You win some, you lose some. For all my mothering and motherhood skills, I suppose I have a trick or two to learn from Thrifty Mommy, though I’ve come a long way.

I’ve been trying to adhere to the Compact, as well as I can. Basically, I’m not supposed to buy anything new except medicine, food, and underwear. Glasses, I suppose. For the eyes, not the drinks. For the most part, I’ve been doing well. About a month ago, I spotted a platform bed in shambles on the street. I  borrowed a friend’s car and schlepped the pieces back to my house, then spent a laborious week trying to find the right bolts to put the thing back together again. Yes, I had to buy the bolts new, but I figured such a detail was mitigated by the sheer bulk of wood and such I’d just rescued from the dump.

It’s a very pretty bed, once I glued the broken bits back together and figured out that beds made in Malaysia might need metric bolts.  Never mind that I’ve got a (donated) full sized mattress on a queen sized frame. Ain’t nobody here to complain about it, just me and my boy.

Last month, I took the proceeds from the two blogs I write and treated myself to a set of three nesting tables: Danish Modern, used. That falls under the Compact, because I didn’t buy it new. And I made a new friend, who does personal shopping. If ever I own my own home, I’ll ask him to help furnish it. But those tables are the only things I’ve bought. Everything else came from family, friends, or Freecycle.

I buy all my clothes from a consignment store in my neighborhood, and the King of Everything is happy in hand-me-downs and thrift store finds. I pass his clothes on to a friend who has helped me out immensely, and to another single parent who could use a little help now and again.

In theory, I’m supposed to barter for services, but that’s just not going to work. There’s nothing my favorite hair dresser would need from me, and I don’t have the time to do any marketing or PR work for him anyway. So I pay for that haircut, and a luxury it is… massage chairs and a head massage at shampoo time, a cuppa in one hand and a good chat in the mirror as Dennis makes me something approaching teh hot. And I succumbed to the siren call of a pedicure and hey, the manicure was only $8 more!

I didn’t do too badly on the kid’s birthday, either. Friends and family bought him a few presents, no one went overboard. His father sent him some great space books, including a pop up pop out book on the space shuttle that unfolds to a four foot long extravaganza. But I gave Nico toys that friends have gifted us when we moved into our new house, toys they were recycling from their kids. Still in the box! My best score was a digital camera from Freecycle. He has been asking for a camera since Christmas, and takes a decent photo for a four year old. But I totally fell down on the job when it comes to plates, cups, napkins, and party favors. I bought them. New. And someone else made the cake.

And my guilty little secret: a couple of times a month I stop into the Caribou Coffee a block from the office to get a decent cup of coffee. But mostly, to say hello to the manager and soak in some of his incredibly kind, warm, friendly personality before I wander into my oh-so-amazing and stress-laden job.

A mother in my community was recently told by her six year old daughter’s school that they don’t have the resources or the training to give her the challenges she deserves. This is the second school in our city that has let this family down.

I find this appalling.

The nation’s capital should be a model for the rest of the country, and yet, here we are, struggling to pull our school system out of the crapper. Yes, there are six schools following the IB requirements. Yes, we have some of the best high schools in the country — School Without Walls comes immediately to mind — but we can’t give our best and brightest what they need.

So you know what happens? They move out of the city.

Now, I’m all for improving our local schools, and making sure everyone has access to a good education, regardless of their ability to pay. But do I really want my child to be the guinnea pig upon whom the system experiments? Perhaps if I were still a stay-at-home mother, I could be a staunch advocate for my child and his friends; as a mother who works 60+ hours a week, I just can’t do it.

What would you do??

child, Education, gifted and talented, kid, mom, mommy, mother, motherhood, Mothering, public school, smart kid, Washington DC

I love reading Susan Palwick’s writings, on faith, healing, and science fiction, among other things. Every month she does a Carnival of Hope on her blog, Rickety Contrivances of Doing Good.

Absolutely worth a read. I’m still amazed that one writer’s kid survived a fall from an upper story window. *shudder*

Be hopeful, everyone. And while you’re at it, you can check out Susan’s latest collection of short stories, The Fate of Mice:

while you’re waiting for this to be released in June:

Announcements, Carnival of Hope, Fate of Mice, mom, mommy, mother, motherhood, Mothering, Shelter, Susan Palwick

My son suddenly latched onto a baby doll yesterday. We’ve had some sort of doll around the room for him to play with since he was a little baby, but for some reason, this little thing was just what he wanted yesterday. He dressed her, he kissed her, he rocked her and patted her. He dragged her around by the neck and forgot about her. And when it came time for bed, he tucked her into his bed and then exclaimed, “Oh, I forgot her milk!” and ran all the way downstairs to fetch a thoroughly pretend bottle of milk (we don’t have any play bottles of milk, you see).

She sat in his lap while we read stories, and he made her laugh.

So nice to see. I don’t know any men who would cringe at the thought of a boy playing with a doll, not at this young age. I’m glad to see that stereotype has changed. My only thought for the evening is to provide a wide range of toys to encourage a young child’s imagination, and not limit yourself or the little one by too much of one ‘type’ of toy or another.

Tonight, I’m going to sew snaps on the little baby carrier that came with the doll, since the velcro just doesn’t cut it. He wants to be able to wear the baby like his mama wore him, like all his mama friends do. I think he’ll make a fine papa when his time comes. Just please, don’t let it come too soon.

At play, boys, dolls, gender bias, gender specific toys, girls, mom, motherhood, Mothering, mothers, trucks