Monday, February 28, 2011

I am old. Send Metamucil and Life Alert necklace please.

Blaine.

Blaine.

Oh, how I love thee Blaine.  BUT.  Really?

The other day my incredible son comes to me holding his coin jar.  The coin jar is our random reward/punishment system.  My kid doesn't get an allowance, he gets random change or dollars for being caught doing good.  He also gets money removed when he's a shmuck.  The randomness of it all works for us, because it eliminates the pretending to be good to earn an allowance.  He's allowed to spend the money on anything he wants  (within reason, I draw the line at hookers and blow).  We love the coin jar.

So, he walks into the living room with the coin jar and I'm expecting him to tell me that he's got enough money for a new DS game or some other thing he likes (Bakugan?  WTF is Bakugan and why didn't I come up with this money-making bullshit?).  Instead, Blaine tells me that he would like to know how much money he needs to start his own bank account!  Be still my heart!  My 8 year old boy is fiscally responsible!  I am awesome mom!  I have taught my 3rd grader the power of money and savings and planning and...no.

Blaine then explains to me that he wants to get his own bank account so that he can get his own credit card so that he can buy his own membership on National Geographic's Animal Jam because I refuse to do that for him.

Stupid f'ing Animal Jam.  I've had to make up rules about Animal Jam.  Like "no talking about Animal Jam while we are in the car" and "no talking about Animal Jam while we are in the house"  and "no talking about Animal Jam while we are in a restaurant".   Basically, no talking about Animal Jam at all.  Ever.   I HATE Animal Jam. HATE HATE HATE.  Did you know that alligators and bears can get married on Animal Jam?  Did you know that you can shop at the store if you collect enough crap on Animal Jam?  Did you know you can "chat" with your friends on Animal Jam?  I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANIMAL JAM.  ANIMAL JAM IS THE DEBIL!

He's 8.  And he wants a credit card to chat with friends on the computer.  Oh, and he wants a Facebook page so he can post status updates.  What would he have to update?  "finished homework.  Am going to pick nose now"  or "Farted and blamed it on Kyra.  She hit me".  A friend of mine told me this weekend that his son, who is in 4th grade, has a Facebook page.  The friend logged on to his son's page to check it out and died laughing when he saw that his son was "in a relationship" and then changed it to "it's complicated".  What's complicated about a relationship in 4th grade?  Did the recess bell ring before you got a chance to punch her in the arm and give her cooties?

I have decided that I am just old.  OLD.  Fuddy.Duddy.  But I'm still the mom.  So there will be no 8 year old with a credit card in my house.  Or Facebook pages for Elementary schoolers.  I will be crapping in my Depends adult diapers before my 3rd grader can be "an alligator in a complicated relationship with a bear on Facebook Jam."

Sunday, February 6, 2011

I am invincible. Sometimes.

In the past 18 months:

1. I learned that I can connect wirey/wireless/electrical things like internets and TVs and Wiis and they work!  Reading directions (and when all else fails, calling tech support) really pays off!  All of those things I never thought I could do?  I did.
2. I rebuilt an entertainment center that had been completely dismantled and shipped from my home in Oman.  I did not have the directions and bolts had gone missing during the packing/shipping process so I went to the hardware store and bought replacements ALL BY MYSELF.
3. I taught myself how to refinish furniture and did a dresser and a bed for my daughter's room.
4. I bought a tent and went camping.  Twice.  Once just with Blaine and the second time with Blaine and Kyra (the deepwoods diva!).  It went well enough that I think we can keep doing it.  (Damn you Cub Scouts!)  My idea of roughing it is staying at a Holiday Inn.  I hope my kids appreciate my sacrifice.

I also kill and dispose of bugs, fish hairbrushes out of toilets, take out garbage, check the air pressure in my tires, get my oil changed on a regular basis and a thousand other small, seemingly insignificant tasks.  All things that I never cared to do and never really had to do because there was always someone else to do it for me.  But now I do these things for myself and for my kids and I have found that I really don't mind.  Sure sometimes it's a real drag (really kids how did the hairbrush end up in the toilet???) and sometimes it is frustrating, but overall what I end up with each time I attempt something new is a sense of pride and accomplishment.  Each time something works (Hello wireless internet!  I never knew how you worked before!)  I gain a little confidence.

However, there are some things that I will not do.  For example, taxes.  Taxes are the reason God invented accountants.  I also cannot figure out how to build a pinewood derby car (again, damn you Cub Scouts!).  How am I supposed to turn a block of wood into a race car?  Power tools?  What?  Wheels and axles and graphite and weight ratios and calibration...whoops, my head just exploded.

I'm now thinking about buying or possibly building a home.  My mom is a realist and keeps informing me of all the negatives/realities of home ownership.  Like stuff breaking.  Water leaking.  Lawn mowers.  But I really feel like I can  handle it.  Sure, it's nice to be able to make a call and have maintenance come out and fix stuff for free, but the trade off is not feeling like this place is mine and if I want to paint the walls red and tear out the carpet and put down tile I can.  I want that.  I want the ownership. I want to be able to say "This is mine.  I made this happen.  Me." 

Blaine just wants me to buy a house so he can have a dog.  Hey, we all have our priorities.