Monthly Archives: March 2010

Motherhood poses a lot of challenges, and different ones at various ages in the lives of our children.  When mine were younger and could barely speak, I had total control over their lives, or it felt that way.  Friends commented on how often I was throwing them in the car to go places and see things.  “The tall ships are coming into San Pedro.  Let’s gooooo!” I’d say and they’d look at me like, uh, okay, as if they had a choice.  Nine times out of ten, they had a great time.  Undoubtedly, they’d fall asleep in the car on the way home, I’d haul them in and make dinner, we’d bathe, read a book, bed.  Life was perfect; or at least, that’s how I remember it.  When people asked where I found the energy, I’d tell them that coffee fueled my day and that my excursions with the girls were part self-preservation and part necessary mothering.  If I didn’t leave the house with them, chances are I’d never really spend “quality” time with them at home.  “Will you play a game with me?” was often answered, “Just a sec.  Let me finish my work/the dishes/laundry/vacuuming/organizing/reading People magazine.”  In other words, at home, it was nearly impossible for them to get my undivided attention.  Out there in the world, before iPhones and Blackberrys were everywhere, it was possible to focus solely on them, to watch them learn, laugh, discover, stumble, grow.  It was exhausting, but it was wonderful.

Today was Day Six of spring break in the year 2010.  I no longer tell the girls where we’re going on any given day.  I make suggestions, all of which they think are horrible.  “I bet if we head to the Getty today, we could see the ocean.  We could roll down the grass hills,” I offer.  Or a simple “Let’s go for a hike” gets this response: “NOOOO.  I’ll do anything but that!”  So when I then tell them we need to wash the dog and then take her to the dog park, it’s like I’ve threatened to give them nothing but chicken liver and asparagus for breakfast, lunch AND dinner until they clean their rooms to my satisfaction.  Or worse, I’ve suggested we visit the Norton Simon Museum to look at the French Impressionists.  OMG Mom, you might as well forget to wear clothes when you pick me up from school!  But here’s the thing.  When I get so frustrated and order them in the car because we’re going to Descanso Gardens whether they like it or not (and with friends to boot), they have a great time like they did this past Monday.  My record is no longer a nine out of ten, but it’s still an eight out of ten.  That’s not bad.  So how come the whole process seems infinitely more difficult?  People warned me of this.  They said my children would eventually learn how to speak and have opinions of their own.  I was also told they’d develop unique personalities that would sometimes come into conflict with my own.  Did I think they were lying?  Or that my kids were so special this couldn’t possibly happen to them, or me?

Still, I know things.  During my ten years of mothering and my 40+ years of living, I know more than they do.  I know that a hike in Griffith Park will turn out to be more fun than Typing Pal on the computer.  I know that walking on the sand at the beach and kicking a soccer ball will make their cheeks rosy and checking out videos on You Tube will not.  My oldest fought me over going to see “How to Train Your Dragon” yesterday because, well she’s ten going on twenty-two, and a dragon movie, Mom?  Really?  She and I liked it even more than the other four kids we were with.  Why?  Because it has a message that a ten-year-old can understand, even hiding behind the cloak of a cute 3D film.  And she is only ten.  Besides, I was taking them to the Black Eyed Peas concert later that night, which was totally inappropriate but a super cool thing for me to do.  Like the dragon-movie lesson, Goldie was also the only one of my three girls to make out the F-bombs that Will.i.am. dropped during his amazingly spontaneous hip-hop routine.  And did I mention I want to be Fergie for just one night?

I’m getting off track.  I’m frustrated.  I’m a mother raising opinionated young women and that makes me happy.  At the same time, I don’t want their opinions.  I just want them to come with me and get out of the house so I CAN BE WITH THEM.  Mothering in the confines of these four walls (we have more, actually) is about getting meals, straightening up, folding laundry, answering emails, writing Daily Cup of Jo, sweeping the kitchen floor because WOW, when the sun comes in at that angle it looks like there’s an entire meal down there and who else is going to do it?  I’m not a neat freak, just someone who gets emotionally bogged down with clutter.  And as much as I like to joke with anyone who will listen that my kids drive me insane and I’m not really cut out for all this motherhood crap, the truth is being their mom is the best part of my life.  But not the cleaning, cooking, wiping runny noses part.  I’m talking about the part where I get to watch them discover the world and all the different people in it.  I’m referring to the time when Goldie was nearly three, pressing her nose up to the glass at the aquarium down in Long Beach.  There was wonder on her face at all the different colors the fish came in and then “What’s your name?” she asked the little girl who happened to be standing next to her.  I’m talking about two years ago when Bun-Bun taught Miss T how to ride a two-wheeler up at a campground in Santa Barbara, and I’m talking about last night when all three girls rolled their eyes and looked the other way when their mom sang “Boom Boom Pow” at the top of her lungs as she jumped up and down with her fists in the air.  I’m not claiming that precious moments don’t happen here at the house.  They do.  But more often than not, I’m the mean mom at home, the naggy one, the short tempered one, the kind of mother who kids don’t call everyday when they’re all grown up because that mother was a big, fat drag.  It’s no fun being that mother.  They know it.  I know it, and I know a whole lot more.  I know that for a few more years, I should still be the bad guy and order them out of the house for field trips to parks, playgrounds, concerts and culture because I’m still batting eight out of ten.  And pretty soon, no matter what I say, they won’t go with me anywhere for a while and they’ll notice things by themselves and find out truths and secrets without me.

I’m sure that’ll be one of the saddest days of my life (and possibly one of the proudest).

Don't go to Quizno's without one.

You’re walking your dog in the neighborhood.  The dog does its job and leaves a nice gift on your neighbor’s lawn.  Bending over with plastic bag in hand, you’re pleased to see it’s solid and easy to grab.  Tying the knot, you suddenly notice a hole at the bottom of the bag and look at your fingers.  They’re brown.  You make a face just as the smell slams you in the nostrils.  That’s about the same face you could make were you to contemplate the oh-so-messy divorce of Frank and Jamie McCourt.  Frank owns the Los Angeles Dodgers and has been married to Jamie for 30 years.  They have four grown sons.  She had an affair.  We’re not sure of his alleged misdeeds, other than possible fraud and charging too much to park a car in one of his lots.  Oh, and the price of Dodger dogs?  What are they now, $12.50?  Jamie is asking for one million dollars a month to live her life, and so I got to thinking.  How could I live on one million a month?  I’d have to paint my own toenails, for sure.  And if the girls wanted a haircut, I’d have them pull up a chair in the kitchen and do it myself.  An extra can of beans in the chili would make it go twice as far.  And clipping coupons?  Well, that’s a given.  I’ve heard there’s an art to paying less than retail for just about anything and I’m ready to take on the challenge.  Better yet, let’s take it on together.

Many of you are probably much better already at this than I.  Perhaps you can leave your own advice in the comments.  In the meantime, here are some of my thoughts.

Target.  Not only are name brand groceries cheaper than store brand at other places; you can get coupons to make them even cheaper.  Click here for Target savings.  I LOVE THIS STORE.

There are thousands of ways to get printable coupons online, but time is money so you don’t want to spend your days searching.  Coupons.com is very comprehensive, as is Couponcabin.com and CouponMom.com.  They tend to have the same products, from groceries to professional services depending on where you live, so visiting one of them will suffice.  SmartSource.com tends to have some additional items, strictly for groceries.  In my area, Ralphs and Vons double their coupons, though they do have limits.  Check with your local grocery store to see if they do the same.  And don’t ever shop at a chain supermarket without getting their discount card.  It takes about fifteen seconds to obtain one.  Without it, you may as well burn the extra money you spend in front of the cashier.  (And don’t forget Sunday’s newspaper for those reliable paper coupons you cut out with scissors.)

The same holds true for a local store in the western United States: Bed, Bath and Beyond.  If you ever purchase anything there without bringing in their ubiquitous 20% off one item coupon, their checkout people will look at you like you’re an idiot because in fact, you will be.  You might actually hear them say tsk-tsk under their breath.  And don’t worry about the expiration date.  They’ll honor it regardless.  Can’t find one in your pile of mail?  Go to their website, give them your email and they’ll send you one immediately.  As a matter of fact, don’t go out shopping without Googling “coupons” for the store(s) where you’ll be going.  There’s no reason to shop Jo-Ann Fabrics without getting money off, as well as hundreds of other retailers.

If you live in Southern California, chances are you’re near a Vallarta supermarket, or one of many Latin grocers.  I save, on average, thirty dollars a month by buying my fruits and veggies there.  Multiply that by twelve and you’ve got almost four hundred more dollars a year in your pocket (or your bank account).  Especially in the summer, when my girls devour peaches, strawberries, nectarines and pineapple, it’s worth going a mile or two out of my way.  (The rest of their groceries seem comparable, if not more expensive than my supermarket.)

I didn’t mention Walmart because it’s too far away from my house, really yucky and I bought into that whole “they don’t pay fair wages and so their employees end up on the dole” scandal.  I also didn’t mention Trader Joe’s because, honestly, we should be paying them for allowing us to shop there.  Great prices and, really, other than the parking, is there a better place in the world?  TJ should run for President someday.

There’s so much more, but I never set out to be BargainBabe.  Check out her site.  She works really hard to save money for us all and provides some interesting content, too.

And look, I’m sorry about the dog poop thing earlier.  Ever since coming out about my delight in all things fart-related, I feel like an alcoholic who finally admits they have a problem.  There’s this freedom I didn’t expect, like I’m sitting on a pink cloud.  Unfortunately, there is no support group for this particular condition so I’ll probably just be sharing about it on this here blog.  I apologize again, and in advance.

Regarding saving money and living on less than a million a month, I’ll share my discoveries as I come across them.  I hope you’ll do the same.

…for myriad countless reasons.  The last time I took a spontaneous trip to surprise someone, I flew from New York to Los Angeles for my mother’s 60^th birthday.  I wore a flowered dress and, while I did arrive under cover of darkness, emerging from a backroom in my sister’s house, there were no photographers and no fanfare other than my mom’s smile.  Saturday night in Washington, Obama donned a bomber jacket and flew to Afghanistan to surprise the troops.  Nice gesture but how fun is that?  Although it appears the reception he got was more than my mother’s “I knew you were coming” look.  Obama met with Karzai, told him to knock off the graft, watched some NCAA with the troops and left.  Yesterday, I was home folding laundry…

…because that’s what I do.  I fold laundry.  For some reason, this last month, I have had more socks to match up, more tiny underpants to sort and more fitted sheets to roll up in a ball than any other period in the life of this family.  I hate folding fitted sheets.  Oh, I know how.  I just don’t like it.  The last time President Obama folded a pair of boxers or asked Sasha and Malia whom the pig pajama bottoms belonged to was, hmmm…let me think…NEVER.  All right, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be President.

It’s 2016 and I’m stumping in Iowa.  A reporter asks, “Why now?  What made you want to become the leader of the free world?”

I put on my thoughtful face and answer, “Because I just didn’t want to do laundry anymore.”

Had I a do-over, I would’ve sucked up more to my friends with vacation homes so I wouldn’t now be facing fourteen days of spring break with nowhere to go.  Wow, that sounded so pathetic.  I pity the children who have to hang out with me over the next two weeks.  Actually, all joking aside, I live in a city where there is no shortage of activities to engage the kids.  Today, we’re heading to Descanso Gardens because I can’t get enough of these springtime smells and Bun-Bun has to do some research for a class project.  Check out gocitykids.parentsconnect.com for a comprehensive list of all there is to do in your area.  Under “your neighborhood”, click on “choose a city” and then go and have some fun.

One could say Baylor should’ve played better, but up until the last three minutes, they looked pretty good.  They were ahead more than once, but Duke finished strong.  The Final Four – West Virginia vs. Duke and Michigan St. vs. Butler – will play Saturday in Indianapolis.  And I would be remiss, seeing as I have three daughters, to neglect to mention the Women’s NCAA.  Among the Elite Eight, Stanford takes on Xavier tonight.  Also this evening, the Baylor women can redeem their school by beating Duke.  Tuesday night, it’s UConn vs. Florida St. and Kentucky vs. Oklahoma.  Watch the ladies on ESPN.

The question that the Rev. Maryetta Anschutz asked the congregation yesterday during her sermon was, “Have you been a bystander?”  You could have heard a pin drop.  I discovered later that even my girls heard the question.  Who says kids don’t listen?  Clearly, she hit a note with all of us.  After admitting to her own shortcomings in the area of standing-by, we couldn’t help question our individual decisions throughout life to look the other way, pass the buck or shrug our shoulders when we should have, in too many situations, been getting out hands dirty and advocating.  At the dinner table last night, I asked Miss T if she would be a bystander during a perceived injustice and she quickly replied, “No.  That’s a bad thing.”  At school, they’re learning the terms associated with bullying and I’m happy to see some of it is sinking in.

Ten days and counting until Tiger Woods is back on the links at The Masters in Augusta, Georgia.  Do you think Elin will be home folding laundry?

Quick movie review from the weekend: “Hot Tub Time Machine” was silly and funny, though I thought it easily could’ve been sillier and funnier.  That dragon movie raked in the dough and got great reviews, so I’ll be taking the girls sometime this week.  Who wants to join me?  Unless you have a vacation home, in which case…

Memories, light the corners of my mind. (photo from my backyard)

Spring has sprung with a vengeance in Los Angeles.  As much as my perfect day is reading a book or watching a football game in front of a roaring fire while rain falls outside, I’d say there was something terribly wrong with me if I couldn’t appreciate the beauty that Southern California offered this morning.

I took a quick run up in the hills and the smells I smelled reminded me of my childhood.  I grew up in an area of Los Angeles that was once filled with orange groves.  On our property, we had ten orange trees, in addition to a persimmon tree that a family from down the street picked clean every other year.  None of us ever asked what they did with them.  I imagined they boiled it down and cooked it into some awful pie that they made their children eat.  When I was older, I kicked myself for letting all that precious fruit go to waste.  Have you ever had good persimmon pudding bread?  Yum.

The orange blossoms this morning shot me back to the 1970s.  It was a little like “Hot Tub Time Machine”, but without all the drugs and sex.  For whatever reason, I thought about the afternoons when my friend Sharon and I would climb up the lattice to the roof of the garage.  From there, we’d take a running start toward the part of my house that had a barn sloped roof and we’d scramble up the wooden shingles and steady ourselves on the top.  Forget about splinters – we got plenty of those – two false moves and we would’ve been heading to the ER.  After landing safely, we’d then hoist ourselves up to the very top of our two story house near the weathervane, where one false move would’ve killed us.  Not only was no one telling us to be careful, no one was telling us anything.  There wasn’t even a concerned neighbor to warn my parents that the tomfoolery was taking place.  Cars went by and not a soul shouted up to us, “Get down from there!”  No.  It was the good old days when kids got in and out of scrapes faster than you can say “playdate” or “inside voice”.

My husband and I did see “Hot Tub Time Machine” Saturday night because sometimes you just have to give in and laugh at stupid things.  But between this morning’s contemplation and the plot device in the movie, I couldn’t help wondering how certain people would hold up their childhoods to their adult lives.  Is being a grown-up what you thought it was going to be like when you were nine?  Didn’t it seem like your mother or father was soooooo much older when they were thirty-seven?  Forty?  Surely, they would’ve never written a short essay about farts.  And yet words come out of my mouth sometimes that are not mine, but my mother’s.  Just this morning, during a stunning breakfast at the beach, I actually told Miss T to do something because “I said so.”  I like being the boss of them almost as much as they hate it.  Am I who I expected to be when I thought about being a grown-up thirty years ago?  No, no, no, no, NO.  And that’s not all bad and it’s not all good.  It’s when I remind myself of George Eliot’s famous quote:  it is never too late to be what you might have been.

Crazy week.  How ‘bout you?  The girls started spring break yesterday for SEVENTEEN DAYS.  Expect more parenting observations than usual on this here Daily Cup of Jo.

Imagine you’re sitting at a sidewalk café on a Saturday afternoon.  I know a lot of people are, in fact, doing just that.  I saw them from the inside of my minivan while I was shuttling around this morning and I pictured myself sitting next to them, sipping a latte, smoking a cigarette, gesticulating with my hands because I’m trying to make a point.  Too often, I’m trying to make a point.  Today’s post will be no different.

The nation: let’s get the health care bill out of the way first, shall we?  The wackadoos are out there threatening to do very bad things if Republicans can’t figure out a way to repeal the legislation.  To them I say, time heals everything.  Breathe.  It’s all going to be okay.  You’ll see.  Change is hard.  Put the gun down.  Even reasonable persons on the right are clearly rethinking their opposition, when the new Gallup poll revealed that 49% of those questioned believe that the bill is a “good thing”.  Surely, they can’t all be socialist Democrats like myself.  (Honestly, how many of those claiming Obama is a socialist can even define the term?)  40% of those polled believe the bill is a “bad thing”.  Legal experts believe there’s less than a one percent chance the Supreme Court will side with the twelve states who filed a lawsuit claiming the bill is unconstitutional.  I’m really not being glib when I repeat it’s all going to be okay.  For some individuals I know, freelancers who don’t get insurance through their work, last week will go down as one of the greatest weeks in their lives.  They have children with preexisting conditions and will now, finally, be able to obtain insurance for them.  A “good thing” indeed.

The legalization of marijuana will be on the ballot in California come November after getting more than enough signatures to send it on through.  Should the measure pass, it will be legal to possess up to an ounce of the stuff and even grow some in your backyard.  Expect major debate to overcome Californians in October, at the same time Santa Ana winds fuel brush fires and send the state up in a cloud of smoke.  Should be exciting.

The world: the Pope is in a lot of hot water over the continuing realization that clergy sexual abuse was prevalent not only in the hedonistic United States, but all over the world.  Like Cardinal Mahoney here in Los Angeles, it turns out Benedict, back when he was Ratty Ratzenberger, knew priests were being shuffled around, instead of prosecuted, after abusing young parishioners.  I know.  I know.  He just wrote a letter to Ireland’s Catholics that was solemn and well written.  Well, I see black and white on this issue and I always have.  You didn’t abuse the child but you know who did and instead of firing them and putting them in jail, you sent them somewhere else?  Where they could possibly do the same thing, and more often than not, did?  “But I wasn’t aware, at the time…”  Not buying it.  You were CC’d, Benedict.  It happened when you were archbishop in Germany.  What the hell is wrong with you and your cronies?! Imagine you have a son.  Just imagine.  Imagine that little boy in the vestibule with Father Frank.  Frank tells your son he wants to touch him.  He pulls down your son’s pants and has sex with him.  Tough to read, huh?  Tough to think about?  But that’s where Benedict needs to go in his mind.  Then it might be more difficult to think on any level that shuffling clergy around was okay.  Step up, Pope Benedict, and take the big one for the Catholic team.  Then turn the bad priests over to authorities and let them be prosecuted and jailed for their crimes.  Damn.

The Google gang is risking big, big bucks by pulling their search engine out of China and telling their customers to head over to their Google services in Hong Kong to get uncensored access to their searches.  The Chinese government just isn’t comfortable with its citizens looking for random information like “what do you call a baby kangaroo?” and getting answers like “joey”, so they censor.  Tsk.  Tsk.

Russia and the US have agreed on reducing some of their nuclear arsenal.  Now, instead of 2200 long-range nuclear warheads, they’ll just have between 1500 and 1675.  Phew.  It was keeping me up at night.  Fifteen hundred nuclear bombs are so much more doable.

Sports: the NFL owners decided to make post-season overtime a little more dependent on smart coaching and tough play than a coin toss.  Now, the team that wins the coin toss has to score a touchdown on their first possession in order to win.  If they simply make a field goal, the other team gets a chance to tie with a field goal or go for the win with a touchdown.  After than, it’s sudden death.  I think it’s a good move and we only have nine months to wait and see whether I’m right.

The NCAA continues.  Butler beat Kansas St. this afternoon to advance to the Final Four.  Currently at halftime, Kentucky and West Virginia were pretty much neck and neck.  Tomorrow, Michigan St. plays Tennessee at 11am PST and Duke plays Baylor at 1:30pm PST, both on CBS.

Entertainment:  I was worried for Sandra Bullock five years ago when she married Jesse James, not because of the tattoos but because one of his former wives was a porn star.  That would give me pause before I said, “I do”.  Rat bastard.  Doesn’t he know how much we all love Sandy?

“American Idol” is starting to make me cringe.  Crystal, Siobhan, Big Mike, okay.  The rest of them, even the ones that can sing?  Feh.  Let’s have this season over with already.

Has everyone checked out “Justified” on FX?  Best new show on the air.  Spend Monday nights with “Nurse Jackie” if you have Showtime, and Tuesday nights with Raylan Givens, and you just may feel okay about how relatively uncomplicated your life really is.

Tomorrow, I’m going for a run to smell the orange blossoms.  Join me.