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Objective
Charity Begins at Home
Example
Once again I have an itinerary in my head, so I round up the tribe and march them through the obligatory fun stops. I am not completely reverting to Momhood though, because the scheduling revolves around the promise of free food and drinks in the hotel restaurant...a marketing ploy that I am 100% for.
We blow some quarters in the advertised "game room",(A claw machine and a racing video crammed next to the wash machines in the laundry) and then jump in the pool for 42 minutes of swimming before our appointment with h'orderves. Baby Oliver floats around enamored by this larger bathtub, his Sponge Bob trunks billowing around him. (He selects his clothing based on the size of the cartoon eyeballs printed on them.)
We play Octopus..a family favorite that can be adapted to pools, trampolines, and darkened bedrooms, where I make a sound something like blablbalblablbuloblo and wave my arms around trying to catch them when they come near me. The teenagers play Marco Polo until they realize they must be stupid and they began to float coolly around.
Times up we're out ! We go after lots of threats and sneaky returns to the water. I am morphing back into a mother, I can feel the pull of the moon. The hair is retracting, my face reverting to a pinched and harried expression, my voice raising several octaves.
We march through the shower and come out dressed for the evening. Downstairs we snarf mini hot dogs and nachos and watch the college kids do a mating dance to kill time before the Cardinals game.
We find an electronic hockey game which stays on until you make a goal, so the middle kids are at it for a good forty five minutes and I am able to sip a weak but blessedly free cocktail.
Now it feels like a vacation.
We head out into downtown looking for adventure.
I love St Louis. It's one of my favorite cities on earth. Just grimy enough to indicate it's advanced age but not as sooty and dank as London or New York. It's friendlier, but just enough so that you feel tolerated as opposed to threatened. It's full of hardworking long term citizens and lacks the frippery and oddness of a Western city but still offers the amenities.
And for some reason St Louis loves children. It is not catering to them in a capitalist sort of way..it is inviting them, wrapping it's arms around them. St Louis offers the end of the jump rope to a parent and invites the kids to play.
There are almost no safety rails or warning signs, unlike California, and so a parent has to be just that...a parent...but it's a place to Let Go and Play, to sip a latte while your child teeters high above the earth in a school bus plunked on a roof, or strolls the river banks, or runs through a fountain, or climbs a giant turtle.
And like any city it has vagrants.
The first one finds us on Laclede's landing, tracks us down the street, offer us his sob story, and asks for money for food.
I am blinking in astonishment.
I am standing here alone with fifteen million kids and no wedding ring and this guy wants my money.
He is not an observant sales man.
I tell him my sob story and he is unmoved, he just wants cash.
Fallon's best friend is persuaded in the way of teenagers and gives him two bucks. I feel only a bit guilty...I wish I had a peanut butter sandwich to give him, that way if he really is hungry he can eat. But I march away, worried that I am giving the children the wrong message.
I try to explain that he is a young healthy man, that he has no business pestering a mother and children for money. That he could work more easily than I...that we only have about forty bucks for this trip that blahblahblah.
I wonder what a dad would have done. Would he have given the guy a buck? Told him to go jump in a lake? Would that man even have asked a dad for money?
We go looking for gelato and as we spend fifteen dollars for five scoops of ice cream I question my motives again. I am still worried about the man at the landing and feeling guilty for eating posh dessert. My children are selfish, it is the nature of children. They happily eat and ask for more. They do not care that someone else is hungry anywhere.
I reassure myself that I give to charity and volunteer often where I know there is really a need. I am still arguing with myself when we walk back to the car in a dark side street and a man barrels out from the bus stop waving his arms and shouts "What's happenin'?!"
The teens squeak an answer and jump into the car.
He's still coming shouting "What's happenin?!"
I stuff the little kids into the van and start buckling them in like an idiot, trying to stay calm and plot a course to the driver's side.
He's still saying it "What's happenin'? What's happenin?" His arms waving wildly in the dark.
I want inexplicably to yell "What's happenin'" back at him and make the octopus noise blaoblaboblboublbllo.
Inside the safety of my car I am begining to get angry. I am not going to stand for this. He is still yelling, out of his mind with "what's happenin's"
"I'll tell you what's happenin'!" I shout unheard by anyone but the children. "I am going to mess you up! I am a bad ass mother!" I shout "And I am going to eff you up with my flip flop...don't you doubt it... I will beat your ass with my flip flop..I will mess you up!"
And that's when we come around the corner into the light and see that he is crippled, held in place by bad legs and a crutch, his voice the only thing he can send our way. The teens are in hysterics laughing and the children are bewildered...and I am abashed and confused.
I have yelled at a crazy cripple.
That is the extent of my bravery. I have denied one man a dollar and taken out my wild oats on a cripple.
My suggestion is that you fork over a dollar or two. It is much less than you will exact from your own conscience if you don't.
Homework
Really explain things to your children. Help them understand what charity really is, and where it is best applied.
Extra Credit
Put your money where your mouth is. Don't yell at cripples.
Objective
Get Out of Dodge
Example
It's desperate to use a doctors visit as an excuse for a vacation you can't afford.
It's probably almost sick...like a Munchhausen vacation. But beggars can't be choosers. Isabel has had some mystery ailment for almost a year now, one that has left our local doctors puzzled and has finally resulted in our being sent to the great mecca of Saint Louis for a specialist. I was both relieved and frustrated to be taking this step. Relieved because I just want Isabel to get better, frustrated because we couldn't afford it.
Thank God for Priceline...it's like legalized gambling with a guaranteed prize. Usually I just put in some ridiculously low figure and end up overpaying for a 2 1/2 star hotel...and this time was no different. But still I feel vindicated getting a mediocre hotel room at a discount.
Now the only hurdle I had to jump was how to integrate a Momdad weekend into a vacation. There is nothing that brings out the harried, short tempered, over scheduling, money pinching, fun-killing mother in me like a car trip far away with four children. I become Kate Gosselin on a bad day. But this time I was determined to do it...to Let Go while going to the doctors, sitting for hours in a small space together, finding our hotel using only one way streets headed in the opposite direction, and walking around the city, all without the help of mind altering substances.
It only took me eight hours to pack enough food, changes of clothing, and car games to make the overnight trip and we were on our way, picking up Fallon's best friend for added value. Miraculously the baby slept, the kids were interested in the scenery, the teenagers agreed to let me listen to REM and the Chili Peppers, we didn't run out of food the first hour,...and...now this is really beyond belief... and you will probably never listen to another word I say...but nobody had to stop to pee.
So we actually made it to the doctors on time. The appointment took all of 45 minutes where the doctor, no doubt an expert even though he looked to be about 100 and didn't understand a word I said, assured me that Isabel was just reacting to stress and that we should try to have more fun.
Are you freaking kidding me?!
"We are a pretty upbeat fun little family" I told him.
I must have spoken to his deaf ear. "I'm sure you can work something out" he told me. Nowhere in there was a suggestion as to how we might relieve her stress, just the implication that I was nurturing a little bundle of nerves and probably making it worse. But I didn't act like a mom...oh no...I just let it all roll off...I didn't defend myself or yell "WTF?". I just nodded and kept my opinions to myself and walked out of there more determined than ever to have fun (As it turns out one of her tests came back positive for Celiac's disease so Stress that MoFo.)
Outside in the sun...a vactioney sort of sun...a city sun..a we're not in Kansas anymore sort of sun, I really was able to let it go. Something about being out of your own environment, free from the familiar rules and rituals, allows for an experience that is somewhat surreal. It seemed like instead of being as difficult as coming out of rehab and trying not to drink in all the old familiar places, it was going to be easier to Momdad here away from home.
I fastened my tribe back into the minivan, cranked up the music, and slid over to our hotel smooth as cream, ready to dump all our emergency food on the floor of the room and hit the pool.
Homework
Get away, get far away from all those routines that keep you from experiencing your day. Step out of your circle and Let Go.
Extra Credit
Accept that everything will be alright one way or another. Remember that it always is.
5 things
to do with your kids that are always less than twenty dollars or free.
1.Go on vacation in your own back yard
Take a nature hike (depending on your yard you probably won't even need to bring extra water.) Pitch a tent or spread a blanket and watch the night sky come. Camp out right there on your own turf.
2. See the world from a child's eye view
Experience the down low. Walk on your knees or get down on all fours. If you have a baby, lay on the ground and experience things from an ankle biters perspective. Little kids love this and you really will develop an appreciation for what it's like to navigate and observe their world.
3. Google Earth
Zoom from space to sea level. This is just one of the coolest things ever. Elementary kids spend hours on this touring the world. We like to look for penguins in the Antarctic and find Disney World. And it's the easiest way to find yourself.
4. Art for arts sake
Picasso said that every child is an artist. Most cities have art museums with free admission. If you've never been, check it out. Not every painting is a stuffy old picture of some dude in a wig. If you can't get out to one try the internet. Check out The Smithsonian's Night at the Museum treasure hunt.
and the Metropolitans Museum Kids site.
5. Park it
We love parks and playgrounds, from the elementary school playground to the city park. These are the perfect places to be a Momdad and find the kid in you. Make sure you go down the slide and climb over and under everything. Even teens love playgrounds and they might just jump at the chance to go with you. (Even though they will pretend you are lame for asking)
Here's Tuesday's Tip for those seeking enlightenment and knowledge in their role as Weekend Dad.
How to Win at Arm Wrestling
My son has noodley little arms, even for a five year old, but despite this he loves feats of strength. We used to fall back on thumb wrestling since our thumbs are the most evenly matched parts of our bodies, but now we've graduated to arm wrestling because we've learned a trick, Even a little guy can beat a big guy at arm wrestling with this secret under his belt.
The trick is to use your wrist instead of your arm.
-Every wrestling match starts with your friend yelling "ready-set-go!". The second your kid hears the T in "set" have him quickly curl his own wrist pointing his knuckles back toward his own body. To get the most leverage he should keep his arm as close to his body as possible.
As he curls his own wrist toward himself he's also cocking the other guys wrist backwards. By bending his opponent's arm at the wrist, he's destroying the other guys ability to use his entire hand and arm for leverage. Before his opponent has time to think twice, Wham! Bam! Your kid has won!
If your kid wants to buff up before the big event he can squeeze silly putty or one of the hand muscle strengthening balls sold in any sporting goods store.
As physical challenges go, arm wrestling is one of the least aggressive. Yet it keeps the cowardly aggressors away. A kid with arm-wrestling prowess who feels and acts physically confident will be less likely to be bullied.
*excerpted from 101 Secrets a Cool Mom Knows by Sue Ellin and Walter Browder
What did I learn this weekend? Oh man. (pun intended)
This has been a strange four years for me. I moved out to a farm after thirty two years of a kushie west coast existence. I don't mean we were ever rich...just that we had it easy. Everything was new, there were no tornadoes, heat was something that came on if you flipped a switch, ice was something we put in our diet sodas, water came from pipes, and bugs were convinced that Avon skin so soft was to be avoided.
Renovating my house with a baby or two strapped to my back while I hauled firewood, wielded a crow bar, carried out hot water to a cow during ice storms, or used a blow torch to take up old asphalt tiles, has turned me into a different sort of woman. Sort of like Lara Croft with mom boobs.
I have experienced divorce, the death of my fiance several months before our wedding, the loss of my father, and the birth of a new unexpected baby that I would have to raise alone with three other children. I have faced these things with an equanimity I think I must have inherited from my ancestors. I am the end result of those wild roaming Scots, those Machiavellian Frenchmen, those maudlin epic Irish immigrants, the shrewd and sometimes cold Germans. I have endured, I am still standing, I am actually still smiling.
But I am realizing some mistakes. I used to think I didn't like men, and then suddenly my survival was dependent on them, and then I needed them to teach me anything I could so I could take over my own life. And then suddenly I was left without any men around me, to protect me, to irritate me with their misunderstood traits, to say...fix the pipes in the well house.
I remember being so frustrated that my father could spend all day on a project looking for parts, fitting it together, while I whipped around the house doing my thing like a hummingbird. Then I spent the day in the well house just like he used to, trying to make something work without the right parts or the exact knowledge. And of course I didn't manage to do it. Somehow the men in my life always seemed to be able to repair something with chewing gum, a bit of tinkering, and the elusive man knowledge that I, quite frankly, do not have, and probably never will.
Now, I'm no doubt going to irritate the feminists out there, and maybe some SAHDs, but the truth is I think we really are better suited to our own roles almost all the time. Sure we can be taught to do things, but some sort of innate ability, a fairy kiss from the cradle, gives one gender an advantage over the other in certain areas. And here's another thing. It's hard work being a man. Little did I know how difficult it can be to play with your kids while setting an example and holding down a d job and and holding out the fort. I'm going to go out on a limb here and actually say this... I think it is just as hard to be a dad as it is to be a mom. That is, it's hard to be a good parent if you are doing it right.
So now, I am humbled, and newly appreciative of all the boys I've loved before. And I am looking at my sons with new eyes, admiring their proclivities. Baby Oliver's eyes actually light up when he sees a car or construction vehicle. Liam wants to take everything apart and figure out how it works. It's amazing really how they came on the scene already prepared for what they will most likely have to do. And I am comforted too. It won't be long before I'll be able to pass the torch and go back to being a lady while someone else fixes the pipes.
And I will always, always say thank you...and really mean it.
Objective
Attain Manhood
Example
This Sunday I set out to do Man Things...
I was attempting to fill the void my father had left behind, as well as get around to the things he would normally have been doing for me. After he passed away suddenly this winter the children and I decamped from our old house, an eternal renovation project, and moved into my mother's. This alone has led to many hilarious and frustrating developments which are a story for another time.
So my house has sat unused (disused) and has begun to show extreme signs of abandonment. I decided the best remedy for that and for a long Sunday stretching out into wherever, was that I wear the pants in the family and gather up the kids for a day of Man Chores.
We started out the morning on the porch with hot chocolate and a pair of binoculars prepared to watch the local wildlife wake up. As it turns out we were the local wildlife...so wild that we scared anything feathered or four footed away. So mostly we just slurped marshmallows and watched the leaves on trees close up. After fortifying ourselves with manly fried eggs and sausage we sauntered over to the homestead with a List.
Now I understand why men don't make lists...they are set ups for failure.
My Man Chores List
- Mow the lawn
- Fix well house pipes
- Take trampoline apart
- Clean and move motor home to barn
- Get old Explorer running and move to barn
- Burn old lumber and tree limbs
- Remove hanging limbs from storm and two trees that fell down
- Wash minivan
Okay, I knew it was a lot, even for someone that knew what they were doing, but the sun was shining and I had high hopes.
I also had high grass. About four feet high actually. So while the baby was napping I hauled out the old push mower and cranked it up. (pulled the little starter cord four hundred time while yelling "crap!" a lot and pleading)
Because of the jungle-like thickness and height of the grass I had to tilt the mower at an extreme angle to keep it form clogging up...so pretty much I crawled around on my knees mowing. I managed to cut a few game trails for us where we needed to go and gave up on the rest.
Next the well house. During a hard freeze in December one of the pipes had burst and flooded the yard. I wasn't about to fix it in the snow and ice when I could hide at my mother's until the sun came out again. So here I was. I began by removing the broken part of the pvc which miraculously pulled out of just the right spot. No problem, I only had to replace one piece. I gave it one solid tap just to settle things and the whole thing broke in pieces. I spent the next hour or so trying to put together all the puzzle pieces of pipe and elbows laying around the workroom into a facsimile of what I had seen before (had I known this would happen I might have paid closer attention).
The kids played in the maze of mower trails and pretended to be on a boat. The baby chewed on pipe fittings and watched me suspiciously. Fallon lay on a blanket pretending to sleep when I asked for help.
Finally as I stood with an unrecognizable brass valve thing in one hand and the hammer I was beating it with in the other she piped up. "Mom you don't need to be able to fix a well house...look at all the other stuff you already know how to do...it's a well house mom and you're a girl."
"Not today I'm not." I growled. But she was right, I am a girl and my genetic predisposition to nurturing has absolute nothing to do with fixing plumbing.
I finally gave up on the well house.
Do you know how hard it is to dismantle a trampoline with nothing but a pair of needle nose pliers?
I do. It takes roughly one hour to remove ten springs. I have decided to save this project for another day as well.
With a lot of close calls and a large amount of gasoline we managed to get all the wet wood and lumber burning. It seems destruction is more my line. We danced around the bonfire eating chips and drinking ice tea from the jug.
I was beginning to lose it. But at least something on my list was getting done.
Now it was time to move the motor home...my dads' '77 Dodge monster that was adorning my yard all winter sinking ever deeper into our notorious mud. I had put the battery charger on it all night and got it going. Now I took a chain and connected it to the back of my van. I gave Fallon specific instructions on how to help pull and told her three times to stop if I honked.
Little did I know the horn was broken.
After some horrendous grating noises and a few chugging attempts at turning over the engine the battery died again. Fallon finally stopped the van. "Was it supposed to sound like that?" she asked.
Onto the next thing.
The charger was busy trying to reanimate the old Ford Explorer so I stopped long enough to scarf up some chips, add more wood to the fire and beat my chest while jumping on the now saggier trampoline with the pirates. The baby had now decided he was bored of this adventure and he began to complain.
The Ford Explorer started and I limped it back to the barn.
Yay!!! I could finally scratch something off the list. I shook my fist at the sky and chortled madly. The children stayed clear of me now.
I wrestled a fourteen foot tree limb to the ground and dropped it into the bon fire. Effin woohoo!!!!...Two things!! Two Man Things...and it had only been six hours! Alright!
Fortified by my success I rounded up the kids and let Liam "drive" back to my mom's, just like my dad used to do with me. (country living, dirt roads, nothing but cows and grass).
"Now we can wash the car" I shouted with a sort of gleeful mania that made them all agree to help because they were afraid of my reaction if they didn't.
This was the good part. Sweaty, bruised, bleeding, blistered, and exhausted, with an uncompleted list, I had the time of my life having water fights with the kids and washing the van the old fashioned way with sloppy wet slaps of warm sudsy water.
Later, drinking a margarita on the porch while the tub filled with hot water I felt really good...but also really humbled.
Who was I to think I could fill Man shoes...shoes that boys spend all those years growing into? I'm not a man...I'm just barely a lad. A momlad.
Homework
Start something you can't finish. No list.
Extra Credit
Enjoy the journey while being happy with a minimum of accomplishments.
Objective
Roll With It
Example
This morning I was awakened at 6:30 by a frantic pounding at my window.
On school days my neighbor goes to work really early, so her boys come over and stare at the television without speaking until the school bus comes. This has been our routine for years. They knock, I answer and they shuffle in wordlessly, sometimes taking offerings of food but mostly just becoming immobile pieces of furniture on the sofa.
When the knocking began I assumed they had gotten confused, like small animals after the change of seasons who sometimes wander out of their burrows into the snow when they should be sleeping.
Instead I found my teenage daughter blinking rapidly in the sunlight. "Everybody locked me out." she said.
And that is when I remembered my vow of spontaneity this weekend and the reason my daughter was coming home sleepless early in the morning.
I've been lamenting my organized weekends so my buddies (we're "like this" man) over at Dad Blogs have been suggesting that I stop "planning " things. One suggested I be a catalyst for good times and not the organizer.
Hmph.
Catalyst like catalytic converter...like flux capacitor?! See I talk dad.
Now I am trying to walk it.
So this weekend Spontaneity was my game. I just let the kids dictate. So we played musical soccer (This was my son's idea, and sometimes I wonder if his future doesn't include h'orderves.) And we danced.
And then just to get our testosterone flowing we played "hunter" which meant that we took turns being animals (Picture a deer with hand antlers) and shooting each other. Isabel was the most bloodthirsty... if you can remember that scene in T2 where Linda Hamilton is doing the one handed cocking and shooting thing at the Terminator, you've got a pretty clear picture of my youngest daughter.
And we had pillow fights and played tag and ran in the yards...and all sorts of kid stuff.
Fallon's boyfriend graduated from high school in the middle of all this unchecked play and so we dusted ourselves off and watched him walk in his cap and gown (Graduations by the way are totally boring, especially for two momdad weekend kids in go mode.) After the graduation Fallon was invited to go on a school sponsored trip to a neighboring town for the whole night. The plan was that they would all play arcade games, (or what ever they call them these days) and swim, and hang out without sleeping, and be returned safely the next morning at 6:30.
Fallon's a good kid...and so is her boyfriend and, well, the school chaperones watch the kids with the attentiveness of hyenas waiting for their turn...and most of all I Am Spontaneous... So I let her go. And she came back safe (although I suspect and energy drink or two) and whole, and happy.
I learned two things ...kids will do a whole lot more given free reign than you could ever schedule for them...and it's a lot more fun to just let the moment take you...even if it takes you to musical soccer and brings you home sleepless the next morning.
Homework
Let your children take the lead. This could be as simple as following a drawing they are doing. (My three year old loves this game, when I imitate what she is doing it makes her feel important.), or you could just let them dictate the day. You might be surprised by how much fun they really are without your interference.
Extra Credit
Have another house key made.
