That's a Lot of Mrs. Fishers!

     When last we left our writer, she was headed to her brother's wedding. My brother is now happily married (seriously. The pictures I've seen so far from the wedding show him smiling more than any other pictures that I have ever seen of him. Either I haven't seen enough pictures of my brother to make an educated decision, or, he really hates having them taken. Anyhow. He looked pretty happy in the wedding pics I did see.)
     There are now Three, soon to be four Mrs. Fishers in the family. My new sister in law - who has been a sister in law for as long as I've known her, only now it's official - prefers that she be referred to as "Mrs. Ben Fisher" because, just plain "Mrs. Fisher" reminds her of my mother. I did happen to be part of two separate conversations this weekend, involving Bearded Man and/or various sisters in law, asking each other what one should call the Mrs. Fisher Matriarch. None of them apparently feel comfortable addressing my mother as "Mom", "Carol" or, "Mrs. Fisher". Bearded Man shrugged and said he hasn't addressed her as anything in the 21 years that we've been together. The general consensus is that they all just establish eye contact and begin talking when it is generally established who they are talking to. It's a system that's apparently worked for 21 years, so, I think that was the agreed upon solution.


    
     I should mention that my half purple hair is subtle enough that very few co workers and none of my patients have noticed it. I still love it! Except; I am not a hairdresser. I happened to look in the mirror at work this morning and realized I had completely nailed the "Mom from A Christmas Story" look perfectly. I think I achieved it by not blow drying my hair this morning, which is in direct contradiction to my promise to do whatever my sister told me to do with my hair so that she will continue to do it for me. I think I am fairly safe admitting that here, because she does not have time in her life to read my blog.
     To my brother's wedding, I wore a perfectly nice Mom appropriate dress, and my hair had that "after working all day I had literally five minutes to get ready to go" look to it, and I wore comfortable sensible flats. Everybody's picture of "Mom." My older sister made a very brief appearance, and, at pushing 50, she is tall, has a fabulous figure and has hair that does NOT indicate "Cookie baking fluffy harried mom" I saw her for literally less than one minute, but, I saw enough to see that she wore jeans and a tank top and (I think) her trademark stilettos.
     My little sister rocked a pretty maxi dress, and, even after working all day, had fabulous hair and also looked gorgeous. Ah well. I have the "Mom Look" nailed I suppose. By the way: the bride was stunning as well. I took one look at her and my brother and promptly burst into happy tears. Compounded when I saw the airplane charm attached to my brother's boutonniere in honor of our Dad, and then again when he mentioned that he was wearing one of our Dad's ties. Oh my goodness. If I am this much of a mess when my brother gets married, I can only imagine the mess I will be if my children ever trip down the aisle. Less than two years before Kaila graduates. I imagine I will make a weepy spectacle out of myself then, too.


     The day after the wedding, we headed to a Fourth of July party at the home of some friends, who also happened to be George's Baseball Coaches this year. I was hesitant to go, as, I had been dealing with an overtired George all day, who was bouncing off the walls in hyper overtired state all day. But, we went anyway, and, as soon as we arrived, I knew it would be okay. George's baseball coach is literally a grown up version of George, and, their home was every little boy's paradise. They had a creek to play in, and a tree house and a tire swing and water balloons and football and lots of space to run. It was such a good time, that they can't wait to go back! Also, it was the anniversary of my Dad's passing, so, it was really nice to have the distraction.


     After another late night, we were all up early, as, we were headed off to the Bridal Shower for the future Mrs. Malachi Fisher, held up near Buffalo. Bearded Man had to work, so, I had to bring George along with us. Joe was thankful for the opportunity to stay home and read uninterrupted. Overtired George and my girls in tow - we headed out. It was a beautiful champagne brunch, and there were beautiful happy people everywhere. And; George. He enthusiastically picked up a pen, and decided - unprompted - to fill out a "How Well Do You Know the Bride and Groom?" questionnaire.   "What is the bride's favorite food? Subs!" he wrote excitedly. "What is the groom's favorite food? Pizza!" "Where did they meet? IN A BAR!" "Where did the groom propose? IN A BAR!" He scribbled. I was laughing. Until someone read those questions out loud later in the proceedings, and, George happily called out his answers. I literally had my face in my hands, as my  kid's answers rang loud and clear throughout the room, and I was unable to shush him from where I was sitting. YIKES!


     Update on the resident learning driver: She has not really gone job searching, because she is in  hot demand as a babysitter all over town. There was even a house cleaning job last week. I wish I could say she has diligently saved up her money and that her beloved car is on the road - but - she hasn't and it isn't.
     She does drive at every opportunity, and is improving every day. While she does have to wait six months before she's allowed to take her road test, I have told her that I won't allow it until she can competently drive: Back roads, gravel roads, snow covered roads, rain slicked roads, grooved pavement, the NYS thruway, the city of Buffalo, roundabouts, parking lots, curvy roads and nighttime roads. There is no point in having a driver's license, if you aren't able to drive in cities or in snow. We practice when we can.


     Update on the surgery kids: they had their post op check up this week, and are both fine. The appointment was really just a formality. I had to make George stop dancing and sit in the exam chair, so that the ENT specialist could check out his mouth.


     Update on the resident nerdling: Joe spent most of my brother's wedding tucked into whatever quiet corners he could find, buried in a book. He will be wrapping up his participation in the local library's Lego Club this morning and then hitting the computers to learn more about the recent science article that talked about a recent successful teleportation into space. His future goals are to get a Doctorate in Nuclear Science and work at a large lab located in Berkley California. He begs me frequently to please take him to Berkley, so he can check things out.
     Also, he signed up to run Cross Country this fall in school. He has been advised to start running now, so he is ready then. I won't let him back out, because, sometimes, you need to put the books down and get some fresh air. I think it will be good for him, so, he is going to stick to it. If I was a good mother, I would head to the school track with him, and run too. But, the title of this blog clearly indicates that I am fully aware that I am not perfect, so, mostly I just nag him a lot. I may be convinced to possibly do a nice sedate stroll around the track while he runs, though.


     Whew! It was a busy weekend. Till next time!

A Trip To My Sister's Salon

     One of my brothers is getting married today! The plan is to call home at 4pm, tell the kids they had better be dressed appropriately and ready to go, zoom home from work, throw on a dress, try not to weep at my reflection, slap on some make up, fluff up the hair, and be out the door and on the road again within five minutes.


     In preparation for the wedding, and also because I was due, and I am tired of the glittering gray hairs, I headed to my sister's salon last night to get my hair done. "What are you going to get done?" asked an innocent co worker "Whatever she does to it." I replied. "I have absolutely no say in the matter."
     Daughters in tow, as, Kaila needed her hair done too, we headed out. Things are never dull at my sister's salon. Ever. Last night was no exception. We arrived to see a young lady in the chair, finishing up a cut and color. Chattering away, my sister snipped with her scissors, and, finishing, yelled "Get outta my chair!" to the poor thing, who stood up, announced she loved it, paid my sister lots of money, and scooted out. Next up was Kaila. While Kaila was getting her hair done, another customer walked in. My sister finished brushing color onto Kaila's hair, and yelled "Get outta my chair! YOU! Get in the chair!" to Kaila and the next guy. The poor man hopped into the chair and asked to have his almost non existent hair cut and washed. "You want a perm with all that hair, or what?" she demanded. The tough body builder/farmer meekly announced she could do whatever she wanted with his hair. So, she did the "usual" and yelled "Get outta my chair!" as soon as he was done. He gave her money and a hug, and headed on his way, announcing how much he loved her. Kaila was back in the chair to have her color washed out, when the next guy came in. "Are you Donna?" "No. I am Brianna. Who are you?" "I was told this was the best place in the whole entire world, to come for a haircut." "What do you want?" "Well, I want a buzz cut, but the wife wants it trimmed. To look exactly the same as it does now." "Wait. Isn't your wife the one that's always in jail and kind of terrifying??" "Yeah. But she tries to make it out for the kids' birthdays." "Awright. I will cut it the way you want and just lock the door when you're done, so she can't come in and get me." she decided. "Kaila! Get outta my chair!" she yelled, whipping the cape off my kid, "Get in the chair!" she yelled to the man standing there. "I forgot it was my anniversary today." he announced. "Ohhhhh. Not good." said my sister, shaking her head and snipping away. "I know. But, you can't blame me - she's usually in jail for these things!" "What about the holidays?" "Jail." "Even Christmas??" "Yeah. But, I think she was out for Thanksgiving last year. And she always makes sure she's out for birthdays." "Gotcha."
     My girls sat in absolute fascination, as the conversation continued. Finishing up, my sister whipped the cape off of the man and yelled "Get outta my chair!" to the man. He looked at himself in the mirror and announced "I look damn good! I would do me in an alley!" gave her a hug and money, and announced he would be back for all future haircuts. "Ri! Get in the chair!" she yelled at me. "I know what I am going to do to your hair. It will be amazing. But, you don't deserve it." she glared at me.
     "Oh, please! I promise, I will do whatever you ask!" I begged
     "I don't see why. Just scrunching it for two seconds is not going to do anything. I don't know why I bother. You don't use products, you don't blow dry it. You don't deserve it."
     "I will do whatever you tell me to,"
     "You will get what I give you!"
And she began to paint things onto my hair. While we are at the salon, we continued to talk about the phones listening to us. Every so often, I would hear "Let's see what the phone thinks!" and, sure enough, there was always something pertinent to what we were discussing. "Look! It's an ad for Captain Morgan! My phone gets me, Bri" I said, showing her my phone.
     Eventually another customer came in, and I was screamed at to get outta the chair. The next customer was an old family friend for as long as I can remember. When it was his turn to get outta the chair, my sister was given money, a hug, and, yet another customer announced his love for my sister, and happily asked that we all meet up again in 4-6 weeks to re-convene. "RI! Get back in the chair!" yelled my sister, and I hopped back in.
     Eventually, my hair was finished, and I was told to get out of the chair, and my girls were put to work helping her close down the salon for the night. I was fluffing my hair in the mirror, and checking it all out. "Thanks Bri! It looks great! I love it!"
     "Oh. By the way - it's purple in the back." she said casually as she walked by.
      "WHAT? Give me a mirror!" and, low and behold - I have decidedly purple hair under layers of blonde highlights and brown. It manages to look wonderful, while still keeping me professional. Just incredible.
   
     My sister is like that Soup Nazi on Seinfeld. She has absolutely thrown people out of her salon. She has a nearly cult like following, and, her customers adore her like no other. It's amazing. As incredible as that girl is with hair, I am not sure why she isn't wealthy and commanding a top salary. Most of her customers hug her before they leave, even her pediatric customers.


     Anyhow. If nothing else - my hair will look fabulous for my brother's wedding tonight. I also need to tell my mother she looks fabulous - as - she popped into the salon while we were there, and I said "Have you tried on your dress yet?" I MEANT to say "Does it look fabulous, (or awesome)?" but, couldn't pick an adjective, and  it came out "Does it look awful?" to my mother's horror, and my sister's howls of laughter. It doesn't matter if my poor mother wears tonight - I have to assure her it's amazing.


     Have a great weekend!

My Phone Thinks My Kids Need Behavior Training

     The Fourth of July Holiday was pretty low key. It was sort of not optional, because, as soon as I put my van into "park" in my driveway after work Monday, it completely died. Like: Dead.
     The resident mechanic narrowed it down to either an alternator or a battery, and, first thing in the morning on the 4th of July, headed to a near-ish parts store. And came home with an alternator and a battery. After a morning full of inventive language, every single word of which George happily stood next to him and lapped up ("MOM! You should HEAR the words Dad is saying!!!!!" "Yeah. I imagine they are going to get worse, kiddo.") the van was eventually put back together and running again.
     I was sitting in it, re-programing my clock, when it began to make terrible noises. The language surpassed pg-13 and headed right into R  and Mature rated, as Bearded Man hauled out a mauled belt that had just disintegrated. Which entailed tearing the van apart again, and heading 20 miles away to the parts store again.


     Anyhow. By the time the van was fixed, we really weren't in the mood to go anywhere, and, you know what? It feels darn nice to just stay home with no place to go, so, we were just going to sit at home and enjoy the relative break. Until, of course, we wandered around the corner later, to watch some fireworks at a friend's house. But otherwise, we were staying put.
     It was an added bonus, that my sister and niece wandered over for a few hours. Happily, my sister and I sat out on the patio, feet kicked up, and chatted for a few hours.
     We talked about everything, like we normally do. The excitement of one of our brother's weddings this approaching Friday, Back to school shopping, pets, kids, housework, our jobs. You know. Just chit chat. All the while, our cell phones were casually thrown on the table at our elbows.
     A few different times, we were talking about our kids. Getting them to do chores, or, sibling arguments, different funny stories. George was playing nearby, and I had to keep telling him to stop tormenting his brother, stop throwing the ball into the neighbor's yard, no,  you may not use the dog's run as a zip line. You know. George stuff.


     Eventually, my sister and niece went home, and we began to make dinner. I noticed my phone was blinking, and picked it up to check a Facebook message. As soon as I opened Facebook, I got the creeps, but laughed outright. I called my sister:


     "Bri! I need to tell you a story."


     "Okay."


     "A few weeks ago, I was talking to one of our brothers, and he was telling me his phone is creeping him out. He told me that smart phones listen to you, as well as track  you. If you happen to be inside Kohl's - bam! There are Kohl's ads on your social media. If you talk about something - what do you know - that same thing just happens to appear in your social media ads - or, really, whatever app you might have that has ads. Or even if you look up a news website."


     "What??? That is SO creepy!"


     "He said he started paying attention, because, he was talking about something recently at his job, and, low and behold, there was ads for a subject that normally wouldn't be there, and he started watching what he said around his phone, to test it out. Sure enough - there were ads that connected to recent conversations! So, I said, 'you know, you are right?? Just the other day, I was talking to Bearded Man about a TV show he was watching, and, the next day, I was really surprised to see a blip on either Facebook or MSN, regarding exactly what I had said! The wording was verbatim to what we had said the night before!!!' So, we started testing it out, and,  Kaila and I were noticing the same things!"


     "Wow." said my sister "You know, now that you say that, I have noticed the same stuff, but, not really made the connection before."


     "Well, anyhow, you know how we were talking about our kids, and I was trying to keep George in line while you were here? And all the conversations about when the kids argue or trying to get them to do chores sometimes?"


     "Yeah?"


     "I am going to send you a screen shot, okay?"

     "Okay."


And I sent her a screen shot of an ad for this:

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That Eliminates Your Child’s Defiant Behavior

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Picking up the conversation again, we were both laughing but we were both a little shaken by this. "We talked about Vodka and Captain Morgan, Ri. Why didn't we get ads for those?" Pointed out my sister.


     "I know, right? The kids aren't going to change, so, why not really help us out, and give us alcohol coupons?"


     "We talked about jobs and bills and being stay at home moms - why didn't it pick up on how to be a stay at home mom?"


     "Nope. Apparently our phones think our kids are a real problem."


Since that conversation, I've noticed ads for new cars. (Apparently my phone has had enough of my van's nonsense, and is recommending a nice SUV) and, ads for new laptops, after we had a conversation about whether we should let Joe use his savings to buy his own computer.


  
Anyhow, feeling a little foolish, I left my phone at home later that evening, when we wandered around the block to a friend's home for fireworks. I explained what had happened, and she nodded and told me I was not a person who sounded like they wore aluminum foil on her head. She described the same experience that a friend of hers had with a smart TV. He tested it in front of other people, and talked about spaghetti. The TV played a commercial for spaghetti sauce almost immediately. He mentioned a specific brand of soap, and, the TV played a commercial for that brand of soap.


     I don't know. It's almost fascinating, to see what my online ads are for anymore. I went through and turned off every app permission I could possible turn off, and still have a working phone, but, the ads continue to happen.


     Anyone else out there notice this? Creepy? Or, a sign of the times? Big Brother, or, over reacting conspiracy theorist? Crazy, or, "Now that you say that... you're right???" Normally I am the first person to roll my eyes at things like this, but, seriously. Pay attention! Maybe you will notice it too!

    

We Shall Now Celebrate "Removal Day"

     The kids survived their surgeries! It was rough for the first week or so, but, Lexi and George both seem to be improving daily.
     Thankfully I had Kaila with me to help out. She was able to stay with Lexi while I waited for George's surgery, so I could be there when he was done. George was getting wheeled up to recovery as Lexi was getting wheeled down. We met in the hallway and switched kids, which worked out perfectly. It was after Lexi's surgery, when Kaila and I were marveling over Lexi's green/yellow palor and utter stillness, that I let George play with my phone again. You would think I would have learned, but, clearly I have not. He managed to put through an entire Amazon order, pay for it with my account, and confirm it after sending, before I knew what he was doing.
     His order for a gold fidget spinner was canceled immediately, by the way.


     It was so nice, actually, getting to stay at home with my kids for a week. The envy I felt for stay at home moms was huge, as I got ready to come back to work the first day. Which was compounded by several sobbing phone calls from George, begging me to come home and be with him. And lots of "I neeeeeeeed you!!!!" "I need you here to snuggle with me!" "You need to come home right now!!!!!!!!" Which, of course, ramped the "mom guilt" up considerably. So, I gave the kids my coveted password to my Notebook. That same password has been happily repeated by George to anyone who would care to listen, and, which will be changed as soon as possible. The Notebook distraction seemed to work long enough to get George through the worst of me going back to work during painful recovery.


     While schedules seem to have settled down around here, we are still pretty busy overall. Yesterday, Bearded Man and I went grocery shopping and stood in the grocery store, mentally calculating the cost of strawberries there vs picking them in one of the local fields. "Jasin. I think it's actually less expensive to get them here. We could buy two flats of strawberries here for the same cost as one flat that we pick."
     "So. You want me to put them in the buggy?"
     "I don't know. We are going to be so busy - I don't know when I would make jam."
     "So. No strawberries, then?"
     "Well. You really can't beat the cost... and they won't last long here at this price...."
     "So, put them in the buggy?"
     "Well. It really does come down to time. When am I going to make jam?"
     "So. No berries, then?"
     "I hate to pass them up..."
     "So, berries?"
     "No time!"
     "No berries?"
     "I really should get them though. I love homemade jam! I would have to get lots of sugar, and lids for the cans. And pectin, which costs a small fortune, in order to make huge batches of jam..."
     "Are we getting berries or not??"
     "I am going to really regret walking away from these berries."
     "Make. Up. Your. Mind."
     "Jeez, Jasin! No need to get grouchy about it!"
     "Why don't you think about it, and we can come back if you want them?"
     "Okay."


     I didn't get the berries, and I am still regretting it. So, to try and squelch the guilt from that, I took the three older kids to go picking peas yesterday. We love fresh peas so much. Especially Joe, who could eat them all day every day. But, just peas that we've picked. Never store bought. Because, he's Joe. That's why.
     We picked 26.5 pounds of peas yesterday. And, conversations went all over the place, as we bent over the plants.
     "Mom. You know, we don't have 'birthdays', right?" remarked one child
     "What?"
     "We weren't really birthed."
     "I happened to be there, as you were all ripped screaming from the womb, kiddo."
     "Exactly. We were removed, not birthed, because we were all C-sections."
     "True. I suppose you were removed. Forcibly, at that."
     "So, we should celebrate 'Removal Day' instead."
     "I would write that on a cake with zero hesitation."
     "It just sounds so harsh! Like, 'Hey, this baby has to go, so, we are going to hack it out of my body'"
     "Like a growth." I agreed.
     "I like the sound of "Removal Day" piped up another kid. "It just sounds cooler"
     "It kinda does, really."
     "But it also sounds like we were an unwanted tumor, too." argued another one
    "You do realize that, if your were birthed the normal way, you were going to come out anyway, right?"
     "It's like you didn't want us in your body anymore. We were unwanted."
     "Seriously? I love all my little tumors so much, and am happy you were all born/removed safely. Which was the point  of the C-sections."
     "You're kind of crazy, mom."


     Anyhow, we talked and we laughed and we picked peas. And then we went  home and sat outside for a few hours, shelling all the peas, and listening to music. Kaila offered to DJ the proceedings with her speaker and a playlist. Every so often I would hear "Oh! That's a bad one. Profanity and stuff. You can't listen to that one." as she skipped songs.
     "You know, Kaila. If you can't listen to it in front of your mother - you probably shouldn't be listening to it. Just saying."
     "I know. They just sound different when you hear them in front of your parents..."
     "I felt the same way the first time I watched "Grease" with my kids. I still cringe thinking about it."


     Overall, it was a good day. Next up: Wedding stuff! Two of my little brothers are getting married (I say little, but, really, while I am older, they tower over me at obscene heights.) One is getting married this weekend, followed by a bridal shower for my youngest brother's fiancé. All of this will be a little bitter sweet, as, we acknowledge the one year anniversary of our Dad's passing, all on the same weekend. I am so glad that we will be together this weekend, and celebrating the happy. I think he would have appreciated that.


     Anyhow, these blogs are choppily written in 2-5 minute segments around breaks at work; that being said, I realize they are often crazy and riddled with mistakes that I cringe reading when I look at them later. And, since break time is once again over - I need to close it out and hope for the best once again.
     Have a great 4th of July!
    


  

Not Sure How George Knows What Hellfire Is

     Tomorrow is Surgery Day for Lexi and George. Everyone is remarkably calm about this. I think I might not be as calm as I thought, because, last night I dreamt that I arrived at the place the surgery would take place, calmly sat in the waiting room, and didn't realize until we were called back, that I had forgotten the kids.
     Mostly, the kids are excited about the large amount of popsicles in the freezer, and the obscene amount of jello and pudding waiting to be made. They really can't wait until after their surgery. I haven't the heart to tell them that there's a good chance that they won't want to eat anything.


     Our schedules are finally winding down though, which is a blessing of untold proportions. It must have really hit us all yesterday finally, because we all spent the day mostly sleeping, or drowsily stumbling from couch to patio chair to porch chair, to doze some more. Honestly, I could have slept non stop all day, and all night too.
     As such, I threw on comfy albeit "not to be worn outside of the house" clothes, and, in the less than 10 minutes I spent outside of the house, I managed to run into half the people I know in town. Which is how those sorts of  outfits work.
     I also ignored the massive amount of overdue housework and my van in desperate need of a good cleaning, because, I truthfully could barely move, I was so tired. It isn't like the mess going to go anywhere. So, when a friend of one of the kids wandered over, I apologized for the state of my house. "Oh. Doesn't it always look like this?" the little darling responded a little tartly. And I told her it was our dinner time, and she should probably go home now.


     George wasn't quite sure what to do with this down time. To come to a screeching stop after 2 months of constant "on the go" was a little bit of an adjustment for him. He pounced on Lexi, who was lying on the couch, reading a book and licking some candy thing she'd bought. "Lexi, can I have some?"
 "No."
"You have hellfire in your heart." she was vehemently told.


     George managed to get out of the house for a few hours. The Cub Scouts hosted a Father's Day Chicken BBQ at the local fire hall that he had to help out with.
I happened to drive past it, as it was winding down, and, there, in the front lawn of the fire hall on Main Street, right near the side walk, was George, channeling his inner Elvis, and dancing. So, he managed to occupy himself in the end.


     As I get through one last work day before the kids' surgeries, I did make a quick call home, to inform the girls that some serious housework needed to be done. It was reported  that they would try to get to it, but, they had decided to do fabulous make up, wear fancy dresses, make tea, and watch a movie. It was the least they could do, since Lexi will be going under the knife tomorrow. It was also confirmed that Lexi is, indeed, allowed to eat. Kaila was ready to fast right along with her sister, if Lexi was forbidden from eating until after her surgery tomorrow. The girls were assured that everyone was allowed to eat until midnight tonight, to their great relief.


     The resident new driver continues to drive whenever possible. Except for the chipmunk on her first day, there have been no more casualties so far. I had her drive me to a coffee shop about 20 miles from home last night, as, I needed gift cards. I made the mistake of allowing Kaila to order a drink, and then reconsidered when I remembered she was driving. So, we tooled around the corner to my sister's house, so she didn't have to drink and drive. A phone call with Lexi had me explaining this, but, it turned in to "Kaila and Mom are at Aunt Bri's because Kaila was drinking and driving." My children seemed to accept this, and, when we arrived home, resignedly asked Kaila what she had been drinking, that she was in bad enough shape to not be able to drive. I was also lectured soundly for my irresponsibility. No one seemed to be surprised at the assumption that I had taken their 16 year old sister out for a few drinks. I swear I rarely drink, and Kaila never has, so, I am not sure why my kids were so quick to condemn here, but, I can assure all; she literally drank an Oreo iced cappuccino. For the record and all.


     Wedding season is upon us! Two of my brothers are getting married soon! I had George with me when I recently went Bridal Shower Shopping for one of the upcoming weddings. George located blue tooth speakers, and began dancing in the aisles of Bed Bath and Beyond. He begged me to buy that for my brother and his wife to be, but, I told him it wasn't on their list. "Grown ups are dumb." was the response.
    Ah well.


     Wish us luck tomorrow, and in the coming week for fast healing for my poor kids!


    




 
    

George Goes to the Doctor

     In the general chaos of life around here lately, we've been also gearing up for two surgeries stuck right in the middle of things. (While insane schedules continue to spiral out of control around us in the process.)
     Lexi and George will both be heading into the local outpatient surgery center next week to have various things removed. Tonsils for George, as, he continues to wake up with breathing issues and laryngospasms, and, tonsils and adenoids for Lexi, as we prepare for approximately two million dollars worth of orthodontia treatment. The other day, I left work early, picked George up from school, Lexi up from home, and headed right back in to Olean for their pre-op appointment. As soon as we walked in,  George zeroed in on a very very tiny dwarf woman (Is that PC? I said "Oriental" the other day and was met with gasps of "You can't SAY that!!!!!" And, I honestly was all "I can't?" "NO! Because that's offensive, because rugs are oriental, too!" "What?") anyhow, there was a very tiny woman in the waiting room. George didn't comment on this, but, did ask to play on my phone. (I recently read an article condemning parents who let their kids play on their phones in waiting rooms. Shut up. These are usually re-posted by people who have no children.) Anyhow, George was playing with my phone while we waited. Eventually, he lost interest in my phone, and began to look around. He still did not mention the tiny woman sitting in the waiting room, to my never ending relief. He watched a doctor through a window, and announced loudly that "The doctor is in there just playing on his phone. That is unprofessional!" to the waiting room in general. It was a long wait. Eventually, a very small man came out of an exam room, and George perked up. Mentally, I begged him to not comment. Please do not comment, I prayed silently, watching him out of the corner of my eye. The tiny man checked out, and then assisted the tiny woman and her not so tiny purse out of her chair, and they walked out. "Mom!" whispered George "Those were some very little people!" I watched the rest of the waiting people strain to hear what he was saying, after they had been observing him for the last half hour, they were all probably pretty sure it wouldn't be dull. "That's because God only lets people grow till they're perfect!" I whispered back with sudden inspiration. "So, do you think I will stop growing pretty soon, then?" asked George.


     Eventually we were brought back to the exam room. Where George continued to be George. The pre-op person came in just as I burst out "WHAT??!!!" as George had just finished telling me he has been going to the boys room at school and using water to give himself a Mohawk. He also requested a tattoo - again.
     The specialist looked at George and said "Oh, honey, you better be very sure of what sort of tattoo you get, and you should really think it over before you decide. I had a tattoo when I was married to one of my husbands. We belonged to a motorcycle gang, and, my husband died. After he died, the gang told me either I have the tattoo removed, or, they would cut it off my body. So, I was forced to have it removed. You know what it feels like, when you fall and scrape your knee? Well, that's how they remove tattoos - one layer of skin at a time. Scraping the skin layer by layer. It was so painful! But, I had to have it done, or they would have come after me and removed it in a way worse way! So, really think about it before you commit to one!" she said to my 7 year old "Okay, now, I need to look in your mouth, open wide!" Which was a useless request, because, at that point, all of our mouths were open very wide.
     Anyhow, when all was said and done, both of the kids were cleared for surgery next week, and we hustled home to get Joe ready for his baseball game.
     It wasn't until after the kids finally went to bed for the night, that I happened to notice that George had done more than play motorcycle games on my phone. There were lots of silly faced selfies, a picture of the tiny woman sitting in the waiting room (The embarrassment at this is unbelievable) and, a video of himself using the bathroom (taken from the chest-up) while he talked to the phone in running commentary.
 
     Before the kids went to bed that  night, Lexi handed me one of the last assignments she had done before school ended for the year. It was an "article" written by herself, but about herself, so, in the third person. It described Lexi's home life, friends, hobbies... It concluded with: "...she also wants to become a wife, in a mansion, with a butler, and a limo.... she wants to live in New York City and celebrate life.... she has very reasonable hopes and dreams." she told me that her teacher laughed outright when she read it, and gave her a "100" on the spot.
     Joe read it this morning impassively and remarked "She does realize that she could possibly have all that when she's about 70, after working her butt off her whole life, right?"
     I don't know about that. As flamboyant as Lexi is, she is also pretty smart, and, I think capable of whatever she wants to do. This week, she was inducted into the National Junior Honor Society. Lexi being Lexi of course, wore a floor length long sleeved white gown with blue flowers on it, her hair in an up-do complete with sparkling headband tiara, and sparkly silver high heels. She pulled it off beautifully. Surrounded by other girls wearing pretty summer dresses, Lexi stood there in 93 degree weather wearing that long sleeved floor length gown as if she was a Disney Princess. No one expects any differently from her.
 
     Kaila has a car! Kaila was pretty excited about her car, too. Until she realized that it has to sit in the driveway until she can afford to license, register, and insure it. It may also need a new battery, an oil change and a brake line replaced. (All of which the Bearded Man can do.)
     With a car, comes great financial responsibility. So, in the interest of teaching our kid such responsibility, and, to foster appreciation for something she has to pay for herself, we have advised her to go get a job. The job hunt began yesterday. She went to one place, was told they only hire people who are older than 18, and came home again. Today, she has assured us she intends to really hit the pavement and put in applications locally. I have been informed that she is too young to be "adulting", and that she isn't finished "teening" yet. It was pointed out that, if she wanted to be adult enough to own a car, then, she needed to get her teen tush out the door and locate employment. Until then, we will continue to hope that the local code enforcer does not ticket us for an unregistered vehicle in the driveway. Which I suspect is bound to happen pretty much at any moment now.


     I feel like there is so much more happening - and there probably is - but, honestly, I can't keep track of things anymore. We are hoping that with baseball and school winding down within the next week, things will settle down a little, and life will get back to it's usual more manageable pace.


    


    


    


    

We Have a Teen Driver in the House!

    The whirlwind craziness of our schedules has reached fever pitch at our house. I will be so happy when school is out and baseball wraps up. We are all ready for a break. As soon as I have a moment, and I can wrangle my kids all to one spot, there needs to be a "Come To Jesus" chat with my kids regarding chores. This morning, as I ran out the door, I hollered for the girls to come down stairs. "Mom! I am in the middle of contouring my face!" wailed Kaila dramatically.
     "Seriously. George's baseball uniform is in the washer. He has a game tonight. Make sure the laundry is in the dryer before  you all leave for school! PLEASE!!!!! And, seriously - pick up this damn house!!!"
     "Fine. Flip laundry." and, back up the stairs they sailed.


     In a two second flash, I looked around the house, and just couldn't deal with the mess. I haven't been home in days, nor am I forecasted to be home for any appreciable amount of time in the near future.


     "Mom. You cannot curse at the house, by calling it a 'damn house' " Joe piped up. "It is a nice home and a shelter for your family."


     "UGH!" I said, and left for work. Only to be called two minutes later to come back home, because Joe's shoes were in my van.


     Comments from my children regarding the current chaos range as such:



- Someday, your house will be clean and everything will be perfect, but we will all be moved out and you will be sad.


- A messy house is just a lived in home!


- Dad doesn't clean anything or do housework, and I am a man too, so, I am not, either.


- I DID sweep the floor! Why are you accusing me of not?


- I shouldn't have to do the dishes because

• Am exhausted
• It's my birthday
• I wasn't home last night
• I don't feel good
• I have to be somewhere in an hour
• My head is pounding
• I think I might throw up
• I always have to do everything!!!
• I forgot I have homework
• I am so tired. Please don't make me
• This is slave labor
• I really think I am probably dying.
• I didn't eat that dinner, so I shouldn't have to wash the dishes from it

-I am not cleaning my room because it's all his/her mess


- I always have to be the one to pick up! Someone else should do it


- You are always telling us to get outside and play in the fresh air, so, I will just be outside


- I know it's clean the house day, but, Dad is taking us fishing


- out and out sobbing.


I don't even know anymore. And, of course, in this Social Media driven world - there are oh! So many perfect Mamas out there, who manage to feed their children only the healthiest foods, work out, keep their houses clean, look perfect every day, and post amazing pics of their successful lives as the perfect wives/mothers/housekeepers/working women while fitting in fun activities with their kids in their spare time. I have no idea what the secret to this perfection is. I can only imagine there's probably sorcery involved. It's really the only answer I can come up with. Either way, I cannot come even a little bit close to those expectations.


     Anyhow. My house is a mess, and I don't have the time to clean it in the near future. Tomorrow, on my normal "clean the house day" Kaila has her required 5 hour driving course. After a whirlwind week of celebrating Kaila's Sweet 16, she was able to take and pass her Learner's Permit Driving Test, and is now begging to drive every time we go someplace. And every time I think I have two seconds to sit down. And, pretty much every time I get out of my vehicle after work. Her first day on the roads was pretty scary, but, I thought I remained overall calm as we hurtled around the back roads near our house for an  hour. I would calmly say "Kaila. Honey. Stay on the road. Kaila. You are getting too close to the edge. Kaila. Ease it back over. Honey, you really need to just get back on the road. If you go off the road and you're going too fast, you are going to get into an accident. Kaila. Get. On. The. Road. KAILA! I mean, Kaila. Honey. You're doing great. Just, you know. Get on the road. Keep it on the road. Ease it over."


     "I need music to concentrate!"


     "Really, you should keep your hands on the wheel and concentrate."


     "This isn't dance music. I can't dance to this."


     "You shouldn't be dancing while driving anyway. Please get back on the road"


     "AWWW! Look at that cute dog over there!!!!"
 
     "DON'T look at ANY dogs unless they are going to run in front of  you, and please make sure you are not driving off the road. Like, right now. Because, you aren't on the road."


     "OOOOHHHHH NOOOOOO!!!!! I RAN OVER A CHIPMONK! It's my first day driving and I have already started slaughtering poor innocent animals!"


     "Kaila. I am so sorry. But, please, pull back over to your left, and stay off the side of the road."


     "Another dog! He's so cute!"


     "Please look at the road and not dogs."


     "You're lookin a little tense over there, Doll Face. Are you tense?"


     "Of course not!" (Clutching the arm rest and the door handle desperately while leaning to the left as if I could make the van stay on the road that way) "You are doing a terrific job! Really!"


     I staggered out of my van with rubbery shaking legs and the insane urge to vomit, but, we made it back home in one piece. I left shortly after that to catch part of George's baseball game. As I stepped out of my van at the baseball field, a coach from another team happened to walk by. "You okay?" he asked in concern, "My daughter got her Learner's Permit today. We just got back from her first time out with me. I am feeling sort of nauseous."
     "Hahaha! Well. At least your hair is still red, and not all gray from it."
     "It probably is under whatever color my sister uses."
     "Good Luck!"


Anyhow, days two, three and four were much more successful, and, Kaila seems to really have a knack for it, so, I anticipate she will do just fine. She has a car already, and all the money for the car saved up - she just needs to hand it over, and the car is hers. But, she needs to pay for the registration and insurance, so, she has been advised to hit pavement and get a job. Applications to area businesses will be filled out in the fairly near future, I think. I am not sure how I ended up with a 16 year old who is driving, owns a car and will be getting a job all of a sudden. Wasn't she just a toddler yesterday, and pedaling her tricycle?? It's crazy how fast time flies.
  
     My kids are right, you know. Some day, my house will be clean, because everyone will be moved out, and I will be so  sad.


  Ah well. For all of you mamas out there that aren't perfect either, I hope you know you are in good company here!