Only seven days in and I fail at NaBloPoMo, and I can’t believe none of you noticed. *Hurumph.*
Of course I’m totally blaming you as I’m totally fault-free.
On the other hand, I totally remembered to schedule our family pictures for the church’s snoop book.
Our last picture was in May 2008 and I was slightly smaller than the average bungalow, just two months shy of my due date.
Oh, and before I sign off, anyone else notice that I started each sentence with the letter “O”?
Today I became officially unemployed.
I want to give being a stay-at-home-mom a chance, but I worry that like my most recent position, which ended after two-and-a-half years because the surgeon retired, that I will become disenchanted within a year. Or, even worse, I will be a enormous failure to my children, my husband and of course, myself, and will be forced to give myself the ax.
This recent change in employment is also why I thought I would write this post, my own inaugural for NaBloPoMo 2013. I should have plenty of free time, at least according to my husband, who worries I’ll spend the day shopping for shoes or re-watching Walking Dead episodes (I totally get why Carol did what she did…). I’m not going to say that’s NOT going to happen, but I have some ideas what I’ll do with all that “extra” time:
And there we have it, Day 1. Please hold your applause until we reach the end of November. Thank you.
I did it!!
Please remind me next November to never, ever do that again.
Also? Please feel free to shower me with gratuitous congratulatory comments. I like that kind of shit.
I don’t have anything profound to add to whatever everyone else has or will post today. I just want you to all have a lovely day whether you will be chillin’ with your loved ones and watching the parade; wearing your fat pants and eating more than you have in one sitting then you have all month; or prepping your comfy shoes and going to bed at 5:00 p.m. in order to get up at 2:00 a.m. for Black Friday (and if that’s you? You are an idiot.).
As I mentioned yesterday, I was a little (lot) miffed at Sparring Partner’s friends for having the T&A discussions in front of not only my soon-to-be nine-year old, but there are other kids at the track as well. Later, after Doodicus had gone to bed I asked Sparring Partner what he thought of that. He said,
That’s not something I’d thought I have to talk about this soon.
And I nearly kicked him in the shin. He never “talked” to him about it. I did the talking.
So then I asked him if he let his friends know what had happened and he showed me the text message he’d sent. It basically said that we had caught Dood looking up inappropriate stuff on the computer and told us that it was because of their conversations and that they would have to be way more careful in the future.
I have to admit that I was pleasantly (might be too generous of a word) surprised by their quick and apologetic replies, including, “Holy shit! Def be more aware!” from one friend. Another guy replied with how one of the classmates of his son (Kaarsin) got busted for googling “boobs” and narked on Kaarsin. Kaarsin happens to be a year younger than Dood, attends the races, AND his dad is probably the WORST offender of the group.
Sidebar? Kaarsin’s dad is the same prick who offered to be the “sperm donor” when he found out that male factor was contributing to our problems conceiving. Need I really say more?
As for looking at this as a conversation had too soon? Quite frankly, I didn’t want to have the conversation with him in four, six or even ten years. And I told him that: I don’t know what to say to him about this. I guess I should have asked questions; like what was he hoping to find? Images? Discussions? What exactly IS sexy? Sure, you and I both know it’s totally inappropriate for a 3rd grader to be looking that stuff up, but could you be specific in your explanation if you were asked why? Thankfully, he didn’t ask.
As several of you pointed out, children DO grow up too fast in today’s technology-based world, which I think is ironic (I think I’m going to use that word correctly). 100 years ago, parents often urged their children to get married in their early teens. Single women in their 20s were spinsters. But now? I can’t even imagine promoting the idea of settling down to either of my kids before turning 30. I feel so old. When exactly does wisdom set in? Does it ever?
Today I aged 10 years in 10 minutes. I have a man-child in my house. One minute he is looking up new Beyblades on the computer and the next…? I mean, even right now, he is literally curled up, lying on his side, playing Pokemon on his Nintendo DS and my heart is bruised watching him.
After school started, we set up an old laptop in his room and saved several school-recommended websites under his profile. I knew he was googling and watching youtube videos because he would tell me about what he had found. It was always about some new toy or his favorite football team. However, today something was…off.
Doodicus headed to his room and shut the door.
He shut. the. door.
He never shuts his door.
I was helping Aitch with something and I couldn’t get away from her fast enough and when I did, I just knew I had to be quiet and quick. I didn’t knock, but just barged into his room. Doodicus slammed the lid of his computer down and jumped up from his chair and rushed to me. I tried to move him out of my way and he started yelling for me to get out. I pulled his hands away from me and quietly told him to sit on the bed. He continued to yell, “What?! What do you want?!”
Two more times I told him to sit on the bed. I was deliberately calm; quiet. This was a major turning point and I knew how I reacted was going to make every difference in our future relationship as mother and son. He finally stopped yelling and pulling at my arms and sat down on the edge of the bed. I lifted the lid of the computer barely taking in the list of links I recognized as a google search results page. Instead I looked at the two words in the search box: sexy women.
My heart stopped it’s thundering beat for a second and then took off again even faster. I shut the lid again and turned to look at my eight year old son sitting on the bed who was now crying.
The first thing I did was to tell him he wasn’t in trouble. I mean how could he be when we hadn’t set any specific rules about this? I asked why he was looking something like that up; were his friends at school talking about it? No, he said. Dad’s friends are always talking about it at the races.
A small flicker of fury started up in my guts. I’ve never had a reason to dislike both my husband’s and son’s hobby until this very moment. This radio-control racing isn’t a child’s sport. Instead it’s for middle-aged men with pauches and forgiving wives who get together and geek out with talks of springs, brushless motors, battery packs and each armed with soldering irons and battery chargers. I actually enjoy the company but only in brief spurts. It’s probably comparable to your husband enjoying your girlfriends and accompanying you to the mall, but quickly splitting off to go check out the sports store or hitting the theater to see the recent action-thriller starring a really aged and poorly botoxed movie star (I’m looking at you, Sylvester Stallone).
But as much as I like the guys and the way they take kids like Doodicus under their wings, I knew the conversations sometimes get a little bawdy as they forget he’s there; or maybe don’t think he’s listening while he plays his video games between heats.
And I should have known that sooner or later this would happen.
As for what I said to him after that? First I found Sparring Partner who was really in just as much hot water as Doodicus. I briefly explained what had happened (to explain the yelling that could be heard across the house) and then had to explain what the rules will be from here on out and how we were going to enforce them, including major restrictions on his laptop.
Yes, I know we should have done that first. Trust me, I’ve already mentally flogged myself a dozen times this afternoon. I don’t know how I’m going to reconcile these two different parts that make up my son: the boy he has been for the past eight years with the young man emerging in these odd fits and starts that make me feel as if I’ve entered the Twilight Zone. Wasn’t he just a toddler obsessed with how many Hot Wheels cars he had of each color?
Since her fascination with the mini-water features has been limited to flushing toilet paper, I’ll be showing her how to scrub the potties next.
Laptop is majorly infected so have to use husband’s.
Original post I had here is just…gone.
Zandra tagged me, not Tara.
There was supposed to be an imbedded video on my last post. Not sure what happened there.
I’m really looking forward to the flooded basement / fender-bender / lightning strike / broken limb / swarm of locust that is sure to come up next.
Wow. Everyone got so serious. Sheesh. A total stranger hit upon something in her comment left on the NaBloPoMo, which was this: sometimes parents can get – I don’t want to use the word desperate, but yes – desperate for something our kids can do. Where we live, we don’t have a Chuck E. Cheese’s or a Bounce U or a children’s museum or whatever populated urban areas have. We have cornhusk dolls and rocks, people! So when my kid gets an opportunity to do something outside of playing on the swingless playground at school or watching his little sister climb the rubberized lion on the 20×20 play area in the mall, we’re going to go for it. And so will his friends.
Wow. I sound a little defensive and indignant, don’t I?
Here’s something to lighten the mood (and change the subject). My congratulations if you can get through the entire clip.
I intentionally misled you with the last post. Doodicus wasn’t invited to a pool party. We are the ones (possibly) hosting it. I believe if I asked, “Dood wants to have an indoor water/pool party but the closest amenities are two hours away. Would you let your child attend?” you may not have answered as honestly if you had answered at all.
This idea came about because Dood didn’t get a birthday party last year. All the snow put people off, rightfully so. So this year I told Dood that if he wanted to do something extra special, including this pool party, we would make arrangements. At first he wasn’t too into the idea. He was leaning towards a pool/laser-tag party at the local Y, common birthday party faire for around here during the cold weather seasons.
Last week I asked one last time what he wanted to do and he had changed his mind. He’d rather invite two or three friends for a day at the water park than invite a dozen friends for laser-tag. I told him that I would have to talk to the parents first to see if it was something they would allow, just so he wouldn’t get his hopes up only to be dashed when the parents ended up feeling the same as most of you, per your comments.
However, I was pleasantly surprised and especially relieved when both boys’ mothers responded positively to the prospect. While I like the idea of an even number of kids in a group, I think three in this kind of situation is going to be enough to make it fun for Doodicus and not overwhelming for us.
Sorry to be deliberately vague on the last post. Do you think you would have answered EXACTLY the same knowing we were the ones doing the inviting?
Here’s the situation:
Your child has been invited, along with just a couple of other kids, to a pool party at an indoor water park in a hotel. The birthday child’s parents are driving the children there, but it is two hours away. They are also covering all expenses as far as access fees, lunch, etc. While the park is in a hotel, they will not be staying overnight.
Would you let your child go? What concerns would you have?
There’s always room for memes during NaBloPoMo, especially when I haven’t been able to keep up. A NOTABLE blog post requires time, research, thought, editing, rewriting….
I’m not good at any of those.
Zandrafrom The Anc Farm, who puts up with me and has for a couple of years, has tagged me with an interview-style meme. No, you cannot skip to the end to see if I tagged you next. Cheater.
1. What is one TV show you make a point of watching every week?
I use to try to watch Glee, House, Lie to Me and CSI: Las Vegas but I honestly don’t know where my day goes. Right now I could be watching the DVRed programs, but nooooo! I’m doing this meme instead!!
2. Did you wear braces?
No, but I did wear a retainer for a few weeks. Yes, just weeks because I couldn’t stand the damn thing. It hurt and I once caught my tongue in the wire. With all the money I’m going to win in the lottery, I would like to get my teeth straightened and whitened. After I have all that plastic surgery I’ve been wishing for.
3. How many cars have you owned?
Solo, I’ve owned three: my first was a 1973 Plymouth Duster that I bought from the gay couple who lived next door to my studio apartment when I lived in Wichita. They were good guys, but not the best mechanics. The second car I bought was a 1986 Ford Tempo, 2-door. I flirted with the salesman who took me to lunch during the test drive in which he did the driving. You see, it was a 5-speed manual and I didn’t know how to drive a stick. It’s a friggin miracle I didn’t kill anyone driving between Omaha (where I bought it) and Lincoln (where I lived at the time). And then the first NEW car I ever owned as a single-person was the 1996 Dodge Neon. I thought I was pretty hot shit driving my smiling, black Neon around town. Since getting married? I’ve had four vehicles that were my main rides, all Toyotas.
4. I’m coming to your house for dinner, what will you serve me?
As long as I know you’re coming, I would definitely be prepared. Normally, it would be something that’s universally tolerated, like lasagna; however Tara is a vegetarian. Around here (“here” as in Cattle Country), a vegetarian would starve to death (except when sweet corn is in season), or do what my friend does when she visits and go through McDonalds and order a cheeseburger, hold the patty. So then I’d have to defer to my sister who lives in The Capital and is also a vegetarian for what makes for a satisfying dinner. We once tried to grill portobello burgers for her but I don’t she was impressed…unlike me, she’s too polite to actually tell us they sucked.
5. Other than anything having to do with family, name something for which you are thankful.
I am, and always will be, eternally grateful for every single person I’ve “met” through blogging, even the ones who are no longer around. The blogging community is like a hand-made crazy quilt: every stitch and patch just adds to the overall color and warmth I can wrap around me when I need a hug. Cheesy, no?
Now, let me see. My victims taggees will be
And my questions:
I was just sitting down to write a post but then Aitch woke up from her nap crying.
Maybe tomorrow. I’m using up all the good stuff early.
I know! I’m laughing, too!!
Shut up. I am NOT cheating!
Punch Drunk 