Big 10 Mom

Yes, that is my desk. Yes it was a Monday morning and I had plenty of work that had to be done. And yes, I really do have that many screens.

This Monday marked the 7th year in a row (one year being a double with 2 kids involved) that I have been in charge of making sure my little Badgers are able to get their season student football tickets. If you know anything about attending a Big 10 school, you know what serious business this is.

When my daughter first went to UW you had to Fed Ex in your forms. For some reason I missed the last pick up and a friend and I drove frantically through town chasing down the Fed Ex truck. (yes, I have friends who would do this with me)

Why, you ask, is this my responsibility and not theirs? Let’s see, for at least 6 of these 7 years at least one of them was a counselor in the Adirondacks with no cell service and no computers. (worth doing it to know they could actually unplug for the summer) And this year, young Daniel is a working stiff, riding the Long Island Railroad at the exact time that the tickets went on sale.

I am happy to report I am 8 for 8 on season tics for my kids.

Next June I will have that same bittersweet feeling about not having to do this as I had when I did not have any camp trunks scattered all over my living room the second week in June.

Time to Cry Tuesday – Disappointment

Disappointment… such a lousy emotion. It comes tethered to expectations and rears its ugly head out of nowhere when you think you have ‘it’ all handled.  I have tried my best to manage expectations to avoid this nasty sucker. But sometimes shit happens, you are at its mercy, and it takes you down.

Big time.

To make it short and avoid a pity party, I have managed high blood pressure. It has been controlled for a long time, went a little wacky back in the fall and got back on track. Then I had a reaction to some meds that made me feel very ill and caused my ankle to swell (of course the one I sprained a while back) and the switch of meds set me on a BP roller coaster I do not wish on my worst enemy.

The net: I could not fly. And what was I supposed to do… you bet. Fly. To Spain. To see my boy who is studying abroad. Who I have not seen since January. On a trip we had planned forever. At a time when we really needed a break. On the first real vacation in many, many years. That we can’t reschedule. Not life shattering, just a piece of life that I can’t get back. One of the really fun pieces.

I am coming out the other side of this huge disappointment and all I can do is run through my head all of the things I have told my kids over the years when their expectations were shattered:

1. Sometimes you just have to feel like crap.
2. Misery gives happiness context.
3. Everything happens for a reason and sometimes we don’t find out what that reason is for a long time.
4. Who you are when things suck says more about you than who you are when they are great.
5. Sometimes its not fair. Period.

On the other end of that wisdom I was fully aware of how annoying that wisdom could be. (sorry kids)

Until a friend of mine posted a favorite Maya Angelou quote that made me smile and think about who I really want to be:

“I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights.”

Even a Jewish girl gets the last one.

So if you see me knocking on a christian neighbor’s door asking to borrow their christmas lights in the rain wearing the same thing for 2 days in a row, you will know that it is just an exercise.

As is all of life.

 

Mom Fail

Packaging. It can be so deceiving. At first glance the red and white box simply seemed to be the inhaler I had just picked up from the pharmacy, so it went in the ‘to pack’ pile for my son’s semester abroad.

Ok, so it was the dog’s ear drops instead. Hey, she never let’s me get near her with them, anyway. Someone might as well use them.

I know, a wheezing American in Spain would probably not have seen the humor in that.

Mom fail or honest mistake?

Unattended Children

 

This sign hangs in the waiting room of my Vet’s office. (the wispy stuff is halloween related).

I love these people. We have been through a lot together in the past 13 years, both with my first dog and now my new one. They are kind, compassionate, loving people who have to put up with people and their pet craziness all day long. Which I would imagine is nothing compared to the irresponsible parenting that comes along with the territory.

I love this solution. Clear, to the point and with humor.

Hey, I wonder if there will be a band of wired kids and puppies running around in town this month.

I Bet You Wished

I am pretty sure this stuff gets put in front of me intentionally. Perhaps because I have a keen sensitivity to it and pay attention. I live so much of my life – both personal and professional – elbow deep in the details. That is probably why I cannot help but see this stuff. This one was actually spotted from the back seat by my daughter. The fact that my kids get this stuff and notice them is my single greatest parenting achievement (a close second is the fact that they love a good bathroom joke).

I have written about the wisdom of the universe before. In love, in art – more than once – and of course in regards to plumbing and feminine hygiene products. As you all know, that last one is something that has plagued the masses for decades.

This one? It is actually a billboard! We passed it on the way home from Brooklyn the other night. I don’t even remember where it was, but I will take a guess and say somewhere on the BQE (and no worries, I was not driving).

So here is the thing – how many tens of thousands of people pass this sign every day? This is a big commuter corridor, after all. It is going east so I am going to say most people see it on their way home at the end of the day. Does anyone actually SEE it? Do they read it and think, hmmmm, what DO I wish? What do I wish so much that someone would bet on it? And based on the tense of the sentence, what do I wish I had done in the past? Maybe you are a grammar and punctuation junkie (cough, cough, Shelly Kramer), and you wonder why there is no question mark at the end of the sentence. Or you might think, hey, is this a real billboard or graffiti? Or damn, I need to get my phone out fast and take a picture of this one (that would be all you Amytypes out there). I worry that too many people – probably the majority – pay it no mind at all. Which is the whole point of this post.

On this beautiful Sunday morning, on the back nine of the summer (that’s for all my golf peops), I would like you all to ponder what you wish today. Make it a good one. And I would be honored if you would be so kind as to share that wish… because that BS about it not coming true if you share it is old school.

What is a wish if not to share?

Happy Sunday everyone!

Time to Cry Tuesday – Blank Inside

Of course this card is ‘Blank Inside’. What could they possibly have written that would have been as amazing as that image on the cover? It stopped me in my tracks as I walked down the street. It was sort of like simultaneously staring at the accident and going to a small town carnival while taking hallucinogenics. Not that I have ever done that, but – you know – it is how I would imagine it to be.

As soon as I took the shot, both my daughter and I agreed that it reminded us of one of her friends. I immediately posted it on her Facebook wall.

So, this is where the Time to Cry Tuesday piece comes in. (I am sure you were wondering where I was going with this). I have known this particular friend of hers since pre-school – almost her entire life. I have watched her grow up as I have watched my own kids.

I consider her one of my own.

Her humor is like ours; leaning towards the offbeat (is that an understatement?) . She is bright and fun and funny and…

the first person I thought of to share this with.

Which made me realize that all these little girls had grown up to be women who I love to be around. Their wit and wisdom is beyond their years and they have a way of making me laugh at a moment’s notice.

And they can surely teach me a thing or two about honing my Magnet for the Absurd skills.

So here’s to you, Miss Kate, a blog post dedicated to all you have become. I cannot wait to see how far you will go.

Hugs, love and come over and bake any time your little heart desires.

The Graduation Post 2 – Zen and the Art of Letting Go

Here is the second of the graduation posts. How different to graduate your youngest child, this is when YOUR life changes the most. Timely as he is leaving for the summer today after only 3 weeks home… the longest amount of  time he has been here in 2 years. Hey, we raise them to grow up, kiddies. THIS is the good stuff. 

There are times in your life when you simply have to let it go. When you are a parent – and a control freak to boot – letting go is not the easiest thing to do.

But I know better. Time marches on and either we march along with it or we get trampled. Ok, so maybe I feel some boots on my back right about now. And I know I am not alone.

So, to all of you who are trying to march into step with the graduation class of 2010, here it is: the Time to Cry Tuesday post about graduating your youngest child.

The other day, during the 4-hour end of school/pre-camp errand, Danny and I found ourselves in the bookstore and I came across Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenanceby Robert M. Pirsig. This 1974 novel was one of my most favorites back in the day – whenever the hell ‘the day’ was. Maybe High School, or college. I like to recommend some quality books to my kids in between the trash so I suggested that he read this. After being rejected by over 121 publishers it went on to sell over 4 million copies and was translated into 27 languages.

I suppose I was not alone in my love for this book.

While he browsed, I stopped at the Starbucks to try to alleviate the sleep-deprived haze I found myself in that is all too familiar this time of year. I began to refresh my memory by reading the back of the book. Up until this moment I had done a damn good job of holding it together. He is ready. He is excited. He is moving on to the next chapter of his life with the confidence and unbridled passion that only a young man of almost 18 could have.

I was good, I tell you, until I read this:

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance is a powerful, moving, and penetrating examination about how we live… and a breathtaking meditation on how to live better… an unforgettable narration of a summer motorcycle trip across America’s Northwest, undertaken by a father and his young son. A story of love and fear – growth, discovery and acceptance – that becomes a profound personal and philosophical odyssey into life’s fundamental questions…

And that was when it happened. I broke. There in the Starbucks while ordering the grande iced latte (not even half caff, for G-d sake) I could not breathe. What if I had not imparted enough to him? Could I have done more? Could I have ‘lived better’ by example? Why did I never take a motorcycle trip cross country with him when he was younger ? (ok, that one is a stretch) Wait, I need a do over! I am sure there is some colossal parenting task I did not achieve well enough. Seriously, it went too fast, how could he make it without me?

And then I looked across the store.  And there he was, with that scruffy almost-beard and that ultra-confident, but in no way cocky little swagger that he has. And I realized the only wisdom that was not realized was my own:

The Art of Letting Go.

My friends, the road is long. And then it ends(ish). But as we who havegraduated the siblings before these kids know, being a parent is a life-long job. And this stage is in many ways more fun than any of them. They are the people we grew from babies.

Their own people. And with any luck they will take care of US when we are old. (which may be sooner than I think if I don’t get some sleep soon)

To my boy, may we always have days like these past few weeks we have shared. Thanks for humoring me through them. And for making me so very proud to be your mom.

I love you. Now go and be all you can be.

And be careful.

Parental Role Models

Today was our anniversary. This is the card we got from our kids:

This was what they wrote inside. And when I say ‘they’ I mean Jana. Sorry Dan but we know you had no idea it was our anniversary today.

Perhaps I need to be less candid with the kids.

 

Mothers of the Year – Tanorexic Mom and Pink Bikini Hooker Mom

Oh, how proud I am to live in the Northeast these days. We are blessed with two fabulous mother role models  just in time for Mother’s Day. How inspiring.

Some of you moms out there are worrying about your parenting skills. My friend Michelle Lamar has been writing about raising teens on Huff Po this week and lamenting about whether or not she is making sound choices. Have no fear, Michelle, these two beauties will make you feel much better.

Julio Cortez/AP Photos

Tanorexic mom? That would be the name of the new action figure doll from herobuilder.com that is modeled after the woman from Jersey who got all sorts of attention for obsessive tanning. The story started with an accusation of taking her little one into a tanning booth with her, but the media became so enthralled with her that she hit SNL this past weekend with a sketch that had me in tears. (I loved the toast part… I am such an infant)

Fox News

Then there is Pink Bikini Hot Dog Hooker Mom (name just rolls right off the tongue, doesn’t it?) This morning as I poured my first cup of joe I was assaulted with the image of this lunatic. And, scary but true, she lives not far from where I grew up. As she told us so wisely, “Stripping and prostitution are 2 different things.” Ok, hon, so where does lap dancing fall? Better yet, where does lap dancing after luring the guys to your hot dog truck in a pink bikini. Talk about self esteem… I wish I could see what this chick sees when she looks in the mirror. I simply loved her closing statement on the news, “Come to Sunrise Highway in Baldwin tomorrow and I will have on my pink bikini and we’ll take a picture by the hot dawg truck.”

What’s the shot I can convince Gary that the best Mother’s Day gift he can give me would be a picture of him with this lunatic?

Twenty-three

My daughter is 23.

There I said it. That was not easy. How can this be? The curly-headed little girl that used to boss us all around is now really a grown up. Like taking the 6:45 train go to work everyday kind of grown up. Like getting back a tax refund kind of grown up (lucky girl).

I have always said that the first 5 years of parenting lasts forever and after that it flies by so fast you don’t know what hit you.

Happy birthday to the one who knows me best, keeps me in line, chills me out, shares the ups and downs and still makes me laugh every day. (well almost every day). 

For those who are saddened by the idea of their kids growing up, here is some wonderful news. It gets better every year.

Love you Petuney. May your dreams all come true, even if they are taking a little detour on the 6:45 right now.

Happy 23!