Summer

As an adult, I still look forward to summer with the anticipation of FREEDOM that those months brought to me as a child. Not only did the responsibility of school fall away, but so did the need for boots, mittens, sweaters, umbrellas, heck, clothing in general.

We would get up in the morning, throw on a swimsuit, succumb to the dousing of "OFF" (I grew up in Minnesota) and head out on our bikes to dig melted tar out of the street, skateboard down the spiral freeway pedestrian ramps, and plan the dreaded "can my friend sleepover" ambush on our parent(s). Pushing around those fluid filled blisters on our shoulders on a drive back from the day at the lake in the scorching sun was unending entertainment.

Church camp on a leech-filled lake four hours outside the city was our idea of heaven. The kids ran free for a week while the parents drank themselves into a boozier state of "holier-than-thou". There was nothing better than passing the swimming test to get your ankle bracelet that allowed unquestioned access to the raft 100 yards out into the lake.

You all know where this is going....Now I am the parent, when in the hell did that happen? I am surprised every year by the massive amount of responsibility and reduction of free time that summer rains on me.

WTF? My new favorite month is September, and NOT because both my girls made their entrance into this world then, or because I got married in that month, big deal. Whatever the date school starts on the first Thursday after Labor Day is my ticket back to sanity, order, and bedtimes in the single digits. The anticipation of freedom that I used to feel as a child at the beginning of summer has now shifted to fall.

Now...all I have to do is make sure my kids never get a whiff of the added work, the explosion of mess and NEED that this wondrous time of year creates. I want them to remember me buzzed on the beach with my boring friends while they run free on their scooters and bikes and boogie boards. They don't need to know how much effort and time is needed to produce these carefree memories.

So far this summer we have traveled to Portugal and Spain, blown up our own illegal fireworks, culitvated zucchini, tomatoes and beans, made paper, hung out at Venice Beach, ridden mechanical bulls, created underwater videos in the pool, and there have been no trips to the ER. Still in the works are trips to see family in the Northwest and a week camping at the beach.

I'm gonna pat myself on the back for a great first five weeks and hope my children come away with some lasting memories of fun and freedom. I'll ask them twenty years from now just how great it was...

Trading addictions.

So I'm a facebook whore. I can't stay away. At first, the draw was reconnecting with all the people I friended and lost in my many moves. Then it was Scrabble. Now it's Mafia Wars.

I barely even update my status anymore because any feedback I get on that might take away precious time better spent banking my money, robbing unsuspecting landlords and attacking other mafias. I won't even go into the shopping sprees where I acquire my many tools of violence.

I figured out today that my kids are suffering. Jos is begging for an email and a facebook page so she can join in on my obsession. Oops. Madeline has created a menagerie of clay sculptures in colors of clay we don't own, she's been "clay mixing" and forming friends while perched directly in front of the TV for hours on end. Double oops.

So I decided that I will only hit the internet when they are at school or asleep. Needless to say, I managed to wash a few dishes today, return some shoes, clean the cat box, and still spend about three hours buried in my make-believe world of crime and, uh, more crime.

My only hope now is for someone to take a hit out on Don Kempsey and end this obsessive nonsense. Ooh, ooh, I'm gonna go check to see if I'm still alive.

The Secret Lives of Cats

I have not written about the cats lately. They are as different from each other as my children.

Lilly is fluffy, clean, long-haired. She has a massive tail and tiny little crossed eyes that make her look sweet and a bit worried.

Bongo has short, wiry fur and a tiny body for such a fierce warrior. He's a bundle of muscles and curiosity and dirt.

We have been in and out of town a lot lately. The cats are allowed outside, but when we are gone, I just lock them in.

When we return, both run outside immediately to roll around on the driveway, because that's way better than rolling around on the wood floor. Then they follow us around for a while to say "we missed you", then it's business as usual.

For Lilly, she sits near a bush and watches the bugs fly around.

Bongo will rush around looking for something to kill and when it's dead he brings it back for Lilly to play with.

I often imagine what they do for days on end when we are away. Maybe something like this...

Lilly: "Bongo, there's no use trying to get outside, why don't you follow my lead and take a bath or something?"

Bongo: "Quiet! I see a squirrel. If I paw at this glass hard enough I think I'll get out.

Lilly: "If you really want to do something productive, see if you can get that bag of treats open."

Bongo: "Treats! My treat is that BIRD right outside, aaaahhh, must get BIRD!

Lilly: "Bongo, where are you going now? That's the family room, you can't get out that way either and the food, water, and couch are over here...OH, not again! I've told you a million times, the only thing that happens when you climb up the inside of the fireplace is you get more filthy!"

Bongo: "OK, I'm at the top, I can smell the outside, but you're right, and I'm stuck again. Can you talk me down? I keep forgetting how to climb backwards."

Lilly; "I'll help you out of the chimney, but you HAVE to promise to bathe once I get you out."

Bongo: (Claws crossed) "OK, I'll do it, now get me down so I can look for another escape route."

Lilly: "It's been two days, could you spare a moment to get the soot off the underside of your feet and maybe clean your ass while you are at it?"

Bongo: "Stop complaining, I licked my tail for a while yesterday, jeez. LIZARD! Oh god, my life sucks. Where ARE my humans?"

...and so on.

Tis birthday season.

The gift suggestion list my husband gave me for shopping with the girls for his birthday.

Running shoes.
Collar stays.
White work shirts.

Good God. My husband needs a hobby.

Other than Facebook Scrabble.

Memorial Day weekend will be a welcome infusion of NATURE at the beach. No internet access, lots of sand and surf and beer and campfires.

Maybe I'll even start a game of Scrabble with a real board.

Random thoughts II

Back to the tabula rasa thing...how can I have one child who returns from school missing all the skin from her knees and elbows and no adult there is the wiser, while the other child has her own chair at the nurse's office and my cell is on speed dial?


I'm going to start dropping hints to my daughters about eloping when the time comes..


I recently learned that porcupines don't have quills on their bellies in order to more comfortably give other porcupines "a big hug" at certain times of the year. I think that will be my new code phrase to hubs...The flip side of that, if I stop shaving, then do I get the bed to myself?


I'm relentlessly spinning Amos Lee, if I don't stop soon I'm going to slip into a self induced depression. I need happy music suggestions. Eric Hutchinson is all I've got.

Why is there a dive meet on Mother's Day weekend?

Whew.

So the wedding we attended last weekend went off without a hitch.

Looking back, I realize I was witness to a study in courage.

There was a multitude of children present. Every single one of them dressed to a tee. Tuxedos, ties, tights and heels abounded. For many, it was their first time in clothes somewhat less comfortable than pajamas. I didn't hear one peep of complaint. After a decade of parenthood, I claim the right to call that behavior surprisingly mature, if not brave. Especially when I had my heels off as soon as we hit the cocktail area.

I watched the bride's father hand off his beautiful young daughter to the groom without losing it. Even after several beers. Go Dave!

And last, but not least, I listened to high school sweethearts speak idyllic words of undying love, commitment and eternity. Their vows were taken in front of an audience filled with parents, step-parents, half-siblings, significant others of grandparents, and who knows who else in our culture of blended families built on failed relationships. Now that took some big brass ones.

I did the same thing almost two decades ago. My husband and I were the same age and my step-family filled half the church. We knew the odds were stacked against us. Through our moves and jobs and children, we have forged ahead.

Life isn't like those fairy tale words spoken at the altar, but if Jenny and Caleb stay true to the team they were on their wedding day, they'll do just fine.

Formal Wear

How to shop for wedding dresses for your beach-bum-comfort-addicted-accessory-challenged-school-uniform-wearing tween daughters.

1. Slug back a few drinks. Your husband can drive, he's coming along because he is incapable of spending time alone.

2. Hit the children's sections at Ross, TJ Maxx and Marshalls one week after Easter and hope for a clearance bonanza on badly made, highly flammable, pastel explosions of "unique" fabrics and cuts.

3. Watch your daughter's faces go ashen at the selection. Internally relive countless horrible "you have to wear this" moments from your own childhood.

4. Find one perfect match for the child who cares the least about what's on her body. Start praying to the dress gods that you will not have to commission a one-of-a-kind piece for what the other child has in mind.

5. While the oldest is trying on the trillionth ugly dress, ask how she would like to do her hair in an attempt to distract from the fact that her legs are exposed. Her legs are hairier than a testosterone soaked Greek man, and if she notices her lower extremities she'll again beg for the bleaching cream torture. That's FUN.

5. Realize that whatever the end product of all this shopping, chances are, flip-flops or Uggs will not be the appropriate shoe for the outfit and the shopping will start all over again tomorrow.

6. Wind up the first day by bribing everyone to let you shop alone the next day.

7. Remember that shopping alone means having to shop sober, have a change of heart and invite them all along for round two.