Dear Hulu. Thank you for the memories.

My daughter is a Hulu fanatic.

She loves being able to sit on her computer and watch shows. Kids shows, of course, its not like she's just surfing the web and watching any ol' thing. Most of the time. But the best part is, she isn't watching just any ol' kid shows- she's enjoying the very same ones that I remember watching as a child.

It started with Rocky and Bullwinkle. Sure, that is a show that was on long before my time... but I remember enjoying those same episodes with my dad. Next, she stumbled onto Woody Woodpecker. Remember him? He's obnoxious... and not really how I remember him- but I guess things are different now. Now that her and her brother are expert Woody laughers- it was time to help move her onto the next shows.

Felix the Cat, Pink Panther, Casper the Friendly Ghost, ... all great oldies. As I type, Fat Albert is Hey Hey Heying in the background. And she loves to mimic the funky words and phrases they use! It is rather comical watching my 5 year old daughter wander around talking like a male teen from the early 80's! Flash backs, man... flash. backs.

I'm going to throw in my own little promo here and say, if you haven't ventured onto the Hulu site before- now is a fine time to start. Think back to your favorite childhood memories and introduce them to your child. Who knows what great stories it'll bring back- but I promise... it'll be a great time.

Identity Theft

I volunteered in my son’s kindergarten class this morning. My job was to sit at one of the activity centers and work on an activity with three or four kids at a time.

I’ve volunteered a few times this year, and by now have gotten to know just a few of the kids. But often, the childrens' names still escape me, especially if it’s not one of my son’s friends and if I don’t know his or her parents.

Such was the case with Hannah Montana, the spunky brunette who showed up wearing a sequined pink tee with said logo. I figured that rather than ask her for her name, I’d be manipulative about dragging it out of her.

I was handing out the activity sheets and came around to her. “Here you go, Hannah Montana.”

I was met with giggles and huffiness. “My name is NOT Hannah Montana!”

“Sure it is. It says so right there on your shirt.”

“No, that is NOT my name! It’s just a costume!”

“But it SAYS so, right THERE! Stop being silly, Hannah Montana.”

The little brunette is now giggling profusely and her voice is escalating. “No, I said it’s just a costume! My name is not Hannah Montana!”

I sigh in exasperation. “Look, of COURSE that is your name because it is ON your shirt. Just like my name is on my shirt.” I point to the sticker from the front office that says “Volunteer” on it. “See? My name is Volunteer and your name is Hannah Montana. That’s so easy!”

Now they’re all into the game. “Your name is NOT Volunteer!”

“Wait a minute. I know my name, man. How can YOU tell me that my name is not Volunteer when I say that it is? And besides, see? On my shirt.”

Three of them answer, in unison.

“Because your name is Samuel’s Mom!”

And that is how my identity was stolen.

Where Do We Learn to Mother?

I know that many who would argue that mothering is a natural skill, inborn rather than learned. I agree - but there are necessary skills and sage wisdom that every mother acquires. Hence, my question - Where do we learn to mother?

Much of mothering is trial and error. It incorporates every general field of education, in an interesting harmonic balance. Management, Bookkeeping, Cooking, Medicine, Fashion, Music... to name a few. However most mothers have "mommy inspiration", a picture in their head of what their ideal version of motherhood is. Some of this probably comes from observing our own mothers, or the mothers of our friends. I am willing to bet that it is equally through both positive experiences ("That was great! When I have kids, I'll do that!") and negatives experiences ("I would Never do that to MY kid!"). That is where most of my parenting inspiration comes from. Television cannot be overlooked, either, though. How many women of a past generation looked at June Cleaver as a role model? Watching shows like "Jon and Kate Plus 8" and "18 Kids & Counting" or other parenting related shows, is relevant here as well. I don't want to emulate either Kate Gosselin or Michelle Duggar but I've learned things from them that I would consider to be essential! Experience dealing with children before having one of my own, I consider to have been an essential part of learning to parent.

I was entrusted with the care of four little boys ranging from 2, 5,6 & 9 years old when I was 16. The oldest was a great help to me. He was very levelheaded and enjoyed helping out with grownup tasks. The middle two both had mental issues - ODD, ADHD and the 5 yr old would later be diagnosed as Bi-Polar. The baby was just that - a toddler. He was the light of my life. Little did I know that from then on, I'd help my best friend raise him, while their parents were pursuing a musical career (not famous, but really talented - they teach now). They weren't the best parents, but they're far from horrible. I don't necessarily agree with all of their parenting choices, but that is part of the reason they influenced me so much. Who leaves two 16 year old girls alone for a weekend with 4 little boys!?

I learned to cook, do laundry and clean - it was expected of me. I also learned better manners, and actual proper table manners. They held their children to a higher standard than my parents did. Respect is a major thing in their household - "Yes, Ma'am, No Ma'am...etc". I learned not to slouch, let my mouth sit agape or talk over people - unacceptable behaviors that my parents ignored. I also learned an important lesson - how to behave in a manner contrary to your personality if that is what is expected of you. They also taught me when to hold my tongue, how to manage a household, and how to care for a very sick child. When the littlest one's appendix nearly burst, and he had complications from surgery I had to pack his wound with gauze and change the bandages when I cared for him. It made me love him even more.

My adopted parents were not afraid to bring up any topics with us. My best friend and I were often engaged in thought provoking conversations about politics, sex and other adult things - not lecturing, but conversing. They challenged us to think for ourselves. This definitely helped me become a more mature person (as if being thrown in charge of a household, didn't!) and to define who I am. They didn't hide things from us, but instead used real life lessons (no matter how awkward, difficult or painful to discuss) in order to educate us. I love and highly respect both of my friend's parents. From the time that I became an extended part of their family, they treated me more like an adult than my parents do even to this day. I hope to have a similar relationship with my son.

The children themselves taught me the most lessons. The oldest boy was mindful and smart, but he let his grades slip when in High School because he was lazy. As a team, his parents, elder sister, "adopted" brother (another friend who'd been taken in) and I found a way to encourage and motivate him to bring his grades out without threatening him (at least not too much!), and he did. The middle boys have been a struggle to deal with for years - testing their parents' patience. I gave them much more leeway than their parents would like, but the boys respected me more. Hrm... The youngest, he is a treasure. I can't believe he'll be twelve in July. They say that you can't love anyone the same way that you love your own child. The love I feel for that little boy comes very, very close. I watched him grow up, from a cuddly lap warmer into a kind, thoughtful young man. He's got an amazing imagination, and the drive to do whatever he dreams. I know that he will be successful. During summer break, I helped him understand the importance of legible penmanship - we wrote a story. After school, I taught him tips for remembering his spelling words, and challenged him to come up with more complex sentences.

There are some days while watching Connor run around and play, a memory pops into my head about the little guy that I watched grow. It melts my heart. I smile, but on the inside, I cry. Some things I do, the way I react - on first thought, it was an instinctual thing but upon reflection, it often turns out to be something I've experienced or observed before.

I love my parents. My mother drives me nuts, though. She's a cleaning nut. She loves to organize and re-organize. I like having a house that looks lived in. She likes perfection. I'm rather relaxed about dishes (isn't that what the sink is for?) and dusting (forget dust bunnies, I have a dust Zoo). My mom has always been supportive of me, but she has never shown genuine faith in me. There is always the shadow of a doubt behind her smile, and a hint of disbelief when I state that I believe or plan on doing something. I generally disagree with her parenting style. That probably is part of the reason that I respect my friend's parents more. Nevertheless, how she raised me shaped who I am.

Where did you learn to parent? Who do you cite as a mommy-inspriration? Where do you get your tips and tricks from?

Memorial Day

As I was looking up information to write a great Memorial Day post, I came across this poem- I do believe that in honor of today, it says more than I could ever.



His uniform, it gathers dust,
And yet she keeps it, as she must.
For since she heard the word, bereft,
It's all of him that she has left.

His many medals, multi-hued,
Recall his image, love renewed.
With pride and sorrow, in his stead,

They form a pillow for her head.

Her love was spilt across the sea
To answer calls for liberty.
Though he's been gone for many years,
His memory still ties her to tears.

Parades may form, and troops may march,
Processionals of neatest starch.
And they salute the sacrificed,
Who gave beyond what could be priced.

She'll line her walk with flags again
To honor all the fallen men
And pray for loved ones left alone
With nothing by a granite stone.

She'll lay some blossoms by his name,
Her loyalty thus to proclaim,
And hold his empty hat again
Until she joins the freedom train.

Out of line?

My daughter is in the first grade. There are children in first grade that have boyfriends and girlfriends. These are normal baby crushes but don't add up to much.

Where I think it is getting out of line is when parents start to encourage actual dates.

Recently we had a school auction. One of the mothers won a trip for her kid and three friends to go see a live performance of Cats. She had her son invite the little girl that he likes. Then she invited two other first graders that liked each other so they could have a double date.

She purchased a corsage for her sons little boy, had him walk to the door to pick her up, open the car door, and take her to the door when it was done. She said this was to teach him how to treat women.

The next week the boy thought it was okay to kiss the girl on the playground. He kissed her on the lips.

I may be a prude but this is not okay for first grade. If they start this behavior in first grade what will be left for teen years?

Happy Birthdays are a Matter of Perspective

Today should be a good day. All I want to do is snap at people. Maybe it's the weather; maybe it's because I'm still sick.

I was hoping to sleep in more than an hour-and-a-half today, but I was the only one who heard Bella screaming, "Daddy!" with an urgency over the monitor. (She'll be 14 and we'll still have it in her room, I swear.) So, I awoke from my slumber to take her potty and we climbed into Mommy and Daddy's bed for weekend morning cuddles. This didn't last for long; she kept saying, "I hungry, Maddy," which is her own word for both "Mommy" and "Daddy."

She gets all set up in her chair this morning, and it's obviously I'm barely coherent. My mother says, "I know you just woke up, but would you wear this?" and she holds up a hideous-looking sea foam green shirt. I said, "Uh, no," and proceeded to fix Bella's breakfast. I'm really not one for talking first thing in the morning.

Dishes in the dishwasher this morning were clean and have been clean, but nothing was emptied from it; the sink was filled with dirty dishes. I emptied and filled it. I'm tempted to do something with the bathroom as well, but why? It's my birthday, so why should I do anything productive?

On a lighter, happier note, the hubs and I are going to see Star Trek once Bella goes down for her nap this afternoon. We have to do it then so that my mother can "watch" her and take care of her invalid asshole husband (he had foot surgery on the 13th and is a huge pansy for pain of any kind).

Bella's playing in the background and SpongeBob is even further in the background.

Happy 28th Birthday to me.

They're already broken

As parents, we all fear that we are constantly doing and saying things to our kids that will inevitably screw them up for life and cost them millions of dollars in therapy to recover from.

I say that we should stop worrying. They’re already screwed up before they even squeeze through the expandable tunnel to enter this cruel world. Or at least mine are.

You see, they are missing the brain cells responsible for telling them that public butt scratching is not okay. And they are also missing the brain cells responsible for determining that poop is no laughing matter.

Last month, the kids and I spent Easter weekend at my sister's house. My daughter brought her favorite stuffed duck with her, who we'll call Duck and who has a zipper on his back for obvious reasons. After all, with wings instead of hands, how else are ducks to carry things around if we don’t provide them with built-in storage?

By introducing this toy to my sister’s sense of humor, Duck was soon undergoing “surgery.” (He had a tonsillectomy.)

But before long, my son had moved from surgical humor (which I find rather amusing) directly into potty humor (decidedly less amusing) by hiding tiny Lego people in the duck’s body cavity and laughing hysterically as Duck “pooped Jedi warriors.”

This was so funny to him that he brought the humor with him the next day to our Sunday morning Easter service, then picked the most inappropriate moment possible to loudly declare that Duck poops Jedi warriors. Except that it sounded for all the world like he was saying “Jedi lawyers.”

I presume that Jedi knights make good defense lawyers? That lightsaber is surely a good negotiation tool.

As for the butt scratching, it all began with a case of the itchies brought on by the darling new dress my daughter was wearing in honor of the occasion. But my daughter was having a hard time reaching this particular itch, which she announced to every single person in the room, one at a time, via a simple request:

“Will you pweease skwatch my bottom?”

To which only my 17-year-old niece, Grace, had a really great answer. “You should ask your Auntie Therese. I bet she’d love to do that.”