Is It Just Me?

So this famous person moved to my town. And I don't mean a Real Housewife. Much as I love watching them on TV, I'm glad my town isn't flashy enough for them to want to film here. Except for that one time they were at this restaurant I never go to.

Anyway, about this actual famous person. I'm not naming her here, because for all I know she's got a crazy stalker and that's why she moved to my tiny town. So why am I mentioning it, then?

Well, I feel kind of bad for her, actually. It struck me, as one woman who had clearly appointed herself "best friend" talked to the famous woman non-stop during basketball practice. Famous woman was so clearly there to watch her kid and people kept coming up to her and coming up to her. It would be one thing to be hounded on the red carpet or to have a photographer follow you in the grocery store, but to have your new neighbors do it while you're wearing sweats and no make-up must really suck.

Lovebug in action. No famous people. 

Lovebug sat next to her son at one point during practice and there seemed to be some poking and pushing. Now, I don't know who started what and I don't think it was a big deal, but in normal circumstances I would have made Lovebug apologize after practice. As practice ended, I got into a conversation with another mom, then I had to talk to Lovebug about interrupting while I talked to the other mom, then I looked at famous woman.

She was almost surrounded by people. I have never seen anyone be this friendly to anyone else new in town.

I decided leaving the poor woman in peace was more important than apologizing.

What's so weird to me is that while there aren't so many (any other?) famous people in our town, there are plenty who grew up in and/or who now live in towns around here. From what I gather from a friend who works there, people are much cooler when Paul Rudd shows up in his hometown bar. And that's in Kansas City, which has considerably fewer famous people.

Of course, for all I know she loves people coming up to the her all the time and thinks I'm terribly rude for not approaching her. What do you guys think?

So Freaking Naive

On one of our earliest trips to the local pool (which is really a small lake, but whatever) this year, a girl slipped off the high dive. She only broke her arm when she hit the freaking wall, thank goodness, but that's enough. My children assured me that they had no interest in going off any of the diving boards, let alone the high one. I sighed with relief.

I am so freaking naive.

Ironflower started asking when she found out some of her friends were going off the diving boards. I managed to put her off until they started going off the diving boards in her swim lessons. On her first trip up to the high dive platform, though, she changed her mind and came back down. I again sighed with relief, because the low and medium diving boards don't freak me out that much.

As long as I am standing there watching. I just feel like the lifeguards don't watch the kids as closely as they should. And their standards are low - there is no deep water test needed for kids to go off the diving boards or swim in the deep water.

It took Ironflower about 3 hours to change her mind about the high dive. I took the kids over to the diving boards because I figured practicing on the low and medium couldn't hurt. Lovebug conquered his diving board fear and happily jumped off the low and medium boards.

And then Ironflower wanted to try the high dive again. I mentioned the girl breaking her arm, right? And that the dive is high? And that even though Ironflower is a pretty good swimmer, she is only 7? And I didn't start doing the high dive until I was like 10? And that I'm paranoid and overprotective about certain things? Okay. 

Some parents, when confronted with the kind of panic I was feeling, might tell their kid no. But I knew intellectually that my panic was ridiculous, even if it didn't feel ridiculous. So I let her go. 

Not only did she not break anything, she absolutely loved it. She's now done it so many times, Lovebug is walking up there with her. He hasn't jumped yet, but I'm no longer naive. I know it's only a matter of time before I have to let him go too. 

Hugmonkey will probably do it when he's 5, because he hates being left behind. 

Until this high dive thing, I was always so thrilled when my kids did things on their own. I was proud (oh, okay, and a teeny bit sad) when they ran into preschool and then kindergarten without a backward glance. I've loved watching (or in Hugmonkey's case, begging) them develop each independent skill. 

But now I realize that the independent skills are only going to get scarier (for me, anyway). Sleep overs. Walking home from school. Using the stove. Driving. 

I think I need a Valium.

Help With My Pathetic Attempt To Be Organized

So, presently I am making spreadsheet to compare and contrast various after school activities for the kidlets. It's part of my newest attempt at being an organized, prepared and well-budgeted person. Last year, I was all, "Hey, do you guys want to try this?" whenever an interesting class or activity popped up and then suddenly we were busy ALL THE TIME. And we didn't even try half the stuff that is available around here. Because, you know, we haven't won the lottery. I also think kids need time to play.

But now I am torn. There's not enough time or budget for the kids to do all the things I want as well as all the things they want. I am having trouble prioritizing. So naturally I thought I would ask the internets how they resolve this dilemma.

Is a climbing class a good idea? They're always climbing on something. 

*How many activities do your elementary school aged kids do?

*How do you choose what activities your kids do?

*What activities did you do as a kid that actually helped you as a teenager and/or adult?

*Are two half hour activities too much for a first grader to have in one day?

Ironflower would like to take 4 hours of dance, piano, theater, jewelry making,  horseback riding* and soccer. Lovebug would like to take his favorite sports class at the Y, martial arts, soccer, basketball, science, hip hop, baseball and swimming. 

I'm also trying to plan for logistics like I can't be in two places at once and how many times a week HugMonkey can be entertained by my phone. 

And costs. 

Now do you see why I need a spreadsheet? And advice?

*This one is not going to happen because we have not won the lottery. But it's on her list.  

Move, Asshole!

Over on Mushroom Printing, it's Shut Your Whore Mouth Monday, aka, SYWMM. That means you can rant on your own blog or in the comments about someone who needs to shut the fuck up. I keep forgetting to do it, because I'm disorganized where blogging is concerned. But today I remembered and I conveniently have the perfect candidate: A guy named Thomas.

Thomas recently wrote to the local paper about how terrible it was that our town has ended rear yard trash pick up. This means that instead of just leaving trash cans by our back doors, we actually have to bring them all the way to the curb! (Actually, we always had to do this on my street, but I digress) Even when it's raining or snowing! You can see why Thomas is so upset, can't you? Especially when the cost for rear yard trash pick up is just slightly more than dental insurance for Board of Education employees*. Thomas thinks it's unfair our taxes are going to pay for the dental insurance of the professionals who educate our children when instead those taxes could be making sure that he doesn't have to haul his trash cans out in the rain!

I am not making this up.

He sees this as 115 families (those that are employed by the Board of Ed) versus 2200 families (those who live in town). Not, you know, that dental insurance is included with Board of Ed jobs everywhere and most people don't have rear yard trash pick up because it's really not that freaking hard to roll the can down the driveway once a week. And not only does he think this, he wrote to the paper about it. After the whole trash pick up thing had already been decided. Last year.

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that Thomas doesn't respect teachers all that much.

I wonder if Thomas gets dental insurance through his own job? (Which, according to my short Google research, could be a little shady). I wonder how he'd feel if his boss cut dental insurance for his employees so the boss could have a limo take him to and from work?

I can't believe I spent 10 minutes researching this guy. I wish he'd SHUT HIS WHORE MOUTH.

*Can you believe rear yard trash pick up for a very small town costs more than dental insurance for over a hundred families? Do you want to start a trash company with me? 

Since I'm Socially Inept. . .

I thought I would get advice where all socially awkward people get advice: the internetz. So. . .

Ironflower is my social butterfly. She makes friends wherever she goes and instinctively handles herself well in social situations. But she's also pretty sensitive, so when she first started talking about . . .um, let's call her Nastygirl. . .last year I didn't take it very seriously. Nastygirl told Ironflower that her Tinkerbell backpack was babyish. Nastygirl said her drawing was ugly. Nastygirl, it turned out, always had a negative comment for Ironflower.

I encouraged Ironflower to ignore Nastygirl, explained that she must be very unhappy. I eavesdropped on a playground conversation or two, wondering if my daughter had brought this on herself. But it sure didn't sound like it. As I got to know Nastygirl's mom, I was really surprised. Nastygirl's mom is really sweet. And seems to have no idea that her daughter hates my daughter. I didn't know how to bring it up and decided not to since Ironflower had other friends in her class.

I was incredibly relieved when they were put in different classes for first grade. It's not so much that Nastygirl was truly upsetting Ironflower anymore, but who needs a constant negative commentary? And I lived in fear of her nice mother suggesting a play date.

But naturally we've run into them twice now that soccer has taken over our lives. At the last game, Nastygirl laughed when Ironflower got hurt. And told her she wasn't any good at soccer. Ironflower is already a little self-conscious about her (lack of) soccer skills, so naturally this didn't help at all. I think at this point it's bothering me more than Ironflower, thought, the poor kid just expects Nastygirl to be, well, nasty to her. But I can't decide if I should say anything to Nastygirl's sweet mom, or just ignore the situation. If my kid was making comments like that, I would want to know. But Hot Guy and I are very big on our kids not turning into bullies or their minions, which I can't say for everyone around here. And honestly, I cannot imagine what I would say in this conversation, how I would say it or if I'm being a total helicopter parent.

What do you think, wise internetz?

Preschool Drama Part 487

Remember how last time I was all, "eating my words"?  Apparently I'm going to have to snort them next time, because they seem to have come back up.*

I was at the park, of course, and heard this mom talking about why she was transferring her kids to another preschool. We'd nodded at each other earlier, because we recognized each other from somewhere. From blatantly eavesdropping on her conversation I realized I knew her from the kids' preschool. And that she too was devastated about the firing of the awesome teacher. So devastated that her kids were going to a different school. So I blundered my way into the conversation she was having with another mom.**

She was under the impression that the awesome teacher had been fired to save money, as she had the highest salary. But of course, that was not confirmed. Which was her biggest gripe - how come no one, not even the awesome teacher, knew exactly why she'd been fired? I felt myself get mad all over again. Then the other mom began describing the new preschool. It sounded wonderful. The poor woman she'd originally been talking to chimed in with how much she loved that preschool.

When I got home, I looked it up online. Not only did it seem to have a similar philosophy and a better physical space, it was affordable too. I phoned and left a message. Now I'm just waiting for the director to call back so that Hugmonkey and I can visit. If he seems excited to go there, then we're switching. If not, I'll be having a nervous breakdown.


*Sorry about the imagery there. I have been extremely punchy ever since Hurricane Irene scared me witless.

**Totally obnoxious, I know. But it seemed better than taking notes while continuing to eavesdrop.

Eating My Words: Preschool Drama Part II

Well, damn.

I finally got the email purporting to explain why the amazing teacher got fired. Except, of course, it didn't explain anything. The email claimed that the amazing teacher DID know why she'd been fired and that they weren't saying more to protect her privacy.

I did not like that email.

Even though I was relieved that it didn't say something like, "The amazing teacher is awesome, but we fired her because she forgot to teach a few Bible lessons last year" or "The amazing teacher is a fine person, but she broke her contract by getting drunk at the Blue Moon restaurant a few weeks ago." It still didn't answer my questions.

So I sent Facebook messages and emails and smoke signals out to see if anyone knew anything else.

Most people responded that they trusted the school and the director to do what's best, but that they didn't understand what happened either. Then a few stories trickled in. Not abuse stories or anything horrible, but a few things that might be considered unprofessional, shall we say. And as I read those stories, I remembered a story I'd heard a few years back. The other mom hadn't named the teacher, but I'd always assumed that it was a teacher who'd already left the school. What if the story had been about the amazing teacher?

I don't know anything for certain, of course. But what I suspect is that there were several instances of this borderline behavior, which the amazing teacher didn't see as a big deal and the school director did. And so when the director fired her, the amazing teacher didn't feel it was justified. And the director felt like she had no choice. Then they didn't tell the parents right away and all the drama started.

And it sucks.

But does it suck enough for me to remove Hugmonkey from the school? The one he knows and loves? The one we can afford? Especially since I can't observe other schools right now, it being summer and all. I can't believe I'm saying this, but. . .I don't think so. I'm not going to discuss specifics here, but once when I was teaching I did something that was similar to the stories I head about the amazing teacher. But after my principal talked to me about it, and after I reflected on it, I never did it again. If my theories are true, it did happen again for the amazing teacher. Possible several times. So I get the director's reasoning. It absolutely could have been handled better from the get-go, but I think it would hurt Hugmonkey more in the long run to be dragged somewhere else than to stay at the school.

Even if I did trash the paper work in an initial fit of frustration over this whole episode.

Not the Good Kind of Pick Up Line

Let me just say that my town's day camp is awesome. It goes until 2pm. The counselors are sweet. It's based at the primary school. The talent show is the cutest thing ever. And it's pretty affordable, as far as camps go. They even take the kids from you at drop off and bring them to you at pick up, so you never have to get out of your car with a screaming toddler/show the other parents your pajamas/make small talk.

But.

The brilliant system, so clearly outlined in our information sheets and weekly newsletters, was apparently too much for some parents to grasp. Although how can you misunderstand, "remain in your car if you are in the pick up line, park your car if you'd like to get out and walk to your child(ren)", I'm not quite sure.*

Yet every day, as I remained in the pick-up line, I would see parked cars at the front of the line. At first I thought, well, surely they'll return to their cars once dismissal starts. Surely they get that this is not the same as the school year, where arriving early and snagging a "good"/driveway blocking parking spot is a competitive sport (and where no one brings your children to you).

I am so naive sometimes.

These people did not care about the massive line of cars behind them. They also did not care to park in an appropriate spot, although their were plenty available. I'm pretty sure they got there super early just to be at the front of the pick up line and PARK. They didn't hurry back to their cars once dismissal started. They didn't even hurry back once they'd grabbed their offspring. They were having conversations with each other, you see. **

I watched the camp director wander around the parking lot, ostensibly directing traffic and supervising the counselors, but never going near the offenders. Though there was a reminder in bold in the next newsletter. I suppose he was afraid to offend them, lest he lose his summer job. Or possibly his winter one as well, I could see these types complaining loudly at the high school where he teaches.

How can they possibly be that self-absorbed/arrogant/entitled/shitty? Or am I getting worked up over nothing?

What are your pick up pet peeves?





*Even the parents who weren't born here are so completely bilingual that their emails are more grammatically correct than half of what Sarah Palin says.
**Probably betting on how long they could stall before someone started honking.

Hey Neighbors, Are You the Jackholes, the Idiots or the Grossly Overprotective?*

Today's missive from the new Superintendent of Schools made me realize that it may be time for me to move the kids to a yurt in Mongolia.

We had a half day today because of the heat. It's 100 degrees, and most schools around here only air condition their offices (and doesn't that just say a lot about educational priorities?). So, you know, it's damned hot with 25 bodies per unair-conditioned room. The superintendent had to reassure the parents that they did not make this decision lightly. I suppose that was to appease all the jackholes bitching about how they went to school all day when it was a billion degrees, yadda, yadda. We also thought seat belts were  for flinging our action figures and that only Evel Knievel needed a helmet.

Then the superintendent had to promise us that our children would be allowed plenty of water breaks and would not do any strenuous physical activities. I guess that was to reassure the parents who believe that all teachers are dumbasses who would stage a dodgeball tournament on the hottest day of the year or something. Or maybe it was for the parents who never allow their children to experience any kind of discomfort or unhappiness.

Whichever the case, I really don't want my kids to mix with kids whose parents are jackholes, idiots or grossly overprotective. Those overprotective parents produce some mean-ass kids, let me tell you.

The superintendent didn't touch on the other issues I have with parenting in suburbia, but I'm sure he would have, if not for all the parents listed above. For example, he might have mentioned that even if you spent your last pay check buying your daughter 10 pairs of Ugg boots, you still shouldn't let her wear them to middle school on the hottest day of the year. Or he could have let them know that it's not cute when your 5 year old shakes his glass at the restaurant server instead of asking for a refill. Possibly he could just say, "Not all of your children are gifted. Or future professional athletes. Deal with it."

As much fun as it will be trying to figure out which parents the superintendent is trying to placate with each new letter, I'm thinking the yurt might be better for my children's future mental health. Herding the sheep (or is it goats? I confess my knowledge of Mongolia comes from a few reads through a children's atlas and one episode of House Hunters International) will teach them the value of hard work, being constantly at a linguistic disadvantage will make sure that they never become arrogant and if Ironflower wants to wear Ugg boots all the time, it will actually make sense.

*Do you think people would be offended if I asked them this at the next PTA meeting?

Oy

I am not sure what to blame; the fact that I stayed up too late watching "Real Housewives of Atlanta" and "Real Housewives of Beverly Hills" or the fact that one of those Beverly Hills bitches has 4 nannies for 2 kids. She says it doesn't preclude her from being a good mother (I'd be the most amazing mom on the planet if I didn't have to do the drudge work of childrearing like millions of school drop offs and making endless rounds of snacks. Some might argue that those things are the point of motherhood, but I digress.) All that I know is that I am about to lose my mind.

I am not digging this afternoon kindergarten/preschool thing at all. And the 2 different schools? Big pain in the ass. Instead of of enjoying the peace and quiet each afternoon as the big kids are at school and the toddler naps, I am always trying to catch up with stuff. And I'm always waking the toddler up to go get the big kids, which does not put either of us in a good mood.

In addition to our new school schedule from hell, Hot Guy has started working an extra job. On the weekends. Plus he's usually home less during the week. Because of this, now I have to take all 3 kids with me when I want to run errands during daylight hours. I swear the deli put the "back in 5 minutes" sign up when they saw us approaching the other day.

And ChunkyMonkey has entered the "terrible twos" precociously early. ChunkyMonkey is either filled with joy or filled with rage. Mostly, when I am dragging him off playground equipment that is too big for him or dragging him out of toy stores or not letting him stay in Lovebug's preschool classroom, he is filled with rage. A mom moved away from me today at a birthday party because ChunkyMonkey had a fit that included hitting me with a car and she was afraid he'd get her too. (Unsurprisingly, I have not really made friends with any of Ironflower's classmates' moms. Or even had a conversation with them.) I remember Lovebug wearing me out like this, but when he was having a bad day we just stayed home. That's no longer an option with the pre-K and Kindergarten and dance and swimming and sports and gymnastics classes and birthday parties and trips to the park to burn off energy.

Today included entertaining the boys while Ironflower had dance and again when she had a birthday party. And seven  eight screaming, kicking, throwing tantrums.

I am tired. When my parents take the kids for the night every month or so, I feel guilty if I don't work or do housework. I have never been away from all the kids for more than 24 hours except when I've been in the hospital. Hot Guy took the big kids to Kansas City in August, and that was my vacation - a week alone with a toddler. And it did feel like a vacation.

But kinda not.

I am blessed to have such great kids and to be able to be home with them full time. But my house is a mess, I have piles of laundry around me and I have not really worked on this blog or my other writing in weeks. Every time I reread what I've written I delete it because it's crap.  I haven't been able to get to the gym very much because ChunkyMonkey (and prior to that, Lovebug) has been sick so the tot drop has not been an option. Things that should be simple turn into complicated long errands or huge pains in the ass and there's always the tightness of our budget to complicate things further.

I can't remember the last time I was able to go out to dinner with my husband, alone. Even planning for my monthly book club night out is a challenge these days. I feel like crying because everyone around me seems to manage their kids and their homes and their workouts while wearing cute shoes and smiling.

I think I might be a little depressed.

Parking Lot Asshole

Obviously I need to start avoiding parking lots.

I'm not plagued by high expectations for myself. I don't feel like I should be curing cancer or bringing about world peace or even writing a super-popular blog. My house, as we know, is messy. I am chubby and I do things like run errands (including school drop-offs) dressed in the clothes I wore at the gym. With no make-up on. I don't make my kids' Halloween costumes and my husband is the one who does crafts and cooks with them. And there's the screaming. Although I did review a bunch of stuff last night and read a good article in this month's Parenting and I will say that I have not even yelled today. So there's that.

But while I don't have high expectations for myself, I do try not to be an asshole.

I'm finding this more and more difficult as I have to deal with elementary school pick up. Everyone parks, but there are only about a tenth of the spots needed for parents to pick up their kids. So people put their cars wherever they feel they can squeeze them in, even if it makes it supremely difficult for other parents trying to pick up their kids.

Until today, I parked way down the lane and as out of the way as possible. Until today, I dragged my boys a city block each way to pick up their sister. Until today, I did not feel like an asshole at pick up.

But then Lovebug asked me if we could park closer. And I had an image of the impending downpour getting us as we walked the long distance back to the car. And there was a spot in front of me - well, not a spot, but a space behind 2 other cars that were parked near the school in what's supposed to be a drive only lane. There was a cone in the way, though.

So I got out and moved the cone. And parked.

Thanks to not having to walk forever, we were gone before the older kids' bell had even rung. While I made it more difficult for the other people driving down the lane, it's not like I blocked anyone completely. It's not like I was that woman yesterday at drop off who parked in the drop off/no stopping lane and had a 20 minute conversation with a friend. It's not like I ran over the cone.

Of course, the fact that I've even begun in asshole territory already kinda worries me. I mean, school's only been going on for a month. I wonder how corrupted I'll be by January?

So Now I'm Going To Pick on Parent Volunteers

So yesterday I went to my first "parent coffee" at the elementary school. It was so we could sign up to volunteer.

Now, I realize that my main experience with elementary school has been as a teacher in an urban district where kids sometimes confused thunder with gunfire, but OH MY GODDESS. I mean, I knew that in the suburbs parents actually sent in all the treats for the parties and did the setting up and stuff. I was prepared for that. And hell, even I had parents volunteer on field trips. So that's what I was expecting to do. Help with parties and field trips.

I am so freaking naive.

I also had the chance to sign up to stock the teacher's prize box, come and do crafts (where I bought the supplies) with the kids for each holiday, take photos of class events (where I would make enough copies of each photo for each kid in the photo), put together class memory books from the aforementioned photos, organize the teacher's take home story bags and several other things I can't remember.

This sign-up was separate from the PTO sign-up, where I could sign up to present art to the kids (my mom used to do that), read to the kids, organize the indoor recess games for the teachers, help with various school events, provide meals or rides for families going through illness and I can't remember what else.

I'm pretty sure that this is what happens when CEOs quit their jobs to stay at home with children.

What kills me is that there's a district not too far from here where kids rarely even get class parties. Where a lot of them don't even have photos of their families, let alone a precise record of kindergarten. Where the teachers have to organize everything themselves. Where there aren't even any field trips.

And I wonder why - with all this prodigious energy and skill - not one thing is being done for kids outside of our privileged zip code.

This is the real problem with public education in this country - shitty pay, bad preparation, immovable teachers' unions and ineffective administrators aside. No one cares about any kids but their own. And I'm not saying we all need to put in the hours at some less privileged school instead of getting to see our own kids enjoy their own Halloween party. But surely the fact that the class moms pull our names out of a hat for field trip chaperoning because so many of us want to go says that maybe some of us have some free time to spare?

Back when I was teaching, one of my colleague's classes was adopted by a high school class from the suburbs (the two teachers were friends). The high school kids basically stepped into the parent volunteer roles that aren't very easily filled by people who are single, working 2 jobs or otherwise hindered. And yeah, I was kinda jealous.

There's no reason that this couldn't be done a grander scale. If people actually cared. A friend of mine recently asked a question on Facebook;

How do you get people to care about the education of other people's children as much as they care about their own children's education???

I'd settle for half as much as their own children's education, at least for the people around here. But I sure as hell don't know.

Tinkerbell, Registration, and Danielle

I feel like I've been busy, even though I don't seem to have accomplished anything lately. Well, the kids are alive - I suppose that's something, right? Anyway, here are the thoughts I've been too busy (or lazy) to turn into posts lately. . .

1. Even though I hate the character Tinkerbell in Peter Pan, I'm so glad Ironflower is now into the whole Disney Fairies thing, instead of the whole Disney Princess thing. The fairies actually do things and have talents, whereas those princesses just wait around to be rescued. I would totally rather have magic powers than beauty.

2. Yesterday's soft, misty rain made me miss the Pacific Northwest. Today's steady downpour makes me want to kick things. Also, what the hell, weather? Why am I wearing long pants in August?

3. Shrek the Musical really is awesome. We listened to the soundtrack yesterday - I forgot how truly good a lot of the songs are. The whole thing is so, so much better than the movie. I wish we could take the kids again.

4. Whoever put up the Twitter link that led me to Ebay deserves to be slapped. I am not to be trusted on Ebay. I'm not buying things, I just keeping looking at stuff I could be buying. I won't bid more than $2, except for the Tinkerbell costume that got me there in the first place. Because otherwise outfitting Ironflower in her desired Halloween costume will cost like $60. Still, it's hard not bidding $60 for 4 Yankees tickets.

5. Signed Ironflower and Lovebug up for classes at the Y. Instead of doing it online or whenever, there is a huge gathering where people get numbers and then you wait anxiously for your turn, hoping classes are still available. I was warned that I should go early. I got there an hour early and ran into our former neighbor. She had gotten there 3 hours early and had gotten number 3. I was 87. The whole process took 2 hours. Reminded me of my first college registration back in the dark ages. And by the time I'd graduated in 1993 we were registering by phone, at least.

6. My kids seem really hyper and crazy unless I've forced them to go outside (in which case they are mellow and quiet) or let them watch TV. Thinking of putting a tent over the patio and putting a TV out there until school starts. Seriously. If my boys don't stop shrieking and yelling about every little thing I'm going to start wearing ear plugs.

7. I feel kinda sorry for Danielle Staub, even though she is a loony bitch who would never talk to me. (If you don't know who I'm talking about, uh, don't worry about it. Your TV viewing tastes are more highbrow than mine). I feel more sorry for her daughters, of course. But she's just so obviously crazy and you can just see how badly she wanted to be accepted by the "popular girls". And if she thinks the Manzos are bad, she should totally go hang out with Jill Zarin and Kelly Bensimon. Or that British chick on D.C.

Swimming and Other Natural Disasters

On Saturday, I tried to take my kids swimming. It sounds so simple. But, much like keeping a clean house or resisting bagels, things that are simple for other people are kind of challenging for me.

My first challenge was getting Hot Guy up and going. Unless Hot Guy has a pressing reason to be up early, he is a night owl. But we had to go early, because Hot Guy had a pressing reason to be somewhere in the afternoon (this should have been my first clue to delay the whole enterprise, but it was such a perfect pool day). So there might have been some snapping and grumbling.

Then I had to assemble the troops and get bathing suits, sunblock and water shoes on them. Then I had to pack the car with noodles, snacks, towels, sand toys, beach chairs and the new kick board. There might have been some reminders that whiny children don't get to go swimming.

Then we had to drive to our local pool. Now, we are not members of our local pool, which is really a very large pond. It's not cheap and I don't know anyone who goes there, making it unappealing for times when I might consider taking all 3 kids myself (which - spoiler alert! - is never going to happen now.) But as residents, we have been able to buy day passes in the past.

Not, apparently, anymore.

We could not swim in our town's pond without paying a full family membership. So I called my parents, who are members of their town's pool, by virtue of being senior citizens (but for us to join that pool would be even more expensive, FYI). My Dad agreed to meet us at his town pool so that we could be his guests, because after all that build up and preparation we couldn't possible tell the kids that we would be skipping the pool altogether.

By the time we got settled at my parents' town pool, the whole thing had taken almost 2 hours.

We could have driven to the shore and gone to a real beach (that doesn't demand several hundred dollar membership) for that amount of time.

I am reasonably sure that Lovebug and Ironflower had fun once we got there, but I can't be positive because sandbox loving/ wading pool adoring ChunkyMonkey hated the whole experience.

And as soon as Hot Guy went to get himself some food, ChunkyMonkey decided to let me know how much he hated the experience. He was mad that I didn't have snack packs. He was mad that he couldn't eat the crackers he'd thrown in the sand. He was mad that I wouldn't let him head butt me. He was mad that I wouldn't let him hold the open bottle of apple juice. It was like all the tension of the morning exploded out of him in the world's longest, loudest tantrum. Eventually Hot Guy took him to the car while I watched the older kids from the beach chair where I'd collapsed.

Not exactly the fun family day I'd had in mind.

Sometimes I Hate The Park

Dear Lady-at-the-park-this-morning,

First, congratulations on your new daughter. I'm sure she's adorable, not that you ever uncovered her long enough for me to see her face. Also, may I commend you on your well-behaved boys. They played well with my Lovebug and seemed very polite - they actually got your permission before going on the jungle gym and waited for you to join them.

I'm sure you noticed that my children did not ask me permission for anything. Not even the toddler. They roamed freely within the confines of the playground. I followed the toddler, who seems to have a strong urge to return to the emergency room. My kids were all over the place, but I always knew where they were. Okay, I knew where they were for the vast majority of the experience.

I'm sure you also noticed that I was the only adult with my children, while your husband sat patiently with your sleeping baby. I wonder how you'll handle things when he's not there. I wonder if you'll still give me dirty looks after you've taken 3 mobile children to a park by yourself. I wonder if you'll still sniff at me when your boys become more independent and don't want to do the same things all the time.

I sure hope we run into each other again. Preferably when my youngest is a reasonable 3 year old and yours is a toddler.  And you don't have any back-up.

Sincerely,

Jerseygirl

Gobsmacked By The Boobs

I'm pretty sure a woman caught me staring at her boobs today.

This would not be a big deal under normal circumstances. I stare at people all the time. Either because I'm thinking about something else or because I'm a nosy bitch. Or because I think I remember the person, but can't remember how. (I also eavesdrop compulsively. It's the writer in me. Or the nosy bitch part. Whatever.) Anyway, normally I smile when caught. Or escape behind a pile of produce.

But boob staring, that's a little different. I suppose if I were a guy or a lesbian, I'd have learned how to do this more subtly, but being a straight chick hasn't prepared me for such things.

I was. . . .gobsmacked by the boobs. (I have been reading too many books set in England. But it totally works here, doesn't it?)

My own have become rather disappointing lately. After nursing 3 kids and celebrating their 22nd year (approximately), their formerly perky fullness has deflated and now seems to be oozing toward my armpits.

So I may have been slightly jealous when I saw boobs that looked exactly like mine used to look. On a woman my age, no less.

On a woman, I'm pretty sure, who did not have them a few weeks ago.

Maybe she found the bra Holy Grail. Maybe that's what happens to her boobs when she gains a few pounds or gets preggo. Maybe she had implants. I don't know.

And while I do know who she is and she knows who I am (unfortunately), we're not on the kind of terms where I can say, "Oh my God, you stole the awesome boobs I had at 20! How?"

So I just stared like a 13 year old boy. Well, not really. There was no lust involved. It was envy. But I had all the finesse and class of a 13 year old. So it kinda works.

I know she saw me staring. I hope she thinks I'm just jealous and not that I'm having sexual fantasies about her. Not that there's anything wrong with having sexual fantasies about acquaintances, if that's your thing. But if I was having sexual fantasies about my acquaintances, I would never choose her.

(And why would I fantasize about acquaintances when Friday Night Lights will be back on in 2 days? And I can watch Curtis Stone on Celebrity Apprentice? And. . . uh, I think I'm getting off topic. )

I am sure I am blowing this out of proportion. Right?

Sex Toys, TV and Preschool

So today another preschool mom mentioned that I should blog about the red character on Yo Gabba Gabba because, (whispered) "He looks like a giant dildo."

He totally does, doesn't he?

I really love that when people think of children's TV characters looking like sex toys, they think of me. It shows that they get the real me, because I've hardly ever seen a children's show without having dirty thoughts.

Hell, I had questions about Bert and Ernie when I was a child myself. *

Anyway, I hadn't really made the Yo Gabba Gabba/dildo connection because I hate Yo Gabba Gabba and hardly ever let my kids watch it. But it reminded that I'm pretty sure everyone who creates children's television is drunk, high, hates their parents and/or has weird sexual fetishes. **

There's a dildo shaped character on Oswald too. And there are background dildo shapes all over Wow Wow Wubbzy. I wonder if Nick Jr. has an interest in a sex toy company?

I also have questions about Mr. Noodle from Sesame Street. I'm not sure what they are, but I know I have them. I would also like to talk to whoever  created Oobi, which is the one with the creepy talking hands (Hands. Not puppets, but decorated hands.) Then there's LazyTown. I think the relationship between Stephanie and Sportacus is weird. Plus, you know, almost all the other characters are puppets with plastic-faced masks that make me think of bank robbers and that creepy movie V is for Vendetta.

And what about all the shows that have virtually no parents? They don't even talk about Max and Ruby's parents. . .maybe "Grandma" is really their foster mom and Ruby mothers Max so much because she is actually his mom and that's why they're in foster care? And how many episodes of Dora and Diego show their parents? And what about Blue's Clues? If Steve and Joe are brothers, where are their parents?

I'd like to rest my case with this: listen to a kid's show when the characters are excited about something. Don't look, just listen and let your mind wander. If hearing those, "Oh oh ohs" without kid context doesn't make you think about sex, you need to get laid.

I totally should have gone into children's television programming, don't you think?

*Like that never occurred to you.
**Except for whoever made Olivia. I love that show. And I've never had a perverse thought while watching it.

The Scanner Fairy

So this morning I had to go to the grocery store. With all 3 kids. I know there are some moms who bring their 6 well-behaved kids to the grocery each week, along with their lists and their coupons.

I am not one of those moms.

I try to do my grocery shopping when the older two are in preschool and Hot Guy is able to watch the toddler. I am lucky if I remember to bring my list or my coupons, because I have yet to manage to bring both.

It is not that my kids are bad at the grocery store. Generally, they are pretty good - so good, in fact, that I often bring home more junk food than I'd intended. Because they ask so politely. And they've walked in the aisles without hitting each other. It's just that I have a hard time having 3 simultaneous conversations, remembering what I want to buy and using the scanner correctly.

In retrospect, I probably should have skipped the scanner. But I like scanning as I go, because that means I can bag as I go and then I don't get stressed out at the checkout. Besides, I thought Ironflower and Lovebug would like using the scanner. As usual, I was wrong about what they'd like. ChunkyMonkey was the only one who liked the scanner. As in, he liked eating the scanner.

Despite the wrestling matches that ensued every time I had to take the scanner away from ChunkyMonkey to actually use it, I made it through most of the store in a fairly good state. In the juice aisle, however, all 3 kids needed me at the exact same second, which also happened to be the second that I was trying to scan juice boxes. So I put the scanner down.

Somewhere.

After dealing with each kid's issue, I reached for the scanner so that we could resume shopping and get the hell out of there. But the scanner was not in the cart. Or under the cart. Or next to the juice boxes. Or in my bags. Or in ChunkyMonkey's hands.

I had a sudden vision of having to go up to the customer service counter and tell them that I lost a scanner. I realized that I would have to start shopping all over again. I ordered Lovebug and Ironflower to look. I muttered exasperatedly. Finally, I said loudly, "How could a scanner just disappear?"

The elderly man behind us averted his eyes. He'd witnessed the whole thing and didn't even give me a smile of sympathy. Fortunately, another mom came by. She discovered the scanner on the shelf under the juice. Where I hadn't looked, because why would I put it under the juice? That would just be dumb. I thanked her profusely. I was reminded that there are still good people in the world. I will be forever grateful to the scanner fairy. My heart soared until I noticed the sour old man.

He pushed his cart by us, shaking his head. I think he saw me put the scanner under the juice and was too afraid to interrupt my rant. Or he's the scanner troll.

The Bitch Is Back

So yesterday I had an epiphany. Not the kind that will solve the healthcare crisis or even make the Jersey shore cast return to their natural selves (no steroids! no tanners! no saline!), but hey, it made me feel better.

For the longest time, I've been really slacking in the blog arena. Not keeping up with my favorite bloggers, not posting as much, not posting as well. I blamed it on writing for Demand Media and on not having as much time in general.

And that, dear readers, is bullshit.

I have been depressed and I haven't wanted to post about it. I've had a lot of excellent reasons to be depressed, but I haven't wanted to post about them either. In fact, I've been afraid to post about a lot of things, for fear of insulting or over-sharing with the people I know in real life who read this blog.

And it occurred to me yesterday that the more I worry about not living up to other people's expectations of me, the less I feel like myself. You're probably thinking, "Duh, it's so sad that you didn't figure that out when you were 20."

I did. But motherhood - and all the inherent expectations of "good" motherhood - made me forget. Then we moved back here to Stuck-Up (where not everyone is Stuck-Up, but you all know what I'm talking about) and I completely lost it.

I started imagining other people's expectations of me. It was like in my head I went back to the last time I lived here. In high school.  Do you have any idea what it's like to have a high school mentality and adult problems?

My head has been like a really bizarre episode of 16 and Pregnant.

And I am SO over it. If one of my posts offends you, I'm sorry. Feel free to write a nasty comment or ignore me at the grocery store. If you don't like me and you take it out on my kids (my greatest fear), I will kick your ass.

And if I've been ignoring your blog, I'm sorry. I'm back now.

And I Thought I Was A Control Freak

I have just received Ironflower's 8 PAGE packet for her dance recital. Now, I might welcome the packet if it told me exactly what make-up to put on her or what to do with her beautifully unruly hair. I might welcome the packet if it laid out her 2 routines so that we could practice at home. I might welcome her packet if she wasn't in preschool. But instead I look at the packet and think, are you FREAKING SERIOUS?

I still don't know how to do her hair or her make-up. . .or even what her costume looks like (which doesn't really bother me because the recital is not until late May, but why not just include this info in the packet?). But I do know that we can't make our own DVD of the recital AND that it will cost us $40 to buy one. I also now know that I can purchase extremely over-priced bouquets and photos. Oh, and there's a complicated lottery system for ticket purchases. I have also read about the procedures for picking up my child after the performance and extensive details about the dress rehearsal.

I am also to provide non-staining snacks and toys for her use backstage.

Snacks????? Toys??????

You know what I did backstage during the myriad recitals and performances I was in?

I talked to my friends and I watched the other dancers. When I got older, I put on more make-up. And I didn't get to eat anything. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I also walked 2 miles up hill to school (actually, I would have done that, if my mom hadn't driven me to school most of the time) and survived just fine.

I am usually the person who stands up for the booster seats until they can drive (or whatever the rule is now),  helmets and bouncy playground surfaces. I'm reluctant to leave my children with a baby-sitter or for them to have playdates without me. I overanalyze everything (which you have probably noticed if you've ever read this blog before). In short, I am a modern parent.

But I think we've gone off the deep end where dance recitals are concerned. First come, first served seating is no longer good enough for today's families.  DVDs have to be professionally produced. Bouquets have be  big and expensive. Photos must be taken by an overcharging professional. Children must be entertained backstage. Packets must be sent home 3 months beforehand. All the spontaneity of live performance must be crushed.

I am so NOT cut out for helicopter parenting.