Look at Me

I'm going to try and write this without sounding holier-than-thou, preachy, or a like complete bitch.

I'm worried about our kids.

This morning, I read the horrifying story of the high school student who tried to light himself on fire in a suicide attempt at high school here in the Denver area.  I don't know this student.  I don't know this family.  There is a good chance that there is a mother who is sitting in the waiting room of a hospital for news of her son's condition, in utter disbelief that something like this has happened because she thought she had been doing everything possible to help with his issues.

There is the possibility that she knew this might happen and felt powerless to stop it.

And there is the possibility that she has been completely blindsided by this because her kid either hid his issues from her so well that she didn't know about them OR that she may not have been paying attention.

Again, I don't live in their home.  So I don't know.

I'll tell you what I do know and that is what I see surrounding my children at school.  My kids ages go from early elementary to pre-teen so I see a variety of situations that make me stop and go, "Huh?"  And let me tell you...I am one of those people who like to believe the best in everyone so when I see children being treated the way they sometimes are....

It shocks the hell out of me.

Here is the bottom line:  You don't have to physically hit a child to be an abusive parent.  When I see a child walk out the door to go to school in -18 degree weather in a t-shirt and shoes with no socks...that's abuse to me.  When my daughter comes home and tells me that some of her friends don't eat all day long because their divorced parents are fighting over who should put money in their lunch account...that is abuse to me.  When you have no idea where your 8-year-old ends up after school every day because you can't be bothered to set up childcare for him or her and they're wandering the street alone looking for some place to go...you're damn lucky you still have a kid.

I read these articles about school shootings, suicide attempts, and other things I just can't wrap my brain around and I wonder what happened.  I would honestly like to think that there are parents out there who are completely heartbroken because they have done everything they can to help a child who couldn't be saved.  But the truth is that I look around at some of the situations surrounding my kids' friends and I wonder if one of them could be next.

Just because no one was paying attention.

I'm not a perfect mom.  Far from it.  No one is.  My house is a wreck, I have four loads of laundry that need to be folded, and we had take-out three times this weekend.  I have made mistakes and I will make more.  I guess there are some ways I probably coddle my kids too much (I don't think I'm a total helicopter parent, but who knows?  I may be to some people).  I'm a single mom who is outnumbered and, yes, there are times when I fall short.  While I would like to think that I will never be a parent sitting in a hospital, stunned with the knowledge that one of my children has purposely done something to harm themselves or another person...I'm not stupid enough to think I am completely immune. 

But there is something I think I do pretty damn well as a parent.

I listen.

Even though I am outnumbered, I look each one of my kids in the eye and ask how their day was.  If there is an issue, we talk about whether they want me to step in or whether they'd like to try and handle something on their own.  They tell me about their friends who are having a hard time and we discuss what we can possibly do to help.  They express frustration about specific teachers they have and we talk about what should be done about it.  I have told them many times that if they have a problem they don't always have to talk to me about it - there are other adults surrounding us that I am completely comfortable with my kids confiding in.

Will there ever come a day when they feel like they're pinned in with so many problems and no outlet?  I hope not.  I hope that they always know that I'm here - I am their constant - for anything they might need.  Because I watch these other young kids who are sad, confused, and behaving in a way that just says one thing.

Look at me.

When I see these kids, these friends of my children, I hug them and they hug back.  Their faces look pale and tired and they always seem a little on edge - like they're fearful of what might come at them next.  I lay awake at night wondering if I should be the one to step in in any way or if it's even my business.

And then I wonder...if I don't...am I just as at fault as the parents?

Famous for Nothing

As I was making my kids' breakfast this morning, I had the Today Show on, which I sometimes do, so that I could hear Al Roker say, "And here's what's happening in your neck-of-the-woods" and get my weather report.  Again, as I sometimes do, I listened with one ear to some of the issues and stories they were reporting and I am embarrassed to admit this, but I stopped what I was doing to watch the story on Kate Gosselin.

Don't get me wrong.  It's not because I like her or have ever been a fan of her former show, Kate Plus Eight.  It's because that in last few years, her attempt to get back into the media has been like a train wreck that I can't stop watching.

As a mom, I watched in horror as she brought her two 13-year-olds on the show so that they could talk about how completely "fine" they were after a childhood spent in front of the camera.  And I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as the two girls remained silent on either side of their mother, who continued to insist how much they love the exposure.  Kate said how she feels like she has to defend them against what people in the media say and clear up all of the misconceptions.

Kate.  I've got news for you.  If you'd stop going on all of these shows, appearing in magazines, and get a real job...I don't think people would remember you for five more minutes and, therefore, wouldn't talk smack about your family.

But you probably know that, don't you?

Of course, at the end of the interview, Savannah Guthrie asked if they would want to do another reality TV show, and both girls replied with an enthusiastic "yes," adding that they'd like to do the same thing, only more "fabulous."

And that's when I really wanted to reach through my screen and thump old Kate on the head.

I'm just going to say it.  I'm appalled with some of the kids belonging to the same generation as my own.  Their desire to be famous for absolutely nothing just astounds me.  Gone are the days of children saying they want a gymnasium named after them because they flew on the space shuttle or that they have dreams of headlines screaming their names because they cured cancer.

They don't want to do anything.  And they want everyone to know it.

It's my generation's fault.  I mean, we're the ones who have shown this is possible.  All of these reality TV shows that make people famous because they procreated or - gasp - went out on a date (or twenty-seven within two days) are what our kids think they have to look forward to.  Why go to college or do something to inspire others when all it takes is a carefully leaked sex tape to put you on the map?

I actually had a conversation with someone not too long ago whose daughter is going to graduate from high school this year.  I asked the mother what the girl's plans were - job? college?  maybe a trade school? - and she she sighed and said, "I don't know.  She really just wants to be famous.  But she really doesn't know how to do anything." 

I think I missed that option on my list of majors in college.  I wonder if it still would have required all of those gym credits? 

This is actually a topic I'm somewhat sensitive to right now.  While I don't think that my family is about to be thrust into the spotlight, I did just write and release a memoir about the death of my husband.  Because my children are a huge part of my life, there are stories in there about them.

And this may have been a mistake on my part, but...I didn't ask them their permission.

A little Kate-like?  Maybe. 

My guilt about this grew two weeks ago when I was trying to figure out a passage to read at my first book signing.  I pulled my son aside and asked him if I could read a section that included a story about him when he was four.

"That's in your book?" he said, his face turning red.

"Yes, it is," I tried to explain.  "But don't you see how important it is?  Can't you see how telling it might help someone else?"

"Whatever," he replied.  "But you cannot read that if I'm there."

Gulp.

On the flip side, I feel like I did something that other moms may not have done.  I listened to my kid.  I chose to write this book and, therefore, I'm choosing to take the credit and the heat for it.  Some kids might revel in the spotlight...mine don't.  The idea of being famous, frankly, appalls my kids.  They've got bigger, better fish to fry.  I know this because right after I had this conversation with my son he asked me, "Mom?  Did you know there is such a thing as a LEGO Engineer?"

I smiled and said, "Go for it."

Elf on a Shelf: Letting Our Creative Skills Shine

I know that the Elf on a Shelf is all the rage, but I'm one of those slacker parents who refuses to participate.  My reason for this is threefold: 

1.  I try not to do anything that takes away even a few precious minutes of sleep.
2.  I'm not that creative at 11:00 at night.
3.  It seems that many ideas require a mess of some sort and I'm not on board with that.

Yes, my children will be deprived of the whole Elf on a Shelf experience.  But that's okay.  They need something to talk to their therapist about anyway.

I've seen so many pictures from friends and family members, showcasing their creative talents with this little doll who, frankly, creeps me out a little bit.  It's already a little strange that we tell kids, "Don't talk to strangers, but if you happen to see a large fat man dressed in fur in the living room...he's okay."  Now we're telling them, "If you make a mess you'll be punished, but if this little troll in tights comes around and spills cereal all over the place for fun every day for a month...you should be really excited"...that's a little odd to me.

Of course, there will always be someone who takes the merriment a little too far.  Some parent who comes home from Happy Hour with their co-workers and decides to have a little extra fun with the Elf.  Some Mom who has finally hit her limit and had the nervous breakdown she has deserved for a good long while.  And definitely some Dads who decide that just perching some stupid elf up on a shelf just isn't good enough.

My hat's off to  you.

This one had to be a dad.  No way would some mom have one of Santa's elves handling her feminine hygiene products.  The best part is...the joke is on him.  Because if I were her...I'd make my husband explain what those are used for when the kids ask.  And you know they will.

 

However this was intended, I can tell you right now that I've seen enough Law & Order SVU to know that whatever that elf is about to do to that monkey is not consensual. 

I could see this being a really cute idea.  Until about 3:00 in the morning when one of my three kids goes into the bathroom half asleep and either pees all over the place because they're not paying attention to the fact that the lid is permanently down...or pees all over the place because they can't get the toilet unwrapped.  Either way, it's going to interrupt my sleep.  So I'm going to give this idea a pass.

Ahhhh...yes.  The creepiest combination in the world:  Elf on a Shelf and Miley Cyrus.  Whoever came up with this one needs a little therapy.

Now, this one by far is my favorite.  Ol' JT and DJ Master Elf re-enacting one of the funniest Saturday Night Live skits of all-time.  Whoever thought of this one is a creative genius. (And no, I'm not going to name the skit.  My mom reads this blog.  It has to do with something in a box.  Google it.)

It seems that many of these Elf on a Shelf scenes would not be possible without the help of Barbie.  And as is the case with this unfortunate scene, made by the dad who hopefully took a cab home from wherever he's been, she is not usually cast as the happy homemaker or the properly dressed doctor...but the stripper using what looks like a banana hanger as a pole.  .

Again...funny, but I'd be forced to have a conversation with my kids I'm hoping to avoid during the holiday season.  I'm trying to save the menage a trois discussion for a more appropriate time - like my grandmother's deathbed or just before I drop my kids off at Sunday School.

Don't kid yourselves, people.  Profiling can happen anywhere to anyone.

I swear...there's always one guy in every office....

The Top Ten Worst Holiday Dishes Ever Served

Most of us have been served some sort of Jell-O salad at a holiday feast at some point in our lives.  Or something pickled on the table that we don't quite recognize. But those dishes are nothing compared to the following recipes I hope never find their way to my house:

Let's start with the appetizer.  Nothing says "holiday cheer" like a wreath made out of pigs in a blanket.  And whoever was creative enough to put this dish together, also thought to recycle what looks like the red wrappers off of some Baby Bell Cheese to make a festive bow.  Truly an inspiration that should grace tables across the country this year.

 Is it a dessert?  Is it an appetizer?  Who wouldn't want a little Velveeta Cheesecake on their holiday buffet table this year!  So versatile, and those walnuts add a little crunch for the "nut" in all of us.

After digging into those appetizers, it's time for a little refreshment.  So who wouldn't want a little Turkey and Gravy Soda to get those taste buds warmed up for the main event?  And since we ALL love fruitcake...why shouldn't we liquify and carbonate it?

And now it's time for the main event.  It's true...I'm a girl who loves her bacon.  But this turkey doesn't look like it's going to give me the usual Thanksgiving Day nap that I usually have...more the Thanksgiving Day stroke I'm trying to avoid. 

 Of course, we're not all meat lovers!  Which is why this stuffed tofurkey can come in handy.  And while this looks less healthy to me and more like something that might keep me...um...blocked for a few days, I admire those of you who choose this over the hormone injected fat bomb the rest of us are eating.  You've got tofesticles.

Now, what's a little tofurkey without the sides?  Even those health nuts won't be able to resist Paula Deen's Fried Stuffing on a Stick.  Wait.  Did she put corn in there?



 

 It seems just plain silly to waste time eating each item on your plate separately.  After all...there is football to be watched! While I appreciate what seems to be the efficiency of this meal (putting your entire dinner into layers in one cylinder and then oozing it out), I really don't need this preview of what my intestines will look like while digesting Thanksgiving dinner. 

 Ready for a little something sweet?  Well, we're not!  It's time for Turkey Cake!  Layers of meat combined with stuffing, mashed potatoes, and a sweet potato topping...it's like a little slice of heaven.  Bring on the whipped gravy!

 Whoever came up with this little delight must have watched a little too much Steel Magnolias.  Nothing says "yummy dessert" (or a fun salmonella prank) like red frosting on the inside of a turkey cake. I call the drumstick!

 Like its Thanksgiving cousin, the Turducken, the Cherpumple is a whole lot of layered goodness.  A three layered pie/cake with cherry, apple, and pumpkin filling...it will be like a little party in your mouth....before you slip into a diabetic coma. 

 

Happy Holidays!

Act Your Age

I'll be the first to admit that I don't act my age.  In fact, to the strangers I pass on the street, I probably come across closer to 90 than my actual 37 years.

I know that it's common for most people to try and stay as young as possible for as long as possible and I really don't get it.  Because, frankly, I'm of the opinion that if I can just go ahead and speed up the aging process, each day brings me closer and closer to one of those beds that sits up for you and props your knees at a comfortable angle.

Heaven.

But I know I'm not the norm.  I see the constant search for the fountain of youth everywhere - from my own social circle to the people I stalk in US Weekly.  And the older I get the more I roll my eyes at what people think they can get away with and still look good.

For example:  When I saw 55-year-old Madonna sporting a grill to a red carpet event...I got a headache my eyes rolled so hard.  Very few people can get away with wearing something like that (or, let's be honest...no one can), but I'm thinking that a woman who is only 10 years younger than my own mother should, by now, have better sense than Miley Cyrus.  And it made me wonder what her teenage daughter thought of this look.  I know that the Madonna family is probably more progressive than my own, but I'm just wondering how my daughter would react if I pulled into the carpool lane at school and flashed a golden smile.

I'm thinking she might be a tad embarrassed.

The other day I was at the gym (not to turn back the clock, just to work out a little and make sure my
joints are limber enough to handle the adjustable bed I'm dreaming of) and on one of the monitors, they were playing a Jennifer Lopez video.  Now, I'll be the first to admit that I've never been a huge fan of hers, but I can respect how she has climbed her way to the top.  She seems like she works hard and is a pretty decent (if somewhat fickle) person.

But.

The video had her in all of this "gangsta" clothing and the set had buildings spray painted with "Jenny from the Block" all over the place.

Sweetie,  you're 44-years-old and worth an estimated $300 million.  You can now afford a pair of pants that fit and I'm guessing you're not hanging on "da block" without some serious security.  It might be time to hang up your brass knuckles and relax in your gated 'hood.

And then there was Ricky Martin on the Ellen DeGeneres show.  He still looks good, right? Aging well.  But when you're out of breath just watching your back-up dancers and your main topic of conversation with Ellen is about your cholesterol level...I don't know if that vest with all of the zippers and those high-top kicks are all that age-appropriate for you.  You might start considering transitioning over to covers of old classics rather than trying to live la vida loca.  It's time.

You've probably read this whole thing and are wondering, "Who is this woman to pass judgement?"  And you're right.  I'm sitting here in some old worn-out sweats and pretty proud of myself that I managed to get my mascara on this morning (yesterday, as I was putting it on, I sneezed and then spent the day looking like I was wearing spider glasses frames).  I haven't made it to the gym and the only thing I'm wearing that says "young" is the zit on my chin.

But the thing is, every time I see people desperately trying to turn back the hands of time, the first thing I think is, "Grow up."

And then I roll my eyes, sit back in my recliner, pull my cardigan sweater around me because for some reason I feel a draft, reach for my can of Ensure...

...and change the channel.

Why Public Bathrooms Frighten and Confuse Me

I find going to the bathroom confusing.  I thought for sure that wouldn't happen for at least another fifty years or so.  I'm okay at home.  Home, I can handle.  It's when I go out in public...that's when trouble starts. 

But there you have it - I'm a thirty-seven year old woman who worries that every time she goes to the bathroom, she won't know how to do it right.

Actually, I guess age has nothing to do with it because my kids find it confusing, too.  And I've seen women of all ages in the restroom, looking bewildered and frustrated and wondering how all of this is supposed to work.  In fact just the other day, I was standing in the restroom at Red Robin, waiting for my youngest daughter to come out of the stall and watched as a woman around my age stood in front of the faucet and waited impatiently for the water to come on.  And I finally decided to throw her a bone.

"Uh.  You have to use the handle to turn that on."

She looked mortified and then began to laugh as she turned on the water the "old fashioned way" by actually twisting a fixture to make the water flow.  And then she turned cautiously toward the paper towel dispenser and I knew she was thinking, "Now how does this damn thing work?"

I'm a big fan of technology.  Love it.  I want to hug my DVR every night after I put the kids to bed and I can watch the television shows I've saved up all week in uninterrupted silence.  I have about two apps on my iPhone because I can't really figure it out, but I really enjoy being able to get my weather when I want it and read my Facebook newsfeed as I sit in the carpool lane.  Technology is awesome.  But I'm starting to think that it has its place.

And it's not in the bathroom.

The thing is...it's not standard everywhere you go.  Not every bathroom has the same set-up.  When I walk in, I have to silently evaluate everything so that I don't look like a complete fool.

"Okay, motion-activated sink.  Manual paper-towel.  Auto flush.  Got it."

It still amazes me that my children will use public restrooms at all because for a while they were all absolutely terrified to use the toilet.  There they would sit, just doing their business, knowing that one little move would send the automatic toilet into a flush with so much suction, I'm surprised I didn't lose one of them in the mall plumbing. 

Of course, there is the other side of that - the five minute wait for it to flush so that you won't be one of "those people" who leave their toilet unattended.

I can't tell you how much time I've wasted, standing in front of sinks, waving my hands around like a germy mime, only to have the water turn on just as I've given up and started to move to another one.  Then I'll rush back to the original sink, hoping to just catch enough to rinse my hands off, only to have it stop flowing the second my hands aim for the water.

I know this is supposed to be helping our water consumption, but frankly I just don't see it.

And then there's the dance.  You know...the one that we have to do to get something to dry our hands off.  We wave in front of that little red light.  Nothing.  We start moving our entire upper body.  Nope.  Then in desperation, we start doing the tango until one little square pops out and we end up drying our hands on our pants anyway.

Again, I know that this whole automated system is supposed to help the environment.  And I'm all for that kind of stuff.  But the truth is, I'm dehydrated because I'm scared that too much liquid will force me into a bathroom I don't understand.  I feel old, thinking about the time I've wasted waiting for something to flush, run, or pop out.  And I'm worried that we're raising a generation of children that, should they come upon some sort of bathroom fixture with a handle, they won't know what to do.

Oh, well.  I guess they can always Google it.  Gotta love technology.

I'm Too Young to be Old and Too Old to Be Young

I had a hard time getting to sleep last night because I was so excited about this morning.

"This is it," I thought, staring at my ceiling, my body charged with anticipation.  "It's finally going to happen."

I wasn't talking about my birthday.  It's not Christmas.  I wasn't even thinking about a hot date.

My carpets were getting cleaned.

When did I get to this point?  When holidays and vacations meant exhaustion and work and freshly cleaned carpets were something I dreamed about at night with heady anticipation?

I'm not sure, but I think it was mid-way through year 35 when I came home early from a weekend at a five-star hotel because I couldn't wait to get my trees in my backyard trimmed.

Thirty-seven is a weird age because in some ways I feel so old (thus, the steam-cleaning excitement) but still young enough to want my mom's opinion on everything.  I feel too old for dating (or too tired of it is probably more accurate) yet too young to declare myself single for the rest of my life.  I feel completely ready to retire, but don't have the funds for it.

I'm very conflicted.

My kids are getting older and I keep asking myself, "Wait.  When did that happen?  How is possible that my daughter looks like a teenager when I myself am only 19-years-old?"  I'm to the point where a Law & Order marathon on TV has me much more excited than the thought of getting myself together and actually going somewhere (it's just so much work). Several years ago the thought of leaving my house without make-up - even to just go to the grocery store - would have never entered my mind.  Now I look at my make-up bag and think, "I wonder if I still know how to put that stuff on?"

I got together with some elementary school friends this summer and we remembered times past like they were yesterday...and then started comparing age spots.  We talked about who was divorced (which shocked me that we were old enough to be on our second marriages - which is ridiculous considering I could potentially be married a second time thanks to the early departure of my own husband), people who were now educated (and old enough) to be considered experts in whatever field they were in...and then the conversation switched to wondering if we still had it in us to participate in a greased watermelon contest like we did when we were 10.

It reminds me of that part in Fried Green Tomatoes when Kathy Bates says, "I'm too young to be old and I'm too old to be young."

I hear ya, sister.  And there are days that ramming the into the bumper of the younger generation sounds pretty good to me, too.

I played golf with my dad yesterday and when we checked in, the teenager at the counter asked me, "Senior discount?"

I was this close to putting my finger in his face and saying, "Listen you little whipper-snapper...."

Now, I know that I don't look like a senior (however I did want to come home and throw away the new anti-aging cream I've been using), but apparently I've hit that age that to the younger generation, just means old.  And as my dad was paying his green fee - using his senior discount - I started thinking about how he gets discounts for being older and my kids get discounts for being younger.

But I am apparently getting penalized for being 37 by paying full price no matter what I'm doing.

Dammit.

However, on the glass is half-full side, I'm just glad I'm not a 37-year-old guy.

At least I still have ladies night at any age (if I ever decide to go out again).