Swivel Sweepers

*I was talking to a friend today, and this memory popped up. Had to share! Originally posted  in 2010*

My son beat me downstairs this morning and had taken possession of the TV remote before I could pick a channel for him. By the rapt attention he was paying to the television, I feared he had stumbled upon a skin flick or some blood and guts, totally age inappropriate programming.

But no.

He was watching a vacuum infomercial. With more interest than he'd ever shown during an episode of Spongeboob. (And, yes. I did mean to add that extra 'o'.)

 The Swivel Sweeper. And apparently, we need one desperately.

"MOM! Did you see this?" he asks, as I come down the stairs. "It's AMAZING! Watch! WATCH! It picks up NAILS! And broken GLASS! And it bends so you can vacuum under beds!"

I've never vacuumed under a bed in my life and I don't intend to start now. And why can't you, you know, just pick up the nails? As for the broken glass? Any breakable item in our house had long been broken, so no problem there.

"And MOM! There's a secret button you push and all the stuff falls into the trash! Look! LOOK! You're going to miss it!"

"Wow, Nick. That's amazing. What do you want for breakfast?"

"MOM! You NEED one. Call that number! You get TWO for the PRICE OF ONE!"

Who are you, kid? Billie Mayes?

"I think our vacuum is fine. Do you want a waffle?"

"No! You need this one! It's AMAZING! LOOK! It bends! And it won't scratch the wall!"

I've never had a problem with my vacuum scratching the wall. Maybe I've been using it incorrectly.

"Why don't we watch "Oswald"?"

"NO! I'm watching this! IT'S AMAZING!"


I think I know what I'm getting the kid for Christmas this year.

"Seize the day, and put the least possible trust in tomorrow."

I took the kids through the McDonalds drive-through this afternoon to get some ice cream...three cones and a McFlurry. I pay, then pull up to the window to wait. And wait. And wait. Finally someone comes to the window with the McFlurry, and then stands there staring at me, waiting for me to leave.
"Umm...we had three cones, too," I say.
"We're out of ice cream cones," he says.
Out of ice cream cones. Of course. Silly me. He keeps standing there.
"I already paid...?"
"Oh. Do you want sundaes, or something?" he asks. My youngest starts screeching from the back seat that he wants a chocolate dipped cone. I quickly order three more McFlurries, determined to get my  moneys worth. I pull out of the parking lot annoyed, trying to ignore my son who is still whining over the ice cream, and then I find I can't get onto the highway because a woman is sitting in the middle of the intersection for no apparent reason. When she finally made her mind up to as what she was doing, I couldn't go because the light changed and I had to sit through another red light. SIGH. Even more annoyed.

I get home and read through Facebook while I eat my ice cream. The usual inspirational quotes, pictures of people's food...buried in all that, I read that a local man was killed in a car crash, and while the name was familiar it took me a second. Then I realize that he was the son of one of the most amazing teachers my kids have ever had; the kindergarten teacher that taught my both my older children, and the teacher that I will beg for my youngest to have. The teacher that inspired me to go back to school to get a degree in early childhood education. And my heart broke. While I was annoyed over ice cream cones, a wonderful, inspiring woman had just lost her son. A family had just been torn apart and changed forever, and I was upset because I had to sit through a red light.

I can get so caught up in the little things, the annoying things that drive me nuts, all those petty things that seem to ruin a good mood. And suddenly, I'm given some perspective. As a parent, there can't possibly be anything worse than losing a child. There are no words.

All my love, sympathy and prayers go out to the family. I am so, so sorry.

"Seize the day, and put the least possible trust in tomorrow."
Horace

Vacation Planning on a Budget (preferrably one that doesn't include murderous elves)

We’re trying to plan a vacation for this summer, and while I’m all for a week on the beach with alcoholic drinks, I do have to take into consideration the kids, and what they want. So...what do they want? They want to back to the scary, nearly abandoned “North Pole” amusement park in Colorado Springs. We went to a few years ago, and it was quite possibly one of the most bizarre places I’ve ever been. One good thing? There were no lines. No one else on the rides. My theory? The remaining guests were being slaughtered in Santa's Workshop.

 Real life action shots of the "North Pole." 

This one is of obviously benign elves waving cheerfully, while their comrade smashes a prairie dog with a hammer.

Kids, remember Fluffy? Your beloved cat? Yeah? He didn't really go to live on that farm. Santa has him.

Nothing menacing here, run along now, run along. RUN!

 So, as charming as the North Pole was, we asked if they had any other ideas which really, in hindsight, was a stupid thing to do. "Disneyland! Yay!" The most magical (translation: expensive) place on earth. Of course. But I did some research...3 days at 1 park ticket. Can't be that bad. That's only...let's see...$209 under age 10...and HOLY HELL! For $1,093 our family of five could spend 3 blissful days in the park. But to be fair, it does include a "Magic Morning." (Quite frankly, I'd be just as happy with the "Magic Fingers" bed. After all, they just take quarters, right?) But, if we slept on park benches, and ate out of trash cans, I can see it. 

Just need to check flights...William Shatner and I did some serious negotiating, and we came up with...$1,345.00. Really? Technically, if you look at the US map we're only about a couple of inches away from LA. That's like what? About $600 an inch? And personally? I've lost all respect for William. You know, I thought he was on my side. He seemed so...sincere. I thought he really cared. I'm starting to think he's just in it for the money.

That's as far as we've made it. Summer may be over before we decide on an mutually acceptable, reasonably priced vacation. I may just lock the kids out of the house for a few weeks, and tell them they're camping.

I'm Tired of Being all Grown Up and Stuff

Ever wish that you could go to bed...and then wake up,  wearing really cool Thundercat pajamas, (that your friends would NEVER know about), looking up at the ceiling in the bedroom you grew up in? The one that you stared at night and found patterns in the random texturing? There's that donkey and that strange looking old man that sometimes looks like a rabbit, depending on the angle? And maybe a few of those glow in the dark stars that really didn't glow all that well at all. That familiar bedspread all wrapped around you? Your alarm goes off, and you get up eagerly, because you're in eighth grade and you get to see your "crush" during math class and pass notes back and forth: the one's that say, "Do you like me? Check yes or no". Or if it was true love, they were more along the lines of "I can't stand you." "Or you're such a dork." Now it's "sexting".

You worried about fractions and reading tests, not whether or not you were going to be able to make the car payment, or if the over-time you were putting in at work was going to affect your child's development. You stressed over the fight you just had with your best friend. You didn't fret  obsessively over the safety of your children.You didn't assume that every man was a pedophile.

Ever wish that?

Yeah. Me, too. Thirteen was hard, but being a parent is harder.

My mom made my brother and I breakfast and it was always waiting for us when we made it to the table. She gave us Flinstone vitamins (that I hid in my dresser drawer) and she made us lunch (which also usually ended up in my dresser drawer. And yes...my room may have had a certain...stench.) She did our laundry, made dinner... And I didn't worry. I was safe and while I may have been convinced that I hated my parents, I knew they were there for me, no matter what. I knew I was lucky, because I had friends that didn't have that kind of support system. I was innocent. Someone once told me that I needed my eyebrows waxed and I didn't even know that meant. Hand holding was the pinnacle of love.. and I had my first kiss that year and quite frankly, the "French kissing" part didn't impress me. I think it may have been because it involved food. But today, eighth graders are getting pregnant and having oral sex in the boy's bathrooms. I didn't even know what that was. Oral? I assumed it had something to do with talking. Oral reports were something I would ditch school to avoid. Why would I give one in the boy's bathroom? I wasn't even allowed to go in there.

Growing up isn't as fun as it was supposed to be. Someone lied. And I'd like to have a word with them.

I wonder what will be standard when my children are in eighth grade? I have the feeling the days of innocent notes and searching the Valentine hearts for secret messages will be over. Will strong parenting override the all-powerful peer pressure, or create an even stronger sense of rebellion? What about drugs?  Drinking? I'm not naive and I know this stuff is coming up sooner and sooner and I just hope that my feeble attempts at parenting will be enough to make my kids stop and think before making any decisions that have life changing potential. And I hope they make good decisions.

Waiting...and more waiting...

October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, during which I was personally and ironically introduced to the fear and uncertainty of a possible diagnosis.  While I have a family history of breast cancer and helped care for my “granny” while she was going through her treatment, I was surprised to discover a lump on myself. Being relatively young, it’s not something that had ever really crossed my mind. Yet, it was there, and obvious. So I made an appointment for the doctor who examined it and told me “that it didn’t look good” and I was referred for a mammogram, which also “didn’t look good”.  Next step was an ultrasound, where a “suspicious mass” was discovered. The radiologist came in to the room and explained what she saw. The only words I understood were “vascular” , “abnormal”, something about blood flow…apparently I don’t speak radiologist and when she asked if I had questions, I figured it would be easier to say no than have her bring me a dictionary and have her start over. I did get the part about a biopsy which needed to be scheduled. 

The first thing I thought about?  Money. Without insurance, how were we going to be able to afford that? It’s bad when the prospect of paying for any possible treatment is scarier than an actual cancer diagnosis. I expressed this and Komen Foundation entered my life. I have never been so thankful for an organization in my life. I vow to donate and walk and do whatever it takes to show my gratitude. Without them, and the care team at Summit View Health, my experience would have been even more stressful than it was. 

A core needle sample was needed, which would require a small incision to allow the needle access. The thought of a large needle being poked around into my breast tissue and around my nipple was less than appealing. And yes, when my appointment came, I was a nervous wreck. But I pretended not to be. So, you’d be cutting a hole in my breast and prodding around inside it with a needle? No problem. Just another day. Obviously, the techs and the doctor saw through my tough chick act, and were amazingly friendly and compassionate. The biopsy was ultrasound guided and I could see the screen but when the Dr. started the procedure and I saw the numbing needle start to probe around in my breast tissue, I decided I’d keep my eyes shut for the remainder of the procedure. The nurse tried to distract me: asking about my kids, Halloween costumes, etc. but the “snap” of the spring loaded needle contraption used to obtain the core samples was hard to ignore. The sound reminded me of a Nerf gun. “Snap!” “Snap!”  Fortunately, the numbing was effective and the “worms of tissue” were obtained. Which I absolutely did not want to look at, but of course, my retired fire fighter/EMT was very interested in checking out. 

It was Monday. Results would be back by Wednesday. So obviously, until then, I googled everything related that I could find. I quickly came to the conclusion that I was going to die. 

The waiting is the hardest.  You have too much time to imagine all the worst case scenarios. Finally, Wednesday came, and my stomach flipped every time the phone rang, but it was never “the call”. I made phone calls, but there were no return calls. It was a long night.  Maybe I sound a bit melodramatic, but the possibility of dying (no matter how unlikely) and leaving three young kids behind is horrifying. I stood by their beds that night a little longer than usual, and watched them sleep. 

Thursday morning came along with the anxiously awaited phone call. The mass appeared benign. And I realized that I could breathe again. But now I am being referred to a surgeon for a second opinion, so more waiting. But I realized that nothing can be taken for granted, because as cliché as it may be, it could be gone just like that and then you’re left with all the things unsaid, the regrets, heartbreak and loss. So say the things that need to be said, have no regrets and tell them you love them, because aliens could abduct them tomorrow.  An asteroid could hit. And there is always death by water intoxication. And oh yeah, that little cancer thing. You just never know.

Bullying Sucks.

Bullying is a sensitive subject for me, being as my oldest child has been the victim of it numerous times. He came home from kindergarten many times, upset because “Jake” was picking on him at school. He’d hit him, pinch him, and call him names, all while in class. There were several times when my son fought to stay home. After a few such incidents, I contacted his teacher to see what she knew and to find out what she was doing about it. She wasn’t even aware of it. She insisted that it wasn’t going on; she’d never seen anything of the sort in the class and to the best of her knowledge, “Jake” and my son got a long great.  Believing that she was attentive to what was happening in her class, I wrote it off as the exaggerating of a six year old boy.

 Then he came home from school with a bright red mark of a small handprint on his thigh. My son told me that while he was in the bathroom, his friend “Jake” had grabbed his leg and squeezed so hard that it actually left a handprint. I took a picture and brought it to the teachers’ attention that next day. I was informed that, yes, “Jake” does have some anger issues. And that was the end of the story. Fortunately, it was at the end of the year and I put in a formal request with the principal that my son and his tormentor be put in separate classes in second grade.

My request was granted, however I really began to worry about the bullying that occurs in schools. It can happen right under a teacher’s watchful eye and they aren’t even aware of the problem. Approximately 160,000 children miss school every year because they fear the bullying they know they’ll be subjected to. Intimidation and fear of attack account for 15% of all absenteeism during the school year. (MBNBD (2009) Facts and Statistics).  Bullying can happen to anyone, at any time. Certain things can contribute to it and those who others may see as weak or “different” are often targets. Children that are perceived as unpopular or exhibit low-esteem can also be mercilessly picked on.

Often there are indications that a child is being bullied, even if the actual act is never observed by a teacher or person in a position of authority. Unexplained injuries and frequently broken or missing possessions are telltale signs. Children who are bullied often fake illness to avoid school, but they can actually get sick from the stress bullying causes and many children suffer from bleeding ulcers, headaches and stomach complaints.

The effects of intimidation and harassment on a child are many and far-reaching. They are more likely to suffer from mental issues, such as depression and low self-esteem which can follow them into adulthood. They have more health complaints, and their school work and grades can suffer dramatically. 

Another factor?  Revenge. It is estimated that in the 1990s, 12 out of the 15 school shootings were instigated by children who had been victimized by bullying. (MBNBD (2009). Facts and Statistics). Take for example, the shootings at Columbine High School in 1999. While the act itself was heinous, it was revealed that both the shooters were bullied at school and were seeking a generalized revenge. It is no excuse for the murders, but it leaves one to wonder if the outcome had been different if school officials, adults or even fellow students had stepped in at one time or another and stopped the professed bullying of these students. Unfortunately, during the aftermath of the tragedy, gun control advocates stepped in to spread their message and the focus became about them, rather than focusing on what could have been an ideal time to discuss the effects and prevention of bullying. 

Another disturbing consequence of bullying can be juvenile suicide. According to a study at Yale Institute, children who are the victims of bullying are two to nine times more likely to kill themselves than those who are not. (Bullying Statistics.org)

Bullying can extend its reach far out of the classroom and onto the Internet. “Cyber bullying” is just as harmful and to date, there have been several recent cases covered in the media. Many have ended in suicide, like in the case of Megan Meier who hung herself after a friend’s mother harassed her through the social site, MySpace, pretending to be a boy with whom Meier developed feelings for. (Wikipedia 2012) Meier is far from the only case. Many states have implemented an Anti-Bullying Legislation in an attempt to prevent and punish those who create such situations. Unfortunately, these legislations are unfunded and have no real impact on the issue, and some Christian groups actually are fighting these laws because they believe that it fosters acceptance of homosexual children.

"We feel more and more that [gay] activists are being deceptive in using anti-bullying rhetoric to introduce their viewpoints, while the viewpoint of Christian students and parents are increasingly belittled." (Denver Post, 2010) The quote is from the “education expert” from the extremist “Focus on the Family” group. 

This quote seems to actually prove the opposite; Focus on the Family is using the important issue of bullying to further their hate-filled agenda. Their propaganda actually hurts students who suffer in silence while being humiliated and exposed to bullying at schools. Homosexual or not, every child has the right, and the need, to feel safe and unthreatened at school, and the hatred of one over-zealous group of fanatics should not have the power to impede that right. However, that’s exactly what is happening. 

In Arizona, the group actually persuaded the local government to kill an anti-bullying bill because of their belief that it carried a “gay friendly agenda.” (The Huffington Post; Politics 2012).

While anti-bullying laws are not the end-all solution to this terrible epidemic, they are a start in the right direction, and unfortunately misguided groups such as these are a hindrance to any progress that could be made.  Because of this lack of support, and a lack of funding, it becomes necessary to take action at a local level. 

Many schools have incorporated programs, held informational assemblies, printed t-shirts and organized events. But it’s not enough. We need to step up and stop it when we see it. We need to speak up when it happens to us, despite the fear of retaliation. Educators need to be more diligent and pay attention to the warning signs and changing moods of the children they see eight hours every day. They are the children’s first line of defense against bullying and without the support, attentiveness and compassion of their teachers, intimidation, violence and fear will continue to permeate the lives of one out of every five children.

It’s cycle that needs to stop. 

Manscaping

A post from a few years back. Thought I'd pull it out again. 
 
Be forewarned: This post possibly contains material which may be unsuitable for younger viewers. Or something like that.

The other morning I was accidentally listening to a morning show on the radio. Normally, I would flip the station as fast as I could because I hate talk shows of any kind, tv or radio. But the topic was Manscaping and despite myself, I got interested.

Manscaping is a new term for me, although the instant I heard it, I knew what it was. Pretty self explanatory. The definition, anyway. The motivation behind it, not so much. While there is nothing wrong with trimming those nose hairs, do I really want my husband in the bathroom shaving his nether regions? After a long, hard day at work, do I want him to take his truck to the salon (and that's Salon, not saloon) and have his back waxed?

God, no. Why? Because I married a man, not a smooth skinned prepubescent boy. I like some chest hair on my men. A man's arms should not be smoother than mine and I shouldn't feel like I have to shave my legs every frickin' day because I'm worried that my husband's baby smooth legs will be scratched raw by my stubble.

No, no, no. That's just wrong. Wrong, I tell you. And as for his...well, you know...C'mon! I mean, really? Really? Why? One of the callers on the station stated "If you trim the bushes around the tree, the tree looks bigger." Hmmm... to me that's false advertising. Yes? Aren't there men out there that complain that the Wonder Bra is false advertising? Wouldn't that fall under the same category? As a subscriber to the "it's not the size of the tree, but how you use it" school of thought, personally, I really don't care. Are there people out there who really do? Apparently so.

Another caller worked in the medical field and had seen middle school boys shaving below the belt. As soon as that hair would come in, they were shaving it off. She said that it's attributed to the smooth bodied men in advertisements. Ooo la la.

But apparently, these kids see that and think that's what the girls want.

Which means that these 13-14 year old boys are already taking their superman underpants off in the presence of 13-14 year old girls. I don't know about you, but that scares the hell out of me. I didn't even know what a penis looked like when I was 13, let alone formed any opinion on what a boy's pubic hair, or lack there of, should look like. They're little kids, for goshsake.

And this works both ways...One woman called in to say that she was completely "bald down there."



She was into trends, she said, and had everything lasered off. What if the trends change? she was asked. Well, she thought of that she said, but "is that ever something that goes out of style?"  As for me, I'll shave the bikini line for trips to the pool and I do the whole landing strip thing for special occasions but that's about it. I keep maintained, but there are other times when it's like the Congo down there, and I've never had any complaints. Maybe that's because he knows if he does complain, there will be no more safaris. Ever.

And besides, when I get the chance to take a shower, I barely have time to wash my hair, let alone go bushwhacking. Nor do I have the money to pay someone to do it for me.

And so, to sum up this eloquent post, I'll just say a little hair never hurt...

Thoughts?