Never let it be said that The Youngest Boy lacks the humor gene, or, to put it more accurately, the sarcasm gene.
During our very active Mother’s Day – we first went to church and participated in a cool thing called a flower communion and then played a cut-throat family game of Scrabble (seriously, there were tears, shouts and accusations of unfair play) – we decided to take advantage of the break in the rain to take a long walk, bringing Max the Mini-Wheat with us.
Both The Spouse and I had warned the kids ahead of time that we’d be going up and down some steep hills on this here walk of ours and that bringing their scooters might not be the best idea. But did they listen? Of course not. Walking's boring, or so I was told. Halfway up the first hill, The Youngest Boy declared that I had lead our pack down “the Road of Pain.” Dramatic much? The Spouse wound up walking The Youngest Boy’s scooter up that first incline.
You’d have thought that we were torturing them as we scaled yet another hill in our residential neighborhood as two of the three Picket Fence Post kids huffed, puffed, rolled their eyes and grimaced. For his part, Max was panting so heavily that his tongue was hanging out of one side of his mouth like a cartoon character.
Miraculously, by the time we made it back home, the children's energy level rebounded and they wanted to play a family game of Wiffle Ball, because what’s Mother’s Day with Wiffle Ball? Max, not so much. His stubby little legs were worn out and he promptly made himself into a first baseline hazard. The bottom line of the backyard contest: My team (me, The Girl and The Eldest Boy) did about as well as the Red Sox are doing.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Things That Bug Me About Mother's Day
I've been feeling rather Grinchy lately, as the ads and chatter about Mother's Day reaches its apex, though last night's episodes of The Middle and Modern Family provided me nice comic relief about the holiday.
Why? Let me count the reasons why Mother's Day bugs me:
1. The overcommercialization. Seriously . . . what makes some people look at a car wash and think, "Moms would like this"?
Here's a handy tip: Not every mom likes the color pink, stuffed animals, cleaning supplies or wearing a sweatshirt with a cartoon character on the front.
Another helpful suggestion: You know that ad you've been hearing on the radio about pajamas that are supposed to make Mom feel like a superhero, and those pajamas include a cape? No. Just. No.
2. The pressure. It's one thing to celebrate each person who is important in your life on his or her birthday. You call them, send them a card, maybe get them a gift or share a meal. But imagine if all those birthdays occurred on the same day and everybody wanted you to celebrate THEIR birthday with them? Madness, right?
That's how I feel about Mother's Day (and Father's Day for that matter). No matter what you do, you're bound to disappoint somebody. And I hate disappointing people.
3. The gift. Try to find an appropriate gift which says, "Thanks for putting up with my crap when I was growing up." A gift that you haven't already given your mom a thousand times before. Nothing can really do the trick or possibly express how much all that woman's efforts meant to you. I'd much prefer to put the time into a meaningful birthday gift rather than a Mother's Day gift for all the moms in your life (and your spouse's life) simultaneously.
4. The falseness. There are many stories I've heard from moms who've had utterly awful Mother's Day experiences where they've had to drag their very young rug rats to a white linen and real silver flatware restaurant for brunch and struggled to keep the children from chucking their food, knocking things over and navigating the buffet line without knocking that great grandmother with the walker over there into the tray of Belgian waffles. But those moms had to plaster a fake smile on their faces and pretend as though they were having a great time.
How come we never hear about Father's Day brunches? 'Cause they don't have to suffer through them. Instead, they get barbecues with hamburgers and hot dogs and chips. And beer. And baseball on the TV. I wanna trade.
Here's what I do like about Mother's Day:
1. The cute factor. When your kids are young, they really try, in the narcissistic way that children have, to do something for Mom, even if they need ample help from Dad to accomplish it. (This can also work for grandmothers with young grandkids too.) They hand you scrawled crayon drawings of you and the child holding hands and there are lots of hearts on it. They give you sticky kisses. The craft that they made at school is still wet with glue when they hand it to you in bed.
Once your kids are of driving age, that cute phase is long gone. That's when they get a store-bought card that's been hastily signed and read a text that just came in on their cell phone while you were reading their card. Then they ask you for the car keys.
2. The excuse it gives you for family time. Mother's Day is a great excuse to take a pass on crappy errands, tasks or things that you don't want to do (unless it's Mother's Day brunches) and just chill with your family. I, for one, like Mother's Day the best when it's ridiculously simple: I don't want to cook and I don't want to do dishes on that day (or any other day for that matter, but that's another blog post). We can just hang out or maybe walk around at a park if the weather's nice. Oh, and I want hugs and don't want to referee an argument about the TV remote.
What do you think of Mother's Day? Are you a fan or not so much?
It's worth noting that a writer on the web site Babble claims that the woman whose efforts led to the creation of the national Mother's Day holiday later hated what it had become and tried, in her final days, to have it abolished.
Why? Let me count the reasons why Mother's Day bugs me:
1. The overcommercialization. Seriously . . . what makes some people look at a car wash and think, "Moms would like this"?
Here's a handy tip: Not every mom likes the color pink, stuffed animals, cleaning supplies or wearing a sweatshirt with a cartoon character on the front.
Another helpful suggestion: You know that ad you've been hearing on the radio about pajamas that are supposed to make Mom feel like a superhero, and those pajamas include a cape? No. Just. No.
2. The pressure. It's one thing to celebrate each person who is important in your life on his or her birthday. You call them, send them a card, maybe get them a gift or share a meal. But imagine if all those birthdays occurred on the same day and everybody wanted you to celebrate THEIR birthday with them? Madness, right?
That's how I feel about Mother's Day (and Father's Day for that matter). No matter what you do, you're bound to disappoint somebody. And I hate disappointing people.
3. The gift. Try to find an appropriate gift which says, "Thanks for putting up with my crap when I was growing up." A gift that you haven't already given your mom a thousand times before. Nothing can really do the trick or possibly express how much all that woman's efforts meant to you. I'd much prefer to put the time into a meaningful birthday gift rather than a Mother's Day gift for all the moms in your life (and your spouse's life) simultaneously.
4. The falseness. There are many stories I've heard from moms who've had utterly awful Mother's Day experiences where they've had to drag their very young rug rats to a white linen and real silver flatware restaurant for brunch and struggled to keep the children from chucking their food, knocking things over and navigating the buffet line without knocking that great grandmother with the walker over there into the tray of Belgian waffles. But those moms had to plaster a fake smile on their faces and pretend as though they were having a great time.
How come we never hear about Father's Day brunches? 'Cause they don't have to suffer through them. Instead, they get barbecues with hamburgers and hot dogs and chips. And beer. And baseball on the TV. I wanna trade.
Here's what I do like about Mother's Day:
1. The cute factor. When your kids are young, they really try, in the narcissistic way that children have, to do something for Mom, even if they need ample help from Dad to accomplish it. (This can also work for grandmothers with young grandkids too.) They hand you scrawled crayon drawings of you and the child holding hands and there are lots of hearts on it. They give you sticky kisses. The craft that they made at school is still wet with glue when they hand it to you in bed.
Once your kids are of driving age, that cute phase is long gone. That's when they get a store-bought card that's been hastily signed and read a text that just came in on their cell phone while you were reading their card. Then they ask you for the car keys.
2. The excuse it gives you for family time. Mother's Day is a great excuse to take a pass on crappy errands, tasks or things that you don't want to do (unless it's Mother's Day brunches) and just chill with your family. I, for one, like Mother's Day the best when it's ridiculously simple: I don't want to cook and I don't want to do dishes on that day (or any other day for that matter, but that's another blog post). We can just hang out or maybe walk around at a park if the weather's nice. Oh, and I want hugs and don't want to referee an argument about the TV remote.
What do you think of Mother's Day? Are you a fan or not so much?
It's worth noting that a writer on the web site Babble claims that the woman whose efforts led to the creation of the national Mother's Day holiday later hated what it had become and tried, in her final days, to have it abolished.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Mother's Day E-Greetings from 'Modern Family's' Claire Dunphy
As I eagerly anticipate the new episodes of both The Middle and Modern Family, as they will be Mother's Day themed (And what's Mother's Day if not an awesome opportunity to bring massive disappointment, chaos and burnt toast to mothers everywhere?), I learned that Modern Family's Facebook page is affording fans the opportunity to send personalized e-cards.
I pretended as though the Picket Fence Post kids were sending me an e-card featuring Claire Dunphy there were pre-written greetings from which you could choose.
(There are also e-cards featuring Gloria and Cam.)
I pretended as though the Picket Fence Post kids were sending me an e-card featuring Claire Dunphy there were pre-written greetings from which you could choose.
(There are also e-cards featuring Gloria and Cam.)
Monday, May 2, 2011
This Just In . . . 'Selfish Reasons to Have More Kids'
The cover has stick figure sketches of a mom and a dad and six, count ‘em, six kids standing next to the ‘rents. And all of them are smiling.
I’m going to read this book with an open mind and will report back here – and in an upcoming column – about my thoughts on Caplan's suggestion that parents need to chill out, enjoy child-rearing and have more kids.
Image credit: Basic Books.
Thoughts on the Bin Laden News
*Originally appeared on Notes from the Asylum*
My youngest son was six weeks old when those American planes were turned into lethal missiles in New York, Pennsylvania and Washington, D.C. under the direction of Osama bin Laden. And this morning, I got to tell that child -- now 9 years old, who’s been told since he was old enough to understand about the horrendous evil that occurred on that day -- that the United States, and the families of those killed on that day, finally got some justice.
And while watching Democrats and Republicans speak with one voice to praise the Navy SEALS, members of the U.S. Intelligence community and the leadership of President Obama and witnessing footage of citizens at Ground Zero celebrate the fact that that person can longer perpetrate evil upon the world, those feelings I experienced in the immediate aftermath of 9/11 are bubbling up to the surface.
This morning a Boston radio station replayed the audio from NBC Nightly News' broadcast from the night of Sept. 11, 2001. Listening to the voice of Tom Brokaw summarize the horrors of that day brought me back to when I had a six-week-old baby and 3-year-old twins and suddenly felt as though our nation was more vulnerable than I’d ever believed it to be.
Today at least we can feel better that the symbolic figure who represented the death and violence of that day is no longer.
Image credits: The Huffington Post.
Friday, April 29, 2011
A Greeting Card that Made My Day
The other night I made the Picket Fence Post kids a healthy, tasty dinner. I marinated chicken breast and Vidalia onions in Soy Vay Island Teriyaki sauce. I stuck them onto skewers along with grape tomatoes, red pepper slices, fresh cilantro, halved mushrooms and freshly sliced oranges. While grilling the shish kebobs, I also put fresh mango slices on a skewer. It was all served with sides of plain yet handmade (not by me) pasta and sliced apples. If they wanted to put a mango salsa onto the food, they could do that too.
The kids hardly ate a thing. One said he was too full from his afterschool snack. Another ate only pasta and sliced apples. The third ate a minuscule amount of food then also claimed a lack of appetite.
Normally, I would’ve been uber-ticked off because I spent a decent amount of time preparing this healthy meal only to have The Ungratefuls scorn it. But today I received a card in the mail from one of my friends. On the front was a drawing of mismatched kitchen chairs, a white wooden kitchen table, a bottle of wine, two wine glasses and what appears to be a salad bowl. The sentiment read as follows: “A good cook knows that it’s not what is on the table that matters. It’s what is in the chairs.”
Thank you Julie for giving me something positive to hang onto while the kids turned their noses up at yet another meal.
The kids hardly ate a thing. One said he was too full from his afterschool snack. Another ate only pasta and sliced apples. The third ate a minuscule amount of food then also claimed a lack of appetite.
Normally, I would’ve been uber-ticked off because I spent a decent amount of time preparing this healthy meal only to have The Ungratefuls scorn it. But today I received a card in the mail from one of my friends. On the front was a drawing of mismatched kitchen chairs, a white wooden kitchen table, a bottle of wine, two wine glasses and what appears to be a salad bowl. The sentiment read as follows: “A good cook knows that it’s not what is on the table that matters. It’s what is in the chairs.”
Thank you Julie for giving me something positive to hang onto while the kids turned their noses up at yet another meal.
Watching the Royal Wedding with Reluctant Kiddos
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| Image credit: AP via Gawker |
Then at about 6 when the ceremony was beginning and Kate was walking down the aisle, I decided that I just had to go get The Girl, even though she usually wakes up at 6:30 on school days in order to get out of the house by 7:15 to catch the bus. You see The Girl loves to sketch. All the time. And she mostly sketches pictures of women in various gowns and get-ups that spring from the creative recesses of her mind.
And as Kate was strolling down that aisle, in the midst of all those people – including the women wearing the funky hats (like Sarah Ferguson’s daughter whose hat seemed inspired by Dr. Seuss) – I thought there’s no way she would’ve wanted to miss it.
But as it turns out, dragging a 12-and-a-half-year-old sporty gal who disdains “girly” duds even though she draws them all the time, wasn’t such a hot idea after all.
“How long IS this?” she whined, very grumpy as I attempted to rouse her interests in the events.
In her exhaustion, she proceeded to provide comic relief, which was sorely lacking in the media coverage.
“I want a hat,” I quipped, truly in awe by the coolness of the hats and wondering why they’re not in fashion here in the States.
“Don’t get one!” my daughter replied emphatically.
Soon after her twin brother showed up, The Girl fled the room, thoroughly bored. Meanwhile, I asked The Eldest Boy what he thought about the wedding. He took one look at the TV and said, “Too royal.”
As one of the many ministers spoke during the service, a kid asked, “Isn’t that the guy from The Gilmore Girls?” The child was, of course, referring to Headmaster Charleston from Chilton Academy where Rory Gilmore went to high school.
The Girl popped back into the room while she nibbled on a toasted bagel. “What’s going on NOW?” she asked.
“More singing,” I said. She rolled her eyes.
By the time The Girl left for school, she admonished me not to watch royal coverage all day, but not before informing The Spouse that should she ever get married, she wants to wear a soccer uniform to the wedding.
Image credit: Associated Press via Gawker.
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