Cha-cha, anyone?

What a trip! I attended our school's annual gift auction over the weekend. Besides eating ourselves into a stupor and having an absolute blast -- we were laughing so hard at our table it almost hurt at one point -- I came away with a prize. Ballroom dancing lessons. At two different places.
Fortunately for my husband, his toes will be spared. He's got ankle problems that make taking things like dancing lessons a bad idea. So it's either my Dad or my friend Dianne. Dianne said she'd be happy to join me at at least one of the dancing schools. We'll just have to fight over who has to lead. I didn't run it by my Dad yet. He'll probably laugh at me.
I'm actually very excited about this -- hey, I DID put tickets into the bucket to try and win it, right? My aunt is big into ballroom dancing. I plan to surprise her with my new skills, um, if I don't break anybody else's feet.
I am still willing, however, to trade with my table mates. Erika and Ted won a nice patio set. If they feel the sudden need to know how to rumba, I'm willing to trade. And if Marie and Keith want to give up the family portrait session they won, well, I'll cheer them on if they want to take up the cha-cha.
Just let me know, OK guys?

I'll miss the little speechisms

When the thunder and lightning hit overnight and the rain kicked up, our 3-year-old came climbing into bed, snuggling in between us saying, "I'm scawed." His "r" still comes out as "w."
He had a bit of a speech delay, but has rapidly caught up thanks to some wonderful teachers. I have to admit ... I'm not one of them. Now that he's reaching his speech level, I'm soon going to hear him correct his mispronounced words and letters, and it's almost kinda sad. He's out of babyhood, and he's my last.
I relish the little speechisms they have. My younger daughter called cars "Bye-byes" and always said "Mines" when referring to possession of plural items ("Whose shoes are those on the stairs?" "Mines!"). Others would correct the latter. I do, at times, but I just melt at their little words. I'll miss them.

What's a parent to do?

Did you read about the sexual assault of a 7-year-old boy in an East Brunswick department store men's room? Seems the boy was shopping with his mother, went unaccompanied into the men's room and was assaulted by a 28-year-old guy in there. How sickening!
When we go out as a family, I take the girls to the ladies' room, my husband takes the boy to the men's room, but there have been times when I've had to wait outside while my oldest was in the men's room and my husband wasn't out with us. After they hit a certain age, boys aren't comfortable going into the ladies' room, and with the presence of urinals, who wants to take a daughter into the men's room if the mom's not around? With more single-parent or divorced households, this type of danger increases if other options aren't provided.
At a few malls and arenas, I've seen "family" restrooms. They are usually just a single stalled facility where the parents can go in, but the child gets that bit of privacy.

Kids in the middle

You've got to feel bad for the kids in the middle of messy divorces. Look at former Gov. McGreevey's daughter. She's young now, but think about what she'll be able to pull up on Google and YouTube when she gets older. And Alec Baldwin's daughter's cell phone message from her dad -- where he complains about her mother and calls his 11-year-old a little pig -- is splattered all over the 'Net. Nice.

Is that call so important?

I've got a cell phone. I've also got a hands-free contraption that I hook it up to if I want to talk while I'm driving. It's not just that it's the law, it's a heckuva lot less frustrating/distracting/dangerous. When the phone rings and I don't have it handy, I'll tell the other person I can't talk now, I'm driving, and put the phone back down.
I'm not perfect, though, and have used it without the "button" in my ear. For those, I've discovered the speaker phone option. But I don't like it.
Now, this morning, I went for a long walk before my husband had to leave for work. Two school buses passed me by, and I noticed that both drivers were busily yakking on their cell phones. One was driving with one hand on the wheel, one hand with the phone to the ear. The second driver had the phone tucked between shoulder and ear -- an awkward and uncomfortable position even when you're not driving. That driver had one hand on the wheel, but was gesturing with the other, apparently as part of the conversation.
These are school bus drivers. Driver Number One had kids on board. I didn't see any in Driver Number Two's bus, but I don't know how that one managed to keep control of the bus with a shoulder shoved up to the ear -- that was the arm connected to the steering wheel -- while waving the other arm in the air to accent whatever point the driver was making to the person on the other end of the conversation.
Only one of my children takes a bus to school. But I hope that driver isn't on the phone with a busload of teens and early morning commuter traffic to contend with.

Were the parents notified?

One of the things that bother me most about the Virginia Tech murders is that pretty much anyone who had any contact with the shooter over the last year and a half or so knew there were problems. Did his family know? Were they told?
One school administrator who tutored him after he got kicked out of a class actually had a code word for the times when she was working with him, that if she said it, her secretary knew that meant that she should call security. She said he wore sunglasses and a hat pulled down, and often appeared to be crying during their sessions.
I'm sure people reached out to him and were rebuffed. He refused to speak to people or answer questions. I'm sure he did the same if anyone asked if anything was wrong or if there was anything they could do to help him.
But did anyone reach out to his family? Privacy, schmivacy. If someone appears that menacing or disturbed, his parents should have been contacted. Those closest to the problem often don't see it. Or he may have had a completely different demeanor when among those people he is most comfortable with.
Cho's attitudes and actions went far beyond college angst. One teacher said she suspected he was the shooter before she heard details, and other students said they had conversations about him in the past, actually wondering if he was capable of becoming a school shooter.
If the parents were contacted, or even if they weren't, why couldn't the school administration say to him -- after several complaints already -- "Look, we're very concerned about your well-being. If you want to remain a student here, we're going to require that you get into an intensive counseling program, and that you make a serious effort in that." The resources are there; can't colleges force problem students -- those who are this extreme -- into psychiatric counseling?

So heartbreaking

I heard something on the news this morning that stuck with - and haunted - me all day. Someone from Virginia Tech was describing what it was like there on Monday, and said the eeriest thing was when cell phones started ringing on the bodies of those students who were killed.
How horrifying. Your first inclination is going to be to call to see if your child is OK. Those poor parents. I can't imagine the slowly building horror as your child doesn't pick up.
I pray that they get through this.

STOP CALLING ME!!!!!!

I should have known better. Taking my girls to a "Disney On Ice" show in Trenton earlier this year, I filled out one of those contest forms to win a car. What I "won" was a series of telephone calls from a travel company trying to get me to come to Princeton for some sales pitch, promising me a trip to Florida if I sat through it.
I've been hit many times to go to Princeton, Atlantic City, wherever, where they promise to give you a computer, vacation, whatever, if you just sit through a sales pitch for 90 minutes. Has anyone done this and walked away with the "prize" without falling prey to the pitch? I've been tempted to see what happens, but who has the time?
In this instance, the first time they invited me I told them I couldn't go. They must've skipped the part where they then delete my name and number. A week later they started calling me back. "You're still in the contest for the car, but you'll be excited to know that you did win a three-day, two night trip to ..." but only if you sit through a 90-minute presentation on whatever. After having several messages left on my machine, I answered again and told her that taking a trip to Princeton or a sales pitch wasn't in the cards. She tried again, telling me I was going to get a free trip. OK, I'll bite. "For how many?" I asked. "I'm married with four kids." "Oh, your husband will have to come (to the presentation) too." "So then how many of us get to go to Florida?" "Two," she answered. I declined their "invitation," and told her to stop calling me.
One other time, I had a sales pitch invitation that I was attempting to politely decline, and the woman pushed and pushed, so I started asking her more and more questions, including what I would be required to bring to this "Presentation." ID and a credit card. Why, when I had absolutely no intention of buying anything? I started pushing back, telling her there was no way I was going to buy a time-share condo or anything else they were selling, and after my high-pressure push back, she said, "You know, you can't get something for nothing."
Exactly.

No rainy day blues here

OK, every now and then, there's nothing like the rain. I took off on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday last week. When you're a working mom, you really need a full week off to actually fit any relaxation in there. I spent the first three days doing a spring cleaning. Saturday, I let my teen have a bunch of friends over for a movie night -- so that involved shopping for groceries, movies, popcorn, readying the TV room, hitting church Saturday night in case Sunday was as nasty as expected, overseeing the party and making sure everybody got in a car with a parent afterward, then staying up until well past 2 a.m. telling the three who were sleeping over to be quiet, and that emptying two cans of Axe body spray at 2:15 was unacceptable (and that at those amounts, they'll make girls swoon, but not in the way they'd hoped -- nasty!), then airing out the house, then finally falling asleep somewhere about 3ish. So Sunday, after getting the younger kids to Sunday School (which wasn't cancelled) I was more than appreciative of the lousy weather. If it had been nice, I know we would've been tempted to take off and do something.
I wouldn't wish for a Nor'easter, but I do appreciate a good rainy day, especially when the house is clean, the pantry is stocked (got to take time to plan and cook Sunday and Monday dinners), the kids are tired from the day (and night) before, and there's something to watch on TV. When you never sit still, that forced day inside is great.

The birthday blues

My 7-year-old was telling me of a classmate's birthday coming up soon, and said, "Do you think I'll be invited to her party?" I couldn't say. With 50-plus kids in each grade, what's a parent to do? And though you ache for your children when they don't make the cut, you can't really fault the parents. My 9-year-old shed some tears at not being invited to a party over the winter, but she really doesn't hang out with the birthday girl, and people can only fit so many kids in their house, or if they're having it out, they can only afford (or are only permitted) just so many kids, those parties get expensive! To cheer her up, I arranged for a playdate with an out-of-town friend right about the same time.
Summer birthday parties are easier -- nobody's talking about it in the classroom, and you can pretty much invite only their close friends. One of my daughters has a birthday in December, a few weeks before Christmas. One year, I invited everyone in her class (24 kids -- about 16 showed). The next year, I invited all the girls from both classes in her grade for a gymnastics party. About 18 attended. This year, she opted to have a sleepover. I limited it to 6 girls, plus another friend of hers from out of town, plus two little siblings of two of the girls, to have a mini sleepover upstairs with my younger daughter. Long night! I turned into the really mean mom at 2:30 a.m. and told them the next person to make noise was going to get dressed and I was taking them home.
I tried to impress upon my daughter that she shouldn't talk about it in school, since so few kids were coming, and we called them from home instead of sending invitations. It's tough, and you always feel like someone's been left out, but what can you do? After inviting entire classes of kids for the first few years, the sleepover thing worked well all through elementary school with my oldest. I limited it to five boys each year, and each year the group changed somewhat.
And each year, I went about an entire night without sleep, until I discovered that they'll believe you when you tell them you've got a baby monitor hidden in the room and you're listening to everything they say after 3 a.m.

Twenty questions

How strict are you? I'm pretty much told I'm uncool on a daily basis. It's a pattern I expect to be repeated over the next 14 years or so. But I've got a habit of playing "Twenty questions" before my oldest goes anywhere or does anything. Who with? Who's driving? (usually, that's me, though) What will you be doing? What time do you plan on coming home? What earlier-than-that time do you plan on coming home? Who's driving you back and do they know they're driving you? (That last one is in response to finding out one-too-many times that a lot more kids than expected were going to be in my car.)
Ever see the commercial where the kid pleads with his father to do something, saying "Everybody else gets to!" Then when the father holds his ground, the kid calls a friend and says, "Yeah, my dad didn't fall for it either." I imagine that's a pretty common scenario, and I ALWAYS hear that I'm more strict than anyone.
So I definitely appreciate it when another mom admits to being as strict as me. Our oldest wanted to sleep over at a new buddy's house, and although I've met the father once before, I went to the door with him a) to make sure a parent was home and b) to make sure the parent knew the boys made these plans. The mom was appreciative, saying she does the same thing.
It's great to be "validated" by someone who is just as uncool as I am.

ixnay on the unnybay!

My 3rd-grader has figured out who's going to put the eggs out on the lawn for Sunday morning's hunt. Trouble is, she assumes everybody else knows -- her two younger siblings don't. Or she forgets, and blurts out things like, "Remember when you hid my brother's basket in the dishwasher?"
"I didn't hide it," I correct her quickly. "Oh yeah, I mean when THE EASTER BUNNY hid his basket in the dishwasher!" Fortunately, the other two weren't really listening.
It's a bit of relief, but also kind of a bummer when they discover certain realities. You just can't get that back.

Party prevention

My last post led to a discussion about teen partying, and how to make sure kids don't consume any alcohol in your home if you hold a party. A good suggestion was made: Watch kids coming in with vodka-filled water bottles.
Fortunately this time, it looks like I escaped hosting a teen party. The teen lost interest when he realized it couldn't be enormous.
I remember as a teen, people's parents would go away for a weekend, leaving the teens under guard of older siblings. The older kids would go out, and the teenagers would throw parties. I thought my parents were "uncool." There was NOOOO WAAAAY that was going to happen at our house. My parents wouldn't leave us alone overnight until we were ALL over the legal drinking age. My aunt would always suddenly come down for a visit. Even when I was 18.
Smart move by my parents. My, how your perspective changes! I've already been told I'm basically uncool as well - in these words about when kids are allowed to do something that mine are not: "They're (other parents) not like you ... they don't care!"
I'll take that as a compliment.

I'll think about it

I've got two kinds of "promises" hanging over my head. Now I know why my mom's answer to everything was a frustrating "I'll think about it."
Promise No. 1 ... since we missed my daughter's friend's birthday party, I told my girls that maybe we could go to Libby Lou over Easter break and take her with us. My daughters started asking me every day, "When are we going? Can we go today? Can we go Saturday?" They've given up, after 5 days. Good thing. We won't be going for another week.
"Promise No. 2 -- that in fact is not a promise at all or even a commitment to anything, but try telling that to your kids. My teen asked if his friend's band could play on our back deck one afternoon for a bunch of friends. I told him we'd probably be railroaded out of the neighborhood, so, No. But I said maybe we'd look into seeing if they could play at a club we belong to. He took off to make a call to his friend -- this was last night, mind you -- and I chased him saying, "Wait, this is just a thought, I'm not agreeing to anything!" "OK," he said.
My first thought was we could rent the club for a reasonably small, extremely supervised birthday party and let the band play for an hour, tops. And I still wanted to think it out, much longer, before agreeing to it. But I underestimated how quickly a teen idea can run amok.
At 6 this morning, he told me they've worked it all out. They're going to have a Battle of the Bands at our club, with five high school bands, and they're going to charge $10 a head to get in, and that they'd already starting inviting "mad people." "Mad," being the new word for "a lot."
For one thing, this would in no way be allowed at this club. For another, there's no way I'm policing a teen party for "mad people." Now I'm a bad guy because I told him there's no way that's going to happen.
I'm using mom's line from here on out. Either, "I'll think about it," or a flat out "No."

Staying Internet savvy

Parents have to go beyond knowing how to point and click ... look at the arrests of the 28 people who flocked to a house in Ocean County thinking they were going to hook up with children for sex. As much as our kids get warned about the Internet and that people may not be who they say they are, they're still kids. We've got to keep reminding them. My teen said he and his girlfriend wanted to go to New York to meet a girl from Oklahoma that they met on the Internet. "Are you out of your mind?" was my response. "Of course, you'd go with us," he said.
Damn right. If we went at all, which isn't happening anyway. He's lost interest. But it reminded me that he's still vulnerable.
I'm going to show him the photos of the guys arrested in the operation with the appropriately named "Perverted Justice," and I'll point out that one of them very likely could have identified himself as a teenage girl from Oklahoma.