fireworks

Celebrating life, liberty & the pursuit of happiness.

Happy Birthday, USA

holiday

We started the 4th of July weekend a little differently this year. Our boy has been at Scout camp all week and won't be reunited with us until tomorrow around 0700; Paige & Bad Dad left home with the neighbors [minus my bff Jen, Assistant Bad Mom] at 0630 this morning to be at the nearest water park by opening hour; best friend & I loafed around all morning until it felt right to go get manicures, then it was time to have lunch at a local cafe before driving to the general area where our families were amusement parking it up, but instead of joining them we scoured the Nordstrom & GAP clearance racks. Finally, we waited for our men & children in the hotel lobby with complimentary wine & a stack of Entertainment Weekly back issues.

It's how we all do togetherness, separately.

An inauspicious beginning to our 3-hour drive
(this is 15 minutes from our house)

Mt. Rainier in sight means only an hour to go!
[Why yes, I did take this shot while driving at 65 mph]

Asleep at the remote

What bad moms do on family vacations

slightly sad mom

This kid

is growing up before my very eyes.


And this kid

is growing up at a camp far away this week.

____________________________

Be back soon.

on the house

You've reached the blog of Bad Mom. She is unable to write a decent post right now because she is across the street at her best friend's house enjoying a cocktail class presented by their Favorite [hottie] Bartender. Please leave a comment and she will return the gesture when her hangover wears off as soon as possible.

beeeeeeeeep

Four drinks in four hours; glad I live 50 feet away.

the edge of fairytale land

Once upon a time, my young prince was our sole source of rollercoaster emotions. As the days wore on, my princess dabbled in hysteria. Now I'm not sure who wears the Drama crown considering Mason successfully, with no very little mania, packed all of his needs for a week at Boy Scout camp and left yesterday morning with a beaming smile on his face while Paige, the Birthday Girl, has spent the better part of today alternately sulking about perceived slights (the nondairy chocolate frozen treats are a different brand than the vanilla ones! STUPID TRADER JOE'S), singing along to The Beatles in the car, and whining about nonsensical issues (I DON'T KNOW IF I'M SUPPOSED TO BRING IN THE GARBAGE CAN OR THE RECYCLING BIN!).

At this very moment, she is fast asleep in her slumber party-ravaged room; I banished her to napdom after she listened to a phone message from a friend inviting her to spend the night then dissolved into a wailing puddle because she wasn't sure WHAT TO SAY if her friend's grandma answered when Paige called back. What?? Now I'm confused, and I have a headache.

If the nap works wonders, I'm sending her to the friend's house and taking my man out on the town to erase this headache...

9 x 3 + 40 = 4 young(ish) ladies pampered

An equation for a fun finishing touch to the birthday weekend - Paige invited a couple of special friends (who were absent from yesterday's festivities) to enjoy spa time [her present from Mom & Dad]. And of course the taxi driver/benefactor got to partake as well. I love summer vacation.

Birthday girl + best friends + The [Good] Mom

party like you're turning 9

Prefunction artwork

Everyone Loves Lisa

Designing an alias
(I wasn't sure of the point here,
but the girls LOOOOOVED it; what do I know?)

The intensely exciting Blindfolded Drawing game

Bad Mom's heart leaps at moments like these

"Naked Mole Rats"
An exclusive painting by friend Stephanie

Snack time

Big candles in a little cake

On her way

___________________

Happy 9th Birthday, darling girl

neither hair nor there

My parents are visiting this weekend for Paige's birthday on Sunday. It is a good thing, I love them and am grateful they are here. Yet as hard as I try, being a grown-up and all, sometimes it is supremely difficult to bite my tongue during certain conversations. Frankly, I deliberately steer discussions to the most mundane, mind-numbingly basic/nearly idiotic topics ("Have you ever tried this kind of cottage cheese?" "I saw a squirrel do the craziest thing the other day!") because I just want to avoid talking about things that turn me back into an annoyed, stifled teenager who glumly realizes she will never, ever change her parents' minds about anything important. And then, being a grown-up, I tell myself it doesn't really matter if they agree with my point of view. But that doesn't help much when the subject is my parenting.

I think this falls under the category of "I can talk about my kids' shortcomings but YOU may not [unless you are my very best friend who knows how to do it kindly. And infrequently]." Tonight my dad reintroduced the subject of Personal Appearance, specifically referring to Mason's oft-preferred method of doing his hair. Which is to say, he doesn't. AND we, his parents, allow this to happen. As I have attempted to explain before, it is a battle I'm not interested in waging given the vast opportunities for engagement ahead of us as he enters adolescence. My dad, a strong-willed Scorpio/Texan/former Navy officer & firefighter [P.S. There is nothing wrong with any of these things; they are just a volatile combination], finds this an unacceptable stance.

We went around a few times (BECAUSE I CANNOT SHUT MYSELF UP) with the main points being It Matters how you look and how people think of you, and it's a parent's job to make sure a kid is looking Right [Dad] vs. Yes It Matters [look at me conceding a point! Maturity in action] in certain circumstances but in the end it is Important to be true to yourself; I see my job as making sure my kids realize the impact of their appearance but ultimately make their own choices. To which he pursed his lips and looked away, shaking his head. But you know what? That is progress. Previously, he would lapse into an ominous stony silence to indicate his disapproval and everyone in the vicinity would suffer in discomfort. Tonight, he seemed more resigned to my liberal hippie ways and gave me a hug & kiss on his way out the door.

Maybe next time I'll talk about how I allow my students to wear hats & swear in class.

upheaval

Our school will be in a different building next year [not to be confused with the new building we'll be in by 2010]. Thus the outrageous task of packing all of my books, plans, and crap treasures. And while we are not leaving behind anything close to a state-of-the-art facility, it has been our home. I've been aggravated about the boxing & sorting and such not because it's a nuisance as much as because I really will miss my rundown, no heater, broken blinds, busted light fixture, haunted by past students' complaints & jeers & chuckles & cheers old room.

Welcome to G-8.

The right side is exclusively for student works.
[I took that pic of the lightbulb at the Ace Hotel in Seattle;
the sign next to it says 'renegade brilliance']

The view out my north window

My space

Bare

Lonely

Goodbye