Compare and Contrast...Or Maybe Not

I'm not one of those moms who baby their youngest. I've often wondered how that's even possible, since the younger child always wants to try whatever his or her sibling is doing. If anything, they tend to grow up too fast and do more at an earlier age than their siblings. Right?

Lately, I've begun to wonder.

Because it seems that I might have been guilty of underestimating what my daughter is capable of. The problem is, my son was always so darned advanced that Little Miss suffered in comparison. I know you aren't supposed to compare your kids, but it's impossible not to. It's not like I judge them based on the comparisons--that would be mean--but I can't help but set a benchmark based on what my son has been capable of at various ages.

And, unfortunately for my daughter, the kid's fine-motor skills have always been off the charts. Which I didn't realize for a long time because I had nothing to compare it to. Eventually I began suspecting he was more artistically capable than the average kid. I have seen other mothers blanch as they looked at my son's drawings on our refrigerator and then mentally compared them to their own child's scribblings.

My son's drawing of a dinosaur (a Therizinosaurus, no
less--look it up, it's pretty spot-on), done when he
was almost four.

My daughter's drawing of Minnie Mouse, also done
when she was almost four. 

My daughter's fine-motor skills weren't nearly as impressive. Because she wasn't great at drawing, she didn't seem to enjoy it all that much. She didn't show any interest in coloring until she was three-and-a-half; then it would be just five minutes of haphazard scribbling and she'd move on to something else. As a result, I've never really encouraged her to develop her fine-motor skills.

It also doesn't help that, while my son had brand-new markers, 64-pack of crayons, colored pencils, (the works), poor Little Lady has had to make do with half-dried out markers and broken crayon nubs. Not exactly inspiring.

Over the past few months, however, my daughter has gone to some birthday parties with craft themes. I was concerned that the parties might bore her because her preferred party entertainment is usually more of the physical, gymnastics/tumbling nature.

But I've been pleasantly surprised how into it she's been. And actually not all that bad at it, either. Lately, she's been drawing and coloring up a storm and she can't get enough of craft kits. I've been surprised by her coordination and attention to detail, and she's starting to take real pride in her work.

No thanks to Mom.

Oh, sure, I'm trying to make up for lost time: new crayons, setting aside time to color together and do crafts every morning. But I still feel terrible because I've totally been selling my daughter short. I've been treating her like she couldn't do something of which she's more than capable. I've been babying her, I guess.

I hope just I haven't soured her to artistic pursuits or hurt her self-esteem in any way.

I'm sorry, my darling! Let's blame your brother, okay?

Say Yes to the Dress

My four-year-old daughter will only wear dresses. She has dozens of them: long-sleeved winter ones we pair with thick tights; comfortable, everyday cotton ones; light, flouncy sundresses; fancy, poofy, special-occasion ones. Most are hand-me-downs and the rest were bought at inexpensive stores. Luckily, we haven't had to take out a loan to fund her little dress obsession. Yet.

I've noticed the other girls in her preschool class wearing dresses pretty often. It must be the age. I vaguely remember my niece going through a "dresses only" phase when she was little (which morphed into an "anything but dresses" phase).

So I'm pretty sure this too shall pass. And it's not like it's a big deal. It's only clothes, after all. Except that there are times when a fancy frock isn't exactly practical. Take the other day for instance. It was a rare day when we had nothing to do, so my little lady and I decided to hit DD first, then visit a local playground. Here is what she opted to wear:

What would you call that dress? It's like a pinafore, right? She chose a pinafore and strappy, pink, jelly sandals with zero cushioning or traction. Not at all suited for playing in the dirtbox sandbox or climbing rope ladders. Did it slow her down? No. Did she regret her outfit choice? No.

I, however, enviously eyed the other little girls wearing sensible leggings, cargo pants, and sneakers. They looked so comfortable and didn't have to worry about stepping on the front of their dresses while climbing or getting wood chips stuck in their open-toed sandals.

I also don't like it that my sweetie-pie seems to measure her self-worth by how pretty her dress is. I remember one day not too long ago, I somehow managed to convince her to wear leggings. I think it was cold and rainy out and a dress just didn't make sense. The outfit was plenty pink and girly so I thought it would pass muster, but about halfway through the day, my daughter started crying for seemingly no reason.

"What's the matter, baby?" I asked.

"I don't look pretty," she whimpered.

"What? You always look pretty. There's no way you can't look pretty--you are a beautiful girl."

"But my clothes don't look pretty!" she wailed.

So up we went to her room and changed into an appropriately frou-frou dress, and the day was salvaged.

Another time, there was a birthday party at a kids gym. Again, it was coldish outside and because much climbing and tumbling would be occurring, I convinced my darling to wear leggings. Well, we got to the party only to discover that all the other little girls were wearing dresses. I watched her watching them. Her eyes darkened and she looked down at her outfit. I could see her little brain working to process it all.

My daughter at 18 mo. She's wearing leggings, T-shirt,
a brown sweatshirt. She let me dress her until age
two. This outfit would be unacceptable now. 

But she was a trooper. She didn't even mention it. She just she sucked it up and had fun anyway. But you can be sure that when she went to another party at that same venue a month later, she wore a very pretty dress.

I get that my daughter wants to look pretty--that's normal enough. But I do worry that she's taking it a bit too seriously. I don't want her confidence and self-worth to come from how she perceives herself to look.

I'm really hoping this is just a phase, too, and that as she matures, she'll understand that beauty is so much more. Of course we tell her all the time that she's smart, kind, and funny. We make sure to explain that a person can only be truly beautiful if he or she is kind-hearted and good. (Yes, Snow White is pretty, I explain, but what truly makes her beautiful is how nice, caring, and gentle she is to all those she meets.) 

I just hope it's sinking in.

I Couldn't Possibly Have Been This Annoying as a Child, Could I Have?

My son's elementary school is only K through Grade 2. I love that the school is specially geared to meet the needs of this young and impressionable age group, and also that he doesn't have to sit on the bus with rambunctious, huge (to him) fifth graders.

When the kids enter school they are five, and by the time they leave most have turned eight. Three years--no big deal, right? I didn't think so, but then the other day it was brought to my attention just how much older kids are at eight than they are at five.

Last Thursday the Kindergarteners didn't have school because it was orientation for next year's batch of K-ers, but it was a normal day for first- and second-graders. It was finally decent out after a few days of rain and gloom so we headed to the elementary school playground just as school was letting out.

We had the playground to ourselves for a few minutes, but before long the after-school club (kids whose parents work) joined us.

"Where are the Kindergarteners?" one girl asked.

"They didn't have school today. Isn't it soooo much better without them here?" answered a wise-ass boy (to whom I immediately gave the stink eye).

The boys broke off to play football with one of the apathetic high school kids who only do the job because their parents force them to supervisors, while a group of second-grade girls came over to the fire-engine structure where my kids were playing.

The girls climbed to the top, leaned against the bars in a tightly packed group, and began to sing as loudly as possible:

Baby, you light up my world like nobody else,

                            The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed,

But when you smile at the ground it ain't hard to tell,

You don't know, 

Oh oh,

You don't know you're beautiful,

If only you saw what I can see,

You'll understand why I want you so desperately,

Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe,

You don't know,

Oh oh,

You don't know you're beautiful,

Oh oh,

That's what makes you beautiful

I was unfamiliar with the song, though I figured it might be a new tune by Katy Perry or Kelly Clarkson (though it didn't sound slutty enough to be Katy or angry enough to be Kelly). It was vapid and frothy and catchy...one of those new British boy bands, perhaps? So, yeah, I Googled it when I got home. It's "What Makes You Beautiful" by One Direction, for those of you who don't happen to live with a female between the ages of 8 and 18 and therefore have remained blissfully ignorant.

The adorable faces and Bieber-esque
hair of One Direction

Over and over and over and over they screamed sang those words. Never any other part of the song--just those lines. It was super annoying.

The supervisor stopped the football game. He came over and hollered, "Girls! Enough! Sing something else...anything else! PLEASE!" (Ha, not so apathetic now, are you dude?)

Did it work? Of course not. The howling-passing-for-singing continued.

The girls reminded me of myself when I was young, except in those days we sang "Da-Do-Ron-Ron" or tunes from Grease. And that wasn't until fourth or fifth grade. I didn't have any mad crushes on pop stars until I was at least ten.

But nowadays the girls start earlier. Call me crazy but eight just seems way too young to be singing love songs and giggling about boys. 

Now I know what to look forward to when my own Little Lady turns eight. Someone please help me. 

What to Do When Dr. Jekyll Jr. Becomes a Mini Mr. Hyde?

My son used to be the sweetest little boy you could ever meet. Oh, sure, lots of mothers say that, but it wasn't just me who thought so. Over the years, many people have complimented me on how compassionate, kind, even-tempered, and intelligent my son is. "Such a sweet boy!" is something I've heard often.

And then he started Kindergarten. Or maybe it's that he turned six. Not sure what the cause of his behavior change is, but it happened right around then. He has become demanding, short-tempered, and petulant. Oh, not all the time--no, of course not. Our sweet little boy is still in there but unfortunately, we don't see him quite as much as we used to.

Our son, during one of his
less-than-stellar moments

The transition to full-day Kindergarten has been tiring for him. The school bus gobbles my son up at 7:50 a.m. and spits him back out at 3:15 p.m. That is a long day for a six-year-old. But every other Kindergartener is dealing with this same schedule and I doubt all of them have undergone such personality changes. I'm sure the long days have something to do with the behavior changes, though. Our son absolutely adored preschool--he went three days a week and was usually bummed when it wasn't a school day. He loved the activities, teachers, and other kids. He was friends with everyone.

Well, he still loves his teachers and friends, and he enjoys school activities. But now every single morning goes something like this:

"It is a school day today?"

"Yes."

"Awwwwwww!!!! How many more days until the weekend?" (Imagine this uttered in the whiniest voice possible.)

Thankfully, all his bad behavior has (for now, at least) been restricted to when he's home. His school record is still blemish free; in fact, he's one of the only boys in his class whose status has never gone from Green ("Good") to Yellow ("Warning"). During parent/teacher conferences, his teacher raves about him--she literally has never said a less-than-glowing thing about him.

Which is why, when he gets home and rants and raves and orders me around, I'm dumbfounded. What the hell happened to the sweetest boy there ever was?

If this is a temporary thing, then fine, we can ride it out. I understand that kids go through phases and that each kid has his/her own way of dealing with change and stress.

But what if it's not temporary? If it continues, do we punish him for his outbursts? Right now, I'm reluctant to do so because he's in so much pain as it is in those moments, I hate to add to it. But on the other hand, we don't want him thinking he has free reign to be tyrannical whenever he feels like it.

If any of my faithful readers have experience with this, I'd love her hear how the situation panned out for you.

Because we are at a loss.

MTV's Golden Era: From "Video Killed the Radio Star" to "Jeremy"

I am currently reading I Want My MTV: The Uncensored Story of the Music Video Revolution, by Craig Marks and Rob Tannenbaum (pub. date: Oct. 2011). We Gen Xers are, for sure, the book's target audience. If you were between the ages of 10 and 18 when MTV launched in 1981, you will enjoy this book, which covers only what the authors call "MTV's Golden Era": the years 1981 to 1992.

The book's format--an oral history, with quote after interesting quote from musicians, music execs, video directors, VJs, etc.--keeps the book flowing. You get great information without too much dull exposition.

The book begins, well, at the beginning, when MTV was just a gleam in some radio executives' eyes. What's interesting is just how quickly and half-assedly everything was thrown together. They got the okay in January 1981 and were determined to launch on August 1st (when, they figured, kids were home on summer vacation and had nothing better to do than watch videos all day). The founders had seven months to come up with a station name, logo, and catch-phrase; to figure out how to make record companies give them free videos; and to hire all the video disc-jockeys.

The book includes surprising information. For example, I didn't know that Michael Nesmith of the Monkees was one of the main players at the beginning (though he left before MTV even launched due to creative differences with the rest of management). In fact, it turns out that he deserves much of the credit for MTV. In the late 70's, Nesmith developed a show, called PopClips, that played nothing but videos. A pilot was made but it wasn't a success. The concept for MTV was born.

So the origin story is pretty interesting. But the book's strength is the information it shares about all the craziness that occurred behind the scenes of the making of your favorite videos.

"Save a Prayer" video: Nick Rhodes
and John Taylor (on on elephant)

About Duran Duran's "Save a Prayer" video, which was filmed in Sri Lanka, Nick Rhodes says: "John and I were on an elephant, Simon was on one with Andy, and Roger was on one of his own. And they brought a female elephant who let out this enormous noise, which one of the guys in the crew was taping. He thought, Oh, this will be funny, and he played it back through the speakers. Nobody knew that it was her mating call. So the elephant with Roger on its back charges down the swamp and mounts this other elephant. Roger's hanging on for dear life.... If he'd fallen off, he could have been trampled to death. It was funny as hell, but also quite hairy for a moment."

Dr. Magnus Pyke in the "She Blinded
Me With Science" video

This story Thomas Dolby tells about the "Blinded Me With Science" video cracked me up: "My dad, a professor of classical archaeology at Oxford University, was one of the scientists in the video. And we had Dr. Magnus Pyke, a famous British TV personality and bona fide scientist. When I saw him a few years later, he cursed me, because in America, people would walk up behind him in the street and shout, 'Science!' He was a man of accomplishment, and was annoyed by that."

I love that: Sneaking up on a proper Oxford scientist and screaming "SCIENCE!"at him. That's classic America vs. England right there.  

And since this book is about musicians, you'll be happy to know there's plenty of insider info on groupies, drugs, drinking, sex, and inflated egos.

Stevie Nicks in the Arizona desert,
filming the "Hold Me" video

Simon Fields, a video producer, says this about Fleetwood Mac:
"'Hold Me' was a f#*@ing nightmare, a horrendous day in the desert. John McVie was drunk and tried to punch me. Stevie Nicks didn't want to walk on the sand with her platforms. Christine McVie was fed up with all of them. Mick thought she was being a bitch, he wouldn't talk to her. They were a fractious bunch."


And how about this juicy tidbit from Joe Elliott, which will make you want to call up Def Leppard's "Foolin'" on YouTube:

Joe Elliott and his "wedding tackle" in the
"Foolin" video

"...there's a fantastic scene when I'm chained to a pyramid and I break out of the shackles. I sit up and look at the camera and sing, 'Is there anybody out there?' And if you look at the video--which I suggest you do, because it's quite funny--you can see that underneath my white trousers I have on tighty whities. I wasn't wearing them on the first take. [The director] Mallet watched that scene back through the lens and said, 'Dear boy, I can see your wedding tackle. You need to put some underpants on. They'll never show this on the telly if we don't clean it up a bit.'"


So if you watched MTV as much as I did in the 80's, you will definitely get a kick out of this book. I don't know if I'd shell out the $18 Amazon is asking for the hardcover (my copy was a Christmas present--thanks, hon!) but the paperback is coming out in September. It's worth checking out.

Sports Authority

This past Saturday marked the beginning of spring soccer here in our little Westchester town. Unfortunately, though our six-year-old son was signed up, he spent the morning reassembling his Hogwarts Lego instead.

My son played soccer last fall, and every Saturday morning my husband would beg, cajole, and bribe to get him to the field. It would go something like this:

"If you try really hard during practice before the game, then you only have to play half the game." ... "Okay, fine, you can skip the game but only if you try your best during practice, and no moaning."... "C'mon, just try, it'll be fun. We can get a doughnut afterwards."

My poor husband got worn down and gave up the fight. So this spring my kid is playing zero organized sports...with zero organized sports in his future.

Whenever we bring up the idea of my son trying something else--karate or T-ball, say--all we get back from him is, "NO, NO, I hate sports!"

Which isn't exactly true. He loves kicking the ball around with his dad and playing baseball in the backyard. But if he gets any whiff of real competition, forget it.

My husband is bummed. When we learned our firstborn would be a boy, visions of bringing his son to Mets games and bonding over shared love for the team floated through is head. Instead, the boy couldn't care less. Last summer the whole family went to a Mets game. My son enjoyed himself because he loves giant pretzels, cotton candy, and fun-to-climb stadium steps. End of story. Oh, there was a game going on? News to him.

The same goes with football. His favorite thing about it? The "football snacks" (i.e. normally-forbidden junk like Bugles, Doritos & Ruffles) we serve while watching playoff games. I'm sure if someone were to mention the word "Superbowl" to my son today, his mouth would water in anticipation of greasy, salty snacks.

When our son was four and showed little interest in organized sports, I told my husband to be patient. I was pretty sure school would peer-pressure him into caring. Well, Kindergarten is wrapping up in a couple months and there's been no change.

"Do kids in your class talk about the Giants?" my husband asked our son during playoff season.

"Yeah."

"Do they like the Giants? Do they watch games on TV and know about the players and stuff?"

"Uh-huh."

Hmmm, guess that's why the kid's best friends in school are girls.

Our son is athletic enough--you should see him bat, he sends the ball flying. His problem is mental: He's nervous he won't be good and therefore doesn't want to even try. We are reluctant to force him to play sports even though other parents have suggested that's the only way to get your child over his or her fear.

It's gotten so bad that my son doesn't even enjoy himself at sports-themed birthday parties. He's fine if the kids are allowed to roam the gym freely and experiment with the equipment as they choose. But once he hears, "Okay, let's all line up, this is what we're going to do" he's OUT.

I recently had to RSVP "no" to a party for one of his classmates because the party venue was the scary-sounding Sportime. My husband has had enough of my son complaining and not participating at sports parties so he just won't go anymore. The way I see it is no cake and gift bag for you if you don't play along. What kid doesn't want to go to a birthday party? That cannot be normal. It's very frustrating.

I don't know...he's only six. There's still time. Maybe it'll happen on its own.

Or maybe it won't. Which is okay, too.

Things I'm Sad My Kids Won't Experience

The world has changed so much over the past few decades. Many of the changes are incredible and awesome, but not all. Occasionally, I'll catch myself thinking fondly about something I did or experienced when I was younger, and it will occur to me that, because the world is so different now, my kids probably won't have the pleasure of that experience.

Here are some things I'm bummed they'll (probably) miss out on:

I remember being 12 and going to the
record store to buy my brother an Ozzy
record for his birthday. This album
cover was an education.

Poring Through Records at a Divey, Yet Excellent, Record Store
Remember when the only way to learn what the singers of the songs you loved looked like was through the record store? Remember wasting countless hours trying to decide which album to spend your allowance money on? And the record store was educational, too: How else was I going to learn about Satanism if not via Ozzy Osbourne's album covers?

Receiving a Love Letter in the Mail
I don't mean to brag but I've received a few love letters in my day. Sure, I've gotten love emails too, but there is no comparison: Hand-written sweet nothings beat those printed out on 8.5 x 11 computer paper any day.

MTV Circa 1982
The town I grew up in didn't get cable until practically the 90's (boo!). But the next town over got it in the early 80's, and luckily my grandparents lived in that town (yay!). Whenever we'd go over their house for dinner, my brother and I would turn on MTV, sit on the floor a foot from the screen, and become zombified for hours. It was the most awesome thing ever invented and I was completely obsessed. I think we somehow even convinced the adults to let us leave the TV on DURING DINNER. I remember jumping up from the table mid-turkey-eating and running into the family room upon hearing the beginning strains of INXS's "The One Thing." Michael Hutchence was so hot in that video my tween self could hardly handle it. MTV blew my mind on a regular basis back then.

No idea where this photo is from, but this is pretty
much how I remember it. 

A Huge Blizzard (Like the One in 1978) That Closes School for Weeks
Okay, so it's possible. But if this winter is any indication of how this Climate Change thing is going, massive blizzards are a thing of the past. I will never forget, in 1978, opening up our front door to find an impenetrable wall of snow. Poor grown-ups: Their cars were buried, the shoveling was murder, and their annoying kids were home from school for two weeks. But for us kids it was unbelievable: School was cancelled for two weeks (!!), and all we did was build epic forts and sledding tracks that led downhill from the front yards of our houses to the back. Incredible speeds were attained, no helmets were worn, much hot chocolate was drunk. Legendary.

Visiting a Europe Where the Residents Actually Seem Foreign
My mother is British so we spent a lot of family vacations in England, and back in the 70's and 80's (and even the early 90's) there was very little American influence over there. One or two McDonalds in London, maybe. The city was still very Dickensian then--stark, historic, beautiful, and so, so different from America. My last visit to London was in 2005, and I spent the whole trip marveling at how American the city looked and felt. The ratio of quaint, dingy pubs to garish, cheesy chain stores had officially tipped in the wrong direction. I'm sure it's even worse now. The same goes for Paris, Rome, Madrid, etc. Too bad. Where does a person have to go to escape America's clutches?

But on the other hand, technological advances have certainly made life better in many ways. Here's a list of a few things I'm glad my kids (hopefully) will never have to suffer through:

Catching the Chicken Pox
Using a Fax Machine
Dial-Up Internet
Acid-Wash Jeans
MS-DOS
And the worst of the worst: 
Having to Type Up Their College Applications One-By-Excruciating-One