My Q&A with Andi is up at DotMoms today, if you'd like to go check it out.
Also, as an aside, see that ad over there on the sidebar? The one that says "Easier than childbirth"? Are they trying to say that their product is easy to use? Cause, if so, "easier than childbirth," is not saying much. I mean, isn't almost everything easier than childbirth?
Maybe it's just me ...
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Monday, May 29, 2006
Why I Hate Kid’s Birthday Parties
I realize this makes me sound like a fuddy-duddy, but I hate kid’s birthday parties. In particular, I hate them when the guest of honor is my offspring, and when many children not related to me attend, along with parents I don’t know very well.
Hate.
Even though I end up having fun and look back on the event with humor, being the organizer and host of these parties falls outside my comfort zone (*cough* Understatement! *cough*).
My thoughts on this are, “Am I that much of a sociophobe? Am I unable to take joy in our culture’s childhood rituals?” Looks like yes, and yes.
Having People Over
As organizer and host of a multichild, multifamily children’s birthday extravaganza, the potential for disaster looms large. My first issue is Having People Over. My reasons include:
• The pressure of ensuring the safety of so many children bustling about in a small area. I haven’t had any disasters yet, just one bat swung into the birthday boy’s temple. What did I expect? It was a baseball party.
• The dust and clutter that lines every surface of my home.
• Our toilets, which stay clean for 3 minutes, tops.
• The squares my husband cut out of our family room rug where the cat threw up. (“I’m ripping it out anyway!” he claims.)
• The 15-year-old cat who won’t cover her poop so that our basement playroom always smells.
I decided to recognize the carpet scarred by cat vomit for what it was: An excuse to have Ben’s party somewhere else. I found the perfect venue, a gym class party run by the town’s recreation department. It would be stress free (For me!), affordable (More so than a new floor!), and not here (thank you, God!). I would have been home free, except for ...
Evil Modern Traditions: The Kid’s Birthday Party Theme
“I have the best idea for a theme for your birthday party!” Smiling wide, I motioned Ben to come over. “Want to hear it?”
“Sure.”
“O.K.” I whispered. “The theme will be ... Happy Birthday! We’ll get a table cloth with balloons on it, I’ll bake a chocolate cake and decorate it with gumdrops ...”
Ben has mastered the eye roll. His eyes gleam like cue balls as he furrows his brow. “Batman, Mama,” he told me, through gritted teeth.
Who started the Evil Modern Tradition of having themes for kids' birthday parties? Why do paper plate companies suddenly make so much crap? Why do we buy it?
So far we’ve done generic baby’s first birthday, Barney, Elmo, construction vehicles, baseball, dinosaurs/knights (a dual-themed year, *shudder*), and, most recently, Spider Man. For some people, I know, a theme is great jumping off point for a wellspring of creativity and fun. And I try, I really do. But Ben caught me looking at a homemade Darth Vader cake online and informed me that he would "hate" me if I made the cake instead of buying one at the store. So I bought him one, even though I have not the money nor the desire to spend $20 for a cake just because it has a piece of plastic crap on it.
The whole theme concept sucks donkey tails.
Overpriced, Spray-Painted Cake
Requisite Major Party Complication
Ben couldn’t decide between Batman, Star Wars or Power Rangers, the latter “because Sean likes Power Rangers.”
Meet Sean, our requisite major party complication. Since September, Ben has had eyes only for Sean: “He makes silly faces!" "We play Power Rangers and Star Wars on the playground!” “When can he come over?”
When indeed. I approached Sean’s mom at pick-up twice in the fall, to tell her that Ben loved her son and we should get them together if Sean’s interested. We never connected, but she was pregnant and gave birth in February, so I chalked it up to that. But when Ben told me more than once that he spent his day, “following Sean around,” I feared that Sean spent most of his time trying to get away from Ben.
In the spring, I pulled out the class list and called Sean’s number: no longer in service. I saw Sean’s grandmother at pick-up and asked her to have his mom give me a call. I told her who I was and said, “If I don’t have Sean over for a play date soon, Ben will disown me.”
She laughed, “All I hear all day long is ‘Ben this,’ ‘Ben that.’”
Sean likes Ben, too! I felt so relieved, and I had five weeks to make sure he came to Ben’s party.
Two weeks before the party, I still hadn’t heard from Sean’s mom. I mailed the invitations and waited. The day before the RSVP date, I sent an email to Ben’s teacher to see if she has a different number for Sean, but she didn’t. The RSVP date came and went. The day before Ben’s party, I again approached his grandmother at pick-up.
She explained that they had fallen victim to the recent flood, and had spent the last week ripping out floors and purchasing new furniture. Relieved again, this time that his mom had a valid reason for blowing me off, I was happier still when she called that afternoon, just 24 hours before Ben’s party, to confirm that he’d be there.
Phew! Major Party Complication resolved, just in time for ...
Treat Bag Hell
The night before the party, I showed Brian the items I bought to fill the treat bags: Star Wars tattoos and cardboard Darth Vader masks. We both agreed the masks were crap, and he thought the tattoos looked too “Harley Davidson.” I also noticed I’d been charged $2.99 for a single sheet of five tattoos. Those bastards!
So I found myself, on the morning of Ben’s party, back at the party store, searching for toys for the treat bags. I settled on foam Batman planes and Darth Vader stickers, and I picked up a Star Wars table cloth, two Darth Vader balloons and some chocolate. Somehow, I spent an additional $30.
I had just 20 minutes to pick up the overpriced Star Wars-crap-adorned cake and get to John’s preschool for pick-up, then I had to race home, assemble treat bags and get everything into the car for the party. So much for stress-free.
The Requisite Mishaps and Forgotten Items
The party got off to a smooth start. I arrived and spread out the $4 Star Wars tablecloth only to realize that the Star Wars images hung at the sides where the chairs blocked them. All you could see was the yellow on top, with the balloons from the gym’s tablecloth showing through from underneath. Balloons. How fitting.
The teacher told me that 45 minutes into the party, I'd have to serve the cake and ice cream. With 5 minutes to spare, I had the table set, complete with drinks and Hoodsies. Then Brian said, “Kris, I can’t find the candles,” just as 15 children spun around and raced toward me screaming “Caaaake!! Yaaay!!”
Of course he couldn't find the candles. I hadn't brought any.
As Brian and the teacher looked for candles in the kitchen, the kids urged me to move the Star Wars cake in front of Ben. When I went to put the cake down, I realized the cardboard it sat on and the plastic platter below that were two separate entities, separated perhaps by a thin layer of vegetable shortening for added slippage. The cake shot off the platter and, fortunately, into my chest. My heart started pumping again just a few minutes later.
Cake-less Children; Star Wars-less Tablecloth
Brian emerged from the kitchen with two full-size white candlesticks.
“Light sabers,” my neighbor noted.
“All part of my plan,” I smiled, wiping at the blue line of frosting that ran across my chest.
“Keeping It Simple”
As for presents, I start all my birthday party planning efforts with the same mindset I have at Christmas: keep it simple. This year, I kept it so simple that, at the end of the party, we loaded enough birthday presents for three children into our van, then drove home and to give our son, yes, even more presents.
At least we weren’t stupid enough to give him another cake, although in hindsight, Ben in a sugar-induced coma is easier to deal with than Ben the Spoiled Hell Child. He wouldn’t let John touch a single one of his new toys and yet, stunningly, tried to take John’s “little brother gift” away from him, again and again and again.
John in his coveted Spider Man costume. The gloves make noises when they hit something.
At one point Ben got so mad at John that he screeched, “Frickin’ dude!”
I looked into my six-year-old’s face -- eyes wide and bloodshot, cheeks flushed, mouth agape and panting -- and said, “Hey Brian! Let’s give Ben our gifts now!”
Happy Birthday, sweetie. I hope you had fun (because we won't be doing this again anytime soon).
Hate.
Even though I end up having fun and look back on the event with humor, being the organizer and host of these parties falls outside my comfort zone (*cough* Understatement! *cough*).
My thoughts on this are, “Am I that much of a sociophobe? Am I unable to take joy in our culture’s childhood rituals?” Looks like yes, and yes.
Having People Over
As organizer and host of a multichild, multifamily children’s birthday extravaganza, the potential for disaster looms large. My first issue is Having People Over. My reasons include:
• The pressure of ensuring the safety of so many children bustling about in a small area. I haven’t had any disasters yet, just one bat swung into the birthday boy’s temple. What did I expect? It was a baseball party.
• The dust and clutter that lines every surface of my home.
• Our toilets, which stay clean for 3 minutes, tops.
• The squares my husband cut out of our family room rug where the cat threw up. (“I’m ripping it out anyway!” he claims.)
• The 15-year-old cat who won’t cover her poop so that our basement playroom always smells.
I decided to recognize the carpet scarred by cat vomit for what it was: An excuse to have Ben’s party somewhere else. I found the perfect venue, a gym class party run by the town’s recreation department. It would be stress free (For me!), affordable (More so than a new floor!), and not here (thank you, God!). I would have been home free, except for ...
Evil Modern Traditions: The Kid’s Birthday Party Theme
“I have the best idea for a theme for your birthday party!” Smiling wide, I motioned Ben to come over. “Want to hear it?”
“Sure.”
“O.K.” I whispered. “The theme will be ... Happy Birthday! We’ll get a table cloth with balloons on it, I’ll bake a chocolate cake and decorate it with gumdrops ...”
Ben has mastered the eye roll. His eyes gleam like cue balls as he furrows his brow. “Batman, Mama,” he told me, through gritted teeth.
Who started the Evil Modern Tradition of having themes for kids' birthday parties? Why do paper plate companies suddenly make so much crap? Why do we buy it?
So far we’ve done generic baby’s first birthday, Barney, Elmo, construction vehicles, baseball, dinosaurs/knights (a dual-themed year, *shudder*), and, most recently, Spider Man. For some people, I know, a theme is great jumping off point for a wellspring of creativity and fun. And I try, I really do. But Ben caught me looking at a homemade Darth Vader cake online and informed me that he would "hate" me if I made the cake instead of buying one at the store. So I bought him one, even though I have not the money nor the desire to spend $20 for a cake just because it has a piece of plastic crap on it.
The whole theme concept sucks donkey tails.
Overpriced, Spray-Painted Cake
Requisite Major Party Complication
Ben couldn’t decide between Batman, Star Wars or Power Rangers, the latter “because Sean likes Power Rangers.”
Meet Sean, our requisite major party complication. Since September, Ben has had eyes only for Sean: “He makes silly faces!" "We play Power Rangers and Star Wars on the playground!” “When can he come over?”
When indeed. I approached Sean’s mom at pick-up twice in the fall, to tell her that Ben loved her son and we should get them together if Sean’s interested. We never connected, but she was pregnant and gave birth in February, so I chalked it up to that. But when Ben told me more than once that he spent his day, “following Sean around,” I feared that Sean spent most of his time trying to get away from Ben.
In the spring, I pulled out the class list and called Sean’s number: no longer in service. I saw Sean’s grandmother at pick-up and asked her to have his mom give me a call. I told her who I was and said, “If I don’t have Sean over for a play date soon, Ben will disown me.”
She laughed, “All I hear all day long is ‘Ben this,’ ‘Ben that.’”
Sean likes Ben, too! I felt so relieved, and I had five weeks to make sure he came to Ben’s party.
Two weeks before the party, I still hadn’t heard from Sean’s mom. I mailed the invitations and waited. The day before the RSVP date, I sent an email to Ben’s teacher to see if she has a different number for Sean, but she didn’t. The RSVP date came and went. The day before Ben’s party, I again approached his grandmother at pick-up.
She explained that they had fallen victim to the recent flood, and had spent the last week ripping out floors and purchasing new furniture. Relieved again, this time that his mom had a valid reason for blowing me off, I was happier still when she called that afternoon, just 24 hours before Ben’s party, to confirm that he’d be there.
Phew! Major Party Complication resolved, just in time for ...
Treat Bag Hell
The night before the party, I showed Brian the items I bought to fill the treat bags: Star Wars tattoos and cardboard Darth Vader masks. We both agreed the masks were crap, and he thought the tattoos looked too “Harley Davidson.” I also noticed I’d been charged $2.99 for a single sheet of five tattoos. Those bastards!
So I found myself, on the morning of Ben’s party, back at the party store, searching for toys for the treat bags. I settled on foam Batman planes and Darth Vader stickers, and I picked up a Star Wars table cloth, two Darth Vader balloons and some chocolate. Somehow, I spent an additional $30.
I had just 20 minutes to pick up the overpriced Star Wars-crap-adorned cake and get to John’s preschool for pick-up, then I had to race home, assemble treat bags and get everything into the car for the party. So much for stress-free.
The Requisite Mishaps and Forgotten Items
The party got off to a smooth start. I arrived and spread out the $4 Star Wars tablecloth only to realize that the Star Wars images hung at the sides where the chairs blocked them. All you could see was the yellow on top, with the balloons from the gym’s tablecloth showing through from underneath. Balloons. How fitting.
The teacher told me that 45 minutes into the party, I'd have to serve the cake and ice cream. With 5 minutes to spare, I had the table set, complete with drinks and Hoodsies. Then Brian said, “Kris, I can’t find the candles,” just as 15 children spun around and raced toward me screaming “Caaaake!! Yaaay!!”
Of course he couldn't find the candles. I hadn't brought any.
As Brian and the teacher looked for candles in the kitchen, the kids urged me to move the Star Wars cake in front of Ben. When I went to put the cake down, I realized the cardboard it sat on and the plastic platter below that were two separate entities, separated perhaps by a thin layer of vegetable shortening for added slippage. The cake shot off the platter and, fortunately, into my chest. My heart started pumping again just a few minutes later.
Cake-less Children; Star Wars-less Tablecloth
Brian emerged from the kitchen with two full-size white candlesticks.
“Light sabers,” my neighbor noted.
“All part of my plan,” I smiled, wiping at the blue line of frosting that ran across my chest.
“Keeping It Simple”
As for presents, I start all my birthday party planning efforts with the same mindset I have at Christmas: keep it simple. This year, I kept it so simple that, at the end of the party, we loaded enough birthday presents for three children into our van, then drove home and to give our son, yes, even more presents.
At least we weren’t stupid enough to give him another cake, although in hindsight, Ben in a sugar-induced coma is easier to deal with than Ben the Spoiled Hell Child. He wouldn’t let John touch a single one of his new toys and yet, stunningly, tried to take John’s “little brother gift” away from him, again and again and again.
John in his coveted Spider Man costume. The gloves make noises when they hit something.
At one point Ben got so mad at John that he screeched, “Frickin’ dude!”
I looked into my six-year-old’s face -- eyes wide and bloodshot, cheeks flushed, mouth agape and panting -- and said, “Hey Brian! Let’s give Ben our gifts now!”
Happy Birthday, sweetie. I hope you had fun (because we won't be doing this again anytime soon).
Monday, May 22, 2006
Blog Book Tour for It's a Girl: Women Writers on Raising Girls
Last month I came up with a brilliant idea: steal my husband’s laptop, grab a tote bag full of pens, notebooks and books, and escape to a local coffee shop. This gives me some needed all-in-a-row minutes to think without being interrupted by fights, snack demands and strangle-hugs, while not only being awake, but being jacked up on some decent house roast.
One problem though: my book of choice, It’s a Girl: Women Writers on Raising Daughters, kept making me cry. And I don’t just mean a little well up at the eye, I mean streaming tears. I'm not saying that you'll have the same problem. I'm just saying, bring sunglasses.
It's not a sad book, just touching, each essay in a different way. Chalk it up to the emotions I have about my mom, myself as a woman and a mom, and my daughter. Add to that all the hopes that I have not just for Ava as she grows to be a woman, but all the hopes I have for us, as mother and daughter. As a whole, the awe-inspiring writers in It's a Girl led me to contemplate how I learned to be a woman, and how I plan to help Ava become one.
More than anything else that I want for my daughter, I want her always to love me and confide in me. I want us to be like those “best friend” mother and daughters that you see sometimes on TV or in magazines, the ones who share everything and love spending time together. I want that, and I want it forever.
What? It could happen!
The odds of us being close .... well, I don’t know what they are, but I know a huge percentage of my chances lie outside my control. To better my odds, I’ve come up with a few rules for myself so as never to alienate my growing daughter:
1. Never say anything vaguely related to her appearance, positive or negative. When she comes down for school or a date wearing a belly shirt and short-shorts, smile sweetly, then rat her out to her Dad.
2. Always make her feel like she can come to me to talk about anything. Somehow.
3. Give her chocolate.
That’s pretty much my whole plan so far. Crap.
Andi Buchanan put it much more eloquently in the introduction:
"... the concerns of writers in It's a Boy were about the otherness of the male gender: What the heck do you do with a boy? It's a Girl writers ask the same questions about their daughters, but what prompts it is not fear of the unknown, but fear of what they know all too well."
As I read It's a Girl, it I couldn’t help thinking about Ava, and what I want most for her:
• have a relationship with God.
• love and honor herself.
• become self-actualized.
• follow her passions.
• feel comfortable in her own skin.
• be content and active.
• be in control of her life.
None of these seem particular to her as my daughter, though. I want those things for my boys, too. What rose to the top after some introspection was all of my sick, twisted body image issues that I don’t want her to experience, as well as my deep desire for us to be close. I plan to explore my feelings about my body and how our society shaped those negative feelings, and how I hope to help Ava navigate that minefield. But I’ll save that for another time. For now, I’ll just leave it at this:
Dear Ava,
Please never hate me.
Love,
Mom
One problem though: my book of choice, It’s a Girl: Women Writers on Raising Daughters, kept making me cry. And I don’t just mean a little well up at the eye, I mean streaming tears. I'm not saying that you'll have the same problem. I'm just saying, bring sunglasses.
It's not a sad book, just touching, each essay in a different way. Chalk it up to the emotions I have about my mom, myself as a woman and a mom, and my daughter. Add to that all the hopes that I have not just for Ava as she grows to be a woman, but all the hopes I have for us, as mother and daughter. As a whole, the awe-inspiring writers in It's a Girl led me to contemplate how I learned to be a woman, and how I plan to help Ava become one.
More than anything else that I want for my daughter, I want her always to love me and confide in me. I want us to be like those “best friend” mother and daughters that you see sometimes on TV or in magazines, the ones who share everything and love spending time together. I want that, and I want it forever.
What? It could happen!
The odds of us being close .... well, I don’t know what they are, but I know a huge percentage of my chances lie outside my control. To better my odds, I’ve come up with a few rules for myself so as never to alienate my growing daughter:
1. Never say anything vaguely related to her appearance, positive or negative. When she comes down for school or a date wearing a belly shirt and short-shorts, smile sweetly, then rat her out to her Dad.
2. Always make her feel like she can come to me to talk about anything. Somehow.
3. Give her chocolate.
That’s pretty much my whole plan so far. Crap.
Andi Buchanan put it much more eloquently in the introduction:
"... the concerns of writers in It's a Boy were about the otherness of the male gender: What the heck do you do with a boy? It's a Girl writers ask the same questions about their daughters, but what prompts it is not fear of the unknown, but fear of what they know all too well."
As I read It's a Girl, it I couldn’t help thinking about Ava, and what I want most for her:
• have a relationship with God.
• love and honor herself.
• become self-actualized.
• follow her passions.
• feel comfortable in her own skin.
• be content and active.
• be in control of her life.
None of these seem particular to her as my daughter, though. I want those things for my boys, too. What rose to the top after some introspection was all of my sick, twisted body image issues that I don’t want her to experience, as well as my deep desire for us to be close. I plan to explore my feelings about my body and how our society shaped those negative feelings, and how I hope to help Ava navigate that minefield. But I’ll save that for another time. For now, I’ll just leave it at this:
Dear Ava,
Please never hate me.
Love,
Mom
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Lucky
I planned on writing a Mother’s Day post this weekend. Instead, I wallowed.
Friday morning I checked the weather, which forecast rain, like build-an-ark rain, for the weekend. This meant my mom couldn’t join me for the incredible, awe-inspiring, spiritual re-awakening satellite broadcast thingy for moms that my MOPs group organized for Saturday morning.
Then, Brian annoyed me all Friday night, but that was just me with my DMS (during menstrual syndrome). Saturday morning I checked my email before starting up the motorboat to go the MOPs thing. I ended up on Cancer, Baby, and found out that Jessica had passed away, On Mother’s Day weekend of all times.
I grabbed a huge wad of Kleenex, jammed them into my purse and headed to the meeting. The rain, oh the rain! I managed to get to the church without drowning, got myself a cup of coffee, and while I cut myself some cake, I heard the organizer say, “It’s not going to happen.”
The code for the satellite broadcast, it did not work, and the phone number for the MOPs epicenter, it did not work. No awe-inspiring, spiritual, maternal re-awakening for me, perhaps in the fall.
I sat in my car trying to talk myself into doing something fun and arty and energizing. Instead I called Brian and asked him to read the grocery list to me. On the highway, my car floated across four different rivers before I bailed off and docked at a Shaw’s grocery store.
How annoying to be in a huge, 17-mile–wide super Shaw’s in which I couldn’t find simple egg noodles and when I discovered I forgot strawberries while perusing the canned pineapple, well, I just cost myself 45 minutes! My neck hurt. I kept thinking of Jessica, grocery shopping with her mom on Saturday mornings. My eyes kept filling up and I'd turn my eyes into the nutrition labels, thinking of the spinning ball on the pool table she described, thinking of how her mom must feel.
I have this new friend, Laura. She’s the mom of one of Ben’s classmates, and we’ve gone to the park together twice in the last month or so. I knew she might be sick, because she’s bald and wears baseball caps, but I hoped it was nothing. Our first playdate, after an hour in which I did idiotic things like complain about the state of my house and my weight, she told me she had advanced breast cancer and was first diagnosed five years ago, when her son was one. She told me she always thought she’d have four kids, that she’d volunteer a lot at the school, but she just never knows how she’ll feel day to day.
Last week we got together again. This time we ran into another, more question-asking-type mom from the class, who asked if Laura was done treatments.
John chose this moment to tell me all the elements, pros and cons of the rock and stick he’d found, so I only heard Laura say she will never be done with treatments, and the words, “two years.” She said her son knows everything that’s going on, but when it comes up he says, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I spent Mother’s Day thinking about Jessica and Laura. I have nothing profound to say. All I know is I felt heavy and sad all weekend. I felt a small part of the weight of their pain, the depth of their loss. I felt lucky one minute and panicked the next, knowing that anyone any moment can have the rug pulled out from under them. I spent a lot of time at my desk while Brian dealt with the kids. I decluttered and did some paperwork I should have done three years ago. I regrouped.
Monday I woke up and for the first time in a long time I felt excited about my day. I can’t explain it, except to say that Jessica and Heather gave me a gift for Mother’s Day: an ounce of perspective. Every day this week I have felt tired and flustered as usual but also present and happy. I don't want to waste my time. I don't want to miss anything.
“Forget failures. Forget mistakes. Forget everything except what you’re going to do now and do it. Today is your lucky day.”
~ Will Durant
Friday morning I checked the weather, which forecast rain, like build-an-ark rain, for the weekend. This meant my mom couldn’t join me for the incredible, awe-inspiring, spiritual re-awakening satellite broadcast thingy for moms that my MOPs group organized for Saturday morning.
Then, Brian annoyed me all Friday night, but that was just me with my DMS (during menstrual syndrome). Saturday morning I checked my email before starting up the motorboat to go the MOPs thing. I ended up on Cancer, Baby, and found out that Jessica had passed away, On Mother’s Day weekend of all times.
I grabbed a huge wad of Kleenex, jammed them into my purse and headed to the meeting. The rain, oh the rain! I managed to get to the church without drowning, got myself a cup of coffee, and while I cut myself some cake, I heard the organizer say, “It’s not going to happen.”
The code for the satellite broadcast, it did not work, and the phone number for the MOPs epicenter, it did not work. No awe-inspiring, spiritual, maternal re-awakening for me, perhaps in the fall.
I sat in my car trying to talk myself into doing something fun and arty and energizing. Instead I called Brian and asked him to read the grocery list to me. On the highway, my car floated across four different rivers before I bailed off and docked at a Shaw’s grocery store.
How annoying to be in a huge, 17-mile–wide super Shaw’s in which I couldn’t find simple egg noodles and when I discovered I forgot strawberries while perusing the canned pineapple, well, I just cost myself 45 minutes! My neck hurt. I kept thinking of Jessica, grocery shopping with her mom on Saturday mornings. My eyes kept filling up and I'd turn my eyes into the nutrition labels, thinking of the spinning ball on the pool table she described, thinking of how her mom must feel.
I have this new friend, Laura. She’s the mom of one of Ben’s classmates, and we’ve gone to the park together twice in the last month or so. I knew she might be sick, because she’s bald and wears baseball caps, but I hoped it was nothing. Our first playdate, after an hour in which I did idiotic things like complain about the state of my house and my weight, she told me she had advanced breast cancer and was first diagnosed five years ago, when her son was one. She told me she always thought she’d have four kids, that she’d volunteer a lot at the school, but she just never knows how she’ll feel day to day.
Last week we got together again. This time we ran into another, more question-asking-type mom from the class, who asked if Laura was done treatments.
John chose this moment to tell me all the elements, pros and cons of the rock and stick he’d found, so I only heard Laura say she will never be done with treatments, and the words, “two years.” She said her son knows everything that’s going on, but when it comes up he says, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I spent Mother’s Day thinking about Jessica and Laura. I have nothing profound to say. All I know is I felt heavy and sad all weekend. I felt a small part of the weight of their pain, the depth of their loss. I felt lucky one minute and panicked the next, knowing that anyone any moment can have the rug pulled out from under them. I spent a lot of time at my desk while Brian dealt with the kids. I decluttered and did some paperwork I should have done three years ago. I regrouped.
Monday I woke up and for the first time in a long time I felt excited about my day. I can’t explain it, except to say that Jessica and Heather gave me a gift for Mother’s Day: an ounce of perspective. Every day this week I have felt tired and flustered as usual but also present and happy. I don't want to waste my time. I don't want to miss anything.
“Forget failures. Forget mistakes. Forget everything except what you’re going to do now and do it. Today is your lucky day.”
~ Will Durant
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Super Moms, Unite!
Have you seen this Mother's Day tribute in your blog travels yet? John Watson of Blogging Baby designed the fun and useful Trading Card Maker on Flickr. Helene of Adventures in Parenthood has motivated a sizable group of moms to make their own Super Mom Trading Cards.
The gallery won't be complete without your card. Won't you join us and help Helene reach her goal of 100 moms in the gallery by Mother's Day?
• Follow the directions in Helene's post to make your own Super Mom Trading Card.
• Make sure to upload your Trading Card to Flickr with the tag SMTradecard.
• Have your family members bring you drinks and snacks while you view the Super Mom Trading Card Gallery here.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Three Unrelated Things
More Giveaway Madness: Proving my claim that I have "mom brain," or more accurately, "broken-sleep brain," I forgot that I had two Bratz CDs to give away. The other winner is Patti, of The Amazing Life of Patti. Congrats, and please email me your address!
My American Idol 2 Cents: If I see one more Elvis-song headline today I'm gonna scream, or download "A Little Less Conversation," or something. Yeah, Chris has a great rock voice, but wasn't he a little bland the last few shows? Maybe he sings the kind of rock I don't like. Which isn't easy to do.
Taylor, I like him but can't picture him winning -- I'd be shocked, really. Katherine's so beautiful and talented, but sometimes I wish she'd choose better songs and get a little more personality.
I'm rooting for Elliot. He reminds me of someone out of the 40s, and of my Dad: short and thin, with a long face and crooked teeth. And his voice just takes me away. I can't wait to listen to his recordings.
The Luncheon: While I would prefer to not make a short day out of preschool in honor of Mother's Day, John and I had the following exchange as I tucked him in tonight:
Me: "I had so much fun having lunch with you today, thank you."
John: "I did too. I want it to be this day forever."
He also said, "I wish we lived next door to a Chinese Restaurant." Less reflective of my mothering prowess, and yet, I have to agree with him.
Happy Mother's Day Weekend (yes, I expect you to make a weekend of it)!
My American Idol 2 Cents: If I see one more Elvis-song headline today I'm gonna scream, or download "A Little Less Conversation," or something. Yeah, Chris has a great rock voice, but wasn't he a little bland the last few shows? Maybe he sings the kind of rock I don't like. Which isn't easy to do.
Taylor, I like him but can't picture him winning -- I'd be shocked, really. Katherine's so beautiful and talented, but sometimes I wish she'd choose better songs and get a little more personality.
I'm rooting for Elliot. He reminds me of someone out of the 40s, and of my Dad: short and thin, with a long face and crooked teeth. And his voice just takes me away. I can't wait to listen to his recordings.
The Luncheon: While I would prefer to not make a short day out of preschool in honor of Mother's Day, John and I had the following exchange as I tucked him in tonight:
Me: "I had so much fun having lunch with you today, thank you."
John: "I did too. I want it to be this day forever."
He also said, "I wish we lived next door to a Chinese Restaurant." Less reflective of my mothering prowess, and yet, I have to agree with him.
Happy Mother's Day Weekend (yes, I expect you to make a weekend of it)!
Pointless Questions
• I dreamt last night that I drove my car off the road with Ava unrestrained in the back seat. I spent the rest of the dream trying to cover my tracks so as not to get arrested. Do you think this means I'm worried about being a good mother, or that I shouldn't read news about Britney Spears just before bed?
• What idiot said, "Love means never having to say you're sorry"? It was a guy, wasn't it?
• John's preschool is having a Mother's Day luncheon today, so I have to go early and eat a ham sandwich with him. Who really benefits from this? Me, who loses an hour and a half of work time, or his teachers, who get out of work an hour early?
• Is it, like, totally obvious that I have PMS?
• What idiot said, "Love means never having to say you're sorry"? It was a guy, wasn't it?
• John's preschool is having a Mother's Day luncheon today, so I have to go early and eat a ham sandwich with him. Who really benefits from this? Me, who loses an hour and a half of work time, or his teachers, who get out of work an hour early?
• Is it, like, totally obvious that I have PMS?
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Mothering a Baby, the Third Time Around
My guest post is up at Mommybloggers today. Aack! I mean, yay! I mean, please go check it out!
After I wrote it this morning, I went and cleaned the high chair, just for old time's sake.
After I wrote it this morning, I went and cleaned the high chair, just for old time's sake.
Monday, May 08, 2006
And the Winners Are ...
Be Happy or I'll Scream: Amanda
Frankly Pregnant: Kelly
Bratz, Genie Magic: Jamie
Unexpected Dreams, Songs From the Stars: Tracie
Come Back: Crouching Mommy, Hidden Laundry
Please send me your address so I can get these out to you (and off my desk!). Thanks for playing along, but moreso, for reading.
Frankly Pregnant: Kelly
Bratz, Genie Magic: Jamie
Unexpected Dreams, Songs From the Stars: Tracie
Come Back: Crouching Mommy, Hidden Laundry
Please send me your address so I can get these out to you (and off my desk!). Thanks for playing along, but moreso, for reading.
Mommybloggers Features Wonder Mom: Holy Crap!
I'm more than a little excited that Mommybloggers has decided to feature my blog today. Aack! I mean, yay!
I'll announce the giveaway winners in a little while. In the meantime, will you guys please stop over at Mommybloggers and say hi? I'm feeling a little lonely over there!
I'll announce the giveaway winners in a little while. In the meantime, will you guys please stop over at Mommybloggers and say hi? I'm feeling a little lonely over there!
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Week of Giveaways Reminder
There's still time to enter to win one of the books or CDs I'm giving away this week. Just click through to the post and leave a comment.
I meant to post this round-up earlier in the weekend, so I'll extend the deadline to Monday at 8 a.m., EST (5 a.m. Pacific time).
Monday: Be Happy or I'll Scream, by Sheri Lynch. Yeah, I know you think you read funny blogs so you don't need to read Sheri's book. But trust me, there's a reason she got a book deal.
Tuesday: Frankly Pregnant, by Stacy Quarty. Pregnancies don't get easier with experience. I had the most aches, pains and panics with my third. If you're pregnant or plan to be, this book may be the thing to put your mind at ease about that troublesome or embarrassing symptom.
Wednesday: Bratz, Genie Magic. Repetitive, a strong back beat. The girls will love it.
Thursday: Unexpected Dreams, Songs From the Stars. It's not Star Wars related. But Lucy Lawless sings on it.
Friday: Come Back, by Claire and Mia Fontaine. My Mom says you have to read it.
I meant to post this round-up earlier in the weekend, so I'll extend the deadline to Monday at 8 a.m., EST (5 a.m. Pacific time).
Monday: Be Happy or I'll Scream, by Sheri Lynch. Yeah, I know you think you read funny blogs so you don't need to read Sheri's book. But trust me, there's a reason she got a book deal.
Tuesday: Frankly Pregnant, by Stacy Quarty. Pregnancies don't get easier with experience. I had the most aches, pains and panics with my third. If you're pregnant or plan to be, this book may be the thing to put your mind at ease about that troublesome or embarrassing symptom.
Wednesday: Bratz, Genie Magic. Repetitive, a strong back beat. The girls will love it.
Thursday: Unexpected Dreams, Songs From the Stars. It's not Star Wars related. But Lucy Lawless sings on it.
Friday: Come Back, by Claire and Mia Fontaine. My Mom says you have to read it.
Friday, May 05, 2006
A Week of Giveaways, Day 5: Come Back
The final item in my week of giveaways is Come Back, A Mother and Daughter's Journey Through Hell and Back, a true story co-authored by Claire and Mia Fontaine. I plan to read and review this book at a later date, but I received two copies and want to give one away this week.
My mom is reading this book now, and when I asked her if I should read it, too, she said, "Every mother should read this, really."
Dani did read the whole book, and she posted a thoughtful review that you should check out. Here are some other press blurbs:
"Best mother-daughter memoir." - Glamour magazine
"A nightmarish saga of a teenage runaway in L.A. ends triumphantly ... Mia's desperate diary entries appear between Claire's lively, angry narrative, allowing mother and daughter to maintain a heart-wrenching, honest dialogue." - Publishers Weekly
"We strongly recommend this powerful mother-daughter memoir ... Intense, shocking, and ultimately triumphant, Come Back is the tale of two lives in turnaround." - B&N.com, as featured on the We Recommend page.
Also, you can learn more about the mother and daughter authors Claire and Mia Fontaine at www.claireandmia.com.
Want to win this book? Just leave a comment on this post through Monday. (I extended this one a day since I'm posting it late Friday.)
My mom is reading this book now, and when I asked her if I should read it, too, she said, "Every mother should read this, really."
Dani did read the whole book, and she posted a thoughtful review that you should check out. Here are some other press blurbs:
"Best mother-daughter memoir." - Glamour magazine
"A nightmarish saga of a teenage runaway in L.A. ends triumphantly ... Mia's desperate diary entries appear between Claire's lively, angry narrative, allowing mother and daughter to maintain a heart-wrenching, honest dialogue." - Publishers Weekly
"We strongly recommend this powerful mother-daughter memoir ... Intense, shocking, and ultimately triumphant, Come Back is the tale of two lives in turnaround." - B&N.com, as featured on the We Recommend page.
Also, you can learn more about the mother and daughter authors Claire and Mia Fontaine at www.claireandmia.com.
Want to win this book? Just leave a comment on this post through Monday. (I extended this one a day since I'm posting it late Friday.)
Bulletin: Blogging for Books
When I posted that list of links yesterday I knew I missed something. Blogging for Books over at Faster Than Kudzu is live through Monday morning.
Blog about cheating, then leave the link to your post over at Joshilyn's. You could very well become a Blogging for Books winner. Besides the fame you will receive a copy of The Art of Uncontrolled Flight, a novel by Kim Ponders, and you'll become eligible to be a contest judge.
Blog about cheating, then leave the link to your post over at Joshilyn's. You could very well become a Blogging for Books winner. Besides the fame you will receive a copy of The Art of Uncontrolled Flight, a novel by Kim Ponders, and you'll become eligible to be a contest judge.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Week of Giveaways, Day 4: Unexpected Dreams, Songs From The Stars
As the kids ran amuck around my desk, I checked my email one last time before heading to the park. There I saw an offer for this CD, which in my haste I thought had something to do with Star Wars, my six year old's latest obsession. Remembering that his birthday's coming up, and being in the midst of some strange, fleeting desire to accept every offer thrown my way, I agreed to receive a copy.Imagine my surprise when I received Unexpected Dreams, Songs From the Stars. This is a CD of quiet, lullaby-type songs sung by interesting vocalists such as:
• Scarlett Johansson
• Ewan McGregor
• Jennifer Garner
• Lucy Lawless
• Jeremy Irons
• John Stamos
• Julia Louis-Dreyfus
• Eric McCormack
• Teri Hatcher
For some reason I almost ripped the cardboard case getting the CD out and into my player. I mean, Elaine from Seinfeld, singing? Teri Hatcher? Mwahahahha!
After listening for a while, I reflected on these beautiful, talented actors, so rich and successful, and the depth of their talents goes farther than we even knew. They can sing, too!
I hate them all.
Bitterness and resentment aside, the music is quiet and comforting, the perfect CD to pop into your child's player as bedtime approaches. It's not my cup of tea, but it's not so bad. Plus you can make fun of Teri Hatcher and Jennifer Garner's singing. OK, OK, they sing fine. Bitches.
Want to win this CD? Leave a comment on this post between now and midnight on Sunday, EST. I will draw a name on Monday.
We Interrupt Giveaway Week for Some Link Love
I almost forgot I have a few links to share with you this week:
• Mieke over at Kid Squared is raising money for Cystic Fibrosis, and is very close to her $5,000 goal. She needs our help, so if you're interested, go here.
• Gary of Virtual Rants has had it tough lately. First his mom passed away, then his wife Julie became seriously ill. She is on the mend now, but must follow a low fat, high protein diet. He's looking for a little inspiration in this area. If you have any ideas for them, go here.
• Amanda of Mandajuice is offering a $50 Target gift certificate to the person who comes closest to guessing the date and time of her daughter's impending birth. If you want to guess, you'd better hurry. She's due soon! Also, if you're psychic and can guess the baby's name, you could win $50 cash. Here's the link.
• Last but not least, Cheri's video post at Sissyfuss has had me smiling since I watched it last week. You must watch it! Cheri and her husband, Matt, rock -- literally!
• Mieke over at Kid Squared is raising money for Cystic Fibrosis, and is very close to her $5,000 goal. She needs our help, so if you're interested, go here.
• Gary of Virtual Rants has had it tough lately. First his mom passed away, then his wife Julie became seriously ill. She is on the mend now, but must follow a low fat, high protein diet. He's looking for a little inspiration in this area. If you have any ideas for them, go here.
• Amanda of Mandajuice is offering a $50 Target gift certificate to the person who comes closest to guessing the date and time of her daughter's impending birth. If you want to guess, you'd better hurry. She's due soon! Also, if you're psychic and can guess the baby's name, you could win $50 cash. Here's the link.
• Last but not least, Cheri's video post at Sissyfuss has had me smiling since I watched it last week. You must watch it! Cheri and her husband, Matt, rock -- literally!
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Week of Giveaways, Day 3: Bratz, Genie Magic
You may be wondering why I would pimp Bratz merchandise on my blog. Was it the allure of having the UPS guy stop by my house? Do I need contact with fit, male grown ups that badly? Maybe I like hearing the doorbell ring, his voice calling, "Package!" from the front lawn, the growl of his brown box of a truck peeling off the curb. *falls into daydream*
OK, here's how it happened:
1. Receive an email from a PR firm. Although Bratz is in the subject line, I open it. I scroll down and see the offer of a review copy of the new Bratz CD, Genie Magic. I think, "No thanks," and close the email. Bratz are too racy: too much makeup, bared midriffs, porn star looks. They make Barbie look wholesome. On the CD cover, they're all collagen-lipped, with one of them sticking her butt out at me. However, a halo sits atop the word "Bratz." Hmmm...
2. Remember the Bratz Valentines that Ben received from some Kindergarten classmates. Their moms seem normal. And my great neice had Bratz stuff at her 5th birthday party. Maybe I'm a Bratz snob.
3. Go to Amazon and look it up. Many positive reviews, just a few bad. "Positive lyrics," "funky beat," blah blah blah.
4. Decide, who am I to judge? Perhaps Bratz are a beneign pop culture phenom, targeted to "tweens," but favored by the younger 5-to-8 set. Wonder why "tweens" became a word. I mean, these kids bear the label "pre-pubescent." Can't we give them a cooler name? Like, for example, grade-schooler or nine-year-old or child. I can't imagine myself in conversation saying, "Oh, Ben's doing great. He's a tween now."
5. Accept the offer.
6. Receive not one but two copies, from the Post Office. Damn.
7. Pop the CD into the kitchen player at about 4pm yesterday. Brace myself. Wind and rain kept my boys cooped inside the last two days, and they're edgy. The first song is "Me & My Girls." Girls this, girls that. I expect Ben to revolt against so much "girl," but he doesn't notice. (I carefully hid the CD from their view.)
8. John lasts about 8 minutes before demanding that I "turn that music off right now." But that's good for him. At his assessment this week, his preschool teacher told me he told everyone to "STOP SINGING that song!! at circle time. I told her he's done that to me since he could talk, and before that he cried in protest. She had no comment.
9. Recognize a few riffs from other classic songs, one by TLC. Recall the days when parents bought their tween girls Bad Girls, by Donna Summer. At least mine did. They even let me "perform" it in the living room all day without encroaching on my space. And look at me! No harm done! This stuff is tame in comparison. Plus Bad Girls is classic. This, clearly, is not.
10. Dance with Ava. Enjoy then get annoyed by the repetitive beat. Make it to song 4 then turn it off.
11. Hope that some of my readers want the new Bratz Genie Magic CD for their daughter or relative or friend's daughter, because they sent me two copies.
12. Write this post.
13. Updated: The next morning, John sees the CD jacket and asks what it is. I tell him it's the music I played yesterday. He says, "I really didn't like that music, Mama. It sounded like girly music."
The end.
Want to win Bratz Genie Magic? Leave a comment between now and Sunday at midnight, EST. I'll draw a name on Monday.
OK, here's how it happened:
1. Receive an email from a PR firm. Although Bratz is in the subject line, I open it. I scroll down and see the offer of a review copy of the new Bratz CD, Genie Magic. I think, "No thanks," and close the email. Bratz are too racy: too much makeup, bared midriffs, porn star looks. They make Barbie look wholesome. On the CD cover, they're all collagen-lipped, with one of them sticking her butt out at me. However, a halo sits atop the word "Bratz." Hmmm...
2. Remember the Bratz Valentines that Ben received from some Kindergarten classmates. Their moms seem normal. And my great neice had Bratz stuff at her 5th birthday party. Maybe I'm a Bratz snob.
3. Go to Amazon and look it up. Many positive reviews, just a few bad. "Positive lyrics," "funky beat," blah blah blah.
4. Decide, who am I to judge? Perhaps Bratz are a beneign pop culture phenom, targeted to "tweens," but favored by the younger 5-to-8 set. Wonder why "tweens" became a word. I mean, these kids bear the label "pre-pubescent." Can't we give them a cooler name? Like, for example, grade-schooler or nine-year-old or child. I can't imagine myself in conversation saying, "Oh, Ben's doing great. He's a tween now."
5. Accept the offer.
6. Receive not one but two copies, from the Post Office. Damn.
7. Pop the CD into the kitchen player at about 4pm yesterday. Brace myself. Wind and rain kept my boys cooped inside the last two days, and they're edgy. The first song is "Me & My Girls." Girls this, girls that. I expect Ben to revolt against so much "girl," but he doesn't notice. (I carefully hid the CD from their view.)
8. John lasts about 8 minutes before demanding that I "turn that music off right now." But that's good for him. At his assessment this week, his preschool teacher told me he told everyone to "STOP SINGING that song!! at circle time. I told her he's done that to me since he could talk, and before that he cried in protest. She had no comment.
9. Recognize a few riffs from other classic songs, one by TLC. Recall the days when parents bought their tween girls Bad Girls, by Donna Summer. At least mine did. They even let me "perform" it in the living room all day without encroaching on my space. And look at me! No harm done! This stuff is tame in comparison. Plus Bad Girls is classic. This, clearly, is not.
10. Dance with Ava. Enjoy then get annoyed by the repetitive beat. Make it to song 4 then turn it off.
11. Hope that some of my readers want the new Bratz Genie Magic CD for their daughter or relative or friend's daughter, because they sent me two copies.
12. Write this post.
13. Updated: The next morning, John sees the CD jacket and asks what it is. I tell him it's the music I played yesterday. He says, "I really didn't like that music, Mama. It sounded like girly music."
The end.
Want to win Bratz Genie Magic? Leave a comment between now and Sunday at midnight, EST. I'll draw a name on Monday.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
A Week of Giveaways, Day 2: Frankly Pregnant
Author Stacy Quarty recently sent me a copy of her new book Frankly Pregnant. In it, she shares the journal she kept while pregnant with her second child.With a mind to this book, Stacy documented every physical craving, ache and peculiarity of her entire pregnancy. In detail. Yes, it can be painful (she doesn't call them "horror-mones" for nothing).
But Quarty's upbeat, humorous take on what havoc pregnancy wrought carries the day, as does loads of useful information. The book contains a large section of "embarrassing" or unusual pregnancy questions gathered from women writing in to her Web site Frankly Pregnant: The Reality Site of Pregnancy.
Co-author Miriam Greene, M.D., practices in Manhattan. And? She served as a medical consultant and actress on HBO's Sex and the City. She delivered Miranda's baby! She's also a medical advisor to Family Circle Magazine.
Kris: How did you conceive the idea for this book?
Stacy Quarty: My main occupation is graphic design. After 9/11, some of my clients were just gone and others cut advertising budgets drastically. I had no work. I already had one daughter so I tried my hand at being a stay-at-hom mom (SAHM). Wow, is that hard work! I give SAHMs so much credit-- they are usually so overworked and underappreciated. Anyway, I knew I wanted to do something more. I needed an artistic outlet and knew that I always wanted to write a book.
I became pregnant with my second child and the subject became clear. Nobody had ever told me all that I wanted to know about pregnancy and childbirth, not even my own sister. I had read dozens of pregnancy books. Most of them were too clinical and never candid enough. Someone had to put all the gory details out there. Why not me?
Kris: Good God, woman! You seem to have had every symptom under the sun! Was this pregnancy much different than your first?
Stacy: My second pregnancy was so different from my first, which I later found to be very common. I carried differently, gained less weight, had worse hemorrhoids, delivered vaginally and was more confident, being that it was the second time around. The book covers more than just that second pregnancy though. There are several comparisons to what symptoms I had during that first pregnancy as well as experiences of all of my maternal girlfriends.
I don’t think my amount of pregnancy symptoms were overly abundant. I believe, as with the pain of labor and delivery, you forget about it after it’s over. It slowly gets erased from your memory banks. Women that are pregnant and reading my book tell me, “Thank God you had all these symptoms too. I am normal after all.” My goal was to give a true, personal, detailed account of pregnancy. I wanted to let other pregnant women know that they are not alone in their bodily and emotional oddities.
Kris: You run a Web site, FranklyPregnant.com. How did that come to be?
Stacy: Shortly after completing the journal portion of my book I started the site to communicate with the pregnant public. I wanted to find out what women really wanted to know about the experience of pregnancy and childbirth, so I began the Q&A bulletin board, “Ask Your Most Embarrassing Pregnancy Questions.”
The site’s content and popularity quickly grew and I confirmed what I had already guessed: That most women want to know everything about pregnancy, from third nipples and hormonal rages to labor and delivery. Pregnant women want confirmation that they, in fact, are “normal” when experiencing stabbing vaginal pains or uncontrollable flatulence. Hey, it happens to the best of us.
Kris: How exciting was it to connect with Dr. Green, the doctor from Sex in the City! Were you bowled over by that?
Stacy: I got lucky with my connection to Miriam. She and I have the same frank and wacky sense of humor and it all kind of fell into place. Also, she’s just so cute and fun in person. Did you notice I was holding her in the photo on the back cover. I just couldn’t resist.
And, yes, I was bowled over. I actually got the doctor that I had wished for while watching Sex in the City.
Kris: What’s next for you?
Stacy: I belong to the great Herstory writing group and I'm working on my third book. I have a feeling this one will take me some time to write, years maybe. I can’t tell you what it’s about but, I will tell you it has nothing to do with pregnancy.
Stacy welcomes comments on her book or Web site. Contact her at stacy@franklypregnant.com.
Would you like to win this book? Just leave a comment now through Sunday at midnight, EST. I will draw a name on Monday. Feel free to mention A Week of Giveaways on your blog.
Monday, May 01, 2006
A Week of Giveaways, Day 1: Be Happy or I'll Scream!
Sheri Lynch, author of Be Happy or I'll Scream, co-hosts the syndicated morning radio show Bob & Sheri, and she's got three children ranging from teen to toddler. So she's funny, talented and she's got serious mom credentials.
And, Lynch has a goal: to have the kind of family you'd find on a TV show. Oh, sure, this may sound trite. But she makes a convincing argument for why having a TV show family is 1) desirable and 2) attainable:
"I wanted the kind of life where cookies were baked and bonding was accomplished and Valuable Life Lessons were learned. I wanted laughter, mixed with a few tears, of course, and some frustrations of the kind that led to growth, maybe a handful of challenges and difficulties to build character (without eroding the soul), and mostly, loads of fun, joyful , wonderful memories. What I yearned for, in other words, was an entire life made up of Very Special Episodes."
Lynch figures she must meet four requirements: an agreeable husband ("there are almost no family sitcoms without one"), reasonably enthusiastic kids, a Series of Wholesome Adventures and communication. "Communication is the single driving catalyst that can turn any Wholesome Adventure into a Valuable Life Lesson," Lynch says.
The first Wholesome Adventure is a trip to Chicago which features the obligatory puking all over the hotel sofa bed. The family tours the city like troopers:
"The Hancock Observatory provided, in addition to a breathtaking view of Lake Michigan, a delightful opportunity to introduce an old phobia to a new one:
Frear of Heights, please meet Fear of Skyscraper Window Suddenly Disintegrating While My Toddler is Leaning Against It. I think you two will get along famously."
In my favorite chapter, Lynch muses what would happen if kids had their own magazine dedicated to parental torture: "Mercenaries have Soldier of Fortune; fishermen have Field & Stream; people with no sense of irony have Real Simple. What if kids had their own superspecialized publication?"
Relentless: The Magazine for Kids Committed to Chaos features a hilarious and horrifying Q&A with Lynch's toddler and preschool daughters.
"Olivia: When I'm in the middle of a scene, crying until I make myself physically sick or cramming a whole cheeseburger into my mouth at once or whatever, I'm not thinking of anything beyond making my parents suffer as much as I can at that moment. That's always the ultimate goal, no matter what.
"Caramia: She's right. .... In Time Out! the script called for Olivia to slam my finger in the door, then keep trying to pull it closed while I'm slowly building from a sildnet scream into a full-on howl. I told her, 'Look, just go for it. Don't worry about me. Slam and pull. Hard as you can.' I wanted that scene to be as real as possible."
When I started reading this book, I got out these tiny Post-It tabs to mark places where Lynch said something funny to perhaps include in this review. By page 20 I had already used about 20 tabs, so I decided to put the damn tabs away and just convince you to by the book with my sheer will and use of the word funny many times in my review.
Oh yeah, she has a lively writing style too. That's the end of my literary analysis.
One thing I kept thinking while reading this book: Sheri should blog! And she does. You can find her here.
Want to win this book? Leave a comment, and I'll choose a name on Monday. Come back tomorrow for another book or music CD giveaway.
And, Lynch has a goal: to have the kind of family you'd find on a TV show. Oh, sure, this may sound trite. But she makes a convincing argument for why having a TV show family is 1) desirable and 2) attainable:
"I wanted the kind of life where cookies were baked and bonding was accomplished and Valuable Life Lessons were learned. I wanted laughter, mixed with a few tears, of course, and some frustrations of the kind that led to growth, maybe a handful of challenges and difficulties to build character (without eroding the soul), and mostly, loads of fun, joyful , wonderful memories. What I yearned for, in other words, was an entire life made up of Very Special Episodes."
Lynch figures she must meet four requirements: an agreeable husband ("there are almost no family sitcoms without one"), reasonably enthusiastic kids, a Series of Wholesome Adventures and communication. "Communication is the single driving catalyst that can turn any Wholesome Adventure into a Valuable Life Lesson," Lynch says.
The first Wholesome Adventure is a trip to Chicago which features the obligatory puking all over the hotel sofa bed. The family tours the city like troopers:
"The Hancock Observatory provided, in addition to a breathtaking view of Lake Michigan, a delightful opportunity to introduce an old phobia to a new one:
Frear of Heights, please meet Fear of Skyscraper Window Suddenly Disintegrating While My Toddler is Leaning Against It. I think you two will get along famously."
In my favorite chapter, Lynch muses what would happen if kids had their own magazine dedicated to parental torture: "Mercenaries have Soldier of Fortune; fishermen have Field & Stream; people with no sense of irony have Real Simple. What if kids had their own superspecialized publication?"
Relentless: The Magazine for Kids Committed to Chaos features a hilarious and horrifying Q&A with Lynch's toddler and preschool daughters.
"Olivia: When I'm in the middle of a scene, crying until I make myself physically sick or cramming a whole cheeseburger into my mouth at once or whatever, I'm not thinking of anything beyond making my parents suffer as much as I can at that moment. That's always the ultimate goal, no matter what.
"Caramia: She's right. .... In Time Out! the script called for Olivia to slam my finger in the door, then keep trying to pull it closed while I'm slowly building from a sildnet scream into a full-on howl. I told her, 'Look, just go for it. Don't worry about me. Slam and pull. Hard as you can.' I wanted that scene to be as real as possible."
When I started reading this book, I got out these tiny Post-It tabs to mark places where Lynch said something funny to perhaps include in this review. By page 20 I had already used about 20 tabs, so I decided to put the damn tabs away and just convince you to by the book with my sheer will and use of the word funny many times in my review.
Oh yeah, she has a lively writing style too. That's the end of my literary analysis.
One thing I kept thinking while reading this book: Sheri should blog! And she does. You can find her here.
Want to win this book? Leave a comment, and I'll choose a name on Monday. Come back tomorrow for another book or music CD giveaway.
Is Daily Phys Ed Coming to Your Child's School?
My latest post, a news piece, is up at DotMoms if you're interested.
Did you know that kids need at least an hour of exercise every day ...
Did you know that kids need at least an hour of exercise every day ...
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