I H8 TECHNOLOGY!!!

Spent the past few days laptopless...so, my savvy compatrots, should I replace motherboard or just say eff-it and start anew?

Flag Day

I am ashamed to admit it, but we don't currently have a flag! It blew away last summer. (It's flown from outside our bedroom window, so definitely an act of weather, not teens/terrorists)

However, at the family picnic today, I wore a red tanktop, a white blouse, blue jeans....and my totally patriotic stars and stripes Birkenstocks....and in so doing, horrified the more footwear-fashion-conscious of my children accordingly.

Ha!

HMD#31: Athlete's Foot...

...belongs in his mouth. Or perhaps it should be up his....okay never mind.

As noted in a recent dispatch, there have been a number of scandals and fist fights at the local quasi-Catholic high school, and the Athlete started one of 'em. As was also noted, Princess was not pleased that he did so, and they had a tiff about it that escalated into a full-on fight, wherein he raised his voice and let fly with some expletives.

Princess, being a princess, doesn't do well with that sort of thing. Not that hearing foul language is particularly shocking to her at this stage of the game, but having it directed at her as an outlet or as an unfortunate side of a young adult male meltdown....not so much. As with the gym class brawl, his response was disproportionate to the offense. So she stopped the conversation and post-nuclear winter has set in. He attempted to lobby me for help, I reiterated to him the lack of manners and impropriety of the behavior involved...and he started in on me with the raised voice and language - not a personal attack, but a lot of frustration that no one will agree that his thuggery was justifiable.

Not cool. HeloMom went yard on the boy and set him straight on some basics about how to treat females he cares about - if he wants said females to be part of his life, anyway. Princess was not amused that the Queen was treated with disrespect by the Athlete. That, to her, was worse than his treatment of her. Nobody messes with her HeloMommy. (Hee!)

Dozens of hollow-pologies ("I'm sorry for what I said to you and your mom, but not for what I did to that kid") and as many dozen roses later, Princess is not yielding. He cannot understand why. She has explained that her values and his may be too divergent to make the relationship viable. He is in true distress. She is cordial, but not cuddly. She does not think she can go back to the way things were, because he lacks not just respect for her and/or for her mother, but he lacks sufficient self control to never have "gone there" in the first place. A wise observation. But now what?!?

Prom is in a week.

Are you there vodka? It's me, Kit...

May Daze

Ugh...what a week. For some reason, I stupidly believed that I could repaint my kitchen in 2-3 days.

Yeah....NO.

For starters, I now know that I have a total of 27 cabinets in my kitchen, and 13 drawers. So I had to empty all that, sorting and dumping stuff as I went. You don't want to know what my dining room looks like. The table I was given by my m-i-l when we moved here has four leaves, is 120" long, comfortably feeds 14 adults, and (tightly) manages 20. It is completely covered with pantry contents and my many sets of dishes and glassware. (The butler's pantry, with all the china and crystal, will have to wait...) All the chairs are occupied, too. And the radiator that runs the length of the room. And most of the floor.

At the same time as all this chaos has erupted in my dining room, I am attempting to persuade the 2 y/o that climbing over formerly impassable baby gates to inspect the carnage is BAD. He does not believe me. So far the dogs have broken in and eaten some crackers and, strangely, meat seasoning packets (venison seasoning, sloppy joe mix, and pepper rub - WTH?). Jack keeps slinking around and slithering through the glassware just to mess with my mind, or perhaps cause me to drop dead of a heart attack so he can feast on my fat carcass for a few weeks. No one would find me in there until I started to smell really bad. And even then....

Anyway.

Then there was the patching and sanding. The day I planned to do that, I wrenched something in my lower back while catching the baby gate scaler in mid-vault, got stiff and sore...and had 2 days of sciatica as my reward. In the midst of this, the Athlete texted to me that he was in the school office, having decided to smite some obnoxious kid who routinely badmouths him for dating a freshman during gym class. (Senioritis, anyone?). Had to provide lots of advice and counsel to ensure that privileges such as prom were not revoked, and then had to ensure that Princess did not smite Athlete for his display of fisticuffs, which, while well-intended, was not worth the trouble that ensued. (She thought he could have handled it more rationally, he was incensed that she did not appreciate his defense of her honor after months of snarkiness from that kid).

Then late that afternoon, I finally spackled. It rained for the next 36 hours, so it took forever to dry....and so I waited overnight, then I started sanding that next morning. A mayday call came in from the Princess from a school locker room. She was walking between classes with one of Athlete's wrestler friends, deep in conversation about a very serious alleged incident -- wherein said friend's former girlfriend was taken advantage of by another boy at a party -- when the offending boy crossed paths with them. Wrestler friend (smaller by a foot and about 150 lbs lighter than his target) took the alleged offender out at the legs and proceeded to pound the snot out of him. Princess' horrified screams alerted the faculty, and after several attempts, Wrestler friend was finally pulled off, bloodied knuckles and all, and dragged off to the principal's office. The alleged offender was well and truly pummelled, and had blood flowing from several spots. Princess, having never seen anything close to that kind of violence, was teary, shaking uncontrollably, and had to sit with a nun until I came to fetch her. The nurse's office, the vice-principal's office, and the principal's office were all full of bleeding boys and outraged parents.

So I got the kid home, got the walls primed, then the phone calls from curious kids, parents, and those who hoped to obtain free legal advice started pouring in. Wrestler friend actually showed up late that night to apologize to Princess for scaring her, and proceeded to pour his heart out on my couch for two hours, praying that he will not be expelled, but unashamed of having avenged the outrage perpetrated upon the alleged victim. (I'm just waiting to see how much of this makes the police blotter...and how much is covered up about this party, its attendees, and the alleged incident). I'll let you know how it turns out.

What's the term the Amish use for "spring madness" again? Well it has hit our town and the quasi-Catholic high school with a vengeance.

Oh, yes, and did I mention that I had a brief due as well? What would have taken me 3-4 hours sequestered in my office back in the day, took me about 14 hours over the course of three days, with so many interruptions, derailed trains of thought, and lost bits of legal brilliance and clever word usage....GAAAAHHHH!!!! Not my best work, but it hit the fax machine and went to its destination nonetheless.

Today I was supposed to be putting everything back in the cabinets, reattaching the finished, freshly painted doors, and admiring the pretty new paint job. But no. I still have chaos in the dining room, white primer, and completely untouched cabinet doors and drawers waiting to be done, and three gallons of lovely light blue and coordinating delft blue sitting patiently next to the dishwasher waiting to "transform my [friggin'] space."

Whatever.

Looks like another week of fast food and takeout.

Is it really almost May?

Greetings gentle readers -

It's been sparse on the blogging of late, between vacationing and having the post-vacation child-induced plague...this time it's strep. Only the baby, who has been the sickest the longest, had a negative culture. Go figure.

But I shall return, more on the house ghost(s) to come, as well as our regularly scheduled updates on the Princess and the Athlete, who - gulp - are currently attending a friend's school play somewhere near Syracuse, which is up the road quite a piece from here. Had anyone asked the Beloved and I if we'd allow this last fall when the romance (well, maybe it wasn't exactly a romance back then) began...the quick answer, "HELL no!" But the Tall Boy has weaseled his way into our hearts and has proven himself, time and again, to be extremely responsible, trustworthy and honest, often to his own detriment. (Him: "This girl in line at Target just randomly came up to me and asked me out...." Her: "WHAT GIRL?!?" Him: "...but of course I said no! I just think that's so weird..." Her: "WHAT GIRL?!?" Parental units: "D'oh!") But despite his boy-ness, he's a wonderful kid, and will be a fine young man.

We expect it to be a long, hot summer, fraught with romantic peril...I can't guess at how it will turn out when the countdown to college really begins. I'll keep you posted. First we have to get through being the only freshman at the senior prom....that should provide plenty of material.

This weekend is going to be a busy one - a day-long track meet with the Athlete tomorrow, followed by....Lord give me strength....a party on Sunday for the Boy's SECOND BIRTHDAY!!!

NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay. Sniffle. Verklepmt. Shouldn't be going by so fast. Going to pour some shiraz, take my antibiotics, shut down all the electronics and read a dang BOOK.

Back soon -
xoxoxo,
Kit

I couldn't beat them...

...so I joined them. Yesterday I got a Blackberry and started a friggin' Facebook account to keep in constant contact with the Princess, the Beloved, the Athlete (and perhaps - occasionally - the office) from afar.

So far I'm not thrilled - seems like I spend most of my time deleting notifications, txts, and emails from the Blackberry. How do people get anything done?!?

I am so 20th century....

[I would have posted this yesterday but given my stated loathing and opposition to these networking sites but I figured you'd think I was April Fooling you...]

I Confess: My House is Haunted!!!

I'm not kidding, and (with a few vocal dissenters excepted) I'm pretty sure I'm not crazy. Especially because 1) the Princess and I, and then the Princess, non-believer Athlete and I were together when the latest episode occurred, and we all heard, smelled, and felt the same thing; and 2) the studiously non-believing/denying Beloved freaked when I told him what happened, because he had several similar experiences shortly before he left, but chose to believe it was his imagination.

I know, I know, as Cathlolics we aren't supposed to believe in this stuff at all, or if we do, we must be cognizant that it's probably Satan and his minions tormenting us, but I've just seen and experienced too much to completely discount or discredit it. I am not afraid of anything/one here, just sorry and praying for these wayward souls to find their way home to where they belong. Pretty sure it's not here.

Sadly, none of the priests nearby have the time or the inclination to come bless the house much less lead us in an Enthronement of the Sacred Heart ceremony, so I'm going to have to bide my time and lure my Nigerian priest buddy here from far too close to where his boss lives. After my first encounter in 2004, he blessed each room of the house as we processed through all 4 floors and prayed the Rosary. It was quiet for awhile, until now - three episodes in the past 10 days or so.

I hesitate to divulge what's gone on, not because it's scary (it's really not that bad, just hackle-raising when it happens) but, well, I don't want to scandalize, alienate, or otherwise sport with the intelligence of non-believers.

Vote at the sidebar...I'll have to think about posting more about it though. In the meantime, please pray for what/whomever is hanging out here, and for our guardian angels to see to our family's spiritual protection.

HeloMom Dispatch #19....Dance of Death?

(See below for update!)
Now, for starters, let Helo Mom 'splain.

Dance of Death is actually a 3-person play written by this dude to the left...a Swedish playwright who suffered from severe bouts of paranoia, schizophrenia, and manic depression. So he wrote this rather dark, scary play about a couple who hate one another celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary - it's a military officer and his wife, stuck alone in a stone garrison/lighthouse on an offshore island somewhere in a presumably frigid northern sea, fjord, whatever. The Beloved and I saw it in the West End back in 2003, with Ian McKellan and Frances de la Tour (Madame Maxime for all you Harry Potter IV fans), celebrating our tenth anniversary. Layers of irony there...


Ok, I'll sum up. The Big Dance is tomorrow night. This is the first really public "outing" for Athlete and Princess. A few of their closest friends have known of their association for some time, but within the past few days, the news leaked to her little pack of rivals, none of whom have dates, and all of whom are tormenting her, name-calling, the works. They plan to go "stag" to the dance. And what will a knot of little snotrags have better to do when they get there than to sit on the sidelines and pick away?

On the other side, she is getting smirked and wolf-whistled-at in the hallways and in the cafeteria by the snarkier older boys, who have decided she must be...ahem..."precocious" in some way (which is rather odd, because they pick on the Athlete for his comparative innocence and pure lifestyle) and so a few of the nastier ones are asking her for her number, asking her to dance with them tomorrow night, etc., all of which mortifies her. She's in full-on distress and wishing she could stay home...after nearly 2 months of planning, shopping, and looking forward to her first formal dance.

AND THEN....there's this. Last night was the second time in three months that they did not speak on the phone. He had a match and did not call afterwards. Even if he does not do well, it is very unlike him not to report in. So this morning I get the following text [purified English added]:

Don't tell [Princess] but I'm going in for xrays this morning. My ankle got torn up last night. I'll let you know what I find out.

Oh dear....

Well, I now know that it is a high sprain, he's in an air cast, and is refusing to use crutches - manly man thing and all that. The news will arrive at school in a limping 6'5" package within the hour, and she will freak out. Our Princess is an inwardly compassionate but outwardly fierce and protective little nurse. She will interrogate, chide, give squinty-eyed reprimands from across the gym, and otherwise will make him suffer far worse than his ankle will, I fear.

Can this dance possibly go well?!?

HeloMom is going to the likker store this afternoon.

More to follow....

UPDATE: I can hardly type, I'm laughing so hard...got a distress text from the Wounded Warrior:

Him: Help! She's yelling at me!

Me: I'd say "RUN FORREST RUN" but, well, y'know...

Him: She shunned me & tried to get away by using the stairs

Me: Uh oh, what did you do?

Him: Thanked God for crowded stairs and my elevator pass and met her at the top of the stairs and limped her to her next class...

Honestly, how can a HeloMom (or her faithful readers) NOT love this kid?!?

The Pictures Will Do The Math AND Tell The Story!

Take one of these:

+


+

=

+


So went my evening last night.
.


Yes, that may have been my voice you heard crying out in the wilderness....but I toughed it out long enough to get through the firm Christmas party (open bar, duh!) before heading to the hospital on the advice of a fellow lawyer's physician wife.
.


Blogging will be a bit light for a few days, but do enjoy your second week of Advent!

Update: BTW, the whole patch thing lasted about 5 minutes...the Boy took one look at my face, cackled madly, and screeched like a boy-banshee because I wouldn't let him claw the thing off my face. So I'm taking my drops every few hours like a good girl and wearing my Maui Jims inside and out.

This really stinks.

Helo Mom Dispatch #6 - Fatal Error?

[thunk]

[thunk]

[thunk]

Somewhere, someone's head is beating against a wall.

Today's drama:

The Senior Athlete had to student-teach a class as a project for one of his own classes. So he chose a class he was sure would be great. The Cheerleader's Freshman gym class.

[thunk]

She was stunned to see him there, suddenly "in charge" of her (oh, and the rest of the class, too). He thought it would be fun, AND he had a built-in excuse to spend 50 minutes of his day with his cute little not-quite-official-but-everyone-knows-it-girlfriend...with the added bonus of seeing her trot about in a gym uniform as opposed to the regular school uniform. What a great day! God is good!

[thunk]

Foolish, foolish move. When he selected teams for the class rather than allowing the class to divide itself up along its usual partisan lines, she was separated from her usual gym-team buddies and became bitter with him. Apparently her team usually wins - and he seemed to be testing her ability to deal with loss and adversity. He made the mistake of telling her so when she complained about it.

[thunk]

When he then did not officiate the game in her [team's] favor, she sassed him. He had to respond appropriately, and so he called her on her unsportsmanlike conduct...followed by a whispered plea that she not get angry, he was doing what he had to, and trying to get a good grade.

[thunk]

THEN....just when it couldn't have gotten much worse....her two chief adversaries/girl-tormentors came into the class (cutting their own regular class) because they'd gotten wind of what was going on and wanted to see for themselves, and to sneer at and heckle them both. The Princess whispered to him that they didn't belong in the class, and that he should send them on their way (she had a point), but he refused, not wanting to make a scene and fuel their fire (a valid counterpoint).

[thunk]

Another teacher happened by, espied and yanked the skanks, and sent them to the office. The Princess, being an irrationally outraged 14 year old at this point, took this as a direct personal insult...he did not defend her honor.

[THUNK]

"HE should have done that! He could have asserted his authority as a teacher and gotten rid of them! He certainly asserted his authority over ME in front of everybody! I could've done a better job! I'd've SO kicked their a**es out of there, to HELL with the grade!!!" (Ouch! She was so furious, she started speaking in salty tongues!)

[THUNK]

She cut him dead for the rest of the day.

There was no 2 hour phone call tonight.

There was no call at all.

Radio silence.

(Oh, dear....)

I did my best to be the voice of reason, I really did. I sympathized with her, but I also advocated for the poor boy and tried to get her to understand that there might possibly be some good reasons for what he did, and moreover, for what he did not do.

[thunk]

I got the trademark slitty little green eyes of rage in return, which were only slightly cured by a peace offering of a hot fudge sundae and tea. Then we snuggled together under a blankie for a few hours, saying very little while the phone didn't ring....

She knows she's a brat. She knows that petulance rarely plays well, and pays even less. And we all know she's only 14. Some allowances must be made. She'll get over it and she'll even laugh at herself about it...at some point. Hopefully he will, too.

Oh, that poor, poor boy.

Helo Mom 101

11-4-08 Helo Mom Update:

He walked her to her last class, thereby making himself tardy for his own. They talked for 2 hours on the phone last night. Other senior football player boys, who have never taken note of her existence, are suddenly greeting her and being nice to her at school.

Good grief.

The Beloved (who, thankfully, was at work chasing wildlife and tackling an elderly woman who tried to take an unloaded .357 in her luggage last night) has a bulge-y looking vein at one temple, and has refused to allow the poor boy to come over to our house. Ever. Or at least until after they're both out of college.

He has, however, offered to take him hunting. Or fishing. Without witnesses. Very soon.

11-3-08 Helicopter Mom Update:

I am truly not ready for this. I have just discovered and am willing to admit that I lack the requisite maturity and self control to deal with boys courting my daughters. The Football Player promised to call the Cheerleader yesterday, but did not do so until the late evening. She was on pins and needles all day, checking the phone lines, cell phone ring volume, wondering if she'd said something wrong the night before, etc., so we all had to be on pins and needles too, and NO ONE was allowed to say anything about it. The Beloved was exhibiting signs of barely controlled warrior rage - he is extremely unhappy with the entire situation based simply on age. I was ready to kill the kid myself (he's got a full foot on me at 6'5", but I think I could take him) after watching our girl agonizing in silence, but then he called after getting home from work - he's spent the month of October volunteering at a Halloween haunted house/fundraiser for foster kids programs, and last night was the end of it. He really is a good kid. On the other hand, I - someone who you'd normally perceive as being a fairly well-adjusted, intelligent, and slightly amusing 40 year old woman - am a neurotic freak of a mother. This was just ONE DAY. The first of many to come. Lord, give me strength.

Okay. The Cheerleader Princess - a freshman - is being pursued by a Football Player senior. He is a nice kid, nerdy, not at all the "bad boy" type.

But he's a senior.

She's a freshman. A cute, smart, funny, but completely inexperienced, never-been-kissed, got her first-ever phone call from a boy today FRESHMAN.

I am not ready for this. Suggestions?

Tricky, not treaty

My Andale hit counter died at 10,084 hits! Anyone have suggestions for a replacement?

Housekeeping - blogroll

Well, I had a little spare time on my hands, so I finally sat down yesterday and added the new blogroll feature at the sidebar. Problem is, I got several phone calls and one nappus interruptus/trip to the boy's room in the process and kept losing my place as I went down the list.

.

I think all my usual suspects are there, but if you're missing, or if you'd like to be added or - sniff - deleted, your wishes are a mere combox away, my friends.

My Alma Mater, My Tribe...

...my head is hanging in shame for both. Here's why. There has been such a resurgence of faith and vocations coming out of there in recent years (a far cry from my wild Big 10 days in the '80s).

Sheesh. I guess now we know where at least a little bit of that extra energy was coming from...

(Oh yes I did. I went there. *snark*)