Resolutions

In the spirit of New Year's resolutions, here is a great article by Michelle Singletary, one of my favorite financial columnists for The Washington Post, about getting your finances together in the new year.

If your finances are already in perfect order--or if the mere thought of taking stock of your money in the wake of the holiday spending spree gives you heart palpitations--maybe this article, recommended by my trippy new age friend at work, is more up your alley: (copied from this "alternative solutions" newsletter)

Forget New Year’s Resolutions: You Need a Vision and a Recipe for Success
By Norma Reid

The concept of “New Year’s Resolutions” seems like a tired cliché…and it is when you think of the millions of people who make resolutions for the new year and then forget about them weeks or even days later. What you really need is a vision that allows you to grow into the person you want to be and an action plan to make it happen.

By following the common sense strategy outlined below, you will be empowered to achieve your goals, realize your dreams, and celebrate your successes.

1. Choose a theme for the year, such as this is the year of courage, or follow through, or love, and set your intentions and decisions for the new year based on your theme. For example, if you decided this is the year of courage, you would ask yourself, “What would a courageous person do” before making a decision. One of your intentions might be to take a step of courage each day.

2. Get clear on what you want. How will achieving this goal or realizing this dream improve your life? Why do you want to make this change? Write the reasons down, so if you begin to falter you can read and remember. How committed are you to achieving it? If the commitment level is low, you may want to choose something different.

3. Once you decide on your goal, close your eyes and imagine it is a year from now. You have accomplished what you set out to do. How do you feel? How has your life changed? How and where are you celebrating? Now write down your vision of experiencing success. Make it something like, “It is December 31, 2008 and I am so happy and grateful that I decided to make this year the year of courage. I accomplished all I set out for myself. I made those phone calls that enhanced my business, I joined that dance class and loved it, I made some great new friends, I grew in so many ways … It has been an incredible year.”

3. Set up a system to keep your vision uppermost in your mind. One effective system is creating a success journal. Write your vision at the front. Too often people don’t achieve their goals because they forget about them! Use your success journal as a daily reminder.

4. Next, look at the barriers that could get in your way and set up strategies to overcome them. Remember your self-talk -- identify what you tell yourself that could sabotage your success and create replacement thoughts instead. Determine the types of support that will empower you along the way -- a buddy, book, course, coach, or something else. Now put them in place.

5. Create an action plan to achieve your resolutions. Take what you want to accomplish in the year and break it down into 3-month plans. From that create monthly, weekly and daily plans.

6. Each morning grab your success journal, read your vision statement with feeling and write down what step(s) you will take that day. Then each evening write down all the steps you took. Besides being a great reminder and motivator of what you are doing and why, it’s also a way to celebrate your daily accomplishments.

7. If you get off track for a while, don’t beat yourself up, simply course correct and continue.

The reasons we have goals and dreams are to grow as people and enjoy the journey to a more fulfilling life… the life of our dreams.

Whatever your resolutions may be, I hope everyone has a happy, healthy and prosperous 2008.

I forgot to add that we really wished that Cassie and her family could have been here for Christmas; hopefully next year.

Geez it's been a long time since I've written in here--especially if you count the fact that my last few posts weren't anything I actually wrote. I think the creative spirit has left me for the winter--I keep drawing a total blank whenever I think about writing something.

Did I mention I hate winter? I must have thin blood or something because I can't STAND being cold and am cold all the time in the winter. Forget going outside basically ever, which I'm sure doesn't do anything for the flat feeling that starts in about October and lasts pretty much until daylight savings time is over (or does it start in the Spring?)

Total sidebar--I don't understand why it is grammatically correct to end a sentence with the punctuation inside a parenthesis. It just seems wrong to me.

Anyway, I hate winter and pretty much also hate Christmas. Granted, the actual DAY of Christmas was fun--we had two extra kids this year, Patrick's neice and nephew (or, as the niece lamented to Mimi at Hebrew school "You're so lucky to have Patrick as a step-dad--he used to be my uncle"); apparently she thinks that because he's no longer married to her blood aunt he's not her uncle anymore, which couldn't be further from the truth. (and, illustrating my point about the parenthesis, was that semi-colon supposed to be inside the parenthesis or not?)

(I do understand, however, that when a whole sentence is inside parenthesis it makes sense to also have the end punctuation inside.)

Sorry...so anyway, we had the four kids and Patrick's "ex" brother- and sister-in-law, who, again, are still as close to him as ever despite his divorce. It was an interesting dynamic because both my kids and the niece and nephew are Jewish; the niece and nephew have traditionally stayed at Patrick's house on Christmas Eve so Santa can consider them temporary Christians worthy of receiving gifts. They totally believe in Santa so I had to put the fear of god into my jaded kids not to spoil it for them by letting on that Santa is not, in fact, real. The kids spent the evening of the 24th glued to the computer monitoring the "Santa tracker" to keep tabs on where he was in relation to our house.

Christmas morning was a jumble of a million presents--it took a full hour for us all to open the ridiculous number of gifts under the tree--and a fun breakfast with the sort of in-laws. Then they left and it was time for the grand finale gift for our kids. This concept was totally initiated by Patrick, as I am usually too pragmatic to give into the big ticket item as gift for children; left to my own devices I would never have gotten an iPod for a 12 year old. But Patrick wanted to get them something special so I relented and we got Mimi and iPod (is that how you spell it?) and Matthew a PSP. We did a treasure hunt (again, Patrick's idea but it was really fun) with clues first directing them to an iTunes gift card for Mimi and PSP games for Matthew, then instructing them to open the gifts and check under the Christmas tree for the actual gift that went with the card and the games.

They found the first gifts and had to report back to the living room to open them. Matthew opened his first and literally SCREAMED "I GOT A PSP!!!!" jumping up and down. Then Mimi opened her gift card, assuming it was from a store, and when she saw it was for iTunes, even unflappable she started hyperventilating. Then they went and got the "real" gifts and Matthew opened his first with another SCREAM, this time "HOLY CRAP!!!" (yes, bad mom points for me for not taking the thing away from him and punishing him for swearing; hey, he could have said "holy sh*t" and didn't.) Mimi opened hers and was, by Mimi standards (e.g. the excitability of Wednesday Adams), estatic.

In case my description didn't accurately convey Matthew's excitement, maybe this will:


I just realized your eyes are probably bleeding from reading this much; I'll leave you with a few pictures of my Christmas decor:

Augusten's assistant needs a favor

And I know you want to further the bond between me and Augusten by obliging Stewart (his assistant); see his email below:

hi everyone-
i know i sent you an email regarding my novel, and don't worry, you will not be getting bombarded forever...i just have a feeling, since you love augusten's work, that you may be willing to help out an underdog....i am a singer as well, and i have a chance to open for dave mathews band next year...
and i am trying to get everyone (and their mother) to vote for me...it's a long shot but a boy can dream--augusten sure did and look where he is now.
all you have to do is:

Click Here

and put stewart lewis as your first choice. it will take less than a minute of your time and could mean the world to little ole me. and if you REALLY want to help me, forward to your friends and ask them to vote too, and then i'll sign your butt, teach you to read, and clean your house.

if you are annoyed by this plea for help, i am SO sorry. i know you wrote an email to augusten and are not expected to help out his humble assistant. have a wonderful holiday.

So go vote for him and keep the karma flowing between me and Augusten...and also because Stewart's book was so hilarious (see #2).

If this kid were available for adoption I'd take him!!



Actually--Cassie, am I imagining it or does he kind of look like Nina in a way? I swear something about him reminds me of her.

This is classic! A 1st grade teacher (allegedly) had twenty-six students in her class. She presented each child in her classroom the 1st half of a well-known proverb and asked them to come up with the remainder of the proverb.

While reading this, keep in mind that these are 6-year-olds!

1. Don't change horses...until they stop running.
2. Strike while the...bug is close.
3. It's always darkest before...Daylight Saving Time.
4. Never underestimate the power of...termites.
5. You can lead a horse to water but...How?
6. Don't bite the hand that...looks dirty.
7. No news is...impossible
8. A miss is as good as a...Mr.
9. You can't teach an old dog new...Math
10. If you lie down with dogs, you'll...stink in the morning.
11. Love all, trust...Me.
12. The pen is mightier than the...pigs.
13. An idle mind is...the best way to relax.
14. Where there's smoke there's...pollution.
15. Happy the bride who...gets all the presents.
16. A penny saved is...not much.
17. Two's company, three's...the Musketeers.
18. Don't put off till tomorrow what...you put on to go to bed.
19. Laugh and the whole world laughs with you, cry and...You have to blow your nose.
20. There are none so blind as...Stevie Wonder.
21. Children should be seen and not...spanked or grounded.
22. If at first you don't succeed...get new batteries.
23. You get out of something only what you...See in the picture on the box
24. When the blind lead the blind...get out of the way.
25. A bird in the hand...is going to poop on you.

And the best and last one!

26. Better late than...Pregnant

What does Motherwhatnow mean anyway?

You might have wondered what Motherwhatnow means and why is this the redux version.

(or maybe not; in that case, skip this post)

Here's a hint: google upsy downsy mother what now.

How's that for lazy? It was requiring too much effort and time to write about it.

And redux is because I used to be a blogger on a now-defunct site called Mom & Pop Blog and that blog was called motherwhatnow.

Ok, this is boring even me at this point so I know it's boring everyone else and swear this will be the last mention of this, but here is the response the OBGC Executive Director felt she needed to warn me about.

I am now officially sick of and done with the issue! And hoping my kids don't want to play soccer in the spring....

DAMN--I must have touched a nerve because this chick is PISSED at me! Obviously she is not aware of the never type and send an email when you're mad rule. This lady definitely doth protest too much. The huge red paragraphs below--they're her response to me and yes she did send the email exactly like this--e.g. RED AND ANGRY.

Maggie,
Thank you for responding to my e-mail. I wanted to comment on specific parts of your latest e-mail so you will hopefully have a better understanding of how this issue has impacted the organization.


Maggie: My apologies if it seemed like I was intentionally trying to avoid communicating directly with OBGC--that wasn't my point. I appreciate your apology to me, however, your actions from the beginning in not responding to our Chairman or myself over the past few weeks and you sending an unfair and inaccurate letter to the Gazette without trying to have an open dialogue has created a much different impression in our community of volunteers. Dan had no idea that you were sending a critical email to the Gazette, however, he extended an open hand to an upset parent within hours of receiving your e-mail. He took a lot of time out of his work schedule to get back to you right away, and does so anytime a parent has such important feedback or concerns. Soccer leaders were already responding to this issue before you raised it, as was Dan, and the safeguards we have in place were working. There was no need for a letter like yours to be sent to the Gazette, if your true intention was to help the club.

The "view of OBGC games" that the headline of the "open forum" referred to was mine. You witnessed bad behavior at one game and you use that as an example of a false epidemic in a great organization. Outbursts like what happened at your game rarely happen and OBGC does things every season to help prevent it. You inaccurately commented on the Code of Conduct and how we enforce it. You are not aware of the great lengths this organization, its volunteers and staff go through to provide a great physical and emotional environment for our children to play. Despite our greatest efforts there will be occasional problems, but as a percentage of how big this club is, its is a tiny fraction. Your public comments lead thousands of people who don't know OBGC to have a bad and unfair impression of it because of your sweeping generalizations. Now, you don't even file a complaint after all. It makes us wonder if your intent to help the children of our club was pure; we'd like to believe you would never intentionally publicly embarrass the volunteers of this club as you did by offering a blanket statement that was not accurate.

I would think that OBGC would welcome the opportunity to clarify the complaint process and explain why its emphasis seems to be more on protecting parents than it does on ensuring that violations are investigated. Speaking in these terms to us seems to typify your approach to this entire matter. "I think OBGC would welcome an opportunity" implies we aren't already one of the most open nonprofit organizations there is. We survey our parents each season and ask candid questions about every aspect of the Club. Parents have filed complaints and grievances for years and no one has ever had problems contacting us or has even sent an email needing additional clarification. Maryland Nonprofit's Standards for Excellence thoroughly reviewed all our policies, including our survey methods and grievance procedure, and awarded OBGC the Seal of Excellence.

It seems as though you are now attempting to backtrack by taking an unfair and inaccurate public comment you made and are trying to change it into something different. It appears you want to change your position from being someone that sent public criticism of OBGC and its parents to the Gazette that wasn't based on fact, and shift the focus to your new argument that this is an issue of us having an unclear grievance process. Your tone and tactics in the last letter are not friendly and do not go unnoticed by many. You imply that OBGC has not been open or doesn't have a clear enough process so you were forced into sending a letter to the Gazette vs. to communicating directly with us. It appears you were trying to justify your actions with the first letter by making it into a new issue. The only thing that will solve this issue for OBGC and our volunteers is not that you provide a private apology, but rather a complete public apology and clarification of our actions, facts and process that followed.

I am honestly not trying to start a fight or anything or be confrontational, but to me, a reality of being a public organization is being subject to public comment. I appreciate that you do not wish to appear confrontational and this is in no way a fight for OBGC. No matter what a parent's true intent is or how they decide to approach life, we are open to them unless it becomes destructive. The experience on this board goes back as far as 18 years and has dealt with all types of parents and have learned that actions and intent are the true marks of what a person is trying to accomplish. We are well aware of the public nature of our organization and have not been afraid of public comment since our founding in 1969. As a citizen that has exposed that yourself to public comment and response because of the actions you took in sending the letter, you hopefully understand that we cannot control how others may respond to you. You sending letters to the Gazette, while avoiding direct communication with us, has lead many to believe differently from what you explain above.

I am the first to admit that the issue is a sticky one for many reasons and don't claim to have the answers at all; I'm sure that there is no easy or perfect answer. I don't believe you are aware of what goes into trying to solve an issue as you explain. Your public comments were not balanced and never referenced you thinking there might not be a perfect answer. Again, your public comments and actions simplify complicated issues involving kids and they unfairly damage the reputation of OBGC.

Again, I apologize if my public comments have upset you and the other officials at OBGC--it was not my intent. I know that many parents have strong feelings on the matter--both agreeing with me and disagreeing with me-- and I think a public dialog is not necessarily a bad thing, if for no other reason than to make parents more aware of their behavior at games. True, parents need to be aware of their behavior, but inaccurate and unfair public comments and generalizations do not help any organization make progress; they actually stop progress and damage our ability to do more for children. If you want to apologize, please do it publicly.

We are happy to have finally established a direct line of communication with you, however, as was mentioned last week, we were forced to publicly respond to your most recent letter. We hope going forward that we can continue this personal dialogue to clarify any questions you may.(sic)

Um, why am I supposed to apologize for how me expressing an opinion has impacted the organization? Do I care?

I know my mom is reading this and just cringing and waiting to lecture me on not stirring up trouble. lol

You know I couldn't just leave the issue alone, so I responded to the comments in the "open forum" for people talking about my "view" of OBGC games. They ran it in last week's Gazette.

This time I received an email from the executive director of OBGC in response. Tell me if this letter reads like somewhat of a threat or am I just paranoid?

Hello Maggie,

It was nice meeting you at Sonya's Silpada Party last night. She is a good friend and from what I understood, you are a new member of the neighborhood - congratulations. I believe we may have also met at Beth Sterling's Triathlon party several months ago.

We have been concerned about not hearing back from you after our Chairman attempted to communicate with you directly regarding issues you raised in an email sent to the club, while at the same time it was being sent to the Gazette. It would be helpful to better understand your intent of not responding to us directly and only communicating in a public forum. I wanted to be fair and let you know that given the new public letter you sent to the Gazette, we will need to respond. As many members have commented, it is again unfortunate that an organization that takes great pride in its children's programs and activities, is subject to public comment without being able to open a simple line of communication with the complainant.

In addition to the "Contact Us" information listed on our web site, I wanted to again send you my direct e-mail address and phone number, so you can formally share your concerns. Please do not hesitate to continue to share you thoughts and concerns and we are happy to speak with you directly so I can help clarify any misunderstandings in the future.

Thanks,

Elisabeth Deal
Executive Director

Which part of this doesn't she understand that this isn't about me making a complaint to OBGC; it's making a point about their code of conduct? Isn't it a given that if you're a big organization you will be subject to public comment?

It's not that I even care about the issue that much; I just couldn't help pointing out how their policy doesn't exactly encourage people to file complaints.

And--yikes--how do you like the "just wanted to let you know we will need to respond" part--is it just me or does that smack of a scenario where I pick up the phone and someone, in a garbled voice, says "I'm warning you--you better just leave it alone and stop the public comments or else."?

Hey, it's a free country. And now that the woman at my kids' school who embezzled $30,000 is in jail and the big neighborhood adultery scandal that dominated the gossip mill all summer has gotten old, people need something else to gossip about.

Yesterday we saw This Christmas and it was as awesome the previews had promised. For whatever reason I am obsessed with movies about black families. I think it started with Soul Food. Something about the combination of the kitchen scenes, the emotional family dynamics, the gorgeous actresses and actors and the music just makes movies about white families seems so...well, white.

These are some of the common elements that make movies about black families so awesome:

1) The house: the setting for a lot of these movies is often a beautiful, comfortable house. More often than not, it's "mama's house." Most of the social activity in the houses usually takes place in the kitchen. Some of the kitchens are totally deluxe--for instance, the one in This Christmas--while others are dated or sort of austere, yet the ambience is always the same--warm and comforting and fun.

2) The actors and actresses: on one hand, it seems a little....something?....that most movies about black families seem to feature the same extremely attractive actors and actresses (I guess the term "actresses" is now defunct but I'm using it anyway). The characters are usually extremely successful--business men or women, lawyers, doctors etc--which seemed a little stereotypical to me (e.g. only focusing on that one subset of the population) until I realized that white movies pretty much feature the same handful of attractive actors and actresses, but the white versions.

Actually, I can't really make this generalization; for every five or so buppie characters there are usually at least one or two who are troubled in some way--police issues, drugs, etc. But that's another good theme in these movies--almost always the character faces those challenges and betters him or herself.

3) The strong female characters: Female black characters are almost always portrayed in a really strong, positive way, which I love. Whether it's Stella getting her groove back, or a woman who starts as a nobody making it big on her own terms or an abused or cheated-on woman getting even with the man--the women in most movies featuring predominantly black characters are almost always awesome.

There is also a recurring theme of a heavy woman accepting herself and being considered beautiful regardless of her size; show me one movie where a white woman is celebrated for her larger size. Everyone makes a huge deal if a white actress gains 20 pounds for a role--how brave of her!--but of course after the film wraps she's back to being anorexic in no time and all the magazines make a huge deal about what an accomplishment it was to lose all that weight. Where is the white version of Phat Girls? Shallow Hal? Bridget Jones? Please. You know white guys leave that movie cringing at the thought of accepting a fatty, whereas you leave a black movie where the actress is accepted regardless of her weight and it actually rings true and is inspiring.

4) Humor: I'm sorry but black movies are just funny--most of the characters have a ton of personality and are hilarious. Not surprising given that many of them are comedians as well as actors.

5) Music: No white movie has music as good as the music in black movies. Period. Drumline comes to mind off the top of my head--tell me that movie isn't incredible. This Christmas, for another example--you can't not cry when he's singing to his mom in church. Or at least I can't.

6) Dancing: No explanation necessary. Go see Stomp the Yard if you don't know what I'm talking about. The only kinds of white movies that come close are the ones about ballet dancers, and even those aren't THAT impressive given that no matter how much the actors practice their moves, none of them are actually professional dancers. Go see This Christmas for a perfect example of what I'm talking about--how many white families just break it down right in the living room? And if they did, a) how drunk would they have to be and b) how much would they suck?

Go rent Meet the Parents, for example, or Wedding Crashers or some other movie where a white family sits down to a meal together. Then rent Soul Food and go see This Christmas and you'll know what I'm talking about. Which table/house/after dinner party would you rather be at?

Not to be a downer, but I will be doing this Sunday night in memory of my friend's daugher Hannah who was killed five years ago at Christmastime. I can't even imagine the pain of losing a child and I will be lighting my candle not only in memory of Hannah but in thanks for my own healthy kids.

Worldwide Candlelighting Service, 7 pm your local time.

Just a few quick things:

1) I was floored yesterday when I went to do my Christmas shopping online--everything was sold out! WTF? Here I am thinking that I don't have to set foot into an actual store and can get everything on my list online, only to find out that as of December 2 every single thing I was looking for was sold out. And not just on Target, but also Kohls, JC Penny, and I forget what else. I was looking for a pair of flannel pajamas for an 11 year-old, for chrissake! Not even a week ago I had the light blue with clouds flannel pajamas from Target in my shopping cart, but as of yesterday they were not available. Nor were the other gifts I was looking for. So we went to Walmart yesterday and I bought almost every single gift there. I HIGHLY recommend Walmart!!! They have awesome, cheap gift baskets that look like they cost WAY more, really cute kids' clothes for cheap, good stocking stuff, toys, etc, etc.

2) I forgot to ever say that I read Augusten Burroughs's assistant, Stewart Lewis's, book Rockstarlet. I definitely recommend it--and not just because he's Augusten's assistant. The only bad thing about it was that it was so good that it reminded me about the fun gay friends that don't exist in Olney, MD. Hey, a gay couple moved in on Wisteria Lane so maybe soon one will move to my neighborhood.

3) I haven't read this book yet but it was recommended by one of my favorite financial columnists in The Washington Post,Michelle Singletary.

4) I defy you to find a better Engrish sign than this.

Wow--long time no post here. Every time I have something worthy of saying I never get a chance to post it then it's forgotten.

Remember my sport parents rant? I never really thought twice about it, other than to make a mental note to watch what I spout off about when I think I'm just posting a comment on a website. Last weekend some friends came over and the wife mentioned how my letter had caused quite a stir, prompting OBGC (the local sports club) to solicit feedback from other parents. I went to The Gazette website and did a search for "OBGC" and found the letter from the executive director of OBGC responding to "an email from Maggie McGary," as well as an "open forum" for parents to react to my view of OBGC games.

I swear--who knew when you speak up about something people get so fired up? Here I am, thinking I'm just typing away into cyberspace; meanwhile the parents in Olney are probably plotting ways to extricate me from the community. Hopefully my status as Mrs. Olney (ok, by association if not by actual skill--and yes you have to have mad skills to be crowned Mr. or Mrs. Olney) will protect me from the angry masses.

Naturally I had to respond; I'll be interested to see if they run it in this week's edition.

Anyway, that's about it as far as life in the big city goes these days.

JC Penny circa 1977

I will actually write something one of these days but this is so hilarious that it would trump anything I have to say.

This ran in The Montgomery County Gazette, a local newspaper, yesterday.

I submitted this to the Post but it never ran...may as well dust it off and use it here.

Babysitters. Nannies. Childcare providers. Or, if you’re lucky, grandma. Whatever term any of us chooses to use, one thing is certain: without them, the issue of work/family balance would be dead in the water. An understanding boss, the ability to telecommute, a flexible schedule—for most of us, no matter how ideal an arrangement we have, we are, at least to some degree, dependant on some form of childcare if we’re going to be able to be working parents. Even for those who don’t work outside the home, a reliable babysitter is worth his or her weight in gold.

This issue recently reared its head at girls’ night at a friend’s house. Even though it was Friday night and the sangria was flowing, somehow the conversation steered to babysitters. A woman I’d never met before mentioned, in passing, her babysitter, whose name I recognized. I said that I have a babysitter with the same name—let’s call her Mandy--and wondered if it was the same girl. Suddenly the light-hearted conversation screeched to a halt and she glared at me in sudden recognition and said, in so many words, “You’re the Maggie who stole my babysitter!”

Super long story short: this woman, who I’ll call woman #1, had started using Mandy when she was 14 and has been using her regularly for over 5 years. Woman #2, a friend of mine, had met Mandy when she picked up her son from woman #1’s house and asked Mandy whether she’d be willing to sit for her sometimes. They worked out a schedule and now Mandy was working for woman #1 and woman #2, as well as occasionally for woman #3, the hostess of this Friday night gathering. Last spring woman #2 recommended the girl to me and I, too, started using her sporadically.

At any rate, there was woman #1, suddenly lecturing me about how Mandy is a college student and is now so overworked because woman #2 “and others” are taking advantage of her, and also how now “her” sitter is never available because she’s spread so thin. She went on to say that when a family initially finds a babysitter who turns out to be reliable and good, that babysitter “belongs” to that family and other families are not allowed to “steal” him or her.

The whole thing half amused me and half disturbed me. I hadn’t realized there was apparently such a feeling of ownership when it came to babysitters. I couldn’t help but think “slavery”; in fact, I was curious about the parallel and Googled “stealing a slave from owner.”

In 1732, Virginia enacted a law stating that “wicked and evil-disposed persons…who steal any…slave …from the possession of the owner or overseer of such slave…shall suffer death without penalty of clergy.” Yikes. By 1732, the laws were a little more lax; a statute of Tennesee’s Laws on Slavery stipulated that any person found guilty [of] tempting an enslaved [person] to leave his owner's service… was to pay a fine of $62.50.” Ok, $62.50 or death—you choose; the fact is that those laws were applicable back when slavery was legal and accepted; these days it is neither.

Slave, babysitter—the fact that this woman kept referring to Mandy as “hers” made it clear that—at least in her case, but I suspect others feel the same--there is a sense of ownership when it comes to long-term, reliable caregivers. What do you think—is a childcare provider so necessary to the balance in your life that the idea of someone “stealing” him or her makes you indignant?

Soccer Rage

I just came from my daughter's soccer game--the championships. I sheepishly admit that soccer is generally her dad's territory; I take her to practices but usually skip the games. Yeah, bad mom--whatever. Going to this game made me remember why I never go.

So it's a beautiful, sunny fall day and the 6th grade girls are playing the last game of the season. Big soccer complex--the hub of the suburban community I live in--parents on the sidelines, girls presumably excited--as my friend Temperance would say, life in the big city. I guess this is the thing all the soccer parents live for, what makes the ridiculous amount of driving to endless activities and practices worth it.

I should have known it was a bad omen when, at the start of the game, my friend, the mom of one of Mimi's friends, sat down beside me and, when I turned to her and said "Hey--what's up," she stared intently at the field, skipped a beat, then said "Look, I'm not even going to make any bones about it--I'm not talking right now, I'm watching the game." Yikes.

The game started. I tried to be interested but frankly, watching soccer, to me, is like watching a movie with Japanese subtitles and trying to understand what's going on. I just don't get it. I suppose if my kids were more into it I would be too, but neither of them are into it in the slightest; their dad thinks it's a good idea for them to play a team sport so there they are, standing on the field, staring into space or, in Matthew's case at one game, doing handstands on the field throughout the whole thing. Each season I mean to put my foot down and say that we're not doing soccer because the kids don't even like it and it's a pain in the ass to get to all the practices and games, but I always end up relenting to keep the peace.

Anyway, fast forward--the game's going on and I'm still reeling from my friend's brush off and contemplating what it means about me as a mom that I couldn't care less about watching my kids' soccer games and I realize there's quite a stir going on around me. I could hear out of the corner of my ear the other parents shouting but had managed to tune it out, but as the game went on, I realized the shouts were not actually cheers but vein-popping screams.

"GODDAMNIT! STOP BEING STUPID AND PAY ATTENTION!!!!"

WTF? This from a dad a few seats away from me with a road-rage look on his face. He continued, veins bulging on his forehead, "TAYLOR, GET IN THERE!!!" "TAYLOR, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? LOOK ALIVE!" Then his sidekick, presumably the girl's mother, echoed everything he yelled in an equally agressive tone. (Somehow it was easier to understand from the dad--he looked like he was probably a football star back in his day; the mom looked and sounded like one of Marj Simpson's sisters and would have probably died of a coronary if she so much as ran down the field herself.)

I swear, if I had balls they would have crawled up into my abdominal cavity--that's how alarming these people's horrible, abusive "cheers" were. Meanwhile, the rest of the parents were all yelling at the ref because they thought all her calls were wrong; god forbid anyone actually be paying attention to the kids and the game. The coach even had to come over to address the parents, asking them to please go easy on the ref, she's just a kid, she's doing her best, etc.

In all my years as a parent (11 and a half) I have never seen any supposedly kid-centric activity turn into the agressive free-for-all that was this game. The whole thing had absolutely nothing to do with the kids or the sport--the actual game took a backseat to the parents' sideline antics. I felt horrified for poor Taylor--whose parents did eventually cheer for her when she kicked the ball into another girl's face: "YEAH--WAY TO GO TAYLOR--GET AGGRESSIVE!!!" and I felt sick that Mimi and the rest of the kids had to listen to the never-ending onslaught of parental yelling and screaming.

After the "GET AGGRESSIVE!!" comment I couldnt' take it anymore; I packed Matthew up and we left (daddy was still there). Maybe it makes me a terrible mom to walk out on my kid's game but I just couldn't help it; I couldn't take sitting two chairs down from these assholes screaming at their kid, or watching the other parents rip the 16 year old girl ref for every other call.

To me, this whole experience is evidence of what happens to parents when they become totally wrapped up in their kids' lives to the point that their kids are pratically their sole focus in life. Maybe that's a leap but honestly, how else do you explain the outright aggression these parents show? This was far from love of the game, standard issue competetiveness; this was just anger and hatred. These parents were not cheering their kids on--it seemed to me they had showed up primed to fight. How are they going to teach their kids sportsmanship when they are busy moving their chairs on the sidelines because they "can't take sitting next to the green team parents" and harassing the officials?

Interestingly, last night I took Matthew to his hockey game (check me out; two sports things in one weekend. Mother of the Year award here I come!) and there was a big sign on the wall outside the rink. I only noticed it when we were leaving and didn't stop to read the whole thing, but it said something about a zero-tolerance policy and that the game would be stopped if a parent was disruptive. That is exactly what they need to have for soccer. However, can you imagine being the one to have to tell bruiser dad that he and his kid were OUT of there? The guy would probably go postal on the kids and the parents at best, and at worst would probably take his rage out on the daughter.

Blogished

From today's Washingtonpost.com OnBalance blog....

Fashion Bullies?

Last week the Wall Street Journal ran this article about "fashion bullies" in middle and high schools who berate other kids for not wearing the "right" clothes. The saddest part of the article to me is not the bullying aspect but the mom featured in the article--the one who drags her sixth grader to Neiman Marcus to pick out couture clothes, which then don't pass muster with her peers because they're not the "right" designer clothes. Are you kidding me?

To me, far more alarming than the bullying is the idea that parents are actually willing to buy couture clothes for kids--which designers are "right" or "wrong" is irrelevant. It's bad enough when one of my kids comes home with a stain on their clothes from Target or the consignment store; I'd have to slit my wrists if the shirt or pair of pants had cost $150.

Meanwhile, every other day you read about the housing crisis and how droves of people are having to foreclose on their houses, or how the average American has something like $10,000 of credit card debt. Why are parents--at least some of whom fall into the group who are carrying $10,000 (and many times, well beyond that) willing to "shop their families broke"?

How about instead of (or at least in addition to) programs that teach girls to navigate peer pressure to dress a certain way or be a certain size, someone offer programs to teach girls about money and how trying to "keep up with the Joneses" can seriously ruin your life? Someone other than Suze Orman, that is, who schools could actually afford to hire as a speaker.

Just reading about this couple would be enough to scare me straight!

Up front, let me give the disclaimer that I have friends who have these kinds of email addresses and I'm not trying to pass judgement or condescend to anyone. I just don't get it; maybe someone can help me understand that I'm off base on this if they feel I am.

That said, what's with women whose email address is "thejonses@whatever.com" or, worse, "myhusbandsname@whatever.com"?

It's not like email costs anything or is troublesome to set up--anyone can have multiple, free email addresses. I don't understand why a person would have a shared email address with their spouse and not just set up their own account. Is it a trust thing? An "aren't we cute?" thing? An "everything we have is ours together" thing?

I just don't get it--to me it's saying I'm just part of a couple or I'm just part of a family and not an individual. Isn't it a little self-deprecating? It seems so 50s to me--"oh, I don't deserve my own email address and honestly, I don't really get how this new-fangled internet mail works anyway, so I just leave it to my husband to deal with."

I don't know--it just makes me sad. I know couples who have the "myinitialandhisinitialsmiths@whateverland.com" address, conveying the message "we're so close we share everything and have no secrets," yet several of those very same couples have broken up because one of them cheated. And the "thesmiths@perfectfamily.com" just strikes me as incredibly sad; more often than not the women who have that email address are stay-home moms and to me it says that they've totally subjugated themselves to their husbands and kids and no longer see themselves as people who are worthy of their own personal experiences.

It reminds me of the address labels with the cartoon pictures of each family member, looking smug and perfect. Yes, the same labels I used to have when I was trying my best to play happy family.

I mean, is it a permission thing, as in the husband tells the wife she can't have her own account? Does he even check it, or does the woman just set it up that way? Would a woman have her friends address paper mail to "my friend and your husband" and intend for the letter or card to be read by both? I don't even mean in a secrecy way, just a friendship way and an interpersonal relationship way. Do my emails to Susie So-and-So need to be written as if I'm addressing both she and her husband, or the whole family?

Anyway, I just don't get it--it depresses me.

Slim Jim follow up

Really quick before Mimi kills me with her whining to leave the house--last weekend I went to the American Dietetic Association's annual meeting's exhibit hall with Patrick and ConAgra, maker of Slim Jim, had a booth. I asked several of the people staffing their booth my question about Slim Jim and why it's the only product not complying with FDA labelling requirements and none of them had an answer. They took my email address and assured me someone would contact me to let me know what the answer is.

Of course the email address I gave was my hotmail address because my gmail address is too long and complicated, and as of yesterday when I was finally able to get into my inbox for once, I had not heard from anyone yet. Of course now I can't get into hotmail at all and who knows when I'll be able to--but then again, even if I can get in, I wonder what the chances are that anyone would actually contact me.

When/if they do I'll let you know what they say.

Hotmail Sucks

For a few months now I've noticed that hotmail is getting harder and harder to log on to. Have any of you (since there are only like 2 of you reading this can you do me a favor and ask around?) had the same problems? It's driving me crazy because I hate paper mail and whenever possible opt for online statements or bills and 75% of the time now just can't get in to hotmail and therefore can't access the information in there--of course my regular emails, but also bills and, more importantly, the archive of whatever stuff I have in there--various account information like password info, login info, etc.

What responsiblity does hotmail or other free email service have to users? Or actually any email service, free or not. We never question whether or not bills or information sent by US mail will arrive--it's a given that anything sent via the USPS will reach the recipient. But now that almost every single service provider--banks, credit card companies, utilities-- who used to rely on US mail now encourages paperless communication, which is entirely dependant on email; isn't the assumption that email providers have some similar obligation to their customers to ensure that information gets delivered?

For hotmail, one of the most reputable email services, to suddenly not be working 75% of the time--how is that acceptable?

I conducted what Patrick calls "fuck-it-off" research on the subject--e.g. googled "problems accessing hotmail" and clicked on the first link and took that information as the gospel truth). Here's what I found:

Ask Leo. Apparently Leo is a computer guru who joined Microsoft in 1983 and therefore should be as reliable a source of information as any on this topic.

The problem with Leo's advice (and it's not Leo's fault; he is merely illustrating exactly what I'm complaining about) is that unfortunately contacting MSN requires you to log on to hotmail--which is exactly what the problem is--that I CAN'T log on.

I then went to MSN and used their form to contact hotmail customer support--I filled in the form and clicked "send"--and got a page saying "Sorry the page you requested is not available."

WTF? So apparently there is no way to contact hotmail customer support--no phone number, as Leo pointed out (unless Leo is wrong; I'm going under the assumption that he's not), no way to log on to the site since www.hotmail.com won't even come up when I try to go to it, and no way to get into my inbox.

If Mimi weren't sitting here waiting for me to take her somewhere I'd look into it more--I'm sure there is some sort of regulating body (or maybe not?) in charge of making sure email providers make subscribers' email accessible. If any of you have any advice/answers about this issue let me know.

Badge Magic

This year Matthew moved up from Bear Cub to Webelo (pronounced "we blow"; Patrick found the irony of that name as it relates to cub scouts quite amusing).

For the past three years his Cub Scout uniform included a dark blue shirt covered with badges. This year he came home with a new tan shirt and informed me that I needed to take all the badges off the old shirt and sew them on the new shirt, along with several new ones. The easy part was removing the badges from the old shirt--Matthew was amazed at my domesticity as I ripped the stitches out. He is very appreciative of any June Cleaver thing I do and praises me highly for the slightest thing, such as removing badges from a shirt.

As soon as I removed the badges he started hounding me about when I was going to sew them on the new shirt. I told him I had to buy a sewing kit then I'd sew them.

That night I went to a Cabi party at a friend's house (suddenly I have a weirdly suburban mom social life, complete with a dozen or more new friends....I'm not sure what caused this sudden popularity after 11 years of never being invited to stuff like Bunko or girls night or whatever. I guess my new status of divorced then remarried to a hot man who cooks, cleans, landscapes his yard and adores me has some kind of mysterious allure) (Oh, and Cabi is an outrageously expensive line of clothing available only at home shows, the apparent cornerstone of suburban mom socialization. But who am I to cut because there I was with a glass of Sangria in one hand and my checkbook in the other?) and was talking to another mom and mentioned something about the imminent badge sewing.

She looked at me like I was crazy--"haven't you heard of Badge Magic?" Was she kidding? No I hadn't heard of Badge Magic--could it be that such a thing existed? Why hadn't I invented it? She went on and on, saying NOBODY sews badges on anymore--then another girl chimed in--"Sew badges? Are you crazy?" The whole gathering launched into a collective sales pitch about the wonders of Badge Magic and how now way can you even sew on those badges without butchering your fingers.

The next day I said to Matthew "Guess what? They sell this stuff called Badge Magic so I won't have to sew all the badges on!" He looked crestfallen and said that Badge Magic doesn't work, that the badges fall off after one time, that it's terrible, I CAN'T use it. But all the moms use it, I insisted, telling him about my conversation the previous night. No, he insisted--it didn't work, all those moms were wrong, you HAVE to sew the badges on.

So I bought the sewing kit and spent an hour last night sewing two of the badges on. My finger was raw and I had to stop after just those two--I still have four more to go. But Matthew was so excited, exclaiming about how I was the best mom in the world, what a great sewer I am, how I had sewn the badges in exactly the right spots.

I guess Badge Magic is for moms who don't have divorce guilt; I need to invest in a thimble.

Slim Jim

Can anyone tell me why Slim Jim is the only consumable product in the whole country--or even outside it--that doesn't have to include nutritional content information on the wrapper? Not only that but I defy you to find out the nutritional content on their website.

I did manage to find the nutritional information on the web via a blogger on lowcarbfreedom.com who was ranting about not being able to find it either.

You'd think the makers of Slim Jim would want to market to all the low-carb enthusiasts out there. Low calories, only like 1 carb--even sort of low fat. Weirdly it has 0g fiber, which I find odd since when you eat it you'd swear one of the main ingredients has to be paper because you can feel those little fibers in your mouth.

I just don't understand why any other thing even remotely considered to be digestible--gum, tic-tacs, even toothpaste--has its nutritional content information somehow printed on the label, no matter how impossibly small it may be, yet the makers of Slim Jim have apparently opted out of complying with the law that says you have to include that stuff on the label. I just don't get it--wouldn't you think that the FDA would force them to start labeling it? And take it off the market until they complied?

thirtysomething--is that you?

In the trailers, HBO's new show Tell Me You Love Me looked--at least to me--like a modernized remake of the awesome mid-80s show, thirtysomething. I loved that show and couldn't wait to see this new apparent rip-off of the classic yuppie sitcom.

Last Sunday, the night it premiered, I tried to get the kids to bed before 9 but ended up missing the first 15 minutes. I sat down at 9:15 and turned the TV on. There, on Patrick's 53" TV, was a girl shimmying out of her jeans, revealing more than a glimpse of her...uh, landing strip.

Huh? I checked the channel to see how I managed to set the DVR for some porn channel, but it was tuned to HBO and to the correct show. Surprised, I kept watching... and there went her shirt, then the guys pants then--yikes--a full view of the guy's balls.

WTF? Where was thirtysomething? Ok, then it cut to the next scene--I think it was a couple in a therapists office talking their struggles with infertility. Ok, that's more like it, I thought. Then they're sitting at the dinner table at the guy's parents house and they both get up and go into another room to laugh and bond over how horrible the mother-in-law is...and next thing you know, there's another patch of pubic hair and a boob and the guy's actual dick!

Maybe I'm remembering the sequence wrong, but what I do remember from that episode are: at least two scenes featuring girls' naked crotches, at least two sightings of a pretty realistic simulation of penetration, a few sets of balls, and, if I'm not mistaken, a guy actually ejaculating. Oh, and I forgot--a blow job and/or a hand job and a guy jerking off. And woven in between the sex scenes, a distinctly thirtysomething-ish storyline.

All in all, the show is good and the characters are interesting and likable, but what's up with the very gratuitous--and frequent--sex scenes? Don't get me wrong--I'm going to keep watching it--but I could do with less pubic hair and ball sightings and more thirtysomething-ish coffee talk scenes.

So I check my email this morning and in the "subject" column is this:

Augusten's Assistant

Had Augusten been obsessing over me since I emailed him and was now having his assistant email me to tell me he just HAD to meet me? Or was it someone who reads this blog writing to tell me something about Augusten's assistant?

This was the email:

Hi lovely folks,

It's Stewart, Augusten's assistant, and I wanted to (humbly) let you know about my debut novel that was recently published, ROCKSTARLET. It's a dishy, hollywood tale about a closeted rockstar, and based on your emails, I've chosen the people i think would enjoy...

How psyched am I that I am apparently in Augusten's assistant's address book? (or then again, it could be because I'm on the mailing list for Augusten's website? Surely not--remember my email conversation with him a few weeks ago?)

So skip the books I recommended yesterday and go buy this and we will discuss.

Wah!

Can you tell my husband (of all of 3 weeks) is out of the country by how much I'm posting? It sucks!

This cheered me up slightly. As did this.

Apologies to Augusten, who is still my soulmate, but there is actually one person I am more obsessed with than him: this guy. Sadly, I don't know his name--is it Maddox? All I know is that I swear to god his site is the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life. Is it just me or are "Crappy child's art" #1 and #2 legendary for their humor value? I can still remember the first time I saw those pages and how I laughed harder than I ever laughed in my life--and that was at least 5 years ago and I still laugh just as hard every time I see them.

Anyway, I defy you to go to read this and not choke half to death from laughing so hard.

Documentaries

I don't know why but I'm a big fan of documentaries. I am beyond ignorant when it comes to anything related to politics, history, geography or economics, but for whatever reason I am all about documentaries about politics or economics (not so much history or geography...).

A few months ago I raved about Sicko and have since been up in arms about the health insurance system. It's the kind of thing I can't really think about too much because it just makes me so mad it ends up depressing me because it's such a lost cause--I don't even waste time trying to dispute the fact that my health insurance inexplicably denied payment for the exact same routine doctor visit that they have faithfully covered the other three times I've gone. After seeing that movie it just seems futile to waste time trying to plead my case--all to get them to count the full $120 out-of-pocket towards my $500 out-of-pocket per year limit. Even though it costs $120 out of my pocket, somehow they only will count $53 as my out-of-pocket expense. So I'm paying $100 a month to have the luxury of being able to go to "out of network" doctors--a privilege almost non-existent in these days of managed healthcare--yet before they will cover any of these out of network doctor visits I have to shell out an additional $500 per calendar year. Except now it turns out that the $500 limit isn't what actually comes out of my pocket; it's what they THINK should be coming out of my pocket. So even though I'm out $120, they only count it as $53. So basically, the $500 out of pocket limit becomes $1,200 a year for the insurance premium, then $500 THEN another who knows how much--at least double that--in out of pocket expenses that they consider to be outrageous or whatever.

So, as it's turning out, I can go on the much cheaper (half the cost per month) HMO insurance which covers the same as my current plan except no out of network benefits, and just pay the visits myself as I'm already doing, and I'd come out $50 richer every month. Anyway, I digress....I hadn't really thought of it that way until just now.

ANYWAY...back to today's documentary: Maxed Out. It's about the whole credit card debt crisis in this country. For some inexplicable reason I am fixated on the whole subject of debt and American excess. Don't ask me why because, as I said, I know nothing about economics or business; the main thing I know about money is how to spend (hence, I guess, the quest to keep my finances in line with horror stories of others' financial ruin). At any rate (no pun intended!), any news item, book or movie about anything having to do with crazy debt intrigues me.

Since I went off on that health insurance tangent I have now lost my train of thought about Maxed Out, but maybe that fact says it all about this movie: it wasn't that memorable. It was ok and I'm a big fan of Elizabeth Warren, a Harvard law professor who writes about financial issues. Actually, I am only a fan in principal, seeing as I have yet to actually read one of her books, although I have read excerpts from them in other favorite books like The Feminine Mistake by Leslie Bennetts. (like I said, I have for some reason become totally fixated on the subject of money, especially as it pertains to women and, in particular, women with children.)

ANYWAY, I clearly can't keep a straight train of thought here but I would say yes, you should see Maxed Out then read The Feminine Mistake and all of Elizabeth Warren's books, then we can discuss.

AugustenB

How psyched was I to open my gmail inbox and see an email from "AugustenB"?! I had emailed my new obsession, Augusten Burroughs, to tell him how great I think he is and also to ask him how he deals with the inevitable criticism that is inherent in any writer's line of work, let alone a memoirist's. I asked if he ever used to worry about it and, if so, how he overcame it. I never expected to hear back from him--although of course my fantasy was that he would read my email and realize we are psychic twins separated at birth and we would become best friends. The same fantasy I used to have about Oprah until I met her and realized we were not actually soulmates.

So I open my inbox the other day and gasped when I saw "AugustenB" in the "From" column. My fantasy had come true and Augusten had actually written me back! Ok, so the email was actually from his assistant, but still, isn't an email from Augusten's personal assistant almost as good as an email from Augusten himself? Here is what is said:

maggie-
first off, thanks for writing. i know augusten appreciates it.
i can't speak directly for him, but i do know that you can NEVER be a memoirist if you care what people think! augusten had a NEED to write about his life, and if he worried about what people were going to think, the writing would be stifled, and probably a lot less successful.
hope this helps and that you possibly get to meet augusten next year when he tours with his new book.
cheers,
stewart (augusten's assistant)

I love it how he says that Augusten had a NEED to write about his life and couldn't be bothered with what people might say about him or his writing. That is exactly why I am obsessed with him--first of all, because it is very evident in his writing that he had a "need" to write it and that need is what makes him such a magnificent writer. Secondly, I am obsessed with him because I love it that he doesn't give a shit what anyone thinks about him, his life, his writing, etc--in spite of any negatives he is the one who, in the end, is a NYT best-selling author, sought-after speaker at various ivy-league colleges and just an overall genius and cultural icon. He is the embodiment of my life philosophy; namely, just wish for something hard enough and it will come true and no need to conform to "requirements" like advanced degrees or abiding by sociatal norms about what's ok to talk about and what's not.

Anyway, you can bet your ASS I will be meeting him next year when he tours with his new book.

Well that was fun yesterday—the first non-business thing I’ve ever had “published.” Or at least since college and a letter to the editor of Allure once. I don’t know how people who have real blogs like Leslie Morgan Steiner think of stuff to write about every day. I am trying to get used to writing in here more and it’s a struggle to think of what to write about—and nobody’s even reading this. To have hundreds (thousands?) of people reading my blog every day—I think I’d be a nervous wreck at all times worrying that I wouldn’t have anything to say/write about.

So last night I was skimming through all the comments on my post, marveling that so many people had read it and that it had spurred such conversation. I am not vain enough to think that my post was so special that it magically drew all those readers and inspired them to spar with each other; I know those same people read every day’s entry and then have cyber conversations via the comments section. But at any rate, it was interesting and gratifying to read the comments, especially the compliments about my writing.

I was caught off guard when, in the midst of all the serious comments—people sharing their own experiences with divorce, talking about that book, The Unexpected Legacy of Divorce (which, incidentally, was one of the books I was talking about when I said I’d poured over countless books...that particular book was one that made me keep trying to make it work for as long as I did), and generally talking amongst themselves…someone suddenly said “Not for nothing but Maggie’s kind of hot.” WTF? I sure hadn’t expected that one…but of course the preener in me was flattered. They went on to say I looked like a former cheerleader—which I suppose was supposed to have been an insult but I took as a compliment, never having been anything close to a cheerleader. Ever. The closest I ever came was trying out for Pom-Poms in 7th grade at the urging of an outgoing friend—I was painfully self-conscious and probably looked at the floor the whole time, beet-red, while I messed up the moves to Earth, Wind and Fire’s “Do you Remember?” (are you impressed that I remember what song it was?!). I remember them telling us that we couldn’t wear makeup and being horrified because, at the age of 12, I was still constantly mistaken for a boy and, as a result, wore as much makeup as a 12 year-old could get away with.

At any rate, it was sort of jarring to have the comments about my blog post turn, momentarily, to what I looked like. I guess the feminist and intellectual in me was supposed to be totally offended and outraged--here I am, my big moment in the sun, my writing skills being showcased in however minor a way, and people start talking about how I look? Of course I mostly do feel like that....but then the other, dumb-(bottle) blonde in me is like "hey now!" and batting my eyelashes about the comments.

It was funny, though--and look--it gave me something to write about.

Wow--who knew that there was so much pent up (or maybe not pent up? Maybe these people go through life, hands clenched and jaw muscles coiled, just waiting for the next idiot to speak up so they can start the verbal attack?) rage out there! I didn't realize my piece for Washingtonpost.com was a hunk of meat being thrown to an angry mob poised to rip me personally. Um, I don't recall, in the piece, asking whether or not people thought I did the right thing--I was not looking for sympathy or confirmation that I did the right thing by leaving. I was throwing out the question is a mom who stays for the kids a better mom.

Regardless--I guess I shouldn't be surprised--just drive around town for a day and enjoy these same people behind the wheel in their cars. If reading a blog entry about some anonymous woman's divorce sets them off so much, just imagine how tolerant they are of the slow car in front of them or the person who refuses to crash a light.

I personally can barely string together thoughts, let alone words, this early in the morning.

Yoo hoo--if anyone is reading this, please consider donating to Kicking for Kids Who Can't--a fundraiser for the Limbs for Life Foundation.

How many of us take for granted the fact that our kids can run and swim and climb? I know I'm definitely guilty of this, and feel it's the least I can do to support a cause that helps kids who aren't as fortunate as mine.

Click here to donate

Now back to our regularly scheduled program...

Aw! How cute are we? ;)

I so need to move to Japan.

Conversation with a "neighbor" this morning. (I have lived in my townhouse for about a year and maybe spoken to this woman five times this year, the first time being when I moved in and told her I was recently divorced.)

She was on the sidewalk with her little boy, who was riding his bike. She lives three townhouses over from me. I had just pulled up in front of my house and gotten out of my car. We greeted each other and made small talk for a minute then I told her I am getting married and am in the process of moving out.

Her (look of shock and horror on her face): Wow, didn't you just get divorced
not even a year ago?

Me: Well, yes, but we were separated for a long
time before that.

Her: But still, I mean, you didn't even live here a
year. Wow, that's really fast.

Me (shrugging because I have no real
answer to rude comments from virtual strangers): Yeah, well, that's just life I
guess. So I'm moving out.

Her: When is the wedding?

Me: Tuesday.
We're going to Vegas.

Her (eyes widening more and look of disgust on her
face intensifying): Oh my god--wow--that's fast! Well, I mean it is your SECOND
wedding anyway. (referring to Vegas).

Me: Yep, that's right, we didn't
want to have a big wedding or anything. We were originally going to have a
wedding with just family.....(then I proceeded with my defensive/apologetic
ramble about how we were going to have a wedding, then blah, blah, blah we ended
up deciding to just go to Vegas. I somehow feel the need to go into expansive
detail when anyone asks, regardless of my relationship with that person.)

Her: Yeah, I guess so, since it's your second wedding and all. But of
course your kids are coming and your daughter is going to be the flower girl,
right?

Me: Oh yeah, of course! (in actuality my kids will be on vacation
with their dad and not at the wedding at all. We made this decision after lots
of conversation, consultation with shrink, etc.....there I go with the
defensiveness again.)

Her: Well, congratulations, I guess!

I think this was the most uncomfortable, most intrusive and rude response I've gotten so far, but many others aren't too far off this mark. Apparently everyone is an expert not only in my life over the past 15 years and every detail of my former marriage, but also my kid's emotional states, thought processes and overall mental health and well-being. And from this information they are, of course, more qualified than I am to decide what's best for me, my kids, and the course of my life.

What is wrong with people that they feel absolutely no shame or hesitation about expressing their opinions on my personal life? I mean, I know gossip is gossip and I don't really care what is said about me behind my back, but to look me in the eye and chastise me as if each one of them is a better parent and better person than I am, and of course better qualified to make decisions about my life--what's up with that? Is it because I open myself up to their criticism by trying to defend my decisions?

Well, anyway, we'll be sure to drink a toast to all the haters. Here's to your perfect lives and perfect parenting--and the lessons of tolerance and acceptance you're teaching your kids.

I've been hunting for the .wav file of Long Duck Dong in Sixteen Candles saying "We getting MALLIED" but am striking out. So, assuming you've seen the movie and know what I'm talking about, say it in your mind as you read this: We getting mallied!

Yes, I am getting married on Tuesday. For the second time, in case you don't already know that. We're going to Vegas, just the two of us, and getting married in our hotel room. I am so excited--for whatever reason, the concept of getting married in our room just seems very cool to me....and of course mostly excited because as of this time next week I will be married to the person I still can't believe I was lucky enough to find in this lifetime.

I was about to say the person I wish I had married the first time, but that's not entirely what I mean. Of course I do wish I had met Patrick years and years ago and that we could have had kids together, but then again, maybe part of what makes us so perfect together and makes me treasure what we have was my first--bad, wrong and broken--marriage.

At any rate, here's to finding true love and happiness and being lucky enough to experience both. Don't ever let anyone tell you that it doesn't exist or that you shouldn't even bother looking--they're wrong.

Sorry for the trend of posts starting with "I just (insert "read" or "saw") some book or movie--or maybe it was just a trend of one post? At any rate, this blog has become my official book group/coffee date with a human friend/interactive format of any sort because, frankly....well, the only topics of discussion with IRL friends (congratulate yourself if you don't know that term because it means you haven't spent the last 10+ years having cyber friends as your main peer group) are various and sundry bits of gossip. Actually lately the gossip has been quite entertaining and unbelievably tawdry for the burbs, but I digress.

At any rate, I just read Augusten Burroughs Possible Side Effects and am utterly captivated by him. I highly, HIGHLY recommend this book--I personally am totally obsessed with Augusten Burroughs.

Anyway, I recommend everyone immediately read all of Augusten Burroughs books--I'm going to--and "we" (I think that means basically me and Cassie) can have our own book club. I read Running with Scissors a long time ago but am now going to re-read and see the movie. I am just in awe of him--his writing style, his outlook on life, the fact that he shares my same life philosophy--namely, sit back and just wait for success to find you and it will. Well, it did for him, at least.

One of my favorite essays in the book is about him being asked to speak at different ivy-league schools despite the fact that he doesn't have so much as a high-school education himself. I LOVE that he managed to bypass one of the assumed requirements for success in this world, especially in any creative or in any way scholarly field--an advanced degree. I myself vowed after college never to set foot in another classroom and like to think that it won't hold me back in any way-- and his book gives me hope.

Anyway, how's that for a forced 7 am ramble, now that I've vowed to carve out time to write so I can become the next,--female--Augusten Burroughs?

So please go enjoy this book and let me know what you think (addressing my non-existent book club members)!

I just saw Sicko and I swear to god, if I didn't have kids and a fiancee, I'd be packing a bag and moving to France or London right now. Ok, let me backpedal and preface this by saying that a) I am the most lenient movie critic around and am notorious for giving rave reviews for basically every movie I see and b) I am completely gullible when it comes to Michael Moore and basically don't question anything he says.

I'm usually not one for buying into propaganda, or what I believe to be propaganda, but I have to say that I totally buy everything he brings to light in this movie. I am just dumbfounded and, frankly, depressed, that we can live in the purported best, wealthiest country in the world yet the healthcare system is so horrific.

If you haven't seen the movie, you need to, but in the meantime allow me to summarize and put my own spin on it for you. ;)

The movie starts off with the horror stories of dozens of different people--from a couple who have to sell their house and move into their daughter's computer room because they were bankrupted by medical co-pays, to a woman who worked in the same hospital that denied her husband's life-saving bone marrow transplant because it was deemed "experimental" so he died, to the mom of an 18 month-old little girl who was brought to the hospital with a fever of 104 but denied treatment because the hospital wasn't a Kaiser facility and by the time the mom got her to the approved hospital the girl went into cardiac arrest and died, to volunteer 9/11 rescue workers whose lives have been ruined by the health problems caused by their heroism sifting through the rubble and helping save lives at ground zero.

As if that stuff isn't bad enough--and doesn't make you feel like it's just a matter of time until we all get cancer or something that ultimately won't be covered by health insurance and end up in the same position as the people in the movie--he then takes you on a tour of other countries' health systems: Canada, London, France and Cuba. I'm sure there is another side to the coin, but what he portrays just makes you feel like you're living in a dream--a very bad dream.

There are horror stories of "rich Americans" who are paying top dollar or whose employers are paying top dollar for health coverage who sill have to fight tooth and nail just to get routine medical care--and that's paying through the nose for it. Then he takes you to Canada where these very rational, nice Canadians all talk about how pleasant and effective--and absolutely free--their healthcare system is, then to London for more of the same, then on to the kicker, France.

When he gets to France it's like the grand finale of a fireworks display: he suddenly just bombarding us with how great France is in every way and how, by contrast, America sucks all the worse. My favorite scene is where he's in a restaurant with a bunch of American expats and they just start listing all the ways France kicks ass. Healthcare is free--and great: one French guy lives in America his entire adult life but then gets cancer so goes back to France for (free) treatment, then once he's cured, his doctor gives him a 3 month pass to "rest" so he can get his strength back, which he does in the South of France while being paid 100% of his salary (65% by the government and 35% by his employer). Then they start the litany of other unbelievably-good things in France: a legally-mandated minimum of five weeks of leave per yer--and that's not including unlimited sick time, an extra week for your honeymoon if you get married, and a day off if you have to move--the unheard of by American standards maternity leave, free childcare, free colleges....oh, and free babysitters that will come to your house and take care of your baby and even do your laundry! WTF?

I could go on but I'll save some surprises for when you go see it yourself; suffice it to say that even though I have never so much as set a toe outside this country (except to Canada when I was a young kid so I don't count that) and am the least worldly person I know, it made me want to pack a bag and get on the next flight to Paris. It made me wonder why I'm even living in this country of greedy morons, this country where we have access to the most expensive, sophisticated medical equipment and drugs in the world, yet the only thing that matters is making a buck. You watch this movie where he talks to people at hospitals in England and France and even Cuba and see how money doesn't even enter into the equation--it's like every other country is some kind of fairyland where there are these beautiful, clean hospitals where nobody has to wait more than a few minutes and everyone gets top-notch FREE healthcare. Meanwhile, back in the good ol' U S of A Kaiser is sticking sick old ladies into cabs with a voucher for a one-way fare to skid row and our "Heroes" can't even get tested for--let alone treated for--illness sustained when they were willingly sacrificing their lungs at ground zero for the love of their country.

What's the catch? And will things here ever change or is the grim reality he exposes just a fact of life here in the land of the free and the home of the brave?

Photobucket Album

Finally figured out how to post pictures! This is a hodgepodge of Patrick and my trip to San Diego (where we got engaged!) and a few of the kids from March 2007.

Not that this will do an ounce of good, but I finally wrote a letter to McDonalds voicing my, to put it mildly, dismay about the fact that it is nearly impossible to walk into a McDonalds and place an order then actually receive what I order. I know this might come across like I'm some redneck bigot who wants an Aryan nation or something, and I don't mean it that way. But at what point is there a limit to how far cultural diversity goes when it comes to language? Is it really appropriate that I should have to learn how to say "I only want chicken, lettuce and cheese" in Spanish to get a chicken snack wrap with no sauce? (and yes, this is true...I did learn this because I was unwilling to give up my beloved snack wrap)?

Yes, I could give up fast food to try to get around the problem but that wouldn't really solve the larger issue. Why is it that our standards are apparently so low that someone who doesn't speak a word of English can be employed and making, in theory at least, a living wage? How many non-fast food workers would be allowed to show up to work and not be able to do their jobs at all because of the language barrier, yet still keep the job? Or, for that matter, could I move to Paris and get a job in a boulangerie while operating at about a 7th grade level as far as speaking/understanding French? Could I then get food stamps and free medical care to supplement the income I make standing around not being able to fulfill my job responsibilities because I don't know enough French to take an order and accurately fill it?

The fact is that I know I'm part of the problem--I keep going to McDonalds even though I have to practically use hand signs to order my meal, and 9 times out of 10 walk away with a large fries instead of the large drink I ordered because it would take too long to get them to correct the mistake. Maybe I and everyone just like me--short on time and patience and needing the occasional fast food fix--am the reason that the problem keeps getting worse and worse; if McDonalds and other restaurants continue to turn a profit whether people get good service or not, what's their incentive to try to attract English-speaking employees?

Anyway, here is my letter to McDonalds--what do you think the chances are that it will actually get read?

This complaint applies not only to this visit but many visits at local McDonald's restaurants. This particular visit was representative of almost every visit to a McDonalds in the Olney/Rockville/Gaithersburg MD area.

The order taker could not speak English--none of the employees could. I ordered a grilled chicken wrap with no sauce, just like I always do. And just as is always the case these days, he couldn't understand me. I had to say it several times, then of course they put sauce on it. Then I returned it and they gave it to me with no sauce--but gave me fried chicken instead of grilled chicken.

This same thing happens literally 9 out of 10 times I go to McDonalds. Also, 9 out of 10 times they get my order wrong, whether they speak English or not: I order a drink, they don't enter it right so they don't give me a drink and I have to do a whole new transaction. Or I order 2 of something and they give me only 1.

Is it that McDonalds doesn't pay enough to attract English-speakers? It drives me crazy that I, the customer, a US citizen residing in America, have to learn Spanish just to order a grilled chicken wrap with no sauce!! Americans are the people who made McDonalds the wildly-successful institution it in this country; as such I think it is your responsibility to keep it so AMERICANS can order food in your restaurants in ENGLISH, which is still, to the best of my knowledge, this country’s native language.

I swear, I don't know how people who do daily blogs find time to do it. Then again, I guess if it's your job then you have the time to do it.

My divorce is final TOMORROW and I can't wait to finally have some closure. Even though I was married for almost 14 years it feels like that part of my life never existed--when I think back to how miserable I was for so many years I can't imagine having lived that way for so long. The good news is that for as miserable as I was for all those years, I am so happy and in such a great place now that my old life seems like it was just a bad dream. I have learned and grown so much and am such a better person and mother for it. I always used to think that the whole "a good mom is a happy mom" thing was self-serving bullshit, but I have to say in my case it's true.

But I digress...enough of me rambling about my personal life. Or maybe that's what my millions of readers want to read? lol (I may as well be writing an email to you, Cassie, because you're probably the only one here!).

I have added a link to the blog I read every day because I think it has a lot of food for thought. I find it very ironic that I relate to the author because back when I was a stay-home mom valiantly trying to convince myself that I was doing the right thing for my kids by staying in a horrible marriage and denying myself any personal satisfaction or fulfillment (What--me, bitter? Never!)I would have jumped all over everything this woman and her fans say. Daycare for sick kids. Valuing one's job and not being willing to just walk away from it to stay home with kids full-time. Who knows what else; all I know is that if I were reading the same blog 3 or 5 years ago, instead of relating to Leslie Morgan Steiner, I would have been bashing every single post. Live and learn, I guess. Now it's the exact opposite--I feel like I finally have given myself permission to actually admit that I need the intellectual stimulation and, yes, income, that working provides. It feels a little weird, like I've joined the dark side or something. When I was a stay-home mom and associated only with other stay-home moms I experienced first hand--and of course participated in--the blatant scorn stay-home moms have for working moms. I remember friends who would deliberately have birthday parties for their kids in the middle of the day on a week day, scoffing at the fact that if a mom worked she couldn't come to the party. Maybe if she wasn't selfish and WORKING then her kid could have come to the party; it was a good way of making sure that they (we) never got to know any actual working moms because the stay-home mom lifestyle just didn't really intersect with the working mom world.

I know that my stay-home mom friends look at me and think "poor Maggie" now that I HAVE to work; I, on the other hand, now can't imagine being a SAHM again. Two summers ago it drove me crazy that I couldn't be home full-time with my kids and had to send them to camp and arrange babysitters, and I wanted nothing more than to have the luxury of going to the pool with them every day and just "doing nothing." That is, it drove me crazy until I stopped and remembered those many summers where I had done just that and was about ready to slit my wrists by mid-July. This summer, even though it's hectic and expensive and stressful to figure out the childcare thing, the thought of the alternative--being home with them every day myself--makes me shudder and want nothing more than to be sitting in my cube at work. I guess different things work at different points in people's lives and what I thought would never work for me (no pun intended)--being a career mom--is, in the end, what I probably should have been all along.

Anyway, I digress....I'm even boring myself here so I know it's boring anybody else who may be reading this.

Wish me luck for tomorrow--Eric is the plaintiff so he's the one who goes to the divorce hearing and I just hope he doesn't screw it up. All I want is, come this time tomorrow, to not be Mrs. Eric Leifer anymore!

Ok, enough socio-political rambling (is that what you'd classify this stuff as?)--on to much more interesting topics.

Such as my fixation with all things Japanese.

Why, you ask? Stuff like this is an example of just one of the many millions of reasons why.

I read this article in the Washington Post a few weeks ago--“Despite ‘Mommy Guilt,’ Time With Kids Increasing” (March 20, 2007)-- with a feeling of déjà vu. I have read this same article at least once before in the Post--apparently there is more than one guilt-laden sociologist mom out there who has done this same study before. And as those articles made me laugh in the past, this article made me laugh yet again at the lengths to which women today go to reassure themselves that working outside the home does not deprive their kids of mommy time.

The basic premise of this study is outrageous—let’s bend the laws of time and space to prove once and for all that it is actually possible to “do it all.” It is a physical impossibility for a person to be both at work in an office until 7 pm and home with the kids during that same time. This is not a judgment, just a fact. What, now only time spent down on our knees playing Legos or teaching our babies sign language counts as actual time spent with them, and time spent cleaning the house or cooking doesn’t? Or the notion that evening and weekend hours spent exclusively focused on all things kid—ferrying them back and forth to sports events, spending “quality time”—does this mean that these kinds of hours actually count double compared to the mundane hours stay-home moms spend with their kids during business hours?

This is in no way meant as a judgment on working moms—I am one myself—but a plea for women to stop over-analyzing their decision to work outside the home. This is yet another instance of women today being obsessively competitive and perfectionistic, feeling they have to one-up previous generations prove that they are not only as good as the June Cleavers of years past but actually better. Mothering is not a contest and women need to get past the notion that there is some formula by which they can win.