2009 July

Archeology

July 27, 2009 By 17 Comments

Well Read Hostess – 2
Closets – 0

But it was tense there for a while.

If someone could explain to me what freak mental compulsion requires that I take the tiny bottles of shampoo from hotel rooms every single time, I’d be grateful.

A partial list of findings on this excavation:

tiny shampoo, conditioner, lotion bottles…see above cry for help

bandaids circa 1973

curlers

hot rollers

curling iron

thing from hair dryer that was about three hair dryers ago - hair dryers have a tendency to blow up on me, which is even more ridiculous than the fact that I have three separate hair-curling apparatuses in my closet because at most I blow dry my hair after a shower and during the summer that happens maybe four times…if I’m going to any weddings, otherwise, not.

four empty boxes of Gas-ex…probably more information than you needed

six bottles of children’s Motrin - three of them full and unopened, which begs the question: What the hell is wrong with me?

one broken vacuum cleaner

one carpet sweeper from the 1952 which was here when we moved in; we used it once, said, “Wow! This is so great!” and never used it again…want it?

approximately ninety-three grungy towels – bath, hand, face

two broken cameras – not exactly Kodak Brownies, but CLOSE

one Polaroid camera

one box from the digital camera that TWGH lost, in a moment of slightly less world’s greatness, somewhere along I-95 North, possibly in Sturbridge, Mass.

eleventy billion and six firewires, ac adapters, and power cords that are a) tangled and b)obviously superfluous or else why would they be in the closet and yet I am unable to throw them away, because we all know that the moment I do, I’ll need one

four mateless mittens

a Webkinz code, which I was unable to hide before I got into the trash – ARGHGH, when will these effing anthropomorphized digitized critters stop trying to teach my kids how to shop on credit??!!! Makes me think about taking up hunting – penguins and kitties.

bobby pins – I can’t explain this. I have never used bobby pins in my life. Not once.

my giant, round, tortoiseshell glasses from 1988. Oh. My. God.

*I’m listening to NPR right now reporting about BlogHer and, more specifically, ethics and product reviews. Rest assured, nobody sends me a damn thing, so we’re all ethical up in here. Oh and here it goes…Dooce dooce dooce dooce. YAWN. P.S. I love Lisa Belkin.

Filed Under: Home is Where the Mess Is, WRH

Circle Game

July 25, 2009 By 4 Comments

—Walt Whitman

The friend I love and never get to see because the fates piss on my dreams with shocking regularity (OK, perhaps that’s an overstatement and we’re just busy, but still, it’s too much to hope to run into each other in the Starbucks once in a blue moon?!) wrote me yesterday lamenting the fact that, in her words, she’d been “spending the week packing up the thousands of toys that used to capture the imagination of (her) beloved 12 1/2 year old son, because it’s “not cool” to have them in his playroom.”

She went on to write, “As if that weren’t painful enough for a mother…..during this week he brings down his sheets to be washed because he “just wants to be helpful.” Of course I know the real reason. And when I give him that look, he knows that I know and he actually says “sorry” as if puberty is his fault!

Nobody ever warned me that puberty would be so heartbreaking for a mother!!!

I was sitting on the beach this afternoon thinking about how the forward momentum of her boy’s life had increased in speed and her emotions hadn’t caught up yet. I was also thinking about how lucky I am that I don’t have to think about this specific issue too deeply yet because my kids are younger than hers.

I was feeling a little bad that I didn’t have the right words to reassure her because even though I understand her situation on an intellectual level, emotionally I didn’t really get it . If I’ve learned one thing about parenting and that’s about all I’ve learned about parenting over the last seven years it’s that I can’t possibly understand fully what another parent is experiencing until I’ve gone through the same kind of thing. And I haven’t. My kids aren’t even near puberty, and I only wish they’d let me get rid of some of the stuff in their rooms.

It is true, though, it occurred to me, that her son and my son have always had these developmental and temperamental parallels. Hmmm…Funny.

So this is what was running through my mind while I sat in the sand watching my boy swimming in the ocean and, quite frequently, getting pasted and tossed by the waves, only to pop up shaking his long hair off his face and laughing. He is having so much fun, and I remembered the first time we took him to the beach. He was 8 months old, still nursing, not walking, and was delighted even then by the sea. I was so nervous about him being on the beach – sand in the eyes, sand in the mouth, crawling towards the crashing surf while my head was turned. I was ~~paranoid~~ vigilant.

And there he is now, by himself out there.

Talking to other kids. Making friends on his own.

Swimming. Going under. And that’s OK. I don’t suck in any air or nervously watch the water counting the seconds before he resurfaces.

When he’s newly tumbled by the waves and in a group of kids, it’s even hard to tell which one is him. He sure is getting tall.

The first time he was at the beach he wasn’t walking, and his movements were toddler-jerky. He had that fluffy bit of blond hair. He looks so long-limbed and graceful out there playing in the deep water, his long, curly hair reaching halfway down his back now that’s it wet. My big kid.

Oh.

Wait.

I get it.

Filed Under: Parent of the Year

Everybody go, hotel motel holiday inn

July 23, 2009 By 11 Comments

I’ve created a monster. A two headed monster, to be precise.

Earlier this summer, my children approached me with a proposal. They were so sincere and well-rehearsed that I half-expected them to hit the lights and project a Power Point presentation onto the kitchen wall.

They had a summer vacation request. Just one. Please? Pretty please?

My kids love hotels, especially hotels with indoor pools. They aren’t overly concerned with any amenities beyond that, although they don’t turn up their noses at room service.

So. The proposal. Could we please go stay in a hotel, even for one night, that has an indoor pool?

Tomorrow after swimming lessons, I’m taking them to a Holiday Inn in East Jebip, New Jersey, vaguely near the beach. They don’t care about the beach part; that’s for my benefit, and I’ve already been told in no uncertain terms that if the hotel has late check-out, we might not make it to the beach. See what I mean? About the monster creation thing? My seven year old talks about “late check-out.”

I showed them the hotel website – and they’ve stayed in some pretty decent hotels before, certainly more upscale than the Holiday Inn – and I sort of expected them to be underwhelmed. But no. They saw a picture of the pool, about the size of a postage stamp, and they pronounced it to be PERFECT. Just the right size for them because they, like the pool, are wee. I showed them pictures of rooms at this particular establishment, featuring two queen beds jammed up right next to each other, and they cheered, PERFECT. Just the right size so that they could be right up close to me and to the television while they’re in bed.

The rest of the planning for this adventure went something like this:

“Can we watch cartoons?”

“Yes.”

“Can we fall asleep at night with the tv on?”

“Yes.”

“Can we stay up really late?”

“Yes.”

“Can we get ice from the ice machine?”

“Yes.”

“Can we get soda from the soda machine?”

“Yes.”

“Can we eat whatever we want for breakfast?”

“Yes.”

“Can we take as many showers as we want?”

“Yes.”

“Can we swim in the pool at least three times?”

“Yes.”

“Can we have room service?”

“Er. In a Holiday Inn? Not so much, but I’ll get you take out and you can eat it in the room.”

“Hmmmm….Can we eat it in our pajamas?”

“Yes.”

“PERFECT.”

Merrily off we go. As a family we aren’t very good about splitting up for adventures. But the benefit of such events when they do occur is that they provide the perfect opportunity for the parent on the kid adventure to say “yes” to almost everything. Which is wonderful for everybody. It’s remarkable how little whining and foot dragging there can be when you let your kids eat Snickers bars for breakfast, watch cartoons until their eyes glaze over, and throw their wet towels all over the bathroom floor. I’m exaggerating, a bit, but forgetting the rules and the routines and the schedules and giving it all over to the quest for fun and togetherness is pretty magical.

Thing 2 was worried that she’ll miss her daddy too much to have any of that magical fun, but he assured her that they could write postcards to each other Yes, we are going away for one night so she’s over it. Plus, she saw the weather report and they’re calling for rain at the beach on Friday which means only one thing: more time at the hotel indoor postage stamp pool.

PERFECT.

Filed Under: Parent of the Year, WRH