DC Metro Moms

Have we forgotten our own childhood?

"A mom just walked into the orthodontist office with her dog making sure her son "made the appt". Busy street. Kid a tween. So not cool!!"

I read this tweet on Twitter. It was written by a pediatrician. Yes the tweet has a twang of being judgmental, but everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and if we don't like that opinion, we can give it a "So what" in our head and move on. What struck me about the tweet is it made an assumption about what had transpired prior to the child's arrival at the Ortho's office. And the assumption was the mom wasn't doing her job as a parent.

I disagree, we shouldn't assume that at all. And I give as an example, my own childhood. Maybe yours is similar? I was a tween I crossed busy streets on my own daily. I lived in two boroughs of New York, Brooklyn and Manhattan and both had, I know crazy, "busy streets." Did my parents just take me to the corner of 5th Avenue and 56th with a starter pistol and yell "GO!" Hell no. They taught me how to properly cross a street and they didn't begin the process when I was a tween either, they started it before I even learned to toddle. As we crossed a street, they would narrate what they were doing for me. "I'm not stepping off the curb until the light is red, do you see the red light Devra? Point to it."

Soccer dad gave a damn. He just gave the wrong kind of damn.

I've been a soccer mom for a while. I've got the minivan, and the mileage, to prove it.  Both of my sons play travel soccer in a fairly competitive DC area league. One of the requirements for teams in the league is to assign a Team Sportsmanship Liaison AKA The TSL. The TSL is responsible for their own team's spectator sidelines. The reason the TSL exists is so no parent acts a fool coaches can focus on coaching.  Some teams have a different person perform the duties of TSL and other teams, like the ones my sons are on, have a designated TSL for the entire season.  Given that the TSL is supposed to be "the cooler head should sideline behavior behavior become extreme" when my older son's team moved to this more competitive league, his coaches asked if I would be the TSL for the team and they buttered me up with, "Devra, you're a social worker you are come already equipped to handle conflict and crisis." Well, when it's put that way, it is sort of difficult to insist "No, I'm not the right person for this." So yeah, I became the TSL for the team and have been for the past 4 years.

So far for my older son's team, I've only had one instance where I had to rock my orange TSL badge and deal with a parent gone wild-- a dad yelling instructions from the sideline to his son on the field. An action which is not permitted during any league game as doing so could potentially impact the outcome of the match, not to mention confuse a player who must then decide, "Do I listen to my coach or listen to my folks?"  This is a big no-no.

Why is this Easter different from all other Easters?

Because we're going to the White House Easter Egg Roll. When I told one of my friends I was going to write up a post about it, she warned, "Be careful when you blog about it, you know how some readers are, they will wonder why you are going because you're Jewish. And they might get pissed off."  True. But will these folks also question why the Obama's hosted a Passover Seder at the White House last Monday and non-Jews, including the First Family, attended? 

The answer to both, as I see it, is sharing a celebration is different than actually observing it yourself.  I strongly believe when you are invited to participate in someone else's holiday tradition, it is an honor to attend.  We were invited to attend the White House Easter Egg Roll by Blue Star Families who provided tickets to military families, such as our own.  So we're going to go. And yes, even my own kids asked how this all was going to work because they obviously know they themselves are Red Sea Pedestrians. So I used an explanation I learned a few years ago from a friend of mine who is also in an inter-faith family (Remember, my husband is a Not. i.e. Not Jewish, Not anything else either).

I can see clearly now the snow has gone, but now I'm kind of a weirdo

 The snow has almost melted and the roads have been clear for more than a week. Kids are back in school and one would think all would be right with the world. "The 11 Days of Captivity" as I have come to call it took a toll on everyone.  The joke wasn't missed that the only day the kids went to school prior to The Big Snow was Groundhog Day, and the 10 days following just seemed like a really bad Bill Murray movie. Same snow, different day.  Earlier today I was talking with our neighbor and something occurred to me, our reality has shifted to include things that earlier we may have eschewed but now embrace as routine, if not totally normal.

1. Inviting your neighbor over to do their laundry since you have a generator and they don't.

2. Wearing flip flops when it is 45 degrees because you consider anything above 19 degrees a "heat wave." This goes along with letting your kids wear shorts to school because you've lost touch with reality and they are going to be successful pushing the envelope, so they do.

3. Writing a "Thank you" note to your children's school because you now fully understand and appreciate why it is your children go to a school and are not home-schooled by you.

And let me break for a moment to say when my son's 4th grade teacher emailed homework for us to print, I went to download the PDF's and wondered, "Why are they studying 5 pages about hormones?"  Homophones. It was HOMOPHONES.

Smartassery Begets Smartassery In My Family

You know what happens when you make fun of something and you do so repeatedly?  Do you know what will happen if you joke that if you owned such an atrocity you might be inclined to get rid of grounding as a discipline technique  and instead wear that certain something to your sons' soccer games and cheer loudly on the sidelines? What about if you pointed it out that your husband should get one and wear it to the Pentagon work since his office tends to be a little on the chilly side?

What if you were asked to change the channel on the TV and sighed, "I'd love to help you out, but alas, my blanket doesn't have sleeves." Let's say you also theatrically chattered your teeth and accompanied the chattering sound with a "brrr" every time you opened your laptop?  Maybe you make one too many references to how a person could be cast as  Huggy Bear's long lost sister on Starsky & Hutch. You know, the one who lived in the frozen tundra?  If that weren't enough, you continued to insist the thing was nothing more than a long sleeved hospital gown-only made out of fleece.   Do you have any idea what will happen if you do such things?

That's right. You'll receive a bright pink Snuggie as a Chanukkah gift from your children.   

Original post to DC Metro Moms. You can find Devra and her pink Snuggie over at Parentopia.

How 'bout a helping of brains with your turkey?

A week or so ago my husband and I joined our younger son at his elementary school for a Thanksgiving lunch in the school cafeteria. We've had two children attend this elementary school and the Thanksgiving lunch is something we've done in years past.

 

Only this year it was different. As the three of us arrived at our table and sat down one of my son's classmates burst into tears. He was seated next to me, I asked him what was up. "My parents aren't here!" Okay, no problem. "I'll go check and see if they are signed up for the lunch," I told him as I got up and made my way to the sign-in table in the school's foyer.

 

Arriving at the table I inquired if this particular student's parents, or any other person, had signed up for the lunch. I gave the students name to the woman at the table. "No, they aren't signed up." Okay. No problem. We'll just take him under our wing for the lunch. It'll be fine.

 

I was about to turn from the table, but this woman wasn't done, "To be PC, his parents don't come to things." Huh? I was puzzled. I stared blankly. The woman tried again, "To be PC, his parents aren't the type of people to come to things in the middle of the day." Again I stared at her, turned my gaze to the teacher seated beside her and said "Our family will include him with us and we'll get through it. I'll also let his teacher know he was upset."

Things That Go Bump In The Night

Driving home on a dark and rainy night something zoomed onto the road right in front of my car. There was no way I could safely swerve to avoid it. Braking on the slick road wasn't an option. The other lane wasn't clear either. My heart sank as I heard the small thump and felt the bump under the wheels of my minivan. My mother and my son were in the car with me. I did my best to quickly channel Mr. Rogers and I prepared myself for the questions which would no doubt begin after my son heard the bump.  Only he wasn't the one with all the questions. It was my mother.

Baba: What was that?

Me: It was a raccoon. It just ran right out into the road, I couldn't avoid it safely.

Baba: Why was it crossing the road?

Me: Not sure. Maybe no one ever told it "Cross at the green, not in between."

Son: Baba, I know why.

Baba: You do? Really?  Why?

Son: To get to the other side.

Maybe Cory and Conan will fight over me

I don't recall how it happened, whether I followed him first or he found me.  All I know is we shared our love. Yes, it's true. I shared love with a man other than my husband. A man I met over the internet. We Tweeted  expressed it openly and  DM'd it in private.  I told this man, I wanted to visit him and we could continue what we had started online and bring it into our real lives. I even made a video about the love we both share. I know, I know. I'm married. I have two kids. I live in a completely different state.  And yet I told this man I would meet him at a diner in New Jersey so we could both get us some...

Coffee.

Oh what a woman would not do to get a decent cup o'Joe. Maybe it borders on criminal, maybe it borders on the inappropriate, but Cory Booker, the Mayor of Newark, became my caffienated confidant. You see, I could tell Cory about my Java use knowing he was simpatico. Yes, I know, some people would consider it akin to a platonic  affair, disclosing my gold filtered unfiltered feelings to a man other than my own husband, but I don't see it that way at all. My husband has no interest in coffee. Nay, he spurns it.   Do I sneak out of the house to fulfill my needs? No. Absolutely not! I grind at home. Right in the kitchen. In front of G-d and everyone. There is nothing tawdry going on and my 19  year marriage is still a strong brew.

He has a higher security clearance than the school bus driver. So shouldn't you be able to trust him with your kids?

Being in the the shadow of the capital, one might think every public school within 50 miles of the Beltway would be showing the speech President Obama delivered on the first day of school. A speech delivered in Arlington Virginia. Can't get much more local than that. Well, think again.

Last week my son's elementary school principal sent home a note to all of the parents informing us the president's speech to children will be shown in a couple of days. The note stated it was being sent home in response to several parental inquiries regarding the showing of President Obama's speech to school children in Arlington. It included information for parents who may wish to request an "Opt Out" for their child. The note shared that an alternate activity would be offered to those children who would not be watching the president's speech. I heard my grandmother's voice in my head, "What has gotten into these people?"

Indeed. Something is seriously amiss.

Where the hell is National Harbor?

I was fairly certain National Harbor was somewhere near DC, but then something happened and I wasn't so confident.  I had planned a Pre-BlogHer gathering at a brand new gallery, arranged for a fabulous sponsor for the soiree, even arranged for a fancy schmancy caterer. I'd gone crazy in the wine store.  Everything was in place for a fabulous evening of getting to know other bloggers from DC, VA and MD.  The day of the event,  I had everything packed in my car and ready to roll. I plugged the information into my GPS and then I felt my stomach lurch. 

 Staring back at me were the words "Oxon Hill, MD."  Not being from DC, I read "Maryland" and instantly began to hyperventilate as my mind began to race, "Uh oh. Did I plan a DC, VA and MD event in Baltimore by accident. Who does that? Who plans an event accidentally in the wrong locale over an hour away?"  Thankfully, not I.