Christmas Traditions: Panda Day

Published on by Kelly Suellentrop4 Comments

What’s black and white and red all over? A panda in a Santa costume of course.

What? You’ve never heard of the Christmas Panda? Well, I feel pretty sorry for you. Because he’s awesome. He brings presents after Christmas, along with a feast of assorted meats and cheeses and grilled pineapple, mimosas, board game fun, and the option to attend the festivities in your jammies, if you feel so inclined.

christmas panda
Panda Day a few years ago. Michael didn’t appreciate wearing the mascot’s hat.

Panda Day is part of our Christmastime tradition. It started a few years ago with my husband’s family as time set aside to celebrate just with his parents and siblings. See, both my husband and I are blessed (and usually not cursed) to have a very large chunk of our extended families here in St. Louis, which means Christmas Eve and Christmas day are practically scheduled down to the minute. So eventually we had the brilliant idea that it was really okay to celebrate part of our Christmas AFTER the actual day. And it has turned out to be a well-loved tradition. Today was our Merry Panda Day.

deer
The “reindeer” that appeared in our backyard

On the way home tonight, I was thinking of all the Christmas traditions we are not only passing on to our kids, but also creating for our kids. I wonder which memories will stay with them, which moments are helping to write the stories of their childhoods? Christmastime is always an indelible chapter in those stories. We try so hard to create magical and perfect holiday moments for our kids to fondly remember. Sometimes those are the visions they hold dear. But sometimes magic happens even when we are not trying. For example, twice this month my kids spied a giant buck in our backyard. We are used to occasionally seeing does and their young, but hardly ever are we treated to the antlered version. And the coincidental fact that this buck made himself known so close to Christmas, and the fact that he could easily be mistaken for a reindeer by my kids, made for pure yule tide delight. Grace was sure it was Prancer checking out our roof for the best place to land on the big night. There is nothing I could have ever orchestrated to make her believe in Christmas magic more than that simple and perfectly timed sighting. Although I do think the phone call from Santa (a.k.a. our friend Bob) that comes every year does a pretty good job as well. There is always that perfect mix of fear and wonder in their eyes at the first booming sound of Bob’s voice on the other end of the line.

We would have the Christmas Panda call too, but well,…who the heck knows what a panda sounds like? That would be an awkward conversation. Besides, he is kind of lazy. He only brings presents to us, and often waits until the after-Christmas sales to do his shopping. Ah, the magic of Panda Day.

Christmas Traditions

Published on by Kelly Suellentrop4 Comments

What’s black and white and red all over? A panda in a Santa costume of course.

What? You’ve never heard of the Christmas Panda? Well, I feel pretty sorry for you. Because he’s awesome. He brings presents after Christmas, along with a feast of assorted meats and cheeses and grilled pineapple, mimosas, board game fun, and the option to attend the festivities in your jammies, if you feel so inclined.

christmas panda
Panda Day a few years ago. Michael didn’t appreciate wearing the mascot’s hat.

Panda Day is part of our Christmastime tradition. It started a few years ago with my husband’s family as time set aside to celebrate just with his parents and siblings. See, both my husband and I are blessed (and usually not cursed) to have a very large chunk of our extended families here in St. Louis, which means Christmas Eve and Christmas day are practically scheduled down to the minute. So eventually we had the brilliant idea that it was really okay to celebrate part of our Christmas AFTER the actual day. And it has turned out to be a well-loved tradition. Today was our Merry Panda Day.

deer
The “reindeer” that appeared in our backyard

On the way home tonight, I was thinking of all the Christmas traditions we are not only passing on to our kids, but also creating for our kids. I wonder which memories will stay with them, which moments are helping to write the stories of their childhoods? Christmastime is always an indelible chapter in those stories. We try so hard to create magical and perfect holiday moments for our kids to fondly remember. Sometimes those are the visions they hold dear. But sometimes magic happens even when we are not trying. For example, twice this month my kids spied a giant buck in our backyard. We are used to occasionally seeing does and their young, but hardly ever are we treated to the antlered version. And the coincidental fact that this buck made himself known so close to Christmas, and the fact that he could easily be mistaken for a reindeer by my kids, made for pure yule tide delight. Grace was sure it was Prancer checking out our roof for the best place to land on the big night. There is nothing I could have ever orchestrated to make her believe in Christmas magic more than that simple and perfectly timed sighting. Although I do think the phone call from Santa (a.k.a. our friend Bob) that comes every year does a pretty good job as well. There is always that perfect mix of fear and wonder in their eyes at the first booming sound of Bob’s voice on the other end of the line.

We would have the Christmas Panda call too, but well,…who the heck knows what a panda sounds like? That would be an awkward conversation. Besides, he is kind of lazy. He only brings presents to us, and often waits until the after-Christmas sales to do his shopping. Ah, the magic of Panda Day.

Lock Your Doors: There is Danger in The Lou

Published on by Kelly Suellentrop10 Comments

Huh. I just heard on the radio this morning that St. Louis, Missouri is the third most dangerous city in the world. You heard me correctly…the WORLD. The home of the World Series Champion Cardinals is nestled between Ciudad Juarez, Mexico and Port-au-Prince, Haiti. We also safely beat out Mogadishu, Somalia (#5); Grozny, Chechnya, Russia (#8); and Muzaffarabad, Kashmir, Pakistan (#10). That’s right. My city is more dangerous than one embroiled in the Afghan war.

Wow. So I guess the fact that I have safely survived thirty-four years without so much as mace in my purse means I have way more street cred than I ever would have imagined.

Or this could simply be a case of irresponsible journalism. Surprising, I know.

st. louis arch
Does this skyline look dangerous to you?

I was curious to see this report that one of our local radio stations broadcasted as I drove my daughter to school this morning. I apparently did not realize how lucky I was to have made the trip without encountering a car bomb or a car-jacking. So I typed in the keywords, expecting to see a rash of trustworthy news sources citing some legitimate study done by a governmental statistics agency, or something along those lines. Instead, I got one result at the top of the list from a website called Urban Titan, whose tag line is “All Things That are Weird, Bizarre, Strange and Unusual.” And the article about the ten most dangerous cities in the world was written by “Nataly.” Just Nataly. Apparently she is such a renowned expert that she does not need a last name.

That is just for starters. The “article” was riddled with typos. And when I was finished reading the “article,” I could click on one of the numerous ads on either side to educate myself on the ten most controversial cartoon characters, the five most bizarre deaths during sexual intercourse, and how drunk girls like to “experiment.” This is hard-hitting journalism, folks.

Not only that, but as part of the explanation of why St. Louis, Missouri is on the list, the author claims that 65% of our crime occurs in East St. Louis. Hold it. East St. Louis? You mean that city that shares our name but is a completely different city? The one with its own mayor, and…oh yeah, its own STATE? As in East St. Louis, ILLINOIS? Granted, I will admit that East St. Louis is considered to be within the family of “the St. Louis area.” We certainly claim its successes for our own, such as Ike and Tina Turner and Miles Davis. But when taking statistics for something like the most dangerous cities, it can only seem fair to include the stats strictly within the city limits, and East St. Louis does not fall within those limits. If they are going to be lax about parameters, at least throw in the stats from suburbs like Manchester and Frontenac to give our median a fair picure of the area. Even still, I would question if East St. Louis as its own entity would be able to keep up with some of the world’s most violent places.

But I think what bothers me the most is that some of our own St. Louisans brought this story into the limelight by discussing it on their radio show without really checking the validity of the story. The original article on Urban Titan was posted in January of this year, which means it went virtually unnoticed in our media for almost a year. Why? Because had it been a legitimate study, it would have made news. But it’s not. And now our own fellow citizens are perpetuating an idea that St. Louis is really worse than it is…which really is not that bad at all. I am not denying the fact that we have crime, and more crime than we should. But it seems that polls like this one and the recent Men’s Health poll on the saddest cities in America (in which we came in sixth) do nothing but create overall unrealistic images of cities which can be a danger to tourism and commerce. And for what?

I guess the only thing we in St. Louis can do is hold on to the fact that we know we live in a great city with a rich history. The Gateway to the West. The home of the Arch, interesting architecture, fabulous museums, copious and tantalizing restaurants, cozy neighborhoods to raise families, Forest Park, ground-breaking music, the eleven-time World Series Champions, and some damn fine beer, among many, many other things. Oh, and the best tasting city water in America (see: http://www.stlwater.com/bestwater.php).

As far as I’m concerned, the rest is just fuzzy math. Then again, most math is fuzzy to me.

“I Smell Poop”…and Ten Other Things I Rarely Said When I Was 24

Published on by Kelly Suellentrop4 Comments

A few weeks ago I was recounting a potty training story to some friends over frozen yogurt. (This is how you know we are all moms: we could comfortably talk of poop while eating a smooth frozen treat covered with chunks of chocolate). I was, and still am, having issues with Michael not wanting to do #2 in the toilet. During this particular incident, he had pooped in his pants and then tried to clean it up himself. I guess I should give him props for TRYING to amend the situation; however, his version of cleaning up ACTUALLY meant making a bigger mess. A poopy mess…on the vanity of the bathroom, on the walls, on the floor, on the couch, even on his face and in his hair. All this took place while I was in the shower (because that’s when it always happens. I’m considering trying out the European method of bathing in order to head off more home disasters). As I emerged from my room, the aroma hit me with my first step into the hallway. “I smell poop,” was what I said. At this point in the story, my friend Niki started laughing and said, “Now THAT’S a blog post. I Smell Poop.” Well, Niki…I kindly thank you for the idea.

“I smell poop.” A simple phrase. Yet it represents how vastly my life has changed in the last ten years. (Though I might confess I uttered these words in college at some point, but surely with MUCH less frequency than I do now). The lexicon of my life has taken on different tones and subjects since my days as a twenty-four year old. And it got me thinking about other things that rarely, if ever, tumbled across my lips in those carefree days of my young adulthood:

1. Double coupons AND it’s on sale? YESSSSSS!

2. I’m not a very big fan of “Super Why.” I think “Word World” is much more creative. And have you watched “Sid the Science Kid”? That’s some good TV. But yeah, “Yo Gabba Gabba” is totally whacked out, yet I’m mesmerized by it at the same time.

3. Excuse me, I need to go pee-pee.

4. You get what you get and you don’t get upset.

5. I’ll just bring it to you at carpool pick up.

6. I have a wet wipe in my purse if you need it. Or I have sanitizing wipes…or hand sanitizer. Take your pick. Are you hungry? I also have a snack bag of pretzels.

7. That is a nice looking mini van. I’m so jealous.

8. Let’s go eat someplace where there is a playground…or some video games.

9. I am soooo gonna try that crock pot recipe.

10. I think I’ll spend my night off at Target. Then maybe Kohl’s or Michael’s, if I’m not too tired.

I could probably go on, but I have a big night ahead of me. I am going to try that aforementioned crock pot recipe and I am late for a big time art show. It is displayed on the walls throughout my house and consists mainly of pages out of a Barbie coloring book, but I hear it is very cutting edge.

Gratitude from Grief

Published on by Kelly Suellentrop2 Comments

November. The official month of thankfulness. The promise of savoring sacred family recipes always serves as a cue to be mindful of my blessings. And a number of Facebook friends are posting things large and small for which they are thankful, one for every day this month. But yesterday something happened. Something that was like a bullhorn screaming at me to pay attention to all that is good in my life. Something that I wish had never happened, and would never happen again…to anyone.

angel child comforting mother
A powerful photo my friend posted on her Facebook page.

Yesterday, our friends Justin and Angie lost their four-year-old son Chase. Months ago, Chase contracted E.coli, which developed into something called HUS. It ravaged his poor little body. For a time, despite all that had happened, a miracle drug seemed to be giving his family and doctors hope for recovery. But his progress was short-lived, and soon there was nothing more the doctors could do. After a few weeks of being kept comfortable, Chase surrendered to his final rest. And now Justin and Angie must live in a world without him, after knowing how beautiful the world was with him.

It’s not fair. It’s not right. Pure and simple.

Being a parent, I can not help but try to imagine what this must be like for them. But I know anything I imagine can not possibly come close to the reality they are experiencing. My heart breaks for them, for Chase, who was robbed of his chance to live a full life, and for his five-year-old brother, who is way too young to have to deal with so much grief. The weight of all of that will sometimes envelop me. But then the relieving moment comes, like when you wake up from a bad dream, when you realize all is right in your own reality. And within my sadness for my friends, I find my ability to be thankful for my own blessings.

I am thankful that my two children are sleeping soundly in their beds. That I can kiss them and hug them. That we can read books together and I can watch them play in the backyard. Even that they can whine and pout and thoroughly annoy me, because that means that they are HERE…with me.

I must be honest in saying there is a pang of guilt in this, as if feeling this way is somehow an insult to my friends. But then I think the greater tragedy would be to have witnessed their tremendous loss and NOT find more reasons to be grateful with what I have, for however long I have it. Because the fact of the matter is, we just don’t know what our lives have in store for us. We can hope, we can pray, we can plan. But Justin and Angie did all those things, and I am certain that what they are going through right now was never on their lists of hopes, prayers, or plans.

So I am going to love as fully as I can. I am going to kiss my kids even when they don’t want me to. I am going to read them one more page before bedtime. I am going to remember what is truly important. I am going to realize the next time the kids ruin something in the house that I am lucky to have them, not whatever was ruined. I am going to listen when they laugh. And I am not going to wait until Thanksgiving to be thankful.

Rest in peace, little Chase. You gave your parents a lot to be thankful for.

My “Wheres” of 9/11

Published on by Kelly Suellentrop2 Comments
photo credit: 911 Memorial via photopin (license)
photo credit: 911 Memorial via photopin (license)

Time is a funny thing. When you think of ten years, it seems like a pretty solid chunk of time. A lot has certainly happened in my life over the past decade. But ten years ago today, a lot of innocent people were robbed of the chance to experience this same decade that has filled my life so fully. And the event that played the role of thief feels just like yesterday in many ways.

My Facebook status today reads, “Remembering where I was, where I have been, and where I am.” I guess to me, that is what this day is about. In most respects, I am fortunate that the majority of September 11, 2011 will a be fairly typical Sunday. I did not lose anyone close to me, nor did the attacks happen in my city. So my day will play out with a certain normality: church, Grace’s first soccer game of the year, and a family get-together for Grandma Suellentrop’s birthday. But I know my mind will take pause for little moments throughout the day, remembering what happened ten years ago.

Where I Was: On September 11, 2001 when the first plane hit the World Trade Center’s north tower, I was sitting at my desk grading papers during my free period (I taught high school English). I heard a knock at the door and turned to see a colleague who immediately told me what had happened. I walked down to my department head’s office where a few other teachers had already gathered around her small television set. Like every other American, we were stunned. We watched in horror as a second plane hit the south tower and mourned as we witnessed both towers collapse before our eyes. And then the Pentagon. At the sound of the bell, I walked to my classroom wondering how in the world I was supposed to teach a lesson on the Iliad. How could I expect my students to pay attention to the happenings of a mythological war when a real war was happening at this very moment? And I was worried about the questions…why? who? what’s going to happen? are we safe? my dad is on a business trip in New York – can I call him? I did not have any answers. I was in a way still a child myself at only twenty-four. So I gave the students a choice. I handed out study questions that they could work on if they chose to, and I turned on the television in the classroom. This was history they were witnessing after all…terrible history, but history no less.

Where I Have Been: As I mentioned, a lot has happened to me in the ten years since 9/11, most of it very wonderful.  I got married, got a dog, bought a car, left my teaching job, had two kids, moved to a new house, discovered new talents and hobbies, lost my grandfather, made new and wonderful friends, became an aunt, started a blog…the list goes on. But I will admit that the terrorist attacks affected the way I look at the world. For the past ten years, 9/11 has always crossed my mind every time I fly. For the past ten years, I have worried a bit more about our country’s existing and future relationships with the rest of world…and about the future for my children.  But for the past ten years, I have continued to live probably in much the same way I would have had 9/11 never happened…not because it did not change the world or affect my consciousness, but because there are brave men and women fighting for and defending me, enabling me to do so.

Where I Am: So on this anniversary, it still feels a bit surreal. I can easily put myself back there and remember crisply how it felt, like stepping into an emotional time machine. But we are not there anymore. In so many ways, we have all moved on. Now September 11th serves as a reminder to me of all I have to be grateful for. I am not going to pretend I can make sense of the tragedy, or find some reason that so many innocent lives were lost. Maybe God had a reason for it. But to me, it was just sad. I will say prayers that all those victims have found peace after such violent deaths, that their loved ones have found the strength to live without them, that the survivors are no longer haunted by the memory of that day, that safety follows our troops overseas, that world leaders can find a way for peace, and that we may all guide our lives by the pursuit of happiness.

My “Where’s” of 9/11

Published on by Kelly Suellentrop2 Comments

9-11 memorialTime is a funny thing. When you think of ten years, it seems like a pretty solid chunk of time. A lot has certainly happened in my life over the past decade. But ten years ago today, a lot of innocent people were robbed of the chance to experience this same decade that has filled my life so fully. And the event that played the role of thief feels just like yesterday in many ways.

My Facebook status today reads, “Remembering where I was, where I have been, and where I am.” I guess to me, that is what this day is about. In most respects, I am fortunate that the majority of September 11, 2011 will a be fairly typical Sunday. I did not lose anyone close to me, nor did the attacks happen in my city. So my day will play out with a certain normality: church, Grace’s first soccer game of the year, and a family get-together for Grandma Suellentrop’s birthday. But I know my mind will take pause for little moments throughout the day, remembering what happened ten years ago.

Where I Was: On September 11, 2001 when the first plane hit the World Trade Center’s north tower, I was sitting at my desk grading papers during my free period (I taught high school English). I heard a knock at the door and turned to see a colleague who immediately told me what had happened. I walked down to my department head’s office where a few other teachers had already gathered around her small television set. Like every other American, we were stunned. We watched in horror as a second plane hit the south tower and mourned as we witnessed both towers collapse before our eyes. And then the Pentagon. At the sound of the bell, I walked to my classroom wondering how in the world I was supposed to teach a lesson on the Iliad. How could I expect my students to pay attention to the happenings of a mythological war when a real war was happening at this very moment? And I was worried about the questions…why? who? what’s going to happen? are we safe? my dad is on a business trip in New York – can I call him? I did not have any answers. I was in a way still a child myself at only twenty-four. So I gave the students a choice. I handed out study questions that they could work on if they chose to, and I turned on the television in the classroom. This was history they were witnessing after all…terrible history, but history no less.

Where I Have Been: As I mentioned, a lot has happened to me in the ten years since 9/11, most of it very wonderful.  I got married, got a dog, bought a car, left my teaching job, had two kids, moved to a new house, discovered new talents and hobbies, lost my grandfather, made new and wonderful friends, became an aunt, started a blog…the list goes on. But I will admit that the terrorist attacks affected the way I look at the world. For the past ten years, 9/11 has always crossed my mind every time I fly. For the past ten years, I have worried a bit more about our country’s existing and future relationships with the rest of world…and about the future for my children.  But for the past ten years, I have continued to live probably in much the same way I would have had 9/11 never happened…not because it did not change the world or affect my consciousness, but because there are brave men and women fighting for and defending me, enabling me to do so.

Where I Am: So on this anniversary, it still feels a bit surreal. I can easily put myself back there and remember crisply how it felt, like stepping into an emotional time machine. But we are not there anymore. In so many ways, we have all moved on. Now September 11th serves as a reminder to me of all I have to be grateful for. I am not going to pretend I can make sense of the tragedy, or find some reason that so many innocent lives were lost. Maybe God had a reason for it. But to me, it was just sad. I will say prayers that all those victims have found peace after such violent deaths, that their loved ones have found the strength to live without them, that the survivors are no longer haunted by the memory of that day, that safety follows our troops overseas, that world leaders can find a way for peace, and that we may all guide our lives by the pursuit of happiness.

A Worthy Price to Pay

Published on by Kelly Suellentrop3 Comments

Before my daughter started kindergarten last year, my husband and I had the discussion that I am sure a lot of parents have: whether to send her to public school or to a Catholic parochial school. In many ways, it was an agonizing decision. But truth be told, I think we both knew what our answer was going to be before we even started the discussion.

I would like to start by saying that first and foremost, I believe in SCHOOL…whatever form it takes. Education is one of the most important tools we parents can give our children. And my husband and I knew we were in a good position for this. We live in a fantastic school district AND our parish parochial school is very impressive as well. So this really was not a question of where our kids would get the best education. We knew we would be happy with the curriculum and standards of either school. Besides, learning is just as much about what the student and the parents put into it as it is about what the school offers.

But there is that little issue of tuition. That was really where our biggest stumbling block occurred. When you make a side by side comparison of free education with an education that comes with a fairly sizable price tag, it is hard to ignore the difference. Catholic school tuition meant sacrifice for us. The question became, is that sacrifice worth it? When it really came down to it, we thought it was.

It is sometimes hard to explain to people who do not understand why we would choose to pay for Catholic education when we could send our kids to a wonderful public school for free and supplement their religious education with PSR (Parish School of Religion) classes once a week. But it is the same reason I chose to take a teaching position at a Catholic high school over a better paying one at a local public school. It just felt right.

It felt right for the development of my children’s spiritual lives to be a natural part of their education, that God can be part of the equation in any subject matter. After all, He is part of the whole equation in our home life. Does it not make sense that He be a part of their educational life? I am not going all “creationism over evolution” here. But I do believe that God can be found in science. And it is nice to know that my kids will be able to discuss that in a classroom setting.

And there are other things that make me happy about sending my kids to a Catholic school. I had one of those little reminders just yesterday. As I pulled into the parking lot for pickup, I noticed Grace and her classmates were encircling the statue of Mary outside the church with a bunch of blue balloons. They were having a prayer service in honor of Mary’s birthday. And like any good birthday party, they all got goodies at the end, in the form of fruit snacks. Then the students dispersed to find their parents and head home. Grace walked over to me with her friend Sarah and I said, “It looks like you guys were having a little party over there.” They both smiled and replied, “Yeah! Mary’s birthday!” Then they high-fived each other. That’s right…they were giving each other some skin for the Holy Mother’s big day. The phrase “you know you go to Catholic school when…” popped into my head. But it was really just too cute for words.

Now that we have started our second year of Catholic education for my daughter, do we ever second guess our decision? I have to admit there are times when that tuition bill comes around and I literally grunt, and times when I drive past our public elementary school and envy all that free education happening behind the doors. But other than that, I can wholeheartedly say we have been so happy with the decision we made. Grace’s school has lived up to every expectation we had,  and I feel good that I am giving her (and eventually Michael) a similar educational story to the ones my husband and I had…which we actually really loved and appreciate to this day.

Grace's First Day of Kindergarten 2010

Oh, and I have not even BEGUN to sing the praises of those plaid uniforms. Let’s not even mention how adorable Grace looks in it. The fact that I can avoid the battle of the wardrobe every morning might just be worth the tuition alone…we certainly have enough battles to fight without that one rearing its head. Oh, how my gratitude to the Catholic school system swells…

Please Laugh At Me…Don’t “LOL” At Me

Published on by Kelly Suellentrop7 Comments

The sweet and spicy milkiness of my chai tea latte glided down my throat as I sat with a few fellow preschool moms at St. Louis Bread Co., celebrating the first day of school for our little three-year-olds (all of whom are either the youngest or the only, meaning we all had nearly four hours to ourselves…hence the celebration). Somehow the conversation turned to the topic of our completely archaic cell phones. My friend Kelly (what a great name!) said the man at her nail salon made fun of her old “block phone.” And I joked, though completely serious, that I can never figure out how to even CALL someone on my husband’s Blackberry. And I pretty much do not text because I hate having to press the “2” button three times just to get the letter “C”. At that moment, Kelly motioned her head to the table behind me and said, “Look at those two.”

I inconspicuously turned my head to see an elderly couple sitting across from each other, both with Blackberries, completely enthralled in texting. Yes, I said an ELDERLY couple. It was a bit amusing that these people who could be my grandparents were more up to date with their technology than a table full of thirty-somethings, but there was also something very disturbing about that picture to me. I think one of the ladies commented that it was “impressive,” but to tell the truth, I really just thought it was sad.

Here were two people of a generation that was brought up during a time of real human interaction, a time when correspondence was really quite an art form. But now we live in a time when even an elderly couple can not sit and enjoy each other’s company for long enough without “lol-ing” some text they received from Mildred concerning Betty’s outrageous behavior during the bridge game.

cell phone texting
“I’m sorry, what? I only speak English.”

Are you getting the distinct feeling that I am not a fan of texting? Well, you would be right. For starters, I think it is threatening the future of our written language. The act of texting is so ingrained in younger generations that “text language” almost comes more naturally to them than the English language when putting something down on paper (…paper? What’s paper? You mean people still WRITE on that stuff? With a…what’s it called…a pen?). I saw firsthand how it affected my high school students’ composition skills when I was teaching. And that was over five years ago. It can only have gotten worse.

More than that, I think it can negatively affect social skills. Sure, the occasional text here and there is harmless. I do not think that my husband texting me as I shop at Schnucks to make sure to get ice cream is ruining our communication skills in our marriage. I can certainly see the conveniences. But for so many people it has become a primary mode of conversation and, well, that just can not be good. For a lot of reasons. Visions of Disney’s Wall-E come to mind: a world full of blubbery slugs sitting in front of video screens who are so disconnected they can not even look to the person next to them and have a conversation.

But perhaps the thing I hate most about texting is that while in some ways it forces us to disconnect with each other, it also gives us this false bravery to share WAY too much with each other. I’m talking about “sexting.” My friend Natalie was looking for advice the other day on just this very subject. She had been getting several text messages from a wrong number, and from the nature of the texts, this person obviously thought Natalie was someone she had a more “intimate” relationship with. (Though I’m wondering how well she knew this person she was texting…not well enough to know his correct phone number). Natalie had received some racy messages, topped off with a very suggestive photo. She was wondering how she should break the news that this girl was texting all this sensitive information to the wrong number. Apparently, Natalie wanted to be polite about it. But do you know what my advice to her was? Here was my response:

I would say, “You have the wrong number. Please stop sexting me. If you want your picture back, you can find it on the internet.” There needs to be an element of embarrassment for her…serves her right for sexting in the first place. That’s just dumb. Doesn’t she know how dumb sexting is, for this very reason? What is wrong with girls these days???? Maybe you should send along some recommendations for good feminist literature so she can read it and gain a little pride in herself. Now excuse me while I go say few prayers that my kids don’t have to go grow up in such an idiotic culture.

So that is how I feel about that.

Go ahead and call me a cantankerous old woman at the age of thirty-four. But do me a favor and tell me to my face…or at least call me on the phone. Just do not text me. It will cost me twenty cents.

“The Real Housewives” Parenting Class

Published on by Kelly Suellentrop2 Comments

I have a confession. I am a Real Housewives junkie. It is a bit shameful, I admit. But I can not stop. It has all the sweet and salty elements I crave. But more than anything, I think I watch it because it is great for my self-confidence. Sure, they are all beautiful women living in swanky pads wearing the latest designer duds. But watching them tear each other to shreds over trivial issues that would make even a high school clique cringe with embarrassment makes me feel, well, very mature and balanced. And they certainly prove that money can not buy happiness…or class (yes, Countess LuAnn, my finger is pointing ironically at YOU. I hate to break it to you, but claiming to have class and singing a song about class does not mean you actually have it. Neither does using the word “darling” or your incredibly annoying overuse of its Arabic counterpart, “ya habibi”).

The Real Housewives of New York City

But as I watched The Real Housewives of New York City reunion special this week, I realized that this show may actually make me a better parent. And I say that with no sarcasm in my typing fingers. We’ve all heard that parents should model the behaviors they WANT to see in their children. Well, the reunion special was a wide open, freshly Windexed window into a big, giant house of crazy, full of every behavior I do NOT want my children to exhibit. Name calling, blatant disrespect, and lying, not to mention so much talking over one another that the decibel levels must reach that of a wailing siren (but more grating). And these were GROWN women! I don’t know how host and fellow St. Louis native Andy Cohen stomachs it…he must get a hefty paycheck.

But what disturbed me more than anything was the total lack of willingness to take responsibility for any slimy thing that was said or done throughout the season…despite the fact that it is ALL DOCUMENTED ON FILM! Anytime one of the women was asked about a snide remark, backstabbing action, or just plain mean intention, she would immediately blame someone else or divert attention by bringing up a time when someone else wronged her. Not that this has never happened before on one of the many Real Housewives episodes, but it just seemed that much more prevalent this time around.

Maybe that is because my daughter is getting older. She is weeks away from entering first grade, and it amazes me how already I am seeing very clear and vivid glimpses of the young woman she will become. Her wheels are turning, trying to figure out the world, where she fits into the world, what society finds acceptable, what her mother and father find acceptable. And more than ever, she is trying to discover what she can get away with and what she can’t.

I have to admit that earlier today when I caught Grace very intentionally throwing a toy at her brother and defending herself with, “It’s not my fault. Michael yelled at me, and the toy slipped, and he was just standing in the way of where I was throwing it,” (as if to cover all her bases of motive and accidental scenarios), I flipped. I suddenly saw housewife Kelly Bensimon lounging on my couch denying some catty comment she made about Sonja (again, despite just seeing the clip where she said it) then claiming it wasn’t her fault if anyone was offended by it.

“You WILL take responsibility for what you do!” I chided, as my daughter looked at me a bit bewildered. “Now say you did it. Say you threw that toy at your brother!”

Her little voice quietly parroted me. “I threw that toy at my brother.”

“Thank you,” I said. I breathed a sigh of relief that I had made her take responsibility.Then I walked out of the room…completely forgetting to punish her for hurting Michael in the first place. But that is okay. I will just blame my poor parenting moment on The Real Housewives of New York.