Being a Grandmother

Mother’s Day was not long ago, and aside from fawning over the cutely colored, misprinted construction paper cards that you will keep forever, many of us reflect back on our own childhoods and how we feel about our own mothers.  Of course if you keep going down that road, you wind up at the intersection of mother and grandmother, where you can sit down in the shade of your family tree and think about your mother’s new role in your created nuclear family, and maybe even the changes Mom has made.  For example, we never had candy in the house growing up!  Or soda!  Or any cereal that had “cookie” in the name!  What gives???  So I asked my mom:  What changes when you become a grandmother?  How is your relationship with my kids different than your relationships with my siblings and me?  Are these all the Hershey kisses you have or are there more in the pantry?

 

My mom wrote me her thoughts, and here they are, exactly as she wrote them:

 

It is said that grandchildren are the reasons that you don't kill your own children.  I think that's probably true.  Treating them differently seems to be the result of having more time, having no responsibility for them growing up in a certain way, having more disposable income, and of course, the fact that they provide a window into a world that's brand new--rather than the cynical window we develop through adulthood.  So grandchildren are magic.  And they are all perfect!!!  They are who they are and that is to be celebrated.  So all the time spent with grandchildren is a great gift.

  

So, we can eat ice cream before dinner, we can even eat ice cream for dinner!

We can stretch bedtime.  They can eat wherever and whatever they want to, or nothing.  They can have whatever toy or electronic thing they want, and the limits are set by their parents, not me.  It is my job to spoil them--their parents' job to discipline and mold them. 

 

And grandchildren KNOW you love them unconditionally and that covering them with kisses is to be expected.  And if you take them out individually, they can be king or queen--no sharing. Grandchildren listen to your stories, especially about their parent, and share their lives with you. 

 

Don't misunderstand, it is not okay to act bratty, throw tantrums, or any of the other manipulations they employ on their parents.  Even teenagers are pretty careful about that.  Grandchildren are to be adored, and grandparents are there to adore them.

 

My grandchildren are the funniest, wittiest, smartest, kindest, and best in the world--they're mine!

Just as it is impossible for us to understand what our moms really went through until we became moms, I expect you don’t really know how it feels to be a grandmother until you become one.  I am personally looking forward to the “ice cream for dinner” part.

Thank you Linda Saliamonas.  You showed me how to be a woman, and you continue to teach me as a woman.  You are smart, creative, interesting, caring, and most importantly, you didn’t kill me.

Preparing for Snowpocalypse

I moved to NYC in 2000.  Being from Chicagoland (because that's what we call suburbia up there,) I didn't have to wear my real winter coat for at least 3 years in NY.  You know THE winter coat, the one that is so warm you don't actually need the thermal union jack, two turtlenecks and three sweaters under it?  You can actually wear it over your regular clothes, and you are still toasty in -5.  Your face may be frozen into Droopy Dog covered in icicles of mucus and saliva (despite your ski mask, scarf, and hat) but your limbs, torso, and hopefully legs are warm.  In Chicago (land), no one looks at you twice since everyone looks like that, and you keep that coat until it is down to the very last feather of whatever mutant bird from Greenland "donated" it, because it is VERY hard to find a coat like that.  Of course The coat moved with me from residence to residence  I even pulled it out a few times in Ohio, but NYC, just not cold enough.  Especially if you take the subway.  It may be 25 outside, but it is 75 in the subway and you and every other Frosty the Snowman in July are stuck in this steam bath until you reach your destination.  No way.  Not only was it not cold enough for THE jacket on the streets of  NYC, it was easier to for me to wear a sweatshirt if it was over 25 degrees and I was using mass transit.

Eventually I did get rid of THE coat.  I retrospect, I should have mailed it back to the Midwest, but I can only hope it gave some homeless person the night sweats so badly that he thought he had gone through a heroine withdrawal and went on to become president of his own online gambling casino.  I had worn THE coat a few times, and it just didn't work in NYC.  I bought a lighter coat, more suited to an environment where the water in your eyes doesn't freeze and it is sometimes actually too cold to snow, and I was very happy in this new coat.  Actually I still am, despite the fact that the weather is changing quite a bit in The Big Apple.

In my opinion, it's still not that cold here, but it is starting to snow more regularly.  When I first moved here, I was actually kind of astonished that it barely snowed.  I mean NYC is far from the tropics, I just figured it snowed like home.  Nope.  Not even close.  It did snow once in a while though.  Maybe a few times a winter, and everyone made a big deal about it.  Store shelves resembled those of the day of the Rodney King verdict.  Everything was closed and cancelled, and it snowed!  Like 18".  Really?  When it snowed 2 feet in Chicago (land) and the school bus door could only open six inches, you best contort yourself through it and fast.  That bus was on a schedule, and not going to be late to school.  I remember one time in high school when it was my birthday. I was walking down the stairs to get to class and I looked out the window and it was a blizzard.  My birthday is April 20th.

Anyway, due to no global warming whatsoever, every year NYC winters are getting more snow.  2006 was a big snowy winter, and the reason I know this is not because I lived here (I mean I did, but in my mind it is still always a big snowy winter.  You can take the girl out of Chicago...) but because this year, right now in fact, we New Yorkers are bracing ourselves for the biggest blizzard to ever hit the city:  Snowpocalypse!  A beast even bigger than whatever happened in 2006... which I believe was called Snowmaggedon, but don't quote me on that.  Now I get it.  This is a big city filled with millions of people, so the governing bodies have to bear in mind a shitload of safety concerns.  It hasn't even snowed that much and I'm sure there are already lawsuits filed by 500 people who slipped on a frosty street.  Not only that, but this is like porn for the newscasters.  Is it snowing in Afghanistan?  No!  It's snowing right here in NYC!  And that poor Asian woman is once again being sent out in a fashionable anorak to report from the most windblown place that the news van could find.  I admit it.  After Hurricane Sandy destroyed most of South Brooklyn, including half of our home, I take these overhyped weather reports much more seriously.  I get it.  It's going to snow...probably a few feet, and the wind is going to be strong, maybe 60 mph in some places.  Since I live in Brooklyn, most people's attitudes are, "I survived Sandy.  Bring it on."  Seriously, it's true.  The hurricane was pure devastation.  This is snow.  I am well aware that snow brings it's own set of problems (You can take a girl out of Chicago...) so I did my best to be prepared.  Batteries of all sizes and shapes?  Check.  Bread, milk, peanut butter, potato chips and beer?  Check.  Candles that have had the dust wiped off of them?  Check. Snow shovel that your daughter is not allowed to touch since she left it on the ground to get buried under 3 feet of snow in an undisclosed location? Check.  Full tank of gas?  Sorta check. Salt and weird blue ice melting stuff that probably contains plutonium?  Check.  All plans cancelled for tomorrow? Check.  I am as ready as I will ever be. So now we wait.

The snow wasn't supposed to start until 1pm.  Cool.  I had a training session at my gym at 10am.  No problem.  At least I would get those arms pumped for shoveling.  About a week ago, my gym, Ballys, became 24 Hour Fitness.  Everyone found out because of the 24 Hour Fitness sticker stuck to the door, but that's beside the point.  The point is, since Ballys became 24 Hour Fitness, it has actually never been open 24 hours.  So I was in the middle of my training when the announcement came that the gym would be closing at 2pm.  Mind you it hadn't even started snowing yet.  Then, when the first flake of snow hit the sidewalk, another announcement came in that said the gym would be closed the following day.  What?  Ballys was open during Sandy, but 24 Hour Fitness closes early and doesn't even open at all?  I will now be referring to the gym as Sometimes Open Fitness, that is on the rare occasions when I don't refer to it as Ballys.

So I picked up the kids (who I almost forgot about since I was so dumbfounded that the gym was closing 8 hours early at 2... oh yeah...my kids get out of school at 2.  Better go get them,) and I texted my husband that I would be stopping at Walgreens on the way home.  Did he need anything?  He texted something back, but honestly, it was so lame that I immediately forgot about it.  So I am in Walgreens.  I figure one last stop juuuust in case.  Picked up some more batteries, some snacks, some milk.... now what was that thing my husband texted me?  I left my phone in the car, and try as I may, it is impossible for me to recall his request.  I stroll down the aisles...a razor? No. Shampoo?  No. Tylenol?  No.  A Chia Pet?  Screw this I'm checking out.  I pay way to much for what little I got, and get back in the car looking for my phone.  I scroll through his messages, and there it is...scotch tape. WTF?????  Scotch tape?  Really?  Why the fuck would anyone need scotch tape for a snow storm?  I would have understood if it was just scotch.  I mean a bunch of my friends texted me from around the country to make sure I had rum, vodka, wine and tequila.  Surprisingly, none of them mentioned scotch tape, and I know it wasn't scotch with stupid auto correct because the man has so much scotch that the liquor cabinet is overflowing. Duct tape would make more sense.  After all we do have 2 kids who won't stop whining and talking, but we have duct tape.  Scotch tape?   So I start thinking, "Why do we need scotch tape for Snowpocolypse?"  Seriously, am I missing something?  Might we need to tape  a note on the door in case our doorbell isn't working?  I don't know if scotch tape can withstand 60 mph winds.  Do we have presents to wrap?  Do you give presents to people in a snowstorm?  No. Ridiculous.  Scotch tape?  Did he rip our home insurance policy?  Does it even cover snow damage?  Is he planning on taping the odd lot of our candles together to make a torch?  Won't the tape melt from the wax?  Is he planning on taping an "X" on every window like with duct tape for the hurricane but since it's a snowstorm you only need a lighter tape?  I went back into the store, bought the tape (he asked for it,) and all the way home, all I could think of was wtf this man needed scotch tape for in a blizzard.  Was a page of the How To Survive A Blizzard  book ripped?  Did his iPhone screen crack?  Is he going to kidnap a Con Ed guy if the power goes out and make him restore it but scotch tape his eyes shut so he doesn't see us?  Was one of the labels coming off of one of his bottles of scotch?

When I finally got home, I tore out of the car, ripped open the door and found him on the phone.  I paced back and forth until he finally hung up and burst out the inevitable question, "WHY IN THE HELL DO YOU NEED  SCOTCH TAPE FOR SNOWPOCOLYPSE???"  "Oh," he looked at me like I was a lunatic, "we don't need it right now but I used the last piece and I figured since you were going to Walgreens you could grab some."  Omg.  Of course.  Might as well stock up on the scotch tape just in general.  I mean you never know if one of our neighbors does have a birthday tomorrow, or a bow falls off a Barbie Doll.

So while most of my neighbors are drinking wine, watching a movie or watching the snow fall, I am going to pour myself a glass of the finest red we have with a screw top, and scotch tape something.  Maybe I will scotch tape a label on a folder.  Maybe I will write a letter and scotch tape the envelope shut.  Maybe I will just stick a piece of scotch tape to the wall.  Why?  Because the tape was on the Snopocolypse shopping list, and I can.

Happy Winter Break

You know you have been married a long time when you buy a crotchless net bodysuit to spice up your sex life, and while you are digging under the bed to find the one pair of stilettos that you keep threatening to give to Goodwill, your husband asks, "What is that on the back?  Is that a tag?"  Forget the net, forget the non existent crotch, it is the tag that attracts his attention, and I have to admit, why is there a tag on a net bodysuit?  On a side note, it wasn't even attached and came off in 2 seconds.  Who knew?

So in the spirit of trying new things, we broke another cherry for the holiday break (when I was in school mine was a Christmas break, but that was in the seventies when we went out for "Oriental" food.)  This year we decided to drive to Florida to see my family.  I know a lot of people do this, but we never have.  Partly because the interior of our car looks like a homeless family with 5 kids has lived inside for three years, and partly because I drive so much in general, the thought of a massive drive was extremely unappealing.  But, at close to $4,000 in airfare, we were driving, drop the homeless family at a shelter.

We decided to leave on Christmas day.  The kids wanted to open their presents from Santa before we hit the road.  They left interesting letters next to the cookies and milk.  Things like, "I know I have been really bad this year but I promise to be better next year," and "Hey, we are only human.  Everyone makes mistakes, so can I get a stuffed Pikachu?"  Santa, having a tequila buzz, was kind of upset by these notes and blamed his parenting for his kids' low self esteem, but he is ok with it now.

Anyway, for some reason, my husband had it in his head that we would be leaving for Florida at around 10am.  This did not exactly mesh well with the tequila intake (which turned out to be more than a buzz,) so I had to take a nap before we left or there was a good chance of me puking in the car before we left Brooklyn.  In retrospect, the puke smell would  have not really been that different than the general car smell, which we have unsuccessfully been trying to locate for at least 6 months.  Anyway, the kids were really excited and packed themselves, got their coats on and were waiting in the car by 3:00.  My husband joined them around 3:45.  I didn't get my shit together til about 4:gatorade, and off we went.  About 6 blocks away, the 10 year old diva announced she had forgotten her glasses and we had to go back.  I had to pee anyway, so that was fine with me.  My husband started doing some deep breathing exercise and back we went.  So, we officially hit the road, glasses on Diva, my bladder empty, at 4:16pm.  I begged my husband to wait for 4 minutes so that we could leave at 4:20, but he wasn't having it.  In his mind we were leaving 6 hours late.  In my mind, 4:20 would have been a cool departure time.

The kids were actually really good in the car.  They played on their electronics and I was even able to drive a few hours before I had to pee.  That's when I came up with my mission.  I was going to pee in every state!  If you don't really know me, you should know that my bladder is the size of a pea (my 6 year old calls me the Queen of Pee...whatever,) so I knew I could do it, and everyone has to have short term goals.  It makes the long term goal feel so much more obtainable.  Plus when you are chugging water and Red Bull, you have to pee, so NJ was easy.  We needed gas anyway.  Now we were definitely on the road.  The "We are going to have so much fucking fun they are going to have to pry the fucking smiles off our fucking faces" and Wallyworld references got us through Delaware (where I had to pee,) before we had to change topics.  Listening to Panic! At the Disco five times got us into Virginia, where we drove for a while and decided to stop for the night, get a good night's sleep and reach our destination the next day.  Surprisingly enough, after an entire day of eating nothing but candy, fruit snacks, and Slim Jims, the kids fell asleep rather fast.  We all did.  We had a big day ahead of us.

The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful.  I missed peeing in NC which I was not happy about and bitched my way through SC (where I peed twice!) and Georgia, where we conveniently needed gas and a restroom. The Kindle and the DS eventually ran out of juice, but we got to St. Augustine at about 10pm. I have to say, seeing my family absolutely washed away any problems I had, including missing the NC pee spot, and having my Panic! At the Disco cd replaced. 

I hadn't seen my two nephews and brother-in-law for two years, and hugging them was so awesome.  My oldest nephew, who was the first baby I ever fell in love with and have his first initial tattooed on my thigh, is now a surly teenager who wears a hoodie and jeans constantly (even in the Florida summer heat.  At one point he said to me, "You know I am actually hot right now but I will never wear anything else.") sleeps til 4pm and hasn't bathed in a month, was even happy to see me.  I could tell because he let me kiss my hand and put it on his cheek without throwing up.  And my 9 year old nephew (who once spontaneously told me, "I am glad I'm not a ferret, to which I concurred,) was so excited he gave me a big warm hug and immediately started picking on his 6 year old cousin.  Needless to say, we had the best time ever.  My brother-in-law does stand up comedy and had me dying, and my mom and I didn't get into a fight once, even when I drank all of her cooking wine and the rest of her Jack Daniels straight from the bottle.

The kids went swimming despite the freezing pool and didn't start fighting for at least 10 minutes when the 9 year old hit the 6 year old from behind with a pool noodle.  After being reprimanded by my sister, the 9 year old explained, "What's the point of a pool noodle if you cant hit someone with it?"  My sister and I tried not to crack up.  Well, at least he's not a ferret.  We also took them to a bounce place called Rebounders which awesomely sold alcohol.  They also sold women's tank tops that had "Rebounders" across the chest.  Really?  well it is the South.

One of the coolest things we did was take my nephews to pick out their Christmas presents.  We coaxed the 13 year old out of his room with the promise of Bose headphones.  My sister said he was ecstatic, which she could tell because he wasn't scowling and slouching as much.  He wore them every second since he got them, and it filled my heart.  The 9 year old is into magic.  Like really into magic.  St. Augustine is a tourist mecca since it is America's oldest city and home to the Fountain of Youth (which I am allergic to because it is sulfer water, go figure...) so my 9 year old nephew sets up a table on the most popular tourist filled street and does magic tricks.  He is actually excellent at slight of hand, especially considering how small his hands are, and when he passes the top hat at the end, he has been known to walk away with $50-$75 a day.  He wanted an expensive magic trick which we got for him, and he learned it in about an hour and continued to amaze us for the rest of our trip.

But far and away, the best part of the trip for me was hanging out with my sister.  OMG, she is my absolute favorite person in the whole world.  Yeah, she is four years younger so I may have charged her 25 cents to enter the room we shared.  Yeah, I may have traded her all of my Smarties for all of her chocolate bars on Halloween assuring her she got the better end of the deal.  But as adults, we couldn't laugh more, understand each other more, or love each other more.  We had the best time doing nothing much.  We went to the outlet mall with four kids (nightmare,) we went shopping for nothing (I spent $100,) and we bought champagne from Aldi for $3.99 to ring in the new year.  We laughed at our kids, our husbands, my mom (sorry Mom but that's what daughters do,) and just everything.  I felt like I was finally at peace.  Finally able to be who I really am.  Finally able to relax.  It was wonderful, and well worth the drive.  Thank you Carina, for just being you.  You understand me, and love me for just being me, and I absolutely feel the same way about you.

New Year's Eve was fun  My nephew did a magic show.  We watched the whole Times Square mayhem from the comfort of a family filled living room.  We drank a few bottles of champagne and decided we like Andre better than Korbel.  My brother-in-law actually left (as in drove away) with an hour to go declaring it a stupid tradition and us pathetic, but he did come back about 5 minutes til midnight.  When the countdown reached one minute I figured I would pop open the Aldi champagne.  Of course I couldn't get the cork out no matter how hard I tried.  Seriously, it was like cemented into the bottle.  Probably because the bottles are not flying off the shelves at the rate of Michael Jordan's latest shoe... So as the countdown reached 2 I grabbed whatever was open at the time, and rang in the new year the most ultimate way I could:  with my sister, and my family, and love all around me.  It was amazing.  Of course what none of us knew at the time was that there was something else all around us.  We found that out later.

The next day was bittersweet.  The last day of the visit.  Sad to think about leaving.  I wish it would have stayed bittersweet, but alas, it turned into a layer of hell.  Actually it would have been a layer of hell if my sister and her husband didn't make me laugh so much.  Turns out that not only did we bring Christmas gifts to St. Augustine, we also brought lice.  Yes, lice.  I fucking hate bugs, and lice is my worst nightmare.  My kids had it almost exactly a year ago, and whaddaya know, I guess they like coming in for the holidays.  We did all the over the counter stuff since every Dr. was closed on New Year's day, washed everything, and figured we had no choice really but to see our pediatrician when we got home.

The next day, the goodbyes were sad, and weird for everyone except the 13 year old since nobody wanted to touch each other, and this time we were on our way only two hours later than the time my husband had in his head.  I don't know where he comes up with these absolute times.  Frankly I consider them more of an estimate, but in any case we were back on the road and bound for Brooklyn. 

This time we stayed in a hotel in NC with a pool.  Unfortunately chlorine does not kill lice, but it was worth a shot.  We left an hour later than my husband's absolute/suggested time, and arrived home at around 10pm.  I was psyched.  This time I got to pee in every state!  There were furious negotiations about NJ, but we needed gas.  I did my happy dance.

So back in Brooklyn with two warning lights on in the car, our first stop the next day was the pediatrician who confirmed the continued existence of the lice (those little bastards are worse than cockroaches) and proceeded to prescribe something that no pharmacy in at least 3 out of 5 boros could get.  So, after a day of phone calls to the doctor and various pharmacies, we are finally deloused (hopefully,) and the washer and dryer have been running nonstop.

So, all in all, even with the lice (UGH!) I would have to say this was my favorite break ever.  There is nothing that can compare to a family who loves each other.  My 6 year old may have picked up a few choice words like "cunt," and "douche," which he used on his 9 year old cousin who hit him with a pool noodle, but I know they will be close as adults because there is just so much love between my sister and I, you can almost see it, and you can definitely feel it throughout the family.  It's sad that I see the lady who works at Walgreens more than I see my sister, so we really need to spend more time together.  Love is the most beautiful feeling in the world, and I love my family with all of my heart. I think we have decided to make this trip a yearly thing.  I just hope the lice come to a different conclusion.

Some Creative Ways to Hide Your Gifts

For a while there seemed to be a billion holidays making their way into the mainstream.  They were popping up like ads on YouTube without the “Skip after 5 seconds.”  I learned a lot from my preschooler in 2007:  Kwanzaa, Ramadan, Chinese New Year, Diwali…  Not that these holidays didn't exist for millions of people for millions of years, they just weren't in the mainstream for me.  Granted I came from the suburban Midwest, I just never made a Kwanzaa poster or a construction paper Diwali candle  in school.

Now, there seem to be fewer holidays than ever.  Halloween costumes were already in the discount bin by October 1st, and Christmas trees were up in the stores by October 2nd.  I actually was really bummed out when I went to the store and had to rummage through a pile of discounted skeleton masks to find the one thing in the whole store with a turkey on it:  a plastic platter that was already marked down to $1.50 around mid October.  In fact, the first week of November, it was already Black Friday according to a popular electronics store.

As a result of the holiday shopping in September phenomenon, it is never too early to think about where to hide the gifts that retailers are aggressively pushing on you while you are still folding beach towels.  Personally, I never wanted to find my gifts.  I liked to be surprised, but I know a lot of kids turn the house upside down and construct a hidden tunnel into their parents room in search of their impending treasures.  With this in mind, I have compiled a list of places that should be pretty safe to hide your loot.

 Obviously the best place to hide your much sought after gifts is the attic if you have one.  If your kids are motivated enough to form a human chain to get the ceiling door open, there is a good chance that your attic is so packed with stuff (seasonal clothes, seasonal decorations, your friend’s shelf unit that is too big to fit in her new apartment, all of your brother’s belongings he left with you while he went to Europe for a month, two years ago…) there is no way your kids can navigate the clutter.  There is a better chance they will fall through the pink insulation, and there is no way they can get back up there with broken legs.

Another good place to hide your 15% off stash is at someone else's house.  Could be a relative, a close friend, or a neighbor, but chances are the kids will not engage in breaking and entering, especially if you sit them in front of a “Lockup” marathon one weekend afternoon.

A pretty sly way to hide your holiday goods is to keep them on layaway at the store
 if possible.  It's kind of like free storage, and it is extremely unlikely your kids will hijack your car AND have your layaway ticket at the same time.

One pretty good place that my husband uses regularly to hide the kids’ holiday cheer is keeping the gifts at work.  I think a lot of people do this, since no one ever comments on the various packages strewn across his desk, and he in turn doesn't bat an eye at any coworkers office that resembles the Frozen aisle at Toys R Us.

You can also outsmart you little detectives by hiding gifts in your car.  Personally, although there seems to be a lot of good hiding places in my SUV, like under three layers of juice boxes, dance bags, karate uniforms, lost school documents I am supposed to sign and overdue library books, my car is a bad hiding place.  Somehow while my little urchins are hunting for a carton that actually has a juice box in it, they always seem to notice if something new has been added to the mess.  Whether it be an elephant or a tootsie roll, those eagle eyes find it in mere seconds.  However, if you have more than one car, you may be able to get away with hiding gifts in the auto without the car seats, empty food wrappers, and the smell that no one can figure out what or where it is.  In some cases, a Mini Cooper may be a better hiding spot than an SUV.

If you really want to go out a limb with your hiding spots, you can try your garage if you have one.  Although this may be on the kids’ gift finding radar, if you are sneaky enough, it can be done.  If you have one of those garages so packed with stuff that there is no place for your car, you might try stashing stuff in an empty box with a motor oil logo that is way in the back.  Or better yet, a box marked “Educational Materials.” There is no way the kids will be going near that!

If you really want to be a risk taker, you can go buy a box of those industrial black contractor bags, pile the gifts into however many bags you need, tie them up and put them next to the garbage can outside.  The downside about this method is that you may accidentally throw them out with the garbage, so you may want to put a colored ribbon or something around the twist tie, and hold off on taking out the garbage while intoxicated.  At least until after the holidays.

An excellent place for hiding small gifts like electronics or video games is actually the most obvious…your safe.  Wherever it is, there is no way your little buggers can get in there.  And if in a moment of weakness when you were thinking of your inevitable mortality, you told the kids where the key to the safe is, move it.  Put in in your pantyhose, and if you don't have a safe, you can buy one.  Right now they are 30% off for the holidays.

Another place people have told me they hide gifts is in that little room where the furnace and hot water heater are.  In my house growing up, these clunky metal contraptions were situated in the laundry room, and we tended to stay away from them because there was fire involved.  I suppose if you are super confident in your placement skills, behind the furnace could be a hideaway option.  Just remember, there is a tag on all kids pajamas informing us that they are not flame retardant.

There are also a  couple of similar and decent places for prying eyes to avoid:  the the crawl space or the shed, if you have one.  Both of these places are generally dark and creepy.  There may be some
cobwebs in the crawl space, and precariously placed rakes, beach chairs and sharp gardening tools in the shed, but the main deterrent is the darkness and mustiness which very well could keep searching little hands away.

Finally, I would like to give an honorable mention to hiding this year's gifts underneath last year's gifts.  Let's face it, the last time anyone played with last year's gifts was last December 27th, and there is something to be said for hiding things in plain, overlooked, sight.

Yes, it can definitely be a challenge to hide your holiday prizes, and really it's up to you to decide what is best for your situation.  I know a lot of people stash stuff under their bed and in their closets.  I left those places off the list because honestly, I think those are the first places kids look when no one is watching, and there is no way I want my kids under my bed… At least until I come up with alternate explanations for half the Adam and Eve catalogue.

Realization

I heard this saying a long time ago, "You don't get the child you want, you get the child you get."  I always thought that was so profound.  Seriously, it made me take a step back and reevaluate my expectations as a mom.  This child is not me.  This child is not my husband.  This child is herself, a unique set of genes which created a unique little person.  I realized from this simple quote, that I was trying to push my multi faceted child into my box, and no matter how much I pushed, she was never going to fit.  Everyone's box is custom made, and she has her own.  I swear, this realization totally changed my life.

And now, as I am navigating a different situation, this saying comes back to me.  Slightly altered, but just as poignant, "You get the situation you get, not the situation you want.  If you do not adapt yourself to the situation that actually exists, you will always be disappointed."  It's so true it gives me chills.  And the reality as I see it seems to be that too many people are incapable of understanding this concept.  For example, the world we live in has become technology based.  My nephew had a seminar on using the iPhone in kindergarten.  Now he is in 3rd grade so no doubt his kindergarten info is obsolete, but the fact is, our children's world is far different than ours was, and no matter how tightly you close your eyes, it is what is is.  Adapt or be sad.

Honestly, this is not news.  Every generation is shocked and offended by the behavior and ideas of the following generation.  There was "New Math," now there is "Common Core," but whatever it's name and process is, parents can't do it.  They didn't learn it that way.  Records became 8- tracks which became CDs which became mp3s which became raindrops in an invisible cloud that is hopefully storing all of our stuff.  In some cases, you can resist the technological/generational advances.  Keep your record player, keep your 8-track player, hell, keep a phonograph if that's what you want, but remember, you can't begrudge your kids or grandkids for listening to their virtual music, because that is their world and that is their way.  Don't be offended that your children have no concept of cover art, it is what it is, and this is their time.

I think one of the biggest problems people have with the-times-they-are-a-changing, is that the previous generations interpret the actions of the modern generation as rude and lazy.  In adapting to the newest generational status quo, many actions are not done out of rudeness or laziness, they are just the way an action has changed.  For example, a long time ago, people made exquisite calligraphy written, wax sealed invitations to a party that were sent out on horseback.  That gave way to handwritten cards delivered personally, which gave way to preprinted cards from a card store that were mailed,  and now we have evite, the online, postage free, font chosen, clip art laden invitation which gets to the recipient in 10 seconds (depending on your internet connection and your updated contact list.). This is not rude or lazy for this generation, it's merely how you invite people to something, plain and simple. So if you are offended at getting an evite to your grandson's birthday party, get over it.  This is the way it is now, and just be thankful that you figured out how to get to the website, and that "Groovy" means you will be attending.  If you choose to be offended, that is solely on you.

I bring this up because I am advocating for my children, and also in a large part, for myself.  It has come to my attention recently that we have not been following the plan of other people's expectations, and although not unreasonable, not really feasible in the world of today, which by the way, is the only world my kids have ever known, at least the last 10 and 6 years of it.  I can tell my kids to write Thank You notes.  After all, that is what my parents taught me, but sending out emails is the way my children's generation communicates, so to them, an email is just as personal as a physical card.  Remember, their entire music catalogue is in a virtual cloud that they have never seen.  And I think, even more personal, is a text.  With a text, people are actually holding their device.  An email, well, could be (gasp!) typed on a keyboard, which I expect will soon go the way of the wooly mammoth and the phonograph.

The bottom line is this, whenever you grew up, your childhood, your child rearing years, helping your kids select colleges... Those times are gone.  No matter how much you enjoyed or hated them, they are memories, nostalgia, slices of your personal pie, the past.  As much as ideas in the past were drilled into your head by your parents, society, and whoever else effected you, those ideas have changed.  Some of them are even gone.  You basically have two choices:  you can evolve by learning the ways of the present, which in many cases means spending more time communicating through technology, or you can cling fiercely to the tenents  you learned many years ago and  often become unhappy with the way situations are handled, and disappointed with people for being who they are rather than who you expect them to be.  My advice is always to move forward, and by that I don't mean buying the latest technology and gadgets on the market.  I mean really move forward with your understanding and acceptance of the current world around you.  Don't be offended by the way things are done in the present day.  Don't compare your standards of years ago to today and judge the latter inferior.  If you do this, I promise you will never be satisfied.  Of course some things never change:  kids will always be whining about something, half the country will always think the government sucks, everything will always be better on sale... But in the end, it is up to you.  You can sit home and wait for your phone to ring, or check your texts and emails and lol.

It's Been Awhile

  Sorry, but I must admit it's been awhile since I posted a new blog.  I know this because 1.  It HAS been awhile, and 2.  I forgot my password. It actually took me four times trying different passwords until I decided to change it, only to have the website tell me I couldn't use my new password because it was my old password.  Wtf?  Personally, I am all about the security questions.  Where did you go to kindergarten?  I remember that.  How could I forget Mrs. Gruel, possibly the worst name for a kindergarten teacher in existence (unless of course there is one out there named Ida Hatzkids from Romania or somewhere.  I concede that would be worse.).  What is your father's middle name is a good one.  Of course that can be identified in about 5 seconds on Google, but at least I know it.  I think there should be a new level of security questions though.  Questions that even your mom couldn't answer if she was trying to hack into your account to find out if you are still alive since you never call or write.  Questions like, "Who is the first person you ever smoked pot with?"  Or "What was the last name of the person you lost your virginity to?"  Actually first name may be better in the scheme of things, and "Guy in the parking lot of Monsters Of Rock" would have to be acceptable.
  So, what is happening lately that is blog-worthy?  Nothing really out of the ordinary since we did just have a nice long 7 week summer vacation.  Wtf?  What happened to three months?  It takes the first two weeks just to decompress from school, and the next five weeks to do summer homework.  Seriously!  I never had summer homework.  I get the fact that you don't want the kids to forget everything they never understood during the school year, but I think a few worksheets would suffice. Four book reports for the five year old, and an author study and book analysis for the nine year old, with questions like "Write an alternate ending for the story," and "Choose three characters, list two character traits and compare them to the author's character traits."  Wow.  It's a miracle we could squeeze dance camp and aquarium camp in our precious seven weeks.  It's ok though.  The nine year old stayed up til 10pm the night before school started finishing her work.  God forbid she took my advice of doing it early so she could enjoy her summer.  Her brother of course nailed down those book reports in record time.  After all, he had four book reports a week in kindergarten.  Then of course he got the Minecraft figures that I bribed both of them with upon the completion of their summer homework, and proceeded to play with them in his sister's face for the rest of the summer.  That made for happy family time.
  My Mom came to visit from St. Augustine, FL.  That was nice.  We did nothing since every time I plan something she complains about it.  This time she got to complain about not doing anything.  I decided I like those complaints better because at least I don't have to spent my kids' college money on Broadway tickets or something.  She got to fill us in on the medical marijuana business she is considering.   I found out about it from a video she posted on Facebook of a news report they did on it in FL.  I had a whole piece about it in this blog, but she asked me to please remove it, so I did.  It's funny because I got all my info about it basically from Facebook and a public news story, but I am a somewhat obedient daughter, so I removed it.  Honestly, I don't want to be an accessory anyway.  Suffice to say that I am considering starting a internet donation fund to bail my 72 year old cutting edge sign-of-the-times mother out of federal prison, and I think I actually have a few donors nailed down.  I personally am on the fence right now.
  So, not much other excitement during the summer.  I'm sure that I will have a lot more blog worthy experiences once school gets into full swing.  I mean it's only been in session two days, and I'm pretty sure I was called a "fucking bitch" in Russian on the first day of school.  Like that's never happened before?  Please.  Btw, I'd much rather be called a fucking bitch than a can't-get-laid bitch.  I mean really.  Then on school day two, a woman was standing in the street blocking traffic talking to someone, so my husband honked, and the woman flipped out and started screaming something about how we need to wait, so I said we were trying to drop our kids off at their school right down her street, so she jumps out and stands in front of our car like some psychopathic Ghandi on crack, to which I jump out of my car in full workout attire (including my metal band shirt du jour) and tell her to get out of the way and stop acting like a maniac.  She starts yelling at me that she has to take her kids to school, too, so I politely advise her to then get into her car and out of the street.  After repeating that suggestion a few times as she raged on, she finally did.  When we got to school and related our story to the principal (who just happened to be standing outside,) he told us that was the same lady who called the city help line to report the school for having a fire drill at an inconvenient time, and I believe he said she almost ran him over with her car, so I guess it's just business as usual.
  More to come as the incredulous, ridiculousness happens.  I will keep you posted.  Be happy, and don't forget to make time for adventures within your own journey!
  Xxxx
Marielle

Inspiration from a Great Friend

  As you probably know, I am not a big fan of the core curriculum.   In fact, I just had one of those long post exchanges on one of my friends fb posts with one of her friends who probably thinks I have a screw loose (if she only knew!). She was defending the core curriculum emphatically.  She said she works in education and her kindergartener is reading and writing and doing math and the core is the magical system for making this all happen.  Umm... Btw, most 5 and 6 year olds learn to do that stuff in kindergarten.  The first year of organized education shapes their malleable little minds and fills the spaces between Dora and why-is-my-sister's-cookie-bigger-than-mine? With all sorts of useful information like reading, writing and math.  Aside from being little petri dished of lice, viruses, and strep throat, these amazing little people suck in information like sponges, and it is truly one of the coolest things ever to watch your little one learn to read and proceed to announce everything written. "Mommy, what does 'omg those shots were amazing and how hot was that bartender' mean?"  "Where are you reading that?"  "In your phone."  "Give my that you little urchin!  Mommys phone is off limits!"  Guess what, it's not the core curriculum.  It's the general curriculum of kindergarten.  Somehow between my macaroni letters and sparkly Christmas ornaments, I learned reading, writing and 'rithmatic too in kindergarten circa 1973.
  The core, as I have learned from attending various seminars and reading with that amazing flair I got from putting my macaroni letters together, is based on getting students ready for college.  I am not joking.  From five years old, the core is grooming Jr. For the SAT.  Bye bye childhood, hello Ivy League.  Thank you Common Core.  Seriously?  I can not begin to tell you how many ways I think that is wrong, but being me, I will try.
  First of all playing and learning social skills are important parts of being 5 and 6.  They are important throughout your life, and impact everything you do as well as self esteem.  Even, dunt da da, college!  Reading and writing are big of course and you will continue to perfect them, but social skills and play will eventually be taken for granted and put on the back burner.  They will help our younger children the most as they navigate this bigger world they have found in school.  They need to learn through play while they can.  Think about it, they were peeing in their diaper half their lives at this point.  Algebra can wait.
  Also, who says your 5 year old is going to college?  Not only will it be $80,000 a year by then (with no  financial aid available so who is paying for this anyway?) maybe they will want to do something else, like go into acting, or music, or video production.  None of those occupations require a college degree.  Which brings me to my next point, art and music.  Schools are viewing these amazing skills as unnecessary, and the arts are the first classes to get the boot to be replaced by more time to prepare for the tests.  Teachers gear their entire curriculum toward doing well on the test from day one.  I don't know who wrote the test, but s/he is getting more worship than all the current gods put together.  I wonder what Jesus would do if he saw my daughters math homework, or the 7 pages my 5 year old brings home every day?  He'd probably run away and start his own religion....hmmm,....  Honestly, if they want to prepare my 5 year old for college, teach him how to pitch strikes or do a perfect layup shot.  If you start at 5 and keep focusing on it through twelfth grade, not only is he going to college, he's got a scholarship!  Boo ya!
  Honestly, the ELA core is based on reading and answering questions and writing essays on what you read.  Not what you THINK about what you read, but EXACTLY what you read providing at least two examples.  The other day my daughter was afraid to use an adjective because it wasn't explicitly stated in the reading passage.  Really?  Is this how we create bold and innovative thinkers?  Steve Jobs would have spent several years in the fourth grade if that's how it was.  There is actually more critical thinking in the math portion.  You actually have to combine at least one, sometimes three mathematical procedures to get the answers.  Of course then you have to write exactly what you did in every step or you get points off, so you better pay attention.  Big Brother cares about your methodology equally as much as the correct answer.  Good thing Costco doesn't ask you exactly how  you came to the conclusion to buy 1,000 Advil  instead of 2 million.  That's easy though- 1,000 is the smallest amount they carry, AND you have two kids in Common Core.  Two examples!  Your purchase is approved!
  In all honesty, I went to a neurological seminar on brain development in children a few months ago. The Neuropsychologist mapped the average human brain and had a timeline of its development.  Do you know that around 19-22 your brain function actually decreases?  It goes through a pruning process eliminating non-useful brain cells, and then reorders itself to work most efficiently.  19-22, just the age that kids get to college.  Maybe because Common Core will get all kids into college, pruning will become obsolete, and Frat parties will assume that responsibility.  Plus the mediocre social skills will have the kids drinking even more, and pruning?  Save that for the hedges.  Honestly, the neuropsychologist  recommended that kids take a year or two after high school to start college.  Their brains will be better suited, and they will find out how much working at the gap really sucks so they will be more determined to use college as a tool for education.
  Actually, I did get an interesting thought today while I was on the phone with one of my dearest friends ever.  Why don't all kids take the GED after 8th grade?  If they pass it, let them take whatever they fucking want in high school.  Biochemistry?  Ok.  Auto mechanics?  Ok?  Photography? Poetry? Marine biology?  Sure.  They already meet the criteria to pass high school, why not let them be free to explore their real interests?  Or better yet, develop some that allow them to be free thinkers and really learn something aside from how to dissect a passage for two (or more!) examples.
  Truthfully, I understand the premise behind the common core, and it's bullshit.  It's a program bought from a private company that tries to get our children to think along the same lines.  It accounts for learning differences in math by teaching them four ways to do something so they are too confused and end up learning the only way that their parents know, and then go back to the private sector for tutoring since neither you nor your college student babysitter armed with google, and YouTube still  can't figure out how this math we learned twenty years ago works today.  Let's keep that education economy moving, and focus on the perfect layup 12 hours a day on the weekends.  My oldest friend who I met in a brownie daycamp when I was 6 recently brought up this point:  How is it that our hippie 70s parents who were selling pot in the garage and drinking at noon raised all these smart kids who had no trouble with school and testing?  We didn't need tutors and 3 months of pretests.  We had recorders and paper mâché and a compost heap outside.  We had square dancing and gym 3x a week, and had cooking lessons, and beanbag chairs, and library time every day in a massive library with book nooks and tree houses and big soft pillows.  We never watched a movie unless it was from National Geographic, and some kid in the class actually knew how to use the projector and make it stop stuttering (that was probably Bill Gates in his class!). We played strategy games and had experiences, and were asked for our opinions, and most importantly, we learned.
  You know when you are potty training your kid and there are two types of parents.  One type takes the potty everywhere and wears a watch with an alarm set at the times she needs to put her kid on the potty.  The other type lets the kid run around naked half the time and has a cabinet full of Swiffer pads and seventeen pairs of underwear in her purse.  The bottom line is always the same, the kid won't be wetting his pants walking down the aisle, and if he does, he probably shouldn't have had that last shot of Jaegermeister, but hey, his new spouse is now in charge anyway.  Whether or not the core tries to mold your kid into another brick in the wall,  it is up to us, as parents to reinforce our child's opinions, and open their eyes to the arts, and make learning an exciting experience.  One of my biggest fears is that my five year old will be burnt out by 10 with all this forceful feeding of basic algebra and book reports (yes he does 3-4 a week!).  I think he'll be too short to really perfect the layup, but he makes up amazing stories with his animals, and knows every dinosaur there is, what it eats, and how it's social structure works.  Damn if I am going to discourage his ideas.  I'll just tell him to be a brick for the test.  I think he will do just fine.  Actually, I think he will do awesome.  He would probably enjoy making some macaroni letters.  Maybe we will try it next weekend.