A Christmas Poem by Mrs. Claus

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Mrs Clause looks great on Rodan + Fields

Christmas is coming and the goose is getting fat,

Your face is showing aging and I can help with that.

From sun spots to pore size to that one darn wrinkle

None wants a face that like wrapping will crinkle.

On Rodan and Fields its now time to spread

So great skin you see when you wake from your bed.

Santa may do the driving, like everyone knows

But its I, Mrs Clause who prepares all of those,

Great stockings I fill with age defying creams

To gift to you now the skin of your dreams.

Order right quick for time is a ticking

And now is the time to give wrinkles a licking.

My personal Elf will show you no quirks

of signing on up for the great PC Perks

Now order today ‘fore your times out of sight

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night

Rodan + Fields Works

Visit my website today to sign up for PC Perks and order your own skin care regiment that will give you skin of your dreams

“Its your skin, wear it well”

www.sarahdelbenson.myrandf.com

~Sarah

Sarah D Benson
Independent Consultant
Rodan + Fields Dermatologists
For products
http://www.sarahdelbenson.myrandf.com
For careers
http://www.sarahdelbenson.myrandf.biz

The Hero Daddy

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The Hero Daddy used to make me very angry. He would come home after a full days work at the office, and I a full days worth of in home war with two tiny toddlers.  I would be covered in peanut butter and jelly, a plethora of bodily fluids, and living in a sweat pants purgatory because nothing cute fit or because it  just wasn’t worth getting my one pair of jeans sticky.

And here he would come, Hero Daddy, swooping into the house in his clean clothes greeted by the sweet sound of tiny feet running and  little voices shouting “Daddy’s Home!”  When not two minutes ago those same tiny feet were trying to kick me in the face as I changed a diaper and the little voices were screeching things like “I don’t want to” and  “No Mommy” and just plain screaming.

Hero Daddy could all of the sudden make everything funny. All of the sudden when Hero Daddy tells you to eat your dinner its hysterical and a really fun game. When Mean Mommy asks you to its battle lines drawn. When Hero Daddy tells you its time to put on your pajamas its a laughable time filled with dancing while you jump into your jammies. When Mean Mommy tells you to put on your pajamas it really means its time to run away and throw your pjs into the dog kennel.

Hero Daddy

Mostly Hero Daddy made me angry because I wanted to be him. I wanted to be the one with whom the children laughed all evening long. I wanted to be the one to be able to solve tears with a joke and a playful threat of having to sleep in the chicken coop ( one of the children’s favorite). I didn’t want to feel like Mean Mommy all the time. The one who tells them to do everything and the one who seems to make them cry.

But then both girls finally started sleeping through the night, and it hit me, I’m not Mean Mommy I’m just Mommy. I am the one in the trenches every day with these little loves of mine and I am the one to enforce boundaries and do the disciplinary actions all day long. I am the one who tells them to eat every three minutes of every meal. I am the one who takes on the battle of what you can wear today and  how much TV you can watch and how far away you can run down the sidewalk and if you can eat those marshmallows you’ve just stolen out of the pantry.  But I’m also the one they call to in the middle of the night when they are sick or scared. I am the one they want to show their artwork to and the one whom they can ask to hang it on the fridge. I’m not Mean Mommy, I’m just Mommy and the more I realized that the more I loved Hero Daddy.

In truth, I have a Hero Daddy. My Mom was the everyday parent, the one I yelled at, fought with, laughed with, confided in and cried to. But my Hero Daddy was there every time I needed him to calm me down or make me laugh, teach me how to race a 400M or to sing harmony in a duet, take me out to ice cream before dinner and to make me feel like the most special little girl God ever created. And he still makes me feel like that.

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Every little girl deserves that. My little girls deserve that.

And Hero Daddy, with his clean clothes and loud dinosaur stomp as he chases them around throwing them into fits of hysterical laughter right before bedtime, does just that.  When he sneaks them cookies while I’m in the other room, makes jokes about stinky things and teases them out of a tear fest he really does make these two tiny girls feel like they hung the moon.

And as every child does, they deserve that feeling and will remember it for the rest of their lives.

Turns out, Mean Mommy and Hero Daddy make a pretty good team after all.

And it seems to be a pretty universal theme…

To quote Phil Dunphy from Modern Family “Let’s not play Good Cop/ Mom”

Mom Time vs Dad Time

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We have been parents for just over three years now. Parents of two for two years in two weeks. And in that time I’ve noticed a distinct difference in the amount of time it takes the Mom and the Dad to do things. Here are two of our most recent examples.

 Going on a Walk.

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Mom Time: One Hour

Pack snacks in individual snack things with no spill lids. Fill individual water bottles and put in wagon. Put shoes on both girls. Put socially acceptable clothes on me. Put shoes back on both girls. Put coats on girls. Put hair in ponytail and sunglasses on. Put shoes back on the little one. Shove extra pacifier into my pocket. Open door and encourage movement toward the wagon in the garage. Wait 7 minutes while they slowly amble to the door and make their way outside. Do not touch the little one to help in anyway or she will yell “no mommy help” and take an additional 3 minutes just to prove to you that she can do it.

Head out for the walk. Get as far as the mailboxes before tantrums, fighting and pleading to hold me mommy begins. Kick some rocks, find a slug, hit your sister and we head back home.

Dad Time: One Hour

Put coats on kids and big boots. Go outside for a walk.  Have a great time with our delightful children. Return one hour later and hand kids over to mom because they are hungry.

Going to a Christmas Party

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Mom Time: 3 hours

The party starts at 6 so take a shower at 3. Dry your hair while alternating blowing hot air at your children with the dryer to keep them entertained and out of your good makeup. Run after your 3 year old, while still in your towel, who has run off with your dress to partly be funny, partly be naughty and partly to dress like mommy, and hope the neighbors can’t see you. Feed the children big late snacks so that they aren’t too grumpy before we can eat at the party. Put the little ones dress on. Put your own dress on. Do your make up while singing “If You’re Happy and You Know It” and swatting little hands to keep said big snack off of your party dress. Put the older ones dress on. Make first attempt to do daughters hair. Do half of your own hair. Make second attempt to do daughters hair, be successful with one out of two. Finish your hair. Third and final attempt to do other daughters hair, be mostly successful. Put shoes on everyone. Get everyone into the car. Run back inside to grab a bottle, lipstick and take a final look the mirror only to discover you don’t like your party dress after all. Make a quick change and run to join your family in the car. Enjoy the party.

Dad Time: 28 Minutes

Party starts at 6 so work in the yard then fiddle in the garage. Tell the little one she looks pretty in her party dress. Shower at 5:18. Tell the other daughter she also looks pretty and that you like her hair.  Catch the end of the game. Get dressed and into the car. Wait for wife who is doing who knows what. Tell her she looks pretty too. Enjoy the party.

Disclaimer: I think mothers and fathers play distinct and different roles in the lives of our children. In no way do I expect my husband to be as sensitive and pack as many snacks as I do. And in return, he does not expect me to never pack diapers or to have the whole family actually ready for an event in 15 minutes.  We fulfill our unique rolls differently…and on different time tables.

Hey Parents, don’t dress your girls as tramps

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This first trimester has rocked my world, and not in the awesome sort of way. I have been more exausted than I ever remember being before and the morning sickness has been any time all day all week and even in the middle of the night sickness. Mercifully, this trimester is coming to a close and the sickness has subsided and sometimes I can stay awake until 9 at night, and thats a long way past 7:30.  So in an attempt to get back on my blogging feet here is one of my favorite old posts by LZ Ganderson.

An article worth sharing in my parenting opinion. This one is written by a father, LZ Granderson writes a weekly column for CNN.com. A senior writer and columnist for ESPN The Magazine and ESPN.com, he has contributed to ESPN’s “Sports Center,” “Outside the Lines” and “First Take. Here are his words about they way some people dress our little girls.

I saw someone at the airport the other day who really caught my eye.
Her beautiful, long blond hair was braided back a la Bo Derek in the movie “10” (or for the younger set, Christina Aguilera during her “Xtina” phase). Her lips were pink and shiny from the gloss, and her earrings dangled playfully from her lobes.
You can tell she had been vacationing somewhere warm, because you could see her deep tan around her midriff thanks to the halter top and the tight sweatpants that rested just a little low on her waist. The icing on the cake? The word “Juicy” was written on her backside.

Yeah, that 8-year-old girl was something to see alright. … I hope her parents are proud. Their daughter was the sexiest girl in the terminal, and she’s not even in middle school yet.

Abercrombie & Fitch came under fire this spring for introducing the “Ashley,” a push-up bra for girls who normally are too young to have anything to push up. Originally it was marketed for girls as young as 7, but after public outcry, it raised its intended audience to the wise old age of 12. I wonder how do people initiate a conversation in the office about the undeveloped chest of elementary school girls without someone nearby thinking they’re pedophiles?

What kind of PowerPoint presentation was shown to the Abercrombie executives that persuaded them to green light such a product?
That there was a demand to make little girls hot?

I mean, that is the purpose of a push-up bra, right? To enhance sex appeal by lifting up, pushing together and basically showcasing the wearer’s breasts. Now, thanks to AF Kids, girls don’t have to wait until high school to feel self-conscious about their, uhm, girls. They can start almost as soon as they’re potty trained. Maybe this fall the retailer should consider keeping a plastic surgeon on site for free consultations.

We’ve been here with Abercrombie before — if you recall, about 10 years ago they sold thongs for 10-year-olds — but they’re hardly alone in pitching inappropriate clothing to young girls. Four years ago the popular “Bratz” franchise introduced padded bras called “bralettes” for girls as young as six. That was also around the time the good folks at Wal-Mart rolled out a pair of pink panties in its junior department with the phrase “Who Needs Credit Cards” printed on the front.

I guess I’ve been out-of-the-loop and didn’t realize there’s been an ongoing stampede of 10-year-old girls driving to the mall with their tiny fists full of cash demanding sexier apparel.

What’s that you say? Ten-year-olds can’t drive? They don’t have money, either? Well, how else are they getting ahold of these push-up bras and whore-friendly panties?

Their parents?

Noooo, couldn’t be.

What adult who wants a daughter to grow up with high self-esteem would even consider purchasing such items? What parent is looking at their sweet, little girl thinking, “She would be perfect if she just had a little bit more up top.”

And then I remember the little girl at the airport. And the girls we’ve all seen at the mall. And the kiddie beauty pageants.
And then I realize as creepy as it is to think a store like Abercrombie is offering something like the “Ashley”, the fact remains that sex only sells because people are buying it. No successful retailer would consider introducing an item like a padded bikini top for kindergarteners if they didn’t think people would buy it.

If they didn’t think parents would buy it, which begs the question: What in the hell is wrong with us?

It’s easy to blast companies for introducing the sexy wear, but our ire really should be directed at the parents who think low rise jeans for a second grader is cute. They are the ones who are spending the money to fuel this budding trend. They are the ones who are suppose to decide what’s appropriate for their young children to wear, not executives looking to brew up controversy or turn a profit.

I get it, Rihanna’s really popular. But that’s a pretty weak reason for someone to dress their little girl like her.

I don’t care how popular Lil’ Wayne is, my son knows I would break both of his legs long before I would allow him to walk out of the house with his pants falling off his butt. Such a stance doesn’t always makes me popular — and the house does get tense from time to time — but I’m his father, not his friend.

Friends bow to peer pressure. Parents say, “No, and that’s the end of it.”

The way I see it, my son can go to therapy later if my strict rules have scarred him. But I have peace knowing he’ll be able to afford therapy as an adult because I didn’t allow him to wear or do whatever he wanted as a kid.

Maybe I’m a Tiger Dad.

Maybe I should mind my own business.

Or maybe I’m just a concerned parent worried about little girls like the one I saw at the airport.

In 2007, the American Psychological Association’s Task Force on the Sexualization of Girls issued a report linking early sexualization with three of the most common mental-health problems of girls and women: eating disorders, low self-esteem and depression. There’s nothing inherently wrong with parents wanting to appease their daughters by buying them the latest fashions. But is getting cool points today worth the harm dressing little girls like prostitutes could cause tomorrow?

A line needs to be drawn, but not by Abercrombie. Not by Britney Spears. And not by these little girls who don’t know better and desperately need their parents to be parents and not 40-year-old BFFs.

Roscoe the Wonder Dogs High Priced Diet

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When making reservations to board Roscoe the Wonder Dog while we were out of town last week, the kind gentleman who runs the place brought up an interesting question.

Roscoe the Wonder Puppy

“How often does he eat and how much?”

I feel like I’m supposed to reply with exactly what’s written on the dog food bag, “one cup twice a day”, but then I got to thinking, he might just starve on that kind of diet.

So instead, my inner monologue said this…

Roscoe eats a bowl full of his no grain high priced dog food in the morning a little while after the girls run in screaming “Roscoe’s awake” and he stretches and wags, says Good Morning then lays for another 20 minutes in my favorite chair.

Roscoe’s job here is done

Then he eats usually a full piece of toast thats be thrown directly at him.

Next he will eat any cereal or eggs that are on the floor and lick any and all yogurt off of any children’s tiny hands.

For lunch he likes grapes, carrots, bananas  and cheese that Hazel was trying to eat at the kids table.  He may also choose to drink from the bottle she has thrown to the ground or from any juice boxes that he can find.

Snack time is much the same at Lunchtime, he very much like raisins still in the tiny box, goldfish crackers, muffins or string cheese ( the plastic wrap being optional).

For Dinner, Roscoe will comfortably eat most any vegetable that is thrown at me, Daddy, or even himself. After this course he again will eat a full bowl of high priced no grain dog food.

For a before bedtime snack he likes cookies. Animal crackers and Oreos are his favorites, he doesn’t seem to have any natural aversion to chocolate.

Roscoe waiting for his lunch

Since, little hands have a penchant for dumping out his water dish he is very comfortable and skilled at drinking out of a toilet bowl and leaving lots of water on the floor.

Quickly though, before my inner monologue could spew truth and embarrassment all over the kind gentleman on the phone I simply said “yes, a bowl full twice a day will be fine”

When I picked up Roscoe the Wonder Dog yesterday, I was glad to see that he had not in fact starved to death, he’d simply lost some weight….

Nobody tell my Vet…Or my breeder, for that matter, Downs Lake Kennels.

Stuffed.

A conversation about Ice

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A conversation about ice with a 2 1/2 year old

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Georgia do you want ice water?

No. Yes. Just water.

Ok, so no ice?

Yes.

Yes ice?

No.

Ok. No ice.

Yes.

(filling up orange cup with water)

Mommy noooooo!

I’m putting water in your cup. You asked for just water.

No, Mommy. No ice.

So you want ice?

Yes. No.

So no ice.

No. and she starts to cry

So, water with no ice in your orange cup.

No. Yes.

Here is your water with no ice in your orange cup.

Thanks Mommy. Then she goes about her usual business of bossing around her little sister.

Motherhood can be so confusing…