Mama's Musings

You gonna change the world, Mama

We have officially entered the tween years, those bittersweet days of little girl turned fire-breathing something or other turned little girl again. Just as you think you are about to hang her by her toes, my daughter does or says something that leads to redemption every time. And when I catch her at the right moment, there's downright love in her eyes.

This morning I awoke to the furious rantings of a ten-year-old whose father wasn't listening. In our adult way, we like to admonish, instruct and guide our young-uns towards, well, what we want them to do. Never mind we don't always do it ourselves.

No, you can't watch TV. Honey, where' the remote?

Because I said so. Now don't do what I'm about to do cuz, uh, it's not allowed.

I want you to come down here. Right. This. Minute. (Then we wonder when they use the same tone right back at us).

Sigh. So in my melodramatic half-sleep state (waving goodbye to the little REM I had acquired in a virtually sleepless night), I stomped down the stairs and into the corner where my daughter cowered with a blend of defiance and fright.

We battled in a weirdish Mom-not-awake way, then said goodbye in softer tones. By the time she had gotten home from school again, I knew she had taken a detour (again. And not allowed) via her old schoolhouse where her fourth grade teacher always listens to my daughter's concerns about getting a bad grade on her test.

She came home dragging her feet and announcing she had gotten a C- in biology. I ignored her for a moment, allowing her to hear herself before jumping in. Then I calmly asked her if she wanted salad. She appeared relieved that I wasn't addressing what she just had. I helped her print out a few pictures of cells for her science poster, then let her type up her text on her computer, something she loves to do.

"You know what, Mama," my daughter said in a wise-like (and not at all wise-a$$) tone. "Your new book** is gonna change the world. All those people are gonna step back and take a moment to actually think before they destroy the planet and themselves. I mean it. It's cool." Then she trounced off the hang up the wash without a single vitriolic huff, leaving me with my mouth agape at the transformation, and the trust, my daughter just displayed.

**Book events calendar here.

Breaking the honor code

My son turned eight last week. The only thing he wanted, besides a remote control car, was a new bike. After eight years of hand-me-downs from Big Sis, we agreed. It was time to give the kid what he deserved.

Today we went to the bike shop to try out a few models. My son (and the sales lady) pressured me so much that I broke down and bought 'the silver one' on the spot to the accompaniment of Big Sis' tisking and huffing.

"21 gears? The thing has 21 gears?" She crossed her arms and dropped her lip dangerously close to the ground. As we waited for the new bike to be checked over, she revealed her dismay.

"You have wounded my honor," she said solemnly, placing her hand upon her heart. Earlier this morning in the shoe store, she complained that Little Brother was getting an extra set of shoes and why on Earth were we not getting her the boots she doesn't really need but reallyreallyreally wants?

I began listing all the things we had given her in the past three weeks: hundreds of dollars worth of new clothing, new shoes, a horse to ride for free, a trip to the United States (and, serendipitously, even a direct flight back on her favorite airline)! She is ten, and she has a favorite airline. Need I say more?

Standing at the bike shop, I shot her a look of warning.

"You want me to list again? Don't make me list, young lady!"

She cowered, then softened when we got home. They got to watch Spirit, one of their all-time favorite movies. Now, if only she would see the spirit in which her parents handle things. That would be most honorable!

Isn't it ironic?

Why didn't my mama tell me that life's little ironies are what it's all about? Such as the fact that I got a call from my casting agency offering me a role in a movie called Email to Happiness (wasn't I just trying to unplug - I mean full out, not gonna be hanging on the Internet all summer, type offline groove - and now I'm playing in a movie about emailing to happiness or the pursuit thereof?). Or that my son's alleged water gun wasn't working, until we switched, and suddenly he sprayed me square between the eyes?

Alanis Morissette's little ditty, Ironic, reminds us all that we sometimes miss the bus. The irony is there is something better in store (such as a stretch limo replete with champagne and a cozy dinner for two?).

Yes, I think so.

Stressed spelled backwards

My sister sent me this ~the author is not known, but the message certainly is!

 

Can't eat pork,

Swine flu...

Can't eat chicken,

Bird flu.

Can't eat Beef,

Mad cow....

Can't eat eggs,

Salmonella.

Can't eat fish,

 heavy metal poisons in their waters.

Can't eat fruits and veggies,

insecticides and herbicides.

Hmmmmmmmmm!!!!!!!!!!!!!

M

M

M

M

M

M

M

M

M

M

M

I believe that leaves Chocolate and ice cream!!!!!!!!

Remember - - - 'STRESSED'

spelled backwards! is

'DESSERTS'

Love What Is

Byron Katie says love what is. Eckhardt Tolle (A New Earth) says love the NOW, it's all there is. Jesus says "turn the other cheek." Oprah says live your best life. But I ask myself: Do/did any of these people have children?

During a rather tumultuous afternoon with my prepubescent daughter and trotting-close-to-her-heels (in attitude) son, I wondered what was lovable about two children screeching at me for no apparent reason.

"I want to play soccer," is my seven-year-old son's standard line. Perhaps in fifteen years, when he's playing the Big Leagues, I will smile back to these moments of pure torture that two hours on the field plus another twenty-five minutes in the house batting the ball around simply weren't enough. Or my near ten-year-old daughter tossing a stinging remark about how I never wait for her but how she has to wait for me as I stand panting at the top of the hill with my bike waiting for them all to catch up.

Not really loving what is right now. But, as Eckhardt so lovingly says, This too shall pass. Or was it Jesus?

Big Mamas on the Town

My mom arrived at the hotel a few hours ago. We're going to rock it out tonight. We are celebrating her birthday and mine.

Life as a Big Mama on the town is good! I met Joel Osteen at an event the other night. We're going to see him speak at Yankee Stadium. Weather report? 80 degrees.

Yes, life is indeed good!

5 Random Things about the Universe

So five random things happened in the past twenty-four hours that tell me the Universe has something planned. You know the feeling? You might spend years thinking you're an aimless wanderer on the planet, and then, boom. You get an insight, or in my case, five, that amaze you, Universe-style.

Random Thing #1: The distribution center for my big-time-how-do-you-do New York publisher is located less than a mile from my house in Gordonsville, VA.

Random Thing #2: The very delivery guy who picked up my hand-edited manuscript crossed my path today in Munich at virtually the very same place I met him almost a month ago to send it off.

Random Thing #3: My Munich client was planning on attending a book-signing in California next week. The California author she wants to see happens to be my new client. My Munich client had no idea.

Random Thing #4: My new client introduced me to 'someone in Germany' who does book tour events. He is located miles from my house here.

Random Thing #5: The set next to the place where we were filming a cop show today got blown up. They needed to hire new talent and killed off a bunch of characters in one ka-boom.

Universe - I'm listening.

Honest to pete.

Easter Break - Week 2

We're well into Week 2 of the kids' Easter holiday break and I have to say I'm sad it's going to be over soon. My kids have enjoyed the a-ma-zing weather and lack of schedule. We've woken up every morning and asked ourselves "What shall we do today?"

Jackson is writing song lyrics. Sophia is playing with a friend who dropped by out of the blue. Pizza is in the oven, and life is easy.

Ah, would that it were more often this way! 

That'll be Italian ice cream, please

Sunshine warms not only the face, but also the heart. The kids and I were so motivated by the sun's rays yesterday that we bought terrace plants, short-sleeved shirts, and an ice cream cone to celebrate.

As we rolled down the escalator of the department store with shopping bag in hand, the kids spotted an ice cream cart in the store. I suggested we get some there.

"Oh no!" they shouted in concert. "We don't want just any old ice cream. We want Italian ice cream!"

Since when did their lives get this good? Living near Italy has its benefits. We found the next Italian ice cream cart just paces away. Lucky for them! And they were right. It does taste better than most!

Snark Attack - Home Alone

My kids are at that age where they have started to like being home alone. To a certain extent. Mom has to run an errand? Without me! Dad's gone until 5 pm? Perfect. We've been able to get away to the theater on a Friday night once -- at the kids' request.

"You go have a good time. We're going to have fun kid time!" It was a win-win and bowled us over til Sunday.

I am actually quite confident my kids can handle a certain amount of home alone time. They know how to reach me or their father in case of emergency, we have plenty of neighbors who could lend a helping hand in immediate situations, and there comes a time when getting a babysitter to attend a parent-teacher meeting seems counterintuitive.

But when it comes to having friends over when we are not here or, for that matter, going to an unsupervised household at a friend's place, I remain firm. I let my daughter go to a friend's house without adult supervision for an hour before the mother came home once. It went fine, but that's because her younger brother (read: hyper-energetic bundle of boyness) wasn't there.

So when my daughter got invited to that same girl's house with the promise that her father would get home two hours after they did and the likelihood that the brother would be there, too, I asked to speak to an adult in the house. The mother got on the phone, not promising me her husband really would be home on time. "Who knows when he'll really arrive. He said 3 pm..." That's when I backpedaled. I explained I didn't think my daughter was up for it. She started to question every word I said until I cut off the conversation by saying "This is the third interruption in the last ten minutes. First, the chimney sweeper. Then a neighbor. Now this. I have to cook. Bah-bye now..." and I hung up the phone. I felt awful, but the woman just couldn't hear anything other than what she wanted to hear -- that her own kids wouldn't be alone all afternoon.

I talked to my kids about it. They agreed it felt strange to be in a situation that didn't feel safe. What truly matters is what my kids feel and think. The rest of the world can go jump in the lagoon!