Courageous Parents, Confident Kids

The book I recently wrote a chapter for—Courageous Parents, Confident Kids: Letting Go So You Both Can Grow—will be published on April 19. Editor Amy Tiemann, the brains behind this project, just revealed the cover, which I'm sharing at left.

A paperback edition will be sold through Amazon, and for a limited time the book will be available via a free "e-book."

If you'd like to be included in the free e-book distribution, register with Real Life Support for Moms by sending a "Sign Me Up!" email to CP [at] LifeSupportForMoms.com. (I'm not printing the actual @ address to protect against spammers.) I'll email you a link to Courageous Parents, Confident Kids as soon as the book is released.

Here's an overview of what's in the book:

Introduction by the Editor, Amy Tiemann, Ph.D., author of Mojo Mom: Nurturing Your Self While Raising a Family.

Part 1: The Courage to Invest in Your Own Development

The Transformative Power of Self-care by Renee Peterson Trudeau, life coach and author of The Mother's Guide to Self-Renewal.

Tools for Career Reinvention by Kella Hatcher and Maryanne Perrin, founders of Balancing Professionals.

Part 2: Developing Your Own Courageous Parenting Style

The Courage to Let Our Kids Solve Their Own Problems by Maya Frost, international lifestyle design expert and author of The New Global Student.

The Courage to Become Your Own Parenting “Expert” by Melissa Stanton, author of The Stay-at-Home Survival Guide. Visit Melissa at www.RealLifeSupportForMoms.com

The Power of Personal Significance for Kids of All Ages by Amy McCready, parent educator and founder of Positive Parenting Solutions.

I’m Worried I Worry Too Much, But How Do I Stop? by Jamie Woolf, leadership expert and author of Mom-In-Chief.

Part 3: Real-world Safety Skills for All

Kidpower: Skills for Safety, Skills for Independence by Irene van der Zande, co-founder and Executive Director of Kidpower, Teenpower, Fullpower International.

How to Say Yes to Your Kids’ Online Activities by Linda Criddle, internet safety expert and creator of iLookBothWays.com

Part 4: Finding Your Voice and Raising It for the Community

Becoming a Political Parent: PunditMom on Mothers Raising Their Voices Online by Joanne Bamberger, journalist and PunditMom blogger.

Building a Family-friendly America: Challenge and Progress Through the Eyes of MomsRising.org by Kristin Rowe-Finkbeiner, co-founder and Executive Director of MomsRising.org

It Takes a Motherhood by Cooper Munroe and Emily McKhann, co-creators of the award-winning online community, TheMotherhood.com

In praise of Parmalat

It's Day 6 of managing Snowmageddon 1 and Snowmageddon 2 here in the Baltimore-Washington area. Before we lose power (we haven't yet at all, knock on wood), I figured I'd sing the praises of "shelf-stable" milk. We keep the Parmalat brand of shelf-stable milk in our pantry at all times, as a back-up supply of fresh milk. When your house is surrounded by three feet of snow as mine is now, Parmalat is a lifesaver. Well, that's an overstatement. Paramalat is a coffee, cereal and kid beverage saver. We're big into milk in my family. We average a gallon a day.

Shelf-stable milk is, and I'm quoting from the Parmalat carton, "Ultra Pasteurized ... 100% real cow's milk." It's packaged and sold in a "Tetra Pak container" (similar to a juice box) that "protects the milk from any external contamination." The unopened package can be stored at room temperature for up to six months. Once opened, the milk needs to be refrigerated and consumed within seven days. Shelf-stable milk isn't common here in the U.S., with our giant supermarkets and reliable residential and commercial refrigeration, but it's the milk of choice in remote and less developed places. I relied on it when I was in Bora Bora.

Although there are other manufacturers of shelf-stable milk (Borden's among them), the stores in my area carry only Parmalat. The milk comes in whole, 2 percent, 1 percent, fat-free, organic and even chocolate varieties. It's sold in either a one-quart carton or in a six-pack of individual serving cartons (again, similar to a juice box). The smaller size is great for a child's lunch box or for keeping in a diaper bag to fill a toddler's bottle. I love this stuff. It's super convenient and tasty. (It's a bit sweeter than traditional fresh milk.) The downside: Compared to fresh milk, Parmalat is pricey. A one-quart carton costs about $2.25.

I was surprised yesterday when my husband trudged in from a pre-storm (Part 2) excursion to the supermarket carrying a dozen cartons of Parmalat. While the dairy aisle in the store was a madhouse from the run on milk, no one was bothering with the Parmalat. It may be because people don't know about the wonders of shelf-stable milk, or they don't know where to find it in the store.

Tip: Parmalat is usually kept in the baking aisle. Oddly, it's usually not kept near the rice and soy milk products, which are also sold in shelf-stable packaging and are the milk of choice for people who can't or don't want to drink cow's milk.

A situation-specific benefit of Parmalat: Its sturdy, shelf-stable carton is probably tossable. If (when?) my neighbors and I become trapped by the snow and plow drifts, a Parmalat-equipped samaritan with a good arm could football throw cartons of the milk toward our houses. (Try doing that with a plastic gallon of milk.) Looking out my window, and seeing snow depths that would bury my seven-year-old twins to their eyeballs, I might just get to see how well a carton of Parmalat can fly.

10 simple pleasures of returning to the workforce

After several years of stay-at-home motherhood and work-from-home freelancing I recently returned to the full-time, office-based workforce. (Hence my absence from posting on this site.) So far so good, at the job and on the home front. My three children are school-age now, and unlike in my past career, when leaving the office at 6 p.m. was considered skipping out early, my new job allows me to get home at a decent time.

Having been out of the traditional workforce, I'm finding joy in many aspects of work life I took for granted before I "stopped working" (yeah, right) in order to care for children. I'm listing my newfound pleasures here—while they're still a novelty and I'm appreciative and not jaded, exhausted or burned out from working 9 to 5.

1) The very nice building I work in has a very nice cafeteria. It's such a treat to eat lunch without having to shop for the groceries, prepare food for myself and other people, clean the kitchen, and do it all again 20 minutes later when someone decides he or she is still hungry, thirsty, bored ...

2) I can use the bathroom without someone walking in on me, screaming for me, or picking a fight with a sibling because I'm temporarily out of sight.

3) I enjoy having to get properly dressed in the morning. (Yes, I know a stay-at-home mom and work-from-home person can, and probably should, get herself properly dressed even if she's spending the entire day at home. But since I wasn't being seen much by the outside world, I didn't want to spend money on clothes for me. I also worried about ruining the few nice outfits I had that still fit.)

4) I'm able to concentrate on work without near constant interruptions.

5) I can have uninterupted conversations with adults.

6) I like being able to spend time in a city (I work in Washington D.C.) as well as in the suburban, rurally beautiful (but sometimes isolating) area where I live.

7) When I commute by car, I appreciate the freedom to listen to my radio station. When I commute by train, I appreciate how public transportation frees me from my minivan and provides me with an efficient workout. (Climbing Metro station stairs and escalators while wearing a winter coat and carrying a heavy purse is exercise.)

8) I find that by having structure and variety to my day (i.e. work and home, not just all home, all the time), I'm tons more efficient.

9) Instead of my children and I being at each others' throats by evening, they're happy to see me when I arrive home and I look forward to spending time with them.

10) In this economy, I'm very thankful to have found a job. And after working so hard, for so many years, with little to no monetary recognition, it's really nice to receive a regular paycheck again.

A decade of change

I was recently describing to my 11-year-old son how, when I was pregnant with him, I rented a pair of pagers so if I went into labor and wasn't with my husband or couldn't reach him by phone, I could page him.

Of course if I were in such a situation today (won't be, but if ...) I'd just call my husband's cell phone, or email him, or send him a text, or I'd reach out to one of the dozens of other people I could contact in a split second to hunt him down or come by and help me.

Communications technology and daily life has changed so much in a decade. (Do people even use pagers anymore? Would a child today actually know how to use a rotary telephone?) In 2000, when the magazine I worked for set me up so I could log into the office from home on nights and weekends, it was a two-day undertaking that involved DSL lines, unreliable connections and lots of oversized computer equipment. Seven years later I wrote a book while sitting in a rural Maryland coffee shop with my laptop and a wireless modem.

The attached list, 50 Things That Changed Our Lives in the Aughts, was compiled by Jocelyn Noveck of The Associated Press. It's an interesting recap of the decade's technical and cultural advances (and regressions?), such as blogs, Facebook, GPS, Wikipedia, Twitter, YouTube, iPods, Apps, Reality TV. Most of the list can be shared with your kids.

"Why can't boys be doctors?"

When I write my family's annual holiday card letter, I'm writing for two audiences. The first consists of our far-flung friends and family, the people we no longer get to see on a regular basis. The second group is composed of my three children—or, rather, my children's future selves. My hope is that my yearly recaps will help them remember their childhoods and our lives together.

I can't fit the following tidbit into the letter (I keep my year-in-reviews to one page), but I think it's something readers here will appreciate, especially if they have a daughter.

Earlier this year, the elder of my seven-year-old twins (i.e. the one who is at varying times age 17 or 37) asked me, "Why can't boys be doctors?"

As I responded that "boys" could in fact be doctors, and reminded her of some of the male doctors we knew, I realized that all of her doctors—her pediatrician, dentist, orthodontist—are women.

When I explained that there was a time when all doctors were men, and that women weren't allowed to go to medical school, she exclaimed, "What!? Are you kidding me?"

What was once the norm (men as doctors, women not) made no sense to her, just as it wasn't making sense to her that boys, because they are boys, might be prohibited from becoming doctors.

This daughter and I had a similar conversation during the presidential inauguration. She understood that George W. Bush was leaving as president and that Barack Obama was becoming the president, but she wanted to know when "the lady" was president. (She had seen Hillary Clinton on TV during the campaign and vaguely knew she had already lived in the White House.)

I replied that the United States has never had a female president. That answer of course led to the question, "Why not?"

After a lengthy discussion about the history of womanhood in America, Ms. Ava asked when our country would have a "girl president." I said I didn't know.

"It might not be until you're a grown-up," I answered. "In fact, it might be you."

She smiled.

Pictured, in a 2004 snapshot: A future commander-in-chief?

Just one hospital bill ...

I never take having health insurance for granted.

I volunteer at a health clinic where I routinely take phone calls from uninsured people canceling their appointments because, as the date nears, they realize they won't have the cash on hand to pay for the office visit. (Even though patients are charged on a sliding scale based upon income, everyone needs to to pay something.)

I recall the hardship of not having health insurance as a child, when both my father and stepfather were laid off from their corporate jobs. Although my mother and stepmother both worked, neither received employer-sponsored insurance nor earned enough to pay for coverage on the open market.

I won't ever forget the years I had to pay for health insurance premiums from dollar one because although I worked, and my husband worked, we didn't have employer-subsidized group health insurance.

Earlier today I received an Explanation of Benefit Payments from my insurance company. I was again reminded of how fortunate my family is to have employer-sponsored health insurance (which we do through my husband's job)—and how disastrous it would be if we didn't.

My son had outpatient surgery a few weeks ago. The hospital costs for that procedure: $10,842.85.

Because our insurer has a "negotiated reimbursement" rate plan with the hospital, the "allowed amount" for my son's care is $1,503.

Because we've already met our family deductible and out-of-pocket maximum, I need to pay just $300 for the hospital services. The insurance company will reimburse the hospital for $1,203.

If we didn't have insurance, as many families don't, my husband and I would be staring at a $10,842.85 hospital bill for our son's surgery.

I don't fully understand why there's such a vast difference between what an insurance company is invoiced and what an uninsured individual is charged and required to pay. But I do understand how just one hospital bill, from one surgery, can catapult a family into spiraling debt.