Scribbling Dame

Preposterous Pondering.

Performance Management July 3, 2013

I had a realization. Some parents really care A LOT about how their kids perform.

I know this isn’t a grand revelation–I’ve heard of Tiger Moms and Helicopter Parents and Stage Moms, etc., but I’ve been going along in my own little world just trying to keep the kids alive, have a self identity and a good marriage so I haven’t really had the opportunity to see it in action.

Until last week. At the rec center tennis camp. I put my kid in summer rec center camps because I was scared to be alone with her all day all summer. Plus add in the crazy little one and I’m outnumbered. No way.

So she did tiny-tot beginner tennis camp last week. This was a thirty-minute-a-day “camp” for four total days. Hardly what I’d call professional tennis training.

I’d watch Sofia try and tap into her hand eye coordination, realizing that, like her parents, it’s highly likely that she’ll get academic scholarships over athletic ones. Sometimes she’d connect the racket with the ball, and the other 50% of the time she’d miss, and pirouette with her racket like the point of the move was actually to twirl and the ball was a footnote in her actions. She was a clown and I liked her flair, and most importantly to me she seemed to be having fun.

Three of the four kids in the class were similar in skill to Sofia and one little guy was pretty good. Yet I realized at the end of the class, I was the only one who didn’t care that Sofia wasn’t good at tennis. The other parents seemed genuinely distressed and distraught, which is a puzzle to me: what did they expect would happen in 30 minutes over four days for $24?

This is probably not going to be Sofia.

This is probably not going to be Sofia.

Don’t get me wrong–if my kid was the best in her class I’d make sure everyone knew she was my future tennis star, but the fact that she is probably a regular old goofy five year-old makes me just as happy. The last thing I want is for my kid to be incapable of having fun, because she is worried too much about being the best. The same goes for me.

How my kid performs does not directly reflect my worth as a parent. How my kid handles how she performs does.

Chillax people. It’s just tiny tots tennis camp. Your kid will not be a crack whore or car salesman if they have to retake the same level next week. Promise.

 

How to Control Stoplights May 20, 2013

I have learned the following tried and true secrets for mastering stoplights. It doesn’t matter what city or even what car you are in–these facts will still hold true.

If you want to GET A GREEN LIGHT EVERYTIME, try these two tricks;

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  1. Do anything on your phone. Trying to get anything done at a red light will ensure its green-ness.
  2. Try giving your child in the backseat anything they need to prevent them from crying such as a toy or a snack. You will soon master the one-handed-steering with non-driving-hand-reach-and-back-arch to the nether regions of your backseat gymnastics move.

If you want to CATCH EVERY RED LIGHT, put a screaming baby in the car. The louder the baby, the farther from home you probably are. This means more red lights.

With these simple steps. you too can be master of your own traffic domain.

 

Dog or Baby? April 24, 2013

Filed under: Lessons in Parenting — Scribbling Dame @ 10:50 am
Tags: , , , , , , ,

It’s been a while. I’m working on an amazing project–soon to be announced. I’m going to be a more attentive blogger again–promise.

My first-born is Chachi. He is a 6 year-old Havanese and he taught me almost everything I needed to know about parenting, roughly a year before I became one for reals. You may think this is reaching, but the below quiz will confirm that if you are considering a baby, a dog is a great first step that is near identical to parenting a human child.

I bring you the quiz “Dog or Baby?” Your challenge is to read each statement and determine if it was achieved by a dog, a baby, or both in my household. Good luck.

  1. Ate so many sticks off the floor leading to projectile vomiting all over my couch. Dog or baby?
  2. Growls incessantly. Dog or baby?
  3. Withholds poop when parents go away for extended periods of time. Dog or baby?
  4. Needs a drink from mommy’s bathroom every night before bed. Dog or baby?
  5. Does not believe Daddy is in charge. Dog or baby?
  6. Does not believe Mommy is in charge. Dog or baby?
  7. Farts all damn day. Dog or baby?
  8. Wakes up religiously at 6 a.m. due to starvation or thirst. Dog or baby?
  9. Loves to spoon, especially to fall asleep. Dog or baby?
  10. Licks everything. Dog or baby?

Answer key:

Baby,Both,Dog,Dog,Dog,Baby,Both,Both,Dog,Baby

In some ways, my dog is the devoted snuggly baby I’ve always wanted, and the baby is the adventurous goofy dog I always wanted. Huh. 🙂

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Don’t let these cute faces fool you…

 

Where Schrodinger’s Cat takes a Dump… March 6, 2013

For those of you not up on quantum theory, see Wikipedia. My blog title will be way funnier then…

Nothing distorts time like being a parent. It is akin to going to the currency office and trading in a minute, an hour, a day, a year, in exchange for some completely foreign mystery measurement of time. Since currency exchange is kind of like math and I hate that stuff, I have conveniently provided you with some simple translations.

An hour becomes 7 days:

  • While at the gym when you realize that you have had your ass handed to you and are simultaneously realizing you are only 10 minutes into the class.
  • Waiting for the sitter to show up: you are so close to freedom yet so far.
  • Waiting until bedtime, which is when you can have a marriage, a personal life, maybe even some alone time if you are privileged.

Three hours becomes 10 seconds:

  • This is date night. You’ve actually been gone for hours but it never feels this short when you are taking care of the kiddos…
  • Planning to leave the house with your children. You swear you started the process of evacuating with so much advance time, yet you are still mysteriously running late.
  • Realizing your baby isn’t a newborn/baby/toddler/kid anymore. Weren’t they just born? Now they do things and have opinions.
  • Realizing that’s how much sleep you are getting for the night. Following somebody else’s body clock is a bitch.

I won’t even get into how the time warp effects the aging process…at least not while I’m blogging in a cafe and not a bar.

 

Tiny Assassins February 18, 2013

Filed under: Lessons in Parenting — Scribbling Dame @ 10:43 pm
Tags: , , , , , ,

I really really love my kids. I cannot imagine my life without them and I cannot think of anything else in this world that comes close to the joy they give me.

That being said, sometimes I think they are miniature hitmen out to kill my husband and I. It’d be the perfect cover: enter the world as a cherubic being, live in the house so the marks grow to love you to the ends of the earth, and then BAM. Take ’em out.

This is the only logical explanation I can come up with for the predictability in how children can slowly chip away at their parents sanity and health. Here are some classic examples of slow parent death techniques:

–Normally awesome sleeping children will inevitably employ the world’s worst night of sleep on 1) Sunday nights or 2) the night before anything really important that you need all your faculties for (read: early morning travel or work presentation).

–In a moment of being unprepared, and trying to live life like a regular person without 15 pounds of child gear attached to your person, your child will need said gear. This means a huge leaky poop when there are no diapers or spare clothes, a sneeze fitting a Giant when there is no tissue, sanitizer or baby wipes, and starvation when you chanced it and decided not to bring a bottle.

–At the moment you feel you can no longer muster the energy to live, your children will give you the flu that they had a minor case of, but you will have it in third-world country intensity.

–Your children will want nothing to eat unless you are trying to eat it. Then they will be very hungry, and only for the food they can take off of your plate.

If you do not identify with at least one of the above scenarios, you either do not have children or you are a robot. I’ll see you next time. If I live long enough to tell another tale…

 

How Moms go to the Bathroom January 16, 2013

Filed under: Mommy Issues,Vagina — Scribbling Dame @ 11:32 pm
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Not pictured: dog.

No words necessary.

No words necessary.

 

Seedy Mom Hangouts

I’m back from writing vacation. Thanks for your patience.

As a mom, there are a lot of things I would never have done as a non-mom. Wiping asses, picking boogers and watching Dora are among them. Okay–you got me–I don’t watch Dora. That voice makes me want to kill myself.

The evil is real.

The evil is real.

Anyway, it occurred to me that there are plenty of places I would never spend my time before, that I now consider part of the mom experience. They aren’t actually “seedy” but they are definitely not places I will keep hanging out once the kiddos  are grown, unless something goes severely awry with my life plans…or my husband’s vasectomy.

1) Parking lots. I hang out in my car in parking lots all the time. The cart lady at Target totally knows me. Sounds fun right? It totally is, at least when compared to the fun of waking up your sleeping baby and then dealing with their cranky no-nap shit fest. I listen to the radio, rest my eyes, catch up on email (thank God for Smartphones) and generally people watch.

2) McDonald’s “Funland” playground. For an Oregon mom on a rainy day this can be a lifesaver. Yeah there are germs and bratty kids but there is also a free indoor playground and fries. Don’t judge me–we don’t go all the time.

3)Ikea. They have free daycare for an hour if your kid is potty-trained. Do I shop? Not usually. I’ll go sit in the cafe and have a snack, or find a nice living room set up and test out the couch, all in blissful silence. I have even had friends go there for a cheap date night.

4) The mall. During the day time, this is no place for teenagers. It’s all olds and mommies. There’s food there, and long walkways for your children to tire themselves on, and if you are lucky there’s even a play area. Again, inside, away from crap January weather.

Where are your seedy mom hangouts?

 

 
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