My dad still has not met my son, now 10+ months old, and it's become an awkward subject - with other people. Maybe we'll be talking about Mr. J's parenting skills, or Mr-Papa's unexpected and completely adorable fascination with the Bear, and someone - to use the most recent examples, my college roommate and my doctor - will say something innocuous like "How about your dad, what's he like as a grandfather?" And I have to say, "Well, he hasn't met the Bear yet."
There are two reactions to this. From people I don't know as well (like the doctor), I get the RCA-dog expression: head tilted, brow furrowed, trying to process what I just said. For the first ... oh, I don't know, six to eight months, I tried to make excuses for him. I would jump in with something about how he lives in North Carolina, and he has a teenager, and they are very busy, blah blah blah. Now I just say gently, "My dad kind of sucks." They nod, and we move on.
From people I do know well, many of whom also know my dad, like the college roommate, I get a tirade. All I can do is nod along while they say things like, "What do you mean he hasn't met him yet? The kid is 10 months old! What is he waiting for, a driver's license? I don't care how busy he is! This is his grandson!" ... then they pause and say, "Wait, this isn't even his first grandson. How old are your sister's kids?" And I say, "Well, the older one is two years older than the Bear, and no, he hasn't met them either," and the rant resumes.
I can sort of excuse my dad for not having met Young-Sis's kids, because they have a pretty fraught relationship. I don't know that Young-Sis has ever invited him to come up and meet his grandkids, and given that she didn't invite him to her wedding (or even tell him about it personally) I can see that he might not feel welcome to come without an invitation. That said, I think he would have gone a million miles towards repairing their relationship if, upon news of her child-bearing, he had not only sent the lovely and expensive gift he did send but also told her that he would really like to come up and meet his grandson whenever she found it convenient. He wouldn't even have had to make the trip, the offer alone would have done him a world of good.
But he gets no free pass from me. While our relationship has not been ideal for the past fifteen years or so (it's never fully sprung back from the year he spent not speaking to me because I decided to move back to Louisville), we do still have a relationship that he would probably call good and that I would characterize as "decent under the circumstances" (the circumstances being that he kind of sucks).
I have been inviting him to come up since the Bear was born. I have started to get a little pushy about it. Maybe if Bear's baptism had been less of a last-minute scheduling emergency to squeeze in before his godfather's deployment, they would have made the trip for that. But it was very short notice and right at the holidays, so I didn't take it amiss that they couldn't get here. What about the subsequent eight months? Sure, Kid-Sis is a busy teenager, but they managed to spend Labor Day weekend on Kiawah. I didn't get a phone call asking if they could come here.
I am starting to wonder if maybe he just doesn't realize this is a thing. Maybe dynamics were different back in the 70s when he had kids the first time - and the only time he had a new baby while living more than an easy drive from his parents and in-laws. Maybe back in the day, people didn't make the trek like they do now. I wonder if I just need to sit him down and say, "Listen, Dad. There are certain things that you, as a [nominally] Good Parent, are supposed to do when your child adds a child of her own to your family tree. You sent a nice present, and that was lovely, but it's not sufficient. You have to come up and meet the baby: you travel to the baby, not the other way around, and you do it in fairly short order. This is a rule and everyone knows it but you. It's getting embarrassing, and I am tired of making excuses for you."
Not sure if that would hurt or help.
Friday, September 7, 2012
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Julep: mental health break
Just saw this and loved it. I know we all love to read, so wanted to share it with you darling girls.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Caribbean Fun Sink
Well, Fun Sink and family are about to take the party to the Dutch Caribbean, and with the impending arrival of Twinkle Baby #3 a little more than five weeks away, we are skipping the Aruba festivities this year.
We're all a little (or a lot) sad about it. I encouraged Mr. Twinkle to take one or both girls without me if he wanted to, but he chose not to. Fun Sink and my FIL even tried to convince us to let Twinklette go with them without us. Yeah, she's four and still calls out for her mommy in the night, so I'm probably not going to let her go to the land of Joran Van Der Sloot without at least one of her parents, but thanks so much for the offer.
Twinklette is naturally bummed about the whole thing, as it's hard for a four-year-old to comprehend the intricacies of safe pregnancy travel practices. She came and whispered, "Can I go with [Fun Sink, etc] to Aruba?" and I had to say no, and I told her why with reason and honesty. There's no point in not telling her the truth about it. She loves the baby sister she already has and is super-excited about meeting her new one, so I don't for a second think that she'll resent Baby #3 over a little lost Aruba time. We'll make up for it...and when we do, this mama will be able to make use of the swim-up bar. (Fun Sink had to remind me that it's going to be hard with 3 kids, and we may have to wait awhile to return to Aruba. Is having 3 kids that weird and socially suicidal? You'd think I was Michelle Duggar).
Twinklette was still sad after I gave her my honest answer, and we were all doing our best to lighten the mood and give the Great Aruba Disappointment some perspective that a four-year-old can grasp. Fun Sink goes, "Hey--you know what? In five weeks something very special is going to happen!" What's that, you might ask? The birth of a new member of the family? The long-awaited arrival of Twinklette's new baby sister and lifelong friend? You might think so, but no. "Aunt L. and Sophie are coming back into town, and they're staying for a whole week!"
I could not make this stuff up if I tried.
And now, off to read Julep's post about a most interesting legal case...can't wait to read about her perspective!
We're all a little (or a lot) sad about it. I encouraged Mr. Twinkle to take one or both girls without me if he wanted to, but he chose not to. Fun Sink and my FIL even tried to convince us to let Twinklette go with them without us. Yeah, she's four and still calls out for her mommy in the night, so I'm probably not going to let her go to the land of Joran Van Der Sloot without at least one of her parents, but thanks so much for the offer.
Twinklette is naturally bummed about the whole thing, as it's hard for a four-year-old to comprehend the intricacies of safe pregnancy travel practices. She came and whispered, "Can I go with [Fun Sink, etc] to Aruba?" and I had to say no, and I told her why with reason and honesty. There's no point in not telling her the truth about it. She loves the baby sister she already has and is super-excited about meeting her new one, so I don't for a second think that she'll resent Baby #3 over a little lost Aruba time. We'll make up for it...and when we do, this mama will be able to make use of the swim-up bar. (Fun Sink had to remind me that it's going to be hard with 3 kids, and we may have to wait awhile to return to Aruba. Is having 3 kids that weird and socially suicidal? You'd think I was Michelle Duggar).
Twinklette was still sad after I gave her my honest answer, and we were all doing our best to lighten the mood and give the Great Aruba Disappointment some perspective that a four-year-old can grasp. Fun Sink goes, "Hey--you know what? In five weeks something very special is going to happen!" What's that, you might ask? The birth of a new member of the family? The long-awaited arrival of Twinklette's new baby sister and lifelong friend? You might think so, but no. "Aunt L. and Sophie are coming back into town, and they're staying for a whole week!"
I could not make this stuff up if I tried.
And now, off to read Julep's post about a most interesting legal case...can't wait to read about her perspective!
Julep: same-sex schools, underage drinking, and parenting fail
Girls, I imagine you've all seen the media coverage about Savannah Dietrich ... today's C-J article really got me thinking. Have you seen it?
My first response to the headline - these guys took photos while they sexually assaulted a young woman because they thought it would be funny - was, what little @$$holes. And I still think that.
But then I thought: when you were in college, would you have been the least bit surprised to hear that a bunch of guys you knew were sitting around drinking one night, one of them passed out, and the other guys took his pants off and took "funny" photos of themselves messing with his genitalia? I wouldn't swear that didn't actually happen at least once while I was in college. And if it had (or did), I am sure those guys showed a bunch of people the photos, and the other guys laughed, and the girls rolled their eyes and said, "I didn't need to see that, y'all are such @$$holes."
See, if they had done that to a guy, society would have said it was funny. It's just not funny to do that to a girl.
Personally, I don't think it's funny either way. But to me, this whole situation offers a troubling insight into the lack of sensitivity that can develop when boys spend all of their time around other boys. Nobody has ever called them @$$holes for doing this kind of stuff. And they have lost the boundary line between behavior that may be considered funny in the locker room and behavior that is appropriate in a mixed-gender context.
I also see this as a serious failure of parenting. Those boys have mamas and daddies who should have been teaching them for the past sixteen years that you don't touch other people's private parts (or let them touch yours) without explicit permission, and you don't give or ask for that permission when people have been drinking, and you don't humiliate your friends and acquaintances for the humor value you can get out of it. Did they think their sons would magically absorb the concepts of dignity and respect for others because they sent them to Catholic school? Think again, people. You've sent your boys to spend 35 hours a week (more, since these boys are athletes) surrounded by two thousand other teenage boys. You have an obligation to counteract the hothouse of hormones they are stewing in.
And while we are on the subject of poor parenting ... what the hell were Savannah Dietrich's parents doing while their teenage daughter was entertaining a bunch of teenage friends at their home and drinking herself into oblivion? Were they some of those morons who say, "well, they're going to be drinking anyway, I'd rather have them doing it here?" I respect Savannah for sticking to her guns and speaking out about the prosecution, but I hope she has learned a lesson about her own boundaries. And her parents get no gold stars from me that their daughter didn't know better than to get blotto drunk with a couple of @$$holes.
My first response to the headline - these guys took photos while they sexually assaulted a young woman because they thought it would be funny - was, what little @$$holes. And I still think that.
But then I thought: when you were in college, would you have been the least bit surprised to hear that a bunch of guys you knew were sitting around drinking one night, one of them passed out, and the other guys took his pants off and took "funny" photos of themselves messing with his genitalia? I wouldn't swear that didn't actually happen at least once while I was in college. And if it had (or did), I am sure those guys showed a bunch of people the photos, and the other guys laughed, and the girls rolled their eyes and said, "I didn't need to see that, y'all are such @$$holes."
See, if they had done that to a guy, society would have said it was funny. It's just not funny to do that to a girl.
Personally, I don't think it's funny either way. But to me, this whole situation offers a troubling insight into the lack of sensitivity that can develop when boys spend all of their time around other boys. Nobody has ever called them @$$holes for doing this kind of stuff. And they have lost the boundary line between behavior that may be considered funny in the locker room and behavior that is appropriate in a mixed-gender context.
I also see this as a serious failure of parenting. Those boys have mamas and daddies who should have been teaching them for the past sixteen years that you don't touch other people's private parts (or let them touch yours) without explicit permission, and you don't give or ask for that permission when people have been drinking, and you don't humiliate your friends and acquaintances for the humor value you can get out of it. Did they think their sons would magically absorb the concepts of dignity and respect for others because they sent them to Catholic school? Think again, people. You've sent your boys to spend 35 hours a week (more, since these boys are athletes) surrounded by two thousand other teenage boys. You have an obligation to counteract the hothouse of hormones they are stewing in.
And while we are on the subject of poor parenting ... what the hell were Savannah Dietrich's parents doing while their teenage daughter was entertaining a bunch of teenage friends at their home and drinking herself into oblivion? Were they some of those morons who say, "well, they're going to be drinking anyway, I'd rather have them doing it here?" I respect Savannah for sticking to her guns and speaking out about the prosecution, but I hope she has learned a lesson about her own boundaries. And her parents get no gold stars from me that their daughter didn't know better than to get blotto drunk with a couple of @$$holes.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Twinkle: Tales of the Bar Mitzvah Weekend, Part II
Theory Confirmed
Remember in Part I, when I said that if you never give your kid chocolate, your kid will go ape shit when confronted with chocolate? Mr. Twinkle and I also had a conversation last night in which I asked him if Sophie really doesn't like chocolate, or if my SIL just wants to convince Sophie that she doesn't like chocolate. (Because--who knows?--maybe she really doesn't like it. I wasn't crazy about it as a little kid, but I was just interested in where the chocolate hate was coming from).
Well, as I suspected, it turns out Sophie likes chocolate, and all the trash-talking of chocolate is purely part of my SIL's anti-chooclate propaganda machine. It seems that Sophie was alone with three little girls who fed her lots and lots and lots of chocolate, to the point of sickness. I can see how that would be enough to turn a girl off to chocolate (and maybe it did) but my point is this: when chocolate was around, and my SIL wasn't, Sophie went ape shit.
The Food Police at Lunch
Poor Sophie wanted part of Twinklette's waffle at lunch. Sophie had to eat her fruit first (that would be the kind of thing I would require of my children at home, but at a party, I still say the rules can be relaxed). Sophie wanted some lemonade, so my SIL said she could have mostly water with a little lemonade poured in, and Twinklette (Lord bless her) chimed in and said, "Is lemonade good with water?"
When I sat down with my plate and was trying to wrestle with Tiny T to eat something, Twinklette kept saying, "Am I finished, am I finished, am I finished, Mommy?" I didn't really know or care at that point; I was focused on other things and I really don't expect her to eat all that great at a party where there are lots of distractions and the main dish is a sweet souffle made with croissants. All she wanted was one M&M, which someone in that crazy family told her she could have if she ate her lunch. I was like, "Yeah, you can have an M&M." One M&M was probably better for her than a whole serving of sweet croissant souffle. Those people are crazy.
Oh yeah, they gave Sophie an M&M after she ate her lunch, too. (Her father did, not my SIL). So I guess there's more evidence supporting the fact that she does like chocolate, after all.
Our Growing Family
Mr. Twinkle has a college friend who has three little girls and his wife just found out they're having their fourth--a boy. So my brother-in-law jokingly asked if we were in some kind of a contest with them, and we went along with the joke. I was all, "We'll match them kid for kid and won't stop until they do!" and everyone laughed, except my MIL, who clearly thinks we are really in a reproduction competition with these people.
So I think my MIL has taken a new tactic in her efforts to curb our baby-makin'. Everyone was laughing and she, bless her heart, just cannot come off like she's cracking a joke because there's serious venom underneath. Everyone was laughing about us trying to keep up with this other family, and Fun Sink went slightly off topic with, "I think you all should just knock down the wall between the girls' rooms and just have a huge bunker in there, like [SIL] did in college. Of course, she had someone paying her way, as everyone there did." And I'm confused by that statement, because the last time I checked, our children do have someone paying their way, and it's not extended family, and it's not the government welfare program, and it's not a federal student loan. It's us. So I told her idea was a great one--there's always room for one more bunker in this growing girls' dormitory.
Remember in Part I, when I said that if you never give your kid chocolate, your kid will go ape shit when confronted with chocolate? Mr. Twinkle and I also had a conversation last night in which I asked him if Sophie really doesn't like chocolate, or if my SIL just wants to convince Sophie that she doesn't like chocolate. (Because--who knows?--maybe she really doesn't like it. I wasn't crazy about it as a little kid, but I was just interested in where the chocolate hate was coming from).
Well, as I suspected, it turns out Sophie likes chocolate, and all the trash-talking of chocolate is purely part of my SIL's anti-chooclate propaganda machine. It seems that Sophie was alone with three little girls who fed her lots and lots and lots of chocolate, to the point of sickness. I can see how that would be enough to turn a girl off to chocolate (and maybe it did) but my point is this: when chocolate was around, and my SIL wasn't, Sophie went ape shit.
The Food Police at Lunch
Poor Sophie wanted part of Twinklette's waffle at lunch. Sophie had to eat her fruit first (that would be the kind of thing I would require of my children at home, but at a party, I still say the rules can be relaxed). Sophie wanted some lemonade, so my SIL said she could have mostly water with a little lemonade poured in, and Twinklette (Lord bless her) chimed in and said, "Is lemonade good with water?"
When I sat down with my plate and was trying to wrestle with Tiny T to eat something, Twinklette kept saying, "Am I finished, am I finished, am I finished, Mommy?" I didn't really know or care at that point; I was focused on other things and I really don't expect her to eat all that great at a party where there are lots of distractions and the main dish is a sweet souffle made with croissants. All she wanted was one M&M, which someone in that crazy family told her she could have if she ate her lunch. I was like, "Yeah, you can have an M&M." One M&M was probably better for her than a whole serving of sweet croissant souffle. Those people are crazy.
Oh yeah, they gave Sophie an M&M after she ate her lunch, too. (Her father did, not my SIL). So I guess there's more evidence supporting the fact that she does like chocolate, after all.
Our Growing Family
Mr. Twinkle has a college friend who has three little girls and his wife just found out they're having their fourth--a boy. So my brother-in-law jokingly asked if we were in some kind of a contest with them, and we went along with the joke. I was all, "We'll match them kid for kid and won't stop until they do!" and everyone laughed, except my MIL, who clearly thinks we are really in a reproduction competition with these people.
So I think my MIL has taken a new tactic in her efforts to curb our baby-makin'. Everyone was laughing and she, bless her heart, just cannot come off like she's cracking a joke because there's serious venom underneath. Everyone was laughing about us trying to keep up with this other family, and Fun Sink went slightly off topic with, "I think you all should just knock down the wall between the girls' rooms and just have a huge bunker in there, like [SIL] did in college. Of course, she had someone paying her way, as everyone there did." And I'm confused by that statement, because the last time I checked, our children do have someone paying their way, and it's not extended family, and it's not the government welfare program, and it's not a federal student loan. It's us. So I told her idea was a great one--there's always room for one more bunker in this growing girls' dormitory.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Twinkle: Tales of the Bar Mitzvah Weekend, Part I
It's the long-anticipated Bar Mitzvah weekend, which means two things. 1). We get to watch a kid at the peak of his awkwardness stand up in front of a room and chant in a foreign tongue, and 2). I will have lots of tales from the Fun Sink front. Here they are:
Landscaping
So, this week Fun Sink decided that our yard needed sprucing up, so she took the liberty of scheduling a landscaping crew under the auspices of giving Mr. Twinkle a much-needed "surprise." (And, hey--if he doesn't have to mow the lawn one weekend, we'll take it). She actually called me one day this week and said, "I've scheduled a landscaping crew and I'm coming over in 5 minutes to tell them what I want them to do." Alright, Fun Sink, it's only my yard. I guess I should say "thank you" for this glorious "surprise." (How ironic that the "surprise" coincided with a time when lots of family and friends will be in from out of town and could possibly drive by our house--and how embarrassing if the lawn hadn't been cut since last Saturday). Anyway, as I was telling Lola, it gave me a good opportunity to b*tch about Fun Sink with the head landscaping guy, who surmised in about 30 seconds that Fun Sink is never, ever going to be happy.
Anyway, Mr. Twinkle hadn't been home yet today to witness the surprise, so some random relative comes up and says, "I drove past your house today and saw all those landscapers out there working so hard--it looks great!" right in front of Mr. Twinkle and Fun Sink. Fun Sink looked weary, without a touch of humor, and said, "It was supposed to be a surprise!" If it had been me, I don't think I would have let the random relative know she'd ruined a glorious surprise. I think I would have just kept my damn mouth shut while the owner of the house said "thank you," because all Fun Sink's reaction did was make the random relative feel guilty about it. And also, note to Fun Sink: maybe actually make your surprises fun and people will know they're special surprises and not ruin them.
Chickpea BBQ Burgers
I didn't even notice this one, until Mr. Twinkle pointed out how rude it was. To his credit, Mr. Twinkle is always talking about how good my cooking is to Fun Sink (who never seems to hear it, somehow). Tonight he was extolling the virtues of the veggie burger recipe I made last night, and Fun Sink interrupted with a story of some Thai green bean/tofu dish in a peanut sauce that my SIL made (of course, because everything SIL makes is vastly superior to anything I could make, no matter how long I spent soaking, cooking, and mashing chickpeas). It's not even that big of a deal to me, but what IS a big deal is that Mr. Twinkle noticed the slight and labeled it "so typical." It is, indeed, so typical that I didn't even notice it until he brought it up.
Brutally Rebuffed
So Twinklette and Tiny T were up way past their bedtime at a very grown-up dinner and were great for the entire night--good manners, no screaming or crying, sweet to the adults. There was one time when Twinklette and her cousin Sophie got a little excited, and it happened to be when everyone was being seated for dinner. They basically tore into the room doing a bit of a rebel yell. Naturally, I sprang to action--but, so did Fun Sink, of course. I grabbed Twinklette by the arm and started to escort her out into the quiet hallway where I could calm her down and remind her that she was at a grown-up dinner. Fun Sink was fast on my heels, and y'all would have been proud of me. Before she could do anything, I firmly and almost smart-assedly (not that it could ever be proven) said, "It's alright, Fun Sink--IIIIIII've got this one." She made some excuse and sank back. It was truly a victory.
---
And now I have a little complaining to do about my SIL. I think she has taken her damn healthy eating philosophy to annoying degrees with her kid.
I am of the belief that a little bit of sugar at a party now and then is part of childhood and never hurt anyone. I try to let my children's access to sweets be moderate and reasonable--otherwise, I feel like they will go completely ape shit the first time they are around a bowl of M&Ms when I'm not around to tell them no. Also, if sweets are forbidden, then they become something to feel guilty about and hide from your mother, and the next thing you know you're Sammi Brady, binging on Twinkies in your closet and drugging your sister's boyfriend so he'll impregnate you and you can screw up everyone's life. Now I love you, Sammi Brady, and you're my friend from way back--but I can't have that. My girls are welcome to eat sweets in moderation as long as they ask me first, and one day I hope to gossip with them over a big bowl of M&Ms and a huge bottle of red wine. May we all know how to moderate accordingly.
Well, sweets are forbidden to poor little Sophie, whose parents take little snack bags of carrots to Fourth of July parades while other children are treated to a special treat of cotton candy or kettle corn. My SIL spent the entire evening badmouthing chocolate to poor Sophie, who didn't even get to experience the joy of dipping a strawberry into the chocolate fountain, like both my girls did with great enthusiasm. "Oh no, Sophie--that's chocolate. I don't think you'll like that." (Meanwhile, Twinklette's mouth is ringed with with a layer of chocolate reminiscent of Johnny Depp's goatee). Since when is chocolate bad? I'm not saying treat it as a food group, but where is the joy in life if your mother doesn't let you dip your strawberry in the chocolate fountain sometimes? I think each of my girls had one chocolate-dipped strawberry. They lived; they are not part of the childhood obesity epidemic.
Later Sophie and Twinklette came up to the table, each with some little cookie that looked like a biscotti or something. Everyone at the table looked at my SIL with panicked looks and some even said, "Don't look at me--I didn't give it to her!!!!!" And my SIL was actually upset about who gave it to her, and demanded that Sophie tell her where she got it. Turns out her father was the voice of reason that time--he gave the girls the cookies, because it was supposed to be a party and they are little girls, not anorexics in training. At least one of them isn't.
Anyway...there are lots more weekend festivities, so I'm sure there'll be more stories to come.
Landscaping
So, this week Fun Sink decided that our yard needed sprucing up, so she took the liberty of scheduling a landscaping crew under the auspices of giving Mr. Twinkle a much-needed "surprise." (And, hey--if he doesn't have to mow the lawn one weekend, we'll take it). She actually called me one day this week and said, "I've scheduled a landscaping crew and I'm coming over in 5 minutes to tell them what I want them to do." Alright, Fun Sink, it's only my yard. I guess I should say "thank you" for this glorious "surprise." (How ironic that the "surprise" coincided with a time when lots of family and friends will be in from out of town and could possibly drive by our house--and how embarrassing if the lawn hadn't been cut since last Saturday). Anyway, as I was telling Lola, it gave me a good opportunity to b*tch about Fun Sink with the head landscaping guy, who surmised in about 30 seconds that Fun Sink is never, ever going to be happy.
Anyway, Mr. Twinkle hadn't been home yet today to witness the surprise, so some random relative comes up and says, "I drove past your house today and saw all those landscapers out there working so hard--it looks great!" right in front of Mr. Twinkle and Fun Sink. Fun Sink looked weary, without a touch of humor, and said, "It was supposed to be a surprise!" If it had been me, I don't think I would have let the random relative know she'd ruined a glorious surprise. I think I would have just kept my damn mouth shut while the owner of the house said "thank you," because all Fun Sink's reaction did was make the random relative feel guilty about it. And also, note to Fun Sink: maybe actually make your surprises fun and people will know they're special surprises and not ruin them.
Chickpea BBQ Burgers
I didn't even notice this one, until Mr. Twinkle pointed out how rude it was. To his credit, Mr. Twinkle is always talking about how good my cooking is to Fun Sink (who never seems to hear it, somehow). Tonight he was extolling the virtues of the veggie burger recipe I made last night, and Fun Sink interrupted with a story of some Thai green bean/tofu dish in a peanut sauce that my SIL made (of course, because everything SIL makes is vastly superior to anything I could make, no matter how long I spent soaking, cooking, and mashing chickpeas). It's not even that big of a deal to me, but what IS a big deal is that Mr. Twinkle noticed the slight and labeled it "so typical." It is, indeed, so typical that I didn't even notice it until he brought it up.
Brutally Rebuffed
So Twinklette and Tiny T were up way past their bedtime at a very grown-up dinner and were great for the entire night--good manners, no screaming or crying, sweet to the adults. There was one time when Twinklette and her cousin Sophie got a little excited, and it happened to be when everyone was being seated for dinner. They basically tore into the room doing a bit of a rebel yell. Naturally, I sprang to action--but, so did Fun Sink, of course. I grabbed Twinklette by the arm and started to escort her out into the quiet hallway where I could calm her down and remind her that she was at a grown-up dinner. Fun Sink was fast on my heels, and y'all would have been proud of me. Before she could do anything, I firmly and almost smart-assedly (not that it could ever be proven) said, "It's alright, Fun Sink--IIIIIII've got this one." She made some excuse and sank back. It was truly a victory.
---
And now I have a little complaining to do about my SIL. I think she has taken her damn healthy eating philosophy to annoying degrees with her kid.
I am of the belief that a little bit of sugar at a party now and then is part of childhood and never hurt anyone. I try to let my children's access to sweets be moderate and reasonable--otherwise, I feel like they will go completely ape shit the first time they are around a bowl of M&Ms when I'm not around to tell them no. Also, if sweets are forbidden, then they become something to feel guilty about and hide from your mother, and the next thing you know you're Sammi Brady, binging on Twinkies in your closet and drugging your sister's boyfriend so he'll impregnate you and you can screw up everyone's life. Now I love you, Sammi Brady, and you're my friend from way back--but I can't have that. My girls are welcome to eat sweets in moderation as long as they ask me first, and one day I hope to gossip with them over a big bowl of M&Ms and a huge bottle of red wine. May we all know how to moderate accordingly.
Well, sweets are forbidden to poor little Sophie, whose parents take little snack bags of carrots to Fourth of July parades while other children are treated to a special treat of cotton candy or kettle corn. My SIL spent the entire evening badmouthing chocolate to poor Sophie, who didn't even get to experience the joy of dipping a strawberry into the chocolate fountain, like both my girls did with great enthusiasm. "Oh no, Sophie--that's chocolate. I don't think you'll like that." (Meanwhile, Twinklette's mouth is ringed with with a layer of chocolate reminiscent of Johnny Depp's goatee). Since when is chocolate bad? I'm not saying treat it as a food group, but where is the joy in life if your mother doesn't let you dip your strawberry in the chocolate fountain sometimes? I think each of my girls had one chocolate-dipped strawberry. They lived; they are not part of the childhood obesity epidemic.
Later Sophie and Twinklette came up to the table, each with some little cookie that looked like a biscotti or something. Everyone at the table looked at my SIL with panicked looks and some even said, "Don't look at me--I didn't give it to her!!!!!" And my SIL was actually upset about who gave it to her, and demanded that Sophie tell her where she got it. Turns out her father was the voice of reason that time--he gave the girls the cookies, because it was supposed to be a party and they are little girls, not anorexics in training. At least one of them isn't.
Anyway...there are lots more weekend festivities, so I'm sure there'll be more stories to come.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Twinkle: Epiphany on Education and Fun Sink
So I had a bit of a revelation today, and I think I have a way to get Fun Sink's panties all in a wad about how she can't control our lives without going to the time, energy, and expense of having a fourth pregnancy/fourth child. Because, say what you will about the benefits of private education or the problems with the local public school system, the biggest and most beautiful reason I have for making an unconventional choice is upsetting good old Fun Sink, my children's aspiring educational guardian.
Y'all know that I have been obsessing about schools for awhile now, and now that Ms. Twinklette is in the fours class (one year before kindergarten, when elementary school careers are made or broken), it is time for me to do some serious freaking out. But actually I'm not freaking out at all. I don't want to send her into a huge system where she is just a number and an (undoubtedly) high test score to some bureaucrat. I'm actually really drawn to the smaller hippie-type schools, like Waldorf, St. Francis, and the absolutely adorable Hayfield Montessori. Do you know how much Hayfield Montessori would upset Fun Sink? She would have a conniption fit.
And I know the key is to to start the process and make the decision without ever involving Fun Sink. I'm not saying I love Hayfield, because I have some reservations about mixed-age classes, but I am saying we need to get our sh*t together and know exactly what we like and don't like about the schools before Fun Sink even knows the wheels are in motion. I would like to have the decision made and the papers signed and the first tuition check mailed (if we go private) before Fun Sink ever has a chance to know that we're looking at all. Because you know that she will try to influence Mr. Twinkle on this, and you know he will listen to her because of her distinguished career as a cranky schoolmarm. I happen to think it's best of we make the decision without her input, like most parents have to do. (The ones she has any influence over inevitably end up sending their children to Wilder, and probably signing over custody rights as well).
I was already starting the vetting process, but today I realized that this is just one more way I can upset that judgmental old b*tch. I don't have to have another kid! Now there's a whole new way to get a rise out of Fun Sink. Before I'd have a child without consulting her. Now I can choose a school without consulting her. It's so simple and so beautiful, and it's going to be such a big drama when it goes down. But, as I said, I hope to have a document signed in blood before we make the announcement to her.
Big ups to the crappy JCPS school system, for stressing everyone out so much that it's perfectly acceptable to decide about elementary school while your kid's still in preschool, without your MIL knowing. Seriously, school board, with your myopic diversity agenda, low performing schools, and outdated ideas: you rock.
Y'all know that I have been obsessing about schools for awhile now, and now that Ms. Twinklette is in the fours class (one year before kindergarten, when elementary school careers are made or broken), it is time for me to do some serious freaking out. But actually I'm not freaking out at all. I don't want to send her into a huge system where she is just a number and an (undoubtedly) high test score to some bureaucrat. I'm actually really drawn to the smaller hippie-type schools, like Waldorf, St. Francis, and the absolutely adorable Hayfield Montessori. Do you know how much Hayfield Montessori would upset Fun Sink? She would have a conniption fit.
And I know the key is to to start the process and make the decision without ever involving Fun Sink. I'm not saying I love Hayfield, because I have some reservations about mixed-age classes, but I am saying we need to get our sh*t together and know exactly what we like and don't like about the schools before Fun Sink even knows the wheels are in motion. I would like to have the decision made and the papers signed and the first tuition check mailed (if we go private) before Fun Sink ever has a chance to know that we're looking at all. Because you know that she will try to influence Mr. Twinkle on this, and you know he will listen to her because of her distinguished career as a cranky schoolmarm. I happen to think it's best of we make the decision without her input, like most parents have to do. (The ones she has any influence over inevitably end up sending their children to Wilder, and probably signing over custody rights as well).
I was already starting the vetting process, but today I realized that this is just one more way I can upset that judgmental old b*tch. I don't have to have another kid! Now there's a whole new way to get a rise out of Fun Sink. Before I'd have a child without consulting her. Now I can choose a school without consulting her. It's so simple and so beautiful, and it's going to be such a big drama when it goes down. But, as I said, I hope to have a document signed in blood before we make the announcement to her.
Big ups to the crappy JCPS school system, for stressing everyone out so much that it's perfectly acceptable to decide about elementary school while your kid's still in preschool, without your MIL knowing. Seriously, school board, with your myopic diversity agenda, low performing schools, and outdated ideas: you rock.
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