Some End Of The School Year Thoughts

by Ajike Akande

Well folks, we survived.  This Thursday is the last day of school.  As we kick the school year to the curb, I’ve got three things I need to share.  

1. I would be remiss if I didn’t send a little love to the Late Slip Lady given our history outlined here and here.  

Dear Late Slip Lady,

I am sorry about our daily lateness for the past few weeks.  It’s just that I feel no pressure at all to get the children to school on time anymore.  I refuse to fall for the principal’s claim that important learning takes place in the first ten minutes of the school day.  Let me remind you, I am a teacher; this is a lie.  In June, this is an outrageous, are-your-pants-actually-on-fire, lie!  The report cards have been written, signed and placed in manila envelopes.  The teachers are lovingly caring for their students and getting them to help tidy and pack up the classroom.  

This chill feeling about the morning school bell is precisely why the other day when a (killer) squirrel came into my house at 8:30 am, I was not at all worried about the time and getting the kids to school.  I hope that my neighbours also feel chill about not getting places on time because when I ran out of my house screaming for Wife, I also ran to the neighbour’s and asked that they come with a broom to help shoo the (killer) squirrel out of the house.  They were happy to help.  They are very neighbourly.  They may have regretted being so helpful when they realized that in rushing to my rescue, they locked themselves out of their house!  Ooops!  Sometimes there are downsides to being neighbourly!

Anyway, Late Slip Lady, as you can see that right until the bitter end, I have good excuses for our lateness.  I’ll miss you and I know that your summer will feel empty without the Silverman-Akande kids.  Perhaps you can get a job at their summer camps.  We will totally be late for camp too!  

Love,

Late Mommy

2. I have a lucky bunch of school-agers.  While our kids are super challenging at home, they have captured the hearts of their teachers at school.  I know how fortunate we are.  There will be years when this won’t be the case.  There are kids for whom the end of a school year is a much-needed break from being misunderstood and poorly taught.  We will have years like that, I’m sure but we are so grateful that this year we got lucky.  On the first day of school I posted this on Facebook:

To my kids' teachers:
Today I am sending you three of my babies - two more than last September. Please know that they are not perfect. Oh no they are not! But they are perfectly precious. And they are my babies. And I know what it means to be in your shoes, so I know that it won't take long before they feel like your babies. I promise that I am sending you the best kids I've got. I am not leaving the "good" ones at home. 
I hope you have a wonderful day meeting all of your new school "babies". May there be at least one moment today that leaves you excited for tomorrow! 
love, 
Ajike

Here is my end of the year message to their teachers:

To my kid’s teachers:

My kiddos are going to walk out of your room on the last day of school and they’ll say good-bye the same way they have all year.  They won’t stand on ceremony because it’s the last day of school.  They probably won’t hug you or say thank you or anything like that.  They have grown to take you for granted.  I know it’s not okay to take people for granted, and I wish they wouldn’t take you for granted but you’ve become a big part of their life.  They’ve grown close to you and have grown to trust you to love them.  It’s true.   They really believe that you love them because that’s how you’ve treated them.  They think you’ll always be there for them so there’s no need to make a big deal of saying good-bye.  The last minutes of the last day of school are surprisingly anticlimactic.  

I hope you have enjoyed your students as much as my kids have enjoyed you.  I hope you are as smart and right as they say you are about everything, because since you came on the scene in September, I’ve been wrong about almost everything!  

Thank you for making me feel good about sending my kiddos off to school every day!  

Love,

Ajike

3. I have a favour to ask all of you, particularly those of you who are in our lives or who are part of our Facebook or Twitter family (It scares me that I have a Twitter “family” and I truly do not at all understand Twitter).  Please do not brag about your wonderful magic moments with your children over the summer.   Don’t gloat about your camping trips and your 2-hour portages when even the youngest member of your family managed to pitch in.  Don’t post pictures of your hikes or trips to fantastic water parks and other special places that children seem to love.  This kind of show-offy behaviour just makes me feel bad.  Just because I have to take a few anti-anxiety pills and book a babysitter to allow for recovery time just to take our kids to the beach, 20 minutes away, does not mean they are not going to have a magical summer!  It’s just that when I am trying to ignore them and catch up with my peeps on Facebook, they gather around the computer and ask about all of these happy children in fantastic photos and then they want to know why we don’t do super fun things as a family.  It’s hard for them to understand that Mommy and Mama love them but they are truly out of control and therefore we avoid going out in public.  Clearly we hadn’t thought through how hard it would be to have so many children, so close in age!  So really, for the children, if you must have some kind of magical summer, could you just keep it to yourself?  

Alright, I’m glad I got all of this off my chest.  Bring on summer holidays (and the total lack of magical over-the-top experiences)!  

XO Ajike

Hope to avoid THIS next year!!

This Is What It LOOKS Like

Have you seen the blog Illustrated With Crappy Pictures?  It’s written by a mom who shares stories about her life, illustrated with cute pictures.  It’s pretty cool.  After writing my post last week – My Day By The Numbers, I thought I’d try sharing one day in pictures – with remarkably rich commentary, obviously.  So here it is…my day as a stay-at-home mom of five kiddos.

“Good morning Suckers!”  That’s how raccoons refer to us humans with the tasty garbage.  But answer me this, if they have such handy prehensile hands and feet why don’t they be a little tidier when eating?  Dumping the contents of the compost bin all over the walkway is just rude!  

Sometimes your grumpiest, most likely to explode child asks to ride scooters to school.  Sometimes when you are a little bit (actually a lot) afraid of said child, you say yes to avoid any upset.  Sometimes when you have an inconsistent relationship with reality, you agree to escort five children, all on scooters, to the not-so-nearby school.  Sometimes because experience is the greatest teacher, you are smart enough to take a trailer/stroller along to carry backpacks and possible small humans who have grown weary of their scooter.

See?  Experience.  On the way back from school drop-off I had five scooters and 3 children in and on the trailer.  It was totally easy to push.  

You wouldn’t know it from the picture, but eating is mostly what my kids do at the park.  Eating is how they acclimatize to a new setting.  It’s also how they evaluate their setting throughout their stay.  Finally, in preparation for leaving any setting at all, they must enjoy a few final nibbles – strength for the journey of course.  

By the time I indulged in a little selfie action on the way to the school for a 3 pm pick-up, I had been run ragged by my 2 year olds, dealt with Wife’s dead battery (in her car, people!  Sheesh!), driven to and waited at the mechanics and run home to pack up snacks (for crying out loud the bloody snacks) to feed the kids upon their arrival at gymnastics.  A parent can feel a little sluggish after such a day, (which was not anywhere close to being done).  What to do?  Red lipstick and sunglasses obviously.  If my children are going to zap me of all my energy, I am going to look fierce while they’re doing it!

Thank the heavens and Wife’s pay cheque that we have a loving and frighteningly energetic caregiver who is able to do so much that I cannot, including, but not limited to entertaining the children and preparing dinner at the same time.  With me you get one or the other, never both, and as a favour to my family, never dinner.  Anyway, so Tita Liza happily welcomed the girls and I home after gymnastics with dinner ready!  Wahoo!  And even though Liza thinks I’m edging towards totally ridiculous, she helps the kids choose and put on their tomorrow clothes before dinner.  (Pajamas are for regular sized families, without multiples.  We go from today clothes to tomorrow clothes and embrace any wrinkles that come from sleeping in one’s clothes.  This tomorrow clothes business is totally optional for the adults in the family.)

 

Eating one of his favouite meals is hard for Mr. Lee.  Asking for seconds and being given not one but two plates holding the desired spatatoes (sweet potatoes) is really, really hard.  

Given Mr. Lee’s extreme crying, I chose to focus on happier members of the Silverman-Akande crew.  

I’m not saying this is the right answer for everyone.  And I’m not saying that I am proud that this is the right answer for me, but seriously, alcohol – don’t parent after 5 pm without it.  

That’s Z under his cap with the humungous, unbendable brim.  He is our resident bug collector.  He may or may not respond to directions when he is working hard as an entomologist.  This makes me feel both proud and profoundly irritated.  Interestingly, I feel these same emotions when he leaves a jar full of bugs inside the house.  

I am not the only parent in our family who makes decisions based on hope rather than reality.  Wife decided after dinner at 7pm she would do a little gardening and scootering with the kids (and our provincial election candidate Jonah Schein).

Not surprisingly Wife and I divide and conquer at bedtime.  She does The Middles and The Big and I do The Littles.  Wife is a little show-offy about bedtime because she seems to get her kids (except Z) tucked in around the time I manage to get mine to head upstairs.  Please note that while bedtime efficiency is not my strength, I am kinda the best at all other things!

Occasionally my lovelies allow me to choose their bedtime story. When they do, I use the opportunity to select books that promote love, kindness and gratefulness.  We have a basket of “character development” books.  The children rarely independently select books from this basket.  Does this mean that they are making a deliberate effort to not develop a positive character?!?  

I’m really not good at putting the kids to bed.  Is this the face of a child who plans on staying in his bed and going to sleep before 9pm?  No!  No, it is not!  

Eventually Wife took over with Mr. Lee and read with Z so I could go and pick up our reward for surviving another day – burgers!  There is a lot of take-out in our lives.  We think of take-out the same way we think about alcohol.  Please don’t judge us.  

At some point we finished all the prep for the next day and got down to the task of eating and watching Netflix.  I cannot believe that people used to parent without Netflix.  That just wouldn’t work for me.  

So that’s my day illustrated with mediocre pictures I took with my phone.  It has occurred to me that I can be a lot more present with my children when I am not thinking about documenting every moment, but honestly, it’s a teeny bit more fun to be not so much a participant in the crazy, but a documenter of it!  

XO Ajike

Blacks & Jews in Dialogue: Passover Edition

It’s Passover – the Jewish spring festival that “commemorates the emancipation of the Israelites from slavery in ancient Egypt” (www.chabad.org),  and like in years past, I am taking this time to think about what this holiday means for me and my inter-faith, mixed-race family.   Last night, during the first Seder – the ritual service and feast on the first two nights of Passover, Wife asked me what I was going to write about this week.  My response?  “Blacks and Jews in dialogue.”  If you know the story of Passover (Read it here) you can see that its account of the Jews escape from slavery lends quite nicely to connections between the black and Jewish communities. 

I love  Passover.  It’s a holiday, consisting of rituals and symbolism that makes sense to me.  It’s a story that I feel is easy for everyone to connect to and echoes what I believe is ultimately true in this world – we belong to each other.   So after last night’s Seder,  I was inspired to write about Blacks and Jews and our connection. 

Sometimes, however, we think we are writing about one thing and we end up somewhere totally different.  Maybe this only happens to me, I don’t know much about writing!  Anyway, I think what’s really on my mind is what it’s like to raise Jewish children as a non-Jewish mother. 

It is possible that I spent my whole life preparing to be a non-Jewish mother raising Jewish children.  I was born to a black woman with a Yiddish nickname – Zanana Shepherd, aka Shepsyl.  My parents and siblings waited for my arrival and the completion of a home renovation while living with our chosen Jewish family, Auntie Honey and Uncle Roy, my mother’s high school friends.  My first friend ever was my Jewish neighbour who I now refer to as “Life” because, that’s our friendship – for life.  I mumbled along while one of my dear friends sang her Bat Mitzvah portion, because I knew it too.  And when I knew I was about to receive the news that my father was dying, I asked that same friend to take me to her synagogue in the middle of a summer afternoon because I needed to pray and at that time in my life, it made sense to do it there.  I bought Wife her first Menorah for her new house and we gladly jumped from under the Chuppah (Jewish wedding canopy) over the broom at our wedding.   I’ve been in dialogue with Jews forever.  Oh, by the way, Wife thought I should mention all my Jewish ex-boyfriends, but I shot her a stern look and told her that I’m not writing about that kind of dialogue!   

When Wife and I talked about having kids we knew that it was important to each of us that our kids be black and Jewish.  Apparently, Wife has always known that she would raise black children!  (Not funny?  Not even a little?  Okay, sorry!)  We didn’t think that it would be easy to raise trans-racially adopted, bi-racial, Jewish children as two women, but we’re pretty awesome and we assumed that we possess the tools to at least do a mediocre job. 

Please know that I could (and will) write a whole post (or five) about our experience thus far raising black and bi-racial children, but in the interest of space, I’m going to stay on religion. 

So here’s how I thought it would work.  I believe in God.  I believe that there are many paths to God and Judaism is one of those paths.  Perhaps naively, I believed that as long as I could share my belief in God with my children, I would be able to do it within the context of Judaism.  I figured I knew enough about and felt comfortable with the rituals of Judaism and I was determined to learn how to create and maintain a Jewish, God-loving home.  Raising Jewish kids as a non-Jewish mom has gone pretty well so far.  The older children understand that they are Jewish and all of them are familiar with the more regular rituals like lighting candles and saying blessings on Friday nights to welcome Shabbat. 

Regardless of our success so far, I struggle with parenting my Jewish kids.  While I have always participated in Jewish religious traditions, I don’t feel Jewish.  I don’t feel like I am passing on or sharing a piece of my self with my children.  I was raised as a non-religious Christian, but I sang Christian songs at Sunday school and at overnight camp.  I made Christian crafts for holidays and while I celebrated Jewish holidays with friends and chosen family, those celebrations weren’t in my home with my parents as “elders” sharing their traditions.  I feel  Christian.  The God of my childhood is a Christian God. 

Sometimes, being a mother, particularly the at-home mother, trying to maintain a Jewish home feels forced and unnatural.  I find it hard and wonder if it will always be this way.  I don’t want to convert to Judaism and right now it feels too hard to take courses to learn about Judaism and raising Jewish children (I did try a course through Mothers Circle a few years back.), but I do want our home to be a place where we know (and may believe in) God and live Jewish or at least Jewish (Oh come on.  I couldn’t resist!)

What I find pretty cool and what I didn’t expect is that even though Wife was raised culturally and religiously Jewish, she too is just learning to be a Jewish mom.  She is discovering what feels sacred to her from her cultural and religious heritage and what she wants to share with her family.  She is learning from a parent’s perspective about the value of what she has always referred to as boring religious and Hebrew school.  She is buying the beautiful things to set the table for our Seder and beaming when her son reads the Four Questions.  She may be learning her role as a Jewish mother with familiarity and memory deep within her, but like me, she is learning to create a Jewish home for her Jewish children. 

Our big guy cried to come home early from day care today and our middles are out of sorts and full of beans and tears this evening.  I imagine like most young Jewish children today, they are recovering from a late night spent with family and friends at a joyful Seder.  Passover really is a beautiful celebration.  Happy Passover or Chag Sameach .  

XO Ajike 

Our Village

Things have been rough in our teeny tiny corner of the universe.  I could get into a long story about the ways in which things have been a bit hard for the Silverman-Akandes but a) there are a lot of details – some of which are best kept close to the chest for now, and b) sometimes what we learn during our hardest times is such a gift that we almost become grateful for them.  What I will share though is how, through this rough patch, our boat has been steadied as we navigate rough waters.  

We have all heard the proverb “it takes a village to raise a child”.  It is an African proverb.  More specifically, it is a Nigerian  proverb originating from the Yoruba and Igbo tribes.  Let’s just say that my love of this proverb is directly related to my Yoruba heritage.

I used to think that in my big-city community, we believe in the child-rearing village, but we don’t necessarily live that belief on a day-to-day basis.  We’re all struggling and trying so hard to live the best version of the lives we imagined while dealing with the life we’ve been dealt that many of us don’t think that we have much to offer a village.  I realize now, that I may be wrong.  With no concrete plans or agreed upon rules, my basketball team sized gaggle of children are offered the love and energy of a village.  

There are those villagers who we have been formally invited into our lives as caregivers and teachers, who perhaps, with no real intention, become more than what their titles would suggest.  They don’t always act in ways that best echo our beliefs and values but they always act with great love for our children.  They hug them and listen; they remember what they love and what they hate and what they fear.  They laugh with them and at them (but in that “you’re so adorable” kind of way).  They teach them and teach them again and again.  They “clock in” but they never fully “clock out”.  Thank you.  We are grateful for you.  

There are those who live close by and share their yard and their kitchen and their couch.  They run faster than us when one of ours topples over on their bikes darts out in the road, after a runaway ball.  Their children’s grandparents know our little ones by name and remember them coming home.  On Halloween someone gives out candy, and someone pours the wine and someone hangs with the kids.  We never talk about who is doing what or when we’ll change jobs but we all know it’s all taken care of.  Our little ones sing goodnight to them and ask for one more snuggle from them before coming home.  They drop off a bottle of wine or a case of coke and they know exactly which liquid we need and when.   Thank you.  We are grateful for you.  

There are those villagers who are part of our family of origin. Bubby and Zaide, who call on the phone and send cherished postcards and come for special weekend visits to be showered with enough kisses and cuddles to make up for lost time.  There is Nanny who is nearly part of our every day but still gets the run-down-the-hall greeting every time she arrives and the confused look when there’s only time for a short visit.  There are aunties and uncles who are like royalty and somehow are the ones who can always do the things we cannot.  There are aunties and uncles  and cousins who show up every week, even when they’re tired, and love our brood enough to spoil and scold.  Thank you.  We are grateful for you.

 

Our village includes chosen family – old friends and new friends, who love up our kids but love us up too.  We can be honest with them.  We can call our kids assholes and they know that we need a break not to be judged for saying horrible things about our kids.  They know what we sound like when we’re on the other end of the phone but are crying too hard to form words (okay that may be the beauty of call display, but you know what I mean).  They let us brag about our kiddos without feeling guilty.  There are those villagers who when we’re talking about one of our kids and their struggles say, “We’re going to do what we have to do to support her.  She’s our little one.”  With those friends we are never alone.  They hold us up.   Thank you.  We are grateful for you.  

It’s been a lousy couple of weeks for the Silverman-Akandes but it’s totally okay.  Our boat is being steadied.  As I write this I hope that we are good villagers and that I am wrong about thinking that we have nothing to offer the village.  I hope we give you and your littles as much Yoruba style, village love as we receive.  

To our people, to our villagers, I hope you know who you are and I hope you know that we are so, so grateful for you.  

XO Ajike

Taking Care Of My Sickies

As a parent of many, there is no shortage of opportunities for me to pretend I have the skills of a medical practitioner.  The small Silverman-Akandes are very good at getting harsher than necessary, benign health problems.  Miss O and Mr. Lee have, since birth, been especially good at giving us scares.  There have been frequent trips to the emergency room – once by ambulance; there have been IVs – usually for hydration but sometimes medicine;  there have been hospital stays and regular trips to specialists and therapists.  

In the end, the best we can come up with is that these two really love to hang out at the hospital, enjoy all the attention that comes with it and still haven’t gotten over the fact that they came out of me sooner than they wanted and are a little more prone to getting sick because of it.    

Like any parent, I will do anything for my kids and want to ensure that they are healthy beings but there’s only so much excitement and panic I can muster up every time one of them gets sick.  I’ve suggested a frequent visitor points card for the hospital we frequent, where on the 5th visit you get free parking for the duration of your ER stay, but they have not jumped on this idea.   Until they give my frequent visitor card, where possible I want to deal with my kids’ illnesses on my own.

Because I refuse to visit the doctor or get stressed every time my people get sick, I have learned a few tricks.  My friends have been known to call me when their kid has weird symptoms of some kind or another because I’ve seen a lot in my 7 years as a parent, and “oh I was the ER last night” is not an exceptional thing to hear me say.  Sharing is caring so I have compiled a list of 7 things I do when my kids get sick.  

This goes without saying, but this does not replace medical (or valuable) advice. 

1. Start with Vaseline.  When my children tell me they are sore or itchy or rashy or there’s a red spot, or whatever other problem they think they are having on their skin or in their crevices, I put vaseline on it.  (Don’t worry, natural medicine supporters, I use the non-petroleum jelly.)  The way I see it, if vaseline doesn’t make the “problem” go away, then I’ll treat it like an actual problem.  My mother thinks this is irresponsible, but I think it’s genius and she doesn’t live with my people so she doesn’t have a realistic sense of just how much I use this vaseline trick!

2. Trust your instincts about yourself and your children.  Do not always trust your child’s instincts (except when they are bang on, which can happen).  Children make things up and aren’t patient by nature so they don’t give time a chance to heal their wounds.  

3. Always have band-aids.  Do not get into any sort of debate about whether or not a band-aid is required.  If you are willing to have this debate with a child asking for a band-aid, you are not busy enough.  Just give them the damn band-aid and a kiss.

4. If they complain about a tummy ache, first, take them to the bathroom.  I think you know why.  Second, offer them water.   Third, if it is convenient, offer them a hot water bottle, a bucket for potential vomit and space on the couch to lie down.  When I go through these three simple steps, I sometimes solve the tummy ache problem but usually I just make my kid feel like I am taking them seriously.  This is not patronizing.  It is effective.  When I dismiss their complaints, which I am wont to do, they just keep complaining.  They can complain forever.  Besides, what if their tummy ache is a direct result of them thinking that I don’t take them seriously?

Skip the oral temperature taking!

5. If you’re going to take a child’s temperature because you really want an accurate number, do it rectally - even if they are no longer babies.  If they are really, really sick, they won’t have the energy to complain about the rectal temp. taking and then you’ll know for sure that you’re dealing with an actual sick child.

6. Invest in an ear scope thingy.  My kiddos get ear infections all the time but they complain of ear pain even more.  Different things can cause ear pain, not all pain is an infection and some infections do not need to be seen by a doctor.  An ear scope is a good way to save me unnecessary trips to the doctor.  Also checking your children’s ears totally makes you feel like a doctor.  It’s so fun!  

7. Do not over-react when a child falls or crashes into something.  Despite my relaxed attitude about most health related things, I am terrible at this one.  I am the queen of the gasp or embarrassingly loud scream when a kid hits the ground.  I get in trouble from friends for this, but let’s just imagine that an adult fell off their chair or crashed head first into another adult, wouldn’t you ask if they are okay? Ahem; I rest my case.  

Those are my tips.  I probably have a few more, but Miss F who has a tummy ache is currently calling me.  I’m not even making this up in the name of writing!  Luckily she knows the rules; she’s off to the bathroom.  

XO Ajike

My Children's Crappy Stuff Falls Into Four Categories

by Ajike Akande

I am currently struggling with the overwhelming urge to throw out most of my children’s belongings.  It could be that spring is in the air (or it least it should be based on the calendar).  It could be that we have been cooped up inside, existing among their stuff for months now.  It could be that most of the children’s beloved stuff is actually crap!  Their crap falls into three categories.  1) Toys and games that encourage their development (My kids don’t see this stuff as beloved but just stuff they are entitled to.  I’m going to have to address this issue with them).  2) Crap they’ve made and brought home.  Just because you made it during art class, doesn’t make it art.  3) Crap given to them by other children in the form of Valentine’s Day Cards (I hate you St. Valentine) and Loot Bags.  

Regarding crap category number one, it is true that my kids have way too many games and toys but I’m pretty good at removing the things they don’t use and putting the rest in carefully labeled bins.  (I love you label maker!)  

I’m not even going to bother expanding on my issues with crap category number two - my children’s overly glittery “art”, because some of you lovely, kind and hopefully loyal readers are probably artists or art appreciators and I don’t want to deal with your comments about art interpretation and voice and principles of design.  Let’s just say that where much of my children’s art is stored is between me and the recycling bin.  It’s not about the product anyway; it’s about the process.  

Crap category number three, however, is something I’m going to need to discuss.  Please note the following paragraphs may contain harsh opinions.

The other day I almost tossed Miss O’s Valentine Cards.  In my defense, Valentine’s Day happened 26 days ago.  I didn’t do it though.  My little one, with her adorable and sometimes annoying fixations, loves her Valentine’s cards.  They have all the right characteristics for our quirky kid.  A) They are cards.  Cards are the best.  Do not leave any type of card lying around in our house; Miss O will find it and stash it.  B) They are small.  Holy crap small is so, so, good!  C) They were brought home in a bag.  Small cards that can be taken out of a bag, sorted by any number of attributes and returned to the bag?  That’s awesome stuff in O’s world.    With great concern when she heard of my desire to toss the Valentine’s Day cards, Wife said, “They’re her Facebook!   You can’t throw out the cards!”  (I thought this analogy was a little exaggerated – nothing is as good as Facebook, but I see her point.) The Valentine’s Day cards stay.  And because Miss O’s cards stay, everyone’s cards stay.  So on my would-be-pretty display table in the dining room, I have three paper bags full of Valentine’s Day cards.  Damn you beloved stuff!  

If Valentine’s Day cards aren’t bad enough, don’t get me started on loot bags!  For the love of David Suzuki and all things “eco”, we’ve got to stop with the loot bags!  From now on the following note will be pinned to my children when they attend a birthday party:

Dear Adult host of birthday party,

How about I buy your kid a present and say it’s from my kid, and you show your appreciation for the present by NOT giving my kid a bag of junk that I have to sneak out of the house item by item, because they think it’s an actual a bag of prized possessions!  

Love,

A Mom Who HATES Loot Bags

And to children who attend a birthday party for one of my children, the following note will be given:

Dear child guest at my kid’s birthday party,

Thank you for coming.  At the city landfill there is a bag of crap with a cute tag with your name on it.  In it is a bunch of stuff that I got at the dollar store to give you and the other kids “from” my kid to show our appreciation for your attendance at their birthday party.  I know your parents are busy; I also know your propensity to become unreasonably attached to crap you get or find so I’ve decided to save your parents the time and you, the pain and just took the bag of dollar store crap directly to the landfill where it will ultimately end up anyway.  

Love,

A Mom who HATES Loot Bags

P.S Eat all the sugary junk food that you want; you’re going home to someone else soon!

Look, I’m not a minimalist.  I like stuff as much as the next person, but kids really need to be reigned in.  They need to be taught to identify stuff worth actually keeping and perhaps more importantly, how to organize and maybe even hide their stuff so that I don’t have to look at it all the time!  

Rant over.  Carry on.  

XO Ajike

Tomorrow Clothes

As a parent of five little kids, other parents often say to me, “I don’t know how you do it.”  First, could someone please tell me the appropriate way to respond to this comment.  I know “on psychiatric drugs,” is not the best response so I usually say, ““Ohhh, come on.  I do it the same way you do.  Kids have a remarkable way of taking up any physical and psychic space available, so we’re all swimming upstream totally exhausted and blessed.” While my closest friends and family have heard a slightly more honest response to this comment, this is verbatim what I say to people.  Until now. 

What is the point of having a unique, large family, if I cannot share the wisdom borne of my experiences as a parent?  And so I will share some of the ways that I “do it”:

I was never a girl scout, but I am a firm believer in the adage “Always be prepared.”  The lengths that we go to, to prepare for one day of our life is quite something.  During the school/work week we do everything the night before.  We make lunches and coffee and our smoothies.  I know, this is nothing special.  We also pour everyone’s cereal including a smaller bowl which holds “seconds” should anyone require them.  If I’m feeling especially panicky about the morning to come, I will place each child’s bowl at the their spot at the table along with a spoon.  Back when Z rode in the bike trailer to get to school in the winter, I would hang his snow pants on the back of his chair so that he could put them on before sitting down to breakfast.  He didn’t like this.  I think he may have cried once.  Wife told me it was excessive, but time is everything and there is no time to waste in the morning.  Besides this was nothing compared to my mother’s response to me being a slow mover.  When I was in kindergarten, in an effort to improve the speed at which I dressed for the outdoors, my mother borrowed a stop watch from the gym teacher and spent a weekend doing snowsuit dressing drills.  Now that is excessive! 

In addition to the preparation of the children’s breakfasts, we also lay out all of their outdoor clothes (jacket, hat, mitts, scarf) on the living room floor, which we now refer to as the staging area. Z just throws his jacket and stuff on the floor as soon as he comes in the house, in an effort to “help” with the night time set-up.  Unfortunately, because I’m crazy, I insist that the children hang up their belongings with their hats etc. in their coat sleeves so that I can have the satisfaction of removing everything from their hooks and laying it out on the floor myself after they go to bed.  Inefficiency at its best. 

Certain that we were not prepared enough for the morning, I recently made another modification to our night time routine.  On the odd occasion, over the past few years, we have put the kids to bed in their “tomorrow clothes”.  It was fun and cute and always because something special was going to take place the next morning.  It occurred to me that “tomorrow clothes” don’t have to be just for special occasions, they can be the norm.  From Sunday to Thursday, our children now go to sleep in their “tomorrow clothes”.  Of course there are always the minute details of a plan that need to be worked out.  You see our children bathe and get ready for bed before supper.  Before you start thinking that eating in our house totally hinges on being prepared for the activity following the meal or that meals are rewards for completing undesirable tasks like bathing and getting ready for bed or school, let me explain the very good reason why bed prep is done before dinner. 

Our kids love bath time and get unbelievably excited about all being naked together.  It occurred to us that putting the kids to sleep would be easier if they didn’t have to come down from the high of bath time, so we moved it to earlier in the evening.  Once we decided to get rid of pajamas, the kids simply put on their “tomorrow clothes” after bath.  BUT nobody wants to go to school in “tomorrow clothes” with stains from last night’s dinner, so I decided that the kids would wear their “tomorrow bottoms” and a bathrobe to dinner.  We call them dinner jackets.  

After supper we go upstairs, brush teeth, put on “tomorrow shirts” and hunker down for bedtime stories.  Obviously the Littles want in on this “tomorrow clothes” business but they still wear diapers at night so they need to be changed in the morning anyway.  No problem. We put on a diaper with “tomorrow underwear” on top so in the morning F & L can pull down their pants, half way, pull off their diaper and pull up their dry “tomorrow (now today) underwear”!  Bam!    

And that, my friends, is how it is done!  It’s true about all parents swimming upstream, but some of us have a larger school of fish to lead so we need some, outside of the box, strategies.  There are more, equally amusing, ways that we “do it”, but I don’t want to overwhelm you.  How do YOU “do it”?  Let me know in the comments. 

XO Ajike