Making Pancakes

     Earnhardt is almost twelve. That means he's 8 in girl years, right? When I was almost twelve, I was being paid a dollar an hour to watch my three cousins, one who was only a few years younger than I. We broke a fish tank. That gig ended after that.
      Occasionally I test the theory that Earnhardt might be old enough to babysit his younger brother, Carson. I go grocery shopping and leave him in charge, things like that. I recently tried an experiment and had them get their own lunch while I was away. I'm thinking PB&J sandwiches....
     Over the phone: "So, did you guys have lunch?" Yeah. "What did you have?" Pancakes. "What??" I made pancakes. "Huh? You did?" Yeah, but we didn't have enough Bisquick so I kind of had to wing it.
"What do you mean, 'wing it'?" Well, I wasn't sure how much flour and whether to use baking powder or baking soda... "What did the recipe say?" It didn't say on the Bisquick box so I just tried to remember. "Huh? Did you use a recipe?" No. "No?" No, I just tried to remember how Um-Um (Joel's mom) did it when she made pancakes so I put in a cup and a half of flour, half a cup of sugar, two eggs, milk... "Wait, you made pancakes from scratch? Without a recipe???" Yeah. But I wasn't sure about the baking powder or baking soda so I didn't put either in and they came out a little dense but they're still good. We saved you some. "Thanks. (I think) Dense?" We saved you ones without the Goldfish and marshmallows. "What?" I put Goldfish and marshmallows in them.

      I'd like to say this says something about me as a parent. That this kid of mine not only attempted to cook for his little brother but made something from scratch without a recipe. He's spent some time with me (and Um-Um) in the kitchen. He's confident with himself and the stove. He's responsible. He likes marshmallows. I'd like to say I taught him that confidence, that responsibility, that vocabulary... but I think, instead, it says something about me as a kid. I never would have attempted such a fete at his age. I wouldn't have gone near the stove. I probably would have waited for mom to come home and complained about how hungry I was. I would have just gotten by.  I certainly didn't know what dense meant.

     Maybe, just maybe Earnhardt's generation isn't as bad off as I once thought, not being able to survive without cell phones and X-box, Kindles and computers, Froot Loops and Pop Tarts. Maybe they can still be taught, if not hard-wired, to make more than toast. Maybe he'll be able to do laundry before he reaches college. Already he asks me, each and every day, how my day was when I pick him up from school. I wrack my brain trying to remember what I had for dinner as a kid, what I did to help out around the house, when I learned certain life lessons and I usually draw a blank and yet somehow I feel like my own two boys are packing away every piece of information like this. I say this because I get quizzed on it daily; "Do you remember when, Mommy, you dropped me off at Lisa's house to take Earnhardt to the theatre and she made gingerbread men with me?" "Do you remember when I didn't want to go to Nana's and stay over night that time and you said I had to because you had something to do and I was okay?" "Do you remember the time Daddy had the keys to the Tahoe and we walked to McDonald's?" I do remember and I wonder what else they remember. How else they are watching and learning from what I'm doing? It makes me realize I need to be especially careful now that I see I'm under such scrutiny. I think I might be a role model and it makes me wonder if I might be able to take a little credit for their wonderful little selves in the long run.   

Want My Identity?

     Not that long ago my mother and I were at the counter in JC Penney making a purchase. The saleslady behind the counter did what salesladies so often do and tried to entice my mother to sign up for a store credit card, offering her more savings on her purchase if she did. My mother was not going for it. She was very reluctant. The saleslady told her exactly how much she would save once approved. I goaded my mother into taking the bait. We, the saleslady and I, were this close to signing mom up for the credit card and then the lady requested my mother to use the "pin pad" to enter her social security number into the computer. Mom put on the brakes, for good. She wasn't having it. She didn't like the idea of entering her social security number for JC Penney or anybody.
     It wasn't until we got back home did mom explain that she was concerned about identity theft.
"C'mon, mom, really, who's gonna want your identity anyway? You're a 69 year old woman with cancer and three crummy kids. Nobody is gonna want to be YOU!"
     Of course I say this with tongue and cheek. Of course I know what identity theft is and that it's a horrible crime. But it makes you think. Identity theft is all about the numbers; your social security number, your bank account number, your credit card numbers and I suppose we gave this particular theft the most convenient name we could think of. But these numbers; they are not really our identity. Whatever numbers you can steal from me would not change my friends, those I love or who I really am...my identity.
     My friend, Jay, and I recently joked about if someone were to hack our computers; they'd take from us the recent list of emails of cast members in the upcoming show, our brand new Angry Birds Space (which we both agree is more frustrating than fun), and maybe our recent credit card statements which you can feel free to pay off for us if you wish.
     It's not that I don't take identity theft seriously; it's that I query the phraseology used to describe the crime. My identity is summed up in what I do, the company I keep, how I spend my time, not my dollars. My friends aren't famous and don't have expensive cars and vacation homes, but they're there whenever I need them and sometimes when I don't think I do. I don't have any glamorous job but I'm lucky enough to get on stage a few times a year and do my soul the favor of putting on a costume and challenging myself to learn a bookful of lines. I don't have an enviable lifestyle but it offers me time to spend with my kids and husband, my mom and dad, my family and friends and sometimes, time all to myself... I guess you can't steal all that from me, but now I'm beginning to see why you'd want to.