Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Things are coming to an end...




It's true, they are coming to an end. But in a good way. I have for you today, the premiere of Before and After, My Home Edition. Hooray! The first before and after picture of my new downstairs! Yes, exclamation marks EVERYWHERE!
Note the zen quality of the color. The new countertops. The new flooring. The super cute new light fixture. Ahhh.
I am taking up a collection for a new kitchen table. Not that I want to take your charity away from Haiti, or Yazoo City, MS, or really anyplace else that you give it, but. Send your donations. New kitchen table. It'd really pull the room together...

Friday, April 23, 2010

P.S. About that time....

So, the pool liner was manufactured to the wrong specifications. Too big. Gotta wait a week. Big empty pit in the backyard. But that's okay, because the yard man still hasn't been by, so it's a weedy jungle anyway. Hmph.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Hi, you busy right now?

Ya know, sometimes, life would be easier if people just did what they said they would do when they said they would do it.
This would involve WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY less chasing of people on my part.

My kids? That freaking bag from music class is still sitting by the back door. I asked E to move it on Saturday. This morning, I asked him, "How many days ago did I ask you to move this?"
"Six. But at least I can do the math."

Small consolation.

The plumber? WEEKS ago, we had the flood. We have been waiting in this post-diluvian morass all this time. The boys have been sharing my shower (they leave washcloths and towels all over the place. EW) and I am ready for the little hatchlings to go back to their own nest. Finally, the plumber calls Tuesday night at 4:30: "Can we come in tomorrow at 8 and install the part for your shower? The water will be off for a couple of hours."

Yeah, sure. Who needs water in the mornings?

The pool guy? New vinyl liner for the pool was ordered in February. He said they'd be getting to me after one other liner installation. I said, ok, since you'll be here so soon, why don't you just skip cleaning it? (I was thinking I didn't want to pay for fresh chemicals to be poured down the drain. Literally.)

YESTERDAY, the pool guy shows up to drain the now-swamp of my pool. It smelled like dead fish.
Seriously.

And inevitably, "Ma'am. You know that the bottom of this pool is cracked from roots? We're going to have to pull these up and re-concrete the floor of the pool."

So, we went from a 2 day, fixed-cost project to a pit into which we throw money.
Literally.

The yard guy? Oh, my very nice, honest, hard-working yard guy. He's supposed to be fixing the fence in the yard, spreading out some mulch, pruning the appropriate shrubs, mowing and feeding the grass, and planting some pots for me. I don't know if it is a bender this time, or if he's overworked, or what.

I WANT MY YARD CLEANED UP.

So, if you see my yard guy, the carpenter, the UPS dude, any representative from Pottery Barn, the drywall guy, or anybody else who you think might be able to help out over here, please a) ask them to get ON IT. and b) say 'please.'

For my sake. For my sanity. For the health of my marriage.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Judge Julie: A Response to Surviving the Mommy Mafia

This morning, I read a post on CNN.com about surviving the "mommy mafia."
http://www.cnn.com/2010/LIVING/wayoflife/04/13/mommy.mafia.jen.klein/index.html?hpt=Mid

While I certainly agree with the author's claim that moms and women judge one another, as the primary judger in my household, I feel compelled to offer my two cents. And judge her assessment of the underground mommy life.

It's a 'dirty little secret' that's 'not really a secret'? First of all, most moms are women. If, by the age that you become a parent, you haven't figured out that your female cohorts are judging you, then you have either been raised in a barn, or blissfully ignorant and mercilessly teased behind your back. Girls judge, tweens judge the most, high school girls judge, and even cultured young women of college age judge. Don't you remember? Being too thin/fat? I was too thin until some time in middle school. Then, not thin enough. Don't you remember having glasses/thick eyebrows/pimples/braces/poor fashion advice from your mother? We all went through it. Even that annoying head cheerleader went through it on some level.

I notice now, by the way, that one of my high school's class cheerleaders has a Facebook page that could illustrate a John Cheever novel.

Being judged is a widely known part of life. Who's judging you and why and how you cope with it...those are the dirty little secrets.

First of all, I'll be honest. I'm probably judging you. Whether you're a mother, or not, my first mental process upon meeting you is assessing you. I hope, to some degree, that you're doing it to me. That's why we have a term for it in our language: the first impression. I don't care if you're wearing white after Labor Day, what I care about is that crazed look in your eyes...is it the kind of crazy that instantly bonds me with others or is it the kind of crazy that says 'potential serial killer, beware'?

I can't instantly form an opinion of the quality of your character, but I start forming an idea right away. I can tell if you're health-conscious (are you eating a Snickers for breakfast?), trendy (iphone in hand?), have a regular babysitter (this, I infer from whether or not you have a professional-looking haircut and color. No one has fantastically coiffed hair unless they have time for it. And with kids, this means babysitter.) And, let's be honest, if you have a babysitter, there's a good chance I'll befriend you. Who would have thought that sixteen year old girls would become a commodity in parenting econ 101?

Of course, first impressions are often misleading. And mine remain pretty malleable until I know you better. Do I judge you based on the cleanliness of your children's clothes? No. Do I judge you based on the sparkle of happiness hiding in the corner of their smiles? Hell, yeah.

The mommy mafia author suggests that we judge based on a myth of the perfect mom. Does some one still think there is a perfect mother? In this, the 21st century, uber-tolerant social veneer, a digital age where you can find cohorts on the Internet for every niche of interest? No one, except my mother, still believes in The Perfect Mother. My mother thinks that she was clearly NOT perfect, and judges herself for it, which is ridiculous, because of course she wasn't perfect, but no one is.

June Cleaver is dead.

Judging is such a strange term for what we do. Certainly, we compare. We watch others, we learn from others. When we see that kid in Wal-Mart ripping stuff off the shelves, and telling his mother to shove it, we compare. We judge. It's part of how we learn to parent--don't we judge our own parents in our own minds?

I don't compare moms to this rubric of a perfect mom, as though I were grading an essay:
4/5 for children's fashion
3/5 for personal fashion
4/5 for consistent discipline
1/5 for publicly spanking
1/5 for having a cocktail with dinner in front of children
5/5 for child's use of napkin and cutlery

18/30=60%=D parenting. I'd prefer to think that judging is done on a curve. Wouldn't we all rather be a little more like some moms we know than other moms we know? Isn't that necessary role modeling? Isn't that how we strive to be better parents/wives/friends/people?

As I get to know you, I form judgements based on what I think is important in life. Are the things in my life the only things that are important? Of course not. My life lacks things that very clearly other people think is vitally important. The core things, though, are shared by nearly everyone in my life. Those are my friends, my frenemies, my circle, my peers. This is the cohort in which I am raising a family. Therefore, these are the things I judge my friends by. These are the things upon which I base my advice when it is sought, these are the ideals by which I measure and judge myself. This is how I own my failures and savor my successes.

There are few things that are absolute in the complicated life/job that is parenting. These are the ends. The means are variable. If you were to ask me for advice, (which I know you really want to do right now, after reading this. Your thoughts are undoubtedly running the gamut from A to B: what a bitch to what a megabitch) you would be asking me to make a judgement. And here is how I am judging you:

Is your child happy? Perhaps not at this particular, sitting in the corner moment, but overall?
Do you seem satisfied with your life? No, you are not running through meadows in a Massengill commercial. But, are you the black and white frowny face in the depression medication ad?
Are you making your parenting choices from a rational, well-informed place or are you hopping on the trend bandwagon? Trendy Parent Magazine's article on "The All-Kale Diet" is not a reason to change dinner plans. Especially when three months later, Trendy Parent prints a tiny retraction, noting that the "All-Kale Diet" may turn your child green
Are you doing what's best for your individual child, or are you signing up for competitive cheer leading to avenge Lucy Perfectpants from the 7th grade cheer squad?
Do you have a semi-objective support network? A partner who's around enough to have valuable input? A mother (in-law) who doesn't always second-guess? A sister who has kids older than yours who aren't in the juvenile justice system? A sister who doesn't have kids, but has the nerve to tell you that yours are wild hoodlums? No one can raise a child alone. A meaningful support network tells me you're not trying to go it alone.

So, yeah. I'm judging you. If you tell me that your child can only eat organic raw foods, I'm going to be skeptical. You tell me that you're buying an oxygen tent for your kid to sleep in because of pollution, I'm raising an eyebrow. You're telling me that your 3 year old is taking Latin because it'll help his understanding of English etymology, and I'm rolling my eyes.

These aren't problems. These are choices to make, and things to focus on to avoid thinking about the things that scare us all about being parents.

On the other hand, you tell me that your kids' obsession with candy is making dinner time a nightmare, I hear you. If you tell me you're worried about the quality of your kid's education and are investigating alternatives, I'm listening. If you tell me your doctor recommended a procedure, and you're just not sure, I'm on it.
These are dilemmas, and every parent agonizes over them. (If you don't agonize about them, I'm judging you) These are the things that take mettle. These are the things that evoke the judgement of others. These are the things for we seek out our friends, our families, our support networks to help counsel us. These are the very decisions for which we, and ultimately, our children will be judged.

Friday, April 9, 2010

Hiatus

Not Cinnamon is on hiatus, for reasons including, but not limited to:
  1. The flood
  2. The mess of construction
  3. The emergence of spring
  4. The replacing of the pool liner
  5. The needs of the yard
  6. The mess of construction
  7. The departure of my father in law
  8. My commitment to a mental facility :)