Dear Mr. Murdoch,

Thank you for not laying me off, for another year.

Here's hoping that I will be thanking you for this at the end of 2010 as well.

I am a bit concerned, because I work for a free Web site you happened to get when you bought the rest of Cow Bones -- and you are now taking a very strong stand against giving news away for free.

I very much hope you are like a man who complains that he hates cats because they are useless freeloaders -- and specifically means the fat house cats who lie around mooching all day, and not the working cats who are out there killing rodents.

Honestly, I try hard to kill all the rodents I can in life, both literally and metaphorically.

And I will continue to try hard in the new year, too.

Gratefully yours,

L.

Incensed on Xmas

I managed to get all three kids to go to 4:00 mass with me on Xmas Eve. Maybe you saw us there, at the children's mass? My kids were the only ones not dressed up.

We were sitting right in front, too. We usually try to grab one of the front pews, because Little Son behaves exponentially better when he can see what's going on.

Little Son had school yesterday (and today, too), so he wore his school clothes -- jeans and a turtleneck. Big Son wore cargo pants and a hoodie, and Daughter wore her "skinny" jeans, sweatshirt and new boots.

I dressed up, which for me, means wearing lipstick and a necklace. Otherwise, I wore my "ninja suit," some variety of which I wear almost every day: black pants, black shirt, black sweater, black socks, black shoes. It is very easy for me to get most of my clothes to match.

Jeans are usually just fine at the Franciscan Chapel Center in Tokyo. However, I don't know why, but at our church on Christmas Eve, Catholics all turn into Mormons or something. Suddenly, many of the women are in skirts, the men have collared shirts and ties, and the little girls are wearing those dresses that look like old ladies' lampshades.

It honestly never occurred to me to dress up. I'm not even sure my kids have nice clothes at this point in time. We are a very.....informal family. In every way. In the spring, Little Son will don a button shirt for his first communion, but I have no intention of buying him a jacket or tie unless I happen to find them cheap at a recycle shop.

The priest last night was Father R., whom I was relieved to see was wearing his usual earthy-crunchy sandals with no socks. I was also glad to notice that one of the alter girls had Converse high-tops peaking out below her robes.

Anyway, who cares what people wore? It was nice that I got all of my kids to go to church with me on Xmas, and not just the younger one whom I still control, but the two teenagers, too -- I think I can round Daughter's age up to "teenage," since she will only be 12 for a few more weeks.

Last year, I went to church by myself on Xmas Eve, and was so lonely I had trouble not crying. The boys wouldn't go with me, and Hub and Daughter were still in Tokyo, and didn't get back to SF until after Xmas.

Also, um....no one invited us anywhere for Xmas last year, despite all the not-too-subtle hints I dropped about what a lonely Xmas it would be for us. All of our SF friends were busy with their own families, and my own blood relatives -- my parents and my brother -- didn't pick up on any of my hints. It was my last Xmas in North America, and it really sucked.

Well, actually, I admit, just going to church alone sucked. That was a mistake. But after that, I went home and had a decent time hanging out with my boys, and then Hub and Daughter arrived soon after Xmas, and our belated holiday began. So in retrospect, I shouldn't complain -- we were able to get together and have a great family time AFTER Xmas.

Anyway....back to the title of this post. Father R. went a little nuts with the incense last night. It was supposed to be a children's mass, so I wondered why he thought it was a good idea to fill the church up with smoke?

I usually like incense, in moderation. But last night, my eyes starting burning and I started coughing and wheezing -- and regretting sitting in the front row. That was me, fanning the smoke away with my Xmas music papers, and wincing whenever he threw another pinch of it into the smoking bowl, which looked just like a giant ashtray.

Just as I was fearing carbon monoxide poisoning, someone finally opened the windows.

"I was worried you were trying to smoke out the infidels," I said to him on the way out after mass.

One other thing worth mentioning about the mass -- there were two tiny kids, a boy and a girl, both of whom appeared to be under 2. They were dressed in their Christmas finest, and quite adorable indeed. Their mother (or aunt, or older sister, or nanny -- who knows) was actively participating in the mass, reading and singing, and letting her kids run free -- and they both ran up on the alter. Other tiny kids climbed up there, too, but their accompanying adults discreetly shooed them back down.

I consider myself a "detachment parent," but....I am not sure I would have been comfortable letting my kids run around on the alter like that, even at a children's mass. However, I am not criticizing the mother (or aunt, or older sister, or nanny -- whoever she was), or shaking my head, or saying, "tut-tut-tut" -- I'm just saying that I think I probably would have let my tiny kids run around in the aisles, or in front of the alter, but not up on the alter itself.

And that mother (or aunt, or older sister, or nanny) might have been looking across the church, at MY family, and thinking, "I am not sure I would be comfortable letting my kids wear such informal clothes to mass on Christmas Eve."

It's all relative, you know?

Anyway, that was our Xmas church experience. You'll notice I am referring to it as "Xmas," not "Christmas." That's because we're in Japan, where Xmas is a wonderful non-religious holiday. Sure, it sucks that the kids have school, but you can go around saying, "Merry Xmas!" to everyone, without worrying about being un-PC and offending the non-Christians. Heck, most people in this country aren't Christian, and they get into the "Let's-get-together-and-have-a-nice-time" spirit.

This has been one of the happiest Xmases my family has had in years.

We are together, and no one is particularly upset about anything, for now.

Happiness like this is fragile, and must be appreciated.

-------------------------

Incensed on Xmas, Part II

Back to the title of this post. I have to weigh in on the Mommyblogger attack, on Shellie Ross, the woman who Tweeted while her 2-year old son fell into the family's pool and drowned. You can Google her name and read more if you want to -- I'm not going to link it here.

Nor am I going to link to the blog of one Madison McGraw, another blogger, who doesn't know Ross in real life but is getting gobs of attention for blaming the death on the fact that the mom was Tweeting instead of watching her son.

It bugs me that she would pick on a woman whose little son is dead, and who is going to have to live with this for the rest of her life.

It also bugs me that McGraw said, "I hope Mr. Ross throws the computer down the steps." That's right -- it takes a MAN to knock some sense into that stupid woman who spent too much time on the computer and allowed her kid to drown, instead of watching him. Just destroy that computer! And while you're at it, take away all her shoes, too, so she won't be able to leave the house -- that will force her to keep her priorities straight!

You know what this reminds me of? When we were in Tokyo before, a 6-year old boy tragically died in a freak accident at Roppongi Hills, when an automatic door closed on his head in front of his horrified mother.

The poor mother was VILIFIED -- by bloggers, by the media, even by parents I knew personally -- for not watching the boy closely enough. They said she should have been holding his hand, and not letting him walk by himself, because you know, automatic doors can just malfunction at any moment, and if one happens to close on your kid's head, tough luck -- it's all on YOU, if you are not vigilant 100% of the time.

Ironically, 6 is the age when Japanese children start first grade, and are EXPECTED to walk to school ALL BY THEMSELVES --- but no one saw this contradiction. I guess it just felt right to some people, to blame it all on the mother.

I didn't know the mother personally, but as the mother of kids around her late son's age, I found myself passionately defending her to anyone who said anything bad about her. I thought, there but for the grace of God go I, and my own free-range kids.

So, if I am allowed one Christmas wish this year (and I'll even put the name of the deity back in the holiday when I write this, for good measure), it's for parents that have lost children, and been judged for it -- may they find peace, and leave the judging for God.

Or, if you don't happen to believe in God, for....no one. Just leave them alone.

You win some, you lose some.

Hub thought I was a terrible mother for telling Big Son to take the airport bus home from Narita by himself.

Hub was going to go meet him. We don't have a car, and the 90-minute bus ride costs 3,000 yen -- more than 30 bucks -- each way. We have taken this bus many times, so Big Son knew exactly where to buy a bus ticket and where to wait for the bus.

I pointed out to Hub that when one of my great-grandfathers was 15, he emigrated to America from Poland by himself, traveling on foot [at night -- sleeping in haystacks during the day] from the family farm outside Warsaw to Amsterdam, where he stowed away on an ocean liner bound for New York.

I figured that 14-and-half-year-old Big Son could take a bus across Tokyo. Besides, money is short and we could use the 6,000 yen for something else, like a nice family dinner in a restaurant.

Or.....new glasses for Hub, as it turned out.

Wednesday was a national holiday here, the Emperor's birthday. Hub went drinking with his boss the night before, and uncharacteristically had a few too many.

His glasses fell off on his way home, and he.....stepped on them. And broke the frames.

So hungover Hub had to go buy new glasses. Fortunately, he found a discount pair that cost only a little more than the money he saved on the airport bus ticket.

Here's the funny part: Hub rationalized the whole thing by saying, "I had been meaning to get new glasses, anyway."

Big Son and I noted that his new glasses were almost exactly like his old ones.

"You were meaning to get THE SAME GLASSES? You thought, gee, these are getting old, I think I'll look for a pair EXACTLY LIKE THEM?" -- both of us said this. Poor Hub was outnumbered.

"You sound like a manzai team! I cannot put up with your voices in my head!" said hungover Hub, who then slunk away.

Sorry, no sympathy for self-inflicted misery!

I am not in my usual harsh mood, though -- I am done with work for the year. I am not going back until Jan. 4. And I have a few blessed days to rest, before I have to do in-law duty.

----------------------------

Here is my final column of the year, in which I snuck in a reference to an old woman in my former neighborhood who figured very prominently in my pre-married life in Tokyo. I don't know if I am supposed to use the first-person pronoun in my columns, but I figured I could slip it in during the holidays.

Disappoint-Your-Daughter-at-Work Day

I was too run-down to blog last Friday, but I thought I ought to say, for the record, that I brought Daughter to work with me, and she seemed.....not so favorably impressed.

She had finished her exams and has started her winter break (except for some weird supplementary classes on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, go figure) and she was BORED. It took her a few days to watch all the DVDs in our house several times, and there are only so many naps a human being can possibly take.

So she eagerly asked me, "Can I come and see what you do at work every day, Mama? Pleeeeeeeease?"

How could I refuse? I knew almost-13-year old Daughter would be quiet as a mouse and not bother anyone, and there's an empty desk right next to me in the new office. Plus, I was filling in for the little boss on Friday, publishing the Web site, so I figured there would actually be something for Daughter to see.

But kids today....sigh. They're just so tech-savvy, that nothing impresses them.

I showed her how I link videos and photos, and layout the front page, and write the headlines. It occurred to me that she does very similar things on her Facebook page everyday. She feigned polite interest, but I could sense her eyes glazing over.

"Look, I'm about to send an email bulletin alert to hundreds of thousands of people!" I said, after the Bank of Japan rate decision.

But she was asleep in her chair.....and snoring.

She did like the view from the 19th floor. And the highlight of the day was when I took her out to a place in Kanda that sells green-tea flavored ice cream cones.

Oh well. I tried.

I hope, at the very least, that she's impressed that my job pays her tuition bills, and helps put food on our table every night.

Family, Complete

Big Son is HOME. I hugged him hard, even though he smelled bad.

Boarding school seems to have improved his manners (he is full of "please's" and "thank you's" so far), but not his personal hygiene. I am washing his laundry now, and if that doesn't work, I am burning it -- and I made him take a shower before I gave him any food.

Little Son's leg is better. But then he forgets he injured it, and steps the wrong way, and winces. The doctors indeed guess it was a pulled muscle, and told us to watch it and see how it goes -- so he has been hobbling around with a big happy smile on his face, like our very own Tiny Tim.

The doctors were concerned about the swollen lymph node, but pointed out several other swollen lymph nodes over his body, so it's unlikely they're related to the mystery leg injury. Little Son was just getting over a bad cold -- in fact, that's what I thought I was coming down with, except mine turned into strep, lucky me.

I am finally feeling better. What an awful couple of weeks, health-wise -- I put on my jeans today, and they fell off. I had to wear a belt.

This surprised me, because I haven't been running since I got sick -- and I have still consumed my usual quota of things like, um...doughnuts. I don't LOOK any thinner, and I definitely believe that both my flabby gut and double chin have grown more ample, so I guess I probably ended up losing a chunk of healthy muscle weight.

But tonight, the lights on the Christmas tree are on, and we are all lying on the heated carpet, watching some inane Japanese comedy show on TV, and arguing about the usual stupid stuff, like somebody's foot being too close to someone else's hand, who should get the big pillow, and what to watch next.

It doesn't get much better than this.

Sick-Kid Chicken [UPDATED]

Families with two working parents play this game all the time.

A kid is sick. In this case, it is Little Son, who woke up unable to put any weight on one of his legs. There is a lump at the top of his thigh -- it's small, and I hoping it's unrelated (maybe a still-swollen lymph node from his recent illness?).

Which parent will blink first, and agree to miss work to take the kid to the doctor?

Hub just took sick days. He said there was NO WAY he could avoid going in to work this morning.

If I were still working in San Francisco, I would not have thought twice, or hesitated at all to take a kid to the doctor for something like this.

But I now work in Tokyo, for the little boss.

I would have to use a personal or vacation day, and I don't have any left, unless I work on Christmas, Christmas Eve or the Japanese national holiday before Christmas Eve. There is NO WAY I want to do this.

We knew Little Son wasn't faking it when he couldn't stand up to take the candy out of the Advent calendar -- something really hurts.

Of course, Hub and I both Googled his symptoms, and I found lots of descriptions of soft-tissue tumors, and Hub found some horrible pediatric degenerative bone disease.

We are hoping it is just a pulled muscle.

I am deeply resentful that I now work for an employer that requires me to use my vacation time to take sick kids to doctors.

I would have done it, though. If Hub had refused, I surely would have opted to work on a holiday, or half of a holiday, so that I could take Little Son to the Horrible Clinic.

But Hub caved first, in the game of "Sick-Kid Chicken."

Hub is a manager, a kacho -- no one is going to make him work on a holiday, to make up for work time he misses for something like this, because he puts in plenty of unpaid overtime. [UPDATED, to say, gee, come to think of it, so do I....maybe this is at the root of my seething resentment, ya think???]

Hub is going to take Little Son to one of the big Tokyo hospitals, one that has an orthopedics department. This is truly the better option -- while there are some good doctors at the Horrible Clinic, there are also some who have made questionable judgement calls in the past (and I will not get started on that now).

Can I just say again that I deeply resent my employer requires me to play "Sick-Kid Chicken" at all?

Okay....off to work now, where I will try to work hard and not think about any of this.

Away in a Manger, Fit for a Ranger

Why is it that having Hub home sick takes a million times more of my energy than having him away on a business trip? It's not as if he expects me to wait on him hand and foot, or even do much at all -- and yet......sigh.

I think it's because he's so grumpy when he's sick. He's not mad at me, but he's mad at the whole world because he's not feeling well.

So little time, so many mundane household stories to tell.

On Sunday, I skipped mass for a GOOD reason for once, because I volunteered to help Little Son's Sunday school class with a labor-intensive craft project. The kids all made nativity sets, to bring home to their families.

This is great for us, because we gave ours away when we left San Francisco. We donated it to one of the teachers at our school, who was really to have a Special San Francisco Edition nativity set.

The set we made had only people, so Little Son immediately set about making some origami animals.

Our set now includes a giraffe, a lion, and a giant crab.

Oh, come, all ye....crabs....

Sorry, couldn't resist.

Why?

Why is it that when Hub gets sick, he gets to stay in bed, without worrying about how everything around the house is going to get done with him out of commission?

I am no martyr -- I resent this. I am not 100% myself yet, and kind of wanted to take it slow for a while.

[But I do feel sorry for the poor guy.]

Liar, liar [UPDATED]

Little Son still believes in Santa. I feel like a big, fat liar, perpetuating the tale of a big, fat, bearded guy bearing presents.

While I also feel like a liar sometimes for perpetuating the tale of a benevolent supreme being, that's not as bad --- there might be a God, but there is definitely not a Santa.

I have always loved this quote, by Gloria Steinem, whom I've greatly admired since I was even younger than Daughter is now:

"By the year 2000, we will, I hope, raise our children to believe in human potential, not God."

That makes so much sense to me. I think that a truly benevolent God would encourage this belief in human potential, rather than people throwing themselves on the mercy of a higher power and hoping for the best all the time.

Along those same lines.....by the year 2010, we will, I hope, raise our children to believe that Christmas presents come from loving family members, not Santa.

Does anyone else out there feel guilty about the Big Fat Santa Lie, or is it just me taking honesty to my usual freakish extreme?

[UPDATED, to note that the Santa issue has come up in our family before, a few years ago. It's a good thing I keep a blog, or I would never remember any of this stuff for more than 10 minutes.]