Monday, August 21, 2006

Making the band

Oh, I'm a mean mom this week. Ohhhhh, I'm a meanie. This is the week my daughter starts Band Camp, a boot-camp-like two-week ordeal designed to whip freshmen in shape for high-school marching band. And I've got to think that most of the kids showing up each day for this abuse, many of them the second or third sibling or even the second generation in their families doing band duty, are at least semi-excited about marching onto that football field in uniform. Okay, maybe a few of them are getting pushed by their parents to give it a try. My daughter is probably not the only one moaning and groaning and wishing she didn't have to go, probably not the only one whose mom keeps cooing "Just try it. Just do your best." But since she's the only one I"m personally pushing, she's the one I feel guilty over.

You gotta love the way kids think, though. She was complaining about the lap-running and calisthenics she had to do all day, and how it was too much work, and I told her, as I so often do, that if she doesn't have to be in band she has to pick something else to be involved with. "Cross-country," she suggested. Yeah, now there's a less strenuous solution.

Saturday, August 19, 2006

That's okay, I can see the snakes from here

I would never in a million years go to see a movie called "Snakes on a Plane," but I sure am enjoying the internet hype. It's sort of fun to be able to take in all the folderol around a cult film without actually having to see the film. I wonder, if I was younger, if I would actually feel a need to go and be part of the communal experience; I never have had a stomach for scary movies, but I did go to a theater to see "American Werewolf in London" and "Poltergeist" as a twentysomething just because they were cool. Maybe this is one of the nice things about growing older; you feel cool just knowing about what's cool, and so you don't have to actually go out and do it. You kids have fun with the snakes, now!

On a different level of horror, I almost spit out my pizza the other day when my daughter's friend was over for lunch and invited her to come out to his house next weekend and go see a movie -- "World Trade Center." My daughter said she hadn't heard about that and was really interested in it. Now, without making any judgments about the film or the need for teens to learn about and understand this subject matter ... man, you know, this is a girl who is shook up for days after seeing a particularly intense episode of "It's a Miracle," I really don't think she's up for Oliver Stone, even kinder gentler Oliver Stone. I diplomatically informed the kids that really, if my daughter wanted to see "World Trade Center" she should see it with us (ha!), and that seemed to satisfy her friend, who suggested "Zoom," the latest badly reviewed but presumably safe Tim Allen kiddie film, as a substitute. Whew! Guess I should be glad he didn't suggest "Snakes on a Plane."

Monday, August 07, 2006

My brain hurts

It seems clear that this blog is requiring more creativity from me than I have to spare these days -- every week I swear I'll write every day, and then the days go by. But blogging demands nowhere near the imagination my son is insisting I muster up for him on an hourly, if not minute-ly, basis. One fun thing about my guy is that he's really captivated by pretend play now, and that's great ... except guess who he's expecting to generate all that fun pretend?With him home so much now during the summer, our days are a constant stream of "Let's play pirate!" "Let's play baby gorilla!" "Let's play baby bear and Mama bear!" Followed by him waiting patiently for me to bring on the character goodness. The game of "Mama gets some work done while boy amuses his own self" is not high on his hit list.

Really, I'm delighted he wants to spend time with me. I'm happy that he likes the ideas I come up with. It's real flattering. But at the same time, oh goodness, sometimes I really do just run out of them. I can't think of what the other cars may be saying as we drive down the street, or what the dog might be saying, or what the car might be saying to the dog. My brain gets tired, guy. I'm old that way. I can't even come up with enough ideas to keep a decent blog going. But I do have a pretty good idea I can blame that on you.