Also: no TV, no computer, no movies. For a week.

I’m not sure they’ve quite digested this fact yet. They’re still starry-eyed from thinking about the flight on which they each get their OWN TV SCREENS embedded in the chair in front of them. The flight during which I allow them to watch 7 hours of TV straight and… I don’t complain! Amazing!

It will be sooooo good for us. By the time we get back they might just have been weaned. At least temporarily.

* Sigh*

I was brought up without TV, so the constant media onslaught of our day and age is hard for me. Sometimes I just want silence. SILENCE! Lots of it.

Today, observing my oh-so-forgetful-one (the kid who is taller than his father but can’t find his own teeth to brush them), I was humbled. And I was proud–of him, but also of myself. Let me explain.

Peter, who is 14, is running a lacrosse camp for 5-6 years old this week. He’s dealing with the e-mails, the reminders, the schedule, the emergency phone number, the cash, all of it. (That’s why there’s $$$ all over the kitchen table and a bunch of kids just never turned up, but you live and you learn, right? Gotta let him make his own mistakes… right?)

His father and I have been looking over his shoulder, suggesting things and helping him get organized and trying our darndest to lay off the poor kid. I’ve been nervous because I have writing to do, and no time to babysit six little kids during a regular work day.

So this morning, I sat upstairs in my office for four hours, listening for trouble. Nothing but laughter and grunting from outside. Peter ran these adorable little fellows all over our yard, organizing drills, joking around with them, being a big brother. He never once asked for help and afterwards, he even cleaned up after himself. Wow.

Now, a therapist once told me that kids function  at the level you expect them to function. If you say, come on, you’ve got to get over your laziness and DO something, they’ll fulfill your expectations by being lazy. If, on the other hand, you expect competance, they’ll be competant.

Sounds so obvious doesn’t it? Why is that so hard for us moms to achieve? It was great watching HIM be in control today, and keeping out of his way. I felt pride for both of us: I helped shape this little airhead into a functioning human! All those hours spent looking for lost items, reminding him of things, pushing him out of his comfort zone… and the breathing space we give him works. It’s hard for us to step away sometimes and let them take control, but it’s exactly what the doctor ordered.

When I exercise, I feel more energetic and my moods are much better. Just ask my husband! I used to run three times a week, do a couple of weight classes at the gym and do yoga. As work got busier, that was pared down. A lot. The less I did, the grumpier I became. I had no choice about doing the work, but of course exercise is always optional.

Soon I was down to one weight session at home, squeezed in before making dinner and after a Herculean day writing at the computer. Not a successful combination as I could barely even lift the weights above my head and who am I kidding anyway? Once a week is not going to cut it!

But I really needed a break. I just loathe routine. I told myself that I can’t push myself to capacity 100% of the time and that I deserved a break.

So I took one. It lasted two months and 5 pounds.

So I’m up and running again now. The kids are out of school already and I get up really early to run before they wake up. I have to drag myself out of bed (I am NOT any early riser by nature), but I already feel better.

Really, I do!I still haven’t quite found the old spring in my step I had this winter, but at least I’m up and running.

Kevin and I took the kids out for dinner to celebrate graduation. First, they ate using their utensils and didn’t burp loudly, drop food all over the floor or complain about having to wait.

Well, they are no longer toddlers, so I guess that’s all a given… but I’ll take my little triumphs where I can get ‘em.

But the clincher was, for me, a heated discussion about modern art.

Peter said, “I hate modern art! It’s crazy–why would anyone pay a gazillion dollars for a line drawn on a canvas!”

Greta said, “But what is art anyway?”

Svenja said, “Where’s the ketchup?” (She’s a work in progress.)

I tried to explain what art is. We all discussed Warhol’s can of soup and Damian Hurst’s pig in formaldehyde. Kevin mentioned the sculpture of the children with phallic noses that we all saw in in the Saatchi Gallery in London. Okay, sure, that took us a bit by surprise–we’re walking along quite happily and BAM! Ring around the rosie with big penises hanging off little girls’ faces… Modern art definitely pushes the envelope. Sometimes it’s disgusting, or boring or seems meaningless. But it almost always makes you think and often, it sticks with you in unexpected ways.

I was happy yesterday. Art! Food! Discussion! That’s life!

Energy… hopefulness… remember that?

Really, there’s almost nothing better than waking up in the morning with a spring in your step. Too often, I wake up in a daze because I am still tired (too many late nights watching Workout on Bravo, my guilty pleasure).

Okay, sometimes it’s because of that extra glass of wine. And yes, sometimes it’s because I forget to take my thryoid meds–despite the turning point documented in the book when I was half dead before I realized that if I would only take care of my health by taking my medicine, I would be all right again….

Maybe the spring has left my step because… I am not exercising. There you go, I admitted it.

Yes, I know, we have a whole chapter in the book about THE NEED TO EXERCISE AND TAKE YOUR HEALTH SERIOUSLY. Hmm.  I’m afraid that exercising is the very first thing that gets chopped off my list when I have too much to do.

I have made peace with that. It comes and goes. As long as I maintain my weight (kinda) and commit to re-committing when I have time again (!), I cut myself a break on the exercise front. You just can’t have it all, all the time. Something has to give.

But when I saw those fresh faces today, all that repressed energy and those bright eyes, I did think to myself, maybe I’ll go for a run tomorrow…

Ice cream.

Yesterday I take Peter to Coldstone Creamery after his hellacious History exam and we talk about the graduation trip. Turns out, it’s all no biggie. He just felt silly for forgetting to get the permission slip signed.

So much for my fears of a weirdo-loner lurking in a dank basement for the rest of his life. Turns out he’s just a kid who forgets stuff, and feels bad about it.

I just discovered by total accident that my 14-year old son isn’t going on the “fun” white water rafting and  amusement park trip with his graduating class because, “I didn’t get my permission slip in on time.”

Okay. Number one: I immediately feel bad. I am supposed to sign that slip. How come I never saw it? How come I didn’t ask him where the slip was, given the trip starts on Sunday? First instinct: blame self.

Number two: Why is he making this lame excuse? Does he not want to go on the trip because he doesn’t feel comfortable with his “friends?” (He’s only been at the school a year and it’s been a rough ride.)

Number three: Does that mean he’s been lying all year claiming that he does have friends, even if he never sees anyone from his new school or calls them or even talks about them….?

It is my responsibility to get to the bottom of this, because otherwise no one else will. I want him to bond and have fun, just like all the other kids. I don’t want him to become  some sad, pale-faced, basement-dwelling loner! I know I can’t control or dictate all aspects of his life (and believe me, I don’t want to), but I also know I can and want to help him navigate these tricky waters.

Blaming or second-guessing myself doesn’t help anyone and frankly just ruins my day. So, enough of the self torture. To work:

Instead of an angry call to the school (WHY DIDN’T YOU CHECK WITH ME ABOUT THE DARN SLIP?), I will ask, politely, if they can shed any light on this situation.

Then, I will take a time-out with Peter. We will leave the girls here, and I will go somewhere neutral with him — maybe the ice cream store or CVS, his favorite places in the universe — and see if I can get him to talk.

Talk talk talk. I’m also going to dig up that indispensable book, How to Talk so Kids Will Listen. Although what I really want to know, is how to get my kid to talk. Ideas, anyone?

Now I feel sorry for her; I whined for a full ten minutes before even stopping to take a breath.

She talked a lot about the Oprah book pick, A New Earth by Eckert Tolle. Apparently it talks about the ego and how we have to let go of it in order to achieve greater happiness. (I think there’s a hint in there somewhere, huh?) What made me laugh was looking at the picture of him and realizing I’ve seen it before. While researching Mothers Need Time-Outs, Too, I came across quite a few great quotes from Tolle.

I didn’t know who he was back then, and digging a little deeper (this is pre-Oprah, remember) I found a photograph of him. I thought… hmmmm… this guy looks pretty w-e-i-r-d! Is he part of some strange Mormon sect or does he gnaw on body parts as snacks?

I guess he has no ego. Why else the truly disturbing facial hair?

I remember when they were babies and I’d sometimes get them down as early as 7 pm so I could enjoy a nice glass of wine with my hubbie. Now it 9:32 pm and ALL THREE OF THEM including my nine-year-old are all still up.

The good old days of time outs at night, wine in hand, watching an avidly-followed TV series in real time, are long gone.

So instead, I take my time outs at the movies as often as I can. Friday, I’ll be going to see Sex and the City with a friend. My kids can veg at home, while I pretend to be a hot, big city big shot, with a big paycheck, big hair, big heels and big plans.

“Ah! Oh! Wow! That’s JUST like Leonie!”

Then when I got to the part of the story where he is diagnosed with ADHD–and how we’re having trouble getting his teachers to understand that he’s not being a lazy slacker, but that he’s got issues with his frontal lobes, thank you very much–she was utterly perplexed.

“What’s ADHD?” she asked.

I almost fell out of my foaming bathtub and chipped my perfect red nail varnish. What? There’s a mother on this earth who hasn’t heard about the ADD/ADHD epidemic? How is that even possible these days?

I started wondering about the advantages and burdens of these kind of diagnoses. On the one hand, knowledge is power, right? Now that we know he’s not just being a lazy slacker, we can stop chaining him to the desk and whipping him when he forgets his pencil for the ten millionth time.

BUT… in the old days, his behavior would have been dealt with too, just without involving a doctor, a neuro psychologist, a nutritionist, a therapist, a pharamacist and a mom racking up miles in the car and endless time on the phone and in bland offices with beige wallpaper and tinkling (supposedly soothing) water fountains.

We talked to a group of 70 working moms yesterday and when we asked if they thought the old days were easier for moms, almost all of them raised their hands. Hm. Am I happy to know the issues my children are struggling with in their everyday lives and trying to help them deal? Of course! Moms are fixers, but we can’t always make everything right.

So… is ignorance bliss, then? In some way, I do envy my friend Catherin. ADD? Huh?