No Day at the Beach

I picked up a gaggle of my oldest daughters' friends from a day at the beach yesterday. They weren't where they were supposed to be, and for a few minutes I couldn't find them. They had wandered off and found themselves (lo and behold) hanging out at a boys lacrosse practice session, a block or two from the lake. When I found them, I was a bit taken aback. There they were in bathing suit tops, "soffee" shorts and flip flops. Their bodies so young and flawless. Not a dimple of cellulite nor a single little fat roll. Their skin still smooth, baby soft and not yet damaged by the sun. Here they are, little girls learning how to walk around in a more womanly skin, and I wonder if they know it. They're still young and innocent in so many ways, but do they know that by wearing their tiny bikini tops and shorts, they are being provocative?

I loaded the group of them into my car, and began my lecture. Half of these girls, I hadn't met, and don't know their families, but I lectured anyway. My main concern was that no one had told a grown-up where they were. But, in addition, they have to be very careful flaunting their stuff around the neighborhood.

A couple girls argued that their moms wouldn't be mad, and for a moment, I thought, can that be true? Sure enough, though, I marched them right back to another girls house,who's mother I had just met, and THANK G-D, this other mom backed me up 100%.

Oh, how I hope I can protect them. But we do have to rely on the good sense of their friend's parents as well. When I'm responsible for someone else's daughter, I have the same expectations of them as I would for my own child. And if I see behavior that is blatantly improper or rude, I don't mind pointing it out. I only hope that the moms of my daughters friends will do the same for me.

Delicious Summer

One of the things I like best about my neighborhood is the lakes and beaches that are here for the residents. For a very reasonable $325 per year, we have tennis courts, basketball courts, playgrounds, well kept common areas, even some community parties. But the best part is the lake. Large and still, with suburban homes surrounding it, our lake is a wonderful place to spend the day.

When the girls were little, we used to spend every summer day on this lovely lake. They learned to swim here, caught tiny tad-poles and smelly snails, we donned safety vests and went canoeing and paddle boating, got more than our share of sunburn, built sand castles and made friends.

We spent the day at the lake yesterday, to celebrate the beginning of summer. It was a perfect day, but bittersweet for me.

This year will be the 5th summer that I have packed my entire family up (okay, we leave the husband at home), and take the girls to overnight camp. Most parents leave their kids there, but I stay up with them, for 8 weeks, working in the arts and crafts department. It's a complete lifestyle change for me, because the girls sleep in bunks, and I sleep in my own private cabin. I do no laundry, cooking, carpooling or major cleaning. My children are occupied, cared for and are having the time of their life. My job is rewarding and fun, I get to get messy and work with a myriad of different craft materials, I supervise a group of about 10 college aged counselors, I get to excercise my creative energy, and spend A LOT of time giggling with one very special girl friend.

The beginning of the summer is always a little tough for me emotionally. For a lot of moms, this is a time to gear up for summer activities, vacations and a slower pace. For me, this time is spent shopping for clothes and socks and bathing suits, labeling everything, foraging through the hall closet praying that I'll be able to find all 9 duffle bags that will need to be packed. Bottom line is, that I am BUSY preparing to move away.

It is this time of year when I look longingly at my flower beds, and feel a tinge of sadness that I won't be home to water and nurture them everyday. I'll miss preparing dinner on our new barbecue, and sitting on our screen porch watching my girls and their friends jumping on the trampoline. I'll miss sipping a glass of wine with my husband when he gets home from work and sharing our stories of the day. I'll miss my morning telephone call to my mom. Not to mention the countless back and forth with my sister. I'll miss General Hospital, (my favorite guilty pleasure), the joy of central air conditioning, my own cooking, carpeting, cleanliness, straight hair, Special K with Red Berries, walking on flat surfaces, my computer, reading stories with Addison at night, manicures, my shower, having someone to snuggle with as I fall asleep, and of course I'll just miss my girls.

It's always sad to leave, and transition into a new lifestyle. But of course we adapt, and our way of life at camp becomes not too bad. Before we know it, 8 weeks fly by and its time to come home and unpack and settle back in.

One of the best things about camp is that moment when we get home. We're filthy and tired, but this is the day I get my life back. I can just be with my girls and appreciate how magnificent they are. Without a summer at camp, I might not understand what a luxurious life I lead. I get to do the cooking. I get to do the cleaning. I get to do the laundry. I get to do the schlepping. And even though, through most of the year, these responsibilities seem thankless, it is at the end of the summer, when I get to do them again, that I can really appreciate how truly blessed I am.

Her story....

She sauntered into the warm soft room. She was so tired, but finally alone. Here she could rest. She didn't feel like eating, so she snuggled down into the soft downy bed she had prepared herself. She liked nighttime best. Nobody watching her. Nobody telling her what to do. Just quiet. This was the time she could take care of her home. But lately, she just wanted to sleep. That feeling in her belly was there again. Sometimes it tickled her, but this time it really hurt. The pressure from the pain was too much, and she tried to push it away. The next she knew, they were there. Four little blind ones. Squealing, and squirming and screaming. Be quiet, she thought, I'm used to having my peace. She approached them, and moved the dirt that covered them, and they latched on. She was able to quiet them. They all slept.

They stayed together, and she realized that this was her calling. This was the reason she was here. She'd make sure to care for them during the day, and at night she would run her errands and bring food home. They would sleep peacefully, and would be safe here in this warm cozy home she was so lucky to find.

They grew so fast. Soon she saw that they looked like her. They liked to cuddle and play. But her favorite thing was to just watch them sleep. They were her world. When her chest became swollen and sore, they would relieve her discomfort, with their sweet suckling.

She was happy, for no one bothered them here. She sometimes heard odd sounds of others chirping away, but in here, it was private. No one could bother them here.

The loud noise shocked her as she fed them that night. This wasn't one of the normal sounds she was used to hearing. This one was closer. She looked up to see him make his way into her home. "No", she thought, "I don't have anything here for you." She screamed, so loudly and fully that she surprised herself with its resonance. As he came closer, she panicked, "you will not hurt my family." She lunged at him , without hesitance, without really thinking about the ramifications. This was her home, these were her children. They will be safe. They will live happy and full lives, and no intruder has the right to take that away from them.

She scratched him first. A long deep scratch along the right side of his face. The shock in his eyes frightened her, and for a moment, she felt sorry for him. The smallest baby whined and she once again was filled with rage. She moved so fast, and with such fury, she didn't give him much of a chance to fight back. She continued to scratch and pull and bite. He moaned and cried for mercy, and finally he was still. He was alive, but so battered, he couldn't move. She slowly walked away from him as he cried for her help and went back to her babies. They snuggled right into her breast and began to feed. She was completely worn out emotionally, but hardly injured. Her babies warm bodies gave her comfort. She fell asleep to the sound of his dying moans.

She awoke in the daylight and to see another visitor come in from the basement of her home. She was so sore and groggy that she didn't react swiftly to this new intruder. He looked around for a moment and then disappeared. Her once safe and private home now felt like a place she could no longer be happy. She tucked her children safely in their beds, and she set off to find a new place to live. She searched and searched for somewhere warm and dry, and finally settled on a fixer upper not too far from where they were currently living. Her spirit lifted, and she was looking forward to telling them the good news that they were going to have a fresh start.

She gleefully climbed up her stairs to her front door, thinking about how happy they were going to be in their new home. As she went to open the door she suddenly heard a loud "SNAP", and then she could no longer move. She couldn't remove her body from the cage that surrounded her. She thrashed along the sides, she scratched at the cold metal walls, she wailed and hissed and screamed, but she was stuck. Her breasts were filling with milk and she knew that her babies were hungry, but she was helpless. She finally fell asleep with the cold metal under her body and her babies' chattering in her mind.

As the sun came up, she heard jubilant voices and activity down below. That moment when she woke up, she had forgotten about her current predicament, and wondered what all the excitement was about. From her high perch, she looked below and saw a group of people, mostly very young, staring up at... her. The realization that she was the source of this excitement made her want to hurt them all.

Soon, she was taken away from her house. Thrown unceremoniously into a hot and smelly trunk. Her chest was so full with milk that when she landed she cried out in pain. And then she was taken away. "Who would take care of my babies?" she thought, "Nobody knows that they are there. How will they eat? How will they bathe? How will they ever grow up without me?" She refused to entertain the thought that they would surely not survive without their mommy.

She was never the same after that spring. She lived a long life in a new place, but stayed to herself, running her errands at night and sleeping throughout the day. She thought about those babies constantly. She would pretend that they weren't dead, as she knew they must be. Instead she lived in a world of fantasy, creating wonderful, fulfilling lives for her children in her mind. She would never forget them, nor would she forget the place that was her first home.





THIS STORY IS DEDICATED TO ITS HEROINE, THE RACCOON THAT NESTED IN MY ATTIC. WHAT SHE NEVER KNEW IS THAT HER FOUR BABIES WERE RESCUED THE VERY NEXT DAY. THEY WERE TAKEN TO AN ANIMAL RESERVE WHERE THEY WERE RAISED. WE EXPECT THAT THEY WILL LIVE LONG AND HAPPY LIVES.




Forgive me for this odd and poorly written short story. We've had a lot of raccoon excitement in the house, after discovering last week that a mommy and babies were nesting in our attic.

Since having had her removed, I cannot stop thinking about her and what she might be going through. I had to write the story to clear it from my head.

xxoo....(now, i can finally fall asleep)

R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

We went to the orthodontist today, "an emergency" visit to repair a broken bracket. I love these visits (I better, with $9,000. worth of bills hanging over my head) because they have THE BEST magazines in the waiting room. Come to think of it, with the cash flowing through this office, they should be giving pedicures and serving lattes...

Magazine reading isn't something I get to do often. It's a treat and a luxury. So I eagerly step in to Dr. S and J's office, quickly rifle through the stacks for interesting magazines I haven't yet seen, plop myself in a chair and bury my head in delicious peace.

I would like to say I found an interesting article, but truthfully, I believe this particular article found me. It was entitled "Who's in Charge Here " - and illustrated with an image of a mom being dwarfed by her little girl. A quiz was included, to ascertain whether or not the reader acted as a parent...or a friend.

Of course, I thought, "I'm no friend, I'm the mom. I'm the boss."

• "Is it more important for your child to like you or respect you?" Um, a little of both???
• "Do you like the same music?" Well, so what? I'm youthful and fun.
• "Do you confide in your child?" Well, not really; but last night I did tell her a juicy piece of gossip...(okay, I was tired and used poor judgment; and no, I'm not going to share that gossip here)
• "Do you punish your child and then later give them a little treat, to soften the blow?" Oh boy. Guilty as charged. Really guilty.

I'm a softy. I don't like to make waves. I don't like disharmony. So I placate, calm and smooth, much like my flat iron smooths the kinks out of my hair. The problem is, the kinks will always come back, and the iron will eventually damage my hair. Much like my flat iron, my actions are a temporary fix, but larger problems will most definitely ensue.

One of my girls tested me tonight. And I acted immediately. Privileges were taken away, and I firmly and calmly made my point. Her tactics tested but didn't soften my resolve. Anger, tears, apologies, even charming smiles were sent my way to convince me to reinstate her computer and cell phone access.

Then, I spoke. It wasn't easy, and it didn't feel natural. But I told her the following:

I AM NOT YOUR FRIEND. I AM YOUR MOTHER. IT DOESN'T MATTER TO ME THAT YOU ARE ANGRY, BECAUSE YOU NEED TO LEARN TO RESPECT...YOUR PARENTS, YOUR TEACHERS AND MOST OF ALL YOURSELF. I DON'T CARE THAT YOU CAN'T GO ON YOUR MYSPACE, AND IT DOES NOT MATTER THAT YOU CANNOT POST AN "AWAY MESSAGE" ON YOUR AIM. INSTEAD, YOU CAN SIT AND THINK ABOUT WHAT DRIVES ME TO TAKE AWAY THESE PRIVILEGES, AND HOW YOU CAN AVOID THIS IN THE FUTURE.

I very much care what people think about me. I want people to think of me as kind, loving and fun. But I think I've made the mistake of putting my children into this general category of "people". Of course, I recognize they are people. Beautiful, smart, adorable, fun and energetic people. But I am the mother. I am the grown-up. And it's okay for my kids to NOT like me now and then.

I recently participated in a family workshop at our synagogue with my oldest. The subject this month was the holiday of Shavuot, which celebrates Moses' receiving the Ten Commandments. The wonderful instructor likened G-d's commandments to parental rules. A very bright and astute 13 year old girl understood. She said, because of the rules in her home, it gives her a sense of security and love. G-d has given us these commandments to give us that same sense of security and love.

I believe it was "beshert"(meant to be) that this article found me today. I will remember its lesson now and in the foreseeable future, as I parent teens. I hope she'll always love me, because I'll love her (all of them, in fact) forever; but I also hope that once in a while, she won't like me very much. And maybe one day, when she's all grown up, I'll be lucky enough to finally graduate from being her mother and her disciplinarian to just being her mother and, if I'm very lucky...her friend as well.

American Idol is Not for Kids

I am sitting alone on my couch watching the American Idol. I'm completely obsessed with it. When the girls were younger, we would all watch together, and even bicker over who to vote for. Now, 6 years later, they simply don't care at all. Sydney's busy on the computer, Hayley's upstairs, probably talking on her cell, and Addie's busy with another art project.

Am I really the target audience for American Idol? Why is it, that the kids are so disinterested while a middle aged woman (and most of my friends, for that matter) are so eager not to miss a minute? I'm pretty sure, I'm not what they had in mind when they first conceived of the show.

How did I become an undesirable demographic? I swear I thought I'd never be this age. Not that 43 is "so old", but when they start making a big deal about people who are younger than me turning forty, I realize, my ship has sailed!! I already have old people health issues, like high cholesterol. I have hair that needs to be dyed every six weeks or my gray roots make me look skunk-like. And I'm now using the beauty products labeled for "mature skin".

What I remember every day, but I think my daughters couldn't possibly understand, is that I don't feel like I've changed much at all since I was 14. A little more self-confidence and quite a few more pounds, but I look in the mirror and I still see a little girl.

Have you ever met a stranger, who you think must be older than you, and then you come to find out that they are actually 4 years younger? Or, at a high school reunion, do you see old friends and swear, they haven't really changed? When we see strangers, we label them based on their appearance, but with people we know, we see just...them.

I'm sure what people see is a middle aged suburban, soccer mom, but if they really knew me, they'd see a playful, silly, fun-loving, good humored girlie girl. It's all in your perspective.












MATURE MOM V S. GIRLIE GIRL


P.S. VOTE FOR BLAKE :)

One more thing I did this week

Exhausted

Sometimes I get on myself for being lazy. As soon as I take a few minutes of "me" time, I feel the guilt slithering in like a snake about to strangle its prey. But today, I'm physically and mentally spent. As a mom, and I'm sure I'm not the only one, we don't get a lot of time to just "chill". In the past week, I have:

• Hosted a party for 20 people
• Given 8 people birthday gifts
• 4 people mothers day gifts
• Eaten a lot of birthday cake
• Been a hairstylist (i'm a genious with a flat iron)
• Many loads of laundry (but never enough)
• been to the supermarket 4 times
• had a dead raccoon removed from the closet
• celebrated 3 birthday dinners
• dealt with 4 teenage melt-downs
• picked up and dropped off at 8 times at our synagogue
• conference call with the Cantor regarding Bat Mitzvah
• had lots quality time with my family
• did graphic design for stickers and t-shirts related to my business
• cried twice
• found one of my missing Crocs,(thanks to one daughter who cleaned up but throwing it in the bottom of a bag in the bottom of a never used closet)but can't find the other
• Spent 4 hours out of state to picking up leftovers from a recent Camp Snuggly Event
• Spent 14 hours on Saturday working at another Camp Snuggly Event
• Participated in a hebrew school program with my oldest
• Had about 12 kids visiting my yard, now that the Trampoline is in place
• Had countless other children hanging out at the house
• Made 6 jugs of lemonade in one day
• Accompanied one daughter to Storybook Land
• Bathed someone else's child
• Had 2 guidance counselor conferences
• Prepared and cleaned up dinner and desert for 9 girls ages 5 to 13
• Refereed 7 fights
• Started my blog!

Well, I know its not earth shattering. But every once in a while, I need to remind myself that I'm not a slacker. So if no one else is going to pat me on the back, I am going to take this opportunity to do so.

Good for me. And good for every mom. (Waiting mommy's too!)