Two days a week, I pick Monkey up from his bus stop and we go to a playground to spend some one-on-one time together. The park extends a few blocks and contains a tennis court, a basketball court, several jungle gyms and large stretches of grass to play on. As we settled on our blanket Tuesday, Monkey became enthralled with the tennis match taking place a few feet away. Monkey watched the ball go back and forth and then started saying loudly to the players, "Throw the ball over the fence!"  

As Monkey urged the players for the ball, I kept trying to quiet him down and lure him back to the picnic blanket, but eventually the player turned around and indicated we should wait a few minutes. So Monkey came and sat with me and, after the match ended, this tennis player came to the high fence and obligingly threw the tennis ball over the fence. Monkey delightedly threw it back and we both thanked the man for his kindness. I was impressed that this young man--in his 20s--could be so considerate to a 3-year-old he didn't even know. Even more amazingly, when the next people came to play, Monkey made the same request and another stranger threw him the ball back and forth over the fence and told Monkey to keep the ball. 

As we were getting to leave, one of the kids playing basketball chased down a loose ball bouncing by us. As I cringed in embarrassment Monkey pleaded, "Play with me!"  Before I could tell Monkey that surely the boy needed to return to his friends, the boy surprised me by agreeing to play. The boy threw Monkey the tennis ball and tried to teach him how to hit it with the stick Monkey had been swinging around like a racket. Instead of being embarrassed of being seen by all his junior high friends on the court, this young teenager was an incredibly patient and thoughtful teacher. 

I'm not a cynic by any means, but I've been so surprised and, more than anything, impressed with the humanity of people around me. We live in a large city with a very diverse population, yet a majority of people have smiled kindly at Monkey's comments, tolerated his obsession with pushing elevator buttons and unfailingly answered his questions. I've never assumed everyone is charmed children--especially the young and noisy kind--but I'm starting to realize I should stop assuming people are bothered by them*. Through Monkey I've learned that if I stop being embarrassed by a pre-schooler's inquisitiveness and his newfound courage to talk to strangers, I can witness a lot of little kindnesses I would have missed.  

*That is, unless we're on an airplane.  

When I was growing up, my mother was incredibly energetic and did not stop moving.  While my father would relax in front of the TV after dinner, my mother would run around editing my father's letters to the paper, organizing shelves, folding laundry or something. The downside to my mother's busybody ways was the unspoken rule at home that as long as my mother was moving, so were we. If she was in the kitchen, we were in the kitchen cleaning. If my mother needed the laundry sorted, we were the ones to do it. There was no sitting around, unless my mother was sitting around*. I still remember the joyful day my twin sister taught my mother how to play solitaire on our new computer because finally my mother sat still. 

As a stay-at-home mom, I'm naturally on the move constantly. When I'm outdoors, I'm walking Monkey to school, taking the kids to play dates, pushing the stroller while jogging or chasing Munchkin at the playground. If we're home, I'm settling sibling battles and managing dinner, bath and bedtime alone. The energy and drive I inherited from my mom serve me well at these times. But what do I do when I'm home alone?

It's a novel--and fantastic--dilemma that I'm lucky to have. With Monkey in school until 2:30 five days a week and Munchkin in daycare two days a week, I have about 10 hours of time without them during the week. I want my first priority to be writing. Writing GoodMomvsBadMom has been a terrific outlet and given me the freedom to discuss topics that don't revolve around teaching a 3-year-old how to share nicely. But then there is laundry to be done, dishes to be cleaned and errands that can be tackled more easily without a double-stroller full of children. Can I just write and do research for five hours or must I divide my time evenly between GMvBM work with house work?  Am I a failed mom if the kids get home and the clean dishes are *gasp* still in the dishwasher and their dinner isn't 100% ready?

Then there is the question of rest. It's been three weeks since school has started and I have yet to take a nap in those ten weekly hours. Am I "allowed" to watch TV for a while? Can I go get a haircut or go to the spa or do something--anything--mildly relaxing? If being a SAHM is a job, shouldn't I be "working" the whole day, even if I’m alone? Or is that outweighed by the fact that most days I don't get a lunch or coffee break during the day, rarely get a full night’s rest, never get to call in sick and am usually on the job 24 hours a day?** Even the busiest cubicle dwellers get time to surf the internet or take a personal call in peace. What are the rules and regulations for being a SAHM?  

I feel like I should keep moving at all times, but for all the times I squeeze in two days of work into five hours, there are days where I just can't function any more and I slowly sink onto the couch. Just don't tell my mother. 

*My father also contributed to the household--he loved to cook and fix up our antiquated house--but at least we could count on him to sit still, if only to watch the news and L.A. Law. 
**In the spirit of full-disclosure and kind-wife-ure, I do get one weekend morning to sleep in, courtesy of my husband. 

If you're home without the children for a day, do you do chores or take time to indulge?  What is your favorite child-free activity? Leave your comments here.

The other day I was talking to a school representative as 3-year-old Monkey got off of his school bus. His little sister Munchkin was in the double stroller and, as I tossed Monkey's heavy backpack into the stroller, Monkey climbed in.  The man--who we'll call Ken--said in the I'm-going-to-pretend-I'm-joking-but-I'm-actually-going-to-give-my-unsolicited-opinion-voice, "You're in the stroller? You're too big for a stroller!!" Pause, "Just kidding!" I said, "It's a 15 minute walk." Again, he directed his comment to Monkey, "YOU can walk 15 minutes can't you?"  "Yes, he can," I said and headed towards home. 

What I didn't say is that the walk only takes 15 minutes when I'm speed-walking with intensity developed from my years in New York and days as a marathon runner. If Monkey walked home--and he has done on other days--it would turn into a 30-40 minute walk of shepherding him through cross-walks, stopping him from studying every blade of grass and asking why we couldn't go this way or do that thing. I'm all for Monkey walking and asking questions (can one really stop a 3-year old from asking questions?), but there is the issue of time management

No, I'm not rushing off to a manicure or a hair appointment, as Ken might suppose (he's not the sharpest knife in the drawer), but Munchkin sometimes needs a nap, errands need to be run and the cooking and cleaning I'm supposed to accomplish as a stay-at-home-mom is awaiting me at home. 

Despite my to-do list, I admit I felt defensive. We've all seen those kids who are too big for strollers. The implication of Ken's comment is that either I'm lazy or my son is lazy, although that is nowhere near the truth. We don't own a car (and haven't in 20 years) so I either walk or take a train to get around. I walk to the doctor's office, to the kids' schools, to their play-dates, and to every night out or meeting that I attend. We usually walk to the various playgrounds nearby, but if we venture to the downtown area it is quite likely Monkey sits in the stroller at some point because navigating said trains is easier and safer if both kids are contained. Since Ken doesn't have children, I invite him to take a three-year-old shopping. When we go to big box stores, Monkey wanders around on his own two feet, but the speed with which a small child can grab either incredibly impractical or unhealthy items from the shelf, will surely alarm Ken to no end.  

Sometimes Monkey is in the stroller to make the day or a shopping trip more efficient. Sometimes he's in the stroller because I'm taking the kids for a run. Sometimes he's walked a lot and wants to sit for the last stretch home.  However, neither one of us is lazy. In the next few months, we'll phase the stroller out for Monkey completely. But on days I have to haul the kids one mile from the bus to home with a few stops along the way, he'll probably want to sit and enjoy the ride.

When I first had Monkey, there were a bunch of moms who got together for strolls outside on a regular basis. Most of us were new moms, still adjusting to a life filled with the unpredictable hard work of being a parent. As is common to new parents--well, all parents--we talked about sleep. How often, when, where, and how long were our kids sleeping.  

One mother said she had a routine for her child to go down at the exact same time every day. She gave her a bath and placed her in the crib and left the room. She had the same routine at night too and it worked effortlessly. (No word what her newborn's delicate skin had to say about two baths a day.) You don't snuggle with your baby? Hold her? Sing to her? Rock her? we asked? "No," she said very firmly, "you never rock a baby."  

Whoa! You never rock a baby?  She said it with such certainty and in a way that implied we were crazy for thinking otherwise. As I walked home with little Monkey I wondered if I should try that technique. If I stopped holding him or rocking him, would he sleep better? More easily? In general, I believed you can't spoil a baby under six-months-old, but maybe I was being naive!  Weak! Selfish even!

But then I looked at my tiny little Monkey (okay, he wasn't tiny, he was really chunky, but you get the idea) and thought, "No way." No way can I stop holding him, cuddling him or singing him to sleep. Nor would I ever stop any of his grandparents, his dad or his various aunts and uncles from rocking him. No, my son could not fall asleep immediately when placed in the crib, but he was only going to be this small for such a short short period of time and I wanted to enjoy him as much as possible.  No one looks back in time and says, "I wish I'd held my child less." Rocking a baby to sleep is an honor. When a little being trusts you and lays in your arm and he drifts into sleep, it makes you, the adult, feel special and safe. As a mother, I want my children to feel special and safe in my arms.  

I didn't rock Monkey to sleep every night or every nap, but I held him or nursed him to sleep those early months, I patted his belly or smoothed his hair. Sometimes I just lay my head next to his as he fell asleep. Eventually he learned to sleep on his own and I let him settle himself down many nights, but I still haven't stopped rocking Monkey. He sits on my lap and we sit on a rocking chair and talk. Sometimes he and Munchkin both crowd onto my lap for a snuggle and a story and that is fine with me. Next time someone says, "You never rock a baby" with such seriousness, I'll say, "Yes. Yes I do."

How do you put your children down for a nap or nighttime?  Do you rock them until they're a certain age?  Do you let them cry after they reach a certain age?

Tomorrow is Monkey's first day of school and part of me is terrified.  "Terrified" may be too strong a word, I know, but I am certainly nervous. Not nervous just about tomorrow and not just about starting Pre-K3. I'm nervous because, to me, this signifies the beginning of the rest of his life.  His life without parents keeping an eye on playground scuffles. His life where kids can be mean for no reason at all. His life where his academic strengths will be noted and he will be judged for them. Yes, he's gone to daycare part-time, but this, somehow, feels differently. 

Monkey is a sensitive kid. He is slow to warm up to big new situations.  He is friendly to unfamiliar kids on the playground, but apt to feel hurt if they don't want to play with him and likely to feel sad when he leaves them. What are the 14 other kids in his classroom going to be like and how will the treat one another? More importantly, what kind of teachers will he have? Will they be the kind that can read the dynamics of a classroom and teach accordingly?  Will they be the kind that actively help kids like and understand each other? Or will they be the kind to turn a blind eye to bullying and bad behavior, waiting lazily for the clock to strike 2:30?  

I want what most parents want for their children. I want my son to be happy and to enjoy learning. I hope he has friends, but doesn't feel a crushing need to be popular, especially at a cost. I want him to be kind, but stand up for himself--and others--when necessary. I want him to find something he loves and excels in and something he loves and has to work hard to succeed in. I want him to feel safe in school. I want him to feel good about telling me the issues he is facing, whether it's difficulty sharing toys in Pre-K or difficulty expressing his thoughts in high school.   

What I fear is him getting hurt. I fear seeing him sad. I fear the day he realizes that not all people are good or fair, not even the adults. I fear not realizing something is wrong at school until too late. I fear experiences that will alter his heart for years or decades to come. But I know I can't parent from a place of fear. I cannot wrap Monkey or his little sister in bubble wrap, hoping only the bubbles burst and not my children's innocence.  

For now, I will bring as much joy and excitement to tomorrow as I can. I will walk him to his bus and join him for the first hour of school. Then I will leave him with his new teachers and new friends and wave goodbye.  

How did (or do) you feel about your child's first day of school?  What advice would you give to parents to help them through the first day and every day?  Want to vote on GoodMomvsBadMoms thoughts about protecting Monkey?  Click here!