I'm ready for February

I know an awful lot of people who were quite happy to shake the dust of last year and jump into this one. I, on the other hand, have not been too pleased with January, which will be going out on the same sour note it has been playing for weeks.

True, it hasn't been all bad. I did get my ring, after all. And my little brother came to visit. But people are getting me down with all their nonsense.

• I really need to get my child development book out and find out whether it is just seven year-olds in general or mine specifically that are such a pain in the ass. Add to that not knowing what to do about him and the nightmare that is the school bus, and parenting does not top my list of fun activities.
• Despite my reassurances to myself, this PTA stuff just really weighs on me. And even though part of me knows that 3 months isn't a very long time, it seems like an eternity until I can get out of this gig.
• A certain person in our family has been unwell for quite a long time, and things are looking particularly grim these days. And because of the nature of the situation, it is a very draining experience.
• Dorian's school has announced that they will be going sledding every Tuesday for the whole month of February, thereby messing up one of only 2 days a week that he goes, because of course they want drivers and chaperones for these little excursions.
• And I get to end the month with Jeremy leaving on a business trip for 4 days to floody California. At least I'm not dealing with poopy 10 month-old twins alone like that brave soul Mr. Listmaker.

You know, I learned from my nature program puppet show that chipmunks are dormant through the winter, lying on a pile of seeds they collected, waking only to take a little nibble here and there and fall back asleep. Doesn't that sound grand?

Metal or bamboo?

The knitting needles may have to become a weapon now that I have found out that a certain insane person in charge of a certain crazy event thinks I'm not doing anything even though I have wasted both of my free mornings this week doing shit for her. And I already have an hour tomorrow to look forward to as well as Monday morning. She's lucky I don't know the first thing about how to fire bomb a house.

I knit so I don't kill people

This is a somewhat popular slogan amongst knitters, and it has never been more true for me than lately as my stress level continues to rise. But I won't mention the PTA or the out of control event we are throwing this weekend or the fact that I haven't had a day off in over a month. No, I'll just show you my handiwork. Because even though I am sure a knitting needle would make an awesome murder weapon, I don't want to get blood on my wool.

My mystery sock:

I do wish that the yarn weren't quite so stripy so that the pattern would be more visible, but I like the pattern so much that I will probably knit it again in a color that shows it off a little better. The second clue took me almost the whole week to complete because it was a longer section and I didn't set aside a lot of time for it, but I finished the third clue in one day. I like how the fake cables and the ribbing continue down the heel. I'm really happy I started this project.

My sweater:

The heathery gray simplicity of this knit sort of depresses me, especially since it has been reflecting our weather for the week, but I'm sure that what is not so fun about it to knit is exactly what will make it a staple of my wardrobe. So now I'm on a search for an interesting edge for the cuffs and the bottom, so I can spice it up a little bit.

And, finally, a purse:

Kaci gave me this yarn from her trip to Ireland and I decided a long time ago that I would use it for a bag of some sort. I found a pattern yesterday while I was working and started knitting last night during Mad Men. I have 4 more rows for this piece which will be the front. What I thought was cute in the pattern book is looking suspiciously like underwear. But I'm going to ignore that and keep going. I'm sure when it is finished it won't look like it belongs over a cloth diaper.

Totally inappropriate

I was at a birthday party for a 3 year old tonight. There was a woman talking loudly about the abortion she had when she was 16 and advising all who would listen to just lie about your dates if you go past 3 months.

Thanks for the hot tip.

Things I have seen when picking DeeDee up from preschool

1. Dorian waiting by the fence watching for my car. "Mom, I think you are late!" "I'm actually 5 minutes early." "Well, don't forget to check my mailbox."
2. A scabby child hugging Dorian goodbye.
3. Kids that I sincerely wish were not attending Sebastian's school being picked up from 1/2 day kindergarten.
4. Dorian happily playing with all the new "guys" at his new school.
5. A woman driving a Hummer take out 2 orange cones used to direct the kindergarten traffic.

That boy has got problems

While my darling cousin Emily was here this weekend, she got to witness the bizarre spectacle that is The Children Across the Street. She was already horrified by their constant staring in our direction, the incessant hellos from the youngest girl, and the swinging of wooden baseball bats at each other-- you know, the things that have become a normal day in our neighborhood. And then we saw the absolute icing on the cake.

You may recall that part of my new fence needed to come down to allow for the excavation of our sewer pipe (an event that quickly became the talk of the town). Two dowels and one post were taken down, and to do this, the workmen removed 2 galvanized nails and then left them stuck in the top of one of the remaining posts.

While I watched from the kitchen, the middle child from across the street, an 8 year old boy who when asked how to spell his name told me, "I have yearned many things, but I have never yearned to spell my own name," wandered over to inspect the newly poured cement of the sidewalk. Then I saw him touching the nails in the fence post. As my cousin and I exchanged a disdainful look, I realized that the nails were no longer in the post. I called out the door, "G-----, did you take those nails?"

"What?"

"I said, did you take those nails? From the fence?"

And that's when he pulled them out of his mouth.

There really will be days like this...

But WHY? Why must there?

So far today I have:

• Gotten my ass out of bed early to go in for healthy snack.
• Found out there was nothing to chop up for said snack.
• Had an unpleasant conversation with Mr. S's teacher.
• Made an appointment to speak to the principal tomorrow.
• Been bewildered and frightened by the recent addition of pop-up ads on my computer, despite the pop-up blocker.
• Vacuumed 10 lbs of granola and cereal products from under the dining room table.
• Took Dorian out for a treat and was subjected to people at the next table commenting on my letting him sip my coffee. (It's decaf, people! Relax!)
• Discovered that my car is making a horrible groaning sound.
• Made an appointment that isn't until next week to address the car problem, leaving me to wonder how to get to my talk with the principal.

And what will be next? I'll probably burn dinner, break a dish, be vomited on and then sulk through a special 2 hour diva fit on ANTM. Oh, bedtime, come quickly....

This town is full of nuts

I love my house. I really do. And I love that we have a biggish yard. What I don't love is that our yard is right at the corner, totally exposed to any crackpot passing by, or, you know, living across the street. If it isn't one of the TP-less neighbor children begging to come over, then it's the woman who throws all her snow back out into the newly plowed street hollering to me from 50 feet away about my garden.

Well, now I've met a new crazy who is chockful of information he is more than happy to share with me. After a rousing game of "soccer" yesterday, the boys were playing on the ice pile next to the porch while I dug in the garden. I can't help it. The spring fever has me in its deadly grippe. Suddenly, I hear a voice announce something about "little daredevils" and turn to see a guy I can only vaguely describe as a Caucasian male, 16-30, wearing a hat and child-size backpack. We'll call him "Shaun"-- mostly because that is what he later told us his name was.

I sort of smirk and go back to my digging, but he continues to lurk around at the end of my walk, finally asking if I am working on a garden and offering me "tips to grow the perfect garden." I politely demure, and again go back to digging, avoiding the lingering snow piles. At this point, he seems to have gotten the point and walks across the street to the corner where he removes a red lighter from his pocket, drops it in the gutter, and kicks it down the sewer grate. I shake my head, jam the shovel into the dirt, and hear him yell, "Hey! You know your ball is way over here?" "Yes, thank you." The ball was about 5 feet from the sidewalk, still in our yard, minding its own pink swirly business.

I turn my back, dig, and hear the sound of the ball being kicked and hitting the telephone pole support wires in the corner of our yard. I look up to see him running back from the street to put the ball back pretty much where he found it. "I'm putting your ball back here because it blew into the street." I sigh and tell the kids they have 5 minutes left until we go inside, hoping against hope that they will stay where they are and not engage this man-boy in any way.

Ha! They of course hear the 5 minute warning as an invitation to run around the front of the house to roll around on a different ice pile right where the sidewalk should be. I kick the dirt clods off the shovel, lean it against the house, and go around the corner to see Shaun now lingering near the snow. "Dorian, please move away from the street," I call just as he rolls off the snow into the road. Shaun picks him up and deposits him back on the snow and gives the kids various warnings about the many dangers of snow and ice while Dorian yelps excitedly, "The man helped me up, Mama!" and Sebastian says, "Thanks for the advice, sir." "You can call me 'Shaun'-- 'sir' is my father's name."

Then, he starts asking the kids their names. "Where did you get the name 'Dorian'?" I don't know why I said it, because it isn't even true, but I mentioned The Picture of Dorian Gray. He surprises me by asking if my Dorian is two-faced, thereby displaying some knowledge of the story. I told him not yet and gave the kids the one minute warning. Then he asks if I know why Dorian Gray was inhuman. "Why's that?" His answer involved a voodoo woman, among other things, immediately shattering my briefly high opinion of him.

I inform the children the time has come to go inside, and after a cheery goodbye, Shaun vanished as mysteriously as he appeared.

Scene from a video store

As I am waiting for Sebastian's Scooby-Doo DVD to be cleaned:

Woman: So... wait. That's rated R?

Clerk: Yes.

W: Well... what does that mean exactly? What age is that for?

C: You mean, what does the rating mean?

W: Yeah. Why would it be rated R? For, like, language or something?

C: Well, it's probably for partial nudity and language.

W: But, you know, is it appropriate for 15 year olds? What is it about, anyway?

C: Well, it's called Zach and Miri Make a Porno. So, it's about two friends who decide to, you know, make a porno.

W: But is it like Scary Movie?

Clerk #2: It's more of a dramatic comedy.

Hey! I saw a movie for grown-ups!

We'll ignore the fact that a certain children's music star was in the film, though. Because he really made no difference plot-wise.

Anyway, I went to see Revolutionary Road which I have been a total failure at obtaining a written copy of at the library or used book store. The library is ordering a copy for someone else, so I have to wait. Which is totally fine.

I enjoyed the movie and managed, amazingly, to not get too sucked into the whole disaffected housewife thing. If we still lived in Outlet Town, I guarantee I'd be bawling right now. But we don't and I'm not. Not that I didn't find the film to be moving, it just didn't make me feel like moving.

Anyway, after the movie ended and the credits started to roll, the women behind me stood up to leave.

Woman #1: That was just weird. And here I've been waiting weeks to see this movie. And it was just... weird.

Woman #2: It just makes you thankful you're normal.

Because being unhappy with your lot in life and having dreams, however unrealistic, is totally abnormal and ridiculous, right?

People are stoopid

In our mail today was a letter from a charity requesting a donation. Included was our "gift" of address labels. But there was also a nickel along with the statement, "This nickel could save a child's life."

So why the hell are they sending it to me?

Not only are they mailing cash to me unsolicited, but they probably had to pay more postage to do it.

What my luck is like

When we bought the house, the inspector pointed out the way the wire bringing magical electricity and all its wonders into our house was totally frayed. Not the wire itself so much as the insulation that surrounds the wire, but it's still not really the way you want it to be.

I showed it to a certain handy husband of a friend of mine and he shrugged it off with an "I've seen worse. In fact, I have worse on our building downtown." This was sort of reassuring, but I was still not happy with it. Then I had this unemployed electrician recommended by Jeremy's coworker come over to look at the overall electrical picture and I told him about that exterior wire. When he went out to look at it, he said, "I've had people tell me things were frayed and they usually aren't so bad, but that really needs to be taken care of." Fine.

So I called an actual electrician (not one who failed the test "by only 2 questions") and he came out to look at it. After he had a minor freak out about how those pansies at the electric company were going to want to move the meter onto the front of the house because they are afraid of a little snow falling on their heads (or something to that effect) and how it was going to look terrible and I should give them a hard time blahblahblah, he said he needed to set up a schedule with them and get back to me. That took months. Over 2 months.

So they set up a time and he told me it would be a thousand dollars and would involve no power in the house for 6 hours. The original estimate he gave me was about $700. So I called him on it and he said, "Hold on, let me do the math, oh yeah, it'll probably be about $650. Where did I come up with $1000?" Man, I do not know the answer to that question.

Well, I get up early on the appointed day so that I can have a shower and do all those wonderful things that require electricity only to have him call and cancel because of the snow. I was a little annoyed. So, the work was rescheduled for tomorrow. Our forecast is calling for 2-4 inches of snow tonight plus sleet and freezing rain all day tomorrow. I called him today to find out if we should just go ahead and assume it isn't happening tomorrow. He says, "You were pretty annoyed last week, so I don't want to cancel if I don't have to. You're not having very good luck with this, are you?"

That's where he's wrong, because every week they have to delay it is another week that $650 stays in my hands, not theirs.

A Tale of Two Knitties

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to knit in two very different knitting circles.

The first was more of a knitting triangle, consisting of me, Amanda, and Allegra trying to knit at my house amidst toddler chaos. Two 2 year olds and one newly 3 year old are not ideal knitting companions. It was like knitting in a room full of kittens. We made a little progress all the same, and enjoyed each other's company and some yummy bagels and muffins.

The second was the knitting circle (more of a rectangle because of the table) at the local yarn store. Generally, I think it is a nice way to escape for an hour and a half a week. I am also often surprised by who I see there. But last night, I had to listen to several of the group's members express their deep and abiding love for Scrubs and how it is one of the best written shows on TV. One person said, "It makes TV worthwhile." I bit my tongue. And I also realized that the owner has a really (or should I say reawwy) bad habit of using baby talk in general conversation with other adults. It makes my skin crawl. But I did get a lot of my knitting done.

So, on the one hand, I was trying to knit while Dorian was dive bombing from a table to the couch and tangling himself in my yarn, and on the other I was listen to someone say, "She shouldn't go outside, it's fweezing. It's fweezing out there."

Which would I rather experience again? I'll take the toddlers any day. At least they are supposed to talk like that.

I guess that's why they call them "Doorbuster" sales

How crazy is this story about the guy being trampled to death in a Wal-Mart? Do you really need their poorly manufactured goods so badly that you actually need to kill someone to get to them? The worst part of the whole tragic tale is that shoppers were refusing to leave even though someone was dead and there was an investigation going on. Good gravy!

Maybe it wasn't the nicest thing to do...

But I don't think you can blame me much. See, earlier in the week, mother of the Children Across the Street (who are similar to the Children of the Corn) tells me that she forgot to drop off an invitation to the youngest's birthday party which was happening today. I noncommittally told her I wasn't sure what we were doing but I'd let her know. (Read: not going. Nuh-uh. No way in hell.) I hoped that was the end of it.

I had no real intention of going. Those kids make me feel "ooky" as my grandmother would say. The youngest came over to play again Thursday (because I can't possibly take Dorian out to play without someone showing up). This time she wore no shoes or a coat again but at least it was 45 degrees. Her face is covered in crust and her lips are chapped from smearing her runny nose with her shirt since Jews don't believe in tissues. I suspect they also don't believe in laundry detergent, but I have no proof of that.* So she starts asking why Sebastian won't come out to play. I told her he was at school. "Why?" she asks, "It's boring." I said, "Have you ever been to school?" "No. I'm home schooled. That's because we're Jewish. I'm a Jew. But I'm not sure if you are."** Now, either her parents are filling her head with lies or she thinks everything she does has to do with her religion. Either way, I'm getting tired of it.

The last thing I wanted to do was have my family involved with a 3 hour party to which only one other child was being invited. I certainly didn't want to be in a house where there may not be toilet paper, nor did I want to send my children alone into that lion's den, so I decided to play the avoidance game. "I'll just pretend I forgot" was the preferred strategy. No such luck.

As I'm plating dinner last night, she comes knocking asking whether we'd be coming. Jeremy mumbles something while Sebastian announces he's "organically grown-- straight from the banana patch." I steadfastly continue to prepare the meal, trying to pretend she isn't 10 feet away from me outside my kitchen door. Finally, Jeremy says, "You don't really need to know right now, do you?" and she left.

So despite the fact that I just wanted a lazy weekend at home, we had to come up with somewhere to be for the whole afternoon. I didn't want to be a complete asshole, so I went over to let them know we wouldn't be coming before we headed to another state. Lucky for me, the speech-impaired boy came out just as I stepped in their yard so I gave the message to him. Whether his mother could understand it or not is none of my concern.

*This particular family, not Jews in general.
**I'm not, but my husband Jewremy might be.

Most ridiculous thing I heard all day

At the Kindergarten registration, after Sebastian, along with 10 other kids, had been under observation for an hour or so.

Me: I would prefer that he start in the 1st grade. What is your opinion?

Kindergarten teacher: My gut says he should start in K. We get a lot of fluent readers in K.* Because, really, if you miss out on that social component, it can never be made up. But the other kids always catch up academically.

*Exactly the opposite of what I was told in February.

_____________________________________________________

Imaginary diatribe directed toward the aforementioned teacher.

Okay, first of all, you are suggesting that Sebastian is somehow socially inept. As if he is incapable of relating to other people and especially children his age and younger. And second of all, have you even met anyone in this world? There are a hell of a lot of people out there that are decades older than my almost 6 year old who are unable to read as well as he can. They obviously "caught up academically". And there are also a lot of socially retarded people that have attended Kindergarten and it apparently didn't do them any favors. And you cannot tell me that the entire 1st grade class is full of impeccably well-behaved, well-mannered children and that Sebastian will be the only one bumbling around because he didn't spend a year sitting in a room full of 5 year olds being taught letters and colors and shapes that he has known since he was 15 months old. It is not his fault that you have a completely arbitrary age requirement. The boy next door just moved here from CT and is 11 days younger than Sebastian, but he gets to be in 1st grade because the cut-off date in CT is different so he could go to K last year. And I'll tell you what... he is not any more socially capable than my child. He just happened to be in the right state at the right time.

___________________________________________

And the worst part of all this, besides the fact that I am trying to completely remodel a house in 3 days at the same time I'm dealing with this bullshit, is that I don't even really want to send him. Why would I when this is what I get from these people?

Now I have to call the principal at 8am tomorrow to try to convince him to accept Sebastian into 1st grade. School starts a week from tomorrow. Will they have time to test him? Will they even bother offering that option? Who knows, since they have been too lazy to call me back or try to set anything up. The principals of the three elementary schools apparently get together tomorrow for their little draft process where they discuss who will take which children. "I'll take the dyslexic and the stutterer if you'll take the kid with the obnoxious mom." I can't wait to find out if we get picked!

Conversation with the neighbors

I was on the porch, painting the bookcase I snagged for free last week. The upstairs neighbors walk up to go inside.

Neighbor: Oh, are you painting that for the boys?

Me: I don't know who it will be for yet.

N: It's blue.

M: Yes, it is.

N: That's good for boys.

M: Yes, well, I got it free from next door and I haven't decided where to put it yet.

N: I heard him on the phone saying people had taken things from their house.

M: Yeah, well this was on the sidewalk with a sign that said "Free". [I swear I didn't steal it. Christine can confirm this.] By the way, could you do me a favor and keep your garbage can outside? [They had it at the top of the stairs.] It's been pretty warm lately...

N: Sure. We've been living in Hinsdale.

M: *confusion* *continue to paint*

N: Thanks for bringing in that letter for me. It was my tickets!

M: Oh? What are you going to see?

N: Wrestling! At the [venue in NH].

M: Really?

N: I'm going to get to see Triple H!

M: That's exciting for you!

N: Yeah! Oh, and we're going to have a party tomorrow. But you probably won't notice because on 4th of July, everybody's up to the crack of dawn. See you later!

M: Bye.

Incompetence, I'm sure of it

Things that lead me to believe that the listing agent for the house is incompetent:

1. Did not bring appropriate informational paperwork to initial viewing.
2. Told me the house had been purchased in 1930s when the deed revealed a purchase date of 1951.
3. Told Jeremy the son who pasted the cars to the wallpaper had moved out 58 years ago. This is obviously wrong because a) they didn't own the house then and b) most of the cars are model year 1954 or later. Although, Jeremy thinks he may have had access to newspapers from the future.
4. Did not bring all of the paperwork to the second viewing, just half.
5. Despite a clause in our purchase offer delivered yesterday requiring their decision by 5pm tomorrow, was not planning to discuss it with them until tonight.

I don't know, maybe she doesn't really want to sell the house. I'm sure they want to continue to deal with an empty house which left unsold for much longer they will be responsible for maintaining the lawn of and heating this fall/winter.

The longest morning

It is done.

I dropped off the paperwork and a check and potentially signed my life away this morning. Jeremy tried to sign his life away exactly one year in the future, but I corrected that for him. I'm nice that way. Besides, if he thinks he gets to wait a year and see how it all shakes out, he's got another think coming. It's his money I'm spending, after all.

I'm not going to embarrass you (or myself) with the details of the roller coaster my stomach has been riding. Nor will I give you the details of today's transaction. (I wouldn't want you to have a realistic idea of how much money you could hit us up for.) But I will tell you that despite the promise of lollipops for good behavior at the myriad errands this morning required, my kids acted like complete hellions at every stop.

Dorian especially had the devil in him (surprise, surprise), running off at every opportunity. First, he took off into the bowels of the cubicles at the oil company while one of the women yelled at me, "There's a stairwell back there, ma'am!" Great. He runs off, but I get yelled at and called "ma'am". This was followed by his refusal to hold hands to cross the street, resulting in my grabbing his sleeve in a very unflattering way. Off to the post office, the post office I try to avoid as much as possible because of one particular clerk who shall henceforth be referred to as "Dummy". Dummy has both offered a year-old Dorian Star Wars stamps (because he should have known who Darth Vader is, right?) and, when asked for the cheapest possible delivery of $1.79, kept trying to upsell me to the $22 next day delivery. Today, Dummy's genius plan to make my morning even worse topped everything he'd ever done before. I'm next in a very long line. A woman comes from the back, opens a register, then disappears again. Dorian and Sebastian choose this time to "play chase". I snatch Dorian up as he swings by again, and the customer at Dummy's desk finishes and walks away. Dummy looks up at me and I walk over, foolishly believing he intends to help me. Ha ha. Dummy says, "I need to fill out this form before I go to lunch." And puts up his "next window please" sign. And starts filling out the form right there. Leaving one window open. Unbelievable.

And did I mention that after we finally got home Dorian started chanting what sounded like "Six six six" over and over again? I kid you not.

A day for bad news

It all started today with a sad phone call informing me of a loved one's heart attack. (I do not care to share more than that in this post.)

Not to totally demean that sad event, but then I got an upsetting email from Jeremy about a local establishment that we frequent. There is a farm where we pick our berries, which also started selling ice cream last year. And not just any ice cream, but the most wonderful ice cream I have ever had. I can not describe how amazing this stuff is, so I won't even try. But, basically, we have been waiting all winter for the stand to reopen. He went online to find out when that wonderful day would be (not knowing that I just drove by yesterday and made a note) and found their horrifying website. I'd always been curious about the large RV parked next to the house, but that's not so unusual around here.

Well, it turns out they use the gas guzzler to travel the country spreading their "God and Country" gospel. They even have a puppet show.

I should have known. First, there was the explosion of country craft excrescence that populated the newly expanded stand. Then at the end of last summer, they were not shy about saying that Sebastian shouldn't be wearing a dress (as if it's any business of theirs) and it made me really mad. But that ice cream...

Well, they can forget about seeing a penny of our income go to their creepy little ministries and close-minded nonsense. As if I didn't have enough to worry about.