For as long as I can remember, I have enjoyed reading advice columns. In the early days it was Dear Abby and Ann Landers and now it's Dear Prudence and Carolyn Hax.  They give sensible thoughtful answers that often give me insight to other people's realities and experiences. Sometimes they also remind me to withhold judgment with a smack upside the head, as was the case when I started to read Carolyn Hax's live chat back in May about a SAHM who has a full-time nanny. A reader wrote the following: 

Any advice for a stay at home mom who gets a lot of flak from a lot of people because I employ a full-time nanny? No, I'm not lazy and I don't have any delusions that I'm too good to change diapers or anything; I'm just very lucky that we are comfortable enough to be able to afford help, and I truly believe that I'm a better mom because I'm not frazzled all the time. But when I say that, people invariably hear something different, and their judgments are harsh. It's gotten to the point where I feel ashamed when the nanny is outside with the kids because I know the neighbors can see her.

I sort of snickered at the post, thinking, "Why does she have a full-time nanny?"  And then came Carolyn's response: 

Wow. Tell them you're doing your part to create jobs in a down economy, conjure a vivid image of yourself flipping them a monster bird, have yourself a Mona Lisa smile, and carry on. 

Followed by this other reader's more direct answer: 
To the Mom with the Nanny: the attitudes of the people who judge you are PRECISELY the kind of thing that keep stressed-past-the-limit parents from getting necessary help. You may be erring on the side of over-caring for your children, but I'd call that the right side. And I wish I could smack the people who perpetuate the idea that needing help with your children makes you abnormal.

And just like that, I was smacked upside the head. These women were right. Every parent could use some help and maybe even a full-time nanny.  A full-time nanny would give me time to cook a week's worth of meals at one sitting instead of squeezing cooking in two days a week.  It would mean a cleaner house. It might even mean a nap for the anti-napper, Monkey, because there'd be another set of hands to read to him and get him to sleep while I put Munchkin down. It could mean more patience and more (not less) attention from me. After all, if the nanny spent time with one child, I could focus entirely on the other. A nanny could, in fact, lead to better parenting, and isn't that what we all want to offer our children? 

I think I, like a lot of parents, carry an image of what "real" parenting means. We don't want to be like those wealthy mothers of lore that can barely be bothered to get to know their children and (purportedly) had children to improve their status or, these days, their brand. Instead, we feel we have to be with our children every second of the day.  We don't get help. We judge other stay-at-home-parents who have their kids in daycare or have a regular weekly sitter.  

When I quit my job after Monkey was born, it was the first time I hadn't earned my own money since I was 11. I felt terribly guilty and thus was slow to spend money on a sitter to help out here and there. It wasn't until I got a full-time job that 13-month-old Monkey went to daycare. After working for a year I realized that not only did I want to stay home again, but I wanted Monkey to stay in daycare two days a week.  He loved the activities and the massive amount of creative toys and we loved the structure, the education, and the social skills he picked up sharing, eating and playing with other children.  

Now, my life at home is about to change as 10-month-old Munchkin will start daycare two days a week in September and Monkey will be in preschool five days a week until 2:30pm. I again feel guilty about the ten hours a week I'll have without children, but I'm going to try to stop the guilt and make the most of my time alone. I will run more errands, do more cooking and do more writing when they're not here. I hope those ten hours will translate into more fun and education for them when they're away and a more focused and balanced mom when they're with me. 

How do you approach your child's care?  Do you have sitters or use daycare?  Why or why not?  All comments welcome below. 

Today, I surrender. Monkey has pushed every button I possess and installed a few new ones and it's barely past lunch time. My computer crashed and Monkey keeps trying to push buttons (the real ones) on the laptop so I can barely write. Then, he woke up Munchkin and because she is intent on wrecking Monkey's train track (karma?), Monkey continues to wreck my chances of peace by protesting loudly and repeatedly. He will surely soon be found selling his baby sister to the highest bidder dealing in cupcakes. So today I'll surrender and write what I wish would happen whenever I need a break from the insanity my children produce.


When my kids drive me crazy
I wish a clown would appear
And ply them with balloons and stickers
And bring in a giant gentle dancing bear

When my kids are wrecking the house
I wish out would come a mouse
That sings funny little songs and adorable rhymes
That fill up inordinate amounts of time

At the prospect of making unruly children dinner
And the messiness that will ensue
I wish for a talking mop to make a healthy meal
And clean up the house from top to bottom too

When it's time to put the madness in bed
When I'm still seeing red
I wish for a magical book to tell them wrong from right
And tuck them in soundly for the night

When the kiddies are dreaming the sweetest dreams
I wish for a gourmet meal to appear
With table service and dessert
And my husband holding his mug of beer

These things would bring me quiet and peace
Though I wish for no other children than these
I'll hug them, surrender and throw my hands in the air
And cross my fingers that we'll see that dancing bear

When it comes to raising kids, getting a good night's sleep is a struggle for many kids and, ergo*, many parents. As the first weeks turn into months, sleep often becomes a battleground where weary parents emerge hoping for a cease fire. 

With my kids, the first few months went relatively smoothly.  They slept little, as most newborns are wont to do, but by six weeks settled into 5-8 hours of peaceful slumber. Then, the four-month sleep regression hit and both kids went haywire. They started waking up unpredictably and more often. When this happened with Munchkin, my regular routines went out the window as I tried to catch up on sleep while juggling both kids.  Shortly thereafter, Monkey decided that since the rest of his family was sleeping in the same room (Munchkin was in the bassinet next to me), he would come to our room in the middle of the night and do his best to shove both his father and me off of the bed. Between Munchkin's wakefulness and Monkey's midnight slaps, we were not getting much sleep.

Here we are almost six months later and while both kids now sleep in their shared room, Munchkin still wakes up 1-2 times a night. We've had a few nights where she has slept the entire night, we've had many nights where she's only woken up after 4:00 or 5:00 and I've nursed her back to sleep. However, the power of nursing and early-morning co-sleeping are quickly being zapped by Munchkin's own super-power of willing herself awake.

The worst nights are the ones like last night, where she wakes up and I.Just.Can't.Get.Her.To.Sleep.Again. I'll pick her up and bounce her so she doesn't wake up her brother. I'll put her down and pat her back while singing a quiet song. She'll lie down contentedly and coo herself to sleep until I dare take a step towards the door.  Then, "Waaaaaaaaa!' she starts all over again. When Monkey did this, we did a mild version of sleep training. Let him cry a bit, come back in and pat him, leave, let him cry a bit, and repeat until he fell asleep. However, Munchkin's cries are louder, more insistent and prone to wake up her brother and I don't know what to do. Twice in the last two weeks, I've spent two hours getting her back to sleep. My husband has even stepped in to pat her to sleep, only to hear her wake up the minute his head hits the pillow. Of course, Munchkin wakes up the next morning (i.e. 2 hours later) smilling, laughing and making cute, "ba bab ba" sounds as if she just crawled out of a Gerber commercial and I wake up looking like the "before" shot in a make-over show.  

I know the sleep experts would say I'm doing many things wrong if I want Munchkin to settle herself to sleep**. I pat and sing her to sleep; when she cries in the middle of the night, I pick her up, I bounce her in my arms; and if it's after 4am, I nurse her to sleep. This week may entail some sleep training in the pack'n'play in the living room so she doesn't wake anyone besides me. With a little love and discipline, I truly hope my Princess of Darkness really learns to enjoy the light.  

*When is the last time you saw the word "ergo" in a sentence that wasn't referring to the baby carrier?  Do I get a sticker for my vocabulary skills?  I mean, I also used the word "wont" in a sentence!
**I have no problem snuggling, bouncing and soothing Munchkin if she's teething, in pain, or very upset. It's the regular variety wakefulness that drives me bananas. 

Do you believe in sleep training?  How did you get your second child to sleep without waking the first one? What are the tricks you use to be consistent and kind when it comes to late night wakings?  Add your comments below. 

When you picture a cute little baby, you probably think sweet thoughts about her cooing, giggling and hanging on your every word. Then you have one and realize that that cute little baby has needs and she is going to make them known NOW.  Which sounds a lot like a few bosses I've had in the past.  Raising a bald baby is like having a bad boss because they: 

1. Need Hand-holding:  Just like your baby starts to cry when you walk away, lots of bosses tear up at the thought of you not walking them through the presentation you worked on all night, going with them to the meeting and then watching them take the credit. 
2. Don't Allow Sleep:  Whether you're up all night for a crying baby or a sobbing boss, both encounters leave you with rumpled clothes, bloodshot eyes and a newly developed caffeine habit. 
3. Don't Give Lunch Breaks:  Despite the lack of sleep, babies and bosses do not allow you to take a nap at lunch. Or take a lunch at all.  
4. Can't Decide:  There are few things more annoying than a boss who can't make a decision.  They must be channeling their inner tot when they decide they want one thing and two seconds later opt for something completely different.  
5. Throw Tantrums:  Tantrums are what happen when babies or bosses don't get what they want, no matter how illogical the request is.  (Why can't I have that space shuttle in the sky?  Waaaaahhhh!)
   
6. Can't Communicate:  Your wee little one doesn't have the vocabulary to say what she wants. Despite his college degree, neither does your boss.  
   
7. Won't Share:  Your boss wants the newest computer, the newest office furniture and wants to keep all the freebies sent to the office, despite the fact that he's the only one earning enough to buy those things himself. Your baby can't buy things yet, but he certainly is bad at sharing and good at whining to get what he wants.  
   
8. Pay Poorly:  You do all the work but don't get paid accordingly. That about sums it up. 
   
9. Don't Clean Up:  Cleaning up a room strewn with the wreckage of someone else's whims and playthings is something you do both at home and at the office.  
   
10. Get all the glory:  You dress, feed, and prepare your child, er, boss for the world and rarely get a word of thanks.  At least, your baby gives you a toothy grin and a big slurpy kiss.  
    

In order to keep my children safe from harm, I have to quickly size up a lot of kids and parents as I run across them throughout the day. In my dealings with said parents (and caregivers) I have discovered a pretty good way of figuring out what kind of person I'm dealing with using one easy test. It’s not the Rorschach Inkblot Test, the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator or anything that requires a pen, pencil or, say, a blob of ink. No, instead the Parenting Sliding Scale is what I use to identify active parents, rogue parents or parents missing in action. For those of you who thought a sliding scale was about the fees charged by a care provider, think again.  
 
Let me explain. In the playground next to my house (designed for kids aged 2-5), there are several slides, all connected to one jungle gym. One regular yellow slide, two that are connected side by side and one inside a tunnel. Years ago, I remember watching my then 2-year-old Monkey wait to slide down while another kid climbed up the slippery surface, blocking Monkey's way, when his mother came and said, "Joey, we don't climb up slides" and pulled him off. Wait, what? Kids aren't supposed to climb up the slide? Ever?  But it's fun!  It's challenging!  It provides a sense of accomplishment!  But since my own child was waiting his turn to slide down, I realized it's not the climbing up that causes trouble, it's the timing, and that is when the Parenting Sliding Scale kicks in.
 
The way other parents react to their children as the climber makes their parenting status easy to peg. Here are a few questionable scenarios:  Are their kids climbing the slide, blocking it for use from 10 tots waiting at the top? Or are the kiddos sliding down at a speed known to knock toddlers over like bowling pins? Is their kid carelessly climbing on top of the slide tunnel, putting kids on the ground at risk of being crushed by 40lbs of recklessness? There are parents who quickly tell their children that their behavior is inappropriate and make them stop and/or apologize. There are parents who weakly call out, "Don't do that," or "Be careful," while returning their gaze to their phones. And then there are the parents who don't appear at all.  And bingo, I know whether Munchkin and Monkey should be allowed to stay within a one- foot radius of the involved children, within a cautious ten-food radius of the kids or if we should run screaming from the playground like a child obsessed with pushing the elevator button first.  

As I watch Monkey climb up slides and – sometimes – even slide down them, I learn a lot about his fellow playmates and their parents. The Parenting Sliding Scale inevitably tells me all I need to know.

How do you size up parenting skills on the playground? Share your story of parents' and kids' crazy playground antics in the comments below. 

Potty training is one of those things that parents love and dread.  They look forward to having less diapers to change but dread the process.  However, there is one group of parents who love to talk about potty training. You know the ones. They say they trained their kids "in just a weekend" at the age of two. (There are those who train by the age of one, but that's a whole other story.)

In reality, no kids is trained in just a three days. Sure they get the concept in three days, but the grasping of the concept is only the beginning. Those parents fail to mention that their kid will forget to pee while playing with a toy. Or that their kid later regressed for one reason or another. Or that sometimes their kid is trained to do #1 in the potty, but refuses to do #2.  

The real truth is that having potty trained kids isn't all it's cracked up to be. Initially, it means stopping what you're doing every two hours to take your kid to the potty. It also means chasing them around the house convincing them to put their underwear back on. It means getting very adept at finding suitable trees that need watering.  It may mean less stinky trash, but it also means more stinky laundry. 

Since I insisted on having my son trained before his little sister arrived (no way was I changing diapers on two kids daily), I also have many memories of lifting him onto or--in some cases--floating above a public toilet while very pregnant. Maneuvering a squirmy kid in a germy stall was not the easiest thing to do while the size of a houseboat.  Amber Dusick describes it best in Public Toilets vs Newly Potty Trained Kids. The toilet is the enemy in those early months.  

If your child isn't potty trained--don't worry. It's not a reflection of your IQ nor his. Enjoy the cleanliness of the changing table while you can because you will soon meet the enemy in his truest porcelain form. 

When I was first pregnant, my husband and I chose not to find out the gender of our first child.  We waited nine months in anticipation for Monkey's arrival and once he arrived, so did a huge shipment of clothes from one of my older sisters. We were excited about our little Monkey of course, but as a rare member of the female species who does not like to shop, I was psyched to have a pile of beautiful clothes in great condition arrive at my doorstep. Pants, jackets, shoes and onesies galore worn by a nephew or two at my disposal. I'd frequently dress my son and one sister or another would exclaim about their sons, "I remember when Cousin V wore that!" or "That was my favorite outfit on Cousin E!" I liked knowing that these clothes had been broken in by Monkey's sweet older cousins. Of course, we had a number of clothes given to us (much of it yellow, of course) and a few items we purchased, but every few months when a new shipment would arrive, it'd feel like Christmas.  

I was talking to a friend* last week who said he doesn't give his children anything secondhand. Not their clothes, their strollers, their bouncy seats or shoes. He couldn't exactly articulate why exactly--he's not a germaphobe and he's not materialistic--but he was happy when his second child was a different gender from the first so he'd have a reason to buy him new clothes. Considering the number of swings, ExerSaucers, strollers and other items we received from friends, I couldn't fathom not only the cost**, but having to actually purchase all of the said items without even knowing if my child would be willing to use it more than once. I once saw a $1200 barely-used stroller (with multiple accessories) for sale at a fraction of the cost because the baby it was intended for didn't like it. Yup. That happens. 

Secondhand clothes suit me because  they are easily available (Munchkin already has a stocked closet with clothes that will fit her for another two years), it's free and saves me the hassle of shopping on-line or otherwise. However, it's nice to think I'm preventing clothes from going into a huge processing center and it's fun to see that even Julia Roberts buys her kids clothes at thrift shops. What's the point of buying new clothes when your kid will stain, rip or outgrow them in a few weeks or sometimes in a few minutes? I don't have high end tastes, especially for kids that can't even talk, but if you do, there are affordable designer baby clothes to be found. 

For now, I'll continue to dress my kids in secondhand duds until they start expressing preferences for items that can't be found in that shipped box of clothes. But since the thought of having to shop for not just me, but two more people terrifies me, I just hope that doesn't happen until they are old enough to shop for themselves. 

*My friend cheerily consented to being mentioned in GoodMomvsBadMom.com.
 
** Notice that the study "showed that only 56% of first time parents were happy with second hand items for their first baby, this went up to 77% with parents of one or more kids." That's probably because the thought of spending another $7700 a second or third time freaked out the parents so much that they happily hauled out those used gadgets and toys.

How do you feel about secondhand clothes? Love them or hate them? Let me know in your comments below.  

After spending many a late night watching the Olympics, I’ve realized I don’t have to watch the Games, I’m already in them!  After all, being a parent requires stamina, dedication and sacrifice, just like being an Olympian.  Here are ten--okay, eleven--examples of Olympic sports parents excel in.

1)  The Labor Marathon:  You work out, you eat right, you get informed about event day, but you can’t predict how long it will take to complete the race until you’re holding the medal, er, baby in your arms.

2)  Parenting Triathlon:  Successfully wipe bum, add diaper cream, and replace diaper without getting peed on or kicked.  

3) Diving for Cheerios:  Baby throws cheerios, parent picks them up. Repeat until exhaustion, muttering, “Isn’t it nap time?” under your breath.

4) Baby-crawl Gymnastics:  The baby starts crawling and you have to balance a drink, vault over table tops, flip over strewn toys and somersault across the floor to keep her safe.

5) Soccer Mom Clean-up:  Try to put playthings into toy bin while defending against tackles from multiple children.  If successful, yell, “Gooooooooooooooooooooal!”  at the top of your lungs.

6) Wrestling for Control:  Use upper arm strength and every tricky move you can muster to outsmart a toddler from grabbing the remote control for the 50th time.

7) Human Equestrian:  Get onto hands and knees and carry preschooler all over the house, jumping over sharp items and dodging requests of, “Again? Again!”

8) Double Child Weightlifting:  Pick up one child until the other one gets jealous. Pick up other child, while first cries about being put down. Carry both until your arms fall off.  

9)  Toy Tennis:  Give toy to Child One until he balks about the toy Child Two has. Swap toys until Child Two balks about Child One’s toy. Swap again. Go back and forth until they both erupt into tears and you go to the store and buy two of every single toy available.

10) Laundry Relay:  Remove dirty clothes from child, coat with stain remover, throw in washer and add to growing pile of clean clothes sitting in laundry basket. Judged as “Did Not Finish,” because clothes didn’t make it into the dresser.

11)  Errand Archery:  Aim to go to Target with two children to pick up ONE thing. Focus on bulls-eye logo while children beg for 10 items strategically placed at toddler eye level. Leave with the ONE thing and ten others you were suckered into.

Long ago I used to really dislike the color pink. Red was my favorite color, but its pink sister was not welcome into my home. As my nieces came into the world, my distaste for pink started to fade and I even began to wear pink myself. But now, nearly a decade later and nine months after Munchkin's arrival, I've realized I'm really in the pink hot seat.  

A quick look in Munchkin's closet shows a lot of purple, green, orange and blue, with a fair share of pink, which is fine. However, my real fear of pink lies in toys and, specifically, the rows and rows of pink toys at the store. I worry that as Munchkin grows, she will feel that call to pink that is heavily influenced by marketers and cultural stereotypes. Pink is a perfectly nice color, but does every single toy for girls have to be 100% pink, save for splashes of purple? I appreciate toy makers (by "appreciate" I mean my very gracious word for the low bar they've set for women's aspirations) making veterinarian offices and laptops instead of only shopping tableaus and beauty salons, but if toys are supposed to mimic real life, I have seen few pink cars, no pink doctor's office, grocery stores, or even--gasp!--pink kitchens or hair salons in my lifetime.  There is nothing wrong with being a beautician, but there is something wrong with indicating it's one of the few things a girl should be.  There is also nothing wrong with being feminine, but there are dozens of other feminine colors that, well, aren't pink.     

It's hard to tell which came first--girl's preferences or marketers shaping girl's preferences. If you read articles about Lego's creation of their Lego Friends series targeting girls, they'll tell you they created what girls wanted. I understand that girls like to tell a story, but can't they accomplish that with green Legos? I would not have wanted to play with primarily pink and purple blocks and I'm not sure my three nieces would either. In fact, there is a study that proves both genders both prefer blue. Back in the 1900s, boys were supposed to wear pink, and girls blue.  

Clearly times have changed.  It is entirely possible my daughter will love pink and I will feel compelled to add a lot more pink to her toy collection and closet.  However, I am crossing my fingers that she like every color and have interest in a wide variety of careers not limited to those affecting her external appearance.  

How do you feel about toy-makers insistence on making everything pink?  Love it or hate it?  Add you good and bad thoughts below.