JENNIFER HUFFMAN
Napa Valley Register |
Monday, August 30, 2010
If your family didn’t get to make a trip to Disneyland this summer and needs a Disney fix, the Walt Disney Family Museum could be just the ticket — the “E” ticket — that is.
Located in the Presidio of San Francisco, this museum of all things Walt Disney opened in October 2009, offering the public a glimpse into Disney’s life — from humble beginnings to the creation of uber-park Disneyland and his death at age 65.
A visit to the museum begins at the red brick buildings of the Presidio’s former army barracks. Inside the meticulously renovated rooms, guests are greeted with signature Disney style by uniformed staff wearing snappy purple bellhop style jackets.
For more about our visit, photos and my amateur movie, click here...
Monday, August 30, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
Road trip!
Come Saturday morning at 8am, a friend and I are taking 6 13-year-olds on a girl scout trip to the Monterey Bay Aquarium for two days.
I've been working on the idea for quite some time now. The girls are getting at that age when girl scouts is not quite as popular as it once was. So I figured now was the time to do one last event with them. Will post from the road...
I've been working on the idea for quite some time now. The girls are getting at that age when girl scouts is not quite as popular as it once was. So I figured now was the time to do one last event with them. Will post from the road...
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
First Day of School!
Like most moms I take the typical First Day of School photo. Each year it gets a little bit harder to round up all three of them AND get them to smile at the same time.
Instead they want to hide, or smirk, or frown. I had to beg them just to get one nice picture this past Monday morning. Of course once they get to school they're all smiles. Why is it that our kids save their worst behavior for their own family??? Argh!!!!
(For the record, Allie is holding up 8 fingers for 8th grade, Ava 5 fingers for 5th and Annabelle two fingers for 11th grade.)
Instead they want to hide, or smirk, or frown. I had to beg them just to get one nice picture this past Monday morning. Of course once they get to school they're all smiles. Why is it that our kids save their worst behavior for their own family??? Argh!!!!
(For the record, Allie is holding up 8 fingers for 8th grade, Ava 5 fingers for 5th and Annabelle two fingers for 11th grade.)
Monday, August 23, 2010
Behind the Wheel
By Jennifer Huffman
Napa Valley Register
Monday, August 23, 2010
So we are about to have another driver in our family. A 16-year-old driver. Behind the wheel. Of a real car. On a real road. With other real drivers, who may or may not be equally new at driving.
This terrifies a mom on so many levels. Where do I begin? Well for one thing I should start by saying I hope this will be one of many columns I write about our teen and her driving. But I have a feeling I’ll be lucky to get even just this column about driving in print. I predict that once said 16-year-old starts driving I will be forbidden to write about it. So you could say I am doing a preemptive strike. I’m writing about the driving before it even begins so that once the newbie driver looks at me with daggers in her eyes and says “You better not write about this in your column,” I can respond quite truthfully, “Sure. I won’t write about your driving.” Oh, yes, I am one clever mom/columnist.
Back to the driving.
First of all, I don’t exactly know how it all works yet. I know there is a driving permit to get. And some online course or practice driving with something called Sweet Sisters. I have seen those Sweet Sisters cars around town. Why is it that all the Sweet Sisters cars are cute little Mustangs? Does a 16-year-old really need to zip around town in a candy apple red Mustang for a driving lesson? I think not. There is nothing sweet about a skittish 16-year-old behind the wheel of a potential hotrod.
A 16-year-old should learn to drive in their grandpa’s gigantic olive green 1970s Oldsmobile, in an empty high school parking lot like I did. She should be driving in the oldest, biggest, most sturdy and protected car ever made. Preferably with roll bars and while wearing a NASCAR-approved helmet. And with a GPS system that lets mom know exactly where the new driver is at all times, and relays the precise speed she is driving on Jefferson Street at 3:35 p.m. on any given afternoon. Yes, that is how it should be.
I guess there is also some kind of practice driving that needs to be done — again on real roads in real cars but with mom or dad in the passenger seat. This so-called “practice” driving must continue for six months. Six months of pure terror, I am told. Is it possible to act nonchalant while letting your teenager — who may or may not still sleep with stuffed animals at night — drive you around town? There is no brake on the passenger side of the car. I will be far, far away from the actual steering wheel and completely defenseless. I will be at her mercy. Is your blood pressure going up as mine is as I write this? I may need to see a doctor after the stress of just writing about her driving.
Let’s not forget that 16-year-olds are notoriously unpredictable. They may be able to memorize all kinds of arcane Algebra II formulas and French verbs but they can’t remember what they ate for lunch that day or where their shoes are. One minute they’re driving down the road, the next minute, “Oh, look at that butterfly,” and boom, the car is wrecked and someone has a broken leg or two.
As a parent of a new driver, I should have some kind of remote control button that I can push to instantly freeze all other traffic in town as our daughter makes her way to and from the school on the approved and designated route we will establish for her. Only when she arrives at her destination will all other traffic be free to move about town.
Then there’s the car insurance. I have heard the horror stories of the cost to insure a teen driver. Thousands of dollars a year, apparently. Who’s going to pay for that? I may need a benefactor to adopt her. Please let me know if you are interested.
A mom friend told me I could send our daughter to some kind of CHP teen driving program. Great! Sign us up. Better yet, let her ride along with a CHP officer and see the havoc a drunken driver can bring. Make her look at pictures of traffic accidents caused by speeding drivers. Have her use that ray gun to clock speeders on Highway 121. Scare her straight, I say — straight off the road.
Unlike my husband who lived on a ranch outside of town when was growing up and needed his own car to get to school, I was not one of those kids who rushed out the minute I turned 16 to get my license. My mom taught at my high school. I rode with her to school every morning. I most certainly was not presented a brand new car on my 16th birthday with a bow on top and car keys in a box. (No, I’m not bitter.)
Instead, somewhere around my 17th birthday I finally got my act together and got my license. My first car was our family’s bright green 1976 Volkswagen camper van. The kind with the long stick shift and that swayed like crazy in any kind of crosswind. Oh how I envied my friends at school that had their own cute little cars. But noooooo, I was driving the green VW van. With my mother in the passenger seat. Woo hoo.
So here we go. Next time you’re on the road, if you see a minivan with particularly terrified looking mom in the passenger seat and an impossibly young looking girl behind the wheel, just pull over and let us pass. We mean you no harm.
Surrendering to Motherhood appears every other Monday, alternating with Michelle Choat’s Gal on the Go.
Napa Valley Register
Monday, August 23, 2010
So we are about to have another driver in our family. A 16-year-old driver. Behind the wheel. Of a real car. On a real road. With other real drivers, who may or may not be equally new at driving.
This terrifies a mom on so many levels. Where do I begin? Well for one thing I should start by saying I hope this will be one of many columns I write about our teen and her driving. But I have a feeling I’ll be lucky to get even just this column about driving in print. I predict that once said 16-year-old starts driving I will be forbidden to write about it. So you could say I am doing a preemptive strike. I’m writing about the driving before it even begins so that once the newbie driver looks at me with daggers in her eyes and says “You better not write about this in your column,” I can respond quite truthfully, “Sure. I won’t write about your driving.” Oh, yes, I am one clever mom/columnist.
Back to the driving.
First of all, I don’t exactly know how it all works yet. I know there is a driving permit to get. And some online course or practice driving with something called Sweet Sisters. I have seen those Sweet Sisters cars around town. Why is it that all the Sweet Sisters cars are cute little Mustangs? Does a 16-year-old really need to zip around town in a candy apple red Mustang for a driving lesson? I think not. There is nothing sweet about a skittish 16-year-old behind the wheel of a potential hotrod.
A 16-year-old should learn to drive in their grandpa’s gigantic olive green 1970s Oldsmobile, in an empty high school parking lot like I did. She should be driving in the oldest, biggest, most sturdy and protected car ever made. Preferably with roll bars and while wearing a NASCAR-approved helmet. And with a GPS system that lets mom know exactly where the new driver is at all times, and relays the precise speed she is driving on Jefferson Street at 3:35 p.m. on any given afternoon. Yes, that is how it should be.
I guess there is also some kind of practice driving that needs to be done — again on real roads in real cars but with mom or dad in the passenger seat. This so-called “practice” driving must continue for six months. Six months of pure terror, I am told. Is it possible to act nonchalant while letting your teenager — who may or may not still sleep with stuffed animals at night — drive you around town? There is no brake on the passenger side of the car. I will be far, far away from the actual steering wheel and completely defenseless. I will be at her mercy. Is your blood pressure going up as mine is as I write this? I may need to see a doctor after the stress of just writing about her driving.
Let’s not forget that 16-year-olds are notoriously unpredictable. They may be able to memorize all kinds of arcane Algebra II formulas and French verbs but they can’t remember what they ate for lunch that day or where their shoes are. One minute they’re driving down the road, the next minute, “Oh, look at that butterfly,” and boom, the car is wrecked and someone has a broken leg or two.
As a parent of a new driver, I should have some kind of remote control button that I can push to instantly freeze all other traffic in town as our daughter makes her way to and from the school on the approved and designated route we will establish for her. Only when she arrives at her destination will all other traffic be free to move about town.
Then there’s the car insurance. I have heard the horror stories of the cost to insure a teen driver. Thousands of dollars a year, apparently. Who’s going to pay for that? I may need a benefactor to adopt her. Please let me know if you are interested.
A mom friend told me I could send our daughter to some kind of CHP teen driving program. Great! Sign us up. Better yet, let her ride along with a CHP officer and see the havoc a drunken driver can bring. Make her look at pictures of traffic accidents caused by speeding drivers. Have her use that ray gun to clock speeders on Highway 121. Scare her straight, I say — straight off the road.
Unlike my husband who lived on a ranch outside of town when was growing up and needed his own car to get to school, I was not one of those kids who rushed out the minute I turned 16 to get my license. My mom taught at my high school. I rode with her to school every morning. I most certainly was not presented a brand new car on my 16th birthday with a bow on top and car keys in a box. (No, I’m not bitter.)
Instead, somewhere around my 17th birthday I finally got my act together and got my license. My first car was our family’s bright green 1976 Volkswagen camper van. The kind with the long stick shift and that swayed like crazy in any kind of crosswind. Oh how I envied my friends at school that had their own cute little cars. But noooooo, I was driving the green VW van. With my mother in the passenger seat. Woo hoo.
So here we go. Next time you’re on the road, if you see a minivan with particularly terrified looking mom in the passenger seat and an impossibly young looking girl behind the wheel, just pull over and let us pass. We mean you no harm.
Surrendering to Motherhood appears every other Monday, alternating with Michelle Choat’s Gal on the Go.
Friday, August 20, 2010
A new boss.
I really liked my old boss. He was a good guy - a stand-up guy. My old boss and I got to know each other pretty well by sitting about 6 feet away from each other for almost five years.
I knew he was messy when he ate. I knew he always started yawning around 2:30 p.m. (which always caused me to start yawning). My old boss liked to get a certain Chinese chicken dish from a restaurant down the street. He'd call and the lady at the restaurant knew exactly who he was from his voice. Over those five years my old boss and I became friends. He laughed at my jokes. He was kind when he edited my stories. He didn't get mad at me when I broke his Mike Grgich bobblehead. He didn't boss me around, not too much.
Now I have a new boss. He's been here three weeks. He sits 6 feet away from me. He does not seem messy when he eats. He does not yawn. He does not get Chinese food for lunch.
My new boss is not the same as my old boss.
I might be ok with it, in about five years.
I knew he was messy when he ate. I knew he always started yawning around 2:30 p.m. (which always caused me to start yawning). My old boss liked to get a certain Chinese chicken dish from a restaurant down the street. He'd call and the lady at the restaurant knew exactly who he was from his voice. Over those five years my old boss and I became friends. He laughed at my jokes. He was kind when he edited my stories. He didn't get mad at me when I broke his Mike Grgich bobblehead. He didn't boss me around, not too much.
Now I have a new boss. He's been here three weeks. He sits 6 feet away from me. He does not seem messy when he eats. He does not yawn. He does not get Chinese food for lunch.
My new boss is not the same as my old boss.
I might be ok with it, in about five years.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Slam!
We are having drama in the Huffman home tonight. I think work-at-home Dad has had it up to HERE with a certain new 13 year old's A-TI-TUDE. They're bickering like two people that have been stuck in the house together too long. Like a whole summer too long.
I thought the girls would have struck out on their own more these past few summer months. There are three bikes parked outside. Why don't they get on the bikes and go wherever they want? When I was their age (here we go) I rode my Schwinn all over Sonoma County for hours at a time. No cell phone. No checking in. The library was my other hangout. These girls seem to want the action to come to them. Or have Mom personally escort them to where it's happening.
They cling to home. What are they doing all day? They sure aren't cleaning their rooms or making their beds. They've pecked away at their summer homework assignments, but they're not done yet. We're not letting them sit for hours by the TV, that's for sure.
I hope one of their teachers makes them write that essay "What I did on My Summer Vacation." I'd sure like to know.
I thought the girls would have struck out on their own more these past few summer months. There are three bikes parked outside. Why don't they get on the bikes and go wherever they want? When I was their age (here we go) I rode my Schwinn all over Sonoma County for hours at a time. No cell phone. No checking in. The library was my other hangout. These girls seem to want the action to come to them. Or have Mom personally escort them to where it's happening.
They cling to home. What are they doing all day? They sure aren't cleaning their rooms or making their beds. They've pecked away at their summer homework assignments, but they're not done yet. We're not letting them sit for hours by the TV, that's for sure.
I hope one of their teachers makes them write that essay "What I did on My Summer Vacation." I'd sure like to know.
Monday, August 16, 2010
One World Futbol
Who knew something as simple as a ball could make such a difference? Read on for a story I wrote for today's Register about a new kind of soccer ball, marketed from Napa.
One moment provides spark for One World soccer ball
by JENNIFER HUFFMAN
Napa Valley Register
Monday, August 16, 2010
It was the TV images of African refugee children kicking wadded up bits of trash taped together to create a makeshift soccer ball that first got inventor Tim Jahnigen’s attention.
At the time, Jahnigen happened to be wearing an early pair of Croc-like material shoes. An inventor, as well as songwriter and music producer, “I was fascinated by the properties of this material,” he said. As he watched the documentary about the refugee children playing, “I had those shoes on my feet and it just hit me like a thunderbolt. I can use this material to make a ball.”
Jahnigen was inspired to create an indestructible soccer ball — that would never wear out, never go flat, and never need a pump. Such a “futbol” would let people to play soccer anywhere.
To read more click here...
One moment provides spark for One World soccer ball
by JENNIFER HUFFMAN
Napa Valley Register
Monday, August 16, 2010
It was the TV images of African refugee children kicking wadded up bits of trash taped together to create a makeshift soccer ball that first got inventor Tim Jahnigen’s attention.
At the time, Jahnigen happened to be wearing an early pair of Croc-like material shoes. An inventor, as well as songwriter and music producer, “I was fascinated by the properties of this material,” he said. As he watched the documentary about the refugee children playing, “I had those shoes on my feet and it just hit me like a thunderbolt. I can use this material to make a ball.”
Jahnigen was inspired to create an indestructible soccer ball — that would never wear out, never go flat, and never need a pump. Such a “futbol” would let people to play soccer anywhere.
To read more click here...
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