With home schooling and social distancing in full effect, kids are left wondering what exactly coronavirus is and when they will be able to go back to school. Last night Kristen Bell hosted a special Nickelodeon Town Hall. The hour-long special answered young people’s questions about the coronavirus pandemic.
Bell virtually connected with medical experts to offer tips on social distancing, ways to keep safe and healthy, and fun activities to enjoy at home.
Celebrity guests joined Bell through video conferencing including Josh Gad, Ellen DeGeneres, Alicia Keys, Ciara and Russell Wilson. Keys performed her song “Underdog” during the broadcast. “Music is so powerful. It brings us together,” she shared. Sometimes challenges do the same thing. They show us who we are, what we’re made of. And there’s nothing we can’t get through when we do it together. So, I want to dedicate this song to us, for defying the odds.”
At the end of the broadcast, Bell acknowledged the uncertainty some may be feeling. “This is weird,” she said. “We’ve never experienced anything like this, not in your lifetime, not in mine, not even in my mom’s. Yes, the world has hit a reset button, but resetting isn’t all bad. We’re being forced to look at the world and our friends and our family with more love and more gratitude. I think I needed a little reset on that. I think maybe we all did.”
If you missed the special, you can watch it on YouTube or Instagram.
Well, kids…it has been an interesting time to be alive. That is. for. dang. sure. When COVID-19 first made the news I wasn’t too worried. I thought it was only a few cases and far away! In China! I was glad that we weren’t still living in Shanghai, but I thought it was contained and not very worrisome. And then it started popping up in the United States. I grew worried.
I went last week to Miami where I met with my surgeon. She looked over the labs that I get every other month and noticed that my Vitamin A, E, D & Iron were low. This was frustrating because I thought that all of my levels were normal but she found some labs that were not included in my online database. Because I have short-bowel syndrome my body has a hard time absorbing nutrients from a diet a person with all of their small intestine would have. I probably only get about 1/2 the nutrients you get. My food digests in my system in about 12 hours whereas the normal person takes 24-72 hours. Don’t tell me how I know this, but it involves corn and I’ll just leave it at that.
So why do I tell you this? Due to my condition, my immune system is compromised. In the past two years, I have been hospitalized 19 times and have had about 15 surgeries/procedures. I have had pneumonia three times and various infections due to my body having a low level of resistance to viruses and bacteria.
At my appointment, I told the receptionist that I had a lingering cough. No fever and no body aches just a cough. They led me to a small tent outside of the entrance where they monitored me for 20 minutes taking my blood pressure and temperature frequently. I was surprised but it was also reassuring that they were doing what they could to prevent the spread of the virus.
I asked my Doctor how she felt about the virus and if I should be worried. She looked at me and nonchalantly said, “Well for you, this would kill you.” She’s a peach, let me tell you. She really gives you the warm and fuzzies.
In the news, you have read that the people that are most at-risk are people that are old and those who have underlying health conditions. This is me. I am that person. I am the one that would get this virus and I would not be able to fight it. I have been in that hospital, I have been on that ventilator. I have had a 106.7 fever and I have been so depleted I could not find a reason to live. BUT through countless prayers, fasts and therapy sessions I have found that reason. My family. They are what is the most important and I want to be here on earth to see Samantha finally learn how to tie her shoes, I want to see Preston using complete sentences. I want to be there for my kids for every break-up, wedding and school dance they go to.
I am the reason that you are staying at home. I am the reason why you are homeschooling your children. I am the reason why you are now forced to work on a laptop while sitting on a bed. I am the reason that you have been forced to play Candy Land for the 986th time today. You are isolating yourself because you want to save me, and I adore you for it. I have been able to see many beautiful things during this isolation period. A neighbor posted on the Facebook page that she would run errands for those who are compromised. Beautiful. A sunset that I enjoyed because I had to go outside to get fresh air. Beautiful. The nurses and doctors who show up to work not knowing if they will come into contact with the virus but to save people on a daily basis. Beautiful. A man in Spain was leading a rooftop jazzercise class that people could join in by looking out their windows and following along. Beautiful. People are sharing their talents by providing kids online resources for free. Beautiful. Celebrities are taping themselves reading children’s books and posting them online. Beautiful. In Paris, people open their windows and applaud medical professionals for keeping them safe. Beautiful. My neighborhood is having everyone draw sidewalk chalk masterpieces so that children can go on a scavenger hunt on their walk. Beautiful. This morning I sat and played LEGOS with my kids because we didn’t have anywhere to be. Beautiful.
If this isolation has taught me anything it has taught me to be still. To be present with my children. To prioritize and assess the needs of my family. I encourage us to spend this time to relax. The world is becoming increasingly distracted and busy. Be still. Have a diet coke. Take a nap. Watch too much Netflix. Play that board game you haven’t opened since getting it at Christmas. Bake the cake. Read the book. Do these things because you care and you want to help. And wash your hands while you’re at it!
So please, I beg you, stay home. Protect me. Protect Grandma Sally. Protect Shannon who is fighting cancer. Protect Danny who has type 2 diabetes. Protect Gina who has a heart defect. Do it for us. Old Navy can wait.
Hi, i'm Cat! We live in Orlando, Florida where my husband works for Mickey Mouse (no, really). We have two kids, Samantha (5) & Preston (2). I suffer from a chronic illness called Short Bowel Syndrome. My ramblings are dedicated to travel adventures, nap time confessions and my medical journey. Cheers!
I did not vote in the primary election. Please put your pitchforks down, figurative or not.
I tried. I really, really tried.
Between herding two little kids, ages 8 and 4, running our household, and all the other endless little tasks that make being a stay-at-home mom the most unrecognized superhero of all time, I failed my civic duty.
“It was poor planning,” I texted my husband, then to help express my feelings, I added a sad face emoji. But really the feeling behind the little yellow face with the upside-down smile was a feeling of being an abject failure.
Of all the tasks on my to-do list on Super Tuesday, voting was probably third, behind feeding and connecting with my family. I carried my sample ballot with me in my giant mom purse. It was nestled between the 40 bandages for boo-boos, the emergency granola bars to calm hangry meltdowns, and the book I have been reading for the last year. I am on page 10.
I crammed for the primary election like it was finals week in college. I quickly read the candidates’ statements and the ballot initiatives. Then I looked up endorsement articles like they were Spark Notes telling me how to think. Lastly, when still undecided—I’m just going to put it all out there—I looked at the political party as a tie-breaker.
I did this between school drop-offs, pick-ups, endless errands, appointments, and extracurricular activities. I really wanted to check that box on Super Tuesday.
And I wanted to involve my kids.
My first-born son has been coming to vote with me since he could toddle alongside the little corral in the basketball gymnasium. At our first election experience as a family of three, our little guy was knee-high, shaking the leg of the table while my husband tried to fill out the right dot, then he was waist-high peering over the table while I voted with one hand and held his baby sister in the other.
For the longest time, the “I voted” stickers was the piéce de résistance for my kids, worn like badges of honor while they played in the park after enduring the silence and stillness of the polling place. Now 8 years old, my son passes his sticker to sister’s eager hands. He is more interested in learning about the candidates, the issues, and which way I voted.
So on Super Tuesday, I waited until after I picked them both up from school to go vote.
Our voting center is within walking distance from our house in the suburbs of Los Angeles. It is located in a basketball gymnasium where my son first learned to make a jump shot. Usually, we walk right in and get swallowed up by the 10 poll workers looking for anything to do.
This Super Tuesday, the line of people snaked around the entire perimeter of the gym and out the door.
“Wow,” my 8-year-old exhaled. “This is like Disneyland.”
Except at the end of the line, there is no promise of a thrilling ride. Just a sticker.
The lines symbolized something bigger, right? Voters were galvanized to make their voices heard. Go, democracy!
This is all great unless you have young kids, who ate the emergency granola bars in the first 10 minutes in line. My 4-year-old sang and danced all the songs from “Frozen 2” then we all played “I Spy” until I am sure we ran out of things to spy.
“I don’t know how much longer we can wait here,” I texted my husband, who was stuck at work. “Maybe someone will roll out a TV with cartoons.”
No such luck.
Ahead of me were moms in similar duress. Little kids, whose little bodies were not built to stand in long lines, were falling apart. Threats were hurled. Then slowly, moms started dropping like flies.
One little boy stood on a bench and jumped down on top of his little brother like a professional wrestler. Their mom connected eyes with me as if to say, “That’s it!” And they left.
And after 45 minutes of pretending to be the mysterious voice from the enchanted forest in “Frozen 2,” my daughter said she was hungry and she didn’t care about voting anymore.
We were only halfway to the front of the line, so I called it, too. The voting center was open until 8 pm. We will walk home, have dinner and come back. Surely, the line would be shorter, right?
No such luck.
The line was out the door and down the sidewalk by the time we came back. People were standing with the slumped shoulders posture of defeat. As we walked up, my daughter slapped her brother in the back, yelled, “You’re it!” and ran off full speed until she slipped and fell.
She howled in a way that told me even 40 bandages wouldn’t do. That’s when I knew voting was not going to happen.
“Why is voting so hard?” my 8-year-old asked.
It’s a good question. News stories from the “LA Times” continue to come in about long lines, and glitches in the new voting system. I was not the only one.
Watching the poll results come in without my vote was surreal. It made me wonder if the other mothers who were forced to leave because of the long wait were able to cast their ballots.
I could have voted earlier. I should not have forced the issue of making it an experience with my kids, but in the end, it was not my fault. A voting system that doesn’t make it easy for mothers with young children to vote is a broken system.
The presidential election is eight months away. That’s plenty of time to fix it.
So the next time a mom says she did not vote, spare your judgment. Just give her a hug. Her kid might have body-slammed his little brother in line while she tried her hardest to perform her civic duty.
Lynda is a creative person, a wife, a mom and half a CrossFit athlete. Just half, because rope climbs suck. Despite the shiny veneer, the cracks in her identity make her marginally okay.
Carmen Sandiego has a new mission, and she needs your help! Netflix is adding a Carmen Sandiego special to its lineup of viewer-controlled episodes. In the 45-minute special, Carmen Sandiego: To Steal or Not to Steal, kids get to decide what happens as Carmen (Gina Rodriguez) finds herself forced to steal for the instructors at her former crime school, V.I.L.E.
Carmen’s friends, Ivy and Zach, have been captured and if she wants to rescue them, she has to follow V.I.L.E.’s commands.
Carmen Sandiego: To Steal or Not to Steal hits Netflix on March 10.
Working parents have a lot on their minds between balancing work and family life. They often face the difficult choice between wanting to take on more at work and the disappointment at home when their job takes priority over family events. According to a new study by Bright Horizons, since they are fearful of career-impacting repercussions, they believe they still can’t be transparent about family responsibilities.
The report reveals that over half of working parents admit that they have needed to sneak out of work to take care of family commitments because they couldn’t be honest with their colleagues.
“We think as a society we are progressing in the workplace, but the data from the Modern Family Index tells a different story. It is clear that more progress is needed. Employers need to support working parents and create work environments in which all employees feel comfortable being honest and transparent about their family obligations,” says Bright Horizons Chief Human Resources Officer, Maribeth Bearfield. “There are some easy strategies employers can adopt to help alleviate stress, mental load, and burnout and improve workplace culture. Especially in a tight talent market, employers need to be doing as much as they can to attract and retain working parents.”
The study shows that employee burnout is at an all-time high. Employers may pay the price without a supportive work atmosphere that enables everyone to be successful in the workforce. According to the survey, employees will walk out the door if things don’t improve or they will risk facing burnout.
Bearfield said, “The collective impact of being stretched thin at work while facing continued disappointment at home is forcing parents to leave their jobs in search of workplaces that are more in tune with modern priorities. It is time for all employers to focus attention on the needs of their workforce or risk being left behind in the war for talent.”
Dress-up is a creative way to play that allows kids to express themselves and take on different roles, and it shouldn’t have to be limited to specific genders. The Boys Can Be Princesses Too project proves that gowns aren’t just made for girls.
Photographer Kitty Wolf has started an inspiring movement and what started as a simple photo series of boys dressed up as princesses has quickly gained attention online. “My goal was just to show the world that boys like this exist. Boys who like princesses and want to play as them the same way girls do.” Wolf told Red Tricycle, “Society seems to have no problem when girls play as male superheroes, like Thor and Iron Man, but lots of people get offended to their very core if a boy wears a princess dress.”
Wolf was initially inspired to start the photo project thanks to one of her preschool students. “He was playing pretend as a princess and two of his female classmates told him, ‘Boys can’t be princesses; princesses are for girls!’ and I thought, ‘princesses are for everyone!'” Wolf explained. “He was having such a blast playing as a princess, who are any of us to stop him?”
She was also encouraged when she met a boy who loved to dress up as Elsa. At the time, she was running a princess party company and was hired to do a party for him. Wolf said, “Meeting him and seeing that he loved Elsa (and wearing her dress!) the same as any of the girls we visited really hammered in the idea that boys can and do like being princesses too!”
Wolf’s hope is that some day kids won’t be forced into specific gender roles and that they’ll be free to play however they want. While she has faced some backlash for her project, she has also gotten plenty of positive response. “Many comments have been from people that said a project like this would have helped make them feel less alone growing up and THAT is what I hope to accomplish,” Wolf says, “If one child sees these pictures and feels better about themselves, then it’s all been worth it.”
Most people laugh when they see me come to the door wearing bright yellow (or sometimes purple) rubber gloves. I walk around the house wearing them too. I don them for obvious things like washing dishes—but if they only knew the half of it. My need for clean changed after becoming a parent, but rubber gloves have helped me keep my sanity and given me the courage to touch the untouchable. I live with four boys, a husband and a beagle who likes to partake in eating her own poop; no further explanation needed.
When you first become a parent, you know things will change but the things you are forced to clean is a rude awakening. It’s not just the fact that you must vacuum multiple times a day because your new crawler will consume anything in her path including dust bunnies, it’s all the other things, such as the more disgusting unmentionables like the sheer amount of poop you will encounter that, quite shockingly, doesn’t always end with babyhood.
Therefore, I keep my trusty yellow rubber gloves not just under the kitchen sink but stashed in every bathroom—and especially the laundry room—because I never know what I will be forced to touch or clean at any given moment.
This has what my BFF (the rubber glove) has given to me:
The Courage to Touch Anything!
I consider myself a new type of parental superhero whose special power is the rubber glove. A headless mouse in the basement brought in as a present from kitty? Gloves! Your kid barfs all over his comforter at 3 a.m.? Gloves. Dog barf on the floor? Gloves please! Rectal suppository? Those require medical disposable gloves which I have too, but I digress. Parenthood brings many new and totally gross experiences.
Handle Poop Crime Scenes with Aplomb
Any parent will not need an explanation for this. We had one particularly memorable (and bad) one just steps away from an elegant wine and cheese party we were hosting in our dining room when my twins were newly toilet trained. It was so bad that I had to put a hastily written sign on the door “Out of Order” and direct guests to our upstairs bathroom because my son managed to get poop on every surface of the entire room. “Oh yes, please go ahead and have more Brie and that smell? I think it’s the Gorgonzola!”
Laundry Horrors No More
No one can fathom the central place laundry will hold in your life when your kids arrive on the scene. It’s like a rapidly reproducing beast. Gone are the days of doing one or two loads a week. Ha! My preemie twins had terrible reflux that no medication helped so for the first year of their lives, they wore bibs 24/7 which were always soaked with barf. Gloves please! I also once found a dead snake in the pile of dirty laundry on the floor and I have no idea where it came from, (most likely our cats?). After kids, laundry is never safe to touch without gloves.
Face the Netherworld Under Furniture
Before kids, I would pull out the couches and chairs and give a good vacuum maybe a couple of times a year max and that was just dust bunnies or an occasional tissue or coin. After kids? All the time. I’ve found moldy apple cores, petrified Cheerios, errant jelly beans from Easter 10 months ago and more. And if you don’t get to it first, your little ones will and try to shove it into their mouths. I refuse to even look under any furniture without donning my gloves first.
Look Closely Inside the Car
Another breeding ground of disgustingness thanks to the kids. A place I normally cleaned and vacuumed maybe with the change of seasons before I had kids. Old French fries, used tissues, party favor bags with melted candy and more—gloves go with me there too. You might as well keep a pair in your glove box!
Parenting is messy work, but someone’s gotta do it… and thank God for rubber gloves. What else do you use your trusty rubber gloves for?
Laura Richards is a writer and mother of four boys including a set of identical twins. She has written for The New York Times, The Washington Post, Redbook, Good Housekeeping, Woman's Day, Martha Stewart Living, Reader's Digest and many more.
Sara Blakely may be the genius creator and CEO behind Spanx—but that’s not all. The multitasking mama recently proved she (like many other working moms) can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan and apparently take a mid-vacation conference call in car filled with her kiddos.
Blakely recently posted an oh-so-familiar story on LinkedIn. The CEO/mama was on a Florida vaycay with her husband and four kids, driving a rental car, when she got an important work-related call.
The working mom wrote, on LinkedIn, “I had to pull off the side of the road for a conference call. No pen. Lip liner will have to do!” Blakely continued, “Of course, I had everything in my purse (two small cars, a flashlight, diapers, wipes, snacks, army men, and even Buzz Lightyear), but NO PEN! And, my meeting ID number and host code kept changing… “Mommy, why are you writing on your leg when you told us we can’t write on ourselves?”
Of course, Blakely knows she’s not the only working mother to experience this type of comedic mishap. She went on to add, “The struggle is real. The juggle is real. This is why everyone should hire working mothers. They are put in crazy situations all the time and are forced to problem-solve. They are some of my most resourceful employees.” We totally agree!
Get ready for an all new IHOP experience. The iconic pancake eatery recently announced plans to launch a brand-new fast-casual restaurant called Flip’d!
The quick and casual chain will have a Build Your Own Pancake Bar, made-to-order breakfast burritos and bowls, Ultimate Sandwiches, grab-and-go salads, wraps, and so much more.
Jay Johns, President of IHOP said in a press release, “After talking extensively with consumers in large cities across the country, we designed Flip’d by IHOP to deliver on what folks told us they want and need from a trusted brand like IHOP in a fast-casual setting, putting an emphasis on quality ingredients, speed, to-go and delivery.”
Johns also added, “Today, millions of Americans are settling for sub-par breakfast foods that are either microwaved or have been sitting under a heat lamp because they’re forced to grab something while at their usual coffee spot. With Flip’d by IHOP, guests don’t have to compromise—now they can get freshly-made, all-day menu items like Pancake Bowls and Egg Sandwiches along with a hand-crafted espresso beverage for a good price and in a matter of minutes.”
Unlike traditional IHOPs, visitors to Flip’d eateries can either order from digital kiosks or staffed counters. You can also order online and either pick-up your items from a to-go area or get your pancakes, eggs and other meal-time goodies delivered.
The first Flip’d will open in Atlanta next April. Expect Flip’d to hit NYC, Washington, D.C., Denver and San Francisco markets in 2020.
We had a miscarriage in February 2019 around 10/11 weeks. It was surprising and devastating, to be honest. I know that the statistics are 1:4 women suffer this loss, but I never thought that I would be in the group of “ones.”
Now here I am 28 weeks pregnant with our second baby boy, due February 8, 2020. The irony of the timing is not lost on me.
I know that a lot of women call their baby after a loss, a “rainbow baby.” Many companies have even sold rainbow baby-themed products. However, the phrase just doesn’t resonate with me, though. I get it, it’s a rainbow after a storm. It’s life after a death. That’s a great outlook! That’s just not my outlook.
I want to celebrate this baby because of his own unique life, not put the memory of a loss attached to him. All babies are miracles. Not just ones that come after a loss. Everything about this pregnancy and baby is special because HE is special. Not because of his pregnancy or birth order. I never want him to grow up thinking that his life isn’t just as wanted and prayed for as our other kids.
My husband and I will never forget the baby that we lost, but I feel like that is our grief to carry, not one to put on our kids who don’t know anything about it. In a way, I feel like that’s forcing negative emotions on them that can’t be processed because they weren’t a part of the situation. I won’t hide our story from our kids, but I also will not call any of my kids our rainbow baby. They are all our miracle babies!
Ariel is a stay at home mom to a very curious two year old with another baby on the way! Some of her favorite things (besides her husband and son) are lemon water, exploring Louisville, and writing about real life! Connect with Ariel on Instagram: @intentionallyariel
