Is your partner a better mom than you?

I came across an article in the June issue of Today's Parent magazine in which the writer, Stephanie Rebot Tarling, thinks that her husband may just be a better mom.

I have to admit, I also have these feelings at times. I have written before about my husband's ability to immerse himself in imaginative play, a skill I lack. But as economies shift and roles reverse, are we moving towards a society where men are better at mothering than mothers?

Or are we moms, like the author of the original article, just feeling a bit insecure about our own skills as a parent? 

For me, one weekend at home quickly levels the playing field. He's home often during the week, which gives him the flexibility to do pick-up and drop-off, as well as prep dinner. But, without maligning him too much, he lacks the ability to look down the calendar and have a little foresight about the week ahead (or maybe that's just avoidance). The birthday party gift is always purchased the day of. The swimming gear's never packed until 10 minutes before we leave for class. He tends to leave these jobs for me.

While these tasks aren't inherent to good parenting, keeping the household ship running smoothly makes life easier for the family as a whole. I know I'm generalizing, but you would never hear a mom say, "I've been wearing these briefs for four days!" No! We'd have done laundry the day we took our last pair out of the drawer, or gone out and bought some new pairs.

So while he may be the king of distracting children during tantrums and coming up with the best show and tell ideas (the morning of), I think we need to give ourselves a pat on the back for the unsung jobs of motherhood (which get no love in any parenting book or wedding speech). Though our kids won't remember that we made sure they ate their veggies or got the bills paid on time, we just have to be OK with that. Because in the big picture of this family at least, this is the way it works best. 

What do you think? Are today's dad better moms than moms? Are their things your partner is better at when it comes to traditional mothering tasks?

Do you listen to kid music?

Originally published on Sweetspot.ca

I don't remember a time in my life without music. My mother constantly sang to us and it made an impression. I remember a time when my favourite records (yes young whippersnappers, I said records) were Raffi'sRise and Shine and The Greatest Hits of Walt Disney. I recall enjoying it when my parents played their Grease Soundtrack or Diana Ross's Greatest Hits, but I don't remember actively putting on those albums until I was older.

I became more passionate about music as I grew older, and eventually married someone who was born with an ear for music. But there's one thing we disagree on: whether or not our kids should listen to kids' music. I am of the mind that a mix of what we listen to and some kids' music is OK. But my husband cannot stand kids' music. He finds it patronizing.  (So does my friend Rebecca Eckler, incidentally.)

I've tried to find middle ground with albums like The Johnny Cash Children's Album, They Might Be Giants' Here Come the ABCs and Barenaked Ladies' Snacktime. These he can actually enjoy as their musical merit is superior to your average rendition of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" (incidentally, my kids' favourite bedtime song). 

But still, J prefers to play them whatever music he likes best at the moment. And he must be doing something right. My kids walk up to our vinyl collection and choose The Beatles' Yellow Submarine. "It's my song!" squeals Lucy whenever "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" comes on. A few days later, they ask for Neil Young's "Beautiful Bluebird" at bedtime (a favourite of their dad's) and correct me when I get the words wrong. 

Then came a contest asking for families to submit music videos for the Bunch Family/Luminato Fam Jam. My kids were out of their minds with excitement at the idea. We immediately wrote a song based on a band we've been listening to a lot:Arcade Fire.

I still think exposing your kids to any music is a good idea. J and I will have to agree to disagree on that one. (Lucy and I sneak on Maggie G's Around the House when he's not there.) But I'll give him a point for enriching our kids' lives with good music, because this is what happens when you do:



How do you feel about kids' music? What do you listen to with your kids?

My daughter, myself... and my son

The Fisher Price lights and sounds thingy is scrolling images of stars and galaxies on the ceiling to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. The air is damp with the faint smell of sleepy sweat and occassional bedwetting.

She is laying down on the trundle, perpendicular to where she should be, because she likes to be different, likes to forge her own way. Powder blue down throw up to her chin, 14 stuffies around her, all accounted for in a pre-lie-down census. Her brother lays above her, slurping his thumb and thinking of space and pirates and LEGO. I sit next to her, petting her hair, glad that I get to do this every night.

"When I grow up," comes the raspy whisper, "I am going to have two daughters: Sophia and Sarah Anne."

"Those are lovely names. I would be so happy to help you take care of them," I tell her.

"Yes, and maybe Nate could be the dad."

I should just say yes, but for some reason I am compelled to tell her that having a baby with your brother is illegal, unhealthy and 65 different kinds of wrong.

"NOOOOO!" she shouts, "You're LYING!" She does not want to believe that she will grow up and meet a stranger and then fall madly in love. Her brother is her prince. He is her sun and her moon and the person she loves most in the world.

"OK, fine, Nate will be the dad," I acquiesce. She is relieved and rolls over as I sing her a song.

"But mum, I have to tell you. I think I'm going to wait until I'm at least six to have a baby. OK mum?"


"No problem Lucy. In fact, if you could at least wait until you're 26 and you're finished school, I'd be really happy."

"OK, mum. Goodnight."


************************************************

I never got a push present for the birth of either of my kids. I did get stitches and stretch marks, and while a prezzie would have been a nice way to acknowledge my efforts, I got the best gift of all, a husband who cares about his kids and works as hard (if not harder) as their mom to ensure that they are happy and experiencing life to the fullest.

On SweetMama today, I'm asking what you think of Push Presents. Feel free to go over and let me know in the comments.

Arcade Fire's "Rococo" Interpreted a la Family Silverthorne

Yes, this is one of those posts, where I post a video and hope you'll forgive me for not writing.

We are aging hipsters. We used to be really fucking culturally relevant. Now we are every parenting cliche. Karate classes and swimming classes and ballet classes. I am officially a soccer mom, insofar that I watch my son attempt to kick a ball across a gym every Sunday. There are birthday parties and school fundraisers and all I talk about are my kids. What happened to us?

We used to go to concerts and shows. We used to hit the record stores on College and Queen Street, rush home with our new disc and spend a night drinking and listening and absorbing. Nowadays, we're excited when we discover an album that speaks to us and the kids and all the cool kids in between our two generations. It's like the world forgives us for breeding and getting lamer and older.

Like you, I downloaded Google Chrome last year and plugged in my first address and watched Arcade Fire's video for "The Wilderness Downtown." We weren't new fans. The first album came out when I still cared that my shoes were from the current season. But like you, I had goosebumps on the back of my neck as Google Earth showed my Scarborough townhouse complex, my first public school...

"The Suburbs" landed in our car and has been on steady play for months. Not a soul is tired of hearing it. I don't know when it happened, but at some point over the winter, possibly before Arcade Fire won a Grammy and blew up into superstardom, my kids heard the song "Rococo" and thought it said "More Cocoa." The idea marinated.

Then came the Bunch Family Luminato Fam Jam contest. My colleague Jes emailed it to me with a note that said, "I wish your fam would do one of these."

So we did. Arcade Fire, if you come across this, we love you.

When your kid wants to quit

Originally published on Sweetspot.ca

Saturday morning, breakfast table, PJ-ed kids and Cheerios, the sloshing of milk on the teak table...I look at the time: 9am. "OK kids, put your dishes in the sink and head upstairs. Nate, get in your karate uniform."

"But I hate karate. I don't want to go." A flood of tears.

Right before his second karate class, my kid had a meltdown. The reason? He's terrified of his instructor.

Ten minutes into the first class, I knew we were going to have a problem. Sensai Rick is old school, strict and, on first meeting, not unlike the mean sensai from the originalKarate Kid. He's a drill sargeant and karate class felt more like boot camp than an empowering lesson in respect and discipline.

My other experience with karate was such a positive one. Canadian champion, Rob Tallack, has developed a fantastic, interactive home fitness program around karate that promotes the values I'd hoped Nate would get out of a class. We've done the DVD at home a bunch of times and love that there's an online element that reinforces and encourages kids to keep up the good work. Rob himself is a kind and generous person, the kind of person who has "role model" written all over him. Sensai Rick seemed like a bully in comparison.

But the truth is, kids these days are just not used to anyone speaking to them sternly. After fighting tears the entirety of the first class (mostly due to embarrassment: "He kept coming up to me to show me how to do it!"), Nate begged me not to return. "What are you going to do?" friends asked. Like always, I was kind of on the fence. While I didn't want to crush his soft soul, I hesitated to rescue him. For one, we'd paid for nine classes, and for two, I wasn't going to be able to protect him from bullies, mean and unpleasant people forever. Wasn't there a lesson to be learned here?

As my son cried in my arms, I dried his tears and told him what I'd decided. "Nate, I think you have a unique opportunity here to find the strength within yourself to get through situations like this in the future. The sensai isn't going to hurt you, you're in a safe environment and I'm in the room the entire time. But you have to find the courage inside to turn this into a positive."

Yeah, that sounds like "Mom of the Year" stuff, but he still cried, the whole way there, right up to the beginning of class.

Eight barefoot laps around the gym to help break down his mental barrier, followed by Sensai Rick sensing Nate's sensitivity (see a pattern here?) and assigning a slightly older blue belt to coach him...when class ended my son bounded toward me with a huge smile. The mom next to me gave me a good tip, which I dropped on him right away. "Do you notice when Sensai Rick sounds mean, he has a little bit of a smirk underneath? That's because he really loves kids, but doesn't want anyone to know. It's a secret."

Nate seemed to appreciate this. Then I took it one step further. "Let's go and give Sensai Rick a high-five and thank him for the class." Hesitantly, he approached the sensai and a meek "thank you" came out. What happened next was completely unexpected. Sensai Rick launched into a gentle verbal lesson about practicing until he got it right; about how it had taken him forever until he got the rolls down pat; and he made my son laugh. Sold. 

"How was karate class?" his dad asked later that day. "Great!" exalted the soft city boy who'd just found his inner Ralph Macchio. "Phew!" thought the mom who took a guess at parenting and got it right for once.

Now if only I could work the same magic for swimming lessons.

Has your child ever begged to quit a class? How did you deal with it?