06.20.11

Monday Dare: Practicing the five-letter word

Every Monday, I’m picking from the List of Things to Do, Places to Go, Possible Acts that Help, and Possible Fun to Have. It’s a list I made before The Projectstarted, and I’m still adding to it. If you have suggestions, please feel free to throw them my way. I’m calling the list my Monday Dares, as I get overwhelmed just looking at the words “challenge” or “goal.”

This week: My Name is Earl Elizabeth (a.k.a. fixin’ the wrong I done to people).

I was going to start this off with an introduction about four-letter words. Words like “damn” and “shit” and “sorry.” Then I realized that “sorry” is actually a five-letter word. I hate it when words trick me.

Do you remember the TV show, “My Name is Earl”? The one where the main character, Earl, believes a series of unfortunate events happens to him because he’s piled up a lot of bad karma by not making amends for all the wrong he’s done in his life? Each episode, he tracks down a person he’s wronged and offers to make it up any way the victim sees fit.

Since my only two talents are swearing and making mistakes, if I fully commit to the “My Name is Earl Elizabeth” challenge, it could take years. So, I’m making a short list. #1: My mom.

My parents didn’t have a matching set of bedroom furniture until I was in my teens. The nightstand came from this person, and the headboard came from that person, and the ugly-as-sin dresser came from another person. My mom finally took the plunge and bought a five-piece bedroom set from our local Levitz. The mahogany-like veneer promised “the look of elegance without the expensive price tag.” It was pretty pimpin’.

Shortly after the furniture was delivered, I laid out all the essentials for a home spa manicure on my mom’s new dresser. Before I even started, my elbow knocked over the uncapped bottle of nail polish remover and spilled its contents everywhere. When I tried to wipe it off, the acetone spread and removed even more varnish from the dresser.

I did what I thought was best. I ran.

When my mom questioned me about the damage, I played dumb. She never asked me again or accused me. My mom kept that dresser for ten years. Maybe she figured I would confess when I was ready. I’m just sorry that she gave me so much credit. My name is Earl Elizabeth, and I’m calling my mom today. Even if it doesn’t make a difference, I feel like I should own my mistake…finally.
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Would you apologize for something you’ve done in your past, even years later? Anything in particular?
Or, has anyone ever tracked you down to say “I’m sorry”? Did it make a difference?

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image via knockknock.biz

June 20, 2011
06.16.11

The $238 Vacation

Summer vacation started Monday. I’m already out of ideas. Help.

Before I got married 4 years ago, I was always on a tight budget as a single mom. And by “tight,” I mean there usually wasn’t five dollars to spare after paying for a bunch of shit like the electricity bill and food. But every year, I planned a Mother & Daughter trip, even if I had to be really creative. And by “really creative,” I mean cheap.

The year she turned six, I took Cal on a 3 days/ 2 nights Mother & Daughter trip to Las Vegas. For $238. Other parents take their kids to Disneyland or the Kennedy Space Center. Me, I took my kid to Vegas. You’re very welcome, Cal. We drove from Los Angeles and stayed at the Rio ($49 a night midweek special). Aside from a splurge to see the Shark Reef Aquarium at Mandalay Bay ($30 for 2 tickets), we spent most of our trip walking around The Strip and enjoying the free attractions. We oohed and aahed at the Bellagio fountains, walked through the M&M store, admired the talking statues inside Caesar’s Palace, and waved at the newly-married couples riding the gondolas in the Venetian.

I may or may not have saved on the cost of food during our trip by lying to the cashier at the Rio buffet and telling her that Cal had already eaten beforehand, so there would be no need to charge for her meal. I may or may not have spent the rest of the meal sneaking food to my kid, hoping not to get caught. I’m only going to admit I actually did this if you promise not to call PETA. Wait, PETA is for animals.  There is only a one letter difference between “Cal” and “cat,” so I can see how you could be confused. Okay, so don’t call CPA on me. Hold on, that’s for accountants or something. Just don’t call the people who come and tell you you’re a shitty parent, all right?

I did make up for the buffet lie though. I let Cal order a $6 grapefruit through room service the next morning. She still talks about her first room service experience. For $6, I hope it was an excellent piece of citrus.

This year, as a family of three, we’re taking a vacation in July. There’s a good chance we won’t be doing a Mother & Daughter trip.

I’d still like to show her a good time, even if we can’t go away, just the two of us. I’m already out of ideas. Clearly, it’s poor planning on my part. On Tuesday, as an activity to get out of the house, I took Cal to get a donut…30 minutes away. It took longer to drive to Krispy Kreme and back than it did to sit and enjoy our donuts and milk.

So, I need your brains. I’d love some ideas on what to do with a tween. And if you suggest Six Flags, all I have to say is: Well played, my friend, well played.

image via blueq.com
June 16, 2011