Living The Hair Book…

Hair, hair, it’s everywhere! On the rug, and in the air…

OK, OK, maybe that’s not how the children’s book goes, but it’s how things are in my house! No matter how often we dust, vacuum, or nuclear bomb the house, there seem to be hairballs disguised as tumbleweeds rolling around on both carpeted and uncarpeted surface alike no more than 5 minutes later.

:::sigh:::

It’s tough, with 3 dogs and 2 cats! It’s even tougher that my business office is at home, because while the kids are at school (or wherever) and my husband is offsite at his office, I get completely distracted when I inevitably get tripped by one of those tumbleweeds when I’m on my way to the bathroom. Where the heck did THAT come from? I vacuumed at lunch time, for Pete’s sake! I can almost hear the theme of The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.

My kids don’t understand my angst, and neither does my husband, for that matter. The three of them were obviously born with the invisible switch that filters their pet hair vision, so they could go days, even weeks without feeling the need to vacuum. The filter is so good that if there’s a huge hair tumbleweed on the couch next to them, they just say, “Hey, MOVE OVER, will you?”

My husband and I used to do all the vacuuming ourselves, until one day, my husband conveniently decided that vacuuming would be part of the girls’ every day chores (convenient, I say, because I think it was that day that I’d asked him to vacuum up the hairballs, because I quit). So now, pretty much every other day, when I get the rolling of the eyes over “Someone needs to vacuum,” (atop the ensuing argument between the two of them as to who has vacuumed the MOST, and who should do it) I have to threaten near death for someone to get the vacuum out of the closet. My response is usually something witty, like “Well, then, I think maybe tonight we’ll have spaghetti, and I’d just LOOK CLOSELY, if I were you!!!”

One of our dogs – a dalmatian lab mix – is the worst perpetrator of the animals. He LOVES to get his hair everywhere! We have wine-colored carpeting in the livingroom; his coat is that of the Dalmatian part of him, meaning mostly WHITE. Here’s the spiteful part… he waits – that’s right, WAITS – until the carpet has been vacuumed, and literally within 10 minutes of the effort, he runs out to the livingroom, rolls on his back, and just HAS to scratch it maniacally on the floor… leaving a pile of white hair in his wake.That’s just one of the many antics that I just KNOW our dogs and cats use to conspire against us, for fun. I could just hear the conversation now from Montana, the Alpha: “River… you stick with the livingroom thing, you just make yourself look so loveably goofy that they can’t yell at you. Jed, you just grunt and groan and roll around in the hallway, and pretend you JUST CAN’T GET THAT ITCH! Athena, well… you just lay there. Your hair just falls off no matter what you do. Even better, I GOT IT! River, clean Athena, and when you do that, pull out some tufts of hair and just spit them on the floor! YES!!! In the meantime, I’ll just lay around and look innocent. I get in enough trouble on the occasions when I get in the garbage…”

I read somewhere that you can send your pet’s shedded hair to get a blanket or coat made from it. If that’s the case, I could definitely make a profit, and open a store! Do you think Disney would have a problem if I branded the line of coats “Cruella de Ville”?

At the end of the day, I guess that’s just a part of having furry friends in your home. I also have a theory (and I’m sticking by it) that all that overexposure to pet hair keeps us from ever developing any kind of allergy to it! I  do have to admit that when I go to someone’s house who doesn’t have a furry friend, it always feels a little… barren. Could it be the tumbleweed decor is more homey? I don’t know… maybe just what I’m used to.

You’ll never miss that homey-ness in our house, that’s for sure! If you want to feel all comfy-cozy, feel free to come for a visit… just don’t wear black!

Things I’d Write to My Younger Self

I’m stealing this idea from my favorite morning radio show, Bob and Sheri, where Sheri Lynch wrote on this subject (see www.bobandsheri.com). I really loved it, and it got me thinking…  hmmm, what would I say if I were to write a letter to my younger self, from say, maybe 22 or so years ago, when I was in the height of teenage confusion, rebellion, and (self-)destruction? Here’s a try:

Dear Me,

It’s me, sending you a letter from 22 years in the future. Pushing 40!!! Yikes! I know you think that’s a faraway place, but it will be here before you know it — take it from me.

Anyway, yes, we make it this far. And quite a bit goes on between now and then! I know, I know, you have a thousand questions, and you’re just DYING to know what happens! I won’t spoil it; you must live it for yourself, because that’s what makes us what we become (which is a good thing). Plus, then it won’t be any “fun”!

However, I will give you a few words of wisdom from our experience:

• Learn how to laugh — really laugh — sooner. It feels really good, and is a remedy for almost anything. It could easily replace that junk you’re doing, and it’s much more permanent (and much less harmful).
• If you must find a guy to be with, find one that makes you laugh, not cry. Get rid of that loser you’re with; you’ll probably have a lot more fun over the next few years if you do (I WILL give you this spoiler: the relationship WILL end, and you really will be much happier when it does. I PROMISE).
• Speaking of relationships, stop ignoring your “gut,” and go WITH it. Be more assertive and go after what you really want; don’t settle for what’s there on a plate for you if it’s not what you want. You deserve it! You do eventually figure that out and are much better for it, but PHEW! what a bumpy (and somewhat wasteful) ride along the way…
• Your parents love you, regardless of what you think. They just have their own issues – lots of them — and there is no way you can have the maturity now to understand what they are. You may not like them, but you can love them, and one day, you may lose them, and then it will be too late. Ditto for the others in your immediate family. Celebrate their quirkiness, and realize that EVERYONE’S family is quirky in one way or another!
• You are a whole lot smarter than you think.
• You are a whole lot stronger than you think.
• You are a whole lot more beautiful than you think.
• Stop wasting your time cutting classes, and get your schoolwork done! It would’ve been a lot easier (and faster) getting through college if we’d had some scholarships to help us out (this also points back to the fact that you’re a lot smarter than you think). And it really wouldn’t have taken a lot more work than you did.
• Do yoga. It helps. Everything.

So, do we end up happy? Definitely! Regardless of what you do to maybe make it a little easier, there is still a very challenging path along the way. However, I wouldn’t change that for the world; though I still wouldn’t say life’s perfect, NOBODY’S life is perfect, and the sooner you realize that, the better! Overall, though, you create the very life that deep down you really, really, want…. but are afraid to acknowledge. It will take a lot of work, but it will be worth it.

Because you’ll get here.

Nature vs. Nurture – for the Zillionth Time!

I remember the big debates in my college Sociology class about the whole “Nature vs. Nurture” thing. Over the years, I debated it with friends, coworkers, neighbors – you name it! You can debate it all you want, but the absolutely best clinical trial you get is when you have your own kids. And now that my husband and I are 12 years into our clinical trial, I feel I have ample experience — not just with my own children, but with those around me with children — to make this statement:

CHILDREN TEND TO ACT THE WAY THEIR PARENTS EXPECT THEM TO, AND THEY TEND TO GRAVITATE TOWARDS WHAT THEY KNOW FROM THEIR OWN LIFE.

Groundbreaking? Earth shattering? Not really. But a vast majority of the population turns a blind eye to that simple statement, totally ignoring their own actions and persuasions as parents, and refusing to take ownership of what they themselves molded. Exasperated parents tend to just shrug their shoulders and write it off to SOMETHING genetic.

OK, so I’m going to insert a disclaimer here. I’m not saying that EVERYTHING is behavioral; I do believe that there are SOME things that are genetically hard-wired into a person. However, I think the number of items is really shockingly small compared to what people tend to attribute to it.

So here’s my beef, and here I’m going to shout it at the world:

1) GIRLS ARE NOT BORN NATURALLY BEING SUBMISSIVE AND LIKING PINK, PASTELS, AND DOLLS;
2) LIKEWISE, BOYS ARE NOT BORN NATURALLY BEING AGGRESSIVE, LIKING BLUE, BRIGHT COLORS, AND TRUCKS.

There. I said it. That felt good.

I could write an entire dissertation on it, I think, with the experiences we’ve had over the past 12 years. But I won’t. However, I just want to show you some data, based on my experience with my 2 girls and their friends (both male and female):

1) I personally don’t like pink all that much (and I DEFINITELY don’t like ruffles and frilly things), and I definitely don’t buy into the girl-pink, boy-blue thing. Therefore, my girls weren’t dressed in pink and ruffles — and :::gasp::: I actually bought a lot of clothes for them in the boys department when they were younger, because that was the only place I could find the fun, rich, bright colors that ALL children deserve to wear (vs. all of the pastels in the girls’ section). I remember when they were babies; since ALL BABIES GENERALLY LOOK ASEXUAL (really, this shouldn’t be all that groundbreaking), and since my husband and I didn’t have the hangup that many parents have that it’s socially taboo to have a baby that DOESN’T look like its gender (per society’s standards), we never put garter belts on our daughters’ heads or insisted on inflicting the useless pain of pierced ears to PROVE that they were girls. They wore a wide range of bright, non-pink colors (except for the few pink pieces that friends and relatives INSISTED they get — because of them being GIRLS), and comfortable pants. We had plenty of people in public make the comment, “What a cute little boy! What’s his name?” and when I’d tell them and they’d realize it was a girl, they would looked shocked, like they’d made a monumental mistake and apologize profusely. My answer to that was usually along the lines of, “She really doesn’t care, and I’m sure she’s not offended in the least!”

2) My husband and I both hate the general idea of Barbie and that the ONLY toys girls should play with are dolls. Really? And that teaches them spacial relations and mechanics and how to compete in this overpopulated, dog-eat-dog world how? Yes, ALL children (that includes BOYS, too) need to nurture - whether it be a stuffed animal, a doll, or a sibling – but the key here is WELL-ROUNDED. One or two dolls, but also blocks, trucks/cars, science projects, sports, and puzzles. For EVERYONE. But that’s what my girls have had, and SURPRISE — though they’ve occasionally wanted a special doll (like American Girl, of which I fully approve, due to the “girls who overcame the obstacles of their society to be who they wanted to be” theme), they both have their personal preferences in playthings. For example, my younger daughter went through a phase when she just LOVED Matchbox cars, collected them, and made up scenarios with them. My older daughter LOVES myteries to solve, which includes stuff along the lines of CSI detective sets, and science kits. Besides that, they have books, games and games abound, outdoor/activity toys, puzzles, and many other activities. And funny — time and time again, when we have friends who have boys come over, they’re always surprised at how well they get along with the girls — because they actually speak the same language! It’s actually funny; even the girls who are expected to be quiet, demure, and to play with their dolls at home become different children when they’re at our house — because THEY CAN BE!

3) We also don’t believe that girls are naturally more submissive and less assertive than boys from birth. Contrary to what many believe, at birth, girls and boys have almost the same levels of testosterone, and there’s absolutely no significant difference until about 4-8 years old (depending on who you ask). So the “bouncing baby boy” theory is actually scientifically bunk. But we’ve seen it time and time again — someone who has both a toddler boy and a girl will reprimand their daughter for getting covered with mud,  making a mess, or being too aggressive; however, when the boy acts the same way, the parents say, “Stop!” then shrug apologetically and say, “Boys!” as if that’s an excuse. Then, not even knowing how they’re molding the behavior, they’ll go on to say how GENERALLY the girl is SO much easier, and how they’ve just “given up trying” to control the boy.

:::sigh:::

By the time pre-adolescence hits, it’s been well instilled, and I think that surge in testosterone coupled with the expectations of the parents exacerbates something that wouldn’t be quite as extreme if it weren’t programmed into the child at an early age.

We’ve severely minimized TV exposure to our girls, and the relatively few to which they’ve been exposed have generally been picked because of their positive reflection of girls. I remember when my younger daughter went through a funk about a year ago. She LOVES comic books — that was all we could get her to read for awhile — and she’d noticed that the superhero movies that came out were all about BOY superhero. So at some point, she decided she wanted to be a boy. So when I asked her why, she told me, “Because all of the superheros are boys!” Shortly after that, we got her a subscription to Wonder Woman, Spidergirl, and one of the X-Men (since it’s a good mix). That appeased her, but she’s right — look at our blockbuster movies: Batman, Superman, Iron Man… the list goes on. Typically, if there’s a woman superhero, she’s just part of the group.

We also prohibited a lot of the “classics” from our household  — Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Snow White — because we wanted to teach our daughters that they should take a problem into their own hands and fix it best they can through their own means, not helplessly wait for some “Prince Charming” to come along and “save” them. They’ve actually been growing up during a good period — there have been some good children’s movies that have come out in the past decade that actually show females in a strong light — so we’ve had a decent variety in place of the other, more old-fashioned ones.

So, what’s the purpose of this rant? I just think that after 12 years, it’s really old. My husband and I have refused to bring up our girls in the “girl stereotype” — my crusade as a parent is to bring them up independent, strong, and of their own means, without needing any man to “take care” of them. As a family, the 4 of us have taken Tae Kwon Do together for the past 4 years, and we’ve all just gotten our 2nd degree black belt. At the ages of (almost) 10 and 12, they are self confident, vivacious, exuberant, strong, and comfortable with themselves. And I know we have the hurdles of adolescence ahead of us, but we hope we’ve gotten a good head start for them to make good decisions, of their own will, without any old gender stereotypes refraining them from being the best they can be.

 

Why Those Folks Who Try Out for American Idol Don’t Get It

Tonight, I came the closest I’ve ever come to killing myself. Unfortunately, at the moment of deepest disdain, I couldn’t get my hands on any ice picks that I could shove into my eye and then further into my brain.

What would cause such angst, you ask? Sometimes, the simplest thing can set the most optimistic person over the edge. It’s just like for those of you who may have read the classic (one of my favorite books), Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (by Doug Adams) — I never could imagine what Adams meant or at what he was driving in his book via the description of the alien race, the Vogons, who could put someone through the most unimaginable torture and drive them to suicide by merely reciting poetry.

Tonight, I understand the metaphor. It was when my husband and I were FORCED to sit through the entire 2.5 hours of my younger daughter’s elementary school “talent” show. I use quotes there, because I definitely question the English definition of the word after tonight.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if 21 out of the 35 “acts” weren’t vocals — if you want to call them that. Bad karaoke is what I would call them. One time — and only one time — when my husband and I were first dating, my husband, in a drunken state, got up on that bar stage and sang “The Immigrant Song” (yes, by Led Zeppelin) with a bunch of his Navy buddies, thinking I would a) be impressed by his courage/idiocy, or b) take such pity on him and think he was so terrible, that I’d think he was cute. I went with a little bit of both. But see, here’s the point — getting up on that stage, my one-day-to-be-husband KNEW he couldn’t sing. He didn’t even try to hide it. But it was all in good fun, and he didn’t even pretend he thought he could sing. And that drunken night, years ago, he was about par with 95% of those 21 acts that got up there and really thought they were good tonight.

I recall my daughter (the one in the show, and one of the few acts that were NOT singing) telling us about tryouts. Tryouts? Really? You mean, there were some who DIDN’T make it into the show? Afterwards, upon prodding my daughter about that, she told me that the “tryouts” were just to make sure there was a legitimate “act.” I guess I question what the music teacher (the one who put this abomination on) thought was legitimate.

So, in struggling to keep myself from running out of that auditorium (well, actually, it’s what they call the “all-purpose room” these days — forget about a separate auditorium, gymasium, and lunchroom!) screaming and pulling my hair out, I pondered why, oh why, these kids would think they were THAT good. I’m serious; you had some kids in 2 or even 3 acts mixed up with a combination of 1 or 2 other kids, “singing” song after song.

 And then it hit me, like a light bulb.

Part of why I disagree wholeheartedly with our socialistic “no child left behind” thing today in the U.S. is that I think in a big part it causes our children to lack the drive to get ahead in the world. Remember the idea of capitalism? That the idea that the person who works the hardest and has the best outcome deserves to have the most and get the most recognition for it? In case you’ve forgotten, it was one of the ideas on which this country was founded. And it’s one of the reasons that the U.S. became a world leader. And now, we’re faltering on a global scale… isn’t it a bit too coincidental that it’s when we now have a generation of kids who aren’t allowed to show any differentiated points of view, in case of offending SOMEONE? Or, when they play T-Ball, baseball, softball, or whatever, ”no one loses, everyone’s a winner”? Or, better yet, growing up with an elementary school grading system that is structured (at least in our state) to just show a child is “at grade level” (with 85% or more of the rest of the children), instead of how well they actually stack up to other kids? Then, they wonder why the children get so stressed about the “End of Grade Exams” — when they actually have to be GRADED on their work.

I remember in middle school, when we had a talent show, that we DID have to try out, and we DID have to have some iota of talent to be in it. And then, someone actually WON. Which means…. gasp…. that someone LOST. And then, during the rest of my performing arts years — dancing, acting, cheerleading, and the like — trying out for something actually meant you competed to win, which meant that some people DIDN’T MAKE IT. I didn’t even make it sometimes, and I had quite a bit of training. And you know what? If I really wanted to do it, that made me try again. And try harder. Usually, it would make me dig in my heels and cause me to become better at whatever “it” was. Or, I would move on to something else, knowing I tried my best and it wasn’t good enough to compete.

That’s reality. That’s life.

Today, everyone’s afraid of telling someone they’re not good enough, or that they’re just not good at something. There are all of these school-aged sports where “nobody loses.” And there are talent shows where nobody wins, with music teachers telling children whose singing should be limited to the ears of the immediate family — or even just the bathroom walls — that they’re worthy of standing up on stage in front of the whole school and parents and singing into a microphone, with the illusion that they are worthy of doing so.

When I was growing up, we took lessons. Music lessons, dance lessons, and yes, voice lessons, if you wanted to get onto stage. Yes, there was a lot of natural talent in the mix, but raw talent almost never made it without SOME training. Would I have ever tried to break a cinderblock with my bare hands if I’d never taken extensive martial arts training? I think not. Would someone who’s never trained in diving try a triple flip, jackknife, or anything of the sort? Probably not. And my parents would never have let me just join a diving competition without it. And when I tried that jackknife and floundered badly, my parents would at least say something like, “… but you swim really well!”

Today, things are different. All this lack of competition, lack of training, lack of honesty, and lack of WINNING and LOSING is what feeds into the mediocrity we see more and more. And we marvel at the poor souls who, never having LOST at little, local talent competitions (though never having won, either), take a huge jump from their protected, everyone-is-the-same hometown disillusionment to the REAL WORLD and try out for American Idol, only to be crushed and confused when the judges give them the boot.

When watching those painful shows of personal disillusionment, I never understand if and how those people actually think that they’re even close to worthy of trying out for a national TV show like American Idol. It had to all be an act — no one could actually be THAT clueless about themselves, right? And so many.

But now, I understand.

And since I couldn’t find any sharp objects with which I could end my misery while enduring this masquerade of a “talent” show tonight, my wandering mind finally put together that long-pondered mystery of those terrible American Idol tryouts with these evil, group-think practices that promote mediocrity and sameness.

I get it. Simon Cowell, where are you when we need you???

The End of Another Personal Decade… the 30’s

 

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me…

Last weekend, I hit the big…. 3-9. 39. It’s surreal to me. Because I can’t figure out where the 30’s went!!!

You know, many people get hit in the face at “x-0″ ages — 30, 40, etc. However, I seem to follow the pattern of getting hit hard at the “x-9″ ages. 29 was MUCH harder than 30 for me, and I think 39 is hitting me far worse than 40 will at this time next year (though it makes me “throw up in my mouth a little bit” to even type that at this moment!). I think maybe it’s because at the”9″ age, I’m looking back, saying, “HOW did that decade just rush by?” And at the “0″ age, I’m over it, and ready to tackle the NEXT 10 years!

So, I guess I’m a little in mourning. Where did the 30’s go? I don’t have any regrets, that for sure, because in reflection, I know I accomplished a lot, including:

• My children were born at the end of my 20’s, so my husband and I have been through toddlerhood and young childhood with them (and they’re on the verge of puberty now, QUITE another adventure!);
• I continued to quickly climb the corporate ladder and reached the position and paycheck to which I’d aspired; 
• I learned what it was like to lose a parent. That in itself was nothing to consider an accomplishment, but what was an empowering experience was how my sister and I stood together, and successfully fought through a muddy and process-limiting legal system for more than THREE YEARS after our father’s death to get some justice and retribution from the careless doctor who misdiagnosed him and essentially caused his death;
• I realized that once I’d reached the position and paycheck to which I’d aspired that it really didn’t make me happy, so I did some soul-searching, formulated a plan, quit the job, and started my own business — in a completely different field; and
• My husband, children, and I started Tae Kwon Do and worked through it together to earn our black belts together, and we will be testing for our 2nd degree black belt this spring — so yes, you can even do that in your 30’s AND BEYOND!

I’ve learned a lot in the past decade, and feel I am well equipped to tackle the next decade. However, inside my head, I think I’m still someone who thinks that the 40’s are a long ways away, and that I’ll get there… but “some day.” Well, I guess that “some day” is creeping up, and quickly! More and more of my friends are not just in their 40’s, but also in their 50’s, and I continuously marvel at them and think incredulously that there’s NO WAY they could be in their 50’s — remember when we thought the 50’s were OLD? Yet, these friends of mine are so young, so vibrant, and in general just embracing life, that I just have to wonder at my former silliness. I’ve just learned enough to enjoy life this decade, and now I finally feel empowered and equipped to face the world!

So, I guess it’s not so bad after all. I should be proud to be where I am, not just “at my age,” but just where I am, period. Because it’s where I want to be.

Get Out of the Fridge!

 

It’s the time of year that, for some reason, we suddenly remember the things for which we’re thankful. In general (except for Scrooge), many of us are a little softer, a little friendlier, a little more “mushy” (and I’m talking emotionally, not physically!  ).

But then, a lot of us also have panic attacks, lose sleep because of holiday-induced anxieties, whether it be shopping budgets (or lack of), or most often…. FAMILY VISITS.

Now, I have my share of crazy holidays with the family memories. But I’m going to pick over them, like leftovers, one at a time, because as time goes by, they stop putting a knot in my stomach when I think about them, and instead become replaced by the ability to laugh and… maybe to be a little  :::gasp:::  nostalgic. Because it’s all a part of who I am.

My father is the basis of many of those hated it/loved it type of memories. He was such a bizarre, off the wall person, and we never fully figured him out. He was very strong-willed, obstinate man, but sometimes had good intentions. In my early adult years (that would be B.C.), it was all I could do to go visit him after he left his condo in New York and bought a house in West Virginia. Usually, my sister and I would coordinate and go together, so we had some comfort and company (and we could commiserate). Later, after marriage and kids, we STILL often tried to coordinate, and we’d go with our families together, so we could all suffer as a family, I guess! There are many memories there, but right now, today, what stands out in my mind (and Lord knows, I’m actually SMILING about it) is my youngest daughter’s first Thanksgiving…that would be in 1998.

My husband, 2 children, and I met my sister, her husband, and 4 children there, from Wednesday through Saturday of Thanksgiving week. The funny part was, though I know my father loved our children, so many people suddenly around him made him both happy and cranky at the same time (especially my kids, who were a toddler and a baby at the time). But, though he said he wanted to have us there, WE were all responsible for making the dinner. So, we did — we made the huge turkey and all the trimmings, all the while Dad complaining that it was going to be too late (for what, I don’t know), we’d better not burn anything, yadda, yadda, yadda. All the while tending to the children as needed. My sister’s kids were a bit older (15, 13, 10, and 9, if I remember correctly), and played outside for awhile, throwing a ball around. And the dinner was uneventful… a nice, big family dinner, amidst the thousands of penguin statues all over the house (but that’s another story, for another day.. though I will touch on it in here).

But after is when the fun began.

Every time my father would make a turkey, he’d make turkey soup afterwards, from the remainders on the turkey frame. And it was AWESOME. I mean, it would put chicken soup to shame! So that evening, Dad made the soup, and we just smelled that pure heaven all evening, our mouths watering at the prospect of lunch the next day. So, the next day, we cooked up the soup with some egg noodles and actually had some moments of true appreciation of our Dad. Until he came in and yelled at us — actually yelled at us, meaning mainly my sister, our husbands, and me — because we ate HIS TURKEY SOUP. It wasn’t like we had eaten the whole thing, though 9 people WILL make a dent in pot, you know!

This stemmed from his belief that everyone should only have one meal a day. He did this, from almost as long as I could remember. He would just drink coffee in the morning, and SOMETIMES (with company) have some breakfast with that sludge, but early evening, he’d RACK UP on eating to make up for the rest of the day.

And from that side note, he didn’t even THINK of us eating the soup, because he was taking us out to eat for dinner that evening, so WHY would we need anything else? Uh, HELLO, 6 kids present, here? And we were going to starve them all day?? Plus, I don’t know about you, but my sister and I (as well as our betrothed) did usually eat breakfast/lunch, as do most people. But I think my father forgot about that. And all we heard, for the remainder of the time we were there, was how we ate most of his soup.

:::sigh:::   It was good, though, and worth feeling like a little, reprimanded kid! 

And then, the big “dinner out.” This is worth mentioning here, because it was (and still is) quite a joke with my sister and me. Our father was the KING of all-you-can-eat buffets. Figure it out — it sort of fit with his eating habits, and when he did sit down to eat, he could EAT. Now, this was a small town in West Virginia, which was definitely not what you’d call a melting pot, by any means (for anyone in WV, I don’t mean any offense, just stating some fact here). Yet, he would continue to surprise us because he’d manage to find a Chinese food buffet (which, no matter where I’ve been, have usually not been that good). Seriously. In Little Town, WV, there were several. Go figure.

So, he took us to a Chinese food buffet in the only mall for miles for dinner. The food was pretty fair (as expected); however, they obviously used MSG on their food, because about a half hour later, I came down with a screaming migraine.

The plans for the group were to go to a nearby park after dinner to go through a drive-through Christmas light display that the town set up every year. It was the first night. However, with my head feeling like someone took a sledgehammer to me, and the knowledge that I was sure I would throw up at any minute (not conducive to car-bound activities), I asked to be excused to go back to the house, so I didn’t bring everyone down from the Christmas light extravaganza. After a lot of huffing and puffing from my Dad, I was excused and went back to the house to hurl. And because of the all-consuming pain of a migraine like that, today I can’t even remember if my husband came back with me or not. I’ll have to ask him.

After 2 rounds of bathroom hell, to my surprise, everyone came back. The people who’d set up the lights obviously hadn’t checked them in the dark, because they turned on the lights, and voila — there was a light out somewhere, or a short, amongst the thousands and thousands, so they had to close down the attraction. So much for my Dad’s huffing and puffing because I was going to miss it!

Fast forward, the next morning. Dad was taking us out to breakfast, making a big deal about taking us to this breakfast spot (also, please note here — my father was a very, very cheap man! He’d been known to drive 10 or 15 extra miles to a store to save 2 or 3 cents on toilet paper; so for him to openly take us out was a big deal in itself, and he let us know it!). But he was telling us that this was a really nice spot, and he went on and on. And on. And lo and behold, when we arrived, we realized he was taking us to a grocery store that had a little counter in the bakery. A grocery store, I’m not kidding. But my sister and I, used to these antics, just laughed, shrugged, and said, “Whatever.” However, my 15-year-old nephew, who was in those terrible teenage years, was mortified. “We’re going to breakfast in a GROCERY STORE??” To which I replied, “You know what? One day, I promise you, you will look back at this and LAUGH at it. Really. Once you get to adulthood, you realize it’s better to laugh at this… it’s what makes family!” And my sister agreed. He looked at us suspiciously.  ”Oh, come on,” I said, “Isn’t it a LITTLE bit funny that we’re going to breakfast at the grocery store?” He still didn’t see the humor.

A little later, while we were eating our breakfast at the little tables set up in the store, with the beautiful view of locals buying their produce, my sister asked that same nephew, “Hey, why did you end up on the floor upstairs this morning…” (where the guest rooms were in our Dad’s house) “… instead of on the couch, where you were last night?”

His response, after a hesitation: “I couldn’t sleep down there. The penguins freaked me out – they were CREEPY, and they were all staring at me!” Which, of course, made us all laugh (except my Dad, who didn’t hear — he was, at this time, mostly deaf and refused to use his hearing aids on most days, so if we didn’t yell it, he didn’t hear). As I said, the penguins are another story. But to put it simple, the man had an obsession with them, and it was a little freaky… though it made for easy gift giving for holidays!

At the end of the visit, as we were all leaving, I (as always) felt a little relieved, but a little sad. You know, when you leave a family gathering such at that, how you know someone drives you absolutely bonkers when you’re with them, but you’re a little sad when you leave them? That’s how it always was with my Dad. He was such a strange, strange, person, and very, very quirky. But I guess I always wished that we could connect a little more, and regardless of how crazy I know we all made him, I could see a little twinkle of sadness, as well, as we climbed into our cars and took off again.

Dad passed away in 2002. I think it’s during Thanksgiving that I think I miss him most, because I’ll never forget that year — just 3.5 years before he died of cancer — and it was just so classic Dad. And as quirky, annoying, obnoxious, and outright bizarre that he was, I loved him.

Happy Thanksgiving, Dad. And thanks for the memories – you’re with us always.

The Rollercoaster of Parenthood

Anyone who thinks that they can in any way be CLOSE to being the perfect parent…. have a glass of wine, chill out, and FUHGEDDABOUTIT!

As one of the women in the generation that grew up in the ’70s and ’80s (what do they call us? Generation X? The Me Generation? I can’t even remember anymore), we happened into adulthood with many, many pressures, many of which we put on ourselves. First and foremost, we were the first real generation that EXPECTED to have a CAREER outside of the home, for many reasons: We watched some of our female “role models” stay in spoiled marriages because they didn’t have anywhere else to go and couldn’t make a living on their own; we had relatives that lived through the Great Depression, who told us stories of the value of the Almighty Dollar, and that you should always have something in reserve; we grew up just past the liberating ’60s, and women as a whole were realizing that the cultural expectations for women were basically testosterone’s play on “keeping us in place.” As for myself, I grew up on Long Island in a single-parent and mostly female household; it was my mother, my sister, my grandmother and grandfather (poor guy), and my great grandmother (until I was 11). My mother had almost always worked, as had my grandmother (which was an anamoly to her generation). And, since women basically all ran and kept the household going, I grew up knowing nothing else but a female-dominated environment. My father, though VERY old-fashioned and sexist in many ways, felt the sky was the limit for HIS GIRLS (because we were different), which I think was punctuated because we only saw him once a week.

So, out of the gate, I just knew I could DO IT ALL: have a lucrative career, a wonderful equalist husband, and be the PERFECT parent. I wouldn’t have my children see the injustices of the past! I would make sure that they were BROUGHT UP RIGHT! (See my blog “My Parenting and Other Stuff: A Prologue” from 9/25/07.)

Boy, what an idealist I was.

Now you see many, many articles written for this generation — why you DON’T have to be the SuperMom. Many women I knew had failed marriages because they THOUGHT they were getting into a partnership, only to find out that their husband didn’t REALLY think of them as equals, and the rest of the relationship crumbled from there. I mean, “OK, have a career, but you’re still responsible for the kids, the house, and everything on our home schedule.” And that’s continuing to change — you have to remember, it’s largely the household in which the person was brought up, and it takes a few generations to accomplish a real shift in that kind of attitude. We made the shift to career, now the generation right behind us has become much more equal, I think.

I am one of the lucky ones, I think — though I wouldn’t have gotten married if I hadn’t found someone like my husband. He is my partner, 100%. I’ve had a taxing career, and he’s always been at least 50% of taking care of the children. For awhile, I was making twice his yearly salary, and it didn’t bother him (or question his masculinity) one bit. And now, with my own business, I’m taxed even further than I could have possibly imagined (without the salary quite yet), and that’s fine with him, too.  But with all of this going on, unfortunately, sometimes it’s the kids that fall through the cracks, as hard as we try.

Now, we are VERY strict parents by today’s standards, don’t get me wrong — my goal as a parent is to make sure my kids understand they are FULLY ACCOUNTABLE for their actions. We teach them about the junk in food, and make sure they eat veggies, fruit and as much organic or natural and unprocessed food as possible; we don’t let them watch TV except for a couple of hours on Sunday morning and an occasional movie that we have to approve (really, the TVs are completely off when they’re awake, otherwise); they are accountable for their actions at home and at school, and get punished if they don’t produce what’s expected of them (no “my kid would never do that” – full investigation BEFORE any opinion is rendered); better yet, we DO things together! And, being Type A as I am, with high pressures on myself to be SUPERMOM, I want our activities to be PERFECT, and I always WANT TO DO THE PERFECT THING.

No such thing.

Now, I’ve been a Mom for 11+ years now, and I can’t even count how many times I just wanted to crawl into a corner and hide because I think I deserve the Big L (for “LoserMom”) on my forehead, such as

• the time my younger daughter, then aged 2, fell in daycare and hurt herself. It took us about 5 hours and dinner to decide hesitantly to go to the ER to get her arm x-rayed as a precaution (because she was using it fine, it was just a little bruised), to find out she had suffered an impact break across both bones in her forearm (really, she WAS USING THE ARM at dinner!!!);
• the time both kids were sick with a cold (ages 6 and 4 at the time) and I decided to share with them the virtues of herbal steam vapor to help clear their stuffy noses, vs. the OTC junk. As I was putting the Pyrex bowl of steaming, boiling hot water onto the table, the seam in the bottom of the bowl just gave out and broke off, resulting in the water gushing off the table and down the side of my (again) younger child, giving her some pretty intense 2nd degree burns on the outside of her left forearm and her left thigh. It STILL turns my stomach to think about that — that was my All-Time Worst Moment As A Mother (and luckily, we were able to get in to her pediatrician, who’s known us and our parenting practices since our oldest was about a year old, so there weren’t any raised eyebrows as to that cause);
• the time we sent our oldest child (then 5) to school with a couple of marks on her arm because they COULD have been just mosquito bites, regardless of the fact that a classmate had been out the previous week with chicken pox (I was on my way off to a business trip and my husband had meetings that day at work that ee couldn’t cancel) – and yes, it turned out to be a mild case of the chicken pox, even though she’d gotten the shot;
• the time I depended on my older child (who was at the time 8 or so) to tell me the correct time while my husband and I were out in the yard doing yardwork and her sister was at a birthday party. Needless to say, that was a failure, because I called up to her and asked what time it was, she read the (analog) clock wrong, and I ended up picking up my other daughter AN HOUR after the party was over (though I’ve always found it a little funny that no one called to find out where we were when we hadn’t shown up);

I could go on and on, but you get the point. Endless times we sent one or the other kid to school with a dose of Advil in them because they had a little fever from a pending ear infection, and one of us was traveling out of town, had “important” meetings that day, or whatever.

The worst are certain dates (or forgetting about them). With so much juggling going on, we WANT to provide our kids with the perfect life, but it’s not always possible when there are 20 things going on at any given time.

Play dates/get togethers? They are rare – because I figure, hey, my kids are in school and/or in daycare a majority of the week, we want them TO OURSELVES when we’re home!!! Additionally, now that I am a small business owner scraping by, no more cleaning people, which means much more mess, and we’d have to find the time to actually CLEAN the house to have people over!

On the other front, quite honestly, there are few parents we’ve met with whom we’d entrust our children, so there are few houses we’re comfortable sending them, even if for a few hours. Heck, our oldest daughter’s (now 11) best friend is a fine child, but the 2 times she’s been to our house, the parent/stepparent dropping her off has never left the car, come in to meet us, etc. And boy, have we heard stories from our daughter (reiterated from what her friend’s told her) about that friend’s home life. So we don’t let her go over there, because we’re SCARED.

Then there’s a good friend of our younger daughter, who is a sweet child, but we know her father was IN JAIL for an extended period of time, God knows for what, and there are a string of men around with her Mom (and we live in a middle- to upper-middle class area!). The one time we let her go over there, it was for a birthday party, and she came home (without any comment from the mother) with a HUGE splinter that took several days to get out or her hand. Now, we know accidents happen, but I spoke with the mother when I picked her up, my daughter had a Band-Aid on her hand, but the mother never mentioned anything about the splinter or that it hadn’t been taken out or anything. STRIKE THAT HOUSE.

So, we try to keep them entertained and do stuff that’s fun to keep them interested in staying here, with the family, and have their friends take part with us, too, if they so choose. This past weekend, we let the two girls each invite one friend to come with us to a Halloween Trail night at a nature park that is (sort of) in the area. So, they made sure to have their costumes ready, they dressed up, we drove them 45 minutes up to the park, and by the time we got up there — 45 minutes after opening — they wouldn’t let us in because they said they’d sold out for the night. SOLD OUT???!!!! AT A PARK???!!!  Needless to say, my 9-year-old was in tears, and I felt like we were a BIG LETDOWN to our children and their friends. But, my husband and I went with the flow, and we ended up going to a fun park nearby — miniature golf, go carts, and (best yet) an arcade. In costume and all. Though we had to forego the Halloween Horror House they had going for the holiday time (2 of the kids were a bit skeptical and nervous about it), we ended up spending our time in the arcade, and then got ice cream on the way home. And they all ended up having a really good time.

:::phew::: CRISIS AVERTED. This time. One less thing to add to my list of “LoserMom” moments.

And, upon some introspection, I realized that I think I’ve gotten better at this parental rollercoaster. I think, after 11 years, I’ve finally learned that it’s better to just GO WITH THE FLOW instead of fighting and killing myself over every mistake, inconvenience, or problem. Just laugh, shake it off, and move on.

Like I tell my kids all the time.

The Sacrilege (?) of Halloween

 

I guess my husband and I are just heathens, because we LOVE to celebrate Halloween with our kids!

I never, NEVER in my life even thought about it… until we moved down to good ol’ NC, where more than half of the area’s population is originally from the North, and… well, there are also many who would fall in the southern Bible-thumping, Bible belt type who very often pick and choose their interpretation of the Bible and their religion.

 And really, I’m OK with that. To each his own, I say…. everyone needs something a little different for his/her faith, because we’re all different. But one thing that completely bums me out every year is the way Halloween, one of the most fun days of the year for kids, is generally swept under the rug, and minimized in every way possible, for the (seemingly) few.

When I was a kid, we were not only allowed to wear our Halloween costumes to school (providing they weren’t bloody), but we actually had a HALLOWEEN COSTUME PARADE at school that all the parents were invited to in the afternoon, followed by a Halloween party to fill us up with sweets before going trick-or-treating. Hoo-hah! There were parties galore, and pretty much EVERYONE I knew, regardless of their religion, took part to one degree or another.

So imagine my surprise when, as my children entered day care, they weren’t allowed to wear costumes on Halloween, nor did they have any type of party (though they’d have a “fall harvest” celebration or some sort, and would be invited to dress up like their favorite character). This permeated through to school age time, too. Costumes in school? No way! And my husband and I have had to learn to ASK people if they celebrate Halloween, and be prepared for a quick shake of the head and a look away when we ask it.

 This is SO sad to us. We LOVE Halloween! We LOVE spookiness! We LOVE playing with our kids! And our kids really LOVE to dress up! But year after year, we struggle with spending the money needed to get them a costume (or put one together for them, though we really don’t have the time) for them to wear the costumes for a total of… what… 2-3 hours?

Pooh to that.

The History Channel Website has a great and brief explanation of the history of Halloween (http://www.history.com/minisites/halloween/viewPage?pageId=713). If you really look at it, it became a celebration that was a combination of beliefs, INCLUDING Christian. Sound familiar? Like, maybe Christmas, maybe? Or Easter?

Yet, no one ever asks (unless there’s a question of someone not being Christian) whether someone celebrates Christmas, do they?

I haven’t yet come across a Christian-type family who doesn’t exchange presents or doesn’t get a Christmas tree because it’s Pagan. Yet, the day over the years became a combination of celebrations, just like Halloween. Yet, because of the spooky connotation with Halloween (don’t kids LIKE to get spooked every once in awhile???), that seems more sinister, more devil-like, I guess.

And I’m not sure why, in general, us heathens with Northern heritage still have no problems with having some fun on Halloween, and why it seems to be such a problem down south. Our family that is still up north have children who do still get to at least go to school in their costumes on the big day. They think it’s BIZARRE that our children aren’t allowed to do that.  And, after being here for 10 years, my husband and I STILL thinks it’s BIZARRE.

However, there are many, many political issues much higher on the priority scale that we need to address. So, in the meantime, (because every year we say we’re going to have a Halloween party, and never get around to it), we scour the paper and area Websites to find some Halloween events that will allow them to more fully enjoy the celebration… moreso than wearing that $30-60 costume for a full 2 hours to go trick-or-treating.

Now, I must go mix my potions and sacrifice a neighborhood innocent….  LOLLOLLOL

My Parenting and Other Stuff: A Prologue.

Things that make you go “hmmm…”

I think this is where I will start practicing for my book. Because I’m really going to write it. Really. And I really don’t have too much on my plate to begin with (I only need few more hours in the day — easy to find a 25th and 26th hour, right?). But I have to start somewhere, right?

So I’ll start with my kids. Two girls, 11 and 9. Growing up thus far, they’ve seen me as a busy executive, and now an even busier (if that’s possible) small business owner. Which to me, is a good thing.

Before I ever had kids, I decided that I would do my best to “do right” by them, and try to fix some of the things wrong in the world today through them. Here was my (and my husband’s) recipe, before we ever knew what gender we would have to bless our household:

• For boys:
  • Make sure they have a clue. Now, now — don’t get all up in arms! I have had quite the experience with many of the male gender in my life, as friends, best friends, lovers, and colleagues (which further break down as bosses, equals, and subordinates). And, as I’ve always loved the puzzle of pscyhology vs. sociology, feel that through reviewing many research studies as well as mentally logging my personal experience, a majority of what goes on with boys and men is really sociological. I am really tired of the testosterone excuse, and of (still) the double standards in our world today. The “stronger sex”? Oh, please! Let men have babies, and we sure would be able to take care of population control, because no one would have more than one. Anyway, one of the biggest problems boys/men face is the ability to show and share their feelings, and overcome the social mores of being interested in some of the “things” that go on with the opposite sex.
  • Make sure they understand that it takes men AND women, as partners, to make the world go around. Basically, ying and yang, and all that stuff. I am one of the extremely lucky people who found a man to marry that truly believes and practices the partnership scenario in the marriage. To him, it’s BOTH of us who make the household run, and as long as we get the results, there are no purely defined “roles” that either one of us have. He understands that throughout our lives, we will go through periods where one will overcompensate for the other, and vice versa. For example, there were quite a few years when I was traveling everywhere for my job and working very, very long hours. He had a more laid back job, and thus did most of the kids’ doctor appointments, teacher appointments, sick pickups, and anything else that came our way. He cooked dinner many nights during the week, and has always done laundry (but that’s a blog unto itself!). And now, with my own business, it’s not completely different, except that due to the nature of my business, I’m usually working about 5am-2pm in the greenhouses and on delivery, and I can do my office work flexibly in the afternoons and evenings. And now, he’s just gotten a new job that takes more of his time, so I get to do a lot of the day-to-day kid stuff, because I’m usually more flexible to fit it in. Anyway, had we had boys, I would have made it my crusade to teach them that girls really ARE equal to boys, that both show their strength in different ways, and that it’s OK for boys to wear pink and to cry and play with dolls and show and share their emotions, and that’s it also OK for girls to beat them at a soccer game or in a race or school competition.
• For girls:
  • No matter what anyone tells you, girls and boys are (at least) equal, and girls are DEFINITELY NOT subordinate to boys in any way. The biggest difference: Boys, as adults, have more physical, immediate strength. Girls have more endurance (which goes back to our bodies being built to be baby incubators), and our bodies can typically take more stress for a longer period of time. It’s proven; look at the studies.

    We also tend to solve problems differently, and sometimes one way is better than the other, but if you apply both types in the right kind of situations, that’s the best of both worlds.

    Also, blue is a great color, as are rich, dark colors. Trucks, Legos, climbing trees, playing sports, and studying lizards and just as fun (if not even more so) than playing with dolls, which is what everyone thinks little girls need to do.

  • Suck it up, and be tough. Yes, just like boys need to be more sensitive, girls can and should be tough, too. As I’m not a crier myself, I think that too many tears are wasted on things that aren’t supposed to be emotional. Also, don’t ever use your menstrual cycle as an excuse (nor should they allow anyone else use it to write off why they’re upset about something), becuase it’s not. We all have up and down days. Deal with it.

 And so, we proceeded to have 2 girls, who alternate regularly as the light of my days and the bane of my existence. At 11 and 9, they’re precocious, competitive, vivacious, and yet sweet and loving all wrapped into one. I’ve always told them it’s most important to love themselves first, and that beauty is truly what comes from the inside (which has sometimes been really hard, because they are both very beautiful children, and I had to and have to continue to fight their vanity seeping in). They, too, are black belts in Tae Kwon Do (the four of us have done it together from day one), they love sports and outdoorsy stuff, and yet they also love playing with their Webkins and school, or just like to read.

However, don’t worry — I know I have my failures, and I know this is just the calm before the storm. At 11, my older daughter (I’ll call her B) definitely has pubescence right on the horizon, and it’s my crusade to at the very least keep the lines of communication open — as painful as it can be — because I want to be inside her head through those tempestuous waters up ahead. I didn’t have that during those years, and I think that’s what steered me into some pretty deep and scary waters back then. I know she will make mistakes, but I at least hope they will be smaller and not so scary ones (to me, anyway). The good thing — at her age, she’s already showing signs of the Type A, anxious personality I have as an adult. I say that’s good, because sometimes that prevents her from doing something completely and utterly wrong.

At least so far we can communicate about moodiness and general “oddish-ness” (her word), when it hits her. I opened up that door a few months ago, when she was completely unreasonable, mean, and alternatively weepy one morning before school. So I looked her straight in the face and asked, “Alien, get out of my daughter’s body RIGHT NOW and go find someone else to possess!” Though she didn’t react too much at that moment, thereafter when she was feeling that way (usually in the morning before school), she started telling me that the alien had taken over for the time being. Message from her: “I’m unreasonable right now and I know it. I’ll try to come back sometime soon.” So I give her some space, and it’s usually better.

As for my younger child (I’ll call her S), she’s very tall for her age — only .75″ shorter than her older sister (who is at 75% for height) — and we’re CONSTANTLY getting asked if they’re twins. However, she’s still 9, and mentally not at that same place… yet. My issues with her stem from speaking her mind truthfully, and not saying something because she thinks someone else wants her to say it. And she’s lazy, probably because of having  a little bit of a domineering older sister to lead her, ever since she was born. But with them in separate schools this year, that seems to be waning. However, it does feed into more arguing at home, because she is asserting herself more with her sister, which her sister is definitely not used to!

I’m really, really not looking forward to the teenage years. If we can survive that, we can survive anything.

That’s it for today, I think. I have thousands of little thoughts flying through my brain, and I would write and write and write if I let myself. But I wanted to give you my beliefs in this respect, because I know I will go down this road again and again, and that many of my worries, concerns, fears, and drives come from my husband and I plodding through bringing up our daughters together. It flavors everything in our lives.