How the Fairy Tale Really Ended...

I recently received an email from my Mom entitled, "How the Fairy Tales Really Ended." 

The pictures were hilarious.  Here are a couple...

Cinderella...

Snow White...

Unable to contain my laughter, I sent this along to a select few of my friends who are knee deep in diapers, juggling kids, activities, school, husbands, work, etc...you know, "living the dream."

A few hours later I received a phone call from one of those friends.  She very pointedly explained to me that her daughter had gotten a hold of her phone and what popped up on her screen was my email.  I laughed, thinking that she'd seen Snow White toting around her "Irish Twins" or asking why Cinderella was not in her castle but before I could ask her for any additional details, she told me that her daughter was very, VERY concerned and upset.  She wanted me to explain to her (daughter via conference call) just what exactly had happened to Belle?  (see below)

Was she in the hospital??  Was she back in Disney World??  How did this happen?  She just had to know that Belle was okay.

Clearly, Belle was having some work done...

I did some quick thinking.  I was in hot water...I felt as if I'd given up Santa's gig or something... "Well, you see honey, Belle and the Beast were, um, riding horses in the forest, yeah... Outside the Beast's castle...and uh, the horse was startled by um, something, and reared up...and poor Belle fell off and bumped her face on a fallen log...she did get a little bit hurt, but yes! she's totally fine!  The doctors stitched her ALL up and now she is as good as new...and even more Beautiful than ever..." 

[end speaker phone conversation]

Thankfully, I think she bought the story.  I'm sure the next time her family visits Disney World, she'll have all kinds of questions to ask Belle...hopefully Belle will have that morning off from the Princess Breakfast and can dodge the inquisition... 

The good news is that Belle's work has fully healed and she is lovlier than ever, thanks to the skilled hands of Disney's finest plastic surgeons.  The bad news is that despite Belle's best efforts at maintaing her youth and beauty, the Beast has left her for Selena Gomez, who just recently celebrated her 18th birthday.

Small Affirmations...

Being a parent is tough.  There are no raises, promotions, titles, or year-end bonuses, so it's tough to figure out when to give yourself a pat on the back.  I often find myself mired in the refereeing and daily trials of parenthood, just trying to get everyone fed, clothed, cleaned, and to their respective activities and schools.  I am guilty too, of forgetting that I am not perfect, so why do I expect my kids to always be perfect?  There's nothing wrong with setting the bar high, but within reason! 

The last couple of weeks, I've had enough "huh" moments that I think I can say, with some small amount of certainty, that I might be doing something right.  Not everything, for I am surely scarring them in ways that will take a therapist many thousands of dollars to un-do at some point in their futures, but something, which is better than nothing...

AJ (21 months):  I sneezed this morning and he stopped what he was doing (running down the hall), looked at me and said, "Bess noo, Mama."  Then he resumed his sprint, until the wall stopped him. 

Nora (age 4):  Cleaned my truck, because it was "dirty and she wanted to surprise me".  Or should I say, cleaned the front grill and headlights, because that was all she could reach.  With a scrub brush and half a bottle of Palmolive dumped into a beach bucket.

Brady (age 7):  Used the word "gossamer" in a sentence, in the proper context.  Seriously?  Gossamer?  Didn't that word go out of use in the 1700s?  On a separate, but no less profound note (for him), he's made it through the first week of school, getting up at 6:30am, plus three nights of football camp (2 hours/evening in 100 degree heat) without whining, complaining, or having a meltdown. 

Brennan (age 9):  Gave me one of the highest nods a "tween" can: held my hand, gave me a kiss and a hug, and said "Love you, too" on her way into 4th grade orientation.  It was also her idea that we stop by "GiGi's" house on our walks up in Michigan (I would have stopped in anyway, but thought it was sweet that Brennan said it first).  How awesome is it that a 9 year old thinks her Great Grandma is fun to visit? 

Of course, you may notice that "I" am taking all the credit for their affirmation of "my" outstanding parental abilities.  I'll be happy to write the next post on all of Mark's bad habits they seem to be modelling.......  ; )

Oh, that was just me again, forgetting that I am not perfect.  Darn it!

Be Careful Where You Put Your "Things"

The kids and I recently visited a friend's house for an overnight stay.  We both have four children and it was a rainy day, so they were working very hard on staying busy and not fighting. 

We finally caved in and put on a movie.  About that time, my friend's oldest daughter, walked over and whispered something into her ear.  While I couldn't hear what she said, I could tell by my friend's face that it was something unexpected.

Some time later, she and I were in her master bedroom setting up a pack n play when her daughter rounds the corner into her room, and heads for the closet.  She was stopped in her tracks and reminded that "Mommy's and Daddy's Room is not the playroom, and there are lots of other places to play, so find somewhere else to go."

Brennan was lurking outside the bedroom door, I believe, awaiting the daughter's return, so we told them both to skedaddle.  After they were well on their way, my friend starts laughing and tells me that earlier, her daughter had asked where the book of "naked exercises" was.  It doesn't take a great leap of imagination to figure out what the book was about.

Apparently, over the years my friend had acquired a book of "365 Sex Positions for 365 Days of the Year".  She'd found it earlier in the week out on the closet floor, open but face down (it had been stowed away in the top drawer of a lingerie chest).  Not a pornographic work, it was more along the lines of "The Joy of Sex" with artful (yet very detailed) illustrations and instruction.  Definitely not for the inquiring minds of a 7 and 9 year old.

We surmised that the girls' curiosity was piqued, so they were sneaking in to explore a little more of the book of "naked exercises."  Unfortunately, their attempt was thwarted by The Moms.

Note to parents:  be careful where you put your things...you never know who might find them - or with whom they might shared!

And All Was Right With the World...

We just returned from our annual sojourn up North.  By North, I mean a 16 hour drive to the sandy shores of Lake Huron in Michigan.  I drove to Pittsburgh with the kids, spent the night with my brother and his family, drove to Cleveland, spent the night with an old friend and her family, then picked up Mark at Cleveland Hopkins Int'l Airport (lucky duck to slide in with only 4 1/2 hours remaining!!) and headed North on US 23.  Phew!  I am exhausted just by recalling that trip (the kids were all very, very good for me in the car though, it must be noted!). 

Northern Michigan is my happy place.  Walking the beaches with my kids looking for Petosky Stones and "sea" glass, snorkeling over the weed bed where we fish to see what species of fish are calling it home each summer, and walking down to Taylor's Motel and Cottages to get an ice cream cone (just as my Dad and his 4 brothers did when they were kids) are just a few of the simple delights that await us each summer. 

And while the sunrises and sunsets make truly magnificent scenery, they are but a backdrop to the memories we create with our family.

My Mom, recalling her conversation with Nora (and the subject of my last post) ordered a butterfly cake and surprised the kids with it.  Nora was absolutely delighted, and gasped, "oh, I've always wanted a butterfly cake!"

Thanks, Mom, you really hit the ball out of the park on that one!  Not to mention the whole crumbled-Doritos-on-honey-nut-cheerios-for-breakfast thing....
(the picture is of my Mom fishing one evening with Brennan, Brady and their cousin Graden in her "favorite" little rowboat...Brady hooked into "Walter" the huge, elusive, Walleye of the Weed bed, but he broke the line before they could get him into the dollar store butterfly net they'd brought on board to help them land their catch...)

My Dad had the kids create their own colored crawler harnesses for walleye fishing (they caught 4 walleye)!  An avid hunter and fisherman, it is important that he pass down his love for outdoor sports.  "Puppa" as the kids call him, is a special person.  He's just got a way with kids that is endearing, unique, and genuine. 

Mark came up with a very realistic map and buried Pirate's Treasure that they "stumbled" upon while scouring the beach with metal detectors.  The kids were all jumping up and down on the beach shouting "we're going to be famous!"

While my sister was not able to join us this year, my brother, his wife and their two children did come.  The kids all enjoyed spending time with their cousins.  Brady in particular, enjoyed having his cousin Graden, as a full time playmate.  He is generally surrounded by girls (AJ apparently doesn't count as a boy yet), so that was a great break for him. 

That beach is one of the few I know of these days, where you can have a beach fire.  While it doesn't get dark in the summer until after 10:30pm, at night, the stars are absolutely magnificent in both number and brightness.  We saw two comets (or perhaps it was trash from the Russian Space Station?) that were the brightest, boldest streaks across a night shy that I've ever seen.  It's was like Bill Cosby's Magic Pen on Picture Pages... 

At night, you can see the camp fires dot the shore as far as you can see.  It's magical.

We are fortunate that my Grandma, or "G.G." (for Great-Grandmother to the kids), is still alive and well.  So much so, that she drives herself to and from East Lansing (her home) and Au Gres (her lake house and about 1/2 walk along the beach from my parents house) throughout the summer.  Did I mention that she'll be 94 this Halloween?  Incredible.  The kids all enjoy her, and Brennan in particular always requests to stop in and visit G.G. when we go for a walk on the beach.  Sharp as a tack, with an Irish wit, she has an endless knowledge of family history and colorful stories of the cast of characters that comprise our family tree.

Hopefully, you all will have the opportunity to take some time this summer and enjoy the simple pleasures in life. 

Slow down, get rid of some of the clutter, minimize the chatter, and make some memories. 

I, for one, recommend Northern Michigan (anywhere), but if you can't get there, any place where you can look up and see the milky way will do.

Lost in the Shuffle

As I was tucking Nora into bed last night, she began her nightly conversation with me in a happy, upbeat mood.  Since Brennan was sleeping over at a friend's house (the two girls share a room), Brady had a friend sleeping over, and AJ was already in bed, Nora and I had a rare opportunity to talk - uninterrupted. 

And talk she did. 

We started off light and easy-breezy...discussing the events of the day (pool and outdoor concert with picnic dinner) and how much fun we had!  Somehow, we veered into planning her 5th birthday party (she just turned 4 in April).  She listed off all of the people who she would like to invite - neighbor friends, dance friends, school friends, siblings of friends, etc. (she is a soft-hearted soul who doesn't like to hurt anyone's feelings, so everyone in a 5 mile radius should be receiving an invitation). 

Then she reminded me that we need to make a butterfly cake for her 5th birthday.  Apparently, I had, at some point months ago, agreed to make her one for her 4th birthday and forgot.  She mentioned this to my Mom a few weeks ago, and was apparently upset by it.  I had no idea.  I thought we were in agreement about the cupcakes for everyone to decorate (her idea) and a candle for everyone to blow out (which was her idea too - again, how sweet is she?).  My Mom even offered to make Nora a butterfly cake.  In her infinite widsom though, Nora replied, "No Grammy, it wouldn't be my real birthday." 

Apparently, we were not in agreement about the whole cupcake thing.  As for the candle for each kid thing, well, that all went fine, except for Nora's hair catching on fire while she was waiting for me to light everyone else's candles...but that's another story.

So there I am, already in the hot seat, and suddenly the conversation takes a turn for the worse.  As we are talking about her school friends, and when can she see them again (pre-school has been over for two weeks now), she starts reminiscing about her year of preschool.  Before I know it, her voice starts to crack and her bottom lip is trembling as she tells me about all of the mommies (or daddies or big brothers and sisters) who came in to read a book to her class.  As she is rattling off the names of all of the kids who have (dutiful, involved) parents, huge, crocodile tears starrt spilling from her big blue eyes, and then she says, "but Mommy, YOU never came into my class and read a book..".sniff, sniff...

Dagger.  Right.  To.  The.  Heart. 

..."and Ava's Mommy AND Daddy came in and read TWO books...and Avery's big brother and big sister and Mommy came in...and nobody from my family ever came in..." 

At this point, Mark hears her sobbing and comes in, thinking something is terribly wrong.  She repeats her lament, in between sobs, and I may be mistaken, but I think I heard Mark's heart fall to the floor. 

Grasping at straws, I apologize profusely and tell her that I (we) love her dearly, and didn't mean to hurt her feelings...I just didn't know about the whole book reading thing.  She replied that "Mommies are just supposed to KNOW these things." 

Now, I am the one about ready to cry.

Trying to make myself feel better, I asked her if there were any other kids whose mommies didn't come in and read.  There was only one, who happens to be a friend of mine, and also happens to have four children.  That was about a nanosecond's worth of comfort. 

Apologizing again, and offering to make sure that we ALL come in to read to her class next year, she settles down with that and the prospect of an extra long snuggle.

As I snuggled in next to her, I promised myself not to let little Nora get lost in the shuffle again.  The details do matter.  Especially to a four year old.

It's That Time of Year Again...

I have this old Nike Ad that I cut out of a magazine sometime in college (let's say 1994-ish) laminated and posted to my bathroom mirror.  This is what it says:

A WOMAN IS OFTEN MEASURED 

BY THE THINGS SHE CANNOT CONTROL.  SHE IS MEASURED BY THE WAY HER BODY CURVES OR DOESN'T CURVE, BY WHERE SHE IS FLAT OR STRAIGHT OR ROUND.  SHE IS MEASURED BY 36-24-36 AND INCHES AND AGES AND NUMBERS, BY ALL THE OUTSIDE THINGS THAT DON'T EVER ADD UP TO WHO SHE IS ON THE INSIDE.  AND SO IF A WOMAN IS TO BE MEASURED, LET HER BE MEASURED BY THE THINGS SHE CAN CONTROL, BY WHO SHE IS AND WHO SHE IS TRYING TO BECOME.  BECAUSE AS EVERY WOMAN KNOWS, MEASUREMENTS ARE ONLY STATISTICS, AND

STATISTICS LIE.

So as we approach That Time of the Year (swimsuit season) I find myself reflecting upon those words yet again, as I stare down the barrel of 37 years and four kids. How can women find peace with their physicality? How do we reconcile all that we have to offer on the inside with what we see on the outside?

A friend once commented that she "didn't want to look good for having three children." She just wanted to look good. Period. Without the qualifier.

I get her point. In essence, they are saying, "you look good, considering...you've gained and (mostly) lost roughly 90 - 100 pounds, had babies hanging off your boobs around the clock for nearly three years (total), and have lost many, many critical hours of beauty sleep while tending to little people in the wee hours of the night.

But a compliment is a compliment, isn't it? Why can't we be okay with the qualifier? It's the reality, right?

It's not just the physical changes of pregnancy and motherhood, but add to that the new wrinkles, varicose veins, age spots, sun spots, and grey hair that is beginning to spring up.

I know I'm getting older, but when did I start to age?

I do hate numbers. Sizes are a joke (while I appreciate retailers new "Glamour-Sizing" letting me now fit into a size that I haven't wore since middle school, I know that it is a farce). I own a scale, but seldom step on it, as I still haven't figured out how I can gain or lose 5 pounds in any given day, and I refuse to let my entire day be clouded simply because I ate too much the night before and the wrong "number" is on the scale. Life is too short for that nonsense.

That's not to say that I have a complete disregard for healthy living. For my own physical health, for mental balance, and for my kids (setting a good example for them and so that I can hopefully be alive and well when they have their own children), I enjoy exercise and try to eat reasonably well. But I find it tedious when people are ruled by either. Not the folks that are in training for a marathon or a triathalon, but those who have little to talk about other than their bodies, other peoples bodies, how much (or how little) they worked out, or how much (or how little) they eat.

I would like to think that there is so much more to me (and you) than what you see on the outside. That I am not one-dimensional. There are many, many other more interesting things to discuss, ponder, marvel or fret over in this world than my stretchmarks or my butt.

Have we been drinking the Kool-Aid too long?


What are we really made of ladies?


Who are we and what are we trying to become?




  

Boys and Boobs

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Truth In Advertising

I reconfirmed the appropriateness of the title of this Blog today.  That is, Teetering on the Edge.

For those of you who (have read this blog at all and still) think that I've got it together here's one for ya.

Mark's home this week, which is good news.  Up until last night, there was a possibility of him being gone at least 2 -3 days.  Since he was in town, and working at home, he was kind enough to let Nora stay home while I went to pick up Brennan and Brady from school.  AJ was in the back seat, munching happily on Sunchips and soaking in another (repeat) episode of Elmo.  It's his crack (Elmo, not the Sunchips, but those might be a distant second).  And I am in complete violation of my no-tv-unless-we're-on-a-road-trip rule since aquiring this Elmo DVD (all of our other Elmo videos are on VHS).

I wait in the carpool line, notice Brennan and Brady exiting the buildings and line up in the queue.  There are five construction cones that act as stations lining the sidewalk for the children to stand and be let into their car.  Deep in thought about my agenda for the afternoon, how I am going to fit a decent nap in for the baby, and also thinking about the family who owns the car ahead of me (and how Brady and her son should really get together again and play soon).  I see that she is starting to pull away, so I pull up, following her car (she was at the last station).  I should be stopping at the first cone, where my children are anxiously waiting for me to end their school day and take them back home for a much anticipated snack.

So deep in thought am I however, that I continue right past my children.  Not only did I not stop, I didn't even notice them standing at the curb.  I made it through the round about, and almost onto the bypass that leads to the highway...and home.  All the while I am thinking, "gosh, I really have to stop playing this Elmo video in the car...even the big kids are so sucked in that they don't even talk..............." 

Well no kidding. 

They weren't talking because:

 a) they were not in the car and
 b) they were slack jaw on the curb having just watched their mother drive right past without so much as a passing glance.

I turn around on the first road I could find, circle back through the round about and park on the street.  Since I just threw AJ in the car without a coat, shoes or socks, I left him, locked in the car and sprinted down the hill and around the corner.  It was only about 42 degrees, and quickly weighing my options, I figured it was better to leave him than to freeze him.  For those of you who are alarmists, it was for a total of 30 seconds, and I could see the car the whole time, so don't go calling CPS.  The kids, still hanging out by their assigned cone see me and are now laughing at me. 

Thankfully they are not upset. 

The teacher that was supposed to help them load into the car is laughing as well.  Hysterically.  Catching her breath, she tells me that the kids were convinced that they saw me drive by to which she responded, "Oh, that couldn't have been your Mother...she didn't stop!"

All I could do was hang my head in shame, laugh and acknowledge that I am a complete and total dingbat and tell the kids to sprint back to the car with me because I had left the baby. 

Teetering on the edge.  Yup, that about sums it up.

Desperately Seeking Madonna

So Brennan, my soon-to-be-9 year old, asked me the other day who Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga, and Britney Spears were.  I was wondering when this was going to come up.  We are fortunate enough to have XM in our truck (my Mom taxi) and per the kids request, we almost always have "Kids Place Live" on.  It's a great station with lots of kid indie rock (think Michael Buble doing "Spiderman" or the Bare Naked Ladies singing the "Crazy ABCs").  So, recalling my early love of music - the GoGo's, Joan Jett, and Madonna - I sat down with her and downloaded a bunch of songs from itunes. 

Little did I know that she'd be putting Britney's "3" on replay so she can figure out what all the lyrics are. 

I can now completely empathize with my own Mom, as I recall her pause, (and cringe) when I asked her what Madonna was saying in "Like A Virgin." Who knew that Madonna would someday be considered tame by comparison?

In case you aren't familiar, "3" is song with a great beat and catchy chorus, but unfortunately for us parents out there, is all about having a threesome.  I'm thinkin' that it's not the kind of threesome you inadvertantly get caught up in on the dance floor either (sandwiched by two incredibly creepy, greasy, and short men). 

Not that you really want to have to explain what any type of threesome is to you children.

I have tried my best, and mostly successfully, to give her lots of suggestions on what the words might be, and make sure that none of them are PG or R rated.  I also told her that songwriters frequently write lyrics just to make them rhyme or sound good in a song, and that the lyrics don't always make sense.  She bought it.

Then, before bedtime tonight, we are having a little "Family Time" and Brennan, excited to be playing her new music for all of us, is cranking out the tunes.  Fortunately, she skips right past "3" after announcing to me that she's figured out all the words. 

Thankfully, they are all wrong and make absolutely no sense. 

As I was breathing a sigh of relief about her botching of "3s" lyrics, I began plotting how and when to retrieve her ipod shuffle and delete the song. Just then, she proceeds to play a fun little ditty, also by Britney Spears, called "If You Seek Amy."  Now, I had listened to the little soundbyte on itunes, and thought it was harmless enough...only to see Mark's eyes about fall out of his head as he hears it, and asks me, "what the hell is that doing on her ipod????"

Clearly the song must have come out while I was in some sort of post-pregnancy (which pregnancy I am not sure) hibernation.  I had NO idea that there was any sort of (not-so-hidden) meaning in the song.  Mark proceeds to explain the brou-ha-ha that surrounded the release of the song and exactly what "If You Seek Amy" really means......

If = F
You = U
Seek =  C
Amy = well, you can pretty much figure the rest of it out on your own. 
Completely appalled at my own ignorance, I am now apparantly so completely out of touch and un-hip that I am letting my 8 year old listen to the pop music equivelent of soft porn.  And I thought being called a cougar was embarassing.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go find that ipod.  I have some deleting to do...

Just Because You Can...

Doesn't mean you should.

I wrestled with that a lot around Christmas. Even more so as the effects of the economic crisis loom large and the profound poverty and despair that has been exposed in Haiti since the earthquake last week. As I listened to my own kids and their friends, I just couldn't get over the insanity of the annual Christmas lists. I-phones, ipods, cell phones, Nintendo DS or DSi (I still don't know the difference), Barbie Townhouse (if that sounds innocuous, it comes with a $170 price tag) or the Barbie Glamour Camper for a mere $75. I heard of a Mom lamenting she had gotten her 14 year old daughter a nicer phone than she had. Seriously?

Let me be candid, my kids don't want for anything. Sure, there may be lots of things that that want, but their basic needs of shelter, food, and clothing are more than covered. And that doesn't even touch on the plethora of Webkinz, Wii games, American Girl Dolls, Littlest Pet Shop, MP3 players, etc. that they own.

Just because you can...

I am not trying to be holier than thou here. We have provided lots of niceties for our kids. We are blessed in many ways, we can provide for our kids well over and beyond the necessities. I'd like to think that we try to keep in reined in, but it's all a matter of perspective.

Doesn't mean you should.

While it would be fun, really fun, to get them the latest cool toy or the cutest outfit from Mini Boden or CrewCuts, sign them up for each new activity they express an interest in, what does that teach them? If I start introducing and placing value on labels or brands at age 7 or 8, where will that put me (us) at 16 or 17? If I give in to the ipod now, will I be that Mom who is whining about her daughter having a better phone than I do in 10 years? If I sign them up with each whim, will they learn how to persevere in a difficult comittment?

What kind of adults am I trying to create as I raise my kids?

It's no wonder kids today have such a prolific sense of entitlement and lack self-discipline. We give them everything without asking (much of) anything.

The last time I checked, that's not how life works. At least not as an adult.

A friend sent me an article citing a study from the 1960's about children and marshmallows. If you have a minute, read it. It's well worth your time, and it's brief.

http://www.msgen.com/downloads/Marshmallow.pdf

The upshot is that if a four year old could wait a few minutes for an extra marshmallow, this restraint translated into better marriages, better paying-jobs, and having higher levels of career satisfaction later on in life. And as parents, when we say "no" to our kids requests for the latest and greatest thing or demand, we are helping them prepare for life as an adult. The results demonstrate that teaching children how to wait, how to delay gratification and the art of self-discipline, are skills every bit as valuable as teaching them how to read or write.

Cool. Now I have scientific back up for when I am the Mean Mom who "always" says "NO".

Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. Something to think about.