I don’t know what I was thinking. There I was, late afternoon smack in the middle of Spring Break, on line at the Flagship 5th Avenue Build-a-Bear with a flaccid, waiting-to-be-stuffed plush toy and mandatory outfit. A camp full of kids from out of town had descended on this Manhattan tourist trap unannounced, leaving the store understaffed. But I couldn’t just walk away…
With the holiday today and everyone home, we spent the day sleeping in, putting together, flying, and losing Douglas’ first model rocket, and in the aftermath of that there just wasn’t time for a proper newsletter. Tomorrow! So today you get treated to a guest post courtesy of Rahti Gorfien, thanks Rahti!
by Rahti Gorfien
Last night I heard about an orthodox Jewish woman here in NYC who has 17 children and works full time as the principle of an elementary school. That’s right. You read me. Works full time and has 17 kids.
I wanna talk to her.
© Rahti Gorfien 2009
Lately, I’ve been hearing a lot of grousing about lack of reciprocity when it comes to watching someone else’s kid(s). ‘I take her kid, and as soon as I ask for coverage, there’s always some excuse…’ I call this Sitter-Debting. Not to brag, but I seem to have the opposite ‘problem’. People won’t take me up on reciprocating! Is it just me? Am I that pathetic? Is my child so fabulous that people feel blessed just having him around? Now I know THAT’S delusional. A friend said recently it’s because I don’t exude neediness around the issue. People sense that if they say no, I’ll be okay; in other words, I’ll manage perfectly well without their help. Well, there may be some accuracy to that observation, but only because I approach child care as a numbers game. I know a lot of parents. I know several with kids who have the same schedule as my son, and with whom he gets along. I won’t presume to say that we’re all so fortunate, but many of us are, even the folks who feel isolated due to being a single parent, or are in the I’m-the-stay-at-home-parent-so-everybody-dumps-their-kids-with-me role.
Now this is touchy. In fact, I’m truly afraid of getting my ass kicked for saying this (metaphorically, of course).
I came across a solution to my inability to clean the apartment. First off, of course, I don’t do it alone. As I like to say, this is a frat house, or whatever the non-sexist equivalent is. Everybody chips in, and we all take turns nudging to get it done. But there are many weekend days when I am literally unable to get out of bed, greatly due to the prospect of household projects my husband has coerced me into agreeing to.
My son’s favorite show was once ‘The Comfy Couch’. In it, a girl-clown named Lunette would do the ‘10-Second Tidy’ at the end of each episode; a speeded-up taping of her shoving things under pillows, sweeping and straightening-out until the space and couch are again pristine, as in the top of the show. This inspired bit has been one way I’ve motivated my son, and myself, to get the surface insanity wrangled from time to time…