playing at GG's

My mom got Ladybug up early while at my grandmother’s.  They went on a 4 hour canoe adventure.  Then after lunch we wench back to the beach for a day in the sun.  And then we came home to a campfire and s’mores.  And here are the photos to prove it.

 swimming

 waiting for others to show up

 soaking

 GG, Ayate, and Ladybug

 getting tossed

 blowing on the fire

Mean Mama

strays

It seems that everything in my mom’s life is a stray. 

She has had 2 dogs:  Rafi and Annie.  Both were strays.  One brought into the vet clinic she worked at and ended up coming home with her.  The other wandered up to her while downtown and never left her side.  She is the dog you see in the earlier photos with Ladybug.

She rescued 2 birds:  A barn swallow and some other long beaked bird I can’t remember.  I spent an entire summer killing flies in the goat barn to feed them.  We were the only barn free of flies by about half way through a hot summer.

And cats:  Lots and lots and lots of cats.  It started with Dude, progressed with Sappho, and continued all the way down to Moses.  In between were hundreds of cats.  And I am not exaggerating.  At one time she had 24 cats.  Seriously.  When she and her partner split up the split the cats.  She is not a cat hoarder.  Her house is meticulously clean all the time.  I have no animals and her house is cleaner than mine.

She is down to 1 cat now.  Not by choice.  Her latest cat – Moses – hates other cats.  And since he is psychotic – literally – he rules the roost.   She loves him.  Adores him.  Treats him as her baby.  She found him…left for dead…at about 3 days old…under the bush in front of the bank.  She bottle fed him.  But he is crazy.  He takes medication to help keep him from going over the edge.  They may all be strays but she loves every single one of them.

Oh, and her kids:  Me and my sister.  She wasn’t looking for us either, just another day at work when walked into her life.  Bet she never imagined that would lead to being a mother.

I tell you all this so you understand my reaction to the following story.

We headed out one night for the 2 hour drive to my grandmother’s house for a couple of days.  My grandmother is 85 and still living alone in the mountains.  It is a hard thing for the family.  She has a serious heart condition but she refuses to give up her independence.  So we sit back – for now.  We were about 10 minutes outside of my mom’s town when we passed by what appeared to be a very large bird dead on the side of the road.  As we passed though the bird spread it’s wings as my mother looked in her rear view mirror.  She slammed on the breaks and pulled off to the side.

Me:  What?

My Mama: It’s not dead.  It’s hurt.

Me:  So what exactly are you going to do (I can just see the comedy unfolding)?

My Mama:  I have to help.

Me: You have a dog, a child, and 2 adults in a corolla.  Where do you think you are going to put an injured hawk? (We later found out it was a Red Tail Hawk)

My Mama:  Your right (grabbing her phone).  I am going to have to call someone.

Yep, that is my mom.  Stop.  Help.  Make it right.  I might need to be prepared to strap this thing to the roof rack.

Within a few minutes another person has stopped and started to help with traffic control.  Okay, this is the mountains.  In the middle of nowhere, between 2 small towns.  Basically they wave down everyone so that they aren’t speeding past this bird.  My mom is afraid that the bird will get sucked into the wind current of the passing cars.

Next the wife of a man on the local wild life refuge has stopped to help.  And several other kind hearted people.  I stay with the dog (who watches out the window hoping she is not being left behind by her mama) and child (who is using this chance to nap).

I consider the option of taking photos – for this blog – but then think that is morbid.  I don’t think I should take photos of an injured bird that people are trying to help.

After about half hour the state trooper shows up.  She makes some calls.  They are trying to decide what to do, who to call.  Then the bird spreads his wings and flies off.  Gone.  Well at least it is not strapped to the roof of a car.

We are late by ½ hour.  But when we tell my grandmother she is not at all surprised.

The next day my mother finds a perfect large Red Tail Hawk feather on my grandmother’s beach.  I should have taken a photo of that.

Mean Mama

First day of First Grade

Another break from the vacation chronicles...

It's the most wonderful time of the year!  First day of school has arrived.  And this year Ladybug is entering First Grade.

Last night was hard.Everything she did...everything she said... was geared at being mean to me.  She was dismissive.  She was bossy.  She was ... well... ugly.

She was scared.

We picked out clothes.  I wanted her to wear a dress.  Just once.  First day.  Pictures.  Pretty. 
She wanted to wear shorts and a t-shirt.  Not the first day!  Please.

We compromised.  A skirt and t-shirt.

I was so excited to hear about her new teacher -- since we could not meet her the other evening.  Only she wasn't there.  Don't know why yet.  A 6 year old can not remember those kinds of details.  So I wait to see how this all develops.

On her part... she loved school.  Which is an improvement from last year.

Mean Mama

back to the bog

Cheating at this blog post…

Ladybug and I went back to the bog with the dog while my mom was at work.  We needed something to do.  And I had forgotten my camera the last time we had gone.  So here are some of the sights from that trip – and it didn’t rain this time.

running with the dog

walking with the dog

child with horns

picking berries again

more berries

best buds

drinking bog water

and then peeing

helping Ladybug find berries

run run run

The weather cooperated this time.

Mean Mama

unexpected visitor

Have you ever lived in a town so small that it rolls up the carpet and puts it away at a certain time?  My mom does.  And I just had to prove it to myself.

Before coming on vacation I had my period (I know, TMI).  I was pleased that I would not need to worry about that pain during vacation.  And I did not pack for it.  Why bother to be prepared for something that just was not going to happen?

Because that is my kind of luck.

I was sitting on the couch, with Ladybug and my mom, watching a movie, when I got that feeling.  Ladies, you know THAT feeling.  And I thought, “Oh crap!”  Okay, I might have thought some other words but let’s just go with those.  So I asked to borrow my mom’s car (because it was parked behind mine) to make a quick run to the store to find some protection.  I pull up to the grocery store at 9:17pm.  Get out of the car.  Walk toward the door and see the hours posted in very large letters.

7am-9pm

Crap!  Or whatever word you like best.  So I go to the drug store.  Which apparently closes earlier than the grocery store.  Then to the second grocery store across town, which is only like 2 miles.  Closed.

Well now what?  I mean, I can’t go a night without protection.  Not possible.  So I stop at the gas station and find what I am looking for.  Along with all the other customers who are there buying beer.  I guess I wasn’t the only person who forgot something that day.

And after all that, my period decided to leave the next day.  Just testing me I guess.

Mean Mama

putting together the porch swing

I carted the swing all the way to my mother’s house.  I fought roof racks… and rain storms… and fear of it blowing off the car.  But I made it.  It made it.  I was done.

Or so I thought.

Now came the task of helping my mom put it back together.  Mother without a partner…daughter must help.

I had the frame and the nuts and bolts.  My mom had the cushions.  What neither of us seemed to have was instructions.  I am sure this seemed simple enough when we took it apart…nearly 2 years ago ... so we might have assumed we would remember.  Or maybe she just can’t think of the place she has safely put the instructions.  Either way, we are now on the fast track to an engineering degree so that she can swing on her back porch.

We sorted….nuts and bolts and metal parts.  We made first attempts.  Then took them apart and made a second attempt.  Then took them apart again and put them together the way we tried the first time. 

This is where we ended in frustration at the end of day one:

Looks good.  Right?  Just lift the swing up and hook it in and be done.  Right?  Wrong.  The problem is that we know we have done something wrong because all the bolts are too long.  ALL.  Not some, with others being too short.  So our only thought is that it must all be put together wrong. 

So we stop.  And think about it.  Eventually I decide “Who cares?” if they are all too long.  Tighten them down and be done.  But my mom wants to get it right.  She is meticulous.  But eventually the handyman who has been helping her with other things agrees with me and just tightens everything down for us. 

Now all that is put together we must put the canopy on.  Which we attempt to do.  We pull and tug and brace ourselves against object we can.  We get it in the right position but just slightly off center of the screw holes.  We use a hammer.  We use a crow bar.  I ask for a sledge hammer but my mom says no.  We give up again.  At this stage:

It is not screwed in.  But it is just the canopy.  So we are willing to let it stay like this for a few days – until my uncle comes to visit.

Mean Mama

vacation hair

There was no way I was going to be able to fit in a hair day prior to vacation so I packed a large bag full of hair care products and tools and planned on doing hair.  The style she had in was simple but I have to say that I had done a sloppy job at it so it only lasted a week.  And it was already very fuzzy.  She still doesn’t get freaked out by bad hair days but I know when she is having one and I just want to fix it.

On Monday and Tuesday of the vacation my mom had to work.  She got the rest of the week off.  On top of that, Monday it rained yes, it continued).  Ladybug did get a nice long bog walk in the morning with my cousin and the boys.  I was too tired to go – all this fresh air is doing me in.  When she returned we began hair.  I divided her hair into 6 sections – 3 on the left and 3 on the right.  I transformed the 4 back sections into small (but not tiny) hanging twists.  Then to keep them long, I French braided them while they dried and set into lovely twists.  The front 2 sections were twisted into knots – because neither of us had the tolerance to deal with any more hair for the day.

This is what we ended up with at the end of Monday:

 It looks like she has horns.

Tuesday we got up to finish the hairstyle before we headed over the mountains (and through the woods) to have a visit with my grandmother.  I opted to cornrow the front and then turn it into twists once I reached the end of the hair section.  I didn’t tell her I was going to cornrow because she hates it – tender headed girl.  I could have just done more hanging twists but she loves having her hair down and just lets the twists hang in her face.  Which, of course, I hate.  So she can have her hanging twists and let her hair down and I can have her hair away from her beautiful face with this combined style. 

This is what we ended up with at the end of Tuesday:

On Wednesday morning I undid the braided twists and let all the twists hang free.  I remembered to braid all the twists before letting her go swimming.  Well... I remembered almost all the time.

Mean Mama

wild berries

Not only does my mother live here in the high peaks but so does my cousin (B), his wife (J), and their 2 boys (Little B and C).  We were not close at kids and rarely saw each other because of distance but he is a great guy and he married a fantastic woman.  So since my mom lives about 2 blocks from my cousin we always manage to see a lot of each whenever I come to visit.  He is a very thoughtful, centered, humble guy and his energy helps make my negativity erode, so he is good for me.

When J and B found out they were pregnant they made some serious adjustments to their lives.  J is a landscaper for a major resort in the area and B coordinates billiards leagues and tournaments.  Because daycare is close to non-existent in this area they had to arrange their lives around their child.  J goes to work at a ridiculously early hour and is home by 3pm.  B watches the boys during this time.  Once J is home she takes over watching the boys while B locks himself in their home office and works until late in the night.

But they make nature and exercise a priority – for them and the boys.  There is not a day that goes by that B doesn’t strap the youngest to his back and grab the hand of the older one and go for a long walk.  And by walk I mean through the bog, up a mountain trail, through the woods.  “Sidewalk” through the neighborhood is not an option.  As a result, their nearly 3 year old son can identify lots of birds, plants, and flowers.  Makes me feel a little stupid.

So on the first day of our vacation we decided to hook up with my cousin’s family to go for a swim.  Of course this does not mean hop in the car, drive 5 minutes to the local beach, park in the parking lot, and hop in the lake.  Why would anybody ever do that when you could drive 10 minutes, hike through the woods for ½ hour, and jump into a long forgotten watering hole that nobody else will be at.  This vacation may actually kill me but Ladybug will have a great time.

But before we can take this afternoon adventure we must wait until nap time is over.  Not mine…the boys.  But just as they call to say they are ready to go, the clouds roll in and thunder begins to rumble.  This may be the theme of the vacation.  So we decide to skip the swim and just go for a walk through the bog.  A little rain can’t hurt a walk.   

This sends Ladybug into a meltdown of depression.  I promised a swim.  I am breaking my promise.  She can’t trust me.  But we work our way through it and she gets ready for a walk instead of a swim.   

We pack 3 kids, 4 adults, and a dog into 2 cars and head out to the bog.  In a down pour.  My car is slipping all over the road.  But they keep going…and so do I.  On the positive side, at least I no longer have the porch swing attached to my car and therefore it is not raining on the inside.

When we get to the parking spot (because it is not a “lot”) it has stopped raining so we pile out of the cars and get everything ready.  And then it starts raining again so we pile everything back in the cars and wait.  Because, eventually, it has to stop raining.  Right?  It does.

When it is down to a slight sprinkle we head out on the walk.  It was then I realized I had not even thought of bringing my camera.  It would have been so cute to get a picture of Little B (blonde with blue eyes) holding hands with Ladybug running through the bog.  Maybe on the next walk.  But on this walk this is what we got instead.

Mine has the fewest berries.  But that is because Little B kept eating out of mine.  Really!  We used them later in the week to make a pancakes at my Grandma's.

Mean Mama

I might be dying

At hour 14 we stopped for dinner.  Not because I was hungry but it was 8pm.  Not because Ladybug was hungry.  But because we were in our last major city and we were about to leave civilization for the last time.  It was either eat now – or don’t eat at all.  And I needed more caffeine.

As soon as I stepped out of the car I knew something wasn’t right.  I had strange pain in my foot.  It wasn’t bone (because we all know I break toes easily).  It wasn’t tendon (I have had those foot issues too).  It felt internal but I couldn’t figure it out.  When we got into the building I looked down and discovered my feet were swollen.  I could have guessed that earlier in the day because I could feel them starting to swell.

My ankles were not the size of a baseball.  Or even a softball.  My ankles were the size of softballs that had been left in a bucket of water for so long that they had swollen up and busted all the seems.  The swelling continued up my leg about half way up the calf.  Oh so attractive.  But aside from the odd feeling inside my right foot every time I stepped, they didn’t really hurt.  The hazards of sitting too long. 

I knew the only thing that was going to help was exercise.  I needed to get up and move.  I needed to walk (I would regret that thought later in the week).  I needed to get my blood pumping.  But I still had about 3 more hours of driving to do.  And if I stopped, I would sleep … not exercise. 

First stop was to the bathroom.  Ladybug had been sucking down any liquid made available to her all day.  And my bladder had finally given up, too.  So I decided to take advantage of Ladybug’s love of public bathrooms.  As she sat on the potty and contemplated the world, I walked back and forth down the aisle of bathroom stalls.  Luckily the rest area was essentially dead and I was not putting on a show for tons of people.

When Ladybug finally emerged from the stall I directed her to washing her hands.  There was an employee cleaning the bathroom.  After watching us for a few minutes:

Worker: Is she your daughter?

Mama: Yes. (And I was thinking that this is an improvement because at least she was assuming we were family first instead of asking if I was the babysitter).

Ladybug: We just look different.

A quick dinner (mostly not eaten) and back in the car for the last leg of the trip.  I watched the sky light up while lightening flashed above the clouds.  And worried about my legs.  What if I had a blood clot?  What if my heart was failing (my bio mom died of congestive heart failure in her 50s)?  I told you that I catastrophize. 

Have you ever heard that phrase, “You have lived in warm weather so long that your blood has thinned.”?  I remember reading somewhere that it is actually the opposite.  Cold weather thins your blood and warm weather thickens it.  So with paranoia running rampant, I blasted the A/C on my feet.  For the rest of the trip.  I don’t like the cold.  It did keep me awake.  And the swelling began to feel better. 

Seventeen hours, 16 minutes.  Just about 900 miles.  Three meals.  A few more stops for gas.  Four stops to deal with rain issues.  But we arrived – just after the “maint reqd” light went off (need an oil change).  Safe.  Exhausted.  Ready for bed.  At least I was – Ladybug had done a lot of napping and was a little wired.  But she also fell asleep fast once put to bed.

Let the vacation begin!

Mean Mama

preparing for school

We now interrupt our vacation stories for a little rant about returning to school in 2 days...

As previously stated, I know Ladybug goes to a good school.  I know that academically it is superior to most of the schools in the area.  I know they focus on education.  I know every parent who sends their children there loves it -- well, except those who quietly enroll them in year round schools or private schools.  I know!

But I still don't like the school.  I have tried.  I don't.  So the school rants start now.

When I arrived home from vacation on Sunday night I was greeted with a postcard that stated that Ladybug's first grade teacher would be Ms. P.  I immediately got on the school website and looked her up.  Only, ummmm, there was no Ms. P.  teaching first grade.  I checked the other grades to see if there was a mistake.  There was no Ms. P. in the school.  So that meant either it was an error or she was a brand spanking new teacher.

I decided not to panic.  There was a "meet the teacher" night and I would connect with her then.  Whoever she may be.  And I wanted to let her know that I was going to be requesting to go through the IEP process.  I was not going to have another year like last year with Ladybug going down hill.

Tonight was the "meet the teacher" night.  I built it up to Ladybug.  I thought about it all day.  I wanted to come off as a concerned and involved parent but not a psychotic, neurotic, PITA type of parent.  As we walked down the long first and second grade hallway I hoped I sounded the right way.  I turned into her classroom and discovered a few things.

1. The teacher was not there.  She is a new hire and is going through some last minute orientation stuff so could not be there.  UGH!
2.In her place to greet us to first grade was the school counselor.  You know... The counselor who told me that my child is perfectly normal and does not need therapy.  The counselor who told me that there is no need for an IEP.  The counselor who told me it was all in my head.  The counselor who refused to talk to Ladybug's therapist.  The counselor who told me that if I just took a parenting class everything would be fine.  The counselor who thought she could teach me the complicated dynamics of play therapy in 6 easy to learn sessions.  I basically told her nothing.
3. I read the classroom roster and discovered that Ladybug has been separated from not one, not two, but ALL of her friends.  I guess she is developing my king of luck.
4. She is in a classroom with 8 boys of about 25 students.  8!  My boy focused girl who much prefers male friends over female friends ...

Please let this year be better than last year.  Please!

Mean Mama