Last summer my husband and I were at the playground talking about pre-school with another couple. Our son had been accepted into a popular dual-language program in the public school system while their son had been accepted to a competitive montessori school. The couple expressed surprise that their 2 1/2-year-old son had been accepted because he was several months younger than his future classmates. As they spoke, I turned to look at their son who was sitting on the soft rubber surface, chalk in hand, writing the entire alphabet in a circle around him. I turned to the couple and said, "THAT is why your son has been accepted." 

As blown away as I was with that little boy, so intent on writing his letters, I felt a quiet disappointment. Three-year-old Monkey had learned the alphabet song, loved playing with plastic letters we had at home and knew a majority of the alphabet. However, he showed little interest in displaying the mastery he did possess, much less learning more letters. I would often go over the alphabet with Monkey, showing him letters one by one, but it was frustrating for two reasons: 1) He would pretend he didn't recognize letters that he knew well. 2) I could see that he was not grasping certain ideas because he was just not interested. I didn't need Monkey to be a genius, I just wanted him to keep up with his peers. 

This frustration brought up many feelings of doubt about my and my husband's role in helping Monkey learn. I knew a Dad that reviewed flashcards with his son every morning. Should we? I knew another kid who learned the alphabet from watching television and using apps, but we allow very little TV and have no kiddie apps. Should I push Monkey harder to write and read? If so, how would I make a three year old focus on something he didn't want to learn?

If I consider Monkey's peers, I have to remind myself that no one brags about their kid not knowing the alphabet so the people I'm comparing Monkey too are largely a self-selected bunch. When I voiced my concerns to my friend Carrie, whose son started reading as a newly-minted-four-year-old, she reminded me that my son had plenty of other strengths. In Carrie's son's case, he had a huge interest in reading and was the one who led his mom into teaching him to recognize letters and sound out words. 

Which brings me back to what Monkey enjoys. He loves to listen to stories and have books read to him. He'll sit still for hours if someone reads him a book. He has an enormous imagination and can get lost in the complex scenarios he creates for his trains, his cars and, more recently, his firefighters. He likes to paint, has a great throwing arm, a solid soccer kick and he is an expert superhero. 

More recently, Monkey has (finally?) developed an interest in letters, signing Valentine's Day cards for his teachers and a birthday card for his Dad. I bought an activity book he loves to do and a white board booklet where he'll happily trace letters and numbers by himself. I'm learning that I have to meet Monkey where he is. Encourage him to do what he likes and introduce him to what I'd like him to learn in a matter that aligns with that. You know what else helps? This article by a mother whose six-year-old son doesn't yet read. Even better, she included this guide of  
When Should Kids Learn to Read, Write, and Do Math? which made me realize I should stop worrying and focus on my ultimate goal of encouraging Monkey to love learning at his pace and in his own way. 

It's another day at home and I am again staring at the corner of our living room where we keep the kids' toys. I've been struggling with ways to clear it out somewhat so it doesn't resemble the mountain of toys it is now. I took a huge pile of stuffed animals to the Salvation Army a few weeks ago and put some of the kids' lesser used toys in a closet for rotation, but the soccer balls, plastic food items, school buses and train tracks keep piling up all the same.

With Monkey's birthday only a few weeks away--and only a small celebration planned--it's likely he will have a few more toys to add to his collection so it's time for a change. Part of my reluctance to part with toys is fear that he or Munchkin will miss out. I know that's silly because real fear has nothing to do with toys. But by missing out, I mean taking away a favorite toy before it has a chance to become favored. For example, for Monkey's first Christmas, my older sister gave him a three-tier-garage. It was big and Monkey initially had no interest in it so I wasn't sure if we should keep it. Within a few months though, that garage was used for hours a day and, three years later, is still used regularly by both kids. What if one of the toys I take away is Munchkin's garage? What if one of the toys will be developmentally perfect for reaching her next milestone? What if the kids start asking for something that--palm to forehead--I just gave away.

Yet, I know the truth. I've given away boxes of toys and the one thing Monkey noticed was missing was an actual cardboard box we had converted to a boat. (Okay, he has asked for couple other toys, but usually months after the fact.) The one time I Iet him see I was loaning a toy to a friend he got very upset and asked about it for three days but not since. I can't even remember half the toys I've given away. I'm working on teaching Monkey to appreciate what he has and this birthday might be the ideal opportunity to finally have him swap his old toys for new ones instead of just adding to the pile. 

I've been mulling the idea of filling it up a basket with stuff the kids don't use as often as I wish they did and hiding it in my closet. I've heard kids play differently when they have less toys, so maybe this would be the test. Supporting that theory is a beautiful exhibit online showing kids all over the world and their favorite toys. The photographer, Gabriele Galimberti, said that the kids everywhere had similar toys and their favorites were often chosen for similar reasons (a couple thought that their toy dinosaurs protected them from danger). However, he said that the richest children were the most possessive and the poorest were much more willing to share the two or three toys they had. When I consider what I want for my kids, I don't actually want them to have the most toys, I want them to have the most compassion. Tonight, after the kids are in bed, I am going to try the experiment. I'll fill up the basket with those toys and see if they notice. If not, the kids aren't the only ones who will have learned a lesson. 

This morning, as I shuffled to the kitchen to finish packing the kids' lunches, I scrolled through Facebook and saw this article from The Atlantic, The Decline of Marriage and the Rise of Unwed Mothers: An Economic Mystery. It states that while the average age of marriage is rising (which benefits college-educated women), the average age of first births is not rising at the same pace. Thus, 58 percent of first births in lower-middle-class households are now to unmarried women. 

The article in itself is not groundbreaking, but I found a few things that were grating, starting with this paragraph: 

Once upon a time, the typical marriage, involved special roles for the husband and wife. He would work. She would stay home. It was [an] efficient arrangement in which opposites attracted. Men who wanted to be executives would marry women who wanted to be housewives. And, since almost half of women had no independent earnings 40 years ago, there were a lot of women who just wanted to work at home and raise a family.

The tone used comes off as patronizing. Was the law of "opposites attract" really at play here? Was the arrangement truly efficient? Did all men really want to be executives? What about men who wanted to be mechanics, gardeners and artists? Did all women really want to be housewives? Did they have much of a say in the matter since further education wasn't necessarily an acceptable option? Didn't some of those women want to be authors, retailers and doctors? The author says women had no independent earnings, but by looking at the number of women working counted in the 1920 census, it's likely that by the 1970s, (the "40 years ago" the author refers to) women were not only raising a family but also bringing in some kind of income, even if it wasn't enough for a whole family to survive on.  

The prior paragraph that purportedly solves the mystery of increasing births to unmarried women identifies these three factors:  1) The changing meaning of marriage in America; (2) declining wages for low-skill men; and (3) the declining costs of being a single person

I understand all three factors and agree that they play a role, but what about other realities at play? We all know unmarried women were getting pregnant decades (and centuries) ago, but we also know that women were often either forced to abort the child, give up the child or marry the father. Isn't it possible that women were getting pregnant at a similar rate as now, but because they married or gave up the child, were not counted as unmarried mothers? I wonder if all those forced marriages proved to be good for the couple or beneficial to the children. Did those marriages contribute to a higher divorce rate 20 years later? Isn't there a chance that, in some cases, it's better for happy single woman to raise a child than it is for an unhappily married woman to raise a child? 

The decision for many women to not marry is not necessarily as cerebral as the article implies when it says, "technology makes it cheaper and easier than ever to be single. It makes marrying a financial unstable man even more risky." Are the 20-something women not marrying these men because of their financial situation or are their other issues like the men's educational status and job opportunities that make women hesitate? 

In the Wall Street Journal article that The Atlantic's piece is based on, one of the authors is quoted as such, "Kay Hymowitz asserts that women in their 20's should seek stability in marriage before childbirth" and that brings me to the bigger question about all this data. Where are the men? Shouldn't men in their 20s seek stability too? Don't men also decide whether to marry before or after a child is conceived? Where is the research about men and the children they've fathered? What about men who co-parent their children or who raise their children alone? I realize that there are few men who raise their children solo, but how are they faring?

After last year's campaign season, I'm tired of hearing the words  "unwed mother" and "single mother" thrown around as curse words. If anything, the parent who sticks around to raise a child in difficult circumstances (and being a single parent is usually not easy!) should be praised, not disavowed. Yes, it's better if a child has two committed parents. It's also better if those same parents receive sex education, access to birth control, affordable college education and the support of social services that many politicians won't fund. 

Maybe it's good there is so much research going into studies on child-bearing and marital age, but I wonder what would happen if all the money devoted to creating headlines about the decline of marriage was instead devoted to the increase of social safety nets. Those nets could help single moms like this one who didn't even have a bed to sleep in until a fellow mom and blogger stepped in. Without those headlines, maybe people would be less apt to judge unwed moms so harshly and instead treat them with the compassion offered to widowed parents who are also raising children singlehanded. 

We all know it takes two so let's start addressing the unwed fathers and stop pretending that marriages of yore are the answer.

Last week I read a post called Dear Mom on the iPhone taking phone-wielding moms to task for not catching their kids special moments in the playground: their daughter twirling around, their son yelling, "watch this" and the baby gurgling in the swing. At first, I thought the author made a good point.  

After all, even though I watch my kids pretty carefully, I am guilty of using my phone at the playground. Munchkin is at an age where she needs constant supervision, but Monkey is often off and running, making new friends, and pretending to be superman. The only time he needs a hand is when he needs me to buy his pretend ice cream or to be the bad guy in his Superman fantasy. 

There were several responses to the "Dear Mom" post that defended parents using their phones, some with dramatic examples which, while accurate of some situations, probably not the standard reason most parents are texting, emailing, tweeting or just plain reading their phones.

I have silently judged moms who were on their phones--or not paying attention to their kids in general--but only (okay, mostly) if they're harassing mine. I was conflicted the day an older kid was persistently trying to take a toy from 3-year-old Monkey while his mother was on the phone for an extended period of time. She eventually apologized because she had been on a conference call. With so much debate about phone etiquette and proper parenting techniques, I asked myself, "Does she get credit for taking her son to the playground while working or does she merit shame for not taking him home and ignoring him in the privacy of her own home?

Do we judge or not judge? If we are going to judge, why limit ourselves to judging those at the playground? How about the moms who are not even outside with their kids? Where the heck are the dads in this article? If they're at work, they're likely in front of a gadget all day instead of being with their kids. 

In order to clarify such nonsense--after all it's impossible to judge properly without inventing, er, knowing the whole story--I've come up with a helpful hierarchy and point system of how to best judge the parent standing between you and your superior standing as a parent. 

Let's start by judging a parent who has taken their kids outside. 100 points is the maximum number of points, but since no parent is perfect (everyone knows that!) the best a parent can do is get 99 points.

Points awarded to a parent outside with child when the parent is...
99 points - attentive, but not policing child
90 points - reading a hard copy of a book/magazine or chatting with friends
85 points - glancing at phone
80 points - reading important articles/books on phone, ( 5 point bonus if they're about parenting)
75 points - answering work e-mails that allow parent to be with the child
65 points - answering work e-mails that don't need an immediate response
50 points - reading Facebook or Twitter

If a parent is indoors, they're clearly not as invested in their children and thus the maximum points awarded is 49.

Points awarded to a parent indoors with child when the parent is...
49 points - cooking/cleaning with kids
45 points - cooking/cleaning while ignoring kids
40 points - reading hard copy of book/magazine or chatting with friends
30 points - on the computer/phone while ignoring kids
25 points - kid is watching educational TV
15 points - Kid is watching TV/playing video games

Judgement being what it is, 20 additional points are given to single parents, and 40 points are given to men, because we all know when fathers do the same thing mothers do, they get a lot more praise.

There you have it. Now when you're looking down your nose at a mom looking down her nose at the phone, you can easily calculate exactly how deficient her parenting is. 

Tune in next week when I create a point system for Dear Dad in the Recliner.

I have several friends who are newly pregnant or new moms and since I've aquired soooooo much wisdom these last four years, I think it's time for some parenting tips, Good Mom vs Bad Mom style. 

1) Pregnancy is really great unless it's not. I know some women love being pregnant, feel wonderful for nine months and have that "pregnancy glow," but I secretly think that the "pregnancy glow" is code for looking tired because you can't sleep and have to get up to use the bathroom 18 times a day. 

2) Your baby bump will probably be a baby bus by your ninth month and that's normal. I gained less than 30lbs during my first pregnancy and I was frequently asked if I was having twins. The askers thought it was hilarious. I did not.

3) You will look six months pregnant immediately after you give birth, no matter how well you ate. Considering the latest in pop culture, maybe I should name this the "Jessica Rule."  Unless you are Jessica Alba, try not to be as surprised as Jessica Simpson that the baby weight doesn't disappear when the baby comes out. 

4) Breastfeeding is really easy and really hard. I had a pretty easy time breastfeeding both of my kids: They latched on well, they ate quickly and ate a lot, but it was still trying and painful the first few weeks. It takes effort and dedication to breastfeed when you're tired and recovering and--despite that dedication and effort--sometimes breastfeeding just doesn't work out. If you decide to (or have to) stop nursing, it doesn't mean you're not a dedicated mother. It's better for a baby to have a sane mother feeding a baby formula than it is to have a frustrated, exhausted mother resenting breastfeeding. Most of my generation was brought up on formula and we all turned out okay. 

5) Sleep when the baby sleeps. Sure, everyone says that, but who wants to go to sleep at 5pm? You do, because your cutie-pie is going to be up all night and you'll need some rest to handle it. I resisted sleeping sometimes because I wanted to be with my husband and visiting family, but in reality, I needed the sleep. If you want to take good care of your family, you have to take care of yourself first.

6)Mom is in charge of input (milk) Dad is in charge of output (diapers). This rule set up a very clear division of labor the first few weeks after delivery. I nursed Monkey and my husband, who had never before changed a diaper, changed almost every single one of Monkey's diapers for the first 10 days. It bought me time when Monkey woke up an hour (I could have sworn it was a minute) after I had fed him in the middle of the night and it gave my husband a task that allowed him to talk to and get familiar with his new little boy.

7) Put Dad in charge of bathtime. Many dads love their newborns, but don't really know what to do with them. A lot of moms need a break, but don't know which task to delegate. Enter baby bathtime!  After that last little piece of umbilical cord falls off, give Dad the task of bath time every evening. It's a concrete task with simple steps: undress the baby, put the baby in warm water and gently clean him off, cuddle and dress the baby. Although a majority of TV commercials imply all men are incapable of managing their children, they can handle bathtime all by themselves. 

8) You have a mother's instinct. Use it. Even if you've never been into kids before or held a baby in your life, you have a mother's instinct and you should trust it. That doesn't mean you'll know what the baby wants every time it cries, but it does mean you'll figure it out. If someone is telling you your kids aren't sick when you think they are, find out more. If you think your child needs to an extra hug, give it. You--and your partner--will slowly figure out what is best by listening to your heart and your gut. 

9) You will feel like a pack mule for the next three to five years. First, you find yourself hauling a bulging diaper bag, then their push toys they no longer want to push and soon you'll be able to balance two kids and the 96 items you didn't know you needed from Target. This might only be true for city moms who walk all over the place, but I think suburban moms probably carry their share of backpacks and leftover goldfish snack containers too. 

10) You have the right to change your mind. Every day. Parenting is about evolving. One day you feel great about going back to work and two months later you decide it's not for you, that's okay. You tried cloth diapers and decided you didn't like them? Switch to disposable. You're against sleep training until surviving ten days straight without sleep? Go ahead and sleep train. Do what you think is best until you decide otherwise and remember that the person who will judge your change of heart most harshly is you. 

11) Mommy wars don't exist in real life. I belong to a mother's group that has 700 members and hosts discussions (in person and on our message boards) about every single hot-topic known to parenting: breastfeeding vs bottle, to sleep train or not, working full time vs part time vs staying home. I can count on ONE hand the number of times that members have been judgmental of another mother in their comments in the last four years. I've had nothing but good experiences with other moms and can't think of an instance where I felt publicly judged, even in cases of vastly different parenting styles. There have been, however, countless instances where mothers have received help, toys, food, babysitting and advice from other moms, some of whom didn't even know each other. Ignore the media, and believe in the goodness of your fellow parents. 

I have a secret. I hate little kid's birthday parties. I don't hate birthdays and I don't mind celebrating a child's milestones, but I really dislike the birthday parties that make you feel like you're running a gauntlet from the toy store to the kid-centered party place, choking down pizza and racing to sing happy birthday before either your kid or the birthday kid bursts into tears. 

Growing up in the midwest, most birthday parties were held either at home, out in the backyard or maybe the YMCA. There were no hired musicians, no designer cakes--unless you count the cakes from Meijers--and I'm pretty sure there were no goodie bags. However on the east coast, kids--including one-year-olds, who won't remember a thing--have birthday parties at kiddie gyms, indoor play centers or in entertainment rooms in high-rise buildings with hired musicians, clowns or artists. 

For all my dislike of these head-spinning birthday parties, the reality is that apartments on the east coast don't have the space to accommodate more than a few kids at a time. There are no basements and backyards are a rarity, so parents have few alternatives to renting a place for their kid's birthdays. I think my view on them is slightly tainted because Monkey has a shy streak that kept him from really enjoying big parties until this year. While Monkey was hiding out by my husband or me, other kids were having fun, even if their parents were a little peaked after chasing their kid around jungle gyms.
 
Believe it or not, there is another aspect of birthday parties that brings out the Grinch in me:  the abundance of gifts and goodies bags. I like presents and I like buying them for kids I know well, but I always feel weird standing in the toy aisle picking out gifts for kids when I don't even know what their interests are. I appreciate being invited to such parties, but when I see a pile of 40 boxed gifts sitting on a table, I wonder if the kid will even have a chance to use all of them before he gets too old to enjoy them. A lot of invites recommend making a donation to a charitable cause instead of buying a present. I used to buy a gift but now, after four years of gift-shopping, I have started making donations in the birthday-child's name instead. Every $25 I donate can make an impact on an organization, instead of an impact on a bulging toy-chest. 

Speaking of overflowing toy-chests, I'd also like to say goodbye to goodie bags. It's a sweet gesture that kids love, but 20 minutes after we get home, those stickers and crayons are strewn on the floor and promptly forgotten. (Forgotten by everyone but Munchkin, who is trying to shove stickers and every last tiny goodie bag item into her mouth.)  There is nothing wrong with giving stickers, crayons, play-doh, it's just that we get too many to use which is sad considering how many kids out there could actually use them. I know there is a cycle to giving goodie bags since "everyone" gives goodie bags,  "everyone else" feels pressured to give one too, but for the love of trees and all the fuel it takes to import most of those trinkets, I wish people would stop giving in. 

Of course, motherhood is all about teaching lessons, and not just to the kids. This year Monkey has developed an interest in his birthday. A HUGE interest. A when-is-it-going-to-be-MY-birthday interest. Which, of course, means it's time to have a party for him. (He's only had family celebrations and one playdate-type party with cake.) I could end up renting one of those venues, but most likely I'll do something at home or outside. I've also decided that instead of buying presents, friends can choose to donate to a cause our family supports or a cause they support. I'll also ask Monkey to choose his favorite book to give to his friends in lieu of goodie bags. The fun part will be for Monkey to be with his friends, get a little attention (not too much or he'll hide!), a few gifts from his parents and one big wet kiss from little Munchkin. What more could he want?

What's your personal belief on birthday parties? Bigger is better and more fun for everyone? Or are my kids going to be therapy for not getting enough presents?