End of the Year Thoughts: Charity

We've spent the last few weeks researching organizations to donate money before the tax year ends. As the children grow older, I want to volunteer on projects as a family. But now they're too young, and our hectic life with a toddler and a newborn means that we don't have spare time or energy to donate either. So our contributions are mainly financial this year.

First of all, we designated the issues that seemed most important to us. They included:
- world health
- alzheimer's research/care
- doing something about the genocide in Darfur
- environment
- education
- local arts

Once we determined those categories, the real work set in. Researching the organizations. I started with general google searches to create lists of organizations in the various fields. After looking at the various groups and their specific approaches, I then checked them out on third party charity rating websites.

For example, www.charitywatch.org gives charities a general rating. Charities that get high ratings have to spend more than 75% of their income directly towards programs, and spend $25 or less to raise $100. It's a good site if you want to do the minimal amount of work in checking out a charity. But it wasn't necessarily good enough for me. I wanted more detail - like how much money does go directly to programs, and what does the president get paid. I hate to think that my charity is making one guy wealthy, increasing the gap between classes. I dug deeper.

So I turned to www.charitynavigator.org, a website that not only rates the charities with a star system, but also breaks down the information specifically, including pie charts that show where the money goes and breakdowns of executive pay. This was super helpful, but not all the charities I was interested in were here, so I kept looking.

Then I came across the Better Business Bureau charity guide: give.org. It has information comparable to Charity Navigator, but it also lists the organizations that refuse to share their financial information. This is a red flag that immediately crosses an organization off my list. What charity refuses to share their info with the BBB? One with something to hide is all I can surmise.

Of course, the financial information isn't the sole factor is picking a charity. The most important thing is finding a charity that does something that we believe makes the world a better place. This means having both a strong objective and an approach that will work. This is the subjective part of the research. In the case of organizations working to help the people in Darfur, none of them were rated by any of the agencies I consulted. But this was a very important issue to us, so we made a leap of faith and donated to the Save Darfur Coalition.

But here I am on NYE, still deciding on the last of the charities (we still haven't found an Alzheimer's organization that is a clear leader of the pack).

When am I going to have time to work on New Year's resolutions? I guess it's all about priorities. Maybe the kids aren't aware of our choices now, but there will come a year that they notice what we are doing and it becomes a model for them, and eventually when they have their own families they will sit down and make their own choices.

Good Parent, Bad Parent?

Every once in a while, I come across someone with a pessimistic view of parenthood. There are people out there who seem to think that everyone has a screwed up childhood, and those few who do have caring, involved parents turn out to be screwed anyway because they are too coddled.

As a parent, I have to ponder this and wonder how much truth there is to it. Eager to keep my children from making too many mistakes in life, I'm going to teach them as well as I can how to do things for themselves and make good decisions. But if I am too successful in keeping them from making mistakes, then are they missing out in a crucial part of life and learning?

Today, as I sat with Esme and worked on her preschool workbook, I wondered whether I was becoming the example of a too-good parent. We work on 2-3 pages at a time so that she can maintain her focus, and I help her by showing her what to do and in some cases (like connecting the dots) using my hand to guide her hand in the drawing. Should I let her do everything for herself, even when it's clear that she is not getting the concept (like color in the squares, not color in every shape)? I think my guidance is helping her learn. She eventually started coloring in just the shapes that she was supposed to with less and less guidance from me. But will she grow up always looking for someone like Mommy to show her what to do?

It's a fine line to walk, figuring out how involved to be and how much to just let a child explore on their own. Esme has lots of free time to play where I am not involved at all, but I think the time we spend working on things together is important, too. And she enjoys both her free time and her structured time with Mommy. So for now I will banish that pessimistic voice echoing in my head saying it's impossible to be the perfect parent and continue trying to do the best I can.

The Pitfalls of Online Shopping

A big box full of toys arrived today. The problem was that these toys were meant to go to my sister's house in Franklin, TN.

She had sent my children presents from the same online company, Oompa.com, and somehow they got confused and sent both orders to my house. My order had arrived yesterday, so I was surprised to see another box today.

Now my sister is frantically running around so that Santa doesn't fail her little tykes. I offered to overnight her the box, but she was so angry dealing with the folks at Oompa that she declared she just wanted me to return everything. The first guy she talked to was rude to her. She called me in tears, so I called up the company myself and talked to the same guy, who was as cold and unhelpful as possible. It was obvious he didn't have kids and couldn't empathize with the pressure a mom feels around Christmas time.

From my sister's perspective, the company was at fault. She was certain that she put in her address, and that her initial order showed that she wasn't paying taxes since she lives in TN and the company is in CA. But the company did charge her taxes and sent the items to me in CA. Regardless of who was at fault, they certainly could have been nicer about it. And now, it's up to me to send this damn box back to Oompa, which means a trip to the post office around holiday time. And I feel a little bad because I recommended Oompa to my sister in the first place. I guess I won't do that anymore.

I used to love online shopping, but lately I'm not so sure. For example, the last minute gifts I purchased yesterday were wrapped in the store for me, beautifully I might add, and for free. Oompa charges a "wrapping fee" of $4.99 which they don't tell you about until the final stages of check out (and they say "we really do enjoy wrapping presents" on their website!!!!). If they presumably have lower overhead being an online retailer, then why can't they splurge for wrapping paper? They are upmarket, too, and online retailers should realize that people buying expensive, foreign toys expect decent service.

The return process is not as good, either. I would rather go into a store to return a gift than make a trip to the post office. Come to think of it, I would rather do almost anything than go to the post office. And then there's the factor of having to pay to return gifts. That just seems wrong.

And perhaps the most important factor is the unreliability. A few years ago, I purchased all the gifts for my family from Amazon and had them shipped to my parents' house in Kentucky. They didn't ship them because they were waiting for a book that wasn't going to be available until January (even though when I first made the purchase, they said the book was available to ship then). I had to change the shipping order and pay extra just to get the gifts there on time, even though I had placed the original order way before the holidays.

That's it. It's back to bricks and mortar for me.

Shopping with Two Kids

I thought I had planned it so well. I had taken care of almost all the gifts, but then realized there were a few more on my list. So I packed both kids in the car this morning and headed over to Burlingame Avenue.

The challenge began with parking. I had no coins in my purse and the only parking there is metered. I sat for a minute and wondered where I could run in (with both kids in my arms), get change, and run back out to the car as quickly as possible. I could see the meter maid making her rounds up and down the street.

I looked in my purse and realized I had no cash, either. So first we went to the BofA, which fortunately had a drive through ATM. Then I parked in a metered spot, changed Emil's diaper in the car, loaded him in his pouch (crying), picked up Esme (also crying), dragging them to Pete's Coffee and begging them to stop crying. They stopped just before we entered the store. Score! Not a long line, a quick cup of coffee and two dollars worth of change later we were back out to the car, fed the meter, and then began our shopping.

I had forgotten the attachments for the stroller, so Esme walked and Emil stayed in the pouch. After our initial difficulties, the shopping went pretty well. I managed to get almost all the gifts I needed in three stores because I decided going to more in search of the "perfect" gifts just wasn't going to happen. But we managed to survive getting everything on our list, including lunch, and we did it without a major meltdown!

Yes, I am super mom.

The Third Tier in the Parenting Club

"You have a long way to go." This is what a man who appeared to be in his 70's said to me in Target as he admired Emil sleeping comfortably in his fleece pouch.

Now this is code talk in the private club of parents. Having been a member of this club for over two years now, I was able to decipher it. But it was the first time I realized there was a third tier in this secret club. I have long been aware of the first and second tiers of membership, but could there be a third tier? Apparently so.

Let me explain.

When Esme was first born, I noticed that being a parent is like belonging to a club. As I carried her around Brooklyn in her pouch, other parents, normally taciturn Brooklynites artfully trained in the avoidance of eye contact, would look me straight in the eye and do the unheard of: start a conversation. They would tell me about their children, and talk about the joys of parenthood. This happened on stoops of redbrick townhouses, in the subway, in line at the bagel shop, just about everywhere.

Eventually, I found myself talking to other new parents, striking up the conversation without thinking twice, acknowledging our mutual membership in this majestic club of parenthood. At some point, as I commented to a parent with a new baby, "Isn't it wonderful?" She looked at me, and explained, "Oh, this isn't my first baby." Her tone was somewhat offended. This same conversation happened several times before I fully understood that there are tiers to the parenthood club. The experienced parents and the new parents don't fall into the same category. You start different conversations with the different groups.

Now when I just have Emil with me and someone talks to me as if I were a brand new parent, I work hard not to say, "Oh, this isn't my first child." I just smile and say, "Yes, he's so much fun" when they go through the requisite lines, "Isn't parenthood wonderful?" and "Are you getting any sleep yet?" But when I have both children, parents in the second tier start laughing and talking about all the mistakes they made with newborns, sharing these stories with me because I am obviously a veteran.

Now, this older man who said "you have a long way to go" was speaking from a different perspective. He was speaking from the alumni group. And even though he spoke to me like I was a brand new parent, he might have said the same thing if I had had both children with me. Because the truth is, I do have a long way to go.

Private Parts

I have a confession to make. I usually feel like I'm on top of things when it comes to the philosophy of parenting. But there is one parenting issue that I haven't quite figured out yet. What is the appropriate name for a child's private parts? I disdain euphemisms. When Esme farts, we call it a fart (although she strangely enough has renamed it "burping from your bottom" as opposed to "burping from your mouth", expressions that are always accompanied by gestures pointing to the various body parts).

But when I change Esme's diaper, I can't bring myself to say vagina. It seems like such a big word for such a little girl. Or maybe it's just that I don't like the word. I don't know. I read somewhere that women have a hard time using the word vagina, even if they are in conversation with their gynecologist. The word vulva doesn't sound much better, to me. So what's the right word to use? Without really planning it, I started saying "wee-wee". And somehow it has stuck. I change Esme's diaper, and she points down there and says in her two-year-old questioning voice, "Dat my wee-wee?"

"Yes, Esme, that's your wee-wee," I say, unsure even as I say it how I picked that word. For some reason, in my mind wee-wee has always been the euphemism for a boy's parts (yes, I have just as hard a time with the word penis as I do with vagina). So I started specifying, "You have a girl's wee-wee, and Emil has a boy's wee-wee." Curious as to what a wee-wee really is, I looked it up on dictionary.com. Apparently it's the pee itself, not the private parts. Who needs a euphemism for pee-pee, I wonder?

Baby Time

Mornings are supposed to be my productive time at home. Esme goes to daycare and Emil just hangs out. I should be working on stories and pitches and doing household chores, but instead, I find myself hanging out with Emil. He doesn't need to cry to get my attention. When he's awake and alert, I want to be there with him. It's fun to watch him swing his arms and kick his legs, wide-eyed at the world around him.

But it's a different pace, hanging out with a baby. I just sit there, and enjoy changing facial expressions, the way he moves his head at the sound of my voice. It's like slowing down, reminiscent of my childhood, hot summer days in Kentucky, where you don't want to do anything but sit on the porch and drink iced tea, rocking back and forth. Emil smiles at me and sometimes manages a coo, those first explorations of voice. I like this slow time. Baby time.