Wine, MacGyver and Triangles. Oh, My! (did I mention wine?)

By Kelly Sinon

With my upcoming …ahem…20-something class reunion slated for next month, I am brought back five years ago to our fist 20-something class reunion (I’m class of ’88, if any of you are inclined to do the math. That’s 1988, not 1888).

I spent months fretting about the perfect dress, not to mention shoes; oh, and the purse to match, of course. I even had the dress altered. Apparently, I’m short-waisted. Is that a somewhat polite way of saying short? This was not a news flash.

This time, our Reunion Guru, Shannon was kind enough to spare us all the agony and booked a nice local place, with a casual dresscode. I could almost hear all of GHS Class of ’88’s collective sigh of relief.

We are free now, in our more… advanced years to focus on the more important things. Seeing old friends, and reliving old times.

Ever wake up to one of those “Winky Blinky” traffic barriers on your front lawn? I have …and so did my Dad, as she shook his head, walking down the sidewalk towards his’86 Firebird on his way to work. That “Winky Blinky” made the rounds to all of our friends and their unsuspecting parents. One of them had the misfortune of finding it in the middle of their living room (Love you, Gil and Sandy!).

Stuntwoman-like driving skills that cost a muffler over the railroad tracks, but a call to a guy friend, had us up and running again with MacGyveresque skills and a wire hanger.

These stories always require wine, and that’s where my house comes in. Just like back in the day (Sorry, Dad). Did someone say more wine?

Having The Triangle over afterwards to dish the dirt and giggle. The Triangle consists of four… yes, that’s right, four girls (Okay, women, now). We were “The only triangle with four sides.” It made perfect sense to us at the time and was uproariously funny. Only this time, we are without one of our “sides” as she lives abroad. You might think that now it’s a perfect triangle. But it’s not. The Triangle has also grown to include spouses, significant others and kids. Not sure what shape that is.

When we all see each other again, we will still be 17. We will still have full heads of hair, all of our own teeth and not a wrinkle among us. Our cars are nicer, though, and we won’t be carded when we hit the bar. Rose colored glasses are nice.

Did someone say more wine?

_____________________________________________________________________ _

Kelly Sinon can be reached at sksinon@aol.com. She lives in Gilroy with her family of four, and sometimes, three, as The Girl is off to school. Yet, another Triangle.

When Facebook Attacks...

Facebook gets a lot of press and ironically, on Facebook itself.
My quest to graduate from "Moooommmm" to "Friend Request Accepted"...

By Kelly Sinon

Social networking sites are not new and neither is the virtual parental praise that go with them.

 Last summer brought the inevitable Facebook Failure when Mom thought that she and her teenage daughter had finally made it to that stage in life that Mom had read about in all the parenting magazines, Cautious Friendship. We were ready.

 It happened steadily. Slowly. A buildup of “Friendless” messages to her account and maybe a day or so later, a return “Friendless” message. Friendless because you don’t have to “Friend” someone in order to send them a private message.

Look at me! 40, and I know all the lingo of Facebook. Don’t let my giddiness fool you.  I do know that this does not make me cool. It just makes me a 40 year-old Facebooker  who desperately wants her daughter to “Friend” her.

And then one day it happened. The day parents dream of (don’t tell me you don’t). The Friend Request Acceptance. That’s right. I dug deep, and hit the button on my laptop from my perch on the couch. 

From across the room , manning the desktop, Teenage Daughter wailed, “Mommmm!” as she opened her Facebook page. I smiled at her, pleading.

“Okay, fine,” Teenage Daughter sighed with a click of the mouse.

Alright, so it wasn’t the eager reception I’d hoped for. I was in!

However, I did not know there were certain rules. Rule one: Nothing you post should ever, and I mean ever, illicit a response from any of her Friends. But I was a Noob and I was jealous of all the other mothers who got to publicly flout the law and  proclaim, “I’m so proud of you, LadyBug!!” and even more jealous when the daughters would reply, “Thanks, Mom! Luv U.”

But now, it was my turn. The world was going to know how very much I love my KatieKat.  I moved with the deliberate precision of a very clumsy, paunchy house cat.  Not too fast. I didn’t want to scare her.  A quick “Good morning,” or “See you tonight,” once a week or so, sometimes repeated or misspelled due to a tiny phone keypad and sausage- like fingers.

But then, the unavoidable happened, the end of her senior year. Bringing with it all of the photo ops and events that just scream for “likes” and comments.  It was a disaster in the making and I was oblivious; a lamb to the Facebook slaughter.

Through the Senior Dinner Dance and Senior Prom season, I was good. Not a word. Although, I ooh’ed and ah’ed to myself over all the pictures that she had on her page and her friends had on theirs.

Finally, the big Disneyland trip was coming up. Being me, I never like when a chick is missing from the nest for a night and I knew it wouldn’t be long until she was gone for a lot longer. It was becoming harder to keep quiet.

While at work a few days later, I knew the bus was pulling out of the high school parking lot and heading to Anaheim and Teenage Daughter and all of her friends would be heading into the night for their last hurrah.

 Just one message couldn’t hurt. I pulled out my phone and texted quickly on her Facebook Wall, “Have a great time, Sweetheart! I am so proud of you. I’ll be thinking of you…” and hit send.  No sooner had I hit send, there was a comment to what I wrote. I was excited. She was responding. Wait. No, it wasn’t her. It was one of her friends, “Awww…”

Uh-oh. This wasn’t good. I sat up straighter in my chair. Another response came up. “That’s so cute!” Crap. And then there was silence. Okay, that’s not so bad; just two.

I went back to work for a while, and thought of Teenage Daughter. Five minutes to quitting time, I pulled out my phone again.  Whew, all quiet on the Facebook front.  Her smiling face beaconing me to look at pictures while I waited for the On Trac pick up from the office. I scrolled though and came across some images with friends. I clicked on their site and saw a message from one of them to Teenage Daughter: “Be nice to your Momma. She just loves you.” I smiled. How sweet of her friend to say that. I scrolled lower.

Teenage Daughter: “I forgot to block her from my boyfriend’s phone,”

                Ouch. I touched my nose to make sure I wasn’t bleeding.

Clearly, I wasn’t ready.

 ____________________________________________________________________
Kelly Sinon is still proud of her Teenage Daughter who attends UC Riverside. She is just a lot quieter about it and the two have since resumed their Cautious Friendship with “Friendless” messages to each other every few days. Kelly can be reached at sksinon@aol.com or feel free to send her a “Friendless” message. She is no longer ashamed.

*** Note: Since the time of this writing, There are no more "Friendless Messages." 40-year old Mom is now 41, and The Daughter has deemed her old enough and responsible enough to be her friend. Mom is still happily cautious.