Send your spare Xanax and Grey Goose

The Diva is a teenager today.

Equestrian.  Reader.  Sassy.  Super intelligent.  Girly.  Princess.  Giggly.  Loyal.  Teenager.  Planner.  Sweet.  Trendy.  Inquisitve.  Scientist. 

Happy Birthday, Diva!  I love you lots!

Mother Nature is providential.  She gives us twelve years to develop a love for our children before turning them into teenagers.  ~William Galvin

What matters is that you had fun, right?

The Diva was in a horse show today.  Two levels – dressage and jumping.  She, unfortunately, didn’t do very well in either of them.  She actually got eliminated because her horse refused three times on a jump.  This is the first time she hasn’t placed in a competition, and she was VERY upset.

She said she was mostly embarrassed.  She finished the course even though she was eliminated, and for that, I am very proud of her.

You'd like me to jump over WHAT?

Um, no thanks. Can we just go around?

Fine. If I go over it will you feed me and put my blanket back on me?

This is what I think of it all.

 

Be wary of the horse with a sense of humour.
    – Pam Brown

And so it begins

The Diva got her  birthday presents from grandma yesterday.  So far this is what I’ve heard this morning:

Blah, blah, blah, Edward.  Blah, blah, Bella.  Blah, blah, blah, Edward and Bella.  I would fill in all the other words but there is just not enough space here.  She is completely obsessed already.

Oh.my.god.

I may have created a monster.

Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain. ~ Bella

I’m so not cool post #26

I have not read Twilight.  Yeah, I KNOW I’m the only person in the free world who has not.  Thank you for reminding me.

My daughter has shown interest in it.  I read the summary on Amazon.  I decided in complete prudish fashion that she wasn’t quite old enough yet.

My soon-to-be-thirteen-year-old-daughter is now getting the book for her birthday.  From Grandma.  On my suggestion.  There is a waiting list to borrow the book from her Language Arts teacher – and I guess I decided if all the other thirteen year old girls were reading it (from their classroom library no less!), so could the Diva.  I totally caved.

But the best part?  She won’t KNOW I caved.  She will never know that I TOLD Grandma to get her that book.  And?  I’ll get to read it, too.

Win, win.

I would be most content if my children grew up to be the kind of people who think decorating consists mostly of building enough bookshelves.  ~Anna Quindlen, “Enough Bookshelves,” New York Times, 7 August 1991

Dumbing down

Is it normal for a mother to encourage her child to NOT worry about school and grades?  Because my child?  Is going to give herself an ulcer worrying about her grades.  My straight A+ child. 

I’ve already had to limit her access on the computer for the purpose of checking her grades.  She’s found a way around that since the students all received their laptops a couple of weeks ago – she just uses that and checks at school or when I’m not paying attention to what she’s doing.  She will check her grades multiple times daily, if allowed, just to make sure nothing has dropped.

Last week she called to ask if she could stay after school for “math help”.  I was on the other phone with P-Man and he heard my end of the conversation.  When I got back on the line with him our conversation went something like this:

Him:  The Diva is staying after school?

Me:  Yes

Him:  For math help?

Me:  Yes

Him:  Isn’t she getting an A+ in that class?

Me:  Yes

Turns out she stayed not because she needed help, but because anyone who stayed got to start their quiz early AND got three extra points added to their grade.  I asked her just how much higher she could go than where she already is and she just gave me her “Mom, you’re so dumb” shrug.  Want to know what she got on her quiz?  You know you do.  She got 107.  She aced the quiz, answered a bonus question correctly, and the three extra points.

Last night she attended a sleepover party.  A little before 9:00 PM she texted me to ask me if her laptop was charging.  I texted back “Don’t worry about it you are at a party.  Have fun!”  Her response was “Ok, but could you plug it in please?”

Don’t get me wrong, I am super proud of her.  Clearly, she did not get her genius IQ from me.  I can still help her with homework, so that must be saying something about my intelligence level.  (No, seriously, I know a lot of parents who CAN’T help their 7th graders with homework.  It’s beyond them.)  Yet the fact that she is so overly worried about her grades, in turn worries me greatly.  That’s a lot of stress and pressure for twelve years old.  I can’t even imagine what her book bag weighs every day, because she brings home every. single. book. she. has.  Just in case.  I’ve asked her to stop carrying everything home, to bring home just what she needs – if nothing else, for the sake of her back.  She agreed, but I still see her heft her bag onto her back every morning and I KNOW she has extra books in there.

So is it wrong?  Is it wrong for me to try to get her to chill out just a little?  Anyone who has read this knows I didn’t apply myself in school.  I could have done really well for myself back then had I put forth a little more effort.  I don’t want her to take the same route I did, especially since I know she has much more potential than I ever did…but I also don’t want her so stressed out that she has a meltdown in high school – or before.

Encouraging without pushing, suggesting without nagging.  It’s a fine line and I’m not doing a very good job of knowing which side I’m on.

If the human brain were so simple that we could understand it, we would be so simple that we couldn’t.  ~Emerson M. Pugh

My inner snob

The Diva’s school pictures are tomorrow.  She has been putting outfits together, deciding what she will wear, and picking the pose she wants.

The Captain, caught up in the madness, asked when HIS school pictures are.  I told him and then said “I’d like you to wear the black shirt with the pony on it.”  I walked into the other room to see the Postman smirking and shaking his head.

Him:  He’s not a Polo kind of kid, Buffy.

Me:  Yeah, but it’s black and he’ll probably be sporting a mohawk.  It’s called compromise.

In my defense, he picked out the shirt himself the day we went school shopping, and I don’t even think he knows who Ralph Lauren is.

But it still made me a little happy.  Is that wrong?

What a strange power there is in clothing.  ~Isaac Bashevis Singer

And we’re off!

Another school year begins:

Middle school might be the death of me.  I had some pretty big milestones in 7th grade.  For example, I had my first kiss.  His name was Corey, and we were at a birthday party for my friend Amy.  The kiss took place in her laundry room, and it may have been part of Truth or Dare.  The details are fuzzy.  We also went to the fancy pants end-of-year dance about a month later.  We were “going out”.

My daughter will not be “going out”, kissing, or dancing.  Period. 

Next up:

Fourth grade.  My wee baby boy is almost a grown man, for the love of god!

I am seriously getting old and I don’t even realize it as it’s happening.  I used to have a three year old and a newborn, like, last week.  Honestly. 

Now is a good time for a glasss of wine.  I’ll be the one crying over mine.

Making the decision to have a child is momentous.  It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.  ~Elizabeth Stone

Carnies and Disney

The fair is in town.  Do you know how much I HATE the fair?  No?  I would rather have my eyes gouged out with a hot poker than attend then fair.  The kids LOVE the fair.  So I, as their mother, dutifully haul my ass down to the fairgrounds with them.

As we are walking in, they are pointing skyward at all the thrill rides they are going to go on.

Me:  No.

Them:  WHY NOT, MOM?

Me:  Have you SEEN the people who erect these rides?

I used to love fairs, amusement parks, and thrill rides.  Then I became a mother and started paying attention to my surroundings so I could protect my young.  And I realized all the dangers that come with those activities.  From the attendants on the kiddie rides with the cigarettes dangling from their lips as they offer to strap my child in (“Touch my child, dude, and I WILL cut you.”), to the young attendants running the thrill rides.  I use the term “running” loosely as they are too busy checking out the girls walking around with short shorts and tank tops.

This is what our day looked like:

Sure, you can go on this ride

Over my dead freakin body

My kids love when I get all anxiety ridden.

I leave you with this:

I’ve seen this transfer on at least two vehicles around town.  Do you think Tink looks just a wee bit like a porn star here?  No?  It’s just me?  Ok then.

Tinkerbell: Every time someone says ‘I do not believe in fairies’, somewhere there’s a fairy that falls down dead. (Hook)

Bad mood

Dear Jackass,

The handicapped spaces at the post office are for HANDICAPPED drivers, or people who are driving handicapped persons.  Their cars are registered with plates or hangtags making it clear who needs those spaces.  Parking in one and staying in the car while your wife walks in to the post office is NOT OK.

If a driver needs that space while you are sitting there in your airconditioned glory listening to NPR, what are they to do?  They can’t exactly get out and ask you to move, now can they?  I know you saw me stop, look at your plate and then look through your windshield to see if I spotted a hangtag – which you know I did not.   Next time I will walk up to the window and knock and tell you it might be nice of you to leave those spots for people who need them, because you know what?  It’s just not right.  And you know it.  I know you realize this because you hung your head when you saw me looking at your car.

Sincerely,

The person you pissed off today.

*******************************************************************************************************************

Dear Captain and Diva,

I am really glad I’m going to be seeing you today, but I am dreading it also.  I have to tell you something and I know it is going to make you very, very sad.  I will try to hold it together when I tell you – I have cried every day since last Thursday and now I will let you be in your grief while I try to comfort you. 

I love you both very much,

Mom

*******************************************************************************************************************

Dear Postman,

I know you have been very sad yourself, but you turn away or choke it down before I see too much.  No sense both of us being hysterical, right?

Nonetheless, you are a gigantic puss for bailing on me.  Staying home while I pick up the kids is a chickenshit move and you know it.  I’m not telling them in the car.  Going 65 down the highway is not going to be condusive to comforting them in the backseat, now is it?  So I will tell them when we get home before we come in the house and you will probably have to deal with us anyway.

So there, jackass.

I love you more (even though you are not as tough as you’d like everyone to believe),

Me

Do not teach your children never to be angry; teach them how to be angry.  ~Lyman Abbott

Saving money….or not

This week was bloggy carnival giveaway.  While I visited different sites entering giveaways, I also stopped to read quite a few of them.  Which is why my house currently looks like a tornado blew through it, but I digress.

So many women are super frugal, money saving, super shoppers.  Oh, how I WANT to be one of those money saving super shoppers.  I read tips, I visited coupon sites.  This morning I sat down and looked at area flyers online, because yesterday I received the list of supplies my daughter will need for school this year.  A great place to start, I thought!  Except now?  I’m just irritated.  Because different things are on sale at different places…for *slightly* different amounts.

Let’s recall – I live in Podunk, Maine.  There is a WalHell* in town, along with a Rite Aid.  And while there is a super shopping area about 40 minutes away (where my beloved Tarjhay is located), with gas as it is…there is no sense spending that much on gas when I can get similar deals close by.

There is also no guarantee that I will be able to find what I need at any given store.  One store has office supplies listed as “Buy one get one free”…and there is a picture of various office supplies including a ruler – which is on the list of needed supplies.  But the other “office supply” on the list is a clear protrator.  Which is not pictured.  So I could make the trek down there, and end up buying just a stupid ruler.  At regular price because they don’t have protractors.  Clear, at that.

As usual, as much as I dislike WallHell, it is a 5 minute drive and I know they have almost everything I will need for her.  So I’ll probably end up there, cursing every second that I have to spend in that store.

Maybe I just don’t have the patience needed to be frugal?

*stolen borrowed from Morgan

I cannot afford to waste my time making money.  ~Louis Agassiz