Mom

Could my children call me something other than "mom"? Just for one day. Seriously, if I hear "Mawm", in those whiny little voices one more time today I might snap. You would think there was something really important that they needed my attention for. But no, its usually to ask me what day it is or to recount some adventure they went on in Webkinz World. I'm starting to think its some sort of reflex; that they may have some physical need to say "mom" at least a hundred times a day.

There was a day when my older son was 4 and he fired me. He didn't like something I asked him to do that morning; it was probably something crazy like put his shoes on to leave for school. In the car he told me that he did not need me to be his mom anymore and he would like someone else to pick him up from school. I informed him that I would be there to pick him up until he could find my replacement, but for the rest of the day I would not be answering to "mom" and he would have to call me "Mrs. V". That was a nice afternoon. For some reason "Mrs. V" did not roll off his tongue quite as easily as "mom". As I suspected, I was rehired by the end of the day, but unfortunately I regained my title as well, and am still answering to "mom".

Its not that I don't enjoy talking to my children or that I don't want to answer their questions; even the silly ones. But does every sentence or question have to start with "mom"? And if I don't say "yes" or "what", does "mom" have to be repeated until I make some sound? Can't they just proceed with their story? Its unnecessary, especially since a lot of these conversations are between me and just one of my kids - its obvious, at least to me, who he's speaking to. I'm just tired of hearing so many "moms". I know its my name, but I think its wearing out.

Overnight Shipping or Urine Soaked?

I'm sad to report that Target has wronged me. I'm easily in Target on a weekly basis and I truly do heart Target. They do a brilliant job of knocking-off higher end clothing and design stores, while keeping the cost down. I'm always able to find exactly what I'm looking for and many, many others things that I'm not. And if I'm not able to locate the exact size or color of an item in a store, their website has never let me down. Target is my perfect store. Or, it was.

I'm going to a baby-shower on Friday and the mom-to-be is registered at a handful of places, Target included. It was a no-brainer. During the last snow storm, I decided I would save myself some hassle and just order her gift online. The gift arrived as scheduled yesterday and it seemed it was another perfect Target experience for me. It was perfect until I opened the outer packing box and was kicked in the teeth by one of the worst smells ever. It took me a few seconds, but I soon realized that this smell was the same one as the subway and rail stairwells - piss. I immediately dropped the box.

Within minutes I was on the phone with a Target online customer service agent. Surely, they would want to know about this. I mean, at this point, I felt like someone had wronged me and "my Target". I relayed my story to the agent and she didn't even waiver from her script, "I'm so sorry that you had this experience. We will be happy to reimburse you for your shipping and you are able to return the item to any Target store for a full refund". What? Didn't she hear me? I just said that I got an item shipped to me soaked in urine, and she is happy to have me just return it to any store? That would require me to actually touch this box again. After re-iterating the pee detail a few more times, she still didn't sound surprised, but did attach a $5 voucher to my account. Gee, thanks.

So, today I trucked the box of piss over to the Target store to return it. My husband thought I was crazy, "Why would anyone want you to return that? No one wants to have to handle that". But I was determined that Target needed to know that this occurred somewhere in their packing and shipping process. I was certain that an actual live person would have a reaction closer to mine and maybe let someone important in the Target company know. I placed the clean outer packing box on the returns counter and quickly warned the girl that I received the item inside with what appears to be urine on it. She didn't blink; she didn't even look at me. It was as if this was not the first time she's seen this. She opened the box, despite my warnings, "I don't know if you want to touch that". She said so matter-of-factly, "I need to touch it to scan it". And that was it, a second later she was handing me my refund receipt. I was so confused, I couldn't even bother any longer. Did I miss something? Is this normal to expect that sometimes you will just receive a package that has been pissed on? I must have missed something somewhere when I was checking out online. Was there a check-box under shipping preferences that asked if I wanted overnight shipping or soaked in urine?

I can't say that I will stop shopping at Target. I actually shopped after I returned the item. But I will say this has opened my eyes to a very strange, but apparently common phenomenon. I won't ever open a packing box the same way again.

Going Topless

We just spent a week at a French beach resort and although it was great to be immersed in the French language, culture, and food; we were also surrounded by their custom of going topless on the beach. We've been to this resort before, so it wasn't entirely unexpected, but I have to say that the first day on the beach still took some getting used to. I read somewhere that going topless is falling out of fashion on French beaches, but this was not the case here. Women of all ages were sunbathing, conversing with whole groups of people, and playing on the sand and in the water with their small children - all sans tops. It was a very family friendly G-rated, albeit, topless scene. So regardless of the current trend, why were/are the French so much more carefree about their bodies?

In general, on the beach the French seem to cover very little compared to Americans. But from my observations, its not because they all have perfect bodies - they don't. So, why did I feel like I should be covering up my imperfections, even with a top on? It became very clear to me that Americans obsess way too much over appearances. Its really no wonder that we have body image issues. Is it possible that other countries just don't care? It was interesting that the only person I saw wearing a skirted tankini, was a prudish American. She might as well have been wearing a dress because she looked fully clothed next to all of the monokinis on the beach. Interestingly, the term "monokini" in France means just the bottoms, not that strange looking attached bikini suit they sell in America where you can wear a "bikini" without showing your stomach. In America, by trying to cover up our imperfections instead of just baring them, are we insinuating that there is something wrong with less than perfect bodies? This isn't the best message to be sending to our children.

I also noticed that absolutely no one seemed to take notice of the boobs all over the beach; except for my American husband. I'm sure other men noticed, they are men after all, but there was no gawking. Can you image the Guido crazed frenzy that would occur if the Jersey Shore decided to go topless? But really what's the big deal? Men are topless on the beach, why can't women be? And would my husband really have noticed if he grew up in a place where it was normal for women to bare it all rather than hide everything? I don't know, but I liked how by baring it all, the French seemed to strip away that superficial layer of appearances. Boobs just became boobs, all sizes and shapes, not some mysterious thing for boys to be obsessed with getting a glimpse of.

I won't deny that by the end of the week, I was feeling pretty confident and comfortable with the idea, the idea mind you, of removing my top on the beach. However, on our last day there, I was putting sunscreen on in my bedroom of our suite and hadn't yet put my bikini top on. My 3 year old came barging in to ask me a question. He took one look at me and ran, without question, to the other room to immediately tell his older brother, "Mom doesn't have her 'boob covers' on today!" Feeling gone. You can take American kids to a French resort, but they're still American.

Valium-times Day

Today is Valentine's Day and I'm spending it with my three favorite people; my two boys and my husband. However, I feel like we've spent a little too much time together this past week. After being away on vacation together for 9 days, we came home to the biggest snowstorm in local history and have been snowed in together for another week. We've had just a little too much "together time". The novelty of the snow has worn off and my children don't even want to go out and play in it anymore. Inside they have exhausted every video, computer, and board game; and we have watched all appropriate movies On-Demand.

Both boys made me cards this morning and my 6 year old wrote out each card to say, "Happy Valientimes Day". I thought it was funny when I read it out loud because my first thought was "Valium" - that's what I need right now. My kids haven't been to school in two weeks and the weather people are now predicting another snowstorm. I'm not sure we can make it through another week snowed in at home. I might need a Valium time day.

Pre-trip Trippin

My head is spinning. I am in full on crazy mode getting ready for our winter vacation and there is a lot that needs to happen to get this family of 4 off on a vacation. This is not about who does what, although, I think you could guess that I am dealing with most of the details of preparing and packing. But no matter who does it, is it worth it? Is one week away worth all of the work that is required to get away?

We've done some shorter trips this winter to ski and my husband and I have seen the other side now; we've seen vacations from the parent side. We were packing the car late one Friday night and both looked at each other with the same thought, "They have no idea". Our kids had gone to bed hours before excited to ski. In the morning, they woke up and off we went without a single detail of the day crossing their little minds; everything just fell into place for them. They had no idea the preparation that went into that one day-trip of skiing - remembering all of the gear, packing extra clothes, snacks, and lunch. Their job was just to get up, get dressed, and get into the car. Now I see all that went on behind the scenes of every trip I ever took as a child. Its a lot of work.

Its a lot of work and there's no vacation to prepare for your vacation; it all has to somehow occur during an otherwise normal week. For next week's trip my to-do list is very long. I've been been piecing together summer clothes that still fit my kids and buying needed shorts, bathing suits, and sunscreen. I've been doing what seems like a never ending pile of laundry preparing to finally pack. And amongst the swirling in my head is all of the notes and phone calls that need to be made this week reminding everyone that my children will be absent from school and activities. Not to mention recruiting friends and neighbors to pick up mail, water the plants, and feed the fish. Its just a lot to keep track of. Throw in there a trip to the kennel to drop off the dog and it just becomes a very stressful week. Is all of the stress of this week a fair exchange for a week of not dealing with any of it?

I'm not sure the prep work is always an even exchange for the week off. But for this vacation, if all goes as planned, I am sure. I do know that the minute we step off the plane onto the warm tarmac of that tiny island airport, I will be relaxed; I won't even care if there is a line at customs. I can say this with almost certainty because we do this every winter and every year it feels worth it once I get there. Despite being the one to organize this family to leave on vacation, I will truly be on vacation once we are there. I won't cook or clean for 9 whole days and for most of that time someone else will be entertaining my children. But every year, I do come dangerously close to losing my mind in the days leading up to the trip. Pre-trip "trippin" is the price you pay for the potential of a really great trip.

Dear Child

Dear Child,

I am not a tree, but you keep climbing on me. I am not a rope, but you keep pulling, swinging, and hanging on me. I am not a tissue, but you keep rubbing your nose across my shirt. I am not a trash can, but you keep handing me your empty wrappers. I am not a pillow, but you keep laying on me. I am not a door mat, but you keep stepping on me.

I am none of these things, but all of these things to you because I am your mother. Today you told me that you weren't going to love me anymore. I know you were angry and you were trying to hurt my feelings because you were hurt. Its okay. But you don't know yet that these words don't hurt. I am your mother and I put up with all of these things because I love you. If I can withstand all of your climbing and pulling on me, I can withstand your words. I am your mother and will do all of these things and more. I am your mother and I will always be your tree.

Practice

Yes, I'm talking about practice. I'm talking about practice and how much of my life is spent, maybe wasted, watching practice. I'm not talking about a game, I'm just talking about practice. With two kids involved in probably too many activities, I find myself spending hours sitting and watching; sitting and waiting - for practice to be over. There's swimming on Mondays, Spanish and indoor soccer on Tuesdays, and choir on Wednesday. I could go on with the tennis, outdoor soccer, and t-ball, but I think you get the idea. There seems to be some portion of my day, everyday, that is spent sitting idly because I had to escort my children somewhere for practice.

I suppose some would say I'm fortunate that I'm able to take my kids to these activities and watch them. And, I guess if you've never had the opportunity to watch your kids in action you might wish you had my privilege. But, the novelty of this privilege has certainly worn off, a few hundred hours ago. And now I wonder what kinds of great things I could be doing instead of sitting in a folding chair somewhere in a dingy gym or pool.

Of course I don't just sit there. I read, I check email, and sometimes I even blog on my phone. But, I only do these things because I'm confined; I have lots of other things that actually need to get done, like dinner. I've become addicted to Facebook and Twitter and I blame practice. Extracurricular activities should keep you off of the web, but that would be if we were talking about practice for me. I'm still talking about practice for my kids. But, I'm just talking about practice. I love being home with my kids otherwise and it doesn't ever seem like a waste of time to spend my day with them. I don't even mind most of the sacrifices I make for them every day. Now, if only I could remotely make dinner while sitting at practice.