Tag Archives: teenagers

Word of the Day: Zappos

I love Zappos, the mail-order shoe company. You pick out shoes on-line (searchable by color, heel-height, style….) and they are delivered OVERNIGHT! Amazing.

So effusive were my raves of Zappos, that Lewis decided to order soccer cleats on-line. “The ones I have now are too small,” he said, “and tryouts are this weekend.” Lewis’ cleats were size 8 1/2 – so I ordered the next size up. When they arrived the next afternoon, he pounced on the box, pulled out the cleats and tried to wedge in his feet. No dice. cleats

“But mom, I need them by Sunday!” he wailed. We ordered the next size up and they arrived with the same expedience as the previous pair. And again, they were too small.

They say the third time’s a charm and indeed it was. The third pair of Pumas, delivered to our door a half hour before tryouts, was like the bowl of porridge in Goldilocks and the Three Bears…just right. Of course, he will outgrow them before the season even starts.

barefeet

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Word of the Day: Spawn


The difference between having teenagers and having toddlers or babies is that teenagers like to sleep. They are a little like vampires – they go out after dark and then sleep for most of the daylight hours. Teens shun activities that take place before noon – especially activities that involve being seen in public with their mothers. That is why none of my children showed much enthusiasm when I suggested that we get up at dawn and go to the Mystic River dam to participate in a town tradition called “The Herring Bucket Brigade.” Heck with ’em. If my kids didn’t want to be with me, I knew that I would be welcome by the herring.

Herring (which until yesterday, I had only seen pickled in sour cream sauce) leave the ocean and swim upstream to the lakes in our town where they marry and lay eggs. The only hindrance is a dam which prevents them from reaching the choicest spawning grounds. The role of the Bucket Brigade is to scoop the herring into buckets and hoist them over the dam.

So, instead of my kids, I summoned my friend Beate (Bee-ah-tah), also a mother of teens, and together we snuck off for a morning devoted to scooping herring and hoisting them in buckets over the dam where they could experience connubial bliss and then die.

It was wet and it was really early. But we were rewarded with the thanks of the burly Fish and Wildlife guy and free donuts and coffee. After a hour of saving hundreds of fish, we returned to our own sleeping spawn.

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