Sunday, February 26, 2017

Get A Job

The Teenager has decided it is time to get a part time job.  Part of this is probably due to her fondness for hanging out at Starbucks with her friends to study; all that hot chocolate and all those snacks cost money, and her allowance isn't going as far as it used to.  I am the Mom of Frugal, and it seems like my entire paycheck goes to buy shoes and groceries, so no raise will be forthcoming from the Bank of Mom and Dad.

The other night she sat down at the kitchen table to start filling out job applications.  When I was a teenager looking for a job, I went to the mall and visited all my favorite stores, asking who was hiring and could I have a job application, please.  Evidently now it's all done online.  Not being particularly extroverted, I would have much preferred the online method myself, but obviously that wasn't available back in the 1980's.

As she worked her way through the job applications, she started asking me the questions they were asking her, hoping for some great mom advice on the perfect answers to job application questions. Unfortunately, the questions they were asking stumped me, too.  Honesty is always a good policy, but when you're filling out a job application, it can make the process somewhat difficult.  Also, it's been a long time since I have filled out a job application.  I have no idea what the current "correct" answers are.

For example, there's that classic question, "Why do you want to work at (insert name of business here)?"  If you're a recent college graduate looking for your first full time job, you might do some research on the organizations you're applying to work for and develop some insightful answer about how you like their approach to solving consumer problems, or you admire their emphasis on research, or that they offer a quality product.  At least, that was the advice I was given back in the olden days.

But if you're a sixteen year old high school junior looking to work at (insert name of chain restaurant here), what is the best way to answer that question?

"I don't know". I finally admitted, after mulling it over for a few minutes.  "Tell them that your grandfather really likes to eat there". I said. That seemed like as good a reason as any.  The real reason she was applying there was because a friend of hers worked there, but that might not be the best thing to put on the application: "I want to work here because my friend works here".

I could tell from her body language that she wasn't overly impressed with my suggestion.  Also, I suspect that her grandfather likes to eat at this particular restaurant because senior citizens get free coffee, not necessarily because of the quality of the food.  He is extremely loyal to his senior citizen discounts.

"What about skills?" she asked. "The application is asking me what skills I have".

Somehow, "My mom says I am the best clarinet player she knows" doesn't seem like the right answer, either.

When she finally gets an interview, I wonder if they'll ask her that other classic, "Tell me your weakness".   I'm always tempted to say, "I have a really weird sense of humor and a lot of people don't get it", but that doesn't seem like something you'd want to hear from a potential employee.  If The Teenager asked me to name her weakness, it would be that, from a parental point of view, her room could be cleaner and more organized. That probably isn't the correct answer, either.

Soon, hopefully she will have the part time job of her dreams, and then we can move on to adult work-related life lesson #201:  Your paycheck is less than you thought it would be, and that is a sad story.

Monday, February 20, 2017

Plastic Bag Hypocrite

From time to time, the Mom of No and family participate in various trash clean ups.  I always come away from these activities with a hatred of plastic bags; after you've spent ten minutes trying to free a plastic shopping bag from a tree while getting stuck with all kinds of thorns, your perspective on convenient shopping accessories changes a little.  I usually get back in the car, covered in mud and poison ivy oils and scratched up from head to toe, and exclaim something to the effect of "I am done with plastic bags! No more plastic bags! Reusable bags only from now on!".

The offspring usually just sit in the back seat and look at me.  They are the Adolescents of We Have Heard This One Before.

Also, here is something you need to know about the Son of Never Stops Eating: he operates with no filter.  Whether this is something related to his autism, or something he inherited from his mother, who also has a filter problem from time to time, I'm not sure- but he says what he thinks.  Sometimes, this is refreshing and enjoyable. Sometimes, not so much.  He is also an ardent environmentalist.

So recently I had participated in a trash clean up and I came home with my usual complaints about plastic bags, plastic fishing line, plastic water bottles, plastic food containers, and plastic everything else, and how all this plastic was destroying the Earth and it would really just be better if plastic was banned and we all used reusable bags and bottles. 

Then the Son of Never Stops Eating and I went to the grocery store.

We selected our items and were proceeding to the checkout line when he spotted a large display of water bottles by the checkout lanes. 

"MOM!" he exclaimed.  "Look at these water bottles! People should not be buying these water bottles! They're plastic!".  A woman who was putting a 24 pack in her cart looked over at us.

"Maybe people are buying them for a special event, or they want to stock up for the zombie apocalypse".  I told him.  The Son of Never Stops Eating and I are both Walking Dead fans. "I'm quite certain that a zombie invasion would bring a halt to water treatment plant operations". 

"I thought you said plastic water bottles were bad!" he said. 

The cashier started checking us out, and I directed the Son of Never Stops Eating to start putting the food in bags while I signed over my paycheck.  He looked at me, stricken. 

"These are plastic bags!" he said.  "I thought you said we were using reusable bags now!"

"They might be in the car".  I told him.  Actually, I have quite a few, but they weren't in my car.  They are in the house somewhere, because the last time I decided it was time to ban plastic from my life I went to the grocery store with my reusable bags, filled them with groceries, took them in the house, and put them somewhere with a mental note to put them back in my car, but they're still sitting where I left them, wherever that is.

"MOM!" he said, exasperated. "I thought you were a friend to nature!"

"I am a friend to nature!" I responded. "I love nature!"

"But you're still using plastic bags!" he pointed out.  "Don't you care about the birds and the trees?"

Clearly I have some more work to do on my reduction of plastic use goals.  I have no doubt whatsoever that my son will be with me every step of the way, pointing out my failures and encouraging me to change my ways.  The Lorax would be proud.

And just for the record- we do use reusable water bottles, but I don't have quite enough yet to stock up water for the zombie apocalypse.  I'll probably have to supplement my stash with those evil plastic water bottles. 

Thursday, February 16, 2017

Don't Stay Off My Trail

I was out hiking the other day out at my favorite nature preserve, enjoying a cool and slightly breezy day.  When I reached one of the wildlife blinds, I decided it was time to stop, eat my orange, and observe the pond for awhile. Not much was going on, although a great egret had landed at the other end of the pond and ducks were floating in the distance.  I stared hard at a belted kingfisher, attempting a mind meld with his bird brain, trying to convince him to come land on a branch right near me for prime photographic opportunities.

The kingfisher was apparently immune to my mind meld technique; he flew off in the wrong direction, chattering to himself.

And then...I heard the tromp, tromp, tromp of multi-feet, and the chatter of small children and a mother's voice telling them to be careful and not to fall off the walkway into the water.

Here is where I confess to you that I am starting to get a little possessive of my favorite trails, and when I see other people on them I know that I should be glad because that means they are outside enjoying nature but really- all that noise is infringing on my solitude and I want to scream, go away! Go on the other trails! This is MY trail!

The family climbed the stairs to the blind, and we stared at each other.  The mother looked at me, my trail pack on the table, my half-eaten orange, my binoculars, and my camera and said, oh, excuse me. We're bothering you. 

No, I said. It's okay, come on in.  I was just getting ready to head on back out to the trail anyway.  I picked up my backpack to reinforce that comment.  One of the kids looked at me and asked, do you know what bird this is? I took a picture with my phone but my mom doesn't know what this is. He showed me his phone; it was the great egret that had been at the other end of the pond.

Once upon a time, I was the mom with the noisy kids, and I suspect that many of the birders and nature photographers that we encountered on the trails cringed to hear us coming, but I was a mom with young kids and we were outside breathing fresh air and when I got home they might take a nap or be quiet for awhile.  I could tell that sometimes our presence was unwelcome but I had two kids with boundless energy and my need was great.

Now I'm the slightly crazy bird loving nature nerd lady with the binoculars, the camera and the extremely muddy hiking boots, and my kids are off working or studying at Starbucks with friends or playing basketball.   I admit, I cringe slightly when the gate attendant warns me that a scout troop is on the trail, or when I hear loud voices in the distance coming the other way.

I'm going to get over it, though.  I might be a bit possessive of my favorite trail, but I need you to bring your lively kids with or without their technology.  I need you to show them how wonderful an afternoon on the trail can be.  I need you to ask me what the blurry bird might be, or if I know what those turtles are sunning on the log at the edge of the pond.  I need you to ask me if I've seen any snakes, or there really are alligators in that water.

I need your kids to want to come out, and come back, and come back again and again because if they don't, they might not learn to love the natural world as much as I do, and then they may not care about it, and then they won't want to protect it for their own children.  I need them to take blurry pictures with their phones of great egrets and then ask someone what it is because there was a time not so long ago that I didn't know what that bird was, either.

I still don't know what a lot of things are that I see. 

It's a learning experience, being outside.  You have to start somewhere.  When I see people on my trail which really isn't my trail even though I like to think that it belongs to me,  I work to keep that in mind.  Everyone has to start somewhere, just like I did before I acquired the muddy boots and the funky pants and the binoculars and the camera. 

So come, start on my trail.   I can share.

Saturday, February 11, 2017

Save Your Pennies

Whenever one of the  Offspring develop a deep desire for some item I am unwilling to buy, like a Lego City set, or some item of technology that I don't really understand and definitely don't want to pay for, my response to them is to "save your pennies".  I'm sure by now they're both tired of hearing it but they know that's my final answer. I am the Mom of Saving Your Money to Buy Your Own Stuff.

Recently, the Son of Never Stops Eating came over to me while I was busy doing nothing, looking sad.  Mom, he told me, we're all doomed! The world is ending!

Oh, crap, I thought. He wants to talk about politics.

What's up? I asked him. You're too young to be so cynical and pessimistic. 

I don't have the new Lego City bank robbery set yet, he said, mournfully.  Oh well, I told him.  That is a sad story. Save your pennies.  He rolled his eyes and skulked away.

Apparently he took me literally about the "saving your pennies" thing because he has discovered a previously overlooked fountain of funding: lost change.  This happened while we were at the car wash, washing mud off my car and my hiking boots.  He looked down at the ground and found four pennies. 

MOM! he yelled! I found money! He picked the pennies up and showed them to me.  I can use this for my Lego City bank robbery set! he yelled gleefully.  What's better than free money, after all? Even better, this was really clean free money because it had been washed off by the car wash. 

That's right, I told him.  Only $79.96 to go, including sales tax.

On the way home, he started looking around the floor of the back seat of my car.  Then he started looking around the driveway. He found another penny.  Then he asked me if I had any spare change in the car.  Yes, I told him.  He held out his hand.  I forked over the $1.25 in quarters left over from the car wash. 

Then he went in the house, got the flashlight and started looking under the furniture.  I suggested that he clean his room;  he might find some spare change underneath the piles of clothes and miscellaneous stuff.  I drew the line at going after the change in my purse; that's my coffee money.

The next day, we decided to walk down to the park after stopping at our Adopt-a-Spot to do some trash pickup.  While we were waiting to cross the street, he looked down at the roadway and sitting there, right in the middle of oncoming traffic, was a gleaming penny.  He was so impatient to pick it up he was practically jumping up and down.

Relax, I told him.  No one is going to take it while you're standing right here. What do you think is going to happen, an eagle is going to come and grab it off the street with its talons while you stand here, waiting for the cars to stop?

MOM! he said, exasperated. It's free money! Everyone likes free money!

I have no idea how much money he currently has in the change jar, but I feel confident that every stray penny, nickel, dime and quarter has been picked up in our house, in my car, on the sidewalk on his route to school, in every store we have been in, the park, the gym where he plays basketball, and every other place he has been in the last week.  No abandoned, lost or forgotten circle money is safe when he is around.

I admit, I am a little mom-proud.  After all, I did tell him to save his pennies- and he is doing exactly that. 

Sunday, February 5, 2017

Theoretical Questions

The Teenager has been busy looking at colleges and attempting to narrow down which fine institutions of higher learning will receive the privilege of having her apply to their school.  She's using various selection criteria, such as "Do they offer my expected field of study?", "What is the campus like?" and "Do they provide overseas internships?".  

As the parent, I also have selection criteria: How much money will they give you in scholarships and how much money are they expecting me to fork over?

The other day, we were sitting at the kitchen table doing stuff and The Teenager asked, "Mom, if you could have gone to any college you wanted to and you didn't have to pay for it, which one would you have gone to?".

I honestly wasn't sure how to answer that question.  College was a long time ago.  Some things about the campus were wonderful; some were not so great.  The classes were small, for the most part, and I had some outstanding professors.  However, I don't recall the cafeteria food being that great (except the breakfast- the breakfast was actually pretty good) and it had a party school reputation. When I'd tell people who did not attend that school where I was enrolled, they'd invariably say, "Isn't that supposed to be a party school?".  Even now, when I tell people where I got my degree, they say, "Really? I heard that was a party school".

OK, maybe it was kind of a party school.  I might have partied a bit when I was a freshman. I suspect that given the right circumstances, any school could be a party school.  In the end I graduated and got a job and my father was probably thrilled that I could finally pay my own car insurance premiums, so it all worked out.

Now that I think about it, perhaps I would have gone somewhere in Colorado, or Oregon, or even overseas. But then I would probably have a different job and a different husband, and then I'd have different kids and I might live in a different state or maybe even a different country. 

A few days later, I was out on the nature trails with the Son of Never Stops Eating and he asked me, "Mom, do you ever wonder what life would be like if you didn't have your children?"

I think about that every time I step on one of your Legos in my bare feet, I told him.  He looked shocked and denied that he ever left Legos on the floor.

Without kids, I'd probably have a lot more money and a  much cleaner house.  I could buy a box of Girl Scout cookies and have a reasonable expectation that I'd actually get to eat more than one.   But I'd also have missed out on such joys as working the band concession stand.  I wouldn't have stories to tell, like the time the Son of Never Stops Eating had to go to the emergency room after he got bit by a squirrel at the zoo (it was a wild squirrel, not an exhibit).  I might even be wondering what my life would have been like if I'd had children.

I'm not sure if my kids like to ask me these questions because it serves some developmental purpose in the maturation of the adolescent brain, or if they just enjoy asking their mother these what-if questions.  When it gets too philosophically deep for me, I just keep one thing in mind: at least they're talking to me.