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Oh yeah, I'm writing for Gawker now
14 years ago
Monday, December 22, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
School Carnival Fail
I guess they didn't have space to list the Circle Jerk game or the One Eyed Monster ride. Tattoos by LA Ink.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
2 Hours Away By Helicopter
So here’s how it went…
My mother in law, Shirley called me about 10 minutes after 9 that morning. Shirley is unfailingly upbeat so when her voice is shaking, you can be assured that something is Wrong, with a capital W. She said “We have a heart” . All I could think of to say was the terribly original “ohmygodohmygod,”. She said the surgery would happen that day and they had to leave for Gainesville about 11 am.
Meagan had just been to her cardiologist (Dr. Fricker) the week before over some concerns about her fainting & feeling extremely fatigued. She was told she was dehydrated & needed to consume a lot more water than she had been. We were told that despite that, she was doing fine and no change in status was necessary. I had sort of filed the whole situation under “Deal With Later” in my head & gone on my merry way.
I called Chris’s cell phone & got a curious non-reaction from him- ‘Oh. Okay. I’ll talk to you later’ We were both in disbelief & non process mode for about 2 hours. If I had had wings, they would’ve been flapping uselessly at my sides. I picked stuff up. I put stuff down. I would decide on a course of action and almost immediately get distracted & go off on something else. I cried. I pre-mourned. I pre-celebrated. I rehearsed what to tell Wesley, do I Prepare Him For The Worst? Was it necessary? Should I be practical or positive? And Connor? How little info could I get away with sharing with him.
Once my wheels stopped spinning and forward motion was reestablished, Chris & I were able to come up with a plan. We decided to leave immediately after school and get a room in Gainesville for the night. I could wait at the hotel with the kids, he could be at the hospital.
On our way down, we learned that the heart was coming from an 18 year old girl in state and that it was being harvested right then. I admit I lost it a little bit imagining her family. Unrestrained joy does not mesh with the death of a child, no matter how hard you rationalize. Would it help me to know that my child’s death would allow another child to live? Yes, eventually. Not right away.
Plus that word…”harvested”. Shudder.
There’s nothing else they can call it?Recycled? Repurposed?
We got to Gainesville just a few minutes too late to talk to her before they took her back. Chris & I both kind of felt like those moments before the operation belonged to her parents. I know she wanted to see Wesley, though, & I felt bad for not being able to give her that. She and Wesley bonded while they were both safety patrols in 5th grade. There was some incident with a kid making fun of her & Wesley bowing up about it. She also likes his SuperMeagan drawings that he does for her occasionally.
Shands hospital in Gainesville produces miracles by the metric ton. They’ve made an effort to make the children’s floor cheerful but it just doesn’t work. There is grief in every spinning atom of the place. The Ronald McDonald family room on the 10th floor has a TV, some toys, some sleep chairs, even a computer with printer. Just ignore the big plastic clown clock on the wall.
Can’t sleep, Ronald McDonald will eat me.
We sat. We chatted about nothing. It was nice to talk to Eric (Meagan’s dad) again, he’s cool , he’s fun…I didn’t divorce him, you know? His wife, Cari, is also cool. You expect some tension with the ex husband/new wife/ etc… but everybody was being grownups for a greater cause & that’s a good thing. Holly’s boyfriend, Darrin, was getting pillows & blankets for her ex-husband’s new wife at one point & it was all kumbayah. You’re literally afraid to start shit in that situation.
We heard the helicopter leave to go get Meagan’s heart and it sounded hopeful and horrible at the same time. They told us it was 2 hours away from Gainesville. I felt like I was holding the other family’s grief in my hands like a rosary. Maybe if I feel enough sympathy & compassion for them, it will benefit Meagan? Maybe I’m supposed to dwell on their sacrifice to be worthy of it? That much I do remember from going to church.
Chris took me back to the hotel around 9:30- Connor was getting ampy & jerky. We watched the election, not caring one little bit. It seemed like a pointless circus that had nothing to do with me. The minutes dragged on.
I texted Chris @ about 3:15 am, asking him to come to the hotel & try to get some rest. He stayed until about 3:45 & then left. We had just gotten settled & back to sleep when his cell rang & his mom said it was over, she did great & they were cleaning her up. There wasn’t really relief at that point. We made that mistake 12 years ago, believing that surely getting a heart + having a surgery = win. She almost died after the operation then & we were unwilling to trust the 12 years of medical advancement that’s there.
Later that morning Chris, Wes & I were able to go back and see her. I was amazed that she was awake. What in the world would it be like to wake up with someone else’s heart in your body? Would all the emotions we associate with our hearts be different? Would she wake up with a crush on a boy she’d never met (but who was only 2 hours away by helicopter)? Would her new heart tell her to do different things? Would she like chocolate now?
She had a breathing tube in and it was pissing her off. She wanted to talk but couldn’t & was getting frustrated. She was happy to see Wes, she mouthed “I got a new heart!” to him. He laughed & said “…duh”. I smacked him on the head for that- you don’t “duh” somebody in intensive care, you prick. They gave her some better pain meds (always a prudent course of action, imho) and she was able to relax.
We took off home feeling grateful & cautious & like the last 24 hours had been outside of normal time. Stuff went on, we had a new President etc.. The tube is out & her doctor says she’s doing great. Not just great but raised eyebrows-holy shit!- great.
Thanks to everyone, everywhere who prayed or sent good vibes or even stopped for a second & thought, ‘whoa, hope that turns out okay’. It all helped.
My mother in law, Shirley called me about 10 minutes after 9 that morning. Shirley is unfailingly upbeat so when her voice is shaking, you can be assured that something is Wrong, with a capital W. She said “We have a heart” . All I could think of to say was the terribly original “ohmygodohmygod,”. She said the surgery would happen that day and they had to leave for Gainesville about 11 am.
Meagan had just been to her cardiologist (Dr. Fricker) the week before over some concerns about her fainting & feeling extremely fatigued. She was told she was dehydrated & needed to consume a lot more water than she had been. We were told that despite that, she was doing fine and no change in status was necessary. I had sort of filed the whole situation under “Deal With Later” in my head & gone on my merry way.
I called Chris’s cell phone & got a curious non-reaction from him- ‘Oh. Okay. I’ll talk to you later’ We were both in disbelief & non process mode for about 2 hours. If I had had wings, they would’ve been flapping uselessly at my sides. I picked stuff up. I put stuff down. I would decide on a course of action and almost immediately get distracted & go off on something else. I cried. I pre-mourned. I pre-celebrated. I rehearsed what to tell Wesley, do I Prepare Him For The Worst? Was it necessary? Should I be practical or positive? And Connor? How little info could I get away with sharing with him.
Once my wheels stopped spinning and forward motion was reestablished, Chris & I were able to come up with a plan. We decided to leave immediately after school and get a room in Gainesville for the night. I could wait at the hotel with the kids, he could be at the hospital.
On our way down, we learned that the heart was coming from an 18 year old girl in state and that it was being harvested right then. I admit I lost it a little bit imagining her family. Unrestrained joy does not mesh with the death of a child, no matter how hard you rationalize. Would it help me to know that my child’s death would allow another child to live? Yes, eventually. Not right away.
Plus that word…”harvested”. Shudder.
There’s nothing else they can call it?Recycled? Repurposed?
We got to Gainesville just a few minutes too late to talk to her before they took her back. Chris & I both kind of felt like those moments before the operation belonged to her parents. I know she wanted to see Wesley, though, & I felt bad for not being able to give her that. She and Wesley bonded while they were both safety patrols in 5th grade. There was some incident with a kid making fun of her & Wesley bowing up about it. She also likes his SuperMeagan drawings that he does for her occasionally.
Shands hospital in Gainesville produces miracles by the metric ton. They’ve made an effort to make the children’s floor cheerful but it just doesn’t work. There is grief in every spinning atom of the place. The Ronald McDonald family room on the 10th floor has a TV, some toys, some sleep chairs, even a computer with printer. Just ignore the big plastic clown clock on the wall.
Can’t sleep, Ronald McDonald will eat me.
We sat. We chatted about nothing. It was nice to talk to Eric (Meagan’s dad) again, he’s cool , he’s fun…I didn’t divorce him, you know? His wife, Cari, is also cool. You expect some tension with the ex husband/new wife/ etc… but everybody was being grownups for a greater cause & that’s a good thing. Holly’s boyfriend, Darrin, was getting pillows & blankets for her ex-husband’s new wife at one point & it was all kumbayah. You’re literally afraid to start shit in that situation.
We heard the helicopter leave to go get Meagan’s heart and it sounded hopeful and horrible at the same time. They told us it was 2 hours away from Gainesville. I felt like I was holding the other family’s grief in my hands like a rosary. Maybe if I feel enough sympathy & compassion for them, it will benefit Meagan? Maybe I’m supposed to dwell on their sacrifice to be worthy of it? That much I do remember from going to church.
Chris took me back to the hotel around 9:30- Connor was getting ampy & jerky. We watched the election, not caring one little bit. It seemed like a pointless circus that had nothing to do with me. The minutes dragged on.
I texted Chris @ about 3:15 am, asking him to come to the hotel & try to get some rest. He stayed until about 3:45 & then left. We had just gotten settled & back to sleep when his cell rang & his mom said it was over, she did great & they were cleaning her up. There wasn’t really relief at that point. We made that mistake 12 years ago, believing that surely getting a heart + having a surgery = win. She almost died after the operation then & we were unwilling to trust the 12 years of medical advancement that’s there.
Later that morning Chris, Wes & I were able to go back and see her. I was amazed that she was awake. What in the world would it be like to wake up with someone else’s heart in your body? Would all the emotions we associate with our hearts be different? Would she wake up with a crush on a boy she’d never met (but who was only 2 hours away by helicopter)? Would her new heart tell her to do different things? Would she like chocolate now?
She had a breathing tube in and it was pissing her off. She wanted to talk but couldn’t & was getting frustrated. She was happy to see Wes, she mouthed “I got a new heart!” to him. He laughed & said “…duh”. I smacked him on the head for that- you don’t “duh” somebody in intensive care, you prick. They gave her some better pain meds (always a prudent course of action, imho) and she was able to relax.
We took off home feeling grateful & cautious & like the last 24 hours had been outside of normal time. Stuff went on, we had a new President etc.. The tube is out & her doctor says she’s doing great. Not just great but raised eyebrows-holy shit!- great.
Thanks to everyone, everywhere who prayed or sent good vibes or even stopped for a second & thought, ‘whoa, hope that turns out okay’. It all helped.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
A day for change
No, this isn't an election post. It's way more important...to me anyway.
My niece Meagan is having a heart transplant this afternoon. She was born with hypoplastic left heart syndrome and this will be her second go 'round. Her first transplant was at 6 weeks old and it was a horrible time for all of us. She came through then because she is a tough kid and she'll come through again.
Please keep us all in your prayers (or whatever it is you do). Likewise the family that has given us this unimaginable gift. There are no words in any language to describe those feelings. It's bigger than words.
Please, please, please sign your organ donor card & share you decision with your family. You won't need your organs once you're dead, you selfish bitch, and somebody else really, really needs them.
Goddammit, Gainesville, I broke the "nothing good ever happens in Gainseville" curse this year, let's keep it going.
Meagan & Wesley
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
On Lameness
I asked Connor yesterday how his day went as he came in the door.
“We had vision screening” he said, tossing his backpack on the table
“It was lame”
Should he, at 6, even be aware of the existence of lame? Much less able to make decisions regarding what does or does not exist in it?
Advanced in the ways of the smart ass, is that one.
Also , Wesley has to design a city park for a math assignment and Chris & I are literally having to restrain ourselves from helping him. Not because he needs it, because it sounds like SO MUCH FUN. It involves graph paper & posterboard and persuasive letters & a design storyboard and I’m wondering if Jamie would let us borrow her drafting tools and…
We are lame
“We had vision screening” he said, tossing his backpack on the table
“It was lame”
Should he, at 6, even be aware of the existence of lame? Much less able to make decisions regarding what does or does not exist in it?
Advanced in the ways of the smart ass, is that one.
Also , Wesley has to design a city park for a math assignment and Chris & I are literally having to restrain ourselves from helping him. Not because he needs it, because it sounds like SO MUCH FUN. It involves graph paper & posterboard and persuasive letters & a design storyboard and I’m wondering if Jamie would let us borrow her drafting tools and…
We are lame
Friday, October 3, 2008
Saturday, August 16, 2008
More Hurricane Stupidity
This from the venerable New York Times. puke.
In Florida, Turning a Blind Eye to Hurricanes
First of all, nice grammar jerks.
Second, so sorry to not provide media outlets with a photogenic freak out every time a hurricane is predicted to come near Florida. We'll work on that.
Third, the article quotes various emergency management and government officials who basically state that for various reasons Floridians have become complacent regarding hurricane preparations. None of those reasons indicate anybody turning a "blind eye" to the existence of the goddamn things. We're not buying the National Hurricane Center (motto: let's make some shit up, huh?) and it's wolf crying bullshit anymore and also? We. are. broke. It's kind of hard to buy a bunch of extra stuff when the necessary stuff is barely within reach.
Either you're wealthy enough to piss off to your other home when your oceanfront mansion is threatened or you've got a package of dollar store batteries & a cheap flashlight somewhere in a box in the garage. Either way we're just fine, thanks New York Times, and you can turn your condescending concern to something else. Your vacation homes will be just fine and as soon as the storm passes you can come back to Disney World and stand "on line" and complain loudly about everything.
Source, schmource
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/16/us/16hurricane.html?hp
In Florida, Turning a Blind Eye to Hurricanes
First of all, nice grammar jerks.
Second, so sorry to not provide media outlets with a photogenic freak out every time a hurricane is predicted to come near Florida. We'll work on that.
Third, the article quotes various emergency management and government officials who basically state that for various reasons Floridians have become complacent regarding hurricane preparations. None of those reasons indicate anybody turning a "blind eye" to the existence of the goddamn things. We're not buying the National Hurricane Center (motto: let's make some shit up, huh?) and it's wolf crying bullshit anymore and also? We. are. broke. It's kind of hard to buy a bunch of extra stuff when the necessary stuff is barely within reach.
Either you're wealthy enough to piss off to your other home when your oceanfront mansion is threatened or you've got a package of dollar store batteries & a cheap flashlight somewhere in a box in the garage. Either way we're just fine, thanks New York Times, and you can turn your condescending concern to something else. Your vacation homes will be just fine and as soon as the storm passes you can come back to Disney World and stand "on line" and complain loudly about everything.
Source, schmource
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/16/us/16hurricane.html?hp
Friday, August 8, 2008
Happy 40th Birthday!
to Chris.
For the next 7 months I get to tell people my husband is "in his 40's" while I am "in my 30's".
Oddly, he doesn't seem as excited about that as I do.
Go figure.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Oh, Misery
I stayed up til the wee smalls last night re (re-re-re-re etc...point belabored, move on)reading Misery by Stephen King.
It occured to me this morning that I'm really, at this particular time, indentifying with someone who's TRAPPED in the HOUSE by an INSANE person (or, in my case, PERSONS) and FORCED to PERFORM tasks for their cockadoodie AMUSEMENT.
I'm just saying.
In good news, pre-planning starts next Monday. Or, to continue the parallel, that's when the deputy finds my car in the spring runoff & comes to investigate.
I shouldn't complain...they're my number one fans.
It occured to me this morning that I'm really, at this particular time, indentifying with someone who's TRAPPED in the HOUSE by an INSANE person (or, in my case, PERSONS) and FORCED to PERFORM tasks for their cockadoodie AMUSEMENT.
I'm just saying.
In good news, pre-planning starts next Monday. Or, to continue the parallel, that's when the deputy finds my car in the spring runoff & comes to investigate.
I shouldn't complain...they're my number one fans.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Second stupidest headline of the '08 hurricane season
Tropical Disturbance Forms South of Florida in Northern Gulf
Say what? How the hell can it be south of Florida but in the northern Gulf? Seriously, you need to turn the map the other way 'round, Margot Habiby. Yeah, I called her out by name. Ignorance hates the light.
Source of Nonsense
http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=20601103&sid=aep0FncCtVJA&refer=us
Say what? How the hell can it be south of Florida but in the northern Gulf? Seriously, you need to turn the map the other way 'round, Margot Habiby. Yeah, I called her out by name. Ignorance hates the light.
Source of Nonsense
http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=20601103&sid=aep0FncCtVJA&refer=us
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Wisdom from a father to his oldest son...
On the topic of developing good grooming habits with the onset of puberty
"Clean your chassis cause you smell like Lassie"
- P.C. Nix
"Clean your chassis cause you smell like Lassie"
- P.C. Nix
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
That bitch WISHES she was me
Do you think Angelina Jolie ever spends Tuesday afternoon arguing with one of her kids about whether or not Jedi are allowed to show their nipples*? How about scraping dog shit out of their sneakers with a bamboo kebob stick?
No? Just me then.
* The discussion arose when Connor came downstairs in a Harry Potter costume robe, no shirt, Batman underwear & last years clone trooper mask- yelling 'I'm a Jediiiiii! Diiieeeee!'. I told him I was almost positive the Jedi were forbidden to show their nipples in public. I stand by that statement.
No? Just me then.
* The discussion arose when Connor came downstairs in a Harry Potter costume robe, no shirt, Batman underwear & last years clone trooper mask- yelling 'I'm a Jediiiiii! Diiieeeee!'. I told him I was almost positive the Jedi were forbidden to show their nipples in public. I stand by that statement.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Stupidest hurricane headline of the season (so far)
The award goes to Reuters UK for this geography ignorant gem
Bertha to remain out of Gulf of Mexico this week
Oh, do you think? Considering it's in the Central Atlantic and expected to pass about 800 miles from the east coast of Florida? Well spotted there.
Also this;
While a hurricane does not form in the Atlantic every year in July,
No shit? Wow. That's some hard edged reporting, Captains Obvious.
I know this news agency is based in the United Kingdom and shouldn't be expected to care about the finer points but....damn ya'll, get a map.
Source
http://uk.reuters.com/article/burningIssues/idUKN0739701820080707
Bertha to remain out of Gulf of Mexico this week
Oh, do you think? Considering it's in the Central Atlantic and expected to pass about 800 miles from the east coast of Florida? Well spotted there.
Also this;
While a hurricane does not form in the Atlantic every year in July,
No shit? Wow. That's some hard edged reporting, Captains Obvious.
I know this news agency is based in the United Kingdom and shouldn't be expected to care about the finer points but....damn ya'll, get a map.
Source
http://uk.reuters.com/article/burningIssues/idUKN0739701820080707
Friday, June 27, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
At 11:00 you're a slut. Tru fax
Wesley got home from his Washington trip around 7:00 pm on a Friday. By 9:30 pm- he was out for the count. We had surprised him with his own room, he had been sharing with his brother since we moved into this house in 2004.
At 10:50 pm I hear the James Bond theme. The voices in my head were pretty adamant that they weren't responsible. It hit me that Wes's ring tone was the James Bond theme and his phone was probably ringing.
We got him a cheap pre-paid cell expressly for the trip to Washington, I wanted to be able to talk to him whenever & vice versa. I didn't think he would take to it like he did but he's pretty sure he's a bad ass with that cell phone in his pocket.
I went and found his phone & hit Ignore so it wouldn't wake him. I also took note of the fact that I didn't recognize the incoming number. Wrong number? Maybe, but then the tone that signals voice mail went off.
Hmm, says I, voice mail? Ususally wrong numbers don't leave messages once they hear the wrong voice on the voice mail. So, being a cautious (read: nosy as shit) person, I listened to the voice mail.
Reminder: He's 11. E. Leven. and should have exactly 0 expectations of privacy from me.
The message is from some girl. ?!. who sounds 12 going on 30 and is as follows
"Hi Wes, it's Kate. I got your text, call me back at this number"
*dies*
Ex. Cuse. Me?
Now it turns out I know this girl's parents and they are really good people. She's a nice girl, not prissy, very friendly with everyone. A good girl.
NOT AT 11:00 AT NIGHT, SHE'S NOT.
For the parent of a boy, 11:00 at night = WHORE.
I (allegedly) checked his outgoing texts to find out they'd been deleted. ORLY? and there were other girls numbers on his cell phone from his trip to D.C.
The next morning when Wes rolled out of bed, I casually questioned him about it. You know, confidentally so as not to embarrass him.
Just kidding, I wore his ass out about it in front of his entire family and a few random strangers at our garage sale that morning.
He insists she's "just a friend. God." and he denied sending her a text. Of course he said it as he was frantically fiddling with his phone, muting it in case it rang again.
I. am. not. ready. I did not authorize any kind of puberty time situation. Also? his cell phone ,literally and with no help from me, died. From shame, probably.
At 10:50 pm I hear the James Bond theme. The voices in my head were pretty adamant that they weren't responsible. It hit me that Wes's ring tone was the James Bond theme and his phone was probably ringing.
We got him a cheap pre-paid cell expressly for the trip to Washington, I wanted to be able to talk to him whenever & vice versa. I didn't think he would take to it like he did but he's pretty sure he's a bad ass with that cell phone in his pocket.
I went and found his phone & hit Ignore so it wouldn't wake him. I also took note of the fact that I didn't recognize the incoming number. Wrong number? Maybe, but then the tone that signals voice mail went off.
Hmm, says I, voice mail? Ususally wrong numbers don't leave messages once they hear the wrong voice on the voice mail. So, being a cautious (read: nosy as shit) person, I listened to the voice mail.
Reminder: He's 11. E. Leven. and should have exactly 0 expectations of privacy from me.
The message is from some girl. ?!. who sounds 12 going on 30 and is as follows
"Hi Wes, it's Kate. I got your text, call me back at this number"
*dies*
Ex. Cuse. Me?
Now it turns out I know this girl's parents and they are really good people. She's a nice girl, not prissy, very friendly with everyone. A good girl.
NOT AT 11:00 AT NIGHT, SHE'S NOT.
For the parent of a boy, 11:00 at night = WHORE.
I (allegedly) checked his outgoing texts to find out they'd been deleted. ORLY? and there were other girls numbers on his cell phone from his trip to D.C.
The next morning when Wes rolled out of bed, I casually questioned him about it. You know, confidentally so as not to embarrass him.
Just kidding, I wore his ass out about it in front of his entire family and a few random strangers at our garage sale that morning.
He insists she's "just a friend. God." and he denied sending her a text. Of course he said it as he was frantically fiddling with his phone, muting it in case it rang again.
I. am. not. ready. I did not authorize any kind of puberty time situation. Also? his cell phone ,literally and with no help from me, died. From shame, probably.
Why don't you have a seat over there?
So the phone rings yesterday, early afternoon. I checked the caller ID- it was a man's name that I didn't recognize. I figured it was a wrong number & answered it. I'm a good citizen. So this deep adult male voice says "Can I speak to Wesley".
(insert record scratch noise) HOLD UP!
I didn't say anything because I'm gathering steam to produce Frightenting Parent Voice when he says "This is Mr. James".
Oh, pheeeeewww. It's his teacher! I hand the phone to Wes, who promptly hits the wrong button & hangs up. He apparently has never seen the phone in his life and can't puzzle out the complexities required in putting it to your ear & talking.
I made him call Mr. James back & apologize for being such a doofus. Turns out Mr. James & his co-teacher Ms. Thompson are giving 5 dollars to every kid in his class who passed the FCAT (state standardized test) and were arranging to meet up in a local park. Apparently Mr. James is retired from a city planning job in New York and has many, many dollars to spare.
Poor Wes; hanging on a Sunday, listening to his iPod and a TEACHER calls..his HOUSE..to talk to HIM. He walked around like he'd been tased the rest of the day.
He was so traumatized we couldn't get any useable info out of him. There was "some deal" at Victory Park (which, eeeew) at "maybe 10ish or something I. Dont. Know" and "you're not going to leave me there are you? God."
Turns out they are having a cookout for the kids from 10:30 to 12:30 and when Chris dropped him off, there were squirt guns.
We? Are the kind of parents who will NOT leave our kids in a city park unarmed so Chris went to Walgreens & got him a Water Rocket Launcher with Nuclear Option thing.
It's all about arming your kids with the tools to succeed in the real world. Also, don't bring a squirt gun to a Super Soaker fight, people.
(insert record scratch noise) HOLD UP!
I didn't say anything because I'm gathering steam to produce Frightenting Parent Voice when he says "This is Mr. James".
Oh, pheeeeewww. It's his teacher! I hand the phone to Wes, who promptly hits the wrong button & hangs up. He apparently has never seen the phone in his life and can't puzzle out the complexities required in putting it to your ear & talking.
I made him call Mr. James back & apologize for being such a doofus. Turns out Mr. James & his co-teacher Ms. Thompson are giving 5 dollars to every kid in his class who passed the FCAT (state standardized test) and were arranging to meet up in a local park. Apparently Mr. James is retired from a city planning job in New York and has many, many dollars to spare.
Poor Wes; hanging on a Sunday, listening to his iPod and a TEACHER calls..his HOUSE..to talk to HIM. He walked around like he'd been tased the rest of the day.
He was so traumatized we couldn't get any useable info out of him. There was "some deal" at Victory Park (which, eeeew) at "maybe 10ish or something I. Dont. Know" and "you're not going to leave me there are you? God."
Turns out they are having a cookout for the kids from 10:30 to 12:30 and when Chris dropped him off, there were squirt guns.
We? Are the kind of parents who will NOT leave our kids in a city park unarmed so Chris went to Walgreens & got him a Water Rocket Launcher with Nuclear Option thing.
It's all about arming your kids with the tools to succeed in the real world. Also, don't bring a squirt gun to a Super Soaker fight, people.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Friday Night Naked Guy
Last Friday night (6/6) I was up late reading. About 12:45 I realized I had forgotten to flip the towels from the washer into the dryer (for about the 3rd day- fucking laundry) and went downstairs to make it happen.
Flipped on the light over the stairs, went and accomplished the towel flipping (avec swearing) and started to come back upstairs. As I passed the window in the front door I noticed that the back porch of the house on the corner was lit up. Their overhead light must have about 400 watts in it and it faces my front door directly. Kind of annoying..but wait! What's that? Only a naked guy sitting in a chair facing my house.
The naked guy wasn't doing anything vulgar, just hanging out on the phone being Naked Guy. He looked to be in his early 20's or so, kind of fit, a little skinny for my taste but that's beside the point. I decided if someone was going to take the trouble to be naked at 1:00 on Saturday morning it would be rude not to look. Right? Anyway I flipped off the lights, the better to stealth you see- being naked is no condition in which to be startled- and went and got the binoculars.
What?? It's a little Gladys Kravitz-y, I admit, but I had to make sure there was no malfeasance going on. Maybe he was being held hostage? Maybe there'd been a home invasion & he was waiting an appropriate amount of time to call the cops? I am nothing if not concerened for my fellow man, naked or not. He was literally just sitting there, on the phone, on a screened in porch with no window coverings whatsoever that faced the front of 6 other homes. He's the deviant here, not me.
After about 5 (okay 20) minutes, I got bored & went back to bed. Next time I'll remember the video camera. Helloooooo, YouTube!
Flipped on the light over the stairs, went and accomplished the towel flipping (avec swearing) and started to come back upstairs. As I passed the window in the front door I noticed that the back porch of the house on the corner was lit up. Their overhead light must have about 400 watts in it and it faces my front door directly. Kind of annoying..but wait! What's that? Only a naked guy sitting in a chair facing my house.
The naked guy wasn't doing anything vulgar, just hanging out on the phone being Naked Guy. He looked to be in his early 20's or so, kind of fit, a little skinny for my taste but that's beside the point. I decided if someone was going to take the trouble to be naked at 1:00 on Saturday morning it would be rude not to look. Right? Anyway I flipped off the lights, the better to stealth you see- being naked is no condition in which to be startled- and went and got the binoculars.
What?? It's a little Gladys Kravitz-y, I admit, but I had to make sure there was no malfeasance going on. Maybe he was being held hostage? Maybe there'd been a home invasion & he was waiting an appropriate amount of time to call the cops? I am nothing if not concerened for my fellow man, naked or not. He was literally just sitting there, on the phone, on a screened in porch with no window coverings whatsoever that faced the front of 6 other homes. He's the deviant here, not me.
After about 5 (okay 20) minutes, I got bored & went back to bed. Next time I'll remember the video camera. Helloooooo, YouTube!
Adventures In Bad Parenting- the summer handbook
I am stuck in the house with 3 cats, 2 kids, 1 husband & 1 dog for the duration of summer vacation. Things get hairy. Fast. Here is a handy guide to what mom says versus what mom means.
Okay, honey. = I swear to God if you say that one more time I will
super glue your lips shut
Not right now = I'm gonna hold off on that and hope you forget
Maybe later = never, ever, ever
Are you hungry? = You better get your asses down here 'cause I have
a 15 minute window for fixing lunch today and if you miss it? It's a loooong time til dinner, buckaroos
Do you guys want hot dogs for lunch? = Upton Sinclair doesn't live here, you're having hot dogs for luch. Deal.
What's the problem? = Shut up, shut up, shut up
Why don't you guys go upstairs? = Murder imminent
What's your dad doing? = Cause I have reached my daily allowance of
parental responsibility and it's his turn.Otherwise I'm going to start passing out matches for you to play with
Go ask your father = The level of my disinterest cannot be measured
with the tools currenty available.
It's time for baths= you guys smell like feet. Corpse feet. Plus I
cant remember how long its been since you were in water that wasn't chlorinated
Guys? Keep it down = if I miss the part where Maury tells the 4th
guy tested he's not the father there WILL be beatings
Hope it helps. Enjoy your summer!
Okay, honey. = I swear to God if you say that one more time I will
super glue your lips shut
Not right now = I'm gonna hold off on that and hope you forget
Maybe later = never, ever, ever
Are you hungry? = You better get your asses down here 'cause I have
a 15 minute window for fixing lunch today and if you miss it? It's a loooong time til dinner, buckaroos
Do you guys want hot dogs for lunch? = Upton Sinclair doesn't live here, you're having hot dogs for luch. Deal.
What's the problem? = Shut up, shut up, shut up
Why don't you guys go upstairs? = Murder imminent
What's your dad doing? = Cause I have reached my daily allowance of
parental responsibility and it's his turn.Otherwise I'm going to start passing out matches for you to play with
Go ask your father = The level of my disinterest cannot be measured
with the tools currenty available.
It's time for baths= you guys smell like feet. Corpse feet. Plus I
cant remember how long its been since you were in water that wasn't chlorinated
Guys? Keep it down = if I miss the part where Maury tells the 4th
guy tested he's not the father there WILL be beatings
Hope it helps. Enjoy your summer!
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Adventures in Bad Parenting: Alternate Reality
What we told Connor;
There was a goldfish named SpongeBob who lived at Wal-Mart. Spongebob was an old fish. He was living in a big tank full of other, younger, cuter fish. He had no one to care about him and he had to fight all the other goldfish for food. Every day SpongeBob saw the other, younger, cuter fish get bought and everyday Spongebob thought to himself 'No one will ever buy me, I'm not young and I'm not very cute'. All he wanted was to make somebody happy, he knew he could if someone would just give him a chance. He was very lonely.
One day a little boy named Connor came to Wal-Mart with his parents and brother wanting to buy goldfish for his birthday. SpongeBob was thrilled when the little boy picked him to take home! He was so happy, he didn't know what to do. Not only did SpongeBob get to go home with Connor, his friend Patrick came too. SpongeBob had gotten exactly what he'd wished for.
At home, Connor put his two goldfish in a sparkly, new tank with pretty plants to play in and colorful gravel along the bottom. Every day, Connor's mom fed Patrick & SpongeBob and talked in a happy voice to them. They played on and around the plants in the tank and searched the gravel for treasure. They were the happiest fish in the world.
One day, SpongeBob didn't feel much like swimming around. He thought he'd just stay on the bottom, in the gravel, where it was comfortable and where he felt safe. SpongeBob knew he was coming to the end of his time in the tank. He wasn't sad. He had spent the happiest days of his life in his tank with his friend Patrick, all thanks to his boy Connor. SpongeBob only hoped Connor wouldn't be too sad when it when it was time to leave the tank. The morning came when it was time for SpongeBob to go. He said goodbye to Patrick and Connor, who was still sleeping, and lay down in the corner of the tank to wait.
Later that morning Connor's dad took SpongeBob to the river, where all good goldfish go, and set him free. Spongebob had fulfilled his lifelong dream of making somebody happy and it was all thanks to the little boy who took a chance on an old, not cute, goldfish.
Translation: We got a bum goldfish from WalMart. He only lived a week. We flushed him.
There was a goldfish named SpongeBob who lived at Wal-Mart. Spongebob was an old fish. He was living in a big tank full of other, younger, cuter fish. He had no one to care about him and he had to fight all the other goldfish for food. Every day SpongeBob saw the other, younger, cuter fish get bought and everyday Spongebob thought to himself 'No one will ever buy me, I'm not young and I'm not very cute'. All he wanted was to make somebody happy, he knew he could if someone would just give him a chance. He was very lonely.
One day a little boy named Connor came to Wal-Mart with his parents and brother wanting to buy goldfish for his birthday. SpongeBob was thrilled when the little boy picked him to take home! He was so happy, he didn't know what to do. Not only did SpongeBob get to go home with Connor, his friend Patrick came too. SpongeBob had gotten exactly what he'd wished for.
At home, Connor put his two goldfish in a sparkly, new tank with pretty plants to play in and colorful gravel along the bottom. Every day, Connor's mom fed Patrick & SpongeBob and talked in a happy voice to them. They played on and around the plants in the tank and searched the gravel for treasure. They were the happiest fish in the world.
One day, SpongeBob didn't feel much like swimming around. He thought he'd just stay on the bottom, in the gravel, where it was comfortable and where he felt safe. SpongeBob knew he was coming to the end of his time in the tank. He wasn't sad. He had spent the happiest days of his life in his tank with his friend Patrick, all thanks to his boy Connor. SpongeBob only hoped Connor wouldn't be too sad when it when it was time to leave the tank. The morning came when it was time for SpongeBob to go. He said goodbye to Patrick and Connor, who was still sleeping, and lay down in the corner of the tank to wait.
Later that morning Connor's dad took SpongeBob to the river, where all good goldfish go, and set him free. Spongebob had fulfilled his lifelong dream of making somebody happy and it was all thanks to the little boy who took a chance on an old, not cute, goldfish.
Translation: We got a bum goldfish from WalMart. He only lived a week. We flushed him.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Night & Day
My oldest son, Wesley, is the smart one. He is quiet, laid back and extremely curious. He'll seize on an idea and have to know EVERYthing about it, to the point where everyone around him is rolling their eyes and wanting him to shut UP already.
Connor is the sporty one. He's brave, imaginative and extremely competitive. He throws himself into things and doesn't spare a thought for consequences.
Today we got a call telling us Wesley was accepted into the International Baccalaureate middle years program. It's a prestigous magent program for kids with high IQ's who have demonstrated advanced critical thinking skills. Connor, on the other hand, got in trouble for starting (and winning) a burping contest in the cafeteria.
I can safely say, with only trace elements of sarcasm, that I am very proud of them both. The world can never have too many smart, thoughtful people and a well timed burp? Well, shit, that's priceless.
Connor is the sporty one. He's brave, imaginative and extremely competitive. He throws himself into things and doesn't spare a thought for consequences.
Today we got a call telling us Wesley was accepted into the International Baccalaureate middle years program. It's a prestigous magent program for kids with high IQ's who have demonstrated advanced critical thinking skills. Connor, on the other hand, got in trouble for starting (and winning) a burping contest in the cafeteria.
I can safely say, with only trace elements of sarcasm, that I am very proud of them both. The world can never have too many smart, thoughtful people and a well timed burp? Well, shit, that's priceless.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
The Dr. Phil Thing... or, How's That Working For Ya?
Connor has periods of mild to moderate screaming crazy. Times where he absolutely will. not. listen- to mom, to dad, or to reason. For those special times we have an ace in the hole, a trump card or some other card playing analogy for when you just want it over already. That would be Dr. Phil.
Years ago, Connor & I were at home watching Dr. Phil. The topic that day was Out Of Control Kids, complete with video of a small boy howling, banshee style. Connor was transfixed, he looked at me & without the slightest bit of self realization said "That kid is BAD". Seizing the teachable moment I told him he acted the same way sometimes and how would he like me to invite the Dr. Phil show to come vidoetape him during one of his freak outs. This was not acceptable to Connor. I'm not sure whether or not it was thinking of people watching him & judging him or just deep resentment of being exploited for ratings, he never really said. Maybe Dr. Phil just scares the cheesy old shit out of him.
From then on whenever he starts to get out of control, when the center becomes wobbly, we will ask him "Do you want me to call Dr. Phil?" "Do you?". The result is always the same "Noooooo!" and a run to the couch or other place of safety and immediate adoption of Good Boy Posture.
Full disclosure; during one pre bedtime negotiation/freakout, Chris MAY have pretended to call Dr. Phil from his cell phone and then ALLEGEDLY gone to the front door, knocked on it & yelled "WHERE IS THAT BOY?". Allegedly.
Don't you judge me.
Years ago, Connor & I were at home watching Dr. Phil. The topic that day was Out Of Control Kids, complete with video of a small boy howling, banshee style. Connor was transfixed, he looked at me & without the slightest bit of self realization said "That kid is BAD". Seizing the teachable moment I told him he acted the same way sometimes and how would he like me to invite the Dr. Phil show to come vidoetape him during one of his freak outs. This was not acceptable to Connor. I'm not sure whether or not it was thinking of people watching him & judging him or just deep resentment of being exploited for ratings, he never really said. Maybe Dr. Phil just scares the cheesy old shit out of him.
From then on whenever he starts to get out of control, when the center becomes wobbly, we will ask him "Do you want me to call Dr. Phil?" "Do you?". The result is always the same "Noooooo!" and a run to the couch or other place of safety and immediate adoption of Good Boy Posture.
Full disclosure; during one pre bedtime negotiation/freakout, Chris MAY have pretended to call Dr. Phil from his cell phone and then ALLEGEDLY gone to the front door, knocked on it & yelled "WHERE IS THAT BOY?". Allegedly.
Don't you judge me.
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