I’ve never had an identifiable eating disorder, although I’ve wished for one on many occasion. I even considered just how much weight I could lose if I did, wondering if you can catch an eating disorder from watching too much Project Runway or the new 90210 as I took another bite of Chunky Monkey.  If I’m lucky enough to catch a stomach virus that my kids have brought home from school, my first thought is not “I hope I get over this soon,” it is “I wonder how much weight I can lose from getting sick?”

Houston, we have a problem.

My story is typical.  I am not unlike most of the female population in that I don’t know if I’ll ever feel comfortable in my skin.  The only moments when I praise my size are in retrospect, when I look at my image in photographs that are many years old and I wonder why it was that I thought I was so horribly overweight?  I know this about myself and that is why I so desperately want to avoid passing this on to my children, especially my daughter.

Seattle-area girls are not immune to the national epidemic of not loving their bodies either.  According to  “Real Girls, Real Pressure:  A National Report on the State of Self-Esteem:”

• Two thirds of girls (67%) in Seattle believe they are not good enough or do not measure up in some way, including their looks, performance in school and relationships with friends and family members
• 62% of teen girls in Seattle reported engaging in negative activities, such as disordered eating, cutting, bullying,smoking, or drinking, when feeling badly about themselves
• The self-esteem tipping point happens during the transition to teenage years, resulting in loss of trust and communication with adults
• Parents’ words and actions play a pivotal role in fostering positive self-esteem in girls:  The top wish among girls in Seattle is for their parents to communicate better with them, which includes more frequent and more open conversations, as well as discussions about what is happening in their own lives.

There you have it.  Now, what do we do about it?  For the past several years, I’ve seen the commercials, I’ve seen the ads in magazines, and read about the amazing, empowering and important work of the Dove Self-Esteem Project and The Campaign for Real Beauty.  Thankfully, this group has been gaining momentum, doing outreach for girls all over the country and conducting self-esteem workshops for women nation wide (there is one coming up December 16th, in Seattle, click here for a link to more details).

They’ve released yet another eye-opening video about the state of our girls - remember the one about beauty?  Take a peek by clicking HERE - it will take you to the videos.  There are four, including the one where the model morphs from a regular woman into a print ad.  Please watch the video titled “Onslaught.”

We can’t control the media, even though we can influence it if we try hard enough.  We can control how we communicate with our daughters.  We can be better role models and show them how to love themselves, their bodies, no matter what their size.  We can encourage them to be healthy, strong and beautiful all at the same time.  Educating ourselves, attending workshops, and communicating, with the help of companies like Dove, I really believe our daughters will be in a much better place than we ever were.

Carrie can be found most days at Stop Screaming I’m Driving where she chronicles her life as mother to three active children, wife of one busy fire fighter, constant doer of laundry, and picker upper of Legos.  She takes offers of free babysitting and bribes of lattes (vanilla, extra foam) very seriously.  Feel free to reach her at carrieb[at]seattlemomblogs[dot]com.

Head on over to Stop Screaming I’m Driving to enter for a chance to win Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters:  How the Quest for Perfection is Harming Young Women, by Courtney E. Martin.

 

 

* cross - posted at Stop Screaming I’m Driving 

Every morning it is the same old routine around here.  I get up way earlier than I’d really like to, make the excruciating decision between getting my caffeine fix from half a pot of coffee or go the quicker route of grabbing an icy cold Diet Coke from the fridge, and get on with the business of packing lunches for my school-bound children.

Once I read about a mother who organizes her pantry with special bins, each containing a type of food to put in a child’s lunchbox.  I am not that mother.

First, my pantry is much too small for over-sized totes filled only with enough snacky items for a week’s worth of lunches and even if it were – I think I could come up with about a thousand other items (cough, Pepperidge Farm Cookies, cough, cough) to fill my shelves.  Second, I am just not that organized.  Did I mention that I have a small pantry?

Instead, I look in the general area (and I use the term “area” loosely, as sometimes the “areas” of my non-organized pantry blend into one another, making them completely indistinguishable from each other) of the carbohydrate section and decide on a bread with which to make the sandwiches for the day.  White or wheat?  White or wheat?  These are tough decisions.

Then, I rest for a minute and drink my caffeine.

After I am a little more alert, I check the deli drawer for fresh meat and decide whether today will be a turkey and havarti day or a peanut butter and jelly day.  You just never know in my house.  When the sandwiches are made, it is time to check the fruit situation (and no, fruit snacks – even the really, really good ones, don’t count).

This could go one of two ways.  Either a fresh fruit item, like a banana or cut up apple, will make its way to the lunchboxes or something resembling real fruit, like a fruit cup, will be the choice of the day.  I know, it is a highly complex form of decision making that only the inside of my head can determine and is greatly influenced by how quickly that aforementioned caffeine has made its way into my bloodstream.

On to the “extras” part of the lunch building task – and this is even more complex, don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Granola bars, fruit leathers, crackers, popcorn, nuts, pretzels . . . how does one choose?   I like to close my eyes and grab the first two items that my hand lands on.

I told you it was complex.

After adding a dairy item, like yogurt or a string cheese, the lunches are almost complete. . .

Drinks!

I forgot drinks!  I race down to the refrigerator in the garage, where we keep all the beverages.  I make yet another difficult choice between water, apple juice or the sports drink du jour – in today’s case, Gatorade, which is an excellent choice as long as my sons do not suck their entire mouths into the spout while drinking it thus giving themselves a semi-permanent blue stain around their lips for the remainder of the school day.  This is especially fun when it is picture day.

Add a napkin, a cold pack and zip it up.  Voila!  Lunch is done, and it only took me 10 minutes!  10 minutes that I could have spent sleeping, but there are no lengths to a mother’s love and the need to pack a nutritious lunch for her offspring, each and every day.

Now, let’s just hope they eat what I packed and do not trade their entire lunch for one Ding Dong.

What are your time saving tips for packing lunches for school-aged children?  Do you have a system, or do you just wing it like I do?  I’d love to hear your strategy!  And if you’re the mother with the bins, I don’t even want to hear about it, okay?   (said with a smile because secretly I’m totally jealous of those bins)

Carrie can be found hanging out at her personal blog Stop Screaming I’m Driving! where she is kept busy wrangling three kids, one goofy Aussie, and her very own firefighter. She can be bribed with lattes and offers to do her laundry. Please send column suggestions to carrieb at seattle mom blogs dot com.

“Mom, mom, I really want a cell phone!”

 ”But you don’t even talk on the regular phone, why do you need a cell phone?”

 ”I just do . . . everyone has a cell phone.”

 ”Well, we’re not everyone.”

If I had a nickel for every time I’ve had this conversation with my 11 year-old son, well, you know how rich I would be.

It’s not that I don’t understand his want to have a beloved cell phone, one he can hang from his backpack and download the coolest games onto. A phone he can text his friends with on his way to school, one he can customize with his very own ring tone.

But are these reasons to give a kid a cell phone?

Until now, we have been strictly anti-cell phone for kids in our family.  I, myself, really try to only use my cell phone when it is absolutely necessary.  Although I occasionally break that rule, my friends can attest to the fact that I hardly even answer the thing.  But this isn’t about me.

With the recent additions of middle school and more responsibility for our children, my husband and I have decided that the time has come to get the kids a cell phone.

Gasp!

A cell phone. For our kids? Are we crazy? Now, hear me out. We call this cell phone the “family phone.” And it is just that. it does not belong to either of the boys and it certainly does not belong to our 4 year-old daughter (she does just fine with her sparkly Cinderella phone, the one that she can call her fairy godmother on). We added a third line to our existing 2-phone plan and picked out it’s color together (blue). Don’t ask me what the number is for it, because I have no idea.

The plan for this phone is not for our children to rack up hundreds of dollars in text messaging each month or to chit chat with their friends. They are more than welcome to send their friends an email or use the antiquated land line if they so wish. The plan is not for them to bring the phone to school, I think phones are way to distracting in an educational environment and unnecessary - as there are plenty of phones on school grounds and responsible adults to help in an event warranting a call home. The plan is for this phone to be available to them when they need it. Keyword: need.

When our oldest wants to meet his friends at the park, I feel more comfortable sending him if he has a phone. If the boys want to ride their bikes to the store, they take the family phone. If, for any reason, I would need to leave them at soccer practice or taekwondo, or they want to go somewhere with a friend whose parents don’t have a cell phone, they could take the blue family phone.

I know that a cell phone is not a replacement for a parent, believe me, I know. But our older children are old enough to be able to handle the responsibility, along with the freedom, that the phone provides. When I was their age, I was allowed to explore our neighborhood with my friends, answering only to the call of my mother’s whistle when it was time to come home. I want the same for my kids, and I think in this day and age letting them bring a cell phone along is the only way I will feel comfortable sending them out into the big bad world.

Setting guidelines and knowing your child are important in determining if they are ready for a cell phone. Making sure they follow the rules and appropriately use the phone are also important and we’ve only just begun on our journey.

I’m curious, what have others done when it comes to kids and cell phones? At what ages did you allow your children to have one, or share one, or have you decided to not allow them at all? Do the news reports regarding the safety of cell phones on developing minds have any bearing on your decision?

Tell me, what do you think?

Carrie can be found hanging out at her personal blog Stop Screaming I’m Driving!  where she is kept busy wrangling three kids, one goofy Aussie, and her very own firefighter.  She can be bribed with lattes and offers to do her laundry.  Please send column suggestions to carrieb at seattle mom blogs dot com.

Way back when my kids started doing regular chores (let’s say, around the ages of 5 and 6 for the boys), I figured it was high time to offer them up some kind of incentive for their help around the house.  Even though their “help,” more times than not, involved me re-doing the tasks they were asked to complete when they weren’t looking (wouldn’t want to damage their fragile egos, you know).

I remember thinking about what would be the perfect amount to compensate and finally, my husband and I agreed that $1.00 a week was enough, considering their ages and all. 

Here’s the thing about allowances, they only work if you actually remember to give the incentive you have promised.  I must’ve missed that in my “Allowances for Kids” seminar.  A’hem.

Anyway, a few years passed and the allowance subject came up again, this time during a paticularly difficult period of non-chore doing and downright messiness with the boys.  I had made chore charts.  I had reminders plastered all over the house.  I was driving myself crazy trying to find ways to get them to make their beds and put their dirty clothes in the hamper each morning, let alone brush their own teeth.

Come on.  Brushing one’s teeth should be as natural as breathing . . . not a chore.  Oh, the joys of boys!

So I was willing to give this whole allowance thing a run, yet again, in the hopes of getting a little more chore action from them.  Again, after a few weeks, we all forgot.  But I still made them brush their teeth.

Fast forward to last month.  My boys are now 9 and 11 years old and I decided that since they’ve been fairly successful in completing at least a few basic tasks every day (like making beds, picking up clothes, feeding the dog and yes! occasionally brushing their teeth and breathing all on their own) it was again time to discuss (cough, cough) allowances.

But how much to offer them?  True, when I asked them to unload and load the dishwasher the other day they both looked at me and said, “How do we do that?”

I am cowering in shame here people, how is it that they don’t know how to do this?  How have I managed in eleven years of parenting to overlook providing them with this most important life skill, that of being able to unload and load a dishwasher properly?

No worries, they’ve got it down pat now.  But still, the conundrum remains.  How much to you pay out in allowances each week?  Or should it be a monthly payment?  Payment plan?  PayPal?  What?

Carrie Blankenship is the mother of three (four, if you count her goofy puppy). She writes her way through motherhood at Stop Screaming I’m Driving! She accepts bribes of lattes (especially Starbucks) and offers of free babysitting. If you’re really lucky, she may even do your laundry. She can be contacted at carrieb-at-seattlemomblogs-dot-com.

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Then Stephanie wrote about it here and I thought again, okay, obviously this is not going away - but it hasn’t really creeped into my coffee-getting ways yet, so hey - maybe this isn’t something I really care about.

Then I heard this out of my daughter’s mouth while driving past a local “sexpresso” stand the other day:  Hey mom!  Look, that girl is in her underwear.  Why is she in her underwear?

Fabulous.  That bubble I had been hoping to raise my daughter in has apparently sprung a leak.

And it was then that I knew that my war with the bikini baristas had just begun.

A little back story here, I used to be a barista.  What does this mean?  It means that I was Tully’s trained and can whip up a mean pot of coffee and a shot of espresso with the perfect amount of crema on top.  I find great value in the perfecting of foam and the mixology involved with creating a unique flavor.  I also know that there is a fair amount of skill involved in doing these things and to me, I really don’t care if you look like Cindy Crawford or John Belushi, if you can make a mean latte or a dry cappuccino, I’m yours.

That being said, there is little emphasis on quality in many of the drive-by espresso stands that litter the sides of our roads.  Sure there are some who actually care about the beverages they are handing over to their customers for the price of a weeks worth of groceries, but many do not.  If I want a good caffeine fix, I know exactly where to go to get it and I am fully aware that I am taking my chances pulling up to one of the roadside stands.

But the chance of bad coffee, not a peep show, is all I want to be concerned about.

Some compare the scantily-clad baristas to girls on the beach.  Okay, fine.  But seriously, tell me you wouldn’t you be just a little bit uncomfortable pulling up and ordering a mocha from a sixteen-year-old wearing less fabric than your own undergarments?  And what if you have kids in the car?  Double ick, in my opinion.

Some say, this is no big deal in Europe - that we all need to loosen up a bit and not be so offended by the display of the human body.  Well, I got news for you folk, I love and appreciate the human body just as much as the next person, but hello - this is not Europe (although, that would be nice, wouldn’t it?).  Our culture is not one of “hey, it’s just a body - get over yourself.”  It is one of “hey it’s a body, let’s sexualize it as much as we can and make as much money off it as we can.”  As much as I wish it were different, we live in America, land of the free, home of the boobies (real and artificial). That, is where my problem lies.

I want to teach my children that their bodies are beautiful, that all bodies are beautiful and should be treated with respect and admiration for all of their perfections and imperfections.  But our society does not see it that way, which makes it a very hard uphill battle for those who want otherwise.

How do we teach our daughters and our sons that women aren’t sexual objects when they are slapped in our face that way every chance they get?

Of course, there is the whole “freedom” and “constitutional right” angle to the argument as well, and I respect that wholeheartedly.  But I can’t honestly sit here and say that I would be supportive of a coffee stand in my town that chose to go down that path, even if the barista made the greatest macchiato this side of Italy. 

I can’t do that because of what it teaches my daughter and my sons.  I can’t do that because although I feel everyone has a right to express themselves in any way they wish - our culture is just not there yet, even though we wish it were.

Therein lies the struggle. How do we support freedom and individuality at the same time teaching our children the morals and values and self respect that we so want them to have?  How do we teach them to stand up for what they believe while not supporting the freedom of expression (if that is what it really is) of others?

Most of all, why does it have to be so hard?  I read all of the time of the struggles people had to go through for social, political and environmental change and I wonder, is this one of those things we have to overcome?  Is this just another roadblock on our way to a society that loves women for being women, not for being what we are told is beautiful or sexy?  Is this it?

Someone please, hand me a guidebook.

Carrie Blankenship is the mother of three (four, if you count her goofy puppy). She writes her way through motherhood at Stop Screaming I’m Driving! She accepts bribes of lattes (especially Starbucks) and offers of free babysitting. If you’re really lucky, she may even do your laundry. She can be contacted at carrieb-at-seattlemomblogs-dot-com.

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Besides being surrounded by gorgeous mountains and evergreens year-round, we are also surrounded by tons of bodies of water and these places are sure to fill up fast on this, the first hot weekend of summer ’08.  Yes, it is a blast to hang out at Alki, Golden Gardens, and on the shores of Lake Washington, but these beaches often become over-crowded on weekends. Frankly, I’d rather spend time organizing my sock drawer than try to fight for a patch of sand (gravel) at one of our local beaches.

Instead of flocking with the masses, we’re staying home.  Yup, you heard it.  H-O-M-E.

There are so many things you can do with your kids to stay cool in your own backyard that I just can’t justify the stress of packing, hauling, driving (have you seen prices at the pump lately?), unpacking, hydrating, etc. that is involved with heading to the beach.  Instead, we are setting up our umbrellas and pretending that the beach came to us this weekend.

Here’s how you can too:

• Turn on your hose.  This may seem simple, but the mere sight of cool, running water is known to reduce my internal body temperature by at least 10 degrees.
• Find your sprinklers.  They don’t need to be fancy, simple garden-type will do. If you do want to get fancy, head to your local store (if you haven’t already) and pick up one of those sprinkler balls (ALL of my kids are in love w/this), a slip-n-slide, or one of the other hundred types of sprinklers before they run out (go fast, you only have until tomorrow before the rest of the Puget Sound figures out that the beaches will be crowded and rush to buy their own sprinklers!).  Kudos if you managed not to break the one from last year!
• Don’t underestimate the power of the kiddie pool.  A well-placed kiddie pool, a beach umbrella and a good book will keep you happy and cool while the kids get soaked in the sprinkler.  Optional items include a)  a strawberry daiquiri  b)  an icy cold lemonade  and c)  a stylish hat (think Samantha in the Sex and the City movie).
• Sunscreen!  Remember this important item or you will spend the rest of the weekend applying aloe vera to crabby children instead of frolicking on your backyard beach.
• Have a picnic.  Make it fun.  Cut the crusts off the bread, live a little!  Set up a blanket, towels, or a portable table if you don’t want the ants joining you and have at it.  Serve all the food with toothpicks (I find that my kids will eat anything attached to a toothpick), or make them eat with their hands tied behind their backs.  Don’t forget the popsicles.  Whatever you do, make it fun!
• Water games, squirt guns, water balloon tosses, running from one side of the oscillating sprinkler to the other trying not to let it get them, are some of my kids’ favorite keep it cool activities.
• Bring the inside out.  Grab your portable radio (er, iPod docking station, I guess this is 2008) and crank the tunes.  Find an extension cord and set up a TV on the picnic table for a little late night, mock drive-in movie (pop the popcorn).   Use you imagination.
• In the evening, drag out an old tent and set it up for storytime (or ghost stories if they are a little older) under the stars.  Although it doesn’t get completely dark until nearly 10 o’clock, staying up late to stargaze with your children in the summer is an experience you both will benefit from.
• Relax.  Remain calm and keep your eye on the prize.  Creating fun summer memories doesn’t have to be hard.  Keep it simple and just enjoy being together.

Hopefully there will be many more beautiful weekends ahead.  I’m not suggesting that we all stay home for each and every one of them -  but if beating the crowds, reducing your vehicle use and stress are important to you, remember that you can have just as much fun in your own backyard!

Oh, and if you have a neighbor with one of those elaborate water slide contraptions, might I suggest whipping up a batch of cookies STAT and becoming her new best friend?  Just a little nugget of helpful advice, from me to you.

Carrie Blankenship is the mother of three (four, if you count her goofy puppy). She writes her way through motherhood at Stop Screaming I’m Driving! She accepts bribes of lattes (especially Starbucks) and offers of free babysitting. If you’re really lucky, she may even do your laundry. She can be contacted at carrieb-at-seattlemomblogs-dot-com.

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Congrats to Shannon!  YOU are our lucky winner, and it sounds like you’ll be getting these in just the nick of time!

Here is Shannon’s winning comment:

“With my tribe of pirates (three wild and crazy boys) we need all the labels we can get, and Mabel’s look fantastic! Now if only they came with a magic pill to help out with my debilitating “mommy brain syndrome” I’d be so much the better!”

I will be emailing you (Shannon) at the email you provided, OR you can contact me via carrieb at seattlemomblogs dot com! 

Thanks to everyone who entered!

Carrie Blankenship is the mother of three (four, if you count her goofy puppy). She writes her way through motherhood at Stop Screaming I’m Driving! She accepts bribes of lattes (especially Starbucks) and offers of free babysitting. If you’re really lucky, she may even do your laundry. She can be contacted at carrieb-at-seattlemomblogs-dot-com.

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Come on, am I the only one who has ever found a Polly Pocket bikini top in my wine glass?

My friends and I fondly refer to the litter of children’s things which seem to take over our homes as shrapnel. As in, kid shrapnel, and it’s everywhere! Be it the offending Lego that you so often step on with a bare foot in the middle of the night, or the whoopee cushion that just so happened to find itself on the seat of your favorite reading chair, this kid shrapnel can be a dangerous thing.

So the question remains, for all of us parents out there fed up with the kid shrapnel, what to do with all this stuff and how the heck do I organize it? 

Ta-da!  Mabel’s Labels!  I have found, in all my years of trying to organize three kids, no better solution to keeping track of what belongs to what child.  Plus, the labels are adorable, durable and available in a rainbow of colors - each with your child’s name and icon of choice on them (my kids have a skull, a turtle and a princess).  Sure, no label can completely eliminate the kid chaos and shrapnel, but they make organization a breeze, which, in turn, keeps the house a little more shrapnel-free!

Mabel’s Labels are the perfect solution for labeling everything from a skateboard (the first place my 11-year-old put his) to a sippy cup.  No need to worry about them falling off, because they are dishwasher, microwave and kid-proof!

I was so excited when we got our labels in the mail, that I went around labeling everything.  I put labels on books, cups, lunchboxes and even their Gameboys!  The clothing labels are especially handy, since my oldest will be going away (can I hear a hallelujah?) next week for summer camp and now I don’t have to worry about him losing any clothes.  He is just happy to have his skateboard labeled because, you know - skateboard theft is a huge concern of his.

Best part ever?  I am not going to keep all this labely goodness to myself (I know, shocking).  Mabel’s Labels wants to give YOU the chance to win some labels of your own!  All you have to do to enter is leave a comment on this post.  We will be giving away a Mabel’s Labels Camp Pack, which consists of 15 Sticky Labels, 40 Iron-Ons or 50 Tag-Mates (your choice), 8 Shoe Labels and 2 Bag Tags, to one lucky reader on Tuesday, June 24th!  Deadline to enter is 7:00pm (Pacific time) on Monday the 23rd, so don’t forget to leave a comment. 

TIME’S UP!  WINNER WILL BE ANNOUNCED TOMORROW, 6/24 AT 12:00PM.  THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO ENTERED!

Carrie Blankenship is the mother of three (four, if you count her goofy puppy).  She writes her way through motherhood at Stop Screaming I’m Driving! She accepts bribes of lattes (especially Starbucks) and offers of free babysitting.  If you’re really lucky, she may even do your laundry.  She can be contacted at carrieb-at-seattlemomblogs-dot-com.

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Having only been pregnant once before, I just thought all that pressure was normal.  I thought that was the price you had to pay for having babies so close in age.  I thought my poor old (25-year-old) uterus was, simply, tired.

When I caught a glimpse of my profile in a store window, I laughed out loud.  It literally looked like I had a basketball stuffed up my shirt.  The effect was even more exaggerated when I was holding my son, which was often.  He would sling one leg up over my large belly.  The sight was, I believe, comical.

When I wasn’t smiling at people who cast me sideways glances (what was she thinking, getting pregnant when she still has a baby?), I was trying to deal with the general uncomfortableness in my pelvic area.  I relayed my concerns to my OB/GYN, who assured me that I was measuring only slightly above my gestational timeline.  Since my first baby was small (6 pounds, 5 ounces), he had no reason to believe that I’d deliver the gigantic child that I thought I would.

 Boy was he wrong!

9 pounds and 8 ounces wrong.

No, I am not kidding.

The clothes we had brought to the hospital to bring our new baby home in barely fit on his big toe.  He skipped the newborn sizes altogether and went straight to the 3-6 month sizes.  Yet, he was as newborn as they come.  He barely opened his eyes during those first few weeks, he ate and he messed his diapers.  He smelled like a newborn, he acted like a newborn, he was a newborn.  But everywhere I went, people (you know, those people who like to fling their opinions left and right to total strangers?) would tell me how cute my little 6-month old was.

Eventually, I would just smile at them, knowing that I didn’t want to get into a long, drawn-out conversation about the sizes of my children and what I ate while pregnant to yield such results.

I knew then, that this would be something we would be battling throughout his childhood.

By the time Wyatt was a year old, he was wearing the same size clothing as his brother, who was two and a half.  I’d load the boys up in my double stroller and people would ask me if they were twins.  Again, this smiling technique (and a fast gait) worked to my advantage as I’d reply, “No, they aren’t they’re 18-months apart,” and I’d keep on moving.

When Wyatt was a toddler, barely fitting into his size 5 diapers, people would say, “Isn’t he potty trained yet?”

“Um, no, he isn’t even 2!”  And I’d move right along. 

Wyatt was, in fact, potty trained at 2 and a half - quite an accomplishment, I think, for a boy.

Preschool was even worse for him.  Several times, he’d be asked to perform well above his age level.  While all of my kids are exceptionally smart (I’m a mom, don’t judge), I am a big supporter of letting them act their ages, even if they can spell their names and count to one hundred before the age of five.

Everywhere we went, people thought he was older than he was.  He was, and still is, the tallest boy in the back row of the school picture.  I can pick him out of a crowd because I look for the tall one.  His peers look up to him, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but I fear that the high expectations put upon him due to his height do not allow him the same breaks as other kids.  His extreme sense of right and wrong also play into this, but that is another discussion for another time.

Even though he broke by back, I held him constantly as a baby and toddler.  He still climbs onto my lap and cuddles despite the fact that he weighs more than half of what I do.  When he gets upset, I give him hugs, just like anyone would do for any 3rd-grader. 

Sure, he hangs with the older kids - friends of his brother, and he hangs well - but he should be allowed to be 9.  He needs to be 9.  It is okay to be 9, or 10, or 11 - whatever age he is.  I just want him to know that it is okay.  I want him to know that being in the 95th percentile is fine.  And if people expect you to act a certain way, that’s their problem, not yours. 

Like all my children, I just want him to be himself.

And if he needs a hug, by all means, have one.  It’s okay, you’re only 9.

Carrie Blankenship is the mother of three (four, if you count her goofy puppy).  She writes her way through motherhood at Stop Screaming I’m Driving!  She accepts bribes of lattes (especially Starbucks) and offers of free babysitting.  If you’re really lucky, she may even do your laundry.  She can be contacted at carrieb-at-seattlemomblogs-dot-com.

 When my boys were little, before they started their formal educational training (elementary school), the playdate conundrum was easy to avoid because I had two kids so close in age.  Yes, they attended preschool together and we did several “mommy and me” storytimes at our local library mixed in with tons of time logged in at the park.  They ran and played and generally cavorted with their mates, who consisted of our neighbors, a few school friends and my best friend’s son.  They had enough playmates, outside of their sibling relationship, and I think I wasn’t too harassed by “playdate seekers” because other parents were probably afraid of my rowdy boy children.

 Now that their sister is becoming quite the little social butterfly, the playdate problem is rearing it’s ugly head.

I do love the fact that my daughter makes friends easily and I do not want to discourage that trait in any way.  But sometimes, it can be a pain for me.  Sometimes I don’t want to have to make up an excuse as to why she can’t come out to play right this very minute because we are, simply, exhausted from our morning and taking a little break before the boys come home and all chaos breaks loose.

 Sometimes, a birthday party invitation for every weekend is too much.  I have to teach her that we can’t say “yes” every time we are asked to do something because we need to prioritize how we spend the free time that we do have.

 But it is tricky, trying to figure all of this out.  Yet another parenting curveball thrown my direction by my last baby that I never saw coming and have no idea how to deal with!

 I find that as a parent of a younger child with older siblings, the rules have changed on me.  I wish someone had given me a guidebook to take me through these new waters or at least a map so that I would not feel so lost!  It is hard to feel like you are giving your youngest the same experiences that her brothers had when they were her age.  I do have to remind myself constantly that it doesn’ t need to be exactly the same, that is a ridiculous expectation and I need to just make sure that I’m being as good a parent I know how to be for her. 

When it comes to playdates, she does do less during the week than her brothers did.  But she escorts them to their various activities with me in the evenings.  Come to think of it, she isn’t the only younger sibling at taekwondo or baseball.  In fact, there are quite a few, and what do they do while their older brothers are playing baseball?  They run around playing with each other. . .

Kind of like a playdate, but less organized.

I guess I’m not doing half-bad on the playdate scene after all.  But could someone please tell that to the other mommies who are on their first kids and want to play every single minute?

Carrie is a stay-at-home mother of three and wife to one busy firefighter. You can read more of Carrie’s mothering meanderings at her personal blog, Third Time’s A Charm? Please send suggestions to carrieb[at]seattlemomblogs.com.