Mid-CenturyModernMoms

Limits and limitations

I was prepared to take a brief hiatus from MCMM after the events that led to last week's post.

After all, it's a little difficult to write about being a Mid-Century Modern Mom raising a teen if the subject of the teen becomes off-limits.

But obviously, I'm back, though not really with a vengeance.

The funny thing is that, before Roo revealed that she knew about my blog, my original plan for last week's post was to talk about boundaries.

The boundaries of what to tell and what to keep to myself as my daughter moves through adolescence.

After all, I reasoned, her privacy is important too.

And while this blog and my own are MY space to tell stories and vent, there was a question of how much of HER story I could still tell without stepping over the line.

So, with what I have now learned, I continue to struggle with my limitations. 

She has aggravated me greatly this past week.

She has made me laugh out loud this past week.

She has made me very very proud this past week.

And I yearn to share all of these things with my blog friends.

Yet I haven't.

For while she has returned to her usual grumpy-dramatic-hilarious self, I am forever changed by the knowledge that my daughter has opened my diary and read what is in my heart.

So I search her eyes for signs.

I obsess over the tone of her words.

And I fear that I overcompensate in an attempt to keep her happy.

I actually hope that she read my post from last week. I hope she read the comments on the version that appeared on my blog.

Because there she would see that she is loved -- not just by me but by the people who have come to know her through my words.

If you're in here, Roo, I love you.

On the road to discovery -- self and otherwise

I have had a difficult week.

So has the Roo-girl.

Roo's week went from bad to worse over the course of seven days due to teen drama.

Mine went from irritated (over being the brunt of teen-drama fallout) to bottom-dropping-out-of-it-bad in a heartbeat.

The Roo-girl has discovered my blog.

Not only has she discovered it, but she has been reading it for (in her words) a couple years. This is not entirely a bad thing. If you read me regularly, you know that while I occasionally despair and often poke fun, I love my kids with a ferociousness of a mama lion protecting her cubs.

In fact, in my initial horror at being discovered, I sent a panicked message to a level-headed person who set me straight:

"If you look at what you write about, it's pretty much love letters to your kids. It's not all sunshine and rainbows, but the love is immense and very obvious."

I needed to hear that because Roo let me know about her discovery in the heat of battle over behavior, etiquette and disrespect.

At high volume.

I won't quote her directly, but she informed me in no uncertain terms that she knew about my blog and had been reading it -- and continued to read it because there were things that made her smile.

But what really and truly hurt her to the core is that she found out how her father died by reading my raw emotional account.

The fact that I could tell the internet before I told her wounded and crushed her.

For that, I am sorrier than words can ever express.

And so I am at a crossroads.

Does she want me to stop blogging?

She says no, because she knows it makes me happy.

Do I want to stop blogging? I say no, because I know it makes me happy.

But I also say yes, because I made her unhappy.

Time will tell.

Crossposted at From the Planet of Janet

I'd Walk Away From This Deal or Why I Won't Deal with the Mass. RMV

------An extra post not really about teenagers, but about other tribulations of a mid-century modern mom.

Ora just bought herself a new toy car.  It's a 2010 Toyota Prius.

Rosie adores it and is looking forward six years to college graduation when she can potentially call this car her own.

The car was ordered before ora took off on her Spanish adventure.  And then she waited.

Last week, Ora was home sick with (the flu??) and she finally (only about a month) got the call that her car was here, and when was she going to bring into the dealer the check and the title for the Suburu.  Because this was a cash deal, but some of it involved trading in deceased hubbie's manual transmission station wagon- which Ora does not like to drive (but can), but also that Abe can't drive at all.  Why keep this as a second car under these circumstances?

Ora couldn't just run over to the Toyota dealer because the check had to be certified from the bank (and not a personal check).  But Ora's bank is near work, and she is sick- and not going near work for several more days.  But this wasn't a (serious) problem since there was another branch not too far away.  Okay.

And the title for the Suburu was in the fire-safe box at home (instead of in the safe deposit box at yet another bank).

So Ora is at the dealer the next day and handing over the check and the car title.

BUT...... (and there's always a but)

When the Suburu was re-titled several months before into Ora's name alone (from joint ownership with deceased hubbie), this had been a problem experience with the (shudder) Massachusetts Registry of Motor Vehicles (the RMV).

And by the time that the new title was written, Ora had mistakenly said that the mileage on the Suburu was higher than the real reading on the odometer.

So when it came time to hand in this title and trade in the car, the title STILL had a higher mileade than the odometer.

 

Oops!

The dealer says (to Ora) that you need to go to the RMV and get s new title on this trade-in.

NO WAY!!!

Ora says that she will walk away from buying her new toy car if she has to deal with the Massachusetts RMV.

And the dealer just looked at Ora like she was a crazy lady, even though she offered to write an affadavit saying that she made a mistake with the title mileage.

But Ora is sick- and even if she weren't, dealing with the RMV is enough to make anyone sick.  And it would require at least three visits (because it always does)- or more, and a lot of wasted time to resolve the issue.

[Keep repeating: Ora will NOT drive herself nuts in dealing with the RMV!]

And lo and behold, if Ora signed some magic document form, this could be dealt with (by the dealer) without Ora having to personally deal with the RMV (shudder).
 
The dealer threatened an additional charge for this service, but that didn't get passed along.  There was already a fee (or two) on the new car for the dealer to deal with the RMV.

The end of the story is that Ora has her brand new car and she held her ground and didn't have to personally deal with the dreaded Massachusetts RMV.  the RMV is enough to make you sick all over again!

Incognito

I'm keeping a secret from my family and friends, and it's not the fact that I haven't seen my real hair color in about 15 years. It's the fact that I write for Mid-CenturyModernMoms. When I started posting here, I didn't tell anyone the name of this blog, although I did tell them that I was going to be writing something weekly.

I decided this because I wanted to be able to write anything without fear of judgment from those who knew me best (or thought they did). I wanted to be really honest here, and I knew I couldn't do that if I thought the people closest to me would be reading it. 

I have to say, this choice is a double-edged sword. On one hand, I'm glad I can write what I want without hesitation. On the other hand, there are some entries I would like my mother or my sister or my best friend to read and respond to. And of course, I would love to bring traffic to a blog I think deserves to be read, and not just for my posts.

And then there's the issue of letting Leah read what I've written, after all, mostly everything I've written here is about her. Before I started posting here I asked her if she would mind me writing about our relationship, and she said she wouldn't. But when she asked if she could read the posts, I said no. Well, what I really said was not yet. I asked her if she would wait a year or two, so that we weren't in the thick of things, so to say, when she read these entries. It's not that I don't want her to read them, I just think she needs some time and distance from the events, so she can gain a little perspective on them.

So far, I've been happy with my decision, and if I change my mind, I can always tell people the name of the blog. But I think I'm going to keep it my little secret for now.

I've been remiss

Like every other blog in the universe I should have done a recap of the past year, but I honestly don't have it in me. I'm sick. My son is sick. My daughter is sick. Even my dishwasher is sick. I sincerely apologize for the abject pathetic-ness of this post, but it's taken a whole day just to get up and stumble to the computer. You know, it's one of THOSE days.

Meanwhile, MCMM is once again putting out a request for new writers. We have two open spots. A once-a-week poster for Sundays, and a second emergency fill in poster. We have absolutely no requirements other than you be a parent of teenagers and/or young adults. If you live outside the US and Canada, that would be a real plus. I think an international look at raising teens would be great.

If you're interested, or even mildly curious, please contact me and I'll explain the vigorous job requirements. As in, you have to be breathing. At least better than I am right now!

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!! 

Help Save a Life

I have posted this on my personal blog but felt the need to cross-post here to help a family in need. I urge you all to pass this along and maybe together we can help this family realize a miracle.

Since I have begun his crazy world of blogging I have witnessed some of the most remarkable outpouring of caring I have ever experienced. Friends ask me about the 'relationships' I have forged here and give me that look of skepticism when I tell stories of true connection. You know that look, the yeh, right these are your 'friends' kind of look.  

People voice fear of stalkers and weirdos, perverts and losers. Ok, so the web has its share of these social misfits but, hello, so does the real world. Do we put ourselves at risk when we venture into social media forums like blogging, Twitter and Facebook? Sure we do. But in my estimation the benefit undeniably outweighs the risk.

We have seen acts of kindness beyond description through the tragedy suffered by the Nielson Family. An online auction spear-headed by a single post on a poplular blog, designmom.com, began the fund-raising efforts that have reached almost $250,000 since August. Team Whymommy supports a fellow mom blogger living with inflammatory breast cancer. These stories are countless and part of a future post I am planning so on to the point of this very special Time to Cry Tuesday appeal.

This one hits so close to home as my sweet daughter is coming home for Thanksgiving. We feel so grateful that she and her brother are healthy and thriving. As a parent, the experience of a child with a serious health issue is your worst nightmare. If you have lived through it on any level, you know first-hand. If you have not, it does not matter for you project and pray for the families who do. But you need not be a parent to be touched by this story.

Please join myself and countless bloggers and twitters who have stepped up to help spread the word about a family in dire need. The Domestic Diva, a blogger and mom, has sent out a plea for help. Her 15-year-old daughter is in desperate need of a kidney. For those who hate to click the link here is the abbreviated story:

She has been moved to NY Presbyterian-Columbia University Hospital (NYP) in hopes their additional living-donor kidney programs will save her life.  Not only will NYP consider family members as donors, but are willing to evaluate EVERYONE (friends, associates and kind strangers) who wants to donate a kidney.  That’s right…EVERYONE regardless of blood type, antibody mismatch, age, etc.  

Please help spread the word. If you do not blog you can still help. Send this link to your email list, post it on your Facebook or other social network page. If you do blog, consider posting about this. 

As an illustration of how powerful the blogosphere is, check out what my blog friends Jessica and Amy have to say. 

UPDATE 11.25.08 10PM: The Domestic Diva has informed us through Twitter tonight that the hospital has never received so many donor applications. If donor is agreeable and further testing goes well docs want to schedule transplant for the day after Christmas. The power is amazing!

Does EVERYONE have a blog?

I would think the answer to that would be...

Not everyone, but it is beginning to feel that way. I mean I have one for G-d sake, and who the hell am I?

A friend told me the MOST hysterical story the other night. She had her annual gynecologist's appointment last week. The doctor came into the exam room and right before she began the exam said, "Did I tell you I have a blog?"

Ok, seriously. Is this what we want to hear from our gyn right before she says, "Can you slide down just a little bit further?" I challenge anyone to tell me that their gyn does not ask them to slide down a little more. There have been times when I swore my ass was almost hanging off the edge of the exam table in some bizarre yogic position with my legs in the stirrups and the doc still asks me to 'slide down just a little bit further'.

Oops, I digress. So, here is my friend in that lovely pose and all she wants to ask is, "What is the name of your blog, The Vagina Monologue?" Luckily she was able to curb the impulse to be a wise ass. (something I could never master). She said something like, "oh, really. how nice."

Does this make anyone else nervous? We sign the HIPA form and think we are done. But are we featured on some med blogs as a Jane Doe of symptoms? Kind of creepy if you ask me.

No worries, it turns out the blog is a medical info type thing that she writes with a group of other docs. Sorry, that is nowhere as funny as where our runaway imaginations can take us.

Now if I find out my dog groomer is blogging I am really going to be furious.

The Absurdity of Voting in the Midwest

First, thank friggin' goodness. Congrats President Obama. May we begin the road to the America we deserve! I would also like to mention that McCain's speech was quite gracious even if his audience was not. A friend just said he was way more sincere in defeat than he was in debate.

Well, everyone, it has happened. I have turned my daughter into a blogger! All day long my 19-year-old college sophomore has been calling and IMing me about the election. I convinced her to document the day in images. Out she went with her camera, snapping away 50 pics in no time.

Then she went to the polls. She called in a rage about the absurdity of the process so I asked her to write about it. Here goes:

I entered an almost empty polling room at 4:45 pm at the Madison Area Technical College in Madison, Wisconsin.

I walked up to the sign in table where I was asked my name and address. Without presenting any identification, I was crossed off a list and presented a small sheet of paper with my voting number.

I was then directed towards another table where I traded my number for a large piece of white paper inside of a blue folded sheet of paper along with a thick black marker. There were two tables set up next to each other on the opposite side of the room, one with chairs set up in front of it and the other tall enough to stand in front of.

On the tables were plastic and cardboard dividers separating the tables into smaller, “more private” sections. I approached the dividers and I separated myself from one of my friends, leaving one cubicle in between the two of us. I removed the white sheet of paper and read the directions on top that explained how to vote. Each candidate and referendum had a broken line to the right of them and in order for a vote to be registered, the line had to be connected.

Although we were separated, my friend and I were able to talk throughout the entire process and she was even able to ask me what to write for each referendum. There was no one regulating the conversation between the two of us. If there had been a person in the cubicle next to me, I could have easily looked over to see how they were voting.

After the cubicles, I placed the ballot into a machine where a poll regulator was standing watching me do so. With one glance he was capable of seeing how I voted.

So basically, I voted for the president of the United States by connecting the dots without any privacy.

I’ve participated in High School Student Council votes that were more official than this.

And there you have it. Out of the mouths of babes (sort of). Perhaps some voting reform is in order.

No time to bake, but Photoshop...

… there is always time for Photoshop. And then I won't be stuck with a whole cake in my house screaming in the middle of the night, waking me up and forcing me to consume it like I am in some Ambien-induced sleepwalking binge coma.

Oh, sorry about that. I got off topic.

Our charge this week was to celebrate MCMM's 1st blogaversary by baking a cake, preferably with our kids. Yeh, well that was not going to happen around here this weekend. Not with all soccer all the time Danny. I am sure sweet Jana would have jumped right in but she has a hard time licking the spoon all the way from Wisconsin (not that she wouldn't give it her best shot).

So instead, I jumped in with a little Photoshop magic. The sentiment is the same.

This got me to thinking how I miss the days when they were little and they loved to bake with me (but not the mess or the fight over who got to crack the eggs). And the nights when Jana's friends would come here for movie and baking night when they were fed up with the boring suburban scene. How I loved all those girls around my kitchen table. (girls if you are reading please come bake here when you are home for Thankgiving and make a IRB-deprived mom happy). Even Danny's friends went through a major baking phase. They have a cult-like affinity for Funfetti cakes.

Enough nostalgia, I am sure my black and white kitchen floor still has a few messy, teen-inspired baking days in its future.

Congrats to my fellow MCMM bloggers. I am late to this party but will never miss out on a chance to serve up the cake.