Sick, and Tired...

There is an old sitcom, I do not remember it's name, from the 80's, with an episode that I can relate to.

The mom is not feeling well, but ignores it as her kids are under the weather and her husband is ill. Then once they are back on their feet, she falls apart, but the joke is on her.

Because when she complains of feeling ill, saying, "I'm sick..." her husband and children complete her sentence, "And Tired..." with a vaguely annoyed and comic flair.

I am pretty sure this was from Bill Cosby and played out in the show - but correct me if I am wrong.

You see, I am sick - and tired - today.

The bottom line is that we moms are the disciplinarians already, and thus, the generally more unpopular parent in the home. Add to this an extra edge to our demeanor when ill, and we definitely lose out on our expected dose of sympathy.

Blogging is great since I have lost my voice and don't have to speak to the blogosphere verbally, as the written word will suffice.

My tea, blankets, tissues, and I will see you again in a few days.

Facebook Faux Pas

Ahh Facebook. That fun diversion, that amusing timesuck. It can be lots of fun to catch up with old friends that you simply lost touch with due to geography or other life circumstances. It can also be a bizarre playland filled with people that a) you don't remember or never even knew who want to "friend" you, b) people you remember and never liked, or maybe even never spoke to, that friend you, and c) people that friend everyone, and I mean everyone - also known as the facebook "whores" (hint: no one has 800+ real friends)!

In this land of virtual friendship, I guess I am a bit of a dinosaur. You see, I do not see facebook as a popularity contest. I do however really enjoy connecting with current friends and old friends that I shared good will, fun experiences, and growing pains with. I don't believe in friending people that I was not or am not friends with in "real" life.

This has led to a few uncomfortable situations for me. The latest involves an old friend from years ago. I broke off my friendship with her very nicely, but very honestly, indicating that it was based at that point only upon shared history and did not contain the mutual respect and kindness that I needed in a friendship, but that I really wished her and her husband well (I actually got along better with him in the end) and had only good wishes for the development and health of their only child. I made it clear that I was done. In response, at that time, I received an apology via email. One of those apologies that reads almost like an I'm-sticking-it-to-'ya at the same time. Knowing that any further email or conversation would only open the discussion up to the old pattern of disrespect and arguments, I chose not to respond. Then there was the Christmas card. And the following year, the phone call, that appeared out of nowhere on my answering machine. Again I did not respond.

Now, Facebook. I received the email, worded creatively, making me laugh at an old shared memory of our favorite movie and one of its better quotes.

So here I am, 4 years, two emails, one voicemail, two christmas cards, and one facebook message later, wondering, what do I do with this message?

It is tempting to answer. But the reality of who we are as people does not fundamentally change. We can try to change our behaviors, but we cannot change our personalities. We are not the Stepford Wives. And yet the guilt I feel and have felt on and off since ending this friendship remains - usually when these contacts occur, and usually because of the unhealthy patterns that existed in our friendship.

I had no desire to reject her or hurt her. My assumption is that she moved on but now over time realized what she lost. I understand that, but my loss was not the same. It was like a difficult friend-divorce, and by the time I ended it I had already started to move on, but can still somehow feel like the bad guy when I get these pokes and prods from the past.

I wish her well, I really do, and especially hope that her son, whom I suspect was diagnosed with some developmental issues a few years ago, is doing well.

But I won't be answering that last email. Even though I am not "c) stuck under something heavy".

Motherhood

An old friend of mine recently uploaded a facebook post with her "Crackberry", worrying that her son will get pinned too quickly in his wrestling match to be competitive.

It is an understandable concern. Parents of athletic and competitive kids work hard to encourage them and also to preserve their self esteem.

As much as I can understand these concerns, I can't help but sometimes compare them to my own as a parent. Mine are much more basic, though.

Will my daughter do well enough in the general education classroom to continue that placement and improve upon it? Will she get through the day without a meltdown? Will I be able to provide my younger precocious daughter with enough challenge and stimulation without feeling a bit sad?
How much normal will my day include?

For me, it is not whether or not each day will contain some reminder of our special needs parenting situation, but which reminder today will bring. Some days contain the promise of a bright future and a normal life, while others are like a cold painful shock of reality - tenfold and bringing new concerns to the forefront.

I don't worry about whether my child can compete in a sports tournament without losing to a better opponent. I'd be thrilled if she could sit through a tournament. Instead of worrying whether she will win or lose a sports activity, I worry if the non-competitive track program will have enough supervision to keep my child engaged at all.

I am truly grateful for all of the progress and the hopes for a bright future. But days like this, with these reminders of all the normal that I am missing out on today specifically, cut me raw.

But it is what it is.

So I am going to now go put my big girl panties back on and call it a day, reminding myself of all of the blessings in my life.

Around Town

We at-home moms are noticing a new phenom around town these days, and it is not a comforting one.

Men. Everywhere. Chivalrous hold-open-that-door-for-you fellows. I have received more assistance with groceries, boxes, and other random tasks this winter than in my past seven years as a stay-at-home mom. These are stand up gentlemen with no where to go. The best... the brightest... the now-unemployed.

I feel for these guys, all of them. I see them at the post office, the supermarket, the library at story hour... in places where I have not encountered them before, in increasing numbers.

They want to be useful. I see them around town because either they have offered to run these errands for their wives or they were asked. It doesn't really matter; either way it is an attempt to preserve self-esteem. These guys are clearly visible proof of that fact that we are all losers in the recent banking and economy bloodbath. Many are professionals and the others are service providers for those services that we have cut back on these days, like construction and home improvement. They appear uncomfortable at the deli counter, standing in line with the women and children lined up for their weekly visit.

And who can blame them? I remember years ago when Sarah was first born, my first full trip to the grocery store with my then colicky infant. I had trouble finding everything, took way too long to complete my shopping and felt rather out of place and disorganized. I filled out the wrong forms at the post office. While at-home-mommyhood was a conscious choice, I was a serious newbie to this gig. I was used to managing teams of professionals in two different states, traveling on business, presenting to clients, and dining out. I was used to completing projects I started and receiving multiple "atta girls" that resulted in hard-earned bonuses.

Given my perspective, it is no surprise that I can understand a glimmer of what these professional men, these do-good providers without their cause, are feeling. Stir in a lack of ability to feel productive and a good dose of financial woes, and I am impressed at how well all of them are doing.

Let's hope that Obama can team up with our lawmakers to effect some serious change and begin to turn this mess around. Quickly.

Simon, Garfunkel, and Fluffy Snow...

You may wonder where I have been. Stuck under something heavy? Kind of...but not exactly. Well, anyway, I am back.

I-I am ho-o-o-ome. Gazing through my window, to the street below, I'm a freshly fallen, silent shroud of snow...

But I am not a Rock or an Island. I am a walking entertainment and education factory that also functions as a restaurant and housekeeping service throughout the day...through admittedly not as efficiently as professionals.

This is probably why, when I told my friends about my summer job at my daughter's camp, they were all so happy for me. "Oh, how nice, it will be like a vacation for you for the summer!"

Now just to clarify things, I am VERY happy about my summer job. I LOVE Deeny Riback and am truly grateful that I can use my god-given skills to help out, while providing an opportunity for Rachel to join her sister at camp this year. It will not be a vacation, but I understand why my girlfriend thinks so. After all, I have been up since 6 am, cooking and cleaning. We baked pumpkin bread, and we have done two extensive craft projects. I have read several books to them, and we each have written our own books. Finally, after much feeding and cleanup from crafts and then lunch, I prepared them for snow angels and playtime outside, which is absolutely Daddy's domain.

Still I wouldn't trade anything for the ability to be the person at home doing this job. Yes, it is challenging, and yes the girls do fight every half-hour or so...but here I am, witness to their growth and development, squabbles, learning, and first experiences of every kind.

So I am not a Rock or an Island. I am a Chief Cook and Bottle Washer, a Teacher and a Friend, the Good Cop and the Bad Cop.

And on this "winter's day, in a deep and dark December", the falling snow means we all get to stay home and enjoy it together. Squabbles and all...

Happy Snow Day to You!

Head's Up

Head's Up Everyone...the news on the radar today is so ahocking, astounding and unbelievable that it will leave you breathless.

Michael Jackson is...












sick.



Now how about some real news or at least something that we did not already know for the past few decades...

Thank God I'm a Country (Girl)

Today was a very special day for my eldest daughter Sarah. A day trip into manhattan to meet up with her Favorite Aunt Stephanie to have lunch and see Mary Poppins on Broadway.

Being a white knuckler in the congested streets of manhattan, I was none too pleased with the alternate train schedule for track construction which featured missing routes at exactly the times we needed Midtown Direct to be there for us.

Neither Jeff nor I favor the joy of NYC driving, but after much research into alternate routes, we determined the best and most direct bet was a drive through the Lincoln Tunnel, which links up directly with the Port Authority parking deck.

Now if you know Jeff and I, then you know that the best laid plans are almost always waylaid by some comical force to ensure a grand "adventure" (AKA getting lost or misdirected at the very end). In this case, thankfully, there was no construction, closure, or filled lot awaiting us.

In fact, this may be our new favorite way to get into the city.

So, we arrived at the Port Authority parking deck, unloaded and off we went, and it was all amazingly simple.

Once in Times Square, we encountered the usual suspects, transgendered and proud, rastafarian preachers expounding upon the eternal damnation that awaits us, and all sorts of slippery street vendors (though surely they must realize that most of us already know Canal Street is the place to shop for knockoffs?). I was a little surprised that the Naked Cowboy neglected to show, considering the milder weather. Perhaps he was concerned about "shrinkage" and how it would affect his image. Frankly I am relieved that I did not have to explain that one to the girls today, and that Sarah forgot him from our last trip into New York.

Interestingly, my girls did not take much note of the folks we encountered who were talking, dancing, and singing to themselves, and simply assumed that they had earpieces in and were on their cell phones. The sweet and roasty smell of Halal food and roasted nut stands combined with the waft of toilet odor from the sewers to make NYC, at it's most simple description (the one I used to prepare my daughter) "a city with lots of everything beautiful and ugly at once". This microcosm of the globe, only less spread out, is, in my opinion, a good place to show your children - if for nothing else - a perspective from the larger world that we live in.

The girls were well behaved and made me proud; holding our hands and staying safe, but smiling kindly where appropriate at the mix of characters we encountered.

After we lunched, we waved Sarah off with Steph, and then we enjoyed our share of all that Times Square has to offer with a 4 year old in tow. And M&M World was the overall winner. When Rachel finally lost her steam, we headed back to our trusty parking deck and drove back home to Randolph.

I always feel a sense of comfort driving up the hill towards home on sussex turnpike, and this afternoon was no exception, with the sun still shining and crimson leaves cascading down as we neared our turnoff.

Once back home we three (sans Sarah who would arrive home later) found that we wanted to relax and be quiet together.

Not a surprising end to our day in the big city.