Happy Blogoversary To Me

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Friday is the first anniversary of the launch of  The Lucky Mom.  (Big smile.)

I’ll never forget the moment I clicked the PUBLISH button the first time, and held my breath in anticipation, watching the stats, waiting for the first click.  For the first six months of its existence, everyone most of the people who read it were friends of mine, and strangers to whom I gave pathetic pleadings for validation.

Tens of thousands of views later, I think it’s time I started referring to myself as a blogger.  Maybe soon I’ll even call myself a writer.

I am so grateful to those of you who have followed me down this path.  So like Sandra Bullock on Oscar night, I’m going to thank a few people.

Erin – you were my first follower. 🙂

Pepper – you were the first person to share one of my links. 🙂

Blondy Magee– you were the first person I didn’t know to follow me. 🙂

Eugenia – you have left the most comments. 🙂

Life in the Trenches – you showed me the Facebook admin page. 🙂

Mr. Wonderful – you have given me the most inspiration. 🙂

The Trailblazer, Slick, and The Caboose – you have given me the most material. 🙂

Because I’m feeling nostalgic, and because only about 10 people read it, I’m going to re-publish (is that a word?) my first post.  Which is still one of my favorites.  (You really never do forget the first time, do you??)

The Athlete

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Five hours of travel and waiting around for 18 minutes and 40 seconds of glory.  Worth every moment so I could watch my pale, wisp-of-a-kid run his first 2-mile cross country meet!

Run like the wind, Little Man!

Boy Caves – or Why I let my son’s room look like this (and other parenting rules I break).

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The Caboose's Boy Cave

There’s something I really hate about my kids.

They’re slobs.

But I’m OK with that.

Now.

I had this realization when I was trying to enter Slick’s room recently, but was stopped a few feet in the door by the arrangement of debris and furniture.  I made a comment about not being able to walk around all the stuff, expecting a guilt-ridden boy to hop up and clear a path for me.  Instead he replied, “I like it that way.”

It took me a minute to process what he said.  Then I looked around, and from where he was sitting, on his big, oversized chair next to his bed, everything was perfect.  His laptop was within reach, the table he does homework on was at his right hand, his gaming chair perfectly positioned in front of the tv with the Xbox nestled below.  Sure he had to navigate around things to get to his little cocoon, but once there, everything was at his fingertips.  I just had to look at it through his eyes to see it.

My next stop was The Caboose’s room.  I paused at the door, looking in.  I saw a cluttered, disheveled mess.  Crap all over the dressers, toys pushed to the perimeter of the room, clothes hanging on the closet doors.  Then I went in, and sat in the “clear” area where he sits when he plays.  Everything was within reach.  There were dirty clothes among the toys and shoes scattered about, but when I called him up to ask him if he liked it like that, he said that he did.

I’ve tried many times to clear some of the junk from their rooms.  We go through the clutter, item-by-item, and I ask if they’re ready to part with things.  The answer is always the same.  Those dust catchers are markers of their lives.  Souvenirs from vacations, sports memorabilia from favorite teams, art projects they made themselves.  Every piece is part of them, and they want them there.  The collection continues to grow.  The clutter stays.

They may go a few days without putting clothes in the hamper, but eventually it gets done.  The consequence is theirs when the shirt they want to wear isn’t clean.  And they always manage to find the shoes they need, and seem to know right where to look.  Perhaps there really is some organization amongst their chaos.  I just don’t understand the methodology.

As for the closet doors being open (a pet peeve of mine), I saw it as a sign of maturity.  There are no longer monsters in that closet, so there’s no need to close the doors to keep them in.

That particular day The Caboose’s covers and pillows were on the floor, a reminder that he has recently taken to sleeping beside his bed instead of on it.  At first it was just on weekends, like a one-man sleepover, but then he started sleeping on the floor every night.  He said he liked it.  I resisted at first, because you’re not “supposed” to do that.  But he was sleeping, which was the goal, so I allowed it.  He kisses me goodnight, and crawls into his little space without a peep.  Another parenting standard out the window.

This was an epiphany for me. 

Children have very little control over their world.  They spend most of their waking hours trying to accommodate the requests of parents and teachers, much of the time operating in a manner that’s not in their comfort zone.  We tell them when to go to bed, when to wake up, what to wear, where to go.  Teachers tell them where to sit, what page to turn to, when the can go to the bathroom.  I started feeling like the least I could do was to cut them a little slack about their room.

I needed to put into practice the best parenting advice there is:  Choose Your Battles.

It would be easy to fight constantly with your kids, because adults and kids have very different views of things.  But there are things that really matter, and things that really don’t.  And I’m going to start giving less importance to the things that don’t really matter, and saving my ammunition for the things that do.  The worst thing we parents can do is exert control over our kids just because we can.

So if you stop by, and my kids’ rooms are a mess, don’t expect an apology.  As long as they stay within the parameters we agree on (safe passage to and from the bed, closet, and door) I’m going to give them some latitude.  And let them have their Boy Caves the way they like them.

A Love Story

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Once upon a time, there was a plain, insecure, college girl.  One day, she met a guy she wasn’t really crazy about, but who seemed to like her a lot.

She agreed to go out with him, never expecting it to lead anywhere.  (She was a poor college student, and he wanted to take her to a restaurant, so it seemed like a good idea.)  She let him buy her pizza, and then he asked her out again.  Though still a little uncertain about this guy, she agreed a second time, because he wanted to cook for her.

Much to her surprise, the guy turned out to be really sweet.  They dated for a couple of years, and then the Really Nice Guy was ready to graduate from college and head off for his first assignment with the Army.  He knew the girl wasn’t going to wait around forever, so before leaving he asked her to marry him, and she said yes.

The plain, insecure girl blossomed into a beautiful woman, married the Really Nice Guy, and lived happily ever after.

26 years ago today.

Perfect House?? Puh-lease.

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The other day I was blog hopping and stumbled upon 31 Days to Clean: Having a Martha House the Mary Way.  Curious, I clicked a few links and found out the premise: Following a detailed plan to do some REALLY detailed cleaning in your house, a little every day.

I must admit, I felt a little enthusiastic at first.  I’m picturing my house at the end of the 31 days, gleaming all over, and no trace of cobwebs under the dining room table or pawprints on the living room windows.  I’m hosting a party in late October, and the “new and improved” version of my house would be a pleasure to show off in such a state.

I looked a little closer.  At first thought, this sounded like a really great idea.  I peeked at the calendar like it was the Holy Grail.

Day 3: Dust the top of the refrigerator, cabinets and shelves.  Clean and shine outside of cabinets.  OK, I can do that.

Day 9:  Sweep, vacuum, and mop kitchen floors.  Add some fresh flowers to brighten your day.  Sounds great.

Day 15: Wash bedroom mirrors, walls, and insides of windows.  Wash window treatments.  Dust ceilings.  Huh?  Dust ceilings??

Day 24:  Clean out desk.  Clean out and update files.  Organize office supplies and drawers.  Clean out files?  Can’t I just get another file cabinet??

But it all sounded reasonable, so I started thinking about when I could kick off my house cleaning binge effort.  It was about that time that I realized this plan was a couple-hour-a-day plan.  When was I supposed to do all the stuff I already do every day?  Between buying fresh flowers and dusting ceilings, when was I supposed to do laundry, clean toilets, make beds, cook meals, feed the dog, water the plants, and all the other stuff I try to get to every day but manage to fall short??  The last thing I need is another plan to make me feel even less adequate than I already do.

These steps amounted to about 2 hours a day.  Now, if I cleaned my house for 62 hours – with or without a plan – it would be spotless.  So this idea was a total scam.

As I pondered the mission over a glass of wine for a few minutes, I came up with an alternate plan:  31 Minutes to Clean:  How a Real Woman Gets It All Done.

Anthea Turner, Perfect Housewife.

Supplies needed:  a couple of garbage bags, scented all-purpose cleaner, toilet brush, vacuum cleaner, Swiffer cloths, cleaning wipes, and a scented candle.

Step 1 (5 minutes) – Collect garbage.  Nothing screams neglect like garbage cans that are spilling over.  Empty all the trash cans, and roam through the house checking for garbage.  Pay extra attention to the space behind teenagers’ beds.  This is where they like to hide the trash from the snacks they’re not supposed to be eating in their rooms.

While you’re at it, pick up all the dirty clothes they left on the floor and toss them in a hamper.

Step 2 (5-7 minutes, depending on how many bathrooms you have and the gender of your children) – Splash some scented cleaner in the toilets.  Swish it around and flush.  If you have male children, wipe the areas around the toilet, because they can’t aim.

Step 3 (6 minutes) – Pull the covers up on all beds.  You have about 2 minutes per room for this step, so make ‘em count.  Smooth the covers and place the pillows at the top of the bed.  If you have decorative pillows, toss them on, too.

Step 4 (3 minutes) – Pick up the clutter in the living and dining room.  Keep a few decorative baskets around so you can toss things in and make it look like it’s supposed to be there.  Grab a Swiffer and give the horizontal surfaces a quick wipe.

Step 5 (5 minutes) – Run the vacuum cleaner through the traffic paths.  Make sure you go in one direction so the carpet will stand up in a pattern, and visitors will know you vacuumed.

Step 6 (3 minutes) – Throw dirty dishes in the dishwasher.  Rinse the coffee pot.

Step 7 (3 minutes) – Wipe the counters with a scented wipe.  Don’t buy the cheap ones, they leave streaks and cause more work.  I like Mrs. Meyer’s Clean Day Wipes.  They’re pricey, but they smell good.  And a house that smells good must be clean, right??

Step 8 (5 minutes) – Run a vacuum over tile and wood floors.  Spritz tile with a little scented all-purpose cleaner to make it smell clean.

Step 9 (1 minute) – Light a scented candle.  (Using the same scent will help you pull off the illusion.)  A good scented candle can make up for a lot of neglect.

For those of you inclined to check my math, that’s about 36 minutes.  But you get my point.

Real women don’t have time to do dust ceilings or update files.  We’ve got kids to raise, parents to tend to, meals to cook, and some of us even have jobs.  And helping with homework.  Don’t get me started on the homework.

So take my advice.  Forget about having a perfect house while your kids are little. If there’s no dust under your refrigerator, then you probably missed out on something.

And know they love you.

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Letting Go. Artist: Sue Kafka-Ellis http://www.art-base.org

A self-proclaimed dispenser of wisdom, I recently shared a parenting thought with Louise over at I Choose Happy Now.  She wrote a post about sending her first-born off to Pre-K, and the tug on her heart as he reached this milestone.

I shared with her one of my favorite little pearls of parenting wisdom:  Roots and Wings.

The full quote, from Southern journalist and author Hodding Carter states “There are two lasting bequests we can give our children: One is roots, the other is wings.” 

The roots part is what we usually think of as parenting.  Teaching them right from wrong, good manners, faith.   Giving them roots brings us closer to our kids, because it’s a time when we’re instilling in them values we want them to have, molding them into the people we want them to become.

The wings part is much harder.

There are the small steps.  Sending him off to Pre-K, wondering if he’ll be able to open his Ziploc bag at snack time.  The first day of second grade, wondering who she’ll eat lunch with.  Or the rite of independence The Caboose experienced last night: wandering the stadium with his friends at a football game while we sat vigil over the popcorn.

Then there are the big leaps.  Going on her first date.  Getting his driver’s license.  Going away to college.

My friend Stacy was the first to chant the “Roots and Wings” mantra to me back when The Trailblazer was in high school.  With her first-born a year older than mine, she shared with me her anxiety as her daughter left for college.  Assuring her that her baby girl was ready for the real world made me realize that I had to accept the same.  (I mean, if you can’t take your own advice, you’ve got no business dispensing it, right?)

One of the hardest lessons of parenting is realizing that our REAL job is to prepare them for their time without us.  Whether that time is 9 to 2 at preschool, four years at college, or the independent adult life they will someday live without us.  We’ve got to teach them well, and then let them go.

It’s all about Roots and Wings.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ztVaqZajq-I

If you give a Mom a vacuum…

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{ Via: workitmom.com }

I really should vacuum.

But if I vacuum and don’t bathe the dog, the house will still smell like dirty dog. So if I vacuum, I have to bathe the dog.

If I bathe the dog, I’ll have to clean the bathroom.

If I clean the hall bathroom, I may as well clean all the bathrooms.

If I clean all the bathrooms and vacuum, I should probably mop the tile.

If I mop the kitchen, I should wipe down the cabinets.

If I’m getting the wood cleaner out, I should do the banister as well.

If the banister is clean, I should clean the paw marks off of the front door.

I think I’ll go shopping.

OK, so he had a growth spurt.

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I can’t always talk on the Internet about the stupid funny things Slick does, because occasionally he and The Trailblazer are so bored they read my blog.  (Usually during class…)  But today the lad threw me a bone.

The Mass of the Holy Spirit was today.  The students at Jesuit High School forgo their military-style khakis and wear a coat and tie on this day every year for the occasion.  Today Slick thought it would be funny to wear his old fish tie.

I love this kid!!

Going up to communion, last year’s history teacher caught a glimpse and started snickering.  This triggered a snickering contagion that passed through my son.   I’m completely stunned that he did not get Penance Hall for this.  And that lightning hasn’t yet struck him down for his irreverence.

And I’m glad I wasn’t there.  Because I would’ve peed in my pants laughing.

Nerd + Nerd = More Nerds

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What’s a Mom to do when she’s too lazy busy to write new material??  Why, trot out some old stuff, of course.  (Most of you probably weren’t around when this post first appeared, so that means it’s new to you, right??)

So, back because I don’t have anything new by popular demand:  Nerd + Nerd = More Nerds.

Hope you enjoy!

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{ Source: Sony Pictures Animation }

nerd   (noun \ˈnərd\):  an unstylish, unattractive, or socially inept person; especially : one slavishly devoted to intellectual or academic pursuits

(Yes, I looked it up.  It’s what I do.)

My Little Guy came home from school a few days ago in a bad mood.  He went up to his room to sulk for a little while, then appeared in the kitchen a few moments later, ready to talk about it.

Him:  I’m glad I’m not going back to that school next year.

Me:  (Concerned look.)  Why?

Him:  Because they have too many bullies.

Me:  (Seething.)  What happened?

Him:  The popular kids were calling me and my friends names.

Me:  (Seething more.) What did they call you?

Him:  Nerds.

Me:  (Sympathetic look.)  Aww.

You must understand, “aww” was the word that came out of my mouth, but my brain was saying “yessss!”  For I know the path of a nerd.  And it turned out just fine for me.

You see, I’m a nerd.  To be specific, I’m an English Nerd.  My husband is also a nerd.  He’s a Computer Nerd.  Turns out that when two nerds marry and have kids, guess what their offspring turn out to be.  You got it…more nerds.

Now I use the term with great affection.  Many of my closest friends are nerds.  (Go figure.)  But coming to terms with being a nerd is a long process.  And my Little Guy just isn’t there yet.  It’s my job to get him there.

When my kids read this (…who am I kidding, they don’t read my blog…) they’re not going to be happy.  Having one’s mom tell the world you’re a nerd can’t be good for adolescent self-esteem, but deep down I think the two older kids already know.

As for the Little Guy, I’ll tell him over and over that he shouldn’t listen to what other people say.  I’ll reinforce the philosophy that “it’s what’s inside that matters.”  I’ll remind him that he has many friends who like him just the way he is.  But he’ll still want to be more like the  popular kids.  And he’ll want to be one of them.  It’s part of growing up.

This week is my College Boy’s Spring Break.  (Some of my friends have been expressing woe over their kids going to the beach for Spring Break.  I can’t even imagine that level of worry.)  When he said he planned to stay home, I was quite relieved.  Then a magical thing happened:  his girlfriend came to our house, and tucked under her arm was a physics book.  I almost cried.  They spent the afternoon at the dining room table with laptops and physics books. He has (at least on a sub-conscious level) realized he’s a nerd, embraced it, and is seeking out others like him.  The circle of life is complete for that one.

The wild-card among my children appears to be the Middle Child.  He has cool hair, a quick wit, and a free spirit.  He plays two team sports.  This apple may roll a little farther from the tree than the others.  (He’ll probably be a Democrat.)  But he did set his alarm for 3:30 A.M. a few days ago to wake up and study for a Latin test, so he’s clearly showing nerdy tendencies.

Raising a house full of nerds has made me happier and prouder than I ever could have imagined.  I’ve realized that the world has enough Alpha Males.  It needs more Nerds.  It needs more people who value intelligence over attention and substance over style.  I’m happily doing my part for the greater good!

So, to all the popular girls who called me names in high school, thank you.  (I’m sure some of you turned out nicely, too.)

Leaving the Storm Behind

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With the sixth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina approaching, I’ve made a decision.  This will be the last year I mark this anniversary.  I’m willing to tell the story one last time, as a final catharsis to anyone who still wants to hear it.  Then I’m going to declare it in the past.

The first responder marking says: 1 Dead in Attic. Photo credit: Eliot Kamenitz/The Times-Picayune

The first responder marking says: 1 Dead in Attic. Photo credit: Eliot Kamenitz/The Times-Picayune

Katrina is still in our daily vocabulary.  We use her as a reference in time.  We refer to her as an experience that reshaped our lives and our communities.  We blame her for our losses.  We thank her for our renewal.

Putting it in the past is going to be a hard thing to do, for every day I drive past vacant lots where families once lived, and empty houses with broken windows and spray-painted first-responder code still on the front.  But I also drive past gleaming new schools, manicured parks, and thriving communities.  Those who haven’t moved forward with rebuilding have obviously made their decision.

This memorial is across the street from the Convention Center. The inscription to the right reads: Honoring the people and remembering the events that occurred August 29, 2005 Hurricane Katrina. Photo credit: community.devexpress.com

I’m going to be part of the “new” New Orleans.

I’m going to reflect one last time on this event that changed my life.  I’m going to recall a few details, commit the lessons to my memory, and thank those you saved me when I most needed saving.

One last time.