Elisa's Journal

Especially you moms out there--do you ever forget to eat? I guess since this end of the school year lunacy has made me try to cram 40 hours of work into a 24 hour day, it slips (what's left of) my mind. Sure, I eat one of those cottage cheese/fruit combos every morning, even when my kids turn up their noses, make gagging sounds, and make the point that it looks alot like still steamy cat vomit. And then there's my Diet Coke. But something happens between breakfast and dinner. I think it's a time warp thing happening but I wouldn't know since Einstein and Carl Sagan aren't readily available to answer that question. Around four or so, I feel the only thing touching the back of my spine is the three inch layer of fat that has become my stomach. The churning noses are loud enough to irritate the neighbors, let alone my own family. At times, I resort to some animal crackers or Wheat Thins, only to be admonished for "spoiling my dinner." Course I make up for it on the weekends by grazing continuously from sunup to way past sundown. Not exactly the health habits I teach my family and patients, but, heck, what's a mom to do? Does Diet Coke count as lunch, guys?

Have a memorable Memorial Day Weekend

xo

drmedhus

Posted by elisa at 08:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I don't know why kids bother gong to school the last two weeks. Mine have had NO homework (lucky for me, because the 4th grade stuff is getting way too complicated for my feeble mind!) Plus, I have to be alert to certain notices in their back packs like "Bring pillow and snack" "bring board game" "bring popcorn." Hey what about the Chippendale Boys--can't we bring them for entertainment?

Why do these notices often escape me? Because the last three months of school, it takes an act of extreme courage on my part to peer into that dark hole with gun and flashlight, skirting nervously past moldy sandwich crumbs, library books from the year before, lint covered Life Savers, unsigned teacher notes and tests from December, and 67 pounds of Valentines Day cards left unopened due to lack of candy. I'm trying to turn over a new leaf, though. Just bracing myself for the feat. Of course I fully expect to be awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for placing myself in great danger all in the line of duty. I think the teachers probably deserve that medal more, though. I can just envision them twitching uncontrollably behind their desks, uttering nervous squeaks, rubbing prayer beads, and crossing themselves as they plead to whatever God they worship to spare them that last frayed nerve in the throes of death. Hmm. That explains the lack of work. I asked my kids if they wanted to skip the last few days but NOOO. After all, it's not often they can play all day at school.

Posted by elisa at 08:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I get so tickled by some of the things my kids say or write. The other day, Annika was going over her camp packing list. SHe's nine years old, but this will be the longest time she's been away from us--a whole week. I don't doubt, as per her insistance, that she can handle it. It's just going to be hard on me, really. When I finally convinced myself that it was time to let go for that long, I read the packing list and see that she's added "toilet tree kit." When Lukas was 10, we discovered he called ear lobes "ear loafs." Erik consistently wrote down "oak milk" on the grocery list instead of "oat meal." When Lukas sang "This land is my land; this land is your land," he'd sing "I saw a puppy" instead of "I saw above me." I just think it all shows the innocence and inexperience of children. Plus, it makes me feel alot smarter. Course that'll all change when they all hit teenage years. Then, my IQ will plummet by 30 points and they'll be wiping drool from the corner of my mouth.

Posted by elisa at 09:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

It's official! After much delay, I actually have a copy of my third book in my hand! It's gorgeous. Very high quality. Now I guess I need to read it again so I'll know what to say in those tv and radio interviews!

On a completely different subject, I always wondered how the actors cast as the ugly, the fat or the physically imperfect character handles it. Take "Welcome to the Doll House." Now the main character was pretty homely but she was only 12! Throughout the story her homeliness is made clear. How can we do that to kids, especially when they have physical imperfections they can't change without a team of plastic surgeons the size of a football team? Sad, really.

Also, who in the heck jumps at the chance to do those herpes commercials. Or how 'bout those beautiful models with that wired pad across her upper lip to remove her moustache. As if. Same for those posed with bikini area depilatories. Here's another one. On the freeway, I pass this billboard that has a young lady with a phone headset, obviously answering phones at a switchboard. Thing is, she has a huge smile on her face. You'd think she just won the lottery. The caption: Budget Casket. We're Waiting for Your Call! Hmmm. Now that makes me feel really at ease. Hovering over me until I exhale my last breath. Um. okay. But who modeled for that one? Is she hoping that ad will be her ticket to stardom?

Come ot think of it, all these folks are probably laughing all the way to the bank, so I believe I'll sleep well tonight after all. I guess I can't be everyone's mommy, even though I'd like to be.

Posted by elisa at 09:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Any families out there willing to be on national tv? If so, take a look at these two show ideas my publicist is pitching:

I'd have the kids sit on stools in a row much like "Kid's say the Darndest Things." I'd have a couple in the 4-5 year old range, a couple in the 6-8 year old range, a couple in the 10-11 year old range and perhaps a 13-14 year old and a 16-17 year old. (8 kids more or less). The show would start with Oprah interviewing me about the concept so I can explain the basic premise, then we'd go child by child and present harmful and healthy phrases, asking them how each makes them feel (or perhaps another question, like has your mom or dad ever said this to you? (Pan in on the parent's face in the audience to get their reaction) How did that make you feel? Did it work (in phrases designed to get them to behave or do as they're asked, etc.) I'd like Oprah to do the interviewing, because I want her to feel in control of the segments. She can then ask me to comment on their responses. At the end, we thank the kids and Oprah and I would conclude with how important it is to change adult communication-how society is in the terrible shape it's in because of the legacy of adult/child communication that has been passed down for generations, and what the advantages are for making the changes I suggest.

Another show idea: I could go into someone's home for a couple of weeks, with cameramen in tow, and help guide a family in turmoil to change their communication so that all the family relationships improve, the environment becomes tranquil, the kids become better behaved and more self-assured/happy, etc. Throughout, we could interview the parents and the kids.

Posted by elisa at 09:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Well, my 9 year old, Annika, has her annual piano recital Sunday. I love watching how she's progressed, don't get me wrong, but everything else about it is a nightmare. First of all, I get so nervous for her. Why? I mean she seems cool as ice? Second, I make her sibs go with--only to rue the moment I came of with that lame thought. Last time,they were bickering and pinching and in general making complete nuisances of themselves. I felt like taking the baby grand and whopping'em upside the head with it. Then you have to sit through every rendition of Twinkle,, Twinkle Little Star and other simple songs the other kids play, only to give them each such a hearty applause you'd think they just mastered Chopin's Ballade in G Minor. Hmmm. And all for a little plastic trophy. But the smile of pride on Annika's face (and my own) makes me forget about all the little annoyances and look forward to the next year. Bravo, Annika.

Posted by elisa at 08:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Please come back shortly as we are moving Elisa Medhus's weblog to a new publishing system.

Posted by elisa at 11:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm pleased to say that Lukas, now grounding from all things tech, is back to his old self. No longer is he the glassy eyed, twitching, drooling mass of clay molded mercilessly by ones and zeros. Why is he grounded you may ask/ Because he exceeded his one hour daily allowance and lied about it. He said he was playing an electric piano when he was really at the keyboard. But now, he's the Lukas from yesteryear. He and Annika played all sorts of games. They made an 80's exercise video which consisted mostly of wearing headbands, side ways ponytails and butt wiggling, and they played spy, sneaking up on the dogs to see what dark and clandestine undercover operation they were up to, and they essentially made a mess in every square inch of the house. But that's okay. They (reluctanctly) cleaned it up at the end of the day. So a word to all paren6ts: kids need human interaction. Limit their computer time. Limit their video game time. Limit their tv time. Otherwise they turn into mindless larva wrapped in a virtual coccoon. Sure there's the mess, but no man is an island, right?

Posted by elisa at 06:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I have a confession. Please keep it to yourselves. I play little games with myself. For instance. When I flush the toilet, I have to leap out of the room before it's finished making the big whooossshhhhh sound. When I turn off or on my computer, I have to get out of the room before it makes that big annoying sound only macs can make. It's not like I think the boogey man will get me if I fail. Fortunately, I discovered some of my kids do the same thing. Is it just some genetic fluke or do you guys do the same? In my mind (what's left of it) alittle OCD is not a bad thing. Hell, I get crap done like no other. I'm the master of filing away things into neat little piles, much to the chagrin of my husband who is still in a heated search for his W-2. Plus, I haven't seen the cat for awhile. Hmmm . Oh yeah. I don't have a cat.

Has anyone read my new book yet??? Give me feedback, folks. Don't worry about my feelings. I mean, you don't have to witness the sobs, so why should you care?

Love you all

Elisa

Posted by elisa at 06:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Gone are the days when everyone took their moms out to fancy brunches, adorned them with corsages, dressed up for them in their Sunday best and showered them with drawings and coupon books. It's sad that it's become more about purchased gifts than genuine love and respect. We're a society that loves taking the path of least resistance. And it's so much easier to whip out a credit card than to spend an entire day showing appreciation, respect and love. Sign of the times?

Posted by elisa at 04:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I guess my poor little hubbie has really been stressing. I mean, it's not easy taking over a mom's job and that's exactly what he's had to do since I boogered up my foot. (Okay, look, I'm allowed to say that because, after all, I AM a Texan.) So he's been breaking all the rules in my book, Hearing is Believing. In fact, in one sentence alone I think he broke at least two per chapter. Fortunately my 9 year old daughter has read it cover to cover. With a face full of pity and a voice that would reassure a rabbit in an owl's clutches, she told him, "Don't worry, Pappa. I'll teach you how to talk."

I'm not so sure about that. The first step is getting him to read nonfiction that mentions nothing about torque, bore compression rations or closed end funds. The second step is to get him to actually follow the suggestions. Whaddya think folks? Can husbands truly learn? I hod out hope but I'm not holding my breath!

Posted by elisa at 07:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Well, today should be interesting. I havbe a speech to give at Book People in Austin this evening. Not having a huge list of potential substitute teachers to pick from, I'm going to have to homeschool the kids on the way. As if Algebra wasn't already nauseating, we're adding motion sickness to the mix. Hmmm. Plus, the event is at 7:00 PM, so with my gimpy leg, I can't drive all the way back for 3 hours the same day, so we're staying overnight at a hotel. Then I have 6 (count em 6) radio phone interviews the next day: 9ish, 10ish, 11ish, 12ish, 4ish and 7ish. Somehow I have to race back to houston between 12:30 and 4:00 to get to my phone for the fifth one. Knowing how crappy my driving baseline is, out of the goodness of my heart and a pathological sense of duty, I want to warn everyone on the road tonight:If you see a crazy woman in a gray Suburban driving well over the speed limit, wincing in pain on occasion as she frantically shifts her attention from watch to odometer to road to homeschoolers, get the hell away. Save yourself. As fast as you can. (But can you please wave or give me the thumbs up first. Or better yet, could you be the "Bandit" that sniffs out the Smokeys for me?)

Posted by elisa at 07:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Gawd, I can't wait to get this cast off. I hopefully will get fitted for a boot today. But before I put that sucker on, I'm shaving that leg! It's so hot at night and the webril dressing creeps all over the place (wiggling toes may play a part.) I'm so tired of the less-than-graceful ways in which I have to take a bath. I have to kneel with my right leg propped up on the side and wash my hair in thte faucet. To shave a leg, I have to lie down spraddle legged in a not too lady like pose. Plus, the cast slides around the outside of the tub like a hockey puck. Getting out is always good for a laugh too. The cast serves as a deadly weapon for all things in its path. I've pried the veneer off the bottom molding of my kitchen cabinets, smashed Annika's toes, and knocked over every floor lamp in the house.

On another note, Annika is still the word police in the house. Having read my latest book, Hearing is Believing, she points out our every goof. Yesterday, my husband was breaking at least two rules from every chapter. Annika patted him on the arm and, with a knowing, but condescending look, assured him, "I'll teach you how to talk, Pappa." Hmm. Waan't too long ago that the tables were turned. Actually, I'm grateful for her reminders. It's making me better at it! Personally, I think at least one kid in the family ought to read the book and be appointed word police.

Love to you all!

Posted by elisa at 08:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)