Ever wonder why kids grow up thinking they’re the center of the Universe and you are just one of the background props meant to spring into action at their beck and call? Well you ain’t alone people. I mean, sure, my kids say their pleases and thank-yous, but should that be all I should expect? Am I the eternal, loony optimists that wants them to occasionally ask me how my day went, offer to bring me an ice cold tea, massage my feet and feed me grapes? Okay, scratch the last too, but really! So I’m trying a little experiment to make them more aware of how they treat others. Sorta hoping they become more other-directed. I’m hanging a big-ass piece of butcher paper on one of the doors. Then I’m assigning a colored marker to each kid. (They don’t get to choose because, even as teenagers, they’ll do a throw-down for their favorite color.) Then, whenever they pay a compliment, make a nice offer, or do something thoughtful to another family member, they write it on the paper with their marker. Oh, and they can’t do the same thing to the same person each time, otherwise I’ll be asked how my day went thirteen thousand times a day. And it has to be a mix of words and actions. It’ll be clear at the family meetings whose color is sparse and whose is not. This way, they’ll be more aware of how they treat others and see that, when they do, their lives are better for it. Not to mention the promise of some reward for the family when the butcher paper is full. Hmm, maybe I should set a font size limit too??
Encouraging Compassion
Christmas Cards
I don’t completely get the whole Christmas card tradition. It’s gotten to be more of a compulsion based on shame more than anything else. First of all, how many of them do you read and think, “OMG, how awesome is this artistic masterpiece! I’m saving it forever in my special box of treasures.” Yeah, I didn’t think so. Hell, I don’t even recognize some of the people’s names on hte return address! Even when the card has a picture, it’s like, “nope, haven’t a clue.” Then there are the pangs of guilt when you throw them away, so I have 213 of them on my mantel for a few weeks. Trying to get them to stand up is a booger. One falls and it’s the hole house of cards stunt. I always enjoy the cards that are letters bringing me up to date on the family gossip, but the two-pagers describing everything from the new dishwasher they bought and Johnny’s 12 year-old molars finally coming in are tedious. Christmas is way to busy for me to read a letter that will be published in paperback soon. Those photo Christmas cards are cool, but I don’t like it when the photo is of the kids only. I’m like, “Are these the kids I sponsor from Children International?” “Are they orphans dropping a hint?” “Did their parents flee from home? They look like little devil.” But those pets-only pictures are the worse. I picture the sender dying at the age of 95 in a room with 5,000 cats, some of who are nibbling at fingers and toes. My biggest fear is sending a Merry Christmas card to non-Christians but I don’t keep tabs of my friends’ religion and I’m not about to buy Happy Hanukkah, Happy Jihad, Happy Hinduism, Happy Buddha, Happy Winter Solstice and Happy Kwanzaa cards too. I say we scrap the whole thing. You can always given them a Christmas Superpoke on their Facebook page.
Flu Season
The holiday season is stressful enough, the last thing we want is a sick kid with a high fever and no energy or appetite to enjoy it. What few of us know is that viruses, particularly the influenza virus, rolls into high gear and kicks major ass when the ambient temperatures drop to around 40 degrees or so. Sure, contagion spreads when we’re all inside huddled together against the wintry elements sharing spit and finger grime as lovingly as we can, but the virus has to get juiced before it travels anywhere. I bring this up because last night, Lukas (my 15 year-old) was studying World Geography with a friend when the temperatures dropped to below 40–but sans jacket. He had a short sleeve summer shirt and flip flops on. Of course we reassure ourselves with the old “he’s part Norwegian so he’s part polar bear” adage but he still had the sniffles this morning. So make sure your kiddos (and you) bundle up when it’s cold!
Medhus Family News
Okay, so there’s usually no shortage of news in our family. Usually news that involves chaos, conflagrations, and catastrophes (like my alliteration?) But this tidbit of news made my jaw go slack and my heart screech to a (temporary) halt. My 21-year old daughter and her fianc {damaged post, stay tuned!}
Pet Peeves
Please tell me it’s not just my kids who do these things. Why the hell do they cut open packages and leave the package tops in the drawer with the scissors? Why do they fail to load their dirty dishes in the sink, thinking some obsessive compulsive dish fairy is going to swoop down and do that job for them? And that anal little fairy is getting pissed because there have been a flurry of oatmeal encrusted bowls which require him/her to bring out his magical jack hammer. Why do they take their stinky sneakers off in the middle of the foyer or den when they come home from school rather than put them away where they belong? Don’t they understand kharma? They could trip over those shoes, fracture both tibias in 37 different places so that they don’t need shoes in the first place. Why do they leave the milk out instead of putting it back in the fridge? They never do that with soft drinks and gatorade. Why do kids (and husbands) use the “soaking technique” when it’s their turn to wash the dinner dishes? Don’t they know how transparent they are? It doesn’t take a genius to see this ploy as a desperate hope or a game of chicken which will lead to (who else) me doing them at 11:30 at night. (Actually, that would be me in a perfect world, but June Cleaver I ain’t. They can soak until the designs wear off or the cows come home, which ever comes first.) Placate my frustration. Send me your own personal peeves.