Monthly Archives: June 2009

Kids & Hot Cars

“Good mothers don’t do this,”  wept a mother during a police interview after she realized she’d left her daughter in a hot car for 8 hours one August. I saw her on Oprah this week.

Every summer we hear about parents who leave their kids in a hot car all day and they die from heat stroke.

Every summer I am riddled with questions and am mystified by this story. Having previously worked in the auto industry, it was also a heated topic of discussion at my office as these stories broke each summer. Everyone has really strong opinions on this one.

I am just confused. I find that the people who don’t yet have children seem to have really strong black & white convictions that this is an absurd and totally avoidable scenario and the guilty parent should be sent to jail for killing a child.

I definitely don’t see it that clearly but I’m not without judgment.  This spring the Washington Post had a really long Magazine story about this very issue, featuring several parents who had all suffered the loss of a young child at their own hands by leaving them in a hot car.  I cried several times while reading it.

For me, the most chilling point made in the piece was made by a shrink who said that if you have ever left your cell phone at home, then you are capable of leaving your child in a car. It’s how your mind works.

But here’s my first question – how do you go an entire work day without checking on your child? This is the part that I just can’t get past. I had a routine of checking in twice a day. Is that psycho? Is that too much? I have no idea. It’s what I did because I enjoyed hearing an update on DD1′s day, how her day was at school, whatever it was she was up too. Sometimes I missed a call from our nanny and wouldn’t return it until prior to leaving for the day, but the point is – I knew she was alive and kicking.

So here you go – this is the main question I have on this issue that I just cannot get past. How do you not check on your kids during the work day? I do not believe that anyone is too busy to do this. No one. Don’t kid yourselves into thinking your work is that important, right? Now would this avoid the death of a child? I’m not sure. Would they still be alive 4 hours into being left in a hot car? I have no idea. So is this a worthwhile question? Who knows. But this is my blog, so it’s my main question.

Moving on – what does this say about our society? At what point do we stop and take stock of our lives – not just the parents who have suffered this horrendous loss – but all of us – and really digest that this is happening? And repeatedly.  What does it say specifically about parenthood and how much parents are juggling that their mind can shut off and they can leave a beloved child in a car to die?  This scenario spreads across race and class lines – from pediatricians to electricians – moms and dads. At what point do we all stop with the madness and cut a few things out of our life to help avoid this scenario – to stop being stretched too thin?

I just can’t let it go. I don’t understand how you can forget your child is in your car. I feel like as a parent who has felt stretched far too thin, I can say this. Maybe my kids are just loud. But I just don’t get it. Yet it’s happening – so what do we need to change about our lives? Do people put unrealistic pressure on themselves to be this perfect parent? Because if that’s the case, then they’re idiots. Isn’t doing our best, enough? And just being satisfied with your best might help cut some things out? I just don’t know. I’m brainstorming here because the idea of a child suffering a horrible death in a hot car for 8 hours warrants some serious brainstorming.

And then what about the parent who did this? Do they deserve to go to jail? Again, I’ve heard many childless friends speak very clearly that they have killed a child and should pay their dues. I’d argue that having to live the rest of their life knowing what they’ve done is punishment enough. My mom also thinks they should go to jail and well, she has 4 kids. I just don’t know.  I definitely don’t see it clearly but like I said before, I am not able to suspend all of my judgment of these parents. I have issues with it.

It’s a horrible horrible reality. And it seems that if we all took a step back and really took stock of our whole lives, maybe there wouldn’t be this sensation of being stretched too thin. Maybe our best is good enough. Perfection is absurd. I definitely am sure on that one.

Another Betrayed Wife

Anyone else keeping tabs on all the politicians, their affairs, the press conferences announcing it and the role of the betrayed wife? For all you loyal KT followers out there – and let me tell you – there are so many of you – you know that I love to observe these antics.

Obviously I am talking about the latest news of Governor Sanford taking off to parts unknown – as it turns out Argentina – because of his affair with a woman. Over the weekend, DH showed an unusual amount of interest in the story of the  MIA Governor. He was so sure it was going to be yet another salacious gay affair. His sudden interest amused me and well – we all knew the dear old conservative Christian Governor was either dead or clearly having an affair with someone. The fact that he left the country and headed to Argentina, where the beaches are amazing and the women gorgeous, truthfully does make it all the more interesting. Certainly something you can almost digest much easier than approaching people in, say, an airport bathroom stall. Or even moving hookers across state lines (I’m still miffed that Spitzer didn’t think our hookers here in DC were good enough for him).

But that’s not what today’s entry is about. It’s about the betrayed wife. We’ve stood there in disbelief and wondered what are they thinking – good ole Hilary, McGreevey’s wife, how about Spitzer’s wife? I mean seriously. Then came Elizabeth Edwards – we all took note that when John went on ABC Primetime in December to disclose the truth behind his affair, Elizabeth wasn’t there. I don’t know about you, but I totally respected her for it. I keep wondering – why should the wife give a crap about the husband’s career and show the voters that if she trusts him, we should, when he can’t keep his pants on? It’s so humiliating…..why stand there?

So Elizabeth stayed away.

And now we see Governor Sanford’s wife was decidedly absent during his odd, rambling, press conference yesterday. In fact, I read that she hasn’t spoken to him in two weeks.

Are we turning the tide here kittens? Are the scored political wives finally standing firm and giving their husbands the big “F You” very publicly by not standing there? I’m really hoping so because in that moment of political disaster for their careers, they ought to be up there alone, facing the cameras. You reap what you sow, boys.

But see – this time – this story is giving me pause beyond just the initial public reaction of the wife. It’s really about the dissolution of the marriage. A KT BFF who might be almost 40, though she doesn’t look a day over 21, a while back commented on how in the 30s, everyone is getting married and having babies. But she’d noticed amongst her 40 year old friends, everyone was divorcing.

This passing comment really stuck with me.

And then I look at Governor Sanford and his beautiful wife and their four boys and I wonder – what the hell is happening to these marriages after so many years? And though I’m not 40 yet, it’s coming a bit faster than I’d like, and so I can’t help but wonder. In particular now that I have two kids, it seems even more complicated, to deal with a divorce than it did after one kid. Everything just is even more intertwined. So how does this happen? Why does it happen? Do people just get bored after almost 20 years together and things die off?

For whatever reason, I am viewing this latest political scandal through a different lens, more sadness, and just wondering why and how the hell do people avoid it.

Quiet

I think the collective sigh of relief must have been heard around the neighborhood today…..summer camp started at DD1′s school.

I know I wasn’t the only relieved looking parent peeling into the parking lot as the clock struck 9am (somehow I have trouble being so on-time for pick-up….)

Never, ever, in my life have I been so thrilled for summer camp. Well, it’s also DD1′s first time attending summer camp. But seeing as how she was sick as a dog and missed the last two weeks of school, she’s basically been home full-time and lacking the structure of school for a month now.

Add in the fact that it’s like freaking Northern Europe except no where as cool and the beer isn’t as good – in that it’s been raining every single day for like this entire past month – and you can see that it is a recipe for bad behavior.

It finally dawned on me on Friday night when we were having dinner with friends (whose rooftop deck includes an amazing view of the Capitol, Library of Congress and Washington Monument…amazing). One friend noted that her 4 year old had been acting so bad lately and she was sure it was because it’s been a while since she’s been in school.

Ahh yes! No wonder the Tasmanian devil has re-entered my home. Of course! Was I so tired and so exhausted and so beaten down that I couldn’t piece this together on my own? I mean, for months, we actually referred to DD1 as “The Taz.”

And trust me, Taz has been back.  And with the return of  The Taz has come the return of the “Rules Chart.”

Anyone else have one of these displayed prominently in their house? Ahh….the joys of being 3. Curious about the rules?

“Obey Mommy and Daddy” tops the list….this seems like a broad-sweeping category that will be conveniently used as a threat, by moi, whenever I can’t think of anything else

“No Whining” comes in a close second. I mean really. Whining sucks. It’s painful.

“Put on your shoes when asked”

“Come to the table when asked”

“Be quiet outside baby’s room”

“Turn off the TV when asked”

Round out the remainder of the list.

Riveting, isn’t it?

Like I said…thank god for camp.

So after DD2 and me dropped off DD1 at camp…..we came home…..had a bottle…..DD2 had a nap…and suddenly I realized….everything is so QUIET.

I felt like I could hear myself think for the first time in a month. I mean seriously. I could finally hear a coherent thought. Never a deep thought but still – I could hear myself think. And we know my thoughts are precious.

Camp lasts every day this week. One full glorious week of daily camp until 1:30pm. I used to think camp was expensive.

Now I think it’s a god send.

Emailing at O’Dark Thirty

Look – don’t pretend like you’ve never done this. And if you haven’t, I bet you’ve thought about it. And if you’ve seriously never found yourself in this position – then that annoys me.

Are we all familiar with the enraged email that you bang out – usually to your spouse – at o’dark thirty? When you know that you probably shouldn’t be sending it and you know it definitely isn’t productive – and odds are it might not even be his fault – but really – he’s the one who got you pregnant and it’s therefore it’s his kid that has you up at that time- and he’s not there to help you deal – so really – isn’t it oh so cathartic?

It just  might be oh so wrong.

But it feels just so right.

And frankly – very little feels right at 4am. When you’ve been up for an hour already. And you don’t know when it’ll end but you know the sun comes up around 5:30am, therefore DD1 (who is also the child of said male you are sending threatening emails too, therefore it’s his fault) will be up – so really – your day began at 3am.

So why send the threatening email at o’dark thirty?

Why the hell not. KT might have found herself doing such a thing on Tuesday morning. I was all by my lonesome. This was the second hard night I’d had in a row with DD2, it was absurd that she had been up since 3am.Meanwhile DH was peacefully sawing logs back at home, with nary a care in the world, and an empty house facing him when he arose that morning. He could take his time, slumber around, do whatever the f he wanted before going to work, when he woke up.

But me? Oh hell no.

So is sending the threatening “get your ass to work early so that you can get home at a decent time and give me help or you are dead f’ing meat because I’ve already been up for an hour and it’s f’ing 4am” email a good idea?  I’m thinking YES because it just feels great to bang that out. Now doesn’t it?

Haven’t you done something similar?

I know that I cannot be alone in this, kittens. Fess up.

But see – this brings up another topic. The threat built into the email. Even if you haven’t sent your DH a threatening email at 4am, admit that you’ve sent him a threatening email. And the thing is, I really have found that when they know we really mean it, we finally get some action. Why do they respond to threats or yelling? Cause I know we don’t want to hear threats and yelling coming out of our mouths (well, actually, frankly, threats at 4am when I know he is sleeping elsewhere is exactly what I want to hear).

But seriously.

Example – yesterday DH left his office and got home by 4:30pm.

FOUR THIRTY.

Granted he read that email bright and early and actually went to work at 6am. But still. 4:30. It was like a christmas miracle. And it just teaches me that threats work.

Another example – we bought these beautiful number tiles in Provence in June 2007 (back when we had only one kid and we were in France. Alone. Without her. In other words, the glory days of June 2007).  Now, until 2 weeks ago, do you think those beautiful house tiles, that DH himself picked out, had been hung? Mais non! They had been pushed around and the topic of countless discussions and nagging sessions for TWO YEARS.

Well, I woke up with a real bee in my bonnet that morning and really laid into him. And you know what? Those tiles were hung that very day – he just quietly got to work and got it done (in like an hour, I might add, so if you count up all the time I’ve asked, pleaded, begged, nagged and most recently yelled, I spent more time asking than it took to complete). They look so great and now the front of my house looks how it’s supposed to look – dressed up with numbers from Provence.

So why do they respond to threats and yelling? Why? Why? Why? Cause the truth is, unless it is 4am, I really actually don’t want to do those things.

Yet between coming home at 4:30pm and hanging my French house numbers – you think I’m gonna refrain from a little yell or a threatening email again, when the opportunity presents itself?

Oh hell no.

Am I alone here, kittens?