Juggling Life

An Open Letter to Some Members of My Community: Why you gotta be like that?!

As mentioned previously, I was in charge of the buses for our high school's Grad Night. There were five buses and by 11:30 (an hour behind schedule, different story) four of the buses had pulled away and headed south to Dave & Buster's--about a 20-minute drive.

The last bus--the one my daughter and her friends, as well as most of the football team--were on, did NOT head south. It headed nowhere. The air brakes weren't getting air and while I really have no idea what that means, I do know that if a bus driver says he can't drive a bus because the brakes don't work, I am going to be damned happy he found it out in the parking lot and not on the freeway.

Since neither the bus driver nor I had a spare bus in our pockets, waiting for another bus was the only solution. Because this was the graduation night for our entire district, the only thing to do was wait for one of the buses to unload down at Dave & Buster's and come back for these kids.

As I describe this situation to you, the words floating through your brain are probably words like "inconvenient" and "minor irritant" and "sh*t happens."

Words and phrases that appeared to be floating through the minds of many of the football players, echoed and stoked by the attitude of the football mom/bus chaperon, were "tragedy of mammoth proportion" and "how will I ever survive this?" and "clearly I cannot be expected to endure an incident like this without special treatment."

Things actually said aloud:

Oh, my poor football players! Who gives a sh*t about the twenty kids on the bus that aren't football players?

But they haven't eaten yet! What will happen to them?!

They can't be expected to sit on the bus and WAIT for an hour!

But they're thirsty! What will happen to them?!

But he doesn't WANT to use the bathroom on the bus like everyone else! I am going to let him wander off into the parking lot where you can't see him and he will probably go to his car for a nightcap or maybe just get in his car and drive away after you've assumed responsibility for him by verifying his presence on the bus at check-in.

But HE HAS to get off the bus because he's claustophobic! Not because he's a football player and is too special for sitting on a crowded bus like the rest of the students.

Other things that were said out loud:

The bus broke down. Another one is coming. Yes, it sucks. No, it's not the end of the world.

These are healthy seventeen and eighteen-year olds. They will not die of stavation or lack of hydration in the next hour.

What part of these students are not to leave this area was unclear to you?!

Why is it that every time I turn my back you're letting one of your football players leave?!

Your football players are really a bunch of babies.

How about if you buck up and quit whining and kicking things and pretend like you graduated from high school today?!

To the mother that asked me what I was doing about contacting the bus company about compensation? You're absolutely right--we do owe them more money for having to deal with such spoiled, entitled, unpleasant people.

 

If you wonder why I don't put my house on the market and get the h*ll out of here, come back tomorrow for a feel-good story that will have you smiling and crying. I'm writing this story after pulling an all-nighter. The other story deserves a well-rested brain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Eating Disorder Chronicles: Party Time

Social Butterfly's high school graduation party was an unqualified success. I'm pretty sure nobody didn't have a great time.

 

Social Butterfly's friends seemed to be having fun . . .

 

Friends

 

Friends, continued

SB's extended family seemed to be having fun . . .

Auntie Laurie rocks her niece's heels

 My friends seemed to be having fun . . .

My friends Heidi and Heidi

SB's big brother seemed to be having fun . . .*

MVP gives his little sis a college primer

 

Best of all?

Social Butterfly seemed to be having fun . . .

SB and her brother from another mother

 

Friends redux

 

 

*Yep, that's a shot of tequila. Just one. (With a Sprite chaser which is all kinds of amazing when you're talking about the recovery of a restricting anorexic.) Some teenagers need to straighten up and some teenagers need to loosen up. Every once in a while you've got to throw the parenting manual out and just go with your gut.**

 

**Note to the authorities: Of course it's NOT a shot of tequila. That would be breaking the law and posting about it on a public blog. What kind of idiot would do that? I suppose if one was trying to make the connection that the personality characteristics of always being a rules-followers and having a tendency to be rigid and inflexible about right and wrong are characteristics that make it possible for one to be a restricting anorexic with strong notions about "good" and "bad" food, one might post such a picture. In theory, of course.

The End is Nigh and You can Stick a Fork in Me . . .

 

Social Butterfly will graduate high school on June 12--and she hasn't actually attended classes, except for one week, since the beginning of March. My last hurrah as a parent volunteer is handling the buses for the parent-sponsored Grad Night event.

I  did this same job last year and it is strategically chosen because it's easy (reserve buses in August, confirm number of buses needed and make final arrangements in May, make some sign-up sheets, handle getting the students accounted for and buses loaded from about 9 to 10 p.m. on the event night and then ferry some chaperones down to the event site [Dave & Busters] at 4:30 in the morning and supervise the boarding for the ride back to school) and not too time-consuming.

I made my parameters very clear at the outset--no, I won't be coming to the monthly meetings and no, I won't be helping with anything else. I did break my word by attending two meetings and putting the call out on Facebook for more volunteers.

I have enjoyed my many (oh-so-very-many) volunteer positions over the last 20 plus years of having kids in school, but I am acutely aware that it is easy to get sucked into doing more than you wanted to or have time to do.

It is also possible to not get sucked into doing more than you wanted to. Unfortunately, it sometimes requires you to assert yourself to level that might reasonably described as bitchy. When called for, I have done that.

I am not at all ashamed to admit it and I would do it again.

The one thing I feel a little guilty about?

At the last meeting I attended, a mother (I'm going to sterotype here and surmise her senior is her eldest child) lamented that we weren't letting the students keep their phones with them because she wouldn't be able to check in with her son in the middle of the night to make sure he was okay.

My response?

You paid $170 to ensure that he is safe at a parent-sponsored event from which there is no exit. If he never makes it on a bus, I will call you. Otherwise assume he's fine. And also? In about three months you will have absolutely no idea where he is at 3 a.m. so you might want to start getting used to it now.

She may or may not still be picking her jaw up off the floor. She is certainly telling her friends this story and casting me in a well-deserved unfavorable light. I. Do. Not. Care.

The signs are all there--it is time to stick a fork in me as I am done. Well-done. Perhaps even charred.

 

P.S. I am missing the final work party to ready guest rooms, write this and go kayaking. How guilty do I feel? Not a bit.

 

 

 

 

Planes, Trains and Automobiles

Inside this box--thanks to the miracle of space-saving bags--is:

• A full comforter
• A fuzzy blanket
• A pillow
• Sheets
• Towels
• A Lamp
• A swim parka
• A "suitcase" of poker chips
• Miscellanous items like cards, candy and school supplies

Danger Boy also has a large duffel with all his clothes, plus his swim bag and laptop backpack as carry-ons.

I'm writing this Saturday night and this is what tomorrow looks like.

• Plane from San Diego to Baltimore to Buffalo (leaving at 5:30 a.m.)
• Shuttle from Buffalo airport to Buffalo Greyhound station
• Bus to Erie
• Picked up in Erie by the team captain.

He moves into the dorm Monday and starts practice on Tuesday. Is it a little worrisome to send him off to do all this on his own? Yep. Do I have full confidence that he'll be just fine and mature a little as he does it all by himself? Yep.

If I begin to doubt it, I just tell myself that 18-year old go off to fight wars. This is college. It will be fantastic.

 

P.S. If that kid loses his passport and/or the several hundred dollars cash he has on his person because I didn't realize he'd never gotten an ATM card for his banking account? I will totally kill him.

 

What, Me Worry (Again)?

This is NOT a picture of my daughter, but it could be if only I had a helicopter. I've blogged about her love for all things daredevilish before--in fact, about this specific thing. It's what she was up to on Memorial Day. Danger and no cell phone reception; two of my least favorite things!

Street Legal

 

MVP (who may need to be re-monikered Mountain Man one of these days) celebrated his 21st birthday on Monday. I think I covered a lot of the things I love about him in his 18th birthday post.

I didn’t post about him on his birthday for the same reason you don’t decorate the nursery in your first trimester. Superstition. And the viewing of too many Dateline NBC episodes on the dangers of binge drinking and the 21-shot club.

His Facebook Status Update was all kinds of priceless.

Finally 21! Now I can try out that alcohol all my friends are always talking about. I hope its as good as they make it out to be!

Luckily, my son is a kind and indulgent soul where his worried mother is concerned.  Some text message exchanges. I think you can tell which ones are me.

Enjoy! In moderation!

I’ll moderate tomorrow.

Ack! How about moderate overindulgence?!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

How are you doing?

this is MVP’s friend katie. he’s fine just a little drunk

(Insert chipper tone here) But not too drunk I hope . . . I am a worrier about 21st bdays and alcohol poisoning. Are you looking out for him?

all jokes mom. we just got to the bar but I’m doing just fine and plan on being fine all night.

(Insert hopeful tone here) For real? What is your Dad’s middle name.

Terry

Woohoo! Now I can sleep!

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Later that night I asked him to text me when he got home so I could know he was okay as soon as I got up in the morning.

I’ll do my best to text you when I get home. But my punctuation alone should be an indication that I’m fine.

He texted me when he got home. Thank goodness! And I can cross one worry off my list!

Questioning Authority

I noticed something about the way I interact with my kids when Pedro was here—and having my husband home all the time has highlighted it.

I require obedience from them, but I don’t require blind obedience. In fact, I’ve put up with a lot of “negotiating” over the years—I think it’s good to know how to negotiate and I also don’t like feeling powerless myself, so I never wanted them to feel powerless. At least if you get to try to make your case you feel like you were listened to; that’s my philosophy anyway.

Now that the youngest two—who “negotiate” a lot more than the older two ever did—are in their late teens they tell me “no” all the time. Pretty much every time I ask them to do something. That was in stark contrast to Pedro, who said “yes” to everything.

Me: You need to clean the bathrooms after school.

Social Butterfly: No.

Me: Please get the trash cans from the curb.

Danger Boy: No.

Me: Would you mind vacuuming your room.

Pedro: Sure!

The other stark contrast was that SB and DB always do what they are asked to do. Pedro never did (without umpteen reminders). I figured out that I much preferred the way my kids operate. They say no, but they do it.

Mr. Fix-it is not quite on board with the defiance/compliance dance the kids and I do. But he’s learning.

SB was headed out with a friend and this was our exchange:

Me: Curfews at 10, so be home by 10:15. (I’m okay with them leaving a public place at official curfew).

SB: 11

Me: 10:15

SB: 10:45

Me: 10:15

SB: 10:30

The door closed behind her. Mr. Fix-it looked a touch apoplectic. “Don’t worry,” I said “she’ll be home by 10":15.” And she was.

More Danger Boy Stories—I’ve Got Lots!

Suzy asked if it was true that the nurses told me DB would be “different” on the basis of my labor and his birth. ‘Tis true indeed. Almost all the parenting books I read (and I read many!) supported the idea that a “spirited” child would have a birth story different from his/her siblings.

                     Jenn and Danger Man on his 18th birthday

When DB was four months old my mother and I took him to Costco. He was fine on the way there, but once we got inside he started screaming at the top of his lungs. And he kept screaming. We abandoned our cart and drove him home, sure that there was some physical malady causing him excrutiating pain. I carried him into the house still in the car seat and set it down in the entryway to shed my purse. He stopped screaming, gave his body a little shake and smiled as if to say, “Thank god we’re home—I can’t stand that place.”

My mother and I looked at each other incredulously because we both read his expression and body language the same way. He wanted out of Costco and he knew damn well what he was doing. As we grew to know DB better we both remained convinced that he was consciously manipulating us.

When DB was 18 months old I was getting things set up at the co-op preschool and he kept taking a ride-on toy onto the mat. Frustrated, I said to him, “Do not set foot on that mat again!” He got off the big wheel, stood next to the mat, put his hands on his hips and, quite deliberately, put one foot on the mat.

When he was 3 my mother and I were sitting at the kitchen table chatting. He kept interrupting us. I finally said, “If you continue to interrupt us you’re going to go in time out.” He reached up, put both both hands on my cheeks, pulled my face toward him and kissed me square on the lips. Then he smiled winningly and said, “No, I’m not.” In between gales of laughter my mom warned me, “You’re going to have your hands full with that one.”

He was 4 & 1/2 when, upon our return from a trip to Canada and overtired beyond all reason, he started crying and, to better express his frustration, he raked his nails down the sides of his face and flung his head backwards. He was standing in front of the stove. He took a mole off his cheek and needed six stitches in the back of his head.

When I say there was never a dull moment with this kid, that is the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Do you have a crazy kid story to share? I’d love to hear it—if you don’t have kids, what is the craziest thing you did as a kid.

Bullies—Pushing Back

Unless you a) live under a rock or b) don’t watch television or listen to the radio you’ve doubtless heard and seen the story of man who confronted the school bus bullies that were taunting his disabled daughter.

Since we’ve been talking about bullies (and since the ever-insightful Suzy Soro and I had a great email conversation on the topic) it would seem like we should definitely talk about this.

My stance on what the father did is that I absolutely get where he was coming from—and I’m not going to say I might not have reacted in a very similar manner—but I also think the police had no choice but to arrest him. I hope the outcome is that charges against the father are dropped, the bullies are dealt with and the school system (who, along with the parents of the bullies, is most culpable here) changes drastically and immediately. I hope this ends up having been a wake up call.

School culture has a huge impact on how students behave. The school I worked at last year had every special ed program a high school can have. It’s not a perfect high school, but it is a very special place. Teachers and students alike are on high alert for bullying and it is dealt with immediately. Programs like Circle of Friends are in place that promote empathy and understanding—and they work. We owe it to all our children to make all our schools this type of welcoming environment.

What should the dad have done? I think he needed to confront the situation and defend his daughter—I just think he would have made his point better and kept from getting arrested if he had kept his temper. His reaction served the purpose of making those who had been bullies into victims—which didn’t serve his cause well and he now realizes it.

But his daughter had been treated abominably and I think he should now get a pass. If this was ongoing and he had tried to deal with it through appropriate channels, than it’s no wonder he blew.

After I wrote last week’s post and then watched the coverage of the incident I recalled something I had forgotten. When Danger Boy was about 18 months old he actually was bullied—by a 3 & 1/2-year old boy. The setting was a mom-run co-op and apparently the older child didn’t like that DB was doing all the “big-kid” things. DB, having started walking the day he turned 8 months, was very agile and had advanced motor skills. He climbed to the top level of the playhouse and rode the Big Wheels with no consideration of the fact that he was supposed to be a “baby.”

Within a one-week time span there was a bite, a punch and then a push from the top of the playhouse stairs. One of the other moms talked to the culprit’s mother after the bite. After the punch I made the point that she needed to get through to her son that he had to stop hurting DB. After the push from the top of the stairs I talked to the child myself.

I knelt down, looked him in the eye and spoke slowly and deliberately, “You will stop hurting my son. If you do not stop hurting him, you are going to be in very BIG trouble. Do you understand me?” With wide eyes he nodded yes.

He never touched DB again.*

I actually refer to this moment as the time I went “neener-neener-nanny” (after Rebecca De Mornay’s character in The Hand That Rocks The Cradle). I wasn’t quite as scary as Peyton Flanders, but I was close.

I guess that for me the bottom line is that if you can’t or won’t do what needs to be done to protect your child, who will?

What do you think? Did the bus dad go to far? Did I go to far? Or would the world be a better place if parents felt like they could impose consequences for children behaving inappropriately—even if those children were not their own.

 

 

*The boy in question is, by all accounts, a fine young man today. The mother and I remained friendly. She was taken aback when I told her that I’d confronted her son, but I think that in the end she agreed that the proof was in the pudding—and in my bitemark-free, bruise-free, non-concussed toddler!

The Paranoid Parents Guide: Worry Less, Parent Better and Raise a Resilient Child: A Book Review and Giveaway Post

The winner of the giveaway for Halfway to Each Other is #14—Suz. She has a grammatical error to thank for that—she was correcting the “your” from her previous comment!

I meant: You're a heathen???
My bad. :)

Posted by: busy bee suz | September 02, 2010 at 11:41 AM

It’s a good thing the random number generator didn’t come up with #15—she’s already got the book.

Jenn, aka my new heathen friend :)

Thank you for taking the time to read Halfway to Each Other and sharing your heartfelt review. It is no small thing to help a brand new author share her story. I appreciate it so much~

I enthusiastically encourage all of those who have commented to consider a year with their family abroad. Such wonders await!

Susan

Posted by: Susan Pohlman | September 03, 2010 at 12:31 AM

Now, on to today’s book . . .

I love to read Parenting books—even now, with my kids almost grown, I flip through Parenting magazine at the pediatrician’s office. I am sure I have read a hundred parenting books.

This parenting book?

Is my favorite.

This is the book that I would have written if I had written a book. Common sense is the absolute bedrock of Christie Barnes’ philosophy.

She articulates (and backs up with solid research and data) exactly what is wrong with paranoid parenting.

For years I have maintained that the world is no more dangerous a place—and probably less so—than when we were kids. The difference is that because of the 24/7 news cycle we know about every horrible thing that happens everywhere.

I arm my kids with the best tools I can and send them off into the world.* Anything beyond that would be overprotecting them to the point it hurt them.

Christie Barnes, in The Paranoid Parents Guide, highlights the rules you should teach, where the risks really are, and trains you (if you are a worrier) to put your mind at ease.

This book is relevant for all parents. I think it’s worth reading even if, like me, you’re almost done with child-rearing or even if you’re a worried grandparent. Barnes is a reformed worrier herself; she has empathy regarding what we worry about and why we worry, but she also practices tough love towards parents.

What’s your parenting worry? I’ll pick winners from the comments next week. I can give away 1 copy per 10 comments up to 3 winners, so please—enter the giveaway!

Mine? Teenage car accidents. Hands down. It’s why I have for years driven my children by the accident scenes/memorials of teens in our neighborhood that have perished in accidents caused by recklessness and/or drinking. I want them to know that it could happen to them, but it doesn’t have to.

Thanks to TLC Book Tours for the opportunity to review and giveaway this book.

* I do have to admit to feeling vindicated by a lot of what Ms. Barnes says. My in-laws would have definitely described me as paranoid when the kids were younger because I was rabid on the subjects of car seats, helmets and life jackets. It turns out I was worrying about the things that needed to be worried about—that is the things that can be controlled and whose use provides the greatest safety boost.