Just over a week until Christmas. At this point, I almost cringe, writing the word "Christmas". I have lost count of the times this holiday season, that I have been yelled at, threatened, taken to task, admonished, and coldly informed that this is completely inappropriate to say. What if people are atheist? They do not want to hear about "The Holidays"
Oh, goodness. I have honestly felt myself stumbling, when I start to say "Have a great Holiday Season!" or, "Are you ready for Christmas?" or any such thing anymore. I am so tired of getting yelled at, or shamed for it. Tell me I have offended you by trying to shove "My religion" down your throat ONE. MORE. TIME. Yikes! I am pathetically happy when people say it to me first, now.
I started off cheerful! I did. I was so into the spirit of the season. The excitement. The Advent season. Anticipating the kids' excitement. The decorations. The tree. The shopping and baking and warmth and happiness! The music, the TV specials and the magic that goes with the entire season.
We begin with "Kriskindls" Where everyone in our household draws a name, and then you have to be extra nice to the person who you draw. As well as in general.
I haven't seen too much extra niceness in my house. Also, George figured out how to exploit it shamelessly this year. He drew Joe's name, and has promised to buy Joe the worst things he can find, if Joe does not do exactly as he orders.
Decorations? Meh. My kids could really not care any less. Excitement over the Christmas lights? Nope. The music? Absolutely not. Please change the station. The tree? Not really. The excitement and happiness and peace and goodwill and helping out? Not happening. TV Christmas specials? They would rather watch the Food Network.
I took the girls to a Christmas show, up in Buffalo. Kaila was somewhat impressed. Lexi, not so much.
I am not sure Bearded Man is aware that Christmas is next week at all. He really has yet to acknowledge it.
This week, I took two days off, to launch "Operation Ninja Santa". During which, I started my day off as any normal workday. I donned my scrubs, and left at my usual time, then went Christmas shopping instead. Day one: I wore my Christmas Scrubs, and headed out, Christmas music blaring in the minivan. I headed to the store I knew would be open at 7:30 am, and headed in.
I had deliberately chosen weekdays, and gone early, because I did not want to deal with crowds and lines and chaos. I wanted to shop in relative peace, and not feel rushed. So, minding my own business, I grabbed a cart and started to shop.
It was not very long into my arrival, that I heard "Security scan in section whatever" over the PA system. Vaguely I wondered who was being checked out, and continued on my way.
I was in a toy aisle, when I noticed the woman. She was standing at the end of the aisle, arms crossed, glaring at me suspiciously. She had no shopping cart, no basket, and there was no indication that she was shopping. She was staring at me challengingly.
When she began to follow me thru every single aisle and section, I realized that I was the security threat I had heard over the loud speaker system.
WHAT? REALLY? For heaven's sake, I was wearing Christmas scrubs and behaving perfectly respectfully! Do I look shifty? Or thuggish? Or suspicious? What on earth?
The woman followed me thru toys, sporting goods, books, crafts - where she leaned on the craft counter chatting with two employees, as they all chatted about what time their shifts ended - footwear, seasonal and office supplies.
I honestly did not want to confront her. I figured there was no way it would end well with me. It was clear that it was thought that I was getting ready to rob the store blind. So, I shopped with a scowling woman following me none too subtly. So much for shopping without aggravation. Clearly my Christmas scrubs did not convey "Harmless Mom, shopping way closer to Christmas than she ever has before, and is trying to cram it all into two days". Instead, it appears that I conveyed "Psychotic suspicious thief who will probably attempt to wheel an entire cart full of goods right out of the store and should we call the police now, so they can be stationed at the doors." It was offensive, actually. So, day two: I went to my sister, and got a haircut. When in doubt, blame the hair. While sitting in front of my sister's obscenely bright lighting in the salon, I discovered I was pale and pasty and had bags and circles under my eyes. Maybe I had conveyed a desperate mom look? So, this morning before coming back to work, I took vitamins and decided to try the evils of tanning, to maybe get some color into the complexion.
Also on Day 2: I told the kids I was staying home from work, sick. That way I could wear normal clothes and head to Buffalo to shop. Update: I am still not completely finished.
Another update: Approximately 4 hours after I purchased an entire set of books for Kaila - she took the first in that same set out at the library. I told her the book was bad and inappropriate and that she was NEVER allowed to read such drivel, and to return it immediately. I think the terse admonishment of taking out such terrible trash to read might have worked. If she's reading it, it's in secret, because it does not appear she has touched it since. Had I not mentioned it, she would have had the entire series finished before Christmas. Desperate measures and stuff.
This weekend, I had planned to bake things. I even started looking at recipes so I could decide what I needed to add to the shopping list.
That time needs to be spent cleaning the house. Today is day 2 that I have left the house without a coat, because I cannot find mine. Which seems to be a trend around here lately. I have lost: My vehicle keys, glasses, socks, 2 coats and, apparently, my mind. Anyhow, I have decided that this weekend might be better spent getting my house in order and finishing up the shopping and wrapping. Santa will probably end up with Oreos. Again.
Back to work again, after 4 days off, we had all chipped in for a few sub platters and brought in dishes to pass, to celebrate Christmas. About an hour after lunch was finished, a completely disgruntled employee from Buffalo crossly demanded we let him in, and shouldered through the door of the clinic with a Christmas lunch from the powers that be, up in Buffalo. He unceremoniously dumped it on the break room table, and stomped back out again. We hesitated to say Merry Christmas to him, either.
While out and about shopping, I also noticed: there are no bell ringers! No Salvation Army pots, no people standing at the doors of the local stores. Nothing.
This past weekend we DID see two men riding horses up and down the road, singing Christmas Carols. No one seemed to notice. Most of our town didn't even put up Christmas lights this year.
Not going to lie. This has really dampened my enthusiasm for the entire season.
Also, Flashlight, the cat, was running from Turbo, the dog. During the chase, the Christmas tree was knocked over. The dog seemed terribly repentant, and clearly felt just awful about it. The cat was smug and seemed to feel that this was richly deserved. Anyhow. Our tree topper angel, with us for nearly 20 years, and every Christmas that Bearded Man and I have been together, no longer lights up. When your angel refuses to light up, you may as well resign yourself to just getting through the rest of the season as best you can.
Christmas Eve, we will go to church. Joe will be Joseph in the Christmas pageant this year. George has decided to sing in the Children's Choir. And, if the weather and energy hold, the girls and I will pick up my sister and her kids and head to Buffalo for midnight mass, and to hear the amazing choir beforehand. Hopefully, it will help get everyone into the magical place that seems to difficult to find this year.
Ah well. Peace on Earth, Goodwill toward men. We certainly could use more of it.
Thursday, December 17, 2015
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
The Chaos Theory
When we were younger, my Dad, a Meteorologist with the National Weather Service, would talk sometimes about the Chaos Theory. Where, one small thing can happen on the other side of the planet, which, thru a series of events, can turn into a major event or catastrophe halfway around the world.
Nothing quite as dramatic as all that, but, how did my house turn into a zoo?
We began with Flashlight. The cat. Who has never been particularly thrilled with most other animals. Except fish, because they are scrumptious when eaten fresh out of an aquarium.
Then came Buster, the dog. An anxiety ridden thing who is self appointed protector of the kids. No one will ever raise their voice to them, they will not fight, argue or get rough with each other, without Buster intervening, and, anyone who walks within eyesight of the house at anytime is clearly out to murder his entire family, and we must all be alerted immediately. The poor creature is a wreck most of the time, trying to protect this ungrateful family of stupid people who willingly allow potential murderers into the house on a fairly regular basis. The Mail Lady will eventually be the death of all of us.
Almost by accident, came Turbo. Who loves all people, and would love nothing more for every single person in the entire world to come to the house and have a wonderful time, and take what you need, including the kids, and can I show you where the valuables are kept, new BFF????
Then, this summer, we were given lots of guppy fish. Who love nothing more than to produce even more guppy fish. Which will probably mean a larger fish house in the fairly near future. We love nothing more than to hear the excited voices of the children announcing that "Three more look pregnant, Mom!"
The week before Thanksgiving, Joe came home with a note. The note indicated that his class had taken on all sorts of small assorted animals from all different geological habitats, for some Unit they were studying. Apparently no one was willing to come in and deal with these animals thru Thanksgiving vacation, so, it was decided they should be raffled off Chinese Auction style. The note mentioned that no children would be able to participate without signed permission from parents, and breezily assured us that these animals were easy to care for, food for them was readily available at Wal Mart, and that the children were aware of how to care for each animal.
Joe was thrilled. His very own pet. He begged. He pleaded. He guaranteed he was able to take care of whatever he brought home. He was certain he could win one. He already had a plan. I signed the paper without much thought. What were the odds? A few animals, lots of kids - there was a very small chance he would bring anything home.
Wrong. Joe had a plan. What possessed me to underestimate my brilliant kid, I have no idea. But, Joe had no doubt that he was coming home with SOMETHING, and he did, indeed, have a plan. He waited until all the other kids had put their raffle tickets into the Chinese auction bags. He then did a walk thru, inspecting the bags, and then putting his tickets into bags that had either no tickets, or, very few. Thus guaranteeing himself a new pet.
We now own a frog. Or a toad. I don't even know. His name is something along the lines of "Mr. Adorable Awesome Frog Dick" because, my children insist that all our pets must share our last name. And someday, when they are all grown up, I will absolutely sit at some holiday meal and share every single one of the pet names that they have had throughout the years, and they will finally appreciate why Mom closed her eyes and shuddered after every single new pet name announcement.
Anyhow. We found out that Wal Mart does NOT, indeed, carry frog food - aka - crickets. Live crickets. The amphibian needs live things to eat. So, I located a pet store, and we went in search of a frog/toad appropriate tank and crickets.
Where, along with crickets, we found every single sort of pet any kid could ever want. There were fish, (saltwater and freshwater) turtles, frogs, crabs, crabs with painted shells, chinchillas, hamsters, and, birds.
"Mom." began Lexi, "I have never had my own pet. Ever. Every time we tried, they only wanted Kaila. Now we have all these animals, and I am the only kid without a pet. Can I please have a bird?" So, next up: a bird.
Meanwhile, the crickets are not happy about being frog food. They have demonstrated their displeasure in a pretty startling way.
Every time they are thrown into the frog tank, they immediately launch themselves into the water dish and die.
"Mom. Is it NORMAL for crickets to kill themselves?" wondered Joe.
The frog is onto them though. Now it grabs the crickets before they can get to the water dish.
Also, the frog seems to me to be a little on the malevolent side. Every time I look at it, I get the impression it would murder me in my sleep if it could. (That being said, it is currently residing next to the fish aquarium in the boys' room) It seems a little creepily threatening to me, but, I could be wrong.
To wrap it up:
School pets =
Joe pet =
Frog =
Trip to pet store =
Crickets to feed and house =
Birds =
Back the first pet, Flashlight. Who probably thinks these are all her Christmas presents.
Cause and effect and all that.
Nothing quite as dramatic as all that, but, how did my house turn into a zoo?
We began with Flashlight. The cat. Who has never been particularly thrilled with most other animals. Except fish, because they are scrumptious when eaten fresh out of an aquarium.
Then came Buster, the dog. An anxiety ridden thing who is self appointed protector of the kids. No one will ever raise their voice to them, they will not fight, argue or get rough with each other, without Buster intervening, and, anyone who walks within eyesight of the house at anytime is clearly out to murder his entire family, and we must all be alerted immediately. The poor creature is a wreck most of the time, trying to protect this ungrateful family of stupid people who willingly allow potential murderers into the house on a fairly regular basis. The Mail Lady will eventually be the death of all of us.
Almost by accident, came Turbo. Who loves all people, and would love nothing more for every single person in the entire world to come to the house and have a wonderful time, and take what you need, including the kids, and can I show you where the valuables are kept, new BFF????
Then, this summer, we were given lots of guppy fish. Who love nothing more than to produce even more guppy fish. Which will probably mean a larger fish house in the fairly near future. We love nothing more than to hear the excited voices of the children announcing that "Three more look pregnant, Mom!"
The week before Thanksgiving, Joe came home with a note. The note indicated that his class had taken on all sorts of small assorted animals from all different geological habitats, for some Unit they were studying. Apparently no one was willing to come in and deal with these animals thru Thanksgiving vacation, so, it was decided they should be raffled off Chinese Auction style. The note mentioned that no children would be able to participate without signed permission from parents, and breezily assured us that these animals were easy to care for, food for them was readily available at Wal Mart, and that the children were aware of how to care for each animal.
Joe was thrilled. His very own pet. He begged. He pleaded. He guaranteed he was able to take care of whatever he brought home. He was certain he could win one. He already had a plan. I signed the paper without much thought. What were the odds? A few animals, lots of kids - there was a very small chance he would bring anything home.
Wrong. Joe had a plan. What possessed me to underestimate my brilliant kid, I have no idea. But, Joe had no doubt that he was coming home with SOMETHING, and he did, indeed, have a plan. He waited until all the other kids had put their raffle tickets into the Chinese auction bags. He then did a walk thru, inspecting the bags, and then putting his tickets into bags that had either no tickets, or, very few. Thus guaranteeing himself a new pet.
We now own a frog. Or a toad. I don't even know. His name is something along the lines of "Mr. Adorable Awesome Frog Dick" because, my children insist that all our pets must share our last name. And someday, when they are all grown up, I will absolutely sit at some holiday meal and share every single one of the pet names that they have had throughout the years, and they will finally appreciate why Mom closed her eyes and shuddered after every single new pet name announcement.
Anyhow. We found out that Wal Mart does NOT, indeed, carry frog food - aka - crickets. Live crickets. The amphibian needs live things to eat. So, I located a pet store, and we went in search of a frog/toad appropriate tank and crickets.
Where, along with crickets, we found every single sort of pet any kid could ever want. There were fish, (saltwater and freshwater) turtles, frogs, crabs, crabs with painted shells, chinchillas, hamsters, and, birds.
"Mom." began Lexi, "I have never had my own pet. Ever. Every time we tried, they only wanted Kaila. Now we have all these animals, and I am the only kid without a pet. Can I please have a bird?" So, next up: a bird.
Meanwhile, the crickets are not happy about being frog food. They have demonstrated their displeasure in a pretty startling way.
Every time they are thrown into the frog tank, they immediately launch themselves into the water dish and die.
"Mom. Is it NORMAL for crickets to kill themselves?" wondered Joe.
The frog is onto them though. Now it grabs the crickets before they can get to the water dish.
Also, the frog seems to me to be a little on the malevolent side. Every time I look at it, I get the impression it would murder me in my sleep if it could. (That being said, it is currently residing next to the fish aquarium in the boys' room) It seems a little creepily threatening to me, but, I could be wrong.
To wrap it up:
School pets =
Joe pet =
Frog =
Trip to pet store =
Crickets to feed and house =
Birds =
Back the first pet, Flashlight. Who probably thinks these are all her Christmas presents.
Cause and effect and all that.
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
Kitchen Wars
The Holidays are upon us. First up: Thanksgiving. A time of warmth and thankfulness. Gratitude and family.
For those of us that host Thanksgiving, it means: Cooking, baking, cleaning and shopping.
For those of us that host Thanksgiving in a home that also houses a hunter, it means copious amounts of alcohol.
It used to be cute. Before kids, Bearded Man would get up at 0430, don 67 layers of camo topped with blaze orange, spritz on doe urine and shotgun in hand, would trek through the woods all day. It was nice and peaceful and quiet, and, he never shot anything.
Now that there are children, we are ALL up when Bearded Man gets up at whatever hour of the morning he choses whichever particular day, as loudly as possible. The dogs are up. The kids are up. I am up. The cat is up. Not sure about the fish. They always seem to be up. And adding more fish to their fish family.
Also, the last few years, he has actually shot deer. Which poses problems with Thanksgiving dinner. Because, the deer must be processed etc.
Which, I suppose, brings us to this week.
Saturday: Bearded Man shoots a deer first thing in the morning. Brings it home, and hangs it in his shed. Bearded Man is alerted that Mama needs to work every day but Thursday this week, therefore, the kitchen is OFF LIMITS Mon, Tues, Wed after 5pm. Bearded Man is heartily advised to deal with his deer Sunday.
Sunday: Bearded Man goes hunting again. Does not get a deer. The kids and I, meanwhile, haul the Christmas stuff out of the attic and put it all up. Bearded Man returns home and is advised to get working on the deer. The kitchen is OFF LIMITS Mon, Tues, Wed after 5 PM. I then leave for 2 hours for a previously accepted commitment, and Bearded Man has full kitchen access for the rest of the day. I return home, and Bearded Man is watching TV, while sipping beer. Slight hysteria begins. The deer is then hauled into the house.
Monday: Return home from work, get dinner on the table, and decide to start baking. Bearded Man commands use of half the kitchen, to continue processing the deer. He has also given Lexi allotted time to wash the dishes. When the time is up, complete or not, she must exit the kitchen and leave the sink open. Breads get made, Mama forgets to take Joe to Scouts - AGAIN - and runs him to the meeting 15 minutes late. Decide to clean the refrigerator out Tuesday, because use of the kitchen sink is prohibited. Bearded Man then announces he cannot possibly do more tonight, and will continue Tuesday. Full blown hysteria presents, and this writer announces that she HATES hunting season, she HATES not EVER getting to sleep in, she HATES dealing with sleep deprived kids every weekend, she HATES dead deer on the kitchen table, and further more that NEXT YEAR, she is NOT cooking dinner, and Bearded Man may as well save his money, because he will be driving the entire family to the nearest Thanksgiving Buffet, and that she will plan on sitting around watching Hallmark Channel Christmas movies and drinking lots of wine!!!!!! Teenage daughter has the unfortunate timing of making a sarcastic remark, and gets yelled at as well. After which, I remembered I had to pick Joe up from his Scout meeting, and left to go get my kid.
During which time, I run into another mother, who had heard that George had just managed to break the same living room window twice in less than 3 days.
"Why is he so violent, I wonder? You really need to spank him more! He is clearly out of control. Maybe he needs help? With this violence?"
*breathe. Just. Breathe.* Seriously, if one more person tells me to beat my child, I may beat them and see how THEY like it. It is NOT nice to tell people to beat people, even if you procreated the subjects one is being advised to beat.
The story goes as such: Saturday, with company on their way over, George, dressed as Iron Man, had gone outside to search for one of his special painted rocks. He found one, and, in full Superhero Mode, somehow, the rock went flying. Right through the window. Thankfully, it was the INSIDE window, and not the outside storm window. When I marched into the living room, he was casually pulling the curtain across it. Upon inspection, there was a hole about 3 inches around, right through the glass.
Company was coming, and honestly, he felt so terrible, I didn't have the heart to do much more than yell.
Monday evening, George was doing his all time favorite thing ever. He was flipping upside down on the couches. This is where he gets a running start and flips up the couch, with his head down, and his feet on the top of it. Apparently he has grown, though, because, his foot went right through the same window. Breaking the rest of it.
He announced in tears that this was the WORST DAY EVER, and, sobbing, took himself (and his unscathed foot) to his room.
Back to the judgy mom and her judgy husband, who were both looking at me disdainfully, and instructing me, like several other parents, to spank my violent out of control kid.
NO! I am not spanking him. For goodness sake, he's five years old, and certainly wasn't breaking the windows deliberately. He is NOT out of control, and I am NOT spanking him for accidents.
There. Go ahead and judge. I don't beat my out of control kids. They will probably be blights of society now. Hashtagsorrynotsorry
For those who have advised me to get better control of my child, as well as those who have informed me that their kid certainly has never had these issues: Good for you. Once again, the title of this Blog indicates that I am aware that I am absolutely not the perfect mother. Ah well. I got that off my chest. We're all good now.
For those of you who are hunters, or, spouses of hunters; I have no issue with hunting. As long as the carcass is not on my kitchen table, I am pretty okay with it all.
If the carcass is on my kitchen table during Thanksgiving prep time; we may have strong words.
Anyhow, at the end of the day, I am sure Thanksgiving will be fine. The dead deer will all be shoved into pig intestines eventually, dinner will get made and eaten, and hunting season, please Lord, will be over soon.
Next up: Christmas!
For those of us that host Thanksgiving, it means: Cooking, baking, cleaning and shopping.
For those of us that host Thanksgiving in a home that also houses a hunter, it means copious amounts of alcohol.
It used to be cute. Before kids, Bearded Man would get up at 0430, don 67 layers of camo topped with blaze orange, spritz on doe urine and shotgun in hand, would trek through the woods all day. It was nice and peaceful and quiet, and, he never shot anything.
Now that there are children, we are ALL up when Bearded Man gets up at whatever hour of the morning he choses whichever particular day, as loudly as possible. The dogs are up. The kids are up. I am up. The cat is up. Not sure about the fish. They always seem to be up. And adding more fish to their fish family.
Also, the last few years, he has actually shot deer. Which poses problems with Thanksgiving dinner. Because, the deer must be processed etc.
Which, I suppose, brings us to this week.
Saturday: Bearded Man shoots a deer first thing in the morning. Brings it home, and hangs it in his shed. Bearded Man is alerted that Mama needs to work every day but Thursday this week, therefore, the kitchen is OFF LIMITS Mon, Tues, Wed after 5pm. Bearded Man is heartily advised to deal with his deer Sunday.
Sunday: Bearded Man goes hunting again. Does not get a deer. The kids and I, meanwhile, haul the Christmas stuff out of the attic and put it all up. Bearded Man returns home and is advised to get working on the deer. The kitchen is OFF LIMITS Mon, Tues, Wed after 5 PM. I then leave for 2 hours for a previously accepted commitment, and Bearded Man has full kitchen access for the rest of the day. I return home, and Bearded Man is watching TV, while sipping beer. Slight hysteria begins. The deer is then hauled into the house.
Monday: Return home from work, get dinner on the table, and decide to start baking. Bearded Man commands use of half the kitchen, to continue processing the deer. He has also given Lexi allotted time to wash the dishes. When the time is up, complete or not, she must exit the kitchen and leave the sink open. Breads get made, Mama forgets to take Joe to Scouts - AGAIN - and runs him to the meeting 15 minutes late. Decide to clean the refrigerator out Tuesday, because use of the kitchen sink is prohibited. Bearded Man then announces he cannot possibly do more tonight, and will continue Tuesday. Full blown hysteria presents, and this writer announces that she HATES hunting season, she HATES not EVER getting to sleep in, she HATES dealing with sleep deprived kids every weekend, she HATES dead deer on the kitchen table, and further more that NEXT YEAR, she is NOT cooking dinner, and Bearded Man may as well save his money, because he will be driving the entire family to the nearest Thanksgiving Buffet, and that she will plan on sitting around watching Hallmark Channel Christmas movies and drinking lots of wine!!!!!! Teenage daughter has the unfortunate timing of making a sarcastic remark, and gets yelled at as well. After which, I remembered I had to pick Joe up from his Scout meeting, and left to go get my kid.
During which time, I run into another mother, who had heard that George had just managed to break the same living room window twice in less than 3 days.
"Why is he so violent, I wonder? You really need to spank him more! He is clearly out of control. Maybe he needs help? With this violence?"
*breathe. Just. Breathe.* Seriously, if one more person tells me to beat my child, I may beat them and see how THEY like it. It is NOT nice to tell people to beat people, even if you procreated the subjects one is being advised to beat.
The story goes as such: Saturday, with company on their way over, George, dressed as Iron Man, had gone outside to search for one of his special painted rocks. He found one, and, in full Superhero Mode, somehow, the rock went flying. Right through the window. Thankfully, it was the INSIDE window, and not the outside storm window. When I marched into the living room, he was casually pulling the curtain across it. Upon inspection, there was a hole about 3 inches around, right through the glass.
Company was coming, and honestly, he felt so terrible, I didn't have the heart to do much more than yell.
Monday evening, George was doing his all time favorite thing ever. He was flipping upside down on the couches. This is where he gets a running start and flips up the couch, with his head down, and his feet on the top of it. Apparently he has grown, though, because, his foot went right through the same window. Breaking the rest of it.
He announced in tears that this was the WORST DAY EVER, and, sobbing, took himself (and his unscathed foot) to his room.
Back to the judgy mom and her judgy husband, who were both looking at me disdainfully, and instructing me, like several other parents, to spank my violent out of control kid.
NO! I am not spanking him. For goodness sake, he's five years old, and certainly wasn't breaking the windows deliberately. He is NOT out of control, and I am NOT spanking him for accidents.
There. Go ahead and judge. I don't beat my out of control kids. They will probably be blights of society now. Hashtagsorrynotsorry
For those who have advised me to get better control of my child, as well as those who have informed me that their kid certainly has never had these issues: Good for you. Once again, the title of this Blog indicates that I am aware that I am absolutely not the perfect mother. Ah well. I got that off my chest. We're all good now.
For those of you who are hunters, or, spouses of hunters; I have no issue with hunting. As long as the carcass is not on my kitchen table, I am pretty okay with it all.
If the carcass is on my kitchen table during Thanksgiving prep time; we may have strong words.
Anyhow, at the end of the day, I am sure Thanksgiving will be fine. The dead deer will all be shoved into pig intestines eventually, dinner will get made and eaten, and hunting season, please Lord, will be over soon.
Next up: Christmas!
Thursday, November 12, 2015
Passive Agressive Magazines: Making Mama's Feel Inadequate for Generations Now.
Sometime over the last few years, during some fund raiser or another, I ordered a few magazines. Mostly they sit in their clear plastic bags for a few weeks, until I have the time and inclination to flip through them and feel inadequate.
The Christmas magazines hit my mailbox over the last week or so. Yesterday, I decided to take a break from the housework and page through the latest tome touting recipes full of fattening goodness and impossible to find ingredients that most people will never ever attempt to cook. It was packed full of clothing no one I personally know can afford, nor will look at all flattering should they purchase and wear them, as well as uplifting chatty reads encouraging feeling good about oneself no matter what, followed quickly by glossy pages full of photo shopped young ladies looking impossibly perfect, while telling us how to fix every flaw from hair follicles to toenails.
Packed into the latest magazine, was "Simple Christmas" articles, clearly photographed sometime over the summer, with happy glossy photos of people with fake smiles, wrapping fake gifts, as they undoubtedly think about the work it will take to UN decorate the house again, in time for their simple and perfect fourth of July parties.
Anyhow, There were pages of advice from decorators, for simple holiday tips and decorating ideas. Some of my personal favorites were:
Wait. What? Did this magazine really just tell me to wrap hangers with red and white tape? Who does this? Who has the time for this? Who thinks of these things??
Impatiently, I set the magazine aside and resumed my laundry folding. While internally I wavered between laughing at the absurdity of it all, and fuming at the ridiculousness of it. Snapping towels out in irritation, I wondered if any woman picked up that magazine, with any intention of making the picture perfect intricately decorated cookies on the front. How many Mothers have a "Room that they prefer to wrap packages in" as they print off phone pictures of their children, to "tie to the beautifully wrapped gift with twine" How many parents out there get dressed up and wear fresh lipstick, to wrap gifts and decorate their clothing hangers with tape in their favorite gift wrapping rooms? Where does one go to find washi tape???
If my kids had a spare wall in their bedroom, would I march up there with green painters tape, and make them a tree with it, and then sit with them and make handmade decorations for it? Probably not. Well, why not? Why can't you be that nice parent? Don't you even CARE? Ugh.
Also, why hasn't it ever occurred to me to set up a beautiful bountiful table outside and have a semi formal dinner outdoors? In a field someplace? All those laughing smiling perfect people drinking wine and passing around perfectly prepared dinners served on expensive dishes and full of hard to find ingredients make my poor holiday dinning room seem flat in comparison. Also, how is anyone still smiling after hauling it all out to the fields, anyhow? Maybe because they didn't need to clean their house in advance?
Here's the thing. I am probably never going to deviate from my traditional turkey. Prepared the traditional way. I will probably always make the same dishes. We will always get together and make the family recipe for Sugar Cookies, that I sincerely hope will always be decorated by the unprofessional hands of my children, nieces, nephews, and someday, grandkids. I will never, EVER decorate my clothes hangers, for heaven's sake. I will also probably never decorate my appliances with ornaments, nor hang snowflakes in the closets. We have hit an entirely new level of making the everyday housewife feel inadequate, when we never thought nor intended to, decorate our closets for Christmas. I would love to see a magazine geared toward us not so perfect mamas. It would probably include honest to goodness real life households. Affordable realistic clothes, ideas for budgeting - and please spare me the pretentious gift lists found within the pages of these silly glossy magazines of today. It would include humor, real life stories, pictures of actual un photo shopped parents in less than perfect homes. I would love to see real life and realistic usable recipes, tips, tricks, help, and reality.
Ah well. In preparation for decking the halls and all that, I have begun my annual "Nag Bearded Man" campaign. He is in charge of the out door Christmas decorations, which must be in place and ready for the annual "Thanksgiving stand outside and turn the lights on A La National Lampoons", after dinner.
It's the same every year. I beg. He declines. He states he will put them up eventually. He promises to get to it. I remind him it's much nicer to do it in nice weather, than to hang from the porch railing and posts in whipping wind and snow and/or sleet/rain/hail. He tersely tells me he will get to it. It never ends well. He always ends up outside hanging off the porch and sounding exactly like a combination of the Dad in "The Christmas Story" during the part where he fights with the furnace, and, the guy in "The 12 Pains of Christmas" screaming about hanging Christmas Lights, while the wind and snow whip around him.
Today's texts have gone as such:
Me: Bearded Man, I have good news/bad news. The good news is: I have thought about you, hunting season and the weather. The bad news is: This weekend the Christmas stuff needs to go up. Sunday is supposed to have the best weather. See? Thinking of you!
Bearded Man: If I get a deer opening day I can do the lights.
Me: If you don't, then, the lights won't get done. Happy Wife, Happy life, honey!
We'll see how it goes. (Here's a fun article for the Not So Perfect Mama Magazine: "Christmas Lights. Getting Him to Put Them Up The First Time You Beg."
Also, I need to admit here: I have yet to purchase anything for Christmas. There is nothing Christmas related here, except the usual panic, helped along by the cheerful "X DAYS TILL CHRISTMAS!" messages I see plastered from here to kingdom come. The "When will I have time to shop??!!!!" followed by "When will I have time to wrap??!!!!" anxiety has begun. Yayness!
Happy Holidays, to any other inadequate people out there. If any of you had planned to wrap your clothes hangers for Christmas, You need to know, I will probably laugh at you.
The Christmas magazines hit my mailbox over the last week or so. Yesterday, I decided to take a break from the housework and page through the latest tome touting recipes full of fattening goodness and impossible to find ingredients that most people will never ever attempt to cook. It was packed full of clothing no one I personally know can afford, nor will look at all flattering should they purchase and wear them, as well as uplifting chatty reads encouraging feeling good about oneself no matter what, followed quickly by glossy pages full of photo shopped young ladies looking impossibly perfect, while telling us how to fix every flaw from hair follicles to toenails.
Packed into the latest magazine, was "Simple Christmas" articles, clearly photographed sometime over the summer, with happy glossy photos of people with fake smiles, wrapping fake gifts, as they undoubtedly think about the work it will take to UN decorate the house again, in time for their simple and perfect fourth of July parties.
Anyhow, There were pages of advice from decorators, for simple holiday tips and decorating ideas. Some of my personal favorites were:
- Hang paper snowflakes in the coat closet
- Hot glue magnets to the back of shiny ornaments to dress up your fridge or a metal door
- Create an instagram tree with phone snapshots instead of ornaments.
- wrap red and white washi tape around plain hangers to get your closet cheery for holiday company.
- Instead of name tags, print out pictures of the recipient, and use those, instead.
Wait. What? Did this magazine really just tell me to wrap hangers with red and white tape? Who does this? Who has the time for this? Who thinks of these things??
Impatiently, I set the magazine aside and resumed my laundry folding. While internally I wavered between laughing at the absurdity of it all, and fuming at the ridiculousness of it. Snapping towels out in irritation, I wondered if any woman picked up that magazine, with any intention of making the picture perfect intricately decorated cookies on the front. How many Mothers have a "Room that they prefer to wrap packages in" as they print off phone pictures of their children, to "tie to the beautifully wrapped gift with twine" How many parents out there get dressed up and wear fresh lipstick, to wrap gifts and decorate their clothing hangers with tape in their favorite gift wrapping rooms? Where does one go to find washi tape???
If my kids had a spare wall in their bedroom, would I march up there with green painters tape, and make them a tree with it, and then sit with them and make handmade decorations for it? Probably not. Well, why not? Why can't you be that nice parent? Don't you even CARE? Ugh.
Also, why hasn't it ever occurred to me to set up a beautiful bountiful table outside and have a semi formal dinner outdoors? In a field someplace? All those laughing smiling perfect people drinking wine and passing around perfectly prepared dinners served on expensive dishes and full of hard to find ingredients make my poor holiday dinning room seem flat in comparison. Also, how is anyone still smiling after hauling it all out to the fields, anyhow? Maybe because they didn't need to clean their house in advance?
Here's the thing. I am probably never going to deviate from my traditional turkey. Prepared the traditional way. I will probably always make the same dishes. We will always get together and make the family recipe for Sugar Cookies, that I sincerely hope will always be decorated by the unprofessional hands of my children, nieces, nephews, and someday, grandkids. I will never, EVER decorate my clothes hangers, for heaven's sake. I will also probably never decorate my appliances with ornaments, nor hang snowflakes in the closets. We have hit an entirely new level of making the everyday housewife feel inadequate, when we never thought nor intended to, decorate our closets for Christmas. I would love to see a magazine geared toward us not so perfect mamas. It would probably include honest to goodness real life households. Affordable realistic clothes, ideas for budgeting - and please spare me the pretentious gift lists found within the pages of these silly glossy magazines of today. It would include humor, real life stories, pictures of actual un photo shopped parents in less than perfect homes. I would love to see real life and realistic usable recipes, tips, tricks, help, and reality.
Ah well. In preparation for decking the halls and all that, I have begun my annual "Nag Bearded Man" campaign. He is in charge of the out door Christmas decorations, which must be in place and ready for the annual "Thanksgiving stand outside and turn the lights on A La National Lampoons", after dinner.
It's the same every year. I beg. He declines. He states he will put them up eventually. He promises to get to it. I remind him it's much nicer to do it in nice weather, than to hang from the porch railing and posts in whipping wind and snow and/or sleet/rain/hail. He tersely tells me he will get to it. It never ends well. He always ends up outside hanging off the porch and sounding exactly like a combination of the Dad in "The Christmas Story" during the part where he fights with the furnace, and, the guy in "The 12 Pains of Christmas" screaming about hanging Christmas Lights, while the wind and snow whip around him.
Today's texts have gone as such:
Me: Bearded Man, I have good news/bad news. The good news is: I have thought about you, hunting season and the weather. The bad news is: This weekend the Christmas stuff needs to go up. Sunday is supposed to have the best weather. See? Thinking of you!
Bearded Man: If I get a deer opening day I can do the lights.
Me: If you don't, then, the lights won't get done. Happy Wife, Happy life, honey!
We'll see how it goes. (Here's a fun article for the Not So Perfect Mama Magazine: "Christmas Lights. Getting Him to Put Them Up The First Time You Beg."
Also, I need to admit here: I have yet to purchase anything for Christmas. There is nothing Christmas related here, except the usual panic, helped along by the cheerful "X DAYS TILL CHRISTMAS!" messages I see plastered from here to kingdom come. The "When will I have time to shop??!!!!" followed by "When will I have time to wrap??!!!!" anxiety has begun. Yayness!
Happy Holidays, to any other inadequate people out there. If any of you had planned to wrap your clothes hangers for Christmas, You need to know, I will probably laugh at you.
Monday, November 2, 2015
Mama Goes to Court
Nearly two months ago, if you recall, two friends and myself went on a road trip to New Jersey to meet my cousin in person, and, lay on the beach for two glorious days.
On the way back from New Jersey, approximately 40 minutes from home, I ended up with a speeding ticket. It is what it is. The nice officer advised me to write a nice letter to the DA and see what I could do about getting it reduced, at the very least. So, I did.
With only a few days remaining before my traffic court date, I received a packet that included my letter to the DA, and several papers that advised me to send the enclosed application for a Defensive Driving class and a money order for the required amount, and, the ticket would essentially go away. I was absolutely good with that.
The packet never indicated, however, if I still needed to go to court for the ticket. No one seemed to know, either.
The day before my court date, I finally called the town clerk for the town the ticket was in. A very nice, although hard of hearing lady brightly told me to just come on in, as, the court clerk, the judge, and probably the Assistant DA herself, would be at the Court House at 5:30 that very evening, and I could ask them directly with no problem.
Out into the pouring rain I went, with Bearded Man tagging along, and the 40 minute trip to the Court House in question commenced.
I had never actually gone thru the town we were in, but, I had heard about it. The rumors indicated that it was a beautiful little place that looked like it was right out of a Dicken's picture at Christmas. It did not disappoint, either.
We drove around a large traffic circle, and pulled up near a large white building that indicated it housed the Town Hall, Court House, Town Clerk, Court Clerk, Judge and the Police Station. The large front door was opened via a lift latch, into a long, dark, cluttered hallway, painted in gray. There was a handful of unhappy looking people in the hallway, sitting nervously, pacing, and occasionally whispering to people they were with.
"Ummmm." I whispered loudly, "I need to ask a question about a traffic ticket. Does anybody know where to go for that?"
"I think you can ask the judge, but, he's in there with people." said one helpful young man. "You can probably just go in and wait till he's done."
"No. No, that's okay. I will just wait here." I whispered again, taking a seat on a folding chair.
There was a few minutes of silence, as we listened to the pouring rain, while we all sat quietly in this long, dark, dismal gray hallway, with the large door to the court room looming in front of us.
'Jasin!"
"What?"
"This totally reminds me of that scene in the Disney Robin Hood movie with the fox and the bear. You know, that part where the entire town is in the prison, and it's raining out?"
"Shhhh!"
"Well. It's not very hospitable." I announced. At which everyone looked up and just stared at me incredulously. "Well, it ISN'T."
After about 30 minutes, someone mentioned that the Town Clerk was right down the hallway, so, I tiptoed down the hallway to find her. She was buried in an office toward the end. An elderly lady, hard of hearing who took a few moments to process what I was saying. "Oh! yes! I did speak to you. I forgot when I talked to you that tonight is attorney night for bigger things. You aren't going to be able to talk to the judge tonight. And I forgot that the court clerk is off today, and a temp is here. And I forgot that the DA won't be here tonight, either. That was LAST week!"
So, with well wishes to the miserable people in the hallway, we left.
The next day produced more rain, a hectic morning, and forgetting to grab Court Appropriate clothing for after work. I decided I would just have to wing it in scrubs, and, headed that way as soon as I left work. I arrived approximately 47 seconds before the judge did. And noted that, we were the only two people at the Court House/ Police station/ Town Hall etc.
I was awkwardly uncomfortable, as I decided what to do. Do I give him a few minutes to settle in? Do I follow him in? Is it appropriate to try to talk to him before traffic court begins? Would I get in MORE trouble? What to do, what to do?
Even though I looked like a wrung out mess, I gamely applied lip gloss, because clearly, that would make my scrubs and under eye puffy dark circles and frazzled hair go away, and went in after thinking about if for five minutes.
I pulled the metal latch up on the massive door, and it creaked open ominously. Tiptoeing in, it closed behind me with a bang echoing off the long, dark hallway walls. The rain continued outside, and the only light in the building poured out from the partially open door to the Court Room. With a deep breath, I tapped on the door, and pushed it open a little more. It swung in with an eerie creak in the otherwise silent building. With a gulp, I pasted a smile on, and called "Hello?"
The judge looked up, and said "Yes? Come in."
The floor boards squeaked with every single step, as I walked across the room, to stand in front of the judge's bench. Looking up at him, I introduced myself, and said I had a question.
"I would like to help you, but, my computer's acting up and it just says 'not responding'. I can't do a thing with it."
'Ummm. Well, Your Honor, try hitting 'control alt delete' at the same time, and bring up the task manager. Then, end it, and try to access it again after you close out of the task manager. Sir."
With a doubtful look, he attempted it. And it worked. So, I began my story again.
"WAIT! WHAT did you say? You said you WROTE to the DA already? Where did you learn to do that? Did you look it up on that Internet? I hate that Internet! Everybody thinks what they see is what they are supposed to do! You looked it up on the Internet, didn't you?"
"No Sir! The officer that pulled me over told me to!"
"He did? How did HE know to do that?"
"I don't know, but he seemed very nice. He really was a nice guy....."
"Well. Normally, you come to court, plead not guilty, and THEN talk to the DA to try to get it reduced to traffic school. Since you have bypassed the court all together, and already hashed a deal with the DA, I will print you a letter telling you that you have 30 days to get a date for traffic school and write me a nice letter telling me you will go."
"Okay, thank you so much for seeing me early! I really appreciate it."
"No problem. *SIGH* I just am not feeling it tonight. I just can't seem to get any energy up to be here. I am tired and just don't want to be here. Ever have those days? Ah well. I suppose I'll get thru it." remarked the judge.
"I understand completely, sir."
And just like that, court was over.
Also of note lately, I have decided that vanity will be the grease on my slide to hell. That, and, my abysmal attempts at Sunday School teaching.
My hair. The bane of my existence. It just does not want to behave. It looks ridiculous most of the time. So, most of the time, it is pulled back into a clip and I try to ignore mirrors and my picture on the constant video monitors I am on at work. I just can't look at it.
Also, headaches. Currently, my head has hurt for more than a month. We're used to it; it happens. We deal with it, and, eventually, after awhile, they become somewhat bearable again. Meanwhile though, they tend to make life miserable while situated indefinitely in my head.
I went to the eye doctor, to make sure it wasn't my eyes. 8.5 hours daily in front of a computer might be a trigger, right? The eye doctor sympathetically told me my eyes haven't changed, but, computer fatigue is a definite problem. There is really nothing to be done about it.
I tried teas and migraine medication and heat and cold and wondered if my insurance covered neck massages. Nothing. I thought, maybe the clip that is constantly in my hair, pulling it back might be a trigger. Also, my hair is dreadful most of the time. Spur of the moment, I headed to my sister's hair salon, and begged her to fix it.
2.5 hours and lots of laughs later, my hair was done. Shorter, colored, styled and my eyebrows done for good measure. I loved it. It was the best my hair had looked in literally years.
Bearded Man HATED it. He actually told me my headache the next morning was my hair, mourning it's loss. It was not a good subject in my household. We just do not talk about it now. Also, it did not fix my headaches.
One last note here... This past weekend I once again set up shop on the front porch, to hand out Halloween candy. I LOVE sitting on the porch steps and handing out candy. And, Bearded Man loves to take the kids all over town. He has an entire route mapped out that includes people that will give him beer, and where all the full sized candy bars are located.
I filled a huge bucket full of candy, and hoped I would have enough. I love seeing all the kids in their costumes and chatting with people I know. Turbo was stationed in the window the entire time, and he was a big hit with the crowds.
I am noticing a trend, though, of adults trick or treating. I think, if you are old enough to drink legally or, even vote, you are probably too old.
If you are old enough to wear costumes better suited to a Gentleman's Club, once again, you are too old.
If you have a new born baby, or, one that is under 6 months old, you do not need to be out collecting candy.
If you are with your children, and you are trick or treating too, because "Moms need candy too!" you should know better.
If you are a married couple with no children, you really should not be collecting candy, OR making major life decisions like marriage, because clearly you are not mature enough.
If you are an adult, and you are rude to myself or the little kids who are out, you need to know, that the candy in my bucket that I hate, will be what you get. That includes chocolate tootsie pops and Dots.
And that is all I have to say about that. I used to think I would grow up to be one of those nice old ladies that baked cookies for the grandkids and neighbor children. I think I will unfortunately end up an old lady that is all judgmental and yells at people that aggravate me. I kinda can't wait.
On the way back from New Jersey, approximately 40 minutes from home, I ended up with a speeding ticket. It is what it is. The nice officer advised me to write a nice letter to the DA and see what I could do about getting it reduced, at the very least. So, I did.
With only a few days remaining before my traffic court date, I received a packet that included my letter to the DA, and several papers that advised me to send the enclosed application for a Defensive Driving class and a money order for the required amount, and, the ticket would essentially go away. I was absolutely good with that.
The packet never indicated, however, if I still needed to go to court for the ticket. No one seemed to know, either.
The day before my court date, I finally called the town clerk for the town the ticket was in. A very nice, although hard of hearing lady brightly told me to just come on in, as, the court clerk, the judge, and probably the Assistant DA herself, would be at the Court House at 5:30 that very evening, and I could ask them directly with no problem.
Out into the pouring rain I went, with Bearded Man tagging along, and the 40 minute trip to the Court House in question commenced.
I had never actually gone thru the town we were in, but, I had heard about it. The rumors indicated that it was a beautiful little place that looked like it was right out of a Dicken's picture at Christmas. It did not disappoint, either.
We drove around a large traffic circle, and pulled up near a large white building that indicated it housed the Town Hall, Court House, Town Clerk, Court Clerk, Judge and the Police Station. The large front door was opened via a lift latch, into a long, dark, cluttered hallway, painted in gray. There was a handful of unhappy looking people in the hallway, sitting nervously, pacing, and occasionally whispering to people they were with.
"Ummmm." I whispered loudly, "I need to ask a question about a traffic ticket. Does anybody know where to go for that?"
"I think you can ask the judge, but, he's in there with people." said one helpful young man. "You can probably just go in and wait till he's done."
"No. No, that's okay. I will just wait here." I whispered again, taking a seat on a folding chair.
There was a few minutes of silence, as we listened to the pouring rain, while we all sat quietly in this long, dark, dismal gray hallway, with the large door to the court room looming in front of us.
'Jasin!"
"What?"
"This totally reminds me of that scene in the Disney Robin Hood movie with the fox and the bear. You know, that part where the entire town is in the prison, and it's raining out?"
"Shhhh!"
"Well. It's not very hospitable." I announced. At which everyone looked up and just stared at me incredulously. "Well, it ISN'T."
After about 30 minutes, someone mentioned that the Town Clerk was right down the hallway, so, I tiptoed down the hallway to find her. She was buried in an office toward the end. An elderly lady, hard of hearing who took a few moments to process what I was saying. "Oh! yes! I did speak to you. I forgot when I talked to you that tonight is attorney night for bigger things. You aren't going to be able to talk to the judge tonight. And I forgot that the court clerk is off today, and a temp is here. And I forgot that the DA won't be here tonight, either. That was LAST week!"
So, with well wishes to the miserable people in the hallway, we left.
The next day produced more rain, a hectic morning, and forgetting to grab Court Appropriate clothing for after work. I decided I would just have to wing it in scrubs, and, headed that way as soon as I left work. I arrived approximately 47 seconds before the judge did. And noted that, we were the only two people at the Court House/ Police station/ Town Hall etc.
I was awkwardly uncomfortable, as I decided what to do. Do I give him a few minutes to settle in? Do I follow him in? Is it appropriate to try to talk to him before traffic court begins? Would I get in MORE trouble? What to do, what to do?
Even though I looked like a wrung out mess, I gamely applied lip gloss, because clearly, that would make my scrubs and under eye puffy dark circles and frazzled hair go away, and went in after thinking about if for five minutes.
I pulled the metal latch up on the massive door, and it creaked open ominously. Tiptoeing in, it closed behind me with a bang echoing off the long, dark hallway walls. The rain continued outside, and the only light in the building poured out from the partially open door to the Court Room. With a deep breath, I tapped on the door, and pushed it open a little more. It swung in with an eerie creak in the otherwise silent building. With a gulp, I pasted a smile on, and called "Hello?"
The judge looked up, and said "Yes? Come in."
The floor boards squeaked with every single step, as I walked across the room, to stand in front of the judge's bench. Looking up at him, I introduced myself, and said I had a question.
"I would like to help you, but, my computer's acting up and it just says 'not responding'. I can't do a thing with it."
'Ummm. Well, Your Honor, try hitting 'control alt delete' at the same time, and bring up the task manager. Then, end it, and try to access it again after you close out of the task manager. Sir."
With a doubtful look, he attempted it. And it worked. So, I began my story again.
"WAIT! WHAT did you say? You said you WROTE to the DA already? Where did you learn to do that? Did you look it up on that Internet? I hate that Internet! Everybody thinks what they see is what they are supposed to do! You looked it up on the Internet, didn't you?"
"No Sir! The officer that pulled me over told me to!"
"He did? How did HE know to do that?"
"I don't know, but he seemed very nice. He really was a nice guy....."
"Well. Normally, you come to court, plead not guilty, and THEN talk to the DA to try to get it reduced to traffic school. Since you have bypassed the court all together, and already hashed a deal with the DA, I will print you a letter telling you that you have 30 days to get a date for traffic school and write me a nice letter telling me you will go."
"Okay, thank you so much for seeing me early! I really appreciate it."
"No problem. *SIGH* I just am not feeling it tonight. I just can't seem to get any energy up to be here. I am tired and just don't want to be here. Ever have those days? Ah well. I suppose I'll get thru it." remarked the judge.
"I understand completely, sir."
And just like that, court was over.
Also of note lately, I have decided that vanity will be the grease on my slide to hell. That, and, my abysmal attempts at Sunday School teaching.
My hair. The bane of my existence. It just does not want to behave. It looks ridiculous most of the time. So, most of the time, it is pulled back into a clip and I try to ignore mirrors and my picture on the constant video monitors I am on at work. I just can't look at it.
Also, headaches. Currently, my head has hurt for more than a month. We're used to it; it happens. We deal with it, and, eventually, after awhile, they become somewhat bearable again. Meanwhile though, they tend to make life miserable while situated indefinitely in my head.
I went to the eye doctor, to make sure it wasn't my eyes. 8.5 hours daily in front of a computer might be a trigger, right? The eye doctor sympathetically told me my eyes haven't changed, but, computer fatigue is a definite problem. There is really nothing to be done about it.
I tried teas and migraine medication and heat and cold and wondered if my insurance covered neck massages. Nothing. I thought, maybe the clip that is constantly in my hair, pulling it back might be a trigger. Also, my hair is dreadful most of the time. Spur of the moment, I headed to my sister's hair salon, and begged her to fix it.
2.5 hours and lots of laughs later, my hair was done. Shorter, colored, styled and my eyebrows done for good measure. I loved it. It was the best my hair had looked in literally years.
Bearded Man HATED it. He actually told me my headache the next morning was my hair, mourning it's loss. It was not a good subject in my household. We just do not talk about it now. Also, it did not fix my headaches.
One last note here... This past weekend I once again set up shop on the front porch, to hand out Halloween candy. I LOVE sitting on the porch steps and handing out candy. And, Bearded Man loves to take the kids all over town. He has an entire route mapped out that includes people that will give him beer, and where all the full sized candy bars are located.
I filled a huge bucket full of candy, and hoped I would have enough. I love seeing all the kids in their costumes and chatting with people I know. Turbo was stationed in the window the entire time, and he was a big hit with the crowds.
I am noticing a trend, though, of adults trick or treating. I think, if you are old enough to drink legally or, even vote, you are probably too old.
If you are old enough to wear costumes better suited to a Gentleman's Club, once again, you are too old.
If you have a new born baby, or, one that is under 6 months old, you do not need to be out collecting candy.
If you are with your children, and you are trick or treating too, because "Moms need candy too!" you should know better.
If you are a married couple with no children, you really should not be collecting candy, OR making major life decisions like marriage, because clearly you are not mature enough.
If you are an adult, and you are rude to myself or the little kids who are out, you need to know, that the candy in my bucket that I hate, will be what you get. That includes chocolate tootsie pops and Dots.
And that is all I have to say about that. I used to think I would grow up to be one of those nice old ladies that baked cookies for the grandkids and neighbor children. I think I will unfortunately end up an old lady that is all judgmental and yells at people that aggravate me. I kinda can't wait.
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
We're Going on an Adventure, Kids!
Our Anniversary weekend came and went. Once our weekend trip was cancelled, Bearded Man announced he had to work the entire weekend, and that we wouldn't see much of him.
On the actual date of our Anniversary, whatever could go wrong - did. It was so bad, that, the enormity of the awfulness was (nearly but not quite) amusing. The day rounded off with: driving myself to the Urgent Care after slipping on a chunk of wood the kids had left at the bottom of the porch stairs, and the dog eating the cake I baked for the day. It was quite possibly the worst Anniversary to date. I feel like, after 17 of them, I am justified in deciding this was definitely the worst.
Since my ankle was badly sprained, the attempt was made to keep it elevated the next day, but, the gorgeous weather was making it difficult. By Columbus Day, I needed to get out of the house. Whenever this happens, I tell the kids we are going on an adventure. The kids and I love it. So, we packed a picnic, threw everything in the van, and were off.
Keeping the ankle in mind, I decided not to explore some semi local off the beaten path waterfalls, and try to find this place called "Little Rock City", instead. We have all spent lots of time at another local place, called "Rock City" which, I decided was outside my current capabilities, so, why not try a smaller, presumably more do-able version?
An hour of driving as we tried to find it later, We ended up on what we thought was the right road. Which turned into a rock strewn dirt road. That seemed to go on forever.
Soon, we were followed by a large pickup truck that tailgated me, as I navigated the rough terrain while imagining flat tires and no cell service or someone coming the opposite direction, on this scary one lane dirt road clearly leading strait to hell. There was no place to pull off, no place to turn around, and certainly no way to get out of the way, should another vehicle to attempt to drive out of this place.
Eventually, after what seemed like forever, the pickup truck and I ended up at a dead end where several other vehicles were parked. We had presumably arrived. A vague sign indicated that the trails were to the right and to the left. We gazed around and just saw trees. No signs of trails anywhere.
The occupants of the pickup hopped out, and I had a sinking feeling, as I watched them. The passenger looked like she had stepped right out of the middle spread of an Outdoor Adventure magazine. Hiking boots, khaki pants, white tank top with an olive drab green button up shirt thrown casually over that, blond hair in the perfect sporty cut... The male driver hopped into the back of the truck, and began donning special socks, hiking boots, a backpack with water carrier in it.
A glance at my children, who were all wearing jeans and sneakers, after I vetoed Lexi's long sweeping prairie skirt and Kaila's cowgirl boots, and my own swollen ankle, and I began to panic inside.
"Look at those two guys, Mom! They have a backpack!" one of my kids remarked.
"I think the passenger is a girl." I corrected.
"No, I think it's a guy" my kids all agreed.
"It has BOOBS, it's a GIRL!" I insisted without thinking. At which, all four of my kids took a look at the poor hiker's chest.
"SHE is not an "IT"!" hissed Kaila "And, could you PLEASE not talk about HER boobs so loudly?? What if she hears us???"
"I was just saying, that's not a guy. Let's figure out where a trail is."
We were off. The boys found me a walking stick, and we entered the woods. In the middle of nowhere. With four kids, a sprained ankle, no cell service and no idea where we were. "Let's go on an Adventure, she said. It will be FUN, she said!" Mumbled my ever optimistic teenager, as she trudged beside me.
After wandering for while, we somehow stumbled upon trail markers, and decided to follow them. At least with trail markers, we were not wandering quite so blindly, right? The boys made it a challenge to do the entire trail at a run, as they raced ahead to find more trail markers. It wasn't until we had been in the woods for awhile that the thought occurred to me: What if, in this vast expanse of forest, the trail markers weren't leading us in a nice little circle, but, deep into the forest and we might now be nowhere near where we needed to be, to get back to our vehicle? The other hikers had come prepared with sensible gear and backpacks and water and hiking clothes. What was I thinking? What kind of mother takes her kids to the middle of nowhere in the woods to go hiking with absolutely no idea what she is doing? I grew up hiking around the woods, but, my kids hadn't. What if we needed to figure out how to backtrack out of this place?
"MOM! There is a guy riding around the woods on his bike!!!" One of the kids yelled loudly. Sure enough, there was a lycra clad man, with a backpack strapped on, attempting to ride his bike through the mess. Which turned out to be the end of the trail. We were right near where we had begun, thank the dear Lord. We stumbled out of the woods right near the sweetest little shelter/picnic table. It had a roof and the table built right into it. It was nestled in a clearing but out of sight of the parking area. It looked like it belonged in a fairy tale. The kids couldn't wait to check it out. And, check it out, they did. They proceeded to spend our entire picnic, reading the awful things that previous picnickers had written and carved into the posts and ceiling of the picnic area.
Memories and stuff.
Deciding that the adventure was over for the day, we re-packed our van and prepared to leave. It was with some smugness, that we noted that the pickup truck with the prepared hikers that had followed us in, had already left. The kids and I were extremely proud that we outlasted them, (wandering blindly about the woods, but, that doesn't count) and it absolutely made the trip worth it.
On to other things. George, actually. George is now in Kindergarten. Every night at dinner, we say grace and then the kids all wait for me to say "So. How was your day?" and then we all talk about school. George's recent recitation went as such:
"First we did reading and math and then we did group and circle time andIonlyhadtositintimeoutforateenytinylittlebit and then we went outside and then it was lunchtime - "
"WAIT! Back up. WHAT did you just say?"
"We went outside, Mama."
"Before that?"
"Oh. Lunch? I ate all my lunch, Mama."
It took some digging, but, it seems George was in time out at school for talking too much. A recent update on that indicated he has been in time out "Only five times for talking too much, Mama! There are LOTS of kids who are in time out way more than that." Not going to lie here. I am dreading Parent Teacher conferences next month.
Also, the dinner debacles continue. I continue to cook. My kids continue to refuse to eat. Joe, in particular. The other day, I may a big pot of cheddar broccoli soup. It was so good. Seriously. Restaurant worthy soup. I could eat it all day every day.
Soup was ladled into bowls and passed around the table, and Joe's hysterics began. Some days I am more tolerant of it than others. Before I could decide if this was a tolerant day or not, George stepped in.
"Joe! Stop whining! All you have to do is say 'Mama. This is so so good. It's great! But, I am not hungry right now, so, I can't eat it. Thanks for cooking dinner. It's very good' Then, later, you just say you are hungry, and you can make yourself something before bed. So stop crying!!!!!"
I don't think George knew I heard that, because, he then turned around and said "This is so good Mom. I really like it! I am just not hungry right now. I will maybe have some later, but, I can't eat now. Thanks, Mom!"
The boy is FIVE. I had no idea I have been getting played by my five year old.
That about sums up life in the household these days. We went from the busiest summer I can remember, with weekends packed full of exciting things, to, Nothing. This has been quite the adjustment in our household. I think some creativity is going to have to happen, or, it has the potential to be a very long winter.
Till next time!
On the actual date of our Anniversary, whatever could go wrong - did. It was so bad, that, the enormity of the awfulness was (nearly but not quite) amusing. The day rounded off with: driving myself to the Urgent Care after slipping on a chunk of wood the kids had left at the bottom of the porch stairs, and the dog eating the cake I baked for the day. It was quite possibly the worst Anniversary to date. I feel like, after 17 of them, I am justified in deciding this was definitely the worst.
Since my ankle was badly sprained, the attempt was made to keep it elevated the next day, but, the gorgeous weather was making it difficult. By Columbus Day, I needed to get out of the house. Whenever this happens, I tell the kids we are going on an adventure. The kids and I love it. So, we packed a picnic, threw everything in the van, and were off.
Keeping the ankle in mind, I decided not to explore some semi local off the beaten path waterfalls, and try to find this place called "Little Rock City", instead. We have all spent lots of time at another local place, called "Rock City" which, I decided was outside my current capabilities, so, why not try a smaller, presumably more do-able version?
An hour of driving as we tried to find it later, We ended up on what we thought was the right road. Which turned into a rock strewn dirt road. That seemed to go on forever.
Soon, we were followed by a large pickup truck that tailgated me, as I navigated the rough terrain while imagining flat tires and no cell service or someone coming the opposite direction, on this scary one lane dirt road clearly leading strait to hell. There was no place to pull off, no place to turn around, and certainly no way to get out of the way, should another vehicle to attempt to drive out of this place.
Eventually, after what seemed like forever, the pickup truck and I ended up at a dead end where several other vehicles were parked. We had presumably arrived. A vague sign indicated that the trails were to the right and to the left. We gazed around and just saw trees. No signs of trails anywhere.
The occupants of the pickup hopped out, and I had a sinking feeling, as I watched them. The passenger looked like she had stepped right out of the middle spread of an Outdoor Adventure magazine. Hiking boots, khaki pants, white tank top with an olive drab green button up shirt thrown casually over that, blond hair in the perfect sporty cut... The male driver hopped into the back of the truck, and began donning special socks, hiking boots, a backpack with water carrier in it.
A glance at my children, who were all wearing jeans and sneakers, after I vetoed Lexi's long sweeping prairie skirt and Kaila's cowgirl boots, and my own swollen ankle, and I began to panic inside.
"Look at those two guys, Mom! They have a backpack!" one of my kids remarked.
"I think the passenger is a girl." I corrected.
"No, I think it's a guy" my kids all agreed.
"It has BOOBS, it's a GIRL!" I insisted without thinking. At which, all four of my kids took a look at the poor hiker's chest.
"SHE is not an "IT"!" hissed Kaila "And, could you PLEASE not talk about HER boobs so loudly?? What if she hears us???"
"I was just saying, that's not a guy. Let's figure out where a trail is."
We were off. The boys found me a walking stick, and we entered the woods. In the middle of nowhere. With four kids, a sprained ankle, no cell service and no idea where we were. "Let's go on an Adventure, she said. It will be FUN, she said!" Mumbled my ever optimistic teenager, as she trudged beside me.
After wandering for while, we somehow stumbled upon trail markers, and decided to follow them. At least with trail markers, we were not wandering quite so blindly, right? The boys made it a challenge to do the entire trail at a run, as they raced ahead to find more trail markers. It wasn't until we had been in the woods for awhile that the thought occurred to me: What if, in this vast expanse of forest, the trail markers weren't leading us in a nice little circle, but, deep into the forest and we might now be nowhere near where we needed to be, to get back to our vehicle? The other hikers had come prepared with sensible gear and backpacks and water and hiking clothes. What was I thinking? What kind of mother takes her kids to the middle of nowhere in the woods to go hiking with absolutely no idea what she is doing? I grew up hiking around the woods, but, my kids hadn't. What if we needed to figure out how to backtrack out of this place?
"MOM! There is a guy riding around the woods on his bike!!!" One of the kids yelled loudly. Sure enough, there was a lycra clad man, with a backpack strapped on, attempting to ride his bike through the mess. Which turned out to be the end of the trail. We were right near where we had begun, thank the dear Lord. We stumbled out of the woods right near the sweetest little shelter/picnic table. It had a roof and the table built right into it. It was nestled in a clearing but out of sight of the parking area. It looked like it belonged in a fairy tale. The kids couldn't wait to check it out. And, check it out, they did. They proceeded to spend our entire picnic, reading the awful things that previous picnickers had written and carved into the posts and ceiling of the picnic area.
Memories and stuff.
Deciding that the adventure was over for the day, we re-packed our van and prepared to leave. It was with some smugness, that we noted that the pickup truck with the prepared hikers that had followed us in, had already left. The kids and I were extremely proud that we outlasted them, (wandering blindly about the woods, but, that doesn't count) and it absolutely made the trip worth it.
On to other things. George, actually. George is now in Kindergarten. Every night at dinner, we say grace and then the kids all wait for me to say "So. How was your day?" and then we all talk about school. George's recent recitation went as such:
"First we did reading and math and then we did group and circle time andIonlyhadtositintimeoutforateenytinylittlebit and then we went outside and then it was lunchtime - "
"WAIT! Back up. WHAT did you just say?"
"We went outside, Mama."
"Before that?"
"Oh. Lunch? I ate all my lunch, Mama."
It took some digging, but, it seems George was in time out at school for talking too much. A recent update on that indicated he has been in time out "Only five times for talking too much, Mama! There are LOTS of kids who are in time out way more than that." Not going to lie here. I am dreading Parent Teacher conferences next month.
Also, the dinner debacles continue. I continue to cook. My kids continue to refuse to eat. Joe, in particular. The other day, I may a big pot of cheddar broccoli soup. It was so good. Seriously. Restaurant worthy soup. I could eat it all day every day.
Soup was ladled into bowls and passed around the table, and Joe's hysterics began. Some days I am more tolerant of it than others. Before I could decide if this was a tolerant day or not, George stepped in.
"Joe! Stop whining! All you have to do is say 'Mama. This is so so good. It's great! But, I am not hungry right now, so, I can't eat it. Thanks for cooking dinner. It's very good' Then, later, you just say you are hungry, and you can make yourself something before bed. So stop crying!!!!!"
I don't think George knew I heard that, because, he then turned around and said "This is so good Mom. I really like it! I am just not hungry right now. I will maybe have some later, but, I can't eat now. Thanks, Mom!"
The boy is FIVE. I had no idea I have been getting played by my five year old.
That about sums up life in the household these days. We went from the busiest summer I can remember, with weekends packed full of exciting things, to, Nothing. This has been quite the adjustment in our household. I think some creativity is going to have to happen, or, it has the potential to be a very long winter.
Till next time!
Monday, September 28, 2015
Plans
It's a conspiracy. I am sure of it. We can have no plans ever again.
Way back, when there was still snow on the ground, I booked a trip to the Adirondacks for our upcoming 17th anniversary. It was also going to double as the honeymoon we never took. We were going to stay at this Bed and Breakfast that had rave reviews about breakfasts that are evidently hand delivered by 6 angels strait from heaven every morning.
We were going to hike up TWO mountains at the peak of the colorful fall leaves.
We were going to have three whole days without the kids.
I even had a dress for dinner.
But: Kids.
Don't get me wrong, I adore my kids. I have come to the conclusion, however, that, we will be unable to have plans again for the next 12 years. At least.
Every time we have attempted to plan something WITHOUT the kids for the last year, Kaila in particular, has something that trumps it. We have resorted to occasionally going grocery shopping together, and stopping at roadside stands for guilt ridden ice cream, to count as any sort of date these days. We cannot even stay out long: the groceries would spoil.
Anyhow, back to our anniversary trip. Or lack of. Because, it's canceled. Which is just not a good subject for me at this time. Follow along here:
15 days before the trip:
We had a five day heads up that Swim tryouts are coming up. And the expense that comes with it.
2 Scout Camping trips were announced.
The Scout chicken BBQ was announced - also - please sell 50 tickets to said BBQ - also - it's the same weekend we planned to go away.
Kaila mentions that she will be playing in the Powder Puff Football game for Homecoming.
Kaila also mentions Homecoming.
Turns out: Homecoming is the same weekend we will be away. (All on a holiday weekend)
Also, we all now have 2 weeks' notice to procure a Homecoming dress. Thank you, for the excellent notice, Franklinville Central School, that, not only do we have all these activities on a holiday weekend, but, there is also next to no notice for any of them.
Kaila then gets selected to sing the Star Spangled Banner at the Homecoming football game.
Also, the washer is not working - again.
Also, Joe has decided to take up the drums in the school band, Good Lord Help Us, and, needs money to rent the practice pads.
Also, school pictures.
Also, the kids all, across the board, out grew their clothing within the last 2 weeks, and all needed jeans.
The trip had to go. There went the budget, there went the time.
"Okay. Well, we can at least do dinner, even if it's just locally in Olean, on the 9th, the day before our anniversary." says Bearded Man.
"Powder Puff football game."
"No, Mom, I think that's the Homecoming Game. I have to sing in that one. I don't know when the Powder Puff Game actually is." pipes up Kaila.
"Umm. Okay, what about ON our anniversary?"
"Homecoming."
"What about the week before, on Saturday?"
"Kaila has to babysit all day, then volunteer at the Beer and Cheese Fest, for volunteer hours for church to get her confirmation. Also, Joe has a Scout trip to the Scout camp in Pennsylvania."
"How about the Saturday after that?"
"Kaila has that appointment, and I think, babysitting."
"What about Comedy Night at that place in Olean?"
"Same night as the beer and cheese fest and Joe at Scouts."
"Ummm. Lunch?"
"Which day? Kaila is babysitting Saturday, we have Sunday school Sundays....Hey, while you're at it, the Olean something or other is putting on 'Handel's Messiah' November 14th. I really would like to go. Can you put it on the calendar for me, please?"
"Yeah. So. We can't do ANYTHING for our anniversary?"
"Not looking hopeful. We COULD try and go look at washers, just the two of us.... let's see if Kaila can watch the - oh, there she is, Kaila, could you -"
"Mom, I don't feel very good...."
"HOW does she KNOW we were going to try to leave???"
This morning, while I signed a check for Joe's drum practice stuff (whimper. Drums!) I noted a schedule of events.
November 14th, the date of Handel's Messiah: Kaila has a school concert.
On the "up" side, I get to pick up my new washer tomorrow. Which is good, because the laundry situation is getting dire. Attempting to wash more than 3 items at one time results in the washer stopping. It's only 5.5 years old, however, we have had to tear it apart and fix it at least twice a year since we bought it.
Washer shopping went as such:
My list of desires was fairly short, "Please show me the biggest washers you have."
There were 3 that fit my requirements. The one I ordered will be in Tuesday, I was told.
"Jasin, do you want to bring the truck down to get it Tuesday evening?"
"Well. I will probably have to borrow a truck from work..."
"Why? You own a pickup truck!"
"It has a hard cover over the box - it doesn't go up high enough to accommodate it. Also, the truck at work has a lift gate..."
"You brought the stove home in your pickup truck and it's the same size!... just saying."
"Lift. Gate."
"Okay. If I come to pick it up with my minivan, will you guys assist me in getting it loaded in my vehicle?" I finally asked the sales guy.
"Oh yeah! We'll even load it into your vehicle for you, Ma'am."
"Jasin. You just got out - hauled by a minivan. Ha!"
Way back, when there was still snow on the ground, I booked a trip to the Adirondacks for our upcoming 17th anniversary. It was also going to double as the honeymoon we never took. We were going to stay at this Bed and Breakfast that had rave reviews about breakfasts that are evidently hand delivered by 6 angels strait from heaven every morning.
We were going to hike up TWO mountains at the peak of the colorful fall leaves.
We were going to have three whole days without the kids.
I even had a dress for dinner.
But: Kids.
Don't get me wrong, I adore my kids. I have come to the conclusion, however, that, we will be unable to have plans again for the next 12 years. At least.
Every time we have attempted to plan something WITHOUT the kids for the last year, Kaila in particular, has something that trumps it. We have resorted to occasionally going grocery shopping together, and stopping at roadside stands for guilt ridden ice cream, to count as any sort of date these days. We cannot even stay out long: the groceries would spoil.
Anyhow, back to our anniversary trip. Or lack of. Because, it's canceled. Which is just not a good subject for me at this time. Follow along here:
15 days before the trip:
We had a five day heads up that Swim tryouts are coming up. And the expense that comes with it.
2 Scout Camping trips were announced.
The Scout chicken BBQ was announced - also - please sell 50 tickets to said BBQ - also - it's the same weekend we planned to go away.
Kaila mentions that she will be playing in the Powder Puff Football game for Homecoming.
Kaila also mentions Homecoming.
Turns out: Homecoming is the same weekend we will be away. (All on a holiday weekend)
Also, we all now have 2 weeks' notice to procure a Homecoming dress. Thank you, for the excellent notice, Franklinville Central School, that, not only do we have all these activities on a holiday weekend, but, there is also next to no notice for any of them.
Kaila then gets selected to sing the Star Spangled Banner at the Homecoming football game.
Also, the washer is not working - again.
Also, Joe has decided to take up the drums in the school band, Good Lord Help Us, and, needs money to rent the practice pads.
Also, school pictures.
Also, the kids all, across the board, out grew their clothing within the last 2 weeks, and all needed jeans.
The trip had to go. There went the budget, there went the time.
"Okay. Well, we can at least do dinner, even if it's just locally in Olean, on the 9th, the day before our anniversary." says Bearded Man.
"Powder Puff football game."
"No, Mom, I think that's the Homecoming Game. I have to sing in that one. I don't know when the Powder Puff Game actually is." pipes up Kaila.
"Umm. Okay, what about ON our anniversary?"
"Homecoming."
"What about the week before, on Saturday?"
"Kaila has to babysit all day, then volunteer at the Beer and Cheese Fest, for volunteer hours for church to get her confirmation. Also, Joe has a Scout trip to the Scout camp in Pennsylvania."
"How about the Saturday after that?"
"Kaila has that appointment, and I think, babysitting."
"What about Comedy Night at that place in Olean?"
"Same night as the beer and cheese fest and Joe at Scouts."
"Ummm. Lunch?"
"Which day? Kaila is babysitting Saturday, we have Sunday school Sundays....Hey, while you're at it, the Olean something or other is putting on 'Handel's Messiah' November 14th. I really would like to go. Can you put it on the calendar for me, please?"
"Yeah. So. We can't do ANYTHING for our anniversary?"
"Not looking hopeful. We COULD try and go look at washers, just the two of us.... let's see if Kaila can watch the - oh, there she is, Kaila, could you -"
"Mom, I don't feel very good...."
"HOW does she KNOW we were going to try to leave???"
This morning, while I signed a check for Joe's drum practice stuff (whimper. Drums!) I noted a schedule of events.
November 14th, the date of Handel's Messiah: Kaila has a school concert.
On the "up" side, I get to pick up my new washer tomorrow. Which is good, because the laundry situation is getting dire. Attempting to wash more than 3 items at one time results in the washer stopping. It's only 5.5 years old, however, we have had to tear it apart and fix it at least twice a year since we bought it.
Washer shopping went as such:
My list of desires was fairly short, "Please show me the biggest washers you have."
There were 3 that fit my requirements. The one I ordered will be in Tuesday, I was told.
"Jasin, do you want to bring the truck down to get it Tuesday evening?"
"Well. I will probably have to borrow a truck from work..."
"Why? You own a pickup truck!"
"It has a hard cover over the box - it doesn't go up high enough to accommodate it. Also, the truck at work has a lift gate..."
"You brought the stove home in your pickup truck and it's the same size!... just saying."
"Lift. Gate."
"Okay. If I come to pick it up with my minivan, will you guys assist me in getting it loaded in my vehicle?" I finally asked the sales guy.
"Oh yeah! We'll even load it into your vehicle for you, Ma'am."
"Jasin. You just got out - hauled by a minivan. Ha!"
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
If Moms Charted Like Nurses
This week has been particularly busy at work. With busy comes charting. Overloads of charting creates thinking in terms of charting.
Along with the craziness at work, has been the continued transition of the kids back at school, and the constant and numerous Facebook posts from fellow Mamas out there, regarding the miserable sickness bugs already running rampant through the school.
Craziness at work is not conducive to taking time off from work to deal with sick kids. There is nearly a panic as I look at my scheduled for tomorrow every day, and think "Please please do not get sick tomorrow! I CANNOT not be at work tomorrow!"
Which becomes complete guilt, because what kind of mother would even THINK that way? The kind of mother who knows how hard it is to come by much needed cardiac or wound or whatever specialty appointments for my patients, who REALLY REALLY need to see the cardiologist, the wound specialist and other specialists. While recalling the near impossibility of getting someone out to my clinic to cover these appointments if I cannot be there.
Anyhow. Kids all over town are sick, This mama is busy at work, and the best I can do is lecture about hand washing and try to keep them as healthy as possible. As we finished dinner last night, I began my hand washing lecture, which rolled into yet another lecture on the proper way to wash dishes. I am determined that my kids will be able to wash the dishes, get at least a decent amount of them clean, do so without using every drop of hot water, and to do it all in under 90 minutes.
I was so tired yesterday, that, without thinking about it, I mentally began to compose my charting notes in my head:
September 22, 2015 1630, Education given regarding hand washing, proper form, proper length of time, and appropriate times to wash hands. After using toilet, before and after meals, when soiled etc. Demonstration given with children stating good understanding of such. All children able to properly demonstrate proper hand washing technique and voice appropriate times to wash hands. Children understand that writer of note is available for any further questions PRN.
September 22, 2015 1700, Dinner served, utilizing standard serving sizes and incorporating all food groups. Children consumed approximately 25% of their meal. Children noted to be dissatisfied with their meal offering, voicing refusal to eat, weeping, stating they may starve. Children educated regarding importance of good nutrition, growing bodily needs for nutrients for proper growth and development, good eating habits highly encouraged. No starvation noted this meal. Will continue to monitor intake.
September 22, 2015 1710, Children c/o behaviors demonstrated by child #4. Children informed writer of note that child has been attempting to order cappuccino from local bank drive thru every day on walk home from school. It was noted that this is an embarrassment to remaining children, as well as a drain on time better spent at home. Child #4 demonstrating no repentance for such. Attempts at education resulted in unrepentant laughter from child. This writer attempted to assume stern demeanor, however all attempts resulted in failure. Will monitor phone for complaints from bank in question.
September 23, 2015 0630, Children stated that they do not feel they sleep long enough. Earlier bed times offered but refused. Writer of note stated that less talking/arguing at HS (Hour of sleep) would be beneficial to refreshing sleep. Children stated that they feel early school wake up times are creating exhaustion and crankiness. Refusal to get dressed noted. Child #2 was noted to be attempting to wear her pajama top to school this date. Child highly encouraged to don appropriate clothing. Child #4 attempting to wear shorts. It was pointed out that the temperatures outdoors were at the nearly freezing mark, and longer trousers were encouraged. It was noted that child was wearing pants that no longer fit him properly in length, however, child insisted. Writer of note educated children regarding proper and appropriate school attire vs the homeless child look they insist they favor. Children denied need to change their clothes. Writer of note will monitor backpacks for any notes from teachers. Children were encouraged to brush teeth, brush hair and wash faces before departing for school.
September 23, 2015 0815, Received notice from swim staff at school that swim team tryouts are upcoming. Will adjust Anniversary trip to the Adirondacks budget to accommodate high rates of swim team cost.
September 23, 2015 1030, Voice Mail received from Scout Master regarding two upcoming Scout camp trips writer of note was unaware of. Additional adjustment of upcoming Adirondack trip budget once again applied. Will alert Scout Master of child's participation in upcoming Scouting Trips.
September 23, 2015 1045, Late entry regarding incident 09/19/2015 @ 1630. Children presented to living room with puppy. Children insist that puppy is needed for emotional reasons. Request denied via Paternal insistence. Weeping ensued. Children educated as to care and keeping of puppy, puppy needing human interaction while children are at school/parents at work. Children refused all education to such. Puppy returned in good condition. Will continue to monitor emotional needs PRN.
Welcome to my life. I am kinda glad Moms don't have to chart.
Along with the craziness at work, has been the continued transition of the kids back at school, and the constant and numerous Facebook posts from fellow Mamas out there, regarding the miserable sickness bugs already running rampant through the school.
Craziness at work is not conducive to taking time off from work to deal with sick kids. There is nearly a panic as I look at my scheduled for tomorrow every day, and think "Please please do not get sick tomorrow! I CANNOT not be at work tomorrow!"
Which becomes complete guilt, because what kind of mother would even THINK that way? The kind of mother who knows how hard it is to come by much needed cardiac or wound or whatever specialty appointments for my patients, who REALLY REALLY need to see the cardiologist, the wound specialist and other specialists. While recalling the near impossibility of getting someone out to my clinic to cover these appointments if I cannot be there.
Anyhow. Kids all over town are sick, This mama is busy at work, and the best I can do is lecture about hand washing and try to keep them as healthy as possible. As we finished dinner last night, I began my hand washing lecture, which rolled into yet another lecture on the proper way to wash dishes. I am determined that my kids will be able to wash the dishes, get at least a decent amount of them clean, do so without using every drop of hot water, and to do it all in under 90 minutes.
I was so tired yesterday, that, without thinking about it, I mentally began to compose my charting notes in my head:
September 22, 2015 1630, Education given regarding hand washing, proper form, proper length of time, and appropriate times to wash hands. After using toilet, before and after meals, when soiled etc. Demonstration given with children stating good understanding of such. All children able to properly demonstrate proper hand washing technique and voice appropriate times to wash hands. Children understand that writer of note is available for any further questions PRN.
September 22, 2015 1700, Dinner served, utilizing standard serving sizes and incorporating all food groups. Children consumed approximately 25% of their meal. Children noted to be dissatisfied with their meal offering, voicing refusal to eat, weeping, stating they may starve. Children educated regarding importance of good nutrition, growing bodily needs for nutrients for proper growth and development, good eating habits highly encouraged. No starvation noted this meal. Will continue to monitor intake.
September 22, 2015 1710, Children c/o behaviors demonstrated by child #4. Children informed writer of note that child has been attempting to order cappuccino from local bank drive thru every day on walk home from school. It was noted that this is an embarrassment to remaining children, as well as a drain on time better spent at home. Child #4 demonstrating no repentance for such. Attempts at education resulted in unrepentant laughter from child. This writer attempted to assume stern demeanor, however all attempts resulted in failure. Will monitor phone for complaints from bank in question.
September 23, 2015 0630, Children stated that they do not feel they sleep long enough. Earlier bed times offered but refused. Writer of note stated that less talking/arguing at HS (Hour of sleep) would be beneficial to refreshing sleep. Children stated that they feel early school wake up times are creating exhaustion and crankiness. Refusal to get dressed noted. Child #2 was noted to be attempting to wear her pajama top to school this date. Child highly encouraged to don appropriate clothing. Child #4 attempting to wear shorts. It was pointed out that the temperatures outdoors were at the nearly freezing mark, and longer trousers were encouraged. It was noted that child was wearing pants that no longer fit him properly in length, however, child insisted. Writer of note educated children regarding proper and appropriate school attire vs the homeless child look they insist they favor. Children denied need to change their clothes. Writer of note will monitor backpacks for any notes from teachers. Children were encouraged to brush teeth, brush hair and wash faces before departing for school.
September 23, 2015 0815, Received notice from swim staff at school that swim team tryouts are upcoming. Will adjust Anniversary trip to the Adirondacks budget to accommodate high rates of swim team cost.
September 23, 2015 1030, Voice Mail received from Scout Master regarding two upcoming Scout camp trips writer of note was unaware of. Additional adjustment of upcoming Adirondack trip budget once again applied. Will alert Scout Master of child's participation in upcoming Scouting Trips.
September 23, 2015 1045, Late entry regarding incident 09/19/2015 @ 1630. Children presented to living room with puppy. Children insist that puppy is needed for emotional reasons. Request denied via Paternal insistence. Weeping ensued. Children educated as to care and keeping of puppy, puppy needing human interaction while children are at school/parents at work. Children refused all education to such. Puppy returned in good condition. Will continue to monitor emotional needs PRN.
Welcome to my life. I am kinda glad Moms don't have to chart.
Monday, September 21, 2015
17 Fish and a Jukebox
cult
noun, often attributive \ˈkəlt\
: a small religious group that is not part of a larger and more accepted religion and that has beliefs regarded by many people as extreme or dangerous
: a situation in which people admire and care about something or someone very much or too much
12 As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. 13Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord* has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. 14Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. 15And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful.
"So. There. Honestly, it doesn't matter who you are, or what you are. Common decency is the key here. This ONE verse, should pretty much get you through every single social issue. And, members of cults don't tend to be the nicest most accepting people. If you apply this to pretty much EVERYTHING, no matter what you are, you should be okay. I keep this where I can see it at work, actually. Some days, I need to see this."
I don't know. I don't know if I made a difference. I don't know if I got through to her. I don't know if she will always be Catholic, or, if she'll go off and do her own thing. I don't know, if I did or said the right thing. I don't know if I should even be teaching this class. I just don't know. But, that was the class yesterday.
Anyway, church was about the only thing we had going on all weekend, so, we took this very rare opportunity of a free weekend, and just relaxed at home. We came home, the kids disbanded for their various activities, friends came over to visit, they all raked leaves and played. I took Turbo for a long uphill walk. We are supposed to hike up two mountains in less than 3 weeks. I suppose one must make sure they aren't going to die in the process, before one makes a fool of oneself in public. Turbo and I made it up a 2 mile incline, and lived to tell about it.
With my children unleashed upon the neighborhood, things began to happen.
The girls wandered through the front door with a puppy. It was a sweet, cute, snugly little thing. The girls handed it to me, it breathed on my with it's amazing puppy breath, licked my face, and snuggled right in for a cuddle. It was hard, but, I handed it back, as Bearded Man shouted that there was no way we were getting ANOTHER dog. No. The girls spent quite some time begging, but, we sent it back.
The call then came from the puppy's owner. Would we like fish, instead? Someone had just dropped off 60 guppies...
Before I knew it, Lexi came bursting through the front door with a baggie full of fish. "And guess what?? They said that these kind of fish breed like CRAZY! There is seventeen of them here, but, we should have lots more soon!!!"
George's fish tank was grudgingly filled by Bearded Man, and the fish were let loose in the water. "I give it 3 weeks, before they are all dead." he predicted pessimistically.
"I think some of them look pregnant!!" Lexi announced excitedly.
Flashlight, the cat, was pretty excited, too.
Some time later, while Joe and George were out and about, they carted through the door a jukebox. A. Jukebox.
"IT WAS FREE, MOM! I HAVE A JUKEBOX!" Shouted Joe excitedly. "The owner said it works, too!"
The radio portion did. A very small portion lit up, and the CD portion is broken. Still. The sound quality for both the radio stations we get at our house, was excellent. They also brought home: Knee pads, a bicycle helmet and, dominoes.
This is what staying home gets you: 17 fish and a jukebox.
Quick update on the Family Room turned workout room.
I have used it exactly ONCE. Because, if I get up early, Turbo wants to walk. He will get under, in, over, on, and generally in the way of any working out or workout equipment. Trying to keep him out of the room results in his howling displeasure.
If I use it after work, during waking hours, the kids all want to workout, too. We have, essentially, the same problem as with the dog. Also, the dog is there doing everything he can to assist with workout failure.
After hours is Bearded Man's TV time. Working out is prohibited during TV time. If he decides to watch TV in the living room, he hates it, and, the TV keeps the kids up.
I have an entire gym in my family room. And I cannot use it. However, the kids do tend to use it. George has figured out every single dangerous thing that workout equipment can be utilized for. He loves it.
I am optimistic that it will be better used in the coming winter months, once the snow really hits. We'll see.
: a situation in which people admire and care about something or someone very much or too much
: a small group of very devoted supporters or fans
So. Sunday school started again. We now have 7th and 8th graders in our class. In addition to the same two as last year, we have 3 new students. This Sunday, one of our seasoned 8th graders meandered in - late - with a friend in tow. She plopped into her chair, looked at me challengingly, and announced "Tell me how this isn't a cult. This whole thing seems cultish, and I refuse to be part of a cult." with a smirk directed at her friend, who just held her breath waiting for my response.
Sunday school week two. Twenty one weeks to go. We talked about cults. We talked about Wacco, Texas, we talked about the West Borough Baptist Church . We talked about the qualities of good leaders "These "good leadership" qualities would also be pretty much what you would find in the leader of a cult..." piped in my 8th grade student. *Bangs head on white board*
I looked at this kid and went blank. WHAT do I tell this child, who is clearly challenging me - "give me a reason to believe any one thing you have to say" was the message I was getting. - I agreed. If Jesus tried any of the things he did way back when, today, he would end up in the loony bin, and would be mocked far and wide. How do I talk about leadership and acceptance and religion? All these kids were looking at me expectantly, the 8th grader was looking at me smugly, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. In my head, I recalled the 14 years we have waited, to be able to ship all 4 kids off to Sunday School, so we could have NINETY MINUTES of peace and quiet once a week, and go to breakfast. But, NO. I am dealing with this kid, who is going to be the reason I do shots before church until next May. Last week, she was so disruptive, we couldn't stay on track. This week: we are a cult.
This went on through the entire class. We did some deep deep talking. I felt maybe I was getting through to her. And then, I found my favorite bible verse. (Not going to lie. It's one of the few that I know, actually. But, I like it.) So, I whipped out my bible, and read it.
Colossians 3.12-15
12 As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. 13Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord* has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. 14Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. 15And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful.
"So. There. Honestly, it doesn't matter who you are, or what you are. Common decency is the key here. This ONE verse, should pretty much get you through every single social issue. And, members of cults don't tend to be the nicest most accepting people. If you apply this to pretty much EVERYTHING, no matter what you are, you should be okay. I keep this where I can see it at work, actually. Some days, I need to see this."
I don't know. I don't know if I made a difference. I don't know if I got through to her. I don't know if she will always be Catholic, or, if she'll go off and do her own thing. I don't know, if I did or said the right thing. I don't know if I should even be teaching this class. I just don't know. But, that was the class yesterday.
Anyway, church was about the only thing we had going on all weekend, so, we took this very rare opportunity of a free weekend, and just relaxed at home. We came home, the kids disbanded for their various activities, friends came over to visit, they all raked leaves and played. I took Turbo for a long uphill walk. We are supposed to hike up two mountains in less than 3 weeks. I suppose one must make sure they aren't going to die in the process, before one makes a fool of oneself in public. Turbo and I made it up a 2 mile incline, and lived to tell about it.
With my children unleashed upon the neighborhood, things began to happen.
The girls wandered through the front door with a puppy. It was a sweet, cute, snugly little thing. The girls handed it to me, it breathed on my with it's amazing puppy breath, licked my face, and snuggled right in for a cuddle. It was hard, but, I handed it back, as Bearded Man shouted that there was no way we were getting ANOTHER dog. No. The girls spent quite some time begging, but, we sent it back.
The call then came from the puppy's owner. Would we like fish, instead? Someone had just dropped off 60 guppies...
Before I knew it, Lexi came bursting through the front door with a baggie full of fish. "And guess what?? They said that these kind of fish breed like CRAZY! There is seventeen of them here, but, we should have lots more soon!!!"
George's fish tank was grudgingly filled by Bearded Man, and the fish were let loose in the water. "I give it 3 weeks, before they are all dead." he predicted pessimistically.
"I think some of them look pregnant!!" Lexi announced excitedly.
Flashlight, the cat, was pretty excited, too.
Some time later, while Joe and George were out and about, they carted through the door a jukebox. A. Jukebox.
"IT WAS FREE, MOM! I HAVE A JUKEBOX!" Shouted Joe excitedly. "The owner said it works, too!"
The radio portion did. A very small portion lit up, and the CD portion is broken. Still. The sound quality for both the radio stations we get at our house, was excellent. They also brought home: Knee pads, a bicycle helmet and, dominoes.
This is what staying home gets you: 17 fish and a jukebox.
Quick update on the Family Room turned workout room.
I have used it exactly ONCE. Because, if I get up early, Turbo wants to walk. He will get under, in, over, on, and generally in the way of any working out or workout equipment. Trying to keep him out of the room results in his howling displeasure.
If I use it after work, during waking hours, the kids all want to workout, too. We have, essentially, the same problem as with the dog. Also, the dog is there doing everything he can to assist with workout failure.
After hours is Bearded Man's TV time. Working out is prohibited during TV time. If he decides to watch TV in the living room, he hates it, and, the TV keeps the kids up.
I have an entire gym in my family room. And I cannot use it. However, the kids do tend to use it. George has figured out every single dangerous thing that workout equipment can be utilized for. He loves it.
I am optimistic that it will be better used in the coming winter months, once the snow really hits. We'll see.
Monday, September 14, 2015
Brain Massage
For Labor Day weekend, a trip to the Jersey Shore took place. The craziest thrown together last minute thing EVER. Full of women who completely did not know each other.
It was perfect.
It had been planned sort of jokingly at first. I had made a flippant comment to a colleague at another VA site, who has the same job I do, about what would happen if we all took off the same week and went on a cruise?
Which became that person, Karen, saying "Well, actually, I would be happy with a weekend at the Jersey Shore!"
Which became, "Oh! Wow! That's actually kinda do-able!"
Which became "Whose in?"
Which became myself, Karen, and her friend, JoAnn, whom I had never met, but was assured "She's a HOOT! You'll love her!"
Which became, asking my cousin Donna, whom I knew on Facebook, but had never actually MET, for hotel recommendations.
Which became an invite to stay at her house.
I didn't think it would really happen. I figured someone would pull out last minute, but, the Friday before Labor Day dawned, and my bags were packed. The plan was to work all day, after which everyone would meet me at work, and I would then drive us to New Jersey. The entire trip was an estimated 6 or so hours.
On the way, Karen and JoAnn said "Tell us about your cousin!"
"I haven't actually MET her...." was the response. Which generated slack jaws. "Karen! I am pretty sure I mentioned this... didn't I?"
The closer I drove to New Jersey, the bigger my doubts became. Who DOES this? Who accepts an invitation from someone they only know through Facebook, and then SHOWS UP with STRANGERS in the middle of the night?? WHAT was I THINKING? She must think we are CRAZY!
I don't think I could have been nearly as gracious, truthfully.
Anyhow, after spending the last two or so hours navigating some of the hardest roads I have ever driven, and in the dark, we arrived at approximately 10:45 pm.
We sat in the driveway. I think we may have whispered.
"NOW what?"
"I don't know."
"Are you SURE this is the right place?"
"It SAYS so, on the mailbox! I am PRETTY sure!"
"You really haven't met her before?"
"No...."
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
"I know! I will TEXT her! Tell her we're here!"
Within moments, out came my cousin, hugs all around, and everyone settled in as if we had all known each other since birth. It was just amazing, how we all just seemed to click together.
Following this, we proceeded to have what I think, was one of the best weekends ever. It really could not have been more perfect.
In the theme of family get togethers, this past weekend was my brother, Luke's 30th birthday. His wife, Meghan, had put together a big surprise party at her parent's home for him, and invited the entire Fisher clan (and all the mini clans we come with...) to the party, along with her entire clan. I am pretty sure Luke's dog, Millie, thought the party was for her, the entire time. No one had the heart to tell her it wasn't. She was a pretty happy dog.
Getting the Fisher crew together though, is always a loud and fun occasion. Somehow, without realizing it, we end up in "The Fisher Circle". Wherein, we all gather in a large circle, and unconsciously exclude the daylights out of anyone else. It always happens, and we have never been able to stop it. We don't seem to get terribly repentant about it, either. We always have the BEST time, and laugh the entire time. I think everyone NOT in the "Fisher Circle" thinks we're crazy, truth be told.
Anyhow, During circle time, it was mentioned that Kaila will be driving in less than two years. My brother Beau, (who is a high school teacher, a college professor, and driving instructor) announced he would be teaching Kaila to drive. It's a nice thought, but, he lives over an hour away from our home. I doubt this will actually happen.
To demonstrate what a good driving teacher he is, he mentioned "Timmy". Poor little Timmy. Evidently, Timmy is a fictional character, that he has used to scar his poor students for the rest of their driving years.
They apparently kill poor Timmy at least once every lesson. They not only kill poor Timmy, but, the issues Timmy's family has BECAUSE of it, are just gargantuan.
"Poor Timmy." He booms in his loud teacher voice (Who are we kidding. He's been loud since birth) "Timmy is just minding his business, walking along with his parents and his big sister, who is five, (Timmy is usually three) and they just had dinner. Only, Timmy is a busy little fella, and tends to not pay attention - because he's three... And, OH MY GOD!!!!! YOU JUST RAN PAST THAT WHITE LINE, AND THERE GOES TIMMY! Only, Timmy doesn't get killed by the car. No. Timmy ends up in a coma. His parents have to make the decision to pull the plug. It makes the news. The media camps outside the hospital and hate mail comes in. Timmy's parents can't take the pressure. They divorce. Mom becomes a crack whore and DIES. Dad is an alcoholic. And poor little Suzie. Timmy's sister. She feels so much guilt. She had been holding his hand, when he slipped away. She became a prostitute and now has STDs. All because YOU KILLED TIMMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" We all stood around in slack jawed silence. Including everyone outside the Fisher Circle. "Mom." whispers Kaila, "I think I want you to teach me to drive. I promise I won't kill Timmy."
I cannot help but feel there was probably a little relief when the Fishers left the premises. Doesn't matter. It's always rejuvenating when we have spent some time in the circle.
Anyhow, that's the excitement around here. One week ago, it was 90 degrees and my house was clean, and the kids rested. Then school started. It was 39 degrees this morning, the kids are tired, and my house is a mess. The Clothing that fit only a few weeks ago has mysteriously shrunk as of this morning, and my children all look like they are prepared for imminent flooding. Shopping is required in the considerably near future here...
I cannot figure how the home that we all now spend LESS time in, is MORE messy. Let me know if you have any theories on this.
Also, I need to mention for the world to know: I do not recall the last time I had an alcoholic drink. NOT because I had to quit, but, because I really haven't WANTED any. Honestly, I seem to have lost my taste for it anymore. This year alone, I have had hardly any.
That being said:
Driving the boys to Olean, to their Doctor checkups, I had a (rare) glass of Pepsi with me, as I didn't feel well. It was an attempt to settle my stomach. Joe: "Do you have alcohol in that?"
Driving home after grocery shopping with Kaila, we stopped at a drive thru and ordered French vanilla cappuccinos, with a shot of pumpkin spice flavoring. "Isn't she a little YOUNG to be having shots, Mom?" - also Joe.
Today, I had a patient who was seeing the cardiologist. The patient is an admitted heavy drinker. "Moriah, you need to hear this too. Maybe you don't know it already, no? I am going to talk about how many calories are in alcohol." WHAT?
So. While my son and society seem to think I am a lush. I am not, indeed a teetotaler, as imagined. I would sincerely appreciate a mug of hot green tea, with no sugar, or, maybe just ice water. If any of you happen to run into Joe, it may SEEM like I am this side of a 12 step program, but, I think he has guzzled more wine at Communion every week, than I have had alcohol all year. Just sayin.
It was perfect.
It had been planned sort of jokingly at first. I had made a flippant comment to a colleague at another VA site, who has the same job I do, about what would happen if we all took off the same week and went on a cruise?
Which became that person, Karen, saying "Well, actually, I would be happy with a weekend at the Jersey Shore!"
Which became, "Oh! Wow! That's actually kinda do-able!"
Which became "Whose in?"
Which became myself, Karen, and her friend, JoAnn, whom I had never met, but was assured "She's a HOOT! You'll love her!"
Which became, asking my cousin Donna, whom I knew on Facebook, but had never actually MET, for hotel recommendations.
Which became an invite to stay at her house.
I didn't think it would really happen. I figured someone would pull out last minute, but, the Friday before Labor Day dawned, and my bags were packed. The plan was to work all day, after which everyone would meet me at work, and I would then drive us to New Jersey. The entire trip was an estimated 6 or so hours.
On the way, Karen and JoAnn said "Tell us about your cousin!"
"I haven't actually MET her...." was the response. Which generated slack jaws. "Karen! I am pretty sure I mentioned this... didn't I?"
The closer I drove to New Jersey, the bigger my doubts became. Who DOES this? Who accepts an invitation from someone they only know through Facebook, and then SHOWS UP with STRANGERS in the middle of the night?? WHAT was I THINKING? She must think we are CRAZY!
I don't think I could have been nearly as gracious, truthfully.
Anyhow, after spending the last two or so hours navigating some of the hardest roads I have ever driven, and in the dark, we arrived at approximately 10:45 pm.
We sat in the driveway. I think we may have whispered.
"NOW what?"
"I don't know."
"Are you SURE this is the right place?"
"It SAYS so, on the mailbox! I am PRETTY sure!"
"You really haven't met her before?"
"No...."
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
"I know! I will TEXT her! Tell her we're here!"
Within moments, out came my cousin, hugs all around, and everyone settled in as if we had all known each other since birth. It was just amazing, how we all just seemed to click together.
Following this, we proceeded to have what I think, was one of the best weekends ever. It really could not have been more perfect.
In the theme of family get togethers, this past weekend was my brother, Luke's 30th birthday. His wife, Meghan, had put together a big surprise party at her parent's home for him, and invited the entire Fisher clan (and all the mini clans we come with...) to the party, along with her entire clan. I am pretty sure Luke's dog, Millie, thought the party was for her, the entire time. No one had the heart to tell her it wasn't. She was a pretty happy dog.
Getting the Fisher crew together though, is always a loud and fun occasion. Somehow, without realizing it, we end up in "The Fisher Circle". Wherein, we all gather in a large circle, and unconsciously exclude the daylights out of anyone else. It always happens, and we have never been able to stop it. We don't seem to get terribly repentant about it, either. We always have the BEST time, and laugh the entire time. I think everyone NOT in the "Fisher Circle" thinks we're crazy, truth be told.
Anyhow, During circle time, it was mentioned that Kaila will be driving in less than two years. My brother Beau, (who is a high school teacher, a college professor, and driving instructor) announced he would be teaching Kaila to drive. It's a nice thought, but, he lives over an hour away from our home. I doubt this will actually happen.
To demonstrate what a good driving teacher he is, he mentioned "Timmy". Poor little Timmy. Evidently, Timmy is a fictional character, that he has used to scar his poor students for the rest of their driving years.
They apparently kill poor Timmy at least once every lesson. They not only kill poor Timmy, but, the issues Timmy's family has BECAUSE of it, are just gargantuan.
"Poor Timmy." He booms in his loud teacher voice (Who are we kidding. He's been loud since birth) "Timmy is just minding his business, walking along with his parents and his big sister, who is five, (Timmy is usually three) and they just had dinner. Only, Timmy is a busy little fella, and tends to not pay attention - because he's three... And, OH MY GOD!!!!! YOU JUST RAN PAST THAT WHITE LINE, AND THERE GOES TIMMY! Only, Timmy doesn't get killed by the car. No. Timmy ends up in a coma. His parents have to make the decision to pull the plug. It makes the news. The media camps outside the hospital and hate mail comes in. Timmy's parents can't take the pressure. They divorce. Mom becomes a crack whore and DIES. Dad is an alcoholic. And poor little Suzie. Timmy's sister. She feels so much guilt. She had been holding his hand, when he slipped away. She became a prostitute and now has STDs. All because YOU KILLED TIMMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" We all stood around in slack jawed silence. Including everyone outside the Fisher Circle. "Mom." whispers Kaila, "I think I want you to teach me to drive. I promise I won't kill Timmy."
I cannot help but feel there was probably a little relief when the Fishers left the premises. Doesn't matter. It's always rejuvenating when we have spent some time in the circle.
Anyhow, that's the excitement around here. One week ago, it was 90 degrees and my house was clean, and the kids rested. Then school started. It was 39 degrees this morning, the kids are tired, and my house is a mess. The Clothing that fit only a few weeks ago has mysteriously shrunk as of this morning, and my children all look like they are prepared for imminent flooding. Shopping is required in the considerably near future here...
I cannot figure how the home that we all now spend LESS time in, is MORE messy. Let me know if you have any theories on this.
Also, I need to mention for the world to know: I do not recall the last time I had an alcoholic drink. NOT because I had to quit, but, because I really haven't WANTED any. Honestly, I seem to have lost my taste for it anymore. This year alone, I have had hardly any.
That being said:
Driving the boys to Olean, to their Doctor checkups, I had a (rare) glass of Pepsi with me, as I didn't feel well. It was an attempt to settle my stomach. Joe: "Do you have alcohol in that?"
Driving home after grocery shopping with Kaila, we stopped at a drive thru and ordered French vanilla cappuccinos, with a shot of pumpkin spice flavoring. "Isn't she a little YOUNG to be having shots, Mom?" - also Joe.
Today, I had a patient who was seeing the cardiologist. The patient is an admitted heavy drinker. "Moriah, you need to hear this too. Maybe you don't know it already, no? I am going to talk about how many calories are in alcohol." WHAT?
So. While my son and society seem to think I am a lush. I am not, indeed a teetotaler, as imagined. I would sincerely appreciate a mug of hot green tea, with no sugar, or, maybe just ice water. If any of you happen to run into Joe, it may SEEM like I am this side of a 12 step program, but, I think he has guzzled more wine at Communion every week, than I have had alcohol all year. Just sayin.
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
Craigslist
Listen. I realize I keep writing all these Blogs about all these races and all this exercise. I know I keep torturing myself and my friends and my family by dragging them along with me. For all intents and purposes, I "should" be a svelte smaller size and the envy of the neighbors.
I am none of the above.
It seems that, in order to actually get svelte, one must do more than think very strongly about it. One most do more than sign up to race a few miles a few times a year. Do more than write about it.
Anyhow, Things needed to be stepped up a notch. I have no time to go to a gym. I need to get the kids ready for school before I leave for work in the morning. Then dinner needs to be on the table after work. Then there is the nagging to complete homework and chores and the hauling of children to whatever they need to be hauled to. Also, I would kind of like to see my kids as much as possible. (Except this morning. This morning the arguing was terrible and I skipped out the door pretty quickly.)
Also, my kids. They need to move more. This summer was spent EXACTLY how I had hoped it would not be. In front of the TV/iPad/Kindle, while mom and dad worked all day. Except George, who cannot be still for any amount of time ever. And whose hair is this amazing sun bleached dark blond that actually looks almost white in places. George has spent the summer on his bike, at his friend's, or in his friend's pool. He has worn his old bike right out, and a new one needed to be found, to keep up with him.
The three older kids though. They. Did. Nothing. At all. And then there is the family room, where two of them hide out all day, getting dressed shortly before the parental return to home after work. No matter how much they are hollered at to get off the couch and get outside, back through the side entry into the family room they would sneak. And right back in front of the television. Or the iPad. (The iPad was actually tucked away most of the summer, but, when it was out, they were on it constantly.) Seriously. Something had to be done.
Why not turn the Family Room into a workout room? WHY do I keep getting these ideas that require more energy than I actually have??
It would solve a lot of problems, really, if, we threw away the falling apart sofa in the family room, as well as the falling apart recliner, and replaced it with workout equipment! Craigslist is a wonderful thing, where a person can find pretty much any item they need at reasonable prices.
Within minutes of my announcement that the Family Room was an issue and that changes needed to be made, Bearded Man had found a workout machine on Craigslist. It looked useful and in good shape and of reasonable size. It was approximately an hour and a half away from home, but, still do-able.
We made a trip of it. Bearded Man and I, along with the boys, climbed into the truck, and headed for Grand Island, near Niagara Falls. Where, we ended up at the home of a young man from England. Who was slightly taken aback when George marched up to him, stuck out his hand and said with great dignity "My name is George. Nice to meet you."
After approximately 2 seconds listening to the lovely English accent, I felt like the most backwoods bumpkin EVER. No one can make words sound as beautiful as an English person. (Side note, we have an accent???? While on vacation at Black Lake a few weeks ago, it was commented on quite a bit, that we have quite the accent, and it is difficult to understand us. Who knew! We have an accent!!! Wish I knew what it sounded like to other people.)
Down into the Englishman's basement we went. Where we came to a screeching halt in front of an enormous pile of metal. A very long, very wide, very intimidating, pile of metal. "Oh boy." I said. This was entirely more intimidating and large and more, than I had planned for. Curse me and my darn ideas!!!! I could have been home reading the new Nora Roberts book. But no. I am on the other end of the state, staring at an entire truckload of metal, listening to the boys argue, feeling like an uneducated hick, next to the wondrous English accent of this very nice young man, sweltering under punishing humid heat, and wondering if I could make enough money trading it to the scrapyard, to get a massage instead, while coming to my senses.
Anyhow, we loaded the beast onto the truck, Bearded Man tied the whole mess down, and we were off.
"Oh look, Mom" comments Joe, "That billboard says that 1 in 5 children go hungry."
"KNOCK IT OFF, JOSEPH. YOU are NOT hungry!!! YOU just refuse to eat anything we put in front of you! There is a DIFFERENCE!"
On that note, we did decide to stop and feed the boys. We were right near a Thai restaurant that I had visited once with some co workers, and had the most wonderful delicious dish called "Amazing Chicken". It was so amazing, that I have wanted to go back there ever since, just to try it again. It took some convincing, but, Bearded Man decided to bypass Arby's, and try out the Thai place.
I do not know who was more traumatized by the experience. Joe, for having been dragged completely out of every single comfort zone EVER, or, us, for having to listen to his commentary during the entire stay.
The Amazing Chicken continues to be delicious. However, I will probably never take a family member there again.
Once home, the hauling out of the family room began. Once the couch was out, and the machine in, the building began. Along with some creative language and some inventive phrases, and several irritated comments from Bearded Man.
Eventually it was together. And a offer of an exercise ball and an elliptical was accepted.
"Jasin, I agreed to an elliptical, too. This ratty old recliner is going to have to go. Look at it - it's dirty and disgusting and the springs are broke, and no one ever sits in it anyhow, so -"
"NO."
"What? Why?"
"The. Recliner. Stays."
"What? Why? It's a falling apart MESS!"
"I LIKE it."
"I never see you even sit in it! You fell asleep in it last week, but, I think you've sat in it approximately twice!"
"NO. I LIKE it, I sit in it all the time. The recliner stays."
"Jasin, seriously. It's awful! NOBODY even uses it!"
"Non negotiable."
So, the family room now has a behemoth workout thingy that does eight different things, and uses up considerable (okay, MOST) of the space, and was entirely more machine than I bargained for. It also has a falling apart recliner, a love seat, a weight bench and weight collection, and soon, the addition of an elliptical and an exercise ball.
When I left this morning, the children were all wedged into the love seat, arguing over the TV.
Mission: failure so far.
Also, I still have no energy to actually use any of it.
Craigslist has also been a goldmine for Legos lately. Recently I found the mother load of legos for sale on Craigslist, and, thinking Christmas, bought them on the spot. I drove an hour and 15 minutes to the address given, directly from work, with a nauseating migraine, to pick up these legos. They were safely in the back of the van, where I proceeded to forget about them, and totally forgot to remove them.
Fast forward to this past Saturday, two days after picking them up, and, as we prepared to leave for a wedding, George (who else?) found the legos. The boys now have enough legos to re-build the entire house. Merry Christmas, kids.
One last note. I am leaving for the Jersey Shore for Labor Day weekend, with a friend and her coworker. We are staying at my cousin's home. I need to hop on this exercise stuff and become a size 6 within the next four days. I have my doubts, but, a girl can dream, right? George is pretty sure I will be eaten by sharks. On that note, if not eaten by sharks this weekend, I will check in another time. Happy Labor Day!
I am none of the above.
It seems that, in order to actually get svelte, one must do more than think very strongly about it. One most do more than sign up to race a few miles a few times a year. Do more than write about it.
Anyhow, Things needed to be stepped up a notch. I have no time to go to a gym. I need to get the kids ready for school before I leave for work in the morning. Then dinner needs to be on the table after work. Then there is the nagging to complete homework and chores and the hauling of children to whatever they need to be hauled to. Also, I would kind of like to see my kids as much as possible. (Except this morning. This morning the arguing was terrible and I skipped out the door pretty quickly.)
Also, my kids. They need to move more. This summer was spent EXACTLY how I had hoped it would not be. In front of the TV/iPad/Kindle, while mom and dad worked all day. Except George, who cannot be still for any amount of time ever. And whose hair is this amazing sun bleached dark blond that actually looks almost white in places. George has spent the summer on his bike, at his friend's, or in his friend's pool. He has worn his old bike right out, and a new one needed to be found, to keep up with him.
The three older kids though. They. Did. Nothing. At all. And then there is the family room, where two of them hide out all day, getting dressed shortly before the parental return to home after work. No matter how much they are hollered at to get off the couch and get outside, back through the side entry into the family room they would sneak. And right back in front of the television. Or the iPad. (The iPad was actually tucked away most of the summer, but, when it was out, they were on it constantly.) Seriously. Something had to be done.
Why not turn the Family Room into a workout room? WHY do I keep getting these ideas that require more energy than I actually have??
It would solve a lot of problems, really, if, we threw away the falling apart sofa in the family room, as well as the falling apart recliner, and replaced it with workout equipment! Craigslist is a wonderful thing, where a person can find pretty much any item they need at reasonable prices.
Within minutes of my announcement that the Family Room was an issue and that changes needed to be made, Bearded Man had found a workout machine on Craigslist. It looked useful and in good shape and of reasonable size. It was approximately an hour and a half away from home, but, still do-able.
We made a trip of it. Bearded Man and I, along with the boys, climbed into the truck, and headed for Grand Island, near Niagara Falls. Where, we ended up at the home of a young man from England. Who was slightly taken aback when George marched up to him, stuck out his hand and said with great dignity "My name is George. Nice to meet you."
After approximately 2 seconds listening to the lovely English accent, I felt like the most backwoods bumpkin EVER. No one can make words sound as beautiful as an English person. (Side note, we have an accent???? While on vacation at Black Lake a few weeks ago, it was commented on quite a bit, that we have quite the accent, and it is difficult to understand us. Who knew! We have an accent!!! Wish I knew what it sounded like to other people.)
Down into the Englishman's basement we went. Where we came to a screeching halt in front of an enormous pile of metal. A very long, very wide, very intimidating, pile of metal. "Oh boy." I said. This was entirely more intimidating and large and more, than I had planned for. Curse me and my darn ideas!!!! I could have been home reading the new Nora Roberts book. But no. I am on the other end of the state, staring at an entire truckload of metal, listening to the boys argue, feeling like an uneducated hick, next to the wondrous English accent of this very nice young man, sweltering under punishing humid heat, and wondering if I could make enough money trading it to the scrapyard, to get a massage instead, while coming to my senses.
Anyhow, we loaded the beast onto the truck, Bearded Man tied the whole mess down, and we were off.
"Oh look, Mom" comments Joe, "That billboard says that 1 in 5 children go hungry."
"KNOCK IT OFF, JOSEPH. YOU are NOT hungry!!! YOU just refuse to eat anything we put in front of you! There is a DIFFERENCE!"
On that note, we did decide to stop and feed the boys. We were right near a Thai restaurant that I had visited once with some co workers, and had the most wonderful delicious dish called "Amazing Chicken". It was so amazing, that I have wanted to go back there ever since, just to try it again. It took some convincing, but, Bearded Man decided to bypass Arby's, and try out the Thai place.
I do not know who was more traumatized by the experience. Joe, for having been dragged completely out of every single comfort zone EVER, or, us, for having to listen to his commentary during the entire stay.
The Amazing Chicken continues to be delicious. However, I will probably never take a family member there again.
Once home, the hauling out of the family room began. Once the couch was out, and the machine in, the building began. Along with some creative language and some inventive phrases, and several irritated comments from Bearded Man.
Eventually it was together. And a offer of an exercise ball and an elliptical was accepted.
"Jasin, I agreed to an elliptical, too. This ratty old recliner is going to have to go. Look at it - it's dirty and disgusting and the springs are broke, and no one ever sits in it anyhow, so -"
"NO."
"What? Why?"
"The. Recliner. Stays."
"What? Why? It's a falling apart MESS!"
"I LIKE it."
"I never see you even sit in it! You fell asleep in it last week, but, I think you've sat in it approximately twice!"
"NO. I LIKE it, I sit in it all the time. The recliner stays."
"Jasin, seriously. It's awful! NOBODY even uses it!"
"Non negotiable."
So, the family room now has a behemoth workout thingy that does eight different things, and uses up considerable (okay, MOST) of the space, and was entirely more machine than I bargained for. It also has a falling apart recliner, a love seat, a weight bench and weight collection, and soon, the addition of an elliptical and an exercise ball.
When I left this morning, the children were all wedged into the love seat, arguing over the TV.
Mission: failure so far.
Also, I still have no energy to actually use any of it.
Craigslist has also been a goldmine for Legos lately. Recently I found the mother load of legos for sale on Craigslist, and, thinking Christmas, bought them on the spot. I drove an hour and 15 minutes to the address given, directly from work, with a nauseating migraine, to pick up these legos. They were safely in the back of the van, where I proceeded to forget about them, and totally forgot to remove them.
Fast forward to this past Saturday, two days after picking them up, and, as we prepared to leave for a wedding, George (who else?) found the legos. The boys now have enough legos to re-build the entire house. Merry Christmas, kids.
One last note. I am leaving for the Jersey Shore for Labor Day weekend, with a friend and her coworker. We are staying at my cousin's home. I need to hop on this exercise stuff and become a size 6 within the next four days. I have my doubts, but, a girl can dream, right? George is pretty sure I will be eaten by sharks. On that note, if not eaten by sharks this weekend, I will check in another time. Happy Labor Day!
Friday, August 21, 2015
The Dicks Take a Vacation
We took a family vacation this year.
The destination was recommended by a co worker, whose wife's family has been going to the same place for several decades now.
It was said to be a great family friendly place - with boat rentals!
I somehow booked a fishing trip.
Bearded Man was THRILLED.
Haha! Let's start at the beginning, I suppose. Cedar Grove, at Black Lake NY was highly recommended by a co worker. He stated his family has been going forever, and that they love it. This co worker, by the way, is NOT your Hunter/fisherman type. So, when I booked a cabin and a pontoon boat way back when snow was on the ground, I never gave it a thought.
Bearded Man packed his fishing stuff, and lots of poles, and I packed what I thought was an adequate amount of food, blankets, towels, clothes, and the kids, and we were off.
After a 4.5 hour drive, I discovered I am able to sync my phone to the sound system in my van, thank the Dear Lord, and play Pandora and also You Tube music requests. During which the kids were all completely quiet and content.
The campground was beautiful! It really was. Our place for the week was way up on a hill, overlooking the lake and a short walk from the boat. The kids picked places to sleep, we unpacked, and took the boat out.
It didn't take long to discover that:
I did not pack enough food. My kids became ravenous beasts and cleaned us all out
The nearest grocery store is 20 miles away
George's sandal and fishing pole broke after 1 day.
George did not have a warm enough blanket
It took three separate trips to the store 20 miles away to keep up.
Bearded Man was crazier than I had ever given him credit for.
There was one coin operated washer, and one coin operated drier. "It's like 'The Hunger Games' for grown ups, Mom!" commented Kaila.
On the last day at Black Lake, by the way, we discovered that a small general store less than a mile from the camp ground carried pretty much everything we had needed. Live and Learn.
Because Black Lake is primarily a fishing lake, it did not matter why we were on a boat. We would cruise along until Bearded Man would suddenly and without warning STOP the boat. Causing most of us to fall over, or off our seats.
This happened frequently and every single time we were on the boat. (Except for twice, when I begged to have a non fishing related boating trip.) Once stopped, we would sit on the boat for 20-30 minutes, while various family members whipped out fishing poles and caught nothing. Ever. We fished in deep water. We fished in shallow water. Swampy water, clear water, thick green water, sea weed water, shore water, rocky water, lily pad covered water, both ends AND the middle of the lake. While the family was together, no fish were ever caught. It did not make a difference. The boat would suddenly stop, we would fall over, and Bearded Man would say "DID YOU SEE HUGE FISH JUMP OUT OF THE WATER?! WE'RE GOING TO STOP HERE!"
Or, if I was driving, we would have to putt along, so he could "troll for fish". By day 3 or 4 the novelty had worn off, and the urge to shove Bearded Man and all the fishing gear off the boat was great.
Most of the other people we met at the camp ground had been coming for decades. A lot of them had brought their fishing boats, and soon Bearded Man was invited to go fishing with the senior campers. Including a Tournament Bass Fisherman. When he wasn't fishing with the regulars, he was fishing off the dock, off the boat while it was docked, or, out in the boat fishing.
There was even a small building dedicated to cleaning and cutting up fish. It was every sportsman's paradise.
There were lots of kids at the campground, and there was generally a large pack of them swarming the place. They would all hang out on the small beach, in the rec hall, or at the playground. My kids completely loved it.
And the rainbows! Nearly every day, there were multiple rainbows! It was just amazing.
While in the area, we headed up to the Thousand Islands, with Bearded Man chaffing about the missed fishing opportunities. While there, we took a ferry to Boldt Castile. It was the highlight of my trip. There are no words for the complete splendor and awe of that place.
One evening, I did go with another camper, (who, I learned lives right around the corner from where I grew up!), and we went to the winery right down the road from the camp ground. Where we discovered peach wine slushies. It made me want to go find a slushy machine immediately, and drink them every day at home. Peach slushies. They are wonderful.
When we came back from the campground, we discovered that our husbands were kicked back and the kids had formed a large and slightly scary group. I actually commented that they were sort of all "Children of the Corn"
It turns out that, had it BEEN Children of the Corn, George would have been Malachi, the lead rotten child. My son, while the youngest kid there, was also nicknamed "The Legend" and was willing to do pretty much anything to hang on to his status. He had to be separated from the group, finally, and kept on a pretty tight leash. When he was GOOD, though, he was the sweetest kid ever.
Everyone we met at the camp was just great. We truly met a lot of wonderful people, and had a good time. Bearded Man even caught a few fish. (One of them was across the lake, in the dark, at night, in choppy waters, while out with someone else, on the other guy's boat, which then decided not to start. They were stranded out there, but thrilled they caught a keeper fish.)
We ended up booking the same thing next year, and the kids can't wait to go back.
I also discovered that:
Dawn
Morning
mid-morning
noon
afternoon
early evening
late evening
dark
rain
dusk
the moon
are all the best times to fish. It was very educational.
During the drive home, which seemed twice as long as the drive to the camp ground, Huckleberry's sound system was once again synced to my phone and utilized for song requests.
Ever the downer here, I discovered that I don't like Brantley Gilbert OR the Crazy Frog. Or, truth be told, Taylor Swift. Hours of them were amusing on the trip TO vacation, but, hours of them on the way HOME from vacation made me want to scream.
Also, while on vacation, as I was unpacking things, I happened to glance up into the bathroom mirror. Where I discovered I had bags under my eyes. Bags large enough to need to be scanned and checked for airline purposes. When did THOSE happen? Bags and dark circles. I had no idea how horrendous good lighting could be.
So, once home, I Googled home remedies for bags under the eyes. And discovered that: It is nearly inevitable with old age. Also: they are fat deposits. One can get them surgically removed by a handy dandy cosmetic doctor.
Like my fat needed more places to manifest itself. Or I needed more signs of aging.
This weekend, Bearded Man and I are headed for our first 5k together. We'll be doing the "Inflatable 5k" with a course full of inflated obstacles. I figure if we can do this together, then, hiking up two mountains should be nothing. Right?
Also, I have decided to start training to actually RUN an entire 5k. I need to find one that I can work toward. The couch to 5k app is downloaded, the arm band and ear buds for my phone are purchased. The urge to get out of bed an hour early is the only thing missing. Unfortunately, there is no "energy app".
Joe has informed me that, according to Science, one can go an entire week without eating, and not die. Things are getting dire, because dinners have been awful this week, and he is already on day three. I suppose I should conclude this post, so I can figure out dinner this evening, before my 10 year old martyr wastes away.
Till next time!
The destination was recommended by a co worker, whose wife's family has been going to the same place for several decades now.
It was said to be a great family friendly place - with boat rentals!
I somehow booked a fishing trip.
Bearded Man was THRILLED.
Haha! Let's start at the beginning, I suppose. Cedar Grove, at Black Lake NY was highly recommended by a co worker. He stated his family has been going forever, and that they love it. This co worker, by the way, is NOT your Hunter/fisherman type. So, when I booked a cabin and a pontoon boat way back when snow was on the ground, I never gave it a thought.
Bearded Man packed his fishing stuff, and lots of poles, and I packed what I thought was an adequate amount of food, blankets, towels, clothes, and the kids, and we were off.
After a 4.5 hour drive, I discovered I am able to sync my phone to the sound system in my van, thank the Dear Lord, and play Pandora and also You Tube music requests. During which the kids were all completely quiet and content.
The campground was beautiful! It really was. Our place for the week was way up on a hill, overlooking the lake and a short walk from the boat. The kids picked places to sleep, we unpacked, and took the boat out.
It didn't take long to discover that:
I did not pack enough food. My kids became ravenous beasts and cleaned us all out
The nearest grocery store is 20 miles away
George's sandal and fishing pole broke after 1 day.
George did not have a warm enough blanket
It took three separate trips to the store 20 miles away to keep up.
Bearded Man was crazier than I had ever given him credit for.
There was one coin operated washer, and one coin operated drier. "It's like 'The Hunger Games' for grown ups, Mom!" commented Kaila.
On the last day at Black Lake, by the way, we discovered that a small general store less than a mile from the camp ground carried pretty much everything we had needed. Live and Learn.
Because Black Lake is primarily a fishing lake, it did not matter why we were on a boat. We would cruise along until Bearded Man would suddenly and without warning STOP the boat. Causing most of us to fall over, or off our seats.
This happened frequently and every single time we were on the boat. (Except for twice, when I begged to have a non fishing related boating trip.) Once stopped, we would sit on the boat for 20-30 minutes, while various family members whipped out fishing poles and caught nothing. Ever. We fished in deep water. We fished in shallow water. Swampy water, clear water, thick green water, sea weed water, shore water, rocky water, lily pad covered water, both ends AND the middle of the lake. While the family was together, no fish were ever caught. It did not make a difference. The boat would suddenly stop, we would fall over, and Bearded Man would say "DID YOU SEE HUGE FISH JUMP OUT OF THE WATER?! WE'RE GOING TO STOP HERE!"
Or, if I was driving, we would have to putt along, so he could "troll for fish". By day 3 or 4 the novelty had worn off, and the urge to shove Bearded Man and all the fishing gear off the boat was great.
Most of the other people we met at the camp ground had been coming for decades. A lot of them had brought their fishing boats, and soon Bearded Man was invited to go fishing with the senior campers. Including a Tournament Bass Fisherman. When he wasn't fishing with the regulars, he was fishing off the dock, off the boat while it was docked, or, out in the boat fishing.
There was even a small building dedicated to cleaning and cutting up fish. It was every sportsman's paradise.
There were lots of kids at the campground, and there was generally a large pack of them swarming the place. They would all hang out on the small beach, in the rec hall, or at the playground. My kids completely loved it.
And the rainbows! Nearly every day, there were multiple rainbows! It was just amazing.
While in the area, we headed up to the Thousand Islands, with Bearded Man chaffing about the missed fishing opportunities. While there, we took a ferry to Boldt Castile. It was the highlight of my trip. There are no words for the complete splendor and awe of that place.
One evening, I did go with another camper, (who, I learned lives right around the corner from where I grew up!), and we went to the winery right down the road from the camp ground. Where we discovered peach wine slushies. It made me want to go find a slushy machine immediately, and drink them every day at home. Peach slushies. They are wonderful.
When we came back from the campground, we discovered that our husbands were kicked back and the kids had formed a large and slightly scary group. I actually commented that they were sort of all "Children of the Corn"
It turns out that, had it BEEN Children of the Corn, George would have been Malachi, the lead rotten child. My son, while the youngest kid there, was also nicknamed "The Legend" and was willing to do pretty much anything to hang on to his status. He had to be separated from the group, finally, and kept on a pretty tight leash. When he was GOOD, though, he was the sweetest kid ever.
Everyone we met at the camp was just great. We truly met a lot of wonderful people, and had a good time. Bearded Man even caught a few fish. (One of them was across the lake, in the dark, at night, in choppy waters, while out with someone else, on the other guy's boat, which then decided not to start. They were stranded out there, but thrilled they caught a keeper fish.)
We ended up booking the same thing next year, and the kids can't wait to go back.
I also discovered that:
Dawn
Morning
mid-morning
noon
afternoon
early evening
late evening
dark
rain
dusk
the moon
are all the best times to fish. It was very educational.
During the drive home, which seemed twice as long as the drive to the camp ground, Huckleberry's sound system was once again synced to my phone and utilized for song requests.
Ever the downer here, I discovered that I don't like Brantley Gilbert OR the Crazy Frog. Or, truth be told, Taylor Swift. Hours of them were amusing on the trip TO vacation, but, hours of them on the way HOME from vacation made me want to scream.
Also, while on vacation, as I was unpacking things, I happened to glance up into the bathroom mirror. Where I discovered I had bags under my eyes. Bags large enough to need to be scanned and checked for airline purposes. When did THOSE happen? Bags and dark circles. I had no idea how horrendous good lighting could be.
So, once home, I Googled home remedies for bags under the eyes. And discovered that: It is nearly inevitable with old age. Also: they are fat deposits. One can get them surgically removed by a handy dandy cosmetic doctor.
Like my fat needed more places to manifest itself. Or I needed more signs of aging.
This weekend, Bearded Man and I are headed for our first 5k together. We'll be doing the "Inflatable 5k" with a course full of inflated obstacles. I figure if we can do this together, then, hiking up two mountains should be nothing. Right?
Also, I have decided to start training to actually RUN an entire 5k. I need to find one that I can work toward. The couch to 5k app is downloaded, the arm band and ear buds for my phone are purchased. The urge to get out of bed an hour early is the only thing missing. Unfortunately, there is no "energy app".
Joe has informed me that, according to Science, one can go an entire week without eating, and not die. Things are getting dire, because dinners have been awful this week, and he is already on day three. I suppose I should conclude this post, so I can figure out dinner this evening, before my 10 year old martyr wastes away.
Till next time!
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