Tips from the Trenches: A Guide to Practical Parenting

There are times in my life when I reach in my bag to find a pen and I pull out five juice boxes, cookie crumbs, scratched sunglasses, and some receipts. Then, there are the times when I pull out the pen.

Why can't school projects be made of materials that rot so I know when to throw them away?

I remember long, painful minutes of torture that began once the lifeguard blew his whistle and hopped down from his all-seeing perch above the pool. Slowly I would get out of the pool and sit on the side with the other kids discussing how much longer it was going to be and trying to talk one of the innocent younger kids into going to ask the lifeguard how much longer it would be. A completely unfair way to treat the pool's main occupants, we thought.

Today, though, I finally got the other side of the picture. We are staying at a "family resort" where the children abound. The pool is madness and swimming really just consists of keeping out of the way of the kids leaping through the air and swimming between your legs. So when the blessed whistle blew today, I actually felt relief. Pure joy. Peace. And, finally, yes, relaxation.

I didn't even mind flaunting my new found space in front of the jealous eyes of 40 7-year olds. I swam and floated and rolled around like a seal released into the ocean. It was sublime. I dunked myself under the water every time one of the kids opened their mouths to speak. I swam with a joy long-forgotten. I even talked about how nice the water felt with the other Adult Swimmers.

But, as with all good things, the whistle blew and we were engulfed in a tidal wave of 40 kids simultaneously plunging into the water. Within 10 seconds, the Adult Swimmers were out of the pool and the noise was earth shattering once again.

The only question I had was for the lifeguard..."how long until the next adult swim?"

Life is far from simple in the world of Tom and Jerry, but there are many lessons to be learned from each encounter.

Friendship

First and foremost, Tom and Jerry is really about friendship. Not just regular TV friendship, but the kind of friendship that involves the real complications of being different and being friends despite those differences. They may horse around a lot. Sometimes it is not very gentle (just like 5 year old boys, in my experience), but over all, they choose to engage with each other regularly and sometimes they put their friendship to work for a joint cause (most often, against Spike the dog.)

Conflict Resolution

This one is pretty obvious really. Tom and Jerry routinely find something to argue about. They are creative in how they work to solve the problem and, for the most part, they always come to resolution. They work hard and try different methods; and eventually, something works. Problem solved. What better lesson is there about solving life's problems, big and small?

Loyalty

Tom and Jerry may not always get along, but when someone else tries to threaten the careful balance of their relationship there is hell to pay. When Spike gets involved and tries to get either cat or mouse on his side, it usually ends up backfiring some how.

Fairness

Life isn't fair, but we can be happy despite unfairness. Sometimes Tom wins and other times Jerry gets the upper hand. They both end up happy at times and frustrated other times when they don't get what they want. Just like when we go shopping....we don't always get what we want there either! What self-respecting parent doesn't want their kids to understand that message?

Culture, Sociology, History, & the Fine Arts

Many episodes of Tom and Jerry are set to a spectacular score or involve a variety of fine art experiences, such as conducting symphonies, figure skating, painting, and dancing. Many episodes even have an historical setting, such as the signing of the Declaration of Independence, the French Revolution, and the Great Depression.

In addition, Tom and Jerry are representative of cultural issues of their time. They may not always be appropriate for today's PC culture, but that is also a topic for discussion. What an interesting education our kids would receive if we talked to them about how contemporary cultural and sociological issues even affects cartoons, such as Tom and Jerry.

So next time you sit down to berate this cat and mouse duo, sit back for a minute and reflect on what Tom and Jerry can teach us. Maybe you will discover something to appreciate after all.

For a long time it's really bothered me that I'm never in any of the family photos. I have to make sure that I ask for my photo to be taken to document that I was present, but that's about it. One photo of me at the Great Wall of China, one photo of me in Saipan with the kids, one photo of me holding my newborn babies. If I don't ask, I don't even get that one photo.

I think this is a fairly typical "Mommy Syndrome" really, but it still bothers me. My kids won't be cute forever. I can't possibly be beautiful and loving forever. So, what gives?

Then I realized, it is because I was there. In a weird way my absence is a symbol of how much I get to see. I get to see Jack climbing the Great Wall and Emma's first trip to the beach. I get to be present at the birthdays and the preschool graduations. I get to live it, for better or worse. While it's nice to have the photos, I wouldn't trade them for getting to be there. Not for a minute.

Lucky me!

Well, after what can only be described as the longest 15 hours in aviation history we are back on the ROK. Not sure how I'm feeling about that right now, but I'm sure I'll be letting you know.

My initial thoughts:

1. Whew, I'm back.
2. God, I'm back.
3. Oh MY God! You mean I have to do that again in 5 months!?!

This year we decided to celebrate Christmas a day early, on Christmas Eve, because the kids and I are taking a very long international flight back to the States on the 26th and I was hoping that the kids would rest better on Christmas Day in preparation for the trip. We even asked Santa as his "home visit" on Sunday if he would mind going out of his way to deliver early this year. (Extra cookies and Bailey's on-the- house! Oh, and carrots for our reindeer friends.)

Let's just say it seemed like a good idea.

In order to go with this plan, we ended up basically skipping Christmas Eve and, for the most part, it was a huge disaster. While the kids were excited as they would normally be on Christmas, we ended up so tired, frustrated, and generally unfulfilled that we decided just to have Christmas dinner where it belongs, on Christmas Day.

I didn't really realize how important having Christmas Eve was until I skipped it.

Not particularly ironically, like laboring for a child, there is natural progression from December 23rd to the 24th to the 25th to the 26th. We all know that the 23rd is business. The nesting/tying up lose ends time; the 25th is the arrival, the celebration; and, the 26th is the complete crash from all the excitment and peace is (somewhat) restored as life moves on. But the power of the 24th is underestimated. At least by me. Afterall, there's no baby without the birth, right?

By skipping the 24th, I realize I completely and utterly missed the blessed serenity of Christmas Eve. I'm not a classically religious person, so this really surprised me. There is truly a magical mystery to the waiting and the hopefulness of Christmas Eve. It is probably the one time of the year that I really find peace in church whereas I usually tend to find the "darkness" of church a bit overwhelming. I love wrapping presents and I like to wait to do it all on Christmas Eve. I love having family rituals at the end of the day of Christmas Eve. Overall, I love the sense of optimism that warms everyone on Christmas Eve.

And this year I missed it all. But I will not let the lesson go to waste. If anything, I think I just learned that I would rather spend a year in the serenity of Christmas Eve, than even 10 minutes of Christmas Day.

Merry Christmas! Joy to the World!

When I reflect back on my years of parenting, as I know I will, I think I will refer to them as my "Laundry Years". For some reason, it wasn't so bad with one child. I could handle it. When my daughter popped splendidly in to the world, everything changed. Not a day goes by that I don't have at least two loads of laundry to wash, dry, and fold. Ah, the memories give me chills.

For example, there was the time that I successfully wash, dried, and folded an entire week's worth of laundry in one day. And, then there was the time that I had to come dripping wet from the shower in to the living room just to find a clean, dried (but not yet folded) towel. What blissful times those were.

Other times, I will remember my daughter standing excitedly on a pile of warm, fresh-from-the-dryer laundry only to pee on the whole pile. (Yes, she took her diaper off.) Or the time when both my kids vomited so many in one 8-hour period that every single sheet, towel, blanket, and cloth diaper needed to be washed. It took me nearly three weeks to wash all them all. Then there was the time, recently, when I washed (or as he says, murdered) my husband's new cell phone. Good times. Good times.

No matter what events are happening in my life, laundry is predominant and undying. When will it end?

Despite the lingering "growing boy" odor, the frustrating build-up of trash and food debris, several cups half-filled with old milk, and the significant peril of a major Lego injury, cleaning Jack's room is one of the more fun cleaning jobs in my house. This is not just because Jack comes flying in to his room and proclaims how he loves his room looking like "this!", but it is truly a fascinating (and sometimes joyous) experience.

The first task is to open the window and remove all offending items (trash, cups, dirty laundry, etc). Once that is complete, I can move on to the fun part....seeing what the toys are up to.

Everywhere I turn, I find toys in various staged scenes. GI Joe fighting with a Transformer or dinosaur. Playmobil knights defending their castle which is being invaded by Ben 10 aliens. A piece of paper with a lake drawn on it with Lightening McQueen and Mater going for a swim. Lego Indiana Jones in an intergalactic battle with Darth Vadar. Stickers placed in strategic locations on the walls. Books open for reference. Blanket tents. Yarn zip wires strung across the furniture for the GI Joes and Luke Skywalkers. Secret hide outs. Rocks. Sticks. Straws.

I'm guessing cleaning his room will not always be this fun. However, when I do it now, I actually feel like we might be doing ok. He's got a great imagination. Keeps himself busy and engaged. And, most of all, his play seems happy.

I really wish there was a good way to capture the feeling of discovering the scenes acted out in the privacy of his own room at 5:30 in the morning, but I don't want him to know I'm watching. He might stop. I'll just have to settle for the memory on this one.

Five o'clock Sunday can only be described as the worst hour of the week. This is when your time slowly transitions into someone elses' time. The pace is picking up and your life on someone elses' agenda (school, work, kids, etc.) is about to break loose again.

By now, you'd think I'd have found some solutions for the 5 O'Clock Sunday Blues, but I haven't. It infects our house like the hours after eating bad tuna. Slightly uncomfortable at first, but then, suddenly, an all out war on our senses, our bodies, our minds.

Oddly enough, Monday morning is not so bad. It as though once you'd made it to Monday, Friday is on the radar again and it will all be ok. If I could just get through Sunday, the week would actually be ok.