Last Day of School Rain

My son looked out the window just now and said, "I'm so depressed!"

He has a good reason.

It is the last day of school. A half day. First day of summer. . . . and it's raining.

The big plan was to get everyone out to the playground near us that is made entirely of old tires. It's a pretty cool place. The girl scout troop and other friends were all coming and now?

Guess, what? They are coming to MY HOUSE instead.

and now, the boy says, "What a rip off!"

 . . . out of the mouths' of babes.

And this is why you should not take Garine camping

Nobody in their right mind would ask me to go camping with them.  . . And this is why many of my best friends, my husband and various scouting groups have done just that. I would not love you if you were not a little bit nuts.


This particular camping weekend was instigated my those pesky Cub Scouts that are always tying knots, waving around pocket knives, and pushing caramel popcorn at you, i.e. my son. 

In keeping with the Isassi activity theme of "rain-will-follow-you-everywhere," there was a tornado watch and warning on the eve of our trip. This cleaned out the campsite of any debris and other various camping wimps. 

We arrived in the morning to a sparkling campsite and blue skies.  We also arrived very late for the mandatory cub guided hike had left already - bad camper moment #One. 

My husband, the allknowing camper who never allows us to forget that he used to "wilderness camp" in the scrub mountains of northern Mexico with nothing but a bottle of Vodka, one match, and a pocket knife, headed up our family hike - not via the wide and luxurious path taken by the scouts, but "Orange Trail"  - marked as such for avid hikers.  This path included scaling large boulders and tripping over smaller ones.  My kids, as mountain goats are called sometimes, had no problem with this. I, on the other hand, had somewhat of a problem with this. I wound up as the baby sister left behind, serially calling out, "Hey, guys! Wait for me!" as they disappeared around a bend.

Eventually, we arrived at a beautiful waterfall called Cunningham Falls. The sign said that people should not attempt to climb the rocks around the falls. As you can see from the photo here, nobody heeded that warning.  

My daughters flung off their shoes the second we arrived, saying they wanted to use their toes as God intended -- to hang on to the side of rocks for dear life. I said, "Don't come crying to me when you cut your feet and lie bleeding to death in the killer babbling brook!"


They, in their bare feet, waded across the creek. Me, in my sneakers and socks, tried to pick and hop my way across. I made it . . . sort of.

That is actually me standing in the middle of the above photo. You are not close enough to see that I am holding a sopping wet pair of sneakers and soggy, white socks. The only sneakers and socks I had brought with me on the camping trip. Bad camper moment #Two. 

The air was warm. The sky was sunny. The water was cool. 

After some splashing and climbing and sunning and dipping, we headed back to the legal side of the creek. The kids found their dry shoes, slipping them on easily before returning to the forest. I rolled on my wet socks and shoes and made squish noises all the way back to the campsite. 


Once back, we started up a fire for dinner. I had one of my scathingly brilliant ideas! I put my socks on the fire ring to dry. They were far from the actual fire. They would be dry in a flash and I would have warmth for my feet when night fell and it got cold out. This turned out to be bad camper moment #'s Three through Ten:

My socks caught on fire!

I pulled them off the ring, beating them on the ground, since I could not stomp on them in my bare feet. My family watched with their mouths hanging open. Then, they laughed at me. 


I had to call to another scout mom to beg for socks to rescue my chilly tootsies. Good thing we have cell phones for these emergencies. 

 We Are The Model Bully

There is a big media blitz on bullying going on. There's a movie coming out. Lady GaGa started a foundation. Radio and TV are filled with horror stories as the commentators act surprised and appalled. 

The number one tip for parents to keep in mind when raising their kids is that kids will do what you do, not what you say. Unfortunately, the messages our actions send, as parents and as a whole society, are too often the exact opposite of our lip service. 

Why do we expect kids to be all loving and kind to each other when everything they see in society is not? Bart Simpson spends all his time bullying his own father, and we find it funny. Every movie and TV show geared for teens is about how to be conniving, tough, or overly competitive. Batting around insults, usually directed at one unfortunate character is the norm. Or, even worse, we revel in the bad behavior of whichever reality TV star of the day has done something violent or otherwise mean. The fact that there is even a show called “Bad Girls Club” on cable is enough to reveal that we, as a collective, do not promote the concept of getting along.

The current political campaigns are another grand demonstration of how to bully. Each side spends a lot of time and energy directing verbal arrows at the other, designed to encourage public hate. This includes digging up embarrassing history about the candidates to spreading lies that slam the opposition's dignity. These are vicious and continuous verbal assaults on one individual, backed by some kind of gang (here the political party or Super PAC). I'm sorry, but that is the definition of bullying. And in this case, the one who is the best at calculated bullying, often wins. Few of us in the real world could withstand it.

As a country, we lord the threat of violence over other counties. Basically saying, do what we say or we'll pound you. Then we wait for countries, like Iraq, after school and screw them up.

Then there is the realities that don't get broadcast so much until it blows up. Let's start with the mortgage debacle of the 2000's. To get what they wanted, people in the banking industry lured in unsuspecting people who should never have qualified for a home loan and gave it to them. First acting all nice and friendly, then turning on them and ruining their lives. Is that not bullying?

In the office, I've often seen people – well dressed and educated adults – engage in career backstabbing, rumor mongering and office politics in order to put others down and get ahead in business. This especially comes screaming out when the prospect of layoffs is on the table or you are competing for clients. 

So why are we so surprised and when we find out that kids are bullying each other? We act like we were never in school ourselves and that we don't promote and witness bullying on a global scale.

I think it's great that people are finally talking about it and actually saying out loud that it needs to change, but I have a hard time seeing how that is going to happen if WE don't change our own actions. And, I don't really see that happening anytime soon.

Helicopter Moms Anonymous update: Don't let this be you!

I've explained in my writings that I am a recovering Helicopter Mom. (see my up original confessions and the formation of HMA here.)

As part of my 12 steps to recovery, I need to share the stories of Heli Moms gone overboard and I believe I've heard the coming of the apocalypse for the newest generation. Yesterday,  On All Things Considered air one such horror show: Helicopter Parents Hover In The Workplace.

The most horrible horror of this story is that the "expert" concludes that workplaces should embrace the meddling parents!

So, now, Mom is not only responsible for raising the kid, feeding the kid, doing all the kid's homework, covering up for the kid, and the company will refuse to hire HER because she is over 50 and has not had a paying career for 20 years, (note, that I say 'paying' job, because God knows she's been working) but now, she has to do her kid's job herslef!

Bad NPR! Go to your room! This is enabling, like inviting an alcoholic to a bar and shoving a martini in her hand.

Me and the Dog (repost)

Ok, now I get it.
Why all those single, 40-something guys have dogs. You are a god to your dog. You are Mick Jagger in 1965. You are a revelation whenever you walk into a room. It's sick. . . and I love it!

My family campaigned for a bout 5 years for us to get a dog. I had the attitude handed down to me by my mother, who said, "Having a dog is like having a 2 yr old child who never learns anything. " That's right. You have to feed them, wash them and clean their poop for their whole lives.

Then, after 20 years, my independent, super cool cat, Strat, passed away. (Yes, her name was Strat, after my guitar - a black and white Fender Stratocaster). It was awful. I cried a lot. My husband, who railed against the cat for our entire marriage of 15 years, cried a lot. The cat had come with me in the marriage deal. Months went by and I saw how alone I was in the house when the kids were at school and my husband at work. I'd sit at my computer and do my work for my clients or the bills and suddenly realize - oh my God....I'm a-l-l A-L-O-N-E in this house. There is no other living being here but me!

It freaked me out.

So, finally, I agreed to get a dog. I listed the conditions to my family: 1. I would not have to ever pick up poop. They, collectively, would be doing that. 2. We would get a "rescue dog." 3. We would get an ADULT dog - no puppies or adolescents with their baby needs. 4. Said dog would be between 30 and 40 pounds in size. No yappers and no large bear types.

Once I made the decision, it only took a few weeks for me to hone in on the right dog. She was a "child" of a divorce. A shepherd mutt with a heart of gold. Already house trained and almost 4 years old. She had good manners and was smart and basically well trained.


She came home with us a on a wednesday evening, riding the back of the van with three excited children who all called her name over and over for her to look at them. The excitement wore off soon enough, after the daily walks, feeding, and pooper-scooping. But the real doom for the kids was the growing admiration the dog was nurturing toward me.

I was home all day. I am the obvious person who brings the food. I was alpha dog!!! I had dreaded the concept. I couldn't get my kids to pick up their underwear off the floor of their bedroom, how was I going to get a inarticulate beast to mind me??? I started watching Animal Planet and National Geographic shows - "the Dog Whisperer" and "It's me or the dog" so that I would get it right and be in charge,

Well, it worked
Too well.

Now,after a couple months together and the dog adores me. She sleeps plastered up against my side of the bed and does not move until I get up in the morning. She sits right outside the bathroom door, when I need to leave her stranded in the hall for three minutes. She follows me from room to room in the house. She lies next to the front door when I leave and acts like it's the second coming when I return - even when the rest of the family is still home with her. She sits when I say "sit." She moves 6 feet away from me when I say, "out." No wonder people love having a dog. You are their god.

But, I'm a cat person and this is the reason why -- sometimes, I'd like to be alone. Having a cat was more like having a roommate. If you were there, great. If you were not there, great.

Now, I feel guilty when I have to go to the grocery store or the gym and leave her behind. She does that head cocked to one side confusion look and then the stereotypical sad puppy eyes. It kills me every time!

But, y'know what? I'm getting to love my dog. She's a keeper. And maybe the I'll get used feeling the burden of adoration. After all, things could be worse than being a rock star in your own house.

Is this a Ghost story?

I recently put out the question on my Facebook page about whether ghosts exist. I got a large number of comments that ran the gambit of opinions. People believe. People don't believe.
Whether you believe it or not, there are always weird things that happen that are sure hard to explain. I mentioned that I've had a few encounters that I thought were ghosts  and people wanted details. The stories are kind of long and disconnected, so I said that I would put them on my blog. Two of my experiences were more of the traditional "There is a ghost in this room" kind of things. 
But one is more personal and came as a dream.  There is no way to prove that it was nothing other than a dream, but it sure felt like more.
 I wrote this last year:

The last time I saw my father was in a dream. It was a half hour before my mother passed away in a bedroom down the hall from where I was sleeping. I say that I “saw” him, because it was one of those dreams that you experience like reality. Maybe, if I was writing for the King James Bible, I would have called my meeting with my father a “vision.” My more psychic friends would call it a “visitation,” since my father had been gone from this earth for a about six years.

Let me fill you in on the situation I was in. My mother was losing her battle with lymphoma. She made her decision to stop chemotherapy and retired to my sister's home, basically to wait it out.  I visited as many days as possible  for almost a year supposedly to help, but mostly feeling useless. Driving an hour each way, I'd dodge into the kitchen through the side door between my work deadlines, my kids' homework sessions and chores. My sister really did everything. I just listened and held her hand and my mothers hand for a while, then ran back home to pick up a kid from soccer, make dinner and try again tomorrow.

But his one afternoon, I decided to stay the night. We knew we were near the end and Mom was unable to get out of the bed.

I tossed and turned all night and then at about 5:30am, I had a dream . . . or I want to say it was a dream, but I think it was really much more. Dad was sitting next to me in my Aunt's living room, telling me how everything was going to be all right. He used his standard phrase, “Don't worry about it.”

I asked him, “Are you here to take mom?” He nodded his head and patted my shoulder. I could still feel the pressure of his hand when I woke up with a start. The dog was barking.

I bolted from the bed, ran down the hall and found my mom, gone.

An 8 yr old boy's guide to the Hiccups

This is my son's list of what to do in order tog et rid of hiccups -- verbatim

- have a glass of water up side down
- eat a spoonful of sugar
- hold your breath for 30 seconds
- stand on your head and cross your eyes
- hum the american anthem