I've had a rough week.
Don't ask me why. It's been a week of inadvertently banging my head up against cliques. Weight watchers nasties online, getting glared off someone's spinning bike at the gym. Just really astonished by the level of school yard bullying that goes on in adulthood.
I guess I just assumed that if you go forward in a positive nmmanner, and treat people respectfully, that you are going to get the same in return. I'm always amazed when someone is unprovoked and attacks regardless. Flummoxed even.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Give em an Inch
So of course, I talk to my mother while sick, which opens the door for a volley of calls after. My new BFF.
She calls, ostensibly, to ask my advice. Which she never takes.
"I'm planning a luncheon for twelve. I'm going to order ...then she slowly reads each item, including the frou frou accompaniments, off the menu. Carefully pronouncing Au Jous. " "Oh that sounds good," I'll say. "Except you might not want to do an chocolate fountain. The woman will be wearing silk dresses, it's messy, it's overpriced. It's just really grubby and people end up double dipping. "
"Well," she'll retort ruthlessly "People like them."
People like writing Juicy on their ass too but it don't make it right...
Oh. Ok. Then don't ask. You actually just want me to VALIDATE your choices. Which is fine. Just own it.
She calls me today to wordsmith a message to a family celebrating one great joy and one horrendous loss. (She's sending an edible arrangement btw. I hate, my sister loves, go figure, and a teddy, and balloons. Anathema. I'd toss the whole mess out for a single box of pampers and some Similac but that's practical for you.)
So we wordsmith a bit on the good news message then discuss how to recogize the second.
"Do you want to donate to a hospital, or a chairty? What about this, or that." I enquire. And she proceeds to start giving me a TON of information completely irrelevant to the decision. "Well, I called so and so's boss. My desk is locked. This one was at this place, and she was with whoiswhatsis with so and so."
Finally I said "Listen, I REALLY don't need this much information."
To which she snipped "WELL. I don't know what to tell you then."
"Less," I said. "Tell me less."
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Misery Hates Company
So I had the flu from Valentine's Day through today. Not your garden variety "I was laid low with this nasty bug" but an honest to god influenza virus complete with dizziness, temps reaching as high as 102.8 in the night, body tremors, the inability to walk, bone and joint aches. Awful. And when I say "sick" - I mean, and I swear to this now, think giving birth was actually easier then being this sick.
Doug was a saint actually. He rallied. He was up every hour, he brought me food in bed (which I ate then fell asleep next to) He did laundry, washed dishes, took care of and played with Ellie. I actually feel like the time blurred past. Add to it it was a holiday weekend (continuing our trend of illness and injury over holidays) so my doctor was unavailable and the walkin clinic was a 3 hour wait.
Why do I tell you this? is it to garner sympathy for feeling so awful? No no.
Because you need to understand what drives people to desperate measures. Desperate people do desperate things.
My mother.
Oh would that I could stop with those two words.
My mother. My mother offers to help. Frequently. But always only if you "need" it.
Do you need me to take her? Do you need me to come up there? Do you need me to drive you to the Dr.? Draw out the e's in need as you say it out loud. Think Jewish mother in Boca. She has no "want" apparently or desire to see Ellie for Ellie's sake. But she's happy to take her if there is some sense of "I can't handle it". She needs to be needed...so there can be drama.
"My daughter called, she has the flu, she NEEDS me to take the day off" is reported with the same intensity as "My butcher called. Two of his cows had Ebola".
My mother LOVES being in the thick of need.
I don't actually, hardly ever, "need" her. But occasionally I could use the help. Jury duty, root canal, um, FLU. Could I likely coordinate other help, yes. I likely could. But she offers, and offers, so occasionally I regress into people pleasing mode and I ask her for help because I think it will make her feel good.
Dial
"I'm still sick" I say, four days of misery later.
Five minutes of monologue re: their self imposed home renovation project later
"Do you need me to take the day off tomorrow and watch her."
"Yep" I say. Point blank. No beating around. No hemming, no hawing. "Yep, I do. I would love that."
silence.
"Oh" she stammers. "Well, I'll need to call work, and ask this, and tell that, and drive here, and do this, and call whomever" etc etc.
"Great" I say. "I appreciate it."
"Well I can't come right up. I'll have to get up early and drive to work, then drive to your house after because I need to take this out of my desk because y needs to sign X for P who's in from Cleveland." etc etc.
"Ok" I say.
"Fine, well I can do that but is it easier for you to bring her to me or us to stay there so she has all her things"
"No, not really." I say. "Honestly, if you can take her, great. I WAS going to call ** and ask her but I wanted to check with you first."
"I can take her" she asserts.
"Great"
So she calls at 7:49 am today. Yes I'm up. But still. I HAVE THE FLU. My daughter is teething and on the cusp of 3 teeth, each racing to emerge first. THANK YOU FOR DIALING EARLY.
"Hello" I answer, annoyed, husky, but striving for polite.
"Hi, it's me. Would it be easier for you to drop her off or us to come up?"
Now as of yesterday I would have dropped her off but you called me at 7:49 am. WHEN I HAVE THE FREAKIN FLU so I simply said.
"If you could come up, that would be great."
silence
then
"Oh, ok. Well, I'm not going to take a shower, etc etc."
"Fine" I say "I really appreciate it.
I leave Ellie sleeping and go to my computer. I type out a days worth of directions. Formula, ratios, what to eat when, etc. I wake Ellie then. Change her tiny heenie, bring her downstairs for a facewash and breakfast.
She arrives, husband in tow, at the back door.
"I'm just going to feed her" I say. I place the bib over her head and lift Ellie into her chair. As I sit with the cereal. I reconsider "Do you want to?" I offer.
She does.
She mentions that I am not giving Ellie anything "with" the cereal. Like fruit. To make it taste better.
"No," I pause then follow up with "I'm trying to teach her that some things are bland. You know, not to get her in the sugar habit."
No acknowledgement. No comment. No positive reinforcement for fighting childhood obesity. But whatever.
As she feeds, I pack Ellie's bag. Bristling at her litany of questions because she isn't waiting for answers.
"Does she has food? Does she have wipes? Are you including toys?"
"Yes, I'm doing it now."
She ignores me and talks to Ellie.
"I hope Mummy remembers a blankie. Mummy needs to remember a bottle. Your Mummy needs to pack you some toys."
I pack a bag. A single tote bag, about 17x8x12. It's on the floor near my mother.
"You have more stuff then I do Ellie," she starts. "You're only coming for one day. Look at all your stuff. I wonder who has more stuff, you or Julia."
And on and on.
"Do you want me to change here here or are you going to dress her at your house." I question.
"There" she says. So I try to show her what I packed "Ok, well I have two outfits here."
"She doesn't need two" she dismisses me.
I casually answer "Ah, well, she still throws up. It might be easier to have a spare." To which her husband replies "That's what we have a washer and drier for."
I see. So after she throws up and her stuff is on fluff and fold, what praytell will she be wearing while she waits??
I pack both outfits regardless. Knowing full well that she's still short an outfit. That not only will she throw up, but that one of the other will forget to change her and that she'll need a dry bum outfit too. But I wasn't about to go back upstairs.
So on it went. From the bag, to what food I packed, to the stroller. (Did I give her "the good one". Well, no. She can't have my $400 BOB jogger but she has my $90 umbrella stroller so yes, I'd still say it was "the good one"...)
It's taking me longer to blog then it took to happen. I'm annoyed.
The simple fact is, Ellie is my job. I'm good at it. Not necessarily the only one who could do it but today, right now, I probably know it best. Will she die without me? No. Do they need to do it "my way"? Absolutely not. In fact, I am WIDELY reported to be one of the most laid back parents known!
But honestly, forget that she's a baby. Let's say she was a car. If I borrowed someones car, I'd listen to the basic tutorial. Lights here, door does this, shakes at this speed, etc. I think I'm just astonished and appalled that her vanity? her insecurity? her pride? or is it arrogance? has made her so completely dismissive of taking ANY information about Ellie before she disappears with her for the day. I mean sure, you've had four kids... 38 years and 9 months ago to be more or less precise about the time frame. And yes, you'll be able to "figure it out" on your own. But why "figure it out" if someone can give you a heads up? As she left I asked her if she'd be willing to take Ellie to her Tumble Class.
She sighed, visibly annoyed.
"Well where is it," she said. Aggravated.
Aggravated that her and her retired husband would have to take time out of their busy sunny winter day to take Ellie to a play class that's teaching her balance and strength.
My cousin called in the midst of my pounding it out to keyboard.
She summed it up quite succinctly.
"Well, you know what they say...If it's not one thing, it's your mother"
Doug was a saint actually. He rallied. He was up every hour, he brought me food in bed (which I ate then fell asleep next to) He did laundry, washed dishes, took care of and played with Ellie. I actually feel like the time blurred past. Add to it it was a holiday weekend (continuing our trend of illness and injury over holidays) so my doctor was unavailable and the walkin clinic was a 3 hour wait.
Why do I tell you this? is it to garner sympathy for feeling so awful? No no.
Because you need to understand what drives people to desperate measures. Desperate people do desperate things.
My mother.
Oh would that I could stop with those two words.
My mother. My mother offers to help. Frequently. But always only if you "need" it.
Do you need me to take her? Do you need me to come up there? Do you need me to drive you to the Dr.? Draw out the e's in need as you say it out loud. Think Jewish mother in Boca. She has no "want" apparently or desire to see Ellie for Ellie's sake. But she's happy to take her if there is some sense of "I can't handle it". She needs to be needed...so there can be drama.
"My daughter called, she has the flu, she NEEDS me to take the day off" is reported with the same intensity as "My butcher called. Two of his cows had Ebola".
My mother LOVES being in the thick of need.
I don't actually, hardly ever, "need" her. But occasionally I could use the help. Jury duty, root canal, um, FLU. Could I likely coordinate other help, yes. I likely could. But she offers, and offers, so occasionally I regress into people pleasing mode and I ask her for help because I think it will make her feel good.
Dial
"I'm still sick" I say, four days of misery later.
Five minutes of monologue re: their self imposed home renovation project later
"Do you need me to take the day off tomorrow and watch her."
"Yep" I say. Point blank. No beating around. No hemming, no hawing. "Yep, I do. I would love that."
silence.
"Oh" she stammers. "Well, I'll need to call work, and ask this, and tell that, and drive here, and do this, and call whomever" etc etc.
"Great" I say. "I appreciate it."
"Well I can't come right up. I'll have to get up early and drive to work, then drive to your house after because I need to take this out of my desk because y needs to sign X for P who's in from Cleveland." etc etc.
"Ok" I say.
"Fine, well I can do that but is it easier for you to bring her to me or us to stay there so she has all her things"
"No, not really." I say. "Honestly, if you can take her, great. I WAS going to call ** and ask her but I wanted to check with you first."
"I can take her" she asserts.
"Great"
So she calls at 7:49 am today. Yes I'm up. But still. I HAVE THE FLU. My daughter is teething and on the cusp of 3 teeth, each racing to emerge first. THANK YOU FOR DIALING EARLY.
"Hello" I answer, annoyed, husky, but striving for polite.
"Hi, it's me. Would it be easier for you to drop her off or us to come up?"
Now as of yesterday I would have dropped her off but you called me at 7:49 am. WHEN I HAVE THE FREAKIN FLU so I simply said.
"If you could come up, that would be great."
silence
then
"Oh, ok. Well, I'm not going to take a shower, etc etc."
"Fine" I say "I really appreciate it.
I leave Ellie sleeping and go to my computer. I type out a days worth of directions. Formula, ratios, what to eat when, etc. I wake Ellie then. Change her tiny heenie, bring her downstairs for a facewash and breakfast.
She arrives, husband in tow, at the back door.
"I'm just going to feed her" I say. I place the bib over her head and lift Ellie into her chair. As I sit with the cereal. I reconsider "Do you want to?" I offer.
She does.
She mentions that I am not giving Ellie anything "with" the cereal. Like fruit. To make it taste better.
"No," I pause then follow up with "I'm trying to teach her that some things are bland. You know, not to get her in the sugar habit."
No acknowledgement. No comment. No positive reinforcement for fighting childhood obesity. But whatever.
As she feeds, I pack Ellie's bag. Bristling at her litany of questions because she isn't waiting for answers.
"Does she has food? Does she have wipes? Are you including toys?"
"Yes, I'm doing it now."
She ignores me and talks to Ellie.
"I hope Mummy remembers a blankie. Mummy needs to remember a bottle. Your Mummy needs to pack you some toys."
I pack a bag. A single tote bag, about 17x8x12. It's on the floor near my mother.
"You have more stuff then I do Ellie," she starts. "You're only coming for one day. Look at all your stuff. I wonder who has more stuff, you or Julia."
And on and on.
"Do you want me to change here here or are you going to dress her at your house." I question.
"There" she says. So I try to show her what I packed "Ok, well I have two outfits here."
"She doesn't need two" she dismisses me.
I casually answer "Ah, well, she still throws up. It might be easier to have a spare." To which her husband replies "That's what we have a washer and drier for."
I see. So after she throws up and her stuff is on fluff and fold, what praytell will she be wearing while she waits??
I pack both outfits regardless. Knowing full well that she's still short an outfit. That not only will she throw up, but that one of the other will forget to change her and that she'll need a dry bum outfit too. But I wasn't about to go back upstairs.
So on it went. From the bag, to what food I packed, to the stroller. (Did I give her "the good one". Well, no. She can't have my $400 BOB jogger but she has my $90 umbrella stroller so yes, I'd still say it was "the good one"...)
It's taking me longer to blog then it took to happen. I'm annoyed.
The simple fact is, Ellie is my job. I'm good at it. Not necessarily the only one who could do it but today, right now, I probably know it best. Will she die without me? No. Do they need to do it "my way"? Absolutely not. In fact, I am WIDELY reported to be one of the most laid back parents known!
But honestly, forget that she's a baby. Let's say she was a car. If I borrowed someones car, I'd listen to the basic tutorial. Lights here, door does this, shakes at this speed, etc. I think I'm just astonished and appalled that her vanity? her insecurity? her pride? or is it arrogance? has made her so completely dismissive of taking ANY information about Ellie before she disappears with her for the day. I mean sure, you've had four kids... 38 years and 9 months ago to be more or less precise about the time frame. And yes, you'll be able to "figure it out" on your own. But why "figure it out" if someone can give you a heads up? As she left I asked her if she'd be willing to take Ellie to her Tumble Class.
She sighed, visibly annoyed.
"Well where is it," she said. Aggravated.
Aggravated that her and her retired husband would have to take time out of their busy sunny winter day to take Ellie to a play class that's teaching her balance and strength.
My cousin called in the midst of my pounding it out to keyboard.
She summed it up quite succinctly.
"Well, you know what they say...If it's not one thing, it's your mother"
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Running for the Shelter
So I have this mother's helper. I'll call her Anna. (Because that's her name)
She's a doll. Precocious but not annoyingly so. Gorgeous and doesn't know it. All of 10 going on 11 going on 16. A child growing into a teen. I adore her but she's unnerving. You forget how young she is when she looks at you with an assessing stare. I just know she thinks I'm a donkey.
She "helps" from 3 to 5 on Thursdays. $8 well spent. Sometimes we go grocery shopping, other times she watches Ellie. Lately it's been tough because I let her watch tv when Ellie was younger and sleepier and now she heads for it automatically. I forgot how distracting tv is to a 10 year old. (to a 37 year old...Doug, Doug...)I have to remind her to actually PLAY with Ellie.
But not today. No siree bob. Today I had Plans. I needed to make cookies and she wasn't just going to watch my DVR'd Idol episodes. There was going to be some Real Playing. Ball rolling, maybe a song or two, some hand-eye coordination.
Today, my friend, I was "Getting My Money's Worth".
Bake bake bake. Talk talk talk on the phone. Calling out now and again
"You all ok? You need me to rewind that" (I crumbled, so sue me, I needed the cookies made.) Talk, bake, watching the clock. She's leaving early today for dance class.
"Can you feed her before you go" mentally muttering Getting My Money's Worth
"Sure"
"I'll get the food ready," I said. Although why I should I don't know. This IS your job. And can't you pick up her toys after. It's not just hold her, you're a helper. You have to pick up after too. Argh. More trouble. then she's worth. Ahhh, but then, I did get 2 hours to make cookies...what do I expect for $8...I put a bib on Ellie, set her down, and gave my "Mother's Helper" the food. "Be careful," I warned, "she reaches now." I left the room to get cash for Anna's "paycheck". Less then two minutes later I came back in.
"I'll finish" I said. "I don't want you to be late for dance."
"Thank you" We air kissed as I handed her the cash.
"You're welcome" she chirped. And with a hair toss she was gone. Bouncing off down the sidewalk.
I looked at crying Ellie. still waiting to finish eating.
When you factor in the labor cost of the laundry,I'm fairly certain I didn't get my money's worth.
She's a doll. Precocious but not annoyingly so. Gorgeous and doesn't know it. All of 10 going on 11 going on 16. A child growing into a teen. I adore her but she's unnerving. You forget how young she is when she looks at you with an assessing stare. I just know she thinks I'm a donkey.
She "helps" from 3 to 5 on Thursdays. $8 well spent. Sometimes we go grocery shopping, other times she watches Ellie. Lately it's been tough because I let her watch tv when Ellie was younger and sleepier and now she heads for it automatically. I forgot how distracting tv is to a 10 year old. (to a 37 year old...Doug, Doug...)I have to remind her to actually PLAY with Ellie.
But not today. No siree bob. Today I had Plans. I needed to make cookies and she wasn't just going to watch my DVR'd Idol episodes. There was going to be some Real Playing. Ball rolling, maybe a song or two, some hand-eye coordination.
Today, my friend, I was "Getting My Money's Worth".
Bake bake bake. Talk talk talk on the phone. Calling out now and again
"You all ok? You need me to rewind that" (I crumbled, so sue me, I needed the cookies made.) Talk, bake, watching the clock. She's leaving early today for dance class.
"Can you feed her before you go" mentally muttering Getting My Money's Worth
"Sure"
"I'll get the food ready," I said. Although why I should I don't know. This IS your job. And can't you pick up her toys after. It's not just hold her, you're a helper. You have to pick up after too. Argh. More trouble. then she's worth. Ahhh, but then, I did get 2 hours to make cookies...what do I expect for $8...I put a bib on Ellie, set her down, and gave my "Mother's Helper" the food. "Be careful," I warned, "she reaches now." I left the room to get cash for Anna's "paycheck". Less then two minutes later I came back in.
"I'll finish" I said. "I don't want you to be late for dance."
"Thank you" We air kissed as I handed her the cash.
"You're welcome" she chirped. And with a hair toss she was gone. Bouncing off down the sidewalk.
I looked at crying Ellie. still waiting to finish eating.
When you factor in the labor cost of the laundry,I'm fairly certain I didn't get my money's worth.
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