Kids These Days

In the last week I have been informed of two separate incidents involving two separate friends' adolescent children. These stories frighten me to the core. It's not unlike the roller coaster hill. Once you hit mid hill there is no stopping that ride. You knew what was coming. You know it is gonna be downright scary. The difference between that stupid decision vs. deciding to have children is that the having kids one is not the "scare-you-get-the-adrenalin-going-turning-into-actual-fun" type of fright. It's more the "mortified-didn't-see-this-coming-scared-for-their-future-never-even-seeming-funny-until-they-have-kids-of-their-own" type thing.

The first escapade I learned of was a friend's son planning to try chewing tobacco. The boy and his compadres hatched their elaborate plan via text messages. Not foolproof to say the least. Upon discovering the intentions of his son the son's father went the old school route of lessons. He sat the kid down with several different varieties of dip and a bucket and said,"Let's do this. Go at it, buddy." I may be improvising the actual dialogue but this is what I imagine. The boy did not follow through but all in all I would vote yes for effectiveness on this one.

The next story was a friend's high school daughter being suspended from school for sucking face with her beau under the stairwell. She is not sure what course of action to take with this. I mentioned the above method to her but after brief discussion we both agreed --probably not a good idea. I had no words of wisdom for her. The thing with both of these incidents is I think I would find it very difficult to forget when I was that age. I fear I could not meaningfully apply any consequence I could come up with.

I recall after the summer of 8th grade (maybe even earlier) following a couple of friends to the woods near one of our homes. One person had a cigarette. I was terrified of getting into trouble so I abstained. But it happened. And I wasn't shocked that it was happening. Not much later in life my friend and I went to our first concert. The Kinks. Yeah, that's right. I said it. At Vets Memorial no less. We BOUGHT a cigarette from some man. Very intentional. The worst part is we thought is was pot. Kinda blows the intending to try chew out of the water.

As for the making out part...lord, how we tried. My friend and I were discussing her daughter and laughing because we remember having crushes and wanting to have boyfriends. Luckily for my folks though I had porked out and boys in the 80's really were not into fat chicks. I mean not as much as they are today. At any rate, maybe I didn't long to make out under the stairs at school but a date to the school dance would've been absolutely dreamy.

I know. I know. Someone has to be the adult. Someone has to guide them through their mistakes but I'm not sure I'm the one for the job. In the meantime I will watch for how my friends' handle this stuff and take as many notes as possible.

Slowly turning 41

This weekend I welcomed in the end of another year alive with another half marathon. I do love running but I do hate these races. It isn't the distance but rather the going downtown, parking, waiting, freezing and I guess also the paying part. At the end of the race runners are provided with donuts, bagels, drinks, bananas, medals and this year fleece hats. People were like, "Oh my gosh! I can't believe these things are free!" I like to remind myself that it is more accurate to say "included in the price."

I got through it with a little under an 11 minute mile time which is the slowest I have ever done in a half but what are ya gonna do? My fastest really isn't much faster. I realize I still love running but it is that paying for it part that I don't like. There is one hidden beauty of races such as these -- the people.

The unbelievable variation of human beings who come out to run an insanely long (1/2 marathon) or super insanely long race (marathon). If you've never run one or even seen one the picture in your head may be only one that you have fashioned from the svelte neighbors you know who run in all nike and matching gear or from the coverage on TV of the Kenyan speed mobiles. My image before I knew it first hand was mostly of in shape, athletically dressed people with an average age of 40. That is why it took me so long in life to give it a try. I wouldn't fit in.

The truth is you can find every single body type, a range of ages well into seniors, ill fitting, non matching, even some costumes for clothing. It is incredible to be solidly beaten by a 60 year old overweight grandma after training for weeks. It is incredibly gratifying to zip by the gorgeous twenty something, in-shape-looking young college man. It is simply incredible to see the "kenyans" whiz by mile 11 less than an hour into the marathon. All in all, it is an affirming event. Every time I learn something new about myself and others.

This year I am happy to be turning 41 and still running. I am glad my self punishing has switched from excessive weekly drinking and smoking to biannually paying someone so I can run big circles really far around the downtown area and be timed while doing so. Happy Birthday to me.

Too funny to pass up (thanks, Pdawg)

Sell the Vatican Save the World

Confessions of a Make Believe Mom

Okay, so here goes. Time to get real. I am a mother, a wife, a daughter and a friend. The order of these things matters little because at this moment I am all at once regardless of which came first or weighs more heavily. I have three children. I am divorced. I am remarried. I have lost a child. I have had some things happen in my life that one might think would give me some insight, some perspective and maybe even some wisdom. I feel like I should be able to look at any given situation and in the very least size it up as "not the worst thing that has happened to me" and then move on accordingly with totally inspired and appropriate actions and reactions. Not so.

My confession is this -- I have no frickin idea what I am doing. I am totally making this up as I go along. I, ahole on a PC, am a total fraud. There, I said it. This thought has come and gone often throughout my supposed "adult" years but it swept over me like an eerie transmedium psychic experience a few days ago. Think Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost when Patrick Swayze jumps into her body. Everything is very fuzzy, I feel woozy and I do believe if anyone had been looking at me my body would have looked like an image in a funhouse mirror. That particular moment of realization, what dear Oprah would call a "lightbulb" moment (only in this one the bulb shatters in my hand while the shards spray my eyeballs) was followed with a need to check with GTC. I asked, "Do you ever feel like you aren't really an adult? Like you're just in some sort of make believe world and just hoping no one can see it? Like you're not really an adult at all and the kids, this house, all of it is just some weird fantasy?" He did his best to reassure me with, " Yeah, all the time." This did not reassure me. His answer came too fast and confidently. I continued to wonder.

Yesterday afternoon my suspicions were confirmed unequivocally. Call it a sign from god or from the mother ship but this could not be mistaken. Tell me more, you say. Well, ok, I will sum it up for you. I took my kids to the doctor's office for check ups, flu mists and unbeknownst to me until just after the check up -- a SHOT. That's right. A shot. Needle and all. My kids are terrified of this. I can't figure out why really. The not so nice nurse brings in a needle and a band aid into the tile laden, cold room and shoves it their arm, slaps on the band aid and walks out. Smiling is not in the manual I guess. Anyway, yesterday this went very badly. Very, very badly. I cannot emphasize how much of an understatement that is. At the same time I cannot recount it for you here because it is still too painful and fresh for me and I didn't even get the damn shot. If I could have avoided yesterday's scene by taking a 12 inch needle under my fingernail I would have done so. In fact, I may do that today just to dull the memory.

What sticks with me about the entire event is my reaction to all of it. I have spent the better part of the last 16 hours beating the pulp out of myself for not handling this better. I could have asked for a moment, I could have rescheduled the shot, I could have NOT been angry at my kids when it was all done. None of the above were the inspired and appropriate actions that I chose. I didn't beat them which is really a plus but at the same time I keep thinking why should I be mad at them? My job is to help them feel safe and secure and I failed monumentally yesterday.

I can't seem to wrap my brain around it all just yet but I do know this -- next time it will not be "nurse or doctor knows best." Next time in whatever situation I find myself in I believe I would do well to remember the feeling of make believe and embrace it. I believe I will truly reach that elevated "adult" status once I accept that I don't have all the answers, that sometimes I will fail and that shots suck every time no matter one's age. I also need to realize that I won't find my answers in a book about Touchpoints, The Strong Willed Child, 1-2-3 Magic or How To Talk To Kids So They Will Listen. I will try to remember that I should take neither credit nor blame in most parental situations. I will make it a point to never ever look down my nose in judgment at another parent for some behavior their child may exhibit and erroneously believe "my kids would never do that" or worse yet "I would never let my kids do that." It is ALL a complete and total crapshoot. That does not absolve me of any parental or grown up responsibility it just gives me a larger range of motion for the choices I make. It allows me to realize I may actually know nothing but it's the same nothing that every other person knows.

EAT A CHEESEBURGER TODAY

This is a digitally altered image in a catalog that has caused an uproar. Have to say I agree with the critics on this one. The first thought when I see this is, "Ew, what is wrong with that woman?" The next thought is a firm commitment to never buy Lauren again. Okay, so that isn't so hard for a person who shops at Target, Kohl's and Old Navy and possibly may never have owned any Lauren. Still. My mind can only associate Lauren with ridiculously ill people wearing overpriced clothes. The thought briefly crossed my mind that maybe the photo was not altered which is the uber scary thought in this instance. I am pretty much the closet activist meaning I make the excuse that I'm sorta busy and live and let live and I use my secret little blog to rage my quiet wars but I declare I will do something about this! I declare today "Eat a Cheeseburger Day!" Who's with me? C'mon!

OMG. SEND HELP. I think we're in trouble.

Just for fun and sheer boredom and to avoid cleaning things that probably need cleaning I decided to follow the CNN link that listed 2009's 49 Most Influential Men (apparently they could not find 50). After clicking on number 49 and seeing Lance Armstrong I kept clicking. At number 48 I was stumped. Who in the hell is Jenson Button? No frickin idea. Now things were getting amusing so for more fun I decided to continue to peruse the list while challenging myself to attempt to recognize only the face of the person. If I could not do that then I glanced at the name. If I was still in the dark I chuckled to myself and moved on. All in all I would say I recognized by sight about 5 - 10 of the men on the list. I recognized a few more names beyond that. Talk about influential. Whew.

Blow me away with what must be some very insidious influence seeing as I have no idea who most of you are and what most of you do. Even after reading a bit about you the neon question mark still lingered above my head. Just exactly what kind of influence are we talking about here? This leaves me a bit perplexed and more than worried. I don't have much more to say about this until I can find out who in the hell voted Don Draper #1. SERIOUSLY? He is a fictional character for god's sake (and I had to look that up). Role Models. Say it with me. We need some. Men? Any takers?