Articles Published by Jean Lanahan
Fall of 2008
Notes from Momma's Journal......
November/OCTOBER/SEPTEMBER 2008
Published in The Wareham Observer, November 20, 2008; The Bourne Enterprise, November 28, 2008
Notes from Momma’s Journal: Boo… it’s Christmas!
I was at Wal-Mart a few days ago and was amazed that their shelves were already stocked in honor of St. Nick. How could this be? We just finished eating our Halloween candy and had yet to baste our Thanksgiving turkey.
While we were walking through the store, my daughters suddenly forgot why we were there – to buy a cell phone to replace Tom’s that fell overboard, deep into the sea. Since he doesn’t qualify for an AT&T upgrade for a few months, he’ll make do with an ordinary model for now. Besides, he doesn’t use any of the fancy bells and whistles anyway.
To get to the electronics department we had to walk past the latest CDs, DVDs, Wii’s, Xbox’s, Guitar Hero’s, lap tops, and flat screen TV’s. Lucky for me the electronics department is next to the shoe department. My kids have a passion for trying on slippers, sneakers, and clogs, so I knew where they’d be for the next twenty minutes.
Ever wonder who designed the layout of Wal-Mart? A marketing genius, in my opinion. Ever notice that there’s no easy way to find one or two things you need without passing trillions of “Rollback” items every family must have: coats, games, electronics, pet supplies, snacks, dinnerware, bread, kitchen gadgets, office supplies, Christmas lights, jewelry, candy, books?… It’s no wonder Wal-Mart is flourishing while their neighboring stores are failing. Talk about one stop shopping at its best.
After one hour in Wally World, we left the store with a new cell phone, pencils, paper towels, shampoo, a shower curtain, dog bones, brownie mix, and two long Christmas lists.
On the way home, I reminded the girls that Thanksgiving is about giving thanks. It’s about making a list of the arts and craft supplies and salsa ingredients we’ll need to make homemade gifts for our family and friends. Thanksgiving is not about making lists of gifts we hope to receive. It’s not about racing to the malls on Black Friday to buy the biggest and best toys or electronics. Why bother anyway? Unfortunately for many local businesses, there will be plenty of ‘going out of business’ sales to be found in the upcoming weeks.
When I was about the same age as my girls, we were, well, poor. My mother didn’t need to explain our status, we knew; and my sister and I also knew our mother did the best with the little that we had. I don’t want to horrify my kids about the bleak state of the economy, but they need to understand that money doesn’t grow on trees - and that credit card purchases are just that, bought on borrowed money.
Thinking of past Christmases brings back a memory of the best Christmas gift I ever received. It was simple, yet so awesome. It was a tie-dyed duffle bag filled with individually wrapped pajamas, underwear, big pink plastic rollers, bobby pins, hair tonics and brushes, sweet smelling bath items, and a few paint-by-number kits. Back in the early 70’s, my mother probably spent around $5 – and many hours - putting the gift together.
My girls have outgrown the Dear Santa letter writing stage. My hope is that they’ll appreciate the thoughtful little gifts that Santa’s helpers make while they sleep.
I know I’m not alone in admitting that I, truly, am thankful - and yet I’m worried too. It’s going to be long winter.
Jean Lanahan of Sagamore Beach chronicles the ‘chaotic joys’ of parenthood. Find her online at www.jeanlanahan.com
Published in The Wareham Observer, November 13, 2008
Notes from Momma’s Journal: Fall Back… Spring Forward...
My nine year old daughter asked me about the logistics of Fall Back, Spring Forward. I tried to explain, simply, that we change our clocks to add daylight to our days in hopes that we’ll conserve energy. When she questioned me as to why it gets darker earlier, and what does early darkness have to do with saving energy, I did what most parents would. We googled Daylight Saving Time. Here’s our findings:
“In the winter, the afternoon DST advantage is offset by the morning's need for more lighting. In spring and fall, the advantage is less than one hour. So, Daylight Saving Time saves energy for lighting in all seasons of the year except for the four darkest months of the year (November, December, January and February) when the afternoon advantage is offset by the need for lighting because of late sunrise.”
Jackie replied, “I don’t get it, Mom.”
“Maybe this will clarify things,” I said. “Here’s what Winston Churchhill said about DST: ‘An extra yawn one morning in the springtime, an extra snooze one night in the autumn is all that we ask in return for dazzling gifts. We borrow an hour one night in April; we pay it back with golden interest five months later’."
“That’s more confusing, Mom.”
“Well, what about Benjamin Franklin’s famous proverb? ‘Early to bed, and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise’."
Jackie’s look said it all. I had to admit, “It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me either, Jackie. Just understand that it’s all about conserving energy. And remember to shut lights off when they’re not in use.”
At our house, we are trying, wholeheartedly, to live more with less. With regards to food, that means it’s mostly home cooked around here. That means saving money and eating healthier meals, but it also means using more electricity, energy, in the kitchen. Summer is for cooking outdoors and eating popsicles on the front porch. But the cold months, they were meant for creating stews or chowders that sit on the stove, brewing, for hours. And then there’s dessert. Is there anything more relaxing and satisfying than sitting in front of a wood burning stove eating a piece of warm, homemade, pumpkin pie? I think not.
Who are DST opponents/advocates? It depends on the season. In the spring, morning people get deprived an hour of morning light. In the fall, night people get deprived an hour of evening light. Goes with the territory. But just because it gets darker earlier doesn’t mean I go to bed earlier. My internal clock is what it is. I know many people who are most creative and energetic during the evening hours. And yes, like other night people, odds are good that the computer, TV, dishwasher, and clothes dryer are working while we are.
If members of our household were to vote on the changing of the clocks, it would be a deadlock. Given the choice, two of us would go to bed at midnight and wake eight or nine hours later. The other two would rise and retire a good three hours prior to us night people. That means (technically) that there’s no significant energy savings in our house. They turn lights off, we turn them on. My husband and I are on constant light patrol.
Perhaps the best message we all should appreciate about DST is to focus on living more conservatively. If we commit to living with less, we will save more than just energy.
* * * *
Jean Lanahan of Bourne chronicles the ‘chaotic joys’ of parenthood. She is counting the days to Spring Forward. Find her online at jeanlanahan.com
Published in The Wareham Observer, November 6, 2008
Notes from Momma’s Journal: The Power of Wonder –
While driving down the road this morning, I started thinking about the presidential candidates and what they may be doing or feeling right now. Trembling over defeat? Celebrating their victory? Chattering over the ‘what if’s and whys’ of their campaign? Cracking open another bottle of champagne?
Anyway, the ‘wondering session’ got real weird.
I wondered about June Cleaver and what she may be doing with her time these days. Why didn’t she run for president? Theodore and Wally must have moved out of the house. Perhaps they are busy working at Eddie Haskell’s used car lot. Surely Ward is retired and June must have a driver’s license by now.
And then the visions of how she spends her days:
June wakes at 6:10 and serves freshly diced fruit and brewed coffee at her linen covered table. She’s dressed in a stylish leotard under her neatly ironed warm-up suit. (And, yes, June still sports small pearl earrings.)
Off she goes for a power walk around the neighborhood. After finishing freshly squeezed juice and an entire bottle of Evian to wash down a mega pack of vitamins, June leads her 700 series BMW to the 7:45 yoga class where nine perfectly manicured white and silver/blue haired women stretch and meditate for one hour.
Next stop, the library, to discuss this week’s book club reading assignment: Man’s Search for Meaning (by Viktor Frankel).
After reflecting upon the miracles of living, June spends the next few hours volunteering at a day care center where she teaches lessons of etiquette to staff and attendees. She loves what she does at the center but calls it quits in time to get to her son’s house before Beaver’s twin grandsons descend from high school bus.
At Beav’s house, June does what she’s done all her life – she mothers everyone and everything around her. June then hurries home to prepare Ward’s dinner: a low fat, low cholesterol, protein enriched, high in fiber masterpiece. Salmon and veggies a’la June.
After the china is hand washed and put away, June changes into an Armani pant suit and Manolo Blahnik shoes and off she goes again!
At exactly 6:57 pm, Mrs. Cleaver and her guest, ‘Joe The Plumber’ smile as the camera men of The June Cleaver Show announce, “Three minutes till showtime”.
Five, four, three, two, one…..
”We’re live with June and Joe to discuss the outcome of the biggest presidential election of our time. Stay tuned for the inside facts.”
****Please tell me that I’m not the only mother to wonder about what other mothers have done, didn’t do, will do, want to do (in mind, body, and spirit).
Note: June Cleaver (Barbara Billingsley) is 92. She lives in California and has a myspace account.
I’m Jean Lanahan (of Sagamore Beach) and I approve of this message. www.jeanlanahan.com
Published in The Bourne Enterprise, October 31, 2008
Notes from Momma's Journal: Happy New Year to Me
The weather is changing, the leaves are falling, and days are getting shorter. At our house, bed time routines are in place and the kids are excited about their classes and their fall activities. Summertime bed linens and curtains have been replaced with warmer materials. The logs in the wood burner are afire and the crock-pot in the kitchen has been working overtime.
October has always been one of my favorite months. A transitional month. Birthday month. My mother, sister, and I were all born in October. Growing up our house (a tiny apartment) was filled with food, family, and friends for weeks on end. It was like celebrating the start of a new year, only better and longer.
The month long merriment has changed since my mother died eight years ago, but my sister and I still celebrate our mother’s birthday by sharing special memories, funny stories, and yes, solemn thoughts. (You know, the “what if, why, and if only” sentiments that remain long after the loss of a loved one. They’ll probably never go away which is why my sister and I opt to reminisce the best of times we had with our mother as well as what the future brings for each of us.)
I’ve never been diligent about making New Year’s resolution on December 31, but doing so on my birthday is an easy task. The start of a new year; the first day of the rest of my life! A perfect time to evaluate my interests and weaknesses and set goals to strive towards.
During my 47th year, I resolve to (in no particular order):
* Yell at my kids (only) when they need be reprimanded, and hug them (even) when they need not be hugged.
* Plan a once a week date night with my husband.
* Write words if sentiment to my daughters thanking them for the awesome surprise birthday party they put together for me.
* Read a good novel every month.
* Clean out the attic, cellar, shed and closets - and donate items to the needy that haven’t been worn, or touched – since last year.
* Set kitchen timer to chime in two hours on the days that I’m in an overly energetic cleaning mood.
* Find a rewarding, good-paying job. (Part-time, of course.)
* Learn to live more with less.
* Use a telephone instead of email (whenever possible) to reach out and touch those in my thoughts.
* Cook no more than two crock-pot meals per week.
* Be a better listener.
* Tell my children more stories about their relatives and ancestors and how much they mean/meant to us.
* Laugh if all else says cry.
* Study the subjects my children are learning about in school.
* Continue making wishes upon stars and sending prayers to my Guardian Angels.
* Publish the cookbook my sister and I have (nearly) completed.
* Learn to go with the flow when the tide unexpectedly turns.
* Believe in myself, always.
Wish me luck!
“The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself.”
- Anna Quindlen (Author and Columnist)
Jean Lanahan of Sagamore Beach chronicles the “chaotic joys” - the rewards and challenges - of parenthood. Find her online at www.jeanlanahan.com
Published in Wareham Observer, October 30, 2008
Notes from Momma’s Journal: It’s Always Something !!!
The timing of Halloween this year stinks. First of all, it falls on a Friday. That means my daughters will insist upon trick-or-treating later than if the coolest holiday of the year was on a weeknight. Being Friday, they don’t have homework or the need to organize their clothes and backpacks for school. For them, it’s party time! I can see the writing on the wall. Trick-or-treating followed by a sleepover, which means I’ll be busy most of the night with taming four or five chocolate filled girls. Oh no!
Another reason that I not excited about Halloween this year is because we are in the midst of settling some family issues around here. Why it is that parents are asked to explain our decision making process? Here it is girls:
Yes means yes.
No is no.
Maybe is just that, a big fat maybe.
Why? Because we’re the parents and we said so!
A few family meetings later and the lines of communication have been cleared, yet celebrating Halloween seems a premature reward for actions yet to be seen as changed. As Gilda Radna so eloquently reported, “Well Jane, it's always something. If it's not one thing, it's another thing, but it's always something."
I’ll admit that the major reason I’m not looking forward to Halloween this year is because it happens to fall right in the middle of my ‘bad’ week. A week of torture during which perimenopausal women aim to survive. Those moments in time about which, in my Rosanne Rosanna Danna voice, I’ll share my feelings with you:
“I’m puffy, I don’t have a costume ‘cause none of my clothes fit, my dog is a jerk, my kids are fresh, my husband works too much, my computer is slow, and I have cramps!
My teeny, little, teeny, weenie daughter wants to be midnight fairy, and my other daughter - who used to be little, teeny, weenie, but now she’s tweeny - wants to be cool and paint her hair orange!
I don’t want walk up to houses where people are all happy and pass out cute little bags of cute little bitsy homemade candies.
I have hot flashes, my hormones are on fire, I’m sweating, and I have gas!
I’m cranky and I don’t want to play!”
Wait a minute. That means the kids win again. Their wish is for mom and dad to stay home and pass out candy while they frolic the streets with their friends. Their want is to go trick-or-treating in nearby neighborhoods where hundreds of jack-o-lanterns light windows. Their desire is to fill their pumpkin bags with candy and eat sugar until they can eat it no more.
Booo! I’m starting to feel a little better. A brisk walk through the neighborhood - and a chocolate bar - would do me some good tonight. Besides, tomorrow it will be something else. For sure, it’s always something!
“Wait up, kids!”
Jean Lanahan of Bourne chronicles the ‘chaotic joys’ – the rewards and challenges – of life with children. Find her online at jeanlanahan.com
In Wareham Observer October 16, 2008; Bourne Enterprise, October 24, 2008
Notes From Momma’s Journal: An Adventure to Remember
Four coach busses arrived at Bourne Middle School at daybreak on Monday, October 6th. They were loaded with sleeping bags, duffle bags, and the most precious of cargo – our sixth grade class – and off they went. Destination: Nature’s Classroom in Colebook, Connectitut, some 180 miles away. Home to our children for four days and three nights. A place where they’ll explore the great outdoors. A time when they’ll be chaperoned by people we’ve never met. Oh my. For the next 88 hours, I worried.
Who will ensure that my daughter is eating property, dressing warmly, and writing in her journal?
How will she sleep in a strange bed in a cabin where, I presume, black out shades and white noise fans don’t exist?
What if a scuffle arises between a few of her 14 cabinmates? Will her Cabin Mother treat each student fairly, as if they were her own?
What if no one shares bug spray and/or a flashlight (because hers were left on the back seat of our van)? Will Liz get bitten – or lost – during their expeditions in the wild?
How is my daughter going to get through four full days without talking with her parents? Surely she’ll need our assurance about some thing or another.
During the chaotic after-school/dinnertime hours, my youngest and I busied ourselves. She breezed through her homework. (I am thankful that fourth grade homework hasn’t changed much in two years.) We organized closets and created homemade desserts. Jackie helped her dad build an area for our chickens to wander to and from the garden. She even celebrated an “all about Jackie afternoon” with her Auntie Lisa. I just hope that little one doesn’t brag to Liz about all the cool things she did while her sister was so far away from home.
Finally, Thursday night arrived. After hugging Liz to pieces, we gathered her bags and headed home. In the car, she immediately began searching the glove box for her cell phone and a stray piece of gum or candy. The radio got tuned onto Kiss 108.
“Mom, do you have any idea how hard it’s been not to have gum, a cell phone, or music these last four days?”
“I can only imagine, but please close the phone and turn off the music so we can chat. I missed you and want to hear all the details.”
“I missed you too, Mom. We have all weekend to spend together and talk. I just want to relax and enjoy the gum and music for a few minutes.”…
It took three days to wash/dry/put away the contents of her suitcases and just as long to hear the particulars about the trip. I was happy to see that the winter jacket Liz did not want to bring was well worn (and about the missing bug spray and flashlight, still no mention).
“The 80 foot slide – cool. … The dining hall –great. … The boys on my team – OK. … The seats on the bus – comfy. … The bathroom on the bus – gross. …. The bunk beds – uncomfortable. … Mrs. Salamone – an awesome camper.”
Unlike my friends with sons who attended nature’s classroom, I heard very little about “Camouflage” games in the woods or the art of dissecting frogs. No matter. I’m grateful that my daughter’s first trip away from home went so smoothly.
To all of you teachers, BMS staff members, chaperones, and NC personnel who worked hard to ensure the success of this year’s Nature’s Classroom experience, “THANK YOU”!
Jean Lanahan of Sagamore Beach. Find her online at www.jeanlanahan.com
In Wareham Observer, October 2, 2008; Sandwich Enterprise, October 10, 2008; Bourne Enterprise, October 17, 2008
Notes from Momma’s Journal: Take Time to LOL
I did something this past week that I swore I would not do. Not until next year anyway. I walked into an AT&T store and asked the clerk for help with picking out a phone for my 12 year old daughter. “It has to have a camera and texting capability,” I told him.
He gave me a curt, “Okay… but if you want a phone with built-in GPS, let’s look over there.”
“No thanks. A simple ‘testing/camera’ phone is all I’m after.”
(Later, I was informed that all phones have text-messaging capabilities and that most have cameras. How was I to know?)
Liz opened her birthday gift and immediately began setting its ring tone, screen saver, away message, contact list, and alarm clock. She’s a pro at this, after using my phone as the demo model these past few months. To locate it, I just had to dial my number and hear, “It’s for me, Mom.”
The icing on the cake that helped me decide to regain control of my phone was a scene at the grocery store the other day. I heard a phone ringing, loudly, blasting the song, “That girl is so dangerous. Dangerous…..” To my dismay it was my phone – buried at the bottom of my purse. The day before, it took me an hour to get ‘it’ out of vibrate mode, so you can imagine how much time I spent trying to delete this embarrassing ring tone. I opted to turn the phone off until Liz got home from school and, effortlessly, she changed the ringer back to its generic AT&T song, checked “her” text messages, and dialed up a friend. “It’s that easy?” I whispered to myself.
I’m not about keeping up with the Jones’ kids (yes, most of them own cell phones), but I am coming to terms with the fact that our children are growing up in a technology-driven world. Even young kids instinctively seem to know how to take pictures and modify screen savers. It’s amazing to me because I’m still hesitant of those tasks. (My youngest just proved to me that our DVR has the capability to stop or rewind television shows. Imagine!?) Am I the only techno-idiot left?
Our children’s excitement about advancing technology leaves parents with two choices: do nothing or get involved. Involvement means being tuned in, connected, and educated. I choose to get with the program, but not without help….
My hope is that while Liz gives her dear old mom cell phone 101 lessons, we’ll chat about happenings at school or around town. Perhaps we’ll even discuss boys and who likes who on the school bus? Maybe our sessions will become a meeting place; an opportunity to clear clogged communication channels between parent and tween? Surely she can teach me the basics of text messaging so I can send her impromptu notes.
I can’t wait to surprise her with my knowledge that both acronyms ‘ILU’ and ‘ILY’ mean “I love you”.
Okay, so I googled ‘chat abbreviations’. What (techno) Mother doesn’t at least aim to stay one step ahead of her tribe?
(JK, kids. LOL:-) XOXO, Mom.)
Jean Lanahan of Bourne, author of “Enchanted Whispers: Wit & Wisdom from the Mouths of Babes (and Momma too). Find her online at www.jeanlanahan.com
Published in The Bourne Enterprise, November 14, 2008
In Wareham Observer, October 9, 2008
Notes from Momma’s Journal: Nighttime Rituals
When my children were younger, 7:25 pm was time to announce, “Let’s clean up and get ready for bed, kids.” Those few simple words, amazingly, turned two tired children into the energizer bunnies who attempted to accomplish whatever they could for as long as they could.
Once we convinced the kids that it was indeed clean up time, it happened. Every toy that was touched, nudged, moved, or breathed upon came alive.
Ernie snores and belts out, “I feel great!”
Woody yells, “Howdy partner.”
Barney’s guitar strums, “I love you. You love me…”
Scooby Doo grunts, “Rut Ro.”
A little Chinese doll sings, “It’s a Small World.”
And something else, from way inside of the toy box hums, “God Bless America.”
After fifteen minutes of complete mayhem, Tom and I declared, “That’s it, bedtime!” Next was the ritual, the night time question and answer session:
“But Mom, remember you said we could make brownies tonight?”
“And what about my play date with Shannon who lives in Weymouth? When can we see her?”
“Can I plan a play date, a sleep over one, for tomorrow?”
“Can we make pancakes in the morning?”
“If it rains tomorrow, can we still make pancakes and then go to Ryan Family Amusement?”
“Girls, tomorrow is a brand new day so let’s see what it brings. Night-night. Sleep tight.”
Now that my girls are “tweens” (a phrase created by marketing geniuses who target impressionable half child/half teen kids between the ages of 8 and 14), our night time ritual is a little different, and yet a whole lot of the same. Again, the question and answer session begins at bedtime, but pay close attention to who has all the answers now.
“Girls, homework finished? Are you showered? Teeth and hair brushed? Backpacks and clothes ready for tomorrow? Lights out at 9 o’clock. Remember?”
“Yes, Mom. Homework is done and we’re all cleaned up.”
“I’ll put away my backpack after I find my favorite jeans and check my email.”
“I can’t go to bed yet. A new episode of ‘Jon and Kate Plus 8’ just started and it doesn’t end till 9:30.”
“I heard there’s a sale going on at American Eagle. Let’s check it out on Friday.”
“There’s a BMS after-school program permission slip on the table that needs your signature. It’s due tomorrow, Mom.”
“And Mom, I’d like to order the Junie B. Jones book I circled in the order form. It’s on the microwave and the money has to be paid by tomorrow.”
Once my girls are tucked into their beds – with tomorrow’s clothes and backpacks in their respective places - I tiptoe into their rooms, just as I’ve done every night of their young lives. Gently moving strands of moist hair from their foreheads, I watch them sleep, visualizing their thoughts…
Kids – even ‘tweens’ - dream about today, which ended before they had a chance to do, well, the trillion things they wanted to do. They dream about the future too. The best parts anyway.
Some things change so quickly, and others don’t (and I hope they never will). May all of our tomorrows be filled with nonsense, promise, and a wee bit of certainty.
Jean Lanahan of Sagamore Beach chronicles the “chaotic joys” - the rewards and challenges - of parenthood. Find her online at www.jeanlanahan.com
Published in The Bourne Enterprise, October 3, 2008; in The Wareham Observer, September 25, 2008
Notes from Momma's Journal: Soccer is in the air
Duffle bag - filled with juice boxes, cheese crackers, water bottles, grocery circulars, sweaters, bug spray, cell phone, sunscreen, and first aid kit - is loaded in the back of our minivan.
Youngest daughter - clad in clean soccer shirt, black shorts, shin pads, knee socks and cleats - is waiting patiently on the front steps.
Oldest daughter - wearing her ‘good’ jeans, a designer sweatshirt, and flip flops - is outside searching for Mom’s cell phone in the duffle bag.
Mother - dressed in thermal tee, sweatpants, white socks, and crocks - is scurrying to get to the game on time.
Now that my nine year old has fallen in love with soccer, odds are great that we’ll be spending the next four or five Saturday mornings at the buzzing soccer fields. I’m still a novice at this soccer scene but I quickly discovered that soccer games are social events; the perfect place to chat with other parents about school happenings, the high price of groceries, and the lack of issues being presented by our presidential candidates.
Prior to soccer, my girls spent many an hour learning the basics of karate, swimming, and gymnastics. But my daughters’ love of song and dance – on or off stage – has taken precedence these past few years. Call me a “drama mom.” I don’t mind. I have friends with children who spend oodles of time at hockey rinks. Dare we call them “hockey moms”? I know many families who are involved in Baseball. Are they considered “baseball moms”? And the mothers of football players or cheerleaders, can we call them “football moms”? What about basketball? Are they called “hoop moms”?
Perhaps, but for the record, we’re just Moms. Demographically, however, we’re a very elite group of women: The Soccer Moms! The Swingers! (Not to worry, Dads. You’ll see where this is going.)
The term “soccer mom” took on demographic meaning in 1994 when Susan Cases ran for Denver city council. Her slogan was “A Soccer Mom for City Council”. Gee, I wonder who she was targeting?….Susan won the election with 51% of the vote.
During the 1996 Presidential campaign, the phrase “soccer mom” came into widespread use when the Clinton administration strategically targeted their campaign efforts toward married, middle class, suburban mothers of school aged children. The soccer moms. The key ‘swing’ consumers in the marketplace. The key ‘swing’ voters to decide his election. Pretty good thinkin’, Clinton.
Since then, the media has had a heyday portraying soccer moms as drivers (and buyers) of SUV’s, minivans, or station wagons. Soccer moms are busy nurturing children, balancing the family budget, running a household, smearing on expensive eye creams, and carting kids to their multiple extracurricular commitments. Okay, so I guess I am a soccer mom; however, I have a really hard time with multitasking the kids’ activities. One activity at a time, per child, is about all this mom can handle.
I find it interesting that the 2008 fall soccer season ends just days before the biggest election of our time. My hope is that we hear from our candidates - about the important issues - before our kids hang up their cleats.
“Do we spend our money filling our gas tanks or stocking up on bottled water and canned goods? Shall we wash with Polmolive or Ivory? Will we wear Chapstick or lipstick? Should it be Obama and Biden or McCain and Palin? ”
Jean Lanahan of Bourne is author of “Enchanted Whispers: Wit & Wisdom from the Mouths of Babes (and Momma too).” Find her online at www.jeanlanahan.com
Published in The Bourne Enterprise, September 25, 2008; The Sandwich Enterprise, September 19, 2008; The Wareham Observer , September 13, 2008
Notes from Momma’s Journal: Florence Nightingale lives in all of us
My oldest daughter came home from school today in a great mood. Imagine being excited about going to see a doctor; an orthopedic specialist at that. She fractured her wrist on the Thursday before Labor Day (just three days into the school year) when a barking dog, a patch of sand, faulty brakes, and a telephone pole were to blame for her bicycle accident. After spending an evening in Jordan Hospital’s E.R. – and the next morning in the O.R. (yes, setting a fractured wrist is a surgical procedure requiring anesthesia), we went home with a lime green appendage from her fingers tips to her armpit.
As the doctor was reviewing today’s films, Liz was busy thinking about the color of her new – waterproof, smaller - cast. He brought us closer to the screen and said, “To ensure the wrist doesn’t slip, you have to keep this cast on for another few weeks. We’ll talk about shortening the cast on your next visit. In the meantime, don’t use hard objects to itch under your cast. Be sure to keep your arm still, elevated, dry, and clean.”.….
How very selfish of me to stop listening at that point. All I could think about was how unfair this was for both of us. What preteen wants to rely on her mother to do simple tasks such as tie her sneakers, put her hair up in a ‘messy bun’, or dig straws out of a cast? None that I know.
Have you any idea of how many water bottles, pickle jars, snack packages, Popsicle wrappers, backpack zippers, three-ring binders, markers, and Ipod holders need to be opened or closed in any given day? I stopped counting.
And why would anyone insist upon using the following items multiple times during the course of one day: deodorant, body mist, mascara, hair gel, mouthwash, nail polish, shampoo, and electric hair straighteners? How many of these items can be opened or used single handedly? None. Believe me. I’ve tried.
The doctor was still talking and Liz was patiently listening. I was amazed at how well she took the news. “At least it doesn’t hurt anymore, Mom. It just itches. And good thing it’s still warm enough to wear short sleeves.” She seems to have forgotten that she’s not been able to wear any of her new school clothes. When Aeropostale designed their clothing they didn’t take into consideration that, perhaps, arms larger than twigs may want to squeeze into their shirts.
And so, the fact remains: Liz still needs her Mom. Perhaps as much as I need my daughter to know that I’ll be there, always. We’ll see the doctor again two days before her twelfth birthday. He’ll give her a new cast. She’ll have use of her arm again. She’ll be busy in her room rearranging clothes, books, electronics, and beauty supply products that I’ve worked so hard to organize. She’ll be listening to music and chatting on the phone behind a closed door bearing a ‘do not enter’ sign.
As for Mom, that’s when I’ll put away my lamp. For now anyway.
Jean Lanahan of Bourne, author of Enchanted Whispers: Wit & Wisdom from the Mouths of Babes (and Momma too). Find her online at www.jeanlanahan.com
Published in The Bourne Enterprise, Friday, September 5, 2008
Notes from Momma's Journal: Farm Stand Mania
If you have a large garden area, doesn't it make sense to plant 20 of each of your favorite vegetables as opposed to just a few? And does it really take that much more time to sow 30 rows of corn instead of a mere 10? Absolutely, but what the heck! “The bigger the better” is our gardening motto!
Then the fruits of labor appear, and appear, and appear some more. Some get canned or frozen and many are shared with family and friends. However, when you sow as many plants as we do, there’s bound to be more than plenty of fruit to go around.
My entrepreneurial mind never sleeps. Why not set up an old fashioned road side Farm Stand right here in Sagamore Beach? What a great summer job for me and the girls. A little reward for our hard work. A few dollars towards a rainy day trip to the movies. A fund for the next water bill..…..
So that’s what we did a few summers ago. All it took was lots of healthy crops, a few able and willing bodies, a beat up picnic table, an erasable white board, a scale, and a coffee can. And yes, a whole lot of perseverance and a wee bit of luck to add to the equation.
My husband and I take care of the watering and weeding but the kids are enthusiastic about picking ripe veggies and handling the ‘coffee can’ (the ‘movie’ fund). “Mom, the wheel barrels are full. Time to hang the Farm Stand Open sign.”
I love that my daughters are learning vital retail/customer service skills and gaining first hand knowledge that sincere phrases such as, “Thank you. Enjoy. Nice to see you. Come again. Picked today. Homegrown,” go a long way. (Psst….The phonemic spelling for farm (stand) is ‘fahrm’, almost as if the “H” represents HOMEGROWN?! Note to consumers: Beware of farm stand produce with ‘stickers’ from another farm/store.)
Last spring, while we were busy sowing seeds and shoveling horse poop, it seems that many of our neighbors were also. Busy enough to label our part of the road “Farm Stand Highway”. So much for luck and/or going to the movies this past summer.
Oh well. Be it human nature - or the American way – to jump on the band wagon (or on the wheel barrel in this case).
The traffic around here should slow down a bit so I can’t help but wonder what’s next?
I wonder if my neighbors have pumpkins or potatoes or butternut squash emerging in their gardens? We do.
I wonder if my neighbors have chickens that are near ready to lay fresh, delicious, organic eggs? We do.
I wonder if/when my husband will start erecting a huge green house? He will.
I wonder if we’ll fill our ‘can’ this fall? Maybe.
Jean Lanahan of Bourne, an avid gardener and author of "Enchanted Whispers: Wit & Wisdom from the Mouths of Babes (and Momma too)" . Find her online at www.jeanlanahan.com
