Hear no evil

Isn't there a statue with some monkeys - one is covering his eyes, the other his ears and the third his mouth? See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil, right? Lately, I've been hearing some things and seeing some things that I really really really hope my children aren't noticing. I know they pick up on the slightest things, so I hope some of the whoppers lately will quickly leave their memory. It started the other day when Sabrina and I were on line at the store waiting to pay for our gas. The lady in front of us was taking a very long time getting herself together and couldn't seem to locate the lottery tickets she just purchased and refused to believe that they were actually in her hand. Thankfully, Sabrina was too engrossed in talking about the pink snowballs on the shelf to notice the woman who probably hasn't seen a razor in a good 30 years. She was wearing a tank top and it's not like she even had her arms up but the hair was long enough to reach out and touch someone! Had my little one seen this, I am positive she would have said something. She thinks armpit hair is hysterical (just ask her dad). So, she didn't notice that, but she did notice the woman with the lip ring at the grocery store and managed to loudly mention it to me several times before we left and then again in the parking lot. Gotta love kids. At least my 8-year-old doesn't blurt stuff like that out anymore. She just stares at people and waits till later to talk about them.

Did you ever have one of those experiences where someone says something and you flinch and cringe and quietly pray that your child didn't hear it? The past few days have also brought some conversations I wish the kids hadn't heard. The oldest hears everything. My mom keeps telling her she's going to be a lawyer because she asks so many questions and has to know (down to the most minor detail) what everyone is talking about at all times.

We were at the craft store doing a project and someone used the word "abortion". Really? I mean, it was very innocent. We were talking about a composer being deaf and how she once saw a pro-life ad saying abortion could have killed Beethoven. Anyway, it was just the word. It's not something I want to explain to my 8-year-old. Then, at the library, a performer said "say no to drugs." Great message, yes, but do I want to tell my kids what drugs are? The other day, I told them we were going to the drug store and Caty said "Mom, drugs are bad." Part of me thinks this is the reason to explain to her what drugs are. She's the kind of kid that wants to know what everything is about, right? And just because something is considered bad, it won't stop her. It might actually make it more interesting!

I know I have to have these conversations with my kids some day. But, today is not that day. They are too young. They shouldn't have to know about stuff like that yet. Bad enough I had to explain the dead turtle in the tank or why mommy has to wear "diapers" (their word, not mine) once a month (okay, too much information, I know).

I want my babies to be like those little monkeys for a bit longer. I don't want evil in their lives - ever - but when it comes, I'd rather be the one to explain it to them instead of their friends. But, before I do, I might need an instruction manual! Better yet, I'll just get my dad to do it.

My mom

Today is my mom's birthday and I just thought that in all the talking I do about my own parenting skills (or lack thereof) I rarely mention my own parents. My mom doesn't like me to talk about her - especially not publicly. I never understood why. She has a very interesting history. Her parents were taken from their native Poland to a Nazi labor camp during World War II. My mom was actually born in the camp before they escaped to Italy. They then moved to England where she grew up with her younger sister and two younger brothers. She had a really tough life and came to the States by herself when she was about 19. She worked as a nanny (how cliche!) and then met my dad. She had my sister when she was 25 and was told she had cervical cancer and couldn't have more kids. Ten months later, I was born and they immediately operated to make sure she didn't have any more children. My parents divorced when I was about 7 and my mom worked full-time, raised us, sent my sister and me to Catholic school and then onto college. Don't ask me how. My sister was a very good daughter. She was very smart and responsible. She got up on time, always did her homework, didn't disobey rules and helped around the house. Then there was me. Did you ever see that movie Twins with Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny DeVito. Well, they attempted to make the perfect child (Arnold) and accidentally created some funky DNA and got an extra kid (DeVito). The perfect child was smart and kind and worldly and handsome and good-hearted and healthy and strong. The extra kid was not any of those things. He was a swindler, not good-looking, weak, mean.... you get the picture. So, that's kind of how I feel sometimes when I come my sister and me. I was the screw-up for sure. I did okay in school but never worked up to my potential. I dropped out of college when I was younger. I tried drugs. I smoked. I drank. I stayed out until all hours of the night. I used to cut up in school and get in trouble. I was always late. I was absent all the time and just forged my mom's signature on school notes. I got into fights. I shaved my head. I got a tattoo. I didn't really think about consequences. My mom used to always tell me she hoped some day I had a daughter who was just like me so I knew what it was like to be treated that way. She got her wish (and then some!) But, one thing I remember realizing when I was a kid was that I used to try soooo hard to impress my father but never really did anything special to impress my mom. I used to worry that my dad wouldn't make it to my special events or that he would miss me in the dance recital, but I didn't give a second thought to my mom. You know why? Because my mom was always there. No matter what I did or how bad I screwed up, she was always there. She was always proud of me and she always told me she loved me. That's her present to me.

Focus

Have you ever told your children to pay attention? I know I have. But I'm not really sure they even know what it means. Sometimes, I'll tell them to look at me when I am talking to them because if I don't, they'll be looking at the television or the dog or the window or the wall or whatever else is nearby. I bet when they do look at me, they're not really looking at me. You know, they do that thing where they stare at your nose and still don't pay attention to a word you say. And then I talk and all they hear is "blah blah blah" like I'm an adult in a Charlie Brown cartoon. These days, it seems every child in the world has some form of ADD or ADHD. Listen, I'm not belittling anyone or taking away from those kids who have legitimate issues. But, it's just too easy these days for people to blame that disorder and give their kids pills and do nothing else. I may be wrong, but my thought is that these diagnoses are made because a child will focus intently on one thing like television or video games, but then not be able to focus at all on other things like their parents, homework or chores. Seriously? This is a disorder? No. This is childhood. Who can blame these kids? If you let your child play their handheld video game in the car, at the dinner table and in bed, are you just expecting them to say "Oh, thank you mother, but I would much rather sit quietly at my desk and review multiplication tables." Come on! Wake up! Everywhere you go these days, kids are thumbing something - texting their friends on their $400 phones or playing games on their PSPs. How can you, as a parent, allow that to happen while you and your husband chat over fried cheese at TGIFridays? Why are not talking to your kids? Oh, wait, because you don't want to? And then you say they have ADHD? Engage them in conversation for crying out loud! Listen, I know my kids lack focus. I say they get it from their father. He could focus on ESPN even if there was a tornado, alien attack and Victoria's Secret runway show in the same room. But, dollars to donuts, he will walk past the same dirty sock on the floor 500 times and not see it. It's not a disorder. It's almost like tunnel vision or having blinders on. People see what they want to see. My kids would rather jump on the steps and sing Demi Lovato songs instead of paying attention and putting on their shoes. They would rather stare at their beauty marks in the mirror than brush their teeth. I'm sure as they get older, they will doodle instead of pay attention in class. I'm not going to label that behavior and give them medication, that's for sure. I just think that focus is.... oh, wait, something good just came on television.....