Save me from the Rain-maniacs!

First, we have people in Galviston, Texas who don’t evacuate when a 19 foot wave surge is predicted. Every station shows the eye of the storm heading directly toward them, still they remain. Not just a few people - 15,000 people don’t leave for higher ground.

Then, we have Baltimore - the weather woosey capital of the world! We were expecting rain Friday evening, actually a bit of a thunderstorm. Winds and heavy rain fall were predicted. Many folks left work early. Just in case. They cancelled all public school and rec league sports activities, for the entire weekend. Just in case. The police where on the roads in full force. Just in case.

Its RAIN people – drive slower, use your headlights and bring an umbrella. How hard is this?!

Thank goodness we don’t get many hurricanes here in Baltimore. If there was actually some real threat potential, we’d be evacuating every other week. And trust me, there would not be 15,000 people staying behind. They’d be flocking out of town like a Baltimore beehive.

Don't get me started on the snow – that’s a whoooole other thing when you live in Bawlmer, hon.

Actually, the next major storm – I’m having a party. Anyone who is not a rain-maniac is welcome. Bring an umbrella and a bottle of wine. We’ll hunker down and ride out the storm together.

Forget the Slots, I Have Another Plan

Today I watched the most pathetic attempt at parallel parking. It was painful really. Made me think – we should re-qualify people to parallel park, annually. Heck, drivers should be periodically required to prove they actually know how to drive a car.

Think about it. Many professions require completion of continuing education to guarantee proficiency over the years. Yet, we hand some teenager a driver’s license and they are good-to-go for life?!

Think about your elderly loved ones. All eventually reach a stage when they have no business being behind the wheel, but no one has the guts to tell them. Who dares to ask Grandpa to hand over the keys? Not I.

Think about the increase in state revenue, from the re-take fees alone! We don’t need slots in Maryland, just driver recertification. It’s a brilliant financial plan really. It would create jobs, generate revenue, increase safety on our roadways.

It’s something to think about . . . .

Mystery of the Disappearing Mailboxes

Someone please explain the mystery of the disappearing mailboxes. What brilliant bureaucrat decided a swift and stealthy removal was necessary?

In case you are reading this from afar, I live in Baltimore. Towson to be exact. Our local U.S. Post Office decided to remove some 30 blue steel mailboxes from perches in neighborhoods around town. They simply disappeared. Overnight. No warning. No discussions. No community meetings. Just gone.

Don’t get me wrong – I applaud their effort to reduce wasteful spending. Apparently many of these boxes were underutilized. I support attempts to conserve gasoline resources and reduce vehicle emissions. No more driving around town to empty these mailboxes twice a day. The decision for a covert removal is where my problem lies. Are we 3 years old? Do you have to hide the pacifier to wean us?

The brilliant bureaucrat who devised this plan was right in one respect. Residents were not going to like it. People were going to stomp their feet, whine a little, and perhaps cry. Hey buddy - you work for the Federal Government, is this something new? You couldn’t come up with a better plan than tip toe into the nursery and snatch the security blanket from the crib?

If you don’t want us to act like 3-year olds, don’t treat us like 3-year olds. We get it. We can do the math. We understand the economics of “reduce.” It would have been nice if someone had given us a little notice. Or (gasp) given us a voice in the decision-making process.

Next time, just put on your big boy panties please and treat us like adults.

Survival Skills for Back-to-School Night

My back-to-school night blog launched a myriad of discussions. Some folks shared stories. Others expressed surprise that I still attended these, 20 years, 3 children and some 50 visits later. Still others asked my advice, as they too march toward this same milestone. “How do you survive 50 of these?” they ask.

I believe knowledge is worthless unless shared. So, here I offer you my top 5 tips for surviving 50 back-to-school nights.

1. Review the school floor plan with your child in advance. Be sure to find out which route and staircase your child uses to navigate between classes. (If you’ve ever tried to get to a 4th floor classroom at Towson High, you know what I’m talking about.) You don’t want to be late. Then, the teacher remembers you, and not in a good way.

2. Time your arrival at the school for a smidge after the PTSA elections, but just before they run out of the $5 school directories. (Sorry, If I'm offending any PTA members, but does anyone ever contest these elections? Have you ever heard anyone speak up when they ask “opposed?” Never happens. Just skip it. Trust me, everyone will be elected and the budget will be passed.) Use your time more wisely. Go home after work. Grab a bite to eat. Change into something comfortable. Then head over to school. It's OK really.

3. Remember school is a social environment for parents as well as students. Take the time to stop in the hallway, say hello, chit-chat or high-five your friends. Socialization is the cornerstone of back-to-school night survival.

4. Ask your child which friends they have in each class. This lets you know which parents to look for. After all, you need someone to sit with in the back of the classroom and whisper to as the teacher drones on. I mean really - what are they sharing in a 3 ½ minute session that you did not already read on some take-home paper last week?

5. Always go for the extra credit. Sign the parent sign-in sheet, pretend to take notes and be sure to introduce yourself to the teacher before you leave. Your child will get good-parent bonus points for this. Trust me, they’ll need it. You don’t know what they are doing every minute of every day and really, you don’t want to know. Just go for the bonus points.

My daughter said, “Mom, what if there are teachers who read your blog?” I said, “You know honey, your teachers are wiser than you think. Trust me, they have their own private list of back-to-school-night survival skills.”

Perhaps one day, a teacher will share these with me. If so, I’ll be sure to post them on my blog. After all, I believe knowledge is worthless unless shared.

I'm With Stupid

If you have teenagers, you know by now that you are stupid. Your life experiences are meaningless. They add up to zilch, nada, nothing. You can’t remind them to pick up the pace or they’ll be late without getting the “eye-roll.” Translation: “Duh! I know.” You can’t offer study help after a bad test score without getting the “open-mouthed stare.” Translation: “Like you would know?!” You can’t suggest they wear a coat in January, without getting the “slumped shoulders-grunt.” Translation: “Leave me alone.”

It can be enough to make a parent see red. It can be enough to make one wonder where one went wrong. Or, it can motivate you to try a different tact.

Three teenagers and repeated reminders of my apparent stupidity, led me to retaliate one day with a little help from the comic strip Charlie Brown. Remember the classroom scenes? The invisible teacher never spoke actual words, just the muted trombone sounds - "mwa, mwa, mwa.”

“Yea, I know mwa, mwa, mwa, mwa-mwa, mwa-mwa,” I said one day, with my hands making exaggerated yakity-yak gestures in the air, “just take the coat.” Surprisingly, this worked. I had their attention. My kids laughed and they listened.

I used this ice-breaker, and others, many times over the years. Life’s too short to waste time on power struggles. If you ever feel like your teenager is wearing an invisible “I’m With Stupid” shirt and standing next to you, you are probably right. I say go buy yourself an “I am Stupid” shirt, stand next to them and have a good laugh.

Back-to-School Night: the end of an era

My first Back-to-School Night was in 1989, Mrs. Desmarais’ 3’s class at Northwood-Appold Nursery School. I came home scarred for life.

The evening had just begun when a gentleman walked over and said “Hi. I’m Sarah’s Dad.” Quickly learning my birth name was no longer relevant, I introduced myself as “TJ’s Mom.” “Oh, Sarah talks about TJ all the time,” He exclaimed. “Really?” I replied. Sarah’s name had never been uttered at our house. “Sarah says she wants to marry TJ and have his babies,” he responded. I was dumfounded. I smiled and nodded, in a bit of a stupor.

Next, Mrs. Desmarais shared with me TJ’s overwhelming fondness for the housekeeping corner. In fact, she shared, he spent his entire self-directed-play time there, every day. He loved cooking, cleaning and tending to the baby dolls. “Really?” I said again. He was strictly a guns and trucks fellow at home. What was his father going to think when I got home?

The rest of the evening was fairly uneventful as we sat in miniature chairs built for 3-year-olds. Mrs. Schmidt played records (yes - records) on her (you guessed it) record player to share the music our little ones were learning. Mrs. Desmarais talked on about field trips to the pumpkin patch, story time and how the children were learning to use their inside voices.

I remember it like it was yesterday.

Nineteen years and nearly 50 Back-to-School nights later, I am now a Pro. I saunter in to Back-to-School Night with all the knowledge and finesse of a well seasoned veteran. With my youngest now a high school senior, last week my Pro career ended.

I was wondering – does that mean I get to use my birth name again or will I forever be known as so-and-so’s Mom?

Kneeling at the Feet of Susan Reimer

In an e-mail yesterday, a friend wrote – “after reading your blog, I think you should replace Susan Reimer in The Sun Paper. You could give her a run for her money!”

Can I just say – That’s my dream job!

Susan Reimer has been writing a humorous family life / baby boomer column in The Baltimore Sun for as long as I can remember. If you’re not familiar with her work – check it out: http://www.baltimoresun.com/entertainment/custom/today/bal-columnist-reimer,0,7281984.columnist . She’s a hoot.

Now, I’m sure Susan works her baby boomer butt off, but I’d give anything to have her job! I know - I have not put in my time at crappy writing jobs. I have not worked my way through the muck, mire and egos of a newspaper. But, hey, there’s great value in a fresh voice who comes to the table without all that baggage. No preconceived notions. No unrealistic expectations. Simply the eager, young face (OK – not so young really) with a new perspective.

If you know anyone, who knows anyone, who knows Susan Reimer
(or her boss), can you give me a holler? I’d be happy to ghost write for her while she’s on vacation. I’d be happy to fill her column if she wanted to take a mental health day. I’d kneel at her feet and take her crumbs any day. And boy – if you get wind she’s retiring any time in the next decade, please, do share!

Because, really - that’s my dream job!

Keep on Blogging & Keep on Dreaming

I really have no idea who reads my blog, or if anyone reads my blog. There’s probably a way to adjust the settings, to count hits to the site, but being somewhat computer-challenged, I simply don’t know how.

My computer has been responding slower than usual lately (which is a bit frustrating as we have all come to expect instant information at our fingertips). I mentioned to someone that I had downloaded pictures lately and a few large project presentations. Perhaps my memory is getting full and slowing down my computer, I said. OK – this is the part, where all the computer geeks are laughing and shaking their heads in dismay. And the part, where all the computer-challenged folks are not in on the joke. Apparently computer memory has nothing to do with speed – who knew!

My son TJ or my future brother-in-law Scott could probably tell me how to adjust the settings to find out the traffic to my site. They consider “Computers Today” light leisure reading. Part of me really does'nt want to know. How depressing would it be if I found out one person a week (probably my Mother) read my blog. Sometimes in life I think we are better off in denial.

So I’m going to keep on blogging and keep on dreaming and keep on being computer-challenged. What about you?

Life, Love, and yes, Sex

I am having so much fun talking to people about sex this summer. But I’m not sure my audience is enjoying it as much as I am.

You see, we have finally settled on a date for a Baltimore Book Event for Charla Muller (author of 365 Nights: A Memoir of Intimacy). I’ve been talking-up the book and asking people to mark their calendars.

While Charla’s book chronicles the everyday challenges inherent in balancing work, children and marriage, there really is no way to get around mentioning the word “sex” when talking about her book. I’ve gotten more than a few blank stares. If I’m reading the stares correctly (and I believe I am), they mask thoughts like: “Sex? Did she just say the word ‘sex’ to me?” or “Charla offered her husband what? How often? Was she on drugs?” or quite simply “Don’t let my husband find out about this!”

365 Nights is really not about sex as much as it is about married relationships - how they change over time, how men and women’s perceptions differ, and how reconnecting (in whatever way you choose) can transform a relationship. While the impetus for the renewal in Charla and Brad’s marriage was a change in the frequency of their “married with young children” sex life, the book talks little about sex, but rather about life, stress, change, growth and relationships. Charla’s wit and humor along with her candid look at the realities of everyday married life, make for great reading.

But don’t take my word for it. Check out Charla’s web site (http://www.charlamuller.com/ ), look at the reviews on http://www.amazon.com/ or better yet, read the book. You can find it on the shelf at Barnes & Noble or order it at most book stores.

You’ll agree, it’s impossible to mention the book without using the word Sex, at least once. I think you’ll also find this real, honest, relationship book is a must read you’ll soon be sharing with family and friends.

It's the Neighbors, again!

Neighbors are like relatives – you don’t get to choose them. For better or for worse, you’re stuck with them. You could opt to move, but that’s a pretty expensive approach to divorce yourself from an unsavory relative.

Most neighborhoods have their share of Sloppy Neighbors. The ones who don’t mow their grass quite often enough, leave the newspapers to biodegrade on the front lawn and assume the wind will take care of those fallen leaves. These folks are most likely to wait for the snow to melt rather than shovel their sidewalk. I suppose these aren’t such horrible crimes. Though, I feel bad for the mailman, on those slippery snowy days.

Life can get pretty dicey when you have an Inconsiderate Neighbor. The one constantly borrows but rarely returns or returns items broken, without a word about replacing them. I had neighbors once who played the stereo loud enough for me to hear in my yard, 2 doors down. This would not have been so bad if I actually shared their taste in music. I’ve even had neighbors who’s teens routinely bickered, loud enough to hear all the way across the street. (OK, maybe that was my kids . . . . . . . nobody’s a perfect neighbor, after all.)

Have you ever had Feuding Neighbors? Now there’s a real treat. Feuding Neighbors typically emerge when a Judgmental Neighbor is in your midst. You know, the one who “owns” the block and feels a sense of duty to keep all in his territory “as it should be.” Just mix a Judgmental Neighbor with an Inconsiderate or Sloppy one and they'll be no need to wait for the 4th of July to see fireworks.

Do you have a Nosey Neighbor? The one who watches every move on the block and reports perceived transgressions to anyone who’ll listen. Nosey neighbors are actually my favorite. They keep me on my toes, preventing me from becoming the sloppy or inconsiderate member of the community. And they watch my house. I love my nosey neighbor, God bless her soul. She's always helping me out. Once, she clued me in to a party my teenager had one weekend in my absence. My sneaky teen never did find out how I knew. Thus, I was able to continue my oft-repeated assertion “Mommies know everything.”

So tell me - how do you get along with your neighbors? Is it All in the Family, Father Knows Best, Family Feud or Divorce Court? Please, do share.