Party Like a Momstar

Yesterday was my friend's birthday.  As we sat around a plastic corner table underneath the harsh fluorescent lighting, Happy Meals strewn about, amid shouts about apple juice ownership (no, you can't have all three juice boxes) and arguments over whether or not the barbecue sauce in itself was enough food for lunch (what if it's licked off the McNuggets, Mom, does that count?), it had never been more drastically clear how much life has changed.

This was a birthday party?  Not to say it wasn't fun.  I had a blast and so did my babies.  Everyone was moderately well-behaved, and one place you'll never have to defend yourself as a mom of two year olds is a McDonald's.  We won all around.  Still, it was a far cry from closing the bar at 2 a.m. after free birthday shots all night.  It was a far cry from hopping from club to club, dancing the night away.  It was a far cry from collapsing at 5 a.m. to a house full of empty beer bottles and rowdy friends.  It was a far cry from the birthdays of my young adulthood.

To be honest, I don't miss those birthday parties at all.  I didn't get many of them.  I only spent a few years single after college, and those years were enough.  I remember joking with a friend of mine once after all the bars had closed and we'd gone to an apartment after-party, "We've found the after, where's the party?"

Well, former self, the party was at McDonald's yesterday, with a couple of toddlers.  While there are many differences between a young adult definition of party and a child's definition of party, I really believe (now, after having children) that the adult version is simply an unsuccessful attempt to bring back the joviality and pure fun of a child's party.  Adults have so much more to escape, they need so much more to loosen up and allow themselves to have a good time, they feel as if they are lacking in so many more ways.  All of these factors veiled just behind the adult-party curtain stop the fun short of that which my toddlers experienced bungling around in the McDonald's playscape.

After unknowingly searching for years for the elusive party of happiness, I've found it in the most unlikely place -- an afternoon trip to McDonald's with the babies.  I'll never get back the innocent child-like happiness at the surprise nickel-toy in a Happy Meal, but being able to live through it with  my children has got to be the next best thing.

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Tricks of the Trade

One of the greatest joys of toddlerhood is their ability to see each fraction of each activity with new eyes and no preconceptions.  The innocence a toddler applies to every experience makes each part of that experience special and unique and just as important as every other part.  This can be a huge asset to a savvy parent.

Once, long ago, when the babies and I first went to the mall, I came up with a little game we could play on the ramps on the way to the Playland.  As we approached a ramp, I would look at the kids - one holding each hand - and say, "Ready?  Ready?"  If the ramp inclined, we'd rush up shouting, "Up up up up up up up whee!"  If it was declined, "Down down down down, whee!"  I didn't know it then, but I was setting myself up for long-term success.

For little children, lack of experience places emphasis on everything.  They don't yet know that the Playland is the main event and that everything else pales in comparison.  Since every segment of their life is a new adventure, every anticipated journey provides just as much joy as the last.  If we, as parents, continue to advertise what's coming up next as a new and profound experience, our toddlers will follow suit.  So that when the time came for us to leave the Playland, I no longer had to worry about the tantrums that plagued our walk back to the car the first few times.

"Okay, babies, it's time to leave."

"No, no."

"But the ramps are next.  Don't you want to play the ramp game?"

Yes, they did want to play the ramp game, and off we went.  When we ran out of ramps, of course, another tantrum threatened to break out, but we were at the doors.

"Look, girls!  Puddles!  Don't you want to play in the puddles?"

Yes, they did want to play in the puddles, and off we went.  Getting into the car?  Another possible battle.

"Look, babies!  Rocks!  Pick a rock to take home with you!"

And they picked a rock and off we went.  When we arrived home - home, of course, being a place where they know there's nothing quite as fun and new as what they just experienced - I offered them handwashing in a bathroom they don't normally get to use.  Inside we went.  Then I was able to appeal to their physical needs and offered them water because they were thirsty and a video to watch because they were tired.

In this way, we had a tantrumless transition from Playland to home.

Now, I'd love to take credit for the idea, but, the truth is, it never would have worked if toddler minds were not so open, so trusting and so excitable.  It's important never to forget that the things we adults take for granted as being boring, or being just part of the journey to get to the fun, a toddler will find new and exciting - if we let them.

Parent Your Kid

Have you ever stared down an 18 month old that you've never seen before in your life?  We went to the mall again this weekend.  Playland on a Sunday afternoon; every parent's worst nightmare.

The babies were playing on the slide.

I was standing right there because I'm simply not comfortable sitting all the way over on the side on the adult benches.  I think they are just too far away, and, in this instance, I was right.

A little girl, just two-thirds the height of my kids, walked right up to Dulce, and shoved her.  Dulce looked up at me - shocked - looked back at the little girl - wide-eyed - and back at me again.  By this time, I was on my knees, my arms around my baby, staring at the strange girl.  We locked eyes.

"Don't hit my kid," I said calmly but with a bit of grit, talking to a baby as if she were an adult.  "Don't ever hit my kid."

The strange girl was still looking at me when Dulce decided to tentatively push her back - a weak, ineffectual pat, that, nevertheless, forced me into action.

"Dulce, don't push her.  There is no pushing.  Ever."

At this point, there is a baby stalemate, and so I switch tactics.

"Can you give her a hug?  Let's hug."

The two babies are hugging with great affection by the time the other mother has gotten off the adult bench to take care of her kid.

"Tell her you're sorry," said the other mother.  The baby just looked at her.

"They've already hugged and made up," I said.  "It's okay."  What I meant, of course, was parent your kid so I don't have to parent her for you.

As the babies and I are leaving Playland, I see this girl push and topple over a little boy, and I laughed.  Bullying at 18 months; I couldn't believe it.

The moral of this story?  Always watch your kids closely.  If they're not pushing someone, they're being pushed, and if they're not pushing or being pushed, they're seeing it happen around them.  If we, as parents, don't step in and tell them what behavior is not acceptable, they'll never know.  Parent your kids, and everybody wins.

Mall Madness

Mob Mentality: large numbers of people acting in the same ways at the same times. Often blamed for concert riots, car burnings, tramplings, and other explosive actions for which no coherent thought process can be discerned. It’s a phenomenon that spreads across ethnicity, location, background, and, of course, age.


I brought my two-year-old twins to the mall yesterday. It was the third time they’d ever been to a playland, and they’re beginning to feel at home in those surroundings – a result that I expected, but not one that I particularly like.

The Babies at Playland

The mall Playland can be a nightmarish place. People, when allowed to lose their inhibitions, when allowed to disappear into a crowd, can allow unacceptable actions to become acceptable. If it’s spring weekend at your college and you’re 19, this could mean flipping a car, or passing out drunk in the street. If it’s the seventh game of the World Series, and the Red Sox have just won, and you’re 30, this could mean taking to the alleys of Boston and yelling your fool head off in an impromptu jubilee. If you’re at the mall Playland and you’re two, this means throwing your shoes, pulling someone’s hair and screaming at the top of your lungs. When you’re two, however, it’s very difficult to understand that certain actions are only acceptable sometimes, and other actions are never acceptable, even if someone else is doing it.

The first time we went to Playland, it was a Sunday afternoon. The place was mobbed. My girls are small. They are polite. They are quiet. They walk places; they don’t run. They were bullied. Knocked down. Poked at. Kids running everywhere (many far too big to be using the playground setup), flailing about, letting loose, having fun. As a group of five year olds ran past them shrilly shrieking, I saw them startle like an infant would at a loudish sound – they raised their little hands up and opened wide their eyes and everything. It was very sad.

The second time we visited the Playland, the babies felt a little more comfortable, not only because they’d seen it before, but also because it was a Tuesday morning, and the Playland population was halved. They explored, learned how to climb and slide, played with each other, and noticed other kids. When it was time to leave, I had to drag two embarrassingly tantruming toddlers all the way back across the mall, through the parking lot and into the car. I could see that since I introduced a place for typical toddlers into their lives, I was now going to have to better prepare for a typical toddler response. Gone are the days of calmly leaving an area when mommy asks you to leave.

By the third time, they were pros. They ran and jumped and played and screamed. They worked themselves up into a frenzy that would put the biggest eight year old in there to shame. The mob mentality, they had learned, is fun. And isn’t that why anyone allows themselves to get carried away? So, really, these forced areas of play meant to reign in somewhat obnoxious behavior by setting it all in a distinct location away from your everyday life are actually encouraging that behavior, and, to take it a step further, are introducing - are inventing – that behavior.

We all say kids will be kids, but after visiting that Playland, I’m forced to wonder are we simply allowing a child’s nature space to run free in places like that, or are we introducing behavior that might otherwise have been alien to them? Are we, perhaps, encouraging mob mentality in our youth before they are old enough even to process cause and effect? Is the solution actually the problem?

All this being said, I’ll not be that stick-in-the-mud mom. That Playland surely hasn’t seen the last of us.