Enough already.
I've received more emails from the Obama haters than I want to talk about. People are already doggin' him out and the man isn't even in office. Even one of my favourite gossip columnists took an email from someone who asked why Obama hasn't done more to help the American people since he was elected. The gossip columnist said simply we should maybe wait until he actually took office before we started judging him.
A lot of the same people who are sending me anti Obama email are the same people who kept saying that there were WMDs to be found in Iraq. Yeah, listen, I found a pretty big WMD last week in my son's training diapers and no one from the Bush administration came to visit us. It's amazing that the Barack Obama hadn't even been in DC yet to settle his girls down to school and people were ready to say he was going to fail because this whole financial failure of the automotive industry and the financial sector and everything else wouldn't be salvagable easily. And that for some reason, we who believe that Obama might be able to change the way things are now are naive and believe this will happen in six weeks.
Sure, the believers are naive. We want to believe in a president that doesn't seem to have ties to big oil. Who didn't weasel out of military service when he was young but was willing to start a war to finish what his Daddy started way back when and put our youngsters on the line for a war about...what was it again? Who doesn't have a VP who threw contracts at his former company to rebuild two countries but at a ridiculous expense. By the way, Afghanistan is all perfect right? We got them all settled and running well with jobs, education for all and land that they can grow their own food on, right? Oh yeah. No.
Barack Obama has a huge mountain he's facing. When he started campaigning two years ago, he was facing the fact that we were in an endless loop of the war in Iraq. "Mission not accomplished." Both Afghanistan and Iraq are countries in turmoil. They cannot get on their feet for various reasons whether it's insurgents who are fighting the infidels who want to destroy Islam or because you have a bunch of tribes or factions of Islam who think the other guy is out to destroy them. There is limited or no infrustructure in either country. And what we send in the form of Halliburton is not helping. It's like asking Paris Hilton to build a grid for a country's energy. You know you are asking an awful lot for a someone who wants more money than they deserve.
No, naysayers, we do NOT expect Barack Obama to make this boo boo all better in a month. Or two. As he was elected, the financial world in the US was melting faster than a snowman in Vegas in July. It went from being a five pound bag of shit to a 25 pound bag of shit in a few short weeks. The realization of what he is facing is obvious because you can see his hair is already getting the requisite Presidential Stress Grey. I think that the vast majority of us knew before Obama took the stage back in November to say that this would take not one but two terms to possibly get us back on our feet again that was the case.
And for those of ou who are snidely saying that 'someone' owns Obama, let me just say this: someone owns all of us. Or something. For the chain smoking racist who is sure that a black man cannot rule because he is owned by someone, I want to tell him that he is owned by the tobacco company because he cannot stop sucking on those cancer sticks (even though he claims tobacco does not give you cancer since he doesn't have it). For the white Christian senior who sends me those emails stating that the government will raise our taxes to pay for things since it's all Democrats, I have to ask you something: where the freak do you think the money is going to come from to pay for the billions that are being thrown at the auto makers and to the financial sector? (Same goes for those moaning here in Cali about how schools are getting screwed and how this and that are getting screwed - bend over and accept that new sales tax or having our property taxes go up a couple of percent.) Do you seriously think that the money fairy is going to come along and make it all better?
Give the man a year to get a feel for the reins. He's got a lot to do and it's going to take awhile. Stop saying he'll fail. You don't seriously think that the arm candy of the Budweiser heiress and his Fargo-esque running mate were going to make this all disappear overnight either do you?
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Why I'm going to the mall on Christmas Eve
Today, I'm going to Stanford Shopping Center. Not for Christmas shopping, because I'm kind of on the done side of that. No, I'm going because I need to be alone.
That sounds really weird I know. The mall, despite the rain, is going to be packed with last minute idiots who procrastinated because they think they can buy for 15 people and NO ONE is going to be at the mall.
Husband and a couple of other friends have said to me, "Do you know the mall is really full on Christmas Eve?" Despite the fact I worked in a mall for oh say five years, they don't realise that I am deeply aware of the fact that I'm exceptionally aware that the mall is packed on Christmas Eve. The fact is that I had to deal with drunken men showing up at four pm and saying they are starting Christmas shopping for their entire family (parents, in laws, children, wives etc) just then. I would tell them the mall closes at five and they'd laugh and say that the mall would stay open for them. And I would stay open for them. And I would say (since I was the lead on Christmas Eve which meant I was technically in charge), "Unless you plan to spend $5000 in my store, no I'm not." I'd get that indignant noise and a vague threat of telling my manager which I'd remind them that all of the employees of all the store actually want to go home and be with their families for some strange reason on Christmas Eve. We'd actually get a few assholes who were pissed off that we weren't open on Christmas Day because it inconvenienced them because they started their shopping at three pm on CE. Um, you had 11 months to plan this, what the fuck are you waiting for?
No, my Mom is here and she will take on Boy for a few hours so I can have time alone. I want to be where I don't have to make small talk or have to say "don't touch that" to Boy. Husband has to work so he's going to be indisposed until six. Even though Husband pointed out that last Saturday I had a pedicure so shouldn't that be considered time alone, I don't. Sitting in a chair while a polite Asian woman works on my feet asking questions she doesn't actually want the answer to isn't being alone. She would like me to ask her the same questions back so that she can increase the size of her tip. (If you think this is cynical, next time you go for a pedicure or a hair appointment even at the high end day spas around here, see what the conversation steers you to. In the end, you get a sob story from the facialist about how her grown daughter and her family are moving in with her because her husband lost his job. It is so she can get a bigger tip. The fact that maybe her son in law had a high paying job but they pissed most of it away on fabulous vacations and expensive cars instead of saving it for the down payment on the house they had on a variable rate mortgage that went through the freakin' roof doesn't come up.)
I just want to go away. Be around people without having to make a relationship with them even for an hour. Sure, there are a couple of things I need. I need hair care since my hair and scalp have put a massive veto on the cheap stuff I bought at Target. And there are a couple of things that I know Husband liked I got for him for his birthday that I would like to pick up for a stocking stuffer. The places I'm going to patronize aren't going to be packed with frantic faces desperate to impress someone (but on sale of course).
I want to eat a meal where I'm not trying to keep a small child from running around the restaurant. To read a magazine article or something off my iPod that relaxes me rather than stresses me. Drink my hot chocolate without having my arm yanked so it rains on my clothes.
Merry Christmas to me.
That sounds really weird I know. The mall, despite the rain, is going to be packed with last minute idiots who procrastinated because they think they can buy for 15 people and NO ONE is going to be at the mall.
Husband and a couple of other friends have said to me, "Do you know the mall is really full on Christmas Eve?" Despite the fact I worked in a mall for oh say five years, they don't realise that I am deeply aware of the fact that I'm exceptionally aware that the mall is packed on Christmas Eve. The fact is that I had to deal with drunken men showing up at four pm and saying they are starting Christmas shopping for their entire family (parents, in laws, children, wives etc) just then. I would tell them the mall closes at five and they'd laugh and say that the mall would stay open for them. And I would stay open for them. And I would say (since I was the lead on Christmas Eve which meant I was technically in charge), "Unless you plan to spend $5000 in my store, no I'm not." I'd get that indignant noise and a vague threat of telling my manager which I'd remind them that all of the employees of all the store actually want to go home and be with their families for some strange reason on Christmas Eve. We'd actually get a few assholes who were pissed off that we weren't open on Christmas Day because it inconvenienced them because they started their shopping at three pm on CE. Um, you had 11 months to plan this, what the fuck are you waiting for?
No, my Mom is here and she will take on Boy for a few hours so I can have time alone. I want to be where I don't have to make small talk or have to say "don't touch that" to Boy. Husband has to work so he's going to be indisposed until six. Even though Husband pointed out that last Saturday I had a pedicure so shouldn't that be considered time alone, I don't. Sitting in a chair while a polite Asian woman works on my feet asking questions she doesn't actually want the answer to isn't being alone. She would like me to ask her the same questions back so that she can increase the size of her tip. (If you think this is cynical, next time you go for a pedicure or a hair appointment even at the high end day spas around here, see what the conversation steers you to. In the end, you get a sob story from the facialist about how her grown daughter and her family are moving in with her because her husband lost his job. It is so she can get a bigger tip. The fact that maybe her son in law had a high paying job but they pissed most of it away on fabulous vacations and expensive cars instead of saving it for the down payment on the house they had on a variable rate mortgage that went through the freakin' roof doesn't come up.)
I just want to go away. Be around people without having to make a relationship with them even for an hour. Sure, there are a couple of things I need. I need hair care since my hair and scalp have put a massive veto on the cheap stuff I bought at Target. And there are a couple of things that I know Husband liked I got for him for his birthday that I would like to pick up for a stocking stuffer. The places I'm going to patronize aren't going to be packed with frantic faces desperate to impress someone (but on sale of course).
I want to eat a meal where I'm not trying to keep a small child from running around the restaurant. To read a magazine article or something off my iPod that relaxes me rather than stresses me. Drink my hot chocolate without having my arm yanked so it rains on my clothes.
Merry Christmas to me.
Friday, October 17, 2008
"Enjoy it now because the time is so short..." and other stupid things people say
I wish I could smack the next person who gives me that smile and says about having a three year old, "Enjoy the time you have with him because this time is just so short." Or my other 'favourite' which is "You should ignore the doctor and have another child." Really?
It happened yesterday while I was out shopping. The sales clerk - who had to be around my age or if she wasn't, really looked older than she should - and I were chatting while she was ringing me up. We both have three year olds and she was saying the line about enjoying this time with them and how she thought I should have another one. When I demurred, she said that she nearly died with her second son but decided to have the third one. And if that didn't stop her, why should I not have another one?
Politely, I told her that I would rather be relatively healthy with my one than extremely ill with two that I couldn't take care of. I didn't want to remind her that of course being a Mom was grand for her - she got to escape her kids for a few hours a day by working. It's easier to appreciate your kids when they aren't driving you nuts 24/7.
What I really want to tell these busybodies who mean well or just don't know when to back the fuck off the subject is...
Sure, tell me how to enjoy this time when I spend it cleaning up the last mess my son did while trying to kill himself. The water he sprayed all over the floor in the kitchen when he moved the chair in there so he could play with the attachment because I was busy trying to clean up the water on the floor in the bathroom that he poured in the floor while he was standing in the sink. Why was he in there? Because I was peeing in my bathroom. I know, how silly of me to leave him alone for two minutes but I hadn't peed in two hours and my bladder was going to burst. What a selfish thing to do.
Oh, and by the way, enjoying the time is great when you've had sleep but I haven't slept eight straight hours more than four times in three years. Don't tell me that I can sleep when he sleeps because when he finally goes down at night, it's the only time I have to get my house clean and put away all the toys that ended up under the couch. It's the only time I have to catch up on wrapping packages and writing out birthday cards to friends and family. It's the only time I have to talk to my husband and watch the three shows I DVR'd to save my sanity from endless Caillou, Dragon Tales, et al.
No, my son isn't ADD or ADHD or any of those alphabet soup things. He's a kid with far more energy than his middle aged Mother can handle. He's too curious about the world and I am constantly trying to keep ahead of him in a house that isn't built for a curious toddler. The locks are a joke so I'm constantly chasing him back into the house from the backyard with its dangers and trying to keep him out of the garage with the tools my husband has decided do not need to be put away. Short of locking him in a large dog kennel, I'm going to be a heartbeat away from wondering when he's going to really do damage to himself.
So, no, I'm not enjoying this that much. I do not want to do this again. At least, not without a buttload of cash for a nanny to do the chasing.
It happened yesterday while I was out shopping. The sales clerk - who had to be around my age or if she wasn't, really looked older than she should - and I were chatting while she was ringing me up. We both have three year olds and she was saying the line about enjoying this time with them and how she thought I should have another one. When I demurred, she said that she nearly died with her second son but decided to have the third one. And if that didn't stop her, why should I not have another one?
Politely, I told her that I would rather be relatively healthy with my one than extremely ill with two that I couldn't take care of. I didn't want to remind her that of course being a Mom was grand for her - she got to escape her kids for a few hours a day by working. It's easier to appreciate your kids when they aren't driving you nuts 24/7.
What I really want to tell these busybodies who mean well or just don't know when to back the fuck off the subject is...
Sure, tell me how to enjoy this time when I spend it cleaning up the last mess my son did while trying to kill himself. The water he sprayed all over the floor in the kitchen when he moved the chair in there so he could play with the attachment because I was busy trying to clean up the water on the floor in the bathroom that he poured in the floor while he was standing in the sink. Why was he in there? Because I was peeing in my bathroom. I know, how silly of me to leave him alone for two minutes but I hadn't peed in two hours and my bladder was going to burst. What a selfish thing to do.
Oh, and by the way, enjoying the time is great when you've had sleep but I haven't slept eight straight hours more than four times in three years. Don't tell me that I can sleep when he sleeps because when he finally goes down at night, it's the only time I have to get my house clean and put away all the toys that ended up under the couch. It's the only time I have to catch up on wrapping packages and writing out birthday cards to friends and family. It's the only time I have to talk to my husband and watch the three shows I DVR'd to save my sanity from endless Caillou, Dragon Tales, et al.
No, my son isn't ADD or ADHD or any of those alphabet soup things. He's a kid with far more energy than his middle aged Mother can handle. He's too curious about the world and I am constantly trying to keep ahead of him in a house that isn't built for a curious toddler. The locks are a joke so I'm constantly chasing him back into the house from the backyard with its dangers and trying to keep him out of the garage with the tools my husband has decided do not need to be put away. Short of locking him in a large dog kennel, I'm going to be a heartbeat away from wondering when he's going to really do damage to himself.
So, no, I'm not enjoying this that much. I do not want to do this again. At least, not without a buttload of cash for a nanny to do the chasing.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Getting beat up
Not in the physical sense but it feels an awful lot like it after awhile. Maybe that's what all those depression hurts ads mean.
The last two months have been a bitch. Between Husband and I going round and round about the money issue, Boy has been not adjusting to his new preschool as quickly as his school would like him to. They had us in about two weeks ago to discuss putting him into an evaluation with Stanford university to find out what his issues are. We know that Boy is a little behind his peer group when it comes to speaking. His vocabulary is behind other kids but it isn't something that actually worries me. Husband yes, me no. But we made the appointment knowing the insurance company covers almost bupkis of it.
The meeting with the psychiatrist wasn't as horrible as I would have thought. She is going to watch Boy at his preschool and then in two 2 hour sessions, evaluated him for a variety of things - IQ, fine and gross motor skills, etc. It will be more to pin point anything that might be amiss in his little head. Based on our just over an hour with her, she has some basic ideas of things that might be going on from what we've told her. She refuses to give us speculation because she wants to see Boy in action.
You can't help as a Mom to wonder what your part in your child's quirks is your doing. Was it the unpasturized brie I had in my second trimester? Did I not exercise too much or too little? Should I have forced him to sit through Baby Einstein though he kept looking at the vids and at me like I was on crack? What did I do wrong?
I've told a few friends what I'm going through and I've gotten pretty good support out of it. It's not like I want to advertise that Boy is being evaluated for possible defects. Even though we all know that if there is something miswired in a kid's head, there are some who will shy away from bringing their kid into your kid's circle lest they catch it. And there is something about having the unsolicited advice of those who feel they are the arbiters of all knowledge on child raising. Ugh.
So you can imagine how I felt bitch slapped by Hollie when she sent me a sharply worded email telling me that I needed to get Boy's hearing tested - that she has told me this a few times and why will I not listen to her? Right now, the last thing I need - and even she has acknowledged this in said email - is to be even more stressed out but there she goes. I politely told her we'd look into it in an email back. Let's just say there will be no return phone calls to Hollie for a few days because I'm just so very hurt by what she wrote.
Is she right? Sure. Boy probably should get a hearing test. Just to rule out the possibility that he's got some hearing issues. My ears are burned out from all the freakin' times I've listened to the Caillou theme song. He's listened to it even more than I have.
But what cheesed me is that she really didn't seem to read the email I sent closely. She seems to think that this is something the preschool is doing rather that an outside agency. That we are paying out of pocket $1500 that we don't have to find out if our son has Asperger's or an IQ of 190 or something. That it is through Stanford University which isn't exactly Beau's College of Yungins and Rubber Goods. I wanted to explain to her in longer sentences that Stanford University is sending a psychiatrist on staff with their childrens' center to the preschool to observe for an hour Boy doing what Boy does. Then we are going for one day over two weeks for two hour sessions to test Boy on various skills to eliminate things to figure out what is going on in Boy's little head.
Why didn't I? Because one, I hate confrontation and two, I'm too damned polite. And three, Hollie is stressed out by having just moved back in with her parents after living on her own for 18 years so she can finish her doctorate dissertation and holding down a part time job in her field that is really new to her. The last thing I want to do is piss her off when she's not thinking straight and lose my other best friend. I'm floundering enough in my life without the easy chat I once had with my other best friend but to lose this one would leave me even more adrift.
What would I have preferred? Just tell me that you're thinking good thoughts and to talk to the pediatrician about possible hearing tests. After I get all the test results back in three weeks from the psychiatrist, then bring up the whole why don't we eliminate the hearing issue thing again. It is really aggrevating to have to deal with this attack when I'm feeling fragile as it is. You want your friends to help but some times, you feel like all you get is needles thrown at you. Or darts. Or worse.
The last two months have been a bitch. Between Husband and I going round and round about the money issue, Boy has been not adjusting to his new preschool as quickly as his school would like him to. They had us in about two weeks ago to discuss putting him into an evaluation with Stanford university to find out what his issues are. We know that Boy is a little behind his peer group when it comes to speaking. His vocabulary is behind other kids but it isn't something that actually worries me. Husband yes, me no. But we made the appointment knowing the insurance company covers almost bupkis of it.
The meeting with the psychiatrist wasn't as horrible as I would have thought. She is going to watch Boy at his preschool and then in two 2 hour sessions, evaluated him for a variety of things - IQ, fine and gross motor skills, etc. It will be more to pin point anything that might be amiss in his little head. Based on our just over an hour with her, she has some basic ideas of things that might be going on from what we've told her. She refuses to give us speculation because she wants to see Boy in action.
You can't help as a Mom to wonder what your part in your child's quirks is your doing. Was it the unpasturized brie I had in my second trimester? Did I not exercise too much or too little? Should I have forced him to sit through Baby Einstein though he kept looking at the vids and at me like I was on crack? What did I do wrong?
I've told a few friends what I'm going through and I've gotten pretty good support out of it. It's not like I want to advertise that Boy is being evaluated for possible defects. Even though we all know that if there is something miswired in a kid's head, there are some who will shy away from bringing their kid into your kid's circle lest they catch it. And there is something about having the unsolicited advice of those who feel they are the arbiters of all knowledge on child raising. Ugh.
So you can imagine how I felt bitch slapped by Hollie when she sent me a sharply worded email telling me that I needed to get Boy's hearing tested - that she has told me this a few times and why will I not listen to her? Right now, the last thing I need - and even she has acknowledged this in said email - is to be even more stressed out but there she goes. I politely told her we'd look into it in an email back. Let's just say there will be no return phone calls to Hollie for a few days because I'm just so very hurt by what she wrote.
Is she right? Sure. Boy probably should get a hearing test. Just to rule out the possibility that he's got some hearing issues. My ears are burned out from all the freakin' times I've listened to the Caillou theme song. He's listened to it even more than I have.
But what cheesed me is that she really didn't seem to read the email I sent closely. She seems to think that this is something the preschool is doing rather that an outside agency. That we are paying out of pocket $1500 that we don't have to find out if our son has Asperger's or an IQ of 190 or something. That it is through Stanford University which isn't exactly Beau's College of Yungins and Rubber Goods. I wanted to explain to her in longer sentences that Stanford University is sending a psychiatrist on staff with their childrens' center to the preschool to observe for an hour Boy doing what Boy does. Then we are going for one day over two weeks for two hour sessions to test Boy on various skills to eliminate things to figure out what is going on in Boy's little head.
Why didn't I? Because one, I hate confrontation and two, I'm too damned polite. And three, Hollie is stressed out by having just moved back in with her parents after living on her own for 18 years so she can finish her doctorate dissertation and holding down a part time job in her field that is really new to her. The last thing I want to do is piss her off when she's not thinking straight and lose my other best friend. I'm floundering enough in my life without the easy chat I once had with my other best friend but to lose this one would leave me even more adrift.
What would I have preferred? Just tell me that you're thinking good thoughts and to talk to the pediatrician about possible hearing tests. After I get all the test results back in three weeks from the psychiatrist, then bring up the whole why don't we eliminate the hearing issue thing again. It is really aggrevating to have to deal with this attack when I'm feeling fragile as it is. You want your friends to help but some times, you feel like all you get is needles thrown at you. Or darts. Or worse.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Overwhelmed
I read a great article in Cookie magazine about a parent who talked about being overwhelmed by all the stuff the school threw at parents early in the year. Stuff like fund raising and volunteering for field trips before the kids could remember where they sat in class each day.
Boy started his new preschool this month and I found a couple broadsheets from Scholastic book services waiting. I remember those from when I was a kid and loved them. Boy I think is too young to get into them or care about them. I probably will order a couple of books for him to try to get into. There a couple of fund raisers in the offing that we'd been warned about so I'm just waiting for it all to begin.
A good friend sent me an email soliciting my purchases for his son's school. He emailed to apologize to me that it was being sent out on the first day of school and they were getting high pressure already to make sure that their child sold a lot. First prize is a weekend at a local resort that he said was marginal at best. He'd rather the money go back to the school. I bought two magazine subscriptions to magazines I buy at the grocery store anyhow.
It's not just school that seems to feel the need to pressure you to participate. I belong to a Mother's Club and there was a fundraiser this summer that they asked people to participate in. My plan was to drop off some things for it but I couldn't get Husband to buy in and help me with assembling everything so the event passed us by. I didn't volunteer to staff the event because we had plans for the weekend that precluded my actually being able to get involved.
Come Monday morning, an email went out that praised lavishly all that had been involved and a not-so-subtle slap at those of us who didn't do anything. How wonderful those who were willing to go out of their way to help with the fundraiser and how these are such terrific human beings (the allusion that those of us who might have other things going on was that we might be less than delightful people). The lovefest continued for a few days then faded like a red dress in the Mojave desert in July.
The Mother's Club has emails that go out a few times a week from various members about how they want donations to the charities they work for or with or how we should be buying tickets for dinner dances or raffles or plays that will benefit this or that. And some times, there is a follow up that chides us for not buying the $30, $45, $50 or more dollar ticket. Or sending that check in to help a family in dire straights during the holidays.
Coupled with the never ending phone calls from the charities that I some times feel were a mistake to give to in the first place that want me to help them during this dire crisis of the week it seems that the whole world is filled with beggars with their palms outstretched. Give, give, give. We need it more than you possibly can use it. The oceans are dying! Children in this impoverished nation will die if you don't help us! Education is suffering because of the Governator! Your son's favourite PBS shows will disappear because we are spending a fortune on anything but quality programming on PBS channels!
So where do we draw the line? Every time I have to answer to phone to silence it so it doesn't waken Boy in midnap, I'm confronted by a telemarketer who knows my name since I gave to the charity before who doesn't take my polite, no, I can't as an answer. I know their job is to tap me for as much as they can. And yes, I do feel bad when it's the beneviolent order of widows and children of fallen officers but it's hard to deal with when they say they are sending me stuff because they know I'll kick down $100 or $50 or $25 or $10 for the packet they send.
Economic times are hard all over the US. A good friend confided that her husband lost his job during a takeover and now they need to figure out how to survive on their savings until he finds work again. (Before someone says pithily that she should go back to work, some families have chosen that childcare be given to one member of the family and the other gets the joy of escaping their kid(s) for the joys of a job) We are economizing because Husband has decided we spend too much money (translated: I spend too much money on trivial things like food, Boy's clothes, things on sale that would make great gifts for people down the road etc but neglecting to remember how he spent $250 on some little thing that he played with once then put in the closet because it wasn't what he thought it would be. Again). My grand 'allowance' each week is roughly a quarter to a third of what I was spending before. Husband has said I should "think" about what I'm buying and whether we really need it. I felt like asking him if we really needed to get another tech gadget when he went to Fry's last weekend but I refrained. Instead, I simply withdrew a smaller amount of money than I would usually spend each week and that is all I will spend each week. When the money is gone, the money is gone.
It works pretty well. Husband has said I can use more if I need it and I've told him that with Boy's birthday party and his parents' visiting, I will need to extra money to buy his parents' favourite drinks and lunch items as well as the dinners that I will have to create for them. The cold fish stare followed by a comment that his parents didn't need the amount of drinks that I was buying since they didn't drink all that (Husband isn't home most of his parents' visit so he has no idea how much or how little his parents' consume) and did I really need to buy drinks for the party? Couldn't everyone just have water, juice and milk? What we have in the fridge?
The fact that we have nearly 25 people coming over with different needs makes it tough for me to get through to Husband that no, three of the kids are lactose intolerent and two of the kids can't have juice after noon and if we are having burgers and dogs, we should have have condiments and chips to go with them....
Money is an issue. So why do we have to be guilted into spending money on other people who don't have much either?
Boy started his new preschool this month and I found a couple broadsheets from Scholastic book services waiting. I remember those from when I was a kid and loved them. Boy I think is too young to get into them or care about them. I probably will order a couple of books for him to try to get into. There a couple of fund raisers in the offing that we'd been warned about so I'm just waiting for it all to begin.
A good friend sent me an email soliciting my purchases for his son's school. He emailed to apologize to me that it was being sent out on the first day of school and they were getting high pressure already to make sure that their child sold a lot. First prize is a weekend at a local resort that he said was marginal at best. He'd rather the money go back to the school. I bought two magazine subscriptions to magazines I buy at the grocery store anyhow.
It's not just school that seems to feel the need to pressure you to participate. I belong to a Mother's Club and there was a fundraiser this summer that they asked people to participate in. My plan was to drop off some things for it but I couldn't get Husband to buy in and help me with assembling everything so the event passed us by. I didn't volunteer to staff the event because we had plans for the weekend that precluded my actually being able to get involved.
Come Monday morning, an email went out that praised lavishly all that had been involved and a not-so-subtle slap at those of us who didn't do anything. How wonderful those who were willing to go out of their way to help with the fundraiser and how these are such terrific human beings (the allusion that those of us who might have other things going on was that we might be less than delightful people). The lovefest continued for a few days then faded like a red dress in the Mojave desert in July.
The Mother's Club has emails that go out a few times a week from various members about how they want donations to the charities they work for or with or how we should be buying tickets for dinner dances or raffles or plays that will benefit this or that. And some times, there is a follow up that chides us for not buying the $30, $45, $50 or more dollar ticket. Or sending that check in to help a family in dire straights during the holidays.
Coupled with the never ending phone calls from the charities that I some times feel were a mistake to give to in the first place that want me to help them during this dire crisis of the week it seems that the whole world is filled with beggars with their palms outstretched. Give, give, give. We need it more than you possibly can use it. The oceans are dying! Children in this impoverished nation will die if you don't help us! Education is suffering because of the Governator! Your son's favourite PBS shows will disappear because we are spending a fortune on anything but quality programming on PBS channels!
So where do we draw the line? Every time I have to answer to phone to silence it so it doesn't waken Boy in midnap, I'm confronted by a telemarketer who knows my name since I gave to the charity before who doesn't take my polite, no, I can't as an answer. I know their job is to tap me for as much as they can. And yes, I do feel bad when it's the beneviolent order of widows and children of fallen officers but it's hard to deal with when they say they are sending me stuff because they know I'll kick down $100 or $50 or $25 or $10 for the packet they send.
Economic times are hard all over the US. A good friend confided that her husband lost his job during a takeover and now they need to figure out how to survive on their savings until he finds work again. (Before someone says pithily that she should go back to work, some families have chosen that childcare be given to one member of the family and the other gets the joy of escaping their kid(s) for the joys of a job) We are economizing because Husband has decided we spend too much money (translated: I spend too much money on trivial things like food, Boy's clothes, things on sale that would make great gifts for people down the road etc but neglecting to remember how he spent $250 on some little thing that he played with once then put in the closet because it wasn't what he thought it would be. Again). My grand 'allowance' each week is roughly a quarter to a third of what I was spending before. Husband has said I should "think" about what I'm buying and whether we really need it. I felt like asking him if we really needed to get another tech gadget when he went to Fry's last weekend but I refrained. Instead, I simply withdrew a smaller amount of money than I would usually spend each week and that is all I will spend each week. When the money is gone, the money is gone.
It works pretty well. Husband has said I can use more if I need it and I've told him that with Boy's birthday party and his parents' visiting, I will need to extra money to buy his parents' favourite drinks and lunch items as well as the dinners that I will have to create for them. The cold fish stare followed by a comment that his parents didn't need the amount of drinks that I was buying since they didn't drink all that (Husband isn't home most of his parents' visit so he has no idea how much or how little his parents' consume) and did I really need to buy drinks for the party? Couldn't everyone just have water, juice and milk? What we have in the fridge?
The fact that we have nearly 25 people coming over with different needs makes it tough for me to get through to Husband that no, three of the kids are lactose intolerent and two of the kids can't have juice after noon and if we are having burgers and dogs, we should have have condiments and chips to go with them....
Money is an issue. So why do we have to be guilted into spending money on other people who don't have much either?
Monday, August 11, 2008
Why we don't go on vacation
Since Boy turned two years old, I've been asking Husband to go on a short vacation. A family vacation. Not to anyplace expensive (like Madrid or Malaysia) or anyplace unrealistic (like St Petersberg of the African savanna). Local to a certain degree. Not Disneyland (I don't believe it is cost effect to take any child under the age of six to Dland - they aren't tall enough for the vast majority of the rides and some scare the crap out of them). But to Legoland. Or Yosemite. Or to visit friends in Phoenix. Or to Bryce National Park or Grand Canyon.
But his answers always seem to be kind of ridiculous. "Boy is too young to enjoy (fill in the blank)." "What is there that is worth seeing?"
In Husband's mind, the best vacation is going back to his hometown and hanging out with his friends. He's already said that next summer, we will go back to his hometown and hang out with his best friend and his best friend's young family. Which means Boy and I will hang out with the wife and kid while Husband and his best friend go off to the best friend's fishing shack for three days of drinking and general stupidity. A howling great time for them, but seriously boring time for the Mommies who will spend their time chasing toddlers and trying to guess when they will get to eat a meal. Or he wants to go to Vegas without Boy but of course, in his mind, that means my Mom will have to take care of Boy for five days which is about four and a half days too long.
My in laws moved from where Husband grew up to where my Father in Law (FIL) grew up because they could buy more for their buck. They have a big piece of land with a nice house in the middle of nowhere. They didn't grow up in happy households and left home as soon as they possibly could, joining the military. While my Mother in Law (MIL) left the military after ten years to raise Husband, my FIL stayed in, growing increasing unhappy. The more unhappy he was, the more he and MIL drank.
When Husband and I were dating, my MIL gave me a photo album of Husband. It was 50 pages long but there were maybe 10 pictures of Husband and the rest were dizzy pictures of drunken revels. They would have a party any night that FIL didn't have to work the next day. Because there was little money in the house, their family vacations were spent at home with days of cleaning up and nights of drunken revelry. If they went anywhere, they were car trips from where they lived in the Midwest to where FIL grew up. Hours spent in a car with smoking parents who were upset about the expense.
Even before Boy was born, we would visit my in laws and our week was spent in the house doing nothing. My FIL would work on his classic truck or go down to the local garage to help out. My MIL would work around the house or go to her women's club meetings or sit around smoking and reading. After awhile, I would get stir crazy. It wasn't like I could walk into town (the town a half mile away consists of a general store, two churches and a post office) to find amusement. Or any local sites. I suggested one time we drive to a famous landmark two hours away in a famous town which we did. My FIL spent the entire drive grim and angry. It was off season and almost everything was closed. His attitude was that since I proposed it, I should have done the research in finding things to do there.
I grew up with a Father who had the attitude if someone came to visit us, we should get out to show them the area. He also believed that we should enjoy the area within 300 miles of our home as much as possible since we lived in California. My early memories are of being carried out to our station wagon late at night on Thursday night and driving for a couple of hours on our way to one of my parents' friends homes. We'd stop half way, have sandwiches, then drive on to their houses. We'd spend the weekend having fun before driving home on Sunday so Dad could get to work on Monday. I saw Yosemite, Grand Canyon, Sea World, the redwoods, etc before I was ten because we'd have friends and family visit and my Dad would pack us all up so we could see everything.
Boy is nearly three years old. We've seen the redwoods only because I insisted. I had asked that Husband ask his parents to stay an extra week so we could go to Yosemite since Husband has been wanting to see it since he moved to California almost a decade ago. The blank stare from Husband. My in laws are coming for their customary one week (you can sent a watch by it). No trip. It'll be five days (day one is a travel day in and day seven is a travel day out) of them being inmates of our home. FIL will do odd jobs around the house Husband can't or won't do. MIL will go buy books then sit in the house reading our library of books. She might accompany me to Target to buy things for Boy or to Costco. But for the most part, there isn't a whole lot else that they have in mind to do. Husband works the entire week they are here and sees very little of them.
In retrospect, the idea of Yosemite with them is ridiculous. They complain of their physical problems that restrict them from doing anything like walking around to admire the park. My MIL has found excuses since Boy was nine pounds to not hold him. My FIL has a bad back so he can't sit in a car for that long. Despite the fact I was born with congenital issues with my legs and I have arthritis in my back, I keep on keeping on. My friends know that I can walk for 45 minutes without a problem but I have to rest for at least 15 minutes so my legs and back can get a break. I refuse to let my physical problems slow me down.
My Mother has proposed to spend some money she is getting from an inheritance on a family vacation. An Alaskan cruise next year. She is willing to pay for our cruises and a couple of nights of hotel stays before and after the cruise. We have to cover airfare and all our extras on the ship. I mentioned it to my in laws (without telling them about my Mom paying for a bulk of it) and they said NO! Husband says they are worried about the expense. Even if my Mom covers the most expensive part of it. Husband has shown little interest in an Alaskan cruise ("what is there to do?") which frustrates me.
Finally, in a fit of frustration, I told my Mom about all of this. She also remembers the vacations we took to Virginia City, Tombstone, Yellowstone and Tillamook cheese factory. They are part of her memories as well as mine. She can't understand Husband's reluctance to go out and spend some of our savings on a trip. I agree that he would rather spend $500 on a gadget than spend it on a trip to Legoland or a long weekend in Yosemite. It's not as if he doesn't have a lot of vacation time - he gets two weeks and this year, has used two days. (Yes, it's August and he's used two days. If he'd gone to his hometown like he wanted to for his best friend's 40th birthday part he would have taken an entire week off.)
So, my Mom has decreed that next year, she will take Boy, her and I on a trip to Alaska on a cruise even without Husband if he finds he can't get away from his job. And we'll go visit friends in Phoenix. And go to San Diego to Legoland and Sea World. Which I'm over the moon about.
I was six months pregnant when Husband said he didn't want Boy to have the childhood he had. He wanted to make sure he was home more than his Dad was. He was going to be more affectionate than he parents were. He wanted Boy to have a better childhood than he did. I took that as a sign that he wanted to make sure that great memories were a part of it.
Now, I find that he's pushing back by not wanting to do things based on his own desire not to do them. Boy would have memories of vacations consisting of us visiting his Grandmom (my Mom) every couple of months for 48 hours before driving back so Daddy could get back to work. Or going to Grandmom's house for a four days because Mommy wanted to go visit. It's good that he'll have these great memories of spending time with his Grandmom but I want him to have memories of seeing things that were interesting and grand.
Why is a vacation so hard?
But his answers always seem to be kind of ridiculous. "Boy is too young to enjoy (fill in the blank)." "What is there that is worth seeing?"
In Husband's mind, the best vacation is going back to his hometown and hanging out with his friends. He's already said that next summer, we will go back to his hometown and hang out with his best friend and his best friend's young family. Which means Boy and I will hang out with the wife and kid while Husband and his best friend go off to the best friend's fishing shack for three days of drinking and general stupidity. A howling great time for them, but seriously boring time for the Mommies who will spend their time chasing toddlers and trying to guess when they will get to eat a meal. Or he wants to go to Vegas without Boy but of course, in his mind, that means my Mom will have to take care of Boy for five days which is about four and a half days too long.
My in laws moved from where Husband grew up to where my Father in Law (FIL) grew up because they could buy more for their buck. They have a big piece of land with a nice house in the middle of nowhere. They didn't grow up in happy households and left home as soon as they possibly could, joining the military. While my Mother in Law (MIL) left the military after ten years to raise Husband, my FIL stayed in, growing increasing unhappy. The more unhappy he was, the more he and MIL drank.
When Husband and I were dating, my MIL gave me a photo album of Husband. It was 50 pages long but there were maybe 10 pictures of Husband and the rest were dizzy pictures of drunken revels. They would have a party any night that FIL didn't have to work the next day. Because there was little money in the house, their family vacations were spent at home with days of cleaning up and nights of drunken revelry. If they went anywhere, they were car trips from where they lived in the Midwest to where FIL grew up. Hours spent in a car with smoking parents who were upset about the expense.
Even before Boy was born, we would visit my in laws and our week was spent in the house doing nothing. My FIL would work on his classic truck or go down to the local garage to help out. My MIL would work around the house or go to her women's club meetings or sit around smoking and reading. After awhile, I would get stir crazy. It wasn't like I could walk into town (the town a half mile away consists of a general store, two churches and a post office) to find amusement. Or any local sites. I suggested one time we drive to a famous landmark two hours away in a famous town which we did. My FIL spent the entire drive grim and angry. It was off season and almost everything was closed. His attitude was that since I proposed it, I should have done the research in finding things to do there.
I grew up with a Father who had the attitude if someone came to visit us, we should get out to show them the area. He also believed that we should enjoy the area within 300 miles of our home as much as possible since we lived in California. My early memories are of being carried out to our station wagon late at night on Thursday night and driving for a couple of hours on our way to one of my parents' friends homes. We'd stop half way, have sandwiches, then drive on to their houses. We'd spend the weekend having fun before driving home on Sunday so Dad could get to work on Monday. I saw Yosemite, Grand Canyon, Sea World, the redwoods, etc before I was ten because we'd have friends and family visit and my Dad would pack us all up so we could see everything.
Boy is nearly three years old. We've seen the redwoods only because I insisted. I had asked that Husband ask his parents to stay an extra week so we could go to Yosemite since Husband has been wanting to see it since he moved to California almost a decade ago. The blank stare from Husband. My in laws are coming for their customary one week (you can sent a watch by it). No trip. It'll be five days (day one is a travel day in and day seven is a travel day out) of them being inmates of our home. FIL will do odd jobs around the house Husband can't or won't do. MIL will go buy books then sit in the house reading our library of books. She might accompany me to Target to buy things for Boy or to Costco. But for the most part, there isn't a whole lot else that they have in mind to do. Husband works the entire week they are here and sees very little of them.
In retrospect, the idea of Yosemite with them is ridiculous. They complain of their physical problems that restrict them from doing anything like walking around to admire the park. My MIL has found excuses since Boy was nine pounds to not hold him. My FIL has a bad back so he can't sit in a car for that long. Despite the fact I was born with congenital issues with my legs and I have arthritis in my back, I keep on keeping on. My friends know that I can walk for 45 minutes without a problem but I have to rest for at least 15 minutes so my legs and back can get a break. I refuse to let my physical problems slow me down.
My Mother has proposed to spend some money she is getting from an inheritance on a family vacation. An Alaskan cruise next year. She is willing to pay for our cruises and a couple of nights of hotel stays before and after the cruise. We have to cover airfare and all our extras on the ship. I mentioned it to my in laws (without telling them about my Mom paying for a bulk of it) and they said NO! Husband says they are worried about the expense. Even if my Mom covers the most expensive part of it. Husband has shown little interest in an Alaskan cruise ("what is there to do?") which frustrates me.
Finally, in a fit of frustration, I told my Mom about all of this. She also remembers the vacations we took to Virginia City, Tombstone, Yellowstone and Tillamook cheese factory. They are part of her memories as well as mine. She can't understand Husband's reluctance to go out and spend some of our savings on a trip. I agree that he would rather spend $500 on a gadget than spend it on a trip to Legoland or a long weekend in Yosemite. It's not as if he doesn't have a lot of vacation time - he gets two weeks and this year, has used two days. (Yes, it's August and he's used two days. If he'd gone to his hometown like he wanted to for his best friend's 40th birthday part he would have taken an entire week off.)
So, my Mom has decreed that next year, she will take Boy, her and I on a trip to Alaska on a cruise even without Husband if he finds he can't get away from his job. And we'll go visit friends in Phoenix. And go to San Diego to Legoland and Sea World. Which I'm over the moon about.
I was six months pregnant when Husband said he didn't want Boy to have the childhood he had. He wanted to make sure he was home more than his Dad was. He was going to be more affectionate than he parents were. He wanted Boy to have a better childhood than he did. I took that as a sign that he wanted to make sure that great memories were a part of it.
Now, I find that he's pushing back by not wanting to do things based on his own desire not to do them. Boy would have memories of vacations consisting of us visiting his Grandmom (my Mom) every couple of months for 48 hours before driving back so Daddy could get back to work. Or going to Grandmom's house for a four days because Mommy wanted to go visit. It's good that he'll have these great memories of spending time with his Grandmom but I want him to have memories of seeing things that were interesting and grand.
Why is a vacation so hard?
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Down into the rabbit hole
I have a Facebook account. I got it because Husband has one and a few friends had one. Mostly I abuse it for Scrabulous and it's successor, Wordscraper. My friends and I play against each other for shits and giggles.
But, I made a mistake. I didn't think that I'd end up finding myself down the rabbit hole of the past. I found old friends from high school. Most of which I wanted to find again. Some I wanted to tell how I felt about them and how I never had the courage to tell them when we were young that I thought they were amazing human beings. Others I just wanted to share a few good memories. One wanted to rehash a relationship he had with one of my high school best friends and what went terribly wrong with her. It was a little more painful to have to lay out this young woman's life in detail because I didn't know how to tell him that he was being played then and he still lets her play him now. I have no idea what became of her after the age of 19 when I cut her loose. I couldn't deal with her using people and expecting me to clean up her messes.
And from that man who is now in his 40s, married with kid, I find another friend who was a basket case. Her family life was sordid at best. She was unloved at home, as was her tortured psyche sibs, and desperate for attention. She was like one of those kittens or puppies at the animal adoption fair that is really trying to get your attention but seems to be just a little off. One of the last baby pets to be in the basket at the end of the fair and you adopt her then you find out that she's going to be the pet that isn't going to share you with anyone.
The story that says the most about her was one that I was told in high school from a friend. He was a year younger than me (she was a year older than me) and we were sitting around a camp fire on one of my yearly end of summer beach dos I threw. Don said that she had come on to him heavily when he was 15 and she 18. They had been at a party, drunk on cheap beer (Mickey's Wide Mouth I believe) and he had decided that if she wanted to have sex, so be it. So, they scampered off to her room where he started to have sex with her.
"She lay there like a board," he said, annoyed. "She just didn't want to be there."
So he got up and left her, unfinished. She said some things about him so in retaliation, he spray painted something unkind on the sidewalk in front of her house. A single word, quite blunt in his surmise of their few minutes of fumbling intimacy, that her parents took literally months to finally try to erase from their sidewalk.
It took me a half hour of thinking to decide if I wanted to admit her friendship on the arms length joys of Facebook. Right now, I've got a 'friend' on Facebook that hunted me down that I shared a post lay off class with who just never learned to get over his anger that he had been let go. He took it personally that he jumped on the tech bandwagon late in the game and didn't end up being a millionaire overnight. It never occurred to him that he was let go, as I was, along with 40K other people in our company. It can't be personal at that point. You're just a number to the leaders.
But in the case of this young woman that I shared 18 months of school with, there was more than annoyance at listening to tales of how screwed they got by a company. This woman had a rather complicated and tragic past (her youngest brother, adopted, reminded of it constantly by their distant parents, manufactured his version of his biological parents and when he finally hunted them down at 16 and found out that they were junkies, he came back to the only home he knew and took his own life). Would I find out after I had accepted her request for friendship now that we're in our 40s that she is still a broken human being?
I said yes.
She's still broken. New information poured in. She's still single. Recently re-singled. She has the classic sign of a single woman in her 40s: cats. Thankfully, she lives several states away so it will be tough for her to show up on our doorstep with a cat carrier or three to visit. Part of me wonders when she'll send me a note to say hello and ask about the high school best friend (that she also considered her best friend) that I cut loose at 19. Part of me wonders at what point am I going to have to find a cyber restraining order for her. Maybe I'll get lucky and she'll just send me pieces of flair.
But, I made a mistake. I didn't think that I'd end up finding myself down the rabbit hole of the past. I found old friends from high school. Most of which I wanted to find again. Some I wanted to tell how I felt about them and how I never had the courage to tell them when we were young that I thought they were amazing human beings. Others I just wanted to share a few good memories. One wanted to rehash a relationship he had with one of my high school best friends and what went terribly wrong with her. It was a little more painful to have to lay out this young woman's life in detail because I didn't know how to tell him that he was being played then and he still lets her play him now. I have no idea what became of her after the age of 19 when I cut her loose. I couldn't deal with her using people and expecting me to clean up her messes.
And from that man who is now in his 40s, married with kid, I find another friend who was a basket case. Her family life was sordid at best. She was unloved at home, as was her tortured psyche sibs, and desperate for attention. She was like one of those kittens or puppies at the animal adoption fair that is really trying to get your attention but seems to be just a little off. One of the last baby pets to be in the basket at the end of the fair and you adopt her then you find out that she's going to be the pet that isn't going to share you with anyone.
The story that says the most about her was one that I was told in high school from a friend. He was a year younger than me (she was a year older than me) and we were sitting around a camp fire on one of my yearly end of summer beach dos I threw. Don said that she had come on to him heavily when he was 15 and she 18. They had been at a party, drunk on cheap beer (Mickey's Wide Mouth I believe) and he had decided that if she wanted to have sex, so be it. So, they scampered off to her room where he started to have sex with her.
"She lay there like a board," he said, annoyed. "She just didn't want to be there."
So he got up and left her, unfinished. She said some things about him so in retaliation, he spray painted something unkind on the sidewalk in front of her house. A single word, quite blunt in his surmise of their few minutes of fumbling intimacy, that her parents took literally months to finally try to erase from their sidewalk.
It took me a half hour of thinking to decide if I wanted to admit her friendship on the arms length joys of Facebook. Right now, I've got a 'friend' on Facebook that hunted me down that I shared a post lay off class with who just never learned to get over his anger that he had been let go. He took it personally that he jumped on the tech bandwagon late in the game and didn't end up being a millionaire overnight. It never occurred to him that he was let go, as I was, along with 40K other people in our company. It can't be personal at that point. You're just a number to the leaders.
But in the case of this young woman that I shared 18 months of school with, there was more than annoyance at listening to tales of how screwed they got by a company. This woman had a rather complicated and tragic past (her youngest brother, adopted, reminded of it constantly by their distant parents, manufactured his version of his biological parents and when he finally hunted them down at 16 and found out that they were junkies, he came back to the only home he knew and took his own life). Would I find out after I had accepted her request for friendship now that we're in our 40s that she is still a broken human being?
I said yes.
She's still broken. New information poured in. She's still single. Recently re-singled. She has the classic sign of a single woman in her 40s: cats. Thankfully, she lives several states away so it will be tough for her to show up on our doorstep with a cat carrier or three to visit. Part of me wonders when she'll send me a note to say hello and ask about the high school best friend (that she also considered her best friend) that I cut loose at 19. Part of me wonders at what point am I going to have to find a cyber restraining order for her. Maybe I'll get lucky and she'll just send me pieces of flair.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)