from the mixed-up files of a middle-aged mind

Saturday, 9:55 a.m. Six mid-pubescent Freshmen show up at the house in various stages of undress trying to create togas. They have just been kayaking and are due to serve a meal for some pre-prom activity for someone at 10:00. They are going to be late. "Do you need pins?" "No, I don't need any pins." I continue to observe as they continue to improvise, never having done this before. Fast forward. I see them fumbling with corsages at their own junior proms. Struggling with a new language on their missions. Looking for the right words to tell their future wives of their undying love... "Mom, I do need pins." Yeah, I knew you would. I was just waiting for you to ask. I wish I would've taken a picture of them before they tumble out of the van...dragging togas and articles of clothing as they run up to the front door of someone I don't even know. But these are good kids. I love these kids. Some of them who are not my own call me "Mom" t...

Yesterday I bought a great pair of long white gloves for my darling daughter. We are invited to a tea party tonight and we can dress up. Usually I love to dress up. But I'm having a hard time faking it today. Apparently my ability to talk the talk has run its course. I can't dress up like a princess because I really don't feel like a princess. My daughter will look great. And I'm going to really love that she looks great and that she will feel great about looking great. Although, I also know that because she is a daughter of Eve, she will be looking around her and thinking that all the other princesses look even more great than she does. And she will feel less great inside. So my today my question is this: How can I spare my daughter that horrible empty feeling you get inside when you know that whatever you are, you are not enough?

As some of you know I spend my work days searching Google. It's a great job. I still can't believe I get paid to play on the Internet. And I have learned a lot about essential subjects such as heating and refrigeration, Canola oil, incontinence and the state of New Jersey. Lately I have been working on a lot of publishing accounts and I come across some pretty skanky stuff too. Most of the time they pass the really gritty subjects to me, partly because I have fooled them into thinking I am mature but also because we don't like to scare the young and innocent. But sometimes I come across some really good stuff to know too. Which leads me to my latest discovery. Rosie the Riveter still has no time to do her hair (I can relate) and therefore has not given up her bandana. But she apparently left the factory long enough to conceive. Who knew? And now Rosie is the spokeswoman not just for factory workers, but also for all moms. In her latest book. The Motherhood Manifesto. I can...

(Warning: The following may be quite disturbing. One is alarmingly candid in the wee hours of the morning. Read at your own risk.) Damned Insomnia I (from the journal of an insomniac, March 19, 2006, 2:00 a.m.) 2 am...Well, almost. And I cannot sleep. I fell deep asleep while I was cuddling sweet Kyle to sleep, at about 9:45. Then I wake up at 11:30 and here it is, two hours and a nice dose of Benadryl later and I got nothin'! I got up did the dishes in the dark, hoping the avoidance of bright light would increase the possibilities of slumber, but to no avail. The body is exhausted, but the mind will not rest. Here's what keeping me up: Is it my fault the favorite of our four cockatiels died last night (thus two nights battling insomnia--I could tell she was on her way out but was so tired I knew I didn't have it in me to mount a death watch--so I made her as comfortable as I could and petted her and told her what a good bird she had been and what a wonderful mamma, too. ...

Is this déjà vu or a bad flashback? I feel like I'm caught in a time warp back to the 70s. The hair is the same. I think the 70s was when the term "bad hair day" originated--only it was a bad hair decade . (Here is same son when he had eyes. Note the beater car--also from the 70s--in the background. January 2006 Heap of the Month at Provo High. We're so proud.) The clothes are the same--except that we showed a little less skin and a lot less underwear. Just last month my daughter borrowed a pair of gauchos to wear at my friend's reception--that's one clothing item I truly never thought I'd see resurrected. Wrong again. (Disclaimer: Yeah, I know most all of you were mere babes in the 70s and were spared some of its worst fashion faux pas. But trust me on this one, OK?) The music is the same. It seems in decades redux past you had to suffer through remakes of old music. But now the original versions are in. I will never forget the look on my 15-year-old'...

I'm so excited. My entire family is going to see Arsenic and Old Lace tomorrow night (Thanks for the tickets, Mom)! Why am I excited? Perhaps if you have not yet experienced the joy of having two teenage boys, you might not get it. But the fact that we are all going together is a huge deal. Given all they know about the play is that it's about a couple of old women and they just have my word on the fact that it is supposed to be funny--a monumentally huge deal! How did I bribe my teenagers to join us? In addition to the usual threats, they were a little bit influenced by the fact that one of their favorite (Thanks Brother Hess!) seminary teachers is in the play. Cool. This is also one of the things I really like about living in Provo. You do have access to some good cultural experiences here and in Salt Lake City--not just for yourself, but also to entertain and enlighten your kids. I didn't get exposed to a lot of theater where I grew up. It might have been more due to ...