over-anxious parent

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Waiting Room Woolgathering

I am in a waiting room at the car place while my vehicle undergoes repairs for yet another recall. In fact, this is a re-recall because I already had this particular issue addressed a couple of years ago. Or, not addressed, apparently.

There is one other woman-presenting person in the waiting room with me. She just consented to a $160 tire alignment. I am 95% sure that the service member who came to speak with her referred to her as Suzanne, and the service person who checked me in already told me my car’s alignment failed. What are the chances that two Suzannes would both have failed tire alignments at the exact same time?!

It’s been kind of a rough start to the school year. Or maybe not rough so much as nonstop busy? None of it is BAD stuff; it’s all stuff that we’ve done or chosen on purpose. Well, except for the leak in our pool. No one wants that. I think it’s like this every year, and I simply block out the memory of the frenetic bustle of it all during the relative calm of the summer months. Annual or not, I currently feel like I’ve jumped into the middle of an ice-cold lake and I’m not that strong a swimmer.  

What I really want to be doing is spending my days walking, writing, and hanging out with my cat. That sounds like my ideal level of interpersonal interaction right about now.

Ignore the doorbell and the dishes and the laundry and the fact that you need to pick up your kid and the neighbor’s children from school and lie down with meeeeeeeeeee…

In practice, I’ve been spending an average of two hours a day in a school gymnasium, making conversation with other parents, cheering for our kids, and trying to stave off butt and back pain from the relentless discomfort of the bleachers. (This little purchase has helped quite a bit with the latter.) Or rushing to/waiting around my house to discuss various home maintenance and repair and improvement projects with a parade of vendors. Or scrolling aimlessly on my phone in an attempt to stay awake while my daughter finishes her homework (she hasn’t gone to bed before eleven a single time this school year). Or driving to or from school and/or sporting events. Or working on a volunteer project, which involves both in-person meetings and a group chat. I remain terrified of group chats.

This is all, like, totally normal parent and life stuff and yet I am feeling overwhelmed and overextended and wholly unsuited to any of it.

Let’s just hope this is all an ADJUSTMENT period, to which I will ADJUST. My kiddo, by the way – who is the one DOING THE SPORTS AND HOMEWORK which is quite a bit more strenuous than observing those things – seems to be handling everything with much more grace and much less whining than I am.

On the plus side, I have not cooked a single meal all week. On the minus side, I did buy ingredients to make a giant salad several days ago and I am pretty sure they are all gradually rotting into inedibility in my fridge.

There are five of us in the waiting room now. One of the staff members has chosen this very moment to vacuum the floor of the waiting room. Why now, buddy? It’s not like someone just spilled a bag of chip crumbs or anything. The floor looks perfectly clean. Is this a conscientious objection to the inanity of Jenna & Sheinelle, which I didn’t know was a show? Is it passive aggressive proof to his manager that he is Doing His Job? Puzzling.

Those of you with better memories and/or experience with middle school and high school kids, is this just… How Things Are? Carla goes to school, goes to sports, scarfs a quick and less-nutritionally-balanced-than-I’d-prefer dinner, immerses herself in homework, goes to bed, repeat. There is literally no time to do anything else. She doesn’t have a spare ten minutes to tidy her room or practice her instrument or go visit the neighbor dogs. The only time we talk is in the car or over a hasty meal of fast-food nuggets. We’ve been sacrificing a traditional breakfast in favor of a few more minutes of sleep, and she’s been eating ants on a log or drinking a smoothie in the car on the way to school. Our only “non productive” time is the five minutes of cat videos we watch together every morning, and the ten minutes I spend reading to her in bed every night.

(By the way, I am currently reading her this book, which I remember liking when I was a kid, although not enough to read any of the other books in the series. But I am finding it boring and kind of dumb???)

My husband thinks that it was like this for him when he was in school. My mom thinks it was like this for me when I was in school. But I have no recollection of doing three to five hours of schoolwork every night. Maybe in college, but even then, only when I had a paper due the next day. Three to five hours of schoolwork seems BONKERS, let alone doing it on top of two to three hours of Sports.

I keep spiraling about Carla’s commitments. The spiral starts with: This is too much! This school isn’t right for Carla! Something must be wrong, either with the teachers or with Carla’s ability to do the work! Should I email the teachers? The principal? Should I encourage Carla to email the teachers? The principal? Should I make her quit Sports?

Then eventually (sometimes with help from my much chiller husband) the spiral makes its way around to this: But Carla seems to be doing okay. She’s tired, sure, but isn’t that true of ALL teenagers, EVERYWHERE? The other parents I’ve talked to say their kids are doing similar amounts of homework, and going to bed similarly late. And none of them are pulling their kids out of school or making them quit the team or marching into the principal’s office demanding Action. And Carla really seems to enjoy Sports! She’s getting better, she seems to be making a positive contribution to the team. The physical activity is certainly good for her. As is the social interaction. She seems to be completing her homework, even if it’s late when she finishes it. Her grades are fine, so far. And her own father says that this is How It Was even back in the golden era of the nineteen-nineties.

The calm doesn’t last particularly long, though. It doesn’t help that I am also getting less sleep than I prefer, and I’m much busier than I prefer. Maybe once those things resolve (will they resolve?) I will be more zen about Carla’s level of busyness.

Speaking of being more zen: The last time I posted here, which was eons and eons ago, I mentioned my fret about feeding the sports team. THANK YOU for pointing out that doing such a thing is inadvisable. I spent the first three weeks of school not signing up, and simply taking Carla some nourishment to eat between games. She eats WRAPS now, can you believe it? Ham, tomato, and lettuce. (I wrap the tomato and lettuce in the ham, so they don’t soggify the tortilla.) (Yes, we have decided to throw caution to the wind and get back on the lettuce train.) Other parents have been signing up to provide sustenance, and I have been observing what they bring. They are not bringing dinner, they are bringing SNACKS. I can totally bring snacks for the team. That’s much less daunting than providing an entire meal. Thanks for talking me down, internet.

And there’s the service guy who checked me in. My car is done, and so is this post.

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Yet Again Overthinking My Kid’s Birthday Party

“I don’t think we need a theme this year, do we?”

So mused my husband, when he and I were discussing plans for our daughter’s thirteenth birthday party. This is one of those times when I wonder if he’s ever met me. Do we know each other? Of course we need a theme. I love a theme. A theme is a balm to my control enthusiast soul. I have no power over whether people attend a party, or like the food, or enjoy themselves, but I can fucking well ensure that the décor et al revolves around a central motif.

I think I’ve already told you that my daughter expressed enthusiasm for a 90s theme. Which I suggested because her party will involve two of the nineties-est things I can think of: roller skating and a slumber party.

(Yes, yes, I know. Once again, despite my many, many qualms about sleepovers, I have caved to my daughter’s desire for a slumber party. I have no justification for this behavior.)

My recompense is that I get to lean fully into the 90s theme.

Ambiance

I think we will go super simple with the décor, and get a complete set of party supplies. Maybe do some little 90s-themed hanging swirls.

Carla is working on a 90s playlist. I am impressed by her existing repertoire of 90s music! She already knows songs from the Spice Girls, No Doubt, The Offspring, Smash Mouth, and Alanis Morissette, and there are so many fun songs we can add to the mix.

Party Favors

Kids of Carla’s age may be, I suspect, Over It when it comes to gift bags. My preference has usually been to get a single item that we give away to each partygoer – like a book or an anklet or a beach towel. I think there’s a higher chance they will use those things, while a bunch of cheap plastic stuff will end up in the garbage or cluttering up the kids’ houses (and annoying their parents).

This year, I have allowed nostalgia to override my better judgement. Carla found these delightfully tacky boombox favor boxes, and we are going to fill them with an assortment of things I remember fondly from my childhood: mini troll dolls, Koosh balls, jelly bracelets, Warheads, and ring pops.  Carla also wanted to include these key rings, and why not.

My husband suggested getting every kid a Beanie Baby, which is a super fun idea. I let that plan fizzle when I realized I would have to get everyone the exact same Beanie Baby, or figure out which specific variety of Beanie Baby to get and instantly felt overwhelmed. Plus, the ones being sold today are different from the ones we had in the 90s… and I didn’t want to deal with finding “authentic/vintage” versions.

Food

Dinner will be pizza. Carla has requested lemon meringues, with cupcakes for people who don’t like meringues. (I found these darling on-theme cupcake wrappers and toppers.)

I do think that we’ll need some additional food. Listen. I could 100% buy a few bags of chips and some candy and popcorn and let the kids have at it. Probably that is what I will do.

But my let’s-make-things-more-complicated heart wants to – you guessed it – make things more complicated. This mainly derives from my feeling that cheese pizza is not an adequate dinner for a growing child. Did I eat cheese pizza at many a birthday party, let alone for many Friday night dinners, as a kid? Oh yes, so many times. Do I have any qualms whatsoever when my kid goes to a birthday party and the dinner is pizza? Not at all. Is the only reason I can’t say the same for many, many meals as an adult ONLY because I no longer eat plain cheese pizza and prefer pizza to include pepperoni? Very much yes.

Still. Allow me to fantasize about my ideal slumber party menu, okay? And we’ll agree that this won’t happen in real life, and I will lean in to the chips and popcorn thing.

My (fantasy) criteria are: 1) is something Carla likes, 2) includes protein, 3) probably won’t stain my couch/carpet, 4) is cute and/or fun, 5) is nut and dairy free.

Here are the things that fit those criteria:

If I didn’t feel quite as bad about over-sugaring the kids / wasn’t worried about ruining my furniture/house / had attendees who could all eat dairy, I would totally do a hot chocolate bar and some s’mores dip and maybe some sheet pan nachos.

We will also be feeding these teens breakfast. Breakfast is not my area of expertise, so my vote is for donuts. Why, yes, that does directly contradict all my high-and-mighty posturing about “cheese pizza not being good enough.” So perhaps we should make sheet pan pancakes and some scrambled eggs with a side of fruit instead.

Entertainment

While I am still thinking wistfully about the idea of a Taskmaster party, I have resigned myself to reserving that for a future date. After all, the kids will get to roller skate and then (hopefully, weather permitting) swim, and they can always watch movies. Nonetheless, I am of course stressing about how to keep these teens entertained while in my home. I would love to have a few ideas in my pocket, just in case they get bored. I think we can all agree: bored teens pose a danger to themselves and others.

Carla specifically wants to play a game called either “pass the parcel” or “saran ball game.” My understanding of this game is that we choose a variety of tiny prizes (lip balms, stickers, scrunchies, candy) and wrap each prize in a bunch of saran wrap. Then each kid has a set amount of time to free a prize without ripping the saran wrap before passing the parcel to the next kid. The big challenge, I think, will be choosing prizes that are simultaneously fun enough to keep the kids occupied, silly enough that someone who doesn’t get a prize doesn’t feel too upset, and inexpensive enough that I don’t need to resort to selling feet pictures to pay for the party. In the “pass the parcel” version of this game, or so Carla informs me, there is a Big Prize in the very center of the layers of wrapping; she does not want that, because it feels unfair. But it also seems as though there’s no guarantee that a person will get a prize during their turn anyway, so I’m not sure how “fair” the game is. In any case, it might be fun to have a couple of slightly higher-end prizes in the sticker/scrunchie mix – perhaps a World’s Smallest Care Bear or Slinky??? Or maybe a gift card to an ice cream shop or Five Below?

I also think that having a photo scavenger hunt could be potentially fun. (This is a leftover from my Taskmaster fantasizing.)  But maybe that can be a spur-of-the-moment option that I can offer if the kids are bored by everything else. Don’t worry; I will overthink it into oblivion just in case.

As I mentioned earlier, movies are a great, classic option for keeping the kids busy, too. I do tend to fret about WHICH movies they will want to watch. Carla’s friends occupy both ends of the “I’ve seen everything up and including Squid Games” and “I still mainly watch Disney movies” spectrum, so I feel a little uneasy about leaving the choice to them. Carla and I had a little chat about it, and she thinks that she can guide the options a bit, so that no one is going to be forced into watching, like, Midsommar or, I don’t know, Eyes Wide Shut.

Since I am, as stated, obsessed with a theme, I of course would vote for 90s classics. Clueless and Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead and Ace Ventura: Pet Detective. Of course, most of the 90s classics I think of as fun and harmless have aged poorly, I’m looking at you Austin Powers.

Here is the point at which you kindly, gently overlook my latest birthday party related bout of insanity, and instead tell me:

  • What are the best slumber party foods?
  • Which 90s songs MUST go on the playlist?
  • Which 90s movies MUST the teens watch?
  • What are the best slumber party games?
  • What am I forgetting, besides the undeniable fact that the teens will do whatever they want and I really have no say at all?
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Birthday Sleepover Awkwardness

Why yes I am dramatically behind in planning and/or even thinking about my child’s birthday party this year, why do you ask? 

For one thing, my husband is on call on Carla’s birthday weekend, which means we have to find a different date for the party (just… trust me. we are not doing a party on a call weekend), and I can’t figure out what that date should be. Seems like it should be obvious, or that there should be some reasonable candidates, but I am struggling. We’re up against camp and holidays and other birthday parties and vacation and no date seems workable.

For another thing, Carla has been happily discussing plans for her party for several months now, so it feels like I don’t have anything to do. When in reality, I have ALL THE THINGS to do because her saying “I want to have a water theme” doesn’t make water-themed décor magically appear in my house, nor does her making a list of kids she wants to invite equate actually inviting anyone.

Let’s start there, with the invitations, because that’s part of the delay, I think. 

Carla wants a sleepover party this year. Here’s the thing: I refuse to have more than six children in my house overnight. Why this number, I don’t know. All I know is that I can hardly deal with having one child over for a sleepover, it goes against everything in my constitution, and the thought of something like ten kids makes me hyperventilate. I know a large sleepover party is doable. One of Carla’s friends had, like, twenty girls sleep over last year. But that kid’s mom is a very different person from me, in almost every way, which instead of making “big sleepover” seem possible, makes it seem even less possible, if that makes any sense. Hell, even my own mother hosted big sleepovers with probably ten or more kids when I was in middle school. My mother was FANTASTIC at birthday parties, let me tell you.

Carla is amenable to the limit, but she would love to have a BIG PARTY with all her friends, and then have a select few stay the night after the party and I… well, I have put my foot down about this. And I’m feeling like I want to walk it back, but I also still agree with my reasons for saying no in the first place. 

This may sound like a non-sequitur, but stay with me here: We have reached an age where birthday party invite lists have begun to be… tricky. Like, I am theoretically 100% behind Carla or any child only inviting people to her birthday that she wants at her birthday. We are long past the days when you invited the entire class or – in some cases – the entire grade. And I theoretically completely understand that just because parents are friends with one another does not mean their children are also friends with one another. 

In practice, it feels so different and yucky to leave people out, especially if they are the kids of your friends. And yet: six person limit. 

My reason for not doing the big party with the smaller sleepover is related to that yucky feeling. I don’t want to leave anyone out, I don’t want anyone to feel less special or less of a friend or lesser in any way because they weren’t included in the super exclusive sleepover contingent. Carla’s argument is twofold. First, she says that other kids have big parties and then a few kids sleepover. Second, she says that she would never, ever mention to anyone that only a few kids would sleepover. My rebuttal is that kids a) aren’t great at secrets and b) can be mean and c) people always find out! 

Other people DO do this! I have picked up my kid from several birthday parties, and a couple kids remain behind to stay for a sleepover extension. This has never bothered me because I have only recently allowed Carla to sleep over anywhere. But it has bothered Carla. She always feels left out and wonders why not her. We had a good reason: she wasn’t allowed. That helped soothe the hurt feelings. Plus, she’s a very cheerful kid who gets over things pretty swiftly. But what about the other kids who may not have mean sleepover-hating moms to blame their lack of fun on, or who may be struggling with finding their crew, or whose feelings are sharper and longer lasting? 

(I have no good place to stick this point, but I want to head off any suggestions that Carla invite one or even two people over. I think I could be okay with a Big Party and one kid sleeping over after. But Carla doesn’t have a Best Friend, so that doesn’t really make sense in her situation. Plus, I think part of the allure of the Big Sleepover is the BIGNESS of it.)

We’re not doing Big Party with the Small Sleepover. We just aren’t. I mean, I suppose I could hold two events on two separate days but NO THANK YOU ONE PARTY IS ENOUGH I MEAN IT. Please, back me up here, because I can feel my resistance crumbling as I type and I know I will RUE MYSELF if I give in to the two party plan. Can a person rue herself? Even if that’s not a thing, I will.

Because I cannot and will not host two separate parties (right????? that would be dumb?????), and because I refuse to make a portion of birthday invitees feel like the B Team, I am trying to work myself up to a slightly bigger sleepover. Like… eight people??? Could I do ten? It’s always possible that we invite ten and only three show up. That would be IDEAL, honestly. But in my experience, if you plan on that kind of attrition, everyone shows up and also one kid brings her out-of-town cousin. 

Carla is not the problem here. She has narrowed her list down to five invitees, with very little pleading and negotiating. I AM THE PROBLEM. There are some kids that I would like to invite just out of… I don’t know. Mom friendship? Duty? Duty invites? That’s awful. No one wants to be at a party because the birthday girl’s MOM wants you there. I am sure the duty invitees would HATE THAT, and Carla might also hate it too, and I can see right now that if I tell her to invite A, she will ask, “If I can have an extra spot for A, why can’t I invite B instead?” which makes total sense; I refer you back to my theoretical conviction that a kid should only invite kids to her birthday party that she wants at her birthday party.  And even if I upped the guest list count to ten, there’s no guarantee that the duty invitees would make that cut, either. (Ugh ugh ugh. I need a different way to frame this than “duty invitees,” because these kids are sweet and wonderful and fun and they just aren’t in Carla’s immediate circle, that’s all there is to it.)

Listen. Pretty much no one these days is going around inviting every kid in the class/grade or even every kid of one gender in the class/grade. Carla has been invited to three birthday parties this year, that’s it. So I get it. Not everyone gets invited. That’s not how friendship works. We moms all say, “We understand.” And I know that we do. If Carla didn’t get an invitation to a specific kid’s party, I would understand. That doesn’t mean it wouldn’t sting. 

Someone’s feelings are going to get hurt. Perhaps many someones. Perhaps someone’s mom’s feelings are going to get hurt too. I don’t want to be the cause of it!

Do you see? Do you SEE why I am struggling to plan the party when I cannot figure out the guest list?????? 

Clearly I am in bit of a tizz. We’ll have to reconvene later to discuss present ideas and cake. (We have one gift for Carla: a pair of tickets to a play we think [hope] she wants to see. Nearly Twelve is exceedingly difficult to shop for!) 

Let’s look at a soft sleepy kitten to soothe the jangled nerves.