Sunday, August 18, 2013

Not Keeping Up with The Joneses


As I strolled through the mall today with my three kids in tow on a special back-to-school shopping extravaganza, I think I subconsciously made minimal purchases.  The lights, the air, the sounds, the smells, the ads everywhere, the inconsiderate people that don’t walk on the right side or the window shoppers that stop mid stride in front of you, the bored retail assistants, the money for this money for that just all got to me.  My senses were depleted, but I can happily say my wallet was not, and I’ve discovered I no longer like malls. 

I did get my kids some new kicks that are saved for the first day of school as if to say, “Hey, I’m not scuffed up yet”; a couple inexpensive shirts that they really don’t need, but $5 is a deal worth snagging; and first day clothes that I “let” them select.  Prior to entering the confines of commerce today, I had laid down some heavy mommy bartering before any of those said purchases were made.  I am so grateful that my kids are at an age where I can still do this and survive in a mall.

I am telling myself now that I will stand firm on this when they are pre-teens and they start badgering me for the latest fashion trends, but I am scared that this badgering will commence earlier than anticipated.  I recall how badly I wanted those redonkulous MC Hammer type diaper pants at the age of eleven, how overjoyed I was when my mom actually was convinced to buy them for me, and why she caved I’ll never remember.  I’ve long blanked on all of the sneaky things I would do or say to get my way as a kid, but I loved those pants, and mom, if you’re reading this, thank you for them.  I wish I still had them just to show them off like I did back then.  I remember wearing them to a school dance in sixth grade, and the confidence oozed out of me for once.  Maybe that’s why my mom caved.  They were crazy cool like the lavender jacket from Richway that I had at age six which resembled Michael Jackson’s red Beat It jacket complete with zippers galore.  That thing hung in my closet until it practically disintegrated. 

Since a young age I’ve been aware of the cool kids and their name brand this and name brand that covered in labels, grommets, alligators, high starched collars, and what not that just makes their clothing appear cooler than everyone else’s.  I even received a few cool hand-me-downs as a kid, but they were never as cool as my first pair of fancy raspberry high-top Chuck Taylor’s or my clunky clownish Doc Marten’s which I paid over $100 for as a teen thanks to a part-time job at – you guessed it – the mall.

I want the Joneses to stop paying so much for things.  I want the world to stop telling my kids they need to look like the Joneses.  I want the Joneses to take a permanent vacation.  I refuse to pay full price for anything just because the Joneses have it and my kids want it, because I have common sense.  This is the one thing that the Joneses do not have.  That full priced fashion will be over and out next month and/or my kid will (A) stain it, (B) grow out of it too fast, or (C) lose interest in it as soon as the Joneses do.  Can we all agree that keeping up with the Joneses is not what we should be doing?  I think so.  I also think it is imperative for us as parents to place more value on individuality than teaching our kids to highly value material goods.  I’m all for not keeping up with the Joneses.  Who’s with me?

Tortilla Snowflake


Two-thirds of my kids are picky eaters. Our nearly-off-the-charts-one-year-old would probably eat a phone book if we had one.  My five and seven-year-old would rather eat noodles, bread, sugary stuff, snack foods, dry cereal, and some berries every day.  Dinner time is interesting in our house, but it’s also fun because whenever possible we sit at the table together.  There’s typically a lot of bargaining at the table which can turn fun into stress.  Lots of if/then statements are made by my husband in generally thwarted attempts to get these two to try new foods.  Meanwhile baby in the highchair is the only one scarfing down a warm meal.  

I start to think the older kids’ palates are developing and then, wham, back to the nuggets.  Don’t judge.  I occasionally offer veggie nuggets which they don’t realize are not made of poultry, and I try to offer healthy options (or “healthful” if your name is Rachael Ray), but those options are sometimes quickly exhausted and so am I.  Maybe I’m giving myself a bad rap as I have been known to hastily throw in the mommy towel after a long day, but... I know, I know…Yes, I’ve read Jessica Seinfeld’s sneaky cookbook and even tried some sneaky recipes, but my kids are good detectives. 

Tonight my son asked me for a tortilla as I was whipping up some chicken enchiladas, one of dear hubby’s favorite meals that our kids balk at and make “BLEH” faces when they look at them.  Apparently my enchiladas are stuffed with “icky stuff” like rotisserie chicken, chilies, sauce, and “ewww – cheese” (Really, kids?!  Come on!  Cheese is glorious).  Anyway, I let him enjoy a plain tortilla (gross) as I finished making our dinnerS.   

I hear,”Hey, Mommy, look! Mom!  It’s a tortilla snowflake.”

As creative as it was I couldn’t say, “Son, don’t play with your food.”  I am a firm believer that squelching activity that sparks creativity in kids is a no-no (unless they’re harming themselves or someone else, of course; in that case I think a pleasantly raised voice is key – pronto!).   Instead of putting the kibosh on his gnawing of the tortilla I took a picture of it, because naturally he asked me to, and in this day and age we photograph everything.  Don’t we, folks, especially our food, right?

I wish his food choices would be as creative as his food art, but I know in time that will come.  I know this, because I recall what I was like as a kid.  I would pick hamburger out of things, put butter on everything like a mini Paula Deen, hid veggies under the rim of my plate like my big brother had taught me to, etc. I also recall what my sheltered palate was like before I graduated from microwaved Ramen noodle college, married a man with an adventurously spicy palate, travelled and finally sampled food from places other than the southeastern United States, and became addicted to The Food Network.

My son does eat things kids typically don’t eat, but things that we don’t keep stocked in our home like crab legs.  He has champagne taste I guess when it comes to some food.  My daughter would eat noodles with “Papa John cheese” (a.k.a. parmesan cheese – it’s just too cute to correct just yet) for every meal if we allowed it, but we do not.  I know waiting for their palates to develop won’t be like flipping a light switch, but as they grow, accept challenges, and have senses that also mature (like taste buds and sense of smell), I assume they will in fact try enchiladas and what not and maybe actually dig them.  I also know that I am in no rush for the flipping of the light switch to happen, because that will mean they’re no longer little and lately part of me just wants to freeze time and make tortilla snowflakes.

Saturday, August 3, 2013

Cool Glasses


Remember your days as an elementary student?  When did you start using the word “cool” to label one’s looks?  Was it back then?  When you used that word did it describe someone wearing glasses?  I’m guessing not.  It seems that for ages glasses have been synonymous with nerdiness, and the title of this blog may seem to be an oxymoron; however, I believe the times are a changin’. 

I remember being in fourth grade and being so ashamed to tell my teacher that I couldn’t see the math facts on the overhead projector (something that is so not cool to use these days).  When she turned her back I would secretly shimmy out of my seat on the back row in an effort to steal a better view of the numbers up there.  The day I was caught out of my seat I quickly pretended to tie my shoe…my Jordache sneaker from Kmart that other kids had deemed uncool.  It wasn’t up to par with the latest craze that only 2% of our class could afford – cue the background choir of angels – Air Jordan’s.  Someone even called me “Air Jordache” for a few weeks. 

Later that day after I was busted for squinting in the aisle I confessed to my mom that I couldn’t see, perhaps the teacher even called her.  I sort of blocked parts of the aftermath from my memory.  I do remember the utter devastation I felt when the optometrist stated the obvious, “You need glasses.”  As soon as he left the room and shut the door of that tiny, dark exam room, I crawled into my mom’s lap.  Basically in fetal position in her arms I cried my broken eyes out.  I was dreading the torment that would come with my “four eyes,” but you know what, at first life with glasses wasn’t really that bad.  That sort of tormenting began in middle school, and then, I ditched the glasses for contact lenses and have been wearing them ever since - for twenty-three years.  Well, not that original pair.  I can only imagine how much dough my parents and I have spent over the years on these tiny little miracles.

As a kid, I shook off “Air Jordache” with all of the other horrid nicknames that came my way during those funtastic grade school years.  As an adult I like to think that my character is far more developed than that of all those little bullies.   I can be tough.  I speak my mind (well, maybe way too much…).  This mindset set in high school when I was dubbed, “Killer Rose,” thanks to my ability to foul out of a basketball game no sooner than had I left my seat on the bench.  My best friend’s dad thought it was hysterical to shout that name out as our team was greeted by Rebel fans from the stands.  He’d hoot and holler that little nickname he gave me as loud and as proud as he could, and I must admit, I ate it up, too.  I was more of a bench player anyway, so when fouls were needed I was my team’s go-to player.

I digress…I preach anti-bullying whenever I can to my kids.  Like a broken record I tell them it’s not polite to call others names.  Maybe this preaching will make my kids dorky and such over time when they repeat it to their friends, but to me they’ll always be pretty darn cool at the core.  And, well, let’s be honest, the nice kids and dorks are the cool kids later in life.  I speak from experience. 

As genetics would have it, my son failed his vision screening at his recent well check.  I had fully anticipated that he would.  I took him to the optometrist, and he was so stoked to go.  It amazed me.  He was even more stoked when the optometrist turned to me and said, “Well, mom, he’s going to be a lifetime glasses wearer.”  He shouted, “What?  I get to get glasses!?”  As the doc confirmed, he did his signature move, a Jersey-style fist pumping action that I’m sure he fashioned from some end-zone celebration that he’s witnessed.  He was thrilled to get glasses!  I was thrilled that he was thrilled!  There’s nothing wrong with this boy’s confidence – yet…I fear the day he’s met with cruel nicknames and what not.

When he finally got to select his frames he turned to me with his new specs on, and said, “Mom, now, I look even cooler.”  Now, I think that is cool, and even cooler is the fact that he’ll be able to see the Smartboard in his classroom (naturally I was snookered into paying for the additional anti-glare feature to make certain of this).  His little sister jealously chimed in, “Urgh, I want glasses, too!”  When he dons his new prescription sports goggles (like a Smartboard these are something I also never had), look out, opposing team, because he’s going to be a cool “killer” on the court and on the field!