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Archive for the ‘Fear’ Category

17 Dec

Here. This:

Posted by freshhell in depression, Fear, love. 9 comments

I was unable to sleep last night. I’ve had to step away from the news, the politicizing, the anger, the bs that seems to have overtaken social media. My tolerance for such things has whittled down to nil. The president’s speech – which was a surprise, because I live in a cave of frustration and straw grasping – last night made me all the more grateful that he is our chief executive. He made me cry. And he asked, Why are we here. In my restlessness, I wrote something I won’t call a poem because of all the things I am, a poet is most assuredly not one of them. I wrote….a reminder. It’s not a work of art, by any means, but it’s all I’ve got today.

Here. This:

Why are we here, he said.
Wrong question, maybe.
We didn’t ask to be born.

But, here. this:
Here is a sunrise for you. See how the light winks between the bare branches of the trees across the way.
Here is a sunset. Notice the rainbow of colors like an amazing, blazing jello salad in the sky.
Here is a shooting star that arcs across a midnight canopy.
Here is a line of ants marching under a door seeking the crumb that fell from her breakfast before she left for school.
Here is a heron who breathes a ghost’s breath and then propels itself across that rippling lake.
Here is a tomato that ripens and is then stolen by a squirrel who’s been sitting on the branch waiting for the right moment to pounce.

Here is a heart. Breaking.
Here is a man, throat aching, reading their names in no particular order.
Tomorrow’s clothes are folded in the dresser drawers.
Tomorrow’s shoes are still in the middle of the floor.
The morning’s toothpaste hardens on the sink.
A cat sleeps on pajamas, which still smell of dreams, that were flung off in anticipation of another wondrous day.

We did not ask to be born.
We can merely revel in beauty where we find it.
We can only hope that there’s more good than bad.

Here is a fog that blows its morning breath across the pastures and gets tangled up in the trees.
Here is a bee landing on a sunflower, harvesting the pollen, because that is what it does.

Here. This:
A hand. A heart – the one he said we carry outside our body and expose to sorrow almost hourly, it seems. A hug. A smile.
Here is all we have.

5 Jul

Under the Spreading Walnut Tree

Posted by freshhell in Dusty, Fear, gardening, movies, nature, pie!, storm damage, summer. 7 comments

Lemme see. We started the weekend off with a walnut tree. We ended it with the tree asserting its independence by falling over and killing itself.

Here it is:

It’s nothing if not dramatic.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

On Saturday, I took the cats (in the form of Red and Dusty) to the grocery store and they managed to push and pull the cart in a way that obstructed every person pushing every cart in every aisle. Why a straight line is so difficult, I do not know but it is. Why Dusty can’t just leave the cart where it is so that I don’t turn around and drop whatever’s in my hand to the floor, I can’t begin to figure out. But, the cart has wings in their hands. It feels the need to move closer to the cookies I refuse to buy. It gets stuck by the 24-pack of cheese sticks. Weirdest thing.

Then, I dumped them and the groceries at home and had a great lunch with my writers group. They allowed me and my novel to take over most of the conversation and helped me figure out what the story’s about, it’s theme, what the protagonist wants. All the important things I knew at some level but hadn’t managed to dredge out of the recesses of my brain. And now, I have a lot of work to do. A lot. But I know where I’m going so it’s all good.

On Sunday, I cleaned and a new wonderful babysitter came so that the grownups could go see the new Woody Allen movie. Which was not only wonderful but gave me even more insight into my novel. The longing for the past and a better, more exciting time in which to live resonated. It was also just a terrific movie. I am so in love with Adrian Brody right now, I can barely…..

Yes. And then a storm came that knocked out the satellite so I missed the second half of Poirot (don’t tell me who did it; I’m hoping to catch a rerun soon on the alternate PBS station). During the night, the second wave of the storm came through and while we never lost power, the sound and ferocity of the wind was frightening. I”m rarely frightened during storms but this sounded like a hurricane, like the end of the world. The rain fell sideways up against the windows so when I pulled back the curtains, I couldn’t see anything. Just grey blobs. As if I’d forgotten to put my glasses on but I had and that was doubly disconcerting. I waited for the house to fall apart. I looked in on Red who was dead to the world. How was she sleeping through this? I listened to things fly through the air for an hour and wondered if I shouldn’t wake everyone up and make them sit in the interior bathroom’s tub. Just in case.

In the morning, we discovered that the tree had fallen. It fell in such a way that nothing was smashed but the electrical pole that carried the wires to the barn. I’d had the electricity cut off to the barn years ago. But, the old lines were snaked across the yard and apparently connected to the neighbor’s barn where they DO need the electricity. Horses get hot in the summer and need fans.

I lost half my sunflowers and all my corn. Flattened by the storm. Luckily, that was the extent of the damage. The power guys came out and ran new lines. They had to drive through the pastures from the neighbor’s side. Our other neighbors came by, after cutting up the trees they’d lost, and offered to saw up ours when we were ready. I hadn’t seen them in ages and we briefly caught up. Her oldest daughter – who babysat for Dusty when we first moved out here – is getting married this month and moving to Japan. Her middle daughter is in Texas working. I offered Dusty’s free equestrian services. She asked if we could feed her cats at the end of the month. We get free use of the pool. Done and done. I like my neighbors. We were fortunate all around.

I took the kids to the annual 4th parade which we ended up skipping in lieu of a trip to the book sale and slurpees and then we took a peach pie (I felt badly about the pie I’d planned to make and decided to make two real peach pies with an oatmeal/honey top instead) to the annual 4th party hosted by Dusty’s BFF’s parents. I drank and laughed with one of Red’s BFF’s moms. In normal circumstances, we would not be friends, having very little in common (she’s married to a sheriff after all) but since our daughters (she has three kids and Red’s friend is her youngest) are cut from the same cloth, we had a lot to talk about. This is the same woman who gave Red a copy of The Muppet Movie for her birthday so perhaps we have more in common than you’d think at first glance. So, I ended up being way more social than usual and having way more fun sitting and gabbing and drinking than I usually do.

So despite some ups and downs, it was much more of a weekend than I’d anticipated. Of course, one doesn’t normally plan for storm damage and toppling trees. Eventually the tree will be gone and a huge mud hole will be left behind. Dusty thought the hole would make a good swimming pool. “We just need some cement,” she said, already planning in her head how things would work. Um, no. No we don’t. We need a truck filled with topsoil is what we’re gonna need. One day. If the stump doesn’t become a permanent fixture.

PS – Dusty has finished her vintage napkin pillows and will hopefully begin sewing her critters this week. Progress, slow progress, is being made on the sewing front.

19 Jun

Endings, Beginnings

Posted by freshhell in cake!, Dusty, family, Fear, Mom, pain and woe, pie!, Red, School. 4 comments

Let’s see. I meant to post yesterday but I ran out of time. I had to pick up Dusty just as the final half day of school was ending to take her for a pre-op doctor’s appt. I’d hoped to time my arrival to miss the busses and the farewells. I get very sad at the end of each school year. School has been such a positive experience for Dusty, and Red had a great year, and Dusty’s rotating off from a wonderful teacher. It’s all very sad, this ending.

So, of course, I arrived as the teachers were waving good bye and the busses were pulling away from the school. And a copious amount of silly string was in evidence. Of course. I started to cry. I had to sit in the car a few minutes so I could pull myself together. Dusty’s teacher was there on the curb and we hugged. She was still red-eyed from reading a book the students had put together for her. They wrote about what her new students needed to know about her and they made her read it out loud. She said she started crying and couldn’t stop and they got very concerned. She said she didn’t think they’d seen many adults cry before. Then, there were Dusty and Red in the office waiting for me, and Dusty’s K-1 teacher was there so more hugs, more tears. I am tearing up just writing about it. I never felt this way about school when I was a kid. I feel fortunate that my kids, so far, are having a much better experience.

I dropped Red off at home and Dusty and I went to the doctor’s. We got her main doctor (who we rarely actually see), the one I picked almost 10 years ago based on the recommendation of a writer acquaintance whose retired doctor husband had sold his business to her. It’s all women pediatricians now. I love them, too. Dusty passed with flying colors. The doctor checked her various parts and mentioned breasts. They weren’t there yet but there was…something under her skin, waiting. That made me sad. Dusty’s childhood is quickly disappearing. Much too quickly.

We stopped off at Tar-get afterwards for this and that and then bought celebratory donuts at Krispy Kreme for everyone. Dusty and I ate ours in the car.

It occured to me the other day that Dusty’s school year began with Lyme disease and ends with a tonsilectomy/adenoidectomy. Let’s hope next year is less fraught with health scares.

This weekend, we chill. Tomorrow we’ll celebrate Father’s Day in the morning, go see ToyStory3, and then celebrate my birthday in the evening so Dusty can eat pie with us. I’ve stocked up on numerous things for her to “eat” during her recovery: Ensure drinks, gatorade, pudding, popsicles, ice cream, stuff for smoothies, creamy peanut butter, gum, baby food, applesauce, juice.

I’m making my packing list for my conference. I wish I could enjoy my single dorm room a little more. But, I’m nervous for Dusty. I know she’ll be fine but it’s easier to know for sure when I’m present. And I won’t be. So, I have to just trust that all will be well. Dusty and I have to be at the hospital at 7am. I’ve been trying to fend off my mother all week who keeps asking when and where as if she’s planning to show up which is the absolute last thing I need. I’ve had to start ignoring her emails because I can’t find a new way to say no. I want to be left alone to read or worry or whatever while Dusty’s operated on and then recovers. I want no interference when I take her home. I don’t want to talk to anyone, least of all my mother who turns every conversation back to her.

Gah. Here are a couple of photos you might enjoy. Below is Red’s birthday cake. Dusty did the cat. Well, I did the outline because that thick icing always malfunctions. I recommended that Dusty keep things simple as I have icing issues but Dusty replied, “I can’t do simple if I’m drawing a cat.” Okay, Dusty, you’re the artist, go crazy! And of course, he still ended up fairly minimalist. The second photo needs no explanation.

20 May

Would U Rather

Posted by freshhell in boys, Fear, movies, Uncategorized. 5 comments

So, I think I might have mentioned that I took four kids to see The Secret of Kells on Sunday. If you get a chance to see this movie – SEE IT. It is possibly the most beautiful movie of all time. It is the story about a boy, Brendan, growing up in a monastery. The Abbott’s main occupation is building a wall around Kells to keep out the Viking invaders. The Book of Kells is a not-finished illuminated masterpiece that is to be worked on by a master illuminator who comes seeking sanctuary. Brendan is supposed to be keeping out of trouble and helping with the wall but he’s drawn to the illuminator and finds himself in deeper and deeper trouble as he tries to find the ingredients for the ink needed. The ink is in a forest he’s not allowed to enter. He also discovers his talent along the way.

If you’ve never seen illuminated drawings come to life, you haven’t lived. That might be a bit of an exaggeration but I found not a single flaw. Hand-drawn animation in a style you don’t see these days (or, I guess you do since this movie exists), a compelling yet familiar tale, a shape-shifting fairy, good and evil, hope. It’s all there. It made me think of Moomintrolls, John Burningham books, and those special books with a mixed-media style of illustration (a la Ezra Jack Keats) for kids that were published in the 1960’s. It’s not rated and we shared the theatre with only two other couples, both my mother’s age.

Anyway, the day after, I was cleaning out my car from the onslaught of lunch eaten by two nine year olds and two six year olds and a back seat full of melting crayons. Dusty and her BFF (who took turns sitting in the backseat with the younger ones) passed notes back and forth on the ride home.

They left those notes in the car and I was…..I don’t know quite what my emotion was. There was more than one, I can tell you. The notes are in no particular order (because I don’t know the order) and are as follows:

“Who do you (heart symbol) more? JB or PS?" [JB was circled]
"What would u say if R asked u to a dance" "I might say yes."
"Would u rather go on a date with C or R? I would go with R." "Yeah me too." "Ha ha to him."
"I will tell u if u tell me 1st." "Kind of R."
"What if R kissed 1 of us?" [Picture of a frowny face saying Ewww.]

SIGH. Seriously, ALREADY? I mean, sure, sure, I was named Kissy Girl in kindergarten (job description: chase boys around the playground and try to kiss them.) by the first grade boys. I didn't ask for the job and probably got it because I was the last girl they'd want to be kissed by (just a hunch). Sure, I had a boyfriend (Paul) in first grade. Sure, I did this kind of thing, too, but that doesn't lessen the blow.

Since I'll be chaperoning the DC trip next month, I'm gonna find out who R is and keep my eye on him. Who is this kid? I would have thought J would have been more up their alley. He's the only kid with deep dark eyes and a full head of hair. What do I know? I'm almost 44 years old. My opinion of the hotness of third-grade boys (ouch, typing that really hurt. In a couple of places.) is irrelevant.

Another nail in the coffin of Dusty's childhood.

If you need me, I'll be over in the corner, weeping into my pinot grigio. Feel free to stop by and make sure the glass never empties. Thanks.

14 May

The F Word

Posted by freshhell in Fear, Uncategorized. 5 comments

I’ve recently had to ban a number of words from Red’s vocabulary. Or I should say, I have attempted. I am attempting. I will attempt…to just place my head in my hands and gently weep at my lame attempts. Red doesn’t give a good god damn what I think of what she says. She says things because she knows she’ll get a reaction, because she knows she’s not supposed to say them. She laughs when I scold her. Either she’s going to grow up a fine and strong woman who doesn’t take bs from anyone or she’s a sociopath. I don’t quite know which yet.

Two of the words I’ve heard with increasing frequency lately are “stupid” and “dumb”. What we’ve come to refer to as the S word and the D word. Her comments and replies to questions are riddled with these words. “Because you’re stupid, that’s why!” “None of your beeswax, dummy!”

Now, I know one measure (by some standards) of a functional, happy family unit is the eating of meals together around the same table. I’m not sure I buy this 100% because different families function well in a variety of ways but we do eat dinner together every night. I’m sure this will change when we find ourselves with teenagers.

Red’s always had a bit of a potty mouth. She’s always gone for the words that give the biggest bang for her buck. She likes the attention she receives – and negative or positive, it’s all the same to her. And lately, it’s all about “stupid” and “dumb”. It’s not so much that I don’t want her to use these words because it’s all a matter of context. A thing, an action can be stupid but let’s avoid telling a person they’re dumb or stupid. (Nevermind that I run up against a myriad of idiotic morons on a daily basis – that’s my business. I’m trying to raise wolv–children here.)

Oh, sure, Red enjoys saying a lot of other colorful, not-appropriate-beyond-these-doors words. You know, the other s word, the gd words, etc. You know, all the things that come out of my potty mouth every so often BY MISTAKE because I’ve earned a reputation as Big City Trash Mouth. And I’d hate to let my fans down.

But, there’s one word that I really can’t stand. Hate more than any of them:

FAIR.

Oooh, it rankles. I’m going to make a wild guess here. I’m going to guess that houses with one child say that word a WHOLE LOT LESS than a house with multiple children. A house with one child is a house where there’s no comparison except to the adults. Maybe peers but that’s taken care of with a “That’s not how we do things in our family.” Why do you get more (fill in the blanks) than me? Because I’m the adult and you’re the child. Because I’m bigger. Because I make the money, pay the bills, say so.

But, when there are two (or more) children, this word is thrown around willy nilly over EVERY GODDAMN THING. How come she got the turtle and I got the snake? How come she got the snake and I got the turtle? How come she got .05 grams more ice cream on her plate then me? How come she gets to take the first bath? How come I have to take the first bath? How come you’re sending me to my room? How come you’re yelling at me to shut up? She started it! How come I’m the one being shipped off to military school?

IT’S NOT FAIR!!!!!

And it’s not just Red saying this. Both children are equally guilty of this and it starts as soon as they wake up and doesn’t cease until they finally pass out in their beds at night (yes – Red spent another night in her bed!). After listening to a ridiculous outburst about why wasn’t I going through her school stuff first and looking at her pictures first and why was there no orange juice in her glass when she’d asked a million times………AAAHHHH!

After all that? I banned the word. “I don’t want to hear that word come out of anyone’s mouth ever again. Do you understand?”

“Why are you always yelling at me and not her? It’s not f–”

“No! The f word is BANNED! Anyone who says that word again gets sent to their room. Forever! Enough! Nothing is ever going to be fair. Life isn’t fair. Do not expect anything to ever be fair, you’ll just be disappointed. Take what you’re given and be happy. Otherwise, I’ll just take it away. Or not give it to you at all. How fair is that?”

I heard it again, mumbled quietly yet still audibly under someone’s breath. Red really doesn’t take me very seriously which is often a mistake because I can be like a snake (as opposed to the turtle). Curled up, lying in wait for that last straw to break and then….WHAM! I strike.

So, while I’m still hearing the word spoken, because it’s so engrained in their psyches, occasionally I’ll now hear, “It’s not…the f word!”

Courtesy of Married To The Sea

7 May

Tears for Fears

Posted by freshhell in Bad Mommy, Damn People!, Dusty, Fear, love, Uncategorized. 14 comments

What makes a normal, happy child fearful? Where do weird, irrational fears come from? Is it just being human? Is it just part of our makeup?

Dusty has spent the last three nights sleeping in our bedroom. For the last three nights, when she’s come in to give me a last hug before going to bed, she’s been agitated and then begins to cry.

First, it was the robber fear. She was hot up in her new bed but didn’t want the windows open for fear robbers would get in. This is very unlikely to happen but is a fear that stems back four years when her preschool friend and the friend’s family was murdered in their home by guys who just sauntered in. And left with a plateful of just-baked cookies. It was New Year’s day and they were expecting guests. The wrong guests showed up.

So, the robber fear is one that makes sense to me.

The night before last, she began babbling about 2012 and that people were saying the world was going to end. Now, this pissed me off. Who the hell has been spreading this utter bullshit around? The movie’s last year’s news. Now, I know kids talk and they hear shit and read drivel and exaggerate and try to scare younger kids with rumors and myths and urban legends but Dusty is a rational minded kid. She should know better than to believe this crap.

I told her that I remember a time – right around the time Elvis died (and he DID) – when kids on the bus were spreading rumors that the world was going to end at, like, 4:15pm the next day. I remember sitting up on my bunk bed, watching my wrist watch, and waiting to see what happened. Guess what happened?

So, we did our best to quell her fears and life went on. I still need to ask her where she heard this.

Last night, she was in tears and babbled on about how she hardly sees her dad and never gets to spend time with him and wants to sleep in our room and….something something. I don’t know. I mean sure, I’m the one that arranges all the day trips, the fun stuff. I’m the one who reads to her at night. But her dad’s always around. He’s present. Perhaps we need to switch off spending time with her at night. Maybe I can convince him to do things with her, just the two of them. I don’t know. I don’t know where this came from all of a sudden.

It’s strange. You think you’re doing okay, you think you know you child. They seem happy and carefree (relatively) and engaged, if slightly naive (again, she’s nine, not nineteen). So, these fears that are bubbling up at the end of the day….are they caused by an unknown stress? Are we doing too much? Some of that “doing” is beyond my control. Is she really just worried about her upcoming surgery and it’s coming out in other ways? Where’s the psychologist? Where’s the book to tell me what to do? Sigh. I’m at a loss.

6 May

Do You Know The Way To Surly Town?

Posted by freshhell in Bad Mommy, Fear, field trips, pain and woe, Red, School, school lunches, Uncategorized. 1 comment

Let’s see. Yesterday I worked from home (it was ALMOST a Car-Free Wednesday) and even though I was at the computer all day, it still felt like I was out of town or something. Maybe because half my bookmarked sites are on my work computer and my old laptop hates Pandora. It bogs everything down and the laptop seems to take a snooze. Open a document? Go ahead and click it but you might want to go out and turn on another soaker hose in the garden. I’ll get around to it when I feel like it. Also, the printer isn’t really working anymore. It doesn’t like paper. Which is a problem. So, no internet music for me at home. I was too lazy to turn on the cd player and then search for a cd.

Sigh. Appliance/Technology Conspiracy strikes again.

I did, though, get to eat lunch with Red yesterday. She was suffering from unhappy bowels yesterday – a lingering side effect to her minor stomach ailment on Saturday, I suppose – and was a little down and too quiet. She ate only her apples and two grapes for lunch. But, I know gastrointestinal problems much too intimately so I didn’t say anything about the untouched hummus sandwich. If you don’t learn to read your body’s signals, you’ll suffer. Why eat when your body says, “Eh, maybe not a good idea.”?

I got to meet her friends – the highlight of the visit. I knew L1 a bit because Red has spent the night at her house. And I knew W very well because she’s the younger sister of Dusty’s BFF. But, I hadn’t met L2 before and man, that kid was something else! Full of bs stories and wise cracks. Cute freckles on her nose. I can see why Red likes her. They are two wacky peas in a pod. Put W, L2 and Red together and watch out.

Red asked me to escort her to the bathroom at one point and when we returned, L2 and W tried their best to make me take them to the bathroom. They really, really, really had to go most desperately!! I’m not sure what the rules are about kids leaving the lunchroom and with only lunch monitors there – the teachers are lucky enough to eat elsewhere – I didn’t feel like there was anyone to ask. Plus, I knew these two were just trying to get away with something. They didn’t really need to go. Plus, by that point there was just five minutes left of lunch and they have a bathroom in their classroom so if they were that much in need of a pee, it could wait until they went back. Nutty kids.

Then, back home to send fifty million emails to attendees of the conference I’m going to next month to drum up volunteers to act as either room monitors or registration table manners. That took a lot longer than I’d thought.

I did get most of the vegetable garden watered, though. The benefits of being home during the day. I would hook the hose up to one soaker hose, let ‘er rip, and come back an hour later to hook up another one. Over and over. Because apparently it’s never going to rain again.

Once the kids were home, it was The Night To Make Teacher Gifts. This is teacher appreciation week and Thursday has been designated Bring Your Teacher a Gift day. (Wednesday was flowers for teacher day so I cut some irises for them to bring to school – Red said hers were the tallest flowers out of all that her teacher received. Which I think was a good thing.)

Red got totally involved in making bottle cap magnets. She didn’t want to stop when it was bath time and she got right back to it after she was bathed. She made about twelve (I picked the best six for Miss McC) and every single one of them had one, if not two, googly eye(s) in it. Surrounded by massive amounts of glitter glue, the occasional bead or “gem”, or a rainbow pom pom. Who would like a limited-issue Red-made bottle cap magnet?

Dusty, who didn’t feel like getting out the sewing machine, made her teacher a bracelet. We found a box for it and she wrapped it. Red’s magnets had to dry first and I needed to glue on the actual magnets to the caps so they weren’t packaged until this morning. She was in a surly mood (though it appears her GI tract had rectified itself overnight – thank god) this morning and it took three tries to get a note written to go with her gift. Your basic “To Miss McC. From Red” took way too much time and much too much cajoling.

But, I do sincerely hope Red’s body behaves itself today because her class has a field trip today to a local park/nature center. They’ll be outside all day. Sure, there’s a bathroom. You can’t take almost 60 kindergarteners (all the K’s are going) anywhere without a bathroom. Hell, you can’t take a busload of forty-year-olds anywhere without one either. Speaking of which…..

Okay, I’m back. I have much work to do today and many errands to run this afternoon and a conference call (to follow up yesterday’s conference call) at 3:30 about the research conference that I’m now nervous about going to because I feel like a shitty parent to leave Dusty recovering from surgery while I galavant and network in Philly. Oh, sure, her dad will be taking very good care of her and if something goes wrong, I can just come home early, no big deal. But, I’m wishing things didn’t have to be this way.

8 Jan

Flying the Coop

Posted by freshhell in Dusty, Fear, Red. 8 comments

Well, I knew this day would come but I really didn’t think it would happen this soon. Parenthood is full of surprises, even when you can see clear to the end of the tunnel. But, here we are. Preparing for BOTH children to go to a sleepover party.

This will be Red’s first sleepover. And, really, her first night away from home, apart from us going, as a family, to the beach each summer. Dusty didn’t sleep over at friends’ houses until first grade but then again, she went alone.

Tomorrow is Red’s friend, W’s, birthday party. W is the sister of Dusty’s BFF. They are both going because whenever BFF is invited over, W is too. And vice versa. W and Red have known each other since preschool. Which is where Dusty and BFF met. Now they are in the same classes together at school. Nice, huh?

So, apparently W has had to spend the last couple years being left out of sleepovers because BFF and their oldest sister, C, share the same birthday (are you confused yet?) and have a dual sleepover party. W was promised a sleepover when she got to kindergarten. And, well, now she is. When BFF came over to play one day during Christmas break, her dad explained it to us and he sounded….a little sorry that they hadn’t said “first grade.” Oh well. That’s another one of those lessons you learn the hard way. Why it took them three kids to figure it out, I don’t know.

Well, I do. You just get beaten down by it all and eventually give up. Sure! You can have whatever you want! Elephants? Fire eaters? Sleepover? No problem.

So, now they are both leaving tomorrow at 3pm and not coming home until 10am on Sunday (or rather, I’ll be dropping them off and then picking them up). This leaves the grownups with a lot of time on our hands. What will we do? Well, one thing we’re going to do is see a movie without having to arrange for a babysitter. Bonus. But, as much as I might bitch about how noisy and chaotic the house is when they’re around, it’s going to be very strange without them. Especially Red. We’ve managed without Dusty before but never Red.

And, I probably wouldn’t have let her go if Dusty hadn’t been going too. Red is a kid who hasn’t slept all night in her bed in a coon’s age (apart from the night she was sick and the night after the Nutcracker). She is a child who steadfastly refuses to brush her own teeth. She doesn’t fall for tricks or bribes or threats. And, if I hadn’t already spent thousands fixing those same teeth, I might just let them rot in her head until she wised up. Red is a super picky eater. She is not always polite, does not like to share. But, from what I hear, W is very similar. But, with Dusty there, she can shepherd Red, help her with her teeth, help her roll out her BRAND NEW sleeping bag, remind her not to eat too much candy. With Dusty there, Red might not prowl through the house at night searching for a bed to sleep in that is not her own.

I will be ready for the possible phone call saying she’s changed her mind. But, I’m also thinking that won’t happen. Because Dusty will be there. They’re familiar with the house (Red’s been there for 4th of July parties in the past). Everything will be fine.

Everything WILL BE FINE. (deep, cleansing breath….)

23 Sep

Vindication and Representation

Posted by freshhell in Dusty, Fear, Red, School, Washington DC. 11 comments

Well…..that was an interesting evening, I must say. Good interesting and bad interesting.

Within minutes of arriving home, I am informed that the pediatrician left a message on our phone to call her. ASAP. Oh dear. That can’t in any way be good. My husband attempted to but the office was closed. Before I’d sat down to dinner, the phone rang. It was the doctor. She would not rest until she’d reached us. The blood tests showed very positive results for Lyme disease. She needed to know where to call in the prescription for the high-test antibiotic that Dusty will have to ingest twice a day for 28 days. Twenty-eight.

While I was not happy to hear this, I felt vindicated. Perhaps you remember (and it doesn’t matter if you don’t; you’ve got your own lives to worry about) back in June, near the end of the school year, Dusty had a bizarre fever and then broke out into welts/spots, etc. Lyme disease, given the mountain loads of ticks just outside our door, was the first thing I thought of. My husband thought I was nuts. How could that be, he asked. Have you noticed where we live, I asked back? But no blood work was done then. The doctor decided it was hives because the spots did not have the classic target look to them that automatically says “Lyme”.

She got better, life went on, until her knee began to hurt. In the interim, the doctor had been educating herself about the disease and was concerned that the knee pain wasn’t preceded by any known trauma.

Glad I finally took her for blood work. My only regret is that I didn’t do it sooner. But, I will admit that it was a great feeling to know that my instinct had been right all along. Perhaps next time, someone will listen to me. It would have been nice to have discovered this back in June. The doctor mentioned the word “cardiologist” in our conversation, which I really didn’t need to hear. I guess we’ll revisit that after the round of meds is over.

Anyway, we then ate and went to the school for Back to School night. There was a short assembly beforehand where the school’s new anti-bully program was unveiled with a skit put on by 8 brave 5th graders. I could have used such a program when I was a kid. Might have made middle school a bit more pleasant though I doubt it would have made any difference considering the level of losers I attended school with. Kids who’d been checked out since first grade. Kids who did drugs and carried knives and were absent more than they were present. Sigh. It was good to hear, though, that the kids were being encouraged to speak out about bullying behavior. Back in my day, they’d have called that snitching, tattling.

We then proceeded to Red’s classroom and her teacher explained the daily routine, the way they’ll be learning how to read and write and add. There was a stack of papers on Red’s desk including a cute Humpty Dumpty she made and a “monster book” she drew. It was shaped like a monster and inside she’d glued pictures of things that started with M. She and her friends went straight over to the box of plastic links and made long chains while Miss M spoke.

Then, we went to Dusty’s class where we discovered that all of the other parents had already been. So, we got a private session with Mrs. J. She was able to give us much more information about what Dusty would be learning with the class and in her G&T sessions. They will be doing a unit soon on ancient Greece and Rome, something Dusty is really looking forward to. I know for certain I never learned anything about those cultures until 6th grade. My Aphrodite paper got an F because I wrote it in red ink.

So, yeah, our educational experiences have been quite different. It makes me more thankful each year that Dusty’s getting such a hugely better education than I got. So grateful.

They will have three field trips this year. Next week they go to the math and science center for the day for a progam about robotics. Which sounds cool. I wish I could go. Then in October they are going…..damn, I can’t remember. In the spring, they go to DC and do a “monument walk” but don’t go into any of the museums. Why, I don’t know, because they’re free. But, it makes me glad I took Dusty last spring because otherwise she’d still have never seen the inside of a Smithsonian museum. I was invited to attend and as tempting as it sounds, I’m not sure I can stand to ride on a Greyhound with 20 3rd graders to DC and back. There was a reason I didn’t become a teacher.

Dusty’s BFF and her family stopped back in the classroom as we were leaving and Mrs. J took the opportunity to let them know that they’d been voted to be the class representatives for the SGA this year. They were sworn to secrecy; Mrs. J would announce the news in the morning. So, now Dusty is a Class Representative. The duties of such an honor are a little vague but now I’m related to an elected official. How ’bout them apples?

27 Jul

Bottom

Posted by freshhell in depression, family, Fear, movies, summer. 9 comments

Well, for various reasons, I’ve kinda hit bottom here. Things which I don’t feel comfortable discussing in this forum but which are forcing my hand in ways that…well, the path my future is taking is one I’d suspected all along. Now, it’s simply a matter of biding my time and shoring up the leaks.

On Saturday, we leave for the beach. Will my car make it there and back? It’s been far from reliable lately and after a battery replacement on Wednesday that required having the whole system electroshocked so that it didn’t keep stalling out on me, I just do not trust it anymore. It adds to my frustration and anxiety. I do not like that feeling.

God, I sat down at my desk to pay the bills this morning and discovered that I only had one check left in my wallet. D’oh. Guess only the mortgage will get mailed today. The water guy, the electricity coop, they’ll have to wait until tomorrow.

This past weekend, I took the girls and Dusty’s BFF to see G-Force. Blah. Stupid. I popped popcorn for everyone and smuggled it in, along with bottles of water. BFF bought gummy worms which, fortunately, I did not have to eat. They, of course, loved the movie, glossing over the bizarre and ridiculous premise and plot, the unnecessary who-do-you-like-me-or-him pseudo subplot, and focusing their attention on the chase scenes. Oh, and the cute mice at the pet shop. YAAAAAWWWWN. Next month we’re seeing HPVI. I’m pretty sure that will be a much better use of my money.

After the movie, we went to a small ice cream shop and bought them ice cream cones. Then, home again.

So, this week, apart from the internal agony I seem to carry with me every moment of every day, I will be getting ready for the beach trip, trying to iron out details for the last few weeks of summer, schedule-wise (my husband just got a better teaching position which means he’ll have to go into the city five days a week now), re-schedule Red’s cavity filling appt, and try to stay calm. Just a few more days and I’ll be on a beach watching the kids play in the waves. Right now, that’s as far forward as I wish to look.

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