Four Crying Out Loud

More than Santa Claus, your sister knows when you've been bad and good. --Linda Sunshine Being the youngest of three sisters, I got left out of everything fun.  I had no school dances to attend, no ballgames; nothing but a Friday night of "Who's the Boss?" on the old tv.  I smelled my sisters as they dabbed on their Cody Wild Musk cologne.  I watched them exit the home, their bangs narrowly missing the eaves of the roof.  I heard them ask me if I wanted to go with them, only to shout "Psych!" when I got on my coat. I am going to spend time in the "bad place" for my work as a sister on this earth.  As a young child, I looked for ways to elicit a negative response from them.  I used humiliation, covert operations, and plain old meanness to counteract the frustration of not belonging in their group. It must have been the mid-80's when I got Western Barbie for Christmas.  She had this neat gizmo in her back, that when you pressed it, one

I was absent the day "Sports Mom 101" was taught in school.  Consequently, I ended up taking its sister course "Faking It" to compensate.  It taught me useful strategies to use when facing the challenges of not comprehending youth sports.  1.  Sit by a mom who knows what the hell is going on.  In between your conversations about Science Fair and what you failed to fix for dinner that night, you can easily slide in a "now what just happened there?" when she isn't looking.  This will force her to turn her head back to the game.  Even if nothing significant happened, she will still give you some tiny bit of useful sports information that you can store away for later.  FYI:  "Oh, they just stopped the game because he was tying his shoe" is not useful.  Ever. 2.  This one is obvious:  Cheer when they cheer.  There is a drawback to this tactic; especially if you are sitting in a mixed crowd of moms.  This generally happens when you want to sit

The movies depict parents dropping their kids off at school on a sunny day, curbside, hugging, even stopping to look back and wave.  I want to find that school, drop my kids off at it, and hang out long enough to watch their little faces walk through the door.  Sadly, my kids and I will never experience this kind drop off.  That school doesn't exist.   I have it timed on our car clock how long it takes to get to school.  If we are pulling off at 7:52am, we are doomed, no matter how fast I drive or how many stop signs I roll through.  Doomed parents earn their doomed kids a spot in detention for tardiness.  Parents will go to great lengths to keep this kind of guilt off their shoulders.     Like several other parents who are still screaming "have you brushed your teeth?" and "you need $11 dollars for what?" at 7:51am, we are in a race to beat the clock.   8 o’clock am is the enemy.  The punishment ensues when we arrive at the school.  A single file of bum