Mid-CenturyModernMoms

OPK- or Remembering that things could always be worse

Abe and I went down to Providence overnight and stayed with one of my second cousins.  She has a lovely, historic house (with a pool), a nice job, a nice husband and 2 teenage boys.  The younger of the boys is one day older than Rosie (15.5 yo) and the other is 10 month older than him.  But, oy, I wouldn't exchange my world for hers.

Neither of the boys listen at all to their mom and barely at all to their dad.  I know, a lot of that is just normal teenage stuff, but this household is rampantly out of control!

The older son is PDD, just like Abe- but also very different.  Max is a lot more social than Abe was at 16, but then again, he's already been in a residential program for several years. (Unlike Abe who just has done 1 year.)  Max is an electrical genius and he's working for an electrician this summer, but since there was no work this week, he has completely turned his schedule around- sleeping a lot during the day and prowling around at night.

The younger son, Alec hates his brother and won't even accept a hand-me-down pair of shorts from him!  This kid has anxiety attacks and just wants to stay inside all summer.

But both boys were totally normal in that I was able to get them to do things that they never would have done for their own parents.  I got Max out of bed on Sunday morning (at least long enough to have a little conversation with me and then come down to get a cup of milk).  He even went out walking with Abe, me and my cousin the night before.  I didn't give him an option, you see.  I just told him to get his jacket and come with us.  Probably the peer pressure of Abe coming along had a lot to do with that, actually.

I got Alec to sit at the table with all of us eating dinner (well, he ate something else, but he sat).  And I got him to select clothes for a trip that he was taking the next morning.

Meanwhile, Abe is behaving great and taking part in conversations (with the adults) but also playing video games with the boys.  My cousin was so encouraged for her boys to see mine doing so well.  So just remember, when you see someone with a life that you envy, you probably don't know the real story.

(p.s.- Abe finally started his internship, and he loves it!!!  he even knows the name of his lab-mates!)

Why Davey and I love Mondays

Every Monday I drive Davey to a nearby town for a jazz piano lesson with the coolest teacher ever. His teacher doesn't try to be cool, couldn't care if she's cool or not, doesn't dress to be cool, but so IS. Davey and I love her to bits.

He's had a few piano teachers, and we've liked them all, and they've all liked us, but Louise is the first teacher who has shared Davey's love of jazz.  Davey would love nothing more than a full day's lesson with Louise, though his love of lessons doesn't necessarily transfer to long hours of practise. As in he doesn't do long hours of practise - just in case you were wondering!   He practises enough and I'm happy with that because he practises because he enjoys it - he really gets into the 'fiddling around' aspect of Jazz.

I'm thrilled Davey enjoys music, not because I think he's going to make a mozza out of it (is 'mozza' a purely Aussie term? It means lots of money. Lots and lots and lots!), but because I think he's always going to need an outlet for his emotions. Sport takes care of his pent up energy, but music, well music soothes his soul. It expresses the inexpressible and Davey's the sort of kid who has stuff going on inside that needs an outlet to help him process stuff in a way that his electronic game playing doesn't!

So, every Monday afternoon Davey & I have an hour and a half in the car together.  Without Em.  I learn more about my son in that hour and a half than at any other time during the week.  He actually tells me about his day, the things he liked about it, the things he hated.  He tells me about other children at school and his teachers. Sometimes we have very serious conversations, sometimes I laugh until I cry, sometimes there is silence as we meander in our own thoughts. 

At the end of last year Em suddenly twigged that we really enjoyed these Monday afternoon car trips and felt as though she was missing out, and actually said "You two have adventures on Mondays don't you?" in an almost accusing manner.  It was as though the possibility that Davey and I could have fun without her was a totally new thought!

Not long after that, Em concocted an excuse to come with us and accompanied us on our little Monday music adventure.  Davey didn't like it and was quieter than usual during the drive.  Rather than accompanying Seb into Louise's house, I stayed in the car chatting to Em, which was pleasant enough, then we drove home again.  Usually we enjoy car time with the three of us, but somehow this driving time fell a little flat.  Davey felt as though Em was trying to take over his Mum time and Em was struggling to see what Davey & I found so enjoyable - Mum's task of interminable waiting didn't seem to have any appeal to her at all!  I usually use my waiting time to learn Spanish, but having Em with me meant that I put that aside, so I was feeling a little cheated too.

Em didn't ask to accompany us the next week and Davey & I had our usual companionable time together, with Davey commenting that he liked it much better without Em.  As much as my teens like each other these days, it seems they like to have time with Mum when they don't have to share me. 

Louise is surprised we're happy to travel so far to her each week, but I think if Davey gave up music lessons, we just might have to drive to her town for a milkshake every Monday afternoon just for the the mother son bonding time!

My son has a moustache...

My teenage son is in full blown puberty – it freaks me out.  His voice is changing, he wears an athletic cup, and I think I have spotted a slight mustache.  Poor guy- with a house full of girls, he is constantly the brunt of all of our jokes!  He actually takes it very well when my 17 year old daughter tackles him to the ground to ‘investigate’ his moustache.  She claims that it is prickly and then she texts all her friends informing them of her brother’s moustache, as if they really care.  My poor son. Dealing with all the girls and all of their PMS issues and talk of bras must drive him insane.

He's a good kid, his friends are a little weird though. I caught one of them looking at my pile of laundry on the table and when he spotted a lacy bra I think he drooled a little bit.  Creepy no?

I don't have the intimate talks with my son like I do with my daughters- but that's OK because I also don't have the ridiculous drama that comes from the girls.

Sometimes boys are just easier… Gross, but easier.

Posted by Mariah

Watching them unfold

My eldest visited for a couple of days this week. She lives in a city a 7-hour drive away, no small obstacle when, like us, you don't own a car. Sarah's boyfriend does, but it's roughly the same age as she is, and hasn't aged nearly as well. No one wants to be the one at the wheel when it gives its final breath, a hundred miles from anywhere.

But mama misses her daughter, and daughter, having worked through Christmas, wanted to have a Christmas with her family. So mama sent her train fare, daughter packed up her presents, and we settled in for a little family celebration.

It turned out that we were celebrating was not Christmas, but Sarah.

It was so nice to have her around! I love the dynamic between my kids. The younger two scramble to rearrange their social calendars so as to be home when she's here. When mom wants an accommodation, it's just soooo hard to arrange. Impossible, sometimes.

Sarah's coming home?

Drop everything!

And you know what? It's lovely.

It's lovely to hear the laughter, the banter, the warm-hearted teasing. It's lovely to see them all -- my three kids in their adult-sized bodies -- cooking in the kitchen, lounging in the living room, playing cards in the dining room, and talking, talking, talking.

It's lovely to see how 23-year-old Sarah is an adult now.

"I'm hungry!" Rebekah (15) declares.
"There's some chicken stew in a pot on the stove," I offer. "Just nuke yourself a bowl."
"Macaroni and cheese! I'm going to make macaroni and cheese!"
"Yeah, why have yummy and nutritious home-made stew when you can have KD???"
That last sentence? That wasn't me. That was my GROWN-UP daughter. Heh.

She lives in a city far away, she pays her bills, she feeds and clothes herself, she holds down a job.

And what a job. Sarah is a Registered Massage Therapist. EVERY family should have one of those, I tell you. Particularly every family with a Mid-Century Mom, who just might have a few mid-century creaks and groans...

Over these two days, I learned that I am not injuring myself when I get that particular ache in my right shoulder while on the rowing machine, but should start each session with a hot pack and end it with a cold one. I learned a certain stretch to use to prevent that pain in my lower back that can make sleeping difficult some nights. And she pushed, pulled, kneaded and rolled my left foot, coaxing a muscle and a bone back to where they should be, so that I can descend the stairs first thing in the morning without limping.

(Yes, I'm falling apart. I know it. Which is why I am hugely grateful that we now have a skilled body mechanic in the family!)

She's on a train now, heading back home. I miss her company, but I think what I miss almost as much is the pleasure of watching my kids together. Rebekah, a sensible and mature 15-year-old, but still 15. Not so grown-up as she likes to think herself. Adam, at 19 a young quasi-adult, more adult than child, but still straddling the line between the two. And Sarah, 23, and a full-fledged adult.

I see a continuum of maturity in the three of them, and I like its trajectory.

Drivin' Down the Road...

 

  (With apologies)

The time has come the mother said, to talk about many things, of driving tests and teenagers, and licenses and things.

Get the idea?  It's winter in New England and the time is running out on Abe's learner's permit.  Driving has never been a huge motivator for him, even though he is 18 now, but with his Dad not driving, I really need to have another driver in the house.

And with Abe away at boarding school most of the time, getting a driving test scheduled is pretty tight.  We (I) weren't able to book it so that Abe took his test through the driving school that he had used, so he had to go over with his Dad.  Oops.  One additional problem, testing is required to be performed in a car that has at least an emergency brake in the center console.  Quick- think about your car.  Where is the emergency brake?  It's probably a foot pedal on the floor.  Brrapp!  Wrong answer, as far as the Registry is concerned.  So Abe could NOT take the test in the car that he was most familiar with; we had to borrow a car from a friend.

The long and short story was that Abe failed the raod test the first time that he took it, primarily because the borrowed car was a lot more sensitive on the gas pedal than the family car.

Dad did not explode but I told him to go back into the registry and renew Abe's learner's permit.  Another oops.  In between the time that Abe got his permit and now, the rules of the game were changed to be more stringent.  So they would have to get Abe a brand new permit under the new rules and he'd have to go to driver's ed AGAIN, but even longer.  That isn't going to happen. 

So now it's try to schedule the test again within one month.  This time, we were able to schedule it to go with the driving school (much moola, though). And we hope for the best.

Up bright and early to try again.

Deep sigh.  He failed again.  Now I have to figure out when he's going to re-take it AGAIN.  After the test, he spent several hours driving me around.  If only, I can get him to take the test in the driving school car, but after several hours of driving me around.  Hmmmm.

Abe may not have been anxious to get his license, but let me tell you, little sister Rosie certainly is.  She has it all mapped out.  She'll take the 1 week class during next year's school vacation week in February and then right after that, she'll be 16 and eligible for her permit. Zoom, zoom and she's off!

(In her dreams!)

The problems with gifts

  The upcoming holiday seasons bring a big problem to my house (or rather to Mom).

What do I buy for everyone???!!!!

J (Daddy) doesn't buy any presents except for Rosie.  I buy the rest of them, even for his side of the family!  Abe would be perfectly happy with book store gift cards to use on Dungeons & Dragons books, or games for his GameCube.  But J insists, and I agree, that we should get him things that will be more interactive, rather than isolating.  So it's incredibly hard to find anything for him.  And then there is J, who wants the big boy toys, but just goes out and spends (a lot of) money on them anytime. (But would scream if I did that!)

Rosie would be happy with lots of jewelry and clothes (but then so would I).  I would be happy if any of the above men actually went out and thought about an appropriate gift for me.  My darling girl will always make or get me something.

My gift giving balancing act calls for one moderately big gift per person and then several small (sometimes very small) gifts for the kids.  And there certainly have to be the same number of gifts for both kids or screams erupt.

Rosie is easy to get things for.  But the boys???  Impossible.  I don't have any good ideas.  Anyone want to help me out?

As a side note, I just found a wonderful new site (by the brother of my SIL) where you can get shopping totes and recycled goods.  I'm getting a bunch of the shopping totes as secretary gifts!! 

Second child-itis

As I stand looking at Rosie sprawling on a couch, all curled up in a fleece blanket, watching TV-

but DOING HER HOMEWORK, I think that her being a second child is behind a lot of her good habits.

How so, you say?  Second children don't usually have a lot of good habits.  Well, I don't know if that's true or not, but I'll tell you what I've observed about Rose.

Way back when, we were working on potty training Abe.  He was around 5 and because of the (then undiagnosed) PDD and ADHD, the boy was just fine with pooping in his pants.  Rosie wasn't ready to potty train but she saw the tumult going on. (We had to take Abe to a special hospital-based psychological program for him to stay clean.)  I think that she just made up her mind that none of that stress was going to happen to her!

A little while later, when it was time for Rose to transition up to the pre-school and out of diapers, she did.  She just did it.  Period, (almost) end of story.  Of course, there were some "accidents", but in general, it was over.  She had to have been thinking "I saw the tumult with Abe and heck no, I'm not going through that".

Fast forward to the homework years.  There were lots of screaming and crying about homework issues with Abe.  It certainly is tied up in the behavior issues til this day, but there were definitely some learning issues there too.  But Mom and Dad wanted desperately for him to be able to learn- and so did Abe, but never in the same way.  But Rosie looked at all us fighting over school work done at home and said to herself "No way.  I'm just going to sit myself down and do that homework."

Now she's a teen.  And Rosie has her own style of doing homework.  It's one that I really don't agree with, but it gets the job done (mostly), so I don't complain too much.  We could talk about her (lack of) advance planning of longer projects, but that's a rant for another day- after we have parent-teacher conferences in a few weeks!

Before School: It's a Vacation

We just got back from a lovely, restful vacation.  It was only Abe and Rose and me.  The largest (adult) child took himself to a Bar Mitzvah in California and left us to go on vacation without him.  I think that we had a much better time without him than we possibly could with him along.

We had "bought" 3 nights in a condo near Loon Mountain, in Lincoln, New Hampshire at the school silent auction from Rosie's old school.  Since we don't downhill ski, we like to go up to the mountains in the summertime.  We've actually been up at that area about 4 or 5 times.

This time, we had no major plans set, although we were probably going to go to the water park.  We hiked a little (very, very, mild walks), played mini-golf twice, went to the hot tub at the condo village twice and generally relaxed and sat around.  We did a little bit of shopping - mostly shirts for Rose, but also a dress for Mom and a windbreaker for Abe (who had lost his at school!) 

We ate in (the condo), we ate out, we relaxed.  And one of the reasons that Mom could relax was that (wonders of wonders, miracles or miracles....) the kids were EXTREMELY good.  There was a little bit of squabbling and sniping, but overall, everyone (mom included) gave a bit and the vacation was very calm.  This was just what mom needed, even if the kids weren't highly entertained. Abe had to (shudder) actually perform some (very mild) exercise and Rosie had to put up with her brother.But, mostly, Abe got to read and watch TV, Rose got to shop and watch TV, Mom got to sleep late, spend some time outside, not feel guilty about not doing a bunch of chores, eat wonderful meals that she hadn't prepared and not have to yell at the kids.  Mom certainly got the best of this deal. 

But now it's back to school and work.  Abe is back at FLC where he still has another day of vacation there.  Rosie will go to orientation and then start public school in a few days and Mom gets to water the new lawn.  Vacation is always over too soon.

Parenting Strategy #46284: Shut Up and Wait, Mother

Bekah, who was 14 at the time, had her iPod was stolen from her locker last fall. She hadn't secured her combination lock sufficiently it seems, and a brisk shake was enough to loosen it. (This, at any rate, is the theory of her two older siblings, who have more recent experience than I with high school lockers and combination locks -- which, evidently, they're not making as well as they did when I was in school ...)

So, the girl has no iPod. She loves, loves, loves her iPod. Listens to it all the time. Is never without her music. So, not surprisingly, she asks for one for Christmas. The new one. The iPod Touch. Which, having seen one owned by one of Adam's friends, is a very snazzy gadget indeed. One can see the appeal. Hell, seeing the thing has me, who has long been perfectly content with a teeny Zen, wanting one, just for the extreme coolness of the thing. So sleek, so well-designed, so very clever. And Christmas was coming up...

However, a little quick research tells me it costs $330. Before taxes. Which puts it solidly outside my Christmas budget. I might be able to manage that much for one child, but not for all three of them. Bekah suggests a compromise: "It can be my only present, and I don't need a stocking." I try to picture a Christmas with one gift the size of a thickish credit card and nothing - nothing! - else. Besides, I'd already bought stuff, so it was too late anyway.

We sit on my bed and have a Serious Talk, in which I explain why her suggestion, generous as it is, doesn't really resolve the difficulty, and how I just don't feel I can spend that much more on one child than I would be spending on the other two. I ask if she has any other ideas. At this point, however, she is mute with despair. Possibly with rage. But most definitely mute.

"Well, love, I'm going to go do the dishes now. You think about it, and in a little while, we can do some brainstorming." Perhaps I got a nod, but perhaps that was just her head wilting a little closer to the bedspread.

This is a technique learned from hard experience. When a teen is faced with something that causes a strong emotional reaction -- and what doesn't, some days? -- it is far better to leave them with it. My inclination is to Work It Through with them, to keep the 'discussion' going, to try to pry some conversational flow from them. Okay, I admit it: what I'm after is for them to be happy again. Right now! Because I hate the emotional storms. I could drown in all the misery they exude. And I'm the mother! I want my babies to be happy! But ultimately, trying to force the emotional resolution only serves to make everyone believe that I am responsible for their happiness. No reason for them to try to get over it on their own: that's mom's job. Feeling upset? Blame mom!

So, never mind. I go off to do the dishes, and leave her to it.

As I do the dishes, I suffer. I want to buy the damned thing for her. I have a couple of ideas, in fact, as to how it could be managed, but I'm keeping them to myself for now. I don't want to leap in and solve this problem for her. I want her to face the reality that satisfying this desire of hers would result in injustice to her siblings. I want her to wrestle with it.

But I don't want her to suffer! And I have a possible solution or two! And I could just run up there and fix it for her right now! And I sternly tell myself to Knock It Off, and I finish the damned dishes. And tidy the kitchen. And clear the dining table. And sweep the floor. And mess about with bits of paper on the end table. All the while one ear is cocked to the upstairs bedroom. I don't hear any slamming of doors and drawers. I don't hear any sobbing. Is this good or bad?

Just as I am about to pop with maternal angst -- though my kitchen and dining room are cleaner than they've been for weeks!! -- I hear her on the stairs. She swings round the newel post to face me. Her face is not blotched, though her eyes are a bit puffy. And she is smiling.

"I have decided I don't want the iPod." And she proceeds to lay out her new idea for her Christmas gift, a clever, creative, grown-up one. (Which I will not describe at the moment, so as not to distract the flow of the narrative.) And the iPod? "I can save up for one and buy it in the new year. If I get any Christmas money, I can use that towards it, too."

Imagine. A fourteen-year-old, denied her heart's desire, does not scream and rage, does not slam doors, or hurl things about her room, nor even stomp on the stairs; she does not rail against the injustice, and hate me for not making enough money, nor resent her siblings for stealing resources that might otherwise be hers. Instead, she faces facts, changes direction, and comes out with a different, creative solution.

I am so proud of her.

Arguing over food

My twins are very very different. Like Patty Duke, they're different as night and day. My son is a big galoot of a guy, tall, big boned, a bit chunky, blond hair and blue eyes. He's kinda geeky, introverted, a bit socially awkward, smart as a whip, and so freaking obnoxious he could win prizes.

My daughter is petite, sweet and loving, with such a potty mouth you could just keel over. She's very social, but not adept socially. She has tons of friends, is an extrovert of grand proportions, can't stand to not be doing SOMETHING fun every second of the day, and she's a bit of a dim bulb sometimes. With dark hair and dark eyes, her olive skin makes people assume she's from another culture quite a bit.

The one thing that really sets them apart, and makes them argue more than any other topic is food. OMG you would think they were starving African refugees they way the act around food. My son eats anything that is not nailed down. He is relentless in his ability to eat and eat and eat. Even when he knows that the food he's eating is earmarked for a celebration (say the bowl of potato salad for today's picnic for July 4th) or something that was purchased just for me or the Girl. He will eat anything, even when he knows there will be consequences. He just doesn't care. He is an eating machine. Plus he has no interest in setting something aside if he wants to eat it. His impulsivity around food makes for more trouble than anything else.

His sister is not a big eater, nor does she like most foods. What she does like, she protects viciously. She labels things, she hides food, she will do anything to reserve food for herself. Unfortunately, her brother has no respect for her and will search her room if he's on the lookout for candy or sweets. She always has candy or sweets hidden.

My daughter has taken to counting food. If you ever wanted to live with a really annoying person, find a food counter. It could drive you right into the gin bottle. She knows how much there is of everything, and if there is one morsel missing, she's sure to comment upon it. If she's out, when she returns the first thing she does is take inventory of what he's eaten. She counts everything and nothing escapes her eagle eye.

Now, try and imagine living with this pair. She knows if one crumb of pie is missing and he will eat an entire pie if he can possibly not get caught. It's like living in a constant battle zone. I try to make both sides a bit more respectful of each other, but in truth my son is not going to stop eating like every hour is his last meal and she's not going to accept that he's in this huge growth spurt and needs the food intake. They're not nice to each other. They say hurtful things and in honestly, cannot understand the other's position at all. Or even want to. They're content to keep fighting over food. It gives them something to do.

If truth be told, I'm very concerned about my son's lack of sensitivity regarding food. It drives me absolutely bonkers that he will eat things that he KNOWS are earmarked for a celebration or a special occasion. In our house, he will eat all the leftovers knowing that I might want them for lunch. He'll eat all the ice cream in the house, leaving none for anyone else. Whole containers of cookies disappear. Whole loaves of bread vanish without a trace. He takes food up to his room and leaves the dishes up there until I go ballistic because we have no dishes, glasses or silverware left. The kid is that rude and insensitive.

I can't force him to stop. He doesn't really care that this bothers me and his sister. Stuffing his face is way more important than trying not to take what isn't his. So I have no clue as to how to get them to make peace over food. She's furious that everything she wants to eat disappears before she has a chance to even get a taste. He's furious that we're always pissed at him for taking food and eating it all.

Is there any way to solve this? I can't think of one.