The Minor, but Distressing Trials of a Mom and Daughter

Kids just say and do the darnedest things....

I was driving with my kids the other night...the night after Miley Cyrus had her unofficial audition for "Club Chubby's" newest "stand up" lap dancer on live television the other night, when my straight laced, devout Catholic mother calls me and says, "so I heard a new word on one of the a.m. news talk shows. What does twerking mean? " My older kids, who, incidentally did not, and most definitely were not allowed to watch the MTV Video Music Awards, all bust out laughing.  Apparently, even though I send them to Catholic school, that doesn't mean all the parents there share concerns about the over-sexualization of our children that I do.  So of course, my middle school aged kids hear all about it. And then some, judging from the giggles and tittering going about the SUV.  And of course,  I'm on speaker phone. *sighs* So upon hearing all of the giggles about the car, my mom then wants to know what's so funny, and I'm stuck there, in traffic, with 7 children in the car with nothing but a whole lotta "ums" and an eventual "no...you don't, and I'll call you later, but seriously....when I do, do we really have to discuss it? " coming out of my puss.

So then my mom goes on further.  Seiously...I love the woman, but she could never leave well enough alone.  She goes on and mentions something about how  and how she's pretty sure Robin Thicke's from Canada. Why on earth this is relevant, I have no idea. I think she was trying to change the subject. Or maybe she was just surprised that a Canadian would do something that must be naughty, judging from the snickering from my end, on live television. Like Canadians can't be just as bad as the rest of us?  Maybe it's all that snow...you can't be too naughty all bundled up in a parka, right?  But after my mom spills the beans about Canada's newest favorite son, my son Fin perks up and says, "sweet!! I can use him for my project sbout Canada. We have to give examples of famous people from our assigned country".   I look at Fin, and give him the "ok" sign just to shut him up for a few minutes so I can say goodbye to my mom, promising to call her later, of course.  After my mom hangs up, I tell young Finbar that "it might be better to look at some other famous Canadians, like Wayne Gretzky, for instance, because he had some mad skills, true, Fin?" To which my 15 year old, Nora Kate, who's riding shotgun, leans over and in a low voice says, so only I can hear (or so I think) fills me in on the situation.Counting on her fingers, she enumerates for me, "Well, you know mom...to get, #1) twerked by the darling of the Disney Channel on live TV, #2)  in front of millions of viewers, and #3) with her dad and your wife in the audience not only watching, but cheering you on.... I'm thinking that takes some mad skills too."  She of course gets the stink eye from me over this, but I know if I begin to discuss it, it will only get worse than it already is.

My oldest son (13), Sean apparently has overheard her elucidating some of  Mr. Thicke's "mad skills", leans forward from the middle seat of the Suburban and says "yeah..but can that Robin Thicke guy hit a 30 ft slapper planting the biscuit between the pipes through the crease monkey's five hole?" To which Nora Kate turn around, saying "pervert!!!", and smacked him in the side of the head. With all the sisterly love she could muster, of course.

At this point, I had to pull the SUV over I was laughing so hard. Of course I knew that all Sean was saying was that Robin Thicke being twerked on live TV wasn't anything to compare to Wayne Gretzky's mad skills at putting the puck in the net from 30ft out, right between the goalies legs. Thank God I pay attention during hockey games. So after I made Nora Kate apologize for hitting her brother, and then explained to her what he said was actually innocent sports banter, we had to discuss the whole "twerking" incident once we got home. And you know....I kind of resent the fact that I had to "go there", you know. I purposely DO NOT expose my children to such things. But thanks to network morning news shows and other parents who do not limit the programming their children watch, I ended up not only having to explain to my children that twerking was something that "nice girls do not do".  The point I didn't share with them was that twerking is okay, as long as they are married and their husband promises to buy them jewelry, furniture,  re-do the kitchen and/or the bathroom, or take them to the a bowl game this football season....oh, yeah, and then only and only then WITH their husband, or else she is no longer a "nice girl".   But  then I also had to explain to my mom that it is "like the stork and the cabbage patch and where my brothers and I like to believe we came from...In other words, I just don't want to talk about it, and for the love of all that is holy, can we just leave it at that?"

So yeah...I resent having to explain overtly sexual behavior that has become part of pop culture not only to my children....but to my mother as well. And I swear if my mother-in-law calls me about this, I'm going to completely lose it....or maybe I'll just hand the phone to her son.

Raised on Rockets:Recollections of a Rocket Girl....

I grew up in Merritt Island, Florida, which was a tiny little dot on a map on the east coast of Florida. It is actually easy to find on the map, because it kind of looks like a handle smack in the middle of the East coast of the  Florida peninsula.  It is really only an island because it is between the Indian and Banana Rivers. There are a lot of fascinating facts and places in and around my hometown, but none quite as well known as the Kennedy Space Center and Cape Canaveral Air Station launch facility.  They are both about 5 miles from my house, as the crow flies.  Growing up, I didn't know we lived anywhere that special. My father worked building rockets for the newly formed National Aeronautics and Space Administration, and it's various contractors.  He worked building the rockets that first put men into orbit, and then on the much more powerful ones that would eventually put a man on the moon. But everyone's father I knew did that. I never really questioned my dad about what he did. It just seemed kind of boring, because everyone else's dad did the same exact thing. No big deal...

I also didn't think it was unusual to be woken at 4 in the morning by the rattling of my jaloussie windows, as a Saturn V rocket got it's groove on and lifted off from Pad 39A. Most days I'd just roll over and go back to sleep, not thinking another thing about it.  My older brothers would often run outside and watch the sky be lit up all Halloween orange, with the glow of the massive Saturn V rocket engines lighting the purple pre-dawn sky. Engines our dad had helped build. But yeah...no big deal.  However, they would also go back to sleep soon after lift off, and very rarely discuss it in the morning. This was just "normal" for us. Like I said..it was no big deal.

I was raised not to be boastful of ones blessings or of ones situation in life. My dad, though a larger than life character to me, was rather quiet and shy around others. He didn't ever talk about what he did, or how the work he and others did at Kennedy Space Center was so important and so fascinating. When everyone around you did the same thing, there really wasn't much to talk about,  right?  Plus much of it was highly classified, as NASA was terrified that the Soviets would beat us in the Space Race.  I never realized that, even though thousands of people worked at then Kennedy Space Center, it was really a very, very small segment of the US population, and it was rather unusual to see rockets up close. It was only when I visited my cousins in Alabama one summer that I truly realized what a special upbringing I really had. I was probably about 10 years old. One of my cousins was actually jealous of the fact that I lived in the close proximity of rockets. And when she found out I was so 'meh' about the fact that I witnessed rocket launches every few months, or so, she was ready to slap the holy hell outta me. This was after Apollo 11, and the moon landing, so the country was all "Moon Fever" and anything about rockets or space was a huge deal. But not so much for kids raised on what was to become known as "The Space Coast" of Florida. We were raised on rockets. And we had no clue  how cool that really was.

Fast forwarding to 19When the Space Shuttle Challenger blew up only seconds after lift off, I was sitting in the parking lot of Merritt Island High, in my convertible Mustang, with the top down, head leaned back, not really paying all that much attention to the launch behind my Bucci Rose shades. This was the launch that had the "Teacher in Space" on board, so all the schools in our county and around the country were encouraged to watch the launch. We were lucky in that we could actually go outside and watch it. But for me, and a lot of the kids in that parking lot that cold January morning, it was just another launch, and had been done dozens of times before, and it was just "no big deal". It was a wickedly cold day for Florida standards, and the mercury  hadn't even made it past the 30 degree mark when NASA gave the "Go" for launch. My best friend, John Marose, was sitting next to me in the 'Stang, head also leaned back on the seat, shades on, and listening to the launch announcer on the radio.  Marose was from Chicago, and was still enthralled with the idea of living on the Space Coast, and the idea of seeing a rocket go up. This was his first shuttle launch, so he was paying more attention than I was to the launch. So when the shuttle blew up only seconds after lift off,  I jarred myself back into the moment, and REALLY looked up, only to see what was left of the Challenger falling from the sky. John asked me, "Is that normal?".  I was dumbstruck...but finally managed to get out, "No, Marose...that isn't normal. THAT is most definitely NOT normal."  We looked around at all the other kids and faculty gathered in the parking lot.  Many of the women faculty openly crying, and the men trying keep a brave face for the kids. But we all knew. This was NOT normal. This event was NOT survivable for the astronauts on board. And when NASA says there's been a catastrophic anomaly...you know things have definitely strayed into the FUBAR zip code. Fouled Up Beyond All Recognition.

That day is seared into my brain...stuck onto my frontal lobe with super glue. I think it is for every person in that parking lot that day. It's one of those days that I will always remember where I was when it happened. Like 9/11...or for my mom's generation, the Kennedy asassination.  It changed my thinking about every single launch that went up from Cape Canaveral. I appreciated how dangerous it was to dare to conquer space. Yeah...things went horribly wrong that day. But thinking back on the hundreds of rockets that have been launched from Cape Canaveral, I can count on one hand all of the "catastrophic events" that have occurred. And that is a pretty good record, in my book.  That day changed how I felt about where I lived. I don't know...maybe I just grew up a little more that day. All I know is that I was proud to have been raised on rockets.

The Last Half Only

I have a few theories about child rearing. One of them I lovingly call the "Last Half Only Theory".  Now, I know I'm not a perfect mom. *snorts and thinks "far from it"*  But I've noticed a few things over my years of being a mom. Kids seem to only listen to the last half of your sentence. For example, if I tell my kids, "Shut the door" then I'm good. They will shut the door. But if I say "Shut the door, you don't want to let mosquitoes in!"  They will leave the door open because all they heard was "let mosquitoes in".  I know, it's not a scientific theory. But hell...raising children is NOT a  science. I sometimes feel I need to start talking like Yoda from Star Wars. He would have phrased the above command as:  "Want mosquitoes in, you do not. Door shut you do".  So, here's a case in point of what I'm talking about. (note, I have capitalized portions of the following only for emphasis in this blog....it was emphasized  at the time nor was it "yelled" at Liam)

The other day, I caught my toddler, Liam, picking his nose. It's a normal thing for kids, even kids older than he is, to do this, so I didn't freak out. But I did realize there was a chance to nip this in the bud with just the right kind of parenting. *again, I snort at this...like I would know the "right kind of parenting" if it hit me in the head!*  So back to Liam...I of course stopped him, helped him wipe his nose with a tissue, then proceeded to give him the "Why You Don't Pick Your Nose" lecture.  So I go though the litany of reasons why NOT to pick your nose, like "it's unsanitary and can spread germs" or "it's just plain gross", and the ever important, but often overlooked "you can actually make your nose bleed, which might lead to infection" (I find this one gets trumped by the "it's just plain gross" argument nearly every time.). I end it up with an emphatic, "So don't DON'T PICK YOUR NOSE.  After I am finished, I leave the room, to go throw in a load of laundry. My oldest two daughters, Maggie and Nora Kate were in the room, and of course, they had plenty to say on the subject. (I know...go ahead, roll your eyes now.) What they don't realize is that I can hear them from the other room...

Nora Kate begins by pointing out that it's not JUST picking your nose that's gross. She says, "There is indeed something even more disgusting than picking your nose."  At this point, she gets right down in little Liam's face and says in a low, dramatic voice:  "It's picking your nose AND eating it!" After she pauses for  dramatic effect, she  goes on to say, "Yes...I know it's so darn convenient, being that your nose is always on your face, and your finger is always on your hand. Why some might think that's why God put your nose so close to your mouth for the very reason that you could pick your nose and then eat what you dug outta there. You know...kind of like a big pantry for your face. Some might think it is even a biological imperative to pick you nose...But it's not. So little guy...don't EAT YOUR BUGGERS!"  By this time, I have come back in the kitchen and am watching surreptitiously from the kitchen, suppressing my laughter.  Liam is held in Nora Kate's spell...and he is just taking all this in like the little sponge a toddler is.

Then it's Maggie's turn. She has to add to what Nora Kate has just put out there, so she says, "You know...even little starving children wouldn't eat their buggers. And those little kids in Haiti mom told you about...they are STARVING(she uses big jazzy hands for emphasis here), like really starving (she sucks in her cheeks at this point),  and they don't even eat their buggers. You can't possibly be hungrier than they are? You can't be so hungry that you'd eat your buggers, can you?" And little Liam, looks on, wide eyed, and blinking. So she finishes with a resounding, "So Liam...don't EAT YOUR BUGGERS, okay?"

Little Liam nods and goes back to the show he was watching on TV, and mindlessly begins to mine his nose again, and then proceeds to EAT THE BUGGER HE FINDS!. When I stop him, and ask him, "Liam...What did we just tell you? Didn't you understand what we said?" He looks up at me with a bit of a confused look and says, "Yes, mommy. You, said PICK YOUR NOSE, and  Nori Kate and Mags all said "EAT YOUR BUGGERS".

I give up. It's time for the Grey Goose.

Thoughts on The 12th Anniversary of 9-11

What can I say about today? It seems I can recall every moment of the day. I remember my mom coming to help me take our (then) 3 children to Tumbleweeds gymnastics. Nora Kate was 3, and our twins Maggie and Sean were around 1 year old. At first, I told my mom it had to be a mistake...a small sight seeing plane must have crashed into the World Trade Center. Then we watched, in horror, on the TV in the gym's lounge as the second plane crash into the WTC. And a bit later in abject disbelief as the first building came crashing down...all on live TV. 

Nora Kate was watching intently, which in retrospect, I'm not sure was a wise idea....but she has always been older than her years. She asked me, "Mommy, were there people in that building...and in those planes?" She could tell from the horror on the faces of those present in the little gym that there was something very serious going down. At this point, I felt there was no need to sugar coat things. This was a HUGE event. Life altering. She would remember this day forever. With unshed tears in my eyes, I told her "yes baby...there were." She then said, "what can we do for them, mommy?" I truly had no words for her. I could only choke out, "What do you think we should do?" She replied in her very confident, toddler voice "I think we should pray for them." And right there in the middle of the gym's lounge/waiting room she knelt down, made the sign of the cross, and looked up at the television, and began to pray for the people on the planes and in the buildings. My mom and I joined her, kneeling beside her, and with tears in our eyes watched and listened to this sweet little girl offer her heartfelt prayers for those she would never know, and for a peace and grace during a horrible event she would never forget. I can't remember the words she spoke. I am sure they were the simplistic intercessions of a 3 year old. But I will never forget how amazed I was that this little girl kneeling next to me simply GOT IT. Amidst all the adults in that gym's waiting room, watching in horror as ALL our lives changed forever, she knew exactly what to do. She knew exactly who to call on in our time of need: God. 

Every year on this day our family prays for those who died on this day, and those who died avenging this horrible, cowardly attack on our country, and for all patriots throughout our history who gave the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom. And every year, just like on September 11, 2001, Nora Kate leads our family in those prayers. May God bless those who lost loved ones on 9-11, and give them a peace and grace that surpasses all their anger and grief. We shall never forget. Not if I can help it.

Some Halloween Reflections...

I was going through my kids' candy last night, and I came across some interesting stuff. Some of the things I found reminded me of my own childhood experience with my 5 brothers, and our thoughts on certain "treats" we would get from the folks in our neighborhood.  There were "Rules" that were followed, which basically ranked the neighbors on 'treat giving coolness factor'. First off, when I was a kid, if you gave out "dental paraphernalia", such as toothbrushes, toothpaste, dental floss, or those creepy little pink pills that told you where you still had plaque left on your teeth after brushing, that was instant grounds for being toilet papered...along with a healthy dose of the toothpaste you gave out and some shaving cream thrown in for good measure. If you gave out something edible, yet natural...such as a granola bar, an apple, or plain old popcorn...you should expect to be asked the question "so...how many rolls of Charmin should I put you down for?". Sugar free gum was a crap shoot. It was technically gum...but the sugar free part put it squarely in toilet paper territory...so really your fate rested with your behavior in the neighborhood the rest of the year. If you were kind of a douchebag, be prepared to be visited by the Toilet Paper Fairies.

However, last night, as I was going through the nearly 40 lbs of candy my kids brought home from their Halloween night foray, I could see the plus side of giving out dental implements and healthier foods. I mean, after they eat all this candy, they are seriously going to have some cavities....and maybe even a good ol' sugar coma. Maybe next year I'll pass out little vials of insulin and syringes.

You know...on second thought, I don't think so. I can see that kid across the street working out the precise number of Charmin "Ultra Strong" double rolls needed to do justice to our yard. And, I'm also betting that my own kids would gladly join in on the "Toilet Paper Justice", just on principle. And...I kind of wouldn't blame them.

My pet peeves with Hollywood: The "Batman Begins" edition

Okay...tonight was family movie night, and we watched Batman Begins, which is my favorite of all the Batman movies.  Well, The Dark Knight was great, too...Christian Bale is simply A-MAZ-ING. The best actor to have played Batman. EVER.

I love movies, of all genres. Blockbusters and independent films, animated and live action...you name it, and I'm game. I can't even tell you what my favorite movie of all time is, because I love so many different ones, for so many different reasons. However, I have to say that I am frequently disappointed by Hollywood. True...these disappointments are for small reasons, and honestly, in the whole scheme of things, they don't matter much, to anyone but me, probably! But really, the small things can sometimes help a movie make more sense. And most of the issues I have are for things that could be easily changed within the plot or script. I actually have a list of movies that piss me off to varying degrees because of these little things. Batman Begins is the most recent addition this list, which also includes one of my favorite movies of all time: The Boondock Saints. So, I'm not just picking on Batman Begins.  Truly, it doesn't make me love any of the films on this list any less. They are all great fun, despite the pissy little issues I have with them!

Towards the end of Batman Begins, there is a climactic scene where an elevated train is moving along through the city, and the track just happens to parallel the city's water supply line. Now, whoever thought up that "genius plan" of  burying or constructing a water main directly underneath train tracks, elevated or not, should be spanked. Hard. But I'm willing to suspend my disbelief on that point, because as an engineering professional, I've seen some REAL stupid decisions, usually made for the dumbest reason of all: money.

So,the train is moving along this pipeline, which, by the way, has been contaminated with a hallucinogenic drug that will cause everyone in Gotham to go insane once it is inhaled. Yes...I said an inhalant, distributed via a WATER system...I know, makes no sense, but wait for it...I'm getting there. The pipes are bursting as this train passes over each segment, releasing a white powdery substance into the air. Now, this is accomplished by a device used by the bad guys (led by the totally hot and bad ass Liam Neeson), that is essentially an extremely powerful microwave emitter, which evaporates the water in the pipes, causing them to burst, thus aspirating the poison into the atmosphere. Again...I am willing to accept this part of the story, because theoretically it is possible. However, hasn't anyone given any thought to the fact that the human body is made up of 70% water?? I'm thinking that all this jazz about the poison in the water is a moot point. Once that bad boy is fired up, every living thing in Gotham is going to be essentially dehydrated...literally toast. Okay...I'll suspend my disbelief on that point...it was a cool plot idea....and we'll just give this picky little point about the dessication of every human in Gotham a wide berth, and just push on. 

As the train is moving down the tracks, blowing the water main to shit as it goes, the city engineer, who is apparently at some main "control center" for Gotham's water system, keeps referring to the "build up of pressure in the lines". I have to say, that as an engineer, this is where more big, fat, glaring red lights start going off in my head (I know...your thinking, she's upset over THIS??). But when the basic laws of physics and  hydraulics are disregarded, I start to have problems. You see, the pipes are being burst all along the train route because of this ultra mega microwave oven from hell, and I'm fine with all that. What I DO have a problem with is that WHAT the city engineer is getting his sphincter bunched about shouldn't be happening in the first place.

Now, for those of you who may not have thought about this, let me give you a quick little lesson in hydraulics. The pipes are under pressure, simply because they are basically a closed system. Once the pipe bursts (ie, when microwaves evaporate the water, causing the heat to blow a big ass hole in the pipes), then the pipe is depressurized, causing air and water (and in this case, the powdery hallucenogenic) to be released into the atomosphere. In a real life water system, that is, in itself, a HUGE problem for city engineers. You don't ever want to see your pressurized pipes have a sudden decrease in pressure. It means YOU HAVE A LEAK...probably a really big one, too!! And that means potentially millions of gallons of clean drinking water is now gushing out into the earth. This is a huge loss in resources, ie money; not to mention the hassle it is going to be to repair these piping systems, and the added pain in the ass of dealing with angry city residents who are going to be rip shit pissed at having to boil their drinking water until you DO get the pipes fixed. 

This city engineer's statement make no sense. He should have said the exact opposite, actually. He should have seen a huge drop in the pressure, and that in it self should have been a big old red flag for him, causing him serious discomfort in the posterior region, so to speak. Thinking in terms of the direction of the movie at this point, I see no reason why the concern over the DECREASE in pressure couldn't have been used in the script. Seems to me that it would have just been a simple word change in the script. That'd solve that damn problem. The only reasons I can see for it not being changed is that Hollywood is: (a) oblivious to the laws of physics, (b) doesn't care about the laws of physics or (c) just didn't really catch the writer's error. Seeing as how I don't want to cast aspersions on the intelligence of Hollywood directors and writers ('cause I KNOW there are some brilliant ones out there...), I will just assume it is point (c).

See..my issue with this isn't really that they got this wrong. It's mostly that the reason they DID get it wrong is that Hollywood apparently doesn't hire fact checkers for their scripts. If they do, then the ones on Batman Begins need to be fired! When you are dealing with a movie that is set in reality, (yes, one could argue that Gotham is a timeless setting, but still the freaking laws of physics work there, I'm thinking...), it is important to have the basic rules that govern our planet firmly within your grasp. And for cryin' out loud, a movie with the budget that Batman Begins had, should have been able to hire a geek or two to look over the script and advise on the feasibility of the plot devices. They could have probably gotten a couple of slightly drunken physics majors from Cal-Tech to glance at the script for about an hour, and I guarantee you that even pie-eyed, they would have caught the inconsistencies I found (we geeks are like that you know!). Hell, I would perform this service, FOR FREE, just so I wouldn't have to sit through another big budget extravaganza that bitch slaps the hell out of laws of physics with every plot twist. 

You Getting Much Wood Offa That?

I have 3 sons who are all in Cub Scouts. They were in the kitchen the other day preparing for the Annual Rainwater Regatta, which is a Cub Scout event that races small sail boats that each Cub has created himself from a block of wood. So, my son's, Josie, Fin and Sean are sanding their toy boats they've carved, dilligently shaping their sleek sailing vessels for the upcoming competition. Nora and Maggie, my daughters are in the adjoining room watching Phineas and Ferb...you know the Disney cartoon...with their dad. After watching the boys for a few minutes, I make a few mental calculations as to how much wood they are removing, and come to the conclusion that my kitchen floor is soon on its way to looking like that of a  sawmill. So, concerned about the amount of wood shavings going on my kitchen floor...I said to the boys:

"Are you getting much wood off that?"

My husband hears me say this, and thinking I am speaking to him, says:

"No, honey...it's Phineas and Ferb, and I don't roll that way".

I nearly cried I was laughing so hard. Of course, the kids had no idea why their parents were laughing so hard at this statement...and that is as it should be!! Although, our 12 year old daughter, Nora Kate, had her suspicions that there was some underlying inuendo there, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Screw her and her puritanical glare!!

My Dad, great philosopher that he was (lol..), once gave me some wonderful advice: "Marry a man who makes you laugh". I of course looked at him, and said..."so you want me to start trolling the Circus for lonely clowns?". He didn't think this was too funny. At the time, I wondered why...

But I must say that my Dad's advice was good advice. Michael makes me laugh...all the time. He is the man of my dreams, the love of my life, and the laughter in my soul. Even when I am mad at him, he still makes me laugh, despite attempts NOT to!! Just the other day, he came into my office, and after making some seemingly off handed comment I laughed so hard that I spit iced tea all over my desk. I'm still cleaning off the computer keyboard from that zinger!