Colorblind

You all know that we've signed up once again to be house parents to a young adult hockey player from who-knows-where.

Recently I got an email from the housing coordinator telling us the players will be reporting to the arena on Sept. 16 at 4:00. We are to be there to meet him and bring him home.

Then I get another email:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Stiletto-
Would you be agreeable to take a black player? I'm not saying it's for sure, it's just a possibility.

signed,
housing coordinator

Is this a test? I will say it took the wind out of my sails. I simply sent the following reply:

"Not a problem."

This is the biggest city in Montana. Granted there are only about 120,000 residents, but it is a diverse group of people. And here's a big secret - my own son is not caucasian. GASP!

BUS UPDATE: I was careful to let The Boy set the tone upon returning from his two hour bus ride on the first day of school. MFH told me "If you are upset and crying, he will be, too. And there is a good chance he won't want to get back on that bus." He walked to the door of the bus toward me and smiled. "That was a long bus ride!" he said. The next morning, I sent a note to the teacher asking her to please walk him to the correct bus. Yesterday when he got home, he had a tag on his shirt with his name and the bus route number, so everyone would know where he should be. He was home at 3:05.

A very long day

The bus picked The Boy up at 7:46.

I walked back home with tears streaming down my face, and decided to get busy to make the time pass quickly.

I sat at my computer and worked, and before I knew it, it was almost 11:00!

Then I cleaned house. A few more hours pass.

I am still not finished painting that blue bathroom. I have run out of steam, I guess. Only the closet remains. All of the closets in this house have those organizer systems in them, and while I love that, there are all these little plastic shelf holder things screwed into the wall. We decided to paint around them rather than take them out. Bad decision, and probably why I haven't finished that room yet. I have an hour to kill so I get out the paint.

3:00! Finally! The bus drops The Boy off at 3:06.

The bus doesn't come.

At 3:30 I call MFH who says they are probably just running late. No, don't call the school yet.

At 3:40 I decide to call the school. This is ridiculous. The school clerk of "You're on free lunch, right?" fame tells me the buses are running late and not to worry, but call back if I need to.

WTF?

Not one minute later my phone rings and the caller ID says School Dist 2. No, The Boy is not home yet. They'll look for him. A few minutes later they call back saying they've found him. He is with the bus driver, safe, and will be home with the big kids on our route.

The PRINCIPAL put him on the wrong bus. She put him on the same bus he takes to school. Remember my dismay at the two different buses issue?

I asked, "When can I expect him?" Probably within 15 minutes. It is now 3:48.

At 4:20 I finally see the bus coming down our street. He got on the bus at 2:30 when his school day ended.

All I could think about was the safe little community we used to live in, where the daycare providers were going to pick him up when his day ended and get him safely back to their facility until I picked him up after work.

First Day of School

I swore I would never wish my child's life away. Instead of saying "I can't wait until he can walk, talk, whatever" I would say "I look forward to the day that he can walk, talk, whatever".

I admit there were a few times this summer that I said, "I look forward to the first day of school."

When you have a child that first day of school seems so far off. And then it's here before you know it.

He's ready.

I'm left behind wondering why I bothered to put on mascara this morning.

What's my motivation?

This is a line my son picked up from S.pongebob. My usual reply is, "How about a knuckle sandwich?"

Of course, you all know I am kidding.

Yesterday goes down in (our) history as the day The Boy rode his bike without training wheels.

What a difference a year makes. Last year, at 4 1/2, we tried and tried but he just couldn't get the hang of it. Now, at 5 1/2, he was ready. I had him going in less than 15 minutes and at the end of the day he was starting off by himself and turning around while pedaling instead of getting off of the bike. He was also standing up to pedal, and leaving skid marks when he stopped.

This kid is sure to take me on one wild ride through life.

The Boy just told me on Sunday that he wanted the training wheels off his bike. See, he wants motorcycle and MFH told him he can't have one until he can ride a bicycle on two wheels.

Now he knows the meaning of motivation.

Vulnerable

I have applied for four jobs and so far I've heard nothing. I know that the hiring process can be rigorous, but really I thought only my own boss takes three or four weeks just to peruse applications before contacting people for interviews. I have often thought, "For crying out loud! By the time you get around to interviewing people, if they are worth anything at all they have already gotten a job!"

Now that has come back to bite me in the arse.

Am I worth nothing at all? Why haven't I been contacted for an interview?

I could stroke my ego by saying that some of them asked my previous salary, and they don't think I'll work for less money. Or, they may think I'm over qualified.

My resume is short and sweet. I have only one job on there because I've been there 16 years. Is there anything one can do to make the resume stand out? I was visiting with a friend of my family, and he said what will get me the job is in visiting with me. Great. But, how do I get to that point?

Last Wednesday evening I was looking through online job listings in my area. There was one for a part-time AR/AP clerk. I applied. Thursday morning I had an email from said company with an application attached asking me to fill it out and drop it off at my earliest convenience. I dropped it off Friday afternoon after The Boy's vaccination appointment (which took two hours by the way, WTF?). They conducted an interview on the spot. I had The Boy with me - they didn't care. They set him up in front of the television with a soda, and we visited for about an hour and a half.

They asked if I could work full-time. I don't know. I really wanted to be home when The Boy gets home from school. Otherwise I'll have to enroll him in after school care at a cost. Full-time gets me benefits - good ones. They also asked my salary requirements, which are higher than what I see jobs offering around here.

I talked to MFH husband about this on Friday night. He said, "You are interviewing them as much as they are interviewing you. They need a person. They've had this job posted for a month. You don't want just a job, you want the right job for you. If you are what they want, they'll be willing to pay what you requested."

The biggest change with this position?

I wouldn't be the head bitch. I'd be working under the head bitch.

It's been a long time.

Reaction

Poor Boy.

We awoke to "Mom, I need you! Daddy, I want you to take my temperature. I feel so hot!"

102.8

"It must be a reaction to the injections," I said to MFH.

Ibuprofen and a nest on the floor in front of S.pongebob and he is now sleeping soundly.

In the meantime, I am painting the blue bathroom. What I touted as therapy when I painted The Boy's bedroom is now just a chore. I wonder why? Because it was a pleasure to me as a mom to make The Boy's room look like he wanted it to look?

Or is it because instead of simply painting four walls, I am painting around plumbing, a toilet, a sink, and a shower?

Bleh.

Beyond a shadow of a doubt (part 2)

I took The Boy's vaccination chart with me to the clinic. I don't know how I didn't catch the missing vaccinations because there it is right on the chart - two lines, one for DTP and one for polio, with no dates written in there.

Now, what bothers me is that I looked at the explanation of benefits that we received after the May vaccinations, and there are 4 injection charges on there. Does MMR count for three? Because he got just MMR and chicken pox that day.

Today he got three more because the doctor said he would need another chicken pox vaccination at some point, so why not get it over with?

Why not, indeed.

The Boy was a brave child, so close to tears. They put the injections in his arms instead of his meaty thighs, the poor soul. I'm surprised the needle didn't come out the other side.

On the bright side, if there is one, we discussed the INH therapy, and this pediatrician said she would have recommended the medication in his scenario. Since he was in an hogar and around so many people as an infant, he could have been exposed to TB. Two months down, seven to go.

A shadow of a doubt

I got a call from The Boy's school yesterday.

It seems he is missing two of the vaccinations he needs to start school on Wednesday.

I questioned it. The clerk said, "We had an RN come in to interpret the records, and she said he is missing a DTP and a polio. We wanted to let you know ASAP because he can't start school without them."

I told her I would call our clinic in the old town and double check with them. I did, and sure enough he is missing those two vaccinations.

How the hell does that happen?

I apologized to The Boy, and he said, "That just sucks."

Yes, yes it does.

Now I have to wonder about that doctor's recommendation to put him on nine months of INH therapy for his false positive TB test with the clear chest x-ray.

Family affair

There was only one dad at the kindergarten open house yesterday.

MFH had planned to attend, but then a nasty tooth got in the way. He had a root canal gone bad, and ended up having a molar pulled. It had broken in half within his jaw. You know it had to be hopeless, because I have never met a dentist that would pull a tooth.

What surprised me even more than the just one dad, however, was the number of grandmas in the room. I know they were grandmas because let's face it - at 48 I have to be one of the oldest mothers of a five year old in existence.

Tardy

Well, my son was tardy for the first time today.

The invitation to the kindergarten open house did not state that it was mandatory to be there from 9:30 until 10:30. I thought it was just a drop-in function. You know, come in and introduce yourselves, etc. No. We had activities.

We were 15 minutes late. I felt bad and The Boy looked a little embarrassed. I tossed out a "Well, I haven't been on time for anything really in about five years" to which the parents all laughed.

They told me we hadn't missed anything, but it was not true. We missed the part where the teacher told us which door the children should use to enter school. Fortunately I heard a parent remind her daughter, so I asked and then made sure The Boy understood.

He will be riding the bus to school, so we picked up his bus pass. And darn it all, he doesn't ride the same bus to school as he will ride home from school. WTF? Why would you do that to a five year old?

Lastly, I went to buy him a lunch ticket. He won't eat hot lunch everyday I'm sure, as he is kind of a picky eater, but I wanted to buy a month of lunches just to try to get him to expand his food choices a little. The school clerk said, "You're on free lunch, right?"

Well that took me by surprise. I mean my tattoo on my bicep was showing, but I showered and combed my hair and even put on makeup. The boy was all spit shined, too. I said, "I don't believe we qualify for free lunch."

Although, we are still making two house payments and on those days I certainly feel poor.

Making progress

Well, we've been in our house about seven weeks now. Seven weeks! I can't believe how time flies. We still have boxes, boxes - no longer everywhere, but confined to the garage and the shed. We vowed to go through two a night until they are all gone.

Remember the blue crackle paint cabinets? It was a pain in the butt, but they are gone. I found this lovely artichoke color. I wish it was a little darker, but it will do. I don't want to tackle that job again for a long time. The former owner had red under some of the blue crackle, and when the paint was stripped they were all gummy and the new paint wouldn't stick. The cabinets all had to be sanded, cleaned with TCP, painted with a primer, and then two coats of the green. I still need to put on a topcoat.

This is The Boy's blue room. I painted it last week. Blue is his favorite color. He has outgrown the bedding, and I am going today to look for something hockey. The Boy wants T.ransformers, to which we said NO. I don't want anything trendy like that. In six months he'll be tired of it. We have hockey curtains and hockey decorations, so hockey it will be.

I am thinking of tackling the blue bathroom this week, and the only thing left will be the very dark purple dressing room with the antique bureau sink in my room. The sink will stay for now, but the purple is going to a dark avocado color. Or cranberry. I am having trouble deciding.

I used to hate painting. While I will probably never love it, I am finding it very therapeutic.

I really need to get out of the house more.

Exposure

I've always believed that it is my duty as a parent to expose The Boy to as many activities as possible. I want him to know what's out there, whether it be sports, areas of study, or extra-curricular activities.

MFH would insist that's why he only wanted one child. "I want him to have every opportunity," he would say.

And, idle hands are the devil's workshop.

I can honestly that I've never met a young adult, male or female, that stayed busy in and out of school and fell into that world of drugs that scares the sh&* out of me.

This has been a week of opportunity.

We had the motocross. The next night MFH took The Boy to an extreme riding exhibition. There were 4 wheelers, snowmobiles, and motorcycles whose riders would flip in the air and do tricks while on the machines. I must admit I breathed a sigh of relief that he doesn't really want to do that - now, anyway. But as least he knows it's out there. On Sunday we are going to the drag races.

Last night was professional bull riding, which we did not attend.

As a mom, you gotta draw the line somewhere!

T-R-O-U-B-L-E

Santa brought The Boy this 4 wheeler for Christmas a year ago, even though it was way too big and kind of still is. But, Santa got a really good deal on it, and he knew The Boy would grow into it. Santa is smart that way.

At our old house he just didn't have much opportunity to ride it. Here we have a whole acre that is not landscaped on which he can "tear it up". Right now there is only one hump, but when MFH gets his shop built, he's going to put in a little riding track with more challenges.

For the last few weeks, The Boy is on this thing as much as we'll allow him to ride. Honestly? I prefer it to N.ick at N.ite or N.ick in the daytime.

Our state fair is in progress this week. Tonight the action is Arenacross.

Motorcycle racing.

MFH took The Boy.

He loved it.

I knew he would.

Well, I was looking for something to keep him occupied in the hockey off-season that didn't involve a soccer ball.

Maybe the "something" was in our garage all along!

Facing my past

Last Thursday morning when I rode my bike up to get the newspaper, I noticed that our sprinkler system wasn't running. I was not that alarmed since it has quit running once before, when the pipe to the pump down at the ditch became filled with debris. MFH promised to look at it in the evening.

After dinner, he went down to the pump and cleaned it out. He came back to the house and called me to turn on the system for a test run. Water began gushing out from under one very bloated spot in the sod in our yard. We appeared to have a broken water line.

My ex is the best sprinkler guy in town. He isn't the one that installed this system, but he does great work.

Now, we were married a long time ago. Our divorce was as amicable as a divorce can be. We've both moved on, though he never remarried, and we've seen each other on occasion. My little brother was his best friend and employee when he was alive. Even so, I didn't especially want to call him.

MFH insisted. "He's the best in town."

So I called, and left a lengthy explanation on his machine. I ended with "If you don't want to work on this system for all the obvious reasons, I will completely understand. If that is the case, would you be able to recommend someone else?"

He didn't call back that night and I figured he wasn't going to. I tried to call the guy who installed the system and ended up leaving him a message as well.

Friday afternoon when I returned from our picnic, we had a message from ex. He would be able to come on Monday and to let him know if that's okay.

MFH removed the sod and dirt from the area on Saturday and called him to let him know what the problem was and that Monday was good.

I have to leave for swimming lessons this afternoon. Between you and me, it would be just fine with me if he showed up while I was gone.

I didn't vote

because like the rest of America, I just expected Daughtry would win.

But I won't pass up the chance to see him in concert (with 12 Stones as an added bonus!).

Tonight.

Wheeeeeeee!

How low can you go?

We have signed up to be a billet family for the hockey organization here. We realize it might be difficult not to root for our old team (I'm sure we'll silently cheer our returning players on), but we wanted to stay involved in the program for all the right reasons - to provide a good home for the young man that is away from his own, possibly for the first time in his life, and to provide The Boy with a positive role model.

We stay in touch with many in the hockey community in our old town. It is a very close knit group for the most part. The other night the booster club held a going away party for our coach, who is moving on to coach at a prestigious private school for hockey prodigees.

We heard, as a result of this reception, that one of the billet husband and wife teams from last year recently divorced.

She was sleeping with the 19 year old player, a young man half her age, that was living with them.

It must be a real ego booster to be able to seduce a 19 year old man.

I wonder what their royal highnesses would have to say about this?

It kind of makes flashing a boob seem rather trivial.

Meet the teacher

We got a letter from the school today welcoming The Boy to kindergarten. How very exciting! We now know that he is to be in Room 7 with Mrs. R.einhardt. We are to report to the classroom on August 22 to take in his supplies and get acquainted with his teacher.

I must say that this was such a relief to me. I was so worried about dropping him off on the first day to a new situation and just leaving him there. I know, I know. He will be fine. I will be a blubbering idiot.

Speaking of school supplies, he is not allowed any character pencils or character portfolios. How sad is that. He is all about S.pongebob and T.ransformers - and has to have plain yellow number 2 pencils.

Now, I realize they might be a distraction - but to what degree?

When I was teaching I was not nearly so strict in this regard. But that was a hundred years ago and I'm sure teaching styles have changed at least that many times over since then.

All this excitement came after getting a call from the swimming instructor that they can fit him into the last session of the summer. We were so hoping for this to happen - he is making progress, loves it, and needs to have this outlet for his energy during the day.

Now if only my old house would sell. That's not too much to ask in one day, is it?

Decision making

Naturally I will not pull The Boy out of school at the half day mark. He would miss out on what the kindergarten teachers are so excited to start teaching this year - math and science. It would be a shame not to be introduced to these subjects that his father holds so dear.

Plus, I think if he were to leave at noon, he'd be sad at what he was leaving behind. The Boy is very social and it will be good to get him around other kids again. Soon.

I applied for two jobs. There is an after school program available that I can enroll The Boy in if needed. One job is part-time and the other I am not sure about. I hope wherever I end up will be flexible - hockey starts soon and I need to be able to get him there. The after school program is hiring, too, and that is very enticing to me. The pay is reasonable, and I'd be near him after school and our schedules would mesh for days off and summer break.

This morning, after swimming lessons, we went shopping for school clothes. The Boy has good taste, and is a clothing whore. We left the store with more than he needed.

The acorn doesn't fall far from the tree.

I'm a big kid now!

We registered for kindergarten today.

We registered way back in March or April in the town we used to live in. I guess they want to know how many students to plan for. I tried to register here when we first moved, but nobody works in this district in the summer until August 1, and that's when they started new student registration.

At our old home, The Boy would have been able to walk the one block to school. Then the daycare providers were going to pick him up for the afternoon.

Now, he gets to ride the bus. I remember when he loved to watch buses, but would scream bloody murder if you took him anywhere near one. My little boy is growing up. He's very excited about the bus.

Another big deal is that all day kindergarten passed here. Only it's not all day. It's 8:25 to 2:30. We had the option to pull him out at noon, but then we began to wonder what he would miss and if he would fall behind. I am in a pickle about this. What really would be the point of me staying at home if he's not here? The working moms were huge advocates of the all day kindergarten, but these children will still need some type of daycare until mom or dad gets off work, so what really is the point? I worry that we are pushing our kids too hard and fast.

As long as I have my work at home job, it would be fine. But my boss is still trying to replace me. The update on that is he offered the job to someone, and they turned it down. So he's back to square one.

Anyway, we registered and we bought all the supplies his teacher had on her list. They are stacked neatly in my office along with his new T.ransformers backpack.

And I am left wondering what the heck happened to the past 5 years.

And I worry that the next 13 will pass way too quickly.

Letting go

My very good friend of 20 some years here in Big City is also MFH's aunt - and my FIL's sister. She invited us to dinner last night. We had several glasses of wine and were able to discuss my in-laws overreaction to my indiscretion.

Her theory - it was not a big deal to my FIL until my MIL made it a big deal.

My FIL is not happy with his life. My MIL is turning their home into a museum with her ongoing collecting of antiques. He hates it. They don't sleep together - not even in the same room - and haven't for years because she is a fitful sleeper and he snores. TMI - they haven't had sex in years. I have no doubt they love each other, perhaps out of habit more than anything, but they are not in a healthy relationship.

Last Saturday night they went to dinner with relatives of ours. I was told that they got into a pissing match because he wants to buy a new car and she started screaming at him at the top of her lungs. They were asked to leave the restaurant.

My theory is that he then told her what I did because he wanted to take the heat off of himself and turn it on to me. It worked.

I am a grudge holder. I just am. I am angry that they turned a small moment in time into such a huge fiasco. I told MFH last night that I will let go of this and put it in the past, because it is not healthy for me to dwell on these ill feelings. I will not let a sex starved man and a prude woman rule how I live my life.

But, my son will suffer because I no longer want to spend much time with them.

His grandparents will suffer even more.

Don't misunderstand - MFH can take The Boy and visit all he wants. I have no problem with that. But he's angry as well.

My friend told me not to worry, it will blow over.

I know it will.

But I will never feel the same.

Take 3

I've been trying to write this post for three days now.

I am about to air the biker trashy side of me. The one that doesn't appear much since I became a mommy.

Please don't hate me.

MFH and I went out for drinks on July 21. We don't go out much. In fact, The Boy has only had a babysitter maybe 5 times in 4.5 years.

Back in the day, we would occasionally play this ridiculous game called tit for tat. MFH would flash me a nipple as subtly as a man can do such a thing, and naturally I would flash him back.

Oops. Yeah. Well my in-laws found out about it and I am in trouble with a capital T. She read me the riot act and he is giving me the cold shoulder. There were no close friends or relatives present, and it has been blown way out of proportion.

In case you're wondering, my FIL heard about it the next time he went to that bar - which is far too often in my opinion but that is neither here nor there.

Nothing has been mentioned by either of them to MFH, and that I can't really understand. It's not as though he was an innocent bystander. I have yet to address that.

I fear that my relationship with my in-laws has changed forever.

While shopping at C.ostco on Sunday, I found a bottle of wine that was appropriately labeled "Le Grand Noir".

Black Sheep.

I bought it and put it in my wine rack as a reminder to behave myself.