Matchmaking Woes…

I can’t remember exactly WHEN I started matchmaking, but it seems like I’ve been doing it forever…  In fact, I clearly remember trying to set people up back when I was in high school.  Most kids seemed open to it, however I was always asked the same question, even to this day: “Why?  Why do you keep doing it?”  I can’t explain it, it just makes me happy to see two people come together and form a relationship of some sort.  Whether its a long term relationship that ends in marriage and children, or something short-lived until both parties decide to move on.  Either way, it brings me joy.  I wake up in the middle of the night with an Aha! moment, knowing who I am going to set up the next day.
As much joy matchmaking brings me, there are some definite upsets that come along with it also…  Maybe its a sign of times, but lately I’ve been having the hardest time with single ladies between the ages of 35 and 45.  It’s not that they are opposed to the idea or mind paying for matchmaking services, but rather very cautious almost too cautious about being set up on a date.  Not only are they hesitant about giving me their real age and history of past relationships, but they also proceed very slowly and with great fear!

As the world evolved and allowed women to be completely independent from men, sometimes earning higher salaries, having great friends, apartments and a social life – so has the need for having a man in our lives.  It’s sad and wonderful at the same time.  These days the men who come to me for help are a lot more open about it, even when it comes to light “coaching”, appearance and dating advice.  Women on the other hand… not so much.  They seem very set in their ways as they get older, and unless I bring them “The Perfect Guy” don’t mind staying single.  I can’t say that I blame them, after all they do seem to have it all so why bother wasting a night on a potentially wrong date?  But then again, I am not usually wrong when I pair two people up and besides What Do You Have To Lose?  Not much.  And hopefully a lot to gain!  Who doesn’t want someone to come home to, or curl up on the couch with that isn’t covered in drool and animal hair?  Sure your cat or dog can’t talk back, but they also can’t give you an opinion on a pressing matter, give you an orgasm or bring you a hot cup of tea when you are ill…

If you or someone you know is interested in my matchmaking services – visit Match By Julia.  I will be more than happy to help you find a partner in life!

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Baseball and G-d

I trust in G-d 
I love my Country 
And will respect its laws 
I will play fair 
And strive to win 
But win or lose I will always do my best 

This is the pledge the players chant before every Little League game, including my twelve-year-old son.  Not only do I cringe every single time I hear the use of “G-d” in any child’s activity, but it’s even more alarming when it is mandated and used at a children’s baseball game.  I realize that a prayer of some sort was invented and widely perused far before Tim Tebow could wipe his own ass, however what does G-d have to do with baseball, or sports in general?

This country is so obsessed with the power of a higher being, one might even say a power of a supernatural (but one would be called insane for using that word), that it’s not only acceptable to use G-d’s name in just about anything in life, but praise G-d for absolutely everything!  What does G-d have to do with sports, and better yet what is G-d doing in a Little League’s pledge?  Basically, what we are teaching our children is that as long as they pray to G-d before each of their games, a supernatural being way up high in the sky will look after you and make sure you win your games!  What a way to instil false hope into a bunch of teenage boys…  Forget teenage boys, they are chanting this so-called pledge at the five-year-old’s games!

All I can think about while the players are reciting this pledge is what about Atheists on the team?  What about if your family simple does not believe in G-d, or anything that comes with it?  What about those same players going home after a game and asking their parents why in the world we have to say that we “trust in G-d”, when in fact we DON’T trust in G-d, but only in ourselves?  Isn’t G-d a bit too preoccupied with more important issues of the world to be worried about some Little League’s baseball game?  From day one, we teach our children to believe in themselves and in their abilities as decent human beings, and to trust their gut when it comes to anything and everything in life.  And then we make them PRAY before school starts and their sports games?  Isn’t it enough that G-d’s name is already in every school as it is.

Parents, am I the only one that’s outraged over this?  Please, send me your feedback!

Hooters, children and me being the greatest parent that ever lived…

Yesterday was the last day of my children’s freedom, and incidentally the last day of my imprisonment.  As I counted down the dwindling hours of winter break, I was also counting down the hours till my head was going to stop throbbing and my voice would sound human again (oppose to a hissing, barking, and squealing-female version of a prison guard type of a voice).

So, I decided to reward my boys with a lunch at Red Robin (mainly because I had a coupon) to celebrate their last day of vacation!  Even though they didn’t seem to appreciate my goodwill and sarcasm about the whole thing, they still agreed to go.  What a tough life!  Poor little children being taken out to lunch after having endured two weeks of fancy shmancy activities, trips, restaurants and who could forget not one but eight nights of Hanukkah.  Next year, I already told them that they will be taking a little trip to Skid Row for the holidays; and later I will re-wrap their already played and forgotten toys for Hanukkah.

After being seated along with the many other Moms who had the same exact idea, I tried making conversation in between Atari’s Breakout and NimbleBit’s Tiny Tower; yes they are over Angry Birds and Plants vs. Zombies or whatever the hell their names are.  Let me tell you, it requires some serious mad skills to be able to carry on a conversation with your Mother while building a whole condominium at the same time, and don’t get me started on those pesty little people walking around needing something every ten minutes, the alarm on Tiny Tower is the most annoying thing I’ve ever heard in my life, right next to a child crying and whining at the table next to me while I’m trying to enjoy an ‘Adults Only’ dinner.  Why is it that its perfectly alright for the child to throw a fit in a public place, but it is NOT alright for me to come over to it and smack it on the head?  My theory is if the child’s parent isn’t going to do anything about it, that clearly means they want other adults to do something about their annoying child’s behavior.  You with me on this?  Good, moving on.  Oh wait, one more thing before moving on…  As my Father likes to say quite often, “When I was a little boy in Lithuania (FYI, we lived in Latvia, but that’s not the point) if a child ever talked or cried in public, any adult was allowed to come up and shut that bastard up!  End of story.”  Alright, so I added the last part from myself but you get the point here.

Somehow I managed to get my kids’ little eyes away from their iPods long enough to have a five-minute dialogue about our adventures in Florida back in the day.  Specifically, my oldest wanted to know why I took him to a ‘HOOTERS’ restaurant in Orlando one day.  His words: “Mom, I just don’t understand.  I was only like 7 or 8 at the time!  Why would you think it was appropriate for me to see girls in very short shorts and boobs everywhere serving me food?  If I wanted to see that, I’d stay at home and look at you.”  First of all let’s get something straight, I’ve never in my whole life worn short shorts or shorts of any kind.  My idea of shorts are pants that come up to my calf, I believe they are called ‘Mom shorts’ a.k.a. Capris.  Second of all, I have never until that day been to a Hooters restaurant, nor have I heard much about it.  Sure I’ve heard the name, but didn’t know what it was about.  Believe me, as soon as we walked in I realized it was not your typical place to eat.  Maybe we stayed because I was curious, and maybe it was because we were both starving and the other closest restaurant was not close by.  After explaining such to my twelve-year-old, he seemed pretty satisfied with the answer and immediately after went back to destroying aliens, or building a house for them, not quite sure which one.  After a minute, he looked up and added this interesting fact: “It’s OK Mom, I am not mad at you.  Turns out most of my friends have been to Hooters with their Dads anyway, so it wasn’t just me that was put through that torture.  And to tell the truth, I like girls now so its OK.  Let me know if you’d like to go there again.”  Oh thanks son, make me feel like the worst parent ever, then reward me with that little announcement…

My six-year-old caught wind of ‘boob talk’ and decided to chime in, specifically wanting to know where there’s such a place with girls in short shorts and boobs everywhere, and more importantly why I’ve never taken HIM there?  Oye, how can one brother be so different from the other?  One is all about the rules and structure, and the other only wants to have a good time.  Boy I sure hope the older one doesn’t find out about my new tattoos, there is a lecture I’d like to avoid.  Last time it only lasted a week, who knows how long this one will take…  I plan on keeping a shirt on whenever taking him to the pool, beach and anywhere else that requires a swimsuit.  Stay tuned for that conversation, I am planning on recording it…

 

Overcoming my homesickness…

This morning was a bit of a somber morning for me…  Our six-grader headed out to a four-day overnight Science camp today!  I have to emphasize the OVERNIGHT part since it was the only thing I heard when first learning about this little adventure, which might as well had said a six-month-overnight-camp.  It all sounds the same to me, because all I hear is: my child will be without his Mommy!  It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t called me that in years, I still think of him as a three-year-old.  Surely, I am not the only Mother (or the last one) to worry about her child going away for days at a time, however I suspect I might be in the minority when it comes to everything else I did prior to his departure…

That would include:

– packing eight pairs of underwear and socks instead of the recommended four, as specifically stated in the camp flyer

– packing four pairs of pants instead of the recommended two, again as specifically stated in the camp flyer

– packing enough toothpaste to last him til next year instead of the recommended one-trial-sized-tube

– packing shampoo and conditioner to last at least two weeks because it was listed under the “optional items” section

– packing four pairs of pants instead of the recommended two

– packing eight shirts instead of the recommended four

– and of course packing enough snacks for the long 30-minute ride to the camp completely ignoring the section marked “what NOT to pack”, because like a good Jewish Mother I never let my kids leave the house with a little something to nosh on “just in case”.

The last few days leading up to today I kept thinking how much my son will be homesick, and me not being there to comfort him.  The more I thought about that, the more I started to notice that it doesn’t seem to phase him one bit that he will be gone for a whole four days!  All he cared about was getting his friends into the same cabin, and whether or not he can try sneaking in his iPod…  Every night I snuggled next to him telling him not to worry, that he will have a great time and to call me for any reason, no matter how small it may be.  And every night AFTER that I would overhear him telling his brother to be good and “distract Mom as much as possible because she will be a total mess!”  Nice.

When we finally dropped him off at school this morning, I quietly told my son that I love him and that I might cry a little bit when he goes.  He turned to me and with a straight face replied: “I know you love me Mom.  It’s OK, you can cry.  Just go do it over there somewhere, not too close OK?”

Not much more I can say after that, except for: looks like I’m the one with the homesickness problem, not my child.