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Disney's New Fantasyland. Ariel's Grotto

My last trip to Disney. Also without the kids!

Tomorrow morning, I leave for the Disney Social Media Moms conference.  A coveted ticket that I was honored, this year, to receive.

I could thank Disney for inviting me and my family to what promises to be a fantabulous weekend of conference, park, and perks.  I could thank them for the suitcase from American Tourister that I will never, ever NOT spy on the luggage carousel.  I could thank them for the sneak preview of Monsters Inc that I’ll be seeing on Saturday.  Or the room at the Contemporary Resort.  And I do thank them for all that.

But what I really want to thank them for, is letting me skip Mother’s Day.

I looked back over my Mother’s Day posts from years gone by.  There was Can I Have Mother’s Day Off?, and Mother’s Day: Thank God it’s Over.  And this year, over on the Mothers2Mothers Network, Hate Mothers Day? You’re Not Alone.

See a pattern here?

So that’s why I’m especially happy that this year, the Disney Social Media Moms conference (#DisneySMMoms to those in the know) is being held Mother’s Day weekend.  See, my kids decided not to join me at the conference.  (I know. Clearly they are insane) So I will be at the conference with my sister in law and niece.  (I am now solidified as The Favorite Aunt forever.) Which means that I get to skip Mother’s Day.

No faux sentiment.  No disappointment when it isn’t quite as special as I’d hoped.  No frustration when the kids whine because, well, they’re kids, no matter what day it is.  No Mother’s Day.

Plus, when I get home, it’ll still be – technically – Mother’s Day (well, Mother’s Night).  And since I’ll have been gone for four days, my kids will be excited to see me, and will greet me with hugs and genuine happiness to see me.

And that’s really all I ever wanted for Mother’s Day anyway.

 

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Image representing Sheryl Sandberg as depicted...

Image via CrunchBase

Sheryl Sandberg wants us to Lean In. Marissa Meyer wants us to come in (to the office, that is.). New York Magazine wants to reignite the Mommy Wars by re-branding them as being between those who lean out and those who lean in.

But the truth is, the distinction between leaning out or in, working in the home, from the home, at an office, virtually or not at all…it’s all moot. There is a whole new category of working woman: the digital housewife. (more…)

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A 3 week old swaddled infant

They used to sleep! -- Image via Wikipedia

As I write this, it’s 10:15, and both of my 10 year olds are still awake.  Oh, they’re in bed.  Have been for 45 minutes.  But they’re up. Isn’t there a law, or something about this sort of thing?  Don’t my parental duties – legally speaking – have to end sometime around 9:30? (Barring blood, vomit, or a really, really bad dream, of course.)  I do believe that the parental bill of rights guarantees the mom and dad, after the infant phase is over – at least two hours of quality evening time during which the children sleep calmly in their beds, don’t wander into your bedroom, or call out for water, or another tuck in, or just have one more question they NEEEED to ask.  I read that when I signed on for this gig.  I’m sure  I did.  And if I didn’t – well I should have, and I’m going to petition the parental authorities for my right to at least one or two drama-less, pre-10pm bedtimes per week.  And what with all those conservatives taking over in the midterm elections, I’m sure I could get it passed.

I mean, there oughta be a law!

When my twins were newborns, I got them on a strict sleep schedule: 7:30 bedtime.  They kept that 7:30 bedtime until about second grade, when it became 8:00…and then 8:30 and then 9:00, until sometime during the first half of 5th grade, 10:00 was starting to be pretty normal, and anything earlier than that was a bonus.

How did that happen?

Homework is how.  And sports.  And playdates.  And then before I knew it, my alone time – my time with my husband and NOT my kids – had been reduced to a few glazed-over-after-fighting-about-bedtime minutes before we stumbled, beaten down and demoralized, into bed ourselves.

I’ve tried to take a stand.  I’ve threatened, and cajoled, and gotten into my own bed at 9:15 just to see what would happen.  And you know what happens?  Nothing.

I’m sure we’re just negligent parents.  I’m sure some other, better, parents would still have that 7:30 bedtime. Or at least 8:15.  I’m sure those other parents have children who never forget to put their clothes in the hamper, never have to be reminded to clear their place, and will undoubtedly win Nobel Prizes in physics, literature, and applied math before they’re thirty. But I’m also sure that I don’t know any of those parents…and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to.

The truth is,  kids get older and their bedtimes change. Perhaps we’ve changed too fast, but nothing – save parental exhaustion – lasts forever.  And exhaustion while…exhausting, kind of goes with the parenting territory. But like  Sacagewea,(who my daughter happens to be studying at the moment) I’m going to forge ahead, break new ground, liberate myself from the confines of my circumstances.

In other words, I’m giving up.  But I’m also starting a new rule: after 9:30 pm, I’m off duty. (with the blood/vomit/pestilence rule an exception)

Hey, if they’re old enough to stay up so late, they’re old enough to handle to rest of whatever happens post 9:30 themselves.

 

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