Adventures of Millennium Mom

Huckabee v Portman and the Kick Off of 2012 Campaign Season

It feels as if we just elected a president. But no, Campaign 2012 has pretty much kicked off this week with the Fox "News" suspensions of Newt Gingrich and Rick Santorum--pending their confirming or denying their candidacies--and the following little gem from Mike Huckabee:

Video at: abcn.ws/ehUDQw

Seriously? First, Mike, did you learn nothing from the Dan Quayle v Murphy Brown catastrophe of 1992? Some of you may be too young to remember this classic political goof (the debacle of the attempted criticism, not the VP, who was also a debacle and goof--but that's another story). If so, read the original Time magazine article here. Did Huckabee really think aligning himself with Mr. Quayle was a good thing? Did he think at all? And is that a trait we want in a president?

Second, Huckabee doesn't have the criticism correct. At least Mr. Quayle was correct in the storyline, even if his opinion was more akin to the 1940s than the 1990s. Hollywood was not glamorizing Ms. Portman's pregnancy. It was awarding her an Oscar for a highly acclaimed role that she played in "Black Swan" (which I am renting when it is comes out on Netflix). Ms. Portman was definitely not pregnant in the movie (where she plays a ballerina, for god's sake). "Black Swan" has nothing to do with pregnancies. I'm surprised Huckabee didn't say something about the lesbian love scene--but maybe Mike liked it.

Huckabee has pretty much alienated a huge demographic here: single parents of all types (single mothers, single fathers, widowed mothers and fathers, deserted mothers and fathers, divorced mothers and fathers with deadbeat exes, etc.). For simplicity, because Huckabee has insulted such a large group of people, let's focus on single, never-been-married mothers for the purpose of this blog.

Single motherhood can occur by accident or on purpose. There are hundreds of thousands of successful single women who have reached the midpoint of their childbearing years without finding the man of their dreams but with the desire and knowledge that they want and can support children of their own. Thanks to sperm banks and adoption options, these women make wonderful mothers to hundreds of thousands of children. They have planned their children, cherish them and raise wonderful human beings--just like old-fashioned two-parent families.

Now we come to Huckabee's traditional view of the single mother: poor, uneducated, young who are seen as a drain on government resources. True, these young women have a struggle ahead of them--but Huckabee and his fellow stuck-in-the-1940s Republicans are doing teens and young adults absolutely no favor by cutting the budget of Planned Parenthood. Planned Parenthood provides contraceptives, STD screening and information for millions of women each year--and helps young woman from becoming Huckabee's idea of the single mother. The Republicans may be against abortion, but by coming out anti-Planned Parenthood, they are attacking one of the most effective community organizations available to young people and family planning (get it Huckabee? Planned Parenthood). By cutting Planned Parenthood's government funding, there is likely to be an increase in single parents living on government subsidies as well as an increase in the abortion rate, which has been declining annually for the past 20 years. According to one source, almost each Title X dollar saves $4 in Medicaid costs at a later date.

I'm a huge supporter of family planning. Anyone who is emotionally mature enough and financially able to support a family is a prime candidate for parenthood. By mature, I mean that person or couple is willing and eager to put their needs behind that of their children, to be responsible, loving parents and try their darnedest to raise equally responsible, loving, educated people. Mothers and fathers do not need to be married or heterosexual to succeed as a parent. There are plenty of middle-aged, middle-class, married, heterosexual couples out there who fail miserably as parents, financially and/or emotionally.

Parenthood is the absolute toughest job out there. It is not for teenagers. But we, as a society, have to give these kids the education and resources (contraceptives) they need to avoid becoming a statistic, including funding public school sex ed courses that go beyond "Just Say No" and increasing--not decreasing--the funding for Planned Parenthood and similar organizations.

As we seem to be suddenly plummeting into the muddy depths of Campaign 2012, everyone needs to remember that both sides of the political aisle have pluses and minuses. But even if moderate Republicans have some good fiscal policy ideas, the moderate Democrats will never hear those ideas over the loud voices of the far-right conservative moralists (the ones who usually end up having sex with prostitutes of either sexual persuasion). Republicans need to reign in their moral judgments and clean up their own house (that is, toss out the prostitutes and hypocrites). Democrats, we need you to focus on what we all need to hear: how to create real jobs that can support real, college-educated people who are entering the workforce by the millions each year.

(up next in Campaign 2012: What to Do After Undergrad? Grad School or McDonald's--a Higher Education Dilemma)

Writing -- The Evolving Art

For nearly 20 years, I've made a living with the written word, from catalog copy and sales letters to website content and news articles. As a parent, I've watched my three children develop as writers themselves.

At first, I was fearful that writing was a dying art. With all the interactive TV, gaming, dynamic websites and constant media barrages, not to mention the focus on math and reading in elementary school with little regard to writing, I shared the concern of other parents that our children would grow up incapable of writing a simple paragraph.

However, I do stand corrected. After observing our three children--a teenager and two pre-teens--I believe that merely through texting, IMing and Facebooking, these kids average a substantially higher number of written words per day than I ever did at that age. Perhaps they aren't putting pen to paper, but they are writing complex thoughts in (thanks to Twitter) very succinct sentences. Hello young Hemingways--good-bye wordy Faulkners.

Instead of dying out, the art of the written word is evolving, developing even beyond the "old-fashioned" e-mail. Their spelling is atrocious, and their grammar is even worse. But that isn't the fault of the new technology that commands their attention. That is our lapse as a standardized-test obsessed society, one where teaching to the test, which features math and reading but not grammar, has become the focal point of the education system.

Happily, today's tweens and teens are moving on without us or despite us. They are developing creative content for their blogs, writing their conversations through IMs and texting, and describing their world through tweets.

To best prepare them for the real world, perhaps we just need to arm them with a Webster's Ninth (ooh, I think I just dated myself), a thesaurus and a The Chicago Manual of Style, 16th Edition . Let's face it, very few people really write strictly traditional essay papers in day-to-day business nor stick with the rules of grammar that we learned in middle school. As a ad/marketing content writer, I spend most of my time drafting copy in a very chatty, consumer-friendly style that does not hold up well to grammar conventions. (I couldn't live without my em-dash).

So, armed with the power tools of the written word, I think we will see some amazing post-modern literature spring forth from this technology-raised generation.

Teenagers . . . Something the World Has in Common

"It's difficult to decide whether growing pains are something teenagers have - or are."
 ~Author Unknown

"The troubles of adolescence eventually all go away - it's just like a really long, bad cold." 
~Dawn Ruelas

My husband and I were aware going into this adolescent stage of parenting that emotions were going to run high, patience was going to run low--and nothing would run on a nice even keel. But dear god, the past few weeks have been like a trip back to the toddler years--without the benefits of putting "them" to bed at 6:30 and picking "them" up and removing them from public when they act out. Good grief, I can't even pick up the youngest any more, let alone physically remove the eldest from anything.

These are my last few minutes of peace for the day. I am writing this quickly and stealthily, before the door slams open from another day at school and another whirlwind afternoon and evening of hurricane emotions churn by, leaving our household stunned in their wake.

While preparing to write this blog, I was popping some Tylenol to battle the sinus/cold/pre-migraine stress headache that's been threatening me for more than a week. While massaging my temples and forehead--and thinking about my growing children--two quotes of my German grandmother came to mind:

"There was a little girl
who had a little curl
right in the middle of her forehead.
And when she was good, she was very good.
And when she was bad, she was horrid."

"A pimple is just the meanness coming out."

Needless to say, my own mother quoted these to me throughout my adolescence. When I repeat the phrases, I hear her voice and see her in the kitchen, wagging her long index finger at me.

And that's when it occurred to me: no matter what one's culture or religion, we all have teenagers in common. Muslims, Hindus, Catholics, Protestants, agnostics, Germans, Italians, French, Arab, Chinese . . . All around the world--and throughout time--parents have had their heads in their hands, popping headache relief medication and worrying about that unstable child creature in an adult's body that tromps through the house. 

Small children disturb your sleep, big children your life. 
~Yiddish Proverb

 Little children, headache; big children, heartache. 

~Italian Proverb

We worry about the nature of today's teenager, but even before the term "teenager" was coined, society has voiced its opinion of those in their teen years:

"When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around.  But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years."
~Mark Twain, "Old Times on the Mississippi" Atlantic Monthly, 1874

“Like its politicians and its war, society has the teenagers it deserves” ~Jason Priestley, 1733-1804

Finally, as I hear the carpool pulling up, I must close with:

"Cleaning your house while your kids are still growing up is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing." 
~Phyllis Diller

Cicadas & Summer's End

I was a very nervous, shy little girl. I was very bookish and loved learning--but I was scared of school and the teachers (back in the mid-70s teachers were not as user friendly as they are now). I dreaded my father's birthday (8/14) and by the time my brother's birthday came (8/31), I couldn't even choke down his birthday cake. I knew I'd be headed back to school after Labor Day. But the worst were the cicadas, chirping out their warning that summer's end was on its way. 

Once I hit my teens, I loved school and getting back to my friends and looked forward to a new year of excitement and adventure. But to this day, the sound of those darn cicadas still makes me cringe. 

Now, I cringe about my own children going back to school, about having to deal with new teachers--and explaining the boys' 504 plans and making sure these new teachers honor those plans. My stomach twinges now because I'm a mother and am responsible for three growing children and making sure they receive a good education and do their best. 

While my daughter does a pretty good job managing her time, studying and striving to do well, the boys with their differing types of ADHD are still a constant, emotionally exhausting struggle.

And finally, those cicadas warn me that the summer season itself is almost over. Where did this summer go? And I worry that I personally didn't take advantage of all the fleeting season has had to offer. 

On the bright side, though, when the kids return to school, I get my regular schedule back. I'll have time to work for multiple uninterrupted, productive hours. I get the family room back to do Wii fit, the weather will cool down, and I'll be able to get out and walk again. 

So, even as the cicadas sing and my stomach twinges, there is a light at the end of August.

Carpooling Boys vs Carpooling Girls

This summer, I've had the debatable pleasure of driving 8th grade theatre/dancer girls to various classes/activities. While these activities ended this week, the boys' tackle football has just started up, leading to a 4th-5th grade boy carpool. The differences are amazing.

Female Carpool:
• I'm not really suppose to talk more than, "Hi! How are you today?" "Bye--have fun!"
• Awkward silences because the girls are feuding that particular day.
• Silences because girls are texting (probably each other).
• The car is generally still at intersections. The people in it don't really move around. This is a very good thing.
• Channel surfing is king. My music is intolerable. Only select songs of their music are tolerable as any song on any given day can be rejected for being "too old" (2 months old), overplayed, or a remembrance of a recent boyfriend.
• Complaints—about other girls or boys, auditions, the current activity they are going to, etc.
• Demands—for more driving (to mall, to pool, to someone's house). Usually prefaced with "Mom, I need to be at [blank] at noon." or "Mom, you need to take me/us to [blank]."
• Generally dealing with very clean people who smell good (lots of fruity smelling body sprays).

Male Carpool:
• I'm allowed to talk (although I try not to speak, too much, and I have to try not to laugh at them out loud). In fact, they even ask me questions! "Did you like this song (a DuranDuran song) when you were a kid?"
• Never a dull or silent moment! They sing with the radio, they discuss silly or deep topics. Sometimes they make silliness of deep topics (talking bacon that must eventually be eaten after they have made millions showing it off to the public. Is there a heaven for talking bacon?).
• No back-stabbing so far with these guys. Talk about other guys is usually centered on what cool gadget, bike, phone or mp3 player another guy has acquired.
• There is a lot of energy here. These boys exude energy just trying to sit. My minivan bounces around at intersections. So far, no one has gone airborne!
• Channel requests come up, but so far the boys pretty much like my music. Earlier in the week, I had four guys singing loudly to Bon Jovi's "Livin' on a Prayer"!
• I haven't had to do pick up from football yet. By judging what my boys smell like when they get home, though, we are not talking fruity bodyspray here. We are talking sweaty, funky-smelling preadolescents.
• And dirt. I've been advised to by tarps and seat covers for those days when it rains.

We'll see as the football season continues how these guys grow and change emotionally. Hopefully, as they age, they will remain the happy, friendly, polite people they are. And the girls . . . someday they will relax again, allow the moms to talk, and settle in on one radio channel. But by then, they'll have their own licenses.

Tomorrow I Become the Mother of a Teenager!

 
 

As of tomorrow, I will be the mother of a teenager. Where did the time go? How did that tiny little baby girl turn into a young woman only an inch shorter than I? Did we really grow that? I remember studying her tiny little pinky toes and the even tinier little pinky toenails when she was a newborn babe and being awed that we created her (and very concerned about the very BIG THING that we'd undertaken). And as the weeks went by, I was shocked that she nursed and grew, nursed and grew. We really "grew" that baby ourselves. With love and mother's milk, that tiny infant was not just growing but flourishing. Yes, we were successful dog and cat owners--but I was/am notorious at killing houseplants. Yet, here, we were growing a baby girl. 

With love and food, more love and food, some toilet training and education, we have grown a teenager. God have mercy on our souls. And God bless and keep her as she takes on the increasing responsibility of growing herself emotionally, intellectually and individually. 

She is our oldest, our "guinea pig" child. Often she has proclaimed, "but you didn't let me do that at his age" regarding one of her brothers. I will look at her and sigh, "I know, dear, but you are our great experiment. You came first. We can only learn as we go." Thankfully, she is usually cool with this. 

To be totally truthful, when I was pregnant with her, before the ultrasound that told us she was most definitely a girl, I really believed she was a girl. I wanted a baby girl so bad that I believed her into one. I also wanted a healthy baby--but being new to the game and the miracle of a healthy delivery and baby, I really wanted a girl. Someone who I could understand as my first. As my mother often says, "Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it." Yes, I got a healthy baby girl, who I generally understand. But where I was shy at her age, she is confident and outgoing. Where I cringed before public speaking and speech team, she is an experienced stage actress and dancer. I was awed and scared of my parents. She meets us head on. I was an academic. She cares but puts it in perspective. I can't sing to save my soul. She has a soprano that would impress Verdi and Puccini. No boy could care less about me at her age. She has them trailing her from here to kingdom come. I was a tiny 5' at her age, weighing about 85 to 90 lbs tops but always had a "tummy". I was always a one-piece gal. She waltzes off to the pool in a bikini that shakes me to the core. Urgh. I got what I asked for--yet she delights me in every smile, every hug (which come less and less), and in just being her. 

Now, see that below? That's me at the beginning--and then at the beginning of this month. Note the creases and crevices forming on my face. That's what 13 years of parenting have done to me. Each crease is a concern. Each crevice is a worry. I have 10 more until everyone (children 1 thru 3) are out of their teens. What will those years do to me?? 

 

Psychotic Summer Schedules

This is the first year in many, many years that all three of my children are not enrolled in any day camps. With them turning 10, 11 and 13 this summer, I idealized dropping them off at the pool each day, lazy summer evenings outside with their friends, and a few activity-related classes--and plenty of time for me to deal with my freelance work. 

?????Was I flippin' INSANE???? 

Instead, here is a sample of my day yesterday: 

 8:00am - Flush 13 (as of next week) yo DD out of bed. 
 8:30am - Push DD out of door for her to (gasp!) walk to her summer pre-Algebra math class 
8:30-10:45am - I have a chance to work! 
10:45am - Pick up DD from the middle school. Bring home. I work. 
11:15am - Drop DD and DS#2 off at the middle school ("I don't want to walk againnnn", states DD) for her voice & his guitar lessons 
Noon - Go to fix bag lunch for DD to eat on way to theatre intensive. Realize the DSs have eaten all the bread while I've been doing the above. Crap. 
12:30pm - Pick up DD and DS from above class. DD is peeved about the sandwich. Before she can continue I hiss, "Burger King chicken nuggets." 
12:35pm - Drop DS#2 back off at house. 
12:40pm - Pick up Chicken Nuggets and continue to pick up DD's friend who is also in theatre intensive. 
12:44pm - DD's friend's mom comes out with friend (crap, again--I forgot that we were dropping girls and having lunch). I smile and pretend like I knew all along that we were having lunch. 
1:00pm - Drop girls and have lunch with friend at Panera (watch money and calories--go for Thai Chicken salad. Save on calories, watch money disappear). 
2:00pm - Drop my friend off, rush home to see if boys are starving. No, they've eaten all the rest of the fruit. OK. Work until 3:45. 
3:45pm - Rush out door to go pick up girls from Piven Theatre. 
4:15pm - Collapse. Pour wine. Finish e-mails for the day. 

7:30pm - Throw some pasta together. Finish bottle of wine. 

Time for exercise? Nope. Time for walk outside? Maybe, but 500 degrees with humidity. 

This repeats until early August, every Tuesday. Wednesdays and Thursdays aren't much better. Thank goodness that Mondays & Fridays basically rock (one activity per day!) 

In the meantime, I try to work, work as quickly as I can. I squeak under work deadlines, meeting the absolute drop dead deadlines by mere seconds. I haven't had time to bill clients. The dishes pile up (why is it that everyone disappears when there are dishes and laundry to be done). My husband is complaining that he can't find black socks. The boys can't find white socks and are roaming around like lunatics in shorts and black socks (hmmm). 

Summertime -- gotta love it.