I've gone and moved

here.

I'm not completely happy yet but it is what it is so update your links and I'll see you all there!

I'm not afraid to go BACK to prison*

It has been unseasonably warm here the past couple of days. In fact, my daughter's school lifted the "no shorts until after April vacation" ban. They are being allowed to wear shorts tomorrow. The Diva announced this to me immediately upon getting into the car this afternoon and quickly followed up with "I need to shave my legs. They are disgusting."

The Diva is 12. I have discouraged her from shaving for as long as I could. I mean, let's face it ladies. We all know what a pain it really is and the newness wears off quickly. I knew I wasn't going to discourage her for one more summer though.

This evening it was time for the big lesson. I told The Postman we were stealing borrowing his shaving cream. I rarely use it (and steal borrow his when I need it) so I don't have any.

Him: Why don't you just show her how to use the electric razor?

Me: Because it doesn't work as well. It doesn't leave the skin as smooth.

Him: What does it matter? NO ONE is going to be touching her legs.

Me: How very "stepfather with a shotgun" of you.

Sometimes the smallest, silliest things remind me why I love that man so much.

The troubles of adolescence eventually all go away - it's just like a really long, bad cold. ~Dawn Ruelas

* 5 points to whoever knows who said that!

Rosie is abusive?

Have you read about this yet? Have you seen all the pictures?

Admittedly, I have only seen one picture and the headline that accompanied it. It's a picture of Rosie O'Donnell with her oldest son. She has a stern look on her face and she has a hold on her son - I believe she is holding on to his t-shirt. He is back to, so his face is not visible. The headline reads "Abusive Rosie bullies son, 12."

Man oh man.

I am guessing these "journalists" are not parents. Because let me just tell you, as the mother of a 12 year old girl, if they are using these pictures as evidence of abuse, I know about 500 parents who "abuse" their children. Fortunately for them, they do not have paparazzi there to capture every.single.moment. of their lives.

My daughter makes me so angry sometimes that I need to leave the room or ask her to leave the room. She can be rude, mean, selfish, and nasty. She is 12. She has hormones raging through her body, and she has no idea that the world doesn't revolve around her. I remind her, that's one of my jobs as a parent. Does that make me a bully? No. I think it makes me a great mom. My children are learning respect, self control, and common courtesy. Sometimes I need to be stern to get their attention.

My daughter - in fits of self-absorption - has turned to walk away as I am in the middle of speaking to her. You better believe she does not get away with that. Have I ever grabbed her t-shirt as Rosie appears to be doing in that picture? I don't know for sure, but I bet I have. I may have even grabbed her arm to stop her from walking away.

For a magazine to publish those pictures with that headline accompanying it is shameful, irresponsible, and more damaging to that boy than anything his parents could do. His friends are going to see and read that. His teachers, community members, and well...the entire free world are also going to see it. One of my children's fears is that, if necessary, I will reprimand them in front of their friends, my friends, or our family. It is mortifying to them. Now that poor boy has his picture splashed on the front of a magazine so the entire world can see him being reprimanded by his mother.

Bullying? No. Not by his mother anyway - but by a big corporation that will sacrifice the well being of a child in exchange for a few bucks.

I never had a policy; I have just tried to do my very best each and every day. ~Abraham Lincoln

Another example of why I'm cool like that

The Red Sox Ring ceremony is on right now.

I'm crying like a baby.

'Nuff said.

We know we're idiots, we know we're cowboys, but we also know we're world champions.

~Upon sweeping the Cardinals in the 2004 World Series
10/27/04
Johnny David Damon
Boston Red Sox
CF

It's my day!

Better Days*

And you ask me what I want this year

And I try to make this kind and clear

Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days

Cause I don't need boxes wrapped in strings

And designer love and empty things

Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days

So take these words

And sing out loud

Cause everyone is forgiven now

Cause tonight's the night the world begins again

I need someplace simple where we could live

And something only you can give

And thats faith and trust and peace while we're alive

And the one poor child who saved this world

And there's 10 million more who probably could

If we all just stopped and said a prayer for them

So take these words

And sing out loud

Cause everyone is forgiven now

Cause tonight's the night the world begins again

I wish everyone was loved tonight

And somehow stop this endless fight

Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days

So take these words

And sing out loud

Cause everyone is forgiven now

Cause tonight's the night the world begins again

Cause tonight's the night the world begins again

~ Johnny Rzeznik/The Goo Goo Dolls

*Not a personal wish for better days, mine are pretty good and I am truly blessed. More of a wish for better days for all of us.

I'm off on another 365 days around the sun!

So I beat him with the clothes basket

Just yesterday I read about this phenomenon, here. Karly is funny - you'll be glad you clicked on that link.

This evening, right after supper, I took the towels out of the dryer. I folded them and placed them on the washer to put away later because both bathrooms were occupied at the time. Soon after, I saw the Postman walk by with a pile of clothes.

Just a few minutes ago, I went to the laundry room to look for something else and saw my neat pile of folded towels a heap of what used to be perfectly folded, crisp clean towels. In his eagerness to put his clothes in the washer (ALL of them. Not sorted.), he just pushed aside the pile of towels I folded.

Me: Did you seriously just push the towels aside rather than carry them to the bathroom?

Him: They weren't ours, were they?

Me: Seriously?

And for any of you that dare say I should be happy he put his clothes in the washer, I will also beat you with the clothes basket.

My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint. ~Erma Bombeck

1910

My grandmother turns 98 years old today.

98 freakin' years old.

She was alive for WWI. How crazy is that?

One of my grandmother's favorite stories was about where she was when she found out President Kennedy had been shot. She was on an escalator (although I am not sure where), and was so stunned that she forgot to step off and got her heel caught.

My grandparents retired fairly young, and moved from New Jersey to Virginia. They had an active retirement filled with much traveling, golf (my grandfather) and tennis (my grandmother). I spent two weeks with them every summer and remember how grown up I felt being allowed to hang out at the pool at the country club while they played their respective sports. Even better was getting dressed up to go to dinner at "the club".

We celebrated her 85th birthday at the country club, but by then she had all but given up tennis. They were still members, but mostly it was just a place for them to be social and visit with friends rather than be physically active.

I would like to say that my grandmother has her wits about her, but the truth is, she does not. She would not know me if I walked in today - in fact, she might ask one of her nurses who the new girl is. She is comfortable and cared for. She gets her hair done and her nails done. Hopefully, in some part of her brain, she has memories of her travels, her cocktail parties, and her friends and family.

Happy birthday, Gram!

Soon I will be an old, white-haired lady, into whose lap someone places a baby, saying, "Smile, Grandma!" - I, who myself so recently was photographed on my grandmother's lap. ~Liv Ullmann

Ms. Fix-It

The other night we had a mishap with the space heater.

Because the Postman loves me so much, he bought me a space heater to put by my desk because I am always bitching about being cold.

When I turned it off the other night, I apparently didn't turn it off completely. (I think it malfunctioned and now I'm scared of it.) After a few minutes the smoke alarm near my desk started going off. We quickly figured out the problem and as the Postman went to work on turning the heater completely off, I yanked the smoke alarm off the wall since the kids were already in bed and there was no imminent danger. Being the diligent human/parent that I am, I put the alarm on the bureau in our bedroom. Just until the next morning.

Except that the next morning? I was too lazy to pull out the step stool and climb up there to put the smoke alarm back on the wall.

So when I heard it beeping, I obligingly got the step stool pulled the battery out of it.

When it continued beeping (apparently some sort of signal that it is not currently hard wired since I'm holding it in my hand), I shoved it under a pile of clothes in the Postman's closet.

At least the ones in the kitchen and near the kid's bedrooms are on the wall and working. I think. I would have to get the step stool to check.

What is right is often forgotten by what is convenient. ~Bodie Thoene, Warsaw Requiem

I've been waiting for this

A co-worker had us laughing with a story about her 4 year old asking was E.D. is. You know...from the Viagra commercials? At the time, I had wondered why my kids had never asked.

It finally happened. And I was ready.

The Captain, while watching tv yesterday: "Mom, what is an erection?"

Me: "Postman! Come in here, the Captain has a question for you!"

I am nothing if not prepared.

Sex is God's joke on human beings. ~Bette Davis

Catching up

Well, as I think I mentioned in my last brief post, the Postman's father is home. Too much happened to try to recap it all here but here are some high (or low) lights:

- Spent 4 days in ICU
- Spent 6 days in Respiratory SCU
- Spent 2 days in a regular room on the respiratory floor
- Doctors don't know what was wrong. They gave him a broad spectrum antibiotic that seemed to be working. He felt better and the congestion in his lungs was breaking up.
- Right before they moved him to the regular room they said although he FELT better, he wasn't GETTING better. Um, what? Based on CT scan comparisons and bronchoscopy comparisons, there was no actual change in his lungs.
- 2 days later they sent him home - not knowing what was causing the breathing difficulty (beyond his already known COPD), and after stating he wasn't getting better.

So that's kind of where we are. He's home, and although he feels better, he has to follow up with a respiratory specialist closer to home to try and track this and at least keep him status quo if not improved.

On a happier note, the Diva competed in a Dressage competition today and placed 2nd in one category and 3rd in the other category she was in. This was the first time she competed in Dressage, so it was quite an accomplishment!

I am looking forward to a quieter week - no driving 90 miles to the hospital. I can catch up on my work, my housework, and time with the Postman and the kids.

Hope you all are enjoying your weekend!

The essential joy of being with horses is that it brings us in contact with the rare elements of grace, beauty, spirit, and fire. ~Sharon Ralls Lemon

Hi! Here I am!

It's been a long couple of weeks.

P-Man's dad just came home from the hospital yesterday afternoon. Everyone is exhausted, but relieved he is home.

More on everything later this weekend, hopefully!

There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort. ~Jane Austen

These five words in my head...

Scream, are we having fun yet?*

I am exhausted. Worked in the office and drove home in bad weather.

No real update on P-Man's father. They started a broad spectrum antibiotic yesterday and he seems to be doing better today so that is really good news. They may move his care down a level in the next 24 hours. He would be out of ICU, in a private room, with his own dedicated nurse still. One thing that bothers me is that they still don't know what they are treating. The antibiotic seems like it might be working - but working on WHAT? How do they know they treated it completely? How do they know for sure it's gone? How do they know he won't relapse? I hate the unknown. As thankful as I am that he's feeling better, I am still asking for answers.

This has all just really wiped me out. I had a mini meltdown last night, complete with tears, mostly because I am tired. I am trying so hard to keep everything flowing smoothly - keeping our house running as normally as possible, doing my part to take care of P-Man's mom, and keeping things on an even keel for him.

I am counting down the minutes to 9:00 so I can tuck the kids in and then head to bed myself!

Sleeping is no mean art: for its sake one must stay awake all day. ~Friedrich Nietzsche

*Thanks, Nickelback!

I am SO not as cool as I thought as was

How is it that the Postman's mother - and even worse, my mother! - are hipper than I am?

My daughter and I watch Dancing With the Stars. I know it's a bit on the cheesy side, so I refer to it as one of my guilty pleasures. On the other hand, it is nice to be interested in the same show as my daughter. I can only take so much of Hannah Montana before my brain seizes up. So this dancing show we watch together. My mother, and P's mom watch it also.

Yesterday, during our 90 mile (one way) car ride, P's mom and I were talking about the show as the new season started last night. She was the first to tell me that Julianne, an adorable dancer on the show (and my favorite!), has released a song with a whole album to follow soon. How did I not know this? I proclaim to be a huge music lover, yet this little tidbit escaped me.

To make matters worse...I spoke with my mother last night and she gave me the same information. Um, what? My mother doesn't even listen to music all that much. How on earth did she know this before I did? I am such a loser.

We're fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance. ~Japanese Proverb

And I just really can't think of a title right now...

I missed St. Paddy's Day. It really blew right by and I didn't even realize it until last night when my son told me the Leprechauns were due to visit. Yeah...a few years back, I had the BRILLIANT idea to have the Leprechauns bring them some token trinkets. We're not even Irish, so I don't know what the hell I was thinking and now I have to come up with some trinkets at 9:00PM. Luckily I had a few things stashed away for the Easter Baskets, so I used those.


The reason I am so scatter brained is because the Postman's father is in the hospital again. After being home for roughly 48 hours, we went screaming back on Sunday morning because his oxygen had dropped so low. The decision was made to transfer him to a much bigger (and thus better?) medical facility about 90 miles from here. He went Sunday night by ambulance (sirens and everything!). Each of us kids is now taking a day and driving his mom to that facility. My day was yesterday, so in all the hubbub I just forgot about the green holiday.

It's very frustrating, this medical situation. So far they can tell us what is NOT wrong. 90% chance it is not cancer. It is not pneumonia. It is not a blood clot. Dude can't breathe though. Literally...sitting up to eat dropped his oxygen so much and he got so exhausted from just the effort of bringing the food to his mouth and chewing that they took away the solids and started making him milkshakes with protein powder in them for extra calories. Was that a run on sentence right there? He is in ICU, so he is obviously being monitored very well. That is reassuring for the Postman's mom...and the rest of us, too.

Hopefully we'll get some more news soon.

Caring is the essence of nursing. ~Jean Watson

Saving on electricity

At dinner tonight, the Postman noticed the Diva's bedroom light was on. We are trying to instill a "turn off all things unnecessary" rule in our house but it is definitely an uphill battle for us. The Diva will head to her bathroom from the living room...and turn on the kitchen light as she passes through...then the hallway light...then her bedroom light...and finally the actual bathroom light. Yes, she will turn on all those lights just to pass through those areas.

So when he noticed the light on, he asked her to get up and go turn it off. I asked if her brother's light was also on (since she was already up), and at that my son's friend, Mas, says "No, I turned it off when we left his room. At our house, we turn off all the lights when we leave a room."

Me: "How on earth did your mom and step-dad accomplish that?"

Mas: "Hmmm...well, they beat us."

Postman: "Sweet. We can do that."

I expect our electric bill will be SIGNIFICANTLY lower next month.

Who is more foolish, the child afraid of the dark or the man afraid of the light? ~Maurice Freehill

The one where I had a whole afternoon to myself!

The Diva has been at the barn since 8:30 this morning, the Postman worked, and the Captain has a friend over.

Do you all know what this means? Barring the occasional chore (like switching the laundry over, or stirring the meatball sauce), I have been doing nothing but surfing blogs this afternoon. ALL afternoon.

And I found some cool stuff! Like that nifty Tax Relief Swap button over there at the top right of the page. I think I linked there from here but I am not sure. Like I said, ALL afternoon. Many links. Many blogs.

Anyway, give it a click! It seems like a lot of fun. More than the anticipation of receiving something in the mail, I LOVE the idea of coming up with a little care package to send off!

Happy Saturday!

Weekends don't count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless. ~Bill Watterson

My biggest problem today

Yeah. So.

I got my hair cut. Like 3 inches or so...not a huge difference. But still. This morning my hair was below my shoulders, and now it is swinging just above my shoulders. Not drastic, but noticeable, dammit!

Unless you live in my house.

I bet if dinner didn't make it on the table they'd notice THAT.

Or if laundry didn't get done for 3 or 4 days - THAT would be noticed.

Or if I didn't have cash in my wallet. THAT would definitely be noticed.

Jackasses. All of 'em.

How can I control my life when I can't control my hair? ~Author Unknown

School rules

So the Diva cam home from school early yesterday with a headache and a tummy ache. She actually gets quite a few headaches for a 12 year old and we're working on figuring out why.

Our school has a rule prohibiting drugs of any kind. That includes Ty*lenol and Ibuprofen. If a child needs Ty*lenol or Ibuprofen or even their inhaler, they must call their parents/guardian to come administer the stuff. I found out there's a way around this, which is nice for children with chronic conditions or those that must take medication during the day (Rit*alin, for example). Their parent/guardian fills out paperwork describing the specifics of the medication, purpose, dose, etc. The school nurse then faxes this info to the child's doctor and IF THE DOCTOR SAYS IT'S OK, the nurse keeps the medication in her office and the child goes to her to have their medication administered. So, if I want my daughter to have an Ibuprofen, without me delivering it to her, that's the route I have to take.

Seems like a bit much for an Ad*vil, no?

Usually the Diva calls me and I dutifully deliver the Ibuprofen to her. She knows about trying to self soothe before leaping for the drugs...hydrate, rest (if possible), quiet (if possible). At school it can be hard to accomplish this so more often than not, I will bring her an ibuprofen.

As I may have mentioned, I work from home for a hospital that's about 2 hours away. I used to drive there two to three times per month, but that has substantially decreased lately. Because I could not bring her medication if she needed it on those days, I gave her a tiny pill bottle to put in her book bag with TWO otc strength ibuprofen in it, just in case she needed it. When I did this, I knew I was making a mistake. No, not that I was giving it to her...but that the pill bottle I chose to use was a little Ty*lenol bottle. With ibuprofen in it. In my defense, I figured it was better than an apothecary style medicine bottle with NO label on it. Doesn't matter now...turns out the Diva would have gotten in trouble either way.

When she called me to tell me she didn't feel well, she was near tears. It turns out, for whatever reason, instead of calling me yesterday she decided to take one of the ibuprofen that she had in her bag. When she didn't feel better after an hour, she decided she wanted to come home. She went to the office to call me and they instructed her that she needed to see the nurse before she could call home. While with the nurse, it came up that the Diva had already taken an ibuprofen. It seems that having contraband ibuprofen is on the same level as having a dime bag. The nurse went up one side of my daughter and down the other, and there was even mention of the fact that my daughter could be suspended for this infraction.

WTF???

I haven't yet decided how I'm going to handle this. I understand rules are rules. But seriously, does anyone else think the nurse went just a little too far with this? I really would appreciate feedback on this one folks, because I am stuck somewhere between understanding policy and indignation at how my child was treated.

I don't know. I never smoked AstroTurf. ~Tug McGraw, when asked if he preferred grass or artificial turf, 1974

Ike Turner shops at Sam's and other stories

The other day was our bi-weekly Sam's excursion. While we were waiting our turn to check out, we (and everyone else within 3 lanes of us) witnessed the guy in the next lane over from us picking up a bag of Ghiradelli chocolate chips from his cart and yelling at his wife "What the hell is this?!". She mumbled something that apparently was halfway acceptable and he threw the bag on the conveyor belt. He kept muttering, though, and his wife and two children (yeah...not bad enough he treats her like that at all...but in front of their children and in public. He's a prize.)walked away toward the exit to wait for him there I guess. He then asked the cashier how much they were, and although I didn't hear her answer he says to her "Jesus Christ - I'm paying that much for her ass to get even fatter?". I told the Postman if he EVER talked to me or about me that way I'd be gone so quick he wouldn't even see my dust. Jackass. Why, why, why do people stay in relationships like that? It's sad.

Shifting gears: The Diva had an orthodontist appointment this past week. She's already had one round of orthodontia, now we're looking at about 2 more years. On the window sill of the room we were in, there were several models of braces that are available. The technician picked up the invisible ones (the kind worn on the inside of the teeth) and said "Miley Cyrus wears these - they are the Cadillac of braces." The Postman said I should have asked her to show us the Yugo model next since that was most likely the one we would go with. He always comes up with the good responses.

Shift again: The Captain has developed a new talent. He can imitate people. Well, cartoon characters and one human. But still...impressive for 9! The best part is he does them really, really well. It's kind of cool.

Shift: One of the fundrasiers for the Diva's class trip was tonight - a spaghetti supper. I've been dreading it all week. An evening with the Stepfords. I even dreamed about it last night. I dreamed all the Stepfords showed up in pink ballgowns and tiaras. I was pissed off at first that I didn't know that was expected...then I realized it was fine because the patrons would easily be able to tell the normal people from the Stepfords - as though it wasn't already painfully obvious. Thank goddess my friend J and her daughter were on set up duty with me and the Diva! We kept each other grounded.

Lastly, and most importantly: The Postman's father is back in the hospital. They are doing a lung biopsy tomorrow. One doctor thinks, based on a CT scan, that it is lung cancer. The other doctor involved thinks it is just an infection or bacteria. In addition to the biopsy, they are going to scrape some mucus out (I know - gross!) to culture so they can definitively say it is one or the other. Please do whatever you do (pray, good thoughts, positive energy sent our way, etc.) tomorrow for us. I, and our family, would appreciate it!

Bad is never good until worse happens. ~Danish Proverb

From away

Mainers have this quirky little way about them. They distrust nearly everyone, especially if you are From Away.

From Away means exactly what you think it would. You are not from here. Being that Maine's motto is Vacationland, we have more than a few visitors and tourists roaming our beaches and snow mobile trails each year. From Away is used to describe them.

However, it has also come to be a label for anyone who moves into a town from anywhere else. I, for example, have lived in Maine since I was two years old. Although I did move away for about three months in my early twenties, the rest of my life has been here. I have lived in a few towns on the southern coast, and kept the same circle of friends and the same job regardless of the town I lived in. Perhaps that's why being From Away never seemed to pertain to me. Oh, I had heard about it, and read about it, and maybe even thought it myself as I weaved around twenty out of state plates on my way to work each morning, but I never really experienced it first hand.

This last move I made was the farthest I have ever moved, and the first move I made with both kids in school. We moved form the southern coast to the central farm part of the state. In our former community, I was semi-involved in their schools - volunteering for field trips and providing snacks for parties. I was able to attend most special events, but working a 40 hour office job didn't allow for much more than that. I wanted to do more but couldn't.

With this move came the opportunity to work from home and a decrease in hours. I am able to contribute more in my children's classrooms, and I am able to help out with various fund raising projects that I couldn't before.

As I have written about here, I am part of a committee responsible for planning a 6th grade end of year trip. Our group has gone from an original 11 members, to a die hard 4 or 5. I am not surprised at all with the diminishing numbers, that tends to happen in every group. What I am surprised about is how the 4 other members (none of whom are From Away), make it perfectly clear that I am not an accepted part of the group. Regardless of how many ideas I bring to the table, how much I say "I'll do it", or how much I help. I've come to realize though, that this happens in almost every group setting. Whoever doesn't fall into what is accepted as the norm of the group is marked as an outsider.

Mainers have just labeled it - but not correctly. I mean, really, how many people are raised and live in the same town their whole lives? So nearly everyone is potentially From Away. But it's easier and more acceptable to say that a person isn't trusted because they are From Away (we don't know them yet) rather than because they are loud, or fat, or gay, or single, or another race. So groups such as the committee I'm involved with struggle along with only a handful of members because for a lot of people, it is not worth the hassle of remaining just to be made to feel inferior.

It took being "From Away" for me to realize that it has nothing to do with that at all.

Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference. ~Winston Churchill