Wow, am I ever grumpy this morning. Is there a reason for it? No, not really. I mean, I can PINPOINT some grumpy-making things, if you want to know:
The weekend was full and social and overall went really well, but I feel like I got NO TIME to myself at all, and I need time to myself or I will LOSE MY MIND.
One of the weekend activities was a volunteer event I co-led, and even though it went pretty smoothly a) I find stuff that involves the combination of logistics, other people, and socializing to be overwhelming and exhausting and b) there was a little hitch in the day that resulted in some adults acting like CHILDREN and while I am trying very hard to have compassion and see things from their side, the whole thing still makes me grumpy. I think in most cases we are all just doing our best, and humans make mistakes and fumble things awkwardly and we can either have a tantrum or we can give other people grace. Reminder to self: GIVE OTHER PEOPLE GRACE. (She says, as she has a mini tantrum on her blog.)
My to-do list has too many things on it.
Some of the things on my to-do list are FORMS and I hate forms and there are too many and a lot of them are stupid and yes, I know The State requires certain things for certain occasions and I will fill them out but that doesn’t make them less stupid or irritating.
I cannot find frozen cherries ANYWHERE.
The effing ROBIN will NOT LEAVE MY WINDOW ALONE and I am not going to resort to bird murder, I promise, but I am THINKING ABOUT HOW SATISFYING IT WOULD BE.
I’m sure there are other things, but those are the grumps that are currently top of mind.
Oh right.
7. I also have to plan dinners for the week and I don’t wanna.
The good news dinner-wise is that one of Carla’s activities has ended for the year, which means (I think?) that we can cut back to eating fast food only one night per week. Of course, it will mean an extra hour in the car that day, but it may be a good trade off. (That is how sick I am of fast food.)
Dinners for the Week of May 6-May 12
Chicken and Broccoli Stir Fry: I have broccoli, I have chicken, I have mushrooms. I have no particular desire for this dish, but it will be fine.
Cauliflower Tzatzki Bowls with Sweet Potato Fries: I don’t know if I have enough motivation to make sweet potato fries AND an avocado cucumber slaw (does that combination of foods sound appetizing? I’m not sure), but I could certainly make the cauliflower. Wait a second, am I talking myself out of this? I’m leaving it on the list anyway. Maybe it will sound better later, and if not, I can surely find many ways to make due with cauliflower and sweet potatoes.
Chickpea Bowls: Yes, this sounds good. I will make a chicken breast for my husband to add to his chickpeas.
Fish Taco Bowls: Is this too many “bowl” meals for one week? Maybe, but who cares. There’s no law.
Sheet Pan Chicken Fajitas: We haven’t had fajitas in awhile. Let’s fix that. Even though the idea of chopping so many vegetables is not particularly appealing. Oh well.
All right internet. That’s all I have for you. Instead of doing anything at all on my to-do list, I am going to go try to sweat out some of my grumps with this full-body strength video. To be fair, I do have two loads of laundry doing their thing, so at least one item on my to-do list is In Process.
What to-dos are you avoiding today? Any grumps to share? How was your weekend?
Through a combination of targeted approaches over the past six months, I feel like I have effectively reduced my overall anxiety level. I notice some anxieties no longer really bother me at all – they only linger in expectation form, like a phantom anxiety that I expect to bubble up but never does. (Perhaps this is a brand NEW anxiety, although it doesn’t ACT like anxiety.)
Other anxieties remain. I think it is impossible to live a life 100% free from anxiety; even the most laid-back people in my life, after all, have their Things. But sometimes the things I stress about are so SILLY, worrying about them seems completely inexplicable… and yet I cannot stop bumping up against them, like a ring I twist unconsciously on my finger or a mosquito bite I can’t help but scratch.
I am going to share the current mosquito bite with you, in hopes that a) putting it into words acts as a sort of soothing salve and b) I am not the only person who angsts over things that are ridiculous yet nonetheless persistently irritating. Please. Please. Tell me all the ridiculous things that keep you awake at night.
A bunch of my loved ones are gathering to celebrate A Momentous Occasion and I cannot join them. Out of some sort of mishmash of FOMO and Wanting To Show I Care, I suggested to the host that maybe I could supply breakfast for one morning when everyone is together.
The host responded with positivity and gratitude. Yes, my overture would be welcome and appreciated.
Almost immediately, I regretted giving in to this generous impulse. Because I am NOT GOOD AT THIS KIND OF THING. This is a task that requires phone calls and guessing what other people might want in terms of quantity and flavor. This is a task that requires, possibly, using DoorDash or UberEats or one of the many food delivery services I have never once used in my life. This is a task that requires evaluating, based on online information, whether a caterer/restaurant/café is going to provide good food and good value.
The Occasion is taking place in a state I have never visited. Everyone is staying in an Air BnB together. It seemed, in my head, like it would be fairly easy to order donuts or bagels or breakfast sandwiches for everyone to be delivered to the house. But I was wrong!
My first thought was to use Goldbelly to order something. I’ve used Goldbelly for various food gifts in the past, and it always seems to work out. (Unless my parents and sibling are shielding me from the awful truth…) But a) I couldn’t find what I wanted for under $250, which was more than I intended to spend, and b) my husband thought I was a huge weirdo for choosing that option when I could just order from someplace local.
Oh. Okay. Right.
So I researched some local places. Is it reasonable to put all my faith in online reviews and personal reaction to company websites???? Reasonable or not, that is where I put my faith.
The first place I called took a message and never returned my call. When I called back, they said they were in the middle of a busy period and could I call back later. The second place I called rang and rang and rang. The third place I called was an on-site caterer, and they apparently only cater to their specific site. The first place, which I called a third time, once again took my information and never called me back.
I decided I would order from Panera, which has a simple online order form and would deliver the food for me. And also, Panera isn’t, like, special or anything, but it’s decent. However, I mentioned this plan to someone whose opinion I trust. The response was an instantaneous and very firm, “Don’t do that,” and a quick google search to locate a fourth place (well, fifth, if you count Panera, which I am not counting so I’m not sure why I’m typing this parenthetical) for me to call.
If I could have had this friend call the fourth place for me and place the order, I would have. I was Done, Dee Oh En Ee, with this task, except I wasn’t because the only thing worse than calling yet another breakfast place was telling the host I was reneging on my offer. Don’t think I didn’t strongly consider it.
The fourth place answered the phone! They could put together a breakfast that sounded good! And they could deliver! They quoted me a price, although they “didn’t have the price sheet in front of them, so they were just estimating” and I said let’s do this.
I emailed the host of The Occasion and let her know what I was planning, and confirmed the correct date and time and location. She responded with a thumbs up. (Not a literal or emojical thumbs-up, but with an affirmation that I was doing something that worked with her plans.)
It seems to me that Other People have no problem with tasks like this. Either they would call Panera from the get-go, or they would quickly and easily find the exact perfect place to order breakfast from and order breakfast from that place, or they would tell the host “sorry, it’s not working out, can I contribute another way,” or they wouldn’t offer to provide breakfast in the first place, like a chump. So part of the anxiety stems from feeling like I am making a big messy ordeal out of something that should be SIMPLE and STRAIGHTFORWARD. And the other part of the anxiety stems from fear that I am going to fuck it up somehow.
Today, the fourth place called me and took my credit card information. The price they charged me was quite a bit higher than the quote, but at that point, what could I do? I was already locked in. The date of The Occasion is too near to go back to the drawing board, and I am too worn out from calling all these places and thinking about this for WEEKS to contemplate doing anything else.
And now I am waiting, very anxiously, hoping that the delivery goes as planned, and the food I ordered is good, and that I ordered ENOUGH FOOD, I am not even going to TELL YOU how much I ordered or for how many people because I am so stressed about it and so worried you will say OMG SUZANNE THAT IS WAY TOO MUCH/TOO LITTLE FOOD.
I even texted a family member who will be in attendance at this Occasion, and let her know that I’d placed the order and it was all set to be delivered at a specific time and directed to the host… even though this family member did not ask for this information, or volunteer to help in any way, and I do not want to make her feel like it’s now, somehow, HER responsibility.
Also: let me be clear. I fully realize this is not about me. The Occasion is… A Momentous Occasion for my loved one, and there is a whole big to-do going on that has nothing to do with my measly breakfast contribution, and a crappy breakfast is not going to make or break an entire long weekend of celebrating. I GET THIS. My brain understands. But my body is not on board! It is all riled up. The My Breakfast Contribution aspect of The Occasion is all I can think about! What if the food is terrible? What if it feeds only half of the guests? What if everyone gets food poisoning?! (Food poisoning could break a weekend, I suppose.) Why am I worrying about such a small slice of the overall pie of The Occasion? WHY?????? Whatever it is, it will be a blip at most. (Unless food poisoning.) (Please, God, let there be no food poisoning.)
My husband says, “It’s the thought that counts.” And. Well. Sort of? But also… I don’t want to be The Person Who Sent Shitty Breakfast (or diarrhea, which is an entirely different kind of shitty breakfast).
I should have just kept my dumb mouth shut! I should never have offered to do anything! I should have simply offered to send cash to help fund An Event!
This is the kind of thing that is itching and ITCHING and I cannot scratch it. I want to moan about it to my husband. I want to text about it to my friends. I want to call the host of The Occasion and triple check that I got all the details right and get her to tell me that it won’t even matter if it’s crap because everyone will be drunk on mimosas, or have her tell me that a third of the guests suddenly can’t make it, or have her assure me that there’s tons of other food in the house just in case I didn’t order the right amount (HOW DO YOU KNOW WHAT AMOUNT TO ORDER OMG). I want to call my family member who will be on site and ask her to text me photos. I want to FLY TO THE STATE AND BE AT THE OCCASION AND HANDLE THE WHOLE THING IN PERSON OMG.
At least The Occasion will be over soon and I will no longer be troubled by the possibilities; I will know the outcome (because you know I am going to pester my family member until I get a report), and hopefully the reaction will fall somewhere in the range of “meh, that was okay” to “well, that was a pleasant little breakfast spread!”
At the very least, I hope no one thinks, “Wow, we should have just gone to Panera.”
I know it’s such a cliché, but WHERE DOES THE TIME GO? This week marks the beginning of May. MAY, people. May is going to be utter mayhem, that’s for sure, and I am already bracing for impact. Carla has so much going on. Three performances, a school presentation, a school trip, a fifth grade “graduation” ceremony, TWO class parties. On top of all the normal day-to-day chaos, of course, with three extracurricular activities that each meet twice weekly. And then BAM!, it will be summer break.
I tried to plan this summer so that it would be easier than last summer. Last summer, of course, we both bought and sold a house, so at least we won’t be dealing with THAT nonsense again. But I think we also over-scheduled Carla last summer. She had summer camp, plus she continued her music lessons through summer. That doesn’t sound like a lot, but I felt like we were constantly on the go – like there was no “break” from the busy schedule of the school year.
This summer, I want time to relax by the pool and have friends over. But… Carla still wants to do summer camp. I am FULLY in favor of camp. While it sounds restful and decadent to spend the summer doing nothing by the pool, I feel like our days would end up being filled by a lot of screen time. And how many playdates can I really handle? Not enough to give Carla the same kind of social interaction she’ll get at summer camp, that’s for sure. So. Summer camp it is.
Okay, so summer camp by itself still gives us evenings and weekends to play and relax. But… Carla is considering trying out a new sport and maybe a new musical instrument. On top of that, we have two other commitments that will take place weekly after camp. Ugh. Now summer is sounding just as hectic as the school year!
Maybe this is simply a busy season of our lives and I should learn to lean into it, instead of trying to force things to slow down? (Note: I realize that, once again, these are the Champagnest of “problems.”)
One thing that’s always constant: the need to plan and prepare meals. Once again, we’ll have two nights of takeout. I am ready to be done with THAT aspect of this school year. Takeout is fantastic once in awhile, but I am weary of it by now. And the annoying thing is, no matter how much I try to pack my day with nutrient dense foods, by the time dinner rolls around, I am so ravenous I scarf down a bunch of fries or chips. I love fries and chips, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t want or need to be eating them twice weekly. Well. Just a few more weeks of this nonsense left.
(You may be thinking, Suzanne, simply DON’T ORDER the fries or chips. And yet… I find this hard to do??? When it comes down to it, I am extremely picky. My child, also extremely picky, only has two or three places where she will deign to eat on these takeout nights. And there are only a few options at each of them that I can stand to eat. Plus, I have a lifelong resistance to paying good money for food I don’t like. If I’m going to spend extra money on takeout, I am going to enjoy it, dammit. So. Loading up on fries and chips. I am my own worst enemy, etc.)
I DO have control over what I can make at home, though! So I will try to compensate for the takeout with some protein and veggie packed meals.
Caesar Chicken with Salad: I cannot for the life of me remember where I saw this idea, but it sounds easy enough: marinate some chicken in Caesar salad dressing and roast with a little parmesan sprinkled on. Pair it with a salad. My only question is whether I dress the salad with the Caesar dressing? Or go for a light vinaigrette instead???? I don’t want to over-Caesar myself.
Baked Pork Chops and Zucchini: Another sheet pan meal! This recipe calls for asparagus, but I already have some zucchini on hand, so I will probably use that instead.
Golden Cauliflower Chickpea Bowls: These sound so nourishing right now. I bet my husband will want a chicken breast alongside his, and maybe I will add a salmon filet. We’ll see. I wonder if I could coax Carla into eating this? She likes crispy chickpeas…
What are you eating, these last few days of April? How’s your summer shaping up?
Spring is arriving in fits and starts around here. I was very glad that my furnace was back up and running this weekend, with temperatures in the mid forties.
But I know summer will be here before we know it. Already, I have that buzzing-beneath-the-skin feeling of anxiety and anticipation that accompanies the end of the school year and the shift to a new season.
It’s a call week, so we are going for delicious and simple. Except for the night we have salad; that is a bunch of steps. But it’s worth it.
Dinners for the Week of April 22-April 28
Honey Chipotle Chicken Bowls: Even though I normally skip this step, I plan to make quinoa; I’m not going to make the cilantro lime quinoa from the recipe, though, instead opting for crispy quinoa. Yum.
Chicken Paprikas: I am sure it’s the chilly weather, but I’m really in the mood for this creamy, hearty stew-like concoction over buttery noodles.
Crockpot Pulled Pork with Coleslaw: Easiest ever recipe: pork tenderloin in the crockpot with a chopped up onion and some minced garlic. Slather in barbeque sauce and a drizzle of sriracha. Heat on low for eight hours; shred and serve. I like my shredded pork on top of a baked potato. My husband prefers his on a roll with coleslaw.
Tacos: We haven’t had tacos in a minute, so let’s throw them on the menu.
That’s it for today, internet. Happy Pesach to all who celebrate.
This post began as a Five for Friday, but I got no further on that than bullet points to remind me what to write about. Then I got it mostly written at the car dealership yesterday morning, but never got to post it. So! Seven for Sunday it is.
I Don’t Know Where My Soul Is, I Don’t Know Where My Home Is: Remember when I was complaining about the robin (or robins, I suppose?) who has been flinging himself into my office window all spring? Well, the solution I decided on was… waiting him out. Which has not worked very well, I am sure you are shocked to learn.
This is my view from the comfy chair I sit in, instead of sitting at my perfectly good desk. I can see the bird in the reflection of the painting.
I started out feeling bad for this bird, being driven by biology to slam his body into glass at regular intervals. And I know he’s not doing it with the purpose of bothering me; he doesn’t care about me. But I feel like even a robin should be capable of learning to identify a futile action, no? He taps at the glass aggressively with his beak, he flaps his wings at the glass, he has never once encountered another bird. Like, at least shouldn’t he be able to determine, inside his little birdy brain, that the mysterious bird threat he keeps spotting is secured behind a transparent forcefield? Or shouldn’t he have figured out by now that his attacks are usually followed by me shaking the blinds at him, which must be startling, at the very least, because it does get him to fly away?
Also, there is bird poop on my office windowpanes now.
It is starting to feel very Edgar Allen Poe-ian over here, where I am now trying to figure out what the bird and his repeated appeals for my attention are telling me. What does it all MEAN?
My daughter had the idea to set up her stuffed hawk on top of the blinds, but that did absolutely nothing. If anything, now the bird feels as though there’s A Real Threat encroaching on his territory. So my daughter added a stuffed tiger to the top of the blinds, which has had zero effect. I don’t think midwestern robins have any clue what a tiger is, to be honest, not to mention IT’S A STUFFIE.
Sentinel hawk, reporting for the night watch. My chair has seen better days.
Anyway, my husband has decided enough is enough and we’re going to explore some of the very reasonable options you all shared with me last time. Perhaps the robin isn’t the only creature slow to learn that doing the same thing over and over will not result in a different outcome.
Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough: I am Very Late to the Cool Bloggers Walking Club party, but I have serious FOMO. Plus, I do want to walk every day, and having this extra little motivation can only help. While I am not opposed to walking on the treadmill, I prefer to walk outside. And my new neighborhood is full of fun things to see on walks.
A couple of weeks back seemed to be prime egg-laying season for the geese, and for a moment it felt like there were eggs EVERYWHERE. I can’t tell if geese were of the I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant ilk, dropping offspring in the goose equivalent of the grocery store parking lot, or if the eggs had been diverted from their nests by foxes/hawks/squirrels, but it was kind of an odd experience to be walking along and then come upon an egg.
I have also seen a teensy little snake and a turtle.
The snake was very small, maybe four to six inches long. And the turtle was not interested in being photographed, and tucked her head into her shell the instant I pulled out my phone.
Tossed Salad and Scrambled Eggs: Speaking of Elisabeth, in addition to inspiring more regular walking, she has also inspired me to revisit one of my favorite series: Frasier. I started it on the treadmill earlier this week and it is such a delight. I hazard to say that the Frasier pilot is one of the most perfect pilot episodes of all time.
The only thing I dislike about Frasier is that the title character is supposed to be 41. (Incidentally, Kelsey Grammer was only 38 when he filmed the pilot.) Considering that I am FORTY THREE, I find it a little horrifying to see myself as part of Frasier’s cohort. He’s much more… mature than I am, that’s for sure.
I refuse to accept that this man is younger than I am by FIVE YEARS.
You Change Your Mind Like a Girl Changes Clothes: As of Thursday, our furnace and air conditioner have been repaired! And neither of them needed to be replaced! It did take a while, though, and I have a renewed irritation with our HVAC company’s communications system. It is STUPID. This is a very long and boring segment, FYI. If you want to skip it, rest assured that you have gleaned the key theme already, which is “It is STUPID.”
To contact the HVAC company, you call a central number and speak to a customer service person. (And by the way, they have a ridiculous scripted answer to their phone calls, something along the lines of, “How can I make your day great?” that sounds so dumb and disingenuous and also, like, fixing my A/C will most definitely make my day better, but nothing you can do, HVAC CS Agent, will make my day great.) You tell the agent why you’re calling. If you want an appointment, they put in a request for an appointment, and then a dispatcher calls you back and sets up the appointment. There is no way to directly schedule an appointment, or to talk directly to the technician who will complete the service/repair. There is no way to get directly to a dispatcher. If you miss the dispatcher’s return call, because you called during the one free period in your day, and they call back when you are in a meeting, you have to call the customer service agent again, and they leave a message for the dispatcher, and the whole phone tag thing starts all over. IT IS SO STUPID. Why is their system like this????
I got my initial appointment last Monday. After waiting ALL DAY, two people (a technician and a site manage) arrived to examine the air conditioner. My wonderful father was able to come to my house so I could go pick up Carla from school, because of course the HVAC people showed up right as I was pulling out of my garage. They determined what was wrong with the A/C and furnace (a rodent had chewed through the wiring to the intake valve, which prevented both appliances from working) (FRICKING RODENTS), and found an additional issue with the A/C (needed a new contactor, not that I know what that is; my dad seemed to think it was legit), and said they didn’t have the part on the truck but had it in the warehouse, so they would be back the next day. Except they couldn’t tell me when they could come back, or even if they would be the technicians to return: I had to call first thing the next morning and get an appointment.
When I called the next morning, the customer service person said he could see that the part was in stock and that I was on the schedule for that day, I just needed to wait for dispatch to call me to confirm a time. No one called all day, so I called back and spoke to a different customer service agent. It turns out there was a hold on my appointment, which a completely different customer service agent said she suspected was because maybe the part wasn’t available? I told her that the technician had said it was, and the customer service agent I’d spoken to that morning said it was, and she said, “Well, did you confirm that it was really in stock?” Um. NO? How would I do that beyond talking to people who would supposedly know the answer?
Anyway. I told her I was unavailable the next day, but would be available Thursday morning. She said she would put a note in my file to have the work scheduled for Thursday and have dispatch call me on Wednesday. I said I would be in and out of meetings and wouldn’t be able to take the dispatcher’s call if they called while I was in a meeting. I asked if I could get a direct number for the dispatcher, so I didn’t have to do the customer service step. Nope. But! She could have the dispatcher text me, so I could communicate with her directly. Great.
No one called or texted me on Wednesday. In between meetings, I called the central number and went through the whole customer service, wait for a dispatcher to call back rigamarole. When I finally connected with the dispatcher, she said I was on the schedule for later that day! Well, as I told the customer service person yesterday, I was not available later that day (there was an event at Carla’s school). Finally she was able to get me scheduled for the first appointment on Thursday. Which turned out to begin at nearly noon, and the guy was not finished before my two o’clock meeting so I left him a tip and a notepad while I went to my meeting (fortunately, it was on Zoom) and he finished up and wrote me a very thorough report before he left.
We were very fortunate that it was pretty cool all week. I am not going to lie: I woke up every night in a puddle of sweat, but the thermostat read only 75, so that may be more of a perimenopause thing than an HVAC issue. Hard to say. And now, everything is FIXED, even if the company’s system is BROKEN.
It’s All One World in Which We Live, So Understand and Try to Give: It’s a teeny bit early for me to be thinking about teacher gifts for the end of the school year, but I have two reasons for thinking about them already.
Usually I give money to our class parent, who puts it toward a gift card for our teachers. But this year, Carla’s teacher has been so involved in her life, I want to do something special. The obvious gift is a Stanley, right? I feel like it will so perfectly encapsulate this teacher’s experience of teaching fifth grade this year. And we can personalize it. So now I have to decide if I personalize it with her name (probably her last name, right? That way she can bring it to school without all the kids calling her by her first name, or she can give it to her own kid if she wants nothing to do with it) or with some sort of phrase that makes her think about this year/this class/my kid. I will probably go with her surname, but I WANT to be the kind of person who comes up with some meaningful quote that will make her heart swell every time she uses the Stanley. Anyway, this is why I am thinking about it NOW; I need time to order it and have it arrive.
The other reason I am thinking about gifts is that I have somehow “volunteered” to be the person in charge of an end-of-year celebration for one of Carla’s extracurriculars. There are two instructors who lead this program, and I want to get them each the same thing (with, perhaps, variation in color). My mind went immediately to Stanleys, but Carla reported that one of the other kids in this extracurricular told her with great authority that one of the instructors HATES STANLEYS. Which I get. So. Stanleys are out. But that leaves… what???? I don’t want to do gift cards for Reasons, but I am not sure what a good alternative would be. And I’m running out of time, because this program ends at the beginning of May. (Lest you think I have been procrastinating, I was just wrangled into this role last week.)
A Bushy Bushy Blonde Hairdo: It is once again the time of year when I begin gently stressing about Carla’s birthday party. We already have the Big Gift planned: as I mentioned/fretted about before, I have scheduled an appointment for her to get her ears pierced. Her pediatrician will be doing the ear piercing, as I figure it would behoove me to be in a medical establishment just in case I pass out from seeing someone create dual apertures in my child.
Since Carla’s birthday is on a Saturday, and since we are planning on a pool party, I figured I would schedule her ear piercing for the following week. (It probably isn’t IMPOSSIBLE to go swimming after you get your ears pierced, but it is a complication I don’t want to deal with. Plus, this way, Carla can back out if she decides being hole-punched is not as good an idea as she originally thought.) Swistle mentioned this ear piercing aftercare spray, and I think I will get a bottle of it, wrap it up nicely, and that will be how she learns about this present.
Anyway! Party! I asked Carla what the theme of her party should be, and/or what color she wanted her cake, and after some thought she said, in Ken-style deadpan, “My theme is just beach.” So. That seems both easy to interpret in a bunch of different directions and too vague, but I am going to run with it. Maybe the kids will get beach balls as their favor? (I would do towels, but one of Carla’s friends gives out towels as a birthday favor and Carla doesn’t want to copy.) Or sunglasses? Flip flops? Although that might be tricky, without knowing each kid’s shoe size. I want it to be a summery, beach-adjacent gift that isn’t too expensive and can be used even without access to a pool/beach.
The food will be a taco bar. I think I may need to borrow crockpots from a couple of friends, so I can have ground beef and shredded chicken and black beans. But tacos seem like a pretty safe bet – or, at least as safe as pizza, which neither Carla nor her best friend will eat, and which is the standard Birthday Party Meal around these parts.
The lifeguard has been secured, and she will bring her own life-saving equipment. I just need to provide a chair. A rather big issue to solve will be what to do in case of rain. I could have a dozen children in my basement, but I would rather not. That’s probably what will happen, though.
Now that the big things have been decided, I can turn my attention to cupcakes. Carla requested a color scheme of blue and tan, which… well, I will feel free to jazz that combo up with additional colors. She also mentioned wanting either an umbrella or flip flops on her cupcakes. These cupcakes look a little fussy to make, but very cute. These beach cupcakes look much simpler, and are also very cute. I could always get some flip flop cupcake toppers to add on.
Target has cute beach-themed dinnerware. I think this could be a lot of fun. Especially because no real sand will be involved.
I’ve Given You Sunshine, I’ve Given You Dirt: Yesterday included a sports event (Carla’s), a visit to the car dealership (my windshield wiper fluid should no longer leak!), a playdate at our house (also Carla’s), a bunch of laundry (2/5 loads have been washed and dried, 0/5 have been folded, although I did manage to replace the sheets), and some very gentle progress toward buying some of the furniture we want to buy but have been postponing (we did not buy anything, once again, but we did re-measure and re-confirm that we want to buy a specific bookshelf from Room & Board).
When it seemed as though Carla, newly divested of her friend, and my husband were happily doing their own things, I decided to drive to the garden center.
Firstly, garden centers can be FANTASTIC for fun gift-y browsing. The one I went to was AMAZING and I found myself drooling over plant stands and cheese trays and kitchen towels and wind chimes long before I even saw a plant.
Secondly, I am in full-on I Want to Plant Things mode, which is a mode that feels deeply unsatisfying because I am a) cheap and b) indecisive and c) black thumbed. But oh! how I love visiting the garden center and imagining all sorts of plants in and around my home. Am I person who could grow golden raspberries? I sure hope so! Do I need a malus purple prince flowering tree? I think I do! What kind of fern would work best in the sunroom (which has no furniture, and so is less of a “room” and more of a “holding space” for various things we haven’t felt up to tossing yet)? Hard to say because I have never dealt with ferns! Should I try to grow a bunch of veggies again this year? I am desperate to do so, but… HOW desperate?
I took a bunch of photos of all the things I want to buy (and of their price tags; yikes) and I think I finally made One Decision, which is that I want to buy two Dwarf Alberta Spruce (spruces? sprice?) to put in large containers on either side of our front door. It would be nice to have something green there all year long. I wouldn’t have to worry about planting flowers each spring, but it would still be inviting and elegant. And around the holidays, I could wrap them with fairy lights! The garden center person who asked if I needed help tells me that the only problem with putting them in pots is that their roots are in danger of freezing in the winter, so I might want to bring them inside. Hmmm. I will sleep on it.
In the meantime, I picked up a new friend. Meet Alien (“Because it’s green!” says Carla.), our new Venus flytrap. I hope it enjoys moths.
That’s all I’ve got for you, Internet. Passover begins tomorrow, and we have been lucky enough to be invited to a Seder with dear friends. Hope you have had a restful, bug-free weekend.
Oh hi! I am once again waiting for the HVAC professionals to arrive at my home! My furnace worked for two days. Then we had a day of beautiful sunshiney 79-degree weather and the interior of my house transformed into a sauna, so I turned on the air conditioning. Which didn’t work. This morning, my husband thought to check whether the furnace would work… and it did not work either. We have neither heat nor air conditioning. I am very glad today’s forecast is for mild temps, but… What is happening?????
Sidebar, since I was already moaning to you last week about pest woes: We opened the windows to help cool the house last night, and when I got into bed I noticed that approximately ten zillion miniature flying critters had taken up residence inside my lampshade, on the wall around my lamp, and on the ceiling directly above my lamp. I suspect they were tiny moths or other light-loving insects. I examined the screen nearest my bed and discovered that there is a large rip in it. It was past one (I fell asleep at my desk while working), so I did not have any energy to do a single thing about the moths. I turned off my lamp and went to bed, hoping they wouldn’t swarm me while I slept. This morning, they were gone. Where… did they go? I closed the window with the broken screen, so they didn’t exit that way. They don’t seem to have congregated around any of the nightlights. But… where are they? On the scale of pest awfulness, a million tiny moths doesn’t really register… but I am still very concerned. Am I going to open a seldom-used closet one of these days and find a full-fledged moth hive, pulsing with winged bugs?
MOVING RAPIDLY AWAY FROM THAT HORRIFYING IMAGE. I am in desperate need of groceries, but I’m afraid to leave the house lest the HVAC person choose that moment to show up. (They are supposed to give me a 30-minute window, but, in my experience, it is more like, “Oh, hey, I’m five minutes away!”)
Let’s turn our thoughts away from the specter of replacing BOTH air conditioner and furnace and to the much more comforting prospect of food!
Dinners for the Week of April 15-April 21
Taquito Enchiladas: I am pretty sure Sarah inspired this one, as I never in a million years would have thought to do this myself. But I am newly in possession of a bag of chicken taquitos from Costco and I really, really want to see if this easy delicious-sounding meal is as easy and delicious as I hope it will be.
Pasta Primavera: It’s that time of year again when I want ALL THE VEGGIES. I will sauté whatever I can find – asparagus! zucchini! broccoli! peas! – and add it to some protein pasta with a ton of lemon juice and parmesan. YUM.
Sheet Pan Red Curry Chicken and Veggies: This recipe calls for butternut squash, which I will probably sub out for… something else. Broccoli and cauliflower? Green beans?
Carla is back in the throes of Multiple Extracurriculars, now that spring sports have begun, so we will also be eating some junk food this week – some sort of fast-food chicken or burger, we’ll see. I am not a big fan of eating fast food on the regular, but sometimes it is the best and easiest option. This season of eating fast food multiple times per week won’t last forever, so I will try to lean into it as best I can.
And just like that, it’s mid-April! Many apologies for being MIA lately, internet! I miss you! (And I fully intend to catch up on what you’re up to.) This is one of those pell-mell times of the year, where I feel like I’m being propelled down a steep hill and can barely get my feet under me. All (mostly?) good things, but this is the first Fun Writing I’ve done in… three weeks maybe? When I go to open a document in Word, NONE of my recent files are my blog document, is what that means. (Yes, I type all my posts in Word and then transfer [some of] them to WordPress.)
Seems like a good day for a quick catch-up. And then I need to find a solid week or so to go back and read ALL OF YOUR POSTS, omg, I feel so out of the loop.
1. I am spending today as we all hope our Fridays go: waiting for the HVAC service technician to show up. Why, yes, that was sarcasm, and yes, our furnace IS dead. I’m glad it’s not, like, January, but it is currently 45 degrees F outside and the internal temperature of my house has dropped to 65. Perfect weather for walking on the treadmill while I cross two items on my to-do list off simultaneously!
Our furnace is 23 years old, if it is a day, so it’s no spring chicken. But we did just have the HVAC people in here this February to give it a checkup, so I’m feeling a little grumpy that it’s acting up now. Back in February, I asked the HVAC guy to give me a prognosis on the lifespan on my furnace, and he said, “Well, I can’t guarantee anything – it could stop working tomorrow! But it seems like it’s in good shape and you could get another ten years out of it.” Not sure why I didn’t hear the foreboding music swell in the background of this little pronouncement.
2. While I drank my breakfast (which was a smoothie and a mug of green tea, not, like, whiskey), I whacked away at my to-do list a bit more. It’s at that out-of-control point again, where things keep piling up until I am buried under their weight. The section I tackled today was Making Routine Doctors’ Appointments. Well, some of them were routine. Like I got Carla scheduled for her annual well visit and her annual eye exam (which we somehow skipped last year????). I also left a message on my doctor’s prescription line to follow up on a refill that I requested earlier this week. That last one took two calls because I got through three menu trees and clicked on “leave a message for Dr. X” and then had to listen to a recording that said this was the place to leave questions for the nurse, NOT the place to leave refill requests, so I had to go through all the phone menus again. And! Most exciting of all: I scheduled an ear piercing appointment for Carla! This will be her Big Birthday Present this year. She has been ramping up the requests to have her ears pierced over the past six to twelve months, and she has really made strides in Being Responsible (she has a necklace she wears daily that has so far always come home with her; she has a dental appliance she has to care for). Plus, she got a pair of nice-quality clip on earrings from her grandmother last fall, and she wears them regulary. So I think she is ready for pierced ears. I, however, am NOT ready for pierced ears. I have never had pierced ears, or any sort of piercing, and the whole thing a) squicks me out and b) makes me extremely nervous. I am squeamish and blood/body stuff makes me woozy. I am comforted by Carla’s swift and independent handling of her dental appliance; I have never had to touch it or adjust a single rubber band, and her orthodontist says she is doing great, so I am going to trust that between her and my husband, she’ll figure out how to care for HOLES in her BODY.
Still on the list are many additional phone calls, which I will probably avoid some more. I need to call the landscaper, make an appointment to get my car serviced, call someone to come look at our oven, call the trash collection service about whether they will collect some unusual items (paint cans and gutter guards), hire a lifeguard for Carla’s birthday party, and get some estimates to get the exterior of our house painted. Also on my list: a work project, two rather major projects for my volunteering role, a message for a family member’s Big Birthday Memory Book, finding photos of Carla for a school project, making decisions about and then scheduling a couple of other healthcare-type things, and, most daunting of all: figuring out how to order breakfast for an out-of-town group event at which I will not be present, in a town I have never visited and know nothing about.
3. A phone call I already made this week? Scheduling an appointment with our new pest control service. Even though we live, like, twenty miles away from our old neighborhood, the locations are different enough that they seem to have totally different pest problems. At our old house, we had silverfish; at this house, we have ants, stinkbugs, mice, and bats. “Probably you had rats, too,” the pest control guy said helpfully. But since in twelve years I never once saw a rat, or any sign of such, I refuse to acknowledge this as a possibility.
While he is from the same pest control company that handled our mouse problem when we first moved into this house, he is not the same person. He tells me he was injured last fall and on leave. But he used to do pest control for the previous owners, which was useful because he knew exactly where to go and what the problem areas were. He also kind of implied that the previous owners canceled a ton of their appointments, so he wasn’t surprised we had such a huge mouse infestation when we moved in. While I feel deeply uncomfortable with service people sharing qualms about their other customers, I do feel a little bit justified in my growing belief that the previous owners did not really take care of this place. Lots and lots of things have looked lovely on the surface and then turn out to be falling apart behind the scenes, and the repeated cancellation of regular home maintenance stuff helps explain that. Don’t get me wrong – they seem like lovely people, and I get the impression they are just very busy and travel a lot. And who knows! Maybe they had other stuff they were dealing with, and/or once they decided to move, they simply stopped keeping things up. I will tell you, while I am NOT EXCITED about bats or mice, I do prefer the tiny little ants and the occasional stinkbug to silverfish.
4. Did you know you can make queso dip out of cottage cheese? Possibly you already knew this, but I only just tried it. It was marvelous. I don’t know how “healthy” it was, especially because I ate it with tortilla chips. But it was easy and much higher in protein than covering my chips in shredded cheese while being just as delicious.
5. Speaking of things I have recently tried and loved, I have FINALLY found a travel pillow that allows me to sleep on the airplane! Sleeping is really the only way I can fly, because I find the entire experience so anxiety-producing. But I am not a person who can lean back against the questionably clean headrest or use a travel pillow. My head insists on flopping forward, no matter what, and each time it falls, I snap awake. It is neither comfortable nor restful and it’s kind of embarrassing, to be honest. I have tried so many travel pillows. So many. None of them work. But then! My husband ordered a TRTL travel pillow to use on our flights to and from spring break (four-ish hours each way) and on our first flight, he let me use it… and it WORKS. My head can rest gently in a forward position but there is enough support to prevent flopping AND it doesn’t make my neck ache! I did feel like a moron, winding it around my neck like I was bracing for arctic winds, but it was well worth it! I used it on the flight home, too, and it is now mine, all mine.
Okay, in the time since I drafted this post, I got a phone call (friend with whom I exchanged phone numbers for my phenomenal roof/siding person; being an adult is weird), made a phone call (oven repair person is scheduled!), wrapped two birthday presents, unloaded the dishwasher, tidied the kitchen, welcomed the furnace repair person into my home, threw some ice cubes into the dryer to refresh the clothes I dried last night and forgot about, discovered that my front door will BLOW OPEN unless it is locked, tossed a load of laundry in the washing machine, and agreed to pay to have a new transformer installed in my furnace. I think I hear the heater doing its thing!
You are so lovely and kind and comforting and wise. I adore you, truly. Thank you.
Also, just as an FYI: posting something highly vulnerable in the middle of the night – despite receiving kind, gentle, and understanding responses – may result in searing embarrassment.
Moving on, let’s talk about playdates!!! It’s all playdates all the time over here, folks!
We had two, on consecutive days, and they are now over, and they went okay. I feel more confident about future playdates, and have also reinforced my belief that back-to-back playdates are Too Much For Me.
Like many suggested, I allowed Carla to fill the kids in on our house rules (i.e., no shoes in the house, wash your hands when you come into the house, no food outside of the kitchen). As you predicted, no one complained.
I mainly left the kids alone to do their own thing, but there were two hiccups with this plan during the first playdate.
First, I had to unexpectedly re-do a writing project, so I needed focused time to work while the kids were playing. But of all Carla’s many toys, they seized on her small collection of remote-controlled animals/robots and brought them all downstairs – presumably because they move more easily on the hard flooring instead of the carpet.
After I asked them not to spy on me with the walkie talkie robot, they abandoned this avenue of play. One of my rules is “no screens” – although there is a special dispensation for a movie once all other play options, including going outside, have been exhausted. But during the first playdate, the kids went into the basement and started playing music on the TV in the workout room. Carla does this when she “works out,” by which I mean she sets the treadmill to something like point-five miles per hour and then sings along to Dua Lipa and Ava Max while she walks. Fine, I can be flexible with this re-interpretation of the no-screens thing.
After awhile, I noticed that I couldn’t hear the music anymore so I went to check on the kids… and they were sitting in the dark on the exercise bench playing some sort of “would you rather” game on the TV. They’d found it on… YouTube? Netflix? I honestly have no idea. The questions I saw were pretty tame, but I have NO IDEA what the content of the other questions was so I put the kibosh on this activity pretty quickly.
Well. Lesson learned, and before the second playdate, I re-discussed with Carla my reasoning for not allowing screens, and talked with her YET AGAIN about why unsupervised internet surfing freaks me out, and I specified that even the downstairs TV is off limits.
So. We were all set for playdate number two, and that went very smoothly. The kids played Truth or Dare most of the time, which consisted mainly of them daring one another to run into my office and shout something nonsensical or do a little dance.
All of the other things I worried about – you are going to be SHOCKED by this, so brace yourself – turned out to be non-issues. I had Reasons for being near both of the friends’ houses, so we were able to pick up one friend and drop off the other, and one of their parents did the other half of the interaction. I loaded up on plenty of snacks, and the kids ate the snacks – except for the bananas, which I will now have to add to my already robust supply of frozen overripe bananas. I fed both kids dinner, and that worked out fine, although one of the kids didn’t want chicken nuggets so I had to pivot at the last minute. Thankfully, I had some meatballs in the freezer and she was amenable to eating those with some spaghetti noodles; my kid ate plain pasta.
Because the kids had other activities, the duration of the playdates sort of fell into place organically. They ended up being about four hours each, which worked just fine. Time will tell whether Carla gets invited to the kids’ houses for playdates – although one parent said she was welcome anytime – but after everyone’s accounts of how infrequently their own kids got invited to playdates, I am no longer focusing on that particular worry; I’m sure others will move right in to take its place.
You are so lovely and kind and comforting and wise. I adore you, truly. Thank you.
Also, just as an FYI: posting something highly vulnerable in the middle of the night – despite receiving kind, gentle, and understanding responses – may result in searing embarrassment.
Moving on, let’s talk about playdates!!! It’s all playdates all the time over here, folks!
We had two, on consecutive days, and they are now over, and they went okay. I feel more confident about future playdates, and have also reinforced my belief that back-to-back playdates are Too Much For Me.
Like many suggested, I allowed Carla to fill the kids in on our house rules (i.e., no shoes in the house, wash your hands when you come into the house, no food outside of the kitchen). As you predicted, no one complained.
I mainly left the kids alone to do their own thing, but there were two hiccups with this plan during the first playdate.
First, I had to unexpectedly re-do a writing project, so I needed focused time to work while the kids were playing. But of all Carla’s many toys, they seized on her small collection of remote-controlled animals/robots and brought them all downstairs – presumably because they move more easily on the hard flooring instead of the carpet.
After I asked them not to spy on me with the walkie talkie robot, they abandoned this avenue of play. One of my rules is “no screens” – although there is a special dispensation for a movie once all other play options, including going outside, have been exhausted. But during the first playdate, the kids went into the basement and started playing music on the TV in the workout room. Carla does this when she “works out,” by which I mean she sets the treadmill to something like point-five miles per hour and then sings along to Dua Lipa and Ava Max while she walks. Fine, I can be flexible with this re-interpretation of the no-screens thing.
After awhile, I noticed that I couldn’t hear the music anymore so I went to check on the kids… and they were sitting in the dark on the exercise bench playing some sort of “would you rather” game on the TV. They’d found it on… YouTube? Netflix? I honestly have no idea. The questions I saw were pretty tame, but I have NO IDEA what the content of the other questions was so I put the kibosh on this activity pretty quickly.
Well. Lesson learned, and before the second playdate, I re-discussed with Carla my reasoning for not allowing screens, and talked with her YET AGAIN about why unsupervised internet surfing freaks me out, and I specified that even the downstairs TV is off limits.
So. We were all set for playdate number two, and that went very smoothly. The kids played Truth or Dare most of the time, which consisted mainly of them daring one another to run into my office and shout something nonsensical or do a little dance.
Another unexpected – hmmm… “dilemma” seems too strong a word, but that’s in the neighborhood of how I’m feeling about this so we’ll stick with it – dilemma arose during the not-insignificant car rides to and from the playdates. It’s partially my fault, and I have now Set A Precedent, so it’s something to mull. I suggested that the kids take turns making song requests to liven up the car ride. They really enjoyed this, and I enjoyed hearing their adorable conversations about the artists they like. However, Carla is allowed to listen to a lot of music, even if it has questionable lyrics. I draw the line currently at hard rap and other words with frequent cursing or use of the N-word, but even Taylor Swift will throw out an F-bomb now and again. We’ve talked about cursing and how there is a time and a place, and Carla is pretty averse to it overall, so we feel that it’s okay in music. I prefer the radio edits, honestly, but I’m not precious about it. But… I don’t really know how OTHER PARENTS feel about this. For one of our playdates, I know the parents really well and I think they would be okay with it… but the other kid’s parents are not as familiar to me. She didn’t seem to request, like, exclusively Disney songs or KidzBop songs, so I am guessing her parents let her listen to a range of music, but may be a little more restrictive than my husband and I are on this topic. Anyway, there was a lot of whispering in the car over song selection, and I heard Carla say, “Oh, she won’t mind” about me, and I overheard some discussion about and then a decision not to request a song that had a curse word in the title. And there was a song Carla requested that has the F-word in it, so I very loudly and obnoxiously bleeped that out every time it came up, which the kids found both annoying and hilarious. I don’t know. Curse words exist in the world. These kids are ten and eleven and are aware of that. So I guess I don’t feel too bad about allowing a little bit of cursing in songs we listen to??? But also I feel a little unsure about the “right” stance to take, when I am charged with caring for another person’s kid. Your thoughts are welcome.
All of the other things I worried about – you are going to be SHOCKED by this, so brace yourself – turned out to be non-issues. I had Reasons for being near both of the friends’ houses, so we were able to pick up one friend and drop off the other, and one of their parents did the other half of the interaction. I loaded up on plenty of snacks, and the kids ate the snacks – except for the bananas, which I will now have to add to my already robust supply of frozen overripe bananas. I fed both kids dinner, and that worked out fine, although one of the kids didn’t want chicken nuggets so I had to pivot at the last minute. Thankfully, I had some meatballs in the freezer and she was amenable to eating those with some spaghetti noodles; my kid ate plain pasta.
Because the kids had other activities, the duration of the playdates sort of fell into place organically. They ended up being about four hours each, which worked just fine. Time will tell whether Carla gets invited to the kids’ houses for playdates – although one parent said she was welcome anytime – but after everyone’s accounts of how infrequently their own kids got invited to playdates, I am no longer focusing on that particular worry; I’m sure others will move right in to take its place.
I am having an attack of insecurity. There are (currently) four things I can blame, I think: 1. My husband is on call, and when he is on call we spend less time together and I feel ignored and needy. 2. My primary client, for the first time ever, returned a project to me and asked me to redo it. Not minor edits, but a complete redo because I had so completely missed the mark. 3. I have been ordering cute bikinis from amazon because the summery weather (which has since retreated) has me dreaming of time by the pool, and NOT A ONE has looked remotely reasonable on me and only emphasizes the weird shape of my hips and thighs. 4. My poor kid is homesick for our old house and cannot fall asleep (it is currently 1:11 in the morning egads) and I cannot help her feel better (which I know isn’t always the goal! she should feel her feelings!) or help her fall asleep.
To sum up: I am unlovable, my work performance sucks, I look terrible in a bathing suit and probably in all clothing, and I am a terrible mother.
Should I perhaps be focusing on the fact that my husband is lovely and warm and attentive 6/7 of the time, and that he is not ignoring me but is instead focusing all his energy on the very difficult work of keeping dangerously sick people alive? Should I perhaps be remembering that this client mostly asks for very small edits, if any, and also it seems statistically improbable that I would write exactly what they want every single time and also one miss does not negate all the hits, nor does it preclude me from writing well in the future? Should I perhaps stop pressing my finger into the tender bruise of body imperfection when I have a perfectly good, rear-end covering skirted suit already? Should I perhaps recall the many, many nights when I was a child that I cried myself to sleep over something or other and the many, many nights as a child and an adult when I couldn’t sleep and how none of those nights had anything to do with my parents or their parenting ability?
Should does not equal AM DOING, let me tell you that.
Insecurity can REALLY spiral if I let it get going, so I have been reading articles titled “Top Ten Things Therapists Recommend You Do When You’re Feeling Insecure!” and “How to Conquer Feelings of Insecurity.” The thing is that I know how to stop feeling insecure. I mean, I am aware of the techniques. But most of them are long-term kinds of things (replace negative self-talk with positive self-talk; focus on your strengths; talk to a therapist) and I am working on those things, but I want a quick fix. Is there a quick fix for feeling insecure?
What I really want is to say something negative about myself and have someone refute it with convincing evidence backed by reliable sources. My husband is not good at providing reassurance of this type; he is impatient with insecurity and seems to operate under the belief that there is no need to tell a person something that they should already know about themselves. (I also worry that, if I am too insecure around him, he will stop wanting to be married to me how’s THAT for insecurity catastrophizing, hmmm?????)
Reassurance is best sought from friends, I find. But it’s too late to call or text any of my analog-world friends, so I am writing to you. This makes it sound like I am demanding compliments, which I am not because that would be embarrassing and stupid. (Also, you aren’t married to me, you don’t know my work writing and you don’t know what I look like in a bikini, so, lovely and brilliant as you are, you cannot possibly make an honest evaluation of any of those things.) What I’m hoping for, I guess, is commiseration and solidarity. I would also accept The Key to Real Confidence, if you have it.
Do you ever feel insecure? If so, what do you do when you feel that way? My negative self-talk is so loud right now, even my strategies for combatting it (talking out loud to myself; pretending my concerns belong to my best friend and saying to myself what I would say to her; referring to myself as honey and acknowledging that my feelings are valid) are inaudible over the din.
Gah. Being a person is so stupid and exhausting sometimes.
Well, I suppose the next best thing to writing a blog post about it is going to sleep. Sleep helps most things.
Here I am, all easy breezy, having scheduled TWO spring break playdates like it ain’t no thing. When it turns out I am not done stressing about playdates, not even a little bit. Here are some of my specific (and let’s face it, pretty deranged) worries:
Being Too Lax or, Conversely, Too Strict: We have house rules, and I think it’s reasonable that kids who visit our house should abide by those rules, just as I’d expect Carla to abide by the rules of any house she visits. But when people who aren’t my family are in my house, I start to second guess our rules. Is it weirdly fastidious to ask that people take off their shoes? Am I helicoptering if I tell the friend that there’s no dropping things/throwing things/jumping from the balcony? Am I being a psychopathic germaphobe/germaphobic psychopath if I expect kids to wash their hands when they come into the house (which is what every member of my immediate family does upon entering our home, every time)? I don’t want kids playing in my bedroom or my office, I don’t want kids jumping or standing on the furniture, we don’t eat anywhere besides the kitchen. These things feel reasonable in my day-to-day life, but when I collect all these rules into a tidy bunch to present to another person, they feel like A Lot. And how do you convey your expectations? I don’t want to be condescending or overly rigid by announcing a thousand rules up front, but I also don’t want a kid to “break” a rule she doesn’t know and then feel like she’s being scolded for it. And also, what about rules that you feel like you shouldn’t have to say out loud, and also are hard to anticipate because they seem so obvious, like “don’t throw food” or “don’t paint on things using the carpet as a dropcloth”?
Logistics: We now live out of town, and I realize that it’s not super easy to get here. One recent playdate, we brought the kid home with us from school and then drove her home. Another recent playdate, I picked the kid up from her house, her parent came and got her from mine. I think I have established logistics upfront for one of our two already-scheduled playdates – we are going to be in the area of the kid’s house, so when we arranged the day, I said we would pick her up and suggested that her parent come and get her after the playdate is over. But the other kid lives QUITE far away. We can drop her off, and I already let her parent know that… but we haven’t figured out the details of how the kid is getting to my house… I really don’t want to offer to go get her, because it will be a long drive and we are already going to drop her off. But… is it fair to ask her parents to endure the long drive to bring her here? I could suggest we meet somewhere in the middle, I guess. Is that weird?
Duration: When Carla was little, playdates were pretty typically two or three hours long. These days, they seem to last a bit longer, which is fine… but how long is too long? Are they going to hate each other if they spend more than three hours together? And what about sleepovers, which are necessarily much longer? Carla has had ONE sleepover, and when her mom asked what time she should pick her up, and I suggested eleven the next morning, the mom expressed surprise. “Let me know if I should come earlier,” she said ominously, as though the kids would be at each other’s throats. (Eleven worked out fine, but that feels like beginner’s luck????) At this age, is a meal always involved? For instance, I think our playdates are beginning after lunch… but does that mean I need to prepare dinner? (I am already prepared to prepare dinner, I am just wondering if that’s normal or if I’m overthinking the whole thing.) (Hahahahaha, ME?!?!, overthink anything?!?!?!)
Reciprocity Signals: Carla doesn’t get invited to a whole lot of playdates. I don’t think she’s been to a single one this year. Yet she and her friends seem to PLAN a lot of playdates at school. And everyone we’ve invited for a playdate at our house has said yes. So… is this just a case of the other families are busy and/or hate playdates even more than I do and/or they just haven’t gotten around to it and/or they have multiple children so fitting playdates in and among the thousand extracurricular activities they must be juggling is simply impossible? Or am I missing a subtle signal that Carla is not welcome at their homes or not well liked by other kids or or or?????
My mom reminds me that when I was a kid, NONE OF THIS was an issue. She said the word “playdate” was not even part of our vocabulary. I would just say, “Can So-and-So come over?” and that was that. We’d come over and entertain ourselves. But… how? I am guessing – hoping – some of this stress comes from lack of practice. In any event, the ball is already picking up speed as it bumbles down the hill.
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life of a doctor's wife 