The official beginning of Fall happened recently (I can't remember which day exactly, since it's not like a celebrated holiday with...hoopla and whatnot...but the trusty calendar assures me it did occur). This event always inspires a big old bagful of mixed emotions in me. On the one hand, in just one week I managed to partake of pumpkin munchkins and pumpkin-flavored coffee at Dunkin' Donuts, pumpkin beer at home, and a pumpkin spice latte at Starbucks. That's a whole lotta yumminess, folks. However, this past few days we began to really notice the dusk descending earlier...and more suddenly. (Our most obvious clue might have been when Riley's soccer team was forced to chase the ball up and down the field at the end of their evening game...in the DARK...) The decreasing daylight always has somewhat of a dampening effect on me--I tend to feel more tired and sluggish at this time of year. (Kind of like a bear preparing to hibernate...which totally explains why I want to stuff myself with food...then curl up in my cave--I mean "bed", and slumber...yeah, that's my story....)
Then again, I'm always ecstatic when the Summer stickiness goes the heck away and leaves us with a cooler, crisper out-of-doors experience. I don't mind trading my capris for long pants and my short sleeves for layers. But I do resist giving up sandals for as long as possible...and I positively postpone wearing socks until I absolutely must. (It's a delicate balance between the toes' rights to freedom and fresh air...and the protection of the sensitive digits from hypothermia, I tell ya!) Speaking of "living in between", we are also enjoying that sweet spot in the calendar when the air-conditioning is off, but the heat isn't called for quite yet. (Of course, this generally necessitates an almost nightly reappraisal of one's Personal Linen Preferences, to achieve just the right weight and material of sheets and covers...for maximum comfort without either sweating or freezing. Yeah, it can be complicated...)
Although we haven't had much color excitement from the leaf changes at this point, it definitely smells like Autumn at times. While out walking through the nearby neighborhoods, I've caught definite whiffs of smoke (as in "wood-burning stove", not a "call 911", thank goodness). Pumpkins have popped up on a few porches of late. (And more importantly, in the local nursery where the boys and I go to select ours...soon...ish...) Furthermore, the very motivated among us (or rather "them", since I'm not even on the fringes of this group) have already hung some early Halloween decorations to usher in the spooky month of October...which is right around the corner waiting to pounce. (Yikes!)
So really, this might be the golden time of the season. You have a myriad of culinary pumpkin options. The leaves still cling firmly to the trees and thus require no raking. The weather should continue on its best behavior for a while longer (crossing fingers...and unfettered toes). And...the disappearing daylight gives me an excuse to wrap up in a blanket, lounge on the couch, and watch new episodes of the shows I like...before hibernating (I mean "turning in for the night"). Hmmm, what have I missed so far...oh yeah, all I wish for now is...a pumpkin muffin!
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
What Not To Wear (Adolescent Boy Edition)
With the first day of Autumn upon us, the air becoming crisper, and the temperatures dipping into the decidedly chilly range at night, we finally had to admit that it was time for that most challenging of expeditions....that's right, I'm talking about the Storming of Kohl's...with my small attack force of exactly two members...to seize the valuable asset known as...pants. (When facing such a daunting task, I find it's helpful to just go ahead and succumb to the drama. At least that way I'm amused...) Given that my children are BOYS--and have never in their lives given the tiniest thought or emotion to what they place on their bodies when they leave the house--I expected this trip to be a quick and easy proposition. It would be nothing more involved than pointing out some acceptable options (me), cheerfully agreeing to try them on for size (my sons), paying for our selections (me again, rats!) and perhaps ending the triumphant day by celebrating with a tasty beverage. (Pumpkin Latte, anyone?) Ha! Apparently, my naivete knows no bounds, these days.
What actually happened transpired more like this: I held up a perfectly inoffensive pair of sweatpants and asked Riley for his opinion. (My first mistake...) There was an immediate, shocking display of thoroughly obnoxious gagging and retching noises, accompanied by animated eye-rolling and desperate clutching at their throats, as if the very life were being squeezed out of them (which I must confess was not too far from reality, had they continued this embarrassing nonsense in the middle of the store). After they regained control of themselves, and then several more of my offerings were ridiculed for trivial faults such as "I don't want stripes" or "I hate pockets", I couldn't help but wonder: what in heaven's name has gone wrong with my children...and how on earth did I acquire...teenage girls?
After what felt like hours of torture, we finally settled on some fleece pants and trackpants for Riley. Little did we expect that his clothing requirements would turn out to be the easy part of our day, however. You see, Derek decided he wanted some jeans. No problem, right? You can get those everywhere, in a plethora of styles and fits...that is, unless you're built like a long, straight beanpole...in which case it becomes considerably more complicated. (Naturally...sigh...) I read the dizzying array of adjectives out loud to try to pinpoint a likely candidate, "Husky? Yeah, absolutely not. Loose? Hmm, seems risky. How about Relaxed?" To which he quickly replied, without a trace of humor, "Well, my butt IS pretty chill, so that works..." As Riley and I succumbed to gales of laughter, he added with a groan, "That's going on Facebook, isn't it?" (You're learning, sweetie...) Anyway, we ended up having to try a Size 18--with an adjustable waist that you could suck in to make them stay up on my skinny child's hips. (Derek's response to this: "No, Mom...I like saggin'!"Um...just....NOOOOOO) And they had exactly one pair on the shelf, of course.
But if we thought the trials were over, we were so very, very wrong. Because imagine now wandering around searching for elastic-waist pants that will remain planted around his concave midsection. Even with a drawstring, it's a pants-ing just begging to happen. (Middle School boys being ever so predictable...and ridiculous...in that way...) We did prevail, although we had to examine Every. Single. Type. in order to identify the most likely to succeed. In order to complete our arduous assault on the retail world, we had but one more item to obtain: flannel sleep pants for Derek. Now you'd think, of all the things we'd gone through so far, this would be the slam-dunk, right? Easy-peasy, just hold up a pair with a plaid pattern...and get a derisive glare in return. "What could possibly be objectionable about these?" I demanded in exasperation. "Mom," he retorted, "what is it about 'looks like something my grandfather would wear' that you don't understand?" Oh. Good. Grief. (At that moment I really wanted to whack him with a hanger, but I restrained myself by sheer force of will...with great effort...)
Happily, we did manage to come to a truce on the blasted sleepwear, thus completing all phases of our mission without losing any of the participants to...tragic...shopping mishaps, or the like. And in conclusion, all I can say is: they had doggone well better not grow before next Winter, or else...or else what, you might ask? I'll tell you: they'll have mighty cold knees when I go buy shorts without them and that's the only thing they have to wear in February, that's what! Now where's my Pumpkin Latte? I certainly earned it!
What actually happened transpired more like this: I held up a perfectly inoffensive pair of sweatpants and asked Riley for his opinion. (My first mistake...) There was an immediate, shocking display of thoroughly obnoxious gagging and retching noises, accompanied by animated eye-rolling and desperate clutching at their throats, as if the very life were being squeezed out of them (which I must confess was not too far from reality, had they continued this embarrassing nonsense in the middle of the store). After they regained control of themselves, and then several more of my offerings were ridiculed for trivial faults such as "I don't want stripes" or "I hate pockets", I couldn't help but wonder: what in heaven's name has gone wrong with my children...and how on earth did I acquire...teenage girls?
After what felt like hours of torture, we finally settled on some fleece pants and trackpants for Riley. Little did we expect that his clothing requirements would turn out to be the easy part of our day, however. You see, Derek decided he wanted some jeans. No problem, right? You can get those everywhere, in a plethora of styles and fits...that is, unless you're built like a long, straight beanpole...in which case it becomes considerably more complicated. (Naturally...sigh...) I read the dizzying array of adjectives out loud to try to pinpoint a likely candidate, "Husky? Yeah, absolutely not. Loose? Hmm, seems risky. How about Relaxed?" To which he quickly replied, without a trace of humor, "Well, my butt IS pretty chill, so that works..." As Riley and I succumbed to gales of laughter, he added with a groan, "That's going on Facebook, isn't it?" (You're learning, sweetie...) Anyway, we ended up having to try a Size 18--with an adjustable waist that you could suck in to make them stay up on my skinny child's hips. (Derek's response to this: "No, Mom...I like saggin'!"Um...just....NOOOOOO) And they had exactly one pair on the shelf, of course.
But if we thought the trials were over, we were so very, very wrong. Because imagine now wandering around searching for elastic-waist pants that will remain planted around his concave midsection. Even with a drawstring, it's a pants-ing just begging to happen. (Middle School boys being ever so predictable...and ridiculous...in that way...) We did prevail, although we had to examine Every. Single. Type. in order to identify the most likely to succeed. In order to complete our arduous assault on the retail world, we had but one more item to obtain: flannel sleep pants for Derek. Now you'd think, of all the things we'd gone through so far, this would be the slam-dunk, right? Easy-peasy, just hold up a pair with a plaid pattern...and get a derisive glare in return. "What could possibly be objectionable about these?" I demanded in exasperation. "Mom," he retorted, "what is it about 'looks like something my grandfather would wear' that you don't understand?" Oh. Good. Grief. (At that moment I really wanted to whack him with a hanger, but I restrained myself by sheer force of will...with great effort...)
Happily, we did manage to come to a truce on the blasted sleepwear, thus completing all phases of our mission without losing any of the participants to...tragic...shopping mishaps, or the like. And in conclusion, all I can say is: they had doggone well better not grow before next Winter, or else...or else what, you might ask? I'll tell you: they'll have mighty cold knees when I go buy shorts without them and that's the only thing they have to wear in February, that's what! Now where's my Pumpkin Latte? I certainly earned it!
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Still Going...Just Not As Far...
Oh boy. I don't even know where to start with this saga...how about "here we go again"...or better yet "back to the drawing board" or perhaps most appropriately "the best laid plans of mice and...moms"...blah blah blah. You see, it seems that despite my voluminous hours of research, and my impassioned appeals to my family's pioneering spirit, and even our extraordinarily satisfying and successful Summer sojourn out West, the Pacific Plan--beset from the beginning by objections and reluctance which I strived so diligently to overcome--finally hit a fatal snag that punctured its hopeful, delicate facade beyond repair. Is that sufficiently colorful...and cryptic...for you? Okay, okay, I'll elaborate. All along, we had hoped that one major aspect of the Relocation Agenda would take care of itself...meaning that Husband's company would allow him to keep his job and become home-based, with the "home" in question obviously transferring to California. Well, when he broached the subject with the "powers that be"...they were not agreeable at all to green-lighting the idea. (That's right, they pretty much said, "Um...nooooo.") So Husband took the next logical step, and researched other options in the San Francisco area. When he had completed his homework and was ready to report to me, the news was grim. In a nutshell, he didn't find many viable opportunities, and the ones he did unearth would involve a hellacious commute from Sonoma County.
Allllriiiiighty, then. Needless to say, this particular conversation did not commence in a terribly auspicious manner. With the goal of fostering a productive and meaningful discussion, I attempted to explain clearly and concisely what I was feeling at that point. I held out one hand as far as it would stretch to my left and instructed, "Imagine this is California." Then I repeated the action on the other side, "And this is staying here." He nodded somewhat quizzically and I continued, "You're telling me this one (waggling left hand) won't work. I'm saying this one (waving right hand) isn't acceptable either. So let's focus on finding an alternative that both of us can live with, somewhere around here." (Both hands moving together in the middle.)
With that understanding, we revisited (metaphorically, at least) a locale that had come under consideration in previous versions of this topic exploration: North Carolina. The more we delved into different aspects of our (slightly distant) neighbor to the south, the more desirable features we uncovered. Some of the most obvious pluses: the "Eastern Time Zone Advantage" (where most of our immediate family and close friends are situated as well); the "Road Trip Potential" (since returning to Maryland and trekking to Husband's parents' house would both be journeys by car, rather than lengthy, expensive airplane flights) and the very, very crucial "Continuation of Gainful Employment Clause". (As Husband would be joining the ranks of 4 other employees in his company that also work remotely...from North Carolina!)
Having broken ground on this Plan B, if you will, we decided to update the troops--I mean "children" so they could keep abreast of the new developments. They were...bemused....at first by the change. (I have to admit, though, their slight bafflement was nothing compared to what I underwent, being forced to abruptly ditch my extensive lists, charts, maps, notes--heck, an entire file folder stuffed with data--gathered over months of meticulous...Googling..) However, I gave myself a mental pep talk accompanied by a firm shake--as in "let's get on with this"--and jumped back into fact-gathering mode.
The first thing I tackled was Real Estate. ('cuz let's be real, it's F-U-N to look at houses...even virtual ones, am I right?) It turns out, I couldn't have chosen a better motivational tool if I'd yanked one out of a nearby hat. Cost of living in the area we're examining is significantly lower than where we reside now...and at least at this moment, the houses available for sale are bigger and newer than ours, with more land...for around the same price that we'd be asking when we sell. That did it--all we had to do was show the boys a couple of examples of homes, and they were whooping with delight at the prospect of moving. Mind you, these are the same individuals who had given me nothing but complaints about uprooting ourselves and landing in California, but throw in a nice house and some grass, and they're ready to go NOW. (Yeah, they're also beside themselves with glee at the prospect of actually helping select the new digs, since the excursion is short enough that we can make it several times if necessary, on long weekends...did someone say "Christmas Break"?) I'm not kidding, the level of excitement ricocheting off of all three of the male members of Team WestEnders was absolutely astonishing (not to mention being a complete, welcome turnaround).
I wouldn't be completely honest if I didn't admit that letting go of my California dream is hard, and somewhat painful. It's still my ideal place, where I'd go in a heartbeat if it were entirely up to me and me alone. But of course it's not. So we're still going to embrace the adventure--uncharted territory, with novel experiences awaiting us--but our quest has simply altered its form...thereby allowing the whole family to endorse it with their stamp of approval...and even unbridled enthusiasm. Now if you'll excuse me, you're thoroughly caught up for the present...and I have many, many pages of research to revise for my demanding Advisory Committee--I mean "family"--so I'd better get to work (again)!
Allllriiiiighty, then. Needless to say, this particular conversation did not commence in a terribly auspicious manner. With the goal of fostering a productive and meaningful discussion, I attempted to explain clearly and concisely what I was feeling at that point. I held out one hand as far as it would stretch to my left and instructed, "Imagine this is California." Then I repeated the action on the other side, "And this is staying here." He nodded somewhat quizzically and I continued, "You're telling me this one (waggling left hand) won't work. I'm saying this one (waving right hand) isn't acceptable either. So let's focus on finding an alternative that both of us can live with, somewhere around here." (Both hands moving together in the middle.)
With that understanding, we revisited (metaphorically, at least) a locale that had come under consideration in previous versions of this topic exploration: North Carolina. The more we delved into different aspects of our (slightly distant) neighbor to the south, the more desirable features we uncovered. Some of the most obvious pluses: the "Eastern Time Zone Advantage" (where most of our immediate family and close friends are situated as well); the "Road Trip Potential" (since returning to Maryland and trekking to Husband's parents' house would both be journeys by car, rather than lengthy, expensive airplane flights) and the very, very crucial "Continuation of Gainful Employment Clause". (As Husband would be joining the ranks of 4 other employees in his company that also work remotely...from North Carolina!)
Having broken ground on this Plan B, if you will, we decided to update the troops--I mean "children" so they could keep abreast of the new developments. They were...bemused....at first by the change. (I have to admit, though, their slight bafflement was nothing compared to what I underwent, being forced to abruptly ditch my extensive lists, charts, maps, notes--heck, an entire file folder stuffed with data--gathered over months of meticulous...Googling..) However, I gave myself a mental pep talk accompanied by a firm shake--as in "let's get on with this"--and jumped back into fact-gathering mode.
The first thing I tackled was Real Estate. ('cuz let's be real, it's F-U-N to look at houses...even virtual ones, am I right?) It turns out, I couldn't have chosen a better motivational tool if I'd yanked one out of a nearby hat. Cost of living in the area we're examining is significantly lower than where we reside now...and at least at this moment, the houses available for sale are bigger and newer than ours, with more land...for around the same price that we'd be asking when we sell. That did it--all we had to do was show the boys a couple of examples of homes, and they were whooping with delight at the prospect of moving. Mind you, these are the same individuals who had given me nothing but complaints about uprooting ourselves and landing in California, but throw in a nice house and some grass, and they're ready to go NOW. (Yeah, they're also beside themselves with glee at the prospect of actually helping select the new digs, since the excursion is short enough that we can make it several times if necessary, on long weekends...did someone say "Christmas Break"?) I'm not kidding, the level of excitement ricocheting off of all three of the male members of Team WestEnders was absolutely astonishing (not to mention being a complete, welcome turnaround).
I wouldn't be completely honest if I didn't admit that letting go of my California dream is hard, and somewhat painful. It's still my ideal place, where I'd go in a heartbeat if it were entirely up to me and me alone. But of course it's not. So we're still going to embrace the adventure--uncharted territory, with novel experiences awaiting us--but our quest has simply altered its form...thereby allowing the whole family to endorse it with their stamp of approval...and even unbridled enthusiasm. Now if you'll excuse me, you're thoroughly caught up for the present...and I have many, many pages of research to revise for my demanding Advisory Committee--I mean "family"--so I'd better get to work (again)!
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
The Scales are Even...ish...
As human beings forging our paths on this planet, we each encounter our share of successes and shortcomings along the way, in every aspect of our lives. Some of these moments shape our destinies, affect our future choices, or change the course of our very existence, as we manage them to the best of our abilities on any given day. Or, in my case, I find that many of them are simply comprised of the random goofiness that comes along with being the mother of two boys. So here's a sampling of what's been shaking up our little corner of the world in recent times:
First, we'll deal with a troubling topic, an ongoing concern for our sniffly, sneezy, stuffy-headed dwarf called Riley. You see, the poor dear seems to have inherited--much to his detriment--my own tendencies toward an allergy-like...yet not technically allergic nose. The medical term is actually "non-allergic vasomotor rhinitis", which is a fancy-schmancy physician way of saying "your nasal passages overreact to the presence of A-N-Y stinkin' allergen, even though you haven't tested positive for it." In practical application, it means that in the Spring and Fall, when polleny, moldy, leafy stuff is swirling throughout the air, we suffer. Additionally, since we're not truly "allergic", medications--prescription or OTC--benefit us very little in terms of either controlling the triggering mechanism or managing the symptoms. All-in-all, it's a freakin' delightful situation, lemme tell ya.
However...I finally stumbled upon a mystical, magical cure a few years ago...one which involves shooting a homeopathic nasal spray...containing the red-pepper compound capsaicin...up my nostrils twice a day. (That's right, the burny-stuff that gives heat to jalapenos and such...I didn't say it made sense, did I? A clear example of desperation leading one to do odd things...) The product brochure claims that with regular use over time, it will decrease your nose's sensitivity to irritants. And whaddya know? After using it for a while, I was able to stop relying on any kind of pharmaceutical product whatsoever, and my sinuses have been much better ever since. Of course, all of this is a prelude to Riley's story. In short, we went through the same process with him, testing every possible kind of steroid, antihistamine, and decongestant we could get into him, in an attempt to make him more comfortable...to no avail. Yet I hesitated--even knowing how effective it had been for me--to squirt my child with pepper spray. Until we'd had absolutely enough, and we felt we had no other options left. I was expecting a huuuuuge argument, but I guess he was as fed up as I was, because he offered nary a protest. And....most miraculous wonder of wonders, it seems to be working! Now all we need is to make commercials for the company...and negotiate our payment in the form of a "Free Lifetime Supply", and we'll be all set!
So, that was what I'd call a "win". But from time to time as a parent, you find that you just can't get everything right...for instance when it comes to appropriately dressing your beloved children. Let me explain: you might recall me mentioning that Derek (bless his little pea pickin' heart) grew about 7 inches last year, and gained over 20 pounds. Terrific, right? Just what a healthy teenage boy should be doing at about this stage. BUT, that meant that he obviously grew out of his long pants by late-Winter. And at the rate he was shooting skyward (I swear it was like Alice in Wonderland after she chugged the wee vial of potion...and swelled to fill up the entire house...yeah, it was like that exactly...) and the fact that we were nearing what the boys consider "mandatory shorts season", I refused to purchase any new pairs. And that was fine--as Spring ensued, then Summer...but here we are merrily racing toward Autumn...and suddenly the overnight temperatures plummeted this week. I suspected Derek was becoming a tad...concerned...when he wandered over to check the calendar, then glanced at the date on my Kohl's coupon, and inquired, "We're going shopping this weekend, right?" (From the boy who detests setting foot in a clothing store, this was a gigantic clue...) Then today he remarked, "It's a good thing we're going to buy pants soon...since it was 43 degrees when I walked to the bus stop this morning!" Okay, okay, I get it! Mom's neglecting your needs...for warm legs...or something. Two more days, buddy, hang in there! (Yeah, I'm not winning Mother of the Week Award anytime soon, am I? Oh well...)
Now, another scenario I like to think of as a positive development. After years of packing the kids' lunches every day--and disliking the chore, but lagging in making the Executive Decision to turn it over to my minions, I mean "children"--I finally cut the cord and delegated the job. Honestly, part of the problem was that I anticipated having to nag them, or supervise them, or in some way make the process more of a pain than it was worth...but it's been a surprisingly smooth and happy transition. I mean, they've watched me do it for EVER, and they seriously take almost the same thing every day anyway, with minor variations, so how difficult could it be? Well, having said that, I haven't actually looked at what they put in...I've just been trusting them to do it properly...and keeping my fingers crossed. But I had a moment of motherly pride the other day when Riley earnestly asked me, "Can I take raisins...and applesauce?" Why yes, yes you can, sweetie. So I suppose I can rest assured that much of the healthy haranguing--I mean "nutritional education" has sunken in sufficiently. Whew! (At least until they go to college and live on root beer and pizza...which will no longer be my problem!)
To finish us out, I present the tale of a semi-battle...that came out all right in the end. I had been noticing since, oh, around June, that Derek had been spending large quantities of time with his earbuds in, and his iPod on. This in itself didn't necessarily denote a problem...until I realized he wasn't listening to music, but rather playing games. What really bugged me about it was that this is the kid who used to have his face buried in a BOOK all the time, and it suddenly struck me he'd entirely replaced reading with virtual diversions. Uh-uh. Over the non-school months, of course, things are a little less structured and rule-driven. He did have to read two books for his Summer Packet, which he completed with no fuss whatsoever. But when the new academic year started, he reverted immediately back to electronic dependency. So I stepped in and gently suggested ("dictated") that he find a good story, instead. The backlash was instant and fierce, "But there's nothing I want to read!" I quickly retorted that we had no fewer than five brand-new novels he hadn't yet touched (most of which were on his own bookshelves, by the way). That shut him up for a moment...and got him to select one to (mildly grumpily) begin perusing. The next day after school, however, he enthusiastically reported that he was enjoying it quite a bit, and proceeded to provide--unprompted--a detailed synopsis for me of what he'd gotten through so far. So, there's hope for him yet...even if I have to go all Mean Mommy on him once in a while!
And there you have it. At the end of the day (or week, or...whatever) you just knock on wood and hope the balance weighs a bit more in favor of "good influence" or "goals met". (Or at the very least "not having gone off the deep end...yet...yay, me!") Then you follow up by celebrating the good stuff, putting the bad firmly behind you, reminding yourself that you're doing the best. you can..and (perhaps most importantly, don't forget this one!) bestowing a well-deserved reward--coffee, chocolate, pumpkin muffin...a nap...(all of the above) whatever it takes to survive challenging experiences like allergy season, the stresses of the school year...and a shopping trip with my sons! (Yeah, better make it espresso...and an extra-large muffin!)
First, we'll deal with a troubling topic, an ongoing concern for our sniffly, sneezy, stuffy-headed dwarf called Riley. You see, the poor dear seems to have inherited--much to his detriment--my own tendencies toward an allergy-like...yet not technically allergic nose. The medical term is actually "non-allergic vasomotor rhinitis", which is a fancy-schmancy physician way of saying "your nasal passages overreact to the presence of A-N-Y stinkin' allergen, even though you haven't tested positive for it." In practical application, it means that in the Spring and Fall, when polleny, moldy, leafy stuff is swirling throughout the air, we suffer. Additionally, since we're not truly "allergic", medications--prescription or OTC--benefit us very little in terms of either controlling the triggering mechanism or managing the symptoms. All-in-all, it's a freakin' delightful situation, lemme tell ya.
However...I finally stumbled upon a mystical, magical cure a few years ago...one which involves shooting a homeopathic nasal spray...containing the red-pepper compound capsaicin...up my nostrils twice a day. (That's right, the burny-stuff that gives heat to jalapenos and such...I didn't say it made sense, did I? A clear example of desperation leading one to do odd things...) The product brochure claims that with regular use over time, it will decrease your nose's sensitivity to irritants. And whaddya know? After using it for a while, I was able to stop relying on any kind of pharmaceutical product whatsoever, and my sinuses have been much better ever since. Of course, all of this is a prelude to Riley's story. In short, we went through the same process with him, testing every possible kind of steroid, antihistamine, and decongestant we could get into him, in an attempt to make him more comfortable...to no avail. Yet I hesitated--even knowing how effective it had been for me--to squirt my child with pepper spray. Until we'd had absolutely enough, and we felt we had no other options left. I was expecting a huuuuuge argument, but I guess he was as fed up as I was, because he offered nary a protest. And....most miraculous wonder of wonders, it seems to be working! Now all we need is to make commercials for the company...and negotiate our payment in the form of a "Free Lifetime Supply", and we'll be all set!
So, that was what I'd call a "win". But from time to time as a parent, you find that you just can't get everything right...for instance when it comes to appropriately dressing your beloved children. Let me explain: you might recall me mentioning that Derek (bless his little pea pickin' heart) grew about 7 inches last year, and gained over 20 pounds. Terrific, right? Just what a healthy teenage boy should be doing at about this stage. BUT, that meant that he obviously grew out of his long pants by late-Winter. And at the rate he was shooting skyward (I swear it was like Alice in Wonderland after she chugged the wee vial of potion...and swelled to fill up the entire house...yeah, it was like that exactly...) and the fact that we were nearing what the boys consider "mandatory shorts season", I refused to purchase any new pairs. And that was fine--as Spring ensued, then Summer...but here we are merrily racing toward Autumn...and suddenly the overnight temperatures plummeted this week. I suspected Derek was becoming a tad...concerned...when he wandered over to check the calendar, then glanced at the date on my Kohl's coupon, and inquired, "We're going shopping this weekend, right?" (From the boy who detests setting foot in a clothing store, this was a gigantic clue...) Then today he remarked, "It's a good thing we're going to buy pants soon...since it was 43 degrees when I walked to the bus stop this morning!" Okay, okay, I get it! Mom's neglecting your needs...for warm legs...or something. Two more days, buddy, hang in there! (Yeah, I'm not winning Mother of the Week Award anytime soon, am I? Oh well...)
Now, another scenario I like to think of as a positive development. After years of packing the kids' lunches every day--and disliking the chore, but lagging in making the Executive Decision to turn it over to my minions, I mean "children"--I finally cut the cord and delegated the job. Honestly, part of the problem was that I anticipated having to nag them, or supervise them, or in some way make the process more of a pain than it was worth...but it's been a surprisingly smooth and happy transition. I mean, they've watched me do it for EVER, and they seriously take almost the same thing every day anyway, with minor variations, so how difficult could it be? Well, having said that, I haven't actually looked at what they put in...I've just been trusting them to do it properly...and keeping my fingers crossed. But I had a moment of motherly pride the other day when Riley earnestly asked me, "Can I take raisins...and applesauce?" Why yes, yes you can, sweetie. So I suppose I can rest assured that much of the healthy haranguing--I mean "nutritional education" has sunken in sufficiently. Whew! (At least until they go to college and live on root beer and pizza...which will no longer be my problem!)
To finish us out, I present the tale of a semi-battle...that came out all right in the end. I had been noticing since, oh, around June, that Derek had been spending large quantities of time with his earbuds in, and his iPod on. This in itself didn't necessarily denote a problem...until I realized he wasn't listening to music, but rather playing games. What really bugged me about it was that this is the kid who used to have his face buried in a BOOK all the time, and it suddenly struck me he'd entirely replaced reading with virtual diversions. Uh-uh. Over the non-school months, of course, things are a little less structured and rule-driven. He did have to read two books for his Summer Packet, which he completed with no fuss whatsoever. But when the new academic year started, he reverted immediately back to electronic dependency. So I stepped in and gently suggested ("dictated") that he find a good story, instead. The backlash was instant and fierce, "But there's nothing I want to read!" I quickly retorted that we had no fewer than five brand-new novels he hadn't yet touched (most of which were on his own bookshelves, by the way). That shut him up for a moment...and got him to select one to (mildly grumpily) begin perusing. The next day after school, however, he enthusiastically reported that he was enjoying it quite a bit, and proceeded to provide--unprompted--a detailed synopsis for me of what he'd gotten through so far. So, there's hope for him yet...even if I have to go all Mean Mommy on him once in a while!
And there you have it. At the end of the day (or week, or...whatever) you just knock on wood and hope the balance weighs a bit more in favor of "good influence" or "goals met". (Or at the very least "not having gone off the deep end...yet...yay, me!") Then you follow up by celebrating the good stuff, putting the bad firmly behind you, reminding yourself that you're doing the best. you can..and (perhaps most importantly, don't forget this one!) bestowing a well-deserved reward--coffee, chocolate, pumpkin muffin...a nap...(all of the above) whatever it takes to survive challenging experiences like allergy season, the stresses of the school year...and a shopping trip with my sons! (Yeah, better make it espresso...and an extra-large muffin!)
Friday, September 13, 2013
The Weekly Roundup...
The most noteworthy events of this week—besides the official
end of the Home Phone Era (Pause: yaaaayyy! Resume…)—happen to involve Riley.
First we made a momentous trip to the Orthodontist for the “Conclusion of Phase
One” appointment. Sounds quite technical and serious, right? It boiled down to
the doctor removing Riley’s brackets and wire from his (now straight) upper teeth, and
instructing him in the proper use and care of his (rainbow colored, per his choice)
retainer. While this was certainly cause for celebration, Dr. E reminded him
that he will still need to negotiate Phase Two, which will feature hardware on
both the upper and lower chompers. But that’s not gonna happen for a while, so for
now he’s just content to appreciate the smooth, even contours of his smile…and
the lack of eating complications, caused by food shrapnel constantly getting stuck in the nooks and
crannies of the metal minefield. And of course he will now be responsible for both
wearing the retainer to hold things in their pleasing configuration, and keeping
track of it at mealtimes. More immediately, he had to get used to talking with
a new hunk of plastic resting against the roof of his mouth…which led to a
temporary lisp…and diction that resembled someone speaking with a mouthful of
mashed potatoes…and a disturbing array of slurping noises, due to the
over-production of saliva as his system adjusts to the “intruder”. (I’m afraid
not too many people will understand this reference, but to me he sounded like a
Sleestak for a few days…thankfully, all of this has passed…)
Apparently these minor irritations did nothing to dampen his
confidence, however, as evidenced by the following conversational exchange that
transpired one day after school:
Riley: (out of
nowhere, completely nonchalantly) “Today I was thinking about asking out a girl
at recess, because I had nothing else to do.”
Me: (silent, staring, utterly startled…)
Riley: (continuing casually) “I wanted to wait until I saw a
girl alone…”
(Here he paused thoughtfully, and I nodded encouragingly,
thinking to myself “Of course, honey, that makes perfect sense!” Which segued instantly
into “Wait, why do you even need to talk to girls at ALL? Stick with your buds!”
None of this made it out of my mouth, thank goodness….)
Riley: (with an aura of newfound wisdom) “But then I
realized, girls are always standing together.”
(Ha! So, sooooo true, my dear!
Congratulations, you’ve learned the Female Pack Principle. Someday, when I
think you’re ready, I’ll tell you about the Bathroom Bonding Ritual and the
secret that may at some future point absolutely change
a relationship for you: the Chocolate Cures Everything Credo…)
Me: (maintaining a tone of interest, but trying not to sound
too…inquisitorial) “Hmm, who did you want to ask out?”
Riley: (With his face slightly pinkening, his eyes downcast,
his lips curved into a sly grin) “No one…”
Me: (In my head: “Oh, I see, so that’s how you wanna play
this. But you forget, young one, that I have become quite adept at certain
techniques with your older sibling…call it badgering, I mean browbeating, I
mean “questioning in a delicate yet productive manner”…) So I decided to go with
the non-threatening, “Would I know her?”
Riley: “Eh, probably not.”
Me: “Oh.” (RATS!!!)
There’s where we left it, as he moseyed off to play outside…and
I was remained behind to contemplate the Little Brothers Who Grow Up Too Fast Phenomenon.
(And also to feel profoundly grateful that he remains my girlfriendless baby for at least
another day!)
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Jenny, don't change your number (or wait, on second thought, DO!)
Husband and I have recently been involved in some serious,
complex discussions, regarding whether to make (yet another) update to our
household. (Don’t worry, non-catastrophic, I promise!) This particular subject
had come up before as an option, but we weren’t sure we were ready to take the
step. Now, however, I think we’re prepared to just go ahead and do it. I’m
talking about stepping off the (proverbial, fortunately) ledge to drop fully
into the 21st century…by finally cancelling our landline… and going
all-mobile, baby. (Yeah, yeah--I know we’re 13 years late…but just remember, “those
who evolve gradually, carefully, and methodically in the Digital Age…avoid being
gobbled up by cyber-predators”? Or some such nonsense…)
If you could stop laughing long enough, I’ll explain.
(No, really, get a grip. Are you done? Good…) You see, Husband and I grew up
with telephones (brace yourself...) mounted on the wall. With the receiver attached to a
cord. (Sooo…primitive, right?! I also carried coins to use in a payphone
in an emergency…it was practically
medieval, I tell ya…) No such thing as “text me” or “call when you’re on the way”. You had your “home number” and your “work number”, either of which could
only be answered when you were physically there to pick up. And, although we
both have been using cell phones for some time now, there’s something...familiar…about
the process of dialing someone’s house, and leaving a voice message if they don’t
answer. Similarly, for me, it’s second nature to glance down and to the right each
time I enter the house, to visually check if the light is blinking on the
answering machine. Maybe I enjoy the sense of tangibility this routine lends to
the communication event…or I could merely be clinging to what I’ve always done
in the past. (But I can change! I refuse to be...an anti-technology dinosaur!
After all, cell phones have blinking alerts, too…and you can even change the
colors! And there are icons on the screen to let you know what you missed…Hmm,
I’m beginning to see some advantages, here…)
Then there’s a sort of personal glitch: a part of me has
resisted letting go of the “old ways” for the simple reason that I don’t WANT
to be accessible 24-7. Perhaps it’s my age, but I’ve never gotten comfortable
conducting my conversations in public where the mass of humanity can overhear
them. I’m not that lady walking through the grocery store making weekend plans
while simultaneously searching for a nice, ripe cantaloupe. Or (heaven forbid,
and I am speaking from experience, here) making a doctor’s appointment while in
the bathroom at Kohl’s. (Ewwww, right? Does anyone think that’s okay? Reaaalllly???)
Honestly, I don’t even believe I could effectively get my stuff done if my
attention were divided that way. So even if my phone does ring while I’m out and
about, rest assured I’m not going to answer it until I’m somewhere more private
and can keep the details of my life—however pedestrian they may be--to myself.
But…when Husband and I began considering this radical move
and analyzing the situation, we realized several things. The most blatantly
obvious was: we’re paying each month to maintain a landline…for no good reason.
I mean, we each have our own cell phone (heck, even Derek has one, now). We can
easily be reached by email. And (probably the final factor that pushed us over
the edge) most of the contact we receive on our home number is…robo-sales-calls,
organizations requesting donations, and political propaganda. (And who needs them, anyway? Good riddance, I say! I'm such a rebel...)
Obviously we’ll have to inform the Very Important People in our little universe when the Big Switch happens—this would mean schools, work, health care providers, family and friends…but
after all of the going-around-in-circles about the issue and struggling to decide,
I suspect it’s actually going to be somewhat anti-climactic. Basically…we’ll
have to get used to the absence of a flashing red light by the kitchen door. (Whoop-de-doo,
right?) And we’ll have fewer junk calls to deflect or ignore…at least until the
salespeople, charitable foundations, and government find us again, that is! (Shhhh!
Help us out by guarding these precious numbers with your very lives! Now please
excuse me while I go check for messages…texts...emails....etc...)
Friday, September 6, 2013
Beginning to ponder...the End...
With Summer coming to a close--at least in terms of "hiatus from our day jobs"--and the new school year commencing, I've had the topic of "beginnings and endings" swirling around my brain quite a bit lately. It started out related more or less to scheduling, when my semester of work kicked off and the boys jumped back into their daily academic routines. You know the thought process I'm talking about: "Uh-oh, beware the end of the R&R...and the beginning of the craziness" (Sigh...) One thing that was a little weird for me to contemplate is that this is Riley's final year in Elementary School, while Derek is finishing up Middle School. (Obviously, this wasn't too much of a surprise, since I had seen it coming...since forever. Nope, can't put anything past me!) But once I caught my breath for a moment (yeah, the kids must have already been gone for the day) it occurred to me that with our decision to uproot ourselves and re-plant in California in 2014, Team WestEnders will experience a whole plethora of beginnings and endings in the upcoming months.
In fact, the first such shock hit me when I realized that we just completed our last full Summer in Olney. Directly on the heels of that revelation, I recognized that this will be my last Fall semester at my current job. And speaking of Fall...the colorful season we're used to in the Mid-Atlantic region looks different on the Pacific Coast, I'm told. Therefore I plan to spend extra time admiring the trees, as the leaves change and then drift down to blanket the ground. (Although, Memo to Me: I will NOT miss raking those suckers...) Then there are certain occasions--special parts of our Family Traditions--that we just won't be able to participate in from afar. These range from the annual September Picnic/October Soiree/New Year's Bash/March Madness Fest hosted by various friends, to Thanksgiving and Christmas at my parents' house, to our own Holiday Shindig that we've been throwing for...well, let's just say "a boatload of years" and leave it at that. However, since I headed in that direction, If I'm being completely honest, I will so very much not in a million years never EVER miss...snow. (Or sleet. Pretty much any kind of freezing precipitation....or sub-zero temperatures...or numb hands and feet...Oh, you get the idea...)
And then there are the things that will constitute brand-new-to-me events. Such as (silly though it may seem) actually residing in a state other than Maryland (unless you count a brief stint in our nation's capital during graduate school...and I don't...) I've lived in different cities before our current one--Beltsville, Monrovia, Baltimore, Greenbelt, Silver Spring, Bethesda--just never across the border in one of our neighboring jurisdictions. (And as I always say, "If you're gonna go, go B-I-G!" Okay, okay, I've never said that before this moment...but it just might be my new motto....) On a related note, I'm ridiculously amused by the fact that I will have a non-Maryland driver's license for the first time in my decades behind the wheel...and new tags for the car. (Yes, I'm easily pleased. So what?) Of course, the lurking bugaboo behind all of this frivolity is that we will also have to (gulp) pack up a houseful of stuff. (Currently, I'm opting to blissfully drift in a cloud of Denial about this, convincing myself "pshaw, it'll be a breeze". After all, I'm an obsessive organizer/cleaner...outer...and "we don't have that much to worry about, anyway!" Yeah, we'll see how it goes...) Not to mention the whole "selling a home" issue, which Husband and I have never yet had to undertake. (I know, I know, "baby steps"...oh yeah, and let's not get ahead of ourselves!)
So the bottom line is, now that my conscious brain has gotten a wake-up call, regarding the limited amount of time remaining to us on the East Coast, I'm determined to notice and enjoy and appreciate every precious hour and every tiny detail of my loved ones, my friends, and my surroundings. The memories we continue to make during this year will be carefully tucked away, and considered some of our most cherished belongings, to bring with us as we travel west on our next adventure. Beginnings and ending...firsts and lasts...here's to a year full of priceless ones to share.
In fact, the first such shock hit me when I realized that we just completed our last full Summer in Olney. Directly on the heels of that revelation, I recognized that this will be my last Fall semester at my current job. And speaking of Fall...the colorful season we're used to in the Mid-Atlantic region looks different on the Pacific Coast, I'm told. Therefore I plan to spend extra time admiring the trees, as the leaves change and then drift down to blanket the ground. (Although, Memo to Me: I will NOT miss raking those suckers...) Then there are certain occasions--special parts of our Family Traditions--that we just won't be able to participate in from afar. These range from the annual September Picnic/October Soiree/New Year's Bash/March Madness Fest hosted by various friends, to Thanksgiving and Christmas at my parents' house, to our own Holiday Shindig that we've been throwing for...well, let's just say "a boatload of years" and leave it at that. However, since I headed in that direction, If I'm being completely honest, I will so very much not in a million years never EVER miss...snow. (Or sleet. Pretty much any kind of freezing precipitation....or sub-zero temperatures...or numb hands and feet...Oh, you get the idea...)
And then there are the things that will constitute brand-new-to-me events. Such as (silly though it may seem) actually residing in a state other than Maryland (unless you count a brief stint in our nation's capital during graduate school...and I don't...) I've lived in different cities before our current one--Beltsville, Monrovia, Baltimore, Greenbelt, Silver Spring, Bethesda--just never across the border in one of our neighboring jurisdictions. (And as I always say, "If you're gonna go, go B-I-G!" Okay, okay, I've never said that before this moment...but it just might be my new motto....) On a related note, I'm ridiculously amused by the fact that I will have a non-Maryland driver's license for the first time in my decades behind the wheel...and new tags for the car. (Yes, I'm easily pleased. So what?) Of course, the lurking bugaboo behind all of this frivolity is that we will also have to (gulp) pack up a houseful of stuff. (Currently, I'm opting to blissfully drift in a cloud of Denial about this, convincing myself "pshaw, it'll be a breeze". After all, I'm an obsessive organizer/cleaner...outer...and "we don't have that much to worry about, anyway!" Yeah, we'll see how it goes...) Not to mention the whole "selling a home" issue, which Husband and I have never yet had to undertake. (I know, I know, "baby steps"...oh yeah, and let's not get ahead of ourselves!)
So the bottom line is, now that my conscious brain has gotten a wake-up call, regarding the limited amount of time remaining to us on the East Coast, I'm determined to notice and enjoy and appreciate every precious hour and every tiny detail of my loved ones, my friends, and my surroundings. The memories we continue to make during this year will be carefully tucked away, and considered some of our most cherished belongings, to bring with us as we travel west on our next adventure. Beginnings and ending...firsts and lasts...here's to a year full of priceless ones to share.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Hoping to Clear the Air (literally!)
Today's tale is all about a mother reaching her breaking point. Having endured absolutely as much as she can handle, and throwing her hands up in surrender. Being forced to finally admit defeat in an epic battle between herself, and something much, much bigger than she. I'm talking about that most heinous of foes, that insidious...attacker of nasal passages...that's right: Male Body Odor.
You see, we've been struggling for a while now with the indisputable fact that my younger son (how shall I phrase this...) demonstrates a tendency to exude a bit of a..."gamy essence" when he returns from playing outside. (You know what I'm talking about, that certain..."eau de wild animal"...) And I do realize that as the only female in the house, I very likely possess the most highly-tuned (and easily insulted) olfactory sense in the family. But still...trust me when I say it's powerful...like "whack-you-in-the-nose-overwhelming". It had gotten to the point that the first words out of my mouth upon greeting his re-entry had become, "Go change your shirt and re-deodorize, buddy!" (Incidentally, "re-deodorize" is now a standard WestEnders verb. Feel free to apply as necessary...)
Now, in my ongoing attempts to live as chemical-free as possible, I had purchased natural underarm products for both sons, quite some time ago. (Which they seize every possible opportunity to ridicule, but whatever, Skin Safety First, that's my motto...since I just this minute thought of it, anyway...) Derek dutifully smears on his Tom's Mountain Spring every day, and it totally works for him, keeping him fresh and inoffensive. (And really, what more can you ask from your "pit junk"? [Which is Husband's colorful nomenclature, also in the Family Dictionary]) Thus I bought a similar item for Riley, thinking it would be equally as effective. Ha! For whatever reason--varying body chemistry, different hormones currently floating around, who knows--the exact same substance does absolutely nothing for my 10-year old. So of course the next step was to try another organic brand, to see if we could get this little...personal problem...under control. And the verdict: N-O-P-E, not even a little bit.
Therefore, I was faced with a true dilemma: how to satisfy my desire to eschew potentially harmful, not-from-the-earth ingredients, while also protecting the environment and its inhabitants from...a rather potent form of..."air pollution"? I pondered this very question for a few weeks, examining my options and considering every angle that occurred to me. In the end, I reached the conclusion that every other (non-environmentally-obsessed person) surely jumped to immediately: the benefits of utilizing modern technology in this case far outweigh the drawbacks. Especially since--if I'm being completely rational, here--the children would probably need to actually ingest the item...in large quantities, mind you...to cause themselves any real damage. And even taking into account the adolescent proclivity for making iffy choices, I trust them at least NOT to do this. I mean, how much risk, exactly, can one expect from wiping a commercially-available, mass-marketed gel in one's underarm region? (On second thought, maybe we don't want to explore that too deeply...moving on...)
That's how I found myself in the personal care aisle at Rite Aid, determined to perform field-research on the topic, until I managed to locate something...acceptably...medium-natural. (Yes, I'm the crazy lady standing there for 20 minutes, picking up tubes, scanning labels, replacing them disgustedly to the shelf, and muttering under her breath about the obnoxious list of unpronounceable scientist-created compounds...sigh...) I know you're waiting with bated breath (and not just because of the smell-ha!) for me to reveal the Big Winner, so without further ado, here it is: Dove for Men, in Clean Comfort scent (whatever the heck that means).
HOWEVER, I also came away with quite an education in Male Hygiene, which I shared with my household when I had finished my successful mission. Remember I mentioned how Derek gives me as much grief as humanly possible for having to patronize our good buddy Tom, against his wishes. And just what, you may wonder, would he prefer, given the liberty to make his own selection? The short answer: basically, whatever he sees on TV, whose commercial makes him chuckle. That means he's been pushing for (wait for it) OLD SPICE. Are. You. Kidding. Me? In my recollection, Old Spice was something "men of a certain age" would wear...in copious amounts...meaning that I remember it as an extremely pungent, somewhat grandfatherly aroma. Apparently, though, they're working very hard to change their image over there at...whoever makes the stuff...because they now have names like Game Day and Pure Sport. Okay, I understand those, so far so good. But then you move down the row and encounter Komodo ("exotic winds and spicy freedom"...not making this up...) What the WHAT? I don't even know what to make of that. Unless you're near a landfill or a cattle farm, wind shouldn't even have a noticeable smell. (And "freedom"? Don't get me started on how that's supposed to register with one's schnoz...)
Derek, not at all surprisingly, was incensed (ha! sorry...) that I'd broken my solemn vow and bought "real deodorant" for Riley. (He laid on the "you like him better" speech pretty thick, but it's soooo difficult to take him the slightest bit seriously when he delivers this in his signature humorous/sarcastic tone, with an ear-to-ear grin...) But I assured him that that wasn't the worst, believe it or not. When relaying my drugstore saga to the male persons, I made a new promise that I fully intend to keep, no matter what: I will never, EVER buy a variety of Old Spice called...Wolf Thorn, whose cap boldly states "For Nocturnal Creatures". Oh. Heck. No. My boys (all 3 of them) crowed with delight even while they were formulating arguments as to why this particular product would be nothing but pure AWESOME. The discussion ended when Husband exclaimed, "C'mon, it sounds like it's made with wolf pee! It must be natural!" Actually, they might have continued excitedly discussing amongst themselves after that, but I wouldn't know, since I'd rolled my eyes and vacated the room by that point. (Having determined this entire fiasco now fell firmly in the category of Fights You Can't Win...)
The good news to all this silliness is, Husband declares that he remembers a time, just before Derek hit his growth-spurt-era, when our older child, too, had some "issues" of this kind. I myself don't quite recall, probably because I've blocked it out in defense, but I'm willing to take his word for it. Hopefully we can thus file it under "this, too, shall pass?" For now, my fingers remain crossed...and my nose, guarded!
You see, we've been struggling for a while now with the indisputable fact that my younger son (how shall I phrase this...) demonstrates a tendency to exude a bit of a..."gamy essence" when he returns from playing outside. (You know what I'm talking about, that certain..."eau de wild animal"...) And I do realize that as the only female in the house, I very likely possess the most highly-tuned (and easily insulted) olfactory sense in the family. But still...trust me when I say it's powerful...like "whack-you-in-the-nose-overwhelming". It had gotten to the point that the first words out of my mouth upon greeting his re-entry had become, "Go change your shirt and re-deodorize, buddy!" (Incidentally, "re-deodorize" is now a standard WestEnders verb. Feel free to apply as necessary...)
Now, in my ongoing attempts to live as chemical-free as possible, I had purchased natural underarm products for both sons, quite some time ago. (Which they seize every possible opportunity to ridicule, but whatever, Skin Safety First, that's my motto...since I just this minute thought of it, anyway...) Derek dutifully smears on his Tom's Mountain Spring every day, and it totally works for him, keeping him fresh and inoffensive. (And really, what more can you ask from your "pit junk"? [Which is Husband's colorful nomenclature, also in the Family Dictionary]) Thus I bought a similar item for Riley, thinking it would be equally as effective. Ha! For whatever reason--varying body chemistry, different hormones currently floating around, who knows--the exact same substance does absolutely nothing for my 10-year old. So of course the next step was to try another organic brand, to see if we could get this little...personal problem...under control. And the verdict: N-O-P-E, not even a little bit.
Therefore, I was faced with a true dilemma: how to satisfy my desire to eschew potentially harmful, not-from-the-earth ingredients, while also protecting the environment and its inhabitants from...a rather potent form of..."air pollution"? I pondered this very question for a few weeks, examining my options and considering every angle that occurred to me. In the end, I reached the conclusion that every other (non-environmentally-obsessed person) surely jumped to immediately: the benefits of utilizing modern technology in this case far outweigh the drawbacks. Especially since--if I'm being completely rational, here--the children would probably need to actually ingest the item...in large quantities, mind you...to cause themselves any real damage. And even taking into account the adolescent proclivity for making iffy choices, I trust them at least NOT to do this. I mean, how much risk, exactly, can one expect from wiping a commercially-available, mass-marketed gel in one's underarm region? (On second thought, maybe we don't want to explore that too deeply...moving on...)
That's how I found myself in the personal care aisle at Rite Aid, determined to perform field-research on the topic, until I managed to locate something...acceptably...medium-natural. (Yes, I'm the crazy lady standing there for 20 minutes, picking up tubes, scanning labels, replacing them disgustedly to the shelf, and muttering under her breath about the obnoxious list of unpronounceable scientist-created compounds...sigh...) I know you're waiting with bated breath (and not just because of the smell-ha!) for me to reveal the Big Winner, so without further ado, here it is: Dove for Men, in Clean Comfort scent (whatever the heck that means).
HOWEVER, I also came away with quite an education in Male Hygiene, which I shared with my household when I had finished my successful mission. Remember I mentioned how Derek gives me as much grief as humanly possible for having to patronize our good buddy Tom, against his wishes. And just what, you may wonder, would he prefer, given the liberty to make his own selection? The short answer: basically, whatever he sees on TV, whose commercial makes him chuckle. That means he's been pushing for (wait for it) OLD SPICE. Are. You. Kidding. Me? In my recollection, Old Spice was something "men of a certain age" would wear...in copious amounts...meaning that I remember it as an extremely pungent, somewhat grandfatherly aroma. Apparently, though, they're working very hard to change their image over there at...whoever makes the stuff...because they now have names like Game Day and Pure Sport. Okay, I understand those, so far so good. But then you move down the row and encounter Komodo ("exotic winds and spicy freedom"...not making this up...) What the WHAT? I don't even know what to make of that. Unless you're near a landfill or a cattle farm, wind shouldn't even have a noticeable smell. (And "freedom"? Don't get me started on how that's supposed to register with one's schnoz...)
Derek, not at all surprisingly, was incensed (ha! sorry...) that I'd broken my solemn vow and bought "real deodorant" for Riley. (He laid on the "you like him better" speech pretty thick, but it's soooo difficult to take him the slightest bit seriously when he delivers this in his signature humorous/sarcastic tone, with an ear-to-ear grin...) But I assured him that that wasn't the worst, believe it or not. When relaying my drugstore saga to the male persons, I made a new promise that I fully intend to keep, no matter what: I will never, EVER buy a variety of Old Spice called...Wolf Thorn, whose cap boldly states "For Nocturnal Creatures". Oh. Heck. No. My boys (all 3 of them) crowed with delight even while they were formulating arguments as to why this particular product would be nothing but pure AWESOME. The discussion ended when Husband exclaimed, "C'mon, it sounds like it's made with wolf pee! It must be natural!" Actually, they might have continued excitedly discussing amongst themselves after that, but I wouldn't know, since I'd rolled my eyes and vacated the room by that point. (Having determined this entire fiasco now fell firmly in the category of Fights You Can't Win...)
The good news to all this silliness is, Husband declares that he remembers a time, just before Derek hit his growth-spurt-era, when our older child, too, had some "issues" of this kind. I myself don't quite recall, probably because I've blocked it out in defense, but I'm willing to take his word for it. Hopefully we can thus file it under "this, too, shall pass?" For now, my fingers remain crossed...and my nose, guarded!
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