...but I didn't

I'm a crier. I cry. It's what I do when I'm sad. Or happy. Or laughing uncontrollably. I cry when Peter comes home for Christmas on the Folgers commercial. I cry when I hear a song. I always cry when my children are hurting. I often cry when others children are hurting. I cry at weddings. Funerals. As a matter of fact, I cry so easily I've considered offering my services to funerals of those who may not actually have someone to cry at their passing. I think you get the picture.
Today I decided I wouldn't cry. Not because I didn't want to, but because I needed not to. I've tried before not to cry in difficult situations to no avail. Usually when I'm feeling like crying I do. Sometimes at inopportune times, but that's a whole other story.
Today I went to visit a former student. This is something I do occasionally. Especially with students who have wormed their way in to my heart. Those that I see something in that others don't. Those who don't have someone in their corner not just when they're on the ropes, but don't have someone in their corner when the other guy is on the ropes. I've always been a supporter of underdogs.
It's just sometimes, when you really listen to a kid, and notice responses, and figure out how they see the world you can see something special in that kid. All kids are special, but when there's a human connection with kid and I'm lucky enough to see the true potential in that person it brings a rush of emotions: happy, sad, fortunate, gratitude, and worry. Happy because seeing that possible future is truly a gift to me. Sad as usually that very kid rarely can see or feel their potential. Fortunate speaks for itself. Gratitude for the great honor it is to be allowed in to a kids life. Especially a kid who has no reason to trust yet another 'well-meaning' adult.
Back to today. It was a first for me. The former student I visited was in a locked juvenile facility. And it's not pretty there. Upon arrival and after going through a metal detector I had to lock up my phone, purse, coat, keys...did I mention my phone?...in a locker. I can't tell you the last time I was not in the same room as my phone. This is a sidebar to the story, but, it was unnerving to leave it. I was escorted through two secured doors to a long stairway, that led to a long hallway in the basement of the building. We then walked through another locked door to an 'interview' room.
I sat down in the sparse salmon-ish pink room with mismatched chairs, a dirty table, and no clock. I believed I was locked in the room. I later found out I was not. I could hear all the commotion in the hall way, someone talking on the phone and saw youth detainees walk by my window with an escort (guard).
I waited for a long while for T to come in. I didn't know what to expect. I only knew him for about two months, but I told him even if he was no longer 'my' student, I would continue to advocate for him. I lost track of him for over three months. When I finally found where he was I had to get approved to see him. And I waited, having no idea what time it was. The T walked in with a smile that was not forced but not genuine either. And he asked how I had been. And I hugged him. I came to see him and he asks how I have been. This kid, who's been locked up for over two months with NO visitors. Who is now in what is called lockdown (meaning he only gets out of his room for one hour a day for recreation or letter writing). This kid asks how I am doing.
I wanted to cry...but I didn't.

New Business Idea!

So, I think I've got a great idea for a business that has nothing to do with what I deal with in my professional life. It's a money maker. Best yet, it's a needed service in the Omaha area. I am dreaming big on this one!
It started as a rash after changing shampoos. It looked like an allergic reaction, similar to what she's had before. But it didn't go away after a couple of days of treatment. Then it happened. She came out of her room. With something between her fingers. She said, "I found this in my hair." I replied, "Oh, let me see." A phrase that I may never repeat. I took a close look at what would consume my life on and off for the next two weeks and then into the next month. The four letter word that has become the bane of my existence: lice.
Yep, they are as disgusting as you might imagine. But worse than that, they will not go away! In the weeks we've been dealing with this here are the things we have purchased, my comments follow of course:

• Nix, don't bother...oh, and we spent like $90 on treatments for the whole fam-damily
• Vinegar, doesn't hurt, but not very helpful
• Alcohol, rubbing but if you're dealing with this you should have vodka on hand for sanity purposes
• A metal toothed lice/nit comb, helpful but not necessary (not gonna lie, we used a flea comb as you can cover more territory with it)
• Rx Ovide: I'm pretty sure Moo has neurological damage from that treatment! And, kerosene would have been much cheaper and I'm fairly certain it's the same thing.
• Huge trash bags, helpful for transporting all the laundry and keeping it separate from the 'other' laundry
• Laundry Detergent and Dryer sheets, I don't think either has stopped running since this ordeal began
• New pack of combs, helpful
• Head Lice Head Light (thanks for the name Marni!)...a camping or spelunking flashlight you wear on your head: A NECESSITY!
• Magnifying glass and cheap drugstore reading glasses...those damn lice and nits are small!
• A 'daylight' lamp, helps in seeing the little critters
• Vacuum Cleaner Bags, You throw them away after each use...not cheap.
• Listerine, makes me feel better about 'doing' something...but not entirely useful. BUT, it has high alcohol content so you can drink it if you run out of vodka
• Orange Sticks and Toothpicks, To separate the hair
• Drawstring Trash bags for all of the kids in Moo's class to put all outerwear in at their 'hooks'
• Cetaphil Gentle Skin Cleanser, MY SALVATION! Cetaphil for Head Lice

My point. We've spent a TON of money on all this crap. Not to mention the time involved in cleaning the house, doing laundry, nit picking (another term I won't use lightly again), vacuuming furniture, doing laundry, picking live bugs out of hair, nit picking. Did I mention doing laundry?
I would have gladly paid someone else to come in and do all this stuff. That's my business idea. I want to call it De-Louse Your House. Our business would come in and do all the aforementioned and deal with the hassle. I'm guessing we could do it for about the same cost as buying all the crap listed above, not to mention NOT having to deal with ALL of the above.

You can hate me for sharing. You can judge me. You can judge us. It is what it is. You won't understand unless...until you have to deal with it. And I would not wish that on anyone.
And if this doesn't stop going around school I may need donations of vodka to get me through. I prefer Grey Goose, Stoli Blueberry and Vanilla are equally well liked.
Don't be a nitwit! Check your kids for lice if they're itching!

You can't put out a fire by peeing on it

An Omaha  guy lights his ex-girlfriend's house on fire using gasoline and says, and I quote: "As soon as I saw it....I tried to pee on it at first because I didn't know what to do." I thought it was important to 'double quote' this for reasons that may be obvious. This is really dumb and I do not want to misquote this human specimen.
First, if you're pissed (pun intended) at your ex-girlfriend don't go to her house carrying a gas can. Second, if you are so effed up that you choose to set her door on fire, you can't put out that fire by peeing on it. Third, get an attorney and don't talk to the news.
Maybe this story is indicative of our society today. I guess when people are angry they feel they are justified to respond however they want. Without thinking about the consequences for not only the person they are retaliating against, but also the consequences to them. Peeing on a fire is similar to saying sorry when you've purposely done harm. It does nothing to solve the problem and makes you look dumb for trying. Last, has the world learned NOTHING from Law & Order? Come on. Lawyer up and shut your mouth.

Aspiring Annies take the stage - Omaha.com

I meant to share this a couple of weeks ago...

Aspiring Annies take the stage - Omaha.com

Aspiring Schmoo

So, the youngest (aka Schmoo) has decided that she wants to try out for a part in a musical. Not an easy task, even on the local level. She's tried out previously at the community playhouse for a part, to no avail. She has taken dance for five years (and she's pretty good if I do say so myself). But this is a big deal. She is trying out for a part in Annie. Yes, Annie...on Broadway no less. 

She probably won't make it. It's literally like winning the lottery. Her hopes are so high. We've talked about the likelihood of making it. She knows the odds are against her. Yet, she wants to audition. I say, "Good for her." How easy is it for us to sit back and not even try to do the things that are out of reach? Pretty easy. She probably won't even get a second look when auditioning. That's o.k. because at least she is trying.

In our society of 'fifteen minutes of fame-ers' it is hard to want to be an ordinary person. Everyone is famous. And that's the irony, right? When everyone is famous no one is. So, while Schmoo continues to wish to be famous. To wish to be on Broadway. Or, to wish to be star in Hollywood. We'll hold her up as high as we can AND be there to help her get up if she falls. That's all a parent of an aspiring star can do. 

Think of us Sunday afternoon when we're waiting, with the other 800 (let's hope for way less) aspiring stars, and wish us well. Our goal for the day is to have fun and enjoy the experience. That sounds like a good goal for every day.

Wrinkles and Dog Look-Alike

Earlier this week The Boy innocently said I looked like the dog. At the time, I took it to mean that since he is obsessed with how cute and sweet the dog is, that he thought the same of me. I didn't think much about it. Well, I did, but not in an obsessive way. Besides, The Boy adores me...really. 

Then tonight, while tucking said Boy into bed, I laid down beside him and sang him a lullaby. When I asked him what he'd like me to sing he sweetly answered, "Sing anything you want. I just love your voice." What an adorable, loving, and caring boy. He loves me. Oh, what an exceptional child he is.

After singing him a lullaby (All Night, All Day if you care) he sincerely asked me to keep rubbing his head and hair. How could I say no? When it was time for me to leave he very tenderly said, "Mom, you should get rid of your wrinkles." I should have been hurt. I should have been surprised or shocked. I wasn't. I told him that I didn't think that I would be getting rid of the wrinkles. I did not tell him any more than that. Or I would have said that I earned each one by loving and having my heart broken. By living in excess at certain points in my life. By worrying about each of my children for whatever reason that moment. By caring about other people's children because they can't (or worse yet won't). By grieving losses that I wish my children NOT  have to experience, but know they will. The list of badges could go on at length here. I'll stop now. 

So, without telling him that, The Boy says, very sweetly and simply. "They have cream for that."

God, I love that kid. But, I am concerned now that he thinks I look like the dog. I don't care. Not much.

It's ba-aaack!

So, it's back. My on-again, off-again relationship with insomnia. I've had trouble sleeping since I was a kid. My mom would vouch for that. Anyone who has ever lived with me can attest to it...or maybe not because they all seem to SLEEP! It's not just that I have trouble getting to sleep, or staying asleep, it's that sleep is always so close yet so unattainable. I sound like a commercial for the butterfly pill where you're not supposed to operate heavy machinery. Here's my point: I want to be able to lie down in bed and not think of the 100 things I need to complete tomorrow or 99 I did not complete today. I want to lie down, close my eyes and go to sleep like when I was a ki...oh, right, I've had these issues all my life. Maybe it's because I couldn't sleep as a kid that I have trouble sleeping as an adult. I do some of the right things. I have a routine that I use on occasion. I do yoga at least once a year. I don't drink before bed, except when I've been out drinking.
Here's the cruel irony: I love sleep. The one thing I miss most about my life before kids (& now the dog) is sleep. I miss being able to sleep in until it hurts to stay in bed one minute longer. I would relish an uninterrupted nap while a predictable yet highly entertaining Lifetime Movie plays in the background. I think sleep is underrated by those who come by it easily.  Maybe it's that we we want we can't have. I don't know, but sleep is an amazing thing.
My biggest issue is with others who can literally fall asleep sitting in a chair in the middle of a room full of people. What the hell? I can't sleep in my own amazing bed, with great sheets, in perfectly controlled comfort, with not a lot of noise. And you can fall asleep while I'm talking to you? In a room with other people? In a wooden chair no less! Seriously? Most annoying is my own life partner. Is it necessary to flaunt that you can sleep anywhere at any time? Apparently so.
Here's my point. I love sleep. I want sleep. I need sleep. I can't sleep. I don't see this getting better anytime soon.

Builds Character

Builds character. That's my standard statement to my kids when they're dealing with something difficult. It could be a hard situation at school, it could be dealing with people they don't care for, it could be cleaning up dog poop or puke or pee, it could be loading the dishwasher. It's kind of a joke around here. Anytime the kids start complaining about having to do something or a trying situation they'll say, "I know. It builds character."
I guess I didn't really expect them to display the character building until later in their lives. I imagined one of them in or after college would display some character in dealing with not getting along with a professor, changing majors and following their heart, dealing with a relationship and coming out of it having learned something. I didn't expect I'd get to see it in the way it unfolded tonight.
During dance recital all was going swimmingly (a term I think is ridiculously underutilized). All was in place, running smoothly, the dancers looked great. I was enjoying Copelia and watching the oldest on pointe in front of 1,000 people. And she looked good! She knew her dance. She was in sync with the other dancers, all in all a great performance. And at half way through, she fell. Hard. And I worried that she may be hurt. But I was more worried that she hurt her pride. The easy way out would have been to lie there or run off stage. I think I may have. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure I would have.
But my oldest, fell hard and without missing a beat got up. And danced. Even got back on pointe the very next step. And I couldn't have been prouder of her. She's a good kid. I need to remember that. And tell her that. She definitely has built character over her lifetime.
I was proud of myself as well. I didn't rush to her aid, because I'm pretty sure we both would have fallen apart. And when I did see her backstage a few songs later and she asked, "Did you see me fall?" I told her, "No. I saw you get up."
I guess we built a lot of character tonight.

Two words or less

Well, I don't know what you'd call my life right now. Crazy. Busy. Off the chain. Out of control. Whirlwind....You choose. Feel free to leave me a comment so I can accurately describe it two words or less.
I continued to work this week. I was able to take Friday off. While the oldest was still in D.C. partaking in the sights and sounds of our nation's capitol from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. daily. The boy had to get to swim lessons (thank goodness for my mother-in-law for this and just because she's good people and loves me and my kids). The youngest had horse camp all day every day (and we threw in having a friend spend the night) and recital practice three nights this week (ok, only two but I accidentally took her when she didn't need to be there, better than not taking her when she was supposed to go, right?). The oldest had dance rehearsal when she returned. Then, today was dress rehearsal. Did I mention I help back stage for two shows? I like it, except for the heat, the noise, the less than positive attitudes (more from parents than kids), the people not following instructions (both parents and kids), the hunger, the running, the headset digging into my ear...But, don't misunderstand, I wouldn't do it if I didn't like it. I like knowing that I can help to run the amazing show our studio, and my kids, put on. I like that I have some experience and can share that, if you're willing to listen. I like that, even though my own kids don't always listen to me, other peoples kids tend  to listen and I'm good with them. In fact, I'm better to other people's kids than my own. I need to work on that. I like, that in this environment, I've made some really good friends.
And that, dear reader, is the least of it. I start my first class in Educational Leadership, a three-week class, starting Monday at 8 a.m. I won't get home from recital until after a 12 plus hour day which will start about 9. Well, 8 if you count getting the girls ready before I leave. Back to the class. I have an assignment due the first day. Have I done it? What do you think? Of course I haven't! And I don't know how I'll have time now. That's why I'm adding blogging to my day. I needed one more thing to do. Also feel free to comment on what the *mmmm my artifact should be that reflects my philosophy on education. Good grief! How am I going to pull this one off?
Tell me, please. In two words or less.
*The boy told the oldest this week: "What the mmmmm? I say mmmmm because I don't know any cuss words, hence the mmmmmmmm."

Sentimental, Sarcastic, & Selfish

My kids are driving me nuts, and they're not out of school until tomorrow! I love them. I really do. And I'd do anything for them. Most notably, I would literally, not just figuratively, lay down my life for them. I know this, I don't just think it. When our oldest was born much too early I made a deal with God that if someone had to go, I wanted God to pick me. Fortunately we are both still here. Although, some days I wonder if we are both going to make it through her adolescence.
I really should not check tweet deck or work e-mails when I'm 'out', but being the tech junkie I am of course I do just that. While out, feeling sorry for myself because: a) the end of the school year is really busy; b) dance recital is a little over a week away and we'll be busy with that; c) there's no way humanly possible to get all that I need to get done at work DONE by next Friday (or next month for that matter); d) I continued to battle a headache into the evening; e) I'm worried about a three week class I'm taking this summer;  f)  for all of the above and any other minor mole hills  I've allowed to become mountains. Then I checked tweet deck. Wrong move.
Tears streamed down my face, I felt like a selfish bitch unable to deal with my own issues when there are real problems that people face. Riley lost her five year battle with cancer  yesterday. She was ten, almost eleven. She died in her home, in her mother's arms. And as you will see in the link I've shared below, her family says she left her mother's arms and went right into the arms of Jesus. I continued to cry. Because I was sad. Because I felt guilty about my own selfishness. Even because I felt peace that Riley had found hers.
And I kept reading. Not only had Riley passed, she greeted her grandfather in Heaven when he arrived that same day. Riley's mom thinks her dad (Riley's Grandpa) was ready to go, but needed Riley to go first.
I can't comprehend this. I get it on an intellectual level; but how does this work on a spiritual level?  Riley understood the spiritual much better than I ever will. So I hugged my kids tight, and gave thanks that they are healthy, although I complain about their allergies and minor ailments, they ARE healthy and well. I told them I loved them and I let them see my tears. I shared the story of Riley and her family. They didn't understand, and they shouldn't have to.
And then today, while this was still on my mind I yelled at my kids. I said hurtful things to them. And generally lost my cool. Selfish and ungrateful me. I'll continue to be ungrateful and a generally a sarcastic bitch. Yet I'll remain sentimental and continue to give a damn; not because I should, but because I genuinely do care.
The Daily Reflector - Cancer battle ends for Riley Philpot

Grumpy Girl

I have a horrible headache. The kind you go to bed with hoping it's gone when you wake up...only it isn't gone. As a matter of fact it's worse than it was the night before. Not only that, it may end up a migraine. I'm not certain that it is or I'd get to the doctor now. But, the doctor thinks I'm crazy. In her defense, I am a little crazy. But I know what is happening  with my body, even when no one believes me. I won't go to the doctor with this headache because if I tell her I think I may have a migraine and I don't then I've lost any credibility I had left. And I may need that for something really serious someday. Like if I'm having a stroke (God forbid). I don't need to be wondering if my doctor is thinking, "Oh, here comes Gina. She's crazy. Sure she's having a stroke. It's probably nothing." And, it will be no consolation if I actually were having a stroke and no one believed me until I was too far gone to salvage. So, I'l take too much Aleve and Motrin too often and pray I'm not damaging my kidneys. God, I hope I don't because my doctor wouldn't believe me anyway.

Fits right in...

If you know me, you know I have allergies. Allergic to everything. Everything under the sun. Including the sun.  I sat outside of work for about five minutes enjoying the beautiful day, watching the cottonwood blow in the air (which I am also allergic to), thinking this could be the only day I enjoy outdoors without having a full blown (nasal) allergy attack. I enjoyed myself, and the company. I got home tonight, only to find my sun allergy had reared its ugly head again. Not too bad, but enough to remind me I cannot and must not enjoy the sun. (My kids call me vampire. I wish I had some of the perks that went along with being one.) So I sit here itching! And miserable.
Keep in mind that all three of my children have allergies of differing severity, but all have some  kind of allergy nonetheless. My biggest complaint about allergies, aside from the sneezing, kleenex going through the wash, hearing the sucking back of snot, coughing, finding snot rags all over the place, has to be that because of said allergies I can't use scented fabric softener. That's why I hate washing clothes, they never smell 'clean'! They don't smell bad or dirty, they just don't have that clean laundry smell that most people get to enjoy. I know it's a simple thing. I just want the smell of clean around me. But, because of my allergies and thanks to the wonders of genetics now my kids' allergies, we can't have that one simple pleasure. It could be worse.
So, we got a dog (this will make sense...stick with me). . I've been noticing that she sneezes when she comes in from being out in the grass. It's gotten progressively worse, much like the rest of ours have. We've already visited the vet twice in her short two months with us. And I wanted to wait until school was out and dance recital was over to check out what was going on with the dog's allergy situation. But, just like the rest of my family, the dog apparently does not like to do things on my time table...she had her own plan.
It started with her coughing and sneezing uncontrollably last night. So bad, that after researching I gave her a low dose of Benadryl to stave off the sneezing and coughing. That did NOT help! In the middle of the night the oldest said the dog started making a gawd awful noise, I first heard this at 5:55 a.m. I thought she was having an asthma attack, she was wheezing, she seemed to be retracting with each breath. I was freaked out! I wanted to take her in to the emergency vet right then and there, but, I couldn't even imagine the cost. I'm kind of cheap, plus I've found an amazing vet really close to our house with really reasonable prices. I digress. The oldest and I took turns sitting with her while she continued the horrible wheezing for about an hour and half until our vet opened for the day.
Once I got there, she continued this horrible, painful, and heart wrenching wheeze. The vet got her in right away. Yep, she has allergies. And this horrible, gawd awful, painful, asthma like sound is called: reverse sneezing. You read that right, reverse sneezing. It could be worse. I'm glad that she is o.k. So now she's on steroids (insert whatever joke you'd like here) and will likely start on allergy meds in the near future. But, in the meantime...the dog fits right in.

The bottom of my purse

So, a couple of years ago when my middle child was in kindergarten and I had just gone back to work full time and life was really crazy (it's never not crazy, I should rate crazy on a 10 point scale) I forgot my son's show and share item. I was having extreme mommy guilt for having chosen to work in a career I love helping other people's children while sending mine off to school and/or child care. I was feeling really vulnerable in my kids' suburban school with all the moms who have everything together,  are dressed for tennis or in designer duds and heels for a corporate job or don't work outside the home and live more comfortably than I, and who I can feel judging my fat Target clothed body while they walk past with their kids show and share in hand speaking lovingly to their child in the hallway.
My son freaks out. And so do I by responding, "why don't you do what I say"; "I told you to do this"; "you know this is every Wednesday"....I'll spare you the rest as it's not pretty.  I don't even know the theme of this weeks show and share. Fortunately, the kindergarten teacher was there and I asked her. The answer, "The five senses." Well that should be easy...if we had taken care of it the night before!
We stand there, Boy in tears, me feeling that I'm the worst mom on earth. I think that a lot (there have been a couple times that it was really true, those stories later). I start digging through my purse. I have all kinds of receipts that probably should be filed somewhere, trash (my kids think my purse is a trashcan), lots of change because I never put it where it belongs. I'm losing hope at this point. Boy is still crying. I suck. I offer lip gloss, but am rejected because it's too girly. I offer lotion, it's scented too girly. A tissue...too boring. I am ready to quit when I hear it. A shaking sound at the bottom of my bag. That could work! Hearing is a sense! I take it out: Tic Tacs! He loves it. We shake it and hear the sound! We open it and smell the mint. We pop one in our mouth and taste the intense mint. We rub one between our fingers to feel how smooth Tic Tacs are...obviously, the whole time we're seeing the Tic Tacs. And he smiles and hugs me. And I'm no longer feeling like worst mom...for the moment.