Picket Fence Post

Consider this, “Three for Thursday: The Comedy Edition”

Item #1: ‘One Funny Mother’ in Natick (Mass.)

The Manic Mommies think we moms need a laugh. So they’ve invited comedian Dena Blizzard to Natick, Mass. to do a one-woman show called “One Funny Mother: I’m Not Crazy” next week. Blizzard – who I saw during the Manic Mommies’ first “Escape” weekend — lives up to her billing, plus her act includes parentally incorrect humor.

The show — which I’m planning on attending even though all three of my kids have games/practices/classes on that afternoon/evening — is on Thursday, May 7 at The Center for Arts in Natick (14 Summer Street) at 7:30. As far as I know, tickets are still available . . . but only for those who feel like laughing.

Item #2: A Scary ‘Little Boy Blue’ Rendition

Speaking of humor . . . if you’re angry with your tot for any reason, have him or her watch actor Michael Emerson — who plays the sinister Ben Linus on Lost — recite the most unsettling version of the nursery rhyme “Little Boy Blue” that I’ve ever seen. (Link to the video here.)

Item #3: New Mom Jen Garner on Letterman

One of the things I love about actress Jennifer Garner is that during all the media interviews I’ve seen her do over the years, she’s continued to come across as grounded and real. Since she’s become a mother — she has a 3-year-old and a 3-month-old — Garner has continued telling it like it is, including how she “fakes” being a mom who has it ”all together.”

Case-in-point, her appearance on The Late Show with David Letterman. I loved what she said about how even though she tries to tackle the multitude of things on her plate between work and her young daughters all while she’s in the throes of sleep deprivation, it eventually catches up with her. (Link to the video here.)

In the second part of the interview (link to the second part of the interview here), Garner talked about how much calmer and more laid back she is as a second-time mom, and how her older daughter is handling being a big sister. Letterman also asked Garner about the wounds she had on her leg (she said she simply fell down) and slathered them with an anti-bacterial gel like the doting dad that he is, particularly when he talks about parenting his own son Harry.

Remember way back in December I wrote about how, less than 10 hours after The Spouse’s 18-year-old cat died just after we decorated our Christmas tree, that The Girl began inquiring when we’d be getting a dog, just like the Obama girls? The issue about which I also wrote a column?

Well now it’s been four months since we first broached the subject of getting a dog for our family. The Obamas got their dog a few weeks ago, and now The Girl is wondering where OUR dog is. I told her that we’re still in the deliberative/research phase of this whole canine thing. The first step was to figure out what kind of dog we’d like, I told her, so, when we were at the library over the weekend, I borrowed a photo-filled book of dogs for everyone’s browsing pleasure.

The Youngest Boy (7), for some reason, kept saying, “Let’s get a pit bull!” To which I replied, “Never. No way.” Then he modified his request, suggesting that we get a dog he could “ride,” To which I said, “Never. No way.”

Since I work from home and will likely spend more time with this dog than anyone else in the family, I’ve made the executive assertion that I get to set some of the ground rules such as: No huge or drooly dogs. “Small dogs make small poop,” I’ve joked with the kiddos (half joking . . . kind of), adding that I don’t want some princess-y pocketbook dog either.

With those loose criteria in mind, the kids started to place bookmarks in the dog book to indicate their favorites. The Youngest Boy put bookmarks next to pictures of Yorkshire terriers, Cairn terriers (like Toto from The Wizard of Oz), a West Highland terrier (sensing a theme here?), and a pit bull terrier (he just wouldn’t let that pit bull thing go). The Girl echoed her younger brother’s West Highland terrier choice (those dogs look just like the McDuff character in the Rosemary Wells books) and a miniature poodle (my parents have a black one named Kelly whom she loves). The Eldest Boy, who has repeatedly said he does not want a dog but is resigned to the fact that it’s going to happen whether he likes it or not, ironically identified big dogs, a golden retriever and a Labrador retriever.

I decided not to identify any type specific breed because I don’t want to overly influence others, except for eliminating pit bulls and giant, drooly dogs that a 7-year-old could ride like a pony.

However The Spouse has yet to put any bookmarks in the dog book . He’s not so much on this dog bandwagon. Me thinks he’s going to need a bit of a nudge.

That being said I’d love to hear from you dog owners who have dogs and young kids: What kind of dog do you think would work for a busy family of five (kids ages 7, 10 and 10), given that I don’t want a big, drooly dog that’s difficult to care, groom or train?

Image: This web site.

I’ve been blogging about parenting since 2005. My first parenting blog had the word “mommy” in the title. (I’ve been writing columns about parenting for a decade.)

My book — a collection of humor/parenting columns – has the word “mom” in the title, as in “suburban mom.”

I continue to blog under the name “Suburban Mom,” though that blog (Suburban Mom: Notes from the Asylum) now covers all manner of pop culture and politics, not parenting.

I write for a web site — Mommy Track’d – that has the name “mommy” in the title.

So when I heard that some folks were taking issue with the terms “mommy blogger” and the Today Show’s “digital moms,” saying that they’re used by the mainstream media as dismissive and pejorative labels — turning “mommy bloggers” into the ”modern day June Cleaver” – I decided to contact several women who are mothers who blog to see what they think about the monikers and whether they believe the mainstream media cop a patronizing attitude toward folks, particularly women folk, who write about parenting.

The result is my column entitled, “Mainstream Media Mommy Box,” where I had an excuse to again reference my favorite newspaper columnist, Dave Barry, who has frequently mentioned his family’s exploits in his writing.

The kiddos watched two out of the three Red Sox-Yankees games this weekend, after the Old Towne Team did some good old fashioned sweeping of the series.

During game one — which The Spouse was able to attend in the flesh (I would’ve attended had he not gotten the tickets last-minute, too late to rustle up babysitting so I could join him) — the kids watched until around 9 p.m. or so then caught the rest of the 4-hour-21-minute odyssey on the DVR the next day. (”YOUK!!!!” I e-mailed to The Spouse after Kevin Youkilis won the game for the Sox, cheering wildly by myself in the family room, not really caring if I woke the kids. I didn’t by the way.)

On Saturday, we all watched the beginning of the game together, set the DVR, then went out to dinner. (It was killing me to hear the folks in the restaurant’s bar cheering and yelling, so The Spouse pulled out his BlackBerry and we followed the game’s progress on that.) When we returned home, the five of us watched the rest of the 4+ hours of the game off the DVR. (Can you say “grand slam?”)

Last night, with a dreadful 8 p.m. starting time on ESPN, the kids didn’t get to watch any of the game. They had to get up early to return to school after a long spring vacation. (*kicking up my heels*)

Until today. When they saw the Big Play. You know the one. That steal. Of home plate. By Jacoby Ellsbury, he with the fleet feet.

The Youngest Boy and I watched the home plate steal on SportsCenter this morning after his siblings had already left for school.  The two fourth graders had to wait until after school to see the SportsCenter video, during which I beamed with enthusiasm as I watched them watching.  However The Eldest Boy complained that the ESPN clip didn’t provide a good view of the amazing feat. So we went searching on YouTube for another vantage point and found a poor quality clip of the play, but because it provided the best, overhead view of something,which I told the kids is very rare, we thought it was awesome. (The Red Sox web site, we found later, has the same video, but I couldn’t embed that video here.)

I’ve played this clip multiple times for the kids. It still makes me smile.

It’s been a long school spring vacation.

On Monday, The Spouse and I woke the three apples of our eyes up at the hideous hour of 3:45 a.m. in order to celebrate Patriots Day in Massachusetts. We packed everyone up and drove to the Lexington Green, the site of the Revolutionary War’s first exchange of musket fire. We thought we’d gotten there early enough to snag a good spot where we could get an unobstructed view of the green, but alas, we didn’t. We WERE able to see the colonists gather, the Sam Adams and Paul Revere impersonators dash away with a trunk of treasonous rebel papers and the British soldiers arrive and point their muskets. We heard the shots and muffled shouts, saw the cloud of smoke but didn’t see the actual skirmish. This greatly disappointed the children, especially the boys who bitterly said, “That wasn’t worth it!”  The disappointment continued later that morning when we watched the Boston Marathon on TV, rooted hard for the American runners, only to see them both wind up in a disappointing third place. I can’t remember what else happened that day as I was exhausted.

On Tuesday, the kids played outside together and bickered, then bickered some more. I think a neighbor kid (or kids) was over at our house at one point.  The Girl went to see the Hannah Montana movie with my sister-in-law that night, while The Spouse took the boys to see Monsters vs. Aliens and I logged some solid work time, alone.

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Item #1: Bo the “Crazy” White House Pup

Reading the quotes from Michelle Obama saying that her family’s new dog Bo is “kind of crazy,” likes to chew on people’s feet and is up late at night loudly playing with his doggie toys (and interrupting people’s sleep) hasn’t exactly sent me hurrying to go and purchase a dog for my own Picket Fence Post family as we’ve been contemplating since our 18-year-old cat died in December.

While I watched the Obamas be taken for a walk by Bo on the White House lawn on the day they officially introduced him to the press corps, I (the person who’d most likely wind up doing most of the canine care) made a mental note: No big dogs.

Item #2: Mother’s Day Polls on Parent Dish

The folks at AOL’s Parent Dish are trying to muster up some Mother’s Day buzz by asking readers to participate in a series of polls, including which female celeb would you be comfortable leaving your kids with, reality TV moms’ show do you want to be canceled and what you’re doing for Mother’s Day?

Speaking of which, if you were making a wish that could actually be fulfilled, for what would you wish for Mother’s Day? Be honest now. Would love to hear your heartfelt desires. I know if it were up to one of my good friends — who shall remain nameless in this space — it would be for Mother’s Day to be abolished.

Item #3: “Knock it off or I’ll leave you two on the side of the road!”

Okay, so I have no idea what the New York mother actually said to her 10- and 12-year-old daughters when, after they wouldn’t stop bickering, she ordered them out the car, three miles away from home in a shopping plaza area, and drove away. Reminded me of a scene from Desperate Housewiveswith Lynette Scavo.

According to news reports, the 12-year-old chased the car and was allowed back inside while the 10-year-old was helped by a stranger who called the police. The mom, a partner in a law firm, was arrested and charged with child endangerment, the New York Times reported. Clearly this woman was having an extremely difficult time and took an unwise, ill-advised measure, but I feel like I need more information about this before pointing a judgmental finger, like whether she was planning on returning after a certain period of time, etc.

But at least the next time my three kids start fighting in the car (as they did today during a long car ride) I can tell them that a mom really DID leave her arguing children roadside.

Image credit: Associated Press/Ron Edmonds via the Huffington Post.

HBO’s In Treatment is an addiction. Served in half-hour nuggets, it follows five patients who are in therapy, including the therapist himself who sees another therapist on Friday evenings after a long week of listening to other people’s problems. Each week, viewers see the patient’s sessions. On paper, it seems like it would be boring, just watching people sit in Dr. Paul Weston’s (the fantastic Gabriel Byrne) home-based office talking, occasionally getting up and walking around the room. But it’s not. It’s captivating and heart breaking at the same time.

In particular, I’ve been moved by the sessions with an 11-year-old boy named Oliver (Aaron Shaw), whose parents are divorcing and his father has started seeing Oliver’s former twentysomething teacher. Oliver told Weston in private that he has been getting teased at school — called “Piggy” — and can’t sleep lately, but he doesn’t want to bother his parents with any of his issues because he’s afraid he’ll just cause them to fight some more. His parents argue over every detail of Olivers life, from his homework to what he eats, which, of course, leads to making him feel like the end of the marriage is all his fault.

Meanwhile, Weston is freshly divorced and has left behind his two children, including his grade school aged son, in Maryland while he practices therapy in New York City. There are frequently parallels between the disintegration of Oliver’s family and the dismantling of Weston’s family, but it’s the low-keyed performance of Shaw that drives home the fact that in a divorce, children are the collateral damage.

We’ve yet to see the real impact of the Weston divorce on his children — his son and his teenaged daughter — who only see their dad on the weekends. But I’m sure that it’s only a matter of time before it’s dissected as well.

(Warning, the video below contains adult language.)

I spend a fair amount of time on this blog complaining about things my three kids’ schools ask parents to do. I whine, I detail, I verbally thrash about, but rarely do I hear from an actual molder of these young minds: An elementary school teacher. This particular blog entry retifies the situation.

After reading 32 Third Graders and One Class Bunny: Life Lessons From Teaching by Phillip Done – a new, highly entertaining book by a California third grade teacher about one school year – I came away with insight and perspective on what dealing with a roomful of young kids is like on the educator’s end of things. Done was kind enough to field some questions from me about his book as well as on wacky parental behavior:

Meredith O’Brien, Picket Fence Post: In your book, you paint a portrait of life as a third grade teacher throughout the school year. One of the chapters that horrified me as a parent of three school-aged children — and also made me laugh out loud — was the one on “Sharing” where you wrote that your students provide you and their classmates with way too much information about their families. Kids related tidbits like a father being made to sleep on the sofa, a mother crying each time she watched Baywatch and a girl who said her mom “went off the pill, and now I am going to have a baby brother.” You warn, “Kids share everything.” How do you react to these ultra-personal stories the students tell and how much does what you hear affect your impression of the children’s families?

Phillip Done, author of 32 Third Graders and One Class Bunny: I just listen and nod, just like I would if they’re sharing a trophy or a turtle. And when they’re done, I say, “Thank you for sharing.” It’s all part of the job. I do tell parents at Back to School Night, “Just believe half of what you hear about me, and I’ll believe half of what I hear about you.” They laugh. But I still don’t think they really realize how much I know about them.

O’Brien: In one chapter you published letters you wish you’d been able to send to students’ parents. One was addressed to “Mr. Permissive” and said: “You’re shocked at your son’s language at school? Your son watches MTV all day long. He has every rap song memorized. He has seen more R-rated movies than I have. Please turn off the television.”

In another fictitious letter to “Mr. Pusher,” you wrote, “Please don’t be upset about your son’s B+ in math. No, this will not hurt his chances of getting into Stanford. No, he does not need a private math tutor now. And by the way, does he really need to take tennis and piano and swimming and karate and violin and polo lessons?”

Are parents really that clueless about what’s going on in their children’s lives? Do they put on blinders that detach them from reality? Have parents always been this way or are they getting more clueless?

Done: First let me say that for the most part, parents are great. They help with homework, drive on field trips, and send in birthday treats. Most know what’s going on in their children’s lives and try their best to help their children succeed in school. I’ve never met a parent who doesn’t want the best for his or her child. Once in a while, you do get a “doozy” of a parent, though. This too goes with the territory. Recently I had a parent pull me out of class during the middle of a math lesson. I thought there was an emergency so I left the kids and went outside. She wanted to talk about her child’s missing jacket. I had twenty students waiting for me and she wanted to discuss her child’s missing jacket. So, I guess you could say that was pretty clueless. But again, this is rare. Most parents are wonderful. You can’t do this job without parental support.

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