The “I Still Gotta” list is my name for all the things I must do before getting out the door in the morning or collapsing into bed at night. On a typical weeknight, I have two hours to accomplish the following while a toddler demands my undivided attention: make dinner, make lunches for the next day, clean the kitchen, give my toddler a bath, feed the dog, close the door to the chicken coop, get my toddler ready for bed and take my vitamins. An extra heavy list might include a load of laundry, paying bills, making a weekly menu and shopping list and a trip to the pharmacy.
The list is much smaller than it was just one or two years ago. When Nora was an infant, and I went back to work, the list was enormous. Just the grind of getting the breast pump supplies washed and repacked for the following day was enough to bring me to tears.
I can’t stop the list from running through my head, but I can pare it down to the point where it doesn’t suffocate me.
Two-year-olds love helping, so I have assistance with things like setting the table and loading the dishwasher. She can undress herself and pick out her pajamas. And please don’t think my husband is watching television while all this is going on. He builds lego towers with Nora while I cook dinner, helps with clean-up, and takes turns giving baths. Most importantly, tells me when when I should just sit down.
When I’m feeling really overwhelmed, the weeknight list can be distilled down to two things: eating dinner and storytime. The kitchen stays dirty, the chicken door stays open, no lunches get packed. We read an extra big stack of books while cuddled in bed and let the list rest until morning.
The great writing in these blogs affirms my belief that using your children for material is morally justifiable — the world is a richer place when parents can write like this.
Dad Gone Mad He started a blog for the same reason I did, he “wasn’t a writer, but wanted to become one.” And so he did.
Metro Dad A funny, smart, single dad diary.
Stop Pinching Your Sister! (Practical Parenting Tips Based on My Columbia MBA) A very fun look at parenting through the lens of lessons learned in business school. Pretty new, but very promising.
Sperminated: Just Another Mummy Blog Irreverent. Truthful. Love it.
Alpha Mummy From the London Times online.
Best Parent Ever Every post begins, “The Best Parent Ever is better than you because…” Delicious satire.
If you love a blogger, Digg them. If you love a blog that I don’t know about, please tell me about it.
I had three bins of baby clothes in Nora’s closet that had been lent out to friends and returned. My toddler had discovered them was attempting to wedge herself into very small clothing on a very regular basis. Time to clean out the closet.
I separated the wheat from the chaff by making a “sell” pile of the good stuff and a “donate” pile of the rest, then started doing research of where to sell.
I’m familiar with three children’s resale shops in the Portland area: Sweet Pea, in Sellwood, We Love Kids (no website) on Fuller Road in Southeast and Bella Stella, in the Hollywood District.
When it came to selling, I was unwilling to go back to Sweet Pea. Their website had no useful information about how or when to sell to them, and a few months ago I hauled in a box of stuff only to be turned away due to lack of appointment. Why bother to have a website if you’re not going to tell people what they need to know about your business? And don’t you rely on people bringing you high quality items to stock your store? Why make it tough on them by accepting items by appointment only?
We Love Kids does not have a website. So I picked up the phone. The owner was very nice. She let me know that she wasn’t making any appointments until March and implied that she had enough people signed up to sell already. She also let me know that she worked on a consignment basis only and sent out checks only every 3 months. This was not pushing my instant gratification button.
Next, I checked online. Bella Stella had a website. It was informative and professional! Everything I needed to know was right there on one page. Best of all, they were actually welcoming me to bring in my items any time during business hours, without an appointment. Bella Stella gives you store credit (no cash) for your items the same day you bring them in. You get half the value of what they believe will be the final selling price of the item. I threw my goods in the car and headed for the Hollywood District.
The store was easy to find (right on Broadway). It was clean and well organized. I was warmly greeted right away by a lovely store employee. I left my stuff with her and browsed while she went through my items. They have a great selection of high-end, gently used clothes. They also have a great selection of brand new, high quality toys from manufacturers like HABA and Melissa and Doug and some new clothes that are locally sourced. You can use your credit for any item in the store. Wheels started turning, when Nora’s birthday comes around, I can cash in her old clothes for a great present!
I had no idea what to expect for the value of my items. I also didn’t really care, I needed to get rid of the stuff and something was better than nothing. The lovely young Bella Stella employee came back and told me that I would get $87.00 in store credit for my items! My jaw almost hit the floor. I may have told her to “shut up,” or “get out.” I walked out with two pairs of high end shoes, a shirt, a pair of tights, a pair of jeans (all used), a brand new sweater (a splurge at $25) and a gift card for my $30 store credit. I fairly floated to the car.
My closets are clean, and my $30 gift card is tucked safely away, waiting for a trip in May for Nora’s 3rd birthday. I am Portland’s happiest cheapskate.
Please feel free to share your stories of experiences with other local resale shops in the comments. I’d love to know how the other local shops measure up. Please note, Bella Stella did not pay me to say nice things. They didn’t have to.
I’m beginning a new feature on this blog. Every Saturday I will post a parenting mistake my husband and I have made. Please have a laugh or cry at our expense — we really are good parents, I swear.
Turns out, a “mocha” cookie has enough caffeine in it to make a toddler temporarily insane. Under the influence, my daughter reminded me of no one so much as Dennis Hopper. Rapid speech, flapping limbs, wild eyes, crazy plans. I almost had to lay on her cattle squeezer style to calm her like a panicky cow. Thankfully, the effects lasted only twenty minutes. This is a mistake I will never make again. She’s not getting anything caffeinated until her eighteenth birthday.