...when in doubt, know your assets!

The rare and fun-filled world of parenting is often a topic that I write about. Some days you are "killing IT" and some days you are "being KILLED." It is not only a metaphoric tight-rope, but a very real one to walk. You are up there, high above the ground below, trying not to stare into the abyss and all the while you have a wedgie, full knowing the world can see the better part of your left butt cheek. Try as you may, you face each day with some far fledged positive mantra, hoping at least by 5 p.m. there is some semblance of said mantra in existence and possibly you have a cocktail in your hand. It's living the dream, despite it's affinity to a nightmare.

There is a word, French in origin, rapprochement. It sounds fancy when properly pronounced but it basically means, an establishment or reestablishment of harmonious relations. THIS IS MY LIFE, at least from 6:30 a.m. to 8 p.m. Try as I may, my abilities to speak French, have been lacking. I have uttered no less than 6 times in the last few weeks the unvirtuous, unrestrained and unmannerly phrase of, "...opinions are like butt holes, everyone has them, but no one wants to see them unless asked." Poet laureate of Washington Street that I am, no truer words could be spoken in this house. Not all opinions need to be voiced, not all decisions need to be questioned and not all thoughts need to be spoken. Especially, if it has absolutely nothing to do with you. I was unaware that I would be given a job evaluation daily when I started having kids. Unaware that my parenting decisions could/would be questioned on a daily basis. Did I miss that in the weekly memo? Is my union aware of this? Oh wait, it's a union of one, and the scrimmage of teenager vs. parent.

I was reminded of all of the above and did some reciprocal reminding first thing this week. My ever-opinionated-teenager (EOT) told me that I never listen to his opinion. I sort of shook my head in disbelief. He recanted and said, "Well, the only time you have is that one time when I was agreeing with you." I asked him, have I ever asked you for your opinion? Yes, yes I have. He kind of looked at me and then rolled his eyes. I then went on to explain that yes, everyone is entitled to their opinion. However, when they are expressed as judgements and criticisms, that opinion is never appreciated or required to be said. Those same judgements and criticisms made not only trip my freak trigger, enlarge the vein in my neck, turn my eyes yellow but also show the rest of the people in this house that disrespect is tolerated. Clean underwear, brushed teeth, a nice veggie tray, a rousing game of Uno, your favorite meal and dare I say a compliment? These things are not only tolerated but welcomed dearest EOT. They are the things that will get you further in life that stating your opinion. This isn't the end of the scrimmage, merely round one. I ended my conversation with my EOT, noting that one day I will have a house full of card-carrying EOTs, and while that was frightening, I was mentally training for it.

I'm dating myself with this reference, but it is the only one that comes to mind. My life, at times, is like the movie Speed. As long as you keep the bus moving at 55 miles per hour, no lives will be spared. But, Keanu Reeves, try keeping four of your offspring perpetually happy all at the same time...impossible. Someone's wants and needs are never going to be fully met, least of which my own. I would think by now I've efficiently educated my children on this concept, but alas I wasn't clear enough in my execution. I've decided, that's crap, dammit, I'M FREAKING HAPPY!! I'm the happiest I've been in years. So I'm laying down a declaration: If you want to be happy, it's on you...your attitude, your respectfulness, your willingness to help yourself and the capability to do all of the above and leave no one slain in your wake. I realize I'm spelling this out in a rather dramatic way, but hell hath no fury like a mother who is reminded of her less than worth, when she just folded your damned underwear. I realize, not every day can be perfect. BUT slap a smile on that face, keep your opinions to yourself, chant that mantra and be proud of that left butt cheek the world may be seeing, it's your best asset!

"...am I getting paid for this?"

In an effort to understand, survive and coexist with the burgeoning teenagers in my house, I have begun making a list. Some of the things that cannot be placed on this list are facial expressions, eye twitches that are definitely voluntary and the utter lack of a human mute button. The things my teenagers say are so plentiful, I know I must block some of them out just as a survival mechanism. The following are just a few gems I have heard this week. If you are a parent of a teenager, good luck, God's speed and try to stay out of the liquor cabinet.

 

 

 

The things that teenagers say...Volume I

 

"...it is against the law to want to mentally throw me out of the car."

 

"...I don't need to wear my retainers, the orthodontist was wrong."

 

"...I can't be expected to use the same towel two days in a row, anyway, what's the big deal?" (Upon me seeing six towels on the bathroom floor)

 

"...what is the big deal with picking that up for me?"

 

"...my opinions on parenting matter."

 

"...am I getting paid for this?"

 

"...why can't I have something else for dinner?"

 

"...it is an invasion of my privacy to look at my phone."

 

"...I am never moving, and you should think about that if you decide to."

 

"...I'm just helping him get to the next level." (While grounded from his iPad and on his brother's)

 

"...you can't expect me to remember to (insert common hygiene action here) on my own"

 

"...you might have been in eighth grade, but it's different now."

 

"...I need special toothpaste."

 

"...you told me what I couldn't eat, you didn't tell me what I could"

 

"...my chore list is old, I thought I was only supposed to do that for two weeks"

 

"...clearly, that teacher has it in for me, she expects me to work harder than the rest of the class"

 

"...what's the big deal?" (Possibly the worst/most used expression from his age group)

 

"...but why?" (Second worst/most used expression from his age group)

 

"...are you going to wear that?" (While he's wearing 3 different patterns and has his socks pull up)

 

"...but I'm getting gum, why do I have to brush my teeth?"

 

"...it's fine." (When asked a specific question)

 

 

I know I'm only scraping the surface with these...please feel free to add to this list as necessary. Good luck!

...over a dirty martini and a veggie tray

Some games you play, some you endure. Some have lavish hand gestures or overly complicated rules, and for the sake of your sanity you just end up making up the rules as you go. Life lesson there? Not really, but you shouldn't want to drink from a liquor bottle with a straw for some family game time, right? Well, maybe don't answer that right away. We have a lot of games in this house, physical and mental. With the physical everyone is eager at first, but usually only a handful want to take the time together and play. Then there is always that forever optimist who believes winning isn't everything...but damn, it feels good to rub it in your brother's faces when you do. Life lesson there? A very large one, but there are times in life when it is kill or be killed- the lesson is in knowing the difference.

The mental games are just the normal tug of the-fighting-for-independence-rope...when usually both parties would be eternally better off just keeping their mouth shut and nodding. I'm fully aware that you have an opinion, you are of course related to me, but I do not really need/require/yearn to hear it at 7:09 a.m., or let's face it anytime unless asked. I realize that your opinions matter, but loudly declaring them doesn't make them any more or less necessary, and that goes for myself and my offspring. The mental game is primarily that of: I am your mother. You came from me because I remember the day fairly vividly. My job is to take care of you, keep you out of jail, not injured, fed and clothed. When you are an adult, this mental game will hopefully end and you can screw your life up anyway you see fit. That is my gift to you, it's just going to take about 5-15 years until you get to open such a splendidly wrapped present. The lapses in judgement, they are all yours to own, be it in an orange jumpsuit or in a 3 piece suit. All I ask, is that you do not make them under my watch because not only does it make life tougher, but you will finally see that vein on my neck blow. My goal is to get those I brought into this world to learn to play the game by the rules, endure the mental games and be understanding when they chose not to...such things are not clearly written in the rule booklet.

This game we play...This game we endure, called life, is sometimes played dirty, sometimes gives you bragging rights and sometimes needs to not be overthought. This game, much like the Laverne and Shirley Game, basically goes on and on until you learn why you were put on this earth in the first place. Being a mother/woman/friend/human it is hard to relate some things to your kids. The old phrase, "learning the hard way..." comes to mind. You've seen the scenery, but you really wouldn't recommend it. I've made some bad choices, some obvious lapses in judgement. On the other hand I've made some great choices and taken some great risks in the quest for enlightenment and happiness, sometimes out of necessity and sometimes with the knowledge that I'm worth it. Life lesson there? Heck yes! It was individual and it was on my own terms. At the end of my game, it's going to be up to the Lord and I to sort all of that out. If it is anything line I imagine, I'm figuring over a dirty martini and a veggie tray.

The Halloween Conundrum

It is only September 20. It's not even officially autumn yet, I know. But things around here start to look like autumn, well, about the day after Labor Day. It is a crisp (hopefully) season that brings to mind the retirement of swimsuits and the resurgence of sweaters, jeans, warm wooly blankets and beautiful color. I mean really, it is the only time of year when people like the color orange. It's pumpkin patches, hot cider, It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown and less daylight...basically, the best time of the freaking year. For most people, it is the time when kids start to talk about Halloween costumes.

For us? It starts about January. Some take that long to afford, some take that long to make and others have to be talked down from being something no one will understand the motivation. "Yes, Nora. Being a female Indiana Jones is important and exciting, but unless someone is also following you around with the theme music, I'm thinking no one will understand it." She likes to think way outside of the box. Usually, Oscar has some grandiose costume that outside of a professional theater department no one could really replicate. Atticus usually choses some super hero to represent and I spend the night watching him fall down as the costume is ill fitting. Abe? Well, he honestly, and I swear I'm not choosing favorites, has the best costumes.

It isn't because he is overthinks them. It isn't because he's slight and can fit into anything. He keeps it simple and seriously nails the entire character. One year he wanted to be Superman, and I was for some reason feeling like I needed to make the costume. He committed to the character, he wore navy tights and bright red girls bloomer shorts that I bought at a flea market. Before we left the house, he was 2 years old mind you, he had to fix his hair as to have the perfect Superman curl on his forehead. Since then, the costumes have become easier, but he takes usually something we have lying around the house and turns it into a recognizable costume. So secretly, as noting it aloud would be like I'm living out Sophie's Choice around here, I eagerly wait to see what Abe will chose to be for Halloween.

This year however, we might have it a Halloween conundrum...the kind that I feared would happen eventually. After weeks of people telling me what they are going to be, some I understood, some I did not, Abe declared that he was probably going to stay home. While I thought  to myself, I guess he could pass out candy- I quickly shuttered. I'm sorry, I misunderstood. What? WHAT? I thought to myself, he is only in the sixth grade? He can't be giving up yet? Sure, Oscar should probably not trick-or-treat this year as he is a giant with a ridiculously low voice, I'm not trying to give little old ladies heart attacks. But Abe? This is the last bastion of his youth, in a non creepy way. This is the last year he won't be looked at as a hooligan. This is the time when he still needs to be a kid.

As many topics of the hot-button-variety in this house, I flippantly let it go. My hope is that for a minute he wanted to hear himself act "grown-up" and eventually he'll come to his senses. He could actually hold the record for the most houses visited in the shortest amount of time and I can't imagine he could resist the candy. The fact of the matter is, if he decides to give up Halloween, I guess that is his decision. It's a part of life, I have to let them grow. While I'm grateful for the air to get crisp, watching your red bloomered boy grow up, might require some grown-up cider.

...just finished my shift at San Quinten

Kids misbehave, it is a part of life. It is how they learn boundaries, sense of self and right from wrong. Sounds like a load of crap, I know, but it is what it is. I remember when I didn't have to play both good and bad cop, I was a lot stricter when it came to the rules. I was like a drill sergeant, and while it probably looked like I just finished my shift at San Quintin, everyone was more or less well behaved. And then I became outnumbered...

But, as time pressed on I was sick of being a witch all the time, so I learned not to "choose my battles." I loathe that phrase. It basically means, sorry, while you know you are right, your child will be allowed to act like an ass-hat on this occasion. I'm not having that. I moreover just used avoidance and deaf ear, knowing that they knew they were acting like ass-hats, why should I have to remind them? From time to time, I would have to walk into my room alone and do a routine of silent obscenities and rude hand gestures, get it out of my system and start over. It was a system that worked for a while, but with age should come wisdom, and when that doesn't happen, the bulldog comes out of me.

As my kids get older, the things that they are into of course have changed. Any honest, like brutally honest mother, should admit that technology sometimes is a double edge sword. While you know it might be rotting your precious offspring's brain, isn't it quiet? Isn't it a nearly-spa-like-setting-quiet when kids are engaged on an electronic device? At times you just need some damned peace and quiet that board games and kids playing outside just cannot compare to. So, it builds-your dependence and theirs on this form of entertainment. But, like I said, as my kids get older, this form of entertainment has also become public enemy number one when it comes to punishments. If you are old enough to be on said devices, you are old enough to do what you are told...until you don't.

So, a few things happen, things are said and jobs are ignored, I let it slide. Meanwhile, the internal powder keg brewing a special concoction of dealing with adolescence and old lady hormones. And then it blows! The normal punishments just seem mundane, it's time to go all in in this poker game. Hell hath no fury like a kid that gets pulled off electronics here. I can only equate it to possibly getting put in solitary confinement as my kids portray it. Is it really that bad? No. Is it really more of a punishment for me? Yes. Is it really apparent that this punishment cuts them off at the knees? OH YES, and that is why I continue it.

It's like watching a sociological experiment, like I'm watching PBS in my house. The first day, they sort of walk around aimlessly, as if they don't know what to do with their hands. It's like watching someone come down off drugs, confused/angry/erratic. I give them a list of busy work to occupy their time if they choose and they just look at me, dumbfounded. The second day, still not knowing what to do with their hands, seems to bring on some emotion with it. I hear people complaining of "looking" at each other. People start infighting for really inconsequential situations. While I know this isn't killing them, I also pray they are actually learning a lesson. Cut to me, chuckling from the laundry room as I hear the noise of kids actually arguing about where they are putting their legs on the couch. It's as if all of their senses are now heightened, and it's hilarious. They make it to school, only twitching a little

The real problem wherein lies with the fact that half of my precious offspring are as tall as I am. There is nothing thing worse than losing viable credibility when you have to look up at someone while you are having an argument. Where are the articles on parenting to giants but still feeling like the adult? Oh yeah, I haven't written them yet. So, the saga continues. While I now work a different shift at San Quinten, my job title has been slightly altered but I am still within the same pay grade. Misbehaving won't get you out in 5 to 10 on good behavior, but it will have your electronics snatched for an unspoken amount of time...have a great weekend.

...coincidence met fate

In a million years, I never figured this is where life would take me.

While this notion is pretty much true for every reader, the concept of actually realizing it could either be gleaned in a joyous or sorrowful way. I talk about life a lot...life with kids, life as a single parent, life not being always kind and finding the silver linings in life. Sometimes, the words just spill right out of my brain and onto my laptop, the good, bad and ugly. Sometimes, and this is when I know things become really personal, it is more difficult to get it out into words. That is when I know I'm really feeling something.

You meet people every day of your life. Be it someone who comes into your work, someone in a waiting room, someone at the checkout line at the grocery store. While your interaction may not be that of a Hallmark movie, for a brief moment in time, you share a common space with a stranger. Sometimes there are words or sometimes there are just glances. I have a special aura that strangers must see, sometimes I walk away and wonder, "Why did I need to know that you are moving to Colorado? Why do I feel bad that you cannot eat dairy? Why am I constantly being talked to by Jehovah's Witnesses, am I wearing a sign?" But I digress, sometimes without even knowing it you meet someone for a distinct purpose, it isn't coincidence, it is fate nudging you and you don't even know it.

All of us have those special people in their lives...the ones who understand your jokes, can make you see the best in yourself and have seen you at your worst and love you despite the afore mentioned. These people you meet, who for whatever reason that meeting, that chance encounter, is etched on your brain forever. Their possible fleeting presence in your life happened. Maybe they were inspirational?  Maybe they were thought provoking? Maybe they were annoying? Maybe just seeing them made you lose your breath for a minute and left an overly verbal person speechless? You can go back, years later and remember that moment, place or day when coincidence met fate and changed your life forever. The most important lesson from these people is recognizing you have them, cherishing them and never letting them go...and I'm lucky enough to get to do that.

My day to day has changed since I began writing, and it has completely changed since I started writing this blog. I used it as therapy, comic relief and a chance to document all of the crazy things that not only go on in my head, but even the crazier things that go on in this "THUNDERDOME HOUSE." Sometimes writing it down took it off my heart/head and helped me move on to the next quarter-life-crisis of parenting. The melt-downs over bathing. The debates on independence when someone can't even be mindful of brushing their teeth (I'm not sure when the last time a few of mine have actually brushed). The push and pull of adolescence and playing good cop/bad cop. The notion that while I might not die alone, as I know at least one of my kids will never move out-they've got it too good, the real fear of never finding an adult to complete, compliment, inspire, love and feel appreciated again. At least one of these is the underlying fear in all of us in some way, shape or form. I am lucky, as I mentioned, because I have found some of these things in friends some of which I know fate was the only way we would have ever met, so thank you. I only hope I can emulate what to you what you do for me.

But, unknowingly, something important happened three years ago. I met this person, and all of the things you hope to feel, I felt. All of the chance encounters as they were, made me feel giddy, grin and wanting to know more about this person...but it was just chance, right? Turns out, three years later, I found out that person felt the exact same things about me. Never knowing when we would bump into each other, a friendship was there but nothing really else until one night when we got to talking. All of the sudden, I realized this concatenation, these chance meetings were "our" moment when fate met coincidence.

As time progressed, we discovered that we were more alike than anyone else we knew. We liked the same things, felt the same way about topics, and didn't want to kill each other over discussions of religion, politics, traveling, music, cooking and parenting. This person, while I've known him for years, I didn't know how much we had to share with each other. I suddenly felt like, "In a million years, I would never have thought that life would take me here...and I'm so grateful that it did." Three weeks ago today, this man who still makes me giddy, grin and most importantly love, proposed at our favorite restaurant and in our favorite seat. His eyes twinkled, and while they do quite regularly, I will never forget how they did that night. I couldn't wait to say yes to him, and yes to what most definitely is the grandest example of what happens when coincidence met fate... thank you HJR, 107 days and I cannot wait!

Freedom Choreography

Strange. My overly verbal mind can only come up with ONE WORD...really? It is strange to be alone, for real, for the first time in 5 years. I've dreamed of this day. I've pensively cherished this day. I've mentally choreographed dance moves to this day, and all I can come up with is one word, strange. This day, this time has always seemed sort of elusive to me, like anticipating a solar eclipse-CRAP wait, that's happening next!

Anyway, this morning has been something along the lines of surreal- The laundry is caught up, the dishes are in the dishwasher, he's worked HARD all summer long! I say "he" like a boat is supposed to be called "she" because that dishwasher has worked as hard as a spouse on Mother's Day for the last 3+ months. HE is grateful that the kids are back in school, and occupying "his" time probably chatting up the refrigerator, as "she" has been opened no less than 164 times a day over the summer. Don't even try to talk to the washer and dryer, the happy couple has already left for their well-deserved spa day, as most of my kids changed their wardrobe like they were on tour with Beyoncé over the summer, 50 cities-83 shows-NO JOKE...I never knew they had this many clothes and changed their underwear so little.

Flushed with independence this morning, I'm still stunted. I filled out the MOUND of back-to-school paperwork, signed my name enough times that it is nearly illegible and still know I have one more kid's paperwork to muddle through. I found myself wondering, what now? Do I write? drink? take a nap? For the first time in what seems like forever, the world is my oyster and I don't know whether to scratch my watch or wind my butt. Ululating like a wild dog seems a little extreme, but I imagine today would be the only day where I could completely get away with it. But I am charting peculiar waters, and I have found myself shaking my head in utter disbelief, as the silence is so thrilling and newfangled all at the same time. My mental to-do list resembles something like a scroll, there are projects, closets to clean, things that you can only throw out when your kids aren't there to lament and secret unoccupied mom WOMAN time that will be dooly accomplished. But today...I'm starting slow. I go at everything with a game plan, a mental goal more than anything. I know how this afternoon will be with the kids get out early. I've made promises for popcorn, and hopefully if it isn't raining a play-date with the neighbors.

While I come correct- but I didn't expect to see that look in my youngest eyes this morning. The others took off and went into school or lined up with their friends. I sort of stopped him from doing this because I "thought" he would want me to walk him in...Turns out? Yeah, I think that was mainly for me. Thus, I walked him in, dropped off his lunch box, gave him a quick hug (no pictures-that's how secretly wrought I was at the time) and he walked off to the gymnasium.  I looked back one last time, horrible move on my part, took one last look at his face as he walked behind me, and I had hoped it wasn't as if I was looking into a mirror.

Slightly frightened, slightly exhilarated, slightly constipated, he turned left and I turned right and walked out the door. It was a moment that I probably will never forget, that moment when you know "that phase" is over. He's moved onward, he's ready, he's eager and he needs to learn from someone else, grateful that it is someone (not a sibling) who isn't bent on teaching him fart jokes like he has learned all summer, but I digress. Even three hours later, it still sort of takes my breath away. We've crossed a threshold, a milestone and a turning point onto the next phase of Atticus J Hunt's life. . .and really mine as well. Here is to all the parents doing this either for the first time or/and the last time, let me know if you need any "freedom choreography," it's fairly simple step work and no doubt will be perfected in years to come. Happy first day of school and first day to the rest of your life!