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One Father’s Day, my sister and I decided to make our dad a cheesecake. Back then, there was no internet (like, seriously.) We could not just hop onto Google and locate a fantastic recipe. The only recipe we had for a cheesecake was on the back of a Cheerios box.

We had gotten up early that Sunday morning to try and make the cake before my dad got out of bed. We were in the process of blending the ingredients together in a large bowl with the egg beater when he suddenly walked out in nothing but his underwear. We both screamed and covered our eyes. Unfortunately, when Jodi went to shield her eyes from the searing image of him in his underwear, she ducked her head, and her long hair immediately got caught in the egg beater. She really let out a holler then, as the egg beater swiftly spun, grabbing her hair and pulling her head toward the bowl of cheesiness. The egg beater couldn’t handle it. It let out a groan, and died.

My dad spent the next tedious hour trying to untangle Jodi’s hair from the the egg beater. And perhaps because we were so young and stupid, we actually decided to finish making the cheesecake. After carefully removing all the hair from it (um…ugh!), we made the crust and finished baking it. Unfortunately, despite our best efforts, it was a disaster. Aside from the fact that the cheesecake had been adorned with my sister’s hair, the crust (made out of cheerios) was bland, and three times thicker than the actually cake.

The following blog entry is pulled from the first chapter of my dissertation:

Educators, employers, and other members of society are facing a major challenge: How to manage a new crop of young people called the millennial generation. Born approximately between the early 1980s and the early 2000s (the years themselves are debated by many), this generation is considered by many to be the most entitled generation in our nation’s history. Employers report that these individuals enter the workforce expecting to be promoted within the same year. College professors report these individuals expect high grades on their papers without putting in the effort. San Francisco Chronicles columnist Joan Ryan wrote, “We’re (parents) told we will produce a generation of coddled, center-of-the-universe adults who will expect the world to be as delighted in them as we are. And even as we laugh at their knock-knock jokes and exclaim over the refrigerator drawings, we secretly fear the same thing (1998).”

The expectations of the individuals belonging to the millennial generation are optimistic. Most of them expect to go to college and make lots of money. Many of them even expect to be famous. Unfortunately, this generation is entering a world where college admissions and good jobs are very competitive, and the cost of housing, healthcare, and most other goods and services have increased substantially. According to the Roper Youth Report, “the gap between what they have and what they want has never been greater (Tapscott, 1998).”

The sense of entitlement prevalent in the millennial generation is fueled by parenting practices in the home. It has become a widespread notion that many of the millennials were lavishly praised and overindulged by their parents. Their parents made efforts to avoid criticism, even constructive criticism, in order to avoid damaging their self-esteem. Their parents have placed a high premium on success, filling résumés with not only academic achievements, but also sports and other extracurricular activities. A TIME/CNN poll finds that 80% of people think kids today are more spoiled than kids of 10 or 15 years ago, and two-thirds of parents admit that their kids are spoiled (Gibbs, 2001). Gibbs (2001) writes,

In New York City it’s the Bar Mitzvah where ‘N Sync was the band; in Houston it’s a catered $20,000 pink-themed party for 50 seven-year-old girls who all wore mink coats, like their moms. In Morton Grove, Ill., it’s grade school teachers handing out candy and yo-yos on Fridays to kids who actually managed to obey the rules that week. Go to the mall or a concert or a restaurant and you can find them in the wild, the kids who have never been told no, whose sense of power and entitlement leaves onlookers breathless, the sand-kicking, foot-stomping, arm-twisting, wheedling, whining despots whose parents presumably deserve the company of the monsters they, after all, created.

 The millennial generation is a fairly novel concept in the scientific community. When it comes to well-defined, clearly documented research that examines how parental techniques influence the attitudes of the millennial generation, there is a gap in the research. Although sense of entitlement in the millennial generation has been explored by some researchers, little research has been done on what the parents of these individuals are doing that may be leading to these feelings of entitlement. This research has implications for parents, and what they do to change the way they interact with their children.

Okay, so I left ALOT out, but some of it gets pretty technical. That was just some bits and pieces just to provide a general idea of my dissertation topic, and why I have been neglecting this blog.

This is Shelby’s new potty. I am not really ready to potty train her yet. She is still a month away from her second birthday, and I was planning on procrastinating a little, just like I do with homework…I mean, after potty training three other kids, I am not in any rush to go through that hell again! Especially since I still don’t know what the heck I am doing. I should be a pro at this by now, but I am still as lost as I was with the first child. I guess I don’t worry too much about these sorta things anyway. It’s not like people are still wearing pull-ups when they are walking towards the altar on their wedding day.

However, my husband Jeremy REALLY really believes she is ready. So he bought her this new potty and about a dozen pairs of underwear.

Day One: Jeremy brings the potty chair in and we explain to her what she is supposed to do with it. I put her in her new underwear. She spends about two hours playing with the potty, but no…umm…results. She ends up peeing on my bar-stool and on the kitchen floor. I mop it up.

Day Two: Shelby wakes up in the morning, and I promptly put her in her underwear, and tell her to let me know when she has to use the potty. Shelby removes the toilet seat and wears it as a hat. I finally get her to sit on it for about a half hour while watching Sponge Bob. Nothing. I put her in a pull-up for her nap. After her nap, she goes back into her underwear. She fills up the toilet with Pokemon cards. I am working on my dissertation, and trying to transition from writing qualitative research to saying statements like, “Go pee pee and poo poo in the potty, ‘kay Shelbs?” Shelby pulls her undies off and pees on my coffee table.

And that’s it so far. Wish me luck!

This is a picture of my twin sister and me taken approximately 30 years ago. Don’t ask me to tell you which one is which! I think I am the cuter one. When we came home from the hospital, we wore bracelets so my mom could tell us apart. Since I was born first (8 minutes before my sister), I was baby “A” and she was baby “B.”

Normally, I write a memory on Fridays (“normally” meaning two WHOLE times so far). I was thinking though…almost all of my memories include my sister. Whether we were playing, fighting, eating, sleeping, doing chores, getting into trouble…she was always there. So before I proceeded with any further “Flashback Fridays,” I wanted to point out that…well…she will probably be in some all of them.

Here is a recent picture of my sis and I:

Sorry about the poor quality of the above baby picture. I actually took a picture OF the picture. Lame, right? I do have a scanner somewhere in my house, but I don’t know how to use the damn thing. Just as a little side note, I REALLY suck at computer stuff. Even creating this blog site was excruciating, even though I have kept it VERY BASIC.

I got a little sidetracked. Basically my “Flashback Friday” consists of one fuzzy, lame baby picture.

Here is a status update I would LOVE to see on facebook:

Jane…sitting on the couch with a carton of ice cream watching “Maury.” This one hootchy mama has been on SEVEN times to find her baby’s daddy. DAAAMN!!! Girl shoulda kept her legs closed!

You know why I will never see a status update like this (other than the fact that it is semi-raunchy)? Because everyone has to post how BUSY they are. Nobody ever wants to admit they are sitting there relaxin’. You see, being busy is a symbol of status in our country. If you aren’t busy, than you must not be important.

Which may be why mothers across the nation our OUTRAGED over the results of a recent study. You see, Robinson, a 74-year-old sociologist at the University of Maryland, has determined that mothers have 30-40 hours of leisure time a week. Robinson, however, does not discriminate. He has actually determined that pretty much everyone has 30-40 hours of leisure time each week. However, the mommies are indignant and furious about this. How could they POSSIBLY have 30-40 hours of leisure time a week, in between feedings, changings, domestic responsibilities, children’s extracurricular activities, husband’s demands, etc. etc. frickin’ ETCETERA?!

Here is the thing. Robinson’s research is sound (and I may get crucified for stating that). He had numerous moms journal for weeks how they spent their time, and he was fairly meticulous regarding his research. I think the problem may be how Robertson defines “leisure” time. Under his definition, if you are waiting for a tow truck, this is “leisure” time. If you are freezing your ass off during your son’s soccer game, this is “leisure” time. If you have five minute breaks in between feedings, diaper changing, etc, and you get these five minute breaks a dozen times in one day, this counts as an hour of “leisure” time.  He even counts a root canal as “leisure” time. And sorry, but even if sex feels like a chore, it still counts as leisure time!

Under Robertson’s definition, I DO believe that mommies have 30-40 hours of “leisure” time a week. I mean hell, based on the sheer volume of mommy blogs out there, they must have SOME free time, right? However, I don’t believe the free time they have feels very LEISURELY. For example, I know I have free time. But it is also DISTRACTED time. It is not a solid two hours here, one hour there, a half hour here. It is broken up in unpredictable increments, to be interrupted at any time by crying, fighting, broken objects, spills,  and general neediness. The fact that I could get interrupted at any time makes it difficult to feel truly relaxed. Or as Terasa Strasser  puts it, “…if my head was in the guillotine, technically, I would have to log that two minutes before my execution as “free time,” yet it wouldn’t seem that relaxing.”

However, I think  mommies need to give this poor Robertson guy a break. If one were to step out of their need to feel “busy” for a minute, they could see what Robertson is trying to accomplish. He believes that our nation has become SO QUICK PACED, and so swept up with having to feel productive, we have forgotten how to just enjoy the simpler things in life.

And there is actually a valid point here. While some moms are legitimately busy (think working mom trying to pay the bills and still spend quality time with kids), some moms create their own “busy” work load. On facebook last week, one SAHM was complaining about how “busy” she was, than proceeded to discuss all the PTA activities and classroom volunteering she was doing. While I admire her involvement with her kid’s school, I wanted to tell her, “If you are gonna VOLUNTEER for these activities, don’t complain about how BUSY you are!” Some moms overschedule their kids with too many extracurricular activities and complain how busy they are, forgetting that all these activities are OPTIONAL. Other moms really do stay busy doing housework all day, but this is because they are obsessively meticulous about the cleanliness of their house. Oh, and what I like the best: The moms who post on facebook all day long how they can’t keep up with their lives…and these posts are nestled between their Farmville, Society World, Aquarium Galaxy and Cafe Universe  score updates (okay, I don’t know the real names of these games).

Despite Robertson’s questionable defining of “leisure time,” I still think his message is a good one: The 30-40 hours of time are out there…they exist…you just have to figure out how to grab them and USE them!  Stop and smell the roses once in a while…

For more information on his study, please visit The Washington Post.

I have to end this now because…well…I am really busy.

Recently, I took up some temporary work  to make a little extra $$$ (money has been tight lately). On my personal blog, I wrote about how difficult it was trying to catch up on my sleep after working a 12 hour graveyard shift. My toddler kept jumping on me and saying “good morning!” (And all I was thinking was “good NIGHT! PLEEEASE!”) At one point, I became so desperate just to close my eyes for a half hour, I handed her a jar of peanut butter with a spoon. My sister jokingly made a “parenting 101″ comment that got me thinking of other things I have done to try and keep my kids occupied when I am desperate:

• Set my one year old on a barstool in front of the kitchen sink and left the water on at a trickle for 40 minutes so I could complete my homework. And yes, I DO feel bad about wasting water!
• Given my toddler a tube of chapstick (even though I knew she would probably eat it) so I could get ready for work. It was cherry flavored. (Not sure why that matters).
• Handed over my toothbrush to the baby–just please STOP crying already! And please don’t dip my toothbrush in the toilet!
• Thrown the little kids in the bathtub and let them dump water on each other’s heads until the bathtub started leaking into my son’s closet (and I sat on the toilet with my laptop doing schoolwork. At least until the tub started leaking).
• Let my daughter put dozens of rubber bands in my hair so I could sleep.
• Let my daughter apply powdered blush on my feet because I was half asleep.
• Handed the kids the garden hose and let them douse each other. (I am starting to realize a pattern of water waste here).
• Handed my baby a bag of potatoes to play with so I could finish a phone conversation.
• Allowed my daughter to color my toenails with a marker.
• And many many more…but I am tired of writing now!

This post appeared on my facebook wall last week (please excuse the awkward wording, as I am pasting the post exactly as it appeared!)

M… is taking the boys, tonight, to have professional pictures done. Mainly of G. but I do want a brothers picture. Please pray that all 3 boys behave for the pictures and we get some good ones.

Following this post were several “I’ll pray for you!” comments. I am not a biblical expert or even a avid church attendee. However, I do suspect that God is a BUSY individual, and I suspect he has bigger things to worry about than whether one’s children behave for a frickin’ picture. So in response to this, I am posting a list of things I would pray for WAY before I would EVER pray for well behaved children on picture day. Here it is:

1) A knock on the door from The Publishing Clearing House.

2) A fire, flood, lightning strike, or other natural disaster directed at “Direct Loans” that would permanently damage all paper and electronic records of my student loans.

3) The peaceful and painless death of an obscure relative with no other living family members on his will except me (and my sister!)

4) A horse. And the sudden zoning of horses in my neighborhood. And a stable for the horse. Oh, and a five year supply of food for the horse. And a large piece of property for the horse. And someone to take care of the horse (I just want to ride it, okay?)

5) A live-in nanny. One who can teach my kids Spanish since we live in California.

6) Sunny weather. All the time. And a nice tan. All the time. And a bootylicious ass. You know, to go with the nice tan.

7) An infinite supply of homemade tacos. That I don’t have to cook.

My own pet store. I don’t care whether I actually sell anything–I just want to play with all the animals.

9) Socks that never get lost.

10) A hula hoop. (Because I would even pray for THAT before I would pray that kids behave for a stupid picture).

I have been neglecting this blog a bit for the last several days. My college professors must have held a secret meeting where they unanimously agreed us students were not quite stressed enough, so they are now burying us with toppling piles of projects. Included in this is chapter one and two of my dissertation (approximately 60 pages), which must be completed by the end of April.

I was doing dissertation research, and I was looking up “overindulgence.” I stumbled upon a website that I am adding to this blog’s sidebar because I think it is great! It is a website for parents who think children’s birthday parties have become too extravagant, and the site is called Birthdays Without Pressure.  Below, I have listed some real life examples of over-the-top kiddie parties (courtesy of above website and Telegraph.co.uk):

At a party for a one-year-old attended by 60 guests, the present-opening took two hours and the (one year old) host slept through most of it.

A Chicago party invitation requests gifts worth at least $35.  The mother explains that last year her child received some gifts worth only $10, which did not even cover her costs.

At a seventh birthday party, the small guests were picked up by stretch limos. A six-year-old guest leaving another party without a party bag was heard to complain that it was a “rip off”.

 David Brooks spent $10 million on his 13-year-old daughter’s party, which included performances by the rock group Aerosmith and the rapper 50 Cent, together with $10,000 worth of party bags for the teenage guests.

In New York, a designer sweet shop called Dylan’s Candy Bar charges $1,200 for a 90-minute party for 20 young children. But that is a bargain compared with a sleepover party at the city’s most famous toy store, FAO Schwartz, where prices start at $25,000.

Wow. And I thought my daughter’s last birthday was pretty cool because my husband put a $15 bubble blowing thingy on our deck.

“Helicopter parent is a colloquial, early 21st-century term for a parent who pays extremely close attention to his or her child’s or children’s experiences and problems, particularly at educational institutions”.–Wikipedia

Below I have listed two examples of “helicopter parenting.” The first example, in my opinion, is also an example of amazing parenting. The second example is…well…it will speak for itself.

The Good Helicopter Parent

I was watching “Mystery Diagnosis” last night, and saw this story: Colon’s parents were mystified when he went from just over a 100 lbs to 280 lbs in just a few years (from elementary school to junior high). They took him to doctor after doctor, trying to figure out why he was gaining so much weight so rapidly. They were feeding him healthy meals, and making sure they did not keep fattening food items in the house. What they didn’t realize is that Conor had an insatiable appetite, and he was using his allowance to buy food. When he ran out of money, he would forage through dumpsters for food. He was filled with too much shame to tell his parents.

Conor was finally diagnosed with Prader-Willi syndrome, a genetic disease caused by a chromosomal flaw. This disease affects the hypothalamus — the part of the brain that controls desires. Essentially, people with this condition never feel full or even satisfied. They feel perpetually hungry, ALL the time. Not just mildly hungry, but extremely hungry. There is no cure or treatment for this condition. Basically, food has to be locked up and kept away from the individual with this condition. Doctors told Conor’s parents that Conor could NOT control himself around food, and he could literally eat so much in one sitting that his stomach could burst. Not to mention the increase risks for diabetes, heart failure, and all the other health risks of obesity. He had to be monitored at all times.

So Conor’s parents did just that. They quit giving him money, and they locked up all of the food. They watched him constantly. And he dropped from 280 lbs down to 140 lbs, which was normal for his height. However, when Conor graduated high school, they faced a new dilemma: What now? There are structured group homes where individuals with this condition can reside to make sure they don’t “eat themselves to death.” however, Conor wanted to go to college.

So guess what they did? Conor’s dad attended EVERY college class with Conor. Sometimes he would sit in the classroom, and other times, he would sit patiently outside, right by the door. For four years, he monitored Conor’s food intake to ensure he did not overeat. He sacrificed his own interests for FOUR years, so his son could get a college education. I find this absolutely remarkable.

The Bad Helicopter Parent

I won’t say much about this, except I find this absolutely repulsive! I am hoping this was posted as a prank. If not, someone needs to call CPS on this woman!