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

I Ain't No Hollaback Mom

Mi Sisee mi amore –

WHY are you trying to make me watch Real Housewives?! That’s your biggest request?! I don’t know if I can do it, but I might try once for you. Once. Truth be told, after reading your compelling letter I noticed that the latest episode of RH-NYC was repeating on Bravo. I had a few seconds of should I? / shouldn’t I? and finally decided to take the plunge. It lasted 5 minutes. The minute I saw Jill's sourpuss, manipulative, entitled face... dressed in some unrealistically-fancy-for-the-occasion, age-inappropriately-short dress… I couldn’t do it. I CANNOT support something that may be getting more money into her cheap, greedy pockets. I can’t. Literally. Sorry Sisee. And don’t get me started on the “countess” who was the other night being forced to (very, very awkwardly) explain to the crazy, low-voiced British Housewife from DC just why exactly she’s authorized to give people etiquette lessons. So uncomfortable. But Sis, fear not – I plan on picking up on the latest season of Real Housewives New Jersey. I kind of love Caroline Manzo. I actually watched the first 10 minutes when Theresa’s brother tells her to get lost (and calls her garbage?!?! OMG!) at HIS OWN BABY’s christening… which she was invited to… BY HIM. OMG, too, too much! I like how her reaction was (and always is) “Wait, what? What?! WHAT THE *^@%$#&!*#% DID YOU SAY TO ME YOU *#*&#%*?!?!?!?!” That woman does sudden explosive blind rage like no one else.

Sis, you know that Gwen Stefani song “Hollaback Girl” which is apparently about finding out that someone’s talking “trash” about you, and deciding to take care of business rather than just talking trash back? Well, I feel like I’m trying to resist being a Hollaback Mom… in regards to someone who has been disrespecting me as of late... in front of others… and who blatantly talks back to me at will… his name is Evan, my 3 year old son. I don’t know what crazy, bad-magic happens suddenly when kids turn three, but my little gentleman will sometimes turn into a temperamental, fit-throwing, back-talking bully. The other day I took him to the over-priced kids’ haircuts place. While we were waiting for his turn, he played at a train table in the waiting area. There were like six or seven other parents waiting with their kids. Evan has seasonal allergies and the kids Claritin hadn’t kicked in yet so he was coughing and sneezing occasionally. On one of the instances where he coughed, I gently reminded him “cover your cough, sweetie.” He promptly shot me eye-daggers and snapped “NO! I WON’T!” Can you say embarrassing? Not to mention, RUDE! Some of the other parents started giggling and I "lightheartedly" explained that he’s not sick and just has allergies… and that really he’s normally good… and actually very sweet…and WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?? And that’s not the first time. We were at a store recently where the cashier offered him a sticker. After he took it I said “say thank you, honey.” His reply: “NO! I don’t WANT TO!” What?!... OMG, WHY don’t you want to say thank you?? What are you, a Neanderthal? Just SAY THANK YOU for Pete’s sake. Man! Also, why are you hell-bent on disrespecting me in public?! He’s smart enough to know that with a cart full of stuff and another kid (trying to jump out of aforementioned cart at literally all times), I’m not gonna instantly discipline him like I would at home. I don’t know what to do! He’s normally so sweet, but these little incidents of defiance are slowly creeping in and with an 18 month old in tow, I’m more often than not incapable of nipping things in the bud. It’s like I need to meet him at the bleachers (no principals, no student teachers) and fight him! If this wasn’t my kid, I would’ve taken care of business after the first or second incident, but for some reason I can’t get my own son to quit using the manners of an English street urchin. Unbelievable. The other day I had made him put his toys away against his will, and when I asked him afterward what he’d like to do, he said “I want YOU to LEAVE.” Spiteful! Now that was just uncalled for. B-A-N-A-N-A-S.

Sis, on the topic of bad TV, are you aware Desperate Housewives is STILL on?! WHO is watching?? Reveal yourselves! Seriously, even Brett goes “Are we watching something we DVR’d in 2005, or is that show really still on?” Thank you, wise and witty husband. Ridic. Also, Grey’s Anatomy… why is that even a show? It’s so beyond terrible. I’m no class act when it comes to picking TV shows (see first paragraph) but even I have my limits. I think the hardest to believe aspect of that particular show is the premise that Meredith Grey is in her early 30’s and attractive doctors live in Seattle. Both of those assertions are just too absurd to buy.

So, as you know, my awesome hubby surprised me on my birthday with a trip to Las Vegas. Truly surprised – I had no idea, and he had booked the trip months ago. What good man! Anyway, it was actually my first time there and I thoroughly enjoyed the 90+ heat. It was awesome! Can I say, as an aside, how crazy much I appreciate having a husband whose idea of a good vacay is laying around doing nothing, with the occasional stroll and outings for food & drinks. No itineraries. No plans. No sightseeing. Just hanging out, with very little physical movement. Can you imagine if I had to pack my "rafting shoes" "just in case"... we better not even go there. (PS. I don't own rafting shoes.) Of course, we never went inside our hotel's requisite "party pool" (Liquid Lounge - cheeesy) but as we walked by, we did hear some of the tell-tale, dj-spun: unst! unst! unst! unst! Thankfully, we could see the entire pool area from our room and scoped out the perfect seats as far away from Yo MTV Pool Party, as possible. A final observation: Our hotel - The Aria - was pumping in what can only be described as a vanilla-orchid-like odor through the main public indoor areas, at all times. Since it's a brand new hotel, the smell of cigarettes (and REGRET... am I right? Ladies?) hasn't permeated all the physical things in the hotel, so walking through can be a pleasantly candle-store smelling. All in all, pretty nice (read: clean. new.) hotel.

I was here the other day. Sigh!

Sisee, have a great Memorial Day weekend with Deano and Sofsof. I miss you guys so much. I can't believe my little niceykins is going to be two soon! Give her a big kiss from Auntie.

xoxoxo
Ava

Who are these people?

Dearest Sissy McRoo,

Hope all is going well with you and my handsome and super-sweet nephews. I have no idea what kind of advice to give you regarding disciplining other people’s children. Seriously. It’s just tough, and I think one of those things every parent must address at some point. I’ve found it most difficult with children like 6 and up, where the parent lets the kid play on their own with no supervision, and doesn’t notice when their child is being mean to my baby. I can’t tell you how many times a 6+ old will try to close the door on Sofia, or not let her play in an area, or scream “no babies!” at her in a bullying kind of way. I always look at the parent and if they don’t say anything, I approach their child and tell them to stop and be nice in a stern way. I figure, if my child was being mean, especially to a baby, I hope a parent would come in and stop her. But really, I’m so protective over Sofia, that it’s hard to behave rationally when someone is purposely being mean to her. Plus, I understand that some parents just have children who are more headstrong, “determined,” or more aggressive than others. It makes for an awkward situation, but if they’re too exhausted to constantly reprimand their children, then they shouldn’t take offense when others step in. I have seen it the other way too, where a parent will not discipline their own child, but will another’s. At the park over the weekend, a young girl was holding up the line for the slide, while four 2 year and younger kids were waiting (not a lot of patience) and the girl, who was around 3 and (not scared), was being stubborn and wanted to “hang out” at the top of the slide. The kids were growing restless and it made for a dangerous situation because there wasn’t enough room for all of them to be up there -anyway the mom kept trying to “reason” with her child, and in a cutesy voice saying “come on, come down, you’re holding up the line sweetie, come on, sweetie, sweetie, now you have to come, etc” and finally another child, who was too young to realize what she was doing, came up to her to gently “push” the girl along. Now this is when the mom of the stubborn child, instead of actually picking her child up and removing her, decided to yell and discipline the other 2 year old for pushing -mind you, in a very loud, disciplinarian, aggressive voice, that she opted to not use on her own child -meanwhile still taking up time and making the other kids waiting even more restless... leading me to keep telling Sofia to “wait, hold on, wait honey, WAIT” to a 1 year old who thankfully listens. In that situation, if the mom disciplined Sofia I’d have lost it and in the moment I was too busy to keep the other kids from falling to just tell the mom to pick her child up! But in your situation, with the neighbor kids, it might be time for making some general, easy rules to follow, and constantly refer to them. I love how your home has become the neighborhood hang-out lot, and for your own sanity, I think you’ll need to incorporate some type of universal rules. All other suggestions will require a lot of energy from you, involving behavioral modification and reward systems, that I don’t think a mom with two toddlers can take on involving other people’s children. My only suggestion is to have rules, and if the rules are disobeyed, have the children go and get their mothers. Explain to the parent what their children are doing and have them do the disciplining -if nothing else, it’s forcing the other parents to be present and involved. Especially if you’re witnessing their children do dangerous things like play in the middle of the street or try to damage someone’s car -it is the responsibility of the parent and not you to fix the problem. Contacting the parent is super awkward, but I think a good solution to reducing your involvement in correcting their behavior. But then again, really, who knows? 

On another note: Can I just say that I’m having deep resentment stemming from your refusal to watch the Real Housewives of NY with me? I’ve been watching and am in desperate need to discuss the happenings, the blatant narcissism, and host of other -what we call in the “biz” -Cluster B personality traits, raging on without restraint. I seriously need group therapy after watching that show. Plus, now that Bethany is no longer on (we’re on first name basis), no one seems to acknowledge all the crazy, manipulative, insincere, contradictory behavior. I mean, COME ON, how does a person who releases a techno/dance song called “money can’t buy you class” (purposely spelled in lower-case -it does not deserve the dignity of proper punctuation) continue to sell themselves as respectable, or as we’ve witnessed, one who critiques age appropriate behavior? Or how does a wealthy upper-east side woman bring back chachky kuala bear trinkets and give them out as “thoughtful” souvenirs? She did this with a straight face, sissy...and in one instance actually CRIED for not being given the chance to gift it to her nemesis. I also love how whenever someone tries to confront another on something bad that they’ve done, the go to defensive reaction is to call it an “ambush” and being “attacked.” What is happening? Who are these people? -are the questions I’m hoping will drive you to tune in and watch the show immediately. So much going on, so little of it is worth any redeemable value, and yet I insist, I implore you watch it. 

The "real" housewives - a study in narcissism.

As for other things going on, I’ve been back now for a few weeks from beautiful Miami and am resenting the fact that there are people out in this world, who get to live in warm, sunny places, where the beach is actually swimmable. I’ve been trying to convince Dean to relocate to southern California for some time, but from what I’ve been told, the Pacific Ocean even in California is cold. Growing up in Oregon, I only remember the beach as a place one goes to look at something beautiful and perhaps have deep meditation or moments of inner-reflection. Also, it is a popular place one goes to test & record how quickly foot-cramps develop only mere seconds of submerging feet in water. Spring here in Philly has been beautiful, although it has rained a few times a week, which has been pretty upsetting. It is true that Oregon is extremely beautiful, but that’s when you are actually outdoors to see it. You do have the best 6 week summers though with dry heat. Count on that last week of July through the beginning of September to really get in that vitamin D for the whole year. 

Meanwhile, in non weather news, I received a “groupon” email the other day for botox, at 10 dollars a pop. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t entice me. At what point and at what age is it appropriate to start botoxing? I’ll tell you when: WHEN A NURSE TOLD ME I NEEDED IT. I’m not kidding you (assuming/hoping you were shocked at that statement). A nurse, who works for a dermatologist, told me my forehead (particularly one crease) definitely could use it -without my prompting or asking mind you. This might have been the most insulting thing I’ve ever heard, had I not been told in 2008 at an LAX Starbucks that “you look just like Blossom” -and No I was not wearing overalls with a big denim, sunflower adorned bucket hat. I was wearing a grey, pinstriped suit. But who remembers these things anyway? I have been mistaken for many people for some reason, and even in one occasion (probably the most baffling) at a wedding, by the mother of the bride, to be the BRIDE. As in, the mother of the bride, thought I was her daughter -the Bride, even though I was not dressed in white, but we both did have dark hair. On our trip to Miami, Sofia (who is with me 24/7, and has never been babysat -except for a few times in Oregon with her grandmas), mistook a medium brown haired woman (I had stepped away to get coffee) who had a major facial irregularity, to be “mama.” In fact, even when I came back, she still insisted the other woman was her mom, and as we left, she blew kisses and said “Bye-bye Mommy.” The mistaken woman was nice about the “mix up” but obviously a little weirded-out over the whole thing. Mind you, this whole incident had received the attention of ALL the people sitting outside the coffee shop and when I approached, everyone gave me the “absentee” dead-beat mom look, as if to say, “she’s away from her daughter so often that she is easily mistaken for a woman who looks nothing like her.” Dean even told me he let Sofia approach the woman, so she could see that it was not me, and not only did Sofie not realize it, she instead went up to her arm, gently patted it, and called her “mama.” Seriously, the woman looked more like Jennifer Gardner than me. What is happening? Who knows? But don’t worry, I did pick up some really thoughtful, cheap, dolphin and palm tree keychains for you and the boys. I plan on giving them to you in a very manipulative manner, one that evokes a sense of obligation or “you owing me.” 

You’re the best in the biz Sissy-roo. I can’t wait to see you and the beautiful family in less than 2 months.

xo xo,

Sara

Disciplining Other People's Kids = Annoying

Dear Sisee –

How was Miami? Did you enjoy the sun, the palm trees and all the inappropriately under-dressed people? I saw your pics and while your trip seemed nice – all that lounging in the sun, walking on the boardwalk, wearing cute 50’s inspired clothing –it left something to be desired, I felt. And that something is rain. I don’t want to push your jealousy button, but let’s just say in the NW we’ve had one of the coldest springs in history… holla! In March alone there were only two non-rainy days. I guess like every single deeply depressed Oregonian says about the rain when they’re trying to lie themselves into believing it’s ok to see blue sky only 10 days a year (minor exaggeration. Or is it?)… “THAT’S why it’s soooo beautiful here!” Is it beautiful? Ok, yeah, it’s not bad. But you know where else it’s beautiful? SAN DIEGO.

So, anywho… I find myself in a dilemma as of late and need your advice. As you know, we have about 25 or so kids in our little neighborhood, which is totally awesome. Now that Evan and Alec are getting old enough to “play”, I find myself even more thankful for the steady stream of kids hanging out in our yard on nice days, and graciously/lovingly entertaining two little boys. Most of them are little girls and it really is an amazing blessing having them around, especially considering we had no idea who lived even next door to us at our last house. They’re sweet, funny, and bring a happy spirit with them, and I love it! Love!  I’ve realized however, that with the gift of joyful children playing on the front lawn comes the added responsibility of ensuring some rules are followed. For instance no pushing/shoving, no picking flowers or plucking leaves (yeah, I’m gonna be that mean lady who likes my plants left alone – for now at least, since I just started my path to master-landscaper-hood), and the slide can be used only as a slide and in no other fashion. So on and so forth. Basically, common sense rules that most parents enforce at their homes, which most kids will follow with gentle-but-firm reminders. MOST kids. Sisee, this is where my dilemma enters the picture. There are one or two kids who have to be not-so-gently-and-very-firmly reminded of my rules CONSTANTLY. Constantly, Sis. It sometimes gets to the point where it’s easier for me to just play with / watch over Evan and Alec by myself - elsewhere. Yesterday, I saw one of the non-compliant kids, and I promptly put the boys in the double-stroller and headed to park before we were engaged and my afternoon suddenly into a steady stream of obvious no's. How is this a reality?  Am I crazy? I’m not asking them to put on navy-themed uniforms and speak only when spoken to through an old time millitary whistle (I’M Brigitta, SHE’s Louisa, and I think your skirt is the ugliest I’ve ever seen! Oh, SoM – you have my heart.) Anyway, inevitably, when these particular kids do come around, it takes 90% of my concentration to continuously ensure they’re not A) picking at my plants with gardening tools (yes, that’s “A” – it’s a big pet peeve. You know how much plants cost and how much effort it takes to maintain them?? I’m not mean about it, but don’t touch that lavender bush. Ever.) Where was I… oh, yeah… continuously ensuring they’re not B) pushing/trying to unsafely lift my kids, or other kids. C) Taking non-kid things out of the garage (just today: “I’m gonna take this broom to my house for a little while.” Um, no you’re not.) D) Making an unnecessarily large mess they won’t be / aren’t capable of cleaning themselves. E) Refusing to share MY kids’ stuff. F) Asking me to “go inside” and get them a snack (YEAH. I’M SERIOUS.) G) Trying to whack my friend’s car with a rake and refusing to stop (said friend promptly sent the offender home). Sis, as you can imagine, it can be EXHAUSTING! And my problem isn’t that I CAN’T discipline them, or be firm/cross when it’s called for – you know I have no problem confronting kids and adults alike, when required. My issue is that I don’t WANT to be the disciplinarian, but I have to be each time these kids are around. I’m already responsible for raising two little human beings who will be good people who respect others and the law, who have legit moral compasses, who can gauge appropriate conduct vs. inappropriate, who do unto others, etc. etc. Do I also have to teach other people’s kids to be good and listen? I don’t want to! I want them to just be good kids on their own and because their parents taught them. And for Heaven’s sake, I’m not getting you a snack. You live like right over there. Did you notice I’m in the middle of planting something? No, you can’t touch it. Ever. Anyway, am I mean ol’ Mrs. Grumps McCranksy laying down the law for these kids (or sending them home, which I have no problem with) or do I need to chill out? What should I do? It only happens on a truly frustrating level, maybe 20% of the time, so do I just accept that it is what it is? Like our favorite swiper likes to say: Oh maaaan!

Sisero, how is my niece? Why was she calling me “Sisee Piggie” on the phone the other day? What are you teaching her?! Suffice it to say, I’m deeply offended. Well, if it means anything, I sat next to Evan the other day to see what he was playing with / reading, and he looked me straight in the face and bluntly said “I want you to leave me alone.” Oh, ok. And I’d like for you to stop being RUDE! And then there is Alec who kept running into the street (in front of the house)  – when I stopped him for the 4^th or 5^th time, he growled like a lion and charged at me with a giant yellow sidewalk chalk. I can’t wait til they’re old enough to understand guilt and I can hold the whole “giving birth” thing over them in every remotely applicable scenario, til it quickly fizzles out and stops being effective. Truly though, they are two of the sweetest kids in the world. I sing to each of them at night, and it melts my heart watching them all sleepy and listening to “This Little Light”, “Dream a Little Dream” (Alec) and “Silent Night” (Evan – he doesn’t care if it’s not Christmas. Sometimes I try to suggest something else, and he huffs “SILENT. NIGHT.”) We’re so blessed to have these beautiful, healthy children Sis.

I can’t wait to see you Sisee. Enjoy Philly in the 75 degree Spring and remember that even though it’s cold and rainy here… we have…  ugh, NOTHING. So what, who cares. The rain sucks. I’m bitter.

Love you.

Ava

My Son Ate Broccoli - Jealous?

Sara is on vacation this week, so we are featuring our first ever guest blogger - enjoy!

Dear Sisters,
Since I pretty much pretend to be your oldest sister, it was kind of you to ask me to be your first guest blogger. If you hadn’t, it probably would have hurt my feelings, and then we would have had to attend family therapy. And we all know how crazy shrinks are, don’t we Sara?
So... it’s no secret that I’m just a little bit addicted to dapper boys clothing. Not for myself, of course, but for my five year old, Andrew. Although I thoroughly enjoy over-dressing him in impractical frocks for most occasions…even I have limits. While dropping off Andrew at preschool last week, I noticed a sweet young lad wearing a white polo shirt. Upon closer inspection, I noticed it was indeed a genuine Ralph Lauren Polo Shirt. Did I mention it was WHITE? Is his mom out of her mind? I shook my head in disbelief as the white polo shirt sat down at the craft table with the PAINTS and MARKERS. I don’t think I need to finish this sad story. Let’s assume the best, and just believe that his father dressed him for school that
morning. It would have been easier to remove that shirt from the hanger and throw it directly in the garbage can… isn’t that right, Ava? Of course, my dad would have kept the permanently-soiled high-quality cotton polo shirt to wax his little red sports car. Then we would have been reminded of that poor decision for years to come.

$39.50 Ralph Lauren Polo + preschool =
Bad Idea

Since we’re talking boys clothes (and who doesn’t want to?), how many neckties in a boy’s collection are too many? Maybe I’d get a more accurate answer if I asked Prince William, Duke of Cambridge. At last count, Andrew had eighteen in total…four of the bow variety. In his
defense, I mean my defense…you don’t really outgrow neckties. I did purge one tie, which will be finding its way to Evan’s neck. Now I feel better.
Ok, so I hear some mothers don't have a problem with their child wanting to wear the same outfit everyday. Have you heard of this nonsense? I hope neither of my sisters (that’s you guys) are participating in this ridiculous behavior. My daughter does not get to wear her Cinderella princess gown to the Walmart everyday. Oh yeah, I don’t have a daughter, and I don’t shop at Walmart… but you get the point. Rules are made to be followed. Number 1 Rule is: Mom is the boss of the closet.
As we have discussed, children already control all culinary decisions. It doesn’t matter if we dip their carrots in hot fudge, they will refuse any food they wish. I have a perfect example:
Andrew will not eat broccoli. And really, what child eats broccoli? (No, Sofie does not eat broccoli.) So we’re on Andrew’s school fieldtrip to the Whole Foods Market. The class visits each department, and a different child gets to pick a food from that department for the WHOLE class to sample. When the nice Whole Foods lady asks the kids what they want to sample in produce, some bossy mom immediately pipes up and says “broccoli.” (Wow, I bet she’s a lot of fun at a party.) So the WFM lady whips out a wood cutting board and chops up a big broccoli into bite-size morsels. She places the dry broccoli (without dip) in front of the children…and with big eyes, they all stare. My son, YES, MY son, reaches over, picks up a big floret… and pops it in his mouth and EATS IT. In unison, all the other moms look at me, and I just smile like, yeah…he eats ALL his vegetables and he makes his bed. It was a very proud moment, even though it reeked of dishonesty. He had not eaten raw broccoli before that day, or since. I’m sure I will never understand motherhood.
One more thing before I go. My sister, the cougar, will appreciate this. I’m shopping with one of my best friends about five years ago and she sees a watch with a leopard-print watchband. She holds it up and loudly says across the jewelry department, “This reminds me of you.” I said, “What?!” in horror. She said, “Yes, every time my daughter and I see something in animal print, we think of you.” I was so horrified, I didn’t even ask why. I immediately went home and looked through my closet to see if a 50+ lady from New Jersey that sings love ballads from the 80’s lived there. I smelled the clothes to make sure they did not reek of smoke or cheap perfume, and checked the pockets for BINGO stubs. My mind was racing as I tried to think back…Have I ever purchased Rio Red press-on nails? Thankfully, I could only find one leopard print t-shirt that my mother gave me. Whew. I’ve been very careful since that day when tempted in the animal print department. Even when the magazines say it’s the “latest thing”… I slowly step away. You girls hear me? Step away from the animal print.
Sara, I hope you’re having fun with Chilli in Miami. Are you guys sharing shoes like BFF’s and hanging out with the Basketball wives? Don’t forget sunscreen, or you may come home looking like Snooki.
Well, I have gone on too long. Hope this finds you both well,
Your oldest sister,
Rhonda

Rhonda lives in Portland with her husband Gene and son Andrew. She is mother to the single most dapper boy on the West Coast, and is generally regarded as one of the nicest women around. We both value her friendship, dearly, and are always excited to hear her take on parenting! - Ava & Sara