The Suburban Jungle

Today, I took my daughter to the pediatrician for her 5 year check up. I know I probably should have been concerned about how she was going to freak out about the 4 vaccines and finger prick that are required to move on to Kindergarten, but I was too preoccupied what she was touching in the waiting room. I am one of those irrational parents that is forced by serious neurosis to take my kids to the doctor over every phlegmy cough. Unfortunately, I am also one of those parents who is quite sure that bringing kids to the doctor’s office pretty much guaranties that they pick up some other snotty kid’s infection, which is far worse than their own. So, you can imagine how going in for a well-check really throws me for a loop.

As I surveyed the waiting room, I noticed that the plastic kitchen in the corner was dripping with mucus. No, I didn’t bring my black light but, a baby had just finished mouthing the oven handle and I’m quite sure his sister picked her nose and tried to cook her reward in the faux microwave. (more…)

It has recently dawned on me that somewhere along the way, my sense of accomplishment became a product of my ability to be a good homemaker.  The creative energies I once used to design jewelry and dress celebs are now spent trying to build intricate forts and streamline the laundry process.  For instance, I’ve found that by rolling towels one can save considerable folding time, while providing the added benefit of a spa-like appearance.

When did this happen?  When did I accept the job as Master of the Mundane?  I remember the ad, it read:  Seeking highly motivated person, who requires little sleep, to cook, clean, wipe tushies, noses, and countertops… oh, and provide occasional sex to employer.  Person will be overworked and underappreciated.  It is preferred that you have no prior experience or references.  Always on duty.  Will pay nothing. (more…)

Okay, so the title isn’t exactly PC.  Sure, they tell you not to make-out with your kids, but sometimes it’s a fine line between so cute and ummm, scary.  What parent doesn’t secretly love it when their child says they want to marry them?  I mean for how many years are they going to want to make-out with, hug, snuggle, or hold your hand?

This morning my daughter came in to wish me a happy Valentine’s Day, to give me a stunning hand-made card, and to neck.  “Oh, this card is awesome.  Come give Mommy a kiss,”  I said in a very innocent non-incestuous way.  My daughter, maybe wanting to show me the magnitude of the holiday, grabbed my face with both hands and planted the biggest smooch on me, I almost started to giggle mid-peck.  But, she wasn’t done; she started turning her head from side to side in her best iCarly imitation.  “Ummm, okay cutie,”  I said feeling partly amused and partly violated. (more…)

Today, I learned how quickly you can turn a friend into an enemy.  Sure, the obvious ways are rather simple: run up to them, tap them on the shoulder, and when they turn around give ‘em a pop in the kisser.  Insult their cooking, their attire or worse, tell them how they should raise their children.

Those are no-brainers, if you’re in the market to lose a friend.  They’re also too malicious for my taste.  No, today I did the one thing that can make a mortal enemy while trying to make polite conversation.  I asked the non-pregnant receptionist at the salon I go to, when she was due.

You hear about people uttering the dreaded, “When are you due?” to those “not” with child or to those who just had a child, all the time.  We all know better than to ask that question unless we’re 110% sure. Frankly, I think you should witness the Clear Blue line on the pregnancy test before ever uttering that phrase.  But there I was, saying it as if I were a lovely, caring, wonderful person.  But when she replied, “due for what?” and then I watched as she processed my meaning while the color drained from her face, I realized, I was no friend of hers.  I was the devil!

I can think of so many awkward moments brought on by social ignorance.  My daughter pointing to someone and saying “Mommy, that man is sooo fat!” with said man inches away.  My son running up to a large black woman, grabbing both her breasts, and yelling across a Foot Locker, “Look at this Mommy, her boobs are HUGE.”  Yes, I’ve had my share of explaining to do, but short of my husband grabbing that same woman’s bosoms and yelling across the Foot Locker, I can’t think of a more “foot in mouth” situation than I had today.

“When she asked due for what?” it sent my mind a flutter, holy crap, she’s not pregnant –is there some  other way to respond: “Due for a teeth cleaning.   Due for a pap smear.  Due for a subscription renewal of Cosmo, “Yes, I just took a job doing magazine sales to earn extra cash to redo my kitchen, and I just wanted to give you a great rate on a full year of the magazine of your choosing at half the newsstand price!”

No, there was no other answer, though I stood silent for quite some time, thinking out the magazine salesperson script.  I went with, “I am soooo sorry.  It’s just that those damn empire waist shirts make everyone look pregnant, frankly you’re the 5^th person I’ve asked today.  And then when I saw that glow to your perfectly clear skin, I just I… “ (she had walked away mid-sentence, no joke)  I think she may have gone to cry or print out a picture of me to throw darts at.  Either way, I’m in the market for a new salon –if you of any!

Question: I want to know. What’s your worst foot in mouth moment??? Feel free to answer in Comment section.

As a child, I too encountered the dreaded “Because I Said So.” My parents usually yelled in frustration or hissed between clenched teeth. No matter what the method of delivery, it signified the end of the discussion. I remember wondering, what exactly does that mean and why is that a remotely valid argument? It was a parental trap; there was no way to fight it, and yet I felt unsatisfied in conceding to my parents.

Now, at 30 something I finally know what it means. It means the adult is losing the battle with a child. Yep, “Because I Said So” is the phrase used when you are being outsmarted or out-debated by an 8 year old. The truth is, sometimes their reasoning makes sense… a lot of sense. (more…)

A recent study by the Kaiser foundation claimed that children are using almost 8 hours of media per day.  Wow, just yesterday I felt like I was doing a horrible job of parenting.  I saw myself as one of those moms who allowed too much media into the home, the car, and on outings.  I definitely rely on media for some much needed breaks in “Mothering.”  My family also has regular Wii tournaments and my son, daughter, and I play many of gigs as the Guitar Hero band, “Imp Switch.”  My kids use media related activities to the fullest, but they don’t log 8hrs a day.  I am somehow on the downside of that curve, which means I may be doing something right or at least not as “wrong” as the average mom.  Wahoo!  Proof of my excellent parenting.

If your kids aren’t in school or asleep, they’re probably easy to find… start at the TV and work your way around the house being aware of wires, headphones, and gaming sounds.  Let’s face it 53 hours a week of media use is a full time job.   In order to accomplish such a feat it would take actual effort.  Heaven forbid your child plays a sport, needs a shower, or has a hunger pang.  Who knows where they can squeeze in those kinds of “frivolous” activities.

It seems like quite an undertaking, consuming this much media each day, and I fear with new technologies and advancements, it will only get worse.  Bottom line, I need to rent more movies.  What?  I gotta catch up.

(If you haven’t read this piece, it’s sooo worth it.  If you have, and got a message on 3-10-10 to reread, I apologize.  I don’t know why that just went out!  Feel free to read License to Procreate, if you haven’t read it, and I will try and figure out the technical shit that baffles me everyday, in the mean time.)

This time of year I amuse myself by looking back at last year’s resolutions. Ones I made with the best intentions, like learning an instrument or a foreign language. Last Chanukah I had my husband buy me a guitar. I had all the confidence in the world that by this New Year, I would balk at a request to play “Stairway To Heaven,” saying something dismissive like… “Please, that’s so cliché, but why not?” or “Por favor, es muy cliché, pero porque no? Unfortunately, my guitar collects dust while my Spanish collects rust.

So for this year, I have made some resolutions that are a bit more achievable:

1. Nag More

For 10 years my husband has not picked up a wet towel, washed ketchup off of a dish, changed a light bulb, or remembered trash day without a friendly, “How many times do I have to tell you?” I vow to be relentless in my nagging. I will lay immediate blame using words like always and never. As in, “I always, and you never.” I will play the martyr by saying, “Forget it. I’ll do it myself.” I will amp up the guilt with, “I do everything around here.” Or something unarguable like, “It’s obvious by your refusal to change a light bulb that you don’t love me anymore.” If all goes well, I’ll be nagging him to go to couples therapy by 2011.

2. Gain Weight

I will add carbs to my diet with reckless abandon. I will start each meal with a generous helping of bread and rolls onto which I will spread an obnoxious amount of butter. I will stuff food into my mouth with such fervor it will make other eaters uncomfortable to watch. I vow to eat everything a la mode, including ice cream.

3. Workout Less

This will actually take serious effort. The only thing harder would be to shower less. If I need the proverbial cup of sugar, I will drive to my neighbor’s garage and beep until she comes out and hands it to me. I will take elevators in two-story buildings. Lastly, I will drop my membership to the gym and use the money I save to buy more carbs.

4. Forget an Old Language

This year, not only am I not going to learn a new language, I will let my brain atrophy to forget the one I already know. I will watch endless episodes of Sponge Bob and Chowder. I will stop doing crosswords and speaking in complete sentences. I will break all grammatical rules; I will misplace modifiers, dangle participles, and end sentences in prepositions. I will express my thoughts through that African clicking language, modern dance, and a set of bongos that I will wear around my neck.

5. Stay Out of Touch

This time of year, I am reminded of the many friends I have let time and space interfere with. I intend to further that distance. I will start by rejecting any new Facebook or social network requests. I will also attach a note that reads “I never liked you in the first place.” I will cuss out and hang up on people who call in hopes of fulfilling their own resolution to rekindle old friendships.

6. Be Less Patient

I will be aggravated, exasperated, and ready to blow my stack at the slightest misstep. The next time my son wants help with his homework I’ll say, “That’s it! Clearly this whole Elementary Education thing is not for you. If you don’t know how to spell December by now, you never will…Now, go get a job! Oh, and take your sister with you, she sits on the potty way too long.”

7. Hold Grudges

This year I will forgive no one. I don’t care if you step on my toe, or pay me the five bucks you owe me, a day after the assigned due date. I vow to hate you forever and never forget how you wronged me.

8. Stress More

I will lose sleep thinking about planning parties, redecorating my house, trying to budget, missing appointments, teacher conferences, and health issues. I will laugh an evil cackle while erasing all the plans from my PDA, and then cry over what I’ve just done. I will empty our bank account on frivolous investments and watch it dwindle away. Oh, wait…that already happened. Well good, more for me to worry about.

9. Become Addicted to Something

Smoking, alcoholism and Starbucks are so trite. I’m thinking something unique like nasal spray or hand sanitizer. Or at least something beneficial to my endurance like crack. Look, I already have a shopping addiction; maybe I could offset the bills with a robust gambling problem.

10. Gossip More

I vow to talk about everything you do in the New Year. If I see you at the pediatrician for so much as a flu shot, I will tell everyone your child has hand foot mouth, so you can be verbally assaulted when you show up at a birthday party the next day. If you look too skinny, I will assume it’s a divorce or an addiction. If you look too hot, I’ll call it a torrid affair. If you look too young, it’s an addiction to surgical procedures because you’re getting divorced, due to a torrid affair.

I will start a rumor phone tree and a blog called “WhatPeopleAreReallyUpTo.com.” I may even have a megaphone installed on my “Gossip Mobile,” so I can drive through town amplifying the skeletons in your closet to all within earshot. Oh, wait… I’ll just write about it in next week’s column.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

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So, the holidays are upon us.   Christmas has just passed and visitors are abundant, but their welcome is wearing thin.  I know, we all look forward to this time of year, but often in the midst of it, we realize the heavy meals have expanded our waist lines and our relatives have stretched our patience.

In-laws can be the toughest during the holiday season.  I’m not talking about mine; they’re amazingly wonderful and never bothersome, NEVER.  Mine aren’t even in this season, but I have heard tales of other in-laws who cause stress and frustration.  The way they handle a turkey, as if it is not a breeding ground for salmonella, or the way they screw with the table settings that you took a painful amount of time arranging to look haphazard and shabby chic.  I know, my “friends” sound like a joy to be around over the holidays, right?  I am simply relaying their stories, I am in no way referring to specific incidences that may have happened in the past, which have caused me anxiety or to count to 10 by the medicine cabinet, while searching for Zanex .

Let’s face it, it’s harder to have tolerance for those who didn’t raise us: friends and non-immediate family included.   We have a certain forgivability factor for our blood relatives; they can get away with more and feel the wrath less.  We also tend to offend them less as they too have a forgivablity factor, towards us.  Thank goodness.

So, while you count the hours till your guests get on their merry way, I suggest heavy drinking.  Use the holiday traditions to mask your quick bout with alcoholism:  Manischewitz on Chanukah, egg nog on X-mas, and champagne on New Year’s.

Remind yourself that you’re probably getting on their nerves as well.  This is also not a problem I have, as I am always filled with an almost addictive amount of holiday cheer, but logic says:  If they’re annoying you, you’re most likely annoying them.  (Or did I read that on a fortune cookie?)  Well logic or Confucius says that.

Grandparents, especially in-laws, really aren’t there for you in the first place.  They’re there for your children.  You’re just an obstacle.  You and “Your Way” are hurdles to be tip-toed around, not jumped over.  They don’t agree with your techniques, your rules, and your methods of punishment — or lack thereof.   Though this is a point of un-verbalized contention between you and them, look at the positive.  They would love for you to get out of the house, so that they can do and say what they please without feeling like you’re critiquing and judging there every movement – which, by the way, you are.

Don’t over think this one!  Go out and let them babysit!!!  And while you’re out, drink heavily.

Disclaimer: No in-laws, parents, or guests were harmed in the writing of this article!

OMG, I have to tell you guys something.  I often turn to my iCarly diary with my darkest secrets, but this one is just too juicy.   Here goes…  I slept with Tiger Woods.  You guys are probably freaking out, as Tiger’s reputation has been sooo perfect up until now.   Let me be the first to tell you, he’s not the squeaky clean Jonas Brother, he pretends to be.

Our affair was rather recent.  I must confess, he was passed out when I met him.  Sadly, that’s not the first time I started an affair with an unconscious man.  The other time was when this guy was hit by a subway car and I went to visit him in the hospital.  His family showed up and took me for his fiancé.  I went along with it because I was lonely and it was the holidays.  Eventually, he woke up and I married his brother.  Oh wait, that wasn’t me.  DUH.

Anywho, with Tiger it was different.  He was admitted to the hospital (where I am a candy striper) after a rather harsh battle with a fire hydrant.  –See, it’s different already.  It appears he and his wife play late night golf and he took his car to search for a stray ball, when the confrontation occurred.  I can only imagine how far one of Tiger’s balls can fly (well, I don’t have to imagine anymore).  –That was a sex joke, in case you didn’t catch on, LOL.

As it turns out, it was lucky that his wife was caddying for him, as she was able to use his iron to pull him from the wreck and beat off the fire hydrant.   I didn’t even know fire hydrants could come to life, but I saw this movie about a car named Christine and she came to life.  So, I guess anything’s possible.

Tiger  even promised me a signed Fat Head of his best friend MJ.  I can’t believe he can get in touch with Michael Jackson, but after the stint with the fire hydrant, I can see Tiger’s special.  Other people can see it too.   He also had sex with my friend Luanne who mops the floors.   And then Gertie, who resides in the nursing home area.   Oh, and Becky who was in the pediatric unit to have her tonsils out.  I ran into him wandering around the Nursery.  He says looking at the babies calms him.  I get it, they’re so sweet and innocent.

I confronted him about all those other girls, but he said, “don’t worry honey, you’re my hole in one.”  He said if we do it enough I can be his “double bogey.”  I don’t know anything about the golf but the nicknames sure are cute.  Oh yeah, he made me swear I’d never tell… Shit.

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When I was a child, watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade with my family was tradition. We would wake up bright and early, drag ourselves into the family room, rub our tired little eyes, and gather around the television. Mom would offer coffee and hot cocoa, depending on your age. We’d snuggle together, ready to critique the bands and cheer for our favorite floats. To us, the T-Day Parade was the official kick off of the holiday season. It was tradition, and it was spectacular. Read More…

One of my biggest pet peeves in Disney movies is the killing off of moms. It truly irks me that when I go to a “kid flick,” I have to worry that it will reinforce the innate fear that children have about confronting their parents’ mortality. Yes, I am aware that some Disney movies are based on fairytales which date back hundreds of years. Most of these stories involve the loss of the mother prior to the beginning of the story, hence the existence of the wicked stepmother. With this said, what about Disney movies that exterminate the moms with scenes that could give Steel Magnolias a run for its money? I haven’t even let my children see Disney tearjerker’s like  MORE…