Chanumas my friends and neighbors, but please stop asking my son if Santa brought him anything this Christmas especially after I sent Latkas, Chocolate Gelt, and egreetings from Isaac and Neil Diamond for Chanukah.

My son is not even three and I am trying to teach him about the holiday spirit by collecting coats for a community coat drive, baking homemade gifts for his teachers, and taking joy in playing music for his relatives on Skype.

I can handle your "Merry Christmases" after years of learning not to take it personally that everyone assumes that everyone celebrates Christmas, but please let me keep my son out of the consumer world as long as I can.

It really bothers me that this time of year, the USA stands for the United States of Advertising.

My son is obsessed with all things "Why."

Of course I knew this day would come, and frankly, I love it.

"Mama has to go to work today"

"Why?"

"So I can make some money"

"Why?"

"So I can buy groceries and clothes for us"

And the 'why's' continue until bedtime, but I don't mind because I know his mind is a sponge, and the memory of an elephant.

Today he woke up, grabbed a quarter from his piggy bank and brought it to me while I was making breakfast.

"Mama, can I have some cereal?"

Wow, he did make the connection.

I am so impressed that I run to call his Granny and tell her that she has a brilliant grandson.

Her reaction convinced me that either I am already starting to give my son money issues, or I am running a sweat shop in my own home.

Nice.

I am not a big fan of the Octomom, and frankly all the news coverage annoyed and continues to annoy me, but I have to say, seeing her in her Halloween costume, made me think,

hmmm  . . .

She is kind of funny.

And even more funny was all the outrage in the press.  Really?  Lighten up.  It's Halloween.  You should be more offended by the half naked women who parade around, and the slave labor that made the plastic Wal Mart costumes your kiddies all wore.

I always wondered what my mom talked about at her 'tupperware parties' when I was little.

I am guessing it must have either been something like this:

http://www.truuconfessions.com/channels/Mom

or an underground feminist meeting.

 Most likely, a bit of both.

I am reading Mommy Wars

A book of essays about working mom's vs. stay at home mom's and their struggles and judgements of themselves and others.

We all have our thoughts and judgments of how others raise their children while we struggle to make choices and find a balance that works for our own family.

Since most days we all need to transform into a Cirque de Soleil performer to twist and balance in the ways necessary to get through the day, it boggles my mind that we have teh energy or time to worry about what others are doing.

Sure, our definitions of 'family', 'parenthood' and 'raising children' differ, but if we would all learn to close our mouths, listen, and refrain from judging others even for a few minutes, we might see that despite the different verbage we use, we are all doing what we think is best, and our goals are the same; to raise well adjusted, smart, inquisitive, and responsible children who will go out into the world with their gifts and leave it better than they found it.

Though people, and often the societies where we live, want to ask us pointed questions about our life choices just to put us in a box so they can move on to devour and compartmentalize other people and ideas and spread their universal knowledge of 'the truth' on many issues, I don't think things are that simple or black and white.

No one I know fits into just one box.

(Except perhaps my son who is currently obsessed with climbing into boxes- I wish someone would have told me not to buy store bought toys when boxes, tupperware, and household kitchen objects do the trick just fine.)

Despite all the messages we are 'fed' from our TVs, and radios to divide us, I search each day for common ground despite conventional wisdom and many in the media hoping that we never find any.

Perhaps those of us with the same goals can create our own language, music and version of Cirque Du Soleil that celebrates the common ground so many of us feel but never hear about.

“I finally got Peter potty trained,” said my friend Sara.“Wow, that’s great” I said nearly choking, and then thinking to myself, ‘he’s four right. . . I will have to kill myself if Samson is still in diapers at 4’.

Just then, I stopped, knowing that I must take a step back and ‘check’ myself.

Every time I judge another mom or think that I could do things better, it bites me in the butt. (On occasion it is just a playful nibble, but usually it leaves bite marks for weeks.)

Though I do not consider myself a superstitious person, I do know that this little talked about cardinal rule has proven itself many, many times over. So, I braced myself in case any instant karma might be flung my way, but luckily I was spared for 24 hours.

“Oh. . .so he’s your O-N-L-Y child?” said a fellow mountain mama brethren refusing to close her eyelids until I answered just so she could mock me further.

Did I miss the day that the motherhood rule book was handed out stating: Only child = so sad for the child, mother not living up to her breeder potential?

Ok, so maybe being a mom has made me a little more sensitive.

No matter what anyone tells you, we were all better parents before we actually had kids.

Things bothered us less, and we had a perfect track record and lots of rules that we knew we were going to stand by, and all the answers for success.

Then life happens and things fall by the waste side when you are in the day to day trenches.

I will not give my child a pacifier GUILTY
I will not fight with my husband in front of our son GUILTY
I will not let him my son eat in his car seat or stroller GUILTY
I will turn into June Cleaver NOT EVEN CLOSE

I tried to channel the old TV mothers and to read the parenting magazines, but both sent me into a depression since none of the women from the screen or pages resembled me, nor could I relate to any of them. I felt a bit incompetent taking care of things at home since I had taken shop in Junior High to meet boys instead of home ec. I felt bad as a working mom that I could not prepare organic meals 24 / 7 or have the time to teach my son 30 bilingual words by 5 months.

I planned to breast feed anywhere and everywhere despite what anyone thought; I strung an old guitar and bought an awesome rocking chair so I could sing my son to sleep each night; I listened to hypnosis tapes to gear up for the possibility of natural childbirth despite my fears, so of course my milk never came in, my son wants to be put in bed at night and left alone, and I had to have an emergency c-section three weeks early.


Sometimes, the powers that be have an interesting sense of humor.

I guess what I am saying is that things never go as we plan, and despite our differences or beliefs, we mom’s need to stick together and support each other much more than we do.

Suddenly I feel the need to call all the mothers before me and apologize for any past judgments or insensitive comments I may have made in the hopes that my son will learn to pee IN the potty consistently before his third birthday.