Adventures In Motherhood

My kids messed with the wrong mom. Further proof that their prefrontal cortices are still under construction. I applaud them, however, for testing the boundaries as normal teens do, as well as testing my bona fides as a former trained CIA operative, because now, they've given me a chance to prove my skill set. With more eyes on the prize - empty-nesting in t-minus three years - the stakes have never been higher to prove my children can, and will, achieve their goals, if it's the last thing I guide them to do. Despite my menopausal mania, tradecraft proved effective and Operation Buzzkill a success.  "You get in less trouble if you tell the truth," has always been my mantra.  At times when they were younger, I swore by the old lie-detector test - the one where they'd place their palms down on mine and I'd ask them questions while locking their eyes. Behavior assessment and elicitation, now less effective, probably because their pupils are frozen from too much s...

Gone are the days of kitchen closings for dinner table behavior that belongs in the bathroom! We have now achieved Festivus, for the rest of us parenting teens. The ‘Seinfeld’ holiday includes the ‘airing of grievances’ during the Festivus meal where each person tells everyone else all the ways they have disappointed them over the past year. Among our three sons, this airing of grievances has surpassed the airing of gas to make your brother laugh.  I don't recall many sit-down meals in my family of four growing up, either because we ate meals on t.v. trays or the ridicule usurped positive memories. The responsibility of parenting dinner time discussion has proven equally challenging when ridicule is forbidden and plates are emptied faster than dog dishes. Over the past decade we've tried sharing highs and lows, emotions on the 'feelings wheel', compliments, and vocabulary games like 'Wild Words'.  Lately the sharing of highs and lows has turned into who can shar...

No sooner had we escaped our household zoo for a brief two-night getaway alone, than my daughter's text brought us back to reality. "Awkward," the message read with the following picture attached: Our tattered overnight bag from my college years abandoned on our front porch, stared back at me like an erect middle finger to the face. Sipping a glass of overpriced cabernet I flipped my phone for my husband to read as the server walked away with our order. "Probably safe on our stoop without an Amazon package label," I muttered. I inventoried the contents of the bag in my head... contact case, toothbrush, swimsuit, clothing... what else? I laughed, hoping Bruce would not take the news hard. Who could blame him for leaving the black zippered duffel on our front porch? We had to get the hell outta Dodge before Grandma, tough as nails, changed her mind!  Shaking his head in frustration, "It's only a two hour drive there and back. I'll go ho...

Parenthood is a Mensa mental challenge these days of major league proportions. Uncomfortable silence be damned! You are my son and I will keep rattling off topics requiring more than a yes/no answer until the cows come home, as we pass the pastures and rolling hills of Oregon en route to our latest baseball tournament. The hour and location unimportant, I have a GPS and my only goal is time alone with you. With four children, a car ride alone with you is a passable date as I step up to the plate. Deep voice and prickly moustache amidst your fourteen-year-old complexion, I can still see the almost 8lb 12.5oz little slugger with handsome sideburns gazing in my eyes with wonder. I know you still need your mom even though your replies sound more like grunts. Why is the answer to what you and your buddies ate for dinner while skateboarding last night 'stuff'? I'm mom and you're safe! This is my first time parenting a teen boy. Grunts and stuff may be the norm though ...

This morning began like any other, dogs out, coffee on, my starving 15-year-old daughter accusing me of running out of food in the house, rushing my 8-year-old to the bus stop, wetting down my 13-year-old's hair, lest he look like a rooster at the band concert tonight, and verifying my 11-year-old had black pants and a white shirt that fit for his first band concert. This was all before my first cup of Joe! Determining I'd have to add 'buy black pants' to my endless To Do list today, I made my ritual stop in the boys' bathroom to flush the simmering pot whatever they had deposited. A boys' bathroom is a Petri dish of disgusting bodily fluids and this morning was no exception. Little did I know it was a ticking time bomb ready to explode. Like a Magic Tree House book, I was transported on yet another Adventure In Motherhood: 'Tsunami Before Coffee'! Flushing the handle, I turned to jog downstairs for a cup of coffee before stopping cold in my tracks. My...

Desperate times call for desperate measures and more than halfway into the summer, I was desperate for a few hours to myself. Selfishly I craved time to write, to attend yoga, or simply to use the bathroom ALONE. I was desperate for a creative alternative that didn't include screen-time, arguing or debate, when lo and behold, the perfect solution presented itself, to include my kids bonding (without my guidance) and exercise on bikes! The hours of entertainment were sure to please everyone, including this desperate mother of four kids. What is this Utopian solution? Vintage arcade games! They didn't harm us as kids and beat the hell out of the violent first person shooter games my kids' friends play. Frogger, PacMan, Asteroids, Centipede, Donkey Kong, you name it, Ground Kontrol has it and it's only a four-mile bike ride away. My sons say it even builds hand-eye coordination for baseball, though I'm less persuaded. Just yesterday I set out on a Forced Family Fun...