

Yes, I know this may be a little extreme, but, I discovered I had a "low" shot tolerance at my first sons two month check-up. That was the first recommended round of shots AAP Immunization Recommendationsby our doctor. Maybe it was the hormones of just having had a baby, but, I cried hysterically and had to leave the room. From that point on, I have always stepped out of the room when they need shots or had my husband take the kids.

Well, this time around, he is out of town when the appointment is scheduled, so, it looks like I am on my own. I am nervous. I am also wondering if other parents feel the same way on shot day. I have asked a few people and most say they don't get really nervous about the shots. Sometimes, I wonder if it's from working in the news business. There is so much news about what can go wrong with reactions. When I was pregnant with my second child, I covered the "Green Our Vaccines March" on Washington. Green Our Vaccines March This fueled the debate about vaccinations in my home.

So, between the warnings on both sides of the vaccination debate are parents like me hoping they are doing the right thing for their children. But, I know one thing for sure, check-ups where shots are recommended are dreaded days in our house. So, as we say in the news business, stay tuned to see what happens next after my solo visit.

Email me with your own stories and tips.

<center>Moms On The Go Home</center>

Friday, Oct. 2nd
Extracurricular Overload
By Tisha Powell

As the choir director leads a number of singing kids, a seven-year-old bolts into the sanctuary twenty minutes late wearing pink tights and a leotard. Choir practice starts promptly at six o'clock, exactly when dance lets out. My daughter wants to do both. But it's not just dance lessons and the church choir on her list of after school activities. Her time is divided between several hours a week of gymnastics training, religion class and ice skating. Oh.. and lets not forget the violin that's sitting on the floor in the guest room. Her father is planning on creating the next Itzhak Perlman.

So just how much is too much when it comes to a seven-year-old's itinerary? I was always told that it's all about your grades in school. If your grades are suffering, then you have to give up an after school activity that's cutting into your study time. My daughter is actually doing pretty well in school. I couldn't ask for more. I'm pleasantly surprised by exactly how well she manages to balance an advanced cirriculum at school and all of her sports and social activities.

What I am worried about is the toll the demanding sport of gymnastics is taking on her body. For a seven-year-old, she's very lean and is showing symptoms of Osgood-Schlatter Disease, a condition that causes her some knee pain. According to Dr. Dad, it's pretty common in growing athletes. She simply needs some rest. But with her rigirous workout schedule, downtime is hard to come by.

I have come to the realization that we can't do it all, and one day I'm going to share that information with my daughter. We cut back her time on the ice tremendously because skating conflicts with gymnastics, but that hasn't diminished her desire to skate. I also hope the choir director at church continues to be understanding when it comes to her tardiness. Singing is one of her passions. I admit I'm still trying to figure out how to juggle them all and decide what to let fall without her being too disappointed. I don't want to be told ten years from now.. "You killed my dream."

What matters most to me right now is her happiness. The look on her face when she won first place at her last gymnastics competition was absolutely priceless. Shock and pride all rolled into one. She had a feeling accomplishment and pure bliss. What I'm also proud of is the person she is becoming due to her busy schedule. She has the discipline it takes to stay on task in school, the strength and flexibility of a good gymnast and she has a strong faith and commitment to her church. All the right ingredients of a pretty well-rounded child. How did I get so lucky?

Moms On The Go Home

Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Monkey Bars and Merle Haggard
By Frances Scott

I just joined Curves. I feel kind of silly, but I'm really enjoying it, and I wish I could spread the word to all women who are intimidated about working out in a coed gym. In the past few years, I've developed a sort of self-consciousness about working out in coed facilities, in part, because of all these crazy hip and low-back stretches that my physical therapist has prescribed. Nobody wants to be known as "that news lady who's always doing contortionist moves." It's bad enough being recognized at the OB/GYN's office.

My answer to this conundrum was to do my exercises at home, but let's get real. If you have a family full of preschoolers and kindergarteners, you know what happens whenever you get down on the floor and start stretching. We call it "Mommy Monkey Bars." All our kids immediately stop whatever they're doing and immediately jump on me like I'm some sort of monkey-bar gymnasium. Obviously, at that point, my attempt to work out has been thwarted.

The thing I like most about Curves, beyond the fact that there are no men around and the women talk non-stop, is that truly, the women running the place get you in and out in 30 minutes. The women who work there emphasize to all of us guilt-ridden females (who feel like we really should be home with our kids or doing laundry or putting in extra hours at work) that our bodies are worth 30 minutes a day, or at least 90 minutes a week. It's funny that we need so much reassurance about that, isn't it? But "if Mama ain't happy, " as the saying goes, "ain't nobody happy." And if Mama's clothes are tight, and she's feeling fat and out of shape, not only is she not going to be happy, but the Mommy Monkey Bars are a lot less likely to be open for business.

OH, and I promised in the last blog to tell you about my run-in with Merle Haggard. Yes, meeting famous people is one of the cool parts about my job, but this run-in was not what I had in mind. It happened this past summer, when I was working in the bureau of my last station, which happened to be located in the Civic Center of Roanoke, Virginia. Because it was a bureau, nobody was ever there in the office with me, especially after hours, when all the Civic Center people had gone home. Well earlier one summer day, the reporter who'd already logged numerous hours had asked me to feed (send via microwave) his story back to the main station for the 11pm newscast. I said, "No problem."

Fast forward four hours, and I was home in my pajamas for the night: orange and black Halloween pants, complete with bug-eyed black cartoon kitty cats all over them, and a red Dale Earnhardt Junior "Number 8" tank top that my husband had bought me as a joke one time, after I'd said I thought "Little E" was kind of cute. Well I was in the middle of my dinner (Frosted-Mini-Wheats and a Kit-Kat bar) when I realized that I'd forgotten to send in the reporter story and panicked. It was already 10:30 p.m. I'm sure you can relate to eating dinner (cereal and candy) well past 10 p.m.

I put down the Mini-Wheats (but not the Kit-Kat), grabbed some flip-flops, and jumped into the car. When I got to the station, I noticed an unusual amount of cars in the parking lot. What was normally an empty civic center parking lot was packed. I ran in, sent in the story, and proceeded to finish my Kit-Kat, as I walked, relieved that I'd made deadline, back to my car. I was "mid-chew" when my eyes met his. It was none other than Merle Haggard himself, who'd obviously just finished his concert in the building beside mine, and was headed from one tour bus to the other. For a second I tried to figure how I could avert our crossing and maybe take a different path to my car. But it was too late. We were on a b-line toward each other. To change paths would have seemed obvious and awkward. I worried that I'd offend him if I suddenly ran in the opposite direction. He was carrying a box of Triscuits that he was taking from one tour bus to another. Our passing was unceremonious. He gave me a courteous nod, and I efforted a grimacing smile back. The king of Outlaw Country had just seen me in my pajamas.

I'd always pegged Merle as more of a Wheat Thin man.

Moms On The Go Home

Monday, September 28, 2009
The Joy of Less
By Frances Scott

Burn the Pod.

I was thinking this morning how happy I am that we don't have furniture. Perhaps I'm just trying to relive my college years, the years we went "sans furniture" to save money. This time my husband and I have left all of our furniture back in Virginia to help our house up there show better in our futile attempt to sell it, but it's driving my mom and my Aunt Mary nuts. "I can't believe you don't have any furniture!" says my mom. "Well, we DO have mattresses, Mom, and really, with three small kids, we spend all of our time on the floor anyway!" I said.

We do have a kid-sized table though, so the kids can eat dinner on something other than the floor (or in the tub). It's a table upon which my cousin Rhonda and I used to play "waitress" when we were six years old. Actually my real-life waitressing skills have helped me so much as a mom and in the work force. Are the kids crying because they don't want the food that you've served? Yes, I remember handling several customers like that when I was serving lobster bisque at Duffy's Quarterdeck in Bar Harbor, Maine, in the summer of 1992.

Daily my son and I do this little dance that I like to call, "My milk's not warm enough/Now it's too hot!" It sends me running back and forth between the microwave and the ice-maker, normally, about five times per morning. "Save your steps," we used to say in the waitressing world. That means you should never let a trip to the kitchen be just for one purpose; always grab a dirty dish to take with you or the tea-pitcher for that other grumpy customer. In the morning, I am a grumpy waitress in a restaurant full of grumpy customers. Oh, and one other thing that one of my waitress-friends taught me: "Don't expect tips? You're lucky just to have a job." That one has helped me a lot recently, both in the office and at home.

Life without furniture has shown me how simple life can be, without all of our stuff. Your stuff really does own you. I've found that to be true, the more I let go of it. My husband thinks I'm purging stuff that we actually do need and that I'll end up buying it all again, but now that I've started getting rid of all of our stuff, I'm addicted to the idea that it's gone on to help a family that really needs it, and that I don't have to dust, move, maintain or look after it ever again!

All we really need to get by in life, even with children, is Children's Tylenol Flu medicine, a few games of knee football on the bare living room floor, book-time each night, a camera, some Diet Mountain Dew, and a very strong washing machine and drier set. We've even gone for months now without cable! As we've gotten rid of some things, and other things are just sitting in a Pods unit somewhere, I've realized how little I need, and how little I want, which is really making my husband happy, as we house shop. Suddenly 1400 square feet of house seems like PLENTY of room for a family of five. I'm sure it will be, until the Pod and the moving truck show up. At that point I plan on having a huge yard sale and taking a huge truck straight to Goodwill.

I was sharing all of these epiphanies with my dear friend Amber Rupinta. "Downsizing is in," she told me. Now I just hope I am just as successful in downsizing my hips.

In the mean time, I hope our Pod burns. I don't ever want to see that stuff again.

Next time, I'll tell you about my recent run-in, in my pajamas, with Triscuit-weilding, country music legend, Merle Haggard.

Moms On The Go Home

Friday, September 25, 2009
Back in Black...
By Frances Scott

You can learn a lot from Angelina Jolie. Well you can learn at least one thing, and it's something all mothers of multiples know: black is your best friend, when it comes to dressing yourself. My husband was looking at some picture of Angelina in an _Us Weekly_ I had sitting around. (Notice I had bought it, but HE was looking at it.) "I can't believe you read these things," he always says of the tabloid rags I bring home (my guilty pleasure).

"Angelina Jolie always wears black," he said, staring at her picture, to which I replied nonchalantly, "That's because she has so many children."

Whether you have one child or six, as a mom, you know that simply getting dressed in the morning is a huge struggle. Add to it the frustration of trying to dress several other live, wiggling, resistant bodies, and you understand why black is my color of choice. Several years ago, I threw out all of my shoes that weren't black. They were just taking up space and cluttering my life. Now finding shoes that match is one less thing I have to do in the morning.

From that point on, I said, "If I can't wear black shoes with it, I'm not buying it." So the next articles to go were pants that were any color other than black, and then non-black tops. There are so many reasons to celebrate black. You don't have to worry about things not matching if you wear only black. When kids brush up against you, they don't leave a stain. We all look trimmer in black. When you own only black clothes, packing yourself becomes much easier too, leaving you more time to care for others. Black top? Check. Black pants? Check. Black shoes? Check.

And... if you've not put on makeup yet for the day, or brushed your hair, you simply look eccentric if you're wearing black, not mentally unstable. And isn't that what we're all striving to hide anyway? Next time I'll explain why my life is ten times better now that I've given up furniture. (No, that's not a typo.)

<center>Moms On The Go Home</center>

Friday, Sept. 25th
Not in Our Backyard
By Tisha Powell

My neighbor just told me that another one of our neighbors recently put a new brick fireplace in his backyard. I failed to notice any construction, so I looked out of my bathroom window to catch a glimpse of this new addition. I noticed that in the process of putting in a fireplace, my neighbor had to move his trampoline farther out into his yard, and a little closer to mine. Great! Yet another reminder that we DON'T have one.

I grew up with a trampoline in my backyard and spent countless hours bouncing up and down and up and down. I was out of the house, out of my parents hair and having an energy burning good time. I later went on to make the cheerleading squad at school because there was so much pep in my step. The trampoline was a great way to practice my cheerleading jumps, and I loved it. My daughter who is a gymnast loves it too. She runs straight into the gym and right to the trampoline. It's the only place she is really allowed to jump on one.

Very few holidays have gone by without my daughter asking for a trampoline, but Dr. Dad the pediatrician always gives a stern.. "No." He calls the trampoline the state flower of North Carolina because there's one growing in nearly every backyard. He insists they're just not safe and proceeds to recall every trampoline injury that has ever come through his office. Yes.. the American Academy of Pediatrics says trampolines can be very dangerous and there are a lot of injuries, but many are caused by too many children jumping at once. When I was a kid, a bunch of us would drag the thing just close enough to the pool so we could take a flying leap from the trampoline right into the water. How dangerous was that? I wouldn't recommend it, but I don't see a problem with one child jumping on a trampoline with safety nets and pads in her own backyard with a parent watching. I guess I'm just a mom who wants to see her kid be a kid, and a happy one at that.

When it comes to this issue and Dr. Dad, there is no middle ground. We're not getting one. I think what scares him the most, aside from our little girl getting hurt, is feeling like a hypocrite. I can understand his need to be honest with his patients and parents, but sometimes it's hard living our lives by medical journals and statistics. I remember the day he took the training wheels off our daughter's bike. After several wipeouts and bumps, she eventually learned to keep her balance. It made me so nervous I could barely watch. But you know what, she is better for it. I know I'm not going to win this backyard battle, but I just can't help reminiscing about the many afternoons I spent as a kid in my backyard... bouncing.

<center>Moms On The Go Home</center>

Wednesday, September 23th, 2009
Baby Weight and Miami Spice
By Amber Rupinta

We went on vacation last week and spent some time in Miami. I discovered some good news while on vacation. My 1 year old son has decided on his own that sand isn't the greatest snack. My 2 year old kept picking up coconuts and spent the vacation trying to figure out how to open one to drink the milk. That was a nice treat for me since I was worried I would have to fight him to stay out of the water the entire time as he was telling me for weeks he was going to try surfing.

Miami is one of my favorite cities with all the culture, cuisine, trends, and posh places to stay. But, I also discovered that being in a bathing suit in Miami can be bad for your self esteem. It seems like everywhere you look there are beautiful, exotic women who are dressed like they stepped off the pages of a magazine or walked off their photo shoot and grabbed their kids in their 5 inch stilettos to strut down the street without even blinking an eye. I think I spent more time people watching in Miami than I did beach watching. I am well aware plastic surgery is very common in Miami-in fact, you are the minority if you haven't had anything done. Plastic Surgery In Miami So, I'm trying to keep in mind that many of these women have had some help. But, it still makes you think and wish.

Every woman struggles with "baby weight" after having a baby. After my first baby, the weight came off pretty easily with a lot of exercise and diet diligence. Second baby-and 2 c-sections later-not so much. I am sure the fact that I polish off every unfinished bowl of macaroni and cheese, chicken fingers, and pizza my 2 year old leaves behind isn't making it any easier. And, Im so much busier this time around I always find myself eating on the go (thus my ants in the car blog). But, if you google search losing baby weight this is the first link that comes up Baby Weight followd by thousands of other links. So, my question is, how long do you keep waiting for the baby weight to come off? How long can you say, "I just had a baby." Will you ever feel "normal" again?

As all these thoughts linger, I go back to work and have a voicemail. It's from a friendly woman named Veronica. She watches ABC11 and wants to know what I'm doing to lose so much weight after having had a baby last year. I think I'll call Veronica back asap. She's the reality check I need after going to Miami. Next up: choosing a preschool-yikes!

Email me and let me know what you think.

<center>Moms On The Go Home</center>

Friday, Sept. 18th Heroine of Hair
By Tisha Powell

I remember walking my daughter into class one day and running into her best friend. The desperate little girl asked.. "Miss Tisha can you help me?" She was holding a ponytail holder in the air with her hair all disheleved as if she'd just rolled out of bed. She said to me with her soft sweet voice.. "Daddy dropped me off." I knew immediately that was code for save me from the embarrassment of looking homeless for the entire day. I immediately grabbed her pink scrunchie and proceeded to comb this child's hair and restore a sense of pride and normalcy to her life.

What is it that's so hard about men learning to do their daughter's hair? This little girl's father is a chemist. He can whip up the most complicated of pharmaceuticals to cure the rarest of illnesses, but yet learning to put is daughter's hair in a ponytail is beyond the scope of his capabilities. He's not alone though. It's also a challenge in my home. My husband will volunteer to dress our 7-year-old daughter... if I do her hair! Where does this aversion come from. My husband is a pediatrician. Let's call him Dr. Dad. He often tells me about the delicate process of performing circumcisions on newborn baby boys, but this same man approaches combing his daughter's hair with such angst. I have to admit, he is getting better as our daughter gets older. The straightener I put in her hair is also making things easier.

This may seem like an attack on dads, but hair can also be a challenge for moms too. While sitting in church, I often find myself scanning the sanctuary looking at happy and sometimes not so happy children. I can't help but notice all of the little girls with their hair tightly anchored to the tops of their heads like Red from Fraggle Rock. I recently had one mom ask me for help with her daughter's hair, and I have agreed to help out. Mainly because I actually like styling hair. I love seeing the smile on my daughter's face when she looks in the mirror and giggles at the sight of her reflection. I know that she feels loved, happy and pretty, and that makes me feel really good.

Email me with comments or topics about your mothering experiences.

<center>Moms On The Go Home</center>

Thursday, Sept. 17th I blame my kids for my hips
By Frances Scott

Getting off the baby weight, after four years?

I used to work out at night. Now that I have kids and a husband, I stay home at night and read about working out. The latest book I'm reading is called The Cardio Free Diet. I picked it up one day, because my back and hips were killing me. Did you know that sitting at a desk or in a car is actually about the worst thing for your lower back, especially for those of us who run or used to run? Low back pain is also big problem for women, after we've had kids, because of a hormone called relaxin. No, I didn't make up that word. It's a real hormone that helps your ligaments stretch to help your pelvis expand for delivery of your baby. Relaxin is also why our feet grow about half a size during pregnancy and never go back to normal. Our feet have so many ligaments that stretch, because of relaxin. Well after pregnancy, our ligaments don't always go back to their normal length, but are too stretched out, so women's bodies become, kind of, "too flexible," and that often leads to back and hip pain.

So that's why I don't work out anymore. From the birth of my twins in 2005 until now, when I walk (at a very slow pace), I am in aggravated pain for days or weeks afterwards. My physical therapist called it "lower cross syndrome." Basically, it's common among long-distance runners whose hip flexors are overdeveloped, and whose gluteal muscles are often underdeveloped. (Save your flat-fanny jokes please.) Add to that, sitting for hours at a desk, which shortens your hip flexors, and you have a recipe for low back and hip pain. I taught aerobics for about six years during college and grad school, and ran about for at least an hour several times a week from age 14 until age 26, and I'm thinking that didn't really help my joints very much either. Jane Fonda just had hip replacement surgery in June, but she says her years of aerobics had nothing to do with her damage. Either way, I'm taking a break.

So that's the back story (ha ha) of why I don't do cardio right now. Well The Cardio Free Diet was developed by Jim Karas, who helped Diane Sawyer lose weight a few years back and who now trains Hugh Jackmon (and did you see how lean he was in Wolverine)? Karas' premise is that how you look and feel comes a great deal from what you ingest, and that, if done properly, weight-bearing exercises can give you a significant amount of heart and lung benefit, without the cartilage damage that can sometimes come from running or aerobics. Now I'm not endorsing his diet; all I can do is tell you what it's done for me, a gal who, right now, is having a hard time doing cardio.

The first thing I noticed is that, when I went to the grocery with the week's grocery list that Karas puts in his book, my cart was overflowing with all that bulky raw food! Normally, my cart only contained what Cookie Monster calls "sometimes foods." Basically, if it wasn't squirted out of the back of a factory and wrapped in plastic, I didn't buy it. That worked for me when I could run five miles a day, but not now. My grocery bill was also very high, but that may have been because I'd taken my three-year-old with me to shop, so I couldn't pay close attention, and bought too many expensive organic vegetables!

The second thing I noticed was that I felt, physically and mentally, better than I ever have in my life! For a middle-aged mother of three, that is saying a ton. It let me know just how poorly I must have been eating, and how that must have been what was affecting my mood. It was either poor diet or three small children.

Finally, I noticed that there was a significant amount of preparation time involved, washing, chopping and storing all the vegetables and fish you have to eat, but I found that I could do almost all of it on Sunday. That made fixing the meals much easier during the week. I don't like seeing raw meat, so that was another obstacle to overcome, but I just substituted a lot of cooked tuna for a lot of the meat Karas mandates. With all the time I was saving, not driving to the gym, changing clothes, or walking for an hour on the treadmill, I had time to chop a few vegetables.

So I was set to go forward on this amazing lifestyle change, but that's when I got the job offer from ABC 11. So I switched my focus to selling our house, finding a new place to live here in NC and getting our kids started in kindergarten and preschool. Now that we're as settled as is possible in an 800 square foot apartment with three kids, I'm ready to hit The Cardio Free Diet again, and I want you to hold me accountable, or even join me!

And please don't tell my kids that I'm blaming my back pain, weight gain and lack of exercise on their birth! It's bad enough that I'm making them eat all this tuna and raw broccoli.

Email me and let me know what you think.

<center>Moms On The Go Home</center>

I need a cape... not the Supergirl kind; just a run-of-the-mill-getting-your-haircut cape. I could wear it all day, and my clothes would stay free of stains until it's time for the 5:00 p.m. news. HD television is going to kill me. I'm not worried so much about my facial wrinkles showing. We all have wrinkles anyway, don't we? You know I have them. I know I have them. If I didn't have them, they'd be coming, so let's get on with showing them? But the stains are really going to be a struggle for me. Years ago, on T V, a tiny makeup, coffee, or chocolate smudge on your jacket button hole wouldn't have shown, and I was very thankful for that but now that we're in HD, I'm in big trouble? until I get my cape.

Another thing I've noticed, being back at work, is that it's freezing. The internet technology guys claim it's because the computers need to be kept cool so they run properly, but I know it's a testosterone thing. Guys are always hot in their suits and ties, and we women are always scantily clad and freezing. So I have to remember to bring my blanket to work. All women here at ABC 11 (and I'm sure at your workplace) keep blankets at their desks. But I keep freezing, because when it's time to leave in the morning, I'm so nervous about getting my three-year-old child to daycare and the fit he's about to throw, that I forget to throw the blanket in the car. (Today was the first day in 30 days that he didn't scream at drop-off. He did protest, but it wasn't a full-out assault, Praise God!)

Since I've been back at work, I've also realized how fun it is to try to keep your kids from touching you, after you've gotten dressed for work. My days as a running back, playing flag football at Virginia Tech are serving me well. It's almost like you have to stay in your pajamas all morning while you get everybody ready, load them into their car seats, run back inside, put on your "real clothes" and then rush back out to the car. I used to come home from work on my dinner break and sneak upstairs before the twins knew I was there? to change clothes. One misstep could cost us $17 in dry-cleaning! Isn't that incentive enough for a cape? They say that, once you have more than two kids, you go from "man to man" defense to "zone," but I think, whenever my kids see me fully dressed and ready for work, they work out a masterfully planned blitz on this quarterback. I'm sacked every time. There goes my $17 bucks. I hope my kids don't grow up, remembering their mother always saying, "Wait! Don't touch me yet!"

I remember watching an Independent Lens documentary on called "Iron Ladies of Liberia," about the woman who had become leader of the country and all her cabinet members. (Yes, I really do like PBS shows.) I hate to say it, because she had such a huge job to do, repairing a war-torn country that's trying to recover, but I was really distracted by her beautiful outfits, thinking how great it would be to be able to wear one of her tunic-style dresses OVER my suit, in an effort to stay clean and warm. Would it be politically insensitive for a woman like me, a Pacific Islander of Polish, Belgian, and Scotch-Irish descent, to wear a traditionally East African style of dress? On the days when it's 30 degrees outside, and my hair is nothing but a static-filled mess, I'd also like to wear one of the traditional African headdresses.

For now, I'm just going to try the Snuggie, though I need to find one that's been Scotch-guarded and is fleece on the inside. That way the food and makeup won't stick to the front of it, because the good Lord knows I don't have time to do any extra laundry! You think I can get one for under $17? Oh, and that's why I've been eating Zone bars for the past four days; they're not messy, they're full of protein, and normally won't crumble and leave stains on my suit skirts, when I'm eating them (as I eat all meals) in the car. Go ahead and tell me. I know it any<hr />way. Your life, too, is this glamorous.

Next time I'll tell you about the new diet I'm starting: The Cardio-Free Diet. It's a book that was written by the guy who trained the star of the latest Wolverine movie. I'm not a real Wolverine fan, but one of my favorite actors costars in it. Can you see me? Looking like an all ripped up Wolverine news anchor? I can't wait. I'll also tell you why I keep washing my iPods. And no, that's not recommended.

Email me and let me know what you think.

<center>Moms On The Go Home</center>

<hr />

Monday, September 14th, 2009
Baby's First Birthday-Sort Of
By Amber Rupinta

So, I have made it through my second sons first year! Woo-Hoo! Definitly worth a celebration, right? But, there's one problem. This was not on the top of our "to do" list now that we have two kids, and, my husband and I both work full-time. So, here we are the day before D's birthday and we have no birthday planned, and no idea when we can pull this together. Last night I was wondering, does it really matter if you throw a party for a baby's first birthday-the baby won't remember, right? Wrong!

Fast forward after about an hour on the computer looking up party ideas and even Wal-Mart has suggestions for baby's first birthday parties. wal-mart first birthdays Now, I am feeling like a woman who totally does not have it together so, I call my mom. She wonders how this date came as a "surprise" and crept up on us. So, I turn on the TV and look in my DVR. And, I admit it, I watch Tori and Dean. And, here's an episode to really make matters worse-it's called Stellapalooza. Stella is her daughter who just turned one and Stellapalooza is her first birthday party complete with ponies and a ladybug theme. Stellapalooza

Now, I know Raleigh is a far cry from Hollywood, but, this makes me decide I absolutely have to have some sort of party with at least one or two friends to celebrate. So what if we celebrate the party about 3 weeks late? That's the only time I can gather everyone to have a little cake and take a few pictures. Geez, a kid only turns one once, right? Next time, I'll tell you how our adventures at the beach go this week for our upcoming vacation. D has discovered sand is his favorite snack and J has decided he's big enough to surf at 2.

Email me and let me know what you think.

<center>Moms On The Go Home</center>

Wednesday, September 9th, 2009
The Best Mom in the World
By Frances Scott

Well I'm back at work here at ABC 11 after four years off. During these past years, I've had a third baby and somehow managed to get my twins to six years old. All along the way I've said "If everybody survives, it's been a good day," and when I'd drag my brood back into a store to pick up my ((insert lost item here? shoes, purse, keys, dry-cleaning, cell phone, iPod)) that I'd left behind, "At least I didn't leave a kid" always seemed to keep the talkers quiet.

Seriously, it's so awesome to be back to work. To get to be actually paid to be reading and learning, all day, every day, and talking to people; well, you just can't beat that! But along with that comes the mommy guilt of which I am trying to absolve myself. (It's not working.) My youngest has screamed for 30 days straight, as I have dropped him off in his temporary institutional care facility. I've tried cajoling, coaching, snuggling, and going "cold turkey." Nothing works. I feel so sorry for him.

I do have an increased sympathy for single moms and dads, as my husband has stayed behind in Roanoke for a month or so, to give his company more "time" to adjust to life without him at the helm. WOW. That's all I can say. I know that, for me, this time as a solo, working parent will quickly end? like, in days, but I really feel for the moms and dads out there who know that "doing it solo" is just the way it will be for years on end. It's a good grind, but a grind none the less. Last night I gave the kids dinner in the bathtub. Let's just say I'm not the most domestic of parents.

My kids and I are having a blast though. We are breaking all the rules. When I was pregnant I read so many books on how to parent and actually felt that the supporters of "attachment parenting" and "co-sleeping" in the "family bed" were making the most sense. At least, to my heart, they made sense. I also read the books On Becoming Baby Wise and Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child, and agreed that those philosophies made sense too. I WANTED to keep the twins on a schedule, but there was literally nothing I could do to stop myself from rushing to console them upon every whimper. But thankfully I had married a reasonable man who maintained that schedules and "children sleeping in their own beds" was the way it should be. But he's not here right now. Hee hee. So I have an incentive plan to get him here sooner. Right before he left to go back to work in Virginia for the week, the kids said, "Daaaad! Don't go!!!! We're learning bad haaaaaabits! We're sleeping in the faaaaaamily bed! We had Frosties for diiiiiiner all last week!" That'll get him!

Tomorrow I'll tell you why we're all sleeping in a tent and why I've had nothing to eat but Zone Bars for two days. If you want to feel like a great parent, just read my blog.

Email me and let me know what you think.

<center>Moms On The Go Home</center>

Friday, September 4th, 2009
Ants in my minivan
By Amber Rupinta

Yes, ants in my minivan! I noticed the creepy crawlers on Sunday when I opened the door behind the drivers seat to put my eleven month old into his car seat. There was an army of ants all over the baseboard where you step up into the car. First, I thought it was just a few ants that had just started crawling onto the car and I had caught the problem early. Boy, was I wrong! I opened all the doors and found ants on and under all the baseboards! Ants!

Apparently, the crumbs my kids drop in the back of the car while in their car seats had gotten so bad, there were crumbs in the area under the automatic door. Well, this area is like a sort of "trap" but it's outside the car. So, the heat warmed up those crumbs which was like sending off a sugar alarm for the ants (reminder-always pick up those little puffs when 11 month old drops them!).

So, I aborted the mission. Put the kids back in the house with their dad and peeled out of the garage to the nearest (and highest powered) vacum I could find. On the way there, I couldn't help but think about a few things: First, I really need to start vacuming out my car more often-maybe once a week. Second, perhaps, I should feed my children before we head out the door. And third, are those bug bites on my 2 year olds back really ant bites? Feeling pretty much like I wasn't winning any mother of the year awards anytime soon I frantically vacumed out the van then headed to the store.

Now, ant traps are hidden under my baseboards and ant spray lines the "trap" under the automatic door. Good news is, I saw a few ants over the next two days but, haven't seen any since. I'm keeping my fingers crossed and wondering-am I the only person who finds surprises like this in my car since having children?

Email me and let me know what you think.

<!-- DO NOT DELETE THIS CODE --> <center>Moms On The Go Home</center>

Classifieds | Report A Typo |  Send Tip |  Get Alerts | Most Popular
Follow @abc11 on Twitter  |  Become a fan on Facebook

Get more Community »

community

• Comment Now
• Email
• Print
• Report a typo
•