Preschool Mean Girls...Who Knew?

The girls at my daughter's school can be brutal. They are so competitive; all they talk about is who is "best friends" with whom on a given day. They don't mean to be hurtful but they are. The scary part is they're only three.

"How was school today?" I ask. "Who'd you play with?"

"Abigail," she answers. "But Mommy, Abigail was best friends with Elizabeth today."

What does that even mean? Does it mean my poor baby was left out of that day's best-friend clique? Does it mean she was playing with Abigail only to be informed by Elizabeth that she was Abigail's best friend that day, not my daughter?

I don't know, exactly, because it's really difficult to get the straight dope from a three year old.

My daughter isn't just a victim, however, as I found out while dropping her off at school one day. We had just walked in the door when Abigail ran over. "Yay, you're here! You're my best friend," she announced.

Without missing a beat, my daughter coldly replied, "You're NOT my best friend. Elizabeth is my best friend."

My jaw hit the floor. Whaaaaat? I had never heard this kind of talk coming from my daughter's mouth before. Luckily, Abigail's dad had already left, so I only had to feel mortified in front of the teacher.

I'm sure this kind of behavior is normal in the preschool set these days (at least with girls--my son has never ever talked like this). But according to my daughter's teacher, this particular group of girls is one of the most competitive and best-friend-obsessed she's ever experienced.

Apparently, there are a couple of aggressive Alpha girls in the class (my daughter isn't one of them) who stir things up and stoke the fires. The ring leader is a precocious cutie who always wants to be the "best girl" at everything (and who also happens to have an older sister--which surely isn't a coincidence).

The teacher told me that, when things get too hairy, my daughter is good about removing herself from the fray and going off to read a book by herself--which I was really happy to hear. "But she's listening! She doesn't miss a word of what's going on," the teacher added. Oh, no doubt.

Sure, it's important that my daughter learn to deal with all sorts of social interactions--not just warm & fuzzy ones--but it still worries me. She is a strong, opinionated little girl, but when it comes to her peers, she seems more of a follower. My son has never been fresh or bratty just because his friends were acting that way, but my daughter is a mimic who will do anything to get a laugh.

Hopefully none of this bad behavior will sink into that little brain of hers and take hold. Hopefully next year's class will have a different dynamic (though I'm not holding my breath since many of the same kids will be in her class). Or maybe the kids will do some growing up over the summer, leave this pettiness behind, and begin the new school year with nothing but love and acceptance for all.

Yeah...maybe.

Judging a Book by It's Outdated, Groovy Cover

I finally finished reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire to my six-year-old son. At 734 pages, this one was a bear. By the time we got to the end, it was difficult to remember how the book had begun. Since the fifth (and next) volume in the Harry Potter series, The Order of the Phoenix, is the longest (a whopping 870 pages) not to mention a lot more complicated (too much about the Ministry of Magic and other wizard governmental goings-on that my Kindergartener won't understand), we decided to take well-deserved Harry Potter break.

But what to read next? Granny and Papa solved that problem by giving my son a copy of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe over Christmas. But since it's only 179 pages, my son and I got through the whole thing over the long MLK Jr. weekend.

So now we are on to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory--my husband's suggestion (it was one of his favorite books as a kid)--which is all the more appealing to me because I've never read it. It's a fun read so far, but its scant 161 pages means I'll be looking for the next book on Monday.

The psychedelic cover of the copy
I got from the library

I checked this one out of the library...and man-oh-man, did I get an OLD copy! The cover font is right out of "Laugh-In." Every time I look at the book, "The Age of Aquarius" begins playing in my head and I swear I can smell pachouli. (The book was published in 1964 so it's possible this is the original cover.)

And, written on the inside cover in a lovely, no-one-writes-like-that-anymore script is the following inscription:

                        To Gil

                  With love from

                     Aunt June

                  Christmas 1972

At first I thought this was cool: Gil is probably around 50 now and Aunt June is either a senior citizen or maybe even dead. But the more I thought about it, the more it depressed me. 

Who is this Gil person? And why did he not keep and cherish this copy of one of the most popular and beloved children's books, given to him by his doting Aunt June, no less? Sure, it's great that Gil donated the book to the library, but didn't he plan on ever having kids of his own? 

Did Gil ever even read the book? Would Aunt June have been offended if she knew her darling nephew gave away her well-thought-out Christmas gift? Or maybe Gil grew up, moved out of the house, and his parents gave the book away?

I will never know the answers to these questions. But one thing I know for sure is there's no way I'm ever giving away the books my kids' grandparents have lovingly inscribed to them. Those will remain on our bookshelves until my kids have children of their own, at which time my darling grandchildren will inherit them. 

Because there is nothing better than reading to your own kids the books that were read to you as a child. It's a magical thing.

I Really Hope I Won't Have to Use the Imperius Curse Next Weekend

I just spent over two hours making this Platform 9-3/4 Hogwarts Express sign for my son's sixth birthday party, which is a week away. 

Over the next seven days, I'll be busy conjuring up Chocolate Frogs, Sugar Mice, Peppermint Humbugs, Butterscotch Broomsticks, Acid Pops, and cauldron cakes (cupcakes) decorated to look like Harry Potter, Hedwig the owl, and Harry's lightning-bolt scar. I will be hunched over creating signs pointing guests toward Potions Class, The Three Broomsticks Pub, and Honeyduke's Sweet Shoppe.

Why do I do this? I do enjoy it...mostly. I like the creativity, I love how excited my son gets when I tell him my latest greatest idea, I adore watching the kids have a blast, and, yes, I enjoy hearing the guests' compliments (meaning the parents because six year olds aren't exactly known for appreciating things).

Kids don't need all the hoopla to have fun--I know this. They'd be happy if the party consisted of two hours of unstructured play, pizza, and cake. Our moms didn't throw us elaborately themed parties when we were little--and we sure didn't complain. Party entertainment when we were little was Pin the Tail on the Donkey and maybe a pinata. There were no professional magicians or petting zoos or kids' gyms. Cone-shaped party hats and balloons were it.

I wanted to have the party elsewhere--a bowling alley or sports complex, perhaps--but my son really wanted it to be at home. And now that he's in Kindergarten there are so many more children to invite. And because there's nothing fun going on in January, 95% RSVP'd yes. And because the weather usually sucks on party day, we can't just toss the kids outside and say "Have fun." 

So this time next week, I'll be running around the house like a crazy woman, snapping at my husband for not helping enough (he'll counter by pointing out that I didn't actually ask for his help), and trying to  clean, set up, and decorate everything in time. All so 17 little boys and girls (and one magician with a rabbit) can trash it the next day.

But I'm pretty sure it'll be awesome.

My First Annual Best and Worst Songs of the Year List -- 2011 Edition

First off, let me just say that I'm fully aware this isn't the most inclusive list. For example, there's no country, hip-hop, or dance/R&B music on it. I generally don't listen to anything besides rock and pop, so unless a song is awesome enough to catch my attention--like last year's "Single Ladies" by Beyonce or "D.J. Got Us Fallin' in Love" by Usher--it's not gonna make my list.

This year nothing outside my preferred genres piqued my interest. But all the pop & rock songs listed below are pretty great, I think.

TOP TEN BEST SONGS OF 2011:

10. "Lonely Boy" -- The Black Keys Completely rocking yet groovy at the same time, this song has a guitar riff that would make the Church Lady stand up and play air guitar.
9. "Brand New Day" -- Trevor Hall I don't know anything about this guy, but he's got a cool, throaty voice. And the song is super-feel-good.
8. "Cough Syrup" -- Young the Giant Chris Martin so wishes he wrote this catchy tune.
7. "Mr. Know It All" -- Kelly Clarkson I love a song that calls out a dude for being a jerk. Adding a great beat and Ms. Clarkson's powerful voice makes it pop perfection.
6. "The Last Living Rose" -- P.J. Harvey Ms. Harvey is one of my all-time favorite artists. This song is beautiful and haunting.

5. Tie: "The Calamity Song" and "This Is Why We Fight" -- The Decemberists Two interesting, expertly-constructed, and catchy tunes from the same album. I can't decide which one I like best.

4. "Holdin' on to Black Metal" -- My Morning Jacket Hiring an all-female choir to sing back-up on this song was brilliant. A bunch of hairy dudes + ladies in robes = pure magic.

3. "Lost in My Mind" -- The Head and the Heart The soaring harmonies in this song's chorus are spectacular. I smile every time I hear it.
2. "Pumped Out Kicks" -- Foster the People Even if I'm driving in my car when this awesome song comes on the radio, I can't help but dance and sing along. Watch out, highway patrol!

1. "Rolling in the Deep" -- Adele Yes, it was over-played and yes, Adele was over-exposed in 2011, but this song is pretty much perfect. I was completely blown away the first time I heard it...it deserves to be #1.

And since you can't have a "Best" list without a "Worst" one....

TOP FIVE WORST SONGS OF 2011:

5. "I Wanna Go" -- Britney Spears The worst Auto-Tune nightmare EVER.

4. "Moves Like Jagger" -- Maroon 5 I happen to like this band, which usually puts out delicious pop songs. Expecting more from them makes me extra-hate this one.

3. "Party Rock Anthem" -- LMFAO This joke-of-a-song was everywhere all year long. It just plain sucks. 

2. "Comeback Kid (That's My Dog)" -- Brett Dennen If I'm home when this stupid tune comes on the radio, I have to sprint across the room to turn it off. Dumb, dumb, dumb song. 

1. "Friday" -- Rebecca Black Putting this at #1 almost feels like a cop-out because it's so obvious. But the song is absolutely awful. You know the gory details, I don't need to explain myself.

That's my list...hope you enjoyed it. Maybe it even introduced you to a great song or two that you hadn't yet heard. If so, yay!

Happy 2012!

Deck the Halls (and Front Lawns, Steps, Porches, Shrubbery...)

The holiday season brings out the kid in all of us. That or the Grinch secretly residing in our soul. Luckily for me, it's the former.

I get really excited about Christmas--maybe even more so than my kids. After all, I'm the one who suggests we go get our Christmas tree pretty much before we've even digested the Thanksgiving turkey. It's me who blasts the Christmas tunes in the car and sings along at the top of my voice (while my three year old screams "STOP SINGING!" from the back seat). I'm the one who, on or around December 18th, can no longer stand the suspense and sheepishly asks my husband if the kids and I can open just one present.

And oh, how I love the houses all decorated with lights! I even get a kick out of the cheesy blow-ups. Though I refuse to put one of those monstrosities on our own lawn, that doesn't stop me from admiring them on our neighbors' properties.

One of the over-the-top houses in our neighborhood.

We--as in the members of our generation--seem so much more willing to embrace our inner-children than our parents were. I wonder why that is?

When we were little, my brothers and I would beg our parents to drive us around the town next to ours because the people who lived there really went crazy with the decorations. (Here's the formula: Middle-class town=excessive, tacky, wonderful decorations; upper-middle-class town: wreaths and candles in the windows.)

Nothing has really changed--it's still me begging to check out Christmas decorations...except now I end up begging my kids instead of my parents.

The other day, I was driving the kids home after a pediatrician's appointment. It was around 5 p.m. and pitch black already.

"Hey, kids! How about we drive around the neighborhood and look at some decorations?"

"Nah," my son chimes in from the back. "I just want to go home."

"Oh, c'mon, pleeeeeeeease?" I beg.

But guess what? I'm the one in the driver's seat now (literally and figuratively). So there. These days, when I say we're going to drive around and look at the pretty Christmas decorations then WE ARE DRIVING AROUND AND LOOKING AT PRETTY CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS, DAMN IT! Whether my kids like it or not. Ha!

Happy holidays, everyone!

Face Invaders

I've been looking forward to tomorrow night for a while now. The rugby team my husband played for for years is having their annual Awards/Get-Drunk-and-Crazy Dinner in the city. It was a fun event even when we lived in NYC pre-kids and went out all the time, but now that we can count on one hand the number of times we get out each year without the kids, it's downright exciting.

I will be wearing a pretty dress, heels, and mascara for the first time since summer.

So the cold sore that appeared on my upper lip a few days ago was less welcome than usual.

AAAHHHHHH, SUSAN!!! Why, why, why? This is SO YOU, just classic, gross Susan. Oh, there's an important event coming up? BAM! Cold sore!

You should hear me the week leading up to something fun (high-school reunion, Christmas party, tropical vacation, whatever); I begin reciting my pleasedon'tletmegetacoldsore, pleasedon'tletmegetacoldsore mantra. I'm not sure who I'm telling exactly because generally I'm not a prayer, but I figure begging and pleading can't hurt. (Hey, you never know who might be listening, though why they'd listen to me, I don't know.)

This week's cold sore got me thinking about my childhood and the dreaded SCHOOL PICTURE DAY. Because, inevitably, I'd get a cold sore beforehand and ruin the photo.

Oh, you think I'm exaggerating? Yeah, so did I at first. I thought maybe once I had a cold sore in a school picture and that time had distorted the memory. But then while at my parents' house over Thanksgiving, I decided to peruse some old photo albums.

And that's when I confronted The Horror (not in chronological order):

Super-cute pigtails...super-gross cold sore.

My mom calls this one my "Queen
Victoria" pose. I call it "Ugly Amish
girl with cold sore."

The smile is a hopeful one that says "Gee, I
hope my almost-but-not-quite-gone cold sore
doesn't show up in the picture!" No such
luck, Little Susan.

I loved that APPLE shirt. What I didn't love
was the cold sore that appeared on my face
 every year before Picture Day. (The glare
hides it but trust me it's there, bottom-right).

Mustard-colored 70's turtleneck=ugly
Mustard-colored turtleneck + cold sore=heinous

All five photos are from elementary school. And since I was in elementary school for a total of six years...well, you do the math. Okay, I'll do the math: over 80% of the time I had a cold sore in my school photo. That is craaaazy. And disgusting, painful, and embarrassing.

And humbling...definitely oh-so humbling.

"Everyone Is the Age of Their Heart." - Guatemalan Proverb

Ha-ha-ha, what a lie....

I think I might be having a mid-life crisis. All I know for sure is that I've been struggling lately, and I decided putting my thoughts and feelings down in words might help me sort it out. So please bear with me.

I've been feeling really nostalgic lately--not the good kind when you fondly remember past fun times, but the yucky kind when you feel not quite present in the present (if that makes any sense). I'm not nostalgic for any particular time or place or person, but rather I miss the way I used to be and feel and relate to the world.

Ahhh, those were the good ol' days. Too bad I didn't
appreciate it. "Youth is wasted on the young" as they say.

When I was younger, the way I looked played a big part in how I related to people--especially men, of course. A young woman's allure can be a useful and powerful thing. I wasn't one of those who used her looks to unfairly take advantage of a situation (unless the guy was a jerk and deserved it) but I certainly enjoyed the attention my appearance got me over the years. So shoot me. And there is no doubt a woman's allure can open doors.

Because the way I was treated was partially due to my appearance, of course how I looked became a significant part of my identity (as it does for most people, whether they admit it or not).

Now that I'm getting older, I feel myself teetering on the precipice of undesirable and this leaves me feeling a bit rudderless. While an older woman can "look good for her age," (and there's always that crushing "for her age" added on at the end) she will never again be a hot, young girl. An older woman is more experienced and (hopefully) wiser than her younger counterpart--and this is certainly something to celebrate--but it doesn't change the fact that she is no longer viewed as desirable by the world in general. And that sucks.

Nowadays when I walk past a construction site, I bristle in anticipation of the cat-call, but when it doesn't come, instead of feeling relieved I'm deflated. Life is more boring this way.

The questions I ask myself are these: What is my identity now? How do others see me (and do I really want to know)? What's my role in this world supposed to be? Yes, I'm a wife, mother, daughter, sister, etc., but who am I deep down inside?

All I know is, the girl I once was is no more and I miss her, hot mess that she was.

Does everyone have such problems as they age, or am I just vainer than most? My guess is it's about 50/50. Maybe it's especially difficult right now because it's only recently that I've started feeling, well, not old exactly...just not young anymore. Maybe, instead of getting worse as I age, I'll get used to feeling this way and it won't bother me as much?

I certainly hope so.