Los Angeles, California
Sources quoted from the L.A. County District Attorneys’ Office said today that charges will be filed before the end of the week against Mr. Santa Claus, aka Saint Nicholas, President and CEO of North Pole Enterprises, stemming from allegations of assault and battery against several area housewives. Sources stated that investigators at the DA’s office have been combing through several years worth of police reports, each claiming that Mr. Claus broke into homes and assaulted women, in some cases repeatedly kissing them, before escaping through open windows or out the front doors. Many of the reports were filed by children of the women who then refused to speak with police when contacted for follow up and some claims are reportedly from the late 1950s. The sources indicate that these attacks seem to happen in December each year and the number of reports spike each January.
Mr. Claus has not been reached for comment, but some officers of North Pole Enterprises, who spoke to this reporter on the condition of anonymity, claim that the pending charges are a result of more recent claims by high profile celebrities such as Jessica Simpson, Reba McEntire, John Mellancamp and Disney’s The Cheetah Girls and argued that without such high profile claims, the charges would not have even been filed. Others claim that the reports are all cases of mistaken identity, given the fact that suits similar to those worn in public by Mr. Claus can be found at many retail locations.
LAPD records show that police reports were also filed by Frankie Valli, Travis Tritt (a noted Country music artist), the group Twisted Sister (each member claiming that their respective mothers were attacked by Mr. Claus at a holiday party) and a joint report filed by the Jackson 5. In a slightly shocking twist, it was discovered that Ru Paul filed a report against Mr. Claus claiming that he attacked and kissed Mr. Paul’s father.
It is unknown whether Mr. Claus will be allowed to quietly turn himself in following the official filing of the charges or if he will be arrested and booked at the Central Jail downtown. Some employees interviewed at North Pole Enterprises stated that this was an incredibly busy time for the company, which increases its toy production by over 150 % in the months of October, November and December. Mr. Claus is known for his hands-on approach to business management and it has been reported that Mr. Claus often works alongside his employees to make sure year-end production levels are met. If Mr. Claus is arrested or asked to turn himself in prior to December 25, several employees worried that production requirements might not be met and they would not receive their holiday bonus.
This is not the first report of allegations against Mr. Claus. Several years ago, PETA and other animal rights organizations publicly spoke out against Mr. Claus for cruelty to animals. It was reported that Mr. Claus kept several reindeer at his factory, utilizing them to pull heavy loads of toys and other products. PETA members claimed that Mr. Claus overworked the animals and fed them only carrots donated by local school children. Mr. Claus was also the target of claims by Elves Union 226, which represents much of the workforce at North Pole Enterprises, who alleged that Mr. Claus violated state regulations regarding overtime and mandatory employee break times. The Union also claimed that Mr. Claus cared little for the health and welfare of his employees, offering only candy canes, gum drops and other sugary confections in the company’s cafeteria vending machines. The Union voted for a strike two years ago but withdrew the vote following a confidential settlement with the company which many believe included an overhaul of the company’s cafeteria.
Unnamed sources close to North Pole Enterprises have also indicated that Mr. Claus is the subject of another ongoing investigation of bribery and allegedly taking favors in exchange for yachts, diamond jewelry from Tiffany’s, deeds to penthouse apartments and blank checks.
Tomorrow’s report: rumors circulate as to whether or not Justin Bieber is actually an elf, formerly an employee of North Pole Enterprises.
Disneyland Family 5K -2014
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
The Value of Friendship
Over the past few weeks, I have been reminded a few times, in a few different ways, of the value of friendship. My first reminder came on Thanksgiving Day. I spent my day as many of you probably did, watching the parade in the morning, snuggled on the couch with the girls. Oh wait - I watched part of the parade from the couch - the other part I watched from the kitchen as I baked pumpkin pies. Mom came over before dinner and we spent some time just catching up while going through the ads for Black Friday. As we got ready to go to dinner at my brother and sister's house, I gathered up my things along with my cell phone and noticed that I had a voice mail. Cell reception in my house is notoriously bad, so I wasn't surprised that the phone had not even rung. But I was surprised at the message. It was my friend Arran, someone I have known for almost 20 years (as strange as it is for me to say that.) We met in college when he came to visit a friend who lived in the same dorm as me and I was hanging out with friends in the guys' hall. Despite the usual ups and downs of our respective lives, the passage of more than 15 years, countless moves to several different states, various boyfriends, girlfriends, break-ups and a marriage (mine,) we have stayed friends. He was even in my wedding. We have survived much that life has thrown at us and have shared much of our lives with each other. Not always as it has happened, but there have certainly been some late night and early morning (thanks to the time difference) phone calls. He was there when my life hit a particular low, one of the first people that I called, and I was able to be there for him when his Dad passed away, something that I know was incredibly tough for him.
Through it all, I am happy to say that we have remained friends. So why was this a reminder to me? Because sometimes I think that some of my friends do a better job at "friendship" than I do. His call was just to say hello and tell me that he was thinking of me and wishing me a happy holiday, "love" to my family. It was a wonderful message and I was touched. At the same time, I was a bit ashamed because, for all of the times that I might think of him and wonder how he's doing, how many times do I pick up the phone and say hello?
My second reminder came last week, again through my cell phone. It rang and I did not recognize the number and was up to my elbows in Kensi's toys and fun. After putting her down for a nap, I checked my voice mail. It was my friend Val, just checking in. I met Val back in 2007 through a random set of circumstances. I registered for a weekend scrapbooking event in Anaheim and through various online discussions, connected with several other women from Valencia who were also going to the event. We met up several times before the event and have remained friends (albeit some closer than others) since then. Our little group has added a few members here and there and a few children since 2007, but we still get together to scrapbook and check in on each other. Val's husband has a job that requires moves from time to time, and so in 2010 (I think,) we had to say goodbye as she moved to Texas. We've tried to stay in touch and she has visited a few times, even staying with me. Despite the distance and the random start to our friendship, I count her among my closest friends. Her message was just to say hello and to tell me that she as thinking of me. She was also wondering if I had started my holiday baking yet (I have and my freezer is running out of cookie room!) I was again touched that a friend would reach out to me, just to say hello and again ashamed - another person being a better friend to me than I might be to her.
The next day I sat down and wrote her an email. I apologized for not getting her call and told her how much her friendship means to me, even though I may not get the chance to say it that often. I hope to do a better job at connecting with my friends, using Val's example.
My last recent reminder of friendship was, unfortunately, a sad one. Just last week, while checking Facebook, I saw a post by a high school friend, saying "good bye" to someone that graduated with my sister, Candy. Matt Kover was a larger-than-life presence that I remembered well from high school, even though he graduated a few years ahead of me. Always ready with a joke and able to make the crowd laugh, I remember his big bear hugs. After reading my friend's post of good-bye to Matt, I scoured facebook and all of my Jefferson connections to see if there was more information. At the time, there was little. Over the next few days, I learned that Matt had passed unexpectedly, something related to a diabetic coma or insulin problem. I touched base with several friends back home who knew him well and was added to his Facebook page where people began to leave messages. I was saddened by his passing because I think he was one of the good ones - someone who lived his life for others, intent on making people laugh and feel good just to be around him. I haven't seen Matt in years, but was immediately reminded of him through the posts of his close friends. Sadly, many posts spoke of time past since seeing Matt and wishes for a closer relationship.
Matt's passing reminded me, again, of the value and blessing of friendships and of the uncertainty of life. No matter how careful we are or how routine our lives, something can change in the blink of an eye and suddenly our course is changed, our lives are different and someone that we love very much could be gone. I, for one, am going to make an effort to change - to tell my friends that they are important to me. It can start with a personal note in the holiday cards, a quick telephone call just to say hello. I'm lucky to say that I have friends in many states, and even a few in other countries. I will be reaching out to all of them this holiday season. I do not want another day to pass without those people knowing that they are important to me.
Perhaps I met you as a child, or in high school. Maybe we had class together in college or commiserated about professors in law school. Odds are, if you are reading this, we have maintained a connection and for that, I am grateful. We may not speak every day, or even once a week. But I check in on you from time to time. I see your photos and your posts and I know that you are doing o.k. I hope to do a better job of just saying "hello" and letting you know that someone is thinking about you. I hope that if you happen to think about me, you'll do the same.
Let's make an effort to stay better connected. It sounds cliche, but if I have learned anything over the past few weeks, it is that life can be short. We should take advantage of the time we have, starting right now.
Through it all, I am happy to say that we have remained friends. So why was this a reminder to me? Because sometimes I think that some of my friends do a better job at "friendship" than I do. His call was just to say hello and tell me that he was thinking of me and wishing me a happy holiday, "love" to my family. It was a wonderful message and I was touched. At the same time, I was a bit ashamed because, for all of the times that I might think of him and wonder how he's doing, how many times do I pick up the phone and say hello?
My second reminder came last week, again through my cell phone. It rang and I did not recognize the number and was up to my elbows in Kensi's toys and fun. After putting her down for a nap, I checked my voice mail. It was my friend Val, just checking in. I met Val back in 2007 through a random set of circumstances. I registered for a weekend scrapbooking event in Anaheim and through various online discussions, connected with several other women from Valencia who were also going to the event. We met up several times before the event and have remained friends (albeit some closer than others) since then. Our little group has added a few members here and there and a few children since 2007, but we still get together to scrapbook and check in on each other. Val's husband has a job that requires moves from time to time, and so in 2010 (I think,) we had to say goodbye as she moved to Texas. We've tried to stay in touch and she has visited a few times, even staying with me. Despite the distance and the random start to our friendship, I count her among my closest friends. Her message was just to say hello and to tell me that she as thinking of me. She was also wondering if I had started my holiday baking yet (I have and my freezer is running out of cookie room!) I was again touched that a friend would reach out to me, just to say hello and again ashamed - another person being a better friend to me than I might be to her.
The next day I sat down and wrote her an email. I apologized for not getting her call and told her how much her friendship means to me, even though I may not get the chance to say it that often. I hope to do a better job at connecting with my friends, using Val's example.
My last recent reminder of friendship was, unfortunately, a sad one. Just last week, while checking Facebook, I saw a post by a high school friend, saying "good bye" to someone that graduated with my sister, Candy. Matt Kover was a larger-than-life presence that I remembered well from high school, even though he graduated a few years ahead of me. Always ready with a joke and able to make the crowd laugh, I remember his big bear hugs. After reading my friend's post of good-bye to Matt, I scoured facebook and all of my Jefferson connections to see if there was more information. At the time, there was little. Over the next few days, I learned that Matt had passed unexpectedly, something related to a diabetic coma or insulin problem. I touched base with several friends back home who knew him well and was added to his Facebook page where people began to leave messages. I was saddened by his passing because I think he was one of the good ones - someone who lived his life for others, intent on making people laugh and feel good just to be around him. I haven't seen Matt in years, but was immediately reminded of him through the posts of his close friends. Sadly, many posts spoke of time past since seeing Matt and wishes for a closer relationship.
Matt's passing reminded me, again, of the value and blessing of friendships and of the uncertainty of life. No matter how careful we are or how routine our lives, something can change in the blink of an eye and suddenly our course is changed, our lives are different and someone that we love very much could be gone. I, for one, am going to make an effort to change - to tell my friends that they are important to me. It can start with a personal note in the holiday cards, a quick telephone call just to say hello. I'm lucky to say that I have friends in many states, and even a few in other countries. I will be reaching out to all of them this holiday season. I do not want another day to pass without those people knowing that they are important to me.
Perhaps I met you as a child, or in high school. Maybe we had class together in college or commiserated about professors in law school. Odds are, if you are reading this, we have maintained a connection and for that, I am grateful. We may not speak every day, or even once a week. But I check in on you from time to time. I see your photos and your posts and I know that you are doing o.k. I hope to do a better job of just saying "hello" and letting you know that someone is thinking about you. I hope that if you happen to think about me, you'll do the same.
Let's make an effort to stay better connected. It sounds cliche, but if I have learned anything over the past few weeks, it is that life can be short. We should take advantage of the time we have, starting right now.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Ramblings
Ah, Thanksgiving weekend. Is there any pie left? The Black Friday shopping is done and the Saturday deals have been taken advantage of. There were no flat screen t.v.s to chase down (where would we put it?) and we all have our iPads and iPods and don't really need portable DVD players for the car (yet.) As Saturday evening slowly drifts into Sunday morning, we are left with the remains of a weekend, when the bustle dies down to quiet reflection. The sales are over but the weekend hasn't quite passed and we have a few moments before the return to work and the "real world." Besides a trip to the theater to wile away a few hours, what is one to do but look back, reflect, look forward and think.
I think I ate too much. I think I need to do a better job of working out. I think I'm a bad mom. What?!? Oh, don't get me wrong, I love my girls, but I think I am failing Brooklyn this month/birthday. I am failing her because I did not have time to handmake invitations to her party. I am failing her because I did not have time to plan a big party and instead we are taking just a few of her friends to Color Me Mine and out for lunch. I am failing her because when I told her to put things on her "wish list," I forgot to write them down.
When we were shopping yesterday, we stopped at Build-A-Bear to look around. She asked if she could have the $5 special gingerbread person. Tired from hearing "can I?" and "I want!" I finally relented and told her that I would buy her the $5 gingerbread person, but only if she walked over to the Toys for Tots container at the front of the store and drop it in. You see, we have plenty of "friends" that Brooklyn plays with and sleeps with. But I know there are children out there who don't have "plenty." I'm a bad mom, I suppose, for making Brooklyn donate the gingerbread girl. Someday she might remember it though, and someday she might thank me for teaching her to think about others.
Sometimes, the tried and true, old reliable things are the way to go. I'm just saying. There is a place for new and exciting, but there are times when old reliable is good too.
Friends, even old ones, can surprise you sometimes. Just when you are completely bogged down in "life," someone you least expect to hear from calls and leaves you a message. You are floored that he would think of you and grateful that he called just to say hello. You promise yourself that you are going to work harder to be the kind of friend to him that he is to you. And sometimes, just for a second, you wonder "what if?"
There just aren't enough hours in the day to do everything we want to do. Something has to fall by the wayside. Will it be the holiday decorations, the papers to be graded, that scrapbook page that just hasn't been finished, the cleaning, playing with the girls or the reading books with the kids at bedtime? When in doubt, the girls win hands down. I try to drop what I'm doing because at the end of the day, they are more important that just about anything. Sometimes it is hard to remember what my true focus is, especially when I think I'm working on something for them, or trying to preserve a little piece of them for the memory books. But in the end, the time with them will make the memories and without them, what would I have to scrapbook? In the end, there are still dishes in the sink, the decorations aren't up, the pictures aren't printed and who knows when the school work will get done. But we went to dinner together and we walked around and we played before we said goodnight.
No matter how long I live in California - holiday lights will always look funny on houses without snow in the yard.
No Black Friday deal is worth the trouble if it means pepper spray or getting beat up or having a cop think you are shoplifting. I'd rather stay home and shop online in my jammies where I can watch t.v. at the same time.
One of these days, I will finish my book by actually putting it down on paper. It's starting to take up too much space in my head and I'm getting confused. That or I'm just getting old.
I did photo books of each of Brooklyn's first 5 years of life. I just finished putting Kensi's first year book together and ordered it. I'm wondering if she will be mad at me and ever forgive me if I don't do years 2 through 5 separately and instead combine her book with Brooklyn next year. I do them for the relatives, not for us - for us, I do the scrapbooks. I need to figure out how to let some of this guilt go (does this make me a bad mom?)
Every time I hear a kid screaming bloody murder or throwing a tantrum in a store, I thank God that my kids don't act like that. B has thrown a tantrum once or twice, but never that loud or crazy. We don't let it get that far. No, we don't cave and give her what she wants - we walk out of the store and go home. And we usually take something else away too, just to show her who is in charge (we have to remind ourselves from time to time too.) Some might say that I'm a bad parent because I say "no!" to my children. Those people can come talk to me in about 20 years when my kids are the upstanding members of society, helping clean up the streets by putting away those individuals whose parents didn't say "no."
The holidays are upon us full force. The lights are up, the music is on and the race to find the perfect presents has begun. I miss Grandma Wolf and her stockings hung down the staircase, the trips to the woods to find just the right Christmas trees and the kids table at Christmas dinner. I miss Grandma Norton and dinner at her house followed by presents followed by DQ ice cream cake for Carol's birthday. Every once in awhile, I catch a whiff of her perfume. I think she's just checking in to see that everything is o.k.
There is no rhyme or reason to this post. Just ramblings and reflections as the Thanksgiving holiday winds down and the Christmas race winds up. Somewhere in the midst of it all I will find the time to finish what needs to be done, to make the things that need to be made, to grade the papers, to do the work, to celebrate. But I'll stop from time to time and take it all in. I'll sit with the girls and cuddle, marveling in their spirit and energy. For now, I think I'll go read a bit before bed. It's been a long day!
I think I ate too much. I think I need to do a better job of working out. I think I'm a bad mom. What?!? Oh, don't get me wrong, I love my girls, but I think I am failing Brooklyn this month/birthday. I am failing her because I did not have time to handmake invitations to her party. I am failing her because I did not have time to plan a big party and instead we are taking just a few of her friends to Color Me Mine and out for lunch. I am failing her because when I told her to put things on her "wish list," I forgot to write them down.
When we were shopping yesterday, we stopped at Build-A-Bear to look around. She asked if she could have the $5 special gingerbread person. Tired from hearing "can I?" and "I want!" I finally relented and told her that I would buy her the $5 gingerbread person, but only if she walked over to the Toys for Tots container at the front of the store and drop it in. You see, we have plenty of "friends" that Brooklyn plays with and sleeps with. But I know there are children out there who don't have "plenty." I'm a bad mom, I suppose, for making Brooklyn donate the gingerbread girl. Someday she might remember it though, and someday she might thank me for teaching her to think about others.
Sometimes, the tried and true, old reliable things are the way to go. I'm just saying. There is a place for new and exciting, but there are times when old reliable is good too.
Friends, even old ones, can surprise you sometimes. Just when you are completely bogged down in "life," someone you least expect to hear from calls and leaves you a message. You are floored that he would think of you and grateful that he called just to say hello. You promise yourself that you are going to work harder to be the kind of friend to him that he is to you. And sometimes, just for a second, you wonder "what if?"
There just aren't enough hours in the day to do everything we want to do. Something has to fall by the wayside. Will it be the holiday decorations, the papers to be graded, that scrapbook page that just hasn't been finished, the cleaning, playing with the girls or the reading books with the kids at bedtime? When in doubt, the girls win hands down. I try to drop what I'm doing because at the end of the day, they are more important that just about anything. Sometimes it is hard to remember what my true focus is, especially when I think I'm working on something for them, or trying to preserve a little piece of them for the memory books. But in the end, the time with them will make the memories and without them, what would I have to scrapbook? In the end, there are still dishes in the sink, the decorations aren't up, the pictures aren't printed and who knows when the school work will get done. But we went to dinner together and we walked around and we played before we said goodnight.
No matter how long I live in California - holiday lights will always look funny on houses without snow in the yard.
No Black Friday deal is worth the trouble if it means pepper spray or getting beat up or having a cop think you are shoplifting. I'd rather stay home and shop online in my jammies where I can watch t.v. at the same time.
One of these days, I will finish my book by actually putting it down on paper. It's starting to take up too much space in my head and I'm getting confused. That or I'm just getting old.
I did photo books of each of Brooklyn's first 5 years of life. I just finished putting Kensi's first year book together and ordered it. I'm wondering if she will be mad at me and ever forgive me if I don't do years 2 through 5 separately and instead combine her book with Brooklyn next year. I do them for the relatives, not for us - for us, I do the scrapbooks. I need to figure out how to let some of this guilt go (does this make me a bad mom?)
Every time I hear a kid screaming bloody murder or throwing a tantrum in a store, I thank God that my kids don't act like that. B has thrown a tantrum once or twice, but never that loud or crazy. We don't let it get that far. No, we don't cave and give her what she wants - we walk out of the store and go home. And we usually take something else away too, just to show her who is in charge (we have to remind ourselves from time to time too.) Some might say that I'm a bad parent because I say "no!" to my children. Those people can come talk to me in about 20 years when my kids are the upstanding members of society, helping clean up the streets by putting away those individuals whose parents didn't say "no."
The holidays are upon us full force. The lights are up, the music is on and the race to find the perfect presents has begun. I miss Grandma Wolf and her stockings hung down the staircase, the trips to the woods to find just the right Christmas trees and the kids table at Christmas dinner. I miss Grandma Norton and dinner at her house followed by presents followed by DQ ice cream cake for Carol's birthday. Every once in awhile, I catch a whiff of her perfume. I think she's just checking in to see that everything is o.k.
There is no rhyme or reason to this post. Just ramblings and reflections as the Thanksgiving holiday winds down and the Christmas race winds up. Somewhere in the midst of it all I will find the time to finish what needs to be done, to make the things that need to be made, to grade the papers, to do the work, to celebrate. But I'll stop from time to time and take it all in. I'll sit with the girls and cuddle, marveling in their spirit and energy. For now, I think I'll go read a bit before bed. It's been a long day!
Monday, October 24, 2011
Dear 16 Year Old Me
On Good Morning America this morning, they were profiling a new book which was made up of letters that various people wrote to their 16 year old selves. Some were celebrities, athletes, authors, people from all walks of life. It got me thinking. What would I tell my 16 year old self. Just before my 16th birthday, I started my Junior year in High School. I was deeply ensconced in the shadow of an older sister who was a senior, a basketball hero and bigger than me, and I was trying to find my own way. I was doing so many things, trying desperately to find the thing that felt right, that made me feel "all right" and "good enough." I had friends, but struggled with the idea that there were people with whom I did not fit in. I had a boyfriend and constantly wondered if I was good enough and was always waiting for a reason to break up, so that I wouldn't have to wait for him to break my heart and leave me. I was tall and gangly, projecting a secure and upbeat persona to the world and hugging my teddy bear at night. I dreamt of a car for my birthday, and instead got a desk for my bedroom and a teddy bear that I picked out at CostCo. Here is what I would say.
Dear 16 Year old Me,
Having been through a few more years and seen a few more things, I wanted to give you some notes to help you through the next few years.
Family - Go sit down and talk to Grandma Wolf and Grandpa and Grandma Norton. Find out all that you can about them and take notes. Video tape them if you can. Ask them to tell you stories about when they were children, where they came from, their siblings and what life was like. You won't have the opportunity to really know your Dad, so ask Grandma Wolf about him. Get as much information as possible from her about who he was as a little boy and what his life was like. Ask Grandma Norton about Mom. Find out what she was like as a little girl. Learn the secrets that even at 37, you still haven't learned directly from her. There will come a day when your grandparents will be gone and you will wish that you could give (and get) one more hug and spend one more day talking. So go do it now.
Sports - Using something I heard this morning, "Play your own game." Right now, you are still "Trixie's Little Sister" or "Wolf 3." It may not seem like it, but there will come a time when you will succeed (or fail) on your own merits, when the people that you play with will not know your sister and will have no idea what she did before you. On the volleyball court, I know you are struggling right now with riding the pine, hoping for that day when you will "shine." It will come. You will excel, you will succeed and you will be a star in your own right.
Men - ugh. To quote (probably incorrectly) something I have seen and heard many times before: "The boys who make you cry aren't worth it. And the boys who are worth it won't make you cry." Or something like that. It holds true. You are not defined by the guys that you date or don't date. Even when it seems like everyone else is in love or in a relationship, be secure in just being you. Don't give in to the pressure to have a boyfriend or a date just because everyone else is doing it. And in February of you junior year, when he really puts the pressure on you to "take the next step" in your relationship, just say "no!" There is plenty of time to experience sex and trust me, you are not ready for it. Something else - get to know yourself and who you like to be when no one else is around. Only when you are comfortable being by yourself, will you be comfortable being with anyone else. One more thing - this year's guy is not "the one." And next year's model is not "the one" either. They will show you things about yourself that will make you stronger, but they are not the solution to your problems or the keepers of your dreams. Don't let them be. You are the solution and the key.
Life in General - Don't compromise! People will continue to laugh at you and tell you that you cannot accomplish all that you want to. Ignore them. You'll get there. But just a warning, you will have to eat ramen noodles for a few years while you are in grad school. It gets better though and there is Prime Rib in your future! You will have days that will break your heart. You will make friends and lose friends. You will laugh and cry, smile with utter joy and scream in pure anger. You will make it through all of that and you will come out on the other side. You haven't written your novel or screenplay yet, but we're still working on it. You will continue to take pictures and you will drive everyone nuts with it. When you are older and have kids, you will have scrapbooks full of pictures from you senior year in high school, so make sure to save up now for the film. Your older daughter loves looking at pictures of you in high school.
School - No matter what Mr. Havens says, you probably will not use that math in real life. Tell Mr. P. that he will run for office someday. We suggest a certain "Oval" office would fit him nicely. Remember to thank Mrs. Pelton for introducing you to mystery novels. But tell her that you still read romance novels too. There will come a time when you will not be called a "nerd" or a "geek" for liking school, so keep at it. Believe me, there are places where people compete to have the best grades (and some are pretty cut-throat about it too!)
There is a big, big world outside of Jefferson, Ohio. You know it even now at 16, and you often dream of seeing it. You will. Trust me, you will.
Love, You at 37.
Dear 16 Year old Me,
Having been through a few more years and seen a few more things, I wanted to give you some notes to help you through the next few years.
Family - Go sit down and talk to Grandma Wolf and Grandpa and Grandma Norton. Find out all that you can about them and take notes. Video tape them if you can. Ask them to tell you stories about when they were children, where they came from, their siblings and what life was like. You won't have the opportunity to really know your Dad, so ask Grandma Wolf about him. Get as much information as possible from her about who he was as a little boy and what his life was like. Ask Grandma Norton about Mom. Find out what she was like as a little girl. Learn the secrets that even at 37, you still haven't learned directly from her. There will come a day when your grandparents will be gone and you will wish that you could give (and get) one more hug and spend one more day talking. So go do it now.
Sports - Using something I heard this morning, "Play your own game." Right now, you are still "Trixie's Little Sister" or "Wolf 3." It may not seem like it, but there will come a time when you will succeed (or fail) on your own merits, when the people that you play with will not know your sister and will have no idea what she did before you. On the volleyball court, I know you are struggling right now with riding the pine, hoping for that day when you will "shine." It will come. You will excel, you will succeed and you will be a star in your own right.
Men - ugh. To quote (probably incorrectly) something I have seen and heard many times before: "The boys who make you cry aren't worth it. And the boys who are worth it won't make you cry." Or something like that. It holds true. You are not defined by the guys that you date or don't date. Even when it seems like everyone else is in love or in a relationship, be secure in just being you. Don't give in to the pressure to have a boyfriend or a date just because everyone else is doing it. And in February of you junior year, when he really puts the pressure on you to "take the next step" in your relationship, just say "no!" There is plenty of time to experience sex and trust me, you are not ready for it. Something else - get to know yourself and who you like to be when no one else is around. Only when you are comfortable being by yourself, will you be comfortable being with anyone else. One more thing - this year's guy is not "the one." And next year's model is not "the one" either. They will show you things about yourself that will make you stronger, but they are not the solution to your problems or the keepers of your dreams. Don't let them be. You are the solution and the key.
Life in General - Don't compromise! People will continue to laugh at you and tell you that you cannot accomplish all that you want to. Ignore them. You'll get there. But just a warning, you will have to eat ramen noodles for a few years while you are in grad school. It gets better though and there is Prime Rib in your future! You will have days that will break your heart. You will make friends and lose friends. You will laugh and cry, smile with utter joy and scream in pure anger. You will make it through all of that and you will come out on the other side. You haven't written your novel or screenplay yet, but we're still working on it. You will continue to take pictures and you will drive everyone nuts with it. When you are older and have kids, you will have scrapbooks full of pictures from you senior year in high school, so make sure to save up now for the film. Your older daughter loves looking at pictures of you in high school.
School - No matter what Mr. Havens says, you probably will not use that math in real life. Tell Mr. P. that he will run for office someday. We suggest a certain "Oval" office would fit him nicely. Remember to thank Mrs. Pelton for introducing you to mystery novels. But tell her that you still read romance novels too. There will come a time when you will not be called a "nerd" or a "geek" for liking school, so keep at it. Believe me, there are places where people compete to have the best grades (and some are pretty cut-throat about it too!)
There is a big, big world outside of Jefferson, Ohio. You know it even now at 16, and you often dream of seeing it. You will. Trust me, you will.
Love, You at 37.
Friday, September 2, 2011
"Well, Go To Your Office and MAKE Some!"
This was the response I got from my 5 and a half year old, when I told her that we didn't have the money for her to take more swimming lessons.
After the shock of her comment wore off, I got to thinking... do I have a spoiled brat for a child? Or is this the pandemic of today's youth, growing up with a sense of entitlement without any concept of the hard work required to get the things we want in life? It's hard to say because she is only 5.
I will be the first person to admit that B has it easy. She really has no concept of how good she has it and for now, at least, I am at a loss for how to explain it to her. When she is older, I can drive her down the streets of Skid Row or introduce her to children that don't have all that she has in the hopes that she will better understand just how good her life is, but at this age, it is hard for her to grasp. Last December, after the usual glut of birthday and Hanukkah presents, we sorted out 5 or 6 of the new things and donated them to Toys for Tots. She decided what to donate, helped me load the car and went with me to drop them off. But it was just a drop off at a local fire department station - no faces to put to the children who would receive them, no concept of what her donation was doing.
I joke that I was a deprived child and that I had a low income childhood. By today's standards, I probably did, whether it was because of a lack of technology or just a lack of money. Kids today have a hard time grasping the reality in which my generation grew up - a reality which did not include iPods or iPhones (or really even cellular phones, for that matter,) a reality in which video games were not the norm and most kids went outside and played the day away. There was no Facebook or MySpace and "chatting" meant standing somewhere face to face in real time, talking to another human being that you could actually see. There was no such thing as "texting" (and certainly not "sexting!")
My own reality was even more bleak (as some kids might tell me) than that. We had a color television but no cable, leaving us with the 3 major networks and if we were lucky, the Fox station on the UHF channel. We had a radio which had a record player and an 8 track tape player built in. We did not have a "boom box" or cassette tapes until I was in junior high (at least.) I didn't get my first "Walkman" until 6th grade and even then, mine was just a radio. The grocery store was where we got cereal and bread and canned goods. Milk came from the cows in the barn and the vegetables came from the garden that we spent the summer in, picking weeds and watering.
I was not given the opportunity to play sports in the summer through local community centers or "Parks-n-Rec," I played kickball or Red Rover with my cousins in my Grandma's yard. I didn't get to take piano lessons or swim lessons or dance or gymnastics or any of those things. I took trumpet lessons after I joined the band in 5th grade. I was 23 before I met Mickey Mouse face to face. This was my "deprived" childhood, but it was a happy one.
My 5 year old lives a charmed existence and she doesn't know it. Of course, I can't explain this to her and I certainly can't argue with her, because all she sees is the immediate loss of swim lessons. She can't grasp the fact that Mommy and Daddy's salaries pay the mortgage on the house that shelters her, or buys the food that she refuses to eat because there is mayonnaise in it, or the toys that she steps on and breaks, or the books that she treasures and loves to read to her baby sister, or the very bed where she sleeps and does alot of her reading. She has never wanted for anything (not that it is a bad thing) and is blessed to be surrounded by friends and family that shower her with love (and presents.)
So I continue to struggle with her. I struggle with explaining to her how money works and how sometimes we have to make decisions - do you really want to spend $60 of your hard-earned money on 1 dress-up dress, or would you rather spend the $60 and get 3 other toys? Or would you rather save it for something else another time? She can count, she knows her quarters from her dimes and that a quarter is 25 pennies. But she's still too young to grasp the fact that money doesn't grow on a bush in the backyard. (If it did, the rats from the air conditioner would surely have eaten it all by now.)
The only saving grace in this is that she can be distracted. I can turn the conversation away from swim lessons by asking what she did in school or showing her a new coloring book, or asking her to draw me a picture. I can engage her with her sister or throw a movie in the DVD player and for a moment, the swim lessons and lack of money to pay for them are forgotten. That is, until Papa asks how they are going and she explains to him that she's not taking them anymore because we don't have the money. Then we have to start this all over again.
After the shock of her comment wore off, I got to thinking... do I have a spoiled brat for a child? Or is this the pandemic of today's youth, growing up with a sense of entitlement without any concept of the hard work required to get the things we want in life? It's hard to say because she is only 5.
I will be the first person to admit that B has it easy. She really has no concept of how good she has it and for now, at least, I am at a loss for how to explain it to her. When she is older, I can drive her down the streets of Skid Row or introduce her to children that don't have all that she has in the hopes that she will better understand just how good her life is, but at this age, it is hard for her to grasp. Last December, after the usual glut of birthday and Hanukkah presents, we sorted out 5 or 6 of the new things and donated them to Toys for Tots. She decided what to donate, helped me load the car and went with me to drop them off. But it was just a drop off at a local fire department station - no faces to put to the children who would receive them, no concept of what her donation was doing.
I joke that I was a deprived child and that I had a low income childhood. By today's standards, I probably did, whether it was because of a lack of technology or just a lack of money. Kids today have a hard time grasping the reality in which my generation grew up - a reality which did not include iPods or iPhones (or really even cellular phones, for that matter,) a reality in which video games were not the norm and most kids went outside and played the day away. There was no Facebook or MySpace and "chatting" meant standing somewhere face to face in real time, talking to another human being that you could actually see. There was no such thing as "texting" (and certainly not "sexting!")
My own reality was even more bleak (as some kids might tell me) than that. We had a color television but no cable, leaving us with the 3 major networks and if we were lucky, the Fox station on the UHF channel. We had a radio which had a record player and an 8 track tape player built in. We did not have a "boom box" or cassette tapes until I was in junior high (at least.) I didn't get my first "Walkman" until 6th grade and even then, mine was just a radio. The grocery store was where we got cereal and bread and canned goods. Milk came from the cows in the barn and the vegetables came from the garden that we spent the summer in, picking weeds and watering.
I was not given the opportunity to play sports in the summer through local community centers or "Parks-n-Rec," I played kickball or Red Rover with my cousins in my Grandma's yard. I didn't get to take piano lessons or swim lessons or dance or gymnastics or any of those things. I took trumpet lessons after I joined the band in 5th grade. I was 23 before I met Mickey Mouse face to face. This was my "deprived" childhood, but it was a happy one.
My 5 year old lives a charmed existence and she doesn't know it. Of course, I can't explain this to her and I certainly can't argue with her, because all she sees is the immediate loss of swim lessons. She can't grasp the fact that Mommy and Daddy's salaries pay the mortgage on the house that shelters her, or buys the food that she refuses to eat because there is mayonnaise in it, or the toys that she steps on and breaks, or the books that she treasures and loves to read to her baby sister, or the very bed where she sleeps and does alot of her reading. She has never wanted for anything (not that it is a bad thing) and is blessed to be surrounded by friends and family that shower her with love (and presents.)
So I continue to struggle with her. I struggle with explaining to her how money works and how sometimes we have to make decisions - do you really want to spend $60 of your hard-earned money on 1 dress-up dress, or would you rather spend the $60 and get 3 other toys? Or would you rather save it for something else another time? She can count, she knows her quarters from her dimes and that a quarter is 25 pennies. But she's still too young to grasp the fact that money doesn't grow on a bush in the backyard. (If it did, the rats from the air conditioner would surely have eaten it all by now.)
The only saving grace in this is that she can be distracted. I can turn the conversation away from swim lessons by asking what she did in school or showing her a new coloring book, or asking her to draw me a picture. I can engage her with her sister or throw a movie in the DVD player and for a moment, the swim lessons and lack of money to pay for them are forgotten. That is, until Papa asks how they are going and she explains to him that she's not taking them anymore because we don't have the money. Then we have to start this all over again.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Growing Up Too Quick
Last night B came home talking about Harry Potter. She told me that she was in the "Slytherin" group (gasp!) in child care - apparently the counselor grouped them for homework time. I was o.k. with that Harry Potter reference. What worried me was when she started talking about "Death Eaters."
Let me start by saying that I am definitely NOT in the "book burning" camp. I am also, for the most part, not in the "book banning" group. I believe that it is the parents' responsibility and not that of the school, school district, librarian, teachers, principals, etc. to monitor what a child is reading and to decide what is and is not appropriate. That being said, I don't believe that my buddy Harry is appropriate for a first grader. That is not to say that Brooklyn would not be able to read it. She's already reading at a second or third grade level. Certain words might give her some trouble, but I think she'd get the gist of it. In fact, when she was a baby and would sleep curled up with me on the couch, I read her one of the books out loud. (Kensi and I are about 2/3 of the way through the first book.) Where possible and appropriate, I provided my own edits to the material for Brooklyn and am doing the same for Kensi.
But I digress. The real issue that I see developing, is my little 5 and a half year old first grader trying so hard to be "grown up," to run with the big kids and to get old before her time. Frankly, it scares me.
We've been told over and over how bright B is. We've been told how she is much more articulate than other children her age, how she has a "wiser than her years" ability to converse, using topics and words or phrases of those around her - and using them properly. She knows how smart she is, partly because people have been telling her that for many years. Regardless of how proud we are, we're scared too. This road is destined to lead to a massive backfire at some point.
An example: Brooklyn will hear someone in the grocery store saying something as we walk by. I will hear it too. Not ten seconds later, I will hear their words worked into our conversation, regardless of whether or not it applies. Another example: We tell Brooklyn that "she better hope..." (insert admonition here.) It will later come back to haunt us in the form of something like "Mom, you better hope that they still have tickets." Or, "you better hope that they will let us in." Sure, she doesn't know that when we said it, there was some kind of perceived threat behind it (such as, "you better hope that comes out of the carpet!') with the idea that if it doesn't, some consequence will result. But she doesn't see it that way. She hears words coming from Mommy and Daddy and other adults and views them as "grown-up speak." She thinks that if she uses that "grown up speak," that she will appear more grown up and will be seen as smarter. (At least, this is how I interpret it. Otherwise, I'd have to consider that she's just a little smart-ass, and then we'd all be in trouble!)
Part of the problem, I have determined, is that she is at Child Care in the afternoons with the big kids. She is taller and bigger than most of the kids in her class and has been for a long time. She finds it easier to fit in with girls who are older, because they are her size and because they can converse on her level. Sadly, they talk about things that she has no concept of, or shouldn't be talking about (i.e. "Death Eaters.") It scares me when my little girl comes home singing Rhianna songs ("all the single ladies" - or was that Beyonce? - but for that I blame the Chipmunks 2 movie) or Katy Perry (even though she was on Sesame Street) or the Dyna-Mite one. What happened to "if you can dream" with the princesses singing!?!
These days, I can have very intelligent conversations with my 5 year old, and usually am reminded shortly thereafter that she is only 5 and despite her amazing vocabulary and ability to understand so much, I have to be better at self-editing. Another example, if you will allow me: This past weekend we had to take Kensi in to have a test done. While driving to see her, Brooklyn asked if she had a similar test done. I explained that she did not, that when she was a baby we did not notice her doing some of the things that we saw Kensi do, and that she crawled and walked early, so we weren't paying as close attention to her muscle movements. Boy did that ever come back to bite me. When the tech came to disconnect Kensi from the test, she asked B how old she was. B answered that she was 5, and then for some reason, launched into a story, telling the tech the very same thing that I had told her in the car. yikes! I definitely need to tone down what I tell B.
Children these days are growing up too fast. I've said it before with respect to make-up and jewelry and cell phones. B asked me a month or two ago when she could have a computer. I told her that when she could take care of her other things and stop walking on toys and breaking things, that she could have a computer (but not, at least, until she was in junior high, I'm sure!) For an entire 2 days, she took good care of her things, and cleaned up her room and pointed these things out to me. Then she forgot all about it and went back to her usual "programming."
I look at things another way - this year, I will be 37 (ouch!) I will officially have spent more years out of my mother's house (19) than I did in (18.) (Although technically, I left home when I was 17.) I laugh -or cringe- when I think about all of the things I did not know when I left home. I also marvel at the fact that at the time, 18 seemed like a lifetime spent under Mom's thumb, growing up, getting through school and going to college. From this perspective, it was a blink of an eye, a flash of time. When I consider a mere 5 (or even 6) years through this spectrum, it is an incredibly short time to expect the things we expect from our children. When I look at B and think about all that she still has coming and all of the things that we will do over the next 11 years (before college,) I want to go back to those days of running around the back yard dressed up like a princess (or a cheerleader-ballerina-musketeer) and slow down time for just a little bit.
Of course there is no way to stop time, it marches on - all of those tired cliches. That doesn't stop me from wanting to keep her young just a little longer, to revel in her childhood before it is gone, replaced by those teen years that I don't even want to think about! So I will keep saying "NO!" when she asks about make-up or a phone or a computer; I will keep telling her that she doesn't need to talk like Mommy or Daddy or other adults; and I will keep smiling a secret little smile when she curls up and goes to sleep listening to Princess music, curled up with her teddy bear - my little baby once more, if only for just a few hours.
Let me start by saying that I am definitely NOT in the "book burning" camp. I am also, for the most part, not in the "book banning" group. I believe that it is the parents' responsibility and not that of the school, school district, librarian, teachers, principals, etc. to monitor what a child is reading and to decide what is and is not appropriate. That being said, I don't believe that my buddy Harry is appropriate for a first grader. That is not to say that Brooklyn would not be able to read it. She's already reading at a second or third grade level. Certain words might give her some trouble, but I think she'd get the gist of it. In fact, when she was a baby and would sleep curled up with me on the couch, I read her one of the books out loud. (Kensi and I are about 2/3 of the way through the first book.) Where possible and appropriate, I provided my own edits to the material for Brooklyn and am doing the same for Kensi.
But I digress. The real issue that I see developing, is my little 5 and a half year old first grader trying so hard to be "grown up," to run with the big kids and to get old before her time. Frankly, it scares me.
We've been told over and over how bright B is. We've been told how she is much more articulate than other children her age, how she has a "wiser than her years" ability to converse, using topics and words or phrases of those around her - and using them properly. She knows how smart she is, partly because people have been telling her that for many years. Regardless of how proud we are, we're scared too. This road is destined to lead to a massive backfire at some point.
An example: Brooklyn will hear someone in the grocery store saying something as we walk by. I will hear it too. Not ten seconds later, I will hear their words worked into our conversation, regardless of whether or not it applies. Another example: We tell Brooklyn that "she better hope..." (insert admonition here.) It will later come back to haunt us in the form of something like "Mom, you better hope that they still have tickets." Or, "you better hope that they will let us in." Sure, she doesn't know that when we said it, there was some kind of perceived threat behind it (such as, "you better hope that comes out of the carpet!') with the idea that if it doesn't, some consequence will result. But she doesn't see it that way. She hears words coming from Mommy and Daddy and other adults and views them as "grown-up speak." She thinks that if she uses that "grown up speak," that she will appear more grown up and will be seen as smarter. (At least, this is how I interpret it. Otherwise, I'd have to consider that she's just a little smart-ass, and then we'd all be in trouble!)
Part of the problem, I have determined, is that she is at Child Care in the afternoons with the big kids. She is taller and bigger than most of the kids in her class and has been for a long time. She finds it easier to fit in with girls who are older, because they are her size and because they can converse on her level. Sadly, they talk about things that she has no concept of, or shouldn't be talking about (i.e. "Death Eaters.") It scares me when my little girl comes home singing Rhianna songs ("all the single ladies" - or was that Beyonce? - but for that I blame the Chipmunks 2 movie) or Katy Perry (even though she was on Sesame Street) or the Dyna-Mite one. What happened to "if you can dream" with the princesses singing!?!
These days, I can have very intelligent conversations with my 5 year old, and usually am reminded shortly thereafter that she is only 5 and despite her amazing vocabulary and ability to understand so much, I have to be better at self-editing. Another example, if you will allow me: This past weekend we had to take Kensi in to have a test done. While driving to see her, Brooklyn asked if she had a similar test done. I explained that she did not, that when she was a baby we did not notice her doing some of the things that we saw Kensi do, and that she crawled and walked early, so we weren't paying as close attention to her muscle movements. Boy did that ever come back to bite me. When the tech came to disconnect Kensi from the test, she asked B how old she was. B answered that she was 5, and then for some reason, launched into a story, telling the tech the very same thing that I had told her in the car. yikes! I definitely need to tone down what I tell B.
Children these days are growing up too fast. I've said it before with respect to make-up and jewelry and cell phones. B asked me a month or two ago when she could have a computer. I told her that when she could take care of her other things and stop walking on toys and breaking things, that she could have a computer (but not, at least, until she was in junior high, I'm sure!) For an entire 2 days, she took good care of her things, and cleaned up her room and pointed these things out to me. Then she forgot all about it and went back to her usual "programming."
I look at things another way - this year, I will be 37 (ouch!) I will officially have spent more years out of my mother's house (19) than I did in (18.) (Although technically, I left home when I was 17.) I laugh -or cringe- when I think about all of the things I did not know when I left home. I also marvel at the fact that at the time, 18 seemed like a lifetime spent under Mom's thumb, growing up, getting through school and going to college. From this perspective, it was a blink of an eye, a flash of time. When I consider a mere 5 (or even 6) years through this spectrum, it is an incredibly short time to expect the things we expect from our children. When I look at B and think about all that she still has coming and all of the things that we will do over the next 11 years (before college,) I want to go back to those days of running around the back yard dressed up like a princess (or a cheerleader-ballerina-musketeer) and slow down time for just a little bit.
Of course there is no way to stop time, it marches on - all of those tired cliches. That doesn't stop me from wanting to keep her young just a little longer, to revel in her childhood before it is gone, replaced by those teen years that I don't even want to think about! So I will keep saying "NO!" when she asks about make-up or a phone or a computer; I will keep telling her that she doesn't need to talk like Mommy or Daddy or other adults; and I will keep smiling a secret little smile when she curls up and goes to sleep listening to Princess music, curled up with her teddy bear - my little baby once more, if only for just a few hours.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Mommy Milestone #70 - Ruination - aka "Bull in a Chin(ese) Nail Shop"
The weekend before our trip to Ohio and Washington DC stretched out before us. Brooklyn's last t-ball game of the summer on Saturday morning and a friend's birthday party on Saturday night, followed by a Sunday blissfully empty of plans or places to go. For me, it could be a day spent in my scrapbook room, lovingly surrounded by my paper trimmer and adhesive, papers and embellishments, happily working the hours away between breakfast and lunch, between lunch and dinner, between dinner and bedtime.
But before I can safely escape to my hideaway, reality creeps in. Rob cannot stand to be cooped up in the house all day with nothing to do, especially with a rowdy 5 year old who also cannot stand to be cooped up in the house all day with nothing to do. So, knowing that the next two nights would be filled with laundry and packing and knowing that Kensi would be good for a nap, I decided to be the "cool" mom for just a few hours. I decided to take Brooklyn to get her nails done.
I have done this once before, allowing Brooklyn to get her fingernails painted while I got a mani/pedi (with Kensi napping in the carrier next to me.) For Brooklyn, this is the ultimate in "girly-girl" activities, the pinnacle of all things princess and pretty. For me, it's a nightmare of watching her try to sit still and wait for the paint to dry. This experience would be no different and yet, somehow, worse.
As I said, Brooklyn has gotten her fingernails done, but not yet a full mani/pedi. I decided that since Kensi would be home napping, I could take B and we could have some "us" time. The shop where I usually go could not fit us in, so we found another local shop to invade. They sat us together, in side-by-side chairs. Poor B's legs are long, but weren't quite long enough for her feet to be in the water while she sat all of the way back on the chair. So the experience started with a bit of a struggle for her to find a comfy way to sit. Once she had found something that worked, they got started. On my side, the girls were getting started and asking the usual questions about color and design, "you want flower?" Trying to help me decide, they showed me a little plastic photo album with various pictures of designs. After looking through them, I had the sitting on my lap, waiting for a chance to return them. B asked to see one of them.
Knowing B like I do, I handed the album to her with an admonishment of "don't let it fall in the water," or something to that effect. Can you tell where this is going? Not ten seconds later, the book was floating in the water where her feet should have been. The poor technician helping B jumped up and pulled the book out and another girl went to work on trying to dry it. Throughout the rest of our visit there, several of the girls would trade off drying the pictures and trying to make sure they weren't damaged. I was torn between laughing at the absurdity of the situation, feeling sorry for B who looked so sad in that moment, and crawling under the chair to avoid the dirty looks from the ladies.
But alas, that would not be the end of our destructive path. At the conclusion of B's abbreviated pedicure, they painted her toes. I explained to her that she would have to keep her feet still (yeah, right) so that the paint could dry. She was in hog heaven with red, white and blue toes. Remember what I said about her feet not quite reaching the end of the chair? Well, that would come back to haunt her. Shortly after the girl was done with her feet and had moved on to another customer, B was swinger her feet and brought them up under the step, scraping all of the paint off of her toes. Repaint #1.
A different technician offered to help repaint the toes. Once finished, she helped B put on her flip flops and B went over to sit in a regular chair where she started swinging her feet back and forth and putting one foot over the other.... which scraped paint off of most of the toes. Repaint #2. A different technician (from the first two) helped out and again painted her toes. This time, she also needed a repaint on some of her fingers. I'm not sure how those got messed up.
Finally done and repainted, I paid and we left the shop. I'm sure that all of the ladies were cursing me and my child as we walked out, leaving a trail of wet pictures and frustrated technicians behind us. Of course, the story was not done there.... we got to the car, I put B in and told her to be careful and 2 seconds later, some of her toes were smeared again. Deciding that I had done enough, I left her there and we went to get lunch for Daddy.
Lesson learned? Don't hand your 5 year old something that can't get wet when she is sitting (or standing) over a tub of water. Second lesson learned? Wait until your child can sit still before attempting to get her toes painted (or at least do it yourself instead of paying someone to do it.) Ah well, live and learn. Despite all the craziness, I hope that B at least had a good time hanging out with Mommy.
And coming soon - another Mommy milestone... the life of crime.
But before I can safely escape to my hideaway, reality creeps in. Rob cannot stand to be cooped up in the house all day with nothing to do, especially with a rowdy 5 year old who also cannot stand to be cooped up in the house all day with nothing to do. So, knowing that the next two nights would be filled with laundry and packing and knowing that Kensi would be good for a nap, I decided to be the "cool" mom for just a few hours. I decided to take Brooklyn to get her nails done.
I have done this once before, allowing Brooklyn to get her fingernails painted while I got a mani/pedi (with Kensi napping in the carrier next to me.) For Brooklyn, this is the ultimate in "girly-girl" activities, the pinnacle of all things princess and pretty. For me, it's a nightmare of watching her try to sit still and wait for the paint to dry. This experience would be no different and yet, somehow, worse.
As I said, Brooklyn has gotten her fingernails done, but not yet a full mani/pedi. I decided that since Kensi would be home napping, I could take B and we could have some "us" time. The shop where I usually go could not fit us in, so we found another local shop to invade. They sat us together, in side-by-side chairs. Poor B's legs are long, but weren't quite long enough for her feet to be in the water while she sat all of the way back on the chair. So the experience started with a bit of a struggle for her to find a comfy way to sit. Once she had found something that worked, they got started. On my side, the girls were getting started and asking the usual questions about color and design, "you want flower?" Trying to help me decide, they showed me a little plastic photo album with various pictures of designs. After looking through them, I had the sitting on my lap, waiting for a chance to return them. B asked to see one of them.
Knowing B like I do, I handed the album to her with an admonishment of "don't let it fall in the water," or something to that effect. Can you tell where this is going? Not ten seconds later, the book was floating in the water where her feet should have been. The poor technician helping B jumped up and pulled the book out and another girl went to work on trying to dry it. Throughout the rest of our visit there, several of the girls would trade off drying the pictures and trying to make sure they weren't damaged. I was torn between laughing at the absurdity of the situation, feeling sorry for B who looked so sad in that moment, and crawling under the chair to avoid the dirty looks from the ladies.
But alas, that would not be the end of our destructive path. At the conclusion of B's abbreviated pedicure, they painted her toes. I explained to her that she would have to keep her feet still (yeah, right) so that the paint could dry. She was in hog heaven with red, white and blue toes. Remember what I said about her feet not quite reaching the end of the chair? Well, that would come back to haunt her. Shortly after the girl was done with her feet and had moved on to another customer, B was swinger her feet and brought them up under the step, scraping all of the paint off of her toes. Repaint #1.
A different technician offered to help repaint the toes. Once finished, she helped B put on her flip flops and B went over to sit in a regular chair where she started swinging her feet back and forth and putting one foot over the other.... which scraped paint off of most of the toes. Repaint #2. A different technician (from the first two) helped out and again painted her toes. This time, she also needed a repaint on some of her fingers. I'm not sure how those got messed up.
Finally done and repainted, I paid and we left the shop. I'm sure that all of the ladies were cursing me and my child as we walked out, leaving a trail of wet pictures and frustrated technicians behind us. Of course, the story was not done there.... we got to the car, I put B in and told her to be careful and 2 seconds later, some of her toes were smeared again. Deciding that I had done enough, I left her there and we went to get lunch for Daddy.
Lesson learned? Don't hand your 5 year old something that can't get wet when she is sitting (or standing) over a tub of water. Second lesson learned? Wait until your child can sit still before attempting to get her toes painted (or at least do it yourself instead of paying someone to do it.) Ah well, live and learn. Despite all the craziness, I hope that B at least had a good time hanging out with Mommy.
And coming soon - another Mommy milestone... the life of crime.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)