Beyond clean…

dirty

It’s funny how different people can define a concept in so many unique ways.

Take the concept of clean, for example. As in “A clean room”.

To my teen, this is a very loose concept, a fluid term, can’t be pinned down to any rigid standard…. certainly not by any standards of mine that might include Windex or a vacuum cleaner.

No…

His clean is so unstructured, so free…. free of the materialistic burden of bedspreads and dirty socks, free of the narrow-minded idea that toothpaste on the sink could ever be “unclean”. Indeed, the toothpaste is clean. The sink is clean. Together, they can only be MORE clean.

He must be evolving, my small mind tries to understand.

dirty

I struggle with it.

I’m sure it’s my own fault. My faulty reasoning, that of an adult whose only remaining dream is to walk into his room without being disgusted.

I cracked today. Vacuumed up things that didn’t seem to belong on the floor by my antiquated reasoning. Toenails, fingernails, I don’t know what that other stuff is…..

Felt a small measure of peace, probably destroyed an ecosystem he was painstakingly trying to create.

Oh, I’m sure I will remain an embarrassment. Not enlightened enough to see beyond my superficial concept of clean. I hope he can forgive me one day, and learn to somehow live with my primitive addiction to Pine-sol and Clorox wipes.

….not so evolved……

 

 

Sick day benefits

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dreamstime.com

I’ve been sick for days and days…stabbing headache, sinus pressure, loads of mucous, dry/sore throat and general feelings of yuckiness.

I should have known what was coming….

Yesterday as I pulled up in the car line for Sammy to get in after school, I got a glimpse of him standing outside. Good lord, he looked like a zombie. Pasty faced and grimacing, he got into the car. “What is WRONG?”

“I don’t feel good…..” was his whispery, croaked response. And he promptly fell asleep within 10 seconds.

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So began our weekend. Highlights include a surprise puke appearance all over my comforter about 12am…. and puke returning for a cameo spot around 4am which I caught in the bucket with nary a drop spilled. YES!

He required carrying and babying….which I was happy to do. This morning he walked into the kitchen and gazed at me adoringly. Started telling me that he loves me so much, and thinks about me every day at school. He loves me even when I’m mean, and won’t let him play with his kindle. It has continued all day, all requests peppered with “please, thank you, I love you, I’m never going to stop loving you”.

He has a fever, but certainly not high enough for brain damage. I think this is just one of the nice little side effects of when this particular child gets sick… I’ll take it 🙂

 

 

 

 

Our first Elf on a shelf

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He came in a box last month, courtesy of my mom. The kids opened it, and read the story, quickly naming our family elf “Moe”

They couldn’t wait for him to start “spying” on them, so we put him to work right away.

elf

elf2

It became clear to me, very quickly…. the elf started too soon. There was no way I could keep this up for over 2 months, what was I thinking!?

So we sent Moe on a vacation to help Santa in the North Pole. While he’s gone, I need to figure out ways to up the game. I have ideas for this elf, thanks to the internet and especially Pinterest.

When Moe comes back, no more just sitting and watching. He’s going to be an active elf.

Candy Crazed

Shaving

These scout elves are rolling right into the holidays! #ElfReturnWeek | Elf on the Shelf Ideas:

These are just some ideas from Pinterest….and I need to come up with some more of my own. I was surprised by how excited the kids were about our elf, almost making me feel as though I’ve cheated them in years past by just watching them and threatening to tell Santa myself…. They must think the elf will be more of a pushover.

Stay tuned…

Return of the Tooth Fairy

tooth

So this happened today at school. See that gap at the bottom? Wasn’t there this morning.

We had him at the dentist about a month ago, she noticed that tooth was just a bit loose, not enough to think about. Over the past 2 weeks, he’s noticed it more and more.

At first, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. We were in the grocery store, and he brings up how the loose tooth means he’s getting older. Which  leads him to thoughts of his mortality….asking me if this means he’s getting “old” now with a stricken look on his face…. I promised him at 5 years old he’s still pretty close to brand new, not close at all to getting old.

And then came the perpetual tongue wiggling, working at that loose tooth. The inability to chew food for some reason, because now all of the sudden he wants to eat like a beaver. I had to remind him he doesn’t chew in the front of his mouth so it really shouldn’t be a problem.

Brushing teeth has been fun, with him flinching and pulling away if I get near that tooth…

Yesterday night he showed me how the tooth comes all the way up in the back, but was pretty well anchored in the front. I figured we had some time left, and didn’t want to try pulling it and making him bleed or hurt. I was really saving that job for my dad, the family tooth-puller. No matter how many times it happened, he ALWAYS tricked me into “just letting him wiggle it”, which of course led to a quick bloody yank and me feeling tricked and somewhat relieved to have it over.

Today, I picked him up from school and I could see the gap as he walked to the car, smiling.

Oh No!!! I missed it! I wasn’t there for the first lost tooth!  Then I felt even more cheated when the teacher told me the tooth somehow went missing as they were walking outside. They did their best to look for it, showing me two jagged pieces of some enamel colored objects, possibly bits of stone or tooth they managed to find in the parking lot. It didn’t look like the tooth I remembered sitting is his mouth yesterday…. so I let her keep it.

He didn’t seem too upset. I didn’t tell him I still have teeth saved from the older kids, and now all I have from him are his first hair clippings. I am sad although future generations will be glad they have one less weird thing to throw out as they sort through my belongings posthumously.

But lets look on the bright side. The tooth fairy is coming back from her extended vacation, ready to surprise and delight with gifts of money and possibly little notes of encouragement in exchange for lost teeth. In this case, of lost, lost teeth… she’s willing to cut us a break.

toothfairy.org

toothfairy.org

Paris or bust

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I don’t like to ask for things for myself. Not for Christmas, not for birthdays. It always makes me feel guilty or presumptuous to tell someone I want something and expect them to get it for me.

You will realize then, what a strange and unusual thing it was for me to ask for something for my birthday this year. It wasn’t much really, just……Paris. I’ve expressed my love for the place before.  I miss the sights, the smells, the moon in the sky over the Champs de Elysee. It’s been sooooo long since we’ve been there, my memories have taken on a dreamlike quality, I need to know if it’s as magical as I believe it was. My birthday fell during our first trip to France years ago, early in our relationship. To me, celebrating again with him and our kids would be a beautiful way to show how far our relationship has progressed.

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A birthday to remember

A birthday to remember

I started my campaign early…. sometime last year. I wasn’t subtle about it, instead painting a picture of celebrating my 40th in front of the Eiffel tower with him and the kids. For me, the timeline to getting back to France was all about potty training…and I was gambling that Jenna would be done by now. Husband had different criteria, like the kids being older with more endurance for days of walking all over the city. He wants to be able to do all the things we did before they came along…..do I have the heart to tell him that it will NEVER be like that again? No….he can find it out on his own….

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Well, it didn’t happen. I didn’t win the argument, and he seems to think that celebrating 41, or even 42 would be just as special over there as my 40th. I would have liked to do a comparative study and test that theory but alas, it is not to be. C’est la vie…..

So, tonight we went to dinner with some family and friends. They have been making a huge effort to get us out expressly to celebrate my birthday and it has taken this long for it to work out. The longer time goes on, the more uncomfortable I get, feeling guilty that people feel the need to make this effort to celebrate for me at all.

Dinner was nice, the food and company both satisfying and smile-inducing.

Then came the cake….

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I could not believe anyone paid that much attention to my babblings about how much I liked Paris. It was really touching that someone went out of their way to give me a version of something they knew I wanted.

So in a way….I got what I was asking for. My family with me to celebrate my birthday near the Eiffel tower….

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And even better? They all thought I was just turning 39. 🙂

The great escape

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Conclusion of the Roommate Saga…..

So the daughter had been waiting, and waiting to get assigned to a new room at college. In the meantime, the relationship between her and the roommate deteriorates. No longer speaking much, avoiding each other…. and my kid still hasn’t figured out how to stand up for herself.

Last straw for me, hearing about the most recent passive aggressive dispute over printer ink and Ramen noodles. It’s time to move out! Rachel finally, FINALLY responded to a bitchy comment in a semi-bitchy way (over text), and was then trying to figure out how to avoid the girl indefinitely as it is impossible for her to participate in a conflict in person.

The straw that broke the camels back......

The straw that broke the camels back……

She has a friend with a room available to share. Both girls have submitted their request to housing to live with each other. It seems like weeks have gone by, probably because they have…. and still no word. She calls housing again to find out that “the person who makes those decisions is gone until the middle of next week”.

So I made a decision last night. I’ve listened to this long enough. It’s killing me that she isn’t at least standing up for herself. She is allowing someone to literally bully her for NOT sleeping around and getting wasted regularly. She is giving someone power over her feelings and thoughts, someone who continues to make bad and self destructive choices herself.

I called housing this morning.

I didn’t rant or rave. I did say that I found it hard to believe no one else could authorize a room change for yet another week, forcing my daughter to live in conditions I wasn’t comfortable with. Seems like SOMEONE could give a quick OK.

It was that easy. Within hours they had called my daughter and her friend and given the ok to move her things.

So she escaped.

Yes, I do feel like I caved, but I also think it’s ok. She’s still a kid, only 18. Geez, I didn’t learn how to channel my inner bitchiness until well into my 20’s…. she’ll get there. 😉

Homework is painful for everyone

This is a big fat lie.

This is a big fat lie. Or they are drugged.

A lesson in 5  year old comprehension.

Believe it or not, Sammy has homework in Kindergarten. Things have sure changed since I was in school…..

Tonight he had to read 3 paragraphs, and then follow the very specific directions afterwards to test his comprehension.

First story was about a kid who likes going to the park. That was the first sentence, “I like going to the park.” This was followed by the things that he could do (swing and slide), and the things he had trouble doing (monkey bars). He asked his parents to take him to the park…..they are taking him on Saturday.

I know this, because it’s burned into my brain. I will never forget that he likes the park, and the slide, and the swing, and the monkey bars. I know he is going on Saturday. I will carry that knowledge with me forever.

Sammy stumbles through the paragraph. He is only 5…. I still have to help with some words. Invariably, by the time he is finished, much of what he has read is lost. I guess that’s the point of this exercise, to help with retention and comprehension.

First question to answer after the reading: “Where does the boy like to go?”

Sammy ponders….. “The playground!”

No. There is no playground. Now that you know the question, start reading again and see if you can find the answer.

Guys. He literally read that paragraph 3 times. And came up with 3 different answers… none of which were “the park”.

And this is how I know for sure, without a doubt…. I was not cut out for teaching.

I would not give him the answer…. but I was dying, at first inside…but my suffering did spill out for everyone to see. It went on, we had to circle things with a red crayon, underline with a blue crayon, box things with a purple crayon. So many steps, so difficult for me to hold back from just TELLING him what to do.

We got through it. I really think we both need points for this one.

reality.

reality.

DO NOT CALL

Everythings A-OK here.....

Everything’s A-OK here…..

I was in the process of sleeping in this morning. I was dreaming. Braiding hair and something about a college cafeteria….and a funeral….. suddenly interrupted.

BRII-IIING,  BRI-IIIING!!!!!

I leap out of bed, assuming it’s a fax, already cursing it’s sender.

It’s not a fax. I answer the call from a local number that I don’t recognize. A woman, very awake and businesslike asks for me. Assuming it’s still somehow work related, and frantically trying to assure myself that it’s Saturday, I acknowledge that it’s me.

Then…a fast worded spiel starts…. I hear the words breast cancer research….fund raiser….. and it’s impossible for me to interrupt. It’s a RECORDING!!  I press some random buttons, the call stops. I hang up.

It’s 8:14am

Normally, I’m up for hours by now. But not on Saturday. Saturday it’s my goal to stay IN BED and wake up on my own, or more frequently by one of the kids wanting to go downstairs and start the day. For some reason, everyone was still sleeping, so this was a golden morning. I would have been happy to realize that when I woke up later…but  that dream was stolen from me.

Impotent with rage.

I can’t even unload my anger onto the shoulders of the person calling me, Daring to call that early on a weekend…because they’ve been so abused by people like me….normal people…. that they’ve turned to recorded messages that sound like they aren’t recordings. Until you try to interrupt.

No satisfaction of at least ruining someone else’s morning anymore.

I sound mean, right? But it’s a pavlovian response. We barely use the home phone. So when it rings, I know it’s usually a crap call… the sound brings on anger and frustration even before I look at the caller ID.

I checked out the guidelines today about telemarketing calling hours.

http://www.consumer.ftc.gov/articles/0198-telemarketing-sales-rule

Calls are ok between 8am and 9pm, no mention of a break on weekends. And, even with my number on the do not call list, I can and will still receive calls from charities, political organizations, and surveys. Oh, and any organization I’ve had a relationship with can call for 18 months after my last purchase or delivery, even if I’m on the list. Any company I make a credit inquiry with…can call for 3 months.

Really frustrating to know this. Last presidential election, we were harassed with phone calls and recordings to the point that I swore to people I wouldn’t vote for their candidate because their incessant calls drove me to hate them.

I hate it. HATE IT.

One exception.

There is this cute sounding little lady who calls….for Purple Hearts. When she calls, the rage disappears, and I am ever so polite as she arranges for me to leave bags of clothes and household items at the front door. I just can’t be mean to her, maybe because she’s a real human.

Bottom line… my time at home is mine. I don’t like it wasted or interrupted. If I want to donate my money, or blood, or vote…I will figure out how to do it. Don’t call me. I hate you.

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Proof of her love

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Fall weather in Ohio is really tricky…… getting the weather to cooperate for all the pumpkin festivals and hayrides can be a challenge.

Take this past Friday. We really wanted to check out Mapleside Farms during the fall festivities. The kids play area, the huge jumping thing, the apple fritters, donuts, and other artery clogging delights. But most of all, I wanted to go down the slide. It looked so fun! A super long, multi-lane slide that you can race your friends down as you sit on your burlap sack. I fantasized about the awesome family pictures I would take as we laughed and zoomed down.

Friday came and it was cold, but DRY. I had winter coats, hats, gloves. I had cash for donuts. I was ready.

My sister, my awesome sister met us there.

As I drove and parked, I marveled at how sunny it was. We walked in, saw the crowd of people lined up for the slide… Sammy was not ready to wait in line, he wanted to head to the playground first.

Ok, fine…we have plenty of time for the slide.

As the kids are playing, I see my sister walking in. Perfect timing!

And then it starts raining.

A drizzle turned into something more…. we had to hide inside the apple store to wait it out.

Afterwards, it was a lot colder outside, and a lot darker. The sun wasn’t coming back. We ate a little something, as I bitched about wasting almost $50 just to get wristbands, only to be rained out within 15 minutes.

We decided we at least had to do the slide before going home.

Well, look… no line! Seemed like the perfect time for us to go after all. Once we got closer, I realized how long it was….  We also realized why no one else was in line. It was pretty wet. The guys handing out burlap sacks to sit on were blunt about it.

“You’re going to get wet”.

My optimistic sister seems to think the bags will soak up the water. They shake their heads at her.  “Oh no, there’s way too much water on that slide. Your GONNA get wet.”

I look down at my pants, and notice that even with the sun not shining, we have plenty of daylight left. I don’t feel like walking around looking like I peed myself. I’m ready to turn around.

The kids by this time wanted to go down the slide, but I was really ok with disappointing them to avoid a cold, soggy butt.

My sister jumps in and offers to slide in my place. No hesitation. I know she hasn’t been drinking, she came right from work. She must be in her right mind.

Ok. Knock yourself out!

So she takes them to the top. Settles Jenna on her lap, and Sammy next to her. His coat was actually long enough to sit on to keep his own bottom dry. I take video and pictures as they slide down, laughing just like I imagined.

Of course she got wet. But she took them two more times, with nary a complaint about it. I love my sister, braving the cold, the crowds, and the questioning looks from strangers as she proudly walked around after their trip down the slide. She risked damage to her pride, and the potential for awkward chafing to show my kids a good time.

Thanks little sister!!

down the slide!!

Old enough for a mammogram

Man on top of mountain.

It’s that time of year again….. time for me to take a look at where I’m standing on this hill.

Oh, look….. I’m at the top!!

What really brought it home for me was a conversation I had with my friend today. She’s a year older than me. Somehow she mentions the word “mammogram”. As in, she hasn’t had one yet and hey, why don’t we do it at the same time to kind of force each other to get it done….then go eat lunch or something.

Blink.

Mammogram???  You must be thinking of someone else. I’m still in my 30’s.

Talk to me in 10 days.