Friday I didn't feel well. So, I decided to take the day off from work - I had no patients scheduled anyhow - and just rest. Which is like saying "I am going to go to a heavy metal concert, sit front row, and read a book. In another language. And understand it. And leave feeling peaceful and calm." Because, I am a mom, and the kids are on Christmas break, and I have a George, and a Ninja, and yeah, the whole "Let's sit here and rest up and feel better" thing wasn't going to work.
So, as I was sitting on the couch pouting over the fact that it was nowhere near bedtime for the kids, I was scrolling through Facebook, and I see my friend, Justin, has just posted a picture of a cute little Husky puppy. This puppy was part of a Husky rescue operation that had just taken place, where 16 puppies and 11 adults were taken from a breeder who couldn't care for them anymore. (Well, actually the breeder's girl friend. The breeder for some reason or other was MIA.)
Anyhow, the puppy was all cute, as most puppies are, and I thought about Joe. And Joe's brains, and Joe's super energy activity level. And that Joe has been desperately trying to win over Buster, the current dog. Who just looks at him clearly communicating that, in the general order of the kids, if there was ever an emergency, Joe would be last on his list of which kids in our household he would be saving. Joe needed a dog. A loyal dog, who can grow with him, and who will love him absolutely, and be something he can pour all these brains and energy into. Joe NEEDED a dog.
So, I contacted the person who had this puppy, and, before I knew it, we had the okay to come and get him.
We loaded the kids up, went out and bought the puppy a collar, (blaze orange. With a matching blaze orange leash) and went to go get the doggie. Through all this, a name was decided on by the kids. (Disclaimer: I had NOTHING to do with the naming of this animal.) And the puppy was named "Turbo Speed Dick". Which is right on level with the Guinea pigs a few years ago - Sweet Tiger and Chocolate.
Turbo was just the cutest little husky puppy ever. A perfect gentleman on the way home. All snuggled up to Joe. Kaila, the animal whisperer, was told that this was to be JOE'S dog, so, try not to let the dog get too attached. Easier said than done. All animals flock to Kaila like she's Snow White. It's crazy.
Once inside the house, Buster, the current dog, looked at us with devastated betrayal written all over his face. Flashlight, the cat, was completely insulted, and refused to let even Kaila touch her. She just sat there scowling at everyone with her tail swishing in rage.
Buster seemed to be willing to at least give the puppy a try, and the cat decided this was fair grounds for leaping into the kitchen counters and trying to eat stuff.
Turbo ran and played, and chewed on everything, and chased George around, and discovered he can not run on hardwood floors, and flopped over like Thumper on the ice, in the Bambi movie. Which just made the entire household go "AWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!' Except for the cat, who clearly wished he would spin right out the front door, or find a nice electrical cord to teethe on.
Eventually, it was bedtime. The girl we had gotten the dog from had warned us that this doggie should probably be in a crate, and would probably fuss. We were to ignore it, or he would learn to just fuss till someone rescued him.
The directions with the crate stated that, doggies needed to be eased into the crate over a period of time, yadda yadda yadda.
After half an hour of the finest example of howling EVER, I decided the poor thing was either in pain or distress, and made Jasin go rescue him. At 10:30.
2:30, Jasin puts puppy back in crate.
3:20, I decide I cannot listen to the howling and crying anymore, and haul him back out of the crate.
3:30 I am standing in the back yard in whipping snow, wearing my housecoat.
4:30 Kaila is up, insisting she cannot possibly sleep, and offers to take the puppy
4:45 I decide that's a good idea, and go back to bed for an hour.
5:15 Both boys are up. And fighting.
5:30 Kaila and both boys are in the backyard with the puppy, wearing pajamas in the whipping snow.
5:45 Arguing over who gets to sit in my chair with the puppy ensues.
6:00 The alarm goes off.
6:20, Banging on the bathroom door as I am in the shower, with the announcement that everyone is going back outside again, to play with the puppy in the snow.
6:45: Sitting over breakfast, reading how huskies are the "Houdini of the dog world" and WILL escape everything anyone attempts to contain them with. Fences, of every kind. They dig, tunnel, climb, and jump. And, if they get loose, they run, likely never to be seen again. Well, that's comforting. The realization set in that, my kitchen remodel has just been put off for another year, as we are going to need a new fence, set in. But he is cute!
Someday, I am going to print off my Blog, and share it with an adult Joe, and tell him that when he is rich, I want my OWN private island. Till then, this Mama just got her kid a dog that should hopefully keep him busy, and give him something to pour all his brains and energy into.
Anyhow, that's Turbo's introduction into the family, and the Blog. This tired nurse is sitting on break typing this with memories of having newborn babies at home, and thankful the patient load is low at work today. I'm sure there will be updates, as I am pretty sure our adventures with Turbo have just begun!
Monday, December 30, 2013
Thursday, December 26, 2013
The Ninja Did It!
We have an intruder in our home. A terrible menace that only George has seen thus far. It's a Ninja. A Ninja we have been informed we will never ever catch, because he lives in a house in the woods. An INVISIBLE house, at that.
The Ninja has been responsible for quite a bit of trouble around the old homestead. George has informed us that the bad Ninja probably didn't get anything for Christmas. George has been informed that, if I ever catch that Ninja, terrible things will happen. To which he responded "Oh crap."
Aside from the Ninja that seems to delight in causing trouble in my household, Christmas went off without a hitch. I left work early on Christmas Eve, and was able to get the kids to our Traditional Christmas Eve Evening Mass. I love how the church looks, all decorated for Christmas. So calm and pretty and peaceful. But, I had George. Who is NOT the Ninja, but who has evidently been taking notes from him, and who was an absolute terror in church. No calm peaceful Christmas Eve Mass for me. I figure I have about 4-5 more years before that will happen.
Mass was followed by our Christmas Dinner. Several years ago, the tradition of Christmas Dinner after Christmas Eve church began. Then, on Christmas Day, we just pick at leftovers. It's the best idea ever. There is no way my kids are going to sit around the dinning room table on Christmas Day, and eat anything after snacking on candy canes all day. And, I don't have to cook on Christmas.
Christmas was a day that most of us spent in our PJ's. Except for George, who wore his Military Fatigues all day. Which, I am sure made perfect sense to him. And, while he did not get "Everything", he did receive 3 new Monster Trucks to add to his collection, and spent the entire day carting them lovingly around. So, I guess he was happy with his haul.
Joe made it all the way to Christmas without starving to death, and spent the day eating bagels and candy, and playing with his helicopter that really flies. And hurts like crazy when it flies into your face. In case you were wondering....
Today, I stumbled into work, deciding that the whole "Lie around in comfy clothes dozing and reading for an entire day" thing is seriously exhausting. My whole body hates me today. My body and me seem to be not getting along for the last week. I had been getting up and going to the school gym every morning before work. But then, the school had to go and close for the week. It will not open again until next Thursday. And, I haven't been feeling 100%, so, it was a good enough reason to sleep in for that extra hour for the last week. It has taken precisely 5 days, to get back to where I was before I started working out. So now I have to start all over again. And my body is having none of it. I'm all;
"Hey body, if you could just stop hurting and being sore and stuff, I would really appreciate it..."
and my body is all like "Hey, we don't really like you. We have decided we hate you, actually, and that we are officially on strike. Also, we have decided to make your arthritis worse, sooooo, yeah. Tough luck, lady."
"Come on. This is really not fair. I gave you a WHOLE day off and everything! Do you WANT me to put in the abs DVD guaranteed to kill you??"
"HA! You even think about it, and we will make you throw up."
"Fine. I will just withhold all chocolate indefinitely."
"Doesn't matter. We are going to take that awesome complexion you have had lately, you know, that little 'post workout glow' that you've had? And give you the complexion of a teen aged zombie, mixed with the pallor of a vampire, and throw in a blemish or two for fun. And your hair?! HAHAHA!!!!!"
"I really really hate you. Like, seriously, I hate you."
"Don't care. Keep it up, and we'll throw in a migraine for fun."
So, you see, things aren't going well in the whole body department. And, Bearded man forgot about the whole gym thing, and gave me 4 huge symphony bars, a box of cherry cordials, and a carton of Whoppers for Christmas. I tried soooo hard not to whimper, as I thought about the reaction my "Lose It" app would have if I tried to plug any of that into it. He redeemed himself with the new Janet Evanovich book. And I was also presented with a GPS, so now I will have a speedometer that doesn't look like I am texting every time I look down at it.
The other night, as I was driving Joe to his Cub Scout Christmas party, I was putting my phone/speedometer into the usual cup holder, when I was pulled over. The nice young officer informed me I had been texting, and I nicely pointed out my speedometer showing 70mph at a standstill,and explained I HAD NOT been texting, just setting my speedometer in the drink holder. And he nicely said I could still be ticketed for having a hand held device in my hand while driving, and I sweetly pointed out that I was only TRYING to be all law abiding and compliant, by going the correct speed, and trying NOT to get pulled over, and he was all, okay I won't write you a ticket, and I will even be nice and turn the spotlight on the cruiser off so it stops hurting your eyes, and I was all like, Oh you are such a sweetheart! Thank you so much!And then the nice young man called me ma'am, and ruined the whole 'I am not old enough to be his mother illusion.' and I was on my merry way again.
And now I have a GPS that I can mount on my windshield and know how fast I am going, so I don't get pulled over anymore. These are the fixes that happen when you are married to a mechanic. Also, I won't get lost when trying to get to job number 2 anymore. So that is a plus, as well.
Break time is over, so I need to wrap this up. I also need to conserve energy for the Ninja problem at home. I may enlist the help of George, to see if we can figure out a way to defeat the Ninja. He seems as dismayed as I am, at the trouble the Ninja is causing. Which seems to be on the rise lately....
The Ninja has been responsible for quite a bit of trouble around the old homestead. George has informed us that the bad Ninja probably didn't get anything for Christmas. George has been informed that, if I ever catch that Ninja, terrible things will happen. To which he responded "Oh crap."
Aside from the Ninja that seems to delight in causing trouble in my household, Christmas went off without a hitch. I left work early on Christmas Eve, and was able to get the kids to our Traditional Christmas Eve Evening Mass. I love how the church looks, all decorated for Christmas. So calm and pretty and peaceful. But, I had George. Who is NOT the Ninja, but who has evidently been taking notes from him, and who was an absolute terror in church. No calm peaceful Christmas Eve Mass for me. I figure I have about 4-5 more years before that will happen.
Mass was followed by our Christmas Dinner. Several years ago, the tradition of Christmas Dinner after Christmas Eve church began. Then, on Christmas Day, we just pick at leftovers. It's the best idea ever. There is no way my kids are going to sit around the dinning room table on Christmas Day, and eat anything after snacking on candy canes all day. And, I don't have to cook on Christmas.
Christmas was a day that most of us spent in our PJ's. Except for George, who wore his Military Fatigues all day. Which, I am sure made perfect sense to him. And, while he did not get "Everything", he did receive 3 new Monster Trucks to add to his collection, and spent the entire day carting them lovingly around. So, I guess he was happy with his haul.
Joe made it all the way to Christmas without starving to death, and spent the day eating bagels and candy, and playing with his helicopter that really flies. And hurts like crazy when it flies into your face. In case you were wondering....
Today, I stumbled into work, deciding that the whole "Lie around in comfy clothes dozing and reading for an entire day" thing is seriously exhausting. My whole body hates me today. My body and me seem to be not getting along for the last week. I had been getting up and going to the school gym every morning before work. But then, the school had to go and close for the week. It will not open again until next Thursday. And, I haven't been feeling 100%, so, it was a good enough reason to sleep in for that extra hour for the last week. It has taken precisely 5 days, to get back to where I was before I started working out. So now I have to start all over again. And my body is having none of it. I'm all;
"Hey body, if you could just stop hurting and being sore and stuff, I would really appreciate it..."
and my body is all like "Hey, we don't really like you. We have decided we hate you, actually, and that we are officially on strike. Also, we have decided to make your arthritis worse, sooooo, yeah. Tough luck, lady."
"Come on. This is really not fair. I gave you a WHOLE day off and everything! Do you WANT me to put in the abs DVD guaranteed to kill you??"
"HA! You even think about it, and we will make you throw up."
"Fine. I will just withhold all chocolate indefinitely."
"Doesn't matter. We are going to take that awesome complexion you have had lately, you know, that little 'post workout glow' that you've had? And give you the complexion of a teen aged zombie, mixed with the pallor of a vampire, and throw in a blemish or two for fun. And your hair?! HAHAHA!!!!!"
"I really really hate you. Like, seriously, I hate you."
"Don't care. Keep it up, and we'll throw in a migraine for fun."
So, you see, things aren't going well in the whole body department. And, Bearded man forgot about the whole gym thing, and gave me 4 huge symphony bars, a box of cherry cordials, and a carton of Whoppers for Christmas. I tried soooo hard not to whimper, as I thought about the reaction my "Lose It" app would have if I tried to plug any of that into it. He redeemed himself with the new Janet Evanovich book. And I was also presented with a GPS, so now I will have a speedometer that doesn't look like I am texting every time I look down at it.
The other night, as I was driving Joe to his Cub Scout Christmas party, I was putting my phone/speedometer into the usual cup holder, when I was pulled over. The nice young officer informed me I had been texting, and I nicely pointed out my speedometer showing 70mph at a standstill,and explained I HAD NOT been texting, just setting my speedometer in the drink holder. And he nicely said I could still be ticketed for having a hand held device in my hand while driving, and I sweetly pointed out that I was only TRYING to be all law abiding and compliant, by going the correct speed, and trying NOT to get pulled over, and he was all, okay I won't write you a ticket, and I will even be nice and turn the spotlight on the cruiser off so it stops hurting your eyes, and I was all like, Oh you are such a sweetheart! Thank you so much!And then the nice young man called me ma'am, and ruined the whole 'I am not old enough to be his mother illusion.' and I was on my merry way again.
And now I have a GPS that I can mount on my windshield and know how fast I am going, so I don't get pulled over anymore. These are the fixes that happen when you are married to a mechanic. Also, I won't get lost when trying to get to job number 2 anymore. So that is a plus, as well.
Break time is over, so I need to wrap this up. I also need to conserve energy for the Ninja problem at home. I may enlist the help of George, to see if we can figure out a way to defeat the Ninja. He seems as dismayed as I am, at the trouble the Ninja is causing. Which seems to be on the rise lately....
Monday, December 23, 2013
Christmas Stuff
Oh wow! I absolutely cannot believe that Christmas Eve is tomorrow! Last week, we had knee deep snow everywhere, and conditions were perfect, for accommodating a sleigh hauling toys and a (probably) insulin dependant elf. However; it rained, and now there is mud and slop and flooding everywhere, and Santa will probably need his muck boots to get anywhere around here.
That being said: we are pretty much all set for Santa in our house. Except the cookies. The kids ate all the cookies. And, if I cannot get around to either buying or baking some cookies, Santa will have to be directed to the refrigerator and some left over ham or chicken. Or he can pick at the fruit or veggie trays that will be in there. Not that some fruit and veggies would hurt, at this point. And maybe the poor reindeer would appreciate it.
Pretty much everything is all set for the Big Day. Which we plan on spending it at home, just us, and wearing pajamas for most of it. And doing a load of laundry, and picking up by the end of the day. Because, darn it, I have managed to keep the house looking good since I came back from vacation, and I am NOT losing momentum because of one day! Otherwise, dinner will consist of me throwing together fruit and veggie platters Christmas Eve, a ham in the crock pot, and a crackers and cheese tray. Everyone can just pick at whatever they like whenever they like. Except Joe. Joe will probably just eat Christmas candy.
Oh, Joseph. Quite the drama with Joe the other night. Evidently, while he was at his friend's house for a Birthday sleepover, Joe decided to eat half of a large pizza. And, a few hours later, began vomiting it all over creation. I received a call at 10:30 in the evening, advising me that we may want to come get our kid. The other boy's mom offered to drive him home, but, recalling his lifelong habit of vomiting all over my vehicle, I said we would come get him. Then sent Bearded Man to retrieve the sick child. In his truck. Not mine. Because, I am pretty sure if any of the kids vomit in my vehicle, it will send my truck into fits of all sorts of awfulness. And I really cannot deal with any more drama from my truck at this time. At this point, I am afraid to even LOOK at car dealerships, for fear my vehicle will die in the street out of spite.
Bearded Man came home and informed me that the parent's of the boy who Joe was with questioned him as to whether Joe eats like this regularly. I can only imagine the stories of near starvation my kid may have regaled them with. I can only thank them for thus far not calling the authorities regarding the starvation of my son. Who has announced that 'Pizza and me are no longer friends, Mom.' Which crosses yet another food off the (very small) list of things Joe will consume.
For Christmas, I did buy him bagels and cream cheese and orange juice (with lots of pulp), as those are favorites of his. So, for one day this year, Joe will have at least something besides candy that he can eat. And all the CPS people can enjoy their Christmases without a call from the Dick progeny. I hope he has triplets just like himself someday.
The tree continues to stand and look beautiful. And I am pretty sure it will last until Christmas. Albeit, everything under it will be covered in pine needles. The amount that of needles I sweep up every day is pretty alarming. I think the only thing making it not look completely dead is the decorations and tinsel covering it. Otherwise, I suspect it may be alarmingly bare under all the decoration... My poor tree will probably have to come down next weekend. which is such a shame, because it really is on the list of my all time favorites.
This year, Kaila has been told she must sell and then help hand out flowers, and log in 6 (or 8, we cannot remember which) of these activities between 7th and 8th grade, in order to be allowed to go on a field trip after the 8th grade school year. So, I bought mums for fall, and then poinsettias for Christmas. And the poinsettias look sooo pretty, sitting on the living room tabletops! So so pretty. There was this niggling thought, however, that I half recalled that poinsettias are a lot of work, and that I have killed every one that I have ever owned. It's been years and years since I had one, however, so I looked it up. And printed out a double sided paper, in small font, that detailed the month by month care of poinsettias. And decided on the spot that they are going to die. As, I will never remember to do most of these things. So now, every time I look at my beautiful poinsettias, I think about how they are going to die, because I am going to willfully let them. And, the gardener and nurse in me combined, is making this very very difficult. So now, there is no enjoyment in my beautiful poinsettias. Because they are going to die as a direct result in my inability to take care of them. Which is sort of plant murder. And premeditated, at that. Poor plants. If anyone out there wants to take on the care and keeping of 2 poinsettias, they are welcome to them....
Bearded Man continues to bake bread every day. He has now branched out into wheat bread. It is so so good. He tried to teach me how to bake bread yesterday. ("And THIS is how you spray the bread pans. I usually do short but even sweeps of the cooking spray-" "I KNOW HOW TO SPRAY A PAN, JASIN!!!!!!") But, I have been under the weather the last few days, and, I am afraid, not the most enthusiastic learner. Besides. Once I learn how to do it, I will always have to do it, and I don't have time. Bearded Man is still pretty excited about it bread making, and has bought himself two additional bread pans. That I have been strictly forbidden to use for anything except bread. Joe is so excited about all this homemade bread, that he has decided that we should turn the Family Room into a bread bakery. He has an entire business plan. I tell Joe all the time, he is going to be rich someday. He already has plans to own 5 private islands. And if I don't start feeding him better, I will have zero access to those islands. Since I am pretty sure he will indeed be wealthy, I think I may need to step up my game on the Mom front.
With all this bread baking, comes the desire to make homemade jams again. Maybe this coming spring and summer I will figure out how to can things. Since the shed that Bearded Man built this past summer has covered the area that I wanted to put a door more convenient for driveway/kitchen access, I think that maybe a pantry may go there, instead. Bearded Man has also re-ignited his desire for for chickens. Which, evidently are allowed within the village.
"Jasin. Where are we supposed to put chickens? They will destroy my gardens!"
"Behind my new shed!"
"There isn't a whole lot of room right there, Jasin..."
"Yes, there is! You could fit LOTS of chickens! Fresh eggs, fresh chicken...."
"Uh huh. And who is going to clean up after these chickens, and collect eggs, and feed and water them?:
"........... The KIDS can do it!"
"The same children that won't change a kitty litter, feed and water the dog, or even let him in and out? THOSE children?"
"Well, they will HAVE to do it!"
"And who is going to enforce this?"
"I still think it's a good idea. And, we need to figure out how to get a cow, too."
"Oh, good Lord."
Not sure how long the current bid for livestock will last. But I am positive that, if a cow is part of the future plans, whether in our back yard legally or illegally; I will be the person who gets stuck caring for it, and figuring out how to milk it. Which could be an entire blog post in itself. "Mama Milks the Cow".....
Pretty much that's it for now. George is still telling anyone who asks what he wants for Christmas that he continues to want "Everything". I imagine we are in for a bit of a disappointment Christmas morning. We could always tell him it probably had something to do with eating all of Santa's cookies.... we'll see how it pans out.
Merry Christmas, Everyone! Hope it's a great day for all of you!
That being said: we are pretty much all set for Santa in our house. Except the cookies. The kids ate all the cookies. And, if I cannot get around to either buying or baking some cookies, Santa will have to be directed to the refrigerator and some left over ham or chicken. Or he can pick at the fruit or veggie trays that will be in there. Not that some fruit and veggies would hurt, at this point. And maybe the poor reindeer would appreciate it.
Pretty much everything is all set for the Big Day. Which we plan on spending it at home, just us, and wearing pajamas for most of it. And doing a load of laundry, and picking up by the end of the day. Because, darn it, I have managed to keep the house looking good since I came back from vacation, and I am NOT losing momentum because of one day! Otherwise, dinner will consist of me throwing together fruit and veggie platters Christmas Eve, a ham in the crock pot, and a crackers and cheese tray. Everyone can just pick at whatever they like whenever they like. Except Joe. Joe will probably just eat Christmas candy.
Oh, Joseph. Quite the drama with Joe the other night. Evidently, while he was at his friend's house for a Birthday sleepover, Joe decided to eat half of a large pizza. And, a few hours later, began vomiting it all over creation. I received a call at 10:30 in the evening, advising me that we may want to come get our kid. The other boy's mom offered to drive him home, but, recalling his lifelong habit of vomiting all over my vehicle, I said we would come get him. Then sent Bearded Man to retrieve the sick child. In his truck. Not mine. Because, I am pretty sure if any of the kids vomit in my vehicle, it will send my truck into fits of all sorts of awfulness. And I really cannot deal with any more drama from my truck at this time. At this point, I am afraid to even LOOK at car dealerships, for fear my vehicle will die in the street out of spite.
Bearded Man came home and informed me that the parent's of the boy who Joe was with questioned him as to whether Joe eats like this regularly. I can only imagine the stories of near starvation my kid may have regaled them with. I can only thank them for thus far not calling the authorities regarding the starvation of my son. Who has announced that 'Pizza and me are no longer friends, Mom.' Which crosses yet another food off the (very small) list of things Joe will consume.
For Christmas, I did buy him bagels and cream cheese and orange juice (with lots of pulp), as those are favorites of his. So, for one day this year, Joe will have at least something besides candy that he can eat. And all the CPS people can enjoy their Christmases without a call from the Dick progeny. I hope he has triplets just like himself someday.
The tree continues to stand and look beautiful. And I am pretty sure it will last until Christmas. Albeit, everything under it will be covered in pine needles. The amount that of needles I sweep up every day is pretty alarming. I think the only thing making it not look completely dead is the decorations and tinsel covering it. Otherwise, I suspect it may be alarmingly bare under all the decoration... My poor tree will probably have to come down next weekend. which is such a shame, because it really is on the list of my all time favorites.
This year, Kaila has been told she must sell and then help hand out flowers, and log in 6 (or 8, we cannot remember which) of these activities between 7th and 8th grade, in order to be allowed to go on a field trip after the 8th grade school year. So, I bought mums for fall, and then poinsettias for Christmas. And the poinsettias look sooo pretty, sitting on the living room tabletops! So so pretty. There was this niggling thought, however, that I half recalled that poinsettias are a lot of work, and that I have killed every one that I have ever owned. It's been years and years since I had one, however, so I looked it up. And printed out a double sided paper, in small font, that detailed the month by month care of poinsettias. And decided on the spot that they are going to die. As, I will never remember to do most of these things. So now, every time I look at my beautiful poinsettias, I think about how they are going to die, because I am going to willfully let them. And, the gardener and nurse in me combined, is making this very very difficult. So now, there is no enjoyment in my beautiful poinsettias. Because they are going to die as a direct result in my inability to take care of them. Which is sort of plant murder. And premeditated, at that. Poor plants. If anyone out there wants to take on the care and keeping of 2 poinsettias, they are welcome to them....
Bearded Man continues to bake bread every day. He has now branched out into wheat bread. It is so so good. He tried to teach me how to bake bread yesterday. ("And THIS is how you spray the bread pans. I usually do short but even sweeps of the cooking spray-" "I KNOW HOW TO SPRAY A PAN, JASIN!!!!!!") But, I have been under the weather the last few days, and, I am afraid, not the most enthusiastic learner. Besides. Once I learn how to do it, I will always have to do it, and I don't have time. Bearded Man is still pretty excited about it bread making, and has bought himself two additional bread pans. That I have been strictly forbidden to use for anything except bread. Joe is so excited about all this homemade bread, that he has decided that we should turn the Family Room into a bread bakery. He has an entire business plan. I tell Joe all the time, he is going to be rich someday. He already has plans to own 5 private islands. And if I don't start feeding him better, I will have zero access to those islands. Since I am pretty sure he will indeed be wealthy, I think I may need to step up my game on the Mom front.
With all this bread baking, comes the desire to make homemade jams again. Maybe this coming spring and summer I will figure out how to can things. Since the shed that Bearded Man built this past summer has covered the area that I wanted to put a door more convenient for driveway/kitchen access, I think that maybe a pantry may go there, instead. Bearded Man has also re-ignited his desire for for chickens. Which, evidently are allowed within the village.
"Jasin. Where are we supposed to put chickens? They will destroy my gardens!"
"Behind my new shed!"
"There isn't a whole lot of room right there, Jasin..."
"Yes, there is! You could fit LOTS of chickens! Fresh eggs, fresh chicken...."
"Uh huh. And who is going to clean up after these chickens, and collect eggs, and feed and water them?:
"........... The KIDS can do it!"
"The same children that won't change a kitty litter, feed and water the dog, or even let him in and out? THOSE children?"
"Well, they will HAVE to do it!"
"And who is going to enforce this?"
"I still think it's a good idea. And, we need to figure out how to get a cow, too."
"Oh, good Lord."
Not sure how long the current bid for livestock will last. But I am positive that, if a cow is part of the future plans, whether in our back yard legally or illegally; I will be the person who gets stuck caring for it, and figuring out how to milk it. Which could be an entire blog post in itself. "Mama Milks the Cow".....
Pretty much that's it for now. George is still telling anyone who asks what he wants for Christmas that he continues to want "Everything". I imagine we are in for a bit of a disappointment Christmas morning. We could always tell him it probably had something to do with eating all of Santa's cookies.... we'll see how it pans out.
Merry Christmas, Everyone! Hope it's a great day for all of you!
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Bearded Man Bakes!
I am my own worst enemy. I go and decide to DO things, and then I must do them, and I end up making myself more crazy, more stressed out, and more tired, than if I just let it all go, and spent my off time reading.
This past weekend, with promises of heavy snow both days, and nothing absolutely pressing, I decided I needed to learn how to bake bread. I also took on a challenge to walk 200 minutes. While knowing full well it was going to snow. A lot.
I should backtrack, I suppose. To my new(er) position with the VA. I spend most of my days at a desk, on a computer. It is THE most sedentary job I have ever had in my life. I sit in my little office, with no windows, and rely heavily on my Kindle app at break time, to not go insane some days.
After my recent vacation, Colleen, my carpool buddy, suggested we meet at the local school gym at 5:30 every morning, to workout before work. What a splendid idea! I am almost positive the Mudderella has been moved to a different location, but, in the back of my head, I figure I should kind of train for it, just in case. That, and, seriously, it really helps my days go a lot better, with the post workout "zen".
Colleen has made it to the gym precisely 3 times, but, something I didn't know existed inside me, makes me hop right out of bed every morning, and go to the gym. I would have thought I would have already decided this was a form of self torture that was this side of sinful to inflict upon oneself, but, who knew? I kinda like it! And, it gives me the motivation to ignore the obscene amount of baked goods and chocolates being dropped off at the office by the dozens and pounds every single day, by well meaning patients. (Which reminds me: as a well meaning parent, I need to go out and buy my kids' teachers chocolate for Christmas still...)
So, this past weekend, I decide first and foremost, that, with all this exercising, I should continue it on the weekend, and pull out the workout videos I bought this past Spring/Summer. My girls decided this would be fun. So, up the stairs we trooped, to my bedroom. And it went as such:
Me: "What? 52 minutes?? This was supposed to be 45!"
Lexi: "UGH! You mean, THAT was just the warm up? The rest of this video is going to KILL us!"
Kaila: "Oh wow! The music is cool!" (Begins singing along)
Me: "Kaila, I swear to God, if you don't stop singing like you're strolling through the park, I am going to smack you."
Lexi: "Is that BABY OIL on his chest?"
Me: "Yes. Kaila! STOP singing!"
Kaila: "But I love the music! This is so fun!"
Lexi: "I am going to die."
Me: "I think halfway through is a good starter point"
Lexi: "I agree. Break time!"
Kaila: "NO! I am really into this!!!"
Lexi and Me : "Shut up, Kaila!"
On to the 200 minute challenge. I was ready to set out into the Winter Wonderland, when Bearded Man decided to come along too. We trudged 45 minutes through the snow, alone on a walk together for the first time in over 12 years. Amazing. I had no idea it had been so long! I still have to find time to get 105 minutes in before next Sunday.
Next was the bread making. I saved that for Sunday. And I tried, I really did. But, my first loaf was a failure. Ah well. I decided that selling my bread machine at a yard sale several years ago may have been a mistake, and began to regret it somewhat.
The next morning, Bearded Man sent me a picture of a perfect loaf of bread. Golden brown, perfectly domed, all fresh from the oven. Well. I'll be! Out baked by the Bearded Wonder! Who knew!
Till I found out this morning, when I reminded him it was his Mother's Birthday, that he had called her and asked how she did it. You know, the lady who used to own her own bakery? Still, it was perfect. And, he stopped at Walmart on his way home from work last night, and bought himself new measuring cups and spoons (In a manly black color) and a new bread pan. He put out 2 more loaves today. And again, sent pictures. I responded with a quick "Yummy!" To which he took great offense. "That's it? 'Yummy'? That's all I get?" I receive at work. To which I responded:
Bread Bread.
Oh, golden perfect bread!
Why cannot I
Get the delicious perfection
Out of my head?
I dream of your honey colored
Crisp golden crust
To bite it.
To savor it,
To worship it:
I must.
To the hero that baked you
His armor has now
Just a little less rust.
For, to produce such
Perfection!
Such Wonderment!
Truly a miracle
Heaven sent.
Oh, sweet glorious bread!
No other words
Could possibly describe
Such amazing perfection,
All golden and sunny,
But to use the word:
Yummy
I received no other complaints. And, we have found something that Joe will actually eat. So, hopefully his earlier threats that maybe CPS would need to be called, and I would have to be arrested, and he would have to be sent to a home where "Good" food was cooked, so he could stop being the 2nd smallest boy in his class, will finally stop. (By the way, Joseph is in the 65th percentile for height and the 60th percentile for weight, if I recall correctly, should anyone be wondering.)
All of this exercising and challenges come from this handy dandy app on my phone. Which I dutifully have positioned front and center, and use it religiously.
Apps are a wonderful thing. I now have one that I use for my speedometer, on my vehicle. While I was driving it recently, on the NYS thruway, it suddenly broke, and went from 65 to 120, and then kept going. Which is hugely unnerving. Sometimes, it works itself back down to working condition again. Then after a few days of driving, goes out of control again.
Also, after a tantalizing few days of the driver's side back door opening, it decided to be broken again, so we are back to shoving poor George through the window, to get him buckled into his car seat properly.
I am pretty sure my truck is possessed. It really seems to only work properly when it wants to. The temper tantrums and drama it puts me through are just insane.
Pretty much that's all for now. For those of you in the middle of all this recent snow, stay safe! And warm!
This past weekend, with promises of heavy snow both days, and nothing absolutely pressing, I decided I needed to learn how to bake bread. I also took on a challenge to walk 200 minutes. While knowing full well it was going to snow. A lot.
I should backtrack, I suppose. To my new(er) position with the VA. I spend most of my days at a desk, on a computer. It is THE most sedentary job I have ever had in my life. I sit in my little office, with no windows, and rely heavily on my Kindle app at break time, to not go insane some days.
After my recent vacation, Colleen, my carpool buddy, suggested we meet at the local school gym at 5:30 every morning, to workout before work. What a splendid idea! I am almost positive the Mudderella has been moved to a different location, but, in the back of my head, I figure I should kind of train for it, just in case. That, and, seriously, it really helps my days go a lot better, with the post workout "zen".
Colleen has made it to the gym precisely 3 times, but, something I didn't know existed inside me, makes me hop right out of bed every morning, and go to the gym. I would have thought I would have already decided this was a form of self torture that was this side of sinful to inflict upon oneself, but, who knew? I kinda like it! And, it gives me the motivation to ignore the obscene amount of baked goods and chocolates being dropped off at the office by the dozens and pounds every single day, by well meaning patients. (Which reminds me: as a well meaning parent, I need to go out and buy my kids' teachers chocolate for Christmas still...)
So, this past weekend, I decide first and foremost, that, with all this exercising, I should continue it on the weekend, and pull out the workout videos I bought this past Spring/Summer. My girls decided this would be fun. So, up the stairs we trooped, to my bedroom. And it went as such:
Me: "What? 52 minutes?? This was supposed to be 45!"
Lexi: "UGH! You mean, THAT was just the warm up? The rest of this video is going to KILL us!"
Kaila: "Oh wow! The music is cool!" (Begins singing along)
Me: "Kaila, I swear to God, if you don't stop singing like you're strolling through the park, I am going to smack you."
Lexi: "Is that BABY OIL on his chest?"
Me: "Yes. Kaila! STOP singing!"
Kaila: "But I love the music! This is so fun!"
Lexi: "I am going to die."
Me: "I think halfway through is a good starter point"
Lexi: "I agree. Break time!"
Kaila: "NO! I am really into this!!!"
Lexi and Me : "Shut up, Kaila!"
On to the 200 minute challenge. I was ready to set out into the Winter Wonderland, when Bearded Man decided to come along too. We trudged 45 minutes through the snow, alone on a walk together for the first time in over 12 years. Amazing. I had no idea it had been so long! I still have to find time to get 105 minutes in before next Sunday.
Next was the bread making. I saved that for Sunday. And I tried, I really did. But, my first loaf was a failure. Ah well. I decided that selling my bread machine at a yard sale several years ago may have been a mistake, and began to regret it somewhat.
The next morning, Bearded Man sent me a picture of a perfect loaf of bread. Golden brown, perfectly domed, all fresh from the oven. Well. I'll be! Out baked by the Bearded Wonder! Who knew!
Till I found out this morning, when I reminded him it was his Mother's Birthday, that he had called her and asked how she did it. You know, the lady who used to own her own bakery? Still, it was perfect. And, he stopped at Walmart on his way home from work last night, and bought himself new measuring cups and spoons (In a manly black color) and a new bread pan. He put out 2 more loaves today. And again, sent pictures. I responded with a quick "Yummy!" To which he took great offense. "That's it? 'Yummy'? That's all I get?" I receive at work. To which I responded:
Bread Bread.
Oh, golden perfect bread!
Why cannot I
Get the delicious perfection
Out of my head?
I dream of your honey colored
Crisp golden crust
To bite it.
To savor it,
To worship it:
I must.
To the hero that baked you
His armor has now
Just a little less rust.
For, to produce such
Perfection!
Such Wonderment!
Truly a miracle
Heaven sent.
Oh, sweet glorious bread!
No other words
Could possibly describe
Such amazing perfection,
All golden and sunny,
But to use the word:
Yummy
I received no other complaints. And, we have found something that Joe will actually eat. So, hopefully his earlier threats that maybe CPS would need to be called, and I would have to be arrested, and he would have to be sent to a home where "Good" food was cooked, so he could stop being the 2nd smallest boy in his class, will finally stop. (By the way, Joseph is in the 65th percentile for height and the 60th percentile for weight, if I recall correctly, should anyone be wondering.)
All of this exercising and challenges come from this handy dandy app on my phone. Which I dutifully have positioned front and center, and use it religiously.
Apps are a wonderful thing. I now have one that I use for my speedometer, on my vehicle. While I was driving it recently, on the NYS thruway, it suddenly broke, and went from 65 to 120, and then kept going. Which is hugely unnerving. Sometimes, it works itself back down to working condition again. Then after a few days of driving, goes out of control again.
Also, after a tantalizing few days of the driver's side back door opening, it decided to be broken again, so we are back to shoving poor George through the window, to get him buckled into his car seat properly.
I am pretty sure my truck is possessed. It really seems to only work properly when it wants to. The temper tantrums and drama it puts me through are just insane.
Pretty much that's all for now. For those of you in the middle of all this recent snow, stay safe! And warm!
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Dead Turkey = Earth Mother Resurection
The Earth Mother seems to be back. All it took was a dead turkey, to resurrect her. And take my kids' dislike of all things homemade to an entirely new level. Maybe some day they will appreciate home made dinners. But for now, my kids who rarely get fast food, only want pizza. That's about it.
Anyhow, after Thanksgiving, I had the remnants of our 22 pound turkey in the fridge. So, I made an enormous pot of broth with it.
"Mom. What are you doing to the turkey bones?"
"Making soup broth."
"With bones."
"Yes. With bones."
"That. Is disgusting. Why would you DO that? You expect us to EAT this??"
"Did you not eat the meat that was ON these bones, just the other day?"
"This is different. This is disgusting."
"We aren't eating the BONES! They just help flavor the stock!"
"You are making bone soup. That's just wrong."
"OH EM GEE. Go find something to do."
The other day, Kaila was complaining of a sore throat, so, after work, I came home and made a nice pot of chicken noodle soup, using my homemade broth. This soup looked like it should be photographed for magazines. It looked PERFECT. It tasted AMAZING. It was the most wonderful chicken noodle soup every created in the history of chicken noodle soup. And the broth! The most soothing coating ever, over the throat. Doctors should be able to sell this in pill form, because it was magical.
The kids. They hated it. They refused to eat the bone soup. Not having it. Kaila has a doctor appointment for her throat first thing tomorrow morning.
Meanwhile, while stirring this huge pot of simmering broth, I decided that I should start making my own bread. We go through ungodly amounts of bread every week. Almost a loaf a day. (100% whole wheat, of course. Because white bread is bad. All bread is bad. Anything made with flour, sugar, and any wheat not cracked with stones in the great outdoors 100 miles away from civilization and subsequent pollution and smog, is bad. Pretty much, unless it is something you haven't grown yourself, using only pure seeds, in pure dirt, with pure water - it's bad. No pressure. You're just killing your kids, pets, selves, we're all gonna die.)
So, last time I went shopping, I bought some yeast. And flour. Because, all the recipes I have found on Pinterest, state that white bread is a good starter bread. I can get all healthy with oats and honey and whole wheat after I master a decent white loaf. Besides; comparing bread made with only a few ingredients, to the ingredients on the loaves from the store, I can't imagine this white bread will kill as as quickly as the wheat bread from the store.
First things first. Bread pans. I have a few. I use them for meatloaf. Those will do for now.
Ingredients. Check.
Wondering how to store it? Where does one get bread bags? Or, since they are smaller than loaves of bread from the store, maybe just large plastic zip lock bags?
Time. Well, The weekends. That I don't work.
What if I need to make more than two loaves? That will last us only till Monday.
Worry about it later.
This weekend, I have every intention, of trying to make homemade bread. Which makes me wish I had made homemade jams this past summer. Which makes me wish I had learned how to can things. Which also makes me wish we had picked more berries, and frozen more things. Which makes me all determined to do it all next year.
I suspect the makers of Captain Morgan will have healthy Christmas bonuses next Christmas, because, I cannot make it at home, and I am bound to drive myself into drinking large quantities.
Speaking of Christmas, The halls are decked, the stockings are hung, and the sugarplums all bought and tucked away. And daily, I hear "I WANT IT!!!!!" Bouncing off the walls of my home every time a commercial is on the television. George is pretty upfront about it. He hopped right into Santa's lap at the store last weekend, and shrugged "Oh, I just want everything." Which speaks eons about my parenting abilities. My kids seem to have missed the entire point of the season. I'm working on it though. I am determined to do away with the 'gimmies' somehow.
This year we have the prettiest tree ever. It's on the list of all time favorites for me. I did note, with some alarm last night, that it seems to be shedding at a faster pace than I am okay with. At this point, I am just hoping that it still has some needles on it Christmas morning. Or, I could take the beautiful fire hazard down, and tell them they were all bad. No presents means no need for a tree, right? (Calm down, for heaven's sake! I wouldn't REALLY do that.)
That's about it. I am still recovering from my recent 11 day vacation. I didn't go anywhere; just got things done around the house. And realized that, my being home meant Bearded Man took it to mean he could sleep in daily and have frequent naps and hang out in the neighbor's garage. And that we have been married long enough that, not speaking to him does not bother him. It only means that those long periods of rest were uninterrupted. Obviously I need new tactics. I will have to think on this.
Till next time!
Anyhow, after Thanksgiving, I had the remnants of our 22 pound turkey in the fridge. So, I made an enormous pot of broth with it.
"Mom. What are you doing to the turkey bones?"
"Making soup broth."
"With bones."
"Yes. With bones."
"That. Is disgusting. Why would you DO that? You expect us to EAT this??"
"Did you not eat the meat that was ON these bones, just the other day?"
"This is different. This is disgusting."
"We aren't eating the BONES! They just help flavor the stock!"
"You are making bone soup. That's just wrong."
"OH EM GEE. Go find something to do."
The other day, Kaila was complaining of a sore throat, so, after work, I came home and made a nice pot of chicken noodle soup, using my homemade broth. This soup looked like it should be photographed for magazines. It looked PERFECT. It tasted AMAZING. It was the most wonderful chicken noodle soup every created in the history of chicken noodle soup. And the broth! The most soothing coating ever, over the throat. Doctors should be able to sell this in pill form, because it was magical.
The kids. They hated it. They refused to eat the bone soup. Not having it. Kaila has a doctor appointment for her throat first thing tomorrow morning.
Meanwhile, while stirring this huge pot of simmering broth, I decided that I should start making my own bread. We go through ungodly amounts of bread every week. Almost a loaf a day. (100% whole wheat, of course. Because white bread is bad. All bread is bad. Anything made with flour, sugar, and any wheat not cracked with stones in the great outdoors 100 miles away from civilization and subsequent pollution and smog, is bad. Pretty much, unless it is something you haven't grown yourself, using only pure seeds, in pure dirt, with pure water - it's bad. No pressure. You're just killing your kids, pets, selves, we're all gonna die.)
So, last time I went shopping, I bought some yeast. And flour. Because, all the recipes I have found on Pinterest, state that white bread is a good starter bread. I can get all healthy with oats and honey and whole wheat after I master a decent white loaf. Besides; comparing bread made with only a few ingredients, to the ingredients on the loaves from the store, I can't imagine this white bread will kill as as quickly as the wheat bread from the store.
First things first. Bread pans. I have a few. I use them for meatloaf. Those will do for now.
Ingredients. Check.
Wondering how to store it? Where does one get bread bags? Or, since they are smaller than loaves of bread from the store, maybe just large plastic zip lock bags?
Time. Well, The weekends. That I don't work.
What if I need to make more than two loaves? That will last us only till Monday.
Worry about it later.
This weekend, I have every intention, of trying to make homemade bread. Which makes me wish I had made homemade jams this past summer. Which makes me wish I had learned how to can things. Which also makes me wish we had picked more berries, and frozen more things. Which makes me all determined to do it all next year.
I suspect the makers of Captain Morgan will have healthy Christmas bonuses next Christmas, because, I cannot make it at home, and I am bound to drive myself into drinking large quantities.
Speaking of Christmas, The halls are decked, the stockings are hung, and the sugarplums all bought and tucked away. And daily, I hear "I WANT IT!!!!!" Bouncing off the walls of my home every time a commercial is on the television. George is pretty upfront about it. He hopped right into Santa's lap at the store last weekend, and shrugged "Oh, I just want everything." Which speaks eons about my parenting abilities. My kids seem to have missed the entire point of the season. I'm working on it though. I am determined to do away with the 'gimmies' somehow.
This year we have the prettiest tree ever. It's on the list of all time favorites for me. I did note, with some alarm last night, that it seems to be shedding at a faster pace than I am okay with. At this point, I am just hoping that it still has some needles on it Christmas morning. Or, I could take the beautiful fire hazard down, and tell them they were all bad. No presents means no need for a tree, right? (Calm down, for heaven's sake! I wouldn't REALLY do that.)
That's about it. I am still recovering from my recent 11 day vacation. I didn't go anywhere; just got things done around the house. And realized that, my being home meant Bearded Man took it to mean he could sleep in daily and have frequent naps and hang out in the neighbor's garage. And that we have been married long enough that, not speaking to him does not bother him. It only means that those long periods of rest were uninterrupted. Obviously I need new tactics. I will have to think on this.
Till next time!
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Even Poor People Deserve Respect
Thanksgiving Eve. Lots to think about today! After today, I will have 11 whole days off. I would like to think it will involve lots of R&R, but, in thinking about the "Must Absolutely Without Exception Get Done!!!!!" list, I don't think too much lying about eating bon bons will happen.
Last year, for the month of November, I did the whole '30 days of thankfulness' thing on facebook. It was exhausting. I had no idea I was such an ungrateful wretch, when I realized halfway through the month that I was having a terrible time coming up with things I oughta be thankful for. How terrible is that?
This year, I have been thinking a lot about poor people. Not the ones that are depicted in homeless shelters, as widowed women, thrown out of their homes, with little children in rags and bare feet. Or, the same family, huddled around a barrel of fire, in the projects someplace, with rags, bare feet and snow whipping around.
I have been thinking about a huge part of society that just cannot make ends meet. And another part of society that sneers in disgust at them. Those same people that feel all warm and fuzzy, when they throw money in the Salvation Army Kettle, or donate a toy or a can of food to the bins at the front of the stores, collecting for the poor. The same people that feel lighter than air, when they adopt a child or family from a Giving Tree.
I see a disturbing trend on Facebook, in conversations, and in general that show a generalized disgust and judgement of the poor. We live in a very poor area. One of the poorest in the state. One of the most expensive states to live in. Daily, I see and hear of the struggles of people trying to survive in day to day life. People that make decent wages, but still cannot make ends meet. Or people that work, but still need supplemental assistance, because, in the tenuous job market, and low wages of today, it just. isn't. enough.
The comments of "Well, I cannot believe they had the NERVE to buy that! That's MY tax money, paying for it!"
"Can you believe they took their kids to the beach?! They had no business wasting the gas money!"
"They bought COOKIES! Shouldn't they be buying nutritious things???"
"Their kids had the NERVE to ask for THAT for Christmas? THOSE people don't deserve expensive things! They should be asking for practical things!" (Because we all know that little kids who are poor should know to ask Santa for new socks, rather than a skateboard...)
"I was in line, and behind someone using their food stamp card, and couldn't believe what they were buying!!"
And on and on. While I realize that lots of people abuse the system, there are lots and lots more, that don't. And who have kids. Maybe their kids have gone without for a long time, and yes, Mom feels absolutely like the worst Mother ever, for having kids that never seem to have a treat. And she had the nerve, to buy them cookies. Or a Mom who is working doubles and over night, and then taking care of her kids all day, and who has had no sleep, who bought Monster Energy drinks. Or the kids who sat home all summer, and whose parent's finally decided to spurge, and take the kids to the beach for a well deserved day of fun. All scenarios that have happened lately. And the comments of "Well, if you can't feed 'em, don't breed 'em" Well, isn't that nice. "Not my problem. I PAY my bills! And I work hard! Get a job!" Maybe they HAD jobs. Maybe they lost their jobs. Maybe they are working as hard as they can, but just don't make enough. No one knows the story behind the card. And no one seems to understand the humiliation and swallowing of pride that lots of these people feel, in having to stand in at the cash register under the disgusted, judgemental sneers of the people behind them. To know that everything they just bought is now under scrutiny, because now they have 'the card'. The comments that maybe they should shop at a discount grocer, instead of the nicer high end stores. They should know better. Because, you know, "Those people" and their dirty little children don't deserve good foods.
Society seems to have the idea that, poor people have no business acting or living like those that aren't. It seems that, if poor people aren't acting poor enough, sad enough, grateful for the foods that people donate because they have no intention of every eating it, because "What was I THINKING when I bought this???", then, they are lower than any form of contempt. They are trash. Their children are trash, and they will always be trash. How DARE they laugh, have fun, have birthday parties, try to have nice things??
There are poor people out there who DON'T have welfare. They don't qualify. They don't make enough to make ends meet. If you look hard enough, you will see them. In the stores, wandering the isles with their kids begging for a treat, while mentally adding up the totals in their heads. Holding their breaths, while praying with fingers crossed that their bank card goes through. The tears, when it doesn't. The looks from the cashier and other customers, as they have to walk away from a cartload of groceries. The eye rolls they endure, while their kids ask how they are going to eat now? And, announce their teacher said they HAD to bring in a snack!
So. I see the 30 days of Thankfulness on Facebook. Intertwined with outrage over people on welfare. Intertwined with proud announcements of 'teaching my kids to donate to the less fortunate' which, evidently means only those poor widow women around the burn barrel with barefoot children in the snow. Have a heart! The vast majority of poor people are struggling. They are friends and neighbors who are trying. And sometimes, they just cannot make ends meet. It doesn't mean that poor people don't deserve the occasional treat. Or that their children don't deserve nice things sometimes. The stories I hear constantly from people you never would expect it from, of struggling to make ends meet, put food on the table, buy shoes and boots for their kids, keep the utilities on, and try to sleep at night, make me think that this problem is entirely more prevalent than anyone even suspects. White collar workers, blue collar workers. It effects entirely more than most even suspect. You would be surprised how many of your friends and family are scraping along for dinner.
Maybe, just maybe this holiday season, when donating, or standing behind someone who is just trying to put dinner on the table, instead of damning them for the occasional splurge, or judging those purchases, more people will try and be a little more understanding, considerate, and open minded. What is the point of donating to charity, of you are going to condemn those who need to use it?
This is not in defense of those who abuse it. Just in those that need it, and are treated like 2nd class citizens because of it.
Holy rant! It's just been bothering me lately. Hopefully we are all grateful for something this Holiday season. And hopefully you all have a nice dinner on the table. And hopefully, if just ONE person could maybe be a little more tolerant this season of people that they would have otherwise have had less than charitable thoughts about, it will make a huge difference in someones life. Sometimes an understanding smile, instead of an assuming, judgemental frown, can make all the difference in someones day. Life. Outlook.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Last year, for the month of November, I did the whole '30 days of thankfulness' thing on facebook. It was exhausting. I had no idea I was such an ungrateful wretch, when I realized halfway through the month that I was having a terrible time coming up with things I oughta be thankful for. How terrible is that?
This year, I have been thinking a lot about poor people. Not the ones that are depicted in homeless shelters, as widowed women, thrown out of their homes, with little children in rags and bare feet. Or, the same family, huddled around a barrel of fire, in the projects someplace, with rags, bare feet and snow whipping around.
I have been thinking about a huge part of society that just cannot make ends meet. And another part of society that sneers in disgust at them. Those same people that feel all warm and fuzzy, when they throw money in the Salvation Army Kettle, or donate a toy or a can of food to the bins at the front of the stores, collecting for the poor. The same people that feel lighter than air, when they adopt a child or family from a Giving Tree.
I see a disturbing trend on Facebook, in conversations, and in general that show a generalized disgust and judgement of the poor. We live in a very poor area. One of the poorest in the state. One of the most expensive states to live in. Daily, I see and hear of the struggles of people trying to survive in day to day life. People that make decent wages, but still cannot make ends meet. Or people that work, but still need supplemental assistance, because, in the tenuous job market, and low wages of today, it just. isn't. enough.
The comments of "Well, I cannot believe they had the NERVE to buy that! That's MY tax money, paying for it!"
"Can you believe they took their kids to the beach?! They had no business wasting the gas money!"
"They bought COOKIES! Shouldn't they be buying nutritious things???"
"Their kids had the NERVE to ask for THAT for Christmas? THOSE people don't deserve expensive things! They should be asking for practical things!" (Because we all know that little kids who are poor should know to ask Santa for new socks, rather than a skateboard...)
"I was in line, and behind someone using their food stamp card, and couldn't believe what they were buying!!"
And on and on. While I realize that lots of people abuse the system, there are lots and lots more, that don't. And who have kids. Maybe their kids have gone without for a long time, and yes, Mom feels absolutely like the worst Mother ever, for having kids that never seem to have a treat. And she had the nerve, to buy them cookies. Or a Mom who is working doubles and over night, and then taking care of her kids all day, and who has had no sleep, who bought Monster Energy drinks. Or the kids who sat home all summer, and whose parent's finally decided to spurge, and take the kids to the beach for a well deserved day of fun. All scenarios that have happened lately. And the comments of "Well, if you can't feed 'em, don't breed 'em" Well, isn't that nice. "Not my problem. I PAY my bills! And I work hard! Get a job!" Maybe they HAD jobs. Maybe they lost their jobs. Maybe they are working as hard as they can, but just don't make enough. No one knows the story behind the card. And no one seems to understand the humiliation and swallowing of pride that lots of these people feel, in having to stand in at the cash register under the disgusted, judgemental sneers of the people behind them. To know that everything they just bought is now under scrutiny, because now they have 'the card'. The comments that maybe they should shop at a discount grocer, instead of the nicer high end stores. They should know better. Because, you know, "Those people" and their dirty little children don't deserve good foods.
Society seems to have the idea that, poor people have no business acting or living like those that aren't. It seems that, if poor people aren't acting poor enough, sad enough, grateful for the foods that people donate because they have no intention of every eating it, because "What was I THINKING when I bought this???", then, they are lower than any form of contempt. They are trash. Their children are trash, and they will always be trash. How DARE they laugh, have fun, have birthday parties, try to have nice things??
There are poor people out there who DON'T have welfare. They don't qualify. They don't make enough to make ends meet. If you look hard enough, you will see them. In the stores, wandering the isles with their kids begging for a treat, while mentally adding up the totals in their heads. Holding their breaths, while praying with fingers crossed that their bank card goes through. The tears, when it doesn't. The looks from the cashier and other customers, as they have to walk away from a cartload of groceries. The eye rolls they endure, while their kids ask how they are going to eat now? And, announce their teacher said they HAD to bring in a snack!
So. I see the 30 days of Thankfulness on Facebook. Intertwined with outrage over people on welfare. Intertwined with proud announcements of 'teaching my kids to donate to the less fortunate' which, evidently means only those poor widow women around the burn barrel with barefoot children in the snow. Have a heart! The vast majority of poor people are struggling. They are friends and neighbors who are trying. And sometimes, they just cannot make ends meet. It doesn't mean that poor people don't deserve the occasional treat. Or that their children don't deserve nice things sometimes. The stories I hear constantly from people you never would expect it from, of struggling to make ends meet, put food on the table, buy shoes and boots for their kids, keep the utilities on, and try to sleep at night, make me think that this problem is entirely more prevalent than anyone even suspects. White collar workers, blue collar workers. It effects entirely more than most even suspect. You would be surprised how many of your friends and family are scraping along for dinner.
Maybe, just maybe this holiday season, when donating, or standing behind someone who is just trying to put dinner on the table, instead of damning them for the occasional splurge, or judging those purchases, more people will try and be a little more understanding, considerate, and open minded. What is the point of donating to charity, of you are going to condemn those who need to use it?
This is not in defense of those who abuse it. Just in those that need it, and are treated like 2nd class citizens because of it.
Holy rant! It's just been bothering me lately. Hopefully we are all grateful for something this Holiday season. And hopefully you all have a nice dinner on the table. And hopefully, if just ONE person could maybe be a little more tolerant this season of people that they would have otherwise have had less than charitable thoughts about, it will make a huge difference in someones life. Sometimes an understanding smile, instead of an assuming, judgemental frown, can make all the difference in someones day. Life. Outlook.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Sunday, November 17, 2013
The Theater, The Theater
With Kaila finally in the "Big School" this year, she was able to participate in the school play. A few years ago, our Middle High school put in a big, beautiful, state of the art auditorium, and have been putting on spectacular school plays. When I went to NYC this past spring, and saw the Phantom of the Opera, I was actually shocked at the tiny somewhat worn theater, compared to our school theater back home. Anyhow, Kaila thinks maybe show business and singing may be for her. So, she is in chorus, band and, signed up for the school play. And to go see all the big Broadway shows at Shea's in Buffalo, with the school.
I was hesitant, as, Kaila already has a pretty full plate, but, she was all for it. The Pirates of Penzance was the play selection this year. My kid made her debut in an operetta. A pretty big undertaking for Middle/High kids!
For the last 2 months, Kaila has had daily practices. Every evening for 2 hours, then 4 hours, and then on weekends. Sometimes for more than 5 hours. The poor kid was just exhausted. Some nights I was waiting up for her to finish late night home work sessions, so we could go to bed.
Through it all, Kaila would come home fuming about one of the other pirates. Evidently he spent the last 2 months tormenting her. He didn't think a girl should be playing a pirate. (She was the only girl pirate) He thought she was too young (he is a grade ahead of her) He wanted her sword. He announced he didn't like her. He called her names. A serious feud between these two pirates was forged.
Last week, Kaila came home completely despondent. This other pirate had pointed out that, at the end of the show, everyone is dancing with a partner. Except himself and Kaila. And, that he thought it would be a good idea for the two of them to have to waltz, too. Kaila was adamant. This was NOT happening. Absolutely no way, was she dancing with the boy who had been torturing her for two months strait. This was catastrophic.
Then, the night before the play, Kaila came bounding into my truck all smiles after practice. And announced she didn't have to dance with "That Boy" anymore, as he had broken his leg during wrestling. The relief was great. Now she could enjoy the play. Also, she had found out that she was in the top 10 in her grade for Science! I was so happy she was keeping up with her grades, with the commitment to this play.
The day of the play dawned, and the E Mails began. "Hi Mom! Andrew wants to come to the play. He doesn't have a ride. Could you pick him up and bring him? Please?"
"Hi Kaila, I will call his Mom."
"Hi! This is Andy! Can you pick me up from wrestling practice at 5:00 if I can go? It's at the elementary school. If I can't go, can you just tell me how great she was?"
OMG. How can I NOT take this poor kid along, after that? So, I called his mother, and got permission.
"Hi Andy! We are going to pick you up and bring you to our house for dinner, then you can go with us to the play. "
"Ummm. What's for dinner?" Really? No pressure there. His mom only butchers her own meat, has laying chickens, milks her cow and goats, makes her own yogurt and cheese, grows her own veggies and herbs.....
"Frozen Wal Mart pizza"
"Okay! See you later!"
When I arrived home from work, this kid was in the kitchen, already friends with Kaila's dog, and soaking up anything and everything we had to say about Kaila. He was such a personable kid. Completely at ease. Until Bearded Man mentioned that Kaila was pretty upset, as the kid with the broken leg was STILL in the play. And worried she would still have to dance with him.
"WHAT? Kaila can't dance! She has two left feet! I had to DRAG her to the dance floor at the Homecoming dance! Who is she dancing with?"
We told him.
"WHO? Oh no! He is a big kid! Between his broken bone and Kaila not being able to dance, he is going to fall and hurt her! She should NOT be allowed to dance with him! It's dangerous! Besides, he is not a nice boy. You should not let them dance. It's not safe!"
With a hidden grin, I assured him it would all work out okay.
The play went along without a hitch. Kaila looked so pretty up on stage in all her pirate gear. And, I had to appreciate a kid who had just broken a bone and was still able to participate in this play, crutch under one arm. I decided Kaila probably had been exaggerating a little. The end of the play, I happen to notice Kaila nonchalantly side step around another pirate, neatly putting him between herself and the pirate on the crutch. And I watch the pirate on the crutch look over at Kaila, who was studiously ignoring him. And then I watch him step around the pirate between them, glaring at Kaila. Who promptly scowled back at him. He sidled closer to Kaila, who side stepped away. Earning another glare, which was immediately returned with a look that clearly states "Come near me again, and I will break your other leg, and finish you off by beating you with your own crutch." He determinedly grabbed her and tried to get closer, as everyone danced around them, Kaila shoots him another look, shrugs away, and steps to the side again. I was laughing with tears streaming down my face, and stole a quick peak at Andrew. Who was sitting on the edge of his seat, watching the whole thing intently with narrowed eyes. For the next several minutes, the boy on the stage tried his best to get next to Kaila to sway alongside her for the end of the show, and my kid tried her best to not have to touch him at all, the two of them glaring murderously at each other the entire time.
At the end of the day, I am a mom. And I am a nurse. And I realize that the poor boy on the crutch is probably in a lot of pain and functioning on pain killers. My daughter needed to be nice. So, I instruct her to behave and be nice to this poor kid the next night during the play. I pointed out that, when she broke her wrist 2 years ago, she cried for days and was completely unable to function. This boy was in the school play in a heavy costume the day after breaking a bone! I didn't think it was a broken leg, but, he had definitely broken something near his foot.
The next night the play seemed to be going well. They were actually smiling at each other on stage! I was hopeful that the end would be better the second night than it had the first. The second night, the pirate on the crutch was not wearing a fake beard, and I was kind of surprised by how grown up this kid looked. Wasn't he only supposed to be 13?
As they headed into the end of the play, and into the dance scene, I held my breath. And tried not to laugh. I watched my daughter tense up as the pirate on the crutch sent a look her way. I watched her face change from happy to blank, as the pirate came closer. She did not step away, but did lean away a little. And became completely stiff, staring into the distance, refusing to sway with him. He kept getting closer and closer, and I saw her jaw tense as she glared into the distance. Even I was becoming alarmed, watching this boy edge closer and closer, glaring at Kaila the entire time. Who absolutely refused to look at him. Oh goodness. I took a picture, and figured it was in that boy's best interest to make himself scarce after the show. I wasn't too sure I would rescue the boy again.
After the show, Kaila came and found me, and dragged me into the dressing room, completely excited and riding high from the play. As she went to change out of her costume, the boy on crutches hobbled in.
"Hello. How are you holding up?" I ask, determined to give him the benefit of the doubt
"Fine" He bit back
"Good for you, still doing the play with a fresh break! Good job!"
"Eh."
"What did you break?"
"Ankle."
At this point, Kaila walked back in, breezing by him toward me, to hang up her costume. He sent another glare her way, included me in it, and left the room. Came back in a few minutes later, as we were getting ready to leave. "Bye!" I said. He shrugged, scowled at my kid once more, and we were gone.
"Mom. I have to tell you something."
"What's that, Kaila?"
"You said I couldn't step away, and to be nice up on stage during the dance thing."
"Yes. You didn't look at him quite like you were going to beat him to death with his crutches tonight."
"Well. He kept getting closer and closer and closer. So, I had my hands on my sword, between us. You know, still in the sheath? Well, I just kept swaying with him and swinging my hands and body enough to hit him as hard as I could with it. I figured he would stop getting so close. And it worked!"
Oh goodness. What do you say? She can certainly hold her own.
On my way out the door to the play last night, Bearded Man's sister came over with a wrapped package for me. It had circles with things written on them taped all over it. "What's this?"
"My friend sometimes reads your Blogs with me. She sent this over for you!"
Upon opening it, I discover a book titled "1001 Things it Means to be a Mom" Wow! How neat was that??
Some of my favorite gems from the book so far?
Being a Mom means deciding that this whole "Balanced Life" thing is a myth
Being a mom means explaining to your toddler why people don't swing on chandeliers
Being a mom means suddenly realizing that your child has spent two hours drawing on himself with permanent markers
Being a Mom means believing your children are hearing impaired since they don't seem to hear a thing you say.
Loving this book! So, thank you, Marrilee! It is much appreciated!
I was hesitant, as, Kaila already has a pretty full plate, but, she was all for it. The Pirates of Penzance was the play selection this year. My kid made her debut in an operetta. A pretty big undertaking for Middle/High kids!
For the last 2 months, Kaila has had daily practices. Every evening for 2 hours, then 4 hours, and then on weekends. Sometimes for more than 5 hours. The poor kid was just exhausted. Some nights I was waiting up for her to finish late night home work sessions, so we could go to bed.
Through it all, Kaila would come home fuming about one of the other pirates. Evidently he spent the last 2 months tormenting her. He didn't think a girl should be playing a pirate. (She was the only girl pirate) He thought she was too young (he is a grade ahead of her) He wanted her sword. He announced he didn't like her. He called her names. A serious feud between these two pirates was forged.
Last week, Kaila came home completely despondent. This other pirate had pointed out that, at the end of the show, everyone is dancing with a partner. Except himself and Kaila. And, that he thought it would be a good idea for the two of them to have to waltz, too. Kaila was adamant. This was NOT happening. Absolutely no way, was she dancing with the boy who had been torturing her for two months strait. This was catastrophic.
Then, the night before the play, Kaila came bounding into my truck all smiles after practice. And announced she didn't have to dance with "That Boy" anymore, as he had broken his leg during wrestling. The relief was great. Now she could enjoy the play. Also, she had found out that she was in the top 10 in her grade for Science! I was so happy she was keeping up with her grades, with the commitment to this play.
The day of the play dawned, and the E Mails began. "Hi Mom! Andrew wants to come to the play. He doesn't have a ride. Could you pick him up and bring him? Please?"
"Hi Kaila, I will call his Mom."
"Hi! This is Andy! Can you pick me up from wrestling practice at 5:00 if I can go? It's at the elementary school. If I can't go, can you just tell me how great she was?"
OMG. How can I NOT take this poor kid along, after that? So, I called his mother, and got permission.
"Hi Andy! We are going to pick you up and bring you to our house for dinner, then you can go with us to the play. "
"Ummm. What's for dinner?" Really? No pressure there. His mom only butchers her own meat, has laying chickens, milks her cow and goats, makes her own yogurt and cheese, grows her own veggies and herbs.....
"Frozen Wal Mart pizza"
"Okay! See you later!"
When I arrived home from work, this kid was in the kitchen, already friends with Kaila's dog, and soaking up anything and everything we had to say about Kaila. He was such a personable kid. Completely at ease. Until Bearded Man mentioned that Kaila was pretty upset, as the kid with the broken leg was STILL in the play. And worried she would still have to dance with him.
"WHAT? Kaila can't dance! She has two left feet! I had to DRAG her to the dance floor at the Homecoming dance! Who is she dancing with?"
We told him.
"WHO? Oh no! He is a big kid! Between his broken bone and Kaila not being able to dance, he is going to fall and hurt her! She should NOT be allowed to dance with him! It's dangerous! Besides, he is not a nice boy. You should not let them dance. It's not safe!"
With a hidden grin, I assured him it would all work out okay.
The play went along without a hitch. Kaila looked so pretty up on stage in all her pirate gear. And, I had to appreciate a kid who had just broken a bone and was still able to participate in this play, crutch under one arm. I decided Kaila probably had been exaggerating a little. The end of the play, I happen to notice Kaila nonchalantly side step around another pirate, neatly putting him between herself and the pirate on the crutch. And I watch the pirate on the crutch look over at Kaila, who was studiously ignoring him. And then I watch him step around the pirate between them, glaring at Kaila. Who promptly scowled back at him. He sidled closer to Kaila, who side stepped away. Earning another glare, which was immediately returned with a look that clearly states "Come near me again, and I will break your other leg, and finish you off by beating you with your own crutch." He determinedly grabbed her and tried to get closer, as everyone danced around them, Kaila shoots him another look, shrugs away, and steps to the side again. I was laughing with tears streaming down my face, and stole a quick peak at Andrew. Who was sitting on the edge of his seat, watching the whole thing intently with narrowed eyes. For the next several minutes, the boy on the stage tried his best to get next to Kaila to sway alongside her for the end of the show, and my kid tried her best to not have to touch him at all, the two of them glaring murderously at each other the entire time.
At the end of the day, I am a mom. And I am a nurse. And I realize that the poor boy on the crutch is probably in a lot of pain and functioning on pain killers. My daughter needed to be nice. So, I instruct her to behave and be nice to this poor kid the next night during the play. I pointed out that, when she broke her wrist 2 years ago, she cried for days and was completely unable to function. This boy was in the school play in a heavy costume the day after breaking a bone! I didn't think it was a broken leg, but, he had definitely broken something near his foot.
The next night the play seemed to be going well. They were actually smiling at each other on stage! I was hopeful that the end would be better the second night than it had the first. The second night, the pirate on the crutch was not wearing a fake beard, and I was kind of surprised by how grown up this kid looked. Wasn't he only supposed to be 13?
As they headed into the end of the play, and into the dance scene, I held my breath. And tried not to laugh. I watched my daughter tense up as the pirate on the crutch sent a look her way. I watched her face change from happy to blank, as the pirate came closer. She did not step away, but did lean away a little. And became completely stiff, staring into the distance, refusing to sway with him. He kept getting closer and closer, and I saw her jaw tense as she glared into the distance. Even I was becoming alarmed, watching this boy edge closer and closer, glaring at Kaila the entire time. Who absolutely refused to look at him. Oh goodness. I took a picture, and figured it was in that boy's best interest to make himself scarce after the show. I wasn't too sure I would rescue the boy again.
After the show, Kaila came and found me, and dragged me into the dressing room, completely excited and riding high from the play. As she went to change out of her costume, the boy on crutches hobbled in.
"Hello. How are you holding up?" I ask, determined to give him the benefit of the doubt
"Fine" He bit back
"Good for you, still doing the play with a fresh break! Good job!"
"Eh."
"What did you break?"
"Ankle."
At this point, Kaila walked back in, breezing by him toward me, to hang up her costume. He sent another glare her way, included me in it, and left the room. Came back in a few minutes later, as we were getting ready to leave. "Bye!" I said. He shrugged, scowled at my kid once more, and we were gone.
"Mom. I have to tell you something."
"What's that, Kaila?"
"You said I couldn't step away, and to be nice up on stage during the dance thing."
"Yes. You didn't look at him quite like you were going to beat him to death with his crutches tonight."
"Well. He kept getting closer and closer and closer. So, I had my hands on my sword, between us. You know, still in the sheath? Well, I just kept swaying with him and swinging my hands and body enough to hit him as hard as I could with it. I figured he would stop getting so close. And it worked!"
Oh goodness. What do you say? She can certainly hold her own.
On my way out the door to the play last night, Bearded Man's sister came over with a wrapped package for me. It had circles with things written on them taped all over it. "What's this?"
"My friend sometimes reads your Blogs with me. She sent this over for you!"
Upon opening it, I discover a book titled "1001 Things it Means to be a Mom" Wow! How neat was that??
Some of my favorite gems from the book so far?
Being a Mom means deciding that this whole "Balanced Life" thing is a myth
Being a mom means explaining to your toddler why people don't swing on chandeliers
Being a mom means suddenly realizing that your child has spent two hours drawing on himself with permanent markers
Being a Mom means believing your children are hearing impaired since they don't seem to hear a thing you say.
Loving this book! So, thank you, Marrilee! It is much appreciated!
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Ohhhh, George.
Recently I posted on Facebook that, it was in George's best interest that I had to work that day. By 7:00 AM, I had had it with the child. No charming smiles or big blue not so innocent eyes were melting me that day. I stomped out of the house fuming. Because, in the last week or so he has:
Taken a Sharpie marker to the (stainless steel) refrigerator, the hardwood floors in the living room, the stair posts, the kitchen table. AND benches. Both of them. The TV screen, The wall paper, several books, and important papers, his face, arms and belly, the couch (You know, the one I am still paying for????) and assorted toys. I probably missed a few things in there.
He has also: dug several different kinds of light bulbs out of the kitchen cupboard, the one above the counters. Where the light bulbs are kept on the top shelf, out of normal children's reach, and then thrown them down the stairs, to see if/how they break. It seems the bigger they are, the worse the damage. The night light bulbs fare best. It takes a few tumbles and a pretty hard throw, to get them to break.
Thrown matchbox cars at his siblings
purposely erased the only game I play - 557 levels and more than 2 million points - off the ipad. It's gone. He's grounded from it indefinitely.
Knocked over an entire gallon pitcher of iced tea all over the dining room
Poured bottles of water in large puddles in several different rooms, "Just because"
Cheerfully taken his siblings' Halloween candy and, either eaten it, or handed it out to whomever it doesn't belong to.
Tormented his brother at 5:30 in the morning, by turning the TV off, and standing in front of it. Causing unholy shrieking and screaming by Joe, thus waking up the entire household
Informed all and sundry that he could really use an ice cold beer. (Thank you, Blake Shelton, and your "Boys 'Round Here" song.) Insisting he is a man, and should be allowed to drink one occasionally.
I could probably go on and on for some time. Usually, the child manages to pull it all off with such charm and charisma, that he gets off pitifully easily. Not lately. My older sister thinks he is the coolest thing ever, and offered to take him. I said she would not only send him back, but bill me for the damages, as well.
Yesterday I took a mental health and catch up on laundry day off of work. George and I had a serious discussion about Santa Claus.
"Mom. If you don't know where to put the Christmas tree this year, you can put it in my room. And all the presents under my bed."
"Oh yeah? You are aware that Santa only brings presents to GOOD kids, right?"
Enthusiastic nodding, "Yep!"
"And, do you think you have been really really good this year?"
"Yep!" More nodding.
"Soooooo, what do you think Santa will think about all the marker all over the house? Or the stamp prints all the way up the stair wall? You know, the green stamp marks you made aaaallll the way up the stairs?"
"Get me some tape, and I will cover it up. Santa will never know. And, I will give him extra cookies."
The thought you are all thinking right now is, "Where the heck are the parents, while this child is getting into all this trouble? Your 3 year old cannot do this all, unless he is being completely neglected! What the heck kind of parents are you?? It's a wonder the poor child hasn't fallen off the counter, or cut himself on the broken light bulb glass!"
The thing is; We ARE there! usually within a few feet, or right in the next room, or even in the same room. He is just so QUIET about it, that you don't see it, till it's too late. And, a lot of times, these things happen when I am not at home. His favorite lines in times of trouble are "A NINJA did it, Mom!!! I SAW him!" or, "You didn't SEE me do it, so, you can't know I did it." Followed by: "You did not get any snuggles today. Lets go snuggle now!"
He isn't ALL bad though. He knew I recently had a bad day at work, and not only let me play with his monster trucks, but got up no less than 4 times throughout the night, to make sure I was okay. "Mom. Mom! MOM!! Are you asleep? I think I should come in bed with you, so you don't have a bad night. Is your day better? Are you still having a bad day? I will make you feel better. I just need to... MOM! MOVE. OVER!!!! I AM TRYING TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER!!! There. Okay. I am all snuggled in now. Feel better, Mom?"
"Mom. I have to go potty now."
"Uuuggghh. Then go downstairs and go potty."
"You need to come with me."
"Uggghhh."
I can only imagine what the teen years with this child will be like. My goal is to just get him to adulthood on the right side of the law, and in one piece.
Taken a Sharpie marker to the (stainless steel) refrigerator, the hardwood floors in the living room, the stair posts, the kitchen table. AND benches. Both of them. The TV screen, The wall paper, several books, and important papers, his face, arms and belly, the couch (You know, the one I am still paying for????) and assorted toys. I probably missed a few things in there.
He has also: dug several different kinds of light bulbs out of the kitchen cupboard, the one above the counters. Where the light bulbs are kept on the top shelf, out of normal children's reach, and then thrown them down the stairs, to see if/how they break. It seems the bigger they are, the worse the damage. The night light bulbs fare best. It takes a few tumbles and a pretty hard throw, to get them to break.
Thrown matchbox cars at his siblings
purposely erased the only game I play - 557 levels and more than 2 million points - off the ipad. It's gone. He's grounded from it indefinitely.
Knocked over an entire gallon pitcher of iced tea all over the dining room
Poured bottles of water in large puddles in several different rooms, "Just because"
Cheerfully taken his siblings' Halloween candy and, either eaten it, or handed it out to whomever it doesn't belong to.
Tormented his brother at 5:30 in the morning, by turning the TV off, and standing in front of it. Causing unholy shrieking and screaming by Joe, thus waking up the entire household
Informed all and sundry that he could really use an ice cold beer. (Thank you, Blake Shelton, and your "Boys 'Round Here" song.) Insisting he is a man, and should be allowed to drink one occasionally.
I could probably go on and on for some time. Usually, the child manages to pull it all off with such charm and charisma, that he gets off pitifully easily. Not lately. My older sister thinks he is the coolest thing ever, and offered to take him. I said she would not only send him back, but bill me for the damages, as well.
Yesterday I took a mental health and catch up on laundry day off of work. George and I had a serious discussion about Santa Claus.
"Mom. If you don't know where to put the Christmas tree this year, you can put it in my room. And all the presents under my bed."
"Oh yeah? You are aware that Santa only brings presents to GOOD kids, right?"
Enthusiastic nodding, "Yep!"
"And, do you think you have been really really good this year?"
"Yep!" More nodding.
"Soooooo, what do you think Santa will think about all the marker all over the house? Or the stamp prints all the way up the stair wall? You know, the green stamp marks you made aaaallll the way up the stairs?"
"Get me some tape, and I will cover it up. Santa will never know. And, I will give him extra cookies."
The thought you are all thinking right now is, "Where the heck are the parents, while this child is getting into all this trouble? Your 3 year old cannot do this all, unless he is being completely neglected! What the heck kind of parents are you?? It's a wonder the poor child hasn't fallen off the counter, or cut himself on the broken light bulb glass!"
The thing is; We ARE there! usually within a few feet, or right in the next room, or even in the same room. He is just so QUIET about it, that you don't see it, till it's too late. And, a lot of times, these things happen when I am not at home. His favorite lines in times of trouble are "A NINJA did it, Mom!!! I SAW him!" or, "You didn't SEE me do it, so, you can't know I did it." Followed by: "You did not get any snuggles today. Lets go snuggle now!"
He isn't ALL bad though. He knew I recently had a bad day at work, and not only let me play with his monster trucks, but got up no less than 4 times throughout the night, to make sure I was okay. "Mom. Mom! MOM!! Are you asleep? I think I should come in bed with you, so you don't have a bad night. Is your day better? Are you still having a bad day? I will make you feel better. I just need to... MOM! MOVE. OVER!!!! I AM TRYING TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER!!! There. Okay. I am all snuggled in now. Feel better, Mom?"
"Mom. I have to go potty now."
"Uuuggghh. Then go downstairs and go potty."
"You need to come with me."
"Uggghhh."
I can only imagine what the teen years with this child will be like. My goal is to just get him to adulthood on the right side of the law, and in one piece.
Monday, October 21, 2013
Adventures in Nursing
Anyone here who is also friends with me on Facebook, knows I have been working not only for the VA, but, moonlighting on the side as an Agency Nurse. I am not quite sure what I think about that term. I feel like it should make me feel either really really cool, or, like I should be ashamed to announce that I am from "The Agency". I haven't decided.
Anyhow, usually on Thursdays or Fridays, I receive a call from The Agency I work for, letting me know I have work, and where I am to report to, for that particular weekend. And, I have found that, working for an agency is slightly terrifying.
Most of the jobs I end up with are somewhere in the Buffalo area. Several have been in some not so wonderful neighborhoods. Cell phone law? Speeding? HA! The Buffalo PD has no time for that nonsense. Unless you are waving a pistol, dealing drugs from your trunk, or actively chasing someone with a machete, you are probably not going to be bothered, as you attempt to find your way to wherever you must be, using some inventive driving skills.
The other day, right across the road from where I was to report, was 4 police cars with the lights on, and an unmarked car, also with flashing lights. Official looking people were standing all around, inside the circle of cars, looking solemn. Well hell. I park across the road from the building I was to report to; in the very dark very deserted parking lot. (Agency Nurses are not permitted to park in the regular parking lot, as per the seedy looking security officer at the desk.) And trek over to the building. I should know better by now, than to be all cheerful and optimistic. I should know that things rarely end well at this particular place. And I should know that, at some point, I am going to have to call on sources of strength I didn't know I possessed, to stay there, with a calm facade, and try like hell not to run away as fast and far as I can from this place.
The other day was no different. I had no access to narcotics, and the nurse that needed to pull them took awhile to get them. Then handed me an entire Styrofoam cup full of assorted narcotics, which took awhile to sort out, and figure out what went where. As a patient loudly demanded his pain medication. Loudly and frequently. And then louder and more frequently. I was informed that, this patient had scheduled pain medication, and then 'as needed' pain medication. And, he wanted all of it. All the time. Preferably yesterday. And, here was an Agency nurse, with no access to the pain medication.
By the end of the evening, after being given every last possible pain medication he could be given, the nurse who had to pull out all the narcotics for me walked into his room, where, he informed her he had a surprise for her. And chucked a urinal full of his urine, saved just for her, right at her head. Followed by a bottle of water, and his phone. All the while screaming and swearing at her, for not making sure he had his pain meds early. At which, the nurse called security, and the Buffalo PD, and the supervisor, and the family, and patient was subsequently charged with assault, and transferred to a psych facility. While the family members threatened retaliation lawsuits. All this over a relatively minor surgery recovery. And an addiction to narcotics.
On the way out, the patient grabbed my hand, as we were surrounded by police, ambulance crew and screaming family members, and informed me I was the best nurse ever, and his problems weren't with me, and that I was a "Damn fine nurse". And then hugged me.
As I walked out, okay, skipped quickly, and trying to make it look like I was relaxed and nonchalant, while fierce and scary, and convey I was not at all worried about walking to my truck, and could drop kick an entire gang, if need be, all I could think was, "Is this job worth it?" and, "It's kind of nice to have some excitement in my job again, since leaving the Buffalo VA." then, "I probably need a psych work up myself, for even thinking that."
All this combined made me exactly the wrong person for my older sister to drag along to a Bridal show, the next day. I had gotten home and to bed around 1 AM, and the kids were up at 5:50 AM. I had promised her I would go to the Bridal Show, to try and get ideas for her wedding next May. I was probably less than awesome. More like grouchy, honestly. And, she had failed to mention her soon to be sister in law, and 2 other people were following us to the show, as well.
"Riah. What color do you like?" She inquires, sweeping her hand in the general direction of a display of table cloths.
"Ange. It is not up to ME. It's YOUR wedding. What color do YOU like? You NEED to pick a color for this wedding!"
"Oh, I really don't care. You two" She points between myself and her soon to be sister in law. "Are going to be be the ones decorating and doing everything, and figuring everything out. YOU decide! I just want a pig roast at the end of it!"
Soon to be Sister in Law glares at me. And I glare back. "Ange!!!!" I whisper in a shriek, "What the hell do you MEAN, 'WE' are putting this together, and doing everything!!!! I haven't even MET this person until today!"
"So? You two can figure it all out."
"I don't know if we even LIKE each other! Okay. Breathe. Don't be a drama queen. Okay. Pig Roast? We could go all country. Maybe checkered table clothes, hay bale seating, candles in mason jars, denim...."
"NO!!!"
"No, what?"
"I want it to be CLASSY!"
"You want a PIG ROAST, and HEAVY METAL MUSIC!!!!"
"But classy!"
"Ummm," interrupts soon to be sister in law, "We all, including my brother, HATE her music. WE like COUNTRY music!" She glares at me.
"Yeah?" I snap back, "Well I HATE country music!"
"Yeah, so, probably we won't have a DJ or anything...." Mummers my sister.
"You just entered several door prize giveaways for DJ's" I pointed out.
"Oh look! Ice cream carts! Wouldn't that be fun to have at the reception!" My sister heads off toward ice cream samples.
And so the show went. It was seriously awkward. And now, after some sleep, I feel all bad, about not being nicer to her soon to be sister in law. I have the ability to charm a psychotic patient, but, not the good manners to welcome my sister's future family. Even if she DOES like Country music....
Therefore, I have resolved to play nice, and help plan a wedding that is country, casual, classy, no specific colors, but no denim, rustic but no hay bales or checkered table cloths, it needs to have fairy lights strung on a fence, heavy metal music, country music, a pig, possibly some ice cream, and help find a dress, otherwise one of the show tagalongs will make one by hand. And, do so nicely,with the future sister in law. With relatively no input from my sister, who is pretty sure she knows what she wants, but not, and, who 'just knows you will make it all perfect! PS, with help from this random person who wants to help too!'
Oh, and train for the Mudderella, which is supposed to take place the week after this blessed event. (I typed 'Blessed event' with gritted teeth. Because, I don't think I'm nearly as nice as I thought I used to be. Maybe I wasn't ever? Anyhow, I imagine I will need a full dental work up by the end of this.)
As for training for the Mudderella? Hasn't happened yet. This chest cold is still happily occupying my lungs, and more and more frequently, breathing is a fun little challenge. I am confident it will eventually decide I am a pretty boring body, and wander away. Meanwhile, stocks in cough drops and mucinex are probably a good thing, if anyone is looking for tips....
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Weepy and Tempermental
It's been awhile. Let's see where the keyboard takes us today!
Things have been busy around the Dick Establishment. Over the last week or so, I have been informed by a neighbor I am a lousy mother; She tripped over the kids' bike ramp, and further, does not approve of "That poor sweet little blond boy that lives here, riding a two wheeler. It is inappropriate. And the bike ramp is completely negligent, and none of these kids should be jumping it!!" Yeah well. It's been raised twice already. The ramp has been put on furlough, and The Poor Sweet Little Blond Boy is not giving up the bike. She is welcome to try....
I did, however, make the kids take her flowers, and apologize. Neither of which was graciously received. Ah well, you can't win them all, right?
Also, in the past week or so, I took my 12 year old to go buy a Home Coming dress. We had heard about this wonderful new place in Olean that sells dresses, and headed out, on a rare day that I didn't have to work. It was fun, but bittersweet. Where the heck did my baby go? Wasn't she just born? And, the realization hit me, that, I am done with babies! No more sippy cups, Disney princess toys, toddler dress up clothes and big plastic beaded jewelry. No more tea sets or baby dolls or baby swings or high chairs or diapers or bottles or cribs or strollers. Wow. When did this all happen?
I sat in a velvet covered chair, in front of a dressing room, and watched this pretty young lady hesitantly peek around the curtains, and ask if I could check out her dress, or zip her up, or find more. I watched her look at herself in the mirror, only slightly shorter than I am, and wondered where time went. Now my kid is getting ready to go to her first "Real" dance, and I am almost the mother of a real, honest to goodness teenager.
The dress was not allowed to be frilly, princess-y, ruffly, pouf-y, glittery, sequin-y, sparkly, or pink. Preferably, it needed to be camo, but, in the absence of that, it could be brown, green or orange. Which just about killed poor tag along Lexy, who is all about big, frilly, ruffly, swirly, poufy, sparkly princess dresses. In pink.
We did find the perfect dress, in mostly brown, with teal blue satin around the waist. It was absolutely the right dress for her, and everyone was happy. (Except Lexi, who's eyes sparkled with tears she tried to hide, as she didn't get a dress.....poor kid. It'll be her turn soon enough...) Everything was perfect, including the fact that, Kaila had actually been asked to the dance by a boy. I know, I know. "WHAT?? YOU ARE LETTING YOUR 12 YEAR OLD DAUGHTER GO ON A DATE WITH A BOY??? WHAT THE HECK KIND OF MOTHER ARE YOU??!!!!!" Out of your system now? Good. You should have let me finish. Anyhow, this boy has had an on and off crush on Kaila since the 3rd grade. They rarely can think of a thing to say to each other, but, I have admire his persistence and spine. For Valentine's Day this year, he even bought her a Hallmark Valentine card. And gave it to her in person. The ENTIRE school knew, from the staff, to the student body.
That he was able to ask her to the Home Coming is really sweet. I figured they would be extremely uncomfortable, and spend the entire 2 hours no able to talk much to each other. And think it the best night EVER.
However, possible tragedy has occurred. The boy in question is on the school football team, and they made it to the Playoffs. Saturday night. No date for Kaila. Oh no.
She took it like a champ though, and there is the possibility that (a) the game time may be changed, or, (b) another dance may be planned, to accommodate all the players and cheerleaders.
The point of the story being, that, my kids are growing too quickly, I am getting old, my child is, thankfully not dramatic, and okay going, with or without a date, and my child is completely NOT a girly-girl. She was actually overheard saying she would rather be in jeans and a tee shirt, practicing with her bow in the woods. Not that they get to the woods very often. Which calls to question once more, my parenting, but, we do what we can.
In other news, the weather around here is unsure if it wants to be hot or cold. Bearded Man has announced that the house, (which is 3.5/4ths scraped) will probably get painted next year. The weather just is not steady enough to try it now. Or maybe we should think about siding it. So, apologies to the neighbors, who probably talk about the trials of living next to this crazy unsightly house, with the loud children who are doing inappropriate things, like riding 2 wheelers and jumping a 5 inch wooden ramp. Please take note, however, of the corn stalks decorating the porch, and the hay bale that I tramped through my older sister's boyfriend's father's creature filled farm to procure. In scrubs and work sneakers no less. And the Mums. I have beautiful Mums this year. So, just admire the cornstalks, and please don't look at the house...
There isn't much more excitement. I have been busy working at the VA during the week, and working for a nursing agency on the weekends. I never know where I am going to end up, or what I will be doing from one weekend to the next. It adds to the adventure, I suppose. I think it's getting to me though. I have had this chest cold for the last 3 weeks, that seems to have decided my body is a lovely property with lots of potential to grow, thus, seems to have signed a lifetime lease. Yay. That being said, this past weekend, I was tired and achy and miserable, and not in the mood to go to work. I ended up as the only nurse on a 20 bed dementia unit. And, as tough as I am, almost burst into tears. People were screaming and crying and someone had just attacked another person, and I was informed I would have to deal with the fall out from the family. I had never been to this floor, knew no one, and, one of the 2 aides I had, was new. I was tired and overwhelmed and had come to work unprofessionally stressed out, to begin with. Added to, the fact that my GPS had decided not to work, and I had gotten almost lost on the way there. Good times. However, it all went fine, everyone lived through it, including me, and eventually everyone calmed down. I did receive a message from Bearded Man, inquiring as to how my evening was going. I have to admit, I shot back a text stating that I didn't like anyone I hadn't given birth to, currently....
The big adventure came on the drive home. Thank God my family never ever reads my Blog, because I would never live it down.... but I got lost. In Buffalo. Which is absurd, because I learned how to DRIVE in Buffalo! All the Fishers know Buffalo! But, Sunday, I got lost. Lost lost. I knew the roads, but couldn't remember where they went. It was humiliating. I could imagine my brothers all laughing at me. It was dark, I was tired, and once again, almost in tears.
I finally found my way home, and stomped through the house, past Bearded Man, asleep in my recliner, and got ready for bed. I'm a girl. I can have the occasional weepy spell, or tantrum. I thinks it's in the female handbook someplace.
Okay. Now that I have told you all essentially that, my neighbor thinks I'm a lousy mom, I am getting old, and, it seems, weepy and temperamental, that I cannot drive without a GPS - and my house looks awful - I suppose I have created enough damage. Till next time!
Things have been busy around the Dick Establishment. Over the last week or so, I have been informed by a neighbor I am a lousy mother; She tripped over the kids' bike ramp, and further, does not approve of "That poor sweet little blond boy that lives here, riding a two wheeler. It is inappropriate. And the bike ramp is completely negligent, and none of these kids should be jumping it!!" Yeah well. It's been raised twice already. The ramp has been put on furlough, and The Poor Sweet Little Blond Boy is not giving up the bike. She is welcome to try....
I did, however, make the kids take her flowers, and apologize. Neither of which was graciously received. Ah well, you can't win them all, right?
Also, in the past week or so, I took my 12 year old to go buy a Home Coming dress. We had heard about this wonderful new place in Olean that sells dresses, and headed out, on a rare day that I didn't have to work. It was fun, but bittersweet. Where the heck did my baby go? Wasn't she just born? And, the realization hit me, that, I am done with babies! No more sippy cups, Disney princess toys, toddler dress up clothes and big plastic beaded jewelry. No more tea sets or baby dolls or baby swings or high chairs or diapers or bottles or cribs or strollers. Wow. When did this all happen?
I sat in a velvet covered chair, in front of a dressing room, and watched this pretty young lady hesitantly peek around the curtains, and ask if I could check out her dress, or zip her up, or find more. I watched her look at herself in the mirror, only slightly shorter than I am, and wondered where time went. Now my kid is getting ready to go to her first "Real" dance, and I am almost the mother of a real, honest to goodness teenager.
The dress was not allowed to be frilly, princess-y, ruffly, pouf-y, glittery, sequin-y, sparkly, or pink. Preferably, it needed to be camo, but, in the absence of that, it could be brown, green or orange. Which just about killed poor tag along Lexy, who is all about big, frilly, ruffly, swirly, poufy, sparkly princess dresses. In pink.
We did find the perfect dress, in mostly brown, with teal blue satin around the waist. It was absolutely the right dress for her, and everyone was happy. (Except Lexi, who's eyes sparkled with tears she tried to hide, as she didn't get a dress.....poor kid. It'll be her turn soon enough...) Everything was perfect, including the fact that, Kaila had actually been asked to the dance by a boy. I know, I know. "WHAT?? YOU ARE LETTING YOUR 12 YEAR OLD DAUGHTER GO ON A DATE WITH A BOY??? WHAT THE HECK KIND OF MOTHER ARE YOU??!!!!!" Out of your system now? Good. You should have let me finish. Anyhow, this boy has had an on and off crush on Kaila since the 3rd grade. They rarely can think of a thing to say to each other, but, I have admire his persistence and spine. For Valentine's Day this year, he even bought her a Hallmark Valentine card. And gave it to her in person. The ENTIRE school knew, from the staff, to the student body.
That he was able to ask her to the Home Coming is really sweet. I figured they would be extremely uncomfortable, and spend the entire 2 hours no able to talk much to each other. And think it the best night EVER.
However, possible tragedy has occurred. The boy in question is on the school football team, and they made it to the Playoffs. Saturday night. No date for Kaila. Oh no.
She took it like a champ though, and there is the possibility that (a) the game time may be changed, or, (b) another dance may be planned, to accommodate all the players and cheerleaders.
The point of the story being, that, my kids are growing too quickly, I am getting old, my child is, thankfully not dramatic, and okay going, with or without a date, and my child is completely NOT a girly-girl. She was actually overheard saying she would rather be in jeans and a tee shirt, practicing with her bow in the woods. Not that they get to the woods very often. Which calls to question once more, my parenting, but, we do what we can.
In other news, the weather around here is unsure if it wants to be hot or cold. Bearded Man has announced that the house, (which is 3.5/4ths scraped) will probably get painted next year. The weather just is not steady enough to try it now. Or maybe we should think about siding it. So, apologies to the neighbors, who probably talk about the trials of living next to this crazy unsightly house, with the loud children who are doing inappropriate things, like riding 2 wheelers and jumping a 5 inch wooden ramp. Please take note, however, of the corn stalks decorating the porch, and the hay bale that I tramped through my older sister's boyfriend's father's creature filled farm to procure. In scrubs and work sneakers no less. And the Mums. I have beautiful Mums this year. So, just admire the cornstalks, and please don't look at the house...
There isn't much more excitement. I have been busy working at the VA during the week, and working for a nursing agency on the weekends. I never know where I am going to end up, or what I will be doing from one weekend to the next. It adds to the adventure, I suppose. I think it's getting to me though. I have had this chest cold for the last 3 weeks, that seems to have decided my body is a lovely property with lots of potential to grow, thus, seems to have signed a lifetime lease. Yay. That being said, this past weekend, I was tired and achy and miserable, and not in the mood to go to work. I ended up as the only nurse on a 20 bed dementia unit. And, as tough as I am, almost burst into tears. People were screaming and crying and someone had just attacked another person, and I was informed I would have to deal with the fall out from the family. I had never been to this floor, knew no one, and, one of the 2 aides I had, was new. I was tired and overwhelmed and had come to work unprofessionally stressed out, to begin with. Added to, the fact that my GPS had decided not to work, and I had gotten almost lost on the way there. Good times. However, it all went fine, everyone lived through it, including me, and eventually everyone calmed down. I did receive a message from Bearded Man, inquiring as to how my evening was going. I have to admit, I shot back a text stating that I didn't like anyone I hadn't given birth to, currently....
The big adventure came on the drive home. Thank God my family never ever reads my Blog, because I would never live it down.... but I got lost. In Buffalo. Which is absurd, because I learned how to DRIVE in Buffalo! All the Fishers know Buffalo! But, Sunday, I got lost. Lost lost. I knew the roads, but couldn't remember where they went. It was humiliating. I could imagine my brothers all laughing at me. It was dark, I was tired, and once again, almost in tears.
I finally found my way home, and stomped through the house, past Bearded Man, asleep in my recliner, and got ready for bed. I'm a girl. I can have the occasional weepy spell, or tantrum. I thinks it's in the female handbook someplace.
Okay. Now that I have told you all essentially that, my neighbor thinks I'm a lousy mom, I am getting old, and, it seems, weepy and temperamental, that I cannot drive without a GPS - and my house looks awful - I suppose I have created enough damage. Till next time!
Monday, September 30, 2013
I'm a Good Girl, I Am!
Recently, there was a series of Facebook messages, that went along the lines as such:
"Dear Moriah
Please accept my Facebook friend request. I saw your picture, while looking for an old friend, and it intrigued me. You have look like such a kind and humorous person, that I just had to ask you for friend request. I am from Brussels, Belgium, but I live here in United State now. I am Independant Civil Engineer.
Hope to hear from you soon, but if I do not, I understand.
Regards,
Daniel"
Wow. All that from my profile picture, in which I am half covered by two of my kids? Okay.
"Hello Daniel,
Wow! Thank you! Welcome to Facebook!
Moriah"
"Dear Beautiful Angel,
Thank you so much for accepting my request! You have such beautiful eyes! I feel such connection to you! I am widower. My late wife and my 2 children dies in a terrible Christmas season plane crash over Sweden, where my wife was from. They were visiting my wife's family. I had a boy and a girl. John, 9, and Melissa, 7. I am ready to move on now. I am born in 1960, but age is just number, yes?
Regards,
Daniel"
Oh my goodness.
"Hello,
How very tragic. And during the Christmas season, too. So sorry for your loss.
Moriah"
"Dearest Pretty Angel,
I think we have so much in common together! I am heading out for a contract on the Gulf of America, and will be gone for 10 days. Please pray for me and my crew. I am very Godly man, and God has become such big part of my life. I thank him for bringing you into my life. He has answered my prayers, after years of such grief! God is my reason for living. He has saved me. I will need to go by helicopter to the oil rig. I do contracting for mostly oil rigging. I think you may be my soul mate. I will be praying for you, my angel.
Warm Regards,
Daniel"
"Hello,
I am very much a married person, with 4 young children. I am pretty sure the Lord would frown upon anything more than friendship....
Moriah"
"Dearest Morial
The Lord will find a way! It is meant to be. I am falling for you. Let me tell you about myself. I am 6 years old in 1965, my mother dies giving birth to me. I live with my wealthy father and his brothers. I am only child. I grew up with my cousins and nephew, as if they are brothers and sisters. When my father dies 10 years ago, my uncles took his estate and sold it all, leaving me, his son, nothing. They even tries to kill me!
It is in the past now. I grew up Catholic, in that we went to church on Sunday and said prayers, but no God the rest of the week. I am now so much closer to the Lord. I teach youth ministry classes now. Do you like kids? Yes I like kids. But, they must go home sometimes, so I can enjoy my spouse, if I had one. I would be a good and Godly father to kids. I demand respect from them. It keeps them good and respectful. You will make wonderful mother.
I cannot wait to hear from you! I enjoy these e mails! I am so happy I joined this dating site! The Lord has brought you to me!
Warm Regards and Prayers that you have an awesome day,
Daniel"
"Daniel,
I continue to be married. We are celebrating our 15th anniversary next month. I am already a mother of 4 children, and am unable to have more. I think, as a Godly man, you would understand that the Lord REALLY does not approve of married women running off with other men....
Also, Facebook is NOT a dating site. It's more of a 'hang out with friends' site.
Are you referring to your own children returning home? Where are they now? Also, I cannot find you online at all. Do you go by another name? You have such a fascinating life!
Moriah"
"Darling sweetheart,
I am obsessed by you! I cannot wait to read your mailings! We have so much in common! We think the same ways! My late wife and my 2 children dies in a terrible Christmas season plane crash over Sweden, where my wife was from. They were visiting my wife's family. I had a boy and a girl. John, 9, and Melissa, 7. I am ready to move on now. I am born in 1960, but age is just number, yes? Please send me your personal cell phone number, that we may communicate more frequently.
Do you know I have an accent? And I speak fluent Spanish? I will teach you. You will have to show me how to play soccer. I do not know how. Smile. Also, I agree with your thoughts to some extent, on abortion.
I tell you about my education? I went to University of London for Civil Engineer degree. I have traveled all over the world oil rigging. I live in Columbia Maryland now. I will live anywhere, to be near you! I need to be able to come home to you, or you come home to me! I have fallen so hard for you! I love to snuggle and cuddle and kiss. I also cook and clean and do chores. The only thing I expect from you, is to be happy! I am humorous man. I will bring humor and commitment to relationship. I do not believe in frivolous flirting with other people, and will not do so. And I expect the same in return.
Cannot wait to hear from you, my soul mate. May the Angels keep you wrapped in their wings today
Daniel"
"Daniel,
I continue to remain married. I do not recall discussing abortion with you, but, I am very much against it.... Also, I do not know how to play soccer. One of my kids played soccer one summer, but, all I can tell you about it, is that you kick a black and white ball up and down a field, and try to get it in a net....
It is refreshing to hear of a man who is willing to do all the housework! With humor and an accent! You didn't mention... do you have another name?
Moriah"
"Darling Morial,
Your pictures is my computer screen now. I tell you more about myself, yes? I went to university in South Carolina, for Civil Engineer. I am Independant engineer. Sometimes it is hard to get contracts. I do construction when I have no contracts for oil. I live in Cross Hills South Carolina. I have owned homes in London and in Netherlands. My late wife was my first love. I grew up when I was 24, in 1980. She was very successful, but we had very little time for each other, with our careers. I will never again allow a relationship to grow so complacent! I cannot wait to hear from you and your mails again.
Yours,
Daniel"
There were several more along the same lines....
"Daniel,
Okay. I do not have the time or patience for this any longer. It's been fun, seeing how this progresses, but, I am ready to be finished now. Let me tell you what you did wrong:
- Your profile says you were born in 1964. You have written that you were 6 in 1965, and 24 in 1980.
- You are nowhere. I searched. No Daniel Robert, no Daniel Robert Civil Engineer. And you were unable/Unwilling to account for that.
- There was no Christmas season plane crash that killed a mother and 2 children anytime in the last 6 years.
- You should not kill off your wife, kids, mother AND come up with your own family trying to kill you. It takes things to a very unbelievable level.
- Copy and paste. Don't do it. Ever.
- Pick an address and stick with it. You told me you lived in Maryland and South Carolina.
- Tone down the God stuff. I am pretty sure there is a direct path to hell for people who use His name to try and do wrong to others.
- Learn how to spell your mark's name correctly. Constantly mis spelling it is not very professional.
- try to keep track of who you are writing to. It was obvious that you were confusing conversations with me and someone else.
It has been truly fun, and extremely entertaining. It is always nice to have someone say these things, regardless that you are so obviously a scammer. Good luck in your future endeavors. I am probably going to have to report this to Facebook. If a woman is dumb enough to fall for this, however, she almost deserves it.
Regards,
Moriah"
And that is how I dealt with what is called a "Romance Scammer" You can google them. The Internet is a wonderful thing.
"Dear Moriah
Please accept my Facebook friend request. I saw your picture, while looking for an old friend, and it intrigued me. You have look like such a kind and humorous person, that I just had to ask you for friend request. I am from Brussels, Belgium, but I live here in United State now. I am Independant Civil Engineer.
Hope to hear from you soon, but if I do not, I understand.
Regards,
Daniel"
Wow. All that from my profile picture, in which I am half covered by two of my kids? Okay.
"Hello Daniel,
Wow! Thank you! Welcome to Facebook!
Moriah"
"Dear Beautiful Angel,
Thank you so much for accepting my request! You have such beautiful eyes! I feel such connection to you! I am widower. My late wife and my 2 children dies in a terrible Christmas season plane crash over Sweden, where my wife was from. They were visiting my wife's family. I had a boy and a girl. John, 9, and Melissa, 7. I am ready to move on now. I am born in 1960, but age is just number, yes?
Regards,
Daniel"
Oh my goodness.
"Hello,
How very tragic. And during the Christmas season, too. So sorry for your loss.
Moriah"
"Dearest Pretty Angel,
I think we have so much in common together! I am heading out for a contract on the Gulf of America, and will be gone for 10 days. Please pray for me and my crew. I am very Godly man, and God has become such big part of my life. I thank him for bringing you into my life. He has answered my prayers, after years of such grief! God is my reason for living. He has saved me. I will need to go by helicopter to the oil rig. I do contracting for mostly oil rigging. I think you may be my soul mate. I will be praying for you, my angel.
Warm Regards,
Daniel"
"Hello,
I am very much a married person, with 4 young children. I am pretty sure the Lord would frown upon anything more than friendship....
Moriah"
"Dearest Morial
The Lord will find a way! It is meant to be. I am falling for you. Let me tell you about myself. I am 6 years old in 1965, my mother dies giving birth to me. I live with my wealthy father and his brothers. I am only child. I grew up with my cousins and nephew, as if they are brothers and sisters. When my father dies 10 years ago, my uncles took his estate and sold it all, leaving me, his son, nothing. They even tries to kill me!
It is in the past now. I grew up Catholic, in that we went to church on Sunday and said prayers, but no God the rest of the week. I am now so much closer to the Lord. I teach youth ministry classes now. Do you like kids? Yes I like kids. But, they must go home sometimes, so I can enjoy my spouse, if I had one. I would be a good and Godly father to kids. I demand respect from them. It keeps them good and respectful. You will make wonderful mother.
I cannot wait to hear from you! I enjoy these e mails! I am so happy I joined this dating site! The Lord has brought you to me!
Warm Regards and Prayers that you have an awesome day,
Daniel"
"Daniel,
I continue to be married. We are celebrating our 15th anniversary next month. I am already a mother of 4 children, and am unable to have more. I think, as a Godly man, you would understand that the Lord REALLY does not approve of married women running off with other men....
Also, Facebook is NOT a dating site. It's more of a 'hang out with friends' site.
Are you referring to your own children returning home? Where are they now? Also, I cannot find you online at all. Do you go by another name? You have such a fascinating life!
Moriah"
"Darling sweetheart,
I am obsessed by you! I cannot wait to read your mailings! We have so much in common! We think the same ways! My late wife and my 2 children dies in a terrible Christmas season plane crash over Sweden, where my wife was from. They were visiting my wife's family. I had a boy and a girl. John, 9, and Melissa, 7. I am ready to move on now. I am born in 1960, but age is just number, yes? Please send me your personal cell phone number, that we may communicate more frequently.
Do you know I have an accent? And I speak fluent Spanish? I will teach you. You will have to show me how to play soccer. I do not know how. Smile. Also, I agree with your thoughts to some extent, on abortion.
I tell you about my education? I went to University of London for Civil Engineer degree. I have traveled all over the world oil rigging. I live in Columbia Maryland now. I will live anywhere, to be near you! I need to be able to come home to you, or you come home to me! I have fallen so hard for you! I love to snuggle and cuddle and kiss. I also cook and clean and do chores. The only thing I expect from you, is to be happy! I am humorous man. I will bring humor and commitment to relationship. I do not believe in frivolous flirting with other people, and will not do so. And I expect the same in return.
Cannot wait to hear from you, my soul mate. May the Angels keep you wrapped in their wings today
Daniel"
"Daniel,
I continue to remain married. I do not recall discussing abortion with you, but, I am very much against it.... Also, I do not know how to play soccer. One of my kids played soccer one summer, but, all I can tell you about it, is that you kick a black and white ball up and down a field, and try to get it in a net....
It is refreshing to hear of a man who is willing to do all the housework! With humor and an accent! You didn't mention... do you have another name?
Moriah"
"Darling Morial,
Your pictures is my computer screen now. I tell you more about myself, yes? I went to university in South Carolina, for Civil Engineer. I am Independant engineer. Sometimes it is hard to get contracts. I do construction when I have no contracts for oil. I live in Cross Hills South Carolina. I have owned homes in London and in Netherlands. My late wife was my first love. I grew up when I was 24, in 1980. She was very successful, but we had very little time for each other, with our careers. I will never again allow a relationship to grow so complacent! I cannot wait to hear from you and your mails again.
Yours,
Daniel"
There were several more along the same lines....
"Daniel,
Okay. I do not have the time or patience for this any longer. It's been fun, seeing how this progresses, but, I am ready to be finished now. Let me tell you what you did wrong:
- Your profile says you were born in 1964. You have written that you were 6 in 1965, and 24 in 1980.
- You are nowhere. I searched. No Daniel Robert, no Daniel Robert Civil Engineer. And you were unable/Unwilling to account for that.
- There was no Christmas season plane crash that killed a mother and 2 children anytime in the last 6 years.
- You should not kill off your wife, kids, mother AND come up with your own family trying to kill you. It takes things to a very unbelievable level.
- Copy and paste. Don't do it. Ever.
- Pick an address and stick with it. You told me you lived in Maryland and South Carolina.
- Tone down the God stuff. I am pretty sure there is a direct path to hell for people who use His name to try and do wrong to others.
- Learn how to spell your mark's name correctly. Constantly mis spelling it is not very professional.
- try to keep track of who you are writing to. It was obvious that you were confusing conversations with me and someone else.
It has been truly fun, and extremely entertaining. It is always nice to have someone say these things, regardless that you are so obviously a scammer. Good luck in your future endeavors. I am probably going to have to report this to Facebook. If a woman is dumb enough to fall for this, however, she almost deserves it.
Regards,
Moriah"
And that is how I dealt with what is called a "Romance Scammer" You can google them. The Internet is a wonderful thing.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
The Rest of the Story
After my last post about the ghost in my window, my sister had taken the picture I posted on Facebook to a psychic friend of hers. Remember? The one that was able to flip tables with her mind? The psychic has decided that it was indeed, a ghost. Specifically a woman. I looked at the window, saw it was dirty from the dog's nose and the kids grubby fingers, and decided that it was definitely a filthy window, and I am a lousy housewife. Which saves the time and trouble of moving and/or burning the house down. As long as it's a dirty window and not a peeping tom ghost, we're all good. My sister, however, was convinced.
It's a ghost. A woman. My friend the psychic said so! AND, she has 'powers'.
I want those powers! Seriously! I would never again have problems getting my point across to Bearded Man, if I could flip a table or two! AND, maybe he will shave his beard!
Moriah. Seriously. We don't mess with that stuff. It's bad.
But it's okay to utilize these people to decipher my windows?
That's different! You have a ghost. But, she is probably a GOOD ghost, and so, I would just leave her alone.
It is a dirty window, Ange.
It's a ghost! She SAID so!
OMG. I am a bad house cleaner with filthy windows, and obviously not nearly as tough as I always thought I was. It is a dirty window!
Fine. Turn all your lights out, light the same candles, and take it again. I have all these people at the bar (She tends bar on the side), who want to see it. Take another picture!
No. I let the girls stay up to watch the Hallmark Channel Movie.
What is it going to take?
Serious begging in proportion to all the nagging.
How about a whole bottle of Captain Morgan?
Bigger than the sample size?
Yes.
Fine. Next commercial break.... Here is your picture. And, Lexi wants chocolate now - specifically a Hershey's Symphony bar, to make up for the paranormal trauma I have just exposed her to.
Fine. It's the same. Hmm. So. When are you going to wash your filthy windows?
I will add it to the eventual to do list.
And that, is how the ghost saga ended. In other news, I am home nightly for dinner now. Not tonight though, I have to work my second job shortly. Trying to do the whole psych myself up for it thing. The back to school bug has hit our house, and I now know why dragons are so miserable. Every time I cough, it feels like there is fire coming up my throat. How miserable! No wonder they are so angry. I have a whole new respect for dragons. Anyway, I am home for dinner now, and the nightly conversations are always memory making. And, Joe still hates just about everything that I set on the dinner table.
You KNOW I hate this! You don't know anything about me! You have spent over half of my life at work! You don't even know me at all!
Joseph. Seriously. I have not worked away over half of your life. And, if I didn't work, you would starve to death.
The way you keep cooking stuff I hate, I am going to starve to death anyway!
Joe. Honey. I am home now. I am working the new job so I can be home more. And every night. Except on the weekends when I have to work the other place. And then, Dad will be home. Okay? The rest of the time, you are going to be mostly at school.
If you loved me, you would cook stuff I like. Maybe you should work hard enough to hire a cook!
Well. Besides those guilt inducing moments that make you feel like the worst parent ever, things have overall been going well with the new routine. I suppose as a parent, you can only do you best. And hope that, in the adult years, your kids will understand.
There was also the nail in the ice cream incident. Recently Kaila found a nail in vanilla ice cream that I served with berry crisp. I sent a nice calm 'heads up' E mail to the company that sold the ice cream. And received a form letter back. After going round and round, they sent me a $5.00 check and asked me to send the nail to them. At which I discovered the nail was gone. I have no idea where it went, nor does anyone else in the household. That's the end of that story, too.
And, If I ever discover how to flip tables with my mind, I am pretty sure that the Bearded Man would be more amendable to shaving. So, that is added to my list of things to practice. If I figure it out, I will update you to that, as well.
That's all the current excitement in the household for now. Hopefully there is more excitement next time.
It's a ghost. A woman. My friend the psychic said so! AND, she has 'powers'.
I want those powers! Seriously! I would never again have problems getting my point across to Bearded Man, if I could flip a table or two! AND, maybe he will shave his beard!
Moriah. Seriously. We don't mess with that stuff. It's bad.
But it's okay to utilize these people to decipher my windows?
That's different! You have a ghost. But, she is probably a GOOD ghost, and so, I would just leave her alone.
It is a dirty window, Ange.
It's a ghost! She SAID so!
OMG. I am a bad house cleaner with filthy windows, and obviously not nearly as tough as I always thought I was. It is a dirty window!
Fine. Turn all your lights out, light the same candles, and take it again. I have all these people at the bar (She tends bar on the side), who want to see it. Take another picture!
No. I let the girls stay up to watch the Hallmark Channel Movie.
What is it going to take?
Serious begging in proportion to all the nagging.
How about a whole bottle of Captain Morgan?
Bigger than the sample size?
Yes.
Fine. Next commercial break.... Here is your picture. And, Lexi wants chocolate now - specifically a Hershey's Symphony bar, to make up for the paranormal trauma I have just exposed her to.
Fine. It's the same. Hmm. So. When are you going to wash your filthy windows?
I will add it to the eventual to do list.
And that, is how the ghost saga ended. In other news, I am home nightly for dinner now. Not tonight though, I have to work my second job shortly. Trying to do the whole psych myself up for it thing. The back to school bug has hit our house, and I now know why dragons are so miserable. Every time I cough, it feels like there is fire coming up my throat. How miserable! No wonder they are so angry. I have a whole new respect for dragons. Anyway, I am home for dinner now, and the nightly conversations are always memory making. And, Joe still hates just about everything that I set on the dinner table.
You KNOW I hate this! You don't know anything about me! You have spent over half of my life at work! You don't even know me at all!
Joseph. Seriously. I have not worked away over half of your life. And, if I didn't work, you would starve to death.
The way you keep cooking stuff I hate, I am going to starve to death anyway!
Joe. Honey. I am home now. I am working the new job so I can be home more. And every night. Except on the weekends when I have to work the other place. And then, Dad will be home. Okay? The rest of the time, you are going to be mostly at school.
If you loved me, you would cook stuff I like. Maybe you should work hard enough to hire a cook!
Well. Besides those guilt inducing moments that make you feel like the worst parent ever, things have overall been going well with the new routine. I suppose as a parent, you can only do you best. And hope that, in the adult years, your kids will understand.
There was also the nail in the ice cream incident. Recently Kaila found a nail in vanilla ice cream that I served with berry crisp. I sent a nice calm 'heads up' E mail to the company that sold the ice cream. And received a form letter back. After going round and round, they sent me a $5.00 check and asked me to send the nail to them. At which I discovered the nail was gone. I have no idea where it went, nor does anyone else in the household. That's the end of that story, too.
And, If I ever discover how to flip tables with my mind, I am pretty sure that the Bearded Man would be more amendable to shaving. So, that is added to my list of things to practice. If I figure it out, I will update you to that, as well.
That's all the current excitement in the household for now. Hopefully there is more excitement next time.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
It Was A Dark and Stormy Night
Yesterday I wrote this whole post about how I was trying to be organized and scheduled, and am now armed with (unfortunately un-color coded) lists. And the chaos I was afraid would ensue, if the list and routines were not followed.
Well. I completely jinxed myself in a splendid way. Because, within hours of that post, everything that could mess up my neat orderly little week, absolutely did.
I stepped out of my friend Colleen's car (it was her week to drive our carpool to work) to a loud clap of thunder. I should have known then, that it was going to be a rough night.
As I was clearing dinner off the table, a new friend of Lexi's, who just moved in down the street stopped over with her mother, sister and brother. So, out I went, to introduce myself, and before I knew it, her kids and mine were all running around playing together.
The sky became darker and darker, and I suggested to the Mother of Lexi's friend, that we bring her toddler's stroller up onto my front porch, and maybe go inside, as it was thundering and lightening, and rain was imminent. She agreed that this seemed like a good idea, and in we went. Within minutes, the electricity was out, and a strong storm, with whipping winds going all different directions, hail, rain and continuous thunder and lightening swept through. The lights around my front door were ripped off, one of the iron patio tables was thrown over, a tree behind the next door neighbor's house broke in half, and there were reports of a house fire caused by lightening, and downed lines all over the area.
The storm didn't last long, maybe half an hour, and the new neighbor and I got to know each other. Shortly after the storm, all our combined kids tumbled out the front door, to go splash in the massive puddles at the end of our driveway, and any other puddles they could find. Children were running up and down the side walk, as more neighbors came pouring out of their homes, and over to talk about the storm and it's damage, and wonder how long the electric would be out. It was quite the initiation for the new neighbor from down the street. She got to meet lots of people last evening! Through it all, though, I saw my careful lists and plans spiral away like nothing. Lunches were not packed, laundry was not done, dishes were not done - this was NOT on the list!!!!!
Eventually, everyone wandered away, and we went inside to light candles. The kids were all excited, and went to sleep way faster then I thought they would. I wandered around, admiring all the pretty candles, remembering the days before kids and fluffy dogs, when I could safely light candles on an almost nightly basis. My mind wandered.... Wasn't this pretty? And so calm! And serene! And, the Amish people really know their stuff, because this was just so soothing. The Amish people ROCK. They obviously knew that electricity only makes life more stressful, and not less. Maybe I should just become Amish. Bearded Man is constantly after me to can various things. (I haven't a clue as to how to can things...) He is always saying we need to get chickens, and maybe a cow, and a pig, and have our own meat, eggs and produce. I could just become Amish and wear dark clothes (Which are infinitely more flattering to me than colors, it seems.) and learn how to can things and live off the land, and burn lots of candles. Ha! The moment I needed a decent glass of wine, or a stiff Captain Morgan, and had to wash laundry in a barrel, that would go south in a hurry!
Either way, I decided to disappoint Bearded Man, and not become Amish. And to take pictures with my phone. Also frowned upon by the Amish. So, snapping away, I start to take pictures of all the candles. I take the last picture from my favorite spot ever, my recliner.
And then I look at the picture. In the bottom right corner of the window over the love seat, I see a face peeking into the living room window. OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG. I have never ever had that many goosebumps in my WHOLE LIFE. They were massive and painful, and everywhere. I am sure even the ends of my hair had goosebumps.
Lightning was flashing ominously, and I was alone with 4 kids, and while I was sincerely hoping it was just a candlelight reflection, it LOOKED like a FACE!!
This is the point in any good horror movie, where I was honor bound to go into the basement. I have the CREEPIEST basement on the planet. I NEVER EVER go into the basement. If I absolutely have to, I always come running up the steps as fast as I can, and slam the door behind me. Don't judge. Even Super Man has his weakness, okay?
But, in any good horror story, the creepy basement is the logical place to go, for guaranteed mutilation. WHY do they always go into the basement? I was not only not going onto the basement, I was not leaving my recliner. Ever again. Not even to close the front door, which was open right behind me. What if whatever was peaking through the window decided to come in for a visit? RIGHT BEHIND me? THEN what? Or, float up the stairs to the kids' rooms? Don't care. I am not getting up. I can just die right here. I wondered if I was getting extra gray hairs. Doesn't that happen? I finally decided to move enough to, of course, post the picture on Facebook, and implore people to tell me it was just a reflection. A lot of people "Liked" that picture (This was not a "Like" situation, people!!!!). A lot of people were all like "Nope. It's a little girl" and a few said it was just a reflection. I was not comforted. So, I decided to call Bearded Man. First I sent him the picture. The following conversation was a such:
Well, go get your gun.
I can't get my gun! I am not leaving this chair! And, you can't SHOOT ghosts!!!!! I would end up shooting the neighbor's house, and neither they, nor the police, nor the subsequent news channels would be impressed!
(Side note: Channel 4 seems to REALLY REALLY hate the VA. I could picture the headlines now: VA nurse photographs ghost, shoots neighbor's house. Our exclusive at 5, 6, and 11...)
Well, where is the dog?
I locked him in the laundry room, because he wouldn't stop barking at all the people that were here earlier, and I didn't want him to catch fire on all the candles.
Go get the dog.
No! I am NOT leaving the chair!!! YOU need to come home immediately!
No. I am an hour away. Just go to bed.
NO. You come home!
No. Go get the dog. You will be fine.
You suck as a knight in shining armour, and have failed me completely. Goodbye.
So. That didn't go well. I finally got up the nerve to go get the dog. Who was completely upset, panting and staring at the window from the safety of my lap. He failed me as a guardian as well.
Eventually the lights came back on, and the dog decided it was safe, and wandered off. I need a new dog.
Morning dawned, and I was whole and intact. As were the kids. Bearded Man pointed out that there are finger prints and dog nose prints on the window, thus I was probably seeing a dirty window reflexion (You are not in a position to point out my housekeeping failures, Bearded Man...), and considered the case closed.
My older sister, however, is convinced I have a little girl outside, and has informed me she is sending the picture to a friend of hers with a gift. Evidently she is able to flip over tables with her mental energy or something along those lines. (OMG, WHAT a handy trick!!!!)
Will keep you updated!!!!
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
The List Experiment
With a new job with all new hours, and the kids starting back to school this week, I thought it would be a wonderful opportunity, to attempt to be organized. Because, seriously, this is just going to be a mess, otherwise.
First, the background. With working 12 hour shifts in Buffalo, usually all different days, with a widely varying schedule, including most weekends, it was very hard to get things done around the house. I would work several days in a row, and in those days, any headway I ever made into laundry or housework, was usually lost. It was extremely difficult, to maintain any sort of routine, as far as household things getting done. On my first day off, there was "The Recovery Period", during which it was very difficult to get me to do a whole lot, and then the rest of any days off, it was the "Cleaning Frenzy", in which I looked hopelessly around the house, and dashed madly around, trying to put things back to order, which cussing the other occupants of the household under my breath. It was a vicious cycle. And it never seemed to vary.
Now, I have this job, where I work Monday through Friday, and am home by dinner. I officially started the same day that the kids went back to school this week. And, the thought occurred to me, that there is no way this is going to go well, unless a routine was begun at the beginning. So, all gung ho, I began going over the new plans, armed with lists, at dinner time with the kids. I was a little disappointed that the lists weren't color coded, as they would have looked that much better, but, I was happy I found paper and writing utensil.
The conversations went as such:
"Kids! As you all know, I will be working every day while you are in school. Which means that we are all going to have to get up and get ready at the same time. I am going to get up earlier, so that I can be in and out of the shower before you all need the bathroom and - "
"Mom. Mom? Moooooouuuummmmmm!!!!!" Interrupts George.
"What, George?"
"We forgot to say dinner payers" (prayers.)
"Oh. Okay. Yes. Lets say prayers. Sorry."..... "Okay then, so, I thought that we really need to make all our lunches and lay out clothes, shoes and socks before bedtime every night, which will really help in the craziness of the -"
"Mom! I didn't finish my turn on the ipad. Since I hate dinner anyway, can I just go play on the ipad?"
"No, Joseph! I am TALKING! So. Where was I? Oh yes, I really think it will be just a huge help, if we all get things done the night before. That way, we aren't scrambling around all crazy first thing in the morning, while we are all trying to -"
"Can I have more iced tea? And, I still don't think it's fair that I didn't get to have the 'King Fork'"
"hand me your cup, Lexi, and I will fill it. And, if you would have set the table like I asked, you could have picked the special fork."
"This is not fair!!! I NEVER get the King Fork! I try, and George cries, and then he gets it, so that no one will have to listen to him cry!" bursts out Joe.
"Joe. Maybe tomorrow you can have the King Fork."
"What's for dinner tomorrow?"
"Probably slop."
"I probably won't eat whatever it is, anyway. Unless it's corn."
"Then you don't have to worry about the darn fork!"
"I never get the King fork, either!"
"OMG, Kaila, really? I swear to God, kids, I am going to throw the dumb thing out! Anyway. I have made a list of all the dinners and afternoon snacks for the week. That way you guys know what to eat after school, so you aren't all coming home and eating everything, and spoiling your dinners."
"Let me see the list" demands Joe. Heeeeeere we go.
"I am not eating anything except corn on Monday, or the shredded cheese on the salad on Tuesday, nothing on Wednesday, Thursday or Friday. Great. I will probably starve to death by Saturday. And, I hate Saturday's dinner, too."
"Kids. Focus. I am just trying to tell you, that we really need to be very organized! That way things all go as smoothly as possible."
"Mom. Did I tell you who my favorite teacher is so far?"
I gave up. I posted the menu on the side of the refrigerator, and broke out the crock pot for Day One's meal.
Today is day three. And, so far so good. We make lunches and pack book bags the night before, I get laundry done, housework done, and dishes all done before bed. We set out clothes and shoes and talk about schedules before bed, and so far it is working. It has only been three days though. I am so afraid that I am going to walk thru the front door, settle in my recliner, and announce that they can make pb&j for dinner, as Mama doesn't feel like it. And then all the organization will be gone, and everything will go hopelessly wrong, and I will have to be a stressed out banshee in the mornings, trying to get everyone out the door on time. And there will probably be no dinner. And the stupid King Fork (A fork that somehow made it's way into the house, that is a little larger than our normal forks, and somehow has been named the "King Fork" and is fought over Every. Single. Day.) will probably be dirty, thus starting all sorts of arguing over who is going to wash it.
I read a line the other day that stated "He said his parents told him to 'go outside and play' a lot when he was a kid. It sounds like it was pretty neglectful'" Yesterday, I walked through the front door on such a beautiful day, stumbled over the kids in front of the TV, and announced that TV time was over, and they needed to go outside and play. I don't think making your kids fix an occasional meal, or go outside for independent, non structured play, is neglectful. I prefer to think of it as 'Fostering future independence' And fostering parental sanity. And, I hate seeing the kids parked in front of the TV.
Hopefully this works! Hopefully I can keep the general routine going, and things continue to progress smoothly. So far, mornings have been very calm and orderly, and the kids and I even get to sit down and eat breakfast together.
Here is to continuing to adjust, and to more calm orderly days at home! Till next time!
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