Decision

January 20, 2005 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

Bear thinks snow is a treat. He loves helping CD shovel and building snowmen and digging snow tunnels. He loves his snow boots and his new gloves and throwing snowballs.

Picture by Elizabeth: Snowy night on our lane, 01/2005

Bear had a busy day yesterday, what with school and karate class and then open classroom night back at his school. By the time we all got home with a bag of Panda Express take-out at 7:30PM, we were all beat.

What I meant to say, was that CD and I were beat, and grumpy. Bear was still up, up, up. "It's SNOWING!" he announced as we pulled into the driveway. But we were spoilsports and told him to come inside. Eat first, shovel later.

After dinner, I opted to head to bed. Bear followed me with an armful of books. He informed me he was going to read me to sleep.

He told me the stories in 4 books. Reciting words by heart, making things up when he couldn't remember the words. He patted my sleepy head in between books, and took the time to stop and show me the pictures before he turned the pages.

When he was done, he made sure I was tucked in and kissed my head.

That's the kind of kid my kid is.

The day he learned about the Tsunami victims, we began remembering them in the prayers we say before we eat. That night, we were talking about what we could do to help.

Bear decided we should give the money from our change jar. When it was explained to him that this would mean no treats for a while - like gumballs and movie rentals, he looked straight at me and said "That's OK, we have a house."

I've been scared to death since talking with his teacher that something might actually be wrong with Bear. That we have somehow hurt his spirit or his emotional health.

My Bear, who pays such close atention in karate class, who loves the snow, who reads me stories, and who wants to give his gumball money to the Tsunami victims. I thought and prayed a lot about my little 4-year old miracle with the chubby cheeks and glossy red hair, who asks if he can help about 100 times a day and who's imperious at times, and impatient, and yes - even hyper.

Yes, I've spent the last couple of days agonizing about it. Talking with my friend the social worker. Observing him, looking for wounds in his soul or alarms in his behavior. And by 5AM this morning, in the pink glow of the snowy sky, I made a decision.

We're going to be OK.

About the boy

January 19, 2005 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

His lead teacher spoke to me at length. Like 45 minutes.

It seems that while Bear is sweet, funny, gregarious, bright, active, and curious.... since the holiday break he's also been a little - hyper.

She said that most kids come back from holidays and long weekends this way. Unable to settle down or ignoring her instructions. That even a time-out only brings them in line for about 5 minutes.

But Bear hasn't "settled down" even though the rest of the class has. That she has to get right in his face and demand his attention several times a morning. That he is using all the "works" (Montessori learning materials) as weapons (ka-pow ka-pow) against the rules. She laughed a little and said that Bear is not the only one - but is something of a ringleader.

She's been his teacher for 2 years, and really likes Bear. So I knew this was hard for her.

She asked if there was something going on at home.

All I could think was - CD and I have finally patched together a good peace, a strong path forward and faith that we're on the right path...

And now? Now? Now my sweet Bear is (finally?) acting out.

*sigh*

Post Script: Bear doesn't have ADD or ADHD or other disorders. We're pretty sure this is acting out. When he wants to, he has amazing concentration and reasoning skills and can control his behavior.

The Worst 4 Words

January 18, 2005 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

I just have to say this - Rainbow Feather is fine. He's home and he's happy.

And when I said I hate birds - I meant the ones in cages. I have a feeder right outside my office window. I get a kick from the rare Cardinal sighting, the afternoon coos from the loon in Autumn. M'kay?

Of course, yes, I do also like eating birds. With a nice Chianti. But that's another show all together.

So this morning, I put my game shirt back on and showed up for work ready to take the plate. By the time I had to leave and go pick up Bear from his morning Montessori program, I was feeling pretty empowered, I tell you what.

Hopping to keep warm at the school entrance, waiting for my son, his teacher caught my eye and waved me closer to her. And then she uttered those words that deflated my whole mood. The Worst 4 Words in the English language:

We've got to talk.

I must have given her quite the look. Because she added; It's nothing too bad. I'll call you this afternoon.

Ugh.

Rainbow Feathers and Me

January 17, 2005 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

We had a 3-day weekend because of the Martin Luther King Holiday. Since we have clearly pissed off someone at Bear's Montessori school, we got to share this weekend with a garrulous bird named Rainbow Feathers.

I am not a bird person. Rainbow Feathers somehow knew this and squawked at me. A lot. All weekend.

3 in the morning, getting myself a glass of water. SQUAWK! Practically dropped of a heart attack right there in the kitchen.

Filling his food tray, hopped over near me and tried to BITE me! When I told him to behave? He SQUAWKED up a storm. And let me tell you, I don't speak bird but I am pretty sure he was saying some pretty nasty things.

I got my own back. I made homemade chicken salad, and ate it right there - in full view of the bird. Heh. Take that. Oh, yeah. You be afraid, you twinkie-sized waste of feathers.

While I was ate it, I kept going with the pot and turned the bones and remaining chicken into homemade stock. The house smelled like chicken soup for hours.

Then the bird looked... I dunno. Don't laugh at me. But, sad. I started feeling pretty bad for being so petty. So I found the bird a treat - some peanut stuff he was supposed to like.

The bird rewarded me by sticking his ass up against the side of the cage and trying to poop on the floor.

How is it that this bird can share a classroom with 20 bright, curious preschoolers and 2 of the nicest teachers you'll ever meet for 3 hours every day and be mean and calculating? Explain that to me.

Rainbow Feathers did not come with instructions. They sent this bird home with us without instructions. All there was in his little overnight bag was his cover and some food.

This was all the help they gave dumbass people like us - who, I kid you not, could not figure out what kind of bird this is. Searched the whole freaking Internet. Looked at more bird pictures than I EVER want to see in a lifetime.

Big birds. Little birds. Birds with funny beaks. Greenish yellow birds. Yellow greenish birds. Birds that sing, whistle, and tweet.

I hate birds.

Couldn't look up instructions if you can't figure out what kind of bird you got.

Which prompted CD to comment that this was probably Rainbow Feathers the 16th. There's a pet store somewhere that keeps Rainbow Feathers clones on hand for that regular Sunday night occurance - the parent running in with a dead bird saying "You got something that looks just like this?"

Otherwise, these 3 days have gone by so fast. For those keeping score - I got 60% of my to-do list done, including a plan of attack for saving my program.

And we also had a lot of fun - cooking, coloring, playing Scrabble (Bear stole all the "B's" because they were his), and enjoying time in the warmth of our family room in front of the fire.

But the best part. And I mean, the very best part. That will be tomorrow morning.

When we take Rainbow Feathers BACK.

GMAIL

January 12, 2005 | Category:

GMail just bestowed me with 10 new invites. If you want a free GMAIL account, let me know.

Lucky

I recently followed a link from another blog to a little girl named Savannah [warning: midi music on page!].

Savannah is sick with a chronic and life-threatening disease. She is lovely, with curly brown hair and a gorgeous smile. And she is facing a transplant that the doctors hope will help her.

Her smile has been haunting me.

This morning, Bear packed up (as he will) all his favorite bed stuff (including the stuffed animal) and travelled across the hall and into bed between CD and I. He does this almost every morning.

We all talked softly for a bit and then CD headed off to take a shower. Bear snuggled closer to me and stroked my face.

Mommy, you're beautiful, he said.

I kissed his forehead and counted the freckles on his face. I found 12.

He squirmed and decided to share my pillow with me. Because of the bazillion pillows on our bed, clearly I had the primo one.

I tickled him and he giggled.

And then I started to cry.

What's wrong? Bear asked.

Nothing, honey.

Then why are you crying?

How to you tell your son that you're crying because he's a living miracle and you know just how blessed you are to have his small, healthy body next to yours? That his big heart is an inspiration to your life?

I told him that it was happy tears, because we are so lucky to be a family.

And then I told him to go brush his teeth.

How To

January 11, 2005 | Category: In My Life

I was born under a rock.

I have no other explanation for how I ended up, at nineteen years old, living on my own without any of the most basic skills.

My first month in that first apartment, I washed my car with undiluted Spic and Span. Just poured the granules onto the car one sunny day, sprayed the hose and went to town.

The cop who pulled me over the next week had to ask.

Miss, what did you DO to your car?

I told him. I said I washed it with Spic and Span and now it was fugly and I didn't know why.

To this day I think he gave me that speeding ticket partly on account of my being so stupid.

Other people, they are a story of great romance or high mystery in their walk through life. They are self-help relevations. They marvel at the world as though it was a travel book full of big glossy pictures.

Me?

Yeah, I'm the 'How-To' experience. White paper, black ink, and some 3D sketches.

My very competant parents tried, Heaven help them. You clean the gutters every fall. You break an egg like this. You write thank-you notes immediately.

But somehow, none of it stuck to my brain. The words went in, bounced around, and then fell out my ears while I slept.

So there I was, on my own. And I had no idea how to check the oil in the car, how to balance my checkbook or create a budget, had no clue from pilot lights in the stove and couldn't properly shave my legs.

A day didn't go by that I wasn't either bleeding, broke, hungry or scrambling to find a ride to work.

This went on and on. Until I realized, Hey this is life.

As soon as I learn one thing, shit if there isn't always going to be another to learn right behind it. And knowing me, the hard way.

I was thinking about that today when I got a call from one of the junior folks.

My vendor had a meeting with my customer. Without me. She confessed. What do I do?

This was bad.

As a project manager, you are the Contractor on the job site. You represent all the work and all the vendors to your customer seemlessly. If the Roofing guy talks to your customer and tries to cut you out, that is a violation of the entire process. It's also a breach of contract.

And Junior was counting on me to tell her how to deal with it.

So I did. I walked her through it.

How do you know how to deal with this? She asked me.

I could have said, it's standard Project Manager process. Which it is, but of course I didn't learn it that way.

I learned because I once took a flamethrower to a vendor over a 50 million dollar contract. And once I had pretty much burned down the house, the yard, the block, the car, the vendor, and oh - myself.... along came a guy, probably dressed in black.

He leaned over my steaming self and said, calmly, You know Maverick, we got lawyers for this.

Junior laughed. They say there isn't much you don't know how to do.

I thought about the Engine light on mini-van, my "Universal" remote control, the so-called instructions to my son's Lego Pirate Ship, the dozens of burnt Christmas cookies I threw away this year, my unused wireless laptop, my unsubmitted travel expenses, and the 72 inches of paper that represents my retirement plan.

They, I told Junior firmly, would be wrong.

Quod erat demonstrandum

January 09, 2005 | Category: In My Life

That which was to be proved...

*ahem*

Is this thing on? Testing... testing... 1. 2. 3.

OK, for the record. ...

These are Days

January 08, 2005 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

SO Bear has decided he doesn't need naps any more.

Except, he does. Which is how we ended up at the grocery store this evening with a wired up 4-year-old bouncing in the cart in the exact manner it says not to do. Right there, in the pictograms.

We barely made it to the check-out lane with our sanity intact.

Note: Every Friday we get an "allowance". We take out the money we will need for the week: Babysitter, Groceries, Take-Out, Gas for the car, like that. When the cash is gone, it better be next Friday.

So CD asks me, casually, as they are ringing up the magilla-billion items from our cart, grabbed in haste while keeping our overtired son from committing 4 kinds of federal mayhem. He asks me, as we read on the rags facing us that Jen and Brad are Together! Breaking Up!, How much money do we have for groceries.

And I freeze.

I have no flipping clue.

And as I start to pull out my wallet to see how much money we have, and I look over and realize that the cashier in the next lane is the boy next door. Literally, our neighbor's son. Who has been forced by his mother to babysit for us on occasion and I think that's why he growls and runs when he sees us.

And in my head, I picture it: I don't have enough money, CD's left the cash card at home, we're torn between charging groceries on the credit card or having the manager come over and approve a void. The line behind us grows restless. And there, the boy from next door, watching us.

All this. Because I have a mind that Stephen King would envy, y'all.

Just an average day at the grocery store... but NO, now they are "THE NEIGHBORHOOD OUTCASTS".

The total came to $120. I had that and money to spare. Of course I did, silly. We do this every week.

Gotta dial back on the Tylenol or something.

I made sure we waved to the neighbor boy as we were leaving. Us, lovely family. Who had PLENTY of money. And who's son is not the one yelling C0ck-c0ck-c0ck-c0ck-a-DOODIE! as we head for the exit.

How to charm me

January 04, 2005 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

So, being the people we are - we did the math. How much we can afford to pay for a car without having to do the Bad Thing.

You know, the Bad Thing. Incure a Car Payment.

So we set ourselves a budget. Looked at the cost of keeping the Piece of Sh*t car on the road. Talked about priorities. And then, because he had to take the morning off, CD hit the web. Edmunds. Carmax. Like that.

10 minutes later, he instant messages me.

With a link to a used Jag.

In our price range.

Ha! I scoffed (Scoffed!). What about...? I shouted to him, 3 rooms away. Repairs. Upkeep. Insurance!

He ambles to my office, leans against my desk.

Honey, face it. It's in our budget.

We can't have a Jag in Pleasantville, I demur.

He raises an eyebrow. (Damn, I wish I could do that.)

We'll get a Honda, I suggest. Safe. Reliable. Gas efficient, I remind my husband, the Environmentalist. Friendly to the environment. If only there was a used hybrid in our price range....

He shrugs. Look, the Jag is in our price range. It's a second car, you've always wanted one, and we can afford it.

I sit, stunned. I sit, charmed. A puddle of charmed. He winks at me. I smile. It occurs to me, that this is the first time in the longest time that he has pushed one of my fantasies, one of my never-will-happen dreams. The silly things. The things that you mention, looking in the window without ever really thinking they will come true.

It feels warm and good.

I wink back.

I can't stand the rain

Adam Sandler wrote a song about our other car (a Geo Prizm).

It's called "Piece of Sh*t Car".

It's an ode to what this car does to our lives.

When CD bought this car, nearly new, more than 7 years ago, it was like heaven.

But this thing is begging for the trash pile:

1) It doesn't like rain. It refuses to start in rain or even high humidity. It stalls in the rain. (But it likes snow. Go figure.)

2) It's been through 4 alternators. Pep Boys is really regretting that lifetime guarantee thing - because the last 2 were on them.

3) It's doesn't like being ignored. If it isn't started every day, it will mulishly refuse to take us anywhere.

I woke up this morning to discover that CD wasn't at work. Why? Because the Geo was wet, feeling ignored, and had decided today would not be a good day.

It's a BAD car that incites the following sentence....

CD (to me): Honey, don't worry. It's supposed to snow tomorrow so we should be fine.