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DotMoms makes the New York Times

DotMoms, along with many other parenting blogs, was featured in today's New York Times article, Mommy (and Me) by David Hochman. It's an interesting take on the parenting blog phenomena.

Bearing life, fearing death (DotMoms)

When the Iraq war started days after Lucie's birth, all I could think of was Iraqi mothers and their children. I wondered how I would keep my children safe, let alone fed, sheltered and clean if I was in a war zone. I contemplated what was happening to families as our troops marched into their country. I searched for news stories on women and children, and I worried obsessively. Knowing this behavior was part of my usual post-partum anxiety, I stopped watching and reading the headlines for a couple of months.

Later, when I read accounts of mothers and children involved in car crashes or fires, my anxiety reawakened. I scanned the newspaper trying to find out how the mothers saved their children and imagined worst case scenarios in my head. Could I get Nathan and Lucie out of our burning house? How quickly could I get them out of their car seats if I accidentally drove into a pond? I felt the worrying would somehow mentally prepare me or possibly even prevent disasters from happening. Call it magical thinking, I guess.

Then the tsunamis hit Southeast Asia. Again I imagined myself in that horrible situation. Would I be able to grab the kids and run from the waves? Then I saw the interview with Jillian Searle of Perth, Australia on ABC's nightly news. A mother of two children close in age to mine, she grabbed them and ran, only to be caught up by the rushing water. She felt if she didn't let go of one of the children, she'd drown. "I knew I had to let go of one of them and I just thought I'd better let go of the one that's the oldest," she told Sky News. Thankfully, her older son was found safe two hours later, having survived by clinging to a door.

When I related this story over the phone to my mother, she started crying. I then realized the biggest fear we mothers face is being unable to save our children from death. We enter motherhood giving life, but ready for its loss as well.

New year's resolutions (DotMoms)

I remember reading a letter to one of the national advice columns in the newspaper. It was from a woman who wrote that her recent car accident was the best thing that ever happened to her.

Always the perfect housekeeper and mother, she was forced to spend weeks in bed recovering and rarely left her bedroom. She could no longer keep her house and children spotless and organized, and had to turn over those duties to others. The only thing she could do was read to her children.

Before her accident, she was too busy to spend one-on-one time with them. Yes, she was often alone with her kids in the car on the way to school or sports activities, but she was never really there. Instead she was mentally checking off and thinking about the next item on her "to do" list.

After her accident, she found herself really spending time with her children. Not only was she reading to them, but talking and listening as well. She started getting close to her children and they to her. They formed a bond they hadn't shared since the kids were babies. And she realized that a tidy home and perfect-looking and perfectly-behaving kids weren't the signs of a good mother. Instead, being close to her children and getting to know them as individuals was.

This year, I needed to mentally take time away from my children and focus on myself. My volunteer work enabled me to meet new people, make friends, and build up my resume. Writing intellectually challenged me and kept me sane. Even though I was physically with my children 24/7, I know my mind was somewhere else -- on the various things on my "to do" list, on the next piece I was writing, or on the book I was reading.

But now it's time to turn my attention back to my children. So next year, I vow to cut back somewhat on the writing and volunteering (working smarter, I think it's called) and spend more time in the NOW of being with my kids. I think we'll all be better off for it.

Mr. Bunny (DotMoms)

It's wonderful seeing my children's attachment to a stuffed animal. Maybe it's because I had a special friend, too, named Baby Bear. I received her as a present from a friend of my mother's for my first Christmas. Nearly 40 years later, she sits on a rocking chair in Lucie's room. She's been to France, day camp and college with me. She even attended my wedding held by my best-friend-from-childhood, Suzanne.

Mr. Bunny, or just "Bunny," is Nathan's special stuffed animal. He's had him since he was two after losing the original bunny, a 7" Manhattan Toy Company Tip Toes Betty Bunny, during a trip to San Diego. Originally a present from my sister, I was unable to find another one. However, I did locate a bigger 18" version online. I wasn't sure how Nathan would react to the bigger bunny as he was just getting attached to the smaller one. However, he didn't seem too upset when the bunny was lost.

I'll never forget the day the UPS man dropped off the package. I opened it in the living room and when I pulled out Bunny, Nathan came running over with a huge smile on his face. He grabbed Bunny from me and gave him a big hug. They've been inseparable ever since.

After nearly three years of heavy loving, Bunny's fur is just about gone. He's basically a bunny-shaped nylon stocking, and so threadbare his stuffing can be seen through what's left of his hide. Because he's so fragile, I make sure that Bunny wears Nathan and Lucie's old preemie outfits. They keep what's left of him protected while reminding me how small my big kids once were.

Lucie has also become a Bunny fan. She'll grab Bunny, and give him a big squeeze and a kiss. When I tell her that's Nathan's Bunny, she says, "Mine too!"

Lately, it seemed that Nathan was beginning to leave Bunny behind except for sleeping at night. But a couple of weeks ago, Nathan came into my room and announced, "Bunny's sick. He's got a bad tummy and threw up." At first I thought that Nathan was feeling ill and using Bunny as a way to tell me. No, he was fine. Nathan just wanted to have some fun and give Bunny some attention (and get a little in return).

We changed Bunny's outfit, put a matching hat on him, and took him in the car on the way to preschool. After all, Bunny's just another member of the family. Why shouldn't he come along?

Bottle baby boogie (DotMoms)

Before most people have kids, they can name several things they'd never allow once they become parents. Mine were:

1) No Barney. However, Lucie loves Barney. How can I deny her an enjoyable musical activity? Plus she's so damn cute when she sings and dances along with the TV.

2) No excessive candy eating. Nathan is so skinny, I'm just happy that he's consuming some extra calories. Even so, we insist that he eat something healthy first.

3) No snotty noses or messy mouths. Well, a messy face is a lot quieter than the screaming I get when I'm wiping away all the assorted goo.

4) No children running around with a bottle in their mouths. If you can walk, you can use a sippy cup.

Compromise and parenthood go hand in hand. Yet, it's number 4 I'm having the most problems with. Nathan didn't give up the bottle until he was well past two. Due to his prematurity, reflux and low muscle tone, he gagged on most food. Unless it was slimy, he wouldn't eat it.

Since toddlers cannot thrive eating only canned peaches, pudding, yogurt and spaghetti (though they'd like to) Nathan drank toddler formula for most of his nutritional needs. Even so, with the help of his occupational therapist, and a very snuffed up nose, I weaned him off his bottle without much fuss.

It's Lucie I'm worried about. At almost 20 months, she can drink from a sippy cup, a regular cup and anything with a straw. If you don't watch out, she'll take a swig from your beer bottle. Yet she loves her bottle or "baa-baa" as she calls it. It's a must have when she wakes up, is tired, cranky, bored or not feeling well. This means she's drinking from a bottle most of the day.

I avoid bring up her baa-baa addiction with the pediatrician, scared of a bad mommy lecture. I try justifying it to myself thinking, "Well, she doesn't use a pacifier. She doesn't suck her thumb. She isn't dependent on a favorite blanket or doll. She can have the damn baa-baa for now." Yet I hoard articles on weaning children from bottles, knowing it's inevitable.

Slowly I see her being less dependent on it. The day's first bottle, which used to be drained in 15 minutes, now takes all morning to be consumed. Between playing, rocking out with Barney, and eating breakfast, it's not her biggest priority. Even in the car, where she loves to drink and be driven, she needs it less.

Lucie and her baa-baa have had a long love affair. However, it's time to get a baa-baa divorce. I'm giving her until she's two, then it's cold turkey baby.

Every day is Halloween (DotMoms)

Having grown up in post-WW II France, my mother thought Halloween was a crazy American ritual, believing trick or treaters were extortionist begging for candy. Still she participated in the holiday with gusto, decorating pumpkins and dressing up us kids.

By the time I was in grade school, my mother helped me create Halloween costumes that reflected my interests. I was passionate about all things Native American, so she hand-sewed a Pocahontas-style dress that I decorated with glued-on beads. In junior high, I fell in love with ancient Egypt, so we put together a Cleopatra costume, complete with bed sheet toga, funky jewelry, and an old wig of hers that she dyed black and cut into Elizabeth Taylor-style bangs.

However, I stopped participating in Halloween once I entered high school. What was the point? Since I was in my punk rock/new romantic phase, I was always dressing up, whether it was spiky hairdos or full Adam Ant war paint. Later on, when I got into the rockabilly scene, I wore vintage '40s and '50s clothing daily, and hunted for the best outfits on eBay and in antique shops.

By the time Nathan was born, I had put away my vintage duds since most of them didn't fit and couldn't take the constant cleaning. So I was looking forward to putting aside my boring-but-functional mommy clothes and dressing up again. For his first Halloween, we donned Star Trek outfits, Nathan a convincing mini-Captain Picard and me as his first mate.

When Nathan was two, he loved watching Iron Chef, the Japanese cooking show on Food Network. Months before Halloween I searched all over for a child-sized chef's jacket and hat to transform him into Iron Chef America. I found a child's chef jacket on eBay and a small chef's hat at a local toy store, and decorated both with U.S. flag patches and ribbons. Since I was posing as Nathan's sous chef, I wore matching gear.

Now I find myself planning costumes months or even years in advance. Last year Nathan dressed up in a charming '50s cowboy outfit I bought when I was pregnant with him. This year he's going to be a cowboy again, this time in leather chaps and matching vest purchased a couple of years ago. Lucie is going to be Minnie Mouse in a dress I got last spring at a consignment shop.

But this year, I'm not dressing up. Now that my kids are not puking up on me regularly, I've put aside my mommy clothes and have gone back to wearing my rockabilly gear. Once again, for me, every day is Halloween, whether I have on a vintage Hawaiian shirt or I'm searching the thrift store racks for next year's perfect costume.

The pissed-off preschooler (DotMoms)

Both Nathan and Lucie are preemies and had several health and developmental issues as infants -- reflux, low muscle tone, and motor skill delays. My baby books had a paragraph or two on reflux, and didn't mention the other problems. The preemie books I read after Nathan's birth only covered time in the NICU and more severe health problems, like cerebral palsy. The parenting magazines were even worse. Their advice seemed too general and overly simplified.

Eventually, I gave up on the books and magazines thinking they weren't right for our situation. Instead, I relied on our therapists and pediatricians, a wonderful reflux newsletter, and the occasional online message board for help.

I skated along advice-free until this summer when Nathan developed teenage-like behaviors -- defiance, rudeness, talking back, and not listening. I did not know how to deal with this very pissed off preschooler. And nothing I did seemed to work. The more severe my actions and reactions, the worse he got. I seriously considered FedExing him to his grandmother.

I wondered where to turn to, so I did what millions of people do each day. I Googled my problem. I typed in "discipline four-year-old behavior" and found all sorts of advice. Be consistent and understanding. Reinforce good behavior. Set limits and have consequences. Take away privileges when necessary. Use distractions and humor. Pick your battles.

I learned that even though Nathan has a great need for attention, he's learning to be independent. Defiance is how he asserts himself when he doesn't like the rules. Bottom line, he's exhibiting normal four-year-old behaviors.

No kidding. But how can we get our polite, sweet Nathan back?

One night my husband, Paul, devised a plan: a behavior chart, complete with stickers for good and bad days, goal setting, rewards, consequences for bad behavior, and a signed contract.

So it turned out that the parent who didn't read the books, magazines, and online advice came up with a practical solution. Considering that Paul has a degree in behavioral psychology, that actually makes sense.

The chart seems to be working. Nathan has had over two weeks of mostly good behavior. Score one for daddy.

Drama queen in training (DotMoms)

Lucie has expressed her emotions loudly and with gusto almost since birth. As an infant, she had colic. She also cried every time her father picked her up, and only settled down when given back to me. Luckily for us, she outgrew both behaviors.

Around the time she started crawling and sitting up, if she didn't get her way, she'd throw herself on the ground, roll over on her back, then scream and cry. I'd stand over her, smile and ask, "Are you done yet?" She'd smile back, knowing I was in on the joke. Still, she got her message across.

The breath-holding spells were the worst. The episodes, about a half-dozen in all, usually occurred when she was very tired and had hurt herself.

The scariest one was when Lucie and her brother Nathan where playing downstairs while I worked upstairs. I heard Lucie cry then Nathan saying, "Lucie, breathe now, breathe!" She had fallen and bumped her head on the tile hearth in front of the fireplace.

I rushed downstairs, and found Lucie with her head in Nathan's lap. I picked her up, but she was limp and wasn't breathing. I placed her on the floor, rocked her chest with my hand, and said her name loudly. She started to breathe, cried weakly, and then went limp again.

I was seconds away from calling 911. After rubbing her chest vigorously, she seemed to wake up but was blue around her lips. I made sure she was breathing and her heart was beating. After trying to rouse her a few more times, I realized she was in a deep sleep. I took her upstairs, put her in her crib and checked on her every so often until she woke up.

When things settled down, I did a Google search and found that pallid (turning pale) breath-holding spells are not uncommon. According to current pediatric research, four to five percent of children have them. I also talked to one of her pediatricians, who said to make sure she's safe during the spells but not to make a big deal out of them. Otherwise, they could become a learned attention-getting behavior. She's only had one major and a few minor spells since then.

I just wonder: why don't they make drama queen T-shirts in toddler sizes?

The toy gun issue (DotMoms)

This past weekend our 10-year-old neighbor, a very nice well-mannered child, gave Nathan a toy pistol. When we saw the boys pretending to shoot bad guys, my husband Paul and I weren't happy. Still we waited until Nathan came in to take the gun away, not wanting to hurt the older boy's feeling.

We're not comfortable with toy guns because we own real ones. Paul's hunting rifles are locked up and hidden. Nathan only sees them when they're packed for hunting trips and cleaned after use. We do this because kids don't understand the difference between toy guns and real ones, and can't comprehend how the real ones can hurt or kill someone.

From the various studies I've read, no matter what you tell young children about guns, they're too attractive. Kids can't leave them alone, and Nathan is no exception. After having the toy pistol taken away and getting the "guns aren't toys/you can get hurt" lecture, Nathan got a hold of toy guns on two other occasions and shot at me. Even after the lectures and punishments, the message wasn't getting through to him.

Thinking that an unrealistic looking toy would safely channel his gun lust, Paul bought Nathan a space age looking toy that shoots foam disks. Much to my chagrin, Nathan started playing "shoot the baby." So much for our magical thinking.

Since the toy gun issue raised its ugly head, Nathan is more moody, rude and disrespectful than usual. (Studies link gunplay with aggression in children.) To get him back on track, we instituted a behavior chart complete with stickers, rewards and penalties. Still he talks about guns constantly with his father. So does the boy next door.

A huge ripple effect was created by a gesture of friendship between two kids. Who says toy guns are harmless?

In defense of television (DotMoms)

The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends that children under two should watch no television, and older children should watch less than two hours per day. They also say that excessive television makes kids fat, delays literacy, and may lead to aggression and the development of attention problems. If we do have our kids in front of the TV, they should only watch educational shows and videos with no commercials. Better yet, we should watch TV with them and use it to teach life lessons.

I have no problem with those recommendations. I think most children's television is dubious, with the exception of shows on the commercial-free PBS Kids and Noggin channels. There are also some good shows on Nick Jr. and Disney, and educational programming on the National Geographic, PBS, and Discovery channels, among others.

But I confess: as a mom of two children under five, I've needed television. Some days the only way I'm going to get anything done is to sit Nathan and Lucie in front of the tube. I can't call the pediatrician's office or run the vacuum after everyone has gone to bed. Luckily, my kids are restless types who don't just sit there. Instead, the TV serves as background noise while they're playing with their toys, chasing each other around the living room, and climbing on the furniture.

However, it was when my kids were infants that I needed television most. No way could I have kept conscious during those middle-of-the-night feedings without Dave or Conan. There was only so much looking into my child's face (like the parenting books preached) that I could do before falling on my face. TV kept me awake.

It was also there for companionship, since I was by myself most of the time. Reruns of "Law & Order" and home decorating shows helped pass the time while I sat on the couch with a sleeping infant in my arms. How I wish I had TiVo, Netflix and the Internet. It would have been a much easier and less brain-numbing time.

So, my question is: Is it so important that we eliminate TV from our children's lives? Though I was an avid reader and played outdoors a great deal as a child, I couldn't have imagined my childhood without television. I loved everything from the "Electric Company" to old monster movies. Mr. Rogers was as special a TV friend as Mr. Spock. Some of my fondest memories of my father involve watching football on TV with him.

What was your favorite TV show growing up?