Who Are We Kidding?

aka "Me Time" for Mamablogga's January Group Writing Project.

I've spent some serious time thinking on this topic, and quite honestly, I find it to be an oxymoron if you're a parent. Most parents "me time" is either scattered and unreliable, or is spent with at least some part of them feeling guilty about not being with the kids.

In my case, even with the Spawnlings, I find myself wishing I had more time with them, even when I'm at work--work which is technically "me time" because being a SAHM makes me weird, more than a little nutty, and mean.

Anyway, "Me Time" for the Mumples is mostly about snatching what minutes you can, when you can, and using them to breathe deeply and not let your head explode ala Scanners.

What I've thought about mostly is that, even computer time (even under the guise of church stuff) is fraught with distractions, questions, and the hungry-for-my-turn-on-the-computer stares of the depraved, er ah deprived, Spawnlings. And, even getting up from the chair to answer the call for "More juicy pleeeeeeze" will result in a move-yer-feet-lost-yer-seat scuffle. I honestly think the Spawnlings are in cahoots: the Howler will shout out for something, and the Toad will make his move. Payments are made later, under the table, and out of parental eye- and earshot.

I think of all the ways I've tried, since the Toad was small, to cram a few "Me Time" minutes into my week (Note: I did not say, "day." Day. HAH!)

Hide in the bathroom?
Not gonna happen. Even if you have a lock and it works, the Spawnlings will pound upon the door; break something that crashes effectively; scream or cry; or, worst case scenario, all of the above and THEN the phone will ring, and it will be my mother, with her "So, whacha doin'?" *sigh*

Read a book? Do a crossword puzzle?
You know that if they see you doing that, they will not, as the experts say, imitate you. They will do everything they can to distract you at all times. Failing that, they will become unnervingly quiet and force you to realize that something is about to upset the natural order. They're cunning, those little sanity-stealers! There's been many-a good book that was ruined in it's reading because I wasn't allowed to read more than one sentence an hour (or, the same sentence once an hour, depending.)

Watch TV.
The Toad was pretty good about allowing me to watch and hear TV programs. The Howler set a policy as an infant that I was not to be able to do both. My Sweetie is in cahoots with her on that one--unless it's a program that interests him. I have not, in recent years, been allowed to both see and hear anything on TV outside of lame-o commercials. I haven't seen both the beginning and the ending of a movie or a TV show since I don't remember when. I gave up. I haven't missed much.

Hide. Simply Hide.
I've already made the case against this, but, in off-hand chance when one of the parental units is exhibiting more than the standard amount of patience (also known as the "you're cute when you're optimistic like this" phase) or, God help us all, your other half has "a plan." Be afraid. But don't let them smell the fear--they can smell fear. If there is another physical adult (I make no judgements on my Sweetie's maturity, sanity, or emotional levels at this point!) in the house, and you do get the chance to sneak away and hide, remember that Hide-n-Seek is the 5 year old's FAVORITE game. Especially if she thinks that you're doing something fun--and fun is anything and everything that doesn't involve her.

Sleep.
Ahhhh. "To sleep, perchance to dream." It isn't gonna happen. If the Spawnlings don't find me, my Sweetie will. He'll either be angry that I abandoned him in the middle of some plot of the Howler's (or some stench from the Toad) or he'll be jealous, because I beat him to it, and therefore, ruined what would have otherwise been a delicious napping coup. If that isn't the case (the Spawnlings are all asleep in their beds, with visions of schemes against me in their heads), then there's a good chance my Sweetie will be bugging me with rubs and pats and ideas about things we could do while there's a chance. I love him desperately, but sometimes, I just need to sleep--and he needs to keep all his body parts on his side of the bed.

In all seriousness, my "Me Time" is a mixture of things--reading, hiding, crossword puzzles, and yes, sometimes, working elsewhere. Now that the Toad is 19, and pretty much has his own schedule and things to do, and the Howler is in school 5 days a week for 6 hours a day, my "Me Time" is a glory to behold--me, in my jammies until after 1pm, reading, on the computer, or doing crossword puzzles, watching TV for hours. Blissful hours of quiet and solitude. Sometimes, I nap. Sometimes, I do housework. Most of the time, I miss my little ones--that precious, fleeting, and almost all gone time when hanging out with Mommy was the Bomb.

Of course, I exaggerated the reactions of my family to my attempts to remain a functional, rational adult. Most of the things I have given up, whether it's TV watching or hours of uninterrupted reading, I don't miss, and even when given the opportunity to return to them, I find it difficult to sit still.

And I miss 'em terribly when I'm not with them, "Me Time" is still "Us Time," somehow. I can't say that I mind that much.

A-Growin' Up

The Howler is currently alternating between refusal to grow up and being so grown up, it's scary.

Yesterday, on a trip to WalMart for essentials-on-the-cheap, she was desperate to spend some of her Christmas money. She was in the market for a Magna-Doodle, but was obsessively viewing the entire aisle of baby toys--obviously babyish baby toys. (She settled on a Tinkerbell necklace & ring set, $2.82 packages of necklaces and bracelets, and a pink furry change purse that will fit in her pocket for school lunch money.)

Today, after we got home from church and lunch was not quite heated through, the phone rings--it's for her. She spends all of 3 minutes on the phone and announces, as if having to ask for permission would be just ridiculous, that she will be going over to play with Blondie, her *twin*. She snorted her lunch like a starving wolf pup, stuffed her feet into boots, got a coat and hat on (the same boots, coat, and hat that, 4 hours previously were impossible for her to navigate herself into on her own), shouted, "bye! I'm going over now." and was out the door in a flash. She even remembered to pull it entirely shut behind her--leaving a warm air seal, silence, and a trail of Barbie shoes in her wake.

I find myself smiling when I think of her, just because she's the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Take The PTA Money and Run

So, the last PTA meeting--January 16, 6:30pm--I had a few brainstorms. Okay, I had 'em whilst sitting there, but felt I had said enough when I managed to get the Craftier-Than-Thou woman to look daggers at me.

Let me begin at the beginning--or at least, December.

The day scheduled for Craft Day (held in lieu of Santa Secret Shop) was cancelled as a Snow Day. Now, somebody, somewhere on the PTA should have realized that we live in NWPA, and while it ain't Buffalo, NY, circa 1970-something, we still have SNOW in winter. It's a concept that may be lost on C-T-T woman, who comes from the great and sunny state of CA, BUT it's not such a stretch to think that SOMEONE should have thought to have a "snow day" plan.

The Craft Day was not, no matter what C-T-T says, very well organized. Now, I understand that this is not a small school--it's not large, but some standards, but it is one of the biggest (if not the biggest) elementary schools in our district. If she needed help, why, oh why, didn't she put out a call, earlier than Thanksgiving, for HELP--you know, like form an actual committee of three or four other crafty parents? She claimed to have typed out written directions for the crafts--information that was given to the Homeroom teachers. Now, I realize I was dealing with just 3 teachers, but not one had any clue as to written instructions. Matter of fact, I had to go to each of the other rooms, and at one point, had to beg for more the stupid beads so that my class of 19 would have enough. When I asked for directions, I was shown the sample (which I had already seen at the fated November PTA meeting), and told, "That's what we were given." And so, C-T-T looked daggers at me when I mentioned that I am a HR Mom, and in the two pointed conversations I had with her, NO written instructions--no instructions AT ALL, actually--were mentioned. The kids loved it, though--Kindergarteners and beads = FUN.

Well, at least with the daggers, I know I was not invisible for the rest of that meeting. HAH!

Anyway, the Thursday morning after the meeting, I made 3 phone calls. One to the PTA/Clique Prez and one each to the two chairpersons of the Teacher Appreciation Committee.

It had been mentioned at the January meeting that they wanted to do some sort of activity that would involve Dads more. So, I thought of something--and called the Prez to name it, and briefly explain what would be needed to accomplish getting the materials. She called me back later that day, but I haven't heard a peep from her (or anyone else) since. If it doesn't happen, it's not my problem. I can't wait for the next meeting to see if they mention it at all--and who gets *credit* for it. I'm wavering between no mention, and She of the Weak Voice taking credit herself (or conveniently forgetting who thought of it.)

So, on to the Teacher Appreciation gig. They're refurbishing the Teacher's Lounge. They need folding chairs, preferably padded. It is, apparently, a little cave a room. (I personally don't know--never having the need to be there, myself.) Anyway, they mentioned the cost, and which stores they got those costs from (10 chairs = boocoo bucks). I called and left messages for each of the chairpersons (did I say that already? lol) and one called me back. (No, I didn't expect both to call me back, especially since I made it clear I was leaving messages for each of them.) We talked about what I found could be available and what was needed to make it happen.

She called me back this morning. She's getting it together to get it where it needs to go. We talked about how to word it, etc., and she said she'd get it there probably over the weekend. Again, I figured I'd done what I could in the first place, anything after that was their gig.

She also mentioned "If there's anything else we can do for you..." so I jumped in with both feet. I mentioned my Inviso-powers; how I was treated at the first meeting; my impressions after the second meeting; my impressions in general; and what I felt was the outstanding reason there aren't more parents involved.

I made sure to mention that I understood the officers were new to this gig. I mentioned that I understood that they were given very little good and useful information from the previous officers. But, I have to also say that, these people knew MONTHS AGO that they didn't have the information they needed. Half-way through the year is NOT the time to start whining about it. I'm sure that if they had made calls, even as late as October or November, the previous officers would have carved out some time (or at the very least, the principal--who seems to be a very caring and interesting woman, btw) would have given them as much help as they could. Perhaps I assume to much, but it seems that little or no effort has been made--like building a house of straw and being surprised when the wolf really does blow it down.

At the very least, some of these people were involved BEFORE this year, and why aren't they picking each other's brains for that? It was mentioned at this most recent meeting that they didn't have copies of the letters and flyers that had been sent home in prior years. Why doesn't the secretary (then or now), or the newsletter chairperson (then or now) have those?

I spelled it out for the nice Teacher Appreciation Co-Chair: I didn't expect people to fall over me for my presence, but I did expect a "Hi" or a smile, or SOMETHING to indicate that my effort to be there was appreciated--at least in a small way. Someone to ask my name, which class my child was in...SOMETHING.

I mentioned that for the January meeting, I came in, and sat in the back row--the Prez was standing, talking to the Appreciation Co-Chairs and that even when she walked past me, I got a glance, but not a even a smile or a nod--I got nothing.

I explained that I'm not comparing previous PTA experience, because mine is from 13 years ago and is sparse even then. But there aren't parents coming, calling, or making an effort because most people (and I am not most people) will not sacrifice their own better used time to be ignored or glossed over.

HAH! I mentioned the 2 from the November meeting that I knew previously--even naming them, and how I know them. I told her the joke: I can understand why they didn't want to speak to me, tee hee, but what was the excuse for the rest of them? I made sure, however, to mention her Co-Chair as having spoken to me, though (it's true, and easy to forget.)

How 'bout describing how the Treasurer stepped around me like I was a big dog that was in his way while picking up chairs, and how the women closed ranks so as to not taint themselves by contact with me.

I wasn't trying to sound negative, but there is so much that can be offered by a good, friendly, functional PTA--especially for the kids, or for Moms who don't have many friends or for families who want to be involved. (Yeah, I said that a couple times, too.)

I wonder what the February meeting will be like. Tee Hee. I can hardly wait.

Ah, The Five-Year Old Ego

The Howler is forcing us to watch yet another video of herself as a baby.

She's obsessed. At least two nights a week, we must drag out the camera and cables, hook them up to the VCR and TV, and watch an hour of the Howler as she squeaks, yelps, and wiggles.

Not much different from watching her now, except that now, the squeaks, yelps, and wiggles are live--up close and personal, instead of on film.

The part that bothers me is (other than how stupid I sound and look on tape):

She had the bronchiotrachiomylecia (sp) then, and her breathing is painful to hear. While I realize that she sounded loud then, after years of not hearing it, it hurts my heart to hear it on tape. My baby's little lungs were working so hard! I flinch now, to watch these tapes and hear it.

She doesn't seem to notice (how stupid I sound and look, or how loud her breathing was.)

I am glad, however, that we have her trying to say "kitty" on tape, and we also have her crawling around, wiggling her butt in time to The Steve Miller Band (on LP, no less.)

What I don't understand is this obsession she has with watching herself. She's not overly interested in hearing stories about what she was like, and she is certainly embarrassed when we use phrases like she used to: "Ducks smim in crick" being the most embarrassing so far.

Is this some 5-year old thing, or is it only my Howler? Do I need to worry that this indicates an egotistical need of some kind? She's not destined to become some Mad Scientist who will try to take over the world, is she?

That's Gotta Hurt

Last week, my Sweetie had to go bowling, so it was a good evening for a *Girl's Night Out.*

The Howler and I went to the mall. I don't go to the mall much anymore, as it is usually filled with annoying people. It doesn't work well, either, because the Howler has that "I Do It Myself" thing, and she doesn't listen or follow the rules (of which, she informs us daily, we have too many.) Namely, she doesn't stay close by and she refused to leave when we say it's time to go.

Anyway, my girl and I went to the mall. She actually listened, and we found some great bargains on some new clothes for her--it worked out well--I paid roughly $10 for 2 pair of leggings, a new long-sleeved T, a denim skirt, and two pairs of slippers for her.

She insisted, since we were at the mall, we also had to visit the pet store. She likes looking at the reptiles. Iguanas, snakes, chameleons...ewww.

One of the snakes had just been fed. It was still choking down the white mouse. She nudged the person next to her (not me) and said, "Wow. That's gotta hurt."

He missed the humor--I didn't.

God, I love this little girl. She makes me giggle.

A Girl Like No Other

Part of the Howler's homework each night is to read these little books, and to review her sight words.

She has the books, and the sight words memorized, which is part of the purpose, I suppose. She gets cranky when you don't leave the sight words in order. When she's reading the books, mistakes happen more because she's rushing through it from memory, rather than she doesn't know it.

And keeping it fun and interesting is hard on us. How many times do you *review* the sight words before it's dull? What can you do to get her out of the memorization rut and into actually using the words well?

Scrabble (and Scrabble Jr) and Boggle help. Reading through other books and the newspaper help, but somehow it just seems so, well, mundane. And trying to get her to write neatly enough to read lasts about 3 minutes, or one sentence. Playing with magnetic letters loses her interest pretty quickly, too.

Last night, she wrote a note for her teacher. It's sweet how much my little girl loves her teacher, and I know that those notes and drawings will be posted by the door (something else the Howler loves--a strangle hold on vertical flat surfaces lol.)

This morning, Mrs. W also received a brochure detailing the functions of Water Ace sump pumps. The Howler had to go with Daddy to pick up the new dryer, and she collected the brochure while in the store.

I'm thinking that Mrs. W has not ever had a child quite so interesting (and helpful, if she ever needs a sump pump) as my little Howler.

The Ups

Working in the real world is full of ups and downs, especially for the Toad.

His downs are when he doesn't want to go to work, is late for work, calls off, and, last month, when he had strep throat (aka Shrek Throat).

Yesterday was a day with both--up and down.

In typical Toad fashion, he didn't even consider doing his laundry earlier than the last minute. Unfortunately for him, that meant doing his laundry at 5am...after having worked a God forsaken 8 hour shift which left him tired and miserable. He went to bed early, even for him.

He woke up at 5am, sat and watched TV, and around 6am, was informed that the dryer had died the night previously (okay, died isn't a strong enough phrase for what it did--died screaming and thrashing would be a better description.) He hadn't even started the washer yet.

He had to wash 'em, then drag 'em to my mother's to dry 'em. (Never mind that if he'd washed them the night before, they'd have either already been dried, or could've been hung up and at least his work clothes would be dry in the morning; he was already back to slacking in several areas, so the entire conversation wasn't fun for any of us.)

He went to work a little late.

When he got home, he left the hat from his uniform on the table. Other than the whole ewww factor in that, he did place it carefully on top of a piece of paper with a seal and several signatures.

He was awarded a special "Hospitality Hero" pin, and a certificate. Apparently, they were scrambling because of inspections coming this week (which was part of his irritability), and that was also why he worked his full 8, instead of being let out early.

The Head Cheese from where he works--a man who is not easily impressed, btw--pointedly acknowledged his work in hospitality. According to the Toad, the company that owns our local franchise owns a total of 5 restaurants in the surrounding area. He is now one of 6 or 7 employees who have the honor of wearing this particular pin.

I've been busting my butt for 3 years to be corporate-acknowledged and haven't gotten it yet. And I told him so.

He dun guud, the Toad did.

All That Glitters

is GLITTER!

I've come to the conclusion that having play (or real) makeup, if you have a girl is an inevitable event. No matter how you try to not, somehow, someway, it's going to show up at your house.

And somewhere, in this fiasco-looking-to-happen-on-my-watch, it's going to involve glitter.

Somewhere over the past year, the Howler was given a play make-up set. Not a bad one (no light blue eyeshadow, no fire engine red lipstick) and everything washed off easily that night in the tub. The problem we had with it is what you'd expect--the stuff simply ended up everywhere, and no matter how easily it cleaned up or washed off, there was still time and energy better spent dealing with it.

The makeup was put up and, we hoped, "out of sight, out of mind." (Which, in the Howler's case was horribly optimistic--to the point of stupidity--on our parts. The girl don't do "out of sight" and "out of mind" is for mere mortals like her parents.)

She rediscovered it a few nights ago, and being the slacker that I am, I waited 'til now to blog about it.

She was fine with the lipstick/gloss. Of course, she wasn't using any kind of mirror, and, as we all know, unless you have years of experience putting on lipstick without a mirror, the braille method isn't the way to look your best. I'm just glad we weren't in the car, driving over RR tracks at the time.

She graciously assented to not touch the nail polish (it washes of walls, linoleum flooring and skin, I don't ever want to find out about carpets and upholstery, okay?). Very very good of her, we thought.

At bathtime, we noticed that the cat was twinkling. (I did not say tinkling, dear, I said twinkling.) Her bathwater also seems to have sunny little lights on it....but of course, we're old, and, as I mentioned above, rather dense, so it wasn't really something that registered in the frontal lobe.

Afterwards, though, when straightening up for the evening, we noticed that there was an unnatural glitter about the living room.

In the makeup set, there were, apparently two smallish tubs of body glitter. If the actual event of opening one of them was even half as explosive as the re-enactment of it, I'd have to say we'll be finding glitter in five years when we replace the carpet. (It's sealed tightly, and since no one said, "No glitter, " it was fair game--you twist with all your might, and as it comes open, throw your head back, and fling your arms. When you realize what's just happened, quietly close the tub back up, set it gently inside the case, and hope no one notices.)

This, from a child who does NOTHING, literally, quietly. Not a peep; not a whine. Not nothin'. Nada. Zip.

Glitter is an insidious, aggressive thing, just so you know. But it does make black cats particularly beautiful at night.

Shrek Toad

This time, though, it's the Toad--he of the Impenetrable Immune System--is sick again. As a child, he was rarely sick--oh, he was exposed, believe me. He got chicken pox all over--and I do mean ALL over; he was in day care, so he was certainly around other sickos. He just never got desperately ill, rarely had a cold, and never ran a fever.

And now, at 19, totally sprung from all things parental (except, of course, he's not living with squirrels as roomies yet), he's got strep. He took one full course of amoxicillan. And had three or four pus free days.

He made a trip to the doc's today, and they cultured him and sent it to the lab. Of course, the Toad is now going to be living in the real world--one filled with the delight of medical bills. Welcome to my world, big guy. They want to see if there's anything else (besides strep) in there. Bleck.

They gave him a script for Keflex. So, he's also moving up in the world. I am impressed, though--they told him to go to WalMart and have the script filled. Apparently, WalMart really does have $4 prescriptions.

So, now, the Boy Who Lived Virus Free is no more. He's now Typhoid Teddy, whether he likes it or not.

If I could only convince him that this is delayed viral reaction to the trouble we had last spring...