I wonder why? All the latest kid's shows are kind enough to create plush, lovable, silly monsters for the kids to enjoy and perhaps, befriend. This is the only exposure my child has had to the concept of a “monster” so I'm unsure of when this phobia crept up on her. Excuse the pun. She did go through a period when she was scared of everything...doctors, dinosaurs, loud noises, my husband's taste in dissident techno music, sharks even. But most of those fears faded and monsters came out on top. Now every night before we go to sleep she sheepishly asks, her sleepy cherubic face illuminated by the compulsory night light, “are the monsters coming?” I've heard this question so many times I answer with a firm “NO!” before she can even finish her sentence. It seems to be enough to reassure her and off to slumberland she goes.

That is until she wakes up at 3 AM from a nightmare about what else but our frightening furry friends. I've also become so accustomed to this nightly routine that I don't think I even fully wake up as I try to comfort my trembling child back to sleep. I know it's a phase she'll outgrow, but man, can a Mommy get some sleep around here? What's crazy is that the following morning, she never remembers the nightmare or the consequent waking up from the nightmare. I learned my lesson after the first few times of asking her that it's a topic best unmentioned. As soon as I bring up her “scary dream” the wheels start to turn in her over-imaginative little head and she becomes paranoid for the remainder of the day. Then bedtime becomes MY nightmare.

I often wonder what the best way to remedy this phase is. Claw my way through it? Distract her with some silly fanciful fairy tale about princesses? Maybe I should take her to the doctor to discuss. Oh wait, she's scared of doctors too. That's a whole other story, but let's just say it has something to do with a small, plastic bead having to be extracted from a certain mischievous pre-schooler's ear by a team of intimidating medical personnel. Yeah, that was a fun three hours. At least “are the monsters coming?” was replaced by “is there a bead in my ear?” or “do I have to go to the hospital?” for a few weeks afterwards.

I just hope these fears are not becoming permanently ingrained into her psyche. Seems that they were in mine, but for good reason. My parents let me watch horror movies! Can you believe that? I'm talking about the really scary stuff about paranormal spirits that lived in the television or Halloween masks that became permanently attached to the wearer's face. What were they thinking? Once the movie would end they'd nonchalantly send my brothers and me off to bed for a grim night full of scary dreams. Thanks Mom and Dad. What's worse is they were the no-nonsense type of parents who didn't want to hear from you between the hours of 9 PM and 7 AM unless you were throwing up. Then they'd just hand you a bottle of stomach medicine and a trash can to keep next to your bed and off to sleep they'd go again. It's amazing I survived my childhood at all!

That said, I'm still baffled about my daughter's anxieties. For one thing, no scary movies, TV shows, books, or even commercials are allowed in my house (that's for her sake of course, not mine). Secondly, we co-sleep. There she is laying right next to me, night light on, and she's still scared! If Mommy and the light don't comfort her, what would? This kid must have one wild imagination to still be afraid after all that. Perhaps the problem is that I look like a monster at 3 AM with no make up on, hair all disheveled and crazy from my flannel pillowcase. Hmmm...mental note: try to look better (or at least less-frightening) for sleep from now on.

The funniest part of all of this, if I was forced to find one, is what my daughter is NOT afraid of. Spiders. Spiders just so happen to send me shrieking like a banshee and running in the opposite direction. Sane people kill spiders with a paper towel. I get out the vacuum cleaner and put every attachment I can on the hose to make it as long as possible to suck that thing up. My daughter tries to make spiders her pets! Also, she has no fear of personal injury. Neither my husband nor I are strong enough to push her as high as she would like to go on the swings. Something else? Gigantic dogs that could make a meal of her. There is a family in our neighborhood with not one, but two Great Danes that are the size of small horses, and my daughter runs right up and pets them like they were tiny, furry kittens. I, of course, keep my distance.

A friend once said to me that as soon as your child outgrows one annoying habit they immediately start to display a new one. I guess I can hang on to that for hope. I wouldn't say her fear of monsters is annoying, I actually feel sorry for her, but it does seem awfully irrational. At least that's what I tell myself every night when I'm cowering under my covers in the dark.

By Lauren MJ Connelly

Has this happened to you? I know I put my husband through the paces each time I was pregnant as far as my cravings were concerned. Though I never wanted anything as weird (or gross) as the aforementioned craving, I didn't make that one up. I knew someone who had to have that very thing throughout her pregnancy. Baffling, I know. While not all pregnant women suffer or enjoy cravings, whichever the case may be, most can tell you one or two foods they were constantly in the mood for while expecting.

During my first pregnancy, I craved chocolaty cereal. I ate so much of it I thought about writing to the manufacturer to ask if I could be their new spokesperson. At least for nine months. While I still enjoy the cereal on occasion, it's kind of lost its appeal to me. I ate way too much of it and “killed” it. Who knows why I so desperately needed to have that cereal in particular, but some days I had it for all three meals. I made the mistake of telling my doctor who promptly scolded me for the amount of sugar I was consuming. And here, I thought she was just going to get a chuckle out of my silly little story.

What was really interesting about my first pregnancy though is that I was on a very strange diet before we conceived our daughter. I only ate foods that were alkaline in nature. Yes, I am crazy in case you hadn't figured that out by now. My diet consisted primarily of nuts, seeds, legumes, and vegetables. Meat, fish, dairy, and even most fruit were out. One day, when I was seven weeks pregnant, my Mother-in-law invited my husband and I over for dinner. She had picked up a bucket of chicken on the way home from work. Before we sat down she offered me a salad, knowing my limited repertoire of allowable foods. I took one look at that chicken and fell in love. I can't remember exactly what happened that night, but I'm pretty sure no one else got very much to eat. I've been eating meat (and all the rest) ever since.

I don't remember what my cravings were during my second pregnancy, but during my third, I absolutely needed cottage cheese. When I casually interviewed other Moms I know, they said their cravings were as follows: avocados, quarter-pounders from McDonalds (this person hates fast food by the way), corn on the cob, McDonalds caramel sundaes, Perrier, very spicy Indian food, meat, sweets, and vegetables. Looks like McDonalds is missing out on an untapped niche! McPreggers! Hey, I thought of it first.

No one knows exactly why women have cravings during pregnancy. One theory is that the desired food contains a nutrient the woman is lacking and so her body prompts her to eat it. Another idea is that the food is comforting to the woman and makes her feel good during the often physically and emotionally demanding time of pregnancy. Sometimes women just crave something they feel guilty indulging in when they aren't pregnant, but feel justified in having while “eating for two”.

None of the cravings that I've mentioned are really that weird, but some women are afflicted with pica cravings while expecting. A pica craving is when someone desires to eat an inedible substance, like dirt, or chalk, or even, ahem, feces. A rather common and undiagnosed pica craving amongst the pregnant is ice cubes. While ice cubes are a benign craving, a statement some dentists may disagree with, other pica cravings can obviously be dangerous if indulged. If a pregnant woman has an overwhelming desire to eat non-foods, she should speak to her doctor as soon as possible.

What's even stranger than pregnancy cravings are food aversions that pop up while expecting. I knew I was pregnant before even confirming it with my second daughter because my favorite snack of peanut butter and apples made me nauseous one day. I believe I drove straight to the pharmacy to pick up a test and sure enough, pregnant as charged! As I mentioned, when I was newly pregnant with my first daughter, I had the diet of a woodland creature. Unfortunately, I also had an aversion to peppers and onions which at that time were practically half of my diet. With my third pregnancy? No aversions whatsoever. Weird, huh? Back to the group of fellow Moms I polled; their aversions were as follows: vegetables, pizza, Italian food, meat, and bananas.

Certain sights and scents can affect women while pregnant as well. Expecting women are thought to have a heightened sense of smell and can get nauseous from certain ones. My friend was sickened by the odor of (unused) trash bags as well as her husband's cologne. She still hates her husband's cologne even though her kids are now six and two-years-old so I think it just may stink in general. My other friend couldn't look at raw meat and if she did, she couldn't eat it once it was cooked. Unfortunately for me, the smell of pizza, one of my very favorite foods, disgusted me while pregnant with my third daughter, though I was fine with eating it. I know, it makes no sense at all.

Such is the wonderful world of pregnancy!

Because I was shy and knew no one, I did not seek out friends, but rather waited for them to approach me. My dearest friend in the world was, and still is, the most outgoing person I know. We attended the same school and were in the same grade. An added bonus was that she lived three houses up the street from me and we rode the same bus. I don't remember our first meeting, but most of my best childhood memories are of spending time with her. Twenty-six years later, we are still the best of friends and I attribute a lot of that to her friendly, affable personality. She didn't care that I was from the North or that I was shy, she just wanted to ride bikes together and go to the skating rink on Saturdays with me.

Now that I'm a Mom and have three daughters of my own, I get to sit back and watch how my children make friends. My first daughter, who is six, reminds me a lot of my best friend. She is sociable and friendly and will play with whomever is available. I'm proud of her because she does not discriminate against or prejudge anyone she plays with, as long as they are not mean or a bully. We have moved her around a lot too, four times in her short life to be exact, but settled permanently in our current location before she started school, so she'll never have to suffer the role of the “new kid”.

My second daughter, who is three, will have more trouble making friends I fear. She is more of a loner and plays well on her own. She does yearn for friends though and wants to run with her big sister and her crowd which, of course, is an annoyance to my oldest kid. Unfortunately, my middle child is unwittingly the “bratty little sister”. I hope in time, all three of my daughters will understand that they have their best friends built right into the family in having each other. I often lament not having a sister/instant best friend and have had to “adopt” some of my closest girl friends to play the part.

We are blessed to live in a really safe neighborhood where I feel okay letting my six-year-old play outside alone, as long as she stays in my view. However, many kids these days who live in more dangerous places, don't have the luxury of even leaving the safe haven of their home to play outdoors. Unfortunately, our society has become plagued by child obesity because kids spend so much time indoors watching TV or playing video games. It's important that these children get to a safe, supervised playground or community center to get exercise and meet children their own age. Cloistered children risk poor health and loneliness, so make sure they get into the game of life one way or another.

There are a lot of different places children can make friends. Besides the neighborhood, kids can meet peers at church, community playgrounds, sports teams, scouts, school, and extracurricular classes. Encourage your children to be congenial and make other kids feel comfortable around them. Not only will your kids be rewarded with a large circle of friends, but they'll also learn invaluable communication skills that they'll carry with them throughout their lifetime.

The dark side of teaching your children to be personable and make a lot of friends is that it's likely they'll meet a dud or two. If you notice your child spending a lot of time with, or mentioning a particular buddy more often, start asking a lot of questions. Make sure this kid is on the up and up. If you want a first-person view into the friendship that's forming between your child and his or her new friend, have your child invite the kid over to play. Casually observe them playing together while you supervise them and try to make sure this child will be nothing but a positive influence on your son or daughter.

Just like when we were kids, your children are bound to have spats with their friends. Try to remember how it felt when you were young and be as empathetic as possible when dealing with your child's feelings. Remind him or her how important family is during these trying times and that he or she can always count on Mom, Dad, and their siblings to love and care for them unconditionally. Impress on them that friends will come and go, but family is forever. Most childhood arguments are petty and fleeting and before you know it, the chums are reunited and playing together like nothing ever happened.

It can be hard to watch your child break away from the security of their family to venture out and meet new people. Remember that our task as parents is to not only provide roots for our children, but also help them to sprout their wings. Never discount the influence your children's peers have on them, but also never underestimate how much their friends can help to mold and shape them into productive members of society. Just teach them discernment in selecting their crowd, and you'll enjoy the peace of mind that the wisdom you instilled in them will provide.

by Lauren MJ Connelly

I’m an awful cook, I’ll admit this openly and can produce a list of people who will confirm this fact. Of course I struggle with this incompetency. As a homemaker, one of my chief duties is to supply my family, especially my hard-working husband, with a
delicious, healthful dinner on a daily basis. My husband is NOT a picky eater. The man has been known to eat 3-day old sloppy joe meat and half-cooked beef ribs, and that’s just in this past week! He has an iron gut which I can only assume developed over years of his indiscriminating and daring assaults on it. I’m sure he would be more than happy with even the most half-hearted attempts which I could easily provide. The reason I won’t is because I’m no good at cooking and therefore, I refuse to do it.

Nothing strikes fear and anxiety in my very soul than the daily 4 o’clock phone call from my husband asking what’s for dinner. My heart races, my hands shake, and my mind draws a blank. I start to stutter like a kid in trouble and blurt out, “whatever you decide to make!” Of course, I’m immediately flooded with feelings of shame and inadequacy, but they usually resolve pretty quickly. My husband has accepted my defects over the years and hangs hopefully on to my promise of becoming a gourmet chef sometime in the future…when the kids are older…like when they have grandchildren of their own.

It’s not that I haven’t tried, I really have! I’ve gone through ambitious periods where I’ve donned my best June Cleaver facade and pulled recipes off the internet to cook a feast for my family. Inevitably, it all goes wrong. I start the potatoes too late, the fear of salmonella poisoning forces me to cook the chicken to a jerky consistency and the string beans I heat up purely to have something green on the table sit pathetically untouched.

My husband dutifully gulps down every non-green selection while simultaneously telling me about a shortcut he found to work and how it saved us eighty-six cents worth of gas this week. My older daughter, in typical 6-year old fashion, complains about the fare as she does about everything else in life and my middle daughter, who inherited her father’s gut and pallet, enthusiastically begs for “moh…moh” after clearing her first serving. Two out of three ain’t bad you say? It all comes down to me and the utter dissatisfaction I get from anything I produce in the kitchen.

I know I have to change. I either have to learn to love cooking or resolve myself to doing it in the same spirit with which I file my taxes, purely out of duty. My family’s health and happiness depend on it! But cooking reminds me of an exercise I completed in Drawing 101 many years ago in college.

A hack art teacher who thought he was the next Rembrandt but specialized in paintings of pool water of all things gave us this particular assignment. For weeks we worked on a still-life in charcoal and of course I tried to get mine as close to perfect as humanly possible. The day we turned them in, the teacher randomly passed them back out and asked us to erase our classmates’ efforts. The point he was trying to make is that nothing is precious and there are no masterpieces. Strangely he was not one of the more popular teachers on campus.

Perhaps I was so traumatized by this very event that I draw (pun?) the same parallel to cooking. I insecurely spend a good part of the day trying to come up with a menu. I inevitably have to run to the store, three rowdy kids in tow, to purchase that one crucial missing ingredient. I spend several more hours in nervous anticipation of orchestrating all the dishes to finish concurrently in one grand presentation to my hungry family. I risk feeling some pride in my effort and BAM!!!! It’s gobbled down, unappreciated, within 20 minutes time. My “precious” “masterpiece” gone. Nothing to show for it. I sit horrified with the same feelings welling up inside of me that I had so many years ago, an eraser in my fist, glaring at the long-haired boy two seats away vigorously reducing my still-life to virtual non-existence.

I’m both jealous of and mystified by people who love to cook! It seems like mostly everyone I know does and is good at it too. These are the same people who think going to the supermarket is an exciting adventure. The SUPERMARKET! A horrible cold place that smells strange and offers way too many choices to the confused and frustrated who wrestle with the choice of frugality versus quality. Mercifully my husband does the grocery shopping and patronizes me by taking my carefully thought-out list, but often returns with items more aligned with his tastes for preserved meat and party foods. Clearly frugality is king to him.

I often wonder if cooking classes or a list of very simple recipes tailored towards someone with my toddler’s mentality would make me a better cook, but I suspect that I would still always hate doing it. The transient quality of it all. The frustration of being
unable to achieve empirical perfection in such a subjective craft. The anti-climactic feeling of five empty plates on the dinner table and four empty chairs surrounding it while I sit alone anticipating the Joy of…washing the dinner dishes.

by Lauren MJ Connelly

Ah yes, things were swell back in the good ol' days. We carelessly spent our disposable income on whatever we wanted; now the only thing disposable around here are diapers. We could come and go as we pleased and fly by the seat of our pants. Now our pants are just covered in stains from being grabbed by sticky syrup-coated fingers. We used to drive hot sports cars that we researched for months before buying. Now we own a car that can have as many carseats crammed into it as possible. It all happened so quickly! How could life as a parent be this different?

When my newlywed friends ask for advice about what to do before having kids, my answer is always the same. Sleep, travel, and get “me-time” out of your system because you can pretty much kiss that goodbye once you become a parent. Most of the time I think I've scared my friends into never wanting kids and I often say spending a day with my family is the best birth control out there. Bottle that stuff up and I could become a millionaire! Unless you're a parent yourself, you can not possibly understand the chaos, unpredictability, and mayhem kids can bring to your life. You could be the most structured Mom in the world, but when your baby wakes up with an ear infection on the morning of your meticulously scheduled outing to the zoo, you're gonna need to go to Plan B.

Yes, there's a lot of thinking on your toes when you're a parent. Ask any Mom or Dad and they could tell you a number of stories dealing with having to think fast and be resourceful when it comes to the kids. My Mother likes to tell the story of my older brother being dedicated at church so many years ago. For some reason my Mom bravely dressed him in white and as soon as she brought him up before the congregation...blowout! There was excrement all up the back of his shirt and down the front of my Mother's. What could she do? Kids like to embarrass us. I'm sure some of the congregates were revolted that day, but anyone who was a parent just nodded in sympathy for my Mother's plight.

This is probably why I did become even more of a free-spirit than when I was childless. I'm not sure if it's an innate personality trait or if it's because my parents themselves were unstructured with us, but I've always hated schedules. I'll admit, and please don't tell my kids, that I didn't like going to school. I liked being at school, but it was everything I had to do, in the exact same order everyday, to get there that bothered me. It felt oppressive and punishing to wake up before the sun, force down a gloomy bowl of cereal, and make sure I had all my belongings together to stand at the cold bus stop waiting to be transported to school. Somewhere during my school years I decided I was more suited to spontaneity and whim. And sometime after I became a parent, I decided that was my Mothering style as well. It's not that I'm lenient in any way. In fact, I'm one of the strictest and most restrictive parents I know amongst my friends. It's just that once you have kids, you realize that while it's noble to try to make everything go according to plan, it's very unlikely that it will.

I know some Moms who try so hard to stick to a schedule that they become depressed and the kids suffer for it as well. Making Johnny have lunch at exactly noon every day whether he's hungry or not, or racing home from eating out so you can plop Sally in her crib at 7 PM on the dot makes for a sad life in my opinion. You have to find the balance of going with the flow without letting the kids take control. I'm a work in progress as a Mother, but a lot of it does have to do with bringing everything into homeostasis. Making sure the kids eat enough vegetables to offset their intake of sweets. Making sure they get enough sleep without forcing them to lay in bed bored to tears for three hours because they are full of energy on a particular day. And most importantly, making sure you give them as much discipline and guidance as you do love and praise.

I know that once all three of my now very young kids get older, I'll be able to recapture some of the tranquility and peacefulness of my childless days. I know my body will never be the same, nor shall my relationship with my husband. But my life now is way more fulfilling than it was before the children. Life is a give and take. I gave up leisure time, extra money, and sleep, in exchange for sweet hugs, glowing moments of pride, and an inseverable bond to the man I love. I wouldn't go back in time for a million dollars. The good ol' days were good, but the present is invaluable.

by Lauren MJ Connelly

Nighttime can be frightening for children. I'll admit, I'm still afraid of the dark myself and I'm well into my thirties. I also get scared when I have to sleep alone so I can only imagine how stressful it is for a child to be dumped in their dark room and told they'll be seen in the morning. As a tenderhearted Mom, I like to make bedtime a lovely, positive experience for my children to look forward to. Does that mean everything always goes smoothly? Of course not, but for the most part, evenings are peaceful in my house.

I like to follow the “B”s of a bedtime ritual. Read on and you'll see where I'm going with this. Following is our nighttime routine:

Bath – Bath time is one my kids' favorite times of the day. I fill the tub with warm water, bubbles, and safe toys. I don't rush them in and out and they sit playing happily until they are ready to get out of the tub. They think this is playtime but I know that the warm water and lavender-scented bubbles are relaxing them and preparing their minds and bodies for slumber.

Brush teeth – This is the next step in our bedtime ritual. It's important to help small children do a good job on teeth-brushing and to make sure they don't swallow the toothpaste. I like to lecture them about good dental health while they're brushing and teach them what can happen if plaque and tarter build up and erode their teeth. I also prefer to be in control of the tube of toothpaste because if I give control to my six-year-old, my counter ends up coated in pink goo. Make sure they floss and rinse!

Bed – This is tuck-in time. There are so many ways to make your child's room comfortable and conducive to good sleep. Soft sheets, a season-appropriate comforter, and a perfectly fluffed pillow make for a comfy nest. And don't forget temperature and lighting control. Babies need to be put on their backs on a firm mattress with no soft or fluffy bedding or toys in the crib. Make kids' rooms a sanctuary where they feel safe, secure, and happy to be at nighttime.

Book – Reading a book or two to your children is one of the most beneficial things you can do for them. Not only do they learn the cadence and vocabulary of their native language, but they also get to chalk up quality snuggle time with Mom or Dad. Some of my best childhood memories are of my Dad reading bedtime stories to us. Make an effort to read at least one book on most nights of the week to your children...and no skipping pages!

Bear – Lots of children like to sleep with a “lovey” or stuffed animal of some kind. I happen to like teddy bears. I mean I did when I was a kid...okay, I still love teddy bears though I no longer need to snuggle with one to sleep. Some kids have no attachment to an inanimate object, but for those who do, having their lovey in bed with them can make nighttime feel more secure. For babies, loveys and stuffed animals in the crib is a no-no.

Ballad – Call it what you will: a ballad, a lullaby, or a ditty. Kids love to hear people sing. I sing my kids the same five songs every night, and not very well either. They think I have a beautiful singing voice and love to hear me lull them to la la land. You don't have to sing five songs, and like me, you don't have to sing well, but experiment with different sweet tunes to see which ones your kids enjoy.

Here are the “B”s of bedtime you'll want to avoid:

Battles – Nobody wants to go to bed angry and feeling bad about themselves. Even if things go a little rough some nights, try to stay calm and use a quiet voice when redirecting your kids back to the bedtime routine.

Bawling – Don't force the issue when it comes to the bedtime routine if your child is having an off-night. Sometimes a snuggle on the couch in a darkened room is enough to help your kid get it together and ready to get back to the routine.

Ballyhoo – No parent enjoys trying to settle down a bunch of hyped-up kids. Avoid, at all costs, allowing your children to consume sugar, caffeine (which they have no business having anyway), or other behavior modifying foods or beverages before bed. It might be my imagination, but any time my oldest daughter eats or drinks anything with red dye, she goes nuts. While it's entertaining to watch her be a goof ball, it doesn't make for easy settling at the end of the day. You'll also want to avoid stimulating activities such as television, video games, wrestling, and the like, that put the kids into overdrive.

Berating – If your kids are goofing off and you are in a bad mood and nothing seems to be going right, avoid losing your temper with your children. Just because you want them to get settled so you can have time to yourself doesn't mean you should chew out the kids. Keep your head in the game and push on with the routine in a calm, respectful manner.

Someday your kids will understand the value of bedtime and the benefits of a great night of sleep. If they only knew how much most adults look forward to hitting the sack every day! Enforce the bedtime routine and set the standard for a lifetime of good rest for your children.

by Lauren MJ Connelly

With my first child, who is now six-years-old, I had to work full-time outside of the home and made the heart-wrenching decision to put her in daycare. She was just fourteen months old and a very clingy child as she had been from birth. I dreaded the first day that I would drop her off and see her give me a look of betrayal for scarring her for life by leaving her to fend for herself. I even begged my husband to take her instead, freeing myself from all the guilt and worry that was welling up inside of me. He said “no”.

My biggest factor in picking a daycare for my first daughter was distance - from my home and work. Blessedly, I found a place right in between the two. I knocked on the security door apprehensively and someone quickly answered to my dismay. We stood and looked at each other and since it wasn't regular visiting hours and I had failed to call to warn them of my arrival, the daycare owner gave me the suspicious look one gives a solicitor. I did have my daughter with me and told her I needed to find a place for her to stay while I worked. The owner invited me in and explained that her toddler class was full. I believe I cried.

Looking back, I can't believe how persistent I was in getting my daughter into this daycare. I called and called and dropped by a few more times. It's not like this was the only facility available for me to take her, it's just that this place made me feel secure and in turn gave me hope that my daughter would feel the same once enrolled. Finally, I'm sure out of a desire to silence me, they accepted my daughter into their establishment. Part of me was relieved and part of me was disappointed. Secretly I had hoped it all wouldn't work out and I'd have to quit my job to stay home with her. My husband would understand I thought. But alas, everything fell into place as it often does.

Just like I had predicted, the first day I dropped her off was traumatic in every way. She screamed and clung to my leg and I cried more than she did. The owner and her staff looked a bit regretful to have allowed my daughter to attend, but encouraged me that she would lighten up once I left. They were wrong. My daughter spent her first day crying, wailing, and bemoaning the loss of her home life with Mom. They didn't call me because in the awkward situation where someone is paying you to watch her child because she has to work, you have to avoid veering from the arrangement at all costs.

When I picked her up she looked utterly bereft of our old life. She was exhausted and spent and I knew it had to get better after that first day. Thankfully, it did, though it took a week or two of adjustment. My daughter simply resolved herself to the fact that this was our new way and she surrendered to it all. In the end, I would be too sad about the whole situation and would get a new job that allowed me to cut back her hours at daycare dramatically.

Funny how things change. Things did not go at all the same when I chose the preschool for my second daughter to go to. Perhaps I had become more pragmatic as I gained Mothering experience. Perhaps it was because I had been through a similar situation before. Perhaps it was my second daughter's personality that made it so much easier to drop her off with strangers. You see, my first daughter is moody, attached, and serious. She will be the melancholy teenager who wears black and creates art inspired by her deep perceived sorrow. Even though she's only six, I have to keep an eye on her disposition and lift her up when necessary. My middle daughter, who as I mentioned is two-years-old, is wild, nutty, and capricious. Watching her is like watching a tornado spin through the room leaving a mess in its path.

It amazes me how different my kids' personalities are. My one-year-old is really beginning to show hers lately and seems more like my middle daughter than my first. When I first considered putting my two-year-old in preschool, it was her personality that made me feel at peace with the idea. I knew she would embrace it whole-heartedly and with no apprehension. I looked online for the closest preschools and checked out the website for one of them. I was immediately sold. The pictures of the facility looked like it was designed with my daughter in mind. A fantastical mural covered the walls and colorful play equipment filled each room. This would be heaven to my crazy kid.

I called and explained, almost apologetically, that I had a sprightly daughter who was bored at home and needed to spend time with her peers. Again, I felt like I had to justify my decision to purposefully part with my child during the week. This was especially true since I was a stay-at-home-mom. Why would I need to put my kid in preschool? Why couldn't I stimulate her mind enough on my own? Would they look down on me and sympathetically take my daughter in since I didn't want to spend so much time with her myself? They didn't seem to be thinking about it too hard and instead invited me to the Open House they were coincidentally having the next day. 

I could barely contain my daughter's excitement when we walked in the two-year-olds' classroom. She wanted to start that very minute! I had to reign her in and tell her she would have to wait until next week, which is a lifetime to a preschooler. I enrolled her and took her to the store to buy a backpack and lunch box and she proceeded to carry them around the house the rest of the day. She was proud of her new role as a “big girl”.

I know those mere eight hours a week she is in preschool are special to both of us for different reasons. I both look forward to taking her to preschool and feel sad after dropping her off. She's still a baby, my baby, and she's growing up, but I know she has to sprout her wings and fly.  I just want to be sure I don't usher her along faster than necessary, and I certainly want to be sure she doesn't fly from the nest for at least sixteen more years.

by Lauren MJ Connelly

This was me one year ago. I had long planned to homeschool my kids and my oldest daughter was now five-years-old and ready to learn reading, writing, and arithmetic. Life circumstances and a lack of confidence in my teaching abilities ultimately caused me to enroll her in public school. Of course, I was ambivalent about my decision and sought reassurance from everyone around me. I thought of all the ways my selfish choice would scar her for life and how any negative experience she'd have over the next thirteen-plus years would be my fault.

My daughter, on the other hand, seemed excited. All she knew was that we were planning a huge shopping trip during which she would acquire a cool back pack, lunch box, and fashionable new clothes. I would observe her around the house meeting imaginary classmates and exchanging platitudes with them and I hoped everything would go just as smoothly for her in real life.

Each day that passed counting down to her first day increased both my anxiety and her anticipation. I tried not to think about it, but she managed to remind me about a hundred times a day. My husband, who is entirely unsentimental by nature, acted as though our baby starting school was no big deal. I found this to be infuriating!

Reality struck the day I received her bus assignment in the mail. Somewhere deep inside, I was hoping we lived too far from the school for her to qualify to take the bus so that I would have to drive her. But alas, we lived in the one-mile radius. I apprehensively slid my finger under the sealed flap of the envelope and slowly removed the folded white paper. I scowled at the heartless black ink that outlined the details of my daughter's transportation to and from school. I suddenly felt a lump in my throat and realized this wasn't a terrible nightmare after all. I would not wake up and be relieved that my daughter would stay eternally young and live with me forever. This revelation broke my heart.

Several days before school started, there was an open house. We went and met with my daughter's teacher and took a tour of the classroom and school. It seemed okay enough I thought, but I found myself becoming paranoid about outrageous, unlikely scenarios that might befall my child while she was in attendance. The front doors didn't look secure enough. The outlets in the walls needed those baby-proofing plugs. And I'm sure I saw an exposed wire up there that could set the school on fire and reduce it to a pile of ashes.

I was shocked by how aloof my daughter's teacher seemed, as though there was nothing at all for me to worry about. Sure she's been doing this teaching gig for over three decades, but has she really considered all that could go wrong and directly affect my child? She handed me a fat packet of papers stuffed neatly in a sticker-adorned folder; my child's name scrawled across it in black marker. I was instructed to fill out the enclosed papers and send them to school with my daughter on her first day.

We arrived back home from the open house and my daughter's excitement was bigger than ever; especially now that she had seen her immaculate, shiny desk and the long list of fellow pupils' names hanging on the wall. The prospect of all that was to come filled her with delight and I just became more distraught by the moment. What if she was building all of this up in her mind only to find herself disappointed on the first day? How would I explain that this is often how life works? That we set our expectations so high and then crash to the ground when reality doesn't live up to fantasy?

Trying to remain practical, I pulled the crisp stack of paper out of the folder and started to fill in the requested information. I felt like I was being punished. Punished for not homeschooling her after all. Punished for pushing her into something I wasn't sure about. And punished for not feeling at peace with any of it. After I dutifully completed the paperwork I placed it neatly in her back pack that was patiently waiting to fulfill it's duty.

For some reason, I became really focused on what she was going to wear. I remember when I was a child I would fend off first-day anxiety by carefully selecting and trying on the perfect outfit over and over again. It felt like it was all I could control in an otherwise uncontrollable situation. I also liked to organize all of my required supplies in my pristine new back pack and tried to do the same for my daughter. She and I decided she would bring her lunch on the first day and we spent time the evening beforehand packing her lunch box together.

Monday morning finally came. This is it. This is the day. We have prepared so much for this. Every awful scenario imaginable has haunted me for weeks. My daughter is so oblivious, I thought. Thank goodness her innocence is protecting her from knowing all the evils in the world that she would soon be exposed to. That her life would soon be in the hands of a bus driver who could fall asleep at the wheel, or run a red light. That if she did make it to school, a stranger would be responsible for her for the next eight hours and might not notice that she was choking on a piece of apple at snack time. That the one exposed wire I know I saw could finally set the school aflame. Good, I thought, let her ignorance be her bliss while I sit at home, tortured, waiting for three o'clock.

Three o'clock finally arrived. Amazingly, my baby jumped off the bus and into my arms, fully in tact. She would spend the rest of the day filling my brain with details of the magical place called “school”. A place filled with paints, and toys, and books, and friends. A place she wanted to be when she was not at home. I started to feel relieved. Her joy injected a silent calm into my mind.

I realized that so much of the wistfulness I felt about her going to school was really guilt about all of the moments over the past five years that I had wished away. Those tough days when I wanted to quit my job as her Mother were gone forever, never to be recovered. Going forward, she will spend more of her days in school than with me, every year until she graduates from high school and than off she goes. I realized how crucial it is to appreciate every precious moment with her, now and forevermore. In the end, it seems that I learned more than she did on her first day of school.

by Lauren MJ Connelly

My husband doesn't like to go out to eat with our kids, all of whom are under the age of seven. Things usually start out okay, but inevitably, our children grow restless, noisy, and miserable. I try to make the best of it, but my husband is not quite as optimistic. It's only a matter of time before he looks over at me and states his desire to only ever eat at home going forward. I generally respond by rolling my eyes and calling him a killjoy. True, our children are running around the table throwing pizza at each other, but I just happen to be the more laid back parent.

All joking aside, I do believe it's important to discipline children outside of the home. If you don't, you're going to send your kids mixed messages and they'll think it's acceptable to be crazy monkeys at the supermarket. But how to discipline them when they are out of their element is the tricky part. Everyone knows how crucial consistency is when effectively disciplining children, so it's important not to make concessions just because you're out and about.

If you want to make your life easier, tell your kids what kind of behavior you expect on your outing before you leave the house. Don't be so detailed that you overload their little minds, but also, avoid being so general that they have no understanding of what consequences they'll face if they do get out of line. Non-edible rewards are an option if you are going on a long trip or to a non-kid-friendly place that requires an extra amount of self-control from your children.

How the kids behave on the way to your destination can sometimes be a good indicator of how they'll act once there. If they're already out of control, give them a warning and one more chance to turn their behavior around. If they don't comply, discipline is in order. Follow through with what you discussed with them earlier so they know you mean business the next time you go somewhere. Once you arrive, give your kids the courtesy of reminding them often that you expect acceptable behavior from them and that they'll be punished accordingly for misbehaving. Be sure to dole out plenty of praise for good behavior and attitudes as well. Children respond beautifully to praise and it acts as an incentive to please their parents further.

I like to use the “gold star” system of praise for my kids. It's nothing new, I simply made it my own loose-y goose-y unstructured version. No, I haven't any crisp, white calendars labeled with my children's names on which to place actual gold star-shaped stickers. I simply tell my kids they received a “gold star” if they behaved appropriately on an outing. Of course, my two-year old always asks where the  gold star is and I cleverly reply that “it's in your head...close your eyes and imagine it”. My six-year-old understands the abstract concept of receiving an imaginary gold star and despite being much older than my younger two daughters, still strives to receive that approval from me.

I used to “give out” imaginary stars of varying colors that were worth more or less than other colors. Inspired by the Olympics, I gave the coveted gold star for outstanding behavior, the satisfactory silver star for good behavior, and the somewhat disappointing bronze star for okay behavior. Sometimes, when I thought the kids were acting really rotten out in public, they received the dreaded black star. Since my kids don't have a firm grasp on why a silver star would be worth more than a sparkle-y bronze star, I scrapped the system but continued with the gold stars. I still whip out a black star for when I'm really annoyed though. They never like to get those.

Another time that it's essential to maintain consistent discipline is when visiting the in-laws or other family members. You know they are judging you anyway, so you may as well seem like you have some idea of what you are doing. I always feel like my in-laws think I'm either being too harsh in my discipline or too laid back, causing their grandkids to become spoiled. Of course, I never feel like I can please them and that they think they did things so much better while raising my husband than I could ever do with my own kids. In the end, I try not to let their opinions influence my disciplinary style too much and go about business as usual when redirecting my kids' behavior or doling out consequences.

If you feel like you've tried everything to get your children to behave outside of the home and nothing has worked, consider hiring a babysitter or finding a willing family member who can mind the kids for you when you need to go on an outing. Remember, often when kids are very young, it's difficult to expect them to behave in public in a way that you would prefer simply because they are too immature to control themselves. Sometimes, everyone benefits from having a third party step in to help out while you run errands or go out for a peaceful meal.

If you never feel comfortable with your own style of discipline, inside or outside of the home, there are hundreds of books out there that you could read for some insight. Your child's pediatrician is another invaluable source for information and could tailor it specifically to your child's disposition. For moral support you can turn to local Mom groups or online message boards to seek out others who can empathize with your particular conundrum.

Discipline is a form of love. Deprive your child of it now and they will later hate you for it. Be consistent with it, and though you my think your kids dislike you for setting boundaries and teaching them how to act, they really appreciate you for caring so much about them. Someday they may give you a gold star!

by Lauren