Holiday Cheer

Hello and happy holidays, lovely readers. Although I meant to post more this month (um, last month), it seems I've gone from one holiday activity to another and am finally in the post holiday relaxation phase. I consider this time between Christmas and when everyone returns to work and school after New Year's to still be "the holidays," so in no way do I feel delinquent bringing you the following holiday cheers...and maybe a few jeers.

• Cheers to the friends and family who sent a steady stream of greetings to our home this month. We love seeing your pictures and hearing about your adventures. Extra kudos go to those of you who were so clever with your words and funny with your photos or actually hand wrote a note. I put up all the cards we receive on our glass doors and by the end of the season, the whole thing looks like a very diverse, festive, old-school Facebook Friends Collage.



• Cheers to the teachers who put together so many class parties, holiday programs and festive activities. Even though I may grumble about all the holiday projects that come home each year, I love having that stuff around. A friend of mine still decorates her home with her son's holiday drawings and artwork from the early grades. That son got married this summer! My kids' gifts to us were a gorgeous ceramic tile with a colorful hand print and a calendar with our family's birthdays and other important dates highlighted. Thanks teachers!


• Jeers to getting laid off a week before Thanksgiving. Anytime is a bad time to be out of work, but it takes a special kind of scrooge to give you the axe at the holidays. I'm confident that my friend, Karma, will prevail in the end.

• Cheers to celebrating both Christmas and Hannukah. Both holidays are special and fun and I feel lucky that we get to enjoy them both. What would December be without our tree and ornaments and latkes and gelt? This year we turned off all the lights other than the tree when lighting our Menorah. It provided a lovely glow for the occasion. The kids are getting into reciting the blessings and lighting the candles themselves and it's lovely to see them participating. We know so many families who observe both holidays and I enjoyed sending them this card:complete with wishes inside for a Merry Chrismukkah and L'Shanah Tova (Happy New Year). Speaking of Chrismukkah, check out http://www.chrismukkah.com/ . Here's someone who's taken the meaning of "Moses is Moses, business is business" and run with it. Very cute and clever. Although I still despise Hannukah ornaments.

• Cheers to the Wii! We're all having so much fun with our new toy. Finally, there's something the family can all enjoy.

• Cheers to my dad who came up with the best Hannukah present ever: all the home movies of me until age 7 on DVD. How much fun to see baby ME and my mom and dad as young parents. Way to go Baba.

• Jeers to yet another family malady: this time Ray's messed up his neck and shoulder and has been in intense pain. This is in addition to 2 kids with messed up stomachs, 3 kids with colds and my stupid cough/cold/congestion that is back before it ever fully went away. Things seem to be improving slightly but it's been a difficult week for all of us, especially him.

• Cheers to a great New Year's eve and day after. We went to my parents', where I effectively abdicated all of my parental responsibilities and didn't think for a good 24 hours. At least 12 of those hours were spent sleeping. It's just what the doctor ordered.

• Cheers to all of you. Thanks for hanging in there with me and reading my rants and ramblings this year. I could promise more regular posts in the coming year but I know me and my crazy life and I'll just promise to do my best. Here's to a happy, healthy and prosperous new year for us all, with just enough humor thrown in to keep us sane.

Rants and Raves

Rave: My friend, Laura, who is always so nice and supportive.

Rant: People who can't be bothered to return a phone call (or 10).

Rave: The pediatric optician who finally found frames that Julia would concede to consider wearing.

Rant: Not having her on our vision plan. Ouch!

Rave: My new Uppercase Living website, and people who are as into the product as I am!

Rant: Not being able to choose what goes on my wall next!

Rave: Mommy group therapy.

Rave: Mommy wars.

Rave: It's finally fall! Hooray for changing leaves and Halloween decorations.

Rant: The 30 degree difference in temperature from the morning to the afternoon. How am I supposed to dress my kids?

Rave: The election is less than 3 weeks away...the campaigning is about to end.

Rant: I'm not overly thrilled with our choices and the one proposition I feel strongly about has a good chance of losing.

Rave: Pumpkin Spice Lattes and Pumpkin Cream Cheese muffins are back at Starbucks!

Rant: Still no drive-through Starbucks anywhere near here.

Rave: The Amazing Race. How cute was Phil's dad?

Rant: Desperate Housewives. I need No-Doz just to get through an episode.

Rave: Being back in Mommy & Me with Brady, a few nice moms and an awesome teacher.

Rant: Listening to "I go to school today?" a thousand times each day that we don't go to school.

Rave: Julia's soccer team is doing great, they made the playoffs, she scored a goal last week (!!!!) and Ethan finally seemed to get it together in his last game.

Rant: Too many of their games are scheduled simultaneously and I hate missing one. Plus his games are WAY TOO EARLY.

Rave: Sweet 3rd grade girls who hold hands and giggle and don't even know why.

Rant: Mean 3rd graders who shove, threaten and bully, and then break the rules knowing that the other kids are too scared to tell. It's too early for this stuff.

Pity Party

Despite my best efforts to find silver linings and bright sides to my current predicament, there are some things that I'm having a hard time overlooking:

• The sound of chisels, hammers, and even a jackhammer coming from downstairs, pretty much all day for the last two days. And we got an extra early start today.
• Having spent more money than we ever imagined we could on a nice big home, only to be holed up in one hot hot hot sweaty bedroom...half the time in the dark.
• The fact that all these fans and equipment running in the house are putting such a strain on our home's overloaded electrical equipment that I can hardly turn on a light, or a fan, or try to make toast for my kids without tripping a circuit. Taking a shower in pitch black is not a fun adventure.
• Our plumber telling us that in 13-14 years of work, he'd seen a "spontaneous burst" like ours (i.e. total fluke, no reason for it) only 4 times.
  
• Hearing my kids tell me that they no longer like their new house.
  
• That my poor little toddler has nowhere to toddle.
• The collective B.O. of 7 workers wafting up my stairwell.
• Being back at square one with so many aspects of moving, organizing, decorating.
• Not knowing when this will all be over. And just what the next catastrophe will be.
  

There, I feel a little better.

The Police at Dodger Stadium: The Bad

A word of advice: if you find yourself injured in some way and happen to be going to Dodger Stadium, do not expect one iota of help from the unhelpful, untrained, uninformed and unsympathetic staff.

After having paid over $100 each for tickets to see The Police Saturday night, we decided to spend the extra $15 (over and above the exorbitant $20 charge for regular parking) for preferred parking, hoping to reduce the amount of walking my poor hobbling husband had to do on his dislocated and contused knee. We asked
the parking attendant which lot would be closest to our seats and were directed to the appropriate place. When we got to the entrance, we were directed to one entrance (more walking) only to be told when we got there that we needed to be elsewhere (walk right on back to where you came from). And then, when we finally got in, we realized (you know what's coming, right?) that our seats were exactly on the opposite side of the entrance we'd been directed to. Seriously, when you work at Dodger Stadium, do you never have to look at a map of the place as part of your training?

At this point, I was sure on of the seemingly millions of ushers and various staff hanging around talking to their buddies would be happy to help my obviously injured husband, in his big, black knee brace, and I reach our seats as quickly as possible. Luckily, there seemed to be this giant FIELD right in front of us that we could simply cross to get right to where we needed to be. But no, apparently you need to be personal friends with God himself (herself?) to be granted access to the field. Never mind that our seats were less than 10 rows up from the precious field. No amount of begging, pleading, or explaining would get us past the gate to the field. We were offered a wheel chair, which Ray wasn't interested in, and that was it. And forget trying to talk to a supervisor. It was like trying to find the Customer Service phone number on Amazon.com. It just wasn't happening. So, around the stadium we limped.

Fast forward to the end of the show (more to come on that in the next post). At this point, I figured that it would be OK for us to walk back across the field, seeing as the SHOW WAS OVER and EVERYONE WAS LEAVING. Ha! At this point the ushers were tired, cranky or just pissed off and once again the answer was "No." Not "Sorry, no." Not, "I wish I could." None of that. Forget courtesy. Forget that our ticket sales pay their salaries. Forget that we were just trying to get the hell out of the stadium. The rudeness was disgusting.

Apparently, having the preferred parking did get us out of the park faster, but that was the only benefit. I hate being one of those customers who is constantly complaining about things, but in this case, I don't think it's too much to ask for parking attendants to know which side of the stadium is odd or even, for entry attendants to know which entrance they happen to be manning, or for ushers to be polite and courteous even if they can't be helpful. While Dodger Stadium is a phenomenal place to watch a baseball game or concert, and Dodger Dogs are the best in the world, that doesn't eliminate the need for customer service. Los Angeles residents have a lot of entertainment options, including another baseball team down the freeway and a dozen or more other concert venues. Why go somewhere where you'll get ripped off and be disrespected?

Big thanks to malingering for this great shot of Dodger Stadium.

Letters

I've sadly realized once again that the retail world is going seriously awry without the benefit of my guidance. Therefore, I'm graciously giving my wise input in the following letters:

Dear Target:
You know I love you and you know I can't walk out without spending massive amounts of money in your store. But listen up: you cannot open a new 2-story store in a ritzy mall with a Nordstrom and a Neiman-Marcus and then cut corners in the bathroom. The family bathroom is definitely a nice touch but do not for one minute think that you can get away for one minute without seat covers or paper towels in the women's restroom. Gross. Gross. Gross. Figure out a different place to save money cause this one will not do.

Dear Chuck E. Cheese:
You have managed to actually create a place where annoyed parents willingly go to get headaches and buy bad, overpriced pizza. But this time you've blown it. Target the teenagers with arcade style games if you must. But don't do it at the expense of your littlest customers who want slides, ball-pits and the occasional ride with Barney and Bob the Builder. The little ones are so disappointed to find that their favorite rides and activities are gone and have been replaced with video games and stupid machines that take your token and spit out tickets instantly...only to have the kids rushing back to mom and dad for another token. Maybe, Chuck, you're in cahoots with the gaming industry and are breeding the next generation of slot machine junkies. Maybe you forgot that certain 3 year olds have been known to ride Bob over and over and over, prompting Mommy to spend an entire twenty dollar bill as they say "another money." And maybe it's escaped your attention that most self-respecting teens will not be thrilled to hang out anywhere there's a giant goofy mouse walking around. Don't screw with the little ones and bring back Barney.

Dear Gap Corporation:
I was thrilled when your new concept, Forth and Towne opened at my local mall. Imagine, grown up clothes in a wide range of grown up sizes! Do my eyes deceive me? I was a little concerned by the size of the store (a huge investment in real estate, to be sure) and a little annoyed by the overly chatty saleswomen. But then one brought me a bottle of water, pointed me to some sale stuff (wow, great deals too!) and I forgot all about it. So you can imagine my disappointment this week when I read that you're giving up on the concept and closing one of my favorite stores. Huge bummer for me and the other ladies I've turned on to you. I understand your company is bleeding money and you have to do something drastic. So close Forth and Towne if you must, but for the love of god, increase the size ranges at the Gap, Banana Republic, and Old Navy, and give me a reason to continue spending with you.

Dear Cheesecake Factory:
You have got to get a clue about service. Just because your food is really good (also expensive) and your decor is lovely doesn't mean that customers will continue to put up with your snooty attitude and bad service. Here are some suggestions:

• When someone calls ahead to get a table, give it to them. They want to spend money at your restaurant and you'd much rather have them doing that than pissing them off by making them wait in your overcrowded lobby from hell.
• Train your dumb teenage hostesses to do their job. They are the first person a customer sees when they come in. Do you really want them looking that vacant? If your hostess doesn't know what to do with a large party, don't make the customer wait 10 minutes while she gets a manager, and then add that customer to the cue after everyone who's walked in for the last 10 minutes.
  
• Don't tell a customer that you'll seat them in a half hour and then make them wait 45 minutes. And once you let them know their table is ready, don't have them hang out in the lobby from hell for another 15 while the hungry kids run and scream and the sleepy baby cries. It was all under control until you called us for a table that still wasn't ready.
• When you've completely screwed up the seating process and have a table full of hungry, angry people, you might inform the server to provide some really great service. Like get the kids their drinks first. Or give them something to eat right away. Or comp them some free appetizers while they read the menu. JUST DO SOMETHING.
  

I usually consider myself as someone who doesn't get angry easily. I try to be patient in restaurants and not give the servers any reason to ahem, augment, my food. I say please and thank you and teach my children to do the same. I do not indiscriminately yell at people. In fact, I never had. But you drove me to it, and I'm not sorry. Do your job, and I'll do mine. Otherwise, the food just isn't worth the hassle.

Dear Craigslist:
I have been intrigued by you for a while but only discovered your true potential a couple of weeks ago when I listed a baby item for sale and sold it in 8 minutes. Amazing! Thinking it would always be like this, I listed more stuff...and it's sat there. Boo! I've been spoiled, admittedly, but it sucks when I actually have to wait for buyers. Today I got another bite so I'm thinking maybe our relationship will work out after all. Let's hope so because there's a lot of stuff I need to get rid of before I can finally move out of my house.

Dear Advil:
If I had a penny left after all the house spending, I would buy stock in whichever genius company makes you. Once again you have come to my rescue and allowed me to continue caring for my family, albeit slightly hunched over and tense, in the midst of a really bad and scary back attack. Please do not forsake me in these busy days of birthday partying and moving and general life and I will continue to sing your praises to all who will listen.

Random Thoughts and Updates

Agreeing to have Ray go to Las Vegas this weekend (just one night) for his annual dork convention, also known as the Fantasy Football Draft, earned me a little bit of time this afternoon to sit, veg, and not think. First order of business is to blather on a bit about some random stuff:

• First Grade seems to be going just fine, just as I hoped it would. The offending kid apparently hates ALL girls, not just mine; all the moms tell me that they've heard great things about Julia's teacher (no idea how), and most importantly, Julia is perfectly happy in her class. So far, so good.
• Other than a discolored middle finger (the joke continues), my hand no longer bears any signs of the fnipple. After the whole slicing off bit the black skin eventually fell off and there's brand new normal skin underneath. My hand doctor was very happy, and almost seemed surprised, that the granuloma seems to be gone. There's a little bump where it was, but it doesn't seem to be coming back so far. Woo hoo!
• Potty training has begun anew, God help us. I'm trying to have a sense of humor about it, and am trying some new parenting techniques (more on that in a later post) that are hopefully making it easier on Ethan and less frustrating for me, although cleaning poop off carpet is inherently frustrating, no matter how it got there and whose it is. We're nowhere near done, especially since he can't figure out that underwear is not absorbent like diapers. Preschool starts tomorrow (you'll find me at the mall with JUST ONE KID!!!) and I'm hoping that a group trip to the bathroom will move things along a bit more quickly.
• Thanks to everyone who commented on the baby food issue. I appreciate knowing I'm not the only one out there who thinks homemade baby food is a good idea. Brady is doing great on it so far, although he doesn't love carrots. He does love slurping pears through his little mesh baggie and has almost mastered holding the contraption himself. What a great mom I am, training my 6 month old to feed himself.
  

That's a good rundown of what's been going on around here. I've also had to deal with a Bridezilla issue that is now resolved to my satisfaction by my not attending a wedding I thought I was going to. Just a note: if you're getting married, and your mom tells my mom that it's OK to bring my infant if I need to, and so I plan on it, and arrange a babysitter for the older kids, don't leave me a snooty message telling me that the hotel has some rooms blocked for my nanny to take the baby into. Nanny? Are you kidding? Honey, if I had a nanny you can bet that I'd be using her to go to someplace better than your dumb wedding. And on a similar note, if you promise your daughter at least a month ago that you'll babysit her kids so she can attend a work event with her husband, and then you get invited out to yet another dinner party, it's rude to ask your daughter what you should do. Either flake and own up to it and deal with your guilt, or do the right thing and skip the damn party for once. Better yet, if you're planning on having children and ever asking your parents to, God forbid, watch them for an evening, make sure their social life isn't way, way better than yours.

Feeling Hot Hot HOT!

I'm not usually one to get too concerned about hot weather. You turn on the A/C, eat some ice cream and deal with it. Summer is my favorite season so I'd rather have the heat and flip-flops- and the beach and long days with no school than a cool, rainy day. But it seems even I have reached my limit with our current heat wave. 20 straight days with 100+ temperatures is approaching something out of the bible (and not the happy parts). To be honest, it didn't really start bugging me until day 16 or so. We survived Disneyland (even DH who gets flustered when it gets over 80) and frankly I was getting really bored with the fact that all anyone was talking about was the weather. But now I'm right there along with everyone else. It's hot. And humid (what the hell? where did that come from?). And hot. And sticky and miserable. The kids can't go outside and are getting stir crazy. I don't feel like moving or eating or thinking and just feel snarky (love that word from my friend Beth). It's starting to feel like there just isn't enough cold Starbucks drinks or shave ice to cool us down. Maybe we're just not trying hard enough. If you run into me in the next few days, be careful. I'm just looking for someone to snap at.