FREE THE CHRISTMAS CAROLS!

 For the past fifteen years or so, the local radio station has played 24-7 Christmas carols from November 15th on and my kids love it.   I have a love hate relationship with the station, because they seem intent every year on fixing a rotation that includes about 25 songs and 10 reserve rookies that they pull up durring off hours.   It means you will hear all 35 in the rotation in about three hours if there are no repeats.  Since there are always repeats, you will hear all 35 songs at least three times a day.   Bottom line, it will get old fast. 

My kids bought me an Alexa for my birthday last year, and I thought this would solve the problem, but Alexa has her own opinions about music and as much as you might ask for "We need a little Christmas" from That Christmas Feeling, you'll get the Glee version.  If you ask for Christmas music in general, you'll get the 35 rotation set.   Now I know, there are many more Christmas songs, good, bad, sappy, syrupy and great, modern and old, jazzed and country, choral and orchestral than get played by either Alexa or the station, but they're somehow locked away by the algorithms.   

I have a solution. I've become deliberate with Alexa and the radio station, making specific requests for songs that need more airtime.  I'm hoping hearing a human voice asking for human voices will get somewhere.  So far, I've found out you can irritate a robot and that no one is at the station taking our calls.  I'm not discouraged, I'm determined.   Singing acapella works for the Penatonix because they can sing.  Singing my favorites to Alexa might be what causes the eventaul A.I. uprising against the fleshy ones, but I'm determined to remind the powers that be that make decisions about what will and won't be heard that there are worse things to shatter the silence than songs by other than the pre-tested 35 selected chestnuts of the season, so that maybe when I call again, they'll pick up the phone.  

You Know it's Cold When....

Given the weather, I felt the need to vent in a safe warm place, hence prepare yourself for a rant against the cold.  

10) You know it's cold when...the temperature is not so high that it would be allowed into a PG-13 movie.   I'd like the air to at least be able to be carded, if not collecting social security.  

9) Given the choice between bringing up the trash cans --an easy one shot task twice a week, and doing the dinner dishes every night, there is a mad fight to take on K.P.

8) You notice that your car doesn't have heated seats.  

7) There is a deer living next to your van to avoid the wind.  

6) None of these are made up.  

5) Children ask for hot chocolate not because they want to drink it, but because they want to warm their hands while they still are wearing gloves.

4) Threats about driving until you find some place warm go so far as to google the closest place with 70 degree weather. (Hint: Brownsville is looking pretty good).  

3) You serve oatmeal. Several of the kids hate oatmeal.  No one complains because it's warm.

2) The stupid rallying cry of Olaf the snowman in Frozen, "Let's go save summer." sounds reasonable.

1) Describing how cold it is involves negative integers and no small amount of suppressed expletives.

Hints for Going to Sleep.

School starts in one week. I pointed out that we needed to get serious about sleeping.  I pointed out that  Bed time will be enforced.  Even worse, I will expect you to 1) actually sleep and 2) get up in the morning and 3) function. Reality is hard and it is coming in seven days.

But I love you and I'm sympathetic to your struggle to avoid the sandman at all cost, to enjoy every second of summer by cramming more wakeful minutes into each day.  Last night, I think there were two to three hours when someone wasn't up for some reason.  I'm starting to need daily naps to keep up with these people.

Enough is enough.  So I started to rant....

"It is clear that none of you believe R.E.M. time is necessary for continued mental health.  The past month I have sat outside your doors, read stories, said prayers, given huggies, kisses, sippy cups with ice water, brought in fans to keep you cool, change your blankets to make them softer, allowed for stuffed animals, classical music and extra pillows.  None of it has worked. 

So now we're in crunch time and I'm annoyed.
 
Welcome to sleep boot camp. I'm your drill sergeant mom and I'll be making sure you crumb crunching kiddies get your zzzzs!  Drop and give me 40 winks soldier!  For the next few days you will after dinner get showered, brush your teeth and present yourself clean and ready for bed duty within sixty minutes of clearing the table.  The lights will be turned off.  There will be no talking.  No switching of beds.  No last minute bathroom breaks, searches for books or requests for band-ades.  

From 9 to 6, you may not wander.  You may not sneak down to the Wii or computer or even read.  You may not turn on the lights. You may not go into your sister's room to turn on or off the music.  You may not have a pillow battle or get a midnight snack.  You may not get your cute toddler sister a midnight snack.  No nightmares.  No I'm cold. No I'm hot.  No I can't sleep.  If you aren't sleeping, let me tell you what I want you do to and I want you to do it, to do it every night, and to do it without informing me that you are doing it.  If you can't sleep and you've tried everything, there's only one thing I want you to do. 

And that one thing is:  Fake it.

That's right.  I want you to lie there, bored, in bed, lights off, mouth shut, breathing.  That's it. That's all.  That's final.

Rest.  Rest all night.  Trust that I really do know what I'm doing when I tell you it's bed time and that you'll feel better tomorrow for it. So Prayers. Love you. Good night. Sweet dreams and See you in the morning!" 

It was a beautiful rant and it might have even worked except the baby woke up and started crying. 

Bad Fairy Tales, or Why I Don't Like Wonderpets, Dora, SuperReaders, Sid the Science Kid, Go Diego or Team Umizoomie

First, a caveat : I grew up devouring the Brother's Grim, Greek Myths and every fairy tale I could find.  I loved them and reread them regularly.  While I never thought, "Some day my prince will come..." I did believe that love can last forever and still do.   It's part of being Catholic I think.  The forever after is real and it involves blood and time and fierce courage; it doesn't mean love is always sugar spun and sparkly and effort free, it means the exact opposite, that love stays when life isn't spic and span, timely or without enormous hassle, struggling, suffering and utter frustration; that no matter what, true love stays with you. 

Having fairy tales was part of the magic of childhood, and like myths, they revealed truths without being true; that growing up involves a journey that is fraught with difficulties and requires tenacity; that love requires sacrifice and does bring a joy that the struggle did not and even mitigates some of the past pain and struggles that the hero or heroine might have endured.

These days, with toddlers, I am subjected to a lot of little kid shows when the laundry is piled high. 

These new stories are determined to rewrite fairy tales not only to shed all stereotypes but to eliminate any villains.   At first, I watched it, annoyed but oddly curious as to how some stories which require a nemesis, would be orchestrated to ensure no one did anything for a mean or spiteful reason, or heaven forbid, wrong.  Saying, "Swiper no swiping" wouldn't stop the Jack of the Beanstalk from taking the golden goose, nor would "Teamwork" from the Wonderpets or seven dwarfs prevent the evil queen from poisoning Snow White. Creating an imagination where the wolves only want the cookies or are sad because they have allergies that cause them to knock down houses isn't an improvement over the prior imaginary landscape.

Upon further viewing, I discovered that the protagonists needn't be in any way brave or heroic or plucky; only empathetic. They all have magic bags of holding, backpacks or rescue packs or what have you, that carry everything they might need, so no resourcefulness is needed.  So I wondered what lessons these "educational television" shows were teaching; always have all the resources to begin a journey so everything will work out? How were these tales anything other than "Once there were some kids/animals.  They got stuck.  Others showed up with supplies and everything worked out fine with dancing and a party at the end." The answers are all provided in simple one, two, three step parts; so the journey is a mere procedure to follow, not a task of self discovery and the "shes" in these stories are no more empowered than their helpless traditional counterparts, they only know the psychobabble necessary to discover that these dangers and difficulties were never dangerous or difficult in the first place. 

I'm not sure this massive rewrite of every fairy tale ever written to ensure a sanitized for your protection perfect conflict resolution and danger free world is any less a fantasy than the damsels locked in towers.   It's the satire of A Street Car Named Desire by Matt Groening made real, where a stranger is just a friend you haven't met. Further, to me, teaching children they need no courage in the real world to endure any pain and that even trials aren't really trials, is as big a fantasy as waiting for someone to come to the rescue.  If every show were written by the players of Pyramus and Thisbe in A Midsummer's Night Dream, you might again come up with these content calorie free confections, but they'd lack the sense to congratulate themselves at the end of the non journey.  Upon reflection, that lack of a celebration for the reaffirmation of self esteem for a trial not endured, a burden not carried, a struggle not fraught with meaning, might be an improvement.  They can sing "Congratulations" all day long for creating children's programing that is the equivalent of mental white wonder bread; I'll take my fairy tales with the fangs and the spells and the dark forests and deeper overtones and presume the kids also pay attention to real life and see that all that is, all that has any meaning, and all relationships that have meaning involve time, love, service and sacrifice. 

So today, I pulled out the Ugly Duckling and read it to my kids; for I do believe we are all these sorts, who struggle and suffer and engage in self pity, who endure pain and loneliness and crave acceptance and uniqueness at the same time.   I also believe those things happen in real life and knowing that one can come out of those moments stronger and more beautiful than we could possibly imagine, isn't a fairy tale; it's the way we can come to live happily ever after.

Am I Being Paranoid or is this just Christmas in DC?

Is it just me, or are the attacks on Christmas are getting more sophisticated?

At first, they were obvious. "Happy Holidays and Season's Greetings!" and the forever annoying "Xmas." No other word in the world has been substituted with a single letter for fear of offending someone's non religious sensibilities. The removal of the Christmas scenes from public square or equally desperate and inappropriate hijacking of Haunaka to make all those December religious observances the same, came next. People finally got wise and got mad when the stands by the street said, "Holiday Trees."

This year, "Merry Christmas" is back...as a gesture of good will to those practicing people who spend money. The trappings of the season festoon the malls. But the color scheme has changed.

Torn between the very real desire to have everyone mark this occasion of December 25th with a massive credit card induced hangover in January, and the fervent wish to disavow any genuine reason to be celebrating, marketers have hit upon the new guaranteed inoffensive means to deck the halls while still avoiding irritation of that atheist that lurks just around the block.

Blue and white pentagrams and lots and lots of just faint blue lights.

They're up all over town, stars that aren't religious or iconic in nature, in colors not traditionally associated with the Christmas tradition as practiced by non practicing people everywhere. The municipalities can breathe a sigh of relief, as the ACLU will not be scrutinizing them for putting up "Winter Lights."

If we complain, they'll be able to say there's no substance, no there....there.

But I say, two can play at that game. Let's hijack the secularists attempts to take over December with this blue light special. Let's ascribe religious symbolic qualities to those lights, which after all remind us of both Mary's mantle and the colors of the flag of Israel. The lights remind us of the Holy land and in this Holy season, call us all to prayer. It will annoy those who secretly root for the unreformed Grinch immensely. We could really tick them off if we publicly announce we will be reminded to pray each time we see those Winter lights.

Let's greet others with "Have a Blessed Christmas" and "Happy Advent!" until December 24th, when we can say "Enjoy a Holy Christmas Eve." If we say "Merry Christmas" with enough reverence, we will bother them because we haven't shut up and gone away to let them drink their eggnog in the bitter peace born of being surrounded with people afraid to disagree.

So Deck the Halls in that Blue and White if you wish, just tell everyone the reason. And God bless us everyone, The Lord knows we need it.

P.S. Hoping I haven't danced too close to the near occasion of sin by this post. Happy Advent!

Having a Youtube Moment

First, a disclaimer: I don't watch Youtube.

I know what you're thinking: You lie.

No. I really don't. My computer still putts around on dial up, so unless I want to experience processing information in real time as if I have ADHD, I'm not going to link onto any video type material, no matter who sends it to me.

It's not that I've never seen Youtube. I've been at a friend's house and seen the One Semester of Spanish Spanish Love song --a great humor short if you've never seen it. I've driven home my kids friends and heard about Chad Vader in the Grocery store, and about the puppet versions of Harry Potter singing about Severus Snape.

My main problem with Youtube is the absence of a filter to prevent personal public assassination of an individual in the name of showmanship, put downs, cruelty, smugness, immaturity and indifference to causing humiliation. That, and having dial up, I can't see any of it.

You're thinking...so switch to broadband, cable, wireless, there are ways.

But you see, I know myself well enough to remember, I yell at phone service people who are indifferent to my pain. Appliance man, this means you.

I have been known to roll down my car window when someone took the parking place reserved for new mothers and pregnant women. As the guy sprinted towards the Radio Shack, I yelled "That's Funny, You don't look pregnant!"

Caught at the wrong moment --say during dinner time, after I've been on hold for fifteen minutes, or when pressed and stressed, I can be, and I'm sorry if my mother is reading this, rude.

As Youtube becomes more ubiquitous than it already is, I predict an increase in the percentage of women dressing up and wearing professional type makeup, as daily footage of our everyday becomes more and more posted on the internet. Maybe I should start dying my hair or at least brushing it. If' I'm caught today on TV, Mom will be calling. "Why didn't you at least get a haircut before you went off?"

"I was at the hair dresser's."
"Well, put on some lipstick if you're going to talk like that. It's Clinique bonus time, go in and get a pack."

The reason for all of this, is that in our area, a woman lost her temper and made an ill advised return phone call to a high school senior that had called her home to nag about a snow day. Her husband was/is superintendant of Fairfax schools. That rant in its ugly entirety has even been run on CNN.

While public humiliation is not exactly the modern day equivalent of feeding the Christians to the Lions, it is a public blood sport. People watch and participate in the feeding frenzy because it seems there's nothing wrong with a good public excoriation of another, as long as it appears that the person was deserving of such treatment. No one thinks they'd want to live in a society where scarlet letters are sewn on people's shirts, but having a trail of websites that reveal any and all past discrepancies and personal failures is pretty much the same thing.

What is never asked, is if that treatment was warranted, and that is because the answer would almost always be "No." And then if it were asked, People would shrug their shoulders and say "What can we do?"

We are going to have to as a society learn to manage our "God's Eye" viewpoint that can turn the most intimate and private of conversations into one of the most popularly downloaded clips of the day. We are going to have to remember that at any moment, we could be the one on candid camera, not just in syndication, but forever available, to us and our posterity. What we can do, is not watch. What we can do, is decide before we post, email, film or depict, would we want this done to us?

In the meantime, I'm going to buy some whitening toothpaste and some conditioner. If I'm going to be made infamous for my flaws, I want to look good for Mom.

P.S. and as if to punctuate this slightly serious post, I just discovered my daughter. Apparently, she tried on all the pull-ups to find the one she wanted while I was typing. There are thirteen discarded ones in the bathroom. On Youtube today...