Honest Scrap

 I was given this “award” by my favorite blogger who happens to also be my “Aunt” Kristin.  Along with it comes the requirement that I list 10 things about myself.   I think I am going to have a hard time coming up with 10 very honest things about myself, but I am willing to give it a shot!  This may take me a few days to ponder, but here it goes:

1.  I think not finishing my degree is the biggest regret of my life.  At the time, graduation seemed so far off, and so unnecessary that I just gave up.  It was easier to get a full time job and get all of the things I thought I absolutely needed at the time.  Now, I have no job and no degree and I am forty years old and I still don’t have all of the things I thought I needed or wanted.  I have always been someone that needs to learn the lessons in life the hardest way possible and this was no exception.

2.  When I look at my kids, I wonder what in the world I did right to get them.   They are my pride and joy and someday, I hope I can put into words what they mean to me, how they saved me from myself.  While other people are getting rich, working hard at a career to get their reward, I know deep inside, I already have mine. 

3.  I have always thought I was overweight, even in high school.  I have never, ever been happy with my body.  Now, when I look at my pictures from high school, I think I have a very distorted body image!  I was thin and cute and oh, how I wish I appreciated it back in the 80’s!  I would give anything to look like that again.

4.  I honestly think, scratch that, KNOW I have a 6th sense.  I am sure it was inherited from my Grandma Rhey.  She had a 6th sense as well.  Some people think I am wacky when I say this, but if you lived with me, you would be a believer.  It has taken my husband many, many years to admit it, but he is now convinced.  I can tell when things are going to happen.  Often.  Sometimes my visions are extremely random, like I will just know I am going to run into someone at the grocery store, and sure enough I do.  Other times it is something heart wrenching and scary.  When we got on the plan to Vegas, I knew we would never see Rob again.  I knew it.  When the phone rang, no one even needed to tell me.

5.  On a daily basis, I worry.  I worry that someone in my family is going to get hurt, get sick or worse.  I wish I could let my kids go on a bike ride and actually feel okay about it.  I get butterflies in my stomach and worry the entire 15 minutes that they are gone.

6.  The older I get, the more I dislike Christmas.  I know, it sounds scroogey and I of course don’t let on to my kids that I dislike it, but I really, really do.  For many reasons.  First, I am not very religious and it may come as a surprise to some, but Christmas is a religious holiday.   I do consider myself spiritual and I do pray and talk to God, but we are not church goers and part of me feels a little guilty for celebrating Christmas on such a grand scale.  Second, I hate the commercialism.   It irks me when I hear people talk of the exorbitantly expensive things they buy their kids for Christmas.  I hate the greed.  I get sick when some of my kids’ friends call my kids and want to know how manypresents they  received.  Not “Merry Christmas.  I am glad you are my friend”  not “did you get something that was a surprise”  but how many did you get?  That makes me really sad.   It makes me scared for the future, really. 

7.  When Dicky and I got married, we got a dog.  It was my idea.  I always had a dog growing up, and I thought we needed a dog in our young marriage.  I found a puppy at the humane society and brought her home.  We loved her, but of course we were never home and the poor dog never got much attention.  We gave her to a co-worker of mine that had two boys because we thought the dog needed some kids to romp and play with.  The dog ended up biting one of the kids, and he needed a lot of staples to close the wounds.  In his face.  I still feel terrible about that, fifteen years later.  Once we had kids, we got another dog.  I knew in my heart it was the wrong dog for us, but did not have the heart to say no.  I disliked that dog a great deal.  She shed so badly, I needed to vacuum twice a day.  She never greeted us at the door, she constantly knocked boy #2 down as he was just a toddler learning to walk and she and I never bonded.  She had bathroom issues and after about the gazillionth time of cleaning up dog crap in my house, I had enough and she went too.  For many years, I was really down on myself.  I thought I was a terrible person.  What kind of human does not like dogs?  Why did I suddenly turn into this evil, dog hating person?  I swore off dogs forever and ever.  Then boy #1 begged.  And begged.  And begged.  “We’re boys…we are supposed to grow up witha dog”  he would plead.  I studied breeds for about a year.  I took a test to match a breed with my alpha female personality.  A Toy Fox Terrier came up as an 88% match.  Hmp.  Never heard of them.  Found one.  125 miles away.  Bought him.   As cheesy and melodramatic as it sounds, I cannot imagine my life, or my kids life without this little 8.5 lb creature.  He has made me a better person and I can honestly say, he is truly one of my best friends.  He knows when I am sad, he knows when I need a hug and he is always right beside me.   I love him.  Also, when my parents moved away, my Mom gave me a box with all of my childhood things in it.  Newspaper clippings, kindergarten art projects and things like that.  Included was my baby book and for the first time, I read it cover to cover.  My Mom was so good about journaling and making note of little things I said or did.  On almost every single page, she wrote about how much I loved our dog, Kelly.  She wrote about me laying on the floor, covering the Irish Setter with kisses and hugging her constantly, wanting to be next to her all of the time.  When I read “Teenie is such a dog lover and loves Kelly more than anything” it made me cry.  I felt better about myself and it justified to me that I really am not a terrible dog hater, I just needed an 8.5 lb Toy Fox Terrier to bring out the best!

8.  Now that both of my Grandma’s are gone, I miss them so much.   I wish I would have taken the time to know them better, to really sit down and talk about their past, their youth.  When your young, you don’t always think about those kind of things.  About a year before my Grandma Joyce passed away, I started going to play Bingo with her, every Sunday.  I wish I started earlier.  There are many things I wish I could have asked her.  One month before she died, my Mom and I took her to Vegas.  We went over Mothers Day weekend and for the rest of my life, I will remember that trip.  Life is short.

9.  I have a bucket list of things I want to do or accomplish in my lifetime.  Some of the things on the list are silly but some area really meaningful to me and I can only hope that I will be successful in achieving most of them.

10.  As much as I love my kids, I don’t always think that I am a great mother.  I wish I listened more, took more time to just sit and be.  I wish I could just relax and enjoy being with them instead of asking them if they made their bed and brushed their teeth.

So there it is.  10 Honest truths about me.  I am supposed to now nominate another blogger and I would if I knew anyone else that blogged.  Aunt Kristin already did her list, and my friend Dana is saving Africa right now and I think she probably has more important things going on.  Although I am almost old enough to be her mother, Dana is one of my favorite people.  I can only hope that my kids turn out a smidge like her.  Check out her blog here. Dana in Kenya  She is an amazing young lady!

Things that make me go “Hmmmmm…”

Although I am currently not working, I feel like I am so busy that instead of blogging, I blog daily in my head and make mental notes of things that I want to write about, then I forget about them until something else pops up and then I remember the long list of  blog worthy material and I continue to add.   And so it goes. Not very productive, I know but that is the way it is!

A few weeks ago,  Dicky and I went on a long walk along the lakefront.  We live in a beautiful area and are lucky enough to have the shore of Lake Michigan in our backyard.  There is nothing more peaceful then walking along the path and listening to the boats and the waves.  We really enjoy it.  As we walked, we approached a very plain looking woman with frizzy black hair wearing glasses that were too big for her face and a tattered tie dyed sweatshirt.  She was walking a large standard sized poodle (ewwww) and was stopped while the dog was doing her business.  When we got closer, we heard the lady talking to the dog.  Now, that is not so strange, as a lot of people talk to their dogs, me included, but as we walked directly passed her, she looked up at us and giggled a little.  She then said, “Ohhh…she just had the most beautiful bowel movement!”  I looked over at Mr. T. ..And then I gagged.  We could not believe what we just heard.  It stunned me into silence and as anyone in my family would attest to, just discussing something like that will make my eyes start to water and I will start feeling like I just might throw up.  I had to put it out of my head for the remainder of the walk for fear that I just might lose my lunch right there on the sidewalk.  What a strange lady.  What in the world is her life like if she finds such beauty in such a vile, disgusting thing?  Hmmmmm…..

Global warming.  The whole topic makes me cringe a bit.  I am not so sure I have an opinion either way, but right now in the state of Wisconsin, I am pretty sure there is no such thing.  Last night at the fire works, we all wore jeans, sweatshirts and had a blanket.  The kids were amused by the fact that they could actually see their breath!  In July!  If there is such a thing as global warming, why is it so freakin’ cold in July?  Ya see what I mean??  I don’t get it!  Hmmmmm…..

I did it.  I was actually that Mom.  I marched in two parades yesterday with Boy #1 and his band.  I wore the band t-shirt and had two squirt bottles filled with ice water to squirt the kids as we marched.  Luckily, it was a global warming mild 65 degrees with overcast skies so no one fainted or got so overheated in their black polyesther pants with long sleeve, heavy polyester coat.  It was a lot of fun and I enjoyed it more than I thought I would.  There are  some overbearing parents that never were in band and are now living vicariously through there kids and like to be in charge.  Of everything.   I get so amused at their sense of importance.  I so enjoy these functions, not only to hang out with my very cool, trombone playing kid, but to also people watch some of these parents.    All in all, the day was great and the band kids are for the most part, really great kids.  I only had a few sitting with me in the back of the band bus that made me feel like I wish I had a roll of duct tape.  You know, if I could get away with it, I may have taped a few mouths shut.  One boy in particular was soannoying.  I wondered where his mom was?  Is he so rude and disruptive all of the time, or only when his parents are no where in sight?  Does  his mother know he acts like this?  I think every kid that behaves in such a matter should be required to bring a parent on every single field trip.   Or maybe they know their kid is obnoxious and they stay far away on purpose?  Hmmmm…..

I love the Fourth of July.  I love what it means.  Essentially, I love all birthdays and America’s birthday is no different.  I love red, white and blue, I love fireworks, I love sparklers and I love picnics.  So after the long day of marching in two parades and after a quick stop for an ice cream cone,  Boy #1 and I came home, took showers and started to pack up for our night.  I made a huge picnic of sandwiches, fruit, crackers and cheese, pickles, dip, and even jello.  We loaded up my picnic cooler with very cute plates and utensils, a few ice packs and juice boxes for the kids.  Mr. T. loaded another cooler with “juice boxes” for the adults.  We put the bug spray, a blanket, a football and frisbee and lawn chairs in the wagon and we were on our way.  We went to the lakefront where there was live music and we staked out our spot.  We had a great dinner, just the four of us and listened to patriotic music.  When we finished our picnic, the boys started playing football and I got some great action shots of the fun.  It is such a good feeling to see and hear my children play a game together and get along with each other.  They were so happy and it made me so happy.  Here are some fun photos of the night:

 

We had such a nice time, even though it was freezing!  Once the fireworks were over, we started packing up the lawn chairs, coolers and blakets and loaded up the wagon to head for home.  It was dark, but I noticed my boys picking up some trash.  At first, I thought they were our cans, but I knew that we did not drink that much!  Boy #1 had an arm full of cans and bottles.  He proceeded to walk to the overflowing trash can and dumped them all in.  I did not say anything, but was touched that my kid was kind enough and cared enough clean up a mess, even though it did not belong to us.  As we walked home, we chatted about people littering the park and my boy said to me, “ I think it is really sad that a twelve year old and a nine year old have to clean up after a bunch of adults, who should know better.”   I agreed with him and I was also really proud at that moment that they were my kids.   How is it that two kids are more concerned with their neighborhood park than the adults that were also there?  Hmmmmm……

And finally, today is Mr. T.’s Birthday.  His 40th Birthday!  Although we celebrated earlier this week, I think the actual birthday needs to be recognized as well, so the boys and I will make a cake and we will have a late lunch together.  Both kids have baseball games tonight, so Mr. T. will spend his 40th birthday coaching his kids.  I think there is no better way to spend it, don’t ya think?

Storms, sewers and Mikey the Plumber

So much has happened in the last few weeks that I thought I better get blogging before I forget details and lose them completely.  Since all of the boys have been off of school, I have found it harder to find the time to sit down and start writing.  Not that we have been outside enjoying the summer weather because here in our neck of the woods, it has been cold, rainy, cloudy, foggy, damp, windy….did I say rainy?

Ahh yes, the rain!  I don’t keep track of weather statistics but I am sure this past weekend, SE Wisconsin has set a new record.  It had rained most of the week off and on.  I have not had to actually water my flowers but maybe once since we planted in mid May.  We get so much rain, that I actually think some of my pots are getting too much water!  Friday night was met with a cancelled baseball game (AGAIN!  At this rate, the kids will be playing ball in October due to the many, many make up games that are in our future!) and a storm like no other storm.

I had long standing plans with one of my best friends for dinner that night.  She was in town from Naperville and I had not seen her since Christmas.  I had looked forward to it all week and could not wait to see her, catch up and have a drink.  Julie was my maid of honor in my wedding and I have been friends with her since, I think, kindergarten!  As a matter of fact, I cannot ever remember my life without her in it!

We talked earlier in the day and the plan was to go out around 7:30 PM. At about 5:30, the clouds started to get darker.  By 6:00, the tornado sirens started to go off, not once but twice.  If you knew me and my kids, you would know that the sound of a tornado siren puts all three of us right over the edge.  There were tears and some quick gathering of pillows and blankets and we trodded off to the basement after I very quickly shut windows and doors.  We pleaded with Mr. T. to come with us to the basement.  He looked at us like we were nuts and said he was not about to leave the living room where the Cubs were in extra innings with a tie score.   I had visions of a tornado touching down and the kids and I being safe and the rescue crews finding my husband strewn somewhere in a Cubs hat and t-shirt clinging to the remote.

Once the sirens quieted, the rain came.  I have never in my forty years of life seen anything like it.  The tree tops seemed to bend in two and the rain came down not in drops, not in buckets but more like sheets.  It was a wall of water.  The street was flooded in a matter of minutes, the lights flickered off and on a few times and I had a TV (not the one with the Cubs game on!) tuned to my favorite weather man, John Malan.  By 6:30, the tornado warning had been cancelled and once we heard that, my sweet little Collin announced that suddenly his stomach did not hurt anymore and he felt really, really happy!

My friend John Malan announced that SE Wisconsin had severe flooding and there were cars stranded and the interstate was shut down.  I tinkered with the idea of canceling my plans for the night, just for the fact that the street was swimming in water, it was still pouring and my kiddies, although not crying and huddled in the basement, were still a little unsettled.  I knew I could not count on Mr. T. to be of any source of comfort to the boys, after all the Cubs at that point were in the 12th inning!

The rain had slowed, everyone seemed OK with the idea of me going out, so Julie and I agreed that we would keep our plan and head out, just a little later than the original plan.  I went to the bathroom to wash my face, fix my hair and put some makeup on and Mr. T. went to the basement to grab some frozen pizza from the freezer for boys night!  The kids love it when I go out because, as they say, Daddy lets them watch movies that Mommy thinks might be inappropriate.  They were excited that they were going to be sitting on the living room floor eating pizza, drinking soda and watching Pirates of the Caribbean : At Worlds End.  If I were going to be home, we would have watched a rated G Disney movie!

I was in the bathroom with suds all over my face when I hear ” UHH, HONEY!!  WE HAVE A PROBLEM!”   The tone in Mr. T.’s voice was not that we were out of pepperoni pizza and he would have to settle for just cheese, not that the Cubs lost in 13 innings, ( they actually won that night in 13 innings!) but something a little more serious.  I dried my face, walked to the basement steps and I did not even have to look.  I could hear.  I could hear the sound of Mr. T’s flip flops wading through water.  At that point, I was not too panicked.  We usually get a little water in the basement with heavy rain.  A small puddle from slight seepage near the west basement wall that is easily taken care of.

When I got to the bottom of the steps, I think I stopped breathing for a minute or two.  There was not a puddle.  There was a small lake.  And this was not a crystal clear lake, it was a murky, STINKY lake.  And the water was not trickling from the wall on the west side, it was coming up from the sewer.  I immediately pulled up my pant legs and waded through to get some irreplaceable items like baby pictures, scrap books, gifts that the kids made for me in preschool for Mothers Day.  All of those things that can never be replaced were down in my basement.  In cardboard boxes.  Most of our precious things were safe as they were stored against walls and the water was coming from the center drain.  I grabbed what I could, handed things off to the kids who were perched on the steps and we formed our own bucket brigade.  I quickly called Julie and told her I had to cancel our plans.  Her Dad chirped some advice in the backround and I immediately heeded his words.  I called the city right away, not knowing what they could possibly do.  The city worker assured me I called the right place, he would put me on the list and dispatch a truck to our house.  Then we waited.  And waited.  And waited some more.  After several calls to the city water and sewer department and being told the same thing each time I called, ‘We will get there as soon as we can”  Mr. T. and I put the kids to bed, sat on the couch and watched TV in silence.  At about 1:00AM we decided to call it a night.  At that point, we didn’t care, we were so exhausted.  I thought it might be morning before the city showed up.  At 3:00 AM, I heard the truck pull up.  I woke Mr. T. up, he quickly got dressed and by the time he made it to the front door, the city workers were gone!   I was furious because we were under the impression that they would come into the house, go to the basement and make everything all better.  I was wrong.  Apparently, they survey the sewer in the street before coming into the home.  If it is determined that the city sewer system is over worked, then there is nothing they can do in the basement.  I only wish someone would have told me that at 9:00PM so I didn’t waste so much time waiting!

So on Saturday, our work began.  I called a few plumbers that specialized in sewer backup problems and each and every one was overbooked.  Most had been working since Friday late afternoon, with no sleep.  We got a few price quotes over the phone and one actually showed up in a reasonable amount of time.  He quoted a price that Mr. T. thought was a little too much, so he sent  him packing.   Now, I am all for getting a deal, but when you have the plumber right in your basement and he has all of the equipment to get the job done and says he can be done in an hour, I say you start writing the check.  I am a firm believer that you get what you pay for, and sometimes you have to pay a little more for top notch service.  Not Mr. T.  Nope.  Too expensive for his taste so he sent Mr. Plumber man on his way and thanked him for his time. 

It was now in Mr. T.’s hands and he made a few more phone calls.  He found another guy that quoted him about half the price of the first guy and he asked how quickly he could get to our home.  It was about 10:00 AM, and  ”Mike” the plumber said he could get here by 1:00 PM.  Sounded like a plan, except that did not happen.  Ol’ Mike the plumber apparently ran into a few snags in his day, and didn’t show up until 5:45 PM.  We wasted the whole day AGAIN waiting on someone to come and help us.  When Mike and his partner finally showed, I took one look out the window and I think I said, “you have got to be f***ing kidding me.”  If you have ever seen the Sanford and Son van, you will get an idea of what I was witnessing.  Mike the plumber was about 400 lbs, short, dirty and sweaty.  He had a ripped up sweatshirt on and many, many gold chains around his neck.  He also was sporting an ID bracelet with some of the gold flaking off and his name spelled out in rhinestones.  Nice touch for a plumber!  I could not believe Mr. T. sent away Johnny on the Spot plumber at 10:00 that morning, and now I get Mike with his buddy he picked up along the way in their beat up van, only to save a few bucks.  I think I choked back some more tears and shot Mr. T. a look of disgust.

We showed Mikey boy the way to the basement, the whole way down he loudly told us he was so sorry he was late, the last job was a nightmare and he had not been to bed yet from the night before.  He didn’t need to tell me that, I could smell how long it had been since he had been home to shower.  I was still really angry at this point, and in my head was ready to tell Mikey, his partner AND Mr. T. right where to go!

Mike opened the sewer, assessed the situation ( “hell, she’s blocked all right!  Damn!) and told Mr. T. and I that he needed to go the van to get the “400 lb. monster and bring “her” down.”  Mr. T. then whispered to me “He means the other 400 lb. monster” as Mikey the plumber was not necessarily svelte.  That broke the tension a little and I lightened up.  Mikey brought down the beast and got to work.  He was sweaty, stinky, short and dirty, but he did the job and did it well.  He was very knowledgeable about sewers and gave me more information than I probably needed.  I ended up really liking ol’ Mikey and offered him and his buddy a bottle of water.  They were so appreciative and I was grateful to be able to run my water and start the disgusting task of cleaning up the mess.  On the way out, I handed them each a sandwich wrapped in plastic wrap.  I certainly thought that they would eat them after cleaning up a bit, but then I witnessed Mikey washing up in the van with a bottle of Clorox wipes.  He unwrapped the sandwich and started munching away.  It was the least I could do.  I was happy to have the problem fixed.  All in all, we ended up saving about $100.00.  Was it worth it?  Probably not, but at least I had the opportunity to meet such a colorful character.  He made an impression on me for sure and I know that if I ever need sewer or drain work again, Mikey is the man I will call, gladly!  I guess it is true when someone says that you cannot judge a book by it’s cover.  Mikey boy and his buddy, although a little harsh in appearance, did the job they came to do and we did not feel like we were being taken advantage of either.  As a matter of fact, Mikey talked about other plumbers and how storms like this were their  meal ticket.  Most people are so desperate for help, they will pay anything quoted  just to get the job done.  Not Mikey.  He informed us that we would pay the same exact price whether it were an emergency or a random Thursday.  Always the same price, no matter what.  And all I have to say to that is “Hey Mikey, we like it!”

R.I.P Twitch

Well, today was the day.  Our little Twitch has left the Earth.  I knew something was up because each time I would move his little hut he would not move.  Normally when the hut is just touched, little Twitchy would get, well, twitchy!  Early this afternoon, he seemed really slow and lethargic.  By dinner time he was gone.  I left the disposal up to the man of the house.  He and boy #2 walked outside and disposed of Twitch.  It seemed that the boy was going to be fine with it.

Well, he wasn’t.  I watched out the window and saw him walk back to the house very slowly, taking each step very deliberately.  His blond head was hanging down.  My heart ached for him!  When he came into the house he really started to cry and had the biggest tears rolling down his cheeks. He wondered out loud if it was something we did that ended Twitch’s life.  I assured him that we took excellent care of Twitch and what a lucky crayfish he was to have the boy for his keeper.  Thanks to me, he dined on worms and had a fresh Tupperware container of water every day or so.  What more could a crayfish ask for?  My boy was sad for the rest of the night and was unusually silent during dinner.  He is still sniffling.  I told him I thought it was a rule somewhere that states that whenever a nine year old boy has a crayfish that dies, that little boy gets to go out for ice cream.  So off we go to our favorite ice cream place and hopefully that will help dry his tears.  I know it will make me feel better!

Cortisone, Crayfish and College

After about two and a half months of pain in my elbow, I finally went to the doctor.  First stop was my regular GP.  She told me I had tendinitis (tennis elbow) and that I should see an orthopedic doctor.  I held off for awhile due to my fear of needles and the fact that everyone told me I was going to need a cortisone shot.   I would have none of it, and decided to just tough it out, hoping that the pain would go away.  Because ignoring pain is the way I roll.

It didn’t go away.  It got to the point that I could not sleep because my arm hurt so bad.  I finally made the appointment with the orthopedic doctor and when I hung up the phone, I broke out into a cold sweat!

The appointment was last Wednesday.  I was in the waiting room for about five minutes before I was called back by the physician’s assistant.  The first words out of my mouth were, “do you think the doctor is going to inject my arm today?”  She looked at me like I was nutty and proceeded to tell me that she could not answer that question.   After the typical question and answer session, the doctor came in and introduced himself.  He examined my elbow and a little smile crept across his face.  It took him all of about 30 seconds to announce that I indeed had “tennis elbow” but that was not all, oh no, that was not all!  He also told me in addition to “tennis elbow”, I also have “golfers elbow.”   You know, because I am such an all around athlete!

Even though I was nervous and sweaty about the shot, I laughed out loud and announced that I could not wait to tell my husband that.  I am not a golfer.  Or a tennis player for that matter.  It struck me as funny that someone such as me, with very little athletic ability is stricken with two “sports ailments” at once.  My good friend and neighbor instructed me that maybe it is not tennis or golf elbow, perhaps it is drinking elbow!  She suggests either switching arms when I drink or start drinking slushy drinks that require a straw!  We went to their house over the Memorial Day weekend so in honor of my “drinking elbow”  I mixed up a batch of Southern Comfort Slush with pomegranite  and took it over there for the fun, with some bright colored straws!  The way I figure it,  using a straw in a slushy drink can only help, right?

The good doctor went on about  how the pain can sometimes go away on its own, sometimes physical therapy can help, sometimes not.  He told me that in my case, he would recommend the cortisone shot due to the amount of time that has passed with no improvement.  I sucked it up.  Kinda.  Not without feeling like I was going to pass out or pee my pants or both.  It all  happened so quickly that there was no time for me to talk myself into anything.  By the time I was done asking how bad it was going to hurt, where exactly was the needle going, how long is it going to take….it was OVER!  Simple, piece of cake, no problem.  I am convinced that although I am a baby when it comes to medical procedures, I am really tough and also have a high pain tolerance.  After everything I heard about cortisone shots, one would think that it was right next to a form of torture.   It was NOTHING!  I walked out feeling so much better.  That night I iced my arm a little and the next day I felt great.  Pain gone!   I cannot believe how great my arm feels, as if there were nothing ever wrong.  Completely back to normal.

********************************************************************

Last week, I went to an informational session at Carthage College.  I wanted to see what their program for adults was all about.  I was so nervous, I almost backed out at the last minute.  Since I have been laid off, I have done some serious thinking about what I want to do.  I started Carthage right out of high school with a major of Elementary Education and a minor in English.  I figured, why not go and see how long it might take me to finish my degree?  I guess I don’t give myself credit when credit is due because not only did I think that I would have a hundred years left of schooling, I also thought that the credits I did have would leave me with a poor GPA and I never would be accepted.

I was wrong.  On both points.   Not only do I have a quick two and a half years left of school (going part time!) I have a GPA of 3.65, making my admittance into the Education program a snap.  When it was told to me that I would need a minimum GPA of 2.75 to gain admittance, I panicked.  I seriously thought that there was no way my GPA was high enough and I would be destined to “work for the man”  for the rest of my life.  Clearly, my memory is a bit distorted.  Either that or I am really hard on myself.  Or maybe  a bit of both!   Now, I just need to figure out how to pay for the crazy expensive tuition!  My first class will start at the end of July.  I will be a forty year old college student!  Better late than never, I guess!

********************************************************************

The school year is very quickly coming to a close and all of the “schoolies” in my family are chomping at the bit to be done!  I hear it on a daily basis. “Only 20 more days….only 16 more days….only 11 more days!”  I cannot believe that summer is here.  I guess that is because it is 50 degrees, cloudy and rainy.  One would have to look at the calender to know what month it is, because it feels like November. 

********************************************************************

Boy #2 has been studying crayfish at school.   The class was divided up into small groups and each group was assigned a live crayfish. Daily, he would come home and tell me about what he learned.  My boy explained to me that out of all the kids in his group, he was the one that could handle picking up the crayfish.  Each time a student would reach in to pick up the crayfish, said crayfish would try to pinch (with his one claw.  He has a disability!)  and scurry away.  Not for my boy, apparently.  He could pick up the crayfish and ”pet” him.   He is a “crayfish whisperer!”   My boy forged a crayfish bond with little “Twitch” (yes, the group named him.  He is very “twitchy!”)

Now that the unit is complete, the teacher sent home permission slips for each kid to get in on the “lottery” for taking home a crayfish for a pet.  At this point, there are only two live crayfish left.  My boy hurried home from school, whipped out the permission slip and proceeded to beg me to sign the slip.  He wanted Twitch to come home with him.  Ugh. Blech.

I tried talking him out of it.  Told him that crayfish do not live long, and they stink when they die.  I tried everything I could to discourage this adoption, until I sat and did the math.  Hmmm….two crayfish left, eighteen kids in the class…what are the odds?

I filled out the slip, promising to care for the crayfish, feed him, clean his water daily and keep him away from flushing toilets (damn!)  I enthusiastically handed it over to the boy, telling him to not be disappointed if his name did not get picked.  I was going to be the “good guy” because it was not going to be my decision to not adopt the crayfish, it would be up to sheer luck.  I was going to play the odds!

Well, guess what is now sitting on my counter?  A one clawed crayfish named Twitch. 

After about four days living at our home, little Twitch was not looking so good.  Although the instructions stated that crayfish would eat just about anything, we found otherwise.  We tried small pieces of meat, dog treats, dog food, and he refused to dine.  Who knew crayfish would be so finicky!   My boy was getting a little uptight and worried about Twitch and his lack of nutrition.  I tried to prepare him for the imminent death.  The look on his face (my boy, not the crayfish!) tugged at my heart hard enough that over the weekend, while planting flowers, I dug up two worms, carried them into the house and dropped them in with Twitch.  I was awarded Mom of the Year award for that by my family, and Twitch gobbled one worm up immediately.  The other worm is still in the tank, still alive and still avoiding the one claw of Twitch!  Ugh, of all of the things I do for my kids, this one is definitely not my favorite.  Yuck!  Hopefully, Twitch will live out the remainder of his long  life in comfort on my counter.  Let’s just hope it is not too long!

I’m with the band!

Some of my really good friends own a bar in town.  Actually they own three.  One of the bars has a program called “Guest Bartending” where one can sign up for a night where they can be, well, a guest bartender!  The whole basis is that a guest bartender invites all of their friends and family to come out and see them make a fool out of themselves, trying to serve drinks, and pour a draft beer (so hard!) all in the name of charity.  The guest bartender gets to choose who will be the recipient of 25% of the sales, 50% of the tips and 100% of any direct donations and raffle prize money.

Well, I knew I wanted to sign up, but was not sure who I wanted my charity to be, until I went to the parent meeting for Boy #1 for summer band.  WOW! Band can get expensive.  Not only do we pay for private lessons, the rental of an instrument but now I owe a few hundred so that my boy can march in the band in every single parade in southeast Wisconsin for the entire summer.  Really?  I have to pay for that? (oops, I don’t mean to get sarcastic about it!)   Since band is his “thing” of course we will cough up the money.  But it got me to thinking…how many kids love band as much as my boy, and how many of their parents have fallen on hard times and find the fees a little out of their reach?

So, the middle school band program was going to be my choice.  I signed up, convinced the very cool band teacher with cool hair and love of video games to be my partner along with Mr. T. and the planning began!

I sent out Evite’s, emailed everyone I knew and started getting local businesses and friends to donate raffle prizes.  Because I HATE asking people for donations, I ended up buying some of the raffle prizes myself.  I know, it kind of defeats the purpose, but it was so much easier!

We had a wonderful turn out and it was a great success!  I ended up turning over a check to the middle school band program for $528.19!  Not too shabby for someone that cannot pour a draft beer to save her life!  Bartending is not as easy as it looks!  Thankfully everyone there was patient and understanding.  On top of it, this particular establishment offers a selection of over 100 beers, each of which that needs to be poured into a specific glass.  What the heck?    When I was getting my crash course from the very knowledgeable real bartender, after about the third or fourth sentence, all I heard was “blah, blah, blah-blah, in this glass and blah blah-blah only in this glass.”  Ummm, okay.

Thankfully, my beer loving husband knew what he was doing from his years and years of bartending.  I spent a lot of the time selling raffle tickets for the many prizes, which was probably for the best.  I hope I never have to pour a draft beer again.  If I ever guest bar tend again, which I might, the memo in the Evite will be that everyone will get an extra raffle ticket for free if they order something from a bottle!

We had a great time, and it was for a great cause.  I was so happy to be able to contribute to something that makes my son so happy.  Playing in the band makes his heart sing and I am grateful for that.  Not nearly as grateful as I was when my girlfriend mentioned to me that I am going to be that Mom that marches with the band, with the little squirt bottle spraying the kids down as they march on pavement hot enough to fry an egg on in their long sleeve polyester black and white band uniform.  Thanks for that Mrs. Tennessee.  Yup.  Cannot wait for that. 

Here are some fun photos of the night.

My very supportive beer loving friends, Lynn, Amy and Andy

The FUN Moms! They won a LOT of the prizes and cheered loudly! See all of their raffle tickets?

Me drawing the next ticket! "Winner, winner chicken dinner!"

The Three Amigos. Partners in bartending!

Notice the t-shirts?  Each guest bartender receives a tshirt to wear with the Guest Bartending logo.  Apparently, the majority of female guest bartenders are a size 2 because although the tag of my pink T said ladies X-LARGE, I think it was X-LARGE in toddler sizes.   Seriously, it was tight!  Showing more than I would care to show, but maybe that is the point?  I was very self conscious all night with that shirt on.  Good thing they ordered an X-Large instead of the LARGE, which is what I requested!  Don’t think I would have fit into the LARGE.

Mrs. Tennessee winning a gift certificate for Cafe De Lube. A coffee shop and oil change garage all in one. Only in K-Town!

Tuesday Night Tea Club Julie walking away with the Food Network coffee set! NICE!

My friends Nancy, Dave, Julie, Jennifer and The Captain!

My friend Jean. After a night of softball, she walked away with a cooler full of Corona! Start slicing the limes!

We had a great time!  Everyone was so generous and I was thrilled to be able to hand over  the cash to the band teacher, even though he is the reason my son has changed his career aspirations from being an orthodontist to being a middle school band director.  (In my best Stewie Griffin voice) “Damn you, vile man! You have impeded my work since the day he left my womb!”

Hahahahaha….Just kidding. No I am not.  Yes, yes I am!  It is a joke.  Not really.

Growing up / Part Deuce

Last night I had another lump in my throat, butterflies in my stomach moment with Boy #1 and I survived to write about it.  I am slowly getting the hang of this parenting thing!

Yesterday, as soon as the boy got in the car after school, he announced that he was meeting some friends at the skateboard park that is new in our town.   I think  I stopped breathing for a quick second and  just looked at him with a blank stare.  I knew that the skate park just opened last week.  We have driven past a few times and my boy would press his face against the window and gaze with adoration at the concrete structure.  He talked about his “ollies, push shoves, grinding, kick-flips” and other skater terminology that is like a foreign language to most parents.

I was a little panicked, but did not say much due to the fact that it is a proven fact that the more a parent discourages, the more the kid wants to experience it!  So I just said, “oh, that sounds like fun” and gulped my fear back down to the pit of my stomach.

We arrived home and he dropped everything, grabbed his board and off he went to find his neighborhood buds.   He called me a few times, letting me know that they were just skating at M.’s house, which is just a few blocks away.  All was well with the world at that moment.  Then the call came…

“Mom, can you please give me, Eddie, M and S a ride to the skate park?  Please, MOM?”  I reluctantly agreed, if only so that I was the parent that was there to supervise.   I thought I would sit and watch and make sure that nobody broke their neck! 

We chatted on the way over and I tried to keep my cool to not embarrass my boy.  I made no mention of safety or stranger danger, after all these kids are twelve and thirteen years old, but I really wanted to…oh, how I wanted to!

We arrived at the park and I pulled into the closest parking spot I could, in full view of the park.  I opened the hatch of the car so the kids could get their boards out and turned off the ignition.   The kids thanked me for the ride and hopped on their boards and rode off, all the while my boy looking at me with a look of  disappointment.

“Ummm…your not staying, are you?”  he said to me.  I told him I had planned on it and he very firmly told me “NO WAY!”  I quietly got back in the car, and drove away, calling Mr. T on the way to ask if he thought it was the right thing to do.  He of course laughed at me and told me to come home, they would be fine.

I got home and no sooner than when we started a pizza, the phone rang and it was my boy. “Mom, can you come back now and get us?”  I immediately thought something was wrong but was told by the boy with a little chuckle, that they were way out of their league and the skaters that were there were like professionals!  They were a little embarrassed by their lack of skills.

I drove back to the park, picked up the four boys and really enjoyed listening to them talk about their experience.  My biggest fear was that the older kids there would somehow bully, pick on or make fun of these younger kids and I was so relieved to hear them tell me that it was quite the oppposite.  They explained that almost all of the older teens really encouraged the young ones and told them to not be embarrassed, to get out there and try, because that is how you get better…keep practicing!

That was like music to my ears.  I was thrilled that the older skaters were so polite and encouraging to these boys, and I think it meant a lot to them too.  They talked about going back this weekend and trying again. We came back to Casa Teenie and Mr T. made a pizza for the boys.  They sat at our table and talked and laughed and had a great time.  My boy was going to spend the night at Eddie’s house so once the other kids left, I drove the boy and Eddie over.  When we got in the car, my boy and Eddie proceeded to tell me that I was “cool dealio” for taking them to the park and making them a pizza.  I scored big for that!

My boy said to me that he could not believe that I not only approved of him going to the skate park, but that I actually drove them there!  I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was so proud of me, relieved in a sense and also happy that he has a “cool dealio” mom!  He thanked me and with as much sincerity as a twelve year old boy can muster, he said, “Thanks for trusting me, Mom.”

I think I may have melted into a puddle at that moment.  I talked to Eddie and the boy a little about trust, and making good choices.  I explained that the reason I allowed it was because they have not given me a reason to NOT trust.  He smiled a ear to ear grin and my heart sang!  I then turned into Mommy Police and said that I did trust, and believe me, the second I ever find out that there is any kind of behavior that was off limits, they would be in so much trouble, they would not even know what hit them.  I include Eddie in this because he is like my third son, and I know I would have his parents permission to wallop him if need be!  I told them both that the second there was any funny business, they both would be transferred to a school ( I won’t mention the school name) that they both say is a school for nerds.  I heard Eddie gasp in the back seat and say “ohhhhhh…that would be the worst punishment in the world!” 

That is right, Eddie…straight and narrow.  Keep on the path and keep the boy right along with you!

Someone stole my glasses!

As mentioned in previous post, my boy #2 wears glasses.  His prescription is mild and he only needs to wear them at school for distance.  Yesterday when he came home from school,  I asked the usual questions.  How was your day?  Do you have homework?  What was exciting at school?

Then, just out of curiosity, I asked, “did you wear your glasses today?”  Without skipping a beat, my boy answered NOPE.  He seemed very unaffected by the whole conversation and very matter-of-fact explained that he lost his glasses.  About a week ago.  He said it like he lost a pencil…no shame in his voice. 

I asked if he asked his teacher.  He did.  She has not seen them.  I asked if he checked the lost and found.  Nope.  At this point, I am starting to lose my cool a little due to the fact that I am unemployed and I am still making payments on his glasses and cannot afford to replace them at the present moment.  My boy was casually washing a pear at the sink and I shut off the water and told him to get his shoes on.

We were going to take a little walk back to school.  It was then that my boy started to cry.  He could tell I was angry.  The whole walk to school I gave him the lecture about how expensive the glasses were, how he needed to be more responsible for his things.  I told him that he should not have waited a week to tell me that his glasses were missing and that maybe we would have had better luck finding them if we knew sooner.  His response?  “I think someone stole them!”

When we got to the school, we went into the office and I made the boy do all of the talking.  He quietly told the two office secretaries that he lost his glasses last week and wondered if anyone turned them in.  Sure enough,  someone had turned in a pair of glasses that were left in the computer lab at one of the computer stations.  They handed them over and we made the positive ID.  I sent the boy to his class room to put the glasses in his case.  We then walked home with me telling him the entire way that he is so lucky someone turned them in.  You see, we have a new “allowance” plan in place at our house and here is how it works:

Each kid starts the month out with a set amount of allowance.  Then, for each “infraction” (bed not made in the morning, dirty clothes laying on the floor, video games not cleaned up and put away) we will deduct .50 from the allowance.  I keep a notebook with the deductions.  At the end of the month, they will be paid the remainder of what is left.  I explained to the boy that if the glasses were lost never to be found, his deduction would be so big, that for the next year he would owe ME money at the end of the month!  Hopefully my point was made and the boy will start to take a little more responsibility for his things.  I am not holding my breath, but it is a nice thought!

Growing up.

I have always been a little on the cautious side when it comes to my kids.  Alright, actually a  bit more on the freakishly overprotective side.   I have been teased about it mercilessly from my family and friends over the last twelve years, but I don’t care.  They way I look at it, it is my job to protect my children, keep them safe because you don’t get a second chance.  There are enough freak shows around and scary stories on the news that make me want to keep my kids close by me and my eye on them at all times.  I never want to be the parent that says, “if only….”

Now that my oldest boy is growing up, sportin’ a little peach fuzz and getting ever so close to the scary teen years, I am trying hard to loosen up a little, slowly starting to snip the apron strings one thread at a time.  I have let him go to “Teen Night” at the local ice rink with his friends, no parents allowed.  The first time was really hard for me and I worried and paced the whole night.  Although the teen night ended at 10:30 PM, I told the boy that 9:00 was my limit and that his ride would be showing up promptly.  That was good enough for him at the time…until he got there and started having a ton of fun.  He called and asked if he could please, please, please stay until 10:30 PM.  I OK’d it, but only after talking with Eddie Haskell’s mom.  Eddie was there with the boy, and she was on board, so with a little pang in my stomach, I approved.

Now, my boy has never given me a reason to not trust him.  When I say be home at 6:00PM, he is walking in the door at 5:55PM.  When I told him under no circumstances should he ever cross over into the park across the street from his school, he never has.  I went to the same middle school and that park was notorious for gangs, smoking, a little drug action and worse.  It was the place the “bad kids” hung out before and after school and sometimes even during school.  My number one rule when he started that school was no park, not ever.  So far, he has not even looked that way, until recently.  A few weeks ago, as we pulled up to the curb, he asked if they could go over the park and hang out before the bell rang. Use your imagination, you will know what my response was to that request!  He was so angry with me, slammed the car door without saying goodbye, and sulked the whole way to the 6th grade door.  I felt terrible, but I was not going to cave.  Until I started sitting in my car, watching what exactly was going on in the park.  I noticed some of the boy’s friends, a lot of their friends.  They are playing touch football!  Nothing bad, no smoking.  As I watched with relief, I smiled when I saw the principal watching the innocent game of touch football, supervising along with one of the other staff members.  When the bell rang, the principal herded all of the kids up and they crossed the street all together, in the cross walk, of course.

When the boy came home that night, I told him I had a change of heart.  I told him what I had witnessed that morning and his response was “I know Mom, that is why we want to go over there.  We want to play football too.”  He was grateful for my change of rules and the next morning, the two asked if we could leave for school a little early.  I agreed and when we pulled up, they darted over to the park, dropped their back packs and joined the game already in progress.  The principal turned in my direction, smiled at me and gave me a friendly wave, almost as is he were saying, “It’s OK crazy mommy, I got it from here!”

Well, here we are with the first warm, spring like weekend.  Yesterday, the boy’s were outside all day.  Boy #1 and Eddie Haskell took their skateboards over to Eddie’s house, and I approved.  On their way, they ran into a couple kids they go to school with.  I don’t know these two boys very well, but I do know that they are good kids.   One of the kids mom used to head up the Market Day program at the elementary school, and I got to know her a little bit and the other boy’s mom owns a trendy little art gallery in town.  They both live in the neighborhood and although I don’t know them well enough to invite them out for coffee, I felt comfortable letting the Boy hang with these two boys.   My Boy called me and breathlessly said, “Mom, we are going to Nate’s house.  He has a half pipe in his backyard!”

The boys had a blast and my Boy was home right on time.  Each time they changed venues, he would call me and tell me where they were going to be.  Each time I said the same thing, “OK, thanks for letting me know!”  All night  he told me of the adventures they had that day, and I was so happy that he had fun, hung out with some nice kids and enjoyed the nice weather, which is so much better than sitting in front of the video games!

Today, right after lunch, Eddie called looking for the Boy.  Apparently, the same group of boys were going to meet on their bikes and ride around.  Off he went, just as excited as the day before.  About 15 minutes after he left, the phone rang and it was the Boy.  He wanted to know if he could ride his bike to the skateboard shop with the other kids.  Well, my first reaction was a firm “absolutely not.”  The skate shop is about two miles away, all of the travel time on a very busy street, passing the home of a very strange, clearly disturbed man that tries to sell empty milk jugs in front of his house along with other pieces of garbage.  I could sense in my Boy’s voice that if I did not let him go, he would never forgive me until the end of time.  I got the typical “everyone else gets to go, PLEASE MOM!”  I knew I had to let him go.   And I did, but not without feeling like I was going to cry (I didn’t) and not without feeling nervous and a little jumpy about it.  After all, isn’t a rite of passage, to cruise around town on your bike with the cool kids?  I remember doing the same thing when I was a  kid.  I reluctantly agreed, and gave him the “talking to” before we hung up.  “Do not talk to the strange man that tries to sell garbage, watch for cars, stay together and keep your cell phone on.”  He did just that, and within an hour he called and said that they were almost back to our neighborhood and everything went fine.  I could tell that he felt a little more grown up, proud to have been given that privilege.  I am proud of myself too.  This was a big step for me today.  I think we are both growing up!  I bumped into my niece at Target and I told her what transpired today.  I said, “you are never going to guess what I let the Boy do today”  When I told her, she smiled at me, patted my shoulder and said “Good for you Auntie, good for you!”

No one said this parenting thing would be easy, and let me tell you it’s not!  But it is the best, most rewarding thing I have ever done.  And hopefully as I snip threads one by one from the apron strings, my boys will grow up happy, healthy and safe from strange men selling garbage.

Here comes the SUN!

I am beside myself with excitement at the present moment.  Not only is the sun shining brightly and there are blue skies to be seen, but my parents are on their way here and I cannot wait to see them!   They should arrive sometime around noon.  I spent the entire day yesterday getting their guest bedroom ready, cleaning, washing linens and floors.  Yay!  I am a forty year old kid right now, and so thrilled that I get to spend the next week or so with my parents under the same roof!

This morning, I had to cook breakfast for Mr. T’s Breakfast and Basketball program so I was up very early to scramble NINETY eggs.  Yes, NINETY!  It did not take as long as I thought it would, but I had a helping hand in Mr. T. which was nice.  He did not get the whole “scramble” thing and insisted that I should just crack the eggs into the pan and then, you know, just mix them around a little.   So you can see why I do all of the cooking and he sticks with the laundry!

I am off to the grocery store now to pick up a few things in anticipation of my parents staying here.  I want to make sure I have some of their favorites on hand.  I need half n half for Mom’s coffee and a case of flavored water.  I will also stop at the local Italian market to get wine for my Mom.  The only problem is I have no idea what to buy.  I buy wine the same way I bet on the dogs or  horses…which one is the prettiest?  I will look at the labels and whichever looks the nicest will be the kind that I buy! 

Weather forecast calls for snow tomorrow and all I can say to that is BLEH!  So tired of that kind of weather!  It is April for crying out loud.  Someone send a memo to Mother Nature, please.  Snow, snow stay away, come again another day…like next December!

Tomorrow we will have a big family dinner at my house with my parents and Chuck, Ann and the kids.  No worries here.  The menu is already planned as my Mom is bringing a lasagna.  All the way from her house.  Cause that is how she does it.

One one last note, my sister in law is having a pretty major surgery on Tuesday, so if praying is your thing, send a shout out for her.   I know things will go great and she will be on the road to recovery lickety split!  She is going to have more help than she will probably need with my Mom being here, me being off of work.  This is the time for paybacks, but in a good way.  When I was really sick with pre-eclamsia with my first born, she was right there the whole time taking care of me with massages (I could not move) and combing my hair.  Neck surgery, check. I could count on her.  I did not even have to ask for help, but she was here, taking care of my kids and getting them off to school.  So although Ty and Emma surely do not want me to pack them a lunch and kiss them goodbye at the school door, I would do it in a second, if they would let me!    Love you, Ann.  Don’t worry about a thing.  We will make sure that everything is taken care of.  Just get better fast and remember, pain medication is your friend!