Today was the 100th Day of school for my kids. The elementary schools in our town make a big deal of the event by drawing pictures of themselves at 100 and writing about what they would do if they had $100 or 100 wishes, etc. My son had to do a project listing 100 things.
I had already been through this with my elder daughter two years ago who chose to list "Hello in 100 languages". We found a website called "Hello in 100 languages" and - Bob's your uncle - a bit of glue and a map of the world later, we were finished. My son, who suddenly seems a very long way from his Quaker preschool roots, chose "100 Modern Conventional Weapons".
Unfortunately, this was not a quick project. Making the initial mistake of looking up "modern warfare" we were redirected to video game websites with all manner of weird postings. Between the Internet searches and the local library checkouts the NSA probably has me red-flagged right now. It doesn't help that I am a murder-mystery aficionado and foreign national to boot.
And now I've just mentioned the NSA and weapons in the same blog post. And now I've just done it again! As long as I don't mention the president I should be fine ...
Showing posts with label guilty pleasures. Show all posts
Showing posts with label guilty pleasures. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Friday, December 16, 2011
My Mother is Trying to Ruin My Life
This is the title of the book Minx checked out of her school library this week. Apparently, I am being sent a message. I am no longer allowed to kiss her within sight of her friends/the school bus or make any suggestions as to her wardrobe or activities (although I refuse to relinquish absolute veto power). She actually ran away from home briefly, making it to the end of the driveway before my casual warning to look out for bats persuaded her that she could tolerate living with me for a little while longer.
Then she caught a real humdinger of a cold. Her fever spiked to 102.7 for two days solid. And for 48 hours she refused to leave my side. Of course, that kind of shadowing has its drawbacks as you can imagine. The house is a disaster and we have no food in the fridge or pantry. I can pretty much guarantee that I will be infected just in time for my older daughter's birthday party on Sunday.
But to have Minx all to myself, snuggling and loving and falling asleep in my arms, even if it is for only a short time? Absolutely priceless.
Then she caught a real humdinger of a cold. Her fever spiked to 102.7 for two days solid. And for 48 hours she refused to leave my side. Of course, that kind of shadowing has its drawbacks as you can imagine. The house is a disaster and we have no food in the fridge or pantry. I can pretty much guarantee that I will be infected just in time for my older daughter's birthday party on Sunday.
But to have Minx all to myself, snuggling and loving and falling asleep in my arms, even if it is for only a short time? Absolutely priceless.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Level-- I mean Step-- One
When we were kids, my brother and I-- both blonde and blue-eyed with a natural SPF of about negative eight-- often sought ways to escape the relentless rays of the mid-day summer sun.
At the beach club, we'd commandeer a table in the bar and play backgammon for hours. And, on those days we skipped the beach and stayed at the house, we'd hide out down the road (and across an abandoned field) at a restaurant/bar that had an adjoining black-lit arcade with a Six Million Dollar Man pinball machine, Space Invaders, and Pac Man. We spent a lot of time and ice cream man money there.
All those hours spent in bars as a kid may be at the root of my problem. No, not a drinking problem. A gaming problem.
My susceptibility to the siren song of "Player 1" has manifested itself many times over the years: I spent hours in my brother's room playing Pitfall! and Hockey on the Intellivision; I was addicted to Snake Byte on our Apple II (I can still picture vividly the trailing green tail); and I know that I deserved a four credit A in Tetris for all the time I wasted playing it freshman year.
The kids always ask me to play Wii with them and I defer. My reason for saying no is not that-- at almost 40-- I think video games are beneath me or that I no longer have the requisite hand-eye coordination. I don't play Wii with them because I'm scared of a future that finds me home alone at 11AM on a school day working hard to help Mario and Luigi rescue the princess.
And then I got the iPad2. Alert! Alert! Turns out I know myself pretty well. And yet... that didn't stop me from playing Angry Birds Rio until I got three stars in every level.
My name is Weaselsnark and I have a problem.
At the beach club, we'd commandeer a table in the bar and play backgammon for hours. And, on those days we skipped the beach and stayed at the house, we'd hide out down the road (and across an abandoned field) at a restaurant/bar that had an adjoining black-lit arcade with a Six Million Dollar Man pinball machine, Space Invaders, and Pac Man. We spent a lot of time and ice cream man money there.
All those hours spent in bars as a kid may be at the root of my problem. No, not a drinking problem. A gaming problem.
My susceptibility to the siren song of "Player 1" has manifested itself many times over the years: I spent hours in my brother's room playing Pitfall! and Hockey on the Intellivision; I was addicted to Snake Byte on our Apple II (I can still picture vividly the trailing green tail); and I know that I deserved a four credit A in Tetris for all the time I wasted playing it freshman year.
The kids always ask me to play Wii with them and I defer. My reason for saying no is not that-- at almost 40-- I think video games are beneath me or that I no longer have the requisite hand-eye coordination. I don't play Wii with them because I'm scared of a future that finds me home alone at 11AM on a school day working hard to help Mario and Luigi rescue the princess.
And then I got the iPad2. Alert! Alert! Turns out I know myself pretty well. And yet... that didn't stop me from playing Angry Birds Rio until I got three stars in every level.
My name is Weaselsnark and I have a problem.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Clothes Encounters
We were invited to a family party two weekends back - no, I'm sorry, per the invitation it was an "event" - and far too late to do anything about it, we discovered that our older daughter has absolutely NOTHING to wear except sweats. We cobbled something together out of clothes of mine that shrank in the wash (I swear) and vowed to go shopping together the following weekend.
So last Saturday we went to the mall. The problem was, neither of us knew where to shop anymore. Gap was too "young" for her (really? 'cos you're 10), Crewcuts was too fussy and designed for stick figures, and Justice was just plain nasty (my eyes actually hurt from all the tacky colors).
Finally, we found Abercrombie and, as I would have been at her age, my daughter was in heaven: Skinny, stretch jeans, plaid shirts, cute cardies, tiered skirts, Justin Bieber blaring (Baby, Baby, Baby, Oh!), a miasma of perfume wafting through the air!
We grabbed armfuls of clothes and headed for the changing rooms where we were stopped short by a very ditsy shop assistant who informed us that only one person was allowed in the changing room at a time.
"But I'm her mother and I want to see how everything fits!" I spluttered.
"It's store policy ma'am" (Oh no you didn't!).
The policy is probably aimed at tweens/teens on a shoplifting spree but this girl clearly couldn't work out the difference and I didn't feel like pushing it. She said what she was told to say. I guess a store that sells padded bikini tops to seven-year-olds really has a pretty twisted view of the world.
Of course, we'll go back.
So last Saturday we went to the mall. The problem was, neither of us knew where to shop anymore. Gap was too "young" for her (really? 'cos you're 10), Crewcuts was too fussy and designed for stick figures, and Justice was just plain nasty (my eyes actually hurt from all the tacky colors).
Finally, we found Abercrombie and, as I would have been at her age, my daughter was in heaven: Skinny, stretch jeans, plaid shirts, cute cardies, tiered skirts, Justin Bieber blaring (Baby, Baby, Baby, Oh!), a miasma of perfume wafting through the air!
We grabbed armfuls of clothes and headed for the changing rooms where we were stopped short by a very ditsy shop assistant who informed us that only one person was allowed in the changing room at a time.
"But I'm her mother and I want to see how everything fits!" I spluttered.
"It's store policy ma'am" (Oh no you didn't!).
The policy is probably aimed at tweens/teens on a shoplifting spree but this girl clearly couldn't work out the difference and I didn't feel like pushing it. She said what she was told to say. I guess a store that sells padded bikini tops to seven-year-olds really has a pretty twisted view of the world.
Of course, we'll go back.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Collect Calls
I'm no anthropologist, but there's got to be something primal about collecting stuff.
Whether intended or not, we all have collections-- it might be shoes, cars, jeans, art, tea cups, snowglobes or tsotchkes. Some people pursue their collections (picking up a magnet in each city they visit, say), others have collections thrust upon them (I saw this frog and thought of you since you have so many frog things...).
My weakness is toys. Toy makers are no dummies. They know that the real money is to be made not from the one-time toy purchase but from the repeat customer, the collector. So Snoopy gets a wardrobe. And Matchbox manufactures every make and model. And Hello Kitty-- is there anything you can't get these days with Hello Kitty on it? I wish I could go back in time with a trunk of today's Hello Kitty loot and make my seven-year-old-self's day.
Back when my son was into Thomas the Tank Engine, he played with the wooden trains all the time. And we collected them. I say we because I think I was just as into adding new trains as he was. What collection would be complete without Daisy? Or Spencer? Or Diesel 10? But, man, there was always another overpriced train being released. When I realized that they were using the TV show to introduce this endless parade of new trains my cynicism (finally) took over. Fortunately, at around that time, my son's interests moved on. (Baseball and football cards have yet to draw me in)
My daughter has about 20 active collections. Littlest Pet Shops. Boos. Webkinz. Pandas.
For her birthday last year we gave her one of those Charm-It charm bracelets. I figured it would appeal to her on many levels: jewelry, adorable miniatures, collecting things.... But I think I was just projecting. The other day I was at the toy store and was checking out the spindle of charms. (They always have new ones and some are ridiculously awesome.) And, lo and behold, there it was! Finally! A panda charm. I think I actually squealed. The intersection of two collections? Priceless. Right? Right?
I called my daughter over, figuring she'd go nuts. Eh. Not so much. She used her store credit on (yet another) stuffed animal.
Whether intended or not, we all have collections-- it might be shoes, cars, jeans, art, tea cups, snowglobes or tsotchkes. Some people pursue their collections (picking up a magnet in each city they visit, say), others have collections thrust upon them (I saw this frog and thought of you since you have so many frog things...).
My weakness is toys. Toy makers are no dummies. They know that the real money is to be made not from the one-time toy purchase but from the repeat customer, the collector. So Snoopy gets a wardrobe. And Matchbox manufactures every make and model. And Hello Kitty-- is there anything you can't get these days with Hello Kitty on it? I wish I could go back in time with a trunk of today's Hello Kitty loot and make my seven-year-old-self's day.
Back when my son was into Thomas the Tank Engine, he played with the wooden trains all the time. And we collected them. I say we because I think I was just as into adding new trains as he was. What collection would be complete without Daisy? Or Spencer? Or Diesel 10? But, man, there was always another overpriced train being released. When I realized that they were using the TV show to introduce this endless parade of new trains my cynicism (finally) took over. Fortunately, at around that time, my son's interests moved on. (Baseball and football cards have yet to draw me in)
My daughter has about 20 active collections. Littlest Pet Shops. Boos. Webkinz. Pandas.
For her birthday last year we gave her one of those Charm-It charm bracelets. I figured it would appeal to her on many levels: jewelry, adorable miniatures, collecting things.... But I think I was just projecting. The other day I was at the toy store and was checking out the spindle of charms. (They always have new ones and some are ridiculously awesome.) And, lo and behold, there it was! Finally! A panda charm. I think I actually squealed. The intersection of two collections? Priceless. Right? Right?
I called my daughter over, figuring she'd go nuts. Eh. Not so much. She used her store credit on (yet another) stuffed animal.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Private Practice
My husband has taken the kids on a couple of overnight ski trips recently and I have been left alone for the first time in 10 years. I am not good when left alone: I take liberties. Remember that Saturday Night Live spoof of the movie "Ghost"? Sam's ghost comes back to visit Molly who, because she believes she is alone, is wondering around the apartment in dirty sweats, farting and picking her nose.
OK, I'm not THAT bad, but standards are definitely slipping. Tonight I ate a nutritionally suspect dinner. At 5:45. In front of the TV. Wearing my pajamas. I planned to watch a dreadful chick flick until I remembered I don't like chick flicks, so I watched "The Social Network" instead. Still, my husband didn't want to see it (it doesn't involve either the mafia or Clint Eastwood)so it's a victory. It was actually pretty good.
These experiences have given me a fairly accurate insight into what my life might look like if I were single. Not sure I would appreciate this lack of structure on a long-term basis. So now I'm going to go to bed early and tomorrow I'll get up late. Then, I guess I'll get my festively-plump self to the gym. Before I'm tempted to buy a cat.
OK, I'm not THAT bad, but standards are definitely slipping. Tonight I ate a nutritionally suspect dinner. At 5:45. In front of the TV. Wearing my pajamas. I planned to watch a dreadful chick flick until I remembered I don't like chick flicks, so I watched "The Social Network" instead. Still, my husband didn't want to see it (it doesn't involve either the mafia or Clint Eastwood)so it's a victory. It was actually pretty good.
These experiences have given me a fairly accurate insight into what my life might look like if I were single. Not sure I would appreciate this lack of structure on a long-term basis. So now I'm going to go to bed early and tomorrow I'll get up late. Then, I guess I'll get my festively-plump self to the gym. Before I'm tempted to buy a cat.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Isn't That Special!
Even the people who wear sporrans, psychedelic trousers, and have legs like a mangled chicken should be judged by the content of their character.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Salon Selectives
I love going to the hair salon. Not only do you walk in with gray roots and a frizzy, triangular do and walk out with a gleaming helmet of style, while this transformation is taking place, you get to paw through a thousand shiny magazines! And unlike Doctor or Dentist visits, you actually have time to do due diligence.
At my last reincarnation, I read publications I didn't even know existed. I spent almost an hour gleaning articles and came out armed to the teeth with ideas for what books to read next, continuing education, girls' holidays, anti-aging products, and hotel ideas should I ever get to Austria. I also read a number of personal narratives, including one in More magazine where the woman tried to be a perfect mother and finally realized that all she wanted was for the kids to realize she did the best she could. What an epiphany! I teared up and had to fight to find my hands under the protective cape so that I could administer a tissue (sob!).
I left feeling very informed about the world at large and more importantly, the world of celebrities. I also felt empowered and rejuvenated. Reading at the salon is a little like the fries that come with your burger, secondary but often more satisfying: a sensory treat.
At my last reincarnation, I read publications I didn't even know existed. I spent almost an hour gleaning articles and came out armed to the teeth with ideas for what books to read next, continuing education, girls' holidays, anti-aging products, and hotel ideas should I ever get to Austria. I also read a number of personal narratives, including one in More magazine where the woman tried to be a perfect mother and finally realized that all she wanted was for the kids to realize she did the best she could. What an epiphany! I teared up and had to fight to find my hands under the protective cape so that I could administer a tissue (sob!).
I left feeling very informed about the world at large and more importantly, the world of celebrities. I also felt empowered and rejuvenated. Reading at the salon is a little like the fries that come with your burger, secondary but often more satisfying: a sensory treat.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Dear Santa ...
I vaguely remember writing letters to Santa when I was a kid, begging for that one item I desperately needed and then, like the kid in 'A Christmas Story', not getting it. Don't get me wrong, I was far from deprived, but there was definitely a disconnect between the fluff I wanted and the more practical things I got. Not so for today's kids. One of my son's friends (so age 7) was laughing about the iTouch he got for Chanukkah this year because (ha ha) he lost the one he got last year. Oh, and this one has a camera in it. Talk about the instant gratification generation!
On that note, I decided to publish my daughters' Christmas wish lists and see if you can guess which items will end up under our tree (my son didn't write one; he wants Santa to guess - great).
9-Year-Old:
Laptop
Wii Wipeout
Scooter
Felt Coloring
Remote Control Car
Mocha Frappachino
TV in my room
Paint by numbers
Pedicure and manicure
Sour candy maker
Snickers
To meet Mia Hamm
iTouch
Building kit
Smelly stickers
Mind Flex
Poster of Mia Hamm
(she's good for the candy, stickers, art stuff and poster)
Minx (5)
Markers
Cooking sduf
Coloring books
Harry Potter play toys
los uv candy
Camru
100 dolrs
New York toy
I wont to see Snta
Wke up on sevin frde (wake up at 7:30)
COTTON CANDY MAKER (this seems to be a priority)
I'm not even sure what some of it is. And truth be told, I'd rather not buy any of it and give the money to Smile Train or Make A Wish or any worthy cause because my kids need NOTHING. But then I think back to that Weeble tree house I SO desperately wanted, or the Barbie head you could beautify, or the Bionic Woman action figure (which cost $9.50 and ended up taking me almost a year's worth of pocket money to buy) and, once again, I indulge. Just a little bit.
On that note, I decided to publish my daughters' Christmas wish lists and see if you can guess which items will end up under our tree (my son didn't write one; he wants Santa to guess - great).
9-Year-Old:
Laptop
Wii Wipeout
Scooter
Felt Coloring
Remote Control Car
Mocha Frappachino
TV in my room
Paint by numbers
Pedicure and manicure
Sour candy maker
Snickers
To meet Mia Hamm
iTouch
Building kit
Smelly stickers
Mind Flex
Poster of Mia Hamm
(she's good for the candy, stickers, art stuff and poster)
Minx (5)
Markers
Cooking sduf
Coloring books
Harry Potter play toys
los uv candy
Camru
100 dolrs
New York toy
I wont to see Snta
Wke up on sevin frde (wake up at 7:30)
COTTON CANDY MAKER (this seems to be a priority)
I'm not even sure what some of it is. And truth be told, I'd rather not buy any of it and give the money to Smile Train or Make A Wish or any worthy cause because my kids need NOTHING. But then I think back to that Weeble tree house I SO desperately wanted, or the Barbie head you could beautify, or the Bionic Woman action figure (which cost $9.50 and ended up taking me almost a year's worth of pocket money to buy) and, once again, I indulge. Just a little bit.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Cabin Fever!
This whole post-tonsilectomy/adenoidectomy recovery has been exhausting and I'm not even the patient. My son is up like a newborn at night and refusing to rest during the day, wanting to be entertained instead and it REALLY doesn't help that pre-school is over for Minx, who has made it her mission in life to torture her brother. He draws a picture, turns around for a second, and she draws a single Alfalfaesque hair growing out of his alien's head. Or she walks over and toe-taps his carefully constructed block city. Aaaaargh!
Being tired and grouchy and stuck at home with a fridge full of jello, ice cream, sorbet and pudding is a dangerous thing, especially when, like most mothers, I eat my kids' leftovers. 'Always leave a clean plate' was our mantra growing up and it's a hard habit to break. Fortunately, after a while, liquid food is highly dissatisfying (for this reason alone I poo-poo the new 'Baby Food Diet' fad) and I have to hide in the closet to consume something crusty.
Hopefully, the recovery will be fast, my son will be pain free and will stop sounding like Mos Def in '16 Blocks'. If we go through another week like this, I may never leave the couch again.
Being tired and grouchy and stuck at home with a fridge full of jello, ice cream, sorbet and pudding is a dangerous thing, especially when, like most mothers, I eat my kids' leftovers. 'Always leave a clean plate' was our mantra growing up and it's a hard habit to break. Fortunately, after a while, liquid food is highly dissatisfying (for this reason alone I poo-poo the new 'Baby Food Diet' fad) and I have to hide in the closet to consume something crusty.
Hopefully, the recovery will be fast, my son will be pain free and will stop sounding like Mos Def in '16 Blocks'. If we go through another week like this, I may never leave the couch again.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
I'm Sorry, I Can't
I live in a society of volunteers and it's SO annoying. I could book myself to the hilt and would still look completely lame compared to most stay-at-home moms in my town. This one woman who has two children who require fairly intense therapy is perpetually out there: class mom, head of publishing center, town clean-up committee, theatre chair, PTA jack-of-all-trades. Omnipresent. Pththpbbthbth!
I'm helping out here and there but my only title right now is Cookie Mom for my daughter's Brownie Troop (I even get a badge ... though no instructions on where I'm supposed to put it).
My therapist has told me not to over commit myself but it's hard! The busiest people attract attention because The Others know they will get things done. No good deed goes unpunished and all that.
A friend of mine whose son was recently hospitalized confessed that the one good thing to come out of her experience was the falling off of sports and other commitments (only one soccer match per weekend!!!). It smacks a tad of Munchhausen Syndrome but sometimes when my kids are not 100% a small part of me loves to have an excuse to regroup and turn down requests. My son is having his tonsils and adenoids removed next week which buys me about two weeks and the best part? I get to spend it all with him.
I'm helping out here and there but my only title right now is Cookie Mom for my daughter's Brownie Troop (I even get a badge ... though no instructions on where I'm supposed to put it).
My therapist has told me not to over commit myself but it's hard! The busiest people attract attention because The Others know they will get things done. No good deed goes unpunished and all that.
A friend of mine whose son was recently hospitalized confessed that the one good thing to come out of her experience was the falling off of sports and other commitments (only one soccer match per weekend!!!). It smacks a tad of Munchhausen Syndrome but sometimes when my kids are not 100% a small part of me loves to have an excuse to regroup and turn down requests. My son is having his tonsils and adenoids removed next week which buys me about two weeks and the best part? I get to spend it all with him.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
It's OK. He Only Smokes When He's Really Drunk.
While I brush my teeth, I often find myself reviewing that day's events in my mind's eye. [That's before I start squeezing, picking, and plucking things that shouldn't be squeezed, picked, or plucked (guilty pleasure #16).]
Some days are good mommy days-- I rinse and spit feeling at one with the universe.
Some days are less good-- and I practically wag my finger at my reflection, resolving to have more patience, say, or to banish the yelling.
So, yeah, I'm not a perfect parent. Honestly, I don't know whether there exists such a creature. But I've got at least two things going for me (which is nice): 1) I'm always striving for perfection and 2) I'm definitely better than this kid's parents.
Good grief.
Some days are good mommy days-- I rinse and spit feeling at one with the universe.
Some days are less good-- and I practically wag my finger at my reflection, resolving to have more patience, say, or to banish the yelling.
So, yeah, I'm not a perfect parent. Honestly, I don't know whether there exists such a creature. But I've got at least two things going for me (which is nice): 1) I'm always striving for perfection and 2) I'm definitely better than this kid's parents.
Good grief.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
A Late Night Jay Who is Actually Funny!
I was reading Parents magazine last night (shut up! It's guilty pleasure #23) and came across a potty training story excerpted from a book by Jay Mohr.
Jay Mohr, you might recall, is an actor/comedian who is probably most famous for playing the back-stabbing sports agent who steals Tom Cruise's clients in Jerry Maguire. He also created and hosted the show Last Comic Standing on NBC (from which he subsequently got fired as host). He is also the celebrity crush of one of my friends (we all have guilty pleasures).
In the story Jay recounts how, as a first time dad, he was completely flummoxed by the whole diaper thing-- not so much the changing of them as the buying of them.
"A few times I came home with the wrong ones because I thought the baby on the package had to match the baby I had at home, like Garanimals. I would walk back and forth and mutter 'Hey, all these kids are Asian or black. Aren't there any white-baby diapers?'"
My laughing woke my husband. You can't beat a Garanimals reference.
Jay Mohr, you might recall, is an actor/comedian who is probably most famous for playing the back-stabbing sports agent who steals Tom Cruise's clients in Jerry Maguire. He also created and hosted the show Last Comic Standing on NBC (from which he subsequently got fired as host). He is also the celebrity crush of one of my friends (we all have guilty pleasures).
In the story Jay recounts how, as a first time dad, he was completely flummoxed by the whole diaper thing-- not so much the changing of them as the buying of them.
"A few times I came home with the wrong ones because I thought the baby on the package had to match the baby I had at home, like Garanimals. I would walk back and forth and mutter 'Hey, all these kids are Asian or black. Aren't there any white-baby diapers?'"
My laughing woke my husband. You can't beat a Garanimals reference.
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