When I joined FB, it was really to keep in touch with people--not to find old flames, check up on old classmates, or really 'rediscover' anyone. I did it to communicate with the same people I email, by and large, only more often.
So, this weekend, I exchanged emails with a friend from Chicago. I tried to persuade her to join FB, and she declined, insisting on her "dinosaur" ways. This is the email I sent her, slightly edited, to convince her to join. I have converted it to an open letter to my friends and family to join FB to keep in touch:
Dear Friends,
The thing about FB is this. Yes, it is a gigantic time suck. Guilty guilty guilty. I mean the other day, I actually invested time to take the quiz to see which totally awesome animated film character I am (Edna from The Incredibles) and making lists (5 things which everyone seems to like that I don't: anorexic girls, Hollywood remakes, winter, televised high speed chases, and American Idol)
But, I NEVER spend time looking for old friends, because if they want me they can come and find me.(Good luck spelling my married name, losers from high school!) and I get short, brief updates every day from people, like a 5 minute conversation while dropping the kids off at school. It's more natural than having to remember everything I've done for the last 6 months, condense it into letter/email and sending it off. Like, for example, MC (who I NEVER see or talk to unless college friends are getting married) has a massive nesting instinct at the start of her third trimester. And that's cute. I feel involved. It's also voyeuristic--I know NOTHING about another friend, LSJ, except that 1. her wedding pictures were gorgeous and 2. she just joined a Professional Women's Group on FB. So. There ya go. I always have photos on my page, for one thing. You can also find critical information about me revealed through quizes: which zoo animals do I like? I know you're wondering. The answer is Okapis--find out why on my FB page...., my favorite smells: plumeria, beach smell, bleach...You can also find non-essential information like what my hippie name is, or what my birthdate reveals about me, what character from The Office I am like.
Also, don't you dare join Twitter. I will not read something, no matter how profound, if it is called a tweet.
Love,
J
Monday, May 25, 2009
Saturday, May 23, 2009
No Thru Traffic
One of our friends, JJ, once told us this story about his family which has generated a catch phrase in our house. I'll retell it now, but I'm really not doing it justice. If you see JJ in Chicago, ask him to tell you this story--you'll be howling.
JJ's mother is a very proper, conservative woman. She was driving and JJ was in the car (he was already an adult, or nearly so). She merged on to a crowded, multi-lane highway from the far left. Upon merging, she realized that her exit was on the far right, but only a short distance away. As cars whizzed past, she of the trim gray hair and glasses, she of the tentative merging tactics, yells out, "we're dooooooomed!"
OK, it totally sucks in the retelling. JJ does it so much better with his pacing and imitation of his mother.
ANYhoodles. I looked at the calendar this morning to get an idea of the week ahead and realized that holy crap! it's the end of May! I am feeling a little like JJ's mom--in the fast lane, and speeding by exits.
Usually, I employ this forum to complain about how slow time is passing by. And true, on a day to day basis, the clock crawls. But this year is FLYING by. Just MetaphoricYesterday, I was looking forward to a trip to Toronto. And then complaining about our catastrophic trip to Montreal. And psyched for S's birthday. And dreading the end of school. And now, it's May. My birthday came and went. M's is coming up. Time is flying by. It's also possible that it's accelerating. That we're getting older faster. I will have a child in "real school" in the fall.
Looking ahead to this summer, it's only a few days until M's Dad comes for a visit, and then we're going to the beach for a few days, and then SoCal to visit my folks and then--poof!--that's it. Summer's gone.
But on a bigger scale, my baby S is growing up. I confess, I infantilize him more than I ever did E because I know he is my last baby. And buh-lee-heeve me, I would not want another for any amount of money. But he is so sweet at this age. The boys have two little ARR-TOO-DEE-TOO units from Star Wars. They're cute robots. Anyway, they have some sort of learning built into their computers and yesterday afternoon, they were both on and talking to each other. S thought it was cute, and last night, I walked into the den to find the units together, their little robot arms intertwined around a juice box. S thought they might be thirsty together. It was bittersweet, of course because he's old enough for the ARR-TOO, but young enough to make them a pretend picnic. And soon he will be in "real school" and then he and E will be grown and I will be old (ish) and then we will all die. (What? It's true.)
I try to soak up these moments of cuteness, to preserve them for times when I'm tempted to throttle the boys, and it's hard. I do cherish them, and there is not a night that goes by that I don't think I have the sweetest, cutest, most wonderful children on the planet (sorry, friends. It's true.) And part of me wants every day to creep by so I may savor every second. The other part, naturally, wonders why it isn't cocktail hour yet for God's sake.
But for whatever reasons, today, looking at that calendar, I felt I was going 70, turn signal flashin', nobody yielding. On a grand level, I hate to say it, but we're doomed.
JJ's mother is a very proper, conservative woman. She was driving and JJ was in the car (he was already an adult, or nearly so). She merged on to a crowded, multi-lane highway from the far left. Upon merging, she realized that her exit was on the far right, but only a short distance away. As cars whizzed past, she of the trim gray hair and glasses, she of the tentative merging tactics, yells out, "we're dooooooomed!"
OK, it totally sucks in the retelling. JJ does it so much better with his pacing and imitation of his mother.
ANYhoodles. I looked at the calendar this morning to get an idea of the week ahead and realized that holy crap! it's the end of May! I am feeling a little like JJ's mom--in the fast lane, and speeding by exits.
Usually, I employ this forum to complain about how slow time is passing by. And true, on a day to day basis, the clock crawls. But this year is FLYING by. Just MetaphoricYesterday, I was looking forward to a trip to Toronto. And then complaining about our catastrophic trip to Montreal. And psyched for S's birthday. And dreading the end of school. And now, it's May. My birthday came and went. M's is coming up. Time is flying by. It's also possible that it's accelerating. That we're getting older faster. I will have a child in "real school" in the fall.
Looking ahead to this summer, it's only a few days until M's Dad comes for a visit, and then we're going to the beach for a few days, and then SoCal to visit my folks and then--poof!--that's it. Summer's gone.
But on a bigger scale, my baby S is growing up. I confess, I infantilize him more than I ever did E because I know he is my last baby. And buh-lee-heeve me, I would not want another for any amount of money. But he is so sweet at this age. The boys have two little ARR-TOO-DEE-TOO units from Star Wars. They're cute robots. Anyway, they have some sort of learning built into their computers and yesterday afternoon, they were both on and talking to each other. S thought it was cute, and last night, I walked into the den to find the units together, their little robot arms intertwined around a juice box. S thought they might be thirsty together. It was bittersweet, of course because he's old enough for the ARR-TOO, but young enough to make them a pretend picnic. And soon he will be in "real school" and then he and E will be grown and I will be old (ish) and then we will all die. (What? It's true.)
I try to soak up these moments of cuteness, to preserve them for times when I'm tempted to throttle the boys, and it's hard. I do cherish them, and there is not a night that goes by that I don't think I have the sweetest, cutest, most wonderful children on the planet (sorry, friends. It's true.) And part of me wants every day to creep by so I may savor every second. The other part, naturally, wonders why it isn't cocktail hour yet for God's sake.
But for whatever reasons, today, looking at that calendar, I felt I was going 70, turn signal flashin', nobody yielding. On a grand level, I hate to say it, but we're doomed.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Little People
Sometimes it's hard to think of your children as independent creatures. Creatures with preferences, self-tuning biological clocks, creatures who form meaningful bonds and relationships with other small creatures.
I don't know why it's so easy to minimize your children's existential "being." Perhaps it's because we so painfully bear the responsibilities for their actions at this age (yes, that is the avalanche of applesauce jars that we started,) or because we feel so "in charge" of them. And, realistically, we are in charge. We dictate where they go, how they get there, what activities they participate in, where they go to school, and even what they wear. (I have previously documented my boys' style preference for hobo chic. But despite their own flair, they are choosing outfits based on clothes I bought for them.) Occasionally, we see our children from a different perspective, and a particular gesture or expression, or something reminds us that they are themselves. Miniature people, developing their own personalities. Shockingly, they may develop personalities that despite our best love and parenting are not compatible with our own. Weird to think that my boys, completely immersed in the things that M and I enjoy most (except for freakin' Disney Crap Live); completely immersed in our lives may not ever feel connected to those things.
Today, S's best friends in the world, his three girlfriends from school, came over to swim. He asked me every ten minutes if his friends were here yet. He was so excited that they were coming over--they weren't his brother's friend's siblings or anything; his very own best friends were coming to HIS house. He asked if we could go to Target to get the girls toys they might enjoy more than his Hot Wheels. He asked if we had snacks they all liked. He even asked if we had gotten rid of the peanut butter cookies Grandma had baked because of one friend's severe peanut allergy. I mean, this kid was on it--he was ready to be the host.
This whole preparation surprised me a bit. For one thing, he was incredibly thoughtful and accommodating to other people's needs and wants. For another, it was very well thought out. He had clearly been mulling these things over. Who knew?
Then, when the girls got here, he was so pleased. He brought the girls juice. He wanted to put the dog away when Clooney scared one of his friends.
It's not like he was perfectly behaved or anything: he didn't morph into Alex P. Keaton, uptight kid extraordinaire. He just was keenly aware of other people.
I know it's not in kids' natures to be aware of their parents' needs. Or wants. Or desperate desire to sleep past 6 AM. But I didn't even know they had the capacity to tend to other people in that way. It was sweet, and thoughtful, and made me look at S in a whole new light. And I understood why he and his three girlfriends are such good friends--they all treat each other like that. And in their own little way, are in a very grown up relationship. One that doesn't involve me at all--his own little independent friends.
I don't know why it's so easy to minimize your children's existential "being." Perhaps it's because we so painfully bear the responsibilities for their actions at this age (yes, that is the avalanche of applesauce jars that we started,) or because we feel so "in charge" of them. And, realistically, we are in charge. We dictate where they go, how they get there, what activities they participate in, where they go to school, and even what they wear. (I have previously documented my boys' style preference for hobo chic. But despite their own flair, they are choosing outfits based on clothes I bought for them.) Occasionally, we see our children from a different perspective, and a particular gesture or expression, or something reminds us that they are themselves. Miniature people, developing their own personalities. Shockingly, they may develop personalities that despite our best love and parenting are not compatible with our own. Weird to think that my boys, completely immersed in the things that M and I enjoy most (except for freakin' Disney Crap Live); completely immersed in our lives may not ever feel connected to those things.
Today, S's best friends in the world, his three girlfriends from school, came over to swim. He asked me every ten minutes if his friends were here yet. He was so excited that they were coming over--they weren't his brother's friend's siblings or anything; his very own best friends were coming to HIS house. He asked if we could go to Target to get the girls toys they might enjoy more than his Hot Wheels. He asked if we had snacks they all liked. He even asked if we had gotten rid of the peanut butter cookies Grandma had baked because of one friend's severe peanut allergy. I mean, this kid was on it--he was ready to be the host.
This whole preparation surprised me a bit. For one thing, he was incredibly thoughtful and accommodating to other people's needs and wants. For another, it was very well thought out. He had clearly been mulling these things over. Who knew?
Then, when the girls got here, he was so pleased. He brought the girls juice. He wanted to put the dog away when Clooney scared one of his friends.
It's not like he was perfectly behaved or anything: he didn't morph into Alex P. Keaton, uptight kid extraordinaire. He just was keenly aware of other people.
I know it's not in kids' natures to be aware of their parents' needs. Or wants. Or desperate desire to sleep past 6 AM. But I didn't even know they had the capacity to tend to other people in that way. It was sweet, and thoughtful, and made me look at S in a whole new light. And I understood why he and his three girlfriends are such good friends--they all treat each other like that. And in their own little way, are in a very grown up relationship. One that doesn't involve me at all--his own little independent friends.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
The Wee Lads
Today was the first "real" day of summer for us. My mom left yesterday, M went to work for regular hours today, and it was just me and the boys. What a daunting feeling at 7:30 in the morning: 12 hours of non-stop kids. Non-stop talking. Non-stop demands. Occasional-stop bickering. I should have made my coffee "Irish." But then again, Mommy's been making a lot of things "Irish" lately.
We hit a bit of a snag during breakfast. We are down to some bare bones in breakfast foods. Since I only buy packaged food once a month, the cupboard gets a bit bare at the end of week 3. But we muscled through the lack of cereal and compromised on oatmeal. Okay...
We did our "bridge" activity worksheets with no issues whatsoever. We had fun with them and worked steadily for 45 minutes. So far, so good.
Easy hour ahead--I picked up the house, unloaded laundry baskets, and walked on the treadmill for a lousy 15 minutes while S watched TV and E did computer. It's cheating a little, but still pretty good.
We packed up some supplies and headed to the park and (shockingly!) arrived on time. Friends came and played. I shared a nice visit with a mom friend. We had cold drinks in the car to stave off total meltdown. I'm feeling confident.
Lunch. See, I went and got cocky. I told the kids I'd take them to Moe's, and there was a line. Delayed gratification = time to bicker. GRRR. I wolfed down my food and started threatening.
Grocery store. Thus far, it is the only thing today that I didn't package and sell to my kids as fun fun fun. I have asked them to buy enough groceries for one meal. I have not asked them to cross the Sahara with only a wet washcloth to drink from. Bicker. Pushing. Bicker bicker bicker. We got home with more bickering. I set the timer for 15 minutes--this is the amount of time they will now have to wait before getting to go swimming. Just barely 1 PM--I am not staying as strong as I had hoped.
Finally, fifteen minute timer is up, we head out for the pool. Old Man E complains about the temperature of the water. S must chime in. Regardless, they manage to play in the sand box for about an hour happily. I get them to go in the water for about half an hour more. It's 2:45 and I'm feeling doomed. M won't be home for hours. I look desperately to the horizon. There are no reinforcements. I begin to panic, but check the fear. I can handle this.
We change clothes and surprisingly, kids agree to play cars together. I ask no questions. I do not look a gift horse in the mouth.
I grab a giant glass of water and take a quick shower to wash off the sunblock. It's 3:15. We're doing it. Cocktail hour is only an hour and a half from now. I can do that. No problem.
Only one problem left to solve today: What am I going to make Irish tonight?
We hit a bit of a snag during breakfast. We are down to some bare bones in breakfast foods. Since I only buy packaged food once a month, the cupboard gets a bit bare at the end of week 3. But we muscled through the lack of cereal and compromised on oatmeal. Okay...
We did our "bridge" activity worksheets with no issues whatsoever. We had fun with them and worked steadily for 45 minutes. So far, so good.
Easy hour ahead--I picked up the house, unloaded laundry baskets, and walked on the treadmill for a lousy 15 minutes while S watched TV and E did computer. It's cheating a little, but still pretty good.
We packed up some supplies and headed to the park and (shockingly!) arrived on time. Friends came and played. I shared a nice visit with a mom friend. We had cold drinks in the car to stave off total meltdown. I'm feeling confident.
Lunch. See, I went and got cocky. I told the kids I'd take them to Moe's, and there was a line. Delayed gratification = time to bicker. GRRR. I wolfed down my food and started threatening.
Grocery store. Thus far, it is the only thing today that I didn't package and sell to my kids as fun fun fun. I have asked them to buy enough groceries for one meal. I have not asked them to cross the Sahara with only a wet washcloth to drink from. Bicker. Pushing. Bicker bicker bicker. We got home with more bickering. I set the timer for 15 minutes--this is the amount of time they will now have to wait before getting to go swimming. Just barely 1 PM--I am not staying as strong as I had hoped.
Finally, fifteen minute timer is up, we head out for the pool. Old Man E complains about the temperature of the water. S must chime in. Regardless, they manage to play in the sand box for about an hour happily. I get them to go in the water for about half an hour more. It's 2:45 and I'm feeling doomed. M won't be home for hours. I look desperately to the horizon. There are no reinforcements. I begin to panic, but check the fear. I can handle this.
We change clothes and surprisingly, kids agree to play cars together. I ask no questions. I do not look a gift horse in the mouth.
I grab a giant glass of water and take a quick shower to wash off the sunblock. It's 3:15. We're doing it. Cocktail hour is only an hour and a half from now. I can do that. No problem.
Only one problem left to solve today: What am I going to make Irish tonight?
Monday, May 18, 2009
Eyes Wide Open
For more than one hundred and fifty days of school, M or I went into E's room and gently roused him from a deep sleep. We waited until the latest possible time so that he could sleep those precious few moments longer. We gently stroked his face and gave him kisses to ease him into the trauma of yet another school morning. Every morning, he had to be awakened.
Weekends and today, the first day of summer vacation, however, he manages to wake himself at FIVE AM. This morning, he was in my bed "whispering" self congratulatory messages on finally making it to summer vacation at FIVE AM.
Which would have been even more irritating except that his brother, the non-sleeping freak, was already awake, chasing Clooney around my bed at FIVE AM. At one point, the dog was straddling M's sleeping face, and S grabbed two hind feet and pulled the rest of Clooney back over M's face. That could NOT have been pleasant (really, for anyone involved.)
Five AM? Nobody except for like barristas (so that I can go get coffee on such days) and the Krispy Kreme people need to be up at 5 AM. My sister gets up that early to exercise, but that's just unnatural. People can exercise at normal times. Why oh why are my children awake at 5 o'clock? That means they are awake for at 15 hours a day. That's just not right! That amount of time requires WAY too much interaction on my part. I mean aren't there labor laws protecting moms from working horrifically long shifts? Can't we unionize or something? Is this a sweat shop? If it were a sweatshop, I'd wind up with a cute pair of shoes by the end of the day. If I'm working that long, can't I at least be skinny? Can't my metabolism at least offer up a compromise, "look, this fat chick is workin' her butt off. Maybe I could help by taking some of her big butt off."
I remember when the boys were babies. And yes, they were up three fourths of the night, but then, they would nap during the day. They'd be up for two hours then sleep for an hour. Oh, merciful naps, where have you gone? Now, all I can look forward to is the distant teenage day when they want to sleep until noon. I will go into their rooms, and crawl into their beds and start "whispering" to them about what I'm going to do that day.
Especially since, by then, I will be old and like all old people, not require any sleep. Life is cruel.
Weekends and today, the first day of summer vacation, however, he manages to wake himself at FIVE AM. This morning, he was in my bed "whispering" self congratulatory messages on finally making it to summer vacation at FIVE AM.
Which would have been even more irritating except that his brother, the non-sleeping freak, was already awake, chasing Clooney around my bed at FIVE AM. At one point, the dog was straddling M's sleeping face, and S grabbed two hind feet and pulled the rest of Clooney back over M's face. That could NOT have been pleasant (really, for anyone involved.)
Five AM? Nobody except for like barristas (so that I can go get coffee on such days) and the Krispy Kreme people need to be up at 5 AM. My sister gets up that early to exercise, but that's just unnatural. People can exercise at normal times. Why oh why are my children awake at 5 o'clock? That means they are awake for at 15 hours a day. That's just not right! That amount of time requires WAY too much interaction on my part. I mean aren't there labor laws protecting moms from working horrifically long shifts? Can't we unionize or something? Is this a sweat shop? If it were a sweatshop, I'd wind up with a cute pair of shoes by the end of the day. If I'm working that long, can't I at least be skinny? Can't my metabolism at least offer up a compromise, "look, this fat chick is workin' her butt off. Maybe I could help by taking some of her big butt off."
I remember when the boys were babies. And yes, they were up three fourths of the night, but then, they would nap during the day. They'd be up for two hours then sleep for an hour. Oh, merciful naps, where have you gone? Now, all I can look forward to is the distant teenage day when they want to sleep until noon. I will go into their rooms, and crawl into their beds and start "whispering" to them about what I'm going to do that day.
Especially since, by then, I will be old and like all old people, not require any sleep. Life is cruel.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Mini Vacay
There is nothing like two days away from your kids to realize that two days away from your kids is not NEARLY enough vacation.
M and I had so much fun in Biloxi. We ate well, he gambled, I sat by the pool, meditating on margaritas and pelicans. I read a book. I slept for 11 hours each night AND took a nap. Now that I am refreshed, though, I'd like to go back and party.
Such is life, I guess. I have been on very few vacations that lasted too long (strangely, those that come to mind involve my children. I don't think I've ever been on holiday with just M and wanted to come back to my "real" life.)
People in casinos amuse me. A little old lady gave me a lot of slot machine advice. A little old man was just bursting to tell some one (me) about the $80 he won. And this random couple told me the machine I just sat down on was never going to pay. People have a strange mix of camaraderie and competition at casinos. Somehow, they are sure it is a zero sum win--if I win, they can't and I better not mess with their system/chair/machine. But also, there is still the common nemesis of the House. Everybody has their strategy to beat it.
We, naturally, didn't beat it. But we certainly enjoyed staying at it! The weather was so beautiful. I sat gulf side in a lounge chair for 4 hours. I got up twice to cool off in the pool. When was the last time a mom didn't have to move for 4 hours AND didn't have SARS? Relaxing. Quiet. Nappish.
I want to go again today.
PLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEEE?
M and I had so much fun in Biloxi. We ate well, he gambled, I sat by the pool, meditating on margaritas and pelicans. I read a book. I slept for 11 hours each night AND took a nap. Now that I am refreshed, though, I'd like to go back and party.
Such is life, I guess. I have been on very few vacations that lasted too long (strangely, those that come to mind involve my children. I don't think I've ever been on holiday with just M and wanted to come back to my "real" life.)
People in casinos amuse me. A little old lady gave me a lot of slot machine advice. A little old man was just bursting to tell some one (me) about the $80 he won. And this random couple told me the machine I just sat down on was never going to pay. People have a strange mix of camaraderie and competition at casinos. Somehow, they are sure it is a zero sum win--if I win, they can't and I better not mess with their system/chair/machine. But also, there is still the common nemesis of the House. Everybody has their strategy to beat it.
We, naturally, didn't beat it. But we certainly enjoyed staying at it! The weather was so beautiful. I sat gulf side in a lounge chair for 4 hours. I got up twice to cool off in the pool. When was the last time a mom didn't have to move for 4 hours AND didn't have SARS? Relaxing. Quiet. Nappish.
I want to go again today.
PLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEEE?
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
What year is this?
Sometimes weird things happen. People say things and you just wonder, "what should I say in response?" or "HUH?" or "WTF?"
Yesterday, I was at E's school for a parent conference with M and E's teacher. We wanted to cover general bases; make sure the E from school at least jibes with the E from home. I wanted to make sure that our few summer academic activities covered E's weakest skills and were appropriate for entry into 1st grade. We wanted to let his teacher know that we are interested in his education and want to be involved in it.
While I was at school, E also got to ring the big bell to start off the week. It is an honor reserved for all kindergartners and E was with a bunch of "leftover" kids who didn't get a chance to do it yet this year. I was chatting with a mom as dads put away video cameras, siblings got wrangled into arms, and moms put away their cameras. She asked me why I was there, I said conference, blahblah. She asked if everyone had a conference, and I said no, we scheduled ours independently. She asked why, and I explained. She said that yes, she was concerned about her son's academic performance, and wondered about it. "Although," she says, "I don't worry about his little sister's performance at all."
"Oh," say I, "is she all about preschool and loving it?" Smile, pointless small talk laughter.
"No," "she's never going to need a job, so it doesn't matter. She won't have to support a family."
"HUH?"
"What should I say in response?"
"WTF?"
Yesterday, I was at E's school for a parent conference with M and E's teacher. We wanted to cover general bases; make sure the E from school at least jibes with the E from home. I wanted to make sure that our few summer academic activities covered E's weakest skills and were appropriate for entry into 1st grade. We wanted to let his teacher know that we are interested in his education and want to be involved in it.
While I was at school, E also got to ring the big bell to start off the week. It is an honor reserved for all kindergartners and E was with a bunch of "leftover" kids who didn't get a chance to do it yet this year. I was chatting with a mom as dads put away video cameras, siblings got wrangled into arms, and moms put away their cameras. She asked me why I was there, I said conference, blahblah. She asked if everyone had a conference, and I said no, we scheduled ours independently. She asked why, and I explained. She said that yes, she was concerned about her son's academic performance, and wondered about it. "Although," she says, "I don't worry about his little sister's performance at all."
"Oh," say I, "is she all about preschool and loving it?" Smile, pointless small talk laughter.
"No," "she's never going to need a job, so it doesn't matter. She won't have to support a family."
"HUH?"
"What should I say in response?"
"WTF?"
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