In Which I Offer a Strong Opinion

Let me explain something.

Thanks for your time.

New Beginnings out the Wazoo

Get this: we went back to school yesterday. As in, August 10. I'll pause here to allow for expressions of outrage and sympathy. Isn't that early? It just seems crazy to me. Why can't we start after Labor Day like civilized people? Of course, we did get out before Memorial Day, but that was like ages ago and who even remembers that and WAH! But these girls seem happy enough.

This brings me to a story that I think is very illustrative of Laura's outlook and of how sometimes you realize you're parenting the child you were instead of the child you have:

We moved here three years ago, the June before she was to start Kindergarten. Also, Hank was born that June, so there was a lot for her to adjust to. The week before school started, I sat her down and tried to prepare her in case she was feeling overwhelmed.

I said, “The first morning when you get to kindergarten, you might feel scared, or you might feel a little lonely because you don’t know anyone, but it’s okay. I just wanted to tell you that a lot of kids will probably feel that way. Maybe you’ll even feel like you just want to come home.”

Laura listened to me and then said, “Or maybe I’m going to love it.”

That shut me right up, and I said, "Yes! Maybe you're going to love it!" I had this whole list of worries in my head, but they weren't her worries.

This is how I've learned from being her mom. She just never seems to dread a bad outcome, or she doesn't let fear keep her from trying things. The first time she was going to try out for swim team, at barely six years old, I was trying to give her a way out, saying, "You know, if you want to wait 'til next year to try swim team, we can just go enroll in another swim class for this year instead." I was worried that by suggesting swim team to her, I had set her up to be disappointed or embarrassed if she wasn't ready. She just said, "Well, can't I just try out, and if they say I'm not good enough, I'll just take more lessons?" Oh, well I'm glad one of us is the mature one.

I realized that we have limits in our heads--limits to what we think we can do or be, and if we're not careful, we put those limits right on our kids. I'm not kidding when I say that this was a huge learning moment for me as a parent. Another learning moment: say no to Floam.

So I wasn't surprised after her Open House the other night to hear Laura say, "I think it's going to be another great year."

***

In Hank news, that little stinker can climb out of his bed now. (He still sleeps in his crib.) For the last several days, instead of hearing him call, "Mama, I'm AWAKE!" every morning, he just appears at my bedside and begins ordering breakfast. It's kind of nice, actually. It makes him seem like a big kid now.

And he takes himself to the toilet now, too. People, it is AWESOME. I feel like, "All those months and years of nurturing you, little bud, and now this, THIS, is success!" Just in time for him to start nursery school next month.

So I guess my work here is done. Excuse me, I have to go to my room now and cry forever.

Eating the Pantry

A series of rash pronouncements have been made. The first came Friday night after I got home from a big grocery shopping trip. I was astounded at the food already crammed in our pantry and freezer. I said to Matt and the kids, "What if we just don't buy any more food in August? Like nothing except fresh milk and some produce? Let's see if we can eat what's here for three weeks." Matt was like, "Cool." It had the ring of a bold experiment to him. Laura said, "Is my life going to change in any way?" I said, "No, honey, it won't."

Then this morning, Matt took it upon himself to clean out and reorganize the pantry. I know. I walked right up to him in the kitchen and told him how hot he looked. When he was finished, he sought me out and said, "New rule: everything in the pantry must be visible. Nothing can be hiding behind anything else. I have to be able to see all the labels." I was like, now I'm totally Sleeping with the Enemy and I don't think I can swim that far. And he was all, huh? And I told him about the label thing in the movie and he was like, well maybe that guy wasn't all bad.

So I come out to the kitchen and there's a big array of boxes and pouches of food sitting out on the counter, not in the pantry at all, and I'm like, "What's this?" And Matt says that stuff won't fit into the pantry under the New World Order, and that we have to eat it. Not eat the exact stuff on the counter, not before everything else, but we have to eat some combination of the stuff on the counter and the stuff inside the pantry before we can put anymore in there. If we're eating the pantry, he said, this is how we do it.

Rewind: Last night I had pan-fried a couple of steaks. And they were not very satisfactory. I dunno why. I can grill my way around a steak, and I like them cooked on the stove too. But I didn't have the heavy cream and wine to go the whole steak au poivre route, so I improvised a little, and they wound up tasting kind of minute-steaky. Also maybe because they weren't the cut we usually get. But whatever, we had a lot of steak left over and neither of us was excited about it.

So come evening he says, "How do you feel about this steak?" and I was like, what can we do with it that will totally disguise its unlovely flavor? And we briefly discussed stroganoff, but I realized that that sounded gross too. He seized two packets from the Countertop Gallery of Extra Food, and said, "Let's make these instant mashed potatoes and cover the steak with it." And I was like, "What are those and who bought them?" We wound up making a kind of shepherd's pie affair with the steak cut into tiny pieces, frozen peas, shredded cheese, lots of pepper, and a can of cream of mushroom soup (the foundation of Southern cooking as I have learned it), all topped with the mashed potatoes and baked. It was definitely edible. We agreed that it reminded us of when you're a kid and you mix everything on your plate into one big pile. No doubt I will have a contract for a cookbook soon, so look for that.

As we ate, Matt commented that this was way better than the night two weeks from now when we have to eat the box of instant pad thai. Sweet Lord. Seriously, isn't it like there are food items in your house and you have no idea where they came from?

***

Eating the Pantry continued at nighttime cocktail hour, when Matt suggested we take drinks up to our bedroom while we put away laundry. I know. He looks hotter by the minute. So I said, "But we're out of vodka." Only I kind of wailed it. No matter, we googled the ingredients on hand, and discovered that indeed, tequila, orange juice, and grenadine make a Tequila Sunrise. I've never had one of these before, and sassy molassey, it's good. Tastes like the polícia will be showing up soon.

So that's what's on the menu here. I'll let you know how we go.

Meet My Next Victim

I am sorry, twenty-dollar Ikea yucca plant.



You drew the short straw. Good luck to you, sir.

Ask Suburban Matron: Guest Room "Relations"

Okay y'all, this one has me questioning everything that I understand about hospitality. A dear reader writes:

Dear Ms. Matron, here's a question that's been bugging me as we make our summer rounds of visiting family. I read in some magazine at the nail salon, maybe it was Redbook, that two-thirds of people think that it's NOT OKAY for their overnight houseguests to have, um, s-e-x while staying with them, like not even in the guestroom. The people they interviewed who were against it said things like, "I don't want to think about that going on in there," or just "It's rude. Gross!" And even more people said they never did it while staying at someone else's house, especially if they were staying with family. Without getting too personal, let me just say that this rule had not occurred to me! What do you think???

Thanks,

Mrs. Newlywed

Congratulations on your nuptials, Newlywed! And let me add that this is the reason that I always reach for Us Weekly or People at the nail salon. They're not likely to lay weird booby traps of etiquette-guilt. Because I'll say right up front that my first response to this was, speaking as a hostess, I don't care what people are up to in my guest room, as long as it doesn't set fire to the house. Opening your house to guests does not come with the power to regulate their intimate behaviors. And speaking as a guest, I think the guest room is a private space, as long as we're not creating a disturbance. If the mister and I have ever stayed at your house, just put your hands over your computer screen right now, but it certainly never entered my mind that business time, behind closed doors, could be bad guest behavior. That said, an overnight stay at someone's house is not the night I would choose to debut, like, my circus trainer/trapeze artist roleplaying fantasy. If such a thing were in my mind.

So have I missed something in the rulebook of hospitality? What do y'all think? If you feel inhibited from pursuing your amorous interests when staying at someone else's house, what does that feeling stem from? And if you would prefer that your guests don't get busy, tell us why. Did you have a really bad experience with guests that left you filing a claim on your homeowners' insurance? We are all ears.

Waterfall in Vanuatu

If you are needing a vacation from the photos of my vacation, you might want to skip this post. I understand, I do.

While Matt and I were staying in Port Vila, Vanuatu, one day we went to the Mele-Maat Cascades. We didn't know what to expect, but I thought it might be something like this.


Which is what I'd promised you guys. I swear that Matt did purchase that shirt (I'm sure you'll be seeing it.)

But it was so much better than that. A guide showed us the way to walk through a beautiful jungle, up to the falls. We saw wild ginger.

And breadfruit.

You could never go hungry in this place, as long as you like breadfruit. It is everywhere. Combine it with coconut, and wonderful things happen. Our guide said that the falls are owned by his village, the Mele people. We asked how many people lived there, and he said over four thousand. We were like, "Whoa, we wouldn't call that a village, we'd call that a town." He said that they're one village because they have their own chief and their own dialect, so that makes them a village. According to him, only the capital qualifies as a "town," and a city is somewhere like Sydney.

I took this along the trail up to the falls. I swear, the place really looks like this, like part of a ride at Disney World. Every place we went kind of messed with my mind this way. Matt and I were discussing the way that, when you've spent your whole life seeing copies of a place--like every restaurant, theme park, or Disney tableau that is trying to look like the South Pacific--when you actually go to the real place, you can't believe it really looks like that, that you're really there. And it reminds you of every copy you've ever seen. But about one thousand times better.

At the base of the falls, there were ropes you could hold onto to climb up to the splash pools. When we got to this point, we were giddy, like kids. To get to be in that scenery, and to swim in the water and look up at the falls, which were so different from any falls I've ever seen, was totally magical. One of the best things I've ever done, or seen, or experienced on any trip.

See the creepy face in the cliff? And here we are, not quite the so, so romantique picnic couple, but having a blast.

The water felt wonderful. I didn't bring my camera up this far, but some cheeful Australians snapped this of us with their waterproof camera. Pretty much anywhere you go in that part of the world, there are some cheerful Australians right close by. Just look around when you need them. These particular cheerful Aussies actually followed through and emailed us the pics they took of us after they got home to Wagga Wagga. (Or I think it was Wagga Wagga.) Nice folks.

This has been another postcard from Vanuatu. If you haven't already, and you get a chance to go swim in a waterfall, any waterfall anywhere, please do so at your earliest convenience.

Snipes on a Plane

Last night I boarded my flight in LA to come back home from my weekend trip. As I inched back towards my seat in 999A, I saw that another lady was already seated in the row. My seat was the window, and she was in the aisle seat, so I did that semi-apologetic gesture that you do that means, "I need to get in there, please." It has a smile and a nose-crinkle accompanying it--you know the one. I think I also said, "That's me," while I pointed to my seat.

She moved her knees ever so slightly to the side. I waited, thinking she was just going to take a moment to compose herself before she pulled up out of the seat. A second passed. She said, "Ma'am, ma'am, come on!" Like I was the slowest person on earth.

I said, "Oh, I thought you were going to stand up."

And she said, "I don't have time for that." ("I don't have time for that." She didn't have time for that, y'all.)

"O-kay," I chirped brightly, as I climbed over her.

Guess who got a good faceful of my new Gap Long and Leans?

Isn't it amazing when sometimes you really feel the love that surrounds you?

Then a hipster guy got in the middle seat, serving as a buffer. Then I, the hipster, and that total bitch flew away from the setting sun, three children of the universe, each carrying our own dreams, fears, and wishes into the purple night. Also we watched Star Trek.

***

Matt met me at the airport at midnight. The kids are down in Pensacola with mom and dad, so it felt like the old days. We came home to a big empty house. We're looking forward to a few days of good work time, and to getting to go out at night without a babysitter. And night is the only time I'll be stepping out of the house, because it is hot as blazes. Hope y'all are well and that you're feeling the love.

Hey Neighbor, We Can See Your Baby

This is totally freaky.  I am in Los Angeles, having arrived today to spend the weekend visiting my friend Erika and slurping on her new baby.  He is five months old and nearly edible in his cuteness.  Erika has a newfangled baby monitor with video.  I swear, even three years ago, when Hank was born, these weren't common, I don't think.  The little night vision camera is trained on the baby's crib, and when she puts him down to sleep, we thrill to his every movement and snurgle.  The night vision makes his crib mattress and jammies look white, and the whole visual reminds me of those ghosthunter shows on cable where people run around a house in the dark, and everything looks sort of scary even though it is basically normal.  

My friend tipped me off to the fact that if we switch channels on the video receiver, we can see into the crib of a baby girl two houses down.  This is so strange, and funny, and cute, and potentially creepy to me.  Her name is Lily, and she is about the same age as the baby of the house here.  My friend has met the parents (they are new in the neighborhood), but hasn't talked to them since she discovered the Lily channel.  What makes it so uncanny is that the two crib scenes are nearly identical. In fact, you can really only tell the two shots apart by the camera position. Erika's baby favors more close-up shots, and Lily has a slightly wider angle. But Lily's bedding looks white too, as do her jammies, and the babies don't look all that different by night vision.  When Erika discovered this, she thought she was seeing her own baby, but that the camera had been knocked askew.  

I have heard of people picking up other children and other broadcasts on their audio baby monitors, but somehow the addition of the picture is a whole 'nother thing.  Strange, right?  It's such an intimate scene from a stranger's house, but it's not really individual or unique, exactly, because both baby channels show pretty much the same programming.  At around 7:30, when Erika had just put her baby down to bed, we said, "Let's see if Lily is in bed." So we flipped over to her channel, and she was crying. We were like, "Oh no! Lily's upset! What's going on? Are they sleep-training with the cry-it-out method?"  Erika's husband, a more ethically-sensitive soul, said, "Don't spy on Lily." Erika said, "But it's out of love!"  Fortunately, some disembodied hands had just reached into Lily's bed to pat her and pick her up, so we felt relieved as we switched off the video.  All was quiet on the baby boy channel, and we went about our business.

A few minutes later, I said, "I have to check on Lily." I turned on the monitor, and she was in her crib crying again. Poor Lily! And poor parents of Lily! Again, thankfully for us spectators, the hands reached into the frame and picked the baby up, along with her blanket. After Erika and I switched off the video, we mused, "What sleep training method is this? In CIO (cry it out), do you actually pick up the baby or just go in and pat her? Maybe they're freestyling it? Is this Ferber? Weissbluth? Pantley? WE NEED TO KNOW."  We wanted to take a bottle of wine over to their house, but that might have been weird. Probably, definitely, would have been weird. 

   

This situation just captures the imagination, you know?  Now it is late at night, and both baby channels are quiet, thank goodness.  This could be the future of reality television, though, because it is oddly riveting.