Christmas O'Clock

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That Moment...

... when you put on your make up and realize your kid used the foundation brush to paint black zebra stripes on something at some point during the weekend.

Ditto the blush brush.

Well, it wasn't like I was pale as a ghost to start with or anything...

the Blogger after a day at the beach

Blue Morning

Alexander from
the Judith Viorst book

My kid woke up in an instant tantrum, and I had a touch of stomach flu. 

Due to the tantrum, Kid missed the bus and I had to drive her to school, yells and all. 

On the way there, I saw that the gas needle was pushing E. 

At that point, I knew I was having a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

I got stuck behind Mr. Slow in traffic, and we reached the school too late to get in the side drop-off entrance. I had to get out of my car and sign her in as late.

The temperature had dropped at least 30 degrees overnight, and I was wearing a light spring jacket. Also, since I had expected to stay INSIDE the car for the drop-off, I was sporting bedroom slippers.

Thanking the good Lord that I had at least changed out of pyjamas, I walked Kid in, signed her in, and got back in the car with a sigh of relief. 

I coasted into the gas station and rolled down the window. The man came to the car, and he was skatting. Skatting! in 20 degree weather!

"How are you, lady?" he asked with a broad smile.

It was infectious. I smiled back. "Just fine," I lied. "And you?"

"Oh, you know, I'm in that moooood!" This was followed by a fine belly laugh and more skats. 

Image courtesy of DocumentaryStorm.com

At that point I began to feel ashamed of myself. Here I was being cranky about stuff that was, in the grand scheme of things, nothing but minutia. And if Gasoline Pump Man could be happy and skatt-ish while he worked outside in freezing weather, I could be happy inside my heated SUV. 

Maybe, I thought, I could salvage the morning. I would play some sweet tunes, have a long cup of tea and a hot shower, and wash the bad start away. 

Filled with these virtuous plans, I paid Happy Skat Man and drove off.....

.... only to realize my kid had left her coat and lunch in the car.

Scars and Coming Home

Remember that scene from Jaws, when Richard Dreyfuss and Robert Shaw start showing off their shark bites? And Roy Scheider looks at his tiny nick and decides not to talk about it after all?

I have two scars on my face that I got when I was five. It was the sixties, and I was riding home with Frankie, my boyfriend at the time. We had a torrid relationship going - I used to wear dress up clothes to show off for him, and in return he gave me a small glass bear. 

As it was the sixties, the ride home was in the back of a huge Rambler Marlin, the kind with a long, sloping window where you could look out of the back. Frankie, his sister, and I all sat there and made faces at the traffic behind us. 

Seat belts? Not at all. We weren't even in seats. We lay on our stomachs and propped our chins in our fists. It was springtime in Arizona and the day was already sweltering, and Frankie's mom, who was driving at the time, had promised us a few runs through the hose.

Life was good, until the mom blew a stop sign. Another car hit us, and there was a short, loud Bang! I looked down and thought, That's strange; my white shirt has red polka dots now. 

I don't remember much after that, beyond a woman's voice, screaming. Kids' head injuries bleed a lot, and I was no exception. 

Image courtesy of adclassix.com

My mother didn't let me ride in Frankie's car any more, and eventually we moved to the east coast.

That incident is immortalized by two scars: one right in the center of my forehead, so I look as though I'm always frowning, and another that bisects my lip. Neither injury was life-threatening, and they were almost worth running through the hose in sweltering Tucson. 

My daughter's own perfect face will one day acquire its own scars. Maybe she'll trip in dance class or bite the pitch in soccer. But she won't get them in the back of a Marlin.

The Best Toy Ever

One of my friends and I are secret toy fiends. We love when Christmas rolls around, because it means we get to go on shopping trips together, looking for the rare Monster High Dolls, the coolest American Girl outfits. We managed to acquire Zhu Zhu pets for the kids back when they were as difficult to find as Cabbage Patch thingamerbobbers in the 80's.

Now I have a big box of Zhu Zhu's in the basement and no idea what to do with them. Zhu Zhu's, in case you never heard of them, are battery-powered hamsters that run around and make weird noises. They have houses and tracks that connect the houses, and you can build a whole city for these things.

My kid was ecstatic when she received them, years ago. For one glorious afternoon she played with them. And after that, she abandoned them, and now they lie in that box, collecting dust. 

I've noticed that is usually the case with battery-powered playthings. In fact, the more batteries involved, the shorter the play-with-life, unless there is a lightbulb included and we're talking EZ Bake.

Perhaps it's different for boys, although I remain skeptical.

This lesson came home to me over the summer, when my daughter's friend invented the COOLEST TOY EVER. It was so much fun that she and my kid, as well as all of their friends, played with it for months. 

Here's what the cool toy was: my kid's friend invented a planet, and her mother donated basement space for world-building. The kids made the houses out of old boxes and the alien inhabitants with cotton balls and swabs. Someone created a dress shop and sold fancy clothes made out of cupcake liners.

image courtesy of mnn.com

Other parents donated boxes and supplies. The houses and stores expanded, and one boy was in hot demand for his building skills. The kids started a message board near the planet, where they would leave notes for each other to create new aliens, to invite the planet dwellers to parties, to ask that boy to build them a new house.

The planet grew to the point where it took over the entire basement, and I had to applaud the mother for allowing it all to continue. Because, without a doubt, it was the coolest game / toy / playdate EVAH. The kids made movies of the aliens and showed them to each other. There were commercials for the cupcake dress shop, as well as reminders to frequent the boy's construction business.

At last the mess was too much. The basement had dissolved into a crafty, glittery, gluey nightmare, and the parents spent several days cleaning it up. But for one summer, the kids had interacted and built and experienced the fun of just being kids, without anything electronic to interfere.

from mylifeandkids.com

I know my kid will always remember that summer when she created a planet with her friends. And I must add a word to all toy makers everywhere - how are you going to compete with that? A doll that talks, a dog that walks, a gun that shoots nerf darts - nothing is better than creating your own world.

Seasonal Stuff

A week ago I brought out my Big Sipper mug and started using it for my morning, lunchtime, afternoon, and evening cups of tea. I love this mug because it is one Big Ass Mug, meaning it holds lots of tea in it so I can keep slurping away. 

I also love it because it looks so seasonal, with it's candy cane handle and cheery red color. In fact, the mug has made me long for seasonal stuff. I want to smell cinnamon and spices. I want peppermint and roast turkey. I'd like snow on the windowsills and a fire in the hearth. I want skiing, long walks with hot chocolate at the end of them, shopping in New Hope, PA in those tiny little gifty boutiques, receiving fat letters in the post and sending huge packages to those who live overseas.

I know that in a few weeks I'll be tired of rolling out cookie dough for hours, so long that my back goes into strike mode. I'll be sick of the mall crowds and the search for that One Toy that everybody wants to get for their kid, including those Modern Scrooge Viruses: grownups who go and buy up the wanted toys and sell them on eBay for premium prices. Shame on them!

(I'm talking to you, Mr. Suit ahead of me in line with ten identical Monster High dolls in your shopping cart. I am So Onto You.)

OK, you guys are cool. Carry on.

I'll be beyond sick of the song "All I Want for Christmas is my Two Front Teeth." I'll be tired of wrapping after my tenth paper cut. I'll be sick of cards after writing out my one hundredth Have a Wonderful Holiday. Seasonal Overload - it's coming. It always does.

At the end of it all, that Day will arrive. Kid is 8, so she's still into the whole Schmebang - the cookies, the milk, the stocking, the gifts. She'll wake up and come into our room (she always has to wake us up first, I don't know why) and we'll hear her feet pound down the stairs. There'll be a pause, a moment of "Oh! My! Goodness!" and the feet will pound back up the stairs. 

At that point, Seasonal Overload will somehow return to Seasonal Magic again. We'll eat Pizza Freets, our traditional breakfast, made by Poppy at the deep fryer. I'll have a humungo plate of cookies out, and of course the Big Sipper will be filled with tea. Kid's uncle will come over to watch her unwrap gifts. We'll have roast chicken and pasta (hey, we're Italian) for dinner.

Still in PJ's. Nothing beats that - NOTHING.

I'll enjoy every single second because as Kid hurtles inevitably towards the age of 9, 10, and teen years, the season will change. The gifts will become far smaller and much more expensive (phone, laptop, clothing store gift cards.) They'll be less fun to buy and wrap. I'm dreadfully afraid those pounding feet going up and down the stairs might just disappear. 

As Kid turns into Teen my husband and I might be the ones waking her skinny buns up.

And so I'll do my best to love every little moment, even the Mr. Suit guy with the ten Monster High dolls. Yup, even him.

The Calendar Mystery

Like this, but with more arm hangy-down.

How did this happen? Here we were, all settled as a family, and all  of a sudden we are racing around like crazy from one place to another. We don't sit down to meals together. We don't get reading time, nor play time either. HOW?

It's disingenuous of me to pretend that I don't know how we arrived at Point Crazy. It's all my fault, after all. Here is what happened, and you make the call:

Tai Kwando - We are thrilled that our kid is taking martial arts classes. I'm happy because she is learning balance and discipline; Dad's happy because in the future the kid can "kick some boy's ass."

Choir - Tiger Mother doctrine says that kids must have musical training. Natch, I have the least musically inclined child in the world. She has no interest - none. So when choir came along, with bells and whistles and her girlfriends, snagged that opp. Maybe she'll learn how to read music and thus understand math theory all the better. It could happen.

Scouting - More friends, more crafts, more cookies in a house already crammed to bursting with crafts and cookies. Still, did I mention the FRIENDS? It's all about a group of girls doing a structured activity together, in a world that celebrates cat fights in a beach house somewhere. Yup, sticking with the scouts.

Soccer - Now, here is where things start getting crazy. At this point, I should have said, "No, dear one, you already are involved in enough activities as it is. Let's concentrate on the others, shall we?" And then the thought flashes through my mind : What if Kid is the best female soccer player in the world???? And I wrecked her chance by not signing her up? (Of course, it could also be tennis, or gymnastics. Or curling.)

Grab your brooms! Who needs Quidditch?

Well, no. Actually the thought process was this : What if she has a really nice team, makes some great new friends, learns how fun a team sport can be, and gets good exercise and fresh air along the way? Do I really want to scotch all that?

So, here we are in the drive-thru, and now you know why. Mommy Guilt. Gets you every time.

Journey: BlogFlash2012 Day 9

One day I'm going to take a different kind of journey. For one thing, I won't have to pack as much stuff : no teddy bears, no paper dolls, no Monster High junk. I won't have to pack bags and bags of snacks.

We'll get on our way early because a certain someone won't have to run back inside because she forgot a certain Blankie, or Otter, or Wombat. (She really does have a Wombat.)

When we arrive, we won't have to go to every single gift shop in the airport. We won't have to stop at "Ozarkland" and have heart attacks at the prices. Finding a place that sells swim goggles won't be necessary. Ditto finding that one last souvenir, which means wanting to buy every single thing in the souvenir shop.

No one will have the top of their ice cream cone plop off onto the seat of the rental car, necessitating a complete turn around on an 8 lane highway to get more ice cream.

Nobody will refuse to go and see the St. Louis Arch or the Largest Ball of String in the World because they are playing Barbies. No, we will go and see that string and we will like it.

No gum in the hair, skinned knees, sharp elbow in my side, no heavy lump to be carried up to the hotel room at the end of a long day.

You know what? It just might not be as much fun.

Getting Malled

NOT what I looked like at the mall.

Yesterday my kid and I sashayed out to the mall, and I learned several things:

1. Those people who own the kiosk with the iPodTouch covers just outside the Apple store might as well be printing money right now. Thirty two dollars for a crummy plastic case with fake bling? Who's going to pay that? Oh, I am? Oh, okay.

2. If you buy your kid a toy for the stocking because said toy was really cheap on sale and you thought you were being slick, be prepared to go back and buy the ten other things at full price that you need to work that toy.

3. Plop a peace sign and glitter on anything, and a seven year old girl will want to buy it.

4. There are a lot of other people sashaying out to the mall, and parking spaces are quite scarce. I might as well have driven to a Katy Perry concert and expected to buy a ticket at the window as park my truck. Did I do that annoying thing where I followed an unsuspecting couple with bags in their arms to their car because they "looked done," and they "didn't have a stroller?" Maybe.

5. Did I say Katy Perry concert? Monster High dolls are like gold dust right now. Need a Zhu Zhu pet, though (that wind up hamster that I spent hours looking for two years ago? They are giving them away, I tell you.)

6. It is really, really important to keep a child fed with starchy foods. Otherwise, apparently, they do this alter ego thing that makes other shoppers look at you with the Oh There Is The Worst Parent In The World glare.

I hope that you have gleaned something from this, unless unlike me, you are sane and refuse to set foot in any sort of shopping area until January 2.