Jen on the Edge

I am of the opinion that adults need to keep the promises they make to children. If children can’t count on the adults around them to do what they said they would do, who can they count on?

For example, if a young adult were to volunteer to coach a team of third grade soccer players, that means it would be his responsibility to attend all scheduled practices and all scheduled games, unless prevented by major illness or a veryveryvery important event, such as his own funeral. If this coach could not attend a practice, then it would be his responsibility to call the parents and tell them practice is canceled or ask another parent to run the practice.

Volunteering to coach a team actually involves taking on several responsibilities and keeping the promises implicit with the job:

• It means communicating with the parents regularly. ALL parents, not just a few. So if the coach is told several times that one family does not have email, it would be his responsibility to call those parents and not just hope someone passes the message along to them.
• It means showing up on time or even a little early for games or practices. It doesn’t mean showing up late or not at all.
• It means teaching the children about soccer. Helping them improve their game. Paying attention during the game and doing some coaching from the sidelines. Teaching the girls the rules. Not standing there and doing nothing during games.
• It means giving it your all, even if you lose every single game. Children don’t turn into David Beckham or Mia Hamm on their own. They need guidance.
• It means attending all games, especially the last one.

True, in this scenario, this person does not have a daughter on the team and is simply a young man who loves soccer and thought it would be fun to volunteer, but he would still have the same responsibility to the team as a parent would.

Parents of young soccer players have some responsibilities too. They need to get their children to the practices and games at the specified times. They need to take turns bringing snacks. They need to communicate with the coach regularly. And, it would be nice if they got the coach a thoughtful gift at the end of the season. Some examples would be a gift card to Starbucks if it was noticed that the coach has a coffee addiction or even a framed photo of the team with the girls’ signatures around the edges.

However, if the coach doesn’t follow through on his responsibilities, what then? What if the parents are frustrated that the coach didn’t seem to give a crap. That he didn’t do anything. That he didn’t take his responsibilities seriously and didn’t keep his promises to the children.

Then those parents would likely be irritated or even fully pissed off. It is likely that one particularly wise parent just might have predicted that the coach would skip the last game. It is also possible that the wise parent might have suggested that the parents skip buying the coach a thoughtful gif and that the other parents would agree.

But that seems unduly pessimistic. No adult would be that irresponsible as to not bother to attend the last game of the season, not tell the parents, and not say goodbye to his players. Right?

Just 24 hours after the soccer practice, the wise parent would then proven to be some kind of prophet, as it was discovered that the coach won’t be attending the last game. No email was sent out. The wise parent heard about it through word of mouth. At least the coach asked some other parents to coach. At least there was some advance notice of his lameness.

But then again, what kind of adult would make promises to little girls and then break them?

Updated to add: Since I wrote this, today’s games have been postponed because the fields are too swampy to play. I’ve emailed the coach (and copied all parents), politely asking if he’ll please let us know the details about the rescheduled game and also if we’re having practice this coming week (and if he’ll be there). We’ll see if he does the right thing.

Oh my holy hell.  Go read this.

I still feel the same way I did the last time.

Pete just looked at me and said, “These are people who don’t worry about their carbon footprint.”

Dear Family,

The house doesn’t clean itself. You are now responsible for your own possessions. If I see them in a place where they don’t belong, said possessions will become mine. If they are mine, they will end up in the trash.

Love, Jen

~ ~ ~

Dear Elegant,

When I am ordering you around giving you instructions, don’t interrupt me by saying, “I KNOW, I KNOW, I KNOW” loudly and repeatedly. You aren’t even listening, so how can you possibly know what I’m trying to tell you? Listen to me and then do as I tell you, because I am the Supreme Empress of Jenworld, which is not a democracy. Think benevolent dictatorship and you’ll have a better idea of the role of government here. Actually, the “benevolent” part is iffy right now. Now, go pick up your books and take them upstairs. Put them on the bookshelf; do NOT throw them on the floor. If I see them on the floor, they will be come MINE. I won’t read them either. Just a reminder: Paper is recyclable and books are made of paper.

Love, Jen

~ ~ ~

Dear Graceful,

Your room is a pig sty. You might wish to take care of it before I do. If I go in there, you’ll have nothing left when I’m done. Imagine large black trash bags bulging with your former possessions and you’ll get an accurate image of what I’m talking about. Even the Webkinz will go. Especially the Webkinz.

Love, Jen

~ ~ ~

Dear Graceful and Elegant,

Hiding recycling and other bits of trash in your bedrooms is not a good idea. Graceful, I can smell the used dryer sheets in your closet. Elegant, I know about the empty egg cartons under your bed. Put the trash in the trash can and the recycling in the recycling bin. The trash and recycling trucks come on Wednesday morning, so I suggest you take care of this before Tuesday afternoon. If you don’t, I will — and your rooms will echo in their emptiness when I’m done.

Love, Jen

~ ~ ~

Dear Pete,

Please go counsel your children on their pack rat tendencies. They clearly get this from you, so go deal with it. Remind them that the trash truck comes on Wednesdays.

Love, Jen

~ ~ ~

Dear Elegant,

There is a trash can in your room. That’s where your used tissues go. I know your allergies are bothering you and you feel like crap, but that doesn’t give you a pass on basic hygiene.

Love, Jen

~ ~ ~

Dear Graceful,

If you expect to have a clean soccer uniform on Saturday, your dirty uniform needs to make it into the laundry basket several days in advance.

Also, your muddy cleats? Don’t belong on your cream colored carpet. Clean them and then put them away.

Love, Jen

~ ~ ~

Dear Graceful and Elegant,

You know that big white metal thing next to the kitchen sink? That’s called a dishwasher. It holds dirty dishes so they can be washed. Dirty dishes do not get washed if they’re left on the kitchen table. We’ve been over this many many many many many many many many many many many many many many many many times already and I’m getting tired of reminding you.

Love, Jen

~ ~ ~

Dear Family,

The fancy chocolate on the top shelf of the pantry is NOT for you. That is Jen Chocolate. It will taste terrible to anyone who isn’t named Jen, so don’t even try it. In fact, it will give you a stomach ache and possibly fire hose diarrhea, so leave it alone.

Love, Jen

~ ~ ~

Note to all reading this: Sensing a theme here?

Dear Design Within Reach,

We have to talk, you and I. When I first heard of Design Within Reach (DWR), I was excited. I foolishly assumed that meant your prices were actually affordable. You know, that whole “within reach” part of your official name. Within whose reach? Because I am here to tell you that your furniture, no matter how cool it is, is not within most people’s reach. Who did your market research? Paris Hilton?

Don’t believe me? Let me elaborate:

I like this lamp:

The Artichoke Lamp is cool and fun, without overdoing it. However, I refuse to spend $7,000-$13,000 for a lamp. That’s some serious money and no one I know spends even a tenth that for lighting. Maybe 1% but that’s it. For that kind of money, I expect a lamp to be powered by the energy produced from fairy wings.

Instead, if I were so inclined to buy such a lamp — and I am, however, my husband most definitely is not — I would buy this one instead:

That’s the Knappa by Ikea and it’s only $24.99. It’s not identical to your lamp; however, I’m willing to sacrifice a little on this one. Actually, I prefer the look of the Ikea lamp over yours.

And check out the Venezia chair that you have listed in your SALE section:

It’s PLASTIC, so I assumed it wouldn’t cost too much money. It’s marked down to $150, so I was clearly a bit off in my thinking.

By contrast, Ikea sells the Urban chair for only $34.99:

Guess which one I would choose if I were in the market for an uncomfortable plastic chair?

It’s not just Ikea who is kicking your ass in the style-for-less department, so are other stores.

You sell this:

Normally this light fixture is $700, but right now you have it marked down to the low low price of $490. Are you people on crack?!? We’re talking about electrical wiring, a light bulb, and some shells. That’s it.

Luckily, World Market has this:

Normally only $19.99, right now it’s on sale for $15.99 AND they have it in other colors, such as pink and blue, which is important if one is at World Market with a seven year old girl and she is certain this lamp will change her life forever. (Alas, the seven year old’s life remains unchanged at this time.)

I’ve been thinking about getting an ottoman for the living room in Jenworld. Something simple, like a black leather cube.

You have this:

I am NOT spending $550 for something I’ll put my feet on.

Instead, I very likely will buy this instead:

That’s from Tar-zhay and it’s only $49.99. I don’t care if it’s faux leather, because frankly I’d rather not feel guilty for killing cows in my quest for cheap chic.

I will admit Design Not-Within Reach that you do carry some amazing items, including all the great mid-century style icons. For example, this:

When I bought this — and I debated this purchase for months — I checked your website for information and a price comparison. And I ultimately did buy My Precious. That said, I most certainly did not spend the $3,000 you were asking. Oh no, my friends, I did not. Instead, I went somewhere else. Another website where I can find pretty much anything you sell, but for much much less.

eBay.

Yep, that’s right. I am not ashamed to admit that I bargain hunt for my style, as do most people. And I am a huge fan of “Buy It Now” auctions.

In conclusion, I can only say that you, Design Not-So-Much-Within Reach, are falsely named. I suggest you change to something more honest, such as Design Within The Reach Of The Upper Class But Not The Rest Of You Little People.

Sayonara. I’m off to hit the sales at Pier 1.

XO,

Jen

Warning: This post will be offensive to dog owners. I suggest you go read another blog instead. I will use strong and offensive language to help illustrate the magnitude of my ire.

Why are dog owners so fucking inconsiderate?

(Hey, I warned you people…)

Why do you think I want your dog to pee in my yard? Do I pee in yours? Do my elderly neighbors who work so hard to add beauty to our neighborhood pee in your yard? Hell no, we’re more considerate than that. Keep your fucking dogs off our property.

And you people who allow your dogs to crap on the sidewalk and then you don’t even clean up afterward? You’re assholes, each and every one of you.

You all have yards, use them as your animal’s bathroom. If you don’t have a yard, then you shouldn’t have a dog anyway. I may not like them, but even I believe that dogs deserve some land of their own.

Why do you think it’s permissible for your animal to sniff my crotch? I don’t care if it’s the dog’s natural instinct. It’s rude, so keep a tight leash on your dog and away from my body. I will not hesitate to push your dog away and tell you exactly what I think about you and your pet.

And I really hate it when you people bring your dogs to the school playground and let them have a doggy play date that involves canines running around and results in canines knocking down children or adults. If the dogs need to run around with their friends, take them somewhere else to run off their energy. A smaller space where there are dozens of children playing is not appropriate. Your children may not be afraid of dogs, but one of mine is absolutely petrified of them and would rather walk in traffic than meet a dog on the sidewalk.

I will grant you that not all dog owners are inconsiderate louts. Thank you for cleaning up after your animal and for understanding those of us who are not pet people.

So people, please, remember that not everyone adores your hairy beast. Remember that not everyone likes animals. And definitely remember to keep your dogs out of my yard.

Ugh. The time change last night was not a good thing. I hate to lose an hour of my precious weekend. If we’re going to lose an hour somewhere, why can’t it be during the week, like on a Monday afternoon?

Blackbird has sent me an utterly horrifying interesting article that was in last week’s New York Times. Apparently, the rage among little girls in the 6-9 age range is spa birthday parties. Yep, that’s right. Little girls can celebrate their birthdays with their friends by getting makeovers. Makeovers. For children.

It goes beyond mani’s and pedi’s; these impressionable pre-women are made up with light makeup and body art (of the glitter variety). They can even custom-blend their own lip glosses.

Some spas across the country also offer limo service to and from the spa. A couple even offer their juvenile clients virgin Cosmos and other mocktails. That’s good, because I think we should definitely encourage underage drinking along with little girls looking like tarted-out teens and teens looking like whores.

I should have known a new trend was afoot when the American Girl megacorp launched a personal care products line a few years ago. Not only could I conceivably purchase soaps, shampoos, and lotions for Graceful and Elegant, I could also get lip gloss and perfume. As if.

Marketing analysts call this trend “kids getting older younger” (KGOY) . I can promise you that none of this shit will occur in Jenworld any time soon. No lip gloss — any that comes home in birthday party favor bags goes straight to the trash. No perfume. No body glitter. I do occasionally allow nail polish on the girls’ toes (but not fingers) and then only in pastels like pink or lavender. The Harlot Red is reserved for my personal toes only.

I’m not sure when my girls will be allowed to experiment with makeup. My mother permitted mascara in 7th grade and I was then allowed to gradually add products throughout junior high and high school.

I’m not naive enough to think that my girls aren’t going to want to wear makeup. I mean, jeezy peezy, I live with Elegant, who is clearly a diva in training. But there’s no reason to push them toward adulthood too quickly. They’ll be there soon enough.

Dear Buffy,

I know that you’re a busy woman, as shown by the way you multi-tasked on Preston Avenue — driving your new Mercedes AND talking on the phone at the same time.

I know that your phone call was very important — maybe you were calling the housekeeper of your winter home in Eleuthera to discuss plans for your December 20th arrival. Or perhaps you were calling your sorority sister Muffy to discuss your spa getaway. Or maybe you were scheduling your next face lift.

You are a busy, important woman. I get that. I understand.

So when I tooted my horn at you, it was just a gentle reminder that green lights mean GO. Green lights do not mean to continue sitting there in your shiny fancy car, chatting on the phone, and blocking traffic. I wasn’t trying to ruin your life or make your day difficult, I was simply trying to get traffic moving so that the fifteen cars behind me had a chance to get through the light too. There was no need to be huffy or gesture your well-manicured, but covered in age spots, hands at me.

Believe me, if I had wanted to truly piss you off, I would have done so. Imagine the horn of my minivan beeping nonstop for some time. Imagine me waving my very own hands at you and providing helpful hand gestures. Imagine me rolling down my windows and hollering some friendly advice to you.

And if you are going to talk on the phone whilst driving, I suggest you place a call to your colorist. I could see your roots from 25 feet away.

Merry Christmas to you, Biff, and your other hoity toity friends.

XO, Jen

This is just messed up. If anyone ever tried that with one of my girls, his balls would be soon found hanging from the nearest telephone wire.

T-G-I-fucking-F!

I don’t know if you’ve noticed it or not, but I’ve been a bit quiet this week. Well okay, quieter than is normal for me. The fact is, we’ve had a very frustrating week here in Jenworld. In fact, I’m almost speechless with frustration.

(Except for when I called Melissa on Wednesday, got her husband on the phone instead, and VENTED to Rich. Poor bastard. He probably curled up in the fetal position after we ended the call. I wasn’t so speechless then.)

What’s bringing gloom into our sunny world?

In a word, homework.

Yes, people, third grade homework is raining on my parade. As in, there’s too fucking much of it. Like, 1-2 hours each night. As in, two emails to the teacher this week alone. I think we’ve reached a compromise, but I’m not completely satisfied.

Studies — many of them, in fact — have shown that homework is of no benefit to elementary school students. It’s a waste of their time, especially when kids should instead be using their down time to ride their bikes, climb the monkey bars, and just be kids.

On a related subject, let me lay out some Jenworld trivia that I don’t believe I’ve ever mentioned before:

• I have a master’s degree in EDUCATION
• My mother is a TEACHER
• My sister and her husband are TEACHERS
• My brother is on sabbatical from TEACHING while he’s in grad school and his wife is a TEACHER
• My other brother TAUGHT last year, is now in a Ph.D. program, and could very well TEACH again when he’s done.

Anyone noticing a trend here?

So, if I bitch about homework and how the quantity and quality suck, I do so with the complete confidence that I know of which I speak and that there’s an intelligent team of educators who have my back. Furthermore, other teachers at our school have told me that they think the homework situation in our third grade is ridiculous.

So, the homework thing? It’s getting me down. Such as the three days this week that Graceful had almost no down time at all from the time she got home until she went to bed. Especially on Tuesday night when Graceful was still working at 9 p.m. and wasn’t done. Yesterday, however, was much better. We went nowhere after school and instead relaxed and had a good time. It was so nice.

In spite of my ranting, I’m still very pleased with the teacher Graceful got this year. She’s excellent and Graceful adores her. Our girls go to one of the best elementary schools in town and Graceful is thriving at this school. We have never before encountered this sort of difficulty.

Moving on from my rather lengthy diatribe, it’s also been a busy week at work and included a financial crisis that I believe has been resolved, but it was a tense couple of days there.

And, Pete and I had to have a conference with Elegant’s teacher on Wednesday to discuss our younger daughter’s attention span and lack thereof. It was a positive meeting and we came up with some good strategies, but I’m wondering how long these new ideas will work and how long until we’re back in the classroom at the little table, with our knees up to our chins, brainstorming new ideas.

Which leads to another stress in my life. We are very seriously considering sending Elegant to a Montessori school next year and I’m visiting it next month. Our school is wonderful, but it doesn’t seem to be the right fit for her. Sending El to a private school that is more suited to her personality is great in theory, but paying for it is going to be another matter altogether. We can do it, but it’s going to take most of my net pay and therefore means that we are suddenly dependent on the money I earn. Remember that financial crisis I mentioned earlier? What’s to say it won’t happen again and they won’t be able to pay me?

(And, yes, I realize that I’m fortunate to even have such choices as private vs. public school.)

But it’s Friday and I’m in a better mood. We have nothing but fun things planned for this weekend. No errands. No cleaning. No house projects. Nothing but good times ahead.

Have a good weekend everyone.