Dear Friends & Family,
This year I will not be sending out a Christmas card or letter.
No, none of us has become hideously disfigured making us a photographic nightmare.
No, nothing horrible or shameful has happened in our lives that we are hiding.
Yes, we have done and accomplished things professionally, musically, and academically...but we are not going brag. (My daughter's marching band went to the Competetive Marching Band State Finals this year...little brag)
We, (and by "we" I mean, "me", Allie) have decided to not go nutty this holiday season. Let us be honest, there are a lot of details that go into the holidays. Let's be even more honest and admit most of those details get placed upon moms. That is right, the majority of the frenzy is placed upon the ladies. Or at least that is how I see (and feel) it.
This is my act of rebellion. (I need to get out more, or at least read a book about how to be properly rebellious)
I am taking a page from Queen Elsa's book and "Letting It Go". (Yes, I saw FROZEN a couple times this year).
I love my friends & family.
I wish everyone well.
I will not be sitting up until 2am addressing envelopes to prove my love. Trust me. I still love and care for you, whether or not the postperson drops a card & letter in your mailbox.
The only thing I was going to miss was writing the letter. Lucky for me, I have a blog. So I can write and send this to whomever likes to read it. AND I can be editorially sarcastic and not overly sentimental & sweet. (We all know I struggle with sweetness)
Take some time during this bustling time of year to enjoy your friends, family, and sanity. Pick what you love to do, and do it with joy. And leave the tedious stuff off your list.
Happy Holidays!
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Monday, September 22, 2014
An Arguement for Human Cloning
This past weekend was packed full of activities for our family. It is nice to be busy, but it is not great to have to chose who is going to what events. Especially when it is choosing between two really fun and meaningful events. This is why human cloning really needs to happen. (Human cloning does not need to happen for meetings or appointments, just for fun stuff). This past weekend was my daughter's first marching band competition of the season. It was also my adorable niece's 3rd birthday (She lives 3 hours away with my fabulous sister & charming brother-in-law. They are some of my favorite people of all time.) I am not being even slightly dramatic when I say it was a "Sophie's Choice" moment trying to decide what to do. Once again the "divide & conquer" strategy had to be employed. I went with my son to the birthday party. My husband went with my daughter to the marching band competition. And we all reconnected Sunday afternoon. We shared all the funny and silly things that happened at each of the events.
I would like to say this was just perfect, and we were all thrilled. The truth is we all enjoyed our weekend activities, but we all lost out on being together as a family. If we each had a clone, we could have done it all, TOGETHER. All of us could have arrived at the birthday party and laughed at the antics of a three year old, sang songs with her, and enjoyed the family fun. AND...All of us could have gone to the marching competition and watch the band take first place in there division. We would not have to divide & conquer, we could clone & go.
I am currently ignoring the downside of having a clone (i.e. having to clean up after myself and my clone. My clone borrowing my shoes, when my daughter already does...And what if her clone borrows my shoes too??? Oh the humanity!!!) There would probably be more problems caused by having a spare husband, son, daughter, and self. It would probably end poorly. However, maybe for one weekend I would not feel so out of the loop on one side of my life, and yet so thrilled that I got to have a sing-along with my niece & son. I want it all. (and I kind of want a clone too)
I would like to say this was just perfect, and we were all thrilled. The truth is we all enjoyed our weekend activities, but we all lost out on being together as a family. If we each had a clone, we could have done it all, TOGETHER. All of us could have arrived at the birthday party and laughed at the antics of a three year old, sang songs with her, and enjoyed the family fun. AND...All of us could have gone to the marching competition and watch the band take first place in there division. We would not have to divide & conquer, we could clone & go.
I am currently ignoring the downside of having a clone (i.e. having to clean up after myself and my clone. My clone borrowing my shoes, when my daughter already does...And what if her clone borrows my shoes too??? Oh the humanity!!!) There would probably be more problems caused by having a spare husband, son, daughter, and self. It would probably end poorly. However, maybe for one weekend I would not feel so out of the loop on one side of my life, and yet so thrilled that I got to have a sing-along with my niece & son. I want it all. (and I kind of want a clone too)
Friday, June 13, 2014
Walking on the Wildside
We had a deer in our fenced, suburban backyard this morning. It was the strangest thing that has happened all week month. I am not completely surprised that the deer found its way into our yard. Deer are good jumpers. I also saw a deer wandering the neighborhood last week. It was walking in the street (which I did think was odd. Deer should not walk on pavement). Anyway, at 6:15am I went to let Ninja (the greyhound) outside and she immediately took off toward the pine tree. Any other day, a rabbit springs out from under the tree, the dog chases the rabbit around the yard, snatches the rabbit in her mouth, snaps its neck, drops the rabbit, and proceeds to go potty before returning to the house for her breakfast of kibble. Honestly, this is what happens. I pick up and dispose of dead rabbits on the regular. I used to get upset and plead with Ninja to not chase and kill rabbits. First of all, dogs are a lot of great things, but reasonable listeners...not a strength. If it moves, Ninja will chase it. So I let her follow her natural urge to kill at the expense of the rabbit population, which seems to be doing well in spite of Ninja's frequent reduction efforts.
Now the deer, which is considerably larger that Ninja, was a different story. Yes, she chased it. However, the deer stopped. Ninja did not. She plowed into the side of the deer. This scared my sweet little rabbit murderess. So much that she returned to the house, not stopping to potty. Nope, she ran into the house, and curled up into a dog ball and did not move for 15 minutes. She who kills rabbits on the regular, was reduced to a quivering dog ball by a deer. So much for being the apex predator of the backyard. It seem now the local hoofed herbivores own the place.
Not being one to over react, I called 911 and clearly said, "I am not sure if this qualifies as a real emergency".
The dispatcher did not even ask me anything, she just said, "I am transferring you to the non-emergency line."
It would have been nice if she could have helped me sort it out, just a little. I had a traumatized dog in my house, and a deer in my fenced in backyard. That felt like an emergency to me. If not a full blown emergency, it is at least an extreme oddity for this suburban community. None the less, I was transferred to a desk police officer. I explained my extraordinary circumstances. He was unimpressed. Or should I say the tone in his voice said he was unimpressed. Honestly, I am not sure what is going on in this town that makes deer hanging out in backyards seem "normal". It is not. I live a well-populated, developed neighborhood. The extent of creatures, up until one week ago (the initial deer sighting) are as follows: birds, squirrels, chipmunks, skunks, rabbits, occasional ducks & Canadian geese, toads, snakes, and bugs. Some evidence of raccoons has been noted, but I have never actually seen the offending raccoon, it could just be some over zealous skunks. Deer, no. Not normal. Very out of the ordinary. However the local law enforcement, unimpressed.
Here is how the call went down:
(I was standing on my deck staring at the deer the entire call. Why? I am not completely sure.)
Officer: Police. How can I help?
Me: There is a deer in my fenced in backyard. It has terrified my dog. How can get it out?
Officer: Is the deer alive.
Me: Very much so.
Officer: Is the deer injured? Does it appear it has been struck by a car?
Me: Not at all. It seems quite healthy.
Officer: Well, then it will jump the fence and leave when it feels like it.
Me: My dog is terrified.
Officer: Ma'am, keep the dog in the house until the deer exits your yard.
Me: That is all???
Officer: Yes. Have a good day.
Me: Uhhh. Thanks? Good-bye.
Now I can not be sure what types of calls that the local fuzz generally receive, but clearly wildlife emergencies are not cause for great alarm. Perhaps he wakes up to herds of deer in his yard. I have never experienced such a thing in the metro area. Who knows, maybe my slightly panicked call this morning is now station house fodder. Maybe I am the crazy lady that called before 7am with a non-emergency emergency. I honestly do not care. I find the cavalier attitude towards large woodland creatures in fenced backyards disturbing. And the lack of caring toward my traumatized dog? Well that is just plain insensitive.
Here is to living in the Wild West(ern) Suburbs!
Note: The deer jumped into the neighbors yard after I started taking pictures. I was hoping it would neatly eat the grass over there to a respectable length, and perhaps trim up around the trees and fence line. That did not happen.
Now the deer, which is considerably larger that Ninja, was a different story. Yes, she chased it. However, the deer stopped. Ninja did not. She plowed into the side of the deer. This scared my sweet little rabbit murderess. So much that she returned to the house, not stopping to potty. Nope, she ran into the house, and curled up into a dog ball and did not move for 15 minutes. She who kills rabbits on the regular, was reduced to a quivering dog ball by a deer. So much for being the apex predator of the backyard. It seem now the local hoofed herbivores own the place.
Not being one to over react, I called 911 and clearly said, "I am not sure if this qualifies as a real emergency".
The dispatcher did not even ask me anything, she just said, "I am transferring you to the non-emergency line."
It would have been nice if she could have helped me sort it out, just a little. I had a traumatized dog in my house, and a deer in my fenced in backyard. That felt like an emergency to me. If not a full blown emergency, it is at least an extreme oddity for this suburban community. None the less, I was transferred to a desk police officer. I explained my extraordinary circumstances. He was unimpressed. Or should I say the tone in his voice said he was unimpressed. Honestly, I am not sure what is going on in this town that makes deer hanging out in backyards seem "normal". It is not. I live a well-populated, developed neighborhood. The extent of creatures, up until one week ago (the initial deer sighting) are as follows: birds, squirrels, chipmunks, skunks, rabbits, occasional ducks & Canadian geese, toads, snakes, and bugs. Some evidence of raccoons has been noted, but I have never actually seen the offending raccoon, it could just be some over zealous skunks. Deer, no. Not normal. Very out of the ordinary. However the local law enforcement, unimpressed.
Here is how the call went down:
(I was standing on my deck staring at the deer the entire call. Why? I am not completely sure.)
Officer: Police. How can I help?
Me: There is a deer in my fenced in backyard. It has terrified my dog. How can get it out?
Officer: Is the deer alive.
Me: Very much so.
Officer: Is the deer injured? Does it appear it has been struck by a car?
Me: Not at all. It seems quite healthy.
Officer: Well, then it will jump the fence and leave when it feels like it.
Me: My dog is terrified.
Officer: Ma'am, keep the dog in the house until the deer exits your yard.
Me: That is all???
Officer: Yes. Have a good day.
Me: Uhhh. Thanks? Good-bye.
Now I can not be sure what types of calls that the local fuzz generally receive, but clearly wildlife emergencies are not cause for great alarm. Perhaps he wakes up to herds of deer in his yard. I have never experienced such a thing in the metro area. Who knows, maybe my slightly panicked call this morning is now station house fodder. Maybe I am the crazy lady that called before 7am with a non-emergency emergency. I honestly do not care. I find the cavalier attitude towards large woodland creatures in fenced backyards disturbing. And the lack of caring toward my traumatized dog? Well that is just plain insensitive.
Here is to living in the Wild West(ern) Suburbs!
Note: The deer jumped into the neighbors yard after I started taking pictures. I was hoping it would neatly eat the grass over there to a respectable length, and perhaps trim up around the trees and fence line. That did not happen.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Pop Quiz
Confession: I can not resist the urge to take an online quiz. I do not know why, I just can not. If someone posts a Buzzfeed or Zimbo quiz about pretty much anything on the facebook news feed ..I will take it. These quizzes can really tell you a lot about yourself. Note: Surveys & questionnaires sent by my kids' schools, my bank, and other places go unanswered until the third reminder (or until hell freezes over) before I might complete and return. I have priorities.
Here is what I have learned about myself over the past few months:
Where I should live; French Polynesia, London, or Wisconsin. Yup, so many similarities between those places. I am literally all over the map on where I should live. I am staying put until at least a common climate theme emerges.
What color am I? Pink. Apparently "pink" best describes my personality. I can agree if it is hot pink. If it is pale pink, probably not.
My superpower is SUPER SMARTS. Agreed. Enough said about that.
Tina Fey would portray me in a movie about my life. I love Tina Fey, but honestly, I am pretty sure she would (and should) turn down a role portraying a blogging, coffee swilling, car pool driving, soccer mom, who attends football games only to watch the marching band at half-time. I am not saying I am not interesting. I am saying it would not translate to the big screen, or the small screen, or even a pod-cast. I consider my life to be part performance art and part circus (minus the clowns). You have to live this to love it.
Characters (these are my favorite type of quizzes to take)
I am Yoda from Star Wars. (awesome)
I am the Count from Sesame Street (1...1 fabulous result!)
I am Roz from Monsters Inc. (she is fabulous)
I am Belle from Beauty and the Beast. (I like to read too)
I am Derek Zoolander. (This result thrilled me to no end. I love Zoolander. I would totally get in gas fight, if gas was not $3.80 a gallon)
I am Jules from Pulp Fiction (from the What Quentin Tarantino Bad Ass Are You?) (amazing)
I am the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz (I love shiny things!!!)
Fictitious Places
If I were at Hogwarts, I would be placed in Hufflepuff. (meh)
If I were in the really glum and factioned Chicago of Divergent, I would be in the Candor faction. (I knew I was not Dauntless (snakes, clowns, birds...the fears are plentiful) or Abnegation (I think of myself often, and actually find selflessness close to impossible unless it is for my family). I do however suffer from the the blessing/curse of saying what I am thinking. When people say, "Be honest", nine times out of ten, they do not mean it. Trust me, most people want sunshine blown up their ass. I am not a very good sunshine blower. On the record, I do not want live in the Chicago of Divergent, it is just too grim.
My favorite fictional place the quiz has deemed livable for me is Stars Hollow. SQUEAK! If you are out of the loop, this is the setting for Gilmore Girls. One of my very favorite shows of all time. I will watch this on NetFlix anytime. The characters, the quaint town, the witty banter, and fast talking...perfection. I could live in Stars Hollow. Everyone was a little neurotic, but in an adorable way. This is my utopia.
Self-discovery 7-10 questions at a time. That is the beauty of the online quiz. Thank you online quiz makers. You are doing noble work. Keep 'em coming!
Here is what I have learned about myself over the past few months:
Where I should live; French Polynesia, London, or Wisconsin. Yup, so many similarities between those places. I am literally all over the map on where I should live. I am staying put until at least a common climate theme emerges.
What color am I? Pink. Apparently "pink" best describes my personality. I can agree if it is hot pink. If it is pale pink, probably not.
My superpower is SUPER SMARTS. Agreed. Enough said about that.
Tina Fey would portray me in a movie about my life. I love Tina Fey, but honestly, I am pretty sure she would (and should) turn down a role portraying a blogging, coffee swilling, car pool driving, soccer mom, who attends football games only to watch the marching band at half-time. I am not saying I am not interesting. I am saying it would not translate to the big screen, or the small screen, or even a pod-cast. I consider my life to be part performance art and part circus (minus the clowns). You have to live this to love it.
Characters (these are my favorite type of quizzes to take)
I am Yoda from Star Wars. (awesome)
I am the Count from Sesame Street (1...1 fabulous result!)
I am Roz from Monsters Inc. (she is fabulous)
I am Belle from Beauty and the Beast. (I like to read too)
I am Derek Zoolander. (This result thrilled me to no end. I love Zoolander. I would totally get in gas fight, if gas was not $3.80 a gallon)
I am Jules from Pulp Fiction (from the What Quentin Tarantino Bad Ass Are You?) (amazing)
I am the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz (I love shiny things!!!)
Fictitious Places
If I were at Hogwarts, I would be placed in Hufflepuff. (meh)
If I were in the really glum and factioned Chicago of Divergent, I would be in the Candor faction. (I knew I was not Dauntless (snakes, clowns, birds...the fears are plentiful) or Abnegation (I think of myself often, and actually find selflessness close to impossible unless it is for my family). I do however suffer from the the blessing/curse of saying what I am thinking. When people say, "Be honest", nine times out of ten, they do not mean it. Trust me, most people want sunshine blown up their ass. I am not a very good sunshine blower. On the record, I do not want live in the Chicago of Divergent, it is just too grim.
My favorite fictional place the quiz has deemed livable for me is Stars Hollow. SQUEAK! If you are out of the loop, this is the setting for Gilmore Girls. One of my very favorite shows of all time. I will watch this on NetFlix anytime. The characters, the quaint town, the witty banter, and fast talking...perfection. I could live in Stars Hollow. Everyone was a little neurotic, but in an adorable way. This is my utopia.
Self-discovery 7-10 questions at a time. That is the beauty of the online quiz. Thank you online quiz makers. You are doing noble work. Keep 'em coming!
Friday, March 28, 2014
Consciously Annoyed
Have you ever wondered how much further Gwenyth Paltrow can get up her own ass? She will certainly find any polyps on her own colon. I have done a great job of ignoring her "lifestyle" website, and generally ridiculous life choices (i.e. naming a child "Apple"). However, recently she has pulled two very public displays of cluelessness that have shaken me from my silence.
- Her desire to call her divorce from Chris Martin a "conscious uncoupling" is the limit. You can call things whatever you want in your little special world, but I am pretty sure if you want your "conscious uncoupling" to be legal, you will need to sign a decree of divorce. No matter what you call it, your kids are still probably not happy that mom & dad are not together. I have no opposition to divorce, or interest in telling people how to live their lives. I do have a problem with people making up kinder, gentler, fuzzy terms for things that are not. Divorce is real. It happens to half of people who get married. People handle the dissolution of their unions in many ways. If Gwennie and Chris want to keep their divorce friendly, great. That is the best choice for your kids and for your state of mind. However, making up new, happy words for something does not make it any more clear for your kids. Along with having wedgie inducing names, now they can sound pretentious saying, "My mum and dad are consciously uncoupled". It is silly. It is pretentious. Using such ridiculous terms makes the general public "involuntarily regurgitate in our oral cavities, a little"
- Gwenyth also seems to believe being an actress is so much more difficult that being a mom who works a regular 9-5 job. Click here to read the wonderful Open Letter to Ms. Paltrow about how completely horrific her working conditions must be. All of America, no, all of the world feels your pain. It must be difficult having homes on different continents and managing a staff of nannies and assistants. We feel your pain. We all shake our heads and wonder how you manage. Poor thing, and all while going through a conscious uncoupling.
Monday, March 24, 2014
Why I love, #sorrynotsorry
My teen daughter brought home a lovely turn of phrase last summer. I am not sure where she picked it up, but it has become a common phrase in our home. It is a common hash tag on Twitter. It is everywhere.
Sorry, not sorry.
When she first started using this phrase, it made me annoyed. I though she was just being rude, glib, and generally unkind. Sometimes she was. Sometimes we all are those negative things. Then I realized she was just being honest.
We live in a world of false apologies. We hear disgraced public figures say..
"I am so sorry if my words offended you"
"I apologize if my actions caused harm"
"I am sorry but... (anything that comes after the "but" is an excuse, or utter bull****, that cancels out any true remorse)
Basically, those types of apologies deflect blame to someone for being to sensitive, not because they are indeed sorry or intend on taking personal steps to change, or make amends. Many times the apologizer is not sorry for their actions, but sorry they were caught or exposed in an incriminating situation. Carefully listen to someone next time they apologize to you or someone else. Listen for if and but. Especially if it is a public figure or corporation "apologizing" for something. It is truly remarkable how many times there is justification, or blame shifting. No actual apology for the wrong doing. A sincere apology is a truly rare thing. No one wants to say...
"I am sorry stupid statements come out of my mouth when I open it"
"I am sorry I can not keep my pants zipped"
"I am sorry I text out pictures of my junk"
(All of the above could have been public apologies of elected officials, they were not. I will not name names, you can figure it out.)
Sorry, not sorry, has become a beacon of snark filled truth & light in a world of false contrition. Yes, it is snippy. It is very teenage girl. Maybe it is even a little mean, but it is honest. If you are not sorry for what you actually did, if you are only sorry you got caught, then just be sorry that you are not sorry. Save us the trouble of listening to your insincere blathering.
I do not make my kids apologize to each other, or to me. I do talk with them when they wrong someone, or break something that was not theirs to break. We talk about how they would feel if the tables were turned, and what would they want the other person to do. Many times the "wronger" ends up writing a note or drawing a picture or apologizing to the "wronged" party. Not because I tell them they should or because it is "the right thing to do", but only because that is how they would want to treated. We do not have the forced, "I am sorry" spit out with the nasty faces and stomping away. And sometimes there is a "sorry, not sorry". Sometimes we all act with selfish intentions, and do not feel sorry about it. So do not make a false apology.
And that is why I love sorry, not sorry.
Sorry, not sorry.
When she first started using this phrase, it made me annoyed. I though she was just being rude, glib, and generally unkind. Sometimes she was. Sometimes we all are those negative things. Then I realized she was just being honest.
We live in a world of false apologies. We hear disgraced public figures say..
"I am so sorry if my words offended you"
"I apologize if my actions caused harm"
"I am sorry but... (anything that comes after the "but" is an excuse, or utter bull****, that cancels out any true remorse)
Basically, those types of apologies deflect blame to someone for being to sensitive, not because they are indeed sorry or intend on taking personal steps to change, or make amends. Many times the apologizer is not sorry for their actions, but sorry they were caught or exposed in an incriminating situation. Carefully listen to someone next time they apologize to you or someone else. Listen for if and but. Especially if it is a public figure or corporation "apologizing" for something. It is truly remarkable how many times there is justification, or blame shifting. No actual apology for the wrong doing. A sincere apology is a truly rare thing. No one wants to say...
"I am sorry stupid statements come out of my mouth when I open it"
"I am sorry I can not keep my pants zipped"
"I am sorry I text out pictures of my junk"
(All of the above could have been public apologies of elected officials, they were not. I will not name names, you can figure it out.)
Sorry, not sorry, has become a beacon of snark filled truth & light in a world of false contrition. Yes, it is snippy. It is very teenage girl. Maybe it is even a little mean, but it is honest. If you are not sorry for what you actually did, if you are only sorry you got caught, then just be sorry that you are not sorry. Save us the trouble of listening to your insincere blathering.
I do not make my kids apologize to each other, or to me. I do talk with them when they wrong someone, or break something that was not theirs to break. We talk about how they would feel if the tables were turned, and what would they want the other person to do. Many times the "wronger" ends up writing a note or drawing a picture or apologizing to the "wronged" party. Not because I tell them they should or because it is "the right thing to do", but only because that is how they would want to treated. We do not have the forced, "I am sorry" spit out with the nasty faces and stomping away. And sometimes there is a "sorry, not sorry". Sometimes we all act with selfish intentions, and do not feel sorry about it. So do not make a false apology.
And that is why I love sorry, not sorry.
Friday, March 14, 2014
Crabby Time Crabbiness
In a perfect world __________________, and we would all be happy.
How many different ways can you fill in that blank? I have several. Today I am suffering with "crabby time crabbiness" (CTC). This was an affliction that my children were plagued with from birth to age five between the hours of 4-6 pm, everyday. It was just a bad time of day. I made up a cutesy name for something that was far from cute. Adult cases of CTC seem to be caused by environmental things, and have no particular time of day that the CTC sets in. My case of CTC seems to have flared at 8am today. It was externally set upon me. So instead of letting the CTC take over my day, I am going to share all the simple, and not so simple things that would happen (or not happen) in my perfect world.
In a perfect world...
- cancer would not even be a thing
- people would use "please" and "thank you" with all requests
- everyone would plan ahead and not create "emergencies" for others
- other people's actions would not effect my mood
- dogs would let themselves outside, and not desperately stare at you
- dinner would make itself
- everyone would love every dinner
- no one would sweat the small stuff
- everyone would be content with what they have
- people would celebrate other's success
- jerks would be all banned to one central area away from non-jerks
- every sandwich would taste like someone else made it, even if you made it yourself
- coffee would always be the right temperature
- the litter box would self-clean (just like the cat)
- dessert would not induce guilt
- crabby time crabbiness would not exist
Oddly, just making that list has made me feel better. It gave me an attitude adjustment. Some the items are so minor, and some are monumental. Sometimes making a list helps focus what we can, and can not change.
Make your list.
Evaluate it.
Come to terms with things you can not change.
Focus on the things that you can fix.
And always, everyday, count your blessings. Blessings always outnumber annoyances.
Friday, February 28, 2014
Five for Friday
It is FRIDAY. And let us all thank God.
I am pretty much done with this week.
I am pretty much done with this month.
February has the fewest days of any month, but this month drags on like no other. I am recommending cutting a few more days from February. If any one knows where to send this month shortening request, let me know. It is just a proposal at this point. I can not find a point person for the Julian calendar. I was hoping it would be on Twitter so I could mean tweet it. So aside from February...here are my five things for Friday...
I am pretty much done with this week.
I am pretty much done with this month.
February has the fewest days of any month, but this month drags on like no other. I am recommending cutting a few more days from February. If any one knows where to send this month shortening request, let me know. It is just a proposal at this point. I can not find a point person for the Julian calendar. I was hoping it would be on Twitter so I could mean tweet it. So aside from February...here are my five things for Friday...
- Rage Against the Machine. My garage door is a jerk. Technically it is the garage door opener. Mechanically it is sound, but the eye-beams keep going on the fritz whenever the mood strikes. The repair person has been out twice this week. Nothing needs to be replaced, in his professional opinion. It is just a total craps shoot if this door will go back down after it is up. I have learned how to override the eye-beam system. But it is annoying. Yes, this is a first world problem. I know people that have to park outside, on the street. I should be grateful. But I am still pretty darn annoyed.
- The Polar Vortex. I am done hearing about the polar vortex. Actually, polar vortexes, since there have been more than one this winter, and more in the forecast. If you have never felt -17 to -25 Fahrenheit wind chills over a several day period...count yourself very lucky. It is miserable. The dog is depressed because she can not go outside for more than 5 minutes at on time. The kids are sick of it. Everyone is just done with cold. I think I speak not for just myself, but the entire state of Michigan, and perhaps the whole Midwest.
- Mom and Stylist Some how, I have no idea how or why, my daughter finds that I have a good eye for fashion. Not for day to day dressing, but for occasions like dances and parties. She actually consults me on what to wear, and how to wear it. She likes me to accessorize and put together the right hair & make-up. I have no training in fashion, other than I dress myself each day. Being the stylist for my daughter is a lot of fun. When I am in the shops and hear girls complaining to their mothers about clothing suggestions, I realize I am insanely lucky. Never once have I been told my suggestions are "lame" or "stupid". We have other areas where we disagree, it is not all sunshine and roses, but we somehow we bond over clothing. I will take it.
- One to Watch Have you watched House of Cards? It is a NetFlix series. It is addictive. I ignored NetFlix recommending this show to me for a long time. I am not sure why. I love politics. Washington DC is one of my favorite towns. This series really pumps up the political drama. The main character, played by Kevin Spacey, is truly Machiavellian. He is a detestable, manipulative, and horrid person. Yet I can not stop watching.
- One to Read My beloved gives me books each Christmas. He knows I love to read. He never asks me for suggestions for books, yet he always seems to find books I enjoy. This year he gave me Orphan Train by Christina Baker Kline. It is a beautifully written and told in a parallel story style. It is a redemptive, and hopeful story. It is fiction, but based on events that truly happened. Check it out. It is a good read that will leave you wanting more. (That is always the sign of a good book, wanting more of the story)
Thursday, February 20, 2014
I have spent the last three months trying to save a 12 year old laptop.
Yes, it was slow. It never was all that quick. I would really notice when I used my beloved's Mac. However, I am not a Mac person. I am not all, "Apple is the best ever". I do not let myself fall into that lemming way of computing. I also do not think, "Apple is the devil". I have an iPad. I find it very useful. I just like to be diverse in my technology use. I like a good PC. Who does not like something you can fix by shutting it off and restarting it? (Until that stops working too)
Yes, it quit letting me sign in to my blog. It did not stop me from writing, just from sharing. To be honest, you did not want to hear the horrific thoughts I had during my "repair" phase. It got pretty dark.
Yes, I am not very tech savvy. However, I have learned many things about computers through trial and error...many many errors. I am fully competent in using flash drives to save, and back-up files from a dinosaur computer. Unlike past crashes, I am losing nothing. In fact I may have saved way too much. I suppose I can always lose the flash drives..they are small.
Yes, I hate change. That is pretty much it. I dislike doing things differently.
Yes, I have finally given up...only because Windows XP is no longer going to be supported, and there is not a chance in hell that that poor old laptop will survive a software update. She has been de-bugged, cleaned, rebooted, and refurbished. It is just time to let her go. It is the kindest thing to do. She has typed papers, essays, blog posts, Christmas letters, and countless other documents. I learned how to make a spreadsheet on that computer. I signed up for social media sites on her. I have checked countless e-mails on her. I learned how to search the web on that computer. Online shopping? She was the best. Coupon searches? She was a champ. And now it is time to move on. Mostly for my own sake.
I have invested too much time and caring in an inanimate object that really does not care back. It is like my own personal Her (the movie about a guy that falls in love with an operating system). Sometimes everything is personal, even when it is pretty clear that it is not.
Who has not bargained with a dead car battery?
Who has not cried over a broken coffee carafe?
Who has not felt a little off when they have left there phone at home for the day?
Who has not wept openly when finding a hole in your favorite piece of clothing?
Our things become a little bit of our comfort. We count on our things to be there, and do what they are suppose to do. And if you are a sentimental fool (and many of us are), you want those things to be with you forever. Even though they won't. They are things. Fortunately, I have a very tech savvy daughter that is helping me adjust to my "new normal" on a six year old laptop with Vista that has been sitting around since it was brushed aside for a shiny Mac a few years ago. My daughter really cares, and was starting to think I was never going to move on. At least she knows how dedicated I am. It probably terrifies her.
I am working my way up to Windows 8.1.
Very slowly.
Yes, it was slow. It never was all that quick. I would really notice when I used my beloved's Mac. However, I am not a Mac person. I am not all, "Apple is the best ever". I do not let myself fall into that lemming way of computing. I also do not think, "Apple is the devil". I have an iPad. I find it very useful. I just like to be diverse in my technology use. I like a good PC. Who does not like something you can fix by shutting it off and restarting it? (Until that stops working too)
Yes, it quit letting me sign in to my blog. It did not stop me from writing, just from sharing. To be honest, you did not want to hear the horrific thoughts I had during my "repair" phase. It got pretty dark.
Yes, I am not very tech savvy. However, I have learned many things about computers through trial and error...many many errors. I am fully competent in using flash drives to save, and back-up files from a dinosaur computer. Unlike past crashes, I am losing nothing. In fact I may have saved way too much. I suppose I can always lose the flash drives..they are small.
Yes, I hate change. That is pretty much it. I dislike doing things differently.
Yes, I have finally given up...only because Windows XP is no longer going to be supported, and there is not a chance in hell that that poor old laptop will survive a software update. She has been de-bugged, cleaned, rebooted, and refurbished. It is just time to let her go. It is the kindest thing to do. She has typed papers, essays, blog posts, Christmas letters, and countless other documents. I learned how to make a spreadsheet on that computer. I signed up for social media sites on her. I have checked countless e-mails on her. I learned how to search the web on that computer. Online shopping? She was the best. Coupon searches? She was a champ. And now it is time to move on. Mostly for my own sake.
I have invested too much time and caring in an inanimate object that really does not care back. It is like my own personal Her (the movie about a guy that falls in love with an operating system). Sometimes everything is personal, even when it is pretty clear that it is not.
Who has not bargained with a dead car battery?
Who has not cried over a broken coffee carafe?
Who has not felt a little off when they have left there phone at home for the day?
Who has not wept openly when finding a hole in your favorite piece of clothing?
Our things become a little bit of our comfort. We count on our things to be there, and do what they are suppose to do. And if you are a sentimental fool (and many of us are), you want those things to be with you forever. Even though they won't. They are things. Fortunately, I have a very tech savvy daughter that is helping me adjust to my "new normal" on a six year old laptop with Vista that has been sitting around since it was brushed aside for a shiny Mac a few years ago. My daughter really cares, and was starting to think I was never going to move on. At least she knows how dedicated I am. It probably terrifies her.
I am working my way up to Windows 8.1.
Very slowly.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
I Admire You
I do not use the word "admire" very often. Correction, I use the word "admire" often, but generally in a sarcastic and snarky way where it pretty much means the opposite. However today, I am talking true admiration for a special group of people. People I really did not know existed. A very rare breed of people. These people are divorced people that co-parent and treat each other with respect, kindness, and a genuine caring. One former couple that I know does this amazingly well. We have same aged kids in activities together so we encounter each other often. I knew this couple divorced several years ago. My husband did not realize they were divorced until a few weeks ago when their child said something about "at my dad's house" in front of my beloved. This prompted some questions later to clear up his confusion. Here are the reasons he believed them to be married...
(Okay, maybe the above does not seem like remarkable stuff, but my beloved and I really love each other and often just sit in silence with each other at public events (and on our own couch). It is not an uncomfortable silence. We just do not feel like talking.)
I have always believed this un-couple was just a anomaly, pretty much two peace doves in the the world of divorce that has so many acrimonious vultures. I admire them. I do not admire that they are not together anymore, but the fact that they have risen above whatever caused them to divorce to be parents to their kids first, is beautiful.
Just a few days ago I found out another one of my daughter's friends has peacefully divorced parents as well. I would have never guessed they were not together, for pretty much the same reasons my beloved listed above for the other super un-couple. Kindness, respect, and genuine caring can be felt around these co-parents. How did these people learn to put the resentment and other broken relationship garbage away? It is so unselfish. It is so admirable.
I am not sure if I could be that kind and respectful if I were divorced from my beloved. The very ugly truth about me is, I like to be right, and I like to win. I fight with these truths about myself. Constantly asking myself; is "being right" is worth the fight? No, is generally the correct answer. However, when I am hurt or feeling insecure (the type of feelings very present in a broken relationship), it is challenging for me to not fall back into "being right" and "win at all costs" mode. Human nature is real jerk sometimes.
I admire those people who have decided (I honestly believe they have made a very deliberate choice) to be friendly with their ex-spouse. Whether their kids know it now, or maybe will only realize it much later, their mom and dad put them first. These co-parents put aside their brokenness in favor of their kids' completeness. This is something I can truly admire.
- They sit by each other at events
- They talk and laugh with each other
- Their kids are good and well adjusted (this is based on observation, they could be monsters at home, but he has never seen it)
- They speak kindly about each other
(Okay, maybe the above does not seem like remarkable stuff, but my beloved and I really love each other and often just sit in silence with each other at public events (and on our own couch). It is not an uncomfortable silence. We just do not feel like talking.)
I have always believed this un-couple was just a anomaly, pretty much two peace doves in the the world of divorce that has so many acrimonious vultures. I admire them. I do not admire that they are not together anymore, but the fact that they have risen above whatever caused them to divorce to be parents to their kids first, is beautiful.
Just a few days ago I found out another one of my daughter's friends has peacefully divorced parents as well. I would have never guessed they were not together, for pretty much the same reasons my beloved listed above for the other super un-couple. Kindness, respect, and genuine caring can be felt around these co-parents. How did these people learn to put the resentment and other broken relationship garbage away? It is so unselfish. It is so admirable.
I am not sure if I could be that kind and respectful if I were divorced from my beloved. The very ugly truth about me is, I like to be right, and I like to win. I fight with these truths about myself. Constantly asking myself; is "being right" is worth the fight? No, is generally the correct answer. However, when I am hurt or feeling insecure (the type of feelings very present in a broken relationship), it is challenging for me to not fall back into "being right" and "win at all costs" mode. Human nature is real jerk sometimes.
I admire those people who have decided (I honestly believe they have made a very deliberate choice) to be friendly with their ex-spouse. Whether their kids know it now, or maybe will only realize it much later, their mom and dad put them first. These co-parents put aside their brokenness in favor of their kids' completeness. This is something I can truly admire.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
85%
I was reading through some of my previous posts and this one from January 2012 really struck me. (In a good way, others make me cringe) When I first wrote it I felt some slacker guilt for admitting I am not a real perfectionist, but somehow almost two years later, I want to give myself a high five. This is why I love writing so much. It captures moments, and often reminds me that I am not done becoming me yet. And if you did not read this when it was first published...it is new to you. ---Allie
Yesterday I had a wonderful talk with an equally wonderful friend. The kind of talk where you cover so many topics, commiserate, celebrate, bitch, praise, and laugh through so much of it. It would be wrong to share any specifics of our long conversation, these are things I hold dear and confidential. Anyway at some point we agreed that we like our lives to be going a solid 85% right. I started by confessing that I am happy with life being at a C+. She then pointed out some truths about me, and it was decided that we are solidly B people. And 85% is a solid B. If everything in life is 85 % good then things are fine. Sure 15% may be utter calamity and chaos, but that can be dealt with as long as the percentage of calamity does not gets larger. It should also be mentioned I am a person that looks at life from a school perspective. Perhaps it my education background or just that I see lessons and test in so many aspects of daily living. Example: The sulky faced, rude clerk at the store that is almost begging you to tell him or her off with their sour demeanor. However, you take the high ground and in your mind assume that something hideous must have happened to this person on the way to work today, so you just say, "Thank you. Have a nice day", at the end of your transaction. You pass. You get 100% for being a civil human being in a frustrating, somewhat hostile situation. There is the glimpse into my very grade based brain that is happy to have an 85% good life.
Yesterday I had a wonderful talk with an equally wonderful friend. The kind of talk where you cover so many topics, commiserate, celebrate, bitch, praise, and laugh through so much of it. It would be wrong to share any specifics of our long conversation, these are things I hold dear and confidential. Anyway at some point we agreed that we like our lives to be going a solid 85% right. I started by confessing that I am happy with life being at a C+. She then pointed out some truths about me, and it was decided that we are solidly B people. And 85% is a solid B. If everything in life is 85 % good then things are fine. Sure 15% may be utter calamity and chaos, but that can be dealt with as long as the percentage of calamity does not gets larger. It should also be mentioned I am a person that looks at life from a school perspective. Perhaps it my education background or just that I see lessons and test in so many aspects of daily living. Example: The sulky faced, rude clerk at the store that is almost begging you to tell him or her off with their sour demeanor. However, you take the high ground and in your mind assume that something hideous must have happened to this person on the way to work today, so you just say, "Thank you. Have a nice day", at the end of your transaction. You pass. You get 100% for being a civil human being in a frustrating, somewhat hostile situation. There is the glimpse into my very grade based brain that is happy to have an 85% good life.
In truth, how many times in your life can you say everything was going perfect? Maybe as a child, on Christmas. At that point I may have said, "And all is right with the world". Other than that pretty much life consists of taking the bad with the good. Think of the most fortunate person you know. Now think about the thing in their life that you can not deal with or would struggle to deal with. Everyone has something, some have more misfortune or drama than others. However, even those with the most charmed life have obstacles to overcome or learn to live with. Those things just may not be obvious to us. Sure their are people living lives of 95% of everything going well, and they are probably happy. However, their margin of error is only 5%...heck, that could cause this person to completely lose it at some point. Living a solid B life is where I choose to dwell. Perhaps I could strive for more, but my solid B keeps me on the honor roll of life. No one is calling me for "life tutoring", but I am also not getting notes home about not living up to my potential. Perhaps this theory exposes me as a slacker, or maybe just as a total realist. It really does not matter as long as I keep my solid B average. Viva la 85%.
Friday, October 11, 2013
Mistakes & Myths
A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing. --George Bernard ShawDoes anyone else subscribe to the Oprah Magazine daily e-mail? Please say you do, I need to feel some community in my in-adequateness. I subscribed years ago, when Oprah still had her talk show. I was an occasional watcher. I like her interview style, and she really does like a lot of cool stuff, so the "Favorite Things" shows always sucked me in hard. Anyway, each day I get an e-mail about "Living My Best Life", no harm in trying to be the best me I can be, right? Life coaching and guidance through the inbox. Good stuff. Lately most of the titles contain the word "mistakes" or "myths".
The Six Hair Mistakes (hint: quit talking to your hairdresser, you are compromising your hairstyle)
The Ten Biggest Relationship Mistakes (oddly sharing to many common interests, and not sharing common interests are both no-nos)
The Biggest Mistakes Women Make When Dieting (Creating too much of a calorie deficit through under eating and over exercising.)
5 Diet Myths Making You Gain Weights (as told by Dr. Oz...do not even get me started) He restates the above "diet mistake" and you need to quit diet soda.
4 Myths About Anti-Depressants (also by Oz) (they are not "happy pills")
So this is the stuff that greets me every morning in my inbox. All the myths I am believing and mistakes I am making. It becomes a game to see what I am doing right. In reading all the myths and mistakes, which are meant to help guide one to being better, or making better choices, a person can, at the least, get rather confused, and at the worst, start feeling like a colossal hot mess.
Lately, I have started to think making mistakes is fine. Is it really so bad to believe in myths? As a kid I pretty damn happy believing in Santa and the Tooth-fairy. Loot rolled in. Life was good. Granted, the Santa myth is rather harmless, and harboring other false beliefs can be more dangerous. I guess the whole thing with "Myth Lists" is you sometimes feel like a dummy for not realizing you were off the mark. However, mistakes are not bad. Mistakes are some of life's best teachers.
Do not fear mistakes. You will know failure. Continue to reach out. --Benjamin FranklinAs a mother of a teen daughter I am very guilty of trying to keep her from making mistakes. (I admit I am a huge hypocrite, and she knows it) Sure, there are some things that through sharing stories can help teach and mold. I certainly do not want her to learn not to drink and drive by getting in a horrific crash. I do not want her to OD and go to rehab to learn that drugs are dangerous. The big mistakes I am perfectly willing to share news articles, and other sources to help impress that these are mistakes she does not even want to dabble with. It is the smaller, but still painful, stuff that I struggle to not lecture upon. Most of this involves relationships. Things like, putting to much caring and trust in people that will not reciprocate. Liking someone who does not even have a inkling of clue how awesome she is as a person. Believing the myths someone tells to get what they want. Believing the myth that it does not matter. I never want her to have her heart broken. I want her to never make mistakes that will hurt. When I write that I see how absurd it sounds. Mistakes do hurt. Some hurt worse than others. Some myths, like Santa, are harmless, and some are far more insidious.
I mock the Oprah Magazine site for sending me lists of mistakes not to make, and myths not to believe so I can I have my "best life". As if you can really "learn life" from reading an article, or attending a lecture. All the while, I am doing the same thing. I want to lecture and curate the perfect easy, breezy high school experience for my daughter. Perhaps that is the big myth I need dispelled. High school is neither easy, or breezy. It is a bunch of confused half-adult, half-children wandering about trying to figure out what the heck is happening to them. I just happen to have a very serious interest in only one of these half & half creatures. I want to send her a list of mistakes not make, and myths to disregard. I want her to read each bit of information and wisdom as if it were heaven sent. It is not. It is just from a person was there, made mistakes, got hurt, got up, and did better the next time. I would not give up any of it because it helped me become wise. However, now I have to watch one of the most important people in my life make mistakes, get hurt, get up, and do better the next time. I need to let her become wise. You can not give wisdom, you have to earn it.
And no lists or articles in the world could have ever, even remotely, prepared me for this.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
The Name Game
One thing that brings me great pride is my ability to remember people's names. How I do it? I am not sure. My memory is pretty solid when it comes to recalling information specific to people. I can not remember phone numbers, mathematical formulas, or where my car keys are located. However, names and faces lock in really well. Okay, until yesterday. I was at a meeting for an upcoming marching band competition that is being hosted at my daughter's school. It was a meeting of all the volunteers. Meetings and I have a rocky relationship. I tend to only listen for what I may need to know for my specific position, and ignore the rest. The game I chose to play last night to keep my facial expressions looking engaged and attentive was, Match the Kid and Parent. It is fun game. The kids were all out practicing, so it was more challenging. Glancing around the room, there were actually many parents I had not met, but not letting that deter me, I studied features and decided who the offspring may be. (I can not be 100% sure how I scored on the match game since the meeting dismissed before practice and some of the parents escaped). However, I became distressed when it came to another freshman parent, I know we have been introduced. I remembered the child's name, and the wife's name (she was not even at the meeting), but the dad's name was gone. No where could I recall it. It fell out of my brain. Very frustrating for a person that considers them self a name recalling savant. I should have been able to shrug this off, but then a sign-up sheet came around and I needed to pass it to "the forgotten-name dad", and he was looking the other direction and did not see the sheet next to him. Such panic for me. What do I do???
Do I call him Mr. (and the last name which I do remember)? No, that sounds so teacher-like and not something you do unless your kid is right next to you.
Do I poke him in the arm with a sheet of paper? No, that is weird.
Do I wait for him to turn around? No, the paper will stop circulating (I like progress to much)
No, I went for the cheap cop out, "Psst...Jack's* Dad". It worked. The paper continued to circulate. However, I am now "that person". The person who calls people, publicly, by their children's name.
I am not sure if any offense was taken. Personally, it does not bother me when people call me by my child's name followed by "mom". I am proud to be their mom. It is an honor. Frankly, there are so many worse things to be called. However, I am not sure everyone feels the same.
Being a name recalling savant (up until yesterday), I am not sure how to proceed to relearn this person's name. I know people I have met several times still ask me my name. It is annoying for me, but I know many people do not have name recall, so I reintroduce myself (sometimes several times). It hurts to be so utterly forgettable (not really). The hardest thing for me is admitting that sometimes my memory for names is fallible. Ouch, that hurt to write. Name recall is one of my major functions in my relationship with my beloved. He is okay with names, but pales in comparison to his name-recall genius wife. Driving to social engagements it is my job to give him a refresher on who is who. Pairing the spouses, naming the kids, telling professions...all that stuff. My beloved is sometimes baffled at how I can spout all of this information, yet forget to buy peanut butter at the grocery, or balance my checkbook (Honestly, I have no idea either, it is just the stuff that sticks in my brain). We have a great system where I will greet people with their names at events so he can always appear to know who is who. (I share the genius)
Example:
Me: Oh Mary! Great to see you. Is Bill with you tonight? (best way to pair and locate a partner, who also my have found the open bar. Priorities)
My Beloved: Nice to see you, Mary. I am going to see Bill.
This is generally a foolproof system, unless Mary and Bill have just filed for divorce. In which case, I sort of step in it on occasion. At least I am not poking them in the arm with paper, or asking for their name for the 10th time.
I am going to have to suck it up and ask for re-introduction, or insist my daughter quit the marching band to spare me the shame. I am going to be so annoyed with myself if it turns out I forgot a name like Mike, Jim, Dan, Tom, Bob, or Dave. (Those are my top six guessing names) I am not sure if anyone else on the planet even has "guessing names". Most people just say, "Sorry, I can not recall your name". Perhaps no one else has elevated names to an actual game.
*Name changed. I do not use the real names of minors, even my own kids on this blog. Ever.
Do I call him Mr. (and the last name which I do remember)? No, that sounds so teacher-like and not something you do unless your kid is right next to you.
Do I poke him in the arm with a sheet of paper? No, that is weird.
Do I wait for him to turn around? No, the paper will stop circulating (I like progress to much)
No, I went for the cheap cop out, "Psst...Jack's* Dad". It worked. The paper continued to circulate. However, I am now "that person". The person who calls people, publicly, by their children's name.
I am not sure if any offense was taken. Personally, it does not bother me when people call me by my child's name followed by "mom". I am proud to be their mom. It is an honor. Frankly, there are so many worse things to be called. However, I am not sure everyone feels the same.
Being a name recalling savant (up until yesterday), I am not sure how to proceed to relearn this person's name. I know people I have met several times still ask me my name. It is annoying for me, but I know many people do not have name recall, so I reintroduce myself (sometimes several times). It hurts to be so utterly forgettable (not really). The hardest thing for me is admitting that sometimes my memory for names is fallible. Ouch, that hurt to write. Name recall is one of my major functions in my relationship with my beloved. He is okay with names, but pales in comparison to his name-recall genius wife. Driving to social engagements it is my job to give him a refresher on who is who. Pairing the spouses, naming the kids, telling professions...all that stuff. My beloved is sometimes baffled at how I can spout all of this information, yet forget to buy peanut butter at the grocery, or balance my checkbook (Honestly, I have no idea either, it is just the stuff that sticks in my brain). We have a great system where I will greet people with their names at events so he can always appear to know who is who. (I share the genius)
Example:
Me: Oh Mary! Great to see you. Is Bill with you tonight? (best way to pair and locate a partner, who also my have found the open bar. Priorities)
My Beloved: Nice to see you, Mary. I am going to see Bill.
This is generally a foolproof system, unless Mary and Bill have just filed for divorce. In which case, I sort of step in it on occasion. At least I am not poking them in the arm with paper, or asking for their name for the 10th time.
I am going to have to suck it up and ask for re-introduction, or insist my daughter quit the marching band to spare me the shame. I am going to be so annoyed with myself if it turns out I forgot a name like Mike, Jim, Dan, Tom, Bob, or Dave. (Those are my top six guessing names) I am not sure if anyone else on the planet even has "guessing names". Most people just say, "Sorry, I can not recall your name". Perhaps no one else has elevated names to an actual game.
*Name changed. I do not use the real names of minors, even my own kids on this blog. Ever.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Mommy & We
This week my beloved is traveling on business, which his jobs calls for on occasion. Many people have spouses that travel far more often than mine, and I am not being "woe is me" about my situation. My kids are good, helpful, and fun to be around, so we make the best of it. However, if you are accustom to having another full grown adult around for conversation in the evenings, or to help drive a shift or two for the various activities, it can be a little crazy at times. I am documenting the days for this trip in my public forum. In case you never have the opportunity to single parent, you can live vicariously through me. Or maybe you are a full time single parent and you can call me a whiner. Either way, I am putting it out there...
Day 1: No one died today. My greatest accomplishment was cleaning the bathrooms. I even washed down the walls and ceiling with a bleach solution. It all started with a cobweb in one corner of the bathroom, and it became a "If You Give a Pig a Pancake" situation. (If you do not understand that children's literature reference, get yourself to the local bookstore and read it. You can just stand in the aisle and read it, tell them I said it was okay). Anyway, the bathroom is so clean I could have served dinner off the floor. I did not. We went out for chicken shwarma. It is my comfort food, garlicky chicken and pita bread. Happy. My daughter talked about the upcoming Homecoming dance and who was going with whom, and how she likes her dress so much because it's "classy not trashy"...(you bet it's classy. I paid for a classy dress. Like I am letting my kid out of the house looking like a Vegas showgirl? No offense to the showgirl population). My son asked at least fifteen questions about dances. What it's it? Where is it? Do you have to have date? Do you have to wear shoes? Are there teachers at the dance? What if the music is bad? If you do not dance do you have to leave? Can I go see the dance? Why not? Why are you so mean? Why can't I ask anymore questions? People who ask a lot of questions learn the most. No, I do not want to get punched. That was a stupid question. It was enjoyable to see someone else in the hot seat getting rapid fire questions, but when the threats of violence erupted, I stepped in and fixed it. Everyone showered, and then bedtime.
Day 2: No one died today, but threats were made. I met my friends for coffee, it was the brightest part of my day. I love those crazy ladies, mostly because they love this crazy lady right back. The dog stared at me and then started making gagging noises. I tried not to take it personally, but it hurt.
Day 3: 3:46am awakened by the cat licking my nose. She had done this to my beloved Saturday night. I was hoping he was just special. Nope, the cat is a freaky nose-licker. I sat awake for 30 minutes wondering whether this was a valid reason to return the cat to the animal shelter. Decided when she starts chewing our faces off I will make a stand. Re-awoke at 5:30 to start the day. No one died. Wednesday is crazy after-school schedule day. Out of kindness, I brought my daughter a mocha at school where she was waiting for an hour between dismissal and practice. She appreciated it. Her friends seemed annoyed that I neglected to get them mochas. Kids today seem pretty entitled. I only have resources enough to spoil the two kids I birthed. No one was lost or left behind. No panicked calls were made. I declare victory upon this day. I am still very suspicious of the cat.
Day 4: Great victories were achieved before 9am!!! I had to sign up my Webelos scouts up for some field trips at our local nature center. The line for this is always HUGE. I farmed my son off to a neighbor to get him on the bus. Then I went to wait in line. Thankfully, another leader from my Cub Scout pack was there. She was first in line, and people were walking in and lining up with their fellow pack leaders. My leader friend (and overall awesome person) waved me up. OH YES! I am in the front!!! I passed go, I collected my $200. At the front of the line, still waiting for registration to begin, she explained another leader gave her registrations to turn in for the Bear workshops. We planned it so I registered all the Webelos I & IIs and she went to the Bear line. Naturally, being first, we got in to the sessions we needed. Euphoria, may not even adequately describe the joyful feeling. I needed this "simple win". I needed to feel like I got away with something. Being the solo-parent for four days wears on a person. My spouse is flying home as I write this post. I know he is excited to be back home. I am happy to soon have another adult around.
I give massive amounts of credit to people who walk the parenting path solo everyday. It is tiresome, and a bit lonely. I am gladly counting down the hours to the return of dual parenting.
Day 1: No one died today. My greatest accomplishment was cleaning the bathrooms. I even washed down the walls and ceiling with a bleach solution. It all started with a cobweb in one corner of the bathroom, and it became a "If You Give a Pig a Pancake" situation. (If you do not understand that children's literature reference, get yourself to the local bookstore and read it. You can just stand in the aisle and read it, tell them I said it was okay). Anyway, the bathroom is so clean I could have served dinner off the floor. I did not. We went out for chicken shwarma. It is my comfort food, garlicky chicken and pita bread. Happy. My daughter talked about the upcoming Homecoming dance and who was going with whom, and how she likes her dress so much because it's "classy not trashy"...(you bet it's classy. I paid for a classy dress. Like I am letting my kid out of the house looking like a Vegas showgirl? No offense to the showgirl population). My son asked at least fifteen questions about dances. What it's it? Where is it? Do you have to have date? Do you have to wear shoes? Are there teachers at the dance? What if the music is bad? If you do not dance do you have to leave? Can I go see the dance? Why not? Why are you so mean? Why can't I ask anymore questions? People who ask a lot of questions learn the most. No, I do not want to get punched. That was a stupid question. It was enjoyable to see someone else in the hot seat getting rapid fire questions, but when the threats of violence erupted, I stepped in and fixed it. Everyone showered, and then bedtime.
Day 2: No one died today, but threats were made. I met my friends for coffee, it was the brightest part of my day. I love those crazy ladies, mostly because they love this crazy lady right back. The dog stared at me and then started making gagging noises. I tried not to take it personally, but it hurt.
Day 3: 3:46am awakened by the cat licking my nose. She had done this to my beloved Saturday night. I was hoping he was just special. Nope, the cat is a freaky nose-licker. I sat awake for 30 minutes wondering whether this was a valid reason to return the cat to the animal shelter. Decided when she starts chewing our faces off I will make a stand. Re-awoke at 5:30 to start the day. No one died. Wednesday is crazy after-school schedule day. Out of kindness, I brought my daughter a mocha at school where she was waiting for an hour between dismissal and practice. She appreciated it. Her friends seemed annoyed that I neglected to get them mochas. Kids today seem pretty entitled. I only have resources enough to spoil the two kids I birthed. No one was lost or left behind. No panicked calls were made. I declare victory upon this day. I am still very suspicious of the cat.
Day 4: Great victories were achieved before 9am!!! I had to sign up my Webelos scouts up for some field trips at our local nature center. The line for this is always HUGE. I farmed my son off to a neighbor to get him on the bus. Then I went to wait in line. Thankfully, another leader from my Cub Scout pack was there. She was first in line, and people were walking in and lining up with their fellow pack leaders. My leader friend (and overall awesome person) waved me up. OH YES! I am in the front!!! I passed go, I collected my $200. At the front of the line, still waiting for registration to begin, she explained another leader gave her registrations to turn in for the Bear workshops. We planned it so I registered all the Webelos I & IIs and she went to the Bear line. Naturally, being first, we got in to the sessions we needed. Euphoria, may not even adequately describe the joyful feeling. I needed this "simple win". I needed to feel like I got away with something. Being the solo-parent for four days wears on a person. My spouse is flying home as I write this post. I know he is excited to be back home. I am happy to soon have another adult around.
I give massive amounts of credit to people who walk the parenting path solo everyday. It is tiresome, and a bit lonely. I am gladly counting down the hours to the return of dual parenting.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Under Construction: the teen years
Betsy, my sister, and I were recently having a conversation, and then an e-mail exchange about a teen situation with my daughter. My maternal confidentiality code keeps me from elaborating too much, but it is a typical teen thing. Nothing dangerous. Nothing that a few years, some red wine (for me, not my child), and many more sister talks will not remedy. One of my responses to my very wise social worker sister, was that it seems my daughter is under construction right now. Everything is messy, loud, and the dust gets kicked up, but when the construction is done, she is going to be really something magnificent. However, right now I am living in a construction zone. And the contractor is taking His sweet time getting the project done. Okay, I know everything good is worth the wait. I am not wishing time away. I am not. It just gets tough living with a teen. They are irritable, hormonal, and often confrontational. They can also be sweet, generous, kind, and compassionate. The trick is figuring out who is coming out of that ransacked room on any given morning. Or who will walk back in the front door after school. It is impossible to know. It could be an angel, or it could be the anti-Christ. (I exaggerate, because I can, and the other "a" word I was thinking of was not much better). Either way she is my child and I love her.
I love her smile, and her frown.
I love her hopefulness, and her despair.
I love her laughter, and her tears.
I love her joyful shouts, and her angry rants.
Some say I have to because I am her mother, it is my job. Even on the days when it feels like I am parenting two of her, the "good one" and the Incredible Hulk. It will all pass. She is learning how to navigate the world with more independence. Sometimes it is awesome, sometimes it is awesomely frustrating. I get it. I have been there. In many ways I am just as frustrated. I want to have bouts of tears, and yell too. I want to fix the problems. I want to tell her how to do everything so it will work out. I can't, because then she will never figure out that she has the solution to problems, the big ones and the small ones. It is my job to keep my cool, and drop casual advice (like clues for a scavenger hunt, just enough to get her in the right direction, but not solving the riddles completely) When dealing with teens it is best to stay calm, even if it is a false calm at times. Many days are "fake it 'til you make it" around here.
It would be cruel to use the words "hot mess" to describe this phase of human development, but sometimes the truth hurts. Most of us grow out our hot messiness. Sure, there are some people that are still living the drama of the hot mess life, I am not going let my daughter be that person. I will tolerate her dust, and the commotion caused by her growing into who she is meant to be. I will also appreciate and celebrate all of the beautiful milestones and achievements the next few years will bring. Taking the good with the bad.
She is under construction, pardon the dust.
I love her smile, and her frown.
I love her hopefulness, and her despair.
I love her laughter, and her tears.
I love her joyful shouts, and her angry rants.
Some say I have to because I am her mother, it is my job. Even on the days when it feels like I am parenting two of her, the "good one" and the Incredible Hulk. It will all pass. She is learning how to navigate the world with more independence. Sometimes it is awesome, sometimes it is awesomely frustrating. I get it. I have been there. In many ways I am just as frustrated. I want to have bouts of tears, and yell too. I want to fix the problems. I want to tell her how to do everything so it will work out. I can't, because then she will never figure out that she has the solution to problems, the big ones and the small ones. It is my job to keep my cool, and drop casual advice (like clues for a scavenger hunt, just enough to get her in the right direction, but not solving the riddles completely) When dealing with teens it is best to stay calm, even if it is a false calm at times. Many days are "fake it 'til you make it" around here.
It would be cruel to use the words "hot mess" to describe this phase of human development, but sometimes the truth hurts. Most of us grow out our hot messiness. Sure, there are some people that are still living the drama of the hot mess life, I am not going let my daughter be that person. I will tolerate her dust, and the commotion caused by her growing into who she is meant to be. I will also appreciate and celebrate all of the beautiful milestones and achievements the next few years will bring. Taking the good with the bad.
She is under construction, pardon the dust.
Friday, September 13, 2013
Five for Friday
Our Imaginary Dialog
Reader: Jeepers! Allie, it has been an eternity since you wrote a Five for Friday. Has nothing random or ridiculous happened in months? Have you read nothing decent? Has the whole planet finally come around to your way of thinking?
Allie: Oh dear one, random and ridiculous is like the water in the Great Lakes that surrounds this pleasant peninsula I inhabit. It is plentiful and often infested with non-native creatures much like those crazy carp that jump out of the water, and zebra mussels that do whatever they do that is horrible and wrong.
Reader: Huh, okay then...well, what sort of random ridiculousness have you encountered this week? (fervently hoping for no more obscure, slightly environmental, but completely baffling references)
Allie: Wow, thanks for asking, my intelligent and kind reader. It is so compassionate of you to be concerned with the important and pressing issues in Allieville (population 1, but the visitor center is very busy and their are three squatters in the mayoral mansion)
Reader: So you have some witty, mildly entertaining musings to share????
Me: You know I do. You know, I do.
Reader: Jeepers! Allie, it has been an eternity since you wrote a Five for Friday. Has nothing random or ridiculous happened in months? Have you read nothing decent? Has the whole planet finally come around to your way of thinking?
Allie: Oh dear one, random and ridiculous is like the water in the Great Lakes that surrounds this pleasant peninsula I inhabit. It is plentiful and often infested with non-native creatures much like those crazy carp that jump out of the water, and zebra mussels that do whatever they do that is horrible and wrong.
Reader: Huh, okay then...well, what sort of random ridiculousness have you encountered this week? (fervently hoping for no more obscure, slightly environmental, but completely baffling references)
Allie: Wow, thanks for asking, my intelligent and kind reader. It is so compassionate of you to be concerned with the important and pressing issues in Allieville (population 1, but the visitor center is very busy and their are three squatters in the mayoral mansion)
Reader: So you have some witty, mildly entertaining musings to share????
Me: You know I do. You know, I do.
- The Two Day Heat Wave. Tuesday and Wednesday were unseasonably hot this week. I had pity upon the school kids. The self-pity came into play when I had to attend an Open House at the elementary school. It was hotter than Hades and three times as humid (I hear Hades enjoys a dry heat, much like Death Valley, and your oven) The A/C had been turned off in the hope of using no climate control in the house until mid-October. I pondered making my family tough it out. Then folded like a wet paper bag before noon on Tuesday. The thought of my family coming home, complaining about the heat was too much for me. These people are getting to me, making soft. At this rate they may coax me into turning on the heat before October 15th.
- Word Mashers. The English language is in peril. Every year some really sketchy words push their way into the dictionary by popular force. Words that are like nails on a chalkboard to this lover of words. In 2012, "sexting", made the dictionary. (thanks Anthony Wiener, thanks a lot) The word "earworm" made the dictionary as well. I happen to fully endorse "earworm", I was actually surprised that it was not already in the dictionary. My fear is the mashed up words like "amirite" (am I right), and "inorite" (I know, right) will be wholly embraced. These are horrid phrase/questions already, but to then mash them into one word that ends with up vocal inflection trying to imply a fully formed question makes me crazy. First of all, no you are not right, and I am pretty sure you know very little when you use these phrase/question atrocities. A piece of my soul dies every time I hear these abominable language thugs. I cry for our future if either of these monsters make the dictionary cut.
- Orange is the New Black (the book). I recently downloaded this memoir of Piper Kerman's experience in a Federal womens prison. It is a good read. She writes very honestly about what landed her in prison, and what it was like for her being locked up for 13 months. It is cautionary tale for those who make questionable choices in this time of mandatory minimum prison sentences for first time offenders. Check it out.
- Orange is the New Black (TV show). Netflix has made an original series loosely based upon Piper Kerman's memoir. Piper is involved in the series production, she is listed in the credits in some capacity.. The series is very entertaining. It is also rather graphic, not suitable for kids or even teen viewing. I mean that. I am no prude, but this is completely adult content. The book is suitable for teens if they are interested. The storytelling is very engaging, and you may find yourself sucked into several episodes back to back. It okay, it's Netflix. Netflix is all about binge TV watching.
- Sad, but True. A few weeks ago my son confronted me in the kitchen about Santa. My sweet and logical LEGO loving boy stated that he has come to the conclusion that Santa Claus is indeed not real. Ouch. He is nine. He gave a very reasoned argument. He then chastised me for being a liar. I informed him that his dad was in on it too. He then said he is a liar too. (Which is great because I do not like taking the heat alone. I will throw people under the bus, even my beloved husband) Then he promised to play along for his sister's sake. What??? His sister is 14. She has never told me where she stands on Santa. She is the best older sister ever. She wrote letters to Santa all through middle school. I know she knows, but she would never say because she would not want to upset her little brother. I am a little sad. I will probably still put some stuff under the tree from "Santa" for the next few years. Now I am wondering if I need to tell my daughter that the little guy has it all figured out? Maybe someone will e-mail her a copy of this blog. I do not think she reads me. Not enough pictures, poor spelling, and LOLing here.
That is all I have for this week my sweet reader. Enjoy your weekend!
Totally random aside. In my first draft of this entry in the dialog I had labeled the Reader as "you" and Allie as "me"...then realized it was odd for you to consider yourself as "you" when you are a "me" to yourself. Pronouns can be your friend and enemy at the same time.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Marching Band Rules
My very musically gifted daughter has joined her high school's marching band. Okay, she pretty much joined it back in June, that is how long the band has been meeting and practicing. They practice a lot. A LOT. Long practices. Frequent practices. Many, many, many practices. They went away to camp, the whole lot of them, and practiced playing and marching and moving. They are pretty good. I say this with a completely untrained eye and ear. I never marched. I attempted to play musical instruments, with little success, even though I was stationary in a chair the entire time. I am not musical. I am creative, and gifted in other ways. I can make up alternate lyrics to almost any song (the pitch of the signing is sketchy). I can write simple poems. I write this blog (although I am not sure if that qualifies as "being creative", but I write and people understand what I write. The word on the street is, not everyone can write in a way people understand their message.). Non-musical mom says this marching band is pretty good. Mom who is rather sick of driving back and forth says, "They better be good for all the practicing they do. For all the practicing, they should be marching down the streets of Pasadena on New Year's Day in the blessed Rose Bowl Parade". Sick of driving mom is pretty grouchy, but she has a solid point.
Marching Band, from my rookie marching parent perspective, seems to have a set of rules. Not necessarily written rules, but rules like prison. Unwritten, sometimes unspoken rules, that you must figure out to move seamlessly among the otherinmates marching parents. I am not sure if a veteran marching parent will shiv you for messing up, or breaking a rule, but they may shun you or talk behind your back. (I am a direct kind of girl. I may prefer a shiv between the shoulder blades). Anyway, here are the rules I have surmised thus far:
Marching Band Rules
Marching Band, from my rookie marching parent perspective, seems to have a set of rules. Not necessarily written rules, but rules like prison. Unwritten, sometimes unspoken rules, that you must figure out to move seamlessly among the other
Marching Band Rules
- The band will compete in competitions. When you ask what exactly marching band competitions are, you will be told, "Competitions are so much fun". When you try to get beyond "the fun" aspects, you will be asked to drive several marchers to the competition, and help haul props out on the field for performances. That sounds like work, I am not sure where any fun will be had .
- Practice begins fifteen minutes before the stated time.
- Practice ends ten to fifteen minutes later than the stated time.
- The drums are always playing. Percussionist do not care, they never did. I am curious to see what the walls must look like in a drummer's home. God bless those parents.
- The Marching Band will always be doing some type of fundraiser. I could go on a preach on how the Arts are underfunded, and it is a shame. I could tell you how playing an instrument is connected with higher achievement in math. I won't. I will just try to sell you some festive holiday greenery, or flowers in the spring.
- To be in band your student must purchase shirts indicating their class, their section, and the show they are performing this season in the band. The student will hit up the parents for the money.
- Band Parents are to wear shirts indicating they are part of the marching band.
- Band Parents sit near the band at football games.
- Your marcher will be tired all the time, but still want to attend the frequent, long practices
- You will ALWAYS be able to see your marcher (and they will look the best) even though the goal is for the whole band to blend together as a single moving force.
I know this much to be true of marching band. I alternately hate and love the marching band. When viewing the family calendar and seeing how many days it takes up, or having to go on vacation without my daughter because she was at band camp during the summer, or seeing her blistered feet that she will continue to march upon...I hate it. However, when I hear her talk about the new friendships she has made, and sit in the stands on a Friday night, under the lights and see her take the field playing and moving forward, backward, and side to side whilst playing her clarinet...well, then I really love the marching band. She is learning to use her time wisely, work hard, and be a team player. All of those things will serve her well academically and socially. Sure, I still have to figure out all the marching band rules. I will have to do fundraisers. I will drive the wheels off my car. But maybe, just maybe, someday I will say, Marching Band, RULES!!!
(maybe)
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Back to School: Smooth Criminal Edition
We are all back to school here. My daughter started high school. My son is in fourth grade. I am enrolled in online traffic school. You know a typical day in the life of a smooth criminal. I did not choose the life, it chose me. Actually, I am not sure that being a chronic lead foot makes me an actual criminal. It certainly makes me a scofflaw. It also make me a poor example for my kids who now monitor my speed as if I just learned to drive yesterday. Perhaps if my parents had corrected my "speedy queen" tendencies from an early age I would not be a 40 year woman enrolled in online traffic school to keep the points from being reported. No, I am not going blame my parents, but my dad would say things like, "Give her some gas, we don't have all day" (Technically, we probably did have all day. We lived a rather bucolic little town where not much happened. Clearly, a breeding ground for young speed demons.). He would also encourage passing the elderly in their long, slow sedans, once again because we did not have all day (and it turns out we did). Okay, so I am going to blame my dad a little for my need for speed. However, he does not read this, or even go on computers. (Very funny aside, relating to nothing other than poking fun at my dad. My daughter sent him a text, and he thought it broke his phone because he could not get the words off the screen for 5 minutes.) And to be completely contrary to societal norms, I do not blame my mother at all for my descent into a life of civil infractions. Sorry Mom, like I said earlier, the life chose me!
Back Story: Rule 4 in Action
Rule 4 for Being Human is "The lesson is repeated until learned". (If you are not familiar with The Rules of Being Human click here). Anyway, back in August my daughter needed to get to a clarinet sectional practice. I am obsessed with being on time. In fact, if I am not 5 minutes early...I feel late. Yes, it is a bit OCD (I own that). Anyway, in my quest for her to be on time, which my OCD said needed to be five minutes early, I was driving too fast through a known speed trap. POP. Ticket. Online Traffic School. How did I know it was speed trap? I was pulled over in the same place several years ago. I also see people pulled over there all the time (It is the road I travel to get to my daughter's school and my local Target). So I knew better. My beloved pointed out all of these things to me. I know, but I did not choose the fast life, the fast life chose me! And the universe was going keep teaching me about speeding until I learned.
The worst part was not getting a ticket. I deserved it. This was not my most deserving act of speeding...I have gone much faster. No, the worst part was after I finally dropped my daughter off (seven minutes late), my son said, "You were not going as fast as could have been going".
At that point he truly believed some great injustice had been done to his mom. He did not see me as deserving of a traffic citation. He did not want me punished. He even said. "You are a good fast driver".
Thank you son, I am a good fast driver. And I am still in the wrong. Worse than that, I am a bad role model . Rules are rules. Rules have consequences. In the past I have written letters to get out of tickets, or had them changed to a non-moving violation. Basically, weaseling out of what I actually did wrong. I knew this time I needed to accept what I did. I have accepted the actual consequences for my crime. I paid the fine, and now I am taking a class to learn why my "good fast driving" is not as good as I believed.
My son went with me to the courthouse to pay my ticket. He asked me if I was mad at the police now. (after randomly recalling a song from my youth by the gangster rap group NWA...which is entirely inappropriate) I told him I was the one that messed up, the policeman was just doing his job. It was in the parking lot of the courthouse that my son said he would make sure I never "speeded" again. Now I have a 9 year old parole officer. I report to him daily, and do his laundry.
Online Traffic School
This time I may actually learn that speeding is wrong, because paying the money was easy, but taking an online class is a mild form of torture. The course is a mandatory four hours. It has sections that you read, and then answer 10 questions. No big deal. However, it is all timed. If your read the section in 10 minutes, and the program allotted 30 minutes for that section, you have to go back and review the reading (or file your nails) for 20 more minutes until the questions pop up. It also has these alarming yellow flashing boxes that pop up randomly with questions you need to answer within 10 seconds to prove you are indeed in front of your computer and not taking a shower, vacuuming, or doing much of anything else. It turns out this fast driver is also a fast reader. I could have opted to take an actual class in a classroom that lasted 4 hours. I am pretty sure that would have killed me, or at least killed my spirit. Online I can do a section, take a break, and go back. As long as I finish before October 24, and pass the test with 70% correct answers. Just so you know, my competitive nature will not let me get a 70%. I have thus far earned 100% on all of my modules. In a classroom setting it would have been fun to waive around a few 100% tests (that is the only upside of having actual classmates). I did not choose the nerd life either...(it chose me).
Reforming
Honestly, for the first time in all of my driving years, which is many. I am obeying speed limits. Not because I particularly think that they are right, but because it is a law. We live in a society that needs laws to keep good order. Now it is about being a good example for my kids. I want them to be be good drivers someday, and I am their primary example of driving, so I need to make it good and lawful. (Yes, my beloved drives them places, but not as much as I do) I want to be good role model.
Now back to my Traffic School Modules...
Back Story: Rule 4 in Action
Rule 4 for Being Human is "The lesson is repeated until learned". (If you are not familiar with The Rules of Being Human click here). Anyway, back in August my daughter needed to get to a clarinet sectional practice. I am obsessed with being on time. In fact, if I am not 5 minutes early...I feel late. Yes, it is a bit OCD (I own that). Anyway, in my quest for her to be on time, which my OCD said needed to be five minutes early, I was driving too fast through a known speed trap. POP. Ticket. Online Traffic School. How did I know it was speed trap? I was pulled over in the same place several years ago. I also see people pulled over there all the time (It is the road I travel to get to my daughter's school and my local Target). So I knew better. My beloved pointed out all of these things to me. I know, but I did not choose the fast life, the fast life chose me! And the universe was going keep teaching me about speeding until I learned.
The worst part was not getting a ticket. I deserved it. This was not my most deserving act of speeding...I have gone much faster. No, the worst part was after I finally dropped my daughter off (seven minutes late), my son said, "You were not going as fast as could have been going".
At that point he truly believed some great injustice had been done to his mom. He did not see me as deserving of a traffic citation. He did not want me punished. He even said. "You are a good fast driver".
Thank you son, I am a good fast driver. And I am still in the wrong. Worse than that, I am a bad role model . Rules are rules. Rules have consequences. In the past I have written letters to get out of tickets, or had them changed to a non-moving violation. Basically, weaseling out of what I actually did wrong. I knew this time I needed to accept what I did. I have accepted the actual consequences for my crime. I paid the fine, and now I am taking a class to learn why my "good fast driving" is not as good as I believed.
My son went with me to the courthouse to pay my ticket. He asked me if I was mad at the police now. (after randomly recalling a song from my youth by the gangster rap group NWA...which is entirely inappropriate) I told him I was the one that messed up, the policeman was just doing his job. It was in the parking lot of the courthouse that my son said he would make sure I never "speeded" again. Now I have a 9 year old parole officer. I report to him daily, and do his laundry.
Online Traffic School
This time I may actually learn that speeding is wrong, because paying the money was easy, but taking an online class is a mild form of torture. The course is a mandatory four hours. It has sections that you read, and then answer 10 questions. No big deal. However, it is all timed. If your read the section in 10 minutes, and the program allotted 30 minutes for that section, you have to go back and review the reading (or file your nails) for 20 more minutes until the questions pop up. It also has these alarming yellow flashing boxes that pop up randomly with questions you need to answer within 10 seconds to prove you are indeed in front of your computer and not taking a shower, vacuuming, or doing much of anything else. It turns out this fast driver is also a fast reader. I could have opted to take an actual class in a classroom that lasted 4 hours. I am pretty sure that would have killed me, or at least killed my spirit. Online I can do a section, take a break, and go back. As long as I finish before October 24, and pass the test with 70% correct answers. Just so you know, my competitive nature will not let me get a 70%. I have thus far earned 100% on all of my modules. In a classroom setting it would have been fun to waive around a few 100% tests (that is the only upside of having actual classmates). I did not choose the nerd life either...(it chose me).
Reforming
Honestly, for the first time in all of my driving years, which is many. I am obeying speed limits. Not because I particularly think that they are right, but because it is a law. We live in a society that needs laws to keep good order. Now it is about being a good example for my kids. I want them to be be good drivers someday, and I am their primary example of driving, so I need to make it good and lawful. (Yes, my beloved drives them places, but not as much as I do) I want to be good role model.
Now back to my Traffic School Modules...
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Paperwork
Caution: This post is a rant. If you are here to be inspired or uplifted in anyway, click away now. I am going to rant and complain and generally rally against the forces that be. No good will come of it, but I will feel lighter after laying down this burden upon my lovely readers. Again, click away from this page if you are looking for happy, joyful, and uplifting. She does not live here today.
Okay...I think the Pollyanna Lolly-pop Guild has left the page.
(Rant on)
Paperwork. I hate it. The kind of paperwork I am referring to is the permission slips, camper liability, health forms (especially if they need a doctor's signature), registration for activity forms...all of them. Forms. I hate forms. I HATE FORMS. The information is repetitive, tedious, and annoying. I hate copying the front and back of insurance card to attach to forms. The immunization records that have to be copied and attached, OR even worse, transcribed onto a health form (this is the worst). The older my kids get the more numerous the forms become, the more sheets of paper that get included. It is torture. I have never been water-boarded, but I think if given a choice between filling out forms and the water-board...I might just choose the water-board. Seriously.
My daughter, who is lovely, sweet, and talented has generated a lot of paperwork for me this summer. In fact, I am in the middle of filling out the third set of camp related forms this summer. I stopped filling in forms to write this post. The annoyance was festering. I was about to become crabby with her, but decided to take it out on the keyboard instead. The problem is, there is no real solution to this problem. The camps, schools, and organizations NEED the information in case there is a problem. I get it. I certainly would not send my kid to a camp or activity with just a backpack and a hug good-bye. I really want to be contacted if there is a problem. I certainly want medical attention sought if they are sick or injured. I just am sick of filling out the same information on slightly different forms for each camp or activity. What I really want is universal forms. I want all camps, schools, and activities to have ONE set of forms that satisfies all the groups. Once a year I want to sit down and update the forms, save it to my computer, and then print out the same packet of forms for each organization. Honestly, all camps ask the same questions. A health form is rather standard. Even the waivers for High Ropes Courses are rather standard. No it will not include the school or camp logo letterhead, who cares? I know what I am signing them up to attend. I want and need UNIVERSAL FORMS!!!! Do not tell me it can not be done.
It can be done.
It is possible.
It is my dream.
My beautiful, simple, dream.
A world with less paperwork.
(Rant off)
Okay...I think the Pollyanna Lolly-pop Guild has left the page.
(Rant on)
Paperwork. I hate it. The kind of paperwork I am referring to is the permission slips, camper liability, health forms (especially if they need a doctor's signature), registration for activity forms...all of them. Forms. I hate forms. I HATE FORMS. The information is repetitive, tedious, and annoying. I hate copying the front and back of insurance card to attach to forms. The immunization records that have to be copied and attached, OR even worse, transcribed onto a health form (this is the worst). The older my kids get the more numerous the forms become, the more sheets of paper that get included. It is torture. I have never been water-boarded, but I think if given a choice between filling out forms and the water-board...I might just choose the water-board. Seriously.
My daughter, who is lovely, sweet, and talented has generated a lot of paperwork for me this summer. In fact, I am in the middle of filling out the third set of camp related forms this summer. I stopped filling in forms to write this post. The annoyance was festering. I was about to become crabby with her, but decided to take it out on the keyboard instead. The problem is, there is no real solution to this problem. The camps, schools, and organizations NEED the information in case there is a problem. I get it. I certainly would not send my kid to a camp or activity with just a backpack and a hug good-bye. I really want to be contacted if there is a problem. I certainly want medical attention sought if they are sick or injured. I just am sick of filling out the same information on slightly different forms for each camp or activity. What I really want is universal forms. I want all camps, schools, and activities to have ONE set of forms that satisfies all the groups. Once a year I want to sit down and update the forms, save it to my computer, and then print out the same packet of forms for each organization. Honestly, all camps ask the same questions. A health form is rather standard. Even the waivers for High Ropes Courses are rather standard. No it will not include the school or camp logo letterhead, who cares? I know what I am signing them up to attend. I want and need UNIVERSAL FORMS!!!! Do not tell me it can not be done.
It can be done.
It is possible.
It is my dream.
My beautiful, simple, dream.
A world with less paperwork.
(Rant off)
Monday, April 22, 2013
It IS the Small Stuff
I am sure you have heard the phrase, "Don't sweat the small stuff", occasionally followed up with, "...and it's all small stuff". Well, whoever made up that pearl of wisdom can STFU...right now. Yup. I went there.
The problem with "not sweating the small stuff" means accepting some level of chaos and disorder. Many people live blissfully in chaos and disorder. It is their place, their filthy, messy, loud
Shangri-La. (If you are one of those people, God bless you. Mazel. That is great. I will not be over at 6pm for dinner. Not that it would ready at 6pm anyway) It is not my world. I like order. I will not apologize for enjoying an orderly existence. The small stuff will be sweated over, maybe to the point it is dripping and in need of a shower. Deadlines, due dates, and lists are my reason for being. My question is, How does the small stuff get done if everyone is "not sweating it"? In the past when I have decided to try out this slacker, don't sweat it, way of life the only thing I have found is the small stuff gets bigger. The two loads of laundry I decided to not stay up and wash became four loads of laundry, and family members in need of pants. "Don't sweat the small stuff...who needs pants?". I am here to tell you, It matters. The small stuff matters. People need to eat, and society is not ready for clothing optional people to be mainstreamed (and we live in Michigan...not a great place for accidental nudists).
My point is...the small stuff matters and it needs to get done.
My rant is...the hippie bastards that say, "Don't sweat the small stuff...and its all small stuff" need to be flogged with an organic cotton sock filled with their own freshly churned butter.
Yes, all the things are small, but there are so many small things that need to be done all at once to make life livable for those of us that can not see beyond, or cope with, disorder and chaos. Laundry, dinner, lunches, picking up from practices, dropping off at friends, school stuff, volunteer stuff, cleaning, writing, lesson planning, grocery shopping...the list goes on. All of those things need to be managed. It requires planning and order for everything to go off without a hitch. Even with all the planning, s*** happens, and then plan B has to happen, or plan C (I really sweat when it gets to plan C, because I seldom have plan D, so I am up a creek without a paddle if plan C fails). Yes, it's all small stuff. Nothing life threatening. None the less, if you are a planner and do-er who likes the machine well oiled...the small stuff is what gets you. I get that.
If you sweat the small stuff, that is okay.
If you like to plan, that is okay.
If you hate clutter and chaos, that is okay.
If you want to violently shake those laid back fools that never concern themselves with details, and seem to rejoice in chaos, and just let life happen to them, STOP...that is assault. You will go to jail.
Take comfort in knowing, I will be sweating the small, medium, and large stuff. You are in fine company.
The problem with "not sweating the small stuff" means accepting some level of chaos and disorder. Many people live blissfully in chaos and disorder. It is their place, their filthy, messy, loud
Shangri-La. (If you are one of those people, God bless you. Mazel. That is great. I will not be over at 6pm for dinner. Not that it would ready at 6pm anyway) It is not my world. I like order. I will not apologize for enjoying an orderly existence. The small stuff will be sweated over, maybe to the point it is dripping and in need of a shower. Deadlines, due dates, and lists are my reason for being. My question is, How does the small stuff get done if everyone is "not sweating it"? In the past when I have decided to try out this slacker, don't sweat it, way of life the only thing I have found is the small stuff gets bigger. The two loads of laundry I decided to not stay up and wash became four loads of laundry, and family members in need of pants. "Don't sweat the small stuff...who needs pants?". I am here to tell you, It matters. The small stuff matters. People need to eat, and society is not ready for clothing optional people to be mainstreamed (and we live in Michigan...not a great place for accidental nudists).
My point is...the small stuff matters and it needs to get done.
My rant is...the hippie bastards that say, "Don't sweat the small stuff...and its all small stuff" need to be flogged with an organic cotton sock filled with their own freshly churned butter.
Yes, all the things are small, but there are so many small things that need to be done all at once to make life livable for those of us that can not see beyond, or cope with, disorder and chaos. Laundry, dinner, lunches, picking up from practices, dropping off at friends, school stuff, volunteer stuff, cleaning, writing, lesson planning, grocery shopping...the list goes on. All of those things need to be managed. It requires planning and order for everything to go off without a hitch. Even with all the planning, s*** happens, and then plan B has to happen, or plan C (I really sweat when it gets to plan C, because I seldom have plan D, so I am up a creek without a paddle if plan C fails). Yes, it's all small stuff. Nothing life threatening. None the less, if you are a planner and do-er who likes the machine well oiled...the small stuff is what gets you. I get that.
If you sweat the small stuff, that is okay.
If you like to plan, that is okay.
If you hate clutter and chaos, that is okay.
If you want to violently shake those laid back fools that never concern themselves with details, and seem to rejoice in chaos, and just let life happen to them, STOP...that is assault. You will go to jail.
Take comfort in knowing, I will be sweating the small, medium, and large stuff. You are in fine company.
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