A Grandmother’s Ode to Her Grandbaby: Princess Terror

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August 30, 2017

ode to grandbaby princess terror Providence Moms Blog They say there are people who just love babies. They are so sad when those babies grow up.

So…can I give you one?

I am referring to Princess Terror. My fifth grandchild and only granddaughter.

She doesn’t look like a terror. She has this kind of cock-eyed beauty. She smiles. She coos. In fact, she makes an astonishing variety of sounds. And they’re interactive. She’s just 5 months, but it feels like she is having a conversation with you. Yeah. She’s adorable. She melts hearts.

Until you get her alone.

We volunteered to babysit. It was only for an hour or so, and when her parents bought her over, she was asleep in her car seat. They look so precious when they’re sleeping.

Her mother left us with breast milk in a bottle, and some oatmeal cereal.

“Try the bottle first, and, if that doesn’t work, do the oatmeal and milk in a 5 to 1 ratio.”

It sounded like everything was under control.

For the first half hour, I happily played FreeCell while my husband cooked blueberry muffins with the toddler. All was well.

Then, my adorable granddaughter woke up. She smiled at me, and I quickly got her out of the carseat. I put her on the rug for a second, while I got out a clean sheet for her to lie on and a number of toys. She’s not crawling yet, but she turns over, and grabs for anything and everything within sight.

“She’s not hungry the minute she wakes up,” my daughter had cautioned us.

She was happy. Her toddler brother left Grandpa, came in, and handed her toys. They were adorable.

I was happy. I played FreeCell, and checked Facebook. ‘Alright. I thought. Piece of cake.’

I watched her carefully. It’s important to pick them up before they start to get upset. (I have babysat before.) So when she fussed, I swung into action. I changed her diaper. Once alerted, Grandpa readied the bottle and prepared a 5-to-1 oatmeal slurry.

It seemed to be going well.

I held her, and tried to introduce the bottle in a playful way. I let her grab at it. I put it on her cheek. I smiled. And…for a minute, it seemed to be working! We have given her a bottle before. She used to take it.

But this time, she cried and spit it out.

I tried some more. Then, a little more frantic, I went into full creepster mode.

“C’mon girl…I know you want it.”

No. She didn’t. She cried, arched her back, and spit.

OK. OK. Next I tried the oatmeal slurry. I gave her one spoon to hold and took another. I tapped her lips. I smiled. I slipped a little milk slurry into her mouth.

Woah.

Isn’t there is a scene in The Exorcist when the child turns her head around in a complete circle and projectile vomits? This went somewhat like that.

“OK. OK. Lily.” I said, very calmly. “Let’s try a re-set. I realize that you are currently a bit too hysterical to eat right now. Let’s walk some.”

Her other grandmother is the brilliant inventor of the baby footfall hold. In this hold, my granddaughter’s head sits in the crook of my elbow, and my arm goes through her stomach and legs, supporting her belly. She normally likes that. So I walked around the house a few times, and thought positive thoughts… ‘my doctor did tell me to get more aerobic exercise…’

“Do you want me to try?” my husband asked.

“Oh yes,” I answered. “Yes.”

He was the one who used to be able to get her older brother to take a bottle.

But he just repeated the same sequence, with no better results.

“She doesn’t have a dirty diaper.” I analyzed. “And she’s not tired, because she just woke up.”

I took her outside. Fresh air sometimes does wonders, they say. And it worked. For a second. I walked around the yard. I stopped at a tree, and let her grab at leaves. This too, worked. For a second. I let her grab at the fence. And a flower. I put her feet in water. This all stopped the wailing. For a second.

“I’ll put her in the carseat and drive her around,” my husband offered.

“Call Tracy first,” I muttered, clearly admitting defeat.

As it turned out, my daughter was only 10 minutes away. So, I kept walking, and shut my ears as Lily wailed. I try to keep a tight grip on her as she arches her back. I frantically repressed memories of when her head twists in a circle, her eyes turn beet red, and she vomits fire.

“Please Tracy…please…get here soon…” I prayed, clutching my holy water…

After approximately 100 years, my daughter sauntered in and picked up the baby.

Princess Terror immediately calmed down, just hiccuping once or twice. For effect, I think. My daughter sat down, curled up on the couch, and puts the baby to the breast.

“She is giving me slant-eyes…” my daughter commented.

“I’m sorry…baby…” she cooed plaintively. (Not to me, of course. To Princess Terror.)

I then have an uncharacteristic moment of honesty.

“She’s the worst,” I yelled. “She’s the worst of a bad bunch. Worse than her brothers…She’s…she’s… Princess Terror.” I’m a bit worked up.

And then, suddenly, everything changes. The baby turned all innocence and smiles. She cooed. She wriggled. She’s once again the most charming creature on earth. ode to grandbaby princess terror Providence Moms Blog

“I don’t know what your problem is…” my daughter sniffed. “I had her all last week camping and she never cried once….Did she?” my daughter rhetorically asked the girl’s brothers. “Did you hear Lily cry once? Once? In that whole week?”

“No.” they declared loyally. “No.”

I know what they say. I know they’re only a baby for a short time. I know how good their head smells. I know I should treasure every second.

But. Really? Really?

Anybody want to borrow Princess Terror for a couple of months? She can be really charming…honest…

A Chapter Ends: Saying Goodbye to My Childhood Home

By

Robin Barton

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August 29, 2017

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saying goodbye to childhood home Providence Moms Blog — My Great Grandparents celebrating their 50th anniversary

My parents recently moved out of the house they shared together for 37 years. The house in which I spent the first 24 years of my life. Thirty-seven years is a long time to live anywhere, but this house is a bit unique. Why? Well, it became a part of our family’s story when my great-grandparents purchased it in the late 1930s.

As time marched on, my grandparents became the eventual owners. My father and his four siblings all spent some time growing up there. Decades later, my

parents bought the home from my grandparents. That means four generations of my family have lived in this house. Six generations, from my great great grandfather down to my own children, have walked its halls.

With my parents’ move, I have spent some time in reflection. This was, of course, the place I called home for the majority of my life. It’s the place where Mom and I decorated the Christmas tree each year. Where Dad and I sat at my Strawberry Shortcake table on Saturday mornings to color. I learned how to ride a bike there. It is the place I got ready for school each morning, from kindergarten through college. My very first car resided in its driveway. A teenage-version of myself spent hours on the phone there (racking up long distance charges) with her boyfriend. It’s where that boyfriend asked Dad’s permission to marry me.

But because of the history of this house in my family, it has not only

impacted me. Inside the walls of this house, young couples embarked on their next journey, babies came home from the hospital, family members posed for pictures in front of the mantle, and four family members (including myself) exited the house on the day they got married. Grandchildren visited, achievements were applauded, tears were shed, laughter was shared.

In many ways, this house was like a book. So many chapters of my family’s story have been written in this home. And each of us who lived there has contributed to its narrative.

But at 6 and 3, my kids may only have fleeting and fuzzy recollections of this house. My 6 year old may remember sleepovers, visiting his great-grandmother next door when she was living, and the “best pancakes” that his Pepere made there. I’m not sure how much my 3 year old will remember, if anything. As parents, though, I think it is our task – our joyful task – to be storytellers. We are responsible for passing on memories of what is, and what was, important to us and the ones before us.

When my grandmother was alive, we occasionally joked that she told the same stories on repeat. But in the year since her passing, it’s clear that those anecdotes have had a lasting influence. We chuckle over the funny ones. Time and time again, we reference my grandmother’s incredible memory for detail when trying to remember when something happened. My grandmother always told her stories with a certain amount of pride and a glimmer in her eye. Because of what this home meant to myself and my family, I intend to tell my kids and grandchildren (and maybe even great-grandchildren) about all the good times I experienced there. And I will be sure to recount the stories that have been told to me in order to preserve those memories for generations to come.

I could not be any happier for my parents as they begin to make new memories in their new home. Growth and change are part of the beauty of this journey we call life. We are always writing new chapters. While we can’t necessary live in the past, it’s important to reflect on it periodically and share it with those who come after us. It’s like dusting off your favorite book once in awhile and opening it up to your favorite chapter. This house may no longer belong to my parents physically, but the home that was cultivated there for generations will always be part of of my family’s story, and I am honored to be one of its storytellers.

Moms in the Arts: an Interview with Hansy Better Barraza

By

Tracy Slater

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August 28, 2017

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Providence Moms Blog continues our featured series “Moms in the Arts” with today’s feature on Hansy Better Barraza. Hansy’s resume is impressive; she is the Co-Founder and a Principal at Studio Luz Architects and the Co-Founder of BR+A+CE: Building Research+Architecture+Community Exchange. In addition, Hansy is also a professor of Architecture at the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD) where she served as the Graduate Program Director from 2014-2017. She is also the author of the book, “Where are the Utopian Visionaries? Architecture of Social Exchange.” Hansy manages to wear all these hats while parenting two children, six year old Aureilo and three year old Aires. She recently took time out of her busy schedule to chat with us about art, community service, and how she balances it all.

The field of architecture is traditionally male dominated. Have you found any particular challenges of being a woman and a mother in this field, and how do you navigate that?

I’m very conscious of it when I’m in these big corporate meetings that are very male dominated. I try to make sure that the care of my kids is under control so that I don’t have to leave the meeting. This under representation of women is already a negative for us, so I’m very conscious of that. In my office, I am a principle, so I am able to be much more flexible with my own time there. But when I’m out in the field professionally, I try to stay on task with what is in front of me. I want to make sure to represent women in terms of being a contributor to the profession and the discipline. I’m also a professor, and in my classroom I’m pretty much the same. I don’t mention my kids. However, I was a big advocate at RISD to make administrators aware that it was really important to have lactation rooms. That’s where I was more of an advocate, to push for those essentials that were really important that I didn’t have access to in 2010 when I had my son. Since then, with the help of others as well, our department has added lactation rooms.

Another challenge was that when I had my firstborn, the amount of time I was able to spend at the office shifted. It makes me happy to be able to do everything, but at the beginning I was driving myself crazy. It was a change to have to manage another human being as well. I realized if I still wanted to maintain the intensity of all the things I was passionate about, I needed help. You have to find a support mechanism that balances things out, whether it is help from your family or elsewhere. I think it’s important to let people know that things do shift, and it takes time to figure out. Don’t be afraid to ask how other moms do it.

Providence Moms Blog Art children RISD Hansy Better Barraza — Homemade costume.

How do you promote appreciation of art in your children’s lives?

I think it just comes naturally for me in terms of any activities that we do. We typically do activities first thing in the morning before school, a half hour to 40 minutes before we get out the door. We paint or work on models. My daughter generally paints, just because of her age and stage of development. Right now my son is working on modeling a car. In the past we have done a lot of plane modeling. I find that for us these types of activities are the easiest things to do in terms of having fun and getting them engaged with their hands. The way to promote art is always engagement with the hands. In our old house we had a door that my son could draw on. My friends thought I was crazy, but I said, “hey, you can just paint over it,” and he always knew that that door was a place where he could just draw whatever. In our new home, we have a table that we let our kids draw on with washable markers. In fact, they can just draw on any surface that’s washable.

I have a three and five year old, and I have to admit that it always feels like such a production to break out the art supplies. How important do you think it is that children are given regular access to be creative at home?

For parents who find it more daunting, like how some parents find cooking to be daunting, there are other ways to do it. Go to art museums. There are some art museums or art galleries that are not kid-friendly, but you can find fun art museums. There’s the Dr. Suess Museum and the Eric Carle Museum, for example. You can take the kids to museums that really allow for kids to engage and do activities. It doesn’t have to be these institutional art museums. You can also read to them about art and artists. Children are typically so curious. Even just walk the city or walk the neighborhood and talk about art; for example, “What color is that house? What makes the street vibrant?” Things like that.

Providence Moms Blog Art children RISD Hansy Better Barazza — Aries at the Eric Carle Museum

Please help with my mom guilt: how much of their art am I allowed to throw away?

I was getting so much art home from my son. He’s six and that’s when it really starts coming home. It’s funny, we have two bins, a recycle bin and a trash bin, and one day my son caught his artwork in the recycle bin. He basically told me I was not allowed to throw away his art anymore. I had to ask him permission first. So now we have these awesome 14 inch tall by 30 inch wide magnetic boards we got from IKEA. We have several of them and we always put all the recent art from school on the board and constantly rotate it. The remaining art gets put in a bucket and I recycle it by turning it into birthday cards. When I don’t have time to have them make one, I let him choose which one he wants to give his friend and have him write his name on it. We try to find really creative ways to use the art instead of throwing it away.

As a busy mother who is pulled in many directions, why do you think it is important to prioritize the arts in my life and the lives of my children?

What’s nice about art is that it has many different forms. It’s an expression and a moment. You can do it with people, you can do it solitarily, but I would say it’s important to make time for yourself. It’s important to express yourself; anger or frustration or happiness, even if it’s through written form, that to me is art too. It’s almost theraputic to make time for yourself and time for self care. Just go with it.

Does your career as an artist and architect spill over into your home life in any particular ways? I’m imagining you having a meticulously decorated and appointed home. Any truth to that?

art children providence rhode island — Finger Painting by Aires

Our home is really, really precise and clean. When we moved three years ago, my husband and I decided in our new home we were going to commission work, whether from our friends or ourselves. The art that we put on our walls does not have to have value, but rather has to have an emotional tie. My daughter has a painting she did with her hands when she was one and we framed it in her room. Whether it is produced by our kids or friends who are artists, that is what we have in our home.

How do you find balance in your life?

Once a month I get together with a group of 11 or 12 other moms. We trade off who hosts and sign up six months in advance. We get together at night after our kids are asleep, we have drinks and food, and we talk about politics and how to serve our community. For me, this has been really fantastic as a support network.

You co-founded Brace with the aim of creating community spaces that “engage social, economic, and cultural issues that communities around the world face.” How do you see art and community service as connected?

What’s interesting about access to art is that typically the communities that need it the most, communities that are disenfranchised and economically depressed, are those that do not have public art. But what those communities do have are non-profit organizations. So Brace will find a non-profit that serves a particular community that we’ve identified and work with them to see how to bring public art to that area. We aim to expose people to art and will do activities for about a month during the summer. We first reach out to the community to see what is lacking. The art is mostly site specific installations, like large sculptures and mini playgrounds in the neighborhood. On our next project we will be with a group of students from Roger Williams University.

Brace was founded the same year my son was born and it’s been really wonderful to be able to engage the kids in “working” (but not really working) on these public art projects. We’re cleaning up public lots, and they’re learning how to clean up, help with flyers, and see what the artists are doing. This is another way in which art engages them with social justice. Bring them with you!

At Providence Moms Blog, we are passionate about the amazing multi-dimensionality of motherhood and aim to support mothers in their role as “mom” while encouraging them to honor all the other aspects of their identity. We believe that the arts are an essential part of what makes us human and encourage all moms to make the arts a part of their own and their children’s lives. We are proud to partner with Rhode Island School of Design’s Continuing Education Program for this series.

RISD Continuing Education educates students of all ages in art and design with high quality, accessible programs, courses, lectures and workshops. Registration for winter classes opens on Monday, November 6, 2017, and classes will begin on January 6, 2018.

RISD CE offers courses for adults in the fine and applied arts and design at beginning, intermediate, and advanced levels. You’ll find a range of options to explore the world of art and design and RISD’s flexible course schedules meet the needs of today’s adult learners and their busy lifestyles. Options include 3-hour and weekend workshops, 6-12 session courses, and full certificate programs.

RISD’s Young Artist Program (ages 6-17) helps students make their mark as they create, build, make, and dream big through courses in 2D, 3D, digital art and design, as well as STEAM courses.
Saturday courses are offered year-round, and week-long vacation camps are offered in the winter, spring, and summer. Teens can enroll in one of four certificate programs to broaden their skills or prepare for a future in art and design.

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Keeping Score: Which Parent Really Wins?

By

Darlene Follett

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August 27, 2017

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Camping this summer…

Me: Hey, did you get Bean’s shoes?

Husband: No, I’m taking pictures of this cool bug.

Me: (visible eye roll complete with dramatic sigh)

Husband: What have YOU done? (grinning sheepishly)

Me: Oh you know: packed all the swim stuff, dressed both girls, sun screened both girls, and now I’m on my way to gather snacks.

Male friend: (shouting) Oh! Scoreboard’s up!

Lots of laughter to follow and shouts of “who’s done more?” from the surrounding couples.

Keeping score. I would be lying if I said I did not do it from time to time. It happens in my worst moments, when I manage to accomplish absolutely nothing, despite how hard I’ve tried. It creeps in at the end of day, when I am overwhelmed and frustrated. Typically, it’s witching hour, when my toddler is losing it, the baby is feeding off the fury, and I am just trying to stay afloat.

It becomes a spiral. I think back to those days before children. I completed simple tasks. They seem so long ago. I think about how much my life has changed since then and unfairly assume that my husband’s life has not changed nearly as much. Then, I calculate. I calculate what I have done that day, that week, that month, and in that moment I am always ahead. However, the score is not accurate and incredibly biased.

The problem is, I am not in this game alone. I am lucky. For me, parenthood is a team. There are times when one partner may be doing a little more than the other. However, the great part about a team is that roles soon reverse. Sure, there are days when I get all the things done and parent like a rockstar. There are also days when I ignore everything that should get done to give extra snuggles, collect rocks, read stories, build forts, and make memories. My husband never judges me for that. He smiles and tells me that our girls are lucky. They are, because my husband does the same.

The goal of parenthood is to love, teach, and inspire our children. Some days we may teach them about responsibility, and other days, we spark their imagination. There are going to be days when it all comes together and days when it all falls apart. Score keeping is not going to make that any better. My husband and I both have our strengths and weaknesses; together we make the perfect team. Even in those darkest parenting moments, I know he will be there to support me and I will be there for him.

keeping score who really wins providence moms blog — I hate to admit it, but it was a pretty cool bug.

So let’s go back to that scoreboard moment. The one where I had publicly called my husband out for not helping. Sure we all laughed, but it was not entirely fair. That morning he briefly helped me get the girls ready, but he discovered a cicada molting on tree. His inner nerd took over. He called all the kids over to witness the amazing metamorphosis. He called out play by plays and the kids studied the emerging bug. They were enthralled. Later, they collected cicada shells and searched for other weird bugs. He gave them a chance to take a deeper look at nature, so maybe he was up in points that day.

Of course, since we are not actually score keeping, it doesn’t count!

What Sets Your Mom BFF Apart From The Rest

By

Robin Barton

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August 24, 2017

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When I sit down to think about it, it’s kind of funny to think of how friendships evolve and come to be. You never really can pinpoint when someone migrates from casual acquaintance to good friend. Each and every one of my friendships is special, but there a several things particularly unique about my friendship with my mom BFF.

First of all, we didn’t meet in a “traditional” way. We met via a local wedding planning chat board about 13 years ago. We had a lot in common from the get-go: weddings two weeks apart, our now husbands being the same age (side note: I’m a year older, and she doesn’t hesitate to remind me of this), and having grown up one town over from the other.

Chatting on an online board turned into real-life meetups. Eventually we got married and moved over to the local “married” chat board.

Secondly, not only were our weddings closely timed, but so were the births of our children. My oldest boy is 6 months older than her oldest boy. My second born is 5 weeks older than her twin boys. Yes, we have 5 boys among us. We joke that collectively we have birthed our own basketball team. Our oldest sons even went to the same daycare for 3 years.

All friendships are special, but mom friends who have kids the same age as yours somehow get your struggles, your triumphs, and your occasional deliriousness in an entirely different way.

Mom BFFs are the first to know your kids are sick. Except for maybe your partner, they are the first person you text when the little one just barfed everywhere. And they always check in the next day to see how everyone is feeling.

Mom BFFs help you through the tough days of parenting. Sometimes it’s done through long, philosophic diatribes. Sometimes you share similar stories about your kids. Other times you calm her down via a series emojis, memes, and gifs.

Mom BFFs are one of the first people to like your Instagrams of your kids. She doesn’t even judge if you posted like 20 of them in one day. Because, duh.

Mom BFFs are always at your kids’ birthday parties. You also usually take a selfie during said parties in various poses. The selfie ends up on Instagram. (Spoiler: she is the first one to like it).

Mom BFFs welcome discussions about Halloween costumes and holiday outfits really far in advance. Few people could ever understand the need to ponder Halloween costumes relentlessly….in May. You also never realized two adults could hold such a riveting conversations about Christmas pajamas.

Mom BFFs commiserate with you about your picky eaters. They feel your pain when you just slaved over a meal no one ate. They also totally get that cereal for dinner is sometimes inevitable.

Mom BFFs remind you your kid won’t go to college in diapers. They celebrate potty training milestones and empathize with you over the setbacks. Also, no one can truly understand poop accidents until you’ve lived through one.

Mom BFFs analyze pictures of rashes and boo-boos. Hives? Bug bite? Eczema? Because two moms putting their heads together to solve a mystery is better than one, and it’s also far more calming than Dr. Google.

Mom BFFs tell you about the really great clearance sale so you can both stock up on kids’ clothes for next season. More than likely this results in your kids having some of the same outfits. Oops. (Hey, it just proves you both have great taste).

Mom BFFs are one of the first people to wish your kids a Happy Birthday. They also ask you how you’re handling this milestone. Why? Because they know you’re probably a babbling, weepy mess.

Mom BFFs text pictures of their kids building Lego forts in the bathroom. While they’re using it. You laugh because the same thing just happened to you 20 minutes earlier. You then reminisce about the days you had some semblance of privacy.

Mom BFFs plan playdates together. After the playdate, you both lament about your sheer exhaustion while simultaneously relishing in the fact that your kids are growing up together and hopefully creating a special bond, just like you both enjoy.

They say people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. My mom BFF came into my life for a reason, which turned into another reason, which is surely destined for a lifetime. I am thankful to share this journey through motherhood with her and to be able to talk all things non-motherhood with her. We keep each other sane on the tough days, celebrate the good ones, and laugh about the ridiculous ones. I am confident that, without her, I surely would have lost my mind a long, long time ago, and I am so very thankful that we met.

“Yes, My Kids Are Weird”: Addressing Assumptions About Homeschooling

By

Jessica Johnson

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August 23, 2017

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The cashier at Walmart seemed friendly enough, as she rang up box after box of crayons. I bought 10 because at $.50 a pop, how can you say no?

“Are you a teacher?” She asked.

“Um? Well no, I mean yes. I homeschool.”

There it was. The “look.”

I am quite familiar with the concerned/confused/interested expression that flashed across her face. Almost every person has it when they learn about our schooling situation. Following the “look” are the burning questions they have about home education. Here are the most common questions strangers ask me about homeschooling:

You homeschool? Are you like, super-religious? I feel like this is the first thing that comes in to many people’s minds. They hear we homeschool, then notice that I am not wearing a long skirt or head covering. I look like every other mom in Target on a Wednesday morning, so what gives? Okay, so yes. I am a Christian, as is my husband, and I am thankful we are able to teach our children our faith. But, that is not why we homeschool. In fact, we don’t even have “Bible” scheduled as a class in our homeschool. We view our faith as a part of our family life, not necessarily a class to check off during our school day.

You homeschool? Do you think people who send their children to public school are wrong? Of course not! Just because it is what we choose to do does not mean I think everyone else should too. I am thankful to live in a country where education is accessible to all children. Simply put, I disagree with the education model for my children, and am exercising my right as a parent to educate my child as I see fit. I absolutely do not think it’s wrong for parents to send their children to public school.

You homeschool? Are you trying to shelter your kids? Oh, quite the opposite! We home educate so we can expose our children to the world! Nature study, world geography, and music appreciation are well loved aspects of our curriculum. Not only that, but there are a ton of co-ops and supportive groups for homeschooling families to connect right here in RI. Three off the top of my head are: RIGHT, ENRICHri and RICHES.

You homeschool? Your kids must be pretty weird. Okay, this one is completely true! I have four little weirdos running around here, and I am not the least bit concerned. If they grow up weird, I will feel great knowing that I raised kids who cared more about being authentic than pleasing others.

Can I just ask, why are we so afraid of our kids being weird? We are constantly telling them “be yourself,” and “you’re special just the way you are.” What we really mean is “be yourself, but dial it back so you don’t stand out as strange.” or “you’re special just the way you are, unless you are too intense. That’s not special, that actually needs to be changed ASAP.”

It’s like we only want them to be unique in a way that brings us pride. Be a great artist or musician and share that with everyone! Don’t share your love of bugs or geometry though. That’s less socially acceptable.

I find that double standard irritating and confusing. Maybe instead of focusing on our kids not being weird, we should focus on helping our kids accept other people’s quirks without labeling them as an outcast. Yes, yes, I know you know some weird homeschooled kids, but I also know a lot of weird public schoolers too. Maybe it doesn’t matter where you are educated. Maybe weirdness is just one of those things that transcends man-made boundaries. Don’t hide your weirdness, embrace it!

Aaaaand I’ll step down off of my soap box now. Sorry about that.

You homeschool? You must have a lot of patience. And money! No and no. I yell. I get frustrated and have to cool off, just like every other mom. Of course, I try to have patience, and some days are good. But it wasn’t like I woke up one morning and thought, “Wow. I am a really patient person. I would be great at homsechooling.”

Have you ever heard that when you ask for patience, you don’t get patience, just a lot of opportunities to grow in patience? Homeschooling provides a LOT of opportunities to grow in patience.

As for money, we sacrifice to be able to live comfortably on one income. We have prioritized home education over other things like vacations, restaurants, and new cars. We believe it is well worth the sacrifice.

Anyway, I hope this helped address some maybe-preconceived notions you had about homeschoolers. As we all get ready for a new school year, I wish you all lots of luck and a great year, no matter how you choose to educate your children.

Holy Crap, I’m an Adult…and Other Obvious Realizations (Hint: Live in the Moment)

By

Kim Votruba-Matook

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August 22, 2017

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So there I am, walking down the center church aisle, hearing my kids’ squealing gradually softening behind me, and I see my younger brother waiting patiently at the altar. As I stare at my kid brother, I start to well up and say louder than I anticipated, “I am going to cry.” Thankfully the laughter from a few rows of family helped me keep it together and NOT ruin my very-rarely-done-so-beautifully makeup. I then broke bridesmaid protocol, hugged the snot out of my brother and told him that I loved him.

Then as I watched my two adorable little kids walk down the church aisle with their grandfather (my father) I came to the painfully obvious realization that, “Holy crap, I am an adult…and so is my brother.”

This is not news. I have been a mom for four years. Married for seven. A homeowner for eight. A big sister for 27. But that’s the beauty (or curse) of life events; they force you to pause and reflect on life (especially Orthodox Christian weddings; they are long!)

That moment (and the 59-minutes after that) illuminated how every second with which I’ve been blessed made this moment what it is. A beautiful celebration of love and joy and family. Yes, let’s make that last.

Then I thought about how time never stops. Whether you make good or bad life decisions, time marches on. And lives are crafted by those decisions. Insert “overwhelm” here.

For all those moments I was distracted by something fleeting and not listening when I should have been enjoying my large, extended and quirky family, I am sorry.

For all those times my brother wanted to play with me and I thought I was too cool…I am sorry for that, too.

Also, I was never cool.

And now I am an adult. A parent. A homeowner. A big sister. A Godmother. An auntie. A working professional. An entrepreneur. And a bridesmaid in my brother’s wedding.

While all of this is running through my head, I hear “Mama!” from across the church and I see a little hand waving to me. My thoughts cease as I stare at my smiling baby girl. I remember a quote by Omar Khayyem that advises, “Be happy in this moment. This moment is your life.” As I glance from my kids to my husband as a groomsman to my brother over the moon with joy and then to my parents holding hands in the front pew, this is very easy to do.

That’s what we have. That’s all we have. This moment. Right now. Forget what was. Be happy now. Happy wedding, little brother. May this new chapter in your life be full of happy moments.

Just a Minute Ago; On the Cusp of Kindergarten

By

Tracy Slater

-

August 21, 2017

2

“Remember when you were inside of me?”

He gives me a look, deciding whether or not to indulge my nostalgia or run off and play. He tries to play it cool, but the twinkle in his eyes betrays how much he loves this.

“It’s was just a minute ago!” Indulging me wins out and he repeats the phrase I say so often as he climbs into my lap, contorting his body to fit into that place where just a minute ago he lived.

The pile of paperwork they gave us at our kindergarten screening has been sitting on the counter for the last week, and I finally sat down yesterday to delve through it. I poured through the lists of school supplies to bring and activities to do over the summer to prepare him (don’t they realize it’s the parents who need to prepare, not the children?). I read and re-read the brochure detailing the nitty gritty of what to expect, the reminders about what snacks to bring, and what time school starts.

And then, like a punch in the gut: “Throughout the year we will write and illustrate many class books. The children really enjoy creating and reading their own books using their imagination, experiences, and knowledge. Sharing these books gives you the opportunity to know what has been happening in our classroom.”

With those words “gives you the opportunity to know what has been happening in our classroom,” reality sinks in and the tears began to fall. It’s been hitting me in waves since we decided not to redshirt him, a decision that I did not take lightly. I’m losing him. I don’t want to be given the opportunity to know what is going on in my son’s life, I want to know. I want to be there, seeing what he is doing, seeing him.

We thought long and hard about holding him back a year. “He’s a May baby,” I cited. “He’s small and so intense. He needs more time to mature.” And that was all true. It was the crux of my desire to keep him home a year longer. But in my heart of hearts I knew there was another reason as well. He’ll be ours for one more year. I wasn’t ready to share. I wanted one more year of snuggling together in bed in the mornings. Of long lazy days exploring playgrounds and adventuring. One more year of him crawling onto my lap in the middle of the day, of naps with his siblings. And, twelve years down the road? One extra year before he leaves us for college, for good. Call me selfish, but that was an appealing thought.

For the past five years, he has been mine. I shared him a little. With my husband, with grandparents, with the occasional sitter. But it was me who knew the ins and outs of his day, of his life. What he ate, when he slept, if he was happy; I keep close tabs on these things.

But in September, for seven hours a day, five days a week, he will be someone else’s. I feel unreasonably jealous of his kindergarten teacher and the time they will spend together. She will have as many of his waking hours as I will, and I will rely on emails and parent teacher conferences for the details of his life at school. I know how exciting this new stage will be. I know that he will learn and grow in ways that will amaze and astound me. I know that I can’t stop time. But still. The pill isn’t easy to swallow.

“Remember when you were inside of me? It was just a minute ago! I would put my hand on my belly and feel you kick and squirm and move. I could even feel you hiccup. I sat in this chair and I spent hours imagining what you would be like, who you would be. You lived inside of me and I couldn’t wait for you to come out. I felt like the luckiest mama in the world. I couldn’t wait to meet you.”

It’s time kiddo. I have to learn to share. The world gets to meet you now, they have no idea how lucky they are.

What I Learned From Summer Camp

By

Jackie Hennessey

-

August 17, 2017

2

I must preface this with two things: first, aside from a few very lame, 1970s day camps and a couple short weekends away at Girl Scouts camp in the early 1980s, I never went away for real sleep away camp as a kid. (You know, the kind where you go away for two weeks at a time.) And second, I love my children. Both of them. Unconditionally.

With that said, I have to admit that as a mother of two teens, I think I appreciated my children (who I love more than life itself) even more this summer when we had a little time apart. Before you start throwing poop emojis at me, please allow me to explain. We have a 16 year old boy and a 13 year old girl. It’s not easy raising teens, but we try our best. When your children become teens, something changes. Some days, they’re amazing, independent, and well-behaved. Others, you swear they morph into aliens. Aliens living inside your children’s bodies. They look like your children. They sound like your children. They even smell like your children.

But they aren’t the same people who liked you a few years ago.

When our daughter asked if she could go to sleep away camp this summer, we were a little apprehensive. We were also impressed that she had no qualms about going away for two weeks without knowing anyone. Some of her friends had signed up for earlier sessions, but she insisted that she would be fine.

“I’m excited about camp. It’ll be fun, Mom.”

I realize there are many parents who send their kids off for camp a month or two at a time. But sleepaway camp was a totally new experience for her. And for us.

The day we dropped our daughter off at sleep away camp, I felt a sensation in my stomach that can only be described as mush. Mushy fish guts that have been sitting on the counter for three days.

“Were we bad parents for letting her do this?”
“No wi-fi for two weeks? Now that’s a plus,” I thought (as I checked my iPhone for Facebook updates and skimmed a text from a friend.)
“Did she pack enough socks?”
“Did we leave the mosquito repellant on the counter?”
“Will she like it?”
“Will she make friends?”
“Can we pick her up next week if she doesn’t like it?”

I was annoying myself with all the questions rolling around my head. You can only imagine how my husband felt about my seemingly exaggerated apprehension.
Well, I’m sorry, not sorry. I’m a mom. And this was new for me. I get it. So very Smotherly Mrs. Goldberg of me.

I’ve gone my entire life seeing my kids every day, aside from an occasional sleepover. And not seeing my kid for two weeks was giving me heart palpitations. But we got in the car and drove across the state. When we reached the exit to the campgrounds, we waited in a line of cars for another 45 minutes. I didn’t know whether I needed to pee or cry more.

As we carried a plastic trunk filled with her belongings to her cabin, I noticed there were dozens of girls her age walking around in flip flops. With smiles on their faces. The beach was 100 feet away. Music was blasting. And a campfire was smack in the middle of everything.

Forget my kid, I wanted to stay!

I was about to take five goodbye selfies, and my daughter politely begged me, “Please mom, no photos.”
“Please don’t social this.”
I have to admit, she had a good point. Sometimes, you just need to experience the moment.
So I put on a fake brave mom face, hugged her goodbye and kissed her on the cheek.
I tried my best to not act like Mrs. Goldberg in front of her new cabin-mates.

When no one was looking, I snapped a photo of her cabin from a distance, just in case I needed something to look at over the next two weeks. No people, just the cabin, which looked smaller and smaller the farther I walked away. Kind of like my brave face, which disappeared and turned to quiet tears.

A few hours later, my husband and I were alone in the house. My son texted that he was at his friend’s until curfew. So we turned on some Pandora. Ordered some pizza. Grabbed a beer. And celebrated our temporary independence.

It sure was quiet without the kids around. My husband and I both work from home. And the first free day we had when my daughter was away? After I sent off a care package to her camp? Let’s just say we acted like we were 21 again. For the first time in a long time, we didn’t have to worry about anyone else. While our son was off to the beach with friends, we reminded ourselves that life is short. And sometimes, you’ve got to follow Tom Cruise’s friend’s advice and say what the eff.

So, what did we do?
We biked to the beach.
We drank cocktails by the pool.
We went out for sushi.
We talked and laughed. And laughed and talked.

Although I was a mess that first week, we enjoyed the time alone.
We had meals out and meals in together. I barely did any laundry or dishes. We just hosted a few pool parties and did some ubering for our teenage son and his friends.

For the most part, it was quiet.
And peaceful.
And kind of odd without her here.

So after the two weeks were up, we hopped in the car, took the campground exit and waited in the same line. When I searched through the crowd of campers and parents, my heart skipped the moment I saw our daughter run from her cabin straight to our arms. She may be 13, but she will always be our little girl. Although it was nice to have a little break, I have to admit, the saying is true: Absence does make the heart grow fonder.

Love for Leapfest

By

Kim Votruba-Matook

-

August 16, 2017

0

Love for Leapfest Providence Moms Blog I wasn’t sure what to expect from Leapfest in all honesty. To quote their website, “Leapfest is the largest, longest standing, international static line parachute training event and competition.” So, it is a day of watching people jump out of helicopters and parachute to the ground…in West Kingston, RI. Okay, that sounds cool. And it’s close to home. I am happy to report that it was an AWESOME family adventure! Here’s why I now love Leapfest:

Approaching West Kingston, we could hear and see the CH-47 Chinook helicopters flying their loop and parachute teams jumping out of them. The kids were so excited and, admittedly, so were my husband and I. We were going to see that all day, up close!

We parked and walked around the West Kingston Elementary School to get to the event. The parking lot opened to a school playground on our right, heavily utilized by kids who needed a break from the Chinooks, booths selling t-shirts and a decent crowd camped out on the side of a field watching people skillfully fall from the sky. For an international military competition, it was pretty low key.

Teams came from all over to compete, most notably from Botswana, South Africa, Germany, the U.K., and Canada, among many others. Impromptu geography lessons were crafted for my kids. Everyone came to show their skill of jumping out of a helicopter and landing on (or missing and running to) an “X” in the middle of a field. This is an immensely difficult task, especially given the wind. Every two minutes or so, we’d hear and see a Chinook, then we’d see four parachutes pulled open by a static line. It was literally exactly the same every time, though the repetition never diminished the awe of the act. In fact, it made us continuously stop in our tracks.

Love for Leapfest Providence Moms Blog

My husband knew some people at the event, including some of the jumpers. This made the event even more special for the kids. My son got to try on a jumper’s helmet, which he loved. And my daughter received her first challenge coin. Every jumper receives a Leapfest coin and this particular jumper offered his to my 1.5-year-old baby girl. It’s truly an honor!

Even if we didn’t know anyone at this event, the community is friendly and supportive. There seemed to be a higher awareness, appreciation, and acceptance in the crowd for (young) kids and families. And there are so many kids (and many ways to keep them busy)! It was a near-perfect, family-friendly environment.

Enough cannot be said for the appreciation of military service, the skill required to be an Airborne Soldier, and the global camaraderie this one day offered our family. Ample opportunity for observation and education for the entire family. And it was immensely fun. If you haven’t gone, you should! And oh, by the way, it’s free. Hope to see you at Leapfest 2018!

The field of architecture is traditionally male dominated. Have you found any particular challenges of being a woman and a mother in this field, and how do you navigate that?

How do you promote appreciation of art in your children’s lives?

I have a three and five year old, and I have to admit that it always feels like such a production to break out the art supplies. How important do you think it is that children are given regular access to be creative at home?

Please help with my mom guilt: how much of their art am I allowed to throw away?

As a busy mother who is pulled in many directions, why do you think it is important to prioritize the arts in my life and the lives of my children?

Does your career as an artist and architect spill over into your home life in any particular ways? I’m imagining you having a meticulously decorated and appointed home. Any truth to that?

How do you find balance in your life?

You co-founded Brace with the aim of creating community spaces that “engage social, economic, and cultural issues that communities around the world face.” How do you see art and community service as connected?

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