My Recent Affliction

This is my most recent Free-Range Parenting column. Enjoy!

It seems that my household, for now at least, has escaped the scourge of the swine flu. Recently, however, I have realized that I may suffer from something even more sinister and hard to shake – the Whine Flu. It’s contagious as well, and I fear my children are catching it from me, given the state of their discontent lately.

I have never been a glass-half-full, rose-colored glasses kind of girl, and have always chalked it up to being a divergent thinker. But a remark from my daughter’s dance teacher made me sit up and do a little self-reflection. During a grueling 2-hour marathon of dance photos recently, I told the teacher we’d all be happier if the pictures were cancelled, because it takes up a whole Saturday when we could certainly be doing something more interesting. The teacher looked me in the eye and asked if I ever stop complaining.

I had a mental flashback to all the conversations I’ve had with her recently, and had to concede she was right! The shame. I have complained about dress rehearsals, the schedule and the cost of summer classes.

So I, being a former science fair champion, embarked on a scientific study of my behavior. Over the course of 2 days, I deliberately made notes of every time I whined about something. It was quite shocking! Some of the things included being cut off in traffic by an octogenarian who proceeded to go 15 miles an hour down Water Street, even though no one was behind me and if they had just waited 5 seconds for me to pass I could have gotten to Starbucks more quickly and avoided the long line there; the weather; a splinter in my foot that is stuck under the skin and still making me perverse when I walk; mowing the lawn; my dirty, near-biohazardlike home; the terror-ific way my twins sometimes behave; and the short lunch period at my daughter’s school.

Not one of these things is particularly noteworthy, and most are the product of my own poor choices. Why do I think anyone wants to hear me discuss these things in minutae? I bet my poor, patient friends are rolling their eyes on the inside.

The next 2 days, I decided to be a veritable ray of sunshine sort of girl. You know the type, who take things in stride and seem to always be skipping, with a halo around their shiny-haired heads. I made eye contact with strangers and smiled; thanked a service worker for wiping my table in the mall food court; did not honk at idiot drivers who cut me off; refused to complain about the things niggling my mind; and cleaned up my house my very own self. I played with my children and took them places, causing my daughter to ask what was wrong with me and why was I being so smiley and fun. Hmmmm.

I am pleased to report that I felt a little better on the sunny side of the street. However, the Herculean effort it took to bite my tongue and lay off the car horn nearly wiped me out and caused me to have to lie down with a cool cloth across my forehead. It takes a lot of concentration to find things to talk about that do not involve complaining, at least for a curmudgeon like myself.

Psychologists say it takes 21 days to change a habit. Nineteen more to go, I suppose. Most likely, the Whine Flu will always be in my system. Now that I am aware of it, though, I am making what I hope is a valiant effort to at least push it into remission. And since kids learn by example, perhaps my darlings will never acquire a full-blown case.

In the meantime, my goal is to get through each day doing a little less whining and being a little more grateful for what I do have, which is everything I need plus a little bit more.

Impending Visit of Doom

Yes, my mother-in-law is descending upon us this weekend, not unlike a hurricane on the Gulf coast. I have been scurrying about in a vain attempt to make my house a showplace to appease her OCD, lest I have to listen to her muttering under her breath about how lazy I am for 4 straight days.

She once told me that when her children were small, she was given the option of hiring a housekeeper or a nanny. She chose the housekeeper, because she didn't trust anyone to clean her house properly. So much became crystal clear when I learned of that choice.

During our last visit, we were discussing homeschooling and she said she finally understood my positions on working outside the home and school. Direct quote: "I think you feel about your kids like how I feel about my house. You don't trust nobody to do it right." (She speaks with a heavy Vietnamese accent, she is not a hillbilly). I guess she is correct. Her kids are a mess, but her house is clean. I suppose I am the opposite.

We have a busy weekend ahead, with Anna's end of the year dance recital and school closing for the year. I am hoping her visit will be but a blur in my memory.

Crazy Headlines

One of my vices is compulsively reading pop culture tabloids in the grocery store checkout line and on the internet. Some things that have happened to celebrities by their own doing have caused me no end of entertainment and caused many questions, some inappropriate, to pop into my head.

The first is the untimely death of the star of Kung Fu David Carradine. Is it sad, pathetic or just downright hilarious that one of the first thoughts upon finding out the exact cause of death is that it would not be surprising if a certain member of my household met a similar fate? And how awful it must have been for Carradine's family...and at 72 years old. Oy vey.

And Chastity Bono is becoming a man. Named Chaz. Why anyone would do this is beyond my comprehension. Being a girl is so much fun! We can change our hair at whim, we are not hairy, we can wear skirts or pants and still be socially acceptable, we can giggle, read chick books, have babies and are generally enjoyable to be around.

Now, Chastity/Chaz is a lesbian. My question is this: once she is a man, will she just be a boring straight guy?

Then, there is the whole Jon and Kate thing. Jon is a weenie and Kate is a shrew. It's those kids I worry the most about. The most disturbing thing by far, though, is Kate's hair. Who in the name of all that is holy would deliberately cut someone's hair like that? It's like a reverse mullett, porcupine-butt, Flock of Seagulls look gone all wrong. If only her hair was cute, she'd be able to be happy. And then maybe she'd like her kids, even the icky boys.

Things I don't care about include who Kate Hudson is dating, who is pregnant and the goings on of holier-than-thou Brangelina with their spawn.

Why I am I celebrity obsessed? Aren't we all? I think it's because I can envision myself as a celebrity for the few moments I read the mags. Then I catch a glimpse of myself in the door glass as I depart, and reality sets back in. It also makes my own life seem so normal. In the last week, my children have:

1. Adopted a clan of slugs after a rainstorm. They are living in a bowl of mud on the porch.
2. Learned to make their own quesedillas.
3. Built an obstacle course for Lizzie the Lizard.
4. Drew more than 100 pictures of superheroes with which to decorate an entire bedroom.
5. Built an entire army barracks out of sticks at Sawyer Park with friends.

So normal. And so fine. I cannot wait for summer to commence!