Wanting to Grow Up

                               
This week, 4 years ago, I sat in my car in the middle school parking lot and waited for the elementary school buses to show up. It was hot and muggy that day and I left the air conditioner running. The buses rolled up and dozens of excited 4th graders spilled out onto the side walk. I got out of my car and followed them into the school, through the breeze way and into a big room with a stage.

We all sat down and the principal stood up to at the front and talked to the children about middle school. The opportunities, the expectations, and academics. The trashcan band filed on stage and played for them. They were children taller than me, with pimply faces and ill-fitting tee shirts.

They split us up in groups and we toured the school. We walked through classrooms full of smirking tweenagers. I remember, in that moment, my heart falling into my stomach, the panic that rose up from inside of me, a tingling in my limbs. I was not ready for my little girl to be in middle school. I mourned so much. I followed them back out to the buses, I hugged my girl and gave her a wave as I watched her get back on the bus. Then, I got into my car, exhaled and I wept.

It seems like a moment away but a lifetime ago since then. So much has happened between then and now. I am not the same person I was then, none of us are.

Middle school is not an easy time. It is a time for transformation and transition, for growing. Sometimes that growth can be painful. The pulling and pushing. It is not easy on anyone.

The children become much more self-aware during this time, everything becomes a big deal, everything is magnified. It's really hard as a parent because your child will have meltdowns about things that are insignificant in the big picture. Think when your toddler has a temper tantrum because you gave them the green cup instead of the pink cup, except on a grander scale. I don't blame them, they don't have the life experience to have perspective. They may be young but kids are smart. Their perceptions are their realities, their experiences are valid and belong to them, their feelings and their struggles are real.

I try REALLY hard to remember that, to not discount them. To listen. Sometimes you just want to say, Stop crying, none of this matters, you are being ridiculous. But you can't, not unless you want to irreparably damage their trust. If they can't trust you with the small things, they will not with the big ones.

They will have meltdowns about big things too. You will watch them struggle as they try to navigate this new life that has become complicated due to the mere fact that they are growing up. You will watch them deal with disappointment, loss, heartbreak, stress, self-confidence issues, friend drama..... Many times there is nothing you can do about it except just be there for them. But it's so hard to watch them suffer. To be strong, to walk with them through it.

We are the rocks and they are the sea. The sea consistently crashes against the rock, is effected by outside forces- the moon and weather. Sometimes it rages and storms, sometimes it's calm. Regardless of the conditions of the sea, the rock is solid. It is unmoved, it allows the water to crash against it, to break it's force. The rock is strong but the sea is strong too. Water erodes rock, leaves it exposed, changes it forever.

This stage of parenting is certainly the loneliest. We spend so much time holding up the children but there is no one holding us up. New mothers and parents of young children have support groups and play dates where they can share the struggles of potty training and the milestones of having young families. Overtime, that support system goes away.

Could you imagine a support group for parents of middle schoolers? First of all- there would need to be plenty of wine. Then you would go around as a group: "Well, Jimmy is failing Algebra. He's convinced he's stupid. When I threatened to take away the XBOX, he had a melt down."
"Ha! You think that's bad? Well, I found 8 dick pics on Suzie's phone."
"I'm right there with you. I found a Juul in Robbie's bookbag. Do you know about these things?"
"I think Rebecca is depressed. These girls are bullying her horribly. She eats lunch in the bathroom every.single.day."
"Uggggh! I discovered Joe's Instagram spam account. He's not even allowed to have Instagram."
It's like the wheel of misfortune, all the shitty situations the kids can find themselves in. Spin the wheel and pick one.

A support group like this could never exist. First of all, no one wants to expose their kids like that. Second of all, we take our kid's mistakes very personally. We feel like it's a reflection of us and our parenting. Also, no parent of middle schoolers has spare time. We're all too busy driving them around and just surviving the day.

It is hard. Most of us will watch our children suffer. Last year was incredibly hard. My youngest made the transition to middle school which was not easy for her. Seventh grade was what seventh grade is- literal trash. I made a therapist appointment at the end of the school year because I could feel it building up inside of me. I was exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally.

I sat down on the her leather couch and sunk into the cushions and I sobbed. For like, a solid 3 minutes. I looked up and her and said, "I don't know if I'll survive this." She gave me a half smile, "But you already are."

We did get through, we went to Italy together which was a wonderful reset. It's what we all needed. This year was better. Changes were made. I homeschooled my youngest this year, my oldest had a good 8th grade year. It wasn't perfect, but what is?

Once a month, I come to the school and have lunch with my daughter. We are extremely close and she loves that time together. Well, mostly I think she just likes Chik-fil-a but I'll pretend for my own ego. When the open tables are taken by kids who have lunch detention, I will sit at her lunch table. I've known many of the kids since they were little ones. It is so funny to listen to them now. They are so cynical. They all hate middle school. One day they were talking about how they wished they could just skip high school and go straight to college. I chuckled. What makes these kids think that they should get to skip the hard parts?

NO. You need to sit down, be awkward, have a dysfunctional family, fall in love with people that will never love you back, make questionable fashion choices, be embarrassed and horrified by your exploding sexuality, listen to garbage music loudly and have angst for a few years. That's what I like to call "respecting the struggle." It's a right of passage. There is no skipping ahead. There is no passing GO. This is your life now. We all have to suffer through it.

We all are just figuring it out. Us and the children. Puberty really ravages the kids. My kids were both early bloomers, which has it's own separate set of challenges. It's hard for them because they really are stuck in this in-between place, especially the young teenagers. They can't decide if they want to be kids or adults. It's like they are hanging on to whatever shreds of their childhood still remain while trying to move forward in maturity. They have much more responsibilities, pressures and expectations that come with maturity but they are still treated as children (rightfully so) and I think that's a struggle.

I try to balance that as much as possible. It's not easy. It's definitely not easy for my husband either. Maybe even worse for him, because I can get into the mind of a teenage girl but he feels completely lost. A few months ago, he called me in a panic.

Him: So, our kid told me she needed to be dropped off at school early to practice her flute with Red since they have that audition coming up but I really think she is meeting up with Hollister boy.
Me: Why do you think that?
Him: Because she walked to the courtyard, not the band room.
Me: What time was she supposed to meet Red?
Him: 7:30.
Me: What time did you drop her off?
Him: 7:15.
Me: *thinking, if I were her, what would I do* Oh yeah, she's definitely meeting up with Hollister boy then at 7:30, she'll meet up with Red to practice for her audition.
Him: Well, what if she doesn't practice? She needs to do good at the audition.
Me: Well, that's a choice. If she doesn't put the time in to practice, she won't do well at the audition and that will be on her.
Him: Yeah, well we'll have to deal with it. Besides, she could have said she was meeting up with Hollister boy. Like, why wouldn't she tell me?
Me: Why would she tell you? She meets up with him every morning, they are in school together 8 hours a day. They are in all the same classes. They sit together at lunch. What are you going to do? Lock her up until she's 18? You want to go to school with her and follow her around and ensure she's doing what she's supposed to do? You didn't drop her off at a crack house or a pay by the hour hotel with Hollister boy. You dropped her off at school. She is going to hang out with the boy until 7:30, then she is going to practice the flute, then she is going to do school like she does everyday. Her grades are good, she's happy, she does what she needs to do, she's a well rounded kid, we are doing a good job. Take a deep breath and stop being a helicopter parent.
Him: But it's so hard!
Me: I know.

That is who I am as a parent. It is not easy. It's hard not to hover, it's hard not to nag, it's hard not to issue ultimatums. It's hard not to parent out of fear. The thing is, those things will not help the children in the long run. They have to be self motivated, they have to know we are walking NEXT to them to support them, and we need to give them some space to figure it out. My job is to make them self-sufficient adults one day, not to micro-manage every single aspect of their lives.

Did she meet up with Hollister boy that morning? Yes. Did she also practice her flute? Yes. Did she do well on her audition? Also, yes. Everything was okay.

The Hollister boy saga is it's very own entity. I'm surprised he's still around. I thought kids started getting immune to each other's pheromones after 12 weeks and move on. It's a predicament.

It certainly has been a wild time. Things are different now, but not bad. We have all learned a lot of lessons through the years. We have become extremely close. I have held my children as they cried and fell apart, I've attended the funerals of teenagers with them, we have yelled and screamed at each other but there has also been so much joy. We've traveled the world together, we've laughed, we've watched movies and sung and danced in the living room, we've shared countless memes. We've been happy too.

As hard as this stage is, I love my kids at this age. They are fun, smart and wonderful people to be around. One day, when they are grown-ups I hope we all can be good friends. I might not be the perfect parent, I've made a lot of mistakes and I second guess myself constantly but there is one thing that I know for sure - that I have done the very best I can and that I'm here for my kids when they need me. I have given them everything I have. I love them more and more with each passing year- so much that I feel I could burst.

The time has come. My oldest is going into high school. That seems crazy, because I'm only like, 25. It's not going to be easy. I know that. I know we have more lessons to learn, more growing to do. That's okay. We will survive it. We already are.

I was driving my daughter to her band concert a few weeks ago and she said, "This is my last middle school band concert. Are you going to cry?"
I smiled, "Why would I cry?"
"Because it's my last one, because I'm growing up."
She thinks I'm a softie. I laughed, "I'm not sad. You are ready. It's time. Things are the way that they should be."

They are.

Sex Ed

It's sex ed week at school. That wonderful week at the end of the school year where the kids learn all the things. Of course, instruction is after lunch because we wouldn't want the kids talking about their new revelations over the lunch table. Sex ed is my soap box.

I've worked in women's health my entire career, over 10 years besides a short stint in hospice. I worked in public health for the first 5 of those years. I worked in a health department that offered nutrition education and supplementation services to pregnant women, new mothers, infants and children (that was my department), we did family planning services, STD testing for males and females, immunizations, and we had a separate teen clinic that provided exams, contraceptives, pregnancy testing, and STD testing for male and female teens. We kept very busy.

One day, in 2009, I was sitting at my desk and I pulled the next chart out of my box. I went to pull it up in my computer and the birthdate was 1997. I walked up to the front to the clerk and said, "Hey! This is wrong. I think this person is here for immunizations." She shook her head. "Nope. She's a prenatal." I called her back to my office with her mother. They both were quiet. I went through the things I needed to go through, gave recommendations and resources. She was 12 years old.

That was my first pregnant 12 year old, but it wouldn't be my last. It wasn't super common to serve a pregnant 12 or 13 year old. I might see 1-3 a year. It was always pretty upsetting to me. I'd see pregnant 14 and 15 year olds more commonly and would think how sad it was. Pregnant 16 and 17 year olds were just another day in the office. I wouldn't even blink.

I remember some of them so vividly. The 13 year old whose baby I helped with breastfeeding, the 16 year old who took a bus alone with her baby in the middle of the summer to get a breast pump to go back to high school, the blonde 17 year old with a baby with Down Syndrome, the 17 year old that gave birth to 2 babies in 12 months.

I never judged these girls, that was not my job. What was done was done. My job was to provide them and their families with resources and that's what I did. The same for my coworkers. They told terrifying stories- about  kids who went with untreated STDs because they were too afraid to tell anyone, kids coming in for HIV testing because they found out someone they had been with was positive. Scary stuff that public health workers deal with day in and day out. My work has definitely impacted how I feel about sex education and my views on sexuality in general.

Let's look at the statistics. It's estimated that 10-12% of middle school students are sexually active, that number jumps to 20-30% by the end of 9th grade, it continues to increase to over 50% by the end of senior year. Only about 60% of those report condom use every time, and about 20% used drugs or alcohol before their last sexual encounter. Unfortunately, most of the statistics surrounding the sexual activities of teens rely on surveys. Interestingly, teens are having less sex now than they were 20 years ago and the teen birth rate is down. During this time, access to pornography online has increased. Which is it's own separate issue. But this is the reality. It's alarming, but not surprising.

I had a 14 year old who had just had a baby come in with her mother for a postpartum visit. The mom was pissed, you could tell. I didn't blame her. Part of our screening was to ask about plans for contraception. So I was doing a normal visit and I said, "So, what type of birth control method are you planning to use?"
The mother said, "She doesn't need anything. She already learned her lesson."
COME ON LADY! We all know that sex is like Pringles.
                                       
That was a hard conversation. I was not in her shoes and I certainly could not imagine what she was going through but I was real with her. "Look, I know this isn't easy but it has already happened. Unless you can be with her 24 hours a day, you could find yourself in this position again 2 years from now. It happens all the time." We talked about it for a little while and she definitely felt like putting her on birth control would essentially be giving her permission to do it. But she didn't need permission. You know how many people start having sex after getting permission from their parents? F*cking no one. Maybe someone but that's not a thing. As much as we would like it to be a thing. It's not. She did wind up making a family planning appointment for her kid.

The saddest one was a 15 year old girl I worked with for almost 4 months. She was smart and had a very supportive mother. She made a mistake. I went to her house for a home visit once and she was alone with the baby. She had the baby in a front carrier and she was sitting at her computer doing school work. She had to change the baby and I followed her to her bedroom so I could do my visit. I walked in and it was a little girl bedroom. Pink, with trophies on her dresser, stuffed animals everywhere. There were Barbie sheets on her bed. I was so overcome with sadness.

I thought about the boy. He did the deed too. But here was this girl at 15, doing school at home alone and taking care of baby but he got to be at school. He was getting to live a normal life, he wasn't tied down, he was probably flirting with girls and going out with friends. Forever, she will live with the stigma of that. She'll be looked down on when she's a 30 year old and has a 15 year old. People will view her differently. The stakes for girls is so high, the burdens so much to bear. It's unfair. We exist in a world where boys are Gods and girls are sluts.

So many girls have been there. Even me. I remember being 15 and at a party. There was a boy that I liked, he may or may not have been my boyfriend, my memory is a little fuzzy. We snuck off to the edge of the woods to kiss. I don't know how long we were gone, it was just one of those things you do when you were young. Long story short, a rumor went around school that we had slept together at this party. Although, I don't think the boy started the rumor, I'm pretty sure he didn't deny it. I was mad about it, but even then I understood it. Because boys were Gods and girls were sluts.

People asked me about it. Literally came up to my face and were like, "I heard you had sex with so and so." I was absolutely mortified. I denied it, of course, because it wasn't true. But I had gone to the edge of the woods with him, and I had let him put his tongue in my mouth so there were elements of truth in the story. I realized that it didn't matter if I denied it or not. I felt like no one would believe me. So, I stopped denying it. I think I told people it was really small or something. It was the only power I had to fight back with. I didn't understand why anyone cared in the first place. It was unfair but it happens all the time.

I tend to be a little sensitive about it and I am very against anything that demonizes female sexuality and I will not tolerate the words hoe, slut or whore in my presence. My kids know how I feel about it. I will call people out if I see it happening. As a matter of fact, recently I took a kid home from school and this conversation happened.

Kid: *vents about day" And then so-and-so. She's such a whore.
Me: Really? A whore? Why is that?
Kid: Because she had sex with like, 2 people.
Me: So that makes her a whore? So anyone that's had sex with 2 people is a whore?
Kid: I mean, no.
Me: How do you know that she actually had sex with 2 people? Where you there?
Kid: No. So-and-so told me.
Me: So-and-so was there?
Kid: No.
Me: Then how do you know it's true?
Kid: I guess I don't.
Me: And if was true, and you think she is a whore, what about the boys she was with? Are they whores too?
Kid: *long pause* I guess.
Me: Is it really any of your business what she does?
Kid: No, the thing is that she is just so rude to me.
Me: Okay. So next time, just say so-and-so is so rude to me and never call a girl a whore ever again.
Kid: Uggghh, ok.

You don't have to do anything at all to be labeled a whore or a slut. Kiss a boy, wear a short skirt, be the girl that some boy likes and another girl is jealous, have a rumor spread about you. That is what it's like to be a girl.

I went off on a tangent. Our experiences shape our attitudes about these things. Because I have worked in this field for so long, I am totally comfortable talking about this stuff with my kids. I just think sex is something that humans do. I don't have a lot of hang ups about it. I think our society is so jacked up because sex is everywhere. There is sex is movies, in every song, in the media and yet we don't always do a great job as parents talking to our kids about sex.

I'm not sure why this is. Because we are afraid, we want to keep them innocent, we are uncomfortable....the truth of the matter is, we have to talk to our kids about sex because EVERYONE ELSE is. They are getting bombarded all the time with it. Most sex talks look like this: "Don't do it until you are married or make sure you always use a condom." Well, okay.

But what if they decide not to wait or what about the fact that condoms are only 99% effective if used correctly? Like, you need to know about the reservoir tip, proper application, and storage. So, for most kids that's it. They get 2 days of sex ed in school per year and the -don't do it, but if you do- speech once. Are we REALLY okay with that?

The truth of the matter is that one day all of them will be sexually active adults. Every person. Sex is a normal part of a healthy life. I think it's important to be sexually literate. ONE DAY they will have to know. I would 100% rather have them learn about these things from us than everyone else. I have seen first hand what happens when you say and do nothing.  So, at my house, we cover it it all. It's not taboo. We aren't weird, we don't have Kama Sutra posters on our wall or anything but we are kind of ho-hum about it. It's not a big deal, ask us anything and we'll give honest answers. We don't necessarily have formal conversations all the time. There are opportunities all around us. We were listening to the radio and there was a song that went something like, "Don't pick up the phone, because you know you'll wind up in his bed by the morning....." Really? I laughed. "Wow. This lady has very little self control. Sound like she needs a vibrator and an accountability partner."

Or if there is a sexy scene in a show we're watching I might say, "Women deserve orgasms too!" or "Never do anything for a boy that he wouldn't do for you." My kids are like, "Gross, mom! You can't say that." My husband just sits there like:
                          
My favorite is: "Remember kids, it's not cool if your parents are doing it!" hahahahaha. For real, if you watch movies you'd think that only good-looking, young people are having sex. It seems so glamorous. That is not real life. They need to know that.

We have real conversations too. When my kid's bus driver was arrested for knocking up an 8th grader (yeah, that happened) it was quite the story and kids were talking about it. There were a few kids at my house and the subject came up and one of the kids asked, "Why is it rape if she wanted to do it?"

That opened the door for us to have a really good conversation about consent and consent laws and how they can protect children. At that time, it was appropriate. Teenagers need to know consent laws. They need to know what it means to give consent. We talk to them endlessly about how to say no to sex but almost never about how to say yes and what happens when you say yes to sex.

Conversations need to be tailored to individual kids because everyone develops at different rates and kids have different demeanors. The sex education needs of a 13 year old that is growing a beard and has the voice of Barry White are going to be different than the 13 year old that just sprouted his first armpit hair. It's going to be different for the 14 year old that started her period at 10 than the 14 year old girl that started her period at 13. Maybe your child isn't into members of the opposite sex at all- then you might need to have a different conversation with them all together. That's okay. You have to know your kid and meet them where they are at.

Teens need to be aware of the risks and dangers of sex and how to protect themselves from STDs and pregnancy, including abstinence. We focus so much on the physical aspects of sex but they need to know about the emotional impacts. It's so much easier to protect your body than your heart. We need to talk to them about the hook-up culture and what healthy relationships look like. We need to model that in our own relationships. We need to balance messages of dangers with positive messages about sex.

Sex is not inherently bad or dangerous but the consequences of it can be life altering. It also is a wonderful thing. Definitely makes the top 3 list.

I believe that sex should be safe, sober, legal, consensual, and mutually enjoyable. Those are my individual values and these are the things that we talk about. I might be super progressive and your values and thoughts about sex might be different. That's okay. What's more important is that you share your values and thoughts with your kids because I can guarantee you that the world is sending them messages that might not be in line with that. If it makes you uncomfortable, utilize books or Youtube videos, or just send them to my house with a condom and a banana.

I don't really know the right answer. I'm not saying that the way I'm handling things with my kids is the right way but I do know it's right for OUR family. I can tell you with 100 certainty what is wrong- not saying anything at all.

I'll get off my soapbox now.

Japan

                         
Here I am, finally. I have sat down to write this blog, like 100 times. Let's face it - I have spent the past 6 weeks in survival mode. There's been so much to do- it seems like a blur. Like Japan was only a dream.

When we went to Italy last summer, it was an 11 hour plane ride. Long, but not terrible. When I planned our trip to Japan, we had a 15 hour flight from NYC to Shanghi. I thought that 15 hours is not much longer than 11 hours..... WRONG. That is WAY too long to be on an airplane.

We flew China Eastern Air and boarded the plane just after midnight. It was perfect timing, we could fall asleep and when we woke up, half the trip would be done. The plane takes off, we get in the air, and then we had HORRIBLE turbulence for 5 hours. That's right, for 5 hours straight, the plane rocked and rolled and shook. It wasn't ideal. My husband was hating his life, gripping the arm rests and having full-on panic attacks. I'm pretty sure he thought we were going to die.

I leaned over to him and whispered, "I'm going to need you to be calm, because if the kids know you are freaking out- they are going to freak out." I was fine. Truly, I was already on the plane. If it was going to fall out of the sky, there was nothing I could do about it. So, I ate my airplane Chinese food and watched a movie. The turbulence didn't bother the children at all. They slept and were happy.

Thankfully, the last 10 hours were smooth so my husband didn't have to jump out of his skin. When we landed in China, I thought he was going to kiss the ground. We had a few hours to kill until our flight to Japan so we got breakfast. The breakfast menu was interesting. Beef and noodles, dumplings, rice. We ate, my 13 year old bitched because the internet was running slow, and we napped at the terminal.

Our flight to Japan was delayed for a few hours and by the time we got to Tokyo, we were exhausted and smelled bad. We purchased a train ticket and the lady at the counter spoke good English. She wrote down which lines to take and we were on our way. We get on the train and our stop was the last stop. It was an hour and a half. That was fine, it was late, the train was empty. Well, we are 2 stops from where we need to be and the damn train finishes it's route and then starts running in the opposite direction.

My oldest started crying, "We're lost in Japan!" The crying pissed off my husband, who was seething. The youngest was snapping. Our pocket wifi wouldn't hook up. I just laughed. "This reminds me of the time the bus dropped us off in the middle of nowhere in Rome." No one else was amused.

At the next stop, we got off. "We are taking a cab!" my husband declared, "I don't care how much it is." Long story short, this guy that worked at the station walked us to another train line and just pointed at this map in Japanese and we figured out what we needed to do. We were at our train station in 15 minutes and we took a cab to our apartment.

The kids were grumpy as shit, they both had colds, I thought my husband was going to throw them out of the window. Everyone was hungry. "I'm going to walk down to the convenience store," I announced. It was 11 pm and here I was in the middle of Tokyo - going on an adventure.

I got some Bento boxes, some bananas wrapped in plastic (that was weird), some chilled coffee for the next morning, cough drops. The man at the counter tried to talk to me in Japanese and I just smiled. We ate and then crashed.

We were all up by 6 am. We felt like we'd been hit by a bus. It's a 13 hour time difference. We planned to go to Shinjuku National Garden and then meet up with a kind-of friend of my daughter's for lunch. We put on our tennis shoes and hit the road. We got our pocket wifi hooked up so we could use GPS and actually navigate the subway system like normal humans. As we were walking to the train station, there was this gate thing at the top of the hill. We decided to explore. We walked in and it was a cemetery and shrine. So cool.
                       
We wandered through the graves and then made our way to Shinjuku. We walked through the city to the garden and it's everything was larger than life. It was like New York City, except everything was in Japanese and it was much, much cleaner.

As we walked through the gardens, cherry blossom petals rained over us. It was beautiful.


The weather was perfect and we wandered around in a daze, almost. In disbelief that we were here, on the other side of the world. As we were leaving, my oldest complained that her stomach hurt. We were meeting her old marching band friend, so I told her that maybe she was hungry and that we'd have lunch.

We did meet up with him. He was a marching band kid, newly 19 and stationed at an air force base close to the city. Air Force boy was genuinely glad to see us. He doesn't see many non-Japanese people who aren't soldiers. We took us to a restaurant where we cooked our own okonomiyaki.

Then my oldest got terribly sick. We went back to the apartment right away. She vomited profusely. I packed the medicine cabinet with me, so I gave her meds and told her to take a shower. Air Force boy showed me where this amazing grocery store was near the house. It was 2 levels, which was weird.

Here is the thing about Japanese grocery stores- if you don't read Japanese, you are taking a bet on everything you buy. Like, I brought orange juice. It was in a carton, it looked like there was an orange on the carton - but that shit was not orange juice. You think to yourself, "Is this squid or barbeque spare ribs? Is it chocolate or bean paste?" hahaha. It was an adventure for sure. I just took my chances.

The next day, my oldest was still sick. Poor child was on her death bed, crying. "Mom, my stomach hurts so much and I miss Hollister boy."
                
A stomach bug AND dopamine withdrawls? It was just too much for her to endure! I didn't have time for that though, because I had to attend the Festival of the Steel Phallus with my 11 year old. That's right- we went to a penis festival. Because I'm the mom of the year.

It really wasn't that scandalous- at least by my standards- I guess that's not saying very much. They had these 3 giant penises in these shrines and there was a temple where they were playing traditional Japanese music. They were selling penis whistles, penis tee shirts, penis lollipops. People of all ages were there, elderly couples, young children and everything in-between. There was a guy dressed up as a penis in a kimono walking around. The mood was jovial. We found it fascinating. We ate penis-shaped fried rice sticks wrapped in teriyaki marinated bacon for lunch and watched the parade. I enjoyed it.
                                 
We made our way back to the train station and I was feeling a little woozy, the jetlag was kicking in hard and I was nauseated. The subway car was full and all of a sudden I felt really hot, my ears started ringing and I started to feel faint. I'm going to pass out, I thought.

I didn't, but when we stepped off the train my youngest looked and me and said, "Mom, why are your lips blue?" I explained to her that I didn't feel well and that we'd be back soon. Bless this child, she was so worried about me. The whole walk back to the apartment she kept saying, "Don't forget to breathe, mom."

When we did get back, I switched off with my husband who took the little one to Akihabra to check out all the anime stuff. I crashed and slept for 15 hours. When I woke up in the morning, I felt well - and so did everyone else. We went exploring as a family again.

We went to the Ueno Zoo and then went paddling in the swan boats in the park while we viewed the cherry blossoms. It was absolutely breathtaking.
           
We went to the Tokyo Nation Museum and viewed all the art and statues. So freaking cool. We tried to keep a slow place and be low-key as we were all still recovering from our post-travel funk.

The next day, we hit it pretty hard. We went to Meji Shrine in the morning, did some window shopping at Harajuku, we crossed the busiest crosswalk in the world in Shibuya, we had lunch at the Metropolitan Building where we got a birds eye view of the city, we went to the Maramatsu Flute store and where my oldest got the chance to try a variety of really expensive flutes....we ended the day at Kawaii Monster Cafe where we ate crazy food and got to see a show. It was on my youngest daughter's bucket list. It was a great day!





We spent the following day at Tokyo Disney Sea - and Disney is Disney - it was fabulous. The park was really cool. King Triton and Jasmine's castle was there. The show at the end of the night was AMAZING. Fireworks, pyrotechnics, magic- pure Disney. It was so weird to see Mickey Mouse and all the characters come out and speak Japanese. The kids got a kick out of it.


Disney kicked our ass and we were soooo tired the next day. We had more of a chill day. We met up with Air Force boy again who took us to the mall. The girls got outfits and we sampled almost ALL the candy in the candy store. We had lunch at a cool little restaurant.

Going out to eat in Japan is funny because most places that are not touristy, don't have English menus. You are lucky if you get a menu with pictures. So you look at the picture, point to it, and hope for the best. They would bring food out and you'd think, "I don't know whats in this, but f*ck it, I'm eating it." hahaha.

That night, everyone crashed early and I ran to the grocery store and explored our neighborhood. We were not in a touristy area AT ALL and it was so cool to explore the shops and back alleyways. I had a quiet dinner alone underneath a Japanese lantern and read a book. It was amazing.

The next day we went to Senso-ji which really cool. Then we went to Akihabra where the kids played in the 7 story Sega arcade. It made my husband so happy. It was the coolest. We pet cats in a cat cafe. I loved that, since I'm a crazy cat lady. We window shopped and had tempura for lunch. We headed to Meguro river at sundown to see the cherry blossoms and lantern but a freak wind storm cut our time short.
                     


We visited the Imperial Palace on our last day in Japan. The gardens were so pretty. Then we went to this park near our apartment where there was a waterfall. It was like this hidden oasis in the middle of the city neighborhood. That night was cold but we ventured out for- Chinese food and to view Tokyo Tower all lit up. Beautiful.



The next day was departure day. My family was excited to go home, but I was so sad to leave. I enjoyed not bearing so many domestic burdens, not having to plan dinners or carpool. Japan was like a beautiful, amazing dream that I wasn't ready to wake up from.

The trip back was not as rough as the trip there. We were glad to be home but a piece of Japan will leave in us, forever I think. Our traveling has definitely brought us closer as a family. It's taught us a lot about ourselves. We are adventurous and brave. We navigated one of the biggest cities in the world! We ate strange foods and communicated with people that don't speak our language (pointing, nodding and smiling got us through 9 days in Japan). We decided to do something and we did it. It was a great experience for the kids and for us and it makes me so happy.

I have developed a bad case of wanderlust. We would like to cruise the Greek Isles and Croatia out of Venice in the summer of 2020. That's a save-for-two-years kind of trip. I'm trying to convince my husband to do a short off-shoot trip to Mexico City in 2019 but we'll see. He's not too keen on it.

The trip is done, the school year is coming to an end, I am starting to feel like a normal human again. Hopefully, I will keep up this blog. Who knows what kind of adventures 7th grade and high school will bring?!?! 

The Oldest

                                    
I have faith that my youngest will come back to me because my oldest did. It started at the end of 4th grade, the attitudes and eye rolling. Moms of early bloomers get extra years of this kind of behavior. *sigh* I wanted to kill the child in 5th grade but she started to come back to me by the end of 6th grade.

We have an incredibly close relationship. She texts me throughout the day, we send memes to each other, if she hears a song she thinks I'll like, she sends it to me. She still wants me to come have lunch with her at school. So, I do that once a month. That's our special time. She will hug me in front of her friends, she wants me to chaperone every field trip, and be at every event. She talks to me about almost everything- the good, bad, and the ugly. There is a trust and understanding between us that I am grateful for.

She is really coming into her own. The middle school years have not been easy ones but this year has been a good year. I can't really put my finger on it but there is a calmness about her, a quiet confidence that was bubbling under the surface that has started to spill over.

She came home from school one day in October and declared, "I'm not being friends with people who are not good for me or make me feel bad."
"Okay. Tell me more about this."
"I just told them that we are different people now and even though I love them, we can't be friends anymore," she said just matter-of-factly.
"Were you mean about it?"
"No. I mean, I'll still say hi and be nice but I'm not going to pretend to be someone that I'm not. I'm tired of that."

I thought that was a pretty profound realization for a 13 year old. She did exactly that. She ended some old friendships and started some new ones. Her circle is small but there is little to no drama. She is a lot happier.

She spends most of her time doing homework and playing the flute.  She's been playing for the past 45 minutes as I write this. That's not to say she's not a normal teenager- she spends a fair amount of time scrolling through Instagram, painting her nails while listening to indie music, and taking selfies and sending them out on Snapchat.

She is an old soul. She takes on a lot of responsibility. She has to wake up for early band practices multiple times a week. I NEVER have to get her up. Even on the days we have to leave the house before dawn. She gets herself up at 5:30, and has her stuff together. She cleans her room on Sundays, I never have to get on her for that (not that I would, it's her space). If she needs clothes washed and forgot to put them in the hamper, she does her own laundry. She likes to cook. A few weekends ago she made us this delicious linguine tossed in a cheese butter sauce with sauteed portobello mushrooms and crushed garlic. I'm impressed with her cooking skills.

She likes to nap and drink camomile tea with a touch of honey. She loves classical music, film scores and Lana del Rey. She is amazing at doing hair and makeup and is a creative spirit. She likes to paint and write. She's a joy to be around. She can be salty, but 90% of the time she is pleasant and jovial.

She's struggled in school. She is a B student mostly. A few A's a few B's and always a C in math. Math is the bane of her existence. She has never made the honor roll because she always has a 78 in math. That is okay with me- she works hard for that 78. She is in Alegbra 1 this year, which is a high school class.

Earlier in the year she brought home a progress report that was crap. She was so upset about it and in full breakdown mode. I told her to pull up Powerschool and she had a bunch of 0s for homework assignments.
"Why aren't you turning in your homework?"
"It's only a few. Besides, it's only 5% of my grade," she said.
I gave her the speech I've been giving her the past 3 years. "School is a numbers game. If you aren't a strong test taker, you have to turn in all of your homework and classwork and do test corrections EVERYTIME. It's not a ton of extra effort and even though it might not seem like it matters - 1 point here and 2 points here will add up. Just look over your notes before your tests. You are smart, get your shit together."

She has to be self motivated. I am not going to micro-manage her school work. I am not going to stand over her and make her study every night. I am not emailing her teachers to give her extra credit. I'm just not.

I don't know what it was that finally "clicked" in her but she actually *GASP* listened to me. Guess what? This semester she made the honor roll. For the first time in 3 in a half years. Not only did she make the honor roll, she made an A in Algebra. She is so happy and I'm proud of her.

She is an all-around great kid but I don't believe she is perfect by any means and that's not to say we don't have our disagreements. Just the other weekend, I dropped her off at the mall with a friend. I gave her some money to buy a pretzel and a little something for herself. When I picked her up she had a bag from Pacsun.

"What did you get?" I asked.
She pulled out this cropped tank top that was skimpy as hell. "Do you like it?" she asked.

God. This is a test. My visceral reaction was: That shirt is slutty. Who does she think she is? You are going to march her ass back into the store and make her take it back and show her that you are the PARENT and she is the CHILD. Then, on the way home you are going to give her a lecture about modesty and being an appropriate young woman. 

I had to check myself then. Stop being a judgmental asshole. You don't believe in slut shaming. Insisting that she take the shirt back will only cause a huge argument and put space inbetween us. Is it worth it to feel like you have power and control? Does she really need another lecture? Doesn't she already know your feelings about most everything? 

All these things were running through my head. I thought very carefully before I spoke. This is how I responded, "I really like the color. It's not something you could wear to school or something dad and I would approve of you wearing out and about. But you could definitely wear it in the house, or under a V-neck tee or maybe with the summer coming up, over your bathing suit top at the beach or the pool."

"Yeah, I was thinking maybe with high-waisted jeans and like, a sweater," she added.

Then, that was it. She put the shirt back in the bag and we went on our way. I felt conflicted. Did I do the right thing? I felt I did the right thing for my kid and it is indicative of my parenting style. But I questioned myself.

The next day, I sent her off to school and late that morning I got a text from her: Mom, can we go back to the mall tonight? I want to take back that shirt I got. It's not really my style.

I was like:

          

That's what we did. She returned the shirt and got an adorable, mom-approved striped tee. Without me bitching, without a battle, she used good judgement and I felt vindicated. I love moments like that.

We got back in the car to drive home, she put on Symphony Number 25 in G minor and hummed along. I glanced over at her and remarked at how beautiful she has become. My big girl.

The Little One

        \
Things in my house are changing, transforming. They have been for years, I guess but when you are in the midst of it you don't realize it. Then one day, you wake up and suddenly things are different.

My youngest daughter is my strong willed child. When she was younger, we called her our highly explosive, chronically inflexible child. In spite of this, she was always my loving child. If I was sitting down, she was in my lap. She was sweet as pie.

Then, in the beginning of 5th grade, someone took my sweet child and replaced her with a grumpy, eye-rolling young lady. No more hugs, extreme embarrassment at being seen with me in public, general disdain for my existence.

This has been extremely difficult. While I don't take it personally, it's hurts my heart. However, the last few months have been better. She's leveled out a little bit. She lets me talk when we are out in public, sometimes she even will hang out with us.

She was obsessed with not having a Valentine for Valentines Day. Which is ridiculous, because she is in 6th grade and home schooled, but whatever. A few days before Valentines Day, she asked if we could be each other's Valentine.

I was surprised. It was unlike her. "You want ME to be YOUR Valentine?"
She shrugged, "Sure, we can go out to lunch and watch a romantic movie together."
"Okay."

She did a short school day that day and we went our for hoagies together and watched Revenge of the Bridesmaids. She sat right next to me on the couch and leaned her head on my shoulder. I was in heaven.

We picked up my oldest from school that day and took Hollister boy home as he had a gift for my oldest. He came out with a stuffed panda and a giant box of chocolates but he had another box of chocolates and a letter which he gave to my youngest. I thought that was a sweet gesture. She was beyond thrilled.

She read the letter but wouldn't let me read it. Typical. I dropped her off from gymnastics that day and I did what any nosey mom would do- I read the letter. The gist of it was- I know you are sad that you don't have a Valentine but one day you will have a Valentine, and that person will be so lucky because you are amazing, never sell yourself short, be happy.....You know, words of wisdom coming from a 14 year old boy. It was a big brother type thing. I smiled and left it in her room with her chocolates.

That night when I picked her up - she chatted excitedly about gymnastics. She was happy. We sang along to Micheal Jackson's "Say You'll Be There." She had me cracking up. "Remember Free Willy? I don't understand all of these kids that are obsessed with saving whales, making tails for dolphins, finding fish....."

I worry about her sometimes because her likes are so eclectic. I think she sometimes has a hard time relating to kids her own age. Take her taste in music - she loves showntunes. LOVES. We listen to Hamilton, Anything Goes, Chicago, Jesus Christ Superstar, Phantom of the Opera, Les Mis.....she knows them all. She LOVES Micheal Jackson, Frank Sinatra, anything 80s, japanese baby metal and modern rock. She's the coolest.

Her favorite movie is Dirty Dancing and when she's not doing gymnastics, she's reading manga or watching anime. She loves Japanese culture and shopping. She is extremely sarcastic and has a dry sense of humor and is so smart. Like, brilliant.

She is toying around with the idea of going back to school next year. If she does, she can start taking some high school credit since she is 2 years ahead in math. She recently has started asking questions about college and how that all works and has expressed interest in possibly joining the Air Force. The other day she said, "The thing is, I don't know exactly what I want to do. There are just so many options!"

I laughed, "Well, you are only 11 so you have LOTS of time to figure it out."
"What if we go to Japan and I want to move to Japan?" she asked.
"Well, then move to Japan. Me and dad will have somewhere fun to visit."

I hope she has lots of adventures in her lifetime, most of all - I hope she's happy.

This is where we are now. This new person, with glimpses of my little girl. She still won't willingly hug me if I ask, but sometimes she hugs me out of nowhere. I savor those moments. She will fist bump me if I ask, so that's progress.

This is the new reality for me. That in this blur of parenthood, we traded naps, sippy cups and bedtime stories for pre-Algebra, push-up up bras and talks about joining the Air Force. If I think about it too much, I will fall apart. It hits me randomly and I have a good cry (far way from the children) and then put myself together and move forward.

That's all I know how to do.

Love is Not a Linear Thing

Here is my obligatory anniversary post. We just celebrated 17 years together (coming up on 16 years married in June). I think it's ridiculous - we're only like 21. haha. I've always done the math as the years have gone by - we've been together for 1/4 of my life, a 1/3 of my life.... Seventeen years marks a half of my life. After that day, I've been tethered to him longer than I haven't. That gives me pause.

We were teenagers when we fell in love- so young. I remember that everyone around me discounted it, but I didn't care. I knew that the feeling that I had was as close as I'd come to understanding love. I needed him like I needed air in my lungs, he was the sun in my sky and there was absolutely nothing I (or anyone else) could have done to stop it. When we were together it was like a thousand lightning bolts running through me. It was a beautiful time- we were young and carefree and everything was fresh and new. It was long kisses on chilly New Jersey summer nights, and holding hands in the hallway between classes, and going to the movies and a little bit of sneaking around. We both treasure that time and re-visit it occasionally. There a few things better in life than being young and in love.

But, we are older now and have a teenage daughter of our own (I'll have 2 teenage daughters in 16 months) and that complicates things a little bit. People say things to me like, "Don't tell my kid that you married your high school sweetheart," "Do your kids know?", or "You wouldn't endorse that to your children do you?" People get really butt hurt about it.

We've never kept it a secret from them (also, they can do math) but I certainly don't endorse teenagers getting married. I always tell them they need to wait until they finish college to get married AT LEAST. I talk about our struggles very openly. It's not easy to be married and support yourself at the age of 18. I also had 2 kids while I was in college which was extremely difficult. I remind my kids all the time that their father and I are exceptions to the rule. Most teen marriages end in divorce in the first 10 years, most live in poverty, only 19% of married teens attend college and of those, only 2% earn a degree.

The children have only remembered us to have a happy marriage (we always joke that the first 9 years of our marriage were the toughest - since then it's been blissful). A few weeks ago, we were sitting with each other, curled up on the couch watching a movie and laughing. He kissed me on the forehead. My oldest daughter was sitting across from us on the love seat. "You and dad are goals," she said.

In teenage talk, goals is short for relationship goals which is a slang term to describe a power couple, a couple that every couple aspires to be like. I was surprised that she said that but I felt weird about it. Like, I'm happy that she thinks we have a good relationship but I also don't want her to think people get married when they are teenagers and it just works out fine and dandy. You know?

They are forming their opinions about these things and they are paying attention. They're interest is piqued a little- it's that age. At the end of one of the snow days, my husband was back at work but school was still out. I lit a fire, fixed myself a cup of coffee, and sat down to watch How To Make An American Quilt. It's one of my favorites. My oldest came down to join me. The movie tells the tale of different women's love stories. In one of the stories, a young couple falls in love and they have children and life gets in the way and eventually the husband leaves and never comes back.

My daughter was horrified. "He just left her? They loved each other! They had 3 kids!" She is still figuring things out. "They fell out of love with each other. They made plans to see the world but life and children happened. When they got married, they were different people. She changed and he didn't. I'm not saying that it was okay for him to leave but it happens all the time. Marriage is not a fairy tale. Love is not a linear thing. It can be messy and complicated sometimes."
"Do you think that could happen to you and dad?"
That was a loaded question. "I don't have a crystal ball and I don't intend on it. Besides, if he tries to leave - I'll follow him. He'd never escape that easily."

But it's true- people fall out of love all the time and in long term marriages you fall in and out of love. I wish I knew the secret or had some grand advice about how love is supposed to be. All I know is that I hope that they find someone someday that treats them the way their father treats me, to be their best friend, to make them laugh and feel beautiful. To be committed to building a life together, to hang on when things are rough. Someone willing to wake up with them at 2 am to clean up vomit and kiss them afterwards. AFTER COLLEGE. What more can you ask for?

We are a strange couple. When we first got together, we had nothing in common. We both liked hoagies and being on each other. That was it. If we are struggling, we just go back to basics. "Ummmm.....I know you are pissed at me but you wanna go get hoagies and be on each other?" LOL. When we first got married we would go to the movies and see different movies because our tastes were so different. He is quiet, I am a talker. I could never be married to someone like myself- no one would get a word in edge wise. He is technical and I am emotional. It's worked out because we both make up for the skills that the other lacks and balance out each other's flaws.

We are still working on growing up but we're doing it together. We are forgiving of each other's shortfalls and we just try to be be there for each other. We try to still keep it interesting.

Last week, I got home from picking our youngest up from gymnastics. It was a warm, clear night. I sent her upstairs to shower and pulled a blanket into the front yard and laid it across the grass. Then, I went to track down my husband. He was in the kitchen giving the cat treats. "Close your eyes and come with me," I said.
"Why?" he asked.
"It's a surprise."
He looked at me suspiciously but held his hand out to mine and closed his eyes.

I led him outside and stood him in front of the blanket. "Okay, lay down."
He did and I laid down too and curled up next to him.
"Open your eyes."
He did. "What are we doing?"
"Looking at the stars."

We did. I pointed to the sky, "Do you see that?" I said, "That's Orion."
"No it's not."
"I know. I just wanted you to think I knew about stars."
He laughed. We laid out there for a long time - star gazing and talking about UFOs and making jokes.

Someone walked by with their dog.
"They are going to think we're weirdos, laying here in the front yard," he whispered to me.
"That's because we are weirdos," I whispered back.

I nuzzled into him and his beard brushed my face. He smelled like old spice and soap. And a thousand lightning bolts ran through me.

It Finally Happened

                          

Last week was eventful. My weeks usually are but this time it was in a good way. I took my girls to the Lana Del Rey concert last Tuesday. She is one of my faves, I am a big time fan girl. I love her music, she's poetic, kind of vintage and she has a sadness about her that I can relate to. I was so darn excited. My kids really like her too- especially my oldest. Other kids like Taylor Swift and One Direction - my kids like Lana Del Rey and Two Steps from Hell. That's how we roll.

We drove up and listened to all of her albums. We were pumped. We went to dinner at this amazing Japanese restaurant - we had tempura, a ramen bowl, green tea ice cream. The girls chatted excitedly about the concert, our upcoming trip, school. It was really nice- just the three of us. Then we headed to the arena. We had nosebleeds (because that's what I could afford) but we had a good view of the stage so it was fine.

She was so pretty and her voice sounded so good. We sang along and got litty (as the kids would say). It was a really amazing. It was a bucket list item for me. I let the kids pay hooky the next day and we napped. Bad Mom Award.

The rest of the week was a whirl wind, I cleaned, drove kids around, had an amazing dinner downtown with friends and the Super Bowl on Sunday.

We don't watch football in my house but we always watch the Super Bowl. It's an excuse to eat chicken wings and yell at the TV. This year was even better because our team was playing. My husband and I grew up 45 minutes outside of Philly. My mom, dad, grandparents were born in Philly so we grew up Eagles fans by default.

Where we're from, everyone walks around in Eagles jerseys - it's Eagles country. When I was a kid, I knew that Sundays ( and sometimes Monday nights) in the fall would be spent with my dad in front of TV. It wasn't just the games though- football season at our house started when training camp began and didn't end until the Eagles were out of the season. Every time we were in the car, my dad would put on 610 WIP Sports Talk and I listened as they driveled on endlessly about Rich Kotite and Randall Cunningham. I was a 12 year old girl, I could care less, to be honest.

"Dad, can we just put on the radio?" I'd groan. He'd be like
                    

The Eagles were actual shit. Terrible. My entire childhood, my entire life. They sucked. In spite of this,  every year my father was pumped. He was convinced that THIS YEAR was the year that the Eagles were going to get their championship. He was so hopeful that HIS team that he believed in and had followed his whole life, was going to come through for him.

I used to pray for the Eagles to win because depending on how the football game went on Sunday, that's how your week would go. If the Eagles lost on Sunday, my dad would be in a shit mood all week. You knew that if the Eagles bombed on Sunday, you were getting grounded on Monday for no reason at all. You wouldn't even ask to go out with friends. But if they won - good times would be had by all. Every Sunday, I'd be like Dear God. Please let the Eagles win. I need a new pair of boots and there is a party on Friday....

That seems crazy now. How can football affect someone so much? Then I grew up and I had an epiphany about it. My dad was in his 30s, living in New Jersey. It was cold and miserable. Property taxes were high as hell. He had 4 terrible children, a wife that hated him, a job he disliked. What else was there to live for? Maybe Eagles football was the only thing keeping him from ending it all. Sundays were the one time he didn't have to deal with anyone and he could just forget about all the other shit. Bless that man, I don't know how he did it.

I was pumped that the Eagles made it to the Super Bowl this year but annoyed that the Patriots made to the Super Bowl again. I kind of hate the Patriots. I would have rooted against any team that played the Patriots. I feel like everyone is a Patriots fan- it's so cliche. Also, I think Tom Brady is douche-y for leaving his pregnant wife. This is me every time the Patriots win a Super Bowl:
                

I made a big spread for the game. We had a hoagies, wings, buffalo dip, chips with salsa and guacamole, egg rolls, pizza rolls, chips and dip. I went all in for just my family and my brother. I invited my dad over but he said he was to anxious to be around other people. He was probably right.

My brother came over to watch the game with us, which made me happy.  My kids were excited for the Eagles but my brother and I were trying to remind them not to get their hopes up. "Listen, we've seen this before. Be cautiously optimistic - the Eagles don't just go around winning Super Bowls." and "Y'all don't even know how many ass whoopings we have endured because of the Philadelphia Eagles." My brother had me dying, "Being an Eagles fan prepares you for life. You learn to endure many, many years of suffering and disappointment. It's a metaphor."

We were on the edge of our seats the whole game- there was screaming, there was yelling, there was praying. I went full New Jersey and may have called Tom Brady as p*ssy. It was a little out of control. The game was coming to an end and the Eagles were ahead but my brother and I REFUSED to get excited until the game was over because the Patriots can score 8 touchdowns in 30 seconds.

The clock ran down and the Eagles had won it. We were in disbelief, my brother asked me to pinch him, we all screamed, cheered, jumped around and cried actual tears. We didn't have fireworks so we did the next best thing - we banged pots and pans outside and we cheered, "GO EAGLES!" Sometimes, we like to remind our neighbors that they live next to white trash.

Most of all, I missed my dad. I wished he was there with us. I texted him: I'm happy for you, daddy. I know you waited a lifetime for this. I love you. 

It was an amazing night. If the Eagles can win a Super Bowl and beat the Patriots - anything is possible. That means there is hope in hopeless situations. It means that sometimes with enough work, the little guy can get ahead. Or maybe not, maybe it's just football.

There was a little bit of magic in last week. It made me sooooo happy.