Summer Denial

I am in complete denial that school is ending in 2 weeks. Maybe it's because the weather has been cool and crisp up until this past weekend (when it all of a sudden felt like the Amazon around here!). Maybe it's because I've been too busy to really think about it. Maybe it's because I can't fathom it. Yes, I think the later is the case. I can't imagine not having any time to myself, my kids around me 24-7 (except for those brief moments when their in camp), my house becoming messier then it is, my refrigerator becoming emptier then it is, and my body becoming un-showered more then it already is. I have not been able to get in the mind set of summer. The lazy days. The 'hanging out'. The 'trying to keep the kids busy so they don't fight with each other all day' mentality.

Oy, and my 10 yr. old, very soon to be 11 yr, old, is turning into a testy, fiesty pre-adolescent. Everything pisses him off, and he won't let anything go! Oy, no wonder I haven't thought about summer. My 5 yr. old, soon to be 6 yr old, however, is doing absolutely phenomenal! Since I started this blog, my ADHD fears have evaporated, and his behavior has been exceptional in school, and at home. He has really turned a corner. But that's another story.

Anyway, back to summer. I have so many things I was planning to do, what was I thinking! I want to empty the garage of all the crap we piled back there, I want to start exercising every day, I want to read a book! Huh, who am I kidding?! This is probably one of the last posts I'll be able to write! It's like some Twilight Zone episode where time stops, and you wake up one morning and 3 months have gone by, the hair on your legs is like 2 inches long, and your clothes are all wrinkled because you've been wearing the same thing all summer, and your head is covered with dreadlocks because you haven't washed or brushed your hair since spring.

OK, I need a plan to deal. Lot's of TV in the AM so I can exercise on the bike and shower (that means me getting up at the crack of dawn - yikes this is becoming too fantastical already!). Day trips during the day and visits to the pool in the afternoon. Separate them as much as possible (which is not very possible) and more TV in the late PM to catch up on 'me' stuff (yeah right, that's when I crash in front of the TV in exhaustion). I just have to remember - the summers go by quick. This is the only summer I'll spend with them when they are 10 and 5. I can never go back. Keep perspective. Keep perspective. OK. The panic attack has quelled. The only thing missing from my master summer plan is the daily pitcher of margaritas at my hip at all times. Ahh, now the summer is feeling way more palatable.

A Soccer Win For Me

Whew, what a victory. My little son has been having trouble with soccer and this morning we went. He played. He had fun. No complaints.

You see he's an incredible soccer player - pardon my bragging but he's only 5 and very quick, agile, good with his feet, and really understands the strategy of passing and teamwork. While the other kids are spinning around looking at the sky, playing in mud puddles and catching butterflies, he's juggling the ball, yelling 'OFF SIDES' and 'THAT'S A PENALTY' and scoring goals.

However, our nemesis has been his shin guards. He finds them completely uncomfortable and itchy; so much so that he has quit in the middle of several games because he can't take it any more and marches back the car. Now I imagine that his discomfort is more them just 'shin guard' related. I am sure there are psychological elements at work: stress, social and internal pressure to perform, over stimulation, intimidation (there are some equally if not better and more aggressive players) and just pain old exhaustion. So, I think the shin guard discomfort is more symbolic then anything.

Anyway, every Sat. morning I wake up early and immediately feel anxious wondering what trouble I will encounter that day. I have tried many different strategies to deal with this. We have bought him about 5 different pair of shin guards, have used the hard, mean, angry line ('don't be a quitter!'), have used guilt ('you team is depending on you! They need you!), and even bribes ('if you play I'll get you ice cream after the game'). All of which have failed miserably and ended up with everyone in tears.

Finally, this morning we hit the perfecta. Armed with his newest and most comfortable pair of shin guards we purposely arrived late, missing the preliminary practice and making it just in time for the game. Success! He played like a champ with little shin guard struggle. Now we just have to make it through 2 or 3 more games and then the season is over. It's amazing what a 25 minute soccer game can do to ones ego. Forget his for a moment, I'm just psyched I didn't have to crawl out of bed at some ungodly hour on a Sat. morning for nothing!

Blog Design OCD

OK, so if you haven't noticed I have been fooling around with my Blog page lately. Since I am a fledgling blogger, I am finding it fun to manipulate my homepage, but I am becoming a bit obsessed with it. I have changed my profile about 2 zillion times. And when I check out other blog pages, they all seem really cool - well designed, clever, artsy. Mine looks, well, blah. Just a regular, run-of-the-mill, blogger page. How do you guys get all the cool graphics? I'm learning, but it's slow going. And, I can tell, I could spend all day on this if I could. If anyone has any suggestions, I'm all ears.

Mother's Day Rant

What a crummy Mother's Day. Excuse the wallowing in self pity for a moment, but this has not been my idea of what Mother's Day should be: no Hallmark picture perfects moments, no sleeping in late, no breakfast in bed.

Firstly, we had company last night and I proceeded to drink probably a whole bottle of white wine by myself. Then, just as I was about to fall into a deep, drunken slumber, my husband picks a fight with me and we argue until like 2:00 in the morning. Meanwhile, neither of us have been sleeping very well since he got back from being out of town because the princess and his pea gets woken at the slightest movement I make - I feel like I have to be mummified in order not to disturb him.

Now I have a huge hangover, am completely exhausted, and can hardly think straight let alone write. I keep on pressing the wrong keys while typing which is really irritating because it's taking me like 25 minutes to write 2 sentences.

OK, so, after no sleep, a hangover, and now in a stinky frame of mind because I'm pissed off at my husband I had to get up early to truck my 5 yr. old out the 'burbs' for a birthday party. My husband can't do it because he has to take my other son to another party. So I haul my tired, sick and angry ass out of bed and hightail it up to strip mall heaven in Rockville, MD. Luckily they had pizza there so I wolfed down some greasy, heavy, fattening junk food to quell my stomach. It was actually quite affective (thankfully for everyone - it was that or puke). The little guy was fairly well behaved at the party, though not perfect (no, that could never happen, even on Mother's Day). Of course he had to go where no kid is supposed to wander, which at The Little Gym seems like a feat in and of itself.

Then I come home and have to take my 10 yr. old son to yet another party (what's with all the non-Mother's Day parties?). So I drop him off at this weird scene (I don't know the family that well). The Dad hosting the party is living in this small, garden level apartment and the place is filled with junk, and photos and papers line every wall, floor to ceiling, and there is a makeshift barber chair in the living room, while 2 or 3 weird men in their fifties are there BBQing some hamburgers. I admit I'm a overly paranoid parent, but this scene gave me the willies.

Meanwhile my husband has been drifting around in a fog, trying to be nice, but I'm too tired and annoyed to appreciate it. Yes, he bought me some nice gifts. But one thing you have to know about me is that I am not very materialistic, and would much prefer an action over a gift (like breakfast in bed). And one thing you have to know about my husband is he is the premier metrosexual. He is the prototype. He loves shopping, nice clothes, nice accoutrements, wears nice smelling cologne, and has the bigger closet. No he's not gay, he just wishes he could be without having to have sex with men. So his nice gifts don't mean that much to me right now, especially after being a complete buzz kill.

There are a few more hours of Mother's Day left, so maybe the day will be salvaged. However, I doubt it. I think the only way this day could end on a good note is to get the kids to bed early, have a bit of the hair of the dog, and hunker down for a rockin' episode of The Sapranos.

The Tooth Fairy's First Visit

My 5 year old lost his first tooth yesterday. Supposedly he announced it with great enthusiasm to the whole school while everyone was standing quietly outside the building during a fire drill. It's such a cute little tooth! My older son and I held it up to our teeth, trying to compare it's size to the size of our own teeth, and trying to envision it sticking out of our own gums.

Well, of course the tooth fairy came to visit last night. Little son and I carefully wrapped up the tooth in a tissue and strategically placed it under his pillow, close to the side of his bed so the 'tooth fairy could reach it'. He was all a buzz. 'I wonder what the tooth fairy looks like? Is it a boy or a girl? It's probably a girl because fairies are girls, right? How does she know where we live? How does she carry around all that money?' On and on the questions flowed. However, he never questioned her authenticity, which is refreshing considering his cynical and jaded nature. And when it was bedtime, he went right to sleep. No stalling. That was a first.

Well, shortly after he fell asleep, the tooth fairy did visit, and carried out her duty flawlessly. Not a stir was caused. She adeptly slipped the $5.00 bill under his pillow while extracting the tissue bound tooth ( I know, $5.00 is pretty steep, but that's only for the first tooth, the rest are only $1.00).

After the tooth fairy watched the 11:00 local news, she turned off the TV and went to bed. Well, at 1:21am little son's anticipated discovery came to fruition. He found his $5.00 bill under his pillow and quickly ran into my room to announce his findings. 'Why are you awake right now? You should be asleep' I stupidly said, probably bursting his bubble. But being woken from a fairly sound slumber threw me off guard, and led to tactlessness. After I regained some consciousness I told him he could sleep in my bed (a huge rarity), and congratulated him on his winnings. Well, suffice to say neither of us got much sleep. My husband is out of town, so the bed wasn't too crowded, but with all the excitement sleep was difficult.

The roll of questions continued during this morning's walk to school. 'How did the tooth fair get into the house? Do you think she's big or little? So-and-so only got 2 dollars, how come she gave him 2 and me 5?', etc. His innocence and cuteness was just so adorable I just basked in it. But, of course, when we got to school, he said, 'Mom, let's not talk about my tooth any more. Don't say anything about it, OK?'. 'OK'. I said. But I am still reveling in his unusual, age appropriate behavior. I am so used to him acting like a misinterpreted teenager, that any sliver of 'little-kidness' I get, I relish. I guess that's part of the magic of the Tooth Fairy - she can bring out the little kid in anyone.

Home Repair Self Analysis

Why is it I can't do anything to my house? It is falling down around me (not really) but I can't get my act together to fix it up. There are so many things I need to do: replace kitchen cabinets, paint, install laundry room shelving, take down a tree in the back yard whose roots are breaking through a retaining wall, un-clutter the garage and repair it's cement the walls (which are crumbling). The list can continue. I don't know why, but I have a complete mental block when it come to doing work on my house. I am all talk and no action.

I don't understand this problem with myself. I know this is a pain in the neck, but I deal with much more severe and important crises with much more efficiently and grace. For God's sake, I'm a social worker! I have dealt with psychotics and prison inmates, but I can't get my act together to call a handy man?! What is with this? OK, think. What is going on. Are you lazy? Yes, partially. Are you nervous about making the wrong decision? Yes, a little. Are you nervous about something going wrong, and the problem you're trying to fix just getting worse or leading to more problems? Yes. Do you feel as though half of these jobs do not take a rocket scientist, and you could do them yourself, and you feel frustrated because you have to pay someone big money to do a relatively easy job? Yes. Do you hate talking to dirty, stupid, overpriced, hard-to-contact, takes-forever-to-do-the-job contractors who underestimate your ability to talk about leaky pipes and downspouts because you're a woman? Yes. Do you hate having strange, grungy people walking through your house all day and invading your space? Yes. Do you feel nervous because this is the first house you have ever lived in, and there is no apartment building super to call about all of this? Yes.

Ah-hah. Now I see.

Well, Urban-Mom, it's time to bite the bullet. Wake yourself out of your lazy stupor and stop procrastinating. Get over your self imposed anxiety and your fear of stereotyped images of contractors. Get a hold of yourself and just do it. Maybe I can put up some shelves to relieve my need for controlling my own destiny, and to absolve my aversion to getting ripped off. But I ain't gonna cut down no tree. So, buckle up and start getting out those yellow pages because your speed dial is ready and waiting.

After this insightful conversation I've had with myself I feel nervous, but good to go. I just hope I can pull the trigger. Maybe just one more cup of coffee first.....

Gutter Mouth

Here's one for the memory banks.

My 5 yr. old Kindergartener has homework every night. Just little 2 minute exercises like 'write your name 3 times'. I guess this is to get them into the swing of doing homework, but for him it's just busy work that he can do in 30 seconds flat.

Anyway, when I was at work the other evening he did his homework with the babysitter. The homework for that night was 'write 5 words that start with SH'. Here was his list:

SHUT UP
SHIT
SHIP
SHUCKS
SHAME

(talk about free association)

Well, both the babysitter and I briefly mentioned to him that we did not think this was a good idea, but he was sticking to his guns. I did not make a big deal about it, because I didn't think it was that big of a deal, and he knew exactly what he was doing, and frankly I just forgot about it.

His teacher emerged from school at pick up yesterday, with his book in hand, and a big post it signifying the page. Suffice to say, she was horrified. The conversation went something like this:

TEACHER: opens the book to the page. Silent pause. 'What's with this?'

ME: 'Oh..yeah. He did that with the babysitter' (lame excuse or what!) 'But we did mention to him that this was not a good idea'.

TEACHER: 'I could not give him his sticker today'

ME: 'OK', shrugging my shoulders.

silent pause

TEACHER: 'Is this a problem at home?'

ME: 'Well, sort of, but not really' again, shrugging my shoulders

TEACHER: 'He uses these words at home?'

ME: 'Yes. He does have a big brother you know' (again, deflecting the responsibility)

silent pause

TEACHER: 'Wow'. Just glances at me in amazement.

ME: 'How was the day otherwise?'

TEACHER: 'Otherwise his day was fine'

So then I said something about how there are bigger battles to fight or something like this and casually left, while she said goodbye still obviously flabbergasted by the event and at my nonchalance about the whole thing.

Well, I cracked up when I turned the corner. Look, she's obviously right. The kid should not be using swear words, especially for homework. But I do feel that given all I have to deal with with this little monkey, swear words are the least of my problems. And, more importantly, if I make a big deal about it, he is going to take it and run. He will be swearing every other word! He's already started; this morning I heard 2 'assholes' coming out of his mouth. I am not suggesting this be ignored, but it should be kept in proportion. And look, I talked to him about it, and frankly it was a good lesson; if he's going to pull shit.. opps, I mean stunts like that, he's going to get into trouble. It's his choice. Yes, we did start the 'swear jar' again, but frankly, I think the whole thing is small potatoes. My feeling is, I don't care much about swear words, but others do, and my kids have better be prepared to deal with that and learn some discretion.

As far as I'm concerned his teacher never indicated that there were certain words that were off limits. The assignment implied that anything goes, as long as it started with SH. Look, he spelled all his words correctly, and his penmanship was proficient. As far as I'm concerned he gets his check plus for the day (the plus for creativity and imagination).