FEARLESS

Sign, Sign, Everywhere a Sign

A hoodie sweatshirt laying on the floor by the door.

An open Gatorade sitting on the end table.

A mostly eaten bag of Cheetos on the couch.

A gum wrapper on the counter.

A movie in the X Box.

The light on in his bedroom.

An entire collection of Power Rangers action figures and their collective pieces, parts, and weapons scattered all over the living room floor.

The old dog laying safely in the backyard.

He's baaaaccccckkkkk!

Passing the time

I am passing the time away from The Boy being preoccupied by thoughts of The Boy.

The wall above this moniter has a row of art work that he's done for me. Although some of it is monochromatic and outside the lines (Don't let your life be defined by lines, little one, I tell him), it is some of the most beautiful art I own.

Next to this moniter is a photo collage of his life to date. I sit and smile at the pictures instead of working. Working would actually be a good way to pass the time, too.

I've managed to only call him once a day, because I don't want my MIL to question whether I question her ability to take care of him. Our conversations mostly consist of him excitedly telling me of his day like this:

"Mom, today we went to the zoo. I have to tell you something mom I want a turtle and a frog and we saw some animals in the water and I thought they were beavers but they weren't - what were they grandma? oh yeah they were otters. and we went to a volleyball game but there was only girls playing. No, i already said that, grandma. You can take my Power Rangers Halloween bag back mom cause I got a different one and it has the red guy and the green guy and the yellow guy on it but not the blue guy...." and on and on and on - for 15 minutes.

All I could think of was the animated face doing all of this talking on the other end of the telephone, and how I miss his little self.

HE'LL BE THERE WHEN I GET HOME FROM WORK TODAY!

All That Junk

I'm really glad that my friends remember me even though we don't see each other much anymore.

I hate to say this, but I'm getting annoyed by the amount of junk email I get from them everyday.

The straw that broke the camel's back?

I received a joke with the subject line "Now I Really Feel Old!"

The sender was born the year I graduated from high school.

Lonely

When we went on our preschool hiatus, we scheduled my mom to be here for a week and my MIL to be here for a week. Doctor appointments interfered, so we had a change of plans. Yesterday we met my in-laws half way and they took The Boy home with them until Wednesday, at which time my MIL will bring him home and stay until Friday.

The Boy was so excited to go overnight to grandma's house. He packed his Power Ranger suitcase and backpack and waited eagerly to go. I took my camera because I wanted that oh-so-precious shot of him pulling his suitcase to grandma's car.

Only that isn't how it happened.

He thought we were taking him all the way to grandma's house. We met for an early dinner and to make the transfer of the child. This one little misunderstanding caused a major meltdown, resulting in tears from both The Boy and mommy, and daddy making the transfer of his suitcase while he clung tightly to my neck.

He's okay now, and so am I.

But it's terribly quiet at our house, and reminiscent of our childless days.

I miss him.

Smartypants

The Boy is inbetween preschools right now. On a semester break, so to speak. His grandma, my mother, is here this week playing with him.

He is loving it.

Last night when I took him to bed, I was laying there and I said, "I want to thank you for being so good for grandma this week."

He replied, "It's because I love to stay home, mommy. I wish I could stay home all the time, but I know I can't. You have to work and I have to go to school."

I said, "I know, honey. But, school is a good place to be. Your friends are all there, and you learn so much to get you ready for big boy school next year."

His response? "I already know I'm smart, mommy."

Well, alright then.

A New Low

I shouldn't even be telling you this.

It's privacy, as The Boy would say.

Before I became a mom, and even now that I am a mom, I hear stories of women that think they will never again get to go to the bathroom alone. It is true that I find The Boy tagging along frequently, but more and more, as he gets older, I am able to sneak in alone. I never wanted to lock the door on him, mostly because I don't want him to know it locks. He will knock and I say, "I need privacy, please." I don't mind as much if he observes "potty" but I never wanted him to observe "poop". "Poop" is definitely privacy.

Last Friday at W@lm@rt we had to do it. I couldn't leave him out there alone! Someone could snatch him. He could run off. My mind runs rampant with all the things that could happen. I asked him if he had to go and he did, so he went "potty" first. Then he sat in the chair in the corner and chatted with me as if it were the most natural thing in the world to poop in pairs. And, since I've sat with him so many times over the last 3.5 years, in his mind there is nothing wrong with it.

I don't think he's scarred for life, but I just might be.

Two doors down

The Boy has become friends with R, a boy who lives two doors down from us. I'm glad to see this happen, mostly because I grew up in a neighborhood where there were lots of kids to play with, which we did everyday.

R's mom has been a SAHM since he was born. She once told me that since R is not in daycare, and since she is not a morning person, they stay up until 11:00 or so at night and don't get up until mid morning. R is 3.5 years old.

Since I am not a SAHM, I assume she and her husband would realize that is not the way at our house. They have been over a lot this summer, and always at 8:30 I tell The Boy it's time to get ready for bed.

Last night The Boy asked if R could come over to play. After dinner we walked down to get him and brought him back to our house. It was around 7:00. His mom offered to come and get him in 15 minutes. I said I thought they could play for an hour or so. I have been hoping that since it's getting dark earlier, I could get The Boy into bed earlier.

They didn't leave until 9:45, even after I said it was way past bedtime. Dad came to get him and just didn't leave.

My mom suggested that from now on I need to go get him and then say I will bring him home in an hour. Smart lady, that one. No wonder she survived raising four kids.

Regarding the birthday gift dilemma below? Of course I would not attend without a gift - I was planning to put a small amount of money in a card since I have no real idea what the girl likes. However, we aren't able to attend, and it's legit. Joel is having late hockey practices, most of the time getting home after 7:00, and darn it all - we have to feed the kid.

An eye for an eye?

I have a dilemma.

Every spring we throw a big bash to celebrate The Boy's birthday. We supply a huge buffet of food and all the drinks, including alcohol. We invite our friends that have children close to The Boy's age, and also the friends that were supportive of us during our quest to add to our family.

We've been friends with J and J a long time. They have three kids, only one of which is close to The Boy's age. We always include them.

I never expect people to bring a gift, and with many people I specify that they don't bring anything. The Boy has plenty of stuff as it is. Sure it's nice to get presents on your birthday, but he really has no idea who brings one and who doesn't.

On this past birthday, J and J didn't bring a gift. No big deal. Except she told The Boy that she didn't have time to shop (SAHM with two kids in school at that time), and since they were going to Edmonton for a hockey tournament, they would bring him a gift from Edmonton.

The Boy has a memory like an elephant. He has asked me when he's getting his hockey present from J. I don't care that they didn't bring him a gift, even though we have celebrated every one of their kid's birthdays with them for 10 years now. I just wish she wouldn't have told him she was going to bring him something, and then not do it.

This Friday is their daughter's birthday party. We just got the email. Their daughter is 4 years older than The Boy. Do we go and take a gift, go and not take a gift, or not go at all? (I hope it goes without saying that I would never say to The Boy, "Well, we're not taking H a gift for her birthday because she didn't get you one!" but I do think he'll say, "But mommy, she didn't get me a present." Yes, he is smart enough to put that together.)

What would you do?

Biker Trash

You gotta get 'em started early!

On Labor Day weekend, we have an annual poker run in our biking community. One of the local beer distributors had a drawing for this little 50cc mini chopper. MFH signed me up and I won!

It'll be a year or two until he's ready to ride this, but isn't it cool?

Long Weekend

I am taking tomorrow off to make up for working our huge promo last Saturday. I am salaried and I refuse to just give them my weekend days for free, especially now that I have a family.

Today's post is randomness.

It's supposed to snow tomorrow night and Saturday. The best thing about the beginning of snow season here? The end of road construction and fire season, both of which I am so tired. We'll still have some beautiful fall weather - I like to call it Indian Summer - but I'm sure that is so NOT PC.

My FIL had surgery Tuesday to replace his heart defibraltor. He is only 60 but has had this thing for years, since he had dental work done without medicating first, and a bacteria attacked his heart. All went well and we're going to see him Saturday.

Today is The Boy's last day at his preschool. He will have mommy and grandmas time before starting a new preschool on October 2. The new one is owned and operated by teachers we know, and we are excited to make this change. (Don't get me started on the whole "preschool" and "teacher" issue.)

New and exciting on the exercise equipment question from last week is my purchase of an elliptical trainer. I have literally worn out every piece of equipment that I've ever had, so I got a good one. I look forward to a long, happy relationship with this one. I'll still go to the gym twice a week to lift.

My last little tidbit is a conversation the took place between my boss and myself yesterday afternoon.

Him - Is this your carpet sample?

Me - No. I recently got new carpet, but that's not mine.

Him - Really? I just got new carpet, too.

Me - Isn't your house like a year old? Didn't you have carpet put in when it was built?

Him - Yes, but I had a heavy berber and girlfriend-who-recently-moved-in likes to lay on the floor and it was too rough for her, so we had it replaced.

Ain't he sweet?

MFH wondered if she was getting rug burns.

Eh?

Joel arrived last Friday. He is our resident hockey player for the season. He is 17 years old, finished high school a year early, and it's his first time away from home. Joel is a nice kid and seems to be adjusting very well.

These kids are eligible to participate in the Junior hockey program until they are 21 years old, and are in pursuit of a college scholarship. They are required to live with a family in the community. We provide guidance (coughyeahrightcough) and supervision plus room and board in exchange for a small stipend. It's a great experience and we are pleased to be involved.

Joel is from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada. It is a BIG city, bigger than the biggest city in our state by at least twice as many people, so being here in our small town must be a huge culture shock to him.

He is the goaltender. The Boy is obsessed with that position, and is in heaven.

The season lasts until at least February 10, and possibly longer depending on where our team ends up in the playoffs. We are committed to staying here at least until then. That's why I mentioned moving in the spring in my last post about our little neighbor hoods. So yes, we do plan to move, in time for The Boy to start kindergarten in his new environment.

In the meantime, it's hockey season! Let the games begin!

Neighbor Hoods

There are two houses equidistant from us, one to the southwest and one to the northeast, that worry me. Well, not the houses, but the inhabitants, worry me. NE house was uninhabited until about a month ago, and strangely enough, they are acquainted with the people in SW house.

The teenage boys wear their baseball caps to the sides and are in those baggy pants that I keep hoping will go out of style. They ride their bikes back and forth between the houses at all hours. There are teenage girls, too, that drive between the two houses at all hours. There is at least one baby. I don't want to be judgemental but these kids just don't seem "nice". They are not bathed and their clothes are not clean.

I never see any sign of adults on a regular basis.

The houses are in dire need of paint, with bare wood exposed everywhere. The shutters are broken off. The grass is brown and dead. There is junk laying around, and I can only imagine what the insides must look like. A guy I work with has a daughter the same age that was hanging around the SW house some time back, and she said there was nothing more than some pot smoking going on. Nothing more? Other friends of ours have a daughter that got mixed up with them, and she ended up in treatment for addiction to meth.

The other night The Boy and I were home alone. I heard a loud car outside and looked to see a vehicle parked on the street across from our house with the motor running (and gas still at $3.00 a gallon here!) and two girls standing outside. When MFH came home he asked me how long they had been parked there. He went outside and asked if they needed something. He had observed someone walking back and forth from the car to the NE house. When they said no, MFH told them that an hour was long enough to be parked in front of our house and they needed to move along. He watched from the back yard when they left, and they drove to the NE house.

I don't know what to think or what to do. I do know that I've always considered our neighborhood a safe place to live. Now I'm not so sure.

All of a sudden, moving doesn't seem like such a bad idea to me. We hope to be gone in the spring.

Has America Changed?

I know I have.

Maybe not in my day to day life, but I now know that even as the greatest country in the world, we are not safe. We are not invincible. There is not good in everyone. Life is short.

I remember as a little girl, seeing the mailman walk up our driveway, crying. And then my own mother, crying. JFK had been shot and killed. I remember watching the funeral on TV and little John, Jr. saluting, vividly. I was only 4 years old, the same age my son is now, and I remember this. But, I saw it. I couldn't understand the gravity of the situation, but I saw it - so I remember.

Now, again, and many years later, I can remember exactly where I was and what I was thinking and what I was feeling when I heard that the twin towers had been struck by terrorists. I went to work, but sat in front of the TV all day, watching over and over again.

Helpless. Sad. Angry.

My son wasn't even born yet. I've been wondering how to explain that day to him. At 4 years old he can't even begin to understand, but I want him to know. Because, if his generation doesn't keep that memory alive? God only knows what could happen next.

Gym-iny Crickets!

We have a corporate membership at the state-of-the-art gym down the street. The company pays half our monthly dues. Why everyone at work isn't a member is beyond me.

I love to work out, and was pretty faithful about it until The Boy came home. I know it's the right thing to do for me in the long run, and ultimately The Boy will benefit from it as well, but I had a hard time justifying spending time away from him since he is in daycare. The gym is in Popular Town, where I work. I live 15 miles away in Small Town. I will not go home and make dinner, spend time with the boy, and drive back in. I won't go in the morning or at lunch because I have to shower after. I have waist length hair - it would just be too much to do that before work or at lunch.

My boss lets me leave early twice a week to go to the gym. My body is changing and so is my metabolism, and I feel that I now need more than that.

To the point - I am going to purchase home gym equipment. Does anyone have any suggestions as to what would be the most bang for my buck? I realize it would be hard to get cardio and strength training, so I will probably keep my gym membership to get a complete workout benefit.

Oh - I don't particularly like running (HATE.IT.), so I think a treadmill would be a bad investment. I will take any other recommendations under consideration.

One Ringy Dingy

I hate talking on the phone.

That hasn't always been the case. I fondly remember getting my own phone with my own number in my bedroom when I was in 9th grade. I was in heaven! I spent countless hours on the phone giggling with girlfriends and whispering with boyfriends. Isn't that the stuff that teenage girls are made of?

Now? Not so much. I make the obligatory calls to my mom a few times a week and occasionally to my brother, but that's it.

Today the frickin' phone is ringing off the hook at work. It is not my job to answer the phone. I don't mean to sound all high and mighty, but seriously - it is not part of my job description. We have an administrative assistant and three sales people currently on staff. Yet, I am stuck answering the phone.

I want to pull the damn jack out of the wall and throw it in the street.

And So It Begins

I registered The Boy in the hockey program last night.

When he was about 18 months old, we attended a hockey game. He was enthralled. He watched it intently - and I know you are all thinking, just how intently can an 18 month old watch anything? You'd be surprised. He was speaking very well by then, and he loved it. We went to a few more games in the next months, and he was hooked.

It took me almost six months to find a skating coach for him. There were public programs available, but he was too young. The only person to call me back was a female figure skating coach. She said she wanted a session with him to evaluate how well he could listen and communicate. After that 20 minute session, we had weekly lessons on the ice for a year. But, he wasn't old enough to play.

So, we practiced. And practiced. And practiced. In the kitchen. On the patio. On the frozen ice pond by our house when weather permitted. We house a teenaged hockey player during the season, and we attend every game. His interest has never waned.

Finally, he's old enough to play. He is SO excited.

My little boy is growing up. Fast.

Smoke On The Water

Well, not really. It's smoke in the valley.

We are on fire, people.

Not us in beautiful valley, specifically. But, 80 miles to the east there are thousands of acres burning (picture), and across the beautiful Bridger Mountains to the south there's another fire. Consequently, the smoke is hanging in the valley and it sucks.

We cannot see the tops of the mountains that surround us. Hell, we can't even see the sun. Breathing? Hurts. I feel like a chain smoker. The smell? Yuck.

256 homes have been evacuated. I feel so sorry for the people and the animals and the firefighters. The fire to the east is so big and burning so hot that the end is not really in sight until we have rain and/or snow.

The forecast calls for neither this week.

Agree to Disagree

There are certain topics that are sure to make my blood boil. One is the issue of Daycare vs. Stay at home mom.

I don't consider health insurance and a college fund for The Boy luxuries or fluff. These are necessities. If I don't take care of him, who will? I know that if he got sick he would be treated in spite of insurance, but then you all would pay in the end, and how responsible would that be of me, as his mother?

I am fortunate to make enough money that even after insurance, daycare, and my retirement fund, I still bring home some of my paycheck. I refuse to be looked down on for this. I refuse to be thought less of because I work outside the home.

My son is thoughtful and well mannered. He is an only child, yet he knows to share. He is 4.5 years old and can identify the alphabet by sight and sound. He knows his numbers. He has been speaking in sentences since he was 18 months old. He is considerate of those younger than him. These are all things that I'm not sure he would know if he were home with me, in spite of the fact that I have a degree in teaching.

I am wondering why, as women, we can't respect the fact that we are all in this together. We should support each other, not tear each other down. We all just want what's best for our children. Nobody is better able to make that decision for my son than me.