Okay, I'm just going to admit, right up front, that I love "reality" television! There's nothing more I like, on a quiet day when everyone else is at work or school, then to turn on my own personal crack, and watch a marathon of the Real Housewives of Wherever while folding laundry (or, more accurately, dining with my friends Ben and Jerry).
But, the other month, I started watching a new show where thin, beautiful, well dressed moms go about town and do their errands and business with their wee tots in tow. While the show seemed pretty silly to begin with, I started to get sucked in after a few weeks. I imagined myself as an amazingly dressed, size 0 mommy with perfect highlights and tons of time to run around and get a spray tan and mani-pedi between adorable playdates with my angelic bunnies. It was a fun, harmless fantasy--you know, that I had time to work out, have a shower, shop at expensive boutiques, have my handsome husband bleach and veneer my teeth instead of using Crest Whitestrips when they're on sale....
Then, came the "girl's weekend" episode. And, I swear, I haven't stopped snickering yet.
Somehow, the reality shows that I watch love to have the "girls" go away for a wild weekend somewhere wonderful. These ladies spend their time in limos, private airplanes (or if, heaven forbid, they fly commercial, it's always in first class!), high end hotel suites or gigantic houses on the ocean, and they drink lots of cocktails while wearing very skimpy bikinis with adorable matching cover-ups. The amount of money and time these beauties spent waxing, buffing, and polishing just to go away for a weekend was enviable--since the last time I got anything close to a wax job was ripping a glitter sticker off my face after walking around half the day not knowing it was there.
I feel safe saying that I don't know a single mom that "vacations" like this.
This is how my last girls only weekend went.
First, there was no Gulf Stream. There was no limo. Usually, we're rockin' one of our minivans, but this time we got to go in one of the dad's car--a white Hummer. It was our sparkling Kardashian moment! It was our only Kardashian moment...
When we got to our destination (off-season at a beach with lots of outlet stores near by, which, personally ranked very high on our list of what we were looking for), we got unpacked. There was not a single bikini--or, even a tankini--in sight. It would take at least two hands to count the number of c-sections present, and a couple of extra feet full of toes to count the total number of children these lovely bodies had delivered. There was no way in hell we were wearing bathing suits--and, even if we had, they would have been very modest and tasteful with matching skirt bottoms. Purchased on sale, with a coupon, and with free shipping, and worn with the intent of covering as much front-butt as possible as well as eliminating as many square inches of bare skin that we'd have to shave in order to be seen in public. Most of us haven't had time to paint our own toenails in months, if not years, so there were no spray tans or perfect mani-pedis in sight.
Instead of rushing out in tiny slipdresses to have cocktails at a local hotspot, we pulled on our jammies and starting pouring wine. Our jammies were not the silky, flirty little numbers from tv--I personally was wearing my favorite pink fleece pj's with the polar bears and snowflakes, and, best of all, a hole in the butt that I never got around to fixing.
I stared at the tv, watching the pretty moms pick bunk-mates and hop into their beds in full make-up and jewelry and start giggling and gossiping about the other moms. After their requisite pillow fight.
Are you kidding me??!!
First of all, there was no full make-up in bed on our weekend, since none of us put much--if any--on during the day to begin with. Jewelry? Ah, maybe a wedding band... And as for the giggling and gossiping into the wee hours? We were all too exhausted from life at that point, and my only concern was not farting or snoring so loud that I woke up my bunk mate with nightmares about being chased with a chainsaw. And, it's really hard to giggle and gossip with a mouth guard for my teeth grinding. Forget the pillow fights--we're the ones cleaning up afterwards, and it's really hard for me to have a pillow fight while wearing my orthopedic boot for my foot problems.
Yep. We're definitely in the running for the Real Housewives.
While the tv moms went yachting in their itsy-bitsy bikinis and drank champagne--we did our shopping at the outlets, and got incredible deals with our coupons and no sales tax. While the tv moms went to swanky bistros for meals, we dined on Cracker Barrel and drank Starbucks. While the tv moms gossiped about each other and were catty--we were just so grateful to have a couple days together and not have to cut anyone else's meat. Now, I'm not saying I wouldn't love a mani-pedi, waxing, buff, and polish--or all the awesome clothes!--but, I think our girls' weekend was pretty awesome. And, that's all that matters around here.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Summer Bucket List Fail!
It has come to my attention, with all the television commercials and sales fliers, that it is back to school time. BTS. "The most wonderful time of the year." And, all that jazz.
Normally, by this point in August I would be totally ready to send my kiddos back to school. In fact, by mid-July, I'm usually googling "boarding schools" and "military schools". And, depending on the amount of whining and/or drama from DQ, quite possibly "convent school". With the search including "overseas".
But, this summer, things were completely different. I don't know if it had to do with the fact that this is one of the last summers where I can convince myself that my little Drama Queen is still a little girl (even though she's 5'3" tall...) or that the WMB can still fit comfortably in my lap, but I really wish this summer would never end.
We've ridden bikes, and eaten snow cones, and climbed trees, and made forts. Both kids learned how to roller blade, and the WMB is becoming quite the little river otter thanks to swim lessons from one of my close friends.
We've gone to museums, and caught fireflies (and learned how to "talk" to them!), and made s'mores. The kiddos are old enough to ride their bikes, on their own, to their friends' houses, and will spend hours with their buddies playing in the woods or at the park.
And, this summer, I realized their time (especially DQ's) playing in childhood is fading away. One day, they won't want to go to the park and play or climb trees. One day, they won't want to go on a bike ride with MacGyver and me to the snow cone stand. One day, they'll tell me "I forgot how to play." Way too soon, play time will be gone and the tween-teen eye rolling and deep sighs will start, and my children will disappear from childhood and enter the growing-away portion of their lives.
So, this summer I made a bucket list. It was a very pretty, colorful bucket list, downloaded from the website of a much more creative and computer literate mother. In the 20 spaces allotted on the bright graphic sand bucket, I began to write down all the fun things we'd do together this summer. Things like "camp in the back yard" and "go to Brownie's Beach to hunt for fossils." I wrote "visit the National Building Museum to make a Lego masterpiece" and "go zip-lining at Tuckahoe State Park."
You see--I grand plans! I was going to make this summer count! We were going to have fun, dammit!
And, now, three months later, I have exactly two things marked off that list.
TWO
There were no trips to Dinosaur Park or Longwood Gardens (are you kidding! Have you seen the prices??!!)
Never made it to the Enchanted Woods at Winterthur or the butterfly exhibit at Brookside Gardens. Forget completing the ParkQuest. We never even started it, even though I camped out at our computer, counting down the minutes until the website opened and the limited number of passports disappeared in 15 minutes...
However, if I looked a bit "outside the box", I should have written down some other adventures on our summer bucket list. The types of things that may have been less "educational", but were apparently a hoot to the kids.
Like "break dishwasher, preferably with a load of three-day-old crusty dishes that smell like decaying zombie brains". Or, "blow up oven while cleaning it, sending a giant spark and a plume of smoke up the backside while simultaneously shorting out several connections that melt metal-to-metal." (Yep, that one was especially fun. And, educational. Did you know I've been living with a short in my oven that could have burned my house down for the last 5 1/2 years? Nor did I!) At least that experience meant Squisito's pizza and Chik Filet, which was icing on their cupcake of smoke and watching Mommy panic and wonder if we should call 911.
I think the kids' favorite adventure was when I was vacuuming the bathrooms of all their bits of paper and trash, and the entire bottom of the vacuum fell off. They were thrilled beyond belief that this meant I couldn't vacuum their rooms or the play room for the foreseeable future! Hooray!!! This started the next adventure of "how much fairy dust, aka glitter, can we spread around the house before Mommy loses her damn mind!!!"
There is still glitter and sequins under the couch. In the pantry. In the closets. On poor, long-suffering MacGyver's boxers. Once, DQ sneezed and glitter came out. I kid you not. It was glitter-palooza around here.
When, oh when, will I ever learn that childhood is not something that can be scheduled? Or put on a list. Even if that list is cute and colorful.
If I was to write another summer bucket list (which I won't), it should have had things like "stay in pajamas all day" and "build enormous fort with all the blankets and sheets in the house." We've certainly done those things. In fact, the fort is still up in the dining room, and the munchkins have been playing a complicated game of "bears" in it for over a week. Don't know the rules of the game, or even why they called it "bears", but if it gives me time to catch up on the Real Housewives and Interior Therapy, I don't much care. Viva la fort!
All this comes around to the fact that my family is really, really not ready for school. School means the fort will be taken down to make room for homework. Long mornings and afternoons playing with their friends in the woods or biking around the community will be replaced with rushing around to get ready for the bus and no one around to play with on the weekends because of soccer games and gymnastics practice. Adventures will be relegated to the weekends, if they happen much at all. I mean, have you seen how crowded the Science Center or Mt. Vernon is on the weekends? No thank you.
So, to the other parents who are counting down the hours and minutes until their sweet bunnies get on the bus, I'm sorry but I can't join your enthusiasm this year. This is DQ's last year of elementary school, and middle school looms on the horizon. The WMB has just gotten back into firetrucks and ambulances, and I don't want that to go away and be replaced with Pokemon or Ninjago. I want them to be up a tree, not at a desk, for just a little bit longer. I want them to be "little" for as long as possible... So summer, please last a little longer. We're still having too much fun!
Normally, by this point in August I would be totally ready to send my kiddos back to school. In fact, by mid-July, I'm usually googling "boarding schools" and "military schools". And, depending on the amount of whining and/or drama from DQ, quite possibly "convent school". With the search including "overseas".
But, this summer, things were completely different. I don't know if it had to do with the fact that this is one of the last summers where I can convince myself that my little Drama Queen is still a little girl (even though she's 5'3" tall...) or that the WMB can still fit comfortably in my lap, but I really wish this summer would never end.
We've ridden bikes, and eaten snow cones, and climbed trees, and made forts. Both kids learned how to roller blade, and the WMB is becoming quite the little river otter thanks to swim lessons from one of my close friends.
We've gone to museums, and caught fireflies (and learned how to "talk" to them!), and made s'mores. The kiddos are old enough to ride their bikes, on their own, to their friends' houses, and will spend hours with their buddies playing in the woods or at the park.
And, this summer, I realized their time (especially DQ's) playing in childhood is fading away. One day, they won't want to go to the park and play or climb trees. One day, they won't want to go on a bike ride with MacGyver and me to the snow cone stand. One day, they'll tell me "I forgot how to play." Way too soon, play time will be gone and the tween-teen eye rolling and deep sighs will start, and my children will disappear from childhood and enter the growing-away portion of their lives.
So, this summer I made a bucket list. It was a very pretty, colorful bucket list, downloaded from the website of a much more creative and computer literate mother. In the 20 spaces allotted on the bright graphic sand bucket, I began to write down all the fun things we'd do together this summer. Things like "camp in the back yard" and "go to Brownie's Beach to hunt for fossils." I wrote "visit the National Building Museum to make a Lego masterpiece" and "go zip-lining at Tuckahoe State Park."
You see--I grand plans! I was going to make this summer count! We were going to have fun, dammit!
And, now, three months later, I have exactly two things marked off that list.
TWO
There were no trips to Dinosaur Park or Longwood Gardens (are you kidding! Have you seen the prices??!!)
Never made it to the Enchanted Woods at Winterthur or the butterfly exhibit at Brookside Gardens. Forget completing the ParkQuest. We never even started it, even though I camped out at our computer, counting down the minutes until the website opened and the limited number of passports disappeared in 15 minutes...
However, if I looked a bit "outside the box", I should have written down some other adventures on our summer bucket list. The types of things that may have been less "educational", but were apparently a hoot to the kids.
Like "break dishwasher, preferably with a load of three-day-old crusty dishes that smell like decaying zombie brains". Or, "blow up oven while cleaning it, sending a giant spark and a plume of smoke up the backside while simultaneously shorting out several connections that melt metal-to-metal." (Yep, that one was especially fun. And, educational. Did you know I've been living with a short in my oven that could have burned my house down for the last 5 1/2 years? Nor did I!) At least that experience meant Squisito's pizza and Chik Filet, which was icing on their cupcake of smoke and watching Mommy panic and wonder if we should call 911.
I think the kids' favorite adventure was when I was vacuuming the bathrooms of all their bits of paper and trash, and the entire bottom of the vacuum fell off. They were thrilled beyond belief that this meant I couldn't vacuum their rooms or the play room for the foreseeable future! Hooray!!! This started the next adventure of "how much fairy dust, aka glitter, can we spread around the house before Mommy loses her damn mind!!!"
There is still glitter and sequins under the couch. In the pantry. In the closets. On poor, long-suffering MacGyver's boxers. Once, DQ sneezed and glitter came out. I kid you not. It was glitter-palooza around here.
When, oh when, will I ever learn that childhood is not something that can be scheduled? Or put on a list. Even if that list is cute and colorful.
If I was to write another summer bucket list (which I won't), it should have had things like "stay in pajamas all day" and "build enormous fort with all the blankets and sheets in the house." We've certainly done those things. In fact, the fort is still up in the dining room, and the munchkins have been playing a complicated game of "bears" in it for over a week. Don't know the rules of the game, or even why they called it "bears", but if it gives me time to catch up on the Real Housewives and Interior Therapy, I don't much care. Viva la fort!
All this comes around to the fact that my family is really, really not ready for school. School means the fort will be taken down to make room for homework. Long mornings and afternoons playing with their friends in the woods or biking around the community will be replaced with rushing around to get ready for the bus and no one around to play with on the weekends because of soccer games and gymnastics practice. Adventures will be relegated to the weekends, if they happen much at all. I mean, have you seen how crowded the Science Center or Mt. Vernon is on the weekends? No thank you.
So, to the other parents who are counting down the hours and minutes until their sweet bunnies get on the bus, I'm sorry but I can't join your enthusiasm this year. This is DQ's last year of elementary school, and middle school looms on the horizon. The WMB has just gotten back into firetrucks and ambulances, and I don't want that to go away and be replaced with Pokemon or Ninjago. I want them to be up a tree, not at a desk, for just a little bit longer. I want them to be "little" for as long as possible... So summer, please last a little longer. We're still having too much fun!
Monday, August 5, 2013
"Simplicity Parenting"?
In an attempt to improve my mind and get out of my chick-lit and mommy-lit rut, I ran across a book called "Simplicity Parenting".
Now, I'm not normally into parenting self-help books (or, using the word "parent" as a verb) unless said book is filled with sarcastic humor and includes several inventive cocktail recipes with instructions on how to train your children to make the cocktails for you. Preferably shaken and not stirred, and with a whimsical garnish of fruit and little umbrellas.
But, this book seemed right up my alley. You see, I've been looking around lately at the parents around me, and I'm noticing that we're starting to fall more and more into two groups: (1) the parents that are clamoring to sign their children up for every extra-curricular activity and competitive sport (preferably, an expensive travel team) that may give their precious off-spring a better than average chance in hell of getting a college scholarship to Harvard (or will, at least, impress the other mommies and daddies with their own dedication to enriching their sweetum's life experiences at the age of 8, savings account be damned!) or (2) moms and dads like me that are so darn sick of the very idea of living out of our minivans while shuttling our wee-ones to pee-wee t-ball practice at Orioles camp and ballet lessons for 4 year olds at Julliard that we just want to collapse on our hand-me-down sofas with a cold one and watch bad reality TV for 3 days straight while our kiddos decorate our driveway with chalk and sprayed Capri-Sun done Jackson Pollack style, with a few dropped Cheez-its for texture.
Basically, I needed confirmation that my way laidback childrearing style was not going to permenently destroy my children's chances of getting into Anne Arundel Community College (since, at this point, that's all they'll be able to afford on the money we've set aside for them in their college savings accounts). Or, cause them to fail at life and boomerang back home to life in our basement when they're 40 years old, collecting Star Trek memorabilia as their retirement savings plan and playing on-line games involving avatars for 36 hours straight while yelling upstairs for more pizza and Mountain Dew.
But, this book seemed to confirm what my husband and I decided to do when raising our kids--let them play outside for hours a day, let boredom be the push they need for creativity, eat dinner together every single night, and mostly, to let children be children. No push for highly competititve organized sports before adolescence, limited access to screens (TV, computer, and hand held video games), and an overall drum circle and Kumbaya feeling to the home. I'm not saying I'm about to go all commune on everyone, and start nicknaming my kids after rainbows and unicorns, but it did convince me that I'm not the only parent in the world who's wondering what the heck happened to the childhoods most of us remember, where we'd disappear for hours while riding our bikes with friends, or creating a whole world of wonder in the backyard or woods.
The only problem with what the book required for "simplicity" was the severe culling of toys and belongings. And, I do mean, SEVERE. Keeping only a few books and maybe a dozen toys (which did not involve batteries and only the minimal amount of plastic) to encourage creativity and imagination.
Now, the super organized and super clean part of me got all revved up with this! I could finally throw all the crap away that my kids hoard in their rooms and in their playroom. All the broken crayons, fast-food toys, blinking bleeping noise-makers from hell that well meaning (or revenge seeking) gift givers have joyfully handed over to us in colorful birthday or holiday wrapping. And, all the toys that people give us when they decide to clean their own playrooms and garages and "just thought your kids would love this!"
I was imagining lovely cubbies filled with color coordinated and labelled baskets of Legos and matchbox cars and toy horses. Maybe a pretty chalkboard painted wall with an attached table for childlike crafting with new boxes of washable markers and colored pencils. A nice rug from Pottery Barn Kids, with some soft seating and a pretty non-chipped bookcase with only a few wholesome books waiting to be read out loud by their sweet tempered, relaxed hippie momma after a snack of quinoa salad and vegan pita chips with organic humus...
Then, I woke up.
To even begin this dream of simplicity, I would have to rent a dumpster. And, possibly request the services of those nice guys from 1-800-GOTJUNK. Forget my earlier thoughts of a couple of leaf bags and a snow shovel--these bunnies of mine have managed tohoard collect a pile of My Little Ponies, Zoobles, Littlest Pet Shop, monster trucks, and every form and type of construction and/or emergency vehicle known on the planet. I swear I didn't buy these things, so they're obviously breeding in the dark when no one's looking.
And, to make things worse, the viral meme is true--Mexican drug lords could learn a thing or two from me from my ability to smuggle a bag of crumpled art projects, pilfered pinecones, painted rocks, and broken toys out to the trash without being detected.
What makes things worse is--my munchkins are on "high alert" since they've been watching me peruse Pinterest for ideas on "organizing craft supplies" and "modern and miminal kids' rooms". They're requesting me to homeschool them more to keep a sniper's eye on me when I'm cleaning the house then because they wish to experience a Classical Education at home. And, while they both love the fact I read to them at lease 30-60 minutes every night, they want to be read Horrible Harry and Animal Ark with a side of Nancy Drew and American Girl mysteries. Any attempt at The Secret Garden, Caddie Woodlawn, or Treasure Island has been met with dramatic sighs and groans that can be heard down the block.
In the end, I think what the book was encouraging us parents to do was find that all elusive "balance". The balance between work and family; TV watching and tree climbing; the modern American lifestyle and an old-fashioned idyllic childhood.
It's going to be a challenge, but I do intend to simply our household this fall. To clear out our kiddy-clutter and reclaim more of the house for the adults (who actually pay the darn mortgage, yet control the least amount of square footage in the house!). To get a little "old fashioned" on their little kid butts and show them that less can really be more. More time to play. More time to snuggle. More time to be kids in this world that wants them to grow up too fast.
Wish me luck--I think it'll be a bumpy ride...
Now, I'm not normally into parenting self-help books (or, using the word "parent" as a verb) unless said book is filled with sarcastic humor and includes several inventive cocktail recipes with instructions on how to train your children to make the cocktails for you. Preferably shaken and not stirred, and with a whimsical garnish of fruit and little umbrellas.
But, this book seemed right up my alley. You see, I've been looking around lately at the parents around me, and I'm noticing that we're starting to fall more and more into two groups: (1) the parents that are clamoring to sign their children up for every extra-curricular activity and competitive sport (preferably, an expensive travel team) that may give their precious off-spring a better than average chance in hell of getting a college scholarship to Harvard (or will, at least, impress the other mommies and daddies with their own dedication to enriching their sweetum's life experiences at the age of 8, savings account be damned!) or (2) moms and dads like me that are so darn sick of the very idea of living out of our minivans while shuttling our wee-ones to pee-wee t-ball practice at Orioles camp and ballet lessons for 4 year olds at Julliard that we just want to collapse on our hand-me-down sofas with a cold one and watch bad reality TV for 3 days straight while our kiddos decorate our driveway with chalk and sprayed Capri-Sun done Jackson Pollack style, with a few dropped Cheez-its for texture.
Basically, I needed confirmation that my way laidback childrearing style was not going to permenently destroy my children's chances of getting into Anne Arundel Community College (since, at this point, that's all they'll be able to afford on the money we've set aside for them in their college savings accounts). Or, cause them to fail at life and boomerang back home to life in our basement when they're 40 years old, collecting Star Trek memorabilia as their retirement savings plan and playing on-line games involving avatars for 36 hours straight while yelling upstairs for more pizza and Mountain Dew.
But, this book seemed to confirm what my husband and I decided to do when raising our kids--let them play outside for hours a day, let boredom be the push they need for creativity, eat dinner together every single night, and mostly, to let children be children. No push for highly competititve organized sports before adolescence, limited access to screens (TV, computer, and hand held video games), and an overall drum circle and Kumbaya feeling to the home. I'm not saying I'm about to go all commune on everyone, and start nicknaming my kids after rainbows and unicorns, but it did convince me that I'm not the only parent in the world who's wondering what the heck happened to the childhoods most of us remember, where we'd disappear for hours while riding our bikes with friends, or creating a whole world of wonder in the backyard or woods.
The only problem with what the book required for "simplicity" was the severe culling of toys and belongings. And, I do mean, SEVERE. Keeping only a few books and maybe a dozen toys (which did not involve batteries and only the minimal amount of plastic) to encourage creativity and imagination.
Now, the super organized and super clean part of me got all revved up with this! I could finally throw all the crap away that my kids hoard in their rooms and in their playroom. All the broken crayons, fast-food toys, blinking bleeping noise-makers from hell that well meaning (or revenge seeking) gift givers have joyfully handed over to us in colorful birthday or holiday wrapping. And, all the toys that people give us when they decide to clean their own playrooms and garages and "just thought your kids would love this!"
I was imagining lovely cubbies filled with color coordinated and labelled baskets of Legos and matchbox cars and toy horses. Maybe a pretty chalkboard painted wall with an attached table for childlike crafting with new boxes of washable markers and colored pencils. A nice rug from Pottery Barn Kids, with some soft seating and a pretty non-chipped bookcase with only a few wholesome books waiting to be read out loud by their sweet tempered, relaxed hippie momma after a snack of quinoa salad and vegan pita chips with organic humus...
Then, I woke up.
To even begin this dream of simplicity, I would have to rent a dumpster. And, possibly request the services of those nice guys from 1-800-GOTJUNK. Forget my earlier thoughts of a couple of leaf bags and a snow shovel--these bunnies of mine have managed to
And, to make things worse, the viral meme is true--Mexican drug lords could learn a thing or two from me from my ability to smuggle a bag of crumpled art projects, pilfered pinecones, painted rocks, and broken toys out to the trash without being detected.
What makes things worse is--my munchkins are on "high alert" since they've been watching me peruse Pinterest for ideas on "organizing craft supplies" and "modern and miminal kids' rooms". They're requesting me to homeschool them more to keep a sniper's eye on me when I'm cleaning the house then because they wish to experience a Classical Education at home. And, while they both love the fact I read to them at lease 30-60 minutes every night, they want to be read Horrible Harry and Animal Ark with a side of Nancy Drew and American Girl mysteries. Any attempt at The Secret Garden, Caddie Woodlawn, or Treasure Island has been met with dramatic sighs and groans that can be heard down the block.
In the end, I think what the book was encouraging us parents to do was find that all elusive "balance". The balance between work and family; TV watching and tree climbing; the modern American lifestyle and an old-fashioned idyllic childhood.
It's going to be a challenge, but I do intend to simply our household this fall. To clear out our kiddy-clutter and reclaim more of the house for the adults (who actually pay the darn mortgage, yet control the least amount of square footage in the house!). To get a little "old fashioned" on their little kid butts and show them that less can really be more. More time to play. More time to snuggle. More time to be kids in this world that wants them to grow up too fast.
Wish me luck--I think it'll be a bumpy ride...
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