I Guess I'm That Weird Mom Now

When I turned twelve, I had a slumber birthday party. My birthday is in August and so my birthday parties were always a bit odd. Friendships tend to suffer over summer break without the forced regular contact of school and so my guest lists were always a mish mash of school friends with whom I stayed in touch, cousins and church friends. Turning twelve was a particularly weird year because elementary school was over and I figured some girls from church, who had attended different elementary schools, would most likely be my new school friends come September when school started. I also remember inviting a girl from church, Angie, who I didn't necessarily see becoming a close friend but who I also didn't want to feel bad should she find out at Beehives that I had invited several of the other girls. Maybe my mom asked me to invite her. I can't really remember. But she was there.

The specifics of the party I barely remember. That was the last year I was in gymnastics so I do remember doing back handsprings on the striped green couch. I remember Angie's birthday present to me: a homemade clown with a store bought plastic face and plastic hands glued onto some kind of can and a sewn blue and polka dot clown outfit sewn into the shape of a body. It even had blue yarn for hair. It was impressive although a slightly immature gift for a twelve year girl.

I also remember that Angie could not spend the night. That seemed weird to me. In fact, her whole family seemed weird to me. I'd see them at church in a row and Angie and her sister would match perfectly from their fancy homemade dresses with lace and bows to their long, curled hair. It was like their mom was playing dolls every week. Maybe it was cute on four or five year olds but I felt bad for twelve year old Angie. Her parents definitely made her "uncool."

Perhaps the world seemed scary to Angie's parents like it seems to me now. Last night, at bookclub, a friend who has a very popular 7th grade son at the other middle school told me she went through her son's texts messages (we all agreed that parents can and should check phones) and there was a message from a girl offering him a blow job. Awhile back, another friend of a 7th grade girl told me her daughter got a text from a boy about masturbation. I'm sorry if those sentences seem crude and best left unmentioned but these are the voices in my head today. I don't mean to be vulgar but that is the reality of present day middle school. Sexually developing and curious and insecure kids with much too easy access to bad information. Not all boys and girls act and speak like that, obviously, but technology seems to make bad decisions that much easier to make. So, yeah, the world kind of seems scary to me and my decisions as a mother become affected.

Still, there is a part of me that knows that while this behavior seems more overt and certainly more damaging, thanks to cyber trails, than it was during the late 80s when I was transferring from girl to woman, it isn't brand new. There were rumors about kids who did that kind of stuff when I was in 7th grade. I didn't really know what any of it meant back then, but I heard about it. Also, they were the bad kids. I had the benefit of being the fifth child whose parents had already experienced teenagers and rebellious fashion and independent hair styles (I flew the mom-controlled-hair coop in fourth grade and have the bad pictures to prove it) and they were pretty relaxed and trusting when it came to my friendships while Angie was the oldest. Maybe Angie's mom somehow thought that was what happened at parties even back then and wanted to protect her child. Now, I have an oldest who seems to be the victim of my own desire to protect. I've explained our decision against friend sleepovers before. That rule isn't changing but I also haven't had to knowingly enforce it this past year. I thought the invitations had stopped. Turns out, my kids frequently turn down sleep over offers on their own with a "My mom won't let me do sleepovers" response (seems a bit unfair that I am the bad guy as Jay is equally opposed to them). Thanks to technology and Seth being invited to a friend's birthday party sleepover tonight via text, I have his text response to prove it.

So, I'm picking him up tonight sometime between 11:00 and midnight. That's late, right? I felt so generous offering him that pick-up time yesterday but now his friend's text response is haunting me.

"Sucks to be you!"

Ugh.

At least he's not going to the party with a clown for a gift.

Book Review #14 - Eleanor and Park

At my children's "country" elementary school, there library there also serves as a branch library to the rural community. It is small but does usually have a copy of the hard to get a hold of new releases so, if I'm picking up one of my children, I often go in and find something to read. The librarian working is always the same and we have gotten to know each other during check-out and return times.

How much do I love that she had a book I had never heard of reserved for me just because she thought I might like it? A lot. She had just finished reading it and said, "I kept thinking you'd like it as I read it." This is so strange because we really don't know each other but maybe she knows me better than I know her since she knows what I read.

She was right. I really liked it. I was a pretty normal teenager. Honestly, I think every teen feels like a big freak but I usually don't relate to books like Perks of Being A Wallflower because I was involved and had friends and did sports and all that "uncool" stuff to those who rebuff the mainstream either by choice or by force. I couldn't finish Perks because of all of the sex and drugs but this book was able to highlight the difficulties of kids who don't fit in without making either of the characters degenerates. I adored Eleanor. I loved her thoughts and her insecurities and her coping skills. I hated her family. I wondered which kids I ignored because of their clothes or weirdness might have had home lives like Eleanor. Park was a little less believable to me because his isolation seemed more self-imposed.

Still, there is a moment in the plot when Eleanor and Park are in an English class and studying Romeo and Juliet and the teacher is trying to engage the students to think why such a sad story has survived the test of time as well as it has. Predictable answers are given until Eleanor suggests that it reminds people what it feels like to be young and in love.

This book does just that. I never had a high school romance as intense as the one experienced between Eleanor and Park but I have fallen in love and the description and progression of that magical discovery that someone likes you just as much as you like them is perfect. The nuanced secondary characters, awesome 80s references, tragic backgrounds and formidable odds to overcome made this read that much more sweet.

Book Review #13 - Juliet

If you're a fan of romances and the story of Romeo and Juliet, this story is probably right up your alley. It's mostly clean although there is a bit of totally unnecessary language that doesn't belong at all. I am pretty tolerant of language in books if its use fits the circumstance or character and neither criteria was met here.

The author attempts to showcase the historical lore behind the classic Romeo and Juliet story. I enjoyed learning that Shakespeare was most likely not the creator of the star-crossed lovers tale but merely produced the most famous rendition. I also enjoyed being taken back to medieval times, even if the speech and actions of the main characters didn't seem very authentic.

The modern day romance is what really annoyed me. I have found this to be the case in a lot of stories set up like this. Coming immediately to mind is Sarah's Key and Possession (although it works better in Possession) but I did not believe or care about the romance between the discoverers of the historical mystery. In fact, their conversations were torture for me. I felt like I was reading a very novice author (think high school level) writing dialogue. Oh, she definitely had a thesaurus at hand for the word "said" and used "whispered" "gloated" "hissed" "moaned"....just about any word other than "said" but if felt terribly trite and juvenile to me. When I finished the book and learned that the author grew up and only moved to the US in 2002, it almost explained the irritating use of English. It just didn't feel natural.

Like I said, if unbelievable dialogue doesn't bother you and you really do like Romeo and Juliet but want to learn about some different twists to the well-known tale, you might like this. Unfortunately to this book snob, all that "hissing" and "moaning" ruined it for me.

Monday Musings

I can't think of a single thing in my life/house/calling that doesn't need attention. Everything needs to be done. The whole house could use a big ol' decluttering and spring cleaning. My church bag overwhelms me and is so disorganized with visual aids for various songs stuffed in and my newly acquired laminator sits on the counter, unopened, because I haven't found the time or energy to figure out how to use it. My children have yearbook orderforms and buy-one-get-one-free bookfairs slips to fill out and the yard...oh my goodness. I thought this was my year with Daniel loving being outside and all, to finally get outside and have flowers and less weeds. I might get some of this stuff done if I had any free time but I have convinced myself that I do not so it all remains in the pressure cooker of my brain....ready to explode at any minute.

Except, I do have moments of free time. They are just so random and in such small chunks that I waste them playing some dumb game like bejeweled blitz on my phone instead of spending those 20 minutes on my closet or pantry or dirt encrusted windows. While I sat for the first time of the day thinking, "my kids will be home in 30 minutes" while mindlessly arranging orange and blue and yellow "gems" into groups of 3, I thought, "This is when you should blog." I played for a few more minutes because how can I organize all of....this....into something that is readable and then decided that was setting the bar too high. This is going to be pure stream of consciousness.

One thing that has kept me busier than usual is that I am co-head of the elementary school talent show. It isn't really a big deal except for the time it takes to get it organized. Friday, the other mom in charge and I spent 3 hours at the school listening to auditions and talking about what the show will be like this year. We only had 16 acts and all of them prepared enough to accept so we decided to make it fun for the kids and post a list rather than simply announcing on afternoon announcements that all who auditioned made it. The principle thought it was a little bit cruel to send the kids home for the weekend without knowing but we thought it'd be fun for them to come to school Monday morning, see their name on a big, glittery list, and proudly walk around the halls all day as a reward for their courage and talent.

Well...that was the ideal. The less than ideal is leaving a 3rd grader off the list! It was completely my fault although I will place part of the blame on my co-chair as her notes were jumbled and hard to read and his name was easy to miss.  But, his name was on there and I made final list and so when the teacher emailed us and said, "What the heck?!" as the poor boy was distraught at not making the talent show, I had to bust a move to fix the list, drive out there, repost and send a personal note of apology to the boy (who had a GREAT talent, by the way) that I was sorry. Little things like that can send my day into a tailspin. Thankfully, Jay is home today so I was able to fix it without having to wake Daniel up from his nap and deal with a grouchy, under rested toddler for the rest of the day.

Mother's Day is also floating around in my head. My cleaners came this morning and asked the expected, "How was your mother's day?" question to which I replied, "It was ok." Because it was. But, it wasn't the day that apparently gets posted about on Instagram and Facebook.

I don't know how I feel about Mother's Day. I think the naysayers who say it is a purely Hallmark creation and has no place at church are wrong. As a church who believes families are essential to the plan of salvation and motherhood a divine institution, I think it not only belongs in sacrament meeting but should probably not be limited to a once-a-year event. I understand their grievances, even if I feel like they have become trite and overused. Yes, speakers can sometimes wax nostalgic and emotional about their own specific mothers or wives and I agree that those kinds of talks might not be especially suited for Sacrament Meeting. But, they do have their place. Perhaps the speakers aren't fantastic at intellectualizing their thoughts and experiences and extending their memories or stories to serve as a teaching tool or warning. Like talks every week, I believe it is mostly our experience to take something away from the prepared messages. The bitter I'm-not-going-to-church-on-mother's-day excuse is pride in disguise. You're infertile? You have a horrible relationship with your mother? Your child no longer comes to church? Your husband left you? You resent motherhood? You didn't get breakfast in bed? The common denominator in every one of those phrases is "you" and therein is both the problem and the solution. Just take back the day. Be grateful to be a mother or for your mother or for the beautiful babies that depend on mothers risking their health and bodies to exist, whether that is a child of a friend or a niece or some gorgeous brown eyed creation you flirted with in Guatemala years ago.

As for all of the hoopla and brag fests, I admit it is hard not to be jealous. Past experience has taught me the simple rule to keep expectations low and to truly concentrate on being a mother and not thinking the day means I don't have to mother. My husband is great but he went and fed cows in the morning while I made cinnamon rolls and eggs and bacon for the bread intolerant. I had to leave the house early to fulfill some volunteer duties for the dumb local soccer tournament held in town over the weekend which required my purchasing some ice at Walmart. Then, I had to set up my singing time and get my visual aids in order (see note above about their state in my bag) for the mother's day medley in sacrament meeting. When we got home, the boys came out of the bedroom with gifts including some hideous crocs (they are orange and blue and white so in addition to being ugly because they are crocs, they are particularly nasty.  But, it was a funny joke gift from Jay because I always steel his black crocs to wear in the mornings), two books (The Great Gatsby and Catcher in the Rye) for my personal library and a really cool leather bracelet.  Henry made me a sweet homemade card at school and a beautiful hand painted picture with a poem in art.  Thank goodness for elementary schools helping mothers everywhere receive priceless gifts!  After that was all done, we went to Vaughn and Patty's house for dinner and even though it was great not to cook, we stayed a lot longer than I imagined we would waiting for their missionary son's phone call. I had that brief moment of, "I'm not going to get to take a nap/blog/go for a walk" mental whine and then got over it. I played with Daniel outside, let him cover himself with dirt in their garden, and then, once home, got him bathed and in bed. By this time, it was close to 8 pm and Seth asked me if I had any desire to rekindle my scrapbook hobby. This weird request meant he had an enormous Language Arts project due that involved making a scrapbook about a historical figure and I spent the next 3 hours helping him with that, trying my very best not to be resentful.

So, when the cleaners asked me how my mother's day went, I responded, "It was o.k" which it was. Then I got a lecture about how I need to train them all to cook for me and clean up and how to shop for what I wanted and blah-de-blah-blah-blah-blah and so...yeah, I don't quite know what to think about Mother's Day.  I know I love being a Mother, even though it is hard and not really what I'm best at, and i know that I love my mother and I know that God loves mothers and I know that we have been commanded to honor mothers so...I guess I'm a fan of Mother's Day. I just want everyone else to stop being so gloaty or depressed about it. That's all. :)

Well...time's up. I hope this time was better spent than seeing if I can beat my score of 688,700 (I play WAY too much). Maybe some pictures next time!

Privately Pinging

I knew this would happen. This utter lethargic writing response to going private. Part of it is that I'm still mad. Having defended my desire to continue public blogging for years, I'm annoyed at imagining any "I told you so"s. Part of it is also the sadness that comes when you realize certain people you hoped were friends either don't want to continue reading your blog or check it so infrequently that they don't even know you are private after nearly 2 weeks. Whatever. Being that needy and insecure is unattractive. I'd like to simply chop off that personality flaw. Part of it is that I also feel almost claustrophobic with a private blog. Like putting your cold head underneath your bed covers, it's cozy and comforting for about 30 seconds and then...well...I need air!

Still, it's nice to be away from certain eyes. There were a few readers that I knew visited my blog (hello...statcounter) but would always pretend that they didn't and now they can't anymore. Na na na na na na. Oh my gosh, there is another unattractive flaw exposed. This private business is bringing out all sorts of my worst. I promise to improve.

Now, about statcounter. That is the name of the website. If you blog, I do recommend putting one onto your blog and not simply relying on whatever "stats" blogger provides. Statcounter isn't perfect but if someone reads my blog on my website, and not with a reader (there's the loophole) I can see the visit. Additionally, if they click on a link, in particular, a picture, that registers as well. After I noticed the weird activity, my SIL called me and through comparing notes on browsers, time of visits and location, my creeper was creeping her as well. My sister didn't notice this same visitor but did notice by checking, something she didn't usually do, that a porn site had linked to her blog and she had gotten some visits from there. These are the kinds of activities that you do want to monitor. For 7 years....7 years, I have not noticed anything alarming. I have never minded visits from people I don't know. I always figure they are friends of friends or family of family and I'm a sharer. Read away. A few people I didn't know sent emails asking to continue to read and I'm glad they did. I'm sorry I forced you out of your shell. I assure you, it was not you I was concerned about.

Now, hopefully, I'll get back into the groove and start blogging again. I do have to jot down Seth's hilarious response when I shared with him what was going on. You'll recall that we had a big blow up on the evening of his track meet and his disappearance into the school without telling me. Poor Jay, in an attempt to smooth things over between us, went up to his room to talk to him about answering his phone and texts from us more promptly, saw a bunch of food wrappers and equally blew up at Seth. We have (try to have) a strict "NO FOOD" policy in bedrooms. I think it is gross. Seth does and has ignored us. I have tried fining him, giving him punishing chores, curfewing his eating all to no avail. It bothers me so much that he always says, "OK" when we holler and then continues to sneak food to his room. Seriously, it makes me want to chain our cupboards and refrigerator. But, that is not the point of this paragraph. My point is, after Jay's blowup, I felt really bad that he was sitting upstairs in his room interpreting all our criticism and loud voices into feeling that both his parents really couldn't stand him. I went upstairs and he lay on his bed with his back turned to me. I sat next to him and started to explain why I had freaked out. I told him about the strange visits on this blog and the alarming number of hits on pictures of him. He listened quietly and then deadpanned, "Maybe it was my science teacher." I burst out laughing (his science teacher strikes us both as kind of scary as she has a perpetual smile on her face. Neither of us trust someone who always smiles) and he said, "No, seriously. The other day, I noticed that she had a picture of me holding Daniel cut out from our Christmas card which I had taken to school and kept in my binder. It must have fallen out onto the floor and she said it was so cute that she wanted to keep it but didn't have room in the frame (I am having a hard time picturing what this picture must be contained in because his description doesn't match a frame) so she cut out Sam and Henry."

I'm glad he was able to laugh it all off and really glad that we ended the night as friends.

Well...there you go. Sending off this post feels a bit like hitting a ball in a racquetball court. It doesn't really feel like it is going anywhere but back to me. I've never been very good at racquetball (too much physics) but picture me with a terry cloth headband, goggles and racquet, ready to play.