Adult Orthodontia; A Tragedy in Several Acts

Yep, it's been awhile since I've blogged about anything. It's been a busy Fall, filled with lots of yardwork, Gymnastic Meets for Child, and general getting back into the swing of another school year.

During the time of my little "hiatus", I am pleased to say that Child is beginning to show all the signs/symptoms of having entered puberty; Clothes that fit back in September have been outgrown, and moods that had been fairly predictable have now become quite 'random'. Oh , and... yeah, she also has fallen in love (Yep.. you guessed it- the guy is "Friend"). Hormone central it is...

So... I'm watching all of this , and thanking the heavens above that I am *done* with that period of life, because you could not pay me enough to book a one-way ticket in some time machine to go back. Should have knocked on some wood....

Everyone pretty much knows that getting braces is a rite of passage for quite a few kids/teens. When I was a kid growing up, my bottom teeth came in a bit crooked. My dentist's philosophy was, "if they wouldn't have come in crooked, they would not have fit- so that's good!" My two University Professor parents thought that was pretty spanky news, and I was never brought to an ortho for a consult. Basically, the teenage years were filled with all kinds of angst and stress; just not the type caused by metal brackets and wire.

So, my dear Reader, for your reading (and possible enjoyment and/or curiosity), I present my original piece entitled, "Adult Orthodontia; A Tragedy in Several Acts":

Scene 1: Shock and Awe

Lying in bed one evening, getting ready for a most excellent date with Mr. Sandman, I felt a most bizarre pulling sensation in my upper teeth. Having survived two knee surgeries, and a nice 40 hour labor with Child, I ignored it- thinking it to be nothing. Next day, I sat down to consume some yummies, and heard/felt the feeling of teeth clanking- enamel-on-enamel!

Me: (to Husband) "Oh my God! My teeth are clanking! What the heck!"

Husband: "Really?"

Me: (starting to get very "oogied-out") "Umm...yeah.... I can't chew right!"

Husband: "Probably should go to the Dentist."

After a blue-knuckled drive to the Dentist (aka 'Tooth Fairy'- don't ask....), I sat down in the 'ol dental recliner to get the news.

Dentist: "What appears to be the problem today?"

Me: (trying to sound cool about the whole thing) "I can't seem to chew food without my teeth clanking as though I'm toasting 'cheers!' "

Dentist: (in his typical soothing, high-pitched voice) "Let's take a look, shall we? Well, it appears that you've had an orthodontic shift. I can take care of that right now, if you'd like."

Me: (anticipating eating a solid meal again) "Sure"

Apparently, Husband and Dentist have a common item in their "bags of tricks"- a dremel tool. In less than 5 minutes, enough enamel was 'dremeled' off of several teeth to allow me to eat again. Hurrah... and 'See Ya'!!....

Fast forward to exactly one year later... Same feeling returns, as does the inability to chew. I guess we all know where this one is going...

Dentist: "You're back."

Me: "Yep, I felt that moving sensation again. I'm ready to open wide.... 'Dremel me' Dude!"

Dentist: (after taking a most thoughtful sigh break) "Well, I can do that 'adjustment' today, but I think you need to go see an orthodontist at this point."

Me: "(gulp)"

Scene 2: Reluctant Acceptance

So, after being reassured by the Dentist that I'd probably only be in need of a simple $100 retainer to "save the enamel" from repeated 'dremelings', I made an appointment to meet with the Ortho:

Me: "Hi, nice to meet ya. Dentist said that I probably just need a retainer so I can keep his dremel tool out of my mouth."

Ortho: "Well, not exactly. A retainer will keep correctly-placed teeth in their new position; it will not adjust ones that are out of alignment. The only solution is braces. But don't worry, you *will* get that retainer, too!"

Me: (trying to remain composed. Wondering how Dentist could have been so far off the mark for what would need to be done) "(wide-eyed stare of horror/disbelief)"

After being convinced that he could work his mojo witth 40 year-old vs. "teeth of babies", I decided that me and Ortho were going to have to move our relationship to the next level. That of....

Scene 3: Harsh Reality

The road to beautiful, straight teeth (and the ability to eat solid food w/o anxiety) began with the process called "records". On a sultry July day, I made the process official:

Tech: "______, please come back to the exam area."

(I stood up from my seat, and moved in the direction of the nice lady)

Tech: "Oh, are you the patient today?"

Me:(Having sensed that they didn't see a whole lot of women my age in the waiting room there for any other purpose than *simply waiting*, and having realized that we would be dealing with one another for the next year or so, I decided not to be snarkcastic.) "Yes"

After a few "hello" and "how do you dos", I was escorted past a row of dental chairs to a private room. Inside, I was thanking the heavens above that I would not have to sit in a room full of people Child's age, being a curiosity (read: freak show) for them. After biting down into trays of mint-flavored goo, and surviving the torturous X-Ray machine that actually held the head in place with probes going into each ear, I congratulated myself on having survived an adolescent rite of passage at Middle Age- woo hoo!

While I had undergone all of the preliminary work-ups, I tried to put off getting the appliances as long as I could, and made it another 4 months. Despite much wishful thinking (read: denial), the teeth shifted once again two weeks ago. Time to suck it up....

So, about three hours ago, I got my upper braces on (lowers yet to come- yippeee!). Thankfully, I went first thing in the morning, and avoided all of Child's peers:

Ortho's Dad (business partner, and grandpa-ish aged Dude): "So, we're giving you red and green bands for X-Mas today, right??"

Me: " (look of confused horror)"

Ortho's Dad: "You are giving her those, right Son?" (Ortho smiles weakly, understands that Dad is being a bit annoying)

Luckily, Ortho wasn't guffawing it up as much as his Dad, and everything got placed quickly and easily. After being given a 'survival kit', hygiene demo, and follow-up appointment, I was sent on my merry little way.

As I drove home, I tried desperately to get used to the feeling of my upper lip not being big enough to accomodate the train tracks running across my upper teeth. I discovered the hard way that it was going to be pretty hard to laugh, or smile, w/o feeling as though I looked like an @$$. I desperately wanted to come home and hide. I knew husband was meeting a friend for lunch; I sent up a silent prayer that he would be gone, and that I would not have to face anyone right away. No such luck...

(I entered the house. Dropped my keys. Removed my coat. Usually this little routine of mine does not attract any attention from anyone in my household. Today, however, was a whole different story...)

Husband: (Opening door with a big smile, bless him) "Hi! Let's see!!!!!"

Me: (still trying to get the mechanics of speaking w/o impaling my upper lip on brackets of braces) "I haven't even looked yet!"

(Bravely, I opened my mouth for the man that I've been happily with for the last 20 years...)

Husband: "You look so CUTE!!!"

Me: (appreciating the compliment, but just wanting to hide under a rock) "I look ridiculous!!!"

Husband: "You just look sooo cute!"

Me: (trying my darndest not to smile or laugh, having discovered that much practice would be needed in positioning of upper lip, as to not look like a total spaz) "Ummm... thanks??!!"

On the way out the door, Husband decided to give a little good-bye smooch; all I can say about that was "Ouch!!!!"... It's going to be an interesting year....

So... in order to try to keep this little 'situation' as light as possible, I decided to make a little "Top 3 List"

3. My daughter is actually jealous of something that I have, and that she does not (ha ha)

2. There is now some hope, that with the aid of my orthodontia, that I might have the pleasure of being carded again.

1. People will wonder who that "youngish-looking trophy wife" *is* on my husband's arm.

The Trouble with Nicknames and "Emoticons"

Now that Child has returned (grudgingly) to school, I am enjoying the quiet moments to look back on our Summer. It was pretty laid back one, which is always good. My goal of no longer being the "Cruise Director" was achieved- thanks to allowing her to have texting privileges. Yes, there were some good times....

I was happy to see Child taking advantage of her free time this Summer by hanging out with a lot of different friends. There was swinging on the playset, hide-and-seek, Twister, and all sorts of fun. On one of these "get togethers", her old pal, "Friend", let it be known that he had a nickname for her. When I was driving Friend and "Twin Bro" home one evening, the two guys were busy cackling-away in the backseat about said moniker. Child was up front with me, kind of shooting me a look like, "Isn't that cool that he came up with that for ME?"

Now, let it be known that Friend is a 13 year-old male. What are 13 year-old males interested in? Hmmm.... video games, Star Trek, stuff like that. So, keeping this in mind, hearing his nickname for my daughter made me visualize a creature from another world with a floor-length robe, pointed ears, and (as the boys pointed out) fangs. Um. Yeah. Anyhoo, Since all of this nuttiness was going on in my presence, I felt that I was entitled to join in:

Mother: "_______, how did you come up with that nickname?"

Friend: "I just sort of came up with it one day."

Mother: "Maybe (Child) should come up with one for you."

Friend: "Sure!"

So, knowing that Friend was waiting to find out what his "secret identity" was destined to be, Child started contemplating the matter at hand. Now, keep in mind that Child is a 12 year-old girl. What are 12 year-old girls interested in? Well, they are interested in a lot of diverse stuff, but they do share a common characteristic of tending to be a bit more sentimental/"mushy" than the average 13 year-old boy. So, after about a day, Child happily announced that she had come to a decision: the 1st part of Friend's name, with "bear" added onto the end. This name fit well into "Girl World", and she was quite pleased with herself.

Now... how to share this information with Friend. Because Friend's name for her was a bit on the "alienistic" side, he had no problem using it freely, in my house/car. Child was aware that hers was more of the "earthly" realm, and decided to inform Friend through her new "fav" mode of communication: text messaging. This, my friends, is the point in the story where the "emoticons" fit in.

For those of you unfamiliar with emoticons, they are various symbols/facial expressions that one can make with the keyboard to convey an emotion to the recipient of a text/e-mail. There are so many, in fact, that there are many dictionaries on line dedicated just to them. A plain old smiley face is pretty blah; people tend to get pretty creative...

So... this is the abridged account of what went down:

Child (texting Friend): "I have a nickname for you. Want to hear it?"

Friend (texting Child): "Yes!"

Child: "Ok. It's ______"

(silence-crickets- silence. Child is dying here. She sends a follow-up text)

Child: "Do you like it?"

Friend: " :3 "

(Child brings over the Pink phone with a perplexed look on her face)

Child: "Mommy, what is " :3 "? What does it mean?!?!"

Mother: "Ummm (looking at the emoticon from all sides), I have no clue."

Child: "I'll text Daddy and ask!"

Child (texting Daddy): "Daddy, what does ":3" mean?"

Daddy (texting Child): "I have no clue. I'll look into it."

(Daddy goes onto the internet, googles ":3", and gets back to an impatient Child)

Daddy: "It's some sort of smiley face, I guess"

( Taking Daddy's response under consideration, Child decides to text a 'Gal Pal' to check)

Child (texting Gal Pal): "What does " :3 " mean?"

Gal Pal (texting Child): "I think it means embarrassed"

Oohhhh.... not the news Child was looking for. After asking three of her 'nearest and dearest', she decided to get brave and ask Friend directly (via text, of course) what he meant by it. Friend, of course, had signed-off and wasn't available. So ended the emoticon/nickname drama...for one day...

Being the clever one, Child decided to try to decipher Friend's response of ":3" by asking him directly (via text) as to whether, or not, he liked the nickname. When he responded, he basically told her that only she could use it; she told him she would never use it in public. Sounds like all was good, huh? Not quite....

So... a lot of text exchanges occurred between Child and Friend w/o any mention of the new name Child created for Friend. A couple of days ago, however, Child used the nickname in a text. When she woke up in the morning, she found that she had a text waiting for her- good thing! Unfortunately, the text was a big 'ol ":C"- bad thing!!!! First, there was ":3"; now there was a ":C"! What is a 12 year-old to do when she finds herself in such a situation? She. cries. a. whole. lot. That is what she does....

A whole day went by with Child being stumped/devestated by an emoticon. Next morning, she took a deep breath, and texted Friend to find out if he was still mad. Friend was surprised that she thought he was mad, as the emoticon was supposed to show that he simply did not like the nickname. Child was confused because she just saw a big 'ol frowny face and thought that it was directed at her in general (we won't even get into the part about the fact that Child felt she had license to use the name under certain conditions in the 1st place...) Well, "all's well that ends well"; the two of them figured it out in the end, and peace was restored to both the "alien" and "earthly" realms...

A couple of great lessons were learned in all of this drama: 1) Teen boys do not respond well to gushy nicknames (stick with the gross, weird, or random), and 2) emoticons can be used as the proverbial "cherry on the sundae"; they should not, however, be the "whole enchilada"of communicating a thought/feeling.

When "Nice" Wild Animals "Attack".....

On any given day, I love where I live. I love my house, I love the 'woodedness' of the area, I love where I take my morning walks , and I *sort* of love the local wildlife. I find the chipmunks and birds to be quite endearing. The wild turkeys are pretty funny to watch when they jog across the road; heck, even "fox guy" can be pretty darn cute while playing with his babies. While I embrace these critters, there are two species of God's Creatures that I am still a bit "oogied-out" by: non-migratory Canadian geese and deer.

While on a walk last Fall, I happened upon a large group of geese by the shoulder of the road. I did my best to avoid them, and jutted out into the road a bit. As I passed by, their "leader" made this throaty growling/hissing noise at me. While I was grateful that they didn't have sharp teeth, I was freaked out anyway. I scurried out of there pretty quick. As far as deer go, my issue is more along the paranoia level. I have envisioned them with glowing red eyes, and an insatiable taste for human blood. Yes, it's weird, but that's my hang -up....

Little did I know that when I headed out this morning, I'd get to meet both of my "nature nightmares" head-on....

After yesterday's muggy strangeness, I was excited to get back outside for a good 'ol hike. I was wandering through a subdivision , thinking my thoughts, when I noticed a large group of geese. As I have in the past, I started moving towards the center of the street. It was pretty obvious (it is always pretty darn obvious with these guys) who the "fearless" leader was. I glanced at the fellow out of the corner of my eye. Darn it if he didn't start marching his posse across the street, straight at me! As I was mentally preparing myself for the bevy of oncoming poultry, a car sped by and caused them to retreat back into the ditch. Whheewww....one bullet dodged!

A few minutes after that encounter, I was strolling down a main road, which is flanked by woods. Sadly, I came upon a baby spotted deer in this area earlier in the week that had been killed. I heard a bit of stirring in the woods, and saw two deer grazing away. I looked at them....they looked at me. Usually, these sort of exchanges end with just that- a good visual "appraisal" of one another. Well, today, the planets must have been aligned funny because one of the deer emerged from the woods, and started walking parallel to me (in the bike lane, no less), on the other side of the street. I could not believe that this was happening, and looked over my shoulder a second time; yep, still being followed. I turned around for the third time; yep, still being followed. By the time I turned around for the third time, I was booking pretty quick; so was my "friend". In utter disbelief, I started to walk down a driveway, in case the "deer guy" would be relentless in his pursuit. Thankfully, a pick-up truck came up behind the deer, and the deer scurried back into the woods.... I'm not a betting woman, but what are the odds of this happening?!?!?!

So.....I got home and relayed my most (un)excellent adventure to my husband. He has always found it pretty amusing that I am wigged-out by "sweet deer"; the guy didn't make fun of me this time. After today's hijinks, I think I should have a T-Shirt made for my walks, which says "Team Animals" on it. I'll bet that if they knew I was a vegetarian and an animal rights supporter, that they would find a more 'deserving' human to stalk....

"Protecting" the "Gift"

Last weekend, I decided to go against all that I stand for (I hate shopping), and suggested that we do a family field trip to the local "outdoor mall". Husband needed to have an eye exam, so Child and I headed off to Barnes and Noble for a bit.

Child decided to bring along a couple of gift cards, as well as a chunk of her allowance savings. Being that it was a bookstore, I figured she might select something along the 'literary realm'; would you believe that Barnes and Noble now carries Vera Bradley Bags ?!?!?! So, after some deliberation, Child decided to get herself one. As she assumed her place in the mile-long line, I reminded her to hand over her Gift cards first, then make up the difference with her own money. So, after handing over said cards, the cashier announced the amount still needing to be paid. Instead of counting out her wad of cash, and handing over only what was needed, she gave the woman the whole handful. The woman smiled at her, took out what was needed, and handed back the rest. Note to self: remind Child that a fool is easily parted from her money.

So, after lecturing Child on why what "went down" during the transaction was wrong, we went upstairs to look at books (as Husband was taking forever to arrive). Bored with the Teen section, Child asked to go check out the Stephen King section. Being that the Stephen King section was halfway across the store, I followed behind, and looked at books in the vicinity. Twice while my twelve year-old daughter was contemplating how to give herself a nightmare that evening, two different older teen boys started circling the area. Holy cow! When did this start happening ?!?!?! Is she "street smart" enough to know what to do if they approach? What are these dudes even doing "stalking" a KID? I think I earned a couple more gray hairs, but Child (oblivious) was no worse for the wear... Note to Self: remind Child to be aware of her surroundings, and to always trust her inner gut as to whether a situation feels "right".

So, I was grateful that I happened to be present to observe two ways in which the "Gift" was in need of "protecting". When Child was little, "protecting" often involved areas that were simply black or white; now, however, there are so many areas that are various shades of grey. People have often told me, "little kids, little problems; big kids, big problems". I don't know if I'd go that far, but I think I surely need to check my "owner's manual" as to the rules of the game, at this new level...

If You Can't Beat 'Em, Join 'em and Text 'Em...

After the big "FU 40s" blog/vent/bitching session, it's nice to be back to my normal "m-o" of seeing the humor in life. Time to let out a big, long "Aaaaahhhhhh"....

At the beginning of Summer Break, I declared myself free of arranging Child's "social schedule". (I still plan on supervising/connecting with the other parents, just not cruise directing) She initially started down this road making a few *gasp* phone calls to some female pals. While phone usage between her and her fellow 'sistas' was increasing, there was still the issue of Friend, who by luck of "nature's lottery", was born male. If you've read any of my past musings, you are quite aware that Child + Phone + Friend = hormonal/emotional meltdown. Stay with me, as a miraculous turn of events occurred....

In the "FU 40s" post, I mentioned that it had come to my attention via Child that she, her friends, and her friends' parents found me to be a bit on the overprotective side. Although this was a bit hard to listen to, Child stated her case pretty calmly, which warranted me giving things some pretty serious thought. After having a good discussion with Husband, we decided to activate her texting on her phone. Yes, I still do believe that a phone should be powered by an actual *voice*; it became apparent, however, that the world has changed a bit, and if I didn't bend my guidelines a bit, my daughter would be left "out in the cold". So, we explained a few text-messaging basics (no texting after 8:30 PM, view any message being sent as though it is "on shout"), and let her have at it. After texting Husband and a Gym friend, she decided to shoot a message off to Friend. Happily, it turned out that he was also granted the privilege to text with her, as well. Can we all say this together....YAY!!!!

So, I will have no more "cute little anecdotes" about the awkwardness of the two of them being in contact via phone. Child's phone has been chirping pretty consistently with little "back-and-forth" texts between her and Friend. After a couple days of this chatting , Child actually "text invited" Friend to watch the 4th Fireworks last night with our family (he accepted). This is the beginning of a new era.... and I love it! Cruise Director nametag overboard, Captain!!!!

So.. as we were nearing Friend's driveway last night (after a fun-filled evening of fireworks/hanging at the Park/choc. custard and french fries), I told the two of them that they would need to say their good-byes, as Friend would be leaving for two weeks of Camp, minus his cell phone (therefore, no texting). Friend thoughtfully replied that they could both write to each other; Ahh, the lost art of letter writing, another way to keep in touch w/o voice contact! After a fun night, we all came home and crashed at 11:30.

Being the early bird that I am, I woke up at my usual time this morning to get the coffee going (Husband and Child were still happily slumbering away). As I was sipping my java, and admiring my garden through the kitchen window, Child's phone started chirping; it was Friend making one last text before 'heading out of Dodge'. Even though I knew I would be waking a sleeping bear, I brought the phone up to Child, so she would be able to respond before he left. One more set of "technologically-powered" good-byes were exchanged; ain't communication grand?!?!

The "FU 40s"

A lot of my blogs tend to lean towards the humorous realm. This is not one of those blogs. If you prefer the lighter side of life, and don't want to hear me vent/bitch, please jump to a different place on the Web NOW....

The title of this is kind of interesting, huh? I was reading a great book yesterday about women reinventing themselves at midlife (which, in this book, is defined as 50- some good news for me, I guess!). The 50s are defined as the "FU 50s" because the author contends that around this point in our lives as women, we feel freer being who we are/saying what we believe (less pressure to please and adapt to the 'status quo'). After the experience that I had yesterday, I've decided to (once again) be the "Queen of Early", and adapt this philosophy towards my newly-entered 40s. Here's the 'backstory' on how this great epiphany came about...

My daughter was sitting at the table eating her afternoon snack, and just seemed to be a bit off. I asked her what was up, and she informed me that a certain sub-set of her peers /parents find me "weird". Having the sense of humor that I do, and my penchant for Austin Powers-type movies, I was like, "Yeah.... DUH!" Well, apparently my "weirdness" goes beyond that; apparently, I am pretty off-the-mark in my parenting skills! Here are my shortcomings, in no particular order: 1) I am hyper about my child being sunscreened (the child has ALBINISM for heaven's sake!), 2) I won't let my child don a bikini (I am trying to teach the kid modesty; would the women who walk around wearing one of those walk around in public wearing their underwear and a bra???? I think NOT..), 3) While I expect my daughter to initiate/create her own plans, I feel it's reasonable to touch base with the other parent(s) about 'housekeeping details' (pick-up times/supervision/etc), and 4) I will not let my daughter have a Facebook Page (heck, even FB won't let kids under the age of 13 sign up, unless, of course, they lie about their ages...). Yep, I'm a pretty crummy/'weird' parent....

When I was in elementary school/middle school/high school and college, I had some great female friends. I also met a lot of really cool friends out in the "working world". It wasn't until I became a parent that the "shit hit the fan" with other women friends; or shall I say more accurately, "Mommy Friends" (the mothers of your daughter's friends). When my daughter was a very young baby, I had a pretty hard adjustment to parenthood; the sleep deprivation just utterly kicked my butt. As soon as the sleep situation improved, my daughter was given a serious (at the time) diagnosis, that would have our family unclear of the outcome for a number of years. This was a time when I really needed my friends. Unfortunately during that lovely period,
a lot of women I believed to be friends criticized me behind my back, and those friendships blew up. Boy was that an unpleasant eye-opener! A couple of years later, when my daughter was in elementary school, she was placed in a classroom with a special needs child, whose mother was a pretty active PTA member. That mother had the expectation that my daughter would be responsible for constantly hanging out with her daughter (who had issues with social behaviors, unaddressed by any of the adults in the picture). Every time my daughter tried to pursue new friendships, and nicely told the other girl that she wanted to play with someone else at the moment, the "mommy recess aides" would require my daughter to be trailed by this other child. Feeling that issues should be dealt with at the source, I spoke about this with the girl's mother (thinking that we were at least "Mommy Friends"). To put it nicely, the other mother did not appreciate me coming to her directly/honestly to try to resolve things. For the next three years at that elementary school, other mothers who had previously spoken to me/had playdates would no longer speak to me, or acknowledge my daughter's phone invitations to their daughters for playdates. Nice...

Yesterday's discussion put my emotions right back to where they were all those years ago. If some adult has an issue with the way that I parent, it seems to me that she should either have the character to come to me directly to discuss it, or just keep it to herself. Telling her daughter her "opinions", while telling her kid not to tell mine (yeah, right!) is pretty hurtful. When my husband came home from work last night, we talked about this for awhile. When we went down to talk with our daughter about it, my husband really earned some bonus points; he told our daughter that if that kid/parent was criticizing me, they were actually criticizing BOTH him and me, because we are a parenting team (LOVE that guy!). It was a pretty amazing dinnertime discussion, as our daughter really listened to what we were saying, and started to think a bit more critically about what her friends/friends' parents were saying about our family. Nice to know that something really great came out of something that started out pretty badly...

So...back to the whole point about the "FU 40s".... The big mental/emotional challenge for me today was to decide how to react to this whole thing. My traditional response would have been to simply 'hermitize' myself, and just go underground for awhile. Instead, however, I have come to the decision that I am comfortable with how I am raising my child. My home/family mean everything to me, and I love to share both with people who enjoy/appreciate them. We are what we are, and who we are, around here; no more apologies! May I raise my glass of Evian to you, the "FU 40s"!!!!!

A Penny Saved Is A Penny... SPENT!

I woke up this morning to the glorious beginning of Week 2 of Summer Break. The sun was shining, Child lazed around in bed until the luxurious hour of 8:30 AM, and I was caffeinated/sunscreened for my morning walk. What more could I want? Well, put in a different light, what more would I not want...

After an hour of strolling through the serenity of nature, I arrived back at my abode, sweaty and ready for a nice cool shower. As I made my way through the mudroom, and into the "main house", I caught a glimpse of Child. She was grasping something in her hand. Upon closer examination, it appeared to be one of her purses. So the fun began...

Child: "Mommy, I have to talk to you about something. I need you to listen to me. Two of my leotards are too small, and I have been eyeing two of them at the Gym. I'd like to buy one today." (For the record, all of her leos fit)


(Mother ponders the fact that Child was damning her sport just the other day. Funny how the tide turns...)

Mother: "Three weeks ago you spent $18 on a pair of velour shorts to go over your leos, thus extending their lives (note to gymnastics "newbies"- velour shorts are great because when worn over a slightly too small leo, they can disguise a wedgie really well; thus allowing leos to be worn longer). On Father's Day, you dropped almost $12 at Beans and Barley on pins! There has been a lot of spending, as of late..."

Child: (interrupting, the fire going to two alarms)"But gymnastics is everything! I will only have two leos that fit, and that I actually like!"

Mother: (readying the "psychic fire extinguisher)"Two leos are fine. We'll just wash them both mid-week, and you'll get through a week of practice."

Child: "HMMMPPPPP (growl)!!!!!!!!!" (leaves the room)

With Child out of my line of vision for a brief period, it gave me time to mentally prepare for the second wave of attack that I knew would be imminent......

Child: (entering room with fists clenched, knees locked, and a scowl on face)" All of the other Moms at the Gym buy their kids leos all the time! I said that I would buy it with my money!! You don't even have to pay anything!"

Mother: (working the tranquility mantra) "I know that you have offered to buy the leo; that's not the point. The point is that it is not a good "money decision". You have been spending quite a bit of money as of late on impulse items. What about saving the difference for the North Face jacket for Fall? What about those jeans from Delia's that you were talking about? Weren't you planning on getting some deco items for the Teen Zone???"

Child: (While still maintaining the closed fists, locked knees, and scowl, a deep red begins to creep across the facial area. The two alarm fire is about to become a three alarm one) "IHATEYOU!"

Like taking an ill-fated curtain call, Child again stormed out of the room. I couldn't help but laugh/smile at the fact that we had just achieved an exciting milestone in our Mother/Daughter relationship; the uttering of the first, "IHATEYOU!", directed at 'dear old Mother'.

So...about five minutes passed, and Child, again, appeared on the scene. Knowing that we needed to be out the door in less than an hour for gymnastics, it was necessary for Child to eat. Believing in the curative properties of food, I saw an opportunity...

Mother: "Hungry?"

Child: (semi-sheepishly)"Yeah"

(Mother presents Child with some (feel good carb) pasta and strawberries. The scowl is now replaced by the facial muscles used for chewing. All is good)

Mother: "Learning to manage money is really a hard thing. I used to spend too much of my money on sweatshirt after sweatshirt at your age!"

Child: (looks amused... Mother did something dumb???) "Really? How do you learn how to do the 'money thing'? "

Mother: " It takes time and guidance to figure out how to handle your finances. No one is born knowing how to do it. A person needs to be mentored. Daddy and I are here to help you with that, and we'll be happy to help you with advice even after you leave home."

Child: "HmmmpppOK"

Happily, the "fire" never did reach the four-alarm stage. Child regained her emotional equillibrium after lunch, and pranced off to practice her floor routine in the Family Room. Hopefully, there was a bit of wisdom learned from that "heated exchange", which will "simmer on the back burner" for awhile. As far as myself, I'm glad to have survived the three alarm heated argument without being singed by a fire-breathing tween dragon!

Co-Dependent No More....

I always like to look at the 3 month Summer Break as a great chance for social/emotional growth. Every June, I wonder what "new lessons" will be learned by the time September rolls around. I pondered these thoughts as I was out for my walk this morning. It struck me that creating change in my own behavior could possibly yield some positive growth in Child...

Anyone who reads this blog is probably aware that at least 3 entries focus on my daughter's ineptitude/dislike of the phone. While I have been able to find quite a bit of "funny" in all of this, this little "problem" will have some pretty sad consequences, if left on its present course..

Because school ended last week, the ability to see friends on a daily basis has disappeared. Sure, the kids are pretty scheduled all day, but there are opportunities to chat/make plans/connect. Knowing that going from constant activity/people to a pretty quiet house would be an adjustment for Child, I figured that I should probably give her a "lay of the Summer Land":

Mother: "Summer is here. This is going to be a pretty quiet week for you. You are welcomed to invite someone over for Thursday and/or Friday. Just make sure that you do your calling when I'm home, so I can talk to the other adult."

Child: "( tinkers with any small object within grasping reach to avoid eye contact with/answering Mother)"

Father: "It just takes 5 minutes of arranging plans to enjoy a whole day of fun! You always have a great time when friends come over!"

Child: "I'm on vacation from calling anyone this week. Maybe next Monday..." (Child then scurries away from the table where Mother and Father are seated, loading the dishwasher w/o even being nagged! Anything to stop the discussion...)

After realizing that approach didn't lead to a "eureka moment", I tried another route:

Mother: (trying not to get too deep, this is aimed at a pretty "black-and-white" kid, after all) "I need to talk to you about friendship."

Child: "(eyes glaze over, then start scanning the room for something to tinker with)"

Mother: "Friendship is something that you need to nurture, to take care of. You do this by showing interest in the other person. When you call someone up just to ask about their day, or to invite them to do something, you are showing him/her that you care. Auntie "____" and I hadn't seen each other for seven months before we got together this afternoon. If it weren't for our chats on the phone, we would be pretty removed from one another's lives. Do you kind of get where I'm coming from?"

Child: "( Huh? Did you say something, Mother? I was just working over some Justin Bieber lyrics in my head!!!!)"

Okay.... still no power to the 'ol "lightbulb in the cabeza"! One last college try:

Mother: " 'Friend' is going to Mexico for a week. Are you going to give him a call and wish him a nice trip?"

Child: "hmmmpppp"

Mother: "You are always complaining that ____ (other female, most despised by Child) calls him all of the time. As annoying (and 'stalkeristic') as her MO is, she is showing interest in him/his life. When you ignore someone, the general vibe that you're giving out is that you could care less. You say that you consider him to be a friend; is this the message that you want to be sending?"

Child: (Gives Mother one of her "specialities of the house", a big 'ol sneer, and leaves the room)

Well, this final exchange was the "come to Jesus" moment; ironically enough, not for "Child", but for me. It was then that I realized that by either nagging her to call a friend, or actually making the arrangements on her behalf, I had taken away her ability to manage/nurture her friendships. Feeling a little bored and lonely? Good opportunity to check the "daily schedule" with Mother, and see if a little get-together could fit in. Slightly apprehensive about dialing/speaking on a phone? Well, if you don't no one else is going to! Feeling a 'pit in your stomach' after having neglected to stay in touch with someone, and then having to endure seeing that person with new people who get the concept of being a friend- OUCH! Yep, it occurred to me that by "cruise directing"/facilitating, I have prevented all of these lovely scenarios from happening. Pretty accomodating in the "here and now" , but not at all helpful for learning real life lessons/consequences of behavior. Better to have her squirm a bit under my safe roof as a twelve year-old, than to become a lonely, socially inept adult, clueless in the art of friendship.

So... It should be an interesting Summer around here. I can see my "little intervention" going very well (Child develops a taste for "reaching out and touching someone"), or pretty bad (Child's headstrong nature wins out, and she chooses to be miserable rather than take a chance at some personal growth). I just need to remember that, "what doesn't kill us makes us stronger." And take a couple of deep, cleansing breaths...

All Good Things Must Come To An End....

There have been school years where not only Child, but Husband and I as well, desperately counted down to "the end", "fin", "game over". Interestingly enough, these years have traditionally been the "odd numbered" ones. Being that Child just finished 6th Grade, the "doomsday countdown clock" was never activated this year...

Last year during 5th Grade, all Child (and we, as parents) heard was how Middle School was going to be a H-U-G-E transition. It was a year of "in Middle School, they won't accept this", and "you better get this in line before Middle School." Needless to say, 5th Grade was pretty much a buzzkill, and the "doomsday countdown clock" was polished and set on top of the mantle a week before the "big day".

Apparently, the 5th Grade "Teacher Soothsayers" were a bit off-the-mark on what the 6th Grade experience would turn out to be. Child enjoyed a great year with enthusiastic teachers, who guided her gently along the path to success in her new environment. She made some new friends, and kept the old. She learned to be more responsible/organized. She even experienced her 1st crush, and remained sane. All around, it was just a great year; I don't know what more any of us could have asked for!

How to end such a great year... We enjoyed lunch in "Thomasville" with "Friend", his twin brother, baby brothers, and parents. Child, "Friend", and "Twin Bro" frolicked in the backyard, played Twister (Child opted out of "twisting", and just spun the spinner and laughed at the boys), and had an impromptu "phone tutorial"! Yes folks, something definitely froze over today!Child picked up the "house phone" (aka landline), and started messing with it. "Friend" looked over at her, smiled, and asked who she was calling. This is when the "eureka moment" came to me:

Mother: "______, you should call _____("Friend") on his cell phone and get over your fear of it!"

Friend: "I'll call her."

(Friend confidently, and authoritatively, types in the digits)

(The handset in Child's hand rings. Shockingly, she answers it on the first ring...)

Child: "Hello"

Friend: "Hi. You should go in another room so I can't hear you." (Friend and Child are sitting 5 feet apart)

(Child takes the handset, and disappears into the basement. Her voice is audible through the ceiling as Child, like her Mother, is able to project her voice quite well)

Friend: "I can hear you through the ceiling (laughs, after all, this is the "King of the Laugh Attack"....). Go in the little room with the litter box!"

(Child obliges, and her voice can still be heard through the ceiling, but not as much as before. The two converse for about a minute)

Friend: (to Mother, who is in the same room he is calling Child from)"Why is she afraid of phones?"

Mother: "I have no idea."

(Child emerges from the "Underworld" (basement). She and Friend smile at one another. Could this be the beginning of cellular/landline communication...Stay Tuned!)

After lunching, badmitting, and general merry-making, it was time to say good-bye to Friend et al (Baby Bros need naps, after all). Even though Child knew that she would be leaving shortly for a friend's house for dinner/sleepover, she looked utterly dejected. When asked why she was so sad, she burst into tears, saying how much she would be missing her Math Teacher. This Math Teacher, who is now officially retired, was one of those rare individuals who believed that any child had the ability to suceed, and taught her classes accordingly. Earlier that day, she had written in Child's autogrpah journal that she was so grateful that Child transferred into her class because otherwise she would have "never gotten to know one of the most precious girls in the 6th Grade." Whoa... tears for two, please! Yep, it was a banner year...

So, after some quality time with a Kleenex box, Child and I worked together to get her overnight bag/sleeping bag ready to go. As we approached the car, Child started to tear up again. I unlocked the backseat doors for her, so she could put in her luggage, and then it happened.... As she was placing her stuff into the car, Child noticed something on the backseat. She flipped it over, and it was a laminated picture of Friend (which he had dropped in the backseat of the car on the way home from school). Holding/looking at the picture instantly took away the sadness of missing her favorite teacher. They do say that the Lord works in mysterious ways, after all... When we arrived at her sleepover, she was once again a happy camper (picture of Friend safely packed-away into the overnight bag). It's looking like the great "First Day of Summer Vacation" will also be a great night!

Just say "No" to the 'Kiddie Cocktail'...

After not seeing Child for a whole day (she was off at her school's Rocket Day with Husband), she was actually more talkative than her usual "primal grunts" in response to my attempts at conversation. Should be a lively commute to take her to the Gym, I thought...

After getting the lowdown on the day's events, the conversation somehow turned to her 2 BFFs. Apparently, they all like Tombstone Pizzas; like, oh-my-gosh- MIND MELD! Her BFFs, however, have also acquired tastes for Kiddie Cocktails and "Margaritas"........ Can you hear this conversation sccreeeccchhhing to a stop?????

Ever since Child was small, Husband and I have told her where we stand on alcohol consumption by minors, which would be none until you're of legal age- thank you! We don't believe in "giving sips and samples." I also have quite the issue with the concept of giving a child their own "drink" ("kiddie cocktail"), so they can start young in navigating the nuances of becoming an experienced social drinker. Not being one to beat around the bush, I have told Child why I disagree with those things many times. Leaning towards the obstinate/argumentative side of the spectrum, she loves to challenge/debate/argue....

Child: "____ told me that when I come over, we can have Tombstone Pizza, and her Dad will make me a "Kiddie Cocktail"- he's really good at making them!"

Mother: "Pizza=yum. Cocktail= not so much!"

Child: (regressing back to the lovely 2s)"Whhyyyyyy?"

Mother: (shaking head and sighing)"Daddy and I have told you many times why we don't agree with those things. Drinking alcohol is not for kids, and "pretending" is just bizarre. No."

Child: (Energized for the big fight, Child reaches to push the largest button of all) "I don't understand why a kid just can't have a whiskey...."

Mother: (Years of talks about alcohol flash before Mother's eyes. Her grip tightens on the steering wheel, the sounds of "one hand clapping" booming inside of both eardrums)"Alcohol affects brain function, and decision making. It is not for kids- period."

Child: (not quite satisfied yet, Child asks a further question to see if she can turn Mother completely gray in the 6 minutes left to get to the Gym) "Then why can adults drink it?"

Mother: (working that "tranquility mantra") "I've told you many times that alcohol is only OK for adults over 21 in moderation, and only if they will not be driving."

(Child appears to be mulling this over a bit. Mother feels the need to remind Child of the most important point of all...)

Mother: "In our family, there is no alcohol use by those under 21, and no sort of drug use/abuse-period. If either occurs, we'll be giving you a free ride to the local Police Dept. The law is the law."

Child: ( wind has gone out of the "argument sails") "Yeah, I know."

I'm pretty comfortable that Child knows where Husband and I stand on these important issues. I think that she knows I'm dead serious about involving the Police for underage drinking/drug use. While I'm often snarky and sarcastic, these two issues are not the least bit amusing to me. While they are bad enough for either gender, the consequences for a girl can be really scary. When I send Child to parties, I check in with the host parents to get the "lay of the land". When she entertains friends at our home, I take my job of supervising seriously; I'd want the other parents to do the same for my kid! What scares me the most is that the 'parent bartender' of today (making kiddie cocktails and kiddie margaritas) could be the "I'm-the-cool-parent-who-serves-alcohol-at-my-house-but-takes-all-of-the-kids-keys" in the future: now that's a sobering thought, huh?

So, when I offer up beverages to young visitors at my home, it'll be along the lines of lemonade/milk/iced tea/water. If they're looking for anything resembling a "cocktail", they're welcome to come back when they're 21....

The "Tram I Am"....

For about the first time in recent memory, the weather where I live was p-e-r-f-e-c-t over Memorial Day Weekend. Usually, we are blessed with cold air/rain; but not this year! Yes, it was a lovely holiday weekend filled with lots of gardening, a party/sleepover for Child, and a trip to Old World Wisconsin (OWW). For those of you unfamiliar with it, OWW is an outdoor historical museum, complete with authentic period buildings, and re-enactors dressed in period clothes. You can watch the "natives" cook period food, and tend their gardens/animals. It's a pretty nice outing, all in all. So, on Sunday Husband, Daughter, Friend {if you are a regular reader of the blog, you might recognize him from his appearances in 1) "The Amazing, Mystifying, Puzzling Phone", 2) "Phone Follies... Part Deux", and 3) "ET Phone Home? Yeah, When Hell Freezes Over!"}, and I set out on a balmy 88 degree Sunday Morning to take in the sights....

To get to OWW from my neck of the woods, it's about 45 min/one way. Because of that amount of time to be spent in the car, I recommended to Child that she perhaps bring something along to do, including her iPod to share with Friend. We arrived at Friend's house, and he plopped into the family roadster, as cheerful as always. I think he thanked us for taking him about three times before the car even shifted into reverse to leave his driveway (LOVE that kid's manners!). After about 10 minutes of leading the small talk between Child and Friend, I realized that something was needed to kind of "break the ice": time for Child to shine! Child loves to make what I call "mouth noises". Her latest creation is a sound that could best be described as Alvin the Chipmunk on "uppers". While it's not my favorite thing to listen to, I figured that it might be just the trick....

Mother: "_____, you should show______ that noise that you make!"

Child: "Mooommmm! (child feigns embarrassment, but is really intrigued by the possibility of having a free pass to make obnoxious noises)"

Mother: (to Friend) "_____, close your eyes! You've GOT to hear this!!!"

(Friend obliges and closes his eyes, smiling in anticipation of the sideshow to come)

Mother: "_____'s eyes are closed. Go ahead, do your schtick!"

(Child starts in on her routine. Friend starts laughing hysterically. Child comes up with as many songs to make the Chipmunk noise to as possible. Friend has now acquired hiccups, and his side hurts. Mission accomplished; the ice has now been broken)

Like clockwork, we arrived as the gates opened at OWW. After being given our "non-historic" blue bracelets, we were free to enter the grounds. Knowing that we would have two tweenagers with us, it was pretty much a no-brainer to me that lunch should be first on the agenda. OWW has a nice area right off of the entrance to picnic at; lots of beautiful pine trees, and plenty of picnic tables. Since it was a holiday weekend, and nice weather to boot, I figured that area would be jammed with similar-minded people. I was wrong. Husband, Child, Friend and I were the only ones in the whole picnic area! After doing a quick visual to make sure that the Blair Witch wasn't stalking us from the woods (which would explain why we were the 'only ones left'), we all sat down to lunch.

After taking advantage of indoor plumbing (as compared to the labeled "rustic toliets" throughout the grounds), it was time to see the sights. Our usual tradition is to hike from area to area, and then hop on the Tram near the end of the experience. Almost immediately after leaving the entrance lodge, both Child and Friend were kind enough to inform us of how hot it was. We took that info under advisement, and started booking towards the first settlement. We entered the first building, a Church, and sat down for the re-enactor's lecture, which I have no memory of at all; the dude was simply obsessed with repeating the mantra of "watch your step!" every time someone entered the building. Uninspired, we headed out for the next building.

Friend: (looking a bit glassy-eyed) "I can feel heat coming out from that door!"

Mother: "Uh, yeah....you're right. (peers inside the cabin) It looks like they're cooking some period food on the stove."

(Child and Friend enter the cabin and get as far away from the stove as possible. While the re-enactor unenthusiastically gives her canned shpeil, both kids start edging towards the exit)

Mother: "You guys ready to go?" (Mother is too slow, by the time the question has been asked, the two of them have already high-tailed it out of there).

The next building was the Blacksmith Shop. Friend brought up the very logical point that it was probably hot in there, too (love that kid!). Well, when you're in OWW, you've got to take in all of the experiences, so in we went... The Blacksmith was actually pretty informative, and interesting to listen to. Well, that was until some obvious OWW Blacksmith Groupie disturbed his "flow". This woman started talking to him about his personal life/baby daughter, which caused him to jump out of his 1860s "character". He told all of us observers that, "he is a Blacksmith, and any guy who would want to date his daughter someday better look out!" Friend and Child looked at each other and laughed. Buzzkill.... time to leave the "inferno"!

We paused to look at some goats, and to check out another house. Then...we heard it- THE TRAM! Both kids looked over desperately at it, and then looked at me and Husband. Now being an anal retentive person, my plan was to hike all over the grounds (and get good and tired) and then partake of the lovely transportation. Looking in the kids' faces, however, it was pretty obvious that the Tram was the key to making the whole "experience" a good one. Smug with the proof that Husband and I were, indeed, made of heartier "stock" than a couple of tweenagers, we all boarded the Tram.

Now, if you're unfamiliar with the OWW Trams, let me paint a picture for you... These wonderful, modern modes of transport are driven by some of the finest retired gentlemen that you'd ever want to meet. Bless them, for they have a very high tolernace for driving the same route for up to eight hours a day, and have an amazing knack for taking hairpin turns, w/o capsizing the titanic-sized vehicle. So, as expected, Child's and Friend's faces lit up, as the local dust pummeled their faces, teeth, and hair. Child even launched Friend into yet another laughing fit, as she dramatically flung her head backwards, only to dislodge her hat; which ended up on the edge of the speeding Tram (Mother later rescued it). After about 20 minutes riding in circles, it was time to leave the Tram, and for Child to perform her "mainstage act": Dr. Dolittle!

Those of you who are pretty familiar with both Child and myself know that we are both vegetarians. Our love for animals goes beyond not just abstaining from eating them, but also for conversing with them, as well. At home, Child is able to make a high-pitched chirping noise that her Siamese Sister will chirp right back at (when I try, not so much). Knowing her knack for this, I suggested that she see if she could get the chickens we were standing by to "talk" to her. She made her best chicken noises, and on several different occassions, she got those darn birds to respond to her! After asking her how she did that, Friend once again indulged himself in a little "laugh fest". Soon after, a re-enactor walked by, and told us to go check out the "mother pig". Hmmm..... another animal to charm? Heck, we were on THAT! After looking inside of a couple of pens, we found the pig. We quietly watched her for awhile, before Child, again, worked her mojo. The pig walked over to Child, and stuck her snout through the fence. The pig then proceeded to itch herself from top-to-bottom (read: fence makes good TP, apparently) in front of Child. Laughing fits followed, and then it was time to catch another Tram....

After a stop back into the main lodge for some "vintage" candy sticks, and a blast of a/c in the car, life sprung back into Child and Friend. I think they got a little bit of history out of the whole thing, but, more importantly, they had a whole bunch of fun! That, my friends, is definitely time well spent!

E.T. Phone Home? Yeah, When HELL Freezes Over!

Looking at my title, you're probably wondering if I'm going to be diatribing about my daughter and her phone issues again? My answer is "you betcha"! Funniest thing of all is that her initials really are ET!

The 'ol pink phone is back in it's happy little resting place (her pink backpack) gathering dust. Sounds good, huh? Leave it to Mom to ask for Child's assistance in getting some needed info. Info that might need to be obtained by *gulp* phone....

Mother: "I think that we are going to cook on the grill this weekend when your Friend comes over . Can you please ask him if he's a hot dog, brat, or burger guy?"

Child: "hmmmmmmmm"

Mother: "You are kind of the co-hostess of this whole shebang, and I need to know what to have on hand: help is needed!"

Child: "hmmmmmmpppppp"

Mother: "Can you please ask him when you see him during 4th hour?"

Child: "hmmmmppppsure"

(A day passes, and Mother decides to "check in" with Child to see if the necessary info has been gathered)

Mother: "Well, what did you find out?"

Child: "Huh?"

Mother: "Dinner on Sunday! What did you find out?"

Child: "hmmmpppp"

Mother: "You didn't ask, did you?"

Child: "hmmmpppppno!"

Mother: (going out on a limb) "Are you planning on calling him to ask, since you can't find the time at school?"

Child: (rage and panic erupt on hearing the dreaded word, phone): "nooooooooo! Just buy some stuff! You never ask anyone else who is coming what they like!"

Mother: (taking a deep breath, and using the meditative mantra mentioned in previous post) "Actually, I always check with people that we have over as to their food preferences (sigh)....."

(Child is not impressed, nor is moved to help the cause at hand. Mother realizes that she will probably need to concede on this one.)

Mother: "Do you think that you could e-mail his Mom and ask ("Friend's Mom" is a very understanding person, having once been 12 herself)?"

Child: "Yeah, probably."

Planning to bring a picnic on the outing the four of us are planning on going on, I needed to know the "sandwich preferences" of Child's Friend. Luckily, his Stepfather happened to be hanging in my backyard with me, and I was able to get the info from him. I knew well enough that the info would not be provided by Child....

When we all do get together this weekend, Child has made it clear that she wants time and space to talk/hang with her Friend. I'm guessing that she'll probably talk/laugh non-stop for the whole time. I'll probably have her bring along the pink phone, and if things get too loud, I'll call her at that number: that'll stop her from talking!

Do they have exterminators for "Bold-faced Lies"???

The last 24 hours have been a bit trying in "Thomasville". As a parent, I have three major "hot buttons": not working hard in school, not performing basic hygiene, and being lied to. I have been lucky enough to have gotten a heapin' helping of number three....

Yesterday, my daughter had a friend over. Well, she sort of had a friend over; she had drum lessons with his Dad, and I did some baking with her friend. After the baking/drumming were completed, the kids had some time to hang. I sat with the two of them for awhile, and then excused myself to go sit with the menfolk. Prior to me leaving the table where they were, my daughter had asked if she (like her friend) could have some chips. I reminded her that she just downed a good sized bag of chips at lunch (in addition to 3 of her friend's freshly baked cookies), and that the answer was "no". As I sat in the sunshine with the guys, I heard the distinct sound of chip bags crumpling. I had to decide whether or not to go back in the house, and decided to give my daughter the benefit of the doubt. Later, when wiping down the counters from "cookie time", I found a pile of blue tortilla chip crumbs/pieces on the counter. Interesting, as I had not served those that day. Time to call in the daughter....

Mother: "_____, come down to the kitchen now, please."

Child: "What do you want?"

Mother: "I am wondering why there are blue corn chip crumbs all over the counter? I told you specifically that you could not have chips. What's the deal?"

Child: "( stare that would melt an iceberg)"

Mother: "Look, I'm not dumb. The crumbs are right here....see??? I am looking for the truth here- let's hear it!"

Child: "( blank, rebellious stare)"

Mother: "Alright, you've just lost your iPod for a day for not telling me the truth. I would suggest that you spill it already, or your penalties will compound!"

Child: "( stare-down at the OK Corral)"

Mother: "All right, your bedtime is now 8 (rather than the usual 9). Are you ready to tell me the story behind this?"

Child: (running from the room) "You'remeanandyoujustliketoruinEVERYTHING!"

(Husband follows daughter up to her room. She is told that she can come down when she is ready to explain the "chip incident")

(With loud, thudding steps, Child returns to kitchen)

Mother: "Well?"

Child: " (the "they just can't break me" stare)"

Husband: (to child) "You were told that the only reason you were to leave your room was to explain yourself- well????"

Child: "( the "Mother couldn't possibly take anything else away" stare)"

Mother: "Ok then. Now you have lost your books on CD tonight (Child is addicted to books on CD at bedtime in order to sleep) !"

Child: " (unintelligible screaming, howling, and yelling)"

After the whole "boom boom huckjam meltdown of the century", Child finally admitted that she had helped herself to the chips after specifically being told "no". My husband and I told her that the chips weren't the big issue here; it was the fact that she chose to disobey, and then lied like pinocchio trying to dodge accountability. Some kids might have caved with just the thought of losing a privilege; mine was so stubborn that she willfully managed to lose three of her most important ones before "coming to Jesus".

Lesson to Mother from the whole ordeal: The teenage years are going to be a wild ride, woman, come up with a meditative mantra NOW! Lesson to Child from whole ordeal: When setting out to be deceptive, don't forget to dispose of the evidence of your act!

Phone Follies... Part Deux

If you read my previous post, you are aware that "phone issues" run rampant in my household. Yesterday afternoon, my lovely daughter got brave, only to be demolished by her arch nemesis- the phone...

A couple of days ago, my daughter thought it would be nice to get the cell phone number of her friend, so that she could perhaps (gulp) actually call him. She accomplished goal #1, and secured the phone number. The next day in school, he asked her if she had received his number (as she had secured that privileged info through a third party). She did not summon enough courage to call him that night. Trying to raise a kid that doesn't play "head games", I explained to her yesterday that when you ask someone for their phone number, it is generally understood/expected that you actually intend to call him/her. We talked about it all the way home from school, and she decided that she would make "the call" later that afternoon.

So... she had a snack, petted the neighbor's dog, chatted nervously at me for awhile... then it was time to "----, or get off the pot". I had a bunch of things I needed to finish up that afternoon, and started to leave the room. Like a young child suffering from separation anxiety, she looked at me desperately. And so the drama began....

Child: "Mommy, where are you goooooiiinnggg?????"

Mother: "I'm running outside to tarp my big 'ol pile of brown dirt, then I have to get dinner going."

Child: (glassy-eyed staring begins, color drains from face) "Stay with me while I do this!"

Mother: "I can stay with you for a few minutes, but I really need to get going on my stuff."

(Child rotates pink cell phone in one hand, gripping her friend's cell number in the other. Upon closer examination of Child, it is obvious that her breathing rate has accelerated, and the glassy-eyed stare has been replaced by a look of utter panic)

Child: "I....think....I.....can.....do....this...."

Mother: "Of course you can! You guys are friends! Just go ahead, it'll be fine"

(Child nervously looks back-and-forth between the piece of paper, and the cell phone. It appears that all of the numbers have been entered, yet the phone is nowhere near Child's ear)

Mother: "Uh, you might want to lift that phone up to your ear so you can hear when he answers."

Child: "I haven't hit "talk" yet. I'm scared!!!"

Mother: "You can do it, and you will be fine. That pile of dirt needs to be covered, and dinner's not going to make itself. I have got to get going here...."

Child: "Okay..... OKAY!"

(Child enters all of the digits, and takes the plunge to press "talk". Child's eyes widen in terror, while Mother sits nearby, trying to fade into the back of the ottoman)

"Friend": (answers his phone, for some reason, the volume is soooo loud on the phone that Mother can hear the "goings on" from across the room) "Hello?"

Child: "(shell-shocked silence)"

"Friend": "Hello?"

Child: "Who is this?"

(Mother looks away from child, as to not start laughing. Mother cannot believe that Child has asked the solo owner of the cell phone who he is in such a rude, abrupt tone. Mother starts contemplating whether professional etiquette lessons on the art of telephoning might be in order...)

"Friend": "It's _____."

(Now here is where I need you to put on your "vision goggles", and work with me. If you remember the series "Twin Peaks", on the series finale, some of the characters started talking so fast, that subtitles appeared on the bottom of the screen. Hold this image in your mind now...)

Child: (miraculously, while beginning to hyperventilate, takes a breath big enough to belt out what will follow) "It's_____.Iwaswonderingifyouandyourfriendsmightwanttositinthecafeteriatomorrowatlunchwithmeandmyfriends?

"Friend": "Umm (pause...................pause), I could ask them tomorrow."

Child: "okaybye"

"Friend": "seeyoubye"

After my daughter hung up, she sat and looked at her cell phone silently for about thirty seconds. She then looked up at me, and then the "waterworks" started:

Child: "I am so bad on the phone. He won't like me anymore. I am not going to school tomorrow!!!! He hates me....he HATES me!!!!!"

Mother: "The only thing you need to change is when you call someone, don't ask them in a harsh tone who they are: rather, start with 'Hi, this is _____, can I please speak with_____?' Memorize this and just use it as your mantra. Problem solved."

Problem was not so easily solved, as my daughter went outside to stew about the phone follies for almost an hour in the backyard. Believing that nature can heal a multitude of sins, I felt it was best to leave her out there to "work things through" in her head. Eventually, she decided that she needed her Mom, and came back into the house.

Mother: "Are you feeling any better?"

Child: (speaking softly, looking at the ground) "Sort of."

Mother: "Do you want to practice talking on the phone? You can go upstairs with your cell, and call me on the house phone."

Child: (smile appearing on face) "Yeah, let's do that!"

So... we practiced the "mantra", and general small talk for awhile. When we were done, she charged up the pink phone, and put it away in her backpack. Equilibrium was restored in the "tween universe"; at least until the next time an ocassion to "reach-out-and-touch-someone" transpires....

The Amazing, Mystifying, Puzzling Telephone....

My little family has always had "issues" with the telephone. For some reason, I am the only one who hears the darn thing ring. Also, unless, specifically asked/confronted, knowledge of someone calling our abode isn't always forthcoming. The first two issues are shared by my husband and me: when we added our daughter to the mix, things got a whole lot more interesting.

When I was my daughter's age (12), I used to gab on the phone with my friends all of the time. If we weren't in each other's physical space, we were on the phone. From the time that she was quite young, I have encouraged her to call a friend herself (after clearing plans with me, of course) to initiate a playdate. The whole scene would go down like this:

Child: "IIIIIII'mmmmmm boooorrrred!"

Mother: "Why don't you call a friend to have over? I can drive one way."

Child: "What if someone answers the phhoonneee?"

Mother: "That's kind of how those devices work, dear."

Child: "Whhaaat dooo IIIII saaayyyy theeeennn?"

Mother: "I've instructed you on phone manners for years (sigh). Introduce yourself to whoever answers, and then ask for ___."

(Child turns on her heel, and leaves the room)

Mother: "Where are you going? Aren't you going to call someone?"

Child: "Nevermind"

Knowing well that my daughter had "issues" with using a phone, I still felt that she should get a cell phone for the start of Middle School. We had a nice "family trip" to the Sprint Store to obtain a most pleasing communication device. Here were the highlights:

Mother: "Well, let's see what they have here. See anything you like?"

Child: "I like THAT one! It's pink and looks like a Blackberry! Cool!" (Father has a Blackberry that he's leashed to for work)

(Mother, Father, and Daughter go to find a helpful Sprint Associate to "close the deal")

Mother ( to Sprint Guy): "Hi, we'd like to get our daughter this phone here, and then add her to our plan. I would like you to disable texting and the internet on her phone, please."

Sprint Guy: "( glazed-over stare of disbelief, as getting rid of said features is just unheard of. He looks over at Daughter with a sympathetic look, as, obviously, Mother is just so clueless)"

Daughter: (in a mildly huffy tone) "If I can't text with it, what's the point of having a cell phone?"

Mother: "It's a phone... you can use it to reach Father or me in an emergency... with your actual voice!"

(Child looks at Sprint Guy, who is powerless to do anything but Mother's bidding- darn!!)

Turns out that within the first couple months of school, daughter actually used her voice on her phone to summon me back to school to get her, as a power outage closed down the school. Since then, powered only by sweet tween voice, the lovely pink "blackberry" is sporting some pretty serious dust...

Yesterday, the phone issues took quite the humorous turn. Daughter has a good friend, who is a guy. They have been friends for about two years now. Although they were in the same homeroom in 5th Grade (and saw each other for most of the day), they only were in one class this year, for all of 7 weeks. Because her friend's parents are divorced, he travels between homes; therefore, there are twice as many homes to call in order to locate him, and (gulp) twice as many people who could possibly answer a phone (gasp). Because of "parental cruise directing", they have been able to get together this year w/o having to use a phone. Recently, Daughter got wind of the fact that he had a cell phone. Now things became interesting:

Child: "Mom, I think I'd like to have ___'s cell phone number. Can you get it from his Mom?"

Mother: "Here's her number, you can call."

Child: "(Blank, horrified look. She expects ME to initiate phone contact????)"

Mother: "Oh, for heaven's sake already! Do you want to send an e-mail to her?"

Child: (smile creeps across her face, voice-to-voice contact can be avoided)"Yes."

So, Daughter wrote a nice e-mail, and sent it off to her friend's Mom. The next day in school, her friend asked her if she got his cell number, appearing not to mind that she had "the digits". When she got home from school, I showed her where I wrote it down, for her use. This, of course, led to the nosy/stupid "Mother Question of the Day":

Mother: "So, are you going to give him a buzz?"

Child: "Why would I do that? What am I supposed to say?"

Mother: "YOU...just...requested...HIS...phone...number!!!! When the two of you get together, you talk non-stop! I don't know! Ask about how his soccer is going... talk about school... you know, STUFF!"

Child: "Aren't girls not supposed to call boys?"

Mother: (taking a deep breath)"I don't believe that's a guideline for this time in history on Planet Earth!"

Child: (walking out of the room) "Oh."

I feel sorry for the poor kid. He's probably wondering why his friend went out of her way to get his phone number, and then didn't call. What would I say to him? I would just tell him that in our family, "phone issues" are genetic!

Moms, Let's Stick Together and Ban the "After Parties" Already!!!!

For those of you who know that I have a daughter who's just twelve, you're probably wondering what the heck I am EVEN bringing up an "after party" for in the first place. For my own snarky purposes, I'll define an "after party" as follows: an event that occurs when 3 or more girls get together, and, unbeknownst to one of the girls, the other girls plan on continuing to hang-out after the third girl goes home (thinking the "hang date" is over for ALL of them).

In the past school year, my daughter has been the unfortunate "third wheel" twice. The first time it happened, she was invited to a birthday party. When I read the invite, it specified an evening of dinner/bowling, ending around 9 with the "Birthday Girl's Mom" providing rides home. Sounded good, I thought. Two days before the party, my daughter told me that she would need to assemble her sleepover stuff for that party. I questioned her as to why, as the invitation said that the party ended around 9. It turned out that out of a party of 6 girls, the "Birthday Girl's Mom" told her daughter that she could only have two girls stay for a sleepover. From what my daughter told me, this was a common practice for "BG's Mom". In order to pull-off the little heist, the plan was to load ALL of the girls into a minivan to drive home, but , mysteriously, the "chosen girls" would be the "last" to be driven home ( returned to the house for more fun). My daughter then happily told me that SHE got to be one of the chosen 2! I told her that I thought the whole scheme was pretty smarmy, and that sneaking her sleepover gear to the girl's house before the party was a little too "on the down low" for my taste. As the party date grew closer, apparently, the "Birthday Girl's Mom" had a second thought about this, and decided not to go through with the it. My daughter was OK with this, and set out looking forward to a fun-filled evening. When she arrived home that night, she was a bit upset, as the "birthday girl's" long-term BFF was not brought home before my daughter; rather they "passed by" her house to drop my daughter at home. Hmmmmmmm.....

The other time my daughter got passed over for the "after party" was at a daytime playdate with a handful of other girls. When I agreed to let her go, I made sure that I knew what time I should arrive to get her. When I arrived at the designated hour, there were no other parents picking up their girls. Being a chronic "early bird", I just let my suspicions go. My daughter saw a couple of the girls a day later, and they asked how her evening was. Since it was just spent with her doting parents, she was a bit lukewarm. They were nice enough, however, to let her know that they had a great evening; the Mom of the "hostess" agreed to let the them stay for a sleepover!

While I certainly don't think that I know everything about parenting girls (and I don't hold a PhD in child psychology), I believe that when we (Mothers) allow our daughters to engage in decepetions like this, it's just plain wrong. Many of us with daughters are very aware about the whole "Mean Girl Phenomena". Social learning begins at home, with our daughters' primary teachers- us. Sure, it's harder to have 6 girls stay overnight than it is to have only 2, but is the extra ease worth teaching your daughter that it is "ok" to deceive the other 4? Isn't it the right thing to stand up and tell your daughter that she should call the girl who went home (on time) from the playdate and tell her that the other girls decided to have a "sleepover", checking to see if she wants to rejoin the group? Girls this age need a lot of coaching on social/emotional stuff: in order to raise socially aware and empathetic daughters, we can't afford to "drop the ball" on this issue.

It wasn't easy listening to my daughter's disappointment/anger in being left out after those experiences. One thing that did make me happy, though, was that she had such difficulty understanding why/how this could happen because, in her own words, "I don't do this to my friends!" Not a fun lesson, but one which illustrated the importance of treating others well.

Sometimes, teaching tolerance can come back to bite you....

Starting from the time my daughter was able to look around the world, and notice the individual differences from person-to-person, we started talking with her about how people should be "fairly judged". As you can imagine, I'm talking about the whole "looking beyond someone's physical appearance, to see who they are inside" business. We taught, she listened, all seemed well...

To start with, I am about as far from a "fashionista" as one can get. I have never been to a nail salon, never colored my hair, wear minimal make-up, and am on the yearly hair-trim plan. Needless to say, we do not subscribe in our household to the "typical media images" of what female beauty should be. I do, however, preach about the importance of using soap, shampoo/conditioner, and a razor. My twelve year-old daughter...well... she doesn't want to be the "choir".... Here are some of the highlights of our family "drama" in this department, in three Acts:

ACT 1: NO "POO" !!!!!!

Mother: "I was checking the shampoo level in your bottle today, because I am going to Target. It is just as full today as it was last week. What gives?"

Child: "I use it (nervously looking anywhere but in Mother's direction)."

Mother: "If you are thoroughly cleaning your head, why is just the long part of your hair clean? Your scalp hair is literally frozen in place: you look like you're wearing a "dirty hair mullet"!!!!

Child: "Hmmmppp. Fine. Go away!!!!! (door slams)

Mother: (yelling through closed bathroom door) "Just...clean...your...whole....darn... head, please!"

ACT 2: The Mystery of the Never Shrinking Soap...

Mother: (in a sweet tone, trying to minimize the trauma of the act of showering, which, supposedly, just occurred)"Which soap did you enjoy using in your shower tonight (child currently has 3 bars of soap, and one bottle of gel in shower)?"

Child: "(uninteligible gutteral grumbling)"

Mother: "What?$%!?"

Child: "Soap! I said S-O-A-P!!! Wow, Mom...... Now go away!"

Mother: " If you used S-O-A-P, why can't I smell any hint of fragrance on you?"

Child: "It's the darn water's fault you can't smell anything... Now go away (hard water, apparently, masks all fragrances, except BO)!!!!


ACT 3: All the Little Hairs....

Child: "Mom, can I wear my new shorts tomorrow?"

Mother: "Sure, but be sure to shave your legs tonight."

Child: "I don't want to. You do it."

Mother: "I've showed you how to do it many times... you need to take care of this on your own now."

Child: " (uninteligible gutteral balking noises)"

Child: "No one else my age has to do this!!!!"

Mother: "Remember how excited you were to get that razor last Summer? What's the big deal about it already??? (Mother pauses as she has a moment of insight, which could result in her winning the argument) You do know, don't you, that when your legs are smooth, you can see your muscle tone better (Mother holds her breath, and hopes for the best)?"

Child: (child studies her leg muscles, and flexes them) "Really?"

Mother: "Yep."

Child: "Ohhh.... alright. Now go away!!!"

Yes, through the years we have taught our daughter that she should never judge another person based on their clothes or physical appearance. Now, being the sophisticated almost Teen, she has come back at us that we shouldn't be able to judge her on her lack of "hygiene", either ......GOTCHA!!!

Right now, there is more than enough hot water to go around. She's a pretty "cheap date" to keep supplied in tolietries. I should probably "watch what I wish for", as the tide could change all too soon, and then I'll be complaining about the opposite problem....

An open letter to my daughter on Mother's Day....

Today is the 12th Mother's Day that I have celebrated, because you are in my life. Some of them were rainy, some sunny. Some went according to the "plan"; others meandered down their own trail.... but for all of them, we were together.

When I became your Mother 12 years ago, I had no experience and no mentor. You were new at the whole experience of being a baby. Over a couple of weeks, I learned that your cries had different meanings. You learned patience, as it took me some time to figure that out.

When you were four months old, I found out that you would have some visual challenges. The Doctor told me it would be a couple years before we knew exactly what the outcome would be. You kept on playing with your rattles, your board books, your baby gym. I watched as you seemed so content in your world, and that helped me worry a little bit less.

When you were a preschooler, I found out that your vision was the best case scenario that we could have hoped for- what a relief! We were told, though, that you would probably never ride a bike, and would probably be a bit delayed in gross motor activities.

When you were in 1st Grade, with fierce determination, you taught yourself to ride that bike in the alley behind our house. Not only did you ride it, but you rode it fearlessly. Around this same time, you also started gymnastics classes. At first, you would fall off of the floor beam after almost every step. You worked so hard in your classes, and were eventually invited to join the Team, where you would compete ALL events... including that beam.

When you started school, you showed a love of learning, an ability to connect with your teachers,
and a knack for picking fun friends. Sometimes the lessons got a bit hard, and sometimes you got a teacher that didn't quite "get" you as much. At times, the girls that you felt the closest to became like strangers. Through all of that, you learned how to be a true friend, and how to recognize, in turn, if someone was being a true friend to you.

You developed your first crush this year, and shared those new and intense feelings with me. Listening to you talk about it showed me what you have learned about love in your short life. Hearing you speak about your feelings brought tears to my eyes at times. I could see from our talks that you knew how to choose the right person, for all of the right reasons.

On today's Mother's Day, you are almost my full height. You are at a place where you are formulating your own ideas and opinions about the world, but still want to "check-in" with me from time-to-time. You are capable of fully opening your life to me, but also need the reassurance of your own space, to make sense of so many new things. I look at you and am so impressed at the smart, empathetic, and funny person you have become. I dream of where those gifts will take you someday.

These past 12 years have gone by so quickly, and in 6 more years, I will be preparing to "launch you" into the world. I wonder what our connection will be like when I am no longer responsible for "raising" you. Someday, you may even become a mother. If you do, I wonder what parts of your own childhood you will continue with your own child(ren), and what you will choose to do differently.

Today, I wish you a "Happy Mother's Day", too, because had it not been for you, today would have been just any other day for me. We have our wonderful talks, and our predictable arguments. We don't always see eye-to-eye on the proper level of cleanliness for rooms, or for self. We are a part of one another. While we once shared a body, now we are connected through our hearts. I value all that having been your Mother so far has taught me, and I'm open to what will come................

Love,
Mommy

I'd like to make a reservation for puberty; party of one, please!

A couple of years back, I either read, or was told, that having a daughter entering puberty can be very distressing to her Mom. What I'm talking about goes beyond dreading the inevitable mood swings, and obsessions with boys. The "real rub" is that for many of us Moms, as our daughters are starting to "come into their own" physically, nature takes us on a journey in the other direction. I even heard this process referred to as a sort of "battle" between Mom and daughter for status as "alpha female" (in the animal kingdom, after all, natural selection favors the young and healthy). As things were pretty status quo around our house back then, I took that in as interesting info to file away for future use. Well, the future is now...

Around here, the last two weeks were very touch-and-go; a lot of temper outbursts, skin eruptions, and foodstuff consumed. All of a sudden, jeans purchased a month ago were getting even snugger than is the "skinny jean" style, and the airbag in the passenger seat was no longer being turned off . The point was finally driven home to me when she dramatically announced that when she jumped up and down, other "things" were "jumping", too. No turning back now....

So, this is where it all starts to get interesting. Some Moms seem to have the "if you can't beat 'em, them join 'em attitudes." These Moms are pretty easy to spot, as they dress as similarly to their daughters as possible. When flipping through Facebook, these are also the Moms who post profile pics of themselves in ultra-revealing clothing (read: bikinis- yes, I have seen two of these already!). Pop culture has even invented a term for this kind of Mom- MILF (I'm not going to say what this means here- if you need to know, go to urbandictionary.com). What a treat for Dad; you get two "teenage girls" instead of one!!

As far as I'm concerned, my daughter's puberty is all hers. I had my "go of it", now it's her turn. She needs me for transportation, sage advice, nagging for homework and drums, healthy meals, and rides to the Gym. She doesn't need to look at me, and feel like I'm trying to morph myself into her. The other day, we were bickering about the fact that I thought her pants looked too "skinny" to be paired with such a close-fitting shirt. She looked at me, in my yoga pants and T (my 'walking uniform' ), and hissed, "You should really do something about your clothes!" When I explained that I am not really into clothes shopping/fashion, a smile crept across her face, and she said enthusiastically, "I can help you with that, Mom!" The simple fact that she knew in her heart that I would not try to de-throne her as the resident "teenager" led to a pretty cool bonding moment.

As the only kid in our family, she will be "dining" solo at the Puberty Cafe. I will not be sampling all of the different items on the menu with her. She will have to be prepared to independently "pay" for the selections that she makes. You can count on the fact, however, that I'll be there to be her 'designated driver', to make sure that she's safe and sound during the journey.

Playing with the 'big boys'...

This morning, I woke up with a sense of dread. For the first time in three years, I would be needing to deliver myself and vehicle to the VW dealer. Why should such a simple act be so loathesome, you ask? Well, let me tell you all about it....

I had used the Mazda service within the same dealership for years. I'd walk in and be all like, "Hi". They'd be all like, "Hi, what can WE do for YOU today?" I'd be like, "This needs tweaking, this needs tuning, and I've still got my warranty going on." They'd be like, "Sure thing. Can we perform our Mazda full-circle check for you? How about a free car wash?" I'd be like, ":)". Can't argue with any of that...

Sometimes, when I was still primarily driving the Mazda, I'd swap cars and service my husband's VW. I'd walk in and be like, "Hi, I'm here with my Passat". They'd be like, "(ignore)". After a minute, or so, the service adviser would be able to detach his/herself away from the computer screen to deal with me, the "live one". I'd then be like, "My windows are not operating well, and my door locks are malfunctioning." They'd be like, "Well, you might have done something to that vehicle. Sometimes we open these things up and find gummy bears in them. If that's the case, VW won't honor your warranty." So, I'd be like, "No worries about the gummy bears, dude. My daughter and I are both vegetarians, and gummy bears have gelatin in them- an animal derived substance that we do not partake of." They'd then look at me like, "What the hell, lady!@#?" Needless to say, to get anything repaired under warranty on that vehicle required a stressful interrogation...

So, after the last "gummy bear situation", I decided to just have the local tire store/oil change guys do anything routine. There have been some "oopses" with these guys, but they're pretty good about fixing their mistakes. Recently, one of my gauges went cattywaumpas crazy, and started moving all around, as if it was detecting seismic activity. My local guys were a bit shy to peek under my car's dashboard (awwww isn't that so sweet!), so they recommended that I go to the...gulp...Dealer. This blow was softened a bit by the fact that my husband found an extended warranty for the car he forgot we even had! Yee Ha! Just let them try the whole gummny bear excuse again...

At 9:30, the car and I arrived. Since my last visit, I noticed that they had gotten rid of the VW dudes, and replaced them with some VW chicks. Please don't think that I have anything against women working in this field, because I don't; I just want the person on the other side of the counter to have a little more background on cars than I do. Today, my service advisor was Anne. I told Anne the reason for my visit (possessed gauge, and vent system making noises that could raise the dead). She then lumbered over to my vehicle to check it in. She came back to me and said sweetly, "Your warranty is up. You have too many miles." I told her that she was mistaken, and to go back and recheck it. She did, and replied" I hate when I read the wrong numbers." Catherine: 1, Anne: 0. With that little snafu unsnarled, she sent me up to the waiting room, while the area under my car's hood was CSI'd.

About an hour later, Anne came up to see me. Turns out that my initial diagnosis of the gauge was correct, but the tech couldn't reproduce the ear-peeling noise through the vents, and wanted to go out for a drive with me. Yee ha... I got to drive around Glendale with some dude I didn't know... I explained to the tech that the noise was set-off when going over uneven roads/railroad tracks/thick asphalt patches. He looked at me like, "I get paid no matter what you say lady. I really don't care." I drove the two of us around, trying to hit any, and every, pothole that I could find to "show him". Heck, I even wove around in front of the Glendale PD trying to find a road defect to prove my point. Bottom line: I could not get the car to cooperate. At that point, he was probably happy that he was "sprung from the office" for a bit. I was frustrated that my car, like a child, would not perform on demand. I asked him if he could diagnose the issue from my description. He had a pretty good idea of what it could be, but still felt he should hear it before doing anything. I sat there, as a woman with an extended warranty with less than 2 months to go... I was desperate: time to talk to the "big boy"!

Tech and I met up again with Anne, and told her that we could not reproduce the noise. She tinkered with that thought for awhile, and then said, "Maybe we should get Steve?" That sounded good to me- let's climb up the ladder, and get this moving! She proceeded to page Steve three times, all to no avail. While she continued to summon him, I rehearsed in my head what to say, how to stand, etc. Anne looked up and announced, "Oh, there he is." As Steve approached, I assumed my "power stance" (which I have read is used by men in negotiations to basically assert their dominance): legs slightly apart, arms loosely folded across chest, full eye contact. Much to my chagrin, Steve didn't need to much convincing. Between my description of the issue, and the tech's opinion, I would be set to get a new vent blower system. Now came the most difficult part; Anne would need to call the warranty company and convincingly tell them what needed to be done at THEIR expense. Steve told Anne what to say to the adjustors, and waited for her to dial the phone. The look on her face could best be described as the major "DUUHHH" expression that Joan Cusack is always sporting. I asked her point blank if she was experienced at making these types of calls. She assured me that she was, and Steve and I hung-out while the call was placed. Go 'Team Anne'- bring it home for us! Between mouthfuls of diet yogurt, she somehow managed to work her "mojo" with GE Auto Warranty, and both repairs were authorized!

Just like in a game show, there was a consolation prize in this story. Anne wasn't able to get the work done today, and arranged for me to get a compensated rental through the warranty. I am driving a CLEAN (as compared to my vehicle, "The Garbage Can on Wheels") vehicle, both inside and out, with touch screen radio controls for the next twenty-four hours (contented sigh). This comes at the perfect time, because all I asked for for Mother's Day was for my vehicle to be washed/vacuumed: I might just get that twice this week :) !

Navigating amongst the "Special People"

A couple of posts ago, I mentioned that I am a diehard "foodie". Being as such, there is one special place to go for groceries in my area- Sendiks'.

Sendiks' is what one would call an upscale grocery store. When I was a girl, my father used to tell me that the owners had mafia connections, and if the produce wasn't to their liking, they'd arrange for a hit... Anyway, they have a better selection than the local Pick 'N Save, so there I shop....

After spending a good part of the day trying to release Satan's grip on the landscape fabric covering a good part of my foundation, it occurred to me that the "fam" might want the third meal of the day that evening. You guessed it... off to shop at Sendiks'!

I am the kind of chick who always shops with a list. I know where everything is, have a set order for how I proceed through the aisles, and generally "haul ass" through the store. Unfortunately, despite the fact that this store carries some great raw ingredients to whip up a pretty darn gourmet spread, it is also patronized by "special people". These "special people" are the women who go there to "see and be seen", and probably have no interest/aptitude for food preparation (take-out/lean cuisine/household help- you get it, right?). Sometimes, the "special people" and I are set on a course set for disaster...

So... yesterday, I selected the perfect block of cheddar, and was getting ready to head to the registers. As I turned a cautious right, there were two women, and carts, strategically placed perpendicularly in my path. I slowly approached them, assuming that they, like the Red Sea, would part. Nope. All of a sudden, another woman also came upon these clucking hens from the opposite direction; the Red Sea didn't part for her, either. I looked at her, and then she looked at me. I think the translation of that exchange was probably as follows: "Oh, please, don't stop talking! It's all about the two of you!! Never mind us, we'll just turn around 180 degrees with a rusted-out cart and meander around the l-o-n-g way. We're here to make your life easier, after all!" I'm pretty convinced of the power of my "look of death", but the other trapped woman really had it down. With great fanfare, the "special people" parted just enough so we could eek by, one at a time. Not to be outdone, I gave my best glare as I passed by with my loot. Do you think they cared???

I love cooking, and I love eating. In order to accomplish both, a trip to the grocery store is required. "Special People", please give our Sendiks' back to those of us who appreciate it, and use it for what it was intended; you can "stop traffic" all you want at the nail salon and botox parlor!