Candy, Kids and Other Things That Make You Sick



Mommy...I don't feel good!

OKAY,  before you start with the hate mail...stop. I am NOT bashing all kids. Heck, I have one of my own. And yes, kids add an immeasurable amount of joy and satisfaction to our lives. I simply love and adore my daughter to pieces. But, here's the catch:  kids almost always come tethered to an enormous germ pool that immediately pollutes an otherwise semi-sanitary environment.

Enter preschool: the undisputed breeding ground of all things contagious, and the root, I'm convinced, of the common cold, the flu, scarlet fever and polio. It's probably what went wrong with Tiny Tim. They don't tell you that when you drop your kid off in the morning, that you should send a bottle of Lysol, a box of antibacterial wipes, an antibiotic and a surgical mask. To hell with crayons; they are pawns of the devil. Have you seen how many kids slob, spit, sneeze, and even lick a crayon, then stick their chubby hands in their pants before grabbing the yellow? Hmmm..thanks, but I'll pass.

But, fret not my dear friends, joy does come in the morning. Or, as I like to say, in those adolescent years when our kids can truly add to our lives. Let's see. There's trash and snow removal, lawn care, dinner prep, remote control retrieval, car washing,  mopping, sweeping, and a range of household chores. Hear me now, those tasks in no way chip away at the mountain of cash you'll lay out for their mere existence, but it's a start. So, even though I know that the chocolate will, by sheer osmosis, go from my hand directly to my thighs, I deserve it. WE, as parents, deserve a sugar-laden reprieve from the daunting task of changing disgusting diapers and rubbing cream on rashes, and Vick's on chests, and for staying up at night with cranky, germ-infested sick children all over the world.

I downed a block of chocolate, a handful of Skittles and a small troth of Twizzlers while writing this:-). A cocktail makes a great chaser, might I add. Try it for yourself and let me know how it goes.

After the Hangover: New Year's Resolutions 101



    
      EVERY YEAR, we create them. We write them. We recite them. We share them and spread them. We post them on our walls, in our cars, and at our desks. They are our resolutions, some call them goals, for the New Year. But not long thereafter, sometimes within the first weeks, we lose sight, fall short and find ourselves further back than where we began, destined to repeat the drudgery that prompted our list of, "must-haves," in the first place.

     So how do we keep our focus? Not lose sight? And ultimately, reach the Promised Land (new meaning, new beginning, new career, blah, blah, blah), that for some reason, seems so close, and at the same time, so out of reach?

     Answer: Practice.

     I know. Cliche, right? No-brainer, clearly. Not profound at all. But it is the simplicity of it all that is mind-boggling. It is not complexity that succeeds, but simplicity that prevails. When searching for the big goals of 2012, those life-altering, I-believe-I-can-fly aspirations, less is more. Whether you are a high-browed elitest, a new CEO, a budding entrepreneur or an enterprising college student, it is the simplicity of your craft, and excelling within it, that will separate you from the pack.

     Too many of us try to do too many things at once, hoping that something will, "stick." This process helps to insulate us from the impact of our failures by spreading out our losses. "Don't put all of your eggs in one basket," we've all heard. Good advice if you're the Easter Bunny; not if you're in the real world with a real purpose that requires all of your energy behind ONE goal or gift - whatever that may be.

     That doesn't mean you can't sing AND dance. That doesn't mean you can't run a company and be a spouse. That doesn't mean you can't be very talented in more than one area. However, it does mean that you must discover what your talent is, excel in it, and then use that, leverage that, position that, as the foundation for everything else. So, write the book, start the business, expand the idea, open the school, begin a new career, launch the venture and form the partnership. Then make room for the harvest of opporunities that will undoubtedly follow. My gift happens to be writing, so if you are comprehending one tenth of this, I'll consider myself on the right track :-).

     Nike said it best with, "Just Do It." Why? Because practice, when applied consistently, becomes progress. Progress, when achieved continually, becomes excellence. And excellence cannot be denied, or contained.

     Welcome 2012!

         

Girls Gone Wild at the VMA's! Nicki Minaj, Katy Perry and Lady Gaga in the Spotlight

Girls Gone Wild at the VMA's!

         I stared at the television screen in complete bewilderment. I squinted my eyes and slowly leaned my head to the left the way Forrest Gump's son did at the end of the movie. It was Nicki Minaj (who I like by the way), at the Video Music Awards; a walking blur of themes and colors, colliding together under a giant Starburst hair hat. In her right hand, was a leash carrying what could only be described as the body parts of various stuffed animals, likely maimed from the twin blades protruding from her Matrix corset. I'm not certain if she took the blue pill or the red pill. And of course, there's the infant-size pink tutu, mismatch thigh-highs and surgical mask (yes, a surgical mask).

          On the opposite end of the spectrum was Lady Gaga, dressed like a guy in Elvis-style garb, apparently symbolic of her androgynous nature. I imagine it must be hard to top last year's arrival in an egg. And then there's Katy Perry who I must thank for finding that missing Rubik's Cube piece that I lost when I was 10 and then making sure she didn't lose it by wearing it on top of her head.

          Still, my teenage daughter thought this was ALL quite normal for them, which made me think that I was REALLY a parent now: completely unconnected to all things pop culture. Not only did I not know half of the 20-somethings bouncing, jumping and gyrating across the stage in dizzying form, I couldn't pronounce their names if I tried. Thank goodness for a good ole' American name like Beyonce who, in true form, stole the show and stunned the crowd. Thank goodness for Britney Spears, who, despite her many public debacles, emerged as a symbol of normalcy, wearing one solid color and delivering an acceptance speech that required no %&*$! bleeps.

          No disrespect to Katy or Lady G or Nicki. I actually like a lot of their music. Between you and I, I'll even sing along if I'm in the car alone. But when o' when does the, Say Yes to the Mess Parade, end? Is this some sort of conspiracy? Is it to torment me because of the hell I gave my parents when I cut my hair like Salt-n-Pepa and dressed like Madonna while practicing the dance moves from Janet Jackson's, Nasty, music video in the bathroom mirror every night before bed? Uh-oh. It suddenly appears like I'm in for it. Apparently, I've got it coming..and then some. What goes around has come back around :-).

Hmmm....Maybe Norman Bates Isn't Psycho After All?

       I'd always dismissed this ridiculous notion that someway, someday, I'd sound like my mother. I was too progressive, too independent, too all-things-ultra-cool. I would not be saddled by tradition or protocol that too often infringed upon the freedom of thought and expression of a child. Stop laughing. I really believed it. In fact, I almost pulled it off. That is, until the teenage years started to settle into the equation, and into my pocketbook. It was similar to an out-of-body experience when I heard my own voice exclaim, "Because I said so." GASP! Some months later, I heard it again. "Where do you think you're going with THAT on?" It was too late. Full swing now. And then, the ultimate came, when you realize, like Norman Bates, that you ARE your mother. "So long as you're living in my house, you will live by my rules." Yikes!!

        I wanted to take it back, but I couldn't. I meant every single word. And my kid is actually pretty good. She's at the top of her class, bathes without prompting, doesn't smoke, doesn't drink, and hasn't auditioned for any reality tv shows, (as of this writing), so I've actually considered myself akin to Charlie Sheen, "winnnnnnning," but we can all  agree - he is not. So, like any idealistic young parent, I have matured into the sanctity of realism. I have accepted that my notions of being genuinely interested in my child's opinion, and deeply committed to her expression of uniqueness, have all been traded in for curfews, structure and that sacred daily national anthem...okay, everybody now, "Oo-ooh, say can you seeeeeeeeee..?" Well then, turn the damn lights off that I'm paying for, it's the middle of the day!?  
        Mom, thank you. You've never been more right.