Dear Kid,

I officially declare the Thanksgiving Games open. You can tell I’m serious because I cleaned off the entire kitchen island so I can work—only to discover I don’t have all the ingredients I need so guess where I’m going after the gym?

I’ve been thinking about the difficulty of coming home after having been on one’s own for a few months. It’s ridiculously easy in some ways. This is home. You know where your room is, you don’t have any problem helping yourself to something from the refrigerator, you know where you fit.

But in some ways it’s an odd adjustment. After months of no one asking when you’ll be home or where you’re going, you parents insist on knowing your plans. After not having had to participate in chores unless you chose to there is now a schedule and a pattern you’re expected to adhere to. After months of being a “college kid” being home can make you feel like you’ve taken a giant step back to high school days (without the early morning bus ride.)

A friend of mine shared this shirt with me. After I had a good giggle, I realized it reflects this push-me-pull-you (extra points if you get the reference) feeling. You want to be home and comfortable and surrounded by people and puppies who love you, but you’re not sure you’re ready to give up the freedom and self-reliance that comes with being part of the pack on a daily basis.

Coming home means being immersed again in all the love and comfort of home—and all the rules of home.

That’s a good thing (just in case you weren’t sure).

Can’t wait to see you in a few days!

Love, Mom

The Push-Me-Pull-You is from Doctor Doolittle

Dear Kid,

“Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder.” For example, I happen to think that Booker is adorable but not everyone might agree with me. Wait…everyone thinks Booker is adorable. Bad example.

How about this? I love the color purple. There are probably some poor, misguided people in the world who don’t adore purple. All we can do is feel sorry for them, repeat that Beauty is the Eye of the Beholder, and hope that they go to the eye doctor soon to get their Beauty Appreciation Levels checked.

(Isn’t it uncomfortable to have Beauty in your eye when you’re wearing contacts? Never mind. Moving on.)

The point is that intelligent people can have different views about what is or is not attractive. The great news is you don’t have to look through their eyes (also, presumably uncomfortable). And while intelligent people can disagree, most people agree that these Five Things Can Make Even a Stunner Seem Pretty Unattractive.

Smoking. Back in the seriously olden days, cigarette ads (see? Olden days when there were such things as cigarette ads) portrayed smoking as cool. Movies still sometimes do (but then again, movies also show scary creatures with too many teeth eating the universe, so not sure the cinema is a good source of reality). There is very little that is even mildly attractive about someone huffing and puffing and squinting when the smoke gets in their eyes and having nicotine stains and smelling like stale smoke and turning their lungs black. Ew.

Bad manners. I’m not talking about forgetting to hold the door open occasionally or forgetting to text your grandmother thank you for the latest care package. (HINT!) I’m talking about chewing with your mouth open or stuffing an entire piece of pizza into your face at once. Or—never mind. I can’t even bring myself to illustrate the myriad of ways people can be disgusting and make you say to yourself, “never mind, I’ll pass.”

Potty mouth. Even the best of us are likely to say something like “Son of a SQUID” when we hammer our thumb instead of a nail or “daaaaaaammmmn” when the Bengals throw a last minute TD to tie the score and send the game into overtime (and then go on to lose which really, do people NOT get the point that you should trust the kicker?). But when every other word is the something that would raise an eyebrow among hardened sailors, it’s just not reasonable anymore. Swearing can get in the way of anything resembling a conversation. Who needs it?

Inappropriate behavior. Again, not talking about the little things like bumping into someone taking their first sip of coffee at Starbucks. I’m not even talking about the big things like accidentally throwing a bottle in the garbage rather than into the recycling bin. I’m talking about the really bad stuff like inappropriate touching or talking to someone in a way that just makes them feel uncomfortable. No one in the world has ever said, “Oh, look at that stud. He’s making someone feel bad. I so hope he’ll ask me out.”

Inappropriate clothing. I get that there are different standard of dress for going to an 8am college class than for having tea with the Queen. But there are standards nonetheless. Clothing is meant to enhance a person’s appearance (and protect them from frostbite while not getting in the way while they flee from a pursuing wooly mammoth). When someone wears clothes 2 sizes too small (extra points if you get the reference) and people stare in horror and whisper, “how is it possible she looked in the mirror this morning and thought “dang, I look good!”?” the standard has been missed. Or when someone is wearing a muscle T-Shirt (without the muscles) and you think to yourself “TMI—I did NOT need to know the shape of the mole on his back,” they have missed the standard. Very few people will be saying, “Gotta get me some of that!”

Not all of us are ANTM (America’s Next Top Model) candidates. Most of us will not stop traffic with our stunning good looks (except maybe in Rome where traffic is a perpetual mess). Very few of us will be remembered centuries from now with a sigh and “ahhhhh, what a beauty.” On the other hand, none of us need to be the poster child for What Not to Do.

Hope your cold is getting better, kiddo.

Love, Mom

The Grinch was born with a heart two sizes too small.

Dear Kid,

Banks like to hold on to money. I get that. So when you want to take money out, banks get fairly insistent that you provide 17 kinds of ID showing who you are, when you were born, what your favorite color is, why your hair is currently ½ shade lighter than your passport photo, and write an essay on being kind to small creatures. Then reluctantly they might part with their cash. Which is really your cash.

On the other hand, when it comes to putting money into the bank, they don’t much care who you are or why you are there that day. They don’t even care if you’re putting money into your own account. If you have something resembling cash, checks, or money orders (I have it on good authority they don’t accept goats), they’ll accept your deposit. And possibly even give you a lollipop.

Which is why, O Best Beloved, I have been sooooo frustrated (that’s the only word I can come up with at the moment that won’t get this blog banned in several countries) as I try to pay my bills.

I am trying to PAY my bills. No arguments. No hassles. No “can’t you please cut the bill in half because my dog ate my homework.” No nonsense. Just plain old please-take-my-money.

In the seriously olden days, one would simply walk over to the store, hand over a goat, and have your cell phone bill marked “paid.” In the less ancient but still olden days, one would sit down at the kitchen table, heave a big sigh, write checks, and send payments by snail mail. The sigh was very important to get into the spirit of things.

In modern times, we’re supposed to be able to push a few buttons on the computer—voila, funds transferred, bills paid, no need to think about it again until next month (or ever if you’ve set up auto payment). Should be easy, right?

Oh, how wrong thou art.

Our saga begins earlier in the week when I tried to set up autopayment for Fred the Car. I had several spare minutes, the account number from the bill I’d received, and the checkbook. I was Prepared. I thought.

I shall spare you the details because I am a Kind and Loving Parent. The short version is Chase Bank (who handles the financing for Subaru leases—yes, I’m naming names) insisted I had an on-line account, hung up on me twice as I tried to get it reset, texted a sign in key code to my phone that didn’t have enough digits, had to talk me through their account set up process (have I mentioned I am not the dumbest person on the planet? There is no way anyone could follow the on line directions (which included having to know to do step three before step one)), and ended with me sitting down at the kitchen table, heaving a VERY heavy sigh and writing them a check. It was easier to refinance our mortgage.

Then there was The Difficulty with Verizon (seriously naming names today). Despite them never having sent me a bill (harder to pay when you don’t know how much, when it’s due, or who to pay!), we were Down to the Wire and had to pay your phone bill or you would be sans communication device. No prob. Happy to pay.

Verizon had other ideas. There was no way to set up an account on line. (Or if there was I couldn’t find it. Have I mentioned I design websites? What IS it with these people?) So I clicked the little box that said click here if you want to talk to us. Love talking. A few minutes later I got a call on my non-Verizon phone. So far so good. After insisting that I wanted to talk to a live person I was finally connected to a very nice human who asked for my home Verizon phone number. Huh? I don’t have a home Verizon phone. Well, then she’d have to connect me to the wireless support center. (Remember, they called me.)

I was able to pay your bill (you’re welcome) without resorting to violence or check-writing. I did use some colorful language (but only in my head so as not to upset anyone).

There should probably be a college course called “How to Deal with Crazy Customer Service Policies and Other Survival Techniques for the Modern World.”

Here’s a crazy idea for the business world: Let’s put ‘customer’ and ‘service’ back into the concept of customer service. Probably too radical an idea.

Heavy sigh.

You better REALLY enjoy your phone this week.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

A good while back, I wrote an article for e-zine called Ten Rules for Teens. This is my adaptation to Ten Rules for College Kids.

Rule 1. Life is too short to hang out with people you don’t like. College is a time for meeting new people and finding new friends. No need to be rude, but no need to continue a “friendship” that isn’t working for you any more. Get involved and find activities and people you enjoy.

Rule 2. There is always a nice way to do something hard. That doesn’t mean it will be easy for anyone involved, but you can look back and feel good about how you handled the situation.

Rule 3. If it is to be done, best done soon. Shakespeare said it better, but the point is, if you are going to break up with him/her, do it sooner rather than waiting. (This is not a bad rule for writing papers, doing research, and drafting blogs. Get moving. Don’t wait to start.)

Rule 4. Take care of yourself. You are the only you we have and we think you are very special. Don’t smoke, don’t ride in a car without a seatbelt, don’t drink and drive and don’t drive with anyone who’s been drinking, don’t assume you are invincible or invisible. Eat well, drink lots of water (I may have mentioned that), and get a reasonable night’s sleep.

Rule 5. Nothing you put on the internet is ever truly gone. Facebook is part of the internet. So is Twitter, texting, and YouTube. Even with sites that promise that their content disappears (Snapchat, OKHello, etc.) you cannot be sure it’s really gone. If you don’t want your grandmother, your future employer, your future spouse, and three Supreme Court Justices to see it, don’t put it in cyberspace.

Rule 6. Nothing electronic IS your life. This includes tv, social media, email, cell phones, iPod, and gaming systems. Being deprived of any of these for any length of time will not stop major bodily functions or kill your social life. There are scientific tests proving this. Put the electronics away when you are in class (duh) and when you’re studying. You really can’t multitask and do well at both things. There really are scientific tests proving this.

Rule 7. Be nice to your mother every now and then even if she doesn’t deserve it. Send a text, drop a tweet, post a facebook message. Go crazy and dial the phone.

Rule 8. This too shall pass. Take a deep breath. If possible, take a nap.

Rule 9. Commercials, print ads, and videos are not reality. No one in real life spends nine hours in hair and makeup or has the advantage of a full time airbrush. Strive to be the best you can be, but don’t aim for something unrealistic. What’s inside you is much more important than your haircut or your clothing. Sooner or later your peers will figure this out too.

Rule 10. You are the perfect you. And I love you.

Love, Mom

If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well
It were done quickly.

–Macbeth

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Dear Kid,

“I can’t change that.”

We were discussing a Third Person and how the Third Person reacted to certain behaviors of the Second Person (you may assume that I am the First Person in this story). In a nutshell (or other teeny tiny container if you prefer), the Second Person was not really happy with the reactions of the Third Person. I suggested perhaps the Second Person recognize that his (or her) actions were the cause.

The Second Person did not want to even contemplate this possibility. After I gently suggested (and by “gently suggested” I mean “bashed over the head verbally”) that the Second Person was causing these behaviors, Second Person said, “Well, I can’t change that” in the most dismissive tone I’d heard in a long time.

Um, yes, you really can. You may choose not to, but that’s different. It would mean doing things differently, recognizing that not everything you’ve done in the past is perfect, and that – just perhaps – you are not the center of the universe.

That’s what I wanted to say. In an act of Surprising Restraint I said absolutely nothing. Had you been there, you might have noticed an eyelash twitch in a slightly unnatural way or a microscopic lift of an eyebrow indicating I thought Second Person was (how do I put this?) wrong. Fortunately for me, Second Person is not nearly adept at reading my facial expressions as you are and just plowed on through the conversation.

For the record, you are not related to either the Second or Third Person in this story.

Change is inevitable – except from a vending machine.  ~Robert C. Gallagher

Some people say we can do anything we put our mind to. To those people I say, “Really? Anything? How are you at controlling the weather?” Then those people prove that one of the things they can do is karate and I end up in a little pile on the ground.

In fact, there are things we can’t do. I can’t reach stuff on high shelves without climbing on a chair or stepstool (and possibly falling off); my shortness of stature makes it a physical impossibility. I can’t be 18 again. (I was once, believe it or not). But the list of things we truly CAN’T do is pretty darn short (yeah, yeah, height joke, I get it). Generally, when we say “I can’t” we mean “I don’t want to” or “That would be hard” or “My mother would kill me!” (listen to that voice) or “I’d have to take the time to learn something new.”

He who rejects change is the architect of decay.  The only human institution which rejects progress is the cemetery.  ~Harold Wilson

In the Junior High Band Room there is a fabulous poster that starts with the word “CAN’T” in big letters at the top. Each row shows the letters morphing until the bottom row says “CAN TO”. I love that poster.

Change is not always better, but better always involves change. — Grandpa Hank

Change is not always better, but better always involves change (yes, it is worth repeating). It is not possible for things to get better and stay the same simultaneously.

Love, Mom

P. S.

In case you didn’t figure out the image, it’s a Yes, You Can. (I am hilarious.)

Dear Kid,

I need to borrow this space to yell at a parent. By “yell” I mean “send words of wisdom” and by “a parent” I mean (really and truly) someone you don’t know who I follow on FB for reasons I am beginning to question.

This particular parent posts a fairly even mix of business and personal/family updates on social media. As I may have mentioned two or three hundred zillion times, once it’s on the internet, it’s there forever. Like cockroaches and Twinkies. As I believe I also may have mentioned more than once, how you present yourself is how people will think of you. As I am mentioning now, this individual consistently creates posts and updates guaranteed to cause nausea in the ranks of English teachers across the nation.

Misspellings, missing grammar, and less than a passing nod to general rules of communication are guaranteed to dis-impress anyone reading (no matter how quickly she tries to skim your post).

Today, this particular parent was lamenting the first day of school for the first born and talking about the pride he (yes, it’s a he) felt. I wanted to scream “Bet your daughter will be more proud of you if you learn how to spell and perhaps even take a nanosecond to proof your writing before sending it out for the entire universe see.” I didn’t. Scream, I mean. Aren’t you proud of me?

Just to be clear, I understand people make mistakes in grammar and spelling. I understand that people are typing quickly on Facebook and all too often we hit send and then proofread rather than vice versa. But this is Extreme Grammar-itis. This is stuff to make educators wish for the ability to recall a high school diploma that was (obviously) handed out in error. From a guy who is trying to inspire people to follow him.

I can’t even give you an example because every time I try to copy and paste something my computer locks up in horror. And when I try to retype examples my fingers start laughing too hard to type. Didn’t know fingers could laugh, did you?

Speaking of hor-ren-dous grammar mistakes, way too many of my lovely resume clients are using the word ‘lead’ (as in the stuff in paint) where they clearly mean ‘led’ (as in the past tense of to lead). One even had the temerity to try to gently correct me after I’d fixed it for her.

I am not suggesting that Facebook is a place that should only accept the most formal of English. Nor am I talking about occasionally typing “nad” when you mean “and”. Or even about using “ur” for “your” when you’re in a rush (or not sure whether you mean your or you’re).

But I believe there ought to be a minimum standard as well as a general awareness of what it means when that red squiggly line shows up under a word.

Here’s to exceeding the minimum.

Love, Mom