Mom on the move

Obstinate is as obstinate does

2008-09-18T07:18:00.000-07:00

Why do kids pick certain times to decide to be uncooperative? My 5-year-old chose his visit to the eye doctor to shut down. Now this kid is GREAT at hide and seek because of his ability to stay absolutely still for long lengths of time. At times, he's really scared the bejeezus out of me, he'll find a nook or cranny behind a chair, couch or curtain, shimmy his skinny little bod in there and -- freeze. He can stay like that for a long time.
That's a bad thing to do in the eye doctor's office. The technician sat him down, in the seat, covered one of his eyes, then asked him what picture was shown on the screen in front of him.
He didn't move, didn't blink and most of all, didn't answer.
She asked again, and again, and he remained frozen. So I asked him to speak. Nothing. Then I pulled out my cell phone and said, "Guess I have to call Daddy now and tell him you're not being a good boy."
At least that prompted some words. "I'm not talking now." To which I responded, "Well, you better, or I'm making that phone call." That prompted some reluctant responses to the questions he was asked.
The eye doctor checking him out later has obviously dealt with this problem before and knew exactly how to handle it. My son clearly didn't like the dilation drops, and made no bones about it. He hid behind a sign in the waiting room for five minutes afterward. So when the doctor was doing his examination and my son stopped cooperating, the doc said, "Oh, if you don't help me out and answer my questions, the drops are going to wear off and we'll have to put more in."
The responses to questions couldn't come fast enough out of my son. He didn't have the most pleasant tone to his voice, but he didn't squelch his participation anymore.
Hey, when bribery's not an option, threats are a wonderful thing.

grrrrrrrross!

2008-09-17T07:51:00.000-07:00

Legend has it that when my three older siblings were young and our family was living in North Jersey, my folks had a neighbor on the block who regularly walked his dog to our house where the dog did his "business." Not by the curb, not in the street, but on our front lawn. Every time.
My dad, a mild-mannered guy, repeatedly asked the guy to please stop allowing his dog to poop on our lawn, as he had three small children (all under 5 years old, I was probably on the way at this point) who played in the front yard.
Knowing my dad, that repeated plea probably started very nicely and patiently. But apparently, as it was consistently ignored, and the "business" was left where my brother and sisters played, my dad grew increasingly frustrated. And the report I got was that one day, after the man and dog walked away leaving a pile of "business" behind on our lawn, my dad scooped it up and threw it in the direction of the guy. I don't know if it hit him. I think it did, because it apparently wound up with some court action.
I think I know where my dad's coming from, because every time I park my car to pick up my kids from school, I have to navigate them past the "piles" across the grassy area between the parking lot and the sidewalk. It's my new, pardon the expression, pet peeve.
Now I walk four miles every morning, and I see all the dog walkers carrying baggies, tissues and whatever else. They clean up. One of them once rolled her eyes one morning when she stopped to pick up something she spotted ahead of her and said, "I'm even cleaning up after OTHER people's dogs!"
I think most dog owners are considerate about this. But some aren't. Maybe they see that grassy area between the parking lot and the sidewalk as a "non-pedestrian" area. Tell that to a 7-year-old walking toward mom, that they should run around to the parking lot entrance 40 yards away instead of running across a 15-foot strip of grass to the waiting car.
Blech.
Yesterday, I found myself calling out to other kids after mine made it safely through the poop maze, warning about the latest land mine to avoid. That's just nasty. So please, if you know of someone whose pet leaves piles on those grassy strips, figuring that people will always keep both feet on the sidewalk, tell them to think like a 7-year-old -- and that cutting across the grass is going to happen.
Today, not picking up after your dog is a "fine-able" offense. It's against state law. The fines can be $50 to about $250. So scoop, or be prepared to pay a fine. Better that than getting his by a flying "pile" you decided to leave behind. Blech.

Anthem and then some

2008-09-16T08:36:00.000-07:00

If you read my last blog on the "jersey girl baptism," check it out again, I added some pictures that arrived via email. Cute!

Today's gripe: the many interpretations of the National Anthem. I'm all for tradition -- I like the old-fashioned version, where the only single-syllables that get double-notes are the first word (as in "Oh-oh say can you see ..."), "that" "banner" "yet" and "wave" (as in "Oh say does tha-at Star Spangled Ban-ne-er Ye-et Wa-ave."
Reason for gripe: Are you ready for some football! Yes, Love, love, love football. So I joined friends at a club to watch the Monday Night Football game between the Eagles and the Cowboys. Didn't care who won -- I'm a Giants fan. That Tony Romo's awfully cute, but Philly's geographically closer. So I cheered good plays on both sides. It's just such a great game to watch.
Back on topic: So some girl sang the National Anthem. I just googled and found out it was Kat DeLuna, a 20-year-old pop star apparently. She went waaaaaay beyond the traditional singing of it. Was she auditioning for American Idol or something? I just don't get it. Now a lot of singers feel the need to prove their vocal range can stretch beyond hitting "o'er the land, of the FREE!!!!!!!!!" and add a lot more singing than usual. It ends up sounding like, "Aaaaaa-and the Ho-OH-oh-Oh-OH!-me O-o-o-f thuh-uh-uh-uh- Bra-ay-AY-Ay-aY-AY-AYVE!"
Well, young Kat did that, but the range of motion wasn't limited to her voice ... she was flipping her head and shoulders and jabbing with a pointed finger. What the heck was that all about?
"Look, look, she just did that flip again!" called out Colleen L. after the singer did a head, shoulder and arm move that belonged somewhere else, far away.
"Who is she pointing at?" I asked, as she jabbed her finger repeatedly either away from her or pointed up in the air.
We weren't alone -- the crowd booed too. They cheered briefly when some fireworks went off, but if you looked at the crowd, they weren't pleased.
I just showed the clip on youtube -- I'll link it below -- to a coworker who said, "Francis Scott Key is spinning in his grave right now." "Spinning? He's climbing out of it and coming to hunt her down," I answered.
The loud booing at the end should give some pause to singers who consider attempting to recreate Whitney Houston's dynamite version from Superbowl 25.
Bad Anthem

The newest member of the Jersey Girl Sisterhood

2008-09-15T06:38:00.000-07:00

How do you welcome a new Jersey Girl to the Shore? With a Jersey Girl oceanfront "baptism," that's how. When I finally got to my vacation time at the end of the summer, the children and I went down to the beach and joined Carole G. and crew -- alternately known as the Sisterhood of the Traveling Flip-flops or, when it's coffee time, the WaWa Sisterhood.
We arrived at the beach that August day, and as I spread out the kids' blanket, I was asked to sign a Guest Book for the baptism of Wayne and Barrie Azzarello's second daughter, Meridith Ann, who was born on July 25 (and granddaughter of Peg and Barry Osborne of Brick). Older sister Julianna Margaret, born June 21 of 2007, was "baptized" by the Sisterhood on Sept. 7 of last year on the Sylvania Avenue beach in Avon.
Meridith's ceremony was held on the Washington Avenue beach, with lifeguard captain Pattie "officiating." Sadly, I missed the ceremony -- I ran back to get my beach chair, not knowing the ceremony was taking place so quickly. Everyone raved about it, though, and my daughters shared in it. They all gathered down by the water's edge, and Pattie spoke to the newest Jersey Girl on the beach, welcoming her to "Mother Ocean" and the like. To complete her official entry into Jersey Girlhood, they dipped her toes in the Atlantic.
What a great idea. Everyone around was touched. After I came back, somebody was telling them, "You should call the newspaper!" and Carole looked at me and offered a one-word thought: "Blog?" I answered, "Blog!"
They're characters in the "Sisterhood." Leave it up to them to come up with a wonderful way to initiate a little Jersey Girl into a big part of what makes this area a great place to live.

Looking on the bright, or pale, side

2008-09-10T09:29:00.000-07:00

OK, summer's slowing slipping from our grasp, the kids are back in school and the lengthy schedule of concerts, flea markets, county fairs, outdoor events, boardwalk trips, amusement and water park days on our calendars have dwindled down to maybe a handful on the upcoming weekends. It's darker in the morning when I wake up. It's darker in the evenings when we're wrapping up dinner.
The one light at the end of the tunnel for me is, soon people will start looking like me again. In that, I mean pale.
Not a sun worshipper in my adult years, the little bit of tan I still sought over the summers was shut down about five years with a diagnosis of melanoma. Picture the soup guy from Seinfield: "No Sun for you!" So the SPF 300,000 I buy for the kids goes on me too. The result is, come the end of August, while others are sporting all sorts of "healthy" looking hues of tans and browns, I'm whiter than ever. The bit I do get out in the sun only causes my myriad freckles to pop. That can make the unfreckled part of me look even paler. And it's all exacerbated by my penchant for watching TV or reading a book until close to midnight (right now I'm catching up on the early seasons of "Lost" and can easily get lured into watching "just one more" episode if it's not midnight yet), my internal clock that unnecessarily goes off about 5:15 which is roughly 15 minutes before my teenager's alam goes off, my alarm clock alarm that goes off at 6:02 and rouses me from my brief return to slumber, compounded by my insistence that I hit the road by 6:30 for an hour, quick-paced walk before my husband goes to work and I get caught up in the insanity of trying to get three kids and myself washed, dressed, fed, backpacked, lunch-readied and on our way to school and work. I really need to get to sleep earlier. I say that to myself a lot. My dad's longtime insistence on taking daily naps makes sense to me now.
But we're all harried to a point. Burying it under a tan helps a little though. Just not me. (To give an example, I was at a toga party once. Granted, it was mid-winter, but when one of the other attendees asked why I wore white stockings with my toga, she was floored when I said I wasn't. Them's my bare legs!)
While our teenager has my husband's half-Panamanian complexion, doesn't burn and gets tan by stepping out the door, my girls and my younger son are either a combination or, especially in the little guy's case, closer to mine.
When my girls hit the teen years, I'm going to be a nag about protecting their skin. When I had my melanoma surgery in 2004, the doctor told me there are several good products for reducing the size of the scar. But that's my battle wound -- one I'll likely use often to remind the kids more than they'll want to hear that my lack of proper sunscreen, my too-numerous-to-remember sunburns and the few really deep tans I built up in a few years of lifeguarding over a full summer without enough skin protection were more dangerous than the Solarcaine-treated pain of back-in-the-day. And it'll be my word of warning that today's tan or burn is tomorrow's scar or worse.
Their skin isn't as white as mine, they've managed to avoid sunburns with my over-arming of SPF in the house, with spare bottles in the cars. And I mean to keep it that way.

Another delayed start

2008-09-09T07:33:00.000-07:00

I had a dilemma this morning: Should I take my soon to school, keep him home or run him (and his chicken-poxed behind) by the school nurse for her opinion? I went with the "Keep him home another day" option. I don't want to risk passing his mini breakout to any other kid who might not have had the booster yet.
He's had the breakout since Friday, and while most of the blisters have dried up and shriveled down to nothing and the itching's stopped, there are still a half dozen that haven't yet completely dried up. Another day of calamine lotion and Benadryl should do the trick. In the meantime, as I said yesterday, he doesn't know what he's missing.
That's what made me shoot down the "ask the school nurse for her opinion" option right away. If he saw his little friends gathered outside the school, knowing what he was missing out on -- and having to spend another day with grandma instead of being able to play with other kids his age -- would probably send him into a tizzy. I figured since I was on the fence, better to hop over onto the side of caution and spare both him and his grandma the torture of what could have been, had he been just a little further along.
I hardly remember having the pox myself, but I do remember them. His breakout, caused by having the vaccine, was mild, for the most part, mostly limited to his behind and upper legs.
"I saw him yesterday and he looked fine," my Dad said this morning. "Yeah, but you didn't see his butt," I answered. "That's where most of it is."
So as I gathered the girls toward the door this morning and my mother-in-law tried to distract him, he asked, "Where are they going?" "They have school," I answered. "You start tomorrow."
"Oh," he said, and his calamine-pink frosted body cruised back toward the TV room, unfazed, and unaware of what he's missing today, what should have been his second day of school.
So on the first two days of his foray into the world of knowledge, I'm withholding some. And he's probably better off that way. Enlightenment can begin tomorrow.

He's one of a kind, and I have proof

2008-09-08T06:18:00.000-07:00

Being paranoid about vaccines, I broke up my little guy's pre-kindergarten shots into three visits. The third one got delayed a few times, I figured I'd wait until camp was over. I put it off while I was on vacation, then finally called the doctor's office last Tuesday. No go, I was told. They were extremely busy Tuesday and Wednesday, I'd have to call back Thursday or Friday. I did on Friday, and they said bring him in at 11:30, a half hour before his kindergarten orientation was set. We made it just in time. Later that day, my husband called me and said my son was breaking out in a rash.
Seems the chicken pox shot gave him the chicken pox. I was reminded of an episode of M*A*S*H when Hotlips gave Hawkeye a flu shot. Later in the episode, she's nagging him in the operating room and he said, "Remember that flu shot you gave me? Well it worked, I have the flu."
A Saturday morning visit to the doctor confirmed the diagnosis. It's not a full-blown case but he does have a few dozen spots -- he's got a few spots on his back, some on his legs, a couple on his tummy and most of the breakout is on his hips. But "only time will tell" how long it will last before the bumps dry out. Regular cases last about a week, but she's seen some that have cleared up in about 48 hours -- I guess those must be in kids who've had one shot but not the booster.
Well, today, on what was supposed to be his first day of kindergarten, he's home dotted in Calamine to help speed the drying. They are drying up, and I'm hoping the remaining ones are dried out by tomorrow. But in the meantime, there goes that perfect attendance award!
I read about the vaccine on a few Internet sites, and one Q&A asked if it was possible to get the pox from the vaccine. The answer was that it happens to 1 percent of those who get the vaccine. ONE PERCENT! My son is truly one in a hundred. But that answer also said that those who do get is usually only get five or six bumps. I guess that makes my kid even more of a rarity.
It didn't seem to hit him yet, that he's missing his first days of school. I think he really just doesn't understand "what" he's missing yet. He was there for a half hour on Friday, and saw a lot of his friends there. But he didn't seem to notice his sisters leaving while he stayed home with his grandmother.
I read in Patti Martin's blog where her son wanted to forgo a Disney vacation because he was working on perfect attendance -- he was planning to be President someday and thought that would be good on his record.
Well, I guess that pressure's off my boy!

Can't Mr. Palin step in?

2008-09-05T06:46:00.000-07:00

During the week on talk shows, Alaska Gov. and VP candidate Sarah Palin was a hot topic. Aside from concerns about whether she's got the political experience necessary, one thing that bothered me was all the blather questioning her ability to handle the vice presidency when she has five children.
One comment I heard questioned how would she be able to be of any use when she's getting up at 3 a.m. for feedings. What that person forgot is -- by the time she would actually take office, that baby will likely be sleeping through the night. And if not, can't her husband do the waking-up?
It's easy to criticize another family's dynamics. We all do it at one point or another, when we don't agree with another family's rules, regulations, parenting style, whatever. In my household, as in many, I take care of most of the children's needs -- doctor visits, haircuts, school projects, shopping for food and clothing and any needed supplies, birthday presents for parties they're invited to. I keep the calendar up to date and I'm the one who knows who needs to be where, and when they need to be there and how they're going to get there and back. But if we were to decide that I should devote more time to career and my husband should stay home, wouldn't that be up to us to decide?
What bothered me about the Palin-family debate is, I've never heard anybody ever question the ability of a male candidate to fit family and public service into his calendar. Maybe Todd and Sarah Palin have decided that he will be Mr. Mom if the family moves to Washington D.C. What's wrong with that? Other vice presidents have had families. Presidents have had young children. Did anyone ever criticize them for not devoting enough time to their offspring?
There are plenty of families where the wife is the top-dollar earner. If they've determined their family will be best served by Dad doing the soccer-shuttle, afterschool duties and shopping responsibilities so Mom can use her free time with the children, isn't that their right?
Many moms I know, like me, put in 40 hours of work on top of doing all the above stuff and then some. There's PTOs, scouts, sports, play dates, braces, doctor/dental checkups, and myriad things we take care of in our off time, or on our lunch breaks. Do I think Sarah Palin's children are cause for concern? No.
I'm also not upset by the fact that her 17-year-old daughter is pregnant. No one wants their child to get pregnant at 17. Does it happen? Yes. Is it always the fault of their parents? No. It could happen to the most perfect parents in the world. I'm sure they've had enough heartache, and they've kicked themselves enough on this, just as I'm sure they've wondered if they could have said or done anything differently. Far be it for us to look down on them.
I'm open-minded about Palin, I am concerned about the potential abuse of office in the reports that she fired a top staffer for not having her ex-brother-in-law fired. I'd like to know more about that, and hear what the full story is.
I have no idea who I'm voting for in November. I generally avoided the coverage of the conventions. Prepared speeches read off teleprompters to an audience full of cheerleaders won't sway my vote. I'm looking forward to the debates -- I want to see how they candidates think on their feet. Over the next two months I'll look over the platforms of both parties carefully. And I'll engage in lengthy discussions with family and friends.
I'm sure not all those discussions will be political -- some will be gossipy. But that's not where I'll base my vote. Neither is the number of children the candidates have.

Whoever has the best toy, wins!

2008-09-04T07:07:00.000-07:00

So on the last day we were all on vacation, the kids convinced me to do something we haven't done all summer: Hit a fast-food joint. Why not? I remember the rare trips to Mickey D's or BK were great when I was a kid -- when my parents had the kitchen redone, I think we ate at fast food spots more than during the rest of our childhood.
As healthy as the offerings can be, though, the kids just want the usual: burgers, chicken strips and french fries. Try convincing them to take apples over french fries and you might as well be asking them if they'd prefer practicing long division over buying a new Webkinz.
So we decided we'd go out to Fast Food Place A or Fast Food Place B. Only problem was which one. The little guy began opting for A, because they had a certain toy that came with the kids' meals. No, argued middle sister, Fast Food Place B has those. Older sister chimed in, saying she thought middle sister was right. Noooooo, wailed the little man, I want Toy A from Fast Food Place A. We convinced him that Toy A was actually at Fast Food Place B, and he admitted maybe he was wrong, so we went to Fast Food Place B.
Turns out he was right. We got into Fast Food Place B, they ran in the door ahead of me while I grabbed the book I planned to read while they played in the play area after lunch, and I saw the dismay on my daughters' faces. The little guy was right. Toy A WAS at Fast Food Place A.
We hadn't made it toward the counter yet, so I began herding them back toward the door and told the little guy we changed our mind, we were going to Fast Food Place A. Nooooooooooooo!, he started to wail, until we quickly convinced him that he was initially right.
In Fast Food Place A, I told them they couldn't take out Toy A until they finished their lunches. The girls finished first, and decided they wanted a different VERSION of Toy A. They took theirs and their little brother's to the counter to exchange them. When they returned, little brother was a little disconcerted --- seems he liked the first version of Toy A and wanted to keep that. I had to intervene. So apologetic, at least I hoped I sounded as apologetic as I felt, and I asked if I could have Version A of Toy A back. They very graciously fished it out and I returned the unopened Version B.
They went into the play area and burned off all those french fry calories for a half hour, running around the jungle gym and playing with their versions of Toy A. I knocked out a few chapters in my book.
The little man never let Toy A get out of his hands -- snuggled with it at bedtime, and at 5:30 the next morning, he came in on the verge of tears, he woke up to find it missing. I tried to say we'd look for it after daylight, but it was clear that would cause more heartache, and end the chance for another half hour's sleep, so we turned on his light and located it between the bed and the wall.
The next day, my parents took the kids while I returned to work. My mom asked what would they like for lunch, and after naming what they like and dislike, I suggested she and dad could take them Fast Food Place A as a last resort.
"Bring a book," I suggested. "And don't let them harass the counter lady over the toy."

They grow, we change too

2008-09-03T06:46:00.001-07:00

Chalk these up to the "I-never-would-have-believed-I'd-ever-be-like-this" items:
A-- That I'd be out walking or jogging before I HAD to get up, some parts of the year before sunrise. But Marj and I were out almost every weekday morning this summer, one or the other would send a "Ready when u r" text followed by the "See u outside in 5" response, and off we'd go, usually about 4-plus miles, getting back in time for my husband to leave for work. Marj introduced me to yoga on the beach -- me outside doing yoga at 7:45 on a Saturday morning? Unheard of, a dozen or so years ago! But Marj went back to her job at school this week, and now has to start readying for work about our usual time to leave -- I was heading out as she was heading in Tuesday morning and we gave each other a sad wave. "Maybe we could start at 5:30 ..." she started to suggest one morning last week. But for me, it's not the time getting up, it's the time getting to sleep the night before. I just wouldn't make it. But we've got school holidays and vacations ahead.
B-- A weekend barbecue ended with 1-- everyone gone by 11 p.m. and 2-- me sending the leftover beer (something else that was unheard of a decade and a half ago) home with the party guests. But with about a dozen and a half beers left in the cooler -- and with three boys, ages 17 and 18, heading in for an overnight -- I figured it best to remove those from the deck. And several days later, they're still in that cooler -- Erika has kept them iced and we're saving them for the Giants opener.

When I was a teen, I learned the joy of sleeping all morning. I have one who does that now. I kept that habit through college -- rare was a class taken before 10 a.m., and with a 10 to 6 work day for most of my single years, being up before the sun was not even a thought. And back in those single days, we didn't have much leftover beer after a party and we certainly didn't get rid of it -- more often we'd send out for more sometime during the night.
We watch our kids grow and change, but it's also pretty cool to see how much we grow and change too.

No Labor Day

2008-09-01T18:30:00.001-07:00

We had no concrete Labor Day plans. That's probably why this Labor Day was one of the best in years. Until I boiled water for spaghetti dinner, I did no labor at all. Planned to, but the lure of the sun, bay and sand kept us out.
That's a good thing -- I'm the first to admit I probably overdo it, schedule wise. We're always on the go -- we're involved in a lot of activities and we have things to do every weeikend, which made a day of doing next to nothing that much more precious.
I slept late -- till 9! -- then I asked the kids if they wanted to go down to the bay and watch the sailboat races set for 9:30. The two girls and my little guy hopped into the car with me, we stopped and picked up donuts and coffee (the donuts were gone before we arrived at the races) and we settled in on the beach for the morning. I bought the book "Kite Runner," which I just started reading a few days earlier and have had no time to pick it back up, settled into the shade and watched the races all morning.
They're always fun to watch. A good catch of the wind can propel someone from second place to first at the last minute, you never can predict. The novice race winners were Nick R., Jeremy S. and Kayla B. The advanced race -- always a battle between Cal T. and his former top sailing pupil-turned-co-instructor Dean P. -- resulted in Dean besting Cal for a second year in a row. Those two will have trouble in the next few years from third-place finisher Tyler F., his twin brother Gage and fourth-place Jake N. and Tyler's twin brother Gage in fifth -- all three new to the advanced sailors category, which attracted more entries than ever. Not sure how the twins' dad Butch did, but champion Dean's dad Marty called himself a "U-Boat Commander" after, well, apparently thinking this was a pseudo submarine race.
Original plans were to go home and get to the clearning we didn't do over the weekend, but we decided to stay for the brunch/lunch -- I ran home at noon to pick up a pasta salad I made and my husband decided to join us. We figured we'd stay through brunch. We did. Then through the whole afternoon, not leaving until around 6:30 p.m., and then only reluctantly.
What a glorious day. The weather cooperated, the kids' demeanors cooperated (except for some agony during an emergency splinterecotomy performed on my son's foot by the Should-Be-A-Dr. Nick G.), the tides cooperated. The morning was filled with swimming and boogie-boarding, then the tide moved away and opened up a bevy of open ground for clam hunting -- my younger daughter found 20 of the 33 my kids scooped up with their buddy Jillian, then decided to return them to their natural habitat when I made it clear we weren't bringing them home.
At one of the many times I glanced up from my book to peek at the kids, I got a great look at my 10-year-old nephew J-Rod in the ankle-deep water with his arm around my 5-year-old, pointing out fish or crabs or something in the calm, shallow water. "Doesn't get any better than this," I thought.
I was able to knock out about 170 pages of my book from morning till night. We finally told the kids we were heading out, and my older daughter said, "Can't we stay a little longer?" "We've been here for 9 hours already!" I told her. The sad look said it all. End of day. End of summer.
We're going to have to hit the beach again next weekend for another non-Labor Day. We "do" a lot, and sometimes that's got to include doing nothing at all.

Summer's not over yet!

2008-08-26T12:00:00.000-07:00

I'm on vacation!!! Until middle of next week. I'm doing back to school stuff, days with the kids stuff, family reunion stuff, paying bills stuff, remembering all the things I forgot all summer stuff, cleaning my house stuff. At the moment, I'm attempting to do the hiding-at-my-computer-so-I-can-get-some-online-bill-paying-without-kid-interruption stuff done.
My daughters came in arguing. So I started imitating them. It didn't help improve their momentary lapse of sisterly love. But at least they got the hint and left me to my bill-paying so I could finish.
Most of this vacation will be spent with, for and about them. But after the school shopping, and not having been online for several days, I needed to get an idea of where our finances were at. Not a pretty sight.
I guess this is a staycation. It's nice to be able to get things semi organized, although I'm not kidding myself: It won't last.
First few days of my vacation, people said to me, "Can you believe the summer's over?"
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! It's NOT!!!! I'm on VACATION THIS WEEK!!!!!
Luckily, we've had some great weather, some fun plans -- trip to the city, day at Monmouth Park, trip to the Sprayground/Playground, beach trips and the like, with a little bit of housework in the middle.
I hear stamping downstairs. Seems the sisterly feud now involves little brother.
Sigh. Time to log off. Be back to work on Sept. 4 -- when summer will REALLY be over.

The toy du jour

2008-08-22T07:09:00.000-07:00

I promised my 5-year-old I'd pick him up a toy today during my lunch break. He's called me three times in the hour after I left the house. Actually, I was just walking out the door and he yelled again, the fourth or fifth reminder of the morning that I promised him the new toy.
I'm sure I'll spell this wrong, but he wants a "Bakkugon" or something like that. It's this tiny little thing that rolls up into a ball but becomes some kind of creature. They get lost left and right because they're so little. We've probably got a few that are mating with the dust bunnies under the couch.
Could be Backugone, Bakkiugon, Backoogon or even Bacquieuxgon, for all I know. I'll find out at lunchtime, though.
"Can you go to work for just three minutes?" he asked me. Would that I could. On my 10-minute commute to work, he had his sister call me on my cell phone. "Did you get my Bakkugon yet?" "No honey, I just left." "Are you going to Wal-Mart?" "No, I'm going to work." "Can you just work for five minutes, I mean four minutes, or three minutes?" "No, I have to work all day."
I got into the office and started working. Ten minutes later, the phone rang. "Do you have my Bakkugon in your hand?" "No, I'm going over on my lunch hour." "Can you go to lunch in three minutes?" "No, about three hours."
He called me again, and got this one in: "I will be so proud to play with this Bakkugon." Oooookay. "I'll see you later, I love you," "I wuv you too."
I was planning on running to the store across the street on my lunch break, getting the Bakkugon and bringing it home after work. But I think I might stretch my lunch hour by those 20 minutes to and from my house. That "I wuv you" got me. Are three minutes up yet?

We're almost there ...

2008-08-21T07:15:00.000-07:00

I feel bad for the kids this week. This beautiful weather and they're stuck at home. Our town's camp went a week beyond their day camp, so their friends aren't around. They're rotating among the grandparents, but at least with the three of them, they stay busy together. Last night I took them out T-shirt painting at the club, they paint on fish, then press T=shirts against the fish and get some beautiful shirts out of the process. Tonight, my youngest is going to need something special. My older daughter has a play date for part of the day. My younger daughter has a play date for part of the day. He has the computer, the TV, the Gameboy and Grandma. Tomorrow he'll have his sisters back and they've got some decent plans for the day, but today, he's going to be itchin when his Dad and I get home.
I snuggled with him for a couple of minutes this morning, telling him I just have a little bit more time to work, then I'll be off. And we're just having fun -- with some back to school shopping sandwiched in there -- next week. He curled up, eyes closed, pretending he was asleep as I tickled him, saying, "aaaaand we'll go to the beach, aaaaand we'll go to Six Flags, aaaasnd we'll go boogie-boarding, aaaand we'll go to the petting zoo, aaaaaand we'll do all sorts of fun stuff." With each new plan, his smile grew bigger, although his eyes stayed closed. "So you have to be a good boy for your grandparents for the next two days, then you'll have either me or Daddy or both of us after that." "But I don't want to stay home today," he said.
Broke my heart.
We're going to do a lot of beach stuff next week -- I'll be wearing my Panama Jack hat and slathering on the sunscreen, so I'm sure I'll be just as white as I am right now. But I'll bet the stress lines will smooth out a little by my eyes, the hectic pace I usually keep will be so much more relaxed, and the light in my kids' eyes will be worth every lazy bit of it.

Pre-vacation preparation

2008-08-20T07:16:00.001-07:00

I'm off next week. I can't wait. Already promised the kids trips to the beach, to Six Flags, to New York ... I came THIS CLOSE to picking up a cheap flight to Florida, but said to myself: Calm down.
This past weekend, I did nothing but clean the house and do the kinds of chores that you put off and put off and put off. We're managing to keep the house in reasonable shape during the week. But I'd like to START my vacation with a reasonably clean house, rather than END it that way by spending the whole time getting it clean. That was my last "vacation." Felt great when it was all done, but this time, it's going to be mostly kids-and-mom time.
Knowing this was going to be "hell week," with a couple of co-workers on vacation leaving the rest of us to pick up the slack, I said my best bet at getting through with any level of sanity intact was to get my house cleaned before this week of work. I had been away the two weekends prior, and incredibly busy every weekend before that. The housework suffered. Terribly. I was to the point that I almost couldn't stand to be in the house because it was so cluttered.
Talking with a few friends after the weekend, we all agree: It's great when you can go on vacation and leave your house really clean, so you can come home to some sense of order. When I complain of the disarray in my house, I'm told, "But you have four kids, and you work!" That's why I appreciate, so much, when it's all straightened up, and being able to come home from work to only light chores.
I'm not going away, but we've got all sorts of plans for fun stuff to do while I"m off. So starting that time with a clean house is my goal. It's Day Three of my last day at work before school starts. And the house is still pretty reasonable -- although I woke up our teenager before I left with the ultimatum to clean his room or else. I'll let him wonder about that ... loss of cell phone is always the best threat. The other kids heard "Clean your room or I'll cancel the play dates I have for you this week and we'll spend MY week off cleaning your room and nothing else." That worked. I'm going to give a mid-week re-cleaning tonight, to help set us up for the busy weekend.
So if I get through Friday and it's still reasonably clean, I'll have accomplished much. And I can enter into a busy weekend knowing I won't hate my house when I return home from our adventures. It will really do wonders for my enjoying my time with the kids, knowing I've got some sense of order -- and relaxation -- when we're home.

The Farkel Family

2008-08-18T06:30:00.000-07:00

We have access to a pedal boat, so yesterday I suggested we take advantage of it. What we ended up doing was providing endless amusement for those on the shore. Started out with my husband and I pedaling, the girls in the back seats and the little guy between us. He didn't want to be there and made that clear to all around, complaining that he'd rather be playing his Gameboy on the shore.
But we persisted -- life vests on the kids, then we pedaled away from the dock and ... in circles. We circled and circled and circled. Sometimes we'd pedal forward, sometimes we pedaled backward, but we never got very far. Our older daughter wanted to pedal, so she switched with her dad, then the younger girl wanted in on the action so she and I switched.
We tried to put up the canopy, it fell down. We put it back up, it fell again. Three or four times we repeated the process. Then we realized there was a strap in the front that would hold it up. Ohhhhhh!
Climbing from front to back took some maneuvering, but we managed to switch a few times, all the while, going in our circles. We managed to get a few hundred yards from the dock. Sometimes we were going north, sometimes we were going east, but most of the time we just went around in circles.
Finally my husband figured out the trick to steering, that you have to keep moving the rudder back and forth. I had long ago given up and turned the job over to the 5-year-old ... he was better at it than I.
After about 45 minutes we headed back in -- those on the beach had big smiles on their faces, but it wasn't to share in the joy of watching a family spend a day on the water.
"That was very funny -- wish I had a camera," said Joanne. "The canopy's up, the canopy's down, the canopy's up, nope, it's back down again."
Mickey told us they were calling us the Farkel Family. Does that make me Joann Worley? "You're climbing from front to back and everybody's switching places, I won't tell you who, but somebody here nicknamed you the Farkel Family."
I suspect Mickey came up with the name on his own!
So we may not have been the most water sports oriented family yesterday, but we did have fun in those 45 minutes. Even the kid who wanted to play his Gameboy -- he had to admit it was a "little bit" fun.
And next time, if there is a next time, at least we have an idea of how to steer. I just hope nobody runs home and gets their video camera if they spot us heading out.

Major meltdowns -- how humiliating!

2008-08-15T08:30:00.000-07:00

My son had a major meltdown at camp yesterday. Actually, he was kind of ejected. They know him, and they know it was out of character, and turns out he wasn't feeling well. But he started acting up, then when he was told he had to sit in the office for a few minutes to think about his behavior, he let loose. Big time.
I had been called in shortly before, he was complaining about not feeling well, but when I arrived he insisted he felt fine. A half hour later, I got the call: Come get him.
I assumed he wasn't feeling well again, I had no idea it was behavioral until the head of the camp had to drag him, kicking and screaming, to my car. Whoa. In my five years with this kid, I've never seen him react that way. All the way home, he screamed, "Give me one more chance," or "I'm gonna be mad at you!" alternating between pleading and being mad. None of it worked.
I got him calm, got him home and set him up with my teenager and came back to finish work. I was exhausted, just from the drive and the mental anguish.
"Happens to all of us at one time or another," said my friend Debbie. She recalled being very pregnant with her daughter and was at the supermarket with her son when he went into a complete meltdown -- climbing underneath the cart carriage and clinging to the bottom of it so she couldn't get him out. Nothing worse than public tantrums.
She said she was at a store recently when something similar happened to a young mom. Debbie and a few other moms reassured her -- don't be embarrassed. It happens to everyone at one time or another.
It just feels horrible when it's you and your child. We've all seen meltdowns. Heck, we've all had 'em. And we've all felt someone else's pain when we've witnessed their child go into an overtired whining, crying or screaming session.
It may not take a village to raise a child, but it takes an understanding village to give that mom a break with some reassurance that it's OK, and it'll get better.
Today, my son was a new man. He promised to go to the camp director and say he was sorry, and that he wants to be a good boy. And he will be. Thank heavens.

Olympic-entranced

2008-08-14T07:07:00.000-07:00

So I took a "sanity day" yesterday --- it was the end-of-camp-show day at my children's camp, so since I knew I'd be out for 90 minutes or so, and since I just really needed a day with fewer obligations, work was the first thing that I decided to give up. Plans were: clean house, go to camp show.
Clean house was the second thing I decided to give up. Started out the morning -- after getting the kids to camp -- by turning on NBC and getting caught up in volleyball games, both indoor and beach. Then I was hooked on the swimming, and then I started watching water polo.
Water polo? Man, I didn't think they really played that in the Olympics. Looks like fun ... why didn't I join up in sports like that? And can I try out for the Marco Polo team? I was a swimmer growing up, no Rebecca Soni, but I was on swim teams every summer (Avon) and winter (Shore Area YMCA in Asbury) throughout grammar school.
The Olympics reminded me of why I was a fool to quit racing before high school -- the boys' swim team. Man, those guys have the best bodies.
I hope my kids and my husband don't see this post.
But, oh, to be 20 years younger. Forget Michael Phelps, have you spotted Ryan Lochte? How adorable! They did a brief piece on him, he's a crackup. Said he likes to ride his skateboard "because it's something I could possibly get hurt on." He definitely dances to a different drummer -- after the bio, the TV commentator said, "Did anyone else get the image of Spicoli from 'Fast Times at Ridgemont High' just now?"
So I'm back at work today, and so wanting to go home and see how the swimming races match out. When I left this morning, Russia had just beaten Brazil in men's indoor volleyball.
I'm hooked. Why am I watching Russian and Brazilian men play volleyball? I think I just answered my own question.
But beyond the "wish-I-was-young-and-single-so-I-could-dream-about-these-guys-I'll-never-meet" syndrome, I really do enjoy the Olympics, and the last few go-rounds I didn't get much time to watch them. This summer, I've really tried to at least stay on top of what's going on, and I'm even catching up on things I didn't realize were sports. How 'bout that synchronized diving?
Since we've been on the go so much lately, I haven't had a chance to see what my kids think about the Olympics. And since they're at camp all day, then watching things like Hannah Montana if the TV is on at all, I don't think they have even noticed it's on.
So when Phelps goes for his gold medals, I'm going to get them to watch with me. My younger daughter last night asked if I'd have a movie night with her. I couldn't because I had to head out to Jackson to pick up a gaggle of teenagers from Six Flags at 10 p.m. So I promised that tonight would be movie night. But I think I'm going to renege, and make it mother-and-daughter Olympics night.
Then I'm going to sign them up for water polo lessons.

So which section of this little world is mine?

2008-08-12T06:42:00.000-07:00

You've got to hand it to some people -- they've got chutzpah. Beyond belief. Some friends and I got a good look at "chutzpah" (because the word I'd rather use would knock my blog out of its "G" rating!) last night at the BlueClaws game. We'll call her "Hat Lady" because of the distinctive hat she wore, long after sunset. Maybe it was a bad hair day. And maybe that added to her attitude.
A bunch of us met at the stadium, getting general admission seating and heading toward the lawn. Our kids spotted the inflatable rides and playground by that section and that was it for some of them. I don't think they even realized we were at a baseball game for the most part.
But when we first got there, we insisted they eat before anything. So we set out to choose where we'd plant our fannies for the night. Spotting a nice wide swath of grass, we headed over. Cheryl made the first move to set up a blanket and Erika and Karen moved next to where she was about to set up and spread out another blanket. Then we noticed that Cheryl moved around to the other side of the second blanket, pretty much dragging her jaw along on the grass with the blanket she was relocating. She had the first glance at Hat Lady's chutzpah and was a little taken aback, not knowing hot to respond. Seems Hat Lady stopped Cheryl from spreading out her blanket, even though there was nothing on the grass where Cheryl was. "You can't stay here, this is MY area," said Hat Lady. "See those things? Those are mine. This whole section is mine," Hat Lady continued, pointing to a wide area of grass with a couple of things in the center.
We assumed Hat Lady was getting a big group together and she was holding their spot on the lawn. So we spread out blankets a little further down, then we noticed there was nobody else at the picnic table where Hat Lady was -- behind "her" section.
We really figured Hat Lady's spot at the table was temporary, since she was by herself at the table and carefully guarding the land ahead of her. Hat Lady remained sitting, but we figured we were in good shape at the table, with our kids spreading out on the blankets with their hot dogs and sodas.
But Hat Lady's family/friends/serfs never populated that grassy knoll that she had claimed as her own personal domain. Nobody sat there, and no one ever went near the spot where Cheryl tried to spread out her blanket.
AND, when the game started, Hat Lady, Hat Husband and Big-Boy-But-Hatless-Friend all stood --- right in front of us. We couldn't see through them. Or their hats.
I started finding this whole situation very amusing. So did the couple at the next picnic table, who pointed out that they had plenty of room and we were more than welcome to join them at their table. "Please, let's go sit with the normal people?" I pleaded. But no -- Karen and Erika said, "We're going to stay here, even if it's just to get on her nerves." Augh. The old, "It's the principle of the thing" battle was under way.
So we had Erika ("I want to smack that hat off her head"), Cheryl ("That woman really gets on my nerves"), Karen ("Excuse me! Could you move over? Ex-CUSE ME! EXXXXCUUUUUUSE MEEEEEEE!!!!! HEY, YOU!!!!! My God, what's WRONG with these people!") and me ("come on, the normal people WANT us to join them!") alternating between amusement and annoyance. And Hat Lady, Hat Husband and BBBHF either oblivious or ignoring us as they blocked our view of the game. And -- common courtesy -- on either side of where they were standing, there was about 10 feet of open space where they would not be blocking anyone's view, sitting or standing.
Karen finally got through with her rising-decibel screams of "EXCUSE ME!" Hat Lady, Hat Husband and BBBHF turned around and Karen said, "Could you move five feet in either direction?" "Why?" asked Hat Lady.
Ummm, we can't see, maybe? Well, Hat Husband toddled off, so did BBBHF, but Hat Lady glared at us, turned her back and crossed her arms, remaining standing in a spot that perfectly blocked home plate from our view.
The looks on our faces must have been priceless. I couldn't take it anymore and started cracking up. After making sure there were no young ears nearby, I said, loudly enough for Hat Lady to hear, "What an &$%#@*$!!!" (Seven-letter word that would also threaten my blog rating.) I think it worked. She sat down. And remained there. BBBHF sat with her, and Hat Husband returned later, and stood, but by that point we were focused on the antics of the kids. A little while later, the amused couple next to us fled the scene, and we finally moved to our own table, just in time to see the Blueclaws, who were down by one, give up four runs and any chance of a win.
Funny thing is, had Hat Lady not stopped Cheryl from putting her blanket down -- in a section of grass that neither she nor anybody in her entourage ever used -- we would have sat down on blankets with the kids and probably would have remained on the grass the whole night. There would have been no conflict. We would not have noticed the family that alternated between standing and sitting at the picnic table with their hats.
But then I wouldn't have a blog today. So it all works out in the end.

Mirror mirror on the wall, who's that?

2008-08-11T06:25:00.000-07:00

This was a weekend? More like a whirlwind. Friday night I stayed up watching the Olympic opening ceremonies. Actually I was just doing Sudoku puzzles in bed with it on, but I became fascinated with the end of the torch run. If you missed it, it's really something to see if you can find it on youtube or something like that. The last guy had a harness on and was suddenly lifted into the air, then "ran" in the air -- it looked like he was running around the inside of the top wall of the amphitheater, his shadow accentuated the effect, as graphics appeared like a carpet unrolling in front of him, showing scenes from the relay.
Up early Saturday, went jogging then packed up my girls and headed down to the Rainbow Girls convention in Cherry Hill. It's nonstop down there, from the afternoon games and swimming to the dinner, to the ceremonies followed by a pizza party then a dance. The Wawa coffee run by Eileen around 10 p.m. was sooooo necessary. Around 11:30, Eileen's daughter wasn't feeling well and I volunteered to head back to the rooms and keep her company. She got a second wind upstairs, so we stayed up. My younger daughter pooped out a little while later and came up, but they were both awake until about 1. I finally fell asleep around 1:30 or so, then when my older daughter came in after 2 I woke back up and couldn't get back to sleep, so I hit the timer on the TV and watched a movie for about an hour.
Sunday we had breakfast, church services then lunch at the Cracker Barrel on the way home. Got home and grocery shopped, looking up at the floodgates opened in the sky and saying to myself, "Why did I insist on getting lawn seats for the Styx/Boston concert tonight?" I imagined the group we were meeting was less than enthusiastic, but I was so wrong. We met up there, Erika wisely packing a tent that we set up in the parking lot and we tailgated from 5:30 to 7. I unwisely skipped the sandwich, instead making a dinner of appetizers (apparently I was saving all my weight watchers points for pinot grigio and beer!). The bands -- dissed by Erika's husband Ted as not being much more than cover bands since they don't have all the original members -- sounded great to me. Rounding out our group of eight along with me and my husband were Erika, Marj, Janet and Rich and Deb and Joel. And our buddy Andrew, who sat behind us, the 20-something we adopted during the show. The rain held off for most of it, but then started coming down pretty steadily during the latter part of Boston's show, and seven of the eight opted to hit the trails early -- Janet waited in their car for the rain-slickered Rich. So we got home earlier than we should have, but it wasn't a help. The usual 6:30 walk with Marj was already a non-happener because of the pinot, and the 7:15 alarm ended up in a snooze-button bang.
Who was that old lady in my bathrooom mirror this morning? Certainly not the I-don't-need-sleep machine from the weekend!

Braiding boom

2008-08-07T07:51:00.001-07:00

My daughters are both very much into "braiding" this year. Not the traditional hair-braids, but with string. I took them to Michael's Crafts and let them pick out embroidery string to craft the necklaces and bracelets they so much enjoy making. They really do create some intricate patterns -- they'll tape down a couple of strands then start weaving them, something they've been learning at camp. Good thing, I'm not good at anything like that. Tried to learn how to crochet once. Could never figure out how to "turn" it, no matter how many times others tried to show me, so all I could ever do was crochet one long strand of whatever. You can't exactly wear a scarf that you have to wrap around your neck 300 times.
I'm wearing one of these bracelets now -- and I'm trying to figure out how my daughter made it. She used three pieces of string -- white, light green and a blue-green, and wove them together, so there's about a half-inch that you see the blue-green, a half-inch of light green, then a half-inch of white, then the pattern repeats. I can see the other colors peeking out from within each colored section, but I would never have had the patience to sit still long enough and create this myself, as a kid or even now.
Good thing my daughters can -- now I've got to convince one of them to make me a braided necklace.

Son, you're starting waaaaay too young!

2008-08-06T08:48:00.000-07:00

I've written about my aversion to co-ed sleepovers ad nauseam. Well, my soon-to-be-kindergartner is already in on the trend. Always a ladies man, he's been torn between Emmy and Janet over the last year. One of those girls is going to be my daughter-in-law. Emmy's got something on her competition, though, since she and my son will attend the same school starting next month. Janet, his first love, will be in the neighboring town. Will absence make the heart grow fonder? Will the regular presence of Emmy push Janet out of his heart? Only time will tell. Then they'll hit first grade and they'll all have cooties and it won't matter anyway.
Last night, out to dinner with friends and their kids, my son walked up to Erika and siad, ""Emmy's mommy, can I have a sleepover with Emmy?" That sent Emmy's daddy Ted's eyebrows up. Before Erika could answer, my son got in the hook with this attempt at reassurance: "I promise I won't let her go outside!"
"You'll have to ask her father," Erika said. When my son made his move there, Ted answered, "You know she comes with Tana (their shepherd) who protects her." That perked my son up, he thought he had a chance! "OK, you can send Tana. I can watch Emmy, and I have a big yard. With a big gate so Tana can't get out!"
Mental note to self: Gotta get that kid a dog one of these days. Second mental note to self: Ignore first mental note -- we already have a cat, a fish, four kids and two full-time working parents. No time or room for dog.
We managed to distract him away from the idea of a sleepover with Emmy and/or Tana for the time-being.
"That's it, we're gonna be in-laws!" said Erika.
Only time will tell. After the eventual cootie infestation has cleared, that is.

Play fair.

2008-08-05T08:42:00.000-07:00

Working at a newspaper, I get a lot of feedback from people both on and off the job. Some good, some bad. My republished blog that runs in Friday's paper is the one that gets the most -- lately everybody I know is reading it!
But my other job inside the newspaper -- editorial writer and letters editor -- has me dealing quite often with people I don't know, some happy, some not so happy. Some call in to thank us for a position we took, some call to thank us for running their letter, some call us to rail against an editorial or to argue their case on a letter of theirs we rejected.
I do like dealing with people on that level, whether to take criticism or hear some kudos. (OK, admittedly I like the kudos better.) You really learn skills of diplomacy. I took some tips from my predecessor letters editor, Larry Benjamin, who had a very deep concern for those phone calls, positive and negative, and every letter received, that each got consideration and care. And he was quite good at gently, carefully calming irate readers by carefully listening to their problems. That's something we all have to learn around here -- people call the newspaper for help, to complain or to have a wrong righted. Sometimes we can say yes, but when we have to say no, or to defend a position we've taken, you have to understand where the other person is coming from at the same time you're backing up your own position.

I try to impart the concern for others to my kids. With the little ones, it's easy, but not quite as necessary since their dealings with others are only at a certain level. But I try and encourage them to be kind -- to not jump in on any teasing that goes on, to stay out of other kids' personality clashes they might have, and to learn to deal with their own by remembering that the other kid is just as much a human being and has the same feelings and the same rights they do. They don't have to like everybody, but they should do their best to be fair to everybody.
It's tougher with teenagers. There's a few years where they just gel with their own group, and some have a diminished sense of consideration for others. We all do, to a point, have less concern for people outside our circle. But I suppose the best we can do is impart the idea of fairness to our kids. And to set the example.

Move it, move it .... it's catching.

2008-08-04T12:59:00.001-07:00

The walking bug is spreading. My neighbor Marj has walked a few miles in the mornings for years. During the school year, she's out too early for me. It has to be sunlight. But it's been a wonderful, early morning stretch of the legs for us all summer with our early morning 3.5 to 4 mile walks. I haven't had to change the battery in my MP3 player yet this summer.
On Saturday, my buddy Kate and I walked the Neptune City 5K --- always a pleasant stroll, with big smiles and "hello's!" from the water-stop volunteers, plenty of residents cheering you on from their porches and yards, some with their sprinklers providing a nice cooldown. I usually try and run it, and since I'm not fast, I come in mid-pack. We both signed up to walk and were strolling behind everyone when Katie sensed my need for speed and told me to go ahead. I plowed into the "wiggle walk" for the next 2 miles and wound up with a third-place racewalking trophy. Whahoo!
But we had so much fun, we decided to sign up for a few more 5k's, and when I was talking to a few other women from our club, they were interested in joining up too. I think we'll hit a few in the fall. Running or walking, I've always had a blast at these events.
When Marj was away on a vacation, I was out on a morning walk/jog when I ran into another friend, Linda, who was out walking her dog. She said, "I ought to get walking" and I offered to come by the next morning. We had a few morning walks that were great, then she went on vacation and Marj came back.
This morning Marj and I were approaching our halfway point from our homes when who do I see coming in the opposite direction, but Linda, with a neighbor of hers. They did a few miles too.
I miss the times I had to be able to go to the gym, and when the weather cools down and the mornings are dark again I might be swayed to return there. But these morning walks are a joy to me -- with friends or, since it's a great time for thought, alone too.

Thanks, Michelle

2008-08-01T07:04:00.000-07:00

I've had a pretty rough week. Yesterday, it all came to a head. I won't go into details, but suffice to say, I felt beaten down at the end of the day after the culmination of several different problems all coming to a head at exactly the same time, then one of those problems went overboard.
I needed a timeout, a friend said. I did, indeed.
So I was sitting at our beach club last night, telling my friend Dianne my tale of woe, when Michelle came up to talk to us. Michelle is a developmentally disabled adult, sweet as can be, and she loves to come up and chatter with us. We often don't understand what she's chatting about, unless she's showing off a new piece of jewelry to us, or pointing at her ever-present purse. She loves her bling, and seems to love it when we compliment her on whatever baubles she's wearing.
She usually comes and chats away for a minute, then will move to someone else and chat to them. And it's the same thing -- most people don't understand her, but seeing her smiling face and hearing her happy chatter, you can't help but smile.So when she came up, Dianne and I smiled and said, "Hi." She chatted for about a minute, then leaned over, kissed me on the cheek and walked away.
Dianne and I froze. I've known Michelle and her parents for years and years. She's never done that. And she only kissed me, not Dianne. How'd she know that was the medicine I needed?
I almost cried. OK, I did cry a little bit. A few minutes later I sought out her mom, Jackie, and said, "This has never happened before. Honestly, I've had a God-awful day, so bad I feel like I've been beaten to a pulp. Michelle came up and visited with Dianne and I for a minute, then before she walked away, she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek."
Jackie's jaw dropped. Just as I thought, it's really rare for Michelle to kiss somebody like that.
She's got a gift, that Michelle. Parents whose children don't have disabilities have a hard time understanding the unique issues that parents like Jackie and Charlie have, but we also don't fully comprehend the joy she gives them too. We pity, but we don't often share in that special love.
I got to share in that last night. Michelle was the best remedy for my pity party. I only wonder how she knew.