Buzz-Kill

Even though the winter was long and cold and seemed never-ending, I kind of liked it because it provided a great reason to not have to talk to anyone. There were no afternoons spent at the park, everyone was in a hurry to get into their car and out of the cold and during flu season, no one wanted to get within 25-feet of anyone else unless they were wearing a Hazmat suit.

Now that spring has officially sprung and I hate being in the house when it's nice outside, I find myself dealing with a bunch of people that want to chit-chat, catch-up, be nosy and tell me about themselves and why they're tan and I'm not. Since I like to be organized I tend to put these conversations into categories:

1. Really, really entertaining. Very interesting. Tell me more about her.
2. You're not annoying. We can be friends.
3. Please stop bragging about yourself. Stop. STOP IT!
4. I'm acting like I care, even though I don't care.
5. If a hawk came swooping down and used it's talons to rip off my face, thereby getting me out of this conversation, it would be worth the sacrifice.
6. Umm, what? I'm sorry. I was listening to my hair grow.
7. Your anger toward life is stressing me out.
8. You're the queen of the backhanded compliment. Let me get your crown.
9. You are not funny. In fact, you're the opposite of funny.
10. You're dumb and you don't like sports. We can't be friends.

The good thing about these conversations is that they eventually end, or I walk away, or they end because I walked away. Sadly, this is not the case when it comes to kids, because with kids it seems that there are some days when the bits of bad news never stop coming, and these bits all fall into one category: buzz-kill.

1. I forgot the _____ at the _______.
2. I think the toilet is plugged.
3. I have to do another science project.
4. I think the Xbox is broken.
5. I forgot to give you this last week. It's from school.
6. My throat is sore/stomach hurts/arm is itchy.
7. The dog just pooped on the floor.
8. You want me to do that now? I was going to do it later.
9. I need to bring a yard of fabric, some beads and an empty soup can to school. When? Oh, I need it by tomorrow.
10. What's for breakfast? Oh...

It's not like when I hear these things I instantly regret voluntarily having sex without birth control, and if I had to choose then I guess I would rather deal with a plugged toilet every day than listen to a riveting debate about public vs. private schools with another mom while her nanny helps her kid on the monkey bars. And I would rather deal with both of these things simultaneously than get to the front of the line at a bar and be told "Sorry, but we're all out of beer," which is what happened at the Twins game last week. I'm still recovering from that one.

I'm not expecting everything I hear from my kids to be on the same level of awesomeness as "Why yes, Mrs. Adkins. Of course those shoes come in a wide width," but COME ON KID! Figure out that maybe you don't need so much toilet paper, the dog is old and can't hold it for very long so he needs to go out NOW and once in a while, not every time because I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, be happy in the morning and eat the damn breakfast.

Good Luck With That

Whenever Zoe brings home the elementary school's monthly newsletter I always make sure to read it because even though I try to avoid the Volunteer Coordinator and I'm not the President of PTO, I like to be informed of what's going on. As usual, April's newsletter wasn't very interesting and didn't include any gossip, but I did manage to learn a few things:

• There is a theme for volunteering this year: Volunteers Shape the Future. They don't specify whether the shape is a triangle, rectangle, circle or dodecahedron.
• Like it or not, standardized testing in the form of MCA-II's will be in a couple weeks, so please don't feed your kid Fruit Loops, a Pop Tart and Mountain Dew for breakfast that day.
• Physical fitness testing is taking place in phy-ed. This will prove, once again, that there are some kids that eat too many fries with their serving of ketchup.
• The position of Vice President is available on the PTO Board. This is tempting, and I think I'll consider it. Okay...the answer is no.
• Our school district is incorporating Efficacious Learners Framework (ELF) into their curriculum. Yeah, I said "ELF. What the fuck is that?" too.

Apparently, the school district has realized that even though there are a lot of kids that can simplify polynomials, label the countries of Africa and ace a spelling test, these kids kind of suck at things like being able to independently find a solution to an everyday problem using common sense and logic. Kind of like my kids.

ELF includes "five traits that have been labeled as important for life-long learning and success." After reading about the five traits, I think that school officials should have taken the time to become acquainted with my kids before they declared themselves truly "committed to enhancing these traits in your children."

1. Problem Solvers...identify problems, evaluate multiple solutions, reflect and revise, persist. Five words: dog shit. On the floor.
2. Resourceful Learners...inquisitive, innovative, critical thinkers. Charlie gets a small amount of credit here because he seems to have finally learned that if he sees that the garbage is full, it should be taken out. Imagine my shock when I saw him yank the bag out of the can without me asking! He lost points, though, by not tying the top of the bag shut. (Remember, I'm anal.) When I pointed out this fact, he glared at me, instantly lost the use of all fine motor skills, his hands morphed into inflexible hunks of flesh and after fumbling with the red plastic drawstring for fifteen seconds he said "I don't think this bag is supposed to tie." Maybe he's right. Maybe those drawstrings on the top of the bag are actually there so you can strangle your child when he's a smart ass.
3. Self-directed Learners...flexible, goal directed, optimistic, persistent. As much as I'd like to forget the disastrous day at the grocery store involving two boys and their search for Capri Suns, I don't think I'll ever be able to.
4. Responsible Leaders...honest, reflective, accountable to self and others, willing to lead. I'm patiently waiting for the day when a kid steps forward and admits fault, sincerely apologizes to the person they wronged, accepts an appropriate punishment and doesn't try to blame their blunder on someone else. And note to satan for when that day arrives: The North Face makes really warm coats.
5. Skilled Communicators...effective listeners, able to clearly articulate ideas, visually literate. Mom, I need these papers stapled together. Okay, go get the stapler. Where is the stapler? Over there. Over where? Over there, in that cabinet where it's been for the last ten years. I don't see it, just tell me where it is. How can you not see it, it's ten-inches in front of your face. Where? RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF YOU! All I see is tape, and I don't need the tape, I need the stapler. Yes, I know, the stapler is next to the tape. No that's paper. (stomp stomp stomp - grab stapler - manage to not staple kid's lips shut) Here. Is. The. Stapler. Oh, why didn't you say it was by the tape?

So, as the elementary school staff works hard to incorporate these traits into their curriculum in an attempt to encourage self-efficacy in my kids, I just have one bit of advice for them: The Kirkland-brand tequila sold at Costco is surprisingly drinkable.

Happily Together

Even though my husband is responsible for getting me pregnant which resulted in us having kids, I still love him and I love being married to him. He's generous, smart, crazy funny and as an added bonus, he doesn't golf. Also, he never minds when I go out with friends because he knows I always come back with stories about insane people, or more accurately, stories about insane single guys.

One of my best girlfriends is single, or at least used to be single before she recently started dating someone. She had a crazy-busy life with two kids and a job before she met this guy-that-doesn't-make-her-want-to-chop-her-head-off, so now that she has added a boyfriend into her schedule, I don't see her nearly enough. But that's okay, since: A) We don't always have to catch up over drinks, because (even though it's not as much fun) there's always email or a phone call, and B) Every girl needs to get laid once in a while.

Anyway, when we find the time to go out we always have fun bitching about things and laughing at people. Inevitably, at some point in the evening, a weird guy or three attempts to strike up a witty conversation, only to fail miserably. Since my friend is remarkably easy on the eyes and doesn't wear a wedding ring, a large majority of the pointless chit-chat is aimed in her direction and I am more than happy to fulfill the role of "overly-suspicious married girl who will glare and give every guy the third-degree." During these happy hours, we have heard the most bizarre lines imaginable:

• Do you like banana cream pie? I have some banana cream pie.
• Do you know a good place to go salsa dancing?
• You kind of look like a mom. How many kids do you have?
• I like it when a girl doesn't dress slutty.
• That was neat how you used your ponytail to get that bug off of your back.
• Your shoes are interesting.
• So what is it that you do, anyway? Oh, you have kids. So, what is it that you do all day, anyway?

Last week I was lucky enough to be able to take the kids to the first pre-season Twins game at Target Field and all of the fans were in a great mood. Since the game was on a Friday evening, I was expecting to be entertained by groups of beer-drinking guys enjoying an outdoor baseball game. Instead, I spent 20 minutes listening to a pissed off married couple standing behind me in the slowest-moving concession stand line to ever exist.

They were loudly discussing a party and what they were going to bring, what time they were going to get there and who else was going to be there. The conversation escalated into her snapping at him, then he snapped at her, then she said stop being an asshole, and he said well then stop acting pissy, then she said fuck off, and he said wow this is fun, I need a beer. I, of course, minded my own business by turning around slowly and giving them an "Excuse me dumb shits, but everyone can hear you so shut the fuck up" look.

Sometimes I have to remind myself that even though my job isn't glamorous and I don't go to nightclubs every weekend and I've been married to the same person for over 16 years, my life is pretty great because I don't have to look glamorous and I don't have to deal with stupid pick-up lines at nightclubs every weekend and I've been lucky enough to be married to the same person for over 16 years. A person that is nice to me, respects me, knows that I hate banana cream pie, isn't afraid to laugh at me and knows to never accuse me of acting pissy. At least not while we're in public.

I'm Eating WHAT For Dinner?

I know that there are people that love to cook, experiment with recipes, try new ingredients and spend hours in the kitchen. These are the kind of people that own a bottle of white truffle oil, are able to keep a sauce at a low simmer, can quickly dice carrots without losing a finger and aren't intimidated when it comes to preparing a whole fish. I am not one of those people. I do, however, read nutrition labels, have eliminated trans fats from our house, make sure that fresh produce is in the fridge, would rather make dinner than eat out (unless someone says "let's go out,") and am usually able to serve something edible in about 20 minutes. But do I actually enjoy cooking? Usually, no.

Some people are able to plan a week's worth of meals, shop only once (with coupons) and even manage to use all of the leftovers in creative and appetizing ways. I, on the other hand, have arrived home from the grocery store with produce, crackers, bread and tonic and, although I'm tempted to try, I don't think it's possible to make dinner-for-five out of strawberries and Wheat Thins. At least I usually have a few pork chops or a pound of ground beef that can be whipped up into something delicious, if they weren't in the freezer.

Fortunately, none of my kids are very picky about what they eat so making dinner is rarely a complete pain in the ass. Actually, now that I think about it, it could be that some of them are pretty high maintenance, but since I've been making food for this family for so long I've grown accustomed to the idiosyncrasies and quirks of each person. Ah, who the hell am I kidding -- there are definitely some individualized dietary demands that should be making me insane. In fact, if someone else came to my house and was given the task of cooking for my kids for one week, they would probably run out the door after three days, screaming and bashing themselves on the head with a ladle in an attempt to end the misery.

One kid will eat just about anything and although he likes cheese, he only likes certain kinds and if there's too much cheese than the meal is basically inedible. Another kid doesn't like pepper on anything, likes eggs fried so that the yolk isn't slimy, isn't a big fan of sauce and will skillfully arrange uneaten peas on his plate in an attempt to make the pile seem smaller. Grilled meats are fine, as long as they don't require excessive amounts of chewing. Everyone likes Caesar salad, but it can't have too much dressing. They all like fruit, but it can't have blemishes. Casseroles are quick and easy to prepare, but Zoe doesn't like anything that consists of multiple ingredients mushed together. Although it would make life easier, serving a rotation of corn dogs, pancakes and pasta seems a little irresponsible.

So basically, cooking for this family is easy, as long as it's not too saucy, cheesy, mushroomy, spicy, mushy, crunchy, greenish or chewy. Or in other words, I'll admit that sometimes, cooking for this family is a complete pain-in-the-ass.

The Translator

Everyone warned me that this day would arrive. My teenager thinks that I have always been a clueless, bossy, and boring mom. I have obviously never attended junior high, am on a mission to embarrass him when given the opportunity, and an outhouse probably has a better sense of humor since at least it has raunchy jokes written on the walls. He has apparently decided to perfect the snarky comment, and is willing to put in the time and dedication needed to accomplish this task. I would like to survive his teenage years, and Charlie and Zoe's future hormonal imbalances, with some sanity, a healthy liver, and without a daily fight. So from now on, when he says something especially crappy, I'm going to translate the horrid statement into what I think he really meant.

What are you talking about? I'm sorry, but I was too busy thinking about my science test tomorrow. Could you please repeat what you were saying, because I'm sure it's really interesting, and you're super smart.

That was so lame. Although I would have maybe jumped over that puddle differently, you did it with a lot of grace and style.

Thanks for making that unfunny. Thank you for explaining why that joke on the 93X Half Assed Morning Show was funny, because even though I pretended to know what they were talking about, I really had no idea.

Enough already. I really appreciate your concern. I will definitely take your suggestions seriously and think about everything you've said.

Shit. Shit.

It's alright, but not great. Thank you for taking the time to make this delicious meal instead of making me eat cold cereal for dinner. In fact, I'm really lucky because I don't even have to eat cold cereal for breakfast.

Whatever. I got it. I GOT IT! Yes, I know I still have homework left, and I should probably inquire about that missing assignment in math. Thank you for reminding me.

Really? Just. No. Wow, mom, that's a really impressive singing voice/dance move. But maybe you should stop so you don't make everyone else feel inadequate.

I knew you were going to say that. I am accustomed to hearing you repeat yourself, because I never listen the first 137 times.

Please don't get the impression that Zach is anything but a great kid. He gets straight A's in school, plays varsity tennis, never needs to be reminded to practice piano, is an amazing big brother, and most of the time we manage to have pleasant, productive conversations. But he is a teenager, and dealing with this smart-ass attitude is kind of foreign to me. After all, I was never a teenager myself, so I know I was never like this to my mom.