Chalk up a win in my column

Friday night, on the way to my book club meeting, the following text message arrived from my daughter:

So apparently im supposed to go to dads sunday night and spend the night till monday for some retard reason and hes gonna talk to you about it. MAKE UP A REASON WHY WE WOULD BE BUSY. Plleeeasssee im so tired of him and i dont wnna wake up at 5:30 am on monday if I dont have to and i dont want to deal with him any more.

I get to hear her vent every time I pick her up. It gets old, but really, what else can I do? I can't fix everything. I can't change him. I can't even say much without badmouthing him... which is definitely not productive. So I let her vent, and when she finishes I ask her, "So do you feel better since you got that out?"

And she always sighs deeply, and replies, "Yes!!" But this time she had a very valid point.

Sunday was when I was supposed to get the kids, but he had emailed me about a week before, asking if I would pick them up at noon Saturday or if he should drop them off. I agreed to pick them up since I would be in the area anyway.

But there was no mention that he expected this to be a trade of time... that I would have to bring them back when it was normally to be their time with me. I had emailed him over a month earlier asking about his plans that weekend. I knew he was leaving town for a marathon, and I pointed out that it was Doober's midterm break weekend. I asked how he wanted to split the time with Doober home, but he never acknowledged that email at all.

Given this text message from the Pumpkin, I expected him to call, which he did, halfway through book club, so I didn't answer. But his voice mail message made no reference to getting the kids back on Sunday either. He never brought it up at all until I picked them up on Saturday. So I decided it was ok to stand my ground.

This is the same guy who always preached, "It's called cah-mew-ni-KAY-shun," in that obnoxious tone of voice every time he didn't think we verbalized enough and assumed too much. So I simply told him that he was welcome to come get the kids for some additional visitation time but it made no sense for them to move their stuff back and forth between houses multiple times, just to sleep in a different place, so I expected him to bring them back at bedtime. It wasn't my fault he left town this weekend, and if he wanted to swap time rather than ask me to take them early, he should have replied to my email ahead of time to make those arrangements.

He never came to get them last night, and when he called this morning, he simply asked me to bring Doober over tonight for a bit to discuss the situation with his grades (which aren't doing so hot). He agreed that since he hadn't replied to my email, it was his fault and he forfeited his time with them. I felt a lot of passive-aggression in his tone, but the words were ok, so I'm trying to listen to what he said and ignore how he said it.

Finding your victories when you can is just as important as picking your fights.

A first time for everything

I hate having to communicate with my ex. As much as possible, I try to do it via email. And there are several reasons for this.

1. I don't have to talk to him in person
2. I can prepare myself, do it on my own time, and think through what I say
3. I have it in writing, so he can't claim I never told him something and then threaten to write down everything that I say so he can prove me wrong

So a recent email exchange had me irritated this morning. I sent forwarded a parent/teacher conference email from the school, and added this:

Are you going to this and bringing Doober home for break, or will you not be able to because of your marathon? You never answered my email before where I asked you about this.

And he replied this:

Yes, I can get him. Can we make sure Doober gets me scheduled to see all of his teachers this time... I'm not going to ask to see them myself... If he doesn't get it done and is struggling or has other issues then he will have to deal with it and not graduate. I'm not going to get involved this time. He knows what needs to be done and I have stayed away... I'm not going to "fix it" or nag... or push. I will email him and ask to get me on their schedule for conferences. If he wants my help then he can ask. As I've seen from the past he wants to make all his own decisions and my help is not needed, So I'll keep to myself. If he asks, I'll do what I can, but by then it is usually to late.

I think you can see why he irritates me. So first, I got a little tense and irritated, but lately I've done this little exercise when something he does bugs me. I shrug it off. Literally. I lift my shoulders in a shrug, roll them back to relax them again, and picture whatever it is being 'shrugged off' in the process.

And this morning, after shrugging it off, I replied:

If you have messages for Doober, it's best if you contact him directly. It isn't practical for me to pass messages between you. Facebook or phone/text is the best way to reach him. If you email, be sure to use his school account but don't count on him reading it promptly.

I did send him a text to tell him to schedule the meetings, but you should probably let him know the earliest time you could be there. Later in the day times are often taken so it can be hard to get appointments with all teachers.

And after writing this, I felt a little proud of myself for not going along with his game. It may not seem like much to you since I did sort of pass along a portion of his message to Doober, but I think this type of response was a first for me. I mostly passed the buck back to him.

The ebb and flow of daily life

For years I have dreaded Friday evenings.  Leaving work on Friday meant two days of pressure... of never knowing when he would be around.  And holiday weekends were even worse... three days in a row was pure torture.

Sometimes I would be lucky, and he'd go out on a 15 or 20 mile run and be gone for a couple of hours.  Sometimes he'd go on a bike ride, or take off to work to do some side project.  But those minutes or hours of peace were never enough to make up for the uncertainty.  What project would he decide had to be done?  Would it be something I wanted to do, or something I would just give in on, to avoid the pressure and manipulation that would always lead to me giving in anyway? 

I've had two extended weekends now, since I moved into my house.  Both weekends were spent mostly alone, since he had the kids for a good portion of them.  But alone doesn't mean lonely to me... it means peace.  I've still had to work almost non-stop but working toward goals that you can buy into is a major shift from working at something you've been pushed into.

I still have to talk to him. I no longer have the panic attacks when I see him on my caller ID, but I do still breathe a huge sigh of relief when I hang up.

Yesterday I think he called me three times.  One in the morning to arrange a time for us to go to storage to get my last two larger pieces of furniture... one later in the afternoon to find out how soon I would be there... and one in-between to discuss chores for the kids.

It was this in-between phone call that made me tense.

Apparently he decided that we need to be consistent in giving chores to the kids.  He thinks they should have one chore every day.  So he wanted to make sure that I was going to give them chores during the weeks that they are at my place too, since he always felt I was too lenient with them. 

And if you look at it, that's not really unreasonable, as long as the chores are something that need to be done.  I won't manufacture chores just so they have something to do like he does, but when I need help, I will ask them to help. 

But the biggest difference is that I ask them to do things.  With him, it's not a request, it's an order.  I may even offer choices.  And they know that if they say no with me, I won't be happy, and they will get to deal with my unhappiness, which isn't the most pleasant.  But with me they always have the ability to say no, to ask to do it later, or to even suggest alternatives to what I requested.  I think that level of freedom is a huge thing for them.

And regardless of what he says when he calls me, I will continue to parent in MY way.  He has managed to push me beyond my ability to cope, so that I had to leave him for my own sanity.  It feels really good to be able to deal with the kids in my way, and regardless of his pressure, I won't use his tactics.  He may be well on the way toward alienating his kids, but I won't make that same mistake.

And with some of his pressure gone, I'm beginning to look forward to weekends again. 

Sigh

I still don't know how to tell my daughter. I've been anticipating the possibility of hysterics from her. Melodrama and the like.

The boys were easy. They are both away at school, so before they went back after Christmas break, I sat them down and told them I was going to be filing for divorce. I explained why, though it was probably somewhat unnecessary. Even though they aren't exposed to fighting, they clearly have seen the passive-aggressive behaviors that I have exhibited through the years, and they know why. They're not blind to it.

They took it really nonchalantly. Like it was no big deal.

It pissed off my husband of course, that I told them without him around. That I didn't TELL him I had told them, so that he could talk to them before they were back to school. He insisted that while they kind of blew it off, it mattered a lot more to them than they expressed. And he also insisted that I NOT do this with her.

So I promised we would tell her together. And that stresses me greatly. Because if I were to talk to her alone, I know what I'd say.

I'd talk about her former friend "A". I'd discuss how everything always had to be A's way. How A complained that anything that the pumpkin was interested in was "HER THING". How every activity had to be planned by A, and done in her way. How the pumpkin felt when she disagreed but had to go along with A. How she felt such a huge relief when A suddenly got upset about some perceived injustice and quit being friends. How now, even if A is friendly, she doesn't really have any desire to be together.

I'd talk about pumpkin's comments to me from just last night. How she can't decide whether or not to go to the school where Doober is right now. How she doesn't want to leave her friends. How she wants to go into art, but this school isn't the best path to take for that. How the math and science that is strongest in this school isn't as important in an art related career. How the school she is at currently has a really strong art program and an exceptional art teacher. How she can easily get a really strong math and science program at her current school.

And how she stated that she wanted to get away from her dad.

Yeah, honey. I can totally relate to that one.

But... I can't say any of that when he's right there. She may tell ME those things, but that's not the type of thing she'd say to him. And I can't expose that she said it to me. She needs to know that our conversations are just between us. The safety to speak openly to me is a necessity for her own health. I can say it later, of course... when we are alone.

But what do I say to her when he's there? She expends a lot of energy trying to please him. It's not that she hates him and wants to get away... it's just that he's such a constant stress.

And when does life get easy?

Because I Said So!

It's the middle of back to school month. I say 'month' because we couldn't do it all in one week, right? We have to have a different week for each kid to begin school, so we can drag out the joy.

Last week was Blondie. We took him back down to his boarding school and got him moved in, all pretty tearlessly. Not bad, except he didn't bother communicating with his roommate, and when we got down there, we found both boys had brought microwaves, and both assumed that the other was bringing the bed loft. But what's another 5 hours of driving the next day in a special trip, to take the bed loft down? My kid is worth it, right?

Right. I guess. But I still wouldn't mind if he weren't QUITE so blonde sometimes!

This week is Doober. Who isn't blonde. And doesn't really have blonde moments. But he DOES have stubborn, push-the-limits-right-to-the-edge moments.

So Wednesday we got his hair cut. Thinking I'd be nice, I took him to a salon instead of pulling out my trusty scissors myself. I let him specify how he wanted it done, as long as it met dress code (not below the ear lobes or past the eyebrows or over the collar).

Well, 1 out of 3 is ok, right? No? The school didn't think so either. So next week I will be pulling out my trusty scissors. I'm not paying another $15 just a week later. He may not like it as much this time, but it WILL meet dress code!

And Thursday I drove him to school, a half hour each way, for his one-hour orientation day. I still don't understand why they can't hand out schedules, planners, locker assignments, and take school pictures on the first day of school, but they don't. So I took a couple hours out of my work day to drive him over and wait around for the hour until he was done.

On the way home I noticed he was still clutching the school picture envelope. I may be a bit naive at times, but I know that school picture companies generally don't give away their photos for free. So I'm pretty sure he shouldn't still have had the envelope.

"They wouldn't take my picture," he explained. "I have to get them done on retakes day."

On a normal school day, that little bit of hair that wasn't freshly shaved on his upper lip would have meant a $1 fee to pay for a disposable razor, a trip to the bathroom to remove it, and a detention for breaking dress code. Apparently on school picture day, it just means that you aren't good enough for their cameras.

It's probably a good thing he didn't tell me right away. I might have caused a scene in the school. And I wouldn't want to do that, because I need to stockpile my scene-causing gift for use on Monday.

Yes, Monday. Back-to-school night at the Pumpkin's school. I'm planning it already. I need to be ready. I've been planning it for several months, actually, and I want to be sure I don't wimp out.

Ok, I should probably catch you up, so I'll let you read this little gem from the revised school dress code:

Shoes are to compliment the uniform rather than detract from it. Plain leather dress shoes (low heels only) or athletic shoes in a solid color (no contrasting stitching or contrasting logos) of brown, black, white, or navy blue are acceptable. Bright, gaudy, or distracting colors for the shoe laces are to be avoided. Shoes must have a closed heel and toe. No sandals, clogs, or boots of any style are allowed. Shoes must be kept tied, buckled, or fastened for safety. Shoes with laces must be tied tight with the tied bow showing on the upper tongue area of the shoe. Shoe jewelry is not allowed.

The second sentence is in bold. That is the change from last year to this one. And this other statement regarding the gym clothing dress code is also applicable to my point:

Students are to wear gym shoes and socks. The gym shoes (following the same guidelines as established for athletic shoes in uniform/dress code) must be used only for gym and not worn as street shoes. Please avoid gym shoes with black or dark soles that leave marks on the gym floor.

On Saturday I plan to take the Pumpkin shoe shopping. I will be stopping at the running store where I got her shoes last spring for track. And I will take a picture of the sign they have on their wall.

"You do not buy shoes by color. You buy shoes by fit."
This is my beef.

Sure, being anal about shoe color is a bit extreme, to say the least. I sincerely doubt that the purple plaid button on my daughter's black dress shoes last year kept any other students from learning at their top potential. But it's not impossible to find her a pair of solid-colored black or white or blue or brown dress shoes.

What IS impossible is finding a good quality pair of solid-colored black or white or blue or brown athletic shoes that are made for running. All such shoes have contrasting stitching and logos! I could possibly find her cross-trainers - walking shoes - basketball shoes - but not running shoes. And the kids are expected to do a lot a running in gym class. Our family has had numerous issues related to running and shoes. I will not have her develop shin splits, stress fractures, or other foot problems due to ill-fitting shoes that aren't designed for running. Before I will allow that, I will take her to our doctor and get a written statement that she isn't allowed to participate in gym class due to the shoe requirement.

I'm not sure if I can make a bunch of pea-brained people see reason when they are overly-enjoying exerting their self-perceived authority. But I am not the only parent who is getting tired of nit-picky dress code rules becoming more and more strict every year, with absolutely NO parental involvement in the process, and no explanation of the problems that caused them to need to make said changes.

I am a consensus person. When I set rules, I want them to be followed, and I believe the best way to do that is for everyone to understand why the rules are necessary. I am not one for creating rules just for the sake of rules. And my kids know this, so they generally follow my rules with very little issue. They can understand why the rules are necessary, and they also appreciate that I respect THEM enough to not just say, "Because I said so."

Someone needs to tell the school that "Because I said so" just doesn't cut it.

Share the love & the bagels

I'm a voracious reader. I have memorized lines that I quote from some of my favorite books. Books I've read multiple times.

My husband? Not so much.

He has a collection of theoretical physics books, chess books, sports books, etc. That he reads only at night before bed. About a page a night if we're lucky. Most of his books will never get read.

I adore books, and was determined that my kids would learn this love too. When they were young, we read together. Bedtime stories at night. Me pushing them to read words as they were able to begin.

And between first & third grades, I searched for the books that would reach them... the ones that could trap them into loving reading like I do. And when we found that mysterious hook, we bought every book that we could of that type. With my oldest son, it was The Magic Treehouse series. Son #2 fell for the Great Illustrated Classics. And the pumpkin fell for Junie B. Jones.

They all got tricked into reading via the bedtime stories. I was a tired mom with little kids and I'd sometimes doze off while reading. And they began to take over because they wanted more story than I could manage. So they corrected my words that I misread. Or sometimes they'd read to me when I couldn't stay awake. Or I'd come back to the book from the night before and be told that they had already finished it.

Tonight my daughter was talking about reading. Her friend Ramona doesn't like to read. She was complaining about having to go read x number of pages, and the pumpkin couldn't understand. Ramona apparently has a daily reading quota.

Pumpkin couldn't understand why you would read if you didn't want to. I explained that some kids just don't like to read, so the parents try to encourage it by insisting they do it. I continued by saying that by their age (junior high) it's too late to learn to love it.

And the pumpkin agreed. She told me that she always thought it was stupid how people tell you to read bedtime stories to your kids so they'll learn to like to read, but it worked. She totally credits the bedtime stories for her love of reading.

And it paid off for her even more this time. She just won a year's "bagel pack" (13 bagels & 2 cream cheeses a month, for a year) from Panera Bread in the library's summer reading contest.

Just think... a good book and a good bagel. What could be better?

I'm a meanie mom and other random stuff

Life is too busy, blah blah blah. You've heard all of that before, I know. So instead of whining about that, I thought I'd throw up a quick post on some random stuff running through my head.

Kids. Phones. ACK.

Too many kids have cell phones. Kids who don't really need them, because they don't want you to know where they are every single moment of every day, so they don't even answer them. Kids who leave them on silent mode and use the excuse, "But I didn't hear it ring."

Kids who text. Nonstop.

My niece came over a few weeks ago to spend the night. Supposedly her purpose in coming was to help me prepare food for the baby shower. But I think she actually came so she could practice her texting in new and different locations.

While stirring the chocolate frosting? Texting.
Trying to cut up chicken? Texting.
Sitting on the sofa? Texting.

I think cell phones with text plans have created a group of really rude people. I love sending a random text message from time to time, to let someone know that I was thinking about them. I understand the fun of receiving similar messages. But I'm a mother, and letting my kids have fun is not my responsibility.

After sleepovers with friends, my daughter complains how the other girls just sat around texting girls who weren't there instead of playing or talking. She has no cell phone... I believe a 7th grader has no need for a cell phone, even though almost all of her classmates have them. Cell phones aren't allowed at her school, and if she needs to use a phone, she's allowed to use the school phone or any of the teacher's phones. And she most certainly doesn't need to text other people while spending time with her friends.

So when I got phones for the boys (who are in high school and NEED phones for various reasons) I blocked texting. I didn't just not get them a plan... I blocked it so they can't receive messages either. And know what? They don't mind. They sort of LIKE being able to blame it on me and NOT have to feel pressured to do what all of the other kids are doing.

Bummer. Kinda ruins your fun when you even fail at being a meanie.

Kids. Dating. More ACK.

Blondie (#1 kid) pissed off his girlfriend over the weekend, apparently by choosing to blow her off and instead hang out with his friends, and according to facebook they are no longer in a relationship.

Gotta love facebook stalking - that's also how I recently discovered that Doober (#2 kid) is also in a relationship. With a senior. He's a freshman.

Um. Yeah. You're 'just friends'. Right.

And then there's The Pumpkin (#3 kid) who has had the same 'boyfriend' since last year. Yes, she's still 12, thanks. And she isn't allowed to date yet, though she does meet him at the school dances. But she's got a great head on her shoulders, not just a cute one. So when her friends pressure her to kiss him, she says "Give it a break, I'm only 12!!!"

I love that girl!

Home Decor

My most recent project has been making curtains for our house. Actually, it's a very old project, just one that I haven't done for... oh... 12 years or so.

Yes, I do collect unfinished projects. And I am very good at it too, tyvm.

Back in the late 1980's, I made a trip to Montgomery Ward and picked out some shees with mauve & green flowers. I brought them home, cut them in half, hemmed them, and... ta da!... new curtains. A few strips sewn, a couple of small plastic rings to hang them on, and you have some nice tiebacks to go along with the curtains.

And these lovely curtains hung on the windows for a very long time. They came down when we removed the window trim and replaced the windows, only to be re-hung on spring-loaded rods. sans tiebacks. I bought fabric for new curtains, but that fabric was blue, and the new furniture we picked out turned out to be green & burgundy plaid, so when we finally redid the interior of the house and got the new woodwork up, the same old curtains were rehung on new double rods. And I picked up some hunter green fabric at a sale, that I could eventually use in some way to spice up the windows.

For years, that extra rod adorned the top edge of the three windows, waiting for the yet-to-be-made valance to be added to the panels. Which may be borderline-acceptable for day-to-day living, but doesn't look so hot to prospective house-buyers.

So last weekend I ran to Menards and picked up some mini-blinds. I pulled out the mauve lining material I had gotten to go with the never-to-be-used blue curtain fabric. I dug out the hunter green fabric and the decade-old curtain patterns. And I started cutting. And sewing.

So what if I was naive enough to believe I could do 3 windows in one weekend, and still have enough time to make valances for the boys' bedroom too. So what if we had to postpone our open house for two weeks because the house won't be as ready as we wanted it to be. So what if the daughter was so inspired that she wanted new mauve valances in HER room too, which I decided would make a good sewing-training project for her.

I may be good at collecting more projects than I have time to do, but when I do finish a few, I think they look pretty good. Especially when you consider that I still have 20-year-old bedsheets hanging on my windows. :)

Yes I'm whiny. Shaddup and deal with it.

I'm hiding. Well, sort of.

Mostly I'm trying to make it through today. And then tomorrow. Unfortunately, yesterday's stuff still isn't done. And I'm not sure if the day before's is either.

My 14 year old son comes home every night with hours of math homework. For Algebra 1 class. The teacher says the homework should take 30-60 minutes. I tend to agree. He had Algebra 1 last year too. And got a B in it. This year? He's getting a low C.

He hates math. I wonder why. I've come to hate it too. At least from this side. I still don't mind doing it.

Except balancing bank accounts. I really can't stand that.

Which might explain why I last tried to balance ours last October. 2007, not 2008. It didn't balance then, by the way. I never got the courage to try since.

I hate school projects too. Even when they are craft projects and crafts are my daughter's favorite things in the whole entire world. Because when it's a project for school, somehow mom ends up helping do them. And dad complains if mom doesn't have a plan for supper by 4:00. And the bills somehow forget to pay themselves, and the house doesn't get swept regularly, and that's about the time some realtor decides to call and wants to schedule a showing on the house for the next day and you have to drop everything to try to clean up a month's worth of forgotten things.

Well, not yet. That last sentence happened a few weeks ago, though. And I'm just expecting it to happen again, considering how bad the house looks right now.

What? Doesn't everyone store 10 craft projects on their dining room table?

And why the heck did I have to get a cold right now?

One down... 6.5 to go...

Well, my son made it through one week with no more unexcused absences. He would have missed one class, except that I'm really damn persistent, and I managed to find someone to knock on his door and get him up in time to just make it.

He missed only one hour of his detentions that he got for all of the prior absences, so he accumulated two hours to make up for the one he missed. But he made it to 5 hours of detention.

Overall, a net gain I'd say.

The problem? He has to make it through six-and-a-half more weeks with no unexcused absences. His penalty count doesn't reset until the beginning of next semester.

And that door-knocking thing? I don't think I can count on the phone operator being willing to send a maintenance guy up to his room every time he oversleeps and misses his alarm.

I told him that he is responsible to get himself up, but that I don't mind being his backup. I sort of like knowing that he still needs me, even though he's 16 and living on his own in that dorm.

But six-and-a-half weeks is sounding really far away.

ZZZZzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzz

(a continuation of prior post)

I thought I'd reply to a few of your comments in a new post.

This isn't a military school. It's a school for gifted & talented kids. He's getting good grades and is one of his teacher's favorite students because of his participation and the way he processes concepts. It doesn't seem possible that he could be this close to getting suspended!

His last unexcused absence was a class he missed after he was already up! My 14 year old son has taken the responsibility to call the 16 year old every morning at 6:20 to make sure he is up, so we know he was up at 6:20. But apparently he fell asleep in his chair at a later time and slept until 10 am, totally missing his 8 am class.

He has ALWAYS been a kid who needs a ton of sleep. His ideal amount would probably be 9-12 hours per night. The homework load, coupled with the responsibilities involved with living on his own (laundry, etc) make it difficult to impossible to obtain anywhere close to this amount. As an infant (6-18 months), he regularly slept 13-16 hours straight. He knows he can't stay up late on school nights, so he is already trying to get done with homework earlier and get to bed earlier.

Once he is asleep, he can sleep through just about anything. The alarm is already at a place where he has to get up to shut it off. He can get up, shut it off, and go back to sleep without realizing it went off if he's tired. Yes, he sleeps that soundly.

He tried to use the beeping alarm, but said it wasn't loud enough to wake him, so he uses his ipod to wake to. The music gets continually louder, so it has the best chance of waking him.

Dual alarms, snooze bars, etc, do not work with him. Knowing he doesn't HAVE to get up to the alarm is one of the things that has taught his subconscious that he can just turn it off and ignore it when it goes off.

A sprinkler outside the window isn't really an option for a 4th floor dorm room. Nice idea though! I suggested storing marbles in his fridge freezer and letting a friend throw them into his bed if he isn't up. That might work.

But we came up with a slightly different option.

He MUST be up by 6:45 to have time to shower and get to breakfast before class. So he is going to move his alarm a half hour later so that when he hears it, he knows he can't shut it off and lay down for another 15 minutes.

Once he is up at 6:45, he is expected to call me to let me know he is up. If he doesn't call by 7 am, I will call first his cell phone, and then his room phone. I will call until 7:15, at which point I will call some predetermined sadistic friend of his who, I'm sure, will be quite happy to torture him awake.

We asked his roommate to help make sure he is up, but his roommate isn't quite sadistic enough.

Help!

My oldest son has always been a heavy sleeper. He could sleep through a tornado and wake up in Oz without realizing it.

So he's in boarding school, racking up unexcused absences because he can't seem to wake up. He sets his alarms, but either turns them off in his sleep or sleeps through them. My other son often calls him to make sure he is up. He falls back asleep.

If he gets any more unexcused absences this semester, he is subject to suspension. So he's got to serve hours and hours of detention to make up for the previous absences, and then be sure to not get any more.

He is dreading it, but I'm sure he can survive the detention. What I'm not sure is whether he can go two more months without any more absences.

We've asked his friends to help make sure he wakes up, but it's dangerous to rely on friends. He needs to learn how to wake himself up.

But how?

Anyone have any sure-fire ways to not sleep through alarms?

The blue towel

It's just an old blue towel. A wedding gift, long past it's prime, and probably badly in need of washing, it hangs on the towel bar in the bathroom.

And it will stay there as long as I can manage to keep it there.

Because it was his towel. And I can't bear to see the empty towel bar. Just the thought of that empty bar brings tears to my eyes.

Yesterday a friend asked if I cried after we dropped him off at school. I told him not too much on the way home, but I cried that night when I saw his towel in the bathroom and thought of it not being there.

My husband told me yesterday that we can keep the towel there.

That made me cry too.

It will take a while for me to get used to him not being here. And that old, raggy blue towel will stay there to help me adjust.

And maybe to catch a few tears too.

(I should note... he's not in college, he's only 16. This is a high school, though the classes are mostly college level. It's an awesome program for gifted/talented students but it's really tough having him gone.)

Two frickin' days

That's how much longer until he leaves.

Two days.

So much to pack. So much to remember to do. So many tears, just under the surface.

Two days.

*sigh*

(In other news, today is my parent's 59th anniversary. And they were here all day yesterday for the going away party. And I was so flustered by everything that I totally forgot their anniversary. I suck as a daughter.)

I've got a friend! (or at least I will!)

Last night, in between discussions on work schedule and when friend "Paddy" is coming over, Blondie let slip that he had been exchanging messages with Paddy to discuss it.

Blondie: Yes, I have a myspace account. [proudly] And I even have 4 friends.
Me: Is any of them a girl?
Blondie: [laughing] One... Jenny.

He laughed again as he mentioned that she has 400 friends. Jenny will be attending his new school too, so I'm glad they are at least somewhat friends. Of course, I don't think Jenny has ever met anyone who isn't a friend.

So then I did what any parent would do. I asked if I could be his friend too.

Blondie: You have to have a myspace account.
Me: [gives Blondie a "duh" look}
Blondie: You have one?
Me: Yup. And I even have one friend!

We discussed why I had made a myspace account (which I despise) as well as my one friend, conveniently ignoring my request to be his friend. But later, I walked into his room and sat sadly on his bed.

Blondie: What???????
Me: You won't be my friend. [cute pout]
Blondie: I don't have to be your friend. I see you every day.
Me: In a month you won't. In a month you'll be gone. [more cute pouts]
Blondie: Ok. In a month I'll be your friend. [brief pause to think] But then I won't have to use IM.
Me: [silence. trying to think fast.]
Blondie: Oh wait. I guess I do have to. I promised BG on the phone. Ok, I'll use IM too.

Yes, I really do make my kid talk to BG on the phone whenever possible. And now I owe her. Because he's not the most social kid on the planet [note the understatement there... lol] and she got him to agree to use IM. AND he's going to be my friend too.

Well... he already was, but soon I'll have proof. :)

Bad memories!

In the morning, I'm off to the doctor with Blondie. He's having his wisdom teeth removed.

I vaguely remember having mine out. I was 16 too. I had only two out, because for some reason my orthodontist decided to remove my 12 year molars on the other side instead of the wisdom teeth.

For the record, I would not recommend this.

Anyone who has had their wisdom teeth removed remembers how beautiful their face looked. For weeks, the swelling was reminiscent of a chipmunk with a few too many seeds stuffed into its cheeks.

And when you only have one side done? Let's just say the swelling lasts much longer than you think it does. But it's only obvious when the other side has no swelling.

They say that they put something into the IV to reduce swelling now. But if it works, I might curse at the doctor. After all, if I had to suffer my kids should have to also.

And next, I intend to make them walk to school, barefoot in the snow. Ten miles, uphill both ways. Just because.

---

update: Blondie & I were home in only 1 1/2 hours. I discovered that general anesthesia makes my normally quiet kid incredibly chatty. Couple that with gauze in his mouth because of the bleeding, and it makes for rather strange and humorous conversations.

He kept trying to tell me about his experience. Between the mumbles and hand gestures, I got something about IV's "going in here" and "then I was out and don't remember a thing". Repeated several times. I'm not sure if he was just so fascinated that he had to say it multiple times, or if he didn't remember saying it, or if he couldn't tell if I understood him.

I took him home and stuck him in bed and said, "Sleep." It seemed easier than carrying on a conversation.

He's still got an ice pack wrap around his face, and time will tell as to the extent of swelling. Based on a puffy lower lip, there may be no need for that uphill-both-ways hike that I mentioned earlier. We'll see.

About the birds & the bees

My daughter is going to be 12 soon. And my hubby has decreed that it's time to give her 'the talk'.

I hate that concept. That 'the talk' is a one-time thing. That you have to give it all to them at once. Sit them down and beat them over the head with the facts of life, so to speak.

My daughter and I talk pretty freely. She's still at the age where she thinks mom knows a thing or two. I dread the next couple of years... I know that will change! But for now, she asks me things when she has a question. And when she asks, I go into more detail on related topics, until she indicates that she has done all the listening she cares to do.

Then I stop. Because I'm not the beat-them-over-the-head type.

But I admit, I've been fearing 'the talk'. Because I know there are things she won't ask me. And I really don't know how and where to begin with it.

Yes I do know the details. I just have no experience in how to explain them to a kid that age. Because MY talks from MY parents? Went like this.

Talk #1 - with mom. End of 7th grade.

Mom: (filling out Lara's summer camp forms) You do know about menstruation, right?
Lara: (who learned in 5th grade health classes & from asking questions of a cousin) Yes.

End of talk #1.

Talk #2 - with dad. Summer break, sometime during college years. I forget the lead-in topic. Thank goodness for small blessings.

Dad: Sex should wait until marriage.
Lara: (no comment. Silently wondering why I'm getting 'the talk' at age 20!)
Dad: Your mom and I are old, but we still enjoy it.
Lara: (still no comment. I really don't want to think about this!)

End of talk #2. Whew!

So you see, my only experience with having the talk personally was only helpful in what NOT to do.

I sort of gave 'the talk' to my oldest son, probably when he was a 4th grader or so. The hubby wasn't too happy about that - apparently it's the father's job. So he conveniently forgot about that, and only remembers how HE gave both boys their talk.

But really, I did it first. Blondie & I were at a mall. He wandered off, as he typically does. And when I found him, in a panicked voice I told him, "You can't just wander off. If I lose you, your father will want me to replace you, and I am NOT having more kids."

Dumb statement, I know. Because he is a bright kid. And his immediate answer? "So how do you keep from having kids?"

Yeah, definitely the topic you want to cover in the center of a shopping mall. But I knew he wasn't going to be put off any longer; I'd been putting him off ever since he was in kindergarten and watched a PBS show on fertilization showing videos of sperm swimming and banging their poor little heads into eggs.

Or maybe it was earlier when he was 3 or 4, sitting in the bathtub. He noticed his stiffy, and asked me, "Does it have a bone in it?"

"Sometimes."

Priceless

I know I haven't been posting much lately... for a variety of reasons. The mammogram/ultrasound thing had me slightly worried, and made it difficult to focus on anything else to post about, but I didn't want to continually post about that issue either.

I've been enjoying the spring weather, working in my perennial garden when I have the time. Last weekend my daughter and I spent a few hours outside pulling baby maple trees and trimming off dead stalks from last year. Afterward she commented about how relaxing it was to be out in the garden, and how much she enjoyed doing it together.

I have to admit, I usually prefer being out there alone.

My husband makes my garden a chore instead of a retreat. If I weed a quarter of it, his comment is, "That looks great so far. Do you think you can get it finished within a week so we can get mulch on it?" He has almost ruined one of my favorite things.

But last weekend... my daughter went a long way in restoring it. She had the right attitude. We worked quietly, chatting at times, silent at others. She asked about the plants she found. I told her when they bloom, and what is special about them.

As I pulled little trees from within my multiple lavender bushes, she discovered that real lavender smells so much more wonderful than the small sachet that she has which is saturated in lavender oil. Just the plant's leaves, even without the flowers. And when I told her we could save some of the flowers and dry them this summer, she just beamed.

She asked if we could put a bench in the garden so she could sit in it sometimes. And when we went to the store together, to see if we could find a small bench we liked, she carried along a sprig of lavender greens and sniffed.

There's something about digging in the soil... seeing small sprouts returning year after year... smelling the faint scent of lavender as you clip dead branches... pricking yourself with the dead stalks of the rosebush that miraculously seems to have survived yet another year...

Doing it all with a friend makes it that much better.

And when that friend is your 11-year-old daughter? Priceless.

Damn. I want one too!

This morning I was lying in bed, ignoring the fact that I should be getting kids up for school. In walked my daughter.

Daughter: Mom? This morning I woke up at 5:30.

Me: Yeah, it was probably because the phone rang. Someone called and didn't talk when I answered.

Daughter: No, my alarm went off. I was just listening to the radio because I was too lazy to turn it off, but my bed started vibrating.

Me: Vibrating?

Daughter: Yeah, and then I turned off the alarm, and it vibrated a little more and then stopped.

Me: Wow. And you didn't even have to put a quarter in it?

Edit: For those who wondered why I bought my daughter a vibrating bed. Really, I didn't. Now stop dialing the CPS number please.

Confession time

I was a SAHM. Kind of. But not really. I guess that makes it ok then, right? Cause we all know that SAHM is a bad word.

See, back in the early 90's when my first son was born, I dropped down to half-time work so I could spend more time with him.

And 1 1/2 years later, when I got pregnant with #2? Since I had just, finally, paid off my brain and we could almost afford it, I told my company goodbye. Of course, then I offered to still work for them. Just more on my terms.

I guess when you've kind of made yourself indispensable at work, you can get away with that.

So there's your tip for the day. If you wanna know if you are indispensable at work, just quit and see if they'll let you start working part time and doing it from home (or whatever other ridiculous terms you come up with, because trust me, back then, working from home was not commonplace like it is now.) Or maybe you just need to ask right after about 3 of their longest-term employees have left, meaning you are the one remaining long-termer who actually knows their work.

That works too.

But the end result was me, at home, with a newborn and a 2 year old, trying to find time to get out of my pajamas accomplish something between naps and diaper changes. On days that managing to get a shower would have been an accomplishment, I was supposed to actually work.

Sure I did take them to the park some days. Sometimes I even got us all cleaned and dressed in time that we could make it to the weekly play day at McDonald's. But I felt like I was shortchanging everything and everyone.

We hired college kids... relatives... neighbors... (anyone we could find, actually) to come to the house and babysit part-time so I could get my daily shower get some work time in. We had them put away dishes, fold laundry, or do other random tasks of lesser importance that would otherwise not get done among the craziness of daily life.

And I wondered, often, why I had wanted this so badly. Because life before kids used to be much more sane.

Fighting the good fight

I remember when I first became self-conscious about my body.

It was August, the week of my birthday. I was just about to turn 5. We were on our family vacation, at a campground we frequented. I was on the beach, wearing my saggy, stretched out, hand-me-down faded blue & gray striped one-piece swimsuit. And I realized that my stomach stuck out.

Why that struck me rather than the hideousness of that god-awful swimsuit, I will never know.

And I'm not sure how I even knew that that point that stomachs were supposed to be flat. It wasn't like I was exposed to a huge number of perfect bodies. In my family, women were all shaped like pears. Some smaller pears, some larger pears. But pears we were, with not an hourglass to be seen.

So at age five, in my ugly saggy swimsuit, I began to identify my abdominal muscles and work to hold them in. Over the years, holding those muscles tight has become such a habit that I can barely relax them when I try.

Last year my daughter, at age 10, told me she was fat. This coming from a beautiful little girl who at the time wore size 12 slim. It's enough to make a mother furious. Who tells these kids that they have to be emaciated to be thin enough?

I calmly told her that she was definitely NOT fat. I made her take a pair of her pants and read me the tag. I asked if she knew what the "S" on the tag meant, and informed her that anyone who wears a size that has "slim" in the name cannot possibly be considered fat.

She showed me her tummy.

Yes, she has the same little pouch that I so hated at age 5. Perhaps I am lucky that it took her twice as many years to learn to hate it. She commented about how my tummy is flat, and hers sticks out.

(Trust me, mine ISN'T flat!! Hers is much flatter. But I guess mommies are SUPPOSED to have tummies in her mind.)

So I pulled up my shirt and pulled down my jeans. I stood there in my panties in front of her and had her watch as I forced the abdominal muscles to relax. I showed her my tummy that appears 4 months pregnant. At least. She thought I was pushing it out, but I confirmed that this was simply the muscles sagging. I showed her the difference that muscle tone can make.

I don't mind if she wants to work on abdominal exercises. I think she should... everyone should. I even do them with her, to show her how I fight it. Core body strength is incredibly important, and she's got my genes for tummy, so she probably got them for back problems too.

But there is no way I will allow my perfectly normal, slightly curvy (yeah, she's got my hips too) and gorgeous little girl to believe that a little tummy pouch means she is fat. Or that a little fat means she isn't good enough.

The world does too good of a job at that. It's my job to fight it.