MEMORANDUM
TO: OFFSPRING
FROM: YOUR MOTHER (Management)
SUBJECT: Christmas Wish Lists and Purchasing of Christmas Presents
1. Christmas wish lists are due to your mother on or before December 2, 2017 by close of business (4:30 PM). Failure to deliver lists by this time could possibly result in the following items being selected as your Christmas gifts: Socks, underwear, dictionaries, VHS tapes of Barney the Purple Dinosaur, and/or anything Disney Princess, or cookbooks and DVD's purchased at the local grocery store bargain table.
2. The following items cannot be funded at this time: Trips to Europe, new laptops, new cars and the Simpsons Lego Set. Management is willing to discuss a partial funding match on technology, especially technology that may be required for college academic work, although expenditure will likely not occur until after the start of calendar year 2018.
3. Requestor should insure that gift items are readily attainable, either online (preferred source is Amazon) or at a local store (Barnes and Noble, Kohl's, JC Penney, Best Buy, or locally owned shops and restaurants). Anything requiring travel beyond a 15 mile radius of the family residence will likely not be funded unless the household purchasing agent is traveling in that direction on other household business. It is acceptable to request gift cards and/or cash in lieu of items. Keep in mind that shopping is not a preferred Management activity, so anything requiring extreme shopping has a lower chance of being funded in this calendar year holiday giving cycle.
4. Management reserves the right to prioritize funding on a need over want basis. For example, a request for new pajamas may receive funding priority over a request for a new video game. Requests for books will receive strong consideration. Requests for items that require ongoing operation and maintenance (O&M) household funding will receive lower consideration (examples: toys requiring batteries, anything requiring new parts or supplies on an ongoing basis) unless requestor notes in gift request that they are willing to fund ongoing O&M themselves. Management is willing to guarantee that requestors will receive at least one wish, as long as request is reasonable and fits within budgetary constraints. Requestors may receive cash contributions toward a desired item if management deems that specified item is beyond management's current funding capabilities.
5. In addition to requesting gifts, you will also be expected to provide gifts for the other three human members of the household. The dog and the hamster are optional. When writing your own lists, be cognizant of the funding limitations of your sibling, and provide acceptable options that your sibling can consider within his or her budgetary constraints. In previous years, management has been willing to wrap these gifts for you. This year, management regrets that they will be unable to provide this service unless they receive a request for assistance at least a week before December 25, 2017.
6. Acceptable formats for Christmas wish lists include handwritten, e-mail, and typed lists printed on actual paper. If handwritten, be sure that writing is legible to management. Photos or detailed descriptions of obscure items that management may be unfamiliar with are appreciated and may facilitate purchasing of gifts. It is not necessary to address these lists to Santa Claus; we all know who Santa Claus really is.
7. As always, your cooperation is appreciated. Management looks forward to reviewing funding requests for Christmas 2017. Remember that your deadline is December 2, 2017 at 4:30 PM. Management is looking forward to a festive and enjoyable Christmas holiday season.
-signed-
Management
Thursday, November 23, 2017
Monday, November 20, 2017
Band Mom Gratitude
This is the week of Thanksgiving, and it is traditional during this time of year to ponder over and share thoughts on thankfulness and gratitude. At the same time, marching band is over- and for the Mom of No, it is really over because the Teenager has finished her high school marching band career. She's moving into concert season, and while I still apparently have some pies to sell and some concerts to attend, my Band Mom career is winding down.
So what's the connection between Thanksgiving and marching band?
First, I have to say that marching band is, honestly, a pain in the butt, especially if you are a marching band parent and you have to get up at o'dark thirty because to be early is to be on time and to be on time is to be late. When band practice starts in August, your car starts smelling like a gym on wheels. You're always getting hit up to volunteer for things, pay for things, show up to things- hard when you're an introvert who really just wants to sit and read a book-and go purchase items at the last minute. August is off limits for that family summer vacation. You sit through football games you're not really interested in when the wind is blowing or the brutal heat is giving you a ferocious headache or the drizzling rain is falling not so gently from the sky because, hey, your kid is in the marching band and it's a darn good show, so pay attention, people! Go buy your nachos when the third quarter of the game starts!
But I am really thankful that my kid decided to become a band kid.
While our school's marching band season ended with football season, other bands in the area advanced to finals in marching contests. Those bands received kudos on Facebook and elsewhere, and I felt a twinge of Mom angst for the band kids in our high school's marching band, who had a great show and worked hard but didn't make it as far. For what it's worth, kids, I know you worked hard, and (not that I am any kind of expert on marching band shows) your show was fantastic.
I am really thankful that The Teenager found a niche in high school, a place where she felt that she belonged, a group that she could contribute to and, as she became a seasoned band veteran, practice some leadership skills. She took it seriously; marching band was not to be trifled with. Sometimes I felt parental annoyance at the long hours spent at a football game or contest when it meant that she'd be coming home to more homework completed in the early morning hours. Somehow, she made it work, although from a parent's point of view the expectations sometimes seemed unrealistic. It's a life lesson: the situation might not always be ideal, but if this is what you want, you will have to find a way to make it work. It's a parent lesson too: as the kids get older, it gets harder to determine when and when not to intervene in their lives. They're not the only ones going through a life transition.
As a not-marching band person, I always watch with interest mixed up with amusement and a dash of pride when The Teenager meets other marching band people, regardless of age. Especially if they also played clarinet, there's always that immediate recognition of a bond shared through experience- the late nights, the early mornings, the long bus rides, the hours of practice, the brutal August heat. What instrument do you play? I play clarinet. I DID, TOO! I once had to cancel a doctor's appointment for her because of a band conflict. When I told the scheduler the reason, her tone of voice changed from annoyed to complete understanding. Oh, my daughter was in band, too, she said. I completely get it. Don't worry about it. Let's see how we can work her in the schedule.
So even though I did my share (and probably more) of complaining about early morning drop-offs and late night pickups, having to get band pies delivered before they defrosted, and summers cut short by that August 1 band practice start date, I'm starting to feel a little sad about it all ending. I'm glad The Teenager was part of it, the triumphs, the challenges, the disappointments, the long days and the later nights, the muscle aches and the sweat, the frustration, the thrills, the camaraderie, the friendships. Even more than being glad, however, I'm thankful that she had the experience. I suspect she's going to miss it; I suspect that I will, too.
So what's the connection between Thanksgiving and marching band?
First, I have to say that marching band is, honestly, a pain in the butt, especially if you are a marching band parent and you have to get up at o'dark thirty because to be early is to be on time and to be on time is to be late. When band practice starts in August, your car starts smelling like a gym on wheels. You're always getting hit up to volunteer for things, pay for things, show up to things- hard when you're an introvert who really just wants to sit and read a book-and go purchase items at the last minute. August is off limits for that family summer vacation. You sit through football games you're not really interested in when the wind is blowing or the brutal heat is giving you a ferocious headache or the drizzling rain is falling not so gently from the sky because, hey, your kid is in the marching band and it's a darn good show, so pay attention, people! Go buy your nachos when the third quarter of the game starts!
But I am really thankful that my kid decided to become a band kid.
While our school's marching band season ended with football season, other bands in the area advanced to finals in marching contests. Those bands received kudos on Facebook and elsewhere, and I felt a twinge of Mom angst for the band kids in our high school's marching band, who had a great show and worked hard but didn't make it as far. For what it's worth, kids, I know you worked hard, and (not that I am any kind of expert on marching band shows) your show was fantastic.
I am really thankful that The Teenager found a niche in high school, a place where she felt that she belonged, a group that she could contribute to and, as she became a seasoned band veteran, practice some leadership skills. She took it seriously; marching band was not to be trifled with. Sometimes I felt parental annoyance at the long hours spent at a football game or contest when it meant that she'd be coming home to more homework completed in the early morning hours. Somehow, she made it work, although from a parent's point of view the expectations sometimes seemed unrealistic. It's a life lesson: the situation might not always be ideal, but if this is what you want, you will have to find a way to make it work. It's a parent lesson too: as the kids get older, it gets harder to determine when and when not to intervene in their lives. They're not the only ones going through a life transition.
As a not-marching band person, I always watch with interest mixed up with amusement and a dash of pride when The Teenager meets other marching band people, regardless of age. Especially if they also played clarinet, there's always that immediate recognition of a bond shared through experience- the late nights, the early mornings, the long bus rides, the hours of practice, the brutal August heat. What instrument do you play? I play clarinet. I DID, TOO! I once had to cancel a doctor's appointment for her because of a band conflict. When I told the scheduler the reason, her tone of voice changed from annoyed to complete understanding. Oh, my daughter was in band, too, she said. I completely get it. Don't worry about it. Let's see how we can work her in the schedule.
So even though I did my share (and probably more) of complaining about early morning drop-offs and late night pickups, having to get band pies delivered before they defrosted, and summers cut short by that August 1 band practice start date, I'm starting to feel a little sad about it all ending. I'm glad The Teenager was part of it, the triumphs, the challenges, the disappointments, the long days and the later nights, the muscle aches and the sweat, the frustration, the thrills, the camaraderie, the friendships. Even more than being glad, however, I'm thankful that she had the experience. I suspect she's going to miss it; I suspect that I will, too.
Sunday, November 12, 2017
Change is Hard
Last week, the Mom of No's mobile device died.
It had been a lingering disaster in the making, as the battery life got shorter and shorter until finally the Smartphone of No was spending more time on the charger than off of it, and then finally it just decided that it was really just done with charging entirely. It was clear: the time had come to suck it up and get a new phone. Enforced change was coming.
Back in the ancient days Before Internet, one of the first things I had to do as a newly minted college graduate and contributor to society was set up phone and electricity accounts for my first grown-up apartment. This process involved making two phone calls and writing out two deposit checks. The big decision was whether or not I wanted call waiting. I probably could have gotten cable TV but since it was my own money being spent and I was feeling newly frugal, I decided I could probably live with the five free channels on offer.
Then cell phones and the Internet happened and "do you want call waiting?" turned into "iPhone or Android? Cable or satellite dish or some kind of internet related method that everyone (but you) seems to understand? How much data do you use per month? Do you stream videos? Do you want a hotspot for your house? How many devices do you have?".
Not only was I on some grandfathered data plan with my cell phone carrier, but I'd gotten an URGENT e-mail from our TV and internet provider informing me that our agreement with them was expiring and we needed to call IMMEDIATELY to find out what FANTASTIC deals we could get! Before the Dad of No and I could do that, we had to answer the bigger question, did we even want to stay with our current provider? The internet service had been OK, but the TV service, not so much. So what did we want to do? Cable? Satellite? Something about a "stick"? I made a sad attempt at research and gave up when I realized I was completely confused. I did what any self-respecting change-hater would do: I delegated the decision to the Dad of No under the premise that he watches more TV than I do, so he had more interest in the outcome.
Then all of a sudden I had this dying mobile phone, and I had to rapidly come to terms with the undisputable fact that more change was coming. I really just wanted the iPhone fairy to come to my house and slide a functioning phone under my pillow as I slept, kind of like the tooth fairy but for grownups, but that doesn't happen in real life, at least not to me.
The last time I'd gotten a new phone, the service provider had tried to talk me into a program in which you kept the phone for six months, and then you could get a new phone, but you didn't actually own the phone, so there was a "payment plan" added to the bill, but you could only get certain data plans if you signed up for this plan, and if you wanted to buy the phone then you had other data plans and they weren't as good as the first data plan, and after about five minutes I was really confused because no one actually would answer the most important question of all, which was, "How much is this actually going to cost? or the second most important question of all, which was "What happens when something happens to the not-paid for phone?".
But you can get an upgrade every SIX MONTHS! The representative kept telling me. Twice a year, you can have a NEW PHONE! I finally had to tell the enthusiastic young salesman that it takes me a year to figure out how to use the darn thing. The minute the words left my mouth I realized that was exactly something the Grandpa of No would say, which made me feel even older, because I really just wanted a phone that worked with a data plan I could understand and a price that made sense, and none of those things seemed to be happening for me. I know choice is supposed to be good but this was too much choice; I just wanted a phone!
So, feeling a sense of angst-ridden deja-vu, I ventured once again to the store of the mobile devices. As it turned out the process had been revised somewhat in the last five years so once we went through the whole thing of "Wow, this phone is a relic! I can't believe it was still working for you!" the whippersnapper saleslady was able to find me a plan with unlimited data and a discount on a TV plan that included the channel that has The Simpsons, all at a price I could live with, so I even managed to do the near impossible, which was to make everyone in the household happy at the same time.
Plus, now I have a phone that doesn't require a charge every five minutes, which I intend to keep for the next five years, because that is probably how long it will take me to figure out how it works.
It had been a lingering disaster in the making, as the battery life got shorter and shorter until finally the Smartphone of No was spending more time on the charger than off of it, and then finally it just decided that it was really just done with charging entirely. It was clear: the time had come to suck it up and get a new phone. Enforced change was coming.
Back in the ancient days Before Internet, one of the first things I had to do as a newly minted college graduate and contributor to society was set up phone and electricity accounts for my first grown-up apartment. This process involved making two phone calls and writing out two deposit checks. The big decision was whether or not I wanted call waiting. I probably could have gotten cable TV but since it was my own money being spent and I was feeling newly frugal, I decided I could probably live with the five free channels on offer.
Then cell phones and the Internet happened and "do you want call waiting?" turned into "iPhone or Android? Cable or satellite dish or some kind of internet related method that everyone (but you) seems to understand? How much data do you use per month? Do you stream videos? Do you want a hotspot for your house? How many devices do you have?".
Not only was I on some grandfathered data plan with my cell phone carrier, but I'd gotten an URGENT e-mail from our TV and internet provider informing me that our agreement with them was expiring and we needed to call IMMEDIATELY to find out what FANTASTIC deals we could get! Before the Dad of No and I could do that, we had to answer the bigger question, did we even want to stay with our current provider? The internet service had been OK, but the TV service, not so much. So what did we want to do? Cable? Satellite? Something about a "stick"? I made a sad attempt at research and gave up when I realized I was completely confused. I did what any self-respecting change-hater would do: I delegated the decision to the Dad of No under the premise that he watches more TV than I do, so he had more interest in the outcome.
Then all of a sudden I had this dying mobile phone, and I had to rapidly come to terms with the undisputable fact that more change was coming. I really just wanted the iPhone fairy to come to my house and slide a functioning phone under my pillow as I slept, kind of like the tooth fairy but for grownups, but that doesn't happen in real life, at least not to me.
The last time I'd gotten a new phone, the service provider had tried to talk me into a program in which you kept the phone for six months, and then you could get a new phone, but you didn't actually own the phone, so there was a "payment plan" added to the bill, but you could only get certain data plans if you signed up for this plan, and if you wanted to buy the phone then you had other data plans and they weren't as good as the first data plan, and after about five minutes I was really confused because no one actually would answer the most important question of all, which was, "How much is this actually going to cost? or the second most important question of all, which was "What happens when something happens to the not-paid for phone?".
But you can get an upgrade every SIX MONTHS! The representative kept telling me. Twice a year, you can have a NEW PHONE! I finally had to tell the enthusiastic young salesman that it takes me a year to figure out how to use the darn thing. The minute the words left my mouth I realized that was exactly something the Grandpa of No would say, which made me feel even older, because I really just wanted a phone that worked with a data plan I could understand and a price that made sense, and none of those things seemed to be happening for me. I know choice is supposed to be good but this was too much choice; I just wanted a phone!
So, feeling a sense of angst-ridden deja-vu, I ventured once again to the store of the mobile devices. As it turned out the process had been revised somewhat in the last five years so once we went through the whole thing of "Wow, this phone is a relic! I can't believe it was still working for you!" the whippersnapper saleslady was able to find me a plan with unlimited data and a discount on a TV plan that included the channel that has The Simpsons, all at a price I could live with, so I even managed to do the near impossible, which was to make everyone in the household happy at the same time.
Plus, now I have a phone that doesn't require a charge every five minutes, which I intend to keep for the next five years, because that is probably how long it will take me to figure out how it works.
Monday, October 23, 2017
Face to Face
Lately, I've been pondering my relationship with Facebook.
At first, Facebook seems like an introvert's dream. I can keep up with my friends without having to talk to them on the phone. Facebook and smartphones were made for people like me.
Sometimes, however, it seems like Facebook causes more problems than it's worth.
People have different expectations of Facebook interactions. Some people use it to promote their small business; others use it to share photos of their adorable offspring or of their teenagers rolling their eyes on the first day of school. Sometimes people sign up for Facebook with an expectation that it will be a great way to discuss deep philosophical issues with a wider audience, or that it will be like meeting up with friends at the local coffee shop for lively discussion without actually having to put on socially appropriate garments and leaving the house. Some people sign up for an account to spy on their teenagers and then find out that teenagers don't really seem to use Facebook, so they never log in. Some people use it as a platform to express their political views. Many people probably use it for some combination of most of the above.
The Mom of No uses Facebook to post great nature photos taken at her local nature preserve, the occasional snarky commentary on current political issues, and as a resource to remember things like where the local breakfast club is meeting. I feel like I should warn people when they send me a friend request: I post a lot of snake photos (and other weird nature stuff), and I have a really weird sense of humor. Proceed at your own risk.
Often, Facebook seems like one big giant 21st century etiquette minefield. What is the appropriate rule for friending certain people, like your new boss or your child's teacher? If someone starts annoying you on a regular basis, should you unfollow them or unfriend them? If you unfollow them, what should you say when, several weeks later, they ask if you saw something they posted on their page? How should you act when someone unfriends you and then you see them a week later? If someone takes a screen shot of a conversation you've had with them on Messenger and posts it for public consumption, what is the best way to handle that? Facebook etiquette goes way beyond the "Say please and thank you and write thank you notes" that I learned as a kid.
And the potential for misunderstandings- that's bigger than the Son of Never Stops Eating's appetite right after an hour-long swim practice.
I like using Facebook. I'm definitely not considering giving it up entirely. Lately, however, I've started to feel like the care and feeding of my Facebook life is taking over my real life, and I'm not quite sure how to proceed. Facebook seems to be so embedded in 21st century American life that, although I know there are people who survive (probably quite well) without any social media accounts, I don't think I could do it. I like seeing people post about books they've read, or their cool nature finds, or videos of the marching band show. I am good friends with people I might not have met if I had not been on Facebook.
Sometimes, however, it's hard to walk away from something on Facebook that would probably be better off left alone. I have spent hours mulling over a controversial or pot-stirring post, mentally composing a great response in my head (and those responses always sounds better in my head than it reads when typed out). In the last few months, I've started getting a strong feeling that this is probably time that would be better spent doing other things. Perhaps it's because I'm about to have a birthday and, as happens every year, I'm in somewhat of a funk about what I'm doing with my life and wondering if I've somehow missed accomplishing some big thing because of all the time I've spent on Facebook.
So, I've decided to make a conscious effort to spend less time online and more time doing other things, like reading more books, or trying to learn how to use the camera I got a year ago instead of just using the auto function for everything, or actually talking to people. Yesterday, I spent some time trying out a ginger cookie recipe I saw in a magazine. That is a whole other story for another day, but I will say that when I looked at the cookie photo, I thought I was going to be getting a big cookie and what I got was the size of a quarter. Instead of eating one cookie (okay, two) I have to eat five (okay, ten).
I'll still be on Facebook, however, just not as much. Someone has to post great photographs of snakes found during nature hikes. You never know, there might be a cookie review or two to share at some point. I am the Mom of Cookies Should be Bigger Than A Quarter.
At first, Facebook seems like an introvert's dream. I can keep up with my friends without having to talk to them on the phone. Facebook and smartphones were made for people like me.
Sometimes, however, it seems like Facebook causes more problems than it's worth.
People have different expectations of Facebook interactions. Some people use it to promote their small business; others use it to share photos of their adorable offspring or of their teenagers rolling their eyes on the first day of school. Sometimes people sign up for Facebook with an expectation that it will be a great way to discuss deep philosophical issues with a wider audience, or that it will be like meeting up with friends at the local coffee shop for lively discussion without actually having to put on socially appropriate garments and leaving the house. Some people sign up for an account to spy on their teenagers and then find out that teenagers don't really seem to use Facebook, so they never log in. Some people use it as a platform to express their political views. Many people probably use it for some combination of most of the above.
The Mom of No uses Facebook to post great nature photos taken at her local nature preserve, the occasional snarky commentary on current political issues, and as a resource to remember things like where the local breakfast club is meeting. I feel like I should warn people when they send me a friend request: I post a lot of snake photos (and other weird nature stuff), and I have a really weird sense of humor. Proceed at your own risk.
Often, Facebook seems like one big giant 21st century etiquette minefield. What is the appropriate rule for friending certain people, like your new boss or your child's teacher? If someone starts annoying you on a regular basis, should you unfollow them or unfriend them? If you unfollow them, what should you say when, several weeks later, they ask if you saw something they posted on their page? How should you act when someone unfriends you and then you see them a week later? If someone takes a screen shot of a conversation you've had with them on Messenger and posts it for public consumption, what is the best way to handle that? Facebook etiquette goes way beyond the "Say please and thank you and write thank you notes" that I learned as a kid.
And the potential for misunderstandings- that's bigger than the Son of Never Stops Eating's appetite right after an hour-long swim practice.
I like using Facebook. I'm definitely not considering giving it up entirely. Lately, however, I've started to feel like the care and feeding of my Facebook life is taking over my real life, and I'm not quite sure how to proceed. Facebook seems to be so embedded in 21st century American life that, although I know there are people who survive (probably quite well) without any social media accounts, I don't think I could do it. I like seeing people post about books they've read, or their cool nature finds, or videos of the marching band show. I am good friends with people I might not have met if I had not been on Facebook.
Sometimes, however, it's hard to walk away from something on Facebook that would probably be better off left alone. I have spent hours mulling over a controversial or pot-stirring post, mentally composing a great response in my head (and those responses always sounds better in my head than it reads when typed out). In the last few months, I've started getting a strong feeling that this is probably time that would be better spent doing other things. Perhaps it's because I'm about to have a birthday and, as happens every year, I'm in somewhat of a funk about what I'm doing with my life and wondering if I've somehow missed accomplishing some big thing because of all the time I've spent on Facebook.
So, I've decided to make a conscious effort to spend less time online and more time doing other things, like reading more books, or trying to learn how to use the camera I got a year ago instead of just using the auto function for everything, or actually talking to people. Yesterday, I spent some time trying out a ginger cookie recipe I saw in a magazine. That is a whole other story for another day, but I will say that when I looked at the cookie photo, I thought I was going to be getting a big cookie and what I got was the size of a quarter. Instead of eating one cookie (okay, two) I have to eat five (okay, ten).
I'll still be on Facebook, however, just not as much. Someone has to post great photographs of snakes found during nature hikes. You never know, there might be a cookie review or two to share at some point. I am the Mom of Cookies Should be Bigger Than A Quarter.
Sunday, October 15, 2017
Home Alone
This past weekend, I was faced with a situation I have rarely encountered since becoming a mom seventeen years ago. The Son of Never Stops Eating and the Dad of No were going to the state Special Olympics swim meet, and the Teenager was going to a band competition that was being held several hours away.
I was going to be home by myself.
This hardly ever happens to me. Several years ago, the Dad of No decided to take the kids to visit his parents, who lived in another state at the time, and I was going to be home alone for three entire days. The morning after they left, I ended up in the ER with abdominal pain which required the removal of my gallbladder to resolve. Instead of being home by myself for three days of introvert heaven, I ended up in the hospital. That was not what I had planned at all.
Also, it turned out the anesthesiologist didn't accept my insurance. That's a whole other story.
This time, I told myself, no hospital. I was going to enjoy the quiet solitude. No one would be complaining about how there wasn't any chocolate milk in the refrigerator, or asking me if I wanted to watch Simpsons videos on the iPad. I could read a book, work on my iNaturalist observations, and eat what I wanted when I wanted. I could go to the grocery store without ravenous teenagers lobbying for snacks with no actual nutritional value. I was going to get a small taste of what being an empty nester is going to be like. It was going to be awesome.
My first home alone project was to declutter the teenagers' rooms. This project required me to confront the reality that both of my kids have hoarder tendencies. One has enough Legos to stock a large toy store, and the other has enough books to open up her own library. This creates an interesting parental dilemma- it seems wrong to say that your kid has too many books. You can never have too many books, except perhaps when you have a small house with minimal shelving space.
I have no idea what she plans to do with these books when she goes off to college, but, after years of encouraging good reading habits, I just don't think I can utter the words "Stop buying books!". Yes, I know, an e-reader would be the perfect solution, but there's just something wonderful about hard-copy books that a digital reader can't duplicate. I think I'm just going to have to accept that there are going to be piles of books in that room for awhile.
I also realized that I wasn't the only one in the house that was used to having other people around. The dog started giving me baleful looks, and then I realized that she wanted her walks. That's usually the Son of Never Stops Eating's job, but he wasn't there. Every time I looked at that mutt, she'd look back at me with that expression that says "I am NOT getting enough attention here! Step it up!".
That dog sulked the entire weekend. Clearly, even though she was getting her walks, I was not providing the high level of service that she is used to. Every now and then she'd look over at the garage door, expecting her real attention-giver to walk through the door at any minute to rectify the horrible situation she found herself in. I was, evidently, a poor substitute.
At least the hamster seemed okay with the situation.
It was really quiet. It was too quiet. I started to miss my family.
Actually, that's not entirely true. I was really enjoying the quiet. I was getting periodic updates from the Dad of No on the Son of Never Stops Eating's swimming successes. I was following the band on Facebook and e-mail updates. I felt like I was still in the loop while reaping all the benefits of solitude. But the house was making weird sounds, and the dog was being judgmental about my dog-walking skills, and the dishwasher wasn't emptying itself. Finally, the Teenager came home from her band trip, and I was no longer alone.
I'm not sure I'm ready for empty-nesting just yet; the family mutt clearly isn't. But I did the grocery shopping three days ago and we still have food, so the weekend did have some benefits.
I was going to be home by myself.
This hardly ever happens to me. Several years ago, the Dad of No decided to take the kids to visit his parents, who lived in another state at the time, and I was going to be home alone for three entire days. The morning after they left, I ended up in the ER with abdominal pain which required the removal of my gallbladder to resolve. Instead of being home by myself for three days of introvert heaven, I ended up in the hospital. That was not what I had planned at all.
Also, it turned out the anesthesiologist didn't accept my insurance. That's a whole other story.
This time, I told myself, no hospital. I was going to enjoy the quiet solitude. No one would be complaining about how there wasn't any chocolate milk in the refrigerator, or asking me if I wanted to watch Simpsons videos on the iPad. I could read a book, work on my iNaturalist observations, and eat what I wanted when I wanted. I could go to the grocery store without ravenous teenagers lobbying for snacks with no actual nutritional value. I was going to get a small taste of what being an empty nester is going to be like. It was going to be awesome.
My first home alone project was to declutter the teenagers' rooms. This project required me to confront the reality that both of my kids have hoarder tendencies. One has enough Legos to stock a large toy store, and the other has enough books to open up her own library. This creates an interesting parental dilemma- it seems wrong to say that your kid has too many books. You can never have too many books, except perhaps when you have a small house with minimal shelving space.
I have no idea what she plans to do with these books when she goes off to college, but, after years of encouraging good reading habits, I just don't think I can utter the words "Stop buying books!". Yes, I know, an e-reader would be the perfect solution, but there's just something wonderful about hard-copy books that a digital reader can't duplicate. I think I'm just going to have to accept that there are going to be piles of books in that room for awhile.
I also realized that I wasn't the only one in the house that was used to having other people around. The dog started giving me baleful looks, and then I realized that she wanted her walks. That's usually the Son of Never Stops Eating's job, but he wasn't there. Every time I looked at that mutt, she'd look back at me with that expression that says "I am NOT getting enough attention here! Step it up!".
That dog sulked the entire weekend. Clearly, even though she was getting her walks, I was not providing the high level of service that she is used to. Every now and then she'd look over at the garage door, expecting her real attention-giver to walk through the door at any minute to rectify the horrible situation she found herself in. I was, evidently, a poor substitute.
At least the hamster seemed okay with the situation.
It was really quiet. It was too quiet. I started to miss my family.
Actually, that's not entirely true. I was really enjoying the quiet. I was getting periodic updates from the Dad of No on the Son of Never Stops Eating's swimming successes. I was following the band on Facebook and e-mail updates. I felt like I was still in the loop while reaping all the benefits of solitude. But the house was making weird sounds, and the dog was being judgmental about my dog-walking skills, and the dishwasher wasn't emptying itself. Finally, the Teenager came home from her band trip, and I was no longer alone.
I'm not sure I'm ready for empty-nesting just yet; the family mutt clearly isn't. But I did the grocery shopping three days ago and we still have food, so the weekend did have some benefits.
Sunday, October 8, 2017
Speaking Up
A few weeks ago, the Son of Never Stops Eating started complaining about the sidewalks around our house. He'd tripped on the pavement while walking the family mutt. He came home and pointed out his skinned knee and indignantly informed the Dad of No and I that someone needed to fix the sidewalks because it was hard to ride his scooter and walk the dog.
Don't complain to me, I told him. I'm your mother, not the sidewalk repair fairy. You need to complain to the city. They're the ones responsible for repairing sidewalks.
How do I do that? he asked me. I suppose I could have done it for him via e-mail, but at that moment I realized that I was being presented with a valuable Mom Teaching Opportunity.
It's interesting to ask people what personal skills or qualities they think are most important for children to learn. Often, people will say kindness, resilience, independence, inclusion, how to stand up to bullying, or how to handle adversity. All of these are good and important. As a parent of a young man with a developmental disability, I think one of the most essential skills I need to teach him is self-advocacy. It's important for all kids to learn this, but it's especially important for my son to learn how to speak up for himself, especially as he approaches adulthood. One day his mother won't be around to watch out for him, and he'll need to make his needs and wants known in a world that isn't always willing to listen.
I suggested to him that he go to the next City Council meeting and tell them about the sidewalks. Public speaking is something that makes a lot of people nervous, so I expected him to turn my suggestion down flat. But he surprised me by expressing a desire to do exactly that.
OK, I told him. You'll need to work on a speech. You only have a few minutes so you have to get to the point. You can't ramble or talk about Legos or The Simpsons, and you have to make sure you wear a clean shirt.
I know what to do, Mom! You don't have to tell me everything! he told me, in his best exasperated adolescent voice. I even got an eye roll.
I thought he'd probably forget about my suggestion, but when I reminded him a few weeks later that the council meeting was coming up, it turned out that he'd been practicing at school and that he had a speech all prepared, which he recited for me. He was really serious about his sidewalk cause.
Do you think there will be a lot of people there? he asked me. I told him I didn't know, and asked him if a crowd would make him not want to speak. No, he told me. I still want to do it. Even if there are a lot of people.
We went to the meeting, filled out a speaker card, and he waited patiently for his turn as we watched our city government at work. When his name was called, he went up to the podium, said what he'd come to say, and sat back down. A city employee came over and talked to us about the area of concern. I asked the Son of Never Stops Eating how he felt now that his speech was finished, and he told me he felt like he'd done a good job and that he was happy it was over.
I was full of Mom Pride. I recalled to myself that when he was a toddler, he barely spoke. It wasn't until after he started public preschool and began getting speech therapy that he began to talk. Now here he was, several years later, voluntarily speaking in public to a room full of people about something he was concerned about. He was learning that he has the right to speak up for himself, and to have his concerns heard. It was a very important learning experience for him.
I actually suspect he might have enjoyed it just a bit. I wouldn't be completely surprised if he decides to take up another cause dear to his heart: more Legos for the library, a 24 hour Simpsons cartoon watching marathon in the town plaza, or a later start to the school day so that he can sleep in. Watch out, world- here he comes.
Don't complain to me, I told him. I'm your mother, not the sidewalk repair fairy. You need to complain to the city. They're the ones responsible for repairing sidewalks.
How do I do that? he asked me. I suppose I could have done it for him via e-mail, but at that moment I realized that I was being presented with a valuable Mom Teaching Opportunity.
It's interesting to ask people what personal skills or qualities they think are most important for children to learn. Often, people will say kindness, resilience, independence, inclusion, how to stand up to bullying, or how to handle adversity. All of these are good and important. As a parent of a young man with a developmental disability, I think one of the most essential skills I need to teach him is self-advocacy. It's important for all kids to learn this, but it's especially important for my son to learn how to speak up for himself, especially as he approaches adulthood. One day his mother won't be around to watch out for him, and he'll need to make his needs and wants known in a world that isn't always willing to listen.
I suggested to him that he go to the next City Council meeting and tell them about the sidewalks. Public speaking is something that makes a lot of people nervous, so I expected him to turn my suggestion down flat. But he surprised me by expressing a desire to do exactly that.
OK, I told him. You'll need to work on a speech. You only have a few minutes so you have to get to the point. You can't ramble or talk about Legos or The Simpsons, and you have to make sure you wear a clean shirt.
I know what to do, Mom! You don't have to tell me everything! he told me, in his best exasperated adolescent voice. I even got an eye roll.
I thought he'd probably forget about my suggestion, but when I reminded him a few weeks later that the council meeting was coming up, it turned out that he'd been practicing at school and that he had a speech all prepared, which he recited for me. He was really serious about his sidewalk cause.
Do you think there will be a lot of people there? he asked me. I told him I didn't know, and asked him if a crowd would make him not want to speak. No, he told me. I still want to do it. Even if there are a lot of people.
We went to the meeting, filled out a speaker card, and he waited patiently for his turn as we watched our city government at work. When his name was called, he went up to the podium, said what he'd come to say, and sat back down. A city employee came over and talked to us about the area of concern. I asked the Son of Never Stops Eating how he felt now that his speech was finished, and he told me he felt like he'd done a good job and that he was happy it was over.
I was full of Mom Pride. I recalled to myself that when he was a toddler, he barely spoke. It wasn't until after he started public preschool and began getting speech therapy that he began to talk. Now here he was, several years later, voluntarily speaking in public to a room full of people about something he was concerned about. He was learning that he has the right to speak up for himself, and to have his concerns heard. It was a very important learning experience for him.
I actually suspect he might have enjoyed it just a bit. I wouldn't be completely surprised if he decides to take up another cause dear to his heart: more Legos for the library, a 24 hour Simpsons cartoon watching marathon in the town plaza, or a later start to the school day so that he can sleep in. Watch out, world- here he comes.
Sunday, October 1, 2017
Looking Younger Every Day
Last week was not the best week for the Mom of No- it could have been worse, of course, but it was not a sparkling diamond in the crown of 2017. For the first four days of the week, I was home sick with some nasty respiratory crud which resulted in a horrible cough that could probably be heard for miles around my abode. Finally, last Thursday, I felt well enough to venture from home and go to work.
As I sat at the kitchen table, eating my usual toasted raisin and cinnamon English muffin for breakfast, I felt something crunchy moving around in my mouth. That's odd, I thought; these muffins are usually rather soft. Maybe part of the crust was a little extra-toasted. My brain still wasn't functioning at its optimal speed, so it took a few seconds for the message to get from my tongue to my brain: that crunchy bit wasn't English muffin. That was part of a lower front tooth.
Awww, crap, I thought. Just what I need.
I was informed by the dentist's office that they had an available appointment at 3 PM, which I gladly took. My brain was working rapidly on producing extreme dental scenarios in which the rest of the tooth broke off at some point before dental rescue could take place, initiating much uncomfortable and expensive dental work. As far as I was concerned-and I am no fan of going to the dentist- 3 PM couldn't come fast enough.
Finally, after a day of obsessing over the hole in my tooth, I was in the dental chair being prepped by the assistant. While we were talking, a young man walked in, greeted me, said he'd be back in a minute, and walked out.
Who's that? I asked the dental assistant, thinking to myself that whoever that young man is, he looks like he's in high school.
That's the new dentist, she said. He's going to come back in a minute and look at your tooth.
I was taught as a kid that it is rude to ask about how old people are, but I really had to know, and the Grandma of No wasn't around to give me a Mom Look. I turned around and looked at the assistant and asked her. I think he's 28, she said. He really does look young.
Yes. I am old enough to be my dentist's mother. Even more than having a daughter about to graduate from high school or a son who is six inches taller than I am, that makes me feel like I am getting old. The entire time he was working on my poor busted front tooth, my brain abandoned the "worst case dental scenario" thought process and started working on "This guy is a dentist and he is young enough to be your son and that is really giving me some angst".
I probably need to start getting used to it, because sometimes the new employees at work look really young to me, and then I find out that they were born two years after I graduated from college and I'll think, hey, young whippersnapper, I've been working longer than you've been alive. Or I'll say something about the Soviet Union, or that a certain 80's song was the theme of my high school class, or that I had to type college papers on a typewriter, and I start suspecting that the other person, who was probably born after I got my first e-mail address, is thinking, wow, this woman is practically ancient history.
The Son of Never Stops Eating, who is currently obsessed with The Simpsons, asked me several months ago if I had ever seen The Simpsons. Sure, I told him. I used to watch that show when I was in college.
Wow, Mom, he said, sounding impressed and awed. You're older than Homer Simpson!
Yes. I'm older than Homer Simpson, I remember life before the Internet, and I'm old enough to be my dentist's mother, but hopefully I still got a lot of good years left in me.
As I sat at the kitchen table, eating my usual toasted raisin and cinnamon English muffin for breakfast, I felt something crunchy moving around in my mouth. That's odd, I thought; these muffins are usually rather soft. Maybe part of the crust was a little extra-toasted. My brain still wasn't functioning at its optimal speed, so it took a few seconds for the message to get from my tongue to my brain: that crunchy bit wasn't English muffin. That was part of a lower front tooth.
Awww, crap, I thought. Just what I need.
I was informed by the dentist's office that they had an available appointment at 3 PM, which I gladly took. My brain was working rapidly on producing extreme dental scenarios in which the rest of the tooth broke off at some point before dental rescue could take place, initiating much uncomfortable and expensive dental work. As far as I was concerned-and I am no fan of going to the dentist- 3 PM couldn't come fast enough.
Finally, after a day of obsessing over the hole in my tooth, I was in the dental chair being prepped by the assistant. While we were talking, a young man walked in, greeted me, said he'd be back in a minute, and walked out.
Who's that? I asked the dental assistant, thinking to myself that whoever that young man is, he looks like he's in high school.
That's the new dentist, she said. He's going to come back in a minute and look at your tooth.
I was taught as a kid that it is rude to ask about how old people are, but I really had to know, and the Grandma of No wasn't around to give me a Mom Look. I turned around and looked at the assistant and asked her. I think he's 28, she said. He really does look young.
Yes. I am old enough to be my dentist's mother. Even more than having a daughter about to graduate from high school or a son who is six inches taller than I am, that makes me feel like I am getting old. The entire time he was working on my poor busted front tooth, my brain abandoned the "worst case dental scenario" thought process and started working on "This guy is a dentist and he is young enough to be your son and that is really giving me some angst".
I probably need to start getting used to it, because sometimes the new employees at work look really young to me, and then I find out that they were born two years after I graduated from college and I'll think, hey, young whippersnapper, I've been working longer than you've been alive. Or I'll say something about the Soviet Union, or that a certain 80's song was the theme of my high school class, or that I had to type college papers on a typewriter, and I start suspecting that the other person, who was probably born after I got my first e-mail address, is thinking, wow, this woman is practically ancient history.
The Son of Never Stops Eating, who is currently obsessed with The Simpsons, asked me several months ago if I had ever seen The Simpsons. Sure, I told him. I used to watch that show when I was in college.
Wow, Mom, he said, sounding impressed and awed. You're older than Homer Simpson!
Yes. I'm older than Homer Simpson, I remember life before the Internet, and I'm old enough to be my dentist's mother, but hopefully I still got a lot of good years left in me.
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