Notes from Suburbia: Mama's New Job, Insulting the Parents, Olympian Sleep Deprivation

Summertime Madness

It's, nominally, still "summer," a word that brings to mind thoughts of relaxation and restoration, of sipping sun-brewed iced tea with a sprig of fresh mint while lounging in a hammock as you clutch a beach read and soak up the deliciously cool shade of a regal maple tree.

Nothing like that is happening in the Picket Fence Post house these days.

Why? For once, the nuttiness around here has nothing to do with the onslaught of kids' extracurricular activities and national holidays bearing down upon me. You see, yours truly will be starting a new job next month. I'll be a full-time assistant professor at a local university teaching writing and journalism, plus I'm anticipating providing advice to the student newspaper. The gig was only made official a short while ago. I'd been hesitant to start putting in substantial prep work for these classes until it was a sure, signed on the dotted line kind of thing. The result: I've now got an intimidating pile of books to read in order to prepare for writing classes and a new course I'm developing, alongside the assignments and lesson plans I need to create.

Then there's a new book project on which I've been working throughout the summer (the subject is going to be kept under wraps for now) which has had me conducting many interviews over copious amounts of iced coffee -- some of the interviews multiple hours in length -- in coffee shops, restaurants, private homes and over the telephone, plus doing research for the project.

Neither of these new, wonderfully exciting and challenging professional developments leave me with a ton of time for other stuff . . . like sipping that iced tea in the shade.

So I'm guessing that when we finally receive the schedules for the Picket Fence Post kids' teams (two soccer teams, one hockey team, yes hockey . . . again), things'll really get nutty around here.

A Dog & A Diaper

The Spouse and I asked one of our children (who shall remain nameless) to accompany us as we walked Max the dog (he's doing fine, thank you very much for asking) around the block the other day. The kid replied by saying that walking around the block with one's parents, in public, is akin to walking around the block wearing a diaper.

Well, okay then.

The Sleep Deprivation Olympics

Thank God the Olympics are over. I don't think the kids could take it anymore.

The extended, late night NBC broadcasts -- where the much maligned network would needlessly draw out the most popular events, like gymnastics, into the late hours of the evening -- turned my kids into zombies. But the kids had to have their Olympics. They'd wake up with giant bags under their eyes after late night Olympic watching and then repeat the process again, growing more and more charmingly chippy as the Olympic days piled up, one after another and the intramural sibling skirmishes grew in quantity.

The Youngest Boy even started asking me if he could have coffee as he'd lean over my steaming mug and inhale its scent like an addict, like his caffeine-addicted mother. (I did not let him. The last thing that kid needs is caffeine.)

The highlight of the London Olympics: The U.S. women's soccer team capturing gold last week. The Girl hosted an energetic viewing party for several of her fellow soccer playing gals. I went a little Martha Stewart on her with all things patriotic, buying balloons, flag napkins, patriotic cupcakes (Martha would've made them, I just bought them) and placing a giant flag across our mantle. I was greatly relieved when the U.S. team won, not just because I wanted them to win, but because I didn't want The Girl to feel as angry as she did when the U.S. women's team lost the World Cup last year. (She can get pretty pissed off when her team loses. Seriously. Clear the path in front of her and stay far away.)

And, despite being sleep deprived, The Youngest Boy decided to try to impersonate the Olympic swimmers (without the obscenely low-slung swimming attire and the obnoxious Ryan Lochte diamond grill) and swam as though he was being pursued by a Cape Cod shark in search of a snack. I was pleasantly surprised when the kid started to swim lap after lap and wasn't winded at all. Me, I was practically hyperventilating. I may practice yoga and have flexibility, but that doesn't really help stamina. I could sure use some stamina right about now . . . or more coffee.

The Olympics Has Overtaken My House (As Has a Rogue Yankee Fan)

My 13-year-old daughter has been consumed by serious Olympics mania and it's threatening to overtake the house.

However I'm having a hard time putting the kibosh on her enthusiasm because the Olympics are the one time when women's sports receives even close to the volume and quality of media attention as the male athletes receive, so I've decided I'm going to try not to sweat her watching the events too often on TV (or on my iPad that she's slyly squired away from my office).

In the process, I'm kind of getting into the Olympic games too. Loved the Queen-James Bond thing during the otherwise yawn-fest known as the Opening Ceremonies. (I Tweeted all manner of snark during the ceremonies but couldn't stay up to the end. The Girl put herself to bed that night.) The Olympic events have been relatively exciting fare, though I could do with fewer shots of U.S. swimmer Ryan Lochte's flashing his ridiculous diamond-encrusted American flag grill. (What a way to ruin a good photo of the talented swimmer.)

Now that we're several days into this, it's growing tough for me not to get on my daughter's case as she's watching events for hours. But I have to keep in mind somewhat inane house rule that I decreed many moons ago in a weak moment: Watching sports or news doesn't really count as the sedentary evil known as "watching TV." (That way they won't harass me when I'm watching hours of the now sad Boston Red Sox or am riveted to Morning Joe.)

The same, however, won't go for my now 11-year-old son who'll demand the opportunity to watch a gazillion episodes of wholesome fare like The Simpsons or Family Guy that he's recorded on our DVR. He will and in fact has argued that, hey, ya know, if she's watching TV he should get to watch TV too. (My response to his protests, "Dude, you can watch the Olympics too.")

Speaking of the 11-year-old and the Olympics . . .  I remain curious about for which country he'll be rooting during the games. It's not necessarily a given that he'll be rallying 'round the Stars and Stripes. You see, he's been in a rather defiant stage when it comes to sports teams for several years now, with no sign of easing up.

Many years ago, the kid decided, for some unexplained reason, that he was going to be a Yankees fan . . . when he lives in the heart of Red Sox Nation and hails from 100 percent Red Sox lineage. After I got over my initial shock, I argued with The Spouse that it was just a phase and that if we fought it or tried to persuade him of the error of his ways, his faux affection for the Evil Empire would become even more strident. So when we allowed him to get a Yankees cap, as much as it went against every that is good and holy, I figured this infatuation would be short-lived.

I was wrong.

In fact, his Yankees fan taunting has become more vocally grating this season as the Red Sox have fared about as well as Michael Dukakis' presidential general election campaign while the Yankees sit smugly atop the AL East. And The Youngest Boy, he's reveling in the mire of this Sox season, gloatingly calling my attention to the standings as I read the paper while drinking my morning coffee each morning. (Yes, I'm a dinosaur. I still read an actual, paper newspaper.)

So when we all sit down, as a family, to watch the Olympics together, I'm never certain for whom the kid'll be rooting. (Watching Sox-Yankees games have been rather unpleasant as of late as you might imagine.) But if he chooses to root for the team that's playing against the U.S. women's soccer team, he'll be on his own facing the wrath of his super-fan of a sister.

Loyalties aside, the grousing The Girl has done -- about the officiating at the U.S. Women's soccer game, about what she sees as an injustice done to Jordyn Wieber who'll be ineligible for the all-around gymnastics competition because the Olympic rules limit eligibility to two gymnasts per team -- has been epic. But it's only because of her unbound affection for all things U.S. women's soccer and U.S. women's gymnastics. The posters she made and placed in our family room featuring great female U.S. Olympians, while she's been donning her Abby Wambach jersey and eating the red, white and blue cupcakes she baked just for the Olympics, are visual reminders to her dedication. Crossing his parents and rooting for the Yankees is one thing. Crossing his sister and rooting against the U.S. women's soccer team is another thing entirely.

Go team.