I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with Ikea, the build-it-yourself furniture superstore. One the one hand, even before the recession I appreciated a bargain, and I like to think that even if I had $5,000 to spend on an end table, I wouldn’t be so wasteful. Walking through Ikea’s beautiful but maze-like showroom and seeing the ridiculously low prices gives me the same high I got the first time I went to Loehmann’s (back in the day when it was a real outlet with real discounts; heck, I went to the original one in the Bronx, where I fought for mirror space with an entire Mah Jongg club, only to emerge triumphantly with a beautiful lined wool coat for $40). 

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I am the classic pear shape: tiny upper body with a rounded lower body. I’ve never had breasts bigger than an ‘aa’ cup.

You can imagine how excited I was with my first pregnancy about getting “porn” breasts. I told my husband that I was going to buy a special lacy bra so he could take many a photo of me and my breasts. I even told my close male friends they could look at the photos—which sounds weird, and I guess it is weird but that’s how excited I was about getting big boobs.

In the end, my breasts only got big enough to fill an ‘a’ cup bra with a little spillage over the front. They grew, of course, when I started to breast feed but never enough fit into a maternity bra. (The photo is of when my breasts were at their biggest.)

PHOTO

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Usually, I delete those unsolicited emails offering tips on anti-aging superfoods (acai berries! no, tofu!, actually, now it’s quinoa!), positive thinking (”send this to 5 supportive friends, and something amazing will happen in the next 9 minutes!”), and income (”Yes, you can turn your journalling into a 6 figure book contract!”). But one popped up the other day which I couldn’t resist, promising ‘Brand New Ways to Banish Bad Behavior for Good!’ (Come on, the only person who could resist that title is the supermom down the block, you know, the one whose perfectly-dressed kids ASK for extra chores and love broccoli, the ones who’ve never heard of Burger King?)
So I read the article, which said that our culture gives kids too much of a sense of entitlement, and the only way to improve their behavior is to teach them gratitude, expressing thanks and by noticing small blessings. (This is brand new?) I can just see some harried mom, pulled over for speeding with 2 screaming kids in the car, doing her deep breathing and saying, “Justin, Ashleigh, let’s say thank you to the nice officer for doing his part for our community.” Or a frazzled mom breaking up a fight with “Boys, tell each other how grateful you are that this time neither of you actually drew blood.”
I mean, come on. Kids act up, no matter what we do, and you can read 5,000 articles with tips on influencing their behavior, and have the exact same results. I’ve tried the gratitude thing - we say grace before meals by having each family member say two things he or she is grateful for. Usually I get a sullen, “I’m grateful for, food and family, um, do I HAVE to eat the tuna casserole?” Or the boys use the ritual as an excuse for pushing an agenda: “I’m grateful mom MIGHT let me stay up and watch Family Guy, and I’m grateful that Ben isn’t been as annoying as he usually is.”
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for trying to limit this entitlement thing, where kids feel the world revolves around them. I give them regular chores, I’m sticking with being (in their opinion) the meanest mom in the world because we only have one television set in the house, and I not only make them do their own homework, I have never yet referred to a school project in the first person plural. (You know, “WE got a bad grade on the science experiment . . . “) But beyond that, I guess I sort of feel like bad behavior is part of childhood, and part of what we get to make them feel guilty for when they’re grown. 
Besides, if there really were brand new, fail-safe strategies for making kids behave perfectly, there wouldn’t be such a proliferation of articles and web tips and emails advising us - the articles don’t really help, but they do provide outside work for a whole bunch of moms who are probably thrilled to have something to do besides trying to make their own kids behave!
As far as I’m considered, my strategy for dealing with my kids’ unpleasant behavior is

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I’m fourteen weeks pregnant with my second child—my son is 19 months old. Absolutely excited of course; at the same time a bit bummed as my husband and I had just got our sex life back into a good place and now it will be, once again, erratic for the next two years.

My first pregnancy came after ten miscarriages. As such for the first semester I was considered a high risk pregnancy and we weren’t allowed to have sex. More so, I was so completely freaked out about the baby ‘sticking’ that sex was the last thing my mind.

Once or twice I remember thinking, “Who would want to have sex while going through all of this morning sickness, first trimester crap?”; grateful sex wasn’t allowed.

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So ok - I suck. You guys have to tell me how you got your men to acquiesce to the ball snip - aka - vasectomy. Mine won’t do it - and I’m not about to ruin my tummy tuck with an open abdominal surgery (they can’t go in with a laparascope thru your belly button if you’ve had one - heads up).

Onward - I had a Mirena, for 5 years - then when my daughter was a shade under 5, they showed it to me in an ultrasound. I didn’t like seeing it in there - why did I have to walk around with a mini grappling hook in my uterus? Besides, Mirena releases low-dose hormone directly into your uterine lining. Since I wasn’t going to quit smoking, and I really didn’t want to have a stroke, I directed the OB to pull it.

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My 18 month old son was playing “disappear” in the closet as I made a fresh bed. Task completed, I went to retrieve him and he handed me a lovely silver clutch purse. It took a few beats to realize that it was my lovely clutch and that once upon a time I used it quite a bit.

I had to sit down on the floor the force hit me so hard. Remembering days of going out on a whim’s notice. Eating at trendy downtown restaurants, drinking martinis and wine. Meeting with sophisticated (childless) friends to go to a movie. Walking slowly hand-in-hand when the weather was warm. Dressing up in fun (sometimes adventurous) clothes with proper time to do my hair and makeup.

I sat there in a memory haze, kicking myself hard about how I could have taken it all fore granted.

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