Thursday, February 25, 2010

The Big Brother Effect

One of the bittersweet aspects of parenting is: the darn kids just keep changing on you.  You might barely have time to figure out babies, and suddenly they're toddlers. You master toddlerhood, and they spring into preschool. You get a grip on preschool, and they charge off into the elementary school years. And here we are: ever since one of Derek's classmates turned 10, back in October, he's been referring to himself as "almost-ten".  "Fine", I thought, "that gives me six months to adjust to the fact that my BABY is going to be double-digits". But it seems to me that lately my Tweenie (I can just see his jaw drop open in horror at that) has been hitting the accelerator on "growing up", and dragging his 6-1/2 year old brother along for the joyride.  

My first jolt came around Thanksgiving, when Derek suddenly decided--without consulting me or seeking my approval, I might add--to start calling me "Mom" rather than "Mommy". For a while, I winced every time he said it; it just sounded wrong after 9-1/2 years. (also, somehow, "Mom" made me feel older than "Mommy", which did not sit well--he can age if he must, but I'll take a pass, thanks!) Of course, Riley immediately latched onto the habit as well, making me a permanent "Mom" overnight.

Then Derek told a story around Christmastime about one of his best friends, whose mother had brought birthday treats into their classroom. Juice and cookies instead of Social Studies, sounds awesome, right? But she ruined it by--are you ready for the heinous Parental Crime--HUGGING her son in front of his teacher and classmates! Derek made me solemnly vow right then and there, never to do such a thing to him. Not even if cupcakes were at stake. (In "Derek Speak", that's really, really serious.)  So yesterday I had gone to the school early for a meeting, and happened to pass Riley on my way out.  He was waiting in line with other 1st and 2nd graders to go inside, and when I tried to give him a Goodbye/Have a Nice Day Hug, he slithered away from me with a stern, "Not in Public, Mom!"  (Sigh. Would a firm handshake be acceptable? A pleasant wave from across the parking lot?)

Finally, this morning Derek came down to breakfast and announced, "I want to get rid of my stuffed animals." Riley looked scandalized and gasped, "Why would you do that?" Derek breezily answered, "Well, you know I'm too old for them, now." Mind you, just last week, he and Riley were inventing elaborate stories and acting them out with their Stuffed Animal Brigade, including having names, ages, and special voices for each and every character.  (He'd also be mortified for the world to know that.  Oh well.)  Naturally, Riley instantly decided that he, too, would thin out his herd (although he did hold onto some--pshew!)

I'm almost afraid of what they'll decide to adopt, or do away with, or change tomorrow. So far the Growing Pains have been pretty tame and manageable...and hopefully we have a few more years before one of them mentions girls, or tattoos, or piercing and brings on the Mom Hysteria that will ensue...

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

I'm never eating THAT again!

Yesterday I had quite a shock to my system.  It started out as a normal day, getting the kids off to school and myself off to work.  Then sometime after lunch it all started to go downhill.  First came the headache, then the stomachache.  I was stunned and outraged, I tell you!  I have always labored under the assumption that I, like all Mothers, have been granted Special Germ Immunity. Otherwise, we would not be able to care for our small, snotty, microbe-infested offspring without catching absolutely everything they're exposed to as well. (And let's face it: family life would grind to a halt if Mom got sick every time one of the kids brought home the Illness-of-the-Week from school.)  Furthermore, I've been blessed with a more-or-less "cast-iron stomach", and tummy-ailments usually pass me right on by (whereas Husband turns green if you so much as mention Stomach Flu). So being betrayed by my normally failsafe gut felt like adding insult to injury.

While I was still able to be upright, I threw together my standard Lazy/Busy Night Dinner (grilled cheese, and soup from a can--you'd think it was filet mignon the way my kids scarf it down, thank goodness) and as soon as Husband walked in the door I shuffled off to bed. There I remained, huddled in a miserable ball, getting up only to--well, nevermind (you don't want to know, and I don't want to relive it). However, I was pleased and gratified that even without me marching around barking instructions like a Drill Sargeant, the homework got done, the kids got to bed, the laundry got folded (oh, wait, that was me, staggering downstairs to "just do a few little things" before I collapsed again.  Call me compulsive...)  And in a perverse way, I was even happy that once my body--how to put this delicately--"rejected my lunch", I felt much better. Blame it on food poisoning, but at least my Special Germ Immunity is intact!

Friday, February 19, 2010

I thought February was supposed to be a SHORT month!?

So, it's still winter (sigh). I fervently hoped I would just wake up and Spring would have magically arrived overnight. But I must not have slept long enough, because the calendar still says "February" (which really should be a 4-letter word, am I right?), and the thermometer still says "Too Flippin' Cold, go back inside and put your heavy coat on whether you want to or not" (I have a very bossy thermometer).  But I am preparing to exercise my imagination tonight (you know, so it doesn't gain that sitting-on-the-couch-watching-bad-TV-eating-junk-food Winter Weight), and come up with some examples of Late Winter Joys.


--Even though our frozen landscape appears unchanged at first glance, the ginormous snow-mountains MUST have melted some, since I can now see over them into my neighbor's yard without jumping up and down like a hypothermia-crazed Snow Bunny.  That's progress.
--The kids actually attended a full day of school on Wednesday (and Thursday, and Friday, thank goodness) for the first time in 11 days. Afterwards, they reported being exhausted by the experience, but I was too busy doing a Happy-the-Kids-Went-to-School-Dance to be sympathetic.
--Pitchers and Catchers reported to Spring Training in Florida and Arizona. I feel a warm glow knowing that at least someone is enjoying sunshine and short sleeves. (Or maybe that's just my old rotator cuff injury flaring up. Is there a trainer around?)  If Baseball is coming, Spring can't be far behind...
--Since it's obviously the perfect time to buy a swimsuit (when you're feeling pasty from being hidden from the weak sun for 4 months, and goose-pimply without several insulating layers of fabric protecting you from the cold dressing-room air, and lumpy from the Winter Couch Potato Syndrome), stores are trying to clear out coats.  Excellent opportunity to pick up a cute new ski jacket without suffering Sticker Shock. (I can wear it over my swimsuit for a few more months...)

As we slowly get more daylight back each day, let's also keep our fingers crossed for more "f-temps"--as in "forty" or even "fifty", rather than "F-F-F-FREEZING!" And I'll be watching Spring Training games on TV...in my new coat.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Living it up on Fat Tuesday!

Happy Mardi Gras, everyone!  I must say, what with being buried under snow, and sequestered with out-of-school kids for ten days, good old Fat Tuesday really snuck up on me this year.  I didn't even have a chance to stockpile ingredients for Hurricanes, or practice my one-handed-bead-catching-technique, or train to stay up all night dancing in the streets with thousands of my newest, closest friends...oh wait, I must have forgotten there for a moment that those days are WAAAY over for me. I did wear tacky, plastic, multicolored beads to work today, though. Whew, it was pretty wild, I'm telling you. Other than that, I promised the kids we'd mark the occasion by having breakfast for dinner, which they love, no matter what the excuse (Lent is starting, Mom feels lazy, we're out of food--it's all the same to them.)

This year, with them being almost-10 and 6-1/2, we also discussed for the first time the concept of "giving something up" for the Lenten season.  They're old enough, and have absorbed enough church by this point, to have a basic grasp of the ideas of sacrifice, and atonement, and self-improvement.  We bandied about some ideas (Husband: "Let's give up tofu!"), before I came up with the Proposal: No Dessert After Dinner. There was a collective gasp, followed by shocked silence, as they struggled to comprehend this monstrous thought.  While they gathered their wits to launch what was sure to be a vigorous protest, I hastened to interject, "Remember, you can still have dessert in your lunches!" They took a breath and calmed down a bit.

However, I then reminded them of the other vital piece of information, namely that Lent lasts until Easter...40 days away...Their little faces fell (it was actually quite sad to see their miserable expressions, as they contemplated the meaning of 40 cookie-free evenings.) So together we will try to honor the meaning of the season, but when Easter rolls around and we joyously celebrate the Resurrection of our Lord, the only thing left to sacrifice will be a whole basketful of Chocolate Bunnies!

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Special Weather Report: Yes, Hell HAS Frozen Over...Details at 11.

I don't think I've ever written two posts about exactly the same topic, much less twice in the same WEEK.  But someday--in the middle of summer, while fanning ourselves in the shade and licking ice-cream cones--my family and I will look back at February of 2010, and all of the memories will revolve around swirling, white, frosty flakes from the sky. We will remember with amazement how a weekend storm thundered through, leaving 2-1/2 feet of snow in its wake. Husband and I will probably still be working out the kinks from shoveling our driveway, and helping the rest of the cul-de-sac neighbors clear theirs. The boys--lucky little stinkers--were too small to help, so instead they'll reminisce about carving tunnels through the massive drifts, and Geronimo-ing down the snow mounds on their bellies like colorful, parka-wearing penguins. We will ALL recall that schools were closed for the entire week. (That includes the community college where I work, which may be even more astonishing!)

Then we'll laugh about how, just to show us who's Boss, and Don't-You-Ever-Forget-It, Mother Nature sent us a bonus present: another foot of snow, midweek.  And--deep sigh--again with the scooping and throwing...although at this point, it was becoming a challenge to pile up the snow...over my head. We got so Winterized that after the second snowfall, I looked out the window and scoffed, "Bah, that's nothing, I'll be fine driving in that!" (And I did...and it was indeed, No Big Deal.)  I'm sure the kids will not soon forget that--sometime around, oh, Wednesday--House Rules kind of went out the window. Royce let them have coffee (1/2-caf, LOTS of milk) with breakfast. I said "yes" to Nutella on toast for lunch. The normal "2-hours-on-weekend-days-only" Wii limit was just trashed (sometimes before noon). One day (I forget which one; they all sort of ran together after a while), they didn't change out of their pjs at all. It was Snowcation Anarchy, I tell you.

I hope they cherish these moments, and make lasting memories that will carry them through...when they're sitting in their classrooms on the 4th of July!

Monday, February 8, 2010

Stories from a Snowstorm

Well, I am pleased--and relieved-- to report that we made it through The Big One. My next-door neighbor, who somehow always ferrets out these crucial tidbits of information, dutifully informed us that the "official total" for our town was:  31 inches of snow. Dumped on us in just over 24 hours. Now, Saskatchawan, this is NOT, so some of us were a little bit...stunned and dismayed is a fair description, I think. (It is my humble-but-strongly-held opinion that no single-day-snowfall-amount should EVER start with a 3. It's just so very, very wrong.)

I, for one, found myself moving through the 5 stages of grieving--I mean winter. You know: Denial:  there's NO WAY it is snowing that much around here, nuh-uh, those pesky meteorologists always botch the forecast anyway!  Anger: Geez, look at the stupid snow piling up!  I just hate every white, fluffy, obnoxious little flake out there! Bargaining: If I could please please please get out of the house sometime today, even to go to the drugstore for 5 minutes, I'll promise I'll spend the rest of my life nurturing my fellow man and promoting world peace! Really! Depression: If I have to listen to my children bickering about NOTHING for one more second, I'm going to burst into tears. (I didn't do it! Yes, you did. Did not! Did too!...WAAAAHHHHH!) And finally, Acceptance: well, we're really stuck here, might as well enjoy it. Shoveling burns enough calories to justify a lot of hot chocolate, so maybe it's not so bad.

Some of my favorite moments of the Snowstorm of 2010 occurred after the last flake had fallen, as the sun came out and shone brilliantly on the surreal landscape...
When I waded through the backyard for the first time, the drifts came up to my thighs.
After we started shoveling, the mounds rose taller than my children, who could then walk on top of the "snow walls" without falling through.
The neighbors all congregated outside, chatting and heaving snow together, until we had freed all of our driveways.
The industrious munchkins tunnelled away while we worked, building their own cozy snow caves and pretending they were hibernating.
But nothing bolstered the flagging spirits of our little cul-de-sac quite like the momentous...Snow Plow Sighting!  When we heard the telltale crunch-rumble-scrape of the huge machine bearing down on us, each and every Harold and Harriet Homeowner flew to their window to watch with rapt attention. (See him pushing the gigantic mountain of snow out of the way! Ooh, he's backing up! Here he comes for another pass!  I swear it was better than cable.)  The man behind the wheel must have felt like a Rock Star today, with all the gratitude pouring toward him.

And, because of our Snowplow Hero, I was able to get the heck out of the house today...so now I must go begin creating a Plan for World Peace!

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Snow-my-goodness!

Having lived in Maryland my entire life, I can remember some pretty big snows from my childhood. I can still picture drifts piled up higher than my head.  I fondly recall missing multiple days of school in a row for particularly fierce storms.  Once, my parents' street was so deeply covered (and rural, therefore not likely to see a plow for DAYS) that when our next-door neighbor cut himself with a knife while cooking, the Fire Department had to park the rescue truck 1/4 mile away at the entrance to our neighborhood...and continue to the house on a snowmobile.  However, I have never experienced anything like what I endured tonight:  our local Giant grocery store, the night before a Major Snow Event.

These days, this area normally gets a measly 8 inches or so of snow a year. So imagine our collective shock in December, when we got a blizzardy-type of snowstorm that pummeled the area with up to 2 feet of the white fluffy stuff.  The Media Wise Guys--when they had dug themselves out sufficiently to comment--promptly dubbed it "Snowpocalypse."  I'll bet they're wishing they hadn't used that one already. The forecast for this coming weekend, once the Crystal Ball Gazers--I mean Meteorologists--finally committed to some numbers, calls for a possibility of 12-18 inches...on Friday alone.  On Saturday the description, beneath a nondescript picture of a snowflake, merely states "100% chance of snow." (Duh, you think?  I gotta get me a Weather Girl Job...)

Now, I don't know if I've never actually visited a grocery store the night before a predicted snowstorm, or if people are just majorly freaked out because of what happened last time...but you would have thought it was Armageddon (with a 24-hour advance warning), and frozen pizzas were the only thing that could save you and your family from annihilation.  There were no carts outside the store (my first clue; sadly, I did not turn and run at that point).  The checkout lines snaked down the aisles, 10-desperate-humans-deep. (second clue;  still I persisted, like a crazed woman who must have her eggs!  and pancake mix!  the world can end, but breakfast will go on!) I picked up the absolute last can of diced tomatoes on the shelf; no lie, the supplies in this particular store were so depleted, they may as well have closed down after I left, because anyone who wandered in later would have been reduced to purchasing Wheaties...and maybe some Spam.

But the true punchline is: the liquor store was even worse! (How did I know this?  I was there, of course.  Wait, that's completely beside the point!)  At least now if we can't get out of our house for days, we can have beer, and brunch!

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Keep it Simple...Sweetie!

Tonight I snuggled on the couch for a while with 6-1/2 year old Riley and Blue Bear (a stuffed animal he's slept with and toted around since he was a baby.  It's a bear.  Guess what color?) watching a kids' movie. It was a made-for-TV flick about a show choir (pre-Glee, and MUCH more "G") called Spectacular, which originally appeared on the Nickelodeon channel. While the show itself was somewhat less than "spectacular", it did have some catchy tunes, cute characters, and the inevitable moral lesson to be learned by all.

Basically, a high school rock-star-wanna-be-lead-singer (Nikko) with a crummy attitude gets himself kicked out of his band. Desperate for money to make a demo and sell himself to a record company, he joins his school's show choir group, hoping to help them win the upcoming Championship, with its cash prize. Of course, his style clashes with that of the adorable, uptight Choir Leader (Courtney), and his old bandmates mock him, and in the end, they schedule an audition for the record label execs at the exact same time as the Championship performance.

Now, Riley is squished right up next to me, clutching his Blue Bear with one hand while intently absorbing the action. At one point when the drama was building to the big "Nikko's Decision Time", I asked him what he thought Nikko should do. He considered it very solemnly for a moment, then said, "Well, the choir guys care about him, but his band doesn't...and they're mean.  So he should go sing with the choir and help them win."  Then at the very end, Nikko and Courtney share a brief little smooch (which he admirably managed to watch, without retching, covering his eyes, or making rude comments, a la his 4th grade brother) and then you see Nikko recording a song in a studio, along with his old band, the entire choir as backup singers, and Courtney as his duet partner.  Riley's final review, delivered as he ambled off to bed in his fleecy polar-bear-print pjs:  "I liked it 'cause they all got to sing, especially Courtney and Nikko together, and they love each other."

So to summarize Riley's Rules for Life: Hang out with people who are nice, and who like you.  Try to do the right thing for your friends. Listen to really happy songs, and dance as much as possible. Sing whenever you feel like it, especially if it's with someone you love.  That's it. Simple, and beautiful. (Also quite possibly the recipe for World Peace...one grooving human being at a time!)