Category: Family Life

And Then There Were Five…

~ ejmcewan ~ 3 Comments

This little bundle arrived about three weeks ago.

IMG_6193

It’s strange how quickly time flies. I, literally, can’t believe I’m actually an adult some days, let alone a wife and mother of three. This pregnancy and now this baby have found me more contemplative than my other two children and I’d love to share a few things I’ve been thinking about and learning. (I’m only 3 weeks post-partum, so my brain is still mushy. I apologize if something doesn’t make sense.)

Here goes:

– I have spent the past 5+ years pregnant or breastfeeding, sometimes both. Because we intend to have at least one more biological child, I can expect to spend the next 4 or 5 years either pregnant or breastfeeding, as well. Although I don’t resent using my body this way, I look forward to the day when my body will not be attached to a child and it will feel like it’s ‘mine” again.

– The physical toll that pregnancy and motherhood take on a woman’s body–and the way it affects her body image–is significant. A woman’s body changes and ages through the seasons of her life. I’m hoping I can appreciate those changes as I mature through those seasons and have reasonable expectations for myself and for other women.

– While in the throes of this third labor experience, I decided that childbirth sucks. I’m willing to admit that to myself now. So, after three superstar attempts, I have given up “the natural childbirth” dream. From here on out, my only goal in childbirth is to have a baby. I will still celebrate the success of those who have had awesome, empowering childbirth experiences, but I am going to stop trying so hard to have my own. I don’t expect childbirth to make me feel more powerful. I don’t need to feel more womanly. I don’t want to feel more in tune with my body. I just want to meet that baby. As long as that happens, I’m a happy camper.

– Mothers everywhere should be able to participate in a worldwide clothing co-op. When something gets too big (pre-pregnancy), or too small (during pregnancy), or just ill-fitting (post-pregnancy), you can trade it in for something else that fits better. Who wants to make this happen for me?

– Baby poop is so much better than toddler poop.

– The hardest part of mothering is different for every woman. On the top of my list is a very simple fact: children need their mother. My guess is that many mothers, at their worst, are co-dependent. They thrive on being needed. It turns out, at my worst, I am close to the opposite: I hate being needed. I am thankful that I understood this about myself before I became a mother or this would have been ten times harder to adjust to.

– Also on the top of my list: I am never alone. A mother might be the only person the planet, apart from the President and the Pope, who has to ask someone to guard the door while she gets dressed, showers, or uses the bathroom.

– Having a new baby gives you a whole new perspective on how huge your older children are. Seriously. They are huge.

– Now that I have three children, I’m starting to understand how easy it is to just keep having more of them. After a certain point, a family becomes a living, breathing organism with its own rhythm. Get into the rhythm and adding another moving piece doesn’t seem so tricky. (Just to clarify: I am not claiming to have found this magical rhythm, only claiming that I now believe it exists.)

– And, yes, your capacity for loving really does increase with every child. It is possible to love them all.

– I remember when I had my first child and older moms treated me like I was naive for setting high standards for myself and my family. You know the type. They give you the “first-time mom” rhetoric that claims every mother starts as a Perfect Mom idealist and ends up feeding her kids Lucky Charms for dinner in front of Disney cartoons. I hated that rhetoric then and I hate it now. It’s like a pre-emptive “I told you so” and it’s degrading to young mothers. The truth is that all mothers start naive. And all mothers learn and grow and change. And there is no reason to shame a young mother for starting with bold assumptions about childbirth, breastfeeding, education, etc. We should be gentle with the way we handle “naive” first-time parents and, rather than acting as if they will “wise up” after parenthood proves them wrong, we need to reinforce that good parents only get better with time.

– On that note: I am afraid that the better I get at being a mom, the worse I am at being a wife. I wonder if this happens to a lot of women. Their roles shift and their attention shifts and they don’t have enough to give to everyone. (This is a problem. I’m trying to deal with it.)

– If motherhood is making me a bad wife, it’s making me an even worse friend. (Sorry, friends. If there are any of you left…)

– One of the main arguments people give against having multiple children is that “they are too expensive.” This is a cop-out. Show me how a man spends his money and I’ll tell you what he loves. Having multiple children means rethinking priorities. It means sacrificing things you’d like to buy for yourself. And it means reconsidering what each child “needs” for himself.

– We bought a large SUV last summer because we needed a vehicle that would fit at least two children and three adults. We opted out of buying a minivan because we did not want a minivan. We know full-well that most families end up buying a minivan. We know that most people who have a minivan love their minivan. And we know that, someday, we will have to buy some other type of vehicle (likely a minivan). But we aren’t ready for it yet.

– That said, I nearly cried/screamed the first few times I tried to load all three of my children into said SUV by myself.

– I much prefer navigating a walk around downtown to loading/unloading three children into/out of a car. And parking lots? Ugh! They are death traps. I’d take sidewalks any day.

– Don’t even get me started on carseats. I hate ’em.

Narcissistic Birthday Post

~ ejmcewan ~ 3 Comments

Last weekend, I celebrated my 31st birthday. In honor of my big day, I’m giving myself the gift of allowing myself to talk about myself for a few moments.

At least you aren’t being forced to read this, right?

31 Things You May Or May Not Know, Or Want To Know, About Me

On the Myers-Briggs personality profile, I score as an INTJ. My I:E, N:S, and T:F ratios are all either 8:2 or 9:1. My J:P ratio is more like 6:4. Some of you will know what this means and you will find it interesting. Those of you who don’t know what this means probably don’t care.

One of my deepest fears, as an introvert, is that people mistake my distance for a lack of personal interest. I actually really, really like most people and, if I had the emotional energy, I would love to be more engaged.

Being an “introverted thinker” makes me a terrible wife if I’m not careful to make adjustments for the sake of my husband.

When people have husband:wife conversations and talk about the differences between men and women, I usually have more in common (emotionally) with the men in the scenario.

I’ve always made faster friends with boys and men than with girls, but I am not a women-hater by any means. It’s just always been easier for me to speak the language of men than of women.

One of my favorite aspects of being a mother has been the way mothering has liberated the caretaker/emotional/nurturer side of me that has never really had a place to exercise itself. I didn’t quite know what to expect of myself when I approached motherhood, but I have been amazed by my capacity to love my children.

I think I’ve always been a terrible roommate. (Maybe some of you can attest to that.)

I am a complete idiot when it comes to cleaning. You know how some people “just don’t get” math or philosophy or music theory? I feel that way about cleaning. It is a daily struggle for me to remember that the fan needs to be dusted. If we were wealthy, I would hire a housekeeper.

I am the same way about shopping and clothes. It is, literally, like a foreign language to me. I simply don’t get it.

In high school, I swore off beauty products for ideological reasons. I spent the next seven years in various stages of anti-beauty (on purpose). It was a very strange, but very important, few years.

I’m still trying to navigate the world of beauty, fashion, and femininity. This is another thing that makes my relationship with women a little–awkward.

For a year after college, I sold athletic shoes as my main source of income while traveling and playing music on the weekends. I was actually fantastic at sales and great at my job, but it eventually starting sucking my soul. I just could not justify making money by convincing people that they need a $150 pair of running shoes. It felt dirty.

Being an idealist really gets in the way of life sometimes.

The only serious career aspirations I ever remember having were: First, to be an Egyptologist (this was in grade school); In middle school and into high school, I considered being an interior designer or architect; By the time I graduated from high school, I was pursuing music ministry.

(There was also a brief period during which I aspired to be a professional water skier. No joke.)

My college degree is in Worship Arts. It’s a fancy way to say that I know a lot about why Christians do what they do when they get together at church and I’ve spent many, many hours thinking about how to do it better.

When we got married, my husband and I decided to live in Over-the-Rhine.

We were here to plant a church.

It did not go so well.

(There is more to every story.)

We have now lived in OTR for more than five years. We have a serious love/hate relationship with our life here, but it’s very hard to imagine ever leaving.

But I still dream about moving far, far away from the city.

One of the reasons I love cities is that I am fascinated by architecture and the spaces we inhabit–both private and public. You can tell a lot about a culture by the spaces they inhabit.

I think my love for architecture was birthed from my father’s love for it. As a child, he took me with him to scope out unfinished homes, mid-construction and then also to open houses on new homes in the area. In middle school, I would beg my mother for magazines of house plans instead of fashion magazines.

One of the reasons I never went into design or architecture is that I’m not a very creative person. I’m more of a technician, an engineer-type. I think I’m more interested in the theory of architecture and place–urban-planning, maybe–than in the actual creative process of design.

I am not an artist.

In college, I spent a lot of time with artists, brilliant people who made me feel brilliant just by being around them. Those were golden times.

I started writing music over ten years ago. I’ve written a few pretty good songs, but nothing awesome. I’ve made a half dozen recordings, but nothing I’m very proud of.

Three times in the past ten years, I’ve considered that my “music career” was officially over. One of them was when I moved to Cincinnati.

I was never supposed to stay in Cincinnati. I was going to live here for two years while my boyfriend finished art school and then we were going to go live out our bohemian fantasy on the road or on the trail or out of the country doing something creative and wonderful. That dream ended 8 years ago.

When I met my husband, about six months later, he made me love this city. And, no matter how long we’re here, this city will always be a part of what made me fall in love with him.

The Hardest Part of Motherhood

~ ejmcewan ~ 6 Comments

Some women hate pregnancy.
Some women dread childbirth.
Some women can’t bear to lose sleep while caring for a restless newborn or doing laundry or changing diapers.

Parenting young children (and old, I can imagine) is hard, on multiple levels, and we could list the reasons.

But, the hardest part of motherhood?
It’s the moment a mother (or mother to-be or mother in-waiting) realizes the fragility of a child’s life and their own powerlessness to protect it.

Today marks 26 weeks into my third pregnancy.

Unlike many of my peers, getting pregnant has been easy for me and my pregnancies have been relatively drama-free. And childbirth, though excruciating, has left me unscathed and willing to go another round. I was not naive about the difficulties of pregnancy and childbirth. And, as I entered those awkward first few months of motherhood, I was not surprised by the difficulties I encountered. And now these wild and crazy first few years? I’ve never been surprised by how difficult this work truly is.

But, six weeks ago, I was surprised by a phone call from my OBGYN.

The short version of my story is that our baby–our little girl–has a Single Umbilical Artery (SUA). The doctor called me that day to tell me that a Perinatologist had spotted this abnormality on the photos of our otherwise-normal ultrasound and wanted to follow-up with another, more detailed ultrasound to rule out other possible abnormalities. She assured me that, given the otherwise normal ultrasound images, the SUA was probably an isolated abnormality. But, I should be aware that SUA is often present with other congenital defects and further testing would need to be done.

Since it was a Friday afternoon, I had all weekend to play internet detective and find out what terrible things could be happening to my baby.

What I found out: First of all, SUA is fairly common (somewhere between 1 in 100 and 1 in 500 live births). And, like my doctor said, the most common, majority-case scenario was that the SUA was isolated and there would be no other abnormalities. But, if our situation was like the minority of SUA cases, we could be dealing with much more difficult implications. The possibilities range from slight and manageable challenges (things like low birth weight, premature birth, or Trisomy 21–aka Down Syndrome) to much more severe abnormalities (things like renal and cardiac anomalies, Intrauterine Growth Restriction, and Trisomy 18–aka Edwards Syndrome). The more severe abnormalities could lead to miscarriage, stillbirth, and early infant death.

As you can imagine, it was a rough weekend.

The good news for us is that when we saw the Perinatologist early that next week, the only other issue he detected in our Level II ultrasound is a small placenta tear. There don’t seem to be any other congenital defects. I have now been elevated to “high risk” but, as long as the placenta tear does not grow or develop into a clot, we should not expect any serious complications with the rest of the pregnancy or our daughter’s health.

How’s that for good news?

But I’m not writing this to tell you the good news.

As much as I’m thankful a million times over that our baby appears healthy, our SUA scare has reminded me of all the mothers who don’t hear good news.

It made me feel real, physical, tangible pain for all the women I know who simply cannot get pregnant at all,
and those who can’t imagine paying for an adoption or aren’t approved for an adoption or whose almost-adopted babies are taken away,
and those who miscarry once or twice or five times,
and those whose babies are born already dead,
and those whose babies are born with broken bodies that never heal,
and those whose healthy children grow sick and die,
or whose children get hurt and die,
or whose children are victimized or brutalized or hurt themselves,
and the list goes on and on and on.

And it made me feel scared and helpless and powerless.

I always knew–cognitively, like the way I know “how gravity works”–that something like this could happen to me or to my children. But, now I was faced with the reality of it.

Maybe it’s my turn.
Maybe this time it’s my baby.

I don’t want to be overly dramatic about this because, as I’ve said, my story ends with good news and the fear of losing a child is nothing compared to the reality of losing a child. But I also don’t want to minimize the lesson learned here, the important and sobering lesson that every mother will learn eventually:
The hardest part of motherhood is the fragility of a child’s life and the knowledge that we are powerlessness to protect it.

The big question, I guess, is how we deal with this knowledge.
How do we continue having more children and loving them fully and deeply when we know that, at any moment, we could lose them? How can we have the faith to even let them out the front door or in a car or down the slide at the park without fearing for their lives?

In addition to not over-dramatizing this story, I also don’t want to over-theologize it because I know that many of the people who read my blog are not Christians and don’t have the same context for understanding the way the Maker of the Universe orchestrates the lives of small children. But, I don’t know how I could process these thoughts without my faith. I’m sure there are other coping mechanisms that I could enlist to help, but I’m not sure any other system of belief would offer the same consolation.

A few years ago, a friend told me she had just lost her third pregnancy–two to miscarriage and one to stillbirth. The news was difficult to process, but it was even more difficult to find a proper response. I’m not sure I ever found one.

The picture that came to mind, when I considered her situation, was the concept of painful expectation that Paul talks about in the book of Romans.

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. (Ch.8, v. 18-23)

I don’t want to stretch this meaning too far, but I think its application might be appropriate.

Basically, I believe this:

We are broken people. We live in a broken world with broken bodies. We give birth, in pain, to broken children. This brokenness should not surprise us. But we are suffering through this painful, corrupted world, in expectation of complete and total redemption–of not just our souls but also our bodies. And, to this hope and for this hope, we persevere. We do not believe that the loss of a child is good or welcome or any less tragic. But, if we believe this story, we believe that every breath breathed by that child–or heartbeat, or year lived–is a miracle and a gift because it gives us a glimpse of redemption. This might not make loss any easier, but it does make the hope of redemption all the more poignant.

 

Mothering is hard.
Physically, emotionally, and mentally, it requires constant labor and commitment.

But the joys of mothering can not be understated.

And, though the fear of losing a child can steal the joy of mothering, it doesn’t need to. Instead, it could free us to embrace each moment with our children–unborn, newborn, long-ago born–as the miracle it truly is.

I wonder if it’s even possible to embrace the sacredness of the life of a child without first understanding how miraculous their very existence is in the first place.

On that note, what should we name her?

Photo 510

Choosing A Small Living Space

~ ejmcewan ~ 1 Comment

When considering housing options, one of the most common concerns among parents is space: physical space, square footage, acreage. For this reason alone, urban living is almost immediately crossed off the list of options. To move to the city may require sharing a building with neighbors, sharing bedrooms with siblings, or limiting outdoor space for play.

molinecourtMoline Court, Northside. photo credit

As the mother of a growing family, I understand this concern and I’m sympathetic. Our home has plenty of square footage for our family, but the space is not arranged very well. Currently, we only use two of our available bedrooms as sleeping spaces, which means that my two children share a room and Baby #3 (due in September) will bunk with us (as the other two have for their first few months) and then eventually with her brother and sister.

Three kids in one room.
In 21st Century middle-class America, that is simply absurd.

As our family grows, we get more and more questions about what we’re going to do with that new baby once she’s born. Reconfiguring our home to use 3 or more bedrooms will require a large financial investment and a lot of work (and time). For now, it’s not on the agenda. I like our current situation. And, apart from the logistics of different sleeping habits and bedtimes, it doesn’t bother me at all to have a bunch of young children sleeping in the same room. (Now, when they’re teenagers, this might be a bit trickier…)

Contrary to the popular belief of my peers, it’s not impossible for a large family to live comfortably in the city. It simply requires sacrifice, creativity, and wisdom about the best way to use a limited amount of space. Most urban families–those who live in the city by choice, not necessity–have reconciled their sacrifice of space for the sake of other benefits of life in the city. And, with a clever use of space (alongside purging unnecessary stuff and using good organizational skills), I think living in small space could actually be easier than a large sprawling home. (Imagine how much easier it would be to clean a house half the size!)

On a related note, I came across this article in Apartment Therapy last night. This woman only has two children, which is not really a large family, but she offers a good perspective on why choosing a smaller space is often not really a sacrifice, but is actually a good thing for family life.

What about you?
Have you considered down-sizing to a smaller space for the sake of a different way of life?
Do you already feel squeezed too tight?
Have you already given-up on small spaces?
For those living in small spaces, what lifestyle (and organizational) changes have you made to make it easier for living?

For some related stories (with great photos!) check out these other recent Apartment Therapy posts:

Emily’s Nursery Nook in the Bedroom
Something For Everyone (a shared room for three boys)
Jack, Finn & Rowan’s “Undone” Room (another shared room)
Before & After: Closet Turned Nursery
A Small Space Nursery Triumph in Manhattan

And for general encouragement that small-space living can actually be great, check out these links:

Small House Bliss
Honey, I Shrunk The House
Tiny House Swoon

Mama McEwan’s 10 Essential Rules of Parenting

~ ejmcewan ~ 3 Comments

I’ve only been at this parenting thing for 4+ years so I’m no expert, but I have learned a few things along the way. And, in honor of Mother’s Day, I want to share my (current) 10 guiding rules of parenting.

Take them or leave them.

1. Be their parent, not their friend. When they are 16, you can tell them about your first real date. When they are 21, you can buy them a beer. When they’re 25 and getting married, you can kid with them about how your husband never learned to boil pasta. And then when they’re having their first child, you can finally reveal some embarrassing family secrets. But, for now, they are not your friends; they are your children and it is your job to parent them. It is up to you to teach them how to interact with every other authority figure they will have–teachers, friends’ parents, bosses. If they do not learn to take instruction from you, you are setting them up for a world of hurt when they have to learn to take instruction from people who don’t care nearly as much for them. Your children are not your peers and they are not competent to make decisions about what is best for them. Yes, your 4 year-old can help you decide between spaghetti and meatloaf for dinner, but he may not decide whether or not he eats said spaghetti or meatloaf. That is your decision. Make it for him.

2. Go ahead and indoctrinate them. Don’t buy the lie that children should “decide for themselves” what they believe about God and the universe and the difference between right and wrong. Even if you never have those conversations with your children, they will learn something from you and, when they are young, what they learn from you will be the only thing they have to guide them. So, go ahead and be bold in the way you define it for them. Don’t be afraid to give them something to believe in. Sure, you might not have all the answers or they might rebel or they might decide, at 18, that you were wrong. But that all comes later and that will happen, regardless. Unless you want them to approach their adolescence believing that they can simply feel their way through big decisions in life, you’d better decide now what philosophy they’ll need to guide them. Give your children a foundation and don’t apologize for it.

3. Teach them social skills beyond their years. Teach your children to do “adult things” like shake hands, say “excuse me,” carry on a conversation, and look another person in the eye. They should know how to approach strangers to ask a question. They should know how to ask for directions or pay for their own snack or ask for a napkin. These skills don’t happen magically–they are learned. Teach them early and you’ll enjoy a much more pleasant experience in public with your children.

4. Expose them to diversity. Create a life for your children in which they are regularly exposed to things they wouldn’t normally see in your own home. Let them rub shoulders with all sorts of people and places. Feed them foreign food. Fumble through books in foreign languages. Make it normal to know people who eat those foods and speak those languages. The same goes for people who look or act or believe differently. You are their parent and it’s up to you to help them interpret and understand those differences. But, the differences should not be a novelty to them.

5. Let nothing be taboo. Instill in your children, from the very start, an open door policy. Answer your child’s questions with age-appropriateness, but honesty. Don’t make up fake “kid words” for sex or anatomy or other difficult issues. You don’t have to give a complete philosophy or science or sex ed lesson every time an issue comes up, but don’t shoot down an honest question. Answer simply when they’re young (they’ll be happy with simple answers) and then your answers will get more complex as they grow and mature. This includes questions about culture, death, sex, disabilities, alcohol, etc.

6. Turn off the television. Seriously. Turn it off. Especially when your children are young, let tv, phone, and computer use be a treat, not a staple of family entertainment. Cancel cable and buy some more books.

7. Model proper behavior and attitude. Do you want a child who respects others? Who speaks kindly? Who shares generously? Who controls her emotional responses? Then you’d better model that behavior for her in the way you interact with your spouse, your parents, strangers, and her. BTW, this includes the way you speak about people–not just to them. Good luck trying to rid your preteen daughter of her snotty attitude if you let her get away with it when she was five, especially if you speak to her father the same way.

8. Say more than, “I love you.” Say it more than you think you need to, more than they probably need to hear. Tell your children you enjoy them, you appreciate them, you are proud of them. Tell them you noticed when they followed instructions or did something great for their sister. Tell your daughter she’s beautiful, but don’t praise her too much for physical things or she’ll think it’s her job to remain beautiful to you. Tell your son how happy you are for him when he wins the big game, but remind him that you’d love him even if he had lost. Teach them about both unconditional love and love that makes them better by encouraging them when you notice them growing and changing.

9. Never take too much credit or too much blame for your children. I can’t remember who shared these wise words with me, but it was sound advice. If your kids are simply fabulous and someone praises you for making them so fabulous, be thankful and gracious but don’t take all the credit. The second you start to take all the credit for having a great kid, he’s sure to sucker punch a stranger. And, if your kid is more the type who sucker punches strangers, be apologetic and tackle the issue at home, but don’t kill yourself over it. In the end, children make their own decisions about whether or not they’ll take your advice and instruction. Some kids respond better than others to consequences. To a certain extent, you can only do what you can do. Your children will always be your responsibility, but they aren’t really your fault.

10. Let them play. This might seem obvious, but I think it’s important to note how important it is that children be allowed to direct their own play. Encourage creativity and exploration, even if it gets “dangerous” sometimes. Take your kids outside and let them go off the path–alone. Let them make up their own games. Allow them to use boxes, sticks, straws, and rocks for things other than what they were intended for. Give them space to be kids. Watch over them when they’re young, but don’t feel the need to play with them. They probably don’t need you. If they want you, they’ll ask.

Paring my “Essential Rules” down to only 10 was no small task. I’ve left out an awful lot.

What would you add?

My Mother’s Day Article That Never Was

~ ejmcewan ~ Leave a comment

A few months back, I received an email from someone looking to interview a mother living downtown. She was writing an article for Her Cincinnati‘s issue about different Cincinnati neighborhoods, the women who live there, and what their lives are like. Always happy to wave the flag of urban parenting, I responded right away and, over the next few days, she and I engaged in an email interview.

Sadly, a few weeks before the article was set to publish, the magazine was kicked to the curb and the article never ran. There was talk about it being passed to a Mother’s Day issue of CityBeat, but that never came together.

Amanda, the woman who interviewed me, gave me permission to cut & paste the interview here on my blog.

Just for kicks- this is a bit of what you might have read, had the article been published:

1) Where do you live?

Orchard St., Over-the-Rhine

2) How many people are in your family, including pets?

My husband, myself, and two kids–Israel, a 4 year-old boy; Elsa an 18m-old girl. (Update: Elsa is now 21m-old and we’re expecting another baby girl in September.) No pets. We’re going to add a few more kids before we venture into animals. (Oh! And we’ve talked about backyard chickens.)

3) Describe your house (number of bedrooms, bathrooms, yard,and what you deem as the most important rooms)

Our home is a 1890’s italianate 2-story detached rowhouse with an unfinished basement and a finished attic. It was gutted after a fire around 1980 and then rehabbed in a few phases between then and now. So, unlike some of our neighbors, it’s neither a historic-quality renovation, nor a modern hip living space. It’s a bit of a hodge-podge that we are slowly working to personalize. After the fire, the kitchen was moved to the second floor and the first floor was cleared out to use as a workspace/shop while the owner was rehabbing multiple properties at once. Now, the majority of the first floor is a large “library” that we use as an entertaining space and for hosting events like house concerts. There are three bedrooms, and three bathrooms—one on each floor. We have a small yard, with the potential for off-street parking, but we are working to renovate it into an outdoor playspace with (eventually) a small edible garden. We spend the majority of our at-home time on the second floor, between the kitchen and what should be the master bedroom (which we use as our informal living room).

4) Where/how does your family eat meals? What percentage is homemade vs take out?

The kids and I eat most meals at home or, during warm months, outside. My husband brings a bag lunch to work most days. We eat all dinners together as a family, most of them at home and homemade. We eat dinner out once or twice a week.

5) Where do you shop or purchase food?

I run many errands on foot, in smaller trips. I get groceries at the OTR Kroger or the Avril-Bleh market if it’s something last-minute. We frequent Findlay Market–especially Madison’s–during the week (when it’s less crowded) for bread, deli items, eggs, and produce. I get a delivery of fresh, organic produce from Green BEAN Delivery every other week and own a herd share for local, raw milk which is delivered, as well. (Update: our herd share was recently cancelled and I’m shopping around for another one.) For bigger trips, I drive to the new Target or Kroger just across the river. It’s only about 5 minutes from downtown. I also make a monthly run around town bargain shopping at places like Big Lots.

6) How long have you lived where you live and why do you continue to live there?

We have lived in OTR since we got married five years ago. Our first apartment was an industrial loft space on Vine St.; We bought this house about 2.5 years ago.

Why are we here? Many reasons. This neighborhood is a part of our history together. My first job in Cincinnati was in OTR. We met in the neighborhood–seven years ago–and got married downtown. When we got married, both of our jobs were downtown. We believe in this city. We love the history, the architecture, and the particularities of Cincinnati. Also, ideologically, we believe that the health of a city depends on the strength of its urban core. So, we are committed to helping it thrive. What better way to show our commitment than to actually invest in living here?

As a mother, I value the urban lifestyle and what it offers my children. Urban living is not always “easy,” by modern American standards, where we’re accustomed to getting everything we want quickly, conveniently, in once place, and with a drive-up window. But, once we adjust to a more pedestrian life, the convenience of urbanism becomes undeniable. In one single summer morning, I can take my son for a haircut from “Mr. Frank,” pop in somewhere for a cup of coffee, drop a package in the mail, let my kids dance to some music on Fountain Square, buy my husband a new pair of socks, grab a bag full of new library books, picnic at Washington Park, and be home by naptime–all on foot. And when we get tired of the city, we hop in our car for a quick trip to a nearby forest preserve or park for a long hike.

On a more personal level, we are a pretty conservative family, so living in the city balances us out in a way that a suburban lifestyle may not. The city is healthy for us, constantly challenges us, and gives us endless opportunities to rub shoulders with awesome people we would not otherwise know (neighbors, business owners, artists and artisans, kids at the park, etc). We may not live here forever, but it’s best for us in this season of our family life.

7) Where did you grow up?

I grew up in the south suburbs of Chicago, went to college in Elgin, IL, and then moved to Cincinnati almost eight years ago.

8) Are you at stay-at-home mom? Furthermore, how do you divvy up housework/childcare?

When my son was born, I went down to working 15 hours a week for the nonprofit Keep Cincinnati Beautiful, so I’m a “mostly” SAHM. On days when I work, we have in-home childcare.

In general, I handle most of the housework and do the grocery shopping and cooking. My husband has a job that is very physically demanding, so I let him take it easy when he’s home. But, I’m a pretty miserable housekeeper so he helps make up the difference, especially when we’re expecting guests. Also, as a contractor, he can do all sorts of home maintenance that I cannot (which is very helpful in an old house). We are both very active in parenting our children, but I am their primary caretaker–i.e. it’s my job to make sure they have clean clothes for the morning.

9) If you had to trade places with another family in the country/rural area for a week, what do you think some of the challenges would be?

We have some friends who are renting a large farmhouse on a few secluded acres in Mt. Washington. I’d like to trade places with a family like that and have some quiet and privacy for a little while. But, I wonder if it would be lonely and isolating. I’ve also really grown accustomed to the noise and busy-ness of the city, so being in the suburbs now seems eerily silent, dark and kind of scary to me. It would take some time for me to get re-acclimated. I would also hate having to get in my car to run even the smallest errand.

10) Your age as of April 1, 2013:

30.

And, then, the follow-up questions:

11) How many children do you see yourselves having?

We’ll have at least one or two more.

12) What about your children’s education? Homeschool, public, private, Montessori, Waldorf, etc…?

We’re going to homeschool our children using a hybrid Classical and Charlotte Mason model. We believe strongly in the high value of home-based education. But, were we to choosing standard schooling, Cincinnati Public has a lot of options for parents in our area. Many other downtown kids attend Fairview German School in Clifton or the SCPA. Both schools are great. There is also a contingent of local parents pushing CPS to establish the  Rothenberg Academy as a high-ranking, competitive school that will draw more young families to the area.

13) What would you say to someone who says “Well, isn’t OTR a dangerous place to raise a family?”

I could say a lot about the whole issue of “safety” as it pertains to parenting young children but, basically, I would say that no child is really “safe.” Never. Nowhere. With no one. If you believe that because you live in a place where every house looks like yours, everyone dresses like you, you all drive similar cars, and your bank accounts hold the same amount of money, your kids are necessarily “safer” you are fooling yourself. I don’t say this to be harsh, only to point out that danger comes at children from all angles. Depending on where you live, the dangers will be different, but no less scary. I think I’m pretty reasonable about the dangers of city life, never negligent, but not overbearing. Many families have gone before us and raised wise, competent children in cities around the world and I’ve learned a lot from reading stories about other families struggling through the same urban issues.

Living in the city may require more attention on my part, more oversight, and a more watchful eye while my children are young. But it would be more dangerous for me to live in a “nice neighborhood” where the perceived safety gave me a false sense of security. I grew up in a nice, suburban area. And so I know what goes on behind closed doors, in basements and backyards at those houses and with those kids. “Bad people” are everywhere. We don’t talk much about the prevalence of alcoholism, chemical dependency, suicide, bullying, physical and sexual abuse, and parental negligence in the suburbs because it’s done in secret. But, you cannot hide in the city. And, as a parent, that’s actually reassuring. At least we know what we’re fighting here. We are blessed to live on a fantastic street with great neighbors who know each other, communicate well about what’s going on around us, and help each other out. So, from our angle, it’s easy to see that there are plenty of “good people” everywhere, too.

As for our neighborhood specifically: In OTR, if you are not buying or selling drugs (or sleeping with someone who is), you are about million times less likely to be the victim of a violent crime. The average car ride is much more dangerous than minding your own business, walking down a city street. In simple terms, it’s much more likely that another child would be injured in a car accident during the 30-minute trip to his soccer practice than my child being mugged around the corner for his pocket change. I can’t give you the statistics on that, but I’d put money on it.