An Evening With The Ladies

I was going to use Girls Night Out 2, but that seemed a little lame. Besides, it's really not a sequel. The word "girl" to me indicates a child, or at the very minimum a much younger me. An Evening With The Ladies makes it sound a bit more refined...like we are classy broads, ya know? I should really just call it what it is...Moms Night Out . The rare occurrence of spending time with people who will not require cleaning, feeding, or refereeing. Although... that isn't necessarily a true statement, as I am pretty sure I have done all of these at some point when out with ladies.

Let me start with a little upfront information for the men out there. When a woman wants to spend a night out with her friends, please don't take it personally. It's not because she doesn't want to spend time with you, or that she's going out on the prowl looking for another man. It's just that there is something about being around girlfriends that revitalizes us. We need that time to just be ourselves and talk about whatever is on our minds. Believe me, you should be happy that we do not want to discuss most of these topics with you. For example, I know just as much about my friends "lady parts" as their gynecologists. Frequently used terms in our discussions include; uterus, discharge, menstrual cycle, and spotting. I could be wrong, but I'm guessing these are not things you would like to talk about, so that said...you're welcome.

Aside from all the gyno talk, we also discuss our kids at great lengths. We talk about our kids a lot anyway, but lately the discussion seems to be almost exclusively about them. We talk about sickness, including types of cough, such as dry, hacking, or productive. We discuss rashes as if we are pediatricians asking each other questions like "Did it start on the trunk and then move to his extremities?", and "Did it look like spots under the skin, or raised, fluid filled, bumps on the skin?" Then there is the riveting talk about mucus and which colors are good and which ones require medical attention. I promise guys, you're not missing out on much.

The most recent night I had out with the girls had a few elements that stuck out to me. First, we actually carpooled. That's right. We all fit in a vehicle together. Not because it was a small group, but because one of us had a vehicle that was big enough to accommodate us all.

Also, in anticipation of this event, I actually put myself through a training of sorts. In order to prepare for the hours of dancing I rode a stationary bike everyday the week leading up to our big night out. I had to build up some stamina. I didn't want to be embarrassed from becoming winded after dancing to two songs, or from clutching the back of my thigh screaming "I'm cramping!"

Next, was the fact that I did not bring a purse. I believe this is due to the fact that my kids are getting older and I don't feel the need to be overly prepared for everything. Plus, some of my friends still do have very small children. This translates to them having enormous purses which are more than capable of handling the few items I would like to take with me.

Also noticeably absent was the one lady that may have overindulged a bit too much. Either that or we have just become professionals at getting our drink on. No more holding someones hair while they puke, or dragging them off the dance floor because they are making a spectacle of themselves. If you were to look up the term "cock block" in the urban dictionary you would see that it gives a perfect description of the role of an inebriated woman's girlfriends. Gone are the days of having to form a virtual "shield" around a drunk friend on the dance floor to prevent her from falling victim to the guy that combs the bar looking for easy prey. Friends don't let friends get dry humped.

We've also become quite skilled at the art of avoiding a hangover. The key ingredients include a hearty helping of greasy food on the way home, a full glass of water, and two aspirin. Sunday morning we are up, dressed, the kids are fed, and we are on our way to church. We are practically professionals at this.

So ladies, if it's been a while since you've gotten together with your lady pals, what are you waiting for? It's a necessity. Plan something soon, it's good for the soul. Plus, don't forget to invite me...Of course my only motive is to gather material for my blog. Yeah, that's it. I like to think of myself as an investigative journalist...

Pluck Off

I'm having grooming issues. Not hygiene issues, grooming issues. I do shower. Although, what was once an everyday occurrence of showering is now an every other day event...at night...when the kids are asleep. I try occasionally to shower during the day but unless the kids are tied up engrossed in something on television they tend to get themselves in trouble. Case in point, my last "day shower" afforded my children some time to create a hockey rink by spraying my hardwood floor with sunscreen and sliding around on it in their socks. Creative, I know, but I still can't walk over that spot without almost breaking my neck...all due to my five minute shower faux pas.

Back to the topic at hand...grooming. I have eyebrows that are out of control. I say "eyebrows" as if I have two, however this is not the case. If I could give you a visual it's as if a furry caterpillar has crawled above my eyes and made itself at home. Sexy, I know. Waxing is out at the moment since the kids are home for the summer and I would rather shave my eyebrows off than take them with me to the salon. I can't pluck them for the same reason I can't shower during the day. I realize this is something I could do when they go to bed, but I prefer to use that time to try and relax. Ripping hair that is millimeters from my eyeballs is not something I would consider relaxing. Just the thought of it makes me tear up a little. Who decided that the grooming of eyebrows was to be our cultural norm anyway? Surely it was a man. Why don't they have to do it? I mean, besides for Metro Sexuals? I'm glad my husband doesn't bother with his because I would be pissed if his looked better than mine. I will eventually succumb to the pressures of society and tidy them up...just before the next girl's night out. Gotta look good for the ladies.

The other area where grooming has gone by the wayside, is in maintaining these fricken gray hairs that seem to multiply on an hourly basis. Those of you with blond hair can firmly plant a wet, juicy kiss on my right ass cheek. I'm not jealous of blonds in general...although I would love to have "blond moments" to blame for some of the stupid shit that I do. I just find it a little unfair that gray hairs on a blond are not as noticeable as on someone with black hair, like myself. When I get a gray it stands out like a white guy in a rap contest. My solution? Pluck them. That's right people, I pluck the shit out of those little wiry suckers. The idea that five more will grow in it's place is total bullshit. I mean, it's not like a bunch grow in where I pluck...wait a minute...son of a bitch! I'm going to be either bald or completely gray if I don't stop!!

I guess I will have to settle for the alternative...dyeing it myself. Again, the salon is out. I'll go out and buy one of those dye kits for a couple of bucks. I'm not sure why I feel like I will save money using these things. I have ruined every t-shirt I own...in addition to shower curtains, bath rugs, towels and, on one occasion, a light fixture. Who knew black dye would take on frosted glass. This chick does now. You would think by now I would know enough to designate a shirt to use when I dye my hair...or to throw a tarp down in the bathroom. I'll just chalk it up to a "blond moment". That's right all you blond bitches, I'm stealing it anyway. Oops! Sorry about that outburst...I must be wearing my "bitter pants" today.

So again my hubby makes out like a bandit. No eyebrow grooming or gray concealing, on top of not having to push giant baby heads from his privates (bitter pants talking again). In fact, he looks pretty sexy with his sprinkling of gray hair. Funny, a man grays and looks "distinguished". A woman grays and may not look it but certainly feels "old baggish". I guess I'll have to distract my husband from my unibrow and graying hair with some mind-blowing sex. Then again, that would lead to additional grooming that I would rather not discuss here...

Operation: Vacation

Ahh yes, family vacation time. Time to relax...well, for everyone but mommy. Of course there were times during vacation when I could sit back and relax (like when the kids were sleeping), but for the most part it wasn't much different from being at home for me. I find it funny that it takes me forever to pack for a trip that is within my state (the smallest state in the US mind you). Every year we spend a week with my father-in-law at his house on the beach. I usually take my time over a couple of days to pack things but lately we've been leaving the day after our 4th of July block party. I spent so much time preparing for said party, that I couldn't pack. Then the day we were to leave I had to clean and pack at the same time. I am usually an excellent multi-tasker, however I may have had a little too much fun at the party because it felt like a drummer was performing a solo in my head all day. Plus it was 90 degrees and humid. In hind sight that was probably a good thing since it helped me sweat out some of the alcohol. Anywho...we left a lot later than I had planned and ended up arriving at the beach house at 8pm.

The first thing I did was stop to get food for the kids to eat on the ride down since I was going to have to unpack all the stuff I just packed and I didn't want to add cooking to my "to do" list. Once we were all settled in I decided I should probably eat something. I grabbed some leftovers from the party that were in a tupperware and threw it in the microwave. Just as I sat down to eat it my oldest son looked at me and said "I think I am going to be sick". I jumped up, grabbed him, and ran with him to the bathroom. We made it just in time. I stood there with one arm wrapped around his chest, squaring him with the toilet, tupperware in the other hand, while he threw up. Now, before I had kids the sight of someone vomiting would make me sick too. But now, it's just another day as a mom. When he finished, I brought him to a recliner, covered him and he fell asleep. Had this happened earlier in my journey through mommy hood, it may have warranted a trip to the ER. I once called 911 for a high fever only to be rushed, by ambulance, to the hospital where they administered Tylenol and sent us home. Live and learn, I guess.

With one son settled in for the night, I sat down and tried to finish (or actually start) eating my food. Again, in the past I would never have been able to eat after watching a projectile vomiting episode. Now that's just for amateurs. As soon as I raised the fork to my mouth my youngest yelled from the bathroom "Mom! I need help! Oh shit, he's throwing up too. I set my food down this time and headed for the bathroom. When I opened the door I found him bent over, ass in the air. "Wipe my butt, I pooped". Super. By the way, this wasn't going to stop me from eating either.

The rest of the week was quite enjoyable. We spent hours on the beach swimming, and playing in the sand. There weren't anymore vomiting episodes, although I did occasionally assume the role of "ass wiper". I'm sure my hubby enjoyed himself too. There was no shortage of scantly clad, hot bodied ladies bouncing around in the waves. The surf was pretty rough and I'm sure he witnessed the occasional "nip slip". Oh well...it kind of reminded me of that commercial for Corona, when the girl squirts lime juice in her man's eyes for ogling the women. The only difference is if I had a lime I may have squirted it in my own eyes. They were making me ill. Weird...this was something that could cause me to vomit. I missed by pre-baby body and the ability to wear a bikini.

For every bikini body on the beach, there were five that should not have been wearing bikinis...but they were anyway. By mid week I thought...Screw it, I have a bikini and I'm going to wear it. Well technically it's a bikini top, and a skirted bottom...or what I like to refer to as the "Momkini". I probably should have thought that through a bit more. My stomach hadn't seen the light of day in quite some time. Even with sunscreen my mid section got torched. Let me add that I NEVER burn. I have very dark skin (everywhere that gets exposed to the sun on a regular basis). I don't know how people with fair skin do it. I can't remember the last time I was in so much pain (aside from the day after the party). It was still bright red three days later. Needless to say, it will be years before I expose it again, if ever. It also was not a good idea to wear that top in the heavy surf. I was guilty of numerous "nip slips" myself. Another reason to retire the "Momkini" on the family vacation.

While we were there we were able to have a date night. We hit a little bar near the beach and it was packed. There was a large group celebrating someones 21st birthday. I felt really old. I just wanted to have a few beers and play some pool and these "kids" were hogging all the tables. They were also obnoxiously drunk and screaming the lyrics to every song. I thought...Wow, did we look like that when we were their age? Then I realised that we look like them now when we go out with our friends. The bartender informed us that the beer we were drinking was only $5 for a pitcher. Why not...we could handle a couple of pitchers. Finally, a table opened up and we went over to start playing. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that a group of youngins kept looking at me and talking amongst themselves. At first I thought maybe I was just being paranoid, but after a few more drinks I started to get pissed off. What the hell are they looking at? Just let one of those little bitches say something to me (Obviously, beer balls were in full effect). When my husband went to get us another pitcher, one of them started walking toward me while the others looked on. Oh, here we go...I'm too old for this shit. She walked up and said " I love your shirt, it's such a pretty color and it makes you look so tan!" Whew... "Oh, thank you honey" I replied. "I got it at Target for $10". They were young but I'm sure they were well aware of the unspoken rule of revealing the location of purchase as well as the price whenever complimented. Now at ease, I could drink and play a few more games. We had a great time. On the way back to the beach house we talked about taking a walk down to the beach. However, when I walked in I settled into a recliner and passed out. I have now added draft beer to my date night nemesis...Taco Bell.

Overall, we had a great time. The kids also learned some very valuable lessons. For example, beer goes in the blue cooler (B in B). Also, there is no distracting mommy and daddy while we are mini golfing. Little do they know we have naughty "wages" set in place for the winner. One day they may read this and realize why it was such serious business...then they will probably vomit.

Welcome To My Life

Whenever I talk to another parent I find myself saying this phrase all the time; "Welcome to my life". The common theme in these conversations tends to be how simple life used to be before children, yet we didn't realize at the time how good we had it. Now that my kids are home for the summer I really get to see how difficult the simplest tasks have become. Don't get me wrong, I love spending time with them. But it is amusing to me that my days are filled with trying to answer questions like: "Mommy, how do chicks get in the egg shells without cracking them?" or "How come it makes a bubble when I fart in the tub?" They are funny little guys filled with curiosity and I love them to death, but I can't help but reminisce about the days when the little things in life weren't such a chore. Here are some examples:

Using the telephone

Then: Pick up the phone, dial, talk, hang up. Simple.

Now: Pick up the phone, dial and start fielding an on slot of questions that can't possible wait until I am off the phone. "Mommy, mommy...ANSWER ME MOMMY" It's like they have some sort of sixth sense when it comes to my needing to make a phone call. No matter where they are or what they are doing they come running as soon as I dial and are not satisfied until I have asked the person I am speaking with to hold on for a second so I can beat them tell them to shut it through painfully clenched teeth. Wow, using the phone used to be so easy...

Using the bathroom

Then: Well this was never at any point in my life considered a luxury before now. Whenever I needed to go I went. Simple.

Now: Whenever I have to go to the bathroom I try to sneak away without getting caught. It never works. As soon as I close the door and sit down (if I make it that far) the knocking starts...."Mommy, what are you doing?"..."I'm using the bathroom"..."No, I mean are you pooping or peeing?"... "Never mind buddy, just let mommy have some private time". Apparently that translates to open the door and join me. I know what you're thinking, just lock the door, right? Well I would but unfortunately they both know how to pop the lock from the outside so it doesn't matter. Now here I am, sitting on the toilet with an audience. "So are you pooping or peeing?"... "Peeing, OK"..."Oh, how come you have to sit down to pee?"..."Well mommy can't stand up like you"..."Oh, did your pee-pee fall off?"..."No, just please leave so mommy can finish". Wow, using the bathroom used to be so easy...

Going to the store

Then: Walk in, leisurely browse, find what I need, pay, leave. Simple.

Now: Just knowing that I have to take them both in a store gives me heartburn. Every store has so many distractions for them that I feel like I am herding cattle all the way through. It seems like everything I need to get is at the back of the store and we have to walk thorough aisles filled with things they feel we need to have. "Hey mom, look at these light bulbs...we need light bulbs right?"..."No, now put that down and keep walking please."..."But look, there are some paint brushes over here...we need some right?"..."No, I just need one thing and I know where it is, please keep moving"..."But look, they have trash bags...do we need.." "NO...KEEP WALKING SO I CAN GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!" Then of course I get all the shocked looks from people passing by. I'm sure they are thinking that I need to have more patience. That's fine because I am thinking they should mind their own fucking business. Let me add that the person that decided to put all the snacks and little toys at the check out counter should be shot. Sure I can use them as a bribe to get them to behave. "If your good, you pick something at the check out". But lets face it, even if they haven't been good, I'll probably end up buying something for them anyway just to avoid the full blown tantrum that will ensue if I refuse. Wow, going to the store used to be so easy...

Going to the beach

Then: Roll out of bed around 10:00am, decide I should go the the beach, grab a towel, stop for an iced coffee, get on the beach, read Cosmo from cover to cover, flip, pass out for a few hours, go home. Simple.

Now: Packing must start the night before. This will include enough snacks to feed a small village, 20 juice boxes, a thousand toys, pails, shovels, and trucks, 4 types of sunscreen, an umbrella, and a chair for me that I probably won't get to sit in. An alarm has to be set to get up early and pack the cooler, car, and to slather them from head to toe in sunscreen. I also need to set aside some time to make them sit on the toilet and try to poop because if they have to go when we get there it will be a nightmare (I have never needed to worry about another person's bodily functions before now, I might add). We are on the road by 7:30am (I can't possibly sit in beach traffic with 2 kids and no AC). The day is spent stressing over them going too deep in the water, or getting knocked down by a wave. I have to reapply sunscreen every hour on the hour to avoid any burns. They eat constantly and fight with any child that attempts to touch their toys.  After all this "fun" I have to hose them off before putting them in my car because they have sand in every crevice of their body. Wow, going to the beach used to be so easy...

Even blogging has changed since my kids are out of school. I used to be able to write a little here and there while they were at school. Now, as soon as I get on the computer they are crawling all over me; "Whatcha doin?"..."Can you go to Nick Jr.?"..."Where is the letter S". I guess it's better than trying to blog while they are "busy". This usually means they are writing on something they shouldn't be, filling water balloons and dumping water all over my bathroom floor, or peeing in the tub instead of using the toilet. Ugh...my blogs may have to be shortened versions throughout the summer just to avoid disaster. Wait a minute...Shit! I have to go...they are somewhere being quiet!!

We've Come a Long Way Baby

This month my husband and I celebrated our eight year anniversary. What?...Wait a minute...eight years?!? I can't believe it's been that long. It feels like I was just stressing out over all the details of the wedding. Where will the reception be? What color will the bridesmaids wear? What will the menu consist of? Ha! I thought these were things to stress about! Little did I know that getting married was the easy part. It's staying married that's tough.

I won't say that I know any secrets to sustaining a marriage. Sure there are things that help make it work, but I guarantee if you were to ask men and women what they think are the keys to a great marriage they would differ greatly. Women would say things like; you need to have trust, honesty, and patience. Men would say you need to have sex, sex, and more sex. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. I have to disagree and say that the route is more likely through his penis. Sure, sex is a huge part of sustaining a relationship with your partner but pre marriage sex and post marriage sex are quite different. Especially when kids enter the picture.

When my husband and I first started dating we could have sex whenever and wherever we felt like it. We were carefree. Now...not so much. It has almost become like a planned "event". "How does a week from Thursday work for you?" Naughty bedroom talk has been replaced with things like: "Are you sure they are sleeping?", "Is their door closed?", "Did you lock our door?", "OK, let's get this show on the road...I have to get up early and pack lunches...and I have a ton of laundry to do". Pretty hot, I know. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't enjoy it. It's just that it's not as easy to focus on it when I'm constantly worried that we are going to get caught...again.

It frustrates men that women don't need sex as often as they do. I asked my husband once how he would feel if our relationship would stay strong if we regularly ate ice cream together. He likes to have ice cream occasionally but he wouldn't really notice if he went without it for a while. I, on the other hand, LOVE ice cream. I could eat it everyday. It probably won't seem fair to him if I thought we needed to have ice cream together a few times a week in order for our marriage to work. It's not that we have completely different priorities, I feel that being intimate with your partner can make the relationship stronger, but I tend to not really notice if it's been a while since we've done the "deed". I guarantee at any given time if I ask my husband when the last tine we have sex was he could tell me the date, and could probably give me the literal answer including the actually time. Sometimes I'll notice he's a bit moody and think...Hmm, when was the last time we had sex? It has been a while, maybe I should throw him a bone. Well technically I guess he would be throwing me a bone, but I digress.

I've been trying to spice things up a bit. Once in a while we will exchange some naughty texts, or perhaps even a picture here and there. This scares the hell out me though. I am still technologically challenged and panic as soon as I hit the send button. I sent that to the right person right? Oh crap...what if I didn't? I'm going to end up on the Internet. I am well known for making these types of blunders amongst my work friends. Once I sent the following picture to a lawyer that I was working with by mistake:



I added: "Wow, this guys pretty excited about the weather!". Luckily he had a good sense of humor and laughed about it. Now you see why I am leery about sending things to my hubby.

I feel lucky to be married to a man that I trust. Infidelity has never been issue for us. Sure, it may have something to do with the scare tactic I've used on him...telling him if I ever found out he cheated I would end up being compared to Lorena Bobbitt. Honestly, I don't worry about him as much as I worry about the women out there who enjoy the thrill of being with a married man. It pisses me off to hear stories about women who want a married man because they have a wife that will cook and clean and take care of the kids and they don't have to do these things for them. They just have sex with them and then send them back home to their wives. Really? To me, that would be like going to work everyday and then someone else gets your paycheck. I'll be damned if some bitch is going to make me do all the work and then she gets the reward. Mama wants her reward. If that means I need to move sex up my priority list, so be it. What's important to him should be important to me.

Maybe I can accommodate both of our favorite things into one...Sex immediately followed by ice cream. Then everyone wins. Plus we all know what would happen if I were to eat before...

The Perils of Date Night

My husband and I will be married for eight years this summer. Those of you with children know that they make it difficult to have quality time with your spouse. I’m very fortunate that my mom takes my kids overnight, affording us the ability to have "date night". However, it seems the opportunity sometimes brings disaster. For example; two of my last date nights started with my four year old falling into a frozen pond (it was only three inches deep where he went through...but still) and my having to perform the Heimlich maneuver on my six year old. These are not the ideal conditions for me to try and focus on my husband. I spent the evenings re- living the events the whole time and thinking of the worst case scenario for each. All I could see was my six year gasping for air while I practically broke his ribs desperately trying to remove the lodged food item. What if I hadn’t been in the room when it happened? Then there was the vision of my other son falling in a pond that was over his head and being carried away under the ice by the current..."I'm sorry, what honey?...Were you saying something?"...

In order to establish why date night has become so important to us, I have to start with a really embarrassing story...

A few months back my husband and I were caught "in the act" by our six year son. Let me apologize in advance because this may trigger a painful memory for most of you. I will never forget the time that I walked in on my parents doing "the deed". Granted, at the time I wasn’t sure what I had just witnessed. I believe the same applies to my son. He has never asked about the birds and the bees, and I have adopted my own version of the policy "Don’t ask, Don’t tell". I feel really horrible about this though because I know there will come a time when he does learn the facts and this image will enter his mind again- and haunt him for the rest of his life. I can picture him coming home from school the first day of Sex Ed; wide eyed and despondent. Oh crap...he knows. "What’s up Buddy?"..."How was school today?" Unable to even look at me he’ll say "Umm, I think I’m going to go to my room". There he will stay, curled in the fetal position, trying like hell to make the image go away. Sorry pal, speaking from experience I know it will never go away. Poor kid.

Well, needless to say this "event" has made me very uncomfortable. It’s difficult to be intimate when I carry around the constant fear that I will be busted by my own kid. I’m also trying to save my youngest from a lifelong crippling image of his own.

Date nights that begin without potentially life threatening drama tend to have a common sequence of events. As with girl’s night out, I tend to go through hours of preparation. I’ll ask my husband his opinion on outfit and shoe selection usually to get an answer like "I don’t care, whatever you think". Alrighty then. "How should I wear my hair...up or down?" "Umm, whichever one takes less time to do" Super, thanks babe. At least we will be meeting other couples when we go out and the women there will tell me how great I look.

We usually meet our friends that have also had the good fortune of obtaining a babysitter out for some drinks and to see a band. After drinking and dancing all night we get in the car, I turn to my husband and say "I’m hungry". Let me add that the act of eating after a night of drinking always has the same result for me- instant coma. He doesn’t have to ask what I want because the answer is always the same; Taco Bell, of course!

My husband has a love/hate relationship with Taco Bell. Loves the food...hates my taco induced coma. Nevertheless, we find ourselves at the drive thru at 1am ordering "the usual". This consists of three items for me and sixteen for him. As we approach the window I notice the totals for the cars in front of us; $2.35, $4.65...then we get up there and the total is $34.50. WTF? How is that possible at an establishment where the average cost of a menu item is 89 cents? Oh well, I’d pay $50 for that beefy, crunchy deliciousness.

As soon as we get home we start digging in. My eyes grow heavier with each bite I take. As the darkness starts to take hold of me I hear my husband say something like "You look beautiful tonight", but it’s too late...I’m out.

I usually wake up around 4am, a half eaten taco on my lap, still sitting up on the couch. I brush the cheese that has spilled out of my taco off my lap and do the walk of shame up to my bedroom where my husband is asleep..."Curse you Taco Bell!!"

I have promised to make a conscience effort not to fall into the hands of my nemesis (Taco Bell) on our next date night. I will heed the words of my friends as they grab my face and look in my eyes on the way out of the bar saying "NO Taco Bell!...Taco Bell BAD!". I will go straight home with my hubby and show him how much I love him without any fear of being caught by our kids. When we are done I will jump up, get dressed and run for the Border!!

"When I Was Your Age..."

I try not to say that very often, but I find myself doing so on a regular basis lately. I’m not sure why I bother because even my oldest son Devin, who is 6, can’t fathom the thought that I was EVER his age, or anything other than “old”. As he’s learning about history he asks me for first hand accounts on each event. Having him insist that I had some hand in the discovery of America can be frustrating. My children also have trouble understanding that I wasn’t always a Mommy. I heard Devin explain to his younger brother once that they were both in my belly when I was little. When I was “ready” I told Devin to come out, and then called Connor out two years later. I’m not prepared to explain the actual process to either of them yet, nor suggest that their father had a hand in “calling them out”. The fact of the matter is I WAS once a child. Watching them grow up often makes me think back to my own childhood. They are growing up in such a different time than I did. This is the reason behind the constant repeating of the phrase “When I was your age”…..

The access to information for my children’s generation is instantaneous. Gone are the days of wondering things like “what is the name of that song?”…Let’s face it; there was a time when a simple question like that could haunt you. It could fester in your mind for days, or even weeks, before you mentioned it to someone that could remember the name and relieve you from the agony. Now, you can “Google it” and find the name, artist, and the year it was recorded. Even the way they listen to music is different. They have Ipods and CD players. Back in my day it was the good old cassette player. Our “portable” devices where “boom boxes” that weighed 30 lbs. To be fair, we did also have smaller hand held cassette players, but they were not very discreet considering the head phones looked like ear muffs. If I wanted to listen to a particular song I could pop in my cassette and pray that I had listened to that song recently. Otherwise, I got to play an hour long game of rewind, stop, play… rewind, stop, play… oops I passed it…fast forward, stop, play…is this the song I wanted? Oh forget it! Not my kids. Find the song on your handy little touch screen, click on it, hear it. These devices hold thousands of songs by various artists. A cassette held a maximum of twelve songs by one artist, unless of course someone had performed the tedious task of making a “mix tape” for you. My favorites were the ones that had a DJ talking over the first few seconds of the songs because they were recorded directly from the radio. We were such rebels. The music has changed drastically also. I don’t remember hearing songs that contained language that I needed to be sheltered from. I am all for freedom of speech, and tend to resist censorship, however as a parent it has become very difficult. Having my kids listen to my Ipod and scream the lyrics of “Crazy Bitch” may have something to do with that….

There was also a time when television shows had to be viewed when they were actually airing (crazy, I know). My kids have the ability to watch any show they want, whenever they want. They can also rewind and pause live TV. They drive me crazy when they pause commercials to come and get me (usually from the bathroom) so I will know which toy to put on their list for Santa. When I was a child I could not wait for Saturday mornings because I could watch cartoons. My kids watch cartoons whenever they feel like it. If it isn’t something they have recorded with the DVR, they can use features such as “On Demand” to locate the show and watch it. I’ve come to dislike that feature; don’t get me wrong it is very convenient, it may just be in the name. I hate feeling like my kids are “demanding” anything.

I’m not exactly sure at what point in my life the internet became mainstream, but I do recall that when it did, it was certainly not accessed as quickly as it is today. “High Speed Internet” deserves its title since dial up connection was painfully slow. While trying to research something online with dial up I could have started logging on, gone to the library, found the information that I needed, came back, had a snack, and would still be waiting for the connection to be completed. Now I wouldn’t even need my computer to access that same information. I could get it through my cell phone. Cell phones were once the size of a small shoe box, and I didn’t know many people that owned one growing up. EVERYONE has a cell phone now, including many children. I’m not sure when I will be ready to get them for my children. Right now it’s due to the fact that anything costing more than $20 tends to end up being destroyed in a very short period of time. It’s very frustrating because I bet I could find toys that they got in a kids meal from Burger King a year ago that are in pristine condition. I’m also leery to create additional people in the world that use cell phones as their only form of communication. Texting has become the new form of “talking”. I often find myself stuck in the back and forth of a text conversation thinking “why don’t I just call them?” Then there are the people who go through life, coming face to face with others throughout the day, yet they can’t hang up the phone and stop their conversation with someone else. I find myself listening to one sided conversations everywhere. If your going to talk on the phone in the middle of a doctor’s office while everyone is sitting their listening, at least put the other person on speaker phone so we can hear both sides….

In this new technologically advanced generation I will be faced with the daunting task of raising children that will be capable of healthy human interactions outside of all this newfangled equipment. I will have to teach them basic things like eye contact when speaking to someone, or at least the courtesy of turning off all the other distractions when someone addresses them. It is important that they know about the “reply all” button on email and the need to double check the recipients of emails prior to sending them (this is something I’ve had to learn the hard way). I hope to help them understand that they shouldn’t “say” something in a text or email message that they wouldn’t say to someone’s face. When they are older I may also have to teach them the dangers of “drunk texting”. In addition, it is going to be very difficult to get them to grasp the concept of having patience. They have never had to wait for anything in their lives. I have always wondered who has the ability to name generations. I’m not even sure which generation I would be considered from. I would strongly suggest to whatever entity has this ability that they name my children’s the “Instant Gratification Generation”.