In touring the kindergarten classrooms on parents' night, I noticed that one of the teachers had made a large poster containing the rules for the class. And amongst those words, one contained an INCORRECTLY used apostrophe. Ah, the future of our children...I think I shall donate a copy of "Eats Shoots and Leaves" to the school.

Sometimes you get a friend request on facebook and you don't really know who the person is, but you think you recognize the name and are too lazy to further investigate, so you shrug and put them on a limited access list. However, at some point you may be shopping and think that person might be in line behind you. However, since you never knew them in the first place, you really really don't know if that is he or she. And then you have to weigh what is better, greeting a complete stranger and having them wonder why the hell you're talking to them or ignoring someone who you accepted as a "friend"  in cyberspace. And then you have to think, Well they sent me a request, if they knew me, they'd probably say hi, right? So it probably isn't them. But what if they're waiting for me to say hi first?

And then you realize these are the problems that one has when you are on facebook and accept friend requests from people you don't really know. Which is a whole other issue. 

If you ever have an opportunity to visit the Naples Zoo, I highly recommend it.  It was at this location that my husband and son were peed on by a lion. Yes, that's right. Peed on by a lion.

Huh. Just read about a Dutch scientist who is testing a pill that helps to erase bad memories. I suppose that for people who suffer from post-traumatic stress syndrome, that would bring blessed relief. Especially if it allows you to retain all your memories save that particular event. I know people who have suffered from that and it destroys you. It eats you alive. If something could give you back your life...is that a bad thing?

 But what about the rest of us? What if the average joe could do that, erase memories you deemed painful, would you do it? 

I wouldn't. I have a memory for life events that I often wish would be faulty.  My sister is able to put things behind her and get about her day. Sometimes I wish I could do that. But i can't. My memories are like a shield of armor and the weight of lead. I can lie awake for half the night rueing something that happened in 5th grade. As much as I think it would be nice to be able to forget things that haunt me or torment me, I think I need those memories in my life. It helps to keep me in check and to keep me as the person I am and not the person I was. It reminds me to be grateful for kindness when and where I find it. It helps me to determine what behavior I can accept and what I cannot. And quite frankly, I need my past in order to live my present. As painful as some things may be, they have helped to shape who I am. I would not be as strong or as empathetic or insightful or appreciative or grateful if I did not have times of strife from which to draw. I don't know if you can ever appreciate how truly amazing is the emotion of happiness  if you have not experienced its counterpart.

And today's grocery store saga.

As we approach the cashier, I said to my son, "Don't let me forget the stamps." He has a much better memory than I with my poor old multi-tasking noggin.

Me to the cashier, "I need a book of stamps, please."

Mort, "You remembered! Good job, Mommy!"

Cashier to me, " Do you usually forget the stamps?"

Me, "Oh yeah, even if I write 'stamps' across the back of my hand I forget."

Cashier, "Don't feel bad. I forget too and I'm half your age."

I stared at her in complete bewilderment, unsure of how to answer. I pegged her at mid-thirties, so one of us was drastically off our age-o-meter.

She went on to say, "You're in your 40s, right?"

Me, "No..."

Her, "Well, how old are you then?"

Me, probably having a bright red face at this point, "36."

Her, waving a hand dismissively, "Okay, so you're pretty much 40."

Me, still staring at her in abject horror.

Her, "Well, you've got 16 years on me."

Me. Please stop talking. Please stop talking. Please stop talking. Please do not continue with your observations on how much older I look than my actual age.

That is the first time anyone has ever said it. I guess I'm in that bracket now. Man. wow. What a blow! I have heard that it happens around now, but still. I guess I thought I could keep the aging process at bay for a little longer.

I was hoping my mom's good genes were running rampant through my DNA. Ugh.

Not that it makes me feel great when people think I'm significantly younger than I am, either. Getting carded is silly, but I assume they have a strict boss who has gotten busted by undercover underagers. Late 20s and I appreciate your kind but inaccurate eye. Early 20s and I worry that I come across as dippy or that I dress too young for my age.

I didn't know it at the time, but I would gladly take worrying about that as opposed to being thought older than I am. And no, it shouldn't make me feel weird. But yes, it does.

I know in my heart of hearts that my inside (27) and outside (apparently in my 40s)no longer match. But for Pete's sake, you don't need to point it out!

I love my funny little kid. I laid out his clothes for him to get dressed while I was in the shower and for the first time, he had his own ideas about his outfit. " I thought I could wear my tie for the party today," he said. Of course I acquiesced.  Not only is it good for kids to feel control and make choices, I love that he decided upon such a rocking outfit for the day. Makes his momma proud.

Being driven insane by the wind. What makes the sound of wind so eerie and annoying? Lost power at 3 am, which surprisingly enough, woke me up. And then I felt compelled to stay awake to listen to the gusts and protect our home from it with my vigilance. 

i have been trying to stop taking Zyrtec. I can't imagine that it is good for the body to be so consistently on medication. I only lasted two days before my allergies took a turn for the worse. Maybe I can try again once the warm snap is over.

so weary today. I am having a hard time getting the party started.

Nights out sans the four foot person in the family are always exciting. Nothing actually has to happen in order for this to be so, it's just the act of venturing into the world with a bag that contains only your own essentials and not a jumble of snacks and kleenex and crayons and odd scraps of paper and Backugans. It's exciting to use a public restroom on your own, without having first to encase said restroom in Purell coated bubblewrap, screeching, "Don't touch that!" on an endless loop. It's exciting to not have to remind anyone about indoor voices and to be able to freely swear and/or use words like stupid without cringing and having anyone remind you that those are not very kind words.

It's enjoyable to just be able to concentrate on making fun of the people around you. Case in point, there were a gaggle of 50 somethings sitting behind us at Revolutionary Road last night who may or may not have imbibed too many glasses of Zima spritzers before hitting the road. Their voices overroad all other sounds. They had horrific cigarette and whiskey infused laughs. Their conversation was peppered with inanities such as, " I think that texting during a movie is so annoying! I think it's just the rudest thing anyone can do! Kids have no idea that the light from their phones ruins the movie for everyone! I just want to snatch the phone right out of their hands!" Yes, yes, texting is almost as annoying as...loud boozy women sitting behind you and not using their inside voices perhaps? A picture of Daniel Craig flashed upon the screen and one of the lovlies moaned, "MMMMMM! Look at him." Shudder. Another interrupted herself to ask, "What movie are we seeing again?" Cue laughter.

Also enjoyable are the never fail people who come in late to an almost full theater, yelling in a whisper, "I can't see a thing!" Well...yes. That's because it's a movie. Movies are viewed in the dark. The movie has already begun, hence the lack of lights. We're very sorry. Had we known you were coming, we would have waited. These people then must march up and own the stairs, "There's no seats! I don't see anywhere to sit!" before finally admitting defeat and slinking into the front row.

However, when you do not go out at night very often, these things become more of a fascination and less of an annoyance. It's like a play being performed for your own amusement.

Next up: people who wait in a very long line at the grocery store with their very full carts and then chose to pay with a check that they can only begin to fill out once all of their groceries have been packed and placed in their cart. They cannot have filled out their check at home, or while waiting in line because the date or the name of the grocery store may change. And they have to use checks because they have never heard of these new-fangled things called debit cards and/or cash. For some reason, people who pay with checks are also unable to write their check amount properly on the first try and must go through at least three checks and many questions before settling on a figure they deem acceptable.

Good stuff. Humans are immensely fascinating creatures.

How exactly does one suffer from allergies in the middle of winter? This is ridiculous.

Oh, give me a mofo Michael Phelps break. Uh-oh! A 23 yr. old smoked pot!?!? YIKES! That's never before happened to a 23 yr. old. I'm sorry....and this is news, why? Because he swims really fast? Unless he was babysitting your 2 year old at the time, hozabout you shut the hell up. In fact, an entire generation  of children born to parents who came of age in the 60s and 70s shows that even if he WAS babysitting your 2 year old, it would probably have been okay.

Oh, but he's a role model! Yeah? Says who? He's a guy who worked really hard and did really well at the Olympics. That's all he signed-up for. Why do people insist on making these people they don't even know into "role models"? Do you know who my role model was when I was growing-up? No one. Who the fuck has a role model? Sure, I thought Wonder Woman and Daisy Duke were pretty cool, but I didn't try to fly an invisible jet and I didn't try to get a job wearing short-shorts at the Boar's Nest.

What is this role model shit? Who looks up to athletes and celebrities? Isn't is silly to lament that Led Zeppelin spent their time rocking and throwing shit out of windows instead of mentoring children? 'Cause parents, that one is pretty much your job and no one else's. Now hand me my bong.

I really lost in the battle against insomnia last night. I slept only three hours.I went to bed at 9:30 and woke-up fully awake and ready for the day at 11:30. I was unable to fall asleep again until sometime after 4 and woke-up at 5.

I slept poorly the entire week, I think because I was fighting a cold, as was Mort, and I had mom ears on in case he needed me. I woke up every time so much as a snowflake drifted to the ground.

Somehow, however,I beat back my cold, even without sleeping. Yesterday, it was full-blown, despite my weak attempts to stave it off with Breathe Easy and Detox tea, vitamins and oj. My throat hurt, my head hurt, I was stuffed-up and achy and convinced I was barreling towards the flu. I drank 900 mugs of Throat Soother, Cold Season, and Echinacea tea and we sat outside breaking and throwing ice and snowballs for an hour to get fresh air and damned if my cold isn't 100% gone today.

I can't shovel the driveway with this heavy crust of ice because of my faulty back. We have that house, right now...the one in the neighborhood of lovely homes that is the single blight with the unshoveled driveway, ruining the symmetry of suburbia. But seriously, at least half of my neighbors have plow attatchments on their tractors and not one of them noticed our driveway needed to be shoveled and just went ahead and did it? In our old neighborhood, if someone's driveway needed shoveled, Dukeor any of the other neighbors would just go ahead and do it. If you can, why not? It saves someone else the bother of doing it. Yeesh. I mean, the driveways here are obscenely long, so it's not like I would expect anyone else to shovel it by hand, save for us, but if you're so bored that you're plowing the street with your tractor, help a sista out. That's all I'm saying.

On the other hand, I have these fantastic female friends who have offered to pack up their kids and come over to help me shovel. And they all know what a monstrosity our driveway is. When I got the first phone call, I almost started to cry with the sheer generosity of it. The e-mail from another friend just about did me in. Who has friends like that? Friends that in the midst of their own day and their own chores stop and think about you and wonder how you're faring and if there's any way they can make life easier for you. So so amazing. What a blessing. Straight out of a movie.

Mort saw his first icicle yesterday. He was so excited. It's the small moments like that that stop me in my tracks. We cleared off the swing set and slid down the slide into a pile of snow, we threw snowballs at the icicles to knock them down, we went sledding and ran through the ice-crusted yard. There are rabbit tracks frozen across our porch.

I am blessed and blessed and blessed some more. Friday was spent with friends, the afternoon devoted to children poking chunks of ice with sticks. Isn't it funny; we spend money on swingsets and sandboxes and various "outdoor" toys, when in all reality, all a child needs to be amused for an entire afternoon is a block of ice, a stick and his or her imagination. Life the way it should be. When my mush was an infant, I did subscribe to the "trees makes the best mobiles" philosophy, that children don't need loud electronic toys, they need your pots and pans and tupperware and rubber spatulas. They need to lie on a blanket outside and watch the wind blow the clouds. I guess if you're lucky, you realize that never changes, that given the chance, kids will always make their own fun.

I am starting to map out my garden for this year. I'm going to start composting and I think I can till the soil myself or with the help of a herd of preschool kids armed with shovels and giggles. I have knowledgeable friends who told me to plant my corn and beans and peas together because corn pulls nitrate from the soil and legumes release it. Also, the legumes will use the corn shocks as their climbing posts. I need to better focus on stagger planting and keep up with the weeds. I am pretty excited for the planting season to begin.

I have written and erased four full blogs today.

 

I took down the Christmas wreath I had forgotten was still hanging on our front door.

I waved and laughed as my son yelled, "Hi Mommy! Mommy, look at me!" swinging in a harness high above a trampoline.

I drank tea and ate cereal.

I cried with joy and awe as our new President was sworn into office.

I wondered what in God's name George Bush Sr. was wearing on his head. I think it was a Davy Crockett hat, but I can't be certain.

I discovered a puddle of water in our basement when I went downstairs to adjust the house humidifier.

I looked out the window 407 times to see if my son was soon arriving home from his playdate.

I overwatered yet another plant.

I made appointments for passports and puzzled over what to put down for Jay's eye color.

The sun is shining.

It is a good day. 

Gratitude

In these few moments that I am not cranky, these are the things today for which I am grateful:

1) Heather's super funny e-mail

2) Finally getting to the root of Mort's bizarre teenage attitude problem

3) Catching snowflakes on our tongues

4) Making Valentines with my Valentine

5) Watching Mort write his very first independent birthday message

6) Chili and Speakeasy Big Daddy

7) Getting on the library waiting list for The Electric Company

8) Finding uncured, nitrate-free bacon; I don't eat it, but the rest of my family does

9) The giant piano keys from the movie Big being moved to the Please-Touch Museum

10) Tea on a cold day

I am so freaking cranky lately for no discernable reason. I am an absolute pill. I can't fathom how my family can stand to be around me. and there is no reason for me to be like this. I wake-up, I'm fine. I go to sleep, I'm fine. In between, I am snappy and grouchy and want to grab my words from the air every time I speak. Do I need to be outside? Do I need exercise? More sunshine?  Vitamins? Highlights? More things crossed off my to-do list? I'm reading rather obsessively, book after book after book...sometimes when I do that, I think I become too entranced with the story I'm reading and become resentful of anything that pulls me from it. Great for being a college Lit major. Not so great for being a mom. I love the changing of the seasons, but I'm done with winter. Spring and fall should be extended and winter and summer should be shortened. That is my decree. Other than that, I plan on making a concerted effort to stop being such a joysucker.

the gamble of yoga dvds

i had out all my props and was ready to enjoy a good yoga session this morning. everyone seems unusually tense and cranky for reasons none of us can discern and i needed that yoga high. i had scooped up some new dvds form a discount bin. big mistake. i went through two of them before throwing in the towel and losing motivation. yoga is not just twisting your back. yoga is not aerobics. just in case the producers of either video is reading this and needs my input.

i've been awake for three hours and the day seems endless. i'm in a funk. i need some sunshine. sunshine is actually slated for next month, but i have put on my holiday 10 and can't fathom attempting to fit into my summer clothes right now. yeah. i should probably do something about that.

crap

what a crap day. made more so by the fact that it should have been a great one. the stars just were not aligned. cranky kid. unwelcome person at a friend's house whom i overheard on the phone to his wife being a full-blown cold asshole. he is probably the joy sucker. you expect to see someone bubbly and lovely and there he is instead. plus the fact that i had to hear him be cruel to her. i'm tired. i'm low. i was going to make a hair appointment, but now i think i'm going to do it myself. i'm not even excited at the prospect of slugging back the speak easy big daddy ipa. okay, i'm a little excited for that.

i have so many niggling little things to do. swim lesson sign-up, decisions about plans for the spring, i almost bought a bunch of organic seeds today before i remembered that i may not get to have my garden this year. this is the last year of having my child at home with me. i am not looking forward to next fall. i can't stand the thought of being apart from him for 8 hours every day next year. i'll have to find a job just to prevent myself from stalking him. 

titles are challenging

I heard from my editor  and the woman for whom I ghostwrote an article based upon the  Jewish traditions  in her life was very pleased with the result. It feels so good to have accurately captured her tale in a way that she is happy to have her name attached to it. Especially as I am about 40 years younger and a lapsed Catholic who wrote the article surrounded by a giant pile of books and two computers  and it was my first attempt at writing in the voice of a person I didn't invent. Although, in that way, maybe it was easier. I had a definitive, non-negotiable personality to capture whereas when I write fiction, I have to embody my characters and they can change at the whim of my mood or lack of sleep.

Speaking of which, it was another 3am wake-up. Ugh. 

Okay, I'm lying here zoning out.

I am very glad that I do not eat scallops as I discovered yesterday during one of our marathon reading sessions that scallops have 100 eyes. Can you imagine eating something with 100 eyes? How disgusting is that? I'm not coming from a selfless we are all one point of view. I find all shellfish to be pretty foul. Lobster and shrimp are freaking insects. Anything encased in a shell has the texture of something that's been encased in a shell. It doesn't help when you go to the beach and have the misfortune of entering one of those places where people are hunched over picnic tables surrounded by mounds of crab shells and corncobs, grunting and shoveling food into a greasy mouth with their thick fingers. Blick. I'll take fake crabmeat in my sushi , thanks.

Om

I started my yoga practice again yesterday. I've been fearful of reentering it as so many poses would force me to move in a way in which my disc would be compromised. But I've missed it. I don't know how floaty I want to be, but I have found that I truly am infused with this amazing sense of calm and lightness by the end of a session. It's certainly not something I am able to achieve by running or walking or aerobic sizing. And what's more, my thighs are burning as I walk up and down the stairs today. Warrior pose? Triangle pose? Regardless, I would love to incorporate that feeling into my everyday life.

However, achieveing serenity and a yoga body takes a long time. It's not like pounding out a warm-up, cool-down, and three miles in 30 minutes on the treadmill. It's a good 90 minute session and I just don't know how to carve that chunk of time out for myself without being interrupted to refill someone's milk or find a missing Bakagun. 

For instance, I could be doing so right now. But I feel like I'm only 1 1/2 cups of coffee into a 4 cup day. I don't have the energy to walk upstairs and create my studio. I wish I could sound way lazier. Namaste.

Cruel tricks at the DMV

I had to get my driver's license picture taken today. I didn't want a 4 year reminder of how sallow and old and washed-out and ill I look with the dark pit of hair my hairdresser has bestowed upon me. Sooo, I pulled on one of my 237 trusty berets and away went I.

Haha, though, wasn't the joke on me when I sat down and was instructed to remove my hat. What kind of sick mind came up with that rule? If it was a baseball hat or anything with a brim that obscured the view of my face, obviously that's just common sense. But a beret that held back my hair and was positioned on the back of my head...

And c'mon, I'm a female. Would I have a hat on if I deemed my hair acceptable? Can any female with long hair whip off  her hat and have camera ready hair? (And in my world, the answer is no!)

No. No, they cannot. So, not only do I have a tangled mop of black hair that makes me look like I'm just getting over a case of mono, but it's hair that looks like it was either shoved under a hat or hair that belongs to one who is a bit on the side of "Don't give the crazy lady a license!" It's a new low in the horridness that is driver's license photography.