Sunday, June 27, 2010

In My Opinion (Commentary from Middlest)

(Middlest speaks for herself in answer to my previous post)

Hi, I am Middlest, as described in several of my mom’s posts. Yes, I did fail AP Lang. Yes, I refused to do my work. Yes, I drew instead of working with people who dislike me greatly (my teacher Constantly placed me in a group with these particular individuals who didn't even understand what we were working on). I don't like analyzing things, because, honestly, I highly doubt the writer intended that rock or hairbrush to have any real significant meaning. Also, as my mom said, I finished the reading assignments in days. The teacher didn't even give us the assignments to go along with it until she decided we were at that particular point. This bothers me greatly. I finish a book, I remember the main and even average details. Then two months later she tests me on "what shoes were Daisy wearing and why were they significant to the story". I find this utterly ridiculous. But, really, it isn’t even as simple as that. My frustration is deeply seeded.

I have always been a reader; I love books and words passionately. I can read up to three books (average sized, 200 page range) a day if I’m in the mood. I’ve probably spent more time reading than anything else. At some point I discovered writing. The first instance was in the third grade, when my teacher adored a story I wrote. I didn’t think much of it then, I just wrote like my then favorite author, Brian Jacques (side confession, I still read his books). Then in sixth grade, I wrote a poem in my Language Arts class. My teacher (a lovely woman who I still admire and look up to) had me read it in front of the class. When I finished, she said “It looks like we have a poet in the class”. Something clicked. I began to write and write and write. Nonstop. I loved it. I’d found a new way to use the words I loved so dearly. My teacher put me into her advanced writing class. (I attended a middle school designed for the arts, though I was there for orchestra, having been a cellist back then.) She became my idol and I went out of my way to impress her. I wanted her to praise my writing. It made me feel accomplished at something. She seemed to enjoy my work, which just fed my love for writing.

So, as most of the kids in my writing class did, I decided to go the arts high school for writing. I thought it would be the same and my teachers would be just as lovely as my wonderful mentor. But I quickly discovered how wrong I was. Where I had freedom in middle school, I was placed in a box here. My new writing teacher was a rather odd, scary man who preached contemporary writing. Everything was cliché, using big, beautiful words was a sin in his writing congregation. My writing freedom was yanked from beneath my feet. There I had to copy other writers who, in my opinion, were quite awful. The poetry I used to enjoy became torture, for I knew the next day it would be torn to shreds by competitive, arrogant freshmen who wanted to please the almighty King of Contemporary Literature. Here is where my hatred for every pin and thimble having sacred meaning became rooted. We were required to have“intent” with every piece. Slowly but surely, I began to cringe at the very thing I had loved.

I was also in an essay writing class, with a different teacher. The Grammar-Nazi Supreme. I’ve never been one for non-fiction, so I was already out of my comfort zone. She decided to “deprogram” us from standardized testing essay styles we’d been taught all our lives. So, were we to return to normal society where standardized testing ruled, we would be inevitably doomed. I didn’t do well in the class, and her constant criticism, telling me I didn’t want to be there, wilted and broke me down.

So, due to my stubborn nature and hatred for this confined box they kept me in, I ended up failing out of the school. I entered our local public school. (Having spent four years in the sheltered world of the magnet program, I was terrified.)

Now, two years later, I have failed AP Lang, much to the surprise of everyone. Simply, I didn’t want to do it anymore. I spent the first nine weeks kissing butt and showing off. For the first time, I received no acknowledgement for knowing my way around the English world. I could spend whole class periods being the only one to answer questions, but still there was not even a smile from the woman at the head of the class. So I shut down. I already knew most of what was being taught, so doing the work didn’t bring me any sense of accomplishment. I usually looked to praise in order to achieve that. In the absence of praise, I didn’t see the point in bothering anymore. I read the assigned books. I took the tests. That was the extent of it though. I could get much more satisfaction out of the two hours by drawing something beautiful, rather than reading and “analyzing” yet another essay on feminism or eating babies.

So, I admit to failing, and it being my fault. But I’m not ashamed of failing. It’s not because I’m stupid. Or I didn’t understand. The class just went too slowly for my taste. If I bothered to do the work it took me a matter of minutes. There is no achievement in it, so there was no point. I felt it was a waste of time, and yes, I did have to sacrifice three or four days of my summer for it. And a vacation. Which I’m sorry for. But what’s done is done, and I still would rather be drawing.

(As for my GPA and college, there is concern, but I, this may so like arrogant teenager speaking and it may be, usually figure something out in situations like these. I have another year. I’ll make good grades. And see where that gets me. Otherwise, it’s just a couple classes. If I have to do it again, I’ll do it again. If I can’t make it into college, I’ll figure something else out. Sure life will be a little harder, but really, it’d be hard either way.)

 -Middlest, the Oblivious

And there you have it! Motpg.

© 2010 All Rights Reserved

Saturday, June 26, 2010

Brag, Nag or just cry a little bit?

 As some of you may know Middlest is a super smart girl who rocks the Language Arts but......only if she feels like it. She just (almost) finished Junior year in high school where she was in an AP or college level Language Arts & Comp. class . She chose to be in this class rather than an easier one because she had the qualifications to take it. She has been submerged in this subject since 6th grade including extra writing and literature classes through 9th grade while she attended  a school for the arts. She transferred to a regular high school sophomore year.

Let's put it this way:

Her eighth grade class voted her most likely to become a Dictionary Editor!
Halfway through the year she decided to take a vacation. She said she had been doing this stuff since 9th grade and she was just sick of it. She was in class every day. She read all the assigned books and finished them in days while the rest of the class took weeks to read through them and do assignments in sections. She didn't do the accompanying work. I think she drew pictures instead. If she didn't do well on a test her excuse was: "I finished it almost two months ago how am I supposed to remember all the details now. She should have just given me the test when I finished the book."
If I suggested she just take her time and do it along with the class in stages her answer was: "Why? It's stupid. I'd rather just get it finished."

Early in the year I contacted her teacher by email about some issues she would face with Middlest and the best way to deal with her and tactics for getting the most out of her. I tried to give her a clear understanding of how Middlest operates from things Middlest has told me herself ( For instance she does not work well in groups and is capable of meltdowns when trying to deal with others ) and from what I have experienced while raising my child for 16 years. I told her that I expected Middlest to take responsiblity for herself and that I would not be hovering and passing the class for her but that I would be "paying attention to what her assignments are and whether she was keeping up" . I told her that Middlest would be obtuse and (tried to find a nice way to describe) arrogant and at the same time she thrived on praise but that she would flat out quit if she felt discouraged in her efforts. The answer I received-contradicted me,- "the quotes are my thoughts",- with an opinion on how she knew the kids should be responsible but sometimes just needed a little push, "no sh*t " and  that she seemed upset at working in a group the other day but appeared to get over it, "because she started drawing instead of doing the assignment," and that she could send home more progress reports if I like to keep up with how she was doing. "Can you read?"  So ok, never mind, waste of time. I'll be reasoning with and grounding her when necessary on principle even though it's pointless on this end while we just sit back and watch her fail your class.

The classes were concentrated on analyzing and finding meaning in the works and writing essays. Middlest often takes a different turn from what is accepted as obvious. She has very strong opinions and she isn't going to change them because someone else sees things another way. She is Masterful in composing essays.  She knows what the teachers are looking for but often she would rather get an F than compromise her own reasoning. She will enjoy arguing her point if it is taken in to consideration. She will not concede to another point if it is a matter of interpretation. Her reasoning, this IS what it means to ME. Therefore it can't be incorrect "for me".
  As an exaggerated example: If she decided Tom Sawyer was really an Alien she would write a perfectly executed essay with precise details and clear reasoning on how she came to this conclusion.
   So anyway.....If she is not getting credit because she is asked to write an essay that asks for an interpretation and then her opinion is deemed wrong she gets an attitude.  She will read the assigned work and skip doing all the assignments and just pass any technical tests because honestly she did learn all this stuff 3 years ago and she really is tired of it.

The result; She failed the second semester. Her final exam score was a 36%. Do I believe she scored this badly? I actually am not so sure. She has never scored that low on any test and she said that she wasn't presented with much she wasn't familiar with and was truly surprised with that grade. If she had done well on the test she would have passed the class with a D. Perhaps the grading was a matter of interpretation ; )
Did I question her score? No. It's possible she completely flubbed it but,
   She took her 1st round junior year SAT cold with no preparation or studying at all and scored Very Well.
 I will be very interested next month to see what she scored on the official AP exam for the class that gives them college credit if they pass it. It is a very difficult test and I am told they usually don't do well when they take them in Junior year but it's good practice.
  So while I am very proud of her smarts I am also frustrated as hell with her behavior.
She sat around while other students worked their butts off. She deserved some kind of repercussion. I don't know if her teacher felt this too or if the protocol was that a D would have set her GPA low and passing summer school which is a standard class would give her a much higher score in the end.
I didn't question it because of the reasons above.

She did summer school for math a couple years ago and really didn't care that she had to. Now she is older and had a little more to lose, like time with her boyfriend, OR Like our family vacation. Which we now cannot take because the classes started the only week we would have free. We are not always able to go on one but thought we could manage it this year. ( digression while I take a moment to weep in self pity) I am lucky to live where I do. Other people come to places like this for vacation. But I am ungrateful. I have been wading through heat and humidity 8 months of the year for my entire life. Endless greenery with no change in scenery. If I never saw another palm tree in my life I would be pleased. The first time I remember seeing a mountain I was 8 years old and I fell in love. I have been pining ever since. The thought of it can bring tears to my eyes. But no.
(We had to think of something else to amuse us and keep us busy, more about that next week)

Summer school is an online course where they can work at their own pace but are required to attend 3 hours at school in the morning and estimate at least 3 to 4 hours a day will be necessary from home afterwards to complete the course within 6 weeks.

I thought that since I was not getting out of here for awhile (which can seriously make me insane) she really deserved to have to get up early and be in class at 7 a.m. and spend her days doing English since she seemed to think she was above it. I figured if we were going to suffer she certainly Deserved To Suffer too. No sleeping in, No beach. School night hours. Pay for being a slacker. Since it was only one semester it probably wouldn't take her the whole time but at least she would be learning a lesson.

So she started the course this Monday and she called me an hour early Friday to pick her up because......
she was finished....
She scored an A. If she had goofed off for the entire year she could have fixed it in Gasp!...2 Weeks!

This whole thing is ridiculous. It was 1st come 1st serve and always ends with a waiting list so I knew to be there early to sign her up. Some kid who is really struggling could have used that seat. Hopefully one will get in without being a week behind making it more difficult. She also did ok in math this year but is very weak in the subject and would have benefited more from extra work in that.

4 1/2 months of slacking fixed by 4 1/2 days of work.
Just long enough to lose my vacation.

What did this experience teach her?

That She Really Does Know It All

She piddled around in Chemistry most of the year and passed  because this teacher has some radical ideas about individual learning and when he saw she wasn't participating and would certainly fail the class he actually accomodated her with extra credit work that would draw her interest, within his syllabus. She managed to ace the final and her teacher gave her extra classwork points for drawing him a frameable quality comic strip titled:

" How to Fail Chemistry."

Her German 2 teacher did everything he could by giving her extra points every time she wore cowboy boots to school and we had a pretty decent winter to give her the chance to wear them but not often enough, so that didn't work out too well. She will be giving up an elective next year to retake the class.

Bragging about her smarts doesn't make her use them. Nagging about her smarts doesn't slightly move them.
And yeah, I tried crying too but that didn't work either......

Someone tell me you have horribly frustrating kids too......otherwise I'll just keep whining.....because we have a whole Senior year to get through......

UPDATE: She made a qualifying grade on the AP exam. She passed it.

© 2010 All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Wordless Wednesday

What Happens When You Leave Littlest Alone With Food

© 2010 All Rights Reserved
 Protected by Copyscape plagiarism checker - duplicate content and unique article detection software.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Is this how it will be someday....

Almost Too Quiet

this morning with them away. The house not echoing with the static of words flung careless or pointless or to the point in a room away. No airwaves disturbing the serenity of electrical impulses uninterrupted. A pond surface unbroken until like single raindrops ripples flow out from my footsteps as I cross the room. And like a sudden summer shower stop abruptly when I halt. I wait for all vibration to subside and listen. And once again the pulse upon my eardrum slows like a heart fading in to rest and sleep in utter silence.

© 2010 All Rights Reserved

Saturday, June 19, 2010

My Father I Hope In Heaven

Since this is the first year of my blog I have been putting down the past. Keeping things I want to remember. So like Mothers Day this Fathers Day goes to My Dad.

My dad was not a talker. His past before becoming a father came out in short sentences usually only to direct questions. He didn't want to talk about it. I have a bunch of tiny puzzle pieces of information that don't fit. Now that I'm older it is maddening. We did learn that at 17 he walked away from a college scholarship to study art and joined the navy to serve in the Pacific during WWII and later in Korea.
At some point it occurred to me that I only had one Grandparent. My moms mother. The answer, my grandmother died when he was two. He was born in Rhode Island and later was raised in Boston mostly by her family members. His father was merchant marine and was gone a lot. He said for awhile he was passed around until a particular aunt and uncle said they would keep him. Another time I vaguely remember him mentioning a mother who was mean, locked all of his toys up in a closet so there wasn't a mess. This was confusing . Did he really mean one of his aunts? Over the years only the least bit of information came from him. Some was supplied by my mom whose knowledge was limited also. I didn't realize I actually had a grandfather somewhere until I was older and it occurred to me to ask and was told that he had passed away when I was small. I remember being very confused. Why didn't I know this, why hadn't I met him? The answer from my mom, he wasn't a good father. Your Dad didn't speak to him. He had remarried. He had more children. I assumed this was later in my dads life when he was closer to adulthood. I have no idea who they are. My dad wanted nothing to do with him. I was told his first name and that his middle name was the same as my father but that his mother had wanted a different first name so my dad wasn't a junior.

I'm too cheap to join the genealogy thing. The last name is too common for it to be easy but My grandfathers first and middle name was unusual enough that I did find something just by regular Internet search. In the Providence Registrar I found my grandparents wedding registry. A year before my dad was born. A few years later I found a birth registry for a child. The father was my grandfather. The mother a woman I had never heard of. The child was named after the father. He was a junior. They had reused my fathers middle name. He would have been 6 years old.

The heartbreaking possibilities of this scenario just make me weep for my dad. Was he a little boy who was in the way? I had always assumed his father had pretty much deserted him because it was hard to raise a child alone but not this. When his dad remarried was he an uncomfortable reminder? Was he a kink in this new families dynamic. An unneeded son because now there was a new one. I wish I knew.

A man whose role model for Fatherhood was absent ended up with 5 children. He was overseas much of the time my brothers and sisters were little. A special visitor who came bearing wonderful gifts from other lands. Later he was present in all ways. We knew we were cared about and thought about and that he was always thrilled to see us coming. He was deeply proud when we did well. You could see it in his smile.Was quiet and sad when we did not. He rarely said anything, you could see it in his face.  In his later years nothing pleased him more than when everyone came over and met for a meal and visit.

He loved the movie Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Now that I'm old I wonder if there wasn't some deep psychological meaning in that too but probably it's just that it is a wonderful movie.

He was like a child at Christmas. He decorated every inch of the house. He shopped and wrapped and took immeasurable joy in gift giving. All he ever said he wanted was paint brushes.

I guess we were the family he never had as a kid.

No matter how old we became he was always Daddy. Even my brothers when they were grown. They may have addressed him as Dad but still "spoke of him" as Daddy.

As I mentioned before I sort of had a separate childhood. My parents were more relaxed or maybe it's worn out but I got away with a lot.

I have stand out memories that are like vignettes of moments that were mostly just between my father and I.

These are just some of my favorites.

When I was 4 I went to a nursery after school that was ok sometimes but run by a woman called Aunt Kate, who lorded over us with a fly swatter and ignored pleas for bathroom trips during naptime. Then was angry with the envitable results. I was a very shy kid but once rebelled against her power trip because I was sick of getting wet. I just couldn't hold it that long. She came racing in the bathroom with her fly swatter to see what I was up to. If I had known how I would have shot her a bird. Anyway....My Dad was a knight in shining white shirt who saved me every afternoon after being handed the bag with my wet tights and listening to the tirade. When we got in the car he pulled the Hershey bar out of his pocket and sweetened my day and spoiled my dinner on the way home.

Sweetness or Sneakiness?

I was around 14 and my dad brought home a gift. A friend at work had the hobby of making leather goods.
It was a leather visor. I said thank you. It wasn't really my style but I wasn't going to say anything. I looked at the pattern outlining the edge and then my eyes fell upon the imprint edging each side.......Pot Leaves.....Ok.
My dad asked, do you like that one? My friend thought you would but if not he has others. I was frozen. No, this is fine dad. I didn't want to hurt his feeling by pointing out his mistake and make him feel foolish. What was the guy he worked with thinking?
 Later I showed it to my brother. We couldn't help laughing but I had to get his opinion. The thing was, it crossed my mind, Was this a mistake? Or was it a trap? I still don't know. I hung it on a chair in my room and left it there until I moved out.


Back in the 80's we didn't have cable yet and there was a show called Friday night videos that came on late. One night I was up watching it and the Cars videofor the song, Drive. I heard footsteps quickly padding down the hall and my Dad appeared and asked me, "Who is that guy?"

"That's the Cars daddy, It's Benjamin Orr, do I have it up to loud? "

"No, he said, I was watching it in my room, I like this. That guy can really sing, he has a great voice."

I laughed and said, "yes he does, it is a good song." They are one of my favorite bands.
And then he wandered back down the hall.

What on earth was he doing watching rock Music Videos in the middle of the night? I have no idea.

Always A Daddy
When I was 17 someone broke my heart (I thought). My Dad came to pick me up from school and sitting on the seat between us was a funny little gray yarn cat. It was made in a loop with eyes stuck on it and a felt tonque sticking out. it was really cute. I got in the car. My dad just started driving. I waited. Nothing. Finally about halfway home I had to ask. "What is that?" "Oh that, a Lady where I work makes them so I bought one from her. You can have it if you want it."
Yes, I did. I still have it. I think this was a case of dad unsure what to do helplessness. "Will stuffed animals help when they cry when they are 17?"  Yes, they will.

Parent of 5 kids dealing with the last child's final teen years.
I was around 18. I had been out at a party and been thrown in a pool wearing all of my clothes including a hat, an English Driving Cap ( I was all about hats in those days) anyway.... When I got home I was still very damp. When I came in I was dismayed to see he was still up because....well because I was pretty much drunk. I decided to play it cool. I came in, said hi and made a bee- hopefully straight line to the couch where I sat down, damp hat and all, hoping he wouldn't notice my soggy ( in more ways than one) state and became engrossed in the show.

He sat there for several minutes and never even turned in my direction. He just watched the program and then he very calmly suggested to me.

"Don't you think maybe you ought to go to bed? "

So...I did. He never said another word about it. When I brought it up years later he laughed.

Still a concerned father.

When I said I was moving out to live with my future husband my dad actually used the "why buy the milk when you can get the cow for free phrase." But then he said my room would be there if I changed my mind and let me go. And didn't say a word a year and a half later when I dressed not only myself but the entire wedding party in white. Except my bridesmaid. She was already married and I dressed her like the scarlet woman.

  My Dad was a Catholic. He was raised Methodist and converted to marry my mother.
As an adult I joined that rebellious bunch The Lutherans and converted my mother. My father refused to go along with the rebellion. Even though he liked my church and pastor, "he already changed once and He Was Not doing it again."

  He died from heart disease in his seventies. A battle he began waging when I was ten. He was a fighter. But he was beginning to lose and chances are the oxygen to his brain was a little thin which might explain this.
  In the last weeks of his life I was visiting him in the hospital when a volunteer from the church was making rounds and giving communion.  I said, "I"ll go out in the hall dad if you would like privacy." He said,"No stay here" and then to the volunteer. "I don't need to take communion."

They looked a little confused. "Oh, has someone already been by? My dad just answered No.

I knew he was fighting the thought of death but things were not promising. The volunteer encouraged him again by reminding him that communion was an important rite. I think the kind of situation we were in was known and they felt that confession and communion were imperative. My fathers answer....

"I've been in the hospital, I haven't really had a chance to do anything wrong."

I think the volunteer must have been biting his lip at least as hard as I was as I met his eyes and raised my eyebrows. Because that could only mean one thing.

    That My Father..... Was Without Sin!!!!

After she left, I was kind of like, Um dad.... trying not to start giggling, communion is a nice way to be close to God even if you've been good. You don't necessarily have to do something bad to ask forgiveness and take communion.

"I guess your right, he answered. I'll get it next time."

I don't know if he did or not. But even if he didn't is there really any doubt in my mind that my Dad is in heaven?

Not One.

I believe The Father would never turn his back on a Son, or Daddy, like that.

© 2010 All Rights Reserved

Monday, June 14, 2010

Happy Birthday Week Sunshine!

My Biggest will be 23 by the end of this week. This beautiful and complex creation does not make me feel old but instead makes me believe in miracles. In a way Time seems to have sped straight through to today. In another way whole periods seem to have been in another lifetime all together.  A gift to us in 1987. One we thought we had lost to her mistakes but that was returned to us.

When I was 21 I never dreamed as far as this time. I only held tight, rocking and sang "your baby song", the phrase, "Please don't take my Sunshine away", never dreaming. Obviously someone was listening.

For she whose smile is so like the Sun radiating out to fall upon us that strangers are struck still and acquaintances moved to return to her presence bearing gifts.  When she says for her, a Birth-Day is not sufficient but Birthday Week should be celebrated, all are blinded and cannot help but agree that this must be so and search for ways to accommodate her. A week is more than worth the gift of your presence in our lives every day.

Though I am relieved you feel that you have grown out of Birthday Month.

Luv U My Sunshine!
This week I am listening to your "grown song".
Everyone knows the world revolves around you...even the know the words ; )

Coldplay   Yellow

Sunday, June 13, 2010

For Littlest!

You asked why you have not been featured on my blog lately but you know that I recently wrote a 2 foot long post that was practically your biography. However there is something I want to say to you.

Thank You.

This Certificate is Awarded to Littlest Grounded for Exhibiting Unprecedented and Un-Grounded Like Behavior While Attending Freshman Year in High School. This was a groundbreaking event within our family.
Congratulations For.......

Completing 9th Grade Without Incident!!!

For Not coming unglued and  Not exhibiting behavior including but not limited to:

Failing Classes
Failing All Classes and being required to attend summer school.
Becoming Intoxicated
Complete Self Destruction
Being Removed From School by Parents
Being Asked by School to Consider Attending School Elsewhere.

And also for doing a terrific job in a truly difficult school that I know takes a great deal of strength to succeed in.  You think you didn't do as well as you should have but I know the pressure there. I believe you had a personal goal in mind this year that you accomplished. You did great!
I might even forgive you for falling asleep during the luncheon at your schools Writers Guild event with Joyce Carol Oates as the key speaker while I was out of town and really wished I could have chaperoned that one. I had to consider disowning you for it but I guess the rest outweighs it because I am Extremely Proud of You!

Thank You Sweet Pea! I Truly and Deeply Appreciate It More Than I Can Express.

You are an Awesome Daughter !

 I Luv U

P.S. Ha! Spoke before I pushed that button didn't you. Didn't have it finished before you left Friday, was saving it for today. XP

© 2010 All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

The G Families Big Drug Store Adventure

Or. How many Grounded-s does it take to buy a pregnancy test. Or. How long does milk really last in a hot car. Or. I know it's Wednesday but would you seriously expect me to be wordless. However..

This post was written without any quotation marks because I don't feel like it. I didn't double check my other punctuation  either.

My Monday started pretty much as usual except for when the kids told me that morning, Oh by the way we get out early this week because it's the last week of school. I somehow missed this because they haven't done it before and I thought all the important stuff was over so I kind of lost interest and just looked forward to not waking up at 5 am....even though I will anyway.

Middlest informed me she would be out at eleven so I figured, ok, I would get her first then hit the grocery so that I could waste the morning playing on my blog. I then lost track of time until a quarter till when I had to hurry and get dressed to rush out the door. At 11 I texted,  leaving.  As I was pulling away she sent: you actually have 20 more minutes. Great. I was in the car so I decided to head to the store first. All I needed was a handful of things including milk and a frozen lasagna since I was planning ahead to not feel like cooking dinner.

As I headed in I get a text from Biggest. Please take me to the bank on my lunch hour.  She pulls this all the time and usually I say no because she works 2 blocks away from the bank and I'm trying to encourage her to learn how to drive but every now and then I do it just to humor her and visit for a few minutes. I told her it would have to be fast because I would have milk in the car. She said, I wanted to talk to you too. At this moment Middlest starts texting me again about getting a ride from someone else. I say, no because I'm already out and it will kill just enough time in between the store and picking up Biggest. I am wandering through he store stopping every two feet to field texts from both of them and at one point was so distracted I wandered away from the chicken legs even though I meant to buy them,  which turned out to be a good thing.  Biggest was being cryptic and Middlest was being a pain because they had wasted so much of my time that she was ready and I was still in the store.

I finally head out and get Mid and tell her to text Big and tell her we were on our way and to be ready because I have milk in the car. We pick her up and head to the bank and she says:
I kind of wanted to stop somewhere else too.
 What?? I have milk.
She says, I still don't feel good, how long is it usually before you can tell.

Digress to the conversation and question I had asked her a couple days ago when she said:
I don't know what's wrong with me. I've felt nauseated all week and all I want to do is eat tomatoes. And I'm so tired all I can do is sleep.
Yeah, that question, to which I got the reply
I don't know.
So I asked it again and got the same answer, so I asked....
Have you been being careful?
You don't need to know if I'm being careful.
To which I replied,  I guess we are going to the drug store. But make it fast, I have milk.
And Middlest asked, what are you talking about?
No answer, to which she replied, Oh.... you guys suck at keeping secrets.

So we pull up at the drug store and I say I'm staying in the car to wait, I guess because I thought I could keep the milk colder that way or something, I don't really know. Biggest starts to whine that she wants me to come in and when I won't she starts a tug of war with Middlest to which I say:

No, someone she knows will end up seeing you and think it's for her and we will end up with rumors. But she persisted until I remembered my milk and told  Middlest to just go.

Let's stop a moment to ponder that Biggest is not only married she is going to be 23 years old next week.........Ok, let's go...

I sat there for about 3 minutes and then decided I was bored and would go in.
 I also knew what was going to happen next.

And yes, as I traveled down the aisles I followed the sound of the giggling and then heard, oh wait, I hear mom ( I carry a big noisy key chain and pretty much sound like Santa coming) and came around the corner to find Biggest taking her phone away from her ear because she was calling me,
 Which was what I knew was going to going to happen next.

She then asked, Where do they keep them?
I looked at her and said, How would I know I haven't been pregnant in 15 years.
They were standing in the tampon aisle. Yeah, wrong aisle ladies.

So we proceeded to look until we found: The pregnancy tests.....behind locked glass.
Apparently they are a hot commodity. I had no idea.
We then have a 5 minute diatribe from Biggest about how stupid that is.
So I tell her, hey, I have milk.
So we stand around and she dithers until I tell her which one to get.
Then she asks, Who opens the case?
Me: Ask at the pharmacy. 2 yards away.
Biggest: You ask.
Me: No.
Goes on several more minutes before she turns to Middlest and says: You ask.
To which Mid and I both firmly shout  answer, NO no.
Biggest: I don't want to ask at the pharmacy,  should I ask at the front?
Me: I don't care who, just ask someone, I Have Milk!!

So she goes to the front. Middlest and I stand there for a few moments before we look at each other and remember where we are standing and run to the end of the aisle to gawk in fascination at a canned tea display.
Middlest says, Tea will work. Tea, yes, that is safe and looks innocent enough.

Biggest comes back saying. I can't believe this. Half my clients are in here today. They're everywhere. I don't want anyone to see me. Please go ask..
Me: Um, No.
Middlest? No Way.
Me: I have milk.

She goes to the front and comes back and says "I have to ask at the back."

She  heads to the back and Finally someone comes to open it while she turns red and points.

Then Biggest quickly scouts for her clients and all 3 of us head to the counter while she pays for it making sure to noisily spill her change and turn even more red and call plenty of attention to the three of us standing at the counter with one item. Middlest and I making sure to hang back in case there is any doubt. As we leave about half of Middlests'  high school shows up for some reason and we narrowly escape starting  rumors.
Then she tells me that before I came in she saw a guy from school and he called her over to talk but she didn't want to, so she said, no you come here and he wouldn't and just said he'd talk to her later.
I panicked for a minute and forgot that they found the aisle after I came in and asked, did he see you in that aisle, no wonder he wouldn't come up.
She looked blank and then laughed, oh,  no....we were in the tampon aisle.

So I say, Let's get you back to work before my milk goes bad.
Biggest:  No, I want to go to your house. Is Dad home?
Me: Yes and what about DecentGuy? He might want something to do with this.
Biggest: He said I should wait but I don't want to. I want to do it now.

Which translates in to: I Want My Mommy.

on the drive home the possibilities start to sink in and I ponder whether it is more appropriate to cry over spoiled milk......or being a Grandma.

We get in and I rush the milk to the Icebox CU and hit super cool while Biggest rushes in to the bathroom.
Then I try to act natural while I talk to my husband. Biggest comes out and I ask, are you feeling alright? No answer. Not even a nod. Her Dad calls her in to the office and shows her something he wants her to read. I keep trying to catch her eye and once when I do she just looks at me and then keeps reading. I'm about to bust a gasket and try to remain calm because she doesn't seem to want her dad to know anything. He just keeps talking and talking and she answers him and avoids my eye until their conversation is finished and silence falls for a moment before he looks at her and asks......

Are you pregnant?
Whereupon she looks up and says, NO!
What's this... ESP?
I'm just checking, he says, you guys never tell me anything.

When we are alone again she asked if it might be too early to tell and I really don't know of course because if she doesn't know the possible time frame how would I?  But I tell her I thought it would be too early for the symptoms she was describing  if it was too early to show up on a test and maybe she had a virus or just wasn't taking care of herself.

Later, I ask my husband, How did you catch on?

Him: I've only seen that look on your face 3 other times.

The milk wasn't spoiled either.

© 2010 All Rights Reserved

Monday, June 7, 2010

The Company I Keep

I have said before that I don't really pay attention to key words or possible search phrases to get ranked in search engines. My titles are always just what I think of as a title with no motive. My readers and commenter's have come almost exclusively from Mom blogging groups I have joined. I just kind of innocently assumed that perhaps some day, maybe 20 years or so,  people might find my blog searching for issues related to teenagers and raising daughters or even being grounded. Recently I decided to check and see what, if any, search terms had been used to find my blog.  Well there is ONE, almost exclusively. 

imagine my surprise....I have some ranking! .....within a certain niche.

Why yes, I am on the search engines! Wow! look at all those hits from people searching for......

Emo Boobs
It seriously never in a million years occurred to me that someone might google the words "Emo Boobs."

Just within the past week there have been 41 Emo Boob searches.
As well as two stripper googles and  something about mom boobs which is even more creepy.

So where are all these emo boob aficionado's coming from? Why all across the world. Emo Boobs seem to be very popular in the Midwest but most popular in California. Emo Boob  fans are as wide spread as the UK, Germany, Argentina, Madrid, Israel and India.

What on earth made them click my site. Seeing that sunny blue sky pop up must have scarred their horny little Dark hearts for a lifetime.

Back when I posted what is apparently my most popular post Ever: Emo Boobs and Premature Cleaving , about bra shopping with my daughters, I never expected it to bring me such standing, in only 4 months, on the very first page no less,
with such a stellar group.

Why all you have to do is google emo boobs yourself and you will see....

the kind of company I keep.

I'm thinking maybe I should delete my peri-menopause post from a couple days ago before I start getting hits for hot naked moms.  Whataya think?

© 2010 All Rights Reserved

Sunday, June 6, 2010

A Little Weary.....

Let's just sit quietly, shall we..........

Wish You Were Here: Pink Floyd

© 2010 All Rights Reserved

Friday, June 4, 2010

And Then He Said.....

My husband and I were laying in bed watching tv and talking when I felt a hot flash coming on. These are new to me and are intermittent without any regularity. It kind of happens suddenly as a twinge of raised temp then very quickly escalating into feeling like you opened a 450 degree oven and breathed in deeply.

I lost the train of the conversation and I had started fidgeting and he asked what was wrong, why was I so agitated all of a sudden? As I began kicking my legs around suddenly desperate to get that blanket off immediately,  I told him, I'm having a hot flash,  it will pass. As I began pulling my shirt up to get if off my skin and let our fan blow across me for a moment I looked at my husband and he was grinning.

And then he said:

Hey maybe this won't be so bad after all. Sudden stripping...I could get used to this. If you're going to start ripping your clothes off in front of me all the time I'm going to enjoy this menopause thing. This is great!

I had to laugh....
And I said: Well, thank you honey, I'm glad to hear that.

And then he said: See, you should be happy after all these years I still like looking at you naked.

And I said: I am happy and I do appreciate that!

And then he said:  Now you can write about that on your blog.

And I said: You're right, I will!

I'm not sure he took me seriously......

he should know better ; )

any of my kids reading this just got what they deserved  xp

2010 All Rights Reserved

Thursday, June 3, 2010

What's On.......

I'm taking a look at the beauty around me and.....

What's on my back porch?

My husband left a ladder propped against the wall and when he went to move it he noticed something.

Can you tell what it is?

                                                          How About A Closer Look

 Wrens. They usually nest in a cubby spot under the upper deck but this year this must have seemed so much more convenient!

                                                         What's on my fridge?
                                                  I found this the other morning when I woke up.
                                                  Littlest made it which makes it all the more true!
                                                                           Latin for
                                                              Life is Beautiful !
                                                So Is She
                                                            What's On My Blog 
                                                                      Something Shiny
                                                                   Two New Awards
 From Two Very Special Special Bloggers!
Their Greatness Cannot be contained in any Kingdoms Boundaries or Towns Limits!!!


The Empress at Good Day, RegularPeople                                                       

Which I pass to....                                                                                   
Katies Dailies                                                                                  
Magically Ordinary                                                                             
High Maintenance Aspirations                                                             


The Mayor, at Crazy Town

 I'm too dorky to know what is trendy right now but I think you're cool!
So I pass to...

Help!, Mama Remote...
 Susan Fobes' Family Formula
My Life as A Libra
Aging Mommy

There are no Boundaries or Limits to how much I enjoy your blogs!

My usual No Strings policy is in place. Like my Dandelion you may blow and spread the Love around. Or you can stick it in a vase just to be admired. Or you can spray it with weed killer ...but even if you do......
I think you're all terrific bloggers and anyone who hasn't visited any of these blogs should do so immediately!

It took me so long to do this that I don't have time to visit and read now because at one point I totally screwed it up...I'm supposed to be doing the books..shh....anyway....if you come by before I stop by I will catch ya later!

Now to top off our Festival of  Beautiful Shiny Happy Things.......
                                                    Whats On My Speakers!

Shiny Happy People by R.E.M.

Search This Blog