Parent Pill

Driving Crazy

2014-11-03T13:19:00.000-05:00

I got my license on the day that I turned 16 years and 6 months old. The exact day.

I happily stood in the long line at the Registry of Motor Vehicles just begging for the opportunity to drive a stick shift in the snow and parallel-park on a steep hill in a car with iffy brakes. Still, it couldn’t come fast enough for me. Freedom from the 10-speed bike!

But time moves on and things change, and by that, I mean we parents are complete suckers. Or at least I am. My daughter is in no particular rush to get her license because she has the luxury of being chaffeured around to wherever she wants to go, at the moment the need arises. Walk? You must be joking. It’s so hard to take a decent selfie while walking. And sometimes you get tired.

So, we’ve got the learner’s permit and the driver’s education classes have begun. I even had the pleasure of attending the parent class and sitting through two hours of a retired state cop explaining, in painstaking detail, the seriousness of each motor vehicle infraction and the virtues of green driving. My husband was conveniently unavailable for that honor.

He is available, however, to take my daughter driving. I am making darn sure of it because I am no longer available. Or willing. Truth is I’m a miserable excuse for a driving instructor. I become a monster, really. I’m like Simon Cowell during the “American Idol” auditions using phrases like, “That turn was miserable!” “What a dreadful stop!” and “Are you serious? You call that driving?” You can imagine the response I get. We come back like bloodthirsty gladiators ready to fight to the death. It’s a great mother-daughter bonding experience.

Dad, by all accounts, is much more patient. He can bite his tongue and say nothing when she rolls through a stop sign or forgets to use her blinker or misses the brake pedal entirely. He can ignore her looking at herself in the visor mirror or singing loudly to a Sam Smith song or waving to a cute boy on the street. Mom just doesn’t have that kind of self-restraint. Or enough medication.

But at least I know my limitations — I am not meant to drive with a permitted teen. Ever. In fact, I would rather ride the Green Line naked at rush hour than drive with a permitted teen. It’s that bad for me.

By all accounts, not mine, my daughter’s driving abilities are coming along nicely these days. My husband said she is getting more confident and skilled; she actually knows which way to turn the wheel when she is backing out of a parking space. This is progress, trust me. She has even asked if she can drive on a few occasions, just never with me. (As Simon would say, “It’s a no for me!”)

So time moves forward, and the day is coming — not the actual day, of course — she could have had her license six months ago. But it’s coming in a maybe-sometime-relatively soon sort of way. And I have to be ready because my daughter believes that when she returns home with said license in hand, there will be a brand-new, shiny automobile waiting for her in the driveway, maybe with one of those big red bows like you see in the commercials. There are probably some puppies and rainbows in this fictional scene, as well.

I told her there is a much stronger likelihood of a beat-up minivan sitting under a cloud of dust that she can occasionally borrow. Hey, not everything is like the fantasy version. Better to learn now.

So another milestone in our household has arrived. It’s bittersweet to see my daughter poised and ready to take on adult responsibilities. And my role is to continue to push her out of the nest with the greatest of care. Knowing she’ll soar to great heights. Whether on foot, train, plane or even in the beat-up minivan.

Oh, the places you’ll go. Oh, the places you’ll go!

The Dirty Truth

2013-10-12T08:53:00.002-04:00

Hey, it's a long weekend...no work, all play. What do you want to do today? Apple picking? Topsfield Fair?Hey, how about 14 loads of laundry? Doesn't that sound like fun?

When you live with 2 high school age teens, the equation looks something like this.

1 day x 4 wardrobe changes x 2 rejected outfits x several pairs of yoga pants that were worn for 27 minutes each x my sister's clean clothes that "fall" into the hamper = "I don't know how we have so much laundry, mom! But it's definitely not our fault."

Sound familiar to anyone? I have tried every imaginable tactic to fight against the assault. I have tried making my daughter's do their own laundry. Don't even ask how that went (said the mother in the too tight sweater). I have fined them for putting clean clothes in the laundry. I have threatened to take cell phones away and I have ranted until I couldn't stand the sound of my own voice.

I'm still losing the battle. I'm ready to beat myself over the head with a bottle of fabric softener.

So I guess it's time for some guerilla warfare. (And a lot of Tide and Wisk). I figure what my daughter's don't know won't hurt them and I'm sure they have this same philosophy with me so...right back at ya!

I am now doing midnight runs and taking things out of the hamper, folding them, and returning them to their drawers. (minus the underwear of course, that would be just gross). But jeans, sweaters, towels - yup, they are all fair game. I figure two can play at this game. Childish? Maybe.Hey, I don't mind doing laundry but washing clean clothes or entire outfits that were worn for 43 seconds is just silly and time consuming and certainly not cheap when you get the water usage fees. Then there's the societal guilt that is imposed when you get the electric bill that says that you use way more energy than your "cost-efficient" neighbors. They even give you the little graph with the line that is way above the rest that is marked "YOU" (you gluttonous pig).

Gee thanks for that. It's quite an honor to be me.

I know that my approach would qualify as bad parenting and here's the thing: I don't really care. If it frees up time for me to watch a movie with my husband or have a glass of wine, well sign me up. I mean I love my kids madly but I'm not going to let a couple of teens take the spin out my cycle.

There it is: the dirty truth.

When you give a mom a muffin. Sass!

2013-01-14T16:30:00.000-05:00

My teenage daughters have made it painfully clear to me that the language they use should in no way ever be adopted, uttered or even alluded to by anyone "old" which is like over the age of 30, a demographic I have belonged to for quite some time. They use words like "awk" and "sass" and others that I can't pronounce or spell and definitely don't want to know the meaning of.

The problem comes when, after hearing the word 5,342 times, you find yourself quite mistakenly using the term in public. Like say, at the Dunkin Donuts drive through. But in my defense, they didn't have any pumpkin muffins. And I really wanted a pumpkin muffin because when you give a Mom a muffin, well Lord knows what can happen. Next she wants a latte or a Pomegranate Cosmo or just a little respect.

Anyway, upon hearing that my order could not be filled, I reacted with a vociferous response which may have included the word SASS! I regret such response and am wholly sorry for the embarrassment that it inflicted on both myself, my children and my unborn grandchildren. But it came out nonetheless and I still didn't get my damned muffin.

So I think I've been banned from the drive-through...any drive through. And that may just save me some cash in the long run. Sass!

Am I Crazy or is Everyone Else?

2013-01-03T12:42:00.001-05:00

I often ask myself this question - the world seems a universally nutty place these days and I yearn to just slow it down! Why are we moving at the speed of light? I want to enjoy the here and now but I haven't seen it in years.

Working on a book on this topic of running at a frenzied pace. I am about 30 pages in and hope to share at least the introduction with you to gauge interest.

From what I hear from most of my friends - they are all feeling it too. The thing is we have to agree to rachet it down together. One person who slows down gets trampled. Know what I mean?

Well, Happy New Year everyone. Wishing you a calmer, more peaceful year.

Mac n Mouse

2012-09-06T07:25:00.001-04:00

Hello friends,

I've finally come around to the thinking that our family needs a Mac. You see we've been a PC family but that's not working out so well any more. After visiting my girlfriend in New York this summer and playing on her Mac I realized why the Apple store looks like a techie playground every time I walk by. I want to play too!! Pick me, pick me!

These things can do everything but call you baby...wait, we have Siri for that. (she calls me Sexy Hot Mama). It goes over well in client meetings at work. But I digress.

I want a Mac and one of those fancy Mac Mouses with no discernible buttons to click. It's like livin' the dream really. So that investment will be our capital improvement project for the year. Yes, we need new garage doors more but can they make a movie with those fancy swipes and dissolves? I think not.

On a separate note it is my Katie's 15th birthday today...sniff. Hard to believe my girl is a young woman now and I'm so proud of who she is turning out to be. Strong, confident, smart and beautiful on the inside and out. Yes, she still loses everything and has to be dragged out of bed for school and can definitely hand out her share of sass- but all in all, she's a good one. I think we'll keep her. Happy Birthday honey.

Time to get ready for work. I have to save for that @#% Mac!

Just keepin' it real!

Toasting Fall

2012-09-01T22:00:00.000-04:00

It's back to school time and I think I'm the only mother who is ready to throw confetti at the bus when it arrives and toast the driver with a big mug of kahlua coffee...ba-bye suckers!

As a working mom, I find the summer to be pretty challenging. As much as I welcome the warm weather and summer activities, I crave the predictability the fall schedule brings. My oldest, Katie, is going into high school - that's me and my girls to the left. Hard to believe but I'm excited for the confident young woman she has become. She will be a great success - if she can figure out how to open her locker. She had a bit of a problem with that during freshman orientation (hey don't judge, they didn't have lockers at her previous school, or desks for that matter...crap, she could be in trouble).

So we've done the mandatory school shopping and got all the "must have" items. Sperrys - $85; Toms - $45; Hollister jeans - piceless. And the clothes were the easy part, the school supplies were the real ball buster. I think I dropped a couple hundred dollars at Staples. That was easy! I'm sure the graphing calculator is a good investment since there are plenty of opportunities to graph linear and exponential relationships in your life.

So the craziness just transforms from summer crazy to fall crazy...but it's all nuts just the same.

RIP to my Uncle Fred - he was someone who had true grit. I will miss him. I am working on an e-book and he has inspired one of my chapters...more on that later. Keep checking back often and remember to "join" my site. Enjoy your weekend everyone. More tomorrow.

Scavenger Hunt a Tell-Tale Sign of the Times

2012-08-30T07:04:00.001-04:00

Hey friends,

So this past weekend we did a mall scavenger hunt for my daughter Emma's 13th birthday. If you're wondering - what the hell is that? - you are not alone since I had no clue either. I think she got the idea from some website called CoolParties.com or KidsWhoHaveSuckersForParents.net. Something along those lines.

At any rate we had about 10 tween girls running through the mall in 2 teams - getting pictures with sales clerks, trying on silly outfits, posing with mannequins and dancing through stores...you name it, we did it. And you know what, it was actually a blast! The girls were well behaved and really good sports. The most fun was coming home and creating a slide show of their adventures. Hilarious. This picture is in response to the challenge of getting every team member to where a shirt with a different animal on it. Clever. My daughter is second from right with the giant Hello Kitty shirt (and no we didn't buy it).

What amazed me most though is what little effect we had on the people around us. I expected strange looks and befuddled glares (which there were some) but really, most people just kind of ignored our craziness. This to me, is a sign of the times. We live in such a whacky world that girls with matching bandanas doing a conga line through the Apple store did not raise an eyebrow. In fact, no one looked up from their devices!

This is truly a mad, mad, world. It's sort of frightening isn't it?

Have a great Thursday...
Sue

Back by Popular Demand...

2012-08-28T20:53:00.002-04:00

So...I've been asked to rerun this column and I do so graciously...enjoy!
P.S. I think the shine has worn off our friend, Siri, don't you?

Siri, we need to stop meeting like this!

I have been known to poke fun at those folks who are hopelessly addicted to their electronic devices, staring maniacally at the tiny screens as if held in a virtual trance. I scoffed at the weary souls who seemed more likely to walk blindly into traffic than miss a text message extolling the virtues of the latest YouTube video gone viral.

I am now laughing from my glass house.

Realizing you are one of the very people you used to ridicule is a sobering event. It occurred recently during a Bunco game at a friend’s house that included twelve of my friends and neighbors. After spending a full 30 minutes with our phones out, discussing the pros and cons of “pushing” versus “fetching,” it occurred to me – I was an electronic-dependent drone; no better than any other afflicted individual.

But I blame Siri – she is an enabler.

Who can resist the temptation of talking to a virtual assistant and seeing just what she knows, how much she’ll do and if she really has any game. Like a 12-year-old, I had to test her limits. I had to ask ridiculous questions like “How old are you, Siri?” and “What’s your favorite color?” By the way, she doesn’t know how to say her favorite color in our language but it is a deep green but with more dimension. (Go ahead and ask; you know you will.)

Um, everything...nothing...anything...go away!!

I must admit that I just got the iPhone recently so it is still like a new toy; but one that talks, texts, calls, plays music, gives me directions and even calls me “Sexy Hot Mama.” Look, you can program her to call you anything you want, what did you think I’d do based on my 12-year-old mentality? It can be embarrassing when she refers to me by name when I am in a meeting at work though. Of course I just blame it on my kids. “Oh! My girls are always playing with this silly thing!”

Now I have pretty strict rules involving electronics in our house but I never thought that I myself would struggle to follow them. There are no electronics after 8:30pm – no Facebook or texting or playing Spider Solitaire even when you are just 10 points and 3 moves away from beating your personal best score. And you shouldn’t sneak and play Spider Solitaire after everyone goes to bed. That would be sad and pathetic.

The worst part about this situation is that this is merely the tip of the proverbial iceberg. I don’t know a fraction of what this remarkable little contrivance can do and I’m fearful of what I may learn and the power that information will have over me. I mean how long can someone resist “Doodle Jump” and then what? Even Siri can’t bring back the countless hours lost on such frivolity.

I knew I had a problem when I recently lost all 258 of my saved contacts. Since there was no backup assistant activated that could help me, I became so infuriated that I actually considered dropping to the floor and kicking my legs in protest. I was able to get myself under control just as they were ushering me out of the building.

There is road rage and then there is this. What is this exactly? iRage?

Either way I think I need to start a support group and I already know quite a few people who might qualify but I will refrain from calling them out. We could practice things like speaking in whole sentences, resisting the urge to take pictures of strangers and deleting LOL from our vocabulary. We can also identify questions that are inappropriate to ask Siri including: “Who’s your mama?” “How much wood could a woodchuck chuck…” and “What is the meaning of life?”

By the way, according to Siri, here it is: “Try to be nice to people; avoid eating fat; read a good book every now and then; get some walking in; and try to live together in peace and harmony with people of all creeds and nations.”

Wish there was an app for that! Thanks, Siri.

Could have, should have, would have...

2012-08-24T09:29:00.000-04:00

Not in the mood to be funny today because I just found out my uncle had a stroke last night and it's pretty serious. He's the oldest brother of my mom and like a patriarch in her family. Really sucks to see such a vibrant guy get leveled like this. I am praying very hard that he comes through.

He is a big fan of my writing and has sent me many notes over the years. Most recently, I was planning to send him a compilation of some of my columns and never got around to it. The crap of every day life got in the way and now I regret not connecting back with him. Why do we miss key human interaction because of the minutia? I wish I knew how to prioritize better, how to "get around" to that stuff before you realize it could be too late.

Damn.

I'd work out more if...

2012-08-22T21:58:00.001-04:00

I've said it before - I don't have the "workout" gene. I just can't seem to get my head around the idea that there are some people whose day isn't complete unless they go to the gym. So my question is...am I weird or are they?

I can find lots of ways to cap off a good day that have nothing to do with a treadmill, set of weights or sweaty gym socks. Working out is opting for physical exertion during your leisure time. Seems like a bad idea to me. I understand it's good for my health but so is hummus and I tend to shy away from that.

I think I would work out more if I was a guy. Seriously. And it's mainly because of the hair and make-up thing. Workout, shower, dry off and put your clothes on. No hairdryer or lip primer needed. If I was a guy I would be really in shape.

Here are a few other scenarios that may entice me to work out.

1. Serve cocktails...before, during and after the workout.
2. Don't have people that look like Jillian Michaels serving those cocktails, or within a 10-mile radius.
3. Have a stylist on hand that will apply my make-up and give me a blowout before I am thrown back to the wolves (that would be my kids).
4. Make treadmills that won't let you go faster than say, a 20-minute mile.
5. Have live band performances.
6. Have someone at each machine that compliments you every 2-3 minutes. i.e. "You look so skinny," "Do people confuse you with Jillian Michaels?" "You are hot, hot, hot."
7. Turn off the lights so no one can see what I look like in the spandex shorts.
8. Turn off the machines and pretend there is a power outage and we'll all just hang out and drink those cocktails you are serving.
9. Have the clocks working at double time so that our hour-long workout lasts only 30 minutes.
10. Have the scales set to -20 to start. No explanation needed there.

So, if anyone out there can create a gym like this - I will be your best customer! Otherwise, I'll be drinking a martini and eating nachos while I contemplate my next pretend workout phase - P90X, Bikram yoga, SoulCycle - bring it on!

Is that all?

2012-08-19T11:05:00.003-04:00

Teenage daughter to mom:

"Do we have anything else going on today, I mean besides going to see Billy Elliott at the Opera House?"

Wait, is that all she thought we had up our sleeve? Pffff. Come on! We'll drive into town in a limo, meet the stars backstage for a personal autograph signing and come home to One Direction playing in our freaking back yard.

Sorry hon. That's all we had on tap for today. Bummer. Our kids don't get anything good.

A Wrinkle in Time

2012-08-16T21:04:00.001-04:00

Hello Pill Fans,

Just back from a few days in Newport, Rhode Island with the family including my hubby, Tom, and daughters Katie and Emma. The girls - who are 14 and 12 - love to take my iPhone and document our trip with Facebook posts, texts, and pictures with captions like "I'm with Stupid" and "This is SO College!"

All was going well until I spotted a picture of myself and was horrified to discover that I actually look like that middle-aged mother I swore I'd never become. I just woke up one day and there she was. And now when we go away, my personals bags with all my creams, make-up and medications takes up more room than my clothes and shoes combined. And I bring a hell of a lot of shoes.

What's worse, every time I try to take a picture of someone ELSE with my phone, the darn little button that controls the viewer is turned on me and it is really frightening. Is it me or is the angle really bad (please tell me it's the angle). I'm wondering what Gisele Bundchen looks like when this happens. Oh damn it all, we all know the answer to that one.

Why am I feeling so old all of a sudden?? Maybe it's having a kid going into high school. That sure gives you a jolt. Ah well, nothing we can do about it unless I invest in some costly "maintenance" procedures and I don't think I'm there...yet.

Love this picture of Tom and girls
because I'm not in it!

Rx for the day: Stop obsessing about looks and learn how to crop yourself out of family photos.

Lost in New York

2012-08-09T20:49:00.001-04:00

Mama got a day pass! Actually mama got a weekend pass! This is highly unusual but daddy will be in charge while I visit a friend in New York City this weekend. My girlfriend is single so I have a nothing-matters-but-shopping-and-eating-and-martinis-and-manicures weekend. I love my family but the timing on this couldn't be better since juggling summer camps and my work schedule has made me a wee bit cranky of late. (translation: I've been a royal bitch).

I will go out on a limb and say that my family members will not be weeping as I drive away.

Thankful for girlfriends today. Will post some pix over the weekend. Stay tuned!

High School Flashback!

2012-08-08T14:28:00.002-04:00

Wanted to share my latest column that appeared in the Newburyport Daily News today...

My high school reunion is coming up in October.

I don’t want to reveal the number of years it’s been since I graduated, but just to give you a general idea, my friends and I were watching “Dynasty” on television, going to see movies like “Porky’s” and listening to “My Best Friend’s Girl” by The Cars on an eight-track tape. Our go-to outfit included stirrup pants and sweaters with those really over-sized shoulder pads. Add a neon Swatch and some Keds and we had quite a look. You might call it Madonna meets Molly Ringwald with a little Sarah Jessica Parker mixed in — prior to her “Sex and the City” era.

Reunions always bring to the surface that familiar emotion: sheer terror.

It’s like you immediately revert back to your hormone-charged, intellectually vapid teen years when you cared more about how you looked than, well, anything. Let’s just say I missed the whole Cold War era worrying about whether my clogs matched my Chino pants. I didn’t know who was president when I was in high school, but I could tell you which boy was the high scorer on the basketball team. Well, I could have back then; Lord knows I can’t remember now.

So it’s surprising when that same feeling comes back so many years later. What will I wear? What will people think? Will I look old? Will I recognize everyone? Will the food be any good? Look, in high school we thought a lot about food and that is one thing that hasn’t changed. The point is those same adolescent insecurities can creep up on you at any age and it tends to make you realize how fragile our egos really are. Every few years I still dream that I forgot my high school locker combination — and then I remember that our lockers didn’t have combinations.

Truth be told, no one is as cool as they pretend to be in high school. Everyone is navigating the same shark-infested waters just trying to figure out how to leave with a diploma, a couple of good friends and at least a shred of dignity.

We have all spent the last some-odd years creating lives. We’ve established careers, had families and pursued passions. And yet, when we come together as a group, all of that fades into the background and our one common denominator rises to the surface: We are all getting dreadfully old. OK, that aside, it’s that we all cut our teeth in the same place. We took driving lessons together, muddled through chemistry together, cried over a breakup together and got our first paying jobs together. (Bill Gates rule No. 5: “Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity.” No, but picking tobacco really stunk.)

We journeyed together through some formative years. We looked to each other to establish what was “normal,” how to fit in and how to ultimately move forward in a world we knew virtually nothing about. And if you’re anything like me, still know nothing about.

Still, we made out OK. Each of us took a different path and some of us chartered new ones. Some of us stayed close to home and others moved thousands of miles away. But, beneath the surface, as different as our lives might look, we all share common roots.

The heart of what makes us who we are started in those hallways and classrooms and even on those team buses. (Although I won’t go into detail about the buses.)

I guess going to your high school reunion is a little like looking into a mirror. The people there will know us in a way no one else ever can. They have a window into our lives that no other person, not even our own spouses, can access — which many might argue is a good thing. Regardless, these are the only people who might not know what we do for a living or how many kids we have, but they can remind us where we came from. And we all need a little of that from time to time.

Now, if I could just stop having those dreams about my locker combination.

Not a Candy Apple Kinda Day

2012-08-07T21:39:00.000-04:00

Today just sucked. There is really no other way to position this. It was poo.

Bad day at the office and jealous of my non-working mom friends who could enjoy a day at the beach or the park or anywhere that didn't involve clients and emails and the run on the little hamster wheel of life.

Do I sound bitter? Ah, it's not really that bad. I only work 3 days a week so it could be worse. For those moms or single dads who work 5, I don't know how you do it. Truly. Especially in the summer when if feels like everyone is on vacation but you.

But now I get to spend some quality time with the girls watching Dance Moms. That could cheer anyone up. Sorry but the show is so mindless and entertaining, who can help but indulge? Maddie and Chloe and the whole gang - and we can't forget Candy Apple lady. Kathy I think it is. Yup, know the characters on Dance Moms but not sure where Latvia is on map. Not proud of this.

Why am I already ready for school to start? I crave a break in the schedule and then just a few short weeks later I long for the predictability of a set routine again. I can't seem to win. Ah, heck, tomorrow is a new day.

Motivate Me!

2012-08-06T22:31:00.002-04:00

So who's going to comment and give me crap when I don't post? I need just a few loyal followers to keep me motivated to update this blog nearly every day, even when my lazy arse is too tired. That's right. Who's up for the challenge. Comment here and let me know.

This is a random picture of me in Mexico drinking a pineapple drink that looks like a monkey. I posted it because....I can.

I need you guys...who's in?

Can you hear me now?

2012-08-06T16:31:00.001-04:00

My 14-year-old daughter just returned home from overnight summer camp. After not speaking a word to her for two entire weeks, she spent the hour ride home maniachally checking Facebook friend requests and counting the number of texts she missed that indicated all the exciting things her friends were doing while she was away like walking around downtown and ordering FroYos. I continued to chat away, trying to extract just a little bit about what had gone on the prior weeks but she was not engaging. I wondered if for the better part of a decade she had tuned out my every word.

But then there was an epiphany of sorts. At a block party the next day she actually told me that even though she thinks I'm overprotective at times, she actually thinks that the limits I set for her are probably good ones.

Whaaaaa? She's been...ah...listening? Who the hell would have known? Certainly not me.

I guess this generation is great at multitasking. In my daugter's case, she can be watching Dance Moms, posting something on Instagram, using an app to grossly distort a picture of her best friend and, just possibly, absorbing a kernel of what I'm saying...

I think I heard a choir of angels but I quickly snapped out of it just before she told me I was embarassing her for some arbitrary reason.

That said, I still haven't figured out how to get her to listen enough to make her bed or pick up a wet towel off the floor. Baby steps, mama.

Summer "Haze"

2012-07-23T21:14:00.000-04:00

As a working mom, the summer brings its challenges. This is code for my life is one hot mess right now. Just throw a big top over my house and queue the circus music. I don't have to tell you who does the juggling clown act.

I'm generally a pretty organized person but it sucks to discover at 11pm the night before you're bringing your daughter to summer camp that you forgot to have your doctor fill out the health form. Crap! Nothing like emailing the pediatrician at midnight asking for a favor. Thankfully, she came through with a note - and on a Sunday morning. I owe her something for that...I think she'd probably ask that I delete her email from my address book.

To make matters worse, and on the same evening, our smoke alarm in the master bedroom began to "chirp" loudly at 4:30 am. Since we have a cathedral ceiling in that room, hubby decided it would be too difficult to fetch a ladder and instead headed downstairs for the couch. My daughters didn't hear a thing over the peaceful humming of their air conditioners. I squeezed my head between two pillows and hoped for the best. My misshapen head and the bags under my eyes the next morning were proof that my method was the least effective.

At any rate, my oldest is off to camp for 2 weeks and I'm already missing her. Kind of like in a relationship; the things that drive you crazy when they are here are the same things you actually miss the most when they are gone. Well except the singing to Keisha's "Grow a Pear." I definitely don't miss that.

So now I get to figure out how to manage my younger daughter's schedule which includes indoor skydiving and tubing down the Saco river all the while I'm not doing anything as remotely fun. I also have to work in sending letters and care packages to camp, supervising the summer reading list, and managing a portfolio of clients who don't give a rat's ass about the summer reading list.

I guess I have a love/hate relationship with summer. I love the weather but sometimes hate the unpredictability of the family schedule. And I don't know if it's me but it always feels like everyone else is having the best, most carefree summer of their lives while I'm just managing to tread water. In fact, it is just occuring to me that there must be a slew of forms to fill out for that upcoming skydiving trip.

Don't have a clue where the paperwork for that puppy is right now. Queue the circus music again.

Missing Geoffrey

2011-12-01T12:09:00.000-05:00

I never thought the day would come that I would actually miss standing in line waiting to wrestle down another cantankerous mother for the final Tickle Me Elmo doll. But the day has come. I miss Suzie Cries and Burps. I miss the Great Big Toy Book. I even miss Geoffrey the giraffe.

As frenzied as that scene could get, it was basically one-stop shopping. Fill the cart with toys, get your free plush toy and arrive home just after narrowly escaping death at the jaws of the colossal SUV careening around the corner to get your space. Winning!

And at the end of the day, you felt rewarded for your selfless act of heroism. On Christmas morning, your child would be enchanted by the array of gifts that included moving parts and blinking lights and all those ear-piercing, thunderous sounds that came from nebulous mechanisms that never included a volume control.

But, that is no longer our reality.

I can't even hope that the hot toy of the year will be one of the Black Friday early-bird specials, so I can get up at 3 a.m. to fight the good fight — coffee in one hand, stun gun in the other. Uggs and North Face jackets rarely go on sale. Neither do iPhones or trapeze lessons. There's also a request for a Hollywood agent at my house this year. That should be easy to find.

Where's Geoffrey when I need him? Heck, he probably has a good agent.

Satisfying the perceived crucial, but grossly artificial, needs of tween and teen daughters goes way beyond a keen eye for a good bargain. You need to have a strong stomach, an athlete's endurance and a wallet that would make Warren Buffett blush. And if you are uneasy about shopping in a dark room with loud music and perfume that intermittently blasts at you from secret portals, you might be the lamest parent ever. You probably don't even know that beach vintage is so chill right now.

Here's the silver lining: Fewer toys means that playrooms are becoming obsolete in the homes where these Crombie-consumed kids reside.

Do you see where I'm going with this? This is our golden opportunity to depose the current power and take back the space that is rightfully ours. How much room do you really need to text and Skype your friends on your swanky new iPhone? While their fingers do the talking, I'll be walking to the nearest furniture store to buy my new leather sofa and big screen TV.

But we are not completely heartless. My husband and I have decided that we will allow the kids into our adult playroom on occasion — but only with the appropriate security clearance and password. They also have to vow — in writing — to never watch an episode of "Good Luck Charlie" on the new television. That would just ruin the whole vibe. (Not so chill, if you know what I mean.)

In the meantime, I have plenty of holiday shopping to do, and none of it includes talking dolls or stacking blocks or choo-choo trains with square wheels. You really never appreciate any stage of parenting until you are deeply entrenched in the next painfully agonizing — and much more expensive — chapter.

In the end, the gifts will still be under the tree, the kids will still be thrilled with their new-found trove of treasures and as in years past, we'll be broke and exhausted but secretly elated to watch our kids' faces light up on Christmas morning.

But I really do miss Geoffrey.

Embracing Healthy Living

2011-12-01T12:03:00.000-05:00

After years of resisting, I am finally heeding all of that unsolicited advice my mother has been doling out over the years. I am experiencing a rebirth along the likes of when Jan Brady decided she'd become a brunette and try out a new personality on "The Brady Bunch." Minus the wig.

I am exercising regularly, taking supplements, moisturizing, exfoliating, waxing, flossing, hydrating, stretching, meditating, reflecting, plucking, rinsing, coloring and car Kegel-ing. Some of you ladies will know what I mean by that. And apparently, there's an app for that.

The problem is the time it takes to do this little regimen of activities — or rather how little time is left for doing the things you enjoy, like eating or sleeping or getting a root canal.

I've got to think that a boatload of fish oil pills isn't doing much good if I'm getting three hours of sleep a night after wrapping up that entry in my gratitude journal. Oh, I'm kidding about that part. I don't have time to be thankful; I'm much too busy softening my cuticles and doing my pistol squats.

But I am determined to see if the experts are right about how all of this healthy living will positively impact my life expectancy. By my calculations (interpret as what I've been able to Google in the past 2.5 minutes), here's what I can expect:

According to MensHealth.com, Italian researchers found that eating as little as one cup of raw vegetables daily can add two years to your life. Another study found that those who nibbled nuts five days a week earned an extra 2.9 years.

Australian researchers suggest having a large network of friends can rack up as much as seven additional years. And in a Yale study of older adults, those with a positive outlook on the aging process also tacked on seven years compared to those — like me — who view the aging process as a slow and painful descent from a gorgeous grape to a rotting raisin.

But there's more.

According to an article on health.com, a daily handful of dark chocolate and almonds, some fruits and vegetables, garlic, fish and a glass of wine can increase life expectancy by 4.8 to 6.6 years. (I'm thinking the chocolate and wine will put me closer to the high end of that range). If you engage in moderate to high intensity cardiovascular exercise five days a week, you're looking at another two to four years. And mental exercise, just keeping your noggin active, can yield another two years. If you can do the "Challenger" Sudoku puzzles I think you might live forever.

And you know why your dentist has been nagging you to floss all these years? Turns out there is something about that annoying waxy string that, when used daily, can tack on up to 6 additional years to your life. I have been flossing for three to four hours a day to make up for lost time.

So, if my calculations are correct, and they generally aren't, then I figure I can live to be approximately 118 with just a few minor adjustments to my living habits that include not doing anything that I currently do.

And think of all the perks to living that long: I'll be able to tell you if global warming is fact or myth and if the flying car thing ever comes to be. Well, maybe not you, per se, but I'll be able to tell some other manic flosser.

As I'm writing this, I am preparing to go to the gym. It's Saturday. I'd rather be sleeping or shopping or even cleaning my house. But Jan Brady can't adopt a new personality without a little work behind it. And it hasn't been easy since, like Jan, the reaction I've been getting from my friends and family is not ideal.

And by not ideal, I mean they are laughing, pointing and taking bets on how long this whole experiment will last. My biggest supporter only has five weeks up on the board.

I'm going to prove them all wrong. I'm going to beat the odds and implement some serious, long-lasting change. I'm heading out for a good long workout this very minute — as soon as I finish eating my Pop Tart.

When in Rome

2011-10-17T08:00:00.000-04:00

Not my husband - but you get the idea

So my husband is traveling this week and telling us just how much of a burden this will be for him. He will miss us terribly while he is watching HBO in a quiet hotel room waiting for room service to arrive. It is a cross to bear, but he assures us he will make it through ... somehow.

It pains him to leave us, but his bag is packed two days ahead of time, the itinerary is posted on the bulletin board and I think he called the airlines a half dozen times to be certain there are no delays or cancellations. He is planning on arriving at the airport four or five hours in advance because of all the security — you can't be too careful these days.

He will miss all the dance and gymnastics classes that "we" (and I use the term loosely) need to shuttle the kids to; all my gourmet Hamburger Helper meals; all the lunch-making and homework complaints; all the bickering about the excessive texting and time on Facebook; all the happiness that fills a home in which two middle-school girls reside. Can you say estrogen overload? OK, now say it while having a hot flash and watching "Dance Moms." Fun!

Look, I know traveling can be exhausting, but so can refereeing an argument between your 14- and 12-year-old daughters who are doing a little "smackdown" to see who gets to ride shotgun.

It's hard trying to determine if you should keep counting to 10 or untangle the hair that is now wrapped around the emergency brake handle. Sometimes I could use another judge. But alas, he's busy enjoying all that extra leg room in business class.

So I will trudge through the week, waiting for his calls when he reports that he only has a few minutes to talk because the champagne reception is about to begin. That's brutal. Who wants to go to something like that when you can be home checking your kids' Language Arts journal response? I'm so glad I don't have to travel for work. Way too hard.

Since I don't want him to miss out on all the one-on-one parenting fun, I am planning a girls' weekend away. I don't want to go — I will simply sacrifice myself so that he, too, can soak up the joy that eludes him during these obligatory business trips. I will call him before I have to go to the silly spa to see how things are going. "So sorry, honey, Felipe is here. I really wish I were there to see the music video the girls produced to "Boom Boom Pow," but I have to get this massage over with. Adios, mi amor!"

He'll hang up thinking how awful it must be for me and how guilty he feels for having so much more fun. Then he'll hit himself over the head with a hammer.

For those of you who are thinking I'm being sarcastic or facetious, you must have teenage children and know a little bit about the family dynamic that is so "special" at this time.

It is hard to be away from people who think you don't know anything and that you embarrass them with every spoken word. It is difficult to leave such wise young sages. How did they get so smart at such a young age?

But somehow my husband and I muddle through life, even when they can't be with us to guide the way and help us avoid doing foolish things, like walking beside them. I know what you're thinking: "But how? How?" It's not easy, but sometimes I rely on things I learned before having kids. You know, just some silly stuff that I learned from all those years in college and the 25 years of real world experience that I have. It's not much, according to my kids, but I get by.

So time is running short as my husband is packing some last-minute items for his trip — a good book, his iPod and his workout clothes. I will slip in a picture of the family so he won't forget all the fun he is missing.

Poor guy.

Apples to Oranges: What I Learned From Steve Jobs

2011-10-06T16:00:00.001-04:00

Wow, it's amazing what you learn about someone once they've passed. I knew that Steve Jobs was a visionary, inventor and technology genius. But he had so much more to his story that is so fascinating in the lessons that it teaches. I am mostly struck by some of the twists and turns in his career that ended up serving him so well in the end. The so called "failures" that lead you to take new risks and uncover new opportunities.

It's something that is hard to teach our children I think. How to fail gracefully and learn from our mistakes. How to pick yourself up, dust yourself off and find ways to be stronger and better and even more successful.

Here's an exerpt from his speech to Standord graduates a few years back...

..."I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life..."

(later in the speech and quite eerie I might add)
"Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart..."

"...Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."

Good words to live by...Is there an app for that?

Rest in peace Steve Jobs and thanks for all you have contributed to society. Here are 100 more things you didn't know about Apple and Steve Jobs

Self Esteem - What Parent Has Any Left?

2011-08-09T11:30:00.000-04:00

Hi all,

A little tired this morning because I was at the Hampton Beach Casino last night seeing Melissa Etheridge perform - she is amazing! Still rockin it at 50 and plays for almost two and a half hours. No warm-up band, no back-up singers, no fancy choreography or light shows. Just Melissa and her guitar. Incredible.

Anyway, I could use a pick me up today. Feeling like the not-so-subtle signs of aging are creeping up on me and my kids feel compelled these days to comment on all of my physical flaws. My double chin, my scaley legs, my small chest, you name it. Kids have absolutely no concept that one day they too will succumb to these things. Ignorance truly is bliss. I long for that naivity sometimes - that feeling that time moves on but that you will always stay exactly the same.

Here are some of my favorite recent comments that are making me reconsider cosmetic surgery...or boarding school for my kids:

"Oh yuck, my legs are going to have big pores like yours!"

"Do I have a chin like ... (with a tone of disgust)...yours?"

"I like your mushy stomach because it's so comfortable to lie on."

"Mom, let's face it (looking at my chest), you never really sprouted, did you?"

"Sometimes I get those lines on my forehead that you have all the time."

Yeah, that'll make you want to open a vein.

Good thing I have a healthy sense of humor and a stocked liquor cabinet.

More tomorrow...

Sue

What I Did When My Kids Were at Summer Camp

2011-07-28T16:30:00.000-04:00

Hey everyone...So both of our daughters are away at overnight camp this week (one stays for an additional week but let's face it, as soon as someone's home, the party's over!!) Here's just "some" of what we did:

Went into Boston and ate at an expensive restaurant the kids would have hated and stayed overnight in a hotel.
Rented an R-rated movie that we watched at the early hour of 8pm
Went out with my girlfriends to see Bridesmaids
Went to a mall and didn't once step foot in Aeropostale, Abercrombie, Hollister or American Eagle.
Looked into clean bedrooms with beds made - several times.
Didn't say "get off your computer" or "stop texting" even once
Didn't watch Nickelodeon, Disney or TLC's Toddlers & Tiara's
Got a pedicure and had my toes painted bright pink!

So there you go. Did I miss my girls - of course!!

But I have to say it was nice just being a grown
up and taking care of ourselves for a week.

Adult camp rocks.

When did I become the no-talent ass clown?

2011-07-21T23:12:00.001-04:00

My kids used to think I was the coolest, smartest, hippest mom on the planet. Now they sneer at me as if I'm some no-talent ass clown that somehow stumbled into their otherwise perfect lives. They remind me on a daily basis that I do everything wrong, that I know absolutely nothing about life and that I wear my underwear too high because you can sometimes see it peeking out above my super ultra-low rise jeans - the ones that look soooo adorable on me according to the 17-year-old clerk at the Gap who I'm quite certain wouldn't know a pair of Prada shoes if they kicked her in the ass. Sorry, I digress...

I don't seem to know how to text fast enough, walk far enough away from my children in public, sing on key, or that every body is wearing string bikinis and has a Facebook account when they are 13. I am clearly way behind. What's worse is that when my daughters have friends over I sometimes breathe out of synch, say something really embarassing like "anyone want ice cream?" or suggest they go to bed at 3:30am. What a mess I am.

So what do you do all wrong as a parent? Please let me know so that I can enjoy some fine company here on the island of misfit parents. Leave a comment below in the brown box - just hit the red "comment" and join me!!

My daughter doing her rendition of
"I Whip My Hair Back and Forth:
And she think's I'm weird?