What the heck?

June 4th? That's the last time I posted?

Am I blog fading? Taking a long, slow spiral to non-postland?

No.

Have I been hospitalized or have I experienced a painful demise of key electronics?

No.

Have I been working on some really exciting new project that I'm just waiting for the right time to reveal?

No, not really. Sadly. That would have been a great excuse, but no, the reason I haven't posted isn't as exciting. It's my kids. They are fine, but active. And loud. And home.

We are planning a special vacation later this summer, one of those when personal history meets new adventures meets a really beautiful location with a lot of people who are dear to us. But this vacation is sucking up all our fun money (not that we had a lot of that to begin with), and we can't really afford many fun jaunts in the meantime. So the kids and I have been home. Together. Doesn't that sound like fun? (It can be, but usually it's not. And, before you ask, it doesn't equal a really clean house either)

So I have been home and distracted by three very different children- one of them likes to watch reality shows with me (Oddities is our newest one);one likes to make videos of him playing video games; and one likes to read, and if I sit down to read my books at the same time, she smiles. To her, this is spending quality time together.


We have been hanging out at home. except when the boys played baseball. The long, hot and painful (to me) season just ended. Luke didn't have his greatest year playing wise, and Noah is starting to figure out how to  play well and hates to lose. Luke was a great sport who didn't have a good season; Noah was a poor sport who had a pretty good season that ended with a heartbreaking nail-biting final game.

Luke has moved on to football, Noah has moved on to memorizing everything about Indiana Jones. And me/ I'm opening up the projects that have sat dormant for a couple of months. Re-reading them, re-editing them and maybe one of these days one of them will morph into one of those exciting new projects that I can share.

Always a silver lining...

This kid has a LOUD mouth.  Most kids do. The trick, of course, is to teach them when to use it properly at the highest volume and when to keep it shut. Or whisper. I would even be happy with a sustained inside voice.

This kid also has a very colorful vocabulary. I mean that exactly like you think. I don't know where he gets it from. *blink blink*

He does usually use the words correctly, and often in a creative string which is one of those uniquely  parental Cringe/Pride moments.

When he is outside, like at a football game, loud is encouraged. Creative is also encouraged, but not cussing. He seems to be aware that there is never a time at school to use the most raunchy of his language, so shouting ways that the players can knock the poo out of one another is about as foul as he gets.

But at home, that is a different story.

Yesterday, I told him to stop playing video games and do his homework.

This was not his favorite idea.

I walked away, he continued to play. Then Bekah told him the same thing.

This was not his favorite method of instruction.

He opened up that loud, big, effective mouth and shouted,"(The worst thing a six year old can probably say)!!! You are NOT the boss of me!!!"

He tossed the controller on the couch and launched himself toward the perceived safety of his room.

As I took off chasing him, I noticed- through the open windows- two men holding clip boards and dressed nicely in black golf shirts and khaki pants. In unison they executed a perfectly coordinated about face in our driveway.

"I don't care that you just saved us from door-to-door salesmen, You are so grounded from wii!!"

Problem Solved! Maybe...

I have been fretting for months. Not the economy, or war, or illness or famine or anything that is globally important and actually deserves to be fretted about. I'm not that deep.

It's the drop off lane.

The drop off lane has caused me great angst over the years, and this year, with my oldest heading off to high school, I was going to have to learn to navigate yet another parking lot. The worst one, because not all of the drivers there have my experience...and yet, they "own" the school. I'm a visitor.

To further complicate matters, there is construction at the school (a new performing arts center- let me brag on about our school embracing the arts another day). Because of this, the usual drop off system was blocked and the replacement one was sure to be a nightmare.

Recap: Three kids, three different schools, three different drop off lanes with three different sets of rules. One mom with her head about to explode.

After much discussion and debate the family came to a solution.

Bye Luke and Bekah! Have a nice day! Enjoy that bus!

This solution left me with my head intact, and only one kid to drive. Sure, he could take the bus, too, but I  kind of like our time together in the morning, and his school has a well monitored drop off lane. S'all good.

Or it will be tomorrow when we actually USE the drop off lane.

One time, when I was fretting out-loud about the drop off lane, my friend Beckett suggested that I walk him in. Avoid the lane!

So on the ride to school this morning I asked him, " Drop off lane or walk you in?"

"Can you walk me in today, I'm a little nervous, then drop me off the rest of the time?"

Sounded logical, so I agreed.

 And then regretted when I rounded the corner to the school. Apparently, this was the preferred method of most of the parents. The amply spaced parking lot was overflowing into a nearby field. It looked like Bieber was playing the lunchroom. Kids, parents all flocking en masse to the front doors.

"Buddy, look! There is no one in the drop off lane! We can zip in there..."

He didn't let me finish.

"GRASS! Off-roading in the mini-van! Wohoo!!!"

And I did, because I am a sucker for a clean cut 1st grader.

If it's been a long time since you dropped a kid off at elementary school, let me share something: On the first day of school there is a subset of parents who put the kid on the bus at home, then RACE to school to greet the same kid as he gets off the bus. The parent clicks a picture of the dazed child emerging from the bus to see the same people he left  half an hour ago.

I'm not going to poke fun at these parents...and not because I recognized a few friends in the mix...ok, exactly for that reason. I will just say, I don't quite understand it, but if it works for them- brava! I'm sure these friends will fill me in on the why they do this. It just seems kinda Helicopter Parent- In-Training to me. But hey, I do a lot of stuff that leaves them scratching their heads, so let's go back to "whatever works."

Noah and I parked (almost back at our house), made the trek through the field, past the dog poop, past the playground, and up the sidewalk. I gave him a kiss (and he kissed me back because he hasn't been told it's not cool ,yet), " Go! Learn something!"

And he was gone. Into first grade.

And I trekked back to the car, alone. Smiling. It was a long trek, so I probably looked a little crazy smiling the whole time, but the kids were back in class. I had a long walk to think about the kitchen that will remain clean until dinner. The lack of television aimed at kids. The absence of arguments about their activity choices and neglected chores. It has been a long, fairly boring summer at our house. School never looked so good to any of us.

I thought about all of that, and still wasn't at my car.

Stopped for a breath at the halfway point. I can see the car...

And now I am home, like a lot of other parents, sharing pictures of our kids headed off to the first day of school in the new year. Pictures that show them freshly scrubbed, wearing the outfits that showoff the best of their personalities. Snapshots that capture nerves and excitement and the dread of having mom snap a picture of them, again, in the same spot she has snapped pictures at the beginning of every school year.

Have an amazing school year, kids! Go! Learn something!

Back to Back

Tomorrow I go for my first physical therapy session. At last count I had about a dozen different ( or similar) offers to whack my pelvis back into place. How kind. I think I'll go the physical therapy route for now, but I'll keep your suggestions in mind.

The current meds seem to work ok. I trade full pain coverage for full brain function now that I am off the vicodin, but it's a price I am willing to pay. I need my brain to work properly. It lets me handle things like this morning.

I came in the house, after dropping Beks off at school, to find Brian in full rant about the furnace. He told me yesterday that it wasn't working right and to listen to it during the day, which I did. And it functioned properly all day. However, not this morning. Now we had no heat.

It's not that it is bitter cold out, it's 41 degrees right now. But a broken furnace, one that keeps running but not engaging the fan, is not something we like to wait on. All things house are my domain. Clogged toilet to appliance repair-- my job. A hook rips out of the wall- I repair it. A cup of cocoa drops on the carpet? I haul out the cleaner. Lock repair, wall painting,computer rebooting, new microwave installation- all these things are on my Job Description.

Calling the furnace repair guy is also my job.. and normally I would do it when Brian was gone, but he was still here. I wanted to get on this as soon as possible and 7:45 AM was good enough for me. But apparently Brian was not satisfied with the description I was giving the man on the phone. He kept yelling the words he wanted to hear. While he was sitting on the can.With the door open. 10 feet from me.

" The heat pump isn't working properly, and the fan on the AC unit won't shut off but the furnace fan won't run" I said.

" TELL HIM THAT SOMETHING LOUD WAS RUNNING ALL NIGHT! I'M SURPISED THE NEIGHBORS DIDN"T LODGE A COMPLAINT" screamed the man with his pants around his ankles.

" I turned the thermostat to " emergency" but the furnace isn't clicking on" I said trying to walk away from the powder room.

" TELL HIM HE WAS JUST OUT HERE TO CHECK THE FURNACE FOR THE WINTER AND THIS BETTER BE UNDER WARRANTY!" Pants now pulled up but talking over running water.

Then the guy on the phone totally cracked me up: " wow, your phones are great I can hear everything!"

But he sent a guy out right away. The same guy that came a month ago as I was puking my guts out in the kitchen sink. The part was under warranty and within an hour we had heat again.I just have to wonder what our file says . Maybe " Crazy family but pay on time".

Brian was also upset because he has had to log onto his AOL account all week. For some reason his cookie keeps getting deleted.. but I can't explain this to him because he doesn't understand it. He wants to sit with his coffee, after doing his morning Bible reading, and check his email. Apparently typing his password is an added step he doesn't want. I don't use AOL. It isn't Susan Intuitive. I can't explain that either because he likes it, for some reason, and wants it to work the way he wants it to work when he wants it to work. " Get 'er done, Bunny."

* pause to explain.. That is my family nickname, given by him many years ago because he thinks my feet in socks look like little bunnies. I don't see it, I have very small feet and bunnies have proportionately large feet, but it stuck and now everyone uses it. Not you. Please don't."*

The other drama I was juggling is that Noah seems to have picked up a cold somewhere. I say that like the source is a mystery but if I was a Betting Mom I would narrow it down to his first statement when I picked him up from school the other day. You know, his first day back after being sick for 2 weeks ? He gave me a big hug and screamed " Lana sneezed in my FACE!" ( he obviously gets his sense of subtlety from his father). Now we are on day one of a cold. The day where he is a bit tired, a bit grumpy , a bit sneezy and a bit dopey. I hope we don't have to throw in another dwarf and call him a Doc. I probably would have kept him home even if I wasn't opening the door for the furnace guy at the same time I should have been driving him to study the letter B and cough into his sleeve. Not a big drama, but if he gets worse, and really sick again, it will turn to big drama.

But I get to escape tomorrow to go to Physical Therapy. Right at this moment it sounds like a trip to a spa. Kid free, me and paid strangers concentrating on my problems. I suppose that tells me I need to get out, need to distance myself from My To Do list of home repair, child raising, and husband PMS wrangling. But doing something to help stop my pain so I can fully concentrate on, as well as develop, the more interesting things in my life will be as refreshing and renewing as a spa day.Of course I have never been and will probably be moaning about it in a day, but let me live with this image for now. Tomorrow I get to get back to my back and the promise of that fills me with hope. Hope that I get to scratch that project off my To Do list!

A Magical Minivan Tour

We have already determined that I don't listen to kiddy music in the car. Even if Kiddies are present. I can't do it and the bleeding in my ears that radiodisney causes is distracting.

Many time when I run errands I put on the radio ( not XM, just regular free radio) sometimes my errands are about as long as the commercial breaks. If I ever need a tanning salon, weight loss program, botox, hemorrhoid repair or cheap car insurance-- I know where to go. Sometimes I catch a few songs. Usually the same ones I heard on my errands the day before. Wanna talk giving me hell?

Yesterday I had to drive Bekah to confirmation at church. Ordinarily we carpool with another family so that we only have to drive one direction ( 12 minutes from our subdivision). Said Child had strep, so it was me and my own children in the Mystery Machine.

After our customary preflight 15 point check, I flipped on the radio expecting to hear the creepy Celsius Tannery commercial ( someone MUST tell me how skin damage is supposed to be sensual) or how the Voice on the Radio didn't need to shave anymore. But no, there was actual music! And not a song I had heard on my morning school run. My top 40 station is going outside the play list. Hope no one loses their job!

As the first song ended, just a couple of miles from home, I heard something that caused me to flashback to college. Joan Jett? JOAN JETT? No, this must be some remake.. Did the Faux Bros do a cover of I Love Rock and Roll? Please say no.. but there she was…. In all her chick rocker glory belting it out just like she did when I was in college :

I saw him dancin there by the record machine
I knew he must a been about seventeen
The beat was goin strong
Playin my favorite song
An I could tell it wouldn’t be long
Till he was with me, yeah me, singin


When I say flashback, I mean I was dancing and screaming along with Joan and the Blackhearts just like I would have at the college bar… I mean, you know, if I had gone to a bar in college. Like I did in my dorm room. All alone. On a study break.

I also mean real memory flashback: I remembered my friends from that time-- some I have kept up with-- some are eternally 21 in my head. Images of my life at that time flashed before me as well. The clothes, the foods, the activities were as vivid as if they had just occurred. I felt the emotions of the stressors then, the uncertain future but the wonder that anything was possible.

The lyrics, which usually fail me, were right there at my disposal -- front of the brain ready to be belted out. And belt them I did.

Before you give it to me for dancing while driving, I was at a long traffic light when I did the serious headbang/hairflip move. I think competitive car dancers get extra points for that since it requires not only a high degree of difficulty but you must be able to banish all modesty. It is not a move for the shy and inhibited.

None of this behavior would have occurred if the normal carpool scenario was in place. The kid we drive is really nice and I like her a lot. We generally talk about LOST and I put on K-LOVE since, well, we are driving to church. Yeah, this is a little two faced of me. I’ll own that. But I do have it preset and listen to it often. Well, sometimes.

In the back seat 4 yr old Noah was catching on to the chorus and singing along. And apparently he learned the hairflip/ head banger move too. Love that kid .

In the front seat, 12 yr old Bekah did not slide low in the seat. She did give me a perfunctory eye roll, but her heart wasn’t into it. She LIKED the music. MY music. When I started a quick history of the Girl Rocker who is Joan Jett and the implications she had on the music scene in the early ‘80’s. How she was mainstream but gritty. I got a “ hush I’m trying to listen”. I love that kid.

And how was she rewarded for tolerating a mom who was channeling her inner party girl? The very next song was one of her all time favorites-- and it’s not on the top 40 lineup right now.

SQUEEEEEEL! “It’s Taylor Swift, Teardrops On My Guitar! They never play this and it's the song that made me a fan!” Usually a declaration like this would be followed by “ turn it up!”. But, it was already Rocking The Minivan loud.

Miraculously, just as we arrived at church her song ended. PERFECT timing.

As we pulled away to head home, the radio began to play a song that is currently in the top 10 lineup. I do adore it because it reminds me of my gal pals. Beyonce’s Single Ladies. As we drove home I sang and danced along to this current favorite song. One that I know I will hear in 20 years and flashback to memories of the women that shared my life with me. To a time when my kids were young and we spent hours shuttling them back and forth. I will remember the times I spent messing around with the kids in the car. I wondered if they will hear it and have it remind them of me. I looked in my rearview mirror at Noah. He had his eyes closed as he sang along.. To every single word---- bopping his head to the music.

( For Bekah: my source of estrogen inspiration)