Joys of Single Motherhood

April Showers?

2017-04-25T09:51:00.000-07:00

The rain is still with us. I am applying for full-time jobs. It's a sobering venture. I just finished an application for a traditional publication--very old, very respectable. The last question asked if I'd be willing to take a lie detector test...

What would those questions be like?
Do you appreciate the advantages of wearing supp hose at all times?
Does "how to keep pesky kids off your lawn" appeal to you as a story topic?
Should people keep ferrets as pets?

Off to wash the dog. Really. He's stinky.

Happy 2017

2017-04-17T08:03:00.001-07:00

I was just reading my last post from 2016.

What has changed? My son is now stable and for now his depression is gone and he is doing well at his school. He has discovered a love of history--finally an interest we share. And he has also discovered that he enjoys writing. Big reveal there.

Part of his teenage rebellion or his MI has always been disdain/contempt for his parents' journalism careers. Kid 1 is an excellent writer. Kid 2 has struggled. He still refuses to use any punctuation. His teachers informed us at last month's conference that he doesn't need to use punctuation on the state finals in June. In other words, it won't count against him.

As a journalist I'm appalled. As a mother, I guess I'm relieved and guilt-ridden. How the heck does a kid graduate from high school without knowing any punctuation?

Re: rebellion, or in this case discerning mental illness from obnoxious teenage behavior. Showering regularly is still an issue. We go along with an "every other day" schedule and then gradually that routine is tossed. He doesn't know why. I asked.

This is the second school he has been at where hygiene is an after thought. I have learned however that the less disturbed the child is, the cleaner that child is. I asked him once out of general curiosity, why is it that the mentally ill resist bathing? He didn't know but he did see the correlation.

So is not washing a manifestation of his mental illness or is it stubborn teen behavior? IDK. When the kids were newborns, I had this odd notion that years later they'd be able to explain the crying jag on October 22, 1997 or the decision to eat Lego blocks on December 22, 2004. Ridiculous but my ex had to point it out. I have the same unrealistic hope when it comes to Kid 2. "So why did you decide to give up painting and creating War Hammer figures in favor of "Diablo" back in April of 2017? He doesn't know now and won't have any insights in five years either. So it goes.

2016-09-09T07:55:00.001-07:00

Long time lapse...

A lot has happened since the last time I wrote here, Kid 1 happily starting sophomore year of college, no more house--yay, new school for Kid 2 that just might work.
I don't feel like a single mother as much anymore. It's just Kid 2 and me in a spacious two-bedroom apartment. Actually, I have no idea if it's spacious. It fits us and it's larger than an RV, so its fine.

Like many single people at this stage of life I've decided that dating/men isn't worth the trouble or the distraction. I seem to always choose badly and experience isn't making that any better.

We have a dog now. Impossibly cute Havanese who is now 7 months old. I had heard people say that a dog is like another kid and I guess it's true. But this one doesn't need a college fund.

Launch Time Count Down

2015-05-16T10:41:00.001-07:00

My star child turns 18 at the end of the month. She is finished with high school and she starts an internship on Monday. Seniors are required to do an internship 20 hours a week until graduation on June 20. A design company called "Project Gravitas", they make custom dresses for women who want to be taken seriously in the workplace. That's the "Gravitas" part. The lead designer is an FIT alum so she had a head start. Well, actually she didn't need a head start because this is the first time they've had an intern.

She is very excited. They let her "help" the last time she was there and apparently she'll be doing the stuff she is interested in. Figuring out a creative-office wardrobe for a 17-year-old is turning out to be rather difficult. Banana Republic is "dumpy" as is J.Crew for the most part. Vince and Theory are great but their prices are not so great even on Poshmark.

Shorts, not skirts, probably not dresses. No Bermuda shorts--"I don't want to look like an old office lady." In other words, anything that Miss Hathaway would even glance at is OUT. I secretly ordered a pair of JC khaki Bermuda shorts because I know that one of these mornings after all of her newish work-wear is on the floor or under her bed, I will hear the plaintive wail of the disorganized (read:slob) teenage fashionista--"What am I going to wear???" Then I will appear--magically sort of--and produce the dreaded "long" shorts. She'll groan but she's likely to wear them. I smell victory on this one.

What To Wear or Not

2015-01-28T18:54:00.001-08:00

Kid 1 and I have discovered a web site called Vinted where women--mostly 17 to 35 can sell the clothes in their closets that they either don't like anymore or don't wear. Some of the items are hilariously hideous and the manner in which photos are taken can be even funnier. There are
manikins that have huge breasts, droopy breasts or strange postures and poses. One "Vintie" puts her clothes on a voluptuous half manikin that is either naked on the top or bottom depending on the item. Another puts dresses and tops on a hanger topped with a realistic cat head that looks like it was cut out like a paper doll. It appears to be a brindle.

Anyway, it's voyeurism at its best but I find that aside from striped sweaters and jeans nothing catches my eye. I don't know what I want to wear anymore or how I want to look. I hated the high boots with skinny jeans look that hung around forever. I thought that trend would never die. Most everything I like now is sort of preppie like how we dressed as teens. I am wondering lately if women and maybe men slowly regress in their dress. Maybe we will all end up in what we wore when we were twenty. But in a bigger size.

Basketball Twenty Years Later

2014-12-18T15:55:00.001-08:00

I played three on three basketball yesterday morning. I think I last played about 20 years ago. The good news is that I can see the floor better, meaning I can anticipate and react faster. Mentally that is. Physically I am a bit of a wreck. I can't really run because of my back so instead I try to skittle as fast as I can from one basket to the other. I can't jump higher than about six inches but that may be my utter lack of conditioning. As for shooting--I had no muscle memory of even how to shoot. I had four points but only because I flung the ball upward while I stood under the basket. Today I woke up and the only thing that isn't sore are my hips. I had a blast and my surgeon reassured me this morning that unless I run two marathons a month or do something similarly bizarre, my hips will be fine. Basketball, volleyball, biking--it's all okay. After we played b-ball there was a holiday party hosted by the amazing woman who makes all the weekly arrangements for soccer (indoor right now), volleyball and basketball. It was great. All we talked about was athletic injuries and how we compensate for them. Also, lots of amusing but valuable advice for how not to aggravate existing or old injuries. When I was young I loved all sports with a ball except golf. It was great to be out on the court again. I must get the talented b-ball kids across the street to take me in hand and help me to recreate a credible shot of some kind. Otherwise I did pretty well. I am adding volleyball next week.

Holidays Are Horrid

2014-11-25T09:41:00.001-08:00

I hate holidays. I try not to for the kids' sake but other than their birthdays, I would sit them all out. I think they're a waste of resources--and not just money. There is wrapping paper, those annoying and eternal styrofoam inserts and those stupid plastic price tag things.

My ex grew up without any holiday celebrations including his birthdays. His "off-the-boat" Irish parents worshiped frugality. They viewed those who wasted money buying gifts as fools.

The worst part is that the entire rest of the world takes holiday weeks off. That means that all the people you have calls into will not call back until you are REALLY on deadline. Grrrrrr.

Easing Into Adulthood With Common Sense and A Flat Tire

2014-11-18T08:32:00.001-08:00

I've not felt much like being funny lately. I think I'm indulging in "Empty Nest Syndrome" early. I like to get a jump on things--mostly negative things. The other day Kid 1 took her 9-year-old charge to the aquarium in Connecticut. They had a nice time until the car suffered a flat tire on 95 between exits.

She called me sounding calm and asked "Mom, how do you change a flat tire?" Proud of my independent, capable daughter I replied "you take it out of the trunk under that felt lid and the jack is in there." Then I realized that at 108 lbs. soaking wet she wasn't strong enough to wrestle the full-size spare out of the trunk. Still reveling in my pride I said "Just get Alex to help you lift it out". With the slightest edge of incredulity in her voice she said "I can't let Alex out on the highway. He'll wander into traffic. (The "you must be a complete idiot" was the subtext.) "Don't we have AAA?" (I should add here that Alex is a wonderful, bright child who suffers from extreme ADHD (unmedicated) and also Asperger's Syndrome (undiagnosed). Upon exiting the car, the first thing he would have done was get hit by a car or two or three..)

"Um, no. But I'll call and join and have them send someone right away!" So I did. I foolishly thought that I could pay $75 and have someone come out and change the tire. Nearly $200 later, the AAA guy was on his way. Why was it so much? Well, I had missed the "sixty day renewal period" but I had not missed the "sign up and need same day service" or the "extra charge for putting Kid 1 on her own card", etc. etc. At that point though, if the nice helpful man on the other end of the phone had said "that'll be $4000", I'd have said "sounds good to me!". Soon after, Kid 1 and Alex witnessed a car accident involving three vehicles occur about 100 feet in front of them. What are the odds? The nice AAA godsend guy came by and said "I'll be right back, I have to help them first." Sigh.

When Kid 1 returned home, she had a splitting headache and was just about to be late for her library job. I had called to inform them while she was stuck on the highway. "I kind of don't want to go now." So I called again and again outlined the sad saga of Kid 1's flat tire experience. They clucked in sympathy and excused her for the day. I explained to her that every driver on the face of the earth had suffered through the flat tire experience at one time or another. And that it always sucks.

"This is one of those things about adulthood that isn't in the manual," I explained helpfully. Then I told her how proud I was that she stayed calm, hadn't dissolved in tears and hadn't let Alex out of the car to 'help' with the tire. I didn't really say that last part out loud. Kid 1 is practically a grownup and it was a good thing this time but I doubt this sort of maturity will make me feel any better next September.

Cats Rule

2014-10-08T16:02:00.001-07:00

The kids and I agreed to care for a friend's Shiba Enu puppy for three days last week. I don't whether it's the dog, the owners or the breed but holy crud, what a nightmare. Moody, unpredictable, easy to displease, snappish and hyperactive, it was cute only until his family left. Oh, and completely untrained except for relieving himself, at which his performance was flawless. And he slept well at night, in his big cage in our basement. We are still glad he's gone and Roger has finally recovered his equilibrium. No more thoughts of doges for us.

Older v. Younger, Boys v. Girls---And the Very Bad Outfit Day

2014-09-16T07:36:00.002-07:00

It's rainy and cold today. Kid 1 left in a funk due to a "Sartorial Misfunction". I had put away the winter clothes including all black long-sleeved tops and she desperately "needed" one this morning. I suggested she put on a burgundy crew neck instead, which she did. Whoops. Wrong suggestion. Unfortunately, this looked worse than the Eileen Fisher cardigan (which I've had since before she was born) she'd had on over the original outfit. But now it was too late to change back. What she required was a scoop-neck top. "Why did you put away all of my sweaters and long-sleeved shirts??" I reminded her that last week we had temperatures in the 80s but she claimed I was mistaken. I guess I was guilty of "misremembering". I told her I'd find the right top and bring it up to school. I went down to the basement and unearthed it and texted word of my triumph. In return, I got back a text that read "It's okay. Don't bother. I don't need it." Feeling incredibly virtuous, I texted back "Are you sure? I don't mind running it up to school." I'm almost positive she'll continue to demur. My daughter was born level-headed.

Immediately, after I dropped off Kid 1 this morning, I popped across the street to see the world's cutest 22 month old. Adorable Baby No. 4 greeted me with a huge smile and a tiny hug. He was totally unconcerned with his outfit. For the record, he was wearing tiny cargo shorts with a coral colored Vineyard Vines polo shirt. Never mind that. AB#4 was busily perusing a huge Richard Scarry book that features worms driving "Apple" cars. I got down on the floor with him and we practiced pronouncing words including "pickle", "watermelon" and "squash". It was definitely therapeutic but after a half hour my lower back started muttering so I got to my feet and came home. And hunted down the "right" black top. Which now she doesn't need..

I got to thinking about a momversation I had yesterday with a friend, about the block party her neighborhood had this past weekend. The neighbors are all young with adorable young kids. My friend is my age and fortunately there is one other mom with "old kids" like ours. She said "we felt like such dinosaurs with our huge, ugly kids". I know the feeling. Although, at least our huge, big kids can see reason. No tantrums over juice boxes or unwanted naps. Just regrets and self-recriminations some days.

The College Talk Blues

2014-09-11T12:46:00.001-07:00

I hate "College Talk". This is Kid 1's last year of high school and I am already dreading the many "momversations" I'm going to be lassoed into this year. This is a rich town with super competitive parents and kids. Everything is a contest. SAT scores, how much a parent spends on tutors, how many schools your kid is applying to, which schools your kid is applying to, blah, blah, blah. It bores me silly. Actually, I find it irksome. Extremely irksome because I don't care. For whatever reason--I guess I'm insecure--I resent the assumption that I'm going to take part in this insane senior year ritual. Because I'm not. We're not. We don't have a quarter of a million dollars to spend on some private college which will pretty much guarantee that Kid 1 will be unemployed after graduation. And the truth is, if you think sending your kid to any small, expensive private college for four years is automatically worth the money, I think you're an idiot. A well-heeled idiot but an idiot nonetheless.

A week or so ago, a mom was telling me about how they'd hired an educational consultant to advise them on whether their child in his junior year should take the SAT or the ACT exams. I feigned interest. I wanted to stick my fingers in my ears and sing off-key like Mork. "I don't care. I don't care. I don't care," or maybe "neener, neener, neener".

Talk to me in February. Tell me where your child is going and I'll be genuinely interested and happy for you and your kid. Until then, spare me your angst.

Seeing The Nice Flyover Spaces

2014-08-04T09:01:00.002-07:00

My kids left on July 26 for a road trip to Tuscon, Arizona with their father, their step-mother, their adorable 4 year old half brother and their profoundly dumb--and I don't mean bark-less--Wheaten terrier. All of them in a Honda Pilot. They drove the mid-southern route: Pennyslvania, Virginia, Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, New Mexico and finally Arizona.

I'm afraid that at least via phone the most insightful comment on the trip so far is "the desert goes for as far as you can see and then it's just mountains". That was from New Mexico. From Oklahoma he said "everyone is fat and they smoke". He said this without disdain and with a bit of awe.

It has been twenty years since I drove across country but I believe that everyone kid should do so. Every person actually. I was lucky. I went to college in the midwest and driving two or three gigantic states across wasn't unusual for us. We called it "car camping". I was always fascinated by the differences in the landscapes and the regional differences in the accents and the people themselves. I wondered whether the kids would notice any perceptible differences in the people. They did. Kid 2 is now telling everyone he is moving to Tennessee as soon as possible because the people are "really nice.". I am hoping my kids found it fascinating beyond descriptors like 'nice', 'fat' and 'nicotine-dependent'.

At the same time, they are Californians at heart. On Wednesday, my two kids will fly to Bakersfield to visit with my old college roommate and her husband for a couple of days in the Central Valley. Then they will be driven back to Bakersfield and Kid 1's beloved former nanny and my former copy editor will be flown to Big Bear Lake. If that sounds like more than one person it's not surprising but that's a story for another time. Syd left the journalism and nanny businesses long ago and has worked as a commercial pilot for years. Now she flies and writes wonderful young adult fiction. She will pick the kids up in Bakersfield and fly them to her home in BBL. Kid 2 gets to play co-pilot and he is thrilled. Next week the two of them will fly home to New York via US Air. Quite an adventure. I am grateful to their father and his wife for making it possible for the kids. There are times when my ex-husband is pretty great.

Hospitals Are Boring

2014-07-26T13:36:00.001-07:00

It is late afternoon on the second Saturday of my convalescence here. I am bored beyond words. I am so bored I just took a selfie. Then I spent five minutes editing it. It made no difference. I still need major Restylane and even then I look like my mother. That's the key--I look like my mother. Now, if you have a classically beautiful mother--most of us don't-this realization may be pleasing. For the rest of us, it's terrifying. I look like a slightly less wrinkled, definitely better coiffed, less crazed version of my mother. My hip incision is better looking. Sigh.

I Have Two Shiny New Hips

2014-07-15T18:03:00.001-07:00

I am writing this from my hospital bed.The surgery went well. Both legs and knees feel better already. I am able to bend my right knee completely and when I do I can feel a lovely gliding sensation as the new joint does its duty. My butt muscles are sore from being cut just a little bit. Surgeon says his technique separates as few fibers as possible. He likens it cutting flank steak. Incisions look great and except for soreness in spots, the overall pain is minimal. I suspect I will wake up very sore in the morning. Second day onset and all that. Hospital experience has been fantastic so far. While I was waiting to go into the OR this morning I chatted up my surgeon after he mentioned that today is his daughter's birthday. Talk about a family business--his wife and all three of his kids are doctors and they are the fourth generation of doctors in the family. I wonder how common this is and how it affects the practice of medicine in this country?

Countdown to Tuesday's Double Hip Replacement Surgery

2014-07-13T19:04:00.001-07:00

Tomorrow is my last day of 'freedom'. My last day of not having to worry that if I move the wrong way my hip will dislocate and my hardware will pop out. After tomorrow I'm hoping my back and knees will stop feeling stiff and sore but I wonder if I will feel better immediately or will pain from the operation cancel out any immediate improvement.

And most importantly, will I feel like a robot when much of each leg isn't really 'me'.

On Thursday, Kid 2 and I ventured to the hospital to have the last of the checklist items crossed off pre-surgery. Kid 2 was my wheel man, meaning he pushed me in a wheelchair from admissions to the 4th floor Ortho floor, then down to the lab, then to radiology. It took about four hours. I thought it would take 90 minutes or so.

The "Joint Class" took up most of that time. There were ten 'patients' and an equal number of family members stuffed into a small conference room on the Ortho floor. Getting everyone out of their wheelchairs and into regular chairs so that we could all fit in the room took ten minutes. The modern wheel chair is three feet wide and is built to accommodate any 300 pounder--male or female. Kid 2 quipped that when he looked back to see the parade of us as we rolled up to Ortho, it looked like a flotilla of wheeled whales. Somehow he headed up the group. I think because he was pushing me as fast as he could without wiping us out. He had to have his fun. He was very patient for the most part. More patient than I would have been at his age, that's for sure.

Tomorrow we look at a prospective school for Kid 2 and I do a slew of annoying household tisket taskets that will bring everything to a halt if I leave them undone. Like refill the hand soap dispensers for each bathroom and get their father to restock the toilet paper. Stuff like that. I am dreading returning home already.

Another Summer, Another Vaccination Records Request

2014-07-06T18:06:00.001-07:00

Some parents hope their children will grow up to be doctors, lawyers or hedge fund managers. I want my kids to grow up and take charge of their own lives and of their own vaccination records.

Kid 1 starts off a month of pre-college classes tomorrow. And what did she need at the last minute? An up-to-date copy of her vaccination record. Say what? When is she going to be old enough NOT to need her vaccination records? I picture her at 35 with two tiny kids clinging to her knees. She is on the phone--with me--asking if I have a copy of her updated vaccination records.

Hopefully I will be unable to take that call because I will be on a fabulous trip with a man who keeps his own vaccination records on a microchip implanted in his groin. Mine will be in my purse along with those of my kids.

Kids One Is Now A Licensed Driver

2014-06-03T14:38:00.001-07:00

Kid One now has her license to drive. This morning at 0830, she passed with flying colors. Pretty much. Actually she screwed up her parallel parking but the nice lady let her try again and she did fine. The first time she took it in January the parallel parking exercise was the only part of the test that went smoothly. She is thrilled. It's going to cost just $50 a month to insure her. I can't believe how little it's going to go up. One of those rare instances where the Internet is saving me money instead of eroding the value of my labor. Yay!

Spring Cleaning

2014-05-25T08:39:00.001-07:00

I am trying to clean house, the upstairs in particular, before surgery on July 15. But wait you say, there is plenty of time. Why now? Because I clean slowly. It's hard to clean when you can't bend, swivel or kneel without pain. And apparently it's also hard for me to clean when I don't have a boyfriend or at least that's the conclusion I'm drawing based on the amount of dust I just found under the bed.

Mother's Day and Dad's Dog

2014-05-11T06:36:00.001-07:00

It's Mothers Day and I am about to drive Kid 1 over to feed my ex-husband's dog. This is the ex-husband whose wife does not speak to me. I find this amusing 99 per cent of the time. Today I am low on gas and as Queen Elizabeth and I like to say "we are not amused". That's the only downside to pet sitting gigs for Boy Child--the price of gas.

Hipster

2014-05-08T19:03:00.003-07:00

Never mind the locusts. On Monday I have having lithotripsy to hopefully pulverize an 8mm stone. Wherever it has been hiding out down there, it picked a comfy spot. I haven't had much pain or discomfort for the last week and a half. I know it's there though. It does play Peek-a-Boo every few days. I am aware of it right now. There's a squinchy sensation and I have the merest hint of heart burn even though I haven't eaten today. I'll be glad to have it gone.

Then it's on to the hips. I need them replaced. Not sure about the right one but the left has apparently been bone on bone for some time. I see an orthopedic surgeon with an excellent reputation on Thursday.

The Locusts Arrive on Monday

2014-04-16T20:30:00.001-07:00

In November I had shingles. I got off pretty easily and I was surprised by the number of people who were instantly sympathetic--very sympathetic. Hell, even my crusty blue-blood editor expressed concern. The shingles went away in about a week and the pain was mild.

In December, the week before Xmas I broke my left fibula near the ankle. That was only painful when I fell off my crutches--usually on the grand granite steps leading up to friends' big houses.

On Thursday last, I woke up at 0300 in the worst pain I have ever experienced. It was centered on the left side of my torso, right over the kidney's territory. I changed positions in bed. No change. After ten minutes I knew I needed the ER.

Sure enough, it was a kidney stone . It was located high up and it was large. Very large. Again people-mostly nurses--were instantly sympathetic. "Kidney stones are more painful than childbirth." I heard this a half-dozen times.

I have no experience with the pain of childbirth. I had two scheduled C-sections with epidurals so I had nothing to compare. As I was writhing on the gurney waiting for the morphine to kick in I had an uncharitable thought "wow, childbirth must not be that bad if this is really worse."

Shingles, a broken bone with full cast, and now a kidney stone. Locusts are probably next but I'm betting they'll compare favorably with the broken fibula. Can't be worse than childbirth.

What Are You Doing In There?

2014-04-03T19:08:00.001-07:00

My daughter takes the world's longest showers. It must be genetic. In the good old days when her father and I were married we hosted many parties. He was always still in the shower when our guests started to arrive. It drove me nuts.

And now I am my own father because I'm the one who pays the water bill. I hate to waste water and a shower longer than five minutes is practically criminal in my book.

Like my father before me I have been known to rap on the door and "That's long enough! Get OUT of the shower!" But no more, because it's scary. Kid 1 told me this morning that when I yell like that, it scares her. And she was so upset the other morning that she cried. I remember being startled by my father's hollering but I never cried. I hadn't remembered that feeling until this morning--being scared and then rushing to finish.

So no more yelling about showers. I felt awful that I'd made her cry. It never occurred to me. I find it difficult sometimes to know when to treat my teens like babies and when to treat them like young adults. I suggested to her that she and her brother have small signs that they could hold up so I'll know. One side would say "Baby" and the other would say "Grownup". That way I'd know how to react. The trouble is I think they'd be just as conflicted as I am sometimes. Is it a "baby" moment or a "grownup" one?

When The Kid Swerves Away From Your Plan

2014-04-01T13:53:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about the idea of kids as "projects"--the idea that at the age of 16 or 17--your child is basically a small adult and as such your child-raising project is finished. The kid is on his way into the real world.Your job now is knowing when to let go and then letting go.

Kids this age are busy with life.There are college applications, class schedules for next year, landing a part-time job, figuring out the summer internship, etc. etc. And for us at least, those decisions are Kid 1's to make. She just got her SAT scores back and she did well. She has always done well on standardized tests and from the time she was little I knew that her SAT scores would be high. I was right. The best part is that I got to say "I told you so" and she didn't roll her eyes. (Her success is due mostly to a genetic quirk, that's all. For some reason, she intuitively picks the right bubble to blacken. Her father has the same odd talent. Go figure.)

We know we're lucky. She developed a passion for art and design a long time ago. She knows where she wants to go to college and she knows what she wants for a career. She knows it's likely that she won't ever make a huge salary and she's okay with that.

But I know parents who are struggling right now with their kids' nascent career hopes or lack thereof. Their kids are swerving from the path their parents imagined for them and that creates hurt feelings and grief. As a fellow parent I have empathy. It must be hard to cope with the sudden realization that your kid will likely not turn out the way you'd planned. That that straight trail from good grades in high school, entrance to a fine private college or university, then entrance to a fine graduate program and then on to a highly paid position at the right company, isn't the path your kid wants to take. Your kid's ambitions are different than yours.You thought they were the same and 'Surprise!', they're not.

That's when you may wish for one of those uber obedient kids who always does what mom and dad want.

The mom who says "you must play ice hockey" and the kid plays hockey; "you will play lacrosse and soccer" and voila, the kid takes on both. Music lessons? Yup. Choir, boy scouts, etc. etc. The kid always goes along with Mom's plan without complaint. And it often pays off. Kid 1's friends are getting college acceptance letters right now and one friend is headed off to an Ivy League school. But it's kind of a joke. Sure, the kid is bright and he has activities galore on his resume but it's Mom who engineered every minute of this kid's high school "career". As Kid 1 says wryly, "Danny and his mother got into Yale".

How do you get kids like this? I sure don't know. Kid 1 is just as mystified as I am by these kids. It seems ideal but it also seems presumptive and controlling and creepy, somehow. How does a kid know what he wants to do if he's simply following a script? Does this kid marry a woman or man who carries the same script? Or does he tear up the script when he has a mid-life crisis at 50? I don't know. I suspect that the kid who chooses his own path ends up making more mistakes but maybe he's happier with himself.

A Sunny Day in March With My Cast

2014-03-06T07:15:00.001-08:00

It's sunny and cold today. The snow is shrinking quickly, though not quite fast enough. I am on my second week in my walking cast. Tomorrow may be the day I am finally liberated from any cast at all and "get" to progress to wearing just a brace. A brace with sneakers, but still not a cast.

If you've ever had a cast you know the day-to-day indignities, the insecurity, the balance issues, the importance of not tripping others and not being tripped and the balance issues. Yes, I said 'balance issues' twice. The first two weeks or so I fell on average twice a day. Some days I fell four times. My son would hear me topple and yell "Are you all right? Are you all right?!!" and rush to my side. The worst fall I took was on the carpeted floor in the living room. I managed to break a few Xmas ornaments with a crutch and smacked my head hard on the hardwood floor. I fell twice on the highly polished hard wood kitchen floor at my little six-year-old charge's house. That scared him and I felt even guiltier than when I scared my son. I got the hang of it into my third week and at least I stopped falling.

What has amazed me is the reaction of those who've never worn a cast. They crowd too close behind me, step too close in front of me, dart or walk across my path suddenly and too often are oblivious to my struggles with a heavy door I just can't manage. People who have been "casted"--that's what my orthopedist calls it--don't do this. They know.

Then there are the dolts who see a pair of crutches and think to themselves "that looks kind of fun". Unfortunately most of these folks are related to me. My son, my ex-husband, his toddler, even my daughter think it's fun to play with my crutches. They don't realize that having an inflexible boat anchor-like thing attached to your leg is not fun. They swing about, use them as pretend guns (three year old, not ex-husband) and do balancing tricks. Mostly they leave them in the other room or even upstairs so that I have to hobble around like a Macy's parade balloon with only one guide wire. That's annoying and it makes my ankle throb.

My fingers are crossed that tomorrow the cast will be history. Then I get to look like a doofus wearing sneakers with a brace. High top sneakers. At first that will be novel and then I'll feel like an American tourist abroad. Bitch, bitch, bitch. Did I mention it's sunny today?

Worry Warts

2014-02-14T19:48:00.001-08:00

I was musing the other day about the huge difference between the things you worry about when your kids are small compared to the things you worry about with teens.

When my kids were small I worried that they'd get cavities, wouldn't get enough protein, would never have socks that fit, would lose a blankie, would swear like Mommy, wouldn't get into a good preschool/kindergarten, that she wouldn't stop biting even after she turned four and that he would never again let on that he could talk but wouldn't.

Now I worry that the socks I bought for him last week won't fit next week, that his brain will turn to mush from too many MMOGs or whatever they're called this week, that she won't snap to academically in time to get her grades up in time to apply for college, or that she will suddenly want to go to one of those dumb ass private colleges that cost $250K for four years instead of FIT, or that he will never graduate from high school or ever learn to tie his shoes or learn to punch in the PIN correctly even for his own debit card.

I don't remember having any worries for them during the middle years, but maybe I just wasn't paying attention.