Getting to Know You...Getting to Know ALL About You....

The Beast, like her father, is social…very social. With every new school year I am thrown into a group of New Moms because of the child’s ever expanding social connections. Some moms I click with and others not so much. Some I think I would like, but then some horrible character flaw is revealed—like they don’t drink or are republicans.

“I just picked up a bottle of wine—would you like a glass?” Said the New Mom to me.

So far, so good—always wise to offer to another mom, regardless of event (this happened to be an evening birthday party pick-up) a glass of wine. Then she called out over her shoulder as she was getting the glasses “ I hate keeping wine in the house. I think it is dangerous.”

And I thought—“Freak! Guns are dangerous to have in the house—wine is a good thing.” Obviously this New Mom is taking the D.A.R.E. program to the Extremes.

But instead of being thoughtful and inquiring about AA issues in the home…I said: “That’s odd. I hate if we have less than the case of red wine in the cellar—just on the off chance there is another 9/11 event—we want to be prepared…wine is key, that and the 40 bags of Starbucks coffee.”

She stared at me as though to say—“You know--you are letting the terrorists win.” But instead…she just smiled.

The chic still drinks and has the social wherewithal to offer me wine—she has potential. Unlike the non-drinking, pseudo tea-party types who live in the McMansions down the street.

The Man tells me if I were more open-minded and less snarky—I would probably have more friends. I remind him—I would no longer be the woman he fell in love with: A bitter and sarcastic New Yorker.

I will let The Beast and The Man grow our social sphere.

I Don't Like that Kid and I don't Like her Parents Either.

The party had evolved, or rather, devolved into the kids making-out on the patio and skinny-dipping in the pool. The parents, tucked away in their palatial kitchen-- lined with granite counter tops and high end stainless steel appliances… were apparently oblivious to the children’s activity—I hope. This was not a high school party—this was a 13 year olds’ birthday party.

You know I obsess about The Beast’s friends, but I am not sure if I mentioned it—I have an unhealthy fixation with the parents of her friends too. I know…for someone who refers to her child as The Beast, has questionable parenting practices of her own and relates her personal rag-tag upbringing on-line…one would think I should not talk…yet, chatter away I do.

Perhaps it is unfair to equate house size or level of luxury to parenting style, but just on anecdotal evidence I have noticed a decrease in control/engagement with the child the larger the house or the appliances. McMansions, Viking stoves, Architectural Digest kitchens, Audi in the driveway are all red flags to me. Red flags that suggest the parents are driven, busy and probably pleasing their children rather than parenting them.

When I think back on my own childhood—it was the rich kids in the new development houses that had THE parties. They had the basement rec rooms with the pot and alcohol. I think I witness more pot consumption in suburban basements during my high school years then in my entire college career—which is saying a lot. I can only imagine with these larger houses and busier parents this little pre-view of the Young Teens Gone Wild Pool Party is just the beginning of a long slide downhill into the high school years.

I am thinking boarding school.