RVANews

PHOTOS: RVA Remembers

Patience Salgado — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 15:13:27 +0000

December 1st is World AIDS Day. To commemorate this year's event, the Fan Free Clinic sponsored RVA Remembers. At 12 o'clock, 400 red umbrellas opened simultaneously to symbolize a recommitment to education, prevention, and hope in the battle against HIV / AIDS.

The event also recognized those living with HIV / AIDS today, the friends and family that have died… and those that will die.

Ho there, reader of RSS feeds! Do you ever want to support RVANews in a real and tangible way? Or at least pay a small penance for reading ad-free content? If so, support us on Patreon for a couple bucks a month!

Halloween kindness: turning those tricks into treats

Patience Salgado — Wed, 26 Oct 2011 13:49:02 +0000

It’s that time of year again: Halloween. The sweetest holiday of candy goodwill--along with the occasional egging of a house. I find it crazy how strangers, doorsteps, and costumes can all come together in a magical way. If you are a member of my family, Halloween ranks up there as one, if not THE greatest holiday of the year.

So let’s take the spooky giving spirit of the 31st one step further. Here are 5 ideas to make your Halloween even more mysteriously kind:

#1 Boo someone

Have you been booed yet? Grab your kids and head to the store to gather various Halloween goodies: candy, art supplies, those awesome spider rings, play dough, all those things kids love. Leave them on the door step in a bag or one of those plastic jack-o-lanterns from our childhood. Ring and run! Don’t forget to leave a note: “We’ve been Booed!” for the recipient to leave in their window. Some folks like to pass on the goodwill, whole entire neighborhoods have been playing this game for over 20 years! Grown up version: leave a six pack of specialty beers! Yes, I know, you want to play now.

#2 Have a Pre-Trick or Treat warm-up dinner

Invite some neighbors, maybe some folks in your community whom you are interested in getting to know better, and have a pre-game dinner. Everyone could use something semi-decent to eat before they eat pounds of chocolate and candy. Have everybody bring a dish so the cooking load is light and fun. Let the kids run around like maniacs because chances are they will be too excited to eat anyway.

#3Go all Ed McMahon on one unsuspecting, yet deserving trick-or-treater.

Buy one extra bag of candy, then pick one kid during the night to pour it all out on. It’s the kid version of winning the Publisher’s Clearing house million! There may be squealing in delight, or even a lack of sounds all together from shock.

#4 Pass the loot on.

If your kids end up with brown bags filled to the top, why not share the love? Operation Gratitude is a nonprofit that mails care packages to troops in hostile regions, to their children left behind, and to wounded warriors. Sounds like the perfect people to share the candy kindness with, doesn’t it?

#5 Leave some after-gourd goodness.

You know all those gourds you bought to decorate? How about writing some encouraging messages on them and leaving them for people to find? Maybe a “You can do it!” one outside the gym, or an “It will be okay” on a bench somewhere. Recycle those little guys and send something positive out into our fine city!

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Do you have any kindness ideas for the shadow side holiday? We would love to hear them in comments. Have an awesome Halloween!

photo by ginnerobot

Raising Richmond: So long, friend

Patience Salgado — Tue, 30 Aug 2011 11:08:21 +0000

Editor's note: As much as it pains us to do so, the time has come for us to say goodbye to the one and only Patience Salgado -- at least within context of the ongoing conversation we have on Raising Richmond. Here she offers a few words of farewell as she reflects on her almost-three-year stint as an RVANews columnist. We hope you'll take a minute to read it and then check out our list of what we see as Patience's "Greatest Hits," if you will -- columns in which she did that voodoo that she does particularly well. Oh, and don't worry: Raising Richmond isn't going anywhere, we're just tweaking the format a bit. Stay tuned!

“I think I may have found a babysitter!” Jorge said excitedly. “I met her on the Internet,” he continued as I decided my dear husband may have very well lost his mind.

“No, no, I’m telling you, this girl is really nice! She even offered!” I wondered if the babysitter desperation had set in so deep that anything was on the table at this point. We were young parents of three living in a two bedroom apartment in the Museum District. With no family in town and a tight budget, we were livin’ on love, city joy, and the Internets apparently -- but never a babysitter.

He sent me link to her blog, Made in Richmond, and well, it turned out to be the one and only Valerie Catrow. She was funny, genuine, opinionated sometimes, yet also tender and kind. I instantly liked her and felt as if she were an old friend. Crazier still, I would have actually LEFT MY CHILDREN WITH HER, without a second thought. The funny thing is, Valerie has never once watched my children. We were too busy exchanging emails, seeing each other at a handful of gatherings, becoming friends, and bonding over many a late article I had yet to turn in for Raising Richmond.

When we started Raising Richmond over two years ago -- which is forever in Internetland -- I knew our experiences may be different but I didn’t realize how much we would have in common. I didn’t know that moms, dads, grandparents, even lovely single people not even thinking of having kids would read our humble little column. I didn’t know how much I had to reflect upon or realized all those parenting stories added up to something beautiful, especially because I still rarely know what I am doing. It was so nice to have other RVAers along the way, sharing their own doubts and parenting triumphs.

It seems as if my path is taking another turn. I find my head, various napkins, and backs of old junk mail envelopes are filling with kindness ideas like never before. My parenting, family life, and heart are in a new place where I can pursue and develop my kindness work in a deeper way. I am so excited and yet so sad that I will not share this space with you all anymore. Thank you for all your kindness and support over the years. I will always be grateful for this time I had with you all and Valerie.

Patience Salgado lives in a state of dreamy chaos with her husband Jorge and their four kids in the Westover Hills neighborhood. She slings a baby while she tries to think up her next guerrilla goodness project.

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Patience's Greatest Hits

Raising Richmond: Keep cool, kids

Patience Salgado — Tue, 02 Aug 2011 10:00:56 +0000

We don't need to tell you it's hot. You know it's hot. Your kids know it's hot. The only time any of you want to spend outside is the walk from one air conditioned space to another.

Sure, it's tempting spend summer with your kids holed up in the basement watching Cars for the 14,000th time in a row, but we must prevail! We must stimulate our children's young minds! We must not let the soul-sucking humidity win!

So allow us to offer up a healthy handful of fun AND kid-friendly activities (both around town and at home) that are sure to keep your whole brood amused on those days that a walk around the block sounds about as appealing as a punch in the face. Best of all? They're either free or so cheap they might as well be.

Out and About

Virginia Museum of Fine Arts

We know what you're thinking: Priceless pieces of art! So many things not to touch! You are a couple of insane ladies! But remember, it's always good to give your kids experience with the whole "look don't touch" concept that they'll encounter every now and then. Added bonus: that place is air conditioned like nobody's business. Younger kids will love the British sporting exhibit (it's all dogs, pigs, and horses) and Mocha Dick by Tristin Lowe. Yes, it's a giant white whale just hanging out in the museum. Little minds will be BLOWN by that one. (200 N. Boulevard; opens at 10am on weekdays; free)

Stories with Ms. Tori

One of us (Valerie) didn't want to share this with you because, well, she is selfish and doesn't want this Ginter Park edition of Richmond Public Libraries' storytimes to get too crowded. Every Tuesday morning you and your babies and/or toddlers can take part in about 30 minutes of songs, books, and playtime (bubbles! balls!) under the guidance of Ms. Tori who is just about the most adorable person alive. She's not afraid to be completely silly with the kids, and every single book she picks is a hit with the infamously discerning and distracted toddler set. (1200 Westbrook Avenue; 10:30am on Tuesdays; free)

Kid's Club Film Series

Taking even one kid to the movies can cost upwards of $30, so a family trip to The Cinema is out of the questions for most of us these days. Luckily Movieland offers free kids movies every Tuesday morning -- perfect for those days when the thermometer is creeping towards 100 even before lunch. Upcoming features are The Chronicles of Narnia: Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Gulliver's Travels, and Shrek Forever After. (1301 N. Boulevard; Tuesdays at 10am, doors open at 9am; tickets are free but issued on a first come-first served basis)

Home Depot Kids Workshops

If your kids are particularly handy (or you'd like them to be) Home Depot locations offer free workshops the first Saturday of each month for kids ages 5 to 12 where they get to complete a project and get introduced to do-it-yourself skills and tool safety. Each child gets a project kit, a kid-sized Home Depot apron, and an achievement pin. The next workshop is August 6, and the wee ones will be making a pencil box -- just in time for back-to-school. Awwwww! (Your local Home Depot location; 9am to 12pm; free)

Cartwheels & Coffee

Ok, it's not free, but it's so fantastic that leaving it out would be a disservice to you, our dear (and perhaps desperate?) readers. Plus, a few bucks per kid for unlimited playtime in a comfortable and cozy indoor play area where you can get a cup of coffee? Totally worth it. When you're not partaking in the playground, play kitchen, dress up area, train table, and miniature stage, be sure to check out their free group music class on Mondays at 10am and their free storytime on Fridays, also at 10am. (2820 W. Cary Street; open Monday through Thursday from 9:30am to 5pm, Friday and Saturday 9am to 6pm; $4 per child, kids under 1 are free)

Stony Point Pop Jet Fountain

If you *must* go outside (and we all know that Vitamin D is kind of essential for proper development) this is a great option. And let's be honest, there is nothing better than water that shoots out of the ground at unexpected moments if you are three…or 30, actually. This fantastic (and FREE!) pop jet fountain sits right next to Chipotle and an ice cream shop, and you can even catch some live music on the weekends from now until September 5th. Water, dogs, music, ice cream -- your children will think it might indeed be summer nirvana! (9200 Stony Point Parkway; fountains are turned on at 10am; free)

At Home

Rainbow Bath

Are we the only losers in RVA that did NOT get a pool membership? Where do people get all that money for the first year?! Anyway, if you're in the same boat, head straight to the poor man's pool for kids: the bath tub. If you are even luckier to live in an old, extremely charming Richmond home, your bath probably is the size of a small pool. Simply add some food coloring to about five different trays of ice, pop those bad boys out, and let the kids have a "Rainbow Bath." Colorful and fun and just enough out-of-the-ordinary that the kids will love it. A word of warning: when all the ice melts, it becomes a brown bath. Just drain it and go for another round.

Weekly Popsicle Extravaganza

Why not invite some ice pop joy into your life? Pick a special treat to make each week for the rest of the summer (or through mid-October -- this is Richmond, after all). Head to your local library -- yet another cool place with free stuff -- and check out this book to get you started. Bump up your Good Parent Points with all the fresh fruits you will get at the various Farmers' Markets around town to make these organic treats. Super Parent? Why yes, yes you are.

Valerie Catrow is the former editor of RVANews who now spends her days raising her son, reading young adult fiction, and watching really bad television. When she's not contributing to our parenting column or ranting and raving on her personal blog, Made in Richmond, you can probably find her abusing the caps lock key on Twitter.

Raising Richmond: Parenting with the Internet

Patience Salgado — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 10:00:58 +0000

Editor's note: Today's feature is the latest installment of our parenting column written by two Richmond mothers: Patience Salgado (veteran mother of four gorgeous children), and Valerie Catrow (newish mother to a giant toddler). Check back fortnightly to watch them discuss/agree/disagree/throw down over all kinds of parenting issues, Richmond-related and beyond.

Today's Moms and Dads no longer just have What to Expect When You're Expecting or good ol' Grandma to turn to for parenting guidance. Thanks to the Internet, we've got everything we would (and wouldn't) ever want to know about raising kids right at our fingertips. So today we ask:

How has the Internet (and social media) affected your parenting experience?

Patience Salgado

It was 2001, the blog stone ages if you will, a time before the great rise of mommy blogs when forums reigned supreme. I had just had my first son a year prior and moved to a new city 1,000 miles away from my family. My dear friend was getting married and kept an online journal on the Wedding Channel to keep friends and family in the loop. When women had finished planning these crazy amazing weddings, it was natural to peek in the let’s-have-a-baby room...just to see, you know.

So there I was, one of the few with a baby already, somehow part of the community forum; I guess I was bridesmaided in. These women were smart, media/Internet savvy, and boy could they talk. I found myself starting my own online journal, telling stories of parenthood, explaining and sometimes defending my choices as a parent, creating this online reflection of my entire journey. They asked so many insightful questions, brought research to the table, argued, gave each other online baby showers, birthed and lost babies together, cared for each other through infant reflux and even rare disease, held therapy sessions for impending divorce, traded millions of pictures of growing children. They were a force.

Even 10 years and so many kids later, many remain friends today, carrying the community to the next Internet platform of the moment. I didn’t realize it at the time, but these women helped shaped who I am as a mother. They taught me to befriend and claim my intuition, to articulate and stand in my values, to allow my strengths as a person to be seen. Somewhere along the way, I became a writer and--dare I say?--one of those online geeks. New writing opportunities unfolded and pretty soon my family life and parenting became public in a new way. There have been times when I wished I lived under a rock far from a WiFi hot spot, but mostly it feels like there are a gaggle of people helping to raise my crazy clan. A host of nosey aunties, doting grandfathers, opinionated sisters, good-time-Charlie brothers, all rooting for my kids to turn out all right.

When I screw up, have played too much Dr. Google, or feel totally lost in this parenting thing, I look back and read over years and years of entries and feel so grateful to Al Gore or whoever created the Internets.

Valerie Catrow

As of this moment, I have six good friends expecting babies at the end of this year. SIX. There are many baby showers in my future.

Within our circle of friends, my husband and I tend to be the first to tackle life's major milestones. We were the first to get married, the first to get a dog, the first to buy a house, and the first to have a baby. While we were happy to sort of "test the waters" for everyone else, I must admit that my pregnancy with our son was a bit lonely. Ok, a lot lonely.

Don't get me wrong: our friends were ecstatic, joining us in on the countdown to our little one's arrival back in 2008. But the closer I got to being responsible for 1) participating in the eviction of this child from my person and 2) keeping said child safe, happy, and alive, I became more and more aware that no one I knew personally (other than my mother and mother-in-law) had any idea what I was going through. I was scared out of my mind.

Thankfully, I had the Internet.

Wait. Hear me out.

Believe me, I know the Internet and the social media communities it hosts can be toxic; the two years I spent running RVANews and the almost six years I've been maintaining my personal blog have shown me that. I also should caution all soon-to-be parents to avoid Google as much as possible, lest you be bombarded with blog comments and message boards proclaiming "OMG YOUR BAYBEE IS GONNA HAVE FOUR EYES GO TO THE ER NOW :("

But! When used wisely, the Internet and social media can also serve as sources of comfort and empowerment for expectant parents trying to figure just what they hell they're doing. I'll even go so far to say that they were absolutely essential in making me feel prepared for pregnancy, birth, and raising a child.

The online pregnancy and infant-care guides were amazingly helpful once I figured out which ones felt trustworthy to me (specifically this one, this one, and this one), but it was really the relationships I have developed through the Internet and social media that have made all the difference in my life as parent. Posting about life as a expectant and new mother on my blog, Facebook, and Twitter (as obnoxious as some people might think that is) helped me make connections with women going through the same experiences -- connections that aren't any less real or valuable to me than those established "in real life."

A couple weeks prior to giving birth to my son, I sent an email to Patience (who I wouldn't meet in person until about six months later) seeking out encouragement and wisdom because the connection we had nurtured in a purely online setting felt safe to me. When I was up feeding my baby at 1am (and 3am, and 5am…) I was blessed by conversation and camaraderie with other mothers who were also posting on Twitter as they nursed their little ones in those wee hours of the morning -- little ones who my son now calls his friends. These days I'm able to reach out to fellow parents about everything from potty training tips to book recommendations to tricks for getting a toddler to eat something other than bread. Do I listen to everything this online posse tells me? No. But the fact that they even care to answer is comforting. I feel like I've got a tribe at the ready who I can turn to when I need them, particularly during those moments (and there are many) when I look at my child and think "I….have no idea what to do here."

Sure, I realize my insight into this matter might not carry much weight because I've never not had the Internet and social media during my life as a parent; I have no basis of comparison. But I think I'd be accurate in saying that their influence has likely spared me from the isolation and loneliness often experienced by new mothers. They helped fill a role that, at the time, my friends just couldn't. I felt heard, supported, and (yep, I'm going to say it) loved in a very real way… even if it was through just 140 characters a pop.

Ok, it's your turn

How have the Internet and social media affected your parenting experience? Are they a blessing or a curse? Maybe both?

Raising Richmond: Baby, you’re a firework!

Patience Salgado — Tue, 21 Jun 2011 10:00:16 +0000

It’s firework time kids: let the dangers and awesomeness of sparklers begin!

While we were waiting to make late night dreamy summer memories, we found this cool t-shirt craft for kids from Wondertime. It’s a mix between tie-dye goodness and crazy science--except a lot less work and mess.

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What you'll need

White t-shirts (cotton)
Permanent markers
Alcohol
Medicine droppers (or you can recycle those old infant Tylenol droppers)
Drinking glasses
Rubber bands
Vinegar

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We put the shirt over the glass and wrapped the rubber band around until it was taut.

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The kids drew their designs. You can put a water bottle cap in the center and draw around it with dots and lines for a nice firework effect. Some kids, however, just drew whatever they wanted! After your design is finished drop 20-50 drops of alcohol in the middle.

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The ink will move and mix with the alcohol resulting in really cool art. The kids experimented with the alcohol technique to get a couple of different looks.

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After you are all done and in total awe of your creative super powers, you can drop a little vinegar over the designs to help the colors set. Drop the t-shirts in the dryer (do not wash first) for 20-30 minutes to finish.

The best part is this project was a hit with kids of all ages and easy to do with a gaggle. You know, for the four to five extra neighborhood kids that show up at your door. We also recommend some Katy Perry to complete the experience. Firework on friends! Happy 4th!

Raising Richmond: Flying solo or with the fam?

Patience Salgado — Tue, 24 May 2011 10:00:30 +0000

Today's question: Does your family live nearby or far away? How has this affected your parenting experience?

Patience Salgado

“Do you want to move to Portland? I found an apartment on Craigslist last night!” I said, chattering, one morning after a hectic week. He laughed and shook his head because he knows I am just a little bit crazy and serious.

If you can move almost 1,000 miles away from your family with an 8-week old baby while in crazy debt to work long hours at a manual labor job once, you can do it again. But 10 years and three kids later, I do wonder just how we survived at times. There are moments when you have tapped the friend resource and there are just some things only your mom can do for you.

I mean, who voluntarily comes over to your house and just spontaneously starts wiping down counter tops and picking up clothes to drop in your washing machine? Who insists we should go to Costco because you should have at least 12 rolls of the best paper towels and also buys you the quart of fresh raspberries?

There is no doting large awkward group wildly cheering at your kid’s kindergarten play. No sleepovers at the grandparent’s house while they let you stay up too late and always have Hershey chocolate bars lying around. No wacky goodness like Modern Family, and the babysitting sitch totally blows. I have learned when there is no rescue or relief on the horizon, tearful phone calls just have to do.

Yet every visit with those you love and miss is like Santa’s arrival in the flesh, and road trip kids are on their best behavior because the destination is so sweet. Kvetching and hen pecking from well-meaning family members can be tolerated in small doses and kept at bay. The people, friends, and neighbors around you get sucked into your growing family, and you start creating little mini communes everywhere you go. You even call yourself a commune-ist and make T-shirts.

It is required life learning to discover both how strong you are and, at the same time, how much you need. You are forced to ask for help and still figure it out on your own. More than all the good and even the bad, there is a feeling that in the end, the family you created is the one you stand firmly in. Wherever you are, whoever is around, whatever comes and goes, I know this ground is solid for me.

Valerie Catrow

When my husband and I were in talks about where we'd live after graduating from college and getting married, we floated a few ideas around. Seattle was a possibility, as were Northern Virginia and Maryland -- basically it came down to where Ross got a job (I had a teaching license, and in '03 that meant school districts were throwing jobs at you). As fate would have it, we ended up staying in Richmond, the place where I was born and pretty much every single member of my family lived (and has lived and still lives, forever and ever amen).

The fact that we'd be putting down roots near those planted by my family was neither a pro nor a con in our decision-making process; it kind of was what it was. But now that we've had a kid? Don't even try to talk to me about moving out of this town, away from my family. I will hear nothing of it.

Now before you think my family is all hugs and kisses and Sunday dinners around the backyard picnic table, let me assure you: that is not the case. Many of them have crazy potential, each in very different and special ways. We have our drama, our baggage, our "Are you SERIOUSLY bringing that up again?" issues like every other family (maybe more so in some cases). Meanwhile, our son JR has three sets of grandparents in town to consider, so negotiating and navigating the holidays are enough to make you (read: me) want to smash your head against a brick wall and be done with it.

But they're all here. They're present and available and constant in my son's life in a way that, having experienced it, I wouldn't trade for anything.

Some highlights...

My in-laws (who also live here) cleaned our house and stocked our pantry while I was laid up in bed recovering from a traumatic birth and an unexpected C-section.

During the days shortly after my son's birth, my mother stopped by on her lunch hours to bring me clothes that fit, help with nursing issues, and hold the baby while I slept.

My father and step-mother were able to bring my then 98-year-old grandmother to the hospital so she could hold her first great grandchild just hours after he was born. Two years later, he was there to help her celebrate her 100th birthday. (Excuse me while I weep for a second.)

When I went back to work at just 7 weeks postpartum, I was able to leave my son with my mother-in-law, saving me from (some of) that anxiety so many working mothers feel when they have to leave their babies in someone else's care. And when she got sick, my father and sister stepped in, without hesitation, to pitch-hit until I got a more permanent childcare situation.

But it's not just those big moments that make me grateful to have family close by. It's the every day stuff: the impromptu lunch dates; the hands-on grandparent support for potty training; the slew of babysitters itching to keep him for a sleepover so we can get a night alone; the long, leisurely visits waiting for us at the end of just a 20 minute drive. I feel like these little things are true blessings for our son (and us) because they enable our extended family to really be a part of JR's daily life -- to let them learn what makes him tick, and for him to learn about them in the same way. I love that JR could potentially learn to play guitar from his Uncle Bryan or piano from his Aunt Robin. I love that he could grow to appreciate golf through his Grandpa's devotion to it. I love that he's absorbed his Mamaw's love for digging in the dirt and his Papaw's love for doing things "just so."

I'm sure if Ross and I had ended up moving out of town, our son's relationships with his extended family would still be special and meaningful. And I think there's definitely truth to the whole "absence makes the heart grow fonder" perspective; it's easy to take something for granted if it's always there, right in front of you. But I try not to because I know that these people -- these wonderful, crazy people that drive me nuts like only family can -- will shape and color my son's childhood in a way that just can't be matched. So here we are and here we will stay. I hope they will, too. (And if they don't, I will find them. I've also got my own special brand of crazy.)

Raising Richmond: Post-Mother’s Day reflections

Patience Salgado — Tue, 10 May 2011 10:00:02 +0000

As you know, Mother's Day was on Sunday, so we thought it only appropriate to have our resident mamas (sure, that could be a thing) reflect on the day...and motherhood in general, really. We hope you'll share your thoughts as well.

The Mama Juggle

At precisely 3:52pm on Mother’s Day, fathers all over start to wonder how much longer the holiday will go on. It’s a long day starting with breakfast in bed at 6:32am because small children could barely contain the excitement. And mothers everywhere are keenly aware of the next morning's post-Mother’s Day re-entry and all that is waiting after a day off.

We scrounge up breakfast, we tie shoes, we Febreeze stinky shoes, we clean up those awful missed pee streams around the toilet, we shop feverishly at Target for some thing cute, we marvel that early 90’s fashion is back, we count down from 5 (a lot!), we listen to tween woes and attitude, we read Eric Carle books 1,000 times and let small insistent people turn the pages, we make entire dinners with one hand and a baby on our hip, we finish work reports after everyone is in bed, we rewash the same sour load of laundry 3 times, we forget permission slips and drive them to school, we join running groups and feel proud, we cry, we say “see ya later alligator” to adults on accident, we leak from our boobs and rock babies in the dark night, we laugh at knock-knock jokes that have no punchline, we marvel at our children’s abilities, we believe in the people they are, we beg/bribe babysitters, we get WAY too involved at school, we do our art, we keep tabs of the progress of our quiet or growing dreams, we worry, about almost everything, we shrik our girlfriends, we pound the pavement in our day jobs, we shout loudly about causes and the things we care about, we advocate for our kids and others, we drink wine in the sacred circle of women, we hate being called soccer moms, we listen to NPR just to keep tabs on all that is happening in the world that we miss, we get lost in both frivolous and meaty books, we push kids in swings and soak up the sun, we worry about worrying, we give and love...and love and give.

At the end of every day, I rest my head on the pillow and wonder if it is enough, wonder what I missed or search for some way to do it better. I often feel as though I am half-assing everything I am holding and doing. I have no idea who threw in the fire baton in my juggling act or why I can’t seem to keep it all going. Then I realize, no one ever asked me to start juggling fire and everyone around me hates the circus anyway.

We hate it because somewhere along the way, we told mamas that life must be the show: amazing, astounding, and we are responsible for it all. We created the illusion that this role, life, and job is sequins, painted faces and perfection when really the whole gig is kinda slapstick.

We tell ourselves we must be the only one who can’t quite hack it, can’t find the balance. We try so very hard at keeping it all together. The secret truth is, there is a place for every woman -- a place where there is no balance, no right way, no thoughtful response, no barrier, no fear, no perfection, no layer left. It is this place where the real beauty resides, where truth reigns, where courage begins, where our children can really see life, where we find love, where we can rest.

...and it’s about 3:52pm, mamas. We are all due for some rest.

Ask and you shall receive (and if you don't, you won't)

So Mother's Day was on Sunday. I hope yours was a good one. Mine? Well, it was…fine.

OK, it kind of sucked.

I spent the morning in tears, moped through the afternoon, and went to bed with a tension headache from a day furrowing my eyebrows.

Before you wield your pitchforks and make your way to the RVANews office to run my husband through, it's not Ross's fault. It's not anyone's fault. In fact, the circumstances leading to my Mother's Day of Woe were pretty typical of the obstacles I face on this journey of motherhood.

Let me back up a bit.

A couple weeks before Mother's Day, as is customary, my husband asked me how I'd like to celebrate. I told him, "Oh, I'd just like a couple hours to myself."

Here's where I need to point out that my husband communicates more explicitly than anyone on the planet. Not surprisingly, he also (reasonably) expects others to do the same when he asks them a straight-out question. So when I said, "Oh, I'd just like a couple hours to myself" he heard "Oh, I'd just like a couple hours to myself" and made arrangements to make it happen.

I know this about my husband. And yet I woke up Sunday morning expecting…something. Sure, "Happy Mother's Day!" and "I love you!" were the first words my husband and son said to me that day. But that was it. And I was sad.

As I saw Facebook and Twitter posts of the flowers and framed fingerpaintings other mothers were receiving throughout the day, I got sadder, immediately thinking that my husband must not value me as a mother because he didn't get my son to create a delightfully disastrous paper-and-glue masterpiece just for me. And then when my husband took our son to church that afternoon, leaving me with almost THREE HOURS to myself -- as I had specifically requested! -- I got even sadder.

Now I know what some of you are thinking: "Well he should've known that you wanted a little something." Personally, I don't subscribe to that approach in our relationship because I don't think it's fair. I'm a big girl; if I want or need something, I need to ask for it. Even saying "I'd like you to do something special*" would've been enough. But I didn't do that. And I spent the day miserable…and basically made my husband (my poor husband who actually LISTENED to me) miserable right along with me.

It wasn't until later that evening, as I was lying in bed trying to massage the furrow-induced wrinkles out of my brow, that I saw the connection between how this Mother's Day played out and what I do to myself in my daily life as a mother: I didn't communicate what I needed and wanted from others (namely, my partner) and I had unfair expectations.

Typically, when it comes to parenthood and marriage, I have those unfair expectations for myself: if my child, my husband, and myself aren't perfectly content and fabulous at all times (regardless of life's circumstances) then I have failed. Period. On Sunday, I twisted those unreasonable expectations around to my husband, and he failed, as WE ALL DO AND WILL. Seeing how sad that made him -- how miserable he was seeing me miserable -- was a huge realization for me, a realization that I put myself through that pressure and self-judgment almost every single day when it comes to motherhood. And for what? A completed to-do list? Endearing/impressive anecdotes to share on Facebook? A nice pat on the back and "good job" from the universe as a whole? Hell if I know. But what I do know is that I won't write off Mother's Day 2011 as The Mother's Day of Mope and Woe. Instead, I'm looking at it as the Mother's Day when I accepted what motherhood has to mean for me if I'm going to make it through: openness, honesty, and cutting everyone a little slack…especially myself.

*Incidentally, I told him today, "Next Mother's Day, I would like you to do something special -- either a gift or something that you and JR make together that will make me say 'Awww' and that I can keep." So next year, we're golden.

Mom Kindness 101

Patience Salgado — Thu, 05 May 2011 16:00:05 +0000

Mother's Day is the queen of all kindness opportunities -- the big enchilada if you will. It is more than a Hallmark card scheme or the busiest restaurant day of the year, it is your chance to let her know she is indeed a positive force in your life, you know, since she gave you life or chose you for her own and all. And besides all that, kindness is some pretty powerful stuff, guaranteed to melt her.

Ask her what she wants

It's totally OK to ask your mom what she might want for Mother's Day. Depending on her level of Mom Martyrdom (we all have just a touch) she may just tell you exactly what she wants. If she gives you a "Just your love honey!" answer, you may have to switch it up and get tricky trickster with her. Ask her what the perfect Mother's Day looks like beginning to end, morning to night. And, if your mother ASKS for a vacuum, she probably really wants it, if she doesn't ask, it's a bad idea -- trust me!

It doesn't have to be big, but it should be thoughtful

It is the thought that counts, but the THOUGHT part is most capital. Don't half ass it if you don't have the funds. Take the time to make a homemade card or pick wildflowers. A grown dude coming home with wildflowers he picked from a field for his mother will become a legend among mothers (and chicks). Mothers also have a built-in BS meter, even if we don't always want to admit it, so make it genuine and real.

Do something for someone else

This is a lovely extra for mother's day, the icing on the cake. Sometimes it means more to know your kids are being agents of kindness in the world, carrying on what you have offered them in their lives. It is pretty much every mother's hope that their kids will be awesome human beings and kind members of society. Do a kind act in her honor or reach out to a sibling to come up with an idea- now that is the triple word score! Take a gift or drop in on someone older she has been bugging you to visit, go mow a lawn, take the grandkids with you, all of it will be meaningful to her.

Tell her what she has done

When you are in the thick of parenting or even beyond it, it is hard to remember that you're actually helping someone grow into a person. It is good to be reminded in some form - card, blog post, video, anything that you can return to over and over again. Write down five things you have learned -- things you know she wanted you to know about life that she intentionally or unintentionally taught you. She needs to know what she does matters.

Give her a wish or blessing.

So, believe it or not, your mom is actually a person. I know, shocking. She probably has her own dreams, adventures, hopes, and ideas swirling around in her head. It might be something she is working hard at or something you don't even know about, but Mother's Day is a perfect time to call it out. Make just one wish or blessing for her, write it down and hide it somewhere in her house for her to find. Discover your inner guerrilla kindness superpower and hide 20 if this calls to you. They can be simple: "I hope this is the year you get to go back to school, mom," "May this year be full of crazy mad giant tomatoes in your garden," "Mom, may this year you discover a new part of yourself, just waiting to be seen," or "May a big traveling adventure unfold for you." Whatever it is, it is kindness to see all the parts of your mom, not just the mom person.

Do 1 of these ideas: You are well on your way to getting the kindness badge. It's super cute by the way.

Do 2 of these ideas: It's safe to say you have the kindness high, and will now be hooked.

Do 3- 4 of these ideas: Your mom will be beaming; she will be an old lady repeating stories of fabulous mother's day past. She will totally forget all the things you broke over the years.

Do all 5 of these ideas: All the other mothers secretly hate your mother, and wish their kids were as awesome. No, for real, you know or are learning how to love and be loved well.

Raising Richmond: One or more?

Patience Salgado — Tue, 29 Mar 2011 10:00:31 +0000

The decision to start a family is big enough, but what's even more daunting is figuring out how big you'd like that family to be. So, for today's topic... multiple children vs. the only child.

Please note that we're not trying to argue about which is better. We just hope that by sharing how our families ended up looking the way they do that you'll feel encouraged to do the same. We can't wait to read your thoughts.

Patience Salgado

“What? How many kids do you have?”

I have already said "four" but there is almost always a double take. I like to think it is because I look too young to have such a gaggle, but I’m pretty sure it is more about the actual number. There is usually a head nod along with a “Wow! Wow, you sure have your hands full.” I can tell they are secretly thanking their lucky stars they are not me or wondering if I’m fundy religious. It’s funny, but I don’t think 15 or twenty years ago having four children was such a big deal, but it is today.

I can’t blame people exactly because when I see a family of five out, I get all Judgy Joanna and think, “Can you imagine FIVE?!” This also makes me laugh as it is only one more than my brood. As the opinions are flying around in the air and in people’s heads, I must tell you, big families are magic.

There is something about being your own tribe. You don’t need to join the party because you are the party. Kids have to learn how to navigate relationships with lots of different people, live in a space together, find their individuality among a group, and still have lots of layers of love around them.

It isn’t always the Partridge Family either; there was a point when we realized that caring for these little people cost more than we had imagined. It is taxing on a marriage to have four little children. For years we lived in less than 1200 sq. feet (we’ve graduated to 1500), our kids aren’t involved in lots of activities, and they share A LOT. I wonder if I am missing any of their tiny emotional cues or struggles just because things are often chaotic. I have no clue how we will pay for college. Not to mention, there are many moments of feeling overwhelmed and exhausted.

Yet when I watch them push each other on the tire swing, huddle together under a blanket on a tiny couch to watch a movie, have massive tickle fights or dog pile, and defend or comfort each other, I feel so blown away by the joy that exists because of who they are, because they have each other. When things are hairy, I reflect on the wisdom of my own mom. “Honey, when you are old, you will wish you had more children.” I think she may just be right.

Valerie Catrow

Whenever I mention that our son JR might end up being an only child, I get one of two responses:

1. But he's going to be lonely/narcissistic/weird!
2. That's really selfish of you.

The point about loneliness is valid, and I get where people are coming from. But, as my husband pointed out to me recently, people like what they know. Not once has someone who grew up as an only child voiced those concerns to me. And when it comes to the narcissism and weirdness thing, I think we can all agree that only children don't necessarily corner the market on those qualities; they arise from a variety of upbringings, as do their more positive counterparts. It's up to us as parents to provide experiences that highlight and nurture the good.

As far as the selfishness accusation goes…well, I'm a bit baffled by it, probably because I've been hearing it so much lately (my son is two, the age at which many people start hearing rumblings of a sibling in their not-so-distant future). Is that what people really think of intentional parents of only children? Is it selfish of us to want to keep our family as it is: a tight-knit, peaceful, loving little nest of three?

For me, considering the one-child path isn't about body issues or sleep or money -- many seem to assume that those three factors are solely what drives the decision to raise only children.

It's about a feeling in my gut…or current lack thereof, really.

When we started trying to get pregnant just over three years ago, I had a deep-seated, desire for a baby; I felt it down to my core. I was going to be someone's mama, come hell or high water. I’ve done that now. I’m doing it. I don’t think I necessarily have to do it multiple times over to make motherhood more real or fulfilling for me. Having another child (or having a child at all) is not something I want to be on the fence about. I think we owe it to Hypothetical Baby #2 to be sure, to wait for that feeling in my gut that it's time. Currently my gut is most decidedly quiet on the matter.

Do I miss the excitement of expecting a baby? Sure. Am I wistful for the days spent smelling a delicious baby head? Absolutely. But raising a child goes beyond those first few years of onesies and chubby toddler cheeks/thighs/everything. We want to make sure that if we do ever end up actively pursuing another pregnancy that it's not because we feel like it's expected of us or we miss our son's babyhood. We'll pursue it if/when we genuinely feel that our family is incomplete. These days, when I look around the dinner table, I feel like we're all here -- and happy to boot.

But who knows? Nothing is set in stone. I could be unexpectedly pregnant as I'm writing this (IRONY!) or our feelings could change as soon as this piece is published. Kids have an incredible ability to change your heart. What I know for sure is that right now, we're happy with how things are. Our team of three: one mom, one dad, and one completely awesome kid who is our everything.

Raising Richmond: Talking about tragedy

Patience Salgado — Tue, 15 Mar 2011 10:00:09 +0000

Earthquakes, tsunamis, nuclear reactor dangers -- it’s hard to wrap your head around such a tragedy. Add the image of children experiencing such events, and it is more than this mother's heart can take. It is almost as if we try to carry just a tiny bit of the collective heart-burden the people of Japan are holding, and yet there is no way we possibly can because we have absolutely no idea what they are going through. Our own children -- who we are now holding a little closer -- are asking questions, their own hearts are trying just like ours.

What do we do? How do we help kids, and ourselves, deal with all that has unfolded? How do we talk about it all? How can we offer what we have to help each other?

Here are a few ideas for you and the people you love:

Be sensitive to kids that may already have tendencies to experience anxiety, worry, and stress.

These are often kids that have some kind of previous experience with a natural disaster or a personal trauma such as being separated from parents, illness, death, or even a traumatic divorce. Children that have learning or emotional problems may be particularly affected.

Limit media exposure but not conversation.

Very small children can be confused by repetitive images and may believe the event is happening over and over again. Because of their ego-centric development they can also anticipate or worry the event will happen to them. Turning off the TV or radio for awhile might be a good idea. Because it is probably impossible to shield kids from all exposure it is good to talk about what happened and answer all their questions.

Keep your recap of the events brief, simple, and direct. You can follow up with the reassurance of their current safety. Answer questions honestly -- even admitting if you don’t know the answer. Find a trusted source and be sure to follow up with new found information.

Make a Worry Box.

There are moments that even with all the answers and reassurance we still carry fear and worry in our hearts. The ritual or act of attaching our worry to something physical may help let it go. Grab an old shoe box or any other box in your recycling bin. Gather markers, glue, pretty paper, words cut out of magazines, anything full of color that inspires you. Tell your kids that together you are going to create a box to hold all of the worries that we may be holding so we no longer have to. Decorate the boxes with words and pictures that remind us we are loved and cared for. Cut a hole in the top and keep a pad or strip of paper next to your box. Anytime someone has a concern they can write it down and slide it in the box.

Younger kids can draw pictures or have an adult dictate the words to be written on the paper. Something small and tangible like this reminds us we don’t have to hold it all.

Join the relief effort.

We can’t change the pain or grief people are enduring, but we can offer ourselves and resources to support them. Is there a way your family can do a project to raise some funds for the Red Cross? Does your kid make some of those rad thread bracelets they can sell? How about a neighborhood bake sale? What about a gallery night with your children’s art being sold? Ask your kids, I bet they have some great ideas about how you can be part of the rebuilding process by contributing or sharing. Even little children can be part of a bigger effort. Having something to do gives all of us hope. (Not sure where to start? The New York Times has compiled a great list of relief efforts.)

Information gathered from NYU Child Study Center.

Raising Richmond: Letters to our pregnant selves

Patience Salgado — Tue, 01 Mar 2011 11:00:50 +0000

Editor's note: Today's feature is the latest installment of our parenting column written by two Richmond mothers: Patience Salgado (veteran mother of four gorgeous children), and Valerie Catrow (a parenting rookie who has only been doing this "raising a child thing" for a little while). Check back fortnightly to watch them discuss/agree/disagree/throw down over all kinds of parenting issues, Richmond-related and beyond.

Pregnancy is a scary time for moms-to-be. The physical changes and uncertainties about what life will be like after the baby comes lead to a lot of fear and anxiety for some women. In an effort to offer comfort (and a little advice) to those expecting a child soon (and to those who have recently brought home their new bundles of joy), we present today's question:

If you could write a letter to your first-time pregnant self, what would you say?

Dear Pregnant Patience,

I know you are in total shock. I mean, who knew an antibiotic could mess with your birth control? It’s ok, maybe you weren’t supposed to catch that information this go around anyway. There are some things you should probably know, because I know you’ll be obsessing over information, trying to get it all right, and worrying about the unknown. Here are some mad tips from the future. Just call me Marty McFly.

1. Spend some money on cute maternity clothes. Don’t be a cheapo, do something nice for yourself because you are gonna have like a gaggle of kids. Go big for jeans; you’ll be wearing those bad boys for quite some time.

2. Take the time to celebrate. Throw one of those awesome gender reveal parties with all your friends. Make it pretty and fun, send home awesome party favors -- the kind people actually use and like. Have a blessingway, too. Don’t be afraid to let people show their love for you, even if you don’t like being the center of attention.

3. Pick a care provider that feels kind of like a mom. The nurturing, you-are-finding-your-own-way kind of mom, not the I-know-it-all and you-just-wait variety. Pick someone that really listens and is older and wise -- this is a good match for you.

4. Let your husband take care of you. I know you really love to pretend to be Wonder Woman because let’s face it, that cape is awesome, but skip it this time. There will be plenty of moments to show your power, so let the people closest to you care for your body and soul. Sometimes it takes more courage to say what you need and want anyway.

5. Tell your story. You are creating and living your story, so capture it beautifully. Pay to have that maternity photo session, write in your journal or blog. You’ll forget all the little things along the way that turned you into a parent. You’ll totally laugh at yourself later, but it’s good to see and remember how far you’ve come and how much you cared.

6. Forget the haters. Now is not the time to listen to 57,000 bad birth stories and how you’ll never sleep again. Surround yourself with people and other parents that you really respect and people who believe in you. You know your life will change, but walk the road with people who can be both honest and offer hope.

7. You don’t have to please everyone. If there was ever a time in your life when you can be selfish, it is now. Protect your space and mind, forget being polite, let your husband run interference for you about all the topics you are avoiding and boundaries that need to be made. You are having a baby with him, not the rest of the world.

8. Take the Babymoon and make it long. Hole up after that baby is born. Lay around, nurse, forget the clock entirely. Get lost in baby goodness and don’t stress about sleep or accomplishing anything. Just be. For the love of all things holy, DO NOT worry about your body. It will return, not totally the same but don’t make any snap judgments two seconds after you have a baby. This one will be hard for you but you can let go.

9. Be vulnerable. You don’t have to have it all sorted out or even know what you are doing. You have a lovely intuition and will be fine but remember, you can just let it unfold and learn together. The baby will help show you the way. Trust each other.

How did you get so chatty? I know, you are one of those, but it’s really fine. Oh, and one more thing, you’ll be kind of sad so I’m telling you now; there are no flying cars in the future. There is however, a really rad, happy life ahead.

Dear Hugely Pregnant Valerie,

I know you're feeling pretty overwhelmed right now -- physically and emotionally. There's not much I can do about the physical part (other than to tell you to stop re-folding onesies and go to sleep already), but hopefully I can assuage some of your fears about the other stuff. And I know you've got them because, well, I am you; fretting is kind of your default until you've had time to process a situation.

Your impending labor and delivery experience is weighing heavily on your mind right now, so rest in the knowledge that it will be wonderful. Things will not go at all according to (your) plan, and it will be a long, hard process… but it will still be wonderful. And if I may be a tad feisty for a moment? Don't let anyone tell you that how that baby ends up getting here is any indication of how strong of a woman you are (because there will be some who will try to suggest that). Remember that you need to make decisions that are best for your health, the baby's safety, and for your family. Frankly, it's not anyone else's business -- and feel free to tell them that if they get pushy (because some of them will).

As far as the day-to-day things those first few months, know these things:

No one cares what the baseboards look like except you.
Changing out of your pajamas makes a world of difference.
Staying in your pajamas also makes a world of difference.
Drink water. And when you think you've had enough water to drink, go ahead and have some more.
Your child will poop in the bathtub. Yes, it's gross, but it's really not a big deal.
The one time you don't have a burp cloth on your shoulder is when your child will vomit down your back.
When you're packing up the diaper bag, be sure to toss in an extra shirt for yourself. Trust me.
If something is worrying you, call your child's pediatrician. If he/she is annoyed with a brand new mother calling often, he/she probably shouldn't be in the business of caring for infants. (Note: our pediatrician was always lovely about our calls, and I can't imagine the blubbering mess I would have been if he weren't.)

Now on to the less tangible things...

I feel like I need to be upfront and tell you that things will be hard at first -- harder than you ever, ever thought possible. Not so much because of the exhaustion; loneliness is going to be the big one for you. As you know, you're the first in your group of close friends to have a baby, and that can be isolating at times. But it doesn't have to! Everyone you know will be champing at the bit to spend time with you and your new little one. When they say they want to come over to chat, help you fold laundry, go for a walk, etc… THEY MEAN IT! Take them up on it! Don't let yourself fall into the trap of thinking that accepting help means you can't do it all yourself. Just because you can doesn't mean you should. And that handsome, blue-eyed gentleman who helped get you into this situation? He also means it when he says he wants to help. Let him. Please?

Lest you think the coming months (and years) will be all woe and uncertainty, know that you've got so much goodness coming. It will reveal itself in a variety of ways -- through moments of pure joy and after moments of complete brokenness. Carrying, birthing, and raising your kid will teach you more about yourself and how you want fit into this world than anything you've yet to experience. Your highs will be higher, your lows lower -- probably because you will feel like you have more at stake now. Certain things will start to matter less to you, while others will matter so much more. Be open to these shifts and let yourself change if you need to. There's a certain rawness to this mothering thing that will leave you feeling constantly exposed and vulnerable...but in the absolutely best way possible. There's no such thing as feeling too much or loving too much. Don't fight it; use it.

You're gonna be great, kid.

Much love,

Me (which is You, I guess, but we're much less huge now and not at all pregnant)

PS: You were right. It's a boy.

Now it's your turn...

If you could write a letter to the first-time pregnant or first-time parent version of yourself, what would you say? Knowing what you know now, what advice or inspiration would you share?

Raising Richmond: Q & A with Maggi Tinsley

Patience Salgado — Tue, 15 Feb 2011 11:00:06 +0000

Editor's note: Don't worry, you're in the right place. While we typically use Raising Richmond as a place to discuss parenting topics/issues/concerns, we've decided to add another facet (if you will) to our child-rearing exploration by introducing you to some of RVA's most interesting parents. We hope their stories inspire you to share yours.

Maggi Tinsley, the true blue North Carolina native and Duke grad, found herself in good old RVA where she got her MFA in poetry at VCU. After stints at the Valentine Richmond History Center and the Virginia Center for Architecture, Maggi now serves as the Marketing and PR queen at the Visual Arts Center of Richmond. Maggi jumped into creating her family in 2002 and again in 2006 when she adopted her two daughters from Hunan Province in the People's Republic of China. When she isn't on an adventure with her girls, you can find her gathering women textile artists for her infamous Stitch & Bitch meeting every month.

Did you always think or know you would be a parent or did your own journey surprise you?

I didn't always know I would be a parent. I didn't play with dolls much, nor did I love babysitting. As a teen I was influenced by the Zero Population Growth movement and thought I shouldn't have kids. I've mostly been un-partnered, so the choice was mine alone. When my 40th birthday approached, I realized I didn't want to miss out on motherhood, so I started exploring my options.

What do you miss about pre-kid days?

Because I enjoyed my pre-kid days fully -- traveling at the drop of a hat, staying up late reading or writing, seeing every movie in the theater -- I don't miss much. I had two decades for me, so I'm ready to give my girls their turn. I have a weekly sitter, so I still get to movies and concerts, if not so many readings and openings. I miss a regular exercise routine, which is hard to maintain as a solo parent.

What is your favorite age/stage and why?

I love five, with its joy of discovery and the inching toward independence that I see again in my younger daughter now.

What one thing surprised you about parenting? or your kid/kids?

My reserves of patience surprised me. I wasn't particularly impatient before kids, but I can really wait things out now -- meals, tantrums, "me-do-it" moments, elaborate tales. Taking up knitting may have helped.

What do you love most about being a parent?

I love sharing my girls' pride in accomplishment, seeing them choose kindness, getting their hugs and kisses. Especially the hugs and kisses.

How has parenting changed you?

In addition to expanding my patience, parenting has reorganized my priorities; my kids come before my career, volunteer commitments, even some friends. Parenting also wears me out! But while I currently lack the intellectual energy that I used to apply to my writing, I still have an outlet for my creativity in my fibery pursuits.

What is your most favorite thing to do with your kid/kids?

I love to make things with them: cookies, table forts, snow angels, fairy houses, necklaces. An art project begun together can engross me for hours to the point that I neglect to notice they've wandered off. I also love wandering outdoors, in our neighborhood or farther afield.

How do you get out of the occasional parenting funk?

First, I breathe. Then I go find the be-ribboned binder ring of customized, handwritten "parenting blessings" a supermama left on my doorstep one difficult day. If I need a break, my wonderful brother is usually willing to make an impromptu visit from across the river.

Give us one good parenting confession. We know you have at least one!

Once I was so angry that I left the house, slammed the door, got in the car and drove away. We all had a tearful reunion when I returned five minutes later from my trip around the block.

What is your parenting superpower?

My parenting superpower comes via those eyes in the back of my head. So far the extra pair has kept my girls from trying anything sneaky.

Do you think you grew up differently than your kids are or is it pretty much the same?

First, the differences are obvious: I had two parents to whom I was biologically connected from the moment I was conceived, while my daughters only know this mother they've had from the ages of 12 and 19 months. The world has changed hugely since my childhood of free-ranging the neighborhood until dinnertime and coming home to the offerings of three TV networks. But important things are the same: our home is filled with love, we try to treat each other with kindness, we watch ACC basketball and we read the New York Times on Sunday. None of us had much time with grandparents, but we are blessed with the fruits of their success.

Did you turn into your parents?

[As] much as I loved my late parents, I can't turn into them. My mother was generationally even more than her 35 years older than me -- baby of her family, relatively sheltered until marriage. Never married, I've built a career and had a breadth and depth of experiences she did not, including adopting my children. But I think of my parents all the time, and hope I am a parent of whom they would be proud, even as I do it my own way.

What do you want your kids to know or say about you when you are old and gray?

I want them to know AND say that I loved, guided and encouraged them, that I listened AND heard them, and that I believed in them. I hope that they treat others with kindness and become their own true selves. And I hope I'm around to see them blossom!

Know of a Richmond mom or dad we should interview? Should we talk to YOU? Send us an email and let us know.

Raising Richmond: Superpowers and kryptonite

Patience Salgado — Tue, 18 Jan 2011 17:00:40 +0000

Editor's note: Today's feature is the newest installment of our parenting column written by two sets of Richmonders: Jorge and Patience Salgado (veteran parents of four gorgeous children), and Ross and Valerie Catrow (new-ish parents of a lively and opinionated toddler). Check back fortnightly to watch them discuss/agree/disagree/throw down over all kinds of parenting issues, Richmond-related and beyond.

When it comes to parenting, we all have moments when we tend to shine and moments when we, well... don't. You know what we're talking about: times when you walk with your head a little higher, thinking to yourself, "I got this!" versus times that just bring you to your knees. So today's question is...

What is your parenting superpower? What is your parenting kryptonite?

Once you've read our stories, we hope you'll share yours. (And keep an eye out for more on this in the coming weeks -- it's going to be part of a new feature series we'll be doing with Raising Richmond.)

Patience Salgado

I wish we could all wear blue capes, declaring our superness like Grover. We spend far too much time obsessing over our failures as parents and not nearly enough time celebrating the goodness we are passing down to the people we love most in the world.

Even as I offer this lovely, feel-good parenting wisdom, I could barely come up with one parenting superpower myself. I think the second I find it and claim it, it will be doomed. It’s kind of like how we never mention when the baby is on a run of sleep -- it’s a parenting hocus pocus unspoken rule.

So I’m breaking code, the self judge and ridiculous superstition ones in particular: I have a superpower when it comes to kindness. My children have had lots of opportunities to experience and offer it in a multitude of ways. I married my husband because I saw it so deeply in him. It is a requirement in our house, but at moments we have had to navigate what it looks like in all different kinds of situations. We have found the play in kindness, the challenge of kindness, even the dark side of kindness.

It is the one thing I hope my children know deep in their bones when they leave us someday. I hope it gives them comfort, hope, direction, power and joy.

Unfortunately, unkindness is also my kryptonite -- that and whining. Children fighting, being mean, or complaining punches my buttons on so many levels. I seem to be able to resist at first but then I am drained pretty quickly. I turn into the opposite of super, let me tell you. With four children, big chunks of that superman-esque green rock conflict are bound to be thrown into the mix, even with all the pre-emptive kindness.

I have found that discovering your own kryptonite also tells you something about your superpower. It seems I have used kindness to avoid having to deal with conflict over the years. Learning to move through conflict is a biggie in personal development so I guess we are all learning.

The tricky thing about parenting is just when you think you got the groove of your superpower going on -- you are flying, busting through walls, saving the day -- something will change, someone will grow and you will be forced to discover a new superpower. I’m just hoping in the end, there are a whole lotta super people out there.

Ross Catrow

Guys! Dads are parents too! And to reinforce this as truth I, a dad myself, have arrived/returned to set down on these immutable ones-and-zeroes my opinions and thoughts on "parenting." This week's topic -- as you by now have learned -- is about parenting superpowers and parenting kryptonites. Let us begin with superpowers -- as a superhero you never want to give away your debilitating weaknesses if you can help it.

Children: they are often manipulative little monsters -- at least when they aren't performing an array of soul-melting cutenesses. Our child, who began his illustrious career of manipulation early in life, has since become a master in the dark art of bending our emotions to his black will. Luckily for me, and unbeknownst to him, I HAVE NO EMOTIONS. My heart is fashioned from unbending, gleaming steel that trucks no fuss regardless of how you gnash your terrible teeth and rend your terrible robes.

While this might seem like the markings of a deficient personality it actually has many benefits! Foremost of which is ignoring my little charlatan when he decides that two glasses of orange juice are simply insufficient if I wish to see him survive another second on this earth. I am unyielding when it comes to bedtime pleas and dinnertime choices. Oh, also when *someone* doesn't want to listen to Hot 100.9 anymore -- for some unfathomable reason.

Maybe that makes me a cruel and unusual father, BUT SO BE IT. I'm the adult, he's the child, I (typically) know best. I want to raise a human who understands that, sometimes, you can't always get what you want (but if he tries sometimes, etc).

Now, every superhero must have a weakness or they are bland, all powerful, and uninteresting (Aside: this is why Batman is way cooler than Superman. Superman has GODLIKE powers, Batman is just a badass dude). For me, and this is going to sound tres stupid, it is: vomit.

I mean its just vomit right? EVERYBODY'S GOT VOM. But, augh, I dunno. I can't handle it when my dogs puke, and I certainly can't handle it when another human boots in my vicinity. It's not that I'm a sympathetic barfer -- I'm not -- it's just the familiarity of the once-items in a steamy pool of human juice that gets me. The thing that once was, now is again, only in a putrified state. Basically, it is zombie food. Which is awful.

PLUS WHAT IF YOUR KIDS SPEWS IN YOUR MOUTH!?! Augh! The Humanity!

I thank my lucky stars I have a partner that is impervious to all expelled body fluids regardless of their shape, size, or putridocity. Actually, now that I think about it, my wife Val's superpower is vomiting. Not like she can vomit super human volumes, or with a super human exit velocity, but dealing with disgusting things is certainly a strength of hers. And considering her heart is most definitely *not* fashioned from unbending, gleaming steel (not that she's a pushover; she's just...humanish), I'd say we're a well-matched set.

Raising Richmond: Division of labor

Patience Salgado — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 17:00:08 +0000

Editor's note: Today's feature is the latest installment of our parenting column written by two Richmond mothers: Patience Salgado (veteran mother of four gorgeous children), and Valerie Catrow (a parenting rookie who has only been doing this "raising a child thing" for a little while). Check back fortnightly to watch them discuss/agree/disagree/throw down over all kinds of parenting issues, Richmond-related and beyond.

When two people make a home together, they'll eventually have to figure out who is going to be responsible for what. As complicated as that is, things get even trickier once kids get into the mix.

So today we're asking: Who does what in your house? Have you achieved an equal division of labor?

Patience Salgado

I should probably tell you I was the little girl who played house endlessly; it was my go-to for all pretend play. I literally dreamed of being a wife and a mother for over half of my life, and yes, in that June Cleaver kind of way. I still drool over those pretty aprons at Anthropologie that cost more than my couch, and yet I can’t even remember a time when I even thought to pull an apron out. The wave of feminist freedom kind of passed over my house growing up -- there was lots of honor and joy in tending to your home and rearing children.

I didn’t really realize that I had more of a self brewing or even considered a non-traditional way when it came to division of labor in our home and parenting. The interesting part was I think my husband would have been open. I just didn’t know any other way, and he was usually pretty exhausted from trying to make ends meet working a manual labor job with long hours. Even through all this, he found a way to bond with our kids, but I noticed the connection really growing when I weaned our first son.

As more children came along, tag teaming was required and the game was really on. I was totally not passing the ball at first. What if he dropped it? Not the baby, the ball. Well maybe the baby...you know what I mean. What if I was no longer the star player covering every man/problem and still making the winning shot? Not to mention the added bonus: Mary Martyr wins every argument. I was so crazy capable and thrived on chaos which drew out the growth process far longer than it should.

In the middle of all of my early days of uber-momness, I missed something so very important. It was okay if they needed to cry with him, if he didn’t anticipate their every need, if he dressed them in mismatched clothes and offered pizza for breakfast. I realized it was unfair to complain all the time about feeling tired and burnt when I was never willing to try another way. Even if we had to fumble to find a way to make it work, it was worth it for all of us.

So now co-parenting is as “co” as it gets around here, but the house work, well, oh don’t even talk to me about that. After 30 years of playing house, I have yet to figure out how to navigate who cleans what, mops a floor once in a blue moon, or takes out the trash. Maybe with all the co-parenting goodness, the kids will do it...or just pretend to.

Valerie Catrow

When my husband and I first got married, we slipped into what I guess you could call a "traditional" approach to running our household. I cooked and cleaned. He handled the money and dealt with the logistics of maintaining our home (this mostly involved making phone calls to service people because we just don't do home improvement very well).

About three months into this arrangement I realized I really hate cooking and he realized he detests talking on the phone (I don't claim to understand his feelings on this matter, but I will respect them). So we shifted things around a bit. He took over everything related to food (planning, shopping, and cooking), and I kept cleaning. I took over making sure our house didn't fall apart, and he kept up the finances. Save a few bumps in the road, things worked out pretty well.

This arrangement, however, isn't perfect. As you can imagine, there are tasks that don't fall neatly into our boxes labeled "food", "cleaning", "bills", and "maintenance". Like putting together paperwork to do our taxes or taking the car in for an oil change.

Or caring for a child.

Like most mothers of newborns, I took the lead in caring for our little boy during that first year. I was breastfeeding, I worked from home three days a week for the first several months of his life -- it made sense. Meanwhile, I was working 40 hours a week and still keeping up with all of the other household duties that were in my "jurisdiction". I was always overwhelmed, usually angry, and completely unwilling to ask for help. I kept thinking to myself, "Plenty of women do this and do it well. What is wrong with me?" Those thoughts, paired with a raging case of Working Mother's Guilt (once our son went into day care full-time, thanks to my ever-increasing workload), set me on a path of constantly trying to prove myself... to myself, I guess? Meanwhile, my husband was champing at the bit to help, but my epic stubbornness thwarted him at every turn.

I'd love to say a grand moment of clarity shifted things back into balance, but it really just took a lot of time and a lot of patience. As an added bonus, our son's needs got less mama-centric as he got older, and he became more interested in spending time with his father. Two years later, we've found our rhythm again. We still have our battles when working out the nuances of our daily life -- you know, periods where one of us feels as if we are carrying the heavier load -- but they usually just require a little extra effort in the communication department (and an occasional adjustment of expectations) to get ourselves back on track before resentment builds up.

More than anything, I think we're more willing to opt for communication over pouting these days because of our common goal: to give our son an example of a loving and supportive partnership where everyone feels heard and appreciated. Will we go off balance again? Without a doubt. But if our history is any indication, we'll get through it just fine.

As the editor of RVANews, Valerie Catrow spends most of her time wrangling people over email and muttering to herself about the content calendar. She also contributes to our parenting column while maintaining her own blog, Made in Richmond. It should be noted that she loves tots, both the potato and child varieties.

Now it's your turn

How is work divided up in your house? Do you feel like you and your partner have a good arrangement? We'd love to hear your thoughts.

Raising Richmond: Pushing through parenting fears

Patience Salgado — Tue, 07 Dec 2010 17:00:11 +0000

Editor's note: Today's feature is the latest installment of our parenting column written by two Richmond mothers: Patience Salgado (veteran mother of four gorgeous children), and Valerie Catrow (a parenting rookie who has only been doing this "raising a child thing" for a little while). Check back fortnightly to watch them discuss/agree/disagree/throw down over all kinds of parenting issues, Richmond-related and beyond.

Today's topic: We originally intended this installment to be about our thoughts on the free-range parenting movement versus the "helicopter" parent approach to having our kids out in the world. While we do touch on those ideas here, we both ended up going deeper than that. We'll hope you'll read our thoughts and then share yours.

Patience Salgado

I must tell you, I am a classic worrier. The truth is, I was one long before I had children. I’m not sure how the fear of things crept into my heart but it seems my mind can imagine all the worst possibilities in a flash of a moment. Even with all the doom and gloom, I have always had a strong desire to conquer and push past them. It all gets sort of gray though when I think about my kids.

When I first read about Lenore Skenazy and how she let her nine year old ride the subway by himself, I was kind of inspired. Lenore found herself in a media storm super fast and before she knew it, she was leading a movement of redefining this aspect of parenting. She proposes that we absolutely should value safety, but challenges us to consider that maybe we have gone too far as a society? Do kids really need a security detail to be outside? Can safety and independence exist together for kids?

For years when I think about walking somewhere as a kid or teenager, I have had this instant image of a hound dog dressed in a trench coat reminding me as a kid to not take candy from strangers or walk up to cars I didn’t know. There was a feeling that I could be taken at any moment, abduction being a very real possibility. An article on NPR about Christine Barnes, the author of the The Paranoid Parents Guide, revealed the top five worries of parents are:
1. Kidnapping
2. School Snipers
3. Terrorists
4. Dangerous Strangers
5. Drugs

However, the she also points out that the research shows that children are really hurt or killed by:
1. Car Accidents
2. Homicide (not usually by a stranger but by someone the child knows)
3. Abuse
4. Suicide
5. Drowning

So how did we get to the place where we are so afraid to let our kids walk to the local library? Is is one too many CSI shows or scary news stories in our everyday lives building over time? I know I have the tendency to helicopter parent, but I agree with Lenore. I think in the process of trying so hard to be good parents, we may have lost some of our common sense. My 10-year-old is pretty responsible and capable. There are probably lots of things he can do and try that I have not yet allowed him to because of my own fears. So now I take my own baby steps as a parent, to let my kid experience all growing and life have for him.

Valerie Catrow

“Do you have him?”

These words are spoken between my husband and I on a constant loop when we’re out with our two-year-old. It’s just our shorthand way of saying to each other, “I have to do [XYZ] and cannot give him my full attention, so please be on your game.”

In addition to possibly finding it pretty obnoxious, some might think we do this because our son is only two. A toddler. A creature best described as a large-headed, unreasonable (yet adorable) tyrant who seems determined to injure himself. But it’s not that (or just that, I should say).

The “Do you have him?” chorus has two origins:

1. We would hate to be thought of as “those parents” who aren’t watching their kid. He’s our child and we think we need to be the ones keeping tabs on him. We don’t want anyone to ever feel burdened to keep an eye out for our kid if we haven’t specifically asked.

2. At least some amount of fear – more mine than my husband’s. He has his nervous moments, but his brain doesn’t automatically go the worst case scenarios like mine does.

I realize that this sounds quite “helicopter parentish” of us, so I’ll add that we try to never interfere in what our son is doing when he's out in the world. We encourage him to try new things, and we're definitely of the "A stranger is a friend you haven't met yet" school of thought over the "Stranger danger!" approach. We just prefer to keep him our line of vision. And if we can’t see him, we make damn sure we know where he is and who he’s with. I know the odds of something happening to him are slim, but for my own sanity, I need to be in the know when it comes to my kid.

There’s an Elizabeth Stone quote that's referred to ad nauseam, but it’s worth mentioning here because it sums up this whole parenting thing for me:

“Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”

Yes. That's it. That feeling of vulnerability is exactly it for me.

Ever since having our son, I’ve become more aware of the social contracts that make our world go 'round. While we are not defenseless by any means, when we go out into the world, we’re saying “Here I am. I’m going to do my thing and not harm you. I’m trusting you’ll be doing the same thing.” Or in the case of my son, "Here is my heart. Please don't hurt it."

I don’t want you to think that I spend my days tearing out my hair in fear of what the world will do to MAH BAY-BEE. That’s not the case -- we're out, we're having fun, and our son is thriving. And I understand that most people ARE just going about their business. In fact, many of them are also completely willing to lend a helping hand when asked (and sometimes just out of the goodness of their hearts). Nothing has ever happened to us to suggest otherwise.

And yet here I am, working (and sometimes struggling) to find a balance between giving my child the space to find his way in the world and taking my role as his protector extremely seriously. I'm not suggesting at all that those things are mutually exclusive, but it's tricky for me to honor both roles simultaneously and equally.

So where do I go from here? I'm really not sure. Do I feel like I’m doing something wrong? Not exactly...but part of me thinks I do focus too much on the "What ifs?" and not enough on the good stuff. I wonder what he might be missing out on, if I'm holding him back. But I’m working on it, which is the best any of us can do. More than anything, I want to make sure we're all enjoying this incredibly brief period of time we do have him with us.

Raising Richmond: C-MoR’s Stay & Learn

Patience Salgado — Fri, 26 Nov 2010 15:09:52 +0000

I asked my daughter Lucy (age 5) if she would like to check out a class at the Children’s Museum of Richmond in Short Pump.

“Is it the one with the train?”she said as her eyes lit up.

“Yep, that’s the one, but you go by yourself. What do you think?” I said, slightly grilling her.

“Yes! Yes! I’m in!" she squealed.

I was kind of surprised as this is my child that usually takes a little time to warm up to new situations. Apparently, the museum must have pretty good kid street cred judging from her reaction.

Stay & Learn is a newer offering for parents and kids looking to expand their museum experience. Members can drop off their potty-trained kids ages 2 1/2 to 6 from 9am to 12pm for a morning of museum fun and developmentally appropriate activities. Thanksgiving was the theme on the day Lucy attended class. I had a chance to interview the discerning, experienced, dare I say, preschool critic about her time at Stay & Learn.

"So Luce, how was it?"

“Oh Mom, we rode the train and had a feast and washed the dishes and I played with the stuff in the box, I think it was corn or something, and I wore a special shirt [each child is given a bright shirt for safety reasons] and I made a turkey and there was bowling and I want to go again.”

And all of that was said in one breath.

There was little interviewing after that; the kid pretty much laid it all out. I, however, had a few more questions for Lindsay McGreevy, the director of the Early Childhood Programs at the museum. She was gracious enough to give me a few more details.

The certified teachers at Stay & Learn all have a background in education, a Bachelor’s degree or CDA (Child Development Associate) credentials in Early Childhood education. The cost is reasonable at $25 per session (additional siblings cost $20) with a convenient registration online. They ask you to register 48 hours in advance but will take students later if space is available. As one of those security crazed parent, I was happy to see the sign-in sheet, security card, and T-shirt to identify the children in the museum. As a former educator, I appreciated the class size (no more than 10), structure and play-based learning.

Bottom Line: The museum’s reputation is so solid -- this is just one more opportunity to take advantage of the C-MoR goodness. Your child can play and learn, and maybe (just maybe) you can run an errand, get some holiday shopping in, or even have a cup of coffee. Alone. Can you even imagine? Merry Christmas to me.

Raising Richmond: At home or the hospital?

Patience Salgado — Tue, 09 Nov 2010 16:54:18 +0000

Editor's note: Today's feature is the newest installment of our parenting column written by two sets of Richmonders: Jorge and Patience Salgado (veteran parents of four gorgeous children), and Ross and Valerie Catrow (parenting rookies who have only been doing this "raising a child thing" for a little while). Check back fortnightly to watch them discuss/agree/disagree/throw down over all kinds of parenting issues, Richmond-related and beyond.

Today's topic: As with most issues related to pregnancy, childbirth, and parenting, the decision as to where you choose to have your child is a very personal one. Here two mothers share their very different stories. We hope you'll share yours, too.

Patience Salgado

I had my first baby in under five hours flat. It was like the kind you see in the movies: dad driving like crazy and you wonder if the mom is gonna drop that baby in the backseat. Except in our case, we were foolishly calm. I spent half my labor wondering if I was actually in labor. After that experience, I figured I was some sort of natural birthing superstar. It was definitely an I-am-woman-hear-me-roar type of thing in my head.

Two years later, that cute boy knocked me up again. After lots of research, we decided to have a home birth that go around. I spent an hour each visit talking, learning, planning with my midwife. My prenatal care was so personal and thorough, it was like birthing for the stars or something. But I realized I didn’t have to be special to receive good care; it was just part of the deal with this midwife.

The little guy was due December 31st. The closer it got, I could feel my husband Jorge watching me like there was a dollar sign tattooed on my belly.

“Do you feel anything? I mean, it’s totally cool and all, but come on tax deduction baby!”

We laughed, knowing in our hearts we were already livin’ on love anyway, not to mention, this baby had lots of surprises for us instead.

Three days crept by and finally, late in the evening, the contractions started. Every five minutes they came, and I was convinced I would have a baby by sunlight. They weren’t very strong, so I sent Jorge to sleep a little and called my sister to come over. We lit about a million tiny votives and sat at the table to do some art. The contractions stalled around daylight, and I was starting to think this might be a whole different experience than the last time. My midwife came, checked me, and broke my water to move the process along. The baby dropped and I was instantly in hard labor.

I paced back and forth -- everything was so much bigger, harder, longer than I remembered. The layers of my heart were starting to be peeled back. I was being humbled in a way I never expected. This baby was posterior (sunny side up) coming down in a way that is the hardest to deliver. I thought to myself, “This is why people want drugs, I get it, I get it.”

My midwife skillfully helped me labor in positions to help the baby turn and labor the baby down.

We moved constantly, and I secretly wondered how I ever would have ever been able to do it lying in a bed in the hospital. I knew I was riding on the wisdom of 25 years of knowledge and experience in her head and bones.

It took every once of energy to make it through each round of contractions. I started to weep. I was so broken. Jorge leaned over and whispered very gently in my ear. I still cry today thinking about what he said. It was all I could hear over and over in my head. I decided in that moment, I was the only one who could get that baby out and I was going to do it -- I was hella determined.. With Jorge behind me on the birthing stool, over an hour later, Jack came out screaming. It was like he was the only other person on the planet who knew how hard it was. We were instantly bonded, we had just walked that rugged path together: major personal development for me, birth for him.

He never turned; I pushed out a posterior baby with no tearing in record time. It took me a long time to realize how powerful and amazing the experience was. I learned the beauty of vulnerability and that power can come from being completely undone. I now know that in the end, love is the only thing that gets us through and how each of us is truly born.

Valerie Catrow

Throughout my pregnancy, I made plans to get through the delivery with as little medical intervention as possible; epidurals and C-sections completely terrified me, and I just wanted to see if I could do it. I hoped to labor at home as long as possible, only to arrive at the hospital for my OB (who also happens to be the same doctor who delivered me) to do the actual baby-catching.

My due date came and went with no sign of the kid budging -- no contractions, barely even a Braxton Hicks, nothing. I was convinced I was going to be pregnant until the end of time. Eventually, my doctor and I agreed on scheduling an induction.

My husband and I arrived at the hospital on a Sunday afternoon. While Ross was off dealing with paperwork, Linda, my (first) nurse, asked me if I had any specific preferences for the labor and delivery. I let her know right away that despite the induction, I really wanted to try and labor without pain medication as long as I could.

My doctor arrived shortly after we did. As soon as I saw him, the emotions bubbled over. He took such good care of me throughout my pregnancy, and I was so excited that he was actually going to be the one to deliver the baby, not a random doctor who happened to be on call that night.

We discussed the plan: first he'd administer a cervical gel to help with dilation (sorry, dudes), and we'd start Pitocin later that night.

The gel was all it took. I went from not being in labor at all to having hard contractions every five minutes just half an hour later. When the first drop of Pitocin went through my IV, I had four-minute contractions right on top of each other, and the baby's heart rate plummeted to the point where alarms sounded. Linda and I opted to back off the Pitocin and just let things roll along at their own pace.

I labored throughout the night without medication. Although it was painful and not exactly what I planned, I remember that time as being very calm, quiet, and peaceful. Friends stopped by to visit with us, encourage us, and pray with us. Ross and I talked, posted updates on Twitter, and watched The Wizard of Oz which was playing on a loop on TBS. I was managing the pain well with hot showers, walks, and bouncing on an exercise ball. Because I was induced, I was supposed to spend 20 minutes of each hour in bed so the baby and I could be monitored. Being unable to get up and walk around was torture for me. Ross, sensing my frustration, asked our night nurse Christine (Linda had long since gone home) if we could ease up on the monitoring. She was great about it and let me do my thing.

My doctor arrived the next morning to find that, despite about 80,000 16 hours of intense labor, I was only dilated four out of the necessary 10 centimeters. We decided together to order the epidural because one of two things would likely happen: 1) I would be in labor MUCH longer and needed to get some rest for when it came time to push or 2) we would need to do a C-section -- the fact that the baby wasn't dropping and the heart rate kept falling indicated that things could get complicated quickly. The epidural would allow us to avoid a "crash" C-section that could have required me to be completely under for the birth.

A few hours (but absolutely no centimeters) later, my doctor and I agreed on doing a C-section. Nurse Linda (who was back on duty) wheeled us into the operating room within the hour. Fifteen minutes later, a 10-pound, 2 1/2-ounce baby boy was removed from my 5-foot, 3-inch, typically 115-pound body. He was sunny side up, his cord was wrapped securely around his neck, and the top of his head was bruised from his feeble attempts to make his way out "the conventional way." He was in his daddy's arms almost immediately after he was born and in mine, nursing away, just minutes after that.

I had hoped for a birth with as little medical intervention as possible, and ended up with pretty much every intervention available. But I don't like to think about what could have happened if we hadn't taken those steps, or if we didn't have such attentive doctors and nurses caring for us. I firmly believe we were where we needed to be, with the people we needed to be with. My child came into the world safely, despite complications, and for that, I owe those people everything.

Now it's your turn...

Where did you have your babies? What led to that decision and what was the experience like for you?

Raising Richmond: Bullying

Patience Salgado — Tue, 12 Oct 2010 16:00:45 +0000

If you pay any attention to the news, the following scenarios will probably sound familiar:

Tyler Clementi, 18, committed suicide after his roommate at Rutgers publicly outed him by allegedly posting video of him engaging in sexual activity with another male. That same month, Asher Brown, 13, Seth Walsh, also 13, and Billy Lucs, 15, also committed suicide, allegedly due to being taunted about their homosexuality.

Phoeboe Prince, 15, hung herself after being bullied for several months by classmates at her high school in South Hadley, Massachusetts.

James Willie Jones of Florida has been charged with disorderly conduct for storming onto a school bus and threatened students who had apparently been bullying his daughter, a 13-year-old with cerebral palsy.

Bullying is making headlines lately. Whether it's actually on the rise or just seems that way because of all of the recent media attention, it's time to talk about it. For some families, it's a matter of life and death. So here we go...

Today's question: What are your thoughts on bullying?

The Salgados

I gathered my boys onto the couch and tucked one under each arm tightly. “Boys, we need to make a pact right now!” I said. Their eyes were as wide as saucers as I told them the recent story of Seth Walsh, the California 13-year-old who committed suicide after being bullied for being gay.

So much of the problem is kids not being able to access or get the support they need, kids holding and enduring things they were never meant to hold during an already vulnerable growing time.

“Kids need each other and they need to know they can get help if they need it. You guys have to promise you will come to Papa and me if you ever feel scared, if someone treats you unkindly or their power feels so big in a hurtful way.” I said.

“We will mom,” they replied and then we were quiet because it felt like the only appropriate response in the moment.

It was only a year ago that we had our own mini-experience with bullying. Josiah had expressed some concern over his desk being moved close to a particular classmate. This kid is usually pretty socially savvy and gets along with almost anyone, so his anxious feeling should have been my first big red flag.

A couple weeks later, it seems Josiah had reached his breaking point for being picked on.

"I tried to tell her I don't care....but..." he burst into tears.

"But you do care right?" I said. He nodded his head through his tears. "Everyone cares Josiah, trust me." I replied. "Do you think there is something wrong with you?" I asked, he shook his head but cried a little harder.

There are times when you just can't protect your child, and someone else's pain will hurt them. I told him I thought maybe he was dealing with a bully and suggested we find out some more information so we could make a plan to help him. We spent some time researching and found out why this might be happening to him and what we could do.

Bullying is either about power or passing on some form of mistreatment. We wondered together if that might be the cause for this girl being unkind. We talked about how sometimes when you hear negative messages repeatedly you can start to believe them.  It was time for truth to do her magic I told him, because truth is the only thing that can set you free. If he was starting to question himself, maybe his bully can't remember the truth at all.

We came up with a strategy: how he should respond or not respond, contacted the teacher, made little cards reminding him of the truth of himself and the situation and made a plan to check back in together in a few days. Within a week, things were much better. It seemed more than anything, he needed to know his voice could create the change he needed, that he wasn’t in it alone but was capable of finding a way through.

While our situation was mild and I have no idea what lies ahead, I am aware this problem is growing in our society. Bullying isn’t anything new but are kids meaner in today’s world? What do you think?

The Catrows

I think I was only bullied one time. This chubby kid with a dumb haircut kept hassling me… so I eventually gave him the ol' karate chop to the neck. That's is how you deal with a bully, folks! Just kidding. I was in so much effing trouble after that -- it never happened again. Henceforth, I relied on my charm and quick wit to escape the bully's wrath.

Honestly though, my wife Valerie and I were never really bullied much as children (due either to our acute likeability or our shared tendency to just stay out of any and all drama) so I don't really know if we have any sage advice to offer. I know that handling things with karate chops, nunchaku, or any other violence is not the way to go about things. But what is? What do we do if our son JR is bullied?

Well, adults have to be adults. Part of my responsibility as JR's father is to be "there" for him if any of these bullying shenanigans go down. Not only do I need to listen to him and help him work through any issues he may be having, but I need be ever vigilant, spotting signs of bullying if he doesn't feel able to talk about it. I'd hope other adults in his life -- his friends' parents, adults at church, his teachers, etc. -- would have a similar mindset and let us know if anything is going on. We'll naturally do the same for the other kids we're around on a regular basis; it takes a village, you know.

But what if JR ends up on the dishing-out end of a bullying relationship? As parents, that is one of our biggest fears; we are so NOT bullies, so uninterested in confrontation, we're not sure we'd know what to do with a child who seeks it out. Hopefully we won't get to that point. On the practical, concrete level, one of the most important qualities we're trying to instill in our Padawan is politeness: we expect to hear please, thank you, excuse me and (most importantly) I'm sorry if he's done something wrong. And, if you're a bully, you're hardly an epitome of Miss Manners.

But when it comes down to the nitty gritty stuff...I dunno guys, I dunno.

One thing we can do is make sure our familial relationships are positive and healthy. At nearly two, our little guy is a MENTAL SPONGE, and is soaking up our bad behaviors left and right. If we show him how to be kind to other people, hopefully it will soak in. Right?

Other than that, I'm not sure, AND IT IS TERRIFYING.

Raising Richmond: Back to school!

Patience Salgado — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 15:59:34 +0000

Editor's note: While Raising Richmond typically consists of two sets of parents sharing their thoughts about various aspects of raising kids, Patience is flying solo on this one, offering up some tips and tricks for making back-to-school time a little less chaotic, a little less scary, and a lot more soulful.

After running a kid frat house all summer, I decided it might be time to rein things in and settled into the fall goodness. While the kids are still trying to squeeze out the last juice of freedom, there are some back to school rituals that can make the transition a little easier. Here are the tried and true’s at the Salgado house.

1. Get back on a schedule.
Since we are ultra laid back, this is a big one for us. Everyone has to go back to a bedtime and routine. Practice laying out clothes if you have a morning slow poke. Make a chart complete with pictures if you have routine challenges. Start all of this at least a week before school starts -- two weeks is better if possible.

2. Go together to pick out school supplies.
Let your kids be part of the process. Take your list and have kids locate the items. Let them pick the pink scissors or the rad lunchbox if they want; little choices go a long way and invite interest.

3. Get to know your teacher.
Invite your child to make a card for the new teacher. It’s even better if you make one too. Grab a gift card, take something from your garden, or make cookies to deliver at your open house day. Personal and genuine connection will start the relationship out right and make for a better collaboration.

4. Do something kind.
A few years ago, my kids and I started a really fun tradition of writing positive messages in sidewalk chalk outside the school for the first day. It was so great that last year, along with about 35 friends, we ended up chalking 17 RVA schools. Anonymous kindness is loads of fun and very adventurous. You are welcome to join us this year -- there is more information here.

5. Send a little of your love along.
One year when my son was having a bit of trouble transitioning into kindergarten, I cut a small red heart out of felt for him to hold in his pocket. I told him it was to remind him that my love was with him when he needed it and we were apart. After a few weeks he gave it back to me a little tattered and worn. He said he was better and to save it for the next kid.

6. Have a party or celebrate.
Invite a few friends and their parents over one Friday in September after everyone gets settled. Show your kids that summer ending doesn’t mean the fun is over. Make school wish jars for everyone to take home. Grab some jars from recycling that kids can paint or decorate. Write your wishes for the school year and put them in the jar. Pull out the wishes throughout the year and see which have come true.

What are your back to school rituals? What makes things smoother for your family?

Patience Salgado lives in a state of dreamy chaos with her husband Jorge and their four kids in the Westover Hills neighborhood. She slings a baby while she writes for Supersisters at PBSparents.org and tries to think up her next guerrilla goodness project.

Raising Richmond: Teens and birth control

Patience Salgado — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 16:00:51 +0000

Editor's note: Today's feature is the newest installment of our parenting column written by two sets of Richmonders: Jorge and Patience Salgado (veteran parents of four gorgeous children), and Ross and Valerie Catrow (parenting rookies who have only been doing this "raising a child thing" for a little while). Check back fortnightly to watch them discuss/agree/disagree/throw down over all kinds of parenting issues, Richmond-related and beyond.

Today's question: Should teenagers be given access to birth control or should parents offer abstinence as the only option?

Here we go...

The Salgados

I’ll never forget long ago when I was just a teenager, Sharon Stone (back in the heydays of Basic Instinct fame) announced that she would leave condoms available to her kids should they ever need them. Oh the scandal! It was a big deal for this card carrying True Love Waits high school (almost college) girl.

My conservative upbringing only had one option available to me: abstinence. The only problem was even as an almost perfect- Pollyanna-kind-of-girl, I was deeply in love with my boyfriend, madly, truly, deeply. The kind of love that isn’t supposed to come to a person that early in their life, And while it was wrong in my world, I wanted to sleep with my man. Well, maybe he was almost a man. It was all a little High School Musical, if you will.

Throw all the raging hormones in and mix with a little shame, you get a terrible cocktail for unsafe sex. That is exactly what ended up happening. A lack of education and knowing only one side of the story left us both acting irresponsibly about our sexual health. It all worked out because I married that guy in the end -- 18 years together and going strong -- but I’m not sure it was the best way for us. I don’t really blame my parents as I really believe it was what they thought was right, but I’m guessing we will do things a little differently when the time comes for our kids to explore that part of themselves.

I think normalizing the subject and age appropriate education along the way will be a good start to keeping the communications lines open. While I don’t exactly want my 13-year-old having sex like so many horror stories I hear these days, I do think I’ll pull a Sharon Stone and have protection available at a certain point. More importantly, I’m wondering if self respect is the biggest lesson of all to teach kids.

Although the answers all seem perfectly clear now, I have a feeling this is one of those subjects that you really have no idea what it is truly like until you are in it, until you have a ridiculously beautiful sixteen year old daughter or a strapping boy who looks like a man. So I reserve the right to change mind, worry like a crazy person, or do all the other wild things that parents do in trying to find the best way to love and guide their kids. Who knows? We might be handing out abstinence promise cards, condoms, or both.

Jorge and Patience Salgado now live in a state of dreamy chaos with their four kids in the Westover Hills neighborhood. When Jorge isn't acting as a human jungle gym for small monkey children, he can be found managing events and logistics for the corporate/non-profit world around this fine town. Patience slings a baby while she writes for Supersisters at PBSparents.org and tries to think up her next guerrilla goodness project.

The Catrows

My husband and I are part of what now is perhaps a rare breed that didn't even consider having sex during our teen years out of complete and utter fear -- him of getting a girl pregnant, me of getting pregnant and of what my mother would do to me if I got pregnant. And then there were those terrifying images of STD symptoms and side effects projected on the big screen at my college's freshmen orientation. Bluh. We knew about how to protect ourselves, but that wasn't really an issue because we thought it best to just avoid The Deed altogether.

The line between "Sex is normal and healthy and great!" and "Sex is Serious Business" is a tricky one to walk when you're raising kids. While fear is obviously an effective motivator (see above), we don't want our son to be terrified of sex. We also don't want him to approach it lightly -- not just for his own physical and emotional well-being, but also because hey, we aren't trying to be raising his babies when we should be enjoying retirement bliss.

As our son gets older and sex becomes a topic of interest on his part and a topic of conversation on ours (because let's be honest, we don't expect him to really be initiating any of these chats), we're going to make it clear to him that we'd prefer him to wait to have sex until he's married or at least in a committed, monogamous relationship -- and preferably only after everyone involved has been given a clean bill of health. Abstinence will be hailed as the only 100 percent, guaranteed way to protect himself.

However. Oh, however.

We realize that our wants for our son might not line up with his wants once he's confronted with such big decisions. While that might scare the bejeezus out of us, it doesn't give us the right to come down on him with anger or judgment (which is how adults tend to express fear, it seems). It's our job to be there for him, to give him a safe place to land, and to protect him. If that means handing him a condom, then so be it. In fact, if that means one day saying to him, "Condoms are in the bathroom drawer, so use one if you're going to have sex" then so be it. We'd rather him be here, healthy, and happy than to be able to say "See? Didn't we TELL you what could happen if you have sex?"

Some people might think making birth control available to your teenager is the same as giving him a high five and saying "Yeah, sex! Go for it!" with a **winkwink** and a **nudgenudge**. If you make it available without any conversation behind it, maybe that's true. But pair its availability with a solid understanding of responsibilities and possible outcomes and consequences, and you've given your kid the entire picture, equipping him to make informed decisions about his life and health. It's our hope that taking this approach to sex, birth control, and STD prevention will help us address both sides of that line I talked about before.

The fact that we can say this to our son also helps:

"Use a condom every time. We had sex without protection once. Nine months later we got you."

Yeah, I'm sure he'll be hearing that one a lot.

Ross and Valerie Catrow welcomed their first baby (a giant, redheaded, blue-eyed boy name JR) in November of 2008. They spend the majority of their time running this website, missing Battlestar Galactica, and playing RockPaperScissors over who has to take the dogs out.

Ok, your turn

Should we make birth control available to our teenagers or set up abstinence as the only way to go? What about in schools? Tell us your thoughts...

Raising Richmond: Parenting and happiness

Patience Salgado — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 10:00:54 +0000

Editor's note: Today's feature is the newest installment of our parenting column written by two sets of Richmonders: Jorge and Patience Salgado (veteran parents of four gorgeous children), and Ross and Valerie Catrow (parenting rookies who have only been doing this "raising a child thing" for a little while). Check back fortnightly to watch them discuss/agree/disagree/throw down over all kinds of parenting issues, Richmond-related and beyond.

Earlier this month, New York Magazine published All Joy and No Fun: Why parents hate parenting, an article by Jennifer Senior exploring the notion that people with children are less happy than their child-free counterparts. More than two weeks later, Senior's article has drawn over 560 comments (and counting) and continues to spark conversations among and between parents and nonparents alike.

So in response to this article and the dialogue it's inspired, we're tackling this question: Are you happy (or happier) being a parent?

The Salgados

My husband always adored Bill Cosby and thought he was hilarious. Even as teenagers before marriage and children, he would belly laugh over his parenting bits, which were a comical take on his slight annoyance of life with kids who he called “those people”.

As a bright and shiny aspiring preschool teacher and child development major, I was always horrified. My entire life was spent around kids, enjoying their company and investing in their futures. Even though I knew Bill Cosby really probably loved his kids and life, I said a secret prayer that I would never become like that.

Fast forward sixteen years to living in a house with less than 1200 square feet with a dog and four kids, (two of whom are total firecrackers) and on a tight income with both parents working. I am physically and emotionally spent in ways I never really imagined. I would be lying if I didn’t tell you there are days when I fantasize about what I would do with total freedom, things like go to the bathroom by myself, sleep till 9am, and go for a spontaneous weekend trip to NYC. I totally get Bill Cosby now, I nod my head like I’m in church and laugh till I cry at that old bit now. I sit by my husband on the couch and hold his hand, my ally and friend in a world where we are greatly outnumbered. I laugh in knowing there is a confidence in believing the truth and joy still existing.

And then a new study comes out, telling me I am not as happy and fulfilled as my peers without children. Apparently, because I work and have four children, I am downright miserable. I laugh after finishing the article and wonder why it even matters. I must be a glutton for punishment as I chose this life four times over. I think about how Lucy (age four) told me last week that she wished her poop was pink with glitter, how I missed a concert because the babysitter had an emergency, how Jack waited until he lost two teeth to double up on the tooth fairy, how exhausted I was after cooking a dinner no one liked, how Josiah believes in our family kindness work, how our kids are on the computer way too much just like us, how the baby insists on playing the running hug game, how hard and joyful it all is.

Truth be told, my highs have always been as big as my lows. I can’t imagine it would be different with children or not. I choose “those people” and this beautiful mess over and over again just as I choose happiness. We are not so simple to be or feel just one thing, and I happily embrace it all, for that is what living truly is.

The Catrows

Want to know a 100 percent guaranteed way to get under my skin? Say to a mother- or father-to-be in your best doom-and-gloom voice, "Ohhhh, just wait until the baby comes..."

I'm never sure what people are trying to accomplish with a statement like that. I think part of it comes from a genuine place of not wanting to sugar coat things for their friends, but I'd wager a hefty sum that part of it is also prompted by that age old saying "misery loves company". I find it frustrating that so many people's minds automatically go there when thinking about having kids; it paints an unfair picture.

Parenting is hard. Parenting brings with it expectations and tasks and obstacles that can be a giant pain in the ass... but so do most things that are worth doing. Any job you have, any relationship you build, any challenge you take on in your life will have those elements as well. I don't know why parenting is supposed to be immune to these, especially since it involves the creation and rearing of another human being, of all things. It's a big job with big responsibilities. And really, really big rewards.

When questions about child-rearing and happiness come up, particularly those comparing the happiness of nonparents to parents, all I can say is "It's not that simple." To be frank, if someone were to suggest that I'm personally less happy now than I was before I became a parent (which I suppose the New York Magazine article is indirectly suggesting by saying that my nonparent counterparts are happier than I am), well, I'd call bullshit. Again, it's not that simple.

There is no way our life will be all flowers and sunshine with a toddler running around; it ain't gonna happen. But the pre-offspring life I shared with my husband wasn't all flowers and sunshine either. As we all know, there's a give and take with everything. Am I thrilled with the fact that my mornings no longer start at 10 or 11am? Negative. But I can tell you (and this is the God's honest truth, as cheesy as it may sound) that there hasn't been a single morning in the almost two years our son has been with us that I haven't been happy to get out of bed and see his face. For someone who struggles with anxiety and The Sads, that is huge.

For me, becoming a mother was a very primal, biological need that I felt down to my core. It was never "Let's have a baby so we can be happier!" Parenting was something we actively chose but never expected to be easy. And sure, the "stuff" of parenting weighs heavily on me, but that doesn't mean it overshadows the joy, the silliness, the sweetness, and the new kinds of happiness (both in the day-to-day and retrospective moments) that are now part of my life as a mother.

I can never know, with all things being equal, if the child-free versions of Ross and Valerie Catrow would be happier than who we are now. But I do know that overall, we are happy -- happy with each other, happy with our lots in life, and happy with our choice to open that life up to our sweet little man. Early mornings and all.

Ok, your turn

What are your thoughts on parenting and happiness? Are people without kids happier than those with kids? Is it the other way around? Can we ever really know for sure?

Raising Richmond: Crying it out

Patience Salgado — Tue, 06 Jul 2010 10:00:08 +0000

Editor's note: Today's feature is the newest installment of our parenting column written by two sets of Richmonders: Jorge and Patience Salgado (veteran parents of four gorgeous children), and Ross and Valerie Catrow (parenting rookies who have only been doing this "raising a child thing" for a little while). Check back fortnightly to watch them discuss/agree/disagree/throw down over all kinds of parenting issues, Richmond-related and beyond.

Babies and sleep: quite the recipe for controversy in the world of parenting. But if we've learned anything in doing this column it's that controversy brings conversation, and with conversation, you get perspective. So here we go...

Today's question: How do you feel about babies crying it out?

The Salgados

There was just one goal when our kids were infants: to try to solve all crying. It wasn’t always as easy as it sounds. We kept our babies close, we shared the same bed, I breastfed on demand -- all the traditional attachment parenting practices. I’m not sure it was so much that we adopted the philosophy, but rather it just happened to jibe with our intuition. Intuition is a powerful part of parenting, and when that part was rocky I found the baby helped me out, many times teaching me how to listen.

The truth is babies still cry for reasons we don’t always know or can fix; it’s part of their development and growing process. There are moments when we all need to cry, but I always struggled with the whole idea of putting my child in a position where I would abandon his need for a response in order to teach him something. It felt so incredibly counter-intuitive on so many levels, mostly way down deep in my bones.

It wasn’t long into our journey as parents before someone asked us about sleep and promptly suggested we read Baby Wise by Gary Ezzo, what some see as the Bible for scheduling feedings and sleep training babies. It takes about two seconds of research to discover loads of controversy surrounding Mr. Ezzo and his advice. Babies failing to thrive, a lack of credentials, history of dropped publishers, new editions released softening language and tone, all of it instantly had me feeling skeptical. A peek closer into the book revealed this was not the method for us, and I was surprised that so many were drawn to it. As I got a little further into my parenting, I realized a highly prescriptive method gave parents security and something to do -- it normalized their lives that had been completely turned upside down, it was a solution for returning peace and order for everyone. I think there are serious holes and problems with his work but understand some of the logic behind it.

If I am completely honest, early in my parenting I held judgment in my heart for parents who chose this path. I researched brain development in babies and effects of the levels of cortisol release. I wondered if we are resistant as a culture to the surrender that parenthood requires. I found myself deeper into an attachment parenting world. It was hard for me to understand or imagine how anyone could do that to a child.

Life eventually required me to travel outside my bubble every now and then. I started to mix with different kinds of parents and kids. Conversations on playgrounds and playing with kids who were products of everything under the sun started to shift my perspective just a bit. Thoughtful parents who sought connection with their babies AND lead pretty scheduled lives seemed ok. They weren’t stunted or insecure; they were thriving and happy. My assumptions had been checked and my heart was opened just a little.

Almost all of those lovely parents I respected and kids I met had gleaned from the advice and books, altering when needed, and found a balance just like I had to do. I still worry about new parents and infants being left to cry. I’m not sure I can personally ever sign on to that idea but I am aware that parenthood is full of twists and turns for all of us. We all have to find our own way.

The Catrows

I think when people hear the phrase "cry it out", they tend to imagine one of the following scenarios:

1. A couple is snuggled up in their living room while their poor infant child is alone in her dark, desolate room. As the child's screams intensifies, the couple turns the baby monitor down while simultaneously turning the volume up on the television up.

2. A couple is huddled outside of the nursery door, gnashing their teeth at the sound of their child's wails as they clutch a dog-eared copy of Fool-Proof Guide to Helping Your Child Sleep and mutter to each other, "But the book says… but your mother said… but that person we talked to at Target said…"

My mind clearly works in extremes, but I don't think I'm alone in that fact, hence the bad rap that each and every parenting philosophy gets in at least one circle or another.

I'm very much an Early-90s-Real-World-Cast-Member when it comes to parenting philosophies: I don't feel the need to label my choices. I think doing so sets yourself up for all kinds of expectations and criticism. Parenting is hard enough, for Pete's sake.

So! Would I call my husband and I "Cry It Out Parents"? No. Did our child cry from time to time when going to sleep? Yes. We also read and used Baby Wise as a guide to getting our son on a schedule which was necessary due to my return to work and the very specific circumstances of our chaotic life. But I don't consider us "Baby Wise Parents" either, and I don't feel like it dictated our response to his cries -- that, like most facets of our parenting experience, came from knowing what made our child tick.

With our son, we learned pretty early on that there was (and is) a distinct difference between the "fussy" cry and the "something is very wrong" cry. Nine times out of 10, when bedtime came around and the crying started, it was the fussy cry. Nothing was wrong (and believe me, we checked), he just cried. At those times, there was absolutely nothing we could do to stop him from crying: nursing, holding, rocking, swaddling, singing, walking, more nursing, you name it. In fact, any time we intervened, we made things worse, probably because we overstimulated the poor kid to the point of no return. There were just some nights where it seemed like he needed to release a little energy before settling down and going to sleep, and crying was how he did that. Is this the case with your kid? I don't know, but it was for ours. And here he is, 19 months later: totally happy, as healthy as can be, and loved to itty bitty bits. He also sleeps like none other.

Despite my tendency to fret with the best of them, in the end, I trust my gut. I trust my husband's gut, too. We have good guts, you could say. And we trusted those guts when it came to the issues of sleeping and crying and the relationship between the two. For us, we never set a date saying, "This is the day that we will let him fuss a little." We followed our son's cues, watched his behavior, and paid particular attention to how our behavior was affecting him. Then we went with our instincts. Some nights we just knew that we needed to back off a little and give him a minute. That course of action actually embodies what we have discovered to be the most effective approach to parenting our child overall, not only when it comes to sleeping. So now we're circling back on a point I brought up earlier: Is this the case with your kid?

I can't sit here and say that the way we did things is The Way. It worked for us, but parents should never, ever (ever, ever, ever) do something just because a person or book or website tells them to. If the advice you get lines up with your instincts, go for it. If it doesn't feel right, don't -- even if everyone else swears up and down that it will "work." Talk to your partner, discuss it with your pediatrician if you feel led to, listen to your baby's cues, be willing to change your approach if needed… and trust your gut. I bet yours are pretty good, too.

Ross and Valerie Catrow welcomed their first baby (a giant, redheaded, blue-eyed boy name JR) in November of 2008. They spend the majority of their time running this web site, missing Battlestar Galactica, and playing RockPaperScissors over who has to take the dogs out.

Ok, your turn

What are your thoughts about crying it out?

Raising Richmond: Favorite children’s books

Patience Salgado — Tue, 22 Jun 2010 15:57:13 +0000

Editor's note: Today's feature is the newest installment of our parenting column written by two sets of Richmonders: Jorge and Patience Salgado (veteran parents of four gorgeous children), and Ross and Valerie Catrow (parenting rookies who have only been doing this "raising a child thing" for a little while). Check back fortnightly to watch them discuss/agree/disagree/throw down over all kinds of parenting issues, Richmond-related and beyond.

Today's question: What are your (or your kids') favorite children's books?

The Salgados

If summer isn't a big ol' invitation to read, I do not know what is. The kids get very excited at my house because it is the one time of year we splurge to buy books, instead of hitting up the library. I have a wide range of book lovers in my family so hopefully our picks will be good for someone in yours.

Here are our current favorites:

Lyra (age 1)

Waddle by Rufus Butler Seder
This scanimation picture book actually has the animals moving as little ones turn the page. We all know turning the pages is everything to this age.

My Friends by Tara Gomi
This sweet little book is about a little girl learning about herself through everything around her and sometimes in unusual places.

Yummy Yucky by Leslie Patricelli
I love books that lay out boundaries and simple lessons in an age appropriate way, like dirt, for example, is yucky. Who knew? The illustrations and rhythm of the words will have you reading this one over and over.

Lucy (age 4)

Angelina Ballerina by Katharine Holabird and Helen Craig
We are deep in princess, dance, and all things frilly over here. What could be better than a mouse who dances and wears a pink tutu? Pure preschool girl bliss.

Eloise by Kay Thompson
It is prime time for a little mischief that only Eloise can bring. The most exciting book being when Eloise goes to Paris which both Lucy and I dream of almost everyday.

Jack (age 7)

Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis
The Chronicles of Narnia are like a staple in this house and the movies only make it even more exciting. You can never go wrong with a classic, anyway.

The Diary of a Wimpy Kid by Jeff Kinney
Truth be told, I don't know very much about this book series except that my older son thought it was hilarious. Anything the older brother loves will be an instant hit with the younger brother.

Josiah (age 10)

Robin Hood and King Arthur (Classic Starts Series)
The classics are making a comeback at our house. Adventure and medieval are a huge draw for 10-year-old boys hoping for something exciting to happen. We still can't decide if Dungeons and Dragons are close behind since fantasy rules all and it looks like we are heading the general nerdalicious direction with these wonderful boys. Bring on the L.A.R.P. !

Percy Jackson and the Olympians by Rick Riordan
It seems all roads lead to Greek mythology at our house -- throw in a kid on an adventure and you get a golden reader. Josiah could not get enough of these... and didn't even mind that the movie was an insult to the book.

The Catrows

We are big readers in this house, so naturally we were thrilled when our now 18-month-old son JR seemed equally enthralled with books. We spend a good portion of our days reading to him and, when he's playing independently, he typically ends up plopped on the floor flipping through a pile of his favorites. Parenting win!

Take a look at some of our favorites -- books we love reading to him now and others we can't wait to snuggle up with in the future:

Current faves

What Does Baby See? by Begin Smart Books
I received this book at my baby shower for JR, and it's been a favorite ever since. It consists entirely of simple images of animals in black, white, and red. JR was mesmerized by the contrast of the pictures -- so much so that we often left it open in his crib so he could look at it while dozed off. He still loves to look at it, proudly pointing out each animal's nose, eyes, tail, etc. Plus, it's a super-durable board book, so your little one is free to love on it (which he surely will).

So Many Bunnies by Rick Walton
This book was given to us for JR's first Easter. It tells the story of Mother Rabbit as she tucks her 26 children (sounds shocking but she is, after all, a rabbit) into bed. JR loves the detailed drawings; we love that it covers counting, ABC's, and rhyming, all in one book. That's quite the bang for your buck.

How the Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Suess
Most people seem surprised that our toddler will sit still through this entire book (sometimes even multiple readings of it). However, if your dad did the Grinch's voice as a gangster from the 1930's, you'd probably be interested, too. We can't wait to show him the cartoon version next Christmas.

Chicka Chicka Boom Boom by Bill Martin, Jr. and John Archambault
Pretty standard, yes, but JR loses his mind over this one, especially when all of the letters fall off of the coconut tree and we get to shout "Oh NO!" This one also gets repeated reads, but his enthusiasm for anything alphabet-related make those well worth it.

Each Peach Pear Plum by Allan and Janet Ahlberg
An oldie but a goodie, this book follows familiar nursery rhyme characters while helping your wee one practice his or her rhyming skills during a game of "eye spy." The illustrations have great detail (honestly, you don't even need to read the book to enjoy it) and it will surely be one that your kid will have memorized in no time (as will you).

What we can't wait to share

The Jolly Christmas Postman by Allan and Janet Ahlberg
The authors of Each Peach Pear Plum are back with another delightful and creative story here, but it's definitely for kids with a bit more self control. Your child will get a kick out of reading "letters" written by one nursery rhyme character to another, particularly because the notes are tucked in the book into actual envelopes. This one is sure to keep little imaginations (and fingers) busy and content.

The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster
My husband has fond (yes, he used the word "fond') memories of his mother reading this to him, and he can't wait to share it with our son. Plus, the clever wordplay and metaphors keep things interesting for parents, as well.

The Witches by Roald Dahl
We're fans of anything by Roald Dahl in this house, but The Witches is hands down our favorite. Sure, it's a little gruesome, but that makes it a great book for parents to read aloud to their kids because it gives them a chance to address real vs. imaginary and that, well, bad things happen sometimes.

Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing by Judy Blume
Should a little sibling ever come along, we know this classic tale of Peter Hatcher's struggles with his younger brother Fudge will help JR find humor in the chaos.

The Chronicles of Prydain by Lloyd Alexander
This series is a winner in our book (ha!) for two reasons: 1) it falls into the fantasy genre which will hopefully be conducive to some father-son bonding, and 2) it tells the story of a boy who goes from "assistant pig keeper" to hero. We're all about exposing our son to anything that tells the story of overcoming obstacles, as is the case with most parents.

Ross and Valerie Catrow welcomed their first baby (a giant, redheaded, blue-eyed boy name JR) in November of 2008. They spend the majority of their time running this web site, missing Battlestar Galactica, and playing RockPaperScissors over who has to take the dogs out.

Ok, your turn

What are we missing? What books to your kids go ga-ga over? What stories do you look forward to sharing with them?

Raising Richmond: Milestone madness

Patience Salgado — Tue, 25 May 2010 10:00:20 +0000

Editor's note: Today's feature is the newest installment of our parenting column written by two sets of Richmonders: Jorge and Patience Salgado (veteran parents of four gorgeous children), and Ross and Valerie Catrow (parenting rookies who have only been doing this "raising a child thing" for a little while). Check back fortnightly to watch them discuss/agree/disagree/throw down over all kinds of parenting issues, Richmond-related and beyond.

"When will he talk?"
"Should she be walking by this point?"
"But the book says he should be doing that by now..."

As parents, it's our job to play an active role in our child's development. But are checklists, guides, and charts taking over?

Today's question: Do you worry about milestones?

The Salgados

She had a brown jumper on with pink polka dots and a bright bow that covered half of her tiny short stacked haircut. Her mom carefully placed a pretty black and cream padded toile covering over the wooden restaurant high chair while her dad placed her in and grandparents slid into the booth. All eyes glued to this tiny being looking to be a little over one year old. She was eating peas, green beans, or some other mashed up green mixture brought from home and her grandma clapped as she took each bite. Baby girl was the sun, the moon, and the stars.

I looked over at my own brood of four, with messy hair and wild eyes, and quietly laughed. I remember the early days myself and observed how the intensity of loving plays out differently for each parent and family. Some parents pore over clothing and read product safety reviews, some spend hours reading about baby brain development, some spend months creating beautiful nurseries, some visit 324 preschools, some grow organic gardens, some forge new paths in parenting -- all of it with such careful and deep heartfelt intention to do right by our kids and live out our own lives as individuals.

We watch them sleep, breathe, smile, sit, stand, walk, run, speak, talk, laugh; we watch them grow into all the amazing parts of themselves. We are watching so closely, waiting for the next big thing because it will be wonderful. It will, and we can barely stand it, even to those who act cool about the whole thing. We'll cheer and tell our friends of the latest, we'll take a bagillion pictures and videos -- it will even become the best new party trick. With so much energy and joy it's hard to know what to do or how to feel when the milestones don't come exactly on "schedule," or close enough to what the baby book says, or what his friends are doing at the playgroup. All of that energy gets scrambled, shifted and directed in a new way which can be awful or helpful depending on how it plays out.

Sometimes I over-think and worry endlessly over something particular in my kid's development, or start dialing into the crazy amount of information on the Internet and the opinions of those around me. Other times I don't move quick enough, letting things go too long before I ask questions or inquire about help. With each step or misstep, I learn more about my children and myself. I have found my intuition is becoming a little sharper, learning how and when to listen to myself and others.

Even in the middle of all of our good intentions and our "fix it" culture, have we forgotten how different we all are? Kids included. Is there room for the variation? I wonder if these developmental tables, charts, and guides are used in a way that they were never meant to be used. It seems like a mix of having good care providers, building a tribe or community, listening to my kids, believing in myself as a parent and adopting a wider view of the world has been the recipe to navigate the milestone madness. All that and knowing the next best party trick ever is coming in due time.

The Catrows

"Bigger babies sometimes roll over a little later."

This brief comment, made by our wonderful pediatrician while looking over my then two-month-old chunk of a baby boy, was meant as a simple heads up should he not reach this milestone by the expected time (although that really depends on who you ask).

Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect.

(Don't blame our doctor. My need for control is totally responsible for this one.)

After that visit to the doctor, I spent the next few weeks fixated on my son JR's rolling skills. But no matter what I tried (and I tried everything), that child just would not do it; he had no interest whatsoever. He also weighed over 12 pounds at that point and sported a head in the 90th percentile -- that's a lot of body to move around. But fret I did.

Finally, in a fit of frustration (and exhaustion) I started crying and declared to my husband, "He's never going to roll over! Something is wrong with our bay-beeeee!!!"

JR rolled over the next day.

That scenario set the tone for pretty much every milestone early on in JR's life: sitting up on his own, responding to his name, knowing who "mama" and "dada" were, etc. The latest email from Baby Center or the current chapter in What to Expect would tell me what behavior was probably coming up, I worried when it didn't happen right away, wondered (sometimes dramatically) if it ever would, only for it to take place pretty much the next day (and usually well within the "typical time-frame"). Lather, rinse, repeat.

Let me be upfront in saying that I don't particularly like this about myself -- in fact, I would say it's my biggest flaw as a parent. However, it comes from a place of love… and fear. I'm not say that having a child who faces challenges is something to be scared of. But I am afraid of missing something. I'm afraid of not acting quickly enough if his behavior or development seems "off," for lack of a better word. I'm afraid of not doing everything in my power to give my child the support he needs.

On the other hand, I don't want JR to feel as if my only concern is getting him on to the next milestone, rather than enjoying who and where he is right now. I want him to know that he's wonderful no matter what.

Not a day goes by that I'm not (at some point) floored by the responsibility that comes with being a parent. I don't want to screw it up by not paying attention. But, as JR gets older, I'm starting to realize that by focusing on checklists and charts, I'm setting myself up to miss something after all: the special person that he is and the joy he brings to my life.

Unlike the exact date my child starts to walk or speak in sentences, my approach to JR's development is something I can actually control. So for now, I'm trying to choose the joy over the fear, the "now" over the "what's next?" And I hope I'll be a better parent for it.

Ross and Valerie Catrow welcomed their first baby (a giant, redheaded, blue-eyed boy name JR) in November of 2008. They spend the majority of their time running this website, missing Battlestar Galactica, and playing RockPaperScissors over who has to take the dogs out.

Ok, your turn

What's your attitude towards milestones? Are you a worrier, more laid back, or is it a more "case-by-case" type of thing?

Raising Richmond: The Great School Debate

Patience Salgado — Tue, 11 May 2010 10:00:25 +0000

Editor's note: Today's feature is the newest installment of our parenting column written by two sets of Richmonders: Jorge and Patience Salgado (veteran parents of four gorgeous children), and Ross and Valerie Catrow (parenting rookies who have only been doing this "raising a child thing" for a little while). Check back fortnightly to watch them discuss/agree/disagree/throw down over all kinds of parenting issues, Richmond-related and beyond.

Today's question: Public? Private? Charter schools? Homeschooling? Where do you stand on The Great School Debate?

The Salgados

Oh, how I miss the bliss of preschool. The days where play and art are the primary form of learning. Being a former preschool teacher myself, I was completely unfazed by sending my kids off to the care of others, mostly because the doors were so wide open. It didn't feel like leaving that much at all -- it felt like a visit with your favorite auntie.

Elementary school, well, that was a different animal all together.

All of the sudden I felt like we were releasing our boy into the great big world... and maybe even a jungle. Someone I just met two days ago would now spend eight hours a day with my kid, seriously limiting my own time with him. We were officially inviting a stranger into the influencing-our-child mix in a major way, and that scared the bejeezus out of me.

It is hard not to become obsessed with the decision of where, when, and how. The six months before kindergarten became known as The Great School Debate at our house, and boy, were there lots of questions flying around.

Do we send him to our local city district school that isn't that great now but is up and coming? It isn't that diverse, so will that be a problem for our kid who will be the minority?

Do we try to lottery him into one of the three "good schools" in the city? Does that mean we aren't investing on our primary community if we choose that route?

Do we attempt to send him to a private school we can't really afford? Will we be wading into a more elitist world then? Is the learning environment too intense?

Do we homeschool? Are homeschool kids just a little weird? Is it a good weird?

(Charter wasn't even a twinkle in some one's eye at the time.)

Call me a helicopter, fanatic, liberal, crazy parent, but these are the honest to God thoughts that I grappled with. I was fully aware these are first world problems, but at the time they all felt so much bigger than they were. Truth be told, I couldn't quite find what I was hoping for in any of my options, but I am pretty picky and dream big. I went on tours, researched on the Internet, and sat on the edge of sandboxes at the park to talk to other parents in the same boat. I called older mothers when it all felt too overwhelming to talk me off the silly ledge. In the end, we decided to try to lottery in to the good schools; if we didn't get in, it would be our sign to go to our neighborhood school. We didn't get in and off we went, until a week later we got a call there was a spot for our son at one of the schools, but we would need to decide soon. Very soon.

We felt conflicted. This was a curve ball in our universe-revealing plan. I went to pick up food from Oburrito (oh, how I miss that place) and asked the guy making my burrito what he would do. Should we stay and invest or go to something more solid? He smiled and said he thought we should do right by our kid first, so we did. Turns out later, his own kid went to the same school. The school has been fine -- nothing earth-shattering, but good. What I missed in the whole debate was one very part of the equation: our kids have us, and we have them. We really cared and would help our kids through anything, come what may. Children are much stronger than we give them credit for and with our support will find a way to be in the world that is good for all. We can and should be putting our trust in each other... or at least this is what I tell myself.

Did someone say middle school?

The Catrows

With most parenting decisions, my husband and I don't waffle. We knew right away where we stood on breastfeeding, co-sleeping, vaccines, and what have you. But the topic of schooling has led to some sleepless nights, at least on my part. And we've got three to four years before it's even a real issue!

We take education very seriously -- not in a snobby way, but, you know, knowledge is power, etc. While we feel so very fortunate that we have educational options to choose from, those choices can be somewhat paralyzing/suffocating/"oh my hell, what do we dooooo?" for me. Just ask anyone who had to be in my vicinity as I was trying to nail down a day care situation for our son. It wasn't pretty.

Put simply, to say I feel conflicted about schooling would be an understatement. In fact, it kind of turns me into a fretting, crazy person.

My husband and I are products of public school (albeit suburban ones) who went on to graduate with honors from respectable universities. I taught in the public school system for four years and loved the diversity of it. We think one of the most important factors to the success of neighborhood public schools is having parents who have intentionally enrolled their kids and are committed to being involved with what goes on in the building.

But.

While our city neighborhood feeds into a solid elementary school (where we do plan on sending our son), middle school and high school in our area are great, big, terrifying unknowns, as they are for many parents who have chosen to live within the city limits.

Part of me thinks, "We've made the choice to invest in Richmond by living in the city; if we're going to walk the walk, we better be ready to really walk it." So we should just keep the kid enrolled in our neighborhood schools, be supportive of what they're doing, and commit to making it work for our family.

Here's another but...

At the same time, I don't want to potentially short-change our kid just to prove a point, to say "Look how awesome and socially-aware we are, all living in the city and what not." We have no plans on moving, so if we're not comfortable with the middle and high schools in our area, we owe it to him to explore the other option of private school, right? But to be honest, while the idea of a likely smaller school is appealing, the private route causes hand-wringing as well. Aside from the expense (which is actually comparable to what we pay for day care... my checkbook groans whenever I open it), private school is totally uncharted territory for us. Will it be diverse enough? Will he fit in? What if their academic approach isn't a good fit and we have to start the search all over again? And is the prospect of paying for school absolutely ridiculous when there is a free one right over there?

When it comes down to it, I just want to do what's best for my kid and what makes the most sense for our family... but I currently have no idea what that looks like. So, I'm turning to you. Please share your thoughts, your experiences, and your opinions. My husband would really appreciate it -- one can only take so much of a hand-wringing madwoman.

Ross and Valerie Catrow welcomed their first baby (a giant, redheaded, blue-eyed boy name JR) in November of 2008. They spend the majority of their time running this web site, missing Battlestar Galactica, and playing RockPaperScissors over who has to take the dogs out.

Ok, your turn

What schooling route did you choose and why? Did you even have a choice? How has it all turned out for you and your little ones?

Raising Richmond: Dear Mom, You were right

Patience Salgado — Tue, 27 Apr 2010 10:00:22 +0000

Editor's note: Today's feature is the newest installment of our parenting column written by two sets of Richmonders: Jorge and Patience Salgado (veteran parents of four gorgeous children), and Ross and Valerie Catrow (parenting rookies who have only been doing this "raising a child thing" for a little while). Check back fortnightly to watch them discuss/agree/disagree/throw down over all kinds of parenting issues, Richmond-related and beyond.

As you know, Mother's Day is right around the corner, and we thought it only appropriate for the moms who contribute to this column to show a little appreciation for their moms. So...

Today's question: What was your mother right about all along?

Patience Salgado

Dear Mom,

I'm sure you thought this day would never come. I mean, how many children come back to their mothers confessing how right they were? I am investing in the trust bank by coming clean even now because today is a new day and we always have a chance to make things right. So yes, clean sheets do make a person feel better, and I try to take my Emergen-C everyday so I don't get sick in the first place. I now know I should absolutely treat my illness symptomatically and Zicam only works if you take it right away. I must say having a nurse for a mother made being sick bearable.

You were right, Jorge is a nice boy, and I totally get how important it is to always work on your marriage. I can see how it will be the greatest gift I give my kids. Speaking of kids, I do love them all differently but with just as much passion. I feel the same way you do when you tell that story (for the 1,000th time) about that day you were sitting in McDonald's, watching us play, wondering how you got us. My kids are the most special people, and I'm not sure how I got them either. Although, kids will break anything you care about and after a short time of being annoyed, I do realize that I don't care that much about stuff in the first place.

I remember to take the wet washcloth in a Ziplock on all kid adventures -- it is a must and it's true that resourcefulness is a sign of intelligence. Just like you, I can now make an entire platter in the backseat of my car on the way to a party. I do realize I am a good organizer and I have used that sewing machine you insisted on buying me more than I ever imagined. You should know I am pushing myself in the things I don't feel good at and I know I should keep trying.

When the chips are down I can see now that happiness is a choice. Even though my thoughts change daily about God, Jesus, and the like, I have felt, just like you say, something bigger comes to me in the dark and I am not alone. I'll still totally take the prayers from your prayer ladies. I know it's important to go to people when they are down, sad, sick, or dying, and I only stay a short while. I get more than anything that kindness is a way of life. I got that message big, Mom. It might have been the most important thing you have ever taught me. So thanks mom, thanks for being right about so much. Happy Mother's Day!

Valerie Catrow

Dear Mom,

You and I didn't spend much time arguing when I was growing up. I think we can attribute that to the fact that we are quite different. Some might assume that our differences would actually be the cause of conflict, but it seems that we've opted for a "You do your thing, I'll do mine" approach to our relationship. But that's not to say that you didn't attempt to impart some school-of-life-knowledge on me as I was growing up. And that's not to say I wasn't listening.

You were right about a lot of things. Ok, if I'm being honest, if you made the point to explicitly tell me what was what about something, you were right more often than not. Here are few highlights that have stuck with me over the years, the mundane, the profound, and the mushy...

As much as I want to wear black all the time, I really do look my best when in purple, green, or bright blue.

Sunscreen is a must, even if I hate how it feels and smells. Thank you for harping on me about protecting my ridiculously fair skin. Not only have you saved me from horrific sun damage, you're also saving my equally pasty child from a similar fate.

A hot bath and a good night's sleep can solve most problems -- or at least make them seem less scary.

Good manners are just as important as being smart, funny, or pretty.

Mental health days are essential for everyone, but especially for me, considering my tendency to be wound a little tight.

Dishes come out cleaner if you rinse them before putting them in the dishwasher, no matter what these new, fancy machines promise. And no matter how much I wish that weren't true.

The comments on a report card are more important than the grades. Recognition for your positive attitude and respect for others trumps your GPA every time.

A little dirt never hurt anyone. A lot of dirt never really hurt anyone either.

I can't please everyone all the time, and it's not my job to do so. Doing my best has to be enough…for me and for everyone else.

I do have great eyelashes.

I am a good mother. You've been saying that to me (hell, practically chanting that at me) since I found out I was pregnant. It's your response any time I express a concern or wish for my child and it's what you say in passing as you watch he and I interact. Thanks for that -- thanks for all of this. I think you're a good mother, too.

Now it's your turn

What was your mother right about?

Raising Richmond: Parent burnout

Patience Salgado — Tue, 30 Mar 2010 16:00:54 +0000

Editor's note: Today's feature is the newest installment of our parenting column written by two sets of Richmonders: Jorge and Patience Salgado (veteran parents of four gorgeous children), and Ross and Valerie Catrow (parenting rookies who have only been doing this "raising a child thing" for a little while). Check back fortnightly to watch them discuss/agree/disagree/throw down over all kinds of parenting issues, Richmond-related and beyond.

Kids can be quite demanding. Their needs combined with demands of daily life can make us feel like we're going to lose our damn minds. And so...

Today's question: How do you deal with parent burnout?

The dads took the reigns on the last one, so the mamas will lead the discussion today. Take a look at what we think and be sure to share your tips and tricks while you're here.

Patience Salgado

My husband is the king of the snooze button. No matter what time it is set for, it must beep and be snoozed a minimum of five times. I measure my level of burnout by how annoyed I am by this.

How many beeps it takes before I am annoyed is in direct correlation with my level of burnout:

5 beeps: No worries, the sun is shining and it's a new day!

4 beeps: Wow, that's annoying. But oh well, gotta get going.

3 beeps: Why oh why does he do this?

2 beeps: This better not wake the baby.

1 beeps: Oh my God, I'm gonna kill him.

Burn out is a tricky trickster, so usually I don't even see her coming. I am doing my life, day in and day out, just like the other millions of mothers in the world. Waking, nursing, feeding, brushing, dressing, carrying, holding, scrambling, drying, writing, editing, photographing, living the everyday. All of the sudden the usual just starts to feel completely overwhelming, everything I did just the day before feels bigger, longer, stronger. Even after four kids, I still have trouble recognizing when I am closing in on my limit. Maybe it is because I can push through, taking myself even further in carrying on the curse of capability. The question becomes: Just because we can, does it mean we should? I have found for me the answer is often "no."

Self care becomes the name of the game. It isn't possible without some intention and help from those who love you. I spent way too many years sucking it up when I could have had all I really needed. Here are my go-to self care steps when I feel at the end of my rope:

Be the baby.
Get back to the basics of your own self care. Take long baths, buy fresh fruits and veggies. Now is the perfect time for some Emergen-C (or other vitamins). Try to go to bed early or sleep when the baby/kids sleep. A good dose of nature can help to turn the funk around.

Cut one thing out.
Say no or back out of one commitment in your life. Even if it's small, sometimes just clearing something takes the pressure off so you can regroup. If your hyper-responsibility is screaming at the thought, consider asking someone to just cover for you for a week or two instead.

Buy something for yourself.
It doesn't even have to cost very much, it is just a good reminder to focus on your self. Pick up a magazine, a new book, flowers, a favorite facial scrub, or a pair of earrings, something only you will enjoy. (If you are a burnt out dad, insert some awesome guy thing here.) You don't even have to share.

Call in the reinforcements.
Don't be a hero or a martyr. Kids have a great way of challenging whatever you think you should be able to handle or hold. The beauty lies in how our children require us to create community for not only them, but also for ourselves. It takes a village... or what I like to call "the tribe."

When all else fails, grab a beer with a buddy or coffee with a girlfriend. I promise, some parent somewhere has stood in the same place. Everything changes when we realize we are not alone, even if the only way we know is by the snooze button.

Valerie Catrow

When I first approached Patience with the idea of making our next Raising Richmond column about parent burnout, I did so for purely selfish reasons.

You see, I have a toddler. The toddler-iest toddler in all of Toddlerland. Our days are filled with cuteness and joy, but also with food battles, temper tantrums over me being so cruel as to not let him eat toilet paper, and that ever-present word: NO!

So in a moment of pure mama desperation, I played on Patience’s good work ethic and respect for deadlines as a way to compare notes and get some advice - although I’m sure she would have just given it if I’d ask. She does have a reputation for being quite kind.

But, don’t worry, this isn’t a purely parasitic relationship here. While I certainly will be adding Patience’s thoughts to my anti-parenting-burnout arsenal, I do have a few helpful tidbits for those of you currently trudging through the trenches right along with us.

Don’t fight it.
Parenting (also: LIFE) is frustrating. Sometimes you just need to cry and yell and stomp your feet. Find a safe place (preferably out of your children’s earshot -- we don’t want to scare the little dears) and have at it. Letting it out will hopefully prevent you from taking it out on someone else. Bottled-up frustration leads to resentment... and no one wants that.

Divide and conquer (or nap).
We have a rule in our house: no one gets a break unless everyone gets a break. If you get 15 minutes to yourself, I get 15 minutes to myself. Additionally, requests for breaks are always respected (no passive aggressive mutterings of “Ugh, FINE!”) and encouraged (your partner won’t know you’re about to crack unless you say so). This keeps things balanced and fair, making everyone feel like they’re being heard and cared for.

Look back.
While we do refer to the iPhone as the “Neglect-o-tron” in our house, I must say that mine has come in handy when I find myself ravaged by the latest toddler stand-off. I made a point to save all of the pictures I took of JR in the hospital after he was born, along with the congratulatory text messages I received during our stay. A quick flip through those reminds me why I’m here in the first place. Spending some time with the little one’s baby book would surely have a similar effect.

Choose to be present.
Few things center me more than spending 20 minutes building (and knocking over) block towers with my kid. For me, the biggest challenge of this whole parenting gig is feeling like I’m constantly being pulled in a million different directions. Finger painting, digging in the dirt, playing a game together, anything that demonstrates a choice to be in the moment with your child makes you feel more in control and that pull a little less noticeable. Your kids will love it, too.

Ross and Valerie Catrow welcomed their first baby (a giant, redheaded, blue-eyed boy name JR) in November of 2008. They spend the majority of their time running this web site, missing Battlestar Galactica, and playing RockPaperScissors over who has to take the dogs out.

Ok, now it's your turn.

How do you handle parenting burnout? Do tell, do tell.

Raising Richmond: RVA faves

Patience Salgado — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 17:00:47 +0000

Editor's note: Today's feature is the newest installment of our parenting column written by two sets of Richmonders: Jorge and Patience Salgado (veteran parents of four gorgeous children), and Ross and Valerie Catrow (parenting rookies who have only been doing this "raising a child thing" for a little while). Check back fortnightly to watch them discuss/agree/disagree/throw down over all kinds of parenting issues, Richmond-related and beyond.

Last week we talked about favorite things about our kids, so why not do the same thing for our beloved city? So...

Today's question: What are some of your favorite things in Richmond?

We've broken it down into specific categories, but feel free to share your faves (whatever they may be) in the comments.

The Salgados

Pediatricians

Monument Avenue Pediatrics - Dr. Wayne Thorpe: So after four kids and visiting half the pediatricians in RVA, I can tell you I finally found our place. It’s a total zoo in there, but I’d do pretty much anything for a good pediatrician. I appreciate Dr. Thorpe’s style and kindness towards my kids. I often feel like we are working together as he is a great listener, which is amazing considering all who roll through his door.

Partners in Pediatrics - Dr. Gayle Smith: If you are willing to pay just a bit more, Gayle is your gal. She gives incredible and very personalized care and service. No wait and lots of love. My boys loved her.

Restaurants

Perly's: Every family needs a good breakfast joint, and Perly’s is our family favorite. You might have to wait a few minutes on a Saturday morning, but it’s worth it. The wait staff is quick and kind to children, and more importantly, the biscuits will make you swoon.

Bottom’s Up: I totally shouldn’t confess this, but pizza is practically a staple at our house. Bottom’s Up is the yummiest deep dish you’ll find in town. They usually seat families in a section with big tables outside which is perfect for us. The crayons and paper provided make life easier too. My kids will tell you to order the root beer - it makes the experience complete.

Park

The Carillon Tot Lot: The small playground nestled behind the Carillon is our usual stomping ground. It has just a little bit of everything to keep all ages and stages happy. Being surrounded by the trees keeps things cool and shaded. When we get bored we wander the rest of Dogwood Dell and Byrd Park.

Hangout

The River: Pony Pasture and Texas Beach are where the lazy days are spent. Kids make rock sculptures and tiny dams in the flowing water. They rock hop and look for tiny minnows for hours on end. We don’t even mind sharing the nature with the hipsters at Texas Beach.

Free kids' activity

Dogwood Dell Festival of Arts: We are still a good way off, but a girl can dream of green grass and a warm breeze right? The Festival of Arts series always has a great variety of shows and exhibits for children through the summer, not to mention the fireworks on the Fourth. I always look forward to seeing what will be on the schedule for the Ha’ Penny stage.

Kids' store

World of Mirth: Duh, of course! They have the best quality and most quirky toys in town. The staff treats kids like people, and who doesn’t like the crazy carnival mirror out front? You can also pat yourself on the back for keeping’ it local folks!

Hidden treasure

Narnia Books: The loveliest little children’s book store tucked away off Belmont Avenue. I’ve always dreamed of living over my very own bookstore or ice cream shop, but that’s my inner Meg Ryan dying to get out I’m sure. They have a wonderful collection and very helpful service. Put this one on your list, people.

Kid-free hiding spot

The Buttermilk Trail: We hike it, most bike it. The nature is why we live in Richmond, and don't forget Virginia is For Lovers! No seriously, it’s dreamy in spring and a great way to start a morning together followed by some Millie’s brunch.

The Catrows

Pediatricians

West End Pediatrics - Dr. Scott Iwashyna: I can't say enough good things about this guy and the rest of the staff at West End Pediatrics. Dr. Iwashyna (that's ee-vuh-shin-uh... oh just call him Dr. Scott) is exactly what we were looking for in a pediatrician: knowledgeable, thorough, and so, so kind. I mean, he calls our kid "doodle," how cute is that? They've also got a Facebook page, send out email newsletters, and let you schedule appointments online. What can I say? We love technology over here. And on top of everything else, it's a relatively small practice, so we've never had a problem scheduling an appointment... even for those last minute, sick visits.

Restaurants

Garnett's Cafe: While Joe's Inn is typically our go-to place when we've got our kid in tow, I have to say that Garnett's is our new favorite spot to grab lunch as a family. Sure, it's small (as most restaurants in the city are) but the atmosphere is so bright and friendly - and they've got a nice selection of tot-friendly snacks that are a welcome departure from your standard kids menu (Peanut butter sandwich with apple butter? Yum.)

Park

Bryan Park: Sure, it might not have loads of communal toys scattered around like Lombardy Park, but Bryan Park playground's is the winner in our minds because of two things: LOTS of swings and LOTS of room to run. Plus, parking is a breeze.

Hangout

Maymont: Expected, I know, but I fear I would lose my RVA card if I didn't go with this one. But seriously, my kid is obsessed with farm animals. And the teacher in me is equally obsessed with finding real life experiences to match what he sees in those books we read over and over (and over and over and over) again. Plus, all those trails mean good exercise for everyone.

Free kids' activity

Westhampton Lake at the University of Richmond: Ever since our son started walking, I've been on the lookout for places where he can toddle himself silly. Westhampton Lake at the University of Richmond is perfect for this: paved path, relatively quiet, and a flock of geese at the ready to blow your kid's mind with all the squawking, waddling, and wing flapping he could ever want to see.

Kids' store

Once Upon a Child: Look, we're broke like everyone else. I can't afford to pay full price for anything, and why would I when our son is growing out of everything? So, 9 times out of 10, when it comes time to stock up on clothes and toys, we head over to Once Upon a Child. They have a great selection with many of the items available at a fraction of the regular price. One tip: if you're looking for something in particular (especially items like baby gates or high chairs), call ahead. Since it's a resale shop, the inventory is a bit less predictable.

Hidden treasure

Grove Avenue Baptist Church Music & Movement Class: Part of me doesn't even want to mention this, but in the spirit of parental solidarity, I will. For $5 per kid per class (or $25 for a six-week session), you and your kid get 45 minutes of brain-meltingly cute music with Ms. Nancy, who just might be The Nicest Person on The Planet.

Kid-free hiding spot

Movieland & Ipanema: For us it doesn't get much better than catching a movie and then heading out for a drink and some snacks at Ipanema where the food is always good, friends are always around (or on their way), and the lighting is such that everyone looks dreamy.

Ross and Valerie Catrow welcomed their first baby (a giant, redheaded, blue-eyed boy name JR) in November of 2008. They spend the majority of their time running this web site, missing Battlestar Galactica, and playing RockPaperScissors over who has to take the dogs out.

Raising Richmond: The little things we love

Patience Salgado — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 17:00:43 +0000

Editor's note: Today's feature is the newest installment of our parenting column written by two sets of Richmonders: Jorge and Patience Salgado (veteran parents of four gorgeous children), and Ross and Valerie Catrow (parenting rookies who have only been doing this "raising a child thing" for a little while). Check back fortnightly to watch them discuss/agree/disagree/throw down over all kinds of parenting issues, Richmond-related and beyond.

With Valentine's Day quickly approaching, we thought it only appropriate to let the lovey-doveyness spill over here a little bit. So...

Today's question: What are the little things you love about your kids?

Patience Salgado

Life and especially parenting is made up of a million tiny moments that somehow make everything add up. The pieces all together expose how rich and deep life (and love) really is.

Here are my tiny pieces of love at the moment:

I love eavesdropping on my boys’ (ages 7 and 9) play dates during the joke telling portion of the day. You’ve never heard so many knock-knock and fart jokes in your life. Giggling is my favorite.

I love Lucy’s (age 4) recent collection of family portraits. We are very scary alien-looking people holding hands.

I love how Jack (age 7) shrinks the dog after I yell at him. “It’s ok boy, you’re not always in the way.”

I love how Josiah (age 9) always wants to go on errands with me so we can talk about Legos and video games alone in the car.

I love Lyra’s coy and very I-know-I’m-the-baby smile when she is doing something she knows she shouldn’t. It came directly from her baby-of-the-family father.

I love Jack’s killer wink and how he always puts his hands in his pockets when we go somewhere new.

I love Josiah’s very intentional nurture of Lyra. His constant watchful eye and care has given them a deep bond.

I love Lucy’s serious love of shopping. She can look at clothes and shoes for hours; it’s like being with your best girlfriend, except she’s four.

I love the collective music love of The Beatles and Queen from all the children in the house. They request both bands on a regular basis.

I love Jack’s request for a special drink (sparkling juice in the wine bottle) at every grocery shopping trip. He isn’t fazed when I tell him it is only for special occasions -- he still insists we toast to something at every dinner.

I love Lyra’s conversation. I feel like I’m living with a foreign national, no clue what she’s saying but this does not hinder her in the least. Kid talks all day long.

I love the entire family’s need to be in the same 250 square feet. Our house for six people is around 1200, and yet I swear we could live in a 700 square foot flat in London and be happy as clams.

Valerie Catrow

Like every parent, the love I have for our son JR is very big. It catches me off guard and is still something that I can't quite wrap my head around. As big as my love for him is, I feel it most often in the little things about him, the bits of personality that pop up every now and then. Here are just a few:

I love how he is so brave when it comes to being around new people. He jumps right in without missing a beat.

I love how he smiles at strangers, even when they’re not looking at him.

I love his level of focus when filling and emptying containers. His precision reminds me very much of his engineer grandfather.

I love that “uh-oh” is a woeful “ruh-rohhhhh.”

I love how he brushes off his hands when he gets dirt or sand on them.

I love that he can hold his own with our two big, dumb dogs now.

I love how he still thinks that cows say “Boooooooo.”

I love that eating pretzels while looking out the window is his favorite pastime.

I love his new habit of humming when I hold him like he’s a baby.

I love how he calls all things blanket-like “Bee-bees.”

I love the brief pause he takes before saying “Mama.” And the smile he cracks as he says it just kills me.

I love that he uses “Whoa” appropriately.

I love how he goes from being dead asleep to talking a mile a minute in 0.3 seconds. Just like his dad.

I love how he’s still a bit of a mystery to us, surprising us every day, leaving us in constant anticipation of what who he’ll become and what he’ll show us next.

Now it's your turn...

Tell us little things you love about your kids.