Archive for the ‘family’ Category

10 Jul

I Left My Baby On a Train!

Posted by I suck as a parent in boys, children, family, humor, kids, letting go, motherhood, parenting, train travel, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , .

Ok, I didn’t actually leave my baby on a train. It was my 13-year-old and I didn’t leave him anywhere; I put him on a commuter train heading for the safety of camp in the northern suburbs of Chicago.

Still, as the train pulled away from the station, it sure felt like I placed my newborn on the train and let him go.

It was like that Subaru commercial with the dad who is giving his car keys to his older daughter but instead of a mature teenager all he sees is a little girl in the driver’s seat.

What was I thinking??

Even my husband (he of the “let’s send our kids to summer camp for eight weeks and not have any communication with them” mindset) couldn’t believe that I let our son take the train! WTF?? I thought he would see this as a huge step toward independence.

It didn’t help that I kept replaying scenes from movies over and over in my head as I drove home from the train station.

Have you seen the movie, Source Code? The Jake Gyllenhaal movie where the northbound commuter train in Chicago explodes over and over again? Yes, that scene kept popping up.

Followed very closely by the scene from the movie, Unstoppable, where Chris Pine and Denzel Washington are desperately trying to stop a train from hurtling off the edge of the train tracks as it races toward a sharp bend in the tracks. (Clearly I have to stop watching late night television).

I fretted for a while, wondering if he actually made it to camp then realized, if there really was a problem, I would have gotten a call from the counselor who meets my son and his friend at the train every morning (or at least I would have seen something on the morning news, right?).

Then it hit me: what I was most afraid of when I put him on that train is not that he would end up as the victim of some crazy Hollywood movie plot; it was that he wouldn’t need me anymore.

The more independent my “baby” gets the less he will need me…and then he will be gone.

With my 17-year-old just a year away from leaving for college (and basically gone most of the time already) my youngest is the only one I have left to take care of (unless you count my husband and the dog and my 17-year-old when he is home, but you get the point).

Letting go of my 13-year-old means just that—letting go and not knowing what will happen or where he is or what he is doing. It’s scary…

…and, yet, surprisingly easy to get used to.

Let me explain.

The first couple of days I walked him down to the platform and admonished him to stay behind the yellow line. I waited for his friend to meet him but not for the train to actually show up (I watched for that from the bridge, out of his line of sight).

By the third day I found the walk down to the platform to be unnecessary. His friend will show up, I reasoned. Besides, it’s not like he wanted to sit and chat with me while we waited.

photo

He can’t get away fast enough

Day Four:

My alarm goes off at 6:45 am and my first thought is: why can’t he just ride his bike to the train?

What a difference four days make…

12 Jun

Parenting is Like Your Senior Year in High School

Posted by I suck as a parent in boys, children, family, homework, humor, kids, motherhood, parenting, senioritis, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , , , , .

Do you remember suffering from senioritis as a student: those final weeks when you couldn’t wait for high school/college/grad school to end so you could get on with the rest of your life?

I think I’m suffering from the parenting equivalent.

I know that unlike high school/college/grad school, the parenting gig doesn’t end (as my cousin once said to me “once you have kids you always have kids”) but the apathy that I have been feeling towards my parental duties is highly reminiscent of those days when I could not bring myself to finish another study guide or research paper.

Sure, eventually I would slog through the notes and the reviews and the essays in school, but I remember doing so with no enthusiasm and wondering when the drudgery would end.

Kinda how I feel about parenting right now.

I swear if I have to pack another lunch/drive another carpool/sign another form, I’ll lose my mind.

Which is why I have not been able to write a single blog about how I’ve sucked as a parent, because everything I’ve done kinda sucks.

The other day my 13-year-old’s dinner consisted of a Frappuccino from Starbucks, some Oreos and a large bag of Sun Chips (at least it was the veggie kind). He may have had a cheese stick, too, but I don’t remember…I was too busy reading People magazine.

I couldn’t even bring myself to yell at my 17-year-old for slacking off on his finals! He and his girlfriend were “studying” for physics and I heard a great deal of laughing. Laughing! Physics is not something to laugh about – unless you are on a roller coaster – and yet they were giggling and I knew that nothing was getting done. I could not muster up one “Have you learned anything yet??!!” because I was catching up on episodes of Lost.

The good news is, in school, if you succumb to the effects of senioritis there could be real consequences. A recent New York Times post listed the potential pitfalls of slacking off as a senior in high school: losing your spot, having to explain yourself to the administration or worse, losing a scholarship.

Thankfully, for me, the consequences of my slacking off are far less dire. First, my children are old enough so they really can fend for themselves. Eventually even my carb-loving youngest child would scramble an egg or eat some yogurt. Heck, he might even be motivated enough to get his brother to take him out to eat! And my oldest would eventually suck it up and do his homework, probably even more so because I’m not nagging him.

I also have a husband who helps pick up my slack, as long as it has nothing to do with talking to our kids about sex or telling our 17-year-old that he can’t have his girlfriend in his bedroom – at which point he will run away and is no help at all.

I assume this monotony will eventually end and be replaced with exciting parenting duties like driving to-and-from camp and planning college visits. Until then I will stock the fridge with heat-and-serve dinners and take the lock off my older son’s door. And, finish watching Lost. I only have four more seasons to go…

19 Apr

Go Away*

Posted by I suck as a parent in family, humor, kids, motherhood, parenting, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , .

“I can’t wait to go to college!” my 17-year-old proclaimed.

Finally, I thought. I was so excited that I completely ignored the fact that he finished the sentence with: “…so I can get away from YOU!”

All I heard was HE CAN’T WAIT TO GO TO COLLEGE!

Whatever the driving force may be, I don’t care – he wants to leave!

I was worried for a while that I was making his life too easy and he would never want to go to college. He doesn’t need to set an alarm clock because I happily (?!) climb up and down the stairs every morning for at least a half-an-hour begging him to get out of bed. He’s never had to make his own dinner (if food is not prepared he’ll graze until he can get the car keys and go out to eat); and his sheets and clothes are (surprise!) always clean when he needs them.

Why would he want to leave?? (And more importantly, what is wrong with me??)

I know most adults would never leave a place where they are catered to, waited on and downright worshipped, so why would a teen?

But I have finally hit on the best way to get your kids to leave: annoy them, harass them, remove their bedroom door if you have to, whatever it is just do it and let them move out.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my kids. But I really, really, really want them to go to college – preferably a college that requires a 3-4 hour plane ride from home. Of course I will miss them but I will see them again – there are lots of breaks from school where they can come home, sleep late, visit their friends and borrow our car. Breaks that are just long enough to remind me that I want them to become productive members of society so they can move into their own homes and do their own laundry.

When we first started discussing college with our son, I didn’t really think that I would need to sell him on the idea of going away. It’s college! It’s freedom! It’s fun! But he just didn’t seem to grasp that.

We wanted to show him college students having fun (no, not playing beer pong or doing shots off of a co-eds belly) so we sent him to a college football game. Take my advice: If you are trying to sell your kid on the idea that college kids have SO MUCH FUN then don’t let him go to a football game on a rainy 43–degree day with his dad, uncle and grandfather and make him sit in the stands until the end of the game even though the final score is 83-10.

He won’t even look at a Big 10 school now.

We tried other tactics like stopping at a college that “just happened to be on our way” to our destination and scheduling college visits with his friends but nothing motivated him…until we demanded that he give up his phone at 11:00 pm every night.

Now he can’t wait to get away. Who knew?

I have to wield this new power wisely though. I don’t want to tighten our rules so much that we find him climbing out the window in the middle of the night to flee from the tyranny. No, I will pull out the demands only when I find him getting a little too comfortable in our home like when he plops himself on a stool at the counter and says “breakfast,” or when he’s out of clothes and asks me when I’m going to finish his laundry.

Then all bets are off…

 

*I’ve been holding on to this piece for the past couple of days because it seemed contrary to what I was feeling since the bombing incidents in Boston. This blog post is about wanting my kid to “Go Away” but on Monday I was prepared to have both of my kids live with me forever if it meant I could protect them from random acts of violence. But with a few day’s distance I remembered that no matter where my kids are I will worry about them. It doesn’t matter if they are running down the stairs too quickly at home or driving home from college, I will worry. If I tried to protect them from everything I wouldn’t allow them to go to the movies or a shopping mall without me and they wouldn’t be allowed to participate in largely populated events, teach children in elementary schools or even attend college. And those are only the events of the past year and a half. And so, it is with that in mind, that I can say my kid will leave home and I will worry but it is the way it’s supposed to be.

10 Mar

Happy Birthday to Me?

Posted by I suck as a parent in children, family, humor, kids, motherhood, parenting, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , , , , .

Yesterday was my older son’s 17th birthday and I spent the day shopping…for me.

I hadn’t picked out a gift for my son yet and yes, it was on my mind as I lunched with a couple of friends and meandered through over-priced niche stores, but it didn’t stop me from shopping for me. And why would it?

The more I thought about it, the more sense it made to me that I should be getting gifts for bringing life to my child. Why wasn’t my husband buying me presents to thank me for giving birth to—and raising—his oldest child? Sure, he did that after our son was born but why stop there??

And grandparents? Where were my gifts?  Shouldn’t they be showering me with gifts as well? My contribution to this endeavor has brought them 17 years of joy beyond anything they could possibly have imagined and yet, I have never been appropriately thanked…with presents, that is.

The day didn’t start out as a shopping trip for me. As I set out in the morning I was actually a bit obsessed with finding my kid the perfect gift (especially since the day was upon us and I was empty-handed).

But when I found myself at the perfume counter at Barney’s, I knew I was no longer shopping for him. Yes, I made a good showing of trying to find him some after-shave but Barney’s doesn’t carry Axe and I wasn’t really going to spend fifty bucks on aftershave for a 17-year-old.

I’m not suggesting that you skip your child’s birthday celebration and make it all about you. No, your kid should have gifts and cake and celebrate with friends and family.

But raising kids is a thankless job—we’ve all heard that before—and it doesn’t really have to be. If no one is going to thank you why not give yourself a little treat on your child’s birthday. Why not spend the afternoon celebrating with friends – preferably at a nice lunch followed by a Sprinkles Chai Latte cupcake?

It really doesn’t have to cost anything, though. It could simply be the gift of time: time to read a book, or take a nap or go for a walk…but new perfume doesn’t hurt either.

6 Feb

Running Bases

Posted by I suck as a parent in boys, children, family, kids, parenting, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , , , , .

“I started my friend on a run today,” my 12-year-old told me as we made our way past the deli section at our neighborhood grocery store.

“A run?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

“With a girl he likes,” he replied.

“I don’t get it,” I said.

He looked at me, eyebrows raised, a knowing smile playing across his face, “You know, running to first base, second base, third base…”

WTF??

I was frozen to the spot and not because I was in the ice cream aisle.

He’s 12!

And I’m his mom!!  Who says that to his mom??!

There is no way he understands what he just said, I thought. No way that my baby would be so intentionally crude in the frozen food section of the local grocery store.

“Do you know what that means?” I asked him as I reached for the ice cream (I couldn’t look at him and besides, I was going to need a lot of chocolate if his answer was yes).

“Of course,” he said.

“Where did you hear that?” I asked. I’m going to ground his older brother for life!! 

“TV,” he responded casually, not at all aware of the visions his comments were forcing me to have.

What kind of TV is my husband letting him watch??!

I turned to face him.

“Do you know what all the bases stand for?’ I asked.

“Whadda ya mean, stand for?” he asked warily.

“Sex,” I spat, probably a little louder than I intended because at least three people turned in my direction and glared at me.

“Sex?” my son repeated.  Now more people were staring.  “No, no,” he stammered. “It’s not sex. It means dating. It’s a homerun when the girl will go out with you.”

“No, it’s about sex,” I said matter-of-factly.

“Stop!” he yelled, covering his ears. “No, no, no. Stop talking about it!”

He raced ahead of me to the check out line.

Whew!  I thought. My kid isn’t a clueless little creep after all.

Despite the embarrassing stares from the toddler-toting set picking up their last-minute dinner supplies I felt pretty good about our little chat. And then it hit me…I just gave him something to think about! He was probably going to ask me what the bases were!

I put down the chocolate bar and headed for the wine department. This would definitely require something a bit stronger.

15 Jan

Endless Possibilities

Posted by I suck as a parent in family, kids, parenting, Uncategorized.

I let my kid watch 13 straight hours of television over winter break.

That’s right. 13 hours. In one day.

Don’t judge. He was sick. Actually, we were all sick, and when you are achy and sneezy and just plain blah, mindless TV is all that you have.

But as we sat huddled together on the couch, wrapped in blankets and sharing the last Kleenex box I had an epiphany: TV is more than just an idiot box. Yes, there are plenty of examples of idiocy—Honey Boo Boo springs to mind, as does everyone on The Jersey Shore and anything with the name Kardashian in it—but TV also lets you believe that anything is possible (and I don’t mean that it’s possible for a redneck child to land a TV deal).

My son spent his 13+ hours watching the entire second season of the television show, Chuck. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this television series the premise is that the show’s namesake, Chuck, is a brilliant but underachieving nerd who works at the equivalent of a Best Buy until he gets all of the NSA’s and the CIA’s secrets programmed into his head. Eventually,he becomes an amazing CIA agent who fights crime and gets the beautiful girl to fall in love with him.

When I watch the show I laugh that all of the female spies look like super models and I wonder how all of the employees of the store where Chuck works are incompetent but they still get to keep their jobs. My son, on the other hand, doesn’t notice the ridiculousness of the situations. He just thinks, why not:

Why can’t a gorgeous woman, who’s wearing a leather cat suit and four-inch heels, take on five terrorists with a plastic fork?

and

Why can’t someone build a computer program that would allow one person to carry the nation’s security secrets in his brain?

This, of course, leads him to ask:  why can’t I be the one to build this super computer…with my friend…in our basement?

He’s not thinking about how much work he will need to do or how long it will take. He just wants to be the first human with a computer in his head.

My first impulse—always—is to point out all of the difficulties my kids will encounter when they try to bring an idea to life instead of pointing out all of the possibilities. For instance, I want to point out that my son can’t possibly build a computer that holds all of the nation’s secrets because a) he doesn’t know enough about computers, b) he knows nothing about neuroscience and c) why would anyone in his right mind think it’s a good idea to put the nation’s secrets into one person’s head??

I am such a killjoy.

But as I lay in my NyQuil-induced fog contemplating how I’ve utterly failed to encourage my children’s creative processes, I stumbled on an article entitled “Be Wrong As Fast As You Can,” from last Sunday’s New York Times Magazine. The author, Hugo Lindgren, recounted the number of brilliant ideas he had that he was never able to bring to life. “It’s really about where you take the idea, and how committed you are to solving the endless problems that come up in the execution,” Mr. Lindgren wrote.

Did Mr. Lindgren have a mom like me, I wondered? Was his mom also too quick to jump in and try to solve her kids’ problems before they had a chance to see if they even could work through the difficulties on their own??

And just like that, I realized that those “endless problems” are going to happen whether I bring them up or not. I might as well let my kids slam up against the difficulties to see not just how committed they are to the project and, more importantly, how resourceful they are at solving the problems. If I jump in too early they may never know what they are capable of.

So, I will allow him to tinker with the computer in an effort to create a program that he can one day download into his brain. Maybe he will learn more about computers (or at least finish assembling the pile of computer parts in his bedroom) or maybe he will learn more about the human brain. And, if none of that works out, maybe he can write a television show about his efforts.

See, TV is full of possibilities.

22 Dec

The Anger Stage of Grief

Posted by I suck as a parent in children, family, kids, parenting, Uncategorized.

My husband and I were out of the country last weekend celebrating our 20-year wedding anniversary. It was a last minute, whirlwind trip that I was really excited for. I was excited to leave the kids behind—no lunches, no homework battles, no bedtime fights.

Just adult time.

But then, on Friday night, after a long day away from televisions, newspapers, radio and WiFi we returned to our hotel and heard the news about the shootings in Newtown, Connecticut. At that point I wanted to hear my kids bicker and fight—because I still could.

News of the events was everywhere: every television station and newspaper, whether in French or English, broadcast the details and debated America’s lack of effective gun control laws; we watched European soccer where the teams wore black armbands in memory of the victims; people in shops and cafes asked us about the tragedy.

I was grateful that we were out of town so my kids couldn’t see me cry and I couldn’t obsess about where my children were and what they were doing.There is nowhere that I think that they are safe from crazed gunmen anymore. I worry when they go to movies without me or when they go to the mall.

I’ve always worried about school shootings. We moved to a neighborhood where a woman shot several elementary school children. I actually thought that our kids would be safer living in this neighborhood because the odds that someone would commit a similar crime in the same school district seemed in our favor. How ridiculous is it that I even had that thought?

Every now and then I think about our high school choice. We moved from a neighborhood that I loved because I didn’t want my kids going to a high school where the students had to enter through metal detectors. Now I’m thinking that the added security would be a bonus. Again, how ridiculous is it that I even have these thoughts?

I’m not being flip, but why do these murders kill themselves after they’ve shot others? Is it because, as my husband thinks, they’ve suddenly had a moment of clarity when they realize what they’ve done or is it because they know they’ve been caught? I don’t care what the reason is, why can’t they do it before they kill anyone. Does that seem harsh? So does killing 20 innocent little children.

Clearly, after a week, I’ve moved into the anger stage of grieving. I think I’ll be here a long time.

27 Nov

Bathroom Humor

Posted by I suck as a parent in boys, children, family, kids, parenting, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , .

I’m writing this from my bathroom.

No, I’m not actually using the bathroom–I’m hiding.

It’s the only place in my house that I know that none of my boys (my husband included) will enter for fear that I may actually be using the space for its intended purpose (well, our dog always tries to come in, but he knows no boundaries).

See, I need my own space (especially during a long holiday weekend) and this is something that my men folk just don’t get. My job is to always be available for them and therefore, I should never be too far or too occupied to fulfill my duties as a doting wife and mother. But everyone needs a bathroom break so that’s my excuse. Of course, no one needs as many bathroom breaks as I pretend to—at least not without a serious medical issue—but they haven’t caught on yet. (Or if they have none of them is willing to take a chance.)

I don’t even have a very large bathroom to stretch out in. Our master bathroom is not the largest bathroom in our house and there are no oversized ottomans or attached walk in closets with comfy seats for me to perch on for extended periods of time. No, if I want to read or write or simply be alone I have a small stool (no pun intended) to sit on. This plays into my husband’s hands because if I was too comfortable he knows that I would never leave.

My husband has his home office (and his head because he is able to tune out everyone no matter where he is sitting), my kids have their bedrooms and the basement and the loft and who am I kidding, they have anywhere they happen to be sitting because that’s what kids do- they take over. But me? I can’t find a quiet spot in my house to call my own.

We don’t have an enormous house but it certainly isn’t a studio apartment either so you would think that if I wanted to have a phone conversation while standing in the kitchen my boys could find another spot in which to fight over the chocolate-covered popcorn. Apparently, they can’t. So I move.

But they follow me.

Even if I try to hide in the walk-in pantry or the laundry room they follow me (I thought they would avoid the laundry room on the off chance that I would make them help with the laundry but, apparently, that threat is not enough of a deterrent). The only place that they can’t (ok, won’t) follow me into is the bathroom.

So here I am. In the bathroom. Hiding.

Virginia Woolf wrote about the importance of a room of one’s own if a woman wanted to write. I don’t think she meant the bathroom but she would probably agree that it’s better than nothing.

So after I finish this I think I’ll do some Cyber Monday holiday shopping. I still have a few more minutes before they begin to suspect anything.

Like this post?? Let someone know!

 

6 Nov

Parenting Disconnect

Posted by I suck as a parent in boys, children, family, kids, parenting, payphones, reading a map, teaching. Tagged: , , , , , , , , .

Of all the things that I thought I would need to teach my children, using a payphone never broke the top 500.

Why would I need to teach them to use a payphone? Doesn’t the phone have instructions written on it? Who doesn’t know how to use a payphone?

But then I read an article in the Wall Street Journal about how New Yorkers needed pay phones due to the spotty cell phone service and lack of power in the wake of Hurricane Sandy’s recent devastation. Apparently, many 20-somethings had never used a payphone before and they weren’t sure what to do.

I was appalled at first but the more I thought about it the more I realized that I have not needed to use a payphone in over 20 years so why would someone 20 years my junior need to?

And, more importantly, why would my kids need to use one?

In the time it would take my kids to find a working pay phone they could ask someone to use a cell phone unless, like the people in New York and New Jersey, there was no cell service or no electricity to charge their phones.  I know that my kids would figure it out but it made me realize that what I needed to explain was the finer points of making a collect call (because, really, who has change for a call anyway?).  I don’t think my kids have ever needed to call an operator or even know what an operator does.

To test my theory, I just asked my 12-year-old how to call the operator:

Me: “If you needed to call the phone operator what would you do?”

My Kid: “Why would I need to call the operator?”

Me:  “Humor me. What would you do?”

Kid: “I guess I would push ‘O’. But why?”

Me:  “What if you didn’t have any money but you needed to make a phone call?”

Kid: “Why would I need money to make a phone call?”

Me: “What if you didn’t have a charged cell phone?”

Kid: “I would ask someone if I could borrow theirs.”

Me: “What if you weren’t with anyone and you needed to use a payphone?”

Kid: “Where would I find a payphone? Couldn’t I just find a store that is open and ask them to use the phone? I’m a kid, they would let me.”

At least I know he’s thinking.

All of this made me wonder about all of the other things that I never thought that I would need to teach my kids. I don’t mean programming the VHS recorder or slicing a mango with just a knife,

I’m talking about skills that I never thought my kids would need given our technological advancements but maybe I should teach them anyway. Here are just a few:

  1. How to read a map. My kids think that GPS is all you need but there have been plenty of times when the very pleasant voice on my phone is telling me to turn left but doing so would land me in someone’s front yard. Besides, as we all know, cell service is not a given.
  2. How to use an encyclopedia (and do research) that is not on-line. I know this is something they should learn at school but I swear I haven’t seen my kids go to the library to do research since 2nd grade. Besides, I love encyclopedias. I used to read them for fun (seriously). Using a microfiche machine would also fall into this category.
  3. How to use a phone book. My kids probably don’t know where they are or why they would use one when they have access to computers, smart phones and tablets. But what if they are stuck at a diner/gas station/truck stop in the middle of nowhere and they need to use a payphone to call for a hotel room/ tow truck/food delivery? Yes, they can read so, yes, they could figure it out but forcing them to look up a number in the phone book might not be such a bad thing.
  4. How to use a fax machine. My 12-year-old and I were watching the movie, Air Force One, and one of the characters used a fax machine to send a message to the White House because the fax machine was on a separate line from the phones. My son asked whether anyone uses a fax machine anymore. My mother and father-in-law still have one but we don’t.  I just scan, .pdf and email. I have, however, needed to fax something so maybe the kids should know how…just in case they find themselves without the ability to scan, .pdf and email.
  5. How to start a fire without matches, a gas-powered cook top or a lighter. No power. No gas. Freezing temperatures. Enough said.
  6. How to sit at dinner without pulling out your smart phone. Ok, this one is not an actual skill (or maybe it is) but it is a necessity. I was at brunch with my kids the other day and neither one of them could sit still and have a conversation without texting or having a screen in front of them. Granted, the adults eventually pulled out their phones but I’m sure the adults could engage in conversation even if they didn’t have an app to fall back on (at least I hope we could).

What would be on your list of skills that you thought you would never have to teach your kids?

 

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21 Oct

Strike Back

Posted by I suck as a parent in boys, children, family, kids, parenting, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , , .

Have you heard about the mom who went on strike? For six days, Jessica Stilwell, mother of three girls, refused to pick-up, clean up, or otherwise wash anything for her daughters in the hope that they would simply do it themselves. Sure, they eventually broke down and cleaned the mess but only after six days of forcing their family to live in squalor. Who wants to live through that??

I’ve often dreamed of going on strike except in my dream I run away.

I run away to a beautiful tropical island where I don’t have to look at six days worth of dishes in the sink or clothes on the couch. If I’m going to teach my kids a lesson I might as well do it in comfort.

But, alas, fleeing to a tropical locale is not always a realistic option. That’s why I’ve come up with a new solution: throw out your back!

 

No plane ticket required; just a lack of mobility and a hefty doctor’s bill (unless you’ve met your insurance deductible for the year, then your golden).

Sure it’s painful; but it has an upside: even if you want to clean up, you can’t. Ms. Stilwell had to fight her natural impulses to scrub, organize and scream. I get to escape to my room and lay on the floor, no questions asked.

I really can’t push a vacuum cleaner or empty a dishwasher and, although, I suppose I could assemble a meal (or at least pick up the phone to order one) why would I do that?

I don’t want to give them hope.

Which reminds me; don’t let them see you doing ANY housework. Don’t wipe down the counters, or let the dog out or even fluff a pillow. They are looking for signs that you are improving. If you can put away the cereal box, then obviously, you are well enough to do the laundry. Don’t give them hope (this, by the way, applies to your spouse as well).

If you opt for this plan, however, make sure at least one of your children sees you writhing in pain. There is no substitute for this. If they only see you limping around or moving slowly, they may know you are in pain, but it may not be enough pain to prevent you from making them lunch.

Unfortunately, only my youngest saw me injure myself while taking off my boots. (Yes, taking off my boots did me in, and, no, I’m not 80-years-old). My subsequent screams were enough to reduce my 12-year-old to tears. Now, if he sees me lean forward to get something or I simply ask him to do something he jumps to my aid.

My oldest, on the other hand, missed the show. He came home after I was already tucked in bed at 8:30 at night. Although that did seem disturbing to him, it clearly wasn’t enough for him to really understand the extent of my pain. The following day I actually had to text him from my prone position on the family room floor to get him to let our barking dog in.

He was sitting 15 feet away.

Yelling for him didn’t work because he had his ear buds in and the music was so loud that even I could hear it. Now, normally, if I need him to do something and his ear buds are in I have two options:  walk up to him and yank an ear bud out or—as is more often the case—I simply do whatever it is myself. This time, however, I didn’t have much of a choice. So I sent him a text.

I saw him lean around the corner to see why I was texting him from 15 feet away. I looked him in the eye as I reached for my back and moaned. Unfair, I know, but, come on! I’m on the floor!

He only bitched for a little of the 20 foot walk to the door.

At that moment I actually considered recreating my back spasm so he, too, could witness the extent of my injury. One pull on my cowboy boots or a quick twist to the right and bam! Maybe that would be enough to make him stop complaining. But, no, even I’m not that much of a masochist.

Or aren’t I…

Did I just hear my youngest mutter that he doesn’t have any clean clothes to wear? Where are my boots?

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