Tuesday, June 9, 2015

Small Town Saturday Night

I don't have super high expectations of motel stays in small towns - I've learned that aiming low generally seems to be a decent way to approach most of life's slightly sketchy situations. You're much less likely to be disappointed (or disgusted) and much more likely to be thrilled about things that others with higher expectations of the world might have erroneously come to view as standard, like a working mini-fridge, say, or pillows that don't smell like they've been deep fried.

Come to think of it, lowered expectations may well be one of the key reasons I’m such a happy person. A more particular individual would have to write a scathing online review instead of a cheery blog, plus pay a lot more money for a better room somewhere else. Maybe somewhere they don’t fry their pillows.

But some things fall short of even my low bar. For instance, there is nothing quite like checking into a small-town motel at the end of a long day, only to discover popcorn and “hairs” IN the bed. I didn’t even know what my low bar was, exactly, until that moment of discovery, but it was immediately clear to me that IN the bed happens to be precisely where I draw the line.

My second thought after discovering my low bar setting was, “Aw, that guy must have been lonely.”

Another moment of clarity: apparently I feel like I can divine a lot about someone by the motel room debris they have left behind. Just imagine what the folks who actually clean (or in this case, “clean”) the rooms must know about their temporary tenants!

Third moment: I solemnly resolve to be more aware of the forensic judgement opportunities I present to cleaning staff.

But if I were to leave behind motel bed fillings for some other plucky traveler to find, what would really speak to my motel experience, in the way Mr. Prolly Jerking Off While Watching a Shitty Movie’s popcorn and pubes seemingly spoke to his? I’ve given this some serious consideration the past few days, and I propose that my motel story would best be told with Triscuit crumbs and dessicated plant fragments: 

Ms. Late Night Botany Session.

Monday, June 1, 2015

Ohmmmmmm...

The nature of impermanence: parenting edition*.

a. Amount for eligible dependant - check.
b. "You're the bestest Mommy ever!"
c. Age 4.**
d. Chores Chart.
e. Fresh batch of cookies.
f. "Everyone empty their bladders before we leave."
g. Wow, no one is sick right now.
h. "This is my favourite food!"
i. "My Legos are all picked up!"
j. The house is clea... aww.
k. The laundry is d.... aww.
l. This will be a fun craft.

* Decreasing exponential scale.
** Perceived time may be significantly greater than actually experienced.

Sunday, May 17, 2015

Parent Hacks

Parenting hack: do stuff with your kids.

Actually, that's not really the hack. Here's the hack: you don't need to be crazy about it or anything - stuff you were already going to do in the first place works just fine. It'll take way longer and you'll need a glass of wine to cope with it the first couple dozen times, but eventually your efforts will pay off.

Oh, I guess that's my second hack for you today: wine. Lots of it.

I find cooking and baking are some things that are good to do. (You needed brownies, right?) My hope and expectation has always been that, eventually, the kids would gain some basic safety, common-sense and, heck, maybe even cooking skills. Maybe they could get themselves breakfast one day... pack a lunch without help... cook a meal for the family once in a while... not die of malnourishment in college. Y'know, the basics. I had a long game to meditate on when they were splashing pancake batter all over the damn place as toddlers.

Interestingly, I've noticed over the years that there are a ton of knock-on educational benefits associated with cooking that I had never even considered in my long game:

There's literacy: because "cookies" is an excellent motivator for sounding out that tricky word in the recipe, as is learning the deceptively big difference between cinnamon and cayenne.
Chemistry: proteins denature, carbon dioxide bubbles form, what the heck is Teflon anyway?
Math: fractions, measurements, conversions, ratios
Physics: phase changes, conduction, convection, surface tension, gelling
Biology: bacteria/safe food handling, nutrition, yeast, PMS

Yup, even PMS: the fact that we had chocolate-chip pancakes for supper once a month growing up was how my brother learned about the menstrual cycle. Kudos to him for noticing there was a pancake cycle; I filled him in on the back story. I'm certain he will make some lucky gal a fine husband one day - he learned early on to be very supportive of any female initiatives involving chocolate.

Final hack for the day: HERE is the easiest, kid-helper-friendliest, PMS-iest recipe I have on file.

Just think of how educated your child will be after helping you make these once a month for their entire childhood. You are an excellent parent. Go ahead, have some wine.

Monday, May 4, 2015

Aim High! ... Er, Not Quite That High

Small Fry emerged from the womb with a sort of natural athleticism that is completely foreign to me. If you show him something physical once, he immediately masters it and will forevermore be the world's best monkey bar swinger, two-wheeler rider, snow shoveler, whatever. (I'm not kidding - he has excellent shoveling form. He's like a textbook snow shoveler.)

I am not like that. Medium Fry is not like that, either - although it doesn't really seem as if it should be a heritable trait, this is clearly something she gets from me. We were both embarrassingly old when we finally learned how to ride a bicycle. We can't skip rocks, or catch frisbees, or ever really "get" team sports. If there are "fine motor skills people" and "gross motor skills people" in the world, I fully acknowledge that I am waaay over on this end of the spectrum doing some crocheting. 

Which brings me to Zumba. I mean, not in any logical way - in retrospect I'm very poorly suited to it. It's just that it kindof looked like it might be fun, and the promotional materials would have one believe that it's "for everybody and every body" so I decided to try it out at the community centre one night.

I didn't have crazy high hopes for myself or anything - I picked a spot in the class near some senior citizens just in case. And good thing, too, because I was even worse at it than I had expected. One of the senior ladies stopped me after class and gently said, "Have you tried crocheting, dearie?"

Haha, just kidding, that was only what she was thinking - but she did pat me on the shoulder and tell me it took her a few classes to catch on, too. Her friends nodded sympathetically. "Oh yes, us too, just keep trying!" Point being that the seniors were not only clearly out-Zumbaing me, but also that my performance was so pathetic that it engendered grandmotherly instincts in a gaggle of complete strangers.

But whatev. This many years in, I'm more or less accustomed to being really terrible at most things involving more than a modicum of coordination. I'll just keep attending class, and I'll improve with time. That's how these things go, right?

Week 2: Right??

Week 3: Isn't it how they go?

Week 4: Okay, seriously. Tell me this is going to get better one day.

Week 5: What?! Did they just change the songs again?!

Week 6: Wouldn't you know, right in the middle of La Zumbera: illumination. I have been conditioned, through a lifetime of inspirational messaging implicit in everything from office posters to family movies, to believe in the underdog - the overcoming - the breaking through. Perseverance, right? Motivation! The ragtag team gets their shit together and wins the championship! The fat kid finally catches the ball! The middle-aged lady's limbs miraculously begin working in graceful, rhythmic tandem for the first time ever!

I had been waiting for my Disney moment. Unconsciously, of course - my rational brain certainly knows better, it was just being circumvented by... well, by false advertising, really. Ah - so I can't be quite anything I want to be? I'm actually probably going to plateau somewhere right around "good enough", or maybe even "middling" or "half-assed" at some things? Several things?

Man, that takes the pressure off! Thank goodness. Now I can finally relax and enjoy my Zumba classes. 

Week 7+: Happily doing fukken terrible Zumba.

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

I Also Hate the Park

So I read this article the other day that purported to confess all the ways in which the author, a mom blogger, didn't "do it all" as a parent.

I am all about confessions. Confess away. Sometimes it's nice to get things off your chest. But I took issue with the article, because this woman's "confessions" were 100% Grade A horse puckey.

She confessed to not wearing makeup every day. Gasp!

To occasionally feeling too sick to play with her kids. Uh - gasp?

To not answering the dryer immediately when it buzzed, with such regularity that she had never folded a basket of warm towels.

Okay - I can't even fake surprise anymore. Or interest. These things have nothing to do with anything - not parenting, not "doing it all", not even just being a regular ol' human of any stripe. You fold warm towels? That's fine. You don't? That's fine, too. But to pretend it was ever somehow the goal is ludicrous - this was clearly a humblebrag in the skin of a confessional, and I just won't stand for it. Most parents are doing the best with what they've got, and they deserve better.

I would like to offer up some of my own parental musings to counter the false perfectionism that some folks seem to want to stuff down other people's throats:
  • Subsequent Child Ambivalence. Ohmygawd I can't believe I'm starting this all over again.
  • Incremental Returns of Freedom. Buckling their own seatbelts. Zipping their own jackets. Packing their own lunches. Tiny wins, but by golly they're like a gulp of fresh air when you've been immersed for so long in the daily grind of little humans. 
  • Outsourcing. Homemade has never felt as good as sane. 
  • Difficult Truths. Sometimes, your kids will be real a-holes. It's okay to notice this.
  • Adulthood Fatigue. When is it my turn to throw a tantrum?
  • Gentle Tyranny I. They stay up later than you, every night of the week. You will never have a moment alone again. 
  • Gentle Tyranny II. Or sex - you will never have that again either. Nothing kills the mood like knowing your teenager is quietly doing math homework in the kitchen, directly beneath your bedroom.
  • Reducing Entropy. I fantasize - actually, truly fantasize - about the day the kids move out and I can live in a clean house. That stays clean. In fact, some days I think DH can just go ahead and move out too - then NO ONE will walk on my clean floors ever, ever again, and I will be able to die happy.
  • The Sound of Silence. I misses it so.
And if this is not enough for you - if you are really having a tough go of things this day (or week, or year) - and all you want is to know that someone out there is doing just as lousy as you feel you're doing right now, or maybe even worse ('cause sometimes that makes one feel a little better)... there's always the Scary Mommy Confessional. Plus wine.

Go in peace.

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

The Laundry Cycle

The Laundry Cycle is the biopseudophysical cycle by which clothing is exchanged between the Humansphere, Hampersphere, Kenmoresphere and Closetsphere of the Earth. The natural processes that comprise a balanced cycle are depicted in Figure 1.

Figure 1: The Laundry Cycle

















Some amount of seasonal variation is known to occur in the Laundry Cycle, with direct Human-Kenmore  transmission ("Slopperation") increasing with precipitation events (particularly in toddler and school-age forms of laundry) (Small Fry 2008-2015); direct Kenmore-Human Transmogrification increasing in chilly months (DH et al. 2015); and Clotheslinerization increasing in pleasant weather (Mulhern-Davidson et al. 2009+).

The effects of disruption of the Laundry Cycle vary depending on the phase that is disrupted; the magnitude of the disruption; and the timing of the disruption. For example, family dinner at the local Indian restaurant is known to vastly increase the rate of laundry movement directly between the Humansphere and Kenmoresphere, due to Slopperation (DH et al. 2014). A delay in movement of laundry from the Hampersphere to the Kenmoresphere may increase the rate of emergency reutilization, particularly of environmentally limiting forms of laundry such as underwear (Medium Fry 2010, 2014). Conversely, uncharacteristically efficient movement of laundry through the Kenmoresphere into the Closetsphere has been demonstrated to result in the wearing of the same t-shirt to work on Wednesday as one wore to work on Monday, often resulting in mild embarrassment on the part of the Humansphere in question (Frecklepelt, this week).

On occasion, the Hampersphere and Kenmoresphere may temporarily be observed to be entirely free of laundry. This exceedingly rare occurrence is known as "The Laundry is Done"; however, the state appears to violate some law(s) of physics, as it is unfailingly fleeting (AME* dawn of time-present).

* All Moms Everywhere
  

Friday, March 20, 2015

Diet Journaling is for Chumps

Well, that was humiliating. Let's see what the payoff is...

And the verdict...

What the heck?! There's no way that's right. New search term...

Hm. Not in fitness database. Weird. Um...

Huh. Nope. Er...

Still no. Alright, how about...

No. Okay, fine, 732 it is. But I'm writing a note here that I question your methods, internet.