FAMILY – Page 24 – Wrekehavoc.com

Category: FAMILY

sad day

Posted on March 4, 2008 by wrekehavoc

it could always be waaay worse, i know; but today is just sort of a sad day while we await some sort of monsoon here in the People’s Republic. i usually hang with my little hellboy on tuesdays, but due to some pediatric scheduling joys, i need to take BC to the doctor’s today for her well-child checkup. her birthday is in december; but between the wait, the apparent need to schedule the checkup after the previous year’s checkup; and some sloth on my part; she’s not getting her checkup until today.

(i suspect we’ll loop back to december appointments by the time she is 18. thank you, blue cross.)

taking them both to the doctor’s simultaneously is a disaster. last week, we did it when jools had a doctor’s appointment right after BC was done with school for the day. another child in his class had impetigo, and it started around her mouth. the teachers, wanting to prevent a wild outbreak (today, impetigo. tomorrow, SARS.), sent him home as a precaution, as the dude has dry cracked lips. guess what? the pediatrician agreed with my assessment. as i had a doctor’s appt that day (which resulted in my whisking myself downtown to his school, then whisking back to mclean (motto: mclean; maclean; mcClean. who the hell knows how to spell our name?)), the dude ended up joining me at my doctor’s office. my doctor took one look at jools and said: this child has dry, cracked lips.

but at the pediatrician’s office, the mecca from which we receive all notes permitting our school entrance (and which i actually like, by the way), we waited for a little over an hour before we saw the doctor. in that time, my kids:

pulled the exam table paper out a little too much (and nearly pushed each other off the table, which, i suppose isn’t a bad thing. i mean, hell, we’re in a doctor’s office — what better place to get a concussion!);

tried to take the antimicrobial hand crap and practically bathe in it;

played 52 pick-up with the books and magazines beneath the exam table;

rolled each other around in the doctor’s chair like monstertrucks;

and generally annoyed the living shit out of me.

okay, okay. they’re just typical kids. and i was a typical mom with a typical i just drove through rush hour traffic for a 5:00 appointment, and now i get to drive through rush hour traffic at 6 to get home headache. but i just couldn’t bear a repeat today.

so the dude abides his time at preschool today. he’s probably cursing me and being traumatized to the extent that he will need therapy later because his mom didn’t apparently love him enough to keep him home today.

so of course, i feel guilt. i miss that little guy. just add it to the list of reasons why i suck as a mom.

and, to top it all off, sunday is my birthday. and i’ll even lose an hour of my fucking birthday, thanks to daylight savings. it’s all a conspiracy, i tell you.

i want my damn hour back, thank you very much.

guilty pleasure monday: things can only get better (HoJo)

Posted on March 3, 2008 by wrekehavoc

i need to be an equal opportunity decade offender, but somehow, the 1980s gave me a lot of fodder that makes it into this category. and howard jones, he of the fluffy cockatiel hair (which i ended up with circa 1986) (there are pictures, i’m mortified to state), fits the bill with things can only get better.

this is a great song when you’re on the elliptical, i must tell you — crank the resistance up to 12 and try to dance around. but back in the day, when my hair was well on its way to its biggest and scariest incarnation, i loved this song. why? well, in 1985/6, i felt like things were in a bit of a shambles. i was transferring back home to rutgers (motto: no one wants to call it new jersey university) because i missed the seasons and because i felt like a part of me was losing my mind living in a place where i really, really didn’t belong. (meaning miami. not the people i went to school with. i am still close with several people from UM, some of whom actually live in and around miami to this day.) i don’t regret my time in miami for a second — it was a world i don’t think i would have otherwise experienced, and i learned a lot while there about people, places, and things that wash up on the beach at night that smell funny.

in short, i traded a beach for a blizzard.

i also was knee-deep in a relationship with a person i would call hamlet. he’s really a good person; he just didn’t know what he wanted at the time, rendering me a bit of a wreck. i was hopeful i could figure out whether things would work from a closer distance, though that wasn’t the driving force of returning to NJ. i just missed the place; and the english department at RU was (and still is) top-notch.

so, i packed my teeny canary yellow toyota tercel (with black pleather interior and no A/C in miami — talk about a great car to have in the heat!) and shifted my way up to the auto train with my mom in tow. after my car was completely saturated with dead love bugs on the FL Turnpike, we boarded the auto train (the two youngest people on board, and she was a little older than 40 ;-), and i planned to start over again in the garden spot of new brunswick, nj.

yep. things. can. only. get. better.

only no one told me they’d get worse before they got better. i felt really alienated my first semester, though i thrived academically and was accepted into the honors english program. and hamlet? well, that didn’t work out, and i was a bit of a human disaster for a few months.

but things DID get better after that. a LOT better.

so every time i listen to howard jones, i always remember that things can always get better. you just have to wait some times. and other times, you have to hit a lower bottom before things are on the up-and-up. and other times…

well. you get the picture.

she blinded me with science

Posted on February 28, 2008 by wrekehavoc

BC has a big science test today. we’ve been reading about the sun, the moon, the tides, matter, molecules, and atoms. she even drew me the little H2O drawing that we did in beginning chemistry. in 10th grade.

BC is in third grade.

i love the way the teacher writes out a plan of attack for studying. each day, we have been studying from a sheet; and each day, we add a little more, then a little more, then a little more. i hope this sort of thing rubs off on madam, as she clearly doesn’t seem to be a person who wants to study because, to quote her, i know this stuff already, mama.

it’s nice to be doogie howser, but you still need to study, darling.

girlfriend seems to be heavily interested in science these days. i’m secretly glad of this, as i somehow never got jazzed much about it. (in fact, i must say that i have probably learned as much about earth and rotation and revolution in this little study exercise as she has.) her TV faves include untold stories of the ER, diagnosis X, and of course my personal fave, trauma: life in the ER — with occasional interruptions from the shows about people having babies, which she likes, too.

while i am secretly glad that it moves her away from some of the crappy cartoons she is prone to watching, i often wonder whether i should be more concerned. girlfriend doesn’t care about watching actual bloody surgeries. and she gets irritated when i start to weep, especially when we watched these two egyptian twins get detached from each other’s brains.

yesterday, we watched a show where a western NJ boy (yes, of course, all magical things happen in NJ) got med-evac’d to UMDNJ in scenic newark because he sawed off two fingers in shop class (moral: mamas don’t let your babies grow up and take shop class.) i couldn’t watch as the kid showed his hands. girlfriend watched with keen interest.

mama, she always reminds me, if you can’t handle it, you should really leave the room. later, she asked me what the words in front of the show meant.

oh, i replied, you mean “viewer discretion is advised”?

yep.

uh, viewer discretion advised means i should use MY discretion over YOUR viewing time, sister.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2IlHgbOWj4o

big time

Posted on February 20, 2008 by wrekehavoc

well, maybe not the big time, but a first for me. i actually stood up in front of real people, paid-ticket people, people i don’t even know (mostly), and dredged up bits from my ancient, sadly melodramatic journals for the DC mortified show. (proof here, thanks to master wine drinker/pourer kellyo.)

here’s a thrilling secret: i’m terrified at standing in front of people and talking. (don’t tell anyone, ok? 😉

seriously though, as i explained to BS as we drove into DC last night, i like to do things that scare me so that i won’t be scared of them. (neurosis ain’t the boss of me!) i hope my kids are far more fearless than i have been in my life. i intend to continue conquering each and every thing that terrifies me (okay, most things. i think shooting up dope and skydiving are probably not in my future. mom and dad, you can relax now.)

BS, being a most excellent driver, found street parking; and off we hoofed to HR-57. he was patting me all along, telling me i was going to do fine. i think after 20 years, he has figured out that when i get quiet, r e a l l y r e a l l y quiet, that i am nervous. and when i start singing along to the Grateful Dead on the radio, then i am all-out terrified. (oh, don’t jump on me, people. i like the Dead just as much as the next over-X-year old. i just don’t like singing along with them. except for this one and this one.)

(Public Service Announcement: rick. if you’re still out there. please explain to me who the doodah man is.)

anywho, there i was, singing along with truckin’, a song i don’t even like. and there was BS, trying to be the most supportive husband on earth. and suddenly, as i approach the door of HR-57, i hear a voice yell: “SHERRRRRR!” kelly arrived out of nowhere and told me that she, molly, and a friend of her’s from work were next door, tucking into some sake and dinner. i was so touched that they came out, sans tickets, and were going to try and get on the waitlist. (you dudes have no idea how much that meant to me.)

i was warmly welcomed by my producer andi, who should be knighted for actually making a storyline emerge from my written blather. BS bought me a red stripe, and the uber-producer, the divine ms. sarah disgrace, gave me my very own trapper keeper. so i was feeling pretty good about life. and then, my two pals (and a new one) were able to join us up front.

yay!

loved the two people who read before me. loved the people who read after me. and i think i did ok. i kept thinking, jeez, my voice gets squeaky when i’m trying to pretend i’m a teenager. what gives? it’s not like i was a teenaged b-o-y. ah well. but i talked about how i was so busy being superior to everyone else because i was superior to everyone else in my high school. (that’s a joke there for anyone who shows up here from TRN. a j-o-k-e. i certainly wasn’t superior to people like maria ressa, a really sweet, talented, and nice chick who probably doesn’t remember me from adam… okay. so, i might not have been superior to plenty of folks, k? nobody better throw punch at me or pull a carrie on me if i make it to the 25th reunion this summer.)

the martyr of toms river north survived, i tell ya.

after the show, a guy came up to me and said, “did you go to north? you mentioned mr. leonard — i went to TRN, too!” as it turns out, he’s about 10 years younger than i am, but we know similar people and went to the same day camp. in fact, i may have been his counselor. the world is strange and wonderful.

so much fun! so much wine! so much support! i hope i get to do it again if i didn’t eff up too much.

many thanks to the producers, especially andi and sarah grace, queen of cupcakes. many thanks to kelly, molly, and my new BFF elizabeth. humungous thanks to michelle (and you know who you are, madam) who helped me find an awesome friend of hers to watch BC and jools. thanks to my family for giving me years of fodder — and love.

and major thanks to BS. the proverbial wind beneath my wings.

(c’mon. we’re celebrating bad writing here. i had to go with it 😉

big me

Posted on February 19, 2008 by wrekehavoc

today, i am going to be mortified. i’ve got a piece prepared about me as a high school egomaniac, and i’m going to share it with a sold-out bunch of people i probably have never met (and who probably will never want to meet me after this.)

in short, i am afraid.

but i’m sure it will work out. mortified, you see, is a fun program where people who have actually held on to their terrible, awful, nasty writings from pre-age-21 share them in a humorous setting. humorous for some; mortifying for the reader, i suspect. i’m sure i will upset someone out there (family?) after reading my piece. but this was me, snarky, moody teen girl writing. not me, snarky, moody grownup.

there is a difference. i think.

and ok, on the curb: you wanted a picture of me from my childhood. this is high school me. see if you can figure out precisely what is so dorky about this picture… it may not be quite easy to see, like the gypsy moth treatment on the tree.

reason to believe

Posted on February 15, 2008 by wrekehavoc

i voted on tuesday, of course. and i never revealed how i voted.

but even after the primary, i have this uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. bill cusack sums it up well in the huffington post (led by arianna huffington, formerly an annoying social climber who is now the darling of left-thinkers everywhere.) not to brag, but i should be able to figure things out, things like where politicians stand on a few issues. i have a masters degree in public policy/political science, which entitles me to be a ~~cynical~~ savvy consumer of political information. and i read, people. yes, i did. and do.

and i can understand why i don’t care for john mccain. and i know enough about hillary clinton’s record to decide whether she earned my vote. (incidentally, i am incredibly annoyed that so very many commentators call her hillary and not clinton. it’s not like they think bill is running again so the confusion factor should not be an issue (and anyone THAT stupid should go back in their time machines and reset them for 2008 — or maybe 1208, for all i care), and no one simply talks about john or barack. it’s effing sexist and rude.)

but, as i asked BS the other night as we watched the tuesday returns, what exactly does obama stand for?

looking at all the signs surrounding obama, BS read aloud, obama stands for hope.

now, my snarky BS aside, i am really struggling here. i want to believe. i think millions of americans want to believe. but believe what? that someone will wave a magic wand and poof! years of our flawed (understatement of the year) foreign policy disappear? that our disastrous economic policies will be righted? improvements in health care policy? environmental policy? poverty?

i’m going to read the blueprint again.

but i have to wonder aloud. plenty of ~~stupid americans~~ conservative americans got caught up in the cult of personality when ronald reagan won two elections in the 1980s. he was charismatic, he blew winds of change (among other things), and people wanted to believe that the horrors and embarrassments of the 70s would be swept away (under a rug), leaving only the fresh scent of ~~a carolina pine forest~~ the free market system and superior american defensive strength. people on the left, like me, derided his cult of personality: how could americans be so incredibly gullible to be won over by this amazing orator who didn’t know squat about how washington works?

and now i think i know.

like i said: i am not necessarily knocking obama, but i won’t feel better until i have a better idea of what he’s planning to do. it’s not enough to say that the person was against the war from the start, for example. (i’ve heard plenty of people go off on clinton, for example, because she voted for the war, just like a lot of people who would normally not do something like that except under strange circumstances. which these probably were.) what the hell will he DO when he’s in office about the war? just pull us out and leave the iraqi people to fend for themselves in their shambles of a nation? or has he thought through precisely what he thinks we should do in a gradual way that helps to preserve lives — american and iraqi?

i have plenty of hope, i think. i am not sleeping. i do want to believe. but i need a lot more than that.

i need details.

girlfriend

Posted on February 14, 2008 by wrekehavoc

dearest BS,

i’m probably going to be hooked up to an IV while you’re reading this, doing my best to stay awake during my 5-6 hour monthly marathon of IVIG goodness for my CVID. not exactly a romantic way to spend the bulk of valentine’s day, but on the other hand, it’s my best present i can give to you: more time with me. see, i know i’m just the perfect wife.

my cooking skills are impeccable.

my plumbing and laundering skills are astonishing.

and what’s more, i’m just the best. mother. ever.

how did you ever get so damn lucky? now if only i could actually purchase, er, i mean, if only santa was a mind-reader and could get you the presents you wanted, we’d be all set. hey — give santa a break and a clue next year, k?

in the meantime, i’m doing my best to be healthy so that i can be the bane of your existence for as long as i can be.

please do the same.

love,

your girlfriend

p.s. the comic book guy lets the girl drive the car to safety. just pointing it out. he’s in the car; she’s driving. what an idea!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fgo6dFWY6sE&rel=1

are you ready for the summer

Posted on February 13, 2008 by wrekehavoc

here in the people’s republic, planning for summer camp starts as early as january. it’s absolute mayhem if you’re a working parent because you need to get your kid situated somewhere with before and after care. camps make it difficult, too, because the public school programs and the parks and rec programs and the programs at private schools and the programs at the YMCA and so on all have different signup dates.

some of them even have lotteries for the signup. you can end up signing up for three different camps on the same week only because you’re afraid you won’t get into your favorite camp with the latest date so you need to be covered just in case. it’s insane. and some camps are filled up by mid-january; no lie. i’m lucky i am working out of my home these days; the worst thing that will happen is that BC will spend a lot of quality time with me. not a problem in my book, though girlfriend might disagree at times 😉

anyway, it’s a far cry from my idyllic youth, when i attended one day camp for the entire summer. nothing glamorous; we played outside, learned to swim, did arts and crafts, and occasionally ran through the graveyard where my grandma rose was buried. (we played capture the flag in the woods, which are now covered by mcmansions; but i always managed to run through the graveyard and wave to my gram. i was a weird child, even then.) i was saddened to ride past my camp recently, only to see that it is completely overgrown, including the pool where i learned to swim and the area up to the garden state parkway (where my brother, a counselor, would sometimes threaten this one annoying boy (who shall remain nameless, though i’ve learned he continues to be annoying as a grown man) that he would throw him onto the road so he could play parkway tag (rules: if a car hits you, you’re it!) if he didn’t straighten up. good. times.

i ended up working there as a counselor once i was old enough. it was all great fun except since i was a tomboy of sorts, i always ended up taking the boys. it was great — we played soccer, softball, everything — lots of fun until they discovered the tie on my bikini top and chased me all around to try and untie it. did i mention these were good times?

anyway, i wish i could go back to camp. however, times and my abilities have changed. i have made up some new camps i would like to attend.

week 1: Wine Tasting Camp. travel around the countryside while your designated bus driver takes you to 4 wineries per day. sleep it off in charming b&bs.

weeks 2+3: Rock Band Camp. start that garage band you always wanted to be in but were too busy studying and being a good and obedient child. since CBGBs isn’t an option, pick a club of your choice and gig there.

week 4: Indy Brewery Camp. see week 1. substitute independent brewers.

week 5: Waterpark Camp. every day, visit a different waterpark, which has been reserved for campers over 30.

week 6: Spa Camp. visit some ritzy spa for a week. enjoy proper food, exercise, and pampering treatments. wave at oprah, who is leading the camp and who showers you with her favorite things of the week.

weeks 7+8: Follow Your Band Camp. pick a band you like, and follow it to different cities for two weeks, discovering the joys of various cities in between shows.

week 9: Go to California and Watch Films with the Actors Week. make it john cusack, johnny depp (not the captain hook crap, though), and robert downey, jr. week and that will suffice.

week 10: Vacation. a redundant concept, but i’m not as young as i used to be, you know. gotta rejuvenate before school starts.

are you with me?

guilty pleasure monday: the wall (kansas)

Posted on February 11, 2008 by wrekehavoc

the grammys (tagline: we only reward artists after they’re dead, irrelevant, or past their best work) have inspired me. i’m thinking it is time for a theme, at least until i get bored with the idea 😉

so welcome to the inaugural post of guilty pleasure monday, where i’ll talk about a song i love, a song i listen to at times when i think no one is around, a song i might sing at the top of my lungs except for the fact that BS will look at me with that face that says you know, i thought you were cool once, but you’re just one giant sap.

so today’s gem: the wall by that prog rock band kansas. you know, the ones who gave us point of know return and carry on wayward son? oh, and the one my mother refers to as the all-time, #1 depressing song, dust in the wind?

and yes, i did sing this at the top of my lungs at one time in my life. i absolutely identified with the idea that there was a wall that i had to overcome; a wall of being who i wanted to be and not who everyone else thought i should be. yes, the stuff that 19 year olds everywhere feel; only instead of going punk like every other self-respecting person of my era, i dug deeper into prog rock. (i don’t think punk ever made it to miami.)

anyway, back to the top-of-my-lungs-singing bit. fortunately, when i was doing it, i was enclosed in a soundproof booth at the university of miami (motto: the harvard of the south), witnessed only by my best mate murph, a person who still admits publicly that she’s my friend in spite of the fact that i’m a dork and made her listen to me sing and play piano back in the day. so, back in that noisy day, i attended UM for two years. you should know that while it has earned its rep as suntan u, UM truly has an amazing music school, which boasts a zillion great musicians — pat metheny, for one. and it reserved its pi-anos, housed in little glass soundproof closets, for said music school kids.

of which i was not.

i did find a very nice guy in the music school, a man who i have since googled and have found that he plays professionally in a jazz duo with his significant other. and this adorable man, who at age 20 looked like an older version of christopher robin, let me borrow his university photo ID every time i wanted to play. it’s a credit to the people at the front desk that never did they ponder why i didn’t have short, light brown hair, or wasn’t a boy, for that matter. they just let me go.

and one of the first things i would sing and play at the VERY TIPPY TOP OF MY LUNGS was the wall. not the we don’t need no education wall. the dark and silent barrier between all i am and all i ever hope to be wall.

i still love this song, even though i probably have since written graffiti, removed chunks, and finally leaped over that wall. metaphorically speaking, of course. all things that would probably disturb the song’s author, who has since become a born-again christian. but i digress.

(did i mention that murph is still my friend some 25 years later? in spite of my dorkiness?)

strange brew

Posted on February 8, 2008 by wrekehavoc

my musically-inclined friend philfree tagged me with a meme: six random habits or quirks about me. i tend to be quirky by definition, so its just sooooo hard to pick six without someone attempting to have me commited. but i’ll try.

1) i am right handed. i bat lefty. this is due to some tomfoolery, courtesy of my two older brothers. (thanks a lot, guys.)
2) i like to wear black. a lot. BC always asks me to break out of my fashion rut. but i say, hey, it’s easy to match when all you wear is black. it’s slimming, it’s fashionable in that bored new yorker sort of way. and it’s what i do. when you see me wearing pink and white, it’s probably best to head for the hills. i’m having a breakdown.
3) i watched I Love the 80s while in labor with jools. it just seemed like the thing to do at the time. i made it all the way up to the 1987 episode before the dude decided to appear. i still have yet to watch 1988 and 1989. not that those years mattered much.

4) during 8th grade, i served as the disk jockey for the disco club at school. yes, kids, while i quietly seethed because i would have preferred listening to the police (a band none of my friends had heard of in 1979), i spun classics like we are family, le freak and of course, everything from saturday night fever that i could hardly stomach. (in other words, more bee gees than human beings ought to be allowed to experience in one year.) yep. all that while having to watch my intermediate school french teacher waddle around on calves the size of wisconsin, teaching kids how to do the hustle. yep. good. times.

5) i love chocolate and consider it an important part of my training table. i love dark chocolate best, especially the 85% cocoa or the type with cacao nibs. it may be too bitter for other people, but i eat it. i like to pretend i am eating it for the flavenoids. chocolate = health food! (a girl can dream.)

6) sometimes, when i am driving by the perfectly-coiffed, perfectly-perfect moms at my daughter’s school, i will dig up some ramones or black flag or dead kennedys, roll down the window, and blast it.

i. am. that. juvenile.

Tagging:

mamma mia

pillowbook

and

everyoneisdoinit