It's my life...

Just like their mom

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 14:00:00 +0000

Lights out is around 7:30pm. I'm pretty strict about it. Even with such an early bedtime both girls struggle with waking up at 7am, and C has trouble making it through a full school day without needing to rest at school.

Recently though I found myself confounded. Instead of being their usual well rested selves, the girls were waking up more tired than ever.

I actually went so far as to call the pediatrician.

Little L? That I could understand. She's still up a couple times a night. But C? There was no good reason behind the bone tired exhaustion she was claiming.

Scary, scary words were flung around, so before I subjected C to a battery of tests, I decided to have a little chat with her first.

In all innocence she revealed that...

she reads under her covers until she's "sleepy."

Mystery solved.

In fact, mystery solved for both of them. This under the covers reading is something they've both been doing.

A few weeks ago, in an effort to give them both a little more night-time security I purchased some press-on LED lights for their beds. With the push of a button C can climb down from the top bunk without falling. With the push of a button Little L can locate the lovey that's fallen on the floor.

I thought $8 would buy me a little more shut-eye. Instead it bought my kids the ability to adopt one of my own childhood habits.

I remember the thrill of pulling the covers over my head, of turning on the flashlight, and of opening a book. I was (and still am) a voracious reader. I read late into many, many nights. Somehow books are better when read in a dimly lit little blanket cave.

I've had to put the kibosh on C and Little L's late night reading. I did it somewhat half-heartedly. The reader and writer in me is doing jumping jacks about their budding love of reading. I would love nothing more than to have given birth to a couple of bookworms. But the mom in me is winning out. These girls need to sleep at night.

They'll just have to do their reading during the day... until they're grown-ups and can get away with reading until all hours of the night like their mama.

Source: flickr.com via Tiphanie on Pinterest

We got here somehow

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Tue, 07 Feb 2012 14:00:00 +0000

The last three weekends have been a blur of packing tape, cardboard boxes, and trash bags. Progress was slow the first two weekends, but this weekend the shelves are finally starting to look bare. And yet, everywhere I look there are more books, more toys, more things that need to be packed up.

It's never ending.

This isn't my first move. It's not even my first move with M. And yet, it's like I've never done this before.

I don't remember vetting movers in the past. Did I really just call one company? And who were they? I mean, we didn't have much when we moved into this house, but we sure didn't move it ourselves. Or did we?

And what about all this stuff? Do I really have to box it all?

How do you move what's in the fridge?

Why do we have not one, not two, but three Candy Land games?

Why is there packing tape on the bookshelf?

How do we figure out how big the new rooms are so we can figure out what furniture goes where?

Where do I stack boxes when I run out of space in the hallway?

WHY, why are there so many books?

If only one of us can carry anything, how am I supposed to deliver the TV I promised to a friend?

What am I going to do with the bunk beds and changing table we no longer need?

Who's going to deliver all these unwanted books to the public library?

The questions are as endless as the stuff.

I have no doubt that we're going to figure it all out. I have even less doubt that it will entail more than a few trips back and forth in the car, even after hiring professional movers.

What is questionable is whether I'll make it through with the rest of my sanity intact. But that's OK; our new home is a haven of tranquility and I'm getting to be a pro at ignoring the chaos of living among boxes.

Goodnight Susan; rest in peace

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 23:04:00 +0000

At a conference a few summers ago, in the middle of the chaos that are all blogger events, I was invited up to Susan's room to chat. Despite brutal chemo treatments she was there, scheduled to speak and determined to be there no matter what.

When I got to her room I found her in bed, sitting up, eyes bright with excitement. She, Leticia, another one of their roommates, and I chatted for a while, randomly having an animated discussion about Judaism. After a bit the conversation turned to the reason I'd been invited up to their room.

They wanted my professional help.

Since Tiny Prints had just started doing personalized greeting cards, the girls were hopeful that they'd be interested in working with the American Cancer Society to create special cards based on the designs already being used as eCards on the More Birthdays site.

I had my doubts about how that project would go. I had my doubts about how far my personal influence would take it. But I looked into Susan's shining hopeful face, and I didn't have the heart to quash her dreams.

There she was, sitting in bed, too tired to go be part of the conference hoopla, and still, she was thinking about others.

That was Susan.

When she got cancer she started campaigning to inform and educate others about Inflammatory Breast Cancer. Then she started a site aimed at offering support and a voice to moms fighting cancer.

When her lymphedema got bad, she worked to support Cricket's Answer an organization that helps women fighting cancer get wigs, lymphedema sleeves, and other things they need day to day during their fight, and yet can't always afford. She also ardently supported LympheDIVAS, the company that makes pretty lymphedema sleeves so the women wearing them can keep feeling beautiful.

That was Susan.

Last Summer, between treatments she came to Asheville, NC to accept a Bloganthropy award and to speak, once again, to a room packed with bloggers.

I'm so grateful that she was able to come despite being so tired. I got to hug her that weekend -- gently of course so as to not hurt her -- but at least I got to hug her.

Little did I know it would be the last time I saw her.

A few days ago, knowing full well that she was in hospice and that her days were numbered, I had a dream about Susan. I had arrived at some event, and she was there, sitting at a table, looking her usual radiant, beautiful self. "You're here!" I stammered. But inside I thought "You look so serene, so peaceful!"

I woke up, convinced that she had passed away, and was relieved to hear that she had not.

Today Susan finally did pass away. I'm typing this through my tears. This morning the world lost an amazing soul when she took her last breath.

I'm so sad that I'll never hug her again. I'm so sad that I'll never hear another one of her fabulous ideas for how to make things better for others. I'm so sad for her husband and her two little boys. And I'm so sad for those of you who never got to meet her or got to be touched by her infectious desire to do good.

I'm not sad that she's no longer in pain.

Rest in peace Susan. We will continue the work you started. You will live on in all of our hearts and all of our efforts.

After that bedroom meeting with Susan and Leticia I went home and sat down with the business development team at Tiny Prints. "This is really important to me and it's really important to my friend," I told them. And miracle of all miracles... they listened. It took many, many months of planning and discussion, but today Susan's American Cancer Society cards can be found on the Tiny Prints site. May they hopefully lead to more birthdays for more moms.

No, but really, what's for lunch?

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 14:00:00 +0000

I know we've all read the book, or at least heard the maxim, about how no one really cares about what you had for lunch.

I mean, duh, in general that would be a terribly boring thing to write about. Unless you were a food blogger in which case it would be totally appropriate and would probably make me hungry.

But right now, right here, I want to know what you're having for lunch. Especially if you hang out at home all day, working, not working, whatever. If you're home between the hours of 11am and 1pm, I want to know what you're feeding yourself.

See, I have a problem. I'll find something awesome for lunch and make it, once, twice, three, fifteen times. I'll stock up, pack the fridge or freezer full of my new favorite meal, and then, overnight, I'll become overwhelmingly bored with my lunch options.

And that? Is when I start snacking instead of eating.

It is amazing how much crap I can ingest when I'm not sure what I'm craving.

So, since this whole having-lunch-at-home-pretty-much-every-day-instead-of-going-out thing is relatively new and since I'm almost over eating avocado and grilled cheese sandwiches, I'm turning to you for inspiration.

Avocado Grilled Cheese. YUM. (For now...)

Source: aturtleslifeforme.com via Jessica on Pinterest

Do you make a big batch of soup every weekend? (That's what Kelly of TheCentsibleLife.com does.)

Do you always cook enough dinner for lunch left-overs? (That's what Tonya of www.tonyastaab.com does.)

Do you find ways to jazz up a salad? (That's what Katja of www.skimbacofood.com does.)

Or do you just forage in the fridge for hummus or an errant yogurt and carrot sticks? (That's what Julie of Just-precious.com does.)

Help me people! Don't make me go back to the frozen burritos that have been playing hide and seek with the frozen peas!

Come Tweet About Essential Luxuries with Acura

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 21:53:00 +0000

This morning I went for a walk. A lovely walk in the warm California winter sun. A lovely walk all by myself, just me, my podcast, and the hills.

These days between buying a home and selling the other, between caring for the husband and packing up the house, between driving the kids to one school and the other, and between work calls and meetings, taking a walk feels like a luxury.

But like my morning coffee, my post-lunch bite of chocolate, and my never-ending book habit, walking is an essential luxury. I need those things to get through the week with my smile firmly in place.

I'm not the only one who thinks essential luxuries matter. The newly redesigned Acura RDX was designed with essential luxuries in mind. It has everything you want without going overboard. A spacious cabin provides uncompromised comfort, and the most intelligent features were chosen to reward you with a robust, yet efficient, performance. The necessities have never been so smartly appointed. And even better, the RDX crossover SUV is expected to get best-in-class fuel economy. (You know, so you have left over cash for that massage you so badly need.)

So, what are your essential luxuries? And how would you like to use them to win a luxurious weekend away?

Create a video to tell Acura about all of your essential luxuries. Then enter for a chance to win the RDX Essential Luxury Challenge, where you could win a luxury weekend in Arizona to experience the Acura RDX before it goes on sale! Winners will also receive a MacBook Pro.* For more details and to submit your video, head to the RDX Challenge tab on the Acura Facebook Page.

Join us Wednesday, February 1st from 9-10 pm ET (6-7 pm PT) for a fun Twitter party, where we’ll discuss the contest, the new car, and of course, life’s essential luxuries.

It’s easy to join the party. Simply follow the hashtag #RDXContest.

Hosts:
@JustPrecious, @CentsibleLife, @TechSavvyMama, @GraceDuffy

Please also follow:
@Splash_Creative and @Acura_Insider

We’ll also be giving away prizes that will help you experience luxury in your everyday life!

Prizes include:

$25 Barnes & Noble gift card
$25 Starbucks gift card
$50 SpaFinder gift card
$50 Restaurant.com gift card
Grand Prize: Nook Simple Touch (valued at $99)

How to Enter:
RSVP below for a chance to win! Enter your name and Twitter handle. To be eligible to win you must RSVP and participate in the party using #RDXContest. All winners will be chosen by random drawing and must have a mailing address within the United States. Official rules can be found on the Splash Creative Media site.

*MacBook Pro is a trademark of Apple Inc. Apple is not a participant in or sponsor of this promotion.

Embarrassed

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 03:36:00 +0000

I live in an amazing area. It's gorgeous here. Gorgeous as in sometimes I want to stop on the side of the road just so I can gawk at the scenery. The weather is amazing -- never too hot or too cold. There are no bugs. (No, really, no bugs.) And even better, the people here are awesome.

This place, that I never expected to live in, is amazing in every way possible... except one.

The housing prices here are astounding. And not in a good way.

This past month, as we've visited countless homes in the hopes of moving to a town that would allow us to reduce the amount of time we spend commuting and that would bring us closer to our community, C has lamented the unfairness of the high price of homes.

"But we need homes. Why can't they all cost the same?"

So, after patting ourselves on the back for raising a bleeding heart liberal like her parents, we've explained to her again and again that sure, there are affordable homes, but if you want to live somewhere as special as we do, you have to be willing to pay the price.

This week we found the house of our dreams and one dizzying few days later, we're finding ourselves the new owners of this house.

And I am SO excited.

Seriously, it'll be like living in one of those spots I want to pull over and gawk at.

I keep wanting to pinch myself about what just happened.

And yet, I can't seem to allow myself to scream it on the rooftops.

Fact is, I think I'm embarrassed about what we're paying for this house.

For this area? It's a deal. Ok, fine, at least it's quite reasonable. And a great investment. And we can afford it. Which is astounding in and of itself.

But I have friends whose husbands have lost jobs this year. I have friends facing foreclosure. I have friends who live pay check to pay check. Sharing the listing with them to show off our new gem feels so... unfeeling.

Tonight as I was driving I thought back to the year we've just lived through. Everyone has their own burdens. Ours are health related, not financial (knock wood). As much as C wishes it were possible, we can't all live in the same homes, in the same towns. We've chosen this place because of family and roots. It is our home. I can't keep being embarrassed about the choice we've made in living here.

I'm excited about this new chapter in our lives. Yes, it will mean some sacrifices. Yes, it might be a little insane when you think about the actual numbers involved in the game. But when I wake up in the morning and I drink my tea in front of a view that makes my soul whole, I'll know there was a reason we found this place just when we needed it.

I'm making peace with my embarrassment. I'm embracing our choice.

On Loss, Love, and Connections

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 21:47:00 +0000

I went to a small high school. I had a handful of close friends and a handful of people I knew, but that was pretty much it. Other than the dude who would drink a 6-pack before homeroom and the guy with the drug problem, everyone was pretty much healthy and average.

I went to a huge university and attended two programs at once. Overnight the number of people I encountered on a daily basis grew exponentially. Suddenly I knew people, lots and lots of people. People with health issues, people with mental issues, people with family issues, and people who were absolutely totally average.

I finished school and went to work for a synagogue. Suddenly, I didn't just know people, I was actively involved in their day to day lives. I was the front line for every health or family crisis. And it was a big synagogue, so there were many, many crises.

And then, because apparently, I can't get enough of being in the thick of people's lives, I got addicted to the internet, where millions of people share snippets of their lives every day, weaving webs that entangle you in their ups and downs.

It's a wondrous thing being constantly surrounded by people. It means that you always have someone to pump you up when you're down, or someone to chat with when you need a sounding board. It means that you have friends all over the world. It means that no matter what you're going through, there's someone out there who can relate.

What it also means is that you know a million more people who are going through tough times.

When I had a handful of friends my life was pretty sheltered. I knew about the usual, run of the mill challenges that people face. As my social and professional circles have grown I've seen more and more of the horrors that life can bring.

Most days I love being hyper connected. I thrive on all that connectedness.

Other days the weight of what my friends face makes me want to shut off the world, curl up under a blanket, and never come out.

It was easier when I hardly knew anyone.

My friend Susan is struggling today. I've known Susan, first virtually and finally in the flesh, for over 5 years now. She's the only rocket scientist I can claim to actually know. She's wise, funny, caring, and a pillar of strength. She's fought not one, not two, not even three, but four cancers over the last four years. FOUR cancers. She has two little boys and loving husband. She has friends all over the globe. She's changed how I see science and how I want my daughters to see it. She's touched my life and improved it. And no matter what happens over the next few weeks, there will always be a little Susan shaped part of my heart. It'll glow when I show my kids a cool science trick or help them learn about a woman who has changed the world of science.

I know a million people (give or take a couple thousand) and in putting myself out there I've opened up my heart to a million heartaches. My heart breaks daily, but if I weren't putting myself out there, weren't opening myself to the possibility of sadness and horror, I wouldn't be opening myself to the possibility of meeting people like Susan.

And if I hadn't met Susan? Well my life would most definitely be poorer for it.

(One of my favorite posts by Susan: http://toddlerplanet.wordpress.com/2011/09/23/its-not-fair/, demonstrating that strength and wisdom I mentioned above.)

What if you had a drinking problem?

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 05:24:00 +0000

Let me preface this by saying that I'm not an alcoholic. I'm not even a heavy drinker. I enjoy a glass of wine here and there at dinner or out with friends, but, in reality, I loathe losing control of myself and my emotions.

In fact, I can distinctly remember the handful of times I've drunk myself blotto, and let me assure you, you really only do need one hand to count the occasions.

That's why it caught me so off guard this year, when, often after a stressful sleepless night or an intense morning drop off commute, I walked into Starbucks ardently wishing that they sold Irish coffee.

I laughed it off each time, indulged in a latte or a pastry instead of my usual drip coffee and banana and found my peaceful center through a chat with a friend - either virtual or real.

And so, one day at a time, I navigated my way through the year's challenges without turning to any substance stronger than coffee or candy to see me through. I didn't stop every day and think "another day, yay." I just did it, and until I read Amy Hatvany's book Best Kept Secret over Christmas break I thought nothing of it.

The story unfolded in front of me - sad tale of a newly single mom who finds herself drinking more and more until the drinking is out of control - and I couldn't stop reading. One line played itself over and over again in my head. "Plenty of mothers use alcohol to manger stress. You just happened to get caught."

It could so easily have happened to me. It would have been so easy to break open a bottle of wine at the close of every stressful day. To have a glass at lunch to fortify me for the afternoon. I never did though. I never really even wanted to. The need to rise to the occasion again and again was stronger than the occasional urge to find some sort of escape.

Was it because I've seen it before? Was it because I'm aware of the risks? Was it because deep down I know I might have an addictive personality?

I don't have the answer. I don't really know why I didn't start drinking heavily this year. All I know is that I never did and I'm grateful for it.

I read the book and gained a better understanding of the struggle that many face with alcoholism. In hind-sight I now know, or at least suspect, that a friend who estranged herself from me was probably heading down the same path the protagonist took, if she wasn't already there. Did she drift from me because she didn't know how to talk to me about her problems? Or was it because she saw the look on my face when she told me about a bad night she suffered through? Odds are high that I'll never know.

I wish I'd know more back then. I don't know that I would have been able to help her, but at the very least I could have been more understanding. Maybe a little less judgmental.

When I finished the book I let the story rest inside me. It was heavy, full of sadness, and yet uplifting in an odd way. The protagonist's strength was admirable and despite the sad ending, that's what I took away. Like so many mental illnesses, alcoholism is an object of shame, stigmatized by society, punished by the family courts. With the right support, the right education, the right resources maybe parents wouldn't lose their children, maybe spouses wouldn't feel the need to leave, maybe friends would be able to help.

As I often do I turned to Facebook to share my thoughts with my friends and sat there, blown away by something I'd never noticed before. I'm friends with a lot of moms on Facebook. Some I know personally, some I know virtually. I'm on there daily, chatting away, and until I'd read Best Kept Secret I never noticed just how often people post about wine or booze. To most, like it's always been for me, it's nothing. A post here or there in passing. A recommendation for a bottle of wine. A comment about how the cocktail is helping recover from a hard day. A whine about needing some wine. A reason to laugh and commiserate with others about the challenges that parenting brings.

But to someone struggling daily, for someone who fights alcoholism every minute of every day, this virtual world where I, and so many other moms, find so much of the support that keeps us going, must be just another source of anxiety.

I have no solutions or answers to this problem. I'm sure none of those moms are even looking to me to supply the answer. I'm just grateful that, thanks to one book, my eyes are a little more open today.

Join us Jan 26th, 8-9pm CST for a virtual Twitter book club hosted by Great Thoughts featuring Best Kept Secret and Amy Hatvany (@amyhatvany) herself. Follow the conversation with the hashtag #Gr8Books.

It's like dating... except when it's not.

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 19:44:00 +0000

They say it's like dating. Hunting for an agent I mean. That you put yourself out there, again and again, you meet people, and sometimes you click and sometimes you don't and just like when you date, you can't take it personally when the chemistry doesn't work out.

Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I feel like I need to mention that I've never dated. I know. It's weird. But I never did the whole, go on a few dates, decide if you like the guy, kiss, etc. In each of my relationships I skipped the whole "does he like me? does he not?" part of things and skipped straight to the kissing.

I like kissing. (I know. I'm easy. Don't tell anyone.)

Even so, even without any dating experience, I have to argue that when it comes to the Great Agent Hunt the dating analogy is flawed.

I mean, unless we're comparing it to Internet dating, which I know even less about.

Seriously, (and again, have I mentioned that my experience is lacking?) when, in dating, do you have to think back on your life, write a short (one to three paragraph) synopsis of it, throw in a one paragraph bio, add a quick letter of interest about why you're interested in that person, and email it in the hopes of maybe hearing back sometime in the next three months?

Doesn't that sound more like applying for a job to you?

You scour the web for people you'd like to work with much the same way you'd research appealing companies. What's the person's personality like? What have they accomplished over time? Does it seem like you'd fit in? Once you find someone who seems like a good fit, you pull out the letter you've already sent out countless times and tweek it to fit the new situation or overhaul it completely if needed. What do you have in common with the person that you could mention in the intro paragraph? What drew you to them? What can you say that will make you stand out from all the other applicants?

Sending brownies with your query is apparently frowned upon. Sad, but I can see how that could quickly spin out of control.

The end result is the same. When you apply for a job you know there are hundreds of other people doing the exact same thing as you. They've worked hard to get where they are, they're equally qualified. When you query your book, you're up against hundreds of other writers who have sweat just as much blood and as many tears over their book as you. The only thing that sets you apart is that one little email, an email that can only ever be an inadequate representation of who you really are, a low res 2D representation if you will.

And still, you send out your letter and hope it's just witty enough to catch an eye and just shiny enough to sustain it, you take a deep breath and move on to the next one, hoping it's the best you could do, but knowing full well that in the end it's not just about you, it's equally about the other person, the person reading it. If there's no spark there, no matter how wonderful your email might be, it won't make a jot of difference.

Which I guess really is the same as dating. No matter how authentic you are, no matter how pretty, how well dressed, how witty or shiny you might be, you can't create that spark and you really can't take it personally when it doesn't happen.

And when it does happen? The magic is powerful.

Powerful enough to make me want to kiss people. Though, apparently, much like the brownies that's also frowned upon. Go figure.

Bipper for Safety

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 23:07:00 +0000

When C was a baby I lived in fear of only one thing: that I would be stranded somewhere with her, like in a snowdrift or something, with no access to food and no way to feed her.

Now, clearly that spoke more to my underlying issues about not being able to breastfeed her than any actual danger of getting stuck in a snowdrift... in California, but nevertheless, for the first ten months of her life I traveled around with a case of cans of pre-mixed formula in my car. Just. In. Case.

Of course, the day I did run out of formula and delved into my emergency stash she found the stuff revolting and refused to drink it, but that's neither here nor there.

If that proves anything to you it's that safety is always on my mind. And yet, the day I actually needed help, formula wasn't what I needed most.

C was two and I was almost 7 months pregnant with Little L. We were driving home after a regular day at work/daycare. I was tired, but no more tired than usual and the traffic was heavy, but no more heavy than usual. We neared our exit and I started the long process of merging from the flowing carpool lane into the stop and go regular lane.

I spotted an opening and started to merge, when, with half of my Jeep Cherokee in one lane and half in the other the traffic to the traffic in the right hand lane came to a dead stop.

I'd had my blinker on for a while. When I started the merge the car behind me was easily three car lengths away. And yet the driver must not have seen my massive car jutting out into his lane because he didn't swerve into the huge hard shoulder to his left. Instead he plowed right into us.

Then the car behind him plowed into him.

As did the two cars behind that guy.

So there I was, really pregnant, two year old in her car seat, at the head of a four car pileup on one of the busiest highways in the Bay. Not a pretty moment.

I pulled over to the hard shoulder and the four beat-up cars behind me followed suit and all I could think of was the life expectancy of a person standing on the side of a highway - 8 minutes - and the fact that the person at the head of a pile-up is usually considered to be at fault.

My first reaction as I stood there was to call M. He's personal injury attorney. Car accidents are his bread and butter. He'd be able to tell me what to say and do. He'd call the insurance. But of course I forgot to take into account the fact that M had just injured his neck and he was lying in bed, doped up on some serious muscle relaxants. His phone rang, and rang, and rang as my precious minutes ticked by until I finally realized I'd have to deal on my own.

I did deal that day. I didn't say anything incriminating to the guy who hit me. (In fact I think I just blathered on and on about a) being pregnant and b) turn lights being there for a reason.) But after I left the scene of the accident and got C home safely, I grabbed my phone and changed M's address book entry to "ICE- M, husband" so that in the future, if another accident didn't have as good an outcome, the EMTs would know who to reach.

Of course, in hindsight I realize that on that day that would have done us precious little good. It's not like he would have heard an EMT's call any more than he heard mine, but it makes me feel safer to know that there's a way to identify my husband out of the hundreds of contacts that litter my phone.

Today I downloaded an app that would more helpful in the case of another emergency. The Bipper bSafe app is designed to help you contact people who could help you if you were ever in need. Its smart interface ensures that you'll always feel connected to your personal rescue team.

As soon as I had downloaded the app to my phone it suggested the people I would most likely call in an emergency based on the list of people I call most often. And that's it. In case of an emergency I can now hit one button that will call M and text three close friends (as well as my sister in Chicago in case the local networks are bogged down). The text they receive will contain a map of my exact location and the request to send help.

The only way this app could be cooler is if I could text the highway patrol along with my personal network. A quick call to my local sheriff's office assured me that this will be possible sooner rather than later.

No app can make the drivers around me better at controlling their cars, nothing can make parking lots or dark streets perfectly safe, but this one free app can help me feel like, next time I'm on the side of the road, wondering what I should do next, the answer might only be one push of a button away.

Please note, I was compensated for telling you all about Bipper's bSafe app (Which you can get for yourself by entering your phone number on http://www.bipper.com/bsafe/ and download via SMS, or by searching for bSafe in either the iTunes or Android app stores, or by texting bSafe to 84145.) but the stories contained here as well as my excitement over this app are mine and mine alone.

Driving all day long

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 22:49:00 +0000

I would have made a terrible chauffeur. I just don't have the patience and what little patience I do have is being sorely tried this month.

Let's be clear. I am a great short order cook. Eggs and toast? You got 'em. Last minute order of hot dogs? I'm on it. I also happen to be pretty good at cleaning the laundry, doing the groceries, taking out the trash, loading and unloading the dishwasher and doing whatever other tasks need to be tackled around the house while M is out of commission.

But the driving? The driving is slowly destroying my will to live. (Yes, I'm also really good at over-exaggerating.)

M has been in a full neck brace since his surgery back in December. It was fine while he was home with me. (In fact it was lovely, like a lengthy second honeymoon.) But now that he's back at work, I've found that instead of enjoying time alone with the man of my dreams, I'm spending all my waking hours in the car.

OK, fine, not ALL the waking hours.

It just feels like that.

We leave the house at 8am. At 8:30 we pull into C's school. At 8:55 I pull into the parking lot next to M's office and Little L starts to whine about how long we've been driving. At 9:25 I pull into the driveway at her daycare and finally release her from the confines of her car seat. And, at long last, at almost 10am I pull back into our driveway.

Five hours later, I get back into the car and do the trip in reverse.

So, on average, I've been driving 4 hours every day, not counting errands, trips out to eat, or whatever other compelling reason lures me back into the driver's seat.

For the last 12 years, M has been the designated driver in our family. He likes to drive. He likes to be in control of the vehicle. And guess what? I like being a passenger. You can read, play on your phone, help the kids pick up the fifteen toys they've dropped on the floor, check your make-up in the mirror, futz with the radio. And when you're out to dinner with friends you can enjoy that extra glass of wine or three.

In two weeks M should be released from the brace. I have a feeling that we'll both be doing a happy dance in the parking lot as we walk away from the clinic. Him because he'll be free for the first time in six weeks, me because I'll be handing him the car keys.

M can't wait to be free of what Little L calls his Neck Ray.

Resolve or solve?

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 19:19:00 +0000

I took a moment during the plane ride home from Chicago to think about new year's resolutions.

Kiss more, laugh more, be silly more often. Cook from scratch a few more times a week, try to clean a little more often. Get organized already.

The things that could improve on came fast and hard, eagerly supplied by the ever present Egmos who so loves to show me my shortcomings. More things that I could stand to work on popped into my head.

Gripe less, think more positively. Stop procrastinating so much.

My list grew, and as I sat there, pen in hand, looking down at this list that focused on all the ways I was failing myself and my family, I pondered a phrase I'd glimpsed on Pinterest about choosing to solve rather than resolve.

Tempting concept, right? And yet, it's flawed. Resolutions tend to be about ways to improve yourself, solutions tend to be about how to change the world around you. If there's one thing I've learned this past year it's that you really can't change the world around you, you can only change how you perceive it.

That said, I'd rather not start the year out by focusing on all these negatives. All things considered, I think I'm doing pretty darn well. My house is a mess, my kids aren't always clean, I might not always complete my to do list, but those are just details. We laugh, we smile, we hug each other. We fill each other's buckets on a daily basis and we spread that love, respect, and support all around us. What's a little dirt in comparison to that?

In light of that I'm scrapping that first list of resolutions and embracing this one simple one that's inspired by how I'm choosing to see this past year.

What's your New Year's Resolution?

(Have a resolution to share? Come share it at the first Kick in the Blog prompt post of the year!)

Musings on a Challenging Year

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 19:27:00 +0000

I made the card late one night as I sat on the couch and pondered the impossible task of creating a holiday greeting that would sum up this outrageous year without making every recipient feel pathetically sorry for us. It seems so unfair to send a card laced with misery, so party-pooperish of me. And, truth be told, I'm not one to wallow, but, that night, with M's surgery and possible terrifying outcome still staring is in the face, morbid humor was all I could muster.

I know. I know.

That card made me laugh that night. I shared it with a few select friends and pictured myself mailing it out, or at the very least posting it here, at the end of the year, post surgery, on the eve of finally turning the page on this god-awful year. The thought made me smile.

Last week I opened my saved projects, pulled up that card, and felt no such joy. Instead, I felt overwhelming sadness, because, yes, 2011 sucked, and as such, the sentiment was more than just apt, it was downright valid, but that card, it's not me, and I'm kinda sad that the me from last month derived so much joy from being so macabre.

I sat there, in front of my computer, facing the last week of 2011, and as tempting as it was to, once again, catalog the horrors that we faced in the last 12 months, I couldn't help but instead be drawn to the overwhelming gratitude that flooded me.

Weaving itself in and around all the heartache and fear were many, many moments of gratitude and love.

Last December we arrived at my sister's house, ready to celebrate Christmas, but bearing with us a particularly virulent strain of the stomach flu which we shared with everyone. They nevertheless welcomed us with open arms and never held it against us.
In March, M was scheduled for surgery (first time around) and his wise surgeon detected an underlying problem that could have caused irreparable damage had it gone unnoticed and untreated.
Little L fell and broke a tooth, suffered a subsequent life threatening infection, but was treated successfully by the doctors who know me well and respect my instincts, even when what I'm saying isn't what they would first diagnose.
C tripped and didn't break her ankle. The terrible sprain healed perfectly and hasn't left any lingering issues.
M finally underwent the surgery scheduled in March and has come out of it beautifully. His recovery is going as planned. Best of all, we got the unexpected gift of spending two weeks at home together. Last time we spent so much uninterrupted time alone together was on our honeymoon.

I could go on and on. That's what the whole year was like, hardships cushioned by good fortune and surrounded by silver linings. And through it all - all the other hiccups and challenges - the unwavering friendship and support of the people in our lives. The friends who shared a cup of coffee and a laugh on tough days, the online friends who held my hand late at night, early in the morning, and all the times in between. The friends who actually held my hand and brought me diet cokes at the hospital - all four times we were there this year. The friends who helped us laugh through the tears, took the kids when we needed it, were just there all the time. All of that makes it impossible to be bitter about any of it.

December was gentle with us. We started to heal and look forward to what's next. The reprieve has also allowed me to look back and see so much more than the small glimmers in the dark. 2011 was brutal, but it taught me to be even more grateful for the little things, even more aware of the importance of living in the moment.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Despite a valiant attempt, 2011 didn't kill any of us (thank goodness!). Instead it made us stronger, wiser, and closer than ever. Now that the page has turned I'm shocked to realize that I might even be grateful for all the challenges we faced (easier to do now that we're hale and hearty and on the other side). But if it's alright with everyone, I'd still appreciate a more peaceful and easy 2012.

Happy New Year to all of you. May this year bring you and your family countless wonders and joy - both the kind you're expecting and the kind that catches you off guard.

Grateful Children and money

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 18:09:00 +0000

Last Christmas the air sang with the not-so-sweet sound of kids grumbling that Santa hadn't brought them what they wanted. They griped that they hadn't gotten as many presents as their siblings or cousins. They whined that it just wasn't enough.

The room overflowed with wrapping paper and toys and yet they found reason to complain.

This year I was worried that we'd face the same issue. There was good reason too, this Santa was laaaazy and didn't go to the extremes she'd gone the previous year. And yet, instead all we heard were the strains of "thank you!" "this is awesome!," and "I love this!"

Even better, M reported to me that, upon coming down on Christmas morning, he overheard C respond to her cousin's surprise that people would be out playing in their yards with a neatly outlined, three pronged answer.

"First of all, maybe they don't celebrate Christmas. Second of all, maybe they're done opening their presents because they didn't get as many as us. And third of all, maybe they're happy with how many presents they got!"

Be still my heart. Maybe, just maybe, a year's worth of lessons on gratitude have finally sunk in. Maybe she's finally maturing.

I've been thinking about the allowance issue a lot this year. M and I were not given an allowance as children. We were given things that we needed (or at times wanted) when we asked for them. However I would love for my children to understand how to manage money better than I do and I have a hunch that giving them an allowance is the path to that knowledge.

Until this week, I've assumed that C wouldn't get the allowance thing. That she'd spend her cash on the first thing that caught her mind, not really thinking about saving or even gifting parts of it when the right occasions arose. Now I'm starting to think that we might be able to start her small, explain what expectations she needs to meet to get her allowance, and what expectations she needs to meet to manage her money.

I think that the highly visual aspect of Kidworth's interface will help me teach her well. We can work together to create savings goals, spending goals, and even sharing goals. Hopefully next time I hear her exclaim "I love this!" it'll be over something she planned to get for herself and got because she was able to save up her allowance to get it.

This post was inspired and sponsored by Kidworth, a neat site designed to teach kids financial goal setting. Set up Kidworth accounts for the kids in your life and let family and friends help you give them the gift of financial responsibility. Parents set up an account, and kids enter their goals. Whether they are saving up for guitar lessons, or a donation to the local animal shelter, Kidworth can help them achieve their goals.

Ode to Breakfast

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 22:53:00 +0000

Many years ago, the day after I had met M and we had already spent a considerable amount of time together, he stopped mid-sentence and turned to me with a dead serious look on his face.

Here it comes, I thought, he's going to ask me something crucial. Couldn't be about religion, we'd covered that the evening before. Couldn't be about... Really, I had no clue. All I knew is that it was clearly something monumental for him.

I held my breath.

"Do you..." He started and hesitated, looking me deep in the eye. I squirmed. "Do you like breakfast?" He finished in a rush.

I burst into laughter. Ridiculously relieved that this was the question and, more importantly, that I knew the answer and was pretty sure that it was the right one.

"Of course I like breakfast. What's not to like?"

Moments later we were headed towards M's favorite breakfast place, a hole-in-the-wall joint I'd come to love too (and would once stand in line at for an hour in the middle of a Boston snow storm just for one of their very much in demand tables).

From that day on breakfast has played a central role in our lives. We know where to find the best french toast, have perfected breakfast for dinner, and make sure that we always stock the staples for a great start to the day.

Of course, since that day, our routine has changed a lot. No longer will we stand for an hour in the cold just for the promise of warm pancakes and fresh orange juice. Now breakfast is a family affair, kids, daddy, mommy, juice, cereal, yogurt, and the morning paper.

We don't talk a whole lot, at least the grown-ups don't, but we start the day all together, enjoying a routine that started the moment C was born and grew to include Little L when she made her way onto the scene.

Moments after breakfast we split up and go our ways. M heads off to work. C and Little L retire to the living room to watch a PBS show. And I bustle around getting everyone's things together. But that brief interlude (On average 17 minutes for each family according to Kellogg's.) at the kitchen table, as predictable as M's eternal love for breakfast, grounds me and gives me the energy I need to get through the day.

All survey statistics come from the Kellogg's Breakfast in America Survey by The NPD Group (December 29, 2010 - January 24, 2011).

Please note, my love for breakfast is all mine (and M's) but I was compensated by Kellogg's and The Motherhood to share it with you.

Hearkening Back

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 02:45:00 +0000

My husband mentioned in passing today that he'd really enjoyed my last non-sponsored post. He said, and I quote, "It hearkens back to when your posts really sang with your voice."

My jaw dropped and for a second I wanted to be mad. How dare he denigrate my work, any of my work, even the stuff that is technically not 100% from my heart? But the rant died on my lips.

He's right. Other than a post here and there, my stuff hasn't shone in a while. In fact, if you look back at the blog archives from March on, there's a lot more sponsored stuff than from the heart stuff.

But really, it's not my fault. What does he want? That I should write about the stuff that is wedged in my chest, like a boulder that I can't seem to dislodge?

How last week I sat in the hospital waiting room, waiting to hear if the surgery that we'd waited for for four years would give us our lives back? How during those five hours after the nurses has wheeled him into the OR a part of me cringed and waited for news that not only were we not going to get our lives back, but I might not get my husband back at all? How when the medical assistant assured me that they'd take care of him, my voice broke as I just asked her to please not break him any more than he already was?

How about writing about the anger that coursed through me the week before the surgery? Anger that we should have to deal with this on top of everything else when other fathers get boundless health they take for granted.

Maybe I should write about this god awful year where tribulation after tribulation landed on us, month after month, like Moses' plagues, except without a way to make. them. stop. The broken tooth and ensuing infection. The sprained ankle. The strep in the finger and accompanying relentless 104F that stuck around for four long days. The fall off the monkey bars and subsequent trip to the ER. The terrifying medical diagnosis. The worsening of the other, pre-existing, condition. The dead car. The crumbling foundation of the house. The damn Supreme Court ruling that dried up our income.

Or how about I write about the fact that every night these last two weeks I've sat at the computer and tried to create a family holiday card and... I just can't. (Well, I did create a card, but M says I can't send it. It's not appropriate or something and might worry some recipients.) But really, what is there to say? So long 2011, don't let the door hit you on the ass as you leave! Not exactly in the spirit of the holidays.

This year would have brought a weaker woman to her knees, or at least running to the vodka and pills. Not me, I'm freakishly strong apparently. I've found my super power, I can take an emotional beating and just keep on chugging.

What does come to a halt is my creativity. It all gets stuck, maybe because if I start to tap into the place that allows me to spin heartfelt, emotional posts I won't be able to stop everything from spilling out, and if that happens I won't be able to keep on chugging any longer.

My husband's surgery went really well and according to the surgeon was long overdue. They wheeled him back to me, and he opened his eyes and cracked a joke. I almost wept in relief.

He's home, with me, recovering until the end of the year. The two of us are hanging out, reading, talking, napping, and laughing. We're healing. Him from his surgery, me from this year. I want nothing more than to just sit here, licking my emotional wounds, and if he weren't here I'd probably be doing just that (or my equivalent which involves endless hours of Las Vegas reruns and too much tea). Instead I'm lapping up this unexpected bounty of one-on-one time with my husband and remembering to be grateful for what this year didn't take from me.

I have my family, my sense of humor and my voice, which is lying peacefully inside, just waiting for me to be ready to let it out again.

Tiny Killers In Your Home

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 23:25:00 +0000

Two years ago a good friend who is always, always, always online wasn't on Skype when I got up and got ready to work. I searched my addled brain to try to remember if she'd mentioned any special outing that might have take her away from her usual post, but, other than vaguely remembering that her son had been complaining of a tummy ache, I came up blank. So I headed over to Twitter and Facebook to find some clues.

I didn't get a clue, I got a chilling answer.

My friend's son had swallowed a button battery and was being rushed to the children's hospital an hour away. The battery was lodged in his throat and was busy burning a hole in his esophagus.

I don't pretend the remember the details of that day, though I'm sure his mom relives it in many of her nightmares (and you can read it here), I do remember the horror I felt as I tried to imagine just how many things in our home contain button batteries.

Think about it. They're in everything. Every little toy. Every watch. Every musical card. They're in things you don't even think might contain batteries. And, unlike products designed for specifically for kids, with battery covers that screw shut, most items have easy to open compartments.

Did you know that it only takes about two hours for a button battery to cause serious burns in a child’s esophagus? Another hour of waiting at home to see if his tummy ache would go away and my friend's son might have been in the hospital for months recovering from serious reconstructive surgery.

Did you know that in 2010, there were more than 3,400 reported cases of children ingesting button batteries? The number of cases of children swallowing batteries has more than quadrupled in the past five years, but since the symptoms of coin-sized button battery ingestion may be similar to other childhood illnesses, such as coughing, drooling and discomfort the situation often goes goes unreported.

My friend's son was incredibly lucky, first that his mom trusted her mother's intuition and rushed him to the ER and second that he got there in time for the battery to be removed safely. Not all kids are this lucky.

This holiday season, when button batteries proliferate and parental vigilance dips, Safe Kids Worldwide and Energizer have announced a critical partnership to share life-saving information with parents and caregivers about the potential risks of swallowing coin-sized button batteries. The formation of “The Battery Controlled” by Safe Kids and Energizer shines a light on this growing issue and provides easy steps parents and caregivers can take to prevent injuries and deaths to children.

Be proactive. Keep button batteries and devices that use them out of reach if the battery compartments aren’t secure.
Act quickly. If a child swallows a battery, go to the emergency room right away.
Spread the word. Tell others about this hidden danger and share these steps.

For more information on this important issue and for tips on how to protect your family, visit www.thebatterycontrolled.com or join the conversation on Facebook www.facebook.com/thebatterycontrolled or Twitter: www.twitter.com/batterycontrol Hashtag: #BatteryControlled

Still not convinced that there are button batteries lurking in your home? Maybe this video will change that.

Please note, I was compensated to share this information with you, but my concern for your little ones is very real. Keep the kids safe this holiday season.

Super Speller

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 22:59:00 +0000

When I was a kid in elementary school I was a "Super" Speller. That's right, not just super, but "Super," as though no one in the school would notice the quotes and the capitalization and not instantly know that it was a euphemistic name.

Right now? Totally had to use spell check to spell euphemistic.

To put it simply, I'm a terrible speller. Terrible. I rely heavily on spell check and on that neat little function in Firefox that underlines misspelled words.

I'm not telling you this to give you something new tease me about next time we meet, but rather to put what I'm about to tell you next into context.

Somehow I've fallen into a warped reality where I am in fact the family's de-facto Super Speller. (Note the absence of quotation marks.) 17 million times a day I find myself answering the question "Mommy, how do you spell..?"

Happy.
Car.
Birthday.
Boat.
Helicopter.
Refrigerator.
Airplane.

Anything and everything. First it was just C, but now Little L has gotten in on the game. Only to them it's not a game. It's a super serious thing where they just have to know, right then and there, how things are spelled.

So, the "Super" Speller, over-user of spell check, has been caught in the never ending spelling bee from hell. And yes, they stump me sometimes and I have to mumble the second half of a word. But most often I'm able to spell the words they need.

I grumble and groan internally, but when it leads to things like this, I forgive them for putting me on the spot endlessly.

Little L's very first note ever.

Dare to Try Gloss

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 02:51:00 +0000

Thanks to L'Oreal for sponsoring my post about my favorite beauty looks, tips and tricks! Check out Makeup.com for beauty advice from the experts.

This past summer, at a blogging conference, I had a fabulous make-over. With a swish of a comb, a swoop of a make-up brush, and a swipe of a tiny bit of lip gloss I looked like Jackie O.

No, really, that's what people were saying!

Months later and the Jackie O look hasn't stuck around. First I don't have time in the morning for a fancy up-do. Second, I hang out with kids all the time so the stylish duds don't always work. But I have worked on making sure I look presentable every day, even if all I have time for is a little make-up and a bit of hair product.

The one thing I regret I didn't keep up is the lip gloss. Such an easy little thing, I thought, when it was applied. I got home and picked up a tube of pink shimmery lip gloss, excited to add something to my usual make-up routine.

Six months later the tube sits abandoned in my car. Turns out lip gloss is more high maintenance than I thought.

That said, I was a big fan of how it looked so I'm determined to try again, this time with a few tips and tricks gleaned from the makeup.com site. To start with, I'm pretty sure that if I stop treating lip gloss like chapstick it'll work a lot better! It's not all that daring or crazy, but I'm a freelancing mama, and it's the best I can manage this holiday season.

I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective. Click here to learn more about Makeup.com or become a Facebook fan by clicking here.

Venturing online @Safely

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 00:37:00 +0000

When I was a kid we lived in a tall house in London. Each floor had one phone; the one on the kids’ floor happened to be a good ol’ corded model firmly attached to the wall in the hallway with a not so long cord. I wasn’t old enough to be on the phone 24/7, but the calls I did get had to be taken sitting on the stairs in the very middle of the house.

Privacy wasn’t exactly at an optimum.

Back then I found it irritating that my sisters could hear every embarrassing word of my truly un-embarrassing call to my friends. Today I just wish that we could rig a similar system for when my kids get old enough to receive calls.
It’s not that I want to spy on them; it’s just that I want them to know that I could potentially overhear stuff. It’s a checks and balances kind of system. If mommy could potentially hear something you don’t want her to hear, it’s easy, just don’t say it.

Sadly (for me, not for them) my girls will be pre-teens and teens in the Internet and cell phone age. They’ll be able to communicate with their friends through text, tweet, Facebook, and whatever other system is invented and implemented in the next 10 years.

Let me be clear, I trust my kids, I trust that I’m teaching them to make smart choices, I trust that I’m teaching them to communicate openly with me, I trust that this won’t change radically over the coming years. That said, I also know that it’s good for kids to have an “out.”

“I can’t say stuff like that, my mom might be listening.”

“I can’t do that, my mom might find out.”

And frankly, it doesn’t hurt to have a system set up that allows for conversation starters.

My kids are far from being old enough to be allowed on Facebook, but I already worry about the day they will get their account. I know they’re trustworthy, but the same way I worry about the day they’ll drive because of the other drivers, I worry about them being online because of the other Internet users.

So, just like I’ll be teaching them to drive, first by example, then by being there with them, and finally by letting them venture out for short trips to grow their confidence and allow them to gain experience, I’m going to hold their hand as they enter the world of social media.

To test it out, I signed up for the Safely Social Monitor, a service that is part of a new suite of mobile, social and location-based family safety technologies from Safely that increases parents’ awareness, and helps them guide their kids through each stage of growth.

Guess most of my friends are women about my age! Reassuring really!

This brand new service scours your loved one’s Facebook profile and rates the activity, the friends, the photos, and anything else a parent might want to know. It offers a great tool that you can use to help your child better understand the ramifications of their online activity.

Look! 95% Good! Someone tell Sa

And if, like me, all this kids online stuff sends you into a panic, Safely has created the Safely Spotlight, a free digital parenting guide with tips and advice. The Spotlight is available on Safely's Facebook page, where you should be active so you can start by modeling smart online behavior for your child!

Please note, while I was compensated for this post about Safely's Social Monitoring service, the thoughts and opinions contained here are mine and mine alone. Since C and Little L are way too young to use Facebook yet, I ran the system against my own account. The screenshots you see above are of the Safely report on my account.

School Rules - What would you chose?

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 18:59:00 +0000

It's no secret that I'm struggling this week. There are so many balls in the air that I don't know which to catch first and frankly, I'm sorely tempted to let them all crash to the floor while I go off to Hawaii for a quick jaunt in the surf. Instead though, I'll sit here, sipping a Gingerbread Latte, dunking my donut and I'll rally. It's what I do best.

Since, beyond arranging for childcare and entertainment for the kids, I can't actively do anything about the fact that my husband is having surgery next week, I'm noodling the school issue.

Let me ask you a question. Below I'm posting two sets of school rules. You tell me which one makes you want to go learn. Maybe it'll help everyone understand why I'm struggling so much with what to do with the kids next year.

School 1, where C has been for two years now. As posted in each classroom.

School 2. One of the school options for Little L's Kindergarten.

1. Treat others and their property with kindness and respect
2. Take care of school property and treat campus with respect
3. Use playground and school equipment the way it was intended to be used
4. Do not use abusive language, gestures or physical aggression
5. Do not throw sand, stones, dirt, tanbark, pebbles or rocks
6. No personal toys, sports equipment, cards or electronic devices are allowed at school
7. Bicycles, scooters, skateboards and rollerblades must be stored off school grounds or in the bike storage area. No riding in the hallways.
8. No gum allowed on campus
9. Do NOT leave campus unless signed out by a parent/guardian in the office
10. No student, or unauthorized adult shall be in the! classrooms, library or multi-purpose room without supervision or !permission.
11. Report problems at school to an adult. Students who witness problems and fail to report them are just as responsible as those who caused the problem.

~~~~~~~~~~

The end result is going to be the same: respectful kids in a safe environment. It's just that the first set of rules are... I dunno... more friendly? Easier to want to follow?

If you're anything like me after the third NO in the second set of rules your eyes glazed over and you started skimming.

If you're like most people you felt inspired by the first set of rules. They're rules that apply all life long, which is the premise of the school. They teach the kids lessons that will be valuable their entire lives.

It's a tough conundrum. Environment #1 is a private school meaning the kids don't grow their neighborhood community through school. Environment #2 is a public school, so we'd grow our local community, but lose on the school environment we love so much.

What would you do in our case? Which would you pick? (For the sake of argument, assume both schools rank similarly as far as academics go, the distinction lies in the realm of emotional education.)

Game of Your Life review - Family Movie Night

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 22:28:00 +0000

We've finally reached a wonderful age in our house. The age where both girls can sit through a full length feature movie without getting up to wander away, bored, halfway through. Sure they're not exactly ready for Steel Magnolias, but that's fine with me, because, little known secret, I'm a sucker for kid and young adult movies.

That's right, I'll totally sit up late at night watching teeny-bopper movies by myself. In fact, I can't wait for the girls to be old enough to watch them with me. In the meantime we enjoy true kids' movies, which is just fine by me.

NBC has launched a great program that totally fits into my vision of spending at least one evening a week enjoying a movie with the kids. Family Movie Night, aptly named, features family friendly movies broadcasted for free on network TV.

This Friday's movie, Game of Your Life, is a great pick, and I'm not just saying that because Lea Thompson is in it. (I've had a soft spot for her since Space Camp. Yes, I'm a geek.) The movie features Zack, computer game designer, who is headed to a prestigious computer game college program.

The movie covers family issues - Zach is desperate to help his dad save their family home, friendship issues - Zach and his team are competing in a tough contest and he's dropping the ball, going away to college, balancing school work and personal issues, as well as a host of other topics that are sure to open the door for a great post-movie family discussion. As an added bonus it paints college as a really fun place where true passions can be followed!

The plot was entertaining, the conflict believable, and while the dialogue wasn't always as well written as it could have been, the movie definitely passes muster for an in-home evening of entertainment.

Catch the movie this Friday, December 2nd on NBC at 8pm ET/7pm CT and chat with other viewers on the official Family Movie Night Facebook page!

Please note: I wrote this review while participating in a campaign by Mom Central Consulting on behalf of P&G. I have been compensated for my time, but the opinions and thoughts contained in this post are mine and mine alone.

Teaching kids the value of a dollar

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 00:12:00 +0000

We live in a weird place where money doesn't go nearly as far as it does in the rest of the country.

Where else (other than NY) does half-a-million dollars count as the down-payment to a tiny house rather than the entire price of a large one? Where else do people buy luxury cars to park in front of those tiny homes because they can afford the vehicle, but not a nicer home?

At the same time, we live in a place where all to many people have more money than they know what to do with. And with all the IPOs for local companies set to happen in the next year, that's going to get worse before it gets better.

The upshoot of it all is that my girls are being raised around kids who have a lot. And faced with that, it's so hard to help them understand the value of money and to help them appreciate what they have.

For the longest time I didn't worry about it beyond helping them take stock of what we have when the "gimmes" would strike. But now that they're getting older and are starting to be able to understand that things don't just magically appear in our home, I'm wondering how to best help them grasp the value of money and how to save for the things we really want or need.

Let's be honest though, I'm starting at a disadvantage because I might well be the worst money manager in town. (I can just picture my husband nodding as he reads this.) I grew up essentially believing that money would be there when I needed it, and if it wasn't there right away, it would eventually turn up. (The most memorable instance of this was the first Tax Rebate issued by the Bush administration. That check landed in my mailbox, utterly unexpectedly since at the time I never read the paper, the day I desperately needed rent money. M nearly flipped his lid. Money management lesson lost. I still find the memory amusing.)

I've learned, largely thanks to my husband, how to budget, how to save, how to resist impulse buys. It hasn't been easy, but I've learned. And now I need to pass that knowledge on to my kids.

- We talk about what things are more expensive than others when we're at the store.
- We talk about how we have to chose between two things we want.
- We talk about putting bigger ticket items on our Christmas or Birthday List.
- We talk in code. A movie is worth four squinkies. An ice cream is three. A trip to Chicago to see the cousins is a bunch of American Girl dolls. Anything to get them to see how it all adds up.
- I verbalize my choices while shopping, walking them both through my decision process so they can see that the purchases aren't random, but calculated.

C has money in her piggy bank that she's saving up to buy herself a fossil that she saw in a rock store. There was no good reason for me to get it for her, so I suggested that she see how much was in her piggy bank. Now when she begs for something I can ask her if she wants it more than the fossil. So far, she hasn't wanted anything more than that.

It's an ongoing process, one that I'm actually enjoying. It's fun to watch them start to understand, fun to be there as they start to really appreciate what they have. Who knows, maybe I'll learn something in the process too!

This post was inspired and sponsored by Kidworth, a new site designed to teach kids financial goal setting. It's the perfect season to set up Kidworth accounts for the kids in your life! Family and friends can help you give them the gift of financial responsibility. Parents set up an account, and kids enter their goals. Whether they are saving up for guitar lessons, or a donation to the local animal shelter, Kidworth can help them achieve their dreams this holiday season, meaning you won't be as overrun with "stuff."

Holiday Comforts

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Mon, 28 Nov 2011 20:17:00 +0000

This post is sponsored by Tempur-Pedic, the brand millions of owners trust to deliver their best night’s sleep every night. Enjoy our Buy 2, get 1 free pillow offer now and give the gift of custom comfort to someone you love.

When I converted to Judaism the panel of rabbis who convened to see if I was "ready" asked me to do two things. First, I had to promise to raise my children in the Jewish faith. Second, I had to give up Christmas.

The first item was a no brainer, I'd already planned on that. As for the second, if I'd been able to say yes with my fingers crossed behind my back I would have. Instead I opted for explaining to them why Christmas was non-negotiable.

I must have been convincing because they let me into the tribe without making me give up my most important family tradition.

I wasn't kidding either. When the turkey dinner draws to a close I do a little inside dance because the countdown to Christmas is officially on.

Little white lights, fir trees, wrapped presents, and a whole week with my family, thinking, talking, and eating amazing food.

I love everything about Christmas. I love the gift buying, hunting down the ideal present for people I love. I love the smells and the joy that permeates the air. I even love the music. (No, really. I have a Pandora Christmas station. I kid you not.)

And why do I love Christmas so much?

Easy, all that joy, all that cheer, all those presents, tinsel, lights, and ribbon, they all lead down to the morning when we all gather together, my husband, my sisters, my brother-in-law, my mom, and all the kids, everyone on their coziest jammies, around the glittery tree, with hot tea in hand, and let the joy and excitement wash over us.

I don't care what the year has in store for us. I just know that when that morning rolls around I'll be warm and happy inside, surrounded by the people I love most making their happiest noise.

It doesn't get more comforting than that.

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The Education Question

noreply@blogger.com (Jessica R.) — Mon, 28 Nov 2011 05:25:00 +0000

First there was preschool. Then there was preschool again. And when we figured that out we had to start thinking about Kindergarten.

And even then it wasn't over.

Because the school we found, that we adore, is 40 minutes away from our house.

On most days the commute is fine, long, but fine. Round trip, home, to school, to daycare, and back takes an hour and a half, but we deal. On other days, the commute is painful.

On days like the one last week, when I get called at 5pm because C has just fallen off the monkey bars, the 40 minute drive feels downright absurd. (For the record, I did the drive in 30 minutes. Don't tell.)

C was fine in the end, but the issue brought the distance issue into debate again.

Little L is supposed to start school with her sister in the fall meaning, that, if we stay in the house we currently own, M will live 45 minutes away from work, the girls will live 40 minutes away from school, and I'll be bouncing around working from home and from whatever coffee shop I end up in that day. I hate being that far from them all day, but at the same time, I hate being in coffee shops for hours on end.

The ideal situation would involve moving closer to both work and school, but the areas further north are exponentially more expensive than the place we currently live. We'd be able to afford either a house up there or the school... but not both.

C is in a school founded on the Education for Life principles. Their goal is to teach the kids everything they need to know academically while also teaching them how to be self reliant and how to interact well with others.

When C and Little L are grown I won't care in the least how many AP classes they've taken, what classes they've aced. I will however want them to be self confident girls who aren't afraid to think outside the box and follow their dreams.

I worry that if we send them to schools that place more importance on test scores than on emotional growth, that they'll grow into girls who feel pressure to conform.

I worry that if we stay put and send them to the school we love that we'll go nuts with all the driving we have to do.

Like every time we've had to face the school issue I wish I had a magic wand I could wave to make a perfect solution appear.