Parenting 101: You Gotta Know When to Fold 'Em

Bean had a choir concert on Tuesday night.

She told me about it on Monday. My brain started the clicking that indicates schedules and flight plans rearranging themselves. (You've seen Pushing Tin, right? It's like that but without the literal explosion at the end if something goes astray).
"Yes," I said, "Okay, fine... just make sure you have everything you need together so that you can be ready when I get home."
Any other moms recognize that request?
Anyone know what follows??

"Okay, I will."
I think she even actually meant it.
You know... at the time...

Tuesday she texted me when she got home and I texted back and reminded her to get her choir stuff together.

"I'm all set!"
I believed her.

When I left McPherson I sent her another message, "Heading home, be ready in an hour!" I didn't worry too much about the fact that she didn't reply - I've told her that I really don't want to be texting and driving, especially on the highway. (I'm a safety girl!!)

I got home in PLENTY of time to pick her up, grab some takeout and be at school by 6:50... but when I got inside she was asleep on the couch. And not in her choir clothes. At this point the Angry Mommy inside me was making some low growling noises. BUT since she had assured me that she had her stuf together I hushed the Angry Mommy and went into my room to retreive my knitting. I gave her about five minutes and then I went out to check on her.
She was wearing a tank top and her black skirt.
That's it.
"Where's your shirt?" I asked.
"I'm looking for it." She said.
Um...
But I quieted Angry Mommy again as she pulled it out from under a stack of clean clothes. She put it on and started looking for her shoes.
"Tights?" I asked, tightly.
"I can't find any."
"It's ten damn degrees outside. Find tights or wear pants." Angry Mommy was rubbing her hands together and practically jumping out of my skin.
Deep breath in...
"I'm going to be in the car. Come out when you're ready."
A few minutes later she was in the car, wearing tights (footless) and black shoes and her black skirt and her white shirt and a hoodie.
Through somewhat clenched teeth I asked, "Where's your coat?"
She looked at me blankly. I experienced one of those twitches that make your vision go black and fuzzy for a few seconds.
"Coat," I said, plucking at mine in example. "where's your coat?"
"I don't have one."
Twitch. Angry Mommy had her hand up and was yelling, "Oooooh!! Ooooh!! Call on me!!!" I again told her to shut it.
"Yes, you do," I said out loud, "I've seen it. I, in fact, purchased it for you."
"Oh that one. It's on the couch."
I decided to just "letitgooooooo" and put the car in reverse. Well, I almost let it go... as I backed out I muttered, "Because the couch is so cold??"

Halfway to the school I said, "I probably don't even want to know if you have your bow tie, do I."
"Probably not," she said quietly.
Angry Mommy had given up.

Calm, reasonable Mommy said, "Number one: next time I ask you to get your things together please actually do that before you tell me that it's done. Number two: next time we need to be somewhere and you decide you're sleepy please gather all of your things together and then set an alarm before you lie down. And if you think you're not going to be able to keep track of your things so that you can show up at the concert, on time, well-groomed and wearing the expected clothing then don't sign up for choir."

And with that my little dumpling nodded, got out of the car and ran into the building while I parked and found a seat.

The concert was great... my kid was not the only one with footless tights...
And then we went to IHOP.

Shocky

Just outside Newton this morning my car started to fishtail on the ice. I wasn't going very fast at all, several cars had passed me already. I started to spin, each revolution showing the Coca-Cola truck behind me that much closer. I don't think I even made a sound. I had enough time to wonder if it was possible to spin completely off the road and then drive away... and I decided that no, I would probably not drive away if I spun off the road, and I would definitely not drive away if I couldn't get myself out of the way of that Coca-Cola truck.
Somehow - luck or fate - my car came to a stop facing the right way in the lane next to the lane the truck behind me was in. I pulled off the road for a few minutes, letting the truck and several other cars pass me before I ventured out again.

Newton is more or less halfway between work and home, and it occurred to me to get off at the next exit and turn around and go home... but I knew if I got off the highway just then I wouldn't be able to make myself get back on.

I knew taking a job two counties away would be tricky when the weather got bad. I knew I was going to hate the scary slow drive. And it was scary and very, very slow for the rest of the way.

I'm in my office now, shaking and drinking a lot of water. And Coke. Seriously... because the sugar is good for shock and also there is something in Coke that works for nausea.
And also because it is kind of funny.

I already told my boss I'm leaving early today - hoping to beat the late afternoon re-freeze... but the truth is that I don't want to leave at all. I don't want to get back into my car. I don't want to get anywhere near the highway.

I have a few hours to get over that feeling.

So keep thinking good thoughts, for me and the rest of the travelers today, and drive safe, kids!

And it is December...

I know it's been awhile... I have things to say, but then when I actually have time to write I just play Mafia Wars on Facebook instead. (Srsly? Join my mafia!!)

My life has been pretty boring lately, really - and I'm not complaining about that at all. Really.
Boring = no drama. I love no drama.

Work, knit, sleep, shower, rinse, repeat.

I do wonder if I'm suffering from some sort of second adolescence, though... My hormones are TOTALLY out of control (how you doin'?) and by the end of the day my face is shiny and it looks like I haven't washed my hair in days.
(I feel so pretty).

Thanksgiving was fine - though my mother? Needs to just letitgooooooooooooo. About a lot of things. And she also needs to realize that if option one is to call me and ask me to do something and option two is to NOT call me and then complain about it all day she should really pick option one. Because I would MUCH rather get out of bed at 7am on a vacation day and run a 30 minute errand than to hear about it for the rest of the day. She did apologize for harping on and on (and on) about it the next day... but really? Even with the apology? Wake me up and let me just take care of the situation.

Dinner at Andie's was, of course, the best part. (And I'm not just saying that so I'll be invited back next year). Great food and sparkly conversation...

The only bad thing was that I missed Jeff this year. A lot. Which is weird, because he hated Thanksgiving and we fought about it every year. He always wanted to stay home and eat Spangles (because they're open on Thanksgiving) and I always wanted him to husband up and come with me to mom's and then Andie's. He always won, because taking a sullen man to a party is worse than taking no man at all.

The only thing worse than loving a guy who doesn't want you is loving a dead guy.

And the only thing worse than that is loving both of them.

And the only thing worse than that is blogging about it like Eeyore.

Happy Holidays!

Shitstorm Indeed...

And I'm the umbrella.

I got to work yesterday, clocked in and went to find coffee.
(coffeecoffeecoffee)
Before I even sat down at my desk my boss appeared in my doorway. The first words out of his mouth were, "Please don't quit."
This is not how one introduces good things.
I took a drink of my coffee, sat down and gestured for him to sit.
"No," he said, "I'll stand."
I blinked at him and said, "Ohhhhhhhh-kay."

Then he proceeded to tell me what happened with one of my clients (and one of my co-worker's clients) the night before. Which kicked off a series of excruciating and teeth-gritting meetings.

I call them "The Fuck" meetings. As in "The fuck?" Which was my first response to the story.

There was the "what the fuck actually happened" meeting.
There was the "ok neither of your stories match, so both of you will sit there and tell me what the fuck happened" meeting.
There was the "what the fuck do we do about this" meeting.
There were phone calls to parents and guardians. Who pretty much said, "The fuck??"
There was a second "what the fuck do we do about this" meeting.
Then there was a "OK. Here's what we're going to do about this so listen (the fuck) up" meeting.

Right about the time we were coming to a close the other client let slip a secret about my client. The other case manager took her client away and left me to deal with this new surprise.

Which led to a whole new series of "The Fuck??" meetings.

At the end of the day yesterday I said, "I'd better not even hear your name tomorrow. Got it?"
After a whole day of "the fuck" meetings with me I think he felt the same.

Knitting, The Color Orange and Wolf Love

No posts lately because there has been nothing fit to blog about.
Which, really? Is a good thing.
I love having a boring life again.

Of course, writing that means the shitstorm is brewing, I just don't know it yet.

Oh well.

I've been knitting... A Jayne hat for Darren that has been knitted and re-knitted... and it's still not done. The first time the colors were wrong (says Bean) and the second time I was talking and not paying any attention to measuring and it's WAY too small. So I will cast on again sometime tomorrow. It also involves pom pom making which I haven't done before. I bought a pom pom maker from Twist, so I'm all set... I don't "get" pom poms, in the same way that I don't "get" bobbles, but maybe this will change my mind and everything I knit from now on will have a pom pom or two stuck to it.

Bean's dad is apparently jealous that I'm making the Jayne hat for Darren - not so much because I'm making it, but that Darren will have one and he won't. I'll have had lots of practice by the time I get the first one done correctly, so maybe he'll get one after all. It's not a difficult hat, and it knits up relatively quickly...

I am currently knitting fingerless gloves inspired by the New Moon movie, using a yarn called Jasper. (Hee hee). It's variegated shades of blue. So very calming and a necessary diversion before I start Jayne again. The Jayne hat involves lots of knitting with orange and yellow, and some of you know about my aversion to all things orange. I mean, I'll eat oranges and Cheetos and orange gummy bears and drink orange juice and Orange Crush and stuff... but anything else orange can suck it. It's just so "in your face" and perky. I prefer the calm of blues and greens and purples. And yellow? Is just orange's idiot cousin. Red is fine, and pink...

I'm starting to sound like a crazy person. All of this emotion over colors.

So, New Moon... We DO have our tickets already, but we are not going to the midnight show. This whole "job" thing is really cramping my social style. Jeez.
I am excited about it...
And I have learned over the years to appreciate movies as separate entities from their corresponding books, so I was NOT disappointed in the last movie (unlike EVERYONE else I know) and I don't care that Jacob's fur should be a different color. So there.

And I still love Jacob.
What I want is a nice, sweet, stable, adoring wolf who won't break my heart. None of this hot and cold, overwhelming, all-consuming Vampire love bullshit. Love isn't supposed to feel like that, and in my experience when it does it's not at all good for you.

I'm just saying.

Tired

I'm so tired.
Tuesday I raced home to pick Bean up and then we got a quick dinner and went to see Wicked. It was great.
After the show was over I recorded a speedy quick voice over job. Well... it would have been speedy quick if I weren't so rusty. It took me half an hour to record a 90-second spot.
(Amateur).
It had been so long since I recorded anything, and even given how long it took me to get it right it feels good to be good at something.

Wednesday I got up early to take care of Grandma and left for work by 7. I didn't get home Wednesday night until almost 7:30 last night. That's a long freaking day.

Today was not as long, but as I'm settling into this job the problems are getting more and more complicated. I have gotten to know the clients and the agency well enough that I am starting to feel confident about my role. It was weird at first to have people who have worked there for 15 years deferring to me when we all knew I had no clue... but the things that fall into Case Manager Land can only be decided and acted on by case managers. So their asking me was really just a formality.

Now I'm starting to actually have something to say.

But it's exhausting, y'all. I've got a zillion balls in the air all day long.
It is such a relief to climb into my car at the end of the day, hit the "play" button on my current novel and breathe all the way home.

I'm listening to the newest Diana Gabaldon novel. I want so much to be embarrassed by how much I like these crazy romance/historical/time-fucking-travel books, but I just can't. I started reading this series when I was pregnant with Bean... and let me just say that as much as I don't want to get married again, I am totally and completely in love with James Fraser and want to marry him and have a dozen little red-headed Scottish babies with him. Seriously.

But then, between 8am and noon most days I would marry anyone who showed up with coffee or found a way for me to sleep as much as I did during the Summer of Darkness and still have a job and get a paycheck.

I have actually been knitting a bit... here are the teeny baby monkey socks I started tonight for my cousin's teeny baby. He was premature, and now at 2 months old is almost as big as Bean was at birth.

Damn It.

I was so very pleased with myself Sunday night.
So last night after Bean was done with her hour and a half of SIMS playing I logged on and after about half an hour or so, as I was clearing the 2000-word mark, the computer warned me that the battery was only at 5%.
Even though it was plugged in.

Of course.

Damn it.

Yes. Yes I know I could just NaNoWri-by-hand-Mo.
Yes. Yes I know that people - actual published author people - have been doing that since paper was invented.

Whatever.

I emailed the draft to myself for safety, but now my work-bots are refusing to allow me access to gmail from my desk computer. eBay? No problem. Ravelry? Go right on in. Blogger? Abso-frickin-lutely. Gmail? FAIL.

This charger thing has happened twice before - both times it took about two days before the computer got over it's little snit and allowed a charge. If I could actually find my warranty information I wouldn't hesitate at all to march into Best Buy and use the fucking thing as a soapbox... but since I can't find it I'm going to be very quiet and polite and sweetly ask them if they might be able to maybe look it up on their lovely and quite fucking functional computers.

Damn it.