jools (also a beloved child) – Page 4

Category: jools (also a beloved child)

pet peeve: people who cut in line

Posted on November 2, 2010October 12, 2010 by wrekehavoc

there’s only one line you can cut me on: the line to hell.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=71IFbyQ7D-o

we have become a nation of people who believe that rules are there for other people to observe. somehow, other poor schmucks should be reading and following the words on a sign or face severe penalties. lines are there to control crowds, make order out of chaos, and keep people from going where they oughtn’t. the rules of lines are clearly outlined in kindergarten: someone is in front, then everyone else is behind him or her. and we wait until we get our chance to be wherever it is we wish to be.

but not you, my friend. for you are special.

you do not need no stinkin’ line. lines are for suckers. so you trample my kids at the Costco checkout like an elephant on speed and push in front of us because you’re bigger. (mommy needs a moment to get herself together and not bark at the other grownup, i found myself saying to jools when he started marveling at what happened. what i really needed was a mojito and perhaps a water pistol. but i digress.) you ignore the mile-long line of ladies waiting desperately to pee at the concert. you let your kids push in front of all the other kids at the moonbounce.

i think what grinds my gears the most about this: what you are teaching your children… and mine. i get that there are emergencies at times, and i am most willing to give up my place in line to someone who needs it more for very serious reasons. but you are teaching your kids that other people do not matter as much as they do in all arenas of life. and for those of us who are trying to teach our children that lines are part of life, you are showing them that following the rules does not pay.

in short: you suck, and you are making your kids suck, too.

i have a special memory. we are in disneyworld, a land that makes me break out in hives inherently for so many, many reasons (some of which i have shared here. and here. and here. (among other places.) you may ask yourself why i continue to go to disney. i wish i had a good answer for you, but in short, i am often outvoted. and there are bright spots to it, of course, starting with the fact that i actually get to go ON A VACATION. a huge plus, and not something everyone gets to do these days. i wrote about it once, but i thought i’d end with this little bit.

we were waiting on line for the animal safari in animal kingdom — a neat place and a neat ride, incidentally. i like to use lines as a teachable lesson for my kids. you know, an exercise in patience and fairness? a woman and her two kids continually tried to push ahead of us, the family ahead of us, and the older couple on the motorized scooter in front of them. eventually, they succeeded, hitting their trifecta of triumph. what we didn’t know: the woman’s friend and the friend’s young son did not push ahead and remained behind us. why are you so far behind? miss pushypushy asked her friend. why don’t you come up here and join us?

in one of the rarest moments ever, BS and i said in unison, NO! we had had it. for 20 minutes, this woman kept on pushing, nearly trampling over people. i added, if you’d like to join your friends, you can move back and join them.

i noticed that the friend behind us suddenly had a few words with BS. i didn’t hear them at first, so i asked BS what the woman left behind had said.

he replied: she told me “have a nice day! hope you get sent to iraq!”

yes. it’s a small world, after all.

do not touch?

Posted on October 12, 2010October 11, 2010 by wrekehavoc

Recently, I was at elementary school, talking with our gym teacher about my son. I’ve noticed lately that the boy likes to stand on his head, flip around, and basically bounce. A lot. While team sports don’t seem to work well for him yet, some sort of physical activity would probably be beneficial for energetic little him, for me, and frankly, for the rest of the world. (You can thank me later.)

In short, I’m wondering whether gymnastics might be a way to go for him.

I hearkened back to my own gym experience. We had entire units on tumbling, on the rings, on the pommel horse. While I never did grow up to be Nadia Comăneci (and yes, I know I am dating myself, you Mary Lou Rettons out there), I enjoyed gymnastics — the weightlessness, even for just that second, before flying over the horse (and often into one of my less intelligent classmates who didn’t move away from it fast enough.) Leaping ever so carefully on the balance beam. What I would give to be able to perform those flips I once did without living in fear that I’d require traction and anti-inflammatories!

So I asked our gym teacher: when will my son’s class get to do a unit on gymnastics? His reply?

Not in this school.

Apparently, the threat of litigation has backburnered this pursuit in our public school. I was told that when a teacher spots a student, he or she may have to actually touch the child; and since movement is involved, there is too much fear that a teacher might accidentally be in contact with a child in an improper manner. And even if that contact is purely accidental, the fear of getting sued, losing your job, and having your reputation sullied beyond all recognition outweighs the possibility of teaching a child to discover this ancient athletic pursuit.

Obviously, my sympathies are ever-present with any child who has fallen victim to a predatory adult; and there’s no question that persons in power who are abusive ought to be severely punished. However, this situation makes me think about where we are going as a society. When teachers cannot teach to children because of a fear that they may touch a child and that the child, in turn, may cry foul (whether true or not), what is lost? There’s a certain communication that comes with physicality; and while I don’t advocate that teachers go out of their way to lay hands on their pupils, this scenario tells me that litigiousness has won the day. And how sad: for I remember fondly teachers patting me on the head, hugging me, and yes, spotting me in gymnastics. I know how I appreciated all of these gestures; and I mourn the fact that my children will likely have radically different educational experiences with their teachers. There will be little touching.

There is a beautifully sad story entitled Hands in Sherwood Anderson’s masterpiece Winesburg, Ohio that concerns a dedicated teacher named Wing Biddlebaum. Biddlebaum is estranged from society for decades because he has one “flaw”: he expresses himself with his hands. The story shares that in his younger years, Biddlebaum was a teacher who never touched any child inappropriately, but who caressed his students’ heads and shoulders in a supportive manner. Unfortunately, one day, a “half-witted boy” falsely alleged molestation, and Biddlebaum was driven from another town to Winesburg, where he lived alone on the outskirts, cut off because of his hands. He feared communicating with anyone ever again, all because of his fluttering, expressive hands.

Such a loss.

Originally posted on Smartly.

guilty pleasure monday: don’t cry (seal)

Posted on September 13, 2010September 12, 2010 by wrekehavoc

as a matter of fact, heidi klum has nothing to do with this selection.

september has started off really poorly. two friends of mine have lost parents, and i ache for them. my parents have lost a dear friend who has battled parkinsons for a long, long time. september 11 continues to remind us that there is still great division in our nation and in our world. and on the really micro level, BC had a fairly miserable first week as a middle schooler, drawing the lucky straw that put her in the one team that has no other girls from her elementary school. (there are three teams in her grade. every other girl from her school is in one of those two teams.) the principal, realizing the error, was willing to move the girl into one of the other teams; but by this time, different supplies are already bought, project assignments are made, lockers are already figured out. the girl has decided to stay put and make the best of things.

on the bright side, jools has been placed with a teacher about whom i have heard wonderful things, with two of his best girlfriends as classmates. i haven’t heard anything bad from school yet, so i am hopeful that this year will be a good one. also, our home renovation is complete, and so while i grumble steadily about the amount of work it is to put my home back in order, i am very grateful that we could accomplish this on time and on budget (and that BS and i remain married in spite of the stressful time.) and, most importantly, everyone in my family seems to be relatively healthy.

in short, i am trying to focus on the bright side of things. but it’s really, really difficult sometimes. yom kippur, the day of atonement, is coming soon, and so i am thinking about all the negative things i might have done during the past year. i am genuinely sorry about plenty of things.

it makes me want to cry.

but i also know that i oughtn’t. and hence, the selection of seal’s don’t cry.

i’m armed with my tissues. but i’m hoping i won’t need to use them.

float on

Posted on August 3, 2010May 29, 2014 by wrekehavoc

rest in peace, psychofish.

this past weekend, jools’ pet beta, psychofish, went to the great big fishbowl in the sky. truth be told, he went into a deep hole in our backyard, in accordance with jools’ wishes. i gave the boy the choice, of course: a burial at sea [read: flushed down the toilet], where psycho would ultimately rejoin his fellow fish in the chesapeake bay; or a hole in our backyard. BC protested about the latter; she didn’t want psycho dug up and eaten by some cat. but it was jools’ fish and jools’ decision, so he asked BS to go out back and dig a deep, deep hole with him.

i never wanted a fish. we don’t have dogs or cats because of our allergies. and we never thought to have a fish, either, until jools’ preschool graduation a few years back. along with a diploma, the teachers thought it would be incredibly cute to give each child a beta fish. they neglected to consult with any parents as to whether this would be a good present for the kids.

i could hardly contain my joy.

suddenly, we were in the position to have to run out to a pet store and find a more suitable home for the fish (assuming the sandwich bag would hold for that long) as well as food. oh, and how about some cute little plastic foliage for the fish to enjoy while we’re at it? and considering that the recipient has an older sister? make that two of each plus another fish to go, please.

talk about the gift that kept on giving.

anyway, BC and jools both named their respective fishes with normal, friendly names. however, as the lady who fed them and talked to them each day, i gave them different names, names that stuck. BC’s beta, who is terrified of his own shadow, was re-named scaredyfish. and jools’ fish? the fish that acted like a dog and actually sat on his tail and begged for food? the fish that came to the edge of the bowl and would look to me for conversation? what a mondo bizarro little dude. i dubbed him psychofish. and i’ll be damned if i didn’t get attached to the little guy. he even seemed to like it when i played the police really, really loud.

when he started to fall ill about three months ago, i started to fret. he began hanging out in his pink palm tree more than usual. (fish in a tree? how can that be?) after awhile, he just plunked down on the rocks on the bottom of his bowl and remained listless. i came to realize that something was keeping him from swimming, like a disease of some sort that affected his fin or fins. we tried cleaning his bowl a bit. i ran out to petsmart and found some fishy tetracycline. we tried this other stuff that was supposed to kill all the nasties in his water.

but nothing worked.

when i found him at the bottom, bloated and not moving, i cried. i knew i had to get it out mostly before the kids saw me or else they, too, would completely lose it. and when the kids came home from their swim, i said to BS: la poisson est morte. (we always speak french, albeit grammatically incorrect french, when we don’t want the kids to understand us. this plan will officially backfire next year, when BC has announced her plans to take the language in middle school.) he looked at me sympathetically; i then announced a family meeting where burial plans were decided and men were sent out to dig.

after covering ourselves in plenty of bug spray, we ventured out into the deepest, darkest corner of our yard, thick with vegetation (that probably is where jimmy hoffa currently resides.) there, BS, with jools’ help, had dug a final resting place for psychofish. BS had wrapped psychofish in the garment of ages, a paper lunch sack, and placed him gingerly in the hole. as BS started to shovel the dirt over our fishy friend, we all said a few words about the beta. then, as three of us are red sea pedestrians, BC and i said mourner’s kaddish, leading me to wonder whether G-d would strike me down for saying kaddish for a fish. (then again, that moment also made me smile because BC has been paying attention in services enough to know exactly when to say certain critical parts of the prayer.)

and then, jools started asking for a bigger fish.

betty lou’s gettin’ out tonight

Posted on July 28, 2010 by wrekehavoc

SQUEE!

i envy those people who have family nearby… the kind of family who will take your kids for a few hours so you can actually save your marriage and sanity… visit a restaurant that doesn’t feature kiddie menus… watch movies where the characters say fuck and other assorted potty words. what a life you people must lead! unfortunately, our family lives 200 miles away, so this sort of thing won’t work for us. so of course you say, get a sitter. sounds easy, right? but when you live in a place where you don’t actually know anyone of the appropriate sitter age or disposition, it gets a bit dicey. i once posted a sign at our neighborhood pool looking for a sitter; not much panned out. i also made a cute little flyer once and brought it to the university down the street; sadly, that one sitter only lasted for a time or two before her social life became overwhelming. anyway, as we live in the DC Metro, i was always a bit leery of anyone i might meet with no connection who would actually want to sit with my kids. without fingerprints and a background check, i would probably pass.

and i mostly did. FOR YEARS.

although i would point out the time when one of our kids’ preschool teachers came to sit for us. her 20-something daughter joined her mom at my house while the mom was babysitting one evening. not a big deal, of course. but then, the girl decided to wash her hair and managed to actually clog our drain. somehow, while the idea of visiting my friends who were babysitting occurred to me in my younger years, deciding to take a shower in a stranger’s bathroom…that’s even a little too quirky for me, and i put the irk in quirky.

but i digress. per usual.

anyway, BS and i have hardly gone out for years. (forget about the fact that we have actually been on a single overnight exactly once in our short but eventful careers as parents.) so when one of jools’ classmates’ moms mentioned her sitter, who i knew to be a daughter of a friend of mine, i gasped: could this finally be the time BS and i could go out and actually feel good about our babysitting choice? the young lady agreed to come over, so i bought tickets to see crowded house at wolf trap. i couldn’t believe my good fortune.

then came the phone call.

the young lady actually had a schedule conflict. of course! i knew the gods must be crazy to let BS and i go out for an evening. and now, i had tickets, expensive tickets, tickets to a show i reallyreallyREALLY wanted to see. (to be fair, i saw a grown-up concert last year when i took BC to her first real concert (i do not count the cheetah girls as a real concert), bruce springsteen. then again, i nearly murdered her when she had to go to the bathroom during rosalita. clearly, i love the girl.) but then, the save: the sitter had a friend who was very responsible, and she was available to sit that night. would that be ok?

i give that girl a ton of props.

the substitute sitter was the older sister of a boy in BC’s class, one of the boys she didn’t actually find repugnant. i took that as a good sign and called her up. and you know when you talk to someone on the phone and you just know in your gut that she’s a good person? i totally got that vibe. so i had a little faith, and i went forward with the new plans.

and you know what?

i had a little dinner with my husband. i had a conversation with him that didn’t revolve completely around one child or another. and we went to beautiful wolf trap in the summer evening and had a glass of wine (well, he had a beer) and giggled. and then, we sat up in a balcony and watched a great show.

and we came home, and the kids were asleep, and the sitter was studying — STUDYING IN THE SUMMER — for her SATs. later, the kids told me how they went and played around the cul-de-sac, painted their toenails (hellboy, too), made snow cones, played Life, and then listened to a book on tape before going to sleep. and oh, how nice the sitter is! can she come back?

i love the times when i can say yes to my kids and know that by saying yes, the result makes me just as happy as it makes them.

maybe moreso.

guilty pleasure monday: three little birds (bob marley and the wailers)

Posted on July 19, 2010July 19, 2010 by wrekehavoc

when the going gets tough in this house, the tough get bob marley.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kIjkW6iyXNo&feature=related

my go-to guy when i start to get a little loco en la cabeza is none other than rastaman himself, bob marley. his music has always hit me in a place that nearly always soothes me into nirvana (or a reasonable facsimile thereof.) and three little birds to me is just like my own personal prayer to the universe. yes, i was delusional enough to believe that i didn’t need meds when i was going into labor with BC; all i needed was my boombox loaded with legend and i was all set. (and yes; i really did try that. got special permission from the hospital to bring in a boombox and everything. only too bad for me, it turned out that i really, really, r e a l l y needed those meds. trust me, even bob himself showing up from the dead in my delivery room with a giant spliff in his hand would not have done anything except give me another man to yell at.) still, my kids are aware (or at least, BC is aware) that when i’m really stressed, i often turn this song on. it’s like a simple mantra on a never-ending loop. and for me, labor notwithstanding, it works.

i’ve been humming the damn song in my head for the past two weeks straight.

the week prior, BC took the train with her uncle middlebro to visit my parents. she wanted some time without me and without jools. sadly, not only was their train car without air conditioning on the 103F day (hey, thanks a lot, AMTRAK!), but my parents’ AC also died once she got there. long story short, i ended up driving with The Boy up to grandma’s house, where we proceeded to live like nomads for three days until PSE&G could come and fix their air. we had fun staying at uncle middlebro’s house and at hotels; but to put it very kindly, it was not the visit anyone had expected.

we then returned to our home, already a work in progress. we are in the last week or two of the renovation process. except for the day when i returned home to find a giant hole drilled through my concrete basement floor (and props to my good friend richard, who came over that day to borrow our laundry machines only to discover — at the same time i did — that people were busy unearthing jimmy hoffa all around the washer and dryer. to his credit, richard didn’t even murder me and still speaks to me, both plusses.), the process has gone relatively smoothly. sure, there are moments when i would have liked a little more lead time to purchase paints and other items, but it has worked out pretty well.

that being said, living in a few prescribed rooms is beginning to get old. the kids are hating camping out in the family room, BC on the couch, jools in a sleeping bag beside her on the floor. (well, in truth, BC and her back are hating it; i suspect jools loves the company every night.) BS is audibly mumbling about moving his office out of our bedroom and back into the tiny room where it belongs and where it has more sustained cable internet access. and me? because the kids are sleeping in the family room, home of the HDTV, i have stuff from netflix that i’ve been waiting to watch for going on four months now.

but we’re working it. BS and jools were to be off to cub scout CubWorld (6 and 7 year old boys running amuck! camping! BB Guns! clearly BS’s idea of paradise) on friday, leaving BC and me free reign in the house until sunday night. SQUEE! you would think, right? only we were left in a house that reeked horribly of floor refinishing fumes, leaving me to turn off the AC and open windows so that people could breathe. and oh, thursday night, there was this little matter of a gas smell in the basement, resulting in a call to washington gas to come and check things out. (glad it wasn’t a real urgent emergency; it took them about two hours to get here, by which time we could have been blown to kingdom come and come again.) the wash gas person kindly dealt with the little leak and explained that some of the smell were those lovely toxic floor fumes hitting the furnace and burning up.

yay?

so it was going to take some time for the gas smell to dissipate. (no way in hell i was turning on the stove this weekend.) meanwhile, i had then closed up the windows and turned on the air. sadly, the thermostat is currently in the basement, as it has been moved during the renovation. because i’m a little thick on such things, i now know that one must turn it down really low so that the rest of the house has a fighting chance to actually cool down. oops. i didn’t know that; so when BC and her pal were going to have a slumber party friday night, the house was pushing 80F and certifiably tropical. they ended up sleeping at her friend’s house (bless her mom!)

this left me alone FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME IN MY ENTIRE LIFE AS A MOM. (that’s nearly 12 years for those of you counting.) did i dance drunk and naked around the house? of course i didn’t. i was still worried about being blown the fuck-all out of here by the remaining gas in the basement. the house was hotter than a witch’s fart. oh, and the fumes were making me nauseous and giving me a stupendous headache. so what did i do? i painted a few colors on the walls with my home depot paint tester cans — because what’s a few more fumes, right? — then settled in to watch a 20-20 show about a murder that made me want to go to bed with a baseball bat beside me. and then, the lightning storm started, reminding me that i had moved everyone’s bike and scooter onto the lawn, getting them wet and making them sitting duck lightning rods. i ran outside in the pouring rain after midnight, took one look at the thundering light, and thought, crap, i’m not bringing that stuff in or else i will end up deep-fried.. move along, lightning, move along…

i laid there in bed for literally hours, unsure as to whether i was going to meet my Maker via heat stroke, asphyxiation, electrocution, murder, or simply explosion.

after four solid hours of sleep, i was annoyed to be awakened by the sounds of hammers on my neighbor’s renovation project. they weren’t in the wrong, of course, though i was surprised that they were doing that sort of work before 7 on a saturday morning. but wasn’t their fault i was up all night. but then again, i was also delighted to still be walking amongst the living, so i found my silver lining.

so, the weekend continued, a sleepy flurry of home depot visits, a walk in the mall with BC (who, along with me, got busted at Claires for trying to take a picture of each other wearing obnoxious sunglasses — apparently, it is verboten to do so), and moving things out of the way of the painters… i was completely strung out and overtired and overstressed. bob marley played feverishly through my brain: my own personal serenity now prayer. and then, as i dropped BC off at her buddy E’s house saturday evening for her second sleepover for the weekend, E’s mom, one of my dear friends, invited me to join them for dinner. her dad put a glass of wine in my hand. i helped my friend bake some chocolate chip cookies for church the next day. in short, i had a lovely evening with her family; it was absolutely what i needed.

in short, i am convinced that bob marley does answer all prayers.

guilty pleasure monday: summer mixtape

Posted on June 28, 2010December 2, 2016 by wrekehavoc

stolen shamelessly…

last week, my blogging buddy foolery (who is one of the funniest chicks around and who i hope to actually meet in real life one day before i die) shared her summer mix. this, of course, started me down my own personal memory lane of music that instantly sends me back to summer. summers for me when i was small meant camp. and summers when i got older meant work. but they also meant music, for better or for worse. anyway, doesn’t mean i particularly lurve these songs, of course. but these songs are some of the ones, for better or for worse, that instantly transport me into a summer mood.

george harrison: give me love (give me peace on earth)

sitting in the camp van on the way through herbertsville to millward farms day camp, where i went for a year or two for reasons i will never know. this song was huge one of those summers… summers when suzanne, the lady who drove my brothers and me, plus my best friend amy, her sister beth, and peter mullen (who kicked out my front tooth in that van)… ah, the van. radio blaring. i remember when suzanne discovered that the van continued to run even when she removed the key from the ignition. good times.

magic: pilot

suddenly, i’m a tween at leonard m. baer day camp, trying to get the wings in my hair to not flop down into my eyes. oh, i hate this song.

billy joel: it’s still rock and roll to me

ahh, the summer of JAP camp with all the girls from lawnGUYland. i wrote about that episode already, featuring another song from joel’s glass houses album. that album saved my ass, and i’ll be eternally grateful for it. at the time, this was my favorite cut. not so much anymore, though it’s still… well, you know the rest.

david bowie: let’s dance

and now, i’m a counselor at leonard m. baer day camp, trying to consume a massive big gulp of coffee with my friend jill in the hopes that i will make it through a day without the little boy campers chasing me down and untying my bikini top. which they tried. a l0t. (see, when our group split, i always ended up with the boys. i liked to play soccer and other sports. lucky me. in my next life, i want to be craftier.)

REM: pretty persuasion

the summer of 1985, i played this on my mixtape in my car constantly. i had a friend whose confusion about life confused the hell out of me; and while i didn’t realize it at the time, i think my subconscious was working overtime.

smithereens: blood and roses

i’m working at the rutgers stupid center with my new friend bluestone. music is piped in to our office. i read that you can win the soundtrack to the film dangerously close from the targum if you answer some questions. bored, i do and i win it. blood and roses is the crowning achievement of the soundtrack; i am instantly a smithereens fan from that moment on.

toad the wet sprocket: all i want

and this would be the song from the summer i was out in california, making a fool of myself during the taping of jeopardy! this song gives me shpilkes. nuff said.

the presidents of the united states of america: peaches

before we had kids, BS and i would just get in the car and end up places. one weekend, we ended up tubing in harper’s ferry. afterwards, we were hungry; of course, there were millions of peaches. not for free, though.

beach boys: little deuce coupe

yeah, yeah; sure, sure. can’t have a summer mix without the beach boys, right? well, i don’t have them for the reason you might think. when i was pregnant with BC, she didn’t move a ton. summer came, and i was resting one hot day, watching behind the music: the beach boys. suddenly, girlfriend started to kick the crap out of my innards whenever a beach boys song came on. BS thought this hilarious, so much so that he bought a best of CD to play to see whether his baby girl would continue her little smackdown inside my belly. she did. yay!

girlfriend still loves the beach boys and still retains a nickname from the time she was small: little doot doot.

you don’t know what i got.

buffalo springfield: sit down, i think i love you

it’s summer, and i’m driving little baby jools to daycare; afterwards, i’ll drive BC to day camp. and the song comes on, and my babies smile sweetly and sing along: sit down, i think i love you. anyway, i’d like to try. and jools plays the fuzzy electric guitar solo air guitar, followed by the BC on the sweeter, meandering solo. it leaves me with a giant smile every time i think of it.

lenny kravitz: fly away

…and then, our hero climbed, barefoot, into her red subaru forester in the outer banks. she was only going to the supermarket, but the kids were with the husband, and she felt a sort of freedom she hadn’t felt in years.

so there’s a few. what’s on your summer mixtape? lord knows mine could use some reprogramming…

blue sky

Posted on May 30, 2010May 29, 2013 by wrekehavoc

happy birthday, little man.

one day, not too long ago, you and i were driving in a car somewhere, windows open, music blaring. i miss days like that; we used to have our tuesdays, where you and i would try to cram a little fun into the one day we shared alone. now, of course, you’re a big first grader — almost a second grader — and so our times alone are a little harder to come by.

and when they do, often we find ourselves in car, bound for who-knows-where. sometimes a fun destination, sometimes an appointment. but we sing and we talk and we’re quiet and we’re together, you and me, my baby boy. i treasure your sister for many things; i treasure you for many others. sometimes, it’s hard to say what’s different about you and your sister. you are both my children, but two more different people there could not be. and i’m grateful for that, as it makes me appreciate the different gifts that you both are. i’ve never been able to articulate those differences and those appreciations well, but i know them, i feel them, i breathe them in every day.

so we were driving, you and me, and the allman brothers started to sing in their meandering, drawl-ly southern way. and little you piped up:

mama, i’m your blue sky. BC’s your sunny day.

and in one second, you put to words something i never could. your sister is a sunny day, filled with light and love, hopeful that each hour will get even better than the last. clouds be damned.

and you are my blue sky… sometimes, a midnight, turbulent sapphire, with storm clouds rolling in ominously. sometimes, a hazy azure, signaling a leisurely languid loll. and then again, i know i will also then see the bright cerulean of your smiling sweetness around the bend, too.

mama loves you, jools. no matter what sort of day, you will always be my blue sky.

guilty pleasure monday: misty mountain hop (led zeppelin)

Posted on May 24, 2010June 19, 2014 by wrekehavoc

Why don’t you take a good look at yourself and describe what you see
And baby, baby, baby, do you like it?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yHselocZja8

today’s guilty pleasure monday brought to you by the letter C for camping.

those of you who know me in real life know i love nature. oh yes, i really, truly do… love to hike in it, love to play in it, love to search in it. and then, at the end of the day, i like returning back to my home or a lodge or a resort of some sort, nicely appointed with electricity, bathrooms within the building, and nature coexisting outside the confines of my indoor world. i like indoor plumbing, i like restaurants, and i loveloveLOVE showers. (i’m high maintenance like that.)

so it came as a huge surprise to everyone when i agreed to join our girl scout troop as we embarked on a cabin camping trip to misty mount in the beautiful catoctins. after all, the one and only stipulation i had made when i agreed to help my dear friend M as she led our troop was no camping. i’ll do lots of things with the troop if asked; i’m generally not a shrinking violet. but please dear Dog, no overnights in the great outdoors. at least, not for me.

in short, i am not a happy camper.

i know this, not from experience but from knowing what camping entails. if i don’t like when ants come into my home, i know i won’t enjoy whatever more interesting wildlife decides to say howdy-do while i’m trying to get some shuteye. i like climate control. i like having a bathroom nearby, one i don’t need to put clothes on in order to pee in the middle of the night, should, ehhem, nature call me. yet somehow, i threw the whole to thine own self be true biz to the wind. and i brought jools and BS up into it for good measure because why shouldn’t we all have fun together! after all, it’s not roughing it. it’s cabin camping! (which my more experienced friends said is a cakewalk in comparison to tent camping.) there’s a building with bathroooms and showers, just a short walk from our cabin. and one my friends graciously organized the whole she-bang, and lots of other families were bringing food and knew what to do.

so thanks to target, we had sleeping bags, we had mess kits, and we had liftoff.

BS was being a super-good sport when he went along with us; i offered to leave him home, but i think the idea of me being lost up in the maryland mountains with the kids probably compelled him to refuse my offer. he, like queen victoria, was not amused, but he came along anyway, bless his pointed little head. we arrived in the sunshine, somewhere before 1pm. the folks who had slept over friday night left us a note; they were hiking, but lunch foodstuffs were available and we should help ourselves. very very kind of them! another mom, her daughter, and another scout were there, so the mom took the kids, including BC and jools, on a mini hike while i waited for BS to walk back from the parking lot, where he had to leave our car. when he returned, he and i decided to hike a little hike ourselves.

now the thing about hiking here is that there actually are no paths. you really are walking through woods, over streams, and into mushy things that may end up on your pants when you sink in them (not that i would know about that personally, though my jeans are currently swirling in round two of my mini-wash-a-thon at the moment in the hopes that nature will leave my levis alone.) and when you’re a person who has fractured, then sprained one of her ankles, you tend to remember that perhaps unsure ground is not the place you ought to be walking until after you’ve had the surgery to fix said ankle and then have had a few months of physical therapy. but of course, this all had been realized as BS and i were deep in the woods.

gee, i hope we can actually find our way back, i mused aloud, fiddling in my pockets in search of crumbs i could start throwing onto the ground. just in case.

fortunately, we soon heard the happy chatter of our kids with the other girls and mom, and we knew we were on the right track. and if i only walked ever so carefully, i would make it back up the hill to our campsite without requiring a med-evac transport. which i did. yay me! well, yay, BS, who held his hand out, gentlemanly, at certain pivotal moments. (like the one, for instance, where i didn’t want to jump down this one giant rock onto the lower rocks at the stream. but i digress.) how cool is this camping business, i thought. it’s sunny, it’s fun, and food is involved!

the others returned, and we proceeded to have a fun afternoon. kids played, grownups ate and chatted, and other than BC getting stung twice by a wasp or yellowjacket on her knuckle (her pal H was stung just before she was) and having her middle finger look like it was blown up and ready to fly in the macy’s thanksgiving day parade, it was a lovely time. i brought benadryl, and since the girl had never been stung by anything in her life besides a mosquito and some sharp criticism, i gave some to her, hoping she wouldn’t have a reaction. and hooray hooray, other than a big old blownup finger, she seemed to keep breathing.

then, the deluge.

grownups made some awesome food in spite of the buckets of rain that came down. i am so very, very thankful to the others who brought so much delicious food and who knew how to prepare it out in a camp situation. (i saw my first camp stove, and in short, i was awestruck.) i had amazing veggie chili made fresh, i made a smore for the first time in a campfire (yes, i make them in my microwave, don’t judge), and the yummy spinach artichoke dip that my pal and co-leader M brought from whole paycheck foods was absolutely delicious! knowing that jools was not a veggie chili eater, BS cleverly brought along a pack or two of hotdogs, which he and the boy roasted beside some baking dump cake (which i totally have to try at home!) the park rangers do, in fact, check on you to make sure you haven’t brought any grownup beverages (which is truly unfortunate.) while it rained, the boy continued to poke at the fire, which probably ensured that it didn’t go out. in fact, i think some of the boy’s and BS’s happiest moments involved poking at fire. which, in hindsight, should probably frighten me a little, though i prefer to think that perhaps they are both frustrated firemen.

yes. that must be it.

anyway, the light rain became heavy rain. we three retired to our cabin; BC slept in a bigger lodgey-cabin with my friend, the organizer, her family, and several other girls. (bless you, my friend.) the minute i sat on my bed, it sagged 3/4 of the way to the floor. a great sign in sleepland, to be sure. i crawled into my new sleeping bag. have sleeping bags gotten smaller, or have i gotten bigger? i remember fitting myself and a friend once in a bag, and now, i barely fit myself comfortably. i tried to stay on my side in an effort to preserve my back. and i tried desperately not to move. every move made a noise, and every noise, i feared, would wake up BS. the light shone in through my window, and i watched it blurry and hazy-eyed (my glasses were resting on a makeshift table of board games we had brought up.) jools, on the other hand, slept like a rock; his sleeping bag was practically off him, and he was just the best. sleeper. ever. would that i had been him.

when i saw BS stir, i knew the morning must have come. i didn’t have a watch (and couldn’t have read it even had i wanted to without my glasses on), but he did. when i don’t sleep, i just get boohooey. but when BS doesn’t sleep? well, let’s just say he’s not his usually, happy-go-lucky self. and waking up meant having to put clothes on to get to the bathroom (which, i will say, was very nice to have, as opposed to say a latrine. but still not psyched to have to put on clothes to get there.) i let him hike to his bathroom in the rain first, and i somehow ended up waking up the boy. it was 6:00somethingish in the morning. after he returned and i trudged to the ladies room, we did what any normal family would do: we broke open our two packs of donuts and started to inhale them. powdered donuts! jools exclaimed, mouth stuffed to the brim. mpfmpfmpfmpfmppfffffhhhhhh! yep. they’re definitely an important part of his training table. then, as others were still asleep, we played a game of yahtzee. the boy actually rolled a yahtzee and beat us both. badly. badly enough as in he wants to actually save the score sheet badly.

i’m sure my grandchildren will one day hear the tale of just how bad grandma is at yahtzee.

we finished, and people were beginning to stir. but watching hellboy struggle putting on his raincoat and whining because the sleeves were saturated was the straw that broke the camping camel’s back.

we’re done, BS simply said.

i am so grateful to all the families who did all the work while i did precious little, and i do mean precious little. they organized things, they fed us, they were so amazingly wonderful and generous to us. and i’m hoping they know that our experience is not any reflection on all that they did at misty mount. if my house wasn’t a shambles, i would totally want to invite them all over for a thank you festivity.

so, in their honor, some zeppelin. cos nothing says thank you like robert plant.

little miss can’t be wrong

Posted on May 20, 2010May 20, 2010 by wrekehavoc

you know the type.

so i’ve just returned from my monthly IV of gammaglobulin goodness, a ritual i endure every four weeks for the rest of my life. it’s not so bad — the ladies who take care of me are amazingly wonderful and endure ME relatively well, considering i have to go through seven bottles over the course of about 5 or 6 hours (on a good day) with veins like keith richards’. today, i blew first IV connection in my right arm thanks to having thick blood that apparently clotted, leaving the IVIG nowhere to go but backwards. poke number two in the left arm worked for a short while until something ouchy and stingy happened. luckily, by this time, i had only one bottle left, so the lady i annoy the most (and who i love to pieces) put in a butterfly on another site in my right arm and i did not move my arm for about 30 minutes. no biggie.

in fact, i was able to run to the nearby wegman’s, which was cool because jools had run out of his favorite Phillies Graham Slam ice cream, and wegmans is the only place around here that sells it. so, since i was finished at two, i skedaddled over to the wegman’s before starting the 40 minute+ drive home. since it was 85 degrees out, i decided to park in the “underground” lot. i zipped over to take the stairs, but as the elevator doors opened right up in front of me, i figured what the hell — i’ll climb in since it’s going up anyway.

as the doors were about nearly closed, i heard a voice shriek: hold that elevator! my pavlovian response, of course, was to stick my hand on the door and get the sensors to realize the doors shouldn’t shut. (why didn’t i press a button, you wonder? well, you need a PhD to read the actual buttons on that particular elevator; for a machine that literally only goes between two floors, it’s a bit unreal.) in walks a tall, poodley-haired suburban blonde lady and her equally tall, late teen/early 20s daughter. thanks, she said. i smiled politely, nodded at her, and did what all self-respecting people do on an elevator; i moved to the far corner. i hurt my foot this morning she announced, perhaps to the daughter, who didn’t say anything. yes, i hurt my foot this morning, she repeated louder, clearly looking to justify why she had made a person stop an elevator that was nearly closed so that she could ride. i looked at her, wondering what exactly she wanted me to do — perhaps break out my medical kit?

then, she looked at my two bandaged arms. in a voice usually reserved for naughty children who have just pushed someone else’s child down off a cliff — or maybe her bichon frise just made a little pooh on your lawn, she exclaimed, “Uh oh! Uh oh!”

realizing that she had not, in fact, turned into a teletubby, i knew i was the reason for the uh ohs. for that split second, i wanted to say well, i was shooting up my smack today, but i missed. shit could happen to anyone, right?

but i didn’t. somehow, though, i knew she was demanding an explanation for bandaged arms. and as the nice girl i forever am, i had to give one. i had some IVs in my arms today.

Uh oh!

am i riding this elevator with rainman’s mother?

the IVs save my life.

that gave her an inscrutable look. the doors then opened, and i made a beeline for the frozen food section.