Cracking Up: A vacation that never was

as published at www.ocregister.com on May 30, 2012:

The treehouse "Dwell" in Ojai; available on vrbo.com...another too good to be true option when you wait 'til the last minute...

"What are you guys up to this weekend?" the text from my friend read.


The idealism had all started Friday morning of the Memorial weekend holiday when my husband emerged from our home office after two years spent buried in his new business to announce he was ready to bug out of town. This glorious news greenlit my favorite hobby: trip planning. BUT ... 


"Ideally, planning a surprise to take the kids somewhere fun! Realistically, working in pajamas," I replied, wondering if my favorite flannels had yet made it through the dry cycle. 


"Before I spend four hours planning the perfect getaway, I'm going to need a commitment and a credit card from you," I said, safeguarding my efforts from the reason and logic he loves to hurl at my "great ideas." 


He handed over the plastic and I was off. But a quick search on every Lastminutedealsforloserswhowaitwaytoolong.com site revealed … nada. Besides an $8,000 a night suite in the central coast, every "family resort" adventure in the western hemisphere had been booked solid for months. Overachievers. 


So I branched out to a land of Plan B trips, finding this route included many options my kids might find "memorial..."

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Cracking Up: A vacation that never was - OC Moms - The Orange County Register

Cracking Up: Baby fat I adore

as published at www.ocregister.com on May 23, 2012:

There are some things sisters just shouldn't share: toothbrushes, boyfriends, mood swings … But my two daughters have found the joy in sharing the one thing sisters should: clothes! The problem is, one sister's 4, and the other 11.


"Mom, why is Gracie wearing my shirt?" our oldest Alex asked on St. Patrick's Day, when little Gracie came down dressed for preschool in a sparkly green top.


"You put that shirt in your 'too small' pile," I said.


"Yeah, but I wore it in fifth grade! What size is she?"


And a double check revealed that indeed, my 4-year-old should most appropriately be shopping at Forever 21.


Meet Gracie: the baby of our family, and our Amazon woman. The sensitive would term her "long torsoed." Her brothers prefer the nicknames "Juicy," "Jelly" and "Bacon." They're still in time-out for that one. But our little marshmallow is the mascot of our family.


Gracie is hands-down the most loving child you'll ever meet. She's all about jumping on your neck and giving you a squeeze. But somewhere in that long torso, she's packing lead. Unsuspecting relatives frequently emit a guttural "Ughhhhh" when she leaps into their lap. But no one gives better hugs, so she's worth the deadlegs...

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Cracking Up: Baby fat I adore - OC Moms - The Orange County Register

Hands Free Mama... How NOT to Miss a Childhood

as published at the OC Register May 16, 2012: 

http://www.ocregister.com/articles/cell-354184-phones-handwritten.htmlon

A few nights ago, I saw a basket at a party filled with cell phones. An attached handwritten stick-it note read: "Why not hang out with your friends who are actually here?"


An hour later, while still partying it up with my FB posse, I clicked on a link to an article entitled "How to Miss a Childhood." And there, I saw this picture of a woman holding her phone in one hand and a picture of her children in the other. And I read how a life spent heeding every text, alert, status, check-in, ping, tweet, comment, like, and share that beckon us all day long will eventually land you at your child’s high school graduation, where you’ll realize you missed it all — their entire childhood.


Great point, I thought, looking around the room for someone to agree. The only problem was there was no one else in the room with me, and the basket was not real — but a picture I was looking at on Facebook. Once again, I was "hanging out" with my friends online, too busy with my media to gather together with the real, live people in my life.


Sitting alone in a room humming with electronic byproduct, attached to a handheld device that has really become more of a body part, I couldn’t shake the notion that somebody was trying to tell me something — and ironically, they knew that using a handheld device was the only way to do it.


I set down my phone, stunned. Then I slid it under a pillow. Then pulled it back out, turned it OFF, and slid it back under the pillow.


"Kids?" I summoned.


They ran in from their various corners.


"I have a serious question to ask you, and I want you to answer honestly." Eyes widened.


"Do you think I spend too much time on my phone and laptop?"


I didn’t receive an answer as much as a cacophany of giggles and bobble heads, nodding in the affirmative.


"Well, look kids, no hands!" I exclaimed, showing them 10 fingers, no phone. "From now on, I’m yours. When you’re home, when you’re awake, I’m unplugged and dialed into you."


Their dubious looks mirrored the reality I was suppressing: that this could be harder than I thought. I even sensed a twinge of fear, that this new movement may also result in the removal of the car movies, apps, and Instagram to which they are likewise addicted. ‘Tis true that my iLife is hereditary, the Apple literally not falling far from the tree.


But I'm going for it. Today marks the first day of my hands-free life. And it may take me a little longer than usual to update you on how it’s going, but my kids will be the better for it.  


Rachel Macy Stafford is the author of the "How to Miss a Childhood" article, found at her blog and mission:HandsFreeMama.com. Join the movement and take the oath:

"I’m going Hands Free. I want to make memories, not to-do-lists. I want to feel the squeeze of my daughter's arms, not the pressure of over-commitment. I want to get lost in conversation with my spouse, not consumed by a sea of unimportant emails. I want to be overwhelmed by sunsets that give me hope, not by extracurricular commitments that steal my joy. I want the noise of my life to be a mixture of laughter and gratitude, not the intrusive buzz of cell phones and text messages. I am letting go of distraction, disconnection, and perfection to live a life that simply, so very simply, consists of what really matters. I’m going Hands Free. And if this sounds like a life you want to start living, come along. A Hands Free revolution starts here! I hope you will join me!"

The Price of Motherhood

as published at www.ocregister.com on May 10, 2012:

I recently drove behind a minivan whose license plate monikered the driver as a "HOUSEWF."

Come on, lady, I thought. Give yourself some credit! You’re not married to a house -- go with wife, or mother, or homemaker even --

And then I noticed my rant had grown vocal, and I had an audience: my 11-year-old daughter, who I frequently tell being a mom is the most important job in the world. But to whom I also conspicuously demonstrate how important I feel it is for a woman to have an education, a vocation, hobbies -- an IDENTITY -- that she can infuse in her "housewifery."

"Maybe those license plates were taken?" my daughter said, diffusing the situation. But the nerve in me had once again been struck -- admittedly by my own insecurities that perhaps the only recognition that will ever be granted to the world’s most undervalued role is misspelled on the back of a minivan.

As a child, I dreamed of having a career instead of kids. My Barbie had a Ferrari, not a diaper bag. So the fact that the letters "SAHM" now best define my stay at home mom to-do’s instead of the Ph.D/ M.D./ Esq. I had once envisioned, is still one I’m getting used to.

I know many women who, like HOUSEWF, wear the stay-at-home mommy badge with pride. And I know many others who spend the PB&J-making process mourning the career they left behind, and counting the days until they can get back to it. And then there are the jugglers who admirably manage both career and family, whether by necessity or choice.

But statistics show that across the board, when a woman adds the letters M-O-M to her identity, her monetary paycheck drops or disappears altogether...

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Cracking Up: Mom's job is priceless - OC Moms - The Orange County Register

Ode to my mom: The Mac truck of child-bearing

as published at www.ocregister.com on May 9, 2012:

For my second grade Halloween party, my mom—our room mom-- thought it would be fun to read the kids a scary yet sweet story: "Lamont the Lonely Monster."

But when the day of the party came, my classmates opted to spend the hour watching video footage of the recent play we’d performed instead of having story time. Not a big deal in the grand scheme of things.

But it was to me, because I had some insider information: I knew that my mom was an incredible artist who had stayed up late for three nights painting and binding posterboard-sized illustrations of Lamont the Lonely Monster so the entire class could see the pictures better. I knew that my mom wouldn’t just read the story to us, but she would give each character a unique monster voice, and Lamont’s lonely drone would carry the story as the best of all. And I knew that my mom had seven other kids besides me and this was my turn—my only year—to have her as my room mom and read my class a scary Halloween story with all of her theatrics and presentation.

So when the teacher announced my class’s impetuously vain decision to watch a video of themselves instead, I started to cry. I looked toward my mom’s face, knowing the sacrifice and talent she had poured into this moment. But my mom...

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Ode to my mom: Mac truck of child-bearing - OC Moms - The Orange County Register

10 ways to spoil mom on Mother's Day

as published at www.ocregister.com on May 2, 2012:

Calling all husbands, boyfriends, kids and house pets who know who really fills their food bowl: A big holiday is right around the corner -- one that has the potential to be the biggest blow out or biggest blow up of the year!

Mothers love to be thought of before midnight the night before Mother’s Day, so here’s a plan-ahead guide to indulge the mom in your house.

That's right, Mother's Day is May 13. (May 13, May 13, May 13.)

Okay, let's be honest. Really this is a document for moms to blow up to 96 font and tape to the fridge and bathroom mirror. But here's to hoping someone gets the hint.

1. Mothers love breakfast in bed. But mothers do not love breakfast in bed at 5 a.m. Let mom sleep in, and remember to feed your kids before you send them in to mom’s room with a tray, or else mom’s breakfast in bed becomes the breakfast of toddler crumbs in mom’s bed.

2. Mothers love homemade gifts. But moms prefer them when their construction is supervised by a responsible adult (preferably a mom herself who knows a glitter explosion/tacky glue overdose likewise does not bode well in mom's bed).

3. Most mothers also love store-bought gifts. But even though this is THE holiday of the year, store hours are not as generous as those in December. So the last minute, overpriced due to guilt items that served you well last Christmas/Hannukah are not an option in May. Malls close early the night before Mother’s Day, and moms know better than most that wrapped up pedi-eggs and beach towels really came from aisle 13 of your 24-hour CVS.

4. Mothers love to be with their kids...

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10 ways to spoil mom on Mother's Day - OC Moms - The Orange County Register