The Seasons, They Go 'Round and 'Round

First pool visit of 2008 today! If my kids ever express doubt that I love them and would do anything for them, I will point out that - against my better judgment - I don a swimsuit and venture out in public for their sakes each and every summer. Yes, I am willing to undergo public humiliation just so that they can have some good childhood memories. Our pool, by the way, is super-fantastic - the baby pool is a splash pool that goes all the way to 3 feet deep, so all the non-swimmers are happy; there's a sandpit for the little ones to dig in when they are sick of the water; and there is lots of shade and trees. I love our pool! I just hate the public humiliation part.

That said, sitting there today reminded me how much time has gone by since I first became a mother (16 and a half years, but who's counting?). Obviously, this pool is a magnet for the younger-kids crowd; and "younger kids" usually means younger (read, less jaded) mothers. All I could think as I sat there eavesdropping on their conversations was "Did I used to sound like that?"

Language Development in Mothers

Young and sweet mothers: "Would you like the lemon ice or the strawberry ice, sweetie?"
Old and tired mothers: "If you're going to fuss about getting lemon again, I'll eat that Italian ice myself."

Young and sweet: "Use your walking feet!"
Old and tired: "Stop running or the lifeguard will kick you out for the rest of the summer."

Young and sweet: "Tell that boy you don't want to share your shovel."
Old and tired: "Stop crying over a one-dollar toy, for heaven's sake, or I'll give you something to cry about!"

Young and sweet: "Use your words!"
Old and tired: "Please, for the love of God, stop talking!"

Young and sweet: "Do you want me to play with you in the pool?"
Old and tired: "Did they fill this thing with ice cubes this morning? Go play - I have a magazine to read."

Young and sweet: "I'm glad I wore my bikini - it's a great tanning day."
Old and tired: "God bless the person who invented the super-spandex tankini with the skirted bottom. Once I get that leg-vein surgery, I'll be all set."



Enjoy! It all goes by too fast!

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Of Books and Birthdays and BBQ's

Neva4getme has won my first (and maybe last) ever giveaway! Please contact me with your address so that my friend/secret agent can mail you Jen Singer's book You're a Good Mom from a location that is not here. The winner is due with her second baby any minute, so this can double as a new baby gift. Yes, I am cheap.

Things have finally quieted down here at the old blogstead, now that all the people Dawn and Sue sent over have finished checking me out (and, um, didn't come back). I'll admit it - it was exciting to feel so popular for a couple of days. Sort of like when the cool girls in high school let you sit at their lunch table for a bit, you know? For a few glorious days, you felt as if you were cool and beautiful and interesting to talk to... I mean, so what if they pretended you didn't exist the week after that?

Or was that just me that that sort of thing happened to?

Never mind. If you look at the sidebar to the left there, you'll see that yet another number has turned over. Yes, Susie is now 3 years old. I don't know how I am going to manage without a 2-year-old in the house. I mean, I'll no longer have an excuse for my sloppy housekeeping and half-hearted attempts at meal preparation. I might even be expected to keep up on laundry. The pressure! The pressure!

I got creative with Susie's birthday cake and added some mashed strawberries to the batter in lieu of some of the liquid. My friends, do not try this at home. I thought the strawberries would turn the cake pink; but instead it came out sort of brown, as if I had used whole wheat flour. The kids, of course, wolfed it down anyway, as it was covered in totally-bad-for-you lard-and-sugar frosting; but it wasn't one of my finest culinary moments.

We then made the kids walk a mile to David's Boy Scout troop's BBQ. They were having a pig roast. Rachel was rather disturbingly fascinated by the fact that she could see the pig's head. I expect to see our neighbors' pet rabbits lying on our grill doused in barbecue sauce any day now.

Larry and I figured out that we saved approximately 40 cents on gasoline by making the kids walk to the BBQ and back. Add to that the 40 cents I saved on Thursday by walking with the kids to their dental appointments, and...well...we've got 80 cents to put in the fund for the new shoes the kids are going to need if we keep making them walk everywhere.

Take that, global warming!

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We Been Jammin'

Strawberries! We're all about strawberries today! 40 pounds of strawberries, to be exact. That's approximately 25 quarts, Mir, you rookie! I laugh at your paltry 2 gallons! The excursion with just the 4 younger kids was pleasant and fun (yes! it was!) until we got in the car for the hour-long drive home. Rachel decided that she didn't like the CD I was playing and screamed in fury for, oh, 25 minutes or so. It felt like longer. Her screaming was punctuated by periodic wails from Brian: "Rachel! Don't hit me!" and "She's trying to undo my seatbelt!" That's one strange little girl.

Not having any duct tape handy, Larry and I decided to endure the aural onslaught silently rather than add to the noise by issuing idle threats. When we got home, we took Rachel out of the car and gave her a cookie to thank her for finally quieting down.

Ha, ha, ha - no, we didn't. We put her in her room for the entire afternoon. A gorgeous afternoon really - we opened her window so that she could hear the sounds of Brian and Susie playing with the neighbor kids outside. I half expected to look outside and see a bunch of sheets tied into a rope trailing out of Rachel's bedroom window; but, luckily, she fell asleep rather than planning an escape. Yelling like that can be exhausting, you know. At least, both Larry and I wanted a nap by the time we got home.

But that wasn't a possibility, as we had 40 pounds of strawberries rapidly aging in our kitchen. We swung into action. David decided that he was going to make chocolate-dipped confections with them, so he proceeded to melt chocolate chips in the double boiler and spread out wax paper, etc. Is he gonna be one great boyfriend, or what? Chocolate-covered strawberries - he's gonna have to beat those girls off with a stick.

Um, that's a figure of speech. This blog is in no way advocating girlfriend-beating.

While he dipped strawberries, I started up the jam process. David looked apprehensive as I turned on the big front burner on the stove to cook the mashed strawberries and sugar. "Are you sure that won't catch fire?" he worried. Poor kid - he's been traumatized by too many kitchen conflagrations, I'm afraid. So I took him by the shoulders, looked in his eyes, and said, "David. If you can't take the heat, you need to get out of the kitchen."

Tough love. It's the way to go.

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Parental Guidance Required

I was in Target with Anna the other day (no, I don't know why I repeatedly subject myself to this sort of torture), waiting while she tried on assorted garments in the dressing room. I was wandering around the juniors section in a sort of existential state of despair over the porn star look for teens when - miracle of miracles - I spotted it! A skirt, a full skirt, that went below the knees! Complete with an attractive smocked waistband and ruffled hem! I rushed over to check out the price, and there on the tag were the disappointing words - tube dress. As in, most emphatically not a mid-length skirt. (I would like to note here that, in the store, this garment appears much shorter than it does in the picture in that link. I think they had a midget model it.)

Crushed, I returned to the dressing room, where I held a scintillating conversation with my teen daughter (formerly known as "Beloved") that went like this:

"Why can't I buy this shirt?"
"Because it makes you look slutty. You want to look slutty?" (note: do not ask your teen daughter a rhetorical question)
"Yes." Only she said it "Ye-eh-es", the extra syllables subbing in for what she really wanted to say, which was "Yes, of course I do, anything not to dress like you. Duh."

She tries again:
"Well, how about this shirt?"
"How about we go home and I make you some clothes out of our curtains?"

Oh, poor Anna. Don't worry, honey - in a few short years you will be away at college and free to prance around in your underwear, if that is what your heart desires. In the meantime, your loving parents will make sure you at least give a good impression of being a young girl who respects herself enough not to be shoving her boobs and upper thighs in people's faces. We're sort of old-fashioned that way.

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Near Death Experiences and A Giveaway!

Hi! I cleaned my toilet 4 times last night! Another 6 times this morning! I am a toilet-cleaning goddess!

That's what happens, you know, when you have the stomach virus from hell that keeps coming back. Friday, Sunday, and again today! New and improved! In between toilet cleanings, I lay curled up on the couch in a fetal position. And decided that I was suffering from nothing less than end stage colon cancer. Isn't that fun? My only hope was to get well enough to go to the endodontist for my root canal appointment at 12:30. Why I was bothering to take care of my teeth when I was obviously not long for this world is beyond me.

So it wasn't shaping up to be a great day.

But now it is almost dinner time, my stomach seems to have jelled back into one solid mass, and the root canal didn't hurt! I am the world's biggest dental wimp, so that is saying a lot. Of course, the novocaine hasn't totally worn off yet. But have no fear - I have some prescription codeine tablets just in case. Because I cannot afford to lose another night's sleep.

Larry hasn't even called to ask how I am. He's in such trouble.

Since I was spending so much time in the bathroom, I grabbed a book from the stack on my nightstand to read in there. It just so happened that it was Jen Singer's You're A Good Mom. Jen is the blogger behind MommaSaid.net, where, if you will recall, I won the (ahem) prestigious Housewife of the Week award last December. So, naturally, I like Jen. And when she sent me her new book (complete with a very cute promo package) over a month ago, I had every intention of reading it right away and telling people about it (because I'm easy like that).

Well, here we are, many weeks later, and the only reason I didn't finish the book sooner was because I was too busy blogging. Also, I couldn't find the book for a while. And...and...the dog ate it. Anyway, I finished it last night; and, um, Jen? I don't really know how to review a book. I'll just give it the old college try, all right?

Essentially, it is a humorous book about "14 Secrets to Finding Happiness Between Super Mom and Slacker Mom." (I stole that from the cover.) Jen writes about what I and many other moms have discovered - good enough is good enough. Don't center your whole life on the kids. Don't overload them with activities. You don't have to amuse them all the time.

Only, she says it way funnier.

I particularly enjoyed her diatribe against specialized kid soccer leagues and extended soccer schedules. You see, I think soccer should be played in a local league for 8 weeks and no more, fall and maybe spring. Because I am sort of lazy about getting my kids to these things and I don't like kids' activities taking over our lives. But, where I live (and, apparently, where Jen lives, too) the season can stretch into overtime (I had a friend whose son was playing on Thanksgiving Day) and parents travel all over the place to allow their kids to play in a "better" league. I hate that. But, then, I know nothing about sports. Jen, however, lends credibility to my anti-elite-soccer stance; she actually played college soccer and coaches in her local kid leagues. And she feels the same way I do! So there! You can read all about it in her chapter titled, "Don't Let the Youth Sports Cartel Run Your Life."

Thank you, Jen. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.

This is a good book for moms with kids no older than 12. Because, if you haven't figured out this stuff by then, you probably are the Super Mom type she warns us about. I'm thinking I would like to give this book away to one lucky commenter; I just have to figure out how to mail it without y'all figuring out where I live. (Wow! I'm doing a giveaway! Just like the real bloggers!)

So comment on this post and let me know if you would like to be entered in the contest. I don't know how to do those random number generator thingies, so I will probably have one of the kids pick a name out of a hat. We'll try to be fair, I promise.

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