Saying yes...

It feels like you should have known...

I had one of those days a number of months back... one of those days where you know you should probably just stay under the covers. I had a new painting class starting. Most of the usual suspects were going to be missing this session due to travel or health issues. Actually, we were all supposed to be missing this session since the newer powers that be had held hard and fast to the "must meet minimums for a class to run" rule. I had warned and warned some more... class was not going to happen as we were only going to have 5 people. I wasn't that worried, knowing enrollment would pick up for future sessions. I was actually looking forward to a break. I needed some extra freedom in my schedule due to other things in my life that needed my attention... but then my boss did something insane and decided to run the class... with two people, one of whom would not be able to make it due to a bad reaction to anesthesia. I had told my boss I needed the break, but no... she decided I'd be doing a lesson for one. While the person who came to class was wonderful... she really didn't want any painting instruction. It was going to be a long 6 weeks.

Anyhow, that first day, I realized I had no clean painting clothes. No problem, I had time to do a fast, small load... it was just the washer decided to stop, not once, but twice. Same for the dryer. By the time I finally got things washed, the dryer would not stay on. These are relatively new machines. It was bizarre. 4 hours later, I managed to have a damp pair of painting clothes to wear. I went to load up the car when my dogs decided jumping up on the door would be a good idea thus shutting it. Of course the door was locked. Of course the emergency key was not in its spot. Of course my house keys were inside, in my purse, with my phone, and my car fob. Of course it was starting to rain. I ditched my uber-heavy painting bag on the patio and hoofed it to work, luckily having my work key in my coat pocket. I also knew YL would get home before me, so she'd have her keys... I'd get back inside. I just didn't think of what it would look like to her when she got home. There'd be my purse, phone, keys, etc, on the table, and my painting bag on the patio, car in the driveway,  but no me! I came home to find a tearful YL on the phone with her father telling him I'd been kidnapped.

The day had other weirdness, but I'll briefly summarize the ending by saying the father we always joked about being a perv, was actually arrested for being a perv. All attention went to news stories about that.

Flash forward to the present. Grizzled and I had been commenting off and on how we had not heard from a longtime friend for a while. She hadn't returned my email... her landline was disconnected... not that odd as her cellphone was still taking messages, but none were returned. She was a lone wolf type so it wasn't unusual to not hear from her for a few months. Still, something wasn't sitting right. I finally remembered to enter her middle initial into a google search the other day and found out she'd been killed in a car/pedestrian accident... almost 4 months ago, on that totally messed up day. Had it not been for all of the perv news, we would have heard about the accident, would have known it was right by her place, and would have thought to check on her sooner, but we missed it. It feels so wrong to have known someone for 25 years and that they can die and you don't know it. I feel neglectful even though I know I've done nothing wrong... it's just the way it is. In this world of hyper-connectivity, we still have our space. It's a blessing and a curse. Still, I wonder, were my washer and dryer trying to tell me? Were the dogs trying to tell me? Was the universe trying to tell me?? "Hey! This day is fucked because your friend was killed this morning! Pay attention!"

Most of us don't blog anymore, or at least not like we did... and even when we were checking in daily, I always remember thinking, we were connected, but we weren't really a part of a family/friend phone tree. People could die and we'd never know... not unless we hit it lucky with a morbid google search. It seems wrong. For all of our advancements over the centuries, it seems like we should have invented a way to let people know, but no, we're not much better off than we were a hundred or more years ago when people would move to far away locales and who knew if you'd ever hear from them again... Still, it seems like we should know.

RIP Maureen.

Wow...

Those of you looking for the nostalgia post, you can still find it here... I had to bump it though after seeing this... Wow.

Or forever hold your peace...

When I was a young lamblet, the Vietnam War was a regular feature on the evening news. I don't necessarily remember watching it, but I do remember it being on in the background... it was hard to miss, even for a kid who was distracted by other more important things such as toads, Liddle Kiddles, and was Frankenstein really buried under that big cement slab back in the woods... What I do remember noticing though was that this war seemed to be playing out in an area with no buildings. After seeing endless newscasts filled with jungle green, I came to the only conclusion I could... they must go somewhere with limited population in order to "have war"! Yes, that's it! Because if you're going to do something as silly as have a war, it would at least be best to have it in an area where there would be little collateral damage. No, it would be better to have some remote area designated as the fighting area, much like the corner of the rec room where my brothers were sent when they couldn't get along. You go to that area, free of items to be hurt by your flailing... you flail, and then you see the errors of your way and get back to life as you knew it. Yes, this made sense to my single-digit mind. It was a way for me to make sense of war.

And then I believe I shared this revelation with an adult... the next thing I remember, my father was showing me a photo or two of London after the Blitz. Once again, war made no sense. My mind tried to make sense out of what I was seeing, but there was no sense to be made. As Dylan Brody so succinctly puts it in his current post (go read it):

War cannot be waged decently. War cannot be waged or supported with clean hands or with a clean conscience.

War still makes no sense to me. What makes even less sense is that in 2012, it's still such a viable option.

I often wonder what my lamblets think of it, both of them older than I was when I first came to my "designated war area" conclusion... but I'm guessing it makes even less sense to them. Even though we now have a continuous news cycle, war and its ugly impact seems to be covered even less than some 40 years ago... the true impact so far removed from daily chatter... from anyone's chatter. Best to keep it quiet... best to keep shopping.

Update:

The comments made me remember this song/video...

Summer Blogging in One Post!

Garden. Garden. Flower. Butterfly. Fucking rain! Dog. Dog. Dog. Lake. Grizzled. Garden. Lamblet. Lamblet. Lamblet. Driver's Ed. AHHHHHHH! Lamblet. Hot! Too chilly! Wet! Where's the rain?!?! FUN!!! Woo-HOO!! Grrrr! WTF?? Still can't access any of ZRM's many blogs... 3B's! What contest?! Garden. Garden. Painting. Painting. Grrrr. Life is good. WTF??? Dick joke. Dick joke. Thought-provoking post. Dick joke. Garden. Animules. Painting! Grrrr... painting!!@!1 FRUSTRATION! In the zone. Fireflies!! Ah, summer smell. Butterflies! Orbs!!! Orbflies!! Thundra. Von. LOL! Garden. Dogs. Frustration. Satisfaction. Good. Bad. Love everyone. Hate everyone. Weeds. WEEDS! BG!! Lake. Reading. Thinking. Anniversary. Snag. Birthday. Cicadas. School? Already?

We interrupt this blissful animule programming...

... with a WTF???

Surrounded by Brilliance...

It's been a busy week or four. They're starting to blend. As the dust slowly suggests that it might be starting to settle, bits and pieces are coming back to me. One thing I just remembered again today... a lovely interaction with one of the bright bulbs I live around who said, as my youngest lamblet is preparing to leave elementary school:

"You know, your kids are doing really well considering how little you've been involved!!"

LOL!

I know! It's amazing they're not in jail considering how little I've been involved!! Other than actually being involved in their daily lives!!

Oh, I know what she meant. She meant I've not been an uber-PTA mother. I attemtped it years ago, but it was not for me... when I dove into those shark-infested waters, it was apparent it had more to do about the mothers than the kids. I volunteered where I could, where I felt my talents and services would be of most use, but otherwise, I've tried to steer clear. I do a few things each year that I feel will benefit... things that usually involve me interacting directly with the kids, not with many of the other mothers... once bitten, twice shy... but I am most definitely not one of those people who feels the need to live at school... who feels it doesn't count unless it's been seen by others and applauded.

So... my kids are an enigma. They do well in school, have a good sense of humor, are pretty well-grounded, are kind to others, and give every impression that they will be people who contribute to society. People don't get this. How can this be when I'm not spending 24/7 at school?? How can this be when I'm not involved?

Silly people. I am involved. I'm involved 24/7, it's just not on display for all to see. I'm involved in all of those quiet spaces where I feel it does the most good. I'm involved by showing up for them, not showing up for the other mothers at school. It also helps that the powers that be handed me a winning hand. I got good kids. I got easy stuff to work with. They would have turned out OK even if they had been raised in a crack house.

Teh Zombeh Plague Spreads....

Way back when... when lamblets were oh-so-young... and their parents were kind of young... said parents figured anything put away for college would be good... even if it was just a silly ol' state college plan... so there would be something... just something to start with... long gone were the days of parents paying out of pocket as my parents were fortunate enough to do, for all of their kids, back when tuition was still something that seemed reasonable, along with the price of a car and a CEO's pay... but those days were long gone... so the young parents (younger than some) figured they'd at least start with this... and it did ok... while other plans went under and class action suits abounded, theirs was OK... until today when Grizzled sent me this.

I suppose it shouldn't be a surprise. Nothing in politics or concerning money is really a surprise anymore. What really sucks though is that Grizzled just sent in the last payment for the youngest lamblet this morning... the Eldest Lamblet's having been finished just last year. Eleven years of payments possibly down the drain. Oh well... there are scholarships and loans and if that fails, there are fry badges at McDonald's.

Stuff is fucked up. Stuff has been fucked up for a while. I wish it would stop.

Until you show your birth certificate proving that you're God, you don't get to decide... OK???

EL recieves a monthly newsletter from a program she's in at school... a program for kids who scored on the upper edges of testing and who might benefit from extra activities and connections... so far the newsletters and the program has been hit or miss, but it's early. If anything, she'll be able to say she was in the program which will benefit her when trying to get into colleges.

Today's newsletter had an interview with an admissions professional at a noted university. I won't name it, but I believe Mr. Thundra went there... (Mr. Thundra will be thankful he went there then... and not now...)

In said article, the admissions person said something to the effect that she looked at all social networking when deciding if and when a person would be accepted. I'm not worried about EL. As I've often said, she was 50 when she was born and probably has more sense than most. What EL did say though was, "That's not really fair. I'm guessing that the admissions person did even more than most people do now (EL has heard rumor about freer days), but had the benefit of it not being documented!"

She had a point...

She went on to say how in this day and age, you're expected to share everything... which made me realize my generation had something over the teenagers of today. We had the safety of discretion by default. We also have failing memories on our side. I know I was more poorly behaved than EL when in high school (while still receiving stellar grades!!)... Grizzled was FAR WORSE! We just have no public record... only hazy memories which can be denied when the need arises. "Mom! So and so was an asshole!! I never did that! I mean, really! Come ON!!!"

It also had me thinking though... if Ms. Admissions did have a sketchier past, why not be more forgiving of those coming in who are too open and honest about their activities?? There's got to be a tipping point when we accept that almost anyone had a sketchier past and we get past it...  Of course, there's always one person who was more lily white, and this person is most likely your admissions officer...

So... if she did not have a sketchier past and was truly one of those few who walked the straight and narrow every time, don't you think she's probably in the minority?? And when will the minority stop getting to decide what's right for the majority?? Frankly, I'm kind of tired of it. I'm kind of tired of having what are really normal experiences and then being told I am denied access to the real world due to those experiences. Frankly, I think I live in the real world... everyone else? I'm not so sure. I think they might be living in a fairytale and they're the ogre.

This is not a waste-free post... it will waste your time...

We have approximately 10 more waste-free lunch days until I am free... YL will be leaving elementary school and we will finally be free from the militant waste-free lunch mother wardens who have turned me into an evil being... a being who once loved the Earth, but who now does spiteful stuff just because.

Waste-free lunch has been a burr under my saddle for years now. It used to be it was just one a month and anyone can handle anything for one day a month... plus it was for a good cause. We were teaching our kids how to reduce the waste that goes into landfill... (never mind that Grizzled and I do this on a daily basis. We've learned that nothing really counts unless it happens at school.) Of course, this message wasn't important enough on its own, no there had to be prizes. Kids need to get prizes for their participation. Grizzled and I often discussed the waste that went into making those Oriental Trading Co. prizes, not to mention them being waste themselves, but hey, let's not confuse things with the facts.

I think the thing that has frosted my ass the most since the inception of waste-free lunch days were the random rules, decided on the day by whichever militant mother volunteer showed up, exercising the power that she so missed in other areas of life. Waste-free lunch seemed to be one of those carnival games you never won and the child was then shamed for killing the planet.

During EL's years, I purchased a multi-compartment lunch container that took care of all items to go into her lunch. Did El get her prize? Hell no... I received a note one time that the rules were, there must be at least 2 reusable containers in the lunch. She only had one... never mind that ALL of her lunch items fit into this one ecologically sound container. She needed to bring two. I debated with them over this, but they refused to see my point and I refused to not use the container I had specifically purchased for waste-free lunch day. EL still has scars, but is not alone...

Sometime during YL's years at this school, waste-free lunch day became a weekly event. I upped my prescription for ulcer medication at this point, but continued to try and run the waste-free gauntlet set up by the new batch of mothers in charge... It seemed they had lightened up on the 2 or more container ruling so I thought I was home free... not to mention, I always use a metal spoon in her lunch. Her lunches were waste-free... until I got the notice about the cloth napkin. It seems it didn't matter now that her lunches were packed in waste-free containers and that she had a reusable spoon, I was including paper napkins, which I might add, are recycled napkins. I should have used a leaf.

But still, EL explained to me that I must continue to try as the shame of not having the perfect waste-free lunch weighs heavy on a young soul, and although she liked to bust her sister's chops, she didn't want someone else doing it. Cloth napkins it would be. I could do that. But... I also found myself rebelling in baaaad ways. Instead of buying a large container of apple sauce, I'd buy the individually wrapped ones... open one and put it into a reusable container. This gave more glee than it should have, but I am a sick individual when pushed to it... I did it with other things as well... sending in the supposedly waste-free lunch with a wicked, knowing smile. Screw the Earth I loved so much! Spite was so much BETTER!

The final straw (plastic straw!) came the other day when I was packing YL's waste-free lunch and asked her to get me the beatific cloth napkin. She said to just use a paper one, she didn't care... for one thing, they don't hand out prizes anymore, they just write "WF" on your hand with a marker. Grizzled chimed in at this point and said they forgot the T that goes in between... YL said she wouldn't even get that anyhow because she drinks milk from school... a milk contract that we purchase in the beginning of the year... milk that is ordered specifically for the number of kids with a contract. I was missing something. Why would that enter into what she brought from home?? She said the mother told her the milk did not come in a waste-free container and therefore, she did not have a waste-free lunch. We explained to her that it would be more wasteful if all kids who normally drank this milk did not on this given day. She said she understood, and just didn't care. She didn't care anymore. Hooray... they successfully killed what should have been a good thing in my kid's mind and in mine. Instead of encouraging any form of reducing waste, they made it impossible to do a good job. Did I mention, we'll only have about 10 of these left?!?! I can't wait.

In the meantime, Grizzled has been reeling off suggestions for the ultimate waste-free lunch... "How about we send her in with a live cow! That would reduce packaging and waste! The mothers can butcher it there in front of the kids and serve it for lunch! RAW!! So we don't waste energy cooking it!!!"

I believe another suggestion was sending her in without any lunch since any form of lunch involves some form of waste, including bodily waste... Can't have that... can't get WF marked on your hand if you poop.

Have I mentioned?? I'm so ready to be done with this...

Casting a pall

A student at EL's school decided he was done. He took his life last week. He was not a friend of EL's, but kids in her classes knew him and said he seemed "normal". I've had brushes with this before. I lost a cousin to suicide. I lost a good family friend to suicide. I've had dark days when the thought entered my own head, but thankfully, it never lingered.

I don't know what it is about this particular boy... perhaps it's having kids around the same age, but it just makes me sick. No one should have to feel that alone, that hurt, that done... especially someone who should have everything ahead of them. I know it's hard to see ahead when you haven't had enough life yet to realize life moves on, but still, it just breaks my heart to think of a child as feeling that bad... and I can't even imagine what his parents must be feeling. There will never be enough answers, that I know... even as things come to light in the days to come. There will never be enough answers.

In the meantime, I hug my lamblets, and thank the powers that be that they seem happy and I pray to whomever, or whatever will listen, that they always will be... and will never hurt as much as that poor boy... and that if they do, that I'll know they're not feeling "normal" and will be able to help.