Punk Kids

If I ever had anything in common with teenagers, I no longer do. I started to come to this realization when Chris and I were in the movie theater a few weeks ago. A few minutes into the previews, two teenage girls plopped down right next to me and started whispering and texting. After a prolonged conversation, they decided their diets could tolerate some popcorn and so they asked me if I would save their seats while they visited the concessions stand.

"Ahh... Nope", I said, smiling politely. Why would I want to save the seats of two girls who were ruining my evening? I would rather take my chances with the next latecomer.

The girl stared at me dumbfounded, "No? Seriously? You won't save our seats?".

"No, seriously".

They didn't know how to respond, so they left without another word. We moved down a couple rows and from there on out enjoyed the movie.

Last week, I had another run in that made me realize that I could probably never make it as a high school teacher. At least not teaching the dumb kids.


A few friends and I decided to arrange a play date at a local park. As soon as I arrived, I noticed several teenagers (who were supposed to be in school at the time) playing on equipment intended for the preschool and grade school crowd. We tried to ignore them, but as soon as lunchtime began at the nearby high school, the crowd multiplied to dozens of teenagers, squeezing our small children out of the park. When they started smoking and talking at the tops of their voices about things that shouldn't even be mentioned in whispers, I knew that it was time to go.

I left feeling old. Had I really changed so much in a decade? After a bit of thinking, I realized that I hadn't changed. I never liked kids like that. I had always given them dirty looks and the occasional verbal reprimand - even when I was their age. I'm not old - just reasonable.

Now my greatest fear is sending my little girl out into a world where kids behave like that. Maybe when she turns 12, I'll order up some brochures for one of those bad kid boot camps. That way I'll have something to scare her with if she ever comes home with hoop earrings that touch her shoulders and a midriff bearing shirt.

A Wild Week

This week was very busy. On Monday we went to the zoo as sort of an early birthday present for Emily. She had a great time. We were so excited to show her the elephants and bears and lions she sees in her books, but all she has been able to talk about was the peacock. Maybe next time, we will just go to the pet store and tell her we're at the zoo. I'm sure she will be fascinated with the finches.






Wednesday my parents came to town and the two day birthday celebration extravaganza began. As you can see, we put Emily's safety first. Birthday injuries are the #12 cause of visits to emergency rooms so we made sure Emily wore her helmet the entire time.







Thursday was the birthday proper and I, being the lazy mom I am, decided we should just have a casual celebration with friends. And cake. Lots of cake. Emily didn't seem to mind at all that her birthday party didn't include a bouncy house or a visit from Cinderella. All a 2 year old really needs are good friends and good cake.

What is your name? What is your quest? What is your favorite color?

As both my blogfans know, I use my blog to keep in touch with friends and family. I have an unlisted blog because I want to use real names and post real pictures of my family, knowing that some Canadian child molester isn't tuning in.

That having been said, you can understand my concern when someone commented on my blog last week and left only a first name that wasn't connected to a profile. David, you know who you are, but I don't. I am pretty sure you are a friend, but I just want assurance that my address didn't end up on a website targeted at gay inmates. So, just to indulge me, could you maybe leave me another comment with some clue as to who you are so I can make sure you aren't commenting from prison?

Please feel free to share my blog address with anyone who might be interested, but do use discretion. I would like this to continue to be a safe place to update my friends and family on the happenings of my life.

What I Want for Mother's Day

I am fairly new to Mother's day, but so far my experience hasn't been great. Two years ago, I went into labor on Mother's day. Last Mother's Day, Emily had a mystery illness that involved a high fever and digestive difficulties. This year is shaping up to be no better. For the past two days, Emily has been stricken with the stomach flu and since I have spent almost that entire time cleaning up after all the stomach flu involves, I fear the hammer will drop on me soon. So, with that background information out of the way, here is what I really want for Mother's Day.

1) I want to be able to get Emily up in the morning without having to strip her down where she stands, rush her to the shower and throw the entire contents of her crib into a washing machine that contains almost as much bleach as it does water.

2) I want to go an entire day without being puked on.

3) I want to go an entire day without saying the word "puke".

4) I want to prepare a meal where all the food doesn't have to qualify as bland and binding.

5) I want all that which belongs in the diaper to cleave unto the diaper.

6) Lastly, I would like a new car that fits a stroller and groceries. Since every item on my list is totally unrealistic, I figured I might as well throw that one in.

Happy Mother's Day, everyone. And just in case you think motherhood is without its rewards, here is a picture of what I get to hang out with every day:

Now, I think that's worth all the puke clean up in the world.