I am a bit of a safety freak. I see danger everywhere: escalators, parking lots, balloons, Home Depot shelving, pedicure establishments. Tis' a blessing and a curse. If I was attorney, it would definitely be a blessing. But I am not an attorney. I am a mom. It's definitely a personal thing, one's safety threshold. And, while I am not naming any names, it can be extremely frustrating (on both ends) to parent near or with someone with vastly different safety sensibilities than you have.

Personally, and I'm sure you'll agree, one should always defer to the person with the higher safety standards. If I'M wrong, you'll have a really safe kid. If "HE" is wrong (again, not naming any names) then you'll have a kid with a softball down their throat and teeth in their sinuses.

This brings me to the above mask I am proud to have my daughter wear while pitching. Thankfully, Rocky's league has just made this mask mandatory for pitchers. Ha! Cause you know that "he" and "she" would gfaw at me and call me "wimp" were it not for the blessing of "the league".

So what's you're achilles heel? What scares the hell out of you?

Mr. Do Do

I've always admired people who can capture huge ideas and thoughts into brief phrases or sentences. Maybe that's because I frequently say too little using too many words.

Joe, at two, has to be the king of brevity. All day long he proclaims, insists, demands "Do! Do!" because he wants to do it all himself. "Do!" may mean, "Get your slimy white hand out of that dishwasher and allow me to gather all the cutlery and slap it in the drawer by MYSELF, you selfish giant!" Or, "So what if I am putting both of my socks on the same foot? It's my foot, isn't it? You control freak!" Or, "Hand over that sponge, sister. I am perfectly capable of scraping the soggy Cheerio shrapnel off of my tray. What do you think I am? A baby?!"

Forgive me, your majesty, for I know not what I "do".

2012: Who's with me?

I've definitely been a little lost in my own world these last few months, so imagine my surprise when my good friend, La, told me about The End of Days some are preparing for. No need to panic, the world isn't set to implode until December 21, 2012. Google it if you don't believe me.

This really upsets me for two reasons:

1. Apparently millions have been preparing for this event for years, and I didn't even know about it. There are blogs, lectures, and even kits you can buy, and I have missed it all.

2. I love to freak out, and I feel totally behind the 8 ball. I could be buying gold and hoarding tuna and batteries. Perhaps I'll get started today.

Anyone want to buy my class ring?

If the end of days is around the corner, so be it - especially if it is, as some theorists suggest, due to a polar switcheroo. I've always thought that dying sounded like supremely lonely business, so I embrace the opportunity to bite it just about when everyone else does.

For My Three Faithful Friends

This post is for you, my 3 faithful lurkers! Each day you visit my blog knowing that I have basically abandoned it. But you keep coming back and looking for me. That, my mystery friends, is what I call faith.

I will raise my glass of red to you tonight!

Teach a man to fish?

This question is plaguing me of late. I have never really been the recipient of charity, and I wonder what it would be like to be on the other end of it. On the one hand, it would be so nice to have help. It would mean food or gifts or medical care when I couldn't provide it for myself or my children. But what about the times when the people on the other end couldn't or didn't give to me? Do I just go without food then? Or medical treatment? Is my existence, then, tied to the whims of people I don't know? How unnerving that must be. And scary. But, then again, what if there was no help at all? Isn't some help, whenever it comes, better than no help? Or will I learn to wait for that help instead of try and make it myself? Will I learn helplessness if I am given things instead of earning them? Where is the line?

I am drawn most to charities like Heifer International and Kiva which are more "teach a man to fish" than "give a man a fish" organizations. Still, if I was hungry and my kids were hungry, I'd want someone to give me a fish because you can't fish on an empty stomach.

How do you feel about charities? Which ones do you support and why? What are your feelings about learned helplessness?

Migraining . . . again.

My good friend, Matt, says that every good Jew gets "a condition" if you live long enough. Migraining is my "condition". Does everyone really have a condition?

What's yours? (TMI is welcome here!)

North Face in my face

So, Rocky wants one of these things. You know, these uber-trendy jackets that range from your basic polar fleece sweatshirts, to down jackets for $275.

It's no news to anyone, that you are paying $100 outright for the little, square North Face tag. No news to anyone, except Rocky. She keeps spouting the "They're so comfortable!" mantra at me, when we in "the know" know that the ones from Land's End are just as comfortable, particularly where the wallet is concerned. The "comfort" comes from looking just like all the other cool kids at the mall or in the hall at school.

And she's angling hard for UGG boots, too. But I digress . . .

What would my mom have said? "Absolutely not!" Have I mentioned lately that Rocky is 9?

Here's what I want:
I want a kid who knows the value of a dollar (damn, I sound like an old man).
I want a kid who has enough self esteem to not care what other kids are wearing.
I want a kid who feels cool in her own skin and knows that any friend who is interested in the name brand of your jacket isn't a friend worth having.

She intends to pay for it on her own, assuming she is coming into some cash this holiday season, (which she may or may not - certainly won't be getting any from me), but I'm not sure that's entirely the point. Don't I have to take a stand now? Isn't this the moment in the history of her life when I teach her an important lesson?

Help! What do I do?