Right before I went on vacation to Indiana I noticed that the dog had these sores on his belly that were sort of scabby. Not knowing anything about dogs I turned to my dog expert friend Kelly, who in my opinion knows all things dogs being that she owned and was responsible for a dog, to take a look at his belly. She did so and declared they appeared to be healing. Not trusting this advice, because really how long ago has it been since she owned and was responsible for a dog, I told Tom he should take the dog to the vet. Tom, being the responsible dog owner that he is, responsed that he was not going to do that because he had just taken him to the vet the week before. He had done this because Elliot, after running around the pool deck for eight hours chasing any waterdrops that splashed his way, had cut his paw and was limping. The vet looked it over and declared it healing and recommended putting on neosporin, which Elliot promptly licked off. Bottom line was since he had just been to the vet he wasn't going again, a logic I have yet to follow and am thankful I'm the one responsible for the children.
I left on vacation and when I returned Elliot still had his scabby sores. He still has them today and they make me crazy, but I refuse to take him to the vet because then I would have to explain how long the dog has had these scabby sores and have to admit that we are unresponsible pet owners and have let our dog suffer with scabby sore disease for this long without treatment. A logic I know myself is messed up and rest assure if this were my child he would have already had been to the doctor. Last night the dog ran from chair to chair begging for food while we consumed dinner and he had no trouble doing the hokey pokey with Darcy or playing in the hose with Madison. However, when Tom got home the dog limbed outside to greet him as if his entire left leg were broken in twenty different places. Tom, master dog owner that he is, proceeded to accuse those of us in the house of doing something to his baby. Then he got on the phone and tried to call the vet...at 8:00 AT NIGHT. Of course the vet had already gone home for the day. Elliot spent the rest of the evening limbing if he were up, but mostly lying around watching us all with sad, puppy, dog eyes.
After my shower I worried about blow drying my hair, an activity that excites the dog as soon as he hears the cord being pulled out. He likes to bark and jumps up constantly to try to attack the dryer. It makes blow drying my hair such a treat. But last night I worried how he would respond, but as soon as I pulled out the cord he came tearing around the corner ready to fight, no limp to be seen. As soon as I was finished he limped out of the bedroom back to Tom. Tom made a vet appointment for this evening and since he said it would be impossible for him to take him and I refused to take him Kelly said she would take him.
This morning Elliot popped right out of bed, no limping, and proceeded to have his morning walk around the neighborhood. He did not limp the entire day. Tom then informed me he would take the dog to the vet so I alerted Kelly. Then circumstances occurred that had me going to the vet, along with the girls, to take the dog to meet Tom. Of course, we were on time and Tom wasn't so we took the dog in for his appointment. Eventually Tom appeared and so all four of us, Elliot, the nurse, and the vet were stuffed in this little examination room. I felt it showed we loved our animal. Madison thought it showed we were nuts.
Elliot did not limp for the vet and she couldn't find anything to indicate a problem. The scabby sores were infected, possibly from some allergy, and so he is now on an antibiotic and an antihistomine. We all left the office jolly and full of happy dog ownership, less $100 for the appointment. As soon as we got home Elliot got out of the car and limped inside the house where he plopped down on the floor, sighed, and went to sleep.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Parenting 101
I've been spoiled with the behavior of my girls. I have two kids that, despite their Mason genetics, have turned out way better than I could have hoped. I give myself credit for the most part, along with their father, and so I also take responsibility when the behavior turns and goes down the toilet.
For about a year now my youngest has taken advantage of the amount of freedom we allow her and her sister. I've had to squelch some behavior issues and she has spent some time in solitary confinement, meaning a life without television. She use to have a conscious when it came to naughtiness and she would feel guilt and remorse, but lately she just seems to feel irritation at having to change her ways. That worries me more than the other stuff. This week it all came to a head and I spent one late evening talking with her. The next day it was as if the talk had never happened and we were back to square one.
I blame myself, because in the end isn't it always the parent's fault? I remember being in her shoes a few times. That feeling of "my mother has no idea" and "I'll never treat my kids like she does". The difference is that in my day we feared our parents. We didn't dare do things outside the perimeter our parents set because the chances of getting caught and punished far outweighed any instant fun. We also learned to be sneaky and not to get caught, but there was always that thought that if we did our lives were over. Kids today don't fear us. We haven't installed that fear in them like our parents did. We've been too lax, too friendly, too comfortable, too "I'll never treat my kids like that". I'm not saying I want my daughter to be afraid of me, but I do expect respect and I do expect her to tell the truth.
She and I have worked out an agreement on how to best handle the future, and after two days we are chugging along. Of course, she has nothing else to do having lost the privilege of all electronics, including her phone, ipod, computer, and trips out with friends. She seems to be adapting to the shorter chain quicker then I thought she would so perhaps she was looking for more guidance? I can hope. Her interest in school work has gone up a notch and she is spending more time on homework then she ever did. I'm hoping this attitude keeps up, but I'm also realistic. I don't want to squelch what makes her unique, but then I also don't want her to become unrecognizable.
It is a learning experience this parenting, and one I wouldn't trade for in a million years. It ain't easy and there are no direct answers or a help line, but together the girls and I truck on learning as we go. If only I had more sleep...
For about a year now my youngest has taken advantage of the amount of freedom we allow her and her sister. I've had to squelch some behavior issues and she has spent some time in solitary confinement, meaning a life without television. She use to have a conscious when it came to naughtiness and she would feel guilt and remorse, but lately she just seems to feel irritation at having to change her ways. That worries me more than the other stuff. This week it all came to a head and I spent one late evening talking with her. The next day it was as if the talk had never happened and we were back to square one.
I blame myself, because in the end isn't it always the parent's fault? I remember being in her shoes a few times. That feeling of "my mother has no idea" and "I'll never treat my kids like she does". The difference is that in my day we feared our parents. We didn't dare do things outside the perimeter our parents set because the chances of getting caught and punished far outweighed any instant fun. We also learned to be sneaky and not to get caught, but there was always that thought that if we did our lives were over. Kids today don't fear us. We haven't installed that fear in them like our parents did. We've been too lax, too friendly, too comfortable, too "I'll never treat my kids like that". I'm not saying I want my daughter to be afraid of me, but I do expect respect and I do expect her to tell the truth.
She and I have worked out an agreement on how to best handle the future, and after two days we are chugging along. Of course, she has nothing else to do having lost the privilege of all electronics, including her phone, ipod, computer, and trips out with friends. She seems to be adapting to the shorter chain quicker then I thought she would so perhaps she was looking for more guidance? I can hope. Her interest in school work has gone up a notch and she is spending more time on homework then she ever did. I'm hoping this attitude keeps up, but I'm also realistic. I don't want to squelch what makes her unique, but then I also don't want her to become unrecognizable.
It is a learning experience this parenting, and one I wouldn't trade for in a million years. It ain't easy and there are no direct answers or a help line, but together the girls and I truck on learning as we go. If only I had more sleep...
Monday, August 29, 2011
Cleaning and filing pictures
My computer is revamped and up and running and hopefully virus free. I have gone from Windows XP to Windows 2010 and now must learn the new system, which is always very annoying when Tom updates my computer. One of the things that I've had to do is transfer my old filed emails that I've kept from Outlook 2007 to Outlook 2010. In the process of doing this I found old pictures that were emailed to me and that I kept in a folder marked, "pictures". Since organizing photos is one of my resolutions I've been trying to get these pictures into my picasa and thus into new folders according to date. A job that use to be easy when I had my old system and one that is now making me beat my head against the wall in the new system.
Since I am doing this instead of blogging I thought I would combine the two and post some of these old photos that I'm working with. That is called killing two birds with one stone, a horrible analogy when you think about it, but nonetheless exactly what I'm doing.
Since I am doing this instead of blogging I thought I would combine the two and post some of these old photos that I'm working with. That is called killing two birds with one stone, a horrible analogy when you think about it, but nonetheless exactly what I'm doing.
2001
These were emailed to me by my neighbor Howard who was working with a new camera he had just purchased. He wasn't too thrilled, according to the email, of the blurry one of Darcy.
These were emailed from my sis-in-law, Suz, who always keeps the family informed. Thank goodness she also got informed on a better hairdo!
2002
This picture came from one of the mother's in our ballet group. Miss those guys!
Again from Howard...pics of our pool under construction
2003
Hee hee...from Suz
From my friend Cheryl who took this before the recital
2004
They still are best buds! From Suz.
Yes, alcohol was involved.
2005
This came from an employee from school who has since died. I found several emails from her...odd, but nice to hear her voice. This was a pasta party at school.
Another Suz photo taken here in Florida at Maddy's soccer game. Guess I spoke too soon on Susan's hair...
2006
This was another goodie, yet sad, one. This came from my neighbor Bonnie. This is a picture of our neighbor Garnet, who died two years ago this summer, on her son's motorcycle. Miss her dearly!
This photo came from my Auntie Marilyn who said this photo was "after the Easter party" in California where where lives.
2007
From Cheryl again...this is Sarina and Darcy outside the school playground
Gabby playing basketball (from Suz)
This pic came from my mother who received it from her cousin. Connie is the 4th one from the left and she is holding her boyfriend's hand. He was her first boyfriend.
2008
This is one Kelly took at the annual "Biggest Beach Party Ever". What a couple, huh?
This came from my bro-in-law, Clint, who joyfully takes terrible pictures of me and then emails them out to all the family.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Week one review
I know people are tired of hearing me whine about this early morning routine and how it has kicked my ass, but I can't explain it enough. I am NOT an early morning person. What those early wormers get accomplished in the early hours I prefer to do in the late bat hours. I like the dark, and not the dark of the hour I'm rising now in the morning, but the comes with a moon darkness.
Hours of Sleep: 31 hours and 17 minutes including nights, naps, and moments asleep at stoplights.
Tasks completed before 9 AM: 9 including cleaning, laundry, ironing, and returning of library books.
Every day I awoke with a headache that increased in intensity each day. It was behind my eyeballs and no matter how hard I tried I just couldn't shake it unless I slept. On Friday the headache was gone and so was the feeling of constantly being on a muscle relaxant. After dropping off Darcy yesterday I drove to the library to drop our overdue books in the slot and I found myself closing my eyes at the stoplights and almost drifting off to sleep. Now I know why my friend Kelly blocks off her schedule on her half days on Friday for a long nap. At some point you need that sleep.
Breakfast made: 9
Number of people I whined to about my lack of sleep and terrible new routine: 16 including anyone who asked me how I was like the grocer cashier and a solictor trying to sell me an airconditioning tune-up.
I figured I could make this adjustment in a couple of weeks, but now others in the know are telling me it will be three months until my body regulates itself to this idiotic, not-normal schedule. Three months! When I heard that I think it really hit home that this schedule is here to stay, that it isn't going to magically adjust in a few days to my old days of 7:45 AM wake-up. Next week I'm suppose to return to the gym after dropping off Darcy, but I'm thinking that will be impossible without coming home and falling into bed. I don't know how working people do it. At least as a SAHM I can nap. My friend Cindy, who picks Madison up in the morning, is dying. She too is a night owl and not use to rolling out of bed this early. She now goes into work early and is falling asleep in between working with her patients. It at least makes me feel better that I'm not alone in feeling this way, but I also feel worse for her.
Earliest I went to bed: 10:15 PM...a time I bet I haven't gone to bed at since grade school
Latest I got to bed: 12:15 PM...a time that is impossible to then function at the next day.
The important and bottom line is that I managed. I survived. It is doable with some major adjustments and, despite my hatred of the new schedule, I will suck it up and warrior through it. With a lot of whining along the way... Bare with me.
Number of bags under my eyes: 4
Amounts of caffeine I've consumed: 1 lb.
Hours of Sleep: 31 hours and 17 minutes including nights, naps, and moments asleep at stoplights.
Tasks completed before 9 AM: 9 including cleaning, laundry, ironing, and returning of library books.
Every day I awoke with a headache that increased in intensity each day. It was behind my eyeballs and no matter how hard I tried I just couldn't shake it unless I slept. On Friday the headache was gone and so was the feeling of constantly being on a muscle relaxant. After dropping off Darcy yesterday I drove to the library to drop our overdue books in the slot and I found myself closing my eyes at the stoplights and almost drifting off to sleep. Now I know why my friend Kelly blocks off her schedule on her half days on Friday for a long nap. At some point you need that sleep.
Breakfast made: 9
Number of people I whined to about my lack of sleep and terrible new routine: 16 including anyone who asked me how I was like the grocer cashier and a solictor trying to sell me an airconditioning tune-up.
I figured I could make this adjustment in a couple of weeks, but now others in the know are telling me it will be three months until my body regulates itself to this idiotic, not-normal schedule. Three months! When I heard that I think it really hit home that this schedule is here to stay, that it isn't going to magically adjust in a few days to my old days of 7:45 AM wake-up. Next week I'm suppose to return to the gym after dropping off Darcy, but I'm thinking that will be impossible without coming home and falling into bed. I don't know how working people do it. At least as a SAHM I can nap. My friend Cindy, who picks Madison up in the morning, is dying. She too is a night owl and not use to rolling out of bed this early. She now goes into work early and is falling asleep in between working with her patients. It at least makes me feel better that I'm not alone in feeling this way, but I also feel worse for her.
Earliest I went to bed: 10:15 PM...a time I bet I haven't gone to bed at since grade school
Latest I got to bed: 12:15 PM...a time that is impossible to then function at the next day.
The important and bottom line is that I managed. I survived. It is doable with some major adjustments and, despite my hatred of the new schedule, I will suck it up and warrior through it. With a lot of whining along the way... Bare with me.
Number of bags under my eyes: 4
Amounts of caffeine I've consumed: 1 lb.
Friday, August 26, 2011
What can I get you?
My next job just might be a short order cook in a diner, which will be astonishing to those who know me, but since we got on the new schedule I am frying and mixing and toasting like a top chef. True it has only been four days, but I'm insistent that Madison and Darcy have breakfast before they go to school this year, something they have fought in the past.
The first day was cereal because I hadn't done the grocery shopping yet, but they accompanied me on this excursion and chose things they were willing to eat or try. One of the things I purchased was a package of hash brown potatoes, another item I've never been good at completing edibley, but one Madison loves. I usually end up burning the batch, as Madison reminded me, but I told her that I would get better with practice.
As soon as I wake Madison I head into the kitchen to prep. What she has chosen the night before determines what time I begin so that I can have a hot meal on the table at the time she is ready to sit down. Since she is only allowing herself a 45 minute window from waking to walking out the door time is of the essence. Yesterday I had out my large electric cookware and was frying hash browns and scrambling eggs for my famous, talked-about near and wide scrambled eggs when my husband sleepily walked into the kitchen on his way to walk the dog. He stopped abruptly when he saw me and said, "What are you doing?" in a tone that suggested I had just pulled out everything we owned and set it in the middle of the floor (something that seriously might cause him to have a heart attack). I ignored the comment as I thought what I was doing was self explanatory and so he said to the dog, "Look Elliot, Aunt Jemima is in our kitchen," and I thought, "Ooohhh pancakes should go on my list for next week."
After I finish cooking for Madison I sit and chat with her while she eats, then while she is brushing her teeth, I clean up and make the coffee. She heads out the door and I have a half an hour to blog and drink my coffee while Tom showers. Then I'm whipping him up something hot which he still can't believe is happening. I clean up that mess, wake Darcy, send Tom out the door with his to go cup of coffee, and start Darcy's breakfast. She eats, I clean for the last time, and we both head out the door as I drive her to school. Yesterday I even helped Connie get her breakfast. I'm not real sure how long this will last, but for now I'm on a roll. I've whipped up english muffins with peanut butter, cut up fruit, fried hash browns, made scramble eggs with bacon and cheese, toasted cinnamon and sugar bread, and made sure that juice and water accompany each meal.
The beast is happy with all this activity and he goes from standing and watching me cook to standing and watching whomever is eating at the time. He enjoys whatever may fall on the floor by accident or on purpose, and while he isn't the most reliable taste tester his reactions and hopeful look for more spur me on. The only downside? I too must taste test, thus the change in my side bar to the right. No point in dieting now.
The first day was cereal because I hadn't done the grocery shopping yet, but they accompanied me on this excursion and chose things they were willing to eat or try. One of the things I purchased was a package of hash brown potatoes, another item I've never been good at completing edibley, but one Madison loves. I usually end up burning the batch, as Madison reminded me, but I told her that I would get better with practice.
As soon as I wake Madison I head into the kitchen to prep. What she has chosen the night before determines what time I begin so that I can have a hot meal on the table at the time she is ready to sit down. Since she is only allowing herself a 45 minute window from waking to walking out the door time is of the essence. Yesterday I had out my large electric cookware and was frying hash browns and scrambling eggs for my famous, talked-about near and wide scrambled eggs when my husband sleepily walked into the kitchen on his way to walk the dog. He stopped abruptly when he saw me and said, "What are you doing?" in a tone that suggested I had just pulled out everything we owned and set it in the middle of the floor (something that seriously might cause him to have a heart attack). I ignored the comment as I thought what I was doing was self explanatory and so he said to the dog, "Look Elliot, Aunt Jemima is in our kitchen," and I thought, "Ooohhh pancakes should go on my list for next week."
After I finish cooking for Madison I sit and chat with her while she eats, then while she is brushing her teeth, I clean up and make the coffee. She heads out the door and I have a half an hour to blog and drink my coffee while Tom showers. Then I'm whipping him up something hot which he still can't believe is happening. I clean up that mess, wake Darcy, send Tom out the door with his to go cup of coffee, and start Darcy's breakfast. She eats, I clean for the last time, and we both head out the door as I drive her to school. Yesterday I even helped Connie get her breakfast. I'm not real sure how long this will last, but for now I'm on a roll. I've whipped up english muffins with peanut butter, cut up fruit, fried hash browns, made scramble eggs with bacon and cheese, toasted cinnamon and sugar bread, and made sure that juice and water accompany each meal.
The beast is happy with all this activity and he goes from standing and watching me cook to standing and watching whomever is eating at the time. He enjoys whatever may fall on the floor by accident or on purpose, and while he isn't the most reliable taste tester his reactions and hopeful look for more spur me on. The only downside? I too must taste test, thus the change in my side bar to the right. No point in dieting now.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Connie Foot Photo #29
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Computers r' us
Every day I hear someone gripe about computer problems. If it isn't my mother, it is the voice on the opposite end of the phone from a company I've called for one reason or another who can't take care of me because of computer issues. For me, a computer issue is something that happens to other people because, you see, I have the Computer Guru living in my house. If I have a computer question or something isn't working or I've lost something on my screen, I contact the Computer Guru and BAM I'm back in business. If it is something he needs to take care of personally, I just use another computer and go along with my business until he is home and has fixed the issue.
This summer after returning on vacation I didn't really use my computer. I had my sis-in-law with me and we were way too busy talking to play on the computer. Our daughters, however, did use my computer because it is the one that is hooked to a printer, and they were very busy downloading and printing pictures of Selena Gomez for wall hanging and scrapbooking. Somewhere in their downloading they picked up a virus that when I try to link to a page of a topic I've goggled I end up on another URL. Not a naughty, interesting URL, but one that is obscure and interested in selling me things like pet rocks and blue grass seed. At first I was just annoyed that my computer was taking me in the wrong direction and it never occurred to me there could be a problem. We don't have computer problems here and so I ignored it and managed to copy and paste the address and end up where I wanted to go. The Computer Guru was the one who noticed I had a virus and thus a computer issue.
Tom: "You have a virus."
Me: "Gee, I know I look terrible, but..."
Tom: "On your computer. You didn't know?"
Me: "I haven't even been on my computer."
Tom: "I did what I could, but it is only temporary. I'm not even sure it will work."
Me: "Now that you mention it I did notice something different the other day when I tried to find a coupon for the aquarium. It kept taking me to different sites."
Tom: "I thought you weren't on your computer."
He worked a bit more on my computer and now some protection program pops up every two seconds with a loud popping sound to tell me it has stopped IP1543&^3@8$@ from pulling up on my computer. I muted the sound and eventually learned to work around the pop up, but yesterday things were missing on my computer...like the "start" button. After I minimized something it just disappeared, and when I tried to link to soccer sites it took me to a site to buy antique grandfather clocks.
Me: "I think the protection on my computer is about dried up."
Tom: "I'm going to have to redo your entire computer. You should start writing down all the programs you want to keep."
Me: "I want them all."
Tom: "Just write down what you want because I'll have to reload everything and we don't have backups for some of it."
Me: "Is this one of those times where you work for days and hours on a computer?"
Tom: "It will be a lot of work. Be prepared to be without a computer and programs if you don't write them down."
Me: "Uh, I want them all."
Normally, I wouldn't be concerned other than he will be annoyed and grouchy and I'll have to relearn things he will put on the computer I didn't ask for, but unfortunately for me, I got talked into buying this for him for his birthday:
This summer after returning on vacation I didn't really use my computer. I had my sis-in-law with me and we were way too busy talking to play on the computer. Our daughters, however, did use my computer because it is the one that is hooked to a printer, and they were very busy downloading and printing pictures of Selena Gomez for wall hanging and scrapbooking. Somewhere in their downloading they picked up a virus that when I try to link to a page of a topic I've goggled I end up on another URL. Not a naughty, interesting URL, but one that is obscure and interested in selling me things like pet rocks and blue grass seed. At first I was just annoyed that my computer was taking me in the wrong direction and it never occurred to me there could be a problem. We don't have computer problems here and so I ignored it and managed to copy and paste the address and end up where I wanted to go. The Computer Guru was the one who noticed I had a virus and thus a computer issue.
Tom: "You have a virus."
Me: "Gee, I know I look terrible, but..."
Tom: "On your computer. You didn't know?"
Me: "I haven't even been on my computer."
Tom: "I did what I could, but it is only temporary. I'm not even sure it will work."
Me: "Now that you mention it I did notice something different the other day when I tried to find a coupon for the aquarium. It kept taking me to different sites."
Tom: "I thought you weren't on your computer."
He worked a bit more on my computer and now some protection program pops up every two seconds with a loud popping sound to tell me it has stopped IP1543&^3@8$@ from pulling up on my computer. I muted the sound and eventually learned to work around the pop up, but yesterday things were missing on my computer...like the "start" button. After I minimized something it just disappeared, and when I tried to link to soccer sites it took me to a site to buy antique grandfather clocks.
Me: "I think the protection on my computer is about dried up."
Tom: "I'm going to have to redo your entire computer. You should start writing down all the programs you want to keep."
Me: "I want them all."
Tom: "Just write down what you want because I'll have to reload everything and we don't have backups for some of it."
Me: "Is this one of those times where you work for days and hours on a computer?"
Tom: "It will be a lot of work. Be prepared to be without a computer and programs if you don't write them down."
Me: "Uh, I want them all."
Normally, I wouldn't be concerned other than he will be annoyed and grouchy and I'll have to relearn things he will put on the computer I didn't ask for, but unfortunately for me, I got talked into buying this for him for his birthday:
Good thing I have my Ipad.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Good Morning? Think again.
I am not a morning person. I am not one of those people who talk about how liberating it is to rise early and accompolish half a day's work before the sun even rises. I am not the wife who gets up with her husband to get his coffee ready to hand to him as he walks out the door. I am not an early bird working to get that worm. I am a vampire late nighter, preferring to get things done in the late evening long after the sun has gone to bed and to not rise before 9:00 AM because that is just plain crazy. My friends and family know not to call my house before 10:00 AM on the weekends, holidays, and summers because I will not answer.
I can get up if I have to and do so without grumpiness. I had to wake at seven as a child for school and in the summers for swim team practice. I had to do the same when I was coaching, but I was quite careful in my later years upon scheduling my college classes later in the day and getting jobs that required a later start. My job after moving to Florida didn't even begin until 1:00 PM and ended at 9:30 PM upon which time my co-worker and I would then go out and have dinner and drinks. When I began dating my husband he was a triathelete who thought getting up at five in the morning for a bike, run or swim was very logical. I did it once with him, rising before six to swim the gulf and watch the sun come up before going for breakfast. It was nice, but I didn't join him again. Eventually I brought him over to the dark side, but the addition of the beast is slowly changing him back.
My real last experience with early mornings was after Madison was born. I spent many an early morning watching the five o'clock news and getting the traffic updates while nursing a child who believed in taking her time. She too, like her father, came to her senses in the end and now roams the darkness, sometimes later then myself. Unfortunately, yesterday our late nights and even later mornings came to an end.
School started and with it came a new start time for Madison. Her high school begins at 7:00 which means she has to be at school by 6:45 which means she has to roll out of bed an hour earlier. Which then means her mother has to roll out of bed at the same time in order to drag her out of bed to get to school on time. My clock is now set at 5:45 AM and I can tell you that not even the sun believes in getting up that early. The reasoning behind this genius call has to do with school busing. The school board has gone back and forth with what group of kids should get the early start, and despite calls for it being the elementary children who are usually up early anyway, the board keeps it with the high schoolers because of after school activities and jobs.
The bottom line is that I'm having to get up early. While yesterday was hard today was even harder. I keep cheering myself on enjoying coffee and blogging in the stillness of the house after Madison is gone and before Darcy awakens, but the pounding in my head and behind my eyes makes my pom poms wither and sag. Last night I was ready for bed by 9:30 PM and in bed by 10:15 PM, the only saving grace being that I was asleep by 10:17 PM, something that never happens because my brain usually doesn't shut off after I retire for the night. Last night my brain was asleep before six and it was only through sheer strength that my body stayed on my feet for four more hours. I am also a person that must have eight hours of sleep or eventually it will all catch up on me and then everyone must look out. So my new bedtime is going to have to match my new wake time and that is going to interfere with quite a few things in my life namely Monday Night Football.
I do have the luxuary of being a SAHM and thus I can take a nap during the early morning or afternoon, but I also must get things done here at home and in my life. I have lunches and movies to go to errands to run, chores to do, and personal training that must all be attended to. I'm not sure how I will make it, and believe me I'm already trying to tweak things, but for now I have no choice but to suck it up and hope I don't mistake salt for sugar when preparing dinner with my brain gone and my eyes closed. Lord help us all!
I can get up if I have to and do so without grumpiness. I had to wake at seven as a child for school and in the summers for swim team practice. I had to do the same when I was coaching, but I was quite careful in my later years upon scheduling my college classes later in the day and getting jobs that required a later start. My job after moving to Florida didn't even begin until 1:00 PM and ended at 9:30 PM upon which time my co-worker and I would then go out and have dinner and drinks. When I began dating my husband he was a triathelete who thought getting up at five in the morning for a bike, run or swim was very logical. I did it once with him, rising before six to swim the gulf and watch the sun come up before going for breakfast. It was nice, but I didn't join him again. Eventually I brought him over to the dark side, but the addition of the beast is slowly changing him back.
My real last experience with early mornings was after Madison was born. I spent many an early morning watching the five o'clock news and getting the traffic updates while nursing a child who believed in taking her time. She too, like her father, came to her senses in the end and now roams the darkness, sometimes later then myself. Unfortunately, yesterday our late nights and even later mornings came to an end.
School started and with it came a new start time for Madison. Her high school begins at 7:00 which means she has to be at school by 6:45 which means she has to roll out of bed an hour earlier. Which then means her mother has to roll out of bed at the same time in order to drag her out of bed to get to school on time. My clock is now set at 5:45 AM and I can tell you that not even the sun believes in getting up that early. The reasoning behind this genius call has to do with school busing. The school board has gone back and forth with what group of kids should get the early start, and despite calls for it being the elementary children who are usually up early anyway, the board keeps it with the high schoolers because of after school activities and jobs.
The bottom line is that I'm having to get up early. While yesterday was hard today was even harder. I keep cheering myself on enjoying coffee and blogging in the stillness of the house after Madison is gone and before Darcy awakens, but the pounding in my head and behind my eyes makes my pom poms wither and sag. Last night I was ready for bed by 9:30 PM and in bed by 10:15 PM, the only saving grace being that I was asleep by 10:17 PM, something that never happens because my brain usually doesn't shut off after I retire for the night. Last night my brain was asleep before six and it was only through sheer strength that my body stayed on my feet for four more hours. I am also a person that must have eight hours of sleep or eventually it will all catch up on me and then everyone must look out. So my new bedtime is going to have to match my new wake time and that is going to interfere with quite a few things in my life namely Monday Night Football.
I do have the luxuary of being a SAHM and thus I can take a nap during the early morning or afternoon, but I also must get things done here at home and in my life. I have lunches and movies to go to errands to run, chores to do, and personal training that must all be attended to. I'm not sure how I will make it, and believe me I'm already trying to tweak things, but for now I have no choice but to suck it up and hope I don't mistake salt for sugar when preparing dinner with my brain gone and my eyes closed. Lord help us all!
Monday, August 22, 2011
School year 2011-2012 begins
I worked when I got pregnant with Madison, but we had discussed our options and our feelings before having children and the plan was always for me to stay home. I can remember after she was born the sick feeling I would get in my stomach at the thought of leaving her to go back to work. I was very fortunate that I didn't have to and that we were able to make things work. I love being with my children. I have the best job in the world and I thank my husband all the time for his making it possible for me to raise my children without distractions.
When Madison went off to school for the first time I was a nervous wreck, but she just climbed out of the car, bid me good-bye and headed into the playground to start her school life. I sat in the car and cried. When Darcy set off on her first day she too hopped right out and I cried. Nothing much has changed for me in that respect. I hate the first day of school. I hate the quiet of the house, and I miss them like crazy. I'm not saying that I don't eventually get into the groove and begin to welcome my quiet, but I'm also the mother that enjoys school holidays and the occasional sick day so that I have my kids back where they belong.
School started today and it was more bittersweet for me this year. Madison starts high school, four more years before she heads out on her own for good, and I know that those years will fly by. Darcy heads to school without her sister this year to keep her on the straight and narrow track. I had a dream the night before that I was back in school wandering the halls, and when I sat down in class to receive my test paper from the day before my mother was sitting behind me. I got an F- on the paper, but instead of yelling at me like she would have done back in the day, she patted me and wondered aloud what had happened since she knew I had studied. I'm not a dream reader, but I think that this dream is telling me to start legislating for parents to attend the first day of school with their children so that they can be there for moral guidance and support before sending them out into the world on their own.
My friend and I car pooled this morning with Madison and Heather. We watched them get out of the car in the dark and head toward the door together. As we pulled away I noticed they had stopped and Madison was digging through her backpack. My friend wondered if we should go back. We decided we had to let them be. By the time she dropped me off Madison had sent me the following text, "Forgot my schedule, help." That dream is definitely telling me something.
I texted back her schedule, wished her luck, and sent love. Darcy's drop off was the same, but weird for me without Madison. Darcy is going to enjoy being in school without her sister looking over her shoulder. I dropped her off in the drop off lane and then parked to pay for lunches, the football team, and a snack card.
I drove away from school with my empty car, kid-free, a bit sad and very tired. I'm proud of both my kids, and I know they will do fine, but that doesn't mean I won't miss them. Only 11 more days until Labor Day!
When Madison went off to school for the first time I was a nervous wreck, but she just climbed out of the car, bid me good-bye and headed into the playground to start her school life. I sat in the car and cried. When Darcy set off on her first day she too hopped right out and I cried. Nothing much has changed for me in that respect. I hate the first day of school. I hate the quiet of the house, and I miss them like crazy. I'm not saying that I don't eventually get into the groove and begin to welcome my quiet, but I'm also the mother that enjoys school holidays and the occasional sick day so that I have my kids back where they belong.
School started today and it was more bittersweet for me this year. Madison starts high school, four more years before she heads out on her own for good, and I know that those years will fly by. Darcy heads to school without her sister this year to keep her on the straight and narrow track. I had a dream the night before that I was back in school wandering the halls, and when I sat down in class to receive my test paper from the day before my mother was sitting behind me. I got an F- on the paper, but instead of yelling at me like she would have done back in the day, she patted me and wondered aloud what had happened since she knew I had studied. I'm not a dream reader, but I think that this dream is telling me to start legislating for parents to attend the first day of school with their children so that they can be there for moral guidance and support before sending them out into the world on their own.
My friend and I car pooled this morning with Madison and Heather. We watched them get out of the car in the dark and head toward the door together. As we pulled away I noticed they had stopped and Madison was digging through her backpack. My friend wondered if we should go back. We decided we had to let them be. By the time she dropped me off Madison had sent me the following text, "Forgot my schedule, help." That dream is definitely telling me something.
I texted back her schedule, wished her luck, and sent love. Darcy's drop off was the same, but weird for me without Madison. Darcy is going to enjoy being in school without her sister looking over her shoulder. I dropped her off in the drop off lane and then parked to pay for lunches, the football team, and a snack card.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Happy Birthday to the beast
As the SAHM I am expected to remember all the obscure and important details in my children's lives, and since I regard the dog as another child, I have his information as well. I mentioned to the girls that Elliot's birthday was at the end of August sometime. I thought the 22nd. Turns out, upon further investigation of his papers, he was born on the 21st. A fact no one remembered.
The kids and I decided he needed a cake and some presents and so we spent Saturday shopping. We ended up purchasing some fancy dog cookies instead of a cake and we got him three gifts which Madison wrapped when we got home. This morning we gave Elliot a cookie and wished him a happy birthday. Darcy's plan was to have a little party and invite some dogs from the neighborhood over for some cookies, but Elliot had other plans.
He found the three presents and sniffed out the one he wanted. He carried it off and opened it, pulling it off piece by piece, spitting out each piece as he ripped. When he finally unwrapped it, with some girl help, he carried off the bone and spent a good thirty minutes killing it. By this time the girls had wandered off and started packing their backpacks for tomorrow's first day of school. Sneakily, since everyone was busy, Elliot casually wandering back to where the presents were and picked up another one.
This one was a ball and he had no trouble unwrapping it. He was quite happy with it and spent a good fifteen minutes squeaking it and throwing it up in the air. He pushed it around with his paw and barked at it, squeaked it some more, tossed it across the room and than ran after it. It was the greatest toy ever.
Later we sang happy birthday to him, without the neighborhood dogs, and he got another cookie. Happy Birthday little Elliot, two years old today.
Later we sang happy birthday to him, without the neighborhood dogs, and he got another cookie. Happy Birthday little Elliot, two years old today.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Dog Duty 101
This week my husband was off on some secret law enforcement "share your ideas" meetings in Washington D.C. and the girls and I were left on dog duty. Dog duty in this house is when Tom gets up in the early morning before work to poop and walk the dog and when he arrives home in the late evening to generally do the same. The dog is very use to this routine of spending quality time with his master and if I should happen to awaken early on a weekend morning the dog refuses to even come outside with me. In fact he won't even leave our bedroom and usually jumps up on our bed to lie down in the spot I have just vacated to wait for his master to awaken. I have come to enjoy this end of dog ownership as the rest of the time dog duty falls to me. If the dog needs to go outside at anytime during the day or evening he doesn't ring a bell, he pokes me. It doesn't matter if Tom is at home at this time either. The dog still pokes me. But in early morning the dog will jump up on the bed and paw at Tom to let him know he has overslept and their time together is dwindling.
Because the weather right now is summer weather, aka hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk, Tom has been getting up before six to take the pooch for his morning run. My summer, especially the latter part of it, has been spent staying up until the wee hours of the next day and then sleeping until it is hot enough to have that egg for brunch. Taking over Tom dog duty meant readjusting my sleep schedule, and I was none too happy about this as I'm not a morning person. But I figured since school started next week it would be a good precursor to starting that schedule, and so I set my alarm for 6:30 to walk the dog. I was taking this shift because I didn't want the girls out walking the dog by themselves that early.
The first evening I did not get to bed at a reasonable time and when the alarm sounded I wanted to ignore it and roll over, but I was determined to show my family that this dog duty nonsense was doable and so I got up, dressed, and headed out into the pre-dawn darkness with the dog. We walked, chatted with all the neighbors and dogs that usually meet up with Tom and Elliot at that time, and he did his business and seemed quite content. I managed to stay up and alert the entire day, but again did not get to bed at a reasonable time, and thus didn't make it out of bed the second day until 6:45.
I slowly rolled out of bed and got ready, grumbling some under my breath about the stupid school system that forced parents to get their children to school at unreasonable times as I realized that by this time next week Madison will already be at school. Elliot and I walked outside to find the skies black and the clouds rumbling. As we headed down the street lightning began flashing and the dog quickly did his business and then turned around letting me know he had no intention of continuing his walk in these type of conditions. I came inside and waited for two hours while the thunder and lightning continued without any rain. Somewhere in those two hours I tried to get the dog to go for a walk, but he sat his butt down in the driveway and pulled at the leash in the opposite direction saying, "You want to kill yourself go ahead, but leave me out of this." I couldn't go back to bed as it was the day of the Foot God and so I just tried to make do. Madison too was up as she was working at readying her body for next week and so we read the paper and played some on our Ipads. At 8:45 the rain came and I gave up walking the dog. I went back to bed for 45 minutes.
The third day I set my alarm for 7:00, but somewhere, somehow it got reset to 7:30. I panicked and jumped out of bed apologizing to the dog who was in my bathroom asleep. Asleep? Quietly I snuck back into bed and joined him in his slumber. He woke me at sometime after 8:00 and we were out the door at 8:20 where we both suffered through the short version of his normal walk. We returned home drenched in sweat and agreed that that time was no time to be walking. Later that day I took an hour nap.
The last day it was almost nine before we made it out the door. Since Tom's departure the dog kept waking at all hours of the night howling. I would wake wondering if a burglar was breaking in and then lie in bed annoyed at his awakening me for nothing. Somewhere in the night he would come into our bathroom to sleep and whimper and make awful groaning noises. Once it was before six and I jumped out of bed thinking he was dying only to find him sound asleep having some sort of awful dream. By the time any alarm sounded that last day he and I were over that time and we both rolled over and went back to sleep. We paid for that miserable walk.
Last night the master returned, but I could hardly keep my eyes open to hear his trip stories. I went to bed before anyone and had a great night sleep for the first time since he left. I didn't set any alarms and didn't worry about walking the dog, but when he whined pitifully after 8:00 this morning I thought I should get up and walk him one last time and let Tom sleep. He just looked at me and then looked at Tom and telepathically told me, "My time with you is over. Go back to bed." So I did.
Because the weather right now is summer weather, aka hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk, Tom has been getting up before six to take the pooch for his morning run. My summer, especially the latter part of it, has been spent staying up until the wee hours of the next day and then sleeping until it is hot enough to have that egg for brunch. Taking over Tom dog duty meant readjusting my sleep schedule, and I was none too happy about this as I'm not a morning person. But I figured since school started next week it would be a good precursor to starting that schedule, and so I set my alarm for 6:30 to walk the dog. I was taking this shift because I didn't want the girls out walking the dog by themselves that early.
The first evening I did not get to bed at a reasonable time and when the alarm sounded I wanted to ignore it and roll over, but I was determined to show my family that this dog duty nonsense was doable and so I got up, dressed, and headed out into the pre-dawn darkness with the dog. We walked, chatted with all the neighbors and dogs that usually meet up with Tom and Elliot at that time, and he did his business and seemed quite content. I managed to stay up and alert the entire day, but again did not get to bed at a reasonable time, and thus didn't make it out of bed the second day until 6:45.
I slowly rolled out of bed and got ready, grumbling some under my breath about the stupid school system that forced parents to get their children to school at unreasonable times as I realized that by this time next week Madison will already be at school. Elliot and I walked outside to find the skies black and the clouds rumbling. As we headed down the street lightning began flashing and the dog quickly did his business and then turned around letting me know he had no intention of continuing his walk in these type of conditions. I came inside and waited for two hours while the thunder and lightning continued without any rain. Somewhere in those two hours I tried to get the dog to go for a walk, but he sat his butt down in the driveway and pulled at the leash in the opposite direction saying, "You want to kill yourself go ahead, but leave me out of this." I couldn't go back to bed as it was the day of the Foot God and so I just tried to make do. Madison too was up as she was working at readying her body for next week and so we read the paper and played some on our Ipads. At 8:45 the rain came and I gave up walking the dog. I went back to bed for 45 minutes.
The third day I set my alarm for 7:00, but somewhere, somehow it got reset to 7:30. I panicked and jumped out of bed apologizing to the dog who was in my bathroom asleep. Asleep? Quietly I snuck back into bed and joined him in his slumber. He woke me at sometime after 8:00 and we were out the door at 8:20 where we both suffered through the short version of his normal walk. We returned home drenched in sweat and agreed that that time was no time to be walking. Later that day I took an hour nap.
The last day it was almost nine before we made it out the door. Since Tom's departure the dog kept waking at all hours of the night howling. I would wake wondering if a burglar was breaking in and then lie in bed annoyed at his awakening me for nothing. Somewhere in the night he would come into our bathroom to sleep and whimper and make awful groaning noises. Once it was before six and I jumped out of bed thinking he was dying only to find him sound asleep having some sort of awful dream. By the time any alarm sounded that last day he and I were over that time and we both rolled over and went back to sleep. We paid for that miserable walk.
Last night the master returned, but I could hardly keep my eyes open to hear his trip stories. I went to bed before anyone and had a great night sleep for the first time since he left. I didn't set any alarms and didn't worry about walking the dog, but when he whined pitifully after 8:00 this morning I thought I should get up and walk him one last time and let Tom sleep. He just looked at me and then looked at Tom and telepathically told me, "My time with you is over. Go back to bed." So I did.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Dr. Mason-Boos is in the house!
A few years ago I made the comment that I thought scrubs looked like very comfortable things to wear around. Living in Florida we are surrounded by people in scrubs, usually in some medical profession. They wear them to the grocery, the mall, the gas station, and coming or going from work. They have cartoon scrubs, and geometrical shape scrubs, and purple scrubs. I thought they would be the perfect thing to wear instead of worrying every day whether my outfit matched. Plus I figured if I wore them then everyone would assume I was an important physician.
Soon after I became friends with a respiratory therapist who always had scrubs in her car, but who didn't wear them around town, and who just shook her head at me wanting them. Not long after I went with her to the uniform store where she shopped for her scrubs, and I was shocked at how expensive those things were. While she tried on different scrubs I wandered around the store choosing the ones that I would wear if I could afford them. I did not purchase any, but every time I visited Connie to an from hospitals, nursing facilities, and rehab facilities, I talked about how I needed to get some scrubs.
About four months ago Connie gave me one of the two pairs of scrubs she has acquired from her various hospitalizations. I decided to accept them and wear them around the house to try them out. Turns out I was right. They are the most comfy, loose fitting things I have put on besides pajamas. They are too large for me, but I enjoy putting them on after a shower to just lounge around my house. I wear them outside my house, but only in my neighborhood where I have informed my neighbors I am now a neurosurgeon having gone through years of school while they weren't paying attention.
I love these scrubs so much I took them to Indiana with me when I went on vacation. They saved my life in my brother's 60 degree basement where I lived. Everyone took to calling me Dr. Mason (I'm still a Mason around my brother and the family) and when I would come upstairs in them after donning them I would announce that the doctor was done with surgery and was in the house.
One night Kelly was over and she and Darcy decided we all needed to head out for a Walmart shopping trip. I was in my scrubs lounging and so I told them to go ahead, but they insisted I come, and when I whined about having to change clothes they asked what happen to my wanting to be thought of as a doctor. So I climbed into the car and went public in my scrubs.
As we crossed the parking lot I gave everyone a lecture about the lateness of the evening and how we were there for certain items and how I didn't want to spend hours browsing because I had had a long day of surgery. The latter part was said as we entered the store and the greeter in a wheelchair asked me as I passed what hospital I worked at. Without breaking my stride, I told him I worked at the first hospital that popped into my head, and I kept on walking. He shouted after me that he knew all about hospitals having spent a lot of time in them and that he just knew I worked at one. I wished him a lovely evening as I continued on, Darcy protesting all the way that I wasn't telling the truth. When we got out of sight of the Walmart greeter I shushed her and told her it was just easier to not have to explain my whole scrub obsession to a stranger.
And then I smiled because I knew people would assume I was a doctor in these things! I obviously just have that presence.
Soon after I became friends with a respiratory therapist who always had scrubs in her car, but who didn't wear them around town, and who just shook her head at me wanting them. Not long after I went with her to the uniform store where she shopped for her scrubs, and I was shocked at how expensive those things were. While she tried on different scrubs I wandered around the store choosing the ones that I would wear if I could afford them. I did not purchase any, but every time I visited Connie to an from hospitals, nursing facilities, and rehab facilities, I talked about how I needed to get some scrubs.
About four months ago Connie gave me one of the two pairs of scrubs she has acquired from her various hospitalizations. I decided to accept them and wear them around the house to try them out. Turns out I was right. They are the most comfy, loose fitting things I have put on besides pajamas. They are too large for me, but I enjoy putting them on after a shower to just lounge around my house. I wear them outside my house, but only in my neighborhood where I have informed my neighbors I am now a neurosurgeon having gone through years of school while they weren't paying attention.
I love these scrubs so much I took them to Indiana with me when I went on vacation. They saved my life in my brother's 60 degree basement where I lived. Everyone took to calling me Dr. Mason (I'm still a Mason around my brother and the family) and when I would come upstairs in them after donning them I would announce that the doctor was done with surgery and was in the house.
One night Kelly was over and she and Darcy decided we all needed to head out for a Walmart shopping trip. I was in my scrubs lounging and so I told them to go ahead, but they insisted I come, and when I whined about having to change clothes they asked what happen to my wanting to be thought of as a doctor. So I climbed into the car and went public in my scrubs.
As we crossed the parking lot I gave everyone a lecture about the lateness of the evening and how we were there for certain items and how I didn't want to spend hours browsing because I had had a long day of surgery. The latter part was said as we entered the store and the greeter in a wheelchair asked me as I passed what hospital I worked at. Without breaking my stride, I told him I worked at the first hospital that popped into my head, and I kept on walking. He shouted after me that he knew all about hospitals having spent a lot of time in them and that he just knew I worked at one. I wished him a lovely evening as I continued on, Darcy protesting all the way that I wasn't telling the truth. When we got out of sight of the Walmart greeter I shushed her and told her it was just easier to not have to explain my whole scrub obsession to a stranger.
And then I smiled because I knew people would assume I was a doctor in these things! I obviously just have that presence.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Connie Foot Photo #28
When the nurse took off the bandage this week we were all pleasantly surprised to see how the hole had shrunk what looked like twice what it normally shrinks in a week. It looked very healthy, but still has that one edge that needs to fill in before he can do a skin graft and close it completely.
The Foot God brought in the newest doctor to their practice to examine the wound. He too was another cute doctor, and I'm wondering if maybe I should put on my scrubs and volunteer in this office. I can see me surrounding by hottie foot doctors all day long, but it would have to be something desk related as Connie's and Sid's wounds are about all I can handle in that department. This doctor quietly watched the Foot God work, but he had a sense of humor, the kind that is mostly missing for the most part from the God, and he chuckled often at the Mason girls' jabs.
Her ankle was a little swollen and when we brought that to the Foot God's attention he looked at it, asked if the wrap had gone that far up the ankle, and then informed us that her skin had "squirted" above the wrap. Connie wanted to know if that was a medical term. The new doctor snickered. The Foot God shrugged his shoulders and that was the end of anymore discussion about ankle swelling.
She continues with what she has been doing. Same old, same old.
Her ankle was a little swollen and when we brought that to the Foot God's attention he looked at it, asked if the wrap had gone that far up the ankle, and then informed us that her skin had "squirted" above the wrap. Connie wanted to know if that was a medical term. The new doctor snickered. The Foot God shrugged his shoulders and that was the end of anymore discussion about ankle swelling.
She continues with what she has been doing. Same old, same old.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Beaching it
So far this summer we have hit the beach three times. The first time we went with Kelly, the second with Susan, and this last time I took Darcy and her friend, Savanna. With Kelly the gulf was typical, flat and calm, but with Susan we had little waves. We spent quite some time out in the gulf catching waves and floating up and down on rafts as the waves took us. The bottom wasn't deep and the water was warm and fairly clear, as clear as we get here on our side.
Unfortunately I didn't get pictures of how high the waves were because I was too busy riding them. I did get out after two hours and sit in the surf taking the above photos, but by then the waves had already started dying down. We went into a surf shop later that evening and the guy told us it had been this way for a couple of days now due to some westerly winds and storms churning around out in the gulf. Whatever it was, we had a blast!
Chill-axing in the gentle waves as the sun sets
Where is Madison?
There she is!
This week when we got to the beach the tide was as high as I have ever seen it, except when hurricanes blow through. We had to put our chair parallel to the walkway so that our stuff would not get wet. The buoy, that last week we had rowed out to on our floats, looked like it was miles away. The waves were the type of waves you would see on the opposite coast and the bottom was very deep and the water filthy from all the churning. We spent two hours just riding the waves into the shore. The waves just kept coming and coming so that as you rode one wave and got to the shallow area, another wave would come in behind that one and push you even farther up the beach.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Working my way through the system one byte at a time
My eldest daughter begins high school next week. We She is going from the private sector into the public sector and so far it has been quite the challenge. We began this journey last school year when she had to choose a school. Yes, you read that right. She had to choose a school. In this county there is a zoned school and then there are magnet schools, which in a easy way of explanation that means to me, schools for brighter kids. Like all parents I claim to have a brighter child, and so I attended all of the magnet school meetings in order to pick the best program and school for my daughter. Before that process could begin, however, I had to go to the school board and register her. By doing this I received a user name and password that would let me into the school's secret page on it's website.
After we attended all the meetings, we had to narrow down our search to choices, preferably three. We were told hundreds of times how hard it is to get into these programs (an indication to me that the zoned system is a tad flawed) and that we should rank our choices in the order of importance. The program we actually chose as our first choice was one that had entrance requirements. This program was at two different schools quite far away from where we live. Madison shadowed at one of the schools, but before we could shadow the second school the school board met and decided they needed to open this program in a third school. Low and behold we lucked out and the program was started at our zoned school. What this means is that she will be in an area with only the kids in this program, thrown into the traditional population for only her elective. She shadowed the school, liked it just fine, and we put it down as our first choice via the school's website where I used my user name and password to enter, not the secret site, but the student reservation site, and she got in. But not before I had several unsuccessful attempts to get in, had to march back to the school board and get my password changed, had several more unsuccessful attempts, which turned out to be the website's problems, and finally got in two days before the deadline ended.
Next we had to register her for classes at the school. The guidance counselor made her way through all of the middle schools to aid in this, but because we were in the private sector we had to make our own arrangements. Not difficult for me as I am a SAHM, but quite difficult for working parents as the school runs on school hours for the most part. I emailed the counselor, set up an appointment, met with her, and filled out mounds of paperwork with several different women seated at various different desks situated around many different turns and twisting corners of the building. When that was done I breathed a sigh of relief and got back to the task of finishing 8th grade.
That lasted a few days before we had to attend an orientation of the program where they told us more and more about the program, introduced us to the teachers, got the students to mingle, and served us cake, which kicked them up a notch in my book. We were given more mounds of paperwork to read and fill out, and I promptly came home and put it in an area of my desk where I intended to view it, but where it instead collected dust all summer long.
Last week the bus schedule came on a yellow card in the mail. It told us where to go and what time the bus would arrive. I also read in the paper that the website had been revamped. Hallelujah! Because that website, for lack of a better word, sucked. A few days later I was told via other parents that Madison's schedule was on the secret parent site within the website. Yesterday I went on the revamped website and attempted to log in. I logged in once and an error message informed me that after 5 unsuccessful attempts of trying to log in I was shut out of the system and could not try again for two hours. Huh? One equals five? I ignored it, tried again, got the same message, said screw it and left my computer. Last night I tried again. This time I actually attempted it five times before the message appeared and I was kicked out of the system. Two hours later I tried again, this time on my Ipad, and instead of it going to the secret site to tell me I sucked as a logger inner, it said it was down "due to maintenance". Damn skippy it needed some maintenance. I felt much relief as this was not a problem due to user fault and I went to bed.
This morning I sat down with the Ipad, said a little prayer, and logged in successfully. I was now in the secret site within the school website. I was finally in the public sector getting use of the tax money I've paid all these years. I perused the site some more and saw that a new palm scanning system was going to be used for paying for lunches. I would need to sign up for this, put money in the account, and to do so would need my child's ten digit secret student ID. I looked around on the site and saw a link that said "student". Figuring this is where I would find the student ID number, as it wasn't with any of the paperwork I had, I clicked on it. It took me to a site full of student information headings such as address, school, classes, and ID number, but instead of her name and information under these headings, it said, "no student listed". You can probably imagine my panic.
I tried and tried over and over to find her in the system. I know now this crappy revamped site and how to maneuver through it with my eyes closed, but there was no Madison. Somewhere in the notes I had jotted down last night was a phone number and I dialed it for help. Of course the lines were busy, and of course I waited for over twenty minutes with an automated voice telling me how important my call was to all of the workers who were sitting at their desks assisting people with this crappy website and taking money out of the pockets of teachers in order to do so. Eventually I got the voice of a human who sounded as if she were 95 years old and quite frail. I pictured a little white haired lady in her nursing home wheelchair sitting at one of those hospital wheely trays that fit under the bed with an old rotatory phone on it ready to assist me. I wanted to start ranting and raving, but because I had this picture of her in my head, I tried to keep it simple. I told her my problem, and in between the phone breaking up (something that is happening now on my end), she informed me that because my daughter had never attended public school before she couldn't be linked to my account until she did. Huh? Does that make any sense at all? She is registered, accepted, and enrolled, but until she attends she isn't in the computer system? What she will magically appear the first day she enters the building? Are there people sitting at the computer just waiting for her to cross the threshold so that they can then hit a button that allows her into the county's website? Ridiculous!
I explained that I needed her student ID so that I could get her enrolled in this palm scanning system, put money into her account, and the little old lady said, "What dear? Palm scanning? What?" I explained the system to her as simply as I could, and somewhere something I said caused a bell to ding in her head and she told me she would gladly look up my daughter' number (whew apparently she does have one of those), but that the system was currently down and thus she would be unable to assist me in this matter. Her suggestion was to call the school to get that number, but perhaps today wasn't a good day for that, it being the first day of school for teachers and administration.
So I sat looking at the county website and pictured my tax dollars burning into pieces and floating through the air. Then I popped on over to the actual school's website just for a change of pace to and to see if they had any new information, and was instantly reminded, in huge lettering, that my daughter school's name is the Packers. Just to rub salt into an open wound...
After we attended all the meetings, we had to narrow down our search to choices, preferably three. We were told hundreds of times how hard it is to get into these programs (an indication to me that the zoned system is a tad flawed) and that we should rank our choices in the order of importance. The program we actually chose as our first choice was one that had entrance requirements. This program was at two different schools quite far away from where we live. Madison shadowed at one of the schools, but before we could shadow the second school the school board met and decided they needed to open this program in a third school. Low and behold we lucked out and the program was started at our zoned school. What this means is that she will be in an area with only the kids in this program, thrown into the traditional population for only her elective. She shadowed the school, liked it just fine, and we put it down as our first choice via the school's website where I used my user name and password to enter, not the secret site, but the student reservation site, and she got in. But not before I had several unsuccessful attempts to get in, had to march back to the school board and get my password changed, had several more unsuccessful attempts, which turned out to be the website's problems, and finally got in two days before the deadline ended.
Next we had to register her for classes at the school. The guidance counselor made her way through all of the middle schools to aid in this, but because we were in the private sector we had to make our own arrangements. Not difficult for me as I am a SAHM, but quite difficult for working parents as the school runs on school hours for the most part. I emailed the counselor, set up an appointment, met with her, and filled out mounds of paperwork with several different women seated at various different desks situated around many different turns and twisting corners of the building. When that was done I breathed a sigh of relief and got back to the task of finishing 8th grade.
That lasted a few days before we had to attend an orientation of the program where they told us more and more about the program, introduced us to the teachers, got the students to mingle, and served us cake, which kicked them up a notch in my book. We were given more mounds of paperwork to read and fill out, and I promptly came home and put it in an area of my desk where I intended to view it, but where it instead collected dust all summer long.
Last week the bus schedule came on a yellow card in the mail. It told us where to go and what time the bus would arrive. I also read in the paper that the website had been revamped. Hallelujah! Because that website, for lack of a better word, sucked. A few days later I was told via other parents that Madison's schedule was on the secret parent site within the website. Yesterday I went on the revamped website and attempted to log in. I logged in once and an error message informed me that after 5 unsuccessful attempts of trying to log in I was shut out of the system and could not try again for two hours. Huh? One equals five? I ignored it, tried again, got the same message, said screw it and left my computer. Last night I tried again. This time I actually attempted it five times before the message appeared and I was kicked out of the system. Two hours later I tried again, this time on my Ipad, and instead of it going to the secret site to tell me I sucked as a logger inner, it said it was down "due to maintenance". Damn skippy it needed some maintenance. I felt much relief as this was not a problem due to user fault and I went to bed.
This morning I sat down with the Ipad, said a little prayer, and logged in successfully. I was now in the secret site within the school website. I was finally in the public sector getting use of the tax money I've paid all these years. I perused the site some more and saw that a new palm scanning system was going to be used for paying for lunches. I would need to sign up for this, put money in the account, and to do so would need my child's ten digit secret student ID. I looked around on the site and saw a link that said "student". Figuring this is where I would find the student ID number, as it wasn't with any of the paperwork I had, I clicked on it. It took me to a site full of student information headings such as address, school, classes, and ID number, but instead of her name and information under these headings, it said, "no student listed". You can probably imagine my panic.
I tried and tried over and over to find her in the system. I know now this crappy revamped site and how to maneuver through it with my eyes closed, but there was no Madison. Somewhere in the notes I had jotted down last night was a phone number and I dialed it for help. Of course the lines were busy, and of course I waited for over twenty minutes with an automated voice telling me how important my call was to all of the workers who were sitting at their desks assisting people with this crappy website and taking money out of the pockets of teachers in order to do so. Eventually I got the voice of a human who sounded as if she were 95 years old and quite frail. I pictured a little white haired lady in her nursing home wheelchair sitting at one of those hospital wheely trays that fit under the bed with an old rotatory phone on it ready to assist me. I wanted to start ranting and raving, but because I had this picture of her in my head, I tried to keep it simple. I told her my problem, and in between the phone breaking up (something that is happening now on my end), she informed me that because my daughter had never attended public school before she couldn't be linked to my account until she did. Huh? Does that make any sense at all? She is registered, accepted, and enrolled, but until she attends she isn't in the computer system? What she will magically appear the first day she enters the building? Are there people sitting at the computer just waiting for her to cross the threshold so that they can then hit a button that allows her into the county's website? Ridiculous!
I explained that I needed her student ID so that I could get her enrolled in this palm scanning system, put money into her account, and the little old lady said, "What dear? Palm scanning? What?" I explained the system to her as simply as I could, and somewhere something I said caused a bell to ding in her head and she told me she would gladly look up my daughter' number (whew apparently she does have one of those), but that the system was currently down and thus she would be unable to assist me in this matter. Her suggestion was to call the school to get that number, but perhaps today wasn't a good day for that, it being the first day of school for teachers and administration.
So I sat looking at the county website and pictured my tax dollars burning into pieces and floating through the air. Then I popped on over to the actual school's website just for a change of pace to and to see if they had any new information, and was instantly reminded, in huge lettering, that my daughter school's name is the Packers. Just to rub salt into an open wound...
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Wondering....
- Why do magazine companies keep emailing me after I ordered a magazine subscription for a year? Do they really think I want to keep ordering years each time I receive the email?
- Why Blockbuster Express rents movies for $4.99 when Redbox is only $1.00? Do they think people would rather pay more?
- Why the guy sitting next to me in the grocery store is staring at me? Does he recognize me?
- Why people wear jeans in the middle of a Florida summer? Are they cold?
- Why I am so tired? Did I do anything today that warrants that feeling?
- Why the dental/ortho office is so packed today? What? Everyone has their six month check-up today too?
- Who are the "the many" that are worrying about this new blood test that reveals the sex of an unborn baby as early as 6 weeks? They don't have their own issues to worry about?
- Why I don't carry food in this gigantic new purse I bought? Would that be too much for me to remember?
- Who wrote the book of love? No, I know who wrote that...just kidding.
- How we are ever going to manage getting back into the school mode? Is earlier really better?
Friday, August 12, 2011
Connie Foot Photo #27
This week was just a check-up, change the bandaging, and re-accessing the foot. Because the bandage hadn't been changed there was lots of gunk around the wound from wetness, but the wound is filling in quite nicely. We could see where it had filled in on the upper right hand side in just a week and where it needs to continue to fill in in the lower right hand side.
Until another apligraft is used on another patient she will continue to have nursing care at the house every other day for bandage changes. He wants her to continue her collagen based medication at home on the wound to help fill in that lower side. She is getting frustrated about being home bound and wheelchair bound, but until he gives the okay to move about freely she continues on this path. It is getting old.
She enjoyed having Susan and her granddaughter to visit with last week, and to break up the loneliness of being stuck at home. She is cutting down on medications to help with the healing process and is getting along fairly well with that.
Susan and I did some research and discovered that 60 to 70% of the 24 million diabetic patients in the US have charcot foot. While Connie isn't diabetic, it does explain why the Foot God doesn't seem too panicked by her condition. Every day he has someone in his office with this same ailment. A lot of these patients have the condition their entire lives. We are hoping that Connie will be a better healer so that she can get back to her life on foot.
Susan and I did some research and discovered that 60 to 70% of the 24 million diabetic patients in the US have charcot foot. While Connie isn't diabetic, it does explain why the Foot God doesn't seem too panicked by her condition. Every day he has someone in his office with this same ailment. A lot of these patients have the condition their entire lives. We are hoping that Connie will be a better healer so that she can get back to her life on foot.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
More summer va-ca photos
Crab apples in Susan's neighborhood (at least she thinks that is what it is...we didn't try it)
Little Ollie doing his business in the neighborhood
Cousins spending quality time together
Ollie smoking
Susan happy to be back with her palm trees
Kelly and Cara attempt homemade mac & cheese (the kids hated it)
Gabby visiting Elliot in his home
Beach time
Aahhh...Florida
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