Happy New Year!

From the Toad:

From the Howler:

From Little Girls with Sparklers at Midnight:

From the Stupid Cat (the One Who Got Caught):

If Your Dollhouse Becomes Infested

Best Reaction to this kind of infestation:

*Photos by Howler

Be Afraid...Be VERY Afraid

I think the PTA is, anyway.

So, tonight, during "new business," I did mention the food thing. I wasn't ranting, and as God as my witness, I needed a good vent-it-out-fight. (More on that lovely fiasco later.)

I didn't get it.

I sat there, participating like a good little Stepford, when the opportunity to mention it came up. I was careful with my words.

But I very clearly stated that, as a parent, if I were to be told that I had to bring in veggies and 100% fruit juice, but the PTA can sponsor a party for a classroom and provide WINGS, and FRUIT PUNCH (their emphasis, not mine) I'd certainly be ignoring that little nutrition guideline. (I'm a rebel that way. *snark*)

Of course, I told 'em that I personally do not have an issue with it (my kid don't eat no stinkin' pizza anyway) but if we, as a PTA are going to set out guidelines like this, then, when making a decision on a party of any sort, the PTA should be following them.

One lone idiot said the PTA has always provided pizza parties for the kids...and I corrected him. I personally do not have a problem with pizza, wings, fruit punch, and ice cream, BUT if the PTA is providing it, the menu should read, "Pizza, veggie tray with dip, 100% fruit juice, and ice cream."

I reminded them (how basic is this concept?) that wings, no matter HOW they are prepared, are NOT a nutritious food. And fruit punch = Hawaiian Punch or Kool-Aid.

While I am enjoying my lack of invisibility, it's unnerving to sit in a room full of people you don't know and have them all suddenly get a look of dawning understanding on their faces.

Even earlier in the meeting, when I got the chance to remind them (gently and nicely *gag* of course) that NO BODY wants to feel invisible and NO BODY will come back to a meeting or volunteer for an event again if they feel unseen and unappreciated.

It's almost creepy.

My mother is predicting that I will be the PTA President next year. "I nominated, I will not run. If elected, I will not serve." Period. I'll stay in the cheap seats and tell 'em how they're doing.

The Fat Virgin

It's Christmas.

And, of course, I bought myself a new Christmas CD--one specifically for the car, because I keep forgetting to take some to the car for my listening pleasure.

It's got a rockin' good rendition of "Jingle Bells" on it. Listen to it here (because you know I can't do this techno-marvel stuff).

She really likes it. We listen to it every day on the way to school, and the on the way home.

Tonight, we listened to it twice on the way to AWANAS. Daddy was with us, and since he has a cold, he's not quite into the whole "Jingle Bells" really fast thing.

We're driving along, the song ends. She's breathless from trying to sing it. As I drive past a house that has a blo-mold nativity in it's yard, she says, "It's good they put out the fat virgin."

Since she spends a lot of her time pointing out interesting things I should be noticing, I had to ask her to repeat herself. "You know, the fat virgin of Jingle Bells. It's really fun."

Ohhhhhhh.

I'm still not ever going to look at a blo-mold nativity set the same way again.

Testing...Testing...

So, it's been pointed out that I haven't updated about the Howler's electrocardiogram etc.

The tester at the hospital said that it would be sent to, I believe, Geisinger and would be reviewed by a pediatric cardiologist.

Our pede's office, when I called, said that the tests came back completely normal.

To clarify, I asked: Is there a murmur or not?

No murumur. Everything is normal.

Dayum. I was right about this too. I tried telling them that it was the asthma making noise in her chest that sounded like a murmur. And so it seems.

I'm not dragging her in there now, during cold-and-flu season, to talk with them about it. BUT if she does need drug in there, we will be discussing it. Bare minimum, come spring, her birthday, and her yearly checkup, we will be discussing it then, as well.

I also don't think that the singulair is such a good thing. She seems to be on it for 12-14 days then we start hearing complaints about tummy aches, headaches, she whimpers in her sleep, and she just looks drained.

I seriously think it's time to ask for her to be seen by a pediatric pulmonologist again. I hate the thought of it (especially with our crappy insurance) but there's no point to a preventative if she can't take it every day, especially during this time of year. There's also no point in her taking a medication that gives her side effects that negatively impact her life (and ours.)

In the meantime, I'm following my own advice: Follow yer gut. The doc may be a highly educated, trained professional, but I live with this small noisy girl, and I am an expert in that field.

Why It Snowed

It's the proverbial "hell freezing over."

And I mean it.

I told the Toad that starting in January, he will begin paying rent. Not optional. I named a reasonable figure ($50/month--or $25/a pay) that doesn't EVEN come close to covering the cost of his continuing to live here.

Apparently, at the word, "RENT," he had an epiphany of his own.

He's agreed to work a few overnight shifts (still complaining about them, though.) He's shovelled the snow-covered sidewalks and brushed off my van. Without being asked. At 6:30 AM.

Be afraid. This, I fear, is one of the signs given in the Book of Revelations about the End of Time.

"It shall come to pass, that the sloth shall move quickly and exert effort on behalf of someone not-himself. He shall be helpful and respectful, and the righteous will quake with fear." Inert. 4:15

Okay, maybe not Revelations, but at least, I think, it's in Inertiates in the Apocrypha.

It also says:

"And truly I say to you, buggy things shall come forth and the stench of the whole shall cause retching in heaven, then the earth shall move and the sloth shall make himself, and his cave, clean." Inert. 7:2

and

"Yea, though I live in squalor and move not for man nor beast, I will fear the landlord. I will make ready the way of the shrew and her enforcer." Inert. 1:1

and

"In those days, the carpet shall be seen, the dust shall be pledged and his robes shall be washed in the neptune." Inert. 15:9

As you can see, there is much going on this holiday season in Mumpleland.

"And the Toaddites shall come to know peace by the power of Febreeze." Inert. 15:32

I Said A Bad Word

And I scared the Toad. Apparently, I have inadvertently stumbled onto the single most horrifying word he could imagine.

It inspired him to agree to work some overnights. He's been motivated to change his availability at work, in general. It's motivated him to come home from said overnight shift and shovel the sidewalks (it had snowed like the dickens that night) AND brush off my van because he knew we'd be leaving for church in a few hours.

It changed his attitude.

He cleaned his room (a whole other post in itself!)

Yeppers. Fear of God. In a word, uttered by me, in an unthreatening, unangry tone--a serious, no-holds barred, I really mean it tone, but not an angry one.

The word?

Can you guess it?













Rent.

Choose Your Poison

So, I've ranted about the PTA before. Now, I've got me some serious stupidity going on...and I've GOT. TO. STOP. IT.

I don't look for this kind of thing--it finds me. (And I'm not going to mention the thing about the prez not doing what she says she'll be doing--but it's got my name on it, and so I'm the one that looks like I'm not doing it. That's a rude awakening looking to happen. WOW. I'm gonna go invisible again by spring, I'm almost sure of it.)

Anyway, the PTA and the principal have stated repeatedly, and more forcefully this year than last, that ALL snacks brought in or sent in for parties, etc, MUST. BE. HEALTHY.

This month's newsletter repeats this information in the letter from the Prez (and I'm calling her that because that's how she likes to have her *title* pronounced. OMG! Grow up!)

They're saying it nicely, but there's a tone behind it, as in "We're trying to be nice here, but we ARE going to become the Food Police soon if you all don't straighten up and follow our rules."

What I have a problem with is that they are policing the parents, parental involvement, and being critical of parental judgement, regarding food choices we make for our children.

What's got my blood pressure up is that, in the very same newsletter, there are NO LESS than 3 references to *prizes and fun things* the PTA is PROVIDING for the children that show a food hyporcracy: One class earned a party that was Domino's Pizza, WINGS, ICE CREAM, and FRUIT PUNCH. That was on the immediately next page from the message telling us to provide fruit trays, veggie trays, cheese & crackers, 100% fruit juice or water for the parties. Later in the newsletter, it tells me that there are no less than 11 classrooms that will be receiving DONUT HOLES as a prize for their parents filling in and returning to the school PTA surveys. I don't think they mean little poufs of empty air = donut holes, either.

Add this to the fact that my own Howler is buying individual serving sizes of CHEETOS, CHIPS, and FRUIT ROLL UPS. Granted, she has (on occasion *snark*) ingested these things at home and abroad, I HAVE read the contents and KNOW that HFCS, RED 40, AND fats of all shapes and sizes are in these things. Not to mention SALT. Ever read the nutritional information on BAKED Lay's Potato Chips? The things may be lower in saturated fats, but they have MORE SALT and other bad-for-you things in them than regular Lays. Even in choosing the *healthy* option, you may be saving yourself some clogged arteries, but you're risking high blood pressure and a myriad of other life-threatening things at the same time.

I don't lose sleep or make myself crazy about food. And I don't care if the school is pushing for *Healthy* because I've seen the statistics on obesity in children. But I really don't think that it's the place of the PTA to demand that I comply with the USDA Healthy Choices partyline, while they're holding donut holes on strings in front of my child to entice her to perform.

I honestly think that if the PTA can provide donut holes, wings, and fruit punch to the children in the school, they're really NOT in a position to tell me that I can't bring in brownies for a PTA sponsored party. I think the PTA needs to either put up, or shut up. They don't get to have it both ways--and now that I've got the PROOF (it's in writing the dolts.)

I think they're going to have to "Choose yer poison, and eat it too."

Happy Thanksgiving!

Never Better

The Howler had an electrocardiogram and EKG today. The chest X-ray is old hat, considering she had one last February in the adventure that is pulmonary function testing, so it's hardly worth mentioning.

She was a trooper for the whole thing. She was nervous because she didn't know what to expect, but as soon as she started talking to Rocky (who did the cardiogram and EKG) she relaxed. He assured her that he could get her a shot "if [she] wanted one," and she, ever sassy, assured him that she did NOT want one.

He talked to her about what would happen, and showed her the stuff he would use. She warmed up when he told her that "of course" she would see the "cartoon" he would be making of her heart.

He explained everything, every step of the way. He explained what she was seeing on the screen, and he even managed to print a picture (apparently, the newer machines don't even come with that option available!) of her heart.

He explained what an aorta is, and agreed with her that it's a pretty name. He explained what the "horns" were, and listened to her tell a story or two about "a funny thing that happened at school the other day." (Don't ask me what those funny things were, I don't remember.)

She proudly carried that picture back to school today, and showed several people. She'll show it to several more tomorrow.

We should know next week what the tests show. (btw, I didn't mention it, but they DID hear a murmur two weeks ago. That's what we're checking. It's faint, and what the pede said was "grade 1, low low low" but you know, her mom really needs to know that it's "low low low" and not a big big big worry...)

Also, Mrs N gave us a message from Mrs O regarding her asthma in gym class: The change in meds is definitely helping--she hardly coughs at all during gym class now.

So, all things considered, we have quite a bit of thanks to be giving tomorrow (and every day.) If you can forgive my mushy mom moment.

Christmas Carols

From the mouths of Howlers:

"Silent night, Holy Christ...."

Wait, Mommy, Daddy, that's not right, is it?

Try giving her the correct lyrics without laughing out loud.

Balance

So much more of this blog is about the Howler. It makes it seem like a) I don't like the boy I spawned almost 20 years ago, and b) that he's not nearly as great to be humerous about.

He mentioned that today. Said (albeit sarcastically) that I must not love him as much. In truth, I've been trying to be less critical (as in "We're about to reach critical temperatures and will blow up in 3 minutes") of him in general, and, the most annoying (and humerous) things about him might be things he'd rather I not tell the 8 people who read this blog.

So, Toadly, get yer own blog if you decide at any later date that you want yer privacy. You're fair game as of now, and I plan on using my powers for evil. But I mean that in a good way.

First, I'd like to point out that the highly intelligent Toad decided to change his availability at work. Then, promptly began complaining (quietly, I'll give him credit for that) that he's not making as much money as he used to be.

Keeping in mind that while he's working fewer hours, he's spending more time and ever hiding in Ass Caverns. There's not as much stench, but this may simply be our nasal passages giving up in despair. It's hard to tell, really.

Second, he's taken it upon himself to purchase (with his reduced earnings) less take-out food. Apparently, the back seat and trunk of his car are now so overloaded with crumpled take-out bags that he has no where else to put the empties. Actually throwing the garbage away would be like admitting defeat, I think.

Anyway, he's buying frozen Chinese dinners for 4. He's eating them himself. The Howler asked today, "Why do you eat that stuff?" and I answered for him. Sorry, my control issues are getting the better of me lately...where was I? Oh, yeah. I answered for him, "Well, honey, it's full of good things like red 40 and high fructose corn syrup, trans fats, and other things. The stuff that's sooooo very good for his health. That's why."

He reads the package--"Hey. It does NOT have red 40 or that other stuff."

"Oh, yes, but it does."

"Wait. Yes, it does. But no RED 40! What's hydrolyzed corn gluten?"

I told him it was stuff to plug up his arteries. He countered with the idea that "Gluten is the stuff that makes bread dough stick together." in a *duh to you* kind of voice.

I reminded him, "If it makes dough stick together, what do you think it's doing to YOU?"

He stopped talking to me. That means that I won this round, too.

'Ear, 'Ear

Saw the pediatrician on Friday to check the Howler's ear.


The ear is still attached.


And it's healing well. She was disappointed that she did have to miss the soccer game on Saturday, and she wasn't happy about the shower news: no shower until Monday. (They also changed her preventative asthma meds, and hopefully, there will be no more coughing from taking it. They switched her to a non-steriodal that is actually better for her kind of asthma.)


But it's not infected (as I feared) and it's not as gross looking as it was.


There is a scab inside her ear, where it apparently was cut (or burst open) when she whacked it in the first place.


Tonight, she said it itches "inside." I had to get a Qtip and "scratch it" for her. It was gross what came out of her ear! Dried blood, damp from the bath. Ewwww.


She's fairly happy, though, because it's healing, and she has one. more. day. until she can shower.


Today, she also played in the leaves (having first helped rake them) at Auntie Em's. And she and her beloved Missy, of the Wolf Clan, got to play together practically all day.

They're writing a story. The Howler is "author girl" and Missy is "illustrator girl." It's the cutest thing to hear her talking about this story they're writing, and how it's really a play and they're going to act it out.

She literally shared her supper with Missy, and then they danced to "The Farmer in the Dell" and "Skip to My Lou" turned up to eleven. Then Dude Sr called and they went to the Wolf Den for toasted marshmallows. How cool is that?

She's about the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Don't Hate Me Because I'm Beautiful!

Yes, it's blonde, with purple *hi lites*, and it sparkles.

Oooo.

Delayed Picturification

I know I promised to post pics of the newly Hannahfied Howler, but life intervened.


Last night, right before bathtime, she spun, fell and whacked her ear. Said ear was bleeding profusely and a trip to the ER was warranted.


She was, of course, panicked at the thought of stitches, but in all honesty, the idea of the ER itself freaked her out a little bit, too.


As she so happily informs everyone who calls today to ask, "no stitches," but she did get glued.


I was proud of how well she held still, even though the sterile water was cold, and the glue burned. The worst part was where her Mumpledom showed and the one tech was, for about 10 seconds, glued TO her.


Of course, after we were home, she also quickly figured out how to milk the situation for as much ice cream, and gentle care as she could.


So, first, I present pictures of her gashed ear from last night:


And from today:

Hair Today...Hannah Tomorrow

So, we had to get some crap to continue to survive in our house today. And the Howler went with us. We managed to avoid the dreaded toy department, but we did have to buy her some new clothes.

Let me explain. We don't do "traditional" back-to-school clothes shopping. Mostly because the Spawn have managed to have PLENTY of clothing that fits, and is okay to wear in public when that time rolls 'round. And I'm too cheap to buy them a bunch of crap they don't need, just because they will begin spending time NOT annoying the crap out of me. I go through their dresser drawers and closet, decide what fits, and is unfit, then buy them enough to get them through until the cooler weather sets in, and I'm forced, again in so short a time, go through their clothes again and make those same decisions.

And we've hit that time again. So, today, while out-and-about, I made some selections from the girls' department. And the Howler was pleased.

Until she noticed that the cheap-o rack that held hair clips (which she is once again refusing to allow me to administer) and tights also held the dreaded Hannah Montana WIG. Not a hair piece. A WIG.

And the one she so desperately needed was the one with a "sequin headband."

It was $5.00.

And it now lives with us.

I am outspoken against things that hoochie-up little girls, and quite honestly, I wonder at my own sanity for agreeing to purchase this thing, but she wanted it, it's a dress up accessory, much the way my shoes and hair clips are, and it was cheap.

I also bought her two pairs of "animal print" leggings. She liked them; she is a wild animal; and she needed a few pairs.

Pictures of the Howler-as-Hannah to be posted tommorow.

Ahhh, Yes!

So, I had to be out the door for a test this morning, and my brother, "Unkajooz," kindly agreed to come over and haul the Howler to school.

I had everything ready for him, including forcing her to brush her hair (you know how cruel I am to her). She was eating breakfast, and I repeatedly said to her, "Don't give Unkajooz any crap. Just be good."

Apparently, she was very well behaved. No problems.

This one thing got him, though: When she was done eating her breakfast, she placed her spoon (but not the bowl) in the dishwasher. He asked, "Is that dishwasher safe?"

Her answer?





Wait for it.















"Yeah. I think it's pretty safe in there."

Field Trippin'

I've been told that the Howler's class will be taking a field trip to a farm w/market this week.

Said farm is, literally spitting distance from my Aunt's house. (Actually, the farm & market are at the bottom of the big hill; my aunt lives at the top.)

The other night, the phone rang. The Howler scurried to answer it. It was my (our?) aunt. The Howler launches into playing 20 questions--all about said farm and my aunt's knowledge of it.

Then the Howler says, "Well, my class is going there on a field trip next week. Do you know what a field trip is? We're going to be AT the farm. I've already asked my teacher if we can all walk up to your house to say 'hell0' when we're done at the farm. Will you be home?"

The image of 60 rambunctious first graders gathered around my aunt's door, shouting, "Hi!" just cracks me up.

And, the Howler is about the sweetest thing for thinking that her entire class should be friendly to her aunt. One more reason my Girl is fan-flippin'-tastic.

OPD part 2

Have I mentioned how much my Sweetie does. NOT. like. dogs? No?

Well, we have now managed to be in some sense, part owner of Gracie. She's a beagle/barrel mix. She comes to visit us whenever she's
A) out
B) bored
C) needing a new place to poop
D) romping through OP garbage (which was, btw, set out 48 hours earlier than the company's scheduled pickup)

Of course, NONE of this makes my Sweetie happy. He complains, even when he doesn't have to pick up said poop or garbage.

I am beginning to think that if Gracie could reach the door bell and speak, though, she'd be standing on my porch, nose pressed to glass, saying, "Can the Howler come out to play?"

Open House

Tonight was the rescheduled Open House.

It wasn't so bad--I mean, parking was Hell, but when isn't it?

Seriously, I insist that we get there as early as possible--which for us is about 6:06 pm (it usually runs from 6-8pm.)

Last year, I was astounded by the PTA Membership Committee's representatives--they ignored EVERY ONE except each other. They didn't even turn and look at anyone who approached their table. They had NO information to share, except with each other, and basically, I threw my check and paper with our names and contact information on the table, sighed heavily and beat my retreat.

This year, they had the Chairperson AND the Treasurer sitting at the table, chatting and being friendly with ALL comers. It was absolutely amazing to me--apparently, they HAVE heard what I've been saying. Go figure. They even talked TO me when I went up. HAH!

I ran into one of the two people who did speak to me during my invisible phase and I told her they spoke to me--where even friendly--when I paid my dues. She laughed, and I said that they've apparently gotten my message. She said she hadn't noticed a change--yet--but expected to. LOL.

I use my powers for good, not evil.

Anyway, Miss Howler is doing well--she's quiet and well behaved. You know, not anything at all like the demon seed we live with. She reads, she co operates...I assume that this will now change (she heard Mrs. N say this.)

I talked with Mrs N about the J, the Priss. They don't have contact, really, except for what they call "Flexible Groups" and the *free* time throughout the day--before and after school, lunchtime, recess if both classes are there at the same time.

She was unaware of anything, and asked what I wanted to have happen. I told her--I want my daughter to be given the information (and hopefully the encouragement to use it) to defend herself within the school's rules. I want the Priss to be given the information that what she's doing can be considered bullying, and it will be, if it continues.

My Howler is so spectacularly herself, I want to keep her that way. I want to give her the age-appropriate skills to be able to KEEP that in the future. And RIGHT NOW is when I start building that foundation. (Yes, this keeps me up some nights.) She needs to know that she does not have to be LESS in order to have friends--true friends may be few, but they are immensely more worth it than ANY ONE who would make her feel bad about herself just to make themselves feel better.

And no, it's not my mom's oversensitivity that tells me that Priss is bullying the Howler because the Howler is much more likable, easier to get along with--if you're 6, and friendlier. My Girl is Fan-Flipping-Tastic, and I'll be dammed if this little biotch takes that away from her. (I also don't want the Howler to EVER feel backed into a corner--she just may come out fighting, and God help those who backed her in there.)

I know what mistakes I made with the Toad--and I didn't always choose my battles wisely. I didn't do more when I should have, I didn't speak up sometimes....I will NOT make that mistake again. I will not.

And I will NOT have my beautiful girl damaged now by this kind of crap. I already know that she's in for a long hard haul--it's just the way the world is. I can't entirely change it, but I can work to equip my daughter with the tools and information she needs in order to thrive in it: and I'll do whatever I have to do in order to accomplish that.

And when I say "anything" I mean that quite literally.

Mrs N will begin with talking with Mrs W--Kindergarten teacher of both, my Howler and the Priss, to gather information. I also suggested that talking specifically with the girls to define what's happening AND to give them information about what they each need to do--in whatever format is considered best--I but I doubted that that a "class for everyone" about bullying will work. So, Mrs N will look into it, and move forward from there.

Need To Know

You all need to know that there's a contest--today only--at Burgh Baby. Go there, and to her 9/11 Memorial post, because I said so.

The *New & Improved* PTA

So, I went to the meeting. I was, as always, well behaved.

After listening to the Prez blather for about 15 minutes, and the ensuing fun of voting for an executive board that wasn't there--3 out of 6 people nominated didn't even bother to come--I made my first suggestion.

We're a small enough group, could we go around the room and introduce ourselves?

You'd have thought I invented pre-sliced bread.

And the fun didn't end there. I got to say "no" twice!!! to being the secretary.

But that's not all I've won!

At one point, the Prez opened the floor for discussion: She wanted ideas--ANY ideas at all, that might make the PTA better.

So, after a mind-blowing five minutes of silence, I suggested:

1) Change the time to 6:30pm. It's difficult to make a 6pm meeting after work.

2) Get name tags, so that it'll be easier for us to get to know each other (and remember names!)

3) Use a "sign in" sheet, so that ANYONE who is attending their first meeting can receive a "Thanks for coming" phone call from the membership committee, with an invite to contact a specific person if needed

4) Add a full event calendar to the newsletter (I was asked to take on that albatross, too LOL)--if not for the full year, at least for 2 or 3 months. This will enable parents to plan ahead for meetings, events, volunteering, whatever. Any dates that haven't been set yet, or that can't be set yet (the end-of-year picnic can't be set until we know when the last day of school is) can be listed under it's usual month with TBA following. " *Dates and Times Subject to Change " can be added under the heading so that any changes can be made, without disturbing the natural order.

5) Send TWO reminders for the meetings--one a week before and one the week of. It will help get parents who are pressed for time, unorganized, or who need babysitting time to make plans to come.

Seriously, you'd think this was rocket science.

The Prez is a suck-up. She started a sign-up sheet going around before I was done speaking.

Oh! I dodged the secretary bullet, but did volunteer to work with another mom on a "Spring Fling." On May Day '09, we'll have a *party* to celebrate spring and the end of the annual testing. I need 372+ peat pots, dirt to fill 'em, and seeds.

While I am excellent at saying, "No" and meaning it, I am also a glutton for punishment.

Can I Get An "AMEN" To That?

Taking the Howler to school is usually a nightmare. It's Hell--paybacks for all the inconveniencing things I've ever done, in my entire lifetime, that infuriated and frustrated others.

Morning Drop Off time is, contrary to what these parents think, NOT the time to bond with your child over a long conversation, NOT the time to look for the gum wrapper you dropped on the floor two days ago, NOT the time to balance your checkbook. It's also not the time to be on the phone, or typing on your laptop, check the air in your tires, fine-tune your radio selections.

Allow me to prioritize for you: First and foremost, there are children--some not even as high as your gas-guzzling, natural resource depleting SUV bumper--walking, unprotected from stupidity such as yours, into the building. And, by gum, they are children, so they're probably not looking to see if some idiot is going to crush them with an over priced status symbol that is roughly the same size as Rhode Island. Second, we all have the same purpose--to drop our children off at school with as little hassle and frustration as possible . Third, our time is as important as yours--maybe more so, because some of us remember what we learned in Kindergarten: wait your turn, try not to hurt anyone, be considerate of others, and no one is the center of the universe.

The Howler is in her second year of school, and I have been utterly astounded by the sheer self-centeredness and stupidity that abounds in that parking lot in the mornings.

Today, however, I saw something that gives me hope.

There were orange cones blocking the favorite gathering place of the most stupid among us.

The five parking spots that are closest to the school were blocked from use. Your choices for dropping off your children this morning were:

A) Queue up and wait your turn
OR
B) Line up and wait your turn

Either way, you were not going to be a hazard to the people, especially the children, around you. You were not going to be cutting line, waddling around your car looking for that flip-flop you lost at the beach 4 months ago, talking with your child for 5 minutes until everyone near you wanted to take their flip-flops (which weren't lost) and beat you more senseless than you already are.

It was nice to be able to get into a line, move forward when appropriate, say "have a good day" to the Howler, AND get out of the parking lot without hearing about how J's grandma, or C's mom doesn't follow the rules about drop off. I also didn't have to worry that some idiot was going to try to pull out in front of me.

Hallelujah!

Things I Learned From My Daughter

About a year or so ago, I wrote about one of the things I learned from the Howler.

Today, I learned a new one.

At bedtime, we lay out the clothes she is to wear the next day. It saves time, and nerves, in the mornings. Plus, there are no longer any surprises for us (okay, there are still a few, but it's usually about whether or not *today* underwear is optional) when she comes downstairs and wants to go outside to play.

Last night, I put out a red skort and matching red top, and added red socks. She said she wouldn't wear it. I asked why.

"Because J and B will make fun of me! They call me 'red ant' and hit me with the straps from my backpack!"

Now, I'm not overly impressed with either of these chicklets--they're both prissy, and they both seem to enjoy trying to make the Howler miserable. (This is what I meant earlier when I said the crap from girls is starting.)

I also thought back. She hasn't worn this particular outfit very often, maybe three times, and each time, I can remember walking out of the school with her saying to one of these girls, "You stop hitting me all the time. I don't like it and it's not nice!"

So, I thought about it. I got mad. I got sad. And then, this morning, when I woke the Howler up, I talked to her about why she thought they might do that, and why I thought they might do that.

I told the Howler how very much I like her--she's strong, independent, unique, thoughtful, friendly, smart, and fun. And how very proud I am of who she is.

I also told her that she looks good in this outfit, and nobody--not J, not B, not NOBODY--should be telling her what she can wear. If she likes it, and feels good in it, then she should wear it. She doesn't have to dress, or be, like anybody else, ever. She doesn't have to make decisions based on what some other little girl thinks.

I also told her that if they call her "red ant" and hit her with backpack straps, she needs to tell them loudly and clearly, by name, to stop it. And if they don't, find a teacher and talk with the teacher about it.

She got dressed, and happily went off to school.

I went in today, prepared to do battle. I looked first, to see if either of these two prisses were near her, and if so, what was going on.

Turns out, my girl is smart. My girl is grand. My girl is spectacular!

She was sitting next to J (no B in sight.) And once outside the first door, I asked the Howler if they did those things today.

She told me that they didn't, because she talked to Jand said: J, I don't like it when you call me 'red ant' and hit me with backpack straps. And J said, 'Well, if you tell me you don't want me to, then I'll stop and not do it again'. So I told her, "J, that's what I'm telling you. I don't like it, and I don't want you to call me that EVER.

Then, afterschool, we stayed so she could play at the playground. There's a creek that runs by the school, and it has lured her into it's algae covered non-depths many a day...despite my warnings, threats, and consequences.

Today, my Howler swings, she slides, she runs and hangs and jumps. She wanders over to watch a boy from her grade play in the water. She doesn't leave the mulch covered area--never so much as a toe over the line. I didn't even remember to tell her to stay out of the creek.

She stood there, on the edge for about a minute: then she turned and ran back to the monkey bars. About 15 minutes later, she walks up to me and says, "Okay, Mommy, I'm ready to go home now."

My girl is fan-flipping-tastic. She takes my breath away.

Who Are The People in Your Neighborhood?

We have, over this summer, collected quite an interesting set of neighbors. Of course, some of them have been around for a while, but we now have more-than-waving-hello contact with them.



Allow me to introduce them:



The Adults (whether they act like it or not)



Squirrel Bait: mother to Loser Boy, grandmother to Dollie; lives a few houses down; responsible for the head lice outbreak (by hosting her infested grandchildren); friend of my own mother



Loser Boy: has custody of his daughter, Dollie, ex-military misogynist, drunk most of every weekend; demanding, bullying, selfish; lives immediately next to his mother, parent of 1/2 of the Urchins



Loser Lover: Loser Boy's live-in, works looooong hours, little clue as to Loser Boy's parenting skills, mother of Waif, the other 1/2 of the Urchins



Aunty Em: Good friend of my Sweetie, adopted Aunty of the Howler (and several other neighborhood children); owner of Grace-dog and Blackman (cat); recently transplanted herself into our neighborhood



Dude: Young divorced father of the Wolf Clan; works long hours, golfs, and owns a "4 foot pool"--the focal point of summer days

Gram & Pop B: grandparents of the 4 Bs; reside between my house and Dude's

Mr & Mrs Mumple: your lucky lucky commentator


The Children

The Urchins
Waif: girl, age 8, daughter of Loser Lover, first in our neighborhood to harbor the vermin head lice
Dollie: girl, age 6, daughter of Loser Boy, granddaughter of Squirrel Bait

The Wolf Clan
Dude, Jr: age 8, son of Dude, likes to trip people and torment the girls
Missy: age 6 or 7 (it's never been made clear, but she's in 1st grade), daughter of Dude
Cutie: age 5, son of Dude

The Bs
Bully: boy, age 7, is sneaky, disrespectful of authority
Blondie: girl, age 6, Bully's younger sister, likes to call people "fat" and "stupid" and is the Howler's BFF or BF unless there's someone better around, which is the same thing, really
Busy: boy, age 7, very busy, very physical
Bike: boy, age 5, called "Mumbles" by Mr Mumple because when he talks, he's hard to understand, loves to ride bikes--any bike, any time

Extras
Devil: boy, age approximately 4, grandson of the Mr & Mrs Barstool (the people who live on the other side of us, whose contact with us is minimal, and usually involves us watching them stagger to or from the bar on the corner), little-to-no supervision

Typhoid Girls: ages 14, 13, and 8, Squirrel Bait granddaughters, usually come when infested with contagions, such as head lice and ringworm

Now, the Howler's summer was spent hanging out and swimming at Dude's pool. Dude fed the Howler and all & sundry neighborhood children (and sometimes, adults, too) many Saturdays. His children come every weekend, and the Howler is always on pins-and-needles until Missy shows up, but these Wolf children come wild. It's more from a lack of supervision with their mother--and the indifference she shows to being a parent (a feral cat would be a better mother than she is), unless she's growing one and preparing for it to get here. The kids settle down some once they get here, and my biggest complaint is that the eldest--Dude, Jr seems to have a thing for tripping people. And they all three lie (which, again, comes from their mother)

Unfortunately for those who think that I'm judging this woman (aka Everpregnant--she has recently given birth to baby #6...and is probably already planning the 7th) her family is related to my Sweetie's sociopathic ex. And she exhibits much of the same behavior witnessed from that piece of work. Also, much of what we know about her is either first hand experience, observations of her children (and some of their "off-hand" comments), and stories from others who know her well.

The Urchins, on the other hand, have their own set of drawback parents. Loser Lover works too many hours (almost as if she's hoping to not have to go home) to know that Loser Boy has locked these girls out of the house so he could sleep off a hangover. He grounds them over stupid things (yes, again, this is my opinion, but grounding two little girls for sisterly fighting for two weeks is ridiculous). They also don't get regular meals when Loser Boy is holding down the fort. They spend a lot of time not being allowed inside, not even for a glass of water, even on extremely hot days. They don't get snacks. They don't get lunches in the summer (he's been overheard to comment, "They got breakfast. They'll get supper. They don't need more than that.") Even if you can hear their stomachs growling across the room. He also will refuse to allow anyone else to feed them, and will ground them if he catches a trace of fruit snacks on their breaths. (In other words, he won't feed 'em, but no one else should either.)

Loser Boy made some choice comments to me, about me, earlier this summer. He must have accidentally overheard me talking about it to Aunty Em, because he now avoids me like the plague. (My response to his one obnoxious observation was that his opinion didn't count, said in tone and manner that made it clear he was in over his head if a War of Wits broke out.)

Squirrel Bait is as selfish as Loser Boy. She would rather see Dollie and Waif sit in a car while their parents have to work, than watch them. "I can't be tied down" she keeps insisting. She goes no where and does very little. She smokes and she watches countless hours of TV. When the Typhoids were last over they not only had marginally treated ringworm, she locked them out of the house, then got mad (after initially presenting an unconcerned presense) when the youngest Typhoid got hit in the head with a rock. She lied to Loser Lover about what happened, and never bothered to mention the head lice (earlier this summer) or the ringworm. Lover heard about BOTH from us, AFTER the Typhoids had spend many hours in her house, rolling in the grass with the Urchins.

Squirrel Bait is leaving the neighborhood by November, but I feel very confident she will be back, in some form or another in the Spring.

If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you already know about Blondie. Click the link on her name, above, and scan it. It's great. It's prompted me to begin reading up on how to counter the assholishness of children.

This summer prompted me to make sure that Dude Jr and Bully don't spend time together in my yard. Bully, Bike, and Blondie were single-handedly responsible for my shrieking about riding their bikes on my patio. I told them, I staged road blocks...and still they came and rode. It wasn't that the bikes, per se were on the patio, but the $140 in solar powered patio lights that had already survived one full set of seasons were being threatened. (I had to go out of my way to get these replacements a year ago--I knew I'd be shelling out more money for all new if I didn't stop the insanity.) And, of course, Bully was partially behind some of the pointedly bullying games and conversations directed at the Howler.

Of course, the Howler had a fantastic summer. Swimming, playing, riding bikes, and in general, running loose in the neighborhood with a pack of mostly-friendly wild indians. And we, as her parents, got a front row seat to the insanity that is summer filled with children.

So, this particular post has been 3 months in the making. Was it worth it?

Ahhh, I forgot

So, back to school also means back to PTA.

Just when you thought it was safe to read this blog again. Bwhahahahahahahahaha.

The first newsletter came home, and in it, some surprises. (Yes, because we forgot too.)

Anyway, what it basically says is that the membership drive begins at the Open House on the Thursday the 25th. The problem with that is that Open House was to be tonight (Thank you, IKE, for that reprieve!)

I'm shocked AND surprised at this.

But, read on! It gets better.

The prez goes on to say that you have to fill out a form, and submit it if you're interested in being on any of the committees. Even if you want to be a Homeroom Mom. It strikes me as hilarious that a position that in the past (for all of my awareness and knowledge) they have to BEG people to take, and now, they apparently will *approve* you--but only if you send in this form.

Oh, and the first meeting is this Thursday. I can't wait.

Back to School

These days, I am reminded (as if I needed it) why I hate people.

These people in the parking lot are idiots.

On the second day of school, I pull into the line to drop off the Howler. This is considered appropriate drop off behavior.

Sitting behind the front car for four minutes while the child being dropped off stands next to an open SUV door is annoying. It's especially annoying in that this may actually cause my child to be late--and it's not because we're running late.

We got to the school in plenty of time--barring stupidity on someone else's part.

Am I being overly critical to think that if you need to have a conversation with your child beyond the "have a good day" and "I love you" variety, you should either do it earlier (or later) in the day, or pull OUT of the line and into a parking spot? If your child has misplaced something inside the car in the time it takes you to reach the school, shouldn't you consider, even for a moment, that there are others around you who not only don't care, but who shouldn't be subjected to your spawn's carelessness? It's akin to getting to the express lane with several more items than allowed and counting out $10 in pennies from the bottom of your purse.

The parking lot is dangerous enough for children and sane people, adding deliberate self-centered behaviors should be punished--severely.

Dateline: Last Friday Morning

It's 9am. Do you know where your Howler is?

Door's open (unlike my eyes); Spongebob is on the TV (of course, he's always on TV); and I do not know where my Howler is.

I holler her name.

No response. My eyes are fully open, and no, I did not miss seeing her.

I step onto the front porch. Without my glasses, I can still make out that the Howler's favorite (and non-crazy) neighbor's car is home...which means that this neighbor is also home.

Stuffing my feet into shoes (and being ever grateful that I sleep in shorts and a tee, not some fru-fru nightie) I head that direction.

Guess who woke up, noticed the car (and, as stated before, her favoritest neighbor EVER) is home, and (surprise) decided to go visit.

Yeppers. One Howler Monkey Alarm Clock is on it's way.

Said neighbor (no nick yet, she'll be disappointed) overslept...and the Howler knows where she keeps the key.

I'm still giggling at the image of the Howler, trouping off to roust the calvary in her skivvies and her teeshirt-cum-nightgown.

(I should also mention that she ducked out past me at the door, said, "Hey Mommy. See you at home later." and then promptly went to visit another neighbor whom she noticed was up with her front door open. I had to haul her butt home from there, too.)

That's my girl--keeping the neighbors on their toes too.

Deranged Fairies

Good To Know

Well, I've been starting to read on the traumas and dramas of pre-teen and teenage girls. I started with Reviving Ophelia, mostly because of the snap-out I had over Blondie. I knew (from my own experience as a pre-teen/teen) that the name calling crap and the deliberate singling out of my baby girl for derision and scorn was NOT a good thing, and that at 6, it's supposed to be too early for that kind of crap.



I read. I was disturbed anew by what I already knew--our culture does not like women. I was heartened that a lot of what I believe about raising a daughter is right. Empowering her to trust herself, and trying to protect who she is, while difficult, will be well worth it.



I've also learned that, when confronted with real-life anger and the possibility of banishment still has the power to cow even the nastiest of 6 year olds. But now, we have to be on guard that the Howler doesn't turn to bullying Blondie (although, a small dose of her own medicine is, in my evil mom opinion, healthy for her.)



But, what I really did learn was that I am now the Howler's most important parent. She wants me in the background. She wants my attention. She wants me. She tells me, sincerely and honestly, that she loves me about 5 times a day. For no reason whatsoever.

Apparently, my snitch pitching at Blondie showed the Howler how very important she is to me. My righteous anger on her behalf, and my 3 days of constantly saying, "You deserve to be treated better!" got through.

Go figure.

She's more self-confident. The whining which was all-but constant has thinned, at least a little. She follows my rules better now. And she wants to hold my hand a lot.

It's nice, mostly, although sometimes, I do feel stiffled from her attentions.

It doesn't even hurt my feelings that she'd rather be down the street, under the neighbor's feet--the Howler has a new Auntie in this neighbor. An Auntie who paints her fingernails and toenails, braids her hair. Hugs her. Lets her run her dog ragged. And who understands our edict against Bratz dolls, our disgust at MTV, and who doesn't think it's cute to see (and hear) 6 year olds singing little ditties about how "Doncha wish yer girlfriend was HOT like me."

The Howler is a spectacular little girl--sensitive, loving, vibrant, noisy...and totally at home in her world.

Do Like The Monkeys Do

So, this summer has NOT been what we expected--any of us. Except maybe the Howler (her expectations are generally along the lines of "someone to play with; stay up past bedtime; go swimming.)

Ah, and then just now, the phone rings. It's my brother. His oldest has head lice. Great. Just great. Does he realize (pardon me for being a self-centered whiner right now) the sheer VOLUME of people I will have to notify, should the Howler be hosting the little buggers?

Hmmm. Let's see: Every blessed one of the neighbors. Day Care. Families at church.

Along with the prospect of having to inspect our own heads, much like monkeys actually do.

*sigh*

Plus, telling people at work.

(btw, *I* know that headlice are not a "dirty" thing, BUT there's still the EWWW Factor to consider.)

OPD

Kevin has now added OPD to his list of pet peeves:

Other People's Dogs.

The Howler has a new dog--she just borrows the neighbor's dog, and runs her fat little legs off (the dog's, duh.)

The dog actually looks overwhelmed when she sees the Howler coming. lol.

I love that little girl! (and so does the neighbor.)

On the Plus Side...

The Howler now worships me.

We've been careful, since the day of my Blondie Blow Up, to not let the Howler become the bully. And she still has rules.

But Blondie, at least when she knows we're listening (or watching) has been very nice. Which surprises me. No adult has commented (I believe the adults in her life are relieved that they don't have to deal with it anymore--not that they were really dealing with it before.)

Anyway, the Howler now believes that I should be in constant attendance...she does not want to me to go anywhere, or do anything without her. Unless there are kids to play with, but even then, I'm expected to stay home, within easy reach, in case of emergency.

And remarkably enough, with Blondie on her best non-mean behavior, doesn't happen anymore.

Go figure--snapping out on a 6 year old earns me the respect and love of my 6 year old. (But I notice she's standing up for what she wants a lot more often, with all the kids, not just Blondie.)

Now, if I could just pry her off of me...

Slow Learners

So, yesterday's telling off of the Alpha Blondie didn't get through. Man, she's either really slow on the uptake or just plain stubborn. I'm leaning towards slow on the uptake at this point, in part because I'm so pissed off.

Three little girls spent the night together last night. They had fun. The Howler came home this morning, happy happy happy.

No sooner were they all outside than the Howler was sad, with hurt feelings, because Blondie made fun of her for wearing her helmet while riding her bike. Apparently, Blondie decided that the Howler's hair was "ugly, and messy."

Blondie wanted to know why the Howler was sitting out, not riding bikes anymore. She asked, "What's wrong?" I told her, "YOUR MOUTH." She didn't want details. I think she knew what was coming.

A short while later, the Howler came home. One of the boys decided that "Hide from the Howler" would be a fun game, so they all played it. The Howler came home, almost in tears. No sooner had I gotten her calmed down, than the doorbell rang. Guess who.

The Howler told them they were iggernt. Blondie, simpleton that she is, asked what the Howler meant by that. The Howler told her "because you really are mean to me."

I stepped around the corner and gave them hell for treating the Howler the way they do.

Blondie, getting dumber by the second, says, "Yeah, well, she hit me!"

I asked, "And what, exactly, did you do to her first?"

No response.

"Well? What was it? Tell me, because we all know you did something to her first."

"I played the game...But it wasn't my choice!"

"You CHOSE to play the stupid game, didn't you? THAT was your BAD CHOICE. Would you like it if everyone played 'hide from Blondie'? Would you want everyone to make fun of you? How would you like it if every time someone who was your friend came to your house they called you FAT, STUPID or UGLY? How about if they pushed and hit you--then ran and told on you when you fought back? Would you want that person for a friend? NO? Well, we don't need that kind of friend here, either. You come over to my house, to play with her toys so you can trash my house. You chase my cats, you don't follow my rules. You play in my yard. All so you can make fun of her and hurt her feelings. Go find someone else to bully and beat up on."

The Howler and I went into the house.

The Howler has gone over to talk with them some, and to ride her bike some, but she's not desperate to play with them much.

My Girl and I are going to get ready and go to the park for a little while before I go to work. She wanted to bring them with her, and I refused. The Howler cried, and I told her that she deserves to be treated nicely and well by her friends. She deserves better than this.

The door bell just rang. It's Blondie, to apologize. I asked her if this was going to happen again. She shook her head no. I told her, "Yeah, I'm really really mad. We've gone through this how many times in how many days. I'm not putting up with it anymore."

The Howler accepted her apology. But I still won't let the little B* into my house. I'm still too mad.

I'm an Evil Mom

And I don't care how *wrong* the bleeting hearts of the world find it!

Today, I did what I had hoped I wouldn't find necessary: I told the Howler to defend herself however she needed to against her "friend" Blondie.

We've spent the summer telling this child to NOT call people names (her fav for the Howler is "fat"), and to keep her hands--especially her fingernails--to herself. I'm tired of having Blondie run to me to tattle on the Howler when the Howler was REACTING to what Blondie has said or done to her.

I told the Howler that where Blondie is concerned, if and only if Blondie starts it, she is to return whatever favor Blondie is dishing out: if Blondie calls her fat, she is to call Blondie a name. If Blondie shoves or hits her, she is to shove or hit back.

Blondie's family isn't supporting her bad behavior, but time outs and being told off isn't helping. Hauling her bullying ass in to Grandma's house isn't stopping the bad behavior for more than one day. So, as I see it, the options are: The girl is very stubborn and a bully, OR, she's really really a slow learner. Guess which one I pick.

She's scratched every other girl in the neighborhood--claiming "it's an accident," even when she's gotten hauled in for the day before.

She's come to my house, and knocked the stuffing out of other children (usually her cousins) if they come to my house to play too, saying, "He's not allowed!"

No amount of telling her it's not nice, and explaining that if she doesn't like getting scratched, hit, called names, etc, then she shouldn't be doing it to others is even slowing it down. And I'll be dammed if I meet this child at the edge of the yard EVERY. DAY. and tell her off before the children even speak to each other. I'll also be dammed before I see the Howler bullied this way(and telling the Howler in front of Blondie that "a friend doesn't treat you this way!" doesn't stop it either.)

I had this problem with the Toad and the one neighbor boy. He would come over, and punch, kick, pinch, and scratch Toadwort, and sending home immediately did NOTHING to change the behavior. When I told Toady to do it back, the behavior stopped.

I have also recently had the pleasure of teaching the Howler to say "You're not the boss of me!" to Blondie...and I got to say it to her myself.

It's BS that I would need to tell a 6 year old, "You're not the boss of me!" It's BS that I have to constantly be on my toes around this child--because if I'm not, there's gonna be red marks and tears on my child.

Of course, after I told Blondie off today, everything was fine and dandy--no more problems.

God, I hate OPK.

Reality Check

Ahhh, one came in the mail for the Toad:

He said, of his own volition, that he would buy milk yesterday. Considering that he drinks 90% of the milk anyway, this is only fair since the Howler is not home.

And, yes, he absolutely of his own volition said, "I'll get milk while I'm out."

He did not get milk.

He did go out to lunch. He did go hang out with Stretch, one of his friends. He did sit in his room, hiding, before Stretch came here to spend the night. He had time to piss off his aunt (and she in turn returned the favor.)

He did not get milk.

I hid the PopTarts so that he would have, quite literally, nothing sugary sweet and vitamin fortified to start his day. Breakfast, being the most important meal of any day, cannot be missed, and it must consist of copious amounts of processed sugar.

MMMMMM. My healthy-healthy boy.

He did not look pleased when he informed me, this AM, that he didn't get milk yesterday, and there are no PopTarts.

Hee hee.

He had to shower, get dressed and go buy milk before he could start his day off properly.

Yeppers. Being a grown up stincks. But it stinks worse without milk.

He'll Do It His Way...

Being a grown up sucks--and this is what the Toad is finding out. Unfortunately, it's something that he's been finding out, he just can't seem to remember the lesson beyond a day or three.

So, yesterday, he went to lunch with his Aunt (my sister) and afterwards, she spotted him looking up the classified ads for apartments. Seems the Toad's friend (whom he hasn't had much contact with for about 3 years) is getting discharged from the Navy, and he and his wife will be moving "back home."

Toad has decided to "help" them find a place to live--I assume he's looking because he's hoping, the economy being what it is, to also share that apartment. Roomies! My Sweetie nor I have been asked for our opinions, so we've kept our mouths shut.

Remember my mantra for the past year? It's "LET.GO." and I'm getting kind of good at it. Biting my tongue isn't easy--but I've been practicing, and it's not as hard as it used to be.

Anyway, my sister decided to give him what for...and not only did she slam his friend(s), she also managed to get a slam in there on me. She also spent time last night informing my husband what I loser I was, and that the Toad is JUST. LIKE. HIS. MOTHER. And IT'S. ALL. HIS. MOTHER'S FAULT. (Even my step dad stuck up for me--I was at work.)

First, I think the Toad is totally clueless about what "real life" is really like.

Second, I think this friend of his, being discharged on a medical something-or-other, is NOT going to have a job anytime soon.

Third, I've seen the Toad totally mis-manage his money, and I have absolutely NO intention of paying for his folly.

Fourth, my sister is an ass when it comes to "Poor Little Toadly." She don't get it the way my mother don't get it. (Sis actually asked me, "So, what, we're supposed to just let him fall on his face?") She didn't like my responses. I bit my tongue over her evaluation of my life--that's a fight for a different day.

What is it about "LET. GO." that these people don't get? And how arrogant are they that they believe that no one else in the whole wide world loves him like they do. And if I may channel my sister for just a minute: "Only *I* know what's best for him."

Did they learn nothing from me? These are the people who preach to me that my profanity precludes my being a good Christian. These are the people who blame ME because they've coddled, covered for, and built the beast that is now snapping off at them.

How much brain does it take to figure out that what they want for him is not necessarily what he wants for himself. He's already done an excellent job of proving that he prefers to do things his way--even if it is a hard, frustrating, demoralizing way to do it.

Somehow, in all of this, they've decided that, of course, this is AMERICA! It MUST be his MOTHER'S fault!

Great Googly Moogly! Yet, neither of these rocket scientists will have this conversation WITH me. Why? Because they both know I can PROVE that they contributed much more to the ugliness that is now the Toad than I have. (My biggest mistake was not putting a stop to their idiocy sooner--like back when he was 5.)

Ahhh,their bottom line? Because I am steadfast in my decision to "LET.GO." I most certainly do NOT love him. What they don't get is that I love him enough to actually let him go--and let him fail.

Let him have the *safety net* of a place to crawl home to--but that doesn't mean put my health, my sanity, my paycheck in the way of his determination to do it his way.

Pictures! Pictures!

Oops! I Did It Again

The Howler left today for Grandma & Grandpa's. We met them slightly better than 1/2 way, as they were at a retreat over the weekend. (Remarkably enough, I've been at that castle in 1996. Didn't realize it until we'd actually gotten there.)

Anyway, she was happily going. Of course, with a double draw of Vacation Bible School and Tommy Too, what's not to love? And she'll only be there four days until we arrive.

To celebrate Grandpa's 80th birthday, there's a party. And of course, she's gotta be in on that action. It's probably not going to be what she expected, though.

She should sleep well tonight, as she was swimming at the neighbors from 10am until just-after-9pm. She came home several times throughout the day, and stayed just long enough to whine about something (not sure what as we quit listening as soon as the whine-tone starts!)

So, in four days, I'm off....but in the meantime, I get to torture a Toad. The Howler is not home (and therefore won't be traumatized by his screams for mercy.) Guess why? Here's a hint: instead of it costing us boo-coo bucks for cable, he's surfing it for free--with the potential to gum up the new computer.

OoOOOOooooOOOOOOooo. I can't wait to burn him with this.

Another One of *Those* Posts

Okay, so I am mildly wrong about the Toad. He has made some effort to get in touch with this college--he's left a few messages, but he hasn't actually emailed addy on the PostIt notes he was given.

Maybe I'm crazy (if I am, it's not for this reason,) but I would think that those PostIts are considered *promotional* material, and that email would be the #1 way to get in touch with someone from their Continuing Ed department--at least it would be a person who would connect you to the person you needed, right?

I think the smell from his room is effecting MY brain now.

Slacker

The Toad has made very little effort towards getting his poop in a group to go to school. I'm not surprised, really, but I am disappointed.

I knew we'd be jinxed if we told anyone.

He hasn't cleaned up his room, either. It smells in there--and is dark and clammy. He is, however, going to work, even if he is unbearably jerkish when he's here.

This is how bad his room is: My Sweetie took a bottle of Febreeze in there, and doused the entire room two nights ago. Almost used an entire bottle. The smell died back--for a while. It's creeping up the ol' Scent-o-Meter again. It's been less than 72 hours!

Geez.

He needs a haircut, and he smells. I spent yesterday telling him how much he smelled--every time I walked past him.

The good news is that his grandmother is finally on our side--not that she would actually admit it, though.

When he announced that he registered for these classes, she looked at me--tear in her eye and all--and said, "Oh, you just don't know what it's been like!"

I looked at her and said, "Oh, NO. YOU don't know what it's REALLY been like." And she totally missed the point. Of course it's all about how worried SHE's been, and how devastating his assholishness has been for HER. Never mind those of us who LIVE with him, and BREATHE the smell, and clean up after him. Oh, NO. There's no way WE could possibly KNOW.

One Toad for SALE! Cheap! (I'll throw in his grandmother for free!)

The Worst of It

The Howler and Blondie seem to have established a One-Upmanship of despicable childhood arguement behavior.

And, worse, they keep running to me to report EVERY. BIT. OF. IT.

I hate it. I keep stressing that "if you wouldn't like it if someone did it to you..." but that's not getting through. (The Howler has mastered the appropriate use of "you're not the boss of me.") What makes it worse is that whatever Blondie does, the Howler does worse back.

The Howler is much better at owning up to her own nastiness than Blondie is. And they are human (not the demons I imagine them to be occasionally) because they always tell me their side in a way to make themselves look as innocent as possible.

It's annoying and nerve-wracking. Even the other neighborhood children scatter when they start on each other.

I'm getting tired of saying, "Learn to deal with this yourselves." and "Don't do it if you don't want it done to you."

*sigh* It's only July.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggedy Jigg

She's home! She finally came home!

All those phone calls, where she sounded soooo very sad, lost, and pathetic just made me miss her more.

Of course, she only spent about 30 minutes talking with us before racing off to get in the neighbor's pool. She came home for about 20 minutes to eat supper, only to race off again once she was done. When the pool was "closed" she (and a few other urchins) conned their way into another neighborhood pool...

She came back long enough to ask for snacks and drinks for her and the motley crew with her. They ate, then went running (and riding bikes) again.

They congregated at our house for some fireworks. Sparklers, if any one is wondering, is a cheap way to make them happy. (note to self: try and stock up!)

We told her that her one friend will be at her dad's house every weekend, starting now, so she's excited.

I see a long long winter with a gaggle of girls coming to my house for sleepovers. I'm already looking forward to New Year's. Seriously.

I must have missed her...or I am firmly on my way to dementia.

I could not get my sister's camera to download the pics, so you'll have to wait just a little while longer for those. Sorry!

Sparkling

Even though she's still in Baltimore, I thought some pics of the Howler enjoying sparklers would be fun.

Know what else is fun? Being a cute 6-year-old who is very excited about "horseys"--and going to Pimlico race track and ending up getting a brief tour of the place, talking with trainers, and petting a real live race horse.

Pics to follow when she gets home.

Sunday May Be Coming!

The Toad went to an Open House for a college yesterday. They are offering associate degrees through the local hospital. (Of course, those courses are in the medical field.)

He went. On his own. His grandmother was the one who pointed it out--and she basically left the rest of us out of the loop--finally. She's finally getting it.

Anyway, he left yesterday afternoon, about an hour and a half before the Open House was to start. We had no idea if he would really go or not (and in all honesty, I secretly hoped, but wasn't getting excited either way.)

He came home and had the information--and he had gotten answers to my questions. It's not like before--where he goes through the minimal motions to convince us he's serious.

Apparently, working at a fast food restaurant is hell. And he's decided that he doesn't like hell.

He understands he'll be continuing to work, and taking classes. He understands that I'm not paying for much (and even that doesn't start until AFTER he's completed--with GOOD grades--the first term.

Cross yer fingers--Sunday may definitely be coming soon (or at least sooner than I expected.) He's either truly ready to do something with his life, or he's gotten to be a much much better actor.

Time will tell.

I was Wrong

Write it down, people. I was wrong.

In my last post, I said that the Howler went to Fort McHenry yesterday. I was wrong. It was the Aquarium yesterday...and the Fort today.

Forgive me...and collect yer winnings, whoever had today in the pool.

I Miss You Daddy

The Howler left yesterday morning for Baltimore. My sister took her home with her for a few days so the two crazy things can bond.

My sister used to take the Toad with her (first to Erie, PA, and then later, to Baltimore) when he was younger.

Then she experienced what we live with--and his vacations with his aunt ended abruptly. LOL. We refer to it as "F.A.T" due to the message on our answering machine on their last trip together.

Anyway, I don't think the Howler understood, really, just how far away it was. She was tired from lack of sleep before they left: She fell asleep after 10pm Sunday night, and was up, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed at 5-freaking-AM Monday morning. And, if you're from Podunkville like we are, Baltimore is HUGE and can be overwhelming.

My poor baby was crying last night, "Daddy, I miss you." on the phone. She didn't want to talk to me. (I guess being the "bad cop" can have it's disadvantages.)

Daddy was sad, and worried. His baby girl was far away, and sad.

Last night they went to the Rainforest Cafe. The Howler, of course, fit right in! She loved it.

Today, they were going to go to Fort McHenry. (The Howler wanted to know if I knew Francis Scott Key.) Part of me is hoping to hear, but another part of me believes that if they do call, the Howler will be upset again.

I'm desperately hoping for some good pics of their adventures--which, of course, I will share.

Happiness Is...

Water.

The Howler loves water--as long as it doesn't include soap. And bottles, jugs, buckets, and vats of Bubbles (preferably Gazillion Bubbles) do not qualify as soap.

She will splash, stand, stomp, jump, and dive into any body of water. Puddles, pools, sinks, ponds, cricks, streams, buckets, or cups. Give her a pitcher of ice cold water from the 'fridge, and I can guarantee that somebody's going to get wet.

The other day, in an effort to give her something to do outside, I purchased a 2.5 quart metal bucket and 2 paintbrushes.

She now paints the patio, and has all the water she wants, as long as it's in quantities of 2.5 quarts or smaller.

For some people, happiness CAN be bought, and for less than $10, too.

Summer & OPK

Good Lord! Was I like this? Is this payback?

The neighborhood, last week, was hit-or-miss for the usual passel of prima-donnas. They've been back, full force, over the weekend.

The shrieking! The arguing! The humanity!

Don't get me wrong--it's great that the Howler has ruined so many t-shirts with ground in dirt, and comes home so exhausted her eyes are about to fall out of her head. (We taken to letting her shower, because the bathwater is absolutely scary!)

But what I love most is that Blondie comes over, starts bossing (she even, to give her credit) tries bossing me (as if...)

They've been told they are not going in Blondie's grandparents pool because it's too cold. They tried nagging me into filling up the Howler's for them. I ignored them, until finally, before I snapped, I told them that nagging me isn't going to work, and they both know it.

They ran outside. They ran inside. They tried sneaking up to the Howler's room, and I stopped it. I was informed that Blondie was commanding the Howler to do certain things in a certain way (be inside, crawl around on all fours) and the Howler didn't want to.

I asked the Howler (yes, in front of Blondie), "And what have we discussed about that?"

The Howler said in a firm, clear voice to Blondie, "You're not the boss of me!"

Just moments later, she announced that she was leaving. Why? Because she insulted the Howler, so the Howler threw something at her (no, the Howler wasn't right, but she's only 6.)

Blondie came to me to try and get me to "do something about it."

I pointedly asked her, "Would you like it if someone called you that?" "no, but she threw this at me!"

So I reminded her, "I've seen you knock K. flat to the ground for less. I'd consider it even-steven at this point, and get over it."

Blondie is staying. They're now singing The Star Spangled Banner.

Summatime

It's officially summer. School's out--days are hot--kids are insane.

The neighborhood has been teeming with small fry (and a few medium fries, too.)

The shrieks have been only intermittant, although decibel levels have increased.

Ahhhhh.

Currently, there's no one, other than the Howler, out-and-about. She's pouty and grumpy about it. I can't help it. I'm not going to haul her (not at over $4 a gallon!) around to "find someone to play with." And not when the other children will be reappearing sooner or later today, and she has plans for Thursday AND Friday.

Vacation starts Saturday.

Anyway, she's unhappy that she's having to entertain herself.

The most remarkable thing in all this is that even with upwards of 7 girls roaming (and shrieking) there are few fights and no coming to blows if there is a fight.

Why? Blondie isn't around. Do the math. Blondie = fights, hits, pushes, tears, screaming, accusations, and name calling. No Blondie = shrieking (fun/happiness), easily self-resolved arguements (most involving how gross the boys are), laughing, riding bikes, swinging, swimming, and running.

Blondie's in for a rather rude awakening when she returns.

On Being Mom

I have the two spawnlings, of course.

I am also going to 41 years old in less than 5 months.

I am now, officially, old enough to be mom to 1/2 the people I work with. This year's crop of newbies is either old enough to be my mom, or young enough to be my spawn.

I'm writing about that here, because of what I find happening to me.

Up until about 18 months ago, I was just "Older than them," and now, I find myself wanting to offer advice about life, protect them from some of the mistakes young adults make, and/or bring some of them home with me.

I feel old. And I fear, I'm turning into my mother.

It doesn't help that the Howler finished Kindergarten, and is now "officially" a first grader. And I've found that unlike when the Toad was this age (when I was either one-of-the-younger Moms, or fully a contemporary of the other Moms) I'm now one of the Older Moms.

The entire experience changed. From how long the school day was to what they actually taught, to how it was taught...to what was expected, behavior-wise. It was enough to make me want to join AARP ASAP. (Although one mom became a 1st time grandmother this past year--and she's only a year older than I am!--I still feel really old.) This means that technically, I am old enough to be a grandmother. Yee.

Think about it. When the Howler turns 16, and is legally allowed to learn to drive, I will be going-on-51. I can, as of now, measure memories in DECADES (that's entire 10-year chunks of time, in case the concept isn't depressing enough for ya.)

The Howler's contemporaries have parents who, for the most part, are still deciding whether or not to have more children, and who, for all intents and purposes, are not seriously aware how little time they have until retirement.

The Howler, of course, doesn't see it that way. We're just her mommy and daddy, and the details of it all don't matter to her. So, on the days that I spend time with her and opk like her, I don't feel so old. But when I go to work and see that most of the young people I work with are just that--YOUNG--and they don't have the cultural references I do (it was 80's day on L-land radio), so a good portion of what I laugh at is un-intelligible to them.

*sigh*

Howler Bouncing

Summer Is...

on Wordless Wednesday.

The End...

Of Kindergarten...Next Friday is THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL.

How did it get here so fast?

The Kindergarten is planning a "Splash Day" for Monday or Tuesday. They'll enjoy water balloons, bubbles, sidewalk chalk...fun stuff.

I got bubbles (and accesories), sidewalk chalk, jump ropes, and frisbees. The chalk, jump ropes and frisbees were not on the short list of what parents were being asked to send in, but with the Fun Fest/Picnic just a day or two later (plus recess in between) I figured it wouldn't be such a bad idea to send.

The Howler, while excited by the "stuff", decided that she could not carry it all into the school herself. I had to go in too.

So I did. I got to see the mayhem of arriving at the classroom. These children actually swarm the teacher, like so many buzzing-for-a-snippet-of-attention bees. From being the Home Room Mom, the children know me, too. I got hugs (not all from my own Howler), and I got to see bandaids, and I got to see drawings.

Then, I discovered that when they say the "lockdown" the doors" the MEAN it. I couldn't get out.

I had to walk back past the Howler's classroom. A little girl from the room next door was trying to juggle stuff she brought in, her folder, and her snack...I helped. Her teacher looked at me funny (I looked familiar, but she knew I didn't belong to anyone in her class) until I explained that K. didn't have enough hands. (K. knew me, though, and obviously didn't have a problem with me.)

I'm still smiling at what it was like...but I still don't EVER EVER EVER want to have more kids, or work in the school. Ever. But, it does make me appreciate those brave souls who are called to teach. God Bless 'em, Every One.

Overrun

So, we now have a pack of wild ankle biters in the neighborhood.

Two are transitory--meaning they appear when they appear. One will appear every-other-weekend, per her father's court ordered visitation, and the other appears when she's visiting her grandparents (which is more frequent the last month or so). Both of these can be defiant and just a bit wild.

The other two are technically step sisters. Both of whom are relatively polite, follow rules, but who do 90% of the initiating of screaming.

We have discovered though, that while the "rule of 3" is vital when a pack of girls is in the brewing, one of the transitories is an instigator. If she's alone, she begins the visit to my house with the announcement, "If you're mean to me, I'll have to go home to my grandma's." (To which, being the bitch I am, I told her, "If you're mean while you're here, you'll definitely be going back to your grandma's.") If Blondie is tired, angry, feeling bored or ignored, she'll take the first opportunity to pick a fight with the Howler.

The Howler is slow on the uptake about friends. She's lonely (and I do feel for her, but I can't stand the thought that she'd allow someone to treat her badly for 'friendship') for someone to play with a lot.

The Howler, though, is starting to get that if she stands up to Blondie, then Blondie doesn't leave "forever!" and Blondie will still be heading our way to play. Blondie also does not like being told that her behavior is unacceptable. And she especially does not like to be informed that I know exactly what she's doing--picking a fight in an effort to force the Howler to allow her to do as she pleases. Blondie will also fight, tooth and nail, anyone else who may come along to play--if there's someone else for the Howler to play with, Blondie's power is lessened.

HAH! The Howler, through careful coaching, is learning that she can choose to not be bullied--and Blondie will still come over to play.

It's tedious--having to repeat ourselves, saying, "A friend does NOT make you feel bad! A friend does NOT have to have her own way all the time! A friend will compromise with you, and let you have a turn, including being first, sometimes!"

We're figuring it's going to be a looooong summer.