Why are Toddlers Such a Bunch of Nudists?

Nearly a year ago, the Wall Street Journal ran an article about how nudist colonies are on the decline as their typically baby boomer generation clients are aging. They need young blood to fill those old shoes (if they wear shoes, not sure about that to be honest). The article talks about how they're targeting the college-age set. While I applaud their efforts, I can't help but think they're still aiming too old. In my opinion, they should be targeting the preschool-age set.

If my kids are any indicator, those nudist colonies would be full-up in no time. Here in the Pacific Northwest, the calendar says March, the temperatures say January, but my kids' attire says mid-July. They start their day in warm, footie pajamas, but they increasingly strip it down over the course of the day. First, I wrangle them into long-sleeve shirts and pants. Then, they sneak a minute in their closet and are transformed into shorts and t-shirts, soon to be replaced by shorts and tank tops. Then, just shorts. Then, just their undies and diapies. More often than not, this is the state of undress my husband finds them in when he gets home from work. "It's cold outside! Go put some clothes on!" he says. I just shake my head, as I've given up that particular battle.

On the one hand, I get it. Their little bodies are super-cute. If I had such adorable little legs and could legitimately call my belly cute, rather than frightening, I'd probably want to flaunt it, too. But, on the other hand, it baffles me. Their little bodies are well, little. With no blubber blanket on their bones to keep them warm, aren't they freezing? Oh well, it won't be the first bit of toddler-logic to escape me.

But, since having read that article, I can't help but think it would be kind of refreshing to vacation at a nudist colony where I could just let my kids roam free in their state of wild. A week without battles over getting them dressed? Hoorah! Hmm, except then I'd be expected to go au natural as well... Maybe they're right to target 20-something's instead.

The REAL March Madness

It's that time of year again -- college basketball fans are doing things with brackets (not entirely sure what, to be honest) and I'm losing my mind. February and March are the worst months to live in the Pacific Northwest. It's the time of year where you can't even remember what warmth and sunshine feel like. It's the time of year when the gray drizzle outside just make you want to put on your gray sweats, flop on the couch and do nothing (as I'm wearing and doing now). And this is from a native.

And, now that I'm a mom, it's the time of year where I feel like I'll go insane if I have to play one more game of indoor hide-and-go seek. Honestly, there are only so many places one can hide in a house... To top it off, my daughter's been sick for the past week, so we've been housebound. No preschool, no Little Gym, no St. Patrick's Day party at a friend's house. Nope, just us, a few puzzles, board games, books and TV. If the weather wasn't depressing enough, too many episodes of Dora the Explorer have definitely done the trick. (Does anyone else wonder if she's the reason behind the increase in anti-immigration sentiment in this country? Hearing her inanely prattle on about big, gooey geysers makes me wonder if a big fence isn't such a bad idea, after all.) In an effort to break up the monotony, my kids have begun finding new and inventive ways to be naughty. I can't entirely blame them, a lack of vitamin D will do that to a person, but it's making this long slog longer and sloggier for me. Is anyone else going through this as well?

P.S. Gene Kelly - You can sing about it and dance in it all you like, I'm done with the rain.

Canadians: Not all Loonies - They Have a Great Idea with Toonie Parties

Last week, I was talking about my desperate move to deal with the toy clutter. In response, a friend of mine, who lives in Canada, shared the greatest idea, which I now want to shout from the rooftops -- or at least from our little blog.

First: A super-quick primer on Canadian currency. In Canada, they have $1 coins nicknamed Loonies and $2 coins, nicknamed Toonies.

Okay, back to the Greatest Idea... She said that Toonie Parties are really popular in Canada. The premise is that, in lieu of a gift, guests bring the birthday child a Toonie coin. The birthday kid then donates $1 of that coin to a charity and uses the other $1 to buy themselves a special gift. So, if 20 kids come to a party, the birthday kid gets $40 - $20 for charity and $20 for one, new present.

Instilling a sense of gratitude and appreciation in my kids has been on my mind a lot over the past several months, and I think this approach to parties is a great step in doing that.

I've heard of kids asking for donations to charity instead of gifts for their birthdays, that's nothing new. But, this spin is new (at least to me). The kid still gets the excitement of a new present on their birthday, which, let's be honest is a pretty big deal. I actually think that when you get fewer gifts, they have more value. Sometimes, the sheer quantity of toys and presents kids get can make all of them seem less special. Yes, there's a certain thrill, having a huge stack of gifts to plow through, but that quickly fades.

The other great thing about this approach is that it reminds kids to think of those less fortunate than themselves. We have a local charity for babies and kids near us, so I think that, at first, we'll give the birthday donations to that charity. That way, my kids (2 and 4 years old) can physically go in there and hand over some cash to someone in person. This will make it more tangible and meaningful to them. At their age, plugging a donation into a website won't mean anything. But, doing it in person will help give them a better sense of understanding.

The last wonderful aspect of this party concept is for the guests. Think about the stress it reduces. Rather than having to run to Target, find a toy, hope the kid doesn't have it already, run home, wrap it, find a card to go with it, etc., they get to pull $2 out of their wallet and call it a day. Most moms I know run themselves ragged with all of their commitments, anything we can do to simplify things for each other is A-OK in my book. Plus, it saves guests money. I'd say that people usually spend about $15 on birthday presents. When you're in the midst of birthday party season, this can start to add up, quickly.

Now, the only question I have is what to call these parties. Since we don't have Toonies here in America, will the Toonie Party name resonate?

The End of Toys as We Know It

Once upon a time, these toy bins were full. Overflowing, in fact. Then, last Friday happened.

Let me back up. Over the years, I've struggled with toy organization. And I mean struggled. At first, I had all of my kids' toys divided into four large, plastic tubs. I'd rotate these out once a week. Therefore, each week they'd get a supply of toys they hadn't seen in a month. The thought was that I'd cut down on clutter and the toys would maintain more appeal because my kids hadn't seen them in awhile. But, because the tubs were so large, my kids had a hard time getting the stuff out of them and everything wound up on a big pile on the floor.

An uber-organized friend suggested that more, smaller bins might be easier for the kids. So, I moved to that method. We had shelves installed in our family room and I filled them with bins of toys. At first, I tried to organize them by types of toys. Balls in one bin, Barbies in another. Total disaster and everything wound up on a big pile on the floor.

Then, I gave up on the organization and said any toy, any bin. But, now four, my daughter would get frustrated, trying to find a particular toy, and wind up dumping out all of the bins until she found the toy she wanted. Total disaster and everything wound up on a big pile on the floor.

So, I thought maybe they were ready for the organized bins once again. I downloaded pictures of Disney princesses and Strawberry Shortcakes. Toy Story characters and Hot Wheels. These were all printed out onto labels and stuck onto bins. Now, the kids (who can't yet read) could easily look at the pictures on the outside of each bin and know what was in there.

The plan was that they could make as big of a mess as they wanted during the day, but they had to clean up before bed. Now, I'm realistic about the capabilities of my children. They're young and I don't expect them to manage a massive clean-up project on their own. So, I'd line all of the bins up on the couch, labels facing outwards, and get down on the floor with my kids. I'd hand them a toy, saying "Here's Ariel, she goes in the princess bin. Here's Buzz, he goes in Toy Story..." It worked for a little while, but then, even with that level of assistance, they just started refusing to participate. So, our house generally continued looking as though it had been ransacked by a group of particularly destructive thieves.

Then, last Friday happened. My kids flat-out refused to help pick up their toys. I told them that I knew they had too many and I was going to get rid of some of the toys they no longer played with. I filled up a couple of garbage bags. They even helped put things in the bags. Then, I told them that it was their turn to put away their toys. I gave up on organized bins and said, once again, any toy, any bin. They ignored me completely. I warned them that in 10 minutes, I'd be coming through with another garbage bag and hauling away anything they didn't pick up. They ignored me completely. 10 minutes went by and I calmly got said garbage bag and started loading it up. They ignored me completely. I didn't yell, I didn't lose my cool, but I pointed out that because they weren't helping, they were losing their toys. Favorite fire trucks and precious princesses went into the bags. Toodles, Thomas the Tank Engine. Adios, Ariel. They each "rescued" about two toys each, then wandered off into another room to play.

My husband and I agreed that, if they helped pick up at the end of each day, they could start to earn their toys back. A few toys returned each day that they helped tidy. I thought that after a day of being without their toys, they'd be so sad and so motivated. But, here's the thing, it's been three and a half days, and they haven't asked for a single toy back. Today, my son glimpsed a fire truck and asked for it. I told him he could have it back this evening if he helped clean up his toys. He agreed and hasn't mentioned it again since.

I thought they'd be devastated by having their cache of toys decimated. On the contrary, they're quite happy and busy playing school and various other games of pretend. Clearly, the two bags of toys I bagged up to give away wasn't enough. My kids were bogged down by the toys. Rather than providing them hours of enjoyment, they were almost trapping them. They tripped over them, littering our floors and causing lots of fights and stress over their clean-up.

We'll let them earn a lot of them back (if they even want them, that is), but it will take some work to decide which toys return and which ones go. I often feel like the wonderful, higher-end, "classic" toys I buy, sure to stimulate their brains, end up being ignored for some bizarre piece of cheap plastic crap.

I also wonder how I'll handle birthday parties going forward. I fear that the kids will feel sad if we begin instituting a "no presents" policy, but it's also clear to me that my kids don't need to receive toys from every friend and family member at their party.

Fair and Balanced... Parenting.

Even Steven. When you have more than one kid, this automatically becomes something you start thinking about -- a lot. Last fall a book came out that has needled me ever since. I admit, I haven't read it, but this quote by the author has stuck with me, "I like to say that 99 percent of all parents do have a favorite child and the other one percent are lying through their teeth."

After reading that I began looking at my kids, asking myself, "Are you really my favorite child and I just didn't know it until now?" Did I have a favorite but didn't know it? Oh, you just peed on my floor, maybe your sister's my favorite. Oh, you're pitching a fit for no apparent reason, maybe your brother's my favorite... After a rather unhealthy amount of reflection, I can honestly say I don't have a favorite child. But, what if my kids think otherwise?

I try to keep things fair between them. I try to play with them both in equal amounts, and as a result, sometimes I feel like I have a tally chart in my head. 30 minutes reading books to child #2, while child #1 played on her own. 1 hour taking child #1 to a preschool field trip while child #2 suffered it out at drop-off daycare... I often worry that I'm being unfair to one of them or that one of them will grow up thinking I favored their sibling.

My daughter started preschool this fall and the transition was easy on her but very tough on my son, who at two, felt left behind. To make it up to him, I signed him up for Mommy & Me classes at the Little Gym. He adores it and it's a wonderful time just the two of us. But, I know that my daughter sometimes feels left out and wishes she got to go, too. My daughter takes ballet classes at our local, community center. While she's there, I take my little guy downstairs to toddler time. She gets the fun class, but he gets me... My daughter's preschool is doing an outing to see a play in a couple of weeks. It falls right during naptime, so even though it's something I could take little guy to, I'm leaving him at home with my husband, while my daughter and I are ladies who enjoy the arts (in a school auditorium where the artists are elementary school kids, but, hey).

For a while this Fall, when my son was having a hard time feeling left out, I flat out refused to do outings with just one kid. Aside from school, we were a family package. Where one went, we all went. Now that he's handling things better, I'm relaxing that policy a bit, but I still prefer an all-or-nothing approach whenever possible. If we're all together, no one's left out. Next fall, I'll be the mother of two preschoolers and that will become a bit more difficult. But, maybe it'll be easier to fairly divvy up the one-on-one time with each of them.

I guess, I can just hope that by merely being aware of this possible phenomenon, I'll be doing my best to mitigate it and hopefully each of them will grow up and say their mom didn't have a favorite. Or, at the worst, they'll both grow up believing they were my favorite...

The Etiquette of Allergies

On Tuesday, I hosted a Valentine's Day party for my daughter's preschool class (a house full of three and four-year olds, my how the romantic holidays change once you have kids...). As I set out the bowl of Valentine's Day Chex Mix that I'd found on Pinterest, it dawned on me that it contained peanut butter. Crap! There would undoubtedly be at least one kid there with a peanut allergy. While I'd been busy congratulating myself on serving a gluten-free snack, I'd totally spaced on the fact that it had peanuts in it. I grabbed a heart-shaped doily and scratched out a note to set in front of the dish, declaring it to be gluten-free, but laden with peanuts. (Here's a picture of my epi-pen-inducing spread)

Growing up, I don't remember anybody having food allergies. Our moms had it so easy. Ants on a log? No problem. Pizza for the class? Sure. Now, you can't swing a Tickle Me Elmo doll without hitting a lactose intolerant, nut allergic toddler. I feel extremely fortunate that neither of my kids has food allergies and I sympathize with the moms whose kids do. It must be a constant source of stress, worrying about what they could be served or handed at any gathering.

I'm fairly new to this game of hosting kids I don't know that well at my house. Prior birthday parties and events had always included my friends' kids. I already knew any allergies and sensitivities they might have had and knew their moms well enough to discuss it with them ahead of time. When you don't know the kids or their parents as well, it's harder to know how to handle it.

For this party, I was all excited to use the new Cake Pop pan I'd gotten for Christmas. Once I snipped the nips off those bad boys, they'd be a really cute toddler treat. However, after making about five dozen of them, I remembered that one of the girls in the class had a gluten sensitivity. I felt terrible, she wouldn't be able to eat them and I hate making kids feel left out. But, I was in it too deep to turn back (although I probably should have stopped then, as I have two dozen cake pops left over from the party). So, I added Pirate's Booty and the before-mentioned Chex Mix to the menu, to ensure she had some things she could eat.

If you're hosting a gathering, you want all of the kids to feel welcome and at ease, but sometimes it's hard to predict what might be a problem. Also, depending on the severity of the allergy, even your best efforts might be in vain -- that granola bar might not have peanuts, but maybe it was made in a factory that processes peanuts. I've also learned that not all gluten-free foods are the same. So, you might try and get something that will accommodate everyone, but maybe it's not as good as you thought it was.

So, here's my question -- What is the etiquette involved when serving meals (or party snacks) to kids? This is an etiquette question that is unique and new to our generation. Have we decided the right way to handle it yet? Generally, I'd avoid anything containing peanuts (except when I forget...). But, what about the other allergies and sensitivities? Do parents of allergic kids expect to pack a separate snack? I have one friend who will often call ahead and find out what they're serving so she can bring alternate food for her daughter. Should a party host just label anything that's likely to cause a problem? Should she send out an email to the group ahead of time, informing people what's on the menu? Should she ask in the invite if anyone has any allergies? How does everyone else handle this?

It's Time We Showed the Epidural a Little Love

Last week when I read about the woman from Iowa who gave birth vaginally, without drugs, to a 13 lb baby! I just wanted to stick an ice pack between my legs. Then, I just wanted to ask her why. I get the whole "natural" birth movement -- kinda. But deep down, I don't find anything at all natural about all of that pain -- not when there are anesthesiologists in this world.

When I had my daughter, the nurse told me I wasn't dilated enough yet and that I should take a walk around the hospital. I wanted to tell her to take a hike. I don't care that I was only 3 cm, I was in ridiculous amounts of pain. We're talking throwing up, can't even talk, kind of pain (and, from a kid whose nickname was chatterbox, it's saying a lot if I can't talk). Then, I got my epidural...

People love to be down on the epidural, saying it's "not natural." Well, I'll tell you what's not natural -- enduring massive amounts of pain when good drugs are available and covered by insurance. I'm not afraid to say it (well, just a little afraid). I loved me my epidurals.

After that epidural kicked in, I went from agony to bliss. Somewhere down the hall, another mom made a different decision. We could hear her screaming and the nurses got worried that, as a first-time mom, I'd be terrified by what I was hearing and offered to shut some more doors to block out the noise. No bother I told them, I'm feeling quite smug about my choice to go for the drugs right about now. Those drugs took the pain away and allowed me to be present and to relax and enjoy the process of giving birth. I shudder to think what that experience would have been like without it.

That was my first baby. When I showed up at the hospital, I had a bag packed with about 20 pairs of socks, enough snacks to feed us for a week, a colorful pillowcase on my pillow (so it won't get confused with the hospital's pillows -- as if...), and a well-thought out birth plan.

When I went into the hospital with baby number two, I had a much-lighter bag and a much simpler birth plan. In red, bold, 72-point font, it read, "EPIDURAL." That was the sole extent of my birth plan. I knew from experience that was all I'd need for a happy, pain-free delivery. After the nurse remarked on the size of my son's head (hello 97th percentile!!), I felt extremely grateful that I'd made the decision I had. For me, I'm glad I was able to welcome my babies into this world with a smile on my face, rather than a grimace of pain.