Oh, the suffering! Oh, the tragedy! Oh, the angst!
The Son of Never Stops Eating was moping around the house last night, complaining about having to go back to school after his week-long Thanksgiving break. Even though I reminded him that he would get two weeks off soon, for Christmas, and that every summer he gets three months of vacation, he didn't want to hear those words of comfort.
Son: I don't want to go to school.
Me: Really? Would you rather go work in the salt mines?
Son: Yes! Because it's not school!
Me: Lots of kids around the world would love to go to school but they have to work instead.
Son: (rolls eyes) I know that! You always say that!
The Teenager was laying on the sofa, watching "Mockingjay, Part I" and taking her temperature. On Friday she'd come down with a virus and was running a fever, so no school for her. She was actually mad about not being able to go to school; she was moaning about makeup work and missing band practice. Her brother went over to her and gave her a kiss.
Teenager: What are you doing? Eww, get away from me!
Brother: I want to get sick like you. Breathe on me.
Teenager: No, you don't want to get sick! Being sick is awful!
Brother: But you don't have to go to school.
Teenager: MOM! MOOOMMMMMM!!!!! Tell him to leave me ALONE!
I kept reminding him that school isn't all bad. He likes a lot of things about school- his robotics class, his robotics class teacher, his regular teacher, seeing his friends, and walking to school. It's really one or two things about school that he doesn't like, and everything else is fine. However, he hyper-focuses on those few things, and not all the other things that he enjoys about going to school.
Me: What would you do if you didn't have school?
Son: I would build Legos and watch Making Fiends and be with my friends!
Me: But all your friends would be at school.
Son: I would go help them escape! And we would go have fun!
Yes, he has quite the imagination, the little darling. I suppose that I have to admit that quite a few of us- even us grownups- feel that way at least a little about going to school or work after a few days off. I like to sleep in, hang out around the house, and do what I want (although since I'm a grownup, "do what I want" really means "get caught up on the to-do list of boring chores"). Alas, duty calls for us all. Even reluctant middle-school students.
Monday, November 30, 2015
Wednesday, November 25, 2015
Thanksgiving 2015
This morning, the teenager and I woke up early to cut pie. It's been a Thanksgiving tradition for the two of us, for the last four years, to volunteer at our church the day before Thanksgiving as pie cutters and platers. Every year, our church opens its doors on Thanksgiving Day to offer a free Thanksgiving dinner; the only qualification someone needs to walk in the door is that they want to eat a delicious turkey dinner with all the sides and a piece of pie. People volunteer to serve dinner, cook turkeys, bake pies, set up the day before, and clean up afterwards. Jesus is surely looking down on the entire effort and saying, "See, people, that is exactly what I had in mind!". I have been thinking for the rest of the day how this experience compares with one I had last weekend.
Last Saturday, I logged onto Facebook while drinking my coffee and saw a meme that someone had posted (not a friend of mine) that compared the Syrian refugees to rats. The words read "during the Black Plague, no one said only a few of the rats have the fleas let's let the rest come in". The day before I had seen one comparing the refugees to rattlesnakes. People were liking these memes and possibly even reposting them as well.
Several years ago, I took the teenager (who was then in 5th grade) to the Holocaust Museum downtown. She looked at all the exhibits, including one that explained that the Nazi regime killed individuals who were disabled, and asked if that would have included her brother. I said that it likely would have. She nodded, looking troubled, and went on to the next exhibit. Finally she asked me if I though that this could happen here and I said no, I didn't think so. I didn't put a lot of thought into that answer. United States, 21st century- completely different place than Germany, 1930s-1940s. Right? But here we are, seeing people compared to rats.
Compared to most people in most places at most times (disclaimer: the Mom of No is not a history expert, but I did pay attention in class) those of us who live in the United States have an astounding amout of freedom, despite what you read about on the internet. I know that I have much to be thankful for, and if you are reading this you probably do too (You can read, you have access to a computer, you have electricity and no dictator is censoring what you are reading online).
I have friends who have concerns about the refugees coming over. It's okay to have questions, or to wonder how the process works. I had no idea how thoroughly refugees are vetted until last week (it's intense). What is unacceptable is dehumanizing an entire group of people by comparing them to rats, or rattlesnakes, or proposing that they be forced to wear badges.
I still have hope that what I told the teenager that day in the museum was right. The rat meme got likes, but the vast majority of the comments below it were essentially "you have gone too far". I hope that we have learned that making people wear badges or proposing putting them in camps is wrong. I have hope that in this place, at this time of year, when so many of us have so much to be thankful for even though it may not always seem like it, that we can refuse to engage in the hate. After all, this is the season of gratitude, generosity towards our fellow human beings, and celebration of the hope that one day, we will have peace on Earth and goodwill towards all.
Last Saturday, I logged onto Facebook while drinking my coffee and saw a meme that someone had posted (not a friend of mine) that compared the Syrian refugees to rats. The words read "during the Black Plague, no one said only a few of the rats have the fleas let's let the rest come in". The day before I had seen one comparing the refugees to rattlesnakes. People were liking these memes and possibly even reposting them as well.
Several years ago, I took the teenager (who was then in 5th grade) to the Holocaust Museum downtown. She looked at all the exhibits, including one that explained that the Nazi regime killed individuals who were disabled, and asked if that would have included her brother. I said that it likely would have. She nodded, looking troubled, and went on to the next exhibit. Finally she asked me if I though that this could happen here and I said no, I didn't think so. I didn't put a lot of thought into that answer. United States, 21st century- completely different place than Germany, 1930s-1940s. Right? But here we are, seeing people compared to rats.
Compared to most people in most places at most times (disclaimer: the Mom of No is not a history expert, but I did pay attention in class) those of us who live in the United States have an astounding amout of freedom, despite what you read about on the internet. I know that I have much to be thankful for, and if you are reading this you probably do too (You can read, you have access to a computer, you have electricity and no dictator is censoring what you are reading online).
I have friends who have concerns about the refugees coming over. It's okay to have questions, or to wonder how the process works. I had no idea how thoroughly refugees are vetted until last week (it's intense). What is unacceptable is dehumanizing an entire group of people by comparing them to rats, or rattlesnakes, or proposing that they be forced to wear badges.
I still have hope that what I told the teenager that day in the museum was right. The rat meme got likes, but the vast majority of the comments below it were essentially "you have gone too far". I hope that we have learned that making people wear badges or proposing putting them in camps is wrong. I have hope that in this place, at this time of year, when so many of us have so much to be thankful for even though it may not always seem like it, that we can refuse to engage in the hate. After all, this is the season of gratitude, generosity towards our fellow human beings, and celebration of the hope that one day, we will have peace on Earth and goodwill towards all.
Sunday, November 22, 2015
Chores
You know how sometimes people "humblebrag" about their kids, as in "Oh, such a hard day! I had to take little Susie to her Olympic equestrian tryouts, followed by her advanced Chinese lessons, and then we had to dash down to her cello audition because she might be the youngest member ever of the big city orchestra- sometimes I wish we were just a normal family and I wasn't in the car so much! Sigh!" What I am about to say is the exact opposite of humblebragging. It is a honest admission of maternal inadequacy.
My kids are woefully unprepared to go off on their own. I say this because I have been remiss in teaching them the basics. I'm talking about functional life skills here. Skills like cleaning, doing laundry, taking care of your stuff. Shopping- not the fun kind, like for a kayak or for books, but for clothes, or groceries, or appliances. Honestly, I'm kind of a type-A perfectionist and I like things done a specific way, and often it's just easier to do it myself. Also, whenever there's a mess and I ask the kids about it, they blame each other, or start trying to one-up each other on who has more chores.
Me: Who left toothpaste all over the counter in the bathroom?
Kids: He/She did it! (pointing at each other)
Me: Well, someone needs to go clean it up.
Son: Well, I have to feed the dog.
Daughter: Well, I have to unload the dishwasher! And do clarinet practice!
Recently our dishwasher broke, so right now dishes in our household are being washed the old fashioned way, by hand. At first it was like camping! It was fun! Family bonding time happened! But as the days wore on, I noticed that more and more, the dishes were getting left by the sink. One morning, I asked my son about it.
Me: Why are these dirty dishes still on the counter?
Son: I dunno.
Me: What, is everyone waiting for the dish fairy to come do them?
Son: Probably!
This morning I was folding sheets, and I realized I should probably teach this skill to my teenager. (disclaimer: The Mom of No did not learn how to fold a fitted sheet until I was 40. Thank you, YouTube!). So I called her over.
Me: I'm going to show you how to fold a fitted sheet.
Teenager: Why do I need to know that?
Me: So that you can keep your sheets folded neatly in a drawer or closet.
Teenager: What if I don't care if they're neatly folded?
I really need to do a better job of getting these kids to do more for themselves. One will be leaving for college in 2.5 years, and I don't really want her roommate thinking, "wow, doesn't she know how to do anything?' It's hard for me to give someone else a task and then not want to take over when I see that it's not the way I would do it. However, when she moves into her dorm, I won't be there to supervise. She will be on her own.
The teenager does know how to bake, and she's good at it. At least baking is one of those skills you can barter with. If you can provide delicious baked goods, you are welcome almost anywhere. But her college roommate may not want her tossing her clean clothes all over the floor, or leaving toothpase on the countertop in the suite bathroom. Clearly, I have some work ahead of me. Watch out, kids.
My kids are woefully unprepared to go off on their own. I say this because I have been remiss in teaching them the basics. I'm talking about functional life skills here. Skills like cleaning, doing laundry, taking care of your stuff. Shopping- not the fun kind, like for a kayak or for books, but for clothes, or groceries, or appliances. Honestly, I'm kind of a type-A perfectionist and I like things done a specific way, and often it's just easier to do it myself. Also, whenever there's a mess and I ask the kids about it, they blame each other, or start trying to one-up each other on who has more chores.
Me: Who left toothpaste all over the counter in the bathroom?
Kids: He/She did it! (pointing at each other)
Me: Well, someone needs to go clean it up.
Son: Well, I have to feed the dog.
Daughter: Well, I have to unload the dishwasher! And do clarinet practice!
Recently our dishwasher broke, so right now dishes in our household are being washed the old fashioned way, by hand. At first it was like camping! It was fun! Family bonding time happened! But as the days wore on, I noticed that more and more, the dishes were getting left by the sink. One morning, I asked my son about it.
Me: Why are these dirty dishes still on the counter?
Son: I dunno.
Me: What, is everyone waiting for the dish fairy to come do them?
Son: Probably!
This morning I was folding sheets, and I realized I should probably teach this skill to my teenager. (disclaimer: The Mom of No did not learn how to fold a fitted sheet until I was 40. Thank you, YouTube!). So I called her over.
Me: I'm going to show you how to fold a fitted sheet.
Teenager: Why do I need to know that?
Me: So that you can keep your sheets folded neatly in a drawer or closet.
Teenager: What if I don't care if they're neatly folded?
I really need to do a better job of getting these kids to do more for themselves. One will be leaving for college in 2.5 years, and I don't really want her roommate thinking, "wow, doesn't she know how to do anything?' It's hard for me to give someone else a task and then not want to take over when I see that it's not the way I would do it. However, when she moves into her dorm, I won't be there to supervise. She will be on her own.
The teenager does know how to bake, and she's good at it. At least baking is one of those skills you can barter with. If you can provide delicious baked goods, you are welcome almost anywhere. But her college roommate may not want her tossing her clean clothes all over the floor, or leaving toothpase on the countertop in the suite bathroom. Clearly, I have some work ahead of me. Watch out, kids.
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
Band Pies
One of my less favorite parts of parenting is fundraisers. I know they're necessary, but I still don't like them, and I suspect that I am not alone. The suggestions of people to sell to on the fundraiser forms always make me laugh; my parents live in another city, most of my relatives live out of state, my employer frowns on fundraising activities at work, and most of my friends also have kids who are fundraising, so that leaves a very small pool of potential targets- I mean, customers. It ends up sounding like this:
Mom #1: Does anyone want to buy a band pie?
Mom #2: I'll buy a band pie if you buy some popcorn.
Mom #3: I'll buy a band pie if you buy some cookies.
Mom #4: I'll buy a band pie if you buy some wrapping paper.
Mom #5: I'll buy a band pie if you buy a softball raffle ticket.
Mom #6: I'll buy a band pie if you buy a poinsettia.
Mom #7: I'll buy a band pie if you buy a discount card.
Mom #8: I'll buy a band pie if you buy a band pie.
I hate asking people for money, even if it is for a good cause, and we all know who is doing the real work when it comes to sorting and delivering the goods. The sacrifices we make for our kids. At least now we have Facebook, so I can put my band pie purchasing plea out there without actually having to ask anyone. It's an introvert's dream come true.
Today, at 5 PM, the teenager and I will be taking possession of several band pies and attempting to deliver them to their owners before the pies thaw. The pies themselves are tasty; I bought three for my own household, two of which will be eaten ten minutes after I take delivery of them. The third one is supposedly for Thanksgiving dessert, if it lasts that long which it probably won't unless I hide it somewhere in the freezer in a box labeled "Tofu Surprise, 2011", and even then I'm still taking a risk.
Last night I had an intense nightmare which involved a scenario in which I (1) lost the money I had collected to pay for the band pies and (2) found out that I had put the wrong pies on the order form so that the people who wanted apple got key lime, and the person who got the peanut butter pie has a nut allergy. The dream ended with a crowd of angry people carrying pitchforks and torches running me out of town while yelling "we wanted pumpkin rolls, not cream cheese braids! String her up by her thumbs!".
No, I'm not having angst about this, or anything.
I know that the pie fundraiser helps keep the band costs down, so I'm not really complaining about it even though it sounds like I am. The teenager has learned a lot from being in high school band, and the life skills she's gained are definitely worth the work involved in selling and delivering the pies. Besides, I have one thought that keeps me going even through the dark and discouraging times of pie sales frustration:
Next year, the teenager will be sixteen and will have a driver's license. She can deliver her own band pies.
Mom #1: Does anyone want to buy a band pie?
Mom #2: I'll buy a band pie if you buy some popcorn.
Mom #3: I'll buy a band pie if you buy some cookies.
Mom #4: I'll buy a band pie if you buy some wrapping paper.
Mom #5: I'll buy a band pie if you buy a softball raffle ticket.
Mom #6: I'll buy a band pie if you buy a poinsettia.
Mom #7: I'll buy a band pie if you buy a discount card.
Mom #8: I'll buy a band pie if you buy a band pie.
I hate asking people for money, even if it is for a good cause, and we all know who is doing the real work when it comes to sorting and delivering the goods. The sacrifices we make for our kids. At least now we have Facebook, so I can put my band pie purchasing plea out there without actually having to ask anyone. It's an introvert's dream come true.
Today, at 5 PM, the teenager and I will be taking possession of several band pies and attempting to deliver them to their owners before the pies thaw. The pies themselves are tasty; I bought three for my own household, two of which will be eaten ten minutes after I take delivery of them. The third one is supposedly for Thanksgiving dessert, if it lasts that long which it probably won't unless I hide it somewhere in the freezer in a box labeled "Tofu Surprise, 2011", and even then I'm still taking a risk.
Last night I had an intense nightmare which involved a scenario in which I (1) lost the money I had collected to pay for the band pies and (2) found out that I had put the wrong pies on the order form so that the people who wanted apple got key lime, and the person who got the peanut butter pie has a nut allergy. The dream ended with a crowd of angry people carrying pitchforks and torches running me out of town while yelling "we wanted pumpkin rolls, not cream cheese braids! String her up by her thumbs!".
No, I'm not having angst about this, or anything.
I know that the pie fundraiser helps keep the band costs down, so I'm not really complaining about it even though it sounds like I am. The teenager has learned a lot from being in high school band, and the life skills she's gained are definitely worth the work involved in selling and delivering the pies. Besides, I have one thought that keeps me going even through the dark and discouraging times of pie sales frustration:
Next year, the teenager will be sixteen and will have a driver's license. She can deliver her own band pies.
Tuesday, November 17, 2015
Frustration
Since last Friday, I've been following the news on the Paris attacks, and watching the fallout on Facebook. Looking at Facebook is like watching a car accident on the opposite side of the highway- you know you should pay attention to your own driving, but your neck moves on its own to look. It takes me awhile to absorb events like Paris, because I tend to see the world as one big connected ecosystem and because of that, nothing is ever as simple as it looks at the start.
I'm old enough to remember, as an adult, at least three events that made the world- or at least my part of it- come to a standstill: the Oklahoma City bombing in 1995, 9/11, and the Paris attacks. In 1995 and 2001, social media wasn't a thing; people still got their news from TV and newspapers and if you wanted conspiracy theories you listened to talk radio. Now, of course, you can just log on to Facebook and look at your newsfeed. Based on some of the stuff I've seen, that might actually be a step backwards for civilization.
I've read quite a few posts and online articles related to the Paris attacks. I've read much that is inspirational, and I've also seen the events of the last few days turned into the opportunity to take a political stand of one kind or another. The Mom of No is no theological or political guru- those are all outside my area of expertise, and I just don't see myself as an inspirational writer. What I'm left with- besides the feeling of utter pain for the people of Paris- is feelings of inadequacy and frustration.
In 1995, 2001, and now, in 2015, evil people did evil things. As a parent, I feel that I should be able to offer insights into events like this to my offspring- it's easier when they are younger; what they really want to know then is "will I be safe?". With teenagers, it seems that more insight is required, and I feel inadequately prepared for the task. Evil people have done something evil. The world contains good, and the world contains evil. We can and should combat evil by doing good at every opportunity- but from the beginning of time until the end of time there will be evil, and usually it will defy a satisfactory explanation. The best I can offer is what I'm often telling the Son of Never Stops Eating: you cannot control what other people do; you can only control your response to their actions.
It's frustrating to look at Facebook, or other media, and see how quickly discussion disintegrates into paranoia, finger-pointing, name-calling, and political posturing. I don't think anyone really changes their mind about an issue because of a Facebook meme; those really appeal to people who already think that anyway (although some of them are very clever). For people who are convinced that they know how to resolve a significant problem, and that the solution is simple, and that anyone who does not see it exactly the way that they do should be immediately branded as (insert derogatory name-calling here) and dismissed, social media is their playground. Some people are exquisitely skilled at responding to them; I feel quite inadequate to the task and that frustrates me too.
Every issue seems to have become an "all or nothing" line drawn in the digital sand- either you think exactly like me, or you are completely against me. 50 years from now, when I'm in the Retirement Home for Mean Mothers, I wonder what I'll be telling my great-grandchildren about our reactions to these events. I honestly hope it's not "we had chances to get our crap together, and we totally screwed it up for you"- but that may be exactly what I'm telling them.
I'm old enough to remember, as an adult, at least three events that made the world- or at least my part of it- come to a standstill: the Oklahoma City bombing in 1995, 9/11, and the Paris attacks. In 1995 and 2001, social media wasn't a thing; people still got their news from TV and newspapers and if you wanted conspiracy theories you listened to talk radio. Now, of course, you can just log on to Facebook and look at your newsfeed. Based on some of the stuff I've seen, that might actually be a step backwards for civilization.
I've read quite a few posts and online articles related to the Paris attacks. I've read much that is inspirational, and I've also seen the events of the last few days turned into the opportunity to take a political stand of one kind or another. The Mom of No is no theological or political guru- those are all outside my area of expertise, and I just don't see myself as an inspirational writer. What I'm left with- besides the feeling of utter pain for the people of Paris- is feelings of inadequacy and frustration.
In 1995, 2001, and now, in 2015, evil people did evil things. As a parent, I feel that I should be able to offer insights into events like this to my offspring- it's easier when they are younger; what they really want to know then is "will I be safe?". With teenagers, it seems that more insight is required, and I feel inadequately prepared for the task. Evil people have done something evil. The world contains good, and the world contains evil. We can and should combat evil by doing good at every opportunity- but from the beginning of time until the end of time there will be evil, and usually it will defy a satisfactory explanation. The best I can offer is what I'm often telling the Son of Never Stops Eating: you cannot control what other people do; you can only control your response to their actions.
It's frustrating to look at Facebook, or other media, and see how quickly discussion disintegrates into paranoia, finger-pointing, name-calling, and political posturing. I don't think anyone really changes their mind about an issue because of a Facebook meme; those really appeal to people who already think that anyway (although some of them are very clever). For people who are convinced that they know how to resolve a significant problem, and that the solution is simple, and that anyone who does not see it exactly the way that they do should be immediately branded as (insert derogatory name-calling here) and dismissed, social media is their playground. Some people are exquisitely skilled at responding to them; I feel quite inadequate to the task and that frustrates me too.
Every issue seems to have become an "all or nothing" line drawn in the digital sand- either you think exactly like me, or you are completely against me. 50 years from now, when I'm in the Retirement Home for Mean Mothers, I wonder what I'll be telling my great-grandchildren about our reactions to these events. I honestly hope it's not "we had chances to get our crap together, and we totally screwed it up for you"- but that may be exactly what I'm telling them.
Saturday, November 14, 2015
Do Hamsters Get Married?
When the Son of Never Stops Eating was younger, I felt compelled to explain to people we encountered that he was on the autism spectrum and that was the reason for any odd behaviors they might observe. I haven't really felt the need to do that in quite some time; either people know us, or they can think what they want. But sometimes the people around us in public situations probably overhear some very intriguing conversations.
For example, my son is obsessed with hamsters- we are on our fourth hamster. Extreme interest in specific subjects, like LEGOs, or streetlights, is a classic autism trait. Sometimes it drives me nuts, especially if I've been around him all day, and it often leads to conversations that go like this:
Son: Mom, can hamsters get married and have babies?
Me: Hamsters like to be alone, so they probably wouldn't want to get married.
Son: But the babies would be SO CUTE!
Me: We don't need any hamster babies.
Son: But they could be a hamster family!
Believe me, the last thing that I need is a hamster wedding in my household. I know they are adorable, but they escape from their cages and wreak havoc wherever they go. Did you know hamsters can chew drywall? That they can crawl into tiny crevices in your house and reside there for days? One hamster is tolerable, but a family of hamsters? Not happening.
He has no filter, so he says whatever comes to mind at the moment. This also leads to interesting interactions. A year ago, we were part of a group of people visiting a Jewish temple as part of his confirmation class at our church. The rabbi asked if anyone in the congregation had good news they wanted to share, and my son put his hand up. I whispered to him in my best mad mom voice to put his hand down, but it was too late. He announced to the entire congregation that he had "ditched school" that day (he hadn't- that was totally wishful thinking on his part). I think people were laughing, in a good way- but I was too busy trying to decide whether to laugh myself, or die from embarassment.
He is also obsessed with a video series called "Making Fiends". The main character is a girl named Vendetta, who seems to have social skills problems of her own. I'm sure that the people who overheard a recent conversation about Vendetta and her fiends were scratching their heads in confusion.
Son: Mom, I don't like Vendetta.
Me: I know. You've told me several times.
Son: Vendetta makes fiends, and they took over Clamburg.
Me: I know.
Son: Mom, do you like Vendetta?
Me: (screaming silently in my head because we've had this conversation six times already).
If anyone has good tips on drywall repair, let me know. I know what one hamster can do. I can't imagine what damage a hamster family could do. Hopefully I will not find out.
For example, my son is obsessed with hamsters- we are on our fourth hamster. Extreme interest in specific subjects, like LEGOs, or streetlights, is a classic autism trait. Sometimes it drives me nuts, especially if I've been around him all day, and it often leads to conversations that go like this:
Son: Mom, can hamsters get married and have babies?
Me: Hamsters like to be alone, so they probably wouldn't want to get married.
Son: But the babies would be SO CUTE!
Me: We don't need any hamster babies.
Son: But they could be a hamster family!
Believe me, the last thing that I need is a hamster wedding in my household. I know they are adorable, but they escape from their cages and wreak havoc wherever they go. Did you know hamsters can chew drywall? That they can crawl into tiny crevices in your house and reside there for days? One hamster is tolerable, but a family of hamsters? Not happening.
He has no filter, so he says whatever comes to mind at the moment. This also leads to interesting interactions. A year ago, we were part of a group of people visiting a Jewish temple as part of his confirmation class at our church. The rabbi asked if anyone in the congregation had good news they wanted to share, and my son put his hand up. I whispered to him in my best mad mom voice to put his hand down, but it was too late. He announced to the entire congregation that he had "ditched school" that day (he hadn't- that was totally wishful thinking on his part). I think people were laughing, in a good way- but I was too busy trying to decide whether to laugh myself, or die from embarassment.
He is also obsessed with a video series called "Making Fiends". The main character is a girl named Vendetta, who seems to have social skills problems of her own. I'm sure that the people who overheard a recent conversation about Vendetta and her fiends were scratching their heads in confusion.
Son: Mom, I don't like Vendetta.
Me: I know. You've told me several times.
Son: Vendetta makes fiends, and they took over Clamburg.
Me: I know.
Son: Mom, do you like Vendetta?
Me: (screaming silently in my head because we've had this conversation six times already).
If anyone has good tips on drywall repair, let me know. I know what one hamster can do. I can't imagine what damage a hamster family could do. Hopefully I will not find out.
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
The Struggle is Real
The big Facebook news of the week is that Starbucks is at war with Christmas because their cups are red but not imprinted with anything -just red. Who comes up with this stuff? (don't answer- that was a rhetorical question). Right now, at this very minute, I am drinking coffee from a white styrofoam cup. I am a sinner.
Plenty of people have written great stuff on this "War on Christmas", so I'm not going there. The Mom of No has no time for any War on Christmas. I have a different holiday-related problem: The War on Getting Stressed Out About Christmas. Actually, it's not really a war- it's more like an ongoing struggle. It is the Struggle Against Christmas Related Self-Induced Stress.
One of the biggest problems is that Christmas comes at the end of the year, and a lot of things have to be done at the end of the year. All the health insurance deductibles have been met. So every family member gets to go to the eye doctor! the dermatologist! The dentist! And everyone else is doing the same thing, so you're competing against everyone else in America who has met their deductibles at a time of the year that all the doctors are taking off work because it's Christmas. Nothing says holiday cheer like an eye doctor appointment (at least they don't weigh you).
Another point of stress is the famous "last minute offspring need". Say, just as an example- not saying this happened in my household, it's just an example- a certain individual needs a black dress to wear to a school event. You cannot buy a black dress while speed shopping. Well, you can, but you'll probably end up returning it to the store- and the only Christmas shopping activity more stressful than buying something is returning something.
Then of course there's the stuff that we're all familiar with - the decorating, and the baking, and the shopping, because we all know that this is really "Mom" stuff (although in our household the Dad of No puts up the tree; if it were up to me, I would never get around to it). I decided a few years ago to stop sending cards because nearly everyone I send a card to is also my friend on Facebook, but people keep sending me cards so then I feel slightly guilty about the not sending cards thing, because obviously if they have time to do it, then I should have time to do it.
Every year I think that this will be the year we show up at Christmas Eve services with everyone's hair freshly cut (never happens) with new outfits (doesn't happen), and I will have glorious baskets of freshly baked cookies to pass out to everyone I know (doesn't happen) from the Christmas cookie exchange I keep saying I'm going to organize (very likely won't happen this year either). All my shopping will be done before Thanksgiving, online (definitely doesn't happen) to free up December for fun holiday events (sitting in the dermatologist's waiting room).
Every year I say that I'm not going to get stressed out about Christmas. I'm going to be zen and I'm going to work out and maintain my weight, and not eat too much. And every year I get stressed out anyway, and I find myself in the woods doing my primal stressed out holiday scream. I don't need a red coffee cup with Christmas symbols on it. I need a red coffee cup with an adult beverage in it.
Plenty of people have written great stuff on this "War on Christmas", so I'm not going there. The Mom of No has no time for any War on Christmas. I have a different holiday-related problem: The War on Getting Stressed Out About Christmas. Actually, it's not really a war- it's more like an ongoing struggle. It is the Struggle Against Christmas Related Self-Induced Stress.
One of the biggest problems is that Christmas comes at the end of the year, and a lot of things have to be done at the end of the year. All the health insurance deductibles have been met. So every family member gets to go to the eye doctor! the dermatologist! The dentist! And everyone else is doing the same thing, so you're competing against everyone else in America who has met their deductibles at a time of the year that all the doctors are taking off work because it's Christmas. Nothing says holiday cheer like an eye doctor appointment (at least they don't weigh you).
Another point of stress is the famous "last minute offspring need". Say, just as an example- not saying this happened in my household, it's just an example- a certain individual needs a black dress to wear to a school event. You cannot buy a black dress while speed shopping. Well, you can, but you'll probably end up returning it to the store- and the only Christmas shopping activity more stressful than buying something is returning something.
Then of course there's the stuff that we're all familiar with - the decorating, and the baking, and the shopping, because we all know that this is really "Mom" stuff (although in our household the Dad of No puts up the tree; if it were up to me, I would never get around to it). I decided a few years ago to stop sending cards because nearly everyone I send a card to is also my friend on Facebook, but people keep sending me cards so then I feel slightly guilty about the not sending cards thing, because obviously if they have time to do it, then I should have time to do it.
Every year I think that this will be the year we show up at Christmas Eve services with everyone's hair freshly cut (never happens) with new outfits (doesn't happen), and I will have glorious baskets of freshly baked cookies to pass out to everyone I know (doesn't happen) from the Christmas cookie exchange I keep saying I'm going to organize (very likely won't happen this year either). All my shopping will be done before Thanksgiving, online (definitely doesn't happen) to free up December for fun holiday events (sitting in the dermatologist's waiting room).
Every year I say that I'm not going to get stressed out about Christmas. I'm going to be zen and I'm going to work out and maintain my weight, and not eat too much. And every year I get stressed out anyway, and I find myself in the woods doing my primal stressed out holiday scream. I don't need a red coffee cup with Christmas symbols on it. I need a red coffee cup with an adult beverage in it.
Friday, November 6, 2015
Decluttering
This is the time of year where the Mom of No casts her eyes upon her abode and vows to undertake a massive cleanout. Nothing is to be held back. For some reason, the combination of a just-past birthday and the upcoming holiday season sets off an alarm in the Mom of No's brain that screams "DECLUTTER! DECLUTTER!". It is an urge that cannot be resisted.
The problem is that decluttering and organizing is one of those projects that sound really good in theory, but often falls apart in execution. Every so often I go to The Container Store and walk around in a dream trance, imagining just how wonderfully amazing my life would be if I could just teleport the Container Store into my house. Throughout the year I read articles on Facebook that urge me to get rid of anything that doesn't bring me joy, or anything that is plastic, or anything that hasn't seen the light of day in a year. These sites all make it sound so easy, but it's all lies! It's like trying to decorate a cake from a picture on Pinterest- easy for them, not easy for me.
As soon as I start, I run into difficulties. I get the premise of decluttering. If you use it, keep it. If you don't use it, get rid of it. However, I just can't bear to part with items I no longer use but still have attachments to, like two giant Raggedy Ann/Andy dolls that were mine when I was a child, or a truly awful cactus drawing I did in middle school that my father returned to me a few years ago.
Another difficulty I encounter can be summed up in one word: teenagers. Teenagers seem to acquire T-shirts just by existing. When the teenager was younger, she'd head off to Girl Scout camp and I'd suit up in my biohazard gear and venture into her room to bag up hundreds of Happy Meal toys and get them out of the house. T-shirts are like the Happy Meal toys of adolescence.
I don't consider myself a pack rat. I'm not a hoarder. I have no problems getting rid of things that don't fit, or that I don't like, or that are clearly past their useful lifespan. But by this point, I've cleared out all the low-hanging fruit. Books are a real challenge. I live in a small house. I don't have a lot of room for books. Books should be passed around from friend to friend, to enjoy. However, I bond with my books. I can't bear to bid them adieu, even if I know they're headed to a good home.
I also have a hard time getting rid of anything that might potentially have use at some future time, because that mantra of "use it up, make it do, or do without" keeps playing in my head. A giant bottle of Sriracha sauce with unknown purchase date? It might still be good. A bottle of lotion that smells overpoweringly like gardenias? Well, if the zombie apocalypse happens, I might want that to disguise my human odor and slip past the zombie horde (the Mom of No loves The Walking Dead). Sewing patterns for vests that were in style in 1995? You never know! After all, the 80's are "in" again!
What I end up telling myself is that I'm just going to stop buying stuff, and eventually everything we own will just get used up and the house will declutter itself by attrition of belongings. If you're reading this, and you think that's a great idea- I'll just tell you this: that technique doesn't work either.
The problem is that decluttering and organizing is one of those projects that sound really good in theory, but often falls apart in execution. Every so often I go to The Container Store and walk around in a dream trance, imagining just how wonderfully amazing my life would be if I could just teleport the Container Store into my house. Throughout the year I read articles on Facebook that urge me to get rid of anything that doesn't bring me joy, or anything that is plastic, or anything that hasn't seen the light of day in a year. These sites all make it sound so easy, but it's all lies! It's like trying to decorate a cake from a picture on Pinterest- easy for them, not easy for me.
As soon as I start, I run into difficulties. I get the premise of decluttering. If you use it, keep it. If you don't use it, get rid of it. However, I just can't bear to part with items I no longer use but still have attachments to, like two giant Raggedy Ann/Andy dolls that were mine when I was a child, or a truly awful cactus drawing I did in middle school that my father returned to me a few years ago.
Another difficulty I encounter can be summed up in one word: teenagers. Teenagers seem to acquire T-shirts just by existing. When the teenager was younger, she'd head off to Girl Scout camp and I'd suit up in my biohazard gear and venture into her room to bag up hundreds of Happy Meal toys and get them out of the house. T-shirts are like the Happy Meal toys of adolescence.
I don't consider myself a pack rat. I'm not a hoarder. I have no problems getting rid of things that don't fit, or that I don't like, or that are clearly past their useful lifespan. But by this point, I've cleared out all the low-hanging fruit. Books are a real challenge. I live in a small house. I don't have a lot of room for books. Books should be passed around from friend to friend, to enjoy. However, I bond with my books. I can't bear to bid them adieu, even if I know they're headed to a good home.
I also have a hard time getting rid of anything that might potentially have use at some future time, because that mantra of "use it up, make it do, or do without" keeps playing in my head. A giant bottle of Sriracha sauce with unknown purchase date? It might still be good. A bottle of lotion that smells overpoweringly like gardenias? Well, if the zombie apocalypse happens, I might want that to disguise my human odor and slip past the zombie horde (the Mom of No loves The Walking Dead). Sewing patterns for vests that were in style in 1995? You never know! After all, the 80's are "in" again!
What I end up telling myself is that I'm just going to stop buying stuff, and eventually everything we own will just get used up and the house will declutter itself by attrition of belongings. If you're reading this, and you think that's a great idea- I'll just tell you this: that technique doesn't work either.
Monday, November 2, 2015
Middle Aged Mom Problems
Awhile ago, it was brought to my attention that I need to start using reading glasses. I'm not overly excited about this development. It seems that with every passing year every time I go to the doctor, dentist, or optometrist they have some words of gloom to offer. For example, this gem the last time I had a checkup:
Doctor: You're about that age to get a screening colonoscopy.
Mom of No: What did you say?
Doctor: And maybe a hearing test.
I got the reading glasses, and to be honest, they mostly sat around my house. If I was trying to read something with tiny print, I'd put them on, but I didn't use them routinely. Then a few months ago, I realized that I actually could see much better when I was wearing them.
The problem here is that the reading glasses don't fit in my purse. Like my son, I do not like change. I have had the same purse for literally years. I'm actually on my second one; the first one pre-dated the teenager. Last Christmas, a friend of mine who is a wonderful person hunted one just like it down on eBay for me because the first one was falling apart. I don't like change and I hate shopping unless it's for items like birding binocs or books, so the glasses not fitting in the purse is a huge issue for me. Either I have to take something out of my purse to fit the glasses in or I have to get a bigger purse.
The situation is as yet unresolved. It's not just the glasses and the purse- it's things like having people give you confused looks when you talk about the Soviet Union*, or laying in the dentist's chair having your teeth cleaned and hearing Madonna's "Like a Virgin"** over the sound system, or realizing that people who were not yet born the year you graduated from college are now old enough to buy alcohol.
The other night I was in Target and I decided to get some Angry Orchard hard cider. The nice young lady at the checkout rang it up, and then said to me, I need to see your ID.
Really? I said. Could she not see the little wrinkles around my eyes, the bits of gray in my hair, the 13 years postpartum Mom bulge around my waist? Did I really look under 21? Heck yeah, you can see my ID! I'm in my 40's and I still look young enough to have the Target cashier asking me for my ID! Obviously all that staying out of the sun and using sunscreen works! Skin care success!
It's policy, she continued. We have to ask everyone even if we know they're over 21. We have to put their birthdate in the computer or it won't let us ring up the sale. I suppose I looked a little deflated because she smiled at me. You do look young for your age, though, she said.
At least gray hair is currently "in". Maybe people will think I paid big money for those gray highlights, instead of having them come in naturally. I can find solace in that thought, as I agonize over my purse situation.
*Soviet Union=Russia (kind of). When I was a young'un, we were all terrified the Soviets were going to obliterate us with nuclear weapons. Then stuff happened, the Soviet Union fell apart, and now it's Russia, which is what it was before the Soviet Union.
**The Grandma of No was not a fan of songs like "Like a Virgin", and considered that kind of music appalling. Now it's dentist office music.
Doctor: You're about that age to get a screening colonoscopy.
Mom of No: What did you say?
Doctor: And maybe a hearing test.
I got the reading glasses, and to be honest, they mostly sat around my house. If I was trying to read something with tiny print, I'd put them on, but I didn't use them routinely. Then a few months ago, I realized that I actually could see much better when I was wearing them.
The problem here is that the reading glasses don't fit in my purse. Like my son, I do not like change. I have had the same purse for literally years. I'm actually on my second one; the first one pre-dated the teenager. Last Christmas, a friend of mine who is a wonderful person hunted one just like it down on eBay for me because the first one was falling apart. I don't like change and I hate shopping unless it's for items like birding binocs or books, so the glasses not fitting in the purse is a huge issue for me. Either I have to take something out of my purse to fit the glasses in or I have to get a bigger purse.
The situation is as yet unresolved. It's not just the glasses and the purse- it's things like having people give you confused looks when you talk about the Soviet Union*, or laying in the dentist's chair having your teeth cleaned and hearing Madonna's "Like a Virgin"** over the sound system, or realizing that people who were not yet born the year you graduated from college are now old enough to buy alcohol.
The other night I was in Target and I decided to get some Angry Orchard hard cider. The nice young lady at the checkout rang it up, and then said to me, I need to see your ID.
Really? I said. Could she not see the little wrinkles around my eyes, the bits of gray in my hair, the 13 years postpartum Mom bulge around my waist? Did I really look under 21? Heck yeah, you can see my ID! I'm in my 40's and I still look young enough to have the Target cashier asking me for my ID! Obviously all that staying out of the sun and using sunscreen works! Skin care success!
It's policy, she continued. We have to ask everyone even if we know they're over 21. We have to put their birthdate in the computer or it won't let us ring up the sale. I suppose I looked a little deflated because she smiled at me. You do look young for your age, though, she said.
At least gray hair is currently "in". Maybe people will think I paid big money for those gray highlights, instead of having them come in naturally. I can find solace in that thought, as I agonize over my purse situation.
*Soviet Union=Russia (kind of). When I was a young'un, we were all terrified the Soviets were going to obliterate us with nuclear weapons. Then stuff happened, the Soviet Union fell apart, and now it's Russia, which is what it was before the Soviet Union.
**The Grandma of No was not a fan of songs like "Like a Virgin", and considered that kind of music appalling. Now it's dentist office music.
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