Twilight

I don't understand the argument against letting tweens read the Twilight series or see the movie.

It's not so much that I don't understand their arguments. I'm just surprised at them. And I don't agree with them.

We took our son, who will turn 11 next week, to see it last night. My husband, my son, and I have read all four books in the series, and we'd been looking forward to seeing the movie together for a long time. (It just took us a while to find a time when all three of us were available to go, and without the younger twins.)

At brunch a month ago, when three of my girlfriends were headed to see the movie afterward (among the three of them, they have four children my son's age), I was surprised -- no, shocked -- to hear how vehemently they were against allowing their children to read the stories. And I would not consider these parents to be typically ultra-conservative regarding movie selections for their children. Yet they absolutely would not let their children see this one -- no way, no how.

Yes, I see that the primary conflict is over sex (and its trade for immortality).

But what, in today's culture, is not about sex?

In contrast to much of what kids see in movies, even on TV, the sex conflict in this series takes place within a long-term, committed relationship. These characters have arguments, but they don't just end the relationship. Well, not permanently, anyway. Sometimes breakups and reconciliations are part of the process of learning to navigate a relationship. They communicate, they resolve their differences. Sometimes the resolution takes longer to achieve, but they work it out in the end.

Isn't this what we want our children to learn?

Frankly, my only disappointment with the love story is that Edward's sticking point is marriage. I don't want my own children to turn to marriage at such a young age (Bella is 17 when the story begins) just so they can have sex. Yes, I truly hope my children will be in a meaningful relationship when they feel the "time is right," but I don't believe the decision to marry should be based on hormonal desires.

Now that we've read the books and seen the first of the movie installments, together as a family, I hope we can use the love story as a vehicle for communication with our son about love, sex, commitment, relationships. When the sequel is released next year, he'll be nearly 12 years old. I assume he'll be 13 and 14 when the final two films are released. Over these years, he'll become interested in girls, and I hope he'll talk to us about the emotional and hormonal desires and fears this interest will bring.

I hope he'll see that the desire to have sex is normal. I hope he learns that it's not a "bad" thing that's off-limits until marriage. Instead, I hope he'll learn to manage these desires. I hope he'll learn that sex is part of a relationship -- just one element of it, in addition to mutual respect, healthy conflict, communication, discovery of the whole person.

If we, his parents, stay out of it altogether, or simply present sex as an all-or-nothing proposition, then he will be forced to learn all he can from his peers. And they don't know any more than he does!

It's our job as his parents to help him understand relationships. And if we can have a little fun while we're at it -- such as sharing a night at the movies -- then all the better.

Finite

"Life is not always a beautiful thing," he told me.

My father-in-law and I were the only two people left in the dining room after we'd finished our pie. He's 87. He's a wonderful man: intelligent, loving, kind, a good listener, attentive, a good socializer, and more.

As he ages, the process affects him profoundly. He's a good listener and attentive, but he now has so much trouble hearing that he sometimes "checks out" of conversations. He enjoys socializing with family and friends, but his failing heart and broken hip limit the number and extent of his visits. He loves his family, but his aging body becomes exhausted and he excuses himself to take naps.

We all recognize these facts as fairly inevitable effects of aging. Knowing that the human body has a finite number of years in which to remain active, at some point, something has to give. Even though we love Bill regardless of his physical condition, he is quite frustrated by it.

Bill's perspective is that, after the age of retirement, many people enjoy their 60s and 70s with the benefits of freedom, financial comfort, good health, and energy. But by the time we reach our 80s, the body begins to fail. Of course, there are always exceptions. But from what I've seen of older relatives, I think he's generally right.

I've seen some relatives whose minds weaken before their bodies. And others whose bodies weaken before their minds. It has led me to wonder which I'd prefer. Sometimes I think I'd prefer for my body to weaken first, because at least I'd still have my mind. I'd be able to enjoy conversations with others, think for myself, be aware of who I am. Yet I might feel that I'm living in my own personal torture chamber, a viable mind confined by a body that can't keep up. Bill is aging this way.

Then I think I might prefer for my mind to weaken first, because at least I wouldn't be very cognizant of it. I'd be in my own world, oblivious to my own failing state. But my relatives wouldn't. From watching spouses and children take care of their loved ones with Alzheimer's or another form of dementia, it's hardest on the families. My grandmother, who is about my father-in-law's age, is currently aging in this manner.

The mental exercise of determining a preferable method of aging is moot, of course. I will do whatever is in my power to keep both my mind and my body active, but in the end, the decision is not mine to make. Genetics plays too large a role, and it reveals itself slowly.

In the meantime, life is a beautiful thing.

Know Thyself

After two days of Christmas celebrations, my twins were at each others' throats today. They insisted on being with each other, even though they irritated one another to no end. They needed time apart, but wouldn't separate.

I was worn out from the celebrations myself, but I didn't want to hang around here listening to them fight all day. So, since my husband had plans with "the guys" tonight, the kids and I decided to see a movie. We quickly settled on Marley & Me. Well, most of us did. Surprisingly, one of the twins -- the one who usually loves to see movies -- said she didn't want to go. Also surprisingly, the other twin -- the one who typically hates seeing movies -- was adamant that she did want to go. My son is always up for any plans, and he stayed true to character.

I figured the naysayer would change her mind (she often does, as she typically avoids conflict in favor of accommodating others). But she stuck to her guns. No movie for her. A quick call to my parents remedied the situation: she'd hang out with them and the other two would go to the movies with me.

Throughout the afternoon, everyone held firm. Especially my little one who was brave enough to be different. (Remember, she's a twin. I don't know about other twins, but my twins do everything together. For one to break off from the other is highly unusual.)

So we dropped her off at Mom and Dad's on the way to the movie theater. She cheerily waved good-bye to us as she walked up the driveway to the house, holding my dad's hand.

My other two and I saw the movie. We loved it: we laughed a lot and cried some, too. (Turns out it was probably best that the one daughter missed the movie. She's more emotional than the others, and the movie probably would have been tough on her.)

Afterward, my daughter opened the door for us with a warm greeting. She filled us in on everything they'd been up to while we were out. She seemed relaxed, content.

Although initially I had hoped she'd change her mind and join us at the movies, I was so proud of my daughter at this moment. The one who likes to please others pleased herself this time. She was in touch with her own needs: a quiet evening at home.

Known

I know Christmas has become completely commercialized, yet I am not ashamed to say that I enjoy giving and receiving gifts.

Humans have given gifts for thousands of years. Reciprocity, in fact, is one trait that is inherent to humans. It's natural for us to want to give to others, as others give to us. Give-and-take: whether we shroud it in the custom of Christmas, birthdays, or any other religious or secular celebration is moot. We look for opportunities to gather, celebrate, give, and receive.

In our family, the parents exchange gifts just as the kids do. And the kids give to the parents, not just the other way around. Children are showered with gifts aplenty; I think it's healthy for them to see the adults participating in the experience, as well. And when children give gifts to their siblings and to their parents, they are allowed to experience the joy of giving, in addition to the pleasure of receiving.

For this reason, I don't favor the practice of buying a gift for oneself and just "telling" the spouse what he or she bought. Or in the parents forgoing gifts for each other entirely. When this occurs, the potential giver is deprived of the experience of thinking up and hunting down just the "perfect" gift, anxiously keeping it a secret until finally Christmas morning arrives! (In fact, I was absolutely giddy over a gift that I spent a great deal of time researching and tracking down for my husband -- a gift that he hadn't asked for and didn't expect me to get him, but that he wanted very badly. How different Christmas morning would have been had he just gone out and bought the item for himself.)

Part of the joy of gift-giving is in the careful consideration of a gift, based on knowing the recipient's hobbies, personality, taste, needs, and more. To have selected a gift thoughtfully, painstakingly wrapped and adorned it, and presented it to someone we care about has the potential to bring the giver great joy. And to receive a gift that's been selected thoughtfully, painstakingly wrapped and adorned, and presented by someone we care about has the ability to make the recipient feel so appreciated, loved, and known.

In my mind, expense is not even a factor, other than to not spend more than one can comfortably afford. Gifts may be extravagant, homemade, thrifty, or expensive. On sale or full retail. The cost doesn't matter. But the specificity of the gift to the recipient can mean everything. One of my daughters' favorite gifts was, in fact, homemade by my son. The cost of materials was much, much less than the cost to purchase the item ready-made. But he put hours of love into it. I still can't tell who was more excited over this gift -- him for creating it for them, or them for knowing that he cared enough to make the perfect gift for them.

This Christmas, we heard many squeals of delight. Some of them from me! I was so pleased to realize that my family really knows me. Whether the gift cost $15 or $500 didn't matter. What mattered to me is that they took into consideration my interests, my hobbies, my goals, in selecting just the perfect items for me. Their thoughtfulness is what made me feel so appreciated -- much more so than the gifts themselves.

I hope my gifts to others caused them to feel as appreciated and as known as they made me feel. That is one of the joys of Christmas.

Hooked Up

I don't view myself as a soccer mom. Despite the fact that I'm a married, white, middle-class mom living in the suburbs. The thing is, I don't drive a minivan. Not that there's anything wrong with it. I mean, I have owned minivans in the past. When my kids were babies/toddlers/preschoolers, I couldn't imagine any vehicle better suited for transporting three little ones and all their gear.

But as soon as they were old enough to buckle themselves in their seats, I switched to driving SUVs. My current one is my favorite -- midsize; hybrid; drives like a car, not a truck. It just feels more like "me."

But here's the thing... No one likes taking it on long drives. It's comfortable, but it just doesn't have the configuration desired for settling in over the long haul, along with coolers, luggage, stuff to keep the kids busy, and the dog.

So, for a couple of upcoming trips, we've decided unanimously that we want to rent the Chrysler Town and Country minivan -- the one with the swivel seats and the fold-up table. In the commercials, it looks like a family room on wheels: everyone is smiling, facing each other, playing cards, having a great time. We want that!

So I spent an hour on the Internet and phone this morning, checking with all the local rental car agencies, as well as with our local Chrysler dealer, to try to rent a Chrysler T&C. To no avail! No one has them available for rent, and the dealer didn't really know how to help me, either. Who knew that a rental minivan would be such a hard-to-find commodity?

After all this research, one would likely reach the conclusion that this particular vehicle is simply not available for rent in our city. Except ... wait ... my neighbor rented one last year. Hmmm.

So I called the neighbor to ask what's up. Evidently, getting the T&C is a matter of pulling strings, knowing the right person, working the connections. My friend said he'd be happy to hook me up. I feel I've just made some grand coup!

Kind of sounds like we're involved in some illicit transaction. But no, it's all on the up-and-up. Nothing illegal or improper. Just playing the connections game. All over a minivan!

Getting connected with the right rental agent completely made my day. I'll definitely win points with the fam!

But I will be shaking my head in disbelief all day: a minivan as a rare commodity? I just don't get it.

Teacher

It is said that we can learn much from children. Maria Montessori, in fact, designed her schools around multiple-age groupings, with the intention that the children learn from one another. Is the following "teachable moment" what she had in mind?

Her parents were late in getting to the bus stop after school, so the driver asked if the 5-year-old could get off with my girls.

Despite the four-year age difference, she was having so much fun playing with my daughters that I told her parents there was no need to rush over here to pick her up.

So I gave them a snack. While they were eating at the kitchen counter, I went to the other room to get a bottle of water for myself. After having been gone for less than a minute, I returned to overhear a single-track conversation. Rather, instruction:

"Ass," she said. My girls dutifully repeated, in unison: "Ass."
"Ass," she said again. My girls again repeated: "Ass."
And they said it all over again.

Surprised at what I was hearing, I asked: "What are we talking about?"

The five-year-old said, "Ass is a bad word."

"Yes, it is. But why are you saying it?"

"Well, I was just telling the girls."

Sigh... Yes, even [my] children have so much to learn from the young.

The Time Is Right

NOW the house is ready for Christmas.

Like the tension between a man and a woman who want one another, to give in too soon can destroy the desire, and to prolong the inevitable can cause unnecessary frustration.

Today, we were just ready.

Social Moth

Friends who know me well at this stage of my life are sure I'm guilty of hyperbole when I say that, in high school, I could literally go an entire day without letting one word escape my mouth. I mean, not one word. But I assure them that this is fact, not exaggeration. I was really that shy, at least during my first two years of high school. Painfully shy.

Thankfully, I've since come out of my shell (or, shall I say, cocoon?). Now, I am quite comfortable in a crowd, with small talk, deep conversation, humor, even a little harmless flirting among friends. In fact, I've come to greatly enjoy socializing with friends, strangers, whomever! Still an introvert at heart -- I get my "charge" from quiet time at home, not from a big crowd of people -- I look forward to evenings out, mingling and laughing with others.

But I wouldn't quite describe myself as a social butterfly. Maybe a social moth is more apropos. I mean, I can fly through the room and do all the things a butterfly can do, but perhaps with less beauty and finesse.

Last night, we hosted our second annual company holiday party.

(OK, digression here... It's hard for me to write, think, or say "holiday party." I'm Catholic, and to me, it's a "Christmas party." But we need to be politically correct. And you've heard the soapbox arguments before on the whole "holiday" vs "Christmas" thing. So just insert that little rant here. Back to the story...)

We hosted the holiday party. Last year, we had the party at an upscale restaurant. We all dressed up, ate expensive steak meals, had great conversation around one big table. Of course, there were only about six employees and their spouses who attended, conducive to that type of intimate event.

This year, we have fifteen full-time employees, all of whom attended. Most with spouses. So the party was bigger. We chose to hold the party in a more casual restaurant, in a private room with multiple tables, a buffet, ping-pong and pool tables, and less structure -- more conducive to games and free mingling. Oh, and an open bar.

It was a great evening! My husband is more the butterfly than I am, so he flitted from group to group easily. I made it to just about everyone, but I do prefer longer conversations over the small-talk quick hits, so it took me longer to make my way through the crowd. Sometimes I like to people-watch, so I took a few short "social breaks" throughout the night to just watch others interacting.

Watching others socialize is really fascinating to me. Especially when there's an open bar. After a few drinks, some of the more introverted, socially cautious people open up a bit or a lot, allowing a glimpse into their true personalities. Couples tell their stories about each other with a wink and a nudge -- that harmless, teasing, back-and-forth that makes for great entertainment. After a few drinks, the extroverted among us become even more so -- wowwing others with their social flexibility, living large, creating "events" throughout the night. After a few drinks, people who were mere coworkers become BFFs, sharing secrets, planning future social events to enjoy together. After a few drinks, a company party becomes, simply and happily, a party of friends.

Finally, I looked at the time. By 12:30, the party that was to end at 11:00 was still going strong, at least among the last dozen to linger. Alas, we missed curfew -- we called the babysitter to say we're so sorry, but we're not going to be home by 12:00 as we'd thought. How about if we shoot for 1:00?

(Very) Personal Art

My daughter has recently taken to creating paper cutout art while {ahem} using the bathroom. We've been privy -- no pun intended -- well, maybe it was -- to many such artistic creations from her of late.




















I guess the lesson to be learned is that time should never be wasted. Even a trip to the bathroom can be time well spent!

Wishes

The Mega Millions jackpot is up to $170 million.

I'm not usually a lottery player, or a gambler of any type, but when the lottery gets up that high, I have to go for it!

To be sure, I don't need anything material in my life. I certainly have everything I need, and much more.

I don't even really want anything material all that badly.

That's not to say I wouldn't love to see what I could do with $170 million. And besides, it's fun to make wishes, to imagine!

I would:

Pay the college tuition for every kid in our extended family, not just our own children. Actually, I'd pay for any adults in the family who wanted to go back to school, too.

Help out several families I know with special needs children. Expenses to educate children with non-mainstream needs can be exorbitant.

Donate more than we currently do to many worthwhile local organizations.

Buy my mother-in-law the house she really wants.

Of course, even though I don't need anything material, I would make a few changes. I mean, $170 million! Who wouldn't splurge a little?

So, if I had $170 million, I'd sell the suburban house we live in and buy two places: one in the city, and one in the country. (OK, in the interest of honesty, with that much money, I'd probably buy a couple of vacation homes, too: one on the ski slopes somewhere, one on the beach somewhere...) But they wouldn't have to be big places! Big is overrated. But diverse, now, that's exciting.

My other self-indulgent splurge would be to travel a bit more. To places a bit farther away and a bit more exotic.

And the rest? Well, the main thing $170 million would buy is peace of mind. Without concern for the housing market, the stock market, the job market, the cost of college tuition, the value of retirement savings, and more, we could simply pursue our interests, whether they are financially profitable or not.

But these are just wishes. Just flights of fancy. Something to amuse my mind. Isn't it fun to play sometimes?

Ripple Effect

One nice thing about having laryngitis is the ripple effect it causes: My kids unconsciously match the volume of their voices to mine. So we have a generally quieter household all around!

The intense knives-in-the-throat feeling I felt yesterday, as {what I assume is} a virus in my throat was violently working its cruel wonders on me, has greatly subsided to a tolerable sore throat today. My throbbing sinuses are merely achy now. As my friends witnessed the rapid escalation of symptoms last night, I received numerous diagnoses by good-intentioned "Dr. Mom" friends. Their consensus was that I have strep throat and should get to Urgent Care ASAP today for an antibiotic.

But I don't think I will. I survived the night. The symptoms are better, and I'm not prone to strep. The doctors can't help me with a virus.

So I'll loaf around the house today, whispering to my kids. I'll use the loud/raspy whisper, when necessary, to break up any fights.

But mainly I'll enjoy the quiet day. Because when Mom speaks softly, the kids do, too.

Parting Words

"And tell your husband to hand over those keys!" he said as I left the examining room.

I looked back with a smile, "Oh, I will!"

Today, 9-1/2 weeks after being diagnosed with a hip fracture and being confined to crutches, Dr W cleared me for all kinds of activities. Including driving a stick-shift! I've had my eyes on my husband's new car for the past month, so when he gets back in town with it, I plan to take it for a spin!

So, I'm cleared to drive any kind of car.

I'm also cleared to carry the laundry around.

And I'm cleared to go to the gym! Of course, I'll be doing low-impact activities for a while yet, but that's fine with me -- at least I can do something! And as we were going over which specific gym activities are and are not allowed, Dr W warned against moving toward only the high-impact, high-repetition pursuits (which is how I got into this mess in the first place).

His words of wisdom: "Use all the sections of the gym."

(Of course, I drove straight there to have my membership reinstated posthaste.)

This afternoon, my daughters and I had a casting-off-of-the-crutches celebration. The girls were so enthusiastic while helping me discard them. I knew the real source of their enthusiasm was their hope of confiscating my old sticks. "Mom, now that you're done with them, do we get the crutches?"

I laughed. Sure -- anyone but me!

Photographic Adventure

The character Earl Hickey of My Name Is Earl can't seem to keep his eyes open in a photo.











I can relate.

Yesterday, I set out to take the annual photo of my children for our Christmas card. At the ages of 10 (son) and 9 (twin daughters), they're experienced enough to know the photo drill. I figured this would be a breeze.

More like a storm.

I'd picked out the coordinating outfits several weeks ago, and obtained buy-in from each child at that point. The girls were easy: they liked their dresses and the boots. My son was a little skeptical of the scarf, but seemed willing to try something new. The new piano room color scheme happened to match the outfits, so once the furniture arrived, that became our set and we were ready to go.

Instead, the plan began to fall apart.

My son put the outfit on and immediately commenced unbottoning the collar and then frantically tucking it into the shirt. "What are you doing to the collar?" I asked. "I hate the feel of it against my skin!" he said.

No matter. He'd have a scarf on. Which, incidentally, put him near tears."I look stupid in this!"

I thought he looked handsome and stylish.

We got him settled down, although he still maintained a pout.

Once my son was somewhat under control, I went back to curling the girls' hair. One of the twins gave a disgusted sigh and approached tears herself: "There are no curls in my hair!" As I looked at her hair that had curls all over, I didn't quite understand her frustration. She looked truly beautiful. The rest of the clan looked at her with mouths agape. "What do you mean, you don't have any curls? We're looking right at them!"

Naturally, the solution was bribery: all children who endured the photo shoot happily and with smiles would get ice cream afterward. Amazingly, three smiles immediately appeared on all three faces!

Good thing I was shooting with digital. I took about 50 shots and deleted about 48 of them. (To be honest, they weren't all rejected due to the subjects -- several were rejected due to poor photography on my part!)

Witness the gallery of rejects (rejected photos, that is, not children!):




Goofy eyes









Closed eyes










Distracted eyes











Cutesy overkill









Choke-hold on the dog





I started to wonder if our photographic adventure would ever end. But it did, with success. And the winner?




















Still, maybe I'll leave the photography to the pros next Christmas!