Kids: Life's Great Paradox

More accurately, the title should read, "Kids: Our attitude toward them is paradoxical." Is paradoxical even a word?





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• We can't wait to have children.  Then, we have them.  To paraphrase Shrek,  "They poop and they cry and they cry when they poop and they eat and they cry and they cry when they eat and then they poop some more. . ." and we say, "Man, I can't wait until this kid is potty trained and sleeps through the night." 
• When the kids were potty trained, it was like getting a pay raise.  When they slept through the night, we still woke up at 3 a.m. and would tiptoe into the bedroom and make sure they were still breathing.
 



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• We love holding the babies.  They're small, cherubic, warm, snuggly.  And we say, "Holy cow, I can't wait until this kid is old enough to walk because my back is killing me from carrying him/her all over, wherever we go."  Then, the kid learns to walk and we wish for a way to corral him so he stays out of mischeif.
 



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• At first, we're so thrilled to see and own every piece of baby paraphernelia known to mankind.  Then, as baby grows, we say, "This crap is expensive! What do we need that for?" And you buy it anyway.  You say, "I can't wait until they outgrow this stuff and we don't have to buy it anymore."
• Then, we discover by around age sixteen, the price of the kid's toys has gone up considerably.
 



youngadults.about.com

• Our kids drive us crazy, we think, and we say we can't wait until the move out of the house.  No more waiting up nights, wondering if they're all right while they're out with their friends.  No more hollering, "Turn down that music!" or "Take out the trash!" or "Did you do your homework?"  Then, the kids are off to college, or moving out "for good," and suddenly we wish they were home, again.
 



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• We say, "Just wait until you have kids of your own," because we feel we are superior in our knowledge that our own kids will be driven absolutely crazy like we were.  We say, "I hope you have a kid just. . . like. . . yourself." And we mean it, for every time our kids were sullen, snotty, sweet, caring, kind, wise. . ." And then, our kids have kids and suddenly we feel old - because we're grandparents, and in holding that grandchild, we suddenly remember what it was like to hold our own for the very first time - and how we were so thrilled to have that new life.  And then we remember that it's time for the 3 a.m. feeding and we say, "They poop and they cry and they cry when the poop. . ."

As my daughter said to me the other day, "What is it with grown ups? One day they want us to be babies, and the next day they want us to be grown up."

I said, "Just wait until you have kids of your own."

Cell Phone Harmony: A-one...a-two...a-three...

picturesof.net

It's that time of year when parents of children of all ages are invited to hear the accumulation of a years' worth of work.

That is, if your child is involved in some sort of music program.

Every spring, my kids were tortured pleased to participate in a spring music program in elementary school.  This consisted of kids taking the stage according to grade level and singing such hits as, "My Bonny Lies Over the Ocean."  Parents waited patiently and applauded enthusiastically at the end of each number, and no one could stifle grins once the kindergarteners took the stage.



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Once the kids hit middle school, the music program gets a little more serious. The admiration toward the elementary music director over how she can tease music out of kids drawn in squiggle-vision turns to real awe once you hear the middle school choir.

We recently attended the spring concert for my daughter, Big Sister, and what a treat that was.  A choir for each of three grades, varying numbers of participants, and excellent talent and skill across the board.

The only discordant notes to be heard were those of a cell phone.

Heavy sigh.

I've said it a million times, but I suppose I must say it again - though if you're a semi-regular reader, I know I'm just preaching to the choir (no joke intended, as this is about something that occurred during a choir concert):



electricalres.com

TURN OFF THE CELL PHONE.

Please.  For the listening pleasure of the rest of the crowd, turn off the cell phone.  Let me repeat that once more:

Turn off the cell phone.

The discordant jangle of the cell phone occurred a few times over the course of the evening.  To listen to the songs of three grades took just about one hour.  60 minutes of an audience's time to hear their child sing, and a few people couldn't live without their cell phones.

I believe my sister summed it up best, when she experienced this at her son, Bud's, band concert this spring:

"Mom and dad, am I so unimportant that I can't have fifteen minutes of your undivided time and attention so I can share with you some of the things I've learned this year?"

Yes, Virginia, you are unimportant.

You are SO unimportant that mommy and daddy cannot possibly distance themselves from their electronic gadgets more than two seconds in order to give you time and attention.  Don't worry, honey.  You can always text them from your seat onstage and let them know you're there.

 One rather incongruous thing happened at Bud's concert, though.  One of the students had a cell phone announce its presence just before it was time to play.



christianschooljournal.com

I wonder how many parents thought, huffily, "WHAT does a SEVENTH GRADER need with a CELL PHONE.  It's the SPRING CONCERT for PETE'S SAKE."

Well.  Whatever his reasons, he no doubt learned it from the adults in his life.

Skytel cellular phone commercial, youtube.com.

Remember this gem?

Ten Things I'd like to tell Other Parents (but probably won't)

This week's idea comes from Mama Kat, who wanted to hear the ten things other people told me about my parenting skills (unsolicited advice, of course - because it's the best kind, right?). Aside from hearing, periodically, that my children's misbehavior is due to "poor parenting," I can't think of anything more insulting to say.

Instead, I'm going to insult everyone else and list the top ten things I'd like to say to other parents - but probably never will, because then they might hit me.

1.  It's cold out.  I see you're wearing a jacket and a hat, but your tyke isn't. What the hell is wrong with you? Cover that baby up!


articles.sfgate.com
ok - this kid is old enough to know
better - but when they aren't old enough,
PARENTS are supposed to take care of
things.

 2.   Will you please wipe that child's nose? It's obviously dripping, and just ignoring it isn't going to make it go away.  Neither is pretending you don't see when the child wipes his/her nose on the shopping cart.



flickr.com
PUHLEEZE WIPE THIS NOSE NOW!

 3.  When the entire waiting room can smell poop, and your child is the only one in diapers, would you please quit gassing the rest of us and go change the diaper? Your child will thank you, and so will the rest of us. (Yes, this happened once, in a doctor's waiting room).

4.  Do you *really* think it's appropriate for your little girl to wear shorts or sweatpants that read "JUICY" across the butt? Again, what the hell is wrong with you?

5.  Is it *really* necessary to schedule your child for non-stop activities? Does your child ever get to just be a kid, and have some down-time for non-scheduled, non-adult supervised play? You know, like back in the good old days, when the kid could say, "Going for a bike ride," and mom would call out, "Be home for dinner"?



mormonchic.com
Divide this little picture up into 8 more
segments, now. And throw in a couple
more kids, to boot.

6.  No, I don't want to hear your little darling sing the Alphabet song or George Carlin's list of words you can't say on t.v. just because I happen to be a captive audience.

7.  Is it wise to allow your third grader to watch R-rated slasher flicks like "Friday the 13th"? I realize they're probably too old for Winnie the Pooh, but somehow Freddy Krueger doesn't seem like much of an age-appropriate improvement.



flickr.com
Freddy - your kid's new
bff

 8.  Yeah, I know the kids are corralled in a tight space and it isn't the most ideal situation, and sometimes you have to bring the kids because the baby-sitter arrangements fell through at the last minute.  And I know that even the most well-behaved kids will act up (and out) at the most inopportune and inappropriate times.  However, it's really not fair to the rest of us to be witness to your child/ren's rampaging all over the waiting room (or other public area) while you hide behind your book or newspaper.  Please - will you keep an eye on your children and quit making the village watch out for their safety?



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What a sweetheart!


9.  It's ok to discipline your child in public and private. I don't agree with public beatings, slaps, smacks, throwdowns, etc. But it's perfectly fine to firmly say, "No" and stick by it.  It's hard at first, but believe me - your child, and the rest of the people s/he interacts with, will thank you some day.


sodahead.com
But dad, I've heard YOU say
that word!

 10.  I know it's always 10:00 a.m. somewhere, but here it happens to be 10:00 p.m.  The toddler in your grocery cart is obviously overwrought and exhausted, cranky, and irritable.  Do you honestly expect us to believe that 10:00 p.m. is the *only* time you can get out to the store to get those critical items you need, like your thong panties and 6-pack? Do your child a favor and GO HOME and put that poor child to bed.



shutterstock.com
Take that poor kid home
and put him to bed!

Parent Peeves

Peeves the Poltergeist
Harry Potter novels and films
totalfilm.com

What is a 'Peeve,' anway?

Sometimes a "peeve" seems like that obnoxious poltergeist from the Harry Potter novels.  Othertimes, we consider it "just an annoyance."

Mama Kat is tapping into her follower's peevedom by asking what the top parenting peeve is.

Is it. . . screaming children? tarted-up children? parents who do everything for their child?

If you're not sure, but wonder if you made the list, here are some bloggers to check out:

• Mom*Vana  -"I saw a woman with a little army of 6 children all trailing behind her with GIANT cups of soda from 7-11. I wanted to slap her. I am sorry but that is ridiculous. On a hot day, give your kid water." 
• Parenting by Dummies  - “I’m going to count to 5…”  And then what?  And why not 3?  Personally, by the time you get to 3, I’ve had it with you, your kid, and your useless counting, so why bother going all the way to 5? "
• My Perfect Little World - "How about once they're in college, you let them pick their OWN classes?"
• My Memory Art - "I also stopped telling pee, poo, food, sleeping, sickness, behavior, and embarrassing narratives about my kids while they were anywhere within hearing distance at a very young age. "
• The Raven's Spell - '“Shhhhhh” is far louder, disruptive, and just plain annoying than a kid getting excited to see hyenas appear on screen. If you plan to take your child to a movie, guess what, they are going to have a few things to say.'
• Footprints in the Sand - "I remember seeing a five year old boy at the grocery store last year, submissively following behind his father when he accidentally bumped into the aisle causing a jar of pickles to drop on the floor.  It was an accident.  In less than five seconds the father turned around and yelled at his son in such a way that I started crying. "
• What the Grimgirl looks forward to-" When I was a child, it seemed as though my sister and I were the only kids on the block who wore shoes in the summer. It wasn’t that the other kids didn’t have shoes; it was that my mother would not let us out the door without them."
•  

  

  homeimprovementforparents.com
  Hey - let's cut those strings,
  shall we?

  Because my life is fascinating - I" don't care if this goes into a "college fund." By the time she's of age for college she's going to be such a bimbo that she'll be beyond repair. And don't tell me you're trying to boost her confidence. Getting judged for how she looks in a bathing suit at age 10 is NOT going to encourage ANY confidence."
• Shit in the bathtub: Adventures in crap-tastic mommy moments - "But when I look over while driving and see a car full of children and the parents in the front driving and smoking (windows cracked or open) – let me tell you – I not only judge you, I consider that child abuse and neglect."
• So this is the good life - "I know a lot of parents who keep their child up late at night (11:00, midnight, sometimes even later) so that they will sleep in the next morning so the parent can sleep in too."
• Mommy's Lounge - ". . . there are lots of baby-talking-mommies out there! (Can you say, “annoying to the nth degree?”) I feel so bad for the kid who misses the opportunity to develop vocabulary, proper inflection, syntax and all that good stuff."

My own commentary on parental pet peeves is here, and based on what I've read from the funny ladies who post at the blogs above, there are a lot of people out there who are on the same page.

So - what's your biggest parental pet peeve? 

Driving with Daisy

It's happening.

The gray hairs are sprouting profusely upon my head.

Why?

Not simple old age, though that would be plenty of reason.

 No, the gray hairs are here because my teen-aged daughter is learning how to drive.

"Daisy," aka "Big Sister," is a responsible kid.  She's an excellent student, she's mature, she's smart, she uses her head for something other than a hat rack.

Her dad has taken her out driving several times on those country roads, and she's practiced moving the car from driveway to garage.  So her first time driving, in formal driver's education wasn't too terrible.  She could turn a corner with ease, maintain her speed, and change radio stations with the flick of a fingertip.

Hi & Lois comic strip

In an attempt to set a better example (*ahem) I made a concerted effort to bring my own driving skills up to driver's education standards.

• Proper lane changes.

• When turning corners and presented with multiple lanes, choosing the closest lane to me and then making a proper lane change.

• Coming to a complete stop at EVERY corner that is marked with a stop sign.

• Maintaining the posted speed limit.  

• Biting my tongue when other drivers do stupid things that make me want to cuss.  "That's road rage," my daughter stated, as I matter-of-factly and calmly said to the car in front of me, "Way to cut me off, jerk."  

What? I didn't even call that person what I was really thinking, like mother-effing asshole  and I didn't even raise my voice.

Driver's education back in the dinosaur days never addressed "road rage."

How things have changed.

One thing that hasn't changed is the "stop, then creep up and stop again" move that I remember from Driver's Ed. days.  If you're feeling puzzled, don't.  You've probably just forgotten what that entailed.

www.clkr.com
crosswalk - where would you stop?

Say you're pulling up to a stop sign.  Most of us pull up until we can see around any obstacles in our view so we can see if it is then safe to cross through the intersection.   At an intersection where there is a stop sign, cars are supposed to stop at the stop sign, or at the white line that marks the cross walk for pedestrians.

I recall my instructor saying, "You just ran over a pedestrian," when I chanced to stop the vehicle over those white lines.

Students are taught to first stop at the stop sign or the white lines, and then creep forward and stop a second time when the view isn't obstructed by parked vehicles, construction, overgrown shrubbery, etc.  When the way is clear, after 2 complete stops, you are to then proceed through the intersection.

This works fine when you're not at a 4-way stop, and there aren't other cars present.

At a 4-way stop, people get confused when they see a driver pull up and stop ("Oh good! The driver stopped.  Now it's my turn to go!") and then pull up again ("No, wait a minute. What are they doing? They stopped, and now they're moving again. It's not their turn to go through the intersection. . .is it?")  and then stop a second time ("They're stopping again.  What the hell. Is it ok for me to pull through, or not?").

I reached this conclusion only after multiple false starts from multiple people we encountered at 4-way stops.  "Daisy, you're confusing people when you do that. Just pull up, stop, check for pedestrians, bikes, and cars, wait  your turn if you need to, and keep driving," I said in exasperation.

"BUT MOOOOM," Daisy replied, "They'll FAIL me if I don't do that! That's how Veronica flunked HER driving test and she had to take it over again!"

True story.

Another thing I've noticed while Driving with Daisy is that, after she has come to a complete stop and is ready to get the vehicle moving again, she feels the need to immediately be at the posted speed limit.  This reminds me of that THX blip that would play before every video or movie  - except the transition is much less smooth.  "SLOW DOWN!"  I say, attempting not to slam on that imaginary brake that I wish was on the passenger side.  "You can only go as fast - or SLOW in this case!- as the cars around you, regardless of the posted speed limit!"

Daisy just sighs.  "I KNOW, mom. . ."

I seriously don't know how I ever got a driver's license, because I had much less time behind the wheel than Daisy - who only has a permit, and isn't fully licensed yet.  I think this graduated licensing system in our state is probably the best thing this state has ever done, when it comes to licensing young adults.  If it weren't in place, I would propose that young people begin learning to drive at the age of 12, driving something indestructible - like a tank. Then, by the age of 15 or 16, they can try out their skills on the family car.

Daisy is used to driving a floor shift, which pops into gear a little easier than my on-the-column dealie.

My most recent gray hairs, after a rolled stop sign, a few THX moves, and some really short stops, came inside the car, inside the garage.

Daisy pulled up and parked and did a fine job wedging the car into the narrow space allotted for it in the garage.  I attempted to exit the vehicle.  The door would not open.  The locks were engaged.  I thought for a moment.  "Daisy," said I, "Please turn on the car one more time."

Daisy turned the key in the ignition.  I looked at the dashboard lights.  "Daisy," said I, "Please put your foot on the brake and put the car in park."

Daisy's face was carefully blank as she followed instructions.  "Daisy," said I, "now please turn the car off, again."

Daisy complied.

I tried the door.  It opened.

The following morning, I attempted to leave for work. I started the car.

Nothing happened.

I tried again.

Nothing happened.

Third time's always the charm, so I tried again.

Nothing happened.

My first thought:  Daisy.

My second thought:  New battery, completely dead.

amhistory.si.edu
Anybody remember those wonderful "simulators" we had
back in the 1980s?

"Husband," called I, "I'm walking to work - the car won't start."  I wasn't happy, but I live close enough that I can walk, if I want  need to - though I don't relish taking my life into my hands by crossing five lanes of traffic on one of the busies thoroughfares in town.

At the end of my day, I found a note on the cupboard from Husband.  "The battery is fine. The car was not fully in 'park' when it was turned off."

My first thought:  Daisy.

My second thought: So glad it isn't a dead (brand new) battery.

Daisy was feeling rather sheepish when I explained how my day had started.

We'll be practicing what it sounds like when the car is fully in "park."  The door locks click open, for one thing.

torontoist.com

Gray hairs sproing into place when we're driving in parking lots, too.  You've all been there, I bet some of you have done this, too.  You're looking for a parking place, and you drive over those white lines where the cars are NOT parked in your haste to find the right spot, rather than using the aisles.  My instructor told me once, too, "You just drove over some parked cars."

I have since gotten out of the habit of driving over parked, invisible cars - for many reasons.  One, if you're driving over empty parking places, anybody else who's driving in that parking lot has no idea where you're going.  Two, if you're driving over parking spaces, you aren't in the aisles intended for driving, and if you hit me,  my bet is that you're getting the ticket, not me, because you're not driving in the designated driving space. You're driving over empty parking spaces.

I can already hear your arguments.  "THERE'S NOBODY THERE, WHO CARES?"  There isn't anybody there - until suddenly there is, in that designated aisle way, and you've just hit them in your haste to cut across parking spaces and find a place to park.  So unless that lot is empty of other vehicles, drive where you're supposed to.  That's what those lines are for, asshat

According to this web site , Rules of the Road should apply in parking lots, too.

"Even when the rules of the road don't legally apply, drivers should still be following them in parking lots, says Bobbie Turcotte, manager of CAA driver training. That means, for example, not zooming diagonally though empty parking spaces to get to an exit more quickly

“We'd never have students driving through empty parking spaces,” Turcotte says. “Instead of cutting through spaces and lanes where there are no vehicles, you should treat the lanes in the parking lot as though they are lanes of traffic on a road."

I wish we'd follow the lead of our Canadian neighbors on this one.

"I'll let you out, red car, even though there is traffic in
the other lane. I don't mind totaling someone else's vehicle,
as long as you get to pull out and not have to wait
any longer!"
DON'T DO IT!

Another thing I encourage Daisy to do is probably considered rude by many of you, who naturally want to instill good manners in all areas of life, including driving.

When you are driving in one direction, and a vehicle is trying to make a left-hand turn which would mean crossing your lane to do so (such as to enter or exit a parking lot or side street) do NOT.  I repeat.  Do NOT stop and wave that person through.  You are then an accident waiting to happen.

Sure, you think you're being polite - because we've all been in those Interminable Left Turn situations. You wait and you wait and you wait and you're getting wrinkles by the minute and soon you're drawing social security -   and now finally traffic has cleared and you can make your turn.

If you're on a four-lane road, the traffic in the other lane may not realize you're allowing somebody to cut across.  Guess what happens?  Yep - car turns out of parking lot because you waved it through, and person in left lane smashes right into it - or the person turning out of the lot smashes into a moving vehicle in the other lane.

THANK YOU for being so fucking stupid  kind.  You've now just helped two people wreck their vehicles, and likely sustain injury. 

How do I know this? Because I am Oz the Great and Powerful and All-Knowing.  Because this has happened to Husband.  He was the person who was hit by the car who was turning out of a parking place, waved through by a well-meaning asshat person who thought they'd be kind and let this person into traffic.  

Oh the list of annoying and dangerous driving habits of Other People is very long.  I'd continue, but I have to go do something about all those gray hairs.

Summer Haze: 2010

Kids are spoiled these days.

I know, I've become my mother - she said the same thing about my generation.  Likely, every parent has said this about their child since the beginning of time.  Even Adam and Eve must have said of Cain and Abel, "Oh quit fighting! When I was your age - and I was never your age - I didn't have anybody to play with!"

I'm betting the temperature in the Garden of Eden was at a nicely controlled 80-degrees Fahrenheit, though, warm enough to grow things during the day, and dipping down to a nice 72-degree Fahrenheit at night, for sleeping.  I suppose the temperature got too warm one day though, and after demanding air conditioning, Adam and Eve were banned from the Garden.

Most kids where I live have air conditioning.  They can't imagine a life without the air conditioning running from the first hot day of summer until the first cool blast of fall.  Even the schools have air conditioning now.  Remember in the dark ages, when schools had air conditioning only in the office, if they had it at all?  In elementary school, we'd spend time on hot days making accordian-pleat fans out of lined paper.  We'd flip and fold and flip and fold, no doubt driving our teachers and fellow classmates to distraction in our efforts to dispel the heat.  All the same, we couldn't wait to get outside in that heat for after-lunch recess.

My kids can't imagine a life without air conditioning. I'll admit I'm spoiled, too, and don't want to imagine a life without it. 

As a kid, though, air conditioning was something you encountered at the stores, or rich people's houses.  Nobody had central air in their home.  A few people might have a window-unit air conditioner, but most of us depended on open windows, screen doors, and box fans. 

Smart people would follow the sun around the house (no, not literally!) and close curtains or pull shades to keep out the sun, thus cooling that part of the house just a little bit.  As the sun moved, the curtains would be opened. 

In early morning, windows would be thrown open to let in the cooler morning air.  By mid-morning, shades and curtains would be pulled, fans would be running.  Anything that required an appliance to run would be done early in the morning, so as to avoid heating up the house.  About the only exception was if it was a birthday - then the oven would be on to bake the cake. 

In the evening, as the sun lowered, windows would open again to let in cooler air.  Your box fan would be placed in the window, and if the air was cool enough, you pointed it inward so it would pull in cool air from outside and cool off the room.  If it was hot in your room, you'd point the fan outward, to pull the hot air outside.  If it was raining though, you had to take the fan out of the window or risk electrocution. 

Anyone from the generation pictured on the right remembers it being hot enough to roll down your stockings.  Some of you might remember grandmas who wore nothing but dresses, ever, even after it became fashionable for women to wear slacks and shorts.  My grandma was one such woman.  I doubt she'd have ever rolled down her stockings, either, even if it was 95 degrees with a 100-degree Fahrenheit heat index. 

I'm sure, though, during a private moment in the course of the day, the ladies of the generation pictured at the right may have paused for tea. They'd need a break after washing clothes with the wringer-washer, and hanging them on the line.  Baking bread and putting on a meal without the help of boxed foods or frozen foods was a real chore - or labor of love!  Scrubbing floors and ironing were jobs better left for a cool day, but who knew when that would happen?  Quick - the kids are outside and busy. Maybe there are five minutes just for me!  They'd have sat with their dresses slightly above the knee, stockings rolled down, with the rotating fan placed strategically so their legs could be cooled. 

It's no wonder many women of a certain era  had "the vapors" and had to rest during the day.  Can you imagine wearing as much fabric as the woman on the right, on a 90 degree day?  Oh, and don't forget the corset, either, and the multiple petticoats.  And don't you dare show your ankles.

Of course, today's women can dress much more casually for hot weather, like our bathing beauties in the left-hand photo.

Regardless, my kids have a hard time imagining a home without air conditioning.  They barely remember our first house, which had a window unit for the summer.   That was placed in the master bedroom, and fans were placed strategically in the hallway to blow the cooler air throughout the rest of the house.  I followed the sun, closing curtains and creating a cave-like effect indoors.  A dehumidifier completed the summer ensemble, and gradually our home would be a few degrees cooler than the hot outdoors.  Ceiling fans helped circulate the still air.  Still, doors would swell, tempers would be short, and sleep would be but a fleeting dream during the really hot days.

Anyone old enough to remember riding in the back seat of one of these, pictured at left, as a kid?  Remember those vinyl seats?  Most cars "back in the day" didn't have air conditioning, either.  When the car was locked, we left the windows rolled down a crack to let air in, but when it was time to leave the parking lot, there was no fast way to cool down the car except to roll the windows down all the way.  This didn't do much for those wonderful vinyl seats which were heated to just the right temperature to scorch bare legs.

There was also no such thing as "keyless entry," or automatic locking and unlocking of doors, or automatic popping open of a trunk, either.  Nor could you start the car from a distance - you actually  had to be sitting in the seat, turning the key in the ignition, and pushing down on the gas.  What a concept.

My husband and I always laugh about car trips when we were kids, in the days before air conditioning.  If there were more than two in the back seat, it was an extra sticky trip because not only did you stick to the vinyl seat, but you stuck to each other.  Yes, cars were roomier "back then" - ok, 1970s - but you know how kids are:  "SHE'S ON MY SIDE!"  we'd whine, if a sibling crossed that invisible line we drew down the seat in order to keep from touching each other.

We could unroll our windows a little bit, with permission, but most car windows in the back seat didn't open more than half-way, anyway.  Up front, though, the windows had these little triangular windows that could be tilted outward to let in air.  If you look closely at the car on the left, you can see the triangular-shaped window (still closed).  As the car sped along at 55 mph, all you could hear was this "fffffffff   ffffffffff" sound of wind through the gap of that triangular window.  Then, my husband and I laugh, it wasn't cool enough, so the window would be unrolled just a crack and along with "fffffff" we'd hear "FFFFFFFF    WHoooooooshUFFFffffffffff WHOOOOOOshUFFFFffffff."  Inevitably, dad would turn on AM radio to hear a game, and because AM radio rarely comes in clear, there would be lots of static to go along with the "ffffFFFFFFfffff" of the windows.   

Regardless, car trips in the summer were hot.  But, not ever having had air conditioning, we didn't know any different.  We didn't know any different when it came to sleeping in hot rooms with box fans in the window, either.

One day though, air conditioning became more affordable (I'm guessing) and pretty soon everybody had it.  We didn't need to escape to shopping malls or to the beach for relief from the heat.  Cars got air conditioning as just a normal part of a basic package deal, no longer one of the expensive options. 

About the only time we experience any great degree of discomfort is if the power goes out, and we can't use the air conditioning.  Should that happen this summer, I hope you remember how to make your pleated fans out of paper - it's a life skill you might have to teach your kids.

Summer Pot Pourri: 2009

A summer flashback to July 30, 2009.  Fashions . . . if they can be called such . . . haven't changed much in the last ten years or so, and I would hazard that they've not improved, based on this writing.  

Summer has been here for several weeks now.  Any time of year is good for thoughts worthy of great pondering, but for some reason, this summer has really brought out the Big Thinks.

I'm not a big fan of the "If you've got it, flaunt it" philosophy, primarily because whether or not you've got "it" is such a difficult thing to pinpoint.  Beauty, as it should be, is in the eye of the beholder - and everyone has different standards of beauty.  This is a good thing.

That said, I must say that my standards of beauty do not include cuppeths that overfloweth on a daily basis in public places.  Perhaps it is the places I shop. Walmart has never been the harbinger of fashion based solely on those who shop there. I can say this, because I shop there now and then and am definitely not fashionable. 

Why is it though, whenever I'm at that particular place of business in the summer months, all I see are Titties on Parade?  Nearly every female shopper under the age of 50 is showing off The Girls in some ridiculously low-cut tank top.  On some women, regardless of breast size, the tank tops barely cover their chests. 

I don't care how firm The Girls are, I don't care how saggy The Girls are, nor how large or small or in-between.  Women, PUT SOME CLOTHES ON BEFORE YOU GO IN PUBLIC, PLEASE.

I felt sorely in need of antiseptic eye wash by the time I left the store.

On the topic of overwhelming cleavage, let's turn our attention to cleavage at the other end of the body.

I'll say it for a hundredth time:  butt cleavage is not attractive.  It's only cute on babies, and it happens on babies only because when they start to become ambulatory, their diapers tend to start sagging and show off those cute little baby buns.

If you're not diapered AND learning to walk AND under the age of three, knock it off with the butt cleavage already.  I don't care if you're in tip-top physical condition, I have no desire to see the crack of your ass every time you bend over, sit down, or stand up straight or whatever.  I don't care if you have a tattoo (tramp stamp?) that you want to show off.  I don't care if you want to show off the latest color of your "underwear" (whale tail?).  PULL UP YOUR DAMNED PANTS, PLEASE.

And parents, get your little girls some pants that cover their heinies, please. Your little girls are definitely jail bait until the age of 16 in most states, and pants that cover butt cleavage are definitely available if you look for them.  I know, because I've purchased them and my daughter wears them.  Try Kohl's, Sears/Land's End catalogs, and there are some WalMart brands that cover underage female tushies.

On that note, you might invest in suspenders for your young boys, too.  They really need to pull up their pants.

Before I close this section on fashion, or my own lack thereof seeing as the things I'm complaining about seem to be current fashion anymore, can we stop with the flip-flops, please? Back in the dinosaur age, when I was a kid, we called them "thongs." Now, however, "thongs" refer to that piece of dental floss that separates butt cheeks, which is supposed to double as underwear.  Anyway - can we quit wearing thongs to church and school, and in the workplace? 

I'm feeling rather harassed by the lawn chemical companies in our neighborhood. Every other day this spring there was a flier in my newspaper box or hanging from the mailbox or doorknob advertising the special deals from some lawn spraying company.  Each company claimed to maintain the lawns of all my neighbors, and would, for the low low price of something-99 help eradicate the weeds in my front yard with regular treatment.

I finally called the lawn company who left the most fliers at my house and demanded they remove me from the list.  They were instructed to think of my home as No. 12 Grimmald Place, London, England.  For those not in the know, this is the address of Sirius Black, of the Harry Potter novels - to Muggle eyes (humans with non-magical powers) the house did not exist - it was just an empty lot between two known addresses.

When distributing their notices, the lawn company was instructed to pretend my house did not exist. Pass me by completely.  I am too cheap, and too broke, to afford a lawn care service to do something I can get my husband to do for free:  take care of the weeds.  Not to mention every solicitor has ignored the signs posted on my door which read "NO SALES." 

Plus, during those really hot weeks we always get in Michigan, when my front lawn looks like a Triscuit, the weeds are the only greenery out there.  They're natural.  They're not overwhelming.  I pull them (yes, PULL them, by HAND) when I feel like it, and now and then they get the chemical treatment from hubby.  And frankly, if my  neighbors hate the sight of what they perceive to be my weed-infested lawn, then they can pay for the maintenance of it.

Overall, our neighborhood is a pretty quiet place.  On a clear day, we can hear the football team practice, the band playing during football season, other sporting events.  In the spring and through fall, we hear mowers regularly.  I hate hearing them at 9 at night, however.  I know people work some odd shifts, but the mowers I hear belong to those who are retired.  9 p.m. for lawn mowing? Come on, people.  You can do better than that.

Dogs bark, too.  There are two that live on the street behind us.  The dogs don't bark until someone mows their lawn, which in this neighborhood, is about every half hour.  One dog owner mowed her lawn in stops and starts for about three hours.  Mow ten minutes, stop for fifteen.  Mow ten minutes, stop for fifteen.  The dog barked incessantly.  I was ready to hop the fence, Superman style, and finish her lawn mowing duties for her.

It was only my inability to hop a chain link fence without catching my shorts that stopped me.

Others like to burn things.

I don't know who it is in the neighborhood, but it never fails that on the really nice days when one can open windows and enjoy a breeze, some nitwit has to start the burn barrel going.  Naturally, the wind blows my way and then my rooms start to smell like smoke.  I wish our area would enforce a burn time.  For instance, save the burning for the hours of 4 pm to 10 pm.  You  know, when certain retirees like to mow their lawns and make dogs bark.

Well, summer is still in full force here and we're all glad of it. Winters in Michigan are long, and soon enough we'll be in "pre-winter" (fall, to the non-Michiganders or Michiganians).  I'm contemplating donating suspenders to the elementary schools in my area for the start of the school year.  They might be needed more than pencils and crayons.  As for the offenders who show too much cleavage in any area? I may have to pay, on the sly, a few delinquents to carefully aim juicy spit wads. A few episodes of cleaning that off of your body might make a person think twice about what kind of skin they expose during the times they're in public.

Until then, I'm going to enjoy the smell of freshly cut grass and the green of my lawn weeds.

Laundry, Laundry, Everywhere

More March 2009 musings:  

I don't know what it is anymore, but it seems like all I ever do is laundry.  Everyone else I talk to is always doing laundry, too.

Back in the day when I had an infant and then a toddler, I expected there would be laundry on a regular -- daily -- basis.  Little kids urp up, they have leaky diaper accidents, their bedding needs changing frequently.  I did hope that as the kids grew older, the need to do laundry constantly would diminish.

When I was a kid at home, the laundry was done about two to three times a week -- for just clothing.  But there were seven people in the house, and that's just how it was.  Mom had other things to do besides do wash every day, and if your clothes didn't hit the hamper or the sorted piles in front of the washer on laundry day, well you were just S.O.L. 

That stands for "So Out of Luck," since this is considered a family web site.

On the non-clothing washing days, mom did sheets and towels. 

I just don't know what the problem is, though, that with only four people in my house, it seems like my washer runs more than it should.  Everyone else I talk to says the same thing.  We don't have a houseful, they say, so what's the deal?

The light bulb flickered briefly though, in commiserating with a co-worker.  She said to me, "Well, when we were kids, we wore our things more than once before they were tossed in the washer.  At least, it was that way with our jeans. And bath towels were used a couple of times before laundering, because if you were fresh out of the tub, you were considered clean, right? So why would you need a new towel from the closet for the next time?"

As soon as she said that, I realized why my washer was working overtime.  What my co-worker said rang true, because it was the same at my house. 

When I was a kid, and this may be true for other readers as well, you wore the same pair of jeans or pants or what-not to school more than one day.  You might flop them over a chair for a day or so later, because heaven knows you didn't want anyone to think you wore the same thing two days in a row.  But wear them again indeed? You sure did. 

Shirts didn't get that kind of repeat.  We tend to get those dirtier what with ketchup spills and just plain old sweat.  But sweaters, if you had a shirt on underneath them, were usually good for another wear or two before they needed washing.

Think about it, though.  If you "recycled" your pants and wore them more than one time per week, before washing, would the amount of laundry you do decrease?

In today's times though, if something is worn once, it's dropped in the wash.  Even if the garment is worn for a couple of hours, it hits the clothes hamper immediately.  In some cases, if something is just tried on -- if you have preteens and teens in the house -- and then dropped on the floor for consideration later in the week, even if that garment is never worn, it hits the laundry.  It was on the floor, so it must be dirty, right?

I have gone on strike regarding laundry from time to time, refusing to do wash more than two days a week.  It does pile up, and since the washer and dryer share the half-bath in our house, huge piles of laundry can make navigating your way safely to the toilet a little bit treacherous at times. 

One week, I washed and folded clothes for the requisite four days of laundry-doing and decided to keep everything in the laundry basket.  The pile grew higher and higher, and still I didn't move the stacks of clothing to the kids' rooms to be put away. 

Oddly enough, no one ran out of clothing.  The kids found things to wear that hadn't seen the light of day for so long I'd forgotten they had them.  No doubt, they forgot they had those items, too.  Except for running out of socks, my spouse didn't seem to notice I was holding his white t-shirts hostage along with a few other things. 

It must be that laundry is done far too frequently at my house because we have too many clothes.  I wonder, if we had fewer things to wear, if we'd probably do laundry less often.

I know that sounds very contradictory, but I have no other explanation. 

I wonder, if people wore some garments more than once a week, if the amount of laundry done would decrease, overall.

I know some of you out there are cringing.  I can see it from here, on the other side of the computer screen.  Ewwww, you're thinking.  That's so gross.  Do you have any idea how many germs get on a person in one day?

Yes, I do.  I'm not suggesting we start re-wearing things that are obviously dirty or smelly from an honest day's work.  I'm thinking more along the lines of the "you only wore this to church and had it on for two hours, so go hang it back up" kind of things.  And if that pair of slacks you wore to your college class or to work aren't coffee-spattered and full of donut drippings, why not set them aside for later in the week?

Think of it as an energy-saving measure.  Less laundry, less detergent, less electricity and water use.

Still not sold?

Just come on over to my house, then, and you can do as much laundry as your heart desires. 

In the mean time, I'm thinking it's time someone else gets worked into the laundry rotation.  Having more than two people in the house know how to run the washer and dryer is certainly one way to lighten the loads, and there's no better time than the present to get that underway.