In the Middle

The day after Christmas, I took the teenagers on a short road trip to visit the Grandma and Grandpa of No, otherwise known as my mom and dad.  I had warned my father in advance that he should stock up on cheese (you can never have too much cheese) and chocolate milk, to be prepared for the usual adolescent sass that comes with having two teenagers around, and that at least one of them sleeps until noon. Seeing the teenagers and my parents in the same place reminds me (not that I really need it) that I am in the middle years of my own life- and boy, sometimes it is hard.

My father and the teenager have exactly the same personality, which makes for some interesting interactions considering that one is young, idealistic, and has it all figured out- and the other is old, cynical, and has it all figured out.  Conversations can get volatile, and sometimes end like this:

Grandpa: Well, you don't understand what you're talking about.
Teenager: Well, neither do you!
Grandpa: You don't listen.  Stop getting all excited and listen.
Teenager: Well, you don't listen either! Just because I'm only a teenager doesn't mean I don't know anything!
Grandpa (to me)- Well, you sure have your hands full.

My mother has Alzheimer's disease.  When my son was diagnosed with autism, I thought then that was the worst thing that could happen to me, and that having a child with autism would be the hardest thing I'd ever have to deal with.  I was wrong.  The hardest thing, right now, is seeing how my mom deteriorates every time I see her.  Autism is no easy walk in the woods, but my son is ever moving forward even though progress is sometimes slow.  With Alzheimer's, every step is backwards.  Conversations go like this:

Mom: Who are you again?
Me: I'm your daughter.
Mom: Oh, that's right. (sounding confused) And who are these other people?
Me: My kids.
Mom: Oh, I didn't know you had kids.

Middle age has its milestones, but they're not always fun ones like getting married, buying your first house, or having your first baby.   Seeing your kids become adults is fun but it's also nerve-wracking (and expensive).  Retirement is on the not-so-distant horizon, but you may or may not have enough money to retire when you want to.  Every time you go to the doctor, they want you to have some not-fun medical procedure like a mammogram or a colonoscopy. Almost everywhere you go, you are reminded that you just aren't that young anymore.  I still think of myself as a young whippersnapper most of the time, but seeing my mother's decline reminds me that I'm in the middle, and that the challenges yet to come will be hard ones.

Drama

Twice a year, I say to myself that it is time to change my ways and become a better person.  One of those times is every August, when preparing for school to start again (yes, I will go through my son's backpack every day!) and the other time is, of course,  New Year's Eve.

Every year I've made promises to myself that I will improve myself in some way. I will floss every night.  I will work out every day and lose 25 pounds.  I will get organized and stay that way. I will relentlessly declutter. I will cook healthy, balanced meals every night. I will do something kind for another person every day. I will no longer procrastinate on tasks I don't like, like going to the dentist or getting the oil changed in my car. I will quit cussing when I'm driving and people cut me off in traffic, or when I step on a stray LEGO.  I will quit forgetting to put books I've read into my Goodreads account. I will stop turning in books late to the library.  I will repaint the kids' rooms. I'm going to clean all the grout around my bathroom tiles using homemade cleaning products I found online.  I will not start a recipe and then find out that I'm out of eggs, or vanilla, or that the batter needs to sit for 24 hours.  I will finish the cross-stitch project I started in 2005 and then abandoned. I will be a better, healther, more organized person.

I don't actually keep many of these promises or meet many of these goals- I did have some success with the flossing resolution, but as for the rest of it, I must confess that I'm not as slim as I was in high school, and my house is still not as organized as I would like it to  be.  I still cuss while driving, and my library late fees alone would make a nice contribution towards a new building.  I'm not always as nice as I should be, and the cross-stitch project remains, sadly, incomplete.

This year, I'm making a new resolution for 2016. I am going to stay away from drama.  Not theater drama, but the drama that occurs on social media, or in real life.   I'm especially resolving to stay away from online drama.  Since 2016 is a big election year, I'm sure that there will be plenty of drama to go around, but I'm going to just scroll on by. I spend way too much time on the computer anyway.  Most of the people whose drama I find myself drawn into aren't even my own Facebook friends, but other people I've never even met.  All that drama is an energy sucker and I don't need it.  As a middle-aged mother of teenagers, I barely have enough energy to get through the day anyway.

2016 is going to be a busy year for the Mom of No; I have a teenager who will be learning how to drive (pray for us- I've seen her drive go-karts).  I'm going to start some home improvement projects.  I plan to spend a lot of time hiking and trying to get more bad iPhone nature shots.  My band mom duties continue, and of course I have this blog.  So no drama for me. Not getting sucked into it.  I'm going to put down the phone or log off the computer and walk away. 

Let's see how long I can last.  Hopefully longer than the resolution to work out every day (that one lasted about 2 weeks), or the resolution to finish incomplete projects (that one never got started).

Merry Christmas, and if I don't post again before January 1, Happy New Year.  May your holidays be full of joy and happiness and great food, and may those of us who are parents to LEGO fanatics get through these two weeks  while the little darlings are on vacation without stepping on any of those little plastic bricks. 

Christmas

The Mom of No has a long commute to and from work, and usually I listen to audio books, but sometimes the book ends and then I start getting myself into trouble by mulling over controversial topics of societal interest and what I think about them.  Mostly my thoughts go no further than the confines of my automobile, and that's probably for the best.

This past week I've been thinking about the "War on Christmas", and I have come to the conclusion that there is a war on Christmas- but it isn't the one that people think it is.  Don't roll your eyes at me yet and get all huffy; I'm going to try to explain my thinking.

In many movie and stage versions of Dickens' Christmas Carol,  The Ghost of Christmas Present is portrayed as a large man with a booming voice, dressed lavishly in flowing velvet robes, and surrounded by a cornucopia of good things.  Under his robes, hidden away, are want and ignorance- but you don't know that until later in the story, when the ghost shows the ragged pair to a shocked Scrooge.   The Ghost of Christmas Present is the epitome of the Christmas season- a time of lavish generosity and abundance.  Look around in December- everything is abundant and generosity is overflowing, from people willingly sacrificing low utility bills to light the exterior of their houses in brilliant displays to successful toy and food drives.  The music at concerts is joyous and full of flourishes. Christmas cookies and fudge abound (the Mom of No likes maple, just sayin').

I suppose that is why I don't get the complaints about a "war on Christmas"- Christmas is everywhere! How could you miss it?  If aliens landed in the United States anytime after Thanksgiving (OK, anytime after Halloween, especially if you are in Hobby Lobby) it would probably take them about 2.5 seconds to start wondering what the decorated trees were all about.  On my way to work, there is a car dealership with a huge Santa Claus in front of it. Every church in town has a manger scene set out.  At my dentist's office, they were playing Christmas carols on the music system.  I got a filling done while listening to "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" when the dentist wasn't drilling or making ominous comments to his assistant, like "oh, that decay is deeper than I thought".  God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay..something about a root canal...Christ our Savior was born on Christmas day...we're going to put some medicine down on that root and see what happens, keep your mouth open wide, please... yes, Christmas is everywhere.

Yet, despite the lavish abundance and goodwill of the season, we still have bitterness and anger  (don't believe me? Spend ten minutes on Facebook) , and the twin specters of ignorance and want hiding amongst the Christmas decor.  Somewhere, probably lots of somewheres, in this country, a child will go to sleep hungry on Christmas Eve and wake up shivering cold on Christmas morning to find that Santa has passed him or her by- and this will not come as a surprise to that child although it will still be a disappointment.  Bitterness, anger, ignorance and want. If you are looking for a war on Christmas that is where it is. It is not the quality or quantity of decoration in public places, or the greetings people choose. 

One final note: before you send me hate mail accusing me of all sorts of dastardly qualities, I am a Christian and a churchgoer. The strength of my faith does not rely on public displays of the season, but I have no problem with people wishing me a "Merry Christmas"- I'll happily say it right back to you and mean it, but I'm also fine with "happy holidays" or "have a nice day".  I love the Christmas classics, especially that masterpiece of holiday entertainment, "Christmas Vacation". Also, I'm still experiencing some post-dental work angst and pain.  Be nice.  And have a Merry Christmas.

Progress

Last night was the teenager's Christmas/Winter/Holiday band concert.  She wasn't going to be performing because she is recovering from pneumonia and she's not yet cleared for clarinet, but she wanted to go see her band BFFs perform.  At the last minute her brother decided he wanted to come, too. I was surprised because he usually just wants to hang out at home and play with his Legos.

When my son was younger, I was used to fleeing public events.  It's an autism parenting tradition. You compare notes with other parents- We had to leave a movie halfway through! We left the baseball game in the first inning! We got told to leave church!  Now, many "autism friendly" events exist, but when my son was a young child they weren't as common.  When I did take him somewhere, and the odd behaviors manifested themselves, I could feel the glares on my neck like a heat lamp. I'd feel the need to apologize profusely, and then run for the hills- although once, at a hockey game, I explained the situation and the fans behind us said hey, we just thought he was really into the hockey fights! (the Mom of No does appreciate a good hockey fight- as do her offspring).

After awhile, I just got tired of explaining and apologizing. As he got older, I learned how to help him adjust to different situations. I had read a book about Anne Boleyn, whose motto for a time was "let them grumble; that's how it's going to be" (this was way before she got her head cut off).  That became my parenting philosophy.  So you think my kid acts a little weird? Oh well, stare all you want. He's taller than me and he walks around with Lego toys and when he's ready to go, talking is closed, and that is who he is.

So last night we went to the band concert, my son with his favorite Lego "fidget" toy, and I went through the whole routine of reminders- you need to sit, be quiet, don't drop the Legos on the floor, there are thirteen songs, we'll leave when it's done.  The first band came out, played their first song, and when it was over, he clapped enthusiastically.

The teenager looked over at him cynically.  She's familiar with his method of operation.

Teenager: Do you really like this music? (sounding doubtful)
Son: Yes! It's awesome!
Teenager: Which band did you like the best?
Son: I like the second band!
Teenager: You're just trying to butter up Mom because it's almost Christmas.
Son: Yes! I'm doing that too!

If I had seen this scene in a crystal ball when he was 5, I would not have believed it. But here he was, sitting quietly (except to ask how many songs were left), enjoying the music, and applauding at the appropriate times for the  performers.  Even though he did ask about twelve times where the concession stand was (no concessions), it was a little Christmas miracle.  I was so proud.

Onion Dip

It's not Pinterest-worthy staging, but it sure tastes great!

The Mom of No is not exactly known for her domestic talents (although my son says I bake great banana bread-but he's always trying to butter me up for toys) but I can at least do this one thing well: onion dip.

Several years ago, I acquired this recipe for "Onion Souffle".  The name of the individual who gave me this recipe is lost in the mists of time, but it's become my go-to whenever I'm invited somewhere and asked to bring a dish.  Usually it disappears within minutes.  I suspect that sometimes it isn't my presence that is desired; it is the onion dip.

It's really simple; it has only four ingredients: onions, mayo, cream cheese and shredded parmesan cheese blended together and then baked. Somehow, magic occurs while baking which turns these four ingredients into a 8X8 pan of spectacular creamy cheesy savory goodness.

If you look up onion dip or onion souffle online, many different versions exist.  This is the one I use:

One large sweet onion, chopped
1 cup mayonnaise (Once I used the reduced fat by mistake and it worked out fine, just FYI)
1 box (8 oz) cream cheese
1 cup shredded Parmesan cheese (under the premise that you can never have too much cheese, I just throw the entire 2 cup package of shredded cheese in- but the original recipe said one cup).

Mix it all together with a mixer. Spread it out in a 8 X 8 baking dish and bake it for 30 minutes at 350 degrees, or until golden brown on top.  Serve it with Fritos.

It's seriously delicious. 

Stress

You know that song, "It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year"?  I sometimes think of it as "It's the Most Stressful Time of The Year". Mothers seem to be the most prone to this.  The kids aren't stressed- Santa is coming and they have no school.  Men don't seem to be stressed about it either.

Two posts from friends this week- one on breastfeeding expectations for new mothers and one on holiday perfection- got my mind churning.  At some point, being a mother stopped being a relationship and started being a job.  Once a year, at my work, we have performance evaluations in which your performance is ranked on a sliding scale starting with  "you totally suck at everything" and ending with "you are the best employee ever", with most people (including the Mom of No) somewhere in between. 

For moms, there is no scale- there is either utter failure or blissful perfection.  You tried breastfeeding but it wasn't working so you ended up using formula? Utter failure. No points for the fact that the baby is still fed and happy.  Your dining room looks like a set for a famous kitchenwares company?  Blissful perfection.  Extra points if you have kids and they don't break any of the dishes or spill cranberry sauce on the heirloom lace tablecloth.  No wonder there are so many memes about mothers needing lots of wine on Facebook. 

As I learned to adapt to my son's autism, my standards started changing as well.  What I considered a success was not necessarily what other people considered a success.  I got a phone call once from his school because he'd been running down the hall with a gen ed student.  My reaction was hey, he made a friend! Success! The school was actually calling me because running was against the rules.  So he was breaking the rules, but he was doing it with someone else! Still a success!  I was able to nurse my daughter (disclosure: I did it because I'm frugal and formula is expensive whereas breast milk is free; pumping while working full time is a complete pain in the butt) but my son needed to supplement.  He still thrived (he grew like a weed).  About the only thing I wish I'd done differently when my kids were little was to pay much less attention to what other people thought I should be doing.

I was once discussing with another friend about how at some point, you're just making work for yourself with no significant return.  If you enjoy making individually spun sugar snowflakes to put on 200 cookies, then you should do it.  But if you don't enjoy it, or you'd really rather be doing something else, your kids or co-workers will probably still eat the cookies even without the snowflakes.  In fact, both my kids and my co-workers will joyfully eat anything that has chocolate on it even if it's a boxed cake mix.  Joyful eating is always a success, whether it's store-bought cupcakes or hand-crafted homemade Pinterest-worthy creations.

I'll tell you a secret.  The Family of No has been beset this December by various illnesses, and nary a cookie has been baked in our house.  The tree is up and decorated, and the presents are wrapped but only because I had to take a day off work to go to the dentist so I had some extra time. I probably won't break out the good china on Christmas (we might have pizza for dinner), and I don't even have a dining room so no worries there.  Not an utter failure, but not blissful perfection either.  So if you're worried about perfection, worry no more.  At least one other mother (me) is right there with you. 

Mom Advice

Now that my kids are both teenagers and the childhood years are behind us, and since I've become aware that a few of my acquaintances (who are much younger than me) are expecting, I feel compelled to offer advice about the whole Mom thing.  I'm not saying it's good advice, and you definitely shouldn't take it if you're not feeling the love, but it's now out there if you want it. 

When my kids were much younger, I got caught up in that whole working vs stay home mother argument, which really needs to just go away.  The Dad of No stayed home while I worked and people thought that was an unusual arrangement but that is how it was and both the kids survived and they actually show signs that they might grow up and become productive citizens.  So my advice is just ignore that whole topic, whether you stay home or go to work.  I honestly wish I'd spent less time debating it with strangers on discussion boards and more time hiking in the woods.

You should always carry a sanitary napkin in your purse.  When the Son of Never Stops Eating was a toddler, he got bitten by a squirrel at the city zoo.  When they found out it was just a local squirrel and not an actual zoo animal, the zoo personnel handed me a first aid kit with six little bandages and some gauze (you'd think a zoo would have a better first aid kit, but I guess that was considered a non-essential item on the annual budget). Since his hand was gushing blood, the bandaids weren't going to cut it.  I wrapped that sanitary napkin on his hand with some gauze, and the blood was absorbed until we got to the ER.  The ER doctor was really impressed with my resourcefulness.

Do not have high standards for car cleanliness.  When your baby is a cute newborn, you'll make a promise to yourself that you will never let your kids eat or drink in your car, and then one day your 7 year old will start complaining that she's thirsty, you'll stop and get her chocolate milk, and since you're in a hurry you let her drink it in the car and she spills it.  Three years later, people will be getting in your car and they'll wrinkle their nose and say, hey, did you spill some milk in here?

If you set a consequence for an action, make sure you're prepared to follow through.  It sucks to tell your kids, hey, if you don't pick up your toys we're not going to the park to meet your friends- and then have them not pick up the toys, because then guess who isn't going to the park?  Pick a consequence that hurts them but not you. 

Don't buy any 0-3 month baby clothes.  People will give you a bunch, and the baby outgrows them three days after birth.

The great wheel of karma frowns on people who do not RSVP for birthday parties.

Buy a house across the street from the elementary school.  Car pickup lines are vicious. 

When they're new and tiny and wrinkly, it seems like you have forever- and then one day, which comes faster than you'd think, you realize that they're taller than you, they are champion eye rollers with sass and attitude, your auto insurance is about to triple, and that you haven't changed a diaper in years.  On the night of my son's 13th birthday, we took him out to eat.  At the table next to us was a family with a 6 week old baby girl.  My son kept looking at her, and finally he asked, was I ever that little?  And I thought,  yeah, you were- and it seems like just two weeks ago, not 13 years ago.

Always have a plan B (and C).  Always carry toilet paper in the car (don't ask). Don't worry about other people staring at you when the kid has a meltdown over M&M's at Target even though you explained to her seven times before getting out of the car that there were going to be no M&M's.  Go to the park a lot. Don't freak out when your toddler eats dog food (both kids lived).  When people ask you what your kid wants for Christmas, tell them, "books". If you don't flip out, they won't flip out. A lot of parenting is just trial and error.  Go forth and have fun.

Turkey Tail Fungus

Turkey tail (Trametes versicolor)

I found this fungus while I was out hiking in the woods with the Son of Never Stops Eating last weekend. It was his birthday, and what he wanted to do on his birthday was take a hike with his mom- what a great kid! The trail was a little wet, so our boots and shoes got a little damp, but it was worth it.

I spent some time yesterday working on an ID, and I finally concluded that this is a "Turkey Tail fungus", Trametes versicolor.  I didn't get a picture of the pore side, because the pores were so tiny I could barely see them even with my reading glasses. The cap side had a velvety texture. It was located on the side of a decaying log.

I think it's a gorgeous fungus especially with the varying autumn colors.

We also found this fascinating fungus, but I can't get a good ID on it yet other than knowing it's a polypore (order polyporales).  I may never get any closer than that, but it's still an interesting fungus- and I got a great white spore print from it, too.

Socks and Underwear

These days, it's common to give names to parenting styles- there's helicopter parenting, free range parenting, something called "dolphin parenting", you get the idea.  My particular parenting style doesn't really have a name, but it can be summed up this way: I live to mess with my kids' minds.

Once, when I thought the teenager  had been in the shower just a little too long, and I was envisioning the next water bill being in the triple digits, I stuck my head inside the bathroom and yelled, "Hey! The lake called! It's running out of water!" The first time, she actually believed me. My father actually gets credit for that one; he had low tolerance for long showers.

For years now, our family has had a running joke with the Son of Never Stops Eating; we tell him that he is going to get socks and underwear and ONLY socks and underwear for Christmas.  If he starts acting up, or giving me attitude, I'll just respond, "Well, nothing for you but socks and underwear under the tree!"  If we walk by a display of socks or undewear at Target, I'll point them out and say "look, there's your Christmas present!".  Conversations often go like this:

Me: You better shape up and clean that room, or it's going to be socks and underwear for you!
Son: No! I don't want socks and underwear! That's boring!
Me: Hmmm, not looking so good for you. Now you're giving me sass.
Son: Tell Santa I want toys, not stupid socks!
Me: Well, you better go do your chores!

Before I get e-mails about being a mean parent, just know that Santa is bringing him a real present, not socks and underwear, although the teenager has told me that I should wrap some up and tell him to open that present first.  Siblings always seem keen on playing jokes on each other; I can always count on each of them to be my willing accomplice when I want to play a joke on the other one.

I've also told my kids that we're going to dinner at the Tofu Palace.  That isn't actually a real restaurant; I made it up.  I like tofu, but my kids don't.  If we are going out to eat and they don't like my choice, I tell them, OK then! We're going to go to the Tofu Palace! Yum! Delicious! It took them a few times to realize that I wasn't referring to a place that actually existed (at least not where we live).

Our local school district likes to notify parents of activities by callouts, and those were a gift from above.  My daughter actually didn't fall for it (cynical teenager) but when I'd get one from my son's school, I'd tell him, hey, I got a phone call from your principal today! I know about what you did! He would spend several minutes trying to convince me that he hadn't done anything. I would just respond by telling him that wasn't what the principal said.  Then I'd start laughing and he'd realize I was playing a joke on him.

However, I've come to the realization that I need to up my game now that they are getting older and less gullible.   My son turned 13 recently, but he's still very attached to his Legos and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle toys.  A few nights before his birthday, as he was going to bed, this conversation took place:

Me: Enjoy all those toys while you still can.
Son: Why?
Me: Because when you become a teenager, you can't have toys anymore. It's a rule.
Son: NO! I like my toys- hey, wait a minute, are you messing with me?

Busted.  So busted.

Littering

The Family of No has an "Adopt a Spot" near our house. If you're not familiar with the program, you "adopt" a roadside median or other small area, and agree to pick up trash from time to time. The spot originally belonged to my daughter's Girl Scout troop, but after the troop went defunct we decided to keep it as a family project because my son loves the Lorax, it's not a huge time commitment, and I think it's important to be good citizens and to contribute to society.  The fact that the spot is very near a donut shop may or may not have had something to do with my offspring being enthusiastic about picking up trash.

When we go out to our Adopt a Spot, my son usually engages in a running commentary about the trash that people leave there- mostly cigarette butts thrown from car windows and water/soft drink bottles. Once we found some cabbages and another time, some underwear. That find was the cause of much mirth; apparently 12 year old boys find the thought of someone tossing underwear out of a car to be hilarious.  For about 15 minutes he was gasping with laughter about someone driving down the road with no underwear on. The teenager just rolled her eyes.

My son, who can be very rule-oriented, (if my head even turns toward my cell phone while in the car, I get a lecture about texting while driving) has particular disdain for cigarette butts- he'll stand near the offending butts, hands on his hips, and proclaim, "Smoking is bad! People should not smoke! And they should NOT put their butts on the ground!" but he isn't a fan of plastic water bottles either.  Beer bottles infuriate him (people should NOT be drinking beer in their cars!) although from a picking up trash point of view, glass bottles weigh the bag down and make it easier to put trash in.  Heavier trash bags also makes it easier for the Mom of No to justify the trash cleanup as her workout for the day.

Invariably, the conversation comes around to this question: Mom, why do people litter? Don't they know this hurts the Earth?  I think that is a good question.  Why do people litter? We live in a place where trash cans are not hard to find.  I don't understand why people feel the need to toss their beer bottles/water bottles/soft drink cups/cabbages/underwear out of their car windows or on the ground.  Why can't you wait until you get to wherever you are going and then throw your trash away?

The Mom of No is admittedly a bit of a treehugger, so from my point of view trash is bad for the environment. It ends up in the lakes and rivers, and it can hurt wildlife.  Even if you don't care about the Earth, though, I can't think of any good reasons to litter.  Often, when I'm out hiking on the trails near my house, I see water or sports drink bottles tossed down on the ground.  I don't get that- if you brought it in, how hard can it be to carry it out?  It even weighs less because now it's empty!

As long as people litter, there will probably be people like me picking it up.  Just be aware that if you're the one tossing underwear out of your car (and I don't want to know who you are, or why your underwear ended up on the ground), you are possibly providing much amusement to certain Adopt-a-Spot volunteers.