Ever wonder how a Want Ad for the job of “Parent” would read?
Well, wonder no more, just head on over to ParentSociety.com where my latest article or rather ‘want-ad’ is running today. It might be good for a laugh (or cry).
Sep27
Category Archives: Fun
Sep26
Life, the Ego-Sucking Siege
Have you ever noticed how life can sometimes be a constant barrage, sucking away your ego and self-esteem bit by bit? Yeah? Well, I have been having one of those days weeks months (as proof I submit to you The Day I Killed the Vacuum and Why I Can Never Be a Big-Boobed Hoochie Mama). But today, well today was like the cream of humiliation rising to the proverbial top.
Today, I had to go to my sons’ school – Teen and Pre-Teen. Not what you might think, I was just dropping something off to Teen. I stopped in the office to talk to the secretary, school nurse and principal. I walked through the school, waving and saying hello to students and teachers I know. I went into the middle school cafeteria, located Teen at his table, having lunch with all his middle-school teen friends and gave him the item I had brought for him. I stopped to say “Hi” to Pre-Teen as he entered the lunch room with his classmates. Lastly, I had a quick impromptu meeting with a teacher and then left the school, waving to more teachers and students as I exited the building.
Once back in the car, I headed straight to the grocery store. Upon arrival at the store, I leaned over to pick my grocery bags and for the first time noticed that the zipper, on my ever-so-snug skinny jeans, was wide open, X- Y- Z.
Yep, that’s right, I had just cruised all over Teen-dom with my barn door flapping in the breeze. (I just know tonight I am going to have one of those naked-walking-around-school dreams.)
(sigh)
And then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, I marched straight into the grocery store and for some bizarre reason, bought a plant. You know, a plant – innocent, helpless and with no idea of the horror that await it under my care. Knowing my track record with all things green (The Accidental Farmer), this venture will surely end badly for all involved – especially the plant.
And so,
The siege rages on…
Sep24
How to Grow Old Gracefully
See that cool lady in the photo? That is my Grandmother, on her 80th birthday, riding the pink bicycle she requested as a gift. The picture was taken shortly before she passed away. I love this picture because it will always remind me to…
Well, if you want to know the answer to that dangling statement you will have to hop on over to my recent post on ParentSociety.com, “How to Grow Old Gracefully”.
Here is a little excerpt to tempt you:
Here is the thing; mostly I picture my personal aging journey being more like “Sunset Boulevard” than to “Driving Miss Daisy.” And what’s more, I fear I will be taken through my golden years chained and shackled like Hannibal Lector in “Silence of the Lambs.”
However… bear with me here because I think I may actually have figured something out for once about How to Grow Old Gracefully!
Go here to find out what I think I may have, with the help of my beautiful Grandma, figured out about how to grow old gracefully! You might be glad you did…
Other musings on age: “Is There Life After 40?”
Sep18
Why I Can Never Be a Big-Boobed Hoochie Mama
I have recently been in the unenviable position of seeking employment. Honestly, in this economy it’s a bit of a futile trek uphill. It doesn’t help that in my job life I have jumped all over the map. However, at this phase in my life I can pretty much rule out a few occupations:
A Vampire – I mean, Bella makes it look pretty cool but seriously, how great could it be having to drink animal blood for an eternity?
A Doctor – apparently you need some kind of special license for that job or something.
And after my experience last week, A Big-Boobed Hoochie Mama is now permanently off the list (and I am just sick over the lost tips wages).
How could such an admirable career goal be dashed with one experience? Well, let me explain.
Last week, I had an appointment with the dermatologist to have a little, itty bitty, teeny tiny cyst removed – a cyst that was trying hard to mind its own business but made the doctor nervous nonetheless. Apparently, the whole idea of someone coming near me with a knife freaks me out (Thank you Nightmare on Elm Street) because the closer to the appointment it got the more nervous I became – to the point where I could not sleep the night before and was a bundle of jittery goop by the time I arrived at the office on “the day.” However, the Doctor assured me once the numbing agents were in place, I wouldn’t feel a thing and it would be no big deal. Low and behold, he was right – that numbing stuff is the bomb! So I settled down and prepared for an easy experience feeling proud of my Spartan Woman level of bravery.
But then I began to hear something– snip, snip, snip, snip.
Doc: “I know you can hear the ‘snipping’ but don’t let your imagination run away with you.”
Um, too late.
It was pretty much a quick toboggan ride downhill from there.
Me: “Doc, you should know, I feel kinda sick at the moment.”
That statement was instantly followed by cold sweats, light headedness, the urge to hurl, and the involuntary desire to pass out – which I would have done had I not already been lying down with my feet now so very attractively hiked up in the air and the AC cranked down to Arctic proportions. Right then and there I knew I had pretty much blown my whole “I am woman hear me roar” status so I tried to concentrate on preserving what dignity I had left. And then finally, after an eternity, the ordeal was over. Ok, it only took, like, 10 minutes, but it felt as if I had watched Dr. Zhivago…twice.
Later, as I lay on the recovery table of shame, the Doctor came in the room to check on me.
Doc: “How do you feel?”
Me: “Fine” (I lied, no sense in enhancing my newly acquired wimp status).
Doc: “Hey, look at the bright side…”
What, there is a bright side? I’m not as big a wimp as it seems? I won’t be trying to live down my behavior for the rest of our doctor/patient relationship? I really am the Spartan Woman I momentarily believed myself to be??
Doc: “…At least you didn’t puke on my shoes.”
Yeah, ok, I guess I will take what I can get.
But, clearly, the boob job required for me to ever acquire the rack needed for Big-Boobed Hoochie Mama employment is unequivocally off the table.
There goes that “special skill.”
Today I go back to the Doctor get my stitches out. I hope Doc chooses his shoes accordingly.
Sep7
You Know You Live in a Small Town When…
You know you live in a small town when…
You are sitting in your car at the bank drive-through window waiting on the lone teller (we’ll call him Ted) to finish your transaction. Around the corner of the bank comes the other teller heading out on her way to lunch. She waves to you as she walks by heading to her car. Suddenly, she doubles back and approaches your drivers side open window.
Teller: “Paula (yes, first name basis, of course) could you give this key to Ted when he returns with your transaction receipt?”
Me: “Ok.”
Teller: “It is the key to open the safe to get money out. I forgot to leave it when I left for lunch and he won’t be able to get any money for customers without it.”
Me: “Um, yeah, sure.”
Teller: “Thanks.”
Me: “No problem, have a good lunch.”
And no, I did not run to the nearest Walmart to make a copy, because well, the Walmart is like everything else when you live in the boonies, far away. Oh, and that would be a federal offense…and wrong…and very un-small-town-like.
Sep5
5 Steps to Getting Your Kids to Stop Asking “How Much Longer?”
If your kids never, ever ask this question, wouldn’t even think asking it, would die before this question passed their lips, then stop reading right now this instant. However if, as I strongly suspect, your kids are like mine and fully abuse the question “How Much Longer?” , you might want to check out my latest article on ParentSociety.com,
5 Steps to Getting Your Kids to Stop Asking “How Much Longer?”.
Alright, already, here is the teaser…
My son has an annoying habit of constantly asking the question, “How much longer?” How much longer will something last, how much longer until we get somewhere, how much longer until something arrives, etc. (OK, it isn’t annoying, it is cute, endearing, precious, just like him … now do I get my parent-of-the-year trophy back?).
Actually, the problem isn’t just that he asks the question…
Enough? Now, if you please, go here to get the rest of the snarky story.
5 Steps to Getting Your Kids to Stop Asking “How Much Longer?”
Oh, and if you need further laughs on this Wednesday hump day, I recommend this short and sweet vlog – Boy Meets Tree
For more Sweet Spot Travels: Go Here!
Aug30
6 Budget Activities to Do With Kids in the UK
For those of you not sick of hearing about my trip to the UK yet (I hope there are at least 2 of you left), my article 6 Budget Activities to Do With Kids in the UK is running on ParentSociety.com today. It starts out like this…
Ok, here it is people: the truth about travel with kids. You can plan and plan and plan until you are blue in the face. You can research activities you hope your kids will find intriguing until you are bleary-eyed. You can root out every possible fun activity there is until your head is spinning. But no matter how much work you do to entertain your kids on a vacation, the sad reality is that in the end it doesn’t matter. No matter what you do, those slippery little suckers will end up liking some random activity better.
Now, come on, doesn’t that make you the least bit curious? Wee bit? Go Here!
6 Budget Activities to Do with Kids in the UK
Other travel musings:
Leaving My Heart (& “the Cheeseman”) in Hamburg
Don’t Worry, I Speak the Language
Round ’em Up Son: All is Good in Wales
For more Sweet Spot Travels: Go Here!
Aug23
Don’t Worry, I Speak the Language
I told my kids on the eve of our recent trip abroad to the UK – “don’t worry, I am fluent in the language.” The fact that my kids looked at me like I was a complete imbecile (a mastered skill) did not for one second daunt my laughter (which was about on par with the reaction received when in London, after asking specifically for “lots of ice” in his coke, my husband received five – count ‘em – five cubes of ice in his glass).
These experiences are all the things about travel to other countries that I love. And even though I invariably return home with an understanding of the culture and life in the countries visited, I also always return with some burning unanswered questions – The kind that will in all likelihood, always remain a mystery.
Here are 5 from the recent adventure.
1. The Barber Shop. There are an inordinate amount of Barbershops in the UK. Not beauty salons mind you, but barbershops everywhere you turn. Why is this? Do the English have an aversion to unwanted hair? Does the rain stimulate unnatural follicle growth? Even our English friends were at a loss to explain this phenomenon. However, this particular Barbershop in Salisbury really had us baffled. I suppose it is possible he was just trying to stand out in a sea of Barbers (better than the Sweeney Todd approach, I guess).
2. The Statue. Naked man statue on roof of building in Oxford – I think he wants to jump.
3. The Language. You know you are in Wales when you begin to see names of towns like this:
Ystradgynlais
Betws-y-coed
Trawsfynydd
Blaenau Ffestiniog
Tyywsdllopyddefghjkmnopqurstyz (ok, this isn’t one, but a Welshman could probably pronounce it anyway).
But hey, they do have some pretty cool castles – and you don’t have to know how to pronounce the name to enter.
4. The Cows. “Here in Amsterdam, we like to let our milk cows walk on the ceiling. We are just bovine-friendly that way.”
5. The Fountain. Bird bath or water fountain? Only the true Amsterdammers know for sure. We stood and pondered for a long time, but in the end, survival of the fittest was the name of game that day.
For more Sweet Spot Travels: Go Here!
Aug16
Leaving My Heart (and “the Cheeseman”) in Hamburg, Germany
In the middle of a whirlwind tour of the UK, we flew to Hamburg, Germany (boy are our arms tired, ha) to visit friends. For the duration of our stay in Hamburg, we didn’t stay in hotels, tour many historic sites, or contribute to the tourist traps. Instead, we squeezed into our German friends’ lives – ate homemade meals with them, played on the Elbe River together, shopped, talked, laughed and learned more about each other. The best kind of travel – Travel with the heart.
On my final night in Hamburg, it became glaringly apparent, I must return to Hamburg – to be with my friends again, to partake of the wonderful Northern German gastro delights of fresh fish, cheeses, meats and breads, and to play in the Elbe River once more. But there is also an infinitely more dire reason I must make a reappearance in Hamburg. I must return to see “the cheeseman”. You see, upon the eve of my departure I learned that “the cheeseman” is Brad Pitt – David Beckham – Channing Tatum – Ryan Lochte all rolled into one glorious package selling, what else but cheese, at the local market. Unfortunately, I did not learn this little nugget of hunk-alert (yes, I have a husband, but who doesn’t enjoy a good view every now and again) information until our farewell dinner where, upon learning that I had in fact been to the local market that very day, it was quickly discovered I had failed to purchase any cheese or even approach the cheese stand. The women in attendance began to exclaim…
“Ah, you have been to the market, did you see “the cheeseman”?
“What? I can’t believe you did not see “the cheeseman!”
“Oh, “the cheeseman”.
“He is so beautiful; “the cheeseman” should give up his life of cheese and be in movies”
“I order my cheese very slowly just so I can stay longer staring at “the cheeseman”.
“ ‘The cheeseman’s’ Dad isn’t so hard to look at either!”
So you see, clearly, my Hamburg experience is not yet complete! I will have to return, very soon, before “the cheeseman” runs off to Hollywood.
Some favorite pictures:
Playing Viking Chess on the banks of the Elbe River…to an audience.
Seeing off the Queen Mary 2 as it leaves the Hamburg Harbor.
100 year old underground tunnel, crossing underneath the Elbe River.
Playing and swimming on the Elbe River as massive ships cruise by on their way out to sea.
Making discoveries.
Time to sail on, for now.
For more Sweet Spot Travels: Go Here!
Aug10
Sweet Spots: UK
The Magical Movie Tour
Bath, UK: Jane Austin – Pulteney Bridge
Oxford, UK: Harry Potter
Salisbury, UK: Some Superhero movie somewhere
Stonehenge, UK: Spinal Tap (20 inches or 20 feet…???)
London, UK: Sherlock Holmes
Aug3
Boy Meets Tree
It’s only funny until someone gets hurt, then it is hilarious
Rest assured – boy is tough, boy walked away with only a few scratches, boy then biked 9 miles down a treacherous mountain trail,
boy thought the video hysterical!
It is always good to laugh, even especially when it is at yourself.
Sweet Spot: Marlette Lake – Lake Tahoe, CA
For more Sweet Spot Travels: Go Here!
Aug2
Sweet Spot: Marlette Lake – Lake Tahoe, California
Truly breathtaking spot. Want to go there? Well, no cars are allowed, not even any roads, just trails. So here is what you need to do:
1. Rent or bring a bike with lots and lots of suspension (unless you want your ya-ya parts to be screaming in agony the next day).
2. Get up at the crack of dawn…(ok, or a few hours past the crack if you are like me and choose not to function any earlier than that!).
3. Wear sunscreen (sun, high altitude and all).
4. Wear bug spray ( I swear the mosquitos are as big as bald eagles up there!).
5. Bike about 4 miles up hill (yes, really all uphill), to arrive at Marlette Lake.
6. Leave your vertigo at home because the most exhilarating way down the mountain is to bike the 9 mile Flume Trail – an ant-trail sized path, apx 7800 elevation, along the side of Sierra Mountains with breathtaking views of Lake Tahoe (uhh, don’t miss the trail, it s a long way down the hard way!).
7. And, when you finally make those arduous 3 to 4 miles up hill (for a special treat, the steepest part is saved for the last mile) and before the long scenic cruise down hill (hopefully on the path and not down the side of the mountain)…don’t forget to take a swim.
For this sweet spot, the entire journey is more than worth it!
Oh, and on the chance you happen across the rope swing at Marlette Lake, better view this: Boy Meets Tree
For more Sweet Spot Travels: Go Here!
Jul30
Glutton for Punishment: aka Airplane Travel with Kids
Planning an airplane trip anytime soon with your kids? Well, if you are ever going to entertain the idea or have had the potentially not-so-pleasureable experience already – better skedaddle on over to ParentSociety.com where today I am sharing
10 Travel Items to Never Leave Home Without
My husband and I have always loved to travel. Therefore, since the time our kids were babies we have dragged them all over the USA and abroad. As with all things, doing any activity with kids involved is, to put it mildly, different. Throughout the years, I have developed a mental checklist of items I never leave home without. Most All of these suggestions have been learned the hard way, through the rough road of experience (as in sometimes, there was not even a road, just a trail with big ruts).
Some or all of these items may just save you from a few more grey hairs! GREY HAIRS I SAID! What are you waiting for??! Go Here! Quick!
Some of my early travel experiences When All Else Fails, Cry.
For more Sweet Spot Travels: Go Here!
Jul25
Today is a Good Day
Today is a good day.
Today I get to board a plane to begin our annual end-of-summer-baseball-is-finally-finished-travel-blowout-bonanza!
There is nothing more exciting than boarding a plane at the start of a travel adventure.
I apologize in advance for my possible lack of attention to Sweet Spot over the next weeks while searching for Sweet Spots around and abroad!
As a family we have come a long way since our first days of travel, but one thing I know for sure – some will be good, some will be bad, some will by hysterical, some will be amazing, and above all…
For more Sweet Spot Travels: Go Here!
Jul20
Today’s Best Moment: Friday 7/20
Being a baseball parent can be rough, let me tell you.
The endless season, the stress and worry, the out-of-hand sports parents, the small town tournaments, the bad hotels,the can-never-please parents attacking coach husband, the countless hours washing and washing and washing uniforms, the multitude of practices, the driving, the hot sun, the heartbreaking losses, and the list goes on.
But every once in a while something happens.
A bright spot.
And I am not talking about wins or successes (although clearly, those are good, too).
No, this is an event infinitely more powerful.
When least expected, I get to see my husband do something like this:
And suddenly, in that moment, I know it is all worth it.
Jul17
Confessions of a Shopaholic
My most recent article on ParentSociety.com deals with something very near and dear to my heart, a favored activity if you will, something my son abhors but my Mom and I always adored …shopping.
I know, I know, not my usual literary contribution (’cause usually I write ‘high and mighty’ posts such as Show Me Your Weenus), but I felt like sharing some of my favorite discount shopping sites this week with readers in My Top 5 Discount Shopping Sites. (you can thank me or curse me later).
It starts out like this:
Hi, my name is Paula, I am a shopaholic.
Yes, it is true. But don’t plan an intervention just yet. For, you see, I am very content in my addiction. Happy, even.
So, if you are a shopaholic like me, shopping enthusiast, or just plain curious, go HERE to read the rest and find out 5 places to find a good deal.
Jul16
6 Reasons to Reconsider Being Man’s Best Friend
Two years ago my son was granted permission to buy a dart board because, well, truthfully the reason completely alludes me now (more proof of too many brain cells destroyed prior to or as a result of motherhood).
No sooner had the dart board been placed on the wall when an argument commenced between my two boys bringing to mind a long ago fight between my then teen brothers involving the last frozen pizza and proof that a pizza cutter can stick in a wall when thrown with conviction. But I digress. Back to my boys, I arrived on the scene to find them with smoke coming out of their ears (descriptively speaking, of course), darts clenched in hands and a shattered window with a suspiciously small hole the size of um, a dart.
Well, turning darts into weapons of mass destruction definitely called for an all-out ban on all dart board usage for an indeterminate amount of time.
However, finally the amount of time (2 years as it turned out) was determined when I arrived home to find the dart board placed on the wall (far from any windows this time) and darts actually being thrown at the dart board and not each other (shocking!).
Which brings me (finally, I know) to the point of my story. You see, my boys and I commenced in a rousing game of round robin darts. It very quickly came to my attention that our border collie had chosen a particular spot from which to observe the action. No matter how hard we tried to get her to move, she would not be budged.
Why is this a problem, you ask? I can offer not 1, not 2, but 6 excellent reasons my dog should reconsider:
As you see, our proficiency in darts is, in a word, lacking. So either our dog is devoid of all common sense and intelligence or is truly Man’s Best Friend with an unflagging amount of faith in us. Honestly, I am torn. My dog is an excellent watch dog and can take down a UPS man with the best of them, but she also eats cat poop.
In closing, allow me to add that our cat chose a spot just around the corner where she was positively safe from stray dart harm but still had an eagle eye view of dog…just in case?
Maybe, just maybe, the whole Man’s Best Friend gig just isn’t what it’s cracked up to be…but don’t tell my dog.
Jul11
Ready, Set, Shop!
Yesterday was epic. Bigger than man walking on the moon, the first black president or even, yes, the joining of chocolate and peanut butter. Yesterday, my teenage son and I went shopping. Mind you, not grocery shopping, or all-the-junk-I-don’t-need Walmart shopping, but to the mall…clothes shopping…for him! Yeah, that just happened.
You see, both my boys hate to shop for clothes. In fact, I would probably have better luck getting them to paint their nails pink and do a CanCan on the Vegas Strip. (oh, that is unless there is a video game demo anywhere within a reachable radius). This being the case, I normally opt for the, purchase what looks to be the right size-bring home for them to try on- return for size that fits, method (I know, I am more saintly than suspected!).
I made the mistake years ago telling my kids the story of how my older brothers would always steer Mom away from any and all clothing displays saying “don’t even look, Mom.” Consequently, it has become routine whenever we ‘accidentally’ (hey, a girl can try) venture close to any women’s’ accoutrement each boy grabs me by an elbow and hustles me on like a criminal being escorted out of the store, repeating the mantra “don’t even look, Mom, just don’t even look.”
However, the current clothing situation for my growing teen had become dire. It seemed like all of a sudden, virtually everything he turned up wearing looked like he had wrestled it from some poor, unsuspecting short person. I mean, boys don’t wear ‘daisy dukes’, right? And with our current drought situation, those ‘floods’ were of no use to him whatsoever. Therefore, one brave morning, I broached the subject with trepidation:
“I was thinking, maybe you and I should go shopping to get for you some clothes that actually fit?”
(Look of incredulity, like I just suggested we shave the cat or something)
“I promise I will make it quick”
(grunt)
“We will only go to a few places.”
(groan)
“I will only make you try on stuff when absolutely necessary.”
(eye roll)
“I will run you by the army surplus store when we are done?”
(ding ding ding, we had a winner!)
So yesterday, off we went. I made good on all my promises and at the end of the day we arrived home with a bag full of clothes that actually fit him and, one army issue backpack & canteen.
For me, it was a great day. I got to utter terms like “v-neck tee”, “contrast stitching” and “skinny or straight leg jean?” and experience on a small scale the Mom/kid shopping outings so long denied.
For him, well, he found a way to make it work. I believe his exact words at the moment just prior to this photo being taken were
“Hey, like this, shopping isn’t so bad after all!”
Like I said, an epic day…
Jul6
‘Til Death Do Us Part, Which May Be Sooner Than You Think
Yesterday was my 16th wedding anniversary. Yesterday, I wanted to strangle my husband. Ok, hold on, don’t send for “the Po Po” just yet (and for those of you who don’t speak 10 year old – “the Police”). Contrary to what you might be thinking, it is not because he had not gotten me a gift (which he hadn’t) or card (again, nope) but because he promised a favor.
You see, my husband is one of those good guys. Therefore when our elderly neighbor asked my husband to drive her 2 hours to the airport to meet and pick up her adult son and then drive them the 2 hours back, he, of course, agreed. However, at the moment of acquiescing, he did not realize two things. One, the day in question was our anniversary and two, he would be called to one of those can’t-miss-on-penalty-of-death type meetings.
So, I guess you are thinking I was ready to commit husband strangulation because he forgot our anniversary. But, the truth is, I forgot too. No, what got my undies all in a bundle was the fact that now, in light of the meeting, his saintly gesture to our neighbor now fell to me to execute and well, I am just not that saintly. Nonetheless, execute I did!
Really, I am not as big a twirp as I sound. At the time agreed, I met my neighbor with a smile, assured her it was no big deal when she thanked me on the outset of our trip and declared me over-the-top neighborly (ha, if she only knew).
At first, we played telephone on the long drive to the airport,
“Did you have dinner?”
“Who did you say was thinner?”
“No, I asked, DID YOU HAVE DINNER?”
“Oh, I am not much of a singer.”
Then, we opted for silence.
We arrived right on schedule… 40 min before the flight arrived.
We parked and waited at the gate for arrival.
With my neighbors son in tow, we slowly walked to baggage claim, waited, and then slowly back to the parked car. I paused for them at the crosswalk while a pair of turtles hurried past (ok, she has an excuse – at 90 you are allowed to walk any speed you want and I guess he was just tired).
On the 2 hour eternity ride home, we played more telephone. But after my best sorority-girl conversation starters fell like a drunk man off a roof, we rode in awkward silence. That is until out of nowhere, like we were about to be in a 10 car pile up, my elderly neighbor’s son shouted “THERE IT IS” pointing out our approaching exit (like I didn’t know that since I had been counting the mile markers for about the last 35 miles).
Finally, we arrived back. I wished them a good visit and went home.
When I arrived at my house, I was ready to tell my husband all about my eventful “good deed” – the pain, the suffering, the agonizing silence, the rousing games of telephone. But, no one was home. My husband still at his meeting, kids still at their assigned places. Then, on the table, I saw this:
What is it they say, no good deed goes unpunished? That may be true, but it wasn’t all bad. Flowers, presents, and a happy elderly neighbor… yeah, I suppose I came out alright, possibly even ahead.
Jul4
Looking for the Sweet Spot 