Mama's Musings

Discovering Galileo

Having your kids surf the Internet without parental controls is like hopping on the highway without your seatbelt. Not a good idea.

KidZui is a great family-friendly web portal I discovered several months ago. Celebrating its one-year anniversary, KidZui conducted a research study on kids' internet usage. The most astounding finding? 86% of parents surveyed said that using the Internet increased their kids’ curiosity and desire to learn.

Other key findings include:

•       The Amazing Animals and Science channel received more visits than Hannah Montana.
•       Sites about the Olympic Games were viewed more than High School Musical.
•       Information on Dinosaurs and Tornadoes was looked at more than Bratz dolls or the Jonas Brothers.
•       Content related to “civil rights leaders” was visited 15,979 times, just 24 visits less than Taylor Swift.
•       Kids were more interested in Astronomy than Transformers.
•       Spelling sites were visited more than Spider-Man.
•       Content about Barack Obama was more popular than Santa Claus.

So whoever said the Internet was only about pop culture? Numbers don't lie.

The most amazing thing has happened in our household, too. Both kids really love Galileo, a science show that comes on at 7 pm weekdays. I'm not certain if it has something to do with stretching out bedtime, but the reality is it's educational. And for that, I'm willing to turn a blind eye to the clock...

Momshell Revisited

So I get an email from someone alerting me to this post about momshells and the concern about the definition of 'sexy' and can we please be careful how we call people. NewChristianVoices blogger Caron Guillo writes:

"Are these people seriously suggesting I’m expected to be sexy on top of everything else? Puh-lease!

If that’s the case, then on behalf of moms everywhere, I’d like to suggest we overthrow the traditional definition of “sexy,” staging a vocabulary coup, if you will. Is it not bad enough that the term “Desperate Housewives” has been hijacked by Hollywood?

I’ll toss out a few suggestions to get us started.

A sexy mom:

Laughs. A lot.
Is smart.
Can run a vacuum with a baby on her hip.
Plans awesome vacations on a tight budget.
Is brave.
Puts makeup on three days out of seven.
Teaches her kids pretend languages.
Takes her children out in the middle of the night to watch meteor showers. And packs hot chocolate.
Works to support the family.
Stays home to raise the kids.

I'm game. And then I left a comment because quite frankly it is fun to engage in a dialogue about these things. I wrote:

A rose is still a rose, if called by another name. Got to love Shakespeare!

The Associated Press recently interviewed me about the term momshell. It is merely another trendy word to describe what has existed for eons - fabulous, powerful women doing the very best they can in all areas of their lives.

Who can remember all the minutae of their children's day, much less their own, cook a great meal, keep the house (and said children) clean, and run a successful business all at once (or pretty darn simultaneously)?

Moms.

That people appreciate your lusciousness is not objectifying. We know we're hot - with or without curlers on our heads!

Getting caught up in words is a bit like arguing about color. Everyone has their preference so who cares? My kids have often worn a worrisome combination of shades to school. It doesn't really matter. It's not about 'anything goes', but about going with the flow and realizing this trend shall pass. I'm proud to be a hot mom. There's nothing shameful about it. After all, remember what made us moms in the first place?

And the truth of it is we are all moms that come in different shapes and sizes and religious/spiritual/agnostic slants. I believe in redefining ourselves as we deem fit. You don't have to measure yourself against anyone but your own self.

And that's the truth, y'all.

Snark Attack - Home Alone

My kids are at that age where they have started to like being home alone. To a certain extent. Mom has to run an errand? Without me! Dad's gone until 5 pm? Perfect. We've been able to get away to the theater on a Friday night once -- at the kids' request.

"You go have a good time. We're going to have fun kid time!" It was a win-win and bowled us over til Sunday.

I am actually quite confident my kids can handle a certain amount of home alone time. They know how to reach me or their father in case of emergency, we have plenty of neighbors who could lend a helping hand in immediate situations, and there comes a time when getting a babysitter to attend a parent-teacher meeting seems counterintuitive.

But when it comes to having friends over when we are not here or, for that matter, going to an unsupervised household at a friend's place, I remain firm. I let my daughter go to a friend's house without adult supervision for an hour before the mother came home once. It went fine, but that's because her younger brother (read: hyper-energetic bundle of boyness) wasn't there.

So when my daughter got invited to that same girl's house with the promise that her father would get home two hours after they did and the likelihood that the brother would be there, too, I asked to speak to an adult in the house. The mother got on the phone, not promising me her husband really would be home on time. "Who knows when he'll really arrive. He said 3 pm..." That's when I backpedaled. I explained I didn't think my daughter was up for it. She started to question every word I said until I cut off the conversation by saying "This is the third interruption in the last ten minutes. First, the chimney sweeper. Then a neighbor. Now this. I have to cook. Bah-bye now..." and I hung up the phone. I felt awful, but the woman just couldn't hear anything other than what she wanted to hear -- that her own kids wouldn't be alone all afternoon.

I talked to my kids about it. They agreed it felt strange to be in a situation that didn't feel safe. What truly matters is what my kids feel and think. The rest of the world can go jump in the lagoon!

Cycle Fever

Spring is in the air, and it is bike season once again in the Hohlbaum household. You can forget parking the car in the garage. It becomes the kids' domain the moment the first crocus breathes above ground.

So when I found out about Willie Cromack, CEO of Cyclebetes (www.cyclebetes.com), principal of John Henry Bikes (www.johnhenrybikes.com), and author of "Hire Me!", I got excited. In addition to his books, Willie's platform includes a Guinness World Record for the fastest cross Canada cycle in relay format. Now he might not embrace the power of slow when he hops on his ten-speed, but he does it for a good cause.

Willie is living powerfully in the face of today's economic crisis as the CEO of Cyclebetes which combines his passions for youth leadership, cycling and finding a cure for juvenile diabetes. A firm believer that we all are responsible to "do something" when things aren't as they should be, Willie lives life to make a difference in the world. So he deserves some love today. Check out his sites. Get excited about biking. And think how you might make an impact on two wheels, too.

Blame it on the Recession

Have you noticed how everyone seems to be blaming everything on the state of the economy these days?

My hair looks flat.

Blame it on the recession.

I have a jowly look when I glance in the mirror.

Blame it on the recession.

My kids don't listen to me.

Blame it on...

You get the picture.

I don't know about you, but I'm getting doggone tired of all this economy talk. As if it is the only driving force in our lives.

I realize things aren't rainbow-colored. The economic forecasts are as gloomy as the English meterological ones. Rain, dark clouds, the whole nine yards.

But where is the joy, people?

So your hair is flat, your chin has lost its battle with your neck, and your children are less than perfect.

Where there are rain clouds, there are rainbows not far behind. I hate to sound all Hallmark-y on you, but the truth of the matter is we have a lot of choice in the matter. How we view things depends on us. This CBS report proves it.

Watch CBS Videos Online

It's a Better World through BetterWorldBooks.com

This site moved me because a) I love kids; b) I love books; and c) I love the Earth. It's a triple whammy, and if you love animals, you'll know at least two of the three have something to do with them. A new for-profit online bookstore with a social and environmental company (and with free US shipping or $3.97 worldwide), BetterWorldBooks.com avoids books landing in the dumpster and into landfills.

   - Thusfar BWB has spared over 6,000 TONS from getting plopped into landfills;
    - it offsets shipping environmental costs with carbon offsets from CarbonFund.org; and
    - it avoids the minvan ride to the local Barnes & Noble for a "virgin pulp" new hardback. I know you all like the smell of bookstores. So do I. And that won't go away. Just delve your nose into your newly purchased BWB book to get the same effect.     
 
And as if that wasn't enough, here are some other bonuses:
 
    - BWB books are up to 80% cheaper than new ones
    - Shipping is free!
    - Better World shares its revenues with important literacy groups like Books for Africa.

By shopping on BetterWorldBooks.com, a mom will be doing something good for the environment, teaching her children to reuse resources when possible, and helping another child somewhere in the world learn to read to boot.

Mother's Day Idea: Book Giveaway

Because I believe in sharing the love, I'm doing another giveaway. Mother's Day is coming up and the below would make the.best.gift.

Chicken Soup for the Soul: Like Mother, Like Daughter (September 2008 $14.95) is offering two free books. The cool news is Target is offering them, too, at a special discounted price so if you don't win, you can dash over to your nearest Tar-schey for some soul-soothing fun.

From borrowed outfits to goofy mannerisms, there is a time when most women must sheepishly admit, "I'm turning into my mother."  But while our uncanny connections can draw us closer, sometimes these similarities can drive us up the wall. To help your readers navigate to complexities of their mother-daughter relationships, Chicken Soup for the Soul: Like Mother, Like Daughter, (Chicken Soup for the Soul, September 30, 2008, 978-1935096-07-8, $14.95) provides a collection of stories written by moms and daughters on maternal wisdom, raising teenage girls, becoming friends with Mom, grandmothers, granddaughters, and more.

Enter to win by leaving a comment here and subscribing to my newsletter (if you don't already):

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What's a momshell?

"Never leave the house without your lipstick and pearls," my grandmother would say. As long as you had those things, she claimed, you were considered fully dressed. She was of an era of up-dos and crinolin. She had class, style, and charisma.

The Associated Press recently asked me what I thought about the term 'momshell'. Quite honestly, I had never heard of the word before. But it says a lot about self-care today. We women want to be visible even when we have children.

I remember the first time I felt invisible. All eyes were on the baby, and I was the backdrop. It felt strange, and oddly comforting, as if I didn't have to be on display anymore, sporting a size 4 or sucking in my stomach to look like all those 18-year-old models. Being pregnant liberated me from belts and other restrictive clothing.

Then came the transition into toddlerhood, when the children and my parenting became more transparent. Their behavior reflected on me, and suddenly I became centerstage again. Only this time the stage was cluttered with rotten tomatoes thrown at us non-perfect moms.

Momshells are women who care for themselves, who want to look and feel good. I mentioned Michelle Obama as an example of someone who is beautiful inside and out and who has made the sacrifices of motherhood more visible. That, to me, is beauty in motion. And a dash of lipstick couldn't hurt.

A letter to my kids

I originally posted this on DarynKagan.com. Perhaps you might enjoy it, too.

~~

Dear Kids,

I know it's not easy living in a country that doesn't speak your mother tongue (or your mother's tongue, for that matter). But you speak their language beautifully, and even when the teacher gets mad that you've not conformed the way she wants you to, you keep that gorgeous spirit of triumph and creativity alive.

Thank you for being such great friends to those who love you, even when you don't get along. You are learning to treat each other with kindness, and that's not always easy. Thank you for noticing what it means to treat people with dignity, such as when that man dropped his groceries at the top of the escalator and I gave him my shopping bag so he had something to carry them in. I loved how your eyes lit up with recognition and how you reminded me of it days later.

Thank you for saying "Go to the theater, we'll be just fine" and meaning it.

Thank you for doing your homework without my asking, then thanking me for giving you the space to decide when to do it.

Thank you for cleaning your rooms and generating positive energy in our living space.

Thank you for asking for one more Bubbly Bobbly story. He loves mischief, and so do you!

Thank you for hugging me just when I need it and for asking for a hug when you need one, too.

Thank you for the extra play money when we play Monopoly just to make it more fun  (and affordable!).

Thank you for the care you give the guinea pigs, who we all know are children #3 & #4.

Thank you for the pictures you draw that depict your mind's eye. It is beautiful. In fact, so are you.

With all my love,
Mama

This ain't funny

I've looked under the bed. I've scoured my purse, the junk drawer, and even the storage closet. I've searched high. I've searched low. I've even lifted the underside of the doormat outside our house. It's not hiding with all those pairless socks stuffed deep in the abyss of the couch cushions. It's not huddling with the stale popcorn mashed into the carpet. It is nowhere to be found.

There's no doubt now. It's not here. It has taken a one-way ticket to the moon. I've officially lost my sense of humor.

The gradual chipping away of my whimsy harks back to the day I tried a little too hard to be friends with people who don't really like me. I mean, they don't exactly feel searing hatred bursting from their breasts; it's more a subtle ambivalence and an unsettling disquiet about what I do, who I am, and what interests I pursue versus what they do. Already I feel doomed to failure for even trying to explain what I mean without falling into the danger of platitudes and merciless defensiveness. But I will attempt it nonetheless because my intrinsic optimism tells me there are more people out there like me than I think.

We are the square pegs pressing ourselves fruitlessly into round holes, and we've got the dent marks to show for it.

I moved to Germany with a sense of dread because it is not where I am from, nor do I jive with every aspect of the dominating mentality. Nonetheless, I consider myself to be somewhat of a cosmopolitan personality so a dash of difference doesn't typically throw me off. I embrace diversity. The challenge is being with people who do not.

What I have learned from this transition into a deeper sense of self drifting aimlessly amongst rural Bavarian folk is happiness dwells within. It also comes from within, not from the outside, which is subject to the avarce or generosity of others.

The paradox lies in the fact we all need each other. A sense of community is incredibly important. Try as I might, I have yet to find that community of souls in my immediate surroundings. I get flashes of light from one person or the other, depending on the time of day. But for the most part, I get the sense I am entitled to their opinion, which they give freely. One mother told me on Friday: "You know, I would never raise my children the way you do..."

Wow.

So I have begun to pat myself down, lift under rocks and poke in that yucky box in the forlorn corner of the garage to find that sense of humor I once so richly had. I know it's here somewhere. Perhaps if I fly home, wherever that is, I will find it once again.