Juggling Life

Things That Make Me Go "Huh?

So I was at this lovely party Sunday night. We were under a pop-up tent at a concert in the park; our neighbors had set out a beautiful spread of hor'dourves with plenty of wine and beer (well, maybe not quite enough beer--they didn't know I was going to drink as much as I did!). The following conversation took place when I was on my first beer. Upon sober reflection, it may be the reason I drank the next few.

Very Well-Off Woman and I are surveying the spread--mixed, grilled vegetables on a pie crust spread with cream cheese and Boursin. Melon wrapped in Prosciutto, luscious red and green grapes and Brie, peppers stuffed with cream cheese and topped with pine nuts. Buffalo mozarella topped with slices of tomato and basil and drizzled with olive oil. All delicious, all beautifully presented.

I comment on how fantastic it all tastes, but admit to a bit of guilt since I've just finished reading Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. Very Well-Off Woman isn't familiar with the book, so I give a brief synopsis. Transporting our food from far-off places = not efficient, big carbon footprint. Eating locally grown produce in season = better for the environment. I mention that I found it ironic that I purchased the book at Costco at the same time I bought a Chilean pineapple, Ecuadoran bananas, and Mexican avocados.

She looked at me incredulously. "You don't really feel guilty about buying pineapple because of it's 'carbon footprint'?"

"Yes, I do. I think I should do a better job eating locally. I'm going to join Bee-Wise ranch cooperative again. I quit because I didn't always like the vegetables, but I should just cook what's in season, not simply what I have a taste for."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. This world's been around a long time and there's nothing we're doing that's going to change that. I say eat whatever you want regardless of where it comes from. Life's too short to worry about stuff like this."

Huh? I'm guessing she thinks the Kyoto Protocol is a bunch of hogwash. I'm also assuming she won't be giving up her Lincoln Navigator anytime soon.

You can see why I had to have another drink, right?

Universal Health Care Why?

I spent several hours on a morning last week in a venue that provided some stellar people watching. My nephew, Gangsta Boy, was born with a congenital birth defect (cleft palate, bilateral cleft lip, premaxilla) that requires ongoing and expensive medical treatment. Right now his dad is without a job. We all know that no job = no health insurance. So we were navigating the necessary bureaucracy to get him some medical coverage. I'm sure you can picture the fun.

Anyway, seated a few chairs a way, was an attractive, young, blonde woman. About 26, very pretty, shiny ponytail. Her cell phone rang and I overheard the following conversation. I don't have it verbatim, but it went something like this.

"Well, that's not the only thing that happened. My daughter fell off the slide at the park and broke her front teeth. It was $600. Yep, after the $300 last week for her ear infection. So I think I'm going to marry this guy. He's military. He's not that cute and he's not really my type. But he is nice and it's great insurance."

Blogging Drunk Part 2

I went to a friend's bday party tonight. It was a concert in the park--very cool community activity. They are our neighbors. I drank a substantial amount. Let's just say "over the legal limit." I didn't drive. I did walk to another friend's house and use the restroom, even though it only her mom was home (and she may have been a bit surprised).

When we got home my friend and I declared our undying love for one another in her driveway. She's a Republican, I'm a Democrat--as if you didn't know. Still, they are the best neighbors you could ask for--it had to be said.

Let me just leave you with this. For my friend Maggie the lyrics for the Rolling Stones "Brown Sugar" had to be rewritten to "White Sugar." Yes, she's that hawt!

You Call It Spying; We Call It Parenting

 

Yeah, katydidnot might have a copyright infringement issue here!

Open House: Brain Power Central

Manager Mom wanted to expand on Mrs. G's Heart of the House post with a look at where we do our thinking and working at home. We don't have a home office at our house--that's by design. Even though we have a big house, I still like to live like we did when we had a small house; everyone together as much as possible. That's why the kids don't have TV's in their bedrooms. With three laptops and a desktop, the great room is often one big office/social networking space.

My "thinking work" consists of schoolwork toward my teaching credential and blogging. Both activities require the computer. I've had a laptop for about 18 months and I honestly don't know how I lived without it. The laptop's portability means I have the choice of two places to work.

My preferred place is here, where I can be in the middle of the action.

When I need a little more quiet, I head upstairs.

Overheard

MVP opens his new graduation laptop that is resting on the couch:

MVP: What have we here? (Holds a popcorn kernel skin aloft for all to see; rotates it to catch the light). Who do we know that both eats popcorn all the time and is addicted to the computer?!

Me (looking shamefacedly at floor):

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While watching the last episode of Season 3 of Weeds.

Me: I'm beginning to think Nancy Botwin isn't a very good mother.

MVP: Ya' think?

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Social Butterfly and I are driving along, listening to a Hip-Hop station. I decide it's time for a lesson in metaphor:

Me: Do you know why all these songs are always talking about lollipops?

SB: No.

Me: What do you do with a lollipop?

SB: You su . . . Oh. EWW!

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This one is from my BFF (Other Mother of my Kids), OMomK. She is driving up the road to Lake Tahoe with her 13 and 18 year old daughters, Care Bear and Big Sis. OMomK is reminiscing about driving this road with their dad, her late husband, long before they were married.

OMomK: It was about 3 in the morning and we were on E.

Care Bear: Mom! That's so dangerous.

OMomK: Yeah. Your Dad used to be a little irresponsible about those things when he was young. He was always on E.

Care Bear: I can't believe you guys would do something like that.

OMomK: Well I was really nervous, but he was sure it would be fine.

Care Bear: I just can't believe you would be so irresponsible. You could have been killed!

OMomK: I don't really think we would have been killed.

Further discussion on this topic revealed two different conversations taking place. In one, OMomK was discussing driving a twisty mountain road in the middle of the night with the gas tank needle on E. In the other conversation Care Bear heard her mother confessing that she and her Dad had driven this same twisty mountain road in the middle of the night while high on Ecstasy. Aaah, the generation gap!

In Which Social Butterfly and I Have 50 First Dates

I used to belong to a cult. Suz at Random Thoughts of a Busy Bee still belongs to the cult. Her posts have been making me think back on my time with the cult. Were we Moonies? Scientologists? No; we were part of the cult of Tournament Softball. Our sect was All-Stars; I believe she's in the more stringent Travel Ball sect.

It was our daughter that facilitated our departure--we were happy there. We had our peeps, we had our summer planned, we were drinking the kool-aid every weekend. She however, was done; she wanted to be a cheerleader. Which she is, but not before we tried to persuade her to be a volleyball player. It was a valiant effort, but no.

 

The Notorious All-Star Softball Cult. They will take your money and your free time. And you will like it!

Today's Flashback Friday is about an incident that happened in SB's last All-Star season; she was about 10+1/2. Old enough to be home alone for a short while, so when Mr. Fix-it was held up at work while Grown-up Girl and I were out shopping for bedding at a mall about 15 miles away from home, I told the mom that we carpooled with to drop her at home and let her know her Dad would be there soon. So that's what Carpool Mom did.

GuG and I are perusing the comforters at JCPenney when my cell phone rings.

SB: Mom, where are you?

Me: The mall. GuG and I are looking for a new comforter. Dad will be home any minute.

SB: Okay

Still perusing. Cell phone rings.

SB: Mom, where are you?

Me: ? I just told you, at the mall. Dad will be home soon.

SB: Okay.

Perusing. Ring.

SB: Mom, where are you?

Me: I just told you. What's going on? Are you fooling around?

SB: I don't know. I just don't know what's going on. I don't know who's here. I don't know anything. I'm scared.

No longer perusing. Walking rapidly toward exit. Give phone to GuG to talk to SB while I use GuG's phone to call OMomK (my bff, SB's other mother) to see if she can head over to stay with SB until one of us gets there. She's on her way. Call Carpool Mom to ask if her daughter knows if anything happened to SB at practice. Indeed. There was a collision between SB and a girl several inches taller than her during a drill. SB's chin hit taller girls shoulder and both girls went down.

As an aside, Carpool Mom's daughter complained about SB once she was out of the car. "Geez, mom, she was so annoying. She kept saying "I don't know how to play this game. Everyone was laughing at her." CM says to her daughter, "Maybe she was goofing around, pretending she had amnesia because she hit her head."

Or, maybe she had amnesia because she hit her head?!

OMomK stays with her while I drive down the freeway at 110 mph. We go to urgent care, but they send us to Children's Hospital. From the time I pick SB up at about 5:00 to the time she begins to retain memory at about 3:00 a.m. our conversations go like this. They happen at 3 minute intervals:

SB: Where am I?

Me: You are in the car/at urgent care/in the E.R./waiting for a CAT scan/ you hit your head on E's shoulder in practice and you have amnesia.

SB: Oh.

Would you be surprised to find that after about 5 hours I begin to giggle hysterically when she asks, "Where am I?"

Then there's the point where the CAT scan results are back and the neurologist diagnoses a Contrecoup, closed head injury with no internal bleeding (thank goodness, since the coach gave her Advil for her headache after the collision). She'll be out of commission for a week. I say, "So she won't be playing in Big Bear this weekend." She begins to sob (Big Bear is big fun). I pat her hand and say, "Don't worry honey, you're not going to remember this conversation in five minutes." I'm not sure the neurologist and I shared the same since of humor.

Her only memories of that day are of breakfast. Everything else is gone. It's been 3 years and she doesn't seem to have any ill effects from the concussion. The League instituted the Social Butterfly Player Collision Protocol, so no one gives Advil to hurt players or laughs at them when they say they don't know how to do a drill after being knocked to the ground after being hit on the head. We went to Big Bear to cheer the other players.

   Those long legs are now bare in a cheer uniform--no more softball tan!

              

                           Looks like she was throwing a strike!

The New Sheriff In Town or, More Accurately, Visiting the Town with the Tough Sheriff

This is a post about how things are going with my BIL and nephew staying with us. But first you need to understand my parenting philosophy.

I  believe, very strongly, that children do best when they are raised in an environment that offers routine, stability, safety, and clear expectations. I think that some kids could be raised by wolves and turn out fine, but that most kids really need the aforementioned environment. I'm not saying there's not more than one way for that environment to look, I'm just saying I think it's what kids crave.

My nephew has never had that environment. My sister had Borderline Personality Disorder. Her mental illness was extreme. If you've ever had a parent or sibling with a mental illness, you know that everyone connected with them suffers. With my sister, everything was her way or the highway; she called all the shots in the parenting arena. My BIL really had no say. If you're baffled by how that could be it's because you've never had an up close experience with someone with BPD.

Danger Boy, and my nephew, Gangsta Boy, are eight days apart in age. The homes in which they were raised could not have been more diametrically opposed. My BIL and I are on the same page in that some reeducation of GB needs to take place. It just makes sense for me to take on the job as their life is in transition and this is my house.

What is my starting point? First off, he's genuinely a good kid. Beyond that? He's never, and I mean never, been asked to conform to societal  expectations.

One example? He doesn't eat unless it's processed crap. You  might assume that's hyperbole, but no. We've had a joking but really serious conversation about how Fruit Punch Monster Energy Drink does not qualify as a fruit. He's totally offended by anything not purchased from a store or fast food place. I am introducing the concept of regular meal times and real food. A couple of days ago I just said, "you can't leave the house until you eat." He ate a PB & J, an apple, and a glass of milk. WOOT!

He's failed at least two classes every year since elementary school and was slated to be retained in eighth grade, but then he moved. I let him choose which books from the summer reading list for the high school he was being forced to wanted to read. In addition to regular food he's now on a diet of 25 pages a day of "All Quiet on the Western Front."  Pop quizzes included. This should begin to develop the homework habit--necessary if you ever want to graduate from high school.

He's doing regular chores and recycling cans and bottles for walking around money. There's no more sleeping until three or four--he's up by noon. (If that doesn't sound like a big deal you haven't seen how some teenagers sleep). He realizes that two hour-long showers per day just ain't gonna happen.We're letting the sagging pants and XXL shirts slide for now. (Although suburban, White, wanna-be gangstas really rub me the wrong way).

So back to paragraph one and how it's going? Phenomenally well. Everybody is getting along great. Danger Boy's been gone at water polo camp since GB got here; I know two fifteen-year old boys wrestling around will change the climate a little. Still though, I'm very pleased (as is the previously somewhat skeptical Mr. Fix-it).

The best part. GB is proving my parenting theory. He actually seems pleased (behind the obligatory groaning) to abide by the new laws. He's happy, happier than I've ever seen him in his entire life (also not hyperbole). All of us, BIL, Mr. Fix-it, MVP, SB, and I, are very hopeful that right now is the beginning of a whole new life for GB. Wish us luck!

A Picture, a Winner, and a Couple of Awards

A Picture . . .

 

Why is this a Wordless Wednesday photo? Because paying 700 plus dollars for this outfit left me speechless!

A Winner . . .

The Winner (chosen by Random Integer Generator) of A Summer Affair is PhD in Yogurtry. She was number 2. What makes this funny is that she was number 1, but popped back to clarify something, so was also number 2. E-mail me your info and I'll get the book in the mail.

The Awards .  .  .

I bet Grandy at Functional Shmunctional thinks I forgot  about this, but no. I've just been waiting for the right day.

 

And the lovely Suz at Busy Bee gave me this award, which is sweeping through the blogosphere. The Arte & Pico award is fun because you can visit the orignial site for the backstory--of course it helps if you speak Spanish.

 

Thanks to these lovely bloggers for their kindness and encouragement. As per tradition, I am forwarding these awards.

For the first award I'm going to use the adjectives on the award to pick the recipients. I know .  . . how clever am I?!

Informative: PhD in Yogurtry  for this very informational post.

Humorous: My good friend and fellow mother-tyrant Suburban Correspondent, who makes me laugh (maniacally) every day.

Unique: Kalynne Pudner. I'm pretty sure having 9 kids and a PhD in Philosophy fits the bill for unique.

Edgy: Who else has Everybody Can Bite Me Fridays? It has to be Suzy at Hollywood: Where Hot Comes To Die.

Bold: I'd say living Next Door 2 My Ex (or your ex as the case may be) is pretty bold!

For the Arte y Pico award, I'm going with those whose art inspires and impresses me.

Janet at Fond of Snape for her photography.

Melanie at BeanPaste for her photography.

The Smitten Image for her photography. (I think I might have a thing for photography!).

ChattyCraftyCook for her amazing job on the Weekly Word Challenge.

Gary at Potter's Blog for his incredible pottery. I don't own any. Yet.

Ok Award Winners, go forth and spread the love!

Toddler Vs. Teenagers 3: Movie Smackdown

Watching a DVD with your toddler:

Obviously they get to pick the DVD. You're likely to end up with Bob the Builder or something animated with a princess. It will quite possibly be your 9,701st viewing. You don't want to start it too late--no one wants to spend the next day with a mother of a toddler toddler that hasn't had enough sleep. Best not to bring out the snacks--not if you like your couch clean. Do not try to pretend your watching while actually reading or blogging-they're toddlers, not idiots.

Watching a DVD with your teenager:

Realize that since they can now see X-rated movies if they desire there's not really any point in being a censor. Woohoo--it's now totally appropriate to send them to Blockbuster for all 3 discs of Season 3 of Weeds. Have a marathon viewing session in which you watch 15 episodes over 2 days, pausing only to send the teenager out for Mexican food (eaten on the couch). Finish the final episode at 2:00 a.m. Sunday night--what the heck, it's summer and you can both sleep as late as you want the next day.

VS