Silicon Valley Moms Blog

Stop Me Before I Volunteer Again

The school year is over.  I am done volunteering, and I don't know what to do with all my free time.  After being a Room Mom, An Art Teacher, A t-shirt designer, a committee member (more times over than I would like to admit), a chair of a Fundraiser and maybe one other art thing project that I may have chaired, and that does not count the countless other things I did at school  (or that I care to admit I did).  Something happened last summer that turned me into a rabid-foaming-at-the mouth parent that raised her hand and said, "Pick Me! Pick Me I will do it.."  I was not always that woman, really I was not.  Not too long ago I was the parent that sat back, made snide comments and rolled my eyes at the other moms that were schlepping hot dogs and craft supplies back and forth across campus.  I had never volunteered to do anything at school....no really nothing.  I liked to throw the "I own my own company" around....even if no one cared, I had not volunteered....do pay attention to this factoid, it comes up later.

Sprained Ankle = Amusing weekend, for my family

What started out as a little-redecorating and switching carpets in my home quickly took a turn for the worse.  When I get in that "mode" just stay out of the way, I literally float from one room to another, stealing from Peter and giving to....well I don't know who, but it is a bit of a whirlwind of change.  After stopping in the family room for one more possible switch out of a plant on the table I decided my large palm (15 pounds maybe) needed watering.....I started carrying it to the backyard.  I had my son open the door, he was not paying attention and did not open it all the way....so I tried to hop (yes I said hop) and push the door open.  I ended up on the back porch, face first in the palm tree, broken pot, swollen sprained left ankle and skin rubbed off right shin.

Luckily my parents were with me as I lay on the ground screaming, swearing, I mean yelling at myself.  I knew the ankle was sprained, I spent the better half of high school (and some of college) on crutches.  I have bad ankles and I sprained both of them doing; soccer, softball,tripping, running,walking even....was/is pretty clumsy.  My husband showed after the fall, he was home from week 3 of what seemed to be a non-stop business trip.  He was home on the weekends but almost every day of the past 3 weeks he has spent on the road.  After scooping me up and taking me to Emergency Room his sense of humor kicked into high gear:

"So Mrs. Lentzner can I find out if you have any medical conditions we should know about?" Emergency Nurse asked me.

"Does uncoordinated count?"quips Husband (laughing at own joke) , as he takes a picture

that he promptly posted to Facebook....thanks honey.

Some Parents are Crazy Competitive

My childhood was good, it was a happy one.  I was brought up with two parents that were loving.  They  volunteered in my school and all my sports activities.  They gave my sister everything we ever wanted.....except for that one time I wanted leather Nike's in the 5th grade, but I digress.  I am not saying that parts were not hard, but I enjoyed school, I enjoyed sports.  I have no need to relive my childhood through my kids. 

I think I am wise enough to know that some things that happened in my childhood were bad - but they are mine and I own them.  I know that my children may make the same mistakes, I need to let them live their lives with my guidance, direction and love.  I can't always protect my children from bullies, bad friends or bad parents.  Some lessons they will have to learn on their own.  

My son is 9.5 going on "I know you are but what am I?"

Not sure if I had an epiphany late Saturday night or I was just so tired from filling eggs with candy that I was hallucinating and totally emotional.  My husband I went overboard, we literally filled over a hundred eggs with jelly beans (that if I may mention no one has eaten since Easter day) Saturday night. We then laughed hysterically as we hid them all over the house, only to have to pry a few out of one of our dogs jaws. In our defense we were watching Comedy Central and laughing our asses off.  Anyway, as I went to tuck my children in and give them a last kiss good night I stopped at my son's bed.  At all of 9 1/2 I started to reflect on him and how big he was.  I am not bragging, but my son is wiser in years by his incredible knowledge of Math & Science, love of reading and I am pretty sure a photographic memory.  We have had more conversations in the last year that ended with me saying;

 "Um......that might be true, let me go check on the Internet."  Only to find that he was correct.

So, as I sat there covering him with his blanket, and making sure he was warm, I stroked his hair and reminisced a little about the Easter's of years before.  I envisioned him in his one piece suit, crying over broken Easter eggs and him running in one piece Jammie's around our home looking for eggs.  I brushed his hair back and got a bit teary at how old he was getting (I know I mentioned this already - work with me), at how I still treasured his hugs and kisses and he (I am so thankful) still wanted to be near me.  I was not the dreaded "Annoying Mother on a Field Trip", and he did not cringe when I picked him up from school.  As lucky as I felt, I knew from conversations (and a few eye rolls and sarcastic remarks) that the end of innocence was soon coming.  As I got into bed that night I was a bit weepy, little did I know my self-fulfilling prophecy would be very soon.

The Early Morning Biopsy

As I sit here and type this blog post I am thinking of what I will be doing tomorrow morning.  After dropping my children at school I will making my bi-annual trip to UCSF for yet another biopsy.  Just typing the word gives me the chills.  I am thankful tomorrow I will be sort of sedated and not quite as nervous.  Going on biopsy number three on my thyroid I am oddly relaxed tonight.  Having a surgeon shove an 8 inch needle (that is about an inch thick) into my thyroid (err neck if you are wondering where it is) every six months is not fun.  The sheer weight of the entire event usually sends shivers down my spine and a wave of nausea through my stomach.  I have tried to stay calm, yet I have tossed and turned, tried to stay up all night, and tried all tactics to make the event less stressful, is an understatement.

Yet, tonight I am oddly calm, no nervous stomach, no shaking hands - I am at peace with tomorrow - it sort of sounds morbid.  As if I am in the know, or I know what the possible outcome will be.  The last two biopsy's have thankfully been negative, or not enough tissue to get a positive reading.  Not to say I have not shed a few tears tonight, said a few prayers to God and had a few glasses of wine (I know that sleepy and slightly hungover may help with tomorrow's activities) to help numb the pain.  Such is my life - and from what I have been told - may be the way I spend the rest of my life.

Do I know You? Did we Meet at Blogher?

If you have been following the blog/twitter world you would know that Blogher this year has sold out. Record time - it is sold out, not to say that some tickets may show up later in some giveaways...but for now they are out.  I am at a bit of a crossroads regarding this.  The way I remember Blogher from last year is this; have you ever had to introduce yourself to someone over and over again?  You know the saying, you never get a second chance to make a first impression.... I say sometimes you do.  

What if the person never remembers you and you have to continue to introduce yourself once again?  Sort of like Ground Hog Day, except you remember meeting them?  It gets worse is if you remember her or him and they do not have any recollection or meeting you.  I swear this does not happen often, but it does happen on occasion and it bugs the crap out of me.  Imagine seeing someones who's blog you read all the time, and you comment and they email ya back - a little repertoire if you will.  You go up to them at a um, conference and they blow you off.....you (me) are apparently more witty in comment section than in person.

Fourth Grade - Being Popular Matters

I have been toying with this topic for awhile.  A few weeks ago my son, who is in fourth grade, asked me what being popular meant.  I just blurted out, "Do you have friends?"  He said, "yes", I then said, "Then you are popular.  It does not matter if you have 2 friends or 200 friends - don't worry about it."  I am not sure I answered his question correctly, but how could I define what it meant to be popular or (gulp) not popular to my son?  To be or not to be Popular - that is a whole lot of stuff I don't really want to talk to him about, not yet anyways. I have been on both sides of that fence.  In fact if I recall, fourth grade really was when I started to figure things out.

At the same time a number of girls in my son's class are having a few little problems and they have to keep working through it.  Well, I do not think it is that big of a deal, but I (unlike one of the girl's Moms, who is a friend) remember fourth grade and I remember it vividly.  Problems this year - pishaw! 

The Politics of Children In School

When I started this post I was going to write about a real situation that happened with me and the good ol' PTA.  I had it all ready to post and I almost published it...then I thought about it.  The thing is this blog is, um it is forever, it is not going away.  Someone does a search on my name (their possible future in-law) and this brutally-honest and maybe probably snarky post shows up.It is a little bit too raw, too honest - too close to heart.  I realized that though my side of the story may be honest, and it may be the  truth (funny to boot) I don't know the other side.  I do not want to flame someone who did not deserve it.  So, I switched gears and decided to go with what I learned in the 5 short years I have had a child in grammar school:

1. Do as I Do - My Children Are Watching

This is hard to do, as we are all human, but I learned the hard way.  Not everyone likes me, as I do not like everyone - yet my children make their own friends.  A woman at school that made it clear she did not like me - her son makes my daughter do crazy things, she idolizes him.  From what I can see, he is a great kid.  I may not agree or get along with his Mom, but my daughter.......she gets her son.  I am learning to accept her for what she is and look at her in a different light. We are not our children, they are themselves

What Might Have Been

I love my family - my children, my husband, my dogs.  They even fall in that order of who I am most thankful for.  My husband and I joke about loving each other more, or who loves each other best (as adults go that is) truth be told we love our kids the most.  Till you have had children you really don't understand the "most" one up, you just don't.

When friends or relatives confide in me that they are pregnant with their first I smile, I nod and I hug them, I am so excited for them.  I am the first with a positive word and to send a gift.  I am so happy to share in their joy, yet I realize as the wiser elder that they have no idea what they are in store for.  I do not mean the back-talking, the exhausting, the crying sleepless nights, no I do not mean that.  I mean the unconditional love as new parents they will have for their child.  They will love this wonderful creature more than they can imagine.  I nod my head, I smile and I think, "they have no idea" for no one knows the pure love they will feel until they have held their own child in their arms.

Yet, I wonder how others deal with "the one that never was", the child they never had.  The one they wanted, or he/she wanted, or considered............the last one.  Where does that child fit into the equation?  What happens when life or medicine gets in the way of your dream?  What do you do then?  How do you deal with that?

Right or Happy?

I am not a big talk show fan.....not that there is anything wrong with that.  I am just not home when they are on, and I was a HUGE fan at one time.  Being a mom that stayed home during my son's early years I often turned to the TV when I had a quiet moment.  It was my little guilty pleasure in a long day that involved whining, crying diapers and tantrums.  I treasured my "me time."  During nap time for years, or even when I ran my business out of my studio (garage) I was glued to the TV at certain times of the day:

• Oprah was my voice of reason
• Rosie and then Ellen were my humor
• Dr. Phil gave me a little dysfunctional family drama

Not so proud of the hundreds of hours I probably wasted watching TV, but hey I needed an outlet and it was before there were so many entertaining blogs to read.  It was also something else to discuss at the dreaded play dates at the park...I could only discuss my children's bowel movements so many times!

So, who knew after all those years my TV watching would come into play.  I was able to use my TV degree on my friends....well almost, I tried anyways: