Thursday, February 28, 2013

Leaving so soon, February? (Buh-bye!)

February-that short-yet-fiesty (and perhaps a few other choice "f" words...like "frigid"...what did you think I meant?) Winter month--is preparing to leave us, and we wish it a swift farewell (pause for me to kick it in the...butt...as it goes out the door). I always harbor these heartfelt hopes that the very act of flipping the calendar page to March will magically cause Spring to arive also. (Sadly, these desires usually go profoundly unfulfilled. But one can continue to cross one's fingers, squeeze one's eyes shut, and murmur fervent prayers to the fickle Weather Gods...who seem to view the year's third month as an absolutely smashing time to play meteorological practical jokes on us, in the form of gusty winds, freezing temps, and sometimes even an errant late-season snowstorm. Such bad behavior--if I were Mother Nature, March would be grounded until they cleaned up their act! But I reallllyyyy digress...)

When the weather outside is frightful, what's an active family to do? Well, each of us has had to fill the extended indoor time with some novel entertainment and exercise options. I've already mentioned the Nerf-basketball-dunking in which my sons engage. On other occasions they'll use the basement to throw a soft stuffed football around, running plays and calling a simulated game. Both Husband and I utilize the Schwinn stationary bike and hand weights for downstairs workouts when we'd rather avoid the elements (and as a bonus: watch TV while sweating). All of us do a tremendous amount of reading--although Riley might hold the record for thousands of pages finished this Winter (that is, if we'd been counting...which we totally should have...rats! Oh well, there's always next year, right?) Riley has also revisited his Legos, spending many quiet hours in his room constructing, demolishing, and restructuring the various vehicles and buildings in his miniature world.

Then there are the new sports that have been added to our activity resume. For Derek, this means indoor soccer, which he's playing with a whole big group of his Fall/Spring teammates at a nearby arena. When his coach told us he wanted to register for the league, we all thought it sounded like a fabulous idea--hone your skills and enjoy some aerobic conditioning while spending quality time with your pals, right? Yeah, that was the "vision". In reality, it's been more like an adolescent version of...Boot Camp. (Ha!) Most of the other teams, besides looking very much like full-grown men, appear to have been playing the indoor game together since, oh, let's say...pre-school...or so. Thus Derek's squad routinely suffers a butt-kicking (ha! I can't help myself today...) Oh, let's not forget: all the while running sprints and getting shoved into the walls a la the NHL. However...over the past few weeks we parents sympathetically sitting by on the sidelines have noted some definite improvement (that is, except when a kid gets slammed into the plexiglass directly in front of us; then we're covering our eyes and cringing). If nothing else, our guys will benefit from the cardiovascular training...and the "toughening up" from having to hold your ground against the shoulder-checking of some giant boy-men. (Side note: it does lead to rather creative parental cheering--"Way to go, honey! Nice job not getting crushed by that...guy who needs a shave!")

Finally, there's my new pursuit: Jazz dance. I joined a lovely group of ladies in October for a one-hour weekly class, and we've been stretching, strengthening, and working on our routine (for the Showcase in June--but that's a whole other story) ever since. Now, my background includes tap and ballet as a child, and adult ballet and hip-hop. Suddenly I had to learn unfamiliar vocabulary like chaines, soutenu, and pas de bourre...and also teach my body to actually DO those things. But you know how the experts say one of the best ways to slow down the aging process is to continue to challenge yourself mentally and physically throughout life? Well, this totally fits the bill. So, that's all very good advice...but how much fun is it? Oh. My. Goodness. One of the best hours of my entire week. Because we're going to be "performing" on stage in a few months, some of my classmates had the brilliant idea to tack on an additional practice period once in a while, so everyone could cement the steps more firmly in both mind and muscle-memory. One of the women jokingly told her husband she had to attend "Remedial Dance"...but as far as I'm concerned, it's Extra Awesome!

Yes, we're all completely ready for warm air and more daylight in the afternoon hours. (10 days...and counting! Yippeeee!) But I'm happy to report that we haven't been sitting around on the sofa, eating chips, staring at the tube, and getting squishy in the cold months. We've stayed busy, kept the whining to a minimum, and generally behaved ourselves...can we have Spring now as our reward????

Saturday, February 23, 2013

A Variety of Indoor Sports

As I believe I've already mentioned (once, or twice...or a hundred times), Team WestEnders is so very, very O-V-E-R Winter. The weather lately has presented us with a delightful blend of cold, wind, and damp, making it...unpleasant, at best...to spend any time outdoors. And even if the boys wanted to brave the outside world, our backyard has settled into a state of perpetual swampiness, such that any attempted activities end up resembling a mud wrestling match, whether that was the intention or not. So, my sons have been forced to spend too much time in the house, roaming about like caged animals, brainstorming ways to amuse themselves. For example, the other day I was suddenly startled by a loud banging noise coming from somewhere in the vicinity of the basement. (Unfortunately, this is not an entirely unusual occurrence...but warrants investigation, nonetheless.) The entire house seemed to vibrate for a second, but there was no accompanying sound of wood splintering...or heads cracking open...or children screaming in pain...so I cautiously crept down the stairs to check it out. I found the brothers using my mini-exercise-trampoline to launch themselves airborne and slam dunk into the Nerf hoop attached to the storage room door. (Okey-dokey, that neatly explains the crashing noises...) But wait, that's not all: they had borrowed my iPod to play background music, thereby enhancing the showmanship of each shot. Why, you might wonder, couldn't they just use Derek's iPod? Well, because he had securely anchored it to a spot on the wall above the action....in order to capture their antics on video...naturally. And you know what? I watched a few of the test runs that Derek gleefully replayed for me...and I had absolutely no complaint about this game they had concocted. They were playing cooperatively, having a total blast, and getting some exercise in the process: WIN!

Then...things got a whole lot more interesting. During a break (Halftime?) they wandered upstairs panting, sweaty, and parched--in search of a breather and a drink. Riley found me in my room, flopped himself on the bed, and without any warning whatsoever announced, "Derek's been texting a GIRL!" Derek, from about two steps behind him, threw up his hands and yelled incredulously, "Really, dude? Why did you do that?" (In his defense, Riley honestly doesn't see this as "tattling" per se...he's just constitutionally unable to keep a secret. Full disclosure at all times...even when it's about someone else. Gotta say, as a Mom: LOVE that! Until he rats me out one day for something or other, of course...) I then shifted into full Inquisition Mode--what's her name, what are you chatting about, blah blah blah.

You see, this is a whole new Social Universe we've recently entered and the Ground Rules have barely been established. A little backstory: since we--his Tyrannical Parents--have continued to balk at giving Derek his own cellphone, he downloaded a free texting app to his iPod. (What actually happened: a soccer buddy recommended the program, then hounded Derek until he acquired my permision...) So Derek had really just wet his feet in the stream of electronic communication. I immediately hastened to set some parameters: don't delete any texts; Mom has the right to read any conversations; and the most important one--before you hit "send", think about whether it would be appropriate to share with to your grandmother, and if not, DELETE instead. I read the first few strands back and forth between him and a couple of his pals--all innocuous, silly boy stuff. But the girl thing? Yikes! Somehow I didn't see that coming! Caught me completely unprepared! After all, this is a guy who--just a few days ago, I swear--seriously didn't even know what girls were...much less care...

And, our story only escalates from there. As we were about to leave the indoor soccer arena after Derek's game last night, a teammate ran up to us and (grinning deviously) burst out, "Hey, Derek, did you tell your mom you have a girlfriend?' I gaped at him and stammered, "I'm sorry...I thought you said...WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" I put my arm conspiratorially around his friend (although that might be an outdated term at this point, depending on whether or not Derek forgives him...) and bade him walk with me as I pumped him for information that my suddenly closed-mouthed son had neglected to share. Derek shook his head and groaned, but all-in-all took it in stride, as is his tendency anyway. Once the proverbial cat was out of the...gym bag...Derek didn't seem to mind discussing the subject. I quizzed him about the particulars--who is she, when did this happen, what did you say, what did she say...and the most critcal detail of all: what on Earth does it mean to "have a girlfriend" in the 7th grade????? From what I could gather, he asked her if she wanted to "go out with him"; she said yes. Apparently they talk in school and walk together in the halls if they're going the same direction... but as far as I can tell, that's about it. (Pshewwwwwww! That is All. I. Can. Handle. at the moment...) After I'd had some time to process, I did ask him one more pertinent question, "Did you text her, or ask her face-to-face?" The answer: he talked to her in person at school. My almost-13-year-old was brave enough to ask a girl out? Wow--I don't know if I'm more impressed...or terrified (although still a bit miffed that he hadn't told me himself...)!

This all transpired while Husband was still out-of-town, so Derek inquired, "Are you gonna tell Dad?" I assured him I would only do so with his blessing, but now that Operation Undercover Girlfriend had been revealed, Derek seemed proud and enthusiastic to hash over the saga...repeatedly. He did ruefully recounted how much grief he'd endured during school hours from some of his friends who refused to stop teasing him. And during the soccer game Derek had scored a nice goal off of a header and a teammate on the bench called out, "Who's that dedicated to, Derek?" Sigh. Boys. But I think Husband put the final punctuation to the story when he remarked, "Well, he's about four years ahead of the curve from when I started interacting with girls....should we be worried?" Yeah, I think the time for Denial has come to a screeching halt and now we switch to the...Grounded Until Age 30 phase...no, that's not it...maybe Adolescent Guidance and Training? Great, something else for me to study up on...and it looks like I'd better get busy!

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Gastronomic Hits...and Misses

We take our food pretty seriously around here--not that we have gourmet palates...or 5-star chef skills...but we generally do enjoy eating a variety of cuisines and tasting new dishes from time to time. Sometimes the experimental items I test on my family meet with approval, and join our repertoire. Quinoa (which has been around for centuries, but I certainly had never heard of it before becoming a vegetarian and searching for new sources of protein) springs to mind as one of the "keepers" we've come to incorporate often into our diet. Other attempts have not been nearly so well-received...yes, tofu, I'm talking to you. (Sigh. So much potential, such an unfortunate...sponge-like...texture...) There are a few delicacies we outright avoid...like beets. (I know people love them, and insist that they're delicious when prepared properly, but we just can't go there. Husband and I chalk it up to traumatic childhood experiences involving slimy pickled...things. Shudder.)

And then there are the culinary wild cards I've been, let's say, "working up to": hello, brussels sprouts. This particular item took me a loooooong time to actually even consider cooking. You see, when I was growing up, my mother served these to us fairly regularly. I don't know exactly how Mom prepared them (bless her pea pickin' heart--ugh, peas, another vegetable I shun, but that's a different story...) but to this day I harbor vivid memories of limp...boiled...little balls of pungent cabbage-iness. I can still smell them, taste them, feel the mushiness in my mouth--and I'm not kidding, I always gagged when I tried to eat them. (I admit that may very well have been a psychologically-based physical reaction caused by how much I despised them. I also recall torrents of tears, perhaps in an attempt to coax my mother's sympathy. It must have worked, because my sister, brother and I were all eventually permitted to choose one--and only one--vegetable that we could always refuse at dinner. Yeah, buh-bye b-sprouts!) So you can see that I have history with these misleadingly-innocent-looking leafy green spheres, scars that needed to be ovecome before I could give them another chance to woo my tastebuds. But for some reason--maybe due to the decades that have passed since my break with brussels sprouts, I was feeling more kindly toward them of late, perhaps even willing to take that leap...

Then, as fate would have it, I was grocery shopping one day and encountered brussels-sprouts-in-a-bag. Already picked, washed, and ready to...whatever one does to render them palatable before springing them on one's unsuspecting family (bwah hah hah). Furthermore, they were on sale--it was clearly a sign from the Produce Gods! So I brought them home...and hid them from the children so I could present them as a fait accompli, without having to endure endless complaining and protesting beforehand. But at dinner the other night, we were talking about food (imagine that: us, discussing eating...while eating...typical) and somehow Derek mentioned brussels sprouts. I don't remember word-for-word what he said, but the context was decidedly NOT favorable, something along the lines of "one of those awful foods you'll absolutely never force on us, right"? I just couldn't help myself. I flashed him a sinister grin as I dramatically produced the bag o' brussels and flourished it in his general direction.

The reaction was instantaneous and impassioned. "NOOOOOOOO!!!!" both boys yelled simultaneously, waving their arms toward the offending foodstuff as if warding off some unspeakable evil. (I was immensely entertained already.) But then the verbal tirade began in earnest. "Mom, you purposely waited until Dad was gone to do this to us, didn't you?" Derek accused. (I assured him it was purely coincidence. However, one less reluctant participant is a good thing...) Then he turned to Riley, "C'mon, bro, let's run away from home to escape this torture." (Um, thank you very much, Mr. Drama. And the Oscar goes to...) It seemed as though Riley might have been slightly less horrified; at least he was giggling more and objecting less. Finally Derek fired his parting shot, "What's Dad's cell phone number? I want to text him and tell him what's going on around here!"

Sheesh, you'd think my intention was to break some kind of Child Care Code of Conduct or something, the way he went on and on...and all because I nefariously plotted to provide him with a nutritious, reportedly cancer-fighting, (hopefully) yummy green vegetable! So far I've printed out a supposedly "kid-approved" recipe for cooking them, but with our busy week I haven't gotten around to actually removing them from the bag and plopping them in a pan. Tomorrow...the Great Brussels Sprout Trial shall commence... (bwah ha ha!)

Teamwork in action...

Husband was called away for his own little journey to the South this week, to perform the duties of a Good Son. Specifically, he's assisting his parents after his mother underwent a surgical procedure. (Or, as he much more colorfully described the assignment: "helping out my folks in the first post-op days, before they have to rely on their fellow senior-citizen neighbors to take up the slack.") For us left to manage Casa WestEnders, this meant we had to make certain shifts to our typical routine. Some of these are minor, such as ensuring that the garbage gets collected from trashcans throughout the house and put out for pickup on Monday morning (Husband's chore). No problem, done! (Task remembered and properly executed...patting self on back. These things are not to be taken lightly, you know! Memo to self: reward with cookies later...) And with President's Day, the boys and I took advantage of an extra 24-hours to relax and get stuff done. (Hello, new shoes for anyone? Yeah, that would be the kids...at least this time they actually wore out a pair, rather than grew out of them...small victories, I tell ya...)

But suddenly. as the return to work and school loomed on Tuesday, a horrifying thought struck me--would I be expected to actually climb out of bed ahead of my preferred hour (that is, anytime before 7 a.m.), tend to Derek in the morning (pre-coffee? are you kidding me?), or (worst of all) walk him to the bus stop? At 7:20? But it's freezing! And...freakin' EARLY! When I expressed my concerns to Derek, in the most loving and supportive way possible, of course ("You don't reaallllly need your mother to get you off to school anymore...right, buddy?" in a wheedling tone, with an expression full of hope....) he assured me that he normally prepares his own breakfast anyway, and is in fact perfectly capable of seeing himself to the end of the street to await his transportation. (Pshew! That's what I thought, but how would I know? I spend a great deal of effort strenuously trying to avoid that portion of the morning.) However, no sooner was that resolved that I faced another blip in the schedule; Husband normally ferries Riley to his Math Olympiad practice before school on Tuesdays. Hmm, Riley can't drive himself, it's too far to send him on foot...rats! No wiggling out of that one...

With those issues successfully handled, the rest of our activities were pretty much business-as-usual. There are a million little details to attend to in the evenings, so one way I lighten my workload is to plan especially simple meals. (As long as there's a plateful of edibles in front of them, and it appears reasonably tasty, the boys don't tend to make a fuss as to actual content. Unless I try to sneak tofu past them, but that's a different story...) Or as Derek gleefully exclaimed today, "Hey, we're eating like college students this week!" He actually had to finish slurping his mouthful of Ramen noodles to share this insight... (Give me a break--at least I made a salad to go along with it!) Tomorrow his school is partnering with Domino's for a fundraiser to benefit the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. (Oh darn, we're being forced to eat PIZZA...for a good cause!) Then Thursday we're doing the perennially-kid-pleasing breakfast-for-dinner thing (a special occurrence we generally save for when we know Dad won't be joining us, as it's not one of his faves...)

So to sum up: everyone's (so far...tapping the faux-wooden desk for luck...) getting where they need to be, when they need to be there, fully clothed and fed. (Bonus points for the last two, yeah?) I'd say even though the team is down one coach at the moment, we're doing alright...now what day is tomorrow and what exactly are we supposed to be doing?

Friday, February 15, 2013

A day of love...and other stuff...

We're not a big mushy-gushy Valentine's Day family. The precedent was set early; even when we were dating, Husband scorned it as a "Hallmark holiday"...yet bought me cards and chocolate anyway, thus deftly managing to skate by with minimal effort, but still receive full marks for gift satisfaction. (What? Doesn't everyone keep a mental Report Card to evaluate the long-term potential of Significant Others?) And to this day, that's how we tend to commemorate Hearts, Sweets, and Flowers Day around here: with little surprises--tokens of our affection, really--that show each other we're thinking of them and we care.

It's hard to be sneaky when you all live together in the same house, but Husband and I apparently each had the same brainstorm: to take the boys out shopping for treats on the premise of "picking something up" or "running out for a quick errand, be back soon". Yeah, it fooled absolutely no one, but it was a cute ploy, nonetheless. Even funnier--when the Male Trio returned from their mysterious outing, Husband had the brilliant idea to hide the purchases in Riley's closet...about 10 feet from where I was sitting in my room, reading or Facebooking or some such nonsense. So Riley--the very epitome of subtlety and deception (HA! The boy never met a secret he didn't love...to TELL...as soon as possible!)--was dispatched to engage me in conversation and prevent me from catching sight of my goodies. He planted himself directly in my doorway, an enormous canary-eating grin splitting his face, and pretended to be oh-so-smooth: "So, Mom, what's up? How's it going?" and other inane chatter. Adorable...gooberhead.

My own excursion with my sons was much more of the stealthy variety--aided by the fact that Husband was working on the computer in the home office at the time, and probably didn't even notice we had gone out. (But we're still Valentine Ninjas, I tell ya!) However, the easiest trip of all occurred when I was able to blitz a local Target during school and work hours, while everyone else was away. I purchased all of my little love trinkets in one place, at one time, without anyone being the wiser. For one last special present, I popped by Dunkin' Donuts before work on the 14th to select eclairs adorned with red-and-pink-sprinkles--you know, in case they didn't achieve off-the-charts-sugar-intake during the rest of their festive day. (Obviously no photographic evidence of their existence remains...you'll just have to take my word for it....I wouldn't lie about donuts!)

Without further ado--here, as they say, is the proof in the pudding: (No, I don't know what that means...)



Husband, true to form, went with the time-honored dark chocolate option. Guess I neglected to tell him I'm not eating it during Lent...oops! (If I hide it away from scavengers--I mean "the children", I'm sure it will remain unopened and fresh until Easter, yeah?) The red hearts came filled with M&Ms (for Riley) and gum (for Derek, who's recently become OBSESSED with chewing the stuff, since he was freed from braces). Speaking of current fascinations--Riley chose the purple frog (his amphibian of choice) to give to me, probably because he knew I'd allow him to "watch over it" for me amidst the ever-growing collection of stuffed croakers in his room (although they don't actually make noise, thank goodness). The decorated sack is Riley's Swag Bag from his class party at school. He made out well--with cards, candy, and small toys galore.

As for the paper expressions of esteem, I will highlight my two favorites. The first was chosen by Derek for his Dad; it has Daffy Duck on the front saying, "Oh, Dearest Father, before you open this valentine, pause and reflect on the joyous moments that I have provided you with in the past." Inside, Daffy's indignantly looking at his watch and exclaiming, "You could have reflected a little longer than that!" When we picked it up in the store, we laughed out loud imagining Derek's voice delivering the lines, so obviously that was a perfect choice for a smart-mouth almost-teenaged son. Then there was Husband's selection for me. It features a photo of two squirrels on the front, appearing deep in serious conversation (as much as possible for small rodents, I suppose). The charming speech bubble over one of their heads proclaims (wait for it) "My nuts are yours." Sooooo heartfelt and touching, right? Sigh. (To his credit, he balanced it out with a sappy one as well. Nice save, dear...)

Thus ends another Valentine's Day and all the silliness that goes with it. Fortunately, even when all of the edible presents have disappeared, the bond of family remains...and it certainly seems like there's always another chocolate-giving celebration right around the corner (Bunny Day, Mother's Day...Flag Day--work with me, here...nothing says "symbol of freedom" quite like the ability to consume chocolate with abandon, and without fear of reprisal...or that may be just me...again... oh well...Happy Whatever, anyway!)

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Of Pancakes...and Penitence!

Whoo hoo, it's Mardi Gras! Around our house, that signifies several things--none of which involve Hurricanes, plastic bead necklaces, or nudity of any kind. (Ah, the good old days...) First, there's the annual discussion of "what to give up for Lent". As has become his custom over the last several years, Derek tried his standard response of "tofu!" This generally earns him a glare and a sharp "take this seriously, smart-aleck". Riley, however, answered almost immediately, firmly vowing that for the 40 days until Easter, he would cease eating meat. Jaws dropped all around, for various reasons. Husband can't imagine voluntarily choosing to become a vegetarian--even temporarily. I wondered how much I'd have to step up my cooking game to accommodate another non-carnivore in the family, and to make sure he'd get all the nutrition a growing boy needs. As for Derek, he threw his hands up in astonishment and cried, "Bacon! Dude, how will you survive for 6 weeks without bacon!" But Riley has stuck to his guns, and claims that starting tomorrow, he fully intends to shun the consumption of creatures for 40 days. (Except...then I explained about Catholics' Meatless Fridays, when they often substitute fish instead, and he loved this plan. So we'll institute Fishy Fridays for Team WestEnders...omnivores, Lenten pescetarians...minus the ACTUAL vegetarian, of course...) This must have inspired Derek to finally consider the question more thoughtfully, since he decided to sacrifice...cereal. What? My initial response was something along the lines of "is that really such a hardship?" (Delivered in a suitably stern tone.) But he indignantly assured me that "it's my favorite snack food, Mom; I eat it every day after school!" (Okay, then! Jeesh! Memo to me: stock up on alternative carbs to satisfy the ravenous 3 p.m. beast...)

Although he's the only one in the household who actually was raised Catholic, Husband generally declines to participate in these proceedings. This year, however, he wasn't allowed a pass. During the dinnertime discussion, Riley suggested that Dad cut out...hot sauce. This might sound ridiculous, but if you saw Husband sitting there almost hidden behind an industrial-sized bottle of Frank's, you'd understand what sparked the idea. (Yes, he literally "puts that s...tuff...on everything!") Husband spared a wistful glance at his beloved condiment-of-choice before manfully agreeing that he would, in fact, live red-pepper-free for Lent. And as for me? Chocolate. Since I cut down pretty drastically on sweets last year, I don't really have cravings, per se...but if there's dark chocolate around, it sends out some sort of Siren call to me and I can't resist eating it, more out of habit than anything else. With a stupid genetic tendency toward diabetes, it's (unfortunately) not in my best interests. So that one was really a no-brainer, and hopefully this will lead to it becoming an ingrained lifestyle change rather than just a short-term fix.

Well, with all that difficult decision-making aside, it was clearly time for some Fat Tuesday feasting. In our family, we go with the Pancake Supper theme. (Although in lieu of the male appetites, it also incorporates eggs--and of course the aforementioned bacon--as well.) I don't know why it never occurred to me before, but suddenly we all wondered "just what on earth do pancakes have to do with the day before Ash Wednesday?" I mean, even churches--in a number of denominations--follow this tradition. So naturally...I Googled it. According to my research, some sources believe the practice began in the Middle Ages, as a way for devout Christians to use up the "rich foods" they weren't supposed to enjoy during the fasting period of Lent. These included eggs, milk, butter, and sugar--none of which would remain fresh or even edible over time, before the invention of preservatives or refrigeration. Thus the delicious pancakes helped them to not only enjoy a last decadent meal before self-deprivation, but also to avoid wasting perishable foodstuffs. Brilliant! Obviously in the modern age we don't face the same challenges with food storage...or strict adherence to dietary restrictions, for that matter. But who cares! Bring on the flapjacks, and laizzez les bon temps rouler! (That's French for "pass the syrup", right?)

Speaking of which, in the spirit of "living it up" tonight, perhaps I should go savor just one last mini Special Dark bar...for old times sake...(and incidentally, one less tiny treat to tempt me. Here we go, 40 days and counting!)

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Boys to Men...sort of...

As a parent, I've read the wisdom of Child Development Experts, about how you're not supposed to compare your offspring, as they're each unique individuals with their own strengths, weaknesses, and personality traits. Instead, you should respect their differences while appreciating what makes them special in their own way. Furthermore, you don't ever want to damage their self-esteem by causing them to feel inferior to a sibling...blah blah blah. Well, I say the heck with all that, because this week the uppermost question in my mind with regards to my cherished sons is: who's really the more mature one at the moment?

On one side, we have Derek, two months shy of his 13th birthday, a tall 7th-grader immersed in Middle School Life with its complex brew of academic, athletic, and social demands. In the other corner there's Riley, a precocious, chatty 9 1/2 year old 4th-grader whose extra-curricular activities include Math OlympiadLego Club, and interfacing with pals on his Nintendo 3DS. Over the years as he's grown up, we've come to see Derek as a levelheaded, organized, bright kid...I mean, until recently. Adolescence might have snuck up on us, but it's apparently arrived with a vengeance. Suddenly Derek seems to be floating through life (that is, when he's not banging into walls with his gangly limbs or stumbling over his own gorilla-feet) like the proverbial absentminded professor--forgetting school assignments, asking where to find things, repeating conversations because he doesn't recall participating in them the first time. It's such a pervasive phenomenon, Husband has even labeled the syndrome: Teenage Boy Brain. (Catchy, yeah?) It explains why Derek brought home the best report card of his life First Quarter...followed by--you guessed it--the worst one Second Quarter. And all because of silly missed homeworks and careless errors that were completely avoidable if he were, um, "operating at his full intellectual capacity".

Meanwhile, Riley chugs along in his usual reliable way, thus far blessedly untouched by the storm of hormones affecting his big brother. He's steady, dependable, independent...and often says things that make everyone around him stop and stare as they issue from his cute little mouth, in his charmingly-boyish voice. Such as when we passed one of those signs on the side of the road that warns you about the daily danger of forest fires. Since it's the middle of Winter, and it was snowing at the time, Smoky the Bear indicated the risk was "Low". Riley snorted, "Low? It should say 'miniscule'!" "Um...yeaaahhh honey, you're absolutely right," I agreed...while Derek just turned to gape at him, shaking his head incredulously. Later that same day as we waited for the lift to pull us to the top of the tubing run, Riley sighed and said, "This isn't just slow; it takes an eternity." Let's just say HIS report card was (fortunately) no big surprise...

This weekend Derek attended a school friend's Bar Mitzvah; marking the first time he'd experience a Jewish temple service. It required him to dress up more formally than he's ever had to before--even borrowing a tie from Husband and a suit jacket from my girlfriend who has older sons. As I was banned from the proceedings (Derek forcefully informed me that "NO parents are going, Mom, NONE!" Alrighty, then...I'll stay home in my pjs and drink more coffee! Win!), I had to hear later from the celebrant's father that all of the guests were "perfect gentlemen, very well-behaved" during the (wait for it) two-and-one-half-hour ritual! Holy...Hebrew Rite of Passage...Rabbi, that's a lotta religion, right there! (And I have to admit, I had been a little apprehensive before sending him...unsupervised...because the other day at breakfast I had to admonish him about spilling food on his shirt...again...and remind him that he'd have to exercise decorum when eating in public at the party. He jokingly--I think--groaned, "I hate these social events. You can't act like savages." Oh. Dear.) No wonder, then, that Derek reported a spirited game of...football...broke out when they returned to the family's house for a catered lunch. Imagine a dozen or so teenage-ish kids in dress clothes running amok to burn off some steam...sigh...boys. Eh, he came home with some mud on his apparel, rather than ketchup--I suppose I can accept that.

So right now I'd have to say it's kind of a toss-up between who's behavior and emotional state is more advanced at any given moment. I just have to hope that as Derek continues his journey, wading through the stream of adolescence toward manhood, he regains his powers of critical thinking and his acute mental clarity...BEFORE Riley comes down with his own case of Teenage Boy Brain! (If there's a Patron Saint for Mothers of Adolescents, I beg of you: One at a Time, PLEASE!)

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Super Social Bowl Sunday

Did you ever have one of those times when what feels like several weeks' worth of social events get compressed into one ginormous Blowout Day of Fun? Yeah, last Sunday was like that for us. It started bright and early with a 7:30 wakeup call. (Not literally--more like a quick shake, a brisk swishing open of the curtains, and a lot of grumbling. Vacating our cozy beds was a necessary step toward the entertainment to come...but it didn't mean we were so very cheerful about it at the outset...) Once everyone's eyes had sufficiently opened, we commenced with the critical Layering of Winter Apparel portion of our agenda. Long underwear, wool socks, sweat clothes...all of which required precise instructions from a parent to ensure they actually made it on, as my children would leave the house wearing shorts and tee shirts every day of the year if left to their own devices. Then the REST of the gear--piles of snowpants, coats, hats, gloves, boots--needed to be loaded into the car. Finally, equipped with as much portable food as we could hold for a car-breakfast, we hit the road. Destination: Ski Liberty, for a tubing excursion with my brother's family in celebration of my nephew's birthday.

Once we arrived, it was an extravaganza of slippery, snowy amusement. I have to say, this is one of the few legitimate reasons I can accept for voluntarily being out in the cold for several hours. Even though I'm an "amateur" (Riley's word) or even "boring" (yeah, one guess which pre-teen smart aleck said that) because I refused to take a running start, fling myself onto the inflatable ring face-first, and slide down the track on my belly...it was still enough of a rush for me, thank you very much. Gazing down the steep hill, feeling the inner tube pick up speed as you skim the moguls, blinking against the wind and fine frozen spray--whoo, good stuff. We made the loop up the lift and down the course as many times as we were allowed in our two-hour session, before regrouping in the lodge for some toe-and-hand-defrosting. But wait...that was only the first event in the day's plan. Next we rendezvoused at a nearby Pizza Hut to feed the ravenous savages...I mean "children" and present Redskins cupcakes to the Birthday V.I.P. (And don't ask me about the team-that-shall-not-be-named. That's what he wanted, so that's what I made. Hopefully this is just an unfortunate, but temporary, phase...)

After the ear-splitting and chaotic lunch, Team WestEnders returned to Home Base for a few hours to clean up (i.e.: ditch 27 now-extraneous articles of clothing), rest, and ready ourselves for the final shebang on the schedule: Super Bowl viewing at my Dad's house. Although I'm not a football fan myself, I knew I'd be awash in a crowd of rabid purple-clad Ravens supporters, all hyped up about the Big Game. My dad, my brother and sister, my niece and nephews, my sons, and Husband and I all gathered around the television to soak in the full ceremonial splendor surrounding the NFL Championship. From the stirring America the Beautiful, (nicely presented by the student chorus from Sandy Hook Elementary, with a lovely assist by Jennifer Hudson) to the Star Spangled Banner (soulfully delivered by Alicia Keys), to the highly-anticipated advertisements, nothing was safe from comment or critique by the vocal, bluntly-honest Peanut Gallery. Oh, and somewhere in there, a football game might have occurred. Just kidding--I couldn't possibly forget the action, as my beloved relatives indicated their approval...or disgust...with the force and decibel level of their conversation...whether aimed at the referees, the players, or their fellow spectators in the room. (And it was an exhilarating contest, so they had plenty to cheer or jeer about...)

In the end, after a Ravens-dominated first half, a thrilling kickoff-return TD by Baltimore to start the second half, an unfortunate SuperDome power outage that delayed the game for over 30 minutes, and an impressive (albeit nail-biting for us) San Francisco comeback that closed the score differential by quite a bit...the Ravens finally prevailed to win Super Bowl XLVII. Whew! Purple Nation was equal parts exuberant and relieved...oh, and exhausted. A long February day of food and frolicking came to its happy conclusion...and I think we'll need the next week or so to recover! Excuse me while I go clear my calendar...

Saturday, February 2, 2013

A Tale of Two...Formats...

In my literature-loving household, everyone always keeps books close at hand. To support our pursuit of pleasure reading, we used to breeze over to the town Library (1.5 miles away) as often as we liked, to browse and choose new material. Why the past tense? Because the building has been closed since January 1st, 2011 for renovations. (And even though every time we drive by we send out "Hurry Up and Finish" vibes, the work still seems to progress at a snail's pace...as in "I don't think even Construction Cephalopods could move any more slowly"...) Since then, we've had to explore other options, such as the next nearest county facility...which in my opinion is old, poorly-stocked, and a bit grungy. Slightly further afield, in the adjoining jurisdiction, lies a bright, cheerful Library with rows and rows of nicely-filled shelves. However, it's a 20-minute drive each direction, in the middle of nowhere, on the way to absolutely nothing...so a planned, dedicated trip rather than the "need a book, back in 15 minutes" routine which had us so spoiled before.

In the interim, the beneficiary of our addictive reading habit has become: Amazon. Although I usually watch pennies pretty carefully, books are never something on which I've felt extravagant spending money. In doing so, though, it turns out I may have inadvertently spawned my sons' snobbery toward borrowed books. I'll never forget the first time Derek declined to visit the library with me, earnestly explaining that he'd rather OWN books, so he can reread them over and over. Interestingly, both boys have also scorned the Kindle, adamantly insisting there's no substitute for holding an actual book, turning the pages, blah blah blah. Sigh. (And when did they become such throwbacks? This is shockingly, uncharacteristically-technophobic for my plugged-in children...but wait, stay tuned...)

It's also been informative to watch the evolution of our Family Reading Habits. For example, I've always been someone who focuses on one story at a time before continuing on to the next. That is, until I bought a Kindle so I could carry a light, compact device around campus in my work tote. Now I tend to have a library stack on my nightstand, and an e-book for on-the-job downtime. I've noticed that Riley is often in the middle of two volumes--one he reads at home, and another he schleps back and forth to school. Derek always has one book he's reading for entertainment, along with whatever novel is currently assigned for English class. And Husband has developed into somewhat of a Book Scavenger...rifling through my pile and choosing whatever looks most intriguing to him, rather than making the journey to the distant library himself.

So, for quite some time now, although we continue to mourn the absence of our beloved library and anxiously await its return, (this Summer. We hope...) our makeshift system has functioned pretty smoothly. But then (cue swelling, ominous, music) we experienced a full-blown...Biblio Crisis! You see, I had finished my on-loan books and was ready to return them. Husband wanted to read one of them, however, causing me to miss making the trip on my day off, thus delaying it until sometime next week. So, in the absence of anything to read, I was forced to revert to the Backup Plan...and download a new book to my Kindle to tide me over until such time as I could schedule in an hour or so to visit the next county. Meanwhile, a friend of Derek's from school had recommended a title to him, and even handed him a copy to try. (Middle School Boys' Book Club--L-O-V-E it!) When he showed it to me, I awarded an enthusiastic two-thumbs-up, having recently enjoyed it myself. Well...Derek devoured it in a few days, gave it back to his pal, and came looking to me for the sequel. "Of course, honey, I'd be thrilled to let you read it...but it's on my Kindle..." Oh, the dawning horror: you mean, we have to SHARE? (Shudder...) So I surrendered my little reading machine (gasping theatrically)...but snatched it back as soon as he turned in for the night.

This dilemma has directly resulted in a complete, overnight attitude reversal, regarding the previously-maligned e-reader format. Suddenly Derek clearly recognizes the value of having a book always at the ready--or less than a minute from electronic delivery, at least. I further enlightened his world by imparting the good news that some libraries are equipped to lend you e-books as well. His expression brightened, "That's great! Then you wouldn't have to worry about getting library books in tattered condition!" A stunning turnaround, as you can see. From there, it was only a very small micro-leap to the inevitable: "Mom, do you think I could get a Kindle Fire for my birthday?" Yeah, who didn't see that coming? He continued, "That way, I could play games, listen to music, and read, all on one tablet!" (And let's not forget: Mom could have her Kindle back, right, son?) So, theoretically, in 2-1/2 months when Derek turns 13 (one moment: yiiiiikeeeesssss) we could present him with his own Kindle...which would be nicer than mine...heyyyyyy, my birthday's in April, too...I wonder if we can finagle some kind of 2-for-1 deal? Ah, the perils of Life in Nerdland...



Friday, February 1, 2013

Even Mother Nature has mood swings...

Well, we conquered January, two-faced...wench...that she is, by enduring a wacky final week. We got a little taste of just about everything, weatherwise. There were two days of balmy 60-plus degrees, when Winter-weary denizens took to the outdoors with wild abandon, lapping up the tepid  rays, working out in light clothes instead of wool and thinsulate layers...and smiling contentedly. It suddenly struck me, as I took full advantage of the gentle temperatures to go running, that you just don't see a whole lot of upturned lips, when people are burrowed into their coats and scarves, heads tucked in like down-wrapped turtles, trying to present as tiny a surface area as possible to the elements, in order to preserve warmth. I had plenty of time to contemplate this as I covered ground--nodding to dog-walkers, waving at small children on bikes...and sensing the unmistakable aroma of barbeque grills firing up at the dinner hour. (Also not something you usually experience in January around here.) I was enjoying myself so much I purposefully passed my street...twice...because I just wasn't ready to stop yet. Dee-lightful.

The next day Mother Nature apparently decided she'd been spoiling us, and that would be entirely enough of that, thank you very much. So she bestowed upon us a monsoon-like-storm. Raging gusts of wind, sheeting waterfalls of rain...and the resultant flash floods, of course. Then, just to continue the meteorological mayhem, she dropped the temperature twenty degrees, but let us keep the gale-force breezes. Yayyyy. Finally, as an emphatic punctuation mark to the January nuttiness, she plummeted the thermometer back below freezing and gave us...a fantastically slick sheet of snow and ice last night into today. Oh, and more of that marvelous howling wind. Yippeeeee.

Naturally (ha!) all of this serves to reinforce my deep-seated belief that I really, truly, 100% for sure cross my heart and hope to die...ought to live someplace where Winter is only the name of a season, NOT a finger-numbing, coat-wearing, inside-dwelling phenomenon. Even my children are creeping toward the same conclusion--as they are forced by the frigid conditions to entertain themselves inside the house instead of running around the yard as is their preference. (Because, like me, my kids can only stand so much chill before they reluctantly give up and return to the Mother Ship for warmth.) How desperate are they for fresh air that doesn't freeze your lungs? During the aforementioned deluge, Derek played basketball in the driveway for a half-hour, dripping from every pore and shred of clothing on his person, but nevertheless exuberant about his outdoor game.

As for me...if I must exercise surrounded by walls, at least I can look forward to my dance class to perk up my spirits. And there's always Funky Friday yoga practice at a local studio. I very much dragged my feet about going this morning, not feeling in an Om kind of mood. But after sliding my way there on the not-yet-melted roads, and skating into the building across the perilous parking lot, I found exactly what I needed after all. Amazing stretches, motivating strength challenges, and yes, a much-needed infusion of inner peace. This particular teacher, whom I had never experienced before, told us she likes to close her sessions with a mantra. She proceeded to sing a short phrase, repeated a number of times...while accompanying herself on her own ukelele. (Yes, you read that correctly. Don't laugh, it was absolutely beautiful, inspiring and all-around AWESOME.) After class I approached her to ask for the Sanskrit words that she had used, and she obligingly wrote them down for me: Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu. Translation: May all beings everywhere be happy and free. A lovely sentiment to chase away the Winter Blues, don't you agree? So while I can't play the tune myself, I think it's a good bet I just might find myself chanting this as we head into February...perhaps on each and every one of the 47 days remaining until Spring arrives (YAAAHOOOO!) And namaste...