Suffering indignities for cheaper prices.

My dearest Sissy,

I think the whole dessert rule is your pièce de résistance when it comes to good ideas. How freeing it must’ve been to leisurely enjoy your dessert, with peace of mind and the choice to perhaps, save some for another time. Truly brilliant. I believe some of the greatest scientific minds of years past only dreamt of such a discovery. I have to say that it made me want to apply this approach to full meals as well, but realized quickly it was a slippery slope that will only lead to those weird marriages where everyone splits everything evenly and are so inflexible that they eventually lead to ...well, I don’t know, drug abuse? For sure, something not healthy, which involves parallel lives. So let’s just keep it locked in for dessert, and only dessert. 

I hope you are enjoying your full portions now that you are vacationing in beautiful San Diego. I couldn’t be happier for you, and I’m sure the boys are enjoying all that special attention from wonderful family. 

Meanwhile, I am here in Philadelphia, preparing, slowly, for July in Portland. It’s actually hard to pack light, because I’m worried I can’t just bring summer clothes due to that whole phenomenon last year, where the weather was cold and overcast everyday until 1 pm or so, and then cooled down again around 6pm. Seriously, why do I have to pack a coat and sweater? It’s SUMMER. Ah, who knows? But seriously, outside of the terrible, gloomy non-seasons of Portland, you will be pleased to know that even though there is no discernible reason to be pleasant and personable, Oregonians are generally very friendly, and so...be happy that at least your normal personal interactions don’t leave you angry at every store you visit on your chore list. 

What I’m trying to say is, you guys have a little thing called “customer service,” whereas here we have a lot of...well...attitude, coupled with laziness. A lethal combination. A specific type of attitude that I like to call, “you should be happy I showed up to this job today, and I have no intention of helping you.” God help you if you actually need to locate an item -cause it’s not gonna happen. Ever. Not to mention, it is perfectly normal to see clerks eating beef jerky or cheetos, or on their cell phones while they are checking your items at the register. Totally normal. So basically there is this Target like less than a 10 minute drive away from us, and by going there, I easily replace common curtesy for convenience, or as my friend, A, said yesterday, “the Target that makes you aware of all your poor decision making and bad life choices that led you to have to shop there (a fast spiral of self reproach).” Let’s just say, one of my visits there included waiting in a super long line, only for an inebriated, erratic mom &  tween daughter to walk up to the front and go ahead of the 7 people waiting. Even though at times I welcome confrontations where it is socially acceptable to teach other’s manners in a public forum, I opted to keep my mouth shut, because of well, I wish I could say some kind of principle, but really because I was scared. Scared and felt sorry for the poor daughter who was being pushed around by the crazy mom. For the record there was a young, muscular man behind me who didn’t say anything as well, and when they left, he was like “WHAAAAAT?” We bonded over what we had witnessed and now talk almost daily on skype. Hahaaa, I’m kidding -I never saw him again, but we did for that moment share some observations over what we had seen. So last week I decided I had enough and would find the next closest Target, which was in the heart of the burbs. Not only was this new store not crowded, but there were plenty of workers actually working and not having private, loud conversations between themselves -plus, the shelves were stocked, nicely! I thought I had slipped past some type of portal to an alternate universe, but turned out to be the result of taking two freeways away from the inner city. Amazing! I was in heaven. 

So over the weekend, we were at the mall, which is far into the suburbs called “King of Prussia,” -it’s a huge, huge mall with tons of stores and is very clean and nice. No problems with customer service out there, people are sufficiently friendly and professional. Whilst there, I commenced my search for the perfect mommy espadrille, or wedge, which involves maybe a 1-2” heel, and most importantly, will not hinder one’s ability to quickly run after a toddler before they jump on an escalator. Needless to say, it has been a taxing, difficult search. At Nordstrom I noticed some cute casual ones, sitting with the Sperry “deck shoes” -you know the ones, that all the kids wear? They’re hip -and fit perfectly in my grand scheme to be down with the cool kids and eventually become Amy Poehler’s ridiculous character in Mean Girls. Let me refresh your memory and remind you of some of her quotes I can’t wait to say to Sofia’s teenage friends:

“I just want you to know, if you ever need anything, don't be shy, OK? There are NO rules in the house. I'm not like a regular mom, I'm a cool mom.”

“Soooo....what is up? Whats the 411? What has everybody been up to? What's the hot gossip? Tell me everything. What have you guys been listening to? What are the cool jams?”

Cute wedge that may or may not break one's ankle

Okay back to finding the comfortable and “maybe young kids will think I’m a cool mom” wedge: I decide to shop around and look at some of the other stores who also carry Sperry and realized that Lord and Taylor (a glorified Macy’s) was having a huge sale, where the exact shoe was 55% cheaper! Very exciting, right? Unfortunately, they were completely sold out and only had one left, in like a size 11. I asked if they had any at another location, and sure enough, they had a few left at their store -GET THIS- only ONE BLOCK away from the infamous Target I had vowed to never go back to. I decide to call the store and put it on hold, so I can come by and pick it up later. Now this is what one has to deal with in Philadelphia: even though I had put it on hold and told them I would be there to pick it up right before the store closed, I arrived at 6:55pm, and when I asked the woman in the shoe department if I could pick up the shoes, the sales clerk explained to me (with a lot of attitude) that they were CLOSED. I was like, “well the doors were open, and I have the shoes on hold” and she replied, “Doesn’t matter, you’ll have to come back another time, register CLOSED. REGISTER CLOSED ALREADY!” I was so upset and couldn’t believe that absolutely no attempt was made to locate, say, an OPEN REGISTER,(or bring the shoes out to me) anywhere in the store! I was so upset and upon entering the car and looking at a puzzled Dean, I exclaimed, “Only in PHILLY! ONLY IN PHILLY DO I HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS CRAZINESS!” Btw, while walking out of the store, I noticed it was like 6:59pm. The store wasn’t even technically closed yet. Dean was upset too and stated the obvious, “If I was there, there’d be no way they could’ve pulled that.” It’s true. Dean gets answers, and raises his voice when people act up, while I’m the sucker who just stands there astonished by the gall. God bless her, she just didn’t want to work!


The next morning, I was at a mommy playdate, with a group I had recently joined (yes, I did venture out and try a new one, which I have not mentioned because, well, it has been nice, good, great, and the women have all been super friendly and welcoming), and posed the question to some Philly natives and transplants, and wanted to know if I should just swallow my pride and go and pick up the shoes that day. The women, all who were used to suffering the indignities of shopping in Philly, all agreed that temporarily forfeiting one’s principles is worth the steep discount. I took their sound advice and left the playground, headed to the store of mistreatment. While there, you would be pleased to know that the sales associate not only was super helpful, bringing me the shoes in 3 different sizes to compare fit, but also very friendly with Sofia -who immediately removed her own shoes to try on as many as she could get her hands on before I could snatch them away. So here I am, thinking to myself, “Sara, you ought never generalize. There is such a thing as courteous and professional sales associates. You mustn't expect the worst and now you can leave the store with a positive experience.” No sooner do I thank her for her kindness and assistance, and attempt to reinforce considerate behavior, do we have the following exchange:

Me: Thank you again so much! You were so helpful, and I really appreciate all that you did. Really. Sofia, say “Thank you.” (thank you)

L&T sales clerk: You’re welcome. Sofia? That’s a beautiful name.

Me: Oh, thank you!

L&T sales clerk: Yes, Sofia’s the name of Jesus’ granddaughter.

Me: (not thinking, automated response) Oh really? That’s nice.

Me: (now actually thinking) Wait? What? Jesus’ GRANDDAUGHTER?

L&T sales clerk: Yes, you know. He had a children with Mary Magdalene, and his granddaughter is Sofia.

Me: um, I don’t think so...(cut off)

L&T: Well, it’s a long story, I’d be happy to tell you about another time, but YES, HE HAD CHILDREN, HE WAS MARRIED.

Me: (thinking to myself, “I CAN’T. I CAN’T RIGHT NOW, I HAVE THINGS TO DO. Pick your battles.”) oh. urgh. well, bye!

Sissy! She tried to squeeze in a very controversial and well, kind of INSULTING ( & perhaps blasphemous) belief, into NORMAL CONVERSATION. I seriously was laughing on my way out, thinking, I cannot shop in this city unscathed. Something super inappropriate and awkward has to happen, no matter what! Needless to say, I’m definitely looking forward to countless uneventful interactions while in Portland and am so happy to be near you again. I can not wait! 

Hope you’re enjoying your vacation. I am counting down the days until we’re singing “reunited and it feels so gooood” in our normal, 70’s variety show manner. Kiss the kiddos for me.

xo xo,

Sara

Husbands don't like to share dessert. End of Story.

Dear Sisee –

I can’t believe you put yourself out there! Frankly, with your generally pessimistic, glass-half-empty attitude, I never thought you’d take my advice. Which is why I’m always dispensing it so freely, even though you’re the psychologist. I just figure if I throw enough Velcro-covered balls at the yellow felt wall thing, one or two are bound to eventually stick. So, good for you for taking my advice! Yeah! Huah! (Yes, “huah” from that one Al Pacino movie where he’s blind and says a lot of very seriously uncomfortable and inappropriate things about the female anatomy, yet still manages to come off as “endearing” because of the whole blindness thing. Oh, and Chris O’Donnel! What happened to that guy? He was so cute. Oh no, he’s on a CSI spinoff now, isn’t he? Don’t tell me. Sigh, why?! He could’ve done so much better. Well… could he have? I don’t know. Maybe I should stop judging him – the man probably has a wife and kids and a mortgage from 2005 when he probably bought something in the “Pacific Pallisades” for way more than it’s now worth. Fine, Chris O’Donnel, do CSI. My apologies. )

Not related to letter, but Chris O'Donnel has mouths to feed. Stop judging him for CSI: LA

Seriously though – you are not at all a pessimist, and I applaud you for trying to branch out. Also, as you so wisely wrote in the comments section of your blog -  the likeliest scenario is that cool Philly moms already have groups of close friends and aren’t seeking out more via meetup sites. So you are left with the controlling, insecure, cult-creators, hoping to capitalize on newbies’ desperation to grow their group. I love that at one point during your awkward date, you laughed out loud! Sis, I’m kinda surprised you didn’t start somethin’, Michael Jackson-style (got to be startin somethin’, yeah yeah).  I’m totally sister-mad that someone thought it was ok to put you in that situation. What did she think was gonna happen?... you’d suddenly realize the error of your ways, apologize and immediately fork over the $5 membership fee? Rude! Aw, but knowing the special love you have in your heart for uncomfortable situations, I’m also kinda happy for you. If there’s one thing we’ve learned from this (yes, “we” – clearly the sister empathy makes me just as much a victim, if, frankly, not more so) it’s that we should be open to new friendships even if we already have a super awesome mommy circle. So, really, the lesson is for me, not you. Sorry. I am (truly) thinking about visiting meetup.com (OMG, I almost wrote “trolling”… WHY?!) to see if there are any great moms in Portland in your situation, who I could connect with other good mommy friends. See, your trials aren’t for naught. I’m so glad you’ll be visiting soon and I can give you lots of love. Love you so much, Sisee.

Sis, if you recall, back in me ol’ college days, I had befriended a hilarious old couple – Lily and Irwin from NYC –  with whom I would have coffee and chit chat on somewhat of a regular basis. They were childless, stylish and would freely dispense all manner of advice and share all sorts of so-crazy-it-must-be-true stories with me over coffee. I really have to write about them more in depth another time (they partied with Danny Kaye!), but one of the things about them that I always found intriguing was the way they shared dessert. We would often meet at coffee shops and cafes, and they would always get one dessert to split between the two of them. BUT, they wouldn’t just split said dessert the usual one plate / two forks method – they would instead also get a second plate, cut the untouched dessert in half and place one piece on the other plate, thereby having two separate half desserts instead of one shared dessert. Make sense? Ok, I always thought this was odd, but not enough so to ever ask why. It just seemed weird that two people in love (especially for so long) would want to remove the romantic part of sharing a dessert – the sharing part. Well, fast forward to modern-day, married Ava, and it all suddenly comes in CLEAR as day. Sis, I’ve realized something: HUSBANDS DON’T LIKE SHARING DESSERT. They like dessert and they certainly like you, but it’s not in their chromosomal make-up to split dessert with anyone, even wifey aziz. Now they pretend, mind you, that they are “sharing” with you, (and because they love you, they may even believe they are “sharing”… am I right? Doctor Sara?) but if you pay close attention you suddenly notice some alarming behaviors: A) They take bites that are 2-3 times the size of a woman’s. While you’re gingerly gathering the perfect morsel of chocolate tort with the edge of your fork, he’s stabbing at that thing like he’s digging for beef inside a bowl of stew. B) They consume at DOUBLE the consumption rate. Bada bing, bada boom, finito.  They’re fast eaters and savoring dessert isn’t gonna fit into the mathematical equation. So basically they are eating twice as much, twice as fast, which mathematically means you (the wife) get only about 25% of the dessert (or I should say what I assume is “mathematically” were I to try to make a nerdy mathematical equation out of something this ridiculous) (actually, I’m not clever enough to legitimately develop a mathematical answer – if someone else did it, I’d be impressed and SUPER interested in the results)… Ok, where was I… oh yeah, because you are eating from ONE plate, it SEEMS you are 50/50 sharing. Brilliant, right?! (Well, for husbands, not wifeys.)

She: Wow, that's one awesome head of hair.
He: I'm gonna eat all of the dessert.

Now, mind you, I’ve been married 7.5 years but only figured this out in the last year or so. One night Brett and I were “sharing” something after dinner – imagine a cheesecake or similar – and I realized that even though I was not particularly hungry, I was eating really superfast. And I also realized that I wasn’t enjoying said cheesecake because I was consuming it with little to no “savor” factor- I was just rapid-pace eat-sprinting through dessert. Soooo not fun and totally against my nature. (I like to take my time. Bite here. Sip of beverage there. Another bite or two, with all the proper proportions of dessert components. So on and so forth.) So WHY was I marathon racing through dessert?! Well, in order to (subconsciously) ensure I got my fair share! So after a few such episodes, I thought to myself ok, this is ridiculous! and started… are you ready for it… asking for my share of dessert on a SEPARATE PLATE! TADA! And I have to tell you… even though Brett loves me (and I’m positive he does)… he didn’t seem too happy about it. He was kind of reluctant at first like  Why do we need to get another plate dirty? We’re SHARING. but eventually, we developed a system of pre-splitting the dessert (or TRUE SHARING as I like to call it. In my head.) We’ve never talked about it or anything, but now we have entered an interesting (and frankly AWESOME) new phase of dessert sharing where we get two SEPARATE desserts and give each other a few bites upon request. I feel so liberated! I’m not rushing through my sugary confection and can take my time enjoying every bite – and even saving any that I may feel would be more appreciated the next day. Amazing! Everyone is happy! So rise up wives and claim what is rightly yours! – the whole 50% of the dessert which you were promised and nothing less!

Sis, I feel I should conclude my letter with an update on potty training. When last I wrote, things were a hot (wet, gross) mess. Well, we have made much progress! It has been at least 3 weeks since Evan has worn any sort of diaper – pull-up included. He is no longer deathly afraid of the #2. We got rid of Totally Ineffective Potty Chart and with the dangling promise of suckers, cupcakes and ice-cream sandwiches (sometimes for breakfast… honestly, if he was smart enough, he could totally leverage the poop-in-the-potty thing to get sweets for whole days on end - I’d totally do it), he does his business and moves forward. We still have accidents on occasion – which are surprisingly still totally disgusting and nothing less… pee and poop are always gross, who knew?! – but all in all, it has been a successful and money saving endeavor. I’m surprised someone from Costco corporate hasn’t called to ask why our monthly spending has reduced by $50-100. Maybe they don’t have a person who handles that. Or maybe we are just spending that same money on ice cream sandwiches and red velvet cake (it’s $10 for that whole gigantic thing! TEN DOLLARS! Sold. Next.)

Sis, I’m heading to San Diego to make good on all my weather trash talk from earlier posts. Also, I’m going to get some sun. It’s the middle of June, and it was at one point this afternoon 55 and rainy. Don’t get me started. DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED. Love you so much and am thrilled that I’ll be seeing you 3 days after I return from SoCal. Many kisses for that beautifull niece of mine.

Xoxoxo

Ava

Don't ever "put yourself out there" unless you have to

My Dearest Sissy-roo,

Why is Evan doing this? I heard things get harder in year 3...but I feel like maybe he’s trying to “teach” you a valuable lesson on socio-cultural boundaries and autonomy. Okay, I’m kidding, he’s just being a brat. The cutesiest, adorable brat in the world, mind you. Can’t wait to kiss and squeeze that lil’guy. I’d offer you my usual standby threat I use on my friends and acquaintances: “You know I can put you in a 24 hour psychiatric hold right? I’ll just say you’re a suicidal addict and you’ll have to spend the night in a locked unit.” But alas, I don’t think little Evan would understand that and of course, if he did, he’d probably never forgive me for introducing that imagery. In fact, it’ll probably be one of those memories he’d somehow hold on to, and bring up awkwardly and casually when he’s like 19, hanging out with the family in my kitchen. It would go something like this:

E:“Hey Auntie, did you threaten to put me in a locked psychiatric unit when I was really young?”

S:“How can you expect me to remember those things?”

E:“Um, I still have nightmares from that...so, um...don’t you think I was kinda young?”

S:“Are you questioning me? In front of OTHERS? This is the kind of disrespect your mother warned me about 16 years ago!”

This conversation would inevitably force me to resort to insincere crying, pressuring Evan to console me...and be such a waste of his time, as to never bring it up again. the end.

In all seriousness, I think it’s just a little kid thing. All kids do it -including my precious Sofia. Sofia’s in a very interesting phase, where she now understands what being “nice” is, and is constantly reprimanding cartoons for not being nice. I think it all started over Caillou being mean to his younger sister Rosie, and Dean and I both saying that Caillou needs to be nicer to his sister. So now, as Sofia watches her favorite cartoon, I’ll catch her yelling at the top of her lungs, in a really mean voice, “Caillou BE NICE! BE NICE NOOOOOW!” It’s such an aggressive reprimand, that I have to come to his aid, and say, “he is nice, he’s being nice now, geeeez!” She’s also become super “helpful” especially with babies. Her thing is to bring out all her toys and give them to whatever child is around, only to become super jealous and immediately take the toy away. She offers a toy, only to take it back! Super embarrassing. Oh, and now trying to redirect her involves her yelling “STOP IT!” at the top of her lungs. How did the sweetest kid in the world start having 2 second melt-downs? 

Sofia’s also getting her two bottom molars in these last couple days which left us sleepless the last few nights. She was crying at 2:30am, and by that time was wide awake. We both tried, at 4 different times to hush her back to sleep, but with no avail. We brought her into our bed at like 3:30am, thinking she might, well you know, snuggle cutely and sleep. Of course, not only was she wanting to play, my eye-balls were sore from her pushing them in and saying “eyes. eyes. eyes. eyes. eyes.” She also restated 1000x a pretty traumatic event from earlier in the day, when she let go of her balloon and it flew up in the sky. Imagine at around 4:30am hearing, “booon, sky, bye-bye, Pia (Sofia) let go, booon, in sky, birds, airpane, byebye, blooon, booon, bye-bye, NOT NICE! NOT NICE! boon went bye-bye.”

Omg, I was so tired, and all I could dream about was that stupid balloon flying in the sky, flying free. I was so jealous of that balloon. The next day I was a complete zombie. Thankfully last night she slept soundly. Why can’t I be one of those people who sleep less than 5 hours a night and wake up refreshed? Dean and I both after being sleepless were questioning whether we wanted another child. We have become accustomed to sleep, not to mention, Sofia slept through the night since she was 6 weeks old...we are not built to wake up every 3 hours. So, I guess we’ll just hold off a little longer on introducing another baby. 

So as you know, it’s been quite the challenge for me to make Mommy-friends here in Philly. It seems like generally, most of the women I get along with, are ones who return to work. So I went on meetup.com to look for some mommy play-date groups to join and a few months ago joined one...only to un-join after 9 days. I don’t know if I’m too judgmental, but seriously, after joining I received 10 emails in the first 5 days, all of which were very sternly explaining their “rules and regulations” and very aggressively asking for a 5 dollar yearly fee. Within 3 days, the emails became even more aggressive, with updates to the “rules” and then, saying that if I didn’t attend a meeting within the first few days, I’d be ejected from the group. It just so happened that Sofia’s nap time was at the exact time all their group meetings were, so I contacted one of the group leaders and explained, and she seemed easy-going enough and understood why I couldn’t participate. The NEXT day, I get an angry email from the other group facilitator, telling me that I should just pay my fee online with a credit card, before I get kicked out! hahaa, omg, I have no idea what crazy cult-group I had stumbled upon, but seriously, it was craaaazy! So, I naturally discontinued my membership and explained to them that I was no longer interested and needed to be part of a more “flexible” mom’s group. So a few weeks ago, against my better judgement, and as a misguided attempt to “put myself out there” -pretty sure advice I got from you Sissy- I decided to contact the “nice” group facilitator who had originally suggested we meet up at a park outside of the group’s involvement. I sent her a friendly email to see if she wanted a play-date. Her response was very puzzling. It was like, “you can definitely re-join the group and I’d love to see you with the group. group. group. etc. GROUP.” Basically, more cult-mom’s agenda. I replied, assuming she’d never respond, saying, “I’m not really interested in the group, but thanks anyway and if you ever want to just have a play-date I’d be happy to meet up with you sometime.” She doesn’t respond for a few days (after she had responded within hours of the first email) and finally suggested we meet at a nearby park the following week. Okay, so this is the craziest part: She showed up, CLEARLY UPSET WITH ME! not to mention, with a major chip on her shoulder. I tried to be nice at first, but then just stopped all attempts at making conversation. I seriously started laughing out loud to myself at one point, because she was so cold and rude and very stand-off-ish, that it was obvious she was trying to teach me some kind of LESSON for snubbing her cult. UNBELIEVABLE. If you didn’t want to meet with me, WHY DID YOU? Seriously? I was so confused, but also a bit amused by the absurdity of the whole interaction. No one forced this play-date! Anyway, so it was unbelievably awkward, and completely ridiculous...but I guess it taught me?...something? Did it? Who knows. 

Anyway, I’ll keep you updated on more futile attempts to “put myself out there” and use “nothing risked, nothing gained” type affirmations daily to attract other friendly, flexible mommies...ugh, but until then, I will continue to rely so heavily on you, that it will force you to relocate close to me.

Alright my love. Please kiss those boys and let them know that Auntie can’t wait to see them in the next few weeks. Yay! 

Love you tons,

Sara