Lovingly Blunt

Firsts

2012-02-25T07:35:00.001-08:00

On Friday, I had my first mammogram. Frankly, I was disappointed. It did not live up to the hype at all. Rather than let the day go by unnoticed, I will take a few moments to discuss the hospital gown. I had to put on a gown with the opening in the front and walk down the hall into the mammography room. Well, the tie at the neck is no problem. However, the next tie down is at hip level, forcing a seriously embarrassing gap. I thought if I cinched the tie tight enough it might force the rest of the gown closed – no such luck. Instead, it forces the gown to open even more. Also, there were two ties on the right. For what? I have no idea, but I spent a long time trying to figure out the engineering of this article. I looked to see if there were two ties on the left. Maybe it would close like my bathrobe does, with an inside tie AND an outside tie. Nope. I even double checked that I had put it on correctly. In the end, I just wrapped the gown across my body and held it shut while I walked to the room where the gown didn’t matter anyway. This is what it looked like, only with two large breasts dangling in that gaping hole.

Too bad I couldn't have pulled off something like this:

After the procedure, I went to work. I work with a woman who used to work in a salon doing threading. Friday, she brought her thread and showed us how it’s done. She then proceeded to thread my eyebrows. Pretty cool! I guess I can cross those two things off my bucket list.

Full disclosure, this is not me.

My Phobia

2012-02-24T19:04:00.000-08:00

I grew up in a heavily policed environment. Grammar policed, that is. Not only did my mother correct my grammar, she followed each correction with the accompanying grammar rule.

“If I were… subjunctive mood.”

“My playing piano…possessive before a gerund.”

Today, in addition to my full time job, I grade students’ papers for a local university. This is my 3^rd term doing this work, and I have developed a phobia that has not yet been named. I know it has not been named because I checked the official list. Also, there is no Greek word for “mouse click.” After grading horrible paper after horrible paper, I have found that when I sit at my laptop about to open the next submission, I am temporarily paralyzed. I am seriously afraid of whatever is on the other end of that click. And rightly so. I mean, I shouldn’t have to tell graduate students things like “this is not a sentence” or “you didn’t actually answer the question” or “do not end a sentence with a preposition.” Maybe my 10 year old was right when he suggested more elementary school students should get left back…

People, use grammar check. Use spell check. Please! Pick one tense and stick with it for the duration of the paper. Stop using air quotes. Use punctuation marks correctly. Don’t change fonts or justifications in the middle of the paper. I could go on and on – ask my family, I have. I would love to post some of the most asinine examples, but alas, that would be wrong.

I wish my students would read my comments and learn from their mistakes. Dream on! I guess I just have to suck it up, deposit the checks (they go in the Bar Mitzvah fund, remember?), and fix myself another cocktail.

Get Your Own Money

2012-02-22T08:11:00.000-08:00

Like most of you, I don't have a lot of money. In the midst of making sure each bill gets paid, we are also trying to save money for my son's Bar Mitzvah. In order to pull off this shindig, Aaron has put us on a budget. Before you get all worked up, I will tell you now that I am fine with this budget. We do have to be frugal though. Luckily, I have one trick up my sleeve to get me through the month.

Me: I have a secret source of money coming in soon.
Aaron: You have to put it in the bank account.
Me: No, I don't, I have thought this through.
Aaron: Is it for your appointment?

Sidebar - I have a few Aflac insurance polices. I am a big fan, by the way. My cancer plan will not only pay me to have cancer (no, I don't see this as an incentive to take up smoking), but it pays me every year to have a cancer screening (pap smear, mammogram, blood screening, etc.). In fact, it pays everyone in the family once per year to have a screening. I have my annual appointment soon.

Me: Yes
Aaron: You have to deposit that money.
Me: No, I don't! If someone is going to stick something up inside me, I get to keep the money. If you want to have someone stick something up inside you, you can keep the money for that. You can have a colonoscopy, a blood screening, a chest x-ray, take your pick! But if someone is going to try to make my boob 2 dimensional or stick something up my vagina, I get to keep the money. Would you like me to post it to Facebook and see what everyone else thinks? You know they will side with me, and not just the girls either.

Aaron was effectively silenced. Oh, and guess what? I have my first mammogram on Friday.

Never Again

2012-02-19T18:15:00.000-08:00

Aaron does all the cooking. I can cook, but I have to have a recipe and I have to follow the recipe to the letter; I am a little OCD this way. Aaron on the other hand can take a quick inventory of the ingredients at hand and whip up something fabulous. He is a better cook than I am and he enjoys it, too.

Aaron does his grocery shopping in the same carefree manner. He walks over to the meat section, looks at the sales, and contemplates his next move. Not me. I need a list, a very specific list. It is these differences which led to some hostile conversations and my final drastic decision today.

Last week’s phone call from the store:

Aaron: Hello?

Me: [no hello] This is why I hate shopping for you.

A: [silence]

Me: This list has NO quantities on it. [In my very bitchy tone] Shall we go through it line by line?

A: [in his calm, nothing bothers me tone] sure

and I proceeded to go through the list, marking down how much ground beef, chuck steak, cream, etc. we needed

Next phone call, same shopping trip:

Aaron: Hello?

Me: I hate you right now.

A: [silence]

Me: There are 3 types of chuck steak here and the meat guy does not know which kind of chuck steak you meant for me to buy [yes, I actually asked him "What do you think my husband meant?"].

A: Hmm, get the boneless steak. I’ve never seen that many types there before. It’s not my fault.

Me: I don’t believe you [click].

Woman at the store next to me: What did he say?

Me: He said he’s never seen that many kinds of chuck steak before.

Her: Take a picture. That’s why I left my husband.

Me: But mine cooks.

Her: Oh! Mine didn’t cook. He would ask what was for dinner and when I told him it was chicken, he would tell me he didn’t want chicken. How’s your dinner now?!?

I left the store with the proper ingredients and amused by the woman at the store. I know it’s hard to believe, but I did move on. Until today.

Call from the grocery store:

Aaron: Hello?

Me: Can you guess why I called?

A: Are you just leaving the movie theatre?

Me: Guess again! I am calling from the grocery store wishing you were dead [I know, it’s overly harsh, but he knows enough to only half listen to me]. You said chuck roast. I see shoulder roast, top roast, bottom roast… [the list went on a lot longer than anyone who doesn’t cook would ever believe]. I have no idea what I am looking for. And when I asked the guy at the fish counter if anyone could help me, he said there was no meat guy here. I said, “there’s nobody in the whole store that can help me?” And he said, “No.”

A: If they don’t have it, then don’t buy it. [Aaron has no understanding of how stupid and helpless I feel trying to figure out all these different types of steak]

And I didn’t buy it. I eventually found ONE chuck roast UNDER the other roasts, but it was half a pound shy of what Aaron requested. Rather than buy it anyway, or call and ask him, I decided he could buy his own meat from now on. I came home and told him just that. And for the rest of the night, no matter what nice thing he did for me (and there were several), the gesture was answered with, “I am still not going to buy your meat for you ever again.”

I did, however, get him a beer from the fridge, which according to him makes us even.

Here's Hoping

2012-02-16T08:41:00.000-08:00

I was at the checkout counter and I said to the cashier, "have a good day."

Cashier: I'll try, but so far everything has gone wrong today.

Me (trying to be positive): Oh, well, it can only get better

Cashier (at the same time): It can only go up from here.

So, I'm thinking, okay, she's trying to think positively. Nice. I am walking away, my hand is on the door, when I hear:

Cashier: I have already called my therapist.

Here's hoping you have a better day.

Whitney Houston

2012-02-13T07:22:00.000-08:00

I don't really want to talk about Whitney Houston's death on Saturday. Instead, I want to give a shout out to those people behind the scenes that make everything happen magically.

For instance - every morning after a big snow storm (and thankfully, we haven't had any of those yet this winter), the roads are clear. Large elves (because the little ones wouldn't be able to reach the pedals AND see out the windshield) drive their snow plows all over town making sure we can drive on the roads safely. I love those people/fantastical creatures!

At the end of a televised sporting event, the network shows highlights from the game. Somewhere, a group of people are scrambling to create this montage during the game. I am not so technologically savvy, so this feat seems especially impressive to me.

The Grammy Awards were on last night. Not suprisingly, there was a tribute to Whitney Houston. Jennifer Hudson sang "I Will Always Love You." While the show aired, all I could think about was how people put everything together in just 24 hours. The musicians had to get the music. Somebody had to compile the photos and the videos. Did Jennifer already know the song? Was there a teleprompter just in case?

If you are going to die, please plan ahead. When someone famous has cancer, the media has time to create a tribute. When you die in a bathtub 24 hours before the Grammys air, you are inconveniencing a lot of people. Kudos to all those people who pulled off a good show (although, what the hell was Nicki Minaj doing and has she even seen the Exorcist?)!

Deep Thoughts

2012-02-11T18:28:00.000-08:00

My parents were Conservative Jews. My mother kept a kosher kitchen, which means that we had a set of dishes for dairy products and a separate set of dishes for meat products. My mother did not make cheeseburgers, meat lasagna, or pepperoni pizza.

Digression – My mother used to make homemade pizza, dough and all, but she did not have the proper bakeware for this project. Instead, she used the meatloaf pan, and the cake pans, and whatever else she could find. As a result, the pizzas came out of the oven shaped like rectangles or with unusually high walls; it was truly peculiar. Okay, digression over.

We went to services, but only on the High Holy Days, which for Christians is similar to going to church only on Christmas and Easter. Conservative services are 3 hours long and so very boring (for me anyway). There was something called Junior Congregation for the kids. The idea was that the kids would start an hour later than the adults and then join their parents at the end of the service. Instead, my mother dropped me off for the youth service and then went back home – lucky! There was at least one Saturday where I spent the whole time hiding in the bathroom.

I also went to Hebrew School where I learned how to read Hebrew and about the plight of the Jews. I had friends there and I was a good student, but I certainly didn’t love going to extra school. After my Bat Mitzvah, I was forced to continue my Jewish education by attending Hebrew High School. I hated it! There were twin boys in my class that were really, really odd (Sheldon on Big Bang Theory odd) that sat next to me. Plus, how much more could I possibly hear about the Jews’ suffering without going crazy?

I did experience a few enjoyable Jewish moments, like the time my friends and I sat around the college dorm room singing our favorite Jewish songs late into the evening. There was also the retreat I attended with some Reform Jews; and when I saw that Rabbi playing guitar, I thought, “well if MY Rabbi had done THAT, maybe I would have liked Judaism more!”

Later, I met Aaron, and although he was Catholic, we were perfect for each other. Since we were both teachers, we felt strongly that our future children should receive some type of religious education. I mean, how else would they truly appreciate the story of Joseph and his Dreamcoat? Since I was raised Jewish and since Catholicism has its roots in Judaism, it made the most sense to raise our kids Jewish. Besides, Judaism offers the extra perk of learning a new language. Done.

I knew I wanted to raise my children differently (translation – better) than I was raised. I knew that if I wanted them get the most out of this Jewish education, then I would have to take them to services more than twice a year. From the time they were babies, I took the boys to services most Friday nights, not because I wanted to go, but because it was my job to take them. The boys now attend Hebrew School and will be becoming Bar Mitzvahs in the next few years. I am a dedicated mother and educator, but truth be told, I was looking forward to the day the boys went off to college and I could be done with all this religion stuff. In what began as an attempt to establish connections and create more of a community for our family, Aaron and I have become very active in our synagogue over the years. Aaron is currently on the temple board, learning Hebrew and studying torah. I teach Sunday School and chair a temple committee. How did this happen?!?

Last week, we attended a Shabbat service that paid tribute to Debbie Friedman. It was one of the best services I ever attended. I was so moved that I nearly wiped my eyes with my scarf. I was never this emotional until I had children, and certainly never emotional during services. Weird. Two days later I was at the temple again teaching Sunday school and enjoying the company of some new friends. A couple of days after that I was back in temple joining yet another group (who am I?) and I noticed something… I actually like going to the temple now. It has become a place I choose to frequent not because I should or because I am setting a good example, but because I want to be there. It took me 40 years (biblical coincidence? It rained 40 days and nights while Noah was on his ark. Also, the Jews wandered the dessert 40 years before reaching the Promised Land. 40 is a big bible number) to get to this point, but here I am, and you know what? It feels good.

Superbowl XLVI

2012-02-08T10:03:00.000-08:00

After a very long weekend, I will now share my thoughts on this year's Superbowl.

1. I don't really care.
2. Why don't people know how to read Roman numerals anymore?
3. Madonna is aging very well.
4. Madonna, despite her aging very well, is too old to carry pom poms.
5. The gladiator thing was weird (but so are all halftime shows).
6. The "world peace" thing at the end of the halftime show was way too corny (but not surprising).
7. I'm glad it was a good game.
8. I'm grateful there were no sore losers at my house.
9. When the children say they can't eat anymore or they will be ill, I know I have done my job (it was a Superbowl/Birthday Party).
10. I wish the scheduling, commercials, and halftime shows were more child friendly, but I realize I may be overly sensitive on this issue.

It's the Little Things

2012-02-02T17:07:00.000-08:00

I don't know if you're like me, but (okay, wait, whom are we kidding? I have been told many times by many people that my brain functions in a unique and disturbing way) my mood changes significantly based on small moments throughout each day. I'm sorry, what? Did you just say you would like some examples? Funny, I just happen to have some for you right here:

Mood Killers

Honking - Shut Up! I am not going to run over Granny just because you need to go buy milk.
Rudeness - If you tell me you are going to pick up your kid between 5 and 5:30, do it, or at least call me. Don't just abandon your child with me (really Aaron) and make me (Aaron again) feed him.
Stupidity - We try to avoid the use of the 's' word in our house. We also point out that the people aren't stupid, their behavior is stupid. So, while I want to say that there are a lot of stupid people on this planet, I will instead say that there are a lot people doing a lot of stupid things. Stop it! You are annoying me!
Adolescence - my son's mood swings (and yes, they are different from mine because mine are well warranted) are giving me whiplash.
Rule Breakers - We have rules for a reason. I need order in my life. I need for you to need order, too.

Mood Makers (luckily, this list is longer)

Naps
Hot Baths
Soup
Chocolate
Sunshine and/or Warmth
Scrapbooking
French Horn Music
Manicure
Getting a ride to or from work
A spontaneous hug/smile/hand to hold
Projects at work that keep me busy (yes, really)

What goes on your list?

Weekend at the Cape

2012-01-29T18:44:00.000-08:00

I went on an overnight retreat last weekend. It took place at a hotel on the Cape right on the ocean. In January. Everyone kept commenting about how beautiful it was. Some women even went for a walk on the beach. In the snow. Sorry, but I don’t get it. I would have been just as happy at a hotel 5 minutes from my house, happier actually, because then I wouldn’t have had to drive 70 miles the morning after North Falmouth got slammed with 10 inches of snow. Next year, I’m hitching a ride.

It was a great time despite the drive and the snow. I felt a little like Norm walking up to the reception desk and hearing everyone call out my name. I met some lovely women, shared a lot of laughs, and learned some things, too. Okay, enough with the sappy stuff.

There was a speaker at the event and she took us through a visualization exercise. I am not good at visualization. I am not an out of the box thinker. So, when the speaker asked me to close my eyes and picture a specific feeling and where in my body it resides, I knew I was screwed, but I tried, I really tried.

I was sort of with her for the first few steps, but then she asked us to give this feeling a face/identity. Uh, yeah… no. I really wanted to follow the instructions so I figured I would just assign a face to this feeling so I could continue with the exercise, but all that popped into my head was a picture of the Mucinex guy.

Then, the speaker asked us to ask this feeling certain questions. Okay, really? I am supposed to have a deep conversation with the Mucinex guy? I don’t think so. That’s when I knew I was on my own for the next several minutes. What did I think about? I wish I could tell you it was something really deep, or that I finally figured out the answer to my sumo wrestler question. I don't really remember. Perhaps I simply formulated the grocery list in my head.

In the end, I'm glad I took part in the event and I am happy to be mucus free.

The Creature

2012-01-24T07:27:00.000-08:00

My mother used to make up the most ridiculous stories to creatively convey a message. She would tell us about the tiny people inside our mouth that destroy our teeth when we don't brush. She would tell us that she tried to buy us Doritos, but that when she turned to go down that aisle, there was vomit covering the aisle and she simply could not buy them. One time, she did make it to the Doritos display only to find that when she reached for the bag, it pleaded, "Don't Eat Me!"

Digression - There was the one time I thought I outsmarted her. My mother sent me into the store with some money and a list of three items to buy [no, it was not "a loaf of bread, a container of milk, and a stick of butter"]. I went into the store, bought the items, AND a bag of Doritos. My mother was not amused. She opened her window, right there in the grocery store parking lot, and dumped all the Doritos out the window.

Anyway, my point [hard to get to after two cups of coffee] is that, as I mentioned earlier, there are times I remind myself of my mother, like the time I explained adolescence to my son, Ben. You see, Frank was being especially difficult and we all noticed.

Me: Well, Ben, Frank is practicing for middle school (he was 11). It's like a transformer, only what's magical is that Frank transforms on the inside where we can't see. He transforms into a creature. By the time he gets to high school [maybe this is wishful thinking on my part], the creature either leaves or is tamed.

Ben's eyes are very wide.

Ben: That is NOT going to happen to me.

Me: Well, that would be nice, but it probably will.

Since then, Frank has named his creature. Voldemort. It's actually a great name because Frank looks a little like Harry Potter and so far I have been able to use the metaphor to my advantage. Here are some examples:

"Frank, only you have the scar; only you can defeat Lord Voldemort."

"Frank, maybe Voldemort doesn't like chocolate milk. You should tell him that you do and he should stop acting out because he is preventing you from getting chocolate milk in your lunches."

"That's it! I know Voldemort can't handle love. I am going to hug you and kiss you until all the love chases Voldmeort away!"

Right now, Frank is just 12, so the light-hearted approach is working well. I'll keep you posted.

By the way, for those of you who think I am out of my mind,
1) you have no idea...
2) my friend with her MSW assures me that it was a good idea to separate the child I love from the behavior I loathe. Feel free to try it with your middle schoolers.

Parenting Tips

2012-01-20T06:41:00.000-08:00

I am now going to share with you one of the best parenting ideas I have ever had. My children can earn additional screen time (tv, computer, video game) by doing household chores. For every room they sweep/mop/vacuum, they earn 15 minutes of screen time. This is a great system because our children are cleaning the house and also I don't have to pay attention to them when they are using their screen time (they haven't learned how to use the web for evil yet) - Win Win! The boys actually ask if there are any chores they can do; they like it! I even taught Frank how to do laundry. He gets 15 minutes for sorting it, 15 minutes for putting it in the washing machine, and another 15 minutes for putting it in the dryer. It has gotten to the point that he gets angry with me if I dare do my own laundry because that takes away his opportunity to earn additional screen time.

In the interest of full disclosure, I will now give you parenting tip #2. Children must be supervised when performing household chores. They will not sweep as thoroughly as you do, for instance (I will give you the benefit of the doubt here). Also, if you leave your clean clothes in a pile on the floor (Aaron!), your child might assume they are dirty (and rightfully so) and throw them in the washing machine. Do you see where this is going? Sometimes, they might fail to sort the clothes correctly. You have to check. Otherwise, you may be in Aaron's situation - his favorite, dry clean only sweater got washed on warm and thrown in the dryer, too. Now his sweater is much much smaller. In fact, it is now Frank's sweater.

I showed you mine, now you show me yours. Share your great parenting ideas with us.

P.S. You may wonder how little screen time my children get that they feel the need to do all these chores. They get 30 minutes on school days and 60 minutes on the weekend days.

Tuna Sandwiches

2012-01-15T12:26:00.000-08:00

Today I am thinking about one of those times I was sick and stayed home from elementary school. Even though I was sick, I was hungry and craving whatever was in my lunch bag, possibly a pudding cup. I grabbed the lunch bag and brought it to my room, ate the dessert, and I stuck the tuna fish sandwich, which was at least wrapped in a sandwich bag, in my dresser drawer. Yup, you read that right. At some point, my mother came to check on me and immediately noticed a strange odor. I denied it, but she knew what she smelled, and she searched my room (it didn't take long) until she found the tuna sandwich in my drawer.

My children also do stupid things and drive to me to drink on occasion. I find myself saying things like:

That is not toy. It is not yours. Put it down. [These are things like scissors, iPhones, cameras, etc.]
Why is there a glob of jelly on this homework folder?
Why is there a fruit cup on the stairs?
Why is there a half eaten granola bar on the floor?
Close the door!
Why is there a pile of dirt on my kitchen table?
Put on clean underwear.
Brush your teeth.
Bathe regularly.
There is a limit to how many clothes you can stuff in the washing machine at one time.
Clean out the lint trap, or else the clothes won't dry [we don't have a lint lizard, though it looks cool].

Obviously, with two boys and a husband, I could go on all day. Most of these quotes are from the last 24 hours. But just when I want to pull out all my hair or pour my vodka cranberry at noon, I think about that tuna sandwich, and I realize that child development is a process. Man, I hate processes!

Analogies

2012-01-11T11:46:00.000-08:00

My mother used to make the worst analogies ever. She and my dad would be lecturing me one minute and the next minute she would rambling about the most nonsensical thing in an attempt to prove her point. My dad and I would exchange baffled looks and then turn those looks to her. Finally, my dad had to admit that they couldn't present a unified front ALL the time.

Every now and then (almost daily) I am forced to admit there are ways I am like my mother. That thought occurred to me the other day when I was ranting about the orthodontist. I just cannot figure out why this process is taking so long. I loathe almost everything that is a process anyway. Tell me something needs to get done and I will do it. Don't tell me about all the steps we need to take before we can do it; I will get cranky. I also cannot figure out why the orthodontist wants to make sure we are all on the same page.

Me: I'm a teacher. What do I know about orthodontics?
Aaron: In this day and age, people want choices. They have done all the research on the internet and they think they have all the answers.
Me: Can you tell her that we are not those people? I don't know anything about such things and I would like to think I can trust the people with the degrees to know what they are doing.

It reminded me of childbirth. Some people favor the home birth. Some people favor midwives. Some women want to be part of the "magical" process. They want to see what's happening, reach down and touch the baby's head. Some women want the baby placed right on top of them immediately after birth rather than having the baby whisked away by some strange doctor. I, however, am not any of those people.

I don't want to see what's happening. I want a clean baby placed in my arms once the baby has been thoroughly checked for all its fingers, toes, and has an impressive apgar score. Let the doctor handle it; that's what (s)he gets paid for. I definitely did not want the mess, hassle, or unknown of a home birth either. And you know what? I don't want home orthodonture.

I dared Aaron to explain THAT to the orthodontist. I think he'll paraphrase.
By the way, I can feel the baffled look you are giving me right now. Don't worry, I'm used to it.

Aftermath

2012-01-08T10:24:00.000-08:00

Me: I'm going to buy eggs. Who wants to come with me?
Frank: I do!

We go to the store. I buy eggs. He buys candy - $8 worth of gum and ice breakers.

Me: I know you don't want to rehash last night's conversation, but this is one of those examples of your making bad choices [He thought he was old enough to decide for himself about the tooth. Yeah right].

Frank: It will last me a long time.

M: I don't care. You just spent $8 on candy; that was a bad choice. I let you do it, but it was a bad choice.

F: Studies have proven that chewing gum during school aids in concentration. Don't you want me to do better?

M: Oh, I'm sorry. So, if you chew gum, you will concentrate more, socialize less, and your teachers won't have to ask you to stop talking?

F: What?

M: Did you want me to repeat that? Did you not hear me?

F: No.

Then we had a conversation about what percentage of his teachers indicated on his report card that his talking was an issue and how big an issue it was. sigh. Later I will tell you about the middle school creature possessing his body.

Consequences

2012-01-07T10:47:00.000-08:00

Here's the back story. Once upon a time, my husband Aaron said a very bad word and my son, Frank overheard him. I was furious. I lectured Aaron and I'm sure sex was withheld for a period of time. That's it for the back story.

Frank is almost 12 and has had several appointments with the orthodontist. It has been over three months and Frank has been pulled out of school five times, and still the only thing they have really done is pulled a baby tooth. Yesterday, Aaron and Frank were with the orthodontist for an hour while she discussed possible treatment plans. I was downright hostile listening to the recap, because, as you may have figured out, I am not a patient individual. And while I am venting, why is she asking me what Frank's treatment should be? Doesn't she know?! Didn't she go to medical school?! Isn't that why she's making the big bucks?! I always knew Frank would need braces, but I definitely didn't realize how complicated the process could be. Anyway, I will spare you the particulars of Frank's teeth and I will skip to the end. Frank is going to have to have another baby tooth pulled. Why didn't they pull them both at the same time? Funny, the oral surgeon asked the same question. Have I mentioned how frustrated I am with this process that is only just beginning? Ugh.

Okay, really, moving on. Frank is more than upset about having a tooth pulled. Forget the fact he didn't know when they gave him a shot. Forget the fact he didn't even know the moment the tooth was pulled. He's scared and I sympathize. A little. Aaron and I tried to explain that the decisions we make are in Frank's best interest, but Frank doesn't care. He doesn't think anyone else will care either if he ends up looking like this:

Say what you will about not judging a book by its cover. Aaron and I are trying to do right by our kids to the best of our ability. Frank was sobbing at the dinner table and finally said, "you don't give a shit about me!" Wow. I never had a foul mouthed kid in my house before. This middle school thing is going to be quite an adventure. Now, we had to decide what his consequence should be. Your thoughts?

Remember the back story? Yeah, well Frank asked what Aaron's punishment was when he swore. Uh, he didn't get sex. So, am I supposed to share that with Frank? I don't think so. Frank said, "I know you didn't lose screen time because I saw you playing Fruit Ninja the very next day." I settled with, "Dad's punishment was age appropriate and would not be age appropriate for you." Good one, right? Aaron had trouble keeping a straight face.

After the drama, we went to Shabbat services. Frank decided to sit in the back corner of the sanctuary. The Rabbi called me over before services started. He had seen my Facebook status about making my child weep and was going to ask me which child until he saw Frank's seating choice. Hee hee. I asked Frank if I could sit next to him. To my surprise, he said "yes." I sat by him and tried very hard not to joke with him or touch him or interact with him. It was a big challenge. At one point, I thought I sensed a moment and put my hand on his back, but he moved away from me. Okay, he's not ready. By the end of services, he was reaching for my hand and laughing with me. Ah, a good parenting day. I can brag about them because they are so rare.

I think Frank is going to be okay in the long run. Luckily, they don't wear head gear during the day anymore. Remember this (16 Candles)?

Driving 101

2012-01-05T07:03:00.000-08:00

Among my list of wonderments is - why can't people drive? And why do said people get drivers' licenses? Here is a friendly reminder list of those things you once learned in Driver's Education:

The solid white line means you must stay in your own lane.
The turn signal is just that, a warning that you use to let someone know you are about to turn. Do not use it at the same moment you are turning - that is not helpful, but do use the signal.
If your wipers are on, your headlights should be on.
A solid yellow line means this is a No Passing Zone.
If at first you don't succeed (to park in between the two lines, and yes, we've all been there), try try again. Don't leave your car that way!

And finally, and most important:

Get out of my lane (the left lane, of course, the one for people who are driving to get where they are going, not simply to enjoy the scenery).

I know you have more. Please feel free to add to the list.

Debt Free?

2012-01-04T12:45:00.000-08:00

Today, I paid off my Masters Degree. Well, my husband paid it off; I don't know what I would do without him and his budget skills and I hope to never find out. Anyway, my degree is in music education. Currently, I am not even teaching. I looked for a full time music teaching job for 3 years when I moved out East. Those 3 years really kicked my ass. I don't know if you've heard, but this is a really bad time to be looking for work especially in a field as useless (obviously I don't think it's useless) as music. It took 10 years to pay off that degree and now my question is - was it worth it?

Sure, I learned some things. And yes, I was able to edit my husband's papers since we had the same professors. He went on to get a PhD and he uses his degree every day (and no, not as a paper weight - it is in a frame, otherwise that would be one really lame paper weight). So, maybe I'm the great woman behind the great man. Maybe I will go back to teaching someday. I know those that hope the world will right itself hope to see me back in the classroom. Who knows? In the meantime, that's one debt down and several more to go (you were paying attention when I mentioned my husband's PhD, right?). Now it's time to set that money aside for my son's Bar Mitzvah. More on that topic later.

Fate

2012-01-01T08:00:00.000-08:00

No, this is not a New Year's post. I do not really get into New Year's. Typically, my family stays up until midnight thinking (and also asking out loud) "is it midnight yet?" "Can I go to bed yet?" So, let's move on, shall we?

The other day I went to get lunch. Two doors down from the establishment is a Starbucks. Naturally, I contemplated stopping there as well. I figured I'd see how long it took me to eat lunch and how I felt afterward. Well, I came out of the restaurant and saw that a woman had fallen in the parking lot right next to my car. Don't worry, she was not elderly, and there were two men helping her up. In any case, I clearly could not walk past her subtly (I don't do subtle), plus I would feel like some scab passing a picket line. I couldn't really ask her to kindly get her ass off the ground so I could move my car. I mean, that would be rude. It did cross my mind though. Obviously, the universe wanted me to have a peppermint mocha. So I did. It was delicious.

And don't worry about the lady. When I got back to my car, she was standing upright and complaining about whatever mysterious object was hidden in the grass to force her to the ground. Happy New Year!

Wonderments

2011-12-30T11:08:00.000-08:00

My family was out of town last week and the stillness in my house was maddening. You know you must be desperate when the first thing you do when you're alone is to scrub the bathrooms. I found myself leaving the television on in one room and the music on in a different room just to simulate company. It also made me wonder more things that nobody else wonders:

What on earth do people DO if they either a) don't work or b) don't have kids? Please enlighten me because your answers must be better than mine - rip paper for Sunday school paper mache project, organize Sunday school lesson plan binder, dust every room of the house, watch Lifetime movies and infomercials, and go to bed early.
Will a plastic surgeon alter my ears so the @*&#* earphones stay in place longer than 2 minutes at a time? What's the going rate for such a procedure?
What is the deal with the one shoe laying in the middle of the highway - you know you've seen it, too.

Welcome to My Blog

2011-12-29T11:07:00.000-08:00

My sister keeps telling me I should have a blog and wouldn't shut up until I created one. Here's my first post and we'll see how it goes from here. Enjoy!

I should probably set the record straight from the beginning (that is the intent of the blog, right?). I am not a writer and I am not a blogger. For one thing, I don't believe in keeping a journal on the worldwide web for everyone to see. More importantly, the things that keep me up at night are not the things anyone else considers. You don't believe me? Here are a few blog topics I have pitched to actual bloggers without any takers:

What becomes of a bad sumo wrestler? No, really, think about it.
If technology is so great, why doesn't it just work? And why do IT people get so pissy when you ask them that question?
If I am always right (which I am), why don't more people listen to me?

There are others, but I don't want to peak early. After all, this is just my introduction.