Februrary 28 -- Last day of February...that means I have written in this blog for two whole months. In the scheme of things, I would have to say that I guess I am a little impressed with myself. I have no idea where this is heading or if I will be able to maintain this goal but today, for now, I am still writing. And that's all that counts.
Last night, we had eerie visitors in our backyard. Maybe they were in the woods but it sure sounded like they were in our backyard because they were so loud I was completely startled out of a deep sleep. It's definitely getting closer to spring because the nighttime harbingers -- the coyotes -- are starting their hunting or mating or whatever it is that makes them scream and howl in the darkness of the night. And whatever their reasons, I can only say one thing. Listening to their almost human like screams scares the hell out me.
Why is it, I wonder, why do they sound so scary? What kind of purpose is there for their haunting sound? It's almost like they are searching in fury (or joy?!) for their prey or they have found their prey and are celebrating. As I reflect on the reasons for the nighttime passions, I guess it doesn't help that Connor and I have become addicted to watching the re-runs of the 24 series. With the Netflix opportunity on the Wii, we can watch every show from every season. The intensity of that show (we watched 6 episodes yesterday -- yes, that's like four hours of television -- something I rarely do!) combined with the howling coyotes made me feel like I was in the middle of some bizarre movie.
Thankfully the screaming stopped almost as suddenly as it started and Brian and I were able to fall asleep again.
I guess this means spring is coming. But with this morning's ice and delayed school opening, it is really, really hard to believe that this winter will ever be over. I guess it helps to be a coyote. They, for one, have faith that yes, the snow and ice will stop. Someday anyway.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
My Alzeheimer's Idea
February 27th -- I thought of a new idea for my dad today. Well, the idea kind of started a couple of days ago after I had a conversation with my mom. I guess one of the things my father gets the most upset about is his idea that after he dies, nobody will remember anything about him.
I know we could do a video for him to watch but my dad is constantly messing up the remote control and my mother would have no idea how to work a DVD. So I went very simple. I bought a three ring binder with five dividers, one for me and each of my siblings. My idea is that we periodically write a brief memory of something that we remember about my dad. And mail it to him. Truly, the high of his day is when the mail comes. How cool would it be for him to get letters from us. (It's not like my parents have a computer where we can send emails.) So anyway, my mother would put the written memories in the binder under the name of the kid who sent it. And my father could keep the binder right next to his special reading chair for easy access.
I am really excited about this. It would be like his scrapbook of things his children and grandchildren remember about him. And whenever he gets scared that he will be forgotten, my mother can tell him to read his "book."
I hope this works. Even if my siblings don't send him any memories, I can send him tons. I am going to start with my memory from when I was really little, like three or four years old. He would come and get us out of the tub and hold out the towel to wrap us up as we stepped out. As we lifted our legs to climb over the side of the tub, he would tell us to hold onto his ears for support. I remember always being nervous that I would hurt him but he just laughed. "My ears are big enough," he would say, "so just hold on tight!" when I think about that memory, it makes me really love the fact that Riley has his Opa's big ears. The legacy continues...
I know we could do a video for him to watch but my dad is constantly messing up the remote control and my mother would have no idea how to work a DVD. So I went very simple. I bought a three ring binder with five dividers, one for me and each of my siblings. My idea is that we periodically write a brief memory of something that we remember about my dad. And mail it to him. Truly, the high of his day is when the mail comes. How cool would it be for him to get letters from us. (It's not like my parents have a computer where we can send emails.) So anyway, my mother would put the written memories in the binder under the name of the kid who sent it. And my father could keep the binder right next to his special reading chair for easy access.
I am really excited about this. It would be like his scrapbook of things his children and grandchildren remember about him. And whenever he gets scared that he will be forgotten, my mother can tell him to read his "book."
I hope this works. Even if my siblings don't send him any memories, I can send him tons. I am going to start with my memory from when I was really little, like three or four years old. He would come and get us out of the tub and hold out the towel to wrap us up as we stepped out. As we lifted our legs to climb over the side of the tub, he would tell us to hold onto his ears for support. I remember always being nervous that I would hurt him but he just laughed. "My ears are big enough," he would say, "so just hold on tight!" when I think about that memory, it makes me really love the fact that Riley has his Opa's big ears. The legacy continues...
Saturday, February 26, 2011
I Am So Tired
February 26 -- Chess tournament was awesome today -- great turnout, lots of enthusiastic people. I am so happy for Luke! But the day continued and Brian had plans for us to see a show an hour and a half drive away so after Riley's basketball game, we took off, saw the show (it was excellent!) and went out to dinner -- one of the only restaurants still open at 10pm. Then another hour and a half ride home. I could barely keep my eyes open. ANd now I am trying to write this quickly before the clock strikes midnight (so I meet my goal of writing every day:). It's that or else I pass out from sheer exhaustion!
Friday, February 25, 2011
Stress Kicks In -- Hard
February 25 -- My head is pounding with one of those headaches that starts behind the eyelids and spreads out to cover the entire head. The dishwasher is broken, Riley's kindle froze, my weights and abs instructor at the gym didn't show up for class and there are a bunch of teenage boys with ridiculously deep voices playing Texas Hold 'Em in my kitchen.
I want to just curl up in bed but I can't. (see last sentence of previous paragraph.) So I am going to watch 24 (season one re-runs on netflix) with Connor. We are both big fans.
"Hey Dad! Does a full house beat a straight?" comes the shout from kitchen. Brian, sitting behind me at his computer, is dozing. He startles awake screaming, "yeah?!!" His voice is so loud, my head rattles. This headache is a killer.
Off to the tv. Like that's going to help.
I want to just curl up in bed but I can't. (see last sentence of previous paragraph.) So I am going to watch 24 (season one re-runs on netflix) with Connor. We are both big fans.
"Hey Dad! Does a full house beat a straight?" comes the shout from kitchen. Brian, sitting behind me at his computer, is dozing. He startles awake screaming, "yeah?!!" His voice is so loud, my head rattles. This headache is a killer.
Off to the tv. Like that's going to help.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Chess Anyone?
February 24 -- We spent the night tonight -- the members of the the first annual community chess tournament -- putting together the necessary information to make this event happen. It's the blind leading the blind and, quite frankly, it was terrifying.
But Luke and Andrew kept at it, putting name after name into the new bracketing program that Ross found on the web until -- hooray! -- it was up on the website and we could tell all the participants -- 115 omg! -- that the brackets had been posted.
I am exhausted right now but exhilarated. We did it! I know Luke was nervous about this part of the tournament, but he pulled it off. Tonight -- right now -- I am very proud of that kid.
After everyone left, I cleaned up the kitchen and had my daily goal -- a glass of wine and some chocolate. And a couple of Doritos. Yup. Life is good.
But Luke and Andrew kept at it, putting name after name into the new bracketing program that Ross found on the web until -- hooray! -- it was up on the website and we could tell all the participants -- 115 omg! -- that the brackets had been posted.
I am exhausted right now but exhilarated. We did it! I know Luke was nervous about this part of the tournament, but he pulled it off. Tonight -- right now -- I am very proud of that kid.
After everyone left, I cleaned up the kitchen and had my daily goal -- a glass of wine and some chocolate. And a couple of Doritos. Yup. Life is good.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Liz
February 23 -- When Luke was four years old, I sent him to nursery school. Unlike many other mothers, I didn't send him when he was three. I was overwhelmed by life - I was pregnant with Tessa who was due in August and we had just built and moved into our new house. So I kept him home with me until just after Tessa was born.
The truth was, I didn't want to let him go.
As we get closer and closer to making a decision for college, I find myself going back to that first day of pre-school when I finally, finally let him go into the hands of another teacher. I truly don't know what I would have done if that teacher had been anyone else than "Mrs. Liz", a woman with a great laugh, a generous soul and a heart which easily expanded to include all of us as she embraced my little boy with love.
Today, Liz is a dear friend and we often talk about that first day when she stepped toward Luke and put out her hand. With a quick glance at me, he carefully put his small hand in hers. And then, slowly but with certainty, he walked away from me. I knew he was nervous but he never said a word. He knew she was golden. Luke's "soul" radar, which to this day is remarkably astute, recognized someone he could trust.
Sometimes, letting go helps us stumble upon situations and people who are unbelievable gifts. This was my experience with Liz. And as Luke prepares to take yet another big step away from home and family, I pray that he continues to find amazing friends, teachers and life guides who will help him grow into the fine young man he is already becoming. (Despite the fact that he still drives me insane with his innumerable teenage antics...)
Whenever I feel the tears pricking the back of my eyelids -- it was just yesterday that he was a baby!! -- I think of Liz. I think of what a wonderful gift we received with her friendship. And in my mind, I create that vision for Luke again. I am the director of my movie -- this epic film about the power of love.
The truth was, I didn't want to let him go.
As we get closer and closer to making a decision for college, I find myself going back to that first day of pre-school when I finally, finally let him go into the hands of another teacher. I truly don't know what I would have done if that teacher had been anyone else than "Mrs. Liz", a woman with a great laugh, a generous soul and a heart which easily expanded to include all of us as she embraced my little boy with love.
Today, Liz is a dear friend and we often talk about that first day when she stepped toward Luke and put out her hand. With a quick glance at me, he carefully put his small hand in hers. And then, slowly but with certainty, he walked away from me. I knew he was nervous but he never said a word. He knew she was golden. Luke's "soul" radar, which to this day is remarkably astute, recognized someone he could trust.
Sometimes, letting go helps us stumble upon situations and people who are unbelievable gifts. This was my experience with Liz. And as Luke prepares to take yet another big step away from home and family, I pray that he continues to find amazing friends, teachers and life guides who will help him grow into the fine young man he is already becoming. (Despite the fact that he still drives me insane with his innumerable teenage antics...)
Whenever I feel the tears pricking the back of my eyelids -- it was just yesterday that he was a baby!! -- I think of Liz. I think of what a wonderful gift we received with her friendship. And in my mind, I create that vision for Luke again. I am the director of my movie -- this epic film about the power of love.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
My Dog Needs a Haircut and Other "To-Do's"
February 22 -- I love my new computer. It's so clean and the keyboard is awesome. I even like my mouse. What I don't love about my new computer is that it is even faster than the one that died and so it brings information to me too quickly (especially the stuff I don't want to see like the escalating price of oil because of the Libyan conflict). And I get overwhelmed.
I sit at the computer thinking I will be there for two or three minutes and suddenly I am deeply engrossed in an article which describes the six ways to reduce belly fat. (Before I know it, I am clicking on several slides and reading each one.) And then I look at the clock and suddenly it's time to go to work, go to the gym, pick up the kid, whatever. And all the things I was going to do like sweep the floor, floss my teeth, call the dog groomer or transfer the laundry from the washer to the dryer fall by the wayside.
I get very upset with myself when that happens. How did I waste so much time? Do I really need to know six more ways to reduce fat? I don't think so. But I get suckered in. And whose fault is that? Mine. All mine.
Nonetheless, I am grateful today for... getting to my spinning class. In the last minute, I didn't want to go. But I told myself I would feel better afterward. And I did.
I sit at the computer thinking I will be there for two or three minutes and suddenly I am deeply engrossed in an article which describes the six ways to reduce belly fat. (Before I know it, I am clicking on several slides and reading each one.) And then I look at the clock and suddenly it's time to go to work, go to the gym, pick up the kid, whatever. And all the things I was going to do like sweep the floor, floss my teeth, call the dog groomer or transfer the laundry from the washer to the dryer fall by the wayside.
I get very upset with myself when that happens. How did I waste so much time? Do I really need to know six more ways to reduce fat? I don't think so. But I get suckered in. And whose fault is that? Mine. All mine.
Nonetheless, I am grateful today for... getting to my spinning class. In the last minute, I didn't want to go. But I told myself I would feel better afterward. And I did.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Uconn
February 21st -- I took Luke to UConn today for a "Husky for a Day" tour. He met with some students who took him around the campus. They sat in on a class -- Asian Studies or Eastern Asian History, something like that. According to Luke, he really enjoyed the visit.
While he was out on his tour, I sat in the Student Union and caught up on some paperwork, listened to Luke's ipod and read. There was a girl sitting next to me who was reading the Quran. (sp?) It was really cool. At one point, her phone rang. "I am over here," she whispered. (I wasn't eavesdropping, she was sitting like two feet away from me. ) A few seconds later, a tall blonde young man came over. "How come you are sitting over here? I couldn't find you." She just shrugged. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "Yeah." he said with what sounded like an Eastern European accent. "Let's go eat." She stood up then and started to hoist her backpack onto her shoulder. And that's when he did something I don't think I have ever seen a young man do. He reached over and grabbed her backpack and slung it over his shoulder on top of his. And then, without a comment, the young couple walked away.
Romance and international culture at UConn. Pretty cool.
While he was out on his tour, I sat in the Student Union and caught up on some paperwork, listened to Luke's ipod and read. There was a girl sitting next to me who was reading the Quran. (sp?) It was really cool. At one point, her phone rang. "I am over here," she whispered. (I wasn't eavesdropping, she was sitting like two feet away from me. ) A few seconds later, a tall blonde young man came over. "How come you are sitting over here? I couldn't find you." She just shrugged. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "Yeah." he said with what sounded like an Eastern European accent. "Let's go eat." She stood up then and started to hoist her backpack onto her shoulder. And that's when he did something I don't think I have ever seen a young man do. He reached over and grabbed her backpack and slung it over his shoulder on top of his. And then, without a comment, the young couple walked away.
Romance and international culture at UConn. Pretty cool.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
A Case of Nerves
February 20 -- I really cannot think straight today. There are so many things going on right now and I just have the jitters. This morning as we left the gym Brian had said he wanted to stop at the gas station to fill up the car. When we passed the gas station, I could sense he wasn't going to stop. So I tried to tell him that we needed gas. But nothing which made sense came out. "Garbage!" was the one legible word that I remember uttering. He was like, "what?" When he realized what I had been trying to tell him, he started to crack up. I don't know what is wrong with me. I give up; I really do. It's so weird. It's like my brain is pinging in so many directions and I just can't settle down.
A lot of this has to do with Luke and his college search and application process. It's exciting for sure but since I (nor he) has ever gone through this before, we are like the blind leading the blind. It is unbelievable how different the process is today vs. when I applied for colleges so long ago.
Tomorrow, he has a pretty important interview and since I am the one driving him -- I am unbelievably nervous. I told Brian tonight that I wish he were the one going with Luke. It reminds me of the summer vacation several years ago when we promised Luke he could go para-sailing over the ocean as a birthday gift. All along, the plan was for me to go with him. (Both Brian and I are afraid of heights.) But when the day dawned, I had such a bad case of the nerves, I begged Brian to go with him. And he did. That time anyway. This time, I have to "suck it up" I guess and just go. It will be fine; I know. But right now? I am nervous as heck. I guess it's a good time to say my prayers. :)
A lot of this has to do with Luke and his college search and application process. It's exciting for sure but since I (nor he) has ever gone through this before, we are like the blind leading the blind. It is unbelievable how different the process is today vs. when I applied for colleges so long ago.
Tomorrow, he has a pretty important interview and since I am the one driving him -- I am unbelievably nervous. I told Brian tonight that I wish he were the one going with Luke. It reminds me of the summer vacation several years ago when we promised Luke he could go para-sailing over the ocean as a birthday gift. All along, the plan was for me to go with him. (Both Brian and I are afraid of heights.) But when the day dawned, I had such a bad case of the nerves, I begged Brian to go with him. And he did. That time anyway. This time, I have to "suck it up" I guess and just go. It will be fine; I know. But right now? I am nervous as heck. I guess it's a good time to say my prayers. :)
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Do Parents Have Sex?
February 19 -- A few weeks ago there was an episode on Modern Family where the kids, in an attempt to surprise their parents on their wedding anniversary, walk in on them in the ummmm, heat of marital passion. The show was totally hysterical as it documented the parents effort to recover from their embarrassment and deal with the situation. The three kids confront their own embarrassment and discomfort. All in all, it was a very funny episode. My husband and I watched it with our three teens, Tessa, at 13, being the youngest.
She laughed a lot. I kept looking over at her but she seemed fine and well, I just assumed she got the overall message. It's totally weird for a kid (even if you are in your 40's!) to consider that one's parents 'do the dirty.' So I was really, really surprised today when, during a conversation about female menses, she suddenly looked at me, horrified. "Why do you need to think about birth control?" she asked. I didn't know what to say. I was like, uhhhh, I am in my late 40's and can barely remember my four kids' names? Must I add another? I truly didn't know why she was looking at me with her blue eyes widened in horror.
"Do you and Daddy...do you guys... you don't...oh my God!!" she sputtered.
In shock, I realized what she was asking me. I burst out laughing. "What do you think?" I asked. I knew the answer. Parents only have sex when they want to procreate. And of course it happens the first time they try. So basically, in my daughter's mind, even though I thought she understood the basic premise of the Modern Family episode, clearly, she didn't. Apparently, her theory was that if someone is married for 28 years and has three children, that means they had intercourse three times. That's it. Three times. In 28 years. Yup. I know the theory well. I went through that with my own parents. When I told Tessa, very gently, that sex is part of a healthy marriage, I added that her grandparents -- my parents -- clearly participated in that particular marriage perk. She gasped. "Do they still do it?" she asked quietly, her voice shaking. I shrugged my shoulders. " I don't know. I don't ask," I said. "But what about Opa? Does he know how?" I thought about her question for a few seconds before I answered. My first reaction was to laugh. Does he know how – what a funny question. Men are wired to know how to do it in their sleep for goodness sake. But I knew what she meant. My dad has Alzheimer's. What happens there? Do they forget about sex?
"Tessa," I answered. "I honestly have no idea. And like you, I don't particularly like to think about my parents engaging in such a personal act. As for the Alzheimer's, I don't know. But I do know that as my father becomes more and more forgetful, there is one thing that still rings loud and clear. He and my mother are unbelievably still madly in love with each other. Active sex life or not."
As far as I am concerned, as uncomfortable (and amusing) as the conversation was, that was one of my highs of the day. Thinking about my parents who, after 62 years of marriage, are still hot for each other – in ways that, in my mere 23 years of marriage, I can only guess about. (Although, like my daughter, I try not to get to specific about those thoughts. And rightly so. It's bizarre! Parents having sex? That's like, totally crazy! :)
She laughed a lot. I kept looking over at her but she seemed fine and well, I just assumed she got the overall message. It's totally weird for a kid (even if you are in your 40's!) to consider that one's parents 'do the dirty.' So I was really, really surprised today when, during a conversation about female menses, she suddenly looked at me, horrified. "Why do you need to think about birth control?" she asked. I didn't know what to say. I was like, uhhhh, I am in my late 40's and can barely remember my four kids' names? Must I add another? I truly didn't know why she was looking at me with her blue eyes widened in horror.
"Do you and Daddy...do you guys... you don't...oh my God!!" she sputtered.
In shock, I realized what she was asking me. I burst out laughing. "What do you think?" I asked. I knew the answer. Parents only have sex when they want to procreate. And of course it happens the first time they try. So basically, in my daughter's mind, even though I thought she understood the basic premise of the Modern Family episode, clearly, she didn't. Apparently, her theory was that if someone is married for 28 years and has three children, that means they had intercourse three times. That's it. Three times. In 28 years. Yup. I know the theory well. I went through that with my own parents. When I told Tessa, very gently, that sex is part of a healthy marriage, I added that her grandparents -- my parents -- clearly participated in that particular marriage perk. She gasped. "Do they still do it?" she asked quietly, her voice shaking. I shrugged my shoulders. " I don't know. I don't ask," I said. "But what about Opa? Does he know how?" I thought about her question for a few seconds before I answered. My first reaction was to laugh. Does he know how – what a funny question. Men are wired to know how to do it in their sleep for goodness sake. But I knew what she meant. My dad has Alzheimer's. What happens there? Do they forget about sex?
"Tessa," I answered. "I honestly have no idea. And like you, I don't particularly like to think about my parents engaging in such a personal act. As for the Alzheimer's, I don't know. But I do know that as my father becomes more and more forgetful, there is one thing that still rings loud and clear. He and my mother are unbelievably still madly in love with each other. Active sex life or not."
As far as I am concerned, as uncomfortable (and amusing) as the conversation was, that was one of my highs of the day. Thinking about my parents who, after 62 years of marriage, are still hot for each other – in ways that, in my mere 23 years of marriage, I can only guess about. (Although, like my daughter, I try not to get to specific about those thoughts. And rightly so. It's bizarre! Parents having sex? That's like, totally crazy! :)
Friday, February 18, 2011
Tiger Mom? I Want a Do-over!
February 18 -- Riley bought himself a kindle last week. He was in the middle of reading a book so I told him he had to finish that book before he started buying books on the kindle. Riley isn't exactly a huge reader so I am very curious to see where this will go. He used his own money -- the kid has more money than all of us -- to buy it so I hope it turns him into a stronger reader.
Meanwhile, as he slowly makes his way through Eragon, I bought the Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mom on the kindle. I have read just the first couple of chapters and I am hooked. She is hysterical! I mean yes, some of the expectations she has for her kids are intense but really? I have absolutely nothing but respect for her -- she is raising her kids the way she wants to. But more importantly, she has an excellent understanding of her daughters' different personalities and adjusts her parenting style accordingly. And that is awesome. Many parents have no clue what makes their kids tick. We all run around judging each other about how to raise our kids. But everybody is different; every kid is different. There is no hard and fast method which works for all. Everybody has different upbringings which obviously color our parenting styles. But what Chua does is expect the best from her kids and she doesn't feel guilty about it!
I am considered a strict parent. When everyone in my neighborhood bought their boys air-soft guns last year, I stayed true to my rule and didn't buy Connor one. We became ostracized by the other parents because we were so strict about not letting him play with air-soft guns, especially after one of the kids went a little nuts and shot Connor in the back from about two feet away. (Needless to say, Connor doesn't really hang with the kids on the street anymore.) Yes. I am strict. But next to Amy Chua? I am a kitten. I allow B's. And playdates.
Chua gets away with her strictness because she cloaks it with her cultural heritage. I could have done that. My parents, German and Polish immigrants, were wicked strict. But I saw my oldest brother defiantly move in the complete opposite direction. So I got scared. I never wanted to be so strict that my kids would rise up in defiance and go the other way. I always played the balance game.
Again though, that was my gig. My choice, and Brian's choice. So far, I think my kids are okay. But there are definite, definite areas which are in desperate need of improvement. So I am really looking forward to finishing this book. On my son's kindle. While I force him to finish the hardcover novel he had started before he bought the kindle. Hmmmm. Sounds kind of strict. Who knows? Maybe I am a bit of a tiger mom after all.
Meanwhile, as he slowly makes his way through Eragon, I bought the Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mom on the kindle. I have read just the first couple of chapters and I am hooked. She is hysterical! I mean yes, some of the expectations she has for her kids are intense but really? I have absolutely nothing but respect for her -- she is raising her kids the way she wants to. But more importantly, she has an excellent understanding of her daughters' different personalities and adjusts her parenting style accordingly. And that is awesome. Many parents have no clue what makes their kids tick. We all run around judging each other about how to raise our kids. But everybody is different; every kid is different. There is no hard and fast method which works for all. Everybody has different upbringings which obviously color our parenting styles. But what Chua does is expect the best from her kids and she doesn't feel guilty about it!
I am considered a strict parent. When everyone in my neighborhood bought their boys air-soft guns last year, I stayed true to my rule and didn't buy Connor one. We became ostracized by the other parents because we were so strict about not letting him play with air-soft guns, especially after one of the kids went a little nuts and shot Connor in the back from about two feet away. (Needless to say, Connor doesn't really hang with the kids on the street anymore.) Yes. I am strict. But next to Amy Chua? I am a kitten. I allow B's. And playdates.
Chua gets away with her strictness because she cloaks it with her cultural heritage. I could have done that. My parents, German and Polish immigrants, were wicked strict. But I saw my oldest brother defiantly move in the complete opposite direction. So I got scared. I never wanted to be so strict that my kids would rise up in defiance and go the other way. I always played the balance game.
Again though, that was my gig. My choice, and Brian's choice. So far, I think my kids are okay. But there are definite, definite areas which are in desperate need of improvement. So I am really looking forward to finishing this book. On my son's kindle. While I force him to finish the hardcover novel he had started before he bought the kindle. Hmmmm. Sounds kind of strict. Who knows? Maybe I am a bit of a tiger mom after all.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Spinning vs. A Root Canal
February 17 -- I went to a spinning class today at the gym. This marks the ummmm, 4th class I have ever taken in my whole life. And they all happened in the last couple of weeks. I really like spinning because I sweat like crazy and after an hour of moving non-stop on the bike, I feel like I have burned 1,000 calories. I haven't, of course, but it feels like that anyway.
The funny thing about spinning is that I can see where it becomes addictive. It's painful but healthy. And you feel really, really good afterward. In fact, I know people who have told me that they are, in fact, addicted to it. I cannot help but wonder what is up with this exercise phenomenon which seems to be sweeping the nation. (Okay, I don't talk to people throughout the nation. But I definitely get positive spinning feedback from a large number of people in my town anyway.)
A few days ago, I was talking to an older woman in the locker room after a particularly difficult spinning class. I asked her if she really liked it because, even though I say I like it, I am still very much on the fence. I like the idea that I am burning calories and riding a bike (which I have always loved to do) but I have what I call Gym Cynicism. Whenever I join a gym, I watch the people around me and think, what did they look like before they came here? Does this weight lifting thing really work? Does this sweating over a bike for an hour gig really help people get in shape? So the woman I asked about the class looked at me and laughed. "Oh I love it," she said emphatically. And then she added, "but it took me a year before I loved it." A year? I have to stick with this for a year before it's all love and roses??!
My friend Lori took the class with me today. At the end, I reached toward her bike to give her a fist bump. She was so focused on drinking her water, she left me hanging. "Helloooo!" I said. "Don't leave me hangin' here Lori!" She reached over, gave my knuckles a light tap and said, "I think I would rather have a root canal." I nodded, slowly feeling that awesome adrenaline rush you get when you work out hard and know that it is over. "But," she added with a little more strength in her voice, "I never actually had a root canal."
I have a lifelong anathema for the dentist's chair. So for now, I'm gonna stick with the spinning torture class led by all those skinny, tough woman who shout out..."just another 30 seconds! A little more resistance! C'mon!!"
The funny thing about spinning is that I can see where it becomes addictive. It's painful but healthy. And you feel really, really good afterward. In fact, I know people who have told me that they are, in fact, addicted to it. I cannot help but wonder what is up with this exercise phenomenon which seems to be sweeping the nation. (Okay, I don't talk to people throughout the nation. But I definitely get positive spinning feedback from a large number of people in my town anyway.)
A few days ago, I was talking to an older woman in the locker room after a particularly difficult spinning class. I asked her if she really liked it because, even though I say I like it, I am still very much on the fence. I like the idea that I am burning calories and riding a bike (which I have always loved to do) but I have what I call Gym Cynicism. Whenever I join a gym, I watch the people around me and think, what did they look like before they came here? Does this weight lifting thing really work? Does this sweating over a bike for an hour gig really help people get in shape? So the woman I asked about the class looked at me and laughed. "Oh I love it," she said emphatically. And then she added, "but it took me a year before I loved it." A year? I have to stick with this for a year before it's all love and roses??!
My friend Lori took the class with me today. At the end, I reached toward her bike to give her a fist bump. She was so focused on drinking her water, she left me hanging. "Helloooo!" I said. "Don't leave me hangin' here Lori!" She reached over, gave my knuckles a light tap and said, "I think I would rather have a root canal." I nodded, slowly feeling that awesome adrenaline rush you get when you work out hard and know that it is over. "But," she added with a little more strength in her voice, "I never actually had a root canal."
I have a lifelong anathema for the dentist's chair. So for now, I'm gonna stick with the spinning torture class led by all those skinny, tough woman who shout out..."just another 30 seconds! A little more resistance! C'mon!!"
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
My Midlife Memory (Or Lack Thereof)
February 16 -- Connor and Luke are participating in Poetry Out Loud. Connor is doing the English one this month and Luke is reciting a poem in Arabic for the World Language one in April. Pretty cool. Tonight, Connor was practicing reciting his poems after dinner. As I listened to him, I had memories of my own experience memorizing Robert Frost poems in 7th and 8th grade. I still remember them, in their entirety.
And then I thought about yesterday and this morning when I tried to memorize four lines from T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets. The first line is, "We will not cease our exploring..." or something like that. The key words here are "something like that." i.e. I cannot remember even the first stinking line. And I have to say, I really, really tried to memorize the lines. At first I was like, oh, this is cool. I like the message. Thinking about Connor's recent effort with poetry I thought, hey, I am going to memorize this. Challenge my brain a little, you know? And I CAN'T do it!! I mean, if I spend more time maybe but I have to be honest here. Eliot did not use complicated language with big words. It's a very simple quatrain. And, even as poetry, it kind of makes sense. I read it and I think to myself, ohhhhhh, easy. I can remember this no problem. You go girl. Woo hoo. And so on. And then I shut the book and it's like, aghhhhhhh! My tongue swells and the words get lost in my throat. I am in a black hole. And I realize with utter shock that I can't remember the lines I had just read over and over only seconds before!
So now that I have gone on and one about my lack of ability to memorize new poetry, my million dollar question is, why??? Why can't I memorize the lines today but I can still remember lines that I memorized nearly a million years ago when I was in junior high school? I am not a neurologist. (Ha. If I were, I would certainly not be writing this bizarre blog.) I do realize it has to do with life's business. With the brain being filled to capacity. But with what? What minutia is so important in my grey matter that I can't delete it so I can fill my mind with Eliot's beautiful words?
I don't know. I am a little scared. But mostly I think it's crazy. And now I am getting competitive with myself. I have GOT to learn those lines! (maybe by the time I am fifty - ha.)
"We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And to know the place for the first time."
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
And then I thought about yesterday and this morning when I tried to memorize four lines from T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets. The first line is, "We will not cease our exploring..." or something like that. The key words here are "something like that." i.e. I cannot remember even the first stinking line. And I have to say, I really, really tried to memorize the lines. At first I was like, oh, this is cool. I like the message. Thinking about Connor's recent effort with poetry I thought, hey, I am going to memorize this. Challenge my brain a little, you know? And I CAN'T do it!! I mean, if I spend more time maybe but I have to be honest here. Eliot did not use complicated language with big words. It's a very simple quatrain. And, even as poetry, it kind of makes sense. I read it and I think to myself, ohhhhhh, easy. I can remember this no problem. You go girl. Woo hoo. And so on. And then I shut the book and it's like, aghhhhhhh! My tongue swells and the words get lost in my throat. I am in a black hole. And I realize with utter shock that I can't remember the lines I had just read over and over only seconds before!
So now that I have gone on and one about my lack of ability to memorize new poetry, my million dollar question is, why??? Why can't I memorize the lines today but I can still remember lines that I memorized nearly a million years ago when I was in junior high school? I am not a neurologist. (Ha. If I were, I would certainly not be writing this bizarre blog.) I do realize it has to do with life's business. With the brain being filled to capacity. But with what? What minutia is so important in my grey matter that I can't delete it so I can fill my mind with Eliot's beautiful words?
I don't know. I am a little scared. But mostly I think it's crazy. And now I am getting competitive with myself. I have GOT to learn those lines! (maybe by the time I am fifty - ha.)
"We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And to know the place for the first time."
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
The Big Fat Red Robin
February 15 -- The official harbinger of spring finally arrived in our backyard today. I saw my first robin, and boy was it a fat one.
It was totally accidental how I saw it. As I drank my first cup of coffee this morning (with my cookie) I was thinking about the day, the week, the month. Needless to say, it didn't take long before I sensed the onset of a huge wave of overwhelming stress and anxiety. Suddenly, I knew that if I didn't change my view, I was going to start crying. So I jumped up out of my chair and went over to the window to look out at the snow. And there, perched in the branches of the holly tree, was this huge bird. I looked at it several times wondering -- could it be? Could it really be a robin? Could spring really be arriving??
I ran from one window to another, one room after the other, hoping for a better view of the bird's telltale orangey red breast. And the whole time I was shouting, "you guys! There is a really fat robin in the tree!" Sure enough, it was definitely a robin. I just couldn't help but wonder how it got so fat with all of the snow covering the ground this winter. Where did it get its food?
I got my answer (I think) this afternoon. Riley called me at work to tell me he was home safely from school. "The fat robin is back," he said. "It looks hungry." On the phone, a few miles away, I scrunched up my forehead in confusion. "It does?" I asked. "How can a bird that big look hungry?" He answered me calmly -- my little animal doctor. "Mommy, I think I need to put some food out. Can I fill the bird feeder? That bird has a home somewhere and I know it needs food." Riley is a born salesman. Needless to say, I caved. "Sure, " I said. "Go feed the fat robin." And so he did.
Hooray for signs of spring. And as for the robin, I don't know much about birds but whoaaa, this babe looked way bigger than the typical red-breasted robin one sees hopping around the lawn catching worms each spring. I'm thinking about taking it to a spinning class with me. Bird fitness. Ha.
It was totally accidental how I saw it. As I drank my first cup of coffee this morning (with my cookie) I was thinking about the day, the week, the month. Needless to say, it didn't take long before I sensed the onset of a huge wave of overwhelming stress and anxiety. Suddenly, I knew that if I didn't change my view, I was going to start crying. So I jumped up out of my chair and went over to the window to look out at the snow. And there, perched in the branches of the holly tree, was this huge bird. I looked at it several times wondering -- could it be? Could it really be a robin? Could spring really be arriving??
I ran from one window to another, one room after the other, hoping for a better view of the bird's telltale orangey red breast. And the whole time I was shouting, "you guys! There is a really fat robin in the tree!" Sure enough, it was definitely a robin. I just couldn't help but wonder how it got so fat with all of the snow covering the ground this winter. Where did it get its food?
I got my answer (I think) this afternoon. Riley called me at work to tell me he was home safely from school. "The fat robin is back," he said. "It looks hungry." On the phone, a few miles away, I scrunched up my forehead in confusion. "It does?" I asked. "How can a bird that big look hungry?" He answered me calmly -- my little animal doctor. "Mommy, I think I need to put some food out. Can I fill the bird feeder? That bird has a home somewhere and I know it needs food." Riley is a born salesman. Needless to say, I caved. "Sure, " I said. "Go feed the fat robin." And so he did.
Hooray for signs of spring. And as for the robin, I don't know much about birds but whoaaa, this babe looked way bigger than the typical red-breasted robin one sees hopping around the lawn catching worms each spring. I'm thinking about taking it to a spinning class with me. Bird fitness. Ha.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Live the Life you Love -- Really???
February 14 -- In honor of Valentine's Day, I am writing about a bumper sticker I saw on the back fender of a beat up old van driving in front of me one day last week. I was having a particularly challenging day with all of the house issues and computer issues, never mind all of the kid issues going on as well.
Anyway, the bumper sticker read, "Live the Life you Love." I thought about that for awhile because I was behind the van for quite some time. I wondered about the driver of the van which looked fairly old and well worn. I wondered, was he really happy? Was he choosing to do something he loved even though it clearly didn't pay enough for him (or her, I guess!) to drive a newer van?
I got to thinking about that phrase and after awhile, it started to bug me. What is the life I love, I wondered. I would love to not ever work, to just play every day. I guess. But eventually, I would get bored. I know that about me. I like challenges; I like to do different things and to push myself into the discomfort zone. But I don't love that either. It's a stressful way to be, isn't it? I mean there is always the euphoric fist pumping at the end of a difficult challenge but ohhhhhh, the stress involved along the way. Yipes. It's like raising children. So many ups and downs.
I thought about today's world and how the idea of "living a life I love" is actually quite a luxury. I mean, what about women born in countries where they have no voice, where they are abused and raped and even killed? Just because they are women! Are they living the life they love? Do they even get a choice? For some reason, I thought about the pioneers, setting out for the wild west to pursue a dream (which was usually their husband's). How hard their lives were as they travelled out west and then, when they had settled in the new frontier, to make a home/farm which provided the necessary sustenance for their families to survive, and thrive. Did they have a choice? Could they say, oh, I don't feel like working today. I am going to curl up in my jammies and read an O magazine. Did they love their lives? Probably not.
I am so caught up in trying to find a full time job right now. I am obsessed with wanting to find just the right career which will give me a life I love. Where I can use my God-given talents to help others. (And get paid for it because sending four kids to college is not going to be cheap!) Yes. I certainly do love my life right now in this very moment. But I can sense my restlessness. I need to be intellectually challenged -- I thrive on it! But change is difficult. And so is choosing the steps I must take to affect that change. Sometimes, because I have so many choices, I actually resent it. I feel like a spoiled brat.
I don't know if this makes any sense, but when I think of all the women who have gone before me and have made so many sacrifices so that I can, in fact, stay in my pajamas on a blustery cold Sunday and spend all day reading books and watching movies with my kids, I am both appreciative and, I worry, a bit of a wuss. Like those amazingly brave and selfless women who forged the path before me, am I doing enough, I wonder, to help the women who come after me?
I don't know. I have to think about this some more...
Anyway, the bumper sticker read, "Live the Life you Love." I thought about that for awhile because I was behind the van for quite some time. I wondered about the driver of the van which looked fairly old and well worn. I wondered, was he really happy? Was he choosing to do something he loved even though it clearly didn't pay enough for him (or her, I guess!) to drive a newer van?
I got to thinking about that phrase and after awhile, it started to bug me. What is the life I love, I wondered. I would love to not ever work, to just play every day. I guess. But eventually, I would get bored. I know that about me. I like challenges; I like to do different things and to push myself into the discomfort zone. But I don't love that either. It's a stressful way to be, isn't it? I mean there is always the euphoric fist pumping at the end of a difficult challenge but ohhhhhh, the stress involved along the way. Yipes. It's like raising children. So many ups and downs.
I thought about today's world and how the idea of "living a life I love" is actually quite a luxury. I mean, what about women born in countries where they have no voice, where they are abused and raped and even killed? Just because they are women! Are they living the life they love? Do they even get a choice? For some reason, I thought about the pioneers, setting out for the wild west to pursue a dream (which was usually their husband's). How hard their lives were as they travelled out west and then, when they had settled in the new frontier, to make a home/farm which provided the necessary sustenance for their families to survive, and thrive. Did they have a choice? Could they say, oh, I don't feel like working today. I am going to curl up in my jammies and read an O magazine. Did they love their lives? Probably not.
I am so caught up in trying to find a full time job right now. I am obsessed with wanting to find just the right career which will give me a life I love. Where I can use my God-given talents to help others. (And get paid for it because sending four kids to college is not going to be cheap!) Yes. I certainly do love my life right now in this very moment. But I can sense my restlessness. I need to be intellectually challenged -- I thrive on it! But change is difficult. And so is choosing the steps I must take to affect that change. Sometimes, because I have so many choices, I actually resent it. I feel like a spoiled brat.
I don't know if this makes any sense, but when I think of all the women who have gone before me and have made so many sacrifices so that I can, in fact, stay in my pajamas on a blustery cold Sunday and spend all day reading books and watching movies with my kids, I am both appreciative and, I worry, a bit of a wuss. Like those amazingly brave and selfless women who forged the path before me, am I doing enough, I wonder, to help the women who come after me?
I don't know. I have to think about this some more...
Sunday, February 13, 2011
A New Computer -- Hooray!
February 12 -- I got my new iMac today; what a relief that all of the files backed onto our Time Capsule came back. It is absolutely amazing how dependent I have become on the computer. There was so much information on the hard drive; I would have been devastated if they didn't transfer over.
I mean, yeah, it's just information and I could have re-built my address book, and re-done my job application documents, but there were amazing photos from years back and lots of work documents for my interior decorating business, and Luke's college application essays...and the list went on.
I know this sounds cliche but what did we do before computers?? How did we store all of this information? Did we even have this much information? (we certainly didn't have email addresses, that's for sure.)
Last Friday, when I didn't let Tessa go to her sleepover party, I took her with me and Brian to the local mountain for Riley's last night with snowboarding lessons. (I am so excited how much he loves it but it is boring as heck to sit there all night waiting for him to be finished with his runs!) Anyway, Brian took off to go to a work meeting. Tessa was going crazy, trying to use my phone to text her friends at the party. "I told them I would text them, " she insisted. I was like, "really? Why would you promise something like that if you don't have anything to text them with?" She shrugged and asked for my phone again. I stuck to my "no." When Brian came back, she asked him to borrow his phone as well. I finally looked her square in the eye and told her to BACK OFF! I was like, why don't you just call them tomorrow morning with the house phone?
She looked at me with a smirk. "Use the house phone? My friends and I totally agree -- that is soooo 70's!" 70's?! Geesh!! I am a dinosaur! I will say one thing about the "old fashioned" bulky house phone. It works way better than a skimpy cell phone when you have to change a dirty diaper and you want to keep on talking. Cell phones slip far easier when you prop them between your head and shoulder. Maybe the moms of today use a bluetooth. Whatever. Okay. So I'm a dinosaur. (So what does that make Brian?!) haha.
I mean, yeah, it's just information and I could have re-built my address book, and re-done my job application documents, but there were amazing photos from years back and lots of work documents for my interior decorating business, and Luke's college application essays...and the list went on.
I know this sounds cliche but what did we do before computers?? How did we store all of this information? Did we even have this much information? (we certainly didn't have email addresses, that's for sure.)
Last Friday, when I didn't let Tessa go to her sleepover party, I took her with me and Brian to the local mountain for Riley's last night with snowboarding lessons. (I am so excited how much he loves it but it is boring as heck to sit there all night waiting for him to be finished with his runs!) Anyway, Brian took off to go to a work meeting. Tessa was going crazy, trying to use my phone to text her friends at the party. "I told them I would text them, " she insisted. I was like, "really? Why would you promise something like that if you don't have anything to text them with?" She shrugged and asked for my phone again. I stuck to my "no." When Brian came back, she asked him to borrow his phone as well. I finally looked her square in the eye and told her to BACK OFF! I was like, why don't you just call them tomorrow morning with the house phone?
She looked at me with a smirk. "Use the house phone? My friends and I totally agree -- that is soooo 70's!" 70's?! Geesh!! I am a dinosaur! I will say one thing about the "old fashioned" bulky house phone. It works way better than a skimpy cell phone when you have to change a dirty diaper and you want to keep on talking. Cell phones slip far easier when you prop them between your head and shoulder. Maybe the moms of today use a bluetooth. Whatever. Okay. So I'm a dinosaur. (So what does that make Brian?!) haha.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Pass
February 11 -- I am so tired tonight; I don't know why really. worked out at the gym early this morning and did a lot of driving but...really not enough to make me so exhausted.
We went to the mall tonight to buy a new computer and ended up leaving with nothing because we decided to order one over the internet. (To save on taxes, I guess.) So I still don't have my computer. What I miss most are all of my email addresses. I can't initiate an email to anyone! (well, except Brian. He is the only one I have memorized.)
Speaking of Brian, he just told me that we have to pay the taxes on the computer if we order it online too. So we could have just gotten it from the mall after all.
Ughhhhhh.
I'm done.
We went to the mall tonight to buy a new computer and ended up leaving with nothing because we decided to order one over the internet. (To save on taxes, I guess.) So I still don't have my computer. What I miss most are all of my email addresses. I can't initiate an email to anyone! (well, except Brian. He is the only one I have memorized.)
Speaking of Brian, he just told me that we have to pay the taxes on the computer if we order it online too. So we could have just gotten it from the mall after all.
Ughhhhhh.
I'm done.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Boy/Man Sweat is NOT a Turn On
February 10 -- Got an email tonight from the coordinator of the Winter Lacrosse League about their end of the year lacrosse pizza party after practice on Sunday night. He talked about how the restaurant can hold 50 kids plus 25 standing. He invited the parents but remarked that it might be a tight squeeze and that the boys would be sweaty after practice. My response? Okayyyy, I won't be there.
A few minutes later, Brian sat down at the computer and read the same email. "Who is picking up Connor on Sunday?" he asked. "Penney is," I answered, thinking to myself, duhhhh, Penney always does pick-up. "Why?" he asked again. I turned around, my mouth open in disbelief. The man has like a zero memory level lately. "Brian," I said with infinite patience, "she always picks up the boys!"
His voice went up a few octaves. "But they're gonna talk to the high school kids! I want to hear what they say!"
I was quiet for a moment thinking, really? Shut upppp! You really want to hear them tell the high school kids how they have to be good role models for the younger kids in the lacrosse league in town? Really? But what I said was, "Didn't you read the email? It's going to be totally sweaty and smelly in there." Brian looked at me and laughed. "Yeah," he said. "But I read that and was like, cool! I wanna go!"
guys. They are so TOTALLY weird! And when they work out? They smell really, really bad. But they like it. I have noooo idea how to make any sense out of that one. None at all.
Thank God I am a girl. :)
A few minutes later, Brian sat down at the computer and read the same email. "Who is picking up Connor on Sunday?" he asked. "Penney is," I answered, thinking to myself, duhhhh, Penney always does pick-up. "Why?" he asked again. I turned around, my mouth open in disbelief. The man has like a zero memory level lately. "Brian," I said with infinite patience, "she always picks up the boys!"
His voice went up a few octaves. "But they're gonna talk to the high school kids! I want to hear what they say!"
I was quiet for a moment thinking, really? Shut upppp! You really want to hear them tell the high school kids how they have to be good role models for the younger kids in the lacrosse league in town? Really? But what I said was, "Didn't you read the email? It's going to be totally sweaty and smelly in there." Brian looked at me and laughed. "Yeah," he said. "But I read that and was like, cool! I wanna go!"
guys. They are so TOTALLY weird! And when they work out? They smell really, really bad. But they like it. I have noooo idea how to make any sense out of that one. None at all.
Thank God I am a girl. :)
Thursday, February 10, 2011
I Decide to (Not) Compete with Shelly
February 10 -- Today I received an email from my very old friend Shelly. (Our friendship is old, Shelly isn't. Well, she's my age and that's not old. Okay. Maybe a little old. Ish.) Shelly is part of a band of childhood friends I am blessed to belong to -- there are five of us -- who have stayed close over all these years. We are almost like family and, like siblings, we fall into the behavior patterns we had when we were little. Even if we are old(er).
Shelly, by the way, is the friend who wouldn't get off of the phone when my mother was hitting me over the head with the silver serving spoon. (See Tobasco Sauce entry.)
Out of all of the members of the Fab 5, (our very queer but fun group name) Shelly and I are the most competitive. It started back in junior high when we were both in the same "advanced" classes. Shelly was the one who always "bombed" a test only to get the higher grade. That used to drive me completely nuts. By the time high school was finished, we were pretty much labeled as the competitors of the group. We even went to the same college so we could compete some more. Ha. It was definitely a love/dislike (but mostly love) relationship.
After college, we went our separate ways but we stayed in touch. I would call her from NYC having moved there from Boston. Shelly had taken a job with a computer company in Boston, I had one with a national pr firm. Shelly's starting salary was (way) higher than mine. We would touch base and it was always, "Oh, I am so busy." To which she would respond, "you think you're busy..." When we got married and had kids it was, "omg the kids are driving me crazy. This one has a cold, that one has too many activities..." To which she would respond, "you think you have it bad? My kids have..." She always had a more horrific or distressing story to tell. And it bothered me. A lot. I would resist for a while but eventually I got sucked back into the competition -- but she just always seemed to have a more dramatic version of whatever was ailing me at the time. By the time I would get off of the phone I would have that sick feeling you get when you eat way too much Halloween candy. It's fun to do it but you kind of feel really nauseous afterward.
Eventually, I grew older. And I changed. It didn't happen overnight but I just eventually realized that I didn't want to compete anymore. It wasn't fun. It was actually kind of draining. So a couple of years ago, we had this really intense argument which led to an equally intense discussion. I love Shelly; I really do. She is very kind-hearted and one of the most creative women I know. And unbelievably talented with woodworking. After she left her extremely lucrative job in computers to stay home with her beautiful girls, she built her home by hand. Literally. She even made her kitchen cabinets, the molding on the windows, laid all the floors, installed the lights etc. Amazing. And totally, totally out of my league. Nothing to compete with, you know? I wasn't even close.
So now she just cracks me up when I get a "you think you have it bad" kind of response from her. A few weeks ago, one of our Fab 5 members sent out an email to ask if we could get together soon. I responded with an email which shared our winter woes with all of the leaking, roof issues etc. When I got Shelly's response today, I just shook my head. She started by giving me the pity I guess I was looking for and then she launched into all of her house issues. "It wasn't as bad as yours, " she started. "We only had our kitchen with buckets (and a very ruined ceiling) and a couple other small bucket locations in the front of the house." I was like, yipes, that sounds really bad! But then she went on to describe how she put pilot holes in the ceiling and the moldings and I was like, once again, wow...Shelly has me beat! She has it worse than me. But I was happy about it. I could only laugh when I read the part about how she tied a rope around a radiator and climbed onto the roof with a "mason's hammer for the ice." A "mason's hammer?" What the hell is that?! What woman our age knows what a mason hammer is, never mind knows how to use it? (Besides for cracking the ice on the roof.) Like I said, she is totally out of my league.
With all of this craziness, it helps to find things to laugh about. Reading Shelly's email made me silly with joy. I am no longer competing. She wins!! Needless to say, that freedom makes me one happy woman.
Shelly, by the way, is the friend who wouldn't get off of the phone when my mother was hitting me over the head with the silver serving spoon. (See Tobasco Sauce entry.)
Out of all of the members of the Fab 5, (our very queer but fun group name) Shelly and I are the most competitive. It started back in junior high when we were both in the same "advanced" classes. Shelly was the one who always "bombed" a test only to get the higher grade. That used to drive me completely nuts. By the time high school was finished, we were pretty much labeled as the competitors of the group. We even went to the same college so we could compete some more. Ha. It was definitely a love/dislike (but mostly love) relationship.
After college, we went our separate ways but we stayed in touch. I would call her from NYC having moved there from Boston. Shelly had taken a job with a computer company in Boston, I had one with a national pr firm. Shelly's starting salary was (way) higher than mine. We would touch base and it was always, "Oh, I am so busy." To which she would respond, "you think you're busy..." When we got married and had kids it was, "omg the kids are driving me crazy. This one has a cold, that one has too many activities..." To which she would respond, "you think you have it bad? My kids have..." She always had a more horrific or distressing story to tell. And it bothered me. A lot. I would resist for a while but eventually I got sucked back into the competition -- but she just always seemed to have a more dramatic version of whatever was ailing me at the time. By the time I would get off of the phone I would have that sick feeling you get when you eat way too much Halloween candy. It's fun to do it but you kind of feel really nauseous afterward.
Eventually, I grew older. And I changed. It didn't happen overnight but I just eventually realized that I didn't want to compete anymore. It wasn't fun. It was actually kind of draining. So a couple of years ago, we had this really intense argument which led to an equally intense discussion. I love Shelly; I really do. She is very kind-hearted and one of the most creative women I know. And unbelievably talented with woodworking. After she left her extremely lucrative job in computers to stay home with her beautiful girls, she built her home by hand. Literally. She even made her kitchen cabinets, the molding on the windows, laid all the floors, installed the lights etc. Amazing. And totally, totally out of my league. Nothing to compete with, you know? I wasn't even close.
So now she just cracks me up when I get a "you think you have it bad" kind of response from her. A few weeks ago, one of our Fab 5 members sent out an email to ask if we could get together soon. I responded with an email which shared our winter woes with all of the leaking, roof issues etc. When I got Shelly's response today, I just shook my head. She started by giving me the pity I guess I was looking for and then she launched into all of her house issues. "It wasn't as bad as yours, " she started. "We only had our kitchen with buckets (and a very ruined ceiling) and a couple other small bucket locations in the front of the house." I was like, yipes, that sounds really bad! But then she went on to describe how she put pilot holes in the ceiling and the moldings and I was like, once again, wow...Shelly has me beat! She has it worse than me. But I was happy about it. I could only laugh when I read the part about how she tied a rope around a radiator and climbed onto the roof with a "mason's hammer for the ice." A "mason's hammer?" What the hell is that?! What woman our age knows what a mason hammer is, never mind knows how to use it? (Besides for cracking the ice on the roof.) Like I said, she is totally out of my league.
With all of this craziness, it helps to find things to laugh about. Reading Shelly's email made me silly with joy. I am no longer competing. She wins!! Needless to say, that freedom makes me one happy woman.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
This Hurts Me More Than It Hurts You
February 9 -- Continuing the theme of parental discipline, when I was a kid, one of the things my mother used to always say while she was disciplining me for some transgression or another was, "this hurts me more than it hurts you." I remember always thinking, "yeah, right."
As a parent today, I truly do understand what she was trying to say. It's not so much that disciplining our kids hurts us more, it's just really, really inconvenient because yes, it is emotionally taxing. In addition, watching your child sob in misery because you took away some privilege or another goes entirely against the parenting dream. You know the one. It's the daydream where the kids are all googley-eyed with love and respect for their moms and dads.
Misbehavior always comes at the most inconvenient time, doesn't it? Let's say you are having an evening with familial joy. And then someone upsets the apple cart and all hell breaks loose. You're like, really? Do we really need to deal with this right now?! That's pretty much what happened tonight anyway. I was making a lovely dinner with chicken sauteed with asparagus, sun dried tomatoes, artichokes and a white wine reduction sauce and that's when the boys decided to tell on their sister. I don't think they had any idea what horrible can of discipline they were kicking her way; somehow they knew what she was doing was wrong but their message was the straw that broke the camel's back. When Brian and I heard this latest transgression, it wasn't so much what she did, it was everything added up. Normal, normal, normal child rearing stuff. But suddenly, the night went from Norman Rockwell to Poltergeist. Everyone screaming, and the 'rents having to lay down the law.
I know this sounds lame, but it really sucked. I mean we were just not in the mood for playing the role of the strict parents. So much going on lately with the house, the taxes, jobs, you name it. We just didn't need this drama as well. It would have been so easy to make light of it. But we didn't, because it is part of a bigger trend that we find quite disturbing. Our daughter (and to some degree, the boys are too) is addicted to screens -- tv, computer, ipod -- everything. And based on the behavior she is exhibiting, she is so out of balance she has lost the ability to decipher what is a good decision and what is a bad one.
I know that when my kids grow up and have children of their own, there will be "new" things that they have to deal with that we parents never did. But for now? This whole internet, cell phone, texting, wii, stupid tv show obsession is really, really hard to monitor. I feel like I have no control and that all of my discipline decisions are off. But I know one thing. Lying is wrong. And no matter how "techy" these kids are getting, no matter how many expensive internet accessible toys they have, it all comes down to one thing -- follow the rules and treat others with respect by telling the truth. Or face the consequences.
Amen.
As a parent today, I truly do understand what she was trying to say. It's not so much that disciplining our kids hurts us more, it's just really, really inconvenient because yes, it is emotionally taxing. In addition, watching your child sob in misery because you took away some privilege or another goes entirely against the parenting dream. You know the one. It's the daydream where the kids are all googley-eyed with love and respect for their moms and dads.
Misbehavior always comes at the most inconvenient time, doesn't it? Let's say you are having an evening with familial joy. And then someone upsets the apple cart and all hell breaks loose. You're like, really? Do we really need to deal with this right now?! That's pretty much what happened tonight anyway. I was making a lovely dinner with chicken sauteed with asparagus, sun dried tomatoes, artichokes and a white wine reduction sauce and that's when the boys decided to tell on their sister. I don't think they had any idea what horrible can of discipline they were kicking her way; somehow they knew what she was doing was wrong but their message was the straw that broke the camel's back. When Brian and I heard this latest transgression, it wasn't so much what she did, it was everything added up. Normal, normal, normal child rearing stuff. But suddenly, the night went from Norman Rockwell to Poltergeist. Everyone screaming, and the 'rents having to lay down the law.
I know this sounds lame, but it really sucked. I mean we were just not in the mood for playing the role of the strict parents. So much going on lately with the house, the taxes, jobs, you name it. We just didn't need this drama as well. It would have been so easy to make light of it. But we didn't, because it is part of a bigger trend that we find quite disturbing. Our daughter (and to some degree, the boys are too) is addicted to screens -- tv, computer, ipod -- everything. And based on the behavior she is exhibiting, she is so out of balance she has lost the ability to decipher what is a good decision and what is a bad one.
I know that when my kids grow up and have children of their own, there will be "new" things that they have to deal with that we parents never did. But for now? This whole internet, cell phone, texting, wii, stupid tv show obsession is really, really hard to monitor. I feel like I have no control and that all of my discipline decisions are off. But I know one thing. Lying is wrong. And no matter how "techy" these kids are getting, no matter how many expensive internet accessible toys they have, it all comes down to one thing -- follow the rules and treat others with respect by telling the truth. Or face the consequences.
Amen.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
A-Rod and Cameron Eat Popcorn, OMG
February 8 -- Back in the day (last week) before my main computer died, I used to read my msn.com page every morning. Now I have to access my email etc. via a couple of other safari web pages. What cracks me up these days (and, in the midst of all this leaking roof, freezing pipes winter drama it is always nice to find something to laugh at) is the obsession the media has with this tiny little scene between A-Rod and Cameron Diaz at the Super Bowl. It's everywhere.
I actually saw it live. I say this with some pride because it is precisely the kind of thing I wouldn't notice since I am usually heading for the chip and dip bowl whenever the camera isn't on the game. Okayyy. Sometimes I go for the chips and dip during the game too. Geez. Anyway, since I am trying desperately to watch what I eat lately, I was largely glued to the screen for most of the game, audience shots included. The camera was panning the celebrity box with GW and his wife Laura and all of a sudden the camera focused on A-Rod and Cameron while she put a piece (or three pieces) of popcorn into his mouth. There was dead silence for a few seconds and then the announcer goes, "that's Cameron Diaz and A-Rod." And that was it.
But then the photo went viral. And now it is the new hot celebrity photo. Weird. I say that because I just can't help but wonder what the interest is. I mean, it's like this blog of mine. There have been more hits on the child abuse "Tobasco" blog than any other. Why? Because, apparently people are googling that incident. I remember once when I let Brian have a huge bite of my hot dog at a Mets game. It was pretty dramatic because I don't usually share my junk food. And there was like, mustard dripping down one side of his mouth as he was chewing. But there were no photos. No camera coverage. Of course not! Why? Because we are representatives of the everyday, common folk. Who cares, right? My thoughts exactly. Sometimes, I think that our country, on the whole, needs a life. We are way too obsessed with what all the famous people are doing. So much that, helloooo, are we even paying attention to ourselves? Or to the amazing and wonderful "common" folks who inhabit our daily lives? Just wondering.
Although, now that I write about it, I guess I am also wondering (a little) what Cameron Diaz (whom I love for her craft, not her personality -- because I don't know her btw) is doing with A-Rod. (Whom I do NOT love, for any reason.) But it's their life, not mine. Popcorn and all.
I actually saw it live. I say this with some pride because it is precisely the kind of thing I wouldn't notice since I am usually heading for the chip and dip bowl whenever the camera isn't on the game. Okayyy. Sometimes I go for the chips and dip during the game too. Geez. Anyway, since I am trying desperately to watch what I eat lately, I was largely glued to the screen for most of the game, audience shots included. The camera was panning the celebrity box with GW and his wife Laura and all of a sudden the camera focused on A-Rod and Cameron while she put a piece (or three pieces) of popcorn into his mouth. There was dead silence for a few seconds and then the announcer goes, "that's Cameron Diaz and A-Rod." And that was it.
But then the photo went viral. And now it is the new hot celebrity photo. Weird. I say that because I just can't help but wonder what the interest is. I mean, it's like this blog of mine. There have been more hits on the child abuse "Tobasco" blog than any other. Why? Because, apparently people are googling that incident. I remember once when I let Brian have a huge bite of my hot dog at a Mets game. It was pretty dramatic because I don't usually share my junk food. And there was like, mustard dripping down one side of his mouth as he was chewing. But there were no photos. No camera coverage. Of course not! Why? Because we are representatives of the everyday, common folk. Who cares, right? My thoughts exactly. Sometimes, I think that our country, on the whole, needs a life. We are way too obsessed with what all the famous people are doing. So much that, helloooo, are we even paying attention to ourselves? Or to the amazing and wonderful "common" folks who inhabit our daily lives? Just wondering.
Although, now that I write about it, I guess I am also wondering (a little) what Cameron Diaz (whom I love for her craft, not her personality -- because I don't know her btw) is doing with A-Rod. (Whom I do NOT love, for any reason.) But it's their life, not mine. Popcorn and all.
Monday, February 7, 2011
So Tired...
February 7 -- So yes, the roof guys finally came. Apparently, our roof is so bad, they had to call for back-ups. Tomorrow, more guys will be here. Their are no less than five fans going right now in two rooms, along with a dehumidifier in the bonus room. One of the guys came in at 6:30pm (after they had been working like, non-stop chipping away at the ice on the roof since 2pm) and says, "do you have heat in the garage?"
I was like, "what?! Who has heat in their garage?" The ceiling is so bad in the garage, they have to tear it down. Kind of guessed that. Tomorrow they are bringing a heat lamp to heat the garage. (Seriously. That question really got me thinking -- do other people really have heat in their garage??)
The appraiser came by as well. Looks like we have more damage than others. It's going to be a lot of work. Having workers in the house is always a pain. Like, can you shower after you get back from the gym? (The answer is no, not really.) Tonight, I kept thinking they were going to leave but they didn't leave till around 7:30pm. With all the fans, they kept blowing fuses or whatever it was that they did. I vacuumed glitter off of the floor for about an hour (I swear; I am not exaggerating.) The kids in my CCD class this afternoon made valentines for the senior citizen Valentine's Day luncheon next Monday. Cute but messy. Needless to say, between the unending glitter mess and the various needs for this roof/ceiling disaster, I forgot to feed the kids dinner. Luke was like, "I gotta go tutor now...", Tessa was about to be picked up for CCD and I suddenly realized it was nearly 7pm and nobody had eaten.
Whatever. The kids eventually all got fed. I ate. Brian ate when he got home from work at 9:30 pm. The fans are blowing and over at the light and power company, everyone is doing the victory dance because we are sooooo jacking up our electricity rate right now.
Like I said. Whatever. I am too tired to care.
I was like, "what?! Who has heat in their garage?" The ceiling is so bad in the garage, they have to tear it down. Kind of guessed that. Tomorrow they are bringing a heat lamp to heat the garage. (Seriously. That question really got me thinking -- do other people really have heat in their garage??)
The appraiser came by as well. Looks like we have more damage than others. It's going to be a lot of work. Having workers in the house is always a pain. Like, can you shower after you get back from the gym? (The answer is no, not really.) Tonight, I kept thinking they were going to leave but they didn't leave till around 7:30pm. With all the fans, they kept blowing fuses or whatever it was that they did. I vacuumed glitter off of the floor for about an hour (I swear; I am not exaggerating.) The kids in my CCD class this afternoon made valentines for the senior citizen Valentine's Day luncheon next Monday. Cute but messy. Needless to say, between the unending glitter mess and the various needs for this roof/ceiling disaster, I forgot to feed the kids dinner. Luke was like, "I gotta go tutor now...", Tessa was about to be picked up for CCD and I suddenly realized it was nearly 7pm and nobody had eaten.
Whatever. The kids eventually all got fed. I ate. Brian ate when he got home from work at 9:30 pm. The fans are blowing and over at the light and power company, everyone is doing the victory dance because we are sooooo jacking up our electricity rate right now.
Like I said. Whatever. I am too tired to care.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Green Bay Packers RULE!!
February 6 -- And the Green Bay Packers pull off a win despite the injuries of three key players in the middle of the game. (One came back toward the end but the other two remained out.) The whole time I was watching, I had a stomach ache. We all screamed at each other during the bad plays and screamed at each other during the good plays. All in all, we had a blast. :)
And now the Packers are the Super Bowl champs. Hooray!!
During the middle of the game, the roofing guy called to confirm that he is coming tomorrow to clear the roof and to assess the damage in the house. Guess he isn't a football guy. But I'm psyched because it looks like he will finally be here. After all this back and forth, I am questioning whether or not he actually shows. We'll see!
And now the Packers are the Super Bowl champs. Hooray!!
During the middle of the game, the roofing guy called to confirm that he is coming tomorrow to clear the roof and to assess the damage in the house. Guess he isn't a football guy. But I'm psyched because it looks like he will finally be here. After all this back and forth, I am questioning whether or not he actually shows. We'll see!
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Hey Chicken Licken' -- the Ceiling is Falling
February 5 -- The roof people are getting closer and closer...but they have not yet arrived. Every day we talk to them and every day he keeps putting us off for another day. Tonight he left a message to say that his crew is tired and they would not be coming out tomorrow to finally shovel the snow off of our very high roof (s). His crew was tired and need a day off. If they are as busy as I believe they are, those guys deserve a day off. I mean who wants tired men climbing around their roof???
But the damage continues. Today, more tape fell from the ceiling in the garage along with soggy bits of sheetrock and remnants of white taping compound. Water gushed from the electrical outlet in the ceiling where the garage door opener was plugged in. Brian talked about taking a drill and putting a hole in the sheetrock to "relieve the buildup" (like a surgeon drilling a hole into someone's skull to reduce pressure and swelling I guess.) But in the end, he just pulled the plug out.
The unfinished bonus room is covered in ice; the rags and "sham-wows" (which are totally AWESOME btw) which we put down to absorb the water are now stubbornly frozen to the floor. Icicles drape the insulation like jewelry on an evening gown. It's totally bizarre. I find myself compartmentalizing the damage -- completely ignoring it at times so effectively that when I do remember that nature is mocking us and water and ice is invading our home, I am almost shocked as though it is a brand new discovery.
And we are not alone. Every day I hear more and more stories of water damage suddenly appearing in other people's homes. Apparently, insurance adjusters are invading the area in droves.
And so we continue to chip away at the ice, defrost the towels, spin them dry and lay them down again. And then, we wait for help. What else can we do? So far, the heat works, the electricity works and if all goes well, the roof guys will be here in two days to at least alleviate some of the water source.
Fingers crossed.
But the damage continues. Today, more tape fell from the ceiling in the garage along with soggy bits of sheetrock and remnants of white taping compound. Water gushed from the electrical outlet in the ceiling where the garage door opener was plugged in. Brian talked about taking a drill and putting a hole in the sheetrock to "relieve the buildup" (like a surgeon drilling a hole into someone's skull to reduce pressure and swelling I guess.) But in the end, he just pulled the plug out.
The unfinished bonus room is covered in ice; the rags and "sham-wows" (which are totally AWESOME btw) which we put down to absorb the water are now stubbornly frozen to the floor. Icicles drape the insulation like jewelry on an evening gown. It's totally bizarre. I find myself compartmentalizing the damage -- completely ignoring it at times so effectively that when I do remember that nature is mocking us and water and ice is invading our home, I am almost shocked as though it is a brand new discovery.
And we are not alone. Every day I hear more and more stories of water damage suddenly appearing in other people's homes. Apparently, insurance adjusters are invading the area in droves.
And so we continue to chip away at the ice, defrost the towels, spin them dry and lay them down again. And then, we wait for help. What else can we do? So far, the heat works, the electricity works and if all goes well, the roof guys will be here in two days to at least alleviate some of the water source.
Fingers crossed.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Book Club
February 4 -- Tonight was a book club meeting. I really love this book club; all the women are truly interested in reading the assigned book, even Denise who is totally exhausted from her long days at work. And even though we don't always talk about the book for very long, we are still connected by the bond of having read it.
Every time we meet, I always leave the meeting knowing something more than I did before. Sometimes it's a new insight into the novel, other times it's just a comment someone makes that surprises me or provides yet another piece in the puzzle of understanding life. That's one of the coolest things about literature; whether you are all alone reading someone else's words, or you are in a group or classroom talking about the book, you feel connected to another human being. You know that you are not alone.
In all of life's peaks and valleys there are many, many times when an outcropping of loneliness pops up. I cannot even begin to list how many times reading a book has lifted my mood and strengthened my resolve to keep on going.
We read Little Bee for this month's meeting. It was a great book, albeit a sad one. Nevertheless, I was very glad I read it. While I don't purposely select depressing stories, I think it's a tremendous gift to read something tragic and sad; it helps me recognize how fortunate I am to have so many wonderful blessings in my life. Like our book club. :)
Every time we meet, I always leave the meeting knowing something more than I did before. Sometimes it's a new insight into the novel, other times it's just a comment someone makes that surprises me or provides yet another piece in the puzzle of understanding life. That's one of the coolest things about literature; whether you are all alone reading someone else's words, or you are in a group or classroom talking about the book, you feel connected to another human being. You know that you are not alone.
In all of life's peaks and valleys there are many, many times when an outcropping of loneliness pops up. I cannot even begin to list how many times reading a book has lifted my mood and strengthened my resolve to keep on going.
We read Little Bee for this month's meeting. It was a great book, albeit a sad one. Nevertheless, I was very glad I read it. While I don't purposely select depressing stories, I think it's a tremendous gift to read something tragic and sad; it helps me recognize how fortunate I am to have so many wonderful blessings in my life. Like our book club. :)
Thursday, February 3, 2011
The Ice and Snow Gets Worse
February 3 -- The snow and ice are getting worse and worse. The leak on the roof is invading the bonus room; part of the floor is covered in ice, there are icicles hanging on the insulation in the walls. Our insurance company gave us the name of a company who will remove the snow. When I called, he said he couldn't be here for four days. I was like, okay, put me on your schedule. He told me to call back tonight with specifics. When I did, he didn't pick up. Brian just called and the owner didn't know who I was. (I spoke to him twice today.) He told Brian he could come out next Thursday. What???? This is craziness. I heard there are people who are calling roofing companies and are paying double the fee to get them out to their houses earlier.
I just don't know what to say. I am so frustrated.
I just don't know what to say. I am so frustrated.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Tabasco Sauce and Cold Showers?...Hmmmm.
February 2 -- I just read an interesting article on msn.com about a Dr. Phil show where a woman showed a video of her discipline technique -- she poured Tabasco sauce into her son's mouth and then put him in a cold shower. I guess she was arrested for child abuse the next day.
The article I read was a blog written by a father who completely disagreed with the woman's discipline effort. He talked about how just the other day one of his twin sons whacked him in the leg with a plastic golf club. The father was angry but held back from physically spanking his son. He put him in a time out instead. Here is my response -- clearly, the kid was little. Talk to me when he hits his teen years and he mouths back at his dad, maybe even shoves him. It happens. Good kids lose their self control just as easily as "bad" kids do. I would seriously like to watch while this dad puts his 16 year old into the time out corner. Teenagers are a very special breed. Just as you are patting yourself on your parental back for raising a kid who, say, puts down the toilet seat after he pees, there you are in the middle of the night, falling into the toilet bowl. Raising teens is a like riding a roller coaster where all the rules get thrown out of the cart. But if you can keep your wits about you and not try too hard to please them and coddle their self-esteem by trying to be their friend, their hormones will eventually settle down and their brains will become clear again. And, God willing, they will remember and appreciate the rules you have taught them nearly every day of their entire life. At least this is what I have been told anyway.
As for the woman on Dr. Phil, I am like whoaaaaa. It's one thing to lose it with your kid and go nuts. I totally understand that. But to videotape it? Really? How fake is that? Am I the only person in the world who thinks the mother staged that scene just so she could get on the Dr. Phil show? I mean here is the deal. You snap at your kid, and smack him one. Nine point nine times out of 10 it's completely impulsive. You are so enraged, it's all you can do at the moment to stop the garbage coming out your kid's mouth, kind of like slapping a hysterical person to shock them out of their craziness. But think about this alleged discipline scene. The kid misbehaves. The mother stops, goes to get the video camera out, sets it up on a tripod and hits "play"after maneuvering the lens to make sure she and the kid are both in the shot. Then she gets the Tabasco sauce out, pours it into her child's mouth, then moves the camera and the kid to the bathroom, puts on the shower and shoves the kid into the shower...that all takes a real lot of time and extra effort. Plenty of time to come to your senses. Unless you are just demented. In which case, I guess she deserves to be on Dr. Phil. And get arrested. More for stupidity than abuse. Again, I am nearly convinced the kid was part of the act. (I did not see the actual video. Maybe she asked someone to film her. Again, more proof that it was staged.)
While there is a definite topic here -- doing weird and repulsive things to get onto tv -- what seems to be catching everyone's judgmental eye is the concept of physical discipline.
I was spanked as a kid. Not a lot, but if I talked back to my mother (and I did) she would smack me one across the mouth. And usually, I thought to myself, whoaa girl, why can you just keep your mouth shut! You deserved that one! I remember once when I was in high school and I was on the phone with my bff, Shelly. She wouldn't stop talking and my mother kept screaming at me to get off of the phone and come to dinner. She came after me with this huge silver serving spoon and started to whack me over the head. I hung up on Shelly while she was in mid-sentence. When Shelly yelled at me the next day for hanging up on her, I showed her the lumps. And I never stayed on the phone when my mother told me to get off again.
Although I don't smack my kids over the head with a spoon, I have been known to put a dab of soap on their tongues when they were little and talked back. And the one who told me "it tasted good," definitely got more soap. I feel like it is my responsibility to society to raise kids who can function on their own in the world by being kind and respectful to others. Like a lioness who will do whatever she has to do to teach her cubs how to obey, I am fierce about instilling the habit of respecting others. There is a reason why kids do stupid things. It's the same reason why they aren't allowed to drive cars or light candles when they are five years old. They are learning. And they are immature. Just like we were immature and did stupid things we shouldn't have done. Our levels of self-control totally sucked. The parents who are afraid of disciplining their immature and impetuous kids are the ones who really scare me. I just don't get it. I mean, that's a huge part of our job as parents, isn't it?
Over 20 years ago, my husband's friend Peter was shot in the back and killed during a dispute with another young man. The guy who shot him was a short kid who allegedly didn't feel 'confident about himself.' Peter was a tough guy who didn't put up with anyone's backtalk. The kid was drunk, and after a minor argument ensued about a drink spilling in the bar, he followed Peter outside. When Peter turned to walk away, he pulled out a gun and shot Peter right there on the sidewalk. He was caught but his wealthy parents allegedly helped him escape the charges by sneaking him out of the country. He just got caught again. He was living in Mexico. Maybe now, finally, he can be disciplined ... now that he is what, 47 years old?! Now those are parents who should be arrested for child abuse. And murder. Right along with their son. Who knows? Maybe they can all go on the Dr. Phil Show.
The article I read was a blog written by a father who completely disagreed with the woman's discipline effort. He talked about how just the other day one of his twin sons whacked him in the leg with a plastic golf club. The father was angry but held back from physically spanking his son. He put him in a time out instead. Here is my response -- clearly, the kid was little. Talk to me when he hits his teen years and he mouths back at his dad, maybe even shoves him. It happens. Good kids lose their self control just as easily as "bad" kids do. I would seriously like to watch while this dad puts his 16 year old into the time out corner. Teenagers are a very special breed. Just as you are patting yourself on your parental back for raising a kid who, say, puts down the toilet seat after he pees, there you are in the middle of the night, falling into the toilet bowl. Raising teens is a like riding a roller coaster where all the rules get thrown out of the cart. But if you can keep your wits about you and not try too hard to please them and coddle their self-esteem by trying to be their friend, their hormones will eventually settle down and their brains will become clear again. And, God willing, they will remember and appreciate the rules you have taught them nearly every day of their entire life. At least this is what I have been told anyway.
As for the woman on Dr. Phil, I am like whoaaaaa. It's one thing to lose it with your kid and go nuts. I totally understand that. But to videotape it? Really? How fake is that? Am I the only person in the world who thinks the mother staged that scene just so she could get on the Dr. Phil show? I mean here is the deal. You snap at your kid, and smack him one. Nine point nine times out of 10 it's completely impulsive. You are so enraged, it's all you can do at the moment to stop the garbage coming out your kid's mouth, kind of like slapping a hysterical person to shock them out of their craziness. But think about this alleged discipline scene. The kid misbehaves. The mother stops, goes to get the video camera out, sets it up on a tripod and hits "play"after maneuvering the lens to make sure she and the kid are both in the shot. Then she gets the Tabasco sauce out, pours it into her child's mouth, then moves the camera and the kid to the bathroom, puts on the shower and shoves the kid into the shower...that all takes a real lot of time and extra effort. Plenty of time to come to your senses. Unless you are just demented. In which case, I guess she deserves to be on Dr. Phil. And get arrested. More for stupidity than abuse. Again, I am nearly convinced the kid was part of the act. (I did not see the actual video. Maybe she asked someone to film her. Again, more proof that it was staged.)
While there is a definite topic here -- doing weird and repulsive things to get onto tv -- what seems to be catching everyone's judgmental eye is the concept of physical discipline.
I was spanked as a kid. Not a lot, but if I talked back to my mother (and I did) she would smack me one across the mouth. And usually, I thought to myself, whoaa girl, why can you just keep your mouth shut! You deserved that one! I remember once when I was in high school and I was on the phone with my bff, Shelly. She wouldn't stop talking and my mother kept screaming at me to get off of the phone and come to dinner. She came after me with this huge silver serving spoon and started to whack me over the head. I hung up on Shelly while she was in mid-sentence. When Shelly yelled at me the next day for hanging up on her, I showed her the lumps. And I never stayed on the phone when my mother told me to get off again.
Although I don't smack my kids over the head with a spoon, I have been known to put a dab of soap on their tongues when they were little and talked back. And the one who told me "it tasted good," definitely got more soap. I feel like it is my responsibility to society to raise kids who can function on their own in the world by being kind and respectful to others. Like a lioness who will do whatever she has to do to teach her cubs how to obey, I am fierce about instilling the habit of respecting others. There is a reason why kids do stupid things. It's the same reason why they aren't allowed to drive cars or light candles when they are five years old. They are learning. And they are immature. Just like we were immature and did stupid things we shouldn't have done. Our levels of self-control totally sucked. The parents who are afraid of disciplining their immature and impetuous kids are the ones who really scare me. I just don't get it. I mean, that's a huge part of our job as parents, isn't it?
Over 20 years ago, my husband's friend Peter was shot in the back and killed during a dispute with another young man. The guy who shot him was a short kid who allegedly didn't feel 'confident about himself.' Peter was a tough guy who didn't put up with anyone's backtalk. The kid was drunk, and after a minor argument ensued about a drink spilling in the bar, he followed Peter outside. When Peter turned to walk away, he pulled out a gun and shot Peter right there on the sidewalk. He was caught but his wealthy parents allegedly helped him escape the charges by sneaking him out of the country. He just got caught again. He was living in Mexico. Maybe now, finally, he can be disciplined ... now that he is what, 47 years old?! Now those are parents who should be arrested for child abuse. And murder. Right along with their son. Who knows? Maybe they can all go on the Dr. Phil Show.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
One Benefit of All of this Snow? Time to Read!
February 1 -- I have always been a voracious reader but in the last several months, like a smoker who lights his next cigarette with the butt of the one he is just finishing, I have become practically crazed with reading one book after another. It is one of the only things I do (besides eating cookies and chocolate and drinking coffee and wine:) and doing yoga, that centers me. I truly love to read and on days like today, one of my favorite ways to escape from reality is to sneak away from the kids and hide with a good book.
This habit of using literature to escape stems from my childhood when I would often hide behind a tree in my parents' backyard with a book, completely ignoring my mother's calls. In fact, from childhood all the way until I started taking Luke to the library when he was little, I would get so excited every time I went into a public library, I would have to go to the bathroom. Weird, I know. But what is even more weird is how that tingling excitement started to go away when the kids came along and going to the library became more about their joy than mine. (Yes I know. There is an insight about parenting there. Sigh.)
But it's coming back!! (the excitement part, not the urge to go to the public restrooms at the library.) Today, I was so despondent with the thought of two days stuck in this house with the kids who are equally bored and crazed from all of these snow days, I worked for a while on the computer and then I quietly snuck away upstairs. I hid in my room for a few wonderful hours this afternoon and evening (thank you Luke for making dinner!!) and I finished an awesome book, "Unaccustomed Earth" by Jhumpa Lahira, a young Indian writer who also wrote "The Namesake." It's a collection of short stories which focus on love and relationships and striving to be the best you can be in life despite all of its hardships. When I read the last few pages I was overwhelmed with awe for this very talented writer. She just wrapped everything up so beautifully with a dizzying array of emotions -- sadness, horror, joy, love, grief and hope -- a climactic explosion which blows the reader away. Amazing.
What I also liked about the stories was the cultural insight; it was fascinating to read about the lives of the Indian immigrants in the United States. I really respect their unbridled passion to learn, to throw themselves into academia so that they can use their intelligence to help others.
Great book. A definite high for my day. That, and of course, Luke's dinner. (And Riley's bisquits.)
This habit of using literature to escape stems from my childhood when I would often hide behind a tree in my parents' backyard with a book, completely ignoring my mother's calls. In fact, from childhood all the way until I started taking Luke to the library when he was little, I would get so excited every time I went into a public library, I would have to go to the bathroom. Weird, I know. But what is even more weird is how that tingling excitement started to go away when the kids came along and going to the library became more about their joy than mine. (Yes I know. There is an insight about parenting there. Sigh.)
But it's coming back!! (the excitement part, not the urge to go to the public restrooms at the library.) Today, I was so despondent with the thought of two days stuck in this house with the kids who are equally bored and crazed from all of these snow days, I worked for a while on the computer and then I quietly snuck away upstairs. I hid in my room for a few wonderful hours this afternoon and evening (thank you Luke for making dinner!!) and I finished an awesome book, "Unaccustomed Earth" by Jhumpa Lahira, a young Indian writer who also wrote "The Namesake." It's a collection of short stories which focus on love and relationships and striving to be the best you can be in life despite all of its hardships. When I read the last few pages I was overwhelmed with awe for this very talented writer. She just wrapped everything up so beautifully with a dizzying array of emotions -- sadness, horror, joy, love, grief and hope -- a climactic explosion which blows the reader away. Amazing.
What I also liked about the stories was the cultural insight; it was fascinating to read about the lives of the Indian immigrants in the United States. I really respect their unbridled passion to learn, to throw themselves into academia so that they can use their intelligence to help others.
Great book. A definite high for my day. That, and of course, Luke's dinner. (And Riley's bisquits.)
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