Mom in the Mirror

Welcome to the club

Our membership cards arrived this weekend, so it's official. We've joined a country club. I never would have expected or believed that I'd become a country club member (I'm not a snob, I promise). But for lots of reasons -- tennis courts, fitness center, pool access, lots of kids activities -- it made sense for us.

Here's the big surprise: The expense of the monthly dues is NOTHING compared to the expense of the clothes and shoes we've bought since deciding to join.

We needed workout clothes, special tennis shoes for the clay courts (one pair for each of us) and other shoes for the fitness center (we couldn't wear the tennis shoes in there because the clay might hurt the machines). And the first time we went to have our tennis skills assessed, it was literally freezing, so we spent way too much money in the Pro Shop on long-sleeved shirts for Colter and me (Gary wisely brought a jacket).

At least, with our membership cards, they sent a coupon for free lunches and two free dinners during our first 30 days of membership. I think I'm gonna like it here!

Too much happiness can be a bad thing

Our family had a great day yesterday. Colter went to Gasparilla with a friend of his while I unpacked and Gary cooked for a party we had last night (our first in our new house). We all had fun at the party -- too much fun. Colter didn't fall asleep until close to midnight.

You can imagine the crash today. The higher the high, the lower the low that follows. We know this, so we made no plans for today. But that didn't make the alternating tantrums and tears any easier. The only thing that helped was matzo ball soup.

Why must summer be followed by the fall?

As long as they get my name right?

Even if I weren't quoted in it (name misspelled) and hadn't provided the reporter with some information and sources he used, this article on parenting blogs in today's New York Times would still be worth reading.

The ones who got away

I was listening to the radio on my way home last night when a sappy Barry Manilow song came on. It was about lost love (surprise, surprise), and as I listened, I realized there isn't a love in my past that got away in the conventional sense. There are no old boyfriends I wonder about or want to see again. But there are lots of female friends I miss terribly.

There are friends from high school I wonder about, friends from college I'd still like to talk to, and friends from graduate school and beyond that I wish I still knew.

I can't quite figure out how this happened -- how I drifted so far from these female friends. I know marriage, a child, and geography had something to do with it. But other women manage to stay close despite these obstacles.

I tell myself that not all friendships were meant to last forever. But still...

Pretend I just enrolled in "Friendship 101" and tell me, how do you make and keep good friends?

From the files of Dr. Freud

This weekend, Gary was rubbing my shoulders and Colter started scratching my neck at the same time. I said, "That feels good," and when Colter realized it was Gary's massaging that felt so good, he left the room and pouted. I went into his room and he said, "You don't need me. You have daddy."

After I spent several minutes explaining that I could love them BOTH, but differently, I finally told Colter that he could come back into our bedroom whenever he was ready. He followed immediately.

The next morning, we were all cuddling (with Colter in the middle) when Gary said, "I'm jealous." That was followed by several minutes of Gary explaining why he felt left out of the loving.

Are other families this Oedipal?

Ready for some new wedding vows?

My husband and I will be married 10 years this fall, and I think we're ready for some new vows.

We've pretty much mastered for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others. Instead of repeating those vows and recommitting to what we've already accomplished, I want us to make some new promises for this stage of our relationship.

Here are a few:

• I will trim my nose hair as often as necessary.
• I will not pick my nose or scratch my butt in public.
• I won't bite my nails if you don't pick your toes.
• I won't mention your belly if you don't mention my gray hair.
• I will share the blanket.

It's true -- after more than a decade together, some of our physical habits have become annoying. It's hard for me to remember, but there was a time when I thought my husband's snoring was cute. It actually lulled me to sleep, rather than keeping me awake.

It isn't just physical habits that can grate on each other's nerves now. Our verbal habits can also be frustrating. For example, my husband is a very funny man. Except when he's not.

So, some additional vows:

• I will only tell jokes I know are funny.
• If you stop talking to me while I'm reading, I'll stop talking to you while you're watching "Iron Chef."
• I promise to interrupt you while you're speaking only in case of an actual emergency (which includes wanting to know where you've put the chocolate).
• I won't sing a song unless I know all the words.
• I'll try to limit conversations that involve yelling from room to room, except when I'm in the bathroom and need more toilet paper, or when I'm in the bedroom and wonder what's for dinner, or when I'm in the TV room and you're playing computer games.

As we enter our second decade of marriage, we'll both be in our 40s, instead of our 30s. Some of our charming idiosyncrasies now look more like character flaws. We've both changed, but not necessarily in the ways either of us might have imagined or hoped.

At the same time, there are agreements we've tacitly made, without explicitly acknowledging them. They include:

• I will say "I was wrong, you were right."
• I will remind you regularly why you married me and why I married you.
• I will keep it together when you're falling apart and only fall apart when you're able to hold things together.

As we grow older, we hope to mature faster than we age. We learn to love, honor and cherish ourselves. And we try to have and hold onto money better.

As our marriages age, it becomes harder than ever to forsake all other distractions (kids, work, the Internet) and pay attention to our partners, who we expect to see beside us on the other side of the bed, the other side of the table, the other side of our lives. They are our mirrors, but they are not us.

So, in this next phase of our lives, I will look beyond the flaws and the imperfections and the inadequacies we all feel and celebrate the life my husband and I have created and the love we enjoy.

'Til death do us part.

What new vows would you make?

This LifeFiles column originally appeared on about 70 TV station websites managed by Internet Broadcasting Systems.

Am I my mother?

Are you yours?

See post at Tampa Bay DotMoms.

Time to set the alarm

For many years, I was an early riser. Throughout high school and college, my family and friends couldn't believe what a morning person I was. I'd wake up on my own around 6 a.m. and get moving immediately. It was rare for me to sleep late.

Having a young child only intensified this instinct. In recent years, my internal alarm started going off at 3:30 a.m. or 4. But when my husband and son let me sleep late, I'd sleep *really* late.

These days, my body seems to have normalized. Colter is 8 years old now and he wakes up around 6:30 or 7 a.m. on his own. And so do I.

I'm finding that just doesn't give me enough of a head start on the day, so I've decided to rely less on my internal clock and more on the electronic version. I'm going to start setting my alarm.

What time do you wake up? How full is your day before the rest of your family awakens?

Getting back on the horse

Without planning it, I've become lazy about blogging. I went from writing daily to skipping a day now and then, to skipping several days at a time.

We started playing tennis in the mornings, I slept a little later, I paid bills.

So here I am.

Rusty.

With only half-completed thoughts:

• Why does my son sit so close to the TV?
• Why do I feel like I'm squeezing my life from the bottom of a tube of toothpaste?
• Why can't I be indifferent, like my cat?

Today, all I have are questions, and a desire to get back to it.

If I wrote the dictionary

I love the English language. I love the dictionary. I love words. But there are some words I could do without.

If it were up to me, the dictionary would not include the word "should." There are too many shoulds in the world, too many choices we make because we feel obligated: "I should call my Uncle Q and apologize for yelling at him, even though I'm really, really angry that he borrowed my car then left it by the side of the road with the keys inside."

I asked my husband and son what words they would eliminate from our lives. My son Colter, who is 8, said he would get rid of the word "no."

He has no idea what a great idea that is.

What if people could only say "yes," "maybe," or "how"?

Wouldn't business meetings be different? Wouldn't conversations about curfew require more creativity? Wouldn't life just be better?

I would be so happy to live the rest of my life without ever hearing the word "no." It would eliminate, "No, we just sold the last one." And, "I wish we could, but my boss says no."

Maybe if there were fewer "no"s, there'd be more "I don't know"s.

If it were up to my husband, Gary, the dictionary would not include the word "due." Nevermore would the words "balance due" appear on a bill. He wouldn't have to worry about "due dates" or even "membership dues." For him, the freedom from deadlines and debt would be liberating beyond words.

After I finish eliminating words, I think I'd add some to the dictionary.

I'd like to add a word for that time of morning when the sky starts turning purple and you know dawn is on the horizon, but it's not quite there yet.

I'd like to add a word for the way I feel when I look at my sleeping son, curled up into a peaceful ball of boy, except for his leg thrown over my snoring husband so nocturnal escape is impossible.

And I'd like to insert a word for the dread I face on a rainy Saturday morning when I've just finished the last page of a fantastic novel and have nothing new to read.

Once I've added all the words I'd like, maybe I'd rearrange words in the dictionary.

Who needs alphabetical order? Making "A" the first word in the dictionary seems so generic and predictable. And why put the "Agricultural Adjustment Administration" hundreds of pages before the word "porcine" appears? Shouldn't they be closer together?

Why not reorganize so that the most important words come first? Love, kindness, consideration, respect. Speech, silence. Pen, pencil, book, school.

Then, the least important words could come last. The final word in the dictionary would no longer be zymurgy. In my dictionary, it would be hate.

Samuel Johnson said, "Dictionaries are like watches, the worst is better than none and the best cannot be expected to go quite true."

Perhaps then people might actually READ the dictionary and, along the way, learn to spell.

What words would you add to or remove from the dictionary?

This LifeFiles column originally appeared on about 70 TV station websites managed by Internet Broadcasting Systems.