Recently in Sanity and the Solo Mom Category
You know what one of the absolute coolest thing about writing Sanity and the Solo Mom has been? I mean besides meeting Kate and Jenny, and Mav, and Kira, and Jen, and you, and you, and you.....And aside from going to BlogHer, which was just lifealteringly awesome. And aside from that big box of books from Scholastic, which was my Christmas and my birthday and every good thing all rolled into one....And can't forget the opportunity to talk to literally thousands of people and know that they cared about me like one of their favourite soap opera characters or possibly the heroine in some sort of interactive novel. That's been pretty cool too. But I have to say, I get a special thrill when writers track me down and ask me to review their books.
Remember how much I loved the school bus back in September? That has nothing on how much I love it now.
Winter has hit South Western Ontario with a vengance--windchill, blowing snow, all around nasty winter weather. And I don't have to make two 30-45 minute round trips in it, dragging a toddler sled across a busy intersection no less! Now, instead of fighting the elements (and a bitter, bitterly cold child) on an epic trek to school, I simply throw on my coat and boots, stand at the front door, and watch as Diva Girl makes her way to the bus stop with her friends.
This is totally taking my love affair with that big yellow bus to a whole new level!
(Please remember that this is my last week here at iVillage. After Friday, if you want to read about the continuing adventures of Solo Mom and her Ladies, you'll need to head on over to Parenting Without A License. I'm looking forward to seeing you all there!)
This weekend I sucked up my natural inclination to put things off to the last possible moment and dug out the Christmas decorations. While we won't throw ourselves full bore into the festivities until after Diva Girl's birthday on the 14th, we're definitely getting into the spirit around here. What with the knick knacks, angels, books and DVDs that have exploded all over the house, even without the tree it's beginning to look (and sound) a lot like Christmas around here. The snowstorm we had this weekend is making it feel a lot more like Christmas too; looking out my window into all that blowing snow, I have no trouble envisioning Santa flying through the sky on his sleigh.
I love Christmas. I might get a little grinchy sometimes about the mess, the expense, and the constant "I want that! No that!" provoked by cleverly timed ads on tv (yes, I let my kids watch televison! gasp! For shame!), and having a child with a Chirstmasish birthday does up the difficulty level, but over all, this is one of my favourite times of year--second only to Back To School.
It's also one of my favourite times to be a solo mom.
Now that I've successfully completed NaBloPoMo (yay me!) I have enough time and attention to realize I've woefully neglected this blog. Saturday already and I've only got one entry in? For shame! Just because I'm leaving December 7 (so remember, adjust your blogrolls accordingly!) is no reason to forget about my responsibilities here.
Speaking about responsibilities, today I'm going to address some of the issues that are somewhat unique to the single mom community. The messageboard I belong to is constantly inundated with scared young women, fresh from a breakup and terrified and confused about what this means for themselves and their children. Much though they all think their situation is unique, they most often tell the same tale and have the same concerns. So, as a public service of sorts, I present the single mom FAQ.
Landismom has a post up asking about what we're all reading. After checking out The Very Important Books everyone in the comments is reading, I'm a bit embarrassed to be participating, but here goes....
Bubandpie tagged me for this meme, but I'm really trying to avoid doing memes at my other site, so I figured I'd do it here, instead (plus, I need an entry for this week. Nablopomo is killing me I tell you, killing me!)
So, Seven Random Things About Me:
Catherine, aka Her Bad Mother is having just about the worst day a pregnant woman could possibly have.
I'm pretty sure she could use your thoughts and prayers, so please, head on over and show her some love.
I used to have a teeshirt that read: "Caution. Does Not Play Well With Others." I say "used to" not because I suddenly realized that the shirt was utterly inaccurate and did not describe me at all (I was, after all, once given a lifetime ban to a certain moms messageboard in my area), but because one of the sad truths of your children growing up on you is that, once they learn how to read, you have to put away the teeshirts with inappropriate sayings. Not that I had many to put away (although I do miss my "Boys are stupid; throw rocks at them" shirt) since I don't usually buy things with writing or logos on them, but that shirt was different. That shirt was fun and perfect and summed me up in seven small words. You see, I don't play well with others.
I know, you're shocked, given that I'm the single mom blogger here and all, but it's true. I'm the person who will opt out of the group assignment, preferring to go it alone rather than be forced to work as part of a random team (I'd make a terrible Wonder Pet). I've never had a roommate because, quite honestly, I don't want to share my spaceor listen to someone else's opinion about the shower curtain. It all comes from the rather potent combination of growing up as the only girl in a family of five kids--and therefore not required to do the same amount of sharing as the others--and being "the smart kid" all through school, I think. Whatever caused this little personality quirk, the fact remains that I like to do my own thing in my own space.
All of this is a round about way of saying, "I'm leaving iVillage."
It's 11:47 and the child who was so deathly ill this morning that she couldn't possibly be expected to go to school has somehow made a miraculous recovery. The same pathetic little girl who lounged listlessly on the couch as the school bus left without her, whispering requests for juice and Arthur is now up dancing around the livingroom, trying to master the mashed potato. And me? I've got a wicked case of deja vu. It's like Junior Kindergarten, all over again.
Diva Girl used to routinely be "too sick to go to school" in JK, only to undergo a miraculous recovery as soon as she was safely ensconced at Grandma's house and no longer in danger of being forced to endure the horrors of finger painting and circle time. While playing sick is a time honoured school tradition, most kids don't usually start perfecting their technique in Kindergarten. Diva Girl? Well, let's just say she's the only kid I have ever met who could successfully out Ferris Ferris Bueller, and before her fourth birthday no less.
You know, sometimes it’s not actually the product that needs to be recalled, it’s the parents. Because, if the recent Bumbo recall is any indication, there are clearly some defective parents out there.
"We are a couple in our 30s looking for a baby to call our own. If you know of anyone looking for a home for their child, contact me at..."
I see ads like this from time to time, in the backs of magazines or sometimes in the classifieds section of the campus newspaper. I usually ignore them, save for a fleeting thought of how heartbreaking it must be to be reduced to running an ad in the want ads to complete your family. Today, however, I had not one ounce of sympathy to spare for the woman who wrote these words. I wasn't indifferent, disinterested, and vaguely saddened when I came across this message; I was shocked, offended, and angry.
What's so different about this ad? It was posted on a single mothers message board. Because of course a place where single moms gather to support each other as they raise their children alone is absolutely the best place to look for a new baby of your very own. Obviously, there must be a bunch to spare there, right?
I've been pretty immune to the toy recall frenzy that's been going on lately. Not because I'm some smug, crunchy, my kids only play with handpainted wooden toys from Sweden parent, because I'm not. This house is filled with plastic. Hell, with 2 daughters, this house is filled with plastic houses! It is not, however, filled with Dora, who seemed to be a major target of the recalls. That's pretty much my stance on kids toys: Pro-plastic, anti-Dora. And I feel that recent event in China have borne out my long held belief that Dora will rot your brain.
I'm kinda busy with NaBloPoMo over at Parenting Without A License, so for today's post, I'm going to answer Funny Mom's question about how many opportunities to be active in school my kid has in an average week.
You go to the medicine cabinet to get something to deal with your killer headache only to find that it doesn't actually contain a single remedy for persona over 12 years of age.
Tylenol. Advil. Motrin. I've got them all, along with the Benedryl, the Dimetap, the Buckelys, and the Gravol. I just don't have any of them in a formula that would be of any use to me. Infant formula? I've got it. Junior strength? You bet.
But not one thing in my medicine cabinet appears to have a dosage level that goes above "tween."
That was the first thing out of The Zen Baby's mouth this morning. At three, for the first time she really gets Hallowe'en. She knows that she gets to wear dress up clothes outside (actually not that big a deal, since she's worn her princess dress everywhere from the grocery store to the movies over the past month) and people will give her candy. And she strongly supports any holiday that involves dress up clothes and candy.
Me, I'm more ambivalent about it.
I decided that to celebrate the fact that the Scholastic Book Club is alive and well at Diva Girl's School, I'd write about what they sent to our house this month--in addition to a 44 lb box of books, I mean.
Not that kind of new baby, silly. In spite of Regan's daily reminders that she would very much like a baby sister, this isn't some crazy internet way to announce that I'm pregnant (things haven't gone that far with Facebook Guy). So you can relax and keep reading, Dad.
Did you see my friend Eden on Good Morning America this morning? She's the blogger who is suing Universal over misuse of copyright law after they had a video of her toddler dancing around the kitchen pulled earlier this year.
I love this story because it focuses on the way the new media explosion of the last decade has impacted our lives, and it puts a focus on artist vs consumer rights. Eden has never maintained that people should be allowed t steal the hard work of artists for their own profit; she just thinks the music industry needs to step back and allow people to actually enjoy their product. A lot of people would have just bitched about YouTube taking down the video--heck, I bet this has happed to a lot of people and that's exactly what's happened. Eden, however, is the bully's worth nightmare: the person willing to stand up and say, "I'm not afraid of you." And people--like Bill O'Reilly, The Washington Post, GMA, and now apparently Inside Edition are listening.
Go Eden! You rock!
To learn how to make this and several other easy, no sew costumes, check out my new article on Work It, Mom!
My love of the Scholastic company in general, and their book clubs in particular, is well documented as I've waxed poetic about this company both at dotmoms and Sanity and the Solo Mom over the years. I'm not usually a brand whore, choosing to go with the easiest and most economical choice rather than the one with the most ubiquitous marketing campaign when deciding how to flex my purchasing power, but I'll admit right here, I'm Scholastic's bitch.
Sorry about the blog neglect, but between juggling Girl Guides and dance class on the same night, an outing with Facebook Guy that I think might actually be a date, and the appearance of The Man I Didn't Marry on Facebook, I'm kinda toast.
Tune in next week when I...uh...juggle knives with my feet!
(There was supposed to be a cute snippet here of Regan doing the Hokey Pokey in class to use as filler, but I couldn't get it to load. Trust me, it was cute squared.)
Anyone who knows me knows that I really hate cooking. Not quite as much as I hate scrubbing the kitchen floor, but definitely more than I dislike doing the dishes. It's just not my thing. I mean, I can cook, sort of. I can certainly put something together that makes use of most of the food groups and provides adequate nutrition and edibility, but that's about the extent of my culinary expertise.
Mostly, I'm ok with that.
Except when the dreaded Potluck Dinner invitation rears its ugly head. Then I panic.
My dislike of MySpace is pretty well documented. Even before the plagiarism issue, I wasn't a fan. I just didn't get it, and really felt no desire to try (Sorry, LilMissSassypants). Facebook, however, is a completely different animal.
I avoided Facebook for a long time, too, thinking it was just MySpace with a different name. But when Ethel and Thordora, two women who might quite possibly be even more antisocial than I am, kept raving about it I finally caved and checked it out. And was immediately sucked in to MySpace for Grownups.
And I'm not even talking about the Provincial Election!
Today it the Great Virtual Breast Fest campaign spearheaded by The League of Maternal Justice to support breastfeeding in the face of media ignorance. Today, the boobs come out to confront the Boobs who think that they should be put in their proper place, stuck behind pasties, concealed under Hooter Hiders (I'm not making that up, that's the actual product name. Personally, I prefer "Boobie Burqua."), or, if they must make an appearance, tucked safely away in a public washroom.
I don't have to break up with Diva Girl's school after all.
Which is a relief, because I do so love the school bus, the peanut butter, the nice little girls eager to be her friends, and the life lessons, but with the Scholastic Book Club in the balance, it was a near thing.
Fortunately, Sabrina brought home a sheaf of flyers today, and is busily circling her choices as I type this. Which is a huge relief, because I was really gonna miss that school.
I am thankful for lots of thing--friends who move 3000 miles away but still live in your heart, family who don't always need to understand you to love you anyway, sunny autumn days (although I thought that the 32 degree humidex was a bit much), High School Musical 2.5....lots of things. This year, however, I find myself focussing my annual sense of gratitude on two things in particular: The blogosphere and universal healthcare.
I know, I know, you're saying, what???? But hear me out.
Despite being one herself, Elisabeth Hasselbeck doesn't seem to have a lot of respect for women. First, she implies that women choose to have children for superficial reasons--in this case the possibility of a $5000 savings bond--and then in practically the next breath she states that "women have abortions for superficial reasons."
Have you heard about this?
Badgermama puts it way better than I ever could in her post, but essentially, a 14 year old student had her wrist broken by a security guard out to keep the campus safe from rogue cake crumbs in the cafeteria. And it's the 14 year old and her mother who have been charged with assault. The rent-a-cop, who felt that extreme force and racial epithets are proper pedagogical practice is still on the job, with the full support of his principal, who feels that the whole incident was blown out of proportion.
You know what was blown all out of proportion? Other than this guy's ego and sense of self-importance, I mean? The Hug Ban. The Hug Ban makes the national news--the INTERNATIONAL news, since I first heard about it on my local radio station--but I have to find this out through random blog surfing. So, education officials seeking to enforce "non contact" policies are held up for public ridicule, but principals and school boards who condone the use of violent measures to subdue students get a free pass.
Does anyone else see something wrong with that?
