Anatomy of a Playdate

Posted on June 25, 2012 | 6 Comments

I came home today to find my son’s cousins have come over to play for the afternoon. With my son suitably entertained for the time being and my husband on kid patrol, I am comfortably ensconced at my desk with a cup of hazelnut coffee and a croissant slathered in Nutella (what else?) and topped with apricot preserves, door tightly shut (should I lock it?), hoping to get some work done.  My husband is supposed to be keeping the kids from killing each other watching the kids but I can hear that they are just about to begin a sword battle and I know that no good can come of this.  When it’s two 11 year olds against a 7 year old (or is it the other way around?) there’s bound to be bloodshed, or tears at least.

“Ow, that hurts!” I hear one of them cry out, I can’t tell which one.  I don’t hear my husband.  I hear the playing continue.  I hear a little body slamming, some running, jumping, banging, yelping and more sword clanging.  Still no husband.   I wonder if he’s fallen asleep on the couch.  I refuse to get up and check to see what’s going on.  I refuse to let my coffee get cold, and I’ve only eaten half my croissant.

I sit and listen, trying to discern whose voice is whose.  I hear some yelling, but can’t really make out what they’re saying. . . Uh  oh.  Now it’s quiet.  Too quiet.  I start to push back my chair. . .

Now they’re laughing.  Laughing is good, right?  Unless they’ve found something inappropriate on the internet (is that why they were so quiet?) and are now cackling hysterically over something that’s really funny or that they don’t understand – or both.

Good.  The sword clanging has resumed.  “I’m not kidding!  Stop!  Stop it!!” one of them bellows.  Still no reaction from my husband.  Christ, what is he doing????

I am not getting up.  I can hear feet scurrying.  I hear rapid clicking sounds.  I wonder if my husband’s still in the house.

I take a sip of my coffee – still warm.  And then the crying begins.

It’s the 7 year old.  From what I gather about the melee occurring outside my door, he got pelted between the eyes with a Nerf gun bullet and didn’t like it.  When I came home  I noticed at least five Nerf guns out and enough ammo to take out a small (Lego) village, with the younger one sporting multiple weapons, dispatching foam balls and bullets at the hapless two older kids.  Turnabout is fair play, little man.

“All right guys, that’s it!” I hear my husband parenting (finally!)  He tells one of the kids to put down the shield (?) and for everybody to sit down and watch TV.

It’s quiet again.

I polish off my croissant.  The doorbell rings – it’s the boys’ dad come to pick them up.  I can hear them all talking and saying goodbye.  I don’t move.  I finish this post.  And my coffee.

Photos courtesy of Google Images and Mom Meets Blog

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Boy Meets Aztec Priest

Posted on June 21, 2012 | Leave a comment

These last few weeks of the school year have been a bit hectic, what with the end of year recitals, projects, meetings, and trips, but my favorite part of the whirlwind is when my son came home and announced that he was going to be an Aztec priest and needed a sacrificial knife for his Latin America project.   As the culmination of his Latin America unit, his class was putting on an Ancient Latin American Living Museum, and for extra credit the kids would dress up as Incas, Mayans or Aztecs complete with costumes and artifacts from that time period.

As an Aztec priest, he’s responsible for performing human sacrifices to please the sun god and ensure the sunrise every day, and the sacrificial knife is an integral part of this daily ritual.  As pleased as I am to see him so enthusiastic about a school project and as creative as this idea sounds, I can’t help but think,  ”Now he’s interested in doing extra credit???”  I’d been after him all year to do that extra reading assignment or math homework problems, but I guess it takes crafting an ancient tool used to disembowel human sacrifices to spark him into action.

 Since there are no Aztec sacrificial knife stores in our neighborhood, we set out to Michaels for supplies.  Armed with clay, paint, and mosaic tiles, my son set out to bring history to life.

Here are the photos he used for inspiration to create his knife:

The sculpting process:

The painting process:

Adding colorful mosaics:

Ta-da!

The finished project in class (although I don’t think Aztec priests wore Lego watches!)

Other classes stopped in to interview the kids in their ancient Latin American characters – cute! The white T-shirt and bandana were part of the costume. . .

Part of this project included keeping a notebook detailing different aspects of the ancient Latin American experience, including this “diary entry” about a day in the life of an Aztec priest:

This project was a fun and creative learning experience for the class, as well as being a great way to finish off the school year.   Goodbye, 5th grade; I wonder what 6th grade will bring?

Photos courtesy of Google Images and Mom Meets Blog

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Am I Renewed and Radiant Enough?

Posted on June 1, 2012 | 6 Comments

Has anyone seen the commercials for “Dove ClearTone” deodorant and “Tampax Radiant” tampons?  I caught these commercials on television the other night – I don’t know if they’ve been around awhile or if it’s just the first time I’m seeing them, but the message I got from these two ads was a) my armpits need renewing and b) my tampon is not radiant enough.  And isn’t that just the way with advertising?  To trick us into thinking that what we’re using isn’t good enough/radiant enough/renewing enough and that next new thing will make our lives so much better!

First up is “Dove ClearTone” deodorant.  The ad claims that this product “visibly reduces underarm dark marks for more even-looking skin tone in just 2 weeks”.  I thought those dark marks were just razor stubble and I needed to do a better job of shaving, but apparently shaving is the culprit.  Dove claims that shaving and the resulting dryness of underarm skin causes the offending discoloration; that’s why their product is so vital.  They are daring me to try their product and then bare my “renewed underarms”.  I like to multi-task – can’t I just slather some Regenerist under there when I’m done “renewing” my face and neck, which happen to be way more visible than my armpit skin?  I suppose that Dove’s new product is something of a multi-tasker itself, providing protection against odor and wetness while bleaching my armpits.  I just didn’t know I needed it.  Thanks for the heads up.

And then there’s the “Tampax Radiant” tampon ad.  I wonder what makes them “radiant”?  Do they glow in the dark for easy insertion during a blackout?  I just picture opening the box and being momentarily blinded.  The website states that:

New Tampax Radiant tampons give you an ultimate protection experience like never before! The Radiant tampon features FormFit™ protection that gently expands to fit your unique shape, a LeakGuard™ braid to help stop leaks before they happen, a CleanSeal™ wrapper—the first ever re-sealable wrapper for worry-free disposal—and a CleanGrip™ applicator designed for incredible comfort.

Okay – new, improved, enhanced, redesigned, convenient, revolutionary?  Maybe.  But radiant?  A bride is radiant.  The sun is radiant.  But a tampon is neither shining, luminous or bright.  Although if you’re caught without protection at that critical moment, having a tampon handy would be a pretty brilliant idea, to be sure.  In the commercial the actress utters the tagline “it helps keep my period out of sight, so I can stand out” – while the girls sniffing around her targeted cute guy disappear into sparkly poufs of smoke and some shimmering graphics dance around a tampon (my guess is that’s the radiant part).  Huh?  I guess the secret to getting the guy is using a sparkly tampon – excuse me, a radiant tampon.  I’d still close my eyes when opening the box, just to be safe.

So sorry, marketing mavens, but I’m perfectly happy with the products I currently use (which don’t happen to include either of these brands anyway), so I think I’ll skip the bleached armpits and glittery tampons.  But I did get sucked into buying a can of Kaboom FoamTastic bathroom cleaner today – you know the one that sprays on blue and turns white when clean??  The lure of graffiti tagging the bathtub with a freshly scented blue foam proved too great, and I caved – those advertising gods show no mercy. :)

Photo courtesy of Google Images

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Memorial Day on Main Street

Posted on May 27, 2012 | 1 Comment

These photos were taken at our Memorial Day parade down Main Street on Sunday, May 27, 2012.  This year it was attended by 61 naval personnel along with Rear Admiral Tim Alexander, Commander Navy Region Mid-Atlantic.  It was a wonderful way to pay our respects to our military personnel both past and present and remember those who have made the ultimate sacrifice.

All photos are property of Mom Meets Blog

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The Birds, the Bees & Bye Bye Birdie

Posted on May 24, 2012 | 9 Comments

Last week we went to see the 7th & 8th grade production of Bye Bye Birdie at my son’s middle school.  I am particularly fond of this piece because, back in the day, I was one of the “screaming girls” in my 8th grade’s production of the musical.  I remember how much fun all my friends and I had singing the songs during rehearsals, and how exciting the performances were.  I felt that my son would also enjoy the play because, although it is set in the late 1950s, the themes still ring true today – bewildered parents, their hormone driven teenagers, and the maniacal worship of teen idols (paging Justin Bieber – or is it One Direction now?  Kids!).  My son absolutely roared with laughter at one point when, during a frustrating encounter with his children, the Harry MacAfee character sputters, “I didn’t know what puberty was until I was almost past it!”  I think he found that funny because there’s been so much puberty talk at school lately (it’s one of the units of study this semester) that he couldn’t imagine anyone actually missing it!

As I was helping my son study for a test on that subject one evening, I could tell by my husband’s bemused expression that, like Harry MacAfee, he didn’t quite know what to make of it all.  Certainly our respective parents never quizzed us on the term for “the spurting out of semen from the penis” or the name of “the entire outside genital area of a female”.  In my experience, “the period talk” consisted of receiving an informative book and a box of pads courtesy of Kimberly-Clark, and where babies came from (and how they got there in the first place) was not a topic parents discussed with their children.  But there I sat, discussing testicles, vaginas, and nocturnal emissions with my son as though we were chatting about what he had for lunch in the cafeteria that afternoon, while my husband busied himself in the kitchen so as not to get involved disturb us.  I knew he felt uncomfortable, but he would have to get over that, and fast.

I will say that talking about puberty and the changes that both boys’ and girls’ bodies undergo in such a matter-of-fact way has so normalized this conversation that I feel it has opened the door for a kind of closeness that I’m sure many of us didn’t experience with our folks when we were growing up.  I want my son to know that he can talk to me about this or anything else that comes his way.  I certainly welcome and feel very comfortable with this new chapter in our relationship.  I remember reading about a Details  magazine article where The Avengers  star Chris Evans revealed that his mom was the first person he told when he lost his virginity.  I wonder if I will be privy to that information.  I mean, the kid just gave me a surprisingly accurate explanation of the process of menstruation and he’s figured out why mommy has a “stomachache” every month, so I guess anything is possible.

While I was making breakfast on the morning of the test, my son asked my husband to quiz him on the material one last time.  I held my breath for a second to see if he was going to lob this one over to me or whether he would bite the bullet and jump on the puberty bandwagon.  Without skipping a beat my husband said “Sure” and they sat down together for a final review.  And with that we all entered a brave new world.

Oh, and the test?  My son came home proudly waving it around yesterday.  He got a 95.  :)

Check out “What’s the Matter with Kids Today” from the 1963 film version of Bye Bye Birdie

Photos courtesy of Wikipedia and Barnes & Noble

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And the Beautiful Blogger Award Goes to. . .

Posted on May 16, 2012 | 8 Comments

Me!  I am certainly enjoying an embarrassment of riches lately!  Just last month I thoroughly enjoyed a game of blog tag initiated by the engaging Kathy Lashley, and the now I have been nominated by the lovely What Jane Read Next for the Beautiful Blogger Award!  I picture myself gliding across the stage in an elegant Marchesa gown to accept my award, which is a glittering Swarovski crystal laptop (jeez, this thing is heavy) as the crowd shouts out my name – “Mom? Mom??  MOM!!”  Oh wait, that’s my son. . . well, back to reality!

The rules of this game are simple: share seven things about yourself and then nominate seven other bloggers.

First, I’ll share:

  •  I love action movies – Transformers, Mission Impossible, Die Hard – anything with heroes, villains, explosions, aliens, totally improbable plot lines, etc., and I’m in.
  • My favorite flower is the peony, and they’re in season right now. Their lush blooms and delicate scent are so evocative of spring for me.

  • I don’t like getting manicures; I’d rather do it myself.  But I would get a pedicure every day of the week if I could.  Go figure.
  •  Unlike What Jane Read Next, I love listening to the Gotye song “Somebody That I Used to Know” precisely because it reminds me of somebody that I used to know.
  •  My favorite place to be is the beach, and I would love to have a house by the ocean someday.
  •  Last summer when I went to Rome on vacation, I fell in love with burrata, a delicious cheese that originates from Puglia – delizioso!

  •  It is very unfortunate that I am allergic to both dogs and cats, (I had to take my son to the allergist with me so the doctor could explain it to him because he wouldn’t believe me) so we have fish – sometimes.

 Now, the nominations for the Beautiful Blogger Award go to:

I look forward to learning more about these great bloggers and thanks again to What Jane Read Next for thinking of me!

Photos courtesy of theKitchn.com and Google Images

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Fifty Shades of Nutella

Posted on May 9, 2012 | 20 Comments

I’m standing at the kitchen counter about to start dinner.  I open the cabinet to round up the ingredients for this evening’s meal and I see it, that seemingly innocent white-lidded jar, beckoning my attention.  I look away and continue gathering my supplies, but its call is too great to ignore.  I remove the Nutella  from the cabinet and slowly twist off its lid.  I open the drawer below and remove a spoon.  I put  the jar on the counter and hold it in place with one hand as I dip the spoon into the jar with the other, its contents yielding against the touch of the stainless steel.  I raise the spoon to my lips, closing my eyes and inhaling its familiar, delicate fragrance.  As it finds its way into my mouth, this intoxicating concoction slides off the spoon and onto my tongue, enveloping it like a silky blanket, the hint of hazelnut providing the perfect counterpoint to the smooth, velvety chocolate.  I open my eyes and, staring into the cabinet, inspiration strikes – dare I take out the peanut butter?  My taste buds shiver at the thought.  No, I decide as my inner goddess pouts, that’s too much for now.  “Perhaps another time”, I can almost hear the peanut butter grinning salaciously.  I plunge the spoon into the jar again and again, greedily devouring the Nutella like a . . .

A small voice shakes me out of my reverie.  “Is dinner almost ready?” my son calls out from the living room.  I look down sheepishly at the jar and realize I’ve just consumed 600 calories worth of Nutella and we haven’t even had dinner yet.  I put the jar down and knot my fingers on the counter, chastising myself for my loss of control.  As I bite my lower lip, my subconscious smirks at me over her half-moon specs and clucks “A moment on the lips, no matter how sweet, a lifetime on the hips.”

I roll my eyes at her and angrily throw the spoon into the sink.  I shove the jar back in the cabinet, vowing to never lose control like that again (at least until the next time I open the cabinet).  Oh Nutella, you are a cruel master. . .

Photos courtesy of Pinterest and nutellachocolate.com

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