Buying the 1950's American Housewife Dream

I have a confession.

Last night I may have been bamboozled.  Okay, so bamboozled is too strong a word.  Taken?  Tricked?  Sold a bill of goods?

Or maybe I just bowed to peer pressure and a bit of Sangria.

Last night I spent $50 on cleaning rags.

A great friend had a cleaning supplies party and I went swearing to myself that I wouldn't buy anything.

Why?

Another confession coming.

I don't clean.

Well, I sweep the floors and wipe down the counters and do the toilets and that kind of a thing but a few years ago, when I was pregnant with Noah, we decided that one of the small sanity-savers we would invest in was having someone come to help us clean our home.  And indeed, she is a sanity saver.

But here I am, sitting at a house party where one woman is nearly in tears of excitement over mops and mini-blind wipers and dust mite spray for your bed.  We're dashing around the kitchen scrubbing burners with a kind of a steel wool thing and getting positively giddy over the shine.  We're marveling over the grime on her floor that the magic broom picks up.

The hostess is wiping vaseline on the mirror and cleaning it off.  Now that one seemed like a no brainer to me,  don't kiss your own reflection in the mirror and you should be fine.

Where am I?  What am I doing?

Don't get me wrong, it was a great group of women.  Fun night, fun conversation and a fun reason to get out for a girls' night.

But I don't clean.

But then again...maybe if I had fancy rags, maybe I would.  Maybe these fancy rags would somehow make something easier and better and smarter and more fun.  Maybe these fancy rags would make me look cute in an apron and give me the time to make a good dinner every night.  Maybe these rags would get rid of my allergies and asthma.  Maybe these rags would allow me to live the working mom dream.  Maybe these rags would change our lives completely and totally! 

I can have it all!

I am a cleaning queen!

I can do it!

And before you know it, I was pulling out the pen and buying $50 worth of rags.

Oh Molly, you work in marketing, you should have known better.





But...if it works and it does revolutionize my life, I'll be sure to let you all know and will be happy to sell you the dream too tell you all about it.  Happy Friday and happy weekend cleaning.

Who in the world is Justin Bieber?

We had an interesting conversation at dinner the other night.

It started with me being both old and, evidently out of touch as the mom of boys, asking:

Who in the word is Justin Bieber anyways?

Fascinating thing happened next.  Caleb, who is in second grade, knew he was a singer.  Noah, the first grader, hadn't a clue (which I think puts my knowledge of current pop culture somewhere around the first grade level).

I asked Caleb how he knew who he was:

I don't know.  A bunch of the girls in my class all have "I Love JB" shirts.  They really don't know who he is either.  But their parents got them for them and the other girls have them, so they all wear them anyway.

Image from CafePress

I may be the mom of only boys.  And while I was (still am, actually) a girl, I realize I may be out of touch with the current realities of raising them.

But this bothered me.

It's hard enough to be a girl.  Heck, I did it 25-30 years ago.  There are pressures to be cute.  To be thin.  To have the right friends.  To say the right things.  To walk and talk the right way.  To like the right boys.  And there are certainly pressures to wear the right clothes.  And the older you get, the worse it gets.

And let me be the first to say, I wore some pretty ridiculous clothes in my day.  (Those of you who know me will recall the Madonna days.)  Some I chose myself and some, I am sure, were influenced by others.

But these girls are seven and eight.  I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that they aren't buying their own clothes.

And, in my humble opinion, when you are eight you should love bikes and playgrounds and friends and families.  Not 16-year-old pop stars.

What bothered me most was his comment that they didn't really seem to know who he was, but they all had the shirts already, so they wore them. 

Do we really need to put them on that path already?  I know I am probably over-thinking it.

But maybe not.

They'll be dealing with crushes and getting crushed soon enough.

Wordless Wednesday - Sometimes It's Okay to Ask for Help

Or, perhaps more aptly titled:

Why Hiring a Branding Consultant Might Be a Really Good Idea

This gas station opened recently.  And just about as fast as it opened, it closed.  I can't say I was surprised.

A Night of Fabulous Social Awkwardness

On Saturday, Brian, our friend Krissy, and I went to The Twilight Hours concert.

This in itself is news.  Two concerts in a month is unheard of us. 

The three of us haven't gone to a concert together since January 1990 when Krissy came down to Chicago to go to the Duran Duran reunion concert on campus.

By the way, when you go to a concert in January in Chicago you leave fashion behind.  It's cold.

But we scored a sitter for all four kids and headed to see The Twilight Hours (which includes two of the former members of Trip Shakespeare).  And even if they didn't, they'd still be a fabulous band.

Anyhew, it was pretty much a night where I felt like I was 17 again.  But not in that I am so young and fun way.  More in that, wow am I ever socially awkward, sometimes, way.

How?

Well first, they had a contest via their web site where the winner got to meet the band and have a meal with them or something like that.  So of course, we entered.  Again, always the bridesmaid, never the bride, we both won posters.

Nothing says I am a 35-year-old professional woman like hanging an autographed poster in your office (which yes, I have done).

The show itself was excellent. 

And afterwards, they announced they'd be in the lobby to meet fans and sign autographs.

We headed that way.  But not before I spotted someone that I had only ever communicated with via Twitter.  And so I walked up and introduced myself by saying,

"Hi, I'm Molly...from Twitter."  

Really, I need a better intro.  Must work on that.

I think Brian's reflections on what happened next are really better than anything I could describe, so I'll share his comments.

"It was hilarious to watch the two of you absolutely regress into your teenage personalities.  Krissy was bold and confident and Molly just stood back and quietly smiled and let Krissy do the talking.  It was like two 17-year-old girls stuck in grown up lives."

Here's what it looked like.

Notice I am not anywhere in any of those?  Yup, because I was hiding behind her.

However, we did manage to pose for a quick photo with Matt, which Krissy, seeing it afterward, asked:

"Not sure if that is a look of amusement or terror in his eyes."

I am going with terror.

And pretty sure in this one he is about to say,

"Oh my, get these crazy girls out of here."

So yes, we rocked the dork.  But we had fun doing it.

And I have an autographed poster to prove it.

That said, I'll leave you with one of their performances.

Learning How To Ride a Bike - Using the Balance Bike Method

Sunday was amazing.  No, seriously, amazing in that little-steps-that-mean-big-things parenting kind of a way amazing.

We have these two kids who have refused to learn how to ride a bike.  Okay, calling spades the spades they are, those kids are Caleb and Noah.  Cause really, it wasn't like you thought it was Eli, right?

Part of it was our own fault.  Two years ago, when it was really "time" to learn, I ended up on bedrest.

And then we had a preemie.

And then a newborn followed by an infant followed, well, by just life.  And in all of that, the big kids never learned how to ride bikes.  They are now tall enough that they don't even seem to make bikes with training wheels for kids their sizes anymore.  We were in trouble.

Then again, up until now, the kids have been content to just use their scooters.  Us?  Not so much.

Every time we would suggest it, we would get whining and crying and massive protestations.  Massive.  "THE NEIGHBORS HAVE THEIR WINDOWS OPEN, STOP IT!" protestations.  No fun at all.

Brian was researching new bikes the other day because, well, because our kids now look like circus clowns on their old, teeny bikes.

And in doing so, he came across a bike called the balance bike.

The whole philosophy is that kids first just need to learn how to balance.  Forget the pedaling.  The idea is to learn how to balance your body.  You add in the pedaling later.  And so that particular bike has no pedals.

Perhaps we had been going about it all wrong.   We had started with training wheels.  We then took off one.  And then two.  And the promptly had crying, whining "I can't" kids who refused to do any more.

So we started over Sunday.  But we didn't buy a balance bike.  We did it on our own.  Instead of focusing on removing the training wheels (which we did leave off, we took off the pedals.)

As we thought about it we realized that Caleb had kind of been trying to do that on his own, but the pedals kept getting in the way and frustrating him.

[And no, he is not Anakin Skywalker.  I have no idea why he is wearing one glove.]

You have the child get on the bike and just walk it around, toe to toe, wobbling back and forth from foot to foot.  Getting a sense of their center of balance.

After awhile, it helps here to have a small hill, you encourage them to pick up their feet for a few seconds at a time and let the bike roll.

And before you know if you have this.



Within an hour.  An hour.  Years of fighting about it.  And in an hour it was done.

It worked for Noah too.  Our kids are now riding bikes.  Full out up and down the hill, pedaling, riding bikes.

And yes, we are just a little bit giddy about it.

On Being Who We Are

My friend, Missy, over at The Marketing Mama, has been sharing pieces of one of her recent presentations about getting into blogging.  And in the past few segments, she has mentioned us (with our permission).

When she asked me about it, it got me to stop and think about this interesting blogging world and my take on privacy, what we share, what we don't.  As you probably have realized, we're pretty open.

Here are snippets of the email I sent to her along with some added comments:


When I first started my blog back in the fall of 2007 it was truly a silly way to announce to our friends and family that we were no longer the Snyder 4 but now expecting the Snyder fifth, or, easier said, The Snyder 5.

Absolutely every single person who read it knew us.  And from then on, most days, we had 2-6 readers.

And so it continued for more than two years.  Until one day it didn't.  And suddenly other people started reading.  And commenting.  And asking questions.

All of the sudden it became very clear that it was no longer just my parents and my co-worker, Amy (hi Amy!), reading.

I went through a bit of a mini-crisis about it then.  Okay, so crisis is too strong a word.  But I really stopped to think about it.

I did some researching and I did some reading. 

And then it hit me.  I work in marketing.  I am a pretty strong extrovert.  I am already "out there" online.  Anyone who wants to could find us already. 

Yet I am also a cautious parent.  I have a hawk-like watchful eye.

But still, we needed to just live our life on and offline as we would anyways.

If I was really going to "let" my blog go there, I needed to do it on my own terms.  To let it be public.  To really be legitimate, I was going to have to be me.  Not a whole lot of mystery.  My name is really Molly.  Brian is really Brian and our kids are really Caleb, Noah and Elijah.

And that is what is a comfortable fit for us.  It's not for everyone.  And I respect that.

I don't want to blog about anything that will embarrass my kids or my husband or me in the future.  And I would like both of us to keep the jobs we love so much.  There are things I won't blog about.  And there are things that I will.  I figure out all those lines and boundaries as I (and we, as a family) cross them. 

But I seek to be real. 

My goal is just to document.  To share.  To laugh.  To reflect.

And I sincerely hope that, for those of you I do know, that you would say, "Yup, that is her talking."

And for those of you I don't, I hope you'd agree, should we ever meet in person that this is just a refelction of us at a moment in our lives.

And like I say about most things in life: To each his (or her) own.  Just be you.  Be true to what is right for you and your family.

Day 24 of the 500 Pound Declutter - The Laundry Room

In all honesty, my laundry room is just an extension of my storage room.  But clearly that was too big a project to tackle at all once.


But it was time.

My unique challenge was that this not only is my laundry room wall.  But it has also turned into the beer-brewing home base.

We have started brewing our own beer at home.  Another post for another time.  But with beer brewing comes a lot of stuff.

So here was where we started.

Let's all sing it together, "99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer..."

Almost immediately, I came across this.  Yes, it is what it looks like.  A boomerang.  Evidently I needed a weapon around just in case something creepy happened in the basement late one night while I did laundry.

You think I am kidding?  Look what I found next.  Pretty sure she just didn't know how to use the boomeramg.

Laundry room counters are the dumping ground for the random stuff that goes through the wash in pockets.  Stuff like this.

And this.

Here is my tip on that front.  Throw it away.  Well, not the money.  But random beads and shells and rubber animals.  The kids will not miss them.  If they didn't care enough to keep them out of the wash, they won't care if they land in the trash.


However, the good news is that this is the first decluttering project where I stand to make some money as everywhere I went I seemed to find some.

I reorganized all of the empty beer bottles and got all of the beer stuff organized in a less leaning-tower-of-beer way.  And pulled out a small a decorative box.  In the future, I will toss loose change and the pocket stuff that needs to be kept in there.

From there, I moved over to the laundry sink counter.

But not before noticing this.

Evidently even plastic chameleons have the ability to camouflage themselves.  Who knew?

Started in on the laundry sink.

And yes, along the back wall for those of you who also grew up in the 1980s, are Mad Balls.  What, you don't keep them in your laundry sink, too?

After removing said Mad Balls, I discovered this little guy.  I mean really, how in the world did he land there.  And why?

All in all, it took me about 45 minutes to do this chunk of the room.  Ending up with a wall that looks like this.

And in doing so, I managed to purge another 7 pounds of clutter.  So our grand total is now:

412 pounds

Added bonus, I also found $1.37, 10 Mexican pesos and a flattened penny from the San Diego zoo.

How the Attendance Award Ruined Us

This week, I have spent two days home with sick kids.


Monday, Noah, who always wants to go to school, managed to whimper, "I don't think I can go to school today."

That wasn't really a question.  His temperature was nearly 104, he had a nasty stomach bug and slept 20 hours the day before.


Then he asked, in his delirium, if that meant he wouldn't be able to get the Attendance Award this year.


It suddenly hit me.  The Attendance Award is a horrible byproduct of our educational system.  (I know that sounds overly-dramatic, but go with me here for a second.)

  Image from brainwaves.net

Early on, we are taught that simply showing up, everyday, is a reason to parade you around in an all-school assembly.

And now we're grown ups.  We get sick.  Sometimes really sick.  Or worse, really, really germ-y.  Yet, we show up.  We play the hero.  We laud the people who haven't taken a sick day in 10 years.  We fight through it.  We cough and sniffle and complain (and drive all of our coworkers and cubemates crazy). 

Why?  Other than the obvious "I'm trying to save PTO," I think there is something else going on.

I think we just might have this strange thing we learned in our childhood.  I think we are still trying to win the attendance award. 

We are still trying to be the good student employee.  And defining good by the fact that we were there.

Consider the flip side.


Eli is in daycare.  He spiked a fever of 103 on Wednesday and got sent home.  I had to sign a form agreeing that I would not bring him back until he was fever-free for 24 hours.  And while, as a working parent, that can be a bear to hear, I get it.  No need to share the germs.  Go home and rest and just be sick.  Watch a soap opera Yo Gabba Gabba and get better.  Don't be a hero.  And don't get the rest of us sick.

I wish we could all adopt the daycare model.  People get sick.  And that is okay.  We're still good people, we just got sick.

Simply said, I think the Attendance Award needs to go away.  I think it just might do wonders for the American work psyche.


(This is not specific to any job or employer.  And in full disclosure, I say this having been a pretty sickly kid who never won the attendance award.  So maybe I am just bitter that I never got the medal, but I don't think so.)

Composting for Newbies

Happy Earth Day!

While there are endless things I could talk about today, I thought I'd hone in on one.

I have a confession.

I am a newbie composter.  As many efforts as we have made to be green around our home, composting has been kind of a holdout.  We have been taking our yard clippings to the county compost pile for ages.  But just now are we really starting to collect all of the materials that can be composted together.

Why?

• Our yard is the size of a postage stamp. We have no room for a bin or box or pile.
• I'd like for our neighbors to continue to like us and have worried about the possibility of a smell.  I know, I know, it's not supposed to smell.  But I still worry about it.
• Even if we did compost, I don't know what we'd do with all of it.  Did I mention our yard is the size of a postage stamp?  I don't really need that much organic material.

That said, even if you don't (or can't) have your own compost bin, I have realized that you can be an active composter by collecting more than just your yard clippings and taking it all to your community compost site.

First, let's start with just a sampling of the stuff you can compost.  Here are some of my favorites (as in things we generate plenty of):

• Coffee grounds (and filters)
• Tea Bags
• Used paper napkins, kleenex, paper towels, paper plates (non-waxy) and paper bags
• Pizza boxes (rip them up first)
• Old bread and plain pasta
• Paper egg cartons
• Paper muffin cups
• Hair and pet fur
• Dryer lint and vacuum cleaner lint (I love this one!)
• 100% wool or cotton materials
• Pencil shavings

And some fun compost-related ideas:

1. Buy a mini Compost Pail from Crate and Barrel

We received one of these for Christmas as a gift and I love it.  It's attractive to look at (for a compost bin) and comes with charcoal-filters so there are no odors.

You just keep it in your kitchen and toss any and all compost-able materials in it.  When it fills up, add it to your bag of yard clippings and bring it to your compost site. I am amazed by how much less we are running the disposal and emptying the trash.

2. Eat Sun Chips

Okay, sounds silly, but have you seen their new 100% compostable chip bags?  SunChips has come up with a way to create a chip bag that, in just 14 weeks, will be completely composted.  Only downside is that the bags are loud.  Like really loud.  Not while composting, but while you grab handfuls of chips and shove them into your face eat out of them.  But, looking at the bright side of that, you'll also be less tempted to sneak some when no one is looking.

Now if only they could figure out a way to make a chip that didn't leave a trace on my hips!


3. Do mini-composting on your own
I posted a few weeks ago about creative uses for egg cartons.

One of the tips I had come across was to save the shell halves and put them back in the carton.

Then you drop the seeds in and cover them with dirt.

Then just care for them as you would other seedlings.  Once they sprout, you cut the carton apart and plant each section, in its entirety, in the ground.

Did you do an Earth Day post?  Link it up here, then grab the code and throw it on your blog so we can all share the great tips, ideas and information.

It Drives Me Nuts That You Can't Recycle...Infant Car Seats

I've been doing this feature for a bit now where I dig into recycling questions.

Why can't we recycle something?

Or can we?

Along the way, several of you have asked great questions about things you always wondered if you could recycle (or why you couldn't).  Jamie was one of those people.

She wrote me and asked

"Why can't we recycle car seats?"

Now most of us who are parents know that car seats have an expiration timeframe.  That their safety and efficacy wears out over time.  That if you are ever in an accident, you should get a new one.  And that you should never buy one used.

Which leads to the question: So what happens to all of the car seats out there?  More than 4 million babies are born in the USA each year.  It's safe to assume that most of them have a car seat.

What happens to all of those car seats?

Typically you hear the following advice:

• Destroy it!
• Cut it to bits!
• Pulverize it!
• And then bag it up in separate trash bags! (Geez, sounds like a crime scene.)

But I am ridiculously excited to tell you that there is another option.  You can recycle it!

There is a company called Baby Earth and they have a recycling program.  Through that program, they will take:

• Strollers
• Car Seats
• Swings
• Jumpers
• High Chairs
• Diaper Bags

FOR FREE!  They then disassemble the items and send the various parts and pieces off to be recycled (fabrics, plastics, metals, etc.).

All you have to do is pay to ship it yourself.  Seriously.  A few bucks and the ability to say that you were not one of the 4 million car seats that went to a landfill last year.  And, to sweeten the deal, they will send you a $5 coupon for their site just for doing it. They have an extensive line of baby clothing, gear, eco-friendly items and more to shop from.

Do you have a question about something you wish you could recycle?


*I have not been compensated in any way for this post.  Just writing about it because I want to.

Wordless Wednesday - The Ultimate Sign of Spring

Sure you know it's spring here in Minnesota when the snow finally melts, when the rains wash away the salt and sand, then the grass turns, when the tulips pop.


But really?  Really you know it's spring when at 7:00 at night you can walk to your local Dairy Queen for ice cream.

 

 

Minnesota Bloggers Get Together on May 20

(If you are looking for information on the Blogger Rummage Sale, click here)

Back in January, 40 Minnesota bloggers gathered to meet, connect, talk, and then volunteer at Feed My Starving Children.

I went without knowing a soul there.  And came out with what felt like a whole new community, new ideas, new friends and new connections.


People enjoyed it so much, we decided we'd try to arrange a group to do similar social/charitable activities a few times a year.


As those of you who have been reading my blog know, I have been one of the blogging correspondents for the Child Hunger Ends Here campaign with ConAgra Foods. (By the way, there is a great online celebrity auction to support the cause here.)

So I offered to organize (note I didn't say host, you all get to pay for yourselves) the second Minnesota Bloggers Get Together. 

Here's the scoop:

Second Minnesota Bloggers Get Together

Thursday, May 20, 2010

5:30 - ?

Nye's Polonaise Polka Room

During this event, I will be collecting monetary and food shelf donations, so please consider bringing a contribution. 

Monetary donations will benefit Feeding America.  

Food donations will be given to Second Harvest Heartland.

All are welcome, regardless of whether a contribution is made.

No formal agenda, just a chance to meet and hang out.

All attendees will be entered to win a Child Hunger Ends Here prize pack.

#MinnBloggersEvent (on Twitter)

If you'd like to join us, simply RSVP by commenting here.  Please include:

Name (as, if forced to wear a nametag, you'd want it to appear)
The name and url for your blog
Twitter name (if you have one)

I look forward to seeing many of you there in a few weeks!  Feel free to spread the word.

The Night I Beat Out Fanta

Life has a way of getting to us from time to time, doesn't it?


When it's all just a lot.  When the stresses outweigh the light moments.  When the mess overtakes the order.  When the "have to's" far outnumber the "want to's."


Saturday was one of those days.  I was home alone with the kids most of the day.  They were loud and wild and, from time to time, at each other's throats.  I had a birthday cake to make.  And I was bombing at it.  We had obligations and meetings and places to be and groceries to get.


And I was crabby.   And I snapped at the kids.  More than I should have.  But I did.  And they snapped at each other.  And then it all happened again.


I was just in a funk.


That night, Noah had a party to go to and Eli crashed early.


So it was just Caleb and Brian and I for dinner.  We talked.  We laughed.  We ate steak.  It was simple and good.


Our kids rarely get to have a soda.  But Caleb asked towards the end of the night if, because it was a special night with just him and us here, if he could have a Fanta orange soda.


We agreed.

He turned to head to the basement to grab one from the fridge.

And then he stopped for a minute and thought.  He changed his mind and asked, instead, if he could go to bed and I could cuddle with him while he fell asleep.

I tried not to burst into tears on the spot.  Here it was, the day I snapped at them and was crabby and had them in time outs.  The day I was not the happiest of moms.  The day that wouldn't go down in the books as one of my best.  And here is was the day that he wanted to end his day cuddling with me.

I beat out Fanta.

He picked me.

As we lay there and I watched him fall asleep, I smiled and cried.  My arm started to fall asleep and I tried to disengage from the cuddle and he grabbed my fingers and held them tighter.   And so I let my arm tingle and go numb.

Thank you dear C for the reminder of why we do all this. 

Elijah Turns 2

Details on the Betty Crocker Giveaway are at the end of the post.

Today is Elijah's birthday.  Today he turns two.

We've come a long way since he looked like this little guy.

We gathered with my family and the now infamous cake to celebrate on Sunday.  It was a gorgeous day here in Minnesota, so we were able to sit on my parent's front porch for cake and presents.

Here are some of the images from the day.

With his cousin Elliette.

Opening the Yo Gabba Gabba kite and ball from his brothers.

Throwing the ball.

My parent's dog, Rigby, was quite intrigued by the dancing Yo Gabba Gabbe Brobee doll.

Blowing out the candles on his cake.  Hard to see in the photo, but you put the candles in sideways on the cake to make them look like the rockets.  If you make this cake, I would recommend making sure there is something under the candles as they dripped.  Doh. 

Asking for help getting a bite of cake.

This cracked me up, it looks like Elliette is saying "You're not really going to eat a bite that big, are you???"

And to that, Eli's response would be "Oh yes I am!"

We closed out the day with a bike ride, during which Eli's food coma (and lack of a nap) hit and he crashed.

As I mentioned over the weekend, in addition to Betty Crocker providing me with the coupons, gift card, camera and information to make Eli's cake, they have also offered to give one of my readers  a great prize pack to make your own cake.  Want to be a part of it?  Head over here for details and to enter. 



I am also linking this up over on Mom n' Me Monday where moms step out from behind the camera and actually appear in the photos for once.