How does this happen that I am here watching a cat and they are sipping wine in Sonoma? I am not sure, but as soon as I write the check for my son’s next semester at college, I will take some time to try to figure it out. I think it might have something to do with the decision I made some thirty years ago to have these vacationing children, but my original thought process is getting fuzzy in my old age.

Staying home to raise the children was a fulfilling job. I was a tad saddened to learn this week that this experience precludes me from advising my husband on any matters of state should he decide to run for President.

Funny thing is that parenting involves very high level decision making skills with serious consequences.

Think about it. How many wars have you prevented? How many strikes and work stoppages have you settled? How many arguments have you been an arbitrator for? How many budgets have you balanced and how much self control have you had in order to do so? And scheduling? Being in two places, as close to one time as possible without the luxury of Air Force One, happens all the time. Executive decisions are made and enforced – hourly. A decision is a decision, and good judgement is good judgement no matter what the topic.

But now it is time to feed the cat from hell. Will it be turkey or liver? Decisions, decisions.

I have decided to try a new tactic. The next time someone poses a parenting advice question to me I will ask them how they think I did it. My theory is that is what they want to hear anyway. I might begin to experience being a crowd pleaser that way. As it is, I am not Miss Popular.

Perhaps it’s because my advice involves Using the word “no,” using discipline and sometimes making your kids angry with you like when you might ground them. If I could count the times other moms ask and then ignore this type of advice, I would be rich.

Needless to say, I am not.

Nothing ordered  is as it is on the menu. We have to hold something or have extra of something. I swear that I can hear the cashiers fighting over who will have to take our order when our car rolls up.  Of course, we could plan ahead and write it down but that would make sense and make it easier, and the confusion becomes a form of our entertainment. What’s the fun in being all organized and efficient?

The only trouble is that the lack of it can impact the accuracy of our order and then the complaints get on the heavy side. And that is a good way to kill an appetite.  Or someone in the backseat. Just kidding.

It probably takes a village to fill our order – a more accurate description for this post.

Now I dread drive through windows just like a visit to the dentist.  Both drills give me a headache, empty my wallet and cause me to ponder the number of cavities in my head. However, I get a new toothbrush and floss at the dentist in a cute little bag. They are much more practical than the crappy toys I have been stepping  on for years and we do all leave the dentist with fresh breath.

“The art of giving orders is not to try to rectify the minor blunders and not to be swayed by petty doubts.”
~ Sun Tzu (Chinese General and Author, b.500 BC)

At the time, I was embarrassed of the way I looked in it because I was heavier than usual due to being seven months pregnant. Through the years, it magically made me look thinner and thinner to where I actually preferred it to the real thing. It was only the 90s permed hair that made me decide to go for the re-take. Ugh. It left me wishing for the ability to Photoshop my official NYS photo like I do for family portraits. At least I have good hair now.

My guess is that though the next set of years, I will gradually go though the same process and this photo will actually surpass my “good looks” (relatively speaking) and I will grow to prefer it.

But for now, my consolation is in getting mistaken for a friend of my daughters’ and not their mother. Still happens and while it should give me joy that this could possibly happen, the part I REALLY love is how much they hate it when it happens.

There is a trick involved in getting mistaken in this way. It involves alcohol consumption and dim lighting.

Thanks to the wonder of the Internet, I have completed all my Christmas shopping. The only thing yet to do is make the sign for the door on the side porch where the UPS guy keeps leaving my gift items in the rain and wet to direct him to the large, covered wrap-around porch that is ten steps further but will keep my gift items dry. I am working on a graphic for that now. Perhaps just a big “DUH” would do the trick. It’s so hard to be nice when people are so lazy and stupid silly.

One of the items that the lazy little UPS guy left in the puddle collecting by the side porch door where it’s wet, was the amazing 10×14 Easy Canvas Print that I had made of the family when we were “dunh” dropping off my son for his first year at college.

It is a family favorite as we all look good in it and it is before I began sobbing hysterically so my eye makeup is still intact. You won’t be able to tell because I don’t post photos of my family online where you can actually make out anything for privacy reasons, but I just had to show it off in some form because it is awesome. I was a little afraid that putting our favorite photo on canvas might ruin the detail, but it didn’t. It looks great. I liked it so much, I friended them on Facebook too – just in a jolly holiday mood, I guess!

The next task to complete for the holidays is baking cookies. I wonder if the wonder of the Internet can somehow perform that for me too? I have the best recipe for cookies and the trouble with that is that people request them, and then you are stuck. In retrospect, it may have been smarter to use a dry and bad tasting recipe as this is the 20th year of me having to make cookies for the whole crowd that get eaten before the meal so I get complaints after dinner that I didn’t make enough.

Lucky for me, the girls will do the decorating if I make the dough. I guess hand mixing the cold hard butter into the flour and sugar is good for my biceps. I think that’s how Jillian Michaels gets hers.

You have heard that practice makes perfect? Yes, have had the most practice (at losing).

It doesn’t seem to matter, because we still love our sports. And we are good sports, too.

I sometime wonder that if we began to win, would we know what to do? It would be so confusing, especially since our outlook on life is from the “wide right” and our range of emotions experienced during sporting events stays pretty close to the “no goal” crease. What would it BE like to root for a winning team?

• How would we keep our wits and tongues sharp if we didn’t need to come up with snappy responses when people call us losers?
• Would we still have the same quality of delicious tailgate fare if we didn’t need that comfort food to get us through the game?
• Would we enjoy our $6 beer in the stands as much if it weren’t drowning our sorrows?
• Would we find another use for our middle fingers exiting the parking lot of ” The Ralph” when that carload of Patriots’ fans is looking so smug?
• Would it get boring to not ride on that roller coaster of wild dreams and unrealistic expectations each week?
• Would I be able to get/afford game tickets if we started to win?

I say that there is something to be said for a comfort zone. And it won’t be what I am saying in the stands when the snow starts flying and the wind starts whipping.

For the Erie is a-risin’ / An’ the whiskey’s getting’ low. / I hardly think we’ll get a drink / Till we get to Buffalo.
– Lyrics to “Ballad of the Canal”