It Can Only Get Better, Howard Jones Told Me So.

This morning started out OK.  Woke the boy, made his lunch, talked to him while he ate his breakfast.  I realized just as he was about to leave the house that he had a doctor appointment at 8:50am and he could have slept in.  Ooops.  He complained and said - get this - that he WANTED to go to school.  Ugh.  Seriously?  OK, let me think.  I sent him to school and told him I would pick him up at 8:40a.  Bye mom.  Bye son.  Wait, did I say 8:40am?  Crap!  That’s precisely the time my daughters catch their bus.  OK, let me think.  Maybe, for the first time ever, the girls (9 and 6) could walk to the bus stop by themselves?  I would have to leave the house at 8:25a, they would be at home alone for 15 minutes.  Run this by husband for a sanity check.  All systems GO.  Got the girls up early so I could make sure they knew exactly what was going on, where they had to be when, and to make sure all of their gear was together before I left.

What could possibly go wrong?

I had just gotten to the doctor’s office with the boy when my cell phone rang.  Unfamiliar number.  Stomach lurches.  It was Carson.  Crying.  On the cell phone of the father of the other boy at our bus stop.  Lainey had fallen and had a bloody nose.  I told her to take Lainey home, put her on the couch and give her some tissues for her nose, I’ll be home in 30 minutes.  Then the dad got on the phone and said he had cleaned Lainey up and the bus was here and she wanted to go to school.  OK, let me think.  Tell her to get on the bus but go see the nurse as soon as she got to school.

I called the school to give them a head’s up and asked the nurse to call me after she looked at my daughter’s face.  And to please check her teeth! (parents always freak about teeth)

Ran to the Mall to return the boots I bought yesterday that I HATED the minute I got them home.

Next call was from the nurse.  Lainey was alright, a little banged up and was hanging in the nurse’s office for observation for a few minutes with an ice pack.  But Carson was very upset so the  nurse had her talking to the Guidance Counselor.

Next call was from the Guidance Counselor.  Carson was fine but is a very sensitive child (What???) and was very upset about her sister.  She felt as the older sibling she had messed up her obligation to take care of her little sister.  I called Carson’s teacher who put Carson on the phone.  I told her it could have happened even if I had been there and not to worry about it.

Next call was from the nurse.  Again.  Lainey was in pain and her temp was 99.3.  She wanted to come home.  Told the nurse I was getting my son’s prescription and would be there in 30 minutes.

My therapist told me that I had to give my children responsibilities if I wanted them to grow up and be responsible people.  Next time I will just have them clean their rooms.

The Not-So-Obvious Reasons We Should Be Thankful This Year

My daughters were asked to read from a Thank You book before Thanksgiving dinner this year.  I thought the words they read were well worth repeating.

Thank you for:

...a lawn that needs mowing, windows that need cleaning and gutters that need fixing because it means that I have a home.

...taxes that I pay because it means I have a job.

...the mess to clean after a party because it means I have been surrounded by friends.

...my huge heating bill because it means I'm warm.

...the lady behind me in church who sings off key because it means I can hear.

...my shadow who watches me work because it means I am out in the sunshine.

...the alarm that goes off in the early morning hours because it means that I'm alive.

...weariness and aching muscles at the end of the day because it means I have been productive.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Do as I Say, Not as I Did (and had a REALLY good time doing!)

There are certain questions that every parent dreads.  The first one is usually "Where do babies come from?"  Now that I have a teenage son, that question seems like a piece of cake, a walk in the park, a big softball right across the plate.  The questions I have been asked recently are the most difficult I have ever had to contemplate answering:  When did you lose your virginity?  Have you ever tried drugs? Do you regret anything you did when you were a teenager?

*blink blink*

I feel there are three basic ways to answer these types of questions, and all three start with a generous helping of Xanax:

1.  Lying - I'm not going to judge anyone who goes with this strategy, but I would like to look back and know that I never told any (really big) lies to my kids. Also, I did not want a lack of ever doing anything to be used against me, as in "You can't tell me (drugs, premarital sex, skipping school) is a bad decision because you never even tried it!"

2.  Total Honesty - Puh-lease!  "Well son, remember the movies "Fast Time At Ridgemont High" and "Dazed and Confused"?  That was mommy. Except they left all the really good parts out of the movies."  And, just like with Lying, I didn't want my past to be used as justification, as in  "Well, you snuck out of your bedroom window and went to Georgetown with your friends and drank while you were underage and went to strange parties with strange people and ended up in strange and dangerous situations and experimented with stuff and things, and you turned out ok!" (BTW, if he thinks I'm ok, he should sit in on one of my therapy appointments)

3.  It's None Of Your Damn Beeswax - This is the route I've decided to take so far.  I've told him how I feel about drugs, sex and drinking and told him he needs to make his own choices and deal with the consequences of those choices.  (Unless he's really clever like his mother and doesn't get caught.)

One of these days I might tell him the truth about some of my misadventures.  But only when he has a teenager - and a therapist - of his own.

If Life Imitates Art, then what kind of life am I living???

I know that I can't keep every single piece of artwork that my kids create.  I have three kids and only so much storage space.   But there are certain pieces that scream "Save me!  I will make you smile some day!"  Like this picture my daughter did in first grade...it is a picture of her teacher, Mr. B, and herself walking into a sunset.  Adorable, right?

Then there are the pictures that you want to save for entirely different reasons.  Also from first grade, this picture screams "Save me!  I will be evidence one day!  And by the way, I'd lock your bedroom door at night if I were you!"

Everyone Lies

It's true.  Little white lies, big obvious lies, lies of omission...we all do it or have done it.  Some are good liars, some not so much.  I'm not advocating it, but it is what it is.  Human nature.

I was an excellent liar when I was a teenager.  I think my high school friends (who better be following this blog by now) would agree - I was a quick and skillful liar and rarely got caught.  (My husband was disturbed to hear this when we met.  I promised him I would never lie to him and I have kept my word.  Or have I?  Muahahaha!)

I have come to realize that the apple has fallen far from the tree when it comes to my 16yr old son.  I should probably be grateful for that, or maybe just chalk it up to kids being brain damaged until they are well into their twenties.

Anecdotal evidence:  Today is a half day for the local high schools as the kids are taking PSATs.  I texted my son this morning and asked him to please call or text me as soon as he gets out of school and let me know what his plans were.  I didn't hear from him so around 1pm I called him.  Here's how the conversation went:

Me:  Hey boy.  What time did you get out of school?

Him:  Around 11am.

Me:  Why didn't you text me.  I sent you a message this morning asking you to text me right after school.

Him:  Really?  I never got your message.  Plus, I told you last night what I was doing after school.

Me:  **silence for several seconds**

Him:  (laughing) Oh. Umm.  I just forgot to text you.  Sorry.

Brain damaged or stupid?  You be the judge.

The Magic (and the Madness) of the Holidays

 I like to think of myself as a thoughtful gift-giver.  I try to get inside the recipient's head and give them something they don't even know they want until they get it.  Ask my husband about the framed sketch of John Lennon I gave him several years ago - he still doesn't know he wants it. 

Last year, I was particularly on top of my game.  I got in on the Zhu Zhu Pets craze before anyone knew what they were.  I bought these little mechanical hamsters on Amazon for almost three times what they were selling for IF you could find them in the stores during the holiday season.  My girls went nuts when they opened them.  Of course, Santa got all the credit.  Of course, 2 weeks later they were so over the Zhu Zhu Pets. But Christmas morning was friggin' magic.

I can't understand why this is not placed in a prominent position in our home...

What a RUSH!

Admittedly, cheesiest blog title ever.  But it's appropriate given that my husband and I went to see Rush at Jiffy Lube Live Pavilion ("The Lube") on Saturday night.  We have both been Rush fans since our teens and we lucked into tickets at the last minute...it was very cool to be able to experience this gigantic nerd-fest with my special man.

I saw Rush 2 or 3 times in high school (foggy memory - I blame the 2nd hand pot smoke in the Cap Center) and each time I left the show feeling like I was the ultimate in cool.  I proudly wore my concert t-shirt to school the next day, positive that everyone who saw me in the halls was jealous to extremes.  The girls wanted to be me, and the guys wanted to be with me...they were all just way too shy to make a move.  Yeah, that's it.

But I had a sneaking suspicion that I had been mistaken when I took my son (then 13) to the Snakes and Arrows tour 2 years ago.  The man seated next to us was an uber-Rush fan.  He played every note of every song on air-guitar/bass/drum with amazing accuracy.  Not that geeky.  I have been known to play a couple of air instruments myself - mostly triangle and accordian - but I digress.  What made this guy stand out was that he had hand motions for several of the songs.  No, he was not signing for the benefit of any blind people in our section.  He was playing "Rush Lyric Charades". 

My husband calls Rush "The Dungeons and Dragons of Rock".  Charades Guy is a prime example.  So was the 15 year old boy sitting behind us last night.  I was an ear-witness to his tirade about the price of his Pepsi, and how it was cutting into his tutoring money and he wasn't going to get another $15 for tutoring until next week! (he sounded remarkably like Napoleon Dynamite...flippin' idiot.) 

I did not buy a t-shirt last night, but I still feel cool. I'm not like those other fans...and that's how I choose to remember it.

Signing off from Eberron,
Dungeon Master Lisa

KISS Me, I'm Aging

Last night my husband and I took our daughters, 6 & 9, to see (the aging band) KISS at Jiffy Lube Live (what kind of name is "Jiffy Lube Live" for a venue?  DC area residents remember the Capital Centre - we called it the "Cap Centre".  What am I supposed to call this new place - "The Lube"?  Inappropriate!)

It was a special night for us.  In 1977 my husband saw his first concert and it was KISS.  Last night was our daughters' first concert as well.  It felt like a circle being completed.  It was a very heartwarming and sweet experience - how could we not be moved by our girls faces as Gene Simmons spit fire and spewed blood?

As wonderful and family-oriented as the evening was, I was disturbed to notice that I have entered a new phase in my life. It's "The only people who flirt with you are old or drunk" phase.  (My handsome husband seems to be stuck in the "Cute waitresses and concierges at your hotel" phase.  I don't begrudge him that.)

I first noticed that I had entered this new phase as I exited our row and had to walk by three older (and drunk - two treats in one!) gentlemen who did not stand to let me by.  So I had to decide whether to scootch by these men with my tush or my crotch in their faces.  I chose crotch and immediately regretted it because in this position I could see their faces as I passed - they grinned up at me.  Ew.  (I believe it is technically called "leering" as opposed to "flirting" when you become their age.)  When I returned from the concession stand I slid down the aisle with my rear end towards them, but I didn't feel any better about it.  It was truly a lose-lose situation, for me anyway.

On a positive note, if Gene or Paul got drunk I'm positive I could get backstage.

Quit jerking my chain

I couldn't sleep last night.  Around 1030p I took a sleep aid which I'm pretty sure contained caffeine, and that made for a long night indeed.  As I lay in bed, I reflected on my summer vacations, one of which was to Ocean City MD - home of the Jerky Outlet.  Or at least it was until recently.  The Jerky Outlet is gone.

The "outlet"....where we can buy last season's lime green snakeskin pumps or a pair of  Levi's with the left leg a bit longer than the right.- at a reduced price.  But strips of dried MEAT?  What kind of person buys slightly irregular beef?  There are two things I would never buy at an outlet:  food of any kind and medication.  "I don't know how I got pregnant, honey...I bought my pills from the Birth Control Outlet and have been taking them (slightly ir-)regularly!"

 Can't tell if I am knocked up or have food poisoning....maybe I'm just tired.

Blog Virgin = Blirgin?

I've never done this before (she said shyly)...

So I'm winging it here, folks. Since I have no idea how to start this, I'm going to go "stream of consciousness" on you for a bit.

I am your typical suburban hausfrau.  3 kids, 2 cats, 1 minivan, 1 husband.

I prefer to speak in movie lines and work them into conversations whenever possible.

I met my husband in the Washington Post Classifieds 11 yrs ago.  My best friend said “He sounds weird.”  I said “Yeah, but I’m weird.”  She said “But you’re not weird like that”.  Happily ever after……

I am deathly afraid of sharks.

I am not a superstitious person, but whenever I pass the Mormon Temple on 495 I have to say "Get back, JoJo" or I feel the rest of day will go badly.

I leave the tops off of things....sometimes on purpose.

I have my late dog's ashes on the top shelf in my closet.  I miss her.

I have all the baby teeth that my kids have lost so far (except for the one my son swallowed)

I love, LOVE 80s hair bands.

I like formulaic cop shows.  It makes me feel comfortable to know who did it and that the bad guy will be caught within the hour.

I enjoy ironing.  It's relaxing.  I detest and am not good at all other housework

I sometimes turn the bezel on my husband's watch one or two clicks because I know it bothers him if it's not straight up at 12

I have always wanted to write a book, have had several good ideas but am SO uninterested in writing it all down.

I went blonde for one summer, just to see what the big deal was.  Meh.

I was propositioned by Robert Scorpio in a bar in Georgetown circa 1987.  He was loaded and tried to get me to "take a walk" with him.  I declined.  He left and passed out on the sidewalk in front of the bar.

I can't stand being barefoot.  Ew ew EW!

I do not like the phrase “fresh vegetables”.  Don’t know why, but it creeps me out.

I like cheesy 80s movies…Better Off Dead, Spaceballs, One Crazy Summer, Remo Williams, Big Trouble In Little China, etc

I take pictures of my kids when they sleep.  My son calls me a stalker.

When my husband and I were first dating he asked me to get his mail while he was away on a business trip - I went through his stuff.  I sat on the floor of his basement for an hour going through boxes of pictures and misc things.  I told him about it afterward....I'm a snoop, not a liar.

I will try just about any skin care product that comes on the market.  I am the woman who the marketing guys target.  If they call it a “serum” I am twice as likely to buy it.

I was born to be the front man in a rock group (think David Lee Roth), however I was cursed with a bad singing voice (think Yoko Ono).  My wonderful husband  hooks up a mic for me in his music room and will play Journey, VanHalen,  Nazareth on the guitar for hours while I indulge my alter ego.  (I apologize to all the dogs in the neighborhood)

Sometimes I buy new clothes for my kids because I get tired of looking at the old ones.

I was robbed in Spain and spent two days and nights alone in a hotel, eating Burger King for breakfast/lunch/dinner until the American Embassy opened on Monday morning and I could get a new passport.

Each of my children is my favorite, depending on the time of day.

I sometimes engage people in conversation just because I can tell they’re trying to blow me off.

I hope you will check out the Tip Of My Tongue again. (That sounds naughtier than I intended)