Not So Free Wheelin'

I will admit it - I am easily amused. As we were walking into Hobby Lobby this afternoon, the following caught my attention. And then, it made me laugh.

How often does one see a sign that says "NO SHOES WITH WHEELS" when entering a public place. The sign is referring to Heelys, a shoe with a wheel in the heel that creates a skate. These shoes have gained much attention recently, most of it negative. Doctors have warned about the dangers of such shoes saying that the unnatural position necessary to maneuver on the wheel in the heel causes children to fall backwards resulting in head injuries. The likelihood of this is augmented by the fact that most who wear Heelys do not wear protective gear.

But is it really necessary to post such a sign at Hobby Lobby? I will admit that the aisles of this store are lined with glass items for home decor. Even a slight bump into one display tower would create a huge mess. But why focus on the shoes with wheels? Almost anything with wheels in this environment could result in the same disaster.

Have you ever been behind a toddler pushing his own stroller through a store? That is definitely a recipe for disaster, but I do not see a sign forbidding that. Then there are those pushing their carts, paying attention, and still running into people and things. Why do we not ban shopping carts? Then there are those who just flat aren't paying attention to what they are doing, no wheels involved, who run into people and things. What should be done about them? Should all "space cases" be banned from public places? This is showing some promise!

I also had to laugh at the juxtaposition of the no shoes with wheels sign right above the handicapped accessibility sign. I am not sure what makes Hobby Lobby handicapped accessible. They do not have automatic doors. The layout is similar to that that a lab rat must endure. It is just as likely that a person in, or one who is pushing, a wheelchair will run into something as it is that the kid in roller shoes will. In fact, it is probably more likely because there are more people in wheelchairs shopping at Hobby Lobby than there are kids on wheels.

I suspect that the ban on Heelys is the result of an accident, possibly even a lawsuit, at some store. So as is the American way, we ban the problem item rather than learning how to deal with it properly.

The rebel in me wants to roll right back to the yarn aisle!

TV Or Not TV

I was reading the Yarn Harlot's blog from July 16th. She had been deemed an uncool mom because she does not allow her teen aged girls to watch TV before 4 pm in the afternoon. I do not have the same rule per se, primarily because one of my girls is not awake during daylight hours and the other one demands much more social stimulation than sitting around watching TV. However, these things, though they do not cause "The TV Fight", cause other battles.

I went to bed last night, relatively early for me (10:45), having done the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. I awoke this morning to a sink full of dirty dishes. After ranting and raving for a good while at the father of the alleged, because said perpetrator was asleep of course, I left to take Erin to theater rehearsal telling the father that I expected the kitchen to be spotless when I returned. I really did not care how that was accomplished, I just wanted it done.

When I got home some five hours later, the dishes were done, but the counters were not cleared and cleaned. I was forced to rant some more at the now upright child.. Why can't you clean up after yourself? When you go to college next month, who do you think is going to clean up after you? NO ONE! You will not be allowed to use any common spaces because you are such a slob! If I wake up one more morning to a dirty kitchen when I went to bed with a clean one, you will lose your cooking privileges for a week!

Teenagers really hate it when their weaknesses are pointed out. And of course, there is always a comeback that is intended to make me feel like a stupid, incompetent idiot. How do you expect me to do the dishes when the dishwasher is running?! Hmm. Wait for it to finish? I can't do the dishes if YOU run the dishwasher when you go to bed. You are up all night; the dishwasher only runs for 90 minutes. I can't do the dishes if the dishwasher is full! Maybe you should wash them by hand. Deep silence fell upon the teen aged mouth. We'll see what happens . . .

So, cooking instead of watching TV has its drawbacks.

Erin has been re-reading the Harry Potter books in anticipation of the release of the last book on Friday, so she has not watched much TV either. I am not sure she has eaten at all during this week of reading frenzy. She has not even spent much time on the phone or instant messaging:however, she also has not done any of her summer reading for school or cleaned her room. But, Erin will be up to speed with Harry Potter.

Gone are the days when crayons and an endless supply of paper were all that was necessary for several hours of summertime entertainment. When she is watching TV, Brooke spends much of her time watching the tattoo shows on TLC (I think it is TLC.) She is fascinated with the entire process. Over the past few years, she has created a notebook with her own tattoo designs. Rumor has it that some of them have made it to the bodies of some of her friends, but I have not actually seen confirmation of this. Nonetheless, she keeps drawing them. My desire is that her fascination will stop with the designing and not extend to the wearing of tattoos. I am safe for at least five more months. I have tried to convince her that what seems (and looks) like a good idea at 18 may lose something in the translation to 60, 70, or 80.

BK told me a joke the other day about a woman who had a rose tattooed on her breast when she was young. Now, as a senior citizen, she says that it has become a long-stemmed rose. You get the picture.

Because she can't legally get a "real" tattoo and because Brooke likes to draw designs, she spends many of her waking hours drawing tattoos on her body with Sharpies. This has kind of an appeal. The colors are great and nothing is permanent. Because of this, I actually look forward to seeing what image she comes up with next. Some of them are quite intricate.

Here are the designs from a few weeks ago.




The amazing part to me is that she is able to draw them on herself. Sometimes she spends hours creating a design. After a shower, they are gone. The whole process reminds me of the sand drawings that the Tibetan monks take days to do and then they are gone in only a few seconds. The good news is that then the "canvas" is cleared for the next moment of inspiration.

So the TV thing, well, there are days when I am sure my girls spend too much time watching it, but all in all, I think it balances out. Thankfully, they realize that their brains may turn to mush if they spend too much time in front of the TV.

Tonight I will hope for either inspiration for a new tattoo design or mindless TV so that Brooke will not feel compelled to cook. Right now the kitchen is clean. It is in her best interest that it stay that way! She will starve if her kitchen privileges are revoked. Because you don't cook anything that I can eat! Should she reach the point of starvation, she will notice that the emaciated look, like age, has ill effects on body art.

Birthday Bash

Today was Mike's 48th birthday - not a monumental birthday. Well, I guess every year that a man lives without his spouse killing him is monumental in its own way. You would think that after being married for 24 years, it would be easy to buy him the perfect birthday gift. Wrong! He is the most difficult person I know to find a gift for. This is because he beats any woman I know at the shopping thing. If he wants something, he buys it. Since he travels so much, I have no idea what he has bought.

This year I put all of my creative energy into picking out the perfect card. You know, one of those with a perfect sentiment, one that reflects my deep feelings for him, one that upon reading he would know it was from me because no one else could possibly feel that way about him. On the front it read, "It's your birthday, and, well, I'm afraid I have some bad news . . ."

What kind of news would be bad for a 48 year old man?

• I'm pregnant.
• You are going to be a grandfather . . .and your daughter is only 14!
• The cashier at Denny's just gave you the senior citizen's discount.
• You are too old to shop at Old Navy.
• I am ready to accept the "I'm too old for that." excuse.
• The Jay Leno Show is on past your bedtime.
• Now when you drive around in a sleek little sports car, rather than being whistled at, the woman will all yell, "mid-life crisis!"

All of these may be true, but the card said, "Apparently sucking in your gut like that has blown the hair off the top of your head."

The truth hurts some times. Well maybe it is not one of those sentimental cards. Do people really send those? According to my children, only grandparents send "that kind" of card - the ones with some sweet-as-sugar sentiment in some elegant font perfectly placed amidst the arranged pastel flowers. If you actually read the words you know that the person who sent it does not know you very well at all. If anyone in my family ever gave me one of those cards, I would know that I was dying or something. It just would not happen. It is simply inappropriate. At our house, love is expressed through sarcasm and bad taste.

Last night, I did bake him a spice cake from scratch, at his request. I even let him lick the bowl. When asked if he wanted the cake frosted, Mike said that he would rather have a dusting of powdered sugar. That makes it easy. The cake was sitting on the stove waiting for us to return from the casino, another wish of the birthday boy, to open presents and have dessert. On the way out the door, I noticed that someone had sampled it already. Unfortunately, that someone is black, has four legs, and does not have any experience with knives. Adidas helped himself to many bites out of the center of the cake. He created an indentation that looked like the outline of the United States. Had I been frosting the cake, I could have hidden his artwork, but powdered sugar just accentuated the North American shaped crater. I tried to do something nice; I really did. The dog just wasn't on my side! Maybe Adidas was mad because he did not get to lick the bowl.

Do you think that if I had picked out a nice mushy card, the atmosphere would have been a little different and the dog would have sensed that a canine sculpted cake just would not do for an occasion that required a card with pastel flowers and a curly font?

I will never know.

Sad State Of Affairs

Over the past few weeks BK has been designing a baby bootie pattern in multiple sizes for the next issue of Spirit of Knitting. Because none of us has a recent memory of the real size of those tiny feet that babies come with, BK has been accosting mothers and babies in nearly every public place we have visited in the last week asking to borrow the babies' feet to try the booties. Though the pattern is done and the booties are knit, she is still scoping out babies.

This evening on our way back from Austin we stopped about an hour and a half away from home for dinner. There was a family with two small children. a girl about 3 and a baby boy about 9 months, seated at the table next to us. The baby kept smiling at BK. Once he was bored with that, he decided he was going to crawl out of his seat - a booster seat. We all knew that that was going to come to no good; however, we did not expect the "no good" that came.

In an instant, the booster chair slipped and the baby fell flat on his back onto a concrete floor and hit his head. His daddy jumped to pick him up. All I could think at that moment was Cry. Please cry! I have always heard that when babies don't cry quickly after a fall that the situation is not good. He did begin to cry. It seemed like it took forever but it was probably only a few seconds.

The parents took the crying baby outside. They returned a few minutes later and he had stopped crying. None of the staff at the restaurant seemed overly concerned. The parents were much calmer than I would have been if it were my child. I did hear the father ask if they had any Tylenol in the diaper bag. Mom gave him a dropper full.

There were three of us eating together, one of whom had been a nurse. She went over and asked if she could help; she looked at the baby and did not see anything immediately that was cause for alarm though she suggested that they take the baby to the hospital to be checked out just in case. They agreed and asked where the closest hospital was. They too were traveling and did not know the immediate area well. The closest hospital was about 30 miles away.

They asked that their dinner be brought to go. We asked our waitress if the manager had filled out an incident report. She was not the sharpest tool in the shed and it took a few seconds for her to figure out what we were even talking about. In a few minutes another woman, who did not look like she commanded much authority, came over and scribbled the people's name down on a piece of paper. I don't think that she was taking the whole thing very seriously.

The deal is, that these parents who were about to take this child with a head injury to the emergency room needed all the documentation that they could get because in this society, they are going to be treated as guilty of child abuse until proven innocent. By law, medical professionals are required to report incidents of this type of injury to CPS.

We were all sitting at the table knowing what kind of hell these people will probably have to endure. We did not want to say too much about this because we did not want to scare them so much that they would be afraid to take the baby to the hospital. We did give them our contact information and ask that they phone us and let us know how the baby was doing. Deep down, we knew we were giving them the information in case they needed us to tell the authorities what happened.

I realize that cases of child abuse and neglect occur way more often than any of us likes to think. Just last week there was an incident in Dallas where a toddler fell down some steps. His mother put a Popsicle on his head, went back to sleep, and woke to find her child dead. But, there has to be some way to deal with cases in a way where we don't assume that everyone is guilty.

I pray that the little boy we met tonight is OK. And, I pray that his family does not have to endure an investigation by CPS. I hate the fact that this is what the world has come to. This whole scenario has a level of paranoia to it that really makes me uncomfortable. I trust that this little boy was taken to the hospital to receive proper medical attention but I wonder how many children don't get medical help when they need it because their parents are scared of what might happen to them. Have we not created another problem with equally significant ill effects?

I guess it is better to be safe than sorry but I have to admit that I am glad that I am not the one having to convince the ER staff that the head injury that my child suffered really is from falling from a booster chair.

What's For Dinner?

"What's for dinner?" is a loaded question at my house. No matter what the answer, someone is going to roll their eyes and give me "that face". When Offspring #1. is a vegan and Offspring #2 is a carnivore, there is no way to please everyone. Husband leans more toward the carnivore side but sometimes it is possible to sneak in a vegetable or two. In an effort not to starve anyone on a regular basis (some nights one or the other resorts to cereal), we have "assemble your own dinner" meals - taco salad is a great example of this. You want meat? Have meat. If you don't, have beans. The choice is yours. However, even I get tired of taco salad and I am willing to alternate between the meat version and the beans version and call it two different meals Because of these incompatible eating habits, there are nights when we do not all eat at the same time, though most nights we do all sit down at the table together.

Tonight I managed to create a meal that everyone, including the dogs, was happy with. The current issue of Woman's Day magazine contains a recipe for Asian lettuce wraps. They are made with ground beef seasoned with Asian spices and brown rice. I know, you are wondering how this pleased the vegan. She wanted me to make zucchini "hash browns" (shredded zucchini that is seasoned and cooked in a skillet as you would hash brown potatoes). She substituted the zucchini for the meat in her wraps and the rest of us, minus Offspring #2, ate it as a side dish. We also had an awesome loaf of homemade (by Offspring #1) sourdough bread. George Bush would be so impressed with our family mealtime - not our conversation, just that we were all here together.

We all sat down together and everyone was happy with what was on the table. What a feeling. There were no real leftovers to speak of - a spoonful each of the meat, the rice and the zucchini. I mixed it all together and gave it to the dogs. They too were licking their chops, and the empty plates as I placed them in the dishwasher.

This seems like such a simple accomplishment, and it may be, but it rarely happens around here so I am celebrating!

I am leaving for an overnight trip tomorrow. I am sure they will all resort to cereal and other random culinary combinations that may or may not contain any nutritional value. But hey, I am not the responsible adult for approximately 36 hours. Anyone can live on cereal for that little time and not suffer any long term effects.

Bad Mother

Okay, I have done it this time. I am no longer a candidate for Mother of the Year. All my chances gone in a mere 24 hour period.

I know that parenthood is not easy and that we all make mistakes. For the most part, it has been fun and not too painful for me. I know that I am extremely lucky that my kids have rebelled by being a blue-haired salutatorian and a stage diva who sometimes masquerades as a math genius. Believe me, I know that things could be much worse.

That said, I must now confess my two great parental failings of the last 24 hours.

FAILURE #1 Last night, Erin wanted to go to the movies with a friend, a girl. The girl wanted to go to the movies with friends, Erin and a boy. Erin was okay with being the third wheel. The problem is that for religious reasons the girl is not permitted to date. So, Erin was a distraction so that the girl's parents did not know that she was going to the movies with a boy. Every bit of this I knew as we strolled into the theatre. I played along. Should I have done that? Have I betrayed the parental tribe? Should I have said something to the girl's mother?

I am grateful that Erin felt that she could share with me what was really going on. Though I don't condone lying or sneaking around behind your parent's back, (I know, I know, actions speak louder than words. But I can explain!) I felt like this situation was relatively benign and tattling would cause much more trouble than it was worth.

The kids, Erin, girl, and boy, were waiting in the lobby of the theater when we came out of our movie. Erin and the girl walked out with us. Boy went out a side entrance because girl's mother was waiting out front.

As we were leaving the parking lot, Erin got a panicked phone call from boy because he was afraid that girl's mother had seen him. What was he going to do if she got in trouble? It is nice to know he has a conscience. In trying to escape the theater through a back entrance, he also got lost. Erin was on the phone with a panicked, lost boy trying to give him instructions to get home. I felt sorry for him. I found myself giving Erin all kinds of scenarios that would account for boy's presence at the movies - none of which included meeting the girl. I was teaching my daughter how to lie! What was I thinking?

Truthfully, what I was thinking is that I am glad that my kids tell me the truth and that their lives are not governed but such strict rules that they feel it necessary to lie about what they are doing. As it turned out, no one got in trouble. Girl's mother did not know that girl met boy at the movie. That is our secret.

FAILURE #2 For several months, Brooke has been making noise about going to the beach for a week with four other girls who graduated last May. My first thought was over my dead body. But, I refrained from immediately responding that way. I simply said that I did not think that such a trip was a good idea. In typical teen aged fashion she came back with the proverbial WHY NOT!! Let me count the ways:

1. You swore off the beach when you came home from that 7th grade trip with second degree burns from sunburn.
2. You have not seen any of these girls this summer and you have never socialized with them, never, outside of required school activities.
3. You have very little in common with them.
4. You don't own a bathing suit.
5. Chasing boys is not your favorite hobby.
6. I don't trust a couple of them.
7. I don't want you driving 9 hours
8. I don't want you driving 9 hours.
9. I don't want you driving 9 hours.
10. I just don't think this trip is a good idea. (This is based on mother's intuition but I knew that wouldn't fly so I kept that thought to myself.)

Brooke actually agreed with points 1-5 but said that none of that really mattered. As to point 6, she said that I did not have to trust them; I had to trust her. The deal is, I do trust her but I really don't trust them. Brooke reminded me that in a few months I was sending her to Chicago where I would not be able to choose her friends or mandate her comings and goings. True, but that is different. (Give me a minute and I will figure out how.) To points 7-9 she assured me that none of them has ever had a wreck. To which I replied, "there is a first time for everything." I found myself relying heavily on my gut feeling that this trip was just not a good idea.

I don't think I have failed as a parent so far. Here it comes.

In the past week Brooke has misplaced/lost her Ipod. She has the same kind of relationship with her Ipod that a toddler has with a blanket or a favorite stuffed toy - they are nearly inseparable. After we all tore apart the house looking for it, I told her that I guessed she was going to have to buy herself a new one. Through a voice much like that of a whiny toddler, she said, "I don't want to spend my money on a new Ipod. I want you to buy me a new one." Yeah right. You have graduation money. You buy it.

Then the bad parent gene kicked in. I have a solution to both of our problems. I told her that if she would agree not to go to the beach, I would buy her a new Ipod. Without hesitating, she said, "Deal!" I have probably been had because I honestly think that when it came time to really make the trip, she would have backed out. But this way, I don't have to worry anymore. We are both happy. Brooke will have a new Ipod and I will not have to worry about her on that trip. That is enough for me. To hell with the Mother of the Year thing . . .

No Mistakes

I just got home from seeing the movie Evening with Meryl Streep and Vanessa Redgrave, as well as a host of other fine actors. The screenplay is based on the book, of the same name, by Susan Minot. Michael Cunningham, author of The Hours was also involved in the screenplay. This movie probably falls into the category of "chick flick" but not in the same way as most that earn this designation. It is not a boy meets girl, they fall in love, and live happily ever after movie. Rather, it is a film that, if you really watch it, asks some difficult questions.

Without giving away the entire plot, because I recommend that you see it, I will say that the overarching message is that there are no mistakes in life. For the hour or so since I left the theater, I have been pondering this.

Really? There are NO mistakes in life? What about people who are divorced? Or in prison? Did they not make mistakes of one kind or another?

At this moment, I have come to the notion that maybe there is a distinction that must be made between a mistake and a bad choice. The two really are not synonymous.

Several years ago when we took the labyrinth into a minimum security women's prison, I listened to several of the inmates as they told their stories. I realize that much of what they said may have been fiction, but nonetheless, I remember thinking that all of us are just one bad decision away from being in their shoes. That is a scary realization for someone who is such a goody-two-shoes that I feel like helping myself to free refills in a restaurant is somehow stealing. Just one bad decision away from being in prison. I suppose that some of these woman may feel that they made a mistake. For whatever reason, their life took a path that led them to prison. In an ideal world, they will learn something from the experience and return to the world outside as a person who is changed for the better. I am not a Pollyanna; I know that this is not always the case. I did say in an ideal world.

Have people who have divorced because they married the wrong person made a mistake? A bad decision? Perhaps it takes having spent time in the wrong relationship to appreciate the right one when it comes along. Again, all the experiences that we encounter on our personal journey are important to forming the person that we ultimately become. There is no guarantee that the decisions we make, even the right ones, will not be painful or difficult. They very well may be, but that does not mean that they are a mistake. In fact, it may mean quite the opposite.

As I go to bed tonight, I am reliving my 45 years asking myself, "Do you think that anything that you have done in your life was a mistake?

All of these thoughts are definitely unfiltered. (This may be translated as rambling or not well formed. ) Perhaps I should have spent more time thinking before I chose to pontificate on this whole matter. All I can hope for is that if I said something really stupid, it will be regarded as a bad choice and not a mistake.