It’s funny. When I was a senior in high school dreaming about my future and leafing through college pamphlets, I never, ever predicted that one day I would be a glorified cleaning woman who does a little cooking on the side. I’m not complaining. When I wake up each morning, I have tons of choices. Laundry, vacuum, clean toilets…the list is endless.

Summer vacation definitely adds to my cleaning options as there are wet swimming suits on the floor, sand in sneakers, and my school-aged children are at home contributing to our huge collection of crumbs on my kitchen counters and floor.

I do have chores for my children during summertime but the amount of work they complete doesn’t even come close to equaling the amount of mess they produce. There’s a math equation there somewhere. Something like this:

1 child minus 30 minutes of chores plus 60 million messes=1 tired mother

Don’t despair as I do have a few cleaning tips for busy moms!

1. A 10-minute family clean up. Set the timer and then everyone runs around for 10 minutes picking up stuff, running the vacuum, whatever. It’s amazing what can be accomplished. This is my personal favorite way to make a big impression in a little bit of time. 

2. Use shortcuts. Keep Clorox Disinfecting Wipes or LYSOL Disinfecting Wipes on hand to wipe down sink and toilet.  ( Pledge and Windex also sell wipes for quick cleaning.) Obviously, young children should not handle cleaning wipes but I let my five-year-old “help” with a baby wipe. Always have lots of paper towels on hand. An easy mop to use is the Ready Mop by Clorox. The Magic Eraser is great for getting marks off of your walls.

3. Take care of little messes before they grow. Instead of piling dishes in your sink, stick them right into the dishwasher. Train kids to do this at about four-years-old.  My kids are programmed to put their dishes immediately into dishwasher (still working on husband). Keep the laundry going throughout the day rather than letting it become a huge task. Vacuum everyday at least once. Clean as you go when preparing meals so kitchen never becomes a disaster area.

4. Label shelves in your linen closet and pantry so items always have their place.  This is great for kids when they’re learning to help put things away.

5. Put a damp washcloth in your microwave for 30 seconds. The steam from the washcloth will help loosen any stuck on food particles for an easy wipe down.

6. Keep a piece of aluminum foil on the bottom of your oven so that any drips fall onto the foil rather than into your oven.

7. Train your kids to pick up one mess before they are allowed to go on to their next activity. Baskets, storage bins, labeled shelves all make this easier for kids to handle successfully.

8. Invest in items that make a difference. I finally purchased a heavy-duty vacuum and it is so much better at picking up dirt and dog hair than the cheapo one I lived with before. I sprang for a Kenmore Progressive vacuum ( Consumer Report pick) that runs for about $300. My other recent splurge is a Simple Human trashcan. It makes my kitchen look neater and trash easier to deal with.

Finally, kick your kids outside! I remember my mother forcing me to go outside against my will and I believe those are the summer days I remember most fondly. I certainly don’t remember the hours I wasted watching TV or draped on the couch complaining of being bored. I do remember exploring, swimming, and running around at dusk. 

Best of all, your kids can’t mess up the house when they’re outside!

-Kay

I had a wonderful experience this week. I went to the hair salon! I had my hair cut and highlighted while chatting, sipping on a Diet Coke, and getting an opportunity to mindlessly leaf through a People Magazine. Bliss for any busy mother.

I rarely take the time, like many stay-at-home mothers, to pamper myself. Combine that with the fact that Chrissie, my favorite hairdresser, has been on maternity leave for six months and the end result was a very shaggy look for me.

Thankfully, Chrissie is back. After hugging her and oohing and ahhing over baby pictures, we got down to business. While snipping away, we fell into that familiar “Mommy” conversation about sleeping through the night, breastfeeding, pooping, all the good stuff.

Several times, I bit my tongue rather than blurting out something that might sound patronizing to a new mom. Things like, “You don’t really need all of the Baby Einstein videos.” She seriously is trying to get the entire collection.

Sometimes, I have a hard time remembering what it was like being a new, first time mother. I vaguely remember tracking bowel movements and rigidly keeping to a sleeping schedule. Nothing was ever eaten off of the floor and I could speak knowledgeably on the pros and cons of almost every baby product on the market.

I remember asking my oldest daughter’s pediatrician (we interviewed four while I was still pregnant which is in itself a bit overboard, hindsight) what we needed to have in the house before she was born. He looked at me and said, “diapers, wipes, pajamas and a whole lot of love.” The simplicity of this appealed to me but I still ended up purchasing a bunch of stuff that was totally unnecessary.

So, I’m sitting in Chrissie’s chair feeling kind of smug because I’m oh so experienced at this parenting stuff. From my perspective, it seems foolish to stress about things like taking the pacifier away by a certain age. Believe me, it will happen eventually.

Then I recalled a conversation I’d had with my mother just the previous week. 

My oldest daughter, Emily, has the option of taking an accelerated class (okay, I’m bragging here) this coming school year. I’d love to see her go that route, as I believe it will do her the most good in the long run. However, she’s dying to take Spanish and she doesn’t have room in her schedule for both.

So, this to me is a big deal and I’ve been thinking about it way too much. After discussing it with my mother, probably mind-numbing for her, this was her shared wisdom.

“I’d let her take the Spanish. So many things just don’t matter.”

Now, lest you think my mother is a depressed, self-absorbed kind of woman, nothing could be further from the truth. She is a vibrant, joyful, active woman who has raised six children. She was just having the same reaction to me and my current parenting issues as I had to Chrissie’s baby issues.

Obviously, it’s beneficial to spend time thinking and planning about how best to parent. That is just a result of all that love my pediatrician was referencing. However, many of us need to relax a bit and and remember, “so many things just don’t matter.” Saturate your child with love and attention and the rest will work itself out. Really. That’s what I wanted to tell Chrissie and that’s the message I needed to hear, as well.

By the way, Emily is taking Spanish this fall.

-Kay

When I was a child, my father built a simple two-story treehouse for me and my three sisters. It was all the way back on our three-quarters-of-an-acre property between two skinny South Carolina pines next to the woods behind our house.

The first “floor” of the treehouse was two crude wooden benches nailed into the trees, just enough room for four little girls to have a tea party, while the top tier was a platform of old metal signs, nailed together and supported with beams.

I didn’t care much about the tea party part. The top floor was where I wanted to be.

As it was reached only by climbing the wooden steps nailed to one of the trees, the little kids were prohibited from climbing up, which meant I had it all to myself.

As there were no walls and no roof on the second floor, whenever I lay down up there, it was just me and the trees.

I would lie up there on summer afternoons and watch the spindly tops of the pines waving to me. I would close my eyes and listen to the birds and feel the wind touching me lightly on my bare arms. Lying up there, I floated away with the pines.

For years, I have talked to my husband about building a treehouse for our three children, not a pre-fab treehouse from one of those big box builder stores, but a treehouse like my late father built of scrap lumber and ingenuity.

Only, for the first ten years of marriage, we didn’t own our own home.

When we finally did, the trees weren’t the right kind for building a treehouse in.

Besides, my husband kept reminding me, he’s not a handy man like my father was. A college professor and author, he says the only thing he knows how to do with his hands is type.

Meanwhile, our last child, our youngest, has been asking for a treehouse. This is an 11-year-old child who loves the trees as much as I, who would rather be outside than anywhere, who asked me years ago when we were walking through a deep forest with tall, tall trees whose branches covered us like a canopy, allowing only splashes of sunlight to illuminate the path, “Is this where God lives?”

“If we don’t do it now, we’ll never do it,” I recently told my husband.

A few weeks ago then, my husband asked a carpenter friend whether he thought we could fudge a treehouse in one of our non-treehouse trees.

He showed him a
model that he said might work, one where the treehouse is not actually in the tree, but is supported by the tree. He said he would help my husband while our son is at camp this week and next.

Two weeks. We have two weeks to do this.

It will be interesting in the end to see whether we can pull off this gift for our son before summer’s end. It will be equally interesting to see who the gift is really for. Who will be the one to climb the steps to the treehouse day after day and not come down til dinner?

–Debra-Lynn

Well, it went just wonderfully! We had our Christmas in July party last night and the kids enjoyed themselves so much. The light in their eyes was amazing.

I must confess however, this year was very different from years past. I did not decorate the house and I did not wrap presents. We DID exchange gifts, we DID listen to Christmas music and we DID have pizza. You see, the plain and simple fact is that we ran out of time this year.

We’ve been crazy busy, more than usual. So, some things had to be modified to accommodate all the demands. But only a Scrooge would cancel Christmas, right?

So the new plan this year was a bit simpler. We picked up the kids from the sitter after work, playing Christmas music in the car of course (this was a no-brainer!). We sang Christmas songs all the way to Toys R Us.

We handed each kid $20 to spend as they please. I can’t be entirely sure, but I think the opportunity to spend money however they wanted was a magical experience for them!

As they clinched their very own $20 bill in their little hands, they scoured the shelves to figure out what they could get. Frankly, having to choose based on limited funds was a great lesson. They both REALLY thought about what to purchase and thought about it very carefully.

After searching and thinking and evaluating and walking back and forth, my son chose a dart tag game and my daughter chose a  Barbie and a Hanna Montana shirt. There was no whining or complaining, there were no demands for additional purchases. There were just two little ones thinking very, very hard on how to shop for a great present. They were proud of themselves for making great choices.

We were so very proud, too. They both brought their gifts up to the counter and paid the cashier all by themselves. They used their manners and were very excited that they got change back!

My heart melted when my daughter offered to buy the pizza for the family with her 3 dollars in change. THAT felt good. What did my husband and I get for Christmas in July? BIG kisses. THAT felt good too.

As SpongeBob always sings, it was the “best day ever!”

- Lisa

My husband and I, who have had children in the house for 20 years, are preparing to participate in a grand experiment: As our children depart for various summer camps next week, we will be left for NINE DAYS to our own adult devices in our own adult house.

For the first time.

Ever.

Hm.

“We could have wild sex all over the house,” says he.

“I knew you’d say that,” I say.

“We could work a lot,” says I.

“Bo-ring,” he says.

“We could go on vacation ourselves,” he says.

“We just got back from vacation,” say I.

So what then? What do two parents do when they suddenly find it unnecessary to nag about the milk being left out, the door being left open and the phone ringing off the hook? How do adults spend their time when there’s nobody to drive to soccer and piano and the local pool, when there is no teenager to shush at 11 at night, no pasta to boil, nor soccer games to watch, no PlayStation time to monitor, no play dates to set up, nor pizza to order, no teenage emotions to dodge and not a lick of peanut butter in sight?

The Only Life We Know

Most of what my husband and I know of our lives together is embodied in all these things, as I got pregnant four months after we were married, and soon enough came Baby 2, then Baby 3, as we began dragging all over the country during a particular bad job market for college professors.

With no extended family nearby, we learned very early on that wherever we went, so did our children: In 21 years of marriage, I can count on both hands the nights we’ve had away from them. We’ve never even been in our own home overnight without them, except for that one night when they all happened to be invited to sleepovers and my husband and I both unfortunately happened to be in really bad moods. We spent the whole night arguing.

So OK, we don’t quite know how to do this. So first of all, that needs to be OK. It’s not like we’re the kind of parents who will look at each other after the kids leave and say, “What? I’m married to YOU?”

“Don’t forget this was suddenly thrust upon us,” I am reassuring my husband. “Don’t forget we found out only recently they’re all going to be gone at the same time. Besides, hello, we still have an 11-year-old at home. We’re not supposed to ready for this.”

“Yeah!” he says. “The real Empty Nest is at least seven years away.”

“This is just an experiment,” I say.

“Yeah,” says he.

So maybe we’ll spend our nights sobbing ourselves to sleep over the impending loss of our brood.

Or maybe the very first night we’re alone, we’ll go to the Latin salsa club I’ve been wanting to go to in the big neighboring city and not worry about what time we get home.

Hm.

Maybe the next night we’ll go out to dinner and not have to worry about what the kids had to eat. Maybe the night after that we won’t even cook dinner. Maybe we won’t cook dinner for nine whole nights.

Maybe we’ll end up reading books at night without a single distraction. We’ll go to movies without worrying who needs a ride where while we’re gone. Maybe we’ll take walks around the neighborhood after dinner and when we come home, marvel at the quiet.

Maybe, by the time these nine days draw to a close, I will have to remind myself: This was just an experiment. This was just an experiment. We’ve still got seven years to go.

- Debra-Lynn

P.S. Check out  psychologytoday.com for tips on negotiating the Empty Nest Syndrome.

I was at the storied Santa Monica Pier the other day, basking in the smog-enhanced neon pinks, oranges, and reds of another L.A. sunset. Crowds were thronging, seagulls hungrily circled overhead, and the crash of the ocean lent a certain timeless majesty to the whole scene. As I let a bite of cotton candy burn my maw with its intense sweetness, I surveyed the scene, thrilled with life, society, and nature.

Then I caught glimpse of a small, almost unnoticeable detail of the scene that utterly stomped on the glory of the moment. A teen, around 14, sat in the middle of this buzzing, glowing, thronging scene at the edge of this magnificent continent, completely oblivious to all the goings-on around him; he was absorbed in a furious game of some sort on his Nintendo DS.

A million explanations for this silent affront, to all I’d been grateful for in the preceding moment, sprang to mind: overstimulation, excessive media consumption, agoraphobic parents. Maybe he just lived across the street and this majesty was old news that played out for him dog day after day. I mean, the kid was sitting not 10 yards away from a video arcade, the most social or public way to enjoy interactive entertainment, in ways not available in the home, and still, there he was, obliviously button-mashing his little heart out.

Either way, my mind started down this borderline-Luddite train of thought; just weeks before, I’d been at a relatively fancy restaurant, and saw a typical LA family of three sit down at a table adjacent. The kid promptly whipped out her Sidekick and proceeded to spend the next four courses greedily gulping down the Facebook drama-du-jour.

I think I just missed the cut-off as far as growing up with ubiquitous personal tech. Even the original, tan, brick-sized Game Boy came around too late for me to have lugged it around gooey-eyed. But the fundamental change in the generation after mine was said ubiquity. It bears serious consideration in the realm of parenting.

I don’t think any norms or standards have arisen, but parents should really try to institute some kind of rules on a case-by-case basis. Personally, I never accept a cell phone call when talking face-to-face with someone. I chew out any and all friends who have the gall to answer theirs while at the table. Texting while having another conversation? So disrespectful.

All this comes down to an inevitable clash between evolved, millennia-long traditions of human interaction and a whole new still-emergent way to connect. It’ll likely be a few decades or more before anything akin to social norms emerge, as the tech will continually evolve for some time, but that doesn’t mean we can’t start actively humanizing it now and setting flexible boundaries that work to keep a modicum of decorum alive…

On that note, meditate on this apt  video from George Carlin, an amazing watcher of modern society.     

My husband, an illustrator, attended The California Institute of the Arts 15 years ago to learn how to animate. Each student had to create a “short” or a cartoon as a final project.  Many were based on somewhat sophomoric humor. We are talking about a bunch of 20-something-year-old guys. Not that they seem to be so different at 40, but that’s not my point. The short, “I’m Sorry Man,” was no exception to the rule as far as humor goes, but it was my favorite. Other than my husband’s, of course.

In the cartoon, I’m Sorry Man (or ISM) is this polite, mild-mannered, kind person until he does something terrible. For example, he might pick up a rock and hurl it at an elderly grandmother. For no reason. Or, he might intentionally ram his shopping cart into a priest. After each horrible incident, he transforms into a Superhero who sincerely and profusely apologizes.

“I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I’ll never do that again.”

The victim almost has no choice other than to mutter, “No problem. Don’t worry about it.” Or something along those lines. Anything else seems ungracious. After all, a heartfelt apology was offered. 

Sometimes, I feel as ISM has taken up residence in my home. My kids seem to have the same understanding that any action should be immediately forgiven if an apology is given. If the victim is still angry, they love to self righteously state, “I said I was sorry.”

Thankfully, they haven’t injured any old ladies or anything like that but these are the types of things they do have to apologize for. Frequently.

• Teasing, teasing, and more teasing
• Making messes
• “Borrowing” items without asking
• Forgetting about homework assignment until bedtime

You get the picture.

My three children have all totally mastered the art of looking sincerely at me with their big, beautiful eyes and giving a convincing, “I’m sorry, Mom.” Sometimes, they throw in a hug. They’re that good.

How to respond?  Here are a few suggestions.

• Apologies are good. We all know adults who seem unable to apologize.  Encourage apologies in which they give a sincere “I’m sorry for “fill in the blank.” Make sure that your child understands exactly what they are apologizing for. Be as specific as possible.

• Don’t respond with “It’s all right.” The behavior was not all right. An appropriate response would be, “I’m glad that you’re sorry.”

• Have consequences beyond the apology. If you can, brainstorm a logical consequence. For example, if your flowers are trampled, your child can spend some time weeding. If something is borrowed without permission, the victim can choose an item from the perpetrator to use for the day.

• Another tactic is to ask your child what an appropriate consequence would be. Children are often very astute about coming up with suggestions. Strangely, they are often too strict with themselves.

My youngest recently mixed all of her sister’s new Play-doh together to make one massive gray brown lump. She apologized through her tears to her sister before suggesting we never let her use Play-doh again. While tempting, we opted to punish her by having her use money from her piggy bank to buy more to replace what she’d ruined. When she saw her sister’s new, multicolored playdoh compared to the lump that now belonged to her, she truly felt remorse.

If we stopped at the apology or even after a consequence which was either unenforceable (no Play-doh for life) or unrelated (no dessert), I don’t believe the lesson would have been internalized.

I’m Sorry Man is no match for Super Mama!

-Kay

My baby is going to camp.

For two weeks. Wilderness camp. 550 miles away from home and just south of a place called the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, which I believe is very close to the Arctic Circle.
 
This is a camp where they have “polar bear swims” at 6 in the morning in 57-degree water. This is a camp where kids learn to sail across a lake that is two miles wide and 52 fathoms deep, whatever a fathom is. This is a camp where they have a ropes course as tall as the Empire State Building. Well, maybe as tall as a three-story Victorian. But you get the point. Those ropes are really up there.
 
Benjie, who is 11, assures me this is a good thing.
Although it’s his first time away at any kind of overnight camp, he fared really well on the little online “Is Your Child Ready for Summer Camp” quiz parents can take for their kids at parenthood.com.

Questions included:
- “How many nights has your child spent away from home without you?”
- “Is your child good at making friends?”
- “Which of the following best describes your child’s personality?” (Choices were “shy and anxious,” “slow to warm,” or “always ready for action,” although I’m guessing that first personality type would have nixed the need for the test from the get-go.)
 
The more I think about it, the more I recognize this particular kid is cut out for an outdoor camp full of boys in sneakers and dirty T-shirts: He’s a stud Four-Square player (a game campers play 24-7 when they aren’t climbing the Empire State Building or sailing across a great big lake). He’s also a crack Ultimate Frisbee player, which will take him far in the outdoor world of testosterone. As for his ability to take care of his own personal needs, he’s pretty good at brushing his teeth as long as he’s got one of those tootbrushes that plays “ School of Rock.” He doesn’t wet the bed.
 
Besides – this is the real kicker — his 19-year-old brother is going to be up there with him. His brother is going to be a counselor, same as his dad was, same as three of his cousins on that side of the family. The name “Hook” is even etched in the cedar walls of some boathouse down by the water. Keep up the tradition and all that.

So then if he’s ready for camp, the one question remains: 
Am I?
 
I’m thinking maybe they need another quiz on that camper-ready site. The quiz would be titled: “A Test For Mothers of Kids Going Away For the First Time For an Extended Period Especially When That Child is the Last of the Mother’s Children to Want Tucking in At Night.”
 
The questions would read something like:
 
Do you think it’s time you let go of the fact that you no longer have babies in the house?
 
Can you be okay with having no one to say night-night prayers to?
 
Do you realize your child is 11-years-old and on the cusp of growing a large Adam’s Apple, losing his baby voice and replacing the No. 1 Mom in his life with No. 1 Girlfriend?
 
There’s something to be said for developmental progress here – my child’s and mine. In fact, maybe it’s time I let go. Before he lets go of me.

 - Debra-Lynn

I walked around in public today wearing only my swimming suit. Was I having a nightmare? No, it was just another summer day since my family bought season passes to a local waterpark! We go at least once per week and now that I’ve been there several times, I’ve picked up a few parenting tips that I’d like to pass along in order to make your waterpark outing a success.

Before purchasing tickets, do some research and you can probably save some money. Many discount clubs ( Sam’s Club, BJ’s) offer discounted tickets. Likewise, your local and regional retailers (your grocery store or pharmacy) may do the same. Call your local waterpark and ask. Many major credit card companies also offer price breaks for entertainment.  Also, if you’re a member of a credit union or AAA, check to see if they sell lower priced tickets.

My family opted to buy season passes - which pay for themselves if you go more than twice. If you are traveling much this summer, you may also want to check out a pass from a major park chain such as Six Flags. That way, as you travel, you can hit different parks. If you opt for a season pass, it is sometimes a better deal if you buy online. By purchasing in this way, we got free towels and free parking. Not a huge deal, but nice.

Once your tickets are in your hot little hands, here are some tips I’ve learned over the last few weeks.

• Have your children wear water shoes. The first time we went this year, my youngest came home with scraped up toes. Apparently, she’d dragged them on the “lazy river” while floating but they didn’t bother her until the damage was done. Ouch!!

• Pick a meeting place for older kids. We call this home base. We load up a chair with our towels, bags, and snacks. I allow my older children to go in pairs to various attractions. They have to stick together like glue and check back with me after each ride. If I’m not at home base, they must sit and wait for me to return.  Otherwise, we could keep missing each other.

• For younger children, discuss what to do if separated. At our waterpark, I instruct my five-year-old to tell a “worker” that she can’t find her Mommy. Point out what the workers look like. I also write my cell phone number in permanent marker on her hand.
 
• Train each child to carry their own towel. We use the free ones we received (not our good ones) and each child is responsible for carrying it in and out. One less thing for me to worry about.

• Take bottled water and make sure they drink it. Before going, I write each child’s initial on the cover with permanent marker to limit germ sharing.

• Consider taking an ice cream break. We try to do this to get out of the sun for a few minutes, and reapply sunscreen, plus it lets me get a read on how everyone is doing.  Are we up for another few hours or are the kids fading? If you prefer to bring your own snacks, bring some that don’t mush easily in your kids’ soggy little hands. Pretzel sticks and apples work well.

• Get to the park either early (before 11 a.m.) or later in the afternoon (after 3 p.m.). Mid-day is the busiest and the hottest.

• If you forget something, ask. Our waterpark has swim diapers, sunscreen, and bandages, among other things.

• Buy a picture. Our waterpark has roaming Kodak photographers taking pictures, and near the exit you can view them and purchase, if worthy. We bought one of my kids underwater, hair floating, eyes sparkling, and cheeks puffed out. How cool and what a fun memory!  Remember, you’re not just filling a summer day, you’re building your family and making memories.

So, have a great time. As much as you are able, disregard the fact that you are exposing body parts that if you’re like me, you work hard on keeping hidden most of the year. As I was laughing under a “waterfall” with my five-year-old, I felt thankful that those body parts still all work relatively well and that I was able to splash around with my daughter.  That’s really what it’s all about.

-Kay

Here’s a fun idea that we’ve been doing for several years. We have a Christmas in July party with our kids. No, I don’t make a turkey and all the fixings – we order pizza. But all the other stuff is the same.

We started this a few years ago because we didn’t take a family vacation and wanted to do something special for our family. It’s a fun way to celebrate family during the summer (and get the kids a little something special that we couldn’t find/get/afford at Christmastime).

We decorate a room in the house, play Christmas music and exchange gifts (only one per person). The kids make their wish lists (which is great way to practice their letter writing). It’s so nice to do this with the kids when it ISN’T Christmas time – you can really learn a lot about what the kids like to do (not just the Christmas marketing).

Try a Christmas in July party (or Kwanzaa in June, or Hanukkah in August, whatever your family does). It is so much fun to do with the kids and – listen carefully parents –
• Behavior modification: This kind of party can be very useful for behavior modification in the middle of the summer.

• Nice distraction from the every day: A planned family party like this is something wonderful for the kids to look forward to (you know when the kids are bouncing off the walls).

• The price is right: Loads of retailers have items on sale during the summer or you can shop right after Christmas during the “mega-sales” and store them for later. (Honestly, I tend to “over-buy” at Christmas. So when I’m wrapping, I put a few things aside for the Christmas in July party).

• Take a new perspective: The dinosaur toy your son didn’t get for Christmas or the bubble making machine the kids asked for last week can become a magical surprise for your family. You’re not “just getting them stuff” – the “stuff” becomes special because it is a Christmas present.

• Big fun: This is a really easy and fun way to celebrate being together.

Happy Holidays! Let me know how it goes.

- Lisa