Education of SubWife

I have lived in US for the past thirteen years, and I think I have adapted well. But every now and then certain facts/things/cultural info come to my attention that are completely new to me; the info that anyone natural born knows, but no book ever mentions because, like I said, everyone is supposed to know this before they stop wearing diapers. Maybe they give out this info in labor rooms, but unless someone tells you, you won't know or deduce it.

Today was one of those days when I found out something new. What is this pearl of American fashion wisdom (or maybe universal fashion wisdom, I am just no aware)? That pink and red don't match, and to be more precise they clash. And according to my American born and raised friend, with whom I had an honor to go kids' clothes shopping, this piece of fashion truth (?) is very common knowledge. Well, they didn't teach that in ESL classes, high school or college. It wasn't on my citizenship exam. Quite frankly, I was shocked, and my friend was shocked in return that I didn't know. In any case, tt would've never occurred to me on my own! I am quite sure I didn't dress DD or myself this way because I am not a big fan of pink and like red even less, so at least I didn't traumatize my little fashionista that way. But if no one had ever told me, it was only a matter of time until my child would commit this fashion faux pas because of her mother's ignorance. Basically, I was a ticking fashion bomb.

So thank G-d for my American friend who detonated this bomb in time. But I still don't know if it's just me, the poor uneducated in fashion foreigner, or someone else didn't know this either. Is this an American mishugas or a universally held standard of beauty? Your feedback would be very much appreciated.

P.S. I am pretty sure that DD has a pink and red striped sweater from Children's Place. What's up with that? You can wear pink and red in one piece, but a skirt/shirt combo with those same colors is a no-no? Am I being too logical about this? Someone please educated me!

Patience, young Jedi!

Before I had children, I thought I had lots of patience. I could deal with the most obnoxious client without losing my cool, I could discuss with our landlord for forty five minutes as to why portable washing machine of the 21st century was more than a bucket with a motor, and could babysit 6 kids several nights in a row without raising my voice even once. After I had DD, my belief in my never-ending patience only got stronger. After all, it is hard to lose it when the kid is less than one.

And then, with that mistaken assumption, I entered the world of a parent with more than one child. Within the first week of DS's birth, I realized that I am not so thick-skinned after all. After DD tried to touch baby's eyes and feed him her cereal repeatedly, I found myself raising my voice more and more often. And even then I could remember thinking that it was just a phase and will pass. After all, I was Miss Patience.

And then, DS reached the age when he started understanding things, and the myth of my patience along with the remnants of that patience, were completely shuttered. Hard and cold truth was shown to me: I have no patience. At all. I thought that I did because no one had ever tested it so thoroughly. Lately, and I must have blogged about it before, but once again I didn't know the lows I could reach then, I find myself screaming all the time when dealing with my children. Not just raising my voice, but shrieking with that disgusting high pitch that makes flowers wilt, husbands wince, myself nauseous and kids... it make my kids laugh. Which makes me yell louder, and them laughing harder, and thus the vicious circle is born.

Why am I yelling? After all, I have discovered that it is completely ineffective, especially at this point when it turned into a background noise for the kids. Do I have no self-control or at the very least self-respect? Why do I find myself in the middle of another mess, probably quite normal for the children of their age, nauseatingly screaming before I even give myself a chance to think? Because if I gave myself a chance to think, I definitely would've come up with something more effective. After all, I did take parenting classes, read parenting books and exchanged parenting techniques with more educated/experience parents. I have no answers.

And now, when they are falling asleep and I am typing away this entry, I feel miserable. I feel like a total failure as a mother and a human being. I know it will pass, but for now it is there. It might seem like cheating or taking and easy way out, but if there were a pill out there that would force me to keep my mouth shut for the first 10-15 seconds after I discover another mischief, I would take it. Simply for the benefit of my kids. But I am not aware of such a pill, so I have to find another answer...

Murders.

This one is a true confession. Oh, no. I haven't murdered anyone, but I have been thinking about murders, well, not real ones. Ok, here's the reason why I will probably never amount to anything in life. When ambitious people think about ways to further their careers, philanthropists think of ways to save the world, gluttons think of new ways to satisfy their appetite, I think about this. Ready?

Have you ever read Agatha Christie or watched Murder, She Wrote? I have been a huge fan of both and the genre over all. But then I always had this nagging question: how did these supposedly regular folks like Miss Marple or Jessica Fletcher come across so many murders in a just few year span? Statistically, one is very unlikely to come across a real murder in her entire life unless she is a cop, ER doctor or nurse, or lives in Detroit. Not a single one of these is true for either amateur sleuth I mentioned. The only other option that would make sense is that these ladies were serial murderers and killed all those folks. And had an amazing power of persuasion or/and a personal relationship with the chief of police to frame someone else. Even if I am wrong, think about it. Especially in Murder, She Wrote, Jessica lives in a very small town. After all the murders that took place during the eleven year run of the show, the town's population should've gone down to three people: Jessica, chief of police and the doc. Because everyone else would've been either murdered or jailed for murder! Think about it: people move to these small towns to avoid crime and THERE! someone is murdered! And the next week again, and again, and again, until the show goes on hiatus. I guarantee you, in real life there would be no one to murder in season two because every one else would've moved back to Detroit, for their own safety (whether to avoid being murdered or caught for it).

I feel better after I got this off my chest... Feel free to judge...

Memories

I have good news and I have bad news.

Good news is that American pre-teens and teens actually read books, for pleasure. At least they are expected to if the subject interests them enough. That’s what a certain company is counting on by signing a seven-figure deal with Miley Cyrus (for those not in the know, like myself only two weeks ago, Miley stars in some extremely popular Disney show). The deal is for publishing Miley’s – ready for bad news? – memoirs! Let me repeat this – 15-yr old girl. To write memoirs. For seven figures. Unless that 15-yr old found cure for cancer, fought the Nazis or did something otherwise remarkable (and starring in a show that is almost a guaranteed success is not remarkable in my book), what is there to write about? The age when she was potty-trained? Which diapers her parents preferred for her? The pain of losing baby teeth?

Well, I know enough to realize that she actually won’t write the book, somebody with more writing talent and life experience will… Nevertheless, I find it pretty disturbing… Expecially that it is an almost guaranteed best-seller.