Tag: Humor

The Myth of being Balanced

~ Lenore Diane ~ Leave a comment

I confess, as I become stressed while embarking on the journey of putting my oldest in school and prepping for the financial sacrifices that are ahead of us, I just ate an entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food. Seriously. In one sitting. Yes, I just finished eating an entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. Some folks exercise when they are stressed. Me? I make quick runs to the grocery store, sing Richard Marx songs and eat ice cream (among other items of the junk food family). Oh, and I cut my hair. I am so glad I am normal. Or – wait. Is it abnormal? Whatever.

Entering this new phase of the school years is yet another balancing act of life. Of course, In my opinion, balancing is an ‘act’. It is a literal act that plays out on one’s stage of life, complete with lights and cameras. Aside from balancing a ball on your nose or finding balance while walking a tightrope, ‘balance’, as it is referred to by multi-tasking Moms and Dads, does not exist. And, trying to find the mythical ‘balance’ only makes one feel more out of balance. (Oh. Eating an entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream puts your body out of balance, too. Sorry, I digress. Again.)

My life is pretty sweet now. I find I have time to tackle the tasks that need to be tackled. Ironically (not), I seem to lack the motivation to tackle the tasks. Moreover, when I tackle the tasks with little to no scheduling conflicts, it is easy to buy into the myth of being balanced. However, throw in some real life consisting of last minute changes, impromptu doctor visits, spontaneous car mishaps and a case of the Chicken Pox, and it becomes clear that the thing called ‘balance’ is best used when talking about ball or circus tricks.

Next week, and the four to six weeks that follow, will surely solidify my belief that the term ‘balance’, when applied to multi-tasking Moms and Dads, is a myth. While working, making it to various appointments, keeping the house stocked and cleaned, I will be taking my boys to swimming lessons 5 days a week for the next four to six weeks, depending on how fast they learn. Their classes are 10 minutes long, starting at 11:10 a.m. and 11:20 a.m. Though the time at the pool will be short, relatively speaking, it will create a ripple effect each day, which will make the next several weeks increasingly challenging. A prep for the school year, perhaps?

The days and time I work at my boss’ house will be altered, with me working later than normal. My later hours will require my husband to alter his work schedule, ensuring the kids are picked up in time from daycare. And, because my days and hours will be altered, the time at home to tackle chores will be discombobulated. None of the above discombobulations (new word) are earth shattering, but the discombobulations will leave me feeling out of balance. I mean, hello?! Where on earth (or in a closet) will I find time to consume a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream? When will I have time to eat a bag of Pirate’s Booty chips? And, when will I have time to cut my hair out of stress?! Seriously, folks. Next week, the mythical beast called ‘Balance’ will be blown to smithereens. [With the assumption that ‘Balance’ is a girl, I insert ‘A Girl Like You‘ or ‘Behind the Wall of Sleep‘ by the Smithereens here.]

As I brace for the impact of next week, becoming more involved in this new phase of life, I wonder how my family and I will keep it together. How often are you suppose to change the bed sheets and bathroom towels? Is it OK to recycle your underwear, as the laundry becomes backlogged? How dark can the ring around the toilet bowl get before it is considered gross? And, I have to attempt to find balance? Really? Not going to happen. Searching for ‘balance’ only leads to frustration. In fact, I think finding the Loch Ness monster would prove to be an easier find than balance. I hear Scotland is quite lovely this time of year; however, I won’t try to fit that trip into my schedule. After all, we have money to save, tasks to tackle and junk food to crave.

P.S. I have another pint of Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer: Stephen Colbert’s Americone Dream. Look, it was on sale 2 for $5. I had to buy two. And yes, you’ll find me eating the entire pint in the closet tomorrow, after having just registered my son for Kindergarten.

Off to School

~ Lenore Diane ~ 1 Comment

Joe starts kindergarten in August of this year. My husband and I are joining the hundreds of thousands of parents before us, as we enter the phase of kids in school. And, much to my surprise, I’m concerned about sending Joe to a public school. Never, in my wildest dreams (which consisted of a motorcycle, Sam Elliott and – never mind), did I imagine I would think twice about public schools.

I ain’t never been a real good student. Math be not my best subject, but I think I done speak and write pretty good, on Tuesdays anyway. In all seriousness, school was never my favorite place. And, I rarely performed better than average in school. The one thing I may have excelled at in school was writing notes and falling asleep in class. On super good performance days, I was able to write notes and sleep in class, all at the same time. I was happy to make it to college, and I was happier to make it through college.

I believe my hesitation, rather my straight up aversion, to public school comes, in part, to the current economic situation within this here United States of America. The education system is facing cut after cut after cut. Taking money away from the education system which supports educating the future folks of this country seems counter intuitive to me. Alas, they didn’t ask this ‘C’ average student for my opinion. And, I don’t want to make this a political post.

In addition to the cutbacks taking place within the public school system, I worry about kids these days. Yes, I know, kids are in private schools, too. Moreover, kids in private schools typically (stereotypically) come from affluent families, which may or may not mean more trouble from the kids. Let’s face it, stupidity does not discriminate based on economic status. And, really, I’m taking this to a place I’d rather not take it. Suffice it to say, there are a veritable plethora of reasons why I find myself leaning to private schools – specifically Montessori schools.

As I have researched, I’ve also checked our financial situation. Like many families, enrolling our boys in a private school will lead to our own cutbacks. (Who needs the gov’t for cutbacks?) Rob and I have to sit down and figure out what we are willing to do without, so we are able to do what we feel is best for the boys. Realistically, sacrifices will have to be made. Many sacrifices. I will have to give up – gasp – my ice cream splurges! But wait – there’s more! I’ll have to give up purchasing Yankee Candles! Hmm . . . maybe public schools aren’t so bad.

Once again, all kidding aside, choosing to enroll the boys in a private school will hit our budget hard. But, as I talk with others, I find comfort hearing about how they have made it work. While it is true, we will have to curb our spending, I don’t think it will get to the point where we have to decide whether we pay the electric bill or put food on the table; and, I am thankful for that fact. We’ll see what happens. We register Joe on Thursday for Kindergarten. We want to make sure he is registered, in case he doesn’t get into a private school; his Mom graduated from UGA, and the private school elders may hold that against Joe. (At least she didn’t graduate from University of FL.)

I’m still surprised about how I am playing the role of a parent. I was too busy passing notes and falling asleep in class and having wild dreams about Sam Elliot to think about what I would want for my kids. And, I’ve never been an overachiever. I’m lazy. I like shortcuts. What’s up with me wanting something other than a public school education for my boys? What I know for sure is the fact that I want to invest in our kids’ education, and if the government is pulling funds away from the future generation, then I had better wake up and pay attention. Pardon the drool on my desk. I hate it when that happens.

Mirror Mirror in the Bathroom

~ Lenore Diane ~ Leave a comment

7yrs younger vs. 7yrs older

One Sunday afternoon, Rob and I were going to meet up with a group of people for a late lunch. Rob and I had time to kill, so we decided to have an ‘early’ lunch at a sports bar. When we walked into the sports bar, we were greeted with the familiar scent of wood, dampened with spilled beer. It probably comes as no shock, the bar was empty on this particular Sunday early afternoon. Based on the scent of stale beer and beer soaked wood, I suspect it was filled with countless patrons the prior night.

Many years ago, Rob and I frequented bars. We started reminiscing about the ‘good ol’days’ of our younger years. I told Rob how the smell of bars immediately caused me to flashback to the flirting days, dating days, etc. Fact is, I met Rob in a bar. He played on a poolplayer’s league, and I met him through two other guys on his team. I became a poolplayer groupie, so to speak. Anyway, one of the things I disliked about the bar scene, aside from the smoke, was the bathroom.

In bars, the woman’s restroom is often packed to the gills with gals primping and chatting. Admittedly, I was one of those primping and chatting gals, back in the day. And, I thought it was funny how the ‘older’ women would try to come across as much younger. Though this may sound harsh, I felt sorry for the older women, thinking to myself “Please. You are way too old to be bar hopping.”

Rob and I continued chatting and reminiscing, really enjoying our walk down memory lane. It came time for us to leave, and I decided to use to the bathroom before we left. As I walked into the bathroom, I was once again greeted with another familiar scent of the bar scene: wet toilet paper. In addition, I noticed this bathroom had the typical wet floors and dented stall doors. When I was done going to the bathroom, I went to the sink to wash my hands. [Proper hygiene is essential, don’t you know.] As I washed my hands, I glanced in the mirror and gasped out loud, literally.

“Oh my!” I laughed to myself. “Who is that old lady hanging out in the bar bathroom?” The reflection I saw in the mirror was similar to the older women I saw in my younger years. Truly, I was startled, humbled and humored. I had become the older women. Where did the time go? Inside, I felt I still looked 25 yrs old. No  matter. On this particular day, unlike my younger bar hopping days, I actually left the bar with the cutest guy in the place. And, don’t go pointing out that he may have been the only one in the place. Rob left with me; that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. Oh, and please, save me a spot at the bathroom mirror, because this older gal needs way more primp time. Thanks.