Tuesday, October 30, 2012

that kind of mother (Part 2).

I had every right to fear that skating party.  At 5:15, 15 minutes before I was to pick Millie up, I got a phone call.

Millie?  Is that you?
Mom...  i don't know where (deep breathing)....I can't (swallowing tears)... I don't know where anyone is?

And with that it was established that Millie was still at Classic Skate.  What?

Stay there.  Stay by a worker.  Don't move.  I'm coming now.

I threw everyone in the car, Ellis and cousin Ella, while phoning birthday mom.

Me: Where are you?
B-Mom: Just pulling into the driveway.
Me: Millie just called.  She is still at Classic Skate.
B-Mom: Millie is is still at Classic Skate?????
Me.  Millie is still at Classic Skate.
B-Mom: I'm turning around.  I'll go get her.
Me: No.  I will go get her.  Take care of your birthday kids.

And with that we were off.  I sped, and I prayed, and I had Ellis pray.  Don't move Millie.  Don't go into the parking lot.  Don't talk to strangers.  Don't go to the bathroom.  Don't take candy...... And it went on and on as I thought of all scenarios.

Every what if.

And there was traffic.  Lots of traffic.

By the time we pulled up, it had been 45 minutes that my 7 year old had been alone.

We ran in and there she was.  Sitting on the floor.  In front of the ticket window.  Jaw down to her chin.  Eyes a bit swollen.  Not looking up, slow to move.

And we went through everything.  What happened?  What have you been doing?  Who did you talk to?  Are you okay?  Are you okay?  Are you okay?

She was okay, and during the 30 minute return trip, she talked about how much fun she had before the leaving.

I returned her to the party.  It was over. Not officially.  But over in terms of the invitation time.  And  I took her back.  Because she deserved cake.  And ice cream.  And a party bag.  And love.  And recognition. 

The mom was mortified.  But not enough.  Because other than a hug, she spent the rest of the time on the phone, telling other people what happened, instead of talking to me.  Talking to my daughter.  Getting through this.  And I had spent an entire afternoon bursting into tears.

They had miscounted.  1 girl was dropped off by her mother, and took Millie's place in the car count.

So yes. I am that kind of mother.  A mother with 11 years experience chaperoning high schoolers.  Taking other people's children to far fetched places and I would have double checked.  And had I left a child I would have looked them in the eye.  Given love, and attention, and made that child feel good.  Really good.

Any correlation with sequins?  I'm finding myself hypothesizing.  I don't want to make a judgement based on looks...

but perhaps I should.

Friday, October 26, 2012

that kind of mother (Part 1).

I just dropped Millie off. At a skate party. She's never been skating. What kind of a mother am I to have never taken her 7 year old skating?

I don't know.

And as we drove up and saw the swarm of girls, not one did Millie know. And all of a sudden she refused to exit the vehicle. And I stood outside. by myself. wearing corderoy pants old enough to have lost their corderoy, and a baggy blue $5.00 turtleneck sweater that is brilliant at collecting those balls of wool. With a haircut that has not been trimmed by a professional in over a year, pulled back to attempt a semi-professional look that only works when viewing it via a webcam. Self-cut bangs that hang wrong, glasses down to the tip of my nose.

Standing by myself. Staring at not only this group of young girls, but their mothers, all perfectly couffed, make-uped, matching outfits that seemed to contain as many sequins as those of their girls. And they were perfection, glimmering in the shine of their Escolades.

Millie finally joined me, hiding behind my back, and I sent her off to interact with a tribe unlike my own.

Got in my car, returned to the mess that is home. Feeling overly inadequate and full of skating party fear.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

listing my hereness.

If I post in truth right now, it might be depressing. I tend to post during the blues, asking the keyboard to pull me into the yellows. So perhaps a list to limit the damage I might make in the world?
  1. I really, really loved the muppet movie. One of few movies I could watch over and over again.
  2. I want people to burst into song in my own reality.
  3. Maybe if I imagine people singing around me it will become reality.
  4. I talk too much in class.
  5. Did you know I'm working two jobs?
  6. I'm also going to school full time.
  7. Oh, and I'm attempting to retain the parenting.
  8. However you should note that I've given up on cleaning and cooking.
  9. Hoarders here I come!
  10. This was fine until I learned my pay for this semester teaching one class online, 9 students (7 of whom are graduate level). Let's just say I cannot bring myself to calculate the actual hourly pay as it might break me into a thousand tiny pieces.
  11. It's hard to find funding as a non-nurse in a nursing program.
  12. Motivation is hard to come by.
  13. Funding, grants, publishing, presentations are all non-required stressors because they are implied requirements outside of work and homework.
  14. Diet Coke isn't the motivator it once was.
  15. Neither are doughnuts.
  16. I love it when Ellis says, "What the heck in the mud?"
  17. Millie made me toast as my pre-birthday breakfast. It was good toast with peanut butter on top.
  18. I want to crawl into bed and stay there for a week.
  19. I don't want anymore requirements.
  20. Michel Foucault can be so inspiring and so hard to grasp at the same time. And applying his thoughts to the dichotomy between the sciences and humanities in the way that is right and correct is leaving knots in my brain.
  21. Mornings stink.
  22. So do showers, until I'm actually in one.
  23. Dear Facebook users - why do you post things that are completely offensive to me?
  24. Dear Me - why can't you ever reply honestly to these posts?
  25. Reading that back makes it seem like I'm offended by like R rated stuff. or whatever. Maybe I am. But people I know don't really go to there. I'm talking about politics and opinions.
  26. I recommend Mindy Kahling's book.
  27. How do I have time to read this?
  28. You are right - I don't. (Please see #12, 14, and 15 above)
  29. Clin claims that Fantastic Sam's is perfectly acceptable for a major haircut.
  30. I claim only for men, children, and trims.
  31. He says it is just as good as the Paul Mitchell School.
  32. Is that true?
  33. The Secret Garden pretty much rocks
  34. but is impossible to read to a 4 year old
  35. and only partially impossible with the 6 year old.

Of course there must be lots of Magic in the world....but people don't know what it is like or how to make it. Perhaps the beginning is just to say nice things are going to happen until you make them happen.
~ The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett ~

Tuesday, October 18, 2011


I now own a heating pad. And my feet are full of joy. Beautiful invention.

I'm hoping the warmth spreads. Every now and then I get the craving for something to inspire and excite. To feel something other.

Like support. Warm support. Saying, "Awesome, so glad you are doing this, what a great choice, nice work, you can do this, don't give up, keep going, keep moving, this is for you."

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

numb, with a slight paralysis of the shoulder.

I'm posting.

Today was hard.

Not for me.

For Millie.

She's in 1st now.

And the genius of Junie B. Jones is that it's almost real. Like looking in a mirror. At my daughter.

1 week of school in. Full days. And she has turned into this talk-a-tive, non-listening, hyper child.

Today I received my first phone call from the school. Panic attack, until I heard Millie's voice:
Mom. I need you to bring me a shirt. I spilled all over my shirt. Come now. I'm in the office.
I'm there. And her shirt, yellow and new for the school year, had chocolate running down the front with a bunch of strawberry smatterings for highlight.

Today was her first time purchasing school lunch. And her mother never taught her to drink from the chocolate milk cartons without a straw.

And her teachers moved her desk. Why?
Because they said that it would be better for me.
What does that mean? Has she been misbehaving? Non-stop talking? A problem student?

That wasn't the case last year. But all of a sudden her talking switch has been turned on, and every new person she meets tells me "she certainly likes to talk."

And the girl that I know who so badly wants to get to pink, is bumped warning and then informs me:
When my teacher gets mad and says, "Millie this is your warning!", I just cross my eyes like this.
And then she crosses her eyes.

Wish she would do that with me. Instead, I get yelling, crying, screaming, door slamming, apologies that then meld back into our cycle 'o' fatigue. For I am sure that is the cause. Right? Right?

I'm saying right. Cause it makes me feel better. And what if I hadn't been home today?

Monday, February 21, 2011

missing you. you little blog you.

seriously missing. but i fear that if i commit to other things, school will go down the tube. in particular? my stats grades, which includes 2 quizzes of 100%, and a practice midterm of 92%. that is right, there is hope for me in this numerical world. the real midterm (next week) threatens to beat me back down to my pre-semester humility. but i will admit that z-scores pretty much rock. that's right. i said it.

so back to my fear of tubing, i'm committing a few seconds to note a couple of important observations that i pretty much love:
  1. Millie says "I love you" to her friends all the time. And she gives them hugs. Without them saying it to her first. And she does it in public. Seriously - random I loves, to those with whom she interacts for perhaps five minutes once a week. Random love is like z-scores. Both cut out the confusion, jump to the point, in a language that all can understand. Basically both are just plain awesome.

  2. Ellis has a bad habit. And it's kind of my fault. When frustrated, or worried, she enjoys saying, "dannit." Yeah. Not quite the articulation of her mother, but she's really working on it. And we are really trying to emphasize that darn-it is a much better word. And then she says, "we aren't supposed to say bad words. Dannit is a bad word. We shouldn't say dannit." And we'll say, that's right Ellis we don't say bad words. And she'll say, "Like dannit. Dannit is a very bad word. Millie we're not supposed to say dannit." And that will go on, because more than anything, repeating the word often in an attempt to explain its' badness is the ultimate goal. And I'll admit that's pretty awesome.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

slow to start.

What began as a very encouraging first week back in school has now turned into the traumatic, looming, forecasting of things to come. Really. I hear the haunting music in the background. Right now.

Stats quiz #1 - 40%. Yeah for me!!!! I have two more chances to take the thing. However, the questions change with each try.

And honest - I thought I had control of the content, otherwise I would have in no way attempted the quiz.

Fear now ensues.