Little Earthquakes

Happy Birthday Gus

Well, Gus the Fuss is 4.  Or "Foursy," as he says, because Gus has to have his own spin on pretty much everything.

Gus came in this morning and Alex and I sang Happy Birthday as he hid under the covers shouting, "It's not my birthday! It's not!! I'm only 3 and a half!"  Yeah, kid, I know the feeling.  Lali licked his leg and Elvis the Foster dog (aka "Stinky Face" because he has horrible hot breath) breathed in his face.

We made strawberry banana smoothies for breakfast and convinced Gus that he is indeed 4 now.  We then had an exceedingly evasive conversation about how babies come out of their mother's body.  I didn't outright lie, but I'm sure both children are completely confused.

Upon entering Kindercare, every teacher came out of their rooms to high five Gus and wish him a Happy Birthday.  He looked like he was lit from within. By the time we walked the long hallway to Grandma's room, he was literally jumping up and down. 

I just finished putting up streamers in the dining room and his requested chocolate cake is in the oven right now.  His presents are all piled on the table just waiting to be wrapped. 

Happy Birthday little kid. 

My Head Actually is Screwed On Straight, I Swear

As I was thinking about writing this post, I was thinking about all of the hyperlinks to past entries to demonstrate my points.  But there would be far too many links. 

My main point? Goddamn it, I'm trying really really really hard to be a good mom but sometimes I think the universe just likes to laugh at me. 

Omar pled financial instability (think of the Monopoly guy with his hands pulling out his empty pockets) so in order to help him Alex is now taking the school bus rather than going to Kindercare before and after school.  Yesterday, I dutifully called the school to tell them about the change, emailed her teacher and showed up in the office in the afternoon to fill out the necessary forms.  I was kind of proud of myself for even knowing what the hell I was doing.

The Receptionist at the school intimidates the hell out of me, just like salon receptionists and trendy restaurant hostesses - she's all judgy and glaring and that day was no exception.  She handed me the school bus route list and told me to pick which bus Alex would take and she would call the bus driver right then.  As I was leafing through the 10 font, 7 page back to back list desperately trying to find the right route, she menacingly sat with her phone in her hand, waiting.  I said, "It's so difficult when there are 200 Merrimac Lanes, 72 Xenia Avenues and 312 Fernbrook Lanes in Maple Grove...I'm not sure which Merrimac and Peony Lane is the right one...there appear to be 7..."  She said nothing, just sighed and firmly put the phone back in the receiver.  I finally figured it out and left, feeling like my tail was between my legs.  Later that afternoon, her teacher called me because Alex told her I was picking her up after school and she wanted to remind me that I can't just pick my daughter up, I need to call the school and email her at least 24 hours in advance.  I mentioned that I knew that, but it was a Monday and we were coming off of a 2 week holiday and I couldn't really call or email anyone 24 hours in advance.  She said, "Well, just a reminder for you then. Have a good day," and hung up. 

Alex could barely contain her excitement last night.  She was even making up songs about taking the bus.  I had to stop myself from chiming in and singing, "....and the diesel fumes in the winter will make you feel dizzy and sick to your stomach....and when you hit potholes you'll swear you just hit the ceiling....then the bus will hit a curb and you will scream in certainty that the bus is going to roll ovvverrrr...."  I thought I'd let her make her own songs up.

Anyway, back to the point of this post.  This morning we awoke to find that the weather insists on being mind bogglingly cold, so I told Al that I'd drive her to the bus stop.  I checked the bus route again and it said to be at the corner of Peony and Merrimac at 8:33 am, so we were heading there at precisely 8:27 and guess what?!  I saw the bus pulling up to the corner and the kids lining up to get on. I couldn't believe we might actually miss the bus on Alex's first day. I had visions of her disasterous first day at school this year. Oh hell, no.   I floored it and went screeching up to the corner shouting military-style to Alex, "GO GO GO GO!"

So. I made sure to tell all the right people at school.  I followed all of the procedures and filled out all of the forms.  The school Receptionist acted like I was retarded. Al's teacher called me to remind me of something I couldn't have possibly fullfilled and then hung up on me. Then I almost missed Alex's bus even though I was 6 minutes earlier than I was supposed to be.

To top it off, on the way to Kindercare with Gus, he said, "Mommy, you forgot to tell Daddy to bring my blanket for naptime.  I didn't have a blankie yesterday and you should have remembered." 

Sigh.  Thanks kid.

My iPod was on Shuffle Today

I'm having an introspective day.  On these days, it can either go up or down hill, but it rarely stays right in the sacred middle ground.  Unfortunately for me, about 2 blocks from my home I saw the most horrific deer/fence accident and nearly turned my car into a bridge embankment to avoid the sight.  "Oh that's not good at ALL," I thought as I sped up to get to the Bloody Mary I knew I would need to guzzle to recover from it.

To make things worse - Christy Trivia Alert! - I make foul Bloody Marys.  Really, they're bad.

Anyhoo, the day got worse. I have two active stalkers right now, one more dangerous (I think, but who knows?) than the other.  I guess I could look at the positive side and think, "hey, I've still got it," as I chicken strut Mick Jaggerish around in my 10 year old mom jeans and faded Northstars sweatshirt in my kitchen.  All fun imagery aside, let's just not deal with the stalkers right now because this one would be what my or any therapist would term "a trigger" for bad emotions. 

So, back to scheduled programming: As I was driving on my as-yet undefined introspective day, I noticed every song being shuffled by my iPod seemed to have such meaning to me.  Silly, laughable meaning.  Even as I was thinking, "My iPod really gets me today. Something is speaking to me. I should listen to this, louder even...."  I was kind of laughing at myself.

So here's what was going on in the car after dropping the kids off, all running together fast through my mind:
"We're only a phone call from our knees..."Oh wow, that's so true, I mean you never know when someone could just up and die on you and you should really be aware of that as you go through life and "When I said I'd take it, I meant as is..." totally, I always do and why doesn't anyone ever believe me? I'm not that much of a bullshitter. "And still I fear I said too much, my silence is my self defense..." Maybe that's why I have communication issues. "All your life is just a shame, shame, shame, now darlin, you don't wanna waste your life..." Oh no, I wonder if that's somebody trying to send me a message through my iPod like that Bruce Willis movie where his wife died and he heard her through the radio.  Or was that Bruce? Maybe another guy, because he was in Sixth Sense, would he do two movies like that? "These days I think alot about all the things I forgot to do, and all the times I had the chance to..." I wonder if I'm going to be thinking that more and more now. "I woke up in the ditches and I hit the light and thought you might be there, but you were nowhere to be found, no, you were no where near home..." yeah, I know about that sucka. "No right mind could wrong be, this many times. A memory is cruel, Queen of Attention to Details, defending intentions if he fails..." I should be more detail oriented, I didn't spellcheck my notes from that last phone interview.

Yep, and then I saw the deer on the fence and had a sucky Bloody Mary and the stalkers started biting at my heels and I slid down the hill.  

The End.

My Car is Emotional.

Hey, crazy, but I’m sitting in my mechanic’s lobby this morning, waiting for him to put brakes on my car.

In typical Hostile MJ fashion, she started squeaking her brakes about a month ago and I began thinking that yes, it was probably time for front brakes.  Then this morning I got the other typical Hostile MJ message on my screen that continuously chimed and flashed in red:
BRAKE FAULT
STOP
SEVERE WARNING
BRAKE FAULT
STOP – CHECK OWNER MANUAL

Jesus.  It should also have a skull and cross bones symbol.

I wish my car would sort of ease into its emergency situations.  It goes from slight issue to “I’m about to explode and don’t you dare drive me” really quickly.  Are all Germans this emotional?

Anyway, turns out my mechanic doesn’t have WiFi so I am writing blog posts and emails offline and feeling scarily disconnected.  

I considered walking the mile or so to the nearest Perkins in the hopes of finding coffee and an internet connection but I’m ridiculously dressed for walking or for spending more than 3.2 minutes outdoors.  In fact, my boots are absurd and I’m wondering if I’ll make it really anywhere outdoors today in them.  I’ve called Tony to my rescue and he said “Sure. I’ll drive you anywhere,” which makes my eyes all big and watery in my gratitude.  So that’s good.  He’ll drive me to the door of a Caribou or something and I’ll stumble my way through the slush and ignore the people rolling their eyes at my stupid boots and my inability to walk in them.  Maybe I’ll drag one of the haters down with me – and then 'accidentally' kick them with my pointy stilletto.

 

Mrs. Jensen is Not My Biggest Fan

Have you ever started off on the wrong foot with someone and it seems like there is some cosmic force out there making every other interaction with them awful? 

Well, unfortunately for me, that person is Alex's 3rd grade teacher.

We all heard about how we missed Orientation and how Alex kicked off her first day.  I emailed her teacher the following morning to tell her Al hadn't had the bang-up day we'd all expected and a little extra help getting her acclimated would be much appreciated.  She seemed chipper enough in her response.

The next faux pas is that I completely and totally forgot my first school conference with her.  Yep. Blew it right off.   At the rescheduled conference, she made Alex and I sit in the kiddie chairs, me with my knees up to my earlobes, while she sat in her mesh Big Person Chair. I was also having a cat lady hair day - beautiful.  

She told Alex how "all of the other kids in class get 100% scores on their spelling tests" but that Alex doesn't because we don't study at home "like all the other kids in class who are obviously studying hard with their parents."  Sigh.  I told her I wasn't aware that they don't study spelling in the classroom and would certainly begin working with Alex immediately.  She threw her dagger in about me missing Orientation so I couldn't possibly have known about that so it really isn't my fault.  I tried to turn the tide and show that I am a good parent! I am a good parent! by telling her about how my mother had bought Alex some books and that we were going to read them together.  I instantly sensed my mistake.  "I don't....agree.... with those books," she said piously.  "Oh?" I asked faintly.  "They are worded confusingly and undermine the efforts that we teachers are making." Mentally, I pictured the Hindenburgh video - the ship gliding along and then suddenly bursting into flames and crashing into the ground.

The rest of the meeting went much the same. By the end of the meeting, my body language was ridiculous. I think I might've crossed my arms so hard over my chest that I was clasping my hands behind my back.  My legs were even crossed away from her and I was leaning over the opposite side of my chair from the woman.  I should've just turned my back on her, it might've been more comfortable for me and conveyed the same message I was (subconciously) trying to give.

Since then, I've inexplicably lost forms, signed the wrong pages in Alex's daily planner, missed carnivals and failed to volunteer for the Halloween and Holiday parties.  What the hell?

Last night's issue made me realize that this might run a little deeper.  I signed my own name wrong on her request form for conferences in January.  Cristy Nichol.  Honest to God.

Serial Killer

I remember as a kid hearing about other kids having to play with old broken toys.  Teddy bears without eyes and dolls with no heads, etc.  Or maybe that was just my dramatic child brain imagining what it would be like to be an orphan or something.  Whatever.

Anyway, Alex was sitting in her room the other day playing with Barbie dolls.  I took a closer look and saw that one had 2/3 of her arm chewed off and only one foot.  The other was entirely bald except for a few patches of blond hair.  The Ken doll and no legs at all.  It was pathetic and I resolved to make sure Al got a few new Barbies for Christmas.  I asked Al if she was having fun and why she was playing with such mangled toys.  She looked at me and said, "Mom. I don't discriminate against the handicapped." I backed out of the room and had to sit on the step outside of her room and silently laugh (again). 

Here are the crime scenes for the Barbies:

And the prime offender of the Nichols House Barbies?

LALI, the reason for our huge population of "Handicapped Barbies."
 
 

Levi

While unemployed (which now I'm not - again - and I'll get to that later), I decided I ought to be doing something more than playing Warcraft, drinking, finding ways to not eat and finding ways to be healthy(ish) when I have to eat.  So, I thought about what I like to do besides the aforementioned things, and could only really come to one main thing: dogs.

So, I looked at Lali and remembered how I came to acquire her, and I volunteered to be a foster mom for a dog.  And then I panicked.  WTF?!  Really. What. The. Fuck. was I thinking?  What if I got a dog full of worms and eye infections and skin issues? And hello, puppies don't sleep and eat normally and they poop on the floor.

But then I remembered that I don't sleep either, none of us eat normally anymore, my youngest child wets the bed and I'm really just hanging around, wishing someone would poop on the floor, so this isn't that nuts at all. 

About 3 days later I picked up Levi, a 4 month old Tree Walker Coonhound who was scheduled to be put down the day before at an overwhelmed Missouri animal shelter.  Here's what he looked like when I picked him up:
 
He was a fantastic puppy and the kids and I adored having him.  He smelled like a barn when we got him and he was so thin that water pooled in his shoulder and hip bones when I bathed him.  One week into our fostering we met Evonne, a vet tech from my vet's office, at an adoption event that I was attending with Levi.  She had lost lost her Coonhound a year ago to Cancer and was struggling with her loss. 

After 3 weeks of living with us, Levi was adopted by Evonne's family.  He won the doggie lottery, that's for sure. 

In spite of everyone's concern about the kids and I handling a foster pup's adoption, we all handled it like pros.  I set it up that our job was to get Levi healthy and happy for his 'real' family, and we needed to teach him good manners, how to be a loving puppy and to trust us and other animals.  That's how we approached it and that's how we lived with him.  The kids are asking daily for another 'foster project' but I think we're going to wait until after Christmas and possibly after their birthdays to do it again.  I loved (almost) every second of the experience and I feel like we finally are able to give back a little.

Here's Levi, the night before he went to his new family:

 

Home Again, Home Again....

So, we went on a hiring freeze in mid-September.  It seems weird now to say "we."  The writing was on the wall and I spent the next few weeks answering my boss' calls from Virginia with trepidation.  So when she called to say they couldn't really justify my presence any longer (my favorite line), it wasn't much of a surprise.  I was prepared.  The tough part is that I was so prepared that I knew that the timing couldn't be worse.  Most companies go on formal or informal freezes just before Halloween and typically stay that way through mid-January.  In this economy, it's even tighter and most recruiters right now are hanging onto their desks by their fingernails.

I spent the next few weeks aggressively pursuing pretty much anyone I've ever met in an attempt to drum up employment opportunities.  The world yelled in unison, "Your attempts are FUTILE!"

So now I'm at home, looking at completing my 4th week of unemployment.  At first I panicked a bit, wondering how in the hell this would all play out.  I knew (and I still know) damn well that I will probably not find anything until after Christmas.  I still felt confident and assured all the worriers in my life that I'd be just fine, I did this last summer, it's not like I am going into unknown territory.

But you know what?  Life threw me another curveball.  Who knew?  What I hadn't considered was that unemployment in the Fall/Winter, as a single, full time mom is different than unemployment in the Summer without kids and having a boyfriend. Now, no one comes home at 6:00 to change up the day.  I don't have the option of sitting on the deck and reading books voraciously.  Now, my days start at 5:30, I take the kids to school, I spend the day creatively thinking of things to do, going for runs and running like I'm escaping (again), becoming a Dog Park Freak (again) and then getting the kids and coming back to my very well lived in home.

It's a good formula for getting overwhelmed and I admit I spend 4 out 7 days in that state. The first two weeks were probably more skewed towards depression, but the last few have been a bizarre mishmash of ups and downs.  I sleep for odd hours at odd times.  I check and respond to emails, texts and Facebook messages at all hours of the day.  I just got off of a 4 day period of wearing absolutely no makeup at all. 

I've been accused of being negative lately, which is a little surprising because I do feel like I naturally look for the silver lining.  The silver lining about all this? I am completely changing the way I look at things and how I live.  Things that were so shallow (and so important) aren't so much now.  I allow myself to spend a whole afternoon in bed watching movies.  I stop myself from spending my time with the kids trying to pack in cleaning and laundry and just be with them.  Sometimes we just don't eat dinner - we just eat whatever looks good right now, even if it's bacon, Oreos and garlic bread.

So, I can't say that I've found my way through to the end of the tunnel.  I still don't know where in the hell I'm headed but I think I might be starting to be okay with that. 

Letting go is just a baby step towards being free I suppose.

Watch Out for the Pits

Maybe it's the season or maybe it's just lots of change again.  I feel like I've lost the light at the end of the tunnel.

Gus woke me up at 3:00 am because he wet the bed again. It was my fault because I gave in to his screaming and let him have lemonade before he went to bed. As usual, I couldn't go back to sleep.  I felt amazingly homesick, even though I was staring at my own ceiling, in my own bed, with my own dog draped across my legs.  Sometimes the only way I can describe how I'm feeling is through imagery and usually that imagery is in my mind. It's not convenient.  So I went online and I found this and it's kind of how I was feeling about everything in the wee hours of the morning:

I can't see where this is all headed. I kind of feel like I'm wandering along that road up there and not knowing if I veered to the left if it'd be sunny eventually.  Or maybe if I kept going straight nothing would change.  My Usual Self keeps the option open of just running in a zigzag all over the field with all of my fingers crossed, but I'm not feeling like my Usual Self today apparently. I must be maturing finally.

I remember feeling almost precisely like this just after I moved into my townhouse and while I was pregnant.  Feeling trapped but completely unable to do anything about it because it is just life. Life for now anyway.

This feeling blindfolded business is for the birds.  I wish, wish, wish I knew a real fortune teller/psychic person.  Like a real one, not a crazy dog park looking woman in a tent at the Rennaissance Festival.  Even if she said I was going to have yet another year from hell, at least I'd know how deep the waters are.

Psh.  Maybe I should just go get some sleep.  Maybe that's all this is.  That and Kid Fatigue. Maybe.

Football Confession

I was driving into work this morning listening to a popular radio show.  In it, they took callers from women who had to answer questions about football in order to win concert tickets.  I totally didn't call in even though I'd KILL for these tickets.

Why?  Well I'll tell you.

I'm a Football Faker.  I watch football week in and week out and I have a very shallow understanding of what the hell is actually taking place.  I wonder if it's much a like a dog watching kids play.  Lots of action and yelling and then everyone cheers and so I jump around and scream too.

Okay, I do kind of know what is happening because I've actually been trying to understand what's going on by a combination of stealth listening, osmosis and sheer concentration on the game. For a really long time.  That said, when a guy leaves the room and comes back and asks the dreaded question, "What'd I miss?"  I say things like:

"Farve threw the ball but Peterson fumbled and then we got a flag for unnecessary roughness but it was offset  by the 49ers being offsides," or, "We caught it but missed our 1st down so I think we're going for a field goal.  Hope Longfellow has been stretching."  I say it all real fast.  Sounds good, huh?  Complete gibberish.  Sometimes, flags will be thrown and the guys all say "I'll bet it's holding, number 44."  I say, "Oh yeah, how could it NOT be?!"

Anyway, if I had called in to the radio today I probably would've won the tickets.  The first question was so easy - how many minutes in a quarter.  Duh, 15.  I have sat at many a game watching that goddamn clock tick.  Now, I enjoy going, but I remember those days of not understanding anything but the cheerleaders and the clock running down.

The next question was tougher - what's pass interference?  I would've answered it just as the woman on the phone did - "When the defense gets in the middle of the pass and makes the receiver not catch the ball by waving his arms or something."  She sounds as smart as me.  They gave a couple of clues to her since this isn't quite accurate and finally gave her the real answer (and the tickets): When a player comes into physical contact with the receiver as he's catching the ball, causing him to miss.  Something like that. There. We (well, I) have learned something today.

So that's my confession for the day.  I'm faking it.