Here's my "secret": I'm in pain almost all of the time. I try to deny it even to myself on all but my worst days. I don't like to talk about it that much because talking about it makes it real. And I don't want to sound like a whiney wimp, either. I dream of being the strong, limber person that I was 10 years ago. But some days I cannot deny the pain and fatigue because it is overwhelming. Today is one of those days.
It started immediately upon waking. I had the lower abdominal pain that I've been facing for 5 months now from the minute I woke up. This newish pain was supposedly from the ovarian cyst that they found on CT scan in February. But the cyst was gone at the beginning of April on ultrasound. And the pain is still there. And I am also having the back pain again that I was supposedly experiencing from my kidney stones in February and March. Well, those were crushed by lithotripsy and passed and the last X-ray in March showed no kidney stones remaining. So, I either have new ones (please no) or the pain wasn't really from the stones at all. Is it all from fibromyalgia?
See, this is what they tell me I have: fibromyalgia. It means that I have widespread pain and fatigue that comes and goes with very little warning. I also have stomach trouble that keeps me from eating dairy (oh ice cream, how I long for you!) and "brain fog" which makes me forget words while I'm speaking among other things like putting the wet clothes that I 've just put in the dryer back into the washer. I've been given this diagnosis by 3 different doctors over the past 7 years or so. And each time I wish they would tell me that I have something else. Something more treatable. Something that you can take a pill for. Something that people have heard of and believe in. Well, there are a handful of pills now approved by the oh-so-estimable FDA for treatment of fibromyalgia. And more people have heard of it now than had heard of it when I was first diagnosed 7 years ago. But I still hate it. And I'm embarrassed to say that I'd rather have something else. (I know, I know, be careful what you wish for...)
But here's the thing: I don't LOOK SICK. And, of course, I don't want to look sick. But, feeling like shit and looking normal can be so very frustrating sometimes. People expect me to be able to continue saving the world like I do, and then when I a) forget the special cookies for daycare or b) have to take a nap instead of playing with my kids or c) just plain old do not feel up to dealing with the public at work or, honestly, even my own family, well, then I just feel guilty. I do not allow myself to say to anyone "I am having a major fibromyalgia flare and I will not be able to lead small group this week at church." I do not take sick days from work. I do not really slow down that much until I get home and then I will often crash. Dishes and dirty clothes pile up around me. The dog lays down next to me gratefully because too much motion makes her nervous and here is finally someone who will sit still with her for a bit.
Tonight I am at work typing through the pain of majorly aching fingers and hands. I think of the pain meter they ask you about at the dr. "How much pain are you in on a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the most pain?" Uh, well, I've had two babies pass through my body, so that was 10... so I guess this is a 7?? Every pain I have now is colored by that ultimate pain of childbirth. I'm not sure if this helps my cause or not. Maybe the finger pain is really a 9. I can say that in the realm of finger pain that I have endured in the past, today is worse than I've ever had. But my fingers aren't swollen. You can't tell that my fingers hurt if you just look at them. Thumbs to pinkies ache like an old arthritic woman. Wrists and hands and arms, too.
And then there are my hips. Ah, the old hips. When I was prego with Nate, my hips hurt so much that Maia started saying that her hips were hurting. Maybe they were, who knows. But I have to say that at age 33, it really sucks to not be able to walk a fast mile like I used to for exercise. I can walk 15 minutes now at a medium pace, maybe 25 minutes on a good day, before my hips will start hurting. On a bad day, however, they hurt all of the time regardless of whether or not I am sitting, standing, or walking. That being today, I find myself shifting around frequently at work to try to "shake out" the pain a bit. I have started noticing that I walk like my mother. She was born breach with genetic hip dysplasia and got two, new bionic hips 2 years ago. But I wasn't born breach. Mine is just fibromyalgia. Just...
I know that I need to see the chiropractor when I start to feel this way, and I may have to try for a lunch-hour appointment on Friday. Typically that will help my whole body feel better for a while. But what I am most concerned about right now is the abdominal pain that only subsides for a few days and then comes back with a vengeance. It has turned into a burning, spreading pain now and I know that if I go to the dr they will want to do more tests. I already owe the hospital over $1000 right now, and I don't want to waste time and money to undergo more tests that will come back saying that I look normal. I know that I look normal. I always look normal, even on the inside. (Well, almost always.) I have seen the MRI scans of my own brain. Normal!! Well, I'll be! Tell me it's normal while I'm having a seizure, then, if it's so normal. And when they DID find things wrong with me, the ovarian cyst and kidney stones, those were also maybe not the source of my actual pain. Suffice it so say, I don't believe much of what they tell me anymore after I have tests done.
Unfortunately, the people who bear the brunt of my whining and complaining are those closest to me, and to them I want to apologize for any complaining and carrying on I do about my pain and discomfort and exhaustion. To the rest of the world, I try to put on a happy face. When I have a migraine I usually take some meds and stick it out at work. Back and neck pain waits weeks sometimes until I can see the chiropractor without having to alter my work schedule. On days like today, however, it is almost impossible. I am trying to ride out the evening at work without totally snapping on the creepy guy who thinks he needs kids books (who has been told before not to come upstairs unless his kids are with him because he is clearly stalking me....) And then I will go home and collapse. And my kids will need me and Shad will still be painting the bedroom and nobody will be ready for bed yet at 8:30. I will just want to close my eyes, lay on the bed and let the fan blow cool air on my skin. My normal, albeit pale, skin that doesn't look sick in any way, that doesn't bely the pain that festers beneath it.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Pebbles Huddlestone's Hurry Up And Wait Diary '09
How sad is it that I haven't blogged one time yet in 2009? What is up with that?
Well, lots of things are up with that, namely root canals, kidney stones, ovarian cysts and other painful things like trying to sell our house (so far, I think that is the most painful of them all, so much do I hate moving). Yes, 2008 ended with me chewing all of my holiday goodies on the right side of my mouth because I hadn't yet made it to the endodontist (scared and then also too much ice on the road the day of my first appointment) for the dreaded root canal to fix my bad tooh on the left side of my mouth. So, January 12th, my mommy took me to Decatur for my very first root canal. It was nice of my mother to drive me. And the procedure itself was actually not that bad. Really. It wasn't any worse than getting an extended filling. And it didn't hurt afterwards. Until the next day.
And then it hurt for three weeks. All of the time. And I couldn't chew on the left side of my mouth still. I took constant ibuprofen and listened to my mother warn me that I would ruin my stomach. The dentist in town gave me an antibiotic in case I had an infection. It still hurt. I finally went in to have the tooth filed down and prepped for a crown and that seemed to fix it but the three weeks in between sucked. Evidently I grind my teeth at night and that had aggrivated it. Nice. I cause my own pain and misery while I sleep.
Enter pelvic pain. Yes, whilst I was enduring the tooth pain, I started to have pretty sharp pain in my ovary area. My right ovary. After a few weeks of this, I couldn't sleep for three nights and decided I better see the doctor. That was the first week of February. Two days later I had a CT scan of my entire abdomen for which I had to drink 40 ounces of water AND be injected with dye. I peed four times while waiting for them to call me for the test. I almost peed on the table during the test. I thought I might die from the pain of having to pee so badly (or at least of embarrassment when I peed everywhere). Leave it to me to have pain during a CT scan which is a relatively painless procedure.
It took 6 days for the doctor to call me with the results of the scan:
"Laura, you have 4 kidney stones and a large ovarian cyst."
"Ok, well, that's why I feel like crap then, huh."
I went back to the doctor the next day. She was unconcerned with the stones, which were in my left kidney. Said they were small and I would pass them without noticing. She said that the cyst (on my left ovary, even though the pain was on my right side) was 5cm, big enough to need to be removed, and they called the ob/gyn for me to try to get me in soon.
It was a week before I could get in. Nevermind that I was in pain. And even then I had to visit my ob/gyn in her Savoy office instead of her Charleston office. You know, Charleston which is 10 minutes from my house as opposed to Savoy which is 45 minutes from my house. But whatever. My mommy took me.
While I was there they did the regular yearly exam and took blood to check for the ovarian cancer marker. The ob/gyn examined me to find.... Nothing. She did not think that I could have a 5cm ovarian cyst. She said that she would be able to feel it if I did have one and she couldn't feel it. Plan of action: ultrasound in 4 weeks to check on the girls. Come with a full bladder. Awesome.
In the meantime... we put our house on the market and it started showing immediately. It showed more than 10 times in 2 1/2 weeks. We were exhausted from getting the house ready and exhausted from keeping it tidy. (They say that if you do something for 3 weeks it will become a habit. Does that mean that I will make my bed from now on and swiffer the floors every day? I doubt it.) Also in the meantime, while the pelvic pain had dissipated some, I had started to have back pain. Sometimes sharp, shooting pain and sometimes crampy, achey pain. On both sides. The pain was directly where my kidneys are. Kidneys that are harboring stones, or at least one of them was.
I did get a letter in the mail that the test for the ovarian cancer marker was negative, so that made me feel better. But then I got a call from the ob/gyn office to say that my pap came back abnormal. And they were sending the sample out to check for how bad it was. What? Well, a pap smear only checks for one thing: HPV which causes cervical cancer. And HPV is an STD. WTH? Yeah. And they would call me in a WEEK to tell me what was going on. (Ok, I will spare you the details here, but suffice it say I was sufficiently freaked out and we had some heated discussions at home that mostly ended in us not talking to each other much for a few days.)
Well, two days ago, just shy of 3 weeks on the market, our house got an offer from a woman who is buying with cash. My mother-in-law, our realtor, calls her a Cash Buyer. This is supposed to be a really good thing because it means that she will not need to get a loan and we don't have to worry about trouble on that end of the sale. This lady looked at our house 3 times last week and never with a lot of notice, either, but we managed to get the dog out and get the kids out and all of that so that the Cash Buyer could keep looking the house over. After her viewing on Saturday, we were told that she really liked it and wanted to see the utilities reports. That's a good sign that you're going to get an offer. And we waited and waited, and then finally on Monday the call came in. She had offered lower than we were hoping but it was CASH and also she only wanted a partial inspection. Her offer was non-negotiable.
Fine. We accepted the offer and said that we would not be fixing anything for her in the house due to the low offer but we would take it. And we all signed on it. That was Monday. And we made an offer on the house we have been waiting to offer on for a month now. And it was accepted. Great.
Yesterday, Tuesday, Shad was home with Maia (who developed a lovely stomach flu onMonday night, of course). He received no fewer than 7 calls from his mother, the realtor, about the inspection. The Cash Buyer first decided that she didn't want any inspection at all. Weird, but ok. Later in the day she wanted not only an inspection, but a full inspection, which was contrary to the paper that we all signed detailing her offer and her wish for a partial inspection only. But if we didn't go ahead and grant her the full inspection then it would look like we have something to hide, which we don't have. So, we were forced to allow the full inspection. Well, she wanted it today, Wednesday. Fine. Whatever. And now we are still waiting tonight to hear how the inspection went and with every passing minute my stomach feels sicker and sicker that this strange, wishy-washy woman is going to find some reason to not buy our house.
But I've had other things to occupy my mind like...
The pap results. Which came back negative for HPV. They called me yesterday, one week to the day, as promised. It had been a false positive. Big relief and WHY did that have to happen in the middle of all this? I apologized to my husband for accusing him of giving me a disease. Not that I really blamed him, but I still accused him, you know?
Today, one month after my first dr. appt. and CT scan, I went back to the doctor for the stones. I have been drinking liters of water and cranberry juice, visiting the girls room more than I wish to in an effort to float the suckers out in some kind of tidal wave, but I still have pain in my kidneys. The stones have not passed. The doctor said I should see the urologist. They called for me to try to get me in soon. Sound familiar?
The urologist's office said to come RIGHT AWAY. As in, right that minute. Come now to our office and see our doctor, poor dear girl who is in pain and needs a professional opinion quickly. I went. I peed in the cup. I wore the paper tablecloth. I saw my kidneys (and all of my other organs) on a Dell flat screen where my CT scan from one month ago was detailed in excellent black and white, slices of my kidneys displayed to reveal, AH HA, stones in both kidneys.
And the doctor said:
"I'm not convinced that your pain is from your kidney stones."
WTH? I have pain in my kidneys, and there are stones in them. Why would the pain NOT be from the kidney stones? He says that the location of the stones are not painful spots. Well, right, and when I had the CT scan done a month ago they DIDN'T HURT YET. But now they do. Quite a bit, actually. So, he said he will do lithotripsy on them to crush them into powder so they will pass. But he doesn't know that it will end my pain. He gave me a prescription for Vicodin.
I am confused. But the longer I sit here today and think about it and the more my back hurts, the more I think that I will call and schedule the lithotripsy. Of course, like it's the rocko-planes at the county fair, they only have the super high-tech travelling lithotripsy machine at our country bumpkin hospital every other week. So, I'll have to wait because it was just here this Monday.
And that has been the saga of my first 9 weeks of 2009. I was hoping that by the time I finished this writing that I could end it with news that the inspection of our house went well and that we will be moving in a few weeks. (Did I mention that the Cash Buyer also wants to close in 3 weeks and we said ok because we had to? THREE WEEKS! Well, the bank isn't sure they can have it all ready in 3 weeks, but we'll see.) Alas, as of almost 7pm, we have no word on the inspection.
And I am still waiting...
Well, lots of things are up with that, namely root canals, kidney stones, ovarian cysts and other painful things like trying to sell our house (so far, I think that is the most painful of them all, so much do I hate moving). Yes, 2008 ended with me chewing all of my holiday goodies on the right side of my mouth because I hadn't yet made it to the endodontist (scared and then also too much ice on the road the day of my first appointment) for the dreaded root canal to fix my bad tooh on the left side of my mouth. So, January 12th, my mommy took me to Decatur for my very first root canal. It was nice of my mother to drive me. And the procedure itself was actually not that bad. Really. It wasn't any worse than getting an extended filling. And it didn't hurt afterwards. Until the next day.
And then it hurt for three weeks. All of the time. And I couldn't chew on the left side of my mouth still. I took constant ibuprofen and listened to my mother warn me that I would ruin my stomach. The dentist in town gave me an antibiotic in case I had an infection. It still hurt. I finally went in to have the tooth filed down and prepped for a crown and that seemed to fix it but the three weeks in between sucked. Evidently I grind my teeth at night and that had aggrivated it. Nice. I cause my own pain and misery while I sleep.
Enter pelvic pain. Yes, whilst I was enduring the tooth pain, I started to have pretty sharp pain in my ovary area. My right ovary. After a few weeks of this, I couldn't sleep for three nights and decided I better see the doctor. That was the first week of February. Two days later I had a CT scan of my entire abdomen for which I had to drink 40 ounces of water AND be injected with dye. I peed four times while waiting for them to call me for the test. I almost peed on the table during the test. I thought I might die from the pain of having to pee so badly (or at least of embarrassment when I peed everywhere). Leave it to me to have pain during a CT scan which is a relatively painless procedure.
It took 6 days for the doctor to call me with the results of the scan:
"Laura, you have 4 kidney stones and a large ovarian cyst."
"Ok, well, that's why I feel like crap then, huh."
I went back to the doctor the next day. She was unconcerned with the stones, which were in my left kidney. Said they were small and I would pass them without noticing. She said that the cyst (on my left ovary, even though the pain was on my right side) was 5cm, big enough to need to be removed, and they called the ob/gyn for me to try to get me in soon.
It was a week before I could get in. Nevermind that I was in pain. And even then I had to visit my ob/gyn in her Savoy office instead of her Charleston office. You know, Charleston which is 10 minutes from my house as opposed to Savoy which is 45 minutes from my house. But whatever. My mommy took me.
While I was there they did the regular yearly exam and took blood to check for the ovarian cancer marker. The ob/gyn examined me to find.... Nothing. She did not think that I could have a 5cm ovarian cyst. She said that she would be able to feel it if I did have one and she couldn't feel it. Plan of action: ultrasound in 4 weeks to check on the girls. Come with a full bladder. Awesome.
In the meantime... we put our house on the market and it started showing immediately. It showed more than 10 times in 2 1/2 weeks. We were exhausted from getting the house ready and exhausted from keeping it tidy. (They say that if you do something for 3 weeks it will become a habit. Does that mean that I will make my bed from now on and swiffer the floors every day? I doubt it.) Also in the meantime, while the pelvic pain had dissipated some, I had started to have back pain. Sometimes sharp, shooting pain and sometimes crampy, achey pain. On both sides. The pain was directly where my kidneys are. Kidneys that are harboring stones, or at least one of them was.
I did get a letter in the mail that the test for the ovarian cancer marker was negative, so that made me feel better. But then I got a call from the ob/gyn office to say that my pap came back abnormal. And they were sending the sample out to check for how bad it was. What? Well, a pap smear only checks for one thing: HPV which causes cervical cancer. And HPV is an STD. WTH? Yeah. And they would call me in a WEEK to tell me what was going on. (Ok, I will spare you the details here, but suffice it say I was sufficiently freaked out and we had some heated discussions at home that mostly ended in us not talking to each other much for a few days.)
Well, two days ago, just shy of 3 weeks on the market, our house got an offer from a woman who is buying with cash. My mother-in-law, our realtor, calls her a Cash Buyer. This is supposed to be a really good thing because it means that she will not need to get a loan and we don't have to worry about trouble on that end of the sale. This lady looked at our house 3 times last week and never with a lot of notice, either, but we managed to get the dog out and get the kids out and all of that so that the Cash Buyer could keep looking the house over. After her viewing on Saturday, we were told that she really liked it and wanted to see the utilities reports. That's a good sign that you're going to get an offer. And we waited and waited, and then finally on Monday the call came in. She had offered lower than we were hoping but it was CASH and also she only wanted a partial inspection. Her offer was non-negotiable.
Fine. We accepted the offer and said that we would not be fixing anything for her in the house due to the low offer but we would take it. And we all signed on it. That was Monday. And we made an offer on the house we have been waiting to offer on for a month now. And it was accepted. Great.
Yesterday, Tuesday, Shad was home with Maia (who developed a lovely stomach flu onMonday night, of course). He received no fewer than 7 calls from his mother, the realtor, about the inspection. The Cash Buyer first decided that she didn't want any inspection at all. Weird, but ok. Later in the day she wanted not only an inspection, but a full inspection, which was contrary to the paper that we all signed detailing her offer and her wish for a partial inspection only. But if we didn't go ahead and grant her the full inspection then it would look like we have something to hide, which we don't have. So, we were forced to allow the full inspection. Well, she wanted it today, Wednesday. Fine. Whatever. And now we are still waiting tonight to hear how the inspection went and with every passing minute my stomach feels sicker and sicker that this strange, wishy-washy woman is going to find some reason to not buy our house.
But I've had other things to occupy my mind like...
The pap results. Which came back negative for HPV. They called me yesterday, one week to the day, as promised. It had been a false positive. Big relief and WHY did that have to happen in the middle of all this? I apologized to my husband for accusing him of giving me a disease. Not that I really blamed him, but I still accused him, you know?
Today, one month after my first dr. appt. and CT scan, I went back to the doctor for the stones. I have been drinking liters of water and cranberry juice, visiting the girls room more than I wish to in an effort to float the suckers out in some kind of tidal wave, but I still have pain in my kidneys. The stones have not passed. The doctor said I should see the urologist. They called for me to try to get me in soon. Sound familiar?
The urologist's office said to come RIGHT AWAY. As in, right that minute. Come now to our office and see our doctor, poor dear girl who is in pain and needs a professional opinion quickly. I went. I peed in the cup. I wore the paper tablecloth. I saw my kidneys (and all of my other organs) on a Dell flat screen where my CT scan from one month ago was detailed in excellent black and white, slices of my kidneys displayed to reveal, AH HA, stones in both kidneys.
And the doctor said:
"I'm not convinced that your pain is from your kidney stones."
WTH? I have pain in my kidneys, and there are stones in them. Why would the pain NOT be from the kidney stones? He says that the location of the stones are not painful spots. Well, right, and when I had the CT scan done a month ago they DIDN'T HURT YET. But now they do. Quite a bit, actually. So, he said he will do lithotripsy on them to crush them into powder so they will pass. But he doesn't know that it will end my pain. He gave me a prescription for Vicodin.
I am confused. But the longer I sit here today and think about it and the more my back hurts, the more I think that I will call and schedule the lithotripsy. Of course, like it's the rocko-planes at the county fair, they only have the super high-tech travelling lithotripsy machine at our country bumpkin hospital every other week. So, I'll have to wait because it was just here this Monday.
And that has been the saga of my first 9 weeks of 2009. I was hoping that by the time I finished this writing that I could end it with news that the inspection of our house went well and that we will be moving in a few weeks. (Did I mention that the Cash Buyer also wants to close in 3 weeks and we said ok because we had to? THREE WEEKS! Well, the bank isn't sure they can have it all ready in 3 weeks, but we'll see.) Alas, as of almost 7pm, we have no word on the inspection.
And I am still waiting...
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Really Puttin' the PUBLIC in Public Library
So, I've worked with the public a lot in my life. Most of my jobs have dealt directly with the public. Well, make that ALL of my jobs. The only job I've had, actually, that didn't put me face to face with the public was when I talked to them on the phone at Pearson. Always, the public. And not necessarily the educated or good-smelling public. Nor the polite public.
Children's Librarian sounds like a pretty low-key, easy job, don't you think? Read to some kids, shelve some books, order some books. Make some fliers, orgainze reading contests, hand out prizes. Book performers, budget and plan for all of summer reading, hand out more prizes. Kick idiot teenagers out of the computer lab for being too loud and rude. Clean profanity off of the windows. Tell old, crusty (and young, crusty) guys that no, they can't watch porn on the library computers and now they also can't come back because we've blocked their account. Bust robberies in the parking lot (no kidding, did this last year.) Answer the phone.
Wait, answer the phone? Oh, yeah, that's right, I'm also the freaking receptionist for the entire library. Because I'm not busy doing anything else upstairs at the library. So I get to answer the phone. A lot. I share this task with one colleague and together we answer the phone all day every day for the entire library. People call asking lots of different things. They want to renew their books. They want to order books and materials through the inter-library loan system. They want to know "what is that one book about dogs by that one guy but I don't know what it's called". They want to ask what the phone number is to the Post Office. They want to know how to file their taxes. They want to know if A Girl Named Lisa is in the computer lab, (and no she's not because we don't take calls for other people, in case you wondered). They want to know if we have an extra book drop to donate to the high school drug-free coalition for their Such and Such Project. (WTH? an EXTRA BOOK DROP?) Real call I took two weeks ago.
As a source of information for the community, I know we can expect some of these calls. But, I have to say that day after day it gets really freaking old. Is this why I got STRAIGHT A's in COLLEGE?? (If you sense bitterness there, you're spot on.) And I think I can speak for my colleague, Derrol, when I say that we both detest the calls that come in as such:
"Mattoon Public Library. This is Laura."
"Uh, you just called me."
"I'm sorry?"
"Someone from there just called me."
"Did you request a book from the library?" (we do call dozens of people every day to say that their materials from other libraries are in and we leave messages...)
"No."
"Well, then I don't know who called you."
"You don't have to be rude about it. Someone from this number called me."
"I'm sorry, but I have no way of knowing who picked up the phone when we weren't looking and used it to call you. But we don't take calls for patrons."
And, yeah, I probably sounded rude. And that hurt a little that she said I was rude, but after answering this particular call at least twice a week for 3 1/2 years, I'm tired of it. We only allow people to make calls for emergencies, but what constitutes an emergency varies from one staff member to the next and I know that people use the phone downstairs without asking sometimes.
So, we get our fair share of Stupid even over the phone, as if enough doesn't walk through the doors every day. Balance Stupid with Needy and you've got yourself a full time phone answerin' gig. These are the callers who call EVERY DAY. That's right, the same people call the library every single day, and we know their voices like we know our loved ones'. One lady, we'll call her "Bonnie", calls several times a day and fills us in on her aches and pains, her woes, her physical therapy, her knew haircolor (caramel) and also tells us she loves us after we've taken her request for audiobooks (she's listened to them all by now) and dvd's (mainly horror movies but lately some documentaries on Ancient Greece and the philosophers, as well). I have a soft spot in my heart for Bonnie because she is a Def Leppard fan. She's only in her 60's but some disabilities have left her unable to live on her own or get out and about. Lord help me if that happens to me and I have to call the library for company. But at least if I do, karma's on my side, cause I've spent hours of accumulated time on calls talking to Bonnie. I'm never sorry to hear her gravelly voice on the line.
Then there are the people whose voices you know the minute you pick up the phone but who you aren't so glad to talk to. The lady who regularly calls on her cell phone from Wal-Mart to request an endless list of paperback crap that she's too cheap to buy even from Wal-Mart. The former hippie who had one bad LSD trip too many who calls to renew his stuff, request books on very random stuff from manicuring nails to how to get an office job, and ruminates about his depression with us. The stinky guy who was stalking Derrol for a while with his computer malfunction issues and always wants a different Star Trek or Henry Fonda movie. The tween who can't find her library books to save her life and who calls for her whole family to renew everything on each of their cards every other week.
And this brings me to the MPL Prize for Most Hated Caller Award: GNC Psycho. It was about 2 years ago now. This guy with an incredibly distinctive voice started calling regularly and asking very, very random questions. "Could you find out who the lieutenant governor of Minnesota is? And what is her phone number?" "Can you get me the mailing address for the Comptroller of the state of OH?" And the best one "Can you get me the phone number for the GNC at the Such and Such mall in Someplace, AZ?"
No kidding. And during one of the first calls that he made to us, I must have been feeling extra jovial because he mentioned something about birthdays and then he asked when mine was and I foolishly said "In February". Well, guess who called back several months later in February? Yeah, and he said "Hello, Laura (and you'd just have to hear me do the voice impression in person to get the creepiness factor, but think The Joker mixed with, um, The Joker, I guess), Happy Birthday this month."
Yeah, so since the library cannot afford to upgrade to caller ID (figure that one out), we had to call the police and have a trace put on our calls but only AFTER he called. We finally figured out that Mr. GNC Psycho was calling from a local nursing home. We called them and they knew who he was immediately and took away his phone priveleges. No more creepy calls.
Creepy visits abound, though. There's one right now as I'm typing this and I've just about had it with this guy. He actually said "I've been coming up here to see you a lot" just a few minutes ago. I was like "uh huh" but this isn't the kind of guy who gets it when you give him the cold shoulder. I've beem giving him the freeze for years and he knows that I'm married and he's still super creepy. The staff unanimously thinks he's creepy, too, so I know it's not just me. He sent the staff flowers for Halloween and then came upstairs to make sure that I knew that they were really for me because I'm his "friend". (Don't tell my husband.) Yeah, that creepy.
I'll save the rest for later. Installment Two just might be about how homeless people now have laptops. Stay tuned.
Children's Librarian sounds like a pretty low-key, easy job, don't you think? Read to some kids, shelve some books, order some books. Make some fliers, orgainze reading contests, hand out prizes. Book performers, budget and plan for all of summer reading, hand out more prizes. Kick idiot teenagers out of the computer lab for being too loud and rude. Clean profanity off of the windows. Tell old, crusty (and young, crusty) guys that no, they can't watch porn on the library computers and now they also can't come back because we've blocked their account. Bust robberies in the parking lot (no kidding, did this last year.) Answer the phone.
Wait, answer the phone? Oh, yeah, that's right, I'm also the freaking receptionist for the entire library. Because I'm not busy doing anything else upstairs at the library. So I get to answer the phone. A lot. I share this task with one colleague and together we answer the phone all day every day for the entire library. People call asking lots of different things. They want to renew their books. They want to order books and materials through the inter-library loan system. They want to know "what is that one book about dogs by that one guy but I don't know what it's called". They want to ask what the phone number is to the Post Office. They want to know how to file their taxes. They want to know if A Girl Named Lisa is in the computer lab, (and no she's not because we don't take calls for other people, in case you wondered). They want to know if we have an extra book drop to donate to the high school drug-free coalition for their Such and Such Project. (WTH? an EXTRA BOOK DROP?) Real call I took two weeks ago.
As a source of information for the community, I know we can expect some of these calls. But, I have to say that day after day it gets really freaking old. Is this why I got STRAIGHT A's in COLLEGE?? (If you sense bitterness there, you're spot on.) And I think I can speak for my colleague, Derrol, when I say that we both detest the calls that come in as such:
"Mattoon Public Library. This is Laura."
"Uh, you just called me."
"I'm sorry?"
"Someone from there just called me."
"Did you request a book from the library?" (we do call dozens of people every day to say that their materials from other libraries are in and we leave messages...)
"No."
"Well, then I don't know who called you."
"You don't have to be rude about it. Someone from this number called me."
"I'm sorry, but I have no way of knowing who picked up the phone when we weren't looking and used it to call you. But we don't take calls for patrons."
And, yeah, I probably sounded rude. And that hurt a little that she said I was rude, but after answering this particular call at least twice a week for 3 1/2 years, I'm tired of it. We only allow people to make calls for emergencies, but what constitutes an emergency varies from one staff member to the next and I know that people use the phone downstairs without asking sometimes.
So, we get our fair share of Stupid even over the phone, as if enough doesn't walk through the doors every day. Balance Stupid with Needy and you've got yourself a full time phone answerin' gig. These are the callers who call EVERY DAY. That's right, the same people call the library every single day, and we know their voices like we know our loved ones'. One lady, we'll call her "Bonnie", calls several times a day and fills us in on her aches and pains, her woes, her physical therapy, her knew haircolor (caramel) and also tells us she loves us after we've taken her request for audiobooks (she's listened to them all by now) and dvd's (mainly horror movies but lately some documentaries on Ancient Greece and the philosophers, as well). I have a soft spot in my heart for Bonnie because she is a Def Leppard fan. She's only in her 60's but some disabilities have left her unable to live on her own or get out and about. Lord help me if that happens to me and I have to call the library for company. But at least if I do, karma's on my side, cause I've spent hours of accumulated time on calls talking to Bonnie. I'm never sorry to hear her gravelly voice on the line.
Then there are the people whose voices you know the minute you pick up the phone but who you aren't so glad to talk to. The lady who regularly calls on her cell phone from Wal-Mart to request an endless list of paperback crap that she's too cheap to buy even from Wal-Mart. The former hippie who had one bad LSD trip too many who calls to renew his stuff, request books on very random stuff from manicuring nails to how to get an office job, and ruminates about his depression with us. The stinky guy who was stalking Derrol for a while with his computer malfunction issues and always wants a different Star Trek or Henry Fonda movie. The tween who can't find her library books to save her life and who calls for her whole family to renew everything on each of their cards every other week.
And this brings me to the MPL Prize for Most Hated Caller Award: GNC Psycho. It was about 2 years ago now. This guy with an incredibly distinctive voice started calling regularly and asking very, very random questions. "Could you find out who the lieutenant governor of Minnesota is? And what is her phone number?" "Can you get me the mailing address for the Comptroller of the state of OH?" And the best one "Can you get me the phone number for the GNC at the Such and Such mall in Someplace, AZ?"
No kidding. And during one of the first calls that he made to us, I must have been feeling extra jovial because he mentioned something about birthdays and then he asked when mine was and I foolishly said "In February". Well, guess who called back several months later in February? Yeah, and he said "Hello, Laura (and you'd just have to hear me do the voice impression in person to get the creepiness factor, but think The Joker mixed with, um, The Joker, I guess), Happy Birthday this month."
Yeah, so since the library cannot afford to upgrade to caller ID (figure that one out), we had to call the police and have a trace put on our calls but only AFTER he called. We finally figured out that Mr. GNC Psycho was calling from a local nursing home. We called them and they knew who he was immediately and took away his phone priveleges. No more creepy calls.
Creepy visits abound, though. There's one right now as I'm typing this and I've just about had it with this guy. He actually said "I've been coming up here to see you a lot" just a few minutes ago. I was like "uh huh" but this isn't the kind of guy who gets it when you give him the cold shoulder. I've beem giving him the freeze for years and he knows that I'm married and he's still super creepy. The staff unanimously thinks he's creepy, too, so I know it's not just me. He sent the staff flowers for Halloween and then came upstairs to make sure that I knew that they were really for me because I'm his "friend". (Don't tell my husband.) Yeah, that creepy.
I'll save the rest for later. Installment Two just might be about how homeless people now have laptops. Stay tuned.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Life's Little Events
My baby girl is going to be eight next week. It seems impossible. I look back at her newborn baby pictures and I honestly feel like it was a different lifetime, like those youngsters holding that teeny tiny baby are not me and my husband but different people altogether. Those people didn't know anything about babies, let alone babies with reflux, or toddlers who throw hour long tantrums or kids who refuse to brush their teeth. In short, we had no idea what we were getting into. But who does? Who can prepare you for this journey of infinite joy and snot?
Yesterday, Maia had two "eeking towards tweenage" events: 1) she lost her 2nd front tooth and 2) she received her very first sleepover invitation.
Let's start with Life's Little Event #1. She lost her 2nd front tooth during school yesterday. Unbeknownst to us, she put her tooth in her tooth fairy box and left it in the hallway (so that the Tooth Fairy doesn't scare her by coming into her room). We totally forgot about the Tooth Tairy deal until I saw the box sitting in the hallway this morning. She was already up and in the kitchen waiting for Shad to cut her some watermelon for breakfast. Somehow, I got his attention as he passed through the living room and he said "Go cut her watermelon and make it slow...". Okay.....
So, I lumbered around for just the right knife and I labored over cutting the watermelon just so. Still, as I got her a plate for the giant watermelon slice, she very animatedly perked up and said "I forgot to check for my tooth money!"
"OH! Well, here's your watermelon," I offered in a much more spritely tone than typical in an attempt to entice her to stay in the kitchen, but what kid isn't going to go racing to see if she got $ from the tooth fairy? "OK, go CHECK FOR YOUR MONEY" I half-yell towards the back of the house so that Shad will know she is coming. I have no idea if he's found money yet...
She comes back to the kitchen with a $5 bill. Good save by Daddy, and that's some generous Tooth Fairy! (It was all he had...).
Which brings me to our #2 Little Life Event from yesterday, the sleepover invite. Maia is typically ok with spending the night with her grandparents. She has done this so often since she was little that she does alright with not being scared. However, she has never.... NEVER... spent the night at a friend's house. So, now she is invited to a sleepover. And the invite states that any girl who wants to leave at 8:30pm instead of spending the night is welcome to do that. I figured that might appeal to Maia, but she is set on spending the night. It is this Friday. So, we'll see how that goes.
Shad was surprised, as well, that Maia wants to try this. It is a family that we know well, so we are fine with her trying to spend the night if that is what she wants to do. He was talking to her about it when a surprise (yes, Surprise!) #3 Little Life Event got thrown into the mix:
Shad: "Well, I guess if you want to stay then maybe we should find somewhere for Nate to stay overnight too. Then Mommy and Daddy can have a date."
Maia: "You just want to have a date so that you and Mommy can be alone to kiss and have sex."
WWWWHHHHHAAAATTTTT?????!!!!! Shad nearly ran the car off of the road. Did she really just say that??? WTH???? For the love of all that is sacred, what on earth do you say to your almost 8 year old when they so brashly accuse you of wanting to have sex with their mother?
What does this mean? Am I supposed to have The Sex Talk with her now? Do I need to inform her? How do you tell an 8 year old about sex when they still believe in the Tooth Fairy!!!!!!!
I need help here. I don't know what to do. I honestly do not know what to say to her. I wasn't there when it was said... but it sure sounds to me like she has a pretty good idea about It. And I know not to make the mistake of thinking that she can't possibly know more than we think she does... she ALWAYS knows more about EVERYTHING than we think she could possibly know. And I don't need her being the kid on the playground talking about how her parents have sex everytime they have a date (as if). Is that what she thinks we do on a date?? I see that she has the kissing thing and the alone thing down... I guess I need to talk to her and see what she does know so that I can figure out where to go from there.
But I don't want to. I'm not ready for this particular Little Life Event. I mean, can't we have the "Santa isn't real" talk first??? "Mom and Dad are the Tooth Fairy"...... that even sounds terrible. I can't deal with the dichotomy of (im)maturity in this child!! Nobody prepared me for this!
So... any advice??
Yesterday, Maia had two "eeking towards tweenage" events: 1) she lost her 2nd front tooth and 2) she received her very first sleepover invitation.
Let's start with Life's Little Event #1. She lost her 2nd front tooth during school yesterday. Unbeknownst to us, she put her tooth in her tooth fairy box and left it in the hallway (so that the Tooth Fairy doesn't scare her by coming into her room). We totally forgot about the Tooth Tairy deal until I saw the box sitting in the hallway this morning. She was already up and in the kitchen waiting for Shad to cut her some watermelon for breakfast. Somehow, I got his attention as he passed through the living room and he said "Go cut her watermelon and make it slow...". Okay.....
So, I lumbered around for just the right knife and I labored over cutting the watermelon just so. Still, as I got her a plate for the giant watermelon slice, she very animatedly perked up and said "I forgot to check for my tooth money!"
"OH! Well, here's your watermelon," I offered in a much more spritely tone than typical in an attempt to entice her to stay in the kitchen, but what kid isn't going to go racing to see if she got $ from the tooth fairy? "OK, go CHECK FOR YOUR MONEY" I half-yell towards the back of the house so that Shad will know she is coming. I have no idea if he's found money yet...
She comes back to the kitchen with a $5 bill. Good save by Daddy, and that's some generous Tooth Fairy! (It was all he had...).
Which brings me to our #2 Little Life Event from yesterday, the sleepover invite. Maia is typically ok with spending the night with her grandparents. She has done this so often since she was little that she does alright with not being scared. However, she has never.... NEVER... spent the night at a friend's house. So, now she is invited to a sleepover. And the invite states that any girl who wants to leave at 8:30pm instead of spending the night is welcome to do that. I figured that might appeal to Maia, but she is set on spending the night. It is this Friday. So, we'll see how that goes.
Shad was surprised, as well, that Maia wants to try this. It is a family that we know well, so we are fine with her trying to spend the night if that is what she wants to do. He was talking to her about it when a surprise (yes, Surprise!) #3 Little Life Event got thrown into the mix:
Shad: "Well, I guess if you want to stay then maybe we should find somewhere for Nate to stay overnight too. Then Mommy and Daddy can have a date."
Maia: "You just want to have a date so that you and Mommy can be alone to kiss and have sex."
WWWWHHHHHAAAATTTTT?????!!!!! Shad nearly ran the car off of the road. Did she really just say that??? WTH???? For the love of all that is sacred, what on earth do you say to your almost 8 year old when they so brashly accuse you of wanting to have sex with their mother?
What does this mean? Am I supposed to have The Sex Talk with her now? Do I need to inform her? How do you tell an 8 year old about sex when they still believe in the Tooth Fairy!!!!!!!
I need help here. I don't know what to do. I honestly do not know what to say to her. I wasn't there when it was said... but it sure sounds to me like she has a pretty good idea about It. And I know not to make the mistake of thinking that she can't possibly know more than we think she does... she ALWAYS knows more about EVERYTHING than we think she could possibly know. And I don't need her being the kid on the playground talking about how her parents have sex everytime they have a date (as if). Is that what she thinks we do on a date?? I see that she has the kissing thing and the alone thing down... I guess I need to talk to her and see what she does know so that I can figure out where to go from there.
But I don't want to. I'm not ready for this particular Little Life Event. I mean, can't we have the "Santa isn't real" talk first??? "Mom and Dad are the Tooth Fairy"...... that even sounds terrible. I can't deal with the dichotomy of (im)maturity in this child!! Nobody prepared me for this!
So... any advice??
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Going Bananas
Those of us with children in preschool and the early elementary grades know that every new school year these days comes with a new behavior system in place to help our child's teacher manage the classroom (and, conversely, to help our children control their behavior). Every room is a little bit different, but they all have a similar system of warnings that follow a predictible pattern. Sometimes this comes in the form of the ever popular "stoplight" model where students remain on "green light" (or green ticket or whatever) until they break a rule. This is actually the system that my husband uses with his first grade students, and he has found that it's the easiest for everyone to understand, parents included.
This year, Nate is in the 4 and 5-year-old preschool room at his daycare. They have a new jungle theme in his classroom (which is fitting because it seems like there are quite a few monkeys in there). There is a coconut tree outside the door and a tiger roars at you as you enter. Vines hang from the ceiling. And over on the far wall, near the circle time area, there are about 60 little, laminated paper bananas stuck to the wall. Each banana has a child's name on it. And each child has 5 bananas. Why 5 instead of 3 or 4, I'm not sure. But the idea is that when they get in trouble, the lose a banana.
For the first few weeks of school, Nate was losing a banana every day. I couldn't believe it! In the 3-year-old room, if they lost a seashell (or baseball or whatever it was for the season), they didn't get a prize from the prize box that day. And you'd think that the promise of getting a junky prize at the end of the day wouldn't keep a rowdy 3 year old in check all day, but most of the time it did. Maybe once every other week Nate would get in trouble enough to lose the prize box privilege, but not too often. And usually his infractions would happen at naptime, when he wasn't being quiet because (God's cruelest joke) Nate doesn't need a nap anymore. So, when he moved to the "big kid room", I was appalled that he was losing a banana every day.
Well, I finally got to talk to the head teacher and she reassured me that Nate was really doing fine. I guess in the new system for the 4's and 5's, they get to lose one banana and still pick out of the prize box. If they lose 2 or more, though, no prizey. And Nate had only lost 2 bananas in one day one time in the first two weeks of school. He was doing fine, she assured me. Nothing that wouldn't get ironed out as he got used to the new "sticter-getting-ready-for-kindergarten" rules. (Nate does have a tendency to talk too much when he's supposed to be quiet and interrupts the teacher because he has lots to share. )
I'm not sure how I feel about the new "lose one and still get a prize" system. Clearly, Nathanael figured this out right away and has been maximizing his ornery-time to be bad and still get a prize. But I'm not the teacher, so who am I to say...
Then, today my mom picked Nate up from school for us. And, as they were leaving, one of the helpers from his room, Miss Somebody, (NOT the head teacher), stopped my mom and Nate and explained how bad Nate had been today. He lost a banana (but I thought losing only one wasn't a big deal?), and he was too loud at naptime (is this why he lost the banana?), and he also LICKED someone. Okayyyyy. So, licking someone is weird and not alright. Not socially acceptable, obviously. But did he lose his banana for not being good at naptime or for licking someone? And if my son is continually having a problem at naptime, what are they doing to help him? Because I can tell them right now, the child doesn't need, doesn't want, isn't gonna take a nap. Not most days anyway, and the problem isn't gonna poof disappear. And you know what, we don't even want him to take a nap. When he does happen to fall asleep at naptime, the child is awake until 10:30 at night or later. He doesn't need a daytime nap. *sigh*
This is not all to say that Nate is blameless or that he is the victim of a faulty classroom behavioral system or rigid Naptime Nazi regime (although I do think that 2 hours is a bit long to make a 4 year old lay on his cot quietly!) No, I know that Nate is anything but angelic most of the time. He is active and stubborn and impulsive, and I'm sure that I don't want to be his preschool teacher!!
And when I talked to Shad about it this evening, and I reported the licking incident, what do you think Nate's Dad's first concern was? "Did he lick a girl?" If only I had the answer to that...
This year, Nate is in the 4 and 5-year-old preschool room at his daycare. They have a new jungle theme in his classroom (which is fitting because it seems like there are quite a few monkeys in there). There is a coconut tree outside the door and a tiger roars at you as you enter. Vines hang from the ceiling. And over on the far wall, near the circle time area, there are about 60 little, laminated paper bananas stuck to the wall. Each banana has a child's name on it. And each child has 5 bananas. Why 5 instead of 3 or 4, I'm not sure. But the idea is that when they get in trouble, the lose a banana.
For the first few weeks of school, Nate was losing a banana every day. I couldn't believe it! In the 3-year-old room, if they lost a seashell (or baseball or whatever it was for the season), they didn't get a prize from the prize box that day. And you'd think that the promise of getting a junky prize at the end of the day wouldn't keep a rowdy 3 year old in check all day, but most of the time it did. Maybe once every other week Nate would get in trouble enough to lose the prize box privilege, but not too often. And usually his infractions would happen at naptime, when he wasn't being quiet because (God's cruelest joke) Nate doesn't need a nap anymore. So, when he moved to the "big kid room", I was appalled that he was losing a banana every day.
Well, I finally got to talk to the head teacher and she reassured me that Nate was really doing fine. I guess in the new system for the 4's and 5's, they get to lose one banana and still pick out of the prize box. If they lose 2 or more, though, no prizey. And Nate had only lost 2 bananas in one day one time in the first two weeks of school. He was doing fine, she assured me. Nothing that wouldn't get ironed out as he got used to the new "sticter-getting-ready-for-kindergarten" rules. (Nate does have a tendency to talk too much when he's supposed to be quiet and interrupts the teacher because he has lots to share. )
I'm not sure how I feel about the new "lose one and still get a prize" system. Clearly, Nathanael figured this out right away and has been maximizing his ornery-time to be bad and still get a prize. But I'm not the teacher, so who am I to say...
Then, today my mom picked Nate up from school for us. And, as they were leaving, one of the helpers from his room, Miss Somebody, (NOT the head teacher), stopped my mom and Nate and explained how bad Nate had been today. He lost a banana (but I thought losing only one wasn't a big deal?), and he was too loud at naptime (is this why he lost the banana?), and he also LICKED someone. Okayyyyy. So, licking someone is weird and not alright. Not socially acceptable, obviously. But did he lose his banana for not being good at naptime or for licking someone? And if my son is continually having a problem at naptime, what are they doing to help him? Because I can tell them right now, the child doesn't need, doesn't want, isn't gonna take a nap. Not most days anyway, and the problem isn't gonna poof disappear. And you know what, we don't even want him to take a nap. When he does happen to fall asleep at naptime, the child is awake until 10:30 at night or later. He doesn't need a daytime nap. *sigh*
This is not all to say that Nate is blameless or that he is the victim of a faulty classroom behavioral system or rigid Naptime Nazi regime (although I do think that 2 hours is a bit long to make a 4 year old lay on his cot quietly!) No, I know that Nate is anything but angelic most of the time. He is active and stubborn and impulsive, and I'm sure that I don't want to be his preschool teacher!!
And when I talked to Shad about it this evening, and I reported the licking incident, what do you think Nate's Dad's first concern was? "Did he lick a girl?" If only I had the answer to that...
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Why Isn't There More Kahlua in My Coffee?
Wow! That was Michael Phelps Fast.
Summer vacation ends, well, pretty much NOW. School starts tomorrow and we'll all have to be up at the butt crack of dawn to get the children (and their father) out the door and off to school on time.
These are the possible obstacles I see to the new (old) routine going smoothly:
1) Maia's hair/aka rat's nest
2) Maia's inability to choose a breakfast food
3) Maia's shoes
4) Nate's refusal to dress himself or wipe his own tush
5) The Computer
6) The Neighbor's Pool
Ok, so these are the reasons why the above numbers 1-6 will likely be an issue, if not tomorrow, then by next week:
1. Maia's hair is not like my hair. My hair was always as straight as the road home. Her hair is like her paternal grandmother's hair, undulating like the sea and knotty as pine. Unless she wants to get up at 6:30 and get in the shower, we will have to find a way to tame it every day. This typically involves lots of anti-frizz cream and sometimes the straightener. It involves a wide toothed comb and sometimes crocodile tears. I was never good at hair (and any woman can tell you, you're either good at it or you're not). And just when I think Maia's hair is A-OK and cute as can be, she will pull it out of it's ponytail holder or barette concoction and deem it horrible and terrible and no-good-very-bad-hate-it-don't-want-it hair. That is when I walk out of the bathroom, leaving her screaming, and tell her to do her own hair. I'm mean like that.
2. Two years ago, at the beginning of kindergarten I started insisting that Maia choose her breakfast food at night and we would set it out (if possible) before bed. This choice was not to be deviated from in the morning and would save us at least 10 minutes of ridiculous wailing about not being able to decide on breakfast. This worked for a while. Then it stopped working. I'm sure you can see the loophole in the plan. She gets up in the morning and has a solid reason why she can't eat the chosen food then quickly and easily chooses another food and negates all efforts of the night before. Soon, we stop bothering with the nighttime choosing because maybe it will be ok to choose in the morning after all.... riiiiiggghhhhttt. After a week or so, we're right back where we started.
So, now, for 2nd grade, we're not really doing any better than we were two years ago. Last night I went grocery shopping and as I chose waffles, mini-muffin tops, Trix and bagels for our week's breakfasts, I thought to myself "WTH am I setting myself up for?? I should get ONE item--albeit two or three boxes-- and make them all eat it every day this week. Kids in other countries don't have 4 or more choices (cause there's already bread for toast and oatmeal at home!) for breakfast!!" If there is one tear over the freakin' breakfast in the next week, we are goin' on the Outer Mongolia Plan.
3. Maia has a new pair of tennis shoes for school. They are Nike. I am not proud of this. She is supposed to wear them every day so that she doesn't need gym shoes. She has agreed to this. I paid almost $40 for these shoes so that they would be cool enough to wear every day --not Payless like all of her other shoes in other words. And I know that I likely aided in the exploitation of at least 7 Chinese children in the process. Don't think this irony is lost on me. And how much do you wanna bet that one week into school she will have an outfit that "doesn't go" with these tennis shoes? I would bet my next paycheck that we will fight about her wanting to wear flip flops to school within the next 7 days.
4. Nate is starting preschool. He has been going there already for over a year but was in the "three year old room" and, thus, not technically in preschool even though he learned to right his name and all of his letters. Now he is officially moving to the preschool room and must have a folder and backpack and all of that. Something tells me that he will also still be taking his blue blankie with him, which I admit that I haven't tried to break him from because I might just love that blue blankie and all that it stands for as much as he does.
I assume that it is the anxiety over switching rooms next Monday that has him a little antsy about school. Well, maybe "antsy" isn't the right term. He is mainly saying (over and over again) "I Hate School". And then he comes up with a new ailment that he's pretty sure should keep him from having to go to school. The ailment, like today's proclaimed mouth sore, typically makes it impossible for him to change his own clothes. He has also started to scream for Mommy (why is it always me?) from the toilet and say that he can't wipe himself. I realize that a year ago I would have paid good money just to have him potty trained and would have gladly wiped his butt, but the honeymoon is over, my friends, and the kid should be wiping his own arse.
5. We've had the talk. She's knows the rules.
Maia is supposed to be completely ready for school before she gets on the computer. Even if she gets up early. Even if she knows that she will have time to get ready later. Even if it's Mom's late day and we don't have to leave as soon. She is still supposed to have her clothes and shoes on, have eaten her breakfast, have combed and fixed her hair, have brushed her teeth and have her bag and whatever else she needs ready to go by the door BEFORE GETTING ON THE COMPUTER. The latest yahoo buzz about Hannah Montana can wait.
I give it two weeks, maybe a week and a half before we start fighting about it.
6. I don't even know where to begin about the neighbor's pool. But let's start by saying that them having a pool shouldn't be affecting my amount of sleep. And yet all summer it has been forcing me to sleep in Maia's room 1/2 of the time (or more) because they are so freaking loud that it keeps us awake in our room even though we have the windows closed and the air on. Who puts a pool with lights and water jets and a stereo and a fire pit in a yard the size of a Cadillac? Who then proceeds to party until 1AM in said pool with complete disregard for sleeping neighbors?
We are so the boringest people in the neighborhood. But, hey, I often work on Saturday mornings. I should be able to go to sleep by 10 or 11 without a thumping bass or screeching kids or cackling laugher outside my window. I don't live on freaking campus! I pay a mortgage instead of rent so that I can have my privacy, thank you very much.
If they even try to do this after school has started, I will have to break the Amazing Tolerance and Neighborly Friendship Pact that has kept me from saying anything thus far. That will snap the very thin wire that we are treading on right now with the pool situation. One school night pool party will be all it takes because we are all gonna need as much sleep as we can muster at our house starting yesterday.
All of that said, I'm sure it will be a fabulous start to the school year for at least the first 4 days (oh, and soccer season, too, let's not forget that!) And can I just say that at this time of year, when the library gets really quiet... I don't miss teaching at all! :)
Summer vacation ends, well, pretty much NOW. School starts tomorrow and we'll all have to be up at the butt crack of dawn to get the children (and their father) out the door and off to school on time.
These are the possible obstacles I see to the new (old) routine going smoothly:
1) Maia's hair/aka rat's nest
2) Maia's inability to choose a breakfast food
3) Maia's shoes
4) Nate's refusal to dress himself or wipe his own tush
5) The Computer
6) The Neighbor's Pool
Ok, so these are the reasons why the above numbers 1-6 will likely be an issue, if not tomorrow, then by next week:
1. Maia's hair is not like my hair. My hair was always as straight as the road home. Her hair is like her paternal grandmother's hair, undulating like the sea and knotty as pine. Unless she wants to get up at 6:30 and get in the shower, we will have to find a way to tame it every day. This typically involves lots of anti-frizz cream and sometimes the straightener. It involves a wide toothed comb and sometimes crocodile tears. I was never good at hair (and any woman can tell you, you're either good at it or you're not). And just when I think Maia's hair is A-OK and cute as can be, she will pull it out of it's ponytail holder or barette concoction and deem it horrible and terrible and no-good-very-bad-hate-it-don't-want-it hair. That is when I walk out of the bathroom, leaving her screaming, and tell her to do her own hair. I'm mean like that.
2. Two years ago, at the beginning of kindergarten I started insisting that Maia choose her breakfast food at night and we would set it out (if possible) before bed. This choice was not to be deviated from in the morning and would save us at least 10 minutes of ridiculous wailing about not being able to decide on breakfast. This worked for a while. Then it stopped working. I'm sure you can see the loophole in the plan. She gets up in the morning and has a solid reason why she can't eat the chosen food then quickly and easily chooses another food and negates all efforts of the night before. Soon, we stop bothering with the nighttime choosing because maybe it will be ok to choose in the morning after all.... riiiiiggghhhhttt. After a week or so, we're right back where we started.
So, now, for 2nd grade, we're not really doing any better than we were two years ago. Last night I went grocery shopping and as I chose waffles, mini-muffin tops, Trix and bagels for our week's breakfasts, I thought to myself "WTH am I setting myself up for?? I should get ONE item--albeit two or three boxes-- and make them all eat it every day this week. Kids in other countries don't have 4 or more choices (cause there's already bread for toast and oatmeal at home!) for breakfast!!" If there is one tear over the freakin' breakfast in the next week, we are goin' on the Outer Mongolia Plan.
3. Maia has a new pair of tennis shoes for school. They are Nike. I am not proud of this. She is supposed to wear them every day so that she doesn't need gym shoes. She has agreed to this. I paid almost $40 for these shoes so that they would be cool enough to wear every day --not Payless like all of her other shoes in other words. And I know that I likely aided in the exploitation of at least 7 Chinese children in the process. Don't think this irony is lost on me. And how much do you wanna bet that one week into school she will have an outfit that "doesn't go" with these tennis shoes? I would bet my next paycheck that we will fight about her wanting to wear flip flops to school within the next 7 days.
4. Nate is starting preschool. He has been going there already for over a year but was in the "three year old room" and, thus, not technically in preschool even though he learned to right his name and all of his letters. Now he is officially moving to the preschool room and must have a folder and backpack and all of that. Something tells me that he will also still be taking his blue blankie with him, which I admit that I haven't tried to break him from because I might just love that blue blankie and all that it stands for as much as he does.
I assume that it is the anxiety over switching rooms next Monday that has him a little antsy about school. Well, maybe "antsy" isn't the right term. He is mainly saying (over and over again) "I Hate School". And then he comes up with a new ailment that he's pretty sure should keep him from having to go to school. The ailment, like today's proclaimed mouth sore, typically makes it impossible for him to change his own clothes. He has also started to scream for Mommy (why is it always me?) from the toilet and say that he can't wipe himself. I realize that a year ago I would have paid good money just to have him potty trained and would have gladly wiped his butt, but the honeymoon is over, my friends, and the kid should be wiping his own arse.
5. We've had the talk. She's knows the rules.
Maia is supposed to be completely ready for school before she gets on the computer. Even if she gets up early. Even if she knows that she will have time to get ready later. Even if it's Mom's late day and we don't have to leave as soon. She is still supposed to have her clothes and shoes on, have eaten her breakfast, have combed and fixed her hair, have brushed her teeth and have her bag and whatever else she needs ready to go by the door BEFORE GETTING ON THE COMPUTER. The latest yahoo buzz about Hannah Montana can wait.
I give it two weeks, maybe a week and a half before we start fighting about it.
6. I don't even know where to begin about the neighbor's pool. But let's start by saying that them having a pool shouldn't be affecting my amount of sleep. And yet all summer it has been forcing me to sleep in Maia's room 1/2 of the time (or more) because they are so freaking loud that it keeps us awake in our room even though we have the windows closed and the air on. Who puts a pool with lights and water jets and a stereo and a fire pit in a yard the size of a Cadillac? Who then proceeds to party until 1AM in said pool with complete disregard for sleeping neighbors?
We are so the boringest people in the neighborhood. But, hey, I often work on Saturday mornings. I should be able to go to sleep by 10 or 11 without a thumping bass or screeching kids or cackling laugher outside my window. I don't live on freaking campus! I pay a mortgage instead of rent so that I can have my privacy, thank you very much.
If they even try to do this after school has started, I will have to break the Amazing Tolerance and Neighborly Friendship Pact that has kept me from saying anything thus far. That will snap the very thin wire that we are treading on right now with the pool situation. One school night pool party will be all it takes because we are all gonna need as much sleep as we can muster at our house starting yesterday.
All of that said, I'm sure it will be a fabulous start to the school year for at least the first 4 days (oh, and soccer season, too, let's not forget that!) And can I just say that at this time of year, when the library gets really quiet... I don't miss teaching at all! :)
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Little House in Country Gardens
You know you watched it: Little House on the Prairie, circa 1980 or so. "Pa, Laura's stuck in the barn and I can't see through the blizzard to get to the tin bucket clothesline contraption to follow the rope and blindly save her. Plus, I might have small pox and may not make it through the night."Maybe it was just me, sharing the name of the winsome, if buck-toothed, heroine of the show, but wasn't it the best hour of television in your 6-year-old week? The way that Caroline and Charles loved each other through the hardships. Laura's spunk, Mary's shocking blindness, Nellie Olsen (Nellie Olsen!!) and her band of snobby, town girls. And if you were an elementary school girl in the late seventies or early eighties, you know you had at least one dress in your closet that resembled something the Little House girls wore. It might have had a high, frilly neck or an eyelet embellished chest. It might have been gingham. It most certainly had a bow in the back. (And you wore it with color coordinated cable knit tights. You KNOW you did!!) Such was the desire to be like the girls we admired on television, nevermind that they were portraying children from the 1800's.
Alas, short of American Girl books and shows, there is now little in this historical/prairie-girl-wannabe genre for our daughters (and/or sons... I don't want to leave them out!) Even though (gasp!), I have never read the Little House books, I do admire them and was delighted when a recent honorarium was made to the library to buy specifically any Little House books that we might still need in our collection. Well, we had new hardback copies of most of the major books in the series, but there are several offshoot series that we didn't yet have and I was able to get about 14 new books to add to our Little House offerings. I made a display of them in the windowsill here on the Children's floor complete with a family tree print out of Laura Ingalls Wilder's female relatives (whom most of the offshoot series are about--her mother, grandmother and daughter). Many of them have been checked out, and I was fairly intrigued when my Junie B. Jones-reading daughter decided that she wanted to try a few of them.
Think about life on the prairie over 100 years ago for a little girl: it's oven hot and dusty in the summer, icy blizzards and illness in the winter. Ma making you churn butter. Pa taking the wagon out to hunt and maybe never coming back. Farm animals making manure to scoop. Outhouses, root cellars, barn raisings. We're talking about as different from Maia's little Nintendo DS hazed world as you can get. You can bet your cable knit tights that Laura and Mary Ingalls had chores on the farm, for instance. That's right: CHORES, aka Tasks that children used to do in order to help the family survive, pulling their weight in making sure that there was enough to eat or that the family homestead didn't perish in a fire or violent prairie pirate attack (they had those, right?) So, maybe just reading about these chores that the children did back in the olden days would be good for Maia, I thought.
In fact, at the same time that Maia got started reading these fine historical novels for youngsters, Shad and I determined that Maia needed to be more disciplined in helping around the house. We've had chore charts from time to time and she'll help out here and there for the odd quarter or maybe $0.50. But, as of a week ago, I'm ashamed to say that the child had no hard and fast chore list that belonged to just her. Clearly, we had been asleep at the wagon wheel on this one. But, it's never too late to start, right? That's the thinking anyway, and so Shad and Maia laid out a daily chore list for her. Do the chores without complaint, earn some cash. Simple as pie. Whine about the chores, do them anyway, earn zero cash. Refuse to do the chores, lose privileges like computer or DS time. Regardless of attitude, chores must be done. Do them nicely and get rewarded. It seems so simple.
And yet simplicity is not a theme that I would ever use in reference to my daugther. Nothing about her is simple. She is no Laura Ingalls, starting with the roughly 20 summer shirts she has stuffed into her dresser drawer, her iDog, her Nintendo, last summer's ebay business, her ability to sight read words like "diminuendo", her desire to give to charity at a pace that will have us adopting ALL of Lima, Peru by 2011, and last but not at all least, her frenzied leap into crazy at the drop of a hat.
Thus, it was last night, three whole days into the new chore list system that Maia Lost It about her chores. During supper. While we were trying to eat spaghetti. Just me and Shad trying to eat some noodles and sauce with a breadstick or two. We had already weathered Round One of Nate not wanting to eat anything but pretzels and were trying to salvage what was left of dinner when the Chaos Ensued. She wanted to play a game with me after supper. Shad reminded her that we couldn't play anything until she had done her chores. Screaming, crying, flailing, the works. "It's not fair!!!" Shad carried her to her room. Now she would not be getting any allowance for the chores, but she would still have to do them if she wanted to play a game with me. (We've long ago determined that taking things away from Maia doesn't work too well. It's the parent time that she is really wanting, and that is what we have to take away to make any type of punishment work with her. It sucks.) She carried on quite valiantly for a long while. Shad actually drove away in the car for solace and to keep from losing what's left of his mind.
Finally, a switch flipped in her and she came out and began to empty the trash. Silently, she went to the backyard and picked up all of the yard toys. She made her bed. It took all of 5 minutes.
Here's my question: Do you think that Laura Ingalls or her sisters ever yelled at their parents about doing chores? I'm pretty sure they weren't getting an allowance for it. Did they say "That's not fair"? I'm bettin' my general store licorice whip that they didn't. Did Ma and Pa have to take away their corn husk dolls when they didn't cooperate? Right... of course not. They just swatted them if they had to and went on with life. And I bet that didn't happen too often, either. And so, given the difficulties in their life, all of the sweat and dirt and flour ground from the corn grown in the soil that they tilled with their one horse ... was it really that much more difficult? Would I trade the simplicity of their day for the craziness of ours? I think I might. We all know how very spoiled young Nellie Olsen was. Has my own child tipped that side of the scale already? Well, she's not mean to other kids like Nellie, thankfully. But the shades of entitlement and disregard for authority are not pleasing to me. And I know that Shad sees this every day teaching school. I even saw it here at the library today in two kids that we had to kick out for spitting on other kids. I know it is not a problem unique to our household, but that doesn't make it ok with me.
Here's to Caroline and Charles and their brood of young darlings on the prairie back in the 1870's. I have to wonder if they took a nip of the moonshine after the girls went to sleep, a chapter left out of the classic tales of innocence.
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