Home Alone for the First Time

A few months ago we got rid of our telephone land line since we rarely used it.

Now that Prince Christopher is 8 he can stay by himself for a little while. But what if something happened while I dashed out to the grocery store for milk? What if he set the house on fire? What if the Jehovah Witnesses pounded on the door? He had no way to reach me. And I am not getting a 2nd grader a cell phone.

Back to the land line for us. It was an ordeal involving the phone company, the cell company, blah, blah, blah. Trust me, you don't want to go there. The best part of it was when, after I had been on hold for a million years, the ATT guy couldn't tell me the phone number to the ATT store. I said, "You realize that you are a communications company, a telephone company at that. Surely you can understand my amusement in the irony as I curse your employer." The sad part was that he didn't get it.

Anyway both my older boys were in school on Monday so Mr. 8 year old and I had a special day together. After a shopping trip, the dentist (Look Ma! No cavities!) and lunch we got back to the house. I didn't work out this morning, I truly need to. It keeps me sane.

We went over all the things he needs to know for my 45 minute escape. Don't answer the door, don't answer the phone, call me if you need me. Kiss, kiss, off I go.

At the Y I am on the treadmill going 9 mph when my phone rings. It's him. I was nearly propelled to the back wall of the gym as I frantically answered it. He hung up. I called him back in a panic. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Are the police on the front porch?"

He wanted to know if he left his Nerf football in the car.

I told him that I would be home in 10 minutes and he can look for himself. After I hung up I figured my heart had had enough of a workout for one day.

Anyone know a good cardiologist?

This Morning My 8 year old said...

"You and Daddy are the best parents I could ask for."

I told him, "Well we are the only parents you’re ever going to get so yay for you."

What? Its true!

Sick of Christmas Yet?

Now that Halloween is over our thoughts turn to Christmas.

No, wait a minute, isn’t there something else going on before December 25?

Oh yes, I do seem to remember something about people with buckles on their shoes, Indians and green bean casserole.

Thanksgiving! That’s what it is! That uniquely American tradition where we pause for a moment to give a great big thanks for all we’ve got.

I must have forgotten it. And I’m not the only one.

Our country and our children especially get sucked into the tsunami of Christmas commercialism. And every year the hype to want more, more, more, gets earlier, earlier and earlier.

In late September I was super shopping at a super store with my boys. We saw flashes of green and red gift wrap, jolly plastic Santas and stacks of stockings lurking at the end of the aisles. In the weeks that followed the brigade of holiday items marched forward ending up front and center by the first week of November. I actually heard a Christmas carol blaring over the loudspeaker at Target yesterday. My oldest boy, who has been indoctrinated in the importance of Thanksgiving before Christmas, talked me down so I didn’t leave the cart and bolt for the car. Maybe he just wanted to insure the purchase of his beloved Axe shampoo, deodorant and shower gel. I have forbidden the possession of the aerosol body spray for the sake of the ozone layer over our house.

This treason of the season isn’t limited to the stores. You can’t turn on the television without getting bombarded by commercials for special gifts that are sure to please everyone under the age of 18 on your gift list. Most ads feature rosy-cheeked cherubs dressed in designer duds living in a splendor of domestic perfection that would make Martha Stewart seem like a slacker.

The worst commercials are the ones aimed at our kids. They are enough to turn any child who would have wished for a few special gifts into a frenzied brat wanting every toy that the advertisers on Nickelodeon hawk.

I dutifully inform my sons that whatever company puts out the first Christmas commercial I see is automatically boycotted. I have stayed true to this credo for years but I admit it is not that hard since some recent offenders have been De Beers, Carnival Cruise Lines and Lexus.

What is the collateral damage in all this pre-Christmas hype? Thanksgiving.

So, what to do? Here are a few suggestions.

To combat the holiday materialism in our house we have The Turkey. He's a no feathered, bowling ball shaped, construction paper fowl, taped to the door to the pantry. Every night we go around the dinner table and share what we are thankful for. Everything gets written down on a paper feather and added to The Turkey so that by Thanksgiving day he is looking pretty good. One night last year my six year old son wrote that he was thankful for penguins. Another night I was relieved to find out that when my 13 year old wrote "speed" he meant how fast he can run and not amphetamines. My oldest son was grateful for finally being 16 so he could get his drivers license. I was grateful that I don’t have too many gray hairs due to having a car-operating teen. The boys write that they are thankful for each other, with the occasional exception of one son purposely leaving out one of the other two just to bug him.

Secondly, let’s all simply slow down. Shut off the television, skip that trip to the big box store and just enjoy the gifts around you with your children. A trip to the playground, an adventure to a museum, even a walk around the block are sure to lessen the constant barrage of buying.

And finally, let’s try to get back to the real reason for this holiday and count those blessings. It may be a hassle traveling with the kids to see relatives, but be thankful you have people want to be with you. It really stinks when the kids get the flu but be thankful if you have health insurance. It may be hard to parent at times but thank God we have our children.

When you put your mind to it there are lots of things to be grateful for. At the very least you can be thankful that there will be pecan pie for dessert.

Gobble, gobble.

The first baby sitter I ever hired I snagged while she was trick or treating. On Halloween night I opened the door and a gaggle of lamely costumed teens mumbled, “Trick or treat”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “You are waaaay to old for this. Who babysits?”

One girl who looked like she had a brain in her head raised her hand. I chucked a candy bar at her and asked her to return the next day for an ‘interview’.

When she showed up she played with two year old Prince Tim (Yes, I waited until my first Prince was two before finding a sitter and I’ll tell ya, my mind was about to snap. With my last Prince I wasn’t as uptight. I left him with a sitter before his umbilical cord dropped off.) Anyway, she plays with the kiddo, he shows her his play room and toys. Then she and I adjourn to the kitchen so I can grill her on her babysitting experience.

After a bit the only sound I hear from the playroom is silence. “Excuse me a moment,” I say during my last calm minute of the morning.

I peeked down the hall and see the front door wide open. I bolt outside and see Prince Tim sprinting down the block, intent on getting as far away as possible. Two years of hanging around with me 24/7, remember? Who could blame him?

Now I don’t need to look for a potential babysitter on Halloween night. But for some reason every year all the Reese’s peanut butter cups have been tampered with and are therefore unsafe for my children to consume.

Munch, munch, delicious.

Here are some Halloween boy stories for you.

From Queen Theresa of Lincoln, Nebraska-

I was at Target with my 3 princes and my husband. When we walked by a display of Halloween thongs Chris, age 8, blurted out, “Wow Dad, Mom would look really hot in those!” Several customers were quite amused by his outburst but also by my husband’s face turning 10 shades of red!!!

And from Queen Paige of Singapore-

While trick or treating I was dawdling along with my two year old Prince Mason while his 4 year old brother moved at a faster pace across the street with my husband. I stopped to chat with some friends. Caught up in the Mommy gossip, I wasn't completely watching my littlest one and didn't notice he was eating all the candy out of his plastic pumpkin. He then starts choking. My husband runs across the street, scoops up Prince Mason and puts the little guy face to face with him. The choking child promptly vomited all consumed candy -foil, wrappers and all- onto my husband. The moral of the story: Always aim a choking child AWAY from your face. This year my husband says he's staying home to hand out candy."

Have a great Halloween!

Reign On!

Queen Linda

I admit it...

... I used Goof Off to get the days old band aid residue off my son's elbow

Wanna Volunteer?

Fellow Queens!

Let’s talk about volunteering for your kid’s school.

I remember when my oldest was little that there were three women who ran the school. Really, they ruled over all things volunteer. They were amazing, a force to be reckoned with as they offered up their services for everything from coordinating the carnival to convincing parents to prepare dishes for the teacher appreciation breakfast. One year I signed up for that one and proudly presented my cheesy, sausage casserole creation only to be met by blank stares. Yep, I had brought a meat dish on a Friday during Lent. Catholic, remember? Where’s a hungry Baptist when you need one?

After a few years I said to one dynamo, “You know, if you keep up this pace you are going to be in a padded cell, sucking your thumb, screaming, “Don’t forget to sign up for a slot at the sports concession stand.” She laughed and said that she would be volunteering until her kids graduate. I hope she meant from high school.

I think that anyone who chairs the carnival or auction does it as part of a plea bargain. They should be excused from any other volunteering that may be needed. Maybe they need a 12 step program to just say no next time.

After forgetting, I mean unavoidably missing due to severe vomiting, work conflicts, the water heater exploding,the sun getting in my eyes, (yeah, that’s it!) I have decided to be a stealth volunteer due to my overwhelming guilt. Again, Catholic.

I keep an eye on when envelope stuffing, alphabetizing library books and T shirt sorting will happen and then I just show up. Linda to the rescue. I feel like Wonder Woman. “Thank God you’re here! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Cutting laminate is my favorite, it reminds me of therapy in the day room.

I never do cafeteria, If a snotty nosed kid asked me to heat up his Hot Pocket I would truly go over the edge.

However they don’t let me let me bring my own book for special guest reading time. I evidently push my feminist/pacifist agenda of onto the children. I did however sneak in The Paper Bag Princess

where the princess decides that the prince is a ‘bum’ and doesn’t have to marry him after he spews some patriarchal drivel to her. This is after she saves him from a dragon. What a moron.

I also read Rolan Dahl’s The Magic Finger

to impress upon their malleable minds that if hunters are going to shoot ducks then the ducks should have AKA assault rifles to even the playing field.

And just think, my kids will be done with high school in 2019.

Reign On!

Queen Linda

Our Wild Things

I love Lisa Belkin's Motherlode blog.

Here is a discussion on letting our boys be boys!