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!
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
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.
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