Urban Mama

You Know What I Did Last Summer

Last year, my immediate family didn't go on a summer vacation. Instead, faithful readers of this blog know my husband and I crazily drove from D.C. to Tampa with a four-month-old, 3.5-year-old and 6-year-old, so I could spend three weeks visitingMami at my sister's house. My siblings and I knew the end was near, so my sister Diana and brother-in-law Larry generously allowed all of us to crash at their house for 20 days.

This exact weekend marks the penultimate visit I had with my mother, and the final time my husband and older two children ever saw her. I'm so thankful, looking back, that my sister and I have the kind of relationship that made that trip a possibility. Even though it was difficult to be away from my husband for 15 days (he drove us down, took a flight back to DC, and then flew down to drive us back home), those three weeks provided me with some beautiful final memories ofMami with my children and me.

It was, after all, an Olympic summer, so Michael Phelps' glorious gold streak shall forever be strangely linked with my last summer withMami. It was a summer of buying her Pollo Tropical and Colombian take out, because neither my sister nor I could adequately prepare a proper a Latin-flavored meal -- at least not toMami 's rigorous standards. It was a heartbreaking summer, when I began to do my anticipatory grief work, preparing my heart as best I could for the eventuality ofMami's death.

But it was also a joyful summer, with young cousins flapping in the pool, camping out every night in the playroom, making mini-movies on my Flip camera, and playing Rock Band over and over again. Every day, the kids spent time with theirAbuela -- bringing her ice in the Bubba Keg, talking to her briefly, and giving her hugs, kisses, and coos. The kids would have a decade of more traditional family vacations, but last summer, that trip toAbuela's was absolutely the best thing we could've done.

This year, we are going on a summer trip. We're headed to Ocracoke Island in the Outer Banks for a week, and we're all looking forward to unplugging (a bit) and relaxing on the beach. As we make our way down, I can't help but remember, with tears and a smile, how last summer's vacation began with a similar road trip. And I wish, more than anything, that we could take that trip again -- just to seeMami one more summer.

A Pox On Our House

Our oldest son has a case of breakthrough chicken pox. I knew there was a small (10-15%) chance he could still get it despite the vaccination, but I didn't imagine he would contract it, much less during the penultimate week of first grade. Of course, knowing our family's history with odds and percentages (we're the couple that conceived three babies while using three different forms of birth control), perhaps I should have expected E to get chicken pox.

On the bright side, post-vaccination cases are milder than regular cases. E doesn't have any pockmarks on his face and isn't scratching wildly the way I remember from my own case when I was 12. He's still fairly miserable, but he's not nearly as hysterical his mama was as a tween. I got mine nearly exactly 20 years ago, the summer after 7th grade, and was doomed to spend 10 days stuck in my house -- a real prison sentence for any Florida kid who'd rather be pool-party-hopping.

I allowed E to konk out in my bed. We watched Shrek The Third together and then he drifted off into a four-hour, Benadryl-induced deep sleep. Watching him sleep (yes, that's him in the picture but he was only four then), I remembered that Mami let me stay in her room too, mostly because I had to stay away from my beloved grandmother, who was dying of pancreatic that summer in her own room across the house. It was pretty traumatic for me.

I'm thankful that E's chicken pox doesn't seem nearly as upsetting as mine was, and even though he's missing all but the last two days of first grade, I am determined to make the best of our in-home seclusion. I just PRAY that baby J is spared, because THAT would be traumatic.

Wish us luck, friends. But don't stop by unless you're willing to be exposed to the pox.

New Sneakers, New Start

I actually started working out last week. After 8 weeks of paid membership, I finally got off my lazy butt and dragged myself to the gym on Tuesday. The baby is a year old now, so I figured my little mellow boy could handle an hour or so in the child care room.

Too late for the morning step class, I decided to try the cardio area. I had no exercise plan, so I did a five-minute warm up on an elliptical machine and then 40 minutes on a stationary bike. It wasn't the most inspired work out (I didn't even have my pod), but it got my heart-rate going at least.

Wednesday morning I was sore, but I was determined to try again. I found my Shuffle, clipped it to my sports bra, and drove straight from the Schmoopette's preschool drop-off back to the gym. This time I did the reverse of the day before -- five minutes on the bike and 40 on the elliptical. What a difference. It was a sweatier, more satisfying session.

Thursday afternoon, the Schmoop's soccer practice was canceled, so I packed up all three kids and headed back to the gym. When I got there, I met a fit woman in the locker room who encouraged me to take the spinning class that was about to start. I followed her into the cycling room and was instantly intimidated. Everyone in the class was perfectly conditioned already. But as it turned out, unlike in an aerobics class, where a wrong step is rather obvious, spinning is an individual effort. Aside from the occasional choir of grunts, everyone is too focused on their own bike to pay attention to anyone else.

After the exhausting class, I realized my four-year-old Salomon trail runners just aren't up to the task any more. I ordered some New Balance sneakers and received them the following day. They're comfortable, supportive and ready for business. I can't wait to put them to the test tomorrow.

I know one week of regular exercise isn't something to brag about for most people, but for me, it's a huge accomplishment. Since my mother's death, I haven't wanted to do much of anything, let alone work out. But it's something I have to do. I have to get to a healthy weight, and these New Balances are a big part of my new-found motivation.

Living With Asthma... Again

The Schmoop has asthma. It's the kind of asthma that truly debilitates him. He is playing soccer and suddenly feels tightness in his chest. We're walking briskly around Manhattan to buy Christmas gifts, and he complains he can't "breathe too well." We've gotten to the point where we panic if we haven't packed the inhaler and mask in the diaper bag. What a terrible inheritance I've passed along.

Right now, he's hunkered down on the couch watching "Hercules" on the Disney Channel while I try to work from home and monitor his progress and medication. E had a particularly bad episode on Sunday, and yesterday his pediatrician told me if we were almost any other family (he knows us very well), he'd have the Schmoop admitted. After an all-day trip to the pediatrician's office and then the pharmacy, we finally got home and E went straight to sleep. Today he's slightly less sleepy and weepy, but he's still uninterested in doing anything but resting on the sofa. Poor little fellow. I hope he gets back to his cheery, playful self soon.

Do any of you have children with chronic conditions? How do your child handle it? How do you?

Sick Mama

I've been battling a virus for the past few days, and it's just horrible. Being sick when you have a toddler to take care of is a nightmare. If I were a single mother, I have no clue how I would handle illness and a young child. At least the husband tries to keep the wheels turning (cooking, bathing the Schmoop, playing with him, etc.) Of course, the one thing the husband cannot do is start lactating and take over bedtime nursing. It's my job, and I can't take a sick day or the boss will start shrieking. No joke. Two-year-olds have no empathy. Mama being sick doesn't register. Oh, there have been times when he's cried at the sight of Hans laid out on the chiropractor's table or me face down on the bed, but in general, he isn't all that aware if we're ill. I don't know how SAHMs or single mothers manage. I'm home today while the Schmoop is at his Montessori School. There's no way I could rest with him home, and there's no way I could entertain him in any way. Last night I tried to take him around the apartment building on his new Radio Flyer trike, and I came back exhausted. Sickness and motherhood (especially attachment parenting) just don't go hand-in-hand.

"Alice" in Wonderland

by Melissa

So, I was listening to a couple of conservative radio personalities this morning on my way to lovely Victoria, Texas. The guy on from 7-9 is a local guy who talks mostly about city politics (Houston). He mentioned a flap developing in our fine city over Go Ask Alice. The website is linked on the "Teens Only" sections of the City of Houston and Houston Public Library websites.

One of our news stations did an exposé on it last night. The website is run by Sandie's alma mater, Columbia University, and appears to be a site where people can submit anonymous queries about sexuality, drugs, relationships, etc., and have their questions answered [Sandie's edit: by health-care professionals the University employs]. The reporter informed a city councilman about the link on the two websites, and he ordered that it be removed in light of the graphic nature of some of the information on the site.

I called Sandie and asked her if she was familiar with it, and she revealed that she had worked as a work-study student for the site [We got paid to read through long lists of anonymous posts and suggest which ones "Alice" should answer] while at Columbia. She said that it was an excellent service intended to benefit college students, and that most of the questions were of a quite benign nature, like "is it ok that I'm 22 and a virgin?" We chatted about it briefly and hung up. At 9:00, Laura Ingraham (my fave) came on, and she mentioned it also. She is planning to discuss it in more detail tomorrow.

I reserved comment, since I had not had an opportunity to look at the website until just now. I just looked at it, and I have to say, I am shocked. It contains some extremely explicit and graphic information that I am embarrassed to look at as a 28-year-old non-prudish married woman. It certainly isn't something I think a city or public library website should be linking for teenagers. I am all for educating kids about sex and whatnot, and I heart the First Amendment, but is there really any reason for a city or public library website to target 13-year-olds with a link to a website with information about beastiality and the like??? I mean, I know kids are smart cookies and could find the information if they want it, but there is just something stinky about linking it from a city or public library website.

As Mr. Hendee said on his show this morning, I don't think that this is going to destroy our society, but I think it is an indication of what is wrong with the moral fabric of the United States.

I am interested to see, particularly, what Sandie, as a Columbia grad and left-leaning -- but also extremely moral -- person has to say.

Fat Kids

Peter Jennings' latest special report, "How to Get Fat Without Really Trying" (on ABC Dec. 8), was a mainstream indictment of the food industry and advertisers who peddle junk food to small children. Of course, it's no real surprise that the U.S. doesn't regulate the amount and kind of ads that children, even preschoolers, see on TV day in and day out. Jennings spoke to an ad agency exec who said it was a parent's responsibility to limit a child's exposure to ads, not his responsibility to stop marketing sugary cereals and fatty snacks to the under-8 set. Of course an advertiser isn't supposed to take responsibility for a child, but what about forcing companies to stop performing focus groups on two-year-olds and purposely making commercials targeting elementary school kids. All the spokesmen said the ads are really for adults, but it's no secret that companies make commercials to add the "nag factor" to parents' lives. Everyone knows that if little Timmy or Tammy pesters mommy enough, she'll cave in and buy Reeses' Pieces cereal or super-sized, artificially flavored fruit drinks.

So what can we moms do about it? Well, unless we're willing to turn off the TVs completely, one answer, as simplistic as it may seem, is to buy and use a DVR. TiVO makes it possible to bypass commercials and get straight to Elmo, Dora or Lizzie Maguire. Children lack the ability to discern when ads are exaggerating or manipulating (of course, some adults can't do this either, but that's a whole other issue). So your kid will miss a few ubiquitous jingles or catchphrases ("they're GRRRRREAT!"), but ate least he won't be a slave to consumer marketing MBAs who schill their products to toddlers. The other answer is to make sure that your kid is involved in some form of athletic ability. God knows I'm a pretty uncoordinated twentysomething, and I can't help but blame my mom for thinking sports were for "tomboys." After dealing with weight problems for most of my life, I refuse to allow my child to get fat. It just won't happen. I've seen too many infants with soda in their baby bottles to buy food that will lead my son down the path to obesity. The occasional slice of pizza -- fine, but buying everything from Pop Tarts to chocolate-covered Teddy Grahams and happy meals every week? No way!