"MILF Monday" - Skinny Genes

I have skinny jeans and I'm not happy.

I've never had skinny jeans before.  Of course I've put on weight since my college days - probably around 20 pounds (I was 5'8" and 125 when I graduated.  Hate me?  That's okay.  I hate me too now).  But I never noticed a dramatic change.  It just sort of snuck up on me - this morning. 

Sure over the past 10 years I've given birth twice - once to twins - and I noticed that I am rounder, softer...a bit more "zaftig".  And it's not like 143 pounds is even so bad.  I actually feel pretty good about myself naked.  My butt is still kind of yummy, when I suck in from the side I can achieve a lovely silhouette, and my boobs have magically maintained a firmness and defiance of gravity despite the shifting landscape upon which they are perched.  It's just that there's more "stuffing"as my daughter referred to it recently, and I never really noticed.

I had always been thin.  Naturally thin.  I spent my life eating exactly what I wanted, when I wanted, and it burned right off.  When my 10 year old was a toddler, I could eat the macaroni and cheese off her plate and still look fabulous.  It wasn't till I hit 40 that I noticed the hint of Spaghettios on my butt.  But I chalked it up to just not having a lot of time to exercise.  I could get rid of it whenever I wanted to.  Or so I thought.

"I'm so lucky, I have a fast metabolism." I would say to friends who dared to eyeball the cup of chocolate pudding occasionally found in my hands.

And I believed this twist of fiction.

My jeans always went out of style, or I had long since lost track of them, before I ever outgrew them.   And if I did have a pair of jeans long enough to notice they were getting 'snug', I always had a great reason why they were no longer hugging my hips, but rather strangling the bajeezuses out of them; they were in the drier too long, I'm bloated,...it's Thursday.

Maybe if designers had kept the waistline of jeans up around my midsection, I would have had some sort of "control" group - some reality smacking way to gage the growth.  A "constant" against which I could judge the ever increasing, pudding and childbirth induced wave of flesh.  Maybe then this wouldn't have happened.  But no.  My fat responded positively to this fabulous new trend and like a tube of toothpaste being squeezed flat from the bottom, the "paste" came up and out the open flip top cap.  Hey, if they closed, they fit.

But this morning, I went to put on my favorite jeans which had disappeared for about a year and had  resurfaced after a good closet cleaning.  They didn't close.  And, it wasn't pretty.

I couldn't use any of my old excuses and I had to face the music.  And put down the pudding.

So now I have "skinny jeans."  And maybe - just maybe - one day they'll fit again.  If I diet and exercise and don't pick at my kids' chicken nuggets.

Or maybe, even better, I'll just wait for them to go out of style.

Home Movies

My teenage niece caught my sister smoking.

My sister doesn't smoke.  Never did.  At least not as far as my niece knows.

It wasn't like she caught her out behind their garage, or found a pack of cigarettes in her bag.  No, the 14 year old caught her mother "red-handed" with the smoking gun...uh, cigarette...in her hand.

She saw her do it on a home movie.

A couple of times a year - on the big holidays - we take out old videos and pop them in for the kids.  Despite my family's best efforts to avoid me and my camera, I've managed to take a lot of video of them over the years for which they are now all very grateful.

This particular video was of my sister's wedding about 16 years ago.  I schlepped my video camera - 20 lbs of the latest in compact home video technology - all the way to the Berkshires.

I carried the monster around on my shoulder for the whole weekend and followed her, my brother-in-law-to-be, and their friends around asking them stupid things like "Do you have anything to say?", "Are you excited?" and "Would you like to say a few words to the bride and groom?" 

At every turn I was thwarted with hands over faces and chastised for being an annoying little sister: "Stop it, Sarah!"  "You're bugging everyone!"  "No one wants you to videotape them!" she'd say from between the fingers covering her face.  But I persisted.  I thought "Some day, she'll want to see this.  Someday, she'll be glad I taped her wedding weekend.  Someday...she'll be grateful."

So I videotaped her and all her friends, at breakfast, at dinner, hanging out, and I got a lot of footage.  Footage we never watched...until now.

As we assembled in my TV room for family videos I said proudly"Guess what?  I just put your wedding video on DVD!  Wanna watch?"

"Really????!  Put it in!  Put it in!"  See?  I told you she'd be grateful someday.

So we're watching footage of all of us 16 years ago - partying, celebrating...and what do you know...I apparently had the camera right up behind my sister's head and said "Hey!" so she'd turn around unguarded.  Sure enough, she did and she was smoking a cigarette.

My neice shrieked!  "MOMMY!  YOU SMOKED!"

My sister froze.

I peed.

Maybe she's not so grateful after all.

Diversity in the Toy Aisle on NPR

I got to use the word 'Shtetl' on national radio.  Now how many people can say that.

 Click to go to NPR "Tell Me More" Show - "Diversity in the Toy Aisle"

You may need to click on the "Add to playlist" button or the "Download" button to hear the broadcast.  It will download like a normal MP3 song - only free.

NPR calling! (a/k/a "the best phone call I ever received before 8:00AM)

My phone rang at around 7:45 this morning and I glared at it like "What the f*ck!"

I hate when people call me early in the morning.  I don't know why.  Early morning phone calls seem to sound an alarm for doom and gloom or at least carry requests for favors.   And they feel all the more burdensome because they come at my busiest time of the day and carry the expectation that I'll put aside my priorities to deal with the caller's issue immediately.   It just totally bugs me.  I know this isn't normal. 

I could tell from the caller ID number that it wasn't my mom, sister or ex - the usual suspects.  I saw a (202) area code and tried to figure out - who do I know in Washington D.C.?  (Okay...I won't lie, at first I thought it was Connecticut).

I answered the phone with a tentative and fairly unfriendly "hello?" in preparation for hearing about "lowered Mortgage rates"and "ways to consolidate my bills".

"Uh, hello?  Is this Sarah?"

"Yes.  Who is this?"

"It's me, Rob."

It was an old family friend.

"Oooohhhh....Hi, Rob!"

"Uh...did I call at a bad time?  I know it's early"

"It's fine.  I'm sorry.  I hate mornings.  What's up?"  He told me he was calling to ask if I'd be a guest on NPR's show "Tell Me More" today...in an hour!  Woo-Hoo!  I don't think anything has jump-started me so quickly since I discovered Dunkin' Donuts Dark Roast at my local Vons.  I was so excited!  I was so glad he didn't hang up on me when I snapped his ear off.

So an hour later I showed up in sweats (after all, it is radio...) and we had a lively discussion about the rise in availability of ethnic dolls (and no, I don't mean the Kardashians) and whether or not as moms of varying "ethnicity" this trend affected our buying choices when it came to what we purchased for our daughters.

Okay, I know what you're thinking...Jewish isn't technically "ethnic"...and my family has been in America for five generations...and I'm not particularly religious ...but my hair is brown and curly (at least under the Brazilian straightening treatment) so I can say I truly understand on a deeper level (at least to my scalp) the burden ethnicity brings - especially when it's humid.

But the point is...I am going to be on NPR.

Or, maybe the point is that not every early morning phone call is necessarily bad and that I shouldn't be quite so snappy.

Either way, I hope you'll tune in tomorrow to "Tell Me More" on NPR.  You have to go to NPR.org/programs/ to find out when it will air in your timezone.

"I'm thankful for Asia"

I suppose a comment like this would surprise a parent, but not me.

Last night at my sister's house we all went around the table and said what we were thankful for.

My twins, as always, responded to this with the expected amount of propriety.

"I'm thankful for my mommy, daddy, Wii, and food" said Ben.  Okay.  I was pleased.

Always one to one-up her brother given the opportunity, Livi said "I'm thankful for my Mommy, daddy, my house, candy and Scott - including my boyfriend in the mix to gain extra points.  I was on to her, but what the heck.

My 10 year old nephew says "I'm thankful for my dogs, my mom and dad, video games, food and movies."  My sister nodded approval.

Her teenage daughter said "I'm thankful for life."  Brevity is the hallmark of teenagers.

Then we came to Isabel.  "I'm thankful for Asia."

"Excuse me?" Only a child of mine would say something like this.

"I'm thankful for Asia.  If there weren't any Asia there's be a big hole in the ocean - Asia is HUGE.  And we wouldn't have Chinese Food."

Maybe the girl makes a point.  We all recognize the gift of obvious things; food, life, videogames, health.  But isn't it nice sometimes to give thanks for things we would never consider?  Maybe I'm thankful for Asia too.  After all, I do love  dumplings.

My ABCnews.com Clip!

It's the most wonderful meal of the year

Every year I look forward to Thanksgiving.  It's my FAVORITE meal of the year!

I love crispy, buttered turkey skin, sweet potatoes whipped with more butter and topped with melting marshmallows, pies, cakes, cookies (all made with butter) and an over-indulgence of cheeses and charcuterie to nibble on as we wait for cider to mull.  Yum!

My kids hate it.

Every year I try to ply them with sweet potatoes with a high marshmallow to potato ratio and they pick at it like I've given them collard greens.  They don't like pumpkin pie, they won't touch stuffing, and when I point out how moist the turkey is I get asked, "Can I have ketchup?"

Apparently, if it's not smothered in ketchup, laden with sodium, sprinkled with colored sugar or artistically crafted into the shape of a dinosaur, it's "gross".

They didn't start out this way.  I did everything "right" to make them good eaters.  I gave them vegetables before they ever had  fruit.  I pushed roasted chicken, lasagna and made smiling yummy faces as they sucked down creamed spinach.  I thought it was working.

But somewhere along the way, they decided there to boycott my efforts.   I blame myself.  As they slowly limited their intake of "healthy" food, I  made "accommodations."  They didn't want steak, so I made hamburgers, they didn't like lasagna, so I gave them plain pasta, they didn't want grilled fish, so I gave them fried fish sticks.  They rewarded me by cleaning their plates and even asking for seconds.  Success!  Or, so I thought.

When I was little, my mother cooked things like chicken croquettes, tuna casserole and liver.  We ate what we were given and we didn't complain.  Okay, we complained, but we got spanked for it.  Totally not worth it.

This is doubly frustrating because I love to cook - and I'm really good at it.  I've spent hours making homemade meatballs, lamb chops and roasted potatoes with garlic and rosemary.  I tell them that my cooking is filled with "love."  "Can you taste the love?"  I've actually said this to them - What an idiot.

My point is that I've noticed parents provide  children with options and every time they sit down to a meal we think is wonderful and delicious, they believe there is a better alternative out there - if only they hold out. 

 Well, tomorrow I head over to my sisters and we'll spend the whole day cooking amazing dishes that fill the air with the promise of the most delicious meal of the year.  (See Pumpkin Trifle above).  I will expose my children once again to the favorites of my childhood.  And they'll resist.  I'll say "It's delicious - try it!" and they'll respond by taking the teeniest, tiniest pinpoint-sized glob on one prong of their fork and they'll extend their tongue toward it like contact will cause electrocution.  If they go back for a second "lick", I'll know they like it.  I'll dangle cookies in front of them to bribe them to taste it all in hopes that at least one dish will bring an enthusiastic response.  And maybe, just maybe, one will.

But just in case, I'll be packing some dinosaur chicken nuggets.

Stabbing is "Bad"

My child wants to stab someone and I'm a little concerned.

Out of respect for that child - and fear of losing future playdates - let's call the child "Pat".

The other day my boyfriend, Scott, was in the playroom with the kids and "Pat" said "I feel like stabbing someone."

Scott shot "Pat" a look of horror.

Pat saw the look and said "Uh-oh.  Am I in trouble?"

Scott, that hippie man of mine, didn't want to get "Pat" in trouble for her "feelings" - even if they were about maiming someone - and calmly said "No.  You're not in trouble.  I am curious though...are you angry about something?"

"No.  I just really feel like stabbing someone."

He sat "Pat" down and explained to her why stabbing is bad.  It's not right.  It could really hurt someone.  And saying you want to "stab someone" means you want to cause someone a lot of pain.  "Do you see why stabbing is wrong?  You don't really want to stab someone, do you?"

"I still want to stab someone."

Scott was out of his league  so he brought "Pat" to me.  I was in my room folding laundry and he said  "Pat has something to tell you."  Standing at the foot of my bed covered in folded laundry, I could only see the top of Pat's head and she says "I really want to stab someone."

"Pardon me?" I said.

"I really want to stab someone."

Was my kid some kind of psychopath?   Maybe she was just expressing emotions of anger.  In a world where our children are bombarded daily with easily remedied violence in the media, this was normal, right? 

We're told we shouldn't engage our children if they say "I hate you" or "I wish you were dead" or "I want to kill you." Did Pat's  laissez-faire attitude toward "stabbing someone" fall under that category?  Do I punish her for her feelings?  Squelch her freedom of speech?  I mean, wasn't she entitled to "feel" like she "wanted" to stab someone just as long as she knew she wasn't supposed to actually stab someone?  Hey, I'm divorced, I have an ex, I've been there. 

So I said to her "Why do you want to stab someone?"

"See Scott????  I told you if we told her she'd want to know "why"?"  Pat was pissed.

I looked at Scott.  Yes.  Pat was a psychopath.

Scott said "Sarah...Pat didn't want to tell you she wanted to stab someone because she knew you'd ask her "why" and she has no idea "why".

"Oh.  Well, Pat, do you know what "stabbing" means?"

Pat made an "I told you so" face to Scott and was silently tilting and jabbing the head in my direction.  Like I was the problem.

Scott explained to me that in their previous discussion in the playroom, "Pat" and he discussed what "stabbing" meant, why it was wrong, and that she didn't know "why" she felt this way.  She only knew  she wanted to stab someone.  I could see she was frustrated.

Not really knowing what to do, and trying really hard not to freak out, you know, because she hadn't actually stabbed anybody - and because letting your children express their emotions is supposed to be a "good" thing, or so they say - I said the only reasonable thing I could think of.

I asked "Are you going to stab someone?"

"No."

"You know you shouldn't."

"Yes.  I know.  But I still want to."

"Do you want to talk about anything?

She was totally exasperated with me. "No!"

"Alright.  But you're not going to...um..stab someone?"

"NO!."

"Okay then." I shrugged.  "You can go."  As she walked out of the room I added "You can talk to me if you figure out why you want to stab someone!"

"Yeah.  I know!"  She shouted from down the hall.

I'm not sure if I handled the situation the right way or if I should take her in for psychiatric evaluation, but I think I did alright.  After all...no one's bleeding.

Maybe I'll only give her plastic knives just in case.