Opening Ceremonies, or the moment I know I'm raising my children right

I'm a dork. I admit it. Every four years (well, now every two), I anticipate the opening ceremonies of the Olympics. I watch, I get teary-eyed, it's great.

Nobody in my family shares my enthusiasm (even the dogs look at me crazy), but at least Craig is tolerant (especially because he can watch a DVD on the laptop).

The ceremony last night was conveniently timed to begin right before we had dinner (taco salads, in true international spirit), so I paused the program (thank you, TIVO!) and made the kids watch with me. They were interested, sort of, for the first few minutes. At least anytime there were flashing lights or explosions.

My darling daughter, the model of refinement and elegance, made a cultural observation:

"If Memphis hosted the Olympics, we'd ghetto it up real good!"

And her brother, with impeccable timing and wit, added:

"It would be the Ghett-Olympics!"

Still here

Sorry for the absence. It's been a busy few days. So you get bullet points. Lucky you!

• Saturday was spent shopping for the Oscar party we hosted Sunday. We planned our errands well, finishing (well, mostly) in time to eat some Mexican food then get home and watch the most frustrating basketball game ever.
  
• Sunday was spent preparing for, then hosting, said Oscar party. It was a good party, with nine guests and food, as usual, themed to go with the best picture nominees. Can I just say that if there hadn't been a scene involving a grocery sack of baguettes in Michael Clayton, that movie would have been impossible to pair with food? Because George Clooney never eats or drinks in the whole movie. Juno was much easier, for obvious reasons.
  
• I'm working on my first performance review as a supervisor at the Corporation. I'm not really enjoying it.
  
• We just got home from a very, very long school program. It was for Black History Month, but it was called the "Brotherhood" program. I think I need to bring to someone's attention that by choosing to not use the word "Black" they instead used a word that is not a bit inclusive, but, in fact, leaves out 51% of the population. Hint: "Unity" is a lovely word.
  
• I have a bad feeling that American Idol could turn me into an alcoholic. It's a bad, bad season this year.

Now that it's all written down, it doesn't seem like much. But it's felt like more. I'm delighted to have no plans for the next three evenings, because it's going to be an amazingly packed weekend. I just hope March doesn't speed by quite as quickly as February did, because I'm a little stunned that we're in the last few days of the month.

Unproductive time

I had such lofty goals for my time in Birmingham. I was going to work on my NaNoWriMo book. I was going to work out every day. I was going to venture out to exciting restaurants.

Bet you're dying to know what I've accomplished. Yes?

I've become completely addicted to C.S.I. Specifically, the Las Vegas version.

It began innocently enough. My lovely family dropped me off at the Birmingham airport, and I drove away in my rental car, hotel-bound. We'd just spent the better part of a week together, half the time driving to and from Orlando, Florida. We'd ridden roller coasters and other thrill rides. We'd spent quality time with my parents. We'd braved a rare cold front in the usually-balmy Sunshine State.

I was, sad to say, a little tired upon my arrival to the hotel.

And I switched on the television. I don't know exactly what happened, but I watched most of a pretty lame movie starring J. Lo, then ordered some lovely Chinese food (the only nearby restaurant listed on Delivery.com), and somehow the television found itself on an episode of C.S.I.

Then another.

And another.

Turns out Spike runs FIVE episodes of C.S.I., back to back, on Sundays.

The rest of the week's evenings have been spent in fervent searches for more episodes. I'm telling you, it's like crack.

As a result, I've not ventured far from my hotel room, other than attending the training I'm here for. I've eaten nothing wonderful. All dinners except one have been consumed in my room, in the chair I'm currently occupying, with the television just four feet away.

I found an episode at 7 this evening, but haven't found one at 8, so I'm drooling while watching Jamie Oliver on Iron Chef America. I'm pretty sure E.R. is new at 9, but I know I'll get two more C.S.I. episodes at 10 and 11.

And I'm eating from the same Chinese place. There was a tornado warning this afternoon, and it's still windy and rainy and I didn't feel like going anywhere.

BUT! I did work out as soon as I got back from "work." So that's something, right?

And I've got dinner plans with my "co-workers" next week. On two days!

But I'll be getting "home" early, because I'm a junkie.

(Is it totally horrible that I'm looking forward to getting back here on Sunday night?)

Bullet point update

I've neglected my blog lately, but haven't had anything to write about, really. So here's a bullet point update.

• My kids did a great job in their respective performances at the school's holiday program. Alex and Susie both had more than one thing to do, so Craig and I remained engaged in the action pretty much the whole time. Susie has made good progress on the cello, and Alex amazed all of us with his mad hip-hop dancing skillz. He also received his award for coming in second place in the art contest, so it was a good evening all around.
  
• We did almost all our holiday shopping in one fell swoop yesterday. In the rain. And the cold. But we were done, and home, by 3 p.m., which made for a nice relaxing evening with the visiting in-laws. Barbeque was consumed, basketball was watched, and all was well.
  
• My daughter is mired in some pretty crazy pre-teen girl drama with a friend who moved away about two years ago. They have an email group, along with a few other girls (and I get copied on all the emails), and the last few days have been, well, high-traffic. And pissy. It's a hint, I think, of the years to come. I alternate between being amused and feeling sorry for the girls. Email is a hard way to communicate, even without hormones flaring. Not sure if I need to intervene yet, but I'm glad my daughter put me on the distribution list, just so I can see what's going on.
  
• The lack of television, due to the writers' strike, is beginning to make a difference in my life. And after tonight it'll be even worse, I'm afraid (season finales of Dexter and Survivor). Please, networks, get this sorted out. It's looking pretty bleak for January.
  
• It's unreasonably cold today. But it sort of got me in the holiday spirit. Go figure.

Annnnnnnd, that's all.

NaBloPoMo: A Triumph

Well, maybe a little melodramatic. Triumph? Okay, fine. Success.

In other news, I dragged myself and my daughter to see a documentary last night. I was a little stunned at the tiny, tiny crowd (when we sat down, we doubled the audience, but a few others straggled in, making an audience of about ten, including the panelists for the discussion afterward.

The film was short, about 30 minutes, consisting of adolescent and pre-adolescent girls talking about the media. It was filmed in 2000, so some of the pop-culture references are a little dated (back then, Britney Spears was still considered a role model - the daughter and I just giggled and giggled over that one), but most of the content carried more general themes, some of which I could remember experiencing at that age. The gist of it being that the media creates some physical expectations of what girls are supposed to look like, and it's impossible to look like that, and that catch-22 sacrifices some self-esteem in these girls.

Susie was interested and engaged during the movie, and vigorously nodded when I asked her if the girls in her Girl Scout troop would be interested in watching it sometime. I, however, was more engaged in the panel discussion afterward. I haven't flexed my feminist theory muscles many times in the past few years, and it was nice to be in a room with feminists who engage in such discussion frequently. I heard my voice saying phrases like "dominant paradigm" and I was a little stunned.

Even more stunned when the two panelists approached me after the discussion and asked for my contact information so we could continue the conversation and some of it was applicable in their research and I think I might have glazed over at this point because of the sheer happiness.

I had found my people.

I didn't know how much I had missed them.

So ladies, please, hurry up and call me. I need you in my life.

And that, my friends, is my final post for November. I have posted every day. I have bored myself, and probably you, occasionally, but I've also dug inside and found a few bits of gold. Thank you for the comments and the emails and the awesomeness. While I started out writing this for me, I've found myself thinking of you more and more as I write. I know some of you in person, even more of you online, and it's awfully gratifying to see loyal readers stopping by to see what this dorky girl is up to.

I do not promise daily posts in December, but I do expect to continue writing most weekdays.

Peace out, and bring on the holiday decorations!

An interesting day it was

Friday capped off a very work-intensive week for me. And around noon, I got dessert.

11/9/04 was the date I first interviewed with the Corporation, and also the date I got the job offer that changed me from a banker to what I am now. The job I got was a newly-created position, one that was well-suited to my strengths.

This job has mostly been satisfying. There have been frustrations, of course, but I've never dreaded going to work. And I feel very very good about where I work and what I do there. I know I play a valuable role, and my work is high-quality. I've received public accolades after just a year on the job and was asked to join a professional association's steering committee.

But lately, I've felt like I could do more. And this spring, when I got a new boss, she started seeing that I could do more.

And yesterday, at my annual performance evaluation (which, if you must know, went extremely well), we continued a conversation from the day before. A conversation that included the words "promotion" and "new position" and "manager" and "pay grade increase" and "human resources" and "job description".

Needless to say, it was a good day.

Followed by clocking out a little early to walk to the kids' school, a snack at Bigfoot Lodge, a drive to the 'burbs to drop the kids with their respective sleepover hosts, a trip to Davis-Kidd to treat myself to a new purse, dinner, and some much-appreciated TiVo'd shows.

Just try to get the smile off my face. I dare you.

NaBloPoMo, NaNoWriMo, schwaaa?

Why did I sign up for both of these? Insanity? Over-enthusiasm? Too much of a joiner? And why am I re-starting my running program at the same time?

Blog posting daily isn't that much different from what I already do. I post almost every weekday, so I'm just adding the weekends. Possibly challenging on Thanksgiving weekend, when my brother is finally marrying that hot girlfriend of his, but I'm confident that I'll find an internet connection somewhere in Chicago.

This book writing, though, requires 1,667 words, on average, every day. Given that, up to this point, I've written 100 words (go ahead, count!), it's not impossible. But given that I still don't know exactly what I'm writing about, we may have a problem. Plus, there's this prioritization that needs to happen on days like today: I need to go to the gym, I need to write 1,667 words, Survivor and ER are on. Um, yeah. It's not going to be easy. Thank goodness for TIVO.

Anyone done NaNoWriMo successfully? How did you manage your time? Did you write every day or did you have writing binges once or twice a week?

I'm going to track my progress on these three projects in my sidebar. Miles run, consecutive days posted, and word count. So cheer me on, or something. Or at least buy me a drink when it's all over.

Sorry

I know! Dozens of people depend on my words to get them through the day. And I'm failing them.

But I have a good excuse. Honest! I'm sick as a dog (well, sicker than my dogs...they're not sick at all) and still don't feel like myself. I'm leaving Dr. Google alone because he'll tell me that I have Lyme Disease or M.S. and really I think it's just a virus. But if I'm not better by tomorrow I'll go to the doctor, just to hear her tell me that it's just a virus and all I can do is wait it out and rest.

This has thrown me off my 5K training. And blogging. And reading email. And a lot of other things. But I've watched a lot of "How Clean Is Your House?" and "The Dog Whisperer" and this other show, which might be my new favorite show ever, "You Are What You Eat." TLC - you're on notice. I'm going back to school to become a dietitian. When I'm done, I'm expecting a fat contract to do the American version of this show. Because I'm perfect for the job.

I promise that I'll post more this week. But I cannot guarantee the quality of said posts. And still, no laptop. Ten days and counting.

Four of five

First, a little housekeeping. Sorry to have been an absentee blogger for the last several days. My wonderful parents came to visit and we were having too much fun assembling Ikea furniture for me to post anything.

Back to the questions:

Which of the Democratic candidates running for President is inspiring you lately?

Yikes. Here's the thing (and this actually refers to a conversation I had with my parents this weekend). I'm not very up on current events.

With my non-commute and MP3 player and inappropriate love for listening to politically-incorrect podcasts that contain lots of bad words, I've slipped in my understanding of global and national news.

When I worked across town and commuted to work, I was a much-better-informed voter, at least in national elections. I've never been a fan of local news (sorry!), but my commute gave me an hour or so of uninterrupted NPR listening time. When we were going to war after September 11, I had a pretty decent understanding of what was going on, so when I was critical of the administration and its actions, I was able to back up my words. These days, I'm lucky to get an hour of NPR news a week. Mostly I learn about current events from The Daily Show and Real Time with Bill Maher. Not bad sources, but I won't say they're objective. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I know more about Britney Spears and Keven Federline's custody battle than the state of the presidential race.

That being said, I do have a favorite candidate so far. Two favorites, really. One that I'll vote for and one that I wish had a fighting chance.

Dennis Kucinich and Hillary Clinton. I think you can figure out which is which, right?

Slumber party update

First of all, I apologize for the cliffhanger. I really didn't mean to leave people in the dark about the Friday night party.

The party went very, very well. Honestly, it went much better than I expected. Does that mean there was no drama? Um, nope. But it was manageable drama, and it resulted from a bad allergy attack, not conflict.

Without saying too much, the friend we were most concerned about, M_, has a few issues that she comes by pretty honestly. One of those issues is a pretty intense reaction when someone else seems ill (really, it seems to me, any symptom of illness is enough to make her upset or frightened). The apparent cause of this is not my story to tell. But I get it.

So, the party is going along great. Craig made a cake in honor of the occasion.



I picked up pizza and made lemonade. They had their plates of pizza ready in time to count down the final thirty seconds before the international premier of High School Musical 2.



They all loved the movie and sang along with the songs (don't ask me how they already knew the songs when it was the premier of the movie...I guess they're smart like that), then they went upstairs and played the High School Musical 2 board game that Craig bought.

And then one of the girls had an allergy attack, with stuffy nose and a bit of dizziness. Turns out she was sitting in the chair that my little dog uses for naps, and since she doesn't have pets, she didn't know that she just might be allergic. 800 boxes of tissues, a few tears, and a dose of Benadryl later, she was fine (and the first to fall asleep). But sensitive M_ got very worried and got weepy and scared. So at one point, Craig and I were tag-teaming, me comforting the allergy girl (who very emphatically did not want me to take her home, but was crying a bit and not feeling well) and he reassuring M_.

But really, that was just ten or fifteen minutes out of a slumber party that started right after school and ended, for some of the kids, twenty-four hours later.

So I guess we can't swear off slumber parties quite yet.

YouTube

From Craig's marvelous surfing. Enjoy.

Email conversation with my daughter

Names have been changed to protect the innocent (or guilty...)

We're hosting a party on Friday in honor of the debut of "High School Musical 2." (If you don't have tweens in the house, you just won't understand.) Alex's friends aren't interested, and aren't coming. Fortunately he gets along well with Susie's friends, so we'll all be entertained.

So here's what went down in email between Susie and me yesterday afternoon:

Me:

Can you make sure to invite whoever you are going to invite to the party on Friday? People need to be invited TODAY. Please do this now, or it won't be much of a party.

Thanks, sweetie.

I love you.
Mom.

Susie:
ummm, i think I want to invite J_, is that ok? i dont want m_ to sleep over though ok? i am inviting these people if its ok
m_
j_
g_
m_
i_

Me:

Okay, how are you going to manage having some people sleep over and not others? That could cause hurt feelings. Maybe we should just have a party, not a sleepover? What do you think?

Susie:
:-( :-( :-( I just know m_ would do exactly what she did last time, keep everyone awake! And g_ and her always get in fights. mom i am serious i am going to cry if i cant have a sleepover. :-( :'-(

Me:

I understand. I just want you to figure out a way to do it and not have M_ feel left out.

Susie:
can i have just 2 or 3 people sleep over like not for the party, if so they will be
g_
i_
maybe j_

Me:

Like I said, figure out how other people's feelings won't be hurt.

Susie:
mom, it would be just to sleep over not 4 the party!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me:

I understand.
But if you went to a party and some of the kids were going to sleep over and some weren't, how would you feel if you were one of the kids who didn't get invited to spend the night?

Susie:
ugh u dont understand, if u want me to be grumpy that morning then i will let m_ sleepover but i like being happy and i like sleep


The gist of this is: if you only have boys and that makes you sad and you think you want girls, read this post again and again. The drama. Ugh.

But, seriously, Susie's right. This girl, M_, has a history of being, erm, difficult, especially at slumber parties. She doesn't do well in groups of girls: she's a possessive friend who hates sharing Susie's attention. She and G_ are an especially volatile combination.

It gets sticky, though, because I really like M_'s mom (and the rest of the family, actually). (And I'm confident that they don't read my blog.)

So, do I talk to the mom about this? Do I trust Susie to talk to M_ about it? Do I let her spend the night and then bust it up if she causes problems? HALP!

Much better thank you

After a bad Tuesday, I had a much better Wednesday, despite working 12 hours. Work was good, even kind of fun at times (I really do like my colleagues so much). We had a thunderstorm appear out of nowhere about an hour before closing time, and three different people offered to drive me home, knowing that I walk to work. Fortunately, the storm was over by the time I left, so I got my walk.

Since Craig and the kids were seeing a movie, I had the house, the tv, and the computer to myself. I made my triumphant return to MamaPopTalk for the open threads on So You Think You Can Dance AND Top Chef. The snark was succulent last night, and just what I needed after a long day.

On tap today: our department's turn to be audited, which is my specialty. I actually like the Corporation's auditors and have a good working relationship with them. And then a trip to the gym, and the outdoor showing of Napoleon Dynamite. Somehow I've got to fit a trip to Costco in there somehow, since my dogs are out of dog food and ate Milk Bones for breakfast (I don't think they minded a bit).

A BlogHer recap is coming, I promise. It's just hard to put it all in words.

The basic problem

Now that I have all this time on my hands, no rehearsals, all the end-of-school-year programs finished, birthday season complete, I was really looking forward to sitting around and watching television.

But I realized that last week was season finale week. Which means this week, with a clear calendar and the desire to plant my bum into the couch and exercise only my remote-control thumb, there's nothing on.

Any good movies I should rent?

Dress rehearsals

The last two evenings, I came home from work for a few minutes, only to jump in the car and drive to dress rehearsal, stay there a really long time, then return home, only to wash off my makeup and get in bed. I'm tired and I miss hanging out with the kids.

Tonight is my break. We have another rehearsal tomorrow, then performances Friday and Sunday. As I already disclosed, Saturday is a busy day. So tonight, I'm wearing pajamas and watching a mind-destroying quantity of television. I might cook dinner, too. Because I'm a giver.

So, if you live in the Memphis area, this it my moment to encourage you to attend one of the concerts this weekend. Why?

I could sell you on our fantastic soloists. I could sell you on the whole "Gilbert and Sullivan = funny, funny stuff" idea. I could sell you on the "please support local arts groups" message.

But that's not my tactic. Oh no.

You should come to this concert because it's your chance, and very likely your ONLY chance, to see me in a hot pink tutu.

Pop? UU Bet!

My blog straddles a few lines: mommy blog, UU blog, pop culture blog. And the UU bloggers are discussing a great topic that is on all sides for me:

So…do you feel too stupid to be a UU?
1. Do you watch Survivor? American Idol?
2. Do you root with Jerry Springer or love the Maury paternity test shows? [I’m a thousand percent sure I do!]
3. Have you read less than 2 of the books/authors you hear regularly mentioned as being essential to UUism or mentioned in a sermon?
4. Would you rather watch prime time than go to an art gallery opening?

My answers?

1. Yes, yes. I even play along at Mamapop on American Idol day. And I have a t-shirt. Also on my tivo are "Bad Girls Club" and "The Amazing Race" and almost any other reality show out there. Including "The Surreal Life Fame Games." Really.

2. No....those shows have too much shouting.

3. Reading? Yeah. In my spare time. (Hint: what's spare time?) The last "deep" book I read was in 1999. I didn't have a job. And I had PPD. I needed that book (Amazing Grace by Kathleen Norris). But other than that? My reading is mostly food magazines, blogs, and books by Anthony Bourdain or Poppy Z. Brite.

4. Is there free wine at the art gallery? Because that would definitely tip the scales. I have Tivo, after all. Prime time can wait.

But am I too stupid to be a UU? Hell no. I'm smart. My mom says so! And I've learned in my 35 (almost 36!) years on this planet that it really doesn't matter how many televisions are in my house, or if they're tuned to PBS (they rarely are), or if I'm reading deep books. It does, however, matter that when I watch Survivor, my husband and kids are in the room with me, and that we all participate in our own "tally the votes" ritual that involves holding up hands and feet for who got votes. That's something that we do. Like we're a tribe. It matters that I get to know my neighbors and am an active and engaged member of my community. It matters that I join in rather than sitting in the back row. Maybe my emails to the church's discussion email list aren't as well-crafted as Paul's, but I can still hold my own in a conversation with Paul. His kids are grown; he has time to read deep books.

Nope. It doesn't matter a bit. And I'm a smart mommy for knowing that.

I'd like to thank the academy

The biggest night of the year, in my household, is coming Sunday. Craig's Master's degree is in film, and he teaches film history classes. Add to that fact a bizarre obsession with awards shows in general, and you've got the makings of an Academy Awards addiction.

One way our church raises money every year is our auction. That evening, members and friends bid on items and events donated by members (and others, solicited by members). A large amount of the money raised is by folks bidding on "seats" at parties hosted by church members. Since I love to throw a party, especially a theme party, and I don't have great stuff laying around my house to donate, and I have no particular artistic skills, Craig and I "donate" two or three parties to the auction each year.

The Oscar Party is Craig's baby. I just help. It involves an Oscar pool with prizes and a menu planned to match the films nominated for Best Picture. Last year we had a pretty easy time: Beans and Weenies for Brokeback Mountain, hummus and matzos for Munich, and a brilliant "Shrimp In Cold Blood Oranges" for Capote. This year provided a bit more of a challenge in menu design. Sure, waffles and chocolate ice cream for Little Miss Sunshine. Scones and cucumber sandwiches for The Queen. Green tea ice cream and sushi for Letters from Iwo Jima. But Babel? The Departed?

Craig and I had to get creative. We had to dig deep. We had to, gulp, go on the internet.

Okay, I confess. I've only seen two of the nominated movies so far. And they were the easy ones.

Fortunately the research helped, and here's what I remember of the menu we've got planned:
The Departed: (takes place in Boston, Irish gangsters and cops) Irish potato and cabbage bundles and a Guinness-chocolate dessert, beer.
Letters From Iwo Jima: green tea ice cream, sushi, the sake part of sake-gria
The Queen: scones, cucumber sandwiches, tea
Babel: tomatillo-guacamole salsa, couscous salad with dates and almonds, and the "gria" part of sake-gria

Sakegria made its first appearance at my birthday party last May. And it was a hit. Roughly, it's one part plum sake, two parts regular sake, three parts white wine, one part red wine, one part mango juice, one part pineapple juice, and one part champagne, with fresh fruit added. Roughly? Because the first two pitchers were made in advance. The next four (it was a big party) were made in the frenzy of during the party with fifty people in my house oh my heavens, and that meant I was not measuring. But nobody seemed to notice or care, because it was good every time.

Happy Oscar Day, everyone. I've got a lot of work to do.

Sick day

Yesterday began with weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth, and not just because it was Valentine's Day. Sweet Susie had been suffering from a headache for the two days prior, and had spiked a bit of a fever on Tuesday night. With some area schools closing because of the flu this month, I figured that a virus was in the house.

I went to her room yesterday morning and felt her head: hot. Took her temperature. 102.5. Not a judgement call; definitely too sick for school. Even if it was Valentine's Day and she had worked hard making valentines for her friends! and! there was going to be a party! at school! with candy!

So we stayed home yesterday (I didn't feel well either, but never got warmer than 99.5) and actually had a pretty nice day. She spent most of her time on the computer, but then she decided she wanted to be in the same room as me and suggested we watch a movie, so we did.

Craig was more gone than home yesterday (his teaching schedule is heaviest on Mondays and Wednesdays), so we mostly were just two females in the house together, in varying amounts of health, with lots of blankets, tea, and miso soup. Snuggly dogs didn't hurt the mood at all.

We were in my bed last night, Susie and I, snuggling and watching some kid television, and she thanked me for staying home with her. Does it say something bad about me that I was just a little sad that she didn't have any fever this morning?

Friends, part 4

Continued....to read the whole series start here, then go here, and here.

I already posted about an important friend I lost too young. She was my first "mommy" friend, and she made a big impact in my life. But there's another friend, my "best" mommy friend. She's been there in the trenches with me, almost from the start of motherhood. We've changed each other's children's diapers. We've never argued and we've never hurt each other's feelings. Our friendship began because of our children but has continued because of our shared values and beliefs, as well as our similar background and upbringing. I've joked that if anything happened to her husband and to me, that I would want Craig to marry her (and I think that would be okay with him). She lent me the dinosaur cake pan for Alex's second birthday party. She changed churches when I did. She's supported me through dark times, and I'm truly grateful for her friendship. And the girl? Can hold her liquor. I'm just saying.

I met K.M. the same place I met most of my mommy friends. At a La Leche League meeting. She was pregnant, near her due date, and had attended the meeting at the urging of her Bradley childbirth instructors. It must have been December or January, because her baby was born in February. That baby is turning nine this week. So that's how long we've been friends - nine years.

K.M. and I hit it off straightaway, but when she and her family began attending the church where I worked, the bond was solidified. We obviously had things in common. Our babies played together in the church nursery, and soon enough, in each other's homes, too. My second child was born and I quit my job, and we started spending much more time together. (My daughter's first attempt at drowning was in K.M.'s mom's pool.)

K.M. is one of the nicest people I've ever met. And when I tell her that, she's astonished: she claims to be shy (whatever). Because she's also humble. And self-effacing. And all those other things that make charming people so darn charming. She's pretty and funny and smart and sometimes I just want to braid her hair. Because she's likable that way.

Our children don't remember a time that they weren't friends. Early on, we arranged the marriage of her son and my daughter (they've since broken it off but decided to stay friends). They were adorable babies and toddlers....three (my two, her one) blond, round, cherubic little ones who honestly resembled each other enough to prompt restaurant hostesses to ask if they were triplets. We babysat for each other without keeping score. When one of us needed help, the other was there. It was good like that. We intended to take a family vacation together, but we never got around to it.

In 2001, K.M. and her husband decided to do what they'd wanted to do since they got married: move to Montana. Which is very, very far from Memphis. On September 11, 2001, her husband got in the car and drove there, leaving K.M. and her son behind in Memphis. He was due at his new job in a few days, and their house had not sold yet. Since it was freaking September 11, I told her to come over to our house because there was absolutely no way that anyone should be alone that night. We watched the footage and our children played.

We spent a great deal of time together that winter and spring, and then her house sold. That was in March. We got a group of used-to-be La Leche League moms (our kids were mostly past that point by then) together for dinner and gave her a wonderful send-off. And a few days later, the kids and I went over to her house to help her finish packing and vacuum and clean up and load the van and take some of her plants that wouldn't fit. And she moved away to Montana.

This post could easily turn sappy and sentimental (wait, it already did? Crap.), but that's not the goal. So now, now that you know that our friendship no longer has the day-to-day immediacy of "before", let's look at a few crucial moments that define our friendship, in no order at all because chronology is sometimes hard.

::When the kids were little, sometimes Craig worked as a consultant and went out of town for a week or so at a time. So, one of those times, K.M. and I had a sleepover. That was silly and fun. Except her son woke up pre-crack-of-dawn, so they disappeared before I got up.

::White Elephant parties every December, alternating houses. The light saber that wouldn't go away. The bottle of Arrogant Bastard beer that she brought every year.

::Taking digital pictures with her camera, of my kids wearing hemp clothes and other things I tried to sell on the internet.

::I'm not going to say anything else except: what I almost saw, but didn't, on the video camera. She knows what that means. And it is just as funny now as it was then. Maybe funnier.

::Hawking her homemade batik and my baby products at the Cooper-Young festival.

::A couple of months after the move to Montana, she was back in Memphis for a few days, then would be heading to Florida. Astonishingly enough, our schedules coordinated this well: She and I ditched the kids with Craig (bless him) and went out to breakfast, went to Christie's yoga class, then got manicures and pedicures! Craig and the kids and I were heading to Orlando to meet my parents for a very traditional family vacation. She and her son were also going to be in Orlando, but they always flew standby, so their dates were uncertain. My phone rang while Craig and I were in line for a ride at Universal Studios. K.M. and son were in Orlando. Could we get together? We gave her directions to the resort and spent the next afternoon at the pool, acting like that was totally planned (it wasn't).

::Talking to her a few days before, and a few days after, the home birth of her daughter. She took her time deciding to have that second child, but little K was worth the wait.

::I'm very, very fortunate in that K.M.'s family (and her husband's family) all live in Memphis. She visits at least twice a year, and we generally get her for the better part of a day, or at least an afternoon and evening. The kids look forward to seeing their buddy, and Craig looks forward to cuddling now-preschooler little K. We catch up, we hang out, we show her what she's missing by not having every single channel that the satellites can beam into a house.

::Commiserating while we each dealt with construction. Her house in Montana had a major fire a few years ago and had to be almost entirely rebuilt. We were building out new home at the same time. Swapping tales of contractors and workers and "what the hell are they doing that takes so long?" is nice, because, honestly, nobody else really wanted to hear it.

::Hearing tales of her life before marriage and children is always eye-opening. She was a pilot. She had adventures. She had great romance and some trauma, too. But the stories are just as good "after" too: she's trained for and run marathons, she competed her M.S.W. while her first child was a baby, now she's in nursing school. She's the most driven laid-back person I've ever met.

::This is probably the best one, the story that sums what kind of person K.M. is. She had my kids (I probably had to work and Craig was out of town). They were pre-school age, maybe 2 and 4, with her son rounding it out at 3. Anyway, she called me to ask me if it was okay if she took them bowling. No problem, right? Did I mention she was a social worker, and her clients were homeless, drug-addicted veterans? No? And that they were all going bowling? Because yes. My kids' first bowling experience was with homeless drug addicts. The best part? My mom called me and asked me what my kids were doing. And I told her. And she wasn't surprised, not a bit.

What do you think of this?

Blogger Melissa Summers of Suburban Bliss was on television today, discussing the "new" trend of moms having a drink or two at playgroups.

Melissa's kids are a bit younger than my own, so I really don't experience "playgroups" anymore, but anyway. I watched the segment and am stunned at how our society has found yet another way to pit mothers against each other.

When my kids were little, we were on a pretty tight budget, so I don't remember terribly many times that I drank, whether with friends or not. However, we did host New Year's parties which were attended by people with kids, and there were certainly adult beverages in the room. And children. And nothing bad happened.

And as the budget has allowed a bit more discretionary spending over the past few years, my kids have certainly seen Mommy and Daddy drinking wine or beer. In fact, there's a lot of evidence that red wine is good for Mommy and Daddy.

The more I think about this interview, the more I become infuriated. Is this what we're doing, now? In America? Calling mothers to the carpet? Mothers who sacrifice and do the best they can to raise nice children? Mothers who are, more than ever, isolated from family and friends, don't know their neighbors because of our more-mobile-than-ever society? Mothers who work hard with no pay? Because this whole Mommy Wars thing is a bunch of crap.

I'm sure there are plenty of people who would criticize my family for our style of parenting - I work about 45 hours a week and also do volunteer work that takes me away from the family for another eight or so hours per week. My husband does the laundry and picks up the kids from school. But you know what? My kids are great. They're loved. They have parents who are involved not only in their lives, but in the life of adulthood, too. The kids get glimpses behind the adult "curtain" more and more, because we think they need to see what adulthood is before they get there. So they see us have a glass of wine. They hear grown-up conversations. They even see us kissing sometimes.

But you know what? They're totally not ready to watch Monty Python's The Meaning of Life. Don't ask.