Rich Tobin works in sales for our Workplace Solutions team. He has two daughters who he wanted to connect with more. I love this post because it has a "Lean In" message too – how can we raise confident, female leaders? Rich has some ideas.

My daughter used to be attached at my side. She would sit in my lap, eat from my plate, cuddle with me on the couch. All she wanted to do was spend time with me. Now, at age 9, we had a great relationship but I realized that there was an entire side of her life that I knew very little about. Everyday she went off to school and had a life all her own that I did not get to see. How did she respond to her friends? What was she like on the playground and in class?

She was growing up so fast.

So when the town needed a lacrosse coach for her team, I decided this was my chance. I would coach my daughter and her friends in a game I played 20 years ago. I also saw this as a chance to build her competitive spirit. As someone in business, and a father of two girls, I want to make sure I’m raising strong leaders. Women who won’t back down to a more aggressive classmate, or colleague. Women who will stand up for their ideas and figure out ways to work with teams. I wanted to help build this next generation of working women – one girls’ lax team at a time.

So there they stood. The girls’ third and fourth grade lacrosse team. Some with tags still on their sticks. All looking at me as if I knew what I was doing. My only hope was that my daughter was proud of her new team’s coach.

Now, my background is in sales. I can talk to anyone and genuinely enjoy people. But forget managing teams or dealing with fussy customers -- getting 25, eight and nine year old girls to learn a new sport should be a requirement for every MBA program.

My goal: Get each one to love being part of a team and playing lacrosse. Forget about winning. Work together, but challenge each other. Have no fear of being aggressive. Have no qualms about leading I wanted to find a way each one of these ladies could take charge of a single moment – forget who they are trying to be – and just be. Yes, I wanted to see my daughter shine. But I realized I wanted to see all of these girls take off in some way.

When we started, these 25 girls barely knew how to throw a ball, let alone pick one up with their sticks. Some didn’t look me in the eyes. Some took charge when I wished they wouldn’t. But I had to keep in mind: This wasn’t about a game, it was about them. So two days a week we would spend time at practice together. We ran sprints. We did drills. We talked and shared game plans. Over and over again. Some days they glared at me. But most days they rallied. I loved seeing kids who did not hang out together at school come together on the field. And as the weeks progressed, I saw real skills develop. And I saw the timid became stronger and more confident.

But the biggest changes I could see were with my daughter. On the way home she’d talk about the game. She strategized with me. Discussing her day was no longer pulling teeth. It was fascinating to hear her thoughts. See the team in her eyes. We’d share what the team did right and what needed to be fixed. We discussed line changes and improvements we saw.

I was connecting with my amazing little girl again. And she really understood how much her opinion mattered to me.

In the end, we had some wins and some losses. I’ll never forget the first time our team won a face-off, completed three passes without dropping the ball and scored a goal. That day, I came home thinking I was the world’s best coach. But the truth was, it was never about the games, it was about getting to know my daughter at this new age. Knowing her friends, seeing her interact, learning that her world is way more complex than I knew, watching her fall in love with a sport, and bonding with her on a new level. And I could only hope the parents of the other kids were seeing something new in their daughters' eyes. I hoped they were seeing their daughters take charge of more at home, being more confident in their decisions, opening up to them as a team – and I hoped they were encouraging it.

One coach and one season isn’t going to make a world of difference. But it’s a start. I saw my daughter grow from kid to budding leader, from silliness to decision maker. And for her, I know she sees that I made an effort. An effort to get to know her and to grow closer to her. But it was even more than that. She and I became our own team. And that was the only win I needed.

I’ve already signed up for next year.

In honor of Mother’s Day, I want to show you a beautiful letter a Care.com employee, Gina wrote to her mom. Gina works on our Member Care team and manages our employees (mostly moms) who work from home. As a working mother myself, I hope my children feel the same way as Gina one day!

My Dearest Momma,

One day doesn’t seem like enough. One letter, words on a page, doesn’t seem enough. How can I express the gratitude for a lifetime of nurturing love you have invested -- that has literally made me all that I am today? And all that I want my own child to feel one day as well.

This Mother’s Day, I guess all I can do is try. I can try to illustrate just how meaningful all of your hard work has been. Hard Work. Words I know well. So do you. As I mother now, I only have small glimpses into how challenging your life has been. With five mouths to feed. When being a woman mainly meant being domestic. You were determined to contribute to the household - yet you still managed to give us all so much comfort and attention. How?

Now, as a working mother with 1/5 the workload (my gorgeous little 2 year old girl), I think back to when you first started teaching art classes in our home. Eventually, we had a living room packed with your students two to three nights a week. Women from all over came. My friends’ moms came. And you made them feel like true artists. Then you helped them sell their art and make money for their families – from their budding new talent.

Now, I realize why you did this. Now, I see the timing of your art shows lined up perfectly with wanting to buy us back to school clothes and supplies – and wanting to put Christmas presents under our tree.

There may have been times when I wondered why you worked so hard. Why you had to take a call or meet with a student. Why you had to work late. But I get it now.

When I struggle with my own journey as a working mother today, I think back on what you showed me. You knew that you were a fantastic mom and an excellent entrepreneur. You wanted to share your passion for art, and you inspired so many other women around you. You supported our family. And in the end, you showed your children what it means to be a strong, successful working mom.

I hope I can show my daughter the same thing. I work because I love it. I’ve found something that challenges me, fulfills me, and that I know I’m good at. I love that I help to support my family. And this is on top of the love I feel being a Mom. Yes, it’s tough. I miss my amazing, ever-changing sweet girl each and every day. I hate walking out that door. But I love walking into my role here. I love the person I am at home – and at my job. I only hope I can be the role model to my baby that you were to me.

I hope that she feels like she always comes first in my life. I hope she grows up knowing that she can ask for my help with anything. No, I might not have the time to make lunches, go sledding, attend parent-teacher meetings, and help solve homework problems. But I’ll make the time. (How did you do that Mom?) I hope she’ll always feel safe knowing that nothing will come between us, even if I have to travel for work or take a trip to visit girlfriends who live far away. I hope she grows up proud of her Momma for trying to juggle it all, for being a good friend, a hard-working employee, and the best boo-boo kisser on the planet.

But I hope she sees my flaws too. Mom, I know you aren’t perfect. But that was your charm. You worked at being better, and that was perfect to me.

I hope my daughter never accuses me of loving my job more than her. But if she does, I will have to say: Baby, you are my world the way I was my Momma’s world. But you were given a gift, the way I was given a gift. And that gift is your drive to succeed, your compassion for people, your leadership skills. I’ve seen this from the time you were a year old. I work because I love it, but Sweet Girl, there is a difference between the love I have for my projects and the love I have for you. The love I have for work is in my brain and in my paycheck. But the love I have for you is felt deep down in my core. It is who I am – who I became the moment you entered my world. I will always define myself as your Momma first and an employee second. We are connected at the core. And one day, I know you will feel this too.

Happy Mother’s Day, Momma. Thank you for giving me the gifts of being passionate for my work and my family. Thank you for being the role model I needed when I was young – and helping me blaze a trail for what I know my daughter can become. Thank you.

Tell me, what do you appreciate your Mom for this Mother’s Day? What do you hope you pass down to your children one day?


P.S. Here's a fun Mother's Day video for your amusement!

 

Last week, the panic around Boston was felt on a local, national and international level. And as parents of young children, we are faced with an important decision: Do we tell our innocent, happy children this tragic news? Chris Duchesne, our VP of Workplace Solutions discusses the choice he made – and why this was so hard on a personal level.


My kids are lucky.  They don’t really know about ‘bad’ things yet.  They don’t know that bad things happen on bright, beautiful days.  They happen unexpectedly on downright nice days – to nice people.  September 11, 2001 was sunny and clear – by all accounts a gorgeous day.  April 15, 2013, the day of the Boston Marathon was much the same.  It was a great day for a run.

As events of last week’s bombing unfolded I was faced with the same choice as so many other parents – do I tell the kids?  Do I let them watch the news with me?  Listen to the radio?  Would I share with them the sickening feeling the bombings had created in me when I heard about them?  Could I explain that scary things happen while still making them feel safe?  Why would the 3-year-old need to know about it?  Would the 5-year-old even understand, and did she need to?  What was the benefit in that? How many people and places was the 7-year-old going to hear about it from and did I need to preempt them?

It was school vacation week and my 7-year-old was supposed to spend the last half of the week with his grandparents in Boston.  They had plans to go to the circus, the park, breakfast with Papa.  How could I explain to him that he wasn’t going to be able to go to the circus because they hadn’t caught the bombers and I didn’t want to take a chance that the arena would be their next target? He worries.  A lot.  How could I tell him that and feel like he wouldn’t worry about it for weeks, and each time we go into Boston?

I like to run.  My wife and I often run races together, and we always have someone bring the kids to watch us.  When there’s a race in town and we’re not running, we all sit on the sidelines and cheer the runners on.  The kids love to give everyone high-fives as they run by.  I’ve long been hoping that the kids will like to run too – that it will be something we can do together.  So I was excited when my 7-year-old recently announced that he was going to run a 5K and that he wanted to start training.  The day before the marathon, we took him to the track to run a mile.  How was I going to explain to him the next day that someone killed people at a race?  That terrible people had targeted innocent people at a running event.

So I didn’t tell him. I didn’t want to take the chance that he would turn away from running.  That he’d be fearful and worry at each road race.  I didn’t want to ruin it for him.

But I am torn. While I don’t want them to know about the terrible and scary things that bad people can do. I do want them to recognize that what matters, what’s most important, is how we, Americans, react.  We’re people of action.  We help those in need.  We refuse to let bad people scare us.  In fact, bad people make us angry.  We have no tolerance for people that hurt others.  We don’t stand for them.  We pursue them relentlessly, wherever they are and we bring them to justice.  And we don’t let them change what we do. We announce the next day that we will run again next year, in bigger numbers, with even more purpose, louder, prouder.   I want them to know that setbacks happen.  That we – Americans – push on and push through .

As a parent, we’re constantly faced with decisions, and it’s sometimes hard to know whether you’re getting it right.  Maybe it’s because I want to keep my house a "safe-zone" of sadness, panic and worry. Maybe I want to preserve Boston as a safe family destination. Maybe I’m protecting my kids – and myself. But in the end, I chose not to tell my kids.  There will be other opportunities, another time.  For now, I will take pride in our response to the bombings and help my son train for his first 5K.  I have visions that someday he’ll run the Boston Marathon and I’ll be there, proud and unafraid, to meet him at the finish line.

But if one of them hears from a friend – and I realize that I do need to tell them -- I will bring it on their level. I will explain that there were two bad men who hurt people at the Boston Marathon. And they were caught. But that our job is to not let bad people stop us from living our lives – and from doing what we love, which is running. And then I will use the London Marathon as an example of a runner’s unbeaten spirit.

Tell me, did you tell your kids about the Boston Marathon? If so, what did you say? How did they react? Or, are you like me and hoping to keep them innocent and worry-free for as long as possible?

And if you need help talking to your kids about the events, here is an article from Care.com on talking to kids about violent acts.

Valerie is the Director of Service Delivery here at Care.com. She is working on our new senior care product, HomeBase Senior Solutions, in which we try to help seniors age in their homes safely. But she is also a mom of three and the oldest boy just started babysitting-which led to this interesting blog…

My 16-year old son couldn’t clean his room if his life depended on it. He can raid a refrigerator in a blink of an eye. And don’t even get me started on his sweaty, smelly basketball clothes and sneakers.

So I was a little surprised when a close friend recently asked if he could babysit for her 7-year-old son, Matthew.

"Really?" I asked her, almost laughing. "Better have your pantry stocked!" I wanted to add – but held back.

But then in a flash, I saw my son, Justis the way my friend saw him. He’s fun and playful. He’s CPR certified and choke-saver trained. And most importantly, he cares for his 12-year old sister who has special needs and frequent medical challenges that take a toll on all of us. He is patient with her, attentive, loving and capable of crises. He also cares and plays with his 5-year old autistic brother, often creating forts out of living room furniture, or teaching him basketball skills while he practices.

Right, I guess my 16 year old "little boy" (who is also 6’4’’ I should add), is quite responsible and could actually be a really good babysitter. It suddenly made sense – he’d not on ly be a great playmate, but a wonderful mentor and role model.

So I asked him – and he was really interested. He thought it would be "cool" and "fun." Getting paid was an afterthought.

I have to admit that I was nervous on his first night there. I had to prep him: "Clean up after yourself," I prodded. "Make sure you put him to bed on time and don’t just watch TV!" He looked at me like I was crazy. "Mom, do you think I’m not going to take this seriously?!"

I also prepped my friend: "Tell him what you want him to do. Be exact. And write it down," I advised. I wanted her to feel comfortable giving him her own training. That’s what he was there to do: learn.

So on the Saturday night, he went over to their house and my friend showed him where everything was, went through Matthew’s bedtime routine, and reviewed the list of emergency phone numbers.  I, of course kept my cell phone next to me the entire time! (And I promised myself I would only text him once later in the evening to check in.)

They played with Army men. Then Justis fed Matthew dinner, got him ready for bed, read stories, and tucked him in. At one point, Matthew tried negotiating that didn’t need to brush his teeth before bed.  But Justis told him it wasn’t optional and that he would thank him in the future!

So, it was a success. Justis even did his homework until the parents came home. Amazing! And now he wants to try more babysitting jobs. We just launched Teen Care on Care.com where parents can monitor which jobs their teen applies to -- and I might just let him do it!

If only he would start cleaning his room.

Tell me, would you hire a teen to babysit your child? Would you let your teenager babysit?

This is a very funny tongue-in-cheek blog from a lovely friend and co-worker of mine who is being hilariously harsh on herself. Not that any of us need tips lying to our kids… but it’s a great read none the less!

Motherhood has made a liar out of me.

I remember the days when I couldn’t even tell a fib – but now, they just flow trippingly off my tongue.

It starts harmlessly enough: I said "I’ll think about it" when I had no intention of giving it one more thought. I said "You’ll ruin your dinner," to a (probably) harmless snack.

Then it became tricks to get better behavior like "Santa’s watching" and "Better clean up your toys or they’re going in the trash!"

I knew it was bad when I once described the Easter Bunny in elaborate detail to my son, right down to his little vest, glasses and pocket watch.

Don’t judge me, but with three kids I’ve kind of become a lying pro. I’m not proud of this "skill" but what helps me sleep at night is that they are (almost) always for their own good (or mine).  So in case your little ones are seeing through your fibs lately, here’s my tip sheet on how to lie your way to the teenage years (when they start seeing right through you!):

Step 1: Be casual, but specific. Lying is almost a job requirement at the grocery store. With junk food all around you, you’ll have to be inventive and quick on your feet. Those fun-looking cookies? They’re made out of Brussels sprouts. Read the ingredient list to make this seem more realistic. The ice cream truck jingle? That means he’s out of ice cream. Kids are smart, so put on a performance worthy of Anne Hathaway.

Step 2: Don’t be afraid to embellish. Somewhere around the time my son turned 5, broccoli stalks became tiny fairy trees that became magical when eaten.  I also had a crazy irrational fear of him opening the car door on the highway (I suppose I hadn’t heard of the Child Safety feature!). I’m not proud of this one but I told him that pushing random buttons in the car could eject him straight out through the sunroof.  That worked until one day he asked me, why would they put a button like that on the car? And I couldn’t answer. My son also grew up believing that appliances and machines were fickle and unpredictable and that we should all just learn to accept it. The TV only worked on the PBS station. The car only worked when everyone had their seatbelt on.  And batteries for noisy toys were impossibly hard to find.

Step 3: Use your power for good. My son went through a phase where he was afraid of the doctor. So I told him one day that the office needed our help to make a list of what not to do when the doctor came in. He started with the simple things, which I diligently wrote down: Don’t cry when you see the doctor; don’t hide when he comes in. And then we got silly: Don’t jump up and down like a monkey; don’t yank on his stethoscope… By the time the doctor came in we were both laughing and we dropped off the list at the front desk together when we left.

Now that my oldest son is entering his teen years, I am conversely meticulously honest with him. After years of lying, I give it to him straight: The tough news, the hard choices, even the sometimes harsh news about what’s happening in the world. Lying was a way of protecting him from what I thought could harm him.

What worked at five, sadly doesn’t work at twelve. But that’s ok. He’d just see through me anyway.

But I have two 2-year old twins who still believe every word I say!

Tell me: What is the craziest/funniest white lie you’ve ever told your kids? Have you ever been caught? Or, are you completely honest with your toddlers – and how do you do it??

After having this openly honest conversation with my co-workers here, we created this hilarious video, "How to Lie like a Mother." I hope you will watch and share with all your friends!


 

A lot of the parents in our office are signing their kids up for kindergarten this month. But some have decided not to. Jenn, a Provider Specialist responsible for credentialing elder care service providers for our Senior Care Team. Jenn decided to "red shirt" her daughter – and this is why.

"But how does the sperm get to the egg?" my sweet little seven year old asked one recent Monday morning as I hurriedly applied my eye makeup.  "Well, Abby…" I began and carefully explained an extremely watered down version of the birds and the bees before shuffling her back to her bedroom to get ready for school. 

Abby has always been my inquisitive child. She is a smart, serious, and driven girl. She loves math, science, reading, and dreams of being a doctor and singer, as well as the next Gabby Douglas. She is also loving and kind and has a dimpled smile that will melt your heart.

A July baby, Abby was eligible for kindergarten in September 2010, soon after she turned five years old. And, we had every intention of sending her…until something just started to seem "not quite right." Really, it was more of a whisper that kept telling me over and over again that she just wasn’t ready. 

Abby was doing terrific in her second year of preschool. Academically, she was a star.  She followed directions, worked well with others, and was also quite independent. Socially and emotionally, however, a different picture emerged. At the playground with her friends, it seemed as though she didn’t always understand their type of play. Being the tiniest and youngest, her peers would constantly pick her up, as if she were a doll. When playing "house" she was always designated the role of the baby. Potty accidents were kept quiet from her teachers. And during class, her teachers were met with silence when asking her simple questions they were sure she knew the answer to.

I silently struggled with what I thought were typical issues of an introverted four year old and tried to brush them off as nervous chatter. But, when Abby’s teachers began gently questioning her readiness for kindergarten, I knew a decision needed to be made.

In my heart, I knew the right answer, but a slew of questions ran through my mind. How would I explain to Abby that her best friend, who is five days younger than her, is a grade ahead of her?  Would she be bored in kindergarten if she started a year later? What would she think when all of her preschool friends moved on to kindergarten? Would she be teased?

I remember her preschool teachers stressing three considerations which I found immensely helpful when making our decision:

1. They had never met a parent who regretted giving their child an extra year before starting kindergarten. However, they all knew parents who regretted NOT doing so.
2. Rather than being challenged both socially and academically in kindergarten, Abby would be able to focus more on her social and emotional needs her first year. 
3. If she’s socially lagging behind her peers at five years of age, think of how this will play out in middle school, high school and beyond.  

After much debate, many tears, and incredible advice from multiple sources, we decided on a third year of preschool. We have never looked back. A first grader now, Abby has excelled in more ways than one. Academically, she remains a star. She is confident as well as a role model. She leads her friends in play and exerts herself by sticking up for herself and others.  Older kids still like to pick her up, but she tells them to stop now.  

Once in a while, usually after hanging out with her BFF, Abby asks why Claudia is a grade ahead of her. For now, I tell her that different towns have different rules and leave it at that.  Someday, when she’s ready to know the real truth I plan to sit her down and say:

"Love Bug, you are one of the lucky few who got to have an extra year of preschool. Daddy and I feel that this year gave you a boost to become who you are today – a smart, strong, confident girl who will continue to chase your dreams of becoming the next Gabby Douglas or Adele. You might always be the tiniest in your class, my love, but your drive to succeed and your loveable spirit makes you shine brighter than fireworks on the 4^th of July. No, you’re not in the same grade as your best friend, but being one of the oldest in your class might just be the advantage you needed to make every one of your dreams come true."

Tell me, have you had to make this decision -- Or, are you in the process? What made you lean one way or the other?

Here’s a blog that I love from a woman I love even more. Kelly has been part of the Care.com team for almost as long as we’ve existed. As part of our Workplace Solutions team, Kelly helps place Care.com services with companies so employees can use us for free.

I’m sitting on an airplane. I have a three hour flight ahead of me where I’m supposed to do work and all I can think about are my kids. They were both up all night. My 5-year old daughter had a stomach bug and my 3-year old son had Croup. And I was running between them.

Why didn’t I wake my husband? I don’t know.

I got 3 hours of sleep. Most of which was in a toddler bed. And this morning I had to leave for a work trip. So as I kissed their sweet sleeping heads goodbye (why do sick kids always sleep during the day!?) and thanked my mom for being my back-up care, I felt that old beast of a shadow lurking over me again.

It was my Mom Guilt. I’d say she greets me at least once a day, often as I’m trying to be the best mom, wife, daughter, daughter-in-law and employee I can possibly be. And I hate her. She is my nemesis. "They need you" she whispers in my ear. "You’re their Mom," she says in the back of my mind as I get in the taxi and head to the airport.

This time my response was different. This time, I wasn’t taking it. I had to tell this lurking shadow to stop bullying me. This was my inner tirade:

"Back off, Guilt! Don’t tell me how to live my life. Don’t get in my head and make me feel inferior to the other moms in this world. My kids are doing great. My kids are loved and know they’re loved. They have parents and grandparents, friends, family, teachers and babysitters who take incredible care of them. They are thriving. They are sweet, fun, smart and happy. Yes, they’re happy, Guilt. So why do you invade my brain when I leave them on days like this, when meetings run late, when dinner is microwavable, when I have to leave my husband alone with bedtime just so I can get my hair cut, or when I accept favors from my family or SAHM friends  who ‘want to help’?

And why oh why don’t you invade my husband’s brain?

I’ve had ENOUGH of you, Mom Guilt. I’ve had enough."

And then I almost cried. (The poor cab driver!) Not only was I having a therapeutic moment, but I was also realizing that this guilt was me. And would always be me. It’s the inner perfectionist who got me to this place and will continue to strive for perfection, even though she knows it doesn’t exist. It’s the woman who idolizes June Cleaver, Martha Stewart and Sheryl Sandberg and will do whatever she can to be the next female role model for her children and yours.

And while I might try to tame this inner voice that makes me strive to do better next time even when I’m getting a promotion, apologizes to family when they don’t see watching the kids as "childcare" but as "quality time with the grandkids," and feels like a terrible friend and wife even though everyone else is busy too. I will probably always be the one who gets up for vomit and coughing fits. In a way it’s because I want to. It’s also my job -- I’m "Mom." These dark circles under my eyes and stains on my clothes are just the battle wounds from the best job in the world.

So, here’s what I realized on that plane trip: Mom Guilt is my fr-enemy for life. It’s a waste of energy to hate her, so I will follow the age-old advice and "keep my friends close and my fr-enemies closer." But I’ve got to watch my back ‘cause that chick has the power to take me down. If I let her.

Tell me, what would you say to your Mom Guilt if you had the chance?

I want you to meet Stephanie Breedlove, of Breedlove & Associates, now part of the Care.com family. Stephanie and her husband founded this household employment payroll & tax company out of a personal need (wanted to pay nanny taxes) and honestly, I have never met a more engaging tax professional! Here, she shares a real "nanny tax" story every family needs to hear.

During this time of the year, my team hears from many families who have put off key aspects of the household employment process. After being consumed with finding and vetting the ideal nanny, they begin paying her each payday – not realizing there’s more to be done.

We just handled a situation like this for a family in Minnesota. They hired a nanny to care for their two young children last January. Exhausted from a prolonged search and feeling the need to quickly re-focus on their careers, the family hastily got their nanny situated with the kids and went back to work.

The family paid the nanny an agreed-upon wage of $15 an hour for 38 hours per week ($570). They did not withhold any taxes from the nanny's pay or pay any employer taxes. Fast forward to just a few weeks ago, they sat down with their accountant and had to tell him they had paid $29,000 in wages to their nanny during the 2012 tax year.

As you might imagine, this meeting didn’t go very well. The family’s accountant informed them that they had failed to withhold and pay the proper household employment taxes. 

So he sent the family to my team at Breedlove & Associates and we were happy to establish tax IDs for the family, file the overdue quarterly employment tax returns, prepare and distribute a Form W-2 to the nanny, file Form W-2 Copy A with the Social Security Administration and prepare a Schedule H for the family to use with their joint tax return.  Sounds like a lot of work, but we do it all the time!

The point of this story is to alert families that there are some employer obligations.  And, while we can certainly help families play catch-up on their nanny taxes, it’s cheaper and easier to handle them properly at the time of hire.

I realize that nanny taxes are complicated.  As a new mother trying to pay my first household employee "on the books" more than two decades ago, my husband and I learned that the hard way. That’s why we founded our specialty tax agency – to eliminate the work and worry for busy families so they can spend more time with their loved ones.  We’ll be happy to assist your family too. Please take advantage of the free nanny tax resources at www.breedlove.com or give us a call. We’re here to help!

I’d like you to meet Katie. A mom of two preschoolers, Katie is in charge of our site’s articles and resources, and helps create some of our YouTube videos. She is also the Parenting spokesperson for Care.com. Here, she has an interesting take on how real dates versus fake dates.


There was a time when I didn’t believe in Date Night.  Or, I should say, I thought a "date" could be defined as ordering take out and watching a DVD in my PJs. Husband by my side. Kids asleep upstairs.

Sweet, yes. Romantic, hardly.

I don’t know what changed. Maybe it was moving to the suburbs (I needed to get out more!!). Maybe it was having a little bit more money in our budget (or pretending to). Or, maybe it was realizing that eating greasy food in my sweats on both Friday and Saturday nights was not attractive. Yeah, I think it was that one.

So we booked a sitter. And I actually got dressed up – for my husband, and not for work, which I realized was a nice change. Oh, la la. Va va va voom. You get the picture. It was fun.

One year later: Many date nights have been planned. We even have a few sitters on rotation, averaging 2-3 nights out a month. So, I’m in a work meeting the other day and these words actually came out of my mouth: "Date night has saved my marriage." Um, did I just say that? Okay, perhaps it was an exaggeration. My marriage didn’t need "saving." But perhaps my mood did. And I can tell that a date is worth it when I don’t mind shelling out the cash to pay the sitter at the end of the night. She was worth it. Why? I didn’t have to do the bedtime struggle that night. I didn’t have to negotiate vegetable eating or teeth brushing. Instead I laughed and I flirted with my husband.  Yup, she was worth every penny!

So imagine my surprise when I get contacted by Bruce Feiler, author of The Secrets to Happy Families, along with a copy of this new book, and the promotional material on the inside cover of the book says "Cancel date night." Whoa, what?!

So I email the author:

"Bruce, I’m loving the book so far.

[Side note: This was true. There are strategies to make mornings less chaotic; family dinner topics and game ideas; tips on how to fight fair with your spouse -- and an amazing chapter on starting an allowance with your kids that I plan to use when mine are a little older... (but I digress)]

"I’m a working mom of a 4-year old and 2-year old. I live for date night. Plus, I think it’s important that our kids see us devote time to each other [Side note: At least this is what I tell myself.] Why would you suggest canceling it?"

"Katie," he writes, "You should start your OWN blog:  A mom of a 2 and 4 year old who has time to read! There are a few pages on what amounts to cancel the tired-and-out-of-date date night model and replace it with a new-and-improved date night starting on page 158!"

Ahh… the Cliff’s Notes! This author gets better and better. So I promised him I would read the rest of the book but thanked him for the cheat sheet.

Anywho, the book totally backed up my theory that date night is awesome for couples. [A 2012 study from the National Marriage Project showed that couples who have weekly time to themselves are 3.5 more likely to be happy, including sexually happy (thank you page 159!).]

But what it also says is that couples need to mix up their dates a little. He suggests doing an activity like an art class, double dating with other couples, and even going out as a family (mine need to have good table manners, first). The point is to avoid a rut… even a date night rut.

Do you agree? "Like" if you agree that Date Night has helped your marriage or your happiness. And comment if you have other suggestions or feedback. You won’t hurt my mood. I have a date planned for Saturday!

While Jeff C. may be known as the office prankster, he’s also in charge of site analytics around here. But a more important project popped up this year – his daughter, Adelyn. Here, he talks about the stress about being a new dad on Valentine’s Day.

I became a Dad for the first time in November. My goodness, it’s hard! For the past three months I’ve learned how exciting, stressful, disruptive, and beautiful a new baby can be to a house – and to a marriage.  I’ve learned how it can unite us – and still make us feel like we haven’t talked in days.

So I come to you, Care.com readers, seeking advice. See, my wife of 4 years, is also my very best friend of 14 years. And we have always had a pact of never celebrating Valentine’s Day. She hates the holiday. Feels it’s too commercialized. In the past, we haven’t done anything. But this year, I feel we need something.  And I say this, because our dates have been few and far between since our precious and amazing daughter was born. Seriously, when babysitters/family come to help, we seek sleep instead of a nice outing. Or, we run necessary errands. Our last "date night" involved Target, Babies ‘R Us and onesies.

And my wife puts up with so much – mostly from me. While she was in labor, I passed out before the first push. I woke up in time for our daughter Adelyn’s delivery, but we all left the hospital with medical bracelets. I was also covered in poison ivy at our wedding. My wife still has to see me covered in Calamine lotion in all our wedding pictures!

I bring all of this up because I also know that maternity leave is hard. It’s our first baby, and my wife feels a little trapped inside during the coldest of these New England winter days. It’s hard to meet other moms, interact with friends, or get some rest. But I’m the one who gets a ton of compassion after one night, in a sleep-deprived state, I rocked a swaddled bundle of blankets to sleep for over an hour, thinking it was my child, of course! And I get to tell my co-workers that story and feel the new dad sympathy.

But she doesn’t see her co-workers. She doesn’t get a daily affirmation and a daily break. But she does get to see so much more of our daughter, and I know that’s a gift she truly cherishes.

So as I mentioned, we don’t typically celebrate Valentine’s Day, and I think it should be honored this year with a special tribute. Maybe I’ll skip the Thursday celebration which she hates, but get her a massage over the weekend. Tell me what you think: Please "Like" this post if you think that’s a good idea, but post a comment if you have a different suggestion.