Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

You know what happens if you wait all day to write a post because you’ve been fighting a full-body blerg headache AND running errands with the family AND writing over at Colorado Bento AND parenting over-tired cranky-pants sweet little boys?

You get a NaBloPoMo filler post that you begin at 8 pm. With a story.

Gin and tonics are summer drinks. Period. We keep the gin in the freezer in the summer, limes in the crisper, and tonic water in the pantry from May to October…essentially planting to harvest. It’s also our backup “oh Sweet Baby Jesus you gotta be kidding me” beverage of choice when it comes to what the boys are doing at any particular time.

A working on Legos at the kitchen table, J watching a video in the family room ten feet away.

A: “J!! Turn it down, I can’t concentrate!!!!”

J: “What????”

Me: “J, turn it down. A, get your headphones, you won’t hear anything.” He gets them, puts them on, can’t hear anything.

A: whistle, whistle, whistle…

J: “A!!!!! Shut up, I can’t hear the video!!!”

No, doesn’t translate well to print, but at that point Tom and I curled up in the corner and whimpered. And then I made “wave the tonic over the glass” gin and tonics. In November.

(Hey, what did you want? I did say this was a filler post!)

Ah, nuttin like a little Dear Friday Fragments to clear the mind, air out the rooms, prepare for the weekend.

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Dear Cub Scout Den Leader,

Your communication skills are, how do you say? Craptastic. They resemble my sucky vacuum that doesn’t. On your very first list of Important Dates, there was a Pack meeting last night. Apparently I didn’t get the memo of the change and my scout and hubby hauled ass to get to an empty school. Perhaps you could work on this? I’d bring it up in person, but I just can’t take on the den right now, nor have any desire to do so. Just get your poop in a group and do your job. OH! And perhaps recognizing the scouts at Pack meetings instead of just handing them their awards at the curb would be nice too.

Searching for an appropriate calendar,

A Scout’s Mom

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Dear Body,

You and me, we gotta work on our communication. I do not appreciate this 20% over my driver’s license weight. You do not appreciate yesterday’s yoga class. Suck it up, Buttercup, mama’s sick of feeling fat.

Apparently muffin tops aren’t just for breakfast anymore,

Porky

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Dear Wee Widdle Brudder,

I know you’re not so little anymore. You turned 33 this week, you’re married, you’re in the military, and you top me by a good four inches. But I’m gonna whallop you if I don’t hear from you soon. Did you get the first box I sent umpteen weeks ago? Will you let me know when you get the one I sent this week? Did you get the video email the boys sent for your birthday? Could I please have gift ideas for your stunning wife? Could you please answer the several emails I’ve sent? I can’t call you, for I don’t have your number in Germany. Hard to reach me, since you use a calling card and it comes up on the Caller ID as “unknown” and I don’t answer those. I know you’re on the computer all day doing whatever the hell it is you do, but dude, answer your damned emails. I know you read here, maybe you’ll get the hint.

Working on smoke signals to be seen in Germany from Colorado,

Your Big Sis

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Dear extended family on Tom’s side that we’re visiting for Thanksgiving,

This will come across as crabby and spoiled and I’m really rather tired of caring. We’re driving 14 hours across three states for Thanksgiving, to see all of you. Perhaps you could all alter your schedules for a change? We were planning on driving back on Friday so we could have a day or two to unwind and get the boys’ minds back into school mode after a week of grandparent debauchery. Now we are driving back on Saturday, so that the Thanksgiving meal can be had on Friday, when everyone can be there. I know schedules are difficult to change; try getting my kids back in school mode after a week of being off and I bet we win. I’m tired of us being the ones to do the traveling and no acknowledgment of that. I’m tired of no one feeling we’re worth visiting. I’m tired of explaining to my sons that their cousins can’t come out and visit them for a change. I’m tired of being the Big City Relatives; I’ve had to play that role my whole life and I’m over it. And I’m truly tired of biting my tongue as comments are made and sidelong glances are thrown about our lives and challenging kids. You guys don’t know 1% of what we handle out here and we purposely don’t say anything anymore because I’m tired of trying to convince you that I know what I’m doing and just because you don’t believe it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I’m sure if you lurk here this will come out over the mashed potatoes, and I don’t care. By that time I hope to have a glass or two of wine in me and will really not give a shit.

Looking up tongue studs for the hole that will be created by my teeth in a few weeks,

The Woman Who Stole Him and Moved Him Across the Country

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Dear Universe,

You know A has difficulty with change. Hell, this entire blog is a record of his difficulties with change. So was it really necessary for his very best friend in the whole wide world amen to move to New Mexico in a few weeks? You had to do that to him? Like the poor kid hasn’t had enough trauma in the last ten days learning to swallow pills, his best friend has to move, too? Cut the little guy some slack, please?

From one loving and exhausted Mama Bear

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Have a great weekend! After Ma Nature’s snit last week that resulted in 18 inches of snow, it’s 70 degrees and sunny today. Gotta love Colorado!

Things have been MUCH too dark around here this week. I’m supposed to be laughing at chaos, not getting kicked in the teeth by it. See all the color? Too cheery to be that dark that long. So what’s cheery and pleasant and brings me happy thoughts?

Yes, Jamie Bamber

Wouldn’t that bring you happy thoughts? Not necessarily PG, but happy? Mmmm….but I digress.

No, wait, I don’t want to digress yet.

Hang on.

Trying to breathe.

Um. Yum.

Ok, what else is cheery and pleasant and all that?

TOYS!

The Toys R Us BIG Toy Book!

Yes, the Holy Grail of Holiday Shopping for the Under 10 Set dropped into our lives in last Sunday’s paper. The boys have spent an embarrassingly large number of hours pouring over the pages, circling and marking and initialing and drooling (really dudes, the pages are starting to warp) and planning and negotiating and working up rough drafts to Santa.

I believe the current cost estimate is roughly akin to, say, the GDP of Luxembourg.

Last year A tried to email Santa his wish list: the entire Lego catalog. It didn’t make it to the North Pole, it got caught in the Holy Crap, Kid, Really? filters the elves set up after the boom years of yore.

This year J is actually writing his list (he’s working on it as I type). Yes, I have one kid who’d rather walk on fire with his tongue than write, and another whose day is not complete unless he writes something and tapes it on the wall. And then takes off paint. Or the finish on a cabinet island. But I’m not bitter, oh no…

Like many families, this year Christmas will be a smaller affair. It will certainly not be a repeat of last year’s Wii-derful Christmas. More along the lines of You Get What You Get And You Don’t Throw A Fit. I’ve already started shopping, and will be done by Thanksgiving because I want to enjoy my holidays this year. It will also not be a repeat of XMAS cards 2008, where I got cards, got stamps, got sick of the whole process and said screw it.

Me? What do I want? Well, I already have my drool-worthy photo above, so beyond that…I’m pretty content. I have a home, an employed spouse, reasonably happy and healthy sons, and a dog who thinks I walk on water. Beyond that, I want a direction to my life. I’ve been working on it, but it’s still a process I’m not close to completing. I miss having a goal, something to achieve. And frankly, I’d like to bring in a few coins. But overall, I have everything I need.

Just try to find that in the Big Book of Toys.

I could write about how disappointed I am in Maine’s decision to vote in favor of intolerance, of fear, of discrimination. But I won’t.

I could write about how Greeley, Colorado residents decided that education was just too expensive to fund.

I could write about my ongoing frustrations with the boys’ school and how A’s needs aren’t being met and how I’d probably have more success giving myself a hysterectomy with jello than getting some definitive answers.

I could write about all sorts of things today.

But I won’t.

Never a Dull Moment is now Laughing At Chaos! (Did’ja notice the name change?) The rumors are true, I’ve moved. And, of course, there are boxes and dust everywhere. I keep tripping over things, and sneezing as I do so. But the new digs are magnificent. Christy at Ruby & Roja did an incredible job on the design, got all the little things I was thinking about into a cohesive and colorful design. Cathy at Desperately Seeking Wordpress worked on the technical mumbo-jumbo that would have sent me rocking and sucking my thumb under my desk.

OH! You want the address. Well, if you found this, then you’re here. But, please, do me a solid and change your bookmarks to www.laughingatchaos.com. And the name of the site, too.  If you visit via a feed reader, you’ll need to change that too, please.

Stay tuned, I have ideas for this little slice of internets real estate. Been thinking…dangerous, yes. I love this new design, love how it has captured my crazy, wonderful life. And now…I will play with it.

Denise asked if I was going to go easier on the authorities  in the freaky Balloon Boy case, now that it just keeps getting weirder and weirder. Yes, yes I am. My apologies to the authorities after my last rant. But now, I have more to say.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Heene,

On the scale of frakked up parenting moments, this goes all the way up to 11. You don’t have the brains God gave the humble turnip. You thought this little scheme would work? Really? You apparently forgot the cardinal rule of parenting: kids can’t keep secrets. I haven’t been surprised by a birthday or Christmas gift in years, and you somehow thought a six year old boy would keep this under wraps? I’d ask what you were smoking, but I’m afraid you’d think I was serious and offer me some.

Dear Larimer County Sheriff,

I’ve been watching you on the news. Love the attitude. Love that you’re not taking any shit from the media. Go nuts. Investigate the hell outta this family. Move those kids to a more appropriate home; from the sound of things, the dad is a wee bit unstable. There have been previous investigations into domestic violence, and young boys don’t need that as an influence.

Dear media,

Talk to the sheriff. Ignore this wackadoo family. Please.

Love and kisses,

Jen

So…you might have caught a little news story about a six year old boy here in Colorado who took his family’s helium balloon for a joyride this afternoon. The handmade craft (and I mean craft as in craft project, as well as aircraft), believed to be carrying the child, soared over the Colorado landscape this afternoon and encroached so far into DIA’s airspace that planes in and out of the airport were diverted. All’s well that ends well, and the youngster was found at home, hiding in a box in the attic over the garage.

Lots is being said about the family, about their appearance on the show “Wife Swap,” about their beliefs, about how they’re raising their three sons. Storm chasing and such.

I am so relieved that this young boy is safe. Tom turned on the tv at lunch and we both about had a stroke. We have rabidly slightly curious sons and it wasn’t difficult at all to imagine what the parents were going through.

But here it comes. The parental backlash. You know it’s coming. Why were the boys home from school? Why were the parents inside, leaving the children unattended out in their own backyard? What kind of family builds a helium balloon in their backyard? Are the children safe in such an environment? Maybe we should remove them from the home while we investigate this uncommon parenting style.

I believe it was a school holiday. Because parents don’t need to be on top of their children at all times, especially when the kids are in the backyard. The kind of family that wants to expand their sons’ minds by teaching hands-on science. Damned right, they’re safe; more kids should have such an environment. Remove them? Why not just follow up with a full-on lobotomy, so the world is safe from thinking and experimenting and curiosity.

Yes, there was a massive search. Yes, this made international news quickly. Yes, it was a terrible accident, with the perfect ending. The young boy is safe. Isn’t that what’s most important? Go easy on the parents; they have a full weekend of hug/smack ahead of them.

Breathing now…

I think I wrote on that quote once before, but it’s particularly apt lately. I’ve long since given up trying to control the waves, there’s no point in that. I can’t. Waves have their own rhythm and nothing I do can change that. The best I can do is surf them.

So I’m learning to surf.

I thought once the boys were back in school the surfing would get a bit easier. I’d be able to finally get onto that slippery board, rise up, and enjoy the view while balancing on that wave. They wouldn’t be pulling me back down into the water, demanding that I tow them into shore while at the same time trying to swim the other way.

What has happened instead since that glorious day of August 19th is that now both boys have their own boogie boards, so they’re out in the water with me. The storm way out on the horizon has blown up bigger and deeper waves, and the undertow is strong. The boys are laughing and splashing, thinking this is fun!, while I’m terrified, trying to keep them on their boards while not losing my grip on mine.

To ride these intense waves and not go under, I’ve had to jettison a lot of cargo. This little piece of the internets has suffered deeply as I just haven’t been able to write as I’d like to. Date nights are now 2e parenting seminars. I haven’t read, much less commented on, any blogs in days. Right now my counter is glaring 408 at me. I’ll likely MAAR most of them and I hate doing that, as I started blogging to be part of a community.

My biggest and heaviest cargo was also the most difficult to jettison. I finally decided to drop the home-based business I’d had for over three years. Business, family, sanity: pick two. But it had to be done. With those waves, and the undertow, and the two boys beside me having the time of their lives while I try to keep them happy and healthy and safe…it had to go.

You need only go back and reread my last five posts or so to realize that the waves are doing their damnedest to drown me, and I refuse to allow that to happen. A does indeed have Central Auditory Processing Disorder; I believe the term used was significant. So he now has an ear filter that helps eliminate some of the distracting background noise. He has started vision therapy again, and if I could remember to actually do the exercises with him, I’m sure it’d help a lot. All his GI tests came back entirely normal, and we have yet another appointment this afternoon to determine the next course of action. God bless the school’s GT teacher, who is really fighting for me regarding the whole 2e diagnosis; the district’s requirements…sigh…let’s just say I adore her and want to buy her a puppy for working so hard on A’s behalf. In addition to all this, A has been off any ADHD meds since the end of July, which has been wonderful for appetite and growth, both of which are bigger. It has sucked for attention. Hyperactivity is no more than any other 8 year old, but inattention is so bad Tom and I are at our wits’ end, and it’s no wonder the school doesn’t believe he could possibly be gifted. However, it appears that the Holy Grail Of ADHD Meds is coming to pharmacies in November, and A’s doc will have samples in (pleaseGodohpleaseGod) the next couple of weeks. By Thanksgiving we might have a kid who could actually focus for longer than (not really kidding here) 10 seconds.

The other son? I’m trying so hard to not lose J in all this.

In the grand scheme of things I know this all isn’t life or death. I look around and see others hurting far more than I and the guilt hits hard. There was a terrible bus crash in Idaho this weekend, with a high school marching band on board. Every director’s nightmare. Tom knows the band, knows the director, had dinner last winter with the teacher who was killed. My issues are so insignificant in comparison.

The waves keep coming, stronger and deeper, at all of us. But with every slip off the board I get stronger and wiser, and eventually I’ll be able to stand on that board, on top of the meanest wave, and ride that sucker to shore with a smile on my face.

I can’t believe it’s already afternoon. I’ve spent the morning digging out from under everything smothering me for the last several weeks, and I’m not even close to the bottom of the pile. Barely skimmed the surface, actually.

BUT! I have a new post up at Hopeful Parents. Woot! A day late, but it’s there!

Finally, before I go grab lunch and continue to excavate the office, a question I’ve been curious about.

What is your Walter Mitty fantasy? If you don’t know who Walter Mitty is, I weep for the education system. Go here and read the short story, then come back and share your fantasy. I’m curious to see what people say. Such a great short story.

If I don’t resurface soon, send search dogs with brandy.

Today I’ve completed 36 spins around that glowing orb in the sky. Well, I think there’s a glowing orb in the sky, it’s been raining for the last few days and it’s simply dumb luck that we’re not getting 1-3 inches of snow today. On my birthday. Unless your birthday is in January, it should be a crime to snow on your birthday. Especially when you need jeans and don’t own a functioning umbrella thankyoumydearsonsforbreakingtheonlyoneweowned.

Thirty-six. I’m actually comfortable with that. I don’t feel older, for a change, and feel I’ve earned every one of those years…especially the last eight. That I don’t have a head of gray hair is amazing, and for that I am grateful. That said, I am totally in favor of hair color, have done it in the past and will most certainly do it again in the future.

No plans for the day, other than going to yoga. Then I will come home and…clear my desk, empty the inbox, process the actions list to as close to zero as humanly possible, make beef broth (so I can make beef stew tomorrow), make roasted tomato sauce, figure out which boy needs pants/shoes/coats/etc., and basically just have your typical Wednesday.

BUT!

In honor of my birthday, I have said FRAK THIS! to the Detox From Hell two days early. I’m done. I went as far as I could and really have no desire to go any frakking further. I had an egg sandwich for breakfast this morning, with 2 (!) cups of coffee. I nearly wept with joy it tasted so good. And tonight? I.Am.Having.A.Glass.Of.Wine. It’ll probably knock my on my aging ass, but it will taste oh-so-good.

So as I celebrate my 36 spins today, I have one request for the world. I figure if I put it out there, it’s out there, and maybe will make a difference. Just remember that we’re all on this spinning rock together, and ain’t none of us getting off alive. We have to work together, on everything. Every little interaction with another person creates ripples in both lives. We can use those ripples working together in one direction to create a tsunami of change, or those ripples can bang around and simply soak everyone in reach, pissing everyone off.

Your thought for the day.

And, finally, a comment from yesterday’s post on dead mothers in animated movies totally made my day today. From Chelle:

Is there something wrong in my head when, while I totally agree with the point of your post, the ONE thing I am fixated on is the thought : OMG! Jen would make an AWESOME animated character! ?

Yes?

Ok.

But you totally would and, I can’t see you getting killed off. Killing something, perhaps, getting killed off, not so much.

Made.My.Day. Thanks, Chelle!