fall = frustration?

It's been a while since I've posted....life's been busy. My beautiful niece was born in late July, and I've been doing a lot of reading and trying to write. And honestly, I've been trying not to let customers get to me as much as they were. It's hard though. The lack of basic manners never, ever fails to irk me. I get very irritated. It takes two seconds to say "please" or "thank you." You gain nothing by being demanding or demeaning to a shop worker. I just don't get it.

There was a woman today who was not only condescending while looking for books, but when she went to pay, didn't like the manufacturer's sticker on the back of the book. We cover the price with our sticker, but she didn't understand that we couldn't take off the manufacturer's sticker because it would rip the cover of the book. She started getting irate, her daughter was like, mom, calm down. I said that I doubt the child would mind, and she got all huffy and said SHE would mind. Come on. It is a sticker on the back of a book jacket. In the grand scheme of things, this is nothing. Chill out. She even grabbed the book out of my co-worker's hands and I thought things were going to get physical. This woman was a trip. The daughter must have been used to this, because she hustled her mother out quickly.

Then - and I know I may get flack for this - there was the woman who came in wanting books on transgender issues for a second grader. My first thought was, hmmm, that's a bit young, no? I mean, we have "My Princess Boy" and all that, but my gut reaction is just, why bring this into childhood so young? Just let the kid do what they want and be a child for a bit longer. We had books for teens, but the mom voted them down. Okay, but if you're bringing that topic up, obviously you think your child is mature enough to talk about and grapple with this....so....I'm not sure what level you're looking for.

I just wish everything were simpler. Things seem like they were simpler when I was a kid. No "special topics" section, we read the classics, I went to a private school where everyone's parents wanted them to be successful but I don't remember anyone's parents pushing them like these parents do. And for Christ's sake, people, don't take yourselves so seriously! I mean, really. None of this is a life or death situation. I promise. Much of these are serious #firstworldproblems of the highest degree. I hate to break it to you, but no one outside Manhattan really cares about your child's 40k per year grade school. Most people probably think it's ridiculous. How did we get to this place?

the ugly side of smart.

(Identifying details have been changed, just so you know). Oh, you Manhatannites. Why do you make this so easy for me? Seriously. Tonight, at work, this older couple comes in. The woman looks high-maintenance, wears her sunglasses inside (maybe she doesn't know the sun's going down and um, we're inside), and they explain they came here this weekend and bought their 5-year old grandson 2 Diary of a Wimpy Kid books, but he already has them. And you know, the grandmother informs me, he's been reading since he's 2 -- self-taught, no less -- and he understands everything, so nothing is too hard for him. The grandfather was more realistic and realized that, hello, the kid is still five and not 15. As they're checking out, my coworker was talking with them, and the grandmother goes, "I just don't understand it. He got a 99 percent on standardized tests, not 100. His best friend -- who I don't think is really as smart as he is -- got a 98 and got into Collegiate, and he didn't. How could he not have gotten 100? Is that what they want?" My coworker explained that with standardized testing, a 99 percentile score means he did better than 99 percent of kids taking the same test, and it's not really feasible to get 100. Then the grandmother starts talking about how smart the grandson is -- did she mention he taught himself to read at only two years old -- and she just really wants to find out why he didn't get into Collegiate but got into Hunter, but of course they won't tell you, and she doesn't think they ask about reading because if they did, he would be in for sure. At this point, I believe my blood pressure was probably somewhere near 200/150 and I don't know what my face must have looked like. I couldn't actually believe what I was hearing. Remember -- THIS IS FOR KINDERGARTEN. They're talking about Kindergarten, and the gifted and talented programs for kindergarten. Can you imagine what these grandparents would be like about COLLEGE admissions? *shudder* I SO wanted to tell them that there's different kinds of intelligence, that the kid is only 5, for Christs' sake, that it's KINDERGARTEN, no one really cares where you go for it. And gifted and talented kindergarten? We've had this conversation before. Get over yourself. (The snark in me was all, yeah, well if he's so smart, why didn't he start kindergarten at 4, like me? BAM. kidding. I don't really care. Just being obnoxious to meet them at their level.). Eventually, they left the store, with the grandmother still talking her husband's ear off about how she really wants to find out why their grandson didn't get accepted to certain schools, and I'm sure he was tuning her out by then. I just turned and looked at my coworker, speechless. I literally could not believe what had just happened, that people like that actually exist. It was like The Devil Reads Scholastic. I hope this child has more supportive parents, healthier parents. My Lord.
She's going around dogging his best friend, saying he's not as smart as he is - when, clearly, he is - geez, woman. The kid is five. If someone ever disparaged my nephew over his struggles with reading, I would throw down in a hot minute.
This woman doesn't know the courage it can take for a kid to open a book.

I miss being with my nephew even more on days like this. When I talk to him on the phone and he tells me he wants me to come home so we can get another cat in the hat book, and then I have an interaction like this one -- such a stark contrast makes me so grateful for my life and my nephew. My nephew might not be reading fluently, but he has found a niche he enjoys, and I cannot tell you how happy it makes me when he asks if it's okay to read in bed. Or when he excitedly tells me he has a diary. Or when he wants to go to the "liberry." He has a heart of pure joy and happiness, and draws in everyone who meets him with his infectious lovingkindness. You can't learn that. And that's more important than any G&T program or standardized test.

Bram Stoker must have known Manhattan parents.

Today was Lindsay's memorial service. I didn't/couldn't go. I had work and didn't plan ahead to ask off and carpool up to Buffalo. Things have just been crazy insane, it feels like, between work, reading, writing, endless fatigue and daily life chores. It's hard to explain. It's been busy.

Manhattan parents, as always, have been a source of astonishment/frustration/disgust/and then some. Can someone, PLEASE tell me the point of smash cakes? They're exactly what they sound like. For a child's first birthday, it's a small cake the child SMASHES and mashes into their face and outfit, while everyone cooes over how cute they are. And people pay top dollar to have custom-made, expensive smash cakes. Then, a dad came into the store with a bag full of Eleni's cupcakes, all frosted and sparkly and personalized Happy Birthday-ed out -- at nearly $50 for a dozen, he had at least two dozen. And he picks up a picture book for the kid. I get that you want a memorable birthday. But if you're giving your daughter a picture book, do you think she gives a shit if her cupcakes are from Eleni's? Save yourself some money and go to Magnolia Bakery. Or - gasp - just get store-bought ones. Whole Foods actually has really nice ones. If you REALLY feel like roughing it, you could make them YOURSELF. Or have the nanny do it. Sigh. I just don't get it. And you - yeah, you, the mother who loads up on workbooks for her daughter so she "has an edge" on the other kids come September? Buying books that are a grade ahead to give her that "edge?" You keep going, and she's gonna fall off that edge. Take my word for it. Or not. But it won't be pretty.
And the babies and toddlers learning Mandarin. Another thing I don't get. Is this to trot them out as shoe ponies, showing how smart they are, that they are learning a super hard, culturally sophisticated language? Wouldn't, say, Spanish, be more useful? Hell, I wish I knew Spanish.
Then -- then -- I almost lost it this morning. This morning! Early! I hear banging and smearing on the front window - these kids are jumping and then smearing their hands down the front windows, and their parents are standing RIGHT THERE, looking at them, talking to them, seemingly having a normal conversation. Honestly, I was thisclose to walking outside and asking them to control their children. I just think that's complete disregard for other's property and outright disrespect. My parents would not have tolerated that behavior with my brother and I - we don't tolerate that behavior NOW, with Trey -- and he would never even think to DO that. I just am amazed at the entitled behavior of these little monsters sometimes. Really. It's like The Nanny Diaries, but multiplied a thousand times.

Then there are the sweet grandmothers who come in and I help them find books for their granddaughters, or we talk about the original Nancy Drew mysteries, and I tell them that I read them from my grandmother. Or the kids who are so genuinely mannerly and thankful for your help.....these are the rare ones. But it's nice when it happens.

I still really don't understand the need for multiple books about giving up pacifiers or diapers. I'm not sure how I feel about the AIDS books for kids in the "special topics" section. (when did we become a society that even needs a special topics section? My favorite title in this section is "No one wants a nuclear war." NO. SHIT.). Kid, you shouldn't even know what nuclear war IS.

But there are mixed messages. We do carry the Magic Fairies series, which is cute, I admit. There's a bunch - the Weather Fairy series, the Music Fairy series, the Sports Fairy series, the Color Fairy series. All is well and good until the fucking FASHION FAIRY series. Really? Do we really have to carry this? The Accessory Fairy? The BEAUTY Fairy? If you're going to tell me that it's so important to be progressive and have Meaningful Picture Books downstairs with Deep Messages, why do we have the Fashion Fairies? This causes way more anger than it really should.
Deep breath. I just figure my kid will get stuck with Madeline, Paddington, Corduroy, Dr. Seuss, PD Eastman, Berenstein Bears, Curious George, Eric Carle books, Beatrix Potter....classics. I don't need witty "word play" books or gender-neutral characters or whatever. If you do, more power to you.

They're kind of like vampires, Manhattan parents. They suck the life and energy right out of you. And most of my college classmates are these people. Lord help me.

Lindsay (1987 - 2013)

I write this blog post not even really believing what I'm writing. My dear friend Lindsay passed away today. She had alveolar soft-part sarcoma, a very rare sarcoma that has an extremely poor prognosis. But Lindsay had such a positive attitude. She did chemo, radiation, spinal surgery, craniotomy, rehab, OT, PT -- she did what needed to be done, with a smile on her face and a belief that she would beat this. She did yoga, was into nutrition -- she did everything she could to be healthy.We either met through LiveStrong or the "crazysexycancer" nutrition message boards; I can't remember which, to be honest. For over 5 years we emailed, Facebooked, texted -- while I was in NC, she was in NY, and we vowed that if I were to move back to NYC, we'd have to get together for cupcakes. And after I moved here, she relocated to MD to be near Hopkins for her treatment. She was there so often anyway. She loved the OBX, and shared my enthusiasm for pinkberry, Sperry Top-Siders, plaid shirts, the Rolling Stones, and the South.
After her two strokes earlier this year, I knew that wasn't good, but this was Lindsay: if anyone could overcome this, it was her. Capturing the whole thing on Instagram as she went along. When I wanted DBS (deep brain stimulation) for the tremors, I had planned on going to Hopkins -- I told her this, and she was so excited that we'd finally get to meet - under less than ideal circumstances, but if anyone could put a positive spin on things, it was her. We were both sad when it turned out I probably wasn't going to go for consultations about the surgery.

And today, scrolling down my Facebook newsfeed, I see that one of our mutual friends left her a message about how she "will be missed." My breath caught in my throat and I said out loud, NONONONONO. I immediately went to Lindsay's page. It was true. She had passed away earlier today. I'm stunned. I feel like this must have been sudden, because she was doing so well. I just don't understand the Universe.
I can't even believe this is true. Sending prayers and good thoughts to her parents and two brothers.

it's wednesday.

So my tremor's gotten significantly worse, and I spoke to my movement d/o doctor today. She said that stress definitely can increase the tremors, but we need to see if the increase continues to determine whether this level of intensity is here to stay. She then told me that a colleague of hers told her about octanoic acid, or caprylic acid, which is thought to possibly mimic alcohol's effect on tremors (i.e., temporarily calm them). I found the study. It's a small study, like she told me. 19 people. The supplement started to work nearly three hours after taken. But it worked. For some. So I went to the Vitamin Shoppe and bought the stupid supplement. I don't even want to get my hopes up, because if it doesn't work, I'll be even more disappointed.

I thought I would be back in Chapel Hill. I thought that being down South would have a calming effect on my whole body, inside and out, my stress levels, my happiness, etc. -- which would translate into a reduction or disappearance of the tremors. I was kind of banking on North Carolina being the remedy. But obviously, I need to reframe. I'm trying to minimize my stress levels, but that hasn't really been working lately, obviously.

My grandparents bought me an air conditioner, which feels like a delicious luxury here in NYC. Makes me never want to leave the house even more.

thought for the day.

Carolina. That is all.

again, people.

For the love of G-d. I just keep reminding myself to take deep breaths. Manhattan parents, I just cannot even. There was a father today with a little girl - she couldn't have been more more than four, five at the very, very most - and he asked for suggestions. So naturally, I suggested Fancy Nancy or Pinkalicious. Apparently she has all the Pinkalicious books already, and after looking at the glittery Fancy Nancy book, he said he doesn't want her to read more of "this stuff." Okay. I suggested Clifford, the big red dog. Nope, she has read ALL of those. How about Dr.Seuss? Yup, she's gone through those. All of them. Every single one. I suggested the Curious George series. The genius has read all of those. She's also read "The Velveteen Rabbit," every Madeline book, dad voted down "The Giant Dance Party" without even looking at it...get the hell out of here. If she's read every single one, get this girl a goddamn medal. He just wanted to get something so he could feel morally and intellectually superior so he wasn't buying a book about Caillou from Canada or a big red dog. The little girl would have been happy with anything. Although, really, she seemed pretty passive and didn't show attraction to anything but Pinkalicious when it was mentioned. What these parents don't seem to get is that no reading is in vain. You don't get  it, do you, people? Foster your child's interest. Make it fun. If they show an attraction to a book, take a look at it - don't dismiss it because it's not "intellectual" - if you show disdain, your kid will subconsciously pick up on that. Every time. Believe me. Even if they don't quite know what that feeling is.

There were maybe 3 or 4 kids who actually thanked their parents when they bought the books for them. It's sad when that's an anomaly. There were the few kids who were very sweet and said please and thank you and they were a joy, as were their parents. I wish there were more of them.

I know I sound crotchety and old, but seriously, the entitlement is just way too much. It's not even that - it's lack of basic manners and social skills. But what should I expect when parents actually don't even let the person in front of them put their change in their wallet before putting their own purchases in front of the person, practically forcing them out of the way. There are the parents who come up to the side of the desk while I am still helping the person in front of them - and they'll shove their stuff onto the table! Basic line etiquette, people. I thought we learned that in preschool, no? Or did we have to go to the gifted and talented preschool for that? Oh, snap. 

I also think maybe the whole competitive, driven academic thing is nagging me. I have been a gunner my entire life. Meaning I have been competitive in classes. Always doing the readings. Raising my hand. Honors classes. Honor Roll. Everything depended on it. And then in grad school, at UNC, everything depended on getting into a PhD program. And when I didn't, my entire world as I knew it dissolved. I had no idea who I was. I worked freelance and nannied for 2 years, and then applied to the MFA programs. At 30, I finally let go of the need to try and be the best. (and yes, I get the irony that I wound up at Columbia).  Maybe I've failed. Maybe I haven't. It's all in who's seeing the picture, I guess.

Another thing I don't get is this phenomenon of parents buying a gift for a child on the way to said child's birthday party. They have waited until they are en route to the party to get a gift. Making it essential that they get out of the store quickly. With the present wrapped. In the good ole' days, we used to go ahead of time and pick out a present, really take time with the decision, and then wrap it at home. I just don't understand this. Does this happen everywhere or just here? Is it a generational thing?

If I sound cranky, I am. I'm tired. I'm still not physically 100%. I have made absolutely no progress on my thesis because I'm always so tired or blah. My tremors are especially pronounced lately. My next appt is at the end of June, but what's the movement disorder dr going to do? There is no more medication to try. Klonopin dulls the tremors a little, but to see any real improvement, I have to take a full pill, which knocks me out, which does not bode well for taking it during the day. And it has a long half-life, so even if I take it at night, I have that "hung-over" and super tired feeling the next day, which is a bummer. And people, benzos are addictive substances. As Nancy Reagan taught me, "Just say no to drugs."

But parents, here's a gifted kid pro-tip: In the real world, people don't really give a shit if you're "gifted" or not. So along with buying whatever book you're buying, teach your child to say please and thank you. And I promise - promise - your child will not disintegrate if you tell her "no" to something. Hard as it may be to believe, it is, in fact, true. If you don't feel comfortable trying it at home, do it in a public place first, just in case.

what a day.

So.....staying in NY. Working (at a job I love, a kids/YA/teacher/parent bookstore), trying to write my thesis, reading a lot. My paternal grandmother passed away, making that three family members I have lost in less that a year and a half. Trying to find an angle into an essay on that. Still on one medication for tremors, at the lowest possible dose. I'm trying not to let the tremors interfere too much, but sometimes scanning things or in stressful situations they get bad. At least they did today.

Manhattan parenting....yeah. Getting an inside view. It's stressing me out, and I'm not even the kid. I don't know. I could never raise a child here. Parents are buying $50 books to get their children ready to take tests to get into Gifted and Talented Kindergarten. What could you possibly do in GAT kindergarten? Learn relaxation techniques during nap time? Meditate? And really, will that make a difference in your child's educational career path? I would wager a guess and say probably not. And honestly, if you keep pushing and pushing and pushing.....have you ever seen the movie "Little Man Tate?" Great example. A kid needs to know they're not *just* their achievements. They need to be allowed to screw up and read silly things and do messy projects and sometimes do things below their age level that they just love. A kid can only take so much pushing. Really. Because eventually, they'll internalize it and do it themselves, thankyouverymuch, and though this is good to an extent, if your self-esteem and identity is built around it, this can be not so great. Drive is wonderful, huge fear of failure is not.

Not every book has to Have a Message. Sometimes it can just be fun, like Pinkalicious. It's just important to instill a love of reading in the kid. Give the Intellectual Stimulation a break.
I read Madeline as a child and was not traumatized because she was an orphan.
I read Clifford the Big Red Dog and am not dumb because it's more "commercial."
I read the Berenstein Bears and am not morally deficient because they "don't always send the right message."
Christ, I read about Rainbow Brite and Strawberry Shortcake and My Little Ponies. I think I turned out okay. People are amazed at how much I read. This is why. Because I learned to love it at an early age. And, I happened to be good at it. It was/is My Thing.

If reading isn't your kid's thing or doesn't come easily, that's okay - my brother was/is an excellent artist and great with putting things back together. Not to mention he's much more logical than I am. Being smart manifests in all different kinds of ways. I wish I could remind some of these parents of that.

NY under water.

Water. New York City. Jaime. Which of these is not like the others and does not belong? That's right!!!! Jaime!!!!! I am especially bitter today because it has been a *very* rainy day, and I hate when it rains in the city. But I had been running errands/getting prescriptions filled/etc when it started to thunder, and I just had to pick up a few things at the market....I figured I'd beat the rain home. Now, West Side Market on a GOOD day makes me lose faith in humanity. Try getting stuck inside with a horde of other people, including people who have run in off the sidewalk to escape the apocalyptic rainstorm. After about 20 minutes, when it seemed to be easing up a little, I opened my umbrella, slid my bag of overpriced groceries onto my wrist, and held the umbrella directly in front of my chest, since that seemed to provide the most protection with this rain. The whole walk home you can imagine what I was muttering.

Then I decided to do laundry. I put my clothes in a washer, add soap, pay for it, and then a guy tells me he just washed his in that washer, but it didn't wring out all the water so he has to rewash them. Since I already paid for it, I was like, okay, I'll take my chances. Well, whaddaya know? Same thing. I have the brilliant idea of bringing it upstairs to dry on the drying rack. Do you KNOW how heavy a load of wet laundry is? So I'm hanging stuff on the rack, thinking, this might work, when I realize there is a small ocean under the drying rack, and my clothes are saturated. I grabbed towels, wiped the whole mess up, threw the clothes in the bag, and went back DOWN to the laundry room to rewash my clothes. I pay for this privilege.

You know, if I had been stuck somewhere down South, people would have started talking with each other. Here? Nope, everyone's glued to their iPhones, posting updates and texting and talking to people.  People are pushing each other aside to get a little more room for themselves and their bags. Everyone on their own little island. Sometimes in situations like that, I find myself almost starting a conversation with someone - and then I realize it would be weird here. Sigh.

wrinkles in time.

I am sitting here on my bed, listening to Birdy, Ke$ha, and James Taylor on my iPhone, surrounded by books - ARCs, school books for the make-up classes I have next week, and books on childhood literature. There's also one I bought today that I keep picking up, running my hands over the shiny cover, and hesitate to actually start reading. The book is the 50th anniversary edition of Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time. I vaguely remember reading this as a young girl, and loving it -- yet I hesitate to start it again, as if by opening its pages, I'll open up a tesseract of my own. What is it about these books we love from our childhood that stay with us all these years? I remember wanting to sleep over in the museum after reading From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. I wasn't a huge fan of The Phantom Tollbooth, sad to say. I loved Scott O'Dell's Island of the Blue Dolphins. But what is it about L'Engle's book that is giving me such pause? It's just a book, Jaime, not a magical portal. I wonder if it will come back to me once I start reading it. This is the magic of books. This is why I want to be a writer.