50-something Moms Blog

The Doggie in the Window

"I want a dog," my daughter announced for the umpteenth time. I reflexively replied with my usual answer:

"That's nice. But what about the cats?"

I wasn't always a cat person. That's something that developed over time, when I was a single gal living in an apartment complex that didn't allow dogs - but tolerated pets of the feline persuasion. I adopted my first kitten by accident, when a co-worker tired of the pet he acquired just a few weeks earlier -- and told me he was going to take her to the animal shelter.

I was so clueless, I didn't even know I needed some kind of carrier to take the kitten home. She pooped in my car.

I began to think that taking her on was a big mistake.

Que Sera, Sera (I Don't Need No Stinkin' Resolutions)

New Year's Day was our last in Park City, and my husband decided to culminate our stay with a fabulous dinner for two at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse (which was conveniently located inside our hotel).

"So... what are your resolutions?" he asked.

He was surprised when I told him I don't make them any longer.

After all, by the time you are my age, they are all the same: Eat healthier. Exercise. Spend wisely. Be a better parent. Be a better wife.

This is the stuff we're supposed to be doing in our daily lives anyway. It seems silly to resolve to do it on January 1st each year when I'm struggling to keep all those balls in the air 365 days a year.

Rather than resolving to take some kind of new action, I am trying to enact a change of attitude.

"My goal for this year is to stop worrying so much. I just want to try and be happy."

Rushing the Holiday Spirit

Thanksgiving at my sister's house was close to perfect - from the table settings to the array of food and pies. But one thing she did surprised me: We partied to a soundtrack of Christmas music.

Don't get me wrong: I love the holiday songs, from "Adeste Fidelis" to "White Christmas" and everything in-between. But the urge to get into the Christmas spirit earlier each year makes me crazy.

I don't want to hear Christmas carols or see holiday decorations until at least the day AFTER Thanksgiving. Sadly, I think I'm part of a dying breed. My neighbors started putting up their lights a couple of weeks ago, and some of the stores I frequent began selling holiday merchandise in late September. 

Moreover, the last thing I want to do the morning after Thanksgiving is get up in the middle of the night and head off to Wal-Mart or Target and go shopping. Fighting crowds and jostling for the best bargains is not my idea of a good time on any day - and it's certainly not a good idea after a hangover-inducing evening of eating and making merry.

Style? What Style?

Shopping with my 13-year-old can be a trip... to the psychiatrist. I have learned to keep my opinions to myself and let her find her own style.

If only.she would return the favor. Last week, while shopping for new shoes (for her), I happened to look longingly at a cute pair of boots.

"That's not your style," she sniffed.

She has a point. I actually don't have a style. Shortly after she was born, we obtained a mortgage and lost a second income. She has rarely seen me wear anything but jeans, t-shirts and trainers. That doesn't mean I don't like stylish clothes... I just don't have a lot of budget for anything that isn't purely functional, nor many reasons to dress in anything that isn't casual.

The Deal with School Selection

When I was a kid, going to school was easy. You lived in a neighborhood and you went to a school you could walk to, and parents could be reasonably sure that their kids were learning what they needed to know in a safe, secure place.

That gives you an idea of how old I am. Those days are long gone. Safety and security are no longer a given, and neither is the idea that your kid is going to be in the right learning environment.

But hey - at least now, we have choices. All the kids in all the schools are tested and scores are published. If your neighborhood school isn't up to par, you have the option of going elsewhere. You can pick a magnet school, a charter school, a "school for advanced studies" - and that's just within the public system! You can also go private, or home school your kids yourself.

You would think that having all those options would put my mind at ease -- but instead, it just adds new levels of pressure. It's like "Let's Make a Deal" - who's to say that the prize behind door #1 isn't better than what you got behind door #2?

Saturn RIP

I was saddened yesterday to learn that the deal General Motors struck with the Penske group to save their Saturn brand had fallen through, and so now will be phased out.

The first thing I did when I found out I was pregnant 14 years ago was tell my family.

The second thing I did was shop for a new car to replace the 11-year-old clunker I'd been driving. As we live in Los Angeles, we spend a lot of time in our vehicles, and I wanted my baby to be safe.

I couldn't afford my first choice Volvo, which has always enjoyed a reputation for safety... but as it turned out, the next best thing was in my price range: a 1996 Saturn SL1.

Safety was not the only thing I found appealing about Saturn: I loved the fact that shopping for one was as simple as buying a department store dress. The price on the sticker was the price you paid (what a concept!); no one ever asked you "What would it take to sell you this car today?"

I loved my Saturn's polymer body, which resisted dents so well that a decade later, the car still looked new. I loved the fact that maintenance on the vehicle was simple and cheap. I especially loved meeting other owners, one of whom was a tow-truck operator who purchased his Saturn after seeing how well they fared in crashes. 

What's So Scary About Socialized Medicine?

 My husband emigrated to the U.S. from Wales about 25 years ago. He loves just about everything about his adopted country -- but one thing he's never been able to get used to is our health "system," and I can't blame him. Health care is something he never had to worry about in the United Kingdom, thanks to that country's National Health Service.

I've visited the U.K. about a dozen times and have seen the NHS in action. On my first ever trip, BOTH of my husband's parents ended up being hospitalized (for different ailments), and as my late father-in-law fought heart disease and stroke for several years before he passed away, I got quite a tour of his city's hospitals on subsequent visits.

On one UK vacation, my young daughter (who was then prone to ear infections) came down with a fever. We walked in to the neighborhood surgery (the term for the offices of the system's primary care doctors). A doctor saw us right away, confirmed her infection and wrote us a prescription for an antibiotic. They did not care that Megan was American. My husband was prepared to show them proof of his British t's citizenship, but they did not ask. I had my wallet out to pay for the visit, but they told me to put it away. That's not how the office is set up.

A Lifetime of Memories

I'm having a bad case of the "elderlies."

I blame the media and the 24-hour news cycle. There isn't enough real news to fill the day, so they go looking through their archives for anniversary stories... and the last few weeks have featured a lot of them:

• The Moon Landing
• The Sharon Tate-LaBianca Murders (and subsequent arrest of the Manson family)
• Woodstock
• Beatles release "Abbey Road"

And let's not forget the actual news stories that launched a mountain range of remembrances: the deaths of Michael Jackson and Walter Cronkite.

All of these events occurred in 1969 - which was also a seminal year in my life, because I was then 13 (the same age my daughter is now), and newly aware of the world around me.

That was forty years ago. FORTY YEARS. That's a lifetime. I have friends who were not even born yet... no wonder I feel old.

Domestic Archaeology: When a Teenager Finally Cleans Her Room

My baby girl is now a young woman of 13; a fact I sometimes forget -- until she does something I find surprising. This has been occurring with some frequency since her birthday, a couple of months ago.

The first surprise was when she abruptly quit gymnastics, after spending nearly half her young life training so she could compete at the sport's higher levels. For six years, she trained 16-20 hours a week, on top of a 7-hour school day... PLUS homework.

So it's no wonder she eventually decided she wanted to experience a more normal lifestyle. She now has the opportunity to enjoy a social life. She also has time now for some basic household chores -- like cleaning her room, which after years of neglect, had evolved into a Category 5 disaster.

Letting Go - One Mall at a Time

My daughter was particularly excited when I picked her up from school on Wednesday... not least of all because her summer was finally going to start.

"My friends are all going shopping when school gets out on Friday. Can I go too?"

She gave me all the pertinent details: the names of the friends, the parent who would be driving them over to the mall, the parent who would be picking them up and the added information that the mom who is usually the toughest had already given her approval.

She's 13 now; definitely old enough to go to a local shopping center without me hanging around. I didn't see anything wrong with the plan --  in theory. Um, what was the name of that mall again?

"The Americana."

I'd never heard of it.