Parent /Teacher/ Entire World Conferences. But It's Private, So It's OK.

Look, all I'm saying is that we need to think a little bit more about the way technology affects our lives. We all know that news travels faster than - you know - EVERYTHING, but I fear that we don't recognize that OUR news is the news that is traveling.

Yesterday I had an issue with a teacher at the high school who chastised my daughter in front of her friends, because she had the audacity to come in after school and turn in a paper that had been due 3 hours earlier.

You know, I get it. Work should be turned in on time. But when my normally thick skinned daughter came back to the car and burst into tears? Really? I had to do something.

I came home, left a voice-mail for the teacher, and had a return phone call within about 5 minutes, at which time he gave me his idea of what had happened, I told him how I felt about it, and though it was a somewhat difficult conversation, I think it was diplomatic - on both our parts- and after about 15 minutes I thought we had come to a consensus about what needed to happen in the future.

(and if you think the fact that I am talking about an English teacher means that I'm going back to fix that last run-on sentence, you don't know me at all)

It was a fine conversation. At the end of it he actually thanked me for calling, and I thanked him for the discussion.

How interesting then, that by the time I got off the phone and talked to my daughter about the phone conversation, (what, maybe 10 minutes?) By the time that happened, she flipped on her facebook page to find several messages about the incident, and events that were going on in the classroom DURING our phone call.

Apparently, he had listened to my voice-mail on speakerphone. With students still working in the room.  And then, he proceeded to call me back immediately. Not on speakerphone, but his entire side of the discussion took place in front of her peers.

*AGAIN*

They, in turn, then started posting facebook messages to ask her if she was ok? and was she really crying? and let her know that -- boy he seemed angry while he was talking, and apparently he wasn't as satisfied as I was about the way the conversation had ended.

Then other kids started chiming in about things that had happened during the day, and apparently Mr. English (not his real name- in case you were wondering about the odds of that happening!) had a pretty bad day yesterday all the way around.

It doesn't excuse any of the things that happened, but it does give me a reason to cut him some slack.  For now.  Depending on how today goes. 

My point, though, is ---
I kinda think that from here on out, I am going to assume that very little I say is private, or will be kept that way.  Between texting, twitter,  facebook, email, blogging, youtube, speaker phones, and whatever the newest, latest thing on the horizon is - I think you can pretty much guarantee that what you say is available to the world.  And will be around for a long long time.

Dangit.  Because this probably means I'm going to have to learn to think before I talk.

Hello From Under The Bus!

So last night, as previously mentioned, we took the youth ice skating. Yes it was bitterly cold, and no I did not really take smoothies. I wasn't actually in charge of refreshments. It was a young men's activity - and they had invited the young women along because, well, everything's more fun with the young women, right?(I mean, if you're a young man?)

But I was in charge of driving my own vehicle, and I am (with lots of help) in charge of all the girls. Which is why I have a policy that everyone rides home in the same car that brought them. Every driver is responsible to check his or her car for the correct riders, and then you can safely assume that everyone got home, right? RIGHT?

It's a simple system, but apparently you have to have everyone on board for it to work.

I guess one driver didn't really understand the system, prompting a discussion back at the church 30 minutes later of "Hey, where's Genna?"

Which was immediately followed by me making a phone call to Genna's mom to see if Genna had made it home, which she had not. Apparently though, she HAD called her mom to tell her that I (me) had left her there after she told me she was going to the bathroom. And Genna's mom was anxious to tell me how she felt about her being left behind. And let's just say she wasn't happy. (and I guess I don't blame her...)

As I listened to the frustration in her mom's voice, part of me wanted to say Hey!

• I wasn't in charge,
• I wasn't the driver who left her,
• She never told me she was going to the bathroom,
  

and you know what else?

• 37 other kids made it back to the right car at the right time. It's not like she didn't get the same directions as everyone else.

But I decided that the mature thing to do was to just let her get it all out and to apologize profusely.

I used to think that maturity was sort of an outlook on life based on experience and compassion that you can bring to a situation.

The older I get, though, I realize that maturity mostly means that I'm just too tired to get all into it, and I don't want to keep talking about it.


Just throw me under the bus. I'm getting used to it down here.

You Know, The Important Stuff...

Game Time

I have to come up with a game to play at a Senior/Parent graduation dinner for my ward.
I think it would be really fun to do a Generation Gap game. You know, where you ask the kids questions that their parents would know the answers to, and then vice-versa.

So now I need questions!

You know how every now and then, you come across some bit of info stuck in your head, that you kinda find hip and cool, and you try to show it off a little? Here's your chance, people. Throw out your question that most teens would know the answer, but most parents wouldn't.

I don't want to put my whole list out (because some of my YW might read my blog from time to time) but here are a few to see if you can answer.

Questions to ask the parents:

• How do you activate Starpower?
• Translate GTG BRB from textspeak.
• On the TV show Kim Possible what kind of creature is Rufas?

Questions to ask the teens:

• What commercial used to ask “where’s the beef?”
• What’s the name of Barbie’s best know little sister?
• Name the 3 stooges.

Go ahead - see which list is easier for you. And then throw me some questions for either list, yo!

It's My Party and I"ll Cry if I Want To

Welcome to my life.
This week was Lizzie's birthday. In celebration, we wanted to go out to dinner.
"Ok" she cautiously agreed. "As long as you don't tell the waiter it's my birthday."
"Sure," The Brain agrees, " I won't tell the waiter it's your birthday."
But Lizzie, being the smart little cookie she is (and having lived with her dad for a loooong time), didn't let it end there.
"Or the waitress, any of the serving staff, or any hostess or employee or customer in the restaurant."

He finally broke down and agreed to all her terms and we were on our way.

As we drove to the appointed place, she detailed how she had lived the day in fear of anyone mentioning her birthday. I mean, the mortification of having a whole class LOOKING at her and possibly even singing to her was more than she could bear. She was so happy to have escaped any embarrassment.

Mimi mentioned that she had heard the restaurant had a brand new birthday song they were making the servers sing, and she would kind of like to hear it.

You see where this is going, right? We couldn't resist the practical jokeness of telling the server that it was MIMI's birthday. We did it in a note, and The Brain was very very sure to point at Mimi. I saw him. He pointed at the blonde.

As we finished our food, the server came out with a little dessert and the accompanying parade of servers following behind.

We snickered.

Then to my utter HORROR, she walked around the table and set the dessert in front of LIZZIE, and started the loudest and longest birthday song I have ever heard. All 4 of us went sheer white. Lizzie and Mimi because they could not BELIEVE that we had broken our promises. The Brain and I because WE HADN'T!!

Lizzie bravely smiled and said thanks, then once Satan's Choir turned and left, the tears slid down her cheeks, as The Brain and I, both talking at the same time, tried to convince her that we hadn't done it! It was supposed to have been a joke on Mimi!

We tried to apologize. We tried to change the subject. Still the tears slid slowly down her cheeks.

Just send the "Britn*y Spears Mother of the Year" award to:

Horrible Mother JustRandi
Colorado, USA

It'll get to me, no problem. They know me here.

Mean Girls

We’ve had a little rash of mean-girl incidents around here. Several young women I know are facing mean girl situations -more or less on a continuing basis, so I’ve been trying to figure out how to help them.

Telling them why these girls are mean doesn’t fix the situation. It’s obvious that mean girls choose their actions as a direct result of their self-esteem issues. But even giving their victims this information doesn’t help the immediate problem.

I clearly remember spending most of my middle school and early high school years doing everything possible to just fly under the MG radar. I lived with the uncomfortable knowledge that if I stood out enough to be noticed, I would be completely picked apart. I felt like a mouse in a maze being watched by cats, waiting to pounce if I took a wrong turn.

I even knew WHY some of them acted the way they did. It was clear even to my 14 year old self that they were bitter and looking for attention. They were trying to make themselves look bigger by squashing someone else.

I don’t think we can really change the mean-girls. Which is sad, but have you ever known one who really wanted to be different? They like the power associated with it, even though it means they are generally without true friends.

So, back to looking for ways to help my young friends avoid being pounced on. I think it keys on two things:

First, recognizing the mean girls; the ones who act like they’re your best friends. They use phrases like:

“I was just trying to help you.”

“I’m so sorry this hurt you.”

“Someone else said this about you, but I told them to stop.”

Seriously, is there ANYTHING productive or positive in “letting you know” other than to just be hurtful and to feel like they somehow have the upper hand? Most of the time, help, pity, or righteous indignation would not be necessary if the mean girl hadn’t opened her big mouth in the first place. The only motive for this conversation is to make someone feel bad.

Second, the best defense is a good offense.

When I lived in the mountains there were many areas that had mountain lion sightings. The schools took to training the children about what to do in case they came into contact with one of these cats, which was a real possibility, considering that the school bus stops could sometimes be half a mile or so from the child’s home.

The things they taught were; 1) If you are in a group, you will probably not be bothered. Even so, you should 2) never, ever approach a mountain lion. If one approaches you, 3) do all you can to appear larger. 4) Do not turn and run, and if you’re attacked, fight back.

Mountain Lions/ Mean Girls... Hey, same safety rules!

1) Find real friends and stick with them.

2) It’s better to be alone, than to hang out with the mountain lions.

3) If you’re approached, show self confidence, smile, and be the bigger person. Refuse to engage in gossip or pretty much any actual conversation, other than just pleasantries.

4) If you’re attacked, don’t turn and run. It will make you a bigger target next time. The worst case scenario for a mean girl is to be called out. So be blunt.

If she says something snotty about you like; “Hey, lots of people are saying that you shouldn’t be the tennis team captain, because you really aren’t that good a player, but I told them to stop talking like that.”

You say – “Hey, are you trying to help me or hurt me?” Then wait for the answer. Ask “How would telling me that help?”

If a MG makes a gossipy comment, about someone else, say something like “I wonder how we could help her.” Or “I bet she could use a friend.”

It won’t make her nicer, but it will make her avoid you like the plague. And that’s really all you want anyway. Right?

Other suggestions?

Killer Sewing Machine -the big finish

For those who wanted to know....
Mimi was in Home Ec class - which I think is officially called Consumer and Family Studies but since they seem to change the name of it every year I couldn't be sure -

Anyway- she was trying to sew exactly on the correct line, and leaned in really really close so she could see the needle go in, you know - REALLY close - and then she stepped on the gas.
You know that little threadholder that bobs up and down on the front of the machine?

Yep. Right in the forehead. She had a pretty good sized goose-egg for about 3 days.
(Have fun explaining that at the lunch table!)

Killer Sewing Machine

I totally wish this post was going to be as funny as the "preview" earlier this week suggests. I even hoped it was going to be as funny as the title. It's not. But since I got a lot of email from people wondering WHY I was striking my daughter in the head with a sewing machine (!?!?!) I thought I'd rather tell you than wait for CPS to show up on my doorstep. Or the Bernina police. Or whoever.

I'm just trying to picture what YOU all are picturing.

Maybe me pulling stuff out of my purse in a hurry? You know, looking for my phone...

Here, hold my keys. Hold my wallet. Hold this sewing machine. Take IT! TAKE IT! OH, sorry!

Or maybe she's walking home from school, and some careless driver tosses a sewing machine out the window because, you know, it won't zig zag anymore. And I really see how that could happen, cause the zig zag - - - it's everything.

And take this polyester thread, too!

Seriously!

How about this - you tell me how you think she got hit in the head with a sewing machine. If you leave a guess, I'll email you back and tell you how it really happened.
If you don't guess, you'll have to wait till Monday's post!

What We Didn't

As you might have heard, today, Sept 24th, has been designated family day. I don't know about you, but we've been bombarded with radio commercials, print ads, and even posters in the grocery stores encouraging us to eat dinner as a family. When did we - as a country- reach this sorry state?

For some families it's asking too much to even turn off the tv during dinnertime, so TVLand network got in on the hype and went show-less for a 2 hour period this evening. Seriously, people.

Since we regularly eat together as a family, this wasn't a monumental event for us, but I will let you in on the conversation of tonight - being in the spirit of the "holiday" and all...

Me: SO...everyone think of 2 interesting things that happened to you today.

pause here while people begin thinking of fascinating conversation starters involving the day's events.

Mimi: Well, I didn't get hit in the head with a sewing machine.

Me: Oooo-kay.

pause here to mentally award Mimi the Conversationalist of the Year award because - well, dang, girl!

Me: You want to expound on that?

Mimi: No. Just sayin' that it's different than what happened on Friday, that's all.

Me: ooooo-kay.

Lizzie: Hey, that doesn't count for one of her things, right? Because if that counts for her, then I want to say that I didn't get attacked by a band of mutant spiders.

Me: Well, see, the thing that makes Mimi's interesting and makes it different is that last Friday, you didn't actually get attacked by..........nevermind.

Lizzie: I also didn't get to ride on a flying carpet today with a prince. AND nobody took me driving yet.

Me: Well, could you stop listing things you didn't do today, and just tell us something you did?

Lizzie: If I promise not to list more things I didn't, can I drive to get the valve oil I need for band?

And that's where I cut my losses and made the deal. We did eventually get back to what people DID today, but frankly, what we DIDN'T was much more interesting.

Hot Beverages Are Not A Laughing Matter!

I can tell by the fact that more than just my own alarm is going off at 5:30 am, that early morning seminary classes have begun. If I were a better mom than I am, I would probably make an effort to get up each morning and make a hot breakfast for Lizzie as she gets ready to head out the door.

But - - I remember that one time both those times I got up on snowy mornings last year and made hot chocolate for the girls before they left at 5:55 am. I even had the forethought to buy those cool looking Starbucks type cups with the sippy lids and those brown sleeve things that go around the cup.

The first time they ooo'd and thanked me.
The second time, as they were running out the door, I called

Girls, there's hot chocolate on the front table for you! I made one extra chocolaty and one extra creamy, so I just wrote on the lids. EC for extra chocolaty and ...

oh, crap!

(I guess that one should have read "OC")

They laughed so hard they spilled their drinks all the way down the sidewalk on the way to the car.

Anyway...
Thus ended my career as an early morning barista.

And dang! Cause I think I could have gotten really good at that Caramel Apple Cider drink.

Clear the Calendar

So last night, the doorbell rang.

I know.

Considering that our doorbell experiences are rarely worthwhile, no one else in my family will answer the door, but of course everyone wants to know who it is. I can usually count on a small entourage of family members hiding behind me just outside of the door view. I feel like the Verizon guy with my Network.

Anyway-
I answer the door, and it's a kid from up the street. And when I say kid, I mean like a junior in HS kid. I know him (from substitute teaching), and I like him fine, but since he's not the same age as any of my own kids, he's never actually been at my front door before. Here's how the conversation went:

Hi Davey.

Hi Mrs. JustRandi. Is Lizzie home?

Nope, she's still at practice.

Oh. Ok, well, I'm thinking about having a birthday party, and I came over to see if Lizzie could maybe come. To the party.

Sounds fun! When are you going to have it?

Well, I haven't actually asked my mom yet or anything. But I was thinking maybe this weekend or next weekend. Do you think she's available?

Well, that's probably going to depend a lot on when it is.

Ok, well, could you write down my phone number and ask her to call me and tell me if she can come?

Now I could point out again that IT DEPENDS ON WHEN IT IS. But I'm getting the idea that this is less about the party, and more about the contact.

In the meantime, my Network behind me is just busting up laughing.

He's a cute kid, and just the fact that he's going to ask his mom (and he's willing to admit it) makes me hope he really does have a party, and hope that she really can go.

To Ensure Your Safety, Stay Off the Sidewalks

That's right, Lizzie is now a full on card carrying member of the driving society. Well, when I say card carrying, I mean that after standing in about 500 lines at the DMV, they gave her a slip of paper and told her that she would receive her driver's permit in the mail in 2-3 weeks.

But she does have legal permission to drive. Only with me. Apparently Colorado law has changed even more since Puff got her license. Now, if you are under the age of 16, you can only drive with the person who actually signed your paper. In front of witnesses.

And they don't tell you where you can get a mini-van fitted with one of those extra brake pedals.

We've been driving a couple of times in parking lots. As soon as I'm convinced she's got the difference between the brake and the gas fixed solidly in her brain, we'll graduate to neighborhood streets, then feeder roads, and finally highway driving.

She's SO wishing she'd waited for her dad to take her down to that DMV.

Happy Campers

Today the girls get home from LDS girl's camp. Don't worry, I've done this before, and I've braced myself. Last night I even checked my Last Day of Camp Sanity Kit, and I'm good to go; case of Diet Coke, jar of advil, giant box of laundry detergent, pot roast, good dessert, extra pens. Yep. I'm ready.

For moms who have never experienced this, here's what you can expect:

1) When you pick them up at noon in the church parking lot, your girls will be waking up from the 20 minute nap they finally caught in the car. (This necessary because of their being up until 3am on the last night. They just don't want it to end!)

2) You will load all the bags into the back of your minivan while they run around giving "just one more hug". Again. --And maybe one more round of singing the Sippin' Cider song - just, you know, because. At this point, you will notice the mood swinging from sleepy to downright giddy.

3) By the time you get them in the car the giddiness will be peaking, and you will be regaled with the songs I Love My Mormon Boy and Choose the Sprite all the way home. You'll also hear the most fun stories of the week while on this drive.

4) In the enclosed vehicle, you will be reminded that each girl has only been allowed one shower for the week. No one has to tell you this, you just suddenly remember.

5) As you are unloading the car, you will ask your daughters to please leave their dirty clothes in the laundry room and not take them all the way upstairs. You will think you are doing them a favor by reminding them they don't have to carry the bags upstairs while they're so heavy. They will roll their eyes and ask why you are already making them do work. (Try to ignore this mood swing. It's only a couple of minutes, and then you should go get a Diet Coke. And some Advil.)

6) After they have done the "work" as fast as humanly possible, they will take their duffles upstairs, drop them in their bedrooms (where they will remain - - unpacked - -for several weeks), and drag their campfiresmelling selves to the shower.
They will remain there until the hot water is completely gone.

7) YOU will start the laundry immediately so your entire house isn't permeated with the um, smell. (Might as well start with the whites and use some of the hot water... That should shorten the showers a bit.)

8) Several hours later, you will go up and find them asleep on their beds, hair still wet, and clutching the quilt/pillowcase/ other craft they made.

9) They'll appear downstairs right before dinnertime, refreshed by the nap and shower, and "starving" for "real food" or "good food". Mom to Mom tip: No snacky things will do here. Better have a home cooked meal ready.

10) The mood will have evened out enough that during dinner they'll tell the whole family about their experiences. Starting with how embarrassing the skits were, leading into who couldn't start a fire, and then how great the other girls were. The conversation will be sprinkled with bits and pieces of camp songs, and some disputes over correct lyrics.

11) If you pull out dessert at just the right time, you can ask about the bishop's night, and the testimony meeting. Your girls will then want to stay at the table, and you will get to hear some of the spiritual experiences. You'll be so happy for them, and SO glad you worked it out for them to go.

12) They will then mention that if they could find a pen, they would write this all in their journals, at which point you should hand out the pens and excuse them from clean-up duty.


Oh, Yeah:

13) They will then stay up until midnight (cause they just had that long nap, remember?), arguing about what TV show to watch.


That's when you'll know everything's back to normal.

Driver's Ed(ge)

Lizzie has been studying for her driver's permit.
Last night on our way home from somewhere we were sitting in a turn lane and she said,
"So Mom, I guess you only have to use your turn signal when you are the first car in line to turn, right?"
I looked down. Arrggg.
It's going to be a long 12 months, isn't it?

Note to PreSchool Moms

Do you ever wonder why moms of older kids say the thinks they do to preschool type moms? It used to drive me CRAZY! But I'm starting to understand what they were trying to say.
You can read more at

Mormon Mommy Wars

where I am the guest columnist today.

Feel free to comment over there, over here, or both. (I would LOVE it!)

Terrible Two’s... Again

You know, it never really occurred to me how similar it is to raise toddlers and teens, until I told one of my delightful children that she was acting like a TWO YEAR OLD.

And she was.

Temper Tantrums – check

Asserting Independence –check

Unpredictable Displays of Emotion – check

Ah, yes. I recognized this. The Terrible Two's were back … only now they were on steroids. I even settled on a name for it: Terrible Teens…This Time It's Personal.

And that is when I heard the clang of a bell. And a loud voice said,

"Round TWO! Arrrrrreee you readddyyy to Rummmmbleeee?"

And another bell clang. I swear.

Oh, yes, we were definitely starting into familiar territory. My kids had even returned to covering their ears when I talked. Only now they were using headphones. And by the way, we have a new name for Time-Out. We call it Grounded.

But as I began to sort of brace myself for what is to come, I also remembered the wonderful, magical side of a two-year-old and as I looked closer, I found that I was getting that as well!

Laughter – check. My kids can make me laugh harder now than they did when they were pre-schoolers. And that's saying something! I love seeing our sense of humor tweaked – or should I say twisted- a bit and coming back around. Teens are funny, fun, and quite articulate.

Intelligence- check. Anyone who has tried to argue curfew hours with a 15 year old knows that their young nimble brain cells move faster than an adult's. But the amazing part is how fast they learn. My kids know enough to get around in 5 different languages. They can play – between the 4 of them – 12 different instruments. And they learn faster every day. It's amazing to watch!

Need for Approval –check. No matter how many times they tell you they don't care what you think, they do. And when I can give them some sort of approval, even if it's for something minor, things seem to go a little easier for both of us.

All in all I don't really mind the second time around the Terrible Twos. I've learned that the trick is to make sure I give lots of Time-Outs – to myself!

Oh, the Hardship

Mimi and I were riding in the car today, and out of nowhere she asked

Do you think Gone With The Wind ever played in movie theaters?

I smiled and said Yes.
Then she asked

What about Fiddler on the Roof?

Yes, that one too.
At which point I explained that most movies made anytime before she was born, were pretty much made for the theaters. None of this straight-to-video thing that they sometimes do now. And when I was growing up, there were no VCRs, DVDs, or DVRs.

So basically, anytime you wanted to see a movie, you had to go to a theater?
(Pause for me to nod.)

That sucks!

I haven't told her yet about growing up without a remote control, nor about having only 5 channels to choose from - I'm waiting for a time when I can really milk it.