6 things you really need to teach your kids RIGHT NOW

Today I was in the shower, minding my own damn business, when I noticed something.

A....spot? A piece of something. A piece of something stuck to the wall, there. Right on the tile.

Hm. I bent closer. It was low, a few inches above my knee over in the corner. As I got closer and peered through the shower spray, I realized that there was another.......something. Stuck there. On the tile.

And then, a little higher. Another spot. What was that? I reached out (even though every fiber of my being was screaming "DO NOT DO THIS") and gingerly touched one of these......things.

And then, my hand shot back. I knew what this was.

Snot.

Someone had stuck buggers on the shower wall. Someone had gotten into a nice hot steamy shower and began to relax in the warm water and then, one thing led to another and THEY STUCK THEIR FINGER IN THEIR NOSE, PULLED OUT A BUGGER AND STUCK IT ON THE WALL.

I gagged. I washed my hand. I scrubbed my hand with body scrub. I climbed out of the shower soaking wet and went over to the laundry closet and pulled out the bathroom cleaner and got down n my knees and scrubbed the wall of the shower like I was trying to clean my SOUL. Like, my life depended on getting that shit off of that tile and making sure that it was well and truly gone. Like if I scrubbed hard enough I might scrub the memory from my brain.

This is not the first time I have found snot in inappropriate places. It damn well better be the last.

So as I squatted there with the shower beating down on my back, scrubbing frantically at the tiles and muttering under my breath, I began to think of other disgusting habits that I want to make sure I break my children of before they leave my direct supervision and go off into this great big world as an example of my parenting.

1. Snot goes in a tissue. Or a hankie if that's your thing (but it is definitely not mine *shudder*). Or some other appropriate place. Not your clothing, the wall, the floor, or any other damn spot you find convenient. You blow your nose into something, and then you get rid of it. You do not display it for all the world to see. And while we're at it, feel free to excuse yourself and go blow your nose in private. I don't need to listen to you clear your sinuses, thanks.

2. The toilet seat is always left in the closed position. This is imperative. I work in an office that has a communal half bathroom right off the reception room. There is no stall, it is just a toilet and sink. All day long, people use that bathroom. It is located not 5 feet from where I sit and work all day. And yet they see absolutely nothing wrong with leaving the seat up, the light (and exhaust fan) on, and maybe even a paper towel on the floor. I find myself compulsively turning off the light and closing the door, but I just cannot bring myself to lower the toilet seat. A lady shouldn't have to do such things. It is unbecoming. And it should go without saying, but I'm going to say it anyway: wash your hands every time you use the bathroom.

3. Brush your teeth before you leave the house. Please. For the love of god. It's not just the stinky breath. (Although the stinky breath is really gross.) It's the fact that having dirty teeth - just the very concept of having scummy, unbrushed teeth, is absolutely disgusting. Sometimes I can SEE the stuff on people's teeth. I'm not talking about "Hey, you got a piece of spinach stuck there". I"m talking about YOUR TEETH ARE DIRTY GO BRUSH THEM. And when you're done? RINSE THE SINK. I am tired of seeing the bright blue smears of toothpaste every time I wash my hands. Which is every time I use the bathroom, by the way.

4. Clear your dirty dishes from the table. Unless you plan on leaving me a tip - cash only - I expect you to bring your dishes to the sink or where ever you are directed to leave them. Every time. Same goes for eating in a public space like a food court where they provide you with a tray to carry your food to the table. If you eat a meal, if you have a snack, if you drink a glass of WATER you had best clear your place and return the empty plate/bowl/glass/container/tray to the appropriate place. And the silverware too. And your napkin.
You don't use a napkin?

Were you raised by wolves? USE A NAPKIN.


5. Put your dirty clothes in the hamper. Eventually we will move on to do your own damn laundry, but frankly their father hasn't quite gotten that one down yet and has ruined so many of my clothes that he is now terrified to operate the washing machine. He certainly never puts anything in the dryer anymore. And it's better that he doesn't, because after replacing a few cashmere sweaters we decided it was a very expensive way to "help". But if there is one thing I cannot stand, it is finding a pair of damp, dirty, balled up socks on the floor just inside the back door. Or next to the couch. Or in my car. Or the pair of pajama pants on the floor outside of the shower. Or in a heap on the floor in front of the toilet. Both of which are mere feet away from the hamper. And while you're in there? Wash your hands.

6. Take care of your sheets and towels. While we are on the subject of laundry, there is a spirited debate about how often one needs to wash sheets and towels. When they smell? When they are visibly dirty? When they have lost that fresh feeling? Weekly? Monthly? Daily? When you have company coming? This topic is important to me. Important as a woman who has broken up with men because of their dirty sheets.

There are ground rules. Always having clean sheets and towels for company is obvious. Washing your sheets and towels regularly is imperative whether you have company or not. Haven't you seen the investigative news shows with the blacklight in the motel room? That shit gets nasty. Wash it. My mom used to strip the beds and wash the sheets every Sunday. Including the mattress pad. It was a nice little ritual to start the week with fresh sheets and towels. And between washes, your damp towel should be hung (preferably across a towel bar) so that it can dry thoroughly. Otherwise, bacteria will flourish and you will basically get dirty all over again (possibly dirtier than before you showered) as soon as you towel off. Living in the tropics, we wash towels frequently. Maybe not every time we use them, but frequently.

Even more important than washing your OWN sheets and towels, is washing the ones you use at someone else's house. When staying in someone's home, offer to strip the bed and collect all of your towels and other linens, and ask your host if you may wash them before you go. It's just the nice thing to do - after all you are a guest in their home. If they don't have a washer and dryer, all the more reason to make the offer - bring them to the laundromat down the block and drop them off - paying for the wash yourself of course.


I think that if my kids can master these basic concepts, they will move through life without embarrassing me completely. There is more, of course. Much more. These are just a half-dozen things I have realized (some more recently than others) are important.

Because it is important not to be gross.

The Best Day of My Life

I have, in the past few months, really agonized over my son's place in the world. School, friends, family - it seemed like everything has been such a struggle for him. I kept telling myself that it was going to be OK. That he just hadn't found his spot. That eventually, he would find more people who knew and understood and loved him and recognized him for the great, amazing, generous and loving soul that he is. Have I mentioned his eyes?

When people describe eyes as "the windows to the soul" they are talking about these eyes.

And over the past few months, these eyes were sad. The whole boy was sad. He was lonesome and confused and frustrated and sad. And I have been trying to hold him up, to help him find his way, find his place in this big crazy world, because I am his mama, and that is my most important job.

And then this week, three things happened. First we got another rejection letter from a local private school - one we had hoped he would be attending next year. One that, in retrospect, clearly, definitely, absolutely wasn't the right place for him. (Because how could you say no to those eyes? Are you made of stone????)

But really, that letter was the best thing that could have happened to me. It was as though someone had taken me by the shoulders and looked me square in the eyes and said what my friends had been murmuring for a few months but which I had refused to hear until now. "This is not the right place for your boy. Find a place that is right for HIM - not one that looks right on paper, not a school that is right for you, find the one that is right for HIM." And that voice - my little mama voice in the back of my head, that had heard the whispered gentle coaxing of my friends - that little voice put her hands on her hips and hauled up her big girl panties and said at the top of her very powerful lungs "Stop fiddling around. Get serious. This is YOUR BOY and he NEEDS YOU TO HELP HIM."

So I listened to the voices - the ones both real and imagined, and that mama voice I really should listen to more carefully anyway.

And I pulled up MY big girl panties and put my hands on my hips and I said "I know just the place." And I took my sad, brokenhearted little boy and I put him in the car and I drove him out to the far reaches of the island where the wild ocean meets the cliffs and the grasses blow in the breeze and the trees whisper and the birds sing and the children play in the garden and I said "Here. This is your place. It may not be my place, but I know in my heart it is yours." And he looked at me with such hope, such trust, and he hugged me hard and he took his little sister's hand - the one who seems like she could just float along happily anywhere we set her but who really only wants to be with her brother - and they walked into a big sunny room filled with children and sat down on the rug at the feet of a teacher with golden hair and a sweet voice.

And I left them there, with these children and these people who had greeted them with open arms and big smiles and bare feet and a warm welcome. And I turned and walked away.

Six hours later I returned, to find them disheveled and muddy and grinning from ear to ear, clutching papers and tumbling over each other to tell me stories about their day and Max ran right at me across the yard and swept me up in a huge hug and looked me right in the eyes and said "Mom, it was the best day of my life." And I have to say, that this was more important, more thrilling, more affirming then any acceptance letter would have been.

So that was the second thing.

And then that night, I read something on The Bloggess that just......explained it all. Explained my broken little boy who was so sad and now was miraculously so full of joy that it was spilling out of every pore.

A special note to every single person reading this who thinks that they are alone or different or forever broken…you are not. You are part of a special tribe that you just haven’t found yet and we need you. All the best people are broken. Keep fighting until you find your place. It does exist. I promise.

My boy, he found his tribe yesterday. And this morning, with a trembling hand, I emptied my savings account to pay the tuition to ensure that my beautiful wonderful lovely boy will be loved and cared for and nurtured and encouraged and protected from some things in this world that I am just not ready to accept myownself, and certainly don't want for him. He may not be a baby anymore, but he is still my baby, and he is still a little boy, and he deserves to hang on to that for just a little longer. Starting now. Max is officially enrolled, and attended his first day today. The second best day of his life, he says. Homeschooling is over, he has found a place - his place - in the world.

And next year, when she is old enough, my sweet baby girl will join her beloved brother, my great big boy, at the school in the field by the ocean, with the gardens and the barefooted children and the jungle all around.

You, know I feel the same way

Last night I had to resort to the working mom's cafeteria: McDonalds.

We don't go that often, really. It's still considered a *very* special treat around here. So last night, when I got Lucy buckled up and headed down the hill to drop her off at gymnastics before I started my shift, I didn't tell her right away what I had in mind for dinner.

"Hey Luce, you want a burger?"

"IWANTABURGERIWANTABURGERILOVEBURGERSIWANTABURGER"

and a few minutes later it dawns on her......

"Mama, WHERE are we going to get a burger?" Oh, the twinkle in her eye. She sees where we are headed, and she knows, and yet doesn't dare to dream.....

"Hm, where should we go?"

"MCDONALDSMCDONALDSMCDONALDS"

"Are you *sure* you want McDonalds?"

"YESSSSSSSSSSS'

So we go to McDonalds, and I get her a burger and oh my god you would think I just gave her the world. She's hlding it oh so tenderly, taking big bites and "mmm mmm mmm"-ing. I am rolling my eyes.

"Lucy, can you take it down a  few notches, there?"

"Sorry mom, but you know McDonalds. It's DAMN GOOD."

"LUCY!"

"Sorry mom, don't worry, it's not as good as your burgers."

Well, at least she's got that straight.............

That mushy gushy post I promised you with lots of sunshine and reasons why I love being a girl.. I mean, a mom.

I Got Tagged.
Never before in the blogosphere has my participation been requested. And they may just regret their kind offer after reading what I have to say. I haven't read any of the other answers yet, so that you can get my honest-to-goodness responses, without my having to worry that what I have written sounds like someone else's answer. That drives me bat-shit crazy.

So, here goes.

5 Things I Love (or actually, not so much) About Being a Mom:

1. I love that my children are a real life, wonderful example of the power of tenacity. I overcame infertility two ways (that sounds like chinese food) and by following two very different paths, had the same wonderful result. Happy, healthy, well-adjusted children - one biological, and one not so much. (See, I know that not so much exemption would be useful.)

2. I love that my children have introduced me (via other children they have befriended) to some of my favorite mommy friends. People I never would have met, had we not had children of similar ages and interests.

3. I love that my children have brought napping back into my life. Oh, how I love to nap. And napping, I missed you so. A small but important piece of my soul was missing when you were not part of my day.

4. I love that my husband and I have this secret parent code now, where we can just glance at each other and KNOW what needs to happen. One single raised eyebrow can signal the "it's time to go" exit strategy. And when someone gets in trouble around here, we present a united, solid front, no conversation required.

5. I love the feeling of pride that I have in my family. I know, in my heart, that I am raising Good Kids. They have manners, they are cute and personable, and they can charm the pants off of anyone even remotely charm-able. They are my most successful endeavor, by far. Career ? Meh. But let me tell you all about my kids !

OK, one of my little darlings just dropped my brand new Blackberry on the floor. Which is how my last cellphone was destroyed. I am not really feeling the love at this particular moment, so best to stop and post now, before I change all of my answers.

An embarrassment of riches

I am writing this because we, as a family, have a similar experience every January, and I need some help figuring out an alternative.

Between Max's birthday and Christmas, he receives an insane amount of stuff in December. So much that it cannot be appreciated or enjoyed.

We honestly have stopped buying Christmas presents for the kids, because it has gotten so out of control. This year, I had bought a few things over the past few months, and we put half of them back in the attic to be given at another time, or to friends.

Max received about $500 worth of LEGOS this year, which was wonderful, but really too much for him to handle. We have Legos everywhere. They are under every piece of furniture, scattered in the backseat of the car, and probably in the yard (though I have specifically asked him - over and over again - not to take them out of his room.) He has lost pieces, and I just discovered has given some away, or "traded" - though he can't remember what he got in return. In addition - these new Lego sets are just that - sets. They are basically teaching kids to build models - and once the model has been built, well, the fun appears to be over. No more building nameless, brandless castles in red and blue and green and yellow - now everything has a specific place it belongs, and frequently the design cannot really be diverted from. The creativity is definitely limited....Which I didn't realize, really, until I saw all of these TINY pieces, many of them CLEAR !!!!!

And the Transformer obsession of last year ? Over. I am going to be devastated if next year he has decided he is "over" Legos, considering everyone's generosity.

So, I need advice. I am trying to rein Max and Lucy in, teach them about want v.s. need, and I hate to be a scrooge. But I really cannot handle the influx of "stuff" every December. Their rooms are full to overflowing. Their clothes don't fit in their dressers. They are VERY lucky kids, and I would love some ideas to help them to be more aware of this, and perhaps ways that they could share what they have. It's not that I don't want them to have Christmas presents - because I really REALLY do. And I want them to get gifts they love and are excited about. But Lucy, for example, got ONE Barbie Doll. Perfect. Max got 6 different Lego sets. Argh.

I know I don't get too many comments here (and I am not sure if it is my settings, or just that I don't inspire them !) but if you would be so inclined as to share any words of wisdom, I would really appreciate it.

It could stop raining any day now......

Yeah, it's nice to have a green yard.
My basil is very happy.

My kids are going nuts. I need to get them out of the house, and the dog off the run....but what to do ?

I mean, it is REALLY RAINING. Like, flash flood, land and rock slide kind of raining. I would take them hiking in the pine forest, which is fairly protected from the elements by the trees' canopy, but in reality, it might not be such a hot idea today - slippery and muddy, and unsafe. I would take them to the beach, but the surf is pounding away at the shore, beach erosion personified.

I am new to this - when it was just me and the kids, I would find plenty of things for us to do indoors. BUT there is another someone to consider, who is sitting in his mansion of a doghouse whimpering and lonely. Oh, the guilt. I can't go out without bringing him along ! That would be SO MEAN. So, I need to find a place we can all play. Hm.

Thinking cap is on......