I Might Need An Intervention, But Only a Teensy One

While there are a myriad of issues that we could unpack given the current state of the world, sometimes it’s nice to just unplug from the Drama Queen that 2020 has become. You know, find a hobby and decompress. Read a book. Binge a Netflix series. Hunt murdering psychopaths.

Ok, let me back up a little.

It started about a year ago. I was suddenly seeing ads on my social media for these monthly murder mystery boxes, the latest I thought, in the new subscription box fad. Since I love mysteries, and because curiosity killed the cat, I clicked on the ad to get a better idea of what it was all about.

Oh boy. Probably shouldn’t have done that. (Cue the virtual stalkers.) AD!!! DIFFERENT AD FROM ANOTHER COMPANY WITH THE SAME PRODUCT. FIRST COMPANY BUT DIFFERENT AD! THIRD COMPANY AD! ADD ADS! AND ADS! AND ADDITIONALLY…THESE ADS! ADDY AD AD AD AD AD!

OK! FINE! I’ll subscribe to the %$^*ing thing and see what it’s all about.

Turns out it’s pretty freaking cool. The premise is that a fictional (I hope!) someone is killed and you have to find out who did it. Each month they send you new clues and evidence and you rule out another suspect until, after the sixth box, you figure out whodunit. Since I have a  bunch of weirdo family members who love board games and murder mysteries to boot, it became a family activity. Each month we looked forward to uncovering a new piece of the puzzle. Gathering new clues. Solving new puzzles. (Finding out how many different kinds of ciphers there are!)

You really get to dig in there and say cool things like “You can’t handle the truth!” and “Book’em Danno!” No, none of that was really necessary, but we are big goofballs who apparently can’t even solve fictional murders without a grain of humor mixed in.

Yet….in the back of my mind I remember those *other* companies. That were doing the hard sell when I clicked on the first company’s ad. I began to wonder what those ones were like. Were they different? Were they more murder-y? More puzzle-y? I began to cast my wandering eyes toward these NEW, FRESH companies and wonder what they might bring to the table.

So like any good nerd, I put my research hat on and do a search for the top rated mystery boxes. WOW! There are even more than I anticipated. (Also, escape room boxes and mystery boxes are considered pretty much the same thing I guess.) Luckily, some obsessive sleuther with OCD (other than me!) has already compiled this list, complete with a small overview to help ascertain if it’s something you’d like. Right away I see that the one we have is ranked the second best box in the bunch. (Yeah buddy!) After looking at the others, I decide that the third one seems pretty cool and order a box.

Yeah, THIS box is amazing. Who ranked that list? This one should be number one. Not only do you solve the murder, it uses QR codes which makes it easier than the online method used in the other one. Plus, there were a lot more puzzles to solve which upped our fun factor. The icing on the cake is that each box was a single mystery. No waiting for the next month to say, “Freeze You Murdering Son of a Biscuit!”

For my birthday/Mother’s Day (which are only a few days apart from each other), my oldest son (who was aware of my need to try ‘em all) sent me two boxes from yet another company. These were different in that they had a journal to read and evidence envelopes that to open at certain points during the reading. At the end you solved the case based on what you find in both. This seemed more “old school” detective and although I did Sherlock Homes my way through both, I missed the puzzle-y parts from the others. (To my chagrin, I do enjoy the varied forms of ciphers!)

At this point you’d think that I’d had a good sampling and didn’t need to continue, right? WRONG!

The top rated box had to be number one for a reason, right? So I tried that one too. This one was like a mix of the first and second boxes but a lot of heavier use of online interaction. The puzzles I was missing from the last box are back, which is a plus, and it’s a single part mystery so yay for instant gratification! But this one made me feel a little like a dunce since I had to click on the “Need a hint” buttons often. (And then feel like an idiot when I realize I was just overthinking it.)

Now I’m a junkie who needs their next murder mystery fix. Do you know a mystery that needs a good solving? No? Just an itty, bitty one even? How about something missing that needs finding? No? Any sleuthing needs at all? Fine. I don’t need you to scratch my solver’s itch. I’ll do it myself! There are still six more boxes from the top 10 list that I have yet to try, but I will eventually try them all! And when I do, I’ll be ready to take over the world! And no one can stop me! (Insert good-girl-turned-evil-villain laugh here)

 

 

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I’m Optimistically Terrified, Thank You For Asking

So this year has pretty much been a dumpster fire. Corona virus, murder hornets, odd weather that we normally don’t have for our area (including an earthquake AND a tornado), tanked economies, high unemployment rates and now there are protests and looting. So it’s safe to say that 2020 isn’t winning any awards for, well, anything really.

The emphasis was on Corona virus for so long that I felt like there wasn’t any other topic of conversation available. It was infection rates, death rates, mask requirements, and stay at home restrictions, all day, every day. This, while a little scary, at least reminded the public of the invisible threat that was stalking our population like a kid stalking their mother after hearing the crinkle of a snack being unwrapped. Unfortunately, the George Floyd situation seems to have changed that focus (probably because America has severe ADHD) and apparently this means that COVID isn’t really a problem anymore.

Okay, so you and I both know that’s not true.

But it does seem like something shifted the panic over the global pandemic. Was it the travesty of racism that overshadowed over a million deaths? Was it Memorial Day weekend? The change to nice weather? Phased opening of the economy? Whatever prompted the change in tides, it now seems like people have been given carte blanche to ignore all social distancing and mask wearing protocols.

Personally, I’m optimistically terrified.

On one hand, moving towards a semblance of normal is welcome after months of worry and stress and cloroxing and sanitizing and losing sanity over home schooling. On the other hand, the threat is in no way eliminated (and won’t be until a vaccine is available) and every time my FaceBook explodes with these pictures of non-compliance, I cringe and wonder if I’m the only one in the world that remembers we are still in the middle of a pandemic.

What is great though (said in my sarcasm voice), is that there are still bullies out there who want to make you feel like a moron for being “overly cautious”. People who say that THEY refuse to live in fear. Or that they live in a FREE country so they don’t have to wear a mask. People who feel like this is all a hoax or selfish people who only worry about themselves getting it and not the fact that they could be a carrier. All of these comments are made to target any people who don’t conform to their way of thinking. (Sadly, as a society, we really haven’t grown all that much.)

Ultimately, this means that us “overly cautious” people feel the need to defend ourselves. And the sad part is, we really shouldn’t have to do so. Remember when you were allowed to have a difference in opinion and it wasn’t the end of the world? (Think pre-social media.) Remember when you could say what you think without trying to shove it down someone’s throat until they agreed with you? Sure social media has given us a platform to connect with people but unfortunately, not everyone uses their powers for good.

(Evil villain voice) Muah ha ha ha ha ha ha.

But I really am digressing.              

So now, the economy is starting to open back up and people are starting to feel like this is a sign that everything is “normal” again. I’m not sure if I feel brave enough for the old normal. Not when we have successfully escaped the great and terrible 'Rona thus far.

This means that my household is also taking a phased opening approach. The orthodontist for the 13 year old was deemed necessary as he hadn’t been since December. This was the first time that he has been anywhere in almost 12 weeks. I had visions of fending off giant virus attackers with my handy sword and shield. “Oh no you don’t!” I’d shout loudly. “Not my boy! Take THAT!” And I’d stab them with my sanitized covered sword and send them off to that great petri dish in the sky. None of that really happened however. (But it does show you that writers can have vivid imaginations and a way with imagery!)

He’s also been invited to his first post-Corona virus event. This is much more nerve wracking. As a parent we fight a constant battle with trying to keep our kids safe while trying not to stifle them at the same time. These are the types of situations that we struggle with. Now I have that same sword wielding vision warring with swaddling my kids and rocking them in a rocking chair, all gangly legs hanging off the side as they are way too big to be coddled. (You know, like in that creepy/sweet book where the mom rocks the grown son?)

But we can’t help it, us over protective parents. We put a lot of work into getting them where they are today. Teething, toddling, tantrums and teenage eye rolls….that’s a lot of time and work invested to throw caution to the wind now! Not to mention that this baby making factory is CLOSED. In capital letters, with rusty padlocks on the gates and dry tumbleweeds blowing through. (To emphasize just how closed my uterus is!) So it’s not like I can pop out a replacement human or two if someone breaks one. (I’m looking at you Corona Virus.)

I guess what I’m trying to say is, if we decline an invitation in the next few weeks, please know that it’s not us, it’s you. We can’t quite be sure where you’ve been, but we’re positive good ol’ Rona is sneaky AF. We’re not hedging our bets.

 

 

 

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Quarantine Journal: Day Two Hundred Eleventy Four

Captain’s Log- Day 1: School has been cancelled for the next month. College daughter has had spring break extended another week while they figure out a plan.  Being the OCD mom that I am, of course I’ve made up a schedule to keep my kids on a routine and make sure that they don’t fall behind in their schooling. Both husband and I are working so we elected college girl to stand in as the substitute teacher.

Captain’s Log- Day 2: The kids seem to think this whole ordeal is like an extra-long weekend. Twelve just asked if he could have a sleepover “during the week”. Seemed annoyed when I said no. (May have been the incredulous look that went with the response.) Not sure if I’m hoping to continue working or if I could use a quarantine vacation too.

Captain’s Log- Day 4: Both husband and I have been deemed “essential” by our employers. Had to cancel family vacation. Kids are bummed but they have a month off from school why are they complaining? Dad and I on the other hand could use a pitcher of margaritas and a week alone in a child-free zone in our house. Too bad there aren’t any child free zones in our house.

Captain’s Log- Day 7: Six year old has decided that he doesn’t want “fake school”, he wants “real school”. No interest in virtual meetings with classmates and teacher. Father and I have started to put some more money away for his therapy fund as there will probably be an additional nine months of “When I was in quarantine…” stories.

Captain’s Log- Day 10: All three male species in my house are starting to feel the loss of sports, both professional and school. Oh no, they’re still watching ESPN all the time, but "it’s just not the same."

Captain’s Log- Day 12: School closure was just extended another month. Both the kids and I are crying. (But only one of us is hiding in a closet with wine and chocolate.) Why can’t they close it in 2 week intervals instead if a month at a time? Do you know how daunting the prospect of another 4 weeks of home school is? 

Captain’s Log- Day 14: Why does the college girl never seem to have any school work? #itsgoingtotakeamiracleforhertopass

Captain’s Log- Day 15: School is cancelled. Non-essential businesses are closed. Two thirds of the work force is at home. Life has been cancelled. Try again in 6 weeks.

Captain’s Log- Day 17: The substitute teacher has quit 3 times in the last week. I told her she can run, but she can’t hide. Actually, she can’t run either. We’re on lock down! Muah ha ha ha ha ha.

Captain’s Log- Day 20: All the talk lately is the stimulus check we are getting. It would sure be nice to use that money towards a vacation….of all the years that we need a vacation and the zombie apocalypse makes it so that we can’t go anywhere. Guess I’m planning a rustic vacation to the living room with a side trip through the family room.

Captain’s Log- Day 22: Florida re-opened the beaches. Mobs of people flocked there. The Corona virus count spiked 1,400+ overnight. Not only can you not fix stupid, apparently you can’t quarantine it, give it common sense or smack the smart into it either.

Captain's Log- Day 23: I'm living in the movie "Groundhog Day".

Captain’s Log- Day 25: The kids are starting to get a little feral. We’ve decided to treat them like puppies and tire them out as much as possible in the evenings. Went great until the youngest had an accident on the rug. No dog bones for him the rest of the evening!

Captain’s Log- Day 27: Woke up to F%$@ing snow on the ground. SNOW. ON. THE. GROUND. We just finally started having nice weather so the kids could murder each other outside instead of inside and now there’s snow. FFS.

Captain’s Log- Day 28: Still an essential employee. Just got my 47^th call about one of the kids being a d-bag to the teacher. Looking for Xanax on the black market.

Captain’s Log- Day 30: The dog just asked me if we are ever leaving the house again. Apparently we are interrupting her leisurely days of napping in peace.

Captain’s Log- Day 33: I just saw an article about people protesting about their civil rights being violated because the government is ordering lockdowns and business closures. (I think they may have drank the same moron juice as the Floridians.) How about those idiots are the ones violating MY rights to breathe non-Corona virus air? Huh? This caused me to go on a rant about how ignorant and selfish people can be and how they will be the reason why we are still going through this bullshit for the next six months and if they had a kid who had respiratory issues maybe then they might get a f$%^ing clue. Husband had to ply me with dark chocolate and ice cream to settle me down.

Captain’s Log- Day 34: Now the two boys have even more time to beat each other up, argue about whose turn it is (for everything) and fart on each other. Yay. Said no one in my house.

Captain’s Log- Day 37: Since School is still canceled, now we get to teach our kids more than review material. Not only don't my students like me but I think they suspect I’m having an affair with the principal.

Captain’s Log- Day 38: Alexa, homeschool the children.

Captain’s Log- Day 39: COVID-19 has cancelled TWO of my vacations now. If you find me in a closet with photo albums from previous vacations, just stroke my hair and tell me I’m pretty. Then back away slowly while throwing dark chocolate Hershey kisses in my direction. Whatever you do, don’t act scared. I can smell fear.

Captain’s Log- Day 42: Or is 43? 45? Who’s in charge of keeping track of this crap? Whoever it is, you’re fired! What, it’s me? Then I’m fired! And if you saw how badly I just did on my son’s math test last week, you wouldn’t argue with me.

Captain’s Log- Day 46 (possibly?): Is it acceptable to have margaritas at my desk in the office? Asking for a friend.

Captain’s Log- Day 49 (ish): SCHOOL IS CLOSED FOR THE REST OF THE YEAR. LORD JESUS, PLEASE MAKE THIS VIRUS GO AWAY! OR SEND MORE VODKA. WHICHEVER IS EASIEST.

Captain’s Log- Day Two hunnert eleventy niner eighty: Shur haven’t drunked this morning at all, why ya ashking? No, you shlurring my wordsh! That’s juss rude.

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Surviving Quarantine With Your Children (A How-to Guide)

These last 10 weeks of quarantine have been really rough. Wait, what? It’s only been TWO weeks? Geez, they must have been rougher than I thought. If, like me, you are losing your ever loving mind being confined into your shrinking shoebox of a house with the demon spawn that you once adored (before breathing the same air for days on end), you probably need some tips to make it through this time. Well you are in luck because I have compiled my “Top 7 Ways of Surviving Your Children in a Global Pandemic.”

1.) Don’t have kids. This is the easiest way to avoid losing your mind during a mandatory quarantine with your family. If you HAVE to have any, maybe just one. That will cut down your chances of having to ever say things like, “Stop farting on each other” and “If you don’t share that paper towel tube I will throw it away and no one will play with it!” If it’s too late, and you’ve had many children, then hopefully the rest of these hints work for you.

2.) Try to vary your routine like a drunken clown on a unicycle is your personal assistant. Yes, kids do great with routines and structure….normally. But all bets are off in the zombie apocalypse. Keep that daily schedule varied and keep them rug rats guessing. Can’t find mommy? Is it because she’s playing hide and seek? Taking a bathroom break? Crying in the closet? What will we have for lunch today? Homemade lunchables? Make your pizzas? Peanut butter crackers, juice boxes and whatever else is in the snack cupboard because I-just-can’t-do-this-meal-creativity-thing anymore? Who knows? Every day is an adventure when your grip on reality is determined by (the number of days in captivity and quantities of available cocktails) your imagination!

3.) Make sure to incorporate “gym class” into their daily schedule. For some reason these kids are bouncing around this house like pogo sticks on crack. Their activity levels are only matched by their level of whining about how unfair (fill in the blank) is. The only way you’re going to get five minutes of peace tonight is if you can tire out the little A-holes enough to crash like a college frat boy after alpha gamma omega’s post rush week toga party.

4.) Don’t underestimate parental creativity. There is only so much math I can argue about, I mean, TEACH my kids before I want to choke the person who invented common core. Time to dust off those “Back in my day” gems and teach them some useful skills….like how to con your kids into free labor in the name of showing them valuable “life skills”. In the mood for some cookies? Home economics 101. Car need an oil change? Auto Mechanics 101. Balancing your hot-mess-because-of- apocalypse-stress-shopping checkbook? Finance 101. Need a dirty martini? Bartending 101. Need to clean out the garage? Organization 101. Seriously people, think of the benefits. A clean house and a kid pumped full of all sorts of useful tools in their toolbox of life. What do you mean she’s only 4? You’re never too young to learn how to cook a 12 course meal. (Please note that is meant to be funny because of the age of the child and that I’m not really expecting a 4 year old to cook. Everyone knows that’s at least a 6 year old job. Geez.)

5.) Don’t listen to those people who tell you to “make the most of this time”. Unless you’ve lived in this bomb shelter we are currently calling home don’t talk to me. I have become one with the dishwasher and washing machines because we are spending so much time together lately. Gauging by the amount of food consumed on a daily basis, I think that there may be extra children living here. I deal with tantrums and crying and after I’m done I wipe my face and go take care of the kid’s tantrums and crying. We are trying our best to make happy memories but I’m pretty sure we are just racking up more future therapist bills. #Ipromisewearetryingourverybesthere

6.) Take advantage of electronic devices. For the love of all that’s holy, now is NOT the time to meter their screen time. One of the few perks of being stuck in our homes for years (fine, weeks that only feel like years) is that we get to have all of technology with us. Tablets, computers, smart tvs, digital reading devices…all of them stuck in our isolation chamber right along with us. (Thank the good Lord himself!) And after the 937^th fight that you’ve refereed between your precious progeny, a little electronic interference can be seriously needed. Netflix and chill baby. Or Amazon Prime and Chill, Apple TV and chill, Hulu and chill…IDGAF how you chill but if you and your siblings don’t go into a separate room and stop beating on each other I will flip my shit. You better chiggity check yo’self before I wreck yourself. Here, have an iPad. Oooh, look, an academic app! Sit down, shut up and learn dammit. Alexa, pour me a cocktail and play some 90’s dance music. Siri tell me the weather on Mars. Hey Google, how do I build a spaceship?

(What do you mean there are a lot of references to alcohol? Listen judgy judgerson, we all have our own coping mechanisms. Now get down off your high horse and come have a mai tai.)

7.) Speaking of alcohol….. Hey, a little day drinking never hurt, right? I mean, it’s not like you’re &*%$@#! going anywhere in this $#&!*@#  quarantine. No one is going anywhere. We’re all going nowhere and it is going to last forever! So if you want to have a liquid lunch on day 42 of self-isolation, who’s going to say something? Those twerps? Please. Everyone knows that it’s your word against theirs. Plus, who are they going to tell? You’re sleeping with the principal.

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Surviving the Black Winter of 2020

I’m not sure if Mercury was in retrograde in the shadow of Jupiter’s moon Europa or if we just had the extreme misfortune to have a neon flashing sign above our house that screamed, “Germs and Viruses Welcome Here!”, but February was not our best month. In fact, I’m pretty sure that our household was solely responsible for any stock price surges that may have occurred from the companies who manufacture Lysol spray and Clorox wipes.

Not that either of them helped diffuse the situation AT ALL.

Having endured 40 New York winters mean that I’m pretty much used to the colds and illnesses that like to hang out with the frigid months, like friggin’ stalkers that just won’t go home. Add to that the youngest child’s predilection for being sick from November straight through to March due to his weak preemie lungs, and it’s just another day of mayhem in our crazy household.

I think the bacteria and germs were starting to take offense at how blasé we were at their appearance so they decided to up the ante.

It started with a cold that my daughter seemed to turn into a sinus infection. (Like pulling a rabbit out of a hat!) She very nicely shared the germs with my husband and me, effectively making 3/5 of our house a walking cold medicine commercial. Not to be left out, the 12 year old jumped in to join the fun, making it a full 80% of our domicile infected by this seemingly innocuous little pain in the ass cold.

Meanwhile, the youngest, who had his normal on and off cough since winter got started, is now the healthiest person in our house. Unfortunately, he has a little bit of mom’s (occasional) overachiever gene and decided that not only was he going to get this cold, he was going to get rid of it and then  host it again for a second time!

Bu wait! If you act now, we’ll throw in pneumonia AND Flu A for the low, low price of a shockingly high fever and one panicked school nurse! That’s right, we’ll throw it in for FREE!* (*Additional charges in the form of co-payments may apply.)

By this time, I think it had also worked its way around to a second run at me and my husband. Our house could have doubled for a pharmacy at one point with antibiotics, nebulizer meds, multiple cold remedies, cough syrups, cough drops, throat lozenges, tissues, and multiple forms of Vitamin C. What is generally the shortest month of the year turned into some sort of hunger games type survival of the fittest challenge. Quite frankly, we all failed. Hard. Those germs kicked our ass and made us their bitch.

Having crawled our way to the finish line of February, we are looking forward to March having some fresher air and a less, uh, germy personality. Sorry February, but you didn’t win any popularity contests this year. Better luck in 2021.

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I Don't Want to Grow Up (But Unfortunately I Did)

Remember when you were a kid and you were always in a big rush to grow up? Your parents would tell you not to be in such a hurry, that these were the “best years of your life” and you’d just shake your head because they were old and didn’t know what they were talking about. So you grew up. And realized, “Crap! They were right!”

Don’t get me wrong, there are definitely some perks to being “all growed up”. Like making my own bed time. (That’s right, no one tells me what time to go to bed! Not even my own body! Take that you old bag of bones!) I can eat cake for breakfast and there’s no one to tell me that I can’t. (Well, other than my metabolism, but she’s a rank old bitch. Never lets me have any fun anymore.) Still, even though there are some bonuses to adulting, I can’t help but feel like being a kid was 1,000 times better. 

Thus, I present to you my TOP FIVE REASONS WHY BEING A KID IS SO MUCH MORE AWESOME THAN GETTING YOUR GROWN UP ON:

5.) Bills and all the money type things.  Did I ever know what bills were when I was a kid? I don’t think I understood that concept until maybe middle school. Hell, I didn’t even know we were poor. Or what poor was. Not only do kids not have to know what bills are, they don’t have to pay ‘em either. In fact, I’m pretty sure most kids are oblivious to how that whole system works. The light switch turns the light on, the remote turns the TV on, the WiFi signal is strong, and the food is in the cupboard. How did it get there? Who knows? Now give me another cookie please. My metabolism is cranking over here and I need some fuel.

4.) Oh, and while we're on the subject of metabolism... Ahh, the days when I could stuff all the garbage foods in my face hole and somehow manage to lose a pound. Remember when a happy meal was your happy place? And that was before the people cracked down on the fast food standards. Back then it was mystery meat chicken, red dyes, and all the gluten, high fructose, and carbohydrates we could handle. Our childlike selves could wolf that down and follow it with whatever else our cast iron stomachs could want in life. These days I can’t eat McDonald's because if I so much as LOOK at something fried, my thighs swell up three pounds. Each. Not to mention that I’m an old lady now so it gives my stomach issues too.

3.) The vacation package was awesome. I really feel like I need to go back to my childhood just so that I could appreciate all my free time more. There was spring break, and winter break and Christmas break (I’m old so it was still Christmas break back then) and long, glorious summers filled with lazy days. It’s possible I’m romanticizing the heyday of my youth, but I doubt it. I’m not one to exaggerate much…(More than 40 times a day.) Now that I’m older, I still get vacations, although not as many. They certainly aren’t as fun filled OR lazy either. I get to be the one planning the vacations, packing, juggling finances and half a dozen other adult-y type boring things while my children have the audacity to reap what I have sown. You just wait my darlings. One day this will be you. Muah ha ha ha. Muah ha ha ha. Muah ha ha ha ha.

2.) Someone to “baby” you when you’re ill. Remember when you were sick and your mom or dad would pamper you? Let you lay on the couch and watch cartoons. Let you eat whatever foods you felt up to eating. Cover you up with a cozy blanket. Bring you tissues and medicine and ginger ale. Then you grow up and not only can you not afford to get sick since you have a household to run and a life to live, but then you feel guilty for using sick time to stay home from work and pamper yourself. (As much as you can consider being passed out in an over-the-counter drug induced healing quasi-coma to be “pampering”.) Getting sick becomes a giant time suck that just ends up leaving me pissed off and frustrated for not having the energy to get all the things done that refused to take a break while I was out of commission. (Can you believe that? The nerve.)

But probably the biggest reason why being an adult is super over rated and why I am one hundred times over it is:

1.) The meal plan was pre-planned. And free! If I had to choose the one most hated grown up job that I have, it’s cooking dinner. No one ever tells you how much you’ll hate being the one having to come up with different dinner options over and over and over….until you die. Or that it doesn’t matter what you want to cook, it depends on how much time you have to slap dinner together after work and (most importantly) what 8 foods that your pickiest child has deigned to eat. No one tells you that you’ll hoard cookbooks designed to help boost your creativity in the cooking arena but that you’ll never have time to actually read them so they sit on a shelf neglected until you die and your kids either take them or donate them to the thrift store. Kids have the benefit of just sitting down and eating without having the forethought or the agony of shopping, planning, or preparation. There’s a reason my number one lottery expense is to hire a cook. And maybe a masseuse. But most definitely a cook. (Or four. Just to cover my bases and all.)

So for all my fellow adults who use their kids as an excuse to hold onto their childhood a little longer and live vicariously through them, this one’s for you. May you wring just as much joy out of your second childhood as your first. Just not as much as your third which is when you’re a grandparent and can savor all the perks of your children’s children with half the calories and none of the guilt.

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Just Say NO! (To Elves)

When my third child was around five or six years old, I briefly considered getting him an “Elf on the Shelf”. I quickly came to my senses when I realized that, in order to remember to move the elf nightly, I’d have to write it on my to-do list (this was before I had the whole “there’s an app on my smartphone for that” addiction) and that it would probably get misplaced somewhere (as all my lists are wont to do) and the child would see it, thus ruining the whole “This creepy doll moves itself nightly” idea.

As it turns out, that was probably one of the smarter choices in my life.

Because OF COURSE the overachieving moms had to get ahold of this. Now, not only does the creepy doll have to move, he does hijinks. Hijinks for cripes sake! There’s the cute kind (He plays cards with the other dolls and stuffed animals), the funny slash gross kind, (he’s pooping a starlight mint in the toilet, har de har har), the naughty kind, (he’s tp’ing the Christmas tree), and the naughty x rated kind, because we can’t just have nice things (he’s holding a $1 out to the naked, pole dancing Barbie doll).

Quick side note on Stripper Barbie…You just know that some smart ass Dad did that as a joke and that the Mom took a picture to post a “See what I have to deal with?” complaint but then all the people who have a sense of humor and don’t have a stick up our butt cracked up because, well, it’s funny. (For grownups, not kids! Geez people, get a grip.)

Anyway, so the damn creepy doll now does stuff and now I’m thinking, “Wait, I’m letting some stuffed creeper get away with behavior that my kid would get punished for, but it’s ok because it’s Ginger/Snowflake/Buddy (or whatever dumb, cutesy name they have) did it?” Yeah, this isn’t going to happen, sorry.

But wait, there’s more! If you order now, you can get the stuffed creeper to bring your kids more crap that they don’t need! Yes, that’s right, now they can bring movies, goodies, food, or toys, because Christmas isn’t already bringing a ton of shit that won't fit in your house until you rearrange the entire contents of every room just to be able to squish it in! It's almost as if someone said, "Let’ see, can we make December even more expensive? Yes we can!"

Plus, is anyone doing the math on this? If you start the elf when the kid is four, they are probably going to let you keep moving the elf until at least age 11 (because even if their beliefs change, they probably won’t tell you for FOMO on presents). This is eight years times 24 nightly shenanigans (provided the elf comes out Dec 1- 25) which totals 192. This is 192 different ideas that you have to come up with for a doll that is basically just Santa’s snitch.

I’m not saying that you couldn’t come up with that many ideas, I’m sure there are 1,000 web pages for this. There are probably Pinterest boards across the Universe pinned with smart, creative things to make the Elf antics fresh and imaginative. Just as I’m sure that people who pin these ideas might actually use them and not just pin 400 things that they have good intentions of cooking/making/doing, but then never do. (Ahem, not that I would ever do that!) It just seems like a lot of, well, effort. And time. And those are two things that I seriously lack in December. Because this month is already jam packed with tree decorating, ornament making, cookie baking, party hosting, present wrapping, and stress eating and I don’t think I have any spare minutes to fit in “creating unnecessary stress due to forgetting about moving an elf” every night. (Let’s be honest, in this household we’d probably have a “lazy elf” or at least, that’s what we’d have to tell the kids when he was in the same spot for twelve days.)

Yeah, this looks about right.
(Image credit: The Internet)

                As if this whole over the top crap wasn’t enough though, now those kids are starting to tell other kids what those damn elves are doing. This, in turn, is making all non-elf households feel the pressure. Like when the five year old comes home and tells me we need to get an elf on the shelf like kid x has. Uh, hell to the no. We don’t need this additional pressure. Now the overachieving “I have time to stay up until 3 AM every night creating elf miracles” is starting to affect the ‘I’m minding my own elf business” business.

Frankly, it’s just wrong.

So people, do your part, by just saying, “NO!” to elves. And just to be safe, maybe say no to shelves too. Honestly, what good are they anyway? They just fill up with dust catching junk and knick knacks. (And creepy, smirking elves that are playing hide and snitch!)

Hell no, we don't, uh, move from this spot until Christmas!
(Image credit: The Internet for the win!)

 

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My Life, The Hallmark Movie

Almost as soon as the Thanksgiving dinner dishes have been washed, the holiday season becomes THE HOLIDAY SEASON. (The capital letters make it even more important.) Everything becomes larger than life. The sun is brighter, the air is sweeter, the fruitcake is extra fruity, and the Christmas lights are extra twinkly.

Plus, it’s one of the few times my kids earn their keep.

No one questions your love of the holidays if you have young kids. It’s like you’re not allowed to be a Christmas loving freak of nature unless you’re doing it for your children’s enjoyment. (This would bother me a lot more if they weren’t the same people who also proclaim that anyone NOT in the holiday spirit must be a Grinch. What the eff people? Make up my mind!) If I wear Christmas earrings, go overkill on the baking and decorating, and look like Buddy the Elf on crack, everyone thinks it’s making the best of it for the kids.

Uh, yeah, for the kids…..riiiighhht. Totally not for me. Because that would be totally lame, right? But ya know, gotta pull out all the stops for those dang needy kids of mine. It’s sooo annoying. But it makes them happy so... grin and bear it I guess. Grrr.

Who has thirty two holiday movies on the DVR? Um, I think it was the dog. She really seems to enjoy a nice feel good movie this time of year. Give her some hot cocoa with marshmallows and she’s really in her glory.

Who wanted the decorations out before Thanksgiving since it was so late this year that they felt they were getting gypped of a full season of Claus, trees, and snowmen? That must have been my husband. What do you mean you don’t think so? Just because he barely notices the regular décor, it doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate a nice wooden Santa plaque or a snowman trinket. I mean geez, guys.

Who has a calendar of December events like tree decorating, ornament making, cookie baking, and holiday parties? Oh, that’s the five year old’s handiwork. You know, that kid just LOVES being organized. It’s really endearing to see him getting his shit together at such a young age. Yup, that kid’s going places alright.

Who has different wrapping paper and gift tags to differentiate between ahem, specific senders? Uh, that’s the dog too. See, she likes to watch those Christmas movies while she’s wrapping presents. It’s really one of her favorite parts of the month. Don’t believe me? Just ask her.

Okay, okay, you got me. It’s me. All me. I love it every little bit of it. The happy, shiny people who are nicer this time of year, the cold weather that makes warm sweaters and  hot cocoa ten times more awesome, the lights on the houses, the snow on the ground (that is 100% allowed to melt on December 26^th) and the gingerbread cookies. (Most definitely the gingerbread cookies. Yeah, sure, I could have them anytime of the year, but they just don’t taste the same.) I love the family gatherings and games and laughter. I like making those damn annoying salt dough ornaments for the 20^th year in a row and decorating our tree to within an inch of its life. I love it all, do you hear me? And I don’t care how crazy that makes me.

Because when you think about it, what’s NOT to love during that magical time between Thanksgiving and Christkwanzukka? (I think I safely encompassed the majority of holiday revelers there, right?) Between parties and food, family and friends, presents and presence, the whole season is way too short to be mashed into a few weeks. At least it is if they expect us to continue to work those 40 hours a week and be productive members of society anyway. (It’s always that pesky job that’s getting in the way of my leisure time activities. The nerve!) So I guess in a way, my life does start to resemble a Hallmark movie during this time of year….you know, the one with the delusional woman lives in a fantasy world that she created herself? But it’s okay, they all know me here. 

What’s that? Christmas carols? Count me in! Fa la la la la la la la la.

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The (Pre) Teenage Walking Dead in My House

Once you make it through to the double digit years, things become interesting. And if you’re like me, and your kids are already weirdos, things just get MORE interesting. And stinky. Especially if you have pubescent boys. The good news is that the funk that has become a permanent stench fixture in your house will eventually go away. Approximately three years after said stink bomb finally moves out.

But I digress. I believe I was heading somewhere else with this…

Oh yes, things become MORE interesting. After the sweet double digits, (ten, eleven, and if you’re lucky, twelve) you will enter the Twilight Zone. A.K.A. The Teenage Years. Each kid will demonstrate this teenage-ness differently. And at different times. Some kids may resemble human beings until they are as old as fifteen! Some may exhibit the signs of madness earlier. Since my son has always been a little bit precocious, he’s decided that twelve is a good time to tune up his teenager-y ‘tude.

Now, before you start the flogging, I want to preface this by saying that he’s still pretty much a good kid. And I still love him, even in his fits of douchery. But he’s also developing per the normal hormonal evolutionary chart dictates. Though this manifests differently in every household, it typically starts with “the sounds”.

My daughter sounded like an air leak in a tire. Every time I turned around, there it was: a hissing air noise akin to a deflating balloon that, lo and behold, actually came from my teenaged, eye-rolling, wind whistling kid o’mine. Now that my son has entered this phase, he’s started a more masculine version that is a cross of an 80’s teenager mixed with a zombie. Like a groan that vaguely sounds like a disgruntled exclamation of “Mo-om!” mixed with caveman grunting.

Although I will never admit this to him, I actually pretty impressed with the level of disgust that he manages to convey with a single (pre) teenaged sigh-groan. He really nails the whole “My parents are SOOOO lame” without uttering a single syllable. If he wasn’t such an athletic sports type, I’d definitely encourage him to try out for the drama club. Such skills! Like a child prodigy!

Then again, I may be biased. What with donating half of his genetic make-up and all.

Realistically I knew that we wouldn’t sail through the turbulent teenage years without some sort of rough seas and stormy weather, even with the kid who was once dubbed “the nicest boy they’d ever met” by an acquaintance of ours. But you can’t blame me for thinking that if it was going to skip a kid, it would be this paragon of virtue right here. The kid got an award for being nice. In sixth grade. When kids have long since found the dormant jerk gene that seems inevitably found in middle school. (Wouldn’t that make a good title for a self-help book? “Taming Your Inner Jerk Gene”)

Luckily we’ve gone through this phase before and we know that it only lasts until they graduate college. Kidding, we don’t actually know when it ends because all our kids are still jerks. Ha! Kidding again! College seems to knock the snot out of them for a few years and they regain their humanity. Or maybe it’s a class in their junior year. Either way it seems like they gain some respect and understanding of the real world, or at least enough that they realize that their parents weren’t just big meanies out to spoil their lives. (Or were we? Muah ha ha ha ha ha)

So for any or my fellow parents who are starting to hear their own “sounds” from their teens/pre-teens, just know that I am here for you. As long as you realize that by “here for you” I mean not there where you are but here, where I actually am. Probably hiding from my own teenage sounds. Not in a closet with a book, a flashlight, and a package of Chips Ahoy. Nooo, uh, totally not that. (Brushes cookie crumbs from shirt.)

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Just in Case, You Better Knock on Wood

There are two types of people in this world: Those who are superstitious and those who live their lives recklessly walking under ladders and jinxing the entire world with their taunting of the universe without the courtesy of knocking on wood.

You probably can’t guess which group that I fall into.

I don’t even know how I became so superstitious. I didn’t grow up with an Italian Nonna who made lentils on New Year’s or warned me of the dangers of someone giving me the dreaded evil eye. I didn’t grow up in ancient Aztec culture where humans were sacrificed to honor their Gods. I am not part of the Chinese culture with their hatred of certain numbers (Four is EVIL!!) and lucky feng shui furniture placement. I wasn’t even born in India, which according to the Google-meister is the most superstitious country in the world.

I know that there are probably people out there who subscribe to more than just a few old wives tales and hand me down folklore, which amounts to my level of supernatural paranoia. I am, unfortunately, susceptible to learning about NEW things to add to the list though. (Damn reading will get you every time!)

The perfect example of this is Mercury. That damn planet was in retrograde for like, EVER! Apparently you aren’t supposed to make any major changes during a retrograde period because your cat will spontaneously combust and your aunt will choke on her meatloaf. Or something. Hold on while I refresh my memory on this. (Sometimes I retain a fact but forget the why. Limited space and all that.)

<Insert pleasant hold music here>

Holy crap, information overload! Mercury in retrograde can cause irritability, moodiness, and forgetfulness. You shouldn’t start new projects or take trips. Don’t agree to anything. Don’t buy any new technology. And for the love of all that is holy, don’t make any life changing decisions. You know what? Just stay in the house. Retrograde only comes like 3 or 4 times a year and lasts about three weeks each period. We can all afford to hibernate in our homes for three months a year, right?

Realistically I don’t think that Mercury’s alleged backward movement is causing all the havoc that I mentioned. I really don’t. But then again, there’s this teeny part of me that says, "Well, why chance it?" Is it really hurting me to hold off my wild, impulsive decisions to quit my job and be a horse wrangler in Montana? Perhaps some introspection is needed here. Let me consult my tarot cards for clarification.

It’s not even planetary motions that got me whack. Do you know how many old wives tales that there are? Because I don’t. What I DO know is that I’ve probably heard a few dozen of them, probably in my impressionable, formative years. They stuck. And I pass them on to my kids, who will pass them on to their kids, thus repeating a very tidy superstitious circle. It doesn’t even matter to me if modern science manages to debunk that myth, I will still yell at you for going outside with wet hair because you WILL CATCH YOUR DEATH OF PNEMONIA!!! (I may not have had a Nonna, but apparently I am one deep inside where it counts.)

So if you’re planning on making an outrageous statement about the weather (“Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day!”) and you aren’t willing to knock on wood just on the off chance that the weather Gods are spiteful and want to (quite literally) rain on your parade, well, that’s your own fault buddy. Maybe next time you’ll learn a valuable lesson and throw salt over your left should when you spill it in order to nullify the effects of that penny that you picked up ON TAILS?!?!? GASP! (Shakes head.) When will you learn?

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