Suburban Kamikaze

No apparent motive in latest wave of sock abandonment

 from the sock archives: One dirty sock ahead of the apocalypse

Camp Teen cleanup effort begins with laying in supplies

Ends in disarray, recrimination, reassessment of entire cleanup strategy.  

 

for more advice on Household Disorganization: Bin there, done that. 

Teens 11, Cinnamon rolls 1

from the hungry teenager archives: The very hungry teenager

Wake the F*#k Up: A baby bestseller

 "The sun would be up in less than an hour and still, no one came ..."

Zombie revelers flee invasion of June brides

CHICAGO -  Officials urged calm Saturday as the city's lakefront and downtown shopping district were overrun by wedding parties just as hundreds of local and visiting undead were kicking off the annual Chicago Zombie Walk. 

No casualties were reported, but hundreds of zombies could be seen shuffling, stumbling and leaking body fluids along the streets in an effort to flee roving bands of bridesmaids and a relentless swarm of June brides. 

 
 
 

  
 

 

from the zombie archives: How to train for the coming zombie apocalypse

Crate & Barrel introduces Apocalypse Teen collection

When it comes to decorating, accessories make the room. 

Apocalypse Later: End Times predictions fail to mar opening of yard sale season in suburban Midwest

 

from the apocalypse archives: One Dirty Sock Ahead of the Apocalypse, In the event of a zombie apocalypse, I will be ready

Suburban mom's approval rating headed into double digits following midweek baking binge

 

from the cooking archives: Nothing. It's What's for Dinner.

Bottom of sink revealed following two-day excavation; search continues for seventh grader's floor

 

from the archives: Study of teen texting habits reveals parents are annoying, there is never anything good to eat

Family's cereal collection eligible for its own zip code

 from the fine dining archives: Delays plague banana bread project as family's hopes fade

Lawn ornament weddings steeped in tradition, pageantry

 

Sugar rush fuels season's first swarm of Gap Kids: Residents urged to "hide the eggs"

 From the archives: Gap Kids arming for snow war

Top OPI nail colors in the Suburbs

Leftover Taupes and Dreams

Coffee or Die

(Mommy's got the) Roll of a lifetime

Stainless Steel Sinking Feeling

DIY Plum-ing

All That Glitters Is in the Vacuum Bag

In the (30-year mortgage) Red

Cerulean for Dinner

Hot Pink Babysitter

Blood Stains on the Picket Fence

Spilled Milk

Low Down Dirty Stinkin' Laundry Blues

The Kids are in Bed Red

Midweek dinner prospects keep suburban family on edge

 

from the dining archives: Nothing. It's What's for Dinner.

Study: Family's housekeeping practices less than solid

 

From the Household Mismanagement Archives: Multicolored Ikea scrubbers to launch new age of cleanliness, order and household cooperation, Bin there, done that

Looming thaw has suburbs on alert for toddler mobs Officials: Things could get sticky

From the Dateline Suburbia archives: Delays plague banana bread project as family's hopes fade

Middle school romance syndicate leaving nothing to Cupid

 

From the archives: Middle School Beauty Co-Op Takes Hard Line on Bad Hair Days

Middle school beauty co-op takes hard line on bad hair days

 

From the middle school beauty archives: Match.com Junior High

Gap Kids arming for first snow war of the season

 

Neighborliness gives way to trash talk as competitive raking season opens in the Midwestern suburbs

 

More from the Midwestern Diary:  The Corn Whisperer, Study: 30 percent of fall leaves end up in house

Post-It threats go unheeded in housekeeping standoff

 
From the delusions of order archives:  Multicolored Ikea scrubbers to launch new era of  cleanliness, order and household cooperation 

Uptick in consumer spending linked to Joseph Balakovich's bar mitzvah

It seems as if the invitation will never arrive.

Monday, nothing. Tuesday, nothing. Wednesday, Thursday. Whenever. Whatever. She can't wait forever to start shopping. Practically everyone else already has their dress!

It's only the most promising event on the seventh grade social calendar and her mother is acting like it isn't even real just because the stupid invitation hasn't arrived.

Too old for the daddy-daughter dances, too young for prom, the seventh-grade girls were trapped in a glamourless landscape of Aeropostale sweatpants and afterschool sock hops as far as they could see.

Then along came Joseph Balakovich and centuries of cultural tradition that the girls have subsumed into a single headline from the marie claire fall fashion alert:  Ruffles rule! 

The girl and her friends are so eager to share in this fashion cultural and spiritual milestone in the life of their friend and classmate they can not stop texting about it.

"Did u see Molly's dress?" "Wat is Amelia wearing?" And "OMG, I think that is the exact same dress that Emma bought!!!"

Probably they are also googling sections of the Torah and sharing thoughts on the age of moral responsibility, but I don't overhear everything.  

Behind the excitement, a platoon of mothers is dispatched to area malls to commence arguing shopping. Dresses are considered, rejected, considered again, argued over, purchased, returned and repurchased. Unless that is just the way we do it?

Pointless discussions ensue over proper dress. No middle school girl will be caught dead in a dress that covers her shoulders and her knees, no matter how many years of tradition are behind it. It is also a foregone conclusion that the best dress will be the one that costs the most.

Oy vey, I am starting to sound like somebody's mother.    

Soccer ball, hula hoop fail to contain spread of tot pool filth

Multicolored Ikea scrubbers to launch new age of cleanliness, order and household cooperation

Further reading from the Household Mismanagement Archives: Bin There, Done That

Delays plague banana bread project as family's hopes fade

The Largely Hypothetical Food Archives 

"Missing" soy sauce discovered in suburban refrigerator exactly where wife said it would be

Junior high party syndicate seen as a growing threat to parents' sanity

CANDYLAND - In an effort to break up what has been described as a major slumber party racket infiltrating the suburban Midwest, authorities say they will impose a new limit on the maximum number of sixth-grade girls allowed for non-birthday sleepover events.

The harsh measures come in the wake of a series of increasingly elaborate entertainment schemes perpetrated by a group of 12-year-old girls suspected of operating a party ring based in the Chicago suburbs.

Most recently, the group is said to have organized a massive surprise birthday party for one syndicate member by luring "Jamie's" mom into hosting what she believed was an ordinary Friday night sleepover.

The mother, who believed she had agreed only to allow "Amelia" or possibly "Elizabeth" to spend the night, later learned that as many as a dozen girls had been invited to attend a pizza, ice cream and all-night pedicure dance party at her house in honor of Amelia's  "birthday."

Authorities say the scheme was interrupted after some mothers balked at their daughter's insistence on the purchase of Coach brand accessories as birthday gifts.   

The operation has its roots in a fifth-grade con in which syndicate members conspired to inflate the hours of legitimate birthday parties by inviting guests to come early and stay late as part of a phony set up and cleaning crew.

Authorities warned parents to be vigilant for signs of party plotting, which may include requests for cake mixes, a surge in text messaging and a heightened sense of drama surrounding the issue of whether Haley is still mad at Anne.

Related conspiracies: Whoever came up with the idea that creativity should be encouraged probably did not have 11-year-old girls

Stocks rally to reports of sixth-grader's birthday repeat 

Lawn Bradys a threat to Midwestern lawn maintenance

The season of fear is upon us and the men are beginning to show the first signs of what is known as lawn anxiety.

After a long dormancy during which the dandelions do not show their faces above ground and the grass is safely confined beneath a layer of ice, the battle against the forces of chaos must begin again.

There is no time to lose. Mowers must be readied. Teenage boys must be rousted from their beds on weekend afternoons by threat or by bribe.

Is it just their imagination or has the yard put on a few feet over the winter? Its sinister green reach stretches endlessly from fence to fence, threatening to wreck the best laid plans of 15-year-olds to remain on the couch until an entire season of South Park has concluded.

Is it any wonder they are afraid? Just look at the stuff that is cropping up all over the neighborhood...

Not even the most obsessively maintained yards are immune. Oh Alice!

Study of teen texting habits reveals parents are annoying, there is never anything good to eat

Study: Stray shoes and other household debris piled on staircase fails to convey intended message

Stocks rally to reports of sixth grader's birthday repeat

You only turn 12 once.

But if you play your MasterCards right, you can keep the celebration going for months.

No one knows this better than the girl we call McGallon. (First, because it rhymes, and later because we discover that she can eat an entire carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream in one sitting.)

McGallon's birthday begins around Christmas and ends by Valentine's Day if we are lucky. How she accomplishes this is never really clear until it is over and we arrive exhausted and bankrupt at her plans for spring break.

This year's birthday begins on schedule with the Christmas shopping. 

McGallon helpfully identifies items that members of the family might want to consider for her upcoming birthday, since it falls only a month after Christmas.

Afterward, she pretends not to be paying attention so we can surreptitiously buy them with the understanding that they will be put away until January.

These gifts are opened at Christmas.

A new birthday list is proposed by New Year's. I do not understand exactly how this happens, year after year. (In my defense, I can only plead a recurring fantasy of time management.)

But it is the party planning that really tends to spiral out of control.

Unless firm limits are established early and often, McGallon has a tendency to dream big. Her idea of the perfect birthday party? Think Tyco.

This year, I propose an alternative to recreating Dennis Kozlowski's birthday bash. How about flying her best friend up from Fort Lauderdale for a girls' weekend instead of a party? A great idea, right? Easy. Elegant, almost, in its simplicity. She agrees immediately.

She is the most agreeable child ever.  The girls have a great time. McGallon begins planning a birthday party before her friend's return flight has even left the airport.

There will still be cake, right?

"Well of course," I say.  "I will make you a cake."  ($1.99)

An ice cream cake, she says. With a theme.

"Sure," I say.  An ice cream cake.  ($28)

Could a couple of girls come over to have cake?  Well, I think, we can't eat a $28 ice cream cake by ourselves, can we? But that's it. An ice cream cake, a couple of girls. No one stays longer than it takes to eat cake.

A movie? she asks. Could we watch a movie?

All right, I say.  But no sleepovers. 

Balloons? There were balloons for her brother's birthday. He didn't want them. How does that count?  He only wanted cash. I bought the balloons to make it seem less like a transaction. The balloons were for me, when you think about it. 

She has already thought about it. She thinks balloons would be nice.

Fine, I say. But  no ice sculptures. I mean it.

Photo: A girl of simple tastes.

Past rallies: Wall Street surges on reports of fifth-grade supply list

War on Christmas brought to successful end; suburbs rearming for Valentine's, Chinese New Year

Study: 30 percent of fall leaves end up in house

Pop-Tart label to be serialized under new HarperCollins imprint

Fifth-grader facing middle school debut disaster

MORTIFICATION  -  As rumors swirled around the possible attendance of certain parents at a local middle school's "5th Grade Games Night," fifth-graders steeled themselves for the possibility of social disaster.

The anxiety began as the demand for volunteers threatened to derail dozens of negotiated non-attendance agreements between future middle-schoolers and their catastrophically uncool parents.

The event, designed as an orientation for incoming students, features an evening of fun and games conducted throughout the school and is considered by many fifth-graders to be a critical networking opportunity key to sixth grade social success.

Anticipation soon turned to panic however, when news that some mothers had been recruited to help began to filter through the playground in a steady stream of text messages between the swing set and the monkey bars.     

"OMG!" said one particularly distressed 11-year-old, whose mother had promised to drop her off and leave immediately - only to  renege when the call went out for more volunteers. "I am ruined."

"What was I supposed to do?" said the mother, who asked not to be identified because she had not yet told her daughter that she had been assigned a highly visible role as "team leader." 

"It's not like I pinky-sweared or anything," said the woman, displaying an uncanny grasp of fifth-grade promise protocol that only served to heighten her potential as a source of major embarrassment.

Photo: Fifth-grader's mother as middle-aged Hannah Montana; Games Night embarrassment threatens to eclipse all previously suffered humiliation.   

"War on Christmas" jumps the shark

Let me be the first to call it: The so-called "war on Christmas" is over as a movement of widespread, if mostly disingenuous outrage. 

The end came when Tonia Thomas, a rental assistant at a Panama City resort property management company, became this season's poster child.

Thomas was fired after defying her supervisor's instructions to answer the telephones with "Happy Holidays" on the grounds that her religious beliefs required her to behave like an ass "prevented her from contributing to the secularization of Christmas." 

Now, say the outraged folks at Liberty Counsel, which is representing Thomas in her federal discrimination complaint, Thomas' family will have fewer gifts under the tree. 

"Left without a job on the eve of Christmas, the family will now have to forgo some Christmas presents this year," says a Liberty Counsel press release, in a sentence that is sure to be included in next year's "Unintentially Ironic" category at the public relations professionals' awards dinner. 

Photo: www.democraticunderground.com

Wall Street spooked as mortgage-backed securities give up the ghost

Scary things are happening in the financial markets. 

The evidence is in the mostly incomprehensible news stories crowding out what has been an entertaining run of occasionally goofy, but easy-to-follow dispatches on all things Sarah Palin.

Now it's all Index of Subprime Mortgage Derivatives Plunges on Sector Woes!  

Wasn't it only yesterday when our biggest problem was trying to decide whether Cindy McCain or Sarah Palin had the better hair?

This week's newspaper reading is a slog, even with all the little charts and boxes. 

For those of us who procrastinated, telling ourselves day after day that tomorrow, surely, we would take the time to learn what was meant by credit default swap derivatives and how subprime mortgage-backed securities really work, and who are Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae again?  - for us, this week's newspapers are as inscrutable as the pile of documents we pretended to understand when executing our own mortgages.

But we can't put it off any longer. So this morning I buckle down with strong coffee and the financial news, determined to make sense of whether I should care if insurance giant A.I.G. can secure bridge financing or that the bank where I have almost enough money to make my mortgage payment is trading for $2 a share.

I take notes so I can bother the business editor later with my questions:  Is the smart money under the mattress or in the dresser? And what has any of this got to do with Sarah Palin anyway?

I am five paragraphs into Joe Nocera's attempt to make sense of what he calls the "mind-numbing complexity of the derivatives ... at the heart of the current crisis," when the 10-year-old begins her song.

"Do you love my little baby ghosties? Yeah, yeah, little baby ghosties..."  Other verses follow as I make my way through an analysis of Lehman Brothers' mark-to-market pricing.

She has thrown herself into the Halloween spirit early this year, producing an assembly-line's worth of little paper ghosts with googly eyes and gaping 0-shaped mouths.

"Stop," I say. "I am trying to read a story of mind-numbing complexity. The "Little Ghostie" song is making it hard for me to concentrate on whether it was a good idea to sell Merrill Lynch to Bank of America."

She looks at my notebook. "Write about my ghosties," she says.

"I am writing about the crisis on Wall Street," I say. "It's a little early to write about Halloween."

She deftly revises the pitch.   

"My ghosties are ruined financially," she says. "They had their money in Templeton Franklin and the money isn't there anymore."

I can't argue with that. 

Photo: Ghosts actually put very little of their own money at risk.  

Wall Street surges on reports of fifth-grade supply list

NEW YORK - Investors sent stock markets into flights of exuberance this week in reaction to leaked reports of a fifth-grade school supply list that one analyst described as "truly inspired."

The list, describing a wide range of items specified by both brand and brutally exacting characteristics, (glossy, hardcover spiral notebook with zipper, magnetic and button-closing accessory pockets; 132 pages, $17.99; Coach) is said to require no fewer than three separate retail outings and at least $168.46 to fulfill, including impulsive last-minute folder upgrades.

The report sent the indexes surging as market strategists pounced on shares of blue erasable pens, wide-ruled notebook paper, 8-count bold Crayola markers - but not the thin ones -  and elaborate expandable file folders. 

Shares of Office Depot (ODP:NYSE) led the rally, climbing more than $3 in the last half hour on rumors that a suburban mommy in the Chicago area had begun to crumble in her resistance to a skull and crossbones backpack and matching lunch box.

By day's end, it was clear that "off-list" purchases had left investors even further ahead, as consumers found themselves worn down by middle-schoolers who refused to consider existing supplies from the bin in the basement.

"I know what I need and I don't want to use five-year-old, dusty crap," said one finnicky 13-year-old, whose insistence on a faux-leather $34.99 three-ring organizer left the investor relations department at Office Depot hastily adjusting third-quarter projections.

Photo: 10-year-old bullish on backpacks.