Keeping Her Cool

Manic Monday Blogarrhea: 5 Reasons to LOVE the Snow

2011-11-21T09:29:00.000-06:00

My lawn looks AMAZING! I mean, it doesn't look any better or worse than the neighbors, which is more than I can say for the greener seasons.
Even when it gets dark outside, it feels a little lighter because of the way the streetlights and moonlight reflect off the white ground cover.
I have a great excuse to stay inside and drink more coffee. "It's cold out there, the driving is pretty unsafe. I think I'll stay put and have another hot beverage."
Two words: Grocery Delivery.
The promise that pretty soon, 3 little munchkins will find amazing joy in populating my yard with 3 balled replicas of the people they love.

The Grass Is Always Greener in the Doughnut Shop

2011-11-02T08:25:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I get envious of the lady that works in the Doughnut Shop around the corner from my house. I know that sounds strange, but I think about her sometimes when I'm having a particularly hairy day.

She wakes up at 3:30 am and goes to the shop in the quiet of early morning. In the still and dark, she turns on the television in the doughnut shop and listens to the news while she prepares a pot of coffee. The first cup will be for her, the rest for the throngs of customers who flock to enjoy the delectables which she will begin to prepare at this early hour. She takes most responsibility for the apple and cherry turnovers. They are not easy, but she has perfected her technique, and has turned so many over that she barely even notices that she's doing it anymore. Like breathing she completes this task without ever stopping to think about it. Her daily variety comes in the form of her customers. She's never sure exactly who will come through the door of the shop. There are regulars, to be sure, and they will certainly pick the conversation up where they left it yesterday. But there are new people, too. Elderly people out for their morning walk, mom's with their babes in strollers stopping for a treat, teenagers skipping school in favor of one of her famous raised glazed doughnuts. She greets everyone with a smile, like they are her friend. At noon, she will leave for the day and run a couple of errands before she returns to her home, she will hunker down to "watch her stories" on TV, prepare a small dinner just for her, and then hit the hay at 7:00 pm sharp so she can wake up and do it all over again.

Each day for her is almost the same as the day before. Each day, she goes the same direction she has been going for the past dozen years, and she has virtually no complaints.

Some days this sounds nice to me.

Except that I know that a few years ago, she lost her beloved husband and companion six months after a diagnosis of stomach cancer. He went so quickly, and left her with such a huge hole in her heart. He was young. Just 62 years old. She says she misses him most when she prepares that small dinner, just for her.

Everybody has stuff. We are all a little broken, but we are all trying our best. When I'm feeling really stressed, and pulled in a million directions, and down in the mouth about the challenges I've faced, I think about my friend at the doughnut shop, how I sometimes think her life sounds pretty nice, and remember that she once told me that she was a smidgen envious of my life.

Manic Monday Blogarrhea: 'Tis The Season...

2011-10-24T06:30:00.001-05:00

of layering a little bit of every season into your attire because the day may begin winter, and end summer or vice versa.
for figuring out which TV shows you are going to stick with following the fall premiers. (I'm for sure sticking with Up All Night and The New Girl. Person of Interest is turning my crank, too.)
for answering the question, "is it going to be Halloween soon?" Or, "can I wear my costume today?" Over, and over, and over, and over, and over...
for chili.
for chilly.
for wondering if this will be the last day that the leaves fall, or the first day the snow will fall.

Food For Thought Friday: To Celebrate?

2011-10-21T07:54:00.000-05:00

It's a big weekend here at the Lindstrom house! The Human Cannonball turns FIVE tomorrow! Party preparations are underway, and each morning we excitedly announce the countdown, I am not quite sure that I have adequately wrapped my head around the fact that the Human Cannonball has been rocking my world for FIVE years. To me, he's still my baby and I know he'll stay that in my heart forever.

I am a big birthday planner. I like to throw parties. To be fair, I'll throw a party for any reason, it doesn't have to be a birthday or an anniversary. One rainy day when the Twinstroms were just teeny bits, the Human Cannonball and I threw a "Surprise, We Love You" party for Mr. Lindstrom. We just grabbed things around the house, making flowers from coffee filters, a banner with construction paper, we made a cake and decorated it with sprinkles, and threw together a special dinner just for daddy. When he came home, we all shouted surprise, and surprised he was. Who expects a party on any old rainy Tuesday? But, I believe we all deserve to be celebrated on occasion, celebrated just because we are who we are.

I used to work with someone who really felt that the world is excessive about birthday celebrations. She thought the birthday celebration was "just dumb." She thought it was ridiculous to throw a party for someone "just for being born." She was afraid of the message we give children by celebrating their birthday. She thought we were turning them into self absorbed, greedy creatures. I could not disagree more. Throwing a party for someone's birthday says, "I'm glad you were born, the world is a different place because you are here, and I want to celebrate that!" What could instill more confidence than that. Saying, "you are here for a purpose! We need you!" The birthday is a logical time to have a celebration, but I am of the opinion that we don't celebrate each other enough in this culture.

I think about all the bullies in the world who use their words to hurt other's because they are hurting themselves. They could use a celebration of their gift to the world. Or the children who are being bullied, being told they are less than, let's celebrate their gift to the world. I want my children to know that they are unique and special people. I want to celebrate that every year. Of course, The Human Cannonball is looking forward to opening the gifts, he's looking forward to the cake, he's looking forward to having everyone's eyes on him, but I know that under all of that, he is feeling the generous love of all of us, knowing that life would have been much different (possibly boring) had he not graced us with his presence.

How do you feel about the birthday? Is it excessive? Or are you the celebrating type?

Food For Thought Friday is brought to you by the amazing folks at Welcome Baby Care. They are THE postpartum and newborn experts. Check out their website, and don’t forget to “like” them on Facebook to take advantage of all their knowledge. Also, be sure to follow babycaretweets on Twitter to receive news and ideas on newborn care and thoughts about parenting!

Things I Do When My Kids Aren't Home

2011-10-20T10:43:00.000-05:00

Watch adult television. Get your mind out of the gutter. I mean like The View, or The Nate Berkus Show.
Think about cleaning.
Imagine what my house would look like if I could have breakable precious things at eye level or below.
Shower. For an hour. With no interruptions.
Miss the heck out of my kids and wish they were home in our comfortable chaos!

What do you do in the rare occasion that you are home without kids?

Wordless Wednesday: Five

2011-10-19T08:11:00.000-05:00

My little Swashbuckler turns FIVE on Saturday. His story is so important to me. Read a little snippet at It's My Baby Blog, today.

Manic Monday Bloggarhea: The Restaurant Edition

2011-10-17T09:00:00.001-05:00

I am an enthusiastic supporter of restaurant dining. What's not to like? Food, brought to you piping hot by a willing party, prepared by a trained professional. I mean, they do everything but feed me (wait, I feel a restaurant concept coming on...) However, I've spotted some faux pas in my restaurant travels which need to be brought to light:

1. The chip or bread to dip or spread ratio is generally off. Too frequently we find ourselves having to ask for more chip or bread to go with the dip or spread. Why can't they just bring the appropriate amount in the first place? It would save the servers the time and energy of going back and forth to the kitchen.

2. I don't know about you, but I rarely find an odd number of people sitting at a table when I dine out. Usually people dine in pairs, or even numbers. So, why is it that so many appetizers are brought in odd portions? I can't tell you how often Mr. Lindstrom and I order some sort of starter and find three of it on the plate. I am confident that 99% of arguments that occur in restaurants are over that last egg roll.

3. I don't mind when a server asks me if I've been to their establishment before. Especially if the question is followed up with a simple, "well, welcome to ___." What really bugs me, though is when they follow it up with instructions on how to "use" their restaurant. So, I may not have been to your restaurant before, but I have been to a restaurant before. Generally, the concept of ordering food and having it brought to my table is not foreign or complicated to me.

4. The only thing that's worse than that is when a server tries to shove the restaurant's interesting or new "concept" down my throat, I'm not really interested. How about just make some good food? If the food is good, I don't really care about the concept. Actually, if the food is bad, I don't really care about the concept either. I really only want to eat good food. Good food kind of makes a restaurant succeed in my book.

Call me nitpicky, but this is the kind of stuff that occupies my mind. I like to fixate on it when I can't handle the real stuff that is taking up my brain space. If I were running for President, the issue I would support would be a regulation of the chip or bread to dip or spread ratio. Think of how much happier we'd all be. World peace doesn't seem so far off now, does it?

Food For Thought Friday: Sticks and Stones

2011-10-14T05:04:00.000-05:00

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." I remember singing this little rhyme to myself growing up. Trying to remind myself that words were not weapons. As an adult, I have to tell you, I think this is a load of crap.

We always skip a page in one of the Human Cannonball's favorite books, "Fox In Sox." Page forty something. Fox says to Mr. Knox, "...you don't have to be so dumb, now." Last night, as I read him the book, partly because he can sound out words these days, and partly because he has a memory like you wouldn't believe (especially for rhyme) and inevitably has picked it up when his dad or I have accidentally dropped it, he pointed to the word and said, "Mom, that says 'dumb', why don't you read that page?" I told him that the word "dumb" isn't a kind word, and I don't want him using it.

I didn't tell him that I remember just about every person in this world who called me "dumb" or some variation. So many people, hurling the insult effortlessly like a ninja, my brother, my father, a teacher, kids in the schoolyard, a neighbor that I looked up to, and more recently anonymous emailers who are not creative enough to come up with a legitimate particle of constructive criticism, all confirming a fear that I held about myself. I am dumb. Words DO hurt.

Now, do I actually think I am dumb? No. I know I am not dumb. I'll spare you the list of my successes, but I will tell you, a "dumb" person would never have accomplished all of this. But the words left their mark. What if people think I'm dumb? I hate feeling misunderstood.

As an adult, I understand that what we are trying to teach our children when we say "words will never hurt me," is that what other people think of you is no match for what you KNOW about yourself. Words, even ones that are meant to hurt, cannot break your strong spirit. We tell them this, and simultaneously try to instill the value of not using their words to hurt others. There are adults who cannot reconcile this, how do we expect our children to? Words DO hurt.

There are bullies everywhere, at the grocery store, at your work, in your churches, hiding behind their computer screens, reading this very blog (and likely getting ready to comment under the ever-popular moniker "anonymous"). Here is what I know about these bullies, they use words that hurt because they don't feel very good about themselves. Their hurtful words say nothing about you, they say EVERYTHING about them. This is a lesson I'd like my kids to learn sooner rather than later, but frankly, I'd rather people were just nice to each other so that I didn't have to teach them the lesson at all. Words DO hurt, and sometime it can take a lifetime to undo their damage.

Food For Thought Friday is brought to you by the amazing folks at Welcome Baby Care. They are THE postpartum and newborn experts. Check out their website, and don’t forget to “like” them on Facebook to take advantage of all their knowledge. Also, be sure to follow babycaretweets on Twitter to receive news and ideas on newborn care and thoughts about parenting!

Food For Thought Friday: The Biggest Challenge Can Be The Strongest Gift

2011-10-07T08:22:00.000-05:00

I'm pretty sure I was a challenging child. Emotions that tended toward the dramatic, an enthusiastic storyteller who would often fool people into thinking that my stories were true, an ever moving mouth spilling my thoughts in a constant loop, an independent spirit with an itch to move constantly (I filled every open space with movement). I sometimes imagine what it may have been like to parent me. Then I need a nap. I don't think anyone ever had a conversation with my parents about medicating me because of my "challenges."

Now I am grown, my emotions give me sufficient fodder for a blog where I tell my true stories of life, my constant moving mouth has given way to a career in talk radio, my itch to move constantly led me to dance classes and ultimately to a major in dance, with a special talent in choreography (filling space with movement). When my mom was up to her eyeballs in my "challenges" when I was a child, she didn't know the end of the story (and believe me, we're only in the middle of the story...)

We know enough to be dangerous these days, we have plenty of labels that we can slap on kids and then we can react to them accordingly. We use them to write children off, excuse their difficult behavior, and find order in the difficult world of child rearing. I shudder to think of what labels would have been applied to me when I was a child.

The world lost a very important man last week. Dr. Peter Benson. I am lucky to have known him in life. He is the father of one of my dearest friends. His legacy is the concept of the Spark. Each child has within them a spark, when it is ignited they shine so bright. I have a spark, you have a spark, the person behind the counter at the coffee shop has a spark, the person in the car next to you has a spark, each of us, our own unique spark. When we harness the energy of the spark, we are unstoppable. My "challenges" were my sparks.

I am an extremely involved parent. I actively pursue education about parenting methods so that I can parent to my unique children. I don't want my children's lives to be easy, but I want their interactions to be comfortable. The Human Cannonball is aptly named, he takes the world by storm. To be frank, I am tired of implications that there may be something "wrong" with him from teachers and other parents alike. I'm not saying that there aren't challenges, or that I should not pursue avenues to help manage and teach different behaviors, I am saying that there is so much focus on what's "wrong" with our children, and not enough focus on what is RIGHT! For each of us, our biggest challenges frequently turn out to be our strongest gifts. It's a long, winding road, but it doesn't have to be. If we parent to our children's sparks, how can we go wrong?

What is your child's spark? What is your own spark? What were your "challenges" as a child, and how have they become your gifts?

Food For Thought Friday is brought to you by the amazing folks at Welcome Baby Care. They are THE postpartum and newborn experts. Check out their website, and don’t forget to “like” them on Facebook to take advantage of all their knowledge. Also, be sure to follow babycaretweets on Twitter to receive news and ideas on newborn care and thoughts about parenting!

Wordless Wednesday: A Real Life Dog Whisperer

2011-10-05T08:37:00.000-05:00

I see this guy walking all these big dogs in South Minneapolis all the time. He's pretty amazing!

A Marathon of Manic Monday Blogarrhea

2011-10-03T08:19:00.000-05:00

I LOVE Marathon day in Minneapolis. It's like a holiday for me. We skip church, eat a special breakfast, and plan to stand and clap for as long as we can. I grew up one block off the marathon route (on about mile 9 or 10), and now again live one block off the marathon route (about mile 12.5). For those of you who aren't in the Twin Cities area, it is a well known fact that the Twin Cities Marathon route is one of the most beautiful 26 mile runs in the country. Near the lakes, hugging Minnehaha Creek, and alongside the powerful waters of the Mississippi, all on a crisp fall day when the leaves are really beginning to turn. It almost makes me wish I liked to run. Almost.

The Marathoners begin in downtown Minneapolis, weave through the natural beauty of the Minneapolis parkways, and then cross the river into St. Paul absorbing the historic beauty there. One time, I watched the Marathon at mile 23. It was frightening. I mean that in the kindest way possible. In Minneapolis, the Marathon runners look like anything is possible, in St. Paul, they begin to show the wear and tear. I haven't crossed the river to watch since. Two words have kept me from doing so, bloody nipples.

Each year I forget how emotional I get when I watch the Marathon. For the bulk of the runners (save for the ones who have already finished the whole darn thing before the largest pack have even hit the 10 mile mark - those are the pros) this is a true test of what they are made of. It usually began as a nagging thought, or a casual proclamation, maybe arose from a conversation with a friend who issued a challenge. It started as a goal. I feel geekily privileged to have the opportunity to watch people realize a huge goal like that. So while I'm clapping my hands loudly and hollering at people who are going for a really long run, the second I realize what they are really doing, how big this moment actually is, I kind of tear up. Okay, I flat out cry.

Imagine how awesome it would be to have a street full of strangers cheering for you every time you went out to accomplish a huge goal. The person who cut you off on the highway and then flipped you a rude gesture the other day could easily be standing at mile 25 shouting words of support at YOU. Everyone loves each other on Marathon Day! It almost makes me wish I liked to run. Almost.

Food For Thought Friday: Silence is Golden

2011-09-30T13:58:00.001-05:00

As one who talks for a living, I was overjoyed when the Human Cannonball began to talk. Finally, we could communicate verbally, my favorite thing to do. He is a wonderful asker of difficult questions, "Mom, why are there eyelashes in this world?" or "do they have video games in heaven?" He seems to have a constant flow of thoughts exiting his brain by way of his mouth. It has almost always delighted me (a little peace and quiet sometimes would be nice, and teaching him not to interrupt has been a major challenge).

So, it surprised me when he started going to school (preschool, Sunday School, all types of school), that when I picked him up and asked him what his favorite part of the day was, expecting to hear the flood of words fall from his constantly moving lips telling me every detail of his day, his response was a short, "I don't want to tell you." Here, I had let my heart go walking around in the cold cruel world all alone, and he didn't want to tell me what it was like? Ouch. Now, on the one hand, I respect the fact that his experiences when he is apart from me are his. The instinct to not share is one I can appreciate. On the other hand, I wanted to know how his day was, gosh darnit! I wasn't asking him for the frickin' secret recipe to the Colonel's fried chicken. Seriously.

For whatever reason, he just wasn't ready to share his day. So, I ignored my natural instinct to pepper him with questions, and told myself that when he was ready, he would tell me. I reminded him every day that I cared by asking him the same question, "what was your favorite part of your day?" I paid attention to what he wasn't saying with his words, I asked his teachers how his day was, I looked for clues in the moment to moment. Most of all, I kept a caring silence. Reminding myself that when he was ready to tell me, he'd tell me.

Now it's been over a year of doing this dance, and the past week, each day when I pick him up at school and ask him, "what was your favorite part of your day?" He has answered. First it was just one quick statement, and then I'd go back to listening between his words. Then it was a couple more things, and I'd keep listening when he was done speaking. Now, today, he could not stop telling me about his day. I sat quietly and listened TO his words this time. It was almost magical.

As parents, it's easy to think that the sound of our voice is important. Reading aloud with our children, saying what is right or wrong, telling them the right way to handle a situation, being stern with our voice in discipline, and joyful in celebration. All of that is important, however, I think that what we say and how we say it is 20% of what's important, the other 80% that really matters is what we do with our children when we are silent. The silent moments are golden.

Do you consciously tend to the silence in your family? How do you communicate with your kids without using your words?

Food For Thought Friday is brought to you by the amazing folks at Welcome Baby Care. They are THE postpartum and newborn experts. Check out their website, and don’t forget to “like” them on Facebook to take advantage of all their knowledge. Also, be sure to follow babycaretweets on Twitter to receive news and ideas on newborn care and thoughts about parenting!

Why Four-Year-Olds Don't Carry Calendars

2011-09-29T08:53:00.000-05:00

The Human Cannonball came bounding out of school at pick-up yesterday skipping, and singing, "tomorrow is picture day, tomorrow is picture day." His very un-photogenic mom (that's me) felt the anxiety bubbling up. Residual anxiety from my own years of school pictures. Never feeling like I looked good enough for the snapshot that would represent that year of my life each year. For the pretty girls, I always imagined this day felt almost pleasant, a chance to flash their cute grin for the shutter, and knowing that it would always capture their best side. For a funky looking redhead who was teased for her freckles and called "carrot-top," whose smile revealed an "open bite" and various orthodontic appliances through the years (I actually remember my 9th grade picture, taken just 2 months after I'd had major jaw surgery. The swelling had not totally subsided, and my cheeks looked like little chipmunks) picture day was a nightmare.

The Human Cannonball was so darned excited about picture day, I set aside my vicarious anxiety and celebrated with him (also pushing away thoughts about how I wished I'd known sooner what the dates of pictures were, the Human Cannonball is desperate for a haircut... oh well). He looks at himself in the mirror and sees what I see, a handsome, joyful, perfectly made young man. He has no reason to dread picture day.

I have had an unsettled feeling since yesterday, needing to frequently remind myself that my anxiety is around my own feelings about the weight of picture days from my youth, and those are not his. The truth is, I will adore a picture of the Human Cannonball even if his hair is sticking up, because he is perfectly who he is, and he is perfectly my son. When he is eighteen, and we are celebrating his high school graduation, and we look back at this picture, I will remember the precocious, smart, hilarious, joyful child he is now.

So this morning, as he was getting dressed, I felt calmed as I was pulling the picture form out of his backpack. I began the process of looking through the different picture packages, and something caught my eye. October. It is still September. PICTURES AREN'T UNTIL NEXT WEEK! I can't believe that I took a scheduling cue from my four-year-old.

Food For Thought Friday: Sleep Matters

2011-09-23T10:10:00.001-05:00

I have to say that I don't think sleep gets the praise it should. In a culture that seems to value productivity and connectedness at the expense of sleep, I'm afraid that we are becoming of the opinion that sleep somehow is synonymous with laziness. I had a coworker once who told me I was lazy because I took a 45 minute afternoon nap every day. I was pretty sure she wasn't the only person who thought that way, and that told me everything I needed to know about how our culture values sleep. My fear is that we will begin to ascribe this "cultural value" to our children.

Sleep, in my opinion, is the key to world peace. People can't get along? They probably need more sleep. Feeling sick or in pain? You probably need more sleep. Indecisive? Sleep on it. I can tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt that sleep is definitely the key to Lindstrom peace. It's one of the ways we try to maintain the delicate balance of happiness in our house. When the human cannonball is more cannonball-y than usual, we immediately prescribe a nap. When the Twinstroms are acting a little more "two" than usual, they go off to bed for a good long snooze. Sleep does amazing things.

The most amazing thing about sleep is that getting more sleep doesn't rob your children of more sleep later. Sleep begets sleep. The more they get, the more they'll get (up to a point). So, it pays to have a working knowledge of what those sleep recommendations are for each age group.

How is the sleep situation at your house?

Food For Thought Friday is brought to you by the amazing folks at Welcome Baby Care. They are THE postpartum and newborn experts. Check out their website, and don’t forget to “like” them on Facebook to take advantage of all their knowledge. Also, be sure to follow babycaretweets on Twitter to receive news and ideas on newborn care and thoughts about parenting!

My Phone Rules. No, Seriously...

2011-09-22T14:07:00.000-05:00

4:30 pm Tuesday, I walk out of the gym after my Pilates Reformer session, ready to tackle the world. I'm going to have a glass of wine with one of my ladies at her house. I've been there a couple times, I kind of know where I'm going, but I'm planning to use the navigation on my phone. Walking out to the car, I get a text from my babysitter, "should I feed the kids dinner?" I write back, "yes, please." and then remember that Mr. Lindstrom is on his way home soon, and he can do dinner with them, "wait... no." I reply, and then notice I have a voicemail. It's from the Director of Children's Ministry at my church wondering if I can volunteer the next night, and could I get back to her soon. I get ready to dial her back when I notice another text from my sitter, "I texted Mr. Lindstrom, and he said to feed them. What should I do?"

As I settle myself in the car, I make my mental list:
1. Enter Superawesome Girlfriend's address into phone navigation system to get directions.
2. Text back babysitter before pulling the car out of the spot.
3. Call Director of Children's Ministry and chat about volunteering.
4. Call Mr. Lindstrom to notify him of whereabouts and plans.

As I'm attacking #1 of my to-do list, the phone freezes up, and dies. I tried to resuscitate. I did everything short of performing mouth to mouth. Nothing.

Here's what makes this all funny: The next few minutes went like this in my head, I need to call the Sprint store. Can't -- phone doesn't work. Well, I should at least call Mr. Lindstrom to tell him my phone doesn't work. Can't -- phone doesn't work. Ugh. My poor babysitter is probably confused by the conflicting information, I need to quick call her... CAN'T -- PHONE DOESN'T WORK!!!!!

I don't know that I have a healthy relationship with my phone. I thought I did. I thought I could act independently. I thought I could quit at any time. I thought I'd be okay without it. But my phone has sucked me in. With the constant facebook and twitter updates, the handy camera, the map system that ensures I will never be lost again, the games to keep me busy should my hands ever go idle, not to mention the ability to be constantly accessible to friends, family, and business associates. How did I ever live without it?

The four hours without my phone were agonizing. Rather than being relaxed because I was inaccessible, I was anxious because I was inaccessible. When I got home, my first priority was to activate my back-up phone (if I were on a couch in an office, talking to someone with lots of letters behind their name, they would point out to me that this is an excellent indicator that my relationship with my phone is unhealthy. I have a back-up phone for emergencies.)

Should you be concerned, I managed to get to my friend's house un-aided (perhaps I followed the scent of good friendship and red wine), and no emergencies ensued during my time sans phone. It really made me wonder how we ever lived without these tiny little computers on our person at all times. Can you remember? Is it better or worse now?

Manic Monday Blogarrhea

2011-09-19T10:00:00.001-05:00

You know when you post things on craigslist and you have to enter the words they request in order to finalize the post so they know you are not a robot or something? Today, I was posting a couple of things and the words I had to enter were, "eat us." Disturbing.

One of the things I was posting was our Aquarium themed baby swing. I google-imaged it to post an image (instead of taking a picture myself. I am lazy like that... or efficient.) One of the images that came up was of this shoe:

I need this in an 8.

My kids are milk-o-holics. This actually comes as no surprise, because they are descended from two self-described milk-o-holics. It's in the genes. It used to be that we had a fridge full of milk; skim and whole. Mr. and I drank the skim, and we pumped our kids full of the calories and fat from the whole. Well, in recent weeks, I've just stopped buying skim for the Mr. and me, because we are spending half of our monthly income on milk. What we really need is a cow. I just want to chalk up the lack of milk in my diet as one of the very serious sacrifices I've made for my kids. I know, the martyr wins Mother of the Year. (If I were the kind of blogger who incorporates emoticons, I would use this one ;-) to show you that I was being sarcastic.)

Whenever I see an actor or actress who looks familiar, but I can't place where I know them from, I say to Mr. Lindstrom, "I think they were on Night Court." You know Night Court, the late 80s to early 90s. Yes, for some reason, I think that all familiar actors and actresses at one time had a bit part on Night Court, and that I remember them clearly from that role. Does anyone else do this? I should also state, for the record, that Mr. Lindstrom (who has an equally obscure knowledge of pop culture) can almost always tell me with a certainty both that they were, in fact, not on Night Court, and what I do know them from. Also, I haven't watched an episode of Night Court for more than a decade.

Food For Thought Friday: Food... For People...

2011-09-16T14:08:00.001-05:00

We are a lucky family. With five hungry mouths to feed, Mr. Lindstrom and I are able to make enough money to put food on the table. For so many people this is easily taken for granted. I'm ashamed to say, that for us, it often is too. Despite the fact that I am a meticulous meal planner, and try to plan meals so that we have no waste, I feel sick when I clean the refrigerator and throw away food that has gone bad because we actually have too much. On a day to day basis, we take for granted the fact that meals and snacks are not hard to come by at our house. I don't know what it is like to be hungry. I don't know what it's like to not be able to feed my family.

The other day, the Human Cannonball came home from school with a note in his bag. In our particular public school system, at our particular school there are food programs for less fortunate families. This note gave instructions on how our family could receive 30 pounds of food a month per student we had enrolled in the school system. This gave me pause, 30 pounds of food a month. I picked up the Human Cannonball to give him a hug. He weighs 45 pounds. This feels a lot like the weight of the bags I carry in from the grocery store once a week. I looked around our kitchen. We have food that we can't fit into the cupboards decorating our counters. We are so lucky.

The fact is that one in five families right here in Minnesota has trouble feeding their entire family. As I picked the Human Cannonball up from school today, and I watched the parade of kids going to their buses, I wondered which of these kids isn't going to eat a healthy dinner tonight? One in five families.

Our family has volunteered in a few ways to help facilitate the conversation about hunger in our house. One thing we have done, which was not through any organization, was to make "blessing bags." We simply filled some small brown paper bags with snacks, a washcloth, some hand sanitizer, chapstick, lotion, and bottled water to keep in our car. When we stop at a stoplight and see someone holding a sign that says they are hungry, we roll down the window and hand them a bag. Many will argue that some of those people aren't really hungry, and frankly, I don't care. What my kids are learning from that experience is more valuable to me. They learn that we care about people in our world, and that when someone is having a tough time, we can reach out.

Another thing we have done as a family is make sandwiches for an organization called 363 Days. This organization is founded on the notion that people are hungry 365 days a year, not just on Thanksgiving and Christmas when many people flock to the shelters to feed the hungry. The other 363 days, people are hungry too. So, on your own time, with your own resources, as a group or as a family, you make sandwiches. Then, you drop them at one of many local Drop Locations and they are distributed from there to many shelters in the area.

Something we are planning to do this year, on Thanksgiving with the family is the Walk To End Hunger. This walk, which takes place at the Mall of America, is an excellent time and space to open up the discussion of what hunger is, and how we can help. The Walk to End Hunger is presented by the Twin Cities Hunger Initiative which is a coalition of many hunger relief agencies aiming to raise awareness and collect non-perishable food items to help fight hunger.

When I was young, we frequently talked about the children who were hungry in other areas of the world. The fact is that people are hungry right here. In homes in our neighborhoods, at our schools, in our churches. This is our community. I encourage you to open up the conversation of hunger in your homes, and consider what you can truly do to help.

How does your family talk about hunger? What kinds of things have you done to facilitate conversation or lend help?

Food For Thought Friday is brought to you by the amazing folks at Welcome Baby Care. They are THE postpartum and newborn experts. Check out their website, and don’t forget to “like” them on Facebook to take advantage of all their knowledge. Also, be sure to follow babycaretweets on Twitter to receive news and ideas on newborn care and thoughts about parenting!

Manic Monday Blogarrhea

2011-09-12T08:25:00.000-05:00

I am wondering when children should stop being called babies. My "babies" are 20 months, and they are definitely more "toddlers" than "babies." Still, every once in a while we refer to them as "the babies." In fact, at our house, they are probably far more frequently referred to as "the babies" than "the twins." What's the cut-off? Is it a period of time, like 2 years of age? Or is it more an experience or milestone situation, like when they are out of diapers, or don't sleep in a crib anymore, or start rolling their eyes at you?

I ask this question all the time, and if I were an Anthropologist, this would be my area of study (and since I am primarily a talk show host and blogger, I'll just ask about it): Who figured out that sex was what made babies? How did they figure it out? There is a major delay in cause and effect with sex, pregnancy, and delivery. Many women don't even know that they are pregnant until they are a couple months in and some never know at all until the baby emerges (don't even get me started on the level of denial that that must take). So, I brought this up at a little party the other day (because I'm that girl. The one who brings up weird questions at the party. I usually hang out somewhere near the guitar guy and the loud cackling girl.) and my one girlfriend says, "well, when Laura Ingalls and Manly had sex..." and I fell apart because I totally understand using television shows as a reference to history, and am amused at the fact that Little House On The Prairie is as far back as we can go... Thank you, Michael Landon. For the record, I still don't know the answer to my question. Probably because there has never been a popular TV show to clear it up for me.

The other day I was bumming around the adorable city of Excelsior. Who am I kidding, I haven't bummed around since I was 20. I don't even know what one does when one "bums." I was actually in Excelsior for a very important meeting with a very important friend (Katie from KeikiB Salon Spa, you must go to there) and we witnessed a gentleman wandering in full Captain Jack Sparrow regalia. Katie spends a lot of time in that neighborhood and she assured me that this is quite normal behavior for this young man. The thing is, he looked like a darn good Captain Jack Sparrow. He was handsome, and his costume looked real, not like something he'd purchased on clearance last November first at his local party supply store. I was impressed. He may stick out like a sore thumb wandering around looking like Johnny Depp dressed up as a pirate, but I bet this guy pulls serious chicks. And honestly, when I hear the words "Captain Jack Sparrow," I think of this:

Food For Thought Friday: Going It Alone...

2011-09-09T09:18:00.001-05:00

You may (or may not) have noticed that I disappeared from Bloggy-ville this week. I like to try to post between four or five days a week. This week, I'm chalking up an unimpressive one post. The list of excuses includes the fact that it was a holiday week, and I worked at the radio station a little more than usual, but the real reason is that Mr. Lindstrom has been away on business for the last three days.

Now, I want to be very clear about this, women and men who are single parenting do it 24/7. I parented alone for three days. I cannot say "Oh, I know what it's like to be a single parent" because I only did it for three days. I think it's an insult to call the temporary type of parenting alone "single parenting." I parented alone for three days. I did it with the knowledge that after three days, my partner would be back and we'd fall back into the same routine of partner-parenting that I think we do pretty well. For so many reasons that I hope I don't have to outline, parenting alone for a few days is different from being a single parent, please know that I do not claim to understand the myriad of challenges and intense emotions that the experience of single parenting is fraught with.

I think I got the teeny tiniest glimpse, though. As I was between drop-offs and pick-ups the other day, plotting and planning a day that included some conference calls and meeting arrangement in addition to lunch making, kid bathing, and outdoor playing, I suddenly felt this wave of isolation. Of course, my kids were keeping me good company, but I missed the companionship of an adult. I missed having that one person there who knows as well as I do what life with my kids is like. This is no small thing. The physical act of parenting is a hard and tiring job, I find it exhausting when my co-parent is present and involved. With him away, I reached a new level of physical and mental exhaustion.

To my single parent friends, I want you to know that I don't always have the level of appreciation that I should for the hard work that you are doing. In so many ways, I don't and can't know the true challenge of what life is like as the one and only for your children. I know that you have amazing times with your children, but that the hard times are doubly hard, and I want to honor you (and give you a high five, buy you a drink, pat you on the back, whatever floats your boat) for your parenting, and for being my friend because all of you are not only amazing parents, but all around super great people.

Food For Thought Friday is brought to you by the amazing folks at Welcome Baby Care. They are THE postpartum and newborn experts. Check out their website, and don’t forget to “like” them on Facebook to take advantage of all their knowledge. Also, be sure to follow babycaretweets on Twitter to receive news and ideas on newborn care and thoughts about parenting!

Food For Thought Friday: Saying Goodbye to the Baby Stuff

2011-09-02T08:14:00.000-05:00

I'm shedding a couple of tears this week. As I type, I'm selling off all the itty bitty baby gear in a garage sale. I am no longer really attached to stuff (my mom is laughing right now because I used to be a first class pack rat), and often tell the story about how I threw away entire unopened boxes when we moved from our old house. Stuff, in my opinion, weighs you down and doesn't allow you to move forward.

But this stuff that is surrounding me right now with price stickers on it, this is the last six years of my life. I am looking at the chair that our first child, Brady (who died of SIDS in 2005) played in. I remember watching her learn to reach and react with joy when she touched a toy and it made a sound. I had that memory each time my other three sat in that chair for the first time. The human cannonball jumped for hours in the Jumparoo. Some days I wish there could be a bigger version. It would be nice to keep his jumping contained. When the twins came along, we borrowed another Jumparoo, and the Twinstroms would jump side by side and giggle away the hours. Now, that Jumparoo is going for $40 (I think I priced it with my emotions, I can be negotiated with).

The hardest part, of course, is the clothes. Folding each piece of clothing and remembering when each of my babies wore it. The hardest of all were the clothes that my first daughter wore, and now my last daughter has worn. This ritual cleaning out of the baby stuff is a rite of passage for a mother. Dare I say that it is part of the grieving process when you have decided that your childbearing years are behind you. Six years worth of life as I have known it, is in my garage waiting for a new home. Thankfully, my memories aren't for sale. All this stuff has a cameo in my memories, but the real memories are locked up safe and I get to keep them forever. I am happy to sell it off to someone else, so it can have a role in the memories they will create.

How have you said goodbye to the baby years? What did your ritual cleaning out rite of passage look like?

Food For Thought Friday is brought to you by the amazing folks at Welcome Baby Care. They are THE postpartum and newborn experts. Check out their website, and don’t forget to “like” them on Facebook to take advantage of all their knowledge. Also, be sure to follow babycaretweets on Twitter to receive news and ideas on newborn care and thoughts about parenting!

What Would You Say?

2011-09-01T07:00:00.018-05:00

Last night, sitting around on the couch like I do when evening falls, Mr. Lindstrom (who was checking Twitter on his smartphone) hollered to me, "fake pregnant woman drinks beer at the state fair." He was remarking about this article on wcco.com. Basically, an organization that is trying to educate people about Fetal Alcohol Syndrome planted a fake pregnant woman at the MN State Fair, and had her drink, looking to see how people reacted.

Now, I am going to share some thoughts with you here, and this is all just my opinion. Feel free to agree or disagree respectfully. Please understand, I am not saying that I think pregnant women should drink. I am saying that if a pregnant woman drinks, that is her decision. I honestly think it's virtually impossible to dodge the overwhelming information that women should not drink during pregnancy.

I liken it to this, as a mother of a child who died of SIDS, more specifically, a child who suffocated in her mattress at daycare after being placed to sleep on her stomach, I am virtually (and unfortunately) an expert on SIDS risk reduction. I cannot tell you how many of my friends and peers don't take the guidelines seriously and are doing things that I know increase the risk of SIDS. Or do take the guidelines seriously, but don't really think anything bad could happen to them. It makes me sad, and it makes me angry, but I bite my tongue. It is not my job to save babies. Parents are fiercely protective of their decisions and methods, and I have to trust that they are well informed and are making choices that are right for them, whether they are right for me (and the majority of the general public), or not. Sure, you won't see a baby sleeping in a bassinet with bumper pads at the State Fair in order to intervene, but I've had friends boast to me that their newborns sleep better on their stomach, friends who know that the one time my first daughter slept on her stomach, she slept forever. Friends who know that the recommendation is to place babies on their backs to sleep.

Now, you may think, "well, a baby sleeping on their stomach, and a mother drinking alcohol and potentially harming her baby in utero are two totally different things." You see, to me they aren't. I don't personally know anyone who has a child who was affected by alcohol in utero, but I know plenty of moms who lost their children when they were suffocated by stomach sleeping, bumper pads, or rolled over in a shared bed (and no, alcohol wasn't involved). In fact, there isn't one mother I know who isn't intensely informed about the risk of drinking during pregnancy, and they all seem to be equally informed about SIDS risk reduction, and frankly, I see mom's violating both sets of suggestions. At the end of the day, I can only be responsible for my own pregnancies, and my own babies (BTW, that ship has sailed as I will never be pregnant again or have infants).

For info on safe sleep for babies, please watch this video:

And to see the Twinstroms in their TV debut (over a year and a half ago), hear a little more about my beautiful Brady, and learn about the most recent strides in SIDS research, please watch this:

Wordless Wednesday: First Day Of School

2011-08-31T11:51:00.001-05:00

Quickly fly the days...

Some thoughts on birth over at It's My Baby Blog today. Stop on over!

Manic Monday Blogarrhea

2011-08-29T06:30:00.051-05:00

This is not blogarrhea in the traditional sense where I have a bunch of unrelated thoughts, strung together. This is just a stream of consciousness rambling about some thoughts that I have, and if I think too hard about them, I'm afraid I'll edit too much... so I'm just going to go ahead and write it without thinking... blogarrhea style.

I don't consider myself a SAHM. I don't totally identify with SAHMs. Most of my friends call me a SAHM, but I am more of a WAHM and I work part time while simultaneously caring for my offspring. I work in the home on weekdays, and out of the home on the weekends. Think that sounds like paradise? It is... in theory. Here's the reality, it takes me 10 times as long to complete a task as a person who is sitting at a desk job away from home. When I call my boss or have a conference call, I have to keep the phone muted while the big wig is talking, and then take it off mute for 13 seconds while I spit out my opinion and quickly mute again lest the big wig get an earful of the Human Cannonball's fourteen verse song about "poop." My house is not clean. Not nearly as clean as it would be if I cleaned my way out the door in the morning, dropped the kids off at daycare, and then walked back in to the house the way I left it and unleashed the tornados on it. My tornados are doing their damage on Lindstrom-ville all day. Then, after they go to bed and I'm done picking up after them, and there's a little time for grown-up time, I usually have the computer open on my lap doing the work I couldn't get done while my kids were crawling around me because I don't want them to think that their mother has a glowing Apple logo for a face.

However, I read this blog post today, and promptly sent it to my husband who does not understand what I mean when I say that going to work is like a "break" for him. When I go to an actual workplace on the weekends, it is most certainly a break for me. It is the most relaxing time of my week. Take a second to read this, you won't be sorry. It could not be more true.

Here's the thing, though. Remember all that complaining I did up there? That's the downside of my situation. The upside is that I get to see these sweet faces that I made all the time. I don't have to look at pictures of them propped on my desk or wallpapering my computer screen and wonder what major milestone they are hitting, because I'm mostly with them. I don't have to cram a days worth of activities with them into the hour or two before bedtime, because I have the whole day to work around their schedules and be with them. I get my share of cuddles and then some. I have the luxury of being able to wash a couple loads of clothes or dishes during the day if I have the time (I rarely have the time, but the option is there). I don't have to get a bosses permission to be at their school concerts, or doctor's appointments. Yes, all that is totally awesome.

There is a major debate in this world between moms about who has it the easiest. Whether we want to admit it or not. I feel like I am constantly trying to tell my work outside the home mom friends that I don't sit home all day and eat bon bons. I'm gonna go ahead and tell you this (I've done it every which way in the past six years, so I feel like I can speak for everyone), NOBODY HAS IT THE EASIEST. NOBODY. If you are a mom, it is hard. Period. End of discussion. So, let's stop with the grass is greener stuff, and just support each other and try to understand. Kumbaya.

Food For Thought Friday: So We Don't NEED Art????

2011-08-26T12:11:00.001-05:00

I had a heartbreaking moment yesterday at my son's elementary school open house. Mr. Lindstrom and I were trying to chase two toddlers who were not keen on being in their strollers, and keeping track of the Human Cannonball who was practicing (and perfecting) his Human Cannonball ways, when a teacher stopped me in the hall. "Would you be willing to volunteer for our art program?" I stopped short. I love art. Art is what kept me interested in school. Would I be willing to volunteer? Heck yes.

So, I stood (or wiggled while I tried to keep Thing 2 occupied) and heard the teacher's pitch. It started like this, "Since Art classes have been cut from the budget..." (cue record scratch), she said a whole bunch of stuff after that about how they ask for volunteers to present art lessons in classes once a year, but I was still stuck on her first sentence. I guess that having not had a child in the public school system until now, I hadn't paid too much attention to what the budget cuts were actually cutting. I know that sounds irresponsible, but I have been really preoccupied with making people. Now I am getting educated on the education opportunities for these people whom I have created.

Mr. Lindstrom and I have always been advocates of the public school system. Having both been lifelong residents of Minneapolis, and both (successful) products of the Minneapolis Public School System, we border on snobby when it comes to the public school system. We both treasure our experiences even beyond education given to us through our school system. We both hope that our children can have similar experiences in public school.

They aren't going to, though. Not without Art (among other things). It breaks my heart to know that while the suits were sitting with their calculators in a board room and carrying ones, and solving for X, they decided to subtract ART. Likely thinking that Art was the least useful subject, clearly the one that could be cut most easily.

I learned a little about art in my art classes. I learned about focal points, and shading, and I could draw one heckuva face. But, what art classes did for me went beyond the mechanics. Art class was an opportunity for this free thinker to experiment and test. Art class was a place where the rights and wrongs weren't so defined, and there was room for interpretation. Art class wasn't so... rigid. I needed that. I needed a place to feel confident in school so I could begin to feel confident in other areas of school. I applied lessons from my art class in my real life far more than I applied math concepts. To this day that is the case. And to think that our children will not be presented that lesson is seriously a tragedy.

Education is a right, not a privilege. But as essential areas of study are cut back because there simply isn't the money, a well-rounded education is becoming more and more a privilege. In discussion with this teacher who was recruiting volunteers for this yearly art presentation, I also found out that last year, they could not get a parent volunteer for my son's grade, so they skipped the presentation altogether, that sealed the deal for me. This is what I can do NOW to expose my son's peers to art, and you better believe I'll keep finding ways. How are education cuts affecting you, and how are you handling it?

Food For Thought Friday is brought to you by the amazing folks at Welcome Baby Care. They are THE postpartum and newborn experts. Check out their website, and don’t forget to “like” them on Facebook to take advantage of all their knowledge. Also, be sure to follow babycaretweets on Twitter to receive news and ideas on newborn care and thoughts about parenting!

8 Parenting Truths

2011-08-25T07:09:00.002-05:00

- Sleep is a privilege, not a right.

- 20 questions is really too many questions.

- A ponytail IS a hairstyle.

- If you are doing fewer than 6 things at any given time, then you are lazy.

- The laundry is not now, nor will it ever be "done.

- There is such a thing as a "really cool" minivan.

- Your kids will always be more well dressed than you.

- A really good coffee machine is essential to your health and well-being.

Got any more? Please add...

Wordless Wednesday: Really? Baby Sale?

2011-08-24T13:08:00.000-05:00

1. Isn't it illegal to sell babies?
2. Only $5? Mine have proven to be waaaaay more expensive.

I Got Answers

2011-08-23T11:35:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, I told you that if you had a question for me, I'd answer it. So here goes:

1. What is your best advice for brand new first time moms?

My best advice for brand new moms is follow your gut, find your own voice, and use it. Everyone has ideas and techniques that worked for them and their unique child. It can be so easy to feel pushed and pulled with the parenting undercurrent. At the end of the day, decisions regarding your children and your parenting are yours to make. Find the power in that, love it, and protect it. Learn from your mistakes (or rather, the times you didn't listen to yourself) and allow that to strengthen your resolve to parent your child, your way.

2. Is it hard to have "real" friends as a public person??

I think it's hard to have "real" friends as a person. I am aware that I am considered a "public" person, but on the public person spectrum in this town, I'm a really little tiny fish in a big pond. Since I was young, I have always had trouble discerning who my real friends are. I like people, and want to believe the best in them, but I would say that I really only have a small handful of real friends, and a big handful of really nice people to hang out with. Also, being a mom has really changed my friendships. Friends that don't have children often (not always) have a hard time understanding the amount of advance planning it takes to get together when you have kids. Friends with kids are often busy with their parenting role and it's hard to fit in the time to connect. I guess I would define the "real" friends as the ones who just understand each other and you can pick up with whether it's been a week, a month, or a year.

3. What is your favorite color and why?

I think it's green. I don't quite know why. I think I know that green looks good on me, and I'm Irish. I tend to gravitate to green a lot in clothing and decorating.

4. When can we get the Get Real Girls back? (For those of you who don't know me outside of this blog, Get Real is a Saturday morning radio show focusing on living your best life that I have done for the past five years with my dear friends Liv Lane and Joan Steffend. The show was cancelled 2 weeks ago to make room for a new show, the Weekend Dirt which I am hosting that goes in an entirely different direction.)

I don't have a definite answer for you here, and I'm sorry about that. Please know that there is a lot of work, and many conversations behind the scenes happening to try to give you more Get Real in a different package. We have a website set up so you can join the mailing list to find out where we land next. Please stay tuned, and again, know that there are plenty of conversations happening right now around the best way to get the same messages you heard on the radio to you in a different way. Trust me.

5. How do you cope with working, 3 kids, husband, household and all that goes with it? I find it so overwhelming a lot of the time. Maybe I am doing something wrong. with 4 kids.

If you could hear the voices in my head (and the voice on the phone to my mother regularly), you would not call what I do "coping." I love being a mom, but at present, each day feels more like "survival." Just like you probably think I have all my shit together, other people probably think you have your shit together. I feel like that could not be further from the truth, and you probably feel the same way. Right? You aren't doing anything wrong, you are doing your best. I have to repeat this to myself for hours on end. THEN, when I don't believe it, I call my mom and have her tell me. I am extremely lucky because I have consistent help. I have a wonderful nanny who is really more part of our family. She rescues me far more than I thank her for. I also have a husband who goes above and beyond, and a mother, and in-laws who regularly drop everything to give me a hand when necessary. It really does take a village, and it still feels overwhelming. I keep reminding myself that someday I'll regard these crazy days as "the good old days." So, if they're going to be those someday, why not make them that today... (Also of note, my standards for housekeeping and organization have gotten extremely low, this helps a lot... sometimes.)

6. What do you like to do on Friday nights?

Friday nights are sacrosanct for Mr. Lindstrom and myself. Remember the nanny I mentioned earlier? She's in charge of the kids on Friday nights and Mr. Lindstrom and I have a date night. Every Friday. So, we do date things. Every Friday. This is the key to keeping our marriage together and keeps us connected in the middle of our otherwise crazy lives.

7. Do you ever get sick of marketing yourself?

Yes. I do. Marketing yourself feels sort of weird. But, I am my business. I actually believe that whether we realize we are, or not, everyone is always marketing their "self." Especially with facebook and twitter now part of the common experience. Each time you put something out there, you are telling people about what kind of person you are and what they can expect from you. When you are at work, you are constantly showing why you are the right person for the job you have. When you're meeting a new friend, or going on a first date, you show that friend or date you at your best. That's marketing. Maybe not in the traditional sense. It's still you, it's just you at your best. I call it "being on." I think it is tiring. This is why I think it's important to have a person, or group of people in your life with whom you don't have to be "on."

8. Margaret K said... Can we get together?

If this is the Margaret K who I went to college with, then yes! I would love to!

9. Tell us some "behind the scenes" stuff about Mytalk 107.1 Who is friends? Who is messy?...

I get asked this all the time. If you really want to get a feel for the environment at My Talk 107.1, I highly recommend you listen all day on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday this week. The weekday hosts will be spending 53 hours together in a Pleasureland RV at the MN State Fair, and it will be broadcast in multiple ways. That will tell you more than I could ever tell you. Because I don't work regularly on weekdays anymore, I'm not really privy to much, but here are some little fun facts:

- Lori and Julia wipe down the studio like crazy every day. There is an industrial sized container of cleansing wipes in the studio with Julia's name on it.

- Katie K9 always leaves a treat in the studio on Sunday nights after her show with a note to those who come after her telling us to "have a good show." She's so nice, and has been on the air since the beginning of the station in June of 2002.

- Everyone has a really messy desk. EVERYONE. There's always stuff coming in from PR companies. People don't always know what to do with it all, so it sort of hides under desks or on top of shelves. I think that the neon green Borat swimsuit is still in someone's desk drawer.

- Donny eats the stinkiest lunches in the entire world. He is an extremely healthy eater, and is very focused on getting his omega 3s. He eats tuna every other day. I feel like he used to eat sardines, too, but he denies that. I just know that you can smell his lunch if you are within 10 feet of his desk on tuna days. We all tease him about it.

- The coffee at the radio station really has to be doctored up in order to taste good.

- People on different shows rarely see each other. People come together at meetings and occasional parties, but on a daily basis, hosts really only interface with each other as they are changing over at the end of one show and the beginning of the next.

- Cohosts try to avoid having conversations about what they'll be talking about on the air so that the reactions are fresh and authentic.

See, nothing too juicy. Really, It's just like any office setting - a lot of people doing a lot of work to make the radio station awesome.

Manic Monday Blogarrhea: Some Housekeeping

2011-08-22T10:38:00.000-05:00

Housekeeping? That doesn't sound like fun? Well, usually it's not, but I have some blog housekeeping to do, and I thought I'd get it all out of the way, Blogarrhea style.

Remember the other day when I wrote about having our family picture taken? Many people asked to see the picture. The problem was that we had only just had it taken, and didn't have the evidence. Now we do, so here it is:

This is the Cool family in a moment of bliss. I was pleased to just get one shot of everyone looking at the camera, it is only a bonus that we all look alert and happy. I assure you that moments after the shutter clicked, the Twinstroms were wiggling out of Mr. Lindstrom's arms, and the Human Cannonball was practicing his Human Cannonball-ness. For this one second, though, we were all pretty happy. Hooray.

I just added a little tab to this blog called "Never Pay Full Price." This is one of my personal mantras. So, you will find listed some of the sites that I use to ensure that I don't break the bank doing my Christmas shopping. I only just threw this together, so keep checking back as I add more and more sites that I frequent in my effort to control my spending.

And last of all, I've been all laid up in bed with a bad back, and I've been on crazy drugs that have prevented me from focusing on blogging. I need a little jump start, and I would love for you to help. We've done this before, and now... let's do it again. Go ahead and write any question you have in the comment section here, and I'll answer them on Tuesday (8/23). You have until midnight to get your questions in... ready. set. go!

Wordless Wednesday: Start Them Early

2011-08-17T07:13:00.001-05:00

We're Going To Need a Delorean For This Vacation!

2011-08-16T09:51:00.000-05:00

I love Mr. Lindstrom, that's why we got married, but more importantly (in many ways), I really like my husband. We are, as the cliche goes, the very best of friends. He gets me, and I get him. We have always just loved spending time together. Having kids has not changed the fact that we really like each other, but having kids definitely changed the fact that we don't get to spend the same kind of time together.

In 2002, when we were first married, Mr. Lindstrom and I would spend Saturdays and Sundays just hanging out. We were always down for a trash talking game of Yahtzee, we could spend hours in the kitchen making one meal that would take us all of 15 minutes to eat, we knew all the best happy hours in the city, and if a Real World/Road Rules Challenge marathon was on MTV we were glued to the boob-tube for hours on end. I'm sure we were stressed out about things like money, our mortgage, the responsibility of taking care of our dog, and countless other things, but I don't remember that. I only remember the freedom and spontaneity of life before kids. In my mind's eye, it seemed simpler then.

Mr. Lindstrom and I have a pretty sweet arrangement with our babysitter, and have committed to spending a couple nights a week together without the kids. This is essential for the health of our marriage, and I highly recommend it to others if you can make it possible. BUT, when we are away from the kids, the kids are still there... not with us per se, but hanging out in our brains. They show up in conversations from time to time, we check in with the babysitter at reasonable intervals, and they are always present in our conscious. They are, after all, part of us. We would never change that.

Mr. Lindstrom whisked me away for a birthday/anniversary weekend in Chicago (which, I should amend, was really only an overnight). The planning for a 24 hour trip required months of preplanning, and a willing team of grandparents and babysitters (our brood is pretty exhausting). It was lovely to be away, but I'm not sure I ever relaxed. I was tethered to my home wondering how everyone was, and missing them terribly. When you have children, especially when they are small, you give up that freedom and spontaneity that you had before they came along. I am so very lucky to have my children. I love being their mother. I would not trade my life for anything in the entire world. I am only saying that I wish I would have had the full breadth of understanding before I had them so that I could have really enjoyed the freedom and spontaneity when I had it.

So, when I came home from work the other day, after interviewing a Marriage and Family Therapist who focused very much on how children change a marriage, I was pining away for those days. I started to reminisce with Mr. Lindstrom about what it was like to be able to walk out the door in one minute, sit through an entire church service without disruption, cook an intricate meal for hours (and not have it land on the floor when small hands get in a throwing mood) and then enjoy it, make plans five minutes in advance of an occasion vs. five weeks (have to make sure we can get a babysitter), take a shower until the hot water ran out (and sometimes even... together), and on... and on... and on... I know what we signed up for, and we love it, and I know we can take mini vacations from it from time to time, but the truth is that away is never really away.

So, Mr. Lindstrom and I are looking into a vacation back in time. Back to 2002. Just for a day. We need a Delorean, a crazy professor, and a flux capacitor. Does anyone know of a travel agency that deals with these types of vacations?

Food For Thought Friday: Can You Hear Me Now?

2011-08-12T08:28:00.001-05:00

Neither of my sons could hear very well until they were about 18 months old. They both passed the hearing tests administered in the hospital, and we trusted that they could, but they could not. We discovered it differently for both of them.

The Human Cannonball was a relatively early walker, he was walking just shy of 10 months, and by 10 1/2 months, he was running. There was never any trace of balance issues when he was walking. It was at the same time that he began talking. His first word was "puppy" only it sounded like "conky." We thought it was kind of cute, and laughed a little every time he said it. Until he started to say some other words, like "daddy" which came out sounding like "gagn," or "mommy" which sounded like "ngaaang." He would say his version of the word, we would repeat it to him correctly looking at him directly, and he would repeat very confidently and deliberately his version of the word. I knew that boys are often later talkers, but my gut told me that wasn't the case with him. He was trying so hard to communicate, and the words didn't sound right to us, but they did to him. Once I put my hands over my ears and asked Mr. Lindstrom to say the words, they sounded exactly like the Human Cannonball was pronouncing them.

Thing 2 was a little different. He walked much later than his twin sister (I know I'm not supposed to compare them to each other, but it's really hard not to), and once he did start walking, he weaved back and forth like a sailor back on land for the first time in months. That wasn't really what tipped me off. It was the fact that if I was standing on one side of him and said his name he absolutely had no reaction. If I was on his other side, I had to say his name a few times loudly and he would slowly turn his head as if he was only slightly aware that someone was trying to get his attention. Because I had already had a child with hearing issues, I didn't hesitate. We went straight to the doctor.

Both of my boys had bilateral tubes at 18 months. It was the magic bullet for us. Immediately as we left the hospital we noticed each of them taking in the world in a different way. With one of them it was a horn honking that sent him flying, the other was following the birds sounds in a way he never had in the past. His head was darting back and forth every time he heard a song, like he was following a bird with his eyes, only they were hidden away in the trees, so I knew he couldn't see them. He could hear them. Before, they could only hear in black and white, but immediately after surgery, they were hearing in color.

Up until those moments, I had been the mom at the park yelling at the top of my lungs to my boys, while onlookers no doubt thought I was the "screamy mom," I was only trying to make a sound loud enough for them to hear. Now, the doctors have told me not to worry about delays in communication or speech for a while, because kids are so adaptable. I have to disagree. I am watching my daughter who has no hearing issues learn to communicate, and she is leaps and bounds beyond where my boys were at this age with comprehension. I used to watch other moms communicate with their boys of the same age, and they were hearing and obeying. It took the Human Cannonball a very long time to learn to listen (which is different from hearing), try using his words first (vs. throwing, hitting, or biting), and undo some of his default sounds that he used when he couldn't hear. I am seeing some of the same behaviors with Thing 2, and it is definitely a parenting challenge that isn't any easier the second time.

Usually when I tell people that my boys had tubes, they assume that they had chronic ear infections. The Human Cannonball was only treated for one, and Thing 2 was treated for the same one for about 6 months. It really was the hearing issues that tipped me off, and after doing our due diligence (waiting through an allergy season to see if the fluid found a way out), both were cleared for the surgery, and for us, it was the best decision we'd ever made. Both boys had major language explosions within a month of the surgery, and there were some subtle changes that we noticed right away. Even though the challenge of introducing them to language (imagine if you spent most of your life communicating with people in Greek only to find out that they only understand English, and even worse, you thought you were actually speaking English...) is definitely a challenge, it's definitely a good challenge to face.

I tell you this story for two reasons:
1. So that you may pay different attention to how your children are developing. If there is anything that is concerning to you, ask about it. But, here's the key: don't stop asking if you are told that it's normal. Keep asking. Because, at some point in their development it may cease to be normal, and then may be treated. Whether it's hearing, or something else.

2. Follow your mom gut. With both my boys, it was no more than a gut feeling that there was an issue. Most medical doctors take Dr. Mom very seriously. They realize that they only see a snapshot of your child in their office, while you have the whole picture. Trust yourself, and speak with authority.

You know your child better than anyone, and some of the fixes for what seem like big huge problems are so simple. For us, this has been life changing. What major event has been life changing for you as a parent?

Food For Thought Friday is brought to you by the amazing folks at Welcome Baby Care. They are THE postpartum and newborn experts. Check out their website, and don’t forget to “like” them on Facebook to take advantage of all their knowledge. Also, be sure to follow babycaretweets on Twitter to receive news and ideas on newborn care and thoughts about parenting!

Wordless Wednesday: I Wanna Hold Your Hand

2011-08-10T06:40:00.000-05:00

This little hand used to be so much smaller. Read my post about my little preemies at It's My Baby Blog.

Christmas Shopping

2011-08-09T07:05:00.001-05:00

WHAT? Did I just say CHRISTMAS SHOPPING? I know, it's August. Enjoy the summer, Lindstrom. Come on!

Psssst... here's my secret to low holiday stress... I start my shopping in the summer. This started two years ago when I was expecting two simultaneous stork deliveries right around Christmas. In fact, we were just praying to make it through Christmas with the Twinstroms on the inside. So, I spent the late summer and early Autumn months making sure I had all of the Christmas shopping all tied up because I didn't know how mobile I'd be come December.

The benefit, I realized, was that by the time December DID roll around that year, the only thing stressing me out was the fact that I couldn't pull my underwear up without assistance. Also, I had spread that holiday spending across the course of five months instead of one. Our bank account was thankful for not having been asked to run a marathon. It worked out so well that I did it again last year, and wouldn't you know it, holidays were stress free. *Editor's note: The Twinstroms were born four days after Christmas, so my stress comes the day after Christmas when I am charged with the task of turning our house from Christmas land to birthday land swiftly.

I have some shopping guidelines that help me to organize my shopping:
1. Online shopping is not only okay, but encouraged.
2. Never pay full price, UNLESS it is that ONE thing that they are dying for, and it NEVER goes on sale.
3. Each child gets one present for their birthday (I have an October birthday and the two aforementioned December birthdays, so birthday shopping gets lumped in), one present to open on Christmas Eve from us, stocking stuffers from Santa, and one "big" present from Santa.
4. Try to keep the spending and item amounts even for all the children.
5. Keep an organized spreadsheet of gifts for moments when memory doesn't serve and also to prevent impulse buys.

Then, I have color coordinated rubbermaid containers that are hidden in child-free areas within which I hide the presents for safe keeping until the unveiling.

As I mentioned, I never pay full price, and I do a TON of online shopping. Here are my sites:

- Woot is a site that sells off one discounted item per day. They have a few sites including kids.woot where I will frequently find great things for my kids, wine.woot where I never find things for my kids, and sellout.woot where they usually have things I've been personally coveting like projectors, computers, robot vacuums, and things I've never even heard of. I check the woot sites early in the morning and then think on it for most of the day before I decide to go back and purchase there. This rule prevents me from making impulse buys.

- 1 Sale A Day has five different categories of items they sell per day. I always check the family site for toys, movies, etc. In August one year, they had 100 Silly Bandz (or some approximation of) that they were offering for shipping only. I bought a few packages, and kept them on hand that year for Halloween trick-or-treaters, party favor bags, and stocking stuffers. I have also seen Amazon Kindles and Barnes and Noble Nooks on that site for great prices.

- One of my favorite sites for kid's stuff is called Zulily. You must sign up with your email address in order to shop at this site, but they feature great discounts from multiple retailers on things for babies and moms, including clothing, toys, and jewelry.

- If you remember nothing of what I share with you here, remember this. EVERY TIME YOU SHOP ONLINE, go to ebates FIRST. If you link to your favorite retailer through ebates, the site automatically collects a rebate from your purchase (a percentage of the purchase), and sends you a BIG FAT CHECK (that's what they call it). Anytime I do online shopping, I stop at ebates first to link through them. They have tons of retailers on their list that they are affiliated with, and I have gotten lots of money back from buying stuff that I was going to order online anyway. Sometimes the cash back only covers shipping or tax, but if it was something I was going to order online anyway... I'll take it.

- If you are looking for something original, handmade, or personal, etsy is your place. Different online shop owners host their shops through etsy. In fact, one of my favorite etsy shops is my dear friend Liv's etsy shop from Choosing Beauty.

There are tons more out there, these are just a few of my favorite tricks. Many online retailers feature a daily deal. That can be a good way to get a nice discount on gifts as well. Remember not to go overboard and that if you are prone to impulse buying you must know thyself. This may not be the greatest way to shop for you. For those who are looking for a way to keep your holidays stress free, I have found that starting the shopping early, and getting in on some nice discounts has made for a really happy family. I have the Twinstroms to thank for this revelation (and so much more).

Disclosure: I have not been compensated for ANY of the featured links included in this post. However, I have used some referral links where I may be rewarded for sales that originate from these links. Each site is a site I have bought from or used (multiple times) and have had great experiences with.

Manic Monday Blogarrhea

2011-08-08T10:38:00.001-05:00

I have heard it said that the most annoying sound is a toddler whining. While that is certainly annoying, I disagree, I think that the most annoying sound is adults baby-talking to children. I don't mean the over emphasized sing-songy talk that parents often do while they describe the world to their children, I mean the squeaky talk-to-the-child-like-they-are-stupid voice. Do you know what I mean? Even worse when an adult does it and there isn't a child in sight.

This morning I saw a dude in the lake near our house with a metal detector under water. He had waders on and the whole nine yards. I'm fascinated by this hobby. My first thought is always, "I wonder how much metal they have to find and trade in to make up the cost of the gear?" Is it a lucrative hobby? Maybe I should take it up...

For the third time in the past year and a half, an employee at a store I frequent (eh-em) has told me when I've gone through her checkout lane with the Twinstroms that she remembers when I bought the pregnancy test that no doubt told me I was expecting. While I appreciate that she has a fond memory of a moment that we shared, that information belongs in the "keep it to yourself" file. However, I am open to the fact that it may be that I shop at this particular store (eh-em) a little too much.

And here's one for the "bring it up in therapy" file: I am not a hoarder in the sense that I buy and keep things I don't need. I am also not an extreme couponer in the sense that I don't stockpile things that I get at a deep discount. However, I combine these two concepts inasmuch as I save the receipts from shopping trips that tell me how much I saved because I get a little high from it. So I guess I hoard a pile of receipts that show me how good I am at couponing. This is not normal.

Food For Thought Friday: Dance Moms

2011-08-05T07:29:00.000-05:00

I'm watching this show on cable called Dance Moms. I really started watching it because the name drew me in, I was a dancer growing up, and I encountered more than a handful of "Dance Moms" or "Stage Moms" as we called them. They were the ones who were sort of living vicariously through their children. They had blinders on about their child's skills, abilities, talent, and most importantly LOVE for the craft, and were laser focused on making sure their child was in the spotlight at all times. They would construct arguments based on what was "fair" or "unfair" and argue with anyone who got in their child's way.

The show nauseated me (not enough to stop watching, I've got a season pass to this one) because the mother's behave like pre-teens and their children, who are disciplined and focused on doing their best, are more like adults. It was all too familiar.

As a side note, I cannot for the life of me figure out how these girls are so good at what they do when their instructor (or "coach") did not rise from a seated position the entire show. Oh wait, there was one time that she came at a child with a bat to help "correct" her. WHAT? Parents, if your child dances at a studio where the teacher never leaves a seated position except to threaten your child with a blunt object, you are wasting your money. I don't care how good your child is.

As a child, dance taught me confidence, appreciation for art, coordination, and discipline. As an adult, dance taught me about history, communication, and more discipline. The lessons of dance go far beyond the dance studio. The mothers on "Dance Moms" seem not at all interested in those lessons. They want "the best" for their children, but rather than focus on the myriad of learning experiences, they are focusing on their child getting the brightest spotlight.

It got me thinking, isn't that what we want for our children? For them to shine their brightest? Sure. But isn't it also true that they will likely learn more in their dimmer spots? Life isn't always fair. Life is full of bumps, and pain, and surprises that pull the rug out from under us when we are busy shining our brightest, and throws us into a dim spot. We do our children a disservice if we try to interfere with their fortune of hanging out in a dim spot or two. That's where the greatest and most valuable learning takes place. It is a fine line between supportive and destructive. I think that the best we can do is be aware of that line, and which side of it we are on as parents, and remember that the best for our children is sometimes the hardest for our children.

Food For Thought Friday is brought to you by the amazing folks at Welcome Baby Care. They are THE postpartum and newborn experts. Check out their website, and don’t forget to “like” them on Facebook to take advantage of all their knowledge. Also, be sure to follow babycaretweets on Twitter to receive news and ideas on newborn care and thoughts about parenting!

Wordless Wednesday: Reason Number One Million Why I LOVE Living In Minneapolis

2011-08-03T10:48:00.000-05:00

Now, pop over to It's My Baby Blog to see what I have to say about the work/mom balance.

Picture This

2011-08-02T08:00:00.000-05:00

The Lindstroms just had our very first family picture taken. The Twinstroms are 19 months old, and we just got around to having a professional picture taken of the fam damily. We didn't even do it because we wanted to, we did it because we had to for our church's directory. Even so, I put it off until the last possible date. We have snapshots of the family, and we have oodles of pictures of the kids, and even a handful of pictures of my husband. I'm usually the photographer because I don't like to have my picture taken. I am not so easy on the eyes.

You know what the worst part of the family picture is? It's coordinating the outfits without looking like you're matching. I suck at this task. It also stresses me out.

At one point I was so irritated because I hate doing the outfit coordination so much, when I realized that either I would have to do it, or it wouldn't get done. While the Lindstroms don't mind sticking out like a handful of sore thumbs, we're not ones to go nude in the church directory (though, that would shake things up a little).

After about three days of thinking and coordinating (and amazingly, very little shopping) we got it all figured out, and I'll be damned if my kids didn't all smile at the same time. It actually turned out okay, and I'm sure our fellow congregants are content to continue to be in the dark when it comes to knowing what we all look like naked.

The family photo is one of those things that you wish you had when it becomes too late. I don't necessarily mean that someone has to die or something before you realize that you wish you had a picture of the whole family. I mean that in four years, when the Human Cannonball is eight, and the Twinstroms are five, I'm going to be darn glad that I went through the headache of finding coordinating (but not matching) gear for the five of us. It was a small price to pay (especially when you compare it to the amazing load of cash I accidentally dropped on the purchase of the very best of the best photos) because you can't turn back time, just ask Cher.

Manic Monday Blogarrhea: The Keys To Crazy Town

2011-08-01T08:00:00.001-05:00

I am a person who believes strongly that if you are going to laugh at something someday, you should laugh about it now. I have a story for you, and it's a doozy. I'll give you the end first, we lost a set of keys. Two house keys, two car keys, one key chain. Gone. The story isn't that we lost them, the story is HOW we lost them. It is a story of what happens to the brain when the brain is in the head of sleepy parents raising three energetic children. Many things had to go exactly wrong in order for this to happen.

We go to church as a family on Sundays, but this Sunday was a little different, one Sunday a year our church holds church outside in one of our beautiful parks by one of our 10,000 lakes. It is my favorite Sunday of the year, but packing for this event takes a little more than our typical Sunday load.

I had gone out to the garage to find our picnic blanket. As I passed the car, I realized that I was seriously annoyed with our neighbor's tree branches that have been hanging over our driveway and whipping me in the face every time I get in and out of the car. I decided to stop fantasizing about clipping the tree branches, so I grabbed the clippers out of the garage, along with the blanket, and some camp chairs which we were also packing in the car. As I loaded the car and clipped the branches (cursing under my breath... and maybe a little over my breath), I placed my husband's keys on the hood of the car.

I don't think I need to tell you the rest of the story for you to know what happened to the keys. They are gone. They are somewhere between our house and the park two cities away. I have driven freeways looking for a set of keys, I have walked the neighborhood in the middle of the street looking for keys, I have been on my knees in the bushes LOOKING FOR KEYS. The keys are gone.

After I set the keys on the hood of the car, the following chain of events happened:
- We walked out the front door, each holding a twin, and keeping the human cannonball in line.
- Mr. Lindstrom asked me if I had keys.
- I reached into my purse and handed him my keys so we could lock the door, and mentioned that he should grab his keys from the hood of the car where I (idiotically) placed them for "safe keeping" while I (angrily) clipped the branches of the neighbor's tree.
- Mr. Lindstrom and I had to trade twins in order to get them in the proper car seats (which took a surprising amount of coordination).
- We chatted with a neighbor who was passing by looking for his lost dog.

Then we absent-mindedly got into the car, and screeched away as not to be late for "outside" church. It wasn't until we got to the parking lot for outside church that Mr. Lindstrom looked at me in ernest and said, "you know what? I don't think I ever grabbed the keys from the hood of the car."

Realistically, losing your keys is not really more than a gigantic pain in the ass. But we learned a valuable lesson: This, my friends, is your brain on parenting.

Wordless Wednesday: Mom's Day Out

2011-07-27T15:36:00.000-05:00

As an extra special treat today, I received three chopsticks in my pack. I decided that is even luckier than finding a four leaf clover.

Parenting Obstacle Course

2011-07-26T17:51:00.003-05:00

Before people decide to become parents, they should have to complete this obstacle course:

First, they will read the directions to this complicated obstacle course while a chorus of sweet cherubic voices chant, "Mommy, Daddy, Mommy, Daddy" at increasingly loud volumes.

Once they have finished comprehending the directions (this is sure to take hours, as it is impossible to concentrate when anyone is yelling that loud), they will dodge toddlers underfoot to meet a screaming baby. They will have to figure out what the baby needs. A new diaper? A bottle? A pacifier? A good ol' burp?

Once the newborn is soothed, the potential parent will complete the "drive the carpool" challenge, wherein they configure the proper car seats for each age and stage, transport the children from shelter through extreme weather to the car, and secure them safely in the vehicle. Realizing they are late for their destination, they will have to find the proper route to avoid traffic to the next stop.

The next stop is a grocery store, where they will have to figure out how to successfully restrain three children in a grocery cart while they complete a shopping list of 10 items. While shopping they will dodge slow browsers who take up the entire aisle, abandoned grocery carts, judgmental grandmas, sample ladies who will offer the children in the cart delicious goodies. They will have thirty minutes to complete this task, as the children will become hungry, restless, and will begin to misbehave.

Next, they will encounter an inquisitive four-year-old who will ask questions constantly as the potential parent tries to complete the next task. The potential parents will be asked to prepare meals for four picky eaters while simultaneously sorting and doing the laundry for a household of five.

The next task will be scheduling a babysitter so that the potential parents can have a night out. They will be given the phone number of another parent, and will have to pry a list of five potential babysitter's phone numbers out of this other parent who also needs a night out and is reluctant to share her trusted and protected list of sitters lest new potential parent steals said list, and consequently the sitter, leaving the other parent without a date night.

Once a babysitter is scheduled, the potential parents will have to get themselves ready for a nice dinner while dodging scattered toys, cleaning up diaper blowouts, playing referee for physical or mouthy siblings, and manning the time out chair.

Once potential parents are ready for their big night out, they will receive a call from the babysitter. She has a low grade fever. She feels well enough to take care of the kids, but wants all parties know that she could be contagious. There are two options here, potential parents can take the sitter despite her unexplained illness, enjoy a nice dinner in the midst of the obstacle course and return to a house full of tears and puke, which they will need to manage until the next day breaks. OR potential parents can cancel the sitter and continue the course by completing 2 child baths, reading 7 stories (2 of them will be read 3 times each), and tucking the children in for the night.

The course will begin again after 6 hours of fitful, interrupted sleep, and will continue FOR ETERNITY. *

I think that should weed out some of the riffraff.

*Some scenarios collected from my life.

Food For Thought Friday: Stranger Danger

2011-07-22T06:30:00.039-05:00

The Human Cannonball is taking Karate lessons. Among the multitude of important lessons he learns at each of his sessions, he is learning a lot about self defense and stranger danger. On the way home from a recent lesson where stranger danger was the sole topic du jour, we had this conversation:

Human Cannonball (HC): Are there bad guys in this world?
Me: Unfortunately, yes, there are.
HC: Are there superheroes to get the bad guys in this world?
Me: Well, there aren't really superheroes to get the bad guys, but there are really good people who help keep the bad guys away from us, like police officers, parents, teachers, and other nice people.
HC: Are there bad guys in Saint Paul? (we live in Minneapolis)
Me: Yes, there are bad guys everywhere.
HC: Do they have superheroes?
Me: Just the same kind of nice people we have in Minneapolis.
HC: What about in China?
Me: Same thing.
HC: How about Florida?
Me: Same thing...

and so on, and so forth, just like a normal conversation with a four-year-old, until he found something else to distract him and ask twenty questions about.

There are many things about this world that frighten me for my children. Stranger danger is one of them. Consider this; as difficult as it was to explain what a stranger is when we were young, there is the added dimension now of the internet. Strangers are lurking every which where. Some strangers will turn into friends, and some may turn into very dangerous acquaintances. Scaring children too much on the front end may prevent them from being open and meeting new people, and being too relaxed around it could lead to over trust and bad decision making. It's a teeter-totter, and it's getting even tippier by the generation.

Listening to the Human Cannonball work through his questions and try to make sense of the make believe world he loves where the superheroes always win and the bad guys pay for their actions, and apply it to our world, which is not always so just, makes my head spin with all of the lessons he has yet to learn about people. How absolutely wonderful we can be, and how absolutely horrible we can be.

What are your family strategies for teaching stranger danger? What have been your challenges, and how have you addressed them?

The Making Of a Family Story

2011-07-21T12:40:00.001-05:00

Two things that you must know about me before I begin: 1) I am a slave to my routine. How do I maintain a fitness program? Routine. How do I retain my (relative) sanity with a four-year-old and twins? Routine. How do I manage my household? Routine. I am not a fan of improv when it comes to life, but I am abundantly aware that the routine is going to get shaken up whether I like it or not. 2) I am a firm believer that if you are going to laugh about something later, it's best to laugh about it in the moment.

In the midst of an enormous record breaking heatwave here in the twin cities, we fell victim to the inevitable power outage. Less than an hour into losing our air conditioning, I was definitely not keeping my cool, nor was the rest of the family. Sweats were breaking, tempers were flaring, and kids were waking. At about 9:30, I put on my matriarch pants and marched the whole fam damily out to the car which would carry us on our adventure to find a cool place to lay our heads. Lacking internet, but utilizing our smart (and alarmingly slow) phones, we headed straight to a hotel laden area of Minneapolis right near the Mall of America. To our dismay, each hotel notified us that it was going to be tough to find a hotel for the evening. Every other sweaty person with no power had the same idea we had, the ENTIRE TWIN CITIES METRO AREA was sold out of hotel rooms. We were still in a relatively good mood. I wasn't really trying to think about the fact that these kids were all going to need to get settled in somewhere new and fall (hopefully) soundly asleep again. We called my mom who lives in a wee little condo (compared to the space that we are used to rolling around in), and headed off to Edina. We have other family closer, but they are on the same grid as we are, and also had no power.

We arrived, divvied up the sleeping arrangements, and then tried our darndest to get to sleep. Without sharing every detail of what followed, I will only tell you that the Twinstroms are used to sleeping only in their cribs. In their 18 months, they have only slept away from home for a week when we went to Florida, and it easily took them two days to adjust to the new sleeping arrangements there. When they are asleep in their own cribs, they are amazing sleepers (remember what I said about routine? Yeah, that), but away from home in pack and plays, not so much. We finally did get a wink of sleep, but it was just that, a wink.

In recovering from our little adventure, it occurred to me that THIS is what makes those family stories. The ones that start with, "remember that one time..." The status quo doesn't make the headline of the family news, it's those little adventures, those times that the routine gets thrown an amazing curveball, and everyone has to adjust. Going with the flow only makes the story better, because if someone goes too far beyond pouting, the story gets lost and becomes a bad memory. We're not in the business of making bad memories in the Lindstrom family, we would like to collect the good ones. Now that we are cool and well rested, I am laughing. This is definitely one for the "remember when" file.

Manic Monday Blogarrhea: The Baseball Edition

2011-07-18T06:30:00.001-05:00

I have a problem. I think it either requires therapy or a support group, though I'm not sure either exist for this type of... thing. When I am a spectator at a professional sporting event, during that oh-so-important moment when the team is being introduced (I feel like there has to be a more ceremonious description of the event), I am the one in the bleachers crying. Yup, big ol' fat tears rolling down my big ol' fat cheeks. Why? I HAVE NO IDEA!!! Since I am a Minnesotan, I am a Twins fan. Have you ever heard the Twins theme song (is that what it's called)? It's as cheesy as all get out. Still, I'm a virtual puddle during that campy tune while the team takes the field. It doesn't matter if they win or lose, or if they're good or bad, and there is no other time of the game that I have this reaction. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME???

While I was at a game the other night, I witnessed a disturbing trend. Short Jorts. In other words, short jean shorts. The kind that are so short that there is a constant fear of a stray butt cheek. What is with our recent inability to keep buns covered? If it's not the short shorts with the butt cheek falling out, it's the low ride with the butt crack peeking out. I have news for you, there isn't a part of any person's butt that I (or anyone else) want to see. If I were to be in a pageant, my platform would be keeping the buns covered. My talent would be putting together Ikea furniture.

I would also like to take this moment to publicly thank Mr. Lindstrom for not proposing to me at a sporting event on the jumbotron.

Food For Thought Friday: Balance, It's Mom-plicated

2011-07-15T07:06:00.001-05:00

It's an age old story, really. Mom trying to strike a balance between work, parenting, life, marriage, and house management. Is there really such a thing?

No, seriously, is there? Because I've been working on it myself for the duration of my parenting. Sometimes I can get a little "balancey" which to me, means that I am in a zone where everyone is getting robbed a little, but not enough to be totally ignored. How sad is that? When I tell people that I work on the weekends, and have a flexible schedule during the week so that I can be home with my kids for the most part, even I think it sounds blissful. In fact, I often tell people that it's perfect. I mean, it should be, right? The truth is, a lot suffers because of my particular schedule, and I'm pretty certain you feel the same way about your own schedule.

I'm not going to list out the job description of a mom, though there are some people in the world who could benefit from it. What I'll say is that parenting young people who require so much attention (and they deserve it!) makes it difficult to be the wife, employee, friend, homeowner, housekeeper, fill-in the blank person you want to be. Not to mention that on top of all of that, we always think that someone else has it better because they have a nanny, or they are a stay at home parent, or they have a cleaning service, or they have a husband with a lucrative job, or they get summers off...

From where I sit, it seems like the balancing act of parenting is just that... an act. For those who don't look like they have anything together, I think we need to cut them some slack (eh-em... I am talking about myself here), and for those who look like they have it wrapped up tight with a perfectly tied little bow, I think we need to compassionately support them for the areas that probably aren't but we don't see.

How do you keep balance in your life? Do you think you can have balance as a parent? What does balance mean to you?

Food For Thought Friday is brought to you by the amazing folks at Welcome Baby Care. They are THE postpartum and newborn experts. Check out their website, and don’t forget to “like” them on Facebook to take advantage of all their knowledge. Also, be sure to follow babycaretweets on Twitter to receive news and ideas on newborn care and thoughts about parenting!

A Little Reminder... For Me... and For You, Too!

2011-07-14T09:03:00.001-05:00

I am finding myself getting caught up again in the "parenting race." I've done it in the past, and it's never productive. You know the race; so and so's kid is potty trained, and thus and such is already speaking Spanish fluently, and what's her face is going to be president in like five minutes. Meanwhile, the Human Cannonball is still being described by my friends and parenting peers as "a total handful" (though, I think he's got a lot of spunk, and is brilliant and loving. Honestly, it really hurts my heart when other people describe him in that way -- so that hint of defensiveness you detect is definitely there.), Thing 1 knows when she's got a dirty diaper - but has no interest in the potty, and Thing 2 (having just gotten ear tubes to help him hear better... or at all) has only a small handful of clear words.

It can be really easy to think that my parenting is being judged by the skills and abilities of my children. The truth is, in some cases, it probably is. In those cases, it's my business to ignore that judgment because the fact is that my kids are my kids. They are all different from each other, and from other children. They will do things and become things at their own pace with my assistance on their cue. They are individuals, learning and growing at their own pace. None of them are going to go to college still peeing their pants, or grunting instead of using words, right? (Fingers crossed.)

Just a little reminder for me, that I thought I'd share with you, in case you needed the reminder, too.

Wordless Wednesday: Our Family In Shoes

2011-07-13T08:06:00.001-05:00

Pop over to It's My Baby Blog and stand in my shoes for a quick moment. I have reposted one of my favorite stories of early lessons in loss.

I Could Not Possibly Twi-harder!

2011-07-12T06:30:00.001-05:00

My name is Colleen, I'm 34 years of age, and I am a Twi-hard. I just finished the Twilight series for the second time. Both times I read them within the space of two weeks putting them down only to sleep and care for my children. I've been reading another book for two days, and I still have to remind myself that the characters aren't vampires. To make matters worse, I have had to remind myself that I am not a vampire, nor is my husband, nor my neighbors and friends. My children are not half vampires. We do not have werewolves (or "shape changers") in our midst, and I am not trying to keep any secrets about what or who I am. I couldn't Twi-harder if I tried.

When you are a Twi-hard, you have to pick a team. Team Edward (the Vampire) or Team Jacob (the Werewolf). I am prepared to say that I cannot imagine why on earth anyone would ever be on Team Jacob. Yeah, I said it... game on!

Here's the thing about Edward; Okay, so he may be a little stalker-ish, but he does it from a place of protection. He is gracious in that he doesn't want to control Bella, he only wants to keep her safe. He is strong, intelligent, and level headed (when he doesn't want to suck her blood).

Jacob is immature, rude, and self-absorbed. I just don't understand the appeal.

Unless, of course, you are talking specifically about the actors who play those characters. In which case, I am on Team Jacob, because I don't care who you are... this:

beats this:

any old day of the week. But let's be honest, I wouldn't kick either of them out of bed.

What do you think... what team are you on? Or do you think all this Twi-madness is Twi-outofcontrol?

Manic Monday Blogarrhea

2011-07-11T06:30:00.003-05:00

- I have a new favorite quote:
No woman will ever be satisfied because no man will ever have a chocolate penis that shoots out money. ~Author Unknown

I mostly like the visual of a chocolate penis that shoots out money, so if you're looking for a theme for my birthday cake next year...

- It frustrates me that the weather channel and my local weather people are always disagreeing over the week's forecast. I'd really like to get them in a room together, give them a bottle of wine, and see if they couldn't agree on just some really moderate temperatures and sunny weather.

- I try really hard not to be judgmental of other people's parenting. All parents are different, all kids are different, and I don't know who I am to have a say in how everyone else "should" be doing it. However, when I spot a wrong, I call it out. This one is a doozie. The other day, my husband and I were having some leisure time sans children at a local park with a little restaurant. We were seated on the patio near a mother with a young son (possibly 3) and the mom had a friend along. The little boy kept asking to be taken to the bathroom, and the mother kept telling him that she was busy. For about 15 or 20 minutes this went on, when finally the young boy wet his pants, she rolled her eyes, and then proceeded to change him on the crowded patio in full view of everyone. Wow, right?

- If you are not watching Curb Your Enthusiasm, you need to figure out how to get HBO and start watching it 5 minutes ago. The scene from last night's episode where Larry David is trying to explain to a young woman how to use a tampon is enough reason. It never occurred to me that men have absolutely no idea how we operate those things! While I'm on the topic, do me (and possibly you?) a favor and watch Love in the Wild on NBC. It is so horribly awesome!

Food For Thought Friday: Congratulations, You're a Big...

2011-07-08T06:30:00.000-05:00

You know how it goes, your bestie just had a baby, it's her second, and you want to bring the new babe a gift. Such cute things to choose from when it comes to buying for the baby... and then you remember... the big sibling. You gotta get a gift for the big sibling! It's customary. Whether it started being the case because you don't want the big sibling to feel left out, or the big sibling deserves to be congratulated on their new role, the world may never know, but it would be rude NOT to get the sibling a gift, right? But what?

I am an enthusiastic gift giver, a passionate de-clutterer, and a mom who is up to her eyeballs in toys! When friends ask what to give big siblings as a gift, I have but one answer, "books." I have never once heard a parent say, "we have too many books!" I have, however, heard the refrain, "THERE ARE TOO MANY TOYS IN THIS HOUSE!!!!" Mostly I've heard that from myself, but I have faint memories of hearing it at my house growing up and the homes of my friends. I'm not anti-toy, for sure! I am guilty as charged in the area of buying toys for a big sibling, but I'm trying to recover from that, and find new and exciting ways to honor the big sibling.

Sometimes we get so caught up in the routine of buying gifts that we forget the occasion and the intent behind the gift. For me, giving the older sibling a gift is a way of saying, "you have a new responsibility, I'm excited for you, and whether you realize it or not, you have just grown up a whole lot." I've been trying hard to select gifts befitting of that message.

Do you have a go-to sibling gift? Or do you forgo the big sibling gift altogether?

Food For Thought Friday is brought to you by the amazing folks at Welcome Baby Care. They are THE postpartum and newborn experts. Check out their website, and don’t forget to “like” them on Facebook to take advantage of all their knowledge. Also, be sure to follow babycaretweets on Twitter to receive news and ideas on newborn care and thoughts about parenting!

You Got Some 'Splainin' to Do!

2011-07-07T06:30:00.001-05:00

I'm on a rant. It's not pretty.

Against my better judgement, we took the Human Cannonball to see Cars 2. The movie is very heavy on the James Bond theme. While I usually appreciate Pixar's ability to weave in adult jokes to their kids movies, the inside jokes were a little too outside for my taste. There was a LOT of shooting, chasing, torturing, and using the phrase, "KILL HIM" (especially in reference to the beloved Lightening McQueen). I'd heard the reviews (spoiler alert: The reviews are bad), I'd had friends tell me how disappointed (and downright angry) they were after taking their children to see the movie, I'd even thought long and hard about my personal beliefs as a parent (despite the fact that the Human Cannonball was all geared up for the movie - which we got him excited about before the movie was released, we are a family who does not promote pretending to shoot or kill). I'm here to tell you now, I should have listened to my gut and not taken him to the movie. That's not what I'm all revved up about. Having taken him to see the movie was MY mistake. I own that.

We are huge fans of the Pixar movie UP. We have watched it on DVD umptifoo times, and the Human Cannonball will quickly list it in his top five favorites (likely behind all three Toy Story movies). I love the story of Up. I love the relationship between the curmudgeon Carl Fredricksen and the "boy scout" Russell (the Human Cannonball does, too. We have had a series of goldfish named Carl and Russell). I adore the theme of animal rights that weaves through the movie. I am head over heels for the way the movie defines the big idea of adventure. I am even abundantly satisfied with the themes of death and grief that the film portrays. I have very, very few gripes about this movie. And yet, if you check the rating, it is rated PG in response mostly to the aforementioned themes of death and grief (as noted by the Motion Picture Association of America as Some Peril and Action).

Then there's Cars 2. The bulk of the movie is fast moving, shooting, bombing, torturing, action with dialogue about destroying and killing characters. Yet, the movie carries a G rating. Whether the G rating came as a result of the fact that the cars in the movie are "imaginary characters" vs. "depictions of real people" in my opinion is a moot point. To my child, these cars are as real as I am. I have to agree. I attach myself the characters and their personalities because THE CARS TALK! They don't just need gas every too few miles, or pester you for an oil change every three months. They talk. They have friendships, they fall in love, they have self esteem, they are more than just cars.

Here's where I'm really mad: What is with our culture that we are so jammed up about talking to children about real death? Part of the cycle of life. People die. Babies die, Elderly people die, and people of every age in between die. Yet, it appears as though we are perfectly able to reconcile conversations about intent to kill and shooting. Are you with me here? I was watching the faces of other parents in the theater and wondering if they were as disturbed and aggravated as I was at the theme of the movie and I was surprised that there was no reaction at all on their faces. I can't tell you how many of my friends (whom I have always, and still do consider really good parents) have thought nothing of the violent themes in the movie. I have sat on countless panels on the topic of how to talk to children about death, and yet I have no idea how to talk to my children about violence and intent to kill. While I know someday that conversation should and will come, I don't think it's appropriate to have now. I do, however, think that the conversation about death and dying as a part of the life cycle is a vital and appropriate conversation to have at every age and stage.

I'm not mad a Pixar (although, I can't believe that they failed so miserably with Cars 2), and I'm not really mad at the Motion Picture Association of America, after all, they were just responding to our culture. That's who I'm mad at, our culture. A culture that seems to promote violence and intent to kill as entertainment, but views natural death as too difficult or (dare I say it) REAL to expose people too.

Where are you with this? Are you with me? Or do you think I'm so far off base I should send it an email and get GPS directions to find my way back? Or anywhere in between... I'm up for a civilized discussion...

Wordless Wednesday: Chip On His Shoulder...

2011-07-06T06:30:00.003-05:00

Offer Ends July 5

2011-06-30T12:33:00.005-05:00

I just got a promotional email in my inbox. 10% off at a particular retailer, and the offer ends July 5. My stomach seized. Offer ends July 5.

I didn't get that kind of warning when my first daughter was born. "Take full advantage. Offer ends July 5."

Born beautiful and perfect on March 19th, the center of my universe for 109 days, I went to pick Brady up at daycare on July 5, and her nap had never ended. She never woke up. Firefighters, Paramedics, Doctors and Nurses worked to restore life to her tiny body, but ultimately they decided they had done all they could do. Offer ends July 5.

I tried to have a talk with the manager, to see if I could get an extension on the offer. The manager said, "no." No matter how much time passes, and how many great deals I've gotten since, I'm still going to grieve over that really amazing, one of a kind offer that ended July 5.

I really miss my girl.

Please take a trip over to It's My Baby Blog for a post on SIDS info that is in memory of my dear Brady Judith.

Wordless Wednesday: 18 Months Ago TODAY!

2011-06-29T06:30:00.004-05:00

Try to pry your eyes away from the enormity of that swollen belly, and check out my post over at It's My Baby Blog about the cruelty of the baby registry.

Will That Be For Here? Or To Go?

2011-06-28T06:30:00.010-05:00

I've been on both sides. I've been seated at a table in a restaurant with my honey, carefully pacing the meal so that we don't finish up too early or take too long as to have to add another hour to the babysitter's rate, when a family, with children (young ones like ours), sits right next to us, so close that I am flinching in anticipation of the macaroni and cheese flying at the proper trajectory to hit me in the head and leave a sticky residue behind. I've also been the mom who is carefully balancing a child on each hip with a bag of "quiet" toys and "kid friendly appetizers" while trying to keep the Human Cannonball (note: from hither-to-forward, the four-year-old will be known as the Human Cannonball) in line. When we sit down, I paste my apologetic face on and make sure it stays put as all the adults at the surrounding tables place their eyes carefully on us. I can see behind their eyes, they are wondering how this is going to go. Because I've been them, I know how it feels. Guess what, I'm wondering how it's going to go, too.

I've gone 'round and 'round with folks about kids in restaurants, or really kids anywhere. People have very strong opinions about where kids do and don't belong. Some of them I even agree with. I have a rule that if a restaurant doesn't have high chairs (and specifically, enough for multiple children) then I will not bring my children to that restaurant. I also have a rule that if I do bring my children to a restaurant that we will vacating our table by 6:30 pm, at the very latest. I don't believe that children belong at any old restaurant at any time, I believe that children belong at family restaurants before 6:30.

I will even go so far as to say that kids belong at family restaurants before 6:30 pm OFTEN. We may be a little extreme, but we go out to dinner as a family once a week. Here's why, if I don't take them out, how will they learn to be out? Katie K-9, who hosts a radio show on My Talk 107.1 (the same station you can catch me talking on) says of dogs, "don't hide them, train them." I have to say, I sort of feel the same about children. We try to teach the principals at home, and then take the show on the road so that they can try out their skillz.

So, here's what happens when we take our children out to eat, sometimes they are big old sweet bundles of super-awesome, and sometimes they forget all their manners and make me embarrassed to be in public. I do not know until we are in it what the heck the outcome is going to be. When they are awesome, I watch the people around us relax in relief (and then I thank God that we have been spared a nightmare). On the occasions that they eat like cookie monster and experiment with their pitching hand, I watch the people around us get irritated. I cannot tell you how many times we have pulled the ripcord mid-meal just to put the other patrons of the restaurant out of their misery, but we are there in the first place so that our children will learn how to behave in public - it is a process.

This is my wish for all of human-kind, it's really a simple wish; for those dining without kids, please be patient and trust that the parents near you will handle the situation to the best of their abilities. And for those dining with kids, please be respectful of those around you while you do your best to teach your children manners in the moment (FYI, these little reminders are for me too, because like I said, I've been on both sides. I really have to remind myself not to tense up when a table full of kids ends up right next to me, after all, I don't have to parent those kids!)

All that being said, I think kids are super great. I like them. So much that I made a bunch of 'em. However, when I don't want to be around them, I go to a place where I am sure they won't be and I'm so very thankful that places like that exist, because this mom needs a break from time to time.

Manic Monday Blogarrhea: On Assignment

2011-06-27T08:23:00.002-05:00

I am taking an awesome e-course offered by my dear friend Liv Lane from Choosing Beauty. Liv inspires me (and so many others), by finding beauty in her midst each and every day. As an exercise for the e-course, Liv has laid out this request of us, "to write something revealing, brave, or bold on your blog." Many of us are linking up, so once you're done reading my brave, bold, blabber, click away to your hearts content, and hopefully you'll be inspired to live honestly and vulnerably today.

I have to be honest, I struggled ever so slightly with this task. I stand around this blog naked so darn much, it was hard for me to think of something revealing, brave, or bold that you don't already know about me. I try so hard to balance fun, frivolity, and humor with the reality of my life as a grieving mother of five, with only three living children. I have told you all about how I really feel about mothering, what I think of my body, and if you've hung out here enough, you've realized that I have more than a healthy love for Target. What is braver, bolder, or more revealing than that?

Let's try this: I am the adult child of an alcoholic. I have never said this publicly (as in to masses). It was always said to me that my dad's story of being an alcoholic is "his story to tell." I now understand that, yes, it is his story to tell of his unhealthy relationship with alcohol, but I have a story, too. MY story is what it was like to be the child of one who has an unhealthy relationship with alcohol. To answer your questions, he is allegedly in recovery (I use "allegedly" because I no longer have a relationship with him, but I assume that he still works his program), and he had an unhealthy relationship with alcohol my whole life, but was first put in treatment when I was 20. A facet of the illness of addiction is that the family dances around the alcoholic trying to protect them. It has been 14 years since my dad was in treatment, and I haven't had a relationship with him for the past 4 years, and I still have danced around telling MY story to protect HIS. So, now I am done.

I was just about to say that I have no shame around this. Then I realized that would be a humungous lie. I have tons of shame around this. Or perhaps shame isn't the right word. Maybe grief? Pain? I regularly engage in personal pity parties because I didn't get to have the father that I believe I deserved. I often have a difficult time accepting love (mostly from myself) because I grew up with one parent who loved to drink more than he was able to love anything else. I have almost no memories of my life before I was 8 years old, and even after that age, it's really foggy. I remember snippets of time, but if you asked me "what was it like..." I would not be able to give you an accurate image of my childhood.

On the flip side, it was about 2 or 3 years ago now (incidentally, sitting across a table from my friend Liv from Choosing Beauty, who is hosting this blog hop) when I realized that I am actually thankful for my bumpy childhood (may I just take a moment to say that my mom is my everything, and has done the job being a parent and a half for longer than I care to quantify - and she has done it well). I am thankful for the person I have become and what I have learned from this life experience. I definitely wish it were different. I definitely wish I had happier memories, or memories at all. I look at the father-daughter relationship that other's have and I feel a big old empty hole. You know what, though? I turned out pretty darn awesome (I think). I make good choices, and I realize that they are choices. The best choice I have ever made is to marry a man who is the father to my children that I never had.

This is my story.

Food For Thought Friday: Know Thy Child

2011-06-24T06:30:00.000-05:00

I am sure that many people have written a version of the 10 Commandments of parenting. In my opinion, there is only one commandment in parenting, and it is this: Know Thy Child. This week alone, I have given myself this pep talk about 25 times. I want to share the voices in my head with you...

YOU are the parent of your child. YOU know your child better than anyone else. YOU get to make the decisions that are best for you and your family. There are many parenting methods and tons of tips, there are even people who will shout to you that they know better than you what your child needs. NOBODY KNOWS THE BEST WAY TO PARENT YOUR CHILD BUT YOU. As a caring and informed parent, you will be responsible for gathering information, you will be responsible for assessing the information, and you will be responsible for implementing the techniques that work for you and your family, leaving behind those that don't work for you. Plenty of people will have an opinion about it, and they are entitled to their opinion. What really matters is YOUR opinion. Oh, and one more thing, and this is the best part, YOU DON'T OWE ANYONE ANY EXPLANATION FOR WHY YOU CHOOSE TO PARENT THE WAY YOU DO!

When you are a first time parent, especially in the first few months, everyone has an opinion and they feel free to share it. How you should dress the child, diaper the child, help the child sleep, feed the child... and on and on. I remember feeling so defenseless, like I knew that they knew that I didn't know what I was doing (read that a few times until it makes sense). Some of the thicker skin comes with getting a few years under your belt, facing some inevitable challenges, and even realizing that you've made some mistakes. Even then, it can be easy to forget what you know in the presence of authoritative voices.

If you remember the commandment: Know Thy Child, you will be instantly back on track. You may look to others for advice, but remember that they have not parented your child. You may seek methods from authors or experts, but remember that they know nothing specifically of your child. Now, get out there and parent your child like only you can!

I Know All There Is To Know About The Diaper Game... (Cloth Diapering Part II)

2011-06-23T06:30:00.000-05:00

As promised, today's post will be devoted to answering cloth diapering questions. Sorry to those of you who could care less, I hope you're still a little bit curious...

1. What is a wet bag? I would say that a wet bag isn't actually a necessity, but since we bit the bullet and bought a few, I can't remember living without. Wet bags come in many different forms, but what they all do is store soiled cloth diapers in a waterproof environment. They also come in quite handy if you've got little swimmers in your family and on vacations. You can throw swimsuits right in there and they won't get the rest of your luggage wet. But, I digress. Wet bags are not the only way you can store soiled diapers. Before we had a wet bag, I would put the soiled diapers in a trash can that was used solely for cloth diapers. If we were on the move, I would bring gallon ziplocs. Wet bags are just way cuter and a little easier. They also definitely help keep odor to a minimum. We have 2 large ones that hang on our door knob, and one small one for travel. You can find them at most stores that sell cloth diapers, or online.

2. Do you use a special detergent to wash them? Sort of. We use a fragrance free detergent as recommended. Many cloth diapering sites and retailers have lists of "really good detergents." We've gotten by just fine with whatever fragrance free detergent we have around anyway, some oxyclean or bleach (which I throw in about once a month just to keep everything white), and stripping every quarter. I'm all about making this as easy as possible. Giving your child a place to pee and poop shouldn't feel like rocket science.

3. Do you wash the poopy ones in the toilet? My answer to this is "rarely." Here's the truth (and those who are easily nauseated by potty talk, you may just want to move along to the next question: when the babies are small, and breastfed, their poop is water soluble, so what's left on the diaper is easily washed off in the washing machine. When they start eating solids, their poops are more solid, so there's not much residue left on the diaper usually. To mitigate that residue, we used flushable liners in the beginning stages. They are inexpensive, and can be washed (many people don't know that) if they are just wet and re-used. Some people buy an attachment that you can put on your toilet to help spray off the stinky. I've heard that people really like that, but I've never found it to be necessary. It is very much a learn as you go and punt when you need to process. These days I can pretty much count on the solids just falling right off, but sometimes they do need a little dunk in the toilet. It really is a non-issue. I think there is a misconception of people who don't cloth diaper that we are tossing poop around with our bare hands. I would say without a doubt, I have no more contact with poop that I do when we use disposables.

4. I also heard that once the little one starts moving is when they start to leak. Is this true or does it depend on the brand or size? Also, you only had to buy one size for all the years? I have not had that issue. For me, when our diapers start to leak it's user error. For example, if I didn't stuff them correctly, or fasten them correctly, or if they need to be stripped (washing and rinsing multiple times without detergent to get rid of detergent build up which compromises absorbency). With disposable diapers, leaking is a good indication that it's time to go up a size. That may be the case with cloth, too. We opted to buy the Bum Genius one size (many different brands have one size now), they snap down for the little ones, and you expand them when they get bigger. The Twinstroms are in the biggest size now, and it will take them easily through the twos. I like the one size because you can get a really good bang for your buck. I bought some from craigslist, which was really economical. Once you get them, if they are not in great condition there are lots of repair kits available for purchase (sometimes elastic is loose or velcro has lost its stick).

Mostly I encourage people to just try it out. Give it a shot, if you find out it's not for you, then no harm no foul. If you don't try it, you'll never know. Most importantly, don't knock it 'til you rock it!

"Wordless" Wednesday: Twin Talk

2011-06-22T06:30:00.002-05:00

Someday I'll write a book called 'The Lazy Mom's Guide To Parenting,' when I do, you'll probably see this chapter on getting your kids to like their vegetables that I'm premiering over at It's My Baby Blog today.

The Straight Poop About Cloth Diapers...

2011-06-21T06:30:00.001-05:00

We cloth diaper. It used to be that an announcement like this would not surprise anyone. I like to think that it's going back in that direction. The fact is, there are some stereotypes that are associated with people who cloth diaper, and without naming those stereotypes (which I really think are a) bogus, and b) nothing more than a set of standards that people can use to either categorize themselves or not categorize themselves as "the kind of person who would use cloth diapers" whatever that means.) I will tell you that the Lindstrom family falls into very few of those stereotypes. We are as concerned about our environment as we can comfortably be (that is to say that we don't go to great lengths, but we definitely try not to be wasteful), but really we do the cloth diaper thing more for the cost saving aspect. You may think that it has something to do with the fact that we are raising twins, however, we cloth diapered with our four-year-old too. I like to think that the thousands of dollars we have saved over the years will go toward a trip to Disney someday, but I think that's crazy talk.

It started as an experiment, and turned into something I'm quite passionate about. I am not passionate necessarily about converting disposable diaper users to cloth diaper users, I don't think that's my business. Whatever floats your boat is good for me. I am passionate about educating those who are considering the use of cloth diapers on how very easy it is.

I didn't really do any homework at all when we started cloth diapering. I had opened a Land of Nod catalogue (a catalogue that I love to look at, but rarely think about affording anything out of) and saw that they were listing a kit of Bum Genius diapers (what's funny about this now is that I really didn't realize that there were stores that carried cloth diapers. I thought it was such an uncommon thing that you could only buy from catalogues or websites). I am easily marketed to. The pitch said that they were just as easy as disposables, and that got me thinking. I talked to Mr. Lindstrom (incidentally, I am astounded at how many people are impressed that Mr. Lindstrom is as passionate about cloth diapering as I am. Last I checked, he was there when we made these little poop factories, and he is as concerned with where they do it as I am) and we decided to give it a go. We ordered just three diapers. We thought that would be enough to give us a feel for what it might be like to do it full time. Well, those three diapers turned into 12 in no time, and that was our magic number when we were diapering just one. Many people explore different brands, I'm all for that, but we fell deeply in love with our One Size Bum Genius diapers that go from newborn to potty trained pretty seamlessly. If you are wanting to check out different types, Teeny Greenies is a great resource. They are a free diaper lending service that will allow you to try out a number of different types of cloth diapers to see what you like before you invest.

We are not exclusive cloth diaperers. Which is to say that we use disposables at night, and sometimes when we're on the go. We have a small wet bag that we can bring with us should we be cloth diapering on the go, but sometimes we just get lazy. The point being; you don't have to go whole hog into cloth. You can dabble. It's okay. In fact, there is a whole entire language of cloth diapering that I don't even know. There are dozens of types, flats, prefolds, all in ones, etc. I don't know one from the other, I just know what we use and that it keeps stuff where it needs to be. So, you don't even have to be able to talk the talk with other cloth diaperers to make it work. You'll still get to keep your cloth diapering street cred.

Here's the part you have been waiting for. THIS IS HOW EASY IT IS: Our Bum Genius diapers operate exactly the same as disposables. So, we put them on the kiddo. We are on a pretty strict 2 hour or poop routine (whichever comes first), so when it comes time to change the kid, we change them just like we do with disposables, and then if there is any solid (POOP, for goodness sake) in the diaper, we tip it into the toilet, and flush (because that's the polite thing to do) and then pull the microfiber insert out of the diaper before dumping the diaper and the insert in our wet bag. We do that all day, sometimes for two days, and then we wash the diapers. Yep. You read that right. We wash them all by ourselves. We put them in our washing machine, add detergent (1/4 of what you would use for a normal load), do a cold cycle, a hot cycle, and an extra rinse, and then throw in the dryer. When they are dry, we take about 15 minutes to stuff the diapers with the inserts so they are ready to go the next day. That is it. About once every couple of months, I strip the diapers. This is a technique of rinsing the diapers over and over to get rid of the detergent build up which compromises the absorbency, but beyond that there is very little maintenance.

For us, this beats the notion that when we buy disposables we feel like our children are literally peeing and pooping on our money. If you have any questions, put them in the comments section, I'll answer them in Thursdays post. Like I said, I am mostly passionate about educating people on the ease of using cloth diapers. I think that people write it off frequently because they are concerned about the "work" of it. I want to stress that diapering is just work. Cloth diapering is another load of laundry.

Manic Monday Blogarrhea

2011-06-20T06:30:00.000-05:00

Please, work through this with me... there are four options in a public restroom where the use of sensors enables you to use a device without touching it: The toilet, the soap dispenser, the faucet, and the towel dispenser and/or hand dryer. Are you with me so far? Here's where I get tripped up, for me, a bathroom should have all four components or none at all. I get hygienically confused when I have to go back and forth between touching dirty surfaces and not touching dirty surfaces.

Speaking of hygiene, I have a newfound pet peeve. I make it sound like I collect them. Really, I only have a couple, mouth sounds and the word moist. The other day, Mr. Lindstrom and I were doing some people watching in a place with many food booths, and my new pet peeve was unveiled... when people lick their fingers while they are eating. OH MY WORD. It is just plain disgusting. I have nothing more to say about it. I'm sick just thinking about it.

I think it's funny when people don't match their dogs. There is a super adorable fit girl who walks by my house every morning with her dog. She is petite, strong, and looks like a runner, and her dog is really really tall, has big arthritic looking knobby knees, and looks like it couldn't run if an even bigger dog was chasing it. Every day when I see them walking by, I'm caught off guard at how hilarious it looks and I laugh out loud. For the record, our old dog was a small, fat, wrinkly little thing. We totally matched.

I happen to be of the opinion that leggings do not count as pants. Let's spread the word.

Food For Thought Friday: Mommy Policy

2011-06-17T06:30:00.003-05:00

I know that Father's Day is on the horizon, and I should be doing Daddy-talk here, but this is a pressing issue. I think we need a Mommy Policy on this: Illness.

Here's what I propose: If you are the host of a playdate, and you have had the some-such-itis running through your house, you tell those you have invited into your den of illness, that it has been a den of illness. Let them decide if they want to enter.

If you are a guest at a playdate, and you have some-such-itis running through your house, you think to yourself, "If I had a playdate and a kid showed up with this-typa-itis and potentially infected all the parents and kids in attendance including myself and my own, would I be pleased?" and then you behave accordingly.

We mommies do this bizarre dance around this. Calling each other up and saying, "Hey, so-and-so has such-and-such symptoms and I am wondering if you still want us to come over?" and then mommy-hostess has to do the whole guilt thing, "I don't want to make anyone feel unwelcome, but I don't really want my kid to get sick, but then again I really want to hang out with these folks, but then again if one gets sick everyone gets sick..."

I propose a vote on the above mentioned policy. If you would like to amend it, please do so in the comments. Then, once the policy has been revised according to popular (and logical) vote, I will post the policy, and you can email it to play groups, friends, parents, neighbors, coworkers, aliens, ghosts, fairies, and anyone else you think could benefit from being on the same page. What do you think? Are you in?

While you're noodling on that, why not pop over to It's My Baby Blog and peek at some great father/child pictures, and OF COURSE enter the giveaway that's happening over there for this awesome book:

Food For Thought Fridays is brought to you by Welcome Baby Care, the Premier postpartum doula service in the Twin Cities. Check them out on the web, "like" their facebook page, and follow them on twitter. Spread the word to mommies and daddies-to-be. Welcome Baby Care helps ease the transition into parenthood by caring for the whole family.

A Tribute To The Village People

2011-06-16T06:30:00.004-05:00

In 2001, Mr. Lindstrom and I were just months from becoming Mr. and Mrs. Lindstrom. We decided that it was time to stop throwing our money away renting, and commit to buying a home (I can see you all doing the math here, and yes, we lived in sin. It was good livin', what can I say?). We searched and searched high and low for our perfect "starter home," and we had to kiss a LOT of frogs. When we finally settled on the home we ended up in, there was a lot of fate at play... only when we bought the house, we didn't yet know how much.

We moved in November of 2001, and got to be sort of friendly with the neighbors there. We recognized them, said "hi", went about our daily business, and felt safe and comfortable with those we had living near us. As the years wore on, we got to know each other better and better. There were times we needed a hand with a house project or just needed someone to chat with, we'd call on the neighbors. Occasionally, we'd meet on the front stoop for a cocktail or a chat. On March 21, 2005, we brought home our first baby, Brady. She was just two days old. The following weekend, the neighbors threw Brady a welcome to the neighborhood party complete with a movie projected on the front of one of the neighbor's houses. I know that many people do this regularly, now, but we like to think that we were the first to have done this. We called it "Theater on Third."

On July 5, 2005, our lives screeched to a halt. Brady was found in her crib at daycare, face down and blue. The breath of life would never return to her tiny body. This day, the worst day of our lives, the day we lost our everything, was the day that The Village was born. In those days, the village held us up. They did our grocery shopping, our yard work, they sat near us as we cried, they let us laugh hysterically through tears, they did laundry, they kept us company, they fed us, body, mind, and spirit. As strange as it sounds, in those difficult days, I look back on what The Village did for us wistfully, like you do your first year away from home. Those times with The Village were (all things considered) good times. We were never alone, The Village was ALWAYS there. We instituted Wednesday dinners, we watched Desperate Housewives and Grey's Anatomy together every week, once a month we would have movie nights together, but every night we would spend SOME time together. When one of the Village People got a gazebo in their backyard, that became our home base. We sat around the table there almost every night, chatting about who knows what, playing poker, having a beer or three, and just enjoying the company. We were there for each other, when a villager needed something, the entire Village came to the rescue. The very definition of community.

On Brady's first birthday, the day she did not live to see, Matt and I bristled with anticipation. We decided that we would have a birthday party, and invite friends to spend some time with us while we remembered Brady. I was also 10 weeks pregnant with the (now) four-year-old, and I had planned to share that news. It was a bittersweet day. Matt and I slowly woke up that morning, and when we looked out our front window, the sight was unbelievable. The Village had decorated our entire front yard with 109 butterflies. One butterfly for each day of Brady's short life. They had meticulously decorated butterflies, and hung them strung up between trees. Some were on stakes in the snow drifts in the yard, some were formed from balloons. It was breath-taking and unexpected. Matt and I were so touched, and felt so loved. They wanted us to know how much Brady meant to them, and it worked. There are pictures somewhere, but those were the days before digital cameras, and I can't put my hands on them now. My words do not do it justice, but it was beautiful to see, and twice as beautiful to feel.

When the four-year-old was about six-months, we decided it was time to move. We were looking for a bigger space (ironically, we did not yet know how badly we would need extra space - the twins were not even a thought at that point), and had fallen in love with the house that we now call home. We were excited about the new chapter, but were heartbroken about the fact that we would be leaving this family. Leaving behind this snapshot in time. It was so sad.

On the fifth anniversary of July 5, the date that Brady died. The Village struck again. This time, I have photographic evidence:

They let us know that they still love us, and they are still there for us.

Boy are they ever. I put out an APB on facebook the other day for an emergency fence after the Twinstroms escaped from our temporary fencing system and were running opposite directions toward the street by the time I caught up with both of them. The Village piped up... "We'll be there Thursday to build you a fence." And you know what... The Village always comes through.

Wordless Wednesday: Pizza Party With The Twinstroms

2011-06-15T06:30:00.006-05:00

Now that you've gotten an eyeful of these sweet little hams, check out my love letter to my co-creator (their Daddy) over at It's My Baby Blog!

Mixtape

2011-06-14T06:30:00.000-05:00

The mixtape (a lost art, if you ask me) is the ultimate expression of affection for those of us who grew up with dual tape decks (lucky ducks). The mixtape is a special art. When one makes a mixtape, one puts meticulous care into the rise and fall of tempo from song to song, plots the perfect length of silence between each tune, and never forgets that the lyrics of each song behave as a dedication to the recipient of the tape. The mixtape comes in especially handy for the unrequited love, a way of writing a love letter without the commitment, "Oh, I just thought you'd like these songs," you could casually say as you handed the one you'd been daydreaming about your special creation designed specifically with them in mind. A mixtape is personal. A mixtape is original. A mixtape is short hand for love. When I fall in love with a person, place, or thing, I want to express to people how much I love it by sharing my intention to make it a mixtape. So, with no further ado, here are a few things I would like to make a mixtape for:

1. My Keurig (because I LOVE coffee. Coffee is my mistress and deserves the ultimate mixtape),

but most of all this accessory that allows me to make one cup at a time with my very own coffee grounds.

(Of course, I still have a little stash of K-Cups for when I'm feeling like switching it up...)

2. Target, duh. But more specifically, the Target Red Card debit card that gives me 5% off each purchase.

3. Southwest Airlines. Mr. Lindstrom and I recently took our first (and likely last) trip without the kids overnight to Chicago. We had gotten an amazing deal on our tickets ($39 each way - I felt like we were stealing them). Southwest Airlines has air travel figured out. You board in "groups" rather than by seat assignment, and once you are on the plane, you pick your seat. The flight attendants are so upbeat and hysterical, you forget to be nervous -- like this guy:

Also, they don't wheel those crazy carts up and down the aisle when they are doing beverage service. They come and take your order, and then bring you your requested beverage. They also give you free snacks. FREE! Oh, and we didn't get to take advantage of this service, but they do not charge you for checked bags. I would actually give them a kiss along with the mixtape.

4. Hendrick's Gin and Tonic with a cucumber. My friend Anna introduced me to this cocktail, and I'll never be the same. It's a really special treat every once in a while on an extremely hot day (after the children have gone to bed, of course). I think it bears noting that I am not really a gin kinda girl, and I LOVE this refreshing drink.

5. This video. It's darling on every level:

Food For Thought Friday: Music Makes the World Go 'Round

2011-06-10T06:16:00.000-05:00

Here's a cute story about a mom who was never going to "let" her child listen to any of that "kid" music. You know the stuff voiced by someone doing a cartoon character or something, and playing nothing that resembles a hard rockin' guitar. This mom said, "to appreciate good music, and child must listen to good music." Which meant that the child would listen to whatever music the mom wanted to listen to given her mood. This was mostly Tom Jones, which some may consider abuse, but those people just have not yet been enlightened. Did I mention that this mom was me?

Do I need to tell you the pain and suffering that I endured when somehow the vocal stylings of a big red monster whose most popular song is all about the song that he wrote, and is cleverly titled, "Elmo's Song," won out over the superior vocals of my boyfriend Bono backed up by the shredding guitar of the Edge? Surely something has gone wrong.

To be fair, my kids all enjoy equal parts Elmo and U2. They can groove to the Laurie Berkner band just as easily as they can jam to They Might Be Giants. There is some really cool "kid" music out there. However, what really matters is that they are exposed to music at all. Music has been proven to do all kinds of cool things from a very very young age, and while I was not one of those moms who pumped Mozart through headphones attached to my generous pregnant waist whilst I grew and nurtured life, I was definitely was one of those moms who would turn my car stereo to 11 in the event that my kids could make out my favorite song (and would tell myself that indeed that kicking and shoving I felt was their own person First Avenue style in-utero mosh pit).

Now, we have a tradition of Lindstrom Family dance parties. The only rule is groove to the music, however you are moved to. It works. Sometimes we're grooving to the Imagination Movers (whom, by the way, fall squarely into my cool kids music category), and sometimes the grooving is a little more to the Sam Cooke end, but either way, my children are being exposed to music, learning their own musical preferences, and gaining all the benefits to listening to music can lend.

What kind of music do your kids get down to?

Want to know more about how children respond to and learn from music? Check out It's My Baby Blog today for some tips!

In My Shoes

2011-06-09T07:02:00.004-05:00

Yesterday was my ninth wedding anniversary. Mr. Lindstrom and I celebrated in grand style, like we always do. We have packed a lot of joy and sorrow into these nine years, and I can honestly tell you, the ride with him has been completely worth it. In other words, I wouldn't have wanted to have that kind of joy and pain with anyone but him. We are really great partners.

Each year, it has been my tradition to wear the shoes I wore on my wedding day on our anniversary. I love those shoes. They make me feel like Cinderella. I remember walking through the Nordstrom shoe department and practically squealing when I saw them on the shelf. I KNEW they were the shoes I wanted to get married in. On the first happiest day of my life (remember, this was before I had children) those shoes carried wobbly legs down a long aisle to join my life with my husband's. Those shoes held me steady through my vows, and propped me up tall enough to share a kiss with my Prince Charming. Those shoes walked me out the back of the church and into "Roxanne" the car that my husband drove throughout our courtship, and in those shoes, I danced that very special night away. I love the way those shoes look, but mostly I love the story those shoes can tell. Now, five pregnancies later, those size 7 shoes no longer can comfortably accommodate these size 8.5 feet. Still, each year, they come down from the shelf in the closet, and for only a second, like Cinderella, I try them on, just in case they magically fit. They don't, and I am sad.

But that doesn't mean I don't get my happily ever after. Because my marriage isn't in those shoes that don't fit. My life isn't in those shoes that don't fit. Even though I was sure that I could wear those shoes each and every June 8, from now until eternity, what those shoes mean to me is in my bones, in my heart, in my soul, and in my memory. Just as I have grown out of those shoes, I have grown into my life. This comfy, crazy, chaotic, cozy life. Not too shabby. Those shoes don't mean nearly as much as the girl who wore them growing into a woman... and you know - these "shoes" fit just fine.

Wordless Wednesday: This Makes It All Worthwhile

2011-06-08T06:15:00.002-05:00

This is my present-day, but there was a day when I (like most women who find out they are expecting multiples) that I was terrified of what the future would hold. Today, I posted over at Welcome Baby Care's It's My Baby Blog about what I tell mothers-to-be of multiples.

My Happy Place

2011-06-07T13:41:00.001-05:00

If you know me, you know that the four-year-old, since he was not four, has called Target "Mommy's Happy Place." It is mostly true. I love me some Target. Even more when I can wander the aisles aimlessly picking up things I don't need, strolling around more, and then putting those things I really don't need back where I found them. If left at Target unattended and without responsibility, I could do this for hours. I am aware of how pathetic that is.

The truth is, I have another happy place. The place I go in my mind when I need a little break. Let me give you a small tour. It is a white house, on a white sandy beach. It has a large white living room, with a white carpet, and white overstuffed chair. There is a white fan overhead, and the white window shears blow in the breeze. There I sit, in my white clothes (which miraculously show not a bit of my cellulite), drinking white wine, and reading from my cute white Kindle. Do you sense a theme here? Yes, everything is white and clean. Nary a crumb will fall, nor drop be dripped on my white anything, because I am an adult, and have the ability to hold my cup upright, and chew with my mouth closed. In my little white beach house, nobody calls me anything, because nobody is there needing anything from me.

But damnit if they don't figure out how to find me anyway...

Manic Monday Blogarrhea

2011-06-06T06:30:00.009-05:00

My mom's most embarrassing moment is funnier than my own most embarrassing moment (which, when asked to share, I can never retrieve very fast), so I always borrow hers during that particular ice breaker. She starts the story like this, "you know when you see a dog in a car in a parking lot and you bark at it?" Which always makes me laugh, because no, I don't know. I have never done that and I have never seen anyone else do it. She says it like it's a normal thing to do, like we all walk around barking at dogs in cars. As the story goes, she approached a dog in a car with an open window, and barked at the dog, when the dog turned around, it was a woman. The rest of the story is pretty funny, but the beginning is always my favorite part. Which is why I was stunned with myself the other day in the Target parking lot when I saw a dog in a car, and I BARKED AT IT. Am I feeling okay?

...and sadly, that's all the blogarrhea I can muster today.

Food For Thought Friday: Live Like You're LIVING!

2011-06-03T06:37:00.000-05:00

It's been a heckuva couple of weeks at the Lindstrom home. Mr. Lindstrom has been working around the clock (putting in about 25 more hours a week than he usually does), and we've been adjusting to a few other household changes. With even the most subtle shifts, I've felt the change like waves crashing, each wave bigger and bigger. As a mother, you can't quite throw your hands up. You can't say "uncle." You can't walk off the job. Giving into the flight instinct is not an option.

While the waves are crashing, I still have responsibilities beyond the parenting and household management, I freelance about 20 hours a week from home, I blog, I have three radio shows, and have even committed in the past couple of weeks to doing some fill-in work at the radio station. Last night we were watching the Karate Kid, there's a part where Mr. Miyagi throws Daniel into the ocean, into the waves, to teach him "balance." Never have I felt more akin to Ralph Macchio. I have been feeling worn down and WAY off kilter trying to figure out the trick to balance in the waves of real life. * I am not unique here, folks. I am not the first nor the last mother to have felt like this. I am not complaining, merely giving you a snapshot to relate to.

It is no coincidence that I found this article outlining the top five regrets people have on their death bed. No, I'm not dying. I mean, of course I will die, someday, but I'm not going for the morbid here. I have never been a proponent of "living each day like it were your last." I get the idea of it, but I'm not a fan of focusing so strongly on "the end." Instead, I champion living like you're ALIVE!!!!! Remembering the amazing gift you've been given, and LIVING it! I have regrets in life, and I am not a fan of them, so this list got me thinking about how to not have more of them. Here are the top 5:

1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

2. I wish I didn’t work so hard.

3. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.

4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

When I read this, I was near tears at the start of my day. I try to take about 20 minutes to myself in the beginning of the day before everyone's awake. It's my quiet time, the time that I center myself for a day filled with people who need only me, and RIGHT NOW. I was worn down, and dreading the day, while number five stood there staring me in the eye, daring me to smile rather than cry at the stress I was feeling. I took a look at all that was around me, a house that (while rather messy) I LOVE, a family that I was desperate for, a husband who is working hard around the clock for our family (and at this particular time, in service of people who have experienced real devastation), all the knick knacks and paddy whacks a girl could ever want, and best of all... I AM ALIVE! In short, I have what many wish for. Yes, it is stressful at times, and sure, I have lost a lot of my personal freedom and I miss it sometimes, but I'm ALIVE. Tickin' away here, thinking thoughts, feeling feelings, living a LIFE. How awesome! That's a lot to celebrate. Instead of feeling like I'm drowning in the waves, what if I am a coal under pressure? I'm going to be a diamond and shine brighter. That's cool!

How are you doing today? Are you living like you're LIVING? When you peek at those top five regrets, what pops out at you? How could you shift your perspective today, so that you feel truly ALIVE?

** Yesterday we started a blog hop courtesy of my friends at Welcome Baby Care's It's My Baby Blog. We're sharing our best summer memories. It's still going on, and we'd love for you to hop around and share your own summer memories, either by commenting or linking up your own blog! Happy hopping!

Favorite Summer Memory: A Blog Hop!

2011-06-01T06:30:00.043-05:00

This is a blog hop dreamed up by my friends at Welcome Baby Care's It's My Baby Blog. Get cozy, wax a little nostalgic, hop around to some other blogs that are linked up, share your own memories in the comments, or even better, if you have a blog - LINK UP! Have fun!

How do you pick your favorite summer memory? As I'm thumbing through my personal memory files, it seems like almost every good memory of my life comes from the summer. I went to camps, took swimming lessons, tried new sports, wore out the slip and slide, and generally took part in the leisure of the season, and those are all such great memories. The greatest memory I have, though, is of a family vacation.

This is bittersweet, because I have an older brother with whom I do not keep in good touch (or any touch at all) and I am estranged from my father. My mother and I have always been very very close, and in my heart SHE is my family. However, this memory of a family vacation has grown so romantic in my memory, perhaps because I remember it being happy. It's hard to write about memories, when you are a person who doesn't have a lot of them... but here goes:

One summer, for probably two weeks, we rented an RV and drove from our house in Minneapolis to St. Louis, Missouri to visit family friends. Along the way, we stayed in campgrounds and toured historic areas, but what really sticks out in my very foggy memory, is the togetherness that time on the road lends coupled with the turtle-like novelty of bringing your home on the road with you. In an RV there is room to move, and you can even go to the bathroom without stopping! This is particularly delightful, because it eliminates so many family arguments about when and where to stop. We cooked on the road, we ate on the road, we sang songs, we napped, we did what we wanted until we settled in for the evening at our "campsite" and got to know the local flavor of our home for the evening.

Maybe at heart, I've always been a bit of a vagabond with a fondness for a home base, and this was the perfect way for me to explore. My brother and I would quickly settle in and make friends with just about anyone and everyone for the evening, we'd exchange addresses, promising to write, and then hop back in the Winnebago to meet our next adventure. I loved the freedom of it. So much that it created in me this bizarre dream to retire in a big ol' RV and just roam the country. So far, Mr. Lindstrom is not on board, but there's still time. And darn it if I don't have plans to recreate this experience with my own children as soon as we're able.

I have often wondered if this was the favorite family summer memory for the rest of my family, but have never asked, for fear that they will remind me that it may not have been so spectacular as it lives in my memory. That would be certain tragedy.

Food For Thought Friday: The Lindstroms and the Swaddle: A Love Story

2011-05-26T06:30:00.005-05:00

Here’s a story, of a girl named Brady… my firstborn, to be exact. Who, like most babies, was sprinkled on the way out of the hospital with the dust that makes nighttime sleep a myth. Before we left the hospital, the nice nurses taught us this lovely method of wrapping her up like a little burrito, approximately the size of those they serve at Chipotle. We had also learned that method in our baby birthin’ classes. I was confident that if given a blanket, I could wrap a baby. Only, nobody had explained to me why. They said things like, “this will calm her down” or “this will keep her warm,” but I thought there were so many other things that would keep her warm or calm her down, and while baby wrapping seemed to be a neat party trick, I wasn’t sure when or why it was important to use it.

Fast forward to about a week after we’d arrived home, and approximately that long since we (and she) had last slept. I was at my wits end. In fact, I was beyond my wits end. I was writing postcards to my wits end telling it how much I missed it. I called my mother in a full-blown panic, “MOM, SHE WON’T SLEEP! WHY WON’T SHE SLEEP? FIX THIS!” My mother, who is accustomed to this type of alarm from her youngest (and most dramatic) child, went immediately to the nearest bookstore and raided the baby sleep section. I don’t know if that section exists, but it should. It should exist for this exact type of situation. She dropped the books off for me and they sat on my coffee table staring me down. I knew the answer to how this baby was going to sleep was hiding somewhere in those pages, but I was tired. I called my husband who was on his way home from work, and gave him his assignment: “Read these books for me, and tell me what to do… I am going to try to sleep right now, because the baby looks groggy.” While I logged about 45 minutes of fitful rest, Mr. Lindstrom skimmed each book looking for what was going to work for us. When I opened my eyes, he shook a book at me, The Happiest Baby on the Block by Dr. Harvey Karp. “Colleen, we need to swaddle her. Not just that, there are four other things that start with S that we need to do, too!” I swear to you, if he had told me that we needed to hang her from a crane by her toenails, I would have called the first 24-hour crane rental service I could find in the Yellow Pages. Suddenly, swaddling and these other S words sounded much better than the one S word I was saying.

And thus the love affair began that very evening with our first successful swaddle. A good sleeper was born. And since, we have produced many good sleepers, all thanks to Dr. Harvey Karp. In order to get the true essence of swaddling and the five S technique, you really must read the book. I also recommend reading the book because it gives you very important guidelines for swaddling safety. Adhere to them. Take them seriously. Swaddling is a wonderful tool in helping your child adjust to life outside the womb, but just knowing that is not enough, you must learn about it to be sure that you are using it properly. I am so passionate about the swaddle, that my gift to new moms in my life (sorry to blow the surprise) is a swaddle blanket, and swaddler (I prefer the Summer Infant Swaddle Me brand, which I layer on top of a swaddle blanket for security), and a copy of the Happiest Baby on the Block. Without fail, every mom gets this from me, along with a handwritten note promising that I will school them in the ways of the swaddle. Each and every hour of sleep I have logged since 2005 is credit directly to Dr. Harvey Karp.

See, the Twinstroms in a restful sleep while swaddled exactly one week old. I probably should have been sleeping, myself, but instead I was taking pictures. (Another of the 5 Ss is "sucking," which you can see, they are doing blissfully on their pacifiers.)

Here’s the greatest news for you today, you can enter win a Swaddle Blanket for your own baby or a baby in your life just by heading over to It’s My Baby Blog and following the directions. It’s easy, I promise, and goodness knows, the gift of sleep is priceless! Good luck!

Food For Thought Friday: Time To Get Over It...

2011-05-20T06:30:00.004-05:00

I'm going to get out the soap box. Luckily it's not very dusty...

As of May 16, the City of Forest Park, GA has banned public breastfeeding of children over the age of two. I don't even care what your opinions are about how long a child "should" be breastfed, here is what you should be angry about (if I may be so bold as to point out what should be upsetting to you): This law was passed as a stand against public nudity. By that rationale, the age of the child should not matter. It's only the first step toward taking away the right of a child to be fed in public. We should be outraged.

What is wrong with our culture? Why are we STILL not able to separate nudity from the job of a breast. Not to mention the fact that we really contradict ourselves when we say that breast is best (it's actually a public health issue), and then say, "but not in public..."

When I get hungry, I eat in public. I eat off a fork usually. Sure there are other options, I could use a spoon, or even a spork, but really, forks are best for the types of meals I eat. I don't know if it 'offends' anyone but I really don't care, because when I'm hungry, I eat. With a fork.

When a baby is hungry, they need to eat, even in public. They may take their food from a breast. Sure there are other options, but for the type of meals they eat, breast is the best. It may 'offend' people, but I really don't care. Why should a baby not be afforded the same rights I have when I am hungry in public? The right to eat.

Can we please be done with this, now? Can we please just let babies eat and realize that it isn't about nudity, it is about a baby getting their basic needs met. This is about adults being uncomfortable and unable to act like... say... adults, and taking rights away from children.

Soapbox being put back in soapbox closet, now.

Food For Thought Friday is brought to you by the amazing folks at Welcome Baby Care. They are THE postpartum and newborn experts. Check out their website, and don’t forget to “like” them on Facebook to take advantage of all their knowledge. Also, be sure to follow babycaretweets on Twitter to receive news and ideas on newborn care and thoughts about parenting!

Failure

2011-05-19T06:30:00.004-05:00

About three years ago, our dear friends had their first baby. A group of our friends, most with children already, had gathered together, and were laughing about the adjustment that the new baby brings. The new father was visibly uncomfortable as we revealed things he would encounter down the road with their new bundle of joy. Cutting through a room full of uproarious laughter, my good friend said of our uncomfortable new dad friend, "Oh, let's stop teasing him, he's just trying to keep the baby alive." (Cue record scratch sound effect.) Suddenly all the eyes in the room were on Mr. Lindstrom and me.

When something painful and unexpected like this happens in my life, my emotions are almost exactly like a dyke breaking. All the pain I've been dealing with, slowly but surely, and in manageable chunks comes bursting through in unmanageable ways. I know my friend meant no harm to me. I know that the moment those words parted from his lips, he wished he could grab them back. That moment is in the top five defining moments of my life. It was the very first time, two years after the death of my firstborn, that I felt guilt and failure. It truly was the first time I realized that the world's first expectation of a parent is that they will keep their children alive. I failed.

I frequently hear other people laughing about this Rosanne Barr quote, "If they’re all alive at the end of the day, then I’ve done my job." It's been touted as one of the best takes on motherhood. Ouch. That's my only response. Because I have had to go to bed at night with the knowing that they weren't all alive. I have failed. I have not done my job.

I feel like the world sees it as my personal failure that I dropped my first child off at daycare, and picked up a dead body. It is my personal failure that I had a pregnancy that was so full of complications that my child was literally incompatible with life. I miss my girls, and I miss my life (in some ways) before I knew this brand of pain. Sure, there have been abundant gifts. Among many things, I would not have the children I have had my first two girls lived. These children I have here today are here because my girls aren't. There is never a moment that I am not trying to reconcile that in my heart. But I feel guilty. I feel like the ink is all over my mom hands. I didn't keep my children alive. I failed at the very most basic requirement of parenting. Then, knowing that, I went on to procreate again and again without insurance that I wouldn't fail again... that is guilt.

Here's what I want you to know: It probably seems like losing a child is the most horrible thing that could possibly happen. It is... almost. Here is what would actually be worse; if that child left this world without feeling fully loved beyond what the heart can possibly hold.

So, my babies died. I could not keep them alive. I failed.

But, they left this world having never known anything but pure love and joy.

I am going to go ahead and chalk that up as a success.

Wordless Wednesday: This Is Four-Year-Old For Love

2011-05-18T06:30:00.004-05:00

When you're done oohing and aahhing over this beautiful arrangement, head on over to It's My Baby Blog to read my post about going back to school as a mom.

Manic Monday Blogarrhea - The Marketing Edition

2011-05-16T06:30:00.015-05:00

I am of the opinion (and I'm not naming any names...) that if you are a retailer that is moving to sell items to women and hopefully make them feel beautiful rather than like, say, a cow or some other such animal, you may want to avoid using the word "barn" in the name of your store.

To that end, stores that cater to mothers and fathers who are advertising their sales, may want to refrain from using the word "blowout" in their declaration of great savings. To a parent, specifically of babies, "blowout" has a totally different meaning and it does not conjure up a feeling of excitement.

There is an actual restaurant called Pink Taco. I don't want to eat at Pink Taco. If I have to explain why that is to you, then you are a classy person. That is all you need to know.

Can anyone help me figure out what this ad is for? Let me fill in the blanks: It was found in the ladies room on a stall door. The text says, "Deer Run Golf Club. Enjoy the cruise." No website, no phone number, nothing. I don't get it. What am I missing? What is Deer Run Golf Club? What is this cruise I am supposed to enjoy? Is there a number I should call? A website? What???

Food For Thought Friday: More of a "Reminder"...

2011-05-15T21:56:00.000-05:00

I try to keep it all together. Really, I do. I try to be the kind of mom that is two steps ahead of everything and can take those two steps ahead while continuing to spin all my plates. That is always my intention. Sometimes, though, I meet failure in a dark alley, and failure has it's way with me. It's never pretty, but I always learn from it.

The four-year-old, before he was four, before he was in a traditional preschool, went to a nursery school program, almost like a pre-preschool at our church. He started going a couple of days a week for a couple of hours a day when he was 9 months old. This is where he learned his alphabet (mostly), how to count (mostly), how to go potty (pretty much totally), and most importantly, how to interact and cooperate with kids his own age.

That first year, on the last day of "school" (we have always called it "school"), I watched all of my fellow parents come in carrying gifts and thank you notes. Guess who was empty handed. Yup. I was embarrassed and horrified at myself. I mean, I read Dear Abby, I read Dear Prudence, I LOVE etiquette. I apparently just don't have any. Ugh. I felt like I had a tattoo on my forehead that said "ROOKIE MOM." You can bet I wasn't going to do that again. In fact, I was going to start stockpiling gifts like a squirrel preparing for a long winter (like the one we are just now emerging from). I was going to bring gifts to school every day - just to be prepared. Okay, that's a stretch, but I made special note on my calendar of the important gift giving occasions for teachers and even added a reminder for the prior week, so that on my Target rounds, I could make sure I had all the necessary wrappings and accessories. Phew. I was going to totally OWN the teacher gift thing!

Fast forward to now, I don't take it quite so seriously, but the sting of that day and the embarrassment I felt are still present. Teachers are such amazing people. They give so much from their heart, and they shape and change our kids. The growth I have seen in my own children from those few hours a week they spend with their teachers and classmates is amazing, and I want to appreciate it. I want to show my gratitude. Of course I love my kids, but I so appreciate the fact that THEY love my kids, too. So, a gift is such a small and easy way to say thank you.

After polling teachers, I have found that teachers really appreciate the gift certificate. Specifically to a place like Target or Barnes and Noble. A place where they may decide whether they want to buy something for themselves, or for the classroom. I have found myself at the Caribou drive thru thinking, "maybe I'll just pick up a card for the teacher," and then I panic because, "what if they don't drink coffee. Or what if everyone in the class gets them coffee certificates. I mean, how much coffee can one person drink?" (Note: I think I could probably shock you with my personal answer to the "how much coffee" question.)

So, as the school year draws to a close, remember your teachers. They are doing beautiful work with our children, and they deserve our thanks! (Mostly I blog this for that embarrassed "rookie mom" that I was so many years ago.)

Now, head on over to It's My Baby Blog for some ideas of fun ways to gift your kid's teachers.

Is "Housewife" In This Job Description?

2011-05-12T06:30:00.003-05:00

The other day, while conducting my morning routine of drinking copious amounts of coffee and spelunking the internets before the children stir (this is a routine that I have yet to shake since my days doing a daily radio show), I happened upon this article written by Jessica Anya Blau. The Cliff's Notes: In her novel "Drinking Closer to Home," Blau introduced a fictionalized character inspired by her own mom. Her own mom, when Blau and her siblings were 11, 8, and 3, announced that she "quit." She went on to teach her children to do the daily chores of the house, including (but not limited to) learning how to use their own alarm clocks to wake themselves in the morning, and doing their own laundry. She continued to be their mother, but ceased in being their maid. When the author read reviews of her book, she saw this character touted as "abusive" and the children were referred to as "survivors." Blau goes on to describe in this article that her mother could not have been less abusive. She defends her mother by saying that her mother was an excellent parent (giving love and support) even though she did not pack lunches for her kids or hem their pants. (To truly get the gist - you'll want to read the article, my retelling it loses so much of the essence.) My impression as a reader, was that the author's mother was not quitting being a mom, she was quitting being a "housewife." She was fed up with carrying the brunt of the "work" of the family, and she wanted to delegate some of that work so she could enjoy the mommy ride a little more and give her children the gift of responsibility.

As I read through this article, I thought, "what an awesome mom! I want to be just like her!" (Maybe minus the dramatic, "I quit" moment, but definitely PLUS the part about making the kids responsible for housework and getting themselves together, and making time to be a family.) Then, I made the mistake of reading the comments. People who had just read the exact same article that I had (you know, the one that was describing the type of mother I want to be) had such a poisoned reaction. Calling the mother of the author "lazy" and "irresponsible." For only a moment, I second guessed myself. Is refusing to be the housekeeper for your kids and expecting that they care for the space that they live in "lazy" or "irresponsible" on the part of the mother?

Just over a week ago, I had tweeted something like, "How do moms clean? Every time I DO something, I have three little "un-do-ers" undoing." A friend tweeted back, "I always said I'd be a terrible stay at home mom, my house would be a disaster, but my kids would be happy." I was immediately sick to my stomach. I frequently make apologies to people about the mess in my house, but I do have extremely happy kids, am I a bad mom? Is this what our culture expects of mothers? That our job description is to keep an impeccable house and raise happy, well-behaved, intelligent kids? Is it the 1950's? I'm all for the happy and well-behaved kids, but the impeccable house thing falling solely on the shoulders of the mother... that could drive (and probably has driven) a mommy (or two) to madness. I know it would me. Listen, I'm not saying that it's not possible to have both. I am not saying that if you are a person who can make it all work, and your kids aren't suffering for it, and you're enjoying your relationship with your children and your role as their mother that it's not perfectly fine or that you are not a good mother. I am not saying that a clean house is an indicator of a good OR a bad mom, I am saying that our priorities are screwy if we allow a judgement on cleanliness or tidiness or willingness to delegate in terms of the aforementioned to be a blanket judgement on someone's mothering.

My house, while not entirely a disaster, is never all the way clean unless we're hosting a holiday, and when it IS all the way clean, you better damn betcha that everyone who lives here has chipped in to do their part (some people's "parts" around here are smaller than others due to age and size). There is usually some form of mess in each room. While I may complain about it, I am not willing to change it at the expense of the quality time I spend with my kids. The mess bothers me, but not enough to drive me to change my personal routine within my family and the time I devote to being engaged with my kids. For me, it is important for my children to remember the love between us, and not how tidy the family room is. We do not live in layers of filth, but a mess, heck yes. My kitchen floor is not always clean, and I would rarely pass the white glove test, but if we do a 10 minute once over and tidy up, our house is passable for guests. But, I signed up to be a mother, not a housewife. Beyond that, if teaching your appropriately aged children to be partners in the keeping of the house is considered abusive or lazy, then so be it. If requesting that the people with whom you share space to take care of that space and themselves within it makes me a bad mom, then I'll have to be comfortable with that. In my opinion, if I make it my business to do it all, I will both become burned out, and I'll end up raising children with no sense of responsibility. Neither of which entices me in the least.

So, while my house can feel like a land of chaos, my children are brought to and from their activities promptly, they make all their doctors appointments, their boo-boos are kissed, and if hugs and snuggles could create world peace, we'd have it ten times over. They are read to, bathed regularly, they are kept warm in the winter, and cool in the summer. They have a roof over their heads, they are fed 3 square meals per day and snacks, and they wear clean clothing (unless they get it dirty mid-wear, in which case, they are fortunate enough to have a choice of clothing into which they may change). We spend time as a family, our children socialize with other children, and we value our faith together. We laugh a lot, we cry sometimes, we are boisterous sometimes, and quiet others. Through positive reinforcement and discipline we show right from wrong, and sometimes my children really have to exercise their patience while I take care of some business, do a little (yes, I do enough to maintain) housework, or take care of one of their sibling's needs. Even in challenging times, we have a lot. We have a whole lot. We may not have the cleanest house, but I'm willing to let that go - and also let go of the expectation that that is solely MY job as the mother to keep the house. We have a LOT. If I'm failing somewhere in my role as mother, it is NOT in the area of lovingly nurturing my children, and at the end of the day, if you ask me, that is the most important role of the mother.

My mother-in-law shared this part of a poem with me once, and I love it so much. I think of it often when I am having a moment of mom-guilt with the chaotic mess. It provides me the perspective and personal forgiveness I need:

The cleaning and scrubbing

will wait till tomorrow,

for Children grow up,

as I've learned to my sorrow.

So quiet down, cobwebs.

Dust go to sleep.

I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

~Author Unknown

Where are you on the idea that a mother who expects her children to participate in the housework and meeting their personal needs is "lazy" or "abusive"? I welcome respectful and thoughtful comments, if you have one, please leave it.

Wordless Wednesday: So, I'll just get in the SUV line, then?

2011-05-11T06:30:00.007-05:00

Please head over to It's My Baby Blog to read my post there today on names.

As Seen On TV

2011-05-10T06:30:00.089-05:00

Apparently I am easily marketed to. I recently took a mental inventory of everything I've bought as seen on TV:

Pajama Jeans
The Snuggie
The Magic Bullet
The Vidalia Chop Wizard
The Shake Weight (for some reason this is the first thing on this list that I'm really embarrassed about.)
Shoes Under
Giant Tomato Tree
Topsy Turvy (For the record, this was a failed experiment last summer.)
Heeltastic
Moving Men
Pillow Pet

...and this is just what I can think of off the top of my head. I chalk it up to the fact that for the past few years of parenting, I've spent countless hours in the middle of the night watching infomercials and convincing myself that I need these things to get by in life. Sometimes I am baffled at the notion that I got through without even one copy of Girls Gone Wild. The one thing I cannot believe I haven't fallen for (yet) is this: It's called Hook Line and Stinker. It is literally a fishing game that you play... wait for it... on the potty. Yup. Classy.

As a follow up to that... this is not something I've seen on TV, but rather was told about by my great friend Liv Lane from Choosing Beauty. She is offering an e-course on How To Build a Blog You Truly Love, and if anyone knows about building a blog you love, it's Liv. She has spent the past few years becoming a true guru in the blogosphere, and is ready to share what she has learned. If you have a blog, want a blog, have thought about starting a blog, or are just starting a blog and need an extra push, you'll want to take part in this awesome e-course. Here's the best part... ready? Through tomorrow (Wednesday 5/11) you can sign up for this e-course for an early bird special of 20% off the registration price. This 6 week course starts June 5 and if I know Liv (and believe me, I do) it's going to rock your face off. I'll be having my face rocked off, too. So, join me in learning all about building a blog you truly love!

Manic Monday Blogarrhea

2011-05-09T06:30:00.015-05:00

A few weeks ago, I watched a documentary about the sewer system in New York City. This is the kind of thing that fascinates me. Here's the bare bones, all the waste goes to a plant which separates the solids from the liquid. The liquid is washed away, but the gas from the solids powers the entire plant. That's amazing. Is there any reason why I can't power my house that way???

I love Chipotle, but it really challenges my portion control.

On Friday I saw a show on TLC called "Make Room For Multiples." The episode I saw featured a family who had twin boys who were four-years-old, and found out that they were expecting twin girls. Whoa. Then, when the girls were born, one was 6 lb and some change, and the other was 7 lb and some change. This woman is my new hero.

I think one of the worst smells in the world is when you're walking outside in real nature, and someone on the curb opens their car door and out wafts the smell of one of those pine tree car air fresheners. When fake nature smells get all mixed up with real nature smells. That's the worst smell in the world.

In 2005, a storefront opened up in the Mall Of America called MinneNAPolis. A simple concept, rooms where people can nap. It was equal parts brilliant and ridiculous. It didn't last long as I recall, but I kind of thought the name was good, and it's a total shame that I have no reason to say it anymore. In that vein, I was thinking of some other ideas of stores that could be incorporated into the name of my city. Like, a grocery store that only sells snack food, MinneSNACKolis. Or, a store that sells little trinkets, MinneCRAPolis. Or my personal favorite, a gynecologist's office called MinnePAPolis. I could go on for days, but I'll put you out of your misery by just stopping.

Food For Thought Friday: It's a Mother of a Day...

2011-05-06T06:30:00.004-05:00

I know it's a Hallmark holiday. I know that it was created to sell sell sell, and we are programmed to buy, buy, buy. I know that we should not need a day dictated to tell us to appreciate our mothers, but as a mother, it feels darn good to be honored on Mother's Day. It feels really nice to open up a card that says everything you always wished your family was thinking about you and all you do, but they never put into such poetic words. It feels really nice to be waited on hand and foot and have an excuse to do or not do whatever you want. For someone who is accustomed to putting the needs of many before her own, it is nice to have a day to be honored for that. It's different from a birthday, because on this day, it's all about your role not just as a human, but as a MOTHER. The most important job you do.

It's nice to open a handmade gift from your child that they made at school, whatever the modern day clay ashtray is these days (at our house it was a jewelry box made from an Altoid tin painted gold and adorned with colorful gems and shells. It is divine.) It's nice to be celebrated by not just your family, but by an entire culture that values the role of mothering (and a card company that thinks it makes a really great holiday).

But, Mother's Day really provides an amazing opportunity for this: Opening yourself as a mother up to all the love that is coming your way, and getting in on the fun. Not just feeling loved by others, but loving yourself for the amazing work that you do each and every day even when nobody is showering you with flowery cards and little trinkets. Wrapping your arms around yourself and giving yourself a big ol' bear hug, and thanking yourself for doing what mom's do so well, which is... well, really... everything.

So, how are you going to celebrate yourself as a mom this Sunday? I want to know!

Food For Thought Friday is brought to you by the amazing folks at Welcome Baby Care. They are THE postpartum and newborn experts. Check out their website, and don’t forget to “like” them on Facebook to take advantage of all their knowledge. Also, be sure to follow babycaretweets on Twitter to receive news and ideas on newborn care and thoughts about parenting!

Wordless Wednesday: Men LOVE to Watch Their Stream!

2011-05-04T06:30:00.006-05:00

Hooray For Damages and Flaws!!!

2011-05-03T07:04:00.000-05:00

There is an outlet shop in the suburbs of Minneapolis that sells high end brand name items that have small flaws or damages. On most of the items, you can't even see the damages or flaws, but you get them at a ridiculously affordable price. My friends who shop there swear by it. They LOVE the steals and deals they get at this outlet store. I hardly ever shop there, myself, but I drive by there almost once a week, and my favorite thing about this store is a sign they have on their window so small you could miss it if you didn't look. It says, "hooray for damages and flaws!"

I am deeply in love with this sign. So much so that I want to replicate it and hang it in my home. Perhaps in every room (a little overboard?). Here's why I love it so much. The worst thing you could ever say to me is that I think I'm perfect (one time a woman said that to me, trying to hurt my feelings. It worked). I am SO not, and I am SO glad! I have spent the better part of my 33 years here trying to get good with my damages and flaws. Here's the important distinction: I have been trying to accept my OWN damages and flaws, not get others to accept my damages and flaws (when I have gone the direction of trying to get others to accept them, it's always backfired). In many ways, those damages and flaws are exactly what make us each unique.

So, while I don't want to be sold at an outlet store, I would LOVE to write all over my personal windows (and big enough for everyone to see), "Hooray for my damages and flaws!" Without them, I'd be pretty darn boring. Psssssst, you would be too.

Manic Monday Blogarrhea

2011-05-02T06:00:00.031-05:00

The movie Cars has ruined me. If I haven't had enough coffee, and I'm punchy enough, I will look at the cars on the road and find myself wondering what they are thinking, and what their voices sound like.

I don't know if this is normal, but in my mind I'm a lot younger than my chronological age. I know it's rude to ask other people their age, so I have a trick. First of all, I will tell you my age, I am 33. I was born in 1977. When I was a young Sesame Street watcher, I remember when Snuffleupagus was known to the other inhabitants of Sesame Street to be Big Bird's imaginary friend. Shortly after my prime viewing days, everyone had the opportunity to meet Snuffy (in 1985), and see that he was indeed real. So, I'll ask people, "do you remember when only Big Bird knew about Snuffleupagus?" And if they look at me like I'm crazy (a look I am quite familiar with), I'll know that they are younger than 30. Really, the only reason age is at all relevant to me is that it informs me as to which pop culture references I can use in conversation with people. Yes, I really do think about that kind of stuff...

I believe that there are 2 types of moms in this world, those who want to spend Mother's Day with the children who made them mothers, and those who want the day to themselves. Guess which camp I fall into. Listen, I love my family, but I have no qualms about using a Hallmark holiday as an excuse for a day off. This will probably change when my children are a little bit older and can sit through a meal without fighting, screaming, or pooping themselves, but for now, I'm good with a little time to myself on Mother's Day.

I find it really hard to be a good mom and a good friend at the same time. I have lists of people I need to call back and get together with. The thing is, I have tons of time at, say 3:00 a.m. when I'm up with insomnia because I'm trying to keep a mental list of all the balls that are in the air... anyone want to hang out then?

Food For Thought Friday: Allergies

2011-04-29T06:30:00.004-05:00

The other day, I asked the four-year-old to clean up his room. He said to me, "I'm allergic to cleaning." It was actually kind of funny, but at our house, real allergies are no laughing matter. Mr. Lindstrom has a shellfish allergy which has only manifested thus far in hives and itching, but as it goes with these types of allergies, it could escalate at any time to anaphylaxis. We have an epipen on hand for the unlikely event, but mostly we deal with it by avoiding shellfish or any contact with it.

The four-year-old is a bigger concern. Shortly before his third birthday, he was playing with our neighbors and Mr. Lindstrom down by the lake in our neighborhood. He stepped on a bee hive, and was attacked by bees. Head to toe, we were able to count 30 stings. In his little body, that exposure to venom is potentially deadly to someone who is allergic, and unprepared. Luckily for us, at that time his reaction was mostly local, but we headed straight to the Emergency Room for good measure. Their suggestion was to get an Epipen Jr. (the little guy's version) and have it on hand in the event that another bee sting could lead to anaphylactic response, which is potentially deadly. We learned the signs, we learned the technique, and now we just hope to high heaven that the bees stay far, far away from his brand of sweet.

Because in addition to the potential bee sting allergy, we have a food allergy in the family, we take the process of introducing foods very, very seriously. We know that among the foods that cause anaphylactic allergic responses (where the throat closes and the airway is compromised which may cause death) are peanuts, tree nuts, and strawberries. Other foods cause different kinds of allergic reactions, all of which are serious and should be treated. As a result, our children will not eat a nut until they are at least five-years-old. This is how we've chosen to handle the threat of food allergy.

In any case, we know a handful of people who have a serious food allergy in their family, both children and adults, and the concerns are mostly the same. Children have a more difficult time communicating their allergy, and that's where these awesome stickers come in handy.

You can personalize them and share the information easily by placing a sticker on their clothing (perfect at birthday parties or play dates), on their school lunch boxes, or on their medical bag which may hold an antihistamine and the epipen (this is what we have for the four-year-old in the event of a bee sting reaction). This way you can depend on the sticker to convey the message in addition to your child, who should know about their allergy and be able to identify it to adults. In the event an adult forgets, the stickers will remind. You can personalize them so that they are unique to your child and their specific allergies. We will be getting these for the four-year-old's med bag and to wear at outdoor play dates. Stickers or no stickers, it's really important to be educated about food allergies and other potentially life threatening allergies in children. In the likely event that you find yourself responsible for a child with allergies.

Having a potentially life threatening allergy can be scary when it comes to your child, but knowledge and information is power in this situation, and there is no reason that the overall quality of life that your child experiences should be negatively impacted!

Food For Thought Friday is brought to you by the amazing folks at Welcome Baby Care. They are THE postpartum and newborn experts. Check out their website, and don’t forget to “like” them on Facebook to take advantage of all their knowledge. Also, be sure to follow babycaretweets on Twitter to receive news and ideas on newborn care and thoughts about parenting!

My Lips Are Not Sealed

2011-04-28T06:30:00.043-05:00

Sometimes I discover something so amazing, that I have to shout it from the rooftops. Since I have a crippling fear of heights... and straight jackets, I will not be climbing on top of any houses to scream about this product that I love, but I will blog about it. I think that it's proper etiquette in the blogosphere to disclose when you are being paid to tell people how much you love something. That doesn't matter because (believe me) nobody is paying me jack squat to tell you how much I love this product. I'm doing it out of the goodness of my heart (and a little bit because I have a fear that they will discontinue this product if more people don't fall in love with it, and if they did... well, see above fear of straight jackets...)

Here are the facts about me:

I apply makeup once a day... if that. In the morning. If I'm lucky and have a hot date in the evening (with Mr. Lindstrom of course), I'll give it a once over again prior to painting the town, but I do not reapply when I'm out and about.
I do a lot of kissing. Mostly foreheads of short people, specifically those I gave birth to.
Sometimes I kiss Mr. Lindstrom, if he's lucky.
If I am leaving the house and only have time to put on one cosmetic product, it is lipstick.
I do not spend lots of money on makeup. I like to save my duckets for food and wine.

So, while cruising around my local Target a few years ago, I spotted Maybelline's Super Stay 24 hour lipstick. Thinking it was too good to be true, I bought it, our love was instant. I mean seriously, this stuff stays on until you take it off. The benefits have been truly amazing. My children do not walk around with Gorbachev-esque stains on their foreheads, my husband does not appear to be a cross-dresser after one little smooch, I don't even have to consider reapplying (and frankly, the act of "considering" a reapplication would be my only behavior change), and I have lots and lots of dollars left to buy a glass of wine... and not worry about my lips staining the rim. Brilliant!

Listen, I understand that you may be reluctant to receive any type of fashion or make-up advice from me. But you can trust me on this. I promise.

Wordless Wednesday: I Learned It From Watching YOU!

2011-04-27T06:30:00.002-05:00

Now that you've seen the terrible example I've set for my daughter, please check out my post for It's My Baby Blog today that tells more about how I'd like to be a good example for my kids when it comes to supporting families who deal with Autism.

Pssssst... there's also a giveaway going on over there!

It's the Little Deaths...

2011-04-26T06:30:00.150-05:00

I have to be honest, I've been a little heavier on the grief-talk around these parts lately than I usually like to be. I attribute it in part to the fact that I am in what I call "the Brady Days." Our first daughter, Brady lived for 109 days six years ago, and we are in the middle of those 109 days between the day we celebrate her birth, and the day we mark her unexpected death. My muscle memory (the heart is a muscle) embeds these days with a deeper grief than I experience the other 256 days a year. That is not to say that I walk around in a cloak of sadness through these days, I find that each year it gets better. That is also not to say that I do not grieve the loss of Brady those other 256 days, each year I realize how eternal this pain is. While time certainly eases it, time cannot erase it. So, please bear with me during these days as I work through where I am today, and tomorrow, and on and on... What I am saying is this: I would much rather hang out in the joyful spaces in life. I appreciate laughter and a great punchline, and certainly I am doing plenty of that in my day to day right now, but what I'm finding myself called to blog about is this grief stuff... so here we go again...

I have been thinking a lot lately about this quote by David Eagleman: "There are three deaths. The first is when the body ceases to function. The second is when the body is consigned to the grave. The third is that moment, sometime in the future, when your name is spoken for the last time." This is most certainly true in regard to your own death, but for the bereaved, their loved ones die hundreds and hundreds of deaths. There is, of course the death of the body, and then the farewell to the body. However, the bereaved will keep the names of our loved ones on the lips of the living, as long as we are alive, that death will not come.

Instead, each day, each week, each month, the ones we love who have died, die many times. When we realize that we have lost a memory (like the feeling of Brady in my hands as I brought her to her bath. Her small naked body, the weight of it, the softness of it, the folds and slopes, the warmth. I cannot remember. This was the memory I never wanted to lose, and I have lost it.), or that we don't think of them as strongly as we once did (there comes a time after the death of a loved one, that life without them becomes the new normal, and the new normal becomes as comfortable as the old normal, and it is deeply troubling because it means that we are getting used to life without.), or when someone (usually) unintentionally speaks without remembering our loss (I bristle when someone tells me about something they have done or haven't done with their child and follow it up with the words, "... and they lived.") The ones we love die again, and again. The little deaths happen with no fanfare or ceremony. We grieve them silently, and we move through them.

I am keenly aware in my day to day of these little deaths. I wrestle with these little deaths. I grieve these little deaths. Somehow, and I don't know how, I keep surviving these little deaths. I realized yesterday that I have literally NO idea how I keep getting through this profound and painful loss. I have NO idea how I arrived at a place where I knew that I had a choice to make, and my choice was to live here, and live without Brady. I never have had an idea where on earth I found the courage to become a mother again after she died. I have NO idea how Mr. Lindstrom and I, or any other of my friends who are bereaved parents figured out how to keep waking up despite this pain, to keep showing up for life and I am willing to bet you that they don't really know either. We are not stronger than anyone else, we have just been tested. We are not braver than anyone else, we have just been forced to show our bravery. We are not wiser than anyone else, we have just been presented the opportunity to process and live into a deep experience.

Here is the grace: When the four-year-old wraps his arms around me and tells me how much he loves me, or when the Twinstroms both climb into my lap and try to find room for both to cuddle (and miraculously, they always do), I am holding all of my babies, even the ones I have lost. That, my friends, is LIFE.

Manic Monday Blogarrhea

2011-04-25T06:30:00.036-05:00

I'm pretty sure that when I am around other adults I look like a lazy mom. Here's why, when there are other adults around (specifically ones that are related to my kids like uncles, aunts, grandparents, etc.) I let them do the running around and picking up so I can relax a little. It's a survival mechanism. If I have to look like a lazy ass every twice in a while just to get a little respite, so be it.

Another item on the list of things I should be embarrassed about; I just realized that Arby's is RBs spelled out. RB stands for Roast Beef, which is what they serve in sandwich form. When I realized it, I told Mr. Lindstrom thinking that this was some sort of amazing discovery. His reply to me? "Yeah, everyone knows THAT." (Then about a week later, I found out that he was lying to me, and that when I explained it, it was the first time he realized it, too.)

I have a lot of girlfriends who love the color purple. Here is my observation (it is an observation - NOT a judgement), people who love purple LOVE purple. I have one girlfriend who said that it's sort of an obsession. Like, she will have to talk herself through not buying something she likes in purple just because it's available, and then she will frequently go ahead and buy it anyway, because she loves purple that much. She said that the last thing she needs is another purple sweater, but she LOVES purple. I think about Prince (formerly known as The Artist, formerly known as The Artist Formerly Known As Prince, formerly known as Prince) and how purple was like a religion for him. Like he wanted to procreate with the color purple and make sweet little purple babies. I guess I like green, but I don't have that reaction to green. I think it must be something about the psychology of the color purple. Any insights?

I was reading the four-year-old a book about tortoises who hibernate before bed the other day, and the tortoises explain that they sleep all winter because they can't find any food outside. I would like to go on record when I tell you that if ever I could not find food, I would give up and sleep, too.

Food For Thought Friday: Put It On "Ice" - In Case of Emergency

2011-04-22T06:06:00.001-05:00

Once I became a mother, I spent even more time than I had previously thinking about what would happen if there were an emergency. Suddenly, when there are children to care for, being involved in an emergency situation affects proportionally more people. It may feel a little like borrowing trouble when you spend time thinking about what would happen in an emergency, but really it is really important to be prepared. I grew up in a house that was well decorated with the old green Mr. Yuk stickers. It was a method to keep us safe, and as an adult, I appreciate the symbol that kept us out of the poisons, and the support that little sticker provided parents and caregivers with the poison control number displayed prominently right there.

There's a new campaign that I want to make you aware of, one that takes only seconds to complete. The other day, I called my husband on his cell phone and when he answered he said, "Hello ICE-Colleen." At first I thought he was giving me a new nickname (for the record, I think it's a pretty badass nickname), but he explained to me that I am now listed in his phone as ICE Colleen because Emergency Responders will look in his cell phone under ICE (In Case Of Emergency) should he be in an accident and they need to find his emergency contact. The U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reported in 2006 that 1.6 million emergency room patients could not provide contact information because they were incapacitated. Mr. Lindstrom will not be one of those people in the future, because he took a couple seconds to put me in his phone under ICE.

There's a little more to it, but it's all still doable. It's a four step process: 1. Choose a person to be your emergency contact. 2. Make sure that they are equipped with your important information regarding your Medicines, Allergies, and Doctors. 3. Put them under ICE in your cell phone. and lastly 4. put an ICE sticker on your phone that will alert emergency responders that you have this type of communication protocol in place. You can get ICE stickers and find out more about this awesome campaign here.

I'm already ICEd, will you do it too?

Pop over to It's My Baby Blog for some more great ideas on Emergency preparedness for your family.

Food For Thought Friday is brought to you by the amazing folks at Welcome Baby Care. They are THE postpartum and newborn experts. Check out their website, and don’t forget to “like” them on Facebook to take advantage of all their knowledge. Also, be sure to follow babycaretweets on Twitter to receive news and ideas on newborn care and thoughts about parenting!

The Brag

2011-04-21T06:30:00.016-05:00

The other day on my facebook page, I asked people how awesome they were. Only three people responded with some variation of "totally awesome." I am not shocked. We are not allowed to shout our awesomeness from the rooftops nearly enough. So, here, anonymously if you'd like (but feel free to identify yourself. In fact, if you identify yourself, everyone will cheer for you by name!) brag away. What makes you so awesome? Or what are you proud of yourSELF for right now. One rule, no bragging about your kid, your spouse, your mom, your cousin, or anyone else that you cannot call "me". Not because they all aren't awesome, but because this is about YOUR awesomeness. If they are so awesome, have them come on over and tell us about it! Just spout your awesomeness in the comment section, and we'll all cheer you on! Don't be afraid...

Wordless Wednesday: Conjoined Pacifier Twins

2011-04-20T06:30:00.002-05:00

Note to self: Remove pacifiers from the boiling water when done sterilizing...

When you're done marveling at how forgetful I am, please head on over to It's My Baby Blog to read the post I did on the birth of a daddy.

It's a Girl Thing

2011-04-19T06:30:00.006-05:00

I got real lucky last weekend. I had the amazing opportunity to spend a weekend Up North (for those of you from other areas, this is a Minnesotan term for 'close(r) to the Canadian border') with my girlfriends. We call ourselves the Odd Quad because we have known each other since high school, but we came from four very different "crowds." We intersected originally in our freshman year of high school, having all chosen to take Chinese as our foreign language option. Naturally, as the years plodded on, many people dropped out of Chinese, it's a pretty tough language to learn, and once you've fulfilled your foreign language credits in high school, it can be difficult to build a case for sticking with it - for reasons unbeknownst to each of us, we all stuck with it. We graduated and like people do, we went our separate ways with the intention of trying to stay in touch.

It's funny to think about this now, in our extremely connected world where geography has nothing to do with your ability to keep up with the day to day happenings of friends and (frankly) complete strangers, but email had just been catching on the year that we graduated from high school. People our age didn't carry cell phones, and what on earth was a "text"? When we called people outside of a 50 mile radius, we used this thing called long distance that you had to pay EXTRA for. We used pens and papers to write letters, and had to make a trip to a mailbox and wait at least two days to get a written message to our friends. Then we'd wait a week or more to hear back from them (this was the cheapest method of long distance communication aside from email, but we used it because it was so much more familiar than that new fangled email. Sometimes I think of how students huddled around our PO boxes in the Student Union thumbing through handwritten envelopes, grinning at a letter from a parent, a sibling, or a great friend who was going to school across the country. I don't suppose it's very much like that anymore.) As you can imagine, we fell out of touch. Years later, we connected again through facebook and started getting together as close to once a month as our schedules would allow.

My husband regularly checked with me over my weekend away with these women whom I had known since I was a girl, to see how it was going, and he'd ask, "what are you guys doing up there?" I had only one answer, "talking." For 2 full days, we talked. No TV, no music, no book reading, and (almost) no social networking (this will be addressed in a future blog post titled "Put Down the Freakin' Computers, Smartphones, and Whatnots and TALK TO THE PERSON SITTING NEXT TO YOU" or something of the like). We talked. It was just what the doctor ordered. This confused my husband. He could not possibly imagine sitting around in a living room all weekend and just talking to his dude friends. His confusion was evident as he continued to probe, "Did you play video games? Did you go to a bar? Did you play board games?" and on and on... No. We just talked. That had really been the plan, to wear comfy clothes all weekend, and hang out, and talk. We never ran out of things to talk about. I think if we had spent another day the same way, we would have come away with even more things to talk about. Women are like this, there are always more depths to explore, there are always more layers to uncover. Our conversations ranged from grief to the most comfortable underwear, sometimes within five minutes. We flowed effortlessly through the tough topics and the lighter topics, we laughed a lot, sometimes until we cried. We remembered the girls we were, and celebrated the women we had become.

Four of us, with distinctively different high school experiences, with even MORE different adult experiences. Just to give you a flavor, one of us is a widow who is single parenting, one of us is married and has decided not to become a parent, one of us has two children and has spent the majority of the past decade somewhere other than the place the rest of us have mostly known as home (Minneapolis), and then... there's me, you KNOW me. We have adapted to a slightly more grown up version of our old friendship (emphasis on slightly... we pride ourselves on our ability to behave completely immaturely when the mood strikes). A friendship that was based on nothing more than a sincere care and love for each other and desire to know each other's stories. We still make fun of the people we were and joke a little about how those people have given way to the people we are. We learn from each other, we laugh with each other, and we genuinely support each other in being who we authentically are (and in some ways always were). In short, they are my SHE-roes.

As difficult as it was for me to leave my kids for the weekend, as much as I missed them, it was so important for me to get away for a short time, so that I could get BACK to me. Sometimes as a mother, finding the time to just be YOU can feel like an indulgence, and culturally, an indulgence is too selfish. I gave in, and I'm proud of myself. These women were like a map. Reminding me that I am more than just a mom, and pointing out to me when I was and wasn't "keeping my cool." I could have done it without them, I suppose, but it wouldn't have been nearly as fun. I got real lucky last weekend.

Manic Monday Blogarrhea

2011-04-18T06:30:00.057-05:00

When you're a parent, and you make it through the newborn stage, and then someone (or everyone) gets sick and you're up all night, you kind of wonder how you EVER existed with such little sleep over an extended period of time.

Here is something I am embarrassed about: Up until yesterday, I did not know what it meant to "detail" your car. I thought it was just called "cleaning." Now that I know exactly what it is, I'm thinking I'd like to get my house detailed.

How do you feel about the Nakeds at the gym? The Nakeds at the gym are the people in the locker room who spend extended time naked. They do not treat nudity as a transitional state, but rather as the primary state in the locker room. Nakeds do everything that other people do with a towel or underwear on, only they do it naked. Drying their hair, putting on their make-up, sitting on the bench, having conversations, they do it all naked. So, who are the Nakeds? Do the Nakeds know that they are Nakeds? (For the record, here's what makes Nakeds different than Nudists. Nakeds are confined to the locker room, Nudists have communities.)

I want to say a very heartfelt thank you to all of you who were awesome enough to vote for me for the Circle of Mom's Top 25 Inspirational Family bloggers. I made it into the top 5. I have to tell you, I honestly don't think of what I do here as intentionally inspiring. I am just living my life out loud, and hoping that I can give some purpose to the pain I've had in my life. I also want people to know that out of the deepest pain, can grow some of the most amazing, life affirming things. So, even when you feel kicked in the gut, remember that there are blessings and beauty all over the darn place. Keep looking, and it'll find you in no time.

Food For Thought Friday: Talking To Your Children About Death

2011-04-15T07:03:00.001-05:00

Wow, I've been a real downer this week! Sorry, I just thought after yesterday's post about what you can do if someone you know is suffering a loss, it was natural to talk about how to bring your kids into the fold. I promise more fun and frivolity next week. This is an important topic, because the conventional wisdom has been to keep kids out of the loop on the whole death gig for as long as you can put it off. I understand the temptation to do that, but kids can handle so much more than we give them credit for. Conversations about death do not have to be the big "sit down and talk" type. They can be larger ongoing conversations.

Death has always been a topic at our house. People have asked, "when will you tell your kids about their big sister who died?" My answer is "right now." We tell them what is appropriate for them to know at any given time. Death is a HUGE concept even for adults, for children, it is even bigger. So, we use terms that they understand to their ability, and then answer questions as they come.

Fall is a great time to talk about death because that's what the season is all about. If you are a Christian type, the combination of Spring and Easter are a perfect time to talk about the concept of rebirth and heaven. Talking about the death of a loved one, or of someone you know, or even of someone that the world knows are all ways to introduce the concept. I have found that kids process death in such an open and honest way, they are not afraid as we both assume that they will be and as we are ourselves. When another child asks me who Brady is, or asks me about death, I always check with the parents before I tell their child about death. I believe that it is up to each family to decide how they want to introduce the topic, and I don't want to impede on their process, but the conversation usually goes something like this.

Me: Brady is my baby girl who died when she was very small.
Child: What does that mean?
Me: It means that her body stopped working and we had to say goodbye to her.
Child: Will you get to see her again?
Me: I believe that someday, in a long long time, when my body stops working too, that I will get to see her again. But that won't be for a long long time, and I miss her very much.
Child: [usually at this point the child says something amazing that brings tears to my eyes, or else they change the subject to cars or princesses or something else].

It's actually quite a simple conversation, and a typical one that I've had with my own child, and many other preschool aged children. They frequently don't react by putting themselves in the situation like we think they might (that really is something adults do far more than the children. The children tend to be more empathetic rather than sympathetic. It's really beautiful), but sometimes a child may say, "am I going to die?" And the answer I use is, "not for a very very very very long time." (The more times you say "very" the more likely that they are already thinking about cars or princesses).

Death is a part of life, and as adults, we get so jammed up it because we don't totally understand it. In many ways, children are far better able to accept it for what it is at the youngest ages than we are as adults. When my four-year-old was three, we started buying fish. I say that we started buying fish, because we had to keep buying fish to replace the ones that died. Each time a fish died, the four-year-old would say, "why did Carl die?" (Each fish was named Carl), and I would say, "I don't know..." and he would say, "I'll miss him." And that was it. The point I'm making is that often we are scared of other people's grief anyway, and that has to do with our fear of inadequacy in handling it. There is nothing to be afraid of. There is no ONE right answer, there is no ONE right way, it is a process for all of is. I only encourage the conversation because it makes the process that much easier for children to grasp if understand it at their level and process as they grow, rather than being offered the concept all at once and forced to make sense of it.

The most important thing: "I don't know" is a perfectly acceptable answer. Especially because there is so much about death that we really don't know.

Head on over to It's My Baby Blog, Welcome Baby Care's blog about parenting to find some excellent resources, including children's books.

Food For Thought Friday is brought to you by the amazing folks at Welcome Baby Care. They are THE postpartum and newborn experts. Check out their website, and don’t forget to “like” them on Facebook to take advantage of all their knowledge. Also, be sure to follow babycaretweets on Twitter to receive news and ideas on newborn care and thoughts about parenting!

What Can I Do?

2011-04-14T06:30:00.017-05:00

More than I care to, I get an email from someone asking what they can do for a friend who has recently lost a child. In the last six years, since the death of my first daughter, I have probably gotten this email just over a dozen times from just over a dozen different people. Each time, I go cold inside as I am propelled backward in time to a place that I wish I didn't know, but that is so much a part of me, the place that makes it possible for me to have an answer to the questions that these emailers are asking.

Unfortunately I got this email from a handful of people in my circle of friends just two days ago, and it occurred to me that this should not be a secret. People need to be told how to handle the unthinkable, and having been through it, I want to share what I unfortunately know. I answer these questions from my own experience. My first child died, she was an infant, it was unexpected. I am sure that some of what I'm sharing can be applied to other types of grief or loss, but these are thoughts about what was helpful or not helpful in the early and very raw days following the loss of my daughter. I share this with you in the hopefully unlikely event that you will find yourself the the place of wondering, "what can I do to support my friend who has lost a child?"

DO meet your friend where they are in their grief. You may have advice on how to approach the grief process, and it may indeed be good advice, but in the early days, your friend needs you to support him or her. They need you to walk the road beside them. It may change moment to moment, and you may feel like you have multiple personality disorder trying to keep up with the changing mood of the moment, but what you are going through in trying to keep up is minute in comparison to what they are up against. Be there. Show up. Love them. That is enough.

DO say the child's name. Say it often. Say it loudly. Don't be afraid. They NEED and WANT to hear their child's name. Talk about their child, allow them to talk about their child. Never apologize for tears, they are healing.

DON'T share thoughts you have about how you would be handling the situation. It is natural to imagine yourself in their shoes in order to get your head around the depth of their pain. Though the sentiment is genuine and the intent is certainly loving, the grieving ears may hear such things as, "I don't know what I'd do if I lost ___" or "I can't imagine what it is like for you..." as rubbing salt in their wounds. Of course you don't know what you would do and you can't imagine what it is like, because you still have your world in tact.

DON'T say the words "at least..." Whatever you do, if you feel those words tickle your lips, stop talking. Just stop. Nothing good comes after those words. Whether you are intending this or not, those words are minimizing the pain of their grief. They are saying, "it could be worse." For the grieving person, it couldn't be worse. Or if it could, they don't want to know how.

DO help them with their day to day tasks. In the earliest days, the simplest tasks indicate that time is moving ahead. For the person who is grieving, the world has stopped. Each moment passing means that they are a moment further from the last time that they held their child. This will change. For some it changes quickly, and for others it takes some time. Grief does not move on any sort of regular time table. So help your friend with things like grocery shopping, house cleaning, yard work, paying bills, laundry, anything that you do from day to day, they may need help with. It's not that they can't do it, it's just that grief can paralyze. There may be times that they feel like they need to do that stuff to feel "normal" again, and other times (like when they get a bill in the mail for the ambulance ride to the hospital where their child ultimately died) that they will not be able to bring themselves to write the check and mail it, or make a call to dispute it. Remember that you are walking the road beside them. Some things that were particularly helpful to us, we had friends bring everything from toilet paper, to bottled water, to styrofoam coffee cups. There were always people around in the first couple of weeks, and we were happy to not have to worry about all the things we would normally worry about if we were "entertaining." For the first couple of months, our neighbors called us every time they went the grocery store. They made sure we were stocked up with the staples. Do not underestimate the power of this gesture. You may not be able to find the right words to say, but you can support your friends by making sure they are cared for in their environment.

DO put important dates on your calendar and ACKNOWLEDGE them. A birth day, the child's due date, a baptismal anniversary, the date of the child's death. Send a card, say a prayer, give them a call. That said, do not send sympathy cards on a birthday. This one is tough to explain, just trust me on it. Just a nice blank card with the words, "we're thinking of you on this date as you remember the birth of ___." That's perfect.

DO Check in regularly. For us, most of our friends sort of disappeared and got on with their lives right away after the funeral. We had been surrounded physically for about four days, and then suddenly everyone was back to their lives. Our lives still had the brakes on. It is understandable, for sure, but it was really really hard. So, do what works for you, but if you put it on your calendar or to do list each week to check in, it will mean a whole lot. And then remember, you are walking the road WITH them.

DO Tell them you love them. Tell them you're sorry. And if you don't know what to say, say "I don't know what to say." They will appreciate that far more than the attempt to find the "right" words. I have to tell you a secret, there are no "right" words, nothing about the situation is right. You don't have to try to eliminate pain or be inspirational. You just have to walk beside them. Meet them where they are. Love them.

Wordless Wednesday: 15 Months, Going On 15

2011-04-13T06:30:00.011-05:00

Click above, scroll down to Keeping Her Cool, and click the little orange "thumbs up." You can vote once a day, so vote tomorrow, too.

Once you're done here, head on over to It's My Baby Blog to see my post on Babyproofing Lindstrom Style.

I Was Born To Do This...

2011-04-12T06:30:00.027-05:00

"I am not afraid, I was born to do this..." - St. Joan Of Arc

I am not really ashamed of my reaction when I found out I was expecting twins, but I can't say that I'm totally fond of the memory. I joke about it a lot, but it makes me sad just the same. Just to review, I did not say "oh yay." If the word "yay" started with the letter F, and ended with an uck sound that would be more accurate. Oh, and I didn't say it just once. I said it millions of times over a 7 month period. At our eight week viability ultrasound (you "get" to have this type of treatment when you've been through the level of loss that we've been through. Even though SIDS, a miscarriage, and Trisomy 18 are unrelated, we were offered any and all tests available. It was not an honor, but was a welcomed privilege) we were quite surprised, as we were not expecting this type of news. I was frankly scared and not quite sure I was going to be able to do it. I don't know what I thought not doing it would look like, but I was sure I'd find out. (This is why parents of multiples have a hard time hearing, "I don't know how you do it," because we aren't quite sure what the alternative would be.)

I do sometimes wish, though, that I could go back and erase that reaction. Have a heart to heart with my 25 month ago self, and say, "it's going to be okay, you were BORN TO DO THIS." Now, I know that I was born to do this. My life just fits me, just like a really nice pair of pajama jeans. However, I don't like the fact that I'm really going to have put lipstick on the pig when I tell my kids about getting the news that they were coming. It reminds me of how I think back on the days before Brady died (or rather, the days of Brady's life). Never knowing that I was going to lose her, I wish I'd loved life with her differently while she was here. You know what though, through all of this uncertainty, fear, challenge, pain, and grief, I keep finding myself, and liking myself a whole lot more.

The truth is this: Life is the most amazing, miraculous, ridiculously joy filled thing, and simultaneously so painful and hard sometimes. Many times, those moments of ridiculous joy can come in rapid succession with the painful hard moments or sometimes they even exist in the exact same place. It's all part of the mystery, but whether you are in the midst of the joy, or the depths of your pain, remember this: Do not be afraid, you were born to do just this, and you will do it, and come out on the other side more YOU than you have ever been. (Even if you don't know it yet.)

Manic Monday Blogarrhea

2011-04-11T06:30:00.061-05:00

A while ago, I Bloggarrhea-ed about Chad Ochocinco and what a massive d-bag I think he is (based only on his name, we haven't had coffee lately). On Saturday night, Mr. Lindstrom and I went to the Twins game. They played the Oakland A's (I have to say, A's sounds way cooler than Athletics as far as team names go, so nice work, Oakland, on saving time by abbrev.). Do you know that there is a dude on that team named Coco Crisp? COCO CRISP!!! That's awesome! I think cereals should start paying Athletes to change their name to their product names. Like a wrestler called Frosted Flakes, or a golfer named Trix, maybe even a hockey player who will go by the name Lucky Charms... Whoa, Mr. Lindstrom just informed me that there is another baseball player named Milton Bradley... YOU CAN NOT MAKE THIS STUFF UP, FOLKS!
I used to be a really great beer drinker. The older I get, the more it upsets my stomach. So, I've made the switch to wine. When I go to a ball game I like to have an adult beverage during the game, but since I don't do beer, I get really classy and drink white wine out of a beer glass. Cheers!

Do you see this? This is a romper for an adult that I found while shopping at Old Navy. Please friends, can we agree to limit rompers to the under 3 year old set? Please? Now, I'm no fashionista (remember, I have pajama jeans), but I really think this look goes best with a full diaper (if you know what I mean, and I think you do).

When I was little, we had a bagpiper that practiced in our neighborhood. We lived near a bridge that apparently had really great acoustics. The bagpiper would practice until dusk, and then pack up his pipes and go home. It was sort of an unspoken rule in our neighborhood that the kids should go home when the bagpiper stopped playing. One day, a classmate in school was talking about not hearing his mother calling him home at night, and subsequently being grounded for being outside too late playing. I said to him, "well, don't you just go home when the bagpiper stops?" Because I literally thought that every neighborhood had a bagpiper. True story.
Hey, while I have you here, can I trouble you to just click below and vote for Keeping Her Cool. It will take you 15 seconds and you will burn 4 calories. That would just be real nice. Thanks!