Warning

As I am sure is true about a lot of cities, there are certain times of the day where it is virtually impossible to get from point A to point B in a given amount of time.  The witching hour for our neck of the woods is 4:00 pm on a weekday.  Everybody and their dog, laptop, soccer ball, or ballet shoes has someplace they need to be.

I've been spending an extraordinary amount of time in the car during the past month.  My schedule is so full I want to cry.  It's partly my doing, as I wanted to cram trips into the most compact schedule possible, piggy-backing every class I could so that I could build up the largest chunk of at-home school-time hours I could, but ultimately I am at the mercy of the class schedule in the first place as I have to work with what I get.  If it were up to me, I would not be on the road during the witching hour.

Tuesday is the tightest commute day, and Wednesday is so full I'm wearing a stopwatch and barking out new move-out orders every half hour, it seems.  On Tuesdays, I have exactly 30 minutes to transport Rylan from her Lego Robotics team practice at point A to her tumbling class at point B.  In between these points is several miles of green space as they are in different cities. This requires that I get her out of the door on time at point A (hasn't happened yet, as Lego is fun), and that I drive with laser-sharp focus to navigate the minivan-choked roads to get to point B.  I've tried three different routes, and the interstate "seems" the quickest, provided there is no massive miles-long traffic jam, slowing down to check out the vehicle pulled over on the shoulder TO CHANGE A TIRE. *WOW*

This past Tuesday I was paid a personal visit by a state trooper on the side of a very busy three lane highway during the commute from point A to point B.  I had just pulled off the interstate, gone through a couple of intersections, and was just pulling through another one - after stopping for a red light - when lights fired up behind me.  I wasn't even aware I had a trooper behind me, as I was deep in conversation with Jordan about what spatial organization in paragraph writing means.  (This is where I can say with pride that, yes, my 14 year old and I were engrossed in how a writer can lay out a description of their topic in a spatial way.  This is new territory for us since I have mainly focused on expository writing with him over the years, and to me, I never really thought about using spatial organization when, for example, writing a five paragraph essay about 'Why I enjoy camping'.  Seriously?)

Anyway, lights are flashing in the back window.  I look at Jordan and stupidly ask him, "Me"?  Is he wanting ME?  What did I do?  I couldn't have been speeding, we were just at a stop light!"  I notice the other cars around me, which are all traveling faster than me, so no, I certainly was not speeding.  What the hell?  I start talking out loud to myself, because that is what I do when I am a little freaked out.

"ME?  Why me?  What did I do wrong?  Shit... stupid car get out of my way so I can pull over!  Here?  Should I pull over here?  Is he still behind me?  Did I just say the s-word out loud?" (winning!)

I pull over, put the window down and turn off the car.  And then I turn to look at Jordan and point to the paragraph about spatial organization in his language arts textbook and continue what we were talking about.  Like I said, we were engrossed.  Maybe that was the reason I had committed some horrible traffic violation and wasn't even aware of it.

Finally he approaches the car.  He was the spitting image of this guy:

We are big Jimmy Fallon fans, and so I couldn't help but crack a smile.  He cocks his head to the side and looks into the back of the van to survey things.  "Are they twins?", he asks as he's looking at Owen and Colin in the back seat.  My smile froze.  fuuuuuuuuuck......

(Colin is a chronic unbuckler or even non-buckler.  Half the time when we drive across town, as we unload Colin just casually slips out from his car seat.  I know that he cannot unbuckle the ridiculously notorious red button on the center buckle, so there is no way for him to exit his seat unless he didn't buckle in the first place, the twerp...  I constantly forget to make a point of double-checking before we start driving.  (winning!  again!)  So as the trooper is examining my children, I am afraid to look around and see for myself if Colin is buckled or not)

I try a diversion tactic instead.  "Would you believe they are two years apart?  So, should I pull off over there, instead?"  pointing ahead to where the shoulder is a lot wider, because right now I am in a pretty narrow spot thanks to the stupid car that wouldn't get out of the way.  He tells me no, and asks if I knew that my left rear brake light was out.  "No, really??? I had no idea". (total lie)  "Can I see your license, insurance and registration?"

Dammit.  Now we are going to really be late for tumbling.  I have yet to make it on time for this stupid class.  I hate our schedule....

I comply, after sweating for a few seconds worrying about if I had remembered to switch out the insurance card for the new one.  I continue talking with Jordan, the kids seemed nonplussed that we've been pulled over, (??), and then he comes back, gives me my cards back and a warning ticket about the brake light.  "You get that light fixed as soon as you can, okay?  Drive safe!"  How can I stay safe?  We are all maniacal lunatics just trying to get from point A to point B, on time or as close to it as possible.

I shove Rylan out the van door when we get to point B, and then after class I go in and explain to her teacher that Rylan will be late by 10 minutes every week until the end of November when her Lego team finishes with competition.  She nods in understanding and admits she was late for class too.  "Traffic...it is just impossible to get anywhere on time at this time of day!"

Tell me about it.

Bouncing back...

One of the kids' favorite TV shows is America's Funniest Videos.  It was my favorite when I was growing up as well.  I've noticed that a certain (disturbing) video seems to get a lot of air time, and never grows old.  It's the video of a well-endowed woman trotting on a horse, with her boobs flopping up and down from chin to belly button.  The video clip makes me cringe, every time.  I am embarrassed for her - how awful that a less-than-flattering image of her becomes a regular video clip for all of America to laugh at on a weekly basis.  I hurt physically for her - I've been there, and it is painful.  I am disgusted at who we all are as a people, that we still engage in the monstrous behavior of poking fun at the physical attributes of certain people.

I hate the 'bounce'.  For YEARS I have refused to do stuff that would cause it - running, jumping, dancing...it would just draw sideways glances from some, to outright rude stares from others.  Jumping was the worst.  I loved jump rope games at recess as a kid, but as the years passed and the chance came around again for me to jump - as a teacher on recess duty, I always told the girls 'no' - I'll turn the rope, but no jumping for me.  I eventually gave in and did it once.  My resolve broke down - they were having so much fun and begging me to jump too, so I couldn't resist.  One year after having Rylan, there I was, jumping rope.  One, two....three jumps and my bra strap snapped.  I'm not kidding.  I dashed to the classroom and had five minutes to fashion a fix with duct tape before the whistle sounded.  Fast forward six years to when my daughter just turned seven.  She received a beautiful new jump rope from a friend for her birthday, and really wanted to jump.  So we went to a park one afternoon and Dean and I turned the rope for her.  I jumped a little, just to give her some pointers, and Dean politely said that my shirt was flying up and things were falling out.  So that was the end of that.  In the back of my mind that day, I already had the big upcoming BR surgery to focus on...I knew change was coming, and that in a years' time, I would jump the hell out of that rope and not feel a hint of bounce - and no x-rated peep show to boot.

So three weeks ago, when I found my opportunity to jump, I felt absolutely elated.  I wore my iron-clad sports bra that had proved itself on many a run post BR surgery, and I was ready.  I jumped.  I jumped in front of people.  I don't know how to express just how huge that is for me, but I am trying.  For years I have tried to shield myself from others, but on that day - I was in front of people.  I jumped and I jumped and I jumped.  Inside, my heart was absolutely singing.  I was trampling all sorts of personal demons as I jumped up and down, left and right.

And then I slipped and fell.

I went from the highest high to the lowest low in seconds.  My little shovel can't dig deep enough or fast enough into my personal pit of despair.

How fucking unfair!

HOW FUCKING UNFAIR!

Years and years of pain and physical set-backs that made exercise off-limits.  Three pregnancies, plantar fasciitis, bursitis in my hips, shoulder surgery, breast reduction... lots and lots of chiropractic visits and physical therapy....and now THIS??  NO!  I was poised for the most awesome and active summer ever, and now I have a torn ACL, torn MCL, sprains, bruising and swelling... the laundry list from the MRI is so ridiculous it is laughable.  I have many months ahead of me with my knee in a brace, surgery, therapy...blah fucking blah, blah, blah.  I hate to bitch but it's the Murphy's Law(ness) of it all.  It just plain sucks.

Yeah...I have not been in a good place these past few weeks.  I felt it best to detach myself and let the emotional freight train run its course.  I'm a mess, inside and out.  The only thing to do is get back in the saddle and start over.  Again.

So in trying to find something to smile about in all of this, I thought that my downshift into a snail's pace means that I will have time to smell the roses.  All of them.  Twice over.

Elasticity

On Wednesday we had our homeschool PE class.  One mom was teaching cooperative games, and at the end I led everybody outside and we finished up with a quick 'how-to' on the game 'elastics'.  Here in the states it is known as 'Chinese Jumprope'.  I learned the game as 'elastics', when I was 10 years old, living in Canberra, Australia and attending primary school there.  I still have my original elastic band that I brought home with me at the end of that year, although it isn't as stretchy anymore.  Kinda like me.

Elastics is a fun, yet challenging game.  You make up a routine with your friends, and you have to follow it without messing up.  Messing up can include snagging the elastic band, stepping on it (or not stepping on it), skipping a step and so on...  If you make it through the entire routine, the band is moved up the leg to a higher position, and then you do it again, and again, until you mess up or can't jump that high.

As a ten year-old, I could make it up to about hip-height.  I remember the playground, my friends (who were a very eclectic, international mix, given the close proximity of our primary school to the University), the sounds, the smells... this was by far my happiest memories of Australia from that time.  I do remember one of the girls from the group - Josephine (she pronounced it yaw-seh-feen), who was Belgian and always right.  She would argue and argue if you called her out during her turn.  She annoyed me...so no happy memories of her, at that rate.

Anyway, so I led the kids outside to the grassy field because I figured it was a softer landing if anyone tripped and fell, and for me, it was easier on the joints to jump on the grass versus the gym floor.  I launched into my explanation of the game, even going so far as to say you can jump with shoes on, but I prefer barefoot because you're less likely to snag the elastic on your shoe and get called out.  So I called Jordan and another boy over and had them stretch the elastic between them, at ankle height, and demonstrated a routine.  It was the routine that I played in Australia, revised in the parts where my memory gets fuzzy.

So, begin by standing with both feet to the left side of the bands, with the bands at ankle height.

00 |  |

0|0   |   Hop and straddle the left side

|   0|0   Hop and straddle the right side

| 00 |    Hop to the center (both feet)

0 | | 0   Hop and move both feet to the outside so that you straddle both bands

0\\0    Twist the bands between your ankles as you make a quarter-turn to the left

00 | |   Hop out to the left side of the bands, back to where you started from.

3| |    Turn a quarter-turn to the right to face the left band, nudge your toes underneath it

\

|3|   Hop over the right band, carrying the left band over it with the top of your feet

/

/\   

00    Turn a quarter-turn back to the left, and you are now standing in a diamond shape.

\/

0 | | 0  In one hop, you jump high and turn a 180 to face the opposite direction in mid-air, and come down straddling both bands.

.....and that's where I fell.  I hit the ground in a wide straddle, but my bare feet on damp grass meant that my right foot slipped back and to the side, but knee stayed put.  An audible 'POP!' sound was plainly heard by everybody, and I dropped down onto my backside.

It's embarrassing to fall in front of people, but our group is a different breed.  Within two minutes, one mom was pulling out some arnica gel (which I totally believe kept the swelling to a minimum), one ran to get a bag of ice, and another was comforting me.  She herself had badly sprained her ankle a few weeks ago.  I dragged myself backwards so that I could sit in the shade and then wondered what to do.  Could I drive?  How the hell am I going to get to the car?  No way would I allow anyone to carry me.  Providence meant that an older girl attending PE that day was on crutches herself, after cutting the bottom of her foot only a few days before.  Her mom said that I could use the crutches - they had more at home.  Wow.

We watched the kids jump for awhile, and then I was at my pain limit, I needed to get them home and get myself to Urgent Care.  The rest of the day was long, painful and tedious.  I had a long drive to an adjacent town to pick up my new CPAP machine.  Urgent Care took almost two hours.  The doctor did unspeakably painful things to my knee, slapped a brace on it and sent me home.  He told me to make an appointment with a orthopedist.  I had to drive back and forth to Loveland, twice, to get Rylan to dance pictures.  All the while I tried not to throw up, which I desperately wanted to do.

Three days later I am able to hobble around without the crutches, but driving is excruciating.  I see the ortho guy on Monday.  I suspect a torn MCL.  I can stand to put a little weight on my foot now, but the knee is constantly slipping sideways out of joint, causing involuntary gasps and yells due to pain.  I don't think that is normal.  I get to look forward to a summer of rehab.  Again.  This is how I spent last summer - rehabbing my shoulder. This summer was supposed to be lots of walking, running, and hiking.  Several 5K's were on my to-do list - including one today.  I am pretty bummed, but trying to keep it in perspective.  At least the injury is something I can recover from.  It is so small-potatoes compared to what many people in conflict areas are dealing with on a daily basis.  I guess with rehab I once again get to focus on me.  Getting around for a couple days on crutches just reinforced for me that my upperbody strength is pretty much nonexistent.  

Funny thing about the examination room...we were in this same exact spot with Colin almost two months ago, when he broke his leg. 

A boy breaks his leg...

If there ever was one of our kids to end up in the ER, it would be Colin.  He's the rough-and-tumble one.  I can't remember a time when he didn't have a bruise somewhere...  I just always assumed that regular trips to the ER would be the norm for this kid.  I am completely amazed that it took him four years to finally make that happen.

Just a couple of days ago, on Wednesday afternoon, Colin broke his leg jumping on the trampoline.  I was upstairs, pulling laundry from the dryer.  Dean was downstairs, working on the computer.  Dean happened to be home that day, as he was feeling like crap that morning and decided to call in sick.  As the day went on he felt better, so he was getting some work done from home.  I had just come from downstairs, and I had noticed in passing that the neighbor and his kids were jumping on their trampoline.  I heard the bustle of Jordan and Colin going outside to do the same thing.  Within a minute there was yelling and screaming coming from our side of the fence.  I hollered down to Dean to go tell Jordan and Colin to be quiet so that they wouldn't annoy the neighbor who was outside enjoying some time with his kids.  Then I heard Dean come in with a sobbing Colin and he brought him upstairs.  I came out of our closet where I had been putting the laundry away, and there was Colin, laying down on the floor and Dean looking him over.

Now, I am the kind of mom that is the wait-and-see type when it comes to injury.  99% of the time it is not as bad as our four little drama queens make it out to be.  I am hard-pressed to even dispense a band aid.  There has be BLOOD...LOTS of it.  This time around I was skeptical.  There was nothing outwardly wrong to suggest that there was an injury to Colin's leg, except the fact that Colin refused to put any weight on his leg and seemed to be in a lot of pain.  I manipulated all of his joints in both legs, there was no swelling, and he couldn't point out the exact location..he just indicated the entire left side of his body, which isn't exactly specific.  As time went on the area under his left knee grew warm, so we figured that was where the fracture likely was.  (Well, we didn't know it was a fracture, but all signs were pointing that way..)

Given the fact that he refused to bear weight, Dean thought it best that we go to Urgent Care.  Now, in the meantime, Jordan completely lost it.  It was basically his fault.  He had jumped hard on the trampoline, in order to bounce Colin really high.  It was intentional, but totally meant in the spirit of fun.  The kids like it when he does that.  We were kids once too, and we both remember that it was fun to bounce kinda crazy like that.  The problem is, Jordan can't quite regulate his quest for fun with keeping things safe.  We've warned him a thousand times that Colin and Owen are too small to bounce really hard like that, and to keep it in check.  He forgets...  So, as it became apparent that it was serious, Jordan just lost it and started bawling because he felt so bad.  Even at 13 going on 14, Jordan is a sensitive kid, and he wears his heart on his sleeve.  So, we asked him to pull it together and hold down the fort while Dean and I took Colin to get checked out.

The exam was pretty quick and routine.  Colin was not happy to be there, and refused to talk to any of the doctors or nurses.  He wouldn't even accept a popsicle from the doc - I had to be the go-between.  He had a couple of x-rays done, and sure enough, there was a small fracture line at the top of his tibia.  The doctor placed his leg in a splint and wrapped it up and sent us home.  Nothing could be done, casting-wise, until the swelling went down.  Of which there really was none, but whatever...

Since the splint goes up the back of his leg and up past his knee just a bit, Colin can not bend his leg.  So getting him home, strapped in the car seat was an issue at first.  Luckily we had a spare fleece blanket, and so we devised a long sling to suspend his leg.  We used the handle that is just above his seat to tie the blanket to and adjusted the height so that his leg was at just the right angle - it actually worked pretty well!

So for the past day and a half, Colin has been either on the couch or in bed.  We have to carry him everywhere, so bathroom trips are the most difficult thing right now.  His leg has to stick straight out, so I have to prop it up on my knee while he sits down and does his business.  His siblings have been kind enough to bring various toys to him and take turns playing with him on the couch, but I can tell this will get old, very quickly.  I think reality set in for him a bit yesterday, when he asked if he could go outside and play in the sandbox with his trucks.  'No'.  Jump on the trampoline?  'Are you serious?  No.'  Ride his bike?  'Uh...no'  This kid is a constant mover.  So the upside is that we will now know where Colin is at all times.  The downside is that Colin won't be happy about that.  At all.

Today we are going to the orthopaedic center - the same place I had my shoulder surgery done - to see a specialist.  Unfortunately the pediatric guy was booked solid, so Colin will be seeing a 'bone specialist' instead.  This is probably a good thing, because the fracture line is awfully close to the growth plate at the top of the tibia, and this could lead to some serious problems as Colin grows - like uneven bone length kind of stuff...  We'll know more in a few hours.

Not happy to be here...  "Stop lookin' at me!!"

Daddy helps with the popsicle

He looks happy here.  Which totally does not make sense.

A close up of his x-ray.  The length of the fracture is hard to determine here.  The top of the tibia is called the metaphysis.  The gap is the epyphyseal plate (growth plate) which is filled with epyphyseal cartilage, and the smaller section above is called the epiphysis.  The metaphysis and epiphysis eventually fuse together, and ossify, in the late teens.  The growth plate is where new bone growth takes place.  The further you travel down the bone shaft, away from the growth plate, the harder and more mature the bone.  Fractures in young children often take place at the ends of  long bones, where the bone is very fragile still.  Fractures in this area are problematic because they can interfere with the growth plate doing it's job in producing new bone.

When the day is done...

I had a crappy weekend.


Like, really crappy.


Events in the dramatic lives of that of our homeschool community - our email list of families we know and love, and of families we have never, ever met except through words on the computer screen - took a real nose dive early in the day on Friday.  And...well, I was as deep in the fray as you can get. 


Here is the gist:
Over a month ago, a lady I've never met comes up with an' issue' that is really a non-issue.
Others on the list chime in, and now they've hopped on the bandwagon too.
Really - it's a non-issue.  We solved this non-issue two years ago.  I remind them of this, because it is my job, as Secretary, to keep tabs on the happenings of our group.
They all proceed to ignore me.
I spend a few hours of time I don't really have to explore this non-issue further.
I share my findings, they all still ignore the facts, but they want a meeting.
I reserve a space, outline the procedures for the meeting (after researching what they are) and announce the meeting - again, not because I am a busybody, but because it is my job.  This, again, takes hours of time I don't really have, but I did volunteer for this gig.
The day of the meeting, the lady who wanted the meeting alludes to the fact that she will not be attending, and asks who can be her proxy.
She gets an immediate response, but sends her stuff to someone else.
The meeting time arrives.  Eleven people from our group of 120 families show up.  Really.
We have great discussion for two solid hours.
We never really to do hear what this lady had to say, because of technical difficulty with a smart phone.  Nobody's fault...
Not surprisingly, everybody at the meeting agrees that this really is a non-issue, and we table the discussion.
Meeting results are announced the next morning by somebody else.
The lady immediately flies off the handle, and accuses the attendees of the meeting of making rogue decisions without input, and that we voted out of fear of the issue that is a non-issue.  She uses some pretty bold language to make her point.


What would you say?  How would you feel?


Here are my feelings at that precise moment I read her email...


I spent HOURS of my time researching in preparation for this meeting, this meeting that this lady wanted to have, and she didn't even have the courtesy to show up, or at least offer an explanation before the fact.
A few other individuals spent hours of their time as well.
What this lady said felt exactly like a slap in the face.
This group is the most ungrateful bunch of whiners on the planet.
I have given sooo many hours of my time, on behalf of this group over the years, and it really, really sucks that so few people are willing to share to load.
This lady just hit every last nerve in precisely the right spot to provoke an immediate response from me.


So I responded.  I called her on her choice of words, I reminded her that people put a lot of time into this discussion - a discussion she didn't even bother to attend - and that all who were in attendance made the kinds of decisions we did based on the information we had at that moment, and that no VOTE had been made - just an agreement to form a committee to look into this issue that is a non-issue further.  I've been one of the moderators for this email group for a long time, and have handled many a blow up.  I am blunt when need be, but not mean.  My concern has always been that our discussions be civil, but not personal, because we are a community, first and foremost.


Her response?  The most pathetic passive-aggressive response you can imagine.  Complete with terminology like" I'll crawl back under the rock from whence I came".  I did not attack this lady.  I called her on her choice of words.  I called her on her assumption that others would be doing the work.


I send a message right back - not giving her the attention her words are craving for - but letting her know that we are a community, and her opinions are of equal value to everyone else's, and if she still wants to share them, join the committee!


A friend immediately responds privately to me with kind words, as she knows exactly how sensitive I am to this kind of thing.  It helped.


Another 'friend' immediately responds privately that my email was too long and attacking, that I should have let '__' respond instead, and that I should now be quiet and let others 'sweep up the mess'.  My thoughts?  Not fit to print here, I'm afraid.


I see two other friends in person a couple of hours after this all began.  They both thought that what I said had to be said, and that I said it just fine. 


And then more time passes, more emails are written on the thread (not by me), and then the paranoia sets in.  I begin to second-guess myself.  I begin to think that my friends are just being nice, but that they don't really know how to tell me that I am actually a real bitch when these list blow-ups happen, and that I don't really handle it well.  Ever.


Yeah... deep paranoia.  Now I am the one crawling into a hole.  And that is where I have been all weekend, in a deep, dark hole feeling like everybody just puts up with me but doesn't actually like me very much.  I've been doing a lot of reading and thinking - and the things I have come across have all spoken to me in a different way.


A blog post about what our calendar really says about us...


My calendar says that I prioritize time spent doing things for our homeschool group and our girl scout troop way too much.  It also says that Rylan has too many activities - but she doesn't seem to think so.


An article detailing the experiences of Rachel Canning, an innocent woman mistaken for another Rachel Canning, an 18 yr old girl suing her parents for college tuition, in regards to strangers engaging in cyberbulling.


This quote stuck with me: "It's really shocking how bold people can be when they're behind a computer screen,"


Ouch.  And the truth is - its true!  When you are behind a computer screen, writing to somebody you have never had personal contact with, it IS shocking the things you can say.


I don't want to be this person anymore.  I don't want to be the person that tells other adults how to behave.  The type A in me will never bring other people in line to my liking, and why - oh why- does it matter so much to me in the first place?  Why am I more concerned about some other lady's issues than with the fact that my six year old still struggles with identifying all the letters of the alphabet? Where the hell are my priorities?  I don't know..


Here is one more thing that got me thinking.  It's a song by The Alternate Routes, Nothing More.  I've listened to it, over and over this past weekend.  Here are some of the lyrics...  It is the last line that sticks with me the most.  I think it pretty much sums up my emotional well-being for the past ten years, actually.


To be humble, to be kind.
It is the giving of the peace in your mind.
To a stranger, To a friend
To give in such a way that has no end.


We are Love
We are One
We are how we treat each other when the day is done.
We are Peace
We are War
We are how we treat each other and Nothing More


To be bold, to be brave.
It is the thinking that the heart can still be saved
And the darkness can come quick
The danger's in the anger and the hanging on to it.




I am an angry person.  I get angry when I want to resolve a situation that I know I can't control.  I get angry when it's really sadness and fear I feel.  I get angry when I don't know what my role is.  I get angry when I feel apart, separate.  I get angry when I feel overwhelmed.  I get angry when I feel hurt, or frustrated.  Anger is my go-to emotion.  I guess I feel a little too comfortable there, since I spend so much time feeling this way.


Anger shortens friendships.
Anger shortens just about everything, really.


I don't want to be the person I am anymore, when the day is done.  I rarely feel good about my day when it's over.  I am usually listing my regrets, playing that endless negative loop in my head of what a terrible person I am.


I will be holding that first verse in my mind, repeating it over and over, in the hopes that I can remember to do better before I say or do something I will later regret - or at least wish I had handled it differently.  Changing the things in my life that aren't working is one thing, but changing a major personality flaw is a whole other deal.


The first step is always admitting you have a problem.

The day when the child became the adult

 

 

We all work hard at this parenting gig, every single day.  Some days you get it right, and some days you don't.  We should all lift each other up, right?  But, then...what about when it gets personal?  Like when you share parenting duties between biological parents and step parents?  You pour as much of your brand of love and wisdom into a child, only to send them on to the other parent(s) who *just* doesn't quite see the world the same way.  I don't suffer in silence very well.  When there is a wrong, I've got to talk about it, and search my feelings for how to resolve it.

 

Jordan just had a very difficult weekend dealing with his mom (over the phone) about upcoming plans for Thanksgiving.  This is a routine that I have seen take place since the moment Jordan and his dad came into my life.  The couple of weeks leading up to visitation with his mother is always fraught with tension.  In Jordan's younger years, it was hyperactivity.  Promises made over the phone of the junk food and good times to come made those days practically unbearable.  His mind was already there, on vacation.  These days, it is quite different.  Instead of chomping at the bit to get there, Jordan is filled with anxiety, and dare I say...dread?  I will dare to say that.  I live with him.  I talk with him.  I see his moods change.  I hear him make plans about how he will spend his time there - and they are always accompanied by the remark - "So I don't go crazy with boredom because there is nothing else to do".  There is still junk food, but that lure worked on a small child.  There are still good times, but that lure pretty much revolves around getting to watch things on TV that he doesn't get to here, and he sees through that now.  And that is about it.  There is nothing else to look forward to on this upcoming visitation.  For a child with ADHD, the need for mental stimulation is crucial.  It has been a constant worry in the back of my mind that if he does not receive it, he will go looking for it.

Back to the difficult weekend.. So this is, of course, a visitation centered around a holiday - that is why he is going.  That is why we are all going.  Jordan spends his week with his mom, and we stay on the other side of OKC with Dean's folks.  On Thanksgiving Day, Dean's two sisters, their husbands and their married children with little ones will be coming for dinner.  His two step sisters and their families will be coming to the house too.  These are all people that - if he is lucky - Jordan gets to see once, maybe twice a year.  He forgets their names...he forgets who belongs with who, and so forth.  But he likes to see them - they are all fun people!  The problem is with Jordan's mom.  This is technically 'her time'.  In her mind, Jordan is there to see her, not everybody else.  Did anybody mention it was a holiday?  A holiday that typically involves every last little cousin gathering at one location to eat and visit?  It only happens once a year?  It helps families connect and bond?  In the end she will begrudgingly allow him to come and visit for a couple of hours, but it seems that as the years roll by, the fight becomes harder and harder.  Most important to share here - by 'fight' I don't mean our fight to get permission for Jordan to come spend time with his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.  I mean Jordan's fight.

Look, I get the whole "it's my time" thing.  I'm a child of divorce too.  Every year the holidays were worked out a little differently, but both of my parents made sure that we got to see extended family in an equitable way.  We were lucky because almost our entire family lived within a four hour radius at the time, so it was doable.  So my personal experience is shading my opinion here.  Sharing is hard, but hey - that is a hard, sad fact of divorce.  Get over it.  You will be sharing in every event of your child's life for the rest of your lives.  You have one child, and two families.  That is the reality.  It is also reality that as the child gets older, they will have an OPINION about where they would prefer to spend their time.  Don't get on the wrong side of that opinion, or you will wind up spending the holidays all by yourself.

So let's explore that 'opinion'.  It is Jordan's opinion (YES, Jordan's - not ours that is being pushed onto him), that he would like to see his dad's extended family for a couple of hours on Thanksgiving.  Let me mention here that this has been the routine since the divorce - every alternating Thanksgiving and Christmas, we bring Jordan to OKC (and get our visit in too), and during that time Jordan has visited his dad's family for a bit on said holiday.  Why should this year be different?  So, this past weekend, Jordan shared this with his mom that he would like to see his dad's family, and the preferable time for that visit.  He got a flat 'no'.  No?  Really?  Why?

"(Stepdad) took the day off"  - (that's great... He doesn't see him otherwise??)
"We are going to visit your (other) grandparents" - (They have never done this.  Year after year I have been blown away by the very sad fact that holidays aren't too special in this particular household.  No big (or small) family dinners with the other grandparents, no special cooking, no rituals or traditions...)
"Why do you want to go?" - (Jordan has to explain why he would like to visit his family???)
"Who is putting you up to this??" - (apparently Jordan is unable to form his own opinions)

I could go on and on about the insanity of this current state of affairs, so I'll spare you.. but I will sum it up with this: I don't know what life experience led up to this woman's view of 'family' and all that it entails, but it makes me very sad.  Jordan is growing increasingly frustrated with his mother's overwhelming negativity and unyielding nature.  And that frustration is tainting his feelings towards her and his desire to spend less time there.

After Jordan got off the phone (in tears), yes, I will admit he got a little coaching from us on how to handle it next time.  It sounded something like this...

"If you want to see your extended family, you need to state it - firmly"
"You need to be ready to give a list of several good reasons"
"Don't let her change the subject in an attempt to derail your request"
"It's your holiday too, so you need to express what you want to do"
"Stress the point that it is only a couple of hours - that is a reasonable amount of time"
"Tell her this is not you rejecting spending time with her" (of course, that is how she interprets this)

So, the next evening when she called again, he immediately brought up the subject of Thanksgiving.  We motioned for him to stay within earshot - we were there for him, and it always goes bad when she gets him alone...  It was unbelievable.  A 15 minute long conversation, with raised voices and lots of arguing.  Again and again Jordan requested that she stop changing the subject.  He kept a level head, and kept stating his reasons (in a non-confrontational way) for why he wanted just a couple of hours on Thanksgiving to see his dad's family.  She was constantly asking if we put him up to it, and if we were telling him what to say.  It is as if she can't believe that he could possibly be capable of this opinion on his own.  And you know how it ended?  She laughed it off and said that SHE WAS JUST TOYING WITH HIM and that she was planning on allowing him to go all along.

What utter bullshit.  What a crappy way to treat your son.  What is even more sad - I don't believe that's the truth.  I think that she thought she could totally railroad him, was not expecting the fight, and lied to save face.  She absolutely resents anybody telling her what to do.  In this case, Jordan was telling her what he wanted to do - and since he is an extension of her, this was telling her what to do as well.

There is a silver lining here.  Recent events have revealed that Jordan is actually quite wise beyond his years.  There has been a complete role-reversal of parent vs. child.  He is the mature one, scolding and lecturing the badly-behaving immature mother.  He is all of 13, but we think that he has now surpassed her in emotional age.  She was acting like a child - all the way to the very end when she just blew the whole confrontation off as a joke on Jordan.  I am super proud of him and how he handled himself.  A big key to getting him through these next few years has been discovered - he sees his mother for who she is, and he knows how to deal with her.

So this brings me back to where I began.  I've just totally laid into another mom and criticized her ability to parent - do I have ground to do so?  Absolutely!  The day I said "I do", he became mine too.  I may be writing from the perspective of the stepmom - but does that make me count any less in this?  Guess who has to help pick up the pieces every time she behaves like this?   It hurts me so, so much, to witness what his mother's emotional instability does to him.  He never knows 'who' he will be speaking to on any given day.  The mom that is angry with everybody?  Will she be depressed or manic today?  This is not how to show your son love or security!!  And what's worse...he knows it and it has crippled his relationship with his mother.  He does not receive love in recognizable, acceptable forms.  They come in a twisted fashion, with strings attached.  He does not feel security.  Ever since the tornado incident this past summer, security in his mom's house does not exist.  A child cannot feel secure when they don't feel safe or know what type of parent they will be dealing with on any given day.  A child cannot feel loved when their parent purposely toys with their emotions and engages in deceit.

One last thought.  Teenagers often get a bad rap for being out of touch or surly or whatever.  I don't know about the younger three (but I have a bad feeling...), but in Jordan's case, we have a gem of a child.  He has a sixth sense about how to engage with somebody, and to what level he needs to relate to them.  I think, in part, that comes from dealing with his mom.  That conversation on the phone that he was having the other night - even though we could only hear his side - the things he was saying just left us speechless with pride.  He really does knows how to handle himself.  Damn... does that mean that I actually have to express gratitude to his mother for this?  Okay...I'll save it for the table at Thanksgiving, when I turn to Jordan and give thanks that he is such an awesome kid (and for the fact that he fought so hard for the right to be there in the first place).







The R-rated Family Camping Trip...

Ahhh... Family camping.  You have visions of hot dogs and S'mores, cozy campfires, filthy kids, the smell of pine trees and warm sleeping bags. 

Meanwhile your campsite neighbors have visions of 2 a.m. expletive-laced drinking games, loud sex, breakfast at noon, beer runs and more. loud. sex. 

Awesome.

Let me back up...

Fall 2010
 

To me, Dowdy Lake, near Red Feather, CO. is the equivalent of Heaven on Earth.  It is my favorite place to camp.  There are gorgeous views all around the lake, you can camp just feet from the water, there are rocks to climb, fish to catch, trails to stroll and so on and so on.  I have made it up here just about every year for the past 15 years or so.  It is only an hour away from home, and there is a small mercantile close by in case you forget anything.

 

This proximity and undoubted popularity is also it's downfall.  Seniors in motorhomes as well as families flock here.  But so does another element of society.  College kids.  Or at least - 20 somethings.  Many of them, that I have observed in too-close-for-comfort-camping-proximity, I believe, have never camped before.  The call of the wild, where these kids can let it all hang out, is just too enticing for some.  So, without any regard for their neighbors or Leave No Trace, they come to the mountains and thoroughly enjoy themselves.

 

I have, with maybe two exceptions, the unfortunate luck of an unpleasant experience with such individuals on every visit to this beautiful place.  Some memories are striking - as a nanny, I brought up three young children for a campout three years in a row.  Each time I had a run-in.  Young guys drinking and swearing until 2 am, just FEET away from our tent.  The last visit we had, I met the campground host when we arrived and informed him I would come knocking if there was a problem.  And, yes, at 1:30 in the morning I came knocking, and true to his word, he kicked the offenders OUT.  It is a long story, but a good one!

 

But this most recent visit, last weekend, blows any previous negative experience out of the water.  We had blocked out the weekend of the 20th for camping.  I don't know why I chose the weekend.  The two GOOD experiences were on weekdays, and that is what makes the difference.  I guess I forgot that bit, because I set aside this particular September weekend back in July.  As per usual, we arrived late... like set up camp in the dark late.  We wound up in the RV section, and our site was a $50/night DOUBLE FEE electrical site.  Whoops.  But it was night, hard to see, and we couldn't find any other open sites.  A neighbor down the way was out playing his mandolin and it was so beautiful to listen to, so it wasn't all bad.  And everybody in that area went to bed at 10pm.  Perfect!  But the next day, as I went down to pay for our second night (we had decided to stay put, rather than move everything) I spied another open site, right on the lake, in our favorite loop.  So we moved.  Now I know why that site had vacated....

 

So here we are, at gorgeous site #20.

 

 

 

See what I mean?  It is right on the water.  You can sit by the campfire (behind the table), watch the kids play by the water, or climb rocks (just to the right of the picture).  The bathroom is 100 ft. away, as well as the parking area.  Totally ideal.  This is my favorite loop.  There are five sites around the perimeter, and then two interior sites.

 

Let me back up again....

 

When we arrived the previous night, we set up our tent in the dark, had a quick campfire and roasted marshmallows and then went to bed.  As we went about our business, a few late stragglers were arriving and looking for sites as well.  Two cars in particular were practically racing around the different loops, looking.  You could see them and hear them as they circled and circled.  At about this time I had the little kids relatively settled, and Dean and Jordan went to go fill out a payment envelope for our site.  When they got back, Dean reported to me that the two cars had showed up at the payment area, and seemed totally confused as to what to do.  They asked him, "So how does this work?  Do we just pick one?  Do you know of any *secluded* sites?"  It was one guy from one car, and one girl from the other car.  I joked it must be a late-night tryst sort of thing...

 

So, come to find out, these same two cars arrived and parked in our area after we had set up in our second site, site #20.  I didn't see them when I had staked it out earlier.  If I had, I would have never moved.   It's not like I was totally focused on these people, but there were things you had no choice but to be exposed to.  When I had initially arrived, a bedraggled guy and girl were in their pjs, looking forlorn, stirring a smoking campfire at that site.  Then the others showed up.  Throughout the afternoon things just got weirder.  They all took a nap.  Then they got up.  They discussed their various drug escapades and juvenile delinquency for all to hear for the next few hours.  Two wandered over by the bathrooms and started madly making out.  What a romantic spot... just a couple feet away from stinky bathrooms.  It went on, and on, and on...  Later, Dean remarked that maybe they were high on Ecstasy.  A friend had told him (years ago) that the drug made you lose all inhibition like that..  Then they started a new campfire by using an entire roll of paper towels.  One guy made a big display of pulling off huge armfuls of towel and throwing it in the fire.  Idiots.

 

So - back to our family experience...

 

The kids fished and fished and fished.  Rylan caught her first fish ever, and so did Colin.  Jordan caught 10 in all.  I got to take a walk around the lake by myself AND read.  We had hot dogs, S'mores, cocoa and a nice fire to round out the evening.  How ever horrible this night was, I need to remember that we really did have a fantastic day.

 

 



 

So... nightfall comes, Colin falls asleep in his chair and the kids get cranky and tired.  Colin wakes up when Jordan pokes him, and fussed very loudly for a long, long time.  We struggle to get the kids in bed, clean up for the night, put the food in the car and tamp down the fire.  It is late, like 10:30 pm.  Another ridiculous display of paper towel flinging has begun as a spark-filled campfire grows 20 ft. away - it is time for more beer pong!!  Joy.  We crawl into bed, and the party is now revving up.  My head is on my pillow for barely 30 seconds before Colin wakes and begins to cry.  The neighbors are banging pots, digging through the coolers, shouting, laughing and carrying on.  Colin keeps crying.  Dean pulls him out of his bed and puts him between us, and he finally settles down.  The loud mayhem continues, but I drift off.  At 1 a.m., somebody hurts himself.. maybe a stubbed toe or something.  Every other word for the next half-hour is the F-word.  It is loud.  Beyond loud.  Now he's pissed about anything and everything.  He goes on and on...  I drift off again.  It is now 4 a.m.  I hear unmistakable grunting.  You've got to be kidding me.  Seriously?  It goes on for an HOUR.  Dean and I are awake the whole time, trying to decide what to do.  That's not all... as one pair is in the tent, grunting away.. the other pair and what I am sure is a third voice is still around the campfire, banging pots, digging in the cooler, and talking loudly.  I just can't wrap my head around this one.  Who in their right mind would do that?  Either party in this case?  I would be mortified!?!?  Then I smell the unmistakable smell of pot smoke.  I am itching for confrontation soooo bad at this point.  But these individuals are in a whole other class than previous parties I have delt with.  They are beyond approach.  Jordan stirs in his sleep with all the noise going on, and Rylan is talking in her sleep.  Dean has his iPhone on, and eventually gets a white noise app downloaded.  That really helped to drown out everything else.  But once you hear it, you can't not hear it.  At 6:25 the crows start up, I wake up and I immediately hear more grunting.  AGAIN??  wtf??

 

So - what is the best revenge for lost sleep?  Noise.  And lots of it!  I made about 10 trips back and forth to the water tap between 7:00 and 7:30.  That big boulder that was 10 feet away from their tents?  yeah, I may have accidently hit it with my pan, each and every time I walked past.   Dean and I had loud conversations.  Right by their tent.  We sent the kids to climb the rocks right by their camp site.  Our kids are not the quiet types.  Now don't worry about the other campers in the area - they were already up, so no - we weren't bothering anybody else.  They all looked as bleary-eyed as we did.  A lot of these campers are there to fish too, and early in the morning is the best time for that, so they are up anyway.

 

When these fine neighbors finally got up, the girls did the work of packing up and they left.  They never once acknowledged the entire time that anybody else was in earshot.  No eye contact, nothing...

 

We enjoyed our last hour of peace and quiet.  Almost every site had vacated.  That was when I had realized our sad mistake.  The other camping trips when it did go well?  Always in late September/Early October, and ALWAYS during weekdays.  We're homeschoolers, for goodness sake!!  We have the freedom to be flexible with our schedule!!





Back into the fold...

Jordan arrived home last week from his second round of visitation with his mom.  His plane arrived early in the evening, and it was a loud hyperfest in the back 2/3rds of the van the whole way home.  Rylan, Owen and Colin are very happy to have him back home.

We are too. 

Not sure what the emotional/behavioral damage estimate is, it was hard to tell initially, but I hope it follows the trend of past years and won't be as bad.  There will be the typical gaming deprogramming, of course, along with tapering off the need for constant stimulation from TV or computer.  It happens every year.  When he goes to visit, he constantly complains of boredom, so these are his only outlets.


I am glad Jordan is back, and in one piece to boot.  It is not a moment too soon.  This was a traumatic visit for us, waiting back here in Colorado.  First there was the EF5 tornado in Moore, on May 22nd, the day he flew out there.  Then, on May 31st, there was another tornado outbreak.



credit: NWS

Dean was at work that day, watching the weather warnings on the internet, and as things began to look pretty serious, he called Jordan to make sure that he was getting to safe place.  Jordan's mother's house is located where the green star is.  She has no storm cellar, no local shelter...nothing.  The storm trackers were predicting that the tornado was going to track eastward, along I40.  As you can see, the green star was IN THE DIRECT PATH of where the tornado was predicted to be heading.  (it did veer, inexplicably, south)  Jordan said that his mom and stepdad didn't think it was necessary to leave the house.  (!)

Let's just let that sit for a minute.  Just imagine.  You, sitting in a safe location, 800 miles away, can see and hear the local storm trackers and weather forecasters, by streaming a live feed over the internet, sounding the warning that if those individuals in the tornado's path cannot get below ground, they had better leave if they didn't want to risk losing their life.  Your loved-one is IN that path they keep mentioning over and over again.  Keep in mind, the horrific scenes from the Moore tornado were only 9 days old.  These were seasoned forecasters - and even they were sounding a little freaked out.  That is what we can hear, that is what we tell Jordan, that is what he tells his mom - BEGGING to her that he wants to leave and go someplace safer.  You could hear the fear in his voice.  And?  She scoffs.

Scoffs.

SCOFFS!

It's been over a month, and yet I still want to reach out and strangle...someone.  This was, in it's totality, her move as if to say - "I am not going to do something, just because they (meaning Dean and me) are telling me to do it.".  That is all it was.  She was so DETERMINED to make her point and to be the one in charge, that she forgot to be the grown-up in the first place. 

The map above shows a second star, a purple one.  This is where Jordan and his mom eventually sheltered at.  After our third phone call that afternoon in the span of 20 minutes, where we went over what safety precautions he could take if they were indeed staying put, we heard back from Jordan about 10 minutes later that he and his mom were driving south to a hospital, where they figured they could wait it out in an interior corridor.  This was now a full 30 minutes from when the first warnings to GET OUT came.  (This would be the hospital that was eventually hit by the tornado)  They moved on from there, for whatever reason, and eventually ended up (at Jordan's suggestion) at a Homeland Grocery store, sheltering in a meat locker with 30 or so other people.  If that had been her move, when the warnings first came, I would be applauding her.  But not for this.  It was Jordan that got them to safety - not her.  If she had put aside her petty control issues and phoned Dean herself, and came up with an evacuation game plan WITH him, for the sake and safety of THEIR son, I would have been so grateful.

Co-parenting can be so much better than this.  But it takes a willingness to work as a team.  I am regarded as the enemy by her.  Jordan is routinely asked by her if I am treating him okay, or if I yell at him or push him around.  I have been accused of forcing Jordan to raise the kids for me - that in fact (and this is precious), the only reason I keep him at home to "homeschool" him, is so that he will take care of the kids for me.  Jordan was actually quite angered by this, and told me that he set her straight, reminding her that 'he is the big brother, and that is what older sibling do" (duh), and that he is homeschooled because he had such a rough start in public education.  The general classroom is not the best place for him with his ADHD.  Her response? "Oh..."

I've been thinking about the whole 'step-mother' short shrift for some time now...  Just like parents of every stripe out there, there are people of every sort.  Just because you are a biological parent, doesn't, by default, make you a good one - make you the better choice.  The better adult-figure in a child's life can be the neighbor down the street, the teacher, the grandparent, and yes... even step-parents.  I'm am not saying this to toot my own horn.  What I am saying is that she is trying to sell Jordan on the 'Disney' version of the mean, unfair (and ugly) stepmother, and he is not buying it.  In fact, he confided in his dad that he resents the way Disney always portrays the stepmother figure.  He says it is an unfair depiction.  I love that kid...

I do have a lot more to say on this subject, but I think I will let it wait for another time.

Free ranging at an airport

I, for the most part, embrace the concept of free range parenting. There are some things, however, that I have not been able to let go. I don't let my kids play at the park alone. I don't let them play in the front yard alone, or bike up and down the street alone - except for Jordan. Our specific neighborhood plays a big role in that decision. We live on the corner of a busy 4-way stop. A lot of drivers just blow through the intersection. We have the unfortunate circumstance of having many budding teenage drivers for neighbors. They just speed past the stop sign and barrel on down the street to their house. It is just not safe to let the kids out.

I don't hover at the edge of playground equipment, or make a big fuss over banged-up appendages. I let the 13 year old babysit. He and a friend were dropped off at a FunPlex recently, to hang by themselves for a couple of hours. So we are pretty adamant about giving frequent doses of responsibility to the kids as they age. Rylan and Owen regularly practice knife skills in the kitchen. Colin practices knife skills on the furniture. Rylan is learning how to use the stove, and Jordan has been using the stove and oven for a long time now. He does frequently need to be reminded to turn things OFF, though.

But the true test of Free Range came a couple of weeks ago. Jordan has been making solo plane trips from Denver to Oklahoma City since he was about 8 years old. In all that time, there has never been a mishap. In the past year, we have been working on increasing his independence with regards to these trips to the airport. The last time he flew home, he navigated from the gate he arrived at to the concourse train, and then on to the arrivals area in the main concourse, all on his own. I met him there, at arrivals, with the aid of a cell phone call to guide us to a meeting spot. He was ecstatic about doing it on his own.

Jordan just left for his summer visitation with his mom in Oklahoma on May 22nd. We were already running 15 minutes behind when we arrived at the airport, and then we encountered long lines at check-in. I asked Jordan if he wanted to go to the gate by himself. He said he wanted company - that he likes it when we send him off. Fair enough, but getting passes for all three kids and myself was going to add to the wait. Then we had long security lines. We got on the concourse train, and we began making plans. Jordan had exactly nine minutes to get to the gate. He was going to make a mad dash for the gate the second the train arrived. I would follow with the kids. Of course his gate was at the FAR end of the concourse. The train stopped and Jordan bolted out the door and up the escalator faster than I have ever seen him move. (He's going to come to regret that I saw that...). He was nowhere to be seen by the time we got to the gate. I called his cell just to make sure he was actually on the plane. I asked him to ask the person sitting next to him if he was on the plane to Oklahoma. The adjacent gate was boarding as well, and they were going to Florida. Just making sure!

We stayed at the gate and watched all of the departure preparations. We watched the plane take off. Owen cried when the plane banked and flew beyond our view. Then my cell beeped with a text message. Dean was letting me know that large thunderstorms were approaching OKC, and tornadoes were predicted. Great. I had just put Jordan on a plane to send him straight into a huge storm. Over the course of the next hour the storm grew, and Jordan's plane was diverted. The storm spawned an EF-5 tornado, and it decimated the southern side of Moore (several miles south of Jordan's mom's house), claiming several victims.

Now, we knew that morning of his flight that storms were a possibility. There had been bad storms in the OKC area the night before. When we packed up his backpack, I made sure he had plenty of snacks and some extra money, 'just in case'. "In case of what?", Jordan asked me. The chances of his plane being diverted was pretty high, and who knows where he would end up? Jordan looked a little nervous at the thought. The plan had been to get to the airport and eat lunch on the concourse, just before he boarded his flight at 12:30 pm. The long lines dashed all hopes of eating. So, when I heard that his plane was diverted to Amarillo, I felt terrible, knowing he was hungry and stuck on a plane. A bag of mini-Oreos wasn't going to go far... Then we got word that he was flying on to Dallas, where he would have a two hour layover and then a board a different plane.

This was good news to me, since that meant he could get something to eat. Jordan told his dad he would walk around and find something good. We were satisfied that he was totally capable of handling himself and being safe. But the other parent in this picture, Jordan's mother, was not satisfied. She was completely freaked out. She told Jordan that he would NOT be wandering the airport to get something to eat. (Yeah, good luck with that..). She called him multiple times, just to see that he was alright. Dean texted him once. I texted him once, after one hour of the layover had passed, ("Everything good?"), and then I called him once, when I knew it was time for him to be at the gate. I called for two reasons. One, I knew that it was evening, and his meds would be wearing off. My concern was that he would be so involved with a game on his iPod, that he might lose track of time. Two, he has the tendency to rush when he is stressed, and I wanted to make sure he took his time and had the correct flight and gate. When he answered, he was totally aware of what time it was, AND he was at the correct gate. Awesome job, Jordan! He did sound harried, though, because of the endless calls and texts from his mom. I wish she could understand that he is a capable young man, and to trust him more.

Of course every child is different, but we strongly believe that it is age appropriate for a 13 year old to be able to successfully navigate an airport for a couple of hours, in an emergency situation. We have been working on independence skills just for this very scenario. He is not afraid to approach an adult with questions or to ask for help. He knows how to judge a person to know whether they are safe to approach in the first place. He had money, and he knows how to use it, sparingly. He had a phone, in case of emergency. He knows how to problem solve. He's experienced independence in smaller doses in an effort to bolster his self-confidence. That is what raising children is about. You want confident, good decision-makers that can handle themselves accordingly when things don't go as planned - because you won't always be there to hold their hand.

Was I worried? I suppose, a little. I was worried that he would waste his money on candy. That was my main worry. I wasn't worried about abductions, child predators, drug dealers, getting lost, getting mugged...nope. I totally put that stuff out of my mind. I was worried about candy, of all things! And I was worried that he might be tempted to turn off his phone, if his mom irritated him enough. It's happened before.

Jordan has had plenty of practice with decision-making in the past. Some were good, some were head-smackingly awful. (what-were-you-thinking!?!?!?). Luckily, most of the price tags for those mini-lessons in life were small. We want to keep it that way.

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The shark in the pool...

 

 

 

One of my most unpleasant memories from childhood concerned the neighborhood bully, Alan Aragon.  (oh hell no, you don't deserve the anonymity of the Internet, Alan - I am calling you OUT) Alan lived just down the street from my family, and he was about the same age as my older brother..maybe a little older (I guess to me, he seemed like a really, really big kid) and I was very afraid of him.  He would push kids around at the bus stop, he threw my backpack under the bus as it was approaching, he stole my brother's bike and hit my brother when confronted, and worst of all, he played a mean, mean trick on me.

 

There is nothing worse than someone pretending to be who they aren't.  One day, after school, the phone rang.  We were latchkey kids back then (do they even exist anymore?), so I answered.  The male voice on the phone started out by making sure I was the 'pretty girl who lived in the white house'.  (creepy huh?).  But it was a young kid's voice... so I wasn't thinking that it was a predator.  That was before they existed. (ha!)  The voice continued to lay on the charm, and eventually revealed that he was a boy that lived one street over.  I didn't know this particular boy very well, but I thought he was cute.  He invited me over to his house, where he said he would be waiting out front to give me a 'great big kiss'.  (Ewww).  My 8, 9, 10 ?? year-old self was so incredibly flattered by this. This had never happened before!!!  Go me!!!  So I told my brother I was going to a friend's house.  (This was the 70's, remember?  Back when it was safe for a child to walk 50 ft. down the street.  Alone.)  So I walked.  I approached his house.  There was nobody outside.  I don't recall exactly what happened next - most likely because I've repressed it - but it involved Alan and his buddies approaching, taunting me, laughing and being really shitty.  I ran home.  I. was. mortified.  I have carried that emotional scar for a long. long. time.  I don't like pretenders.  Fakes.  People who pretend to be something they are not, just so they can get a laugh at the expense of others.

 

I've had more than my fair share of fakes in my life.  My ex-husband claims the #1 spot, followed by more than a few sleazy bosses, customers during my waitressing days and a few friends from my school days.  It hurts the worst when it comes from someone you think you know.  It is the pain of the surprise - you didn't see it coming, even though you were evidently swimming in the pool with a shark for the entire time.

 

  





Weekly Wrap-up - The one that went on forever...

 

Yes... this was the week that dragged on...and on...and on...

 

Monday was the only good day of the week... work got done, nothing broke and I didn't die of a heart attack.

 

Tuesday was non-stop go and go.  Jordan had a counseling appointment in the middle of the day - due to a scheduling brainfart on my part - appointments are supposed to only be during the last week of the month if at all possible.  The good news is that this was the last appointment - we have finally graduated to an 'as-needed basis' in regards to counseling.  Yeah!  Later in the day I went to my GP and she combed through my info, ran an EKG and did a couple of chest xrays in order to figure out what is going on with my ongoing chest pains.  No nasty tumors lurking in my chest, my heart performed admirably and I'm not going to drop dead any time soon.  Unless of course you factor in stress.  So that leaves only one other test to perform - which is to hook up a portable heart monitor for a couple of weeks.  My heart racing incidents have dropped off significantly, and the chest pains have also lessened in intensity and duration.  I hate it when I don't know what is wrong.  The only thing she can attribute the discomfort to is a muscle pull deep down in the tissue.  I can't agree with that - I can't believe that a muscle pull would begin to hurt when I not engaging my muscles at the time - ie. sitting or lying down.  I am still secretly worrying that it is a lung tumor that didn't show up on the xray.  Silly... I know.  The day ended with a board meeting for our homeschool group.  A good meeting  - attended by most of the board and one other member.  I am confused.  I see all of these parents joining our group for the simple reason of looking for support and social interaction, yet hardly a one will show up at a board/support meeting or a Park Day.  We are now 165 member families strong, with several pending, and the lack of attendance just confounds me.

 

Wednesday just sucked.  We were off to a good start and then we went to Park Day.  Only one other dad was there.  Jordan brought his gigantic Lego bin and the kids played and so on.  Owen got bored and asked to play a game on my 3 week old iPad.  He sat on the blanket and played for a long, long time.  We were packing up to go, and Owen stood up, and stepped on the blanket/soft grass and onto a paved pathway, *just* as I was saying do not get up and walk with the iPad... and he dropped it.  Face down.  

 

 

This is the corner that took the brunt of the blow.  It flexed and cracked two other corners as well.  I didn't know whether to cry, scream or throw up.  (And if you are secretly happy that the iPad that I keep going on and on about was damaged - piss off).

Owen was lucky that we were in a public place, and I managed to keep my composure.  However, it did not help that the other dad that was there said in a very know-it-all-told-you-so voice "Should of had an Otterbox on it!  We have one - we put it on there immediately.  Is that the newest iPad?  Do you have Apple Care coverage?"  Uh... I don't know?  My husband bought it...

We went on with our afternoon - dance lessons and karate, and then sped down to Boulder to go to the very swanky Apple store to see what could be done.  As we drove along the diagonal highway that leads into Boulder we suddenly heard a peculiar click-click sound, and pulled off as soon as it was safe.  There was a huge bolt sticking out of one of the rear tires.  Nice.  We were close, so we drove on to the outdoor mall in the center of town where the Apple store was.  Dean changed the tire and I went into the Apple store.  Nice place.  Nice people (at first).  I felt stupid carrying in my battered and broken iPad.  And then I felt an intense amount of dislike for the fresh-faced twenty-something who exuded an extreme level of techie snootiness.  He had no sympathy.  No Apple care?  Sorry.  (And you can tell he was privately thinking "What an idiot!")  He informed me that they would be happy to trade it out for a new one.

For $299.

Shit.

There are asshats out there who would say "How can you be upset about getting a brand new iPad for only $299?"  Because I can say that we already forked over twice that only three weeks ago (!) for a brand new iPad.  And I can be pissed because I have had iPad envy for two years now, and this was the first 'toy' that was just for me.  ME.

The good news is that the cracks do not go over the screen except for one little crack in a corner.  The iPad is functioning normally, and Owen's hide is still intact.

The bad news is that we still have a nasty underlying issue in our house - destructive kids.  Owen may not of intentionally dropped it, but he did not obey the rules that I had set with use of the iPad: you don't walk around with it, you don't hold something else WHILE you are holding the iPad (Owen had a toy in his hand - which is why he bobbled it in the first place), you only use it while sitting at a table or on a couch or a bed, in a carpeted area.  He walked off of the blanket just when I reminded him not to.  We have kids that don't listen.  Kids that do not understand the inherent value of an object.  We are the toy graveyard.  Toys that come into this household are being sent to their doom.  That goes for clothing too.

**And I know that Rylan's violin teacher is reading this - and I can personally assure you that the violin you have entrusted us with is probably THE most guarded and protected item in this entire household.**

Thursday morning dawned bright and early because I had to visit Discount Tire to get the tire taken care of.  Two new tires and $227 later (at least we had coverage on the tires??) we were all set to go on a daisy field trip to Hearts and Horses - a therapeutic riding establishment that relies heavily on volunteer support. 

 

 



We had a great time.  I was preoccupied by constantly texting back and forth with my husband about the next step to take with Apple.  When we got back home later that afternoon I spent a couple of hours combing the Internet looking for solutions.  It looks like Apple dumped their "Oops!" policy of replacing a broken screen for free when the iPad 3 hit the market.  Damn.  So the next-best option was getting an Otterbox.  The cover would conceal most of the cracks, and protect it from flexing some more (which would mean even more cracks).  In the meantime, my husband will have to convince me that he can replace the screen himself.  So later that evening the kids and I went out and purchased an Otterbox case at Best Buy.  $99 bucks well spent.

Front.  The skid pads are nice.  This cover snaps on and off  (you lift at the corners) and then it becomes the resting tray.  It has a built-in stand so that you can prop up the iPad at different angles.

Back.  It has an opening for the camera lense, the all-important Apple logo and speaker.

Sitting in the tray.  My only complaint is that you have to press really hard on the 'home' button.

The other element to Thursday was receiving the sales packets for the fall Girl Scout fundraising campaign that runs through the end of September.  Nuts, candy and magazine sales are in the offering.  My family has been most generous and we have garnered quite a few sales in just two days so far.  What isn't so fun is that Jordan is in the midst of his boy scout popcorn fall sales campaign as well.  Jordan and Rylan have been going out most every afternoon this past week drumming up sales for him.  Since Jordan helped Rylan with cookies sales last year, it's her turn to assist him.  Fun times around here...

Friday was a better day - sort of felt like a day to catch up on everything that had been put-off for the week.  Schoolwork was minimal - so I don't think we are going to be taking off next week like was planned... we have too much catching up to do.

That seems like an endless mantra around here....


(And I only mentioned the word 'iPad' 13 times!!)