NY Times: It’s No Longer Necessary to Spend a Grand to Wipe Tushes
I was doing some back reading of articles I bookmarked last week & in my cue was a New York Times article, For Firstborns, Secondhand Fits the Bill. I had bookmarked it to read because I am looking for articles to give my students when school starts back up. I’m trying to find some that deal with how changes in the economy can cause other social changes.
In this article the focus is a supposed increase in frugal choices when shopping for kids. I know the NY Times has a pretty skewed audience, trending toward a higher income & higher educational level. I get there are differences in cultural understandings about money & necessity based on socio-economic class. But PULEEZE if this is what money & education gets us then we are totally screwed on lessons of sensible economics. For example as the article points out that parents who have it “together” have realized this stunning fact:
No longer is it necessary to buy a thousand-dollar changing table in order to prove your parental savvy and breadth of love; if anything, the opposite is true.
I’m not sure anyone in my classes will be able to relate, no matter their age or if they have kids. I know I can’t. Because really a grand?
Is this really a newsflash? I don’t know about anyone else, but I don’t think it was EVER necessary to buy a $1,000 changing table. Not unless your kid is going to create literal diamonds on it, which I’m pretty sure is impossible. Rainbows maybe, but diamonds nope. No diamonds then no grand is going to be dropped so I can wipe a tush.
Donut Lessons

You decide it will be fun to give your kids each 1 donut. You then learn the following:
- If you give each of your kids 1 donut they will each ask for a 2nd one.
- If you say no to another donut because 1 donut is plenty of sugary sweets for the day & you have 3 kids you then will hear 3 kids cry for another donut.
- 3 kids crying for more donuts sounds like 6 kids crying for more donuts.
- I’m not sure why it sounds double, perhaps it’s the power the donut has over them. Making them superhuman in their cries.
- You will then have regret over giving anyone any donuts or trying to do anything fun.
- You will promise yourself you’ll never do that again.
- That is until you forget & do it again.
It’s Not a Movie, I am Mom

Ever have one of those mornings where you wake up and suddenly remember you’re a Mom? Like somehow you forgot while sleeping that a house full of kids and laundry waiting to be put away awaited you? Today was that kind of day for me.
I was having a dream about being off traveling. It was a jet-set dream with dinners out, shopping, & I was wearing high heels. Then I felt someone shake me. I tried to ignore it but it wouldn’t stop, it was getting annoying. My heels were fading away so I peeked out of one eye & asked “What? Who’s there?”
It was Hubby. “I’ve got to go to work and take out the trash before I leave. He’s hungry.” I stared at him for a minute, groggy & wondering why I wasn’t in Paris anymore. I felt a look of confusion creeping across my face, my eyes squinting at him trying to see his face.
“Who’s hungry?” I asked. “Um, the baby. The baby’s hungry.” He looked amused at my confusion. “The baby’s hungry.” I repeated as if to confirm there was a baby. Hubby smiled. “Yes, the baby. I’ll get him up and bring him over to you. The other kids have breakfast so you don’t have to worry about that when you get up. I also will take the trash out.”
Other kids? For a second I felt like Goldie Hawn in that movie “Overboard” You know the high-quality film where Goldie gets amnesia after hitting her head & Kurt Russell essentially kidnaps her, makes her think she’s his wife, and has her care for his 4 wild boys. He does it because he’s upset with her treatment of him. She is rich, bitchy, & won’t pay him for the work he did on her yacht. In the end, she falls madly in love with him & totally forgives the creepiness of his lying about the whole being his wife, mother of his children thing, & his kidnapping her. It’s the stuff that long-lasting love is really made of.
Well this morning I thought maybe it was like that. Like I was Goldie and it was all a ploy. I was still supposed to be in my heels walking down a Paris street with shopping bags in hand. In my fantasy dreams I shop, alone. It’s my ultimate shopping fantasy no one peeking under doors, asking if I’m done yet, or throwing themselves down over having to go into one. more. store. It’s just me, everything fits, & I can afford whatever I try on.
Then it hits, other kids. I am fully awake & it hits me. My other kids. I have other kids, who I can hear downstairs fighting over what show they are going to watch for morning cartoons. And I have to feed the baby. I’m his food, my breasts are like the local 7/11 to him. Open 24 hours a day, ready to serve. Of course how could I forget?
“Oh, yah the other kids. I’ll be down when I’m done. Bring D-man here, I’ll feed him & change him.” I kissed Hubby & thanked him for taking out the trash.
I was back to reality. All before 8 am I fed D-man, changed him, got up, unloaded & reloaded the dishwasher, switched the laundry into the dryer from last night, picked up several toys that already made their way out, got more food for the other kids, broke up 3 “It’ mine! He’s looking at me! No, I want it!” scuffles & finally got myself a cup of coffee.
Although I still secretly wonder if Hubby isn’t pulling one over on me & this isn’t all ploy.

