It's finally over. The Christmas rush was crazy again this year. All I remember is the stress of getting just the right gift. I worried over the decorations in my house and if they looked just right. I hoped I sent Christmas cards to all the people on my list.
We really have lost the 'reason for the season'. It sounds hokey, but when you get right down to it, the religious aspect is just a tiny part of the whole Christmas experience.
Every year we try to remember to light the Advent Candle every Sunday. It's usually the kids who remember. We say the prayers and I try to remember what it's all about.
This year on Christmas Eve the kids put out the milk and cookies for Santa and carrots for the reindeer. When they were sure all was set, they went to bed. Later on I went back downstairs to check on things. The table was all set for the nocturnal visitors. As I was turning off the lights, I noticed a sheet of paper right next to our teddy bear Nativity Scene. I approached it to see what it was all about. On it, there was a picture of the baby in the manger with stars all around drawn by my 8 year old daughter. Written on the paper were the words 'Happy Birthday Jesus'.
I think she gets it.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
The Tiny Titan
For years my son has loved sports - any kind of sports. He has played football, baseball and lacrosse and is also interested in soccer. We have concentrated on his love of sports for so long we forgot that our daughter might be interested too.
This year she expressed an interest in playing lacrosse. This made me happy since she chose not to joing cheerleading this year, a decision I wholly approve of. Previously she took karate lessons, but when she progressed and she was smallest of the students in her class, I felt too protective and pulled her out. She had been surrounded by students of all ages including adults. She was disappointed, but she quickly adjusted to the change.
We signed her up for lacrosse this spring. I wasn't sure if she would really end up liking it. It was her first team sport and I was afraid she would feel overwhelmed. I should have known better. That girl isn't afraid of anything.
At her first formal game the coach put her in for the face-off. All the parents were thinking the same thing: Why in the world would they put one of the smallest girls into the middle of the action? I wasn't able to be at this first game but my husband told me she won the face-off easily. She was just lucky, I thought. At least she might gain some confidence.
At her second game the coach again put her in for the face-off. I was ready to comfort her when she failed at her task.
No problem.
She won the face-off and ran down the field with the ball. She passed it, but the other player didn't catch it. I was stunned. She didn't think anything of fighting for possession. Unfortunately, the game was called soon after because of a thunderstorm.
Yesterday was her next game. I wasn't able to get there on time so our friends took her. I arrived several minutes into the game. My daughter wasn't on the field and I couldn't see her standing on the sidelines. I got a bit worried but I was sure she was OK and I watched the game.
Our team was doing well. The goalie blocked two of the passes when another thunderstorm started.
I still didn't see my daughter and started to panic. Everyone was walking quickly to the safety of the school building. I was so confused and scared. I looked down to see a small player standing in front of me covered in pads and a huge helmet. It was quite strange since I didn't know why this child was not with her parents. I bent down to see what the problem was. I saw blond curls escaping from underneath her helmet. Two brown eyes stared at me. I looked again and realized it was my daughter underneath that huge goalie uniform. She looked like the Michelin man only in miniature.
After I recovered, I told her how proud of her I was that she blocked the passes.
"How did you get to be the goalie?" I asked her.
"The coach asked who wanted to do it", she answered, "so I told him I would."
Like I said before, that girl isn't afraid of anything.
I walked towards the building, my little girl waddling beside me. When we got to the protection of the school overhang, the coach helped her take off all of the padding. He pulled her helmet off and there was those sparkling brown eyes and golden curls.
"Good job!" he said. The parents around us congratulated her too. "Since you did such a good job, here's a T-shirt just for you!"
Our daughter thanked him nicely and we went on our way. I was speechless but she thought nothing of it.
How could this child belong to a mother who was an introvert and was never really interested in sports? I guess she takes after my husband. He's an extrovert who has never shied away from a challenge. Thank goodness she takes after him.
Although she can be a challenge sometimes, I'm sure that when she grows up she'll have the confidence to succeed in life as well.
This year she expressed an interest in playing lacrosse. This made me happy since she chose not to joing cheerleading this year, a decision I wholly approve of. Previously she took karate lessons, but when she progressed and she was smallest of the students in her class, I felt too protective and pulled her out. She had been surrounded by students of all ages including adults. She was disappointed, but she quickly adjusted to the change.
We signed her up for lacrosse this spring. I wasn't sure if she would really end up liking it. It was her first team sport and I was afraid she would feel overwhelmed. I should have known better. That girl isn't afraid of anything.
At her first formal game the coach put her in for the face-off. All the parents were thinking the same thing: Why in the world would they put one of the smallest girls into the middle of the action? I wasn't able to be at this first game but my husband told me she won the face-off easily. She was just lucky, I thought. At least she might gain some confidence.
At her second game the coach again put her in for the face-off. I was ready to comfort her when she failed at her task.
No problem.
She won the face-off and ran down the field with the ball. She passed it, but the other player didn't catch it. I was stunned. She didn't think anything of fighting for possession. Unfortunately, the game was called soon after because of a thunderstorm.
Yesterday was her next game. I wasn't able to get there on time so our friends took her. I arrived several minutes into the game. My daughter wasn't on the field and I couldn't see her standing on the sidelines. I got a bit worried but I was sure she was OK and I watched the game.
Our team was doing well. The goalie blocked two of the passes when another thunderstorm started.
I still didn't see my daughter and started to panic. Everyone was walking quickly to the safety of the school building. I was so confused and scared. I looked down to see a small player standing in front of me covered in pads and a huge helmet. It was quite strange since I didn't know why this child was not with her parents. I bent down to see what the problem was. I saw blond curls escaping from underneath her helmet. Two brown eyes stared at me. I looked again and realized it was my daughter underneath that huge goalie uniform. She looked like the Michelin man only in miniature.
After I recovered, I told her how proud of her I was that she blocked the passes.
"How did you get to be the goalie?" I asked her.
"The coach asked who wanted to do it", she answered, "so I told him I would."
Like I said before, that girl isn't afraid of anything.
I walked towards the building, my little girl waddling beside me. When we got to the protection of the school overhang, the coach helped her take off all of the padding. He pulled her helmet off and there was those sparkling brown eyes and golden curls.
"Good job!" he said. The parents around us congratulated her too. "Since you did such a good job, here's a T-shirt just for you!"
Our daughter thanked him nicely and we went on our way. I was speechless but she thought nothing of it.
How could this child belong to a mother who was an introvert and was never really interested in sports? I guess she takes after my husband. He's an extrovert who has never shied away from a challenge. Thank goodness she takes after him.
Although she can be a challenge sometimes, I'm sure that when she grows up she'll have the confidence to succeed in life as well.
Friday, May 23, 2008
(Technology) Terror on Wheels
I knew right from the start of our relationship my husband's true love (besides me, hopefully) was his cars. I really do admire his long term committment to that common form of transportation. However, through the years, it has become apparent that our thoughts on the subject are quite different.
When we got married and we bought my first car, he nicely suggested that anything that is put into the car in the morning be taken out the same day. He respected the automobile so much that he wanted it treated carefully. I had no problem with this. After all, I usually only had my purse and maybe a bag for work.
Fast forward six years...
Our son was born in 1997 and things were never the same. In addition to my purse, I needed to bring a diaper bag full of stuff to clean, change, and feed this new person. Often while in motion, I would need to reach back from the driver's seat (I know...not safe) and give the baby his pacifier or blankie, etc. Inevitably some things would fall on the floor and stay there for weeks. Anyway, the rule of 'you bring it in and take it out the same day' didn't last.
But I digress.
As I have said in the past, all this new technology drives me crazy. It has now entered the domain of the motor vehicle. My husband loves all the bells and whistles that are available and after buying vehicles with these features, I now insist on simple old fashioned controls. My truck has six buttons on the radio so I can choose which station I want. The heating and cooling controls are knobs that I can turn to control the air.
Today I left my truck home so my husband could pack it for our trip to the Adirondacks this weekend when he comes home from work. He left his car for me to drive. I've only driven it once or twice before so I'm not quite used to it yet.
First issue I have: Instead of a key, it has a fob that you carry on your person. When you get close enough to the car, you simply press the open key on the fob. Once inside the car, you just turn the ignition, no key required, to start the car. As long as the fob is near you, you don't have to worry about a key. This makes no sense to me. Isn't it just as easy to carry a key with a fob? Once you put the key in the ignition you don't have to worry where your keys are. When I ask my husband the reason for this unnecessary technology, he just says that it's cool. OK. I'll buy that.
Next, I pulled out of the driveway and wanted to turn on my favorite morning radio station. This vehicle has GPS with that annoying screen that you're not supposed to look at while you're driving. This was not a problem since it was in night mode and the screen was dark. As I was driving and listening to an annoying station, I tried to figure out how to change it. With one eye on the road and one eye on the screen I kept pushing buttons hoping to find the magic button that would lead me to my station.
Just when I started screaming , I tried one more button, and my friendly DJ's were talking to me. My heart calmed down. Next, I needed to find out what time it was so I could tell if I'd be late to work or not. I knew, from riding in the passenger seat, the the clock was on the top right of the screen. Unfortunately, the screen was still in night mode and I couldn't quite see the time. Oh well. I figured I'd get to work when I got there. No big deal. Then the car started to get hot inside.
I turned my attention to the three evil buttons below the GPS screen. I knew this thing had climate control, one of the most horrible inventions ever, so I realized my work was cut out for me. Luckily, I just turned the knob from 'auto' to regular and was able to turn down the heat.
After all this I was feeling much better and decided to watch the GPS in action. I knew enough to push the 'Navi' button to get the map. This was useless, however, since the damn thing was still in night mode and I couldn't see anything. When I get really frustrated, I have learned to take a deep breath and realize that it is not a big deal. I didn't need the map. I had been taking this route for ten years now so who cared if I followed the map?
I finally pulled into the driveway at work and parked the car. I started to turn of the ignition when I saw the screen turn to day mode. This car has a vendetta against me, I swear. It was laughing at me since it had the last say in the matter. I got out of this beast of rubber and metal, fob in hand. I locked it and didn't look back. Right now I'm safely in the building and the evil vehicle is outside waiting for me to get done with work. I think I'm ready for the battle later on knowing what I know now. I have the fob on my desk and I'm keeping a close eye on it. You never know when it will attack.
I just know that when I get home, my husband will have a big smile on his face and ask, "How was the car?". I hope he's ready for me to throw daggers at him with my eyes.
When we got married and we bought my first car, he nicely suggested that anything that is put into the car in the morning be taken out the same day. He respected the automobile so much that he wanted it treated carefully. I had no problem with this. After all, I usually only had my purse and maybe a bag for work.
Fast forward six years...
Our son was born in 1997 and things were never the same. In addition to my purse, I needed to bring a diaper bag full of stuff to clean, change, and feed this new person. Often while in motion, I would need to reach back from the driver's seat (I know...not safe) and give the baby his pacifier or blankie, etc. Inevitably some things would fall on the floor and stay there for weeks. Anyway, the rule of 'you bring it in and take it out the same day' didn't last.
But I digress.
As I have said in the past, all this new technology drives me crazy. It has now entered the domain of the motor vehicle. My husband loves all the bells and whistles that are available and after buying vehicles with these features, I now insist on simple old fashioned controls. My truck has six buttons on the radio so I can choose which station I want. The heating and cooling controls are knobs that I can turn to control the air.
Today I left my truck home so my husband could pack it for our trip to the Adirondacks this weekend when he comes home from work. He left his car for me to drive. I've only driven it once or twice before so I'm not quite used to it yet.
First issue I have: Instead of a key, it has a fob that you carry on your person. When you get close enough to the car, you simply press the open key on the fob. Once inside the car, you just turn the ignition, no key required, to start the car. As long as the fob is near you, you don't have to worry about a key. This makes no sense to me. Isn't it just as easy to carry a key with a fob? Once you put the key in the ignition you don't have to worry where your keys are. When I ask my husband the reason for this unnecessary technology, he just says that it's cool. OK. I'll buy that.
Next, I pulled out of the driveway and wanted to turn on my favorite morning radio station. This vehicle has GPS with that annoying screen that you're not supposed to look at while you're driving. This was not a problem since it was in night mode and the screen was dark. As I was driving and listening to an annoying station, I tried to figure out how to change it. With one eye on the road and one eye on the screen I kept pushing buttons hoping to find the magic button that would lead me to my station.
Just when I started screaming , I tried one more button, and my friendly DJ's were talking to me. My heart calmed down. Next, I needed to find out what time it was so I could tell if I'd be late to work or not. I knew, from riding in the passenger seat, the the clock was on the top right of the screen. Unfortunately, the screen was still in night mode and I couldn't quite see the time. Oh well. I figured I'd get to work when I got there. No big deal. Then the car started to get hot inside.
I turned my attention to the three evil buttons below the GPS screen. I knew this thing had climate control, one of the most horrible inventions ever, so I realized my work was cut out for me. Luckily, I just turned the knob from 'auto' to regular and was able to turn down the heat.
After all this I was feeling much better and decided to watch the GPS in action. I knew enough to push the 'Navi' button to get the map. This was useless, however, since the damn thing was still in night mode and I couldn't see anything. When I get really frustrated, I have learned to take a deep breath and realize that it is not a big deal. I didn't need the map. I had been taking this route for ten years now so who cared if I followed the map?
I finally pulled into the driveway at work and parked the car. I started to turn of the ignition when I saw the screen turn to day mode. This car has a vendetta against me, I swear. It was laughing at me since it had the last say in the matter. I got out of this beast of rubber and metal, fob in hand. I locked it and didn't look back. Right now I'm safely in the building and the evil vehicle is outside waiting for me to get done with work. I think I'm ready for the battle later on knowing what I know now. I have the fob on my desk and I'm keeping a close eye on it. You never know when it will attack.
I just know that when I get home, my husband will have a big smile on his face and ask, "How was the car?". I hope he's ready for me to throw daggers at him with my eyes.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
I'm Hungry!
Being a mother is not the easiest job in the world. Not only do we feel responsible for our families, but a lot of us hold down full time jobs. Unfortunately a lot of husbands choose to live in the past. They feel their work is done when they get home. Luckily this doesn't exist in my house. But for those women who have to deal with it, I find it incredible that, even with their jobs, they still clean the house, care for the children and cook meals.
When I was growing up my mother worked as a teacher. Her work day was over at 2:00 but then she would go home and take care of everything else. She constantly had a dust cloth or vacuum in her hand. Dinner was always on time and consisted of a well-balanced variety of foods. She also took care of all of the laundry and grocery shopping along with managing finances. My father would come home from work and sit in his chair with a beer. Mom would be busy making sure dinner was on time so he wouldn't get upset. If he was outside doing something she would keep dinner warm so as not to upset him. After dinner he sat in his chair again, read the paper and watched TV. Mom would be cleaning up the kitchen. My sisters and I would help but not as much as we should have.
This was all I knew. Every night there would be a meal on the table. When she was a child this was what was expected of her. Since my grandmother worked full time my mother would come home from school, clean the house, and have dinner ready before my grandmother got home. To this day she doesn't find anything wrong with having to do everything. You would think this would pass to the next generation.
Not so.
I never saw the logic in that way of thinking. If I was working just as hard as my husband, why should I be responsible for all the family stuff too? My husband is just like me and we share the responsibility. I remember when my grandmother was alive and I was visiting her, she let me know what she thought of that!
"You'd better get home and have dinner ready for him", she'd say.
"He'll be fine", I'd reply. "He knows how to feed himself."
She'd shoot me a look that could kill. "You know, he's not going to put up with that for very long. You'd better make sure everything's done!"
I would laugh at her, but she'd still have that look that would say, 'just you wait and see!!'.
Even though I feel deep down that my house should be clean all of the time and dinner should be prepared every night, the logical side of my brain thinks that's crazy. We do quite well with sharing the chores, but there is one thing that doesn't work out very well.
Neither of us likes to cook.
What a terrible person I am!!! Aren't I responsible for ensuring that my kids get healty meals so they can grow up big and strong? Isn't it child abuse when they only get a bowl of cereal for dinner? As much as I want to give them a decent meal every night, I can't. The idea of cooking makes me sick.
From years back when I'd try to make a decent meal, I would get very angry. This is a strange thing that no one can understand but me. I wasn't angry with my family. I was angry at the idea that humans need nutrition to survive. Who thought of that anyway? Wouldn't it just be easier to take a pill everyday instead of all that cooking nonsense? And why was I expected to supply this 'nutrition' everyday? With my husband helping, I still needed to cook several times a week. As time went on the meals got worse and worse.
Now we have spaghetti with jar sauce at least two to three times a week. Cereal is another staple at the dinner table. Occasionally my husband will go to the freezer and put artificial chicken product patties and processed french fries in the oven. I have to admit he's better than me at this since, when he 'prepares' dinner, he always includes a vegetable.
I'm not really a big fan of food. If I like something I'll eat a lot of it. It's very hard to cook something that I can barely look at, let alone eat. The guilt of my failings overtakes me everyday. I just know that my family will sit me down one day and tell me that their lives were miserable because I didn't fulfill my motherly duties of providing nutrition.
It amazes me when I see my friends get home and start working in the kitchen. There is no anger in their eyes and they almost look like they enjoy cooking. How bizarre!
I'd rather clean the basement than cook a meal.
One day when I was feeling guilty I told my kids I was sorry. My son looked at me, somewhat confused. "What do you feel guilty about?", he asked. I looked at him with concern in my eyes. "I'm sorry I don't have a decent meal for you every night like the other mothers", I told him.
"Mom", he said, looking at me with brows furrowed, "I don't get it. We eat every night. I like what you and Dad make. Why are you so upset?"
I replied, "The other mothers always cook for their families every night. They don't always pour cereal or boil pasta for the zillionth time. I feel bad that I don't take the time to make something better".
He looked at me again with concern in his eyes. "Mom," he answered, "I like everything you do. You spend time with us and make us laugh. You're the best mom I know. Who cares about dinner?"
Again, the wisdom of the children triumphs everytime. Even though I stink in the kitchen, I must be doing something right.
When I was growing up my mother worked as a teacher. Her work day was over at 2:00 but then she would go home and take care of everything else. She constantly had a dust cloth or vacuum in her hand. Dinner was always on time and consisted of a well-balanced variety of foods. She also took care of all of the laundry and grocery shopping along with managing finances. My father would come home from work and sit in his chair with a beer. Mom would be busy making sure dinner was on time so he wouldn't get upset. If he was outside doing something she would keep dinner warm so as not to upset him. After dinner he sat in his chair again, read the paper and watched TV. Mom would be cleaning up the kitchen. My sisters and I would help but not as much as we should have.
This was all I knew. Every night there would be a meal on the table. When she was a child this was what was expected of her. Since my grandmother worked full time my mother would come home from school, clean the house, and have dinner ready before my grandmother got home. To this day she doesn't find anything wrong with having to do everything. You would think this would pass to the next generation.
Not so.
I never saw the logic in that way of thinking. If I was working just as hard as my husband, why should I be responsible for all the family stuff too? My husband is just like me and we share the responsibility. I remember when my grandmother was alive and I was visiting her, she let me know what she thought of that!
"You'd better get home and have dinner ready for him", she'd say.
"He'll be fine", I'd reply. "He knows how to feed himself."
She'd shoot me a look that could kill. "You know, he's not going to put up with that for very long. You'd better make sure everything's done!"
I would laugh at her, but she'd still have that look that would say, 'just you wait and see!!'.
Even though I feel deep down that my house should be clean all of the time and dinner should be prepared every night, the logical side of my brain thinks that's crazy. We do quite well with sharing the chores, but there is one thing that doesn't work out very well.
Neither of us likes to cook.
What a terrible person I am!!! Aren't I responsible for ensuring that my kids get healty meals so they can grow up big and strong? Isn't it child abuse when they only get a bowl of cereal for dinner? As much as I want to give them a decent meal every night, I can't. The idea of cooking makes me sick.
From years back when I'd try to make a decent meal, I would get very angry. This is a strange thing that no one can understand but me. I wasn't angry with my family. I was angry at the idea that humans need nutrition to survive. Who thought of that anyway? Wouldn't it just be easier to take a pill everyday instead of all that cooking nonsense? And why was I expected to supply this 'nutrition' everyday? With my husband helping, I still needed to cook several times a week. As time went on the meals got worse and worse.
Now we have spaghetti with jar sauce at least two to three times a week. Cereal is another staple at the dinner table. Occasionally my husband will go to the freezer and put artificial chicken product patties and processed french fries in the oven. I have to admit he's better than me at this since, when he 'prepares' dinner, he always includes a vegetable.
I'm not really a big fan of food. If I like something I'll eat a lot of it. It's very hard to cook something that I can barely look at, let alone eat. The guilt of my failings overtakes me everyday. I just know that my family will sit me down one day and tell me that their lives were miserable because I didn't fulfill my motherly duties of providing nutrition.
It amazes me when I see my friends get home and start working in the kitchen. There is no anger in their eyes and they almost look like they enjoy cooking. How bizarre!
I'd rather clean the basement than cook a meal.
One day when I was feeling guilty I told my kids I was sorry. My son looked at me, somewhat confused. "What do you feel guilty about?", he asked. I looked at him with concern in my eyes. "I'm sorry I don't have a decent meal for you every night like the other mothers", I told him.
"Mom", he said, looking at me with brows furrowed, "I don't get it. We eat every night. I like what you and Dad make. Why are you so upset?"
I replied, "The other mothers always cook for their families every night. They don't always pour cereal or boil pasta for the zillionth time. I feel bad that I don't take the time to make something better".
He looked at me again with concern in his eyes. "Mom," he answered, "I like everything you do. You spend time with us and make us laugh. You're the best mom I know. Who cares about dinner?"
Again, the wisdom of the children triumphs everytime. Even though I stink in the kitchen, I must be doing something right.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Mine, Mine, MINE!!
Through the years I have observed how animals mark their territory in different ways. My dog(s) have always shown their superiority by marking every tree in sight even though they are 'fixed'. It's fascinating to me because I have to get a life. Actually I have always thought it a strange way to declare their turf.
I experienced this yesterday but not with my dogs.
It's routine in our house that my husband gets home from work and gets the kids off of the bus. They are trained to know that the first order of work, after snacks, is to do their homework. By the time I get home the homework is done. It's a great system since they don't have a chance to procrastinate.
Yesterday, after a dental procedure, I went home for the day and was able to get the kids. My husband stayed late at work since I would be there. The kids walked in and got their snacks. Soon after, with a bit of prodding, they started their homework. I went upstairs to pick up.
"Mom!," my son yelled, "I need you!"
I went downstairs to see him working on his math homework. I like to pride myself on the fact that I aced calculus in college. I explained how to solve the problem, carefully watching him to make sure he understood me. He seemed confident and the next answers were correct.
Not long after I heard, "Mom, I need you!"
He was on another section on his math homework that was puzzling him. I went downstairs again to teach him how to simplify and solve the problem. As I was doing so my husband got home from work.
"How's it going?" he asked as he walked in.
"It's good", we replied and went back to math problems. My husband sauntered over and looked at the work we were doing.
"Are you showing him how to do it", he asked,looking intently at me, "or are you doing it for him?"
I peered up at him from over my glasses and said, "I'm showing him, duh. I'm not a moron."
He quickly shot back, "Well I don't want HIM to be a moron."
What had gotten into my husband that he would think so ill of me? That wasn't like him at all! All of a sudden it occurred to me:
I had peed on his tree!
I had invaded his territory by helping my son with his homework, a task he usually undertakes. Maybe it's an instinctive behavior for all males to be territorial, but I hadn't realized I had tread into such forbidden territory. I guess even the gentlest of giants can still have these instincts.
After realizing this was a result of such primitive behaviors, I didn't take it personally. The pack leader in my house is still the most wonderful man I know.
...But he'd better not talk to me like that again!
I experienced this yesterday but not with my dogs.
It's routine in our house that my husband gets home from work and gets the kids off of the bus. They are trained to know that the first order of work, after snacks, is to do their homework. By the time I get home the homework is done. It's a great system since they don't have a chance to procrastinate.
Yesterday, after a dental procedure, I went home for the day and was able to get the kids. My husband stayed late at work since I would be there. The kids walked in and got their snacks. Soon after, with a bit of prodding, they started their homework. I went upstairs to pick up.
"Mom!," my son yelled, "I need you!"
I went downstairs to see him working on his math homework. I like to pride myself on the fact that I aced calculus in college. I explained how to solve the problem, carefully watching him to make sure he understood me. He seemed confident and the next answers were correct.
Not long after I heard, "Mom, I need you!"
He was on another section on his math homework that was puzzling him. I went downstairs again to teach him how to simplify and solve the problem. As I was doing so my husband got home from work.
"How's it going?" he asked as he walked in.
"It's good", we replied and went back to math problems. My husband sauntered over and looked at the work we were doing.
"Are you showing him how to do it", he asked,looking intently at me, "or are you doing it for him?"
I peered up at him from over my glasses and said, "I'm showing him, duh. I'm not a moron."
He quickly shot back, "Well I don't want HIM to be a moron."
What had gotten into my husband that he would think so ill of me? That wasn't like him at all! All of a sudden it occurred to me:
I had peed on his tree!
I had invaded his territory by helping my son with his homework, a task he usually undertakes. Maybe it's an instinctive behavior for all males to be territorial, but I hadn't realized I had tread into such forbidden territory. I guess even the gentlest of giants can still have these instincts.
After realizing this was a result of such primitive behaviors, I didn't take it personally. The pack leader in my house is still the most wonderful man I know.
...But he'd better not talk to me like that again!
Thursday, February 14, 2008
My Toughest Critic
As I was walking the trails at our nearby nature park, I decided what I wanted to write about. All around me were lots of nordic hats and spandex. Attached to these creatures were sticks on their feet and in their hands. I know I am a little bitter about cross-country skiers, which I wrote about earlier, but they closed off all my trails again today since there's enough snow to ski on. Once again I'm on the pee wee trails. But I digress...
Anyway, I've had an interesting few weeks.
After vacation we got settled back into our routine. It always takes a while to adjust to reality but we did fine. One evening my 7 year old daughter looked at me closely.
"Mom", she said carefully, "No offense, but all the mothers I know who are in their forties look like they're in their forties, but you look like you're in your fifties. No offense mom."
A lot of people would be offended but I considered the source. Here was the girl who wore high-water pants and shirts with holes in them because they were her favorites. I admit my clothes are a bit matronly, and I seldom wear make-up because I frankly can't stand it. My hair was getting too long and puffy and the gray was showing.
"Stay there", she said, "I'm going to go get some make-up to make you look younger".
I quietly sat there expecting the worst. I wasn't disappointed. She came downstairs with all of my old make-up, a brush and a ponytail holder. First she took a handful of hair from the back of my head and made a small ponytail. Next she applied the make-up very carefully. I had blush on my cheeks and blue eyeshadow applied to my eyes. The lipstick she put on me was crooked. She stepped back and looked at me.
"That looks much better!" she exclaimed.
The little fashion diva skipped merrily away. I looked in the mirror and sighed. Not long after I had to go to the store so I washed it off, took out the ponytail and brushed my hair. As I was leaving, she came to kiss me good-bye.
"Why did you take it off?" she asked. Looking for a good excuse I told her, "My face was already dirty and it was bothering me. Sorry".
"That's OK", she said and went back to play.
I started to look at myself and I really didn't like what I saw. I don't usually critique myself since I don't get into all the hair and make-up stuff, but I saw an old looking disheveled woman. Luckily I had a hair appointment the next week.
As I was waiting for my turn I looked in books to see what cut I wanted to try. I finally found one and my hair dresser cut and highlighted it to hide some of the gray. I really loved the results since it made me look years younger. With great confidence I drove home. I couldn't wait to hear what my family thought.
I went in the house and my son was in the kitchen. He looked at me and said, "Wow, Mom, I really like it!"
One down, two to go.
My husband was in the next room. "I like your hair!", he said. Coming from him, this was a great compliment. It worked! I thought.
Finally, Miss Beauty Consultant came in.
"WHAT DID YOU DO, MOM???!!! I DON'T LIKE IT AT ALL! YOU LOOK REALLY OLD. I WANT YOU TO GROW IT BACK!", she said rather crossly.
Trying not to laugh, I asked her, "Don't you think the highlights cover my gray?"
"You don't have gray! I can't BELIEVE you did that! I hate it, no offense".
Needless to say my daughter is very opinionated.
The next day I went to the drugstore to buy some new make-up that would be easy to apply in the morning. I'm not a big fan of lipstick but my lips are nondescript so I bought some. I knew this would add to my new look. Sure enough all the lines in my face disappeared and I looked fresher and more vibrant (..sounds like a commercial). I went proudly downstairs
"Are you wearing lipstick Mom?" she asked.
"As a matter of fact I am", I said smiling.
"Well, it doesn't look any different, no offense", was her observation.
I guess the most important thing is that no matter what I look like my family still loves me. I'll still try to make myself look younger, but I won't take forever applying make-up and doing my hair. I don't have the patience.
Maybe someday my daughter will give up the mismatched socks and the outfits that don't go together at all. Maybe someday she won't look like a waif.
No offense.
Anyway, I've had an interesting few weeks.
After vacation we got settled back into our routine. It always takes a while to adjust to reality but we did fine. One evening my 7 year old daughter looked at me closely.
"Mom", she said carefully, "No offense, but all the mothers I know who are in their forties look like they're in their forties, but you look like you're in your fifties. No offense mom."
A lot of people would be offended but I considered the source. Here was the girl who wore high-water pants and shirts with holes in them because they were her favorites. I admit my clothes are a bit matronly, and I seldom wear make-up because I frankly can't stand it. My hair was getting too long and puffy and the gray was showing.
"Stay there", she said, "I'm going to go get some make-up to make you look younger".
I quietly sat there expecting the worst. I wasn't disappointed. She came downstairs with all of my old make-up, a brush and a ponytail holder. First she took a handful of hair from the back of my head and made a small ponytail. Next she applied the make-up very carefully. I had blush on my cheeks and blue eyeshadow applied to my eyes. The lipstick she put on me was crooked. She stepped back and looked at me.
"That looks much better!" she exclaimed.
The little fashion diva skipped merrily away. I looked in the mirror and sighed. Not long after I had to go to the store so I washed it off, took out the ponytail and brushed my hair. As I was leaving, she came to kiss me good-bye.
"Why did you take it off?" she asked. Looking for a good excuse I told her, "My face was already dirty and it was bothering me. Sorry".
"That's OK", she said and went back to play.
I started to look at myself and I really didn't like what I saw. I don't usually critique myself since I don't get into all the hair and make-up stuff, but I saw an old looking disheveled woman. Luckily I had a hair appointment the next week.
As I was waiting for my turn I looked in books to see what cut I wanted to try. I finally found one and my hair dresser cut and highlighted it to hide some of the gray. I really loved the results since it made me look years younger. With great confidence I drove home. I couldn't wait to hear what my family thought.
I went in the house and my son was in the kitchen. He looked at me and said, "Wow, Mom, I really like it!"
One down, two to go.
My husband was in the next room. "I like your hair!", he said. Coming from him, this was a great compliment. It worked! I thought.
Finally, Miss Beauty Consultant came in.
"WHAT DID YOU DO, MOM???!!! I DON'T LIKE IT AT ALL! YOU LOOK REALLY OLD. I WANT YOU TO GROW IT BACK!", she said rather crossly.
Trying not to laugh, I asked her, "Don't you think the highlights cover my gray?"
"You don't have gray! I can't BELIEVE you did that! I hate it, no offense".
Needless to say my daughter is very opinionated.
The next day I went to the drugstore to buy some new make-up that would be easy to apply in the morning. I'm not a big fan of lipstick but my lips are nondescript so I bought some. I knew this would add to my new look. Sure enough all the lines in my face disappeared and I looked fresher and more vibrant (..sounds like a commercial). I went proudly downstairs
"Are you wearing lipstick Mom?" she asked.
"As a matter of fact I am", I said smiling.
"Well, it doesn't look any different, no offense", was her observation.
I guess the most important thing is that no matter what I look like my family still loves me. I'll still try to make myself look younger, but I won't take forever applying make-up and doing my hair. I don't have the patience.
Maybe someday my daughter will give up the mismatched socks and the outfits that don't go together at all. Maybe someday she won't look like a waif.
No offense.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Vacation!
I'm back. It's been awhile since I've written. My family and I went to Florida last week to visit the famous rodent in Orlando. We always stay on site since there is so much to offer. At our resort we could take a boat to Downtown Disney every day where there are shops and restaurants. We also get free transportation to the theme parks. The pools there are wonderful and the kids spent lots of time in them.
I've always loved Disney but in the last few years, I feel the tug of rampant consumerism eminating throughout the 'Kingdom'. It seems like everything you see is extremely overpriced. I had forgotten my hair conditioner at home. If I don't use it I look like a badly groomed poodle. I went into the store at the resort to find some. A tiny bottle of conditioner (1 oz.) was $1.69. I won't pay that at home for a regular bottle! Unfortunately my hair was crying out for the stuff so I paid for two bottles.
When we checked into the hotel the first day my husband gave each of the kids 50 Disney Dollars (equivalent to $50.00 US). Usually when we go to the 'Kingdom' they would see things they wanted. My husband and I would try to figure out who got what and how much money had been spent. This time was different. The kids had to learn how to budget their own money. When it was gone, it was gone.
Immediately after checking in they wanted to go to the store in the resort that had all kinds of Disney stuff (clothes, animals, housewares, etc.). My 7 year old daughter went right to the stuffed animals, her passion, to see what she wanted to buy. She had picked up one she loved. As I watched, she looked at the price and put it down. "I'm going to wait on this because I might find something I like better later", she stated. Unbelievably we walked out of the store empty handed.
The next night we went to Downtown Disney and walked around. We went into the childrens' clothing department.
"Can you believe these prices?", she said to me. "I can't believe how high they are!"
"Look at this!", my husband exclaimed, pointing to a shirt. "Do you like it?"
My daughter went over and looked at the price tag.
"It's nice, Dad, but look at the price! It's ridiculous! You can buy it for me if you want, but I'm not paying that price out of my own money!"
It's as if a light had gone on.
The next stop was at the LEGO store. It's my son's favorite place in the whole world. They carry every kind of LEGO that was ever invented. I knew this was where he would spend most of his money.
We wandered around a while, but my daughter and I left for a while as the boys looked around. Around 20 minutes later we returned to find my son empty handed.
"Didn't you find anything?" I asked.
"Yeah, but I'm going to wait. I have to figure out what I really might want later in the week to make sure I'm making the right decision", he replied.
I was wondering what had happened to my children. Although we certainly don't buy them everything they want at home because of our rules, it was usually open season at Disney. Not this time, though.
All week I would watch them looking around. They looked at the items and the prices and learned what they could and could not live without. In the end they came home having spent all of their $50.00. Of course, Grandma gave them an extra ten dollars each near the end for which they were incredibly grateful. It was like Christmas all over again.
I have to admit it was so hard to watch them debate over how they were going to spend their precious money but at the same time it was quite rewarding to see them learn about budgeting. Our jobs at parents and teachers was working.
I stopped giving weekly allowances several years ago. As their passbooks would fill up they felt we should go shopping and use it. Now they get no allowance but have more chores. They sometimes complain but they need to know that they are a part of the family and chores should not be monetarily rewarded. We all have to work together to keep things going. I haven't heard complaints for quite a while now. I've also told my mother she is not to pay them for helping her around her house and yard. The reward should be higher self-esteem and self-satisfaction.
It just seems that people today are so used to getting what they want regardless of the consequences. Their houses can't be big enough. Their cars can't be fancy enough. Their children can never be imperfect no matter what the cost. Their debts are out of control because they believe they are entitled to anything they want.
How sad.
I've always loved Disney but in the last few years, I feel the tug of rampant consumerism eminating throughout the 'Kingdom'. It seems like everything you see is extremely overpriced. I had forgotten my hair conditioner at home. If I don't use it I look like a badly groomed poodle. I went into the store at the resort to find some. A tiny bottle of conditioner (1 oz.) was $1.69. I won't pay that at home for a regular bottle! Unfortunately my hair was crying out for the stuff so I paid for two bottles.
When we checked into the hotel the first day my husband gave each of the kids 50 Disney Dollars (equivalent to $50.00 US). Usually when we go to the 'Kingdom' they would see things they wanted. My husband and I would try to figure out who got what and how much money had been spent. This time was different. The kids had to learn how to budget their own money. When it was gone, it was gone.
Immediately after checking in they wanted to go to the store in the resort that had all kinds of Disney stuff (clothes, animals, housewares, etc.). My 7 year old daughter went right to the stuffed animals, her passion, to see what she wanted to buy. She had picked up one she loved. As I watched, she looked at the price and put it down. "I'm going to wait on this because I might find something I like better later", she stated. Unbelievably we walked out of the store empty handed.
The next night we went to Downtown Disney and walked around. We went into the childrens' clothing department.
"Can you believe these prices?", she said to me. "I can't believe how high they are!"
"Look at this!", my husband exclaimed, pointing to a shirt. "Do you like it?"
My daughter went over and looked at the price tag.
"It's nice, Dad, but look at the price! It's ridiculous! You can buy it for me if you want, but I'm not paying that price out of my own money!"
It's as if a light had gone on.
The next stop was at the LEGO store. It's my son's favorite place in the whole world. They carry every kind of LEGO that was ever invented. I knew this was where he would spend most of his money.
We wandered around a while, but my daughter and I left for a while as the boys looked around. Around 20 minutes later we returned to find my son empty handed.
"Didn't you find anything?" I asked.
"Yeah, but I'm going to wait. I have to figure out what I really might want later in the week to make sure I'm making the right decision", he replied.
I was wondering what had happened to my children. Although we certainly don't buy them everything they want at home because of our rules, it was usually open season at Disney. Not this time, though.
All week I would watch them looking around. They looked at the items and the prices and learned what they could and could not live without. In the end they came home having spent all of their $50.00. Of course, Grandma gave them an extra ten dollars each near the end for which they were incredibly grateful. It was like Christmas all over again.
I have to admit it was so hard to watch them debate over how they were going to spend their precious money but at the same time it was quite rewarding to see them learn about budgeting. Our jobs at parents and teachers was working.
I stopped giving weekly allowances several years ago. As their passbooks would fill up they felt we should go shopping and use it. Now they get no allowance but have more chores. They sometimes complain but they need to know that they are a part of the family and chores should not be monetarily rewarded. We all have to work together to keep things going. I haven't heard complaints for quite a while now. I've also told my mother she is not to pay them for helping her around her house and yard. The reward should be higher self-esteem and self-satisfaction.
It just seems that people today are so used to getting what they want regardless of the consequences. Their houses can't be big enough. Their cars can't be fancy enough. Their children can never be imperfect no matter what the cost. Their debts are out of control because they believe they are entitled to anything they want.
How sad.
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