You Are Not A Cat

I saw the worst commercial tonight. Let me set the scene:

Saturday evening. I'm folding laundry while watching a Law and Order: SVU marathon. I'm wondering how many other soccer moms are watching SVU and folding laundry.

And then it happens. I notice that the commercial is talking to CAT PARENTS. "As a cat parent, you want the best for your cat. . . "

There is something about how there's wheat gluten in some brands of cat food. And chicken meal. And corn syrup. I realize that I've basically seen this commercial before, except it was for organic baby food.

For human babies, I mean.

Because cat parents are fucking cats and they don't watch Law and Order: SVU marathons.

Look, I grew up with cats. I've had cats. I like cats. Usually.

My parents spoil their current cats rotten. Like sometimes you will remove human food from their fridge and then be told not to eat it because they actually bought it for the cats. That's the level of devotion we're talking. And yet they don't call themselves CAT PARENTS.

Or even parents of cats, which would be slightly more correct.

Look, I have no problem with organic/healthy/whatever pet food. As long as you also buy organic for yourself and any human offspring you may have, of course.  I can even handle the place in my neighborhood that makes decorated cookies for pets. You can even get them personalized with your pet's name, because apparently if you love your cat enough, it learns to read. Or something.

When I was a single 30 year old woman with cats I did answer the question, "Do you have any kids?" with "Just my cats." But I smiled to let people know that I was joking. Because even though I didn't have any kids, I knew that being able to leave my cats alone all day meant I wasn't exactly parenting them. I knew that my cats, when ill, would hide until they felt better - unlike children. Or husbands. I knew that my cats did not care whether I bought them Christmas presents or just tossed some balled up paper on the floor - unlike children. I knew that I legally owned my cats - unlike children. I knew that I could force my cats to live with me until one of us died - unlike children (excluding those from very dysfunctional families). I knew that I would never have to teach my cats to write their names, dress themselves, read or any of the other approximately million things that parents have to teach little humans.

If you want to say that your pets are like your children, that's fine. If you want to say, "I could only mother cats", go right ahead. But you're not a "cat parent", okay? You're not a cat. And taking care of an animal, even if you are the most devoted pet owner in the world, is not the same as parenting.

Oh, and did I mention that the commercial showed only single women with their cats? No families, no men, no couples. Just single women calling themselves cat parents. Seriously. It was like a Saturday Night Live parody.

(It was for some product called, "Blue". Don't buy it.)

How Boring Does School Have To Be?

"School is boring," said Lovebug as I woke him this morning. He rubbed his eyes relunctantly, not wanting to get going and start his day. He rolled his eyes as his younger brother told me all the reasons that he does like school. 

It's not that I didn't expect to have this conversation with him at some point. I found school pretty boring too, sometimes. But not in first grade. 

But apparently he's bored during math because he's not allowed to go ahead on the worksheets - they do them TOGETHER. Every time. So I tried to point out the stuff he does like - recess, lunch, art, PE, computers. I asked if he got to read at school because he likes reading. His reply was, "Sometimes. But I don't really like reading." 

Fifteen minutes later he was eagerly reading his Lego Club magazine. 

When I went into Ironflower's room, she continued the conversation. "I just don't like math. I get so bored because we do the worksheets all together too. Though I do like Minute Math, because then I can go at my own pace." 

Having talked to a few other mothers on the playground recently, I have found out that this is a common frustration among the parents. There are a lot of teachers at the school who won't differentiate instruction. And this is a highly ranked school. That's what's so depressing. 

Actually, infuriating. 

It's not about my kids being held back in some way, exactly. I'm sure they will get through their grade level curricula just fine. They're smart, but it's not like I think they'd be doing trigonometry if allowed to go at their own pace. And it's not about them being bored, exactly. Learning to cope with boredom is one of the reasons I send them to public school in the first place. 

It's that differentiated instruction is what good teachers do.** It's that public educators in a well-funded school shouldn't tell parents of kids who aren't doing well to just hire a tutor, as has happened at my kids' school. It's that smart kids who love to learn shouldn't be bored during math and reading. It's that having the whole class doing worksheets together is INEFFECTIVE. 

I'll bring it up at conferences next week, but I don't think I get any farther than all the other former teacher parents who have brought it up before. 

People have suggested that I teach them at home on top of what they're doing at school. I thought about it. And then Ironflower figured out multiplication while they were playing play dough over the weekend. 

I think that I'm just going to encourage them to play together more.

But now I'm wondering if this is common. Does this happen at your child's school? That worksheets are done as a class? And that there are no reading or math groups? No wonder more and more people are homeschooling. 

**Here is a HUGE discussion of differentiated instruction. 

Not Exactly Advice

Okay, so I don't usually give parenting advice on the blog. Unless it's for celebrities. Because clearly, most of them need my help. (Quick tip for Snooki: Don't spray tan your child until he asks for it. And enjoy those baby years, they fly by so fast!) I'm not going to feel qualified to give a lot of parenting advice until my children are all happy, well-adjusted, successful adults. If you're of the same opinion, don't think of it as advice. Think of it as a cautionary tale.

Ironflower's best friend is J. Ironflower and J have been buddies since they met in dance class as 4 year olds. J's mom manages a lovely house, 5 kids and does stuff like take classes at the local college and compete in mixed martial arts. She is way cooler than I am, obviously. But I always consoled myself that she was able to do so many things because she had this wonderful babysitter to help with the kids.

A wonderful babysitter, vetted by an agency, who'd been with the family for years and really seemed to care about the kids. Hell, she seemed to care about my kids too. She even offered to babysit for my kids when she wasn't working for J's family and I had plans to take her up on it for a night out or three.

Except she appears to have disappeared. With cash and J's mom's jewelry. Oh, and even the kids' Nintendo DSes. She stole from the kids she spent the last 3 years caring for.

And the kicker? She did it to her previous employers too. The nanny agency didn't really do a background check on her at all.

At least she didn't hurt the kids. . .except by this total betrayal. J's mom did everything right and this still happened. It totally sucks.

When I was a nanny during college, I worked for a family whose previous nanny had abused one of the kids. They hired me because I was a close friend of a close friend who liked the kids, because after that experience with the nanny agency hire, they didn't trust an agency again.

Since then, I've heard other stories about bad babysitters. Or I've seen them at the park, completely ignoring the kids. (To be fair, though, I've seen parents doing that too.) My kids have been mostly babysat by their grandparents, though we did have some good friends watch Ironflower when she was a baby. Having a regular nanny or babysitter has never been a financial option for us, but even if it was, I'm not sure I could do it now.

Look, I know there are great nannies and babysitters out there. I've seen them at their charges' birthday parties and soccer games. I was one, I like to think. But if you can't even trust a nanny agency to find you one that's not a criminal. . .

Be careful, folks.

(Especially you, Snooki.)

Merkins Have Nothing To Do With Mermaids

Until today, I would have told you that the best thing about being 40 is that there was no Facebook around when I was young and stupid. Because no one needs a timeline of that.  But now that the luxury merkin, or furkin, is a thing, I have to say the fact that I'll never be expected to get one is the best thing about being 40.

A furkin, for those of you (wisely) afraid to click the link, is when a woman completely waxes her pubic hair, then puts on a pubic wig made of dyed fox fur.

A pubic wig, people.

I refuse to further investigate this phenomenon to find out if it stays on during sex or if people into bestiality started it. I will, however, hope that they do a new episode of Real Sex so I can watch practitioners try to justify it. Because really, unless you're very excited by fox fur, or you prefer your women to look like anime characters, why would this be a turn on?

Of course, I never understood vajazzling either. Or anything beyond neatness and cleanliness. Possibly because no man who's gotten near my nether regions has ever said anything like, "Gee, I'd be so much more turned on if you had my initials spelled out in glitter down here," or "Wow, if only your pubes were hot pink and soft, I'd be so happy." I'm pretty sure that when a man gets near the nether regions, all he's thinking is, "I hope I get to have sex soon."

I fear this trend of dressing up the vaginas. I feel like it's telling young women, "There's absolutely no part of you that's acceptable just the way it is." The little feminist in my head says that this could also be an argument for not advertising make-up and photo-retouching to teenagers, but since I'm devoted to tinted moisturizer, I feel that bringing up this point might be hypocritical. Also, make-up and photo-retouching are not physically painful, but waxing sure as hell is. Not to mention, what happens when the furkin is removed? That's gotta hurt too.

Not that I'll ever have to find out.