A Good Excuse is Hard to Find

Everywhere I am, I am distracted.

What with all the blogs to view, websites to visit, YouTube’s to watch, emails to answer, friends waiting on Face book for me to click on a fish, a crown or a Chinese New Year’s astrology symbol, I may finally catch up on the things people have wanted me to see, read, speak out for or against about, and to know…for the calendar year 1997.

Then, we add in the actual mail, the 400 plus channels on Dish, all the TV shows Tivo’ed that I haven’t watched, the one hour a day I’m supposed to exercise, the 2100 calories I’m supposed to consume in a pyramid fashion with only 15% coming from fats and the meditation/creative freeform thinking time advocated by most leading experts to prevent brain burn out and mental exhaustion, and I don’t know why I haven’t had a nervous collapse.

Today, I’m supposed to have signed six papers, read for 15 minutes with each child under the age of nine, supervised my two teens with an age appropriate parent/child bonding activity like cards or a video game and also made time for my husband and also for me. On my list of to do are five phone calls and three bills that also need my attention, a few loads of laundry and a basics grocery shop of the non negotiables, Milk, bread, diapers, chocolate, fruit and diet soda. The to-do list had already topped out at 18. I'm supposed to limit it to ten.

So when my beloved spouse asked me to be sure to feed the koi in the pool on a daily basis, I balked.

The problem is, at two weeks post-partum, I helped run a Fall Festival at my school, complete with an inflatable maze and roughly 600 people in attendance. It was a blast. However, I now have outed myself to my children. I can be organized. I can manage a large scale event. I can even, be on time.

As a result, when I say, “I don’t know if we can fit that into the schedule.” In response to a request for Karate or basketball or music lessons, there now exists a healthy level of skepticism. They’re not going to accept “We’re too busy to do that right now.” Not without a fight anyway.

Now, I’m searching for the Mommy Kryptonite excuse. It must be plausible enough for use to opt out of future obligations. So far, the few I've tried have been shot down hard.

“We can’t add gymnastics on Fridays because I’ve been asked to head up the peace negotiations for the Middle East and that will take at least three weeks worth of preparation. We’d miss a third of the classes.” "Mom," my six year old looked at me with a mixed expression of benevolence and incredulity, "We can have a carpool."

“I’m not going to the park because I have strict instructions from my doctor not to venture outdoors in temperatures below 65 degrees.” My smart toddlers looked at me, and parroted my own words. "Wear a coat."

“With the economy tanking, we’re saving all our pennies so we can buy a gallon of gas.” Here, my teens took me to task, noting that since August, the price of gasoline has dropped by more than a dollar, and that we'd save a lot more money if I stopped using the speed pass to get myself a diet coke and a twix bar every time we tanked up. Ouch.

My excuses failed splendidly, and then I thought of it, the kid silver bullet.

We can’t do it because, “Daddy said no.”

So I guess I'm feeding the fish regularly until further notice.

Book Em Friday...or Tuesday, 10 O'Clock

I love and trust my doctor, but I hate specialists.

They love having extra appointments. They love making rules that no children can come, and they love setting hours that prevent leaving kids with my supportive spouse unless he takes the day off.

Yesterday, I finally got a hold of the specialist reception office. They take off from 12 to 2 for lunch and the machine doesn’t take messages and close at 4, except on Monday, when they close at 3. The phones also aren’t answered before 9 am.

When I complained about the inflexibility of times available, the receptionist explained, if I had called last week, I could have found better times. I called last week. No one answered the phone, even though it was during business hours.

“What day was that?”
“Thursday.”

“That was our staff meeting day. We turn off the phones so as to not be interrupted.”

“…Okay, well, now when can I come in?”

“2:45 Tuesday.”

“That’s when school is out and I pick up my kids…”

“What time is good then?
“I can come on Monday, Wednesday or Friday between 10 and 12:30.”

“We have an opening at four on Thursday.”
“The times I gave where when I would only have to find a sitter for my infant. If I come at 4 on a Thursday, I would have to bring all seven younger children.”

I think she thought I was kidding because she then offered 3 o’clock on Tuesday and then five on Monday. I kept bringing up the problem of child supervision and she finally sighed and offered up noon on Thursday.

I’d have to bring three kids. Hardly ideal, but I took it.

“What is this test for anyway?”
“Stress.”
…

“Hello?”
“I’m stressed.”

“Pardon me?”
“Your schedule for my appointment. It’s stressing me out.”

“This isn’t about your stress levels.” She explained.
“Apparently.”

“This is about the stress experienced by the baby.” She soothed.
“But if Mom is stressed, you can bet baby is stressed.” I argued.
“You can book the next four appointments.” She wasn't moving.

And lucky me got 10:15 Thursday, a 2:00 Wednesday and a lovely 3:30 on a Friday. I’d be schlepping three to seven for each of these examinations…I hoped the little guy had low blood pressure because this would be scads of fun.

Looking at a blocky ugly crowded three weeks, I dutifully penciled the schedule into my calendar.

“You’re in luck.” The receptionist said, “For the fourth appointment, I can manage an 11:30 on a Wednesday.”

My need to win got the better of me and I refused to book the final appointment—“He’s due that week so I don’t think I’ll need one.”

“You could always cancel.”
“No. I don’t want to even have it on the schedule.”

“I think you’re being rather childish.”
“No, it’s just that I’m having a company meeting that week and won’t be able to take calls.” I hung up and sighed contently at the aparently unscheduled week.

I probably just earned a few years on hold in purgatory but I haven’t yet decided to be penitent.

P.S. If you're stuck on hold or stuck with a customer like me on the line, you could use a laugh so try Humor-Blogs.com!

Halloween Hangover

Some kids can eat one or two pieces of Halloween candy a day to stretch it out until Christmas. Other kids impulsively eat all the good stuff the first and second night and spend the next week grumbling as they fish through the dregs of their stash to find and tolerate non-descript toffees. For the second group of people, of which I am one, making November 1st a holiday is the equivalent of fall back day light savings time. We need it!

November 1st should always be a day off, in deference to parents and children alike. Both groups suffer from the toxic combination of excessive sugar, marathon like scheduling, back to back party festivities and lack of sleep on October 31st. Even my toddler has a whiff of stale air about her, like she’s spent the day in a bus station. Getting dressed in normal clothing seems anti-climactic. No amount of caffine or morning chocolate or orange juice can compete with the brain coma brought on by too many Twix bars and Goo Goo Clusters the night before. Moving heavy equipment or for that matter,operating simple machines remains possibly unsafe. Until such time as the November 1st vacation extention becomes universally accepted, here is a worthwhile alternative to consider.

Faced with the social pressures of a major kid holiday, the Johnsons from our old neighborhood showed true class and restraint, the likes of which I've never exhibited. It seems their four year old fell asleep around six on Halloween and could not be roused. Unfazed by this turn of events, they settled down for a relaxing evening dinner, punctuated only by parents juggling flashlights, costumes and shepherding groups of children for trick or treating.

November 1st arrived. Her daughter woke up refreshed and happy. “Are we going trick or treating?” She asked. “Tonight honey.” Her mom replied.

That evening, the Johnsons dressed up with their daughter and knocked on doors, explaining as they went. The neighborhood parents were only too happy to provide the kid with some treats from their own kids’ Halloween stash, and the idea of Halloween week was born. They became neighbors to know, having shown charm, humility and wisdom about Holidays, children and parenting all in a single blow.

Wonder what they do for Thanksgiving?