I’ve said before how much I detest meal planning. I don’t mind the actual preparation, for some reason — it’s the figuring out WHAT to prepare that stumps me every time.

I’ve tried planning a week in advance, but somehow, that just doesn’t work with my fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants personality. I scrapped that method after several different tries over a period of several years. I almost always end up dissatisfied with my choice for the day, so then I’m back to having to make a different plan.

Now here we are, a scant 8 school days left, and I’m thinking ahead to the long days of summer vacation and all the meals I’m going to have to prepare for my four children, one of whom is quite picky. Thinking about that makes me want to cry.

One thought I’ve had is to make each child in charge of lunch one day per week. Lunch is the easy, light meal, so even if it’s just sandwiches, they’re at least getting some meal preparation experience, right? That will at least give me a break for four lunches a week. Maybe, in addition, I’ll pair them up (one girl + one boy) to pick out a recipe and make it for supper one night of the week. They don’t have time to do that during the school year and I want them to get some practice anyway.

Yes, I think that’s what I’ll do. They’ll get some cooking experience and I’ll get some relief in the meal planning department. It’s win-win, though I doubt they will agree with that assessment.

Now, anyone have some quick, easy, tried-and-true recipes to share?

You see, I never believed in Santa as a child. He was just an imaginary figure who represented Christmas, similar to The Easter Bunny being the patron of Easter. (OK, so I did believe in the Tooth Fairy, but that’s a different story entirely.)

My parents didn’t want my sisters and me to focus on getting presents for Christmas and they felt that believing in Santa precipitated this tendency. As Christians, Christmas is about celebrating Jesus’ birth and they didn’t want anything to take away from that. I have never, not for one instant, felt that I missed out.

Due to this lack of Santa nostalgia, I didn’t really care to create the illusion for my own kids. The kids’ dad, however, grew up believing in Santa and firmly believes that it’s an extremely fun, and therefore necessary, part of Christmas.

So I tried to compromise by telling the kids that Santa would fill their stockings, but that they would get their gifts from us and other relatives. (In yet another related confession, I will admit that I just don’t want to give Santa credit for the presents that I painstakingly picked out, paid for and wrapped. I want the kids to know they’re from ME. Juvenile? Immature? Perhaps. But there it is.)

The girls didn’t really ask me too many Santa-related questions, other than the typical “how-will-Santa-get-in-the-house-if-we-don’t-have-a-chimney” type, which made me uncomfortable enough. Not being familiar with Santa trivia, I’d  blurt out an answer, feeling like a total fraud and liar as I did so.

Obviously the girls don’t believe in Santa anymore. This year, however, the boys have been making assumptions. Assumptions for which I am completely unprepared. Which is why I just about ended the Era of Feeling Uncomfortable as I Make Up Yet Another Lie for the Sake of Keeping Up the Santa Myth That I Don’t Even Believe.

“I really hope I get a Mario toy for Christmas,” Cody lamented last week as he and Logan sat in the back seat.

Since I’ve looked online a bit for said Mario toy and have seen just how uncommon they seem to be, I said, “Well, Cody, I think Mario toys are pretty hard to find.”

“Well, Santa can get me one,” Cody said.

“Remember, Santa only fills your stockings. He doesn’t give you presents,” I replied automatically.

“Oh, that’s OK. I’m sure there are plenty of Mario toys that will fit in my stocking. And it doesn’t matter if they can be bought or not because Santa’s elves can just make them,” he assured me.

I was speechless. How on earth was I supposed to reply to this? The temptation to inform the boys that Santa would, in fact, not be able to commission a Mario toy or two from his elves because he wasn’t even real, overwhelmed me. How upset would they be? Would they cry? Think I was lying?

“Maybe,” I finally said, dropping the subject.

Part of me is sorry that I didn’t just end the fantasy right then and there, since the likelihood of a Mario toy being in Cody’s stocking is slim to none and I don’t know how I’m going to explain its absence. I’m tired of answering uncomfortable questions for which I have no good answer. (Why don’t they ever ask their dad these questions? He probably knows all the right answers.) Would it really be that heartbreaking to find out that Santa is just imaginary? I have no idea.

I guess I’ll struggle through for now, though I’m just waiting for the time when one of the boys asks me why some of their friends get presents from Santa and they don’t. There are so many inconsistencies in the Santa story (for instance, how does a parent deal with the question of why Junior’s friend got better presents from Santa than he did?). I wish we could either all agree on one, i.e., Santa only fills stockings, or just scrap it altogether.

How do you handle the Santa phenomenon? What would you say to a child who is clearly expecting Santa to deliver a certain gift or stocking stuffer, when you know perfectly well that it ain’t gonna happen?

My mom saves less than my grandma, but still quite a bit more than I do. She’s been known to save buttons, glass jars, scraps of material and plastic containers with abandon.

I seem to have picked up a little of that mentality too, though my mom has looked at me with something like disbelief/disapproval as I’ve pitched certain things. I freely toss plastic bags, aluminum foil and even, gasp, glass jars. I have a hard time not saving certain things though, “just in case.” It seems like I’ll get tired of something or it’ll not work quite right, so I’ll put it in the attic and then a few years later, I’ll need or want it again. Or I’ll save a cool-looking bottle or jar, thinking that I might want to use it someday.

Right. Decisions like that usually cost me a lot of storage space and cleaning time, particularly since I don’t even remember what I’ve saved.

My kids think just about everything is disposable, and totally replaceable, just because so many household items are today. We have disposable containers, disposable plates, batteries, you name it. That’s what the kids see, so when something happens to an expensive item, they say, “Well, we can just get a new one.” Uh, no. They, particularly the younger ones, don’t have a clue how to put a value on their belongings.

The boys each got a Leapster for Christmas. Cody has that GameBoy obsession I referred to in my post, The GameBoy Addiction, so I thought a Leapster might be a good gift for him since it’s supposed to be educational. Sure enough, like many toys before them, both Leapsters have already started acting funny, most likely because they have been dropped on the floor more than once. <<gritting teeth>>

When I said that the Leapster just probably isn’t working right anymore, Cody nonchalantly said he’d just get a new one. I tried to explain that Leapsters are not cheap and that once it breaks, that’s it, so he better learn to take care of it. He just looked at me with a blank expression, clearly not understanding why this wasn’t as replaceable as a roll of toilet paper.

I’m sure it’s hard for little kids in this century to grasp which things are disposable and which are not (can you say “dollar store?”), but I think it’s important to teach them to respect and take care of their belongings anyway.

Some day we might not have the luxury of throwing things away so easily.

What do you think about the disposable mentality and its effect on kids?

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ψ  The older my kids get, the older I look.

ψ  The days of picking up and leaving without a second thought are a very distant memory.

ψ  The grocery bill. Need I say more?

ψ  Having to play endless rounds of “Candyland.” (I hate that game!)

ψ  Seeing my children get hurt, physically or mentally.

ψ  Knowing that these innocent little sweethearts are going to turn into acne-riddled/moody/hormonal/awkward/rebellious (or, if I’m really unlucky, all of the above) teenagers before I know it.

ψ  They make my hair go even grayer than it already is.

Really, now that I’ve made this list, I’m realizing that there’s so much more positive than depressing in being a parent. I had to think hard to come up with the last one.

How about you? Indulge your inner griper for a moment and list the things that depress you about being a parent.

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]]> http://www.parentingbytrialanderror.com/2009/09/03/the-depressing-side-of-parenthood/feed/ 3 http://www.parentingbytrialanderror.com/2009/08/26/oh-my-puffy-eyes/ http://www.parentingbytrialanderror.com/2009/08/26/oh-my-puffy-eyes/#comments Thu, 27 Aug 2009 04:03:25 +0000 Sarah E. Ludwig http://parentingbytrialanderror.com/?p=1840 I was going to post something profound, witty and life-altering today, but I find myself barely able to function this evening, much less dole out gems of wisdom to the masses.

You see, it’s sunflower season.

Sunflowers are one of my top three favorite flowers. They’re majestic, stately, yet beautiful. I drive by a field full and I want to just stop and stare for hours.

However, right now, I am cursing their existence as I sit here with my eyes swollen half shut, my throat feeling like it’s starting to close up, wiping the continuous dripping faucets that used to be my nose and eyes and now feeling the beginnings of a nasty headache.

I used to be allergic to just about everything on the planet. Then, somehow, in the past year or so I dropped just about every allergy I ever had, according to my doctor.

Except for sunflowers and their close relatives. Of course.

So. I have nothing profound or life-changing to share today.

Unless you want to hear tips on how to most effectively keep a Kleenex shoved up your nose…

Didn’t think so.

Oh, and just so you know how truly miserable I am, I’m headed to bed now. At 11 p.m.

Yes, it’s that bad.

The magazine headlines.

I have to admit that I’m not a particularly observant person. I notice people, but I don’t pay any attention to what they’re wearing. I notice my general environment, but usually not the details; the check-out lane, but almost never the magazines scattered on its shelves (although that’s probably because my kids are too busy distracting me by begging for the candy and miscellaneous toys).

Until the other day. As I waited in line, for some reason the blurbs on the cover of Cosmopolitan caught my eye, particularly this one:

Be A Lucky Bitch! These proven mind tricks get you what you want.

To be fair, this sort of grabby headline wouldn’t have bothered me a couple years ago. They’re everywhere, which is probably why I’ve learned to tune them out over the years.

But now I have tween daughters, both of whom have been full of questions lately regarding puberty, growing up, sex, dating and all the stuff that girls approaching their teen years begin to think about.

So for whatever reason, on this particular day, at this particular store, in this particular check-out lane, I saw the blaring words on Cosmo through their eyes rather than my own jaded ones and I felt shocked.

About five seconds later, I saw the blurb through a-mom-of-tweens’ eyes and I was appalled by the implications. I realize that in recent years the word “bitch” has become much more commonplace, but to me, it’s just plain derogatory. It’s one of the number one words that springs to mind when someone wants to insult a female. I certainly don’t want my daughters to think of themselves that way.

As if that weren’t bad enough, the “mind tricks” mentioned are simply manipulation. I’m all for ambition and drive and making the best of your life, but not at the expense of others. One of the last things I’m inclined to teach my daughters is how to manipulate people in order to get what they want. Do I want to raise loving, generous, kind-hearted girls or calculating, manipulative, selfish “bitches?”

Granted, the audience this magazine is geared toward is not the tween set; however, even these seemingly harmless phrases we see in big, bold letters in the check-out stand are sending young, impressionable girls a dangerous message, in my opinion. I’m not trying to be overly protective nor do I kid myself into thinking that my kids aren’t constantly surrounded by sexual messages, but I want my daughters to be independent and kind, self-reliant and thoughtful, giving and appreciative. I don’t want them finding their worth in their sexuality or in their ability to play “mind tricks” on people. And isn’t that what they’re ultimately going to pick up from reading things like this?

If only they made a cover for the cover so young kids wouldn’t have to be exposed to these small yet powerful words. They have enough to think about without adding the complexities of adulthood to the mix.

How do you feel about magazines with these types of headlines? Do you think they could inspire discussions between you and your kids?