Sunday, December 30, 2012

Out with the old...

In the waning moments of 2012 (which I am tempted to call "Overtime" after we all successfully survived the extremely exaggerated end-of-days phenomenon last week) I feel compelled to highlight some of the more noteworthy events of my family's year in a Special Wrap-up Post. I can't believe that for as long as I've now been writing this thing such a thought has never occurred to me before...nevertheless it seemed an appropriate point at which to begin the trend, as we've had a few Team WestEnders Firsts in the past 12 months.

For example, Derek was granted unconditional release from his (dental) Life Behind Bars, after orthodontic treatment that lasted almost five long years. He now boasts a mouthful of beautifully straight teeth--which he utilizes to full advantage by flashing his signature wicked grin to accompany his frequent smart-aleck comments. (On a related note, the pre-teen qualities of Withering Sarcasm and Obnoxious Sassiness have increased exponentially as well over the course of his 12th year. Yaaayyy.) Of course, somewhat ironically, Riley strolled (more like "was shoved, kicking and screaming") into Braces World himself, a few months later. To their mother, this makes both of them look sooooo much older and more grown up (sniffle)...

Which leads us to the most radical changes of 2012, taking place in the...ahem...."physical realm", if you will. Yes, this will go down in infamy as the year when my oldest son surpassed me, heightwise. And don't get me wrong, I always knew this day would come. Even when they were tiny babies, I'd already resolved myself--in the waaaayyyy back of my mind--to the fact that eventually I'd be the shortest person in the household for sure. In my head, though, I planned for that to happen when the boys were in, say, HIGH school, forcryingoutloud, not...7th grade. I still outweigh him (barely), but in the past 8 months since his annual checkup Derek has sprouted 4 inches taller and packed on 14 pounds. Considering that as recently as Thanksgiving I held a smidge of an advantage, I'd say it's a safe bet that he's not done with this spurt just yet. Scary enough to think that soon I'll have to tilt my head to look up at him...but also, as the person who is primarily responsible for purchasing, preparing, and plating the food he consumes, all I can add is: Yikessss! At least my "baby", Riley, although he's ahead of Derek's growth curve by several pounds and inches already, remains the perfect height to rest my chin on top of his head...for now...

And speaking of health-related revelations, during this span of calendar pages I learned a few things about myself. Chemically speaking: FE (iron) is GOOD...but too much C6H12O6 (glucose) is BAD. How do I know this? The evidence became quite clear--after several months of twice-daily iron supplements, I suddenly found my running routine to be suspiciously lacking the too familiar slog-through-the-quicksand feeling I'd been experiencing for, oh, a year maybe? And here I had just accepted it, resignedly accepting that I was just getting old and losing a step (or two...or twenty). However, I did lose something else instead: up to a minute off my per/mile time. Huh. Whaddya know? Around the same time I also was informed by my Primary Care Doctor that my long-term blood sugar indicator put me in the unfortunate range of "at risk to develop diabetes later in life". There immediately followed a brief, outraged burst of "what the HECK?" since the only possible factor I have against me is family history. Then the rational brain kicked back in and I took a long, hard look at just how much of the sweet stuff I was eating...in a mindless, habit-kind-of-fashion...oops. So I cut back. And about 13 pounds melted off almost instantly. Yet another "who'da thunk it" moment.

I suppose that's about it for the major news. We didn't move, or anything--although we did visit another country that was new to us all, namely our friendly neighbor to the South, Senor Mexico. (And frankly, given the cold, blustery weather we've been treated to the past several days, I suspect Derek's almost ripe to be swept right onto the old "Mom's relocating to California" bandwagon any minute now...) I'm looking forward to ringing in 2013 with friends and family, excellent party snacks for my growing boys...and maybe even a cookie or two. (Shhh! Festive Food does not count!) Happy New Year!

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

A Yule Log (ha!)

For me, what makes the Winter Holiday Season so special is sharing time, memories, and traditions with loved ones. This year my family had to regroup after several recent losses of people near and dear to us. And as Christmas crept closer, we found ourselves putting our heads together to figure out ways to keep the spirit alive. In the end, some rituals stayed completely the same, a few got tweaked to make them better fit the new scheme of things, and one or two might have been quietly scrapped, in the interest of preserving the Elves' jolly outlook...and sanity.

First, Christmas Eve at Casa WestEnders. When the boys were younger, Husband and I began permitting them to open one gift on December 24th, to help them contain their anticipation...and let's face it, to distract them with a new plaything for the day. This plan obviously needed to be maintained, since they both began counting down several days before, and reminding us (you know, as Aging Parents who might suddenly forget these important agenda items) of its impending arrival. And by that, I mean down to the exact TIME they wished to rip open a package. Afterwards, Derek requested a screening of the Muppet Christmas Special...and the Year Without a Santa Clause...and Rudolph. I think he just wanted to bundle himself in a blanket and huddle on the couch for a few hours, but I can easily see this becoming a new annual habit. Finally, just like every year, we head to church to hear the story of Jesus' birth and sing favorite carols.

Then there's Christmas Day. My precious sons again had set a strict wakeup-and-unwrap schedule (a perfectly reasonable, agreeable 8:30, allowing me ample time to sneak down to the kitchen and brew coffffeeee beforehand, so I could be merry and bright, rather than...grinchy). Next, as always we piled into the car, making the trek to my Dad's to celebrate with the extended clan. Under the heading of "Some Things Never Change", we still require all the kids (ages 12, 10, 9, 8, and 5) to sit at the top of the stairs for a photo before we turn them loose on the loot. Oh, and before they have at it, everyone must hang their "Special Ornament" (the one engraved with their name) on the tree. We take a moment to remember Mom, Tracey, Aunt Renie, and even longtime-family-dog Goofy when adding theirs as well. Then the children are free to rifle their stockings, uncovering their aunt's sweet scores from the Dollar Store...whoops, I mean Santa's Swag, of course (wink). After that...it's just cousin commotion for a while as paper flies and squeals ring out and treasures are held up and admired. 

At last, when all that hard work is finished...it's time to eat. Now, here's one spot where my sister and I conspired to trash tradition...I mean "uncomplicate our lives"...um, "create a special new custom". You see, my mom (bless her patient heart) used to stand for hours cooking breakfast for all 12 of us. She presided over the pancakes and slung the sausages, batch by batch, until everyone had their fill (and with Derek, that could take...a while...) Instead, Sis had the brilliant brainstorm to concoct an ooey-gooey-yummy French Toast Casserole. (a la Paula Deen, y'all--but with a modified, non-artery-clogging amount of butter and eggs!) And I had an epiphany of my own a few days beforehand, and was inspired to whip up a sort of Southwestern Veggie-and-Egg dish to bring along. Voila! (Which in this case can be loosely translated as: "everyone sits and eats at the same time"...or something like that...)

And for the grand finale...we joined hands around the giant Christmas tree and sang "Da hoo dorais fa hoo dores, Welcome Christmas Christmas day" just like the Whos...no, that's not it! Rather, with bellies full of brunch deliciousness, and hearts full of warm family bonding, we bid a fond farewell to Christmas 2012. To plagarize--I mean "quote"-- another beloved fictional character, "God bless us, every one!"

Sunday, December 23, 2012

Good Tidings We Bring...

After a looooong week chock-full of rushing willy-nilly like a hyperactive Santa's helper (me) and trudging off to work and school (everyone else), my family finally coasted into Winter Break with a collective sigh of mingled exhaustion and relief. Along the way, we bravely met and surmounted all sorts of challenges:

Seasonal--having once more endured the darkest week of the year to greet the Solstice, and as a reward, being able to celebrate the incremental increasing daylight...one second at a time. (Although that means now it's actually Winter, and cold weather can't be far behind....but let's not talk about that, I'm much happier here in my State of Denial...as a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure it's somewhere near Hawaii...)
Calendar...ial--watching the date of the projected Mayan Apocalypse approach...and pass with minimal hoopla and zero end-of-the-world destruction. (Whew! Somehow December 22nd never had quite this level of fame or appeal before, did it?)
Retail--in which I tackled Costco, Target, and (in a daring move never before attempted, due to it being...ill-considered...um, foolish...oh, heck, it's just stupid) a MALL, mere days before Christmas.

Then came the fun stuff. Wrapping presents. Sleeping in. (Well, for the male-type-people, anyway. Somehow I always wake up at the same time. But at least it's soooo blessedly quiet when I do...) Drinking coffee (me again, of course, and Husband as well) and savoring breakfast, rather than shoveling it in before galloping out the door to the bus stop. (Okay, that last part mostly relates to the boys, since I'm perfectly satisfied by my mondo mug of java and usually do more of a brunch-ish meal.) Basking in extra leisure time--whether that means more Angry Birds (Who, me? She protests, batting her eyes innocently...) or Driveway Basketball Tournaments or Basement Football Playoffs or reading under a fleecy blanket.

And there's even more merriness right around the corner. Tomorrow, as per our Official Holiday Agreement (which incidentally involved several meetings, offers and counters, mediation, and tons of negotiation to hammer out the details. Those kids are tough customers, I tell ya...) all Youthful Parties will be permitted to open their Stocking Gift as well as one Parcel from their South Carolina grandparents. Later we'll head to church for a nighttime Christmas Eve service. And finally we'll settle in for a Winter's nap to rest and refresh before over-the-river-and-through-the-woods...ing to my Dad's house for the Christmas morning circus (complete with cousins...and choice cuisine).

With all the festivities ahead of me, and with the monkeys in bed and the TV now mine, all mine (mwah hah hah), I believe it's time for some adult entertainment...you know, gazing at the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree, drinking a steaming cup of peppermint tea, and catching up on my DVR recordings...whatever did you think I meant, naughty elves? And to all a good night!

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Our Version of Santa's Workshop

A few weeks ago Derek casually asked me, "So, whaddya want for Christmas?" I was busy with some other chore at the time--packing lunches, wiping the counter, loading the dishwasher, you know, something inane but necessary--so he probably only had about a third of my attention. Thus I flippantly answered him with the first thing that sprang to mind: "World Peace!" Instead of the chuckle I expected, though, I heard an exasperated humph. Then he burst out with, "Dad wants a Lamborghini, you want World Peace...what am I supposed to DO?" That stopped me in my tracks. "Oh, you were being serious?" It's just that he'd never asked that question before, so I was caught off guard by this conversation. You see, we'd long ago left the preschool days of creating a craft-tastic gift ornament for Mom and Dad out of foam and glitter--most of which still hang on our tree, of course. Now, as a pre-teenager, he suddenly had the urge to spend his December allowance on presents for his family, rather than video game like the rest of the year. (Pause to gasp in sheer wonder. Continue...) How thoughtful! How touching! How the heck are we gonna make this happen?

Well, first we needed to bring Riley on board. Next, we formulated a plan for the inaugural Super Secret Shopping Spree. (Okay, technically it wasn't at all clandestine, since the whole crew knew about it...but we liked the cool code name and the aura of intrigue nonetheless...) We designated a date and a destination (Our target? Target. Ha!) And then, for the most thrilling detail of all: real money! That's right, I handed my little consumers cold, hard cash for the first instance in...well, suffice it to say a verrrrry long time. Since the boys most often locate their goodies in the Store of Awesomeness (um, I mean "Amazon") and pay virtually, using Bank of Mom Credit, it doesn't usually make sense to fork over the moolah. But in an attempt to maintain an element of mystery, they were going to experience buying the old fashioned way, by handing over the actual bills. Trust me when I tell you they were practically giddy with joy at the sight of our friend Andrew J.

With all the strategic preparations completed, it was finally time to storm the marketplace. However, without any meaningful suggestions from Husband, our little band of elves wandered around kind of at a loss for a while. (Sample conversation: "No, he doesn't want Angry Birds boxers. You can't get him a Nerf gun just because you want it. He has no use for [fill-in-the-blank novelty item]. Most of these comments were directed toward Riley, who seemed to be experiencing a painful case of Novice Shopper Syndrome...) Clearly, we lacked inspiration. There was even mounting irritation. But at long last we meandered over to the seasonal display, where we found something he would enjoy: a festive tin of Mixed Nuts. No, I'm not kidding, that's what we settled on, for the man who turns out to be the nearly impossible Giftee. Of course, when I pointed them out as an option, Derek snickered. Yes, I said "nuts", get over it! I exacerbated the problem by turning to Riley to explain, "It's perfect, Dad really likes nuts!" At which point Derek snorted and doubled over in hysteria, rendering him useless for several moments until he managed to pull himself together. Sigh.

Whew! With the most challenging person checked off our list, we headed for easy pickings, in the Toy section. We split up and I accompanied each child in turn to help guide them toward a game of some sort that their brother would find amusing. Really, that was the least complicated ten minutes of the entire excursion. Only one task remained: choose something for Mom. Earlier, I had hinted to Derek that he could select a pair of earrings for me, since I wear them every day and, like most girls, have a Love/Love relationship with all things sparkly. I thought this would entirely solve his dilemma and simplify his life...but he shot me an incredulous look and sputtered, "You trust me to pick out something you'll like? Reaaaallly?" Nonetheless--although admittedly with some trepidation--I steered them to the Accessories to peruse the offerings (and crossed my fingers). A few minutes later, Derek came to find me because they were having difficulty deciding. So I did what I should have in the first place, and showed them an example of what I might wear. "You mean, not these?" Derek joked, holding up 3-inch gold hoops. "Or this?" waving a chunky, multicolored, crystal-bedazzled necklace. He was joking, but I'm still relieved that I got to put in my vote before the final selection was made. (Five minutes later as they were tallying their total spending, they inadvertently spilled the beans about what they'd chosen, but it's all good...)

Thus successfully ended what I suspect will be known as our First Annual Team WestEnders Holiday Shopping Extravaganza. The boys were quite pleased with themselves--the budgeting of funds, the choosing of special surprises. I was proud of them for getting caught up in the spirit of giving. And let us not downplay the extraordinary fact that we survived a trip to Target, 6 days before Christmas. Now with the hard work behind us, we're free to sit back, drink hot chocolate, listen to carols, and try to keep Riley (aka "Impatient Santa") from slipping too many clues before the official Big Reveal next Tuesday...

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Happy Ho Ho Ho (and whatnot)

At this time of year our daily high temperatures around here have begun their inexorable downward slide into the "too-chilly-for-me" range, and the daylight hours are disappearing as we skate toward the Winter Solstice. These two events tend to make me somewhat grumpy (which may or may not be a massive understatement, I'll let you be the judge). So to counter that, it's a good opportunity to contemplate some seasonal happenings that lift my spirits instead. Without further ado:

--Semester Break. While I do love my job--the intellectual stimulation, the linguistic challenge, the collaboration with talented, helpful, and all-around-wonderful colleagues--I also appreciate that every 15 weeks, we get to wipe the slate clean, take a refreshing hiatus, and start over again.

--Justifiable napping. When it's cold outside, I don't harbor the slightest drop of guilt when pulling a fleecy blanket up to my chin, curling up into a ball, and snoozing for an hour. After all, I'm not wasting time, I'm...conserving body heat! That makes it healthy, rather than unproductive or (perish the thought) lazy! When Springtime rolls around again, I know I'll feel like I should be outside taking advantage of the sunshine and warm breezes; for now, I choose to practice Selective Hibernation, thank you very much.

--On a related topic: Reading Under the Covers. Particularly when all four of us congregate after dinner on the King-sized bed, each with our own book, for a cozy family Story Hour. Bonus for me: sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with my three guys is like having my own little fleet of space heaters! Aaahhhh....

--And when we're not sequestered at home: Fiestas. Extra special time spent socializing with friends and family, meeting new people, catching up on news. Of course it almost goes without saying, but you can't overlook the huge benefit of Party Food. There's something magical about all those treats--I mean besides the fact that I didn't have to prepare them myself. I believe that all of the laughing and gabbing and wandering around one does during a shindig help to negate any calories one consumes. Call it the...Social Metabolism Boost. (I may very well be delusional, but that's my rationalization, and I'm sticking to it! Heck, I might even trademark it...)

--Finally, as December hurtles on at an astonishing clip, Christmas rapidly approaches. Obviously this means boundless excitement, gleeful anticipation of surprises, and even more cherished moments spent with loved ones. But also, for me, it means the beauty of special Music we only get to hear during this month. Singing carols in church. Listening to all-holiday programming on several local radio stations. (But thank goodness I discovered a religious channel that plays all of the traditional songs. Because honestly, after the 75th Jingle Bell Rock I was D-O-N-E. And can someone please tell me who decided that Last Christmas was anything other than a breakup tune with Christmas mentioned in the title? And why on earth did 47 other people think it was a brilliant idea to re-record it? Yeah, I'll take Angels We Have Heard on High, thank you very much...)

So that's it, a partial Happy List for this season. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to turn on some music and get ready for a party!

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Bracing for braces


Well, it seems that no sooner had Older Son finally gotten all the hardware removed from his mouth, that Younger Son was judged ripe for torture—I mean “braces-ready” himself. Being a seasoned, battle-scarred veteran of the Orthodontic Experience (both my own, and Derek’s), I politely listened as the hygienist relayed crucial information (you know, good stuff like “foods you can’t enjoy for several years”, “how not to rip out a wire”…oh, and of course the more mundane “proper brushing technique so as not to walk around with bits of your last meal stuck in your brackets for all the world to admire”). I nodded at the right times to show I understood. But in my head I was thinking “this is old news, honey, we’re gonna be just fine.” Ha! Silly me, I forgot for just a brief moment how radically different my two boys are. You see, drama-free Derek sailed through the Braces Years in his typical placid fashion. He might have complained—quietly—that they felt uncomfortable after a tightening. He might have requested—calmly—a dose of pain reliever to help manage the ache. He might have mentioned—gently—that it sucked not to be able to bite into certain foods or to eat others at all. Seriously, all he needed was sympathy and a hug, and he was fine. It was about the easiest outcome a parent can ever expect when comforting their child through something potentially traumatic.

And at first it appeared that Riley would follow in his brother’s footsteps. He emerged from the Orthodontist’s office and proudly displayed his shiny new accessories. He even returned to school in a positive mood, without requesting any medicine. But…then he arrived home at the end of the day and immediately collapsed in a tearful mess. “I HATE braces!” he sobbed, curled up in a ball and hugging a pillow. Turns out the pain took a while to hit, and he was now getting the full force of a very sore mouth. He consequently hadn’t been able to eat his lunch, so I’m sure that contributed to the suffering. I went into Mom Fix-It Mode, and began offering possible feel-better options. A nice, soft banana? (“I can’t chew, he protested”.) Yogurt? (No teeth required!) Hot chocolate? (Just sip it; I swear, it’ll be easy!) Each idea was met with a dejected shake of his head, as if nothing I could possibly suggest would ever ease his misery. It was pathetic, I tell ya. At last I convinced him to try taking Ibuprofen to see if that would bring some relief. (About 30 seconds after he swallowed it, he moaned, “It’s not working!” Sigh. Patience, grasshopper, is clearly not one of your strongest traits...now lie down and give it a chance!)

I have to admit, given this unexpectedly less-than-promising beginning, I began to feel a bit of trepidation about the long Metal Months ahead of us. How could he withstand the repeated agony of every-6-week adjustments? And how could I cope with the accompanying whining? Fortunately, we had Derek’s recent experiences--and ultimately successful resolution--to reinforce the point that Riley would, in fact, survive this. And I was even able to use my own saga to lend credence to our claims. I remember getting my braces on in 7th grade…the day before I was scheduled to take the SAT with a group of my Nerd Society—I mean “scholastically gifted”--peers. (It should be noted that the timing of this was NOT one of my mother’s more brilliant ideas…) The morning of the test, my mouth was absolutely killing me. I had to bring a lunch, and as I recall the only thing I could manage was: a banana and a peanut butter sandwich. The upshot was, sharing my Tooth Trials got Riley to smile a little...and persuaded him to try the Elvis Diet until his chompers got back to normal.

Anyway, as we promised him, the initial shock and pain did diminish. Actually, after that first day, he only asked for one more Ibuprofen. He resumed meals again—well, mashed potatoes, soup, applesauce, cheese, and the like. And the attitude returned to his usual exuberant (if still dramatic) self. So, I’m happy to say I think we’re all going to make it through this process one more time. I just need to be certain to stay stocked up on peanut butter, bananas, Ibuprofen…and hugs!


Monday, December 10, 2012

Holiday cheer through the years....

Some things you can count on to happen in a comfortingly reliable fashion--the sun rising in the East...Derek consuming his weight in food each week...and our annual Holiday Open House. Having learned my lesson last year about how to streamline the preparation process, I made one big Costco run, then sat back, pretended I cooked everything myself, and humbly accepted compliments on my incredible culinary creativity and skill. No, that's not it! (My friends know me far too well to make that a viable option, anyway.) What  really happened: I stuck to my actual strengths, which means choosing tasty foods and arranging them on the table in an appealing manner. Then I was free to relax, mingle with my guests, and enjoy my own festivities.

This year as I circulated among the partygoers, I noticed one dramatic way in which our shindig has changed. It became immediately apparent, in fact, the moment people began arriving. Adults came to the door to be greeted and ushered inside...and children remained outside, welcoming each other in their own special way...such as when I glanced out the window and spied several of them scaling a nearby tree, while others pranced around the base of the trunk, egging them on. Others sprinted directly into the back yard, initiating a spirited game of football. The shenanigans continued unabated (and here's the absolutely KEY point) without any adult intervention necessary, for hours. Honestly, the only time we saw the munchkins was when they would breeze through the kitchen, swiping food on their way to the next activity. (Oh yes, and that one other occasion when an unauthorized, overly-raucous Nerf Battle Royale broke out, characterized by excessive whacking with spongy weapons, earpiercing shrieks, and several complaints of minor pain caused by application of too much...foam...force. We did have to step in and break that one up.)

I've been throwing this seasonal bash for many years now, since before Husband and I even knew each other. And let me tell you, those early fetes were verrrryyyyy different than the family-friendly fun that occurs nowadays. Given the fact that my supervisory abilities were not needed, I was actually able to regale some newer friends with a story from those wild...er times. Back when we were all young and single and childless, one of the pastimes we engaged in during my parties was cookie-making. One memorable get-together, a friend helpfully brought along some tubes of slice-and-bake dough to contribute to the cause. And wouldn't you know, it just so happened that in honor of holiday baking, they included a soft, squeezy Pillsbury Doughboy toy. Why? Beats me. But someone thought it would be hilarious to hide him in my tree. I didn't find it quite so...festive...and removed it. However, every time my back was turned, that sucker ended up right back among the branches. And for the next umpteen Christmases, that became sort of the signature party game. No matter where I hid that silly little guy in my apartment, some sneaky pal would locate it and plop him in the evergreen, like some kind of renowned...Dessert Elf, or something. Finally, one year I gave up and bought a sparkly ceramic Doughboy ornament to forever adorn our tree...in at least a slightly classier fashion.

After that rambunctious phase, many of my friends began to get married; so naturally, spouses joined in the proceedings. (The "Couples Period", if you will.) Then inevitably came the rugrats. And for a while, events tended to center in one room, around a contingent of bouncy seats and diaper bags. (The "Baby Age".) Then the kids grew, and we entered the "Chatting on the Run" portion of our entertainment. Conversations followed the toddlers as we gamely attempted to string together coherent sentences while handing out animal crackers and sippy cups. Next, blessedly, the kiddos started keeping each other amused (that, and popping The Grinch into the DVD player could calm and quiet an entire roomful of munchkins. God bless Dr. Seuss. Amen.) And finally, we seem to have reached that beautiful point where we can almost ignore our beloved offspring and make believe we're truly having a Grownup Gala. As I flitted from room to room, making sure I got to spend some quality time with each of my honored guests, I reflected on how wonderful it was to have reached this era. Who knows, maybe some day in the not-too-distant future, if we adults play our cards right, we can swing full circle and reintroduce sugar cookies...or maybe those crazy days are behind us...and we should just chill out on the couch while queueing up The Grinch! Either way, happy holidays, indeed!

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Life Lessons...with Legos!

One rewarding piece of the parenting gig involves encouraging one's children to develop their interests, and to pursue activities that they enjoy in their free time. Since my own offspring happen to be energetic boys, their preferred leisure activities often gravitate toward running circles in the backyard, chasing/throwing/catching/kicking a ball of some sort. When they're driven indoors by cold or darkness or rain, one hobby they've come to appreciate is building with Legos. Derek seems to be growing out of this a little bit, but Riley still will sit for long periods, concentrating intently on creating a structure to add to his desktop Brick City. If you happen to catch a glimpse of him working, you can almost see thought process chugging along in his head, as he first envisions and tests his idea, and then implements the final design by manipulating those colorful plastic blocks. Legos are one of those wonderful pastimes--both educational (shhh! no one needs to know they're practicing engineering skills!) AND fun. They get the unequivocal Parental Stamp of Approval.

So imagine my delight when a note came home from his elementary school informing us that there would soon be a club starting up...for Lego enthusiasts. If this isn't right up Riley's alley, I don't know what is. After I sent back the permission slip, I received an email with further details. Among the important procedural items--cost, meeting dates and times, blah blah blah--I caught one very entertaining fact: the group will be called the Junior First Lego League. How formal! How official! How....very much like a Secret Superhero Society, yes? (Okay, maybe this is attributable to my time as a child watching Justice League cartoons. You know how kids have imaginary friends? Yeah, Superman was mine. My mom stopped asking who I was talking to when she found out I was having conversations with the Man of Steel...okay, that's entirely enough embarrassing childhood confession....) But doesn't it sound like they should have, I don't know, masks and capes? Or at the very least, special...Lego...toolbelts, or something? I wonder what their missions would be like? Fighting for safe building practices? Exposing and correcting shoddy construction? Ooh, speaking of which, I hope they get to make their own Headquarters! A fancy, well-appointed hideout where they can gather to discuss...Lego...issues...and plan how to defeat the Forces of Evil ranged against them. What do you mean, "who could possibly be their sworn enemies"? Why, the Duplo Block Club, of course!

Whew! Clearly the television shows one watches as a young, impressionable child can have lasting effects long into adulthood. So I'll just keep this all to myself, and let Riley and his little architectural buddies do their thing...while I go catch a syndicated episode of Lois and Clark for old time's sake, and wait patiently to hear what the J.F.L.L. will actually be doing with their sessions from now until March. (Thinking back, I do recall something in the initial communication about "working in teams, brainstorming, collaborating, problem solving"...but that should leave plenty of time to set up that Command Center, right? Here's hoping...)

Monday, December 3, 2012

Dear Abby, Adolescent-Style...

Do you ever wish you could hear exactly what people thought of you, without having to filter through any of the tactful social conventions or polite beating-around-the-bush? Well, if you chat with a preteen boy, you just might get his honest, unvarnished...bordering-on-obnoxious....opinion. For example, Derek wandered into my room last night to share a favorite Calvin and Hobbes comic he'd just been rereading. In it Calvin's parents had left him with a babysitter for the evening.  Of course Calvin got up to his usual mischievous hijinks, and in a clever but misguided attempt to rid himself of adult supervision, anonymously called the police to report that he and his stuffed pal were being held in a "hostage situation". Whew, his Mom and Dad must have been in stitches, right? After Derek had gleefully recounted the highlights with much hilarity, he calmed down, paused for a moment, then soberly stated, "You and Dad never DO anything." Um...excuse me....what? He continued, "Yeah, he goes to work, and you just...are a Mom. You guys need to go out more!" Oh, I was onto him: "You mean so you can plot ways to terrorize a babysitter, too?" But he denied it, "No, you just need to be more...wild!"

What can you do defend yourself against such a heinous charge? (Because clearly, in his eyes, this is tantamount to being a deadly dull person with no redeeming value whatsoever.) Naturally, I immediately launched a vigorous protest. "But, but...I go to dance class!" He scoffed, "That doesn't count." Um...thinking, here..."Sometimes I do dinner and a movie with my sister!" He remained supremely unimpressed. In desperation I threw out, "Wait, sometimes I meet friends for lunch!" He favored me with his most withering look and shot back, "And I'll bet you sit nicely, and talk quietly...MY lunch is probably more exciting than that!" (Translating from Boyspeak, I inferred "exciting" to mean "unruly, raucous, and borderline-visit-to-the-principal-worthy". So yeah, I guess my Ladies' Lunches are quite civilized and tame by comparison...and we've never gotten thrown out of anyplace, so actually that works for me!)

I began to realize--with dawning horror and mortification--that perhaps he has a point. I like to think of myself as somewhat adventurous--or at least open to new experiences--after all, I ride roller coasters! I snorkel! Heck, I even take week-long vacations where I'm carbound for thousands of miles with my family...on purpose! If that's not wild and crazy, I don't even know the meaning of the words. The kicker is, there are soooooo many stories I could tell him, about driving cross-country by myself (totally shareable); about hiding out on a train from Monaco back to France because my travel companion and I had neglected to buy roundtrip tickets and didn't want to get stranded (mild criminal activity--probably okay); about calling in sick for three unauthorized days to attend Mardi Gras with friends and staying up all night...ahem....frolicking (yeah, he's not hearing anecdotes about that particular interlude, anytime soon). But I suppose in day-to-day LIFE, the details are in fact pretty regulated, structured, and predictable around here. I'm not saying this is necessarily bad, either--it keeps us organized and running pretty smoothly in general. However, I concede that my 12-year old, with his blunt analysis, has actually made an insightful observation: perhaps we grownups need to shake things up a little bit, break out of our routines, and try some daring behavior...at least once in a while.

Great, that's decided! Now, I wonder if he has any suggestions...