Author Archives: Mom Meets Blog

I Was a Cereal Killer – One Mom’s Cautionary Tale

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What have I done?

I know my 11-year-old son is a competent kid.  He likes to help his dad out at the store and recently our neighbors hired him to look after their cats while they are away on vacation.  He does well in school, is a brown belt in karate, loves to play both classical and pop tunes on the piano, puts his dirty clothes in the hamper (mostly), keeps his room fairly neat, is always up and dressed for school on time, is helpful, polite, and is never ever sick at sea.

So I was a little thrown this morning when I found him looking at a YouTube video on how to make a bowl of cereal (I was kind of relieved, there are worse things to look at on YouTube).  But. . . seriously?? He doesn’t know how to fix a bowl of cereal?  How did that happen?  I looked at the computer screen, fairly surprised that there must be other kids in the same situation judging from the variety of  videos available on this subject.

While I admired his initiative to find an answer to his dilemma (there isn’t anything you can’t learn to do via YouTube – scary) I wondered why he just didn’t ask me to pour him a bowl of cereal.  The truth is, whenever he says “I’m hungry”, I jump like some Pavlovian dog, ready to fix him a snack or get him a drink or start dinner a little earlier.  It’s well known that hearing your baby cry during the early weeks of life can cause a mother’s breasts to leak milk – his call for food just speaks to my primal instinct as a mom to make sure my baby is fed.

But the fact is, he’s not a baby anymore.  He knows where the kitchen is, but thanks to me I realized that it’s a bit of a mystery to him how the food magically appears on a plate or in a bowl.  It became obvious why he didn’t ask for my help.  His quest to figure out how to fix his own breakfast is an assertion of his increasing self-reliance.  He’s letting me know that he’s now capable of fixing his own breakfast/snack/whatever.  Maybe next he’ll let me know that he’s capable of doing his own laundry.

I watched him silently as he fixed his own cereal, poured his own juice and sat down at the table to eat breakfast.  It’s a kitchen, I reminded myself, it’s not like he has to go out and forage for nuts and berries.  I smiled, happy and a little sad that my baby son is becoming more self-sufficient by the minute, before my very eyes.

You know, this could be a very good thing.  I wonder if he can learn to whip up breakfast in bed in time for Mother’s Day?  I’m sure there must be a YouTube video for that. . .

Images courtesy of YouTube and Google Images

The “It” Girl

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Tag, looks like I’m It!  The other day I was “tagged” by the engaging Kathy Lashley.  Turnabout is fair play and now. . .

TAG, YOU’RE IT!

To play, please follow and post these rules:

  • Answer the question the “tagger” listed for you in their post
  • Create 11 new questions for the people you tag to answer
  • Choose 11 people to tag and link to them in the post
  • Let each blogger know that you have tagged them

Kathy’s question for me was, “How’s those tweezers been treating you lately?”  And the answer is that Tweezy and I are still BFFs.  As I lamented in my post “Oh the Hairs on my Chinny, Chin Chin”, I have reached a point on the midlife merry-go-round where chin hair has become a fact of my grooming life and my tweezers are a vital part of that ritual.  Lately it’s become an all-out turf war, and I’m not giving up without a fight.  I can’t stand to see those delinquent whiskers just hanging out there on my chin like street hoods on the local corner, mocking me, daring me to make the first move.  “Do you feel lucky punks. . . well do you???” my inner Clint Eastwood challenges as I reach for my trusty Tweezerman and in a few swift, expert plucks I pop a cap into those bad boys – well, at least until the next growth cycle, and then the gang sweep starts all over again.  Maybe next time I’ll channel The Terminator.

Let’s play Tag Toss Up.  I’ve asked 11 questions and tagged 11 great bloggers.  They can choose to answer any question they wish; also, anyone else reading this post can answer a question if they are so inclined.  Ready?

Here are the tagged:

  1. iliketheworldfuzzy
  2. Laurie J. Long
  3. The Small Investor
  4. Hike. Blog. Love.
  5. help4yourfamily
  6. When the Kids Go to Bed
  7. CarrieLouWho
  8. Truth and Cake
  9. Diary of a Girl Dad
  10. Grammaniac
  11. DENY Designs

And these are the questions:

  1.  What is your best memory from childhood?
  2. If you could eliminate any household chore, what would it be?
  3. What’s your favorite color and how does it make you feel?
  4. How has your life been different from what you’d imagined when you were a child?
  5. Was there a teacher who had a particularly strong influence in your life?
  6. Where would you like to be in 10 years?
  7. What has been the proudest moment in your life so far?
  8. What are you allergic to?
  9. What is your favorite travel destination?
  10. What is your favorite scent/smell?
  11. If you died tomorrow, what would you regret leaving undone?

I look forward to reading some interesting responses.  Thanks to Kathy for asking me to come out and play!

Photo courtesy of Google Images

Welcome to Nike Town!

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Okay, so my 11-year-old son’s feet grew.  A lot.

He’s been wearing the same pair of sneakers for the last 7 months.  I kept asking him if they felt too tight or if he was uncomfortable, and he kept telling me they felt fine.  I’ve offered several times to buy him a new pair of sneakers, but he’s declined.  Being a creature of habit, he likes to wear the same things over and over again, especially his shoes.  Plus, he hates any kind of shopping.  And with the mild winter we’ve had, there was no need to go out and buy new boots, so I hadn’t had his foot measured since the beginning of the school year.

Until today.  He measured in at a size four.  The sneakers he’s been wearing are a size two.  “Why didn’t you tell me your sneakers felt too small?”  I questioned my son.  He just shrugged his shoulders.  “Don’t worry about it,” the clerk at Modell’s said.  “Their old sneakers stretch as their feet grow, he probably didn’t feel any difference.”

Maybe he didn’t feel any difference, but I felt like the most horrible mom on earth.  Who takes their kid’s word for it that their shoes fit?  Who doesn’t get their kid’s foot measured more regularly?  Why don’t I have a Brannock device at home???

We looked around the store for a new pair of sneakers.  I managed to talk him out of a high-top basketball shoe; he doesn’t play basketball and I could hear the complaints that they were bothering his ankles already.  And for the price, I wasn’t taking a chance that it was something he would decide felt uncomfortable in 3 days’ time.  He didn’t see anything he liked, so we headed on over to Foot Locker, with its clerks dressed in striped ref shirts, questionable rap music blaring over the speakers, and boys drooling over the latest overpriced kicks – a pre-teen boy’s footwear mecca.  No more Skechers.  No more Stride Rite.  Straight into Nike town.

And then the sticker shock set in – $65, $85, $100 and more!  Am I that out of touch?  I’d heard the rumors of boys’ sneakers costing as much as a month’s worth of groceries, but I thought that was an urban legend.  These are sneakers, after all, not Jimmy Choo‘s, which as everyone knows are an investment, or so I’ve read (but how would I fit them into my portfolio?).  These shoes are likely to be outgrown and forgotten in 6 months.  Hoping to cut my losses, I grabbed a pair of $65 Nike Air Max shoes and asked the clerk to bring me a size four.  My son slipped his feet into them and immediately felt the difference (damn you, clerk at Modell’s!) – he said they weren’t tight, and the side of his foot wasn’t hurting anymore (what??).  “Do you like them?” I asked, before he could look at anything else.  “Yeah, they’re cool,” he pronounced.  I threw the old ones in the new sneaker box and headed for the register, happy to be getting out of there for less than a hundred bucks.

At check out the cashier informed me that the total was $99.16.  “What?  No, the price on this shoe is $65, I saw it on the floor,” I exclaimed.  “Yes, that’s for size 3 and under; size four starts at $95,” the cashier explained.  Considering that the sneakers were already on my son’s feet and factoring in his pain and suffering at wearing sneakers two sizes too small for God knows how long, I handed over my credit card.

What was I complaining about?  I was, after all, getting out of there for under $100.

Are you as clueless as I am about pre-teen boy’s sneakers?  Are they really overpriced, or am I just out of touch?  What else do I have to look out for?  Will I ever own a pair of Jimmy Choo’s?  If you have answers to any of these questions, please, let me know!

Some photos courtesy of Google images

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I reblogged these quotes about Moms from More than Mothers. My favorites are  #4, 13, 16, and 34. Which are your favorites?

Jennifer's avatarMore than Mothers

For the life of me I can’t remember where I got these great quotes about mothers!  As soon as I recall the source I’ll let you know.  If you’re a mom, or have a mom, or have ever met a mom, you’ll love these!  My personal faves are the hilarious #10, 15, and 59, while number 20 made me choke back tears…

  1. There is no way to be a perfect mother, and a million ways to be a good one ~ Jill Churchill
  2. Mothers are all slightly insane. ~ J.D. Salinger
  3. My mother was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. All I am I owe to my mother. ~ George Washington
  4. Making the decision to have a child – it’s momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. ~ Elizabeth Stone
  5. The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at…

View original post 1,451 more words

A Well Visit Wake Up

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courtesy of Google images

I recently took my 11 year old son for his yearly well visit with the pediatrician.  At the end of the appointment, and after being assured all was indeed well, the doctor handed me a nifty little printout detailing the visit.  The first page listed current height and weight, any labs and tests ordered, results from vision and hearing screening, and any follow up appointments that needed scheduling.  How nice to have all that information neatly summarized on one page for easy reference – thank you, electronic medical records.

Then I turned the page.

The next page was captioned “11-14 Year Old Adolescent Visit”.  Adolescent?  My visceral reaction to reading this was “Holy sh*tballs! For reals?  Where did that come from?” I was just getting used to the term tween.  Tween is cute.  Last week he was still 10 years old.  This week he’s 11 and suddenly the word adolescent is being bandied about?  That just has a clinical ring to it I’m not sure I’m ready for.

And “11” is light years away from “14”.  In my inner panic all I could picture was a sullen, monosyllabic sleeping and eating machine who is six inches taller than me, at risk for trigger thumb from too much texting and suddenly interested in commercials for Axe deodorant.  This is a far cry from my sweet little boy who still reaches for my hand whenever we cross a busy street (if no one’s looking, of course).

I don’t know why I was so floored.  From infant to toddler to preschooler to big kid to tween (and technically I think I can still hold on to that one), my son’s new identifier as “11-14 Year Old Adolescent” is just the next step, right?  But there it was in black and white, mocking me as if to say “ready or not, here I come!”

The document went on to list information and guidelines about topics such as school performance, immunizations, testing, nutrition and oral health, physical, social and emotional development, and talking to your newly minted adolsecent about “risk behaviors” – you can just imagine what that’s about.

“Doctor,” I said, “Don’t get me wrong, I think this handout is great, but that ‘11-14 Year Old Adolescent’ thing kind of grabbed me by the throat.”  This man, who has been my son’s pediatrician for 10 years, laughed and said, “Yes, I know it’s a shock, but it’s here.”

And the hormone talk, like spring, must be in the air.  A few days later as I was looking over the curriculum topics to be covered in his class after the spring break, I noticed that “Puberty” was nestled in there between the Latin American Unit, Rocks and Minerals, and Essays and Fiction Writing.

I turned to my son and asked him if he knew what puberty was.  “I don’t know”, he shrugged “something about growing up, I guess”.

I have this tucked away. . .

Like the doctor said, it’s here.

It’s really here.

Have you had “the talk” with your kids yet?  How did you handle it?  What’s in store?  I really want to know!

A Midlife Moment

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This afternoon I met with my friend C. at our favorite neighborhood spot.  A quaint bistro-style coffee-house that serves delicious sandwiches and salads, pastries and artisanal coffees (C. swoons over the perfectly blended iced coffee), we love to sit here and chit-chat over lunch.  Occasionally I finish up my meal with a handmade salted caramel chocolate truffle – heaven!

While greedily devouring our eggplant, red pepper, zucchini and mozzarella sandwiches (on freshly baked Italian bread), C. mentioned how much she was enjoying the NBC musical drama “Smash”.

The conversation went something like this:

C.:  “. . . and Debra Messing is amazing on this show, I love her.”

Me:  “So do I, she is so funny.  Is she wearing her hair curly or straight?”  (I’ve recently stopped blow drying my naturally curly hair straight, thus alleviating my arm pain and most likely averting carpal tunnel syndrome.  Knowing that Deb was a curly girl, I was curious).

C.:  “Not pin straight, but wavy.  She was so great in that other series, too, you know, the one where. . . oh, you remember. . . “

Me:  “Yes of course, with that guy. . . what was it called again??? “

C.:  “Yes, the one with Jack. . . “

Me:  “Yes, and the other one – ugh, what is the name of that show???”

C.:  “I just can’t think of it. . . . “

Me:  “Neither can I – why can’t we think of that name???”

We stared at each other blankly.  Neither one of us could come up with the name of that damn show, not for the next 45 minutes of our lunch date.  Not even on the way home.  I told her we were having a Midlife Moment – where you can recall some details of what you’re trying to remember, but you can’t quite remember exactly what it is you’re trying to remember.  I felt like I was being punk’d by my own brain – the answer was just kind of dancing around the edges of my memory banks, then got  yanked away just as it was about to descend onto the tip of my tongue.  If you fall anywhere on the 40-spectrum, you might know what I’m talking about.

 The funny thing about these Moments is that eventually you do remember what it was you were trying to remember.  I finally remembered the name of the show.  Nine hours later.

“WILL & GRACE for cryin’ out loud,” I text-yelled to C.  “OMG!!  Of course!” she texted back.

Sigh.  I wonder if they can put some ginkgo biloba in those salted caramel chocolate truffles.  Doesn’t chocolate have some memory enhancing properties?  I think I read that somewhere, I just can’t remember where. . .

yummly.com

Are you “forgetting to remember” more often than usual?  What are some of your Midlife Moments?  Let me know (don’t worry, I’ll probably forget all about it!)

Oh, the Hairs on my Chinny, Chin Chin!!

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The other day my 10 year old son asked me what puberty was.  Caught a little off guard, I turned it around and asked him what he thought it was.  “Well”, he began “Jay says it’s when your penis grows and you get hair down there.”  Then he continued “Does everyone go through puberty?  Did you go through it?  Did Dad?  Will I?”  Taking a deep mental breath, I answered his questions calmly and simply.  “Yes, everyone goes through it, yes, Dad and I went through it and you will too, but not for a couple of years yet.”  Satisfied for the moment, he went about his 10 year old business.  That little exchange reminded me that I’m wrestling with my own hair issues, and I don’t mean the hair down there.  Because while my son, before long, will be sprinting down the road to adolescence, I’m slip-sliding along the perimenopause path, and confronting a rather disturbing side effect.

Currently hurtling through my 40s, I’m told that this grim turn of events is caused by a disruption in the delicate balance of the female sex hormones, sort of a second puberty.  This go round on the hormone rollercoaster has resulted in dark, thick, coarse masculine hair sprouting on my chin.  Not just one or two, more like 17 at last count, which was this morning.  They look like the kind of facial hair I guess my son will be sporting in a few years.  Ironic, isn’t it?

But the indignity doesn’t end there.  Not only am I now competing with hubby to see who wears their 5 o’clock shadow best, but a couple of these unwanted whiskers have the audacity to grow in WHITE!  As if having chin hair wasn’t appalling enough, I am sprouting salt and pepper chin hair.  George Clooney might be able to pull off this look, but I feel like Ringling Brothers is going to knock on my door and offer me a sideshow gig any minute now.

While there’s not quite enough hair to coax into a trendy soul patch, there is enough that something has to be done about it.  My grooming tool of choice is the tweezers.  I’ve tried waxing, but that tends to make me break out (there goes that puberty thing again), and I’m not ready to go all pharmaceutical just yet.  So, as each one pops up, I reach for my trusty Tweezerman and pluck it.   Quickly.  Painfully.   

I’m hoping once actual menopause hits and the hormones start leveling off, this issue will resolve itself (are you listening, creeping belly fat??).  If only I could transfer those hairs to my eyelash line, which seems to be thinning out as quickly as my hubby’s hairline.  That’s what you’ll see if you open the medicine cabinet at my house – an assortment of tweezers and a bottle of Rogaine – midlife, we have arrived.

If you’re at this point in your life, what physical or emotional changes are you experiencing?  Please let me know what’s ahead!   

 

Tips to Streamline Those Hectic Mornings

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What mom hasn’t gotten that frantic phone call from their kid at school – “Mom, I forgot my ________!”  You can fill in the blank with any variety of items – homework, lunch, violin, lacrosse stick, glasses -whatever can get left behind usually does at one point or another.

If the same crazy chaos keeps happening day after day, like “Groundhog Day” for the school set, planning ahead and establishing some routines can streamline those manic mornings and help to better organize the day.  Get the kids to assist in the prep work – let them “earn points” redeemable for extra computer time or whatever else might motivate them to take part in setting up a plan of attack and sticking to it.  It’s just as easy to love a good routine as it is a bad one, so check out some tips to help you get started:

  • Pack it up the night before – as soon as homework is completed, pack up all papers, books, folders, etc. into the back pack, zip it up and leave it in a centralized location (by the door, in the kitchen) every evening so it’s easy to locate in the morning.
  • Lay out clothes the night before.  It’s easier to let your child have a say in this the night before than fighting about it 5 minutes before you have to head out the door.  Everyday items like a watch or jewelry, wallet, or cellphone should also be included with the wardrobe.  And how many times have I heard “where are my glasses”?  Check out this cute glasses holder from The Container Store.  My son hasn’t misplaced his glasses since I put this on a shelf by his bed a few months ago.
  • Breakfast hassles? While multigrain cereal or some whole fruit are nutritious options, some mornings my son likes a hot breakfast.  He loves pancakes, so I make a batch on Sunday, freeze them, and then microwave them during the week for a hot, homemade breakfast any time.  Since I’m making my own, I can add bananas, walnuts, flax seeds – it’s healthier and less expensive than the frozen store-bought kind.
  • A calendar outlining activities and events for each day (math test, sports and club activities, music lessons, etc.) is a visual reminder of what items are needed to complete daily tasks – and gather them ahead of time.  It’s also a good place for writing down a to do list – charge cellphone, get lunch money, etc.  If kids can see what’s coming, it’s less overwhelming and easier to manage for everyone.  I use this erasable calendar decal from PBTeen.

These methods have cut down on my morning chaos and have helped my son stay organized – what strategies do you use to reign in the madness?  I’d love to hear about them and learn something new!

Too Much Television!

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It’s the question that all mothers ask at some point or another – how much television is too much? When I was pregnant with my son, I was determined that television was going to have a supporting role – maybe even a walk-on part – not a starring role in my son’s life.  I was the mom who played Baby Needs More Mozart and read Dr. Seuss to my baby in utero.  Books lined the shelves in his nursery, little soldiers waiting to be deployed in the battle against too much television.

Then the real world came crashing in.  At first, there was Sesame Street and a few select educational videos, and that was it.  Through friends and playgroups, Blues Clues and Dora the Explorer arrived on the scene, and he was enthralled with his little “Thinking Chair”-shaped notepad and crayon, “writing” down clues everywhere we went.

Around the 1st grade, he came home asking about Spongebob Squarepants.  All the other kids were watching it, and he wanted to watch it too.  At this point, I didn’t allow TV watching during the week, only on weekends.  So one Saturday afternoon we took a journey to a pineapple under the sea and met the denizens of Bikini Bottom.  Once again, he was hooked.  Me, not so much.  After a while, though, that little yellow sponge and his friends got the better of me, so much so that one summer we boarded the Nickelodeon Cruise to the Bahamas with Spongebob and all his friends.  I have to admit, we had a blast, with dad getting slimed in the process.

Fast forward to middle school.  The television watching rules during the week have been relaxed, as long as all homework and other responsibilities have been met.  And here is where I Iook for . . . balance.  Glazed eyes and slurred speech are a dead giveaway, of course, but if whatever’s flashing on the flat screen is taking away from something else, it’s time to act.  For example, if my son’s not showing off his newest Lego creation or the latest installment in a comic book he’s writing, or if we’re not engaging in a good old “well, what do you think?” session, that means there’s too much television.  Putting off going bike riding because there’s something on TV?  Too much.  Family time compromised (and this applies to all of us)?  Too much.  If a day or two goes by and I haven’t seen a book in his hand because of some can’t-miss TV show?  Too much.

These days when everything can be DVR’d or viewed on Netflix, television can take a back seat.  There are only so many hours in the day to engage in other pursuits and connect with each other; I don’t want my family giving that up to television.  Although, Wednesday night is “The Middle” night. . . .

 How do you balance television viewing in your family?  What’s your tipping point?

Blog Dare 2012: What’s Something You Need Daily?

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What couldn’t I get through the day without (aside from a shower, of course?)  As I thought about this question posed  as part of the Blog Dare 2012 on bloggymoms.com,  I came to the conclusion that it’s something I sometimes take for granted and would miss terribly if it wasn’t there:  Connection.

Whether listening to my son relate a hilarious story about lunch room hijinks, or commiserating (or celebrating!) with a friend over a cinnamon-scented cappuccino, or sharing details of the day with my husband – that human connection is the thread that weaves its way through my life daily.  While those moments of solitude, especially as a mom, are necessary and downright precious, it’s those connections that propel me forward.  What would I do without them?   What would you do?