Don’t forget to track the Big Man tonight with the Official NORAD Santa Tracker. 

Children can learn about the places Santa has been before leaving milk and cookies, and (maybe) falling asleep! 

Merry Christmas!

 

~ The Daily Muse

 

 

Food Face plate is just begging for you to play with your food. Finally, a way to prove your mother wrong.

~ The Daily Muse

 

 

You know you’re getting older when …you put on a jacket and your mother’s hands come out the sleeves!

I hate to tell you ladies, but it’s not just me…We are ALL getting older! Don’t we hate it when we see ourselves as our mothers? Our generation is so much more hip than our parents’. My mother was never cool! My mother smoked Kools, for 52 years, but that is as close as she ever came to being cool! The irony of this, of course, is that we hate to acknowledge any resemblance, to our mothers,  yet they are the ones who raised us, and taught us much of what we know… especially when it comes to the all- important job of being a mom!

Never mind, that the metaphoric jacket I had donned was actually an attitude, and the hands emerging from the sleeves were words tumbling out of my mouth.  I was on sacred ground,  channeling those four words of mothers everywhere, and I KNEW it.

“Because I said so!”

There! The trump card was played! Game over!

It would be easy to dismiss this as yet another salvo in the mommy wars-—the debate over women opting out of careers to be stay-at-home moms. But Bennetts, a longtime journalist and writer for Vanity Fair, is more interested in investigating what she sees as the heart of the matter: economics. Through impressive research and interviews with experts and with real women, Bennetts shows that women simply cannot afford to quit their day jobs. Long-term loss of income has a cascading impact in areas such as medical benefits and retirement funds, not to mention a woman's sense of autonomy, derived from financial independence. Further, a career supplies a woman with a measure of security for herself and her children in the event of unexpected sickness or divorce. As any woman who has tried knows, returning to the workforce and finding a well-paying job after an absence of years, or even decades, is difficult. Not so long ago mothers would pin a dollar bill to their daughters' underclothes when they went out on a date in case, for some reason, they needed carfare home. Those mothers knew all to well that without money of your own it's easy to be left stranded. As Bennetts expertly shows, it's still true. 

~From Publishers Weekly

I haven't even been in Michigan 24 hours and I've already caused an uproar.  My sister lives an hour south of my mom so after 11 hours in the car, it's the winner when it comes to first destination choices.  And here we are.

My sister and I have had countless discussions about the people in our lives, including our mama friends with our different parenting styles.  A couple of her mama friends came over to meet me last night and, as will happen, there were a few kid-on-kid scuffles.  Most worked themselves out but the one that didn't was the one that ended the night...and it involved me and my kid.  Well, me more than my kid.

I was born in the early seventies—a great time to be a feminist baby. It was the Free to Be…You and Me era, and my parents were two baby boomers who, while not quite flower children, took to heart the political upheavals of their generation. We wore that record out. In our house, all people were equal and everyone had unlimited potential.

Despite the freedom to be them, I didn’t end up as a CEO, astronaut or Supreme Court justice. I got a world-class college education and worked the same job my grandmother had: housewife.

From the start, I refused the uncomfortably Schlaflyesque moniker of Stay-At-Home-Mom. That seemed so limiting for someone who could do anything, be anything, handle anything. And besides, the command “stay” made me feel like a dog. Unlike Lisa Belkin’s Opt-Out Generation, I was opting-in to the challenge of redefining parenthood on my own terms, like so many of my punk rock idols had done with political and creative scenes. Hell, I thought, this parenting shit was gonna be easy.

I remember when my mom and I had "The Talk".  It was the night following my niece's christening.  I was almost 14 years old, and had my first cycle while I was out of town with my older sister.  I remember waking my sister in the middle of the night and (literally) showing her my "situation".  I thought I was DYING!  Somehow reading Judy Blume's book Are you there God? It's me Margaret had still left me unprepared.

The next day, my mother stopped me in the hallway at our home.

"I heard you got your friend," she said visibly uncomfortable.

"Uh huh," I answered, embarrassed.

"Well, you know you have to be careful around boys now."

"Okay."

Talk finished.

Paulette is my Shero because she creates a supportive, even loving, atmosphere for patients at the Virginia League for Planned Parenthood, many of whom lack health insurance. After sending a nurse to "hold my hand" during my IUD placement, she distracted my boyfriend (who’d paled two shades in the waiting room) with a guided tour.  
~Nominated by Joia Wood, Charlottesville , Va.
 
Spurred by the growing need for women’s health services, Paulette launched a $4.6 million campaign for VLPP’s new facility, opened last month at 201 N. Hamilton. “Access to affordable family planning often means, quite literally, the difference between a woman finishing college or not,” Paulette, VLPP’s President and CEO, notes.  On weekends she hits the Goochland countryside with her horse, Splash.

 

A couple weeks ago, 3-year-old A.J. asked question after question as our pastors baptized a baby. I tried to answer as quietly as possible, but when he’s actually paying attention to the service and trying to learn, I don’t feel bad about a little talking. He hasn’t mentioned it since then. 

Today, we were at the Lubbock Memorial Arboretum. A.J. and 21-month-old Max ran up to a bubbling fountain and immediately stuck their hands in it. They were splashing and laughing, and A.J. cupped his hands and threw water on Max.   “Maxey, I’m baby-tizing you!” he exclaimed.

So, last Friday night the fam and I went to a Tex-Mex (yes, I know — cue the Swine flu jokes) themed dinner at a good friend’s house.  Key lime martinis were flowing and there was enough food to feed a small country.  Great food and even better company!  

Now, my friend’s home is on an acre — a beautiful acre of woods and flowers that is all fenced in making us parents feel comfortable about just letting the kids play to their heart’s content.  The kids’ usual game of choice is one called Man Hunt.  If you’ve not heard of it, it is a game much like hide-and-go-seek, but is considered less juvenile so the big kids like to play it.   Played with two teams who alternate being hiders or seekers, Man Hunt works best during the night and outside.  After a designated period of time, the seekers scavenge the garden for the other team.  When a hider is found, he is brought to the area marked as prison. From there, fellow teammates can free him, but the game is not over until everyone is found.  Needless to say, my friend’s home is perfect for the game and the kids usually have a riot!