Ludicrous

A few months back, my husband and I witnessed the most ridiculous television commercial. It opens with a couple of young kids watching TV in a dark family room. Next you see the kids levitate ala superman as they are slowly sucked toward the TV. Just when I think, good, somebody out there gets it - here's a mocking commentary on the evils of television and its suffocating grasp on our children, the mom and dad pop their heads into the shot with a cheery, "Hey kids, we've got donuts" (or something like that). Now we see the vortex of television go limp as the kids run toward the Dunkin Donuts contraband delivered by their folks. That's right kids, not only do you win, but you can have it all. Watch all the television you want AND feast on fatty fried donuts.

Got Smarts?

Well it's official. My ten year-old daughter is smarter than me. I knew it would happen, but I was blindsighted by how quickly it morphed from a nagging fear to an absolute reality. I'm not exactly upset by this news. I think it's great. My daughter has a sophisticated world-view and an incredible wit that will render her more capable in just about any situation than I have ever been. In terms of genetic hand-me-downs, she got the best of both me and my husband and I am grateful. You go girl!

School is out...

I've just spent nine straight days with the kids (winter break) and witnessed an astounding array of bad behavior. An hour ago, Nora accidentally hit Aidan with a carrying tote for a stuffed dog. As Aidan began to cry, Nora beat him to the punch with a much louder and more emphatic outbreak of tears. "I'm so sorry Aidan", rang out from the upstairs hallway. Meanwhile, Aidan was now in the kitchen, with no sign of tears or injury. While Nora cried her guilty heart out, I validated Aidan's miraculous recovery and directed him to tell Nora that he was alright and that he accepts her apology. A moment later, I heard Aidan say, "Nora, I'm alright and I expect your apology". Well, that just about says it all - I'm out.

Fiddler on the Roof

I'm writing tonight while listening to the original sound recording of Fiddler on the Roof. My mother used to sing me to sleep with a track from the show called, Do you love me? I used to feel so special as my eyelids grew heavy. This week has been school vacation week for my kids and we've had some good times, Boston Science Museum and the amazing Harry Potter exhibit and bad times, poor Rowan's first tooth extraction. That part happened this morning and that cursed baby molar proved to be a rough one. I expect I'll look much older tomorrow morning. On the plus side, Nora thinks we should all head to the Plasma Hotel for a few days of respite - you know the one, where Eloise lives. I suppose it could be a handy spot to lay low if we experience some blood loss on the way.

Instant Bonus Room

You know you're desperate for "space" when just days before your big New Year's Eve party, your husband suggests you invite your favorite contractor over for a quote to create a bonus room by bumping out the back of the house. Oh my God. Yeah, and eight years from now we'll be footing an extra $75K a year bill for the oldest child to head off to college. Is my projection that ludicrous? And two years after that, another kid will go, and so on... Anyhoo, I saved the day by suggesting that our guestroom be converted into an upstairs den/playroom instead. In the eight years we've been in this house, I can count on one hand the number of times our guest room has gotten any action and it's really dropped off lately. We've noticed that if people can get home to sleep in their own beds, they will. I got to work right away knowing that the $2000 I might spend to furnish this room would be a far cry from any would-be bonus room construction costs. During the course of a Sunday, I heaved and hauled and solicited the help of underdeveloped muscles (not mine) to carve the space for our new room all the while relocating the middle child to another bedroom. The result has been nothing less than magical. My kids go nuts for change. The furniture arrived two weeks ago and we just painted the walls an outlandish shade of green and bought a second TV. Wallah - our mini bonus room looks amazing and middle child loves his new digs with its crazy jogs and angles. Everybody wins.

More Sugar Please?

In our house, waffles and confectioners sugar have become a welcome duo. Funny how sleepovers and morning-after breakfast at the homes of friends can so readily broaden our kids' worldview (and expectations). For months my youngest has called the tantalizing powder "infectioners sugar", but this weekend she asked for "perfectioners sugar". I didn't know if she was just stepping up her request (perhaps suggesting that I'd been buying generic or something), or if it had finally reached a supreme place of status for her. And I really don't know which will eventually do more harm - infectioners or perfectioners. Thank God I discovered a simple way to record these hilarious gems without missing a beat. Whenever one of my kids says or does something that I want to remember, I walk over to the wall calendar in our kitchen, grab the hanging marker and jot it down. The result is brilliant because I know down to the day what happened and when. At the end of the year when I replace the calendar, I grab an index card and transfer the highlights so I can record them elsewhere. Ta-da!

Seeing Dollar Signs

My kids are well on their way to developing a full-blown complex. I can't help myself, but in my world everything has a dollar value. When my son pours more orange juice for himself, I remind him, "Go easy on the juice Aidan, you know that bottle cost almost six dollars?" Or on the weekends when we have waffles and pancakes, I'm such a nut case when they go for more maple syrup. I'm all like - "Whoa! Easy with that stuff. That stuff is like spun gold - it cost sixteen dollars". Shamefully, I even perpetuated my daughter's preference for the fake stuff - Aunt Jemima and Mrs. Butterworth can thank me later for the increased revenue. Granted, I am a child of children of the Depression, but this is getting rediculous.