From guest blogger Samara Tilkens Postuma….

We have all heard about how television, video games and the media affect our children. But lately, I’ve been thinking about something I have yet to see a study on. Cell phones.
 
No I’m not thinking about cell phones and their beta rays and the risks some say are associated with that.
 
I want to know how are our children affected by parents who use cell phones.

We didn’t grow up with our parents walking around with a cell phone. Our parents went to the grocery store and if they couldn’t remember what brand of salad dressing to buy there was no cell phone to use to find out. There weren’t other parents sitting on the park bench texting their spouse about dinner plans or events to note on the calendar.
 
I don’t think cell phones are inherently a bad thing. They add a lot of convenience to our lives. Isn’t that the whole point of technology?
 
But how do you think our three year olds interpret our conversations catching up with friends as we’re driving on 94? Or when we are texting at their baseball game? Or when we just can’t seem to hang up?
 
I’ve noticed myself trying to limit cell phone time when my three year old is awake.  (Not only for the reasons I’ve already noted but pair a distracted mom and a busy three year old and you’re bound for disaster.)

I’m the first to admit, if I’m in the middle of Target looking for something my husband asked for, I’m not even going to hesitate to call him. But I am not sure I want my kids to grow up remembering me on my phone all the time. That I was distracted and not fully present because my phone was ringing with a phone call or buzzing with a new text.
 
So, Cribsheeters, have you ever thought about this? Do you think my questions are pointless and void? Or are my concerns relevant?

I am not claiming to have the answers on this, rather, I’m curious because this is an internal struggle that I am having. 
Samara Tilkens Postuma
http://simplicityinthesuburbs.blogspot.com
 

Lenore Moritz and designer hubby Michael Rabatin are on the cover of Metro Mag this month….along their Mill City condo, which they share with their two little ones. It’s a meditation on how kids and design need not be mutually exclusive concepts. Oh, and the pix are gorgeous.

Cribsheeters may remember Lenore from her guest blogs on MomCulture.

I particularly like this line in the Metro article:

“Rabatin, who prefers to decorate with a tonal base and then let people and art add color and energy, designed this home on exactly those principles.”

We like a neutral base too, though our splashes of color tend to be inadvertant and of the spaghetti sauce and juice variety. Just kidding, Michael. Your condo is gorgeous.

Home with baby and craving culture, New York transplant Lenore Moritz started Mom Culture, a regular arts outing for parents of young ones in the Twin Cities. (Yes, she’s blogged on Cribsheet before.) The best part is you can bring you kids along and nobody bats an eyelid if they start to cry in the middle of a concerto. This week, she’s introducing a new concept…

Dayclubbing is what I like to call it. It’s like nightclubbing except the drink special is a milk-filled sippy cup and your diaper bag has taken over the space once occupied by that little purse that held just your cash and lipstick.  After all, every good clubbing experience involves a trusty, energetic sidekick.

Dayclubbing is what’s happening at the Mom Culture event this Thursday, March 12: live music from a great band, (Batak Tribe ); dancing (optional), fun people (definitely), kids (both wild and mellow) and a chance for you to feel energized and find balance. Your interests count and you have permission to be unapologetic for needing your fix of adult music, arts and performance! (See www.momcultureonline.com for more details)

I found the band for Thursday’s concert while scanning the club listings — the leader of the group played the Dakota Jazz Club last week. Because Batak Tribe is largely comprised of international musicians, they bring fresh experiences to the stage and a unique sound that will transport us to far-off, definitely warmer and more tropical places. This concert will be my spring break!

No need to “dress to impress” — we’re all just moms looking for good music, a fun vibe and a chance to reconnect our inner-grown up.

Sign up for Mom Culture’s newsletter or keep checking the site to stay up to date on what’s upcoming.

You’ve been reading the wonderful essays of Kate Hopper’s Mother Words student’s all week - now how about one from the mother of Mother Words herself? Her powerfully moving essay was recently spotlighted in the New York Times Magazine’s parenting blog Motherlode. May and I were so impressed yet not surprised to see Kate featured there a few weeks ago.

Read on:

Afraid to Love Her Preemie:
by Lisa Belkin

But that was not the world we inhabited after Stella was born. Our world was filled with shiny white floors and skinny babies in incubators and on open warming beds. Our world was filled with tubes and wires and flashing lights. In that world, you can’t count on anything. You must stash your heart carefully away. You must not fall in love, just in case.

Read the full post here MOTHERLODE and the heartfelt comments of others who have had similar experiences.

Thank you to all of the Mother Words students for sharing their essays this week!
If you are interested in finding out more about Kate Hopper and the various classes she offers go to www.katehopper.com

Our fourth essay is from Kara Douglass Thom…

There are days like this.

Days that dissolve into an existence only within the confines of my house. These are the days of sick children. Despite appointments, obligations, errands, and engagements stacked high on today’s to-do list, it all ceases to exist.

All because someone barfed.

Because the vomiting children couldn’t go to preschool, I couldn’t go to yoga. That didn’t mean, however, that I could not do yoga. I figured, today, perhaps more than any other day, I needed yoga. I needed inner peace.

After untold loads of laundry and restructuring linens on beds; after cleaning stains on the carpet and wiping down the walls, I prepared for zen. I gave a bag of fruit snacks to the not yet barfing child (any mother can recognize this for the miracle it is), opened a juice box for the child in remission, and provided a blanket to the child still huddled in a ball on the couch. I popped “Little Mermaid” into the DVD player and retreated to the basement.

Shortly after Rodney Yee introduced himself, the child in remission descended into the basement to find me. Innocently, sweetly, quietly, she asked if she could do yoga with me.

“Of course, honey,” I said, my focus undeterred.

Ten minutes later I heard a small bottom thumping down the stairs. (more…)