Wellness

 

Ah… the family meeting.  Have you ever tried to have one?  In our house we all gather around to discuss things like curfews, allowance, chores and bad behavior.  I know I could speak to them all separately about this stuff, but I’ve leaned that it’s much better to have a  witnesses because inevitably, somebody will fail at what’s expected and offer the excuse , “But mom, you never said that.”

But indeed, I did.

What annoys me the most about these family meetings is how everybody nods their heads and says exactly what I want to hear at the exact moment I want to hear it.    Do they know in advance that they’re not going to do one single thing we talked about?   Should I remain hopeful that when they look at me and nod that finally, they actually “get me?”

Let’s face it, they don’t.

Throughout the years I’ve called these family meetings and said things like this:   “I’m shutting of the internet at night;  if you want to borrow something from me you may, but only if you give me something valuable as a deposit,” and “please put things away after you’re done with them.”   You might recognize these results.

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The internet

Me.  “No internet after 10pm because none of you are getting enough sleep.” 

Them: ” You’re right mom.  We understand.”

                           One night after I put my policy into place

Husband:  “I haven’t gotten to where I can shut down the internet by each device yet, so just leave it on.”

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Borrowing

Them:  “Mom, where are the scissors?”

Me:   “I will let you have them for a dollar deposit.”

                          The next day.  

Me:  “Where are my scissors?”

Them:  “I thought I’d just keep them.  It’s only like, a buck, right?”

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Cleaning Up

Them:   “Where’s the honey?”

Me:   “It’s in the shed in the back of the yard.”

Them:  “Why?  Because I didn’t put it away?”

Me:  “Yes.”

Them:  “That’s okay, I’ll just use sugar.”

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I thought she couldn’t live without honey in her tea.   Seems she can.  The honey bear is still sitting it the shed in the back yard.  

I’ll get it in the spring. 

 

 

Parenting takes courage. We summon it from amazing places after our children are born.   Questions about bowel movements don’t embarrass us, interrogating babysitters becomes rote, facing off with teachers and other parents, making choices, suffering consequences, getting up and doing it over and over again.

Sometimes I’m motivated to do things because  my children are watching.  I want to lead by example because I think it’s the right thing to do.  And  because  I hated it when my mother said things to me like “Because I said so!” Of course when that happened, I immediately stopped doing, or started doing whatever it was I was supposed to, but really, is because I said so a reason?   Sometimes I wanted to say, “why don’t YOU do it?”  But that’s never a good thing to say to your mom.

So this leads me to the day I wanted my little girl to audition for a community theater show.   I wouldn’t do it, I have stage fright.   But I told her she should.   The disagreement followed and I won, but only “because I said so.”

As the years went by I remembered how I never tried out for my school plays, or auditioned for any of the solo parts in choir.  Was it fair for me to thrust them onto a stage when I never could find the courage to do that? I really had no idea what it was like to stand alone on a stage.  Why was I so scared?  More importantly, how could I get over it?

One day purely by chance I met a woman who was trying to put together an adult acting class, “a friendly atmosphere” with no auditions required. I thought okay, this may be the very thing I need. Surprisingly I didn’t hate it. But while I gained confidence, my classmates dropped out until I was the only one left in the class. But fate stepped in another door opened, but this time with real actors and a real goal – to complete an audition for a community theater production.  Egad.  I explained to this new group of experienced actors that I was doing this merely for self improvement and that I wasn’t sure about the whole audition thing.

Twelve weeks later I was literally a new me.  I was ready, monologue prepared, lights on, center stage – me. I found the courage to stand there alone, say my lines and deliver. I think I actually grew taller as the weight of that my burden departed.  I even got a tiny part in a tiny play.

Being strong for the kids is easy but being strong for myself took a little work. Even though there are no outward signs of my victory, I know I’m a better parent. I’m a better person.  Shaking off those school day inhibitions took a long time and I know it’s  cliché to say it but if I can do it, anybody can.   And frankly, I’d rather say that to my kids than say because I said so.

Recently, in a somewhat spirited conversation with my daughter, I was told that giving her advice “Isn’t your job.”   Of course without missing a beat I explained, again somewhat spiritedly, that giving advice is indeed my job and I continued to list other things in my job description

I won’t repeat it for you, because you’d tune me out just like she did.  But, I would like to name the top five things that I (am moms all over the world ) do, which teenagers forget about and for which I know they are eternally grateful, even if they don’t show it.

I potty trained them.  Without me they would  probably figure it out on their own but I think I am owed a little gratitude for setting them up for bathroom success.  Not to mention all the diaper changes and ‘accident management’ that I’ve provided.

I find the phone, the purse, the keys, the money,  the shoes, the permission slips, concert tickets, and the coat, to name a few.

I braid hair, trim hair, find hair elastics,  dye hair,  put it  in a bun, curl it, straighten it, even try to french braid (even though I stink at it) because you asked me to,  and then I suffer your bad moods when I fail.

I taught you the alphabet, how to count,  how to ride your bike, even how to clean the bathroom, but I guess you forgot that last part.

I am  your biggest fan, bar none.  I  go to  recitals,  shows, sports matches, I watch your cartwheels, I love your poetry, hang your artwork, and tolerate your non-stop singing and dancing when I’d rather be reading a book.  I am the cheerleader who encourages you to try when you want to stop, and I am there to understand when you’ve had all you can stand of trying.

I am mom.

 

 

 

 

It’s become a tradition that my daughter Emily & I make snow people in the winter.  Her sisters take the hot cocoa and indoor heat route to handle snow storms which is also attractive to me,  but I really need to build a snowman first.  Usually Em & I make one per snowfall or two if the snow is really cooperative.  A few years we ago we started naming them like winter storms.   So far we’ve had Alice, Brenda, Carlos, Dug, Elsa (of course), Floyd, George, Howard, and Irene. But the last time it snowed Emily insisted we name our snow gal Ophelia, in honor of her pineapple hair.   I’m not certain I get the association but but what’s the point in arguing a snowman’s name, really.  We’ll pick up the alphabetical order soon, maybe.

What I’ve learned from all the psychology books and classes and sessions, is that we either love or hate the way our own childhood went.  As a result we sometimes we go in some insane direction with our own childhood issues to love or hate the same things. I guess I loved making snowmen.   This year, with Ophelia still standing and more snow expected tonight, I hope we can give her some company but you never know with the weather where we live, so my fingers are crossed.

Another thing that Emily & I share every time it snows is cleaning off the cars.   This year we found a new way to clean off the tops.   As you can see, Emily really likes it.

People say that Emily & I look alike.   Whether you agree or not, we like a lot of the same things, especially when it comes to snow.

 

 

 

This year February has 29 days so it’s called a leap year. I set out to understand leap year via this internet but for me leap years are like technology …  I don’t really need to know how it works, I’ll just work with it.  Of course like any good Googler, I learned an awful lot about February, and pretty much skipped over the leap year bits but I found these 10 facts about February you might like to know.  

1. A lunar cycle is 29.5 days making February the only month in which it is possible to have no full moon.  Most years February will have a full moon but in 2018 there will be none. This doesn’t mean weird things won’t happen in February 2018, it only means that we can’t blame the full moon.
2. February 2nd is Groundhog Day, when Punxsutawney Phil will tell us if spring is right around the corner, or not.  Statistically, flipping a coin will provide the same percentage of accuracy as Phil, but that’s not nearly as cool.
3. February frequently occurs in lists of the most commonly misspelled words in the English language.  Last year a press release from the White House consistently spelled it as Feburary.
4. Black History Month is always the month of February and there are some really terrific movies to help educate us on this topic.  My personal favorite is Glory.  I still can’t get over the real face to face combat.  See Glory it if you can.
5. February is also: National Pet Dental Health Month; National Canned Food Month;  Hot Breakfast Month, Potato Lovers Month. You’ll have to choose which National Celebrations work best for you since there are no days off from work or school for these types of things.
6. President’s Day is always the third Monday of the month.  It was changed from the actual birthday of President Washington as  the result of the Uniform Holiday Monday Act from the 1968. This was signed under President Nixon.   He intended for it to be Washington’s Birthday but now we lump in Lincoln’s birthday too, and of course retail sales.
7. Valentines Day is February 14th. There are many stories of the history of Valentines Day.  Some theories include the poet Chaucer as the person who equated Valentines day with love, but the biography that I read makes no such association.
8. Non leap years are called common years.
9. If you were born on February 29th you were most likely conceived on June 8th or 9th. 
10.  Leap year babies (Feb 29th) have a special name … leaplings.

 

“That was some storm,” was the consensus among those shoveling and blowing snow from their driveways and cars in my neighborhood yesterday.   It had a winter storm name, Jonas, but mostly we called it a blizzard.

In 1983 there was a Megalopolitan Storm in NJ.   Because the national weather service wasn’t naming winter storms back then there’s little other frame of reference but as far as I know, it was the only Megalopolitan storm on record.

the February ’83 snowstorm was the biggest snowstorm of record in Philadelphia, eeking out the 21.0″ snowstorm that everyone remembers from Christmas 1909.

That was a written in 2010 in a “blast from the past” article about Philadelphia storms.   I don’t want to be adversarial but exactly who, in 2010, was part of the ‘everybody’ that remembers a blizzard from 1909?   Hmmm.

In 2014 we had a fabulous snow storm that was called a  bombogenesis?    Like the Megalopolitan of 1983 it had no other name .  If you paid attention in 9th grade English you know that the word means “bomb” for explosive, and “genesis” for beginning.    I also heard it called an Exploding NorEaster but in 2014 a Philadelphia meteorologist  used the word bombogenesis in a weather report and since then the term is not so uncommon here on the east coast.

Somebody needs to think up a term for the surge of shopping that comes before a storm.    There must be some measurable atmospheric pressure changes in the supermarket right before the wind kicks up.   This is one of my favorite reactions to a weather forecast gone wonky  Crazy Weather Map

 

 

We’re waiting for a blizzard tonight.  If it arrives like the weather channel is predicting we will have plenty of snow to rock a good snowman/woman/person/ball by morning.

Almost 13 years ago, in February 2003,  my brother paid us a visit.  He brought 3 beautiful Micky Mouse Costumes for my daughters who were 2,2, & 4 at the time.  He said they were ridiculously cheap Halloween leftovers from the Disney store and the girls could wear them next year.   My first thought was that I didn’t need to store 3 beautiful Mickey Mouse Halloween Costumes that won’t fit by  Halloween.  My second thought was thanks.   I overreacted, my trademark.   I hated them, the kids loved them.

His plan was to spend the day at our house and stay for supper, but he said the forecast was calling for a major snow and he wanted to leave in time to beat the storm.   Again, I overreacted telling him that he was crazy, I’d heard nothing about snow and he should not worry.  But okay,  “Go if you feel you must.” And so he did.  May I add another bit about stay at home mom burnout?  I never heard the news,  I watched Barney on TV and Elmo music in the car.   To learn the weather, I woke up and looked out the window.

So after he left, I forged outside with the girls to get ready for the snow, just in case my brother was right about the weather.   First stop was the craft store. I was not going to be without glue, paint, or play-do and be stuck in the house.  Food could wait.   I bundled up the kids and off we went just as the snow began to fall. I don’t remember exactly what we bought in Michaels but I do remember that by the time I got out of the store there was 3″ of snow on my car.  I put the kids in the car, brushed of the windshield and thought maybe I should stop at the A&P before going home, just in case.

In and out of the car with three preschoolers in a snow storm, I must have been crazy, or determined, or desperate.  I remember seeing the manager in the crowded store and suggesting he close since he was pretty much out of food,  but all we needed was a couple of boxes of captain crunch, some boxed milk, and we were good to go.

That afternoon and the night that followed we got almost two feet of snow.  I was wrong about the snow and I was wrong about the Mickey Mouse costumes.  The girls put them on and refused to take them off for two days.   They wore them to play, to nap, to eat, and to bed.   I was right however about Halloween, the costumes didn’t fit them by then.  But who cares.

One of the things I enjoy about Yiddish is how some of the words actually feel like their meaning.   Shmootz (dirt/yuk) for example.  There is no other way to describe shmootz, except that it’s… shmootz.

Another is Mazel Tov (congratulations).   There’s just something about the words coming as I speak them…I feel jubilant just saying it.

I tried to put some Yiddish in my conversation this morning.

Me: “Did you get the eye shmootz  from the dogs face?”

Him:   “I did!”

Me (petting the dog):    “Shayna punim.”

Me (to him):   Mazel Tov!

I hope you can find a few minutes and watch this video of some Jewish Seniors explaining Yiddish.

Grab a  nosh and settle in to hear the mishigas kibitzing all about  The Mysteries Of Yiddish

 

I’m trying to remember who taught me the way  to set a proper table but I’m not coming up with any distinct memory.  This means (a) it was too traumatic a lesson and I’ve erased the file, or (b) it just happened like putting on socks.  Probably it was the latter.

I bet my kids have no idea on which side the forks should be or where to put the water glass on a properly set table.  It’s not all their fault really since in our house it hardly matters.  We don’t have a dining room so our idea of setting the table is pretty much just pushing everything to one end of the kitchen table and fitting five people  on the other.

I think it’s kind of a shame that we’ve lost all sense of etiquette in our home  so as any tech savvy person living in the 20teens, I searched the internet for help and I found a list of some table manners / dining etiquette worthy of discussion.

1. SEATING ETIQUETTE –  Generally, the head of the family is the head of the table. This poses two problems for me because who’s in charge of the family changes at any given time, and,  our table is round.

2. FOOD SERVICE – Diners are supposed to help themselves to food and then pass each dish to others, or the hostess may dish out to food to each guest from the right.    We’ve tried the “take some and pass the platter” routine.  It never works.  Seems we are all good takers and but lousy passers.  Lucky for us the 1/2 table is small enough that you can pretty much reach everything you need without asking.    With regard to the hostess duties, I cook, I clean, I bitch and moan and mediate arguments – thus, I do not serve.

3. NAPKINS – You are supposed to remove the napkin from it’s pretty origami display and spread it on your lap immediately upon taking your place at the table.   Assuming we have napkins that day, they are cheap paper and far to small for folding.   If you use it and put it on your lap, our dog’s  interpretation is that you’re offering him  flavored paper which he will steal, and eat like a ninja.

4.  UTENSILS – I read that you should hold your fork in your left hand with tines facing down and cut your food in small pieces with your right index finger along the top of the knife blade.  Put your fork and knife down in between bites.   Now, I don’t pay much attention to who uses what, or  how,  when we eat.  As long as nobody bleeds or launches peas with their spoon, I’m happy.

5.  TABLE SETTINGS – this was just too long to reiterate however, the gist of it is forks on the left, knives on the right.   That’s so funny, we have forks in the dishwasher usually, and knives in the sink.  Wash one and use it.

There’s a ton more information about dining etiquette on the internet and if you are looking for examples of what NOT to do, you might enjoy this vignette from one of my favorite TV shows:   The King Of Queens  Bad Table Manners

But if you really want to enjoy a lesson on what you should be doing, try this how to on  Good Table Manners

Footnote:  I have set the table properly for us all once upon a time.   I never used paper plates and we had cloth napkins exclusively.   I know this doesn’t sound at all like me but it’s true.   One day I might break out some good china and give it another go.  If I only had good china.

 

This past weekend I had three days of blissful no phone/no fuss bonding, with a bunch of ladies who all shared the same goal.  To make pretty scrapbook pages,  to drink some wine, and to while away until the wee hours of the morning  knowing there was no need to get up early, no cleaning and no mediating arguments between minors for 54 solid hours.

According to the phone report that came in as I was preparing for the drive back home, my husband took care of the errands, the food shopping and doling out the chores while I was away.   Everybody was in a good mood, the house was cleaned up and dinner was in the oven.   “Take your time,”  he said, “enjoy your weekend.”

So as any smart woman would, I did just that.  I took my time and enjoyed my weekend.   I was the happiest kind of sleep deprived by Sunday evening and  I was hoping my relaxed stressless weekend could continue all the way until bedtime.

When I got home, the kids greeted me in the driveway.   They were all in a great mood.  Everybody helped unload the car and we moved pretty quickly from my homecoming to dinner and kitchen clean up.

After dinner as we relaxed together on the couch for a short while, I started to notice things not really done.  The barely vacuumed rugs, and the garbage that wasn’t taken out.  I checked with my husband to make sure he got everything at the supermarket and as it turns out the grocery list wasn’t completely purchased.  I gave him a sigh.  It wasn’t really so much that things went undone, it was more about those happy expectations he gave me that fell a little short of what I imagined.   He called to the girls, explained the situation to them and they redid what they were supposed to do, and they did it quickly and without any real complaints.   One finished the grocery list and the others finished the chores, shocking me, and providing a very nice ending to a very nice weekend.

But I guess my dear husband took the euphoria  with him when he left for work this morning, because by the 7:20AM school departure I’d already done it wrong, said it wrong, looked at them wrong, made the wrong food food choices and oh yeah, I didn’t wear a coat outside so accordingly I set an example that was wrong, wrong, wrong.    It occurred to me that none of that happens when dad’s in charge which brings me to this question.   Is it me?

 

It is.  It must be me, right?

Happy Monday .