When Ryan was born, I had visions of my offspring dancing around my head with books. Books, books, books. I was so excited to share my love of books with my children. I have several of my most favorite childhood books that I still read almost every year. Miss Jellytot’s Visit, The Ghosts who went to School, The Haunted House, Mrs. Mike, Trixie Belden Mysteries. Sigh. Trixie Belden.
When Ryan was 2 years old, I decided there was no time to waste. I needed to have the entire 39 book series of Trixie Belden books for her. I was a SAHM at the time and we didn’t have a lot of money. I put the word out to my father and my mother in law who are both used book shoppers. Soon books came trickling in. #4, #9, #15, another #4. I reread them all and it only increased my zeal.
I had to have the entire series. I called a book dealer and asked for the entire set up to 35. Now these books were written between 1946 and 1986. They went out of print until 2003 when they reprinted books 1 through 4. I can’t remember how much I paid for them. They went straight on the credit card and a word was never spoken to my husband. I remember opening the box in the kitchen and looking at the pictures as though they were portraits of real people that had lived before. That summer I read Trixie until I was deliciously sick to death of her.
I started reading #1 The Secret of the Mansion to Ryan when she was 5 years old. I knew it was not going to work but I tried. I thought I could instill a love in her for the books before she could even read. Nope.
It turns out that I turned her off to books completely. My first two children—the ones I stayed home with and read at least 5 books to every day---do not like to read at all. My very biggest failure as a mother…….at least up to now.
So those books have stayed buried in her closet despite my attempts to resuscitate the Trixie Belden love. Finally just a month ago I pulled them out of Ryan’s closet and brought them upstairs to my bedroom. I have two bookshelves in my room. They are laden with my very best friends, my most fervent lovers, my guiding lights and my private secret shames. Trixie belongs here. I didn't know I was missing her but I have never slept better in my life.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Now leaving the land of the living......for a book break
I just got home from the bookstore where I bought the 6th book in Diana Gabaldon's Jamie and Claire series. A Breath of Snow and Ashes. It has a total of 980 pages. I give myself.......oh, 5 days.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Pleasantville
Once upon a time there was a prince and a princess that lived in the land of Utah. They had three children and many friends that lived in neighboring castles in the land of Utah. They were very happy. There was many good relation building banquets and feasts held and friendships were strengthened. They went on trips and outings and everything was happily ever after.
But as the princess became better friends with her neighbors she found she did not like the other princes so much. She found that the other princesses sometimes did not like the other princes so much either. There was whisperings of princes shacking up with maids in waiting and princes using royal jewels to buy silly things like additional carriages or crowns. There was much agitation and grief that overcame the land. The princess got so caught up in all the going ons that she started getting bogged down inside. All her royal rage wanted to make things right. Things should be right, shouldn’t they? The princess definitely lived in a castle away from the real world. No, she hid in the castle. She loved the castle and loved the world that she created inside the castle. She wanted to believe that all people were good and that all marriages were positive and ever after. She wanted to believe that she could shame princes into doing what she thought was right. She wanted to believe so much………that when it didn’t happen she turned into a fire breathing dragon! Her wrath was great and frightening. Everyone cowered before her. Everyone except her prince. He knew he could kill the beast. He looked at the princess and said, “I’m listening.” And the dragon/princess ranted and raved, breathing her fiery breath, singeing the prince’s eyebrows until her tears put the fire out and slowly she regained herself.
Next the princess announced that she hereby decreed that her royal family would move away from the land of Utah to “Pleasantville.” She stamped her feet and decreed and decreed and decreed. Where there was no agitation. No weeping and wailing. No natural disasters. And especially no rumours or murmurings of divorce.
However, the prince was a little less emotional (notice, I didn’t say smarter) than the princess and he held both of her hands in his and said
“There is no true Pleasantville. It is a fairy tale. For as soon as you got to know the new people and were involved in their lives you would see that there are problems all over.”
And the princess knew this to be true. She also knew that the dragon would come back but with the help of her dear prince she could again rid herself of the beast and that, my friends, is living happily ever after in the real world.
But as the princess became better friends with her neighbors she found she did not like the other princes so much. She found that the other princesses sometimes did not like the other princes so much either. There was whisperings of princes shacking up with maids in waiting and princes using royal jewels to buy silly things like additional carriages or crowns. There was much agitation and grief that overcame the land. The princess got so caught up in all the going ons that she started getting bogged down inside. All her royal rage wanted to make things right. Things should be right, shouldn’t they? The princess definitely lived in a castle away from the real world. No, she hid in the castle. She loved the castle and loved the world that she created inside the castle. She wanted to believe that all people were good and that all marriages were positive and ever after. She wanted to believe that she could shame princes into doing what she thought was right. She wanted to believe so much………that when it didn’t happen she turned into a fire breathing dragon! Her wrath was great and frightening. Everyone cowered before her. Everyone except her prince. He knew he could kill the beast. He looked at the princess and said, “I’m listening.” And the dragon/princess ranted and raved, breathing her fiery breath, singeing the prince’s eyebrows until her tears put the fire out and slowly she regained herself.
Next the princess announced that she hereby decreed that her royal family would move away from the land of Utah to “Pleasantville.” She stamped her feet and decreed and decreed and decreed. Where there was no agitation. No weeping and wailing. No natural disasters. And especially no rumours or murmurings of divorce.
However, the prince was a little less emotional (notice, I didn’t say smarter) than the princess and he held both of her hands in his and said
“There is no true Pleasantville. It is a fairy tale. For as soon as you got to know the new people and were involved in their lives you would see that there are problems all over.”
And the princess knew this to be true. She also knew that the dragon would come back but with the help of her dear prince she could again rid herself of the beast and that, my friends, is living happily ever after in the real world.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Grease
For Ryan’s 12th birthday we got her a pink mini ipod. (It was what she wanted.) She is really into music and listens to it all the time. I don’t mind saying that I am still completely biased in the music department. I think a lot of new stuff is stupid and just plain deafening. As a teenager I was definitely a music snob and liked only what we call alternative music and classic rock. I have come around a large corner and now listen mostly to country. Country is way more family oriented and more upbeat than anything pop culture has put out. (Yes, I am old.) However, I still want Ryan to gain an appreciation for all of the REALLY good stuff that is out there. The Police, The Cars, The Hooters, Billy Bragg, David Bowie, Devo, Prince, The Boomtown Rats…….Sigh!....so many perfectly perfect songs.
Anyways, I was downloading some songs onto her ipod for her and I put the Grease soundtrack on it which led to us renting the movie to watch. Grease. When I was in 4th grade my mother would not let us listen to the soundtrack because of the word “shit” in the song “Greased Lightning.” I don’t remember exactly when I got to actually see the movie but it must have been sometime during Jr High. I remember watching it over at my friend Jill’s house. Her mother drove me home that night. We were talking about the movie. I was saying how I didn’t think the movie was so bad. Alice said she thought it was a sad movie because eventually Sandy was turned into a “bad” girl and that was portrayed as the “cool” way. Kids all over were watching the movie and seeing that to be “cool” you had to be dumb and barely graduate high school with no further plans, you had to sleep around, you had to smoke and be disrespectful to teachers. I was the only one in the car with my friend’s mother and so I was really listening to her and I remember this like a ton of bricks. I didn’t want her to be right but I knew she was.
So now in this day and age Grease is PG. And yet it was with great consternation that I rented this video for my 12 year old daughter to watch. I have morphed from a young woman that firmly and staunchly believed in “Live and let live” to an older woman that believes in “Live and let live…….but don’t do it around my children.” I knew that the transformation was eminent. I did. I never wanted the throne of motherhood because I knew that it changed a person. I knew you became a figurehead for the family, no longer yourself. I have no problem with watching Grease myself but to rent it for some little innocent soul…… Damn. I am a prude. But I did let her watch it. And she will never have a hang up about this movie like I did. She will probably not even remember it as a good movie. But she will know who Frankie Avalon is and that he sang “Beauty School Dropout.”
Anyways, I was downloading some songs onto her ipod for her and I put the Grease soundtrack on it which led to us renting the movie to watch. Grease. When I was in 4th grade my mother would not let us listen to the soundtrack because of the word “shit” in the song “Greased Lightning.” I don’t remember exactly when I got to actually see the movie but it must have been sometime during Jr High. I remember watching it over at my friend Jill’s house. Her mother drove me home that night. We were talking about the movie. I was saying how I didn’t think the movie was so bad. Alice said she thought it was a sad movie because eventually Sandy was turned into a “bad” girl and that was portrayed as the “cool” way. Kids all over were watching the movie and seeing that to be “cool” you had to be dumb and barely graduate high school with no further plans, you had to sleep around, you had to smoke and be disrespectful to teachers. I was the only one in the car with my friend’s mother and so I was really listening to her and I remember this like a ton of bricks. I didn’t want her to be right but I knew she was.
So now in this day and age Grease is PG. And yet it was with great consternation that I rented this video for my 12 year old daughter to watch. I have morphed from a young woman that firmly and staunchly believed in “Live and let live” to an older woman that believes in “Live and let live…….but don’t do it around my children.” I knew that the transformation was eminent. I did. I never wanted the throne of motherhood because I knew that it changed a person. I knew you became a figurehead for the family, no longer yourself. I have no problem with watching Grease myself but to rent it for some little innocent soul…… Damn. I am a prude. But I did let her watch it. And she will never have a hang up about this movie like I did. She will probably not even remember it as a good movie. But she will know who Frankie Avalon is and that he sang “Beauty School Dropout.”
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Two sides of Me
Who would ever think that a life that is so busy could be boring? But bored I am. Or maybe that is just what the beast is telling me. Or maybe I don’t have those emotional connections that I need/want to make sure that this life is worthwhile. I don’t know. I am so pissed at the beast right now. Right now I am not really feeling the anxiety but it was in the driver’s seat for most of the weekend and the beginning of this week. It steals days from me.
At the beginning of the weekend, I was pondering as to how to know what feelings were truly mine and what were created/overshadowed/brought out by the beast. FOR EXAMPLE: I have a real strong desire to go find a women’s soccer league and join it. I love playing soccer. I love watching my daughter play soccer. I feel the joy of it when I am outside and on the field. I love team sports and the synergy that comes from being part of a team. This feeling I think is truly from myself. However, I get blindsided every time I actually try to actualize this feeling. My anxiety often shows itself when I have to go and play with my daughter’s team. Imagine how I would feel out on the field with many ladies. So my joy is tempered by the fight that must go on in my body to get me to go out and play. My joy is squashed as I continue to feel the anxiety while I am out on the field. My love does not stop the beast from playing along. In the past, I have pushed myself to enroll or sign up for something like this. I then spend the rest of the commitment dreading the thing that I wanted to do in the first place. The beast truly knows my weakness. It plays with my anticipatory feelings. Dread is such a horrible feeling. Do you know the Sesame Street book “There is a monster at the end of this book starring Grover?” I live that every day. And it KILLS me because I get to the “dreaded” activity and most of the time I have a perfectly good time. Or I spend the whole time letting the beast play me for a fool. So would somebody please sign me up for soccer and also pick me up for practice and find a babysitter?
At the beginning of the weekend, I was pondering as to how to know what feelings were truly mine and what were created/overshadowed/brought out by the beast. FOR EXAMPLE: I have a real strong desire to go find a women’s soccer league and join it. I love playing soccer. I love watching my daughter play soccer. I feel the joy of it when I am outside and on the field. I love team sports and the synergy that comes from being part of a team. This feeling I think is truly from myself. However, I get blindsided every time I actually try to actualize this feeling. My anxiety often shows itself when I have to go and play with my daughter’s team. Imagine how I would feel out on the field with many ladies. So my joy is tempered by the fight that must go on in my body to get me to go out and play. My joy is squashed as I continue to feel the anxiety while I am out on the field. My love does not stop the beast from playing along. In the past, I have pushed myself to enroll or sign up for something like this. I then spend the rest of the commitment dreading the thing that I wanted to do in the first place. The beast truly knows my weakness. It plays with my anticipatory feelings. Dread is such a horrible feeling. Do you know the Sesame Street book “There is a monster at the end of this book starring Grover?” I live that every day. And it KILLS me because I get to the “dreaded” activity and most of the time I have a perfectly good time. Or I spend the whole time letting the beast play me for a fool. So would somebody please sign me up for soccer and also pick me up for practice and find a babysitter?
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
How we deal with drugs at our house
We were sitting around the table eating dinner on a normal Tuesday night. I think we were almost done and by that I mean Chase was finished and itching to get away from the table. Bart decides to have a heart to heart talk with the kids about drugs. I know that he has had heard a truly rough story today and that this is fueling his actions.
"What do you know about drugs?" "Do you know anybody that does drugs?"
Hopefully I am right in saying that my children are still a little too young for a lot of interfacing with drugs. That may have been the reason for the blank faces. The uninterested stares. The tapping foot. The finger tracing the salad dressing that had fallen on the table.
They sat up a little straighter as Bart says "You know, drugs are illegal. You can get arrested and get in trouble with the police."
I sat up a little straighter as he continued, "....but you don't have to be afraid of the police. You have to be afraid of me. Because I will kick your ass if I ever find out that you are doing drugs."
I now go behind the kid's backs and start making frantic waving motions at this father. He ignores me.
"You will not be allowed in our house. I will kick your asses. I will make sure that you will hurt so bad you won't ever want to take drugs again." Chase may have let a snicker escape his lips. My husband is not an angry man. He does not threaten and he barely spanks. My kids have no reason to think that this threat is real. He notices the slip, "Look at me. Do I look like I am kidding to you? I am telling you right now so there are no mistakes. I promise I will kick your ass if I find out you have been doing drugs, if you have been involved in drugs in any way."
I see that he is winding down a bit. There is no way for me to go back on this promise that he has so emotionally made. The best I can do is temper it.
"Kids, you must believe that your father is saying this to you because he really and truly loves you."
"What do you know about drugs?" "Do you know anybody that does drugs?"
Hopefully I am right in saying that my children are still a little too young for a lot of interfacing with drugs. That may have been the reason for the blank faces. The uninterested stares. The tapping foot. The finger tracing the salad dressing that had fallen on the table.
They sat up a little straighter as Bart says "You know, drugs are illegal. You can get arrested and get in trouble with the police."
I sat up a little straighter as he continued, "....but you don't have to be afraid of the police. You have to be afraid of me. Because I will kick your ass if I ever find out that you are doing drugs."
I now go behind the kid's backs and start making frantic waving motions at this father. He ignores me.
"You will not be allowed in our house. I will kick your asses. I will make sure that you will hurt so bad you won't ever want to take drugs again." Chase may have let a snicker escape his lips. My husband is not an angry man. He does not threaten and he barely spanks. My kids have no reason to think that this threat is real. He notices the slip, "Look at me. Do I look like I am kidding to you? I am telling you right now so there are no mistakes. I promise I will kick your ass if I find out you have been doing drugs, if you have been involved in drugs in any way."
I see that he is winding down a bit. There is no way for me to go back on this promise that he has so emotionally made. The best I can do is temper it.
"Kids, you must believe that your father is saying this to you because he really and truly loves you."
Monday, September 12, 2005
Follow up/Wrap up
Bart's friend moved out of our house and back in well, now his house. He came and picked up all his stuff on Sunday and brought her to my house. After all this drama what was I supposed to do?!?! I could barely even look at her but managed a few strangled words. Definately not my best show. And Bart tells me that his friend told him that she cried the whole way back home and kept saying "What did you tell them about me?" "You're lying if you say you didn't tell them anything!" So for the time being, the drama, drama, drama has moved out of my house. Between you and me, I will keep the bed made up for him.
A MOMENT
I look at my 4 year old sleeping next to me in my bed on Sunday morning. I can't stop touching his little hands and face. His hair is so blonde and spread hither thither across his forehead hiding all his little scars that show he has had a full and busy life thus far. His lips are still so red and childlike with no imperfections. His skin is beautiful and he is at peace. I am filled with love. I am so full that my eyes let it seep out and gather on my pillow. I want to be the first thing he sees when he wakes. I want that smile to be for me. And it is. He is silly and he has a good morning in front of him. My eyes can't stop following him. He seems to glow today. His smiles are so true and inviting and contagious. He is growing up so fast. I can have a conversation with him that is logical, silly or even full of memories that we both share. I am sitting on the couch drinking in his little body that is in constant movement even while he is talking to me. The colors in his clothes-the orange, blue, red stripes seem to be "tide bright." His eyes sparkle and I can almost see his brain working as we talk. And then he romps away to be with his brother and I am left with more seepage and a picture of love that is tatooed on my heart.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
A good way to end the night
CIGARETTES AND TAMPONS
A man walks into a pharmacy and wanders up and downthe aisles. The sales girl notices him and asks him if she canhelp him. He answers that he is looking for a box oftampons for his wife. She directs him down the correctaisle. A few minutes later, he deposits a huge bag of cottonballs and a ball of string on the counter.She says, confused, "Sir, I thought you were looking forsome tampons for your wife? He answers, " You see, it's like this,yesterday,I sent my wife to the store to get me a carton of cigarettes,and she came back with a tin of tobacco and some rollingpapers; cause it's sooo-ooo--oo-ooo much cheaper.So, I figure if I have to roll my own........... so does she.
A man walks into a pharmacy and wanders up and downthe aisles. The sales girl notices him and asks him if she canhelp him. He answers that he is looking for a box oftampons for his wife. She directs him down the correctaisle. A few minutes later, he deposits a huge bag of cottonballs and a ball of string on the counter.She says, confused, "Sir, I thought you were looking forsome tampons for your wife? He answers, " You see, it's like this,yesterday,I sent my wife to the store to get me a carton of cigarettes,and she came back with a tin of tobacco and some rollingpapers; cause it's sooo-ooo--oo-ooo much cheaper.So, I figure if I have to roll my own........... so does she.
End of Day blog
It is 10:09 pm and I am finally getting 5 minutes of uninterrupted "me" time for the day. The kids and Bart are all in bed and I have finished all my tasks--that I am going to get done--for the day. I can unwind a bit.
Today was a little crazy and the weekend looks more of the same. Bart is going hunting again which is a mixed blessing. I do enjoy not having to work around/with/over/along with his schedule on the weekend. However, this weekend I could do with some adult help. I have two soccer games, a football practice and a game, a yard sale fundraiser and Cooper.
I finished Eragon and Eldest so I don't have a book to read and snatch little enjoyable moments between all these other activities. (Here is my recommendation: Not books you have to own but a good read.) Although I did find out that the last book in the Mitford series comes out in November. What a year! J. K. Rowling, Diane Gabaldon and Jan Karon. Wow!
I haven't had a Coke in almost a month but I may have to resort to that treat this weekend.
I hope it is a good weekend. It sure sucks to get through the whole week just to have a bad weekend.
Good night.
Today was a little crazy and the weekend looks more of the same. Bart is going hunting again which is a mixed blessing. I do enjoy not having to work around/with/over/along with his schedule on the weekend. However, this weekend I could do with some adult help. I have two soccer games, a football practice and a game, a yard sale fundraiser and Cooper.
I finished Eragon and Eldest so I don't have a book to read and snatch little enjoyable moments between all these other activities. (Here is my recommendation: Not books you have to own but a good read.) Although I did find out that the last book in the Mitford series comes out in November. What a year! J. K. Rowling, Diane Gabaldon and Jan Karon. Wow!
I haven't had a Coke in almost a month but I may have to resort to that treat this weekend.
I hope it is a good weekend. It sure sucks to get through the whole week just to have a bad weekend.
Good night.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Heraldo's corner---Drama, drama, drama!
Bart has a friend that has had some serious relationship nasties. He has been divorced….I think it was 6 months after he got married. He then spent several years as the single guy who tried out internet dating, bar dating, not dating and set ups. He may know every single woman living in our town.
Honestly he is not a bad guy. He is so anal---girls, that means he is clean and likes things a certain way. (If you know my slob of a husband, I will admit sometimes he is a little more handsome to me when I see him packing up his perfectly aligned camping bag that he takes on our camping trips.) He is…….cute. Not extremely handsome but definitely not ugly. Certainly takes care of himself. And he is tall and likes nice clothes. He is not losing his hair and he calls his grandma every week or so.
Lately he has been with this woman we will call Tiffany….which is her real name. I have no desire to protect the guilty. The best story about them is during one of the first overnight dates Tiffany found out she was allergic to one of the plastics that some companies make their condoms with. This entailed a trip to the emergency room. Can you even imagine?!?
She is a mortgage broker which means she gets paid on commission of loans. If there are no loans, there is no money. She does have 2 kids so she does get paid child support from two different men. While our friend and Tiffany have been dating she has had months where she had no income so he has had to pay for everything. For the house payment, the new car he bought her (I didn’t say he wasn’t stupid) and groceries. He also was maintaining his apartment as he didn’t want to commit entirely too soon. (I didn’t say he was braindead.)
To make a long story short, they just signed a loan where our friend took the house and all the debt in his name on Friday morning. Friday afternoon they were supposed to make the annual Labor Day Boulder Mountain trip with us and only our friend showed up. And now our friend is living at my house.
He is calling it a strained relationship. I call it a DEAD relationship. Tell me am I right or is he right? Because I am going to be killed and made into strained peas if Bart or our friend ever find out that I posted this!
Honestly he is not a bad guy. He is so anal---girls, that means he is clean and likes things a certain way. (If you know my slob of a husband, I will admit sometimes he is a little more handsome to me when I see him packing up his perfectly aligned camping bag that he takes on our camping trips.) He is…….cute. Not extremely handsome but definitely not ugly. Certainly takes care of himself. And he is tall and likes nice clothes. He is not losing his hair and he calls his grandma every week or so.
Lately he has been with this woman we will call Tiffany….which is her real name. I have no desire to protect the guilty. The best story about them is during one of the first overnight dates Tiffany found out she was allergic to one of the plastics that some companies make their condoms with. This entailed a trip to the emergency room. Can you even imagine?!?
She is a mortgage broker which means she gets paid on commission of loans. If there are no loans, there is no money. She does have 2 kids so she does get paid child support from two different men. While our friend and Tiffany have been dating she has had months where she had no income so he has had to pay for everything. For the house payment, the new car he bought her (I didn’t say he wasn’t stupid) and groceries. He also was maintaining his apartment as he didn’t want to commit entirely too soon. (I didn’t say he was braindead.)
To make a long story short, they just signed a loan where our friend took the house and all the debt in his name on Friday morning. Friday afternoon they were supposed to make the annual Labor Day Boulder Mountain trip with us and only our friend showed up. And now our friend is living at my house.
He is calling it a strained relationship. I call it a DEAD relationship. Tell me am I right or is he right? Because I am going to be killed and made into strained peas if Bart or our friend ever find out that I posted this!
Monday, September 05, 2005
What I did Labor Day weekend
Friday: Worked, released the Playstation for the weekend, got Ryan ready for Cami's birthday party, packed and drove up to Heber to sleep over at the cabin. Talked to Pam and Bob at the cabin and planned a Maryland party here in Utah. Could there really be that many of us that have migrated?
Saturday: Woke up at 5 am to get Bart over to Midway to register for his 10K race that started at 7 am. Cheered Bart on to the end of the race and then went over to Swiss Days and bought stained glass and clay ornaments. Drove home, unpacked and packed for the Boulder Mountain. Went over and watched Chase's first football game of the season (21-0. We are the latter.) Got in the car and drove 5 hours to the most beautiful place on earth, Boulder Mountain.
Sunday: Found out that the other girl did not show up for the campout so Ryan was the only girl there with 7 other boys. Conducted therapy session. Fourwheeled, fourwheeled and fourwheeled. Bart made bows out the branches and string for all the boys and they must have shot arrows at the target (and sometimes at each other) for hours.
Monday: Fourwheeled some more. Got sunburned on the lower lip (sign of a good fourwheeling ride) Drove home. Found out a 4th adult will be living at my house.
It was a pretty good weekend but it seemed like 40 days instead of just 4. I need another vacation.
Saturday: Woke up at 5 am to get Bart over to Midway to register for his 10K race that started at 7 am. Cheered Bart on to the end of the race and then went over to Swiss Days and bought stained glass and clay ornaments. Drove home, unpacked and packed for the Boulder Mountain. Went over and watched Chase's first football game of the season (21-0. We are the latter.) Got in the car and drove 5 hours to the most beautiful place on earth, Boulder Mountain.
Sunday: Found out that the other girl did not show up for the campout so Ryan was the only girl there with 7 other boys. Conducted therapy session. Fourwheeled, fourwheeled and fourwheeled. Bart made bows out the branches and string for all the boys and they must have shot arrows at the target (and sometimes at each other) for hours.
Monday: Fourwheeled some more. Got sunburned on the lower lip (sign of a good fourwheeling ride) Drove home. Found out a 4th adult will be living at my house.
It was a pretty good weekend but it seemed like 40 days instead of just 4. I need another vacation.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Our new pet peeve
Remember in the movie Mr. Mom when Michael Keaton drives his kids to school the first day of his unemployed life and the lady screams at him for entering in the exit lane at the school? Anybody remember her name?
Chase is in 5th grade and we live quite a few busy streets away from the elementary school. We were bus kids until last year when they took our neighborhood and quite a few others out of the budget. Last year Ryan was still going to that same school so I reasoned that they could stay together and bike to school. This year Chase has nobody to bike with. Hence, I started to participate in a carpool. I drive Chase along with three blonde 5th graders. I feel like Charlie and the Angel's chauffeur.
Anyhow, the reason for this post is finally coming. I can't believe how bad mothers drive! I will be forced into swearing, cussing and maybe getting out of my car and making hand gestures before the end of the year and I just drive T-W-TH mornings. There are two lanes that follow a fairly large half circle on the school property. You would think the one next to the curb would be for unloading and the outside lane would be for getting the hell out. No, I have watched parents stop in the middle of both lanes and then get out to get their child's scooter out the back of the car. I have seen mothers pull up in the middle of the half circle and get out and GO IN THE SCHOOL! I have watched parents in the outside lane pull in front of me as I have very nicely waited in the unloading zone for other cars to leave. Don't pull into the outside lane until you have dropped your child off. It is a getting out lane, not a butting in line lane. Unfortunately I seem to be the only one who knows that.
Bart is in charge of the jr high carpool. They have to be at school by 7:15 am. He drives W-TH-F mornings. Bart called me today and said "I have two things for you. One, I don't think I will be able to drive the 7th graders to school any longer."
"Why not?"
"Because nobody can drive worth a shit over there! I have been cut off and the lady pulls in at a 45 degree angle to let the kids out! What the hell is that about?!"
"I know. I see the same thing at the Elementary school. The same exact thing. It is probably the same mothers."
"I am going to buy $300 worth of orange cones and I will even volunteer to set them up at 6:30 am every morning so that people know you only drop off in the unloading lane. When is the next PTA meeting. I am going to be there."
So, here it is. The warning not to move to Utah if you have kids. Or at least move onto the bus routes because carpooling is for the birds!
Chase is in 5th grade and we live quite a few busy streets away from the elementary school. We were bus kids until last year when they took our neighborhood and quite a few others out of the budget. Last year Ryan was still going to that same school so I reasoned that they could stay together and bike to school. This year Chase has nobody to bike with. Hence, I started to participate in a carpool. I drive Chase along with three blonde 5th graders. I feel like Charlie and the Angel's chauffeur.
Anyhow, the reason for this post is finally coming. I can't believe how bad mothers drive! I will be forced into swearing, cussing and maybe getting out of my car and making hand gestures before the end of the year and I just drive T-W-TH mornings. There are two lanes that follow a fairly large half circle on the school property. You would think the one next to the curb would be for unloading and the outside lane would be for getting the hell out. No, I have watched parents stop in the middle of both lanes and then get out to get their child's scooter out the back of the car. I have seen mothers pull up in the middle of the half circle and get out and GO IN THE SCHOOL! I have watched parents in the outside lane pull in front of me as I have very nicely waited in the unloading zone for other cars to leave. Don't pull into the outside lane until you have dropped your child off. It is a getting out lane, not a butting in line lane. Unfortunately I seem to be the only one who knows that.
Bart is in charge of the jr high carpool. They have to be at school by 7:15 am. He drives W-TH-F mornings. Bart called me today and said "I have two things for you. One, I don't think I will be able to drive the 7th graders to school any longer."
"Why not?"
"Because nobody can drive worth a shit over there! I have been cut off and the lady pulls in at a 45 degree angle to let the kids out! What the hell is that about?!"
"I know. I see the same thing at the Elementary school. The same exact thing. It is probably the same mothers."
"I am going to buy $300 worth of orange cones and I will even volunteer to set them up at 6:30 am every morning so that people know you only drop off in the unloading lane. When is the next PTA meeting. I am going to be there."
So, here it is. The warning not to move to Utah if you have kids. Or at least move onto the bus routes because carpooling is for the birds!
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