Lessons learned from vandelism

I’ve lived in my town for twelve years, and for as long as I can remember there has been an ongoing battle to build a new high school for our children.

The idea has been proposed, vetoed, proposed and approved. The construction was temporarily halted due to issues with the chosen contractor. And yet, despite these setbacks, the new high school continues to grow, inching closer to its projected opening of September 2011.

And now the latest setback. Last week, three teenagers were arrested for vandalizing the interior of the new school. Glass was broken and walls were spray painted. The incident made the front page of the local paper and many town residents are buzzing about the identity of the perpetrators (two were from our town, one from a neighboring town). Since the kids are underage, their names have been withheld.

I’m glad I don’t know who the kids are. It would be too easy to point fingers and pass judgment. When something like this happens, I try to say “There but for the grace of God go I” and hope that my own children will avoid making a similar mistake when they hit those difficult, teenage years.

As a mom, I’ve tried to instill the idea that my children should respect the property of others. Every time I sent one of them off to a play date, I would remind them to play nicely with the other person and be especially careful with that friend’s toys. I’ve also tried to emphasize that they need to be respectful of each other’s possessions. Still, I’ve lost count of how many times one has complained that the other has “ruined” their Lego set.

Yes, it’s a bit of a stretch from breaking down a Lego set to breaking windows and tagging walls. But these same teenagers were kids once too, and though I don’t know them personally, I’m willing to bet that their parents tried to instill the same values in them when they were children. Despite our best efforts, our kids sometimes make poor choices.

My oldest is on the brink of his teenage years, which means that he may soon morph from my sweet, good natured son into a sullen, moody, unrecognizable teen. When that happens, will he remember his lessons from the DARE program or will he ignore them? Will he continue to pursue a place on the honor roll or will social relationships become more important? Will he remember to respect the property of others or will he give in to peer pressure and damage someone’s property?

One of my good friends is the mother of two teenagers and as we discussed this week’s incident, she commented, “Raising teenagers is like being on an amusement park ride. You just have to hold on tight and hope you all get to the end safely.” Though her children, in general, make good choices, they’ve also had their share of mistakes and missteps. During our conversation, she and another friend revealed some poor choices they made when they were teenagers. I think many of us cringe over at least one thing we’ve done during that time in our lives

Getting back to the high school. I’m sad that these kids chose to vandalize something that has faced so many setbacks already. I can’t begin to guess what might have motivated their actions, nor would I want to try. It’s not my job to place judgment or grant absolution. That’s for the courts to decide.

But I have hope. I hope that those teens will use this incident as a life lesson and put that type of behavior behind them. I hope that when the new high school finally opens, all of our children will take pride in what they have been given. I’m hoping that the new halls and classrooms that surround them will give them a sense of ownership about something that their community has worked so hard to
provide.

One can hope.

Boredom "On Ice"

There are many things I miss as my children get older. I miss participating in activities in their classroom. I miss naps. And I miss the sweet smell of the tops of their heads as they dozed on my shoulder.

But the one thing I will not miss is sitting through anything that ends with the words “on ice”.

Don’t get me wrong. I love hockey. As a teenager, I was a huge fan of the New York Rangers, and though I’m still a little sketchy on the term “off sides”, I still enjoy the fast paced action of a good hockey game.

I also really enjoy figure skating. When the winter Olympics aired last year, I was riveted to all the figure skating. Even ice dancing.

No, the words “on ice” that I refer to are those skating revues that sprout like mushrooms at our local sports arena each year during winter vacation. This year’s production: “Toy Story 3…On Ice”.

Something‘s happened to these ice revues over the years. When I was a kid, there were no movie tie-ins for the ice show. It was simply called “The Ice Capades”, and usually it featured an assortment of B-list skaters and possibly a former Olympian or two. And yes, it took me 40 years to realize that the title “Ice Capades” is a play on the word “escapade”. (What can I say? I’m slow to catch on.)

I have a vague memory of my parents taking my sisters and me to see “Ice Capades” at Madison Square Garden in NYC. I can’t remember how old I was, but I remember being transfixed by the sparkly costumes, the majestic music and the grace and beauty of the skating. I also remember my father purchasing a small souvenir flashlight on a string. The trick was to swing the flashlight around in a circle, and if you looked throughout the audience you could see thousands of circles of light in the darkness. It took me less than a minute to hit my dad in the face, at which point the flashlight disappeared into my mother’s purse for the remainder of the performance.

Fast forward 35 years to a February vacation where I was the mom and my own children were begging to see the ice show du jour: “Disney’s The Incredibles On Ice”. As I mentioned, ice shows have morphed over the years to focus on one central theme for the program. The year I took my children, the theme was Disney/Pixar’s “The Incredibles”. Since I have two sons, it seemed a more appropriate choice than “Disney Princesses On Ice” or “The Little Mermaid On Ice”.

As my family waited for the program to begin, I noticed several vendors walking through the stands hawking popcorn and cotton candy. Apparently, inflation has severely affected cotton candy prices, because the vendors were asking an astronomical $10 each. Popcorn wasn’t much better, and purchasing a Slushee for each child would have involved a second mortgage. Each treat was housed in some sort of “commemorative” packaging, so when the actual snack was finished, kids would have a cheap plastic cup or wand to remind them of that special afternoon that sent their parents into bankruptcy.

I ignored my children’s cries of “I’m hungry” and “I’m thirsty” and reminded them to focus on the ice skating instead. As the lights dimmed, I leaned forward in my seat, anticipating the “incredible” skating ahead.

90 minutes later I realized that “The Incredibles On Ice” was basically one big commercial for Disney World, thinly veiled in a story featuring the characters from the movie: Syndrome, the villain from the film, chases The Incredibles throughout Disney World, as the family checks out all the featured rides at the theme park. The skating was adequate, but what I remember most about the program was deflecting the million dollar question as we exited the arena: “When are we going to Disney World Mom?” Gee, thanks Disney.

The other day I was relaying our “Incredibles on Ice” story to a friend of mine. He laughed and suggested that perhaps they should base an ice show on a different movie: “The Expendables”. If you’re not familiar with that film, Sylvester Stallone leads a team of mercenaries to South America to overthrow a dictator. The film also stars Jason Statham, Dolph Lundgren, Jet Li and a handful of other tough guys. I can just imagine “The Expendables on Ice”. A combination of mixed martial arts and ice skating. Pyrotechnics and triple Salchows. Cotton candy hanging from plastic souvenir Uzis.

Now that’s something I would pay money to see.

Surviving School Vacation

If you’re like me, you are probably wondering how to style your hair…or what’s left of your hair after pulling out most of it in frustration because it’s February vacation week.

Now February vacation is a challenge under the best of circumstances. There’s a week off at Christmas. Then two weeks later a long weekend for Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday (and if you live in my town you have an exceedingly long weekend since a professional day was tacked on the Tuesday after MLK day. Thanks.) After MLK weekend, it’s just a few short weeks until President’s Day, heralding yet another week of vacation.

So you can see how parents might be a little bit punchy with all those vacation days under normal circumstances. However, this winter has been anything but normal. With four snow days thrown into the mix (and a couple of early dismissals as well), we’ve had only two full weeks of school this year. I heard rumblings about possibly eliminating some of either February or April vacation, in order to make up snow days, but so far, no such luck.

By the time this column reaches your hands we will have all heard the following phrases more times than we can count:

“I’m bored.”

“I’m hungry.”

“What are we doing today?” (Also rephrased as the statement, “There’s nothing to do.”)

“He/she is hogging the television/video game system/computer/iPad/iPod/iTouch.”

Sound familiar? Here are a few survival tips on responding to these phrases allowing you to regain a small amount of sanity over these last few days of vacation.

A friend has a brilliant solution whenever her kids say “I’m bored.” She whips out the vacuum cleaner, toilet brush, dust rag and directs them to whatever needs to be cleaned. As you can imagine, the words “I’m bored” are rarely uttered in her presence. Give it a try. The first few times your kids utter this phrase, you’ll end up with a sparkly clean toilet bowl or kitchen counter. Stock up on extra Lysol and Windex so everyone can have their own bottle. After they catch on, your kids may only think or whisper “I’m bored” under their breath, but as long as you don’t have to listen to it, who cares?

My nearly-teenage son frequently says, “I’m hungry”. I helpfully reply, “Well, what are you hungry for?” to which he usually says, “I don’t know.” At this point I start to list everything in the refrigerator and pantry, all of which gets rejected. From now on the phrase “I’m hungry” will be countered with the response, “So am I. What do you feel like making me?” It’s a great opportunity for your child to learn how to prepare your favorite goodies. Watch it come in handy when Mother’s Day rolls around.

The question “What are we doing today?” sets my teeth on edge. As it is, I hear this most weekends, not just school vacation week. It’s as if I’m Julie McCoy and I’ve created this mysterious agenda for each non-school day, but just haven’t shared it with them yet. Rather than respond with “Well, we’ve got shuffleboard on the Lido deck and Isaac is giving bartending lessons at three in the Coconut Lounge”, I’m going to give them an honest answer: “I’m cleaning out the fridge and I could use your help. Can you taste these items and let me know if they’re spoiled? (This might actually tie in with the aforementioned “I’m hungry” complaint).

When the inevitable “there’s nothing to do” comes up, counter with all the things you have on your agenda: “Sure there is! Can you pull the stove out and clean that little area I can’t reach where all the food falls down between the stove and the counter? And when you’re done, can you clean the grout in the shower? Just grab your toothbrush and use it to scrub, that’s what I do when you’re at school.”

Inevitably one of my kids will complain that the other is hogging the television, Wii or computer. Distract them with something shiny, and then surreptitiously throw the circuit breakers on those items. Explain that sometimes there are partial blackouts that only affect these items and suggest they read a book….in their room…with the door closed. Be aware that this does sometimes backfire. Be prepared to get sucked into a marathon game of Monopoly or Clue. When you can’t take one more trip around the board, excuse yourself and throw the circuit breakers back on.

And for those of you lucky enough to be relaxing on a tropical shore or schussing through the mountains of New Hampshire, I wish you a wonderful vacation week with just one word of warning: Your day will come. Perhaps during April vacation week.

Good luck.

Down for the Count

The cold and flu season is upon us. I don’t consider myself to have a super immune system. I try to prevent colds by practicing good hand washing and taking vitamins (when I remember). Typically, at the first sign of a cold, I pop extra vitamin C or those immune-boosting tablets you see advertised on television. Still, with all these precautions, I did find myself coming down with a cold this week.

Even when I succumb to a nasty cold, I find myself continuing with my daily routine. The advice “get plenty of rest” doesn’t apply to moms. If we were to suddenly plop ourselves down on the couch with a box of tissues and a cup of tea, who would drive the kids to taekwondo and baseball practice? Who would pack lunches in the morning, run five loads of laundry, do the food shopping and make dinner? Who’d crack the whip over the kids as they do their homework, find their AWOL baseball glove or the head from their Lego Star Wars clone trooper?

Yes, we ignore medical advice and continue with our daily routines because we know that if we didn’t, civilization as we know it would grind to a halt.

Or would it?

My husband has a similar ethic when it comes to being sick. Unless he is at death’s door, he will drive 60 minutes to work and put in a full day, despite looking and sounding like the creature from the black lagoon and potentially infecting every co-worker within a five cubicle radius. However, on those rare occasions when he is just too sick to work, he stays in bed for the entire day and sleeps, rousing himself only for bathroom breaks or a bowl of chicken soup.

Since my current cold presented itself near the end of the week, I decided to forgo my usual routine of blundering through my daily chores, embrace my sickness and take to my bed. Fortunately, my husband works half days on Fridays. He was home in time to take one of our boys to his taekwondo practice, and then drive the other son to his school dance that evening. But what about dinner? Under normal circumstances I would go ahead and cook, adding a smidge of germs to whatever dish I was making. This time, instead of picking up a skillet I picked up the phone and ordered Chinese takeout. A breakthrough! Besides, we all know hot and sour soup is good for a cold, right?

The next day was Saturday. One son had baseball while the other son was scheduled to participate in a service project at church (for which I had volunteered to drive). Luckily, my son caught my cold, and was sniffing and coughing as much as I was. As I was about to call the project coordinator, my husband walked into the room. “Can you call him?” I asked, using my diminished strength to hand him the phone (I hate making those calls under the best of circumstances). I added a few coughs for good measure. “Of course I can,” he replied as I fell back against the pillows and reached for the television remote. I was starting to get the hang of this.

I spent the entire day in bed, surrounded by tissue boxes, throat lozenges, magazines and my television remote. I watched “The Godfather” in its entirety and dozed on an off through a marathon of “American Pickers” on the History Channel. I drank orange juice and ate leftover Chinese food (“feed a cold”). I read an entire book, cover to cover. And when it came time for dinner, I sat back and let my husband whip up a chicken casserole. Who knew that being sick could be so therapeutic?

Still, all good things must come to an end. Tempted though I was to spend another day in bed, it was my turn to teach Sunday school. On the way home from church, I stopped to buy groceries for the week. As I type this I’m baking Valentine’s cupcakes and helping my son create cards for his classroom. There’s laundry in the dryer, the house needs a good vacuuming, and there’s youth group this evening.
Though I’m still sneezing and blowing my nose, I feel like a human being again. Had I not spent the entire day in bed, I’m pretty sure I would be feeling worse today, not better. Though no one likes being sick, I did enjoy absolving myself of all my regular duties for that one day. Still, I doubt I’ll have the chance to repeat it anytime soon.

Unless…unless I catch that stomach bug I hear is going around. Hmmmmm.

Happy Valentine's Day

Valentine’s Day is nearly here. Have you bought your chocolates? Booked your table at a fancy restaurant? Snuck red-faced into Victoria’s Secret looking for that special item for the woman in your life? Well, what are you waiting for?

Some people love Valentine’s Day, others hate it. Is it really a day to cherish those people we love most or a day for Hallmark, Teleflora and most restaurants to suck all the money out of our wallets?

Well...it’s both. Valentine’s Day can be the most wonderful day of the year when you are in love. If you’re not in a relationship, it can be torture. The day is filled with love songs, roses, romantic movies and retail specials geared towards everyone and everything: “Show your car how much you love it…bring it in for an oil change on Feb. 14”.

After reading “Waiter Rant” a tell-all memoir by a professional waiter, I learned that Valentine’s Day is one of the absolute worst days to dine out. Restaurants create “special” menus which feature the priciest items and service tends to be less than stellar. Get take out and bring it home, or better still, prepare a special meal for your loved one in your own kitchen (men, I’m directing this to you, since I’m willing to bet that a large portion of the women reading this do the bulk of the cooking on a day to day basis. Does this make me sexist? Yup).

And then there’s candy. Forget the Whitman sampler. The best part about Whitman chocolates is the map that tells you how to avoid the nasty ones. However, I find most of them are nasty, so go for the good stuff: Ghirardelli, Godiva or Lindt. Avoid the candy conversation hearts like the plague. One year my son handed me one of those cute little candies with the phrase “I Luv U” on it. “Eat it mommy,” he urged, and like a good mother I did. Crack. That sound you heard was my tooth breaking apart. The only one feeling the love that year was my dentist, who was more than happy to replace my crown.

Somehow Valentine cards spiraled out of control at my house. Growing up, we bought cards for each member of our family. I continued this tradition when my children came along. But then one year I finally realized that I was sending cards from myself, my husband and my kids to my mother, father, in-laws, sisters, brothers-in-law, niece and nephews. It was like some kind of crazy math problem from my son’s homework:” If you have 15 people and each person sends a Valentine to each of the other people, how many Valentines will you have sent in all?” I may not be a math whiz, but when I added up all the cards and postage, I realized Valentine’s Day was becoming almost as expensive as Christmas. That was the year I discovered the one-size-fits-all photo card. Much like a Christmas card, I could customize it with photos of the entire family and send one card to each person on the list. This year I’m going to get creative with e-cards. By the way, the photo card also works well for those kids who don’t want to hand write their name on their classroom valentines. For the last couple of years my son has given classmates snazzy photo cards preprinted with “Happy Valentine’s Day from your friend Cooper.” They cost a bit more than Hannah Montana, Justin Bieber or “Toy Story 3” boxed cards, but the time you save…priceless.

Remember mix tapes? What better gift to give than a customized CD of music for the one you love? I did this one year for my husband. I compiled a playlist of romantic songs, each one designed to express my feelings for the wonderful man in my life. The mistake I made, however, was choosing romantic songs by artists that I liked: James Ingram, Celine Dion, Styx, and even a few show tunes made it onto the CD. I couldn’t figure out why my Grateful Dead-Beck-and-Stevie-Ray-Vaughn-loving-husband didn’t appreciate the gesture more. Next time I’ll look through his iTunes library before compiling a musical tribute.

Finally, why not wrap up your Valentine’s Day snuggling on the couch with a romantic movie? Sure you can limit yourselves to the obvious choices like “Sleepless in Seattle”, “Casablanca” or “The Princess Bride” (my husband’s personal favorite). Why not cast your net a bit wider and try a less conventional film? “Truly, Madly, Deeply” stars Alan Rickman (aka Severus Snape) as the deceased lover who returns from the grave to hang out for a bit with the woman he loves (and no, this is not a zombie flick. Think “Ghost” before there was “Ghost”). Want your man to get in touch with his feelings? Sit him down to a double feature of “Field of Dreams” and “Brian’s Song”. Have Kleenex nearby. And for those who are looking for something truly bizarre, may I recommend “Boxing Helena”, the story of a surgeon who becomes obsessed with a woman and removes her limbs in order to keep her close, in a box. Now there’s someone who should have stuck with the Whitman Sampler.

However you choose to celebrate, I wish you all a very Happy Valentine’s Day.
XOXOXO

Date night for Mom and Dad

The other night my husband and I had dinner together.

We had talked for quite a while about getting out for a “date”, just the two of us. There were no movies we were dying to see, so armed with a gift certificate to a local restaurant, we both looked forward to reconnecting as a couple for just a few short hours.

Naturally, our children tried to derail our plans.

I think my first mistake was telling our two boys exactly where we were going for dinner.

“We’re going to The Fours in Norwell, “I said, hoping to reassure them that we would be close to home and able to return quickly should some unforeseen reason arise.
“The Fours?” they chorused in disappointment. My kids associate The Fours with good food and fun. How dare their parents decide to dine there without them? Had I been smart, I would have told them we were trying a new French restaurant that specializes in frog’s legs, sweetbreads and escargot. The idea that their parents were venturing out to the place that served their favorite burgers and nachos was unthinkable; practically treason.

A short time after our announcement, the kids tried to play the guilt card. My younger son attempted to school my older son in the nuances of passive aggressiveness. “Say it this way, “he instructed, continuing, “Oh well, I guess we’re not going to The Fours with you for dinner tonight. We’ll just have to stay home and eat stale bread and water instead.” Not bad for a nine year old. A few more years and he’ll be even more skilled than his mother.

A bit later, I called the two boys to the table for their dinner. They trudged up the stairs with heavy footsteps, their shoulders slumped and their heads hung low. Clearly they were trying to use body language to convey their displeasure with our plans.

I gently explained to the boys that moms and dads need time alone to reconnect. Time to talk about everything and nothing. Time to laugh at each other’s jokes and enjoy a quiet dinner without having to referee fights or remind someone to sit up straight or stop picking on their brother.

They countered with this logic: “You know you just went to your friend’s house for dinner a couple of weeks ago.” (True). “And you went to see “The King’s Speech” while you left us home with Nana and Grandpa!” (Yes…at Christmas).

My nine year old decided it was time to pull out his final trick, the ace in the hole: “You mean to tell me you don’t want to stay home and spend time with your own children? What’s wrong with you?” This phrase is a running joke between us, yet I knew there was an underlying note of truth in his jest.

Time to pull out my own lethal weapon: “Do you know, “I asked them, “what happens sometimes to moms and dads who don’t get to spend enough time together as a couple?”

“What?” they asked.
“They get divorced. “ Silence.

I continued, “Think about it. Do you really want to spend every other weekend and Wednesday nights with your father?”

“No,” they answered grudgingly as my husband murmured that Tuesday nights would actually work better for him. Resigned to an evening with no one to monitor their video game playing and YouTube viewing habits, they waved goodbye as we headed to The Fours.

Less than two hours later we were home, sated by a good meal, a couple of drinks and enough time to laugh and remind ourselves exactly what we love best about each other. Aside from a depletion of cookies from the cookie jar, our children were no worse the wear for our brief evening out.

There will be more opportunities ahead for my husband and I to enjoy our “alone” time. However, if we decide to visit The Fours again, this time we might have to bring our passive aggressive, guilt-inducing, nacho-eating children along too.

OH NO! MORE SNOW!

Here they are, the top 10 reasons why it’s great that we keep getting so much snow:

#10: The entire lawn and flower beds are covered in white. No longer am I reminded of the sad state my grass was in at the end of the summer. Ditto for all the weeds that should have been pulled in my perennial beds (but weren’t). Did I remember to rake the leaves, or are they under all that white as well? Hmmmm.

#9: Everyone needs a little practice with their defensive driving. When you hit a patch of ice at 40 mph, do you slam on the brakes? Turn into the skid? Turn against the skid? Scream at the top of your lungs for Jesus to take the wheel? If you’re like me, the answer is; all of the above.

#8: Poor Home Depot. I have to imagine their sales are down this time of the year. Who does home repairs in the dead of winter? Best to keep your local hardware store in business by buying all those replacement shovels, snow blowers and fifty pound bags of rock salt. Pick up a roll of duct tape while you’re at it so you can bind your bumper back to the car after Jesus ignores your request to take the wheel.

#7: Nature intended animals to grow fat and hibernate in the winter. They did not intend animals to risk life and limb by driving to the gym on dangerous, icy roads, or worse yet, jogging on those same roads, causing drivers to swerve into the opposite lane to avoid a vehicular manslaughter conviction. Have you ever seen a bear doing Zumba? A raccoon on the Stairmaster? Next time you feel guilty sitting home on the couch watching “The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills” just remind yourself that this is what nature intended.

#6: Happy Weathermen. Ever notice how glum the meteorologists seem during the summer months? They just can’t muster the same enthusiasm for heat waves and summer thunderstorms as they can for a really good snowfall. Notice how gleeful they are as they predict the next “Snowpocalypse”, scaring us with bold graphics that say “Super Storm” and “N’or Easter”. Smugly they stand in their comfortable television studios while their miserable comrades huddle by the side of the highway in Natick or hang onto signposts as they brave the pounding surf in Scituate, clumps of ice clinging to their eyebrows and microphones.

#5: The chance to reminisce about “the big one”. Those of you born after 1980 can only sit helplessly by and listen to endless stories about “The Blizzard of ‘78”, when civilization ground to a halt for several days while people holed up in their houses, apartments and dorm rooms, huddling to keep warm (some sucking down schnapps and beer and whatever else was hiding in the liquor cabinet, also on the guise of keeping warm). Every huge dump of snowfall allows someone to proclaim, “Why this is nothing…back in the Blizzard of ’78…” to anyone within earshot. Add earplugs to your winter survival list.

#4: Winter sports fanatics can ski, snowboard, sled, ice skate, play hockey and snowshoe to their heart’s content. Back in the days before children, my husband and I didn’t mind spending our disposable income on $79 lift tickets and $8 bowls of chili at places like Loon Mountain and Sugarloaf. Now we limit our winter sports to shoving our kids down our side hill and hoping they don’t crash their sleds into the neighbor’s basement window. Whee!

#3: There is no better cardio workout than shoveling. Sure, you can pay someone $30 to plow your driveway, but what fun is that? Most winters, 90% of the snow falls while my husband is at work. If I want him to get up our steep driveway, I have to clear the drive before he gets home. Do you shovel before the snow stops, necessitating a possible second pass? Or do you wait for the storm to clear, endangering your heart and your back by hefting a heavier shovel full of snow?

#2: Snow days. Yes, I moan and complain about those rare days when the schools feel it’s too dangerous to ride the bus, but secretly I like the idea that I don’t have to get up at the crack of dawn, make lunches and hustle my two boys into their clothes and out to the bus stop. Sadly, this means that they will have to make up these days at the end of the school year. Happily, this means more time for me to enjoy my friends’ pool before the kids are out for the summer.

And the #1 reason why it’s so great to have so much snow is…lording our superiority over those climate-challenged friends who cower in warmer temperatures during the winter. We endure their snarky comments on Facebook, (“77 degrees in L.A. today!”) but we know they’re just jealous that they’re not as hardy as we New Englanders. “That which does not break us only serves to make us stronger”, we cry as we raise our shovels high. While they…they drive their convertibles to Jamba Juice.