Blog: May 2007
The Knitter
I don?t know how it happened, but my daughter has decided to delve into some old fashioned pursuits that I never thought would hold her interest. You see, when I was growing up, I was a tomboy?loved to climb trees, build things, play sports, if my brother was leading a brigade through the woods where they planned to set fire to a pile of leaves, I was right there, front and center, holding the bucket of water to extinguish the flames. As a result, cooking and crocheting weren?t two very popular activities in my household. But somehow, right under my nose, while I write about how I am an awful cook and can?t knit to save my life, my daughter has taken it upon herself to tackle those skills instead.
She first enrolled in an afterschool cooking class and proceeded to tell her instructor that I once set fire to our oven and that I?m a pretty bad cook. The teacher smiled at me, laughed and responded, ?What?s shared in class, stays in class.? Besides, I haven?t set fire to the oven once ? it?s actually happened about five times ? not including the one time I created a steak inferno inside my barbecue.
As for knitting, I never had the patience for crochet. My grandmother, however, could knit like an athlete and pretty much made dozens of blankets, gloves, sweaters ? whenever she was sitting down, Grandma was knitting. She also made hook rugs, was pretty proficient at needlepoint and I?m sure there were other knitting projects she was into, I just didn?t pay attention because I was too busy catching frogs and salamanders in the backyard. When I got older, I do remember buying a needle point that I planned to tackle once my cousin was born. Unfortunately, the project still hasn?t been finished and my cousin is approaching her 17th birthday and I don?t think she?s into Winnie the Pooh anymore.
Rebecca on the other hand, is totally into knitting too. Her friend turned her onto it and now she?s asking me to enroll her in a crochet class in the fall. Okay?that?s too weird. My daughter cooks and knits like my grandma. Strange, considering she?s named after her ? maybe there?s actually a part of my grandmother in Becca. People have always told me she?s an old soul, so you never know.
Meanwhile, at work, my boss calls me ?the knitter.? Not because I know anything about mastering the art of macramé, but I?m the person in my department who knits together various divisions of our company to make our publicity campaigns larger than life. If I were a man, I?d be a synergist, but instead, like Grandma Moses, I?m the resident knitter. Maybe that?s why I?m so averse to the whole knitting and cooking thing. While I?m taken aback by these old-fashioned references, my daughter, meanwhile, is completely jazzed about crocheting a sweater or cooking up a soufflé.
Even odder, are the legions of moms that I?ve encountered in my neighborhood who have become obsessed with mah jong. Mah jong! I thought that game was only reserved for retirees in Boynton Beach, Florida but my friends are starting early and joining Mah Jong leagues where they scream at the top of their lungs, ?Bam,? ?Crack,? ?Dragon? and finally ?Mah Jong!? I can remember my other Grandma feverishly flipping tiles in Ft. Lauderdale and she even used my dad as a fill in so she could finish making her vegetarian chopped liver. But now, some 50 years later, there are resident Sadies and Mildreds playing their own version of the game right here in Westchester. Sure, they?re enjoying their newfound passion with wine instead of prune juice, but still, Mah Jong to me is a retiree skill I thought I?d need to pick up in another 30 years.
Despite the explosion of technology that has kids playing for hours with Nintendo DS?s, Webkinz and Club Penguin, there are still girls like my daughter and moms who are more into socializing than texting, and have embraced the things that our Grandmas used to do so well. Kibbitzing, cooking and crocheting. I guess it?s not such a bad thing after all. Looks like it?s time for me to shut down the computer, pull up a chair, grab some knitting needles and embrace my inner old lady.
Incidentally, if you'd like to actually teach your kids how to knit and have no clue how to do it, then look no further...log onto www.TheArtOfKnitting.com and order a DVD for your kids today! They'll be knitting blankets, hats and scarves in no time!
To check out more of our undercover observations, check out my blog on New York Metroparents. To return to Role Mommy, Click Here.
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Posted in: Blog, Undercover Mom on 05/31/2007
Blackberry Meltdown
My BlackBerry has officially experienced a meltdown. I managed to abuse it so much over the last six months that the thing just went completely haywire. Of course, it malfunctioned during the worst possible time ? just when I was coordinating a huge red carpet event with several big name celebrities and producers who kept firing off emails to me about their flights and hotels but all I could do was frantically press buttons that were malfunctioning like R2D2 in the first Star Wars movie.
To be completely candid, I feel like an addict who is suffering from withdrawal. That red light is flashing incessantly, almost mocking me to grab it and try to access my messages. And so I give it a whirl, and the thing starts having a mind of its own ? picking websites I don?t want to visit or attempting to send messages to people I don?t need to reach or want to contact at all.
I can?t imagine what I could have done to break the damn thing. It?s still fairly new, but since the time I brought it home, I?ve used it to access my work email plus three personal email accounts, websites, directions, the occasional phone call ? heck if it could dispense money, I?d be plugging in my ATM password too.
I never realized that this addiction to technology would become so destructive. While on business these last few days, I?d sit at a lunch or a dinner while those with working BlackBerries typed away effortlessly, their thumbs gliding across the keys, out of touch with the world around them because they were too preoccupied sending a message to someone who was several thousand miles away.
My husband always gets annoyed with me when I?m trying to return a quick message while I?m out at dinner with him and the kids. I never really understood what the issue was until I was kicked out of the BlackBerry clique this week. As I stared longingly at that red flashing light, I began to discover that legions of PDA users are completely detached and distracted from the real world. As a multi-tasker, I never thought that my BlackBerry use was detracting from my life, but you know what, it is.
I?ve been known to cross city streets while responding to an email and narrowly escaped injury from a bike messenger who swerved to avoid knocking me over. While in my car, I?ve glanced over at the red light and have been tempted to access my emails while waiting at a stop light, and I?ve even noticed the message waiting indicator in the middle of the night while I was charging my PDA and I?ve contemplated reaching for it at 3 in the morning just to see who was trying to get in touch with me.
Here?s the deal though ? I am not a brain surgeon. Or a lawyer, or an accountant, or a police detective for that matter. I am a publicist ? who is always connected to her office and a demanding legion of people who sometimes work my last nerve ? especially when I?m coordinating a massive press trip for several actors and actresses and am attempting to travel all of them to a city and they keep changing their minds about their flights. In that situation, my BlackBerry is a necessary appendage, so when it started having its own technological meltdown this week, I started losing it too. Thankfully, I managed to get everyone what they needed?even without the help of my BlackBerry?imagine that?
Now that I?m finally back home and about to enjoy the official start of summer, I?m still in possession of my broken BlackBerry and haven?t done a thing about it. Why, do you ask? Well, I?m actually contemplating taking a break from it and quitting my addiction?at least for a short while. No more message returning while dining with my family, bike riding (which is kind of difficult to do when you?re trying to steer without hands) or out and about running errands. So let?s all take a break from the insanity. It?s time to kick back and enjoy the summer and perhaps, instead of sending messages from a BlackBerry, maybe I?ll go out and pick some with my kids.
Check out more of our confessions posts in Time Out New York Kids! Or to return to Role Mommy, Click Here.
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Posted in: Blog, Role Mommy Confessions on 05/31/2007
Esalen Tales by Joanne Rendell
These days, many parents shell out a whole lot of money to take their little ?uns along with them to far flung destinations and on idyllic vacations. But sometimes you have stop to wonder whether we should just save our money and take our kids to the park instead.
Take my brother, for example. Last month, he and his wife came to visit us in New York and brought along their three year old son, Andy. It was no cheap trip. On top of three full airfares from Spain to New York, they also did commando-style sightseeing of New York which meant shelling out for three tickets at the Empire State Building, the Bronx Zoo, the Natural History Museum, as well as a whole host of lesser known attractions. Then there were the meals out, including kids meals which often went uneaten because Andy, like any three year old, was wary of cuisines which weren?t familiar.
Who knows how much my brother and his family actually spent? One thing is for certain though, Andy wont remember one moment of the trip. Okay, he might remember a few snippets and he might even form a few memories based on the photos he?ll be shown in years to come. But he certainly wont recall every minute of his action-packed and pretty darn expensive two weeks in New York.
Take us, too. We?re currently spending two weeks at Esalen, a hippy dippy teaching institute/hot spring retreat on California's highway one, just south of Big Sur. Even though Brad (my husband) wouldn't know his ying from his yang, or his karma from a chicken korma, he managed to snag himself a teaching gig here for a couple of weeks. Needless to say, I insisted on coming along and helping him out and that meant bringing Benny too.
Brad?s teaching has paid for us to be here and we?re being fed tip-top organic food for free. Nonetheless, it has been an expensive trip ? with the flights, the rental car, and the urgent twenty minute drives to Big Sur every few nights to eat overpriced pizza whenever Benny has refused to eat the afore-mentioned tip-top organic food.
Of course, spending the money has been worth it ? just as I?m sure it was for my brother. We?re having a wonderful time and Benny seems to be enjoying himself too. He loves Esalen?s hot tubs and the excuse they provide to romp about naked. He loves the big long tables in the lodge where we eat which provide a perfect racetrack for his small collection of cars. He loves the log fires at night and the people playing drums in ?Explore Our Essential Rhythms? workshops.
Most of all, though, he has loved two things. First, a member of Brad?s workshop was chucking out some old toys and handed onto Benny a cute Thomas the Tank Engine case containing no less than nine of Benny?s favorite engines. The case hasn?t been out of Benny?s hand in three days. He even slept with Thomas pressed against his cheek last night.
Second, at the weekend, we had to make a run to a grocery store in Carmel-by-the-Sea. Benny was in heaven because the Safeway we found ? which has to be the most swishy Safeway in the country ? had shopping carts with little toy cars for kids built onto their fronts. Benny jumped in the first one he saw and then happily beeped and vroomed his way around the store.
I?m sure these will be the only two things he?ll remember about our trip. He wont remember the breathtaking coastlines, the unimpeded view of the Pacific ocean from our window. He probably wont even remember the idyllic hot tubs perched on the cliff edge with the waves crashing just twenty feet below.
Benny will remember nine plastic trains and a souped-up shopping cart.
Ah well, it isn?t about the money or the memories, is it? As all the yogis and Buddhists at Esalen would agree, it is about appreciating the moment and enjoying life?s beauty and impermanence.
Ohmm and Namas Dae!
Take my brother, for example. Last month, he and his wife came to visit us in New York and brought along their three year old son, Andy. It was no cheap trip. On top of three full airfares from Spain to New York, they also did commando-style sightseeing of New York which meant shelling out for three tickets at the Empire State Building, the Bronx Zoo, the Natural History Museum, as well as a whole host of lesser known attractions. Then there were the meals out, including kids meals which often went uneaten because Andy, like any three year old, was wary of cuisines which weren?t familiar.
Who knows how much my brother and his family actually spent? One thing is for certain though, Andy wont remember one moment of the trip. Okay, he might remember a few snippets and he might even form a few memories based on the photos he?ll be shown in years to come. But he certainly wont recall every minute of his action-packed and pretty darn expensive two weeks in New York.
Take us, too. We?re currently spending two weeks at Esalen, a hippy dippy teaching institute/hot spring retreat on California's highway one, just south of Big Sur. Even though Brad (my husband) wouldn't know his ying from his yang, or his karma from a chicken korma, he managed to snag himself a teaching gig here for a couple of weeks. Needless to say, I insisted on coming along and helping him out and that meant bringing Benny too.
Brad?s teaching has paid for us to be here and we?re being fed tip-top organic food for free. Nonetheless, it has been an expensive trip ? with the flights, the rental car, and the urgent twenty minute drives to Big Sur every few nights to eat overpriced pizza whenever Benny has refused to eat the afore-mentioned tip-top organic food.
Of course, spending the money has been worth it ? just as I?m sure it was for my brother. We?re having a wonderful time and Benny seems to be enjoying himself too. He loves Esalen?s hot tubs and the excuse they provide to romp about naked. He loves the big long tables in the lodge where we eat which provide a perfect racetrack for his small collection of cars. He loves the log fires at night and the people playing drums in ?Explore Our Essential Rhythms? workshops.
Most of all, though, he has loved two things. First, a member of Brad?s workshop was chucking out some old toys and handed onto Benny a cute Thomas the Tank Engine case containing no less than nine of Benny?s favorite engines. The case hasn?t been out of Benny?s hand in three days. He even slept with Thomas pressed against his cheek last night.
Second, at the weekend, we had to make a run to a grocery store in Carmel-by-the-Sea. Benny was in heaven because the Safeway we found ? which has to be the most swishy Safeway in the country ? had shopping carts with little toy cars for kids built onto their fronts. Benny jumped in the first one he saw and then happily beeped and vroomed his way around the store.
I?m sure these will be the only two things he?ll remember about our trip. He wont remember the breathtaking coastlines, the unimpeded view of the Pacific ocean from our window. He probably wont even remember the idyllic hot tubs perched on the cliff edge with the waves crashing just twenty feet below.
Benny will remember nine plastic trains and a souped-up shopping cart.
Ah well, it isn?t about the money or the memories, is it? As all the yogis and Buddhists at Esalen would agree, it is about appreciating the moment and enjoying life?s beauty and impermanence.
Ohmm and Namas Dae!
For more Esalen tales, come over to my writing blog at www.joannerendell.blogspot.com. To return to Role Mommy, Click Here.
Posted in: Blog, Laptop Naptime Mama on 05/31/2007
Great Site that Tracks Where Your Internet Buddies Are
Thanks to the Manic Mommies, who have turned me on to the coolest sites - like Gather, I have now been introduced to Frappr - a totally cool site that enables you to load a photo of yourself, give a shout out and get to know people all over the country. Leave it to Erin and Kristin to always have the inside track on the latest fun places to visit on the net. So check out Frappr and join our Role Mommy map - would love to see what you look like even if you don't have time to write! And do me a favor...don't just add your home town...share your email address so that we can keep you up to date on our fabulous finds!
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Posted in: Blog, Role Mommy Recommends on 05/23/2007
Overcommitted
I don?t know what it is about me and the word ?yes.? Somebody asks me to do something and rather than say, ?You know, I?m a bit busy this month,? I smile and say, ?Yes, of course, I can do it, no problem at all.?
Sure. No problem if I didn?t have a job, a side business, a husband and two kids. With birthday parties to attend. And little league games to play. And ice skating recitals to perform in. Did I mention gymnastics, astronomy, cooking and tennis? Oh, and that dentist appointment I have to keep putting off because we don?t have time to get there since my daughter may miss a tennis lesson that I inadvertently scheduled before consulting with my mental calendar.
Yes, I have a mental calendar. I do not write things down in a datebook, or a MomAgenda or in my Outlook express calendar or my BlackBerry for that matter. I keep all the dates right in my head. And lately, I?ve been off my game. It kind of feels like I?ve turned on the auto pilot switch in my brain and am now suffering from acute amnesia ? like the time I wrote the wrong date on my son?s birthday invitation to one of his friends and the poor kid missed the shindig, or the other time one of the moms at pre-school told me that I signed her son?s birthday card:
To Sam,
Happy 5th Birthday,
Your friend,
Beth
So this weekend, in my haste to get my kids to all their activities, I inadvertently remembered that I had committed myself to selling books and t-shirts at a crafts fair. It seemed simple enough. I was going to take my daughter with me while my husband took my son to a party and my little sales girl and I would man the table and hawk some wares. Wrong. We missed a minor addition to the schedule. Another birthday party.
My daughter completely forgot she had a gymnastics extravaganza that afternoon so instead of accompanying me on an entrepreneurial adventure, at 10 am, we all hopped into the car and raced to Party City where we picked up a Darth Vader costume for my son (he was attending a Star Wars bash), hit Kaybee Toys for a gift for my daughter?s friend; had no time to wrap the gift so we bought tissue paper and a bag with a tiny card attached to it and this time I made sure to sign it ?Love Becca.? We then hopped back in the car and went back to the house so I could get ready for my event and I ?Jewish Star? promised I?d be back in time to watch my son?s baseball game. I also arranged for my daughter to get picked up by my friend, so everyone would get to where they wanted to go and my husband wouldn?t lose his mind.
I felt the sniffles coming on, but I ignored the flu symptoms and went to grab my inventory and shove it in my trunk. But then I noticed that I had left the carpet samples I was supposed to return to the store three weeks ago in our mud room so I hastily grabbed those clumsy boards too and attempted to carry them to the car when SLAM!!! The carpet samples landed right on my toe and I started gushing blood.
My husband, who was pretty annoyed that I had overscheduled the day and left him in to deal with all the kids? appointments, finally did feel sorry for me when I let out a loud shriek and broke into tears. As I sat in the kitchen nursing my bloody foot, he fished out a Barbie band aid from the kitchen cabinet and gingerly wrapped it around my toe.
And then, I kissed everyone goodbye and we went our separate ways. My family - to a birthday marathon, and me, to a shopping tent that included scores of men who winced or looked confused when they saw the name of my book (Peeing in Peace) or women who felt that my t-shirts were cute (?I Need a Playdate?) but rather pricey ($25) - have they not been to those upscale boutiques where they charge 50 bucks for a flimsy tee and don?t even bat an eye?!? And then there were others who were ready to spend some cash and bought my stuff ? enabling me to pretty much make up the cost of what I spent to purchase the table for the event in the first place. I never did say I was a good business woman?writer yes, money maker, no.
And then the clock struck 4pm. Tick tock, time to wrap things up. My son?s game was starting and I had to run like the wind. A very nice man in a golf cart helped me transport my things back to my car ? in hindsight, for the amount of items I sold, I could have fit everything in an Ann Taylor Loft shopping bag rather than schlepping two oversized suitcases, a broken carton and a very large sign to the event. I then hopped in my Jetta and battled traffic as I attempted to zip over to the baseball field.
I got to the bleachers just in time to watch my son staring into space on or around third base. He smiled at me and waved hello and asked his dad if he could come over and give me a hug, but since Daddy is the assistant coach, he told him he had to stay put. I parked my buns on the top row and noticed there was a bit of a nip in the air. Did I mention I didn?t have a jacket? And that my nose was running? Meanwhile, my daughter was lying nearby in a chaise lounge with her friend sifting through her goody bag for decent candy and yelled ?Mommy, I found your favorite ? Double Bubble?catch!? I savored my treat for about a minute and a half until it lost its flavor, then shuddered for a few minutes until a nice burly man next to me let me borrow his denim shirt to keep warm. At that point, I would?ve put on my son?s size 4T jacket since the chills were really setting in.
After sitting out in the cold for what seemed like an eternity, the game ended (my munchkin got two hits) and our good friend, the coach, took our kids over to his place for a play date. I left the field to return my overpriced carpet samples and apologized profusely to the store owner and said I?d be back to place an order?not.
The kids then came home and ate dinner, our babysitter arrived and we got the chance to have a night out on the town. Only problem, my nose was totally stuffed, I was feeling feverish and all I wanted to do was take a shot of Nyquil.
So what?s the moral of this story? If you overcommit, you?ll feel like ****. You fill in the blank. Now I?m off to blow my nose.
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Posted in: Blog, Role Mommy Confessions on 05/19/2007
The Playroom
As an undercover mom, eavesdropping is always an important part of my surveillance. If I notice someone whose conversation might be intriguing to me, I lean over ever so slightly and I give a listen. Last night, while my husband was in the restroom, I stared into space while listening to a woman who told her dining companions that she used to work in the hotel industry and now she's home with her first child. I also heard her say how her child's speech therapist told her that her playroom was way too cluttered for her daughter.
Puhleeze. Way too cluttered? If any therapist came to my house, she wouldn't use that phrase to describe my playroom. Tornado, cyclone, disaster area, those would be terms that I use but what I do know is that my kids aren't delayed in their mental development because the playroom is a mess. What is it these days with parents falling into the trap of therapists who scrutinize their every move and decision? Can't we just let kids be kids and have them use the playroom to play, make a mess and have fun?
Do we want to raise hyper kids that become little Felix Unger's because they were forced to clean up the minute they finished playing a game? Hey, I hate clutter just as much as the next guy, but one day, all those toys will be gone and the playroom will turn into a hangout for teens who won't want anything to do with me. So if my kids want to throw caution to the wind and leave their Twister out on the floor along with a tower of blocks that they've been using to construct a castle, I say, leave it out. Sure it may be cluttered, but that's what a playroom is for.
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Posted in: Blog, Undercover Mom on 05/19/2007
We're in the May Issue of Working Mother Magazine!
Peeing in Peace is featured in the May issue of Working Mother magazine! Click on the book cover or here to take a look!
Beth shares how she learned everything about parenting from her 8:48 commuter train!
To Return to Role Mommy, Click Here.
Posted in: Blog, Peeing in Peace on 05/19/2007
SEE JANE LEAD by Lois Frankel
I was one of the many women who picked up Lois Frankel's last book, Nice Girls Don't Get the Corner Office, because I could totally relate. Well, in her latest book, See Jane Lead, Ms. Frankel picks up where she left off to show us nice girls how to get an edge and take charge at the office and how to transition back into the workforce. The book is filled with real stories and resourceful tips on how to stop being a worker bee and become a leader. The book also highlights the characteristics of female leaders today that have helped them survive and succeed in the workplace and the world. I'm still reading the book but I'm enjoying what I've learned so far and every time I finish a chapter, I feel empowered to shake things up and take charge. To find out more about See Jane Lead, visit Amazon and buy today!
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Posted in: Blog, Book Club on 05/19/2007
Best Kid in the World...Maybe?
When I was seven or eight, I remember sitting on the gravelly floor of the school playground having a ferocious argument with my best friend. She had just dared to suggest that her mum was ?the best mum in the world.? To say I was appalled would be a gross understatement. I was mortified. How, I wondered, could she think her mum was the best mum in the world when in fact my mum was?
I was particularly dismayed that she, my best friend, who'd known my mum for half her life, would think this way. After all, my best friend had tasted my mum?s French fries; she?d seen the cool Barbie house my mum had made; she?d helped me braid my mum?s lovely long blonde hair; and when I?d invited her for a sleepover, my best friend stayed up late and watched ?Starsky and Hutch? because my mum let us. So, why on earth didn?t she think MY mum was the best in the world? Especially considering HER mum wore bad shoes, made us eat yucky brown bread, and never let us watch TV.
?She is.??She is not.??She is??She is not.?
?She is.??She is not.??She is??She is not.?
The argument went on like this for quite some time ? until the school bell rang, in fact. We never resolved the issue. She never came around to my way of thinking. I never came around to hers.
I used to look back at that argument and laugh. How funny those two eight-year old girls were! How naïve and sweet and silly they had been to think they could say, categorically, that their mum was best in the world. Those eight year olds just didn?t understand subjectivity, diverse world views, differences of opinion. They simply thought best was best and that was that.
I used to look back at that argument and laugh. How funny those two eight-year old girls were! How naïve and sweet and silly they had been to think they could say, categorically, that their mum was best in the world. Those eight year olds just didn?t understand subjectivity, diverse world views, differences of opinion. They simply thought best was best and that was that.
However, now being a mum myself, I?m finding out that the screwy notion of ?mine is surely the best? still exists everywhere?.including, sometimes, in me.
Like when I see Benny being especially cute, e.g. when he sits like an angel at a bar and sweetly asks the bartender for ?a water and a straw,? I find myself thinking, ?He?s the best, most adorable kid in the world.? Or when I hear him saying, when Brad comes home from the office, ?How was work, Baba?? I can?t help melting inside and thanking my lucky stars for having the politest, sweetest kid that ever lived.
Sometimes, so full of love, I find it hard to fathom that people aren?t stopping me on the street to tell me that my child is indeed the best in the world. I also sometimes have a hard time watching other parents looking at their own children with the same look of wonder and adoration that I can?t help feeling only Benny deserves. After all, their kids are shrieking, out-of-control, and whining monsters ? not a bit like Benny.
Of course, after these moments of melting love for my dearest Benny, when I think there could never be a better kid, I always get the reality check I deserve. No sooner have I looked down my nose at someone else?s children, Benny always reminds me that he can whine, flail, and shriek as good as the rest of them. And just when I think no kid could be as sweet and kind as Benny, I?m confronted with another three year old at the park who not only shares all his toys with Benny but also offers Benny a car to bring home with him. Something my rather possessive Benny would never, ever, do.
All kids are the best in the world ? at least, according to their parents. I just have to face up to that fact and instead of trying to label Benny, just enjoy him!
To hear more from Joanne, check out her latest blog by Clicking Here. To return to Role Mommy, Click Here.
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Posted in: Blog, Laptop Naptime Mama on 05/14/2007
Bathroom Break...Also Seen in Time Out New York Kids
I never thought that after my two kids became potty trained, I'd find myself spending a decent portion of my life in restaurant bathrooms. You see, I don't cook very often so we eat out. A lot. My kids have no problem eating everything from Indian to Japanese to Greek to Thai, but the minute our food arrives, the call of nature rears its ugly head.
"Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom!"
With my spoon ready to dive into a piping hot bowl of pasta fagioli, I grimace, grab my purse and proceed to the john. I think if I started keeping count, in the past five years, I probably have seen the inside of over 1000 bathrooms (sometimes repeat visits) as my kids repeatedly ask me to escort them to their very own personal refuge from the dinner table.
Frankly, I cannot understand why the bathroom tops the list as the prime destination to check out during a restaurant outing. I mean, they've got crayons, a kiddy flyer filled with mazes and coloring projects, drinks with umbrellas in them, Leapsters, but no, it's the alluring draw of the bathroom that sucks them in every time.
The cross section of bathrooms I've had to suffer through over the years range from putrid to palatial. Last night, I got the chance to frequent a mid-sized single bathroom that had a deceiving pleasant odor, but something that was utterly fowl in the toilet (doesn't anyone look when they flush?) I had the opportunity to visit that wonderful locale not once, but twice. The first time was with my son, who forgot to go tinkle when my husband brought him inside to wash his hands and then, another time with my daughter who, thankfully, after finishing her meal, decided it was time to go.
Some of my potty missions have given me the chance to pick up great renovating ideas for my own home. I've spent several minutes while my son was singing show tunes behind a stall, marveling at a decadent hotel bathroom with black granite countertops, ornate sink basins with a curving antique brushed pewter faucet and mosaic basket weave beige and black tiling adorning the floor. I was so entranced by the place that the bathroom lady almost had to step in and wipe my son's butt.
Let's not forget about those lovely emergency bathroom breaks that always seem to happen in the middle of nowhere. Like the time we were driving home from the Hamptons and my daughter couldn't hold it in and we had to slip into a seedy dive bar on Sunrise Highway where she relieved herself in one of the skankiest toilets I have ever seen. We of course, coated the seat with plenty of paper to avoid picking up any creepy diseases.
Then there's the kid friendly bathrooms at those restaurant chains that have everything from changing stations to a nursing area to sinks that only start when you wave your hands in front of them. That happens to drive me nuts by the way, since I always manage to find the one sink that won't turn on. What am I, dead or something that the sensor can't tell there's a hand waving furiously in front of it trying to get some damn water so I can race back to the table before my soup gets cold?
There's also that cool motion sensor paper towel dispenser that always provides several minutes of thrills for both of my kids. They'll stick around in the bathroom for an extra five minutes just so that they can keep waving their hands in front of that machine and waste several rolls of scratchy paper.
Let's not forget about the toilets that flush themselves. I still wax nostalgic over the first time my daughter sat her three-year-old fanny on one of those sneaky contraptions when we were in a bathroom in Disneyworld. The automatic flusher got her so fa-tootsed she was afraid to pee on the toilet for days.
And then there's the sanitary napkin dispenser. When my daughter was young she used to point to it and say, "Mommy, I want a prize from that thingamajig on the wall." Now that she can read, she's moved on to ask the dreaded question, "Mommy, what's a tampon?"
I truly hope that one day my kids will finally lose their fascination with public bathrooms. But for now, I've come to accept that whenever we go out to eat, I'm destined to be on duty. Literally. It may not be the most glamorous job in the world, but hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go.
To visit Time Out NY Kids, Click Here and to return to Role Mommy, Click Here.
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Posted in: Blog, Role Mommy Confessions on 05/12/2007
Older Entries
05/12/2007: Workit Mom
05/09/2007: A Letter to the Mothers of Invention...by Diana Meehan, Author of Learning Like a Girl
05/06/2007: Birthday Blunder
05/05/2007: Caption It!
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