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.

I am willing to sacrifice my living room in the winter and the lawn (where he hangs the laundry outside) in the summer so that I don’t have to camp again. Who wants to be all dirty, smell like smoke, chase skunks or bears from your eating area and even worse things if you don’t camp where there is a bathroom nearby? Not me. Give me a kitchen, a bathroom and Words with Friends and I am a happy camper.

I used to want my home to look all neat and pretty but then I had kids and it ruined me. Gone was the need for perfection. With each broken treasured vase, lost article of favorite clothing and scratched up/marked up wall, a little piece of Martha-like desire for perfection died. RIP.

I am all in for that “lived in” look and feel as long as it is clean, of course.

The problem of the environment is the extension of good housekeeping of the thinking woman.
 ~ Marjory Stoneman Douglas

I made this sign to help the delivery guys out. I wanted to be very clear as to where to leave packages. That way, my $75 canvas photo delivered in a cardboard box wouldn’t get ruined, which would mean I would call the delivery service and make them pay for it. But in the spirit of Christmas joy and understanding, I decided to just make it clear with this bright sign designed with red and white holiday colors, exactly where deliveries should be made.

The kids said it was “bitchy” but I don’t see it. Once again, in the spirit of Christmas joy and understanding I decided to clarify my feelings on the subjet to the words of John Lennon’s Happy Christmas Song.

So this is bitchy
And what have you done
Another package delivered
And it’s another wet one
And so this is bitchy
I hope you can read
The near and wet porch
Isn’t the one.

A very covered and dry porch
And the preferred spot
Is ten steps to the right
Without much extra effort
And so this is bitchy
For all delivery services to see
For I like my packages
As dry as can be
And so put my packages
For a better customer-client relationship
On the covered porch
And let’s stop all the wet packages
So we can have a merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let’s hope you get the message
Without just a tinge of healthy fear
And so this is bitchy
And what have I done
Another door to the right, dear
And you’ll make me feel fun
And so this is bitchy
But what can I do
The near and the wet one
Will let my items get ruined
Giving me a grumpy Christmas
And a snappy New Year
Let’s hope you get the message
With a tinge of healthy fear
War is over, with careful deliveries
If you want it
War is over, I might even take this sign down…
Now…

At first I thought that perhaps the squash that he had been bragging about must not have been put in the right place, namely my basement, and perhaps they were still in the garage. Then I checked around and they were nowhere to be found, but on a visit to my mother-in-law’s house, I spied them by her kitchen door.

While I so kindly offered the complete summer months of my support, offered no cost supervision, and bought ten tomato stands at considerable expense, I apparently am not getting any squash. (Perhaps if I had actually helped in the garden I might have rated some squash?)

When the kids were home, I would make them weed, hoe and water the garden as part of their daily chores. It was hard work too, getting them to do physical labor in the hot summer sun, so I definitely did my part back then. But, now that they are gone, it’s come down to doing it myself with so many things. It just doesn’t seem right. I miss them AND I get extra work? Where’s the payoff?

Well, they tell me they will be cleaning my house and helping with the Thanksgiving meal so perhaps I might see something deposited in my empty nest account this week.

I am off the the store to get some squash for Thanksgiving. I guess I pay for it one way or another.

“A man’s children and his garden both reflect the amount of weeding done during the growing season.” ~ unknown

Are they insane? What do they think the kids, those little social sponges, are taking in? Who do they think they will become if that is what they think life is like?

As I turned purple thinking about how thoughtless some parents are about exposing their kids to total crap, I wondered if this judgmental post would garner some comments. Nahh. Probably not.

Confession: I have never watched Jersey Shore and about three minutes of one of the Real Housewives shows.  I don’t need to. I get it. It’s crass, loud, flashy and shines a light on people who don’t have much substance to reflect. And they get PAID for these lackluster performances.

Personally, I am sick of shows that showcase bad behavior, people having sex as often as I eat dark chocolate (multiple times daily) and with about as much thought as I give that, and reality shows starring fake people. All I can think of is the line from The Princess Bride to describe them, “Boo! Boo! So bow to the Queen of Rubbish, the Queen of Putrescence, The Queen of Garbage, for that’s what she is! Boo! Boo! Boo!”

Note to Parents – Either turn off the crap or don’t talk about it near people with half a brain so that our collective blood pressures can stay within normal limits. And in twenty years, don’t complain about the end product. You didn’t care enough to do any quality control, and that’s your job.

—–

“I love you, but I love myself more.”  ~ Samantha Jones

(And this quote is from a selfish character, who I wouldn’t trust with my chocolate, from another show, Sex in the City, that little kids should not have been watching but probably did.)

It is football season and if you go to games in Buffalo that means tailgating. And that means calories. There is also a basic amount of alcohol to be served. This means the diet will be in hold or worse – in reverse. It has been on hold since the summer when the parties and vacations cut into the plans for weight loss. That was just after the birthday season and before that was the holiday season. My reason for any season involves food. And elastic.

“And the seasons they go round and round,” wrote Joni Mitchell. I do too.

People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. When you figure out which one it is, you will know what to do for each person.