Kids At Upscale Restaurants?

Friday night Michael and I went out for a post-birthday celebratory dinner at one of our favorite restaurants.

Let me just say that we make a point of going out on fairly regular "dates" sans kids - at least on a monthly basis. When Michael and I are able to corral a sitter and go out, just the two of us, we generally like to do it up nice, meaning we like to get a bit dressed up and go eat at a nice place - someplace we wouldn't ordinarily go to (i.e., with the kids). Someplace with a view of some sort, a full bar, and servers who wear bow ties. We do go out to dinner with the kids, too, fairly often, but in those instances, we go to "kid-friendly" places - places that serve chicken strips and give out crayons and paper activity menus.

So we went to one of our favorite restaurants Friday night - a place on top of a hill with a gorgeous view of the city lights below, a place with a full bar and servers wearing bow ties. And I was, not for the first time, very surprised to see quite a few families there. With kids. Little kids. There was one couple who came in with an infant in a stroller (this is most definitely not a stroller-friendly restaurant).

It's not that it bothers me to be in the company of kids (when I've gone to such effort and expense to get away from my own for an evening!); all of the kids who were there seemed very well-behaved. It's really that it just baffles me. Why would anyone want to bring their kids to a place like that? A place where they don't even have a kid's menu, and where there's nothing on the menu under $25. And so late! Our dinner reservations were at 8:30, and by the time we were served our food (after a delicious appetizer of calamari and a round of cocktails), it was around 9:30. Who has their kids up that late eating dinner? It baffles me.

I'm curious, though, where do you stand on this? Feel free to comment or respond to the poll in the sidebar.

Remembering 9/11/01

Everyone's talking about it today. All over Facebook you see "I'll never forget," and "What were you doing on 9/11/01?"

As for me, on September 11, 2001 I was scheduled to have surgery to repair a hernia. I remember waking up very early that morning to get ready to go to the hospital. When I came out of the bathroom, Michael had the TV in our bedroom turned on and the news was replaying a scene of a jet crashing into a skyscraper. It was confusing - I remember thinking at first that it was fake; was it a special effect scene from a movie or something? Then somehow it registered that it was real, but of course then, for those few brief moments, we, like everyone else, thought it was a horrible accident. Then we watched on the television screen as the second plane flew right into the second tower. And it was really difficult to wrap your head around it. What . . . ?? Another accident?? What a horrible coincidence, two planes flying into two buildings, one right after the other . . . ??

The details are murky, but of course it wasn't long before everyone realized that it was no accident, and talk of terrorism took root. And even though it was all happening way on the other side of the country, it suddenly felt very unsafe even to be 3,000 miles from it.

We still had to go to the hospital, and I remember lying on a gurney in pre-op where there was a small television mounted from the ceiling, and of course that's all that was on every channel - news about the terrorist attacks, the Twin Towers, the Pentagon, the mass death and destruction.

The surgery was awful - or rather, the recovery was. It was an outpatient surgery, so I was sent home that afternoon with a three-inch incision in my sternum and a drainage tube snaking out of my abdomen. I was in terrible pain, and for a week all I could do was lie on the couch or in bed watching TV, and all that was on TV was post-attack footage and news. It was completely surreal. All planes were grounded and the airspace closed - across the entire nation! - and it was one of those weird things where the absence of something is palpably noticeable. For days, you didn't hear the faint drone of an airplane or helicopter - sounds that were so mundane that you barely registered them in their presence - and the silence was eerie. Occasionally there would be the distant roar of a military aircraft, which added to the feeling of unease.

And now every year on the anniversary, people talk about it, they remember. It's one of those horrific bookmarks in time that seem to come along every generation: while people from my parents' generation will forever remember where they were when President Kennedy was shot - and feel they were changed by the event - my generation will always remember where they were when the Twin Towers went down, and feel that they were changed by the event.

Have we changed, though? I think people would like to believe so, in order to make such a catastrophic tragedy mean something. It's hard to accept that it was utterly senseless. I'm sure good has come out of the events of 9/11 on a personal level for many people - surely those who were there, or who lost loved ones, or who had loved ones who made it out alive - have been profoundly affected. But those are individuals. Has the world changed? Has humanity as a whole learned anything from it worth knowing, and applied that new knowledge in ways that make the world a better place?

I don't see it.

At the heart of it is an inability and/or unwillingness to accept and love our fellow human beings. The attacks of 9/11 that left so many dead, wounded, widowed, and orphaned, were orchestrated and carried out by religious zealots, written off by most "rational" people as nut-jobs. Yes, they were extremists, but everyday people carry out attacks on their fellow human beings every day on a smaller, but insidious, scale, born out of their beliefs. Regular people sit in judgment of other people, deeming them destined for eternal damnation, actively seeking to strip them of basic rights, judging them morally inferior, unworthy of common decency and kindness, all the time. All in the name of religion and faith.

No, aside from beefing up security and making it more of a pain in the ass to get anywhere by plane, I don't think the world has changed much since 9/11. And as for End Times? Yeah, it'll come at some point, but at our own hand, not the hand of some omnipresent figure.

Bill Maher says it better than I ever could.

Ruminations of an Aging Birthday Girl

Well, here we are again, another year passed, and me sitting here wondering how the hell I got to be the age I am now. Geez. I swear I was just 18, like, last week. Okay, maybe not 18, but 34 (which is the age I've settled on to stay, in case anyone's counting). The funny thing about getting older is that in your head, you really kind of remain the same. I mean, sure, you (hopefully) gain wisdom and maturity as you get older, but I haven't found that I feel much differently than I did when I was . . . younger.

It's the body that changes, the body that sort of screws you over. It used to be that I could eat anything I wanted, and as much of it as I cared to, and I was still lucky enough to remain svelte. That all changed when I hit my 40s, though. Not that I'm overweight, but now I can't seem to lose that last five pounds that's been stubbornly sticking to me since I lost most of the pregnancy weight from Finn. Now I actually have to watch what I eat. Up until three or four years ago, people would be shocked when I told them how old I was, and they'd insist that they really thought I was several years younger. People aren't shocked anymore when I tell them how old I am! The sagging and bulging continues to progress (I want a tummy tuck . . . I desperately want a tummy tuck), I'm not as limber as I used to be, I have stress incontinence, and the other day I sneezed and my back went into spasms!

Every time I look in the mirror
All these lines on my face getting clearer
The past is gone
It goes by, like dusk to dawn
Isn't that the way
Everybody's got their dues in life to pay

Yeah.

I have to say I'm not loving being in my 40s so much. That's not to say that I'm not happy with my life (I am!), or that I sit here and think, "Wow, I really thought I would have done such and such by now, and I haven't." It's more just this sadness at knowing such a large part of my life is behind me now instead of in front of me.

I woke up this morning bright and early at 5:45, and Joey came bounding into my room, threw his arms around me and said, "Happy birthday, Mom." That was wonderful to wake up to - man, I love that kid. That was followed by hugs and birthday wishes (and demands for cake) by all the other kids. Michael wished me a happy birthday, kissed me, and said, "You don't look forty-three." It must be the gigantic zit that has been sprouting on my chin for the last several days. What is up with that, anyway? Wrinkles and zits? It humbles me.

Facebook has a wonderful way of making your birthday seem like The Most Important Day of The Year. I've gotten about a million birthday wishes from my FB friends, which is very, very cool. One of my best friends sent me the sweetest card yesterday (thanks, Jen!), and this morning my friend Caryl presented me with two jars of homemade jam and a Starbucks gift card :) Caryl is also Daisy and Annabelle's first-grade teacher, and she gave me a copy of yesterday's Morning Announcements:



Anyway, no big plans today. The older you get, the less of a party birthdays are. On today's agenda is just the usual stuff. I think I'll order pizza tonight so I don't have to cook, though. Tomorrow night Michael and I will go out to dinner.

Happy birthday to me!

Life Lessons: Teaching Kids the Value of a Dollar

I'm no financial wiz or guru, but I have some very definite opinions about the values we, as parents, instill in our kids about money - and therefore, about a lot of other things.

I grew up not having much in the way of material things. My mother was a young, single mother supporting three kids on what I'm sure in that day and age was a paltry income, as well as the paltry child support from my dad. We got basic necessities and very few extras. Although my brothers both played Little League, that was the extent of our extra-curricular activities; there were no music lessons, no dance, no trips (with the exception of a cross-country drive to Illinois when I was 8 for my dad's brother's wedding), and no trendy clothes. My brothers and I all desperately needed braces on our teeth, but we didn't get them until long after most of the other kids our age had gotten them - not until my mother married her second husband who had insurance through his employer that would pay for orthodontia.

All this has led to a consciousness on my part as a parent of all the things I did without as a kid, and a tendency to want to make up for that in the way of overcompensating. It's a tendency I've worked hard to resist, though, because I've seen the effects of kids who grew up not ever experiencing much deprivation. I can completely understand the desire, as a parent, to grant our kids instant gratification. Of course we want to make them happy, and if a new Dora doll, or a new pack of Pokemon cards is going to make them happy, what's the harm?

The harm is that kids who are handed everything they want - and worse, who even as adults are allowed or encouraged to see their parents as safety nets they can fall back on when the going gets rough - become adults who still expect instant gratification, who tend to never feel they have enough, who have very little self-restraint when it comes to acquiring things, who are selfish and irresponsible. In the long run, these qualities do not make for a happy adulthood.

I am very glad that I am in a much better financial position raising my kids than my parents were in when they were raising me and my brothers. I'm glad that we are able to provide our kids with enriching activities and experiences like sports, music lessons, and dance. When Kevin got braces on his teeth at 10 years old, I cried because I remembered how I longed for braces as a kid and had to wait so long for them, and it felt really good to be able to provide my kid with something so basic and necessary.

That said, I feel very strongly about my kids learning that money doesn't grow on trees, and that there are certain things they might want that they will have to find ways to pay for themselves. When Kevin was 9, he wanted a Nintendo DS. Santa had already brought him a Gameboy a couple years before that, so I told him if he wanted a DS, then he'd have to save his money and buy it himself. And he did. For a year, he saved his allowance as well as birthday money, and he bought that DS himself, and I am convinced that he values it much more for having done that (he still plays it at age 13, and pays for any new games he wants for it). I am happy to buy books for the kids if they are enriching, but "junk" books they want, they have to buy themselves. Even Kevin's upcoming eighth grade class trip to Washington DC we expect him to help pay for - and over the summer, through allowance, babysitting, tutoring, and a couple of lemonade stands, he raised well over the amount of money we told him he had to contribute to the cost of that trip.

I have no plans to run out and buy any of my kids a car when they turn 16 (and I am fiercely leaning towards making them wait to get their drivers' licenses anyway, as I just don't think 16-year-olds belong on the road); I don't intend to pay for any expensive weddings (I'd rather impart to my kids that it's the quality of the marriage that counts, not the wedding - elope for goodness sake!); and here's a shocking confession: we're not saving for our kids' college educations. We have retirement to worry about; I see nothing wrong with their working their way through college, taking out student loans, and/or striving for scholarships.

Giving your kids everything without ever teaching them what it feels like to work for something they want, to wait for something they want - while that may put a smile on their shining little faces now, it really only enables them to become irresponsible grown-ups. Likewise, agreeing to be your adult child's financial safety net may make you feel good, but it only enables them to remain in a stunted, immature state of never really taking full responsibility for themselves. It's one thing to be there for your kid in times of hard luck, but to repeatedly bail them out of their own bad choices doesn't do them any favors in the long run.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Product Review: Petsafe Bark Control Collar

I was serious about getting a shock collar for Twinkle in an attempt to curb her sometimes incessant barking. The Bark Off was a joke; I suspected that if I had taken it apart, I would have found it to be nothing but an empty plastic box. However, I tossed it in the garbage before I ever got around to proving what a scam that product is. Oh well, live and learn.

Anyway, her barking is a problem. Since she's an inside dog, it doesn't bother the neighbors as far as I know, but it drives us crazy. She barks when she wants attention, she barks when she hears a car outside, she barks when we're trying to have a conversation anywhere in her vicinity, and she barks nonstop when someone comes to the front door. The thought of a shock collar seems a little cruel, but I've had friends report quick success with them, so I decided to shell out the $60 and try this Petsafe Bark Control Collar, which purports to use "static correction," which supposedly feels like an "annoying tingle." They told me at Petsmart that I could return it if it didn't work, so really, I had nothing to lose.

Here's our trial run today:



As with the Bark Off, we tested it by having Joey go ring the doorbell, because she usually goes nuts when someone rings the doorbell.

It's definitely working. Interestingly, there seems to be an added bonus to this besides curbing her barking: it seems to be making her more calm overall. The truth is that at a year old, she still spends the majority of her time gated in the kitchen because she's so hyper and destructive. After she had been wearing the shock collar for a while this afternoon, I let her out of the kitchen and she has been playing with the kids out in the living room for about an hour without being a complete maniac or destroying anything. I think we've effectively broken her spirit!

Thank You

Every once in a while, someone leaves a comment here that deserves responding to by me. I read somewhere recently something about the comments left on a blog being what makes a blog a dialogue and not a monologue, and that really resonated with me. I guess that's what it all boils down to for me, this need to write publicly about the ups and downs of my humble life, and the sometimes mundane, sometimes crazy, shit that goes on in my head. It's about connecting to other people, you know? So the comments make me feel like someone's listening, someone out there can relate on some level.

When a comment is left that really strikes some chord with me, I look for a way to respond directly to the commenter, usually by clicking on their profile and seeing if they have a blog or an email address. Often, there is neither, just an anonymous profile with no mode of direct contact. I always feel slightly deflated when that happens, because I'd really sometimes like to just say a quick "Thank you!" or "Wow, you said some really meaningful things, let's talk about this some more." But if you don't have contact info listed, I can't do that.

Right now I am thinking of "Mumofone." Thank you so much for the comment you left yesterday regarding cancer. I wish I could talk to you about your experience more. I really appreciate everything you said, and thank you for your kind words.

I'd also just like to say a general thank you to everyone who reads my humble little blog and, for whatever crazy reason, is interested in the stuff I write. Thanks!

Cancer

As time goes on, Michael's cancer and the whole nightmare of treatment last year become more and more of a distant memory, ever more removed from our present reality. It's difficult to look at Michael now - who is probably in the best shape, and the best health he's ever been in - and reconcile the knowledge that last year, he was literally fighting for his life.

For all intents and purposes, we've moved on; we've put it behind us. Yes, there are still lingering effects from the cancer itself and the treatment that have become a part of his, and therefore our, daily lives - none of them especially pleasant. Still, we live in a state of relief and gratitude, and we dare to dream about the future, take it for granted even.

But sometimes it all creeps back in, the fear, the knowledge that this is all really out of our hands. Hardly a day goes by that I don't hear about cancer touching someone's life in some way. It almost seems as though there is no getting away from it. Michael has been bringing stories to me lately of people he became acquainted with on an online cancer support message board - people with the same type of cancer he had who have had a recurrence. People who have suddenly died.

People die from cancer. Even in this day and age of wildly advanced medicine and technology, people die from cancer.

It stops me cold. My insides seize up and I feel panic set in. It is such a completely helpless feeling, knowing that there is really no rhyme or reason to it, no justice. It doesn't matter how much "bad" you've already had in your life. It doesn't matter how good or bad a person you are. There are no checks and balances when it comes to cancer. And really, my husband's life is in the hands of medical professionals whom we have no choice but to trust.

Sometimes I become superstitious despite myself and I wonder if we are tempting fate by moving on and embracing life. Living in fear is no way to live, to be sure, but sometimes I picture the Cancer Gods (who look like horrific monsters in my mind) watching us and deciding to take us down a notch or two by spreading a little cancer dust on our family again.

The truth is, it never really goes away, not completely.