CityMama™

To the mothers who work

To the mothers who work,

The ones who know that staying home with kids is work, too, but who choose who work outside the home because they need to (and, maybe, wish they didn't) or they like to (and, maybe, wish they didn't).

The ones who would like to slow down. Just a little.

The ones who've taught their kids to do their own pony tails in the morning so they can have five extra minutes to shower (because they know it takes exactly five minutes to shower, dry off, lotion up, put on deodorant, and get dressed—if they don't have to wash their hair).

The ones who schedule meetings and phonecalls right after school drop-off and hope they can make it in and out of school without having to chat anyone up.

The ones who would like to chat someone up at school drop-off sometimes.

The ones whose third babysitter quit yesterday.

The ones who take their kids to a daycare center and they wonder if their baby is getting enough hugs.

The ones whose entire paycheck pays for the nanny.

Camp Galileo Rocks!

I'm not one of those parents who starts signing up for summer camps in January. I also wasn't one of those parents who stressed out about finding the right preschool or nanny for my kids. I'm pretty relaxed about those matters and believe that things will fall into place as necessary. As a result, we've had great camp and preschool experiences and I've never been stuck scrambling for spots for my kids.

One of the most talked-about camps in my area (the San Francisco Bay Area) is Camp Galileo. They are known for their emphasis on science and for running their camps like week-long schools. Activities are programmed around a theme and you receive feedback about your child at the end of every day, almost like a mini-report card. Counselors who didn't really know my girls gushed about their friendliness and helpfulness.

Most parents would view this as a positive, but at times, it seemed like overkill, especially having to show my ID upon checking my child out everyday. Perhaps this was only an inconvenience to me (albeit a slight one) because I also had to juggle a wiggly baby in one arm while digging in my purse for my wallet. If you are concerned about safety, however, this is no small thing. I've heard plenty of horror stories about teen camp counselors not being the most "aware" when it comes to kids and I felt my kids were safe at all times.

 
Counselors at Camp Galileo seemed to be college-aged and many had been counselors for years. I really appreciated that stability and the fact that older means (a little) wiser) When Wallie forgot her lunch in the car (I didn't realize it until I picked her up), they took care of it and she was given a sandwich and fruit.

The girls (ages almost 7 and 9) loved their Camp Galileo experience. Wallie is artistic and loved being able to spend days "creating" even though she was also learning about ancient civilizations. Bunny is athletic and the fact that there were lots of opportunities for movement (including water play on a hot day) appealed to her.

What I liked best about their camp experience, though, was that having just moved from one city to another, it was an opportunity for them to make new friends. Thankfully there is a Camp Galileo program in our new town. Counselors made efforts to connect the girls with kids from their new community and that has helped to ease their transition tremendously. Instead of heading into this new school year full of anxiety, they are excited to see their new friends again.

Back to my original point about not scrambling for camps, surprisingly, at least in our Camp Galileo program, there seemed to be plenty of spots available. My gals were able to attend camp for free (see disclosure below), but even if they hadn't, when I registered my girls there were plenty of spots available in the week we wanted, and counselors were great about letting parents know that spots were available in the coming weeks. (See? Don't stress! It always works out.) If you've been hesitant to sign up for Camp Galileo because you thought you couldn't get in, check their website. There may even be spots left for the last weeks of August before school starts. Camps also have before and after care--perfect for working parents.

Over all, our experience with the camp was positive. The girls had a wonderful time and have been bugging me weekly to go back. Isn't that the best recommendation of all?

Disclosure: Camp Galileo offered my girls free camp attendance in exchange for my thoughts about their camp experience. Camp is a personal experience—all opinions expressed here are my own.

 

Summer Chores and To-Dos

Everyone has a great summer when you keep the kids busy. Here's our key to happiness this summer (especially during the non-camp weeks):

Chores:

• Tidy up rooms every night
• Make bed every morning
• Set table (Wallie)
• Clear table after meals (Bunny)
• Wipe table after meals (take turns)
• Swiffer (take turns, they fight over who gets to do this)
• Babysit The Bundle for 15 minutes (each!)
• Water plants outside (Wallie)
• Take out garbage (Wallie)
• Take out recycling (Bunny)
• Empty dishwasher (Bunny)

This is the best one:

• Change Bundle's morning diaper, Mon-Wed-Fri (Bunny—I am a genius!)

To-dos:

• 20 minutes of reading every day
• Be active every day
• Try a new food each week
• Cook something with Mamma each week

How about you?

 

photo credit: Workit Mom

Life, now

The Bundle is now 3.5 months old. He babbles constantly and is adored by his sisters.

He is 16 pounds of chunk.

He sleeps in his crib nowadays instead of tucked under my armpit.

But sometimes, if he falls asleep under my armpit after nursing in the middle of the night, I leave him there.

I thought I would have weaned him by now, but we're still going because he has taken a bottle since he was born. (With the third kid, you learn some things.)

Bunny and Wallie are officially 4th and 2nd graders. School ended yesterday.

We move in a week, just up the road a piece, closer to San Francisco. We need more space now that The Bundle is here and if we move out of Palo Alto, everyone gets their own rooms.

Bunny and Wallie don't want to go to a new school and it kinda breaks me up inside, but I know that they will make friends quickly. I've signed them up for as many camps as I could squeeze into the summer, all through the park and rec department of our new town. Gotta be some new friends in there somewhere.

Work is amazingly, incredibly, exhaustingly busy. I eat, breathe, and sleep Clever Girls. There are nine of us now, and we're about to hire our 10th employee. And a couple of summer interns. It's a real, honest-to-god business. We offer full benefits and pay for people's iPhones and stuff.

I can't wait to move so I can start cooking again. Really cooking. Baking bread and canning pickles, cooking. The kitchen I've had for the past two years has been beyond lame.

I don't feel any pressure to blog regularly. I hope that's okay.

Cooking with Kids: Bunny's Chili

I remember being younger than Bunny when my mom would turn me loose in the kitchen and let me cook (mostly things like scrambled eggs, pancakes, or soup...). Now that she's almost 8.5 (and we have a baby on the way), I've been making more of a concerted effort to teach her how to cook simple things. She's really excited about our lessons and always says, "Do I get to make this when Bundle is here?" 

The funny thing is that it's Wallie who, at the moment, has the patience for the start-to-finish—the reading of the recipes, the gathering of ingredients, the cooking and the clean up. Bunny prefers to come into the kitchen, help for awhile, then leave. She isn't much for the details.

Having said that, her repetoire now includes: making scrambled eggs (she knows to keep the pan on low, stir gently, and to take them off the stove while the eggs are still glossy), making toast (and checking to make sure the toaster is off), heating up her favorite veggie sausages in the microwave, and making tomato soup from scratch (and adding a little honey if the tomatoes are too acidic).

A side note: she can also make hard boiled and poached eggs in our egg cooker which is a great gadget for kids (and makes cooking eggs SO easy—just don't ever fill it up all the way with water or the eggs get over-cooked.)

Last night we tackled chili.

I don't use a recipe when making chili. It's always a variation on the same theme:

• diced onions (pre-diced onions from Trader Joe's are perfect for this, especially if kids are cooking)
• smashed garlic
• a pound of ground beef or turkey
• a can or two of drained pinto, black, or kidney beans (with beef) or drained cannelini beans (with turkey)—or all beans (and maybe some diced zucchini) for veggie chili
• a can of diced green chilis (with turkey)
• a large can of diced tomatoes (usually with the beef, sometimes with both)
• Penzey's chili powder
• cumin
• unsweetened cocoa powder
• a pinch of cinnamon
• oregano
• salt and pepper to taste
• if I have it, a half bottle or so of beer (as long as it's not dark and bitter, Corona or Heineken are perfect)

And the toppings include:

• diced avocado
• chopped onions
• shredded cheese
• minced fresh cilantro
• Mexican crema or sour cream
• lime wedges
• jalapeños en escabeche
• hot sauce or salsa
• tortilla chips (if I have them) or rice (Hawaiian style!)

Last night I turned Bunny loose on this loose recipe. She learned how to use a can opener for the first time, opening all the beans and tomato cans. I taught her to taste for salt as she goes. To add a little water if the consistency didn't look right. A measuring lesson is up next because those teaspoons and tablespoons can be confusing (I don't measure, but I'm trying to teach Bunny about proportions of things.) But overall, she did a great job, and the chili was delicious. Not a drop was left!

She is good

I found this note on Christmas Eve, next to the plates of cookies and carrots for Santa and his reindeer, and as the girls were brushing their teeth and getting ready for bed, I had to step into the kitchen for a quiet cry into a dish towel. J. came in and I showed him the note and he let me collapse onto his shoulder as he squeezed me tight. His eyes said it all—she is special and we just couldn't be prouder of our girl.

I know that other 8-year-olds are this sweet and sensitive and caring, but as her mother, it's hard for me not to think of her as the most sweet and sensitive and caring one.

As much as I'd love to take credit, I don't think it has anything to do with us, and that's what makes me cry those happy tears.

Yet another way she shows me how extraordinary she is

She slips into our bed as she always has, every morning, since she could figure out how to climb out of her crib.

She's not The Snuggly One, so she doesn't press her body into me and tuck her knees up onto my hip like her little sister does. She just needs to be between J. and me, under the covers, with enough space to raise her arm to suck her thumb.

Except that these days, she lays down facing me, and I feel her warm little hand creeping quietly towards me, landing somewhere on my expanding stomach until it settles into its resting place just under my belly button, right where this baby likes to park his feet.

A kick. Or two.

Then ever so softly—and every morning—I hear her say, "I love you, Bundle. I'm your BIG, big sister," just in case he is ever confused about who is there.

Because she is, and has always been, caring and considerate like that.

My most important job: Protector of hearts, souls, and minds

I had a coupon to Gymboree, so yesterday the girls and I went to do a little post-Back-To-School shopping. Both girls grew about a foot over the summer, and Bunny especially needed new pants and jeans.  She's eight and has a strong, athletic frame (future volleyball player, perhaps?) and long, long legs so she wears a size 12 pant. Yes, they're slightly loose in the waist and about 3 inches too long, but they fit her hips and thighs and she likes to have room move.

As we were trying on clothes, the sales lady pulled me aside, nodded towards Bunny, and said, "I think it's really great that you can still get her to shop here.  We have moms who love our clothes but say they have to cut the tags out." Meanwhile, Bunny and Wallie were squealing over the t-shirts adorned with puffy doggies and furry kitties and deciding which ones they wanted.

Eight

We spent the weekend away from home and I could tell you were a little bit worried that we would forget your birthday.  When we got back home yesterday, I had to run to Target for some things.

The decorations.

A card.

Some last minute gifts.

The soccer shorts you requested.

When I walked in the door, you glanced at the laundry detergent and toilet paper in my hands and you wanted to know,

"What took you so long?" 

"Is that all you bought?"

"If that's all you bought, then why were you gone so long?"

Your brow was furrowed and there was worry in your eyes. You thought we wouldn't remember.  I could tell.

I could tell because you are my old soul of daughter. My all-knowing one. The one wise beyond her years. Your intuition was in overdrive.

I kissed away your furrowed brow and squeezed you tight.  I wanted to tell you right then and there that I had presents tucked away in the car and that I was waiting for you to go to bed so I could bake your chocolate cake and tack up the "Happy Birthday" banner and hang the red and pink streamers.

You said you were tired and that you wanted to go to bed so that your birthday would be here quicker, the same thing you say on Christmas Eve.

You were asleep within minutes.

And I wrapped presents and baked and frosted your cake and put lots of sprinkles on it just how you like it.  I got up on chairs and hung the streamers.  I moved the banner three times because I wasn't happy with how it looked until it was just right. I arranged your cake and your card and your presents on the table and shut the lights and went to bed.

And in the morning, you were eight.

Girls of summer

The girls got their softball uniforms today.  Shirt, visors, and matching stirrup socks.  They are totally out-of-their-minds excited. The colors will dictate the names of their teams, and though (I think) the team names are already decided, we spent all of dinner coming up with new names.

I was on a softball team when I was in sixth grade. It was a total disaster.  I was a dancer, not athletic at all, but I wanted to keep up with my sporty friends.  For some reason it was decided that I should be the pitcher. I was terrible. I took forever to throw the ball because I wanted it to be "just right." A strike every time. That was my goal. I once walked 14 people in a row. I cycled through an entire team roster. Twice. Yeah, I think we lost that game.

I had no business being on that field. I was much happier in the dance studio making up lyrical routines to Chicago's "Hard to Say I'm Sorry."  Tears, I'm telling you. You would've been verklempt.

Plus, dancers have way better uniforms costumes.