Author Archives: crabin

Holiday Smackdown

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Before Jacob knew about Christmas

It’s that dizzying time of year.  When everything MUST focus on the holidays. Even the ones you don’t celebrate.  Like, Christmas. I realize that the majority of people in this country celebrate Christmas.  But, my husband, Dan, and I are Jewish.  So, we do not.  Our four-year-old, Jacob, on the other hand, is seriously considering conversion.  He feels woefully deprived.  Not of gifts. (Read: Hannukah.)  But of holiday bling.  The lights.  The tinsel. The sparkly “snow” on the limbs of a Christmas tree. The dazzle factor.

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Maybe It’s Our Own Fault

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JB in front of TV2 7-16-10

Last week, my post was about the conspiracy to make parenting even harder.  The onslaught of “helpful” information. The recalled baby products.  And the pressure to interact with our children in a way that promotes their cognitive development.  (Blah, blah, blah). I’ve had a bit more time to think things over.  And now I’m wondering if maybe we– the parents– are really at the root of the problem.  Maybe WE are the ones making this job even harder than it needs to be.

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Conspiracy Theory

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Oy vey

I don’t mean to sound paranoid.  But is it possible that there is a conspiracy to make parenting even harder?  Before you roll your eyes, hear me out.  I’m sure I will convince you.  And once I do, maybe you can figure out who is behind this.  Who is trying to undermine the hard-working, well-meaning (sometimes fumbling) parents of today?  (Oliver Stone, are you paying attention?) Okay, begin rant.

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Education is Overrated

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Academic Emma

Maybe education is overrated.  I’m not talking about education for school-aged children. I’m talking about education for the under five set.  Preschool.  Baby school.  Perhaps this is a somewhat hypocritical stance for me to take given that I received a number of extra (unnecessary?) years of formal education myself.  But I’m thinking that a fair amount of this ‘learning’ is a wash.  And, in some cases, does more harm than good.  Just a few examples . . .

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Selling our House

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monopoly house

We’ve been trying to sell our house.  FOR.  MONTHS.  You know how the best time to unload a property is in the springtime?  Yeah.  Since then.  Hey, looky there, it’s almost THANKSGIVING.  Yes, we are fast approaching the time of year when the real estate market freezes up until the spring thaw.  Also, did I mention that we bought our house at the height of the market?  (It’s all about timing, people.  Wanna hear which stocks I’m picking to shoot up in the next quarter?)

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Conversations in the Car

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30,000 mile tune up

If you want a fast track to getting an earful of gossip, consider bartending.  Or hairdressing. Or even better still: driving a taxi.  Something about riding in a car just makes people dish. Does it feel like a mobile confessional?  Easier to talk when you don’t have to look anyone in the face?  In any event, the car phenomenon seems to be amplified ten-fold for four-year-olds.  Strap them into their five-point-restraint car seat and suddenly they will tell you EVERYTHING.  More than you ever wanted to know.  About things they couldn’t possibly really know.  (I’m getting exhausted just thinking about it.)

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Emma’s World: Part II

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Emma polishing her blog post

Hi again, folks.  It’s me, your favorite pint-sized blogger.  FINE, MOMMY.  Your favorite pint-sized guest blogger. Whatever.  I’m here to give you the REAL story about what goes on in our family.  Put on your seat belts.

Now, let’s see, where did I leave off last week?  Oh, yes.  It was nearly lunch time and my big brother was usurping MY spot in Mommy’s lap.  Don’t panic, people.  I got him out of there. I gave Daddy a meaningful look . . . while screeching like a banshee.  Daddy understood.  He looked at the big kid square in the eye and said, “As you know, Jacob, Mommy’s lap is just for Emma.  Not you.  GET UP!”  Jacob seemed surprisingly happy about all this.  (Mommy claims that what Daddy actually said was, “Lunch time!  Go wash your hands, Jacob.”  Whatever.  I’m willing to agree to disagree.)

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Emma’s World: Part I

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GUEST BLOG TODAY BY MY ONE-YEAR-OLD, EMMA.

Emma on computer1 10-4-13

Hi, folks.  I understand that Mommy has been telling you some stories about our family. WHATEVER.   You wanna know what really happens in a house with two semi-competent parents, a sweet, lovable (let’s-just-go-ahead-and-use-the-word) brilliant one-year-old and the four-year-old they keep around for my entertainment?  THE WAIT IS OVER.

The time has come to expose the seedy underbelly of . . . Mommy, why are you looking over my shoulder while I type? That’s just rude.  As I was saying, I’m here to tell you what really goes on in our family.  Let’s get started.  A day in the life of Emma.

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Negotiating with my four-year-old

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Collecting leaves 10-20-12

Why is it that I can negotiate with a car dealer but not with my four-year-old?

When I was pregnant with Jacob, I was still driving around in my little thirteen-year-old Geo Prizm.  I saw no reason to give it up.  But everyone was telling me that I NEEDED a bigger car.

“Do babies come with an entourage?” I asked.  “Because this little person is going to start out somewhere in the ballpark of six to nine pounds.  WHY DO I NEED A ROOMY INTERIOR AND CARGO SPACE?” When I said this to people with kids they looked at me like I really shouldn’t be entrusted with a newborn.

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Bragging Parents

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Have I ever mentioned that both of my children are performing FAR above grade level?  Of course, it’s tough to pin down exactly how advanced they are because Emma is only one and Jacob is only four.  Which means they are not actually in grade school.  Or old enough for standardized testing.  (Or, as far as Emma goes, talking.)  But they are ADVANCED.  I can tell.  Jacob is a poet.  If he’s not reciting verse from some cultural touchstone (read: the “Wonder Pets”), he’s running around the playground making up his own rhymes. (MOVE OVER, KEATS.) Sure, he’s usually running around with his shoes on the wrong feet.  And running right by the friend he’s madly searching for. DETAILS.  He is an artiste.  And Emma?  Where do I start?  She is clearly a scientist in the making. Sometimes when I hand her a bottle of milk, she studies it for a moment.  Then shakes it gently up and down.  And watches the milk slosh around.  I’m almost positive she’s trying to determine its molecular structure. Or measuring the volume by sight.  (“Six ounces, Mommy?  SUH-WEEET!”)  Of course, the sloshing is usually a prelude to upending the bottle and watching the milk drain onto the floor.  SOMEONE GIVE THIS GIRL A PIPETTE. Can a Nobel Prize be far off?

Okay, maybe not.

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