“Work’s fine, it’s Facebook that’s the problem,” she said with a tone of exasperation in her voice.

After some probing, it seemed that she had spent the better part of the last three weeks connected to Facebook as a source of sanity.  “I never used it before my maternity leave.  Now, I can’t get off of it. I’m an addict.” 

Apparently, Facebook has become the primary way for moms, especially those holed up during the long winter hibernation to stay connected with one another.  “Without Facebook, I would lose my mind.  It’s the only way I know what’s going on in my friend’s lives,” she went on to say.  Keyboard clicking in the background.

Being a proud member of the Facebook community, I decided to go trolling for status updates in and amongst the parenting set.  Here’s what I found:

Sally “is waiting for the husband to come home.  And he better back me up on this one.”

Julie “just tried to cut her own bangs.  With safety scissors.  Needs a day at the salon, but is too embarrassed now.”

Connie “needs a break.  From everyone.  Except Facebook.”

John “just spent half an hour fishing tub toys out of the toilet.”

Beth “is considering duct tape as a parenting device.”  

Jen “thinks that if talking back were her son’s job, he’d be eligible for a raise.”

Liz “can’t believe the price of braces.  And when did they start coming in colors?”

Sheila “thinks people share too much on Facebook.  When did posting pictures of your latest surgery become necessary?”

And my favorite:

Shawn “just got home to a smiling daughter who was screaming, “I love you Daddy!” … the rest of the day’s stress just wiped away.”  

Facebook: not just for career ending photographs and Farmville anymore.

You know, put something together or something.

The problem is, I spent her last 2 birthdays planning elaborate home birthday parties—with THEMES—and going all out birthday insanity style. For instance, last year I made invitations that looked like real jungle safari passports, complete with small photo of the invited friend. We had safari hats, play binoculars and a hunt for hidden animal figurines in the backyard. Clearly, I was sick in the head and bitten by some rabid animal.

This year, my creative party-planning brain seems to be AWOL.  (Apparently, this part of the brain also took the Motivation to Clean and Serenity Now parts of the brain along with it.) 

I got nothing. Nothing left. 

Then, Elise announced one day this week, “Mommy. It’s almost my birthday and I REALLY want to have my birthday at “Chuck E Cheese.” PLEASE?!?!?”

I froze.  My first reaction was sheer panic/horror. But then, I wondered if this might just be my ticket to freedom.

While normally, I wouldn’t wish a Chuck E Cheese birthday party on anyone—that place gives me a perma-seizure —the thought of being able to have a birthday party where I don’t have to plan every last detail out weeks ahead of time is very appealing. Yes, I may need to premedicate myself with a couple of Advil and I may need to fight the urge to engage in self-defense when a man wearing a large mouse costume tries to put his paws on me, but *whisper* it would be easier. 

Plus, I looked over at Elise’s sweet face, silently begging me to say yes and make all of her 5^th birthday party dreams come true.

“Sure,” I said. “We can do it there.”

Famous last words I hope not to regret.

I have the antidote. Assuming you’re lucky enough to have owned some video recording device over the past several years, that is.

Put in some home movies, sit down and really watch them.

Recently I’ve had a bit of a bad attitude about parenting. Or, I should say that daily I flip-flop multiple times between contented appreciation and grumbling dissatisfaction.

One day recently, however, Milo and Belle found an old DVD they wanted to watch. Of themselves. They popped it in and I stopped what I was doing (undoubtedly picking socks off the floor or folding something), mesmerized.

There were Milo and Belle, three years younger, with chubbier cheeks and warbly voices and earnest little faces. Watching it all unfurl on TV, I could stand back and see, actually see my children. It turns out that they weren’t, in fact, trying to make my life miserable. They weren’t whining and clinging because they hated me and wanted me to suffer. They were whining and clinging because they were one and three. Because they were sad or tired or feeling ignored.

And there I was, too. An exhausted mom of toddlers, coming across as a little glum. My smiles were small and tired. I could be heard laughing here and there, but they were hollow peals of laughter. I thought, that looks hard. That woman on the TV seems overwhelmed. Why couldn’t I have cut myself more of a break? Why did I think I had to be in constant motion: cooking, cleaning, bustling kids around?

That, my friends, is the miracle of video. Perspective.

If you haven’t lately dusted off the old DVDs or VHS cassettes of you and your children in earlier days, do so. It’s guaranteed to improve your outlook and restore your gratitude.

In the category of “The things Lisa does to entertain herself and others while paying for her many trips to Trader Joes” I’ve recently started teaching a creative drama class for pre-schoolers. For an hour I have the pleasure of telling stories, singing songs, wiggling around and making crafts alongside a delightful group of twelve 3-year-olds. It’s become apparent, however, how complacent I’ve gotten - used to communicating with my children as if they were small adults – and I’ve lost track of some of the cardinal rules of early childhood. For example, putting two containers of glue on the table for three children to share will not work (glue is a prized possession and one must have total control, or suffer the shrieking consequences). No matter how engaging the story may be, if it goes to long, they are outta’ there. There is no sitting quietly out of politeness. Putting on a costume for dress up time is easy – talking a child into taking it off even after all the other children have gone home, not so much.

On the other hand, the playing is extraordinary. We jump around and act like monkeys. Not a single child rolls her eyes and carefully checks firsts to see if the other children are jumping. There are no “frienemies” in pre-school. There are no monosyllabic answers in pre-school like “fine” “yeah” or “meh”. Ask a pre-schooler how his day was and he’ll actually tell you. And, joyfully, there is wonder in these children – a simple blue blanket can become the ocean, a cave, a cape, a fort or a river. Paper masks are transformative. It doesn’t take much to impress.

So, while I wouldn’t trade the time I spend with my big kids at home – the conversations we have, the jokes we trade, the PG-13 movies we can watch together – I feel very lucky that I get to travel back, even for a short time, to this wondrous place of early childhood.

Just so long as we don’t have to share the glue.

This is a great hand-clapping, rhyming book for toddlers. Our 21-month old asks for it by name (almost): “Mack!” The tune may be familiar – it’s existed as a playground rhyme for some time, and as a folk song since the Civil War era (thanks, Wikipedia!). The repetition may drive some parents mad, but little tots seem to like it. (And that’s what the chorus in a song is all about.)

The illustrations are bright, with lots of things to point to and talk about. You can turn it into meandering story on your own, if you don’t care for the rhyme. We have the board book edition, which doesn’t have the hand-jive instructions or the tune, but you can find either of those on the online if you so desire. We just make up our own.

Silly Sally by Audrey Wood

A fun rhyming story chronicling the physically impossible adventures of Silly Sally, who dances backwards, upside down. The watercolor illustrations are very cartoon-like, and tots will like to point out each animal Sally meets on her way to town. This one is suitable for toddlers up to preschoolers.

The Napping House by Audrey Wood

Another one by Audrey Wood and a great pre-nap or bedtime book, this one may leave you sleepy as well. It’s set on a drizzly day, the kind that evokes naps in even the most stalwart of non-nappers. Each person and creature in the house successively piles on the bed for a little snooze (grandma, granddaughter, dog, cat, mouse), until a wakeful flea disturbs the peace. The illustrations are beautiful, the story is fun, and even older kids will enjoy it.