Changing Times

The teenage years have officially arrived at our house. Drama Queen turned 12 last week. As many of you surely know, it’s a precious, frustrating time of extreme moodiness, surprisingly mature choices, lingering childishness, and lots and lots of growing. Like I said, precious and frustrating.

But this birthday, the thing I mourned most was the shopping. You see, I used to go to the store and pick out all these cute things that I thought she'd love – clothes, toys, girlie stuff. And she did. Present opening was one surprise after another. Now, not so much.

She's become extremely picky about her clothes, so I didn't even bother shopping before her birthday. We simply went together and spent 5 frustrating hours picking out 7 shirts (half of those were multiples of a type of shirt in various colors), 2 shorts, 3 tanks, and 1 jacket – and various lip glosses, perfume, and accessories. I'm not allowed to pick out the girlie girl stuff anymore either.

The things that I'm allowed to buy are gift cards, books (she keeps a wish list, so this really doesn't count), and well, that's about it.

Sigh… I'm seriously longing for the good ol' days. But I guess if shopping is our major issue, I should count myself lucky, huh?

Angel

Make a Joyful Noise

I know, I know. I'm not putting in enough effort with today's blog. It's something I saw on someone else's Facebook post. But I've watched it numerous times. I showed it to my two girlfriends who came over for dinner last Saturday night and we laughed til we cried.

So I'm sharing it with you. For me it brings back memories of not only my childhood Christmas pageants, but those of my children too. I've always said that the folks who do children's pageants and children's sermons are either the bravest people on earth or the dumbest. You never, ever know what kids will say or do. I can still remember the little poem I had to recite as part of a group:

We are little candles, spreading rays of light.
Telling all the world that Christ is born tonight.

I posted half that on Facebook and tagged my sister. Without missing a beat, she provided the other half. Amazing what you'll remember decades later, huh?

My older son was in the children's choir at church and on Christmas Eve they'd sing not only religious songs but secular ones too. To this day, thanks to him, when I sing "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" I change the lyrics to "... then one froggy Christmas Eve, Santa came to say...."

My ex-husband tells about the kid in one of his childhood Christmas pageants who took his shepherd's crook, clasped it in both hands and made machine-gun noises as he pointed it at the manger.

Anyway, I bring you one of the funniest Christmas pageant videos I've seen. And after you finish watching and dry your tears (and maybe your drawers too), tell us about your experience with Christmas pageants.



This little girl certainly gives new meaning to the phrase "Make a joyful noise." And note that the baby Jesus is a real baby who slept through the entire performance. Perhaps they swaddled his/her ears well.

Chores, Chores for Everyone!

Recently a friend told me that on her children’s 10th birthday, she wrapped a bottle of Tide and gave it to them. The message: Time to wash your own laundry.

I don’t remember when I started doing laundry or how MY mother taught me to do things like dishes, laundry, cleaning, etc. I just know I could take care of most household tasks solo. By 18 my sister and I were self-sufficient enough to take care of the house and farm by ourselves while my parents lived at the hospital in a nearby town when my baby brother was treated for spinal meningitis for 21 days.

Now, we don’t live on a farm, so I don’t need as much help as my mother did. But I do believe in children pitching in because the work of maintaining a family should simply not fall to one person. And while I’m getting a handle on my family’s new situation (my new job, hubby’s long days, and extra childcare) our strained finances require me to do more cooking, with virtually no eating out. That takes time – which I have less of.

I say all that to say this – my children need to step up to the plate and assist in the tasks that are required to keep family life running smoothly. Currently, they put away their own laundry, empty the dishwasher, and pick up their rooms. So they don’t do chores on a daily basis.

That has to change, because I can’t do it alone.

Only 2 months from 11, Drama Queen is about to start doing her own laundry. I think she and her brother could also fold the towels for their own bathroom too. Maybe empty the trash? Wipe down the table after dinner every night (they already do this at school). Dust sometimes?

It’s amazing how having one small thing done by someone else can lighten a mother’s load.

So tell me, what tasks did your kids do at what age? When do you think it is appropriate for them to learn new chores? How much do you ask them to help around the house?

Angel

Are You a Perpetual Kid?

My husband, heaven bless him, is the light to my dark. I’m a pessimist; he’s an optimist. I’m obsessive; he’s laidback. I read, he plays video games. I’m serious; he’s funny.

Even when it comes to gifts. This Christmas he got me a couple of gifts from perpetualkid.com . I’m a huge CSI fan, so these were a big hit:







The kids got a big kick out of them too. He also bought me Blood Bath Body Wash, which is cherry-scented bath wash in a fake hospital blood bag and makes me chuckle every time I use it. The website (once he told me about it) had a huge array of funny gifts (depending on your sense of humor), including bloody shower curtain and bath mat, bacon-flavored floss, Bitch Slap Those Germs! Hand sanitizer, and a whole array of products featuring cupcakes (seems to be an obsession).

What’s the funniest gift you’ve ever gotten? Are you the funny one or the serious one? '

Angel

Process of Simplification

They say life is about change, and I’ve had all the life I can handle in the last four months. In that time, my husband has changed careers and I’ve finally had to go back to work full time. I now clean houses 3 times a week, on top of my resume writing business. My husband’s new job keeps him out to really late hours, so on top of my new work I now have the morning and evening responsibilities for the kids alone on most days (can you say -- homework hell?).

Anyone reading this blog on a regular basis can probably guess that I don’t adapt very well. :) This has taken a lot of getting used to, and I spend a lot of days wishing I could go to bed and leave everything behind. There’s nothing like being overwhelmed already, then having children fight until bedtime, and refuse to stay in the bed without spankings, to leave you harried at the end of the day.

But though I don’t adapt quickly, I do eventually face things with a “might as well learn to cope” attitude. (Note I said: eventually) I’ve finally reached this stage with my new phase of life. Unfortunately, I couldn’t catch my breath long enough to see the best strategies for dealing with the chaos. Catch 22? So I came to a decision last week that my life had to slow down. If it wasn’t absolutely necessary, it wasn’t getting done. This was especially true for being on the road.

You see, I’m a goer. I practically live out of my car (as many soccer moms do, I’m sure, except my kids don’t play sports). But I’m always on the road to something. School, groceries, lunch, errands, writing stuff… there’s always some place to be. But in the midst of all that stuff, I’d lost the space to think, to breathe, to create. Something had to be done. I had to learn to say, gulp, NO.

Now, I make myself think twice before going anywhere. I’m even giving up my beloved “Write Out” for the time being. I’m limiting the amount of clients I take on to the ones I can comfortably fit in, and scheduling the rest into the next week if they want to wait. Right now, my focus has to be on working (to bring income to my family) and writing (to preserve my sanity and the one thing that is MINE). And by that I mean the actual writing, not writing-group related activities. The only exception is our local chapter meetings. Those days are my "treat", when I get to spend time with the Playfriends and lots of other friends and refresh my spirit and determination.

So tell me, have you figured out how to simplify? To create time in your life, rather than always spending it? If so, I’d love some advice. Otherwise, let’s discuss. :) I'm sure we could all use some "breathing" with the hectic holidays upon us.


Angel

Coming Soon!
The Playground has a birthday coming up! Next Monday, November 15, will be the Playground’s 5th birthday party. Join us for lots of fun and gifties, right here on the blog!

Blog Winner!
FBF winner is Tonya Renee Callihan! Please email your snail mail address to Smarty Pants to claim your prize. smartypants@writingplayground.com

Childhood Treasures

Over this past summer, Drama Queen’s reading abilities grew like one of those tiny toys you put in water, then watch them enlarge and take shape instantaneously. Not only did the amount she read expand, but the difficult of the books she chose rose as well. She’s now reading at a 9th grade level in 5th grade. With surprise, I realized she is reaching the same age I did when reading became my favorite activity.

Her favorites are the Warrior’s books (Erin Hunter) and she’s now reading a historical YA romance by fellow HOD member Melanie Dickerson. She doesn’t seem to be interested in Harry Potter, even though she enjoyed the movies. But watching her sit at the table and read after school brings back so many memories.

My mother began taking us to a local library on a regular basis when I was about eleven. I started in the youth section before moving on to tackle the adult books under my mother’s close supervision. The librarians came to know us very well over the years, until my sister and I started college, and they were always impressed that we each checked out the maximum books allowed: 13 per 2 week period. They were astounded when my mother told them we actually read all those books.



I remember one book in particular, a retelling of Beauty and the Beast titled Beauty. I remember the beautiful language, vivid imagery, and intriguing story of sacrifice and love in that book, as well I should since I read it repeatedly. A quick Amazon search revealed a YA book by the same name, by author Robin McKinley, that sounds like it might be the one. I’m hoping to purchase a copy for my daughter for Christmas. Maybe she’ll enjoy it as much as I did.

Do you have a book that stands out from your childhood, one that had a special impact on you and your reading habits?

Angel

Vacation for Mommy

This week something very different is going down in Angel Land. For the first time since I became a mother, I’ll have no children for a whole week! Yay! Yikes!

This is the first year that both of my kids are going to stay with my mother out of state during the summer. Before this year, I didn’t think Little Man was ready. Even this year, I’m a little concerned, but he wanted to go, so he’s staying. I’ve explained that 6 hours is too far away to drive if you get scared in the middle of the night. And my mother is a wonderful grandmother with plenty enough experience to handle any fears or worries. I know they are in good hands.

So I get what other people call a vacation. I just don’t know what to do with myself. Actually, I do get to go on vacation for 2 days every fall, when I join my fellow chapter members on a retreat. But this is a week. At home. No kids. No whining. No fighting. No cooking (unless I want to). No Disney TV. And no McDonalds. What shall I do? Hmmmm….

1. WRITE
Definitely! I’ve been plotting and planning a new book, very exciting, and I’m hoping to get some chapters written this week.

2. SHOP
Well, it was my birthday this past weekend, and I need new shoes for Nationals…

3. LUNCH
Or maybe dinner? Doesn’t matter, because I don’t have to be home for baths or bedtime. The hubby is capable of taking care of himself, right? Actually, he and I do have plans to celebrate my birthday while the kids are gone.

4. DRIVING SCHOOL
:( After 20 years on the road, I recently got my first speeding ticket. The only downer this week will be mandatory driving school in a very rough part of town, at night… Scary.

So tell me, what would you do if you had a whole week to yourself? I’ll get back to you… once I finally decide to get out of bed. :)

Angel

P.S. Join us on Wednesday when author Christie Ridgway visits the blog.

Summertime! Yikes!

I know most people hail the beginnings of summer with parties, happy smiles, and lazy days by the pool. As a SAHM, who works with her children at home during the off school hours, I find the unending rush of summer days to be something scary to dread, not celebrate. Yes, as my husband reminds me, I no longer have to drag my carcass and everyone else’s out of bed at 6:30 every morning, but that’s actually part of the problem. I know, other mom’s probably view my attitude like I’m Scrooge at Christmas, but I can’t help it. Let’s take a closer look.

1. No alarm clocks = No schedule.

Yes, I don’t have to roll out of bed at the butt-crack of dawn during June and July, but we also have no discernable schedule for the months of summer. I know, I can hear all of you now yelling that I could create one, but seriously? If someone isn’t telling me things have to be done at a certain time, they can so easily be put off. (Remember, I live a life of prioritizing; if it ain't screaming, it doesn't make the list.) Plus, any schedule we put into practice would be overrun by the trip to Grandma’s house, visiting friends to keep the kids occupied, lack of appointments that need to be kept, RWA National Conference, and visits to local attractions (again to keep the kids occupied). So we get to the end of July and I’m trying to figure out what I actually got accomplished since school got out, besides keeping children occupied.

2. No school = Children home 24/7

I’m not saying that school is a babysitter, but frankly, if they aren’t in school then I could use a nanny. I constantly have kids underfoot while I’m trying to write, do client work, handle business phone calls, and continue to do all those things I do when the kids are usually gone. They may not be working (I consider school to be a kid’s job), but I still have to. My frustration gets out of control pretty quick when I get interrupted every 20 minutes and am now expected to stop and mediate the fights that break out every 10.

3. I’m a Loner

Not only am I an introvert, but I thrive on time by myself. The biggest adjustment for me when I had my first child wasn’t even going without sleep (though that was painful), it was never being alone. Sometimes I felt like I was smothering, and the same is true for summertime. The hubby actually bears the brunt of this problem. I manage all day long, but the minute the kids go to bed, I lock myself in the bedroom and don’t wish to see anyone until daylight. Okay, so this is an exaggeration, but it happens more often than not. Poor guy. I’m sure there are times he wonders how he managed to marry a bear that hibernates in the summertime. :)

4. Battle of the Siblings

I’m a twin, so while I do have a sister, it isn’t like most sibling relationships. Our nearest sibling, a brother, wasn’t born until we turned 18 years old. Although I know that my sister and I fought, especially as teens, it was unusual rather than the norm. But it seems like my children do nothing but fight, and it gets worse the more time they spend together. Apparently I haven’t figured out the secret to sibling management yet. My best tactic is to send them to their separate rooms so we can all have some peace and quiet for a while. Oh, and we do have “rest time” every day of the summer. I require my children to spend an hour every afternoon reading in their beds, so we can have some time out from each other. Plus, it gives me an excuse to make them read while they’re out of school. But not an hour after they’re back up, the bickering starts once more…

So no, summer is not my ideal time of the year. And this year, summer is lasting an extra week longer. Instead of going back to school the first week of August, they won’t return until the second week (I think because of budget cuts). The teenager I hired for the past few summers to keep them for one day a week so I could have a break has moved on to college, and I haven’t been able to find another. This might be a long summer indeed.

So, do you have any suggestions for this grumpy summer bear? I’d especially love any tips on handling the fighting, and keeping them occupied without having to stand over them 24/7 every day.

Angel


P.S. Check out the write-up about the Heart of Dixie Romance Readers' Luncheon over on Barbara Vey's blog.

It's Here!

Guess what the topic is for my day this week? Spring Break? I warned you last week. Remember? :)

Yep, it’s that time of year in the south, though it got cold again the past few days. Doesn’t feel like spring, except for all the rain. I’m facing a week at home with 2 munchkins, with visiting munchkins at different times throughout the next 7 days.

Now, my kids are old enough now that this isn’t a total disaster. With lots of focus and discipline, I can get work and writing done, even with them home. (Wonder where I’ll find either of those things?) Of course, it usually takes me twice as long to get it done, but I can get there eventually. The biggest problem? I’m already suffering withdrawal from my ALONE TIME. I didn’t realize how very precious was a full school day alone, to do my work without interruption and chaos, until Little Man started Kindergarten this year. And as much as I’m embarrassed to admit it, I covet that time. Why is Christmas break so god-awful long? Do we really have to have Spring Break? And don’t even get me started on summer. They’ll be lucky if I don’t run away from home!

Sigh. I’m the most selfish mother on the planet.

So tell me, if you have kids, how do you cope with breaks?

Angel

Coming Soon!

Author Kristi Gold visits us on Wednesday, the 17th.

The Playfriends are partying with Barbara Vey this week in celebration of her Blogging Anniversary. Click on the link in the sidebar to check out all the cool things happening on Beyond Her Book all week and all the lovely prizes being given away.

Proud-as-Punch Moments

I often joke about being the matriarch of the Playground group and rightfully so. I could have given birth to all the Playfriends, and I have a child older than the youngest Playfriend. But I like to think I'm young at heart because after all, age is just a number.

Last weekend I visited #2 son at Western Carolina University where he's enrolled in graduate school. It's my alma mater too. He ran track in high school and college, setting quite a few records along the way. Last Friday, though, I saw him in an entirely different light. He wasn't the kid who could run fast. He was Coach Puett. From the sidelines I watched as he instructed the runners about their pre-race warm up, directed a few helpers to set out cones to mark the course and greeted one of his students (he teaches health and physical education courses too) who'd come out to help and get extra credit.



The women's teams ran first and his team finished first. Then came the men's race, one like I've watched since he started running at age four. One of his runners went out strong and owned the race all the way to the finish line.

As I stood watching all the teams congratulating each other and engaging in the post-race dissection of their performances, one of the other parents came up to me and asked if I had a child on the team. I told her my son was one of the graduate assistant coaches, and when I told her his name, she just beamed. "My son is so excited to be working with Coach Puett. He's a phys ed major and told me he wants to be just like Coach after he graduates."

Talk about proud!

That made me doubly glad I didn't sell him to the gypsies when he misbehaved as a child. I don't know about the rest of you parents, but for me, parenthood was the most difficult job I've had. I had no training, save for a little babysitting. It was learn-as-you-go and the hospital didn't issue me an instructional manual or give me a card with a toll-free customer support line when they discharged us from the hospital. I really felt I was on a strict pass/fail system. Well, folks, I think I passed.

After he'd finished with his coaching duties, we had the weekend to ourselves. Since he is a real outdoorsman (must be a genetic fluke or something), I suggested we go to the Blue Ridge Parkway for an easy hike and a picnic. Here's proof I did actually hike.

And here we are at the top of the bald where we ate our lunch.

And if you look very closely, you can see a group of people on the next bald. That's our return route to the parking area.

The particular spot where we hiked is called Black Balsam Knob, named for the groves of balsam trees, which appear black from a distance. Sadly, these trees are being decimated by the balsam woolly adelgid, creating large areas of "ghost" forests. I was playing with my camera and only took a black-and-white version of this shot, but it shows a lone dead balsam tree.

Here's a grove of black balsams. You can see how they look black on the mountain in the distance.

And this is what it looks like when you hike into the grove. I felt like Gretl in the fairy tale and had this strange urge to leave a trail of bread crumbs.

At the end of the hike, we were rewarded with this -- blackberries. We also found wild blueberry bushes and picked those too but my picture was blurry. The berries were awesome, and as Bear Grylls would say, "filled with vitamins and minerals." Speaking of Bear, there's a MOAN-day topic for you.

Have you had a proud-as-punch moment with your kids? Tell us about it. We won't think it's bragging, just that you're a proud parent. And we'll pat you on the back too.

Never Again!

I have to admit, I don’t really participate much in the activities at my children’s schools. Those times when they are gone, when I know they are safe and completely occupied, are to be coveted by the work-at-home mom. I do attend class parties and try to go on field trips when allowed, but last week the one field trip I’ve ever attended and absolutely hated came up: the baseball game.

My first experience with this was last year. It was an unusually scorching day for April and our seats ended up being in direct sunlight. Of course, never having been to a game before, I forgot about applying sunscreen. So I was sweaty and burning to a crisp for a game that none of the kids watched. There were way more children than parents, hard to keep up with when there were 5-6 other schools there on field trips also. Yikes! Who decided this madhouse would be fun?

Apparently the school did, because my daughter’s grade went again this year. It started off much better though. Our seats were right on the edge in the shade (although I had remembered to apply sunscreen, just in case). It was a much cooler day, with a slight breeze through the stadium. So far, so good. I just focused on the children around me, and left the rest for the teacher to worry about. Then it was time for my daughter and I to leave—having to pick the youngest up from preschool has its rewards. ;) So we headed out to the parking lot, only to find my car wouldn’t start. The same car I’d just picked up from the mechanic, who had assured me the starting mechanism was “all fixed”. After making arrangements to have the same mechanic tow the car and my inlaws pick up my son, I rushed back inside to ask a grandmother who lived close to my house if we could ride home with them. Sure, she said.

I didn’t realize she was staying until the end of the game. The rest of the kids left for school and still we sat, and sat, and sat. Why are baseball games so long? And, I’m sorry, boring? Something interesting only happened about 5 minutes out of the entire game! Once we finally leave and head for the car, she mentions she’d like to stop and get something to eat. Being an older lady, I realized she didn’t mean a drive-thru. There was another hour gone. Then there was the fact that she wouldn’t drive over 45 mph. By the time I finally arrived home, it was 3:30. Did I mention I hadn’t been feeling well that morning? But I could tough out 3.5 hours sitting at a ball field, couldn’t I? Sure. Until it turned into 5, then another 1.5 to get home.

Ugghh… Heaven help me. All I wanted to do when I got home was lie down. But then the mechanic called—car all fixed. Something they’d replaced had just come loose. Just. Come. Loose. I wasted my afternoon for that? Can you hear the scream building?

I comforted myself with the thought that next year Drama Queen would be old enough, I could safely send her on this trip on her own. Because there was no way I was returning for another disastrous year.

Until I remember… next year Little Man would be in kindergarten. Argh!

So what was your most interesting field trip experience? Yours or someone else’s?

Angel

Coming Soon: On Friday, April 24, join us for author Anna Cleary's guest blog!

Oh, The Drama!

As a Mom, my protective instincts have been all fired up since Friday afternoon. That’s when Drama Queen, my oldest and only daughter, had an accident and broke both her wrists. That’s right, both of them. Color me panicked when the doctor oh-so-casually told me the news. I thought I was going to faint. I most definitely dropped my jaw enough to catch a few flies.



Needless to say, we’ve had quite a few adjustments over the weekend, not the least of which is her having to revert to baby status on all her accomplishments. The poor thing can’t eat, brush her teeth, or even scratch her nose, because the temporary casts run from mid-finger to the middle of her biceps. I’m hoping to meet with her teachers and/or principal today to discuss school options and develop a plan for that. And attempting to bathe her yesterday was not a lot of fun, let me tell you.



But even with some of the practical issues now on the To Do list, I admit to my heart catching and tears filling my eyes every time I see those casts. Deep down, I wish I could kiss it and make it all go away. Intellectually, I know this is part of life and she is handling it with a positive attitude and grace. The pride I feel in that is warming. I can’t help but think about my own mother standing by my bedside after one of several miscarriages. How much more her sadness and helplessness must have been than mine at this moment. Sniff… Uh oh, I might start crying…

So today I’m trying to make the necessary arrangements while taking care of my 8-year-old baby. Plus work that’s been waiting for me. And let’s not forget those revisions I told myself I’d tackle.

Quick, take my mind off of all of this today and tell me about your own childhood accident experiences (either yours or your child’s). Or just say anything so I will be distracted from my worry and obsessive checking on my baby.


Angel

Winner!
PJ is the winner of Julia Harper's For the Love of Pete. Email Smarty Pants at smartpants@writingplayground.com with your snail mail address to claim your prize. Prizes not claimed within 7 days may be given to someone else.

Growing Up

Drama Queen, who is now 8, finally developed an interest in having her ears pierced. The prospect of pain certainly did not thrill her, and kept her from following through on any errant thought about it before. Like me, she has a very low tolerance for pain. (PS. We don’t call her Drama Queen for nothing)

Anyway, when she brought this up to her Daddy and I, the good ol’ hubby promptly chimed in with, “Yeah, maybe your Mommy can get hers done at the same time. You’d like another earring in your ear, wouldn’t you?”

Great. After that, there was no way I could tell DQ that I didn’t exactly relish the idea of having a needle stuck through my ear again. When I had my ears pierced as a child, I had some problems with one of them and had to have it redone. And it looked like now I’d be getting a double pierce.

We chose a Claire’s Boutique at the nearby mall. My mother-in-law was nice enough to join us to take pictures and decided to put a third hole in her right ear to complete this bonding experience.



I got elected to go first (lucky me!). It wasn’t so bad. More burning and pressure than actual pain. My mil went next. Then it was time for Drama Queen to climb up in the chair. They did both her ears at once, because we were honestly afraid she would get one done and refuse to go through with the other one.

Long story short (too late!), she barely even cried. Tears welled and spilled over a bit and she started talking really fast, but no dramatic swoon, no hollering, no crying from here to eternity. I was quite surprised. And proud. She hasn’t fussed about them hurting or bothering her while she sleeps, which has also surprised me. Quite frankly, mine are driving me crazy.




So, do you have your ears pierced? Double? Any extras we should know about? Secret hankering for a nose ring or tattoo? Come on, spill it… but keep it G-rated, okay? :)

Angel

Child Labor, With Love

Since my children were small, I’ve tried to give them household tasks to do that matched their ages and abilities. But I recently realized I’d fallen down on the job in that area, unknowingly falling into DIY syndrome.

You see, I’ve always been a firm believer that children and teenagers should be given responsibilities and chores growing up. I roll my eyes when I hear my teenage siblings (yep, you read that right) complain about having to walk the dogs or clean up their rooms. When I was growing up (now I sound really old), we lived on a farm. Guess who fed the cow, goats, horses, chickens, and various other animals TWICE per day? Guess who was required to spend a whole hour every summer day pulling weeds out of the garden? Not to mention helping can vegetables, mow the lawn, haul wood, take care of the house, on and on and on… My sister, Mom, and me. I WISH all I’d had to do was walk the dog and clean my room.

But there was a positive upside to this type of lifestyle. When I moved out on my own, I knew how to take care of myself. Fixing my own meals, doing laundry, cleaning up after myself, held no mysteries. I’d been doing it since I was 10. Heck, during college I cleaned other people’s houses to make grocery money. And I want the same for my children. To me, there is no excuse for sending your child out into the world not knowing how to do laundry. It’s part of life. A parent’s job is to prepare them for what they will face in life.

Well, I recently realized that I’d been slacking in this area. It all started with the dishwasher…

I hate unloading the dishwasher. Actually, I hate dishes in general. I’m solely responsible for them at my house. That’s one thing I honestly try not to ask my hubby to do, because he owns a restaurant. He does dishes at work. Not a bunch (he has help), but he has been known to help clean up the kitchen. I hate doing them. I’d started Drama Queen out teaching her to put away the silverware. She could actually do it pretty well from the time she was about 4, but with moving and everything, we got out of the habit. I’d fallen into the old, “It’s easier to do it myself than wait on someone else” trap.

Then I was over at Instigator’s one day and watched her girls putting their dishes into the dishwasher after they ate dinner. What? They were younger than my kids. Could I? Should I?

Yep, I did. Actually, I haven’t started making them load the dishwasher yet. We have one of those older models that, if you don’t rinse the dishes really well before putting them in, they don’t come out clean. But they could EMPTY the dishwasher….  Yay!!!

I started by teaching Little Man, who is now 4, to put away the utensils. It’s like a sorting game and he is so proud of himself when he’s done. Unfortunately for Drama Queen, now 8, she gets to put away the brunt of the dishes, sorting them onto the counter then putting them in their proper cabinets. We have to do that because the position of the dishwasher blocks some of the cabinet doors. Then I load the dishwasher with dirty dishes from the sink. Combined effort, and hopefully once everyone gets the hang of it, less work for moi.

Hmmm… I wonder what else they can do? What did you feel was important to teach your child before they moved out? What responsibilities have you passed on to your children at different ages? (In other words: Please convince me I'm not a slave driver.)

Angel

Update: Our own Maven Beverly Barton is guest blogging today at Fresh Fiction. Check it
out here:
http://freshfiction.com/blog/

Ah, The Days of Youth

I shouldn’t leave putting together my blog topic until Sunday night. I usually don’t. Typically I’ll mull it over throughout the weekend, so I’m pretty set by the time Sunday night rolls around.

Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how you look at it—I had a very busy weekend. My husband took off work and booked us into a hotel Friday night, where we went to the movies, out to dinner, and some window shopping. We also bought a bicycle for my belated birthday present. Yep, this 30-something year old asked for a bike. I haven’t had one since I was about 15, but I’m now the proud owner of a purple Sunflier. It’s pretty and I didn’t fall when I tried it out. Hopefully that’s a good sign.

I got home in time to run the kids to a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese, where I spent the entire afternoon trailing Little Man while he played games. I’m glad the kids had a good time, but I consider that place my personal version of H*LL.

Sunday the Playfriends and families headed out to a local water park and spent the day getting crisp around the edges. I’m not usually an outdoor cat—I burn VERY easily—but I love to swim and enjoyed this very much. With that many children, there is going to be a bit of drama at some point (why does it always have to be one of mine that causes it?), but we made it through with only a few tears. His and mine…

Wow! Now that I have totally bored you with my weekend activities, I guess I should say something inspiring and tie it all up in a nice little relevant bow. Well, I’ve got nothing for ya at the moment. Nothing the least bit profound. Sorry.

How about this for a discussion topic? Just like the bicycle, I hadn’t been to the water park in many years, but as a teenager we used to go every summer. Seems like this might have been a weekend for getting in touch with my younger self again. Or at least the things I used to enjoy back then. What about you? What is one activity you’d like to revisit from your younger years that you’ve let fall by the wayside because of age, weight, or lack of time?

Angel

PS. This Thursday Nicola Cornick will be here at the Playground. Instigator has been raving about her book! Check it out.

I vant to be alone...

(Editorial note: Angel's computer is toast, so you're getting me today and Instigator tomorrow. Hopefully, Angel will be able to borrow a laptop and get online soon to check in.)

I'm an extrovert, and one of the defining characteristics of an extrovert is that we "recharge our batteries" in large groups. Extroverts make good performers because we draw energy from the crowd. More importantly, being in large groups of people doesn't suck all the energy from us like it would an introvert, leaving us drained and exhausted. But that doesn't mean that extroverts have to be around people all the time. In fact, we need our alone time too.

And I desperately need some now.

School is out, so that means AC is home with me every day. Now, she's pretty good about entertaining herself, but almost-seven-year-olds have a limited attention span so she does have to "check in" quite often and let me know what she's doing and why, and can I come see this, and can she have a snack... you get the picture.

Plus, the Geek has been sick for the last week, which means he's been home quite a bit coughing and wheezing and being miserable. I have pretty strict rules about being sick--if you're miserable, go be miserable in your room. I don't fluff pillows or fetch orange juice unless you're on death's door. I'll check on you every now and then and see if you need anything, but otherwise, I'm not a good nurse. And I really don't want your germs, so please stay away from me. DG knows this, and has tried to stay out of my way as much as possible, but that doesn't change the fact that he's home.

I'm just not used to this. I'm very used to kissing everyone goodbye and ushering them out the door at 7.20 am, leaving me alone in blissful silence until 3 pm. Instead, I had both of them home and it drove me insane.

I love 'em both, but I last week was tough. Really tough. I knew it was getting to me, but I didn't realize how much until Thursday. Thursday night is Game Night for DG. Usually, he leaves around seven, and I don't see him until the next morning. AC goes to bed around 7.45, and I have the house to myself.

Well, on Thursday around 6.45 I said something about DG heading off to game night (he'd been well enough to go to work most of the day, so I just assumed he was going.). He said he was planning on staying home. My loving, caring, wifely response to the news he planned to stay home and rest?

A horrified look coupled with an equally horrified "Seriously?"

Not my best moment, I admit it, but geez, I was about to pull my hair out. Although I tried to take it back, DG ended up going to Game Night anyway to pass along contagions to the other Geeks. I sent AC to bed, watched So You Think You Can Dance, talked on the phone to Instigator for a while, and reveled in the silence.

Then he stayed home most of the day Friday. Um, hello, I have a book to write. The one I'm contractually obligated to produce, remember?

We took AC to camp Sunday afternoon and dropped her off. She's gone until Tuesday. I pronounced DG well enough to go to work today (And he is, thank goodness, but sick or not, he was leaving this house, by God.)

Now I have all day today. Alone. In my quiet house. Bliss. Call me a bad wife. Call me a horrible mother. I don't care. I'm home alone.

Sooo...how's your day? :-)

PC

What Happened?

I saw a quote recently that really resonated with me.

Inside every old person is a young person wondering what happened.

Amen!

The Playkids have been plagued lately with a barrage of ailments (Smarty Pants doesn't have a kid, but she has a DB, which is pretty much the same thing). And when a kid is sick, that means Mommy gets to be a nurse instead of a writer. Also, school is out and the kids are home all day long. This means you must feed them three meals a day, keep them entertained, play referree if you have more than one child and in general relinquish any semblance of a personal life and schedule.

Been. There. Done. That.

And now I'm in the position where I don't get yanked out of a night's sleep by a vomiting child or called from school because my kid has a one hundred degree fever. I can pretty much sleep til 8:00 every day with the only disruption being the DH's snoring (though praise be for ear plugs).

We moved into a new house a few years ago and I tell folks it's our "middle-age-friendly" house. It's all brick with vinyl trim so the maintenance is low. It's all one level (except for a bonus room over the garage, which I graciously gave to the DH for his "stuff") and the lot is flat. It's the first house I've ever had that wasn't decorated in early mother-in-law hand-me-downs, outlet store bargains and Little Tikes.

Every time I visit one of the other Playfriends' homes, she begins to apologize for the toys and things scattered about. And every time I tell her not to worry because I've been there and done that. When they ride in my car they joke that it's like being on an airplane because there's a pillow and blanket in the backseat. They also comment about the lack of Cheerios and Happy Meal wrappers in the floor. And once again I tell them that I've been there and done that.

The oldest Playfriend was born seven months before I got married and the youngest is the same age as my older son. We have a generation gap in some respects, but I've never played the "Mama card" with one exception. In Reno they were going clubbing and I told them "I won't bail you out." I told my own kids the same thing. Don't do the crime if you can't do the time. ;-)

Trust me when I tell you that the days of sleepless nights and Happy Meal wrappers will be over before you know it.

Now I'm in a new stage of life: being a grandmother, or Grammy as BabyGrand calls me. She will be two years old next Sunday and inside this old Grammy is a young person wondering what the heck happened and where the years went.




Have you had any age-related revelations lately?

P.S. The Writing Playground blog had its 100,000th hit yesterday! In celebration of this milestone, one lucky commenter will be picked at random to get a selection of books in a variety of genres, some autographed, along with some chocolate since BabyGrand has obviously tapped into the whole female and chocolate phenomenon. ::grin::