From the Mouths

I don't know why this struck me funny, but maybe it's because he doesn't realize that there are cliques, groups, or what have you.

"Mom, we sit at the same table every day for lunch. And, amazingly, no one else sits there. It's just there, empty, like it's waiting for us."

And so it begins.

Homework Sucks

This is the face that greets me over homework every evening. I love his school, don't get me wrong, but at this point in the year, I'm ready to tell all the teachers to shove it.

When it comes to homework, being a parent requires striking a tenuous balance between helping and doing it for them. I absolutely refuse to do it for him, so sometimes, this means sitting back while imperfections slide on by. Young One is a great student. He's been in high performance classes the whole time he's been at this elementary school. He's been challenged, but not frustrated with the challenges. He's been taught with the love and caring that comes from truly dedicated educators.

We moved to this community because of the school district, but we moved to this specific neighborhood because of the specific elementary, middle, and high schools that Young One would attend. They're the best of the district. Routinely score in the upper 90th percentile nationwide. They hire the cream of the crop. His elementary school applied for grant money many years ago to cover the cost of additional conferences at the beginning of the year. These conferences happen well before the teachers have gotten to know the kids. It's our chance, as parents, to tell them everything we know about our children. It's a great way to start off the year and I'm not aware of any other schools that do this. (If you don't, push your PTA to raise the money to cover the cost of the substitute teachers for those conferences! It's a great way to communicate with a teacher and start to help him/her get to know your kid.)

I'm often surprised at how many people move into a community knowing nothing about the schools. If you have kids, how could you not? I mean, just because the picket fences all gleam with fresh paint, the houses are gorgeous, and the Stepford Wives all march in rows, doesn't mean the schools are good. Cross over the border into other districts close to mine and you find mismanagement, no high performance classes, and impoverished budgets. Someone once told me that many teachers in these other districts don't even have education degrees. I can't imagine.

We're heading into Spring Break next week, which is so great. I can't imagine a year without these breathers. In my opinion, kids learn the best when they have long stretches of time to just explore on their own. For this very reason alone, I would never put my kid in year round school and would fight it tooth and nail if our district ever considered it. A community close to my hometown tried year round school and it didn't work. The sports kids still had to practice and compete during their off weeks and they found a year without summer break created stressed out kids. Their discipline problems skyrocketed and the district soon reverted back to a traditional school year. The energy savings that the district was supposed to have didn't pan out as they expected (This was the given reason for year round school. Supposedly, not heating the building during their winter break weeks was supposed to save them tons of money. It didn't.)

After Spring Break, we usually start our countdown to the big summer break. Young One is SO excited about middle school. Right now, he and his friends are too cool for the "babyish" stuff of elementary school. It's a fun time for me, sitting back and watching this awkward age. Summer will be filled with long stretches of days that blur together. Playdates stretch into sleep overs. There is that inability as a kid to see the end of such a long season, so it spans out into infinity. What bliss! I watch my tightly wound kid slowly unwind and just play to his heart's content.

Can't wait!

But, for now, it's away with the homework and on to some Spring Break Fun. We have some and no plans. We just want to sleep in and see what the days bring. Supposedly we're doing to have really warm weather here in the Tundra. So, it will be a good time to take some day trips.

Mom, I Don't Feel So Good

Sick day today. Poor kid has 101 degree temp and feels just like "crap" to quote him.

I don't know how I did this when I worked full time. How do you do it?

All I had to do was cancel coffee with some girlfriends and do my errands another day. I've spent today playing nurse, boredom buster, and mom.

And you know what? I love my job! I'm so lucky and blessed to be able to be at home again.

Footprints to a Friends House

I just love these footprints running across our yard. Neighborhood friends are the best!

Whining is Good for the Soul

"I don't want to go to school today."

"Um, kid, neither do I."

We were whiners this morning. That first day back to school after vacation is rough. Why is it you can continue to get up early throughout most of a vacation, but then the first day back, your alarm will jerk you awake? I swear, we could have slept until noon today.

Young One and I talked about how there isn't one kid that's just dying to go to school on this day. Sort of misery loves company. All uniting as one displeased crowd today. He found it astonishing when I told him that there isn't one adult that's just dying to get back into the routine today. (Like we're all just bounding out of bed saying, "Yes! I get to slog to work today." Or "Fantastic, the dirty bathrooms and mountain of laundry are calling my name!")

We were both better by the time we drove to school for early orchestra practice. Yes, of course, the first day back we have to get there EVEN earlier! (insert whining tone here) I truly believe that a little whining is good for you. Get it out there and over with. As long as you're not making a day long habit of it, whine away.

I was raised to hold it in, always paste a smile on your face, don't talk about it, and pretend everything is always OK. That can be so very damaging. I suppose that's why we talk and talk and talk in our family. I'm always pushing my guys to talk it out, talk to each other, let your feelings out. You feel better once you do.

Now, if I could just approve of procrastination and avoidance. Somehow, I just can't rationalize why I'm sitting here typing and not working out! All right, all right, I'm going!

She's not MY Mom

Aside from the fact that I walked around with my zipper down all morning today, I had a pretty good day. I'd like to think I did it intentionally, you know, sort of like spreading holiday cheer, making people laugh. But, I think it's because my pants are too big and the zipper doesn't lock well. Not a good combination.


These sort of things don't bother me. I can laugh things off pretty easily. Not so, my Young One. Perhaps it's just this age, but I feel as if we've entered a whole new planet. Pre-teen Pluto. Didn't they take away Pluto's planetary status, though? What a bummer that must have been for all those poor Pluto-ites.


I can't do much that doesn't embarrass him in public. I won't hug him, smile, tell jokes, or in any way show that I have a relationship with him. It's sort of an unwritten rule we have. Privately, at home, I'll tease him on ways that I could embarrass him if I chose to do so. Or, I'll reminisce about the time my dad picked me up from school wearing his 1957 letter jacket (ripped, torn, and worn to shreds), his pull on muck boots, complete with assorted muck, and his underwear showing through the tear in his pants (This, before that was the style. These were the Preppy years of plaid skirts and argyle). I was mortified.


At home, however, he still calls me Mommy. I love that.

I remember this age very well. Feeling so self conscious about everything. Your feet are too big for your body, it seems. You're awkward and trip or knock things over easily. Perhaps it's just that you're humiliated at the normal bumbling that comes with being a human being. Heck, I drop things, fall down, and am just generally clumsy and I'm almost forty! I don't know, though. It must be more like your body is growing disproportionately and just when you think you have your spacial relations figured out, you grow out of them.

Remember that age? When you start noticing people as more than just that guy in your math class, but he's THAT guy in your math class. Remember, after your health class on reproductive health, when you realize that your parents have had sex? It's about this age. Remember blushing at everything? Remember feeling like you walked around with a spotlight focused on you and that everything you did or said was under scrutiny by all your peers?

There's nothing easy about it. You just have to slog through and be mortified and embarrassed and sensitive. It's part of figuring out who you are. I have to admit, I'm both enjoying and sympathizing with Young One as he goes through this age. Every day that he gets older, the problems become bigger. A slight by a good friend at a party can wound deeply. Then in the next moment, he's trying to impress our neighbor's son (who's OLDER) by speaking with a deep voice.

A friend that I worked with long ago told me that your kids need you more as they grow older. She was so right. It's nice to know I'm still needed. Just please, give me wisdom to say and do the right things.

Our Rockin' New Year's Eve

Our house is rockin' this evening. Young One has three friends over and they're playing Rock Band in the basement Kid Cave. I'm alternating between laughing at some of the singing and crying because I'm no longer anything other than the ride and pizza provider.

In the past, we've always had a seafood feast at home on New Year's Eve. Going out is way too expensive and I hate being on the roads this night. We'd buy a case of crab legs from a restaurant supply and then share with friends or family. It was fun, but this seems like a new tradition developing.

He's getting older and I can see the next few years as filled with gatherings like this. Pretty soon there will be girls here too, I'm assuming. I told D that if they play Seven Minutes in Heaven with the girls in my laundry room, I'll just die.

We're enjoying some Chinese food, a movie, and some guilt free Internet surfing while sharing some smiles over the giggles emitting from the basement. It seems a lot of people are staying home tonight. There were tons of people at the grocery store and at the library checking out videos. I don't know if it's the economy or if people are like us, and just want to stay close to home tonight. It feels like we've turned a page. New tradition, same location.

Funny how life marches on.

Happy New Year!

Dinner in a Minute

We moms juggle. When I think about my life as a mom, I picture myself mentally, juggling. I've never mastered the skill of really juggling, I've tried several times and ended up once with a black eye from an apple (a brilliant episode in my life). Shortly after that I had to go to an emergency room for an unrelated problem. I was asked by no less than a dozen well-meaning medical people if I felt safe in my home. Number one it was a dorm, so really, the answer was no, but I didn't dare. Number two, I don't know how many times you can say, "I'm fine. I was attacked by fruit while attempting a circus act because my chemistry grade wasn't what it was supposed to be and I was looking into alternate careers."

When I later became a registered nurse and had to bumble my way through ER rotation, I found that most of workers had great senses of humor. Apparently, none of them were on duty that night.

I'm wandering again. It's all this juggling. It's like my brain is juggling and I'm madly typing to keep up with it and I can't quite make it and I really want to make a point, but

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Deep Breath.

I believe that moms do more than multi-task. Muti-tasking is for whimps. I mean, right now, I've got laundry tumbling, dinner bubbling, I'm on the phone with the laptop repair man, I'm writing, I'm carrying on an IM conversation with my husband, and I'm petting the dog with one foot and shoving Tech Decks under the couch with the other (Don't ask. I'm attempting to teach Young One the answer to what happens when you leave your teeny toy skateboards in an area where your mom, in bare feet will step on them while carrying a large load of laundry in a basket which will launch six feet in the air while she screams in pain and angst and watches several hours of folding and sock matching scatter on the floor of the family room. Yes, probably the best answer would be to have him help clean up the mess, but he wasn't going to be home for hours and I'm just waiting for him to ask, "Where are my Tech Decks?" And of course my response will be, "I have no idea. You'd better search the house.")

Where was I?

Oh yes, juggling.

Have you ever had one of those days where you're running around doing all the assorted things it takes to make a home a home and it's about a half an hour until dinner time and you have no idea what you're making? You know, those days when you:

• put the covers back on all the kitchen switches and outlets because they've been off for a project for forever


• find the replacement shoelace to a shoe because the first one was used to swing Spiderman across a room and didn't survive the trip


• menu plan while keeping within the budget and finding meals that your kid won't turn his nose up at (or you hubby either)


• fish Matchbox car parts out of the dryer vent (don't ask)


• try to figure out how to clean between that impossible to reach without moving the entire oven crack between the stove and the cabinets
  
• cut all the coupons that you've left in a pile to cut and then realize you didn't know about most of them when you were menu planning


• curse menu planning and coupons and anything else that has to do with trying to save money and budgeting and grocery shopping


• water the plants and accidentally water the dog requiring a towel and a milkbone for the dog and a mop for the floor


• decide once and for all that cleaning between the stove and the cabinets can happen when we need a new oven


• make some laundry detergent (this isn't as weird as it sounds, search under homemade cleaners and you'll find my powdered recipe) I made liquid today. More details later.


• wipe off the counters for the 400th time in one day


• bake a cake


• coordinate a playdate


• do at least 700 loads of laundry


• realize you forgot to renew the tabs on your car, so you quick run to the licensing office to take a number, wait in line, and then have them skip your number, so you have to make a scene to get service, and everyone in the office looks at you like you're completely looney.


• get home after receiving new license plates that look awfully funny because they're no longer embossed, but printed digitally, and learn that you can't get the bolts off the old license plate by yourself. And this pains you. Oh, it's awful, because you want to be an independent woman and really don't want to ask your husband to help you with something that he can easily do in five minutes and you curse your wimpy upper arm strength and vow to do more push ups and bicep curls and you'll lateral raise until your delts are steaming.
  
  
• Sort through the giant pile of mittens and gloves and hats and scarves and realize there are no matching pairs and the hats are all too small for Young One's winter wardrobe.
  
• Clean a bathroom.
  
• Walk with cleaning supplies into another bathroom and stand in a stupor wondering how two human beings can make such a mess in such a short time. Scowl at what looks at an entire tube of toothpaste in the sink. Wonder for two seconds how and why it's there. Entertain the thought of running away to Tahiti rather than cleaning it up. While cleaning it up, realize this is why Mrs. Cleaver took valium.
  
• Greet the child as he arrives home, hoping to appear like Mrs. Cleaver minus the apron and the valium.
  

I have to say, the meet and greet is one of the best parts of my day. I love to see Young One's first smile. I love to just listen, not ask a bunch of questions, but just listen to his day. I love to watch him devour a snack. When I had my business, I didn't get to have this precious time with him. I was too busy and too overwhelmed with all the work to be done that there was really only time for a quick hug and to get him settled before I had to head back to the desk. I do have to be thankful, though, that I rarely had to miss being the person he saw when he got off the bus. That was one perk of being a business owner--I set my own schedule!

Then, all of a sudden, the dinner hour is looming down on me. And with any luck, I've planned something and it's happily defrosted in the fridge. There are those days, though, when last minute dinner planning does happen. Thankfully, I usually have something around the house for just such a day. Sometimes it's breakfast for dinner, sometimes it's jazzed up sandwiches, sometimes frozen pizza and a tossed salad, sometimes the leftover buffet.

Pasta is almost always an option. This is one of our favorites. Don't try to juggle this recipe. It pretty much needs your entire attention for about 7 minutes. You can do it. Focus.

Shrimp Noodle Bowls

This recipe is quick to the table and delightfully delicious. Shrimp and pasta tossed with veggies in an Asian sauce. Please use your recipe builder to confirm Weight Watchers Points. It all depends on the ingredients you use. My recipe below is approximately 7 Points per serving and serves 6 generously.

1 box Ronzoni spaghetti (or other high fiber pasta)

1 bunch green onions, cleaned and chopped

1 bag broccoli cole slaw

1 16 ounce bag of medium-sized, cooked shrimp, thaw under cold, running water and drain well

Light Asian salad dressing--Ken's Steak House brand is great, Newman's Own is fab

Cook pasta as directed. Meanwhile, heat a skillet over medium high heat, spray with nonstick cooking spray, add onions and cook until tender. Remove from heat and set aside until pasta is done and draining. Place pan back on medium-high heat and add shrimp and broccoli slaw. Stir fry until crisp tender. Add noddles and toss to combine. Add Asian salad dressing, approximately 1/4 cup at a time, until noodles are coated and flavors are combined.

Add any veggies you have around. Peapods and red peppers would be delightful additions.

This is great with fresh mangoes topped with a little coconut for dessert.

The picture above is a delightful creation by ChimeraCrochet. Please visit her etsy store. I find her work filled with whimsy. She's very talented.

I Got the Look

An Early Version of The Look

No, I'm not quoting Sheena Easton. And for those of you that are too young to remember Sheena, shame on you. OK, now did I remember that song correctly? Shame on me. "You've got the look. somethin something somethin my book..."

I'm getting old.

The look I'm talking about is the one I've been waiting a long time to receive. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. When it did, it shook me to the core. I wasn't prepared.

You know what it's like to be the bad guy all the time? I mean, the bad mom. The one who makes sure the vitamins are taken, vegetables eaten, doctor appointments kept, right clothes are worn, and teeth are brushed. Sometimes I find myself biting my tongue and thinking, "pick your battles." This wasn't one of those times, though.

I had to step in. You see, we got our first few flakes of snow today. It didn't stick around for long once it hit the ground, but this morning's trek to the bus stop was wet and slushy. Time to put the Crocs, with their strategically placed holes just perfect for soaking toes, away. Young One wanted no part of this, so he glared at me, defiantly put on his hiking shoes and headed out the door. And right before he left, without saying a word and definitely not speaking to me (something that has never happened before either!), he shot me The Look.

You know The Look. It's in caps for a reason. It's The Look that we gave our parents when we started exercising that age old quest for independence. The Look that says, you're so mean and I don't care, but I'm going to shoot you this Look so that you hurt to the core because I'll do what you say, but I'm not going to like it. I think it's basically the double evil eye, but honed to perfection by several hundred years of genetic mutations.

The Look, coupled with the silent treatment hit me so hard, I started to cry. I wasn't quite ready for it and before I could put on my Mom Mask of Steel, I lost it.

Through my tears, I said goodbye and that you shouldn't leave anyone in anger--that's a hard and fast rule in our home. But, he was strong. He held forth and strutted to the bus stop where he ignored the neighbors and stared up at the snowflakes coming down.

I watched out the living room window (from a safe distance from the windows--I didn't want him to see me!!), trying to come to terms with the fact that he just might leave without fixing things.

And then he ran home, gave me a huge hug, and said, "I'm sorry Mommy." I forgave him and he got back to the stop just in time to hop on the bus. (And yes, he still calls me Mommy. I'm waiting for the day when some cruel kid makes fun of him for this, but oh well. I think in public I may be Mom, but at home I get the extra m and the finishing y.)

Maybe I am doing something right.

This growing older business is difficult on us moms. The problems get so much bigger and there are more emotions involved. I'm not looking forward to the emotional stuff that goes along with being a pre-teen and eventually, a full blown raging bag of hormones.

Young One has never given us a bit of trouble. If anything, he goes beyond overboard when it comes to rules and has a hard time prying the stick out of his heiney to have a good time. He's the kid that will button his polo shirt up to the top for school pictures and dreamed of being on the school patrol early in his elementary school career. Now that he is one, Bus Cop is the formal title, the power and authority can go to his head! He likes clear expectations, clear rules. Thank goodness for his tender heart and his sense of humor!

Maybe he'll rebel. He'll become a Republican (sorry my Red friends, but I just had to get that in!) He won't recycle. He'll refuse to eat his carrots. He'll (gasp) stand up on the bus while the vehicle is in motion (Section 4, Article 2a of the Bus Cop Code).

The Look, though, it scared me. I think I'm going to have to start taking some lessons or rely on my mom friends who've survived these trying years. If this is just the beginning, I'm in trouble.

Mom, Lighten Up and Enjoy Halloween!

I love this blog. The Educated Plate. She's so informative about nutrition and what I like most of all, she advocates balance. Love it! I've shamelessly borrowed the title from her post, linked in below.

If you're thinking about giving your kids homemade fruit leather, high fiber granola, or a hunk of sweetened tofu and calling it a celebration, then click here. I can't say it any better than she did.

This intervention is for your own good. Lighten up and enjoy the holiday. Joy is so limited these days. Our country is so sad. Celebrate. It'll do ya good--and a little high fructose corn syrup won't hurt you. In fact, it might just sweeten you up.

Happy Halloween!

(And if it absolutely kills you to go out trick or treating with your kids, then hand out campaign materials--or stuff a Tootsie Pop in your mouth and shut it. I dare you not to smile when you see your kids scampering around spreading joy. And when they get home, I dare you not to dig through their stash to find your favorite!)

I've been voyaging on to other blogs and I've seen so many moms going overboard and being hypervigilent about this holiday. I truly believe that if you deprive, as The Educated Plate says, it will "lead to greater temptation and desire down the road". That is so true.

My son is eleven. He has a few friends that come from households that limit. They limit computer time, video games, monitor the books their kids choose and read. There are weird dietary specifications and rules about what they can and can't eat. Do they follow these limits at my house? Not really. I'm not going to be policing other people's children at my house. Don't get me wrong, I do believe in everything in moderation and I'll try to make sure the kids are doing what they should be. But, these kids that have so much micromanaging of their time and diet and reading by their parents CANNOT control themselves when they're on their own. They don't have the tools to do so because someone else has always guided them. And when they're away from their parents, they go nuts.

How do I approach this? Well, my job as a mom has been to prepare my son for life away from me. What good would it do for me to micromanage him? He certainly wouldn't be able to survive away from home if he couldn't learn self limitation, right? So, we've taught him how to make good decisions, using his own mind and abilities. If it's a nice day outside (we live in MInnesota, the weather rules our lives!), why would you stay inside and play video games? If you're getting frustrated by a game, if it's making your heart race and your face flush, take a break as this isn't good for your body in the longterm. If a book seems too scary or upsetting or seems against your values, then quit reading it.

If we moms are there for every little decision, how will they learn? What about life experience? We all remember a stomach ache from too much candy. What valuable lesson did you learn from that? Perhaps that's where moderation in all things starts revealing itself to us human beings as such a valuable life lesson. So, hey, couldn't Halloween be a vehicle for this very valuable life lesson?

I think you make a great mistake if you voyage forward from the infancy and toddler stages of parenting, where their every need is met by you, and still try to orchestrate their every move as they grow older. Once they've reached this independent stage, you've got to let go and let them live a little. As well, you can't let every day, every minute feel like a crucial, critical decision that might very well jeopardize your child's well being.

In other words, lighten up.

You'll be a better mother, a better parent, if you look at the big picture. The big picture, as in, a day of candy never hurt anyone. In fact, for many of us, Halloween stands out with very vivid and happy memories of our childhood. I wouldn't want to deny my son that joy.

We've seen a trend in the past few years. Schools no longer celebrating Halloween, but having a HARVEST festival. Churches preaching against the evils of trick or treating and the holiday in general. Health nuts preaching against the dangers of high fructose corn syrup.

Come on people. Let's just settle down and enjoy the season, set aside some of this policing of our kids, and just let them have fun. That, outweighs any negative effects of the experience.

(Oh and please don't comment about Young One having weapons in the above picture. Once again, I'm going to give you a big eye roll and a "lighten up." He was New Goblin last year from Spiderman. The sword and knife were all part of the costume. We're a peaceful family, but hey, you've got to have a big sword to be New Goblin. It's required. Boys will make guns out of their fingers and swords out of sticks if they have nothing else!)

The Cold Cruel World

We moms have years of life experience from which to teach our children, but there's nothing like the cold cruel world to provide valuable life experiences of their own. "It's in the fine print," the sales clerk told me today when I tried to pick up the much awaited for Spiderman video game. Today, as touted by all the websites, magazines, and kid discussions on the bus is the release date. Turns out, the release date really means the ship date, the crabby clerk informed me. "You don't understand," I said, "I have to go home and explain this to my eleven year old. He's not going to understand it as anything, but unfair and you know what, I highly agree with him." I'm sure you can imagine the blank stare I received in response. God bless those of you that work in retail. I could never do it. I was the nicest mom he faced.

Duped again by marketing geniuses. I'm sure they're sure that the buyers of these games, mostly kids under the age of sixteen, will come in today (having not read the find print) and that the vast majority of them will buy something else today just to make up for hurt feelings and to fill the now vacant twenty four hours until the actual release. They know that they'll return again tomorrow to pick up the much awaited game. They hype up these games for ages touting release dates that seem impossibly far in the future. Young One even puts them on our family calendar. He starts to count the days as soon as they announce them. Changes in release dates can throw off his entire day and these do happen, I suppose technical difficulties or whatever can change these things.

Young One loves his video games. He's great at not overdoing them, we taught him early on to figure out cues that his body has had enough, such as a racing heart and flushed face and he follows those cues well and takes breaks as needed. I don't believe that strongly forbidding anything with kids works well. Kids usually then set the forbidden object or privilege on a high pedestal and cannot control themselves when granted unsupervised access. We think kids need to be exposed to and fluent in the use of all the latest technology, after all, this is going to be their world. So, Young One is a great typist, he can surf the Internet with ease, and he knows how to use almost all forms of technology. He also knows what's off limits or inappropriate and how to handle it.

I'm rambling again. Apologies.

I have to look on today's situation as an opportunity to teach, however difficult it is, that the world isn't always fair. We just had the greatest conversation about how misleading people can be hurtful and that it's OK to speak out in protest, as long as it is appropriate in its delivery. We will voice our opinion on this to the company and most likely direct it to the CEO. Those letters usually get answered as long as they are presented in a relatively positive light! As well, we will remember that deceit, on any level, hurts people and we'll go above and beyond being clear and true to everyone that we encounter.

Completely and Utterly Alone... And Enjoying the Company

I'm almost at the end of my long weekend alone.

I have to tell you. As a mom, I've never felt more rejuvenated in my life.

My thoughts have been my own and uninterrupted. I've just wandered and done only things that are enjoyable. No chores, no work, no nothing, unless I wanted to do it. I got to shop a little, went to the salon, chatted with friends, and went to Target without ever setting foot in the Lego aisle.

It has been bliss.

After speaking to a number of moms this weekend, I'm left wondering. Why don't we do this more often? I mean, you know you need a break when you jump into action at the high pitched whine of "Maaaaaahuuuuuummmmm" from some radom kid in the mall--that's about where I was before this weekend. When I almost introduced myself to a new parent at school as "Mom" I knew it was time. When I could remember all the rules to Life, the Simpsons version, but not my own Social Security Number, it was time.

I don't want to wait this long before getting another true break. There's something about getting to know yourself again that is so delightful. Please, get something on the calendar NOW. Set aside some time and don't make any concrete plans. Just let the time happen.

And as I say this, I realize, I need to make sure Hubby gets the same thing too. It's only fair.

Bad Mom, Oh the Guilt

Today is field trip day to a local nature center for Young One. It's on, rain or shine, the permission slip said. And it's pouring. And, what do we find out this morning? His, what I thought was a rain jacket, is not really a rain jacket. It's a wind breaker.

I just got off the phone with a friend of mine who is chaperoning the field trip. She said, isn't it great that we'll find out that their rain gear works before the four day fifth grade trip this weekend? I told her our situation and the hope that they wouldn't be outside all day. She was silent. I asked her to give him a garbage bag if it gets bad. She laughed.

The guilt. I feel so bad.

This is supposed to be my job and I royally screwed up today. I hate this feeling.

I am the Toilet Paper Fairy

I am the CEO of our Home. The Queen of the Clean Latrine. Domestic Goddess is an understatement. I am a stay at home mom. Oh, I've been a working mom too, don't jump on me. Neither is harder than the other, but I will find that my current job comes with much less guilt than the other.

Watching Oprah yesterday, she featured "The Country's Most Hated Mom". You remember the story of the mom who was a vice principal (I think) of an elementary school. On a busy day, with her young child sleeping in the back of her car, she bypassed the daycare drop off and headed straight to work. Eight hours later, her daughter was discovered, dead of heat stroke, in the back of the car. A horrific story. A horrible accident. No one was to blame.

I'm not going to talk about the craziness of mom's lives and the busy schedules that we lead, whether working or "not" (which are you kidding me? I work all day at home!). I'm not going to go into our first thought at this story: how could you forget your child? She didn't forget her child, she was just juggling and rushing and racing and their schedule had changed (dad usually dropped off the wee ones) and a horrible, horrible thing happened. I forgive her. She will never forgive herself, so adding to that is really a waste of our time.

So, why am I writing this? Well, it's because there are so many things that we moms juggle on a daily basis. Terrible accidents like this are rare, but what happened after she told her story was so interesting. Oprah had opened an anonymous phone line to let mothers call in their stories of being overwhelmed. She shared other stories of braver women who faced the camera and talked about their insane schedules and their thinly stretched selves. They all cried out for understanding, help, sympathy, and for a chance to just vent.

I think what people don't realize is that there's only so much that our brains can handle at once, but yet, we try to cram in even more. We live in a fast-paced world and I don't think we're any better for it. Information comes at us at lightening speed, people work harder and longer than any time in the past, and crazy schedules are the norm. I'm lucky, in some respects, that I only have one child. After having five miscarriages and being denied adoption due to a medical condition, I never thought I would say that. (I guess I'm finally in the acceptance stage--yeah!) Last night, while helping with homework, I was also: cleaning the kitchen, refilling a prescription, filling out a permission slip, writing a check, writing a list, crossing off on the list, feeding the fish and the dogs, having a conversation with D about our kitchen floor, answering an email, and looking for some cough drops while trying to figure out just what a factor is so I don't look stupid when Young One asks another question and thinking that I should just sneak over to my laptop and Google "factor", but then can I really be that old that I can't remember what it is and then it comes back to me and...

Deep Breath.

Sometimes I think if you could look inside the mind of a mom you would see a whole circus spinning around with jugglers, clowns, gymnasts, daredevils, and that obligatory little girl over in the corner crying into her cotton candy because she's afraid of the clowns. The lion tamer is cracking the whip and somewhere in there is a Ringmaster who's so freaking tired of managing the whole thing that she's ready just to drop. (But, she looks good in her black pants and snappy red blazer!)

Now, back to the title. Just where did I come up with that anyway? Well, you see, it comes from just one of the many invisible jobs that I do around the house to keep it running smoothly. Oddly enough, in a house with three bathrooms, one that I rarely use, it seems that I am the only one that can change the toilet paper. Sometimes, there will be two squares on the roll, but no one has changed it (Am I alone here?). I've threatened, cajoled, nagged, but to no avail. My question of, "Could you use two squares to do the job?" has gone unanswered. Some day. SOME DAY. I am going to hide all those full rolls that are always available under the cabinet, leave the two squares on the holder and make sure not another paper product is in sight, and wait for my trap to spring. I'll be nowhere near the bathroom, but within earshot, and laugh gleefully when I hear the, "Hey, where's the toilet paper?!!"

I'm rambling again, aren't I?

I do a lot of invisible jobs. Toilet paper fairy is just one of them. Here are some more:

• Warm Feet Fiend (Bathroom Rug Cleaner) Young One thought I just "bought new or somethin' "



• Flame Thrower. (Oven cleaner) Yes, we do have an automatic one, but someone has got to wipe it out.



• Refrigerator Deep Sea Diver and Brave Explorer. I do delve into the nether regions and open containers that only a mom could look into and survive the smell. I also have been known to fight toxic spills to the death.



• Milk Maid. No matter how fast you drink it or how slow it goes, we will never go without. Your cereal is safe.



• Junk Mail Banisher. There will be no recyclable junk mail that doesn't meet my wrath.



• Dr. PooLittle. OK, I stole this from a dog poop clean up service, but it's way to cute. Yes, I do the doo, occasionally.



• Juliet the French Maid. No, not what you think, that would be too obvious. But, I do clean and make beds every day.

I'm running out of time, so I can't write more. But, I think you understand what I'm getting at. We moms juggle. When you work outside the home, you juggle even more. Sometimes it goes unnoticed all that we do and that can be extremely frustrating, but I think dads do the same. When was the last time you thanked your spouse or partner for a little thing? Maybe if we start doing that, our little things will get noticed too!

On a side note, I've tried to offer up prayers for this poor woman who lost her daughter. I get a little dumbstruck, though. I can't find the words. So, I'm just sending up some positive prayers for some healing and for some peace. Anything else, would be impossible. She was very brave to tell her story and perhaps, she can find some solace that because of her, many others will not make the same mistake.

My Favorite Day: Eleven Ten Year Old Boys--the aftermath

I think this was the last big group birthday party. Well at least until there's a milestone celebration, like 16. Perhaps I've said this in years past. When the aftermath of the birthday party is still surrounding me, it's hard to want to host another one. I think there are at least 7,000 little pieces of plastic masquerading as presents floating around our first floor. I just spoke in tongues when I stepped, barefoot, on a Lego on the way to the kitchen.

Here I sit in our family room, blogging and catching up on the happenings on Wisteria Lane. The party was Saturday, but I was too wiped out to write then, plus we had family guests that night too. Young One spiked a 102 fever the night of his party and then again Sunday night. So, I've been pretty busy and pretty tired being up all night. According to the doctor, he has a sinus infection and she's pretty sure he has strep, although he didn't test positive for it the first time around. He has a horrible sore throat and is talking like he has marbles in it. That, and the fever, are pretty sure signs for him. Oh well, regardless of what he has, he's being treated. He's home again today and seems a little better, despite not eating.

What is it about kids not eating that gets us moms all worried? It's not like he's wasting away, it's just a couple days of bomb pops and white grape juice. He'll survive. But, I digress.

Back to the party. The original guest list had about 25 kids, but we had to pare it down. This was such a great group. Of course, there was a clinker or two (but only briefly), and for the most part, they were really well behaved.

Here are some highlights:

• The Red Team demolished the Green Team at laser tag. However, I was informed that there were several malfunctioning guns on the Green Team, so there had to be a rematch. I believe all the subsequent games were ties. I may have the colors wrong, so if I discuss this later with Young One, I'll just play along. I have no idea what team was the supreme ruler of the universe, but I do know, they were sweaty, giggling, and grinning after every game.



• The Darth Vader cake did semi-permanently stain their mouths black. They loved it! Mission accomplished. Thank you Magic Byerly's Cake Ladies



• If you pull hard enough on the ticket dispensers in the arcade, more come out, but to use the word of the week, it's totally "random".



• The automatic climbing wall thingie was driven by body weight. Most could make it go, but of course we had one that couldn't get it to move and one who's body weight kept it at warp speed.



• If you pull on the controls of the bumper cars a certain way, it makes an extremely horrendous sound. If you all do it at once, the odd dude running the ride will call you all Asswipes. Well, not so the kids can hear it, but I heard it enough to find it extremely funny. Poor guy. That job must be hell.



• Eleven boys and not even one armpit fart noise the entire time. I think this is a record.



• Eleven boys and only one slight injury--a couple of skinned knees.



• Eleven boys can go through an 18 whole miniature golf game in less than 10 minutes. I think I owe the poor little girl and her awestruck parents that were ahead of us a pony and a couple of t-bone steaks. They were relatively good sports and were seriously stunned by the force and speed with which our group played.



• Eleven boys with marshmallow guns will make your front yard look like a snow storm passed through. I bought the guns wholesale on ebay. Cost was about a buck a piece, so much cheaper than making them.



• Birds don't like marshmallows. Bummer. I think the squirrels do though!



• My van smells like feet, I can't get the song I Like to Move It out of my head (it's required birthday party cd play), and I'm still smiling at the kid who told me he hasn't had this much fun since Christmas.

Apparently, according to some of the other moms, I've been voted the cool mom. I've never felt more honored. I do enjoy them all and have always loved to hang with the kids. They're so honest and kind and don't carry all that stuff that adults do.

Young One has awesome friends. They're a great mix and his best friends are just amazing. These kids! I can see them several years from now as big guys, wearing Axe cologne and going to the prom. I actually can envision them driving (shudder) and going through teen angst together. I can see the men they're going to be. What a great bunch. Polite, fun and funny, cute, and kind. I hope they never change.

I'm off to Google "how to get feet smell out of your van". Oy.

Declaration of Independence

Officially, my job as a parent has an objective and that is to make sure my son is equipped with the ability to live on his own. I must make sure that he is constantly challenged with independence. And while that might sound like a huge challenge, it really isn't. I mean, kids come with this inner drive to be independent. Ask any mother of a two year old and she'll laugh when you talk about her little one saying, "I can do it myself." And she'll roll her eyes if you ask her how long it took her little sprite to get herself dressed that morning (and most likely, the conversation will lead to just how long her kiddo has been wearing her brother's Batman costume and rain boots.)

I guess what I'm trying to say, is that Young One is a pretty independent kid. Now, this does come with a price, as in, cleaning up the kitchen (with his help, of course) after he's successfully splattered Chicken Noodle-Os all over the stove, counter, and floor. But, he had to learn how to not make a mess and the best way to learn that lesson is to have to clean up one of your own in the first place!

At this point in his rearing (a strange word, if I do say so myself), I've realized that it would take MORE work to do for him than it does to have him do something himself. So, perhaps we've turned a bit of a corner. Our relationship now is more about guidance, friendship, and laundry. I guide, we hang out together, and he produces a lot of laundry. Actually, he helps with the laundry too, so that's not even that bad.

I know a lot of parents who won't let their kids grow independent and I wonder what price this smothering has on their children. Is it that they need to be needed, need to guarantee that they have this job called parenting. Is it that they can't stand the thought of the messes that might initially result from independent exploration in the kitchen or that their kid just might not get the bathtub as sparkling clean as they can? Or worse yet, that they might suffer some freak accident, getting soap in their eyes or cutting themselves on a butter knife? These things may all very well happen, but they may not, as my dear old dad used to say.

As parents, we give roots and wings to our kids. Sometimes the wings are harder to give. I'll admit, that only having one child, I don't have room for mistakes (not like you think of your kids as spares, but I have only one chance to do this job). So, I can be a little overprotective when it comes to independent voyages to the men's room or riding his bike alone to a friend's house. But, when it comes to independent life skills, I'm all over it. Fly, Young One, fly. I'd much rather stand back and watch him succeed after many failures than fail to let him succeed.