It’s not whether you win or lose…well, actually it is!

My youngest daughter inherited my thick hair gene, which is both good and bad. It is so thick, laden with knots most days and when we were in the South, the child had dreadlocks. She’s quite fastidious about her hair. We go through conditioner like wine in this house and unfortunately some days there’s just not enough of either. So, I offer to help her brush her hair. Again. And again. And again. This is an almost daily FUN event that usually ends up with her in tears and me putting another dollar in the curse jar. She metamorphosizes into a growling wildcat.  This last time was enough. “I’m cutting your hair. Like it or not.” My little angel looked at me with those piercing blue eyes and that mass of entangled blonde hair. She then contorted her mouth. Then….did The Headroll.  “Well YOU don’t brush YOUR hair.” (Clearly she’s been sneaking in episodes of Honey Boo Boo again). She has a point.

“True. But I CREATED you. When YOU get to be a mommy, YOU can decide whether you want to brush your hair.  For now, you’re eight. Scissors or brush?”

Mommy         1

Little Angel    0

This is why we pick our battles: so that we’ll win. We have to assert our power in the right places so it looks like we know what we’re doing; that we planned this whole parent thing precisely and are ready for anything. (As Long as WE’VE HAD SOME SLEEP). They’re quite savvy with their premeditated bag of parental tricks. They gather them in the womb and hone them to precision the older and taller they get. Their timing is impeccable. Sometimes, no amount of books, Internet mommies, or conversations over Venti non-fat lattes can prepare us for some of the doozies that come our way.

40 yrsWe, as parents, share that secret handshake, and that tired, proud, confused, “I get it ’cause I’ve been there” look. We catch each other’s eyes in the grocery store when our children are like goats pulling items off the shelves or in a quiet restaurant when they choose to pull each other’s hair out over their toes accidentally touching under the table. Or, “that look” from friends who have teenagers that says simply “just you wait. It’s going to be rough.” Armed with our Google degree on Proud Parenting 101, age, and experience of, well, having been a child, we’re still all on a wing and a Hail Mary!

We want our offspring to be clean and neat, eat healthy, go to bed at a normal time, do their normalhomework, clean up, brush their teeth so they don’t rot out, love their friends, love each other, be respectful to everybody, be honest, be safe, work hard, and most of all love us! As romantic as this Hallmark moment is, it’s not reality. Knock just a couple off the list and feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. We have to cut ourselves some slack and do our Girl Scout best to have a sense of humor. (And keep them away from Honey Boo Boo). The good always outweighs the bad. Just the other night I went to Back to School night and I read a story in my eight year old’s class about who her hero was. It was me.

Little Angel  1

Mommy     🙂

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I’ll leave you with a few morsels of insight.

*Love them.

*Laugh with them.

*As mad as you get, there’s a good chance they’re copying you.

*Get a curse jar not so much to remind you of your poor (but effective) word choice but to get a jump on your child’s college fund.

*May be cliche, but this too shall pass

*Last, it’s a good thing they’re cute.

So, light a candle and take a deep breath. Enjoy this rich full bodied Cabernet once your precious angels have gone to bed. We’re all clicking our glasses in unison.

2008 Franciscan Cabernet

2008 Franciscan Cabernet

2008 Franciscan Cabernet

Rich aromas of cherry, black currants, and toasted oak

with generous flavors of cherry, plum, cocoa and a touch of vanilla

$27

One kid’s a hobby. Two’s the real deal.”  My friend’s husband

Why an Eight Year Old Needs a Cell Phone

When my 8 year old asked me when she could get a cell phone and I was about to say “two weeks from your sixteenth birthday”, I stared at her.  The eagerness in her big blue eyes to be in touch with all the other eight year olds and their social agendas was cute and pathetic.  She’s convinced she NEEDS it.  And my 10 year old has made me feel its just pure neglect that she doesn’t possess an iPhone, only a measly iTouch that she “doesn’t even like”.  I’m such a mean mommy. I’m fairly certain it qualifies as child abuse in the state of California. “But EVERYONE else has one!”  “But punkin’, they are going to be socially stunted as adults.”  “Whaaaaaaa?” I wanted to tell her to Google it, but I stopped myself.

Remember when a keyboard was only on a piano and a virus was the flu?  Only spiders lived in a web? Yes, it is hard to comprehend our lives before we had cell phones and the Internet.  Our Universe shrunk down to the size of a pea and answers to everything were two clicks away.  Our friends could be phoned almost anywhere (for 40 cents per minute) at any time and it was AWESOME! The new technology was exhilarating!  I remember my dad carrying around a cell phone the size of a briefcase, He loaded it in his car to with the same finesse that we load a carryon on a plane, except his bag phone was probably bigger. People would stop and stare.

Our lives before this social media onslaught seem to be pre Civil War (ie Gold Rush or insert event from the 1800s).  We thumbed through the Encyclopedia Britannica and marveled over its slick glossy pages and colorful photos. The library was our only source for term papers.  We utilized mountains of books.  For hours.  I had a row of dictionaries in my room in high school that graduated in line due to their thickness. My big blue one I ultimately filled with my friends’ high school photos and two ‘mums’ from a couple of promsJ (I found it a few years ago when cleaning out a bunch of old boxes. It was bent from the memories and a big ol’ rubber band held it all in place.).  We had a rotary phone mounted to the wall in the kitchen.

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An Apple a day…..

Recently, when I had my third iPhone replaced (sigh), there were a mere couple of hours that I wasn’t ‘connected’ with the world.  You heard right.  Hours. Diagnostics were done.  The Apple Doctors were baffled. Replace the organ! (I mean phone).  Transfer everything AGAIN?!   I admit, I panicked.  My umbilical cord was severed. Waiting a nanosecond for a text response has on occasion put me near Stress Con 5.  I looked at The Genius Bar in Apple and imagined that it served martinis.  Apple martinis! A mirage.

Remember when we used to pass notes in class and it worked! My girlfriend got asked to the prom via a neatly folded note in the middle of Advanced Biology during a lecture on porifera reproduction (you may need to Google that). It was the preferred, well only, method of immediately sending and receiving information on fashion, dates, weekend plans, MTV, feathered bangs, and football games, and “like, how boring this stupid class is and like will this teacher ever like shut up!” But you had to make sure that you had allies beside you, otherwise the covert operation would be thwarted (ie. the future hackers). There was always somebody in the group waiting to grab your notes.  And if you got busted or it got in the wrong hands, the best-case scenario was the note got ripped up and valuable information ‘deleted’. The worst was the teacher read it to the whole class and your crush was revealed and his girlfriend happened to be sitting beside you. And there’s still 45 minutes left.

Google has done for our brains what karaoke has done for our voices.  We are all fucking geniuses holding mini PhDs in everything and we are all one beer away from being ‘discovered’.  If it all boosts our self-esteem in this sea of crazy uncertainty that we all live in, then why not?  Google away! As far as Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, and all the others go?  Stick needles in my eyes. Facebook has exhausted me but I caved in. Though, the conversations, the photos, the comments, thumbs up and thumbs down, it’s a lot to keep up and raise kids too. I have to put my virtual foot down and say “No more social media!” (at least for another week or so…….)

So, when I hear, “Mommy, you don’t understand!”  I actually really truly do.  But the answer is still “No.”

Tammy

“When I delete someone from the contacts in my phone, it feels like I’m deleting that person from existence. “
” I answer unknown calls on my cell phone because I’m a fearless person. “