Suburban Bliss:: Birth Control Via The Written Word

Buzz Buzz

This is Max chatting with his buddies at T-Ball. These kids are both Max's age and this is "novel" because I'm that parent.

Found Money

The other day Logan stopped at the market on his way home from work. On his way out he saw a pile of money outside the car next to him. It was $70, so he waited in his car to see if the person who owned the money came back to the car. After 15 minutes or so he decided this was a waste of time and left a business card on the car saying, "Did you lose something?"

I wonder if the woman who came back to her car actually lost her sense of wonder, or her faith in the world and read Logan's note as a sign from God.

Unfortunately, when she called she said she hadn't lost anything...anything from her purse or pocket anyway.

Logan and I are very sensitive about our karma. Living here for this last year feels like we've used up all our good luck. Also, a couple weeks ago there was a customer error made in our checking account and the resulting fees the bank charged us is paying for some lovely bank executive's kid to get braces. We're really sensitive about money and losing it.

Because losing an amount of money that could have paid for a family trip to visit friends in Texas, a trip we decided not to take to, you know, "save money" hurts a lot.

Honestly if Logan had found $5 or even $20, we'd have spent it on, who even knows where our money goes anymore (besides the bank executive's vacation fund). We wouldn't have thought that much about the karma because I've lost $20 before and it didn't shake my world or ruin many plans. That's karma I can live with.

But $70 wasn't something we could just pocket because if we lost $70 somewhere, we'd be pretty upset.

So Logan told each of the kids they could each give $35 to whatever charity they wanted. Maddie, of course donated her money to the Humane Society, with a note suggesting the money pay for things a DOG would like. Not a CAT. Max sent his money to the Humane Society as well because he didn't really know what else to do.

They both wrote notes about why they were donating this money, leaving out the part where their parents live in fear of their good luck running out.

Even the easy one isn't.

I mentioned the other day how Max was only in it for the mustache. I also mentioned how that little gem came after a monstrous tantrum, totally fitting for the two year old Max, but not so much fitting for the 7.5 year old Max.

All afternoon after a full day of camp, he mentioned several times he didn't like it, he wasn't going back, it's torture. I asked him why, he said, "It's boring." I can tell you what's "Boring", sitting around the house trying to find something to do because all your friends are on vacation and your mom is trying to work. 

Camp, on the other hand, is really not boring.

But he couldn't elaborate, even with some suggestions from me. "Is it tiring?" "Are you sad more of your friends aren't there?" "Is it too loud and hectic?"

His only elaboration was "It's torture."

This season I paid $90 to get Max into soccer at his insistence, and once there, he had several meltdowns and in general lost his shit. Logan is better at handling these types of situations where shit is lost but the practices were nights Logan wasn't available. So I let Max drop out.

This was a big mistake. We, as a family, frown on quitting things you've asked to sign up for. Since I'd let him drop out of soccer, there is no way he's dropping out of anything else he asks to sign up for. Because of this I decided to acknowledge that Max wasn't thrilled about camp, but since he had to go back anyway, I mainly ignored his grumblings about not wanting to go to camp again.

That night at bedtime, Max fell apart. Thinking we didn't want to cater to these freak-outs or pay attention to them. We ignored it. We told him if he didn't get a hold of himself he was going to his room. We told him he wasn't getting tucked into bed until he stopped screaming. 45 minutes later, he was still shrieking and I was praying for the SuperNanny to drop down and tell me what the hell to do now.

Finally he stopped screaming, but kept whimpering and sobbing. I tucked him into bed and helped him calm down. He continued to whimper for another half hour or so and I listened from my bed in the next room.

I realized as I sat there where maybe we'd gone wrong.

I'm used to Maddie who doesn't really "suck it up". She is anxious in situations that make her uncomfortable and she can tell me in great detail what exactly is bothering her and how she feels. (Please see her mouse vs snake lunchroom analogy at 6 years old.) It's heart wrenching to watch her go through these moments in her life, but it's easier to hold her hand because she's so good at knowing how she feels.

Max actually does "suck it up" most of the time. Most of the time he just does it anyway, even when he's feeling anxious or weird or whatever. But then, since it's hard for him to talk about how he's feeling, I think he can feel like we aren't taking his feelings seriously.

As I sat there listening to him sob himself to sleep, it dawned on me that the only way we don't expect him to just "suck it up" and be our usual easy going guy is if he totally freaks out. Then we're all clear Max is unhappy. Not just a little unhappy, he's really pissed.

I think a lot of Monday night's hysterics were compounded by exhaustion. Also, since Tuesday he's had a great time at camp and has been perfectly happy to head out the door in the morning. Still it's interesting how even my "easier" kid can throw me for a loop sometimes.

This is the part where Maddie gently suggests we get rid of him like she's been suggesting since the day we brought him home.

In other news: SPORKS!

I told him everything doesn't have to be white.

I have a few places to share with you today...

I closed out the Camping With Kids guide at Mighty Junior today. I loved putting it together, it made me a little more excited to go camping this summer with the family.

I also shared 5 Fourth Of July crafts at the Buzz Off. I chose these crafts because they're quite lovely and will make your home feel a little more patriotic. But mostly I picked them because they're reasonably easy to do with kids.

Finally, could you help Jennifer at Design Hole tell me what the hell to do with my living room? I would have asked all of you first, but I thought Jennifer could lead the charge. I love what she's come up with, especially given my incredibly limited budget and uncertainty about how long we'll be in this house. We need a focal piece of art, to help us choose where to go with the rest of the room. This is excellent advice.

Also, I can't thank Jennifer enough for the paint mock-up on the desk. It might be the only way I can finally convince my husband once and for all white is not the way to go with that stupid desk.

There are worse things to be in it for.

Max is attending day camp this week. This is a camp that costs $40, lasts from 9am to 4pm and is not a Vacation Bible School run by Baby Eating Presbyterians. So far it sounds awesome right? I picked Max up yesterday and he was wearing a pretty awesome fake mustache that made him resemble a character (in my mind) called "The Side Kick" from the Sabotage video.

He seemed to have had a good time. Until a few hours later when he told me he didn't want to go back. That he didn't like it. It was boring. It was also torture. All this ended with an hour long screaming session reminiscent of his cranky (and constipated) second year on this planet.

This morning when Max was a little calmer I asked him why he seemed so happy when I picked him up from camp yesterday but now says he hates it?

"Mom, I was only in it for the mustache."

Becoming That Parent

We signed Max up for TBall this year and switched his team so he could play with kids from the new school. He didn't get onto our first choice team but we were assured this team would also have kids from the new school.

So we said, "Oh well..." and were disappointed he wasn't on the team we'd have liked but I thought to myself, "Think about how many whining angry parents this organization has to deal with. We'll make the best of this."

I don't think of myself as One Of Those Parents.

So after a few missed connections and weirdness we were hooked up with our team for practice. I saw one kid from Max's class I recognized but none of the other kids. As we stood there I realized the kid I recognized wasn't playing, it was her preschool sister playing on the team.

Slowly I put it together that all these kids were kindergartners or preschoolers. Max didn't know a single one of the kids.

Max doesn't really like sports, we've tried a few and he ends up hating it. And sobbing. And gets mad whenever someone takes the ball from him. Like it's a personal affront. Like they took the ball just to be assholes.

TBall was the only sport he played that held his interest, probably because of the slower pace. Please see here.

After the first practice he wanted to quit TBall too.

That's when I became That Parent.

The one who makes angry phone calls and sends angry letters in an attempt to get things to be the way they selfishly want even though the organization has worked very hard to make the teams work and rearranging everything for one kid's precious sensibilities is a huge ass grinding pain.

I understood all that and still I set about being a huge pain in the ass, begging to have Max's team changed.

I got back the usual things one would get in this situation, gentle pats on the back about "Making New Friends" and "Expanding One's Social Circle" (with preschoolers.....okay....? No.) I went back and forth a few times, finally sending off a note explaining how stupid it was to suggest my 7.5 year old son make pals with 4 year olds. I also said, we'd make him play for the season as a life lesson in making the best of things, but it made me sad that the only sport my kid enjoyed would be ruined by the experience.

Immediately as I fired off the last note the team coordinator let us know Max had been moved to the team we wanted.

Although I felt like a baby, a gigantic baby crying for her binky, sometimes as a parent you have to be the whiny baby. You have to be That Parent.

I guess the key is trying to be That Parent only so many times so no one actually hands you a binky when you complain about something.

Weekly links to other stuff.

Today at the Buzz Off I shared 10 of our favorite outdoor games. Most of them have pretty simple rules but they're the kind of things you might not think to teach your kids, I thought they'd just pick these things up.

I don't know why but I thought kids were born knowing how to drink from a straw and how to make a swing go on it's own. But no, these are things you need to teach them.

I also started the camping guide today at Mighty Junior, you should watch over the next week to see some great things to make camping with kids a little more pleasant than this.

Also, ff you're taking your kids camping this year, check out the wealth of tips at Parent Hacks. I refuse to spend this next camping excursion night keeping my tent on the ground with the power of my mind as rain pours in.

The oldest kid actually broke Logan's hand when he shook it.

Yesterday a neighbor held an open house to celebrate her middle son's high school graduation.

We, you might be surprised to learn, love parties. So we attended the open house.

The family who used to live in our house came to the party and I invited them over to take a look in their old house. Luckily we'd put all the cocaine away, and almost all the sex toys. The house is really different since the time they lived here, mostly because of some severe water damage that caused the second floor to become one with the first floor.

Some day I want to be able to walk through our old house with the kids. Max probably won't be able to remember it but Maddie will.

I have a really strong feeling that homes are more than places we live. That they encapsulate so much of who we are, they're a part of us. That's why, even though our last house tried to kill me in the months leading up to it's sale, I still sobbed like a little baby during our last walk through.

The landlord here, who's owned the house since the last family lived here, could really care less about this house. He doesn't care if a family lives here or if the neighborhood has block parties and watches out for your cat when you lose it outside. This house is an albatross around his neck he'd like to unload on us for as much money as the market can bear.

So it was fun walking through the house with the last family who loved this house. Hearing their older kids remember eating breakfast in the old kitchen and showing us which room they shared with the baby (who's 13 now).

After we walked them through the house I took them out to the garage where their family had made a growth chart on the side entry door. If you thought my first day/last day picture was mind blowing, seeing these little three-foot marks on the door next to fully grown young adults who are now taller than me pretty much blew almost all my brain cells.

It's also the first day of summer and I'm finding it hard to believe that some day my kids will be young adults and won't spend half the first day of summer vacation explaining how there's nothing to do.

People claim I will miss these days, I can't wait to find out.

First Day, Last Day

Summer Photo Essay

Tonight I collected all my favorite summer pictures for the last, I don't know, three years?

I think love summer because winter is so horrible here.

Also? I need to fix my layout so this cool slideshow looks nice. But tonight? I'm not doing it. You can't make me.

I never post and then all I do is blabber on and on.

A week or so ago Maddie saw the dreaded Maturation Video at school. You know the one where they tell you about your period and body odor and the fact that you'll grow breasts...at some point. I already handled these things with great ease, or not. Still, I did buy her a book and it answered a lot of her questions and kind of narrowed down the things she wanted to know about.

I bought myself a few more years before I have to explain BDSM. Phew.

During the Maturation Video they talked a little about how some girls experience "Mood Swings" as their bodies go through changes.

One day Maddie had a little emotional come apart because the two way radio she walks to school with didn't connect to me right away. She came running into the house, hyperventilating and fighting back tears. I explained to her that, since she'd just walked out the door and I hadn't yet reached the radio which was in the kitchen, about six feet away, I hadn't turned it on.

But see now? I'm turning it on. You're okay, take a deep breath.

Later that afternoon she said, "Remember this morning? When I freaked out about the radio not working? Was that a "Mood Swing"?"

Oh, oh, oh....Dear Sweet Little Madison, you were born on a mood swing and if it's PMS? That either means your body's been waiting for your period for about NINE AND A HALF YEARS or that you're my daughter and a little high strung. Sorry.

******

In other news I just closed out a guide to wonderful summer party dress up clothes for kids at Mighty Junior. Shockingly, we pulled together a lot of great things for girls and boys.

I also came up with a list of 50 Things To Do With Kids Around Detroit Before They Grow Up at the Buzz Off. Surprisingly, not one of them involves a racial stereotype, a joke about crime or a reference to the stupid mayor.

I think it's a good list, but obviously not complete. If you're in the area, give me your best ideas over there in the comments.

Pee-Knees

The neighbors have planted 5 or 6 peony bushes outside our dining room window, they're just starting to bloom.

This neighborhood just keeps getting better and better.

Flowers I get to enjoy, without putting in any work.

This is what grandparenting is going to be like I think.

Mom and Me Camping

Friday morning I decide enough is enough and three nights of not sleeping isn't worth pretending I'm a healthy person. I accept I'm a sickly weak person who has been on antibiotics three times in two months and called the doctor about the cough that is trying to kill me (and my marriage).

At the doctor I have chest x-rays taken and hey! Hello Bronchitis! You're a new affliction I haven't yet had in the last three months. I mention to the doctor how I was supposed to go camping, in the rain, and how I probably shouldn't go, right? I mean, if you could just give me a note to give my son that would be swell.

He doesn't see any reason to cancel the trip, even when I reminded him about the tent, the rain, the lightening, and the lack of bathrooms he still thought I'd be just fine on a camping trip.

Jerk.

****

We're setting up our tents, one of the veteran Cub Scout moms comes over to help a few of us out. As we're helping set up someone's tent I ask, "So are there sinks here?"

She looks at me as though I've just asked if where the hot tubs and massage therapists were.

****

It's 8 o'clock, rain is pouring over me as I realize everyone else has some sort of cover over their tent and mine...doesn't. I borrow some stakes and a tarp and attempt to create some kind of rain shelter. While it pours and I try to hammer stakes into the ground. My underwear is wet. I am not comfortable.

I've never been camping in a tent as an adult. There was the one time Logan and I set up this tent in the orchard at the bed and breakfast we stayed at when we got engaged. But that didn't count because we were in the backyard of a house and also because it didn't rain.

****

The rain stops, we go to watch the bonfire and some awkward teenage boy scouts perform some skits. Lightening flashes over the lake and scares Max so we head back to our tent to eat graham crackers, chocolate and not-roasted marshmallows.

A bolt of lightening touches down 20 feet away. I begin to wonder if, you know, sleeping in a big open field with metal supports over my head is such a fabulous idea. I'm wondering why I'm the only one who seems to think this is a terrible idea. It's probably my crazy medicine talking. Or something.

****

The sky opens up and rain pours down. The bottom of the tent is wet but we're up out of that because of our air mattress. The air mattress I had to fill inside the tent because it is just a tiny bit bigger than the square footage of our little tent.

Max and I get out of our clothes, he's suddenly shy about getting naked in front of me so we turn out all the lights and get our pajamas on in the dark.

It's actually really cozy in the tent when the rain isn't coming down too fiercely. It hits the tarp and makes a satisfying crackle. We use Max's head lamp to make shadow puppets on the walls of the tent.

I hope this is a night Max always remembers.

****

It's midnight, Max is asleep exactly two minutes after telling me he wasn't at all tired and could stay up all night.

I'm listening as my totally makeshift, I-Have-Absolutely-No-Idea-What-I'm-Doing, rain guard is blowing in the wind. Each gust threatens to tear the entire tarp off the tent. I know my knots are ridiculously non-functional.

I'm waiting for the minute I have to make a run across the camp, carrying Max in the storm to the car.

My friend Leslie is in the tent next to us with her little boy (the one I left home alone). The winds pick up and she texts me, "You okay?"

I reply, "Who the hell thought it was a good idea to put the girl with anxiety issues in a tent in the middle of a hurricane?"

Her: "That should be a movie."

Me: "....or great content for my website. If we make it out alive."

****

We make it out alive.