DC Metro Moms

Negotiations About Movin' On Up

 We bought our 2 bedroom 1 bath condo in S. Arlington at the height of the real estate boom in 2004. Eight hundred square feet wasn't posh, but it was enough for me and my husband. If he was watching a movie, I could go into the Study (our second bedroom) to read or surf the Web.

When Sweetpea arrived in 2007, friends and family asked us if we'd be moving to something bigger. Nah, we said. How much space can a baby take up? One kindly old lady even said we could let Sweetpea sleep in a bureau drawer. We splurged on a crib. 

But that crib meant no more study. And then where to put the Rainforest Jumperoo? And the stroller? And the high chair? Baby accoutrement seemed to be designed for 2,000 square foot homes, not pint-sized pads.

More or Less Connected?

The other day, as I was walking with a friend at lunchtime, she told me about a close friend of hers in high school who still hadn't made the leap to Facebook. At her urging, the friend joined the social networking giant, but much to her surprise, their usual phone conversations became more and more infrequent because they "saw" each other on Facebook.

When I read the New York Times article "Antisocial Networking?" that asks how does technology affect kids' friendships, I couldn't help but be reminded of my friend's story and reflect on my own friendships since the dawn of email, texting, and Facebook.

Sometimes "Good Enough" Is Good Enough

Before I had my little girl, I compiled a mental list of parenting practices that I would never partake in. They included:

• Never using the TV or movies as a babysitter.
• Eating mostly organic foods.
• Making sure my daughter did not exist on a diet of chicken nuggets, mac n' cheese, and hot dogs.
• Not resorting to bribery to get her to do something.
• Using positive parenting practices.

Then, I had my daughter. One by one, my vision of being a paragon of parenting virtue shattered:

• When I'm desperate for adult conversation during dinner, I've been know to pop in a Clifford The Big Red Dog DVD for her to watch while I chat with my husband and friends.
• Organic-only was breaking my budget, so I do some organic and some "regular" food.
• We always have an industrial-sized box of chicken nuggets in the freezer, hot dogs in the fridge, and mac n' cheese in the cupboard.
• She's getting a fabulous present if and when she gives up her paci.
• Calmly saying, "oranges are not for throwing" doesn't roll off the tongue as easily as shrieking, "Stop it right now! Don't throw! What are you thinking!?"

What's Holding Me Back?

After a nearly six-year, part-time journey through graduate school, I am almost at the finish line. During those years, I've seen many of my friends juggle work and school and get their masters in two or three years. I feel sheepish admitting that I've been at this for such a long time.

Then I remind myself to keep things in perspective: in those five years I had a baby, had to come to terms with the sudden death of my father, and scramble to find care for my elderly, mentally ill mother. The journey has been rough, but on good days, the shrink in my head reminds me that I should value my persistence and tenacity--I could have given up, right?

I've reached a point where not so many people vying for my attention: my 2 1/2 year old sleeps through the night, my elderly mother is safely ensconced in an assisted living facility. I finally have time to devote to me.

So why am I having such a hard time asking for the time I need for my graduate work? My husband told me I should take any time that I need to work on my assignments, even if that means multiple evenings away in a single week. Yet, I hesitated to take him up on his offer at first.

Lady Bug Shields: Cockroach Protection You Can Count On

"Mama, I have to use the potty."

"Okay, honey," I say, wiping my mouth on the napkin and grabbing my toddler's hand. We're in the middle of potty training, so any time my little girl initiates a trip to the bathroom, I'm thrilled. We weave our way through the dining room of the restaurant, and open the door to the restroom...just in time to see a cockroach scurrying across the toilet seat.

I suck my breath in, grab a wad of toilet paper, and go in for the kill: Pinch, squish, flush. As my little one watches the cockroach make its final journey, she looks up at me and announces, "I don't want to use the potty. I scared of ladybugs." All bugs are ladybugs.