More Lunatic Parents

Boy #2 was invited to a sleepover birthday party over the weekend. (I made the mistake of saying it was a slumber party and was quickly corrected.) The party was to start at 2 PM with the 6 guests meeting at the birthday boy's apartment. Then they were going to go to a movie, then back to the apartment for dinner and birthday festivities. We were asked to bring a sleeping bag if we had one. It seemed clear to me that the boys were going to actually sleep. After all, it was a SLEEPover. But I never counted on these lunatic parents. When Mr. Minivan got back at 11 the next morning with a zombie-like Boy #2 and told me the boys hadn't slept all night I couldn't believe my ears. The kids apparently took a vote and decided to stay up all night. And these moronic parents let them. More idiots. Or is it moronic idiots? No, that's redundant. So I cancelled my plans for the day and Boy # 2 dragged himself upstairs and slept for 5 hours til I woke him. I guess it could have been worse. The boys could have taken a vote and decided to jump out of the windows to see if they could fly.

Could I Possibly Be a Freak Magnet??

There is something so comforting about the fact that, no matter where you live, you will eventually come into contact with the lunatics of the neighborhood. We all know them. They think they are better than all of us "regular" parents. They are the parents who don't let their kids watch TV, the ones who don't let their kids eat sugar, the ones who plan activities that exclude certain kids, the ones whose kids are so scheduled they don't have time for playdates, the ones who hold kids to adult standards and don't give second chances, the kind of parents who believe in tit for tat and pay back every real or imagined slight in kind. We've all met people like that. A mom here, a dad there. Just not necessarily all in a perfectly matched his and hers set. I myself had never met one person who had ALL those characteristics and more. Until today. I can't speak too freely. It might not be safe. Here's one universal truth, though. Remember this. Crazy people don't know they're crazy.

The End of an Era

Tonight I tried to reach the bag of rice from the top shelf of a kitchen cabinet. It was just far enough back that I couldn't reach it. I stood on my tippy-toes. No good. I jumped and grabbed at the same time. No good. I grabbed some kitchen tongs and tried to grab it with that, but each attempt pushed the bag just far enough away so that I couldn't. I thought about dragging a chair over and then came up with another idea. "Boy #1," I called. "Come here for a minute." I explained the problem and started to hand him the tongs. He ignored them. He simply stood on his toes and reached for the bag. He got it. No problem. He is almost 2 inches taller than I am. Once small enough to fit in my arms, I now have to reach up to ruffle his hair. It's the end of an era.

Happy Birthday to Boy #2!!

Today is my son's birthday. He is nine. Every year, around November 1st, I always have great intentions. "I'm going to plan his party now. I'm going to think of some great presents for him. I'm not going to get distracted by Thanksgiving and be scrambling after Turkey Day to plan a party in December." This was going to be the year. But guess what? Last night I was at Target at 9:30 at night filling a cart with a bunch of crap--I mean, some nice presents--so Boy #2 would have something to open today. I booked a bowling party for him today, too--the second weekend in December. What is my problem? Why does this whole month fly by every year?

Actually, I think Boy #2 had a pretty nice day. He got some nice presents including a Spongebob cap, a Ripley's Believe it or Not book, and a label maker. Nothing says "Happy Birthday, kid" like office supplies! He got many more presents from other friends and relatives, including 3 pounds of rubber bands to make a giant rubber band ball--but that's a whole 'nother story. He got a giant cookie cake to share with his class at school, and dinner out at one of those Japanese places where they cook on the table in front of you. All in all, a pretty good birthday.

Next year I start planning in October.

Dropping The Ball

Tonight Boy #1 made a simple request. He wanted to go to the local high school football game ("Everybody's going, Mom!") with some friends. A simple request, right? Here's the catch. These friends were getting dropped off. At the game. Alone. They are 11. Yes, 11. Is it me? When I was 11 a big night included watching "The Brady Bunch" and getting to stay up til 10:00. I don't understand it. How can parents think it's OK for 11-year-olds to be out at night unsupervised? Big-time fumble, in my opinion. When I told Boy #1 he could not go unless an adult was going too and then offered to go to the game with him and Boy #2, it turned out he was actually fine not going. He was a little tired and was perfectly happy to go home and watch TV with his brother. I think he just wanted to know that he could go if he wanted to.

What's next, weekends in Vegas when they're 12?

Guest Blogger: Boy #1!!!

Mrs. Minivan can't think of anything so she's having ME write so she won't look bad. Since I'm blogging I will write about what the public wants, and what the public wants is..........A CHICAGO TITLE!!!!!! Most people, including myself, are Cubs fans in Illinois. Even though I'm a Cubs fan I want a professional sports title in Illinois, and that's why I'm offering my support to the White Sox by going to Game #1 of the World Series!!!


This is all I have to say until I blog again so I bid you adieu!

Boy #1

Sweating Soccer Mom

So today I really fell off the deep end. Boy #2 had a soccer game and I had to help Mr. Minivan with some work stuff. I asked the mom of one of his teammates (who is also one of his classmates) if she could give him a ride home. This other mom, who is a lovely lady, by the way, said it was no problem. The game was scheduled from 3 to 4 and is no more than 10 minutes away from our house. I did my work and sent a few emails and then glanced at my watch. 4:32!! I started to wonder where he was. I realized I did not have this mom's cell phone number and called her home number, hoping she would not answer, hoping that maybe her outgoing message would contain her cell number, or that a helpful husband or child would answer and give me the number. No answer. Then I remembered that a friend of mine worked with her and might have her number.

I called my friend and she did have the number. I then proceeded to leave two slightly panicked messages on the cell phone, which, of course, went straight to voice mail! "Hi, I was just calling to see where you are. It's after 4:30 and I'm getting a little worried." By this time my imagination had gone into overdrive and I pictured myself arriving at the soccer field and finding....no one. I grabbed my car keys and left Boy #1 at home with the portable phone in his hand, instructing him to call me immediately when (if?) Boy #2 arrived. I ran out the door and started to drive to the soccer field. Time now is 4:45. I am crazed. I drive up the highway, looking at both the road ahead of me and the cars traveling the opposite direction on the other side. I think I see her car, but I'm not sure. Could be an illusion. I call home and tell Boy #1 to go downstairs and open the garage door and stand in the garage with the phone. "He's home, Mom. I just heard the garage door open," he says. I breathe a sigh of relief and head for home. The demons and dangers lurking in my imagination, in every mom's imagination, have receded. I pull into the garage, go into the kitchen, and see a flushed and tired Boy #2 drinking a Frostee. "How was the game?" I asked. "Why were you so late?" "The game ran a little late and we stopped at Wendy's," he answered, happily slurping.

I called the other mother and told her to disregard the messages on her cell. "I just got myself a little worked up," I told her, "I should have gotten your cell phone number." I could tell she was a little offended. We had been in parallel Mom Universes--me trying to make sure my boy was safe, and she getting the soccer players an icy treat. We were both being good moms, each caught up in our own moment in time.

I know one thing, though, in the future I'll get a cell phone number and make sure the phone is ON.

PTA Overload

I'm exhausted. The bags under my eyes have their own bags. Yesterday was a two-PTA-meeting day, and let me tell you, it's like running a marathon without those little packets of goo. The first PTA meeting of the year is usually the one with the best attendance. The moms new to the school want to see what it's all about, others want to see what's going on, some want to get involved, and of course, at every school there is the core group of Moms Who Do All The Work. The first one was actually not so bad. It was at Boy #1's middle school. I went for the first three reasons. It's too soon to know if I'll fall into the last category. There were about 30 people there, including the principal and the assistant principal, both new to their positions. They are so young I had to restrain myself from asking them if they babysat. The budget for the year was discussed THOROUGHLY and approved. Upcoming activities and programs were also discussed. I like the feeling of knowing what is going on at school and being involved. I also like passing notes back and forth with the friend sitting next to me. It really felt like I belonged in middle school.

Then last night, the PTA meeting at Boy #2"s elementary school. Let me describe it to you this way. A hot and humid night. A sweltering cafeteria. Several families decided it would be a good idea to bring their babies and preschoolers, so there were about 6 LOUD children running around providing singing, dancing, and whining distraction. But wait, there's more. Several horrified kindergarten moms, thinking all the meetings are like this one. I assured them that they are not. Oh, yeah, several of the women doing most of the talking are low-talkers, so between that and the dancing children, who knows what any of us agreed to. It was sort of like a Seinfeld episode. We were only missing the puffy shirt.

School Supply Update

One backpack has been returned and I just got off the phone with a loyal blog-reader (OK--one of my girlfriends) who kindly told me definitely not to use the sling one. Looks cool but too small is the verdict. We just got back from setting up Boy #1's locker at middle school. I may have to take an Advil and lie down for a while. Unbelievable. I must have carried 3 shopping bags full of supplies. I for sure took less to college. We outfitted the locker, which looks great, by the way. The locker has more accessories than I do. Well, maybe not. But it has a little mirror, 2 cool shelves, and a little magnetic container on the back of the door. It is a vision of organizational excellence. I should have taken a photo of it, because today is probably the last day it will look like that. I don't believe his coat will fit in it come winter, but the locker itself looked amazing!

School Supply Blues Revisited

So I buy all these very specific and very many school supplies for Boy #1, for more than I think I spent on supplies my freshman year in college, I might add, and now it's time to test out the backpack. What a hellish nightmare!!! Boy #1 and I have 5 backpacks spread out around us, a rolling one, a sling one, a GIANT one big enough to hold a laptop, too, and 2 "regular" ones. We are testing them out, putting the 2 large binders (one for morning classes, and one for afternoon classes) filled with 3 spirals and 3 color-matching folders each, along with a pencil case per binder--in each of the backpacks, trying to figure out how this is going to work come next Tuesday. It seems like there won't be room for textbooks too. Not to mention that the backpack is so heavy I don't know how he'll carry it. And he is one of the bigger kids in his grade--almost 5'5".

What has happened in our schools? Why do 11 year-olds need well over $100 worth of school supplies? And why do I have to also provide Kleenex and paper towels for the classroom? You'd think that the almost $200 "registration fee" or a tiny bit of the property taxes I pay could be used for facial tissue. I don't get it, but I don't have time to think about it. I have to go to four different stores to return four extra backpacks......

School Supply Blues?

Remember the good old days when you could buy all the school supplies your kid needed for ten bucks and have money left over for lunch at McDonald's too? Yeah, neither do I. I just bought school supplies for Boy #1, who is headed soon for middle school, and spent over $100!! That's without the flash drive, which is "strongly recommended" for all students at his soon-to-be school. (No.... Mr. Minivan--a flash drive doesn't involve shocking the truck driver next to us on a long, lonely stretch of highway....) For those of you wondering what a flash drive is, which is what I was wondering when I first read the school supply list, it is a little thingy that hangs on your keychain that allows you to transfer your files to it and access them on another computer. Just what every 6th grader needs, right? Well, I grew up in a time when a couple of new spiral notebooks, as well as a Chandler's assignment notebook (with as many colors of Flair pens as you could get your parents to buy you attached to it) meant you were ready for a new school year.

I still love school supplies. What a sense of hope and optimism there is in a simple crisp new spiral. Every new school year the same thoughts: "I'm going to keep up with assignments and not try to cram everything in on Sunday nights. " I'm going to do this three-week project a little at a time." Even if you're not in school, every fall is a fresh start and every new notebook a new beginning.

I love school supplies so much that, as I was picking up six 70-page spiral notebooks (blue, yellow, red, green, black, and purple) for my son, along with matching colored pocket folders, I threw in a couple for myself. After all, you're never too old for new beginnings, are you?

Tennis, anyone?

Here in my town, there comes a time every year when all thoughts and conversation turn to.....Park District Tennis Sign-Up. Yes, it's quite the event here, mainly because if you get into a certain class you get first dibs on sign-up for that particular class for the rest of the year. So people go and literally camp out at the tennis facility because sign-up is on a first-come first-serve (no pun intended) basis. So the other day was the sign-up for kids' classes, and it started at 7 PM. I needed to sign up my younger son, Boy #2, and there were a couple of class options that would fit into his busy schedule. You know how it is--between soccer, Hebrew, and basketball--we still had a few openings available! So I drove up at 6:40 PM. I knew right away I should have come earlier and brought a little snack and perhaps a 300-page novel to pass the time--because the parking lot was totally full and the minivans and SUV's were even forced to park in the fire lanes. I, being a law-abiding citizen, parked legally down the road and walked toward the building. I ran into a woman whose kids go to my kids' school. "I'm having a hard time picturing my mother doing something like this!" I commented. "I know," she said, "and I'm really bad--I hired someone to sit there for me." I stopped in my tracks. "What?" I stuttered, "you mean, like a kid?" "Yes, " she answered "she's been there since 4". "Cool," I said weakly. "Damn!!" I thought to myself, "What a great idea!! Boy #1 has been home all afternoon--he could have been sitting here. A couple of bucks for the vending machines and he'd have been fine. I have to make a note for next year's sign-up."
Anyway, I walked in at about 6:42 and was #84. I got the class I wanted for Boy #2 and all's well that ends well! I was home by 7:20. Next year Boy #1 gets dropped off right after lunch. Maybe the last Harry Potter will just have come out and he'll never realize he's not on the couch at home.....
If you see my mom, let's just keep this between ourselves. She'd never understand.