Adventures in Chaos

A Few T-Shirt Slogans I'd Really Like to See

2008-07-23T17:07:16-04:00

I was walking through Rockefeller Center today and saw a woman wearing a t-shirt that was a genius takeoff of that now-classic “Got milk?” campaign. This particular t-shirt said, “Got wine?”

Ha. Well put, sister. I laughed to myself, and then thought of all of the other “Got...” t-shirts I’d like to wear on any given day. Here, in no particular order:

Got a self-cleaning husband?

Got 15 minutes to fold my laundry?

Got a non-shedding yellow lab?

Got a self-renovating house?

Got a sabbatical?

Got a trip to Mexico?

Got perfect skin?

Got kids who will throw food wrappers in the garbage can in the kitchen instead of leaving them on the side table next to the sofa and the laptop, and why has that side table become the new unofficial home for the laptop anyway when we have a perfectly good kitchen counter where food wrappers would not look so irritating as they do in the t.v. room? But I digress.

Got a no-cost vacation?

Got a cat who won’t get old?

Got another hour of sleep?

Got a Xanax?

From: The Mother of a 13-Year-Old Boy

2008-07-21T14:32:58-04:00

To: Anyone who has been an adolescent or successfully raised one

Re: Embarrassing parents

It has come to my attention that I now embarrass my son about once a day. About half of what I do embarrasses him, whether it’s asking another adult about his well-being (“Did my son seem to like camp?”) or being concerned about his safety (insisting he wear a bike helmet) or revealing anything whatsoever about him to just about anybody who doesn’t live in our house. Maybe I’ve blocked it out, but I don’t recall ever finding my parents embarrassing, and since this is my oldest child I really have no template for this kind of thing.

So my question: how long does this phase last? And will I ever return to being a somewhat normal, not-embarrasing person?

Cultural Forces I Will Never Understand Because I Only Have Sons

2008-07-14T20:14:03-04:00

Polly Pocket

Miley Cyrus

Purple (And, for that matter: pink, aqua, and sometimes even yellow)

High School Musical

Bratz

Dora the Explorer

The whole American Girl thing

Colored cell phones

Hair detangler

Most Lindsay Lohan movies

Most emoticons

The Jonas Brothers

Stockings in the Summer — Remember That Torture?

2008-07-10T19:03:23-04:00

One of the various perks, if you can call them that, of my job is that I have a t.v. in my office. Despite the fact that I can count on two hands the number of times I’ve actually turned it on in five years, it does come in handy. For example, how else would I have been able to watch Michelle Obama on The View in the middle of a staff meeting a few weeks back?

Because the other editors in the room and I were actually pretending to get some work done, we mostly watched Michelle O with the volume turned off. However, we did hear the part when someone — Joy? — noted that she wasn’t wearing stockings, and asked her why. She gave a fine (if somewhat boring ) answer about stockings being uncomfortable and the fact that she’s 5’11” and stockings are a particular problem, fit-wise, when you’re 5’11”. All believable, I suppose, but she did NOT say what she may have been thinking, and which I was certainly thinking, which is that stockings in the summer are only ok if it’s 1982, or if you work for a man who is insane enough to require that you wear them.

I frankly don’t know why bare legs is such a big deal, but then again I got my start in magazines at Vogue, where one day one of the fashion editors wore a bikini top to work. She kept it on for the entire day, even when she was standing at the fax machine. I was 27 years old and just a hayseed from Delaware and took one look at that and thought, “Now I’ve seen everything.” I never did come around to wearing a bikini top but one thing I learned immediately on the staff of Vogue was that stockings were never ever to be worn on any occasion, even in the dead of winter. In the winter it was ok to wear tights, but not when you were going to a fancy party — then you had to have bare legs, and they had better be tan, even if it was February.

That was in the early 90s, when lots of women who didn’t work at Vogue magazine were still wearing stockings and thinking there was nothing wrong with it. Now even my mother does not wear stockings. Nor does our potential next First Lady. I for one see this as progress. And just imagine: maybe someday we’ll all be wearing BIKINIS to work.

Do You Send Your Kids Away for the Summer?

2008-07-07T15:40:21-04:00

I know there are kids who go to camp for six or eight weeks in the summer; in fact, I know some of them, and I know their parents. They all seem like perfectly reasonable people, and some of them are even our close friends.

And yet...I can’t imagine mustering up the whatever-it-takes (fortitude? organization? money?) to send my kids off to camp for six weeks. Forget sentimental issues — I can’t imagine all the packing. Just sending Middle and Eldest off to camp for two weeks, which we did yesterday, seemed like a Herculean parental feat.

Things you learn about yourself and your kids when you are trying to pack for camp:

rain ponchos are embarrassing and will not be worn

some children care enough about their mothers to lie and say that yes, they will write you three letters per week

a certain child’s insistence that he can’t use anything but a sunscreen stick on his face magically disappears when you’re talking about sunscreen at camp; suddenly spray is perfectly fine

top sheets are unnecessary

packing for camp and watching a 15-month-old at the same time is nearly impossible

just because you are three years older does not mean you are more organized than your brother

if Wimbledon is on, chances are no one is going to want to pack anything

I went to camp as a kid and don’t really remember anything about it except learning how to turtle a Sunfish. I only went for one or two weeks (can’t remember!), which might explain why six weeks seems so long to me. Or maybe I’ll just miss all the bickering that seems to constitute most of the communication between my two oldest children.

So the good news is that we got Eldest and Middle safely ensconced in the woods in Connecticut. The even better news is that the best pizza place on the whole East Coast is on our way home, and even if you have to send your kids to camp for two weeks and then wait in line for an hour to eat dinner, it really is worth it.

But I would like to know: for those of you with kids, do you send them to camp? If so, for how long?

A Few Great Things About Having a Baby in Your 40s

2008-07-02T10:44:19-04:00

toned arms without a lot of trips to the gym

many people assume you’re 35

you probably have older children to help, and they might even be old enough to babysit!

you meet a whole new set of parents

baby gets great presents because your friends have more money than they did 10 years ago

you know all the awful stuff (teething, tantrums) is probably just a phase

you know all the good stuff (fat fingers, fat thighs, toothless smiles) is also a phase, so you work harder to appreciate it

even the childless women your age don’t have flat stomachs anymore, which makes you feel better about yours

Things That Have Happened to the 10 or So Hamsters We Have Had Over the Last 7 Years

2008-07-01T14:03:45-04:00

escaped, discovered but not eaten by cat, returned to cage

squeezed head through bars of cage, eyes kind of popped out, but returned to normal once we rescued him using pliers to separate the bars

nearly scalped by another hamster before we knew not to keep two in one cage

escaped, found wandering around bedroom a few days later, returned to cage

escaped, never seen again

died of natural causes

had 6 babies, even though we were sure she was a male

had 6 babies that survived and were returned to Petco once they were weaned

The Day the Water Came through the Dining Room Ceiling

2008-06-25T16:47:42-04:00

Actually, it was on Monday. It had been pretty hot in New York over the weekend and Eldest and Middle had been begging my husband to put the air conditioning unit in their window, as he does every summer. After a bit of procrastinating (part of the process) and grumbling (ditto), my husband gamely installed the unit by himself on Sunday afternoon, while I kept walking by the room, Baby in my arms, worriedly asking if he needed any help. (Because, you see, in the late 1990s there was the Air Conditioner Falling Out of the Third Floor Window During Installation Incident which pretty much scarred me and Eldest for life.)

The installation was accident-free and Eldest and Middle were happy for the night. On Monday morning I got up early and, as luck would have it, wandered into the dining room to see if the flowers on the dining room table needed any more water. The flowers were fine, but out of the corner of my eye I noticed water dripping from a place where water should never appear — that is, from the dining room ceiling. In a miraculous moment of intelligence, I figured out that the boys’ A/C unit was right above that spot, and went upstairs and turned it off; indeed, the unit was dripping, and the carpeting beneath it was pretty soaked. Back to the dining room: the floor was fairly wet, as was the wall and the side of the piano. The most disturbing thing, however (and no, I’m not going to say “was that I didn’t understand how water from an air conditioner could appear in a ceiling,” even though that’s true) was that the water was sort of brown.

But it was Monday morning and Middle had school and Baby woke up and I had to get myself to work so...whatever.

On Monday night my husband got up on a step ladder to clean the dining room ceiling. Over the course of the day, the water had stopped dripping, but the remaining spots were an even darker brown. After he finished cleaning he notified me that the water spots had a certain odor that he couldn’t place but found somewhat organic and troubling. I took a whiff, and...

**BRIEF INTERRUPTION FOR BACK STORY: There once was a hamster named Sir/Lady Spamalot (we weren’t sure if it was male or female). Sir/Lady S. had one tremendous talent, which was escape. What can I say? He/she escaped from those skinny hamster cage bars one time too many and was never seen again.**

...as I inhaled I recognized the unmistakable odor of hamster. Whether it was eau de Dead Hamster or eau de Hamster Droppings or some combination of the two, it was definitely hamster. Obviously Sir/Lady S. had taken up residence in the wall at some point (he/she went missing, oh, eight months ago) and either died in the wall months ago or died by drowning in the air conditioner leak on Sunday.

And that, folks, is the end of the disgusting tale of the week. And part of the reason we no longer have any hamsters, and hopefully never will.

Renovation Conundrum: Should You Provide Refreshments for People Working on Your House?

2008-06-23T17:39:01-04:00

This past weekend we had a team of about eight men working outside of our house from early morning until late in the afternoon. (Like many guys in my experience who work outside, they showed up unannounced, and with a very loud machine. In this instance it was 7:13 a.m. on Saturday and my husband and I were awakened by what sounded like a chainsaw beneath our bedroom window. “What’s that!?!?!” my husband snarled, to which I replied, “I don’t know, but I think it’s in our backyard.” As it turns out, it was not underneath our bedroom window but across the patio and not a chainsaw but a circular saw. And in case you’re wondering, the noise ordinance in our town dictates that you can’t use machinery like that until 8 a.m. But believe me, even at 8 a.m. a circular saw is really loud.)

So these guys were working in 85 degree heat, with long pants on, so naturally I dragged out the cooler and filled it with ice, Gatorade (which we have in limitless numbers) and bottled water. No one wanted coffee. The guys thanked me and drank nearly everything.

As always, I was left with the nagging feeling that I should have ordered lunch or something. (This feeling went away when I realized after they’d gone that one of the guys had taken my favorite sprayer from the hose, which happens EVERY SINGLE TIME SOMEONE IS WORKING ON THE OUTSIDE OF OUR HOUSE. There are much more wonderful and certainly more expensive things to take from my yard but for some reason the nice sprayer always goes missing.)

Here are my personal rules for refreshments for strangers working at the house:

one or two guys in the morning: coffee

a lot of guys in the morning: box of coffee from Dunkin Donuts

one or two guys all day: coffee, followed by drinks in a cooler

a lot of guys all day: box of coffee, drinks in cooler

several guys all day who we have gotten to know pretty well because they’ve done a lot of work at our house: pizza, or sandwiches from the deli, plus drinks all day, and hot tea with milk if it’s Yuri the wonderful carpenter

Now, this is where it gets confusing. If I don’t know the crew and will never see them again, I do not buy them lunch. If they are at this point practically part of the family, I do.

Question: what do you give people who are working on your house? Drinks? Lunch? Beer at the end of the day? Just a check and a handshake?

Unexplained Phenomenon #247: Why Some People Just Make You Sleepy

2008-06-18T16:15:18-04:00

I was in a meeting the other day with one of my favorite colleagues when I had a sudden, shocking realization: she makes me sleepy. In fact, she has always made me sleepy. I’m not sure if it’s her voice or her beautiful skin or her whole demeanor or the fact that her area of expertise is something I don’t completely understand but the net effect is that whenever I meet with her I get sleepier and sleepier and lower and lower in my chair until I think I’d really benefit from taking a very short nap. Which is not a great solution because everything coming out of her mouth is pretty important to our business, and we’re all much better off if I’m paying attention.

I was so surprised and obsessed by this realization that I talked about it for the rest of the day and found out — in my own very little, very unscientific poll — that she doesn’t make anyone else at Real Simple sleepy. That said, everyone I asked had someone who made them sleepy. It usually has something to do with the voice.

My assignment to you: think about the people in your life. Is there anyone who makes you sleepy? If so, do you know why?