Saturday, November 07, 2009

The "I Have Deep Thoughts About Parenting" Post

a.k.a. I'm A Judgmental Bitch When It Comes To Kids

The below Deep Thoughts quotes are from a series of Facebook conversations I've recently been engaged in. These are all my responses only, so they don't really flow as a cohesive soap-box monologue.

But just in case anyone out there gets the idea that I really do parent with a roll of duct tape in one hand and a martini glass in the other, I thought I'd post my recent Deep Thoughts as evidence that, you know, even though I talk all funny about my slacker-torture parenting, I'm also at times very ponderously thoughtful, and embarrassingly empathetic, and focused on parenting process-improvement to the point of being a big bore and possibly a jerk.

It happens.

I just need to have a Seriously, Folks, I Do Have Deep Thoughts post to asterisk, footnote, and link-to in case I do write another hilarious "I've duct-taped my kids to the kitchen chairs so they'll stop making me spill my gin" post, and someone calls CPS on me.

This will function as that asterisk-able post.

I don't expect anyone to actually read all my meandering effluvium. I just want to have my parenting philosophies (a.k.a. "meandering effluvium") documented should I need to use it as evidence in a court of law.

Enjoy! (I'll have to post this quickly. My kids are gnawing through the duct tape and I'll spill my martini trying to catch them.)

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Original Provocative Facebook Blip

REMINDER TO SELF: More toys, more clothes, more things and stuff will not make kids happy. 99% of it is all just a substitute for more time with the adults in their lives. That's what they really want, and not to be "bought off" or shown love with "things". And no, they don't just want quality time. They need quality time in consistent quantities.


My follow-up Deep Thoughts, Proclamations, and Further Proof That I Sometimes Lose My Sense Of Humor:


...believe me, there is a reason I need to remind myself of all this.

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I'd love to just get the kids tickets for events: bowling together, snow tubing, movies together, camping together... heck, even a spa date together. That would be a great Christmas gift.

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We'll have some tangible gifts, to be sure. But honestly, we don't have enough money to do a big junk Christmas and then enjoy the time together with an event. Some people have that luxury of cash, but we just don't.

We've changed "Christmas as we know it" so many times, and the kids enjoy it anyway.

In general, however, Christmas and beyond, I see more and more kids who don't know what to do with themselves or with each other if they don't have Things surrounding them, telling them how to enjoy themselves and be creative, and more and more it seems it has to be high tech gadgetry - which ultimately demands more interaction with the robot than with the other human...although Wii has tried to convince us otherwise.

It's as if children don't know how to interact with each other without someone telling them what to do or giving them a storyline. Rockstar Barbie has a movie, a gazillion accessories, and a picture book that tells kids just how to play with her. That kids ever cut their Barbies' hair and change their names is more of a coup against marketing than a triumph of thinking out of the box.

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I've had kids walk out of our home because we don't always allow television or computer time on play dates. That to me is a sad state.

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I still think that it's far more radical to try to change Christmas to not revolve around gifts - no matter all the religious reminders that it's about more than gifts, no matter all our pop-talk about waste and consumerism and conservation and environmentalism - and I really do think that people still judge parents who don't get their kids more stuff as not caring as much or providing the proper childhood experiences.

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I just wanted people understand that it's not about me being a meanie and not letting my kids keep Christmas as we've had it before because of a whim.

I've been re-evaluating what I've been doing lately - which is precisely trying to find more things for my kids to do so that I could do *my* thing without being bugged - when really, *my* thing needs to be proportionally more being with my kids and interacting with them. I see negative behaviors from them when I try to substitute small quantities of quality time for the amount of time they do need, and fooling myself that it's enough. It's not. Parenting is a 24/7 job, and to tell myself that I'm doing a good job by giving them more things to keep them entertained - to keep them quiet - than by really spending more time with them and doing my job right, doesn't fly with them.

Maybe I'm indicting other people, too. But when I see my actions as part of larger societal actions and try to figure out where the problems are in general (not with specific children), then I get clues as to just where I need to tweak and change my own parenting.

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There's nature and then there's nurture. Sometimes, I chalk too much of my kids' behavior up to nature and give myself an easy out. Other times, too much on nurture. But nurture is what I can control for and it does make some difference. I'm actually too laid back a parent at times to let so much go to nature...which is why I have to force myself through these thinking activities.

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Well, speaking for my grandparents, they really didn't have the luxury of saying "yes" too much. And speaking to my grandmother, she did feel guilty at times. I do think we romanticize a bit too much "days gone by". On the other hand, my mother does remember spending more time with her mom doing chores, taking care of the younger children with her, etc. so there is that. Kids didn't have as much "childhood" as we understand it today, but they were incorporated into the family in real and meaningful ways besides just helping with the trash once a week and changing litter boxes.

Also, in a family of 6 kids with no television and not much in the way of gadgetry, my mom spent more time actually with her siblings. Now, not to say that this was idyllic either or instantly equaled good relationships; there were still the rivalry problems, and some rivalries for very basic needs which caused pain well into later years.

So, while it might seem that our grandparents ruminated less over questions like "Is my child's needs being met" in the same ways that parents today do, I think it was because - well, my family, specifically - when you are working a mine and a factory and have six children and are only just supplying their more basic needs and a few wants, then "what they need" is relative the closer you are existing to survival level. However, what they did get was a real place in the family where what they did tangibly mattered to the survival of the family. My kids have chores, sure, but most of them are manufactured to teach some notion of responsibility.

Which is all to remind me that "quality time" doesn't have to be as much about kicking a soccer ball with them, as teaching them meaningful skills in the household and within the family.


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I do need to keep looking to my grandparents to remember let out the leash more with my kids. It's so hard, though. It's kind of a Darwinian process for kids to learn street smarts, and I'm not always up to that worry. That is where I do have to let go more.

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I didn't mean to sound so judgmental re: kids who don't know what to do with themselves if electronics aren't around. Honestly, my kids have that problem of not knowing what to do with themselves, too. I just get particularly annoyed when people ignore me for a video game, so I think I focus on that too much. It's an ego thing.

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I have to remind myself - well, I don't have to remind myself, lol - that I also have a 3yo.

Sometimes I get into such "big kid" mode with the older girls being more independent (although, I will say that I still do then expect them to do more on their own when I should really be there) that it's hard to downshift into the more physically intense/demanding 3yo parenting.

I just had a very heart-rending conversation with a mom of older kids yesterday, and she was very candid with her own experiences and direct with reminding me not to fool myself into thinking that older kids need less one-on-one attention than younger kids; it's just a different kind of attention and, to boot, teens/pre-teens will sometimes insist that they don't need mom or dad, when actually, they need them more than ever. Just in less obvious ways.


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I will say that I have real mixed feelings when it comes to my 3yo. I sometimes don't have time - or I tell myself I don't - to do all those toddler-specific activities I did when the older girls were little. We don't listen to as much Raffi (thank goodness) or play as many little kid games. But at the same time, the 3yo seems just as happy to listen to the girls' High School Musical soundtrack or my iPod shuffle of 80's ska. And thank goodness that Baby Einstein videos were proven to be worthless beyond TV babysitting, because I'd much rather listen to Speed Racer in the next room than tinkly version of classic composers.

But I do have to actively remind myself that it's not all about the 3yo keeping up with or fitting in with the big kids (who are running at a sprint, now), but that, yes, we do still need to get him on the kiddie rides and make a big deal of it, and no, the older girls aren't allowed to make faces or roll eyes at Barney and make the 3yofeel bad for liking little kid things.

So, it's nice to have the pressure off knowing that he'll get along fine if we don't immerse ourselves in the world of toddler hood, but at the same time, if that's where he wants to be at times, we as a family shouldn't stand around looking at our wrist-watch and tapping our feet in impatience.


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I think that one of the problems here in the good old suburbs is that we've pretty much taken away much of the big green and wooded spaced to actually go run in. Kids don't get practice at it and don't become literate in "outdoors" - so they don't always even know what to do when they do get in the woods and so might be more likely to get hurt.

When I talk about being a parent 24/7, I didn't mean so much a hovering parent, but that as parents we can't really compartmentalize ourselves completely out of our kids lives, even when we're not with them. If something I'm doing "for myself" is causing some negative impact in the family, even though it's on my own time, then I think I need to consider how I can change or adjust time/interactions with my kids to make that negative impact less. Now, of course, whatever that formula is changes as kids get older and truly more independent...remember, I'm still talking as the mommy of a wee one.

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Organized sports and activities are all well and good, but I think as adults we sometimes get too involved in the wrong places and not enough in other places. There's a great book - Warrior Girls - that pretty much makes a good case for parents stepping out of kids sports a whole lot more; that when we essentially take over the activity for the kids, that we take any kid-driven creativity out of that activity and the kids, while technically astute, are not as creative in their game as kids who have more free play time.

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I just think that we sometimes think of "quality time" with our kids as something we have to go out of our way to do, or if it's not a kid-centric activity, it doesn't count and so we leave them out of our daily lives. I remember all the Saturday mornings traipsing around junk yards with Dad...it was his activity, but he clued me in on his experience ("talk, talk, talk"), took me along, included me, and it worked. Growing up, there were more situations when it was just assumed that kids would keep up with the adults and it worked. Our parents didn't only take us to "kid-friendly" restaurants and then completely lower their expectations and level of discipline. They took us to most any restaurant and mixed-age functions, and while they were practical about what to expect at our age/developmental stage, they also didn't lower expectations or expect vastly different treatment because we were just children.

Kids these days are limited to family restaurants, kids sections at the bookstore, the playroom at the wedding reception...if adults don't include kids in some all-age activities and teach kids how to behave at all-age events, then children aren't going to magically know how to behave when they are teens or young adults. Those children are, instead, going to feel entitled to behave however the hell they want simply because now they are "of age", even though they are not practiced in behaving "of age".


Kids are capable of living up to higher expectations more often than we give them credit for.


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One of the answers to "where have all the kids gone " is, I think, mom and dad both working, and a lot of kids in after-school care during the school year or all-day day camps at summer. Mom and Dad aren't home until 5:00 or later, so kids aren't either. The other problem is that because the neighborhoods are so sparsely populated during the day, it's tough for the few kids that are at home. If I send my kid out on her bike, she could ride a good long time before seeing another human in the neighborhood. It's not like when we were growing up and there were thousands of eyes available to keep us in line or call mom if we fell off a bike and broke an arm. Not even worrying about Stranger Danger, there just isn't much of anyone outside for basic buddy-system safety.

I will say, though, that last summer the electric went off from 2PM until 5AM. Magically, bunches of teenagers came out of their basements and started playing football and frisbee in the backyards. Of course, I also saw kids walking around outside, side-by-side, texting to each other, so...

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When I talk about 24/7 parenting, again, I'm not talking about micro-managing or "helicopter parenting", but more of an attitude of "no matter where I am, what I'm doing, I'm still a parent and at some point, my personal activities have to balance with my kids' needs". To be sure there are some kids who can't get out of their parents' shadow to gain some independence, there is separation anxiety that is not age appropriate, and parents who depend on their kids too much as their best friend. But I see that less often.

Adults these days are just busy. Kids get handed-off to teachers, to organized sports, to the television, to video games, to computers. Parents are often busy with or tired after full days of their "other" lives - whether out of the house or in the house - to take the time to teach social skills and discipline and just pay attention to kids in the context of the family.

It sometimes seems that kids fit in everywhere else, have a role and expectations of themselves and of the adults around them in school, in sports, in church groups - everywhere except in their own homes. I've heard parents say, "Oh, I tried to teach my 11yo daughter to cook, but she didn't do it right at first, and it's just such a hassle to teach her when I can do it myself easier and quicker and without so much mess."

And boy, can I empathize.

But parenting isn't about "easy" or "quick". And it sure ain't "not messy".

You know how people say, "My kid is so good for everyone else, but for me he's a terror and always whining" etc.? Kids sometimes give up demanding attention (i.e. needs being met) from their parents in positive ways, and so turn to negative ways. Whining. Sibling fights. Acting out. Most "bad behavior" is a positive need expressed negatively. We need to meet those needs either by direct assistance, or by taking the time to teach and so empower the child to attend to the needs themselves. Fish and fishermen and all.

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Parents are working and running in all directions, and so often I hear people say, "I've been busy all day, I don't want to deal with the bad behaviors at night", so we hand kids over to more and more gadgetry, toys, stuff to keep them out of our hair, to essentially sedate them. Or when we finally do toss them outside to play, it actually takes some time for them to figure out what to do with themselves, and sometimes they don't figure it out at all. And really, it's why books like "Daring Book For Girls" and "Danger Book For Boys" are so intriguing to kids. Basically, all those books are doing is teaching them how to be kids; teaching them, ironically, how to rely only on their own minds and bodies (and maybe a rubber ball or a length of fabric) to have fun, to create their own playscapes. Something that more intricately designed toys and video games with pre-written stories don't always do...or at least, not as easily.

It's like that line in Seabiscuit where the trainer says that the horse has forgotten how to be a horse. Somewhere along the way of school without recess, over-organized sports, electronically directed and directive games...

kids have forgotten how to be kids.

Sunday, October 04, 2009

Don't Mistake This For A Blog Post

It's a meme between me and myself to see whether or not I can remember all the concerts I've been to. If this is too self-indulgent even for a blog, please to move along and watch this instead. Thanks!

  • James Taylor
  • Cheap Trick (I was 14 years old)
  • Grateful Dead (42,000,034 times)
  • Peter Gabriel
  • Joe Jackson
  • Elvis Costello (good concert, bad date)
  • Indigo Girls
  • 808 State (broke my toe dancing)
  • Dee-Lite
  • Live (sucked so bad)
  • The Who (once at JFK Stadium in Philly)
  • Police
  • The Clash
  • The Pretenders (Erg. Chrissy must have been having a bad night.)
  • Madness
  • Hooters
  • R.E.M.
  • My Bloody Valentine
  • Stone Roses
  • PIL
  • The Cramps (New Year's Eve in Washington, D.C.)
  • Dead Milkmen
  • Stevie Nicks (Teh Awesome and let me tell me, I'm not a big Stevie fan)
  • Suzanne Vega (At Berklee School of Music in Boston. She was taking questions from the audience and being real cool about it until someone asked her if a certain song was about giving a bl*w job to her boyfriend. She reprimanded us and said No More Questions. We felt bad that we couldn't all have behaved better.)
  • Yes (For real)
  • Eurythmics
  • Rush (Seriously Teh Awesome)
  • The Kinks
  • Dire Straits
  • George Thorogood
  • Simple Minds
  • Crosby, Stills and Nash
  • Lyle Lovett
  • k.d. lang (Yes, I was crushing on her.)
  • Depeche Mode
  • The The
  • Frank Sinatra (at Hershey Arena)
  • Beck (At which my friend and I handed him a tape of our rap song. Yes, it was that bad.)
  • Gogol Bordello (possibly the best show evah, even more than the one where I broke my toe)
  • Jeffrey Gaines
  • Loudon Wainwright III (good heavens, but I adore this man in the way I adore Tom Robbins)
  • Squeeze (I think. It was "that year", ya know?)
  • Matthew Sweet
  • New Order
  • Oasis
  • Lou Reed
  • U2 (a few times, some with explosions, but many with messianic overtones)
  • Badly Drawn Boy
  • The Cardigans
  • Stray Cats
  • The Smithereens
  • The Cure
  • David Bowie
  • Rickie Lee Jones
  • Todd Rundgren (I seem to remember this concert taking place in a closet somewhere in Kenmore Square. It could have just been tunnel vision. And panic.)
  • Bob Dylan
  • Little Feat
  • Dinosaur Jr.
  • Aimee Mann (and I played softball with her and she never picked me for her team and I'll never forgive her even though I like her music fine)
  • Santana
  • Billy Bragg
  • Robyn Hitchcock

I think there are more.

What?

I told you this was an exercise in exercising my memory and convincing myself that I was once cool and with it.

At the very least, if I download all this stuff onto the Internet, I can free up more space in my brain to remember where my keys are and remember to recharge my cell phone and remember to stop calling my kids by the cats' names.

Fine. Here. Watch this. I listen to it at least once a day. Like vitamin B12.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Lectures vs. Teachable Moments

One week ago, at dinner table

Mother: So, what did you think of President Obama’s speech to school students?

Preteen: It was okay.

Mother: Just okay?

Preteen: Well, he said most of the stuff that you always say. You know, “work hard, stay in school, listen to your teachers, don't play video games”…stuff like that. Except he waved his arms around a lot more than you do.

Mother: Hmmmm.

Preteen: It was kinda long.

Mother: Do you remember anything else?

Preteen: He said he got up at 4:30 in the morning to walk to school.

Mother: Do remember him talking about standing up for kids who are getting bullied?

Preteen: Not really.

Mother: Did you hear the part about not counting on being a rich rapper or tv star?

Preteen: What’s wrong with rappers?

Mother: Alright. Well…maybe we’ll read it later and talk about it.

Preteen: sigh Okay, if you want to.


Today, at dinner table

Father: So, were the kids at school talking about what happened to Taylor Swift?

Preteen: Yeah! I don’t get it. Someone said that the President called her a bad name!

Mother: No no no no no no no….

Father: snort!

Preteen: Well what happened?

Mother: Taylor Swift won an MTV award for best female video. And while she was on stage making her acceptance speech and thanking her fans, another singer grabbed the microphone…

Preteen: Whoa.

Mother: …and told the whole audience that Taylor Swift shouldn’t have won the award…

Preteen: Whoa!

Mother: ...and that Beyonce should have won instead.

Preteen: WHOA!

Mother: Later on, President Obama was talking to some reporters off the record - do you know what “off the record” means?

Preteen: Yes.

Mother: And anyway, when the reporter mentioned what that singer did to Taylor Swift, Obama said that he thought that she was a nice young lady…

Preteen: He DID?

Mother: and that the singer who interrupted Taylor Swift was a jackass.

Preteen: Whooooooa. That’s not a nice word. But that singer wasn’t being nice, either.

Mother: Later on, Beyonce stood up for Taylor Swift. When Beyonce won her award, she invited Taylor to come on stage to finish her acceptance speech.

Preteen: Wow. That was really cool of her to do that.

Mother: Beyonce stood up for Taylor Swift when she was being bullied.

Preteen: Yeah! That’s right!

Mother: Yup!

Preteen: Beyonce is cool. So is President Obama. Even though he used a bad word.

Mother: Well, he was angry that someone who worked hard and was being congratulated for it had her moment stolen by a nincompoop.

Preteen: Yeah, she did work hard, didn't she!

Mother: Yes, she did.

Preteen: Hey, who was the stupid singer who took Taylor Swift’s microphone, the one President Obama called the bad name.

Mother: Kanye West.

Preteen: I don't know who that is.

Father: He’s a rapper.

Image from The Onion

Thursday, July 30, 2009

BlogHer, Part 2: The Journey Of A Thousand Miles Starts With One Panic Attack

Conversation With Bestest Friend A Few Days Before BlogHer

Bestest Friend: So, how are you getting to Chicago? Did you decide to drive?

Blogger: No, no! I’m going to fly! Isn’t that cool?

Bestest Friend: Wow! You are going to fly?

Blogger: Yes! Yes I am!

Bestest Friend:

Blogger: And I’m not nervous at all!

Bestest Friend: Good!

Blogger: Last time I flew I had to take a mild sedative...or five...but I don’t think I’m even going to need it this time!

Bestest Friend: Very good!

Blogger: I was reading through Flying Without Fearand really, there is no reason to worry! Flying is more safe than, well, than sitting in this room with you! Why, at any second, a meteor could crash through the roof and kill us both!

Bestest Friend: So true!

Blogger: Yup! No fear at all!

Bestest Friend: So what times are your flights?

Blogger: Well, I leave Philly around noon and it’s only an hour and a half flight to Chicago.

Bestest Friend: That will be easy!

Blogger: Oh sure, yuppers! Then I leave Chicago on Sunday morning, bright and early. I’ll have to be at the airport by 5:30 AM to get on my flight.

Bestest Friend: So you’ll probably just stay up all night?

Blogger: Yes, I’m thinking of it! Should be easy! Party, party, party!

Bestest Friend: Till the morning light! Party, party, party!

Blogger: Whoo-hoo!

Bestest Friend: Then you can crash on the plane!

Blogger:

Best Friend: I mean…

Blogger:

Friend: I mean, you know…"crash"...meaning "sleep"?

Blogger:

Friend:

Blogger: I’m going to need a quart of vodka to wash down the tranquilizers.

Friend: At least a quart.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Halushki at BlogHer 2009 in Several Conversations

In a word, my experience at BlogHer was overwhelming. But, overwhelming in the best ways possible. I've been thinking about this past weekend, letting the experience marinade a bit, and wondering how to best write about what went on out in Chicago. I mean, besides that fire a few years ago.

The short answer is "a lot went on." The long answer is a bit more involved. So involved, in fact, that I'm not going to be able to cover my BlogHer experience all in one post.

Can you stand it? Can you stand several posts about BlogHer? Like, all in a row with me writing and posting every day?

I've decided that the best way to tell the story is to report the conversations I had before, during, and after the event. No long drawn out narratives describing the hotel lobby decor or the way the dining hall lights played upon the seven-foot tall Ragu bottle made entirely of vegetables. No long strings of adjectives to paint a picture of the 1,400 pairs of shoes, and 1,400 hand-bags, and 1,399 hair-dos. No rambling prose meandering through the fun-house of my mind.

Just straight-on she said/she said.

All, of course, sifted through the multi-facets of my fun-house mind.

So? Y'all ready for this?

You bet you are!

Onward!

Note to Elisa Camahort Page: Next year, how about a session on how to write good metaphors? I think I'm your gal!

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BlogHer 2009: What It Is

Wednesday, July 22, 2009 - Afternoon Before Leaving for Chicago

Child: What are you doing, Mommy?

Mother: I’m making little cards to hand out at the blogging conference. See? With my blog name. So people I meet can read my blog if they want.

Child: What will you be doing? Will you all just be writing on your blogs the whole time?

Mother: Well, no. I’ll be hearing other women speak about the things they blog about, and people will talk about ideas to make blogs better, and I’ll be meeting new women at dinner and lunch and making new friends, and there will be some parties.

Child: Wow! Parties?

Mother: A few. But mostly I’m going there to learn some new things, and meet....

Child: Like, parties with cake and soda?

Mother: Well, yeah, I guess…and music and some dancing….

Child: Are you going to DANCE? In front of OTHER PEOPLE?!

Mother: Hey! I’m actually not that bad a dancer you know. And anyway that’s just a small part of….

Child: You’re going to be too silly. And weird. People will think you’re weird if you dance like in the kitchen.

Mother: No! People will like me! People won’t…people won’t think I’mweird.

Child: You are going to be too goofy.

Mother: Well...well...all the mommies there are going to be goofy.

Child: I’m afraid.

Mother: WHAT?

Child: I’m afraid you’re going to come back all…all different.

Mother:

Child: Something is going to happen in Chicago. I know it.

Mother: oh my god…don’t say that…I’m afraid of flying…

Child: No, not the plane. You and all the other mommies are going to go there and write a lot and not act like mommies while you’re there. You’re going to come home all different.

Mother:

Child: I’m afraid.

Mother:

Child:

Mother: Can I borrow your black sparkle hat for a party I’m going to.

Child: Yes. But I want it back.

Mother: Ok.

Child: And don’t be so weird.

Mother: I’ll try. I’ll really, really try.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

BlogHer 2009, Chicago

Hello!

I'm not here right now.

I'm at BlogHer 2009!

Well, actually, I am still "here" as in "here in my living room" or "here in the computer screen on your desk/lap."

I haven't gone anywhere yet. In fact, I haven't even finished packing because there's a load of laundry still drying, and until it dries, I can't go to Chicago because I cannot arrive without any clean socks or unmentionables.

See..right here on my official BlogHer What To Bring list, line 7, point a3, it is clearly stated that all attendees must have clean socks and at least one pair of unmentionables per day because they just aren't running "that kind" of women's blogging conference. Maybe next time when BlogHer is held in Paris, France where the ladies wear no pants, but in Chicago - as I understand it - there are some fairly strict rules and regulations about wardrobe and shenanigans.

I'm also to leave my mesh gauchos and my whoopee cushion at home.

So, in a few hours I will be in Chicago wearing very sensible shoes and possibly a pair of walking shorts in a neutral color and, of course, a camp shirt. And a sun bonnet. And gloves.

I will spend three days surrounded by one-thousand very sensible women, and we will talk about writing and punctuation and how not to be too much of a nuisance to all the guys on the Internet, and then we will all sit together with linen napkins on our laps and eat chicken croquettes, and then we'll have a small sherry before getting a good night's sleep.

It will be a lot like a convent, except with WiFi.

Now, the next question I know many of you will have about BlogHer (after "Will all the good ladies be appropriately and modestly dressed?") is "What do I do when I finally meet Madame Halushki live and in person?"

This is an excellent question, and one that I've answered countless times before many Internets2RealLife meetings. Understandably, what with my countless cyber communications enumerating my boundless good looks, substantial charm, and impressive height, most common (and I mean that in the best way possible) folks are simply petrified by the potential for self-loathing once they bask in my corporeal presence.

Let me put you at ease with


5 Mystical Insights Into The Legend That Is Madame Halushki

(You're welcome).

1. Contrary to what I may have told you on-line, I am only 5'4", I sport a muffin top, I slouch, and I have cellulite. If I have ever accidentally given the impression that I am actually Claudia Schiffer, I apologize for that. My bad.

2. I may at times seem distant and aloof. This is not me being coy, hoity-toity, or intentionally weird. It's simply that I may not hear you. I seem to be losing my hearing a bit lately, and there is a sweet spot where you need to stand (pitched about 47 degrees from either ear) in order for me to get your gist. Alternately, you could pass me a note on a napkin, and please do so as often as I have salad in my teeth.

3. Since Vatican II, it is no longer necessary to bow fully from the waist when you first meet me, nor do you need to retreat from my presence by walking backwards. Upon introductions, a small curtsy will do, and instead of walking backwards, please feel free to do the electric slide.

4. I'm given to incoherent non-sequiters in the middle of conversations. Please know that there actually is some line of thought I'm following that has gotten me from your mentioning that your sister was accepted to Yale to me asking, "Do you like Werner Herzog movies?"

Your mentioning your sister made me think of my sister.
My sister has goats. Wool goats and meat goats.
I've never eaten goat. I have eaten horse.
I've eaten horse in France.
I lived in Grenoble in France.
The winter Olympics were held in Grenoble.
Ski jumping is an exciting winter sport.
I once saw a documentary on a ski jumping directed by Werner Herzog.
However, no matter how charmingly idiosyncratic or idiosyncratically charming my flights of mental fancy, if I do so misdirect the conversation, please feel free to give me a hard, silent stare and I will generally get the hint that I've been unmannerly and boorish. I will then correct the behavior and ask an appropriately engaged probing question: "Did your sister get to Yale on a ski jumping scholarship?" Or the like.

5. I like tonic with my gin, and vice versa. However, too many gin and tonics has the effect of brown acid on me, so please encourage me to pace myself with a 1:6 ratio, i.e. of one gin and tonics to ever six root beers and fresh air.

There! Now don't you feel more comfortable about the prospect of meeting me?

I know I do.

I was nervous all day about being me and meeting everyone.
It can be positively exhausting! People expect a tall, slender megalomaniac who can hold her liquor and make brilliant conversation, and instead they get a short, hard-of-hearing megalomaniac who speaks in tongues after too ingesting many crushed juniper berries.

If everyone just lowers there expectations and matches me drink for drink, we'll all get along just fine.

I promise!

See you in Chicago!

nataliedee.com
nataliedee.com

Friday, June 26, 2009

More Importantly, How Does This Affect Jozet?

Where Jozet was when she heard Elvis had died:

At home in Frackville, watching the big tube console television.

What it meant to her:

I had me some very sad relatives, including two boy cousins who were completely devastated. Elvis was Teh Coolest, even Fat Drugged-Out Elvis. I’m pretty sure that one cousin had every single Elvis album, even the gospel and budget releases. I especially loved this cover for some reason. Very “Two highways diverged beneath my hunk o‘ burnin‘ love, and you know you took them both, Honey.”

Did she cry?

No, I did not.

Then what?

Probably had some ice cream with pretzel sticks. It was the day before my mom’s birthday, and there was ice cream to be had.

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Where Jozet was when she heard John Lennon had died:

Getting ready for high school, Freshman year.

What it meant to her:

My world came crashing down. All of it. Entirely. My best friend and I had just made plans to travel to New York City to stand outside the Dakota Apartments and…I don’t know…wait until he invited us in to have tea with him, Yoko, and Sean. Instead, I stood on the northwest corner of 72nd Street, and for the very first time in my conscious life, I truly wondered whatever the hell was wrong with some people.

Did she cry?

For days. Years.

Then what?

I went to school that day. I seem to remember even the teachers were somber, maybe sad. Even the nuns. Even the bitchy nuns. For days, we all wore black arm bands. For the rest of our lives, some of us continued to wonder what the hell was wrong with some people. Giving peace a chance aside, that's all I am saying.

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Where Jozet was when she heard Kurt Cobain had died:

Driving down Columbus Boulevard/Delaware Avenue in Philadelphia.

What it meant to her:

Hearing a lot of Nirvana on the radio, for once.

Did she cry?

No.

Then what?

I called my husband (then boyfriend) and reminded him about the time I wanted to go see an up-and-coming band from Seattle called "Nirvana" play a gig at a small club on South Street. And then I reminded him of how he scoffed at me and told me they’d never amount to anything. And then I reminded him of how he talked me into not going to the small club to see that nothing band, Nirvana, play live.

I reminded him of that.

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Where Jozet was when she heard Jerry Garcia had died:

In the supply closet at SmithKline Beechan Phamaceuticals, arranging paper products, listening to WMMR.

What it meant to her:

Ah hell. Thirteen Dead shows with Jerry was just not enough.

Riding to distant outdoor venues with carloads of friends. Tail-gaiting and partying in the parking lots. Buying cool handmade tie dyes and...stuff. Hours of dancing. Dressing like Jesters. There would be no more mystical wanderings through crowds of music heavy with technicolor patchouli, no more hundred-thousand impromptu friends, and no more living postcards from a decade most people thought had gone the way of the IRL (In Real Life) protest march.

And no, Phish concerts are not the same thing.

Did she cry?

No. I may have gotten drunk, though.

Then what?

Around that time, I went on to live a life more grown-up. And ordinary. However, just thinking about it all, I’m right now feeling the urge to…er…tie dye some pillowcases. Ehem.

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Where Jozet was when she heard Princess Diana had died:

Late at night, at home, after clubbing. I was watching the television in the spare bedroom.

What it meant to her:

Felt very, very bad for Diana's children.

Also reckoned that I had never heard the name "Dodi" before.

Did Jozet cry?

No. Not even during Elton John singing "Goodbye English Rose".

Then what?

I got my hair cut like Princess Diana's, but it was unintentional, I swear. Of course, everyone thought I had it cut because I must be such a big Princess Di admirer. And then a few people said I actually did look like Princess Di, which was entirely inaccurate: Princess Di was about five feet taller than I am, and I can’t wear sleeveless dresses. All in all, it was a very difficult time for me.

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Where Jozet was when she heard Michael Jackson had died:

At work at the bookstore.

What it meant to her:

Having Can’t Stop Till You Get Enough running through my head for the rest of the evening. Also, seeing several employees break out in their best moonwalk.

Did she cry?

I got a little teary-eyed the next day hearing Man In The Mirror on the radio.

Then what?

A fairly involved discussion with my perceptive daughters over just how/why some people can/would change their appearance so drastically. Then a thoughtful gleaning from my eldest daughter as to what it must have been like to live in the 1980s:

“Whenever you talk about the 80s, Mom, I always imagine everyone wearing a lot of neon green.”

Just the one glove, Darling.

Just the one glove.

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People want to know my deep thoughts and stuff.