Tales of one woman stumbling her way through motherhood.
Oh sure, you might have thought you were getting a blog post from me today, but you’re not.
Instead you get this:
And this:
And this:
Revel in the cuteness and expect a real post in another day or so.
Or you can go visit my other blogs where I’m giving away Naturalizer shoes and Sephora gift cards.
When it comes to family TV time, we usually limit our selections to Nick Jr (Noggin), Disney Junior, Netflix or DVDs. My thinking was that if I’m going to let my kids watch TV, I’d prefer to limit them to TV free of commercials while they were very young.
I never expected them to shun all marketing and I knew that the licensed characters they saw on TV shows would still lead them to want toys with those characters on it. But if it limited their consumerism even a little, I figured it was worth it.
But then we discovered My Little Pony on the Hub network. And now I’m doomed.
Hub has at least two commercial breaks during every show. We try to Tivo episodes and then watch them with the girls, fast forwarding through commercial breaks. Then there are those times when I let the girls watch TV so I can get something else done, and I’m not always there to hit that fast forward button. Meaning they get to see every “Act now for this incredible offer!” promotion.
So, what do my two impressionable young daughters think of commercials?
Mira now chants, “Take me to Party City!” thanks to their Halloween commercial. Children in the commercial repeat that same statement over and over, and she’s now convinced that she needs to go there for her Halloween costume.
Cordy told me she’d make fewer messes with her snacks if I’d buy her a gyro bowl. Never mind the fact that she never makes a mess when eating a snack.
Mira is begging me for an insulated lunch bag that will keep her lunch cold for up to 8 hours. When I remind her that none of her lunch needs to be kept cold, she gets upset and points out that, “Dat mom bwogger on TV wecommended it!” I guess in her mind, all mom bloggers must stick together and use the same products.
Mira also insists that the chocolate milk shown in one commercial would be “healthy” for her. I tried to explain that just because they say it’s “healthier” because it’s a good source of vitamin D and calcium and is free of high fructose corn syrup doesn’t change the fact that it’s still filled with sugar. And that all milk has calcium and vitamin D.
Mira even asked if we could please buy one of those aluminum storage building. You know, because we need a carport or hobby building next to our garage or something. And they’re sooooo shiny.
I won’t even begin to discuss all of the pillow pets, make-your-own stuffed animals, play-doh ice cream factory and other toys they now insist they can’t live without.
Marketing works, folks.
After recovering from the horror of watching my kids mindlessly ask for junk they don’t need just because the TV told them they wanted it, I decided that this was a prime chance to teach them about persuasion and marketing.
I still fast forward through most commercials, but occasionally we watch them together and discuss what the people who made the ad were trying to do. Did they want us to do something or buy something? Why do they say we need it? Do we really need it? Do we already have a similar item that works well for us?
It’s also started a discussion about money, both how we get money and what we do with it. Cordy and Mira still have trouble understanding that we have a finite amount of money to spend, and there are some things we have to spend our money on first (bills) before we can then consider items that aren’t as necessary. Progress is slow in this area, but I think if we keep talking about it with them it’ll sink in.
I won’t rant about the “evils” of marketing. I know that businesses need to sell their products, and it’s up to their marketing departments to find a way to make the product appealing so that people will want to part with their money. Hell, I have an entire review blog devoted to trying out products of interest, using my real-life experience with an item to help provide an honest testimonial for the product. I sell ad space on my blog. I get it.
But just because I believe there is a place in the world for marketing doesn’t mean I plan to let my children be blind followers of consumerism. If they’re going to see commercials (and as they get older they’ll be exposed to more and more everywhere they go), I want them to think about more than what’s being presented on the surface and consider the truth behind what’s being said. Is that chocolate milk really healthier? Healthier than what? It certainly can’t be as healthy as plain white milk, right?
I think this will be a lesson that continues for some time. I’m glad they didn’t see as much advertising when they were younger, but now is a good time to start explaining how it works. They’re as receptive to the message we’re giving them as they are to the commercials – here’s hoping we can be a little more persuasive than the marketing professionals at least most of the time.
(I can’t say all the time, because let’s face it – marketing works on me, too!)
Full disclosure: Just in case it needs to be said, I do not endorse any of the products listed above, and specifically will NOT be taking Mira to Party City for her costume, but instead plan to visit a locally owned costume shop.
Cordy has beautiful hair.
She has hair that movie stars would kill to have. Shimmery, fine golden strands, and a mighty-thick head of them. It’s nearly impossible to find her scalp under all of that hair. Some hairs curl, some are straight, but all of them work together to create a lot of body.
And a lot of knots. As in, her hair can be perfectly combed and all she has to do is turn her head to the side to look at something and suddenly it’s tangled again. Laying down at night leads to matted hair, and even putting it in a braid overnight still results in knots. It seems to have an affinity to tangle itself without the slightest provocation.
After trying to get a wide-tooth comb through Cordy’s hair while she screamed, cried and fought me last week (a regular occurrence around our house), I decided that the time had come: we were paying a visit to a hair salon.
At nearly seven years old, Cordy has yet to visit any professional to have her hair cut. When she was younger she wouldn’t let anyone touch her gorgeous curls without a lot of screaming. It took nearly a year for her preschool teacher to let her put her hair in a ponytail. I combed her hair after a bath only by first putting on a favorite TV show to distract her, and even then she’d still cry and fight me. When I tried to cut it, she screamed that cutting her hair was hurting her. (And with her sensory issues, it probably was.)
We got by with me providing the occasional sneaky trim until last week, when I couldn’t take it anymore. Cordy’s hair is thick and needs the hands of a professional. It needs to be shorter and with layers in it to lighten the weight. This isn’t an issue of finding the right comb or the right conditioner or detangling spray – we’ve tried many and nothing works well. Until she’s able to comb her own hair or let me comb it without crying at the slightest tug, it has to be shorter and easier to manage.
So I made an appointment for Cordy on Saturday at a local salon focused on kids. I was worried that she’d have a meltdown or lash out at the stylist, but hoped she could hold it together enough to let them get a basic cut in. We washed and combed her hair right before we went in the hopes that it would have few(er) tangles in it when the stylist started combing it.
(And of course, Mira asked to have her hair cut, too. She wasn’t about to miss out on a little pampering.)
Here they were before going inside:
Cordy was up first, and asked to sit on Clifford instead of in a big-kid chair. Hey, if it helps her cope she can sit on whatever she wants, right? I warned the stylist about her sensitive head, although she still was a little more rough than Cordy liked. I stood next to Cordy and held her hand, soothing her when she started to get worked up. She spent most of her time watching Backyardigans, but occasionally the hair tugging would get to be too much and she’d get upset and beg to leave. I’d calm her down, and then she’d get upset again – repeat X too many times to count.
Mira? Oh, she did fine. The worst part for her was that she wasn’t able to watch herself in the mirror while getting her hair cut. Vain little creature.
Finally they were both done. Mira had a cute curly bob that evened out the area where she tried to cut her own hair last year. And Cordy had a shorter, layered cut that will (hopefully) result in fewer tangles and feel a little cooler on her head.
We could have gone shorter, but I don’t know if Cordy would have tolerated another minute of it. So it’s good for now, and we’ll re-evaluate in the months ahead if we’ll attempt this again anytime soon.
Or maybe I’ll just improve my hair-cutting skills.
Back to school is always a busy time of year, but this year seems extra busy for some reason. The changes that have been happening around here in the last two weeks have left me underslept and overworked. I’m running on caffeine and willpower at this point, and I’m nearly out of willpower. I spent all of yesterday convinced it was Thursday only to find it was actually Wednesday, and yes, I really do have to go through the REAL Thursday now.
Let me back up for a minute.
First grade is still going well for Cordy. Amazingly well, in fact. Every note home has been a positive one, with the teachers praising how well she’s adapting to her class. She brought homework with her on Monday and then quickly completed it, only to learn the next day that it was her homework for the entire week. When I asked her to practice her spelling words, she rolled her eyes at me and told me, “these words are too easy!” And then she spelled every one correctly.
The only issue we’re having at the moment is Cordy’s transportation. Her bus route for the ride home has her on the bus for nearly two hours. That’s a mighty long time to be trapped on a bus when you’re six years old. I’ve been appealing to the transportation office for a change to her route, but have so far been ignored.
Mira started preschool this week. She attends a half-day Pre-K class in the morning, and then attends a different half-day preschool class in the afternoon. This is similar to last year’s arrangement, allowing her to get speech therapy from the afternoon class while still getting plenty of academics from her morning class. Mira loves it, as it gives her twice as many people to perform for.
The afternoon preschool didn’t start until yesterday, though, which left me awfully tired on Monday and Tuesday. I had to take her to school, then come home for a few hours of sleep, then go get her again. After a few days of less than four hours of sleep, you can now understand how I thought yesterday was Thursday. I was delirious from sleep deprivation.
And then there’s Aaron. Three years after being laid off, after working several contract jobs that didn’t fit his interests, paid little, and/or weren’t long enough to turn into real jobs, after dealing with the depression that comes from feeling like his job skills were inadequate, he finally got his reward.
On Monday he started his new job – a real, permanent job, that requires a skilled employee, with a salary that isn’t insulting. He now has benefits that we haven’t seen in a long time – paid time off, holidays, and the holy grail of benefits: health insurance. We’re paying quite a bit for it, but it’s a decent health plan and I’m thrilled to have anything that doesn’t exclude every symptom of any illness I’ve experienced in the last thirty-five years.
Even better (to him, at least): he gets to work from home a few days each week.
So…yeah. Busy. The three of them have all of these changes happening and I’m in the center, playing ringmaster to it all and trying to keep everything running smoothly while also working my 42.5 hours each week. (It’s actually more than that, but I don’t bill for hours I spend at home worrying about work.)
My job hasn’t changed much; I still work third shift as a contract RN/manager, and most days I enjoy what I do. If I could change anything about my situation, it would be to have benefits, followed by working daylight hours at some point. Not sure if or when either of those might happen, but I hope for one of them someday.
By next week I should be able to get six hours of sleep on most days again. Maybe I’ll even try to clean the house a little? (Ha.) Or maybe I’ll just sleep even more.
Despite the constant rush of these new routines surrounding me, I’m still very happy for all of the changes. Aaron’s new job, the girls doing well in school, having health insurance again – I’ll willingly trade a little bit of my sanity for all of these things.
But I also wouldn’t mind if the weekdays would speed up and the weekends would slow down. I’d much rather repeat a Saturday than a Thursday.
Cordy and Mira demonstrate proper head and eye protection in the sun. Too bad Cordy already scorched her shoulders in a sunscreen mishap earlier last week.
(Yes, this is totally a shameless photo filler post. But hey, look at the cute kids!)
(No, really, my review of the Ford Fusion is coming soon. Although I nearly typed Ford Fission when I wrote that, which would be an ENTIRELY DIFFERENT kind of car, wouldn’t it?)
(And did I mention the cute kids on this little mommyblog?)
Tech geek, wife, mom of two, Disney fanatic, woman with ADD, and a complete domestic zero. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up, but that's not so bad when you get to keep trying new things, right?
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