Some weeks can be too full.

Some weeks can be too full. The birthday party was a success. A couple of kids that said they were coming didn’t show, and that delayed our start time, but “All’s well that ends well.” I discovered that the Littleton Jungle Quest is not as large or all well staffed as the Thornton location, but I don’t hesitate to climb a ladder when I see a kid about to plunge to their death unable to fasten their carabiner, so we managed just fine.

I think M got a charge out of being one of the experienced kids, and she was eager to try just about everything.

The day after the party was a gorgeous warm sunny day, and I was inspired to finally get our bikes ready for the season. M has been riding her bike all along, but I didn’t have mine and I hadn’t put together the Trailer Bike that I’d bought. Sunday we went down to pick up my bike and spent an extra hour or so playing “Who has their head up their butt” with the store employees, involving conflicting phone calls, lost messages, hidden storage areas, and less than helpful website instructions, but at last we left with my bike. I declined their help loading onto my Rav. M and I secured it to the roof rack with bungie cords and we brought it home. But then we had to go out again because that place didn’t have bike helmets and after all the brainwashing instructions I had given my daughter about wearing her helmet, I certainly had to wear one.

Then we came home and I took the bike trailer out of the box and discovered that I did not have two of the allen wrenches that I needed to put it together. I have almost every other tool you can think of, since I used to have an old house that I constantly worked on, but after opening boxes and looking through all my tools, it was back in the car for trip number 3.

Can I just say how much I really do enjoy walking through a Lowes or Home Depot? M does too. It took us a while to find the tools I needed, but they were only 4 dollars, so I was pretty happy. Then I spent a while toiling away on the driveway putting together the Trailer Bike. I had to send one of the annoying little boys in the neighborhood away because he was driving me crazy as I was trying to read and follow the directions. I only have to put up with that from my own child; I read the manual, I know this. I got it all put together except for the last step, when I discovered that the tube that holds the bike seat had gotten just a little smushed in transit. Just enough that the seat pole wouldn’t slide into the hole. I said a few bad words and set about doing what I do best – finding something to work that was never meant for that purpose. I amused my neighbor for a few minutes while I beat on the bike’s shaft saying more bad words until I was able to force the bike seat’s pole in. Go ahead and joke; I’ll wait.

We went for a celebratory spin around the neighborhood and I got thumbs up from several envious parents. The huge orange flag on the back of it made sure that we looked stylin’.

The next day my head cold came roaring back with a vengeance, and I was laid flat for the day feeling like I’d been run over by a truck. Green boogers. ‘Nuff said. This was not how M had planned to spend her Spring Break, but stuff happens. I spent a couple more days feeling like death. I almost never get sick, but when I do it seems like it makes up for it with intensity.

Wednesday I had a second interview with a promising company. It was one of the most bizarre interviews I’ve ever been in, though, and I discovered near the end that the guy didn’t know which position I was there for; he is apparently getting promoted and is also replacing himself, so his strange reaction to me was – I hope – not entirely indicative of my chances for the job I was actually trying to get. Jeez!

Thursday I got the periodontal surgery I was so looking forward to, and I must say, if you have to get periodontal surgery, the new laser procedure is a BIG improvement over the old method. Still… Ow. And the prescriptions that went along with it were not cheap. Fortunately, a couple days later I am feeling pretty good.

After all that you’d think it would be enough, but I got a call from my father on Thursday that a family member died. It was not unexpected, as he had been in a fairly sharp decline, healthwise, for the past year. Personally, I just thought it was a shame because this guy will not be missed. He was a real piece of work, and had royally pissed off or alienated just about everyone he’d ever come into contact with, including his children. He’d left behind a legacy of failed business ventures, broken relationships, money borrowed and not paid back, health issues that were created and/or exacerbated by his own neglect and abuse of his body, and “creative” endeavors that were not met with the appreciation and respect that he made sure everyone knew he thought he deserved. He and I never liked each other but somehow he had it in his head that we did, and that it was my fault that our relationship went sour. I thought for decades that he was delusional.

It seems like a life lesson and a reminder to use this time wisely. Don’t be an asshole. Take responsibility for your own shit. Don’t blame others for your own failings. Appreciate the people in your life who are willing to put up with you and give you second chances. Grow some self –awareness. Grow out of your self-absorption (it stops being attractive in the single digits). Find something worthwhile to spend your time and your energy on, and do it with your best effort. Life is too short to do everything half-assed. Be kind to your body – you’re going to need it longer than you think. And if you are lucky enough to have people in this world who love you, for fuck’s sake, live in such a way that they aren’t relieved to see you go.  That is all.

One Two Three Four Five Six!

Six years ago today, I was in the hospital having surgery. My granola dreams of having a water birth were thwarted by my baby’s insistence on remaining upright. She has been consistently strong-willed ever since.

She was born with a “stork bite” on her nose, upper lip, and back of the neck, but miraculously, these have faded on their own over time. She has been a healthy, happy baby all these years. I am truly blessed.

In the immortal words of Dirty Harry, “A man’s gotta know his limitations.”

I have successfully avoided having hoards of screaming children in my home for the past 5 birthdays, courtesy of my daughter’s amazing preschool, who allowed me to give her parties there.

Now that M is in kindergarten, things are very different. Tomorrow’s birthday party extravaganza will be at our local Jungle Quest! The school has some strict rules (that I am in agreement with) that made it a little more challenging to get the invitations out. Not being able to see a roster, plus the unreliable nature of the information you can glean from a five year old, I don’t know the names of all of the kids we’ve invited. But I managed by hovering just outside the classroom and handing an invitation to each little girl as she exited the school. It broke my heart to see the boys look at me with confusion and sadness that they weren’t included, but at $16 bucks a pop, we could only invite the girls.

It is sad how fallen-by-the-wayside things like RSVPing have become. Just saying.
I am almost as excited as my daughter at the idea of a bunch of little kids zip-lining across the room tomorrow. I will be doing my best to take lots of pictures.

The Ides of March

This is a turbulent time of year in these parts. Just a week ago, the lakes and ponds nearby were still frozen over. Today, walking through the greenbelt in 60 degree weather, they were thawed. Last Sunday, it snowed all day. Today I’m in short sleeves –green short sleeves – but the forecast for Friday is snow. It will be like this for another month. All around, the green shoots are coming up and the landscape has a greenish cast over the dull pale brown of winter.

I have still not heard the decision on the contract that would mean a job. I am not a patient person when it comes to waiting for news. I also have an interview scheduled for Friday for a job that would be interesting but not as ideal. Tomorrow, I have a consultation with a specialist that I am dreading.

I worked for over 15 years in dentistry, and saw it all. Before that, I had a great deal of orthodontia done on my teeth, some of it experimental. I had appliances cemented into my mouth while I was still in elementary school, and by junior high I had endured both neck gear and head gear – separately – which didn’t do a whole lot for my self esteem. (Think Joan Cusak in My Bodyguard.) As an unintended result, I have sensitive teeth that chip and crack easily. I was lucky enough to have a fabulous dentist as a kid who greatly impressed upon me the importance of good home care, and I’m sure that the time spent in his office had a lot to do with my entering school at 17 to become a dental assistant. I’ve always taken good care of what I have, and am blessed with good health, but old fillings have to be replaced eventually, and after I turned 40 one of my ancient fillings had to be transitioned into a crown. I was pretty sure that was the most comprehensive treatment I would ever need.

When I was in Northern California the past few years, living three hours north of where I had grown up, I found out that the dentist I had Interned with when I was just starting out had also moved to the same area. She took great care of me and my daughter, and it was wonderful to be in such capable hands. Last year, one of my molars not only had an old filling in need of replacement, but also had developed a crack. She replaced the filling and we hoped for the best.

Last week, my dentist here in Colorado took a look at the tooth and we discovered that the crack had caused a problem in the bone next to the tooth. Damn! Of all the dental specialists, a periodontist is the one that I thought I would never need. And of course, this has developed just when I am out of work and have no insurance. That is really the kind of luck I have. I am not even that surprised, just really unhappy at facing a painful and expensive procedure right now. And when the periodontist is finished with me, I’ll have to go back to my dentist for a crown on that tooth. Tomorrow is the consultation where I get the details.

I know that in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t that bad. I also know that as far as bad luck goes, I can handle this and it will pass. But I’m still bummed. This puts off other – much more fun things – that I had in mind for my funds. I planned carefully for this unsettled year, and have been careful with my money, but even though I knew there might be unforeseen emergencies, this really sucks. It skews my financial spreadsheet something awful.

Boogie Night

Besides growing up as the oldest girl in my family, I used to babysit for a long list of families for years, and even worked for an agency when I first moved to Colorado all those years ago. When I am around kids, I kind of fall into a natural troop-leader role without thinking about it too much.

Friday night, my daughter’s elementary school had a fundraiser event called the Black & White Boogie. She and her other kindergarten friends were excited, and planning their outfits was a BIG DEAL. There was to be pizza and soda for sale for dinner, and discounts were offered for advance tickets. Friday night she dressed in her black velvet dress, complemented with costume pearls, white tights, and black Mary Janes.

I’ve got black in my wardrobe in abundance, thank goodness. We drove over to the school – a quick five minute car ride – and walked into the lobby where they had set up a “Will Call” booth. One of M’s classmates was in line right in front of us. It was a good start.

The gymnasium’s stage had been exposed to accommodate a DJ, and the lights had been dimmed, a disco ball and colored beams of light created a pretty decent party atmosphere. The music was late 70s / early 80s stuff – right up my alley – except when they broke out the Electric Slide and similar “group dance” songs, and I stood back to watch in amazement as the entire floor was filled with rows of synchronized children dancing. It was quite a sight. The DJ had made a sincere plea to the kids to not race around and to enjoy themselves in a responsible manner. There were a lot of parents there, but I saw that most of them had a kind of deer in the headlights look about them. Probably flashing back on their own school dance memories. I followed my daughter around at a distance, saw that some of the running kids were knocking down the littler ones, and so now and then I stepped in their path and did my Stern Mom impression and slowed them down a little. I also amused myself by dancing and chatting with the adults as I roamed, and was having a pretty good time.

M was a little overwhelmed by the noise level and the crowd, so about halfway through the two-hour dance we made our way to the cafeteria to claim our 2 slices of lukewarm cheese pizza and tepid diet pepsi. The picnic-style tables were filled with tired looking parents and animated children. The noise level from all the chatter rivaled the dance floor. I love to people watch, and so I entertained myself observing the crowd. I was interested to see how many parents had put little effort into their attire, since “black and white” seemed pretty do-able to me, and noticed the kids who had obviously tried hard to “dress up” with no help from their families. My heart always goes out to those kids. I want to scoop them all up and take them shopping.

On our way back to the gym, M dashed ahead of me as I got stuck behind slower moving traffic. Off to my right, by the drinking fountain, a tussle broke out between a couple of boys. The milling crowd seemed uncertain what to do. I looked over at them and in my best Babysitter Voice, said “uh uh, uh uh, uh uh” and shook my head. Being maybe all of eight or nine, and it not being a serious fight – yet – they broke apart and their audience dispersed. As one of the diminutive combatants passed me in the hall, he looked up at me and in a curious tone said “Who are you?”
I gave him my wolfish raised eyebrow smile and replied “Taller than you, that’s who I am.” He laughed in understanding, and I liked him. I followed the crowd back into the gym.

My daughter danced and hopped around for another hour, until suddenly she turned to me and said “I want to go home.” Poor thing had just petered out. And she sighed the lament of generations of girls at the end of a dance: “my feet hurt!” She had had a great time at her first school dance, and happily we went home.

The Gang in our Hood

We live in a complex of townhouses behind a gate. That makes the street pretty safe for little kids riding bikes. Unfortunately, it has also nurtured the formation of a gang of girls who ride their bikes in a group and their (loud) electric toy cars together while their parents cluster together and gossip. We haven’t seen them all winter, but the returning Spring and the few nice days we’ve had have brought them back out, and unfortunately, they are not nice people. One of the mothers of this tribe lives two doors down, and she’s a queen bee, so they often clump right out front. The fathers are the kind of guys who aren’t that bad individually but as a group they bring out their worst traits. I met them all when we moved in last summer, and quickly recognized their tiered social arrangement. It is very high school, and after I met them I had no use for them, and don’t try to hang out with them but say hi and am friendly when we see each other. Sadly, my daughter very much wants to be included by the girls, and they aren’t having it.

Add to this mix is a little girl who lives across the street who has already been trouble. She lives with her parents (I’ve met them) and yet they don’t seem to have any rules. (The mother told me recently “she doesn’t listen to me like your daughter listens to you.”) They rarely know where she is, but don’t seem to be concerned about it. The little girl has fuzzy ideas about what belongs to her, and has been known to show up at dinner time wanting to know if my daughter can play. I have allowed this child into my home, but I’ve learned the hard way that she needs to be watched, and I particularly don’t like the way she is already sly and dishonest and is only in kindergarten. These kids all go to the same school but fortunately, none of them are in her class.

A couple of days ago, my daughter and I came home from the store and the tiny terrorists were out in front of our building. Immediately, my daughter was desperate to join them on her bike. My heart sank, knowing how this would probably go down, but I helped her put on her helmet and she rode toward them all excited. Not soon after, I heard a blood curdling scream and came out to see what was going on. Of course, all the children were fine, and one of the fathers, in his long baggy shorts, reverse baseball cap and sunglasses, laughs and says “that one is mine,” kind of proudly. I have had this conversation with him before, along the lines of Calling Wolf, and how decidedly uncharming that kind of screaming is, especially from a 7-8 year old girl seeking attention. So this time I just made a joke about duct tape, gave him a look, and went back inside.

The kids had been taking turns driving the motorized cars, and my daughter had finally asked if she could have a turn. The parents must have made them let her, because she did get to drive the car, but when they reluctantly gave her a turn they also decided – enmasse – to abandon the cars and go do something else. Leaving my daughter alone in the street surrounded by bikes and a couple of toddlers too young to leave the adults.

The girl who lives across the street is just as desperate to belong to the gang, and so when my daughter saw her leaving too, she asked her where they were going and the child told my daughter she didn’t want to be her friend any more. In front of everyone.

That night as I was tucking her in bed, she started to cry, telling me about the way the girls had treated her, and she cried for a long time. I held her and soothed her and listened to her cry, and I thought about how hard it is to be on the outside. This was unlike the common give and take bickering that little kids often engage in; I’d heard M and her little friends squabble and reconnect hundreds of times, and this was different. It was mean. I spent plenty of time on the outside as a kid, and I remember how much it hurt to be deliberately snubbed by the popular crowd, and how long it takes sometimes to learn how to negotiate those shark filled waters. I had hoped she would be spared this somehow, but here we are.

I was actually surprised when the doorbell rang last night. M was upstairs in her room when I answered the door. It was the kid from across the street, asking if M could play. I looked at her for a moment. Finally, I said to her calmly “I thought you told M that you didn’t want to be friends anymore?” I just had to hear what she would say. She said she’d had time to feel bad about it at school and had changed her mind. I just gave her a look that said I wasn’t buying it, and said it was too late for playing; it was dinnertime. M came down the stairs just in time to hear this, and she stood on the stairs and seemed satisfied with my answer. The little girl saw her and said bye, and my daughter said bye, and I shut the door.

This has all happened right as I am planning M’s birthday party. I am glad I had already decided to just invite the girls in her class. There are several nice girls that I’d love for M to get to know better. I’ve talked to a couple of their moms and we’ve discussed getting the kids together, but haven’t yet. M has mostly spent time with the kids of my friends when we are out on the weekends and we don’t really have anyone close by. I realize I have to make more of an effort; I’m hoping that her party will help with that.

Happy Friday!

It is Friday, the sun is shining, and things are settling back to normal. My tax returns have hit my bank, so I’ve got a little breathing room. (Funny how being employed only half a year will change your tax status so profoundly.) It doesn’t take a whole lot more than that to make me happy. Oh, and some of the pictures I’ve discovered on my camera:

Documenting home inventory...

A self portrait in watercolor.

Right after seeing a Lady Gaga clip, she came downstairs to show me her version.

I’ve let my daughter use my camera because she is careful with it and because it is interesting to me what she chooses. She’s even started taking videos, and those are cracking me up. When there’s one that is share-worthy, I’ll post it, if I can figure out how.    These made me smile. Happy Friday!

Someone pull this thorn out of my paw

Yesterday Buster was at M's school to wait for the final bell.  As I approached the pickup area, I observed him standing apart from the parents I had introduced him to, silent and by himself.  They are a great group of parents, and so after I made eye contact, I passed him by and went over to talk to them.  They asked me about my interview and we chatted about the current job market.  When M came out of her classroom, she was excited and happy, and it was a minute or so before she saw her dad.  He followed us back to my car, and she asked me again why he wasn't getting in with us.  "He's got his own car, honey.  He'll meet us at the house."
When we got back to the house, I had really had enough of him, so I encouraged her to take him up to her room and do the art project she'd planned for them.  I poured myself a scotch and sat down to watch a very good movie.  A half hour before it was over, they came trooping downstairs to demand we go to dinner.  *sigh*
She insisted on Red Lobster, and I couldn't see any reason finally not to give in.  She hadn't been there since we moved, and she knows this is a "special occasion" place.  What's more of a special occasion than daddy's last night in town?  Of course, he was not enthusiastic.
As soon as we sat down, I could tell we were in for a rough night.  He asked me if I was an alcoholic, he thinks that because M's jacket has stains on it that I am a bad mother, and he said that he thinks that her problems at school are because of me.
Nothing I say to him makes any difference.  He is stubborn, angry, defensive, and adamant, along with being completely clueless about children and child care, what is normal and what is not, and what it takes to be a parent.
I asked him why he is making trouble for me, as I have never kept M away from him or blocked his access to her at all, in fact have facilitated their relationship (such as it is) in every way I can.  He maintained that it is "his right" to do whatever he wants.  He didn't care that it doesn't make sense.  I asked him what he hopes to gain - and he didn't have an answer.
Throughout this conversation, M sat beside me looking visibly troubled.  At times she held up the menu to block him from my view.  She said that if I couldn't see him that I wouldn't be so upset.  Smart kid.
I never wanted to argue in front of her, but he made sure it happened.  I was crying before it was over, and my sweet, sensitive daughter put her hand on my back, gave him her best stern look, and said "She's right, you know!"
At some point, I simply abandoned trying to reason with him and concentrated on helping M with her crab legs.  He would only eat a tiny bowl of chowder and sit there glaring at me.  We ate our seafood dinner, I let her go ahead and order the chocolate cake, and I picked up the tab. (The only one that I did, by the way.)
We drove back to our townhouse, we got out and M said goodbye to her dad, and he drove away.  His flight out was this morning.
As we got ready for bed, I was exhausted and so was she.  She was pretty clear that he makes me unhappy.  She advised me "you should marry someone else!" And she recommended our dear friend S.  Since he has always been loving and kind to her, I applaud her taste and discernment.
She slept in my bed last night, and clung to me in her sleep.  This morning, she would only say that she was sad that Buster had left, and she feels like he left because he doesn't like her.  My poor sweet baby.   Reminding her that he was going to leave no matter what didn't help. 

I hope this doesn't stay with her too long.

I have a second interview for a job downtown this afternoon, so I need to shake it off, as well.  Sure could have used some sleep.