Color Blind

The other night The Boy asked, "Dad, is my skin black or white?"

"Son, your skin is white," MFH replied. Then he looked at me and said, "I find it refreshing that he didn't know the difference."

Frustrated

The Boy has had a bad month.

Since going back to school from the Christmas break, he's had six days where he didn't get a note sent home from the teacher.

Six.days.

It makes for some hard times at home, too, because we don't understand why he can't or won't behave at school and we get angry when we see another note from the teacher. He's had television, x box, snacks, allowance - everything short of hockey - taken away from him.

I refuse to take away hockey. He needs an outlet for his energy, he works hard at it, and it's the biggest positive in his life right now.

MFH decided to visit with the principal to see what exactly is happening at school and what we can do differently.

She started off the conversation by calling our son "a naughty boy". The third time she said it, MFH got pissed. "I want you to quit saying that," he said. "My son doesn't steal or lie, he just doesn't listen. That doesn't make him a naughty boy."

There are three or four boys in his class that are consistently sent to the principal for one thing or another. The other kindergarten class doesn't have this problem, but then that teacher is "seasoned" and loves kindergarten. The Boy's teacher as much as told me that she took this position to get into the system, but it certainly was not her first choice to teach this age. Huh. Things are beginning to make sense. MFH got the distinct impression that the principal doesn't like The Boy. That is her right. I know you can't like every child. But, it is not her right to make our son miserable.

We are the first to admit he is not perfect. We know he has a listening problem and a hearing problem. We know he likes to play and tease. We know he can get rough in his play. But he is also very compassionate. He has a big heart. He is a good friend.

He is also very intelligent. They say he has trouble "settling down to the task at hand" but the papers he brings home are perfect. His report card was perfect. I can see erasures where he made a mistake and had to correct it because it wasn't good enough for him. This is not the work of a child that can't settle down to the task at hand.

They asked how we punish him at home for a bad day at school. MFH told her we are finished punishing him at home for what happens at school. It makes us all miserable, and we've had it. She asked us to take hockey away from him, and MFH said absolutely not.

Then MFH told her, "The way I see it, you work for us and the job you are doing with my son is unsatisfactory. Not all kids are formed from the same mold, and yet you insist on treating them all the same. You took recess away from my son for a week, and then punished him when he ran in the classroom. Yes, it was wrong of him, but do see why he did it? He is immune to you. He doesn't care if he gets punished. You have backed him into a corner. I want you to do something to change that. Maybe instead of reinforcing his bad behavior, you could reward him for good behavior. That would be a start."

She called back today. My son's day is now split in two halves. Instead of punishment building upon punishment, his day starts over after lunch with a clean slate. We get a report each day. He gets a sticker for good behavior, and if there are any infractions, she writes what happened and no sticker. He can save the stickers and trade them in for rewards.

Today he got a sticker in the morning, and one warning in the afternoon. He said he tried his hardest to make good choices.

That's a great start.

Hell hasn't frozen over...

but this city has.

Baby, it's cold outside!

Where we came from it was snowy and cold all the time (nine months of winter and three months of bad skiing). We were used to it, and so was everyone else. This is the banana belt of Montana, and not only do these people hate the cold, they can't drive in snow. Nor does the city know what to do with the streets when it snows. What a mess

Anyway it's been awhile since I posted and I'm not dead, just busy.

We signed the papers on our house (but the buyer is waiting on grandma for the down payment), it's year end at both of my jobs (no success at my new year's resolution thus far), and I have a fabulous new closet just for me (MFH transformed that useless little deck off the master bedroom).

Oh! And the posts are set for MFH's new shop. We decided to refinance and invest the proceeds from the sale of our house rather than write a check for the shop, and locked in at the lowest rate in many years as luck would have it.

That is all.

Dear John

I've been meaning to post this for a few days, but got my hands slapped at the burger corp. for being on the internet during business hours. I'm not too concerned about it. I've caught everyone on the internet a time or two, and honestly? I'm too old to lose sleep over losing or keeping a job.

On Sunday night, Hockey Player came home and said he was "being traded" and would be leaving in a day or two, going to Seattle when the deal was done. (Yes, I was doing my Dance of Joy behind his back.) The coach brought in another Canadian, making for three, and there can only be two foreigners on a team in the US. This is the time of the season when coaches start bringing in the ringers for post season play.

Then he proceeded to run amok for the next two days, even more than usual.

He arrived home on Wednesday morning as my alarm went off, and I told MFH "He'll be gone when we come home tonight."

And he was.

He left a note about "the trade" and how he had to leave that day, and he appreciated his time with us blah blah blah. And, he left his suit bag behind. All players are required to show up to the ice in a suit and tie in case they don't suit up for the game. All players on all teams everywhere.

So I did a little investigating on my computer history and saw that he had been on map-quest that day, mapping his route HOME.

Last night we got the rest of the story from the coach. Because of his attitude on and off the ice, and his performance on the ice, he was being reduced to the practice squad and removed from the active roster. He was welcome to stay and practice, and his parents wouldn't let him stay.

Remember my talk with her? Perhaps she, too, is over his behavior.

I was glad to see him go. It's too bad he felt he had to lie to us, though.

Pride goeth before the fall?

We're both the most angry that he didn't say goodbye to The Boy. He was the only member of our household that wasn't fed up with Paul.

We're going to address this fact when we call his parents to see where in Seattle we should send his suit bag.

Logic

The other day we got a sample of toothpaste in the mail. It was addressed to Hockey Player.

"Oh great! My toothpaste came!" he exclaimed when I threw it to him. "I've been out of toothpaste for two weeks so I had to get online and order a free sample!"

He'll spend five bucks on a can of chewing tobacco, but won't spend two dollars to clean his teeth after the fact.

Movin' on up

The Boy starts practice in the next level of hockey tonight, on a team, with real games.

He earned this position. He actually had to spend hours practicing drills and finally take an evaluation test and pass it in order to move up.

Last year, all the kids got to play regardless of skills level. The only prerequisite was age and that was a national regulation. I guess this age of touchy-feely (as MFH refers to "being PC") has rubbed off on me somewhat, because I preferred that. I think boys are innately competitive enough, and we don't need to foster that characteristic by requiring one to be better than another at such an early age. I didn't expect to have to worry about tryouts until a much later time in his life.

In spite of all that, we made a very big deal of his accomplishment and took him to that mouse place for pizza and games to celebrate.

He is the only five year old on a team of six and seven year olds.

When asked how long he's been playing hockey, he replied, "I've been playing hockey most of my life."

Premonition

Our paper is delivered up at the main road. When the weather is nice and it's light outside, I walk up to get the paper in the morning. When it's not, I drive.

Yesterday I got in my car to go get the Sunday paper.

And I backed right into the closed garage door.

My mind immediately went "F&%$!!!!!"

I tried to remember opening the garage door.

Just a few days ago I remember thinking, "I wonder how many people have driven into their garage doors?" I don't know why, I just wondered. It's probably sleep deprivation more than anything, with two jobs, two dogs who wake me up to go out every night, a kitten who purrs in my ear all night, and a sick kid who had me up two nights last week. But you have to wonder about your mind messing with you that way.

I pulled forward and trudged upstairs to wake MFH and break the good news to him. He told me to go have a cup of coffee, got up and showered, and bent the garage door into a working order until we can have it fixed or replaced.

Didn't he handle that well????

Oh Christmas Tree

My Christmas tree is still standing. If I had my way, I'd leave it up all year long. Not much makes me happier than a tree with lights.

MFH wouldn't hear of it. He's one that doesn't want any sign of Christmas until the day after Thanksgiving.

Proof that opposites attract.

Every year I buy an ornament that siginifies something The Boy is "into" that year. One year it was P.ower R.angers, one year it was D.arth V.ader. (Thank G-d for H.allmark.) This year we got a miniature x box controller.

I know, I know. He loves video games and we do limit his time on the machine. But you should see him play. He gets into it. He can't just sit - he moves around and interacts with the screen.

I also add an ornament if something special happened that year like when he rode the P.olar E.xpress, and I always buy one that I can put his picture in.

When I see decorated trees in stores I am often envious of them. I love the look of those elegant "theme" trees.

And then I realize I'm creating my own theme tree. One day the entire tree will be decorated with nothing but memories for The Boy.

I may be able to talk MFH into leaving that tree up permanently.

Dick Magnet

I was approached by a man while in the candy aisle at W.almart with The Boy last Sunday.

"How old is he?" he smiled.

"Five."

"You look great for having a baby. You have a very nice body," he purred.

"And I also have a husband, but thank you," I replied.

I had always heard that a man with a baby was a chick magnet, but I never realized it also works the other way around.

Work ethic

The building I work in was once a correctional facility for young men. There is a picture on a wall of a group of boys and their caretakers. None of them are smiling. I would guess this took place sometime in the 1930s.

My paternal grandparents were caretakers in the 60s at a local juvenile facility. I vividly remember visiting them there many times. The floors were hardwood and we slid around in our stocking feet - and so did the young men who lived there. My grandfather didn't allow them to wear shoes because then they wouldn't run away. I also remember him rolling cigarettes for them and they lined up along the wall and he would flick the smokes to them. The boys would lift my little brother and me up so we could drink from the water fountains.

My co-worker and I were talking about this today. Back then, kids went to work at an early age - in the case of my own parents, it was to help support their families. My mother tells how her father would show up to her work on payday with his hand out and it would make her so angry. My father dropped out of school after eighth grade to go to work. Nobody lived at home after they were able to care for themselves.

Man how the times have changed. Our kids come home after college and don't leave, and we don't seem to mind.

Last night Paul's coach held individual meetings with the members of the team. It seems they held a little protest yesterday at Denny's instead of going to work out at six in the morning.

What would they have to protest, you ask?

Well gee, they work out at 6:00 am, come home by 8:00 to eat and nap all day, and go to the rink at 3:15 in the afternoon to skate. If Paul shows up for dinner, he is here by 5:30.

This group of young men are anywhere from 16 to 21 years old. Obviously the high school aged kids go to class, but there are very few in that age group. Paul is 18.

That is all they do all day, and they protested. It's just too much. Oh - Friday, Saturday and Sunday there is no work out or practice. So really, we're talking four days a week.

Good God.

I fear for our nation when this generation is in charge.

When enough is enough

The hockey program here sucks, from The Boy's league all the way up to the junior program from which we house a player.

It is the one area in which I most regret moving to this city.

When Paul returned home from Christmas break, his parents came with him and stayed a few days. We wouldn't have known he had returned, except for the fact that when we woke up one morning his car was gone. After two days, we called the coach who in turn had Paul call us. I would blame his parents, except I'm sure he lied and told them we knew he was with them.

His mom sat with me at the game one night, and I let her have it with both barrels. After all, if my son was living away from home with another family and was not behaving, I'd want to know. We talked about everything from his wearing filthy clothes, to him showing up at curfew to eat dinner in my clean kitchen, to him having no less than 50 pounds of bottles in his room half of which are filled with the spit from chewing tobacco.

I berated the coach for not supporting the billet parents, for not making the players work or go to school in their off hours from hockey, and for not making them participate in the community and the hockey programs of the younger children.

I may have stepped over the line when I told her I don't appreciate how Paul talks to them on the phone. He is rude and he is a spoiled brat. She didn't appear alarmed at all, and blamed his dad for handing him everything on a silver platter.

Then I told her that the one reason we do this is to have a positive role model for The Boy, and I don't feel we are meeting this with Paul.

We have had four admirable young men live with us.

I have already informed the organization that if Paul returns to play next year, he isn't welcome at our home.

In fact, we may decide we are through housing players period.

If you give him an inch...

he'll take a mile.

The inspection was done on our old house Monday. We know the roof needs attention, that is obvious. The basement windows are not egress - he is a single man and that isn't an issue for him right now. That is all.

Except for the gas hot water heat boiler. The inspector said it has a small leak from a valve. The realtor couldn't see it, and we didn't know of it either.

Buyer wants us to have someone come look at it and repair it if need be.

Um. No.

We lowered the price of the house $10,000 just so you could afford to buy it. The realtor lowered his commission to 3.5 percent so we could pay your closing fees for you without losing any money from the sale of the house.

We've done enough. I'll yank that little buy sell right off the table if that's how you want to play.

Happy New Year!

We party pretty hard up here in our neck of the woods, as you can see by this morning of picture of the pups.....













and The Boy ended up passed out under my desk.

Just kidding, of course. But isn't this a cute picture?

We spent New Year's Eve in the same way the we spend it every year - at a hockey game. After the game, The Boy got to skate for an hour with the players and the rest of the fans (which was comprised mostly of the "puck 'hos" that follow them everywhere they go), so it was a grand night for him.

For those of you that have asked, Itty is doing much better. I wasn't sure he would make it and was happy that he was able to know the love of a family if he didn't, but he is on the mend. I am so thankful that we were able to get him through that.

2007 was a year of change for my family, and I'm still trying to adjust and be happy and not regret the moves that we made. I'm making progress in that direction. It helps that our house will finally be sold this month.

I've never been one to make resolutions, because there hasn't been much about my life that I wanted to change. But, this year I have one.

I resolve to successfully quit my old job.

Welcome, 2008!