Mommy Needs A Time Out....

Before I had a child people gave me all kinds of advice/wisdom that I admit, I half listened to.

What EVERYONE neglected to tell me is that becoming a parent means you say things like 1100 times..... And I'm SO not a fan of repeating myself.

"Get dressed please we need to get going."
"But I am dressed."
"You wore that shirt to bed last night, now get dressed."
"They don't know I wore it to bed."
"I do and it's dirty, so get dressed"
"They won't be able to see the dirt"
"Get Dressed"
WHINE "I LIKE WHAT I HAVE ON AND DADDY PUT THESE PANTS ON ME."
"Those pants are not ok to go out in. Now go and get dressed"
WHINE, "Now I'm uncomfortable in my clothes."
"Good. Change them."

I must have said "Get Dressed" 25 more times while trying to get myself dressed and my hair dried before we got to time out which is usually not the way I work it-usually we would get to time out WAY before the whining. But I was trying to get somewhere (that I ended up missing. Possibly if I did the time out early enough then we could have been on our way) And why oh why was this request a problem? Getting dressed in a clean shirt and pants that are not capri pants in November should not incite a near riot. This is a reasonable request. I'm a reasonable woman.

Now I need a time out.

Or that bottle of wine....

My High School Boyfriend Paul

So after posting a completely self serving little ditty about my college roommate Jen, I announced that I would gladly post another missive about anyone else pledging to read my blog faithfully.

Who should request this service but my first high school boyfriend Paul. (I guess we all know the narcissists in my life now don't we) He also wants a Christmas card this year.

So here goes. Paul was my HS boyfriend. He was the first boy I ever kissed. He looked like George Michael in Highschool, complete with stubble. He was the only boy I knew who had 5 o'clock shadow by 8th period math class.... He was a Morman (he even went on a mission to China) but isn't any longer. I went to his house on Christmas and brought chocolates for his mom as a suggestion from my own mother. (Yeah thanks a bunch mom, Mormons don't EAT CHOCOLATE) How were we to know, It was like 1987 and we only knew Catholics......

Paul moved away when we were Juniors in high school. I went to visit him once in Philadelphia where we snuck out of his parents house late one night, went to the train station where we had been the day prior and stole these huge advertising posters. (I also think Mormons probably don't steal so I think he was already off the path) I also snuck out of my own parents house a few times to see him before he moved. (I was such a good girl that I left my parents a note though....Who does that???) He was really funny & dramatic and drove me to Canada once where we were stopped by the authorities because we had snuck (apparently there was a lot of sneaking with that boy) in a foreign exchange student whose passport we didn't get stamped and also did not have keys to the trunk. It was sheer luck, I think, that I am not still rotting in a dirty Canadian jail cell somewhere.

He lives in CA now with his lovely wife and son and looks strikingly similar to how he looked in high school. Except last year he cut his finger off so I expect his hand looks different.

Any more takers......I probably only have 2 readers left anyway. But a deal is a deal.

ps- Just so you know, I didn't crop his photo like that and add kitty cats and flowers. I stole it from his facebook page...

Stupid Tax #2

I have a long blog post written in my head right now but I'm too tired to get it out so I'll leave you with this.

Hands Free Headset for Cell Phone-$59.95
Ticket For Not Having Headset and Talking on the phone while driving anyway. -$100

You do the math...

And yes, I still need to buy the darn headset now.

My Gal Jenny

This is my best friend Jen. Isn't she pretty? This is her at her 20th class reunion. ( I don't know the girl next to her but I was having an issue with the crop) Boy Howdy does she look good! (And yes, I've always lived in the shadow of her beauty, thanks for asking....)

She doesn't read my blog often because I don't write enough about her. Seriously people, she said that. (she's like that.) She couldn't believe her best friend hardly wrote about her. I could not believe mine didn't read my darn blog.

In an effort to improve my readership and sooth her wounded pride I'm writing about Jen tonight.

I met her at our Freshman picnic where I complained to her about how loud my next door neighbors were. She promptly asked if I would come upstairs with her to get something from her room. WHICH HAPPENED TO BE RIGHT NEXT TO MINE...I had no way of knowing at that point of course, but my life was never to be the same. Jen is undoubtedly, the best thing I got out of college.

We were ALWAYS together. Once a guy tried to pick us both up. We let him drive us home (hey, it was cold) and he walked us to our room ( I'm not sure why that happened) where he tried to get us both to sit on the bed with him. I promptly got into my own bed (clothed) said goodnight, pulled the covers over my head and faced the wall. She kicked him out and I think we probably ordered wings. We also retaliated by having a pizza with everything on it delivered to him every night for a week. I'm not sure why we did that but it still cracks us up.

We have a certain magic electricity when we are together that makes things happen. (just ask us!) Aside from just having side splittingly good times together, we've stayed free at the Waldorf, vacationed for free at Lake George, Gone to Las Vegas for free & stayed at the Venetian, Met Mario Batali at his restaurant and sat behind Rudy Guliani at a Yankee game where Derek Jeter grinned at us (He was probably grinning at all those breasts...) We've run into old boyfriends together when we looked our best and have even had babies at the same time. She's one of the funniest people I know. She's a great cook and has been in News Day for her recipe for Armpit Chicken.....Yes, that is indeed, what it is called. She's well read, wickedly smart & effortlessly stylish. She has 3 beautiful children and a globe trotting pilot of a husband who has lived in Africa where he contracted malaria. Very Indiana Jones...(Yes, I hate her too.)

She's also been there for me for every life issue I've ever struggled with.

She is incredibly dear to me. She lives entirely too far away from me. I miss her.

If we are ever at an old age home together we will be the ones wearing leopard print and she'll have too much lipstick on.

Thanks for sticking with this dear readers. If you believe that you too, will be more inclined to read my blog on a more regular basis because of a similar missive about yourself do contact me. I can make these public or private and even include them in your Christmas card this year if you like. I can tailor them to a particular good time we've had or something you would like the world to know about our relationship. I'm also pretty good off the top of my head, (especially if I like you) Contact me soon, because I have a feeling spots will be filling up.

Outliers-Malcolm Gladwell

Whenever I have something to do outside of the house in the evening I have a rule that I follow. I never, ever, unless I have been very busy the prior few evenings, go home before my child's bedtime. I know that sounds mean but I'm a stay-at-home-mom. (Oh how I wish I had a better word for that-Housewife-UUGH, Homemaker-I think I like that one the best because it implies I'm actually making something....Unemployed? I hate terms like "household engineer" which imply you are embarrassed about what you do and wish to sugar coat it or make sure the world knows you are very important and value yourself and your time despite the fact that you are unemployed (and you are, I'm not sayin' you're not.)

But I digress, I don't go home. This evening, after a meeting at school that blissfully ended at 8pm I headed over to Starbucks where I sat and read for 1.5 hours. Sure I could have read at home I guess, after my peanut was in bed, but really, I would have also thought about
housework (although not too hard) or eBay or emails I need to send out about school that I have not or looked at one of the many decorating blogs that I frequent) At Starbucks there was none of that.

Tonight I began Malcolm Gladwell's book, Outliers, The Story Of Success. It was interesting because Gladwell dispells the "myth" that all you need to get ahead is intelligence and ambition.

From Amazon:

Malcolm Gladwell poses a more provocative question in Outliers: why do some people succeed, living remarkably productive and impactful lives, while so many more never reach their potential? Challenging our cherished belief of the "self-made man," he makes the democratic assertion that superstars don't arise out of nowhere, propelled by genius and talent: "they are invariably the beneficiaries of hidden advantages and extraordinary opportunities and cultural legacies that allow them to learn and work hard and make sense of the world in ways others cannot." Examining the lives of outliers from Mozart to Bill Gates, he builds a convincing case for how successful people rise on a tide of advantages, "some deserved, some not, some earned, some just plain lucky."

I'll be honest. I found this a little offputting because when I read a book about success I'm generally looking for some information on how to BE successful. I felt as if Gladwell was telling me that if the planets were not lined up, then you're pretty much screwed. (He advises you not to even THINK about playing professional Hockey in Canada if you have an October birthday-It's just not likely you'll ever succeed and he makes a compelling case as to why.)

Of course it also confirmed EXACTLY what I have always known-That the jerk in the corner office is really NOT any smarter or ambitious than myself.....;-)

The best grain of advice in the entire book is the fact that if you practice something for 10,000 hours you will become an expert at it. Even Bill Gates & The Beatles had logged 10,000 hours before they really became Bill Gates and The Beatles .

That might sound like a lot but that means if you practice 2 hrs a day you can be an expert in 13.5 years (You'll be doing something in 13.5 years, you might as well do it well) Even at an hour a day you can become really good at something in 10 years. Really good-The difference between 10,000 and 4,000 hrs was literally the difference between being a music teacher and a world class musician. Considering I'm not anywhere near able to teach someone violin (Unless all they want to do is play the suzuki version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star) I'd say even 4000 hours would make me pretty happy.

So decide what you want, stop watching TV, reading decorating blogs (my version of watching TV) or playing online Scrabble. (Another time suck of mine if let it-I generally don't even venture near scrabble because I like it THAT much) and spend an hour a day doing something to make your life better. In 10 years you won't be sorry!

Girls Gone Camping

Well not quite camping....

This past weekend, Jeannine and I pulled a Thelma & Louise. Granted I didn't pick up any sexy hitchhikers, she didn't kill anyone & we both arrived home alive. Aside from that, we did run away from home.

Her family has a cottage on Canandaigua Lake which we used as our getaway.

We took back roads from her home all the way to Canandaigua and stopped at a farm stand and various antique stores along the way. Since we are more Garage sale than Antique Store shoppers we laughed at the outrageous prices and moved along.

We strolled various little shops on Main street. I bought Handmade Orange Clove Soap at the
Wick-edly Scent Soap & Candle Company. The owner was terribly friendly and sent us on over to the New York Wine & Culinary Center where we each had a flight of wine and enjoyed the beautiful surroundings. After dinner at the Muar House Cafe overlooking the water and a stop at Wegmans for provisions (Wegmans Ultimate Chocolate Chip Cookies, Boulder Salt & Vinegar Potato Chips, & Brie & a baguette) and we were off to the cottage.

We were not put off by the fact that there was no running water (we were under the impression that it was not being shut off until Nov!) and managed just fine roughing it. (hence the camping) We drank Jeannine's homemade dessert wine & pear cider and talked late into the evening about just about everything. It's amazing how I can still talk for 6 hours straight to someone I've known for 32 years....( we were 6 & 4 when we met in case you think I'm 52 or something. Not that those of you who ARE 52 should take that as a slight, I'm just not there yet!) Anyway, you would think there would be nothing left to say.

We awoke to a beautiful sunny fall day. The lake & surrounding foliage was beautiful. It was the quickest overnight I've had in ages! There was coffee, laughs, tears, cheese & so much fun!

Hello...My name is

Today at the post office my daughter walked up to the counter with me, looked at the woman waiting to help us and said,

"Hi, I'm Emma. I'm 4 years old. Almost 5. What's your name?"

The postmistress answered that her name was Liz. This started a nice little chat between all three of us. This was in sharp contrast to the woman earlier at the pizza place who ignored us until I had to ask her to help me buy 2 slices of pizza from her and even then, I could tell I was putting her out.

It got me thinking. A long time ago everyone knew everyone else. A really really long time ago people lived in tribes. Much of your survival was based on your relationship to the group. Even when people lived in small villages and towns this was the case, albeit survival meant something different than catching the big woolly mammoth. If you were an asshole maybe they forgot to tell you about the big hunt the next day.....

Today we are so well automated, so busy, and so insulated that we don't know the people we interact with, buy things from, spend time with on the playground.Most likely we will never see these people again, so why bother? Many times we never see or speak with people when going about our daily lives. You can 't do business with a nod and a handshake anymore because most likely, you don't even know that person.

The community, as a whole, is no longer a place we need in order to survive.

In places where I belong to a group like our wonderful pre-school community, my garden club, the library where they tell me I have books on the hold shelf before I even ask, and my wonderful friends with whom I have had dinner with every month for almost the last 10 years, I am part of something bigger. Part of a whole whose survival depends, in part, on me. (Strictly speaking, it's Bridgett's cooking that determines our dinner group's survival. And ok yes, the library would exist without me, however, the relationship that I have with the women there exists because we are interacting.)

Apparently I want to go where everybody knows my name.....

And I'm thinking the next time I'm in line at the pizza place or somewhere similar I may just say,

"Hi, My name is Christine, I'm 32 years old, almost 33..." ;-)