Comfort, Connection, Community

I was stopped in the hall on Tuesday afternoon by Dirk, the German exchange student in my graduate program.

We were standing after a colloquium on board diversity, which revealed data that nonprofit boards in Milwaukee are not so, and need to be more so, and have need age and ethnic diversity.  So, I was about to race home to pick the kids up from generous neighbor's house and was fishing for two dollars to pay the parking which I'd decided was the faster choice to get to the meeting on time (a fallacy)  when he said this. I knew there would be a penalty for having filibustered about my paper on Bob Jones University with him in English - usually I adopt a jocular German persona when hanging with Dirk - use of the ole German undergrad is always fulfilling and painful at the same time.  Anyway, Dirk says:

"SO, Jenny, You are a STAY AT HOME MOM, yes?"

And I felt my heart clench and my lips got more chapped in that moment. I have so little respect for that moniker I don't even always hyphenate it. I felt a little colony of grey hair come directly out of the top of my head like my son's playdough barber shop guy (which as I look is encrusted in the floor from playdate fun yesterday). I felt like they had been making fun of me, the group I'd helped to create, the group that identifies themselves as "young professionals" who "don't want to get burned out because, well, 'We work, you know, so that makes it much harder for us' [to do things]."  Then I thought of my own self in my twenties, thinking the same thing about my step-mother being a total slacker because all she had was five kids, a dog, an exchange student, graduate school, and my dad as a new husband.  I have said before and I'll say it again, I have eaten my own foot many times over this attitude!

So in the moment on Tuesday, to my surprise, I looked at him squarely (one squarish German face to another) and said "YES. AND I drive a minivan. DO you know what that is?" and I toyed with the idea of coercing Dirk to come home with me in that minivan, pick up my kids, show them a "typical American housewife" and kind of persecute Dirk in a weird way. But the deterrent: something rotting in said van that I cannot find....I'm sure it's an apple (damn the picking, damn the fun).  Someone's gettin a kitchen witch this year.

I've been thinking about this definition of SAHM or Housewife, or Homemaker, ever since Tuesday, and I've decided the next time that happens, I will say "YES, AND I like to say I'm a SuperMom, not a hockey mom, not a soccer mom, unless I start playing either of those games myself."  I am a supermom because I am a mom. In addition, I accomplish other things.

I'm particularly proud of the fact that this week I had a rousing law class, finished a small collection of paintings for Gallery Night (Picture Perfect represents me, 320 E Buffalo in the PHDye House building), wrote a paper, and I am looking at two hours to myself today to study for a midterm tonight and hang those paintings and write a paper for stats class. In the meantime, I planned a party with my son and gave him ownership of all the ideas, the location, the style and look of the invitations, and then created them while he slept so that upon coming downstairs today he is really excited mainly that I followed through for him.  Indeed, I should have been reviewing Measures of Dispersion instead of making them come to life on a 4-5 year old level.

For today, I have a warm hug for all the moms who are up with the chickens thinking not of themselves and would like to say thanks. The "little" things we do for our kids that are shiny sparkly unexpected delights make the world a better place. And ok maybe that is political, but I'm all about enjoying the moon and feeling our place amongst the planets, and feeling connected to each other and trying to do good and taking pause to see the grin.

Now to deliver these wacky paintings and crack the books. Oh. After I get the kids to school! And those party thingies in those Thursday bags. Maybe I'll write about about the myth of Sisyphus's MOM.

So there are many "side-effects" of being in graduate school with yes, younger students than I, though I have to say this nonprofit master's program at uwm is gracefully well-distributed I'd say across ages. I also know quite a a few artists, entrepreneurs with small businesses, and adjunct teachers of the arts.

They all have a disturbing thing in common, ...they have no health insurance.

There is a heavily populated club with zero health insurance, mostly boys and men. Women tend to take terrible jobs that have some health insurance, with the specific knowledge they would quit if they could find healthcare elsewhere. Then there are the women who work for Catholic-owned or operated subsidies who don't get birth control covered under their plans, so they seek public health clinics for samples and free prescriptions.

I haven't done my own study within Milwaukee, because I kind of thought the numbers of people without health insurance was a "believable" statistic we get from folks who make the big bucks figuring that out. But I'm thinking...this is a lot of people just in my little circle.  

 As a parent, it lets me know, too, that if I want to know my child is safe, at any age, I need to be prepared to pay (or have them pay, or at least facilitate the arrangement of and deduction for) health insurance for my child until I am no longer capable of talking on the phone or emailing said child to find out if she/he is covered.

The repurcussions of not having health insurance, as I understand them, are huge. We always hear the wrong figure from the government. They talk about the "cost of the uninsured" in the same way the signs proclaiming "Shoplifting steals everybody's money!" do.  What they should mention and don't is, "If you get sick and can't pay for it, it is bigger than just you. We will hunt you and your family down like a dog (or Dogg, the Bounty Hunter) and repossess your assets. Then we will cover your expense and it will cost the taxpayers money."  Less of course than the bailout. 

I hear lots of people say that if healthcare were national, after a few years we would save, as a nation and as citizens, lots of money.

I hear the exchange student from Germany talk about the healthcare plan that covers him while he's a graduate student - it was hard even to get the idea across that he would need to pay for his own healthcare if he wanted to be able to go to the hospital or see a doctor for a cold.
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For now, I make this point. There is a sea of uninsured people living among us, my little family would be in the same situation if we didn't take out a loan to cover the cobra (extended coverage after a job loss) payments.  It is a huge liability for families to have a member of the family out there in the world "roughing it" for a while, because if he/she God forbid gets hurt, it could be a devastating occurrence.

What has caused me to check in at this juncture is that someone who has my same make and model of minivan is now sporting a rather startling MCCAIN sticker in their rear back window. I'm pretty sure the owner of that minivan will not be reading my post (for various reasons, the reading requirement being up there), but now I feel compelled to sport an OBAMA bumper sticker only I don't know what happened to the one we had. If anyone has one, you should put it on your car, but if you're not going to, please send it to me. I will put it on my car, EVEN THOUGH I don't really know how to get them off successfully without residue, which is why I'm pretty sure you're not putting it on your car. I do know said minivan owner put it on the back glass, which I figure is a tactic to enable removal, so that's what I will do too. The Michigan sticker on the opposite side already tells me there's trouble, but this sends me over the top.

In other news, around town, on the St. Robert's Church sign, in large letters, it says "OCTOBER IS Respect for Life Month!"   Umm. I have questions. Is this not a way to remind Catholics that this issue defines how they should be voting, as in GOOD CATHOLICS Don't Vote to Support CHOICE, therefore Catholics, know your PLACE and vote for McCain?  Seems pret-ty clear to me.  If a Catholic votes for choice, by not voting for NOT choice, he/she is not a Catholic in good standing.  I feel this issue, and I squint when I walk past the buildings and I think ... are there any democrats who are Catholic in this town, and if so, how do they reconcile this issue?  Maybe they choose not to think about it. They like the community of the church, and the warmth, and the belonging, and the singing, but not the principles? I don't want to deny anyone their right to have a nice church experience and believe faith runs deeper than church politics by far.   But by pronouncing it on the sign and making it "Catholics = Right to Life" month, St. Robert's church is sporting a Big Giant MCCAIN sign itself, and that's the tip of the iceberg. 

Just imagine if there were a Unitarian church with a big "REMEMBER October is RIGHT TO CHOOSE Month"  ... some whisteblower would call the attorney general and they'd be on the news for violating political/church boundaries.

Was last October "Celebrate LIFE!" month? I doubt it - it wasn't election season last year...
Somebody please tell me I'm wrong on this.  If Catholics are by definition Republicans because Republicans represent the End of Women's Right to Choose, then a Catholic must accept the other components of the Republican party, regardless of how they may feel about them, in order to be a good Catholic.  I have in-laws who would never admit this, but I know this to be how they feel. The Pope, in pushing the anti abortion issue, is forcing Catholics to vote for McCain or be bad Catholics, which when taken to the letter means no communion, no church, and basically excommunication from the church.

Meanwhile, the Episcopalians in Pittsburgh are seceding from the church because they have made a gay man a priest and women aren't far behind. I love that they're fighting over the money and assets now.  Seems if you want to leave the church, you have to leave the stuff too.

OK, so I'm in a little bit of shock. I feel like possibly my little family here has lost its 401K, I'm not sure, I have no idea what's going on, and I feel like I should really know these things. At the same time, all this Sarah Palin stuff makes me nervous. It puts me at odds with myself. Busy mom, trying to take on bigger things than just PTO gigs...on the other hand, I feel like maybe Dick Cheney had himself robo-ized and that's really him in there - maybe that's why the eyes look so weird? And she's a monster. She's like the 5th Element for the GoP, and it's so freaky and weird I feel like I ate one of those cold-eeze tablets in my brain.

But the thing that really irks me now is the democratic party, from candidate to small organizations that have my email address and phone number.

If I get one more email from them or someone relating to them I will just feel even worse. I won't do anything, what is there to do? I won't say anything to anyone who has any control over that stuff, because they don't really care about what I have to say or there'd be some way to Reply To the message. All they want is my money. It's like my stats professor who doesn't learn anyone's name in the class, doesn't make eye contact, barks the whole time through all the materially equally loud, and then ends class. 

I feel like these nickel and dimey emails wanting more and more nondeductible small contributions from me are both exhausting supporters and is causing a Kerry- Effect.  Dissappointment in our party, our candidate, and a general sadness that usually presents itself on dem's faces when contemplating which, if any, apples to buy that day at the grocery store. It's a pervasive bummer, and I wish it would stop,  We need a candidate to say something, not this ridiculous urgent nonstop panic attack, made worse by the other people emailing me in the name of Obama.  McCain is positioning himself as the candidate of less stress, which is a powerful vacuum. Thinking hurts, granted, I'll not vote for McCain as I would rather stop the insanity in America of devaluing education and interpersonal skills in the White House, but I'm just saying, people are really wanting a good night's sleep, a nice comfort of some kind.  Being reminded throughout my day in email the end is nigh unless I send $10 is not the way.

P.S. The fact that the McCain people are secretly causing an absentee ballot campaign strategically emailed to democrats is disgusting. Apparently, if you have moved, they have you on a list, and are soliciting you to actually vote in the WRONG PLACE, hence your vote is not legal and will be discounted. It's like the police brigade in Florida from last time. I'm so tired of this, it makes me want to cry.

Luckily for me there is coffee, and urgent needs of my children, and bills to pay. 

As the low din of Harleys soothes the addled, paperwork infused, sitting-at-the-dining-room-table with cold coffee cup parents and caregivers of our nation's finest crop of kids yet, I have a chance to reflect upon this moment.

First, though, let me say the Harley thing .. is really neat. Driving amongst the masses on motorcycles though is a little like trying to dodge mating frogs in Springtime - they're vulnerable, they're on the road, and their minds are on Other Things.  That said, it's interesting and I feel proud to be a Milwaukeean. We draw the people who are staring death in the face, and it feels tough.  As I drive my minivan to buy unneccessary Spider Man items from the dollar spot, I'm allowed to pretend, for a minute, that I've thrown caution to the wind and am riding a Harley on some kind of odd virtual tour. I would have bought a Harley bandana if I thought for a second I could have parked and navigated the kids around without wishing I hadn't.

The logo for the Harley anniversary reminds me of the Jesus Christ Superstar album cover, though.Every time I see it I think we are having a massive tribute to the musical.

The last few days have been a flurry of activity, mostly in my head, but we've walked up and down Capitol and Oakland quite a bit so I thought, since we're NOT on a Harley (nice seque, hm?), let's take a virtual walk to a few random places in Shorewood - if you didn't make it to town this summer, here's what is happening as of August 28, 2008:

The post office - the single most difficult building to manage with a stroller - is exactly the same. OK, they have a ramp, thank goodness. Smell, signage, and broken copier. They are usually out of most current stamps, and have no automation for packages. They do have a stamp machine which is fun if you have small change to the tune of $5.40 or more and are at your wits' end with the kids.

The high school - big activity happening on the field - new astroturf is quite bright and shiny, though from the street it all still looks unfinished.

Coming up to the intersection - crazed looking crossing guard has a loose handle on the oddly ineffective walk signs and push buttons. Somehow manage to cross street intact and before light changes. 

Further East on Capitol...to the bike store that is new - is happily changing its tune-up ability to be accessible to the average (i.e. not loaded) member of the community. They repaired the popped inner tube on our stroller wheel, parts and labor, $10. Can't complain - I didn't have to drive anywhere and they accommodated Henry's inquisitive ways in the shop as well.  Talk to them about whether THEY think there should be a bike lane on Capitol. Very thoughtful replies, and I believe them. I hadn't thought about the access causing a narrowing of the sidewalks, but they're right to say this is a walking community, and this is the main thoroughfare, and is rather full already.

The new smoothie place...Smoothie Nation...I'm afraid to go in there. It's dark, spooky, and doesn't give me the impression anything is fresh or moderately priced. I never see kids in there, which makes me second that.

Crossing the street, there it is.

The City Market.

A heartless beacon of hope.  It can be relaxing, which is why we all fall for it. Parts of the experience are nice.  The staff could care less if you're there or not.  You will be providing more for yourself than you do at home. Conversely, it is a breath of fresh air and a nice personal gift if it falls on that side of chance.  For this one you need to weigh your options.  If you are decked out in your summer's finest, having lost those 50 pounds, gotten ripped upper arms, and are having a good hair day, by all means, go! Gather up a few friends, get a sitter, and have a nice fancy salad and get a nice refreshing iced tea. Remember, that's a normal price for people having lunch at work, and if you're not working, well, that's ok. Pretend this is another city and this is your staycation.  Your son's new teacher, your friend's mom and friend, and probably a tennis pro from a club you don't belong to will all be there supping on soup and half san. 

For the rest of us, esp moms of little ones...bent in that stroller pose thinking it's going to be a brief respite from the whining and the stooping and the getting: Think Again. It's not a break - you might absorb some caffeine and briefly stare at a different paint color from your house (if you go to the bathroom, which you can't really, with the kids and all), but it is far from relaxing.  It IS a place where the 5 year old can go potty by themselves.   Mom takes kids there, kids go crazy, kids eat nothing but sweets, mom makes fifteen trips for napkins, forks, straw, another straw that "works" for son to blow paper off, butter, jelly, water, water with ice, water with no ice, water with a lemon, water without lemon..gulps own coffee, regrets paying for refills when she won't get any anyway,...and packs up stroller and has headache to go with the bill.  You will end up wishing your stroller came with a shopvac attachment and an epi pen filled with narcotics.

Back to the housework, the sorting and finding of both gym shoes for the boy. Cheers to all as we celebrate the end of sleepy loungy kids and being able to get out of wearing normal clothes!

This is exciting. I'm pleased to mention the all-are-invited, open party at the beach on Saturday!!  The guest list isn't limited (which, as a Shorewood resident, is rare in that hoity wanna-be land of closed parties in shielded Lakefront yards that have "Our economy is not your economy" seemingly written all over them)... it's free, and it SEEMS to me to be a little ... dare I say... carefree and fun?

It also seems well planned. Well-timed. And well-executed!! The Friends of the Atwater Beach folks are throwing a party. Granted, it is a fundraiser to generate private funds to help make the beach nice.  I don't share the rather shrill call to action I heard last night of "It's an EMBARRASSMENT to Shorewood! An EMBARRASSMENT! Have you SEEN it?!?!?! It's HORRIBLE!!" and maybe, if I lived across the street, I'd be excited to have the village rally round and fix up my front yard too...but,  because I happen to feel the disappearance of Latin and German instruction from the high school curriculum (what is next) to be worse, we all have our "OH MY GOD" topics, don't we? BUT whatever the motivator, for now I'm pleased there's a fun party without a price per head. What they do with the money earned on bags and food and such, I hope there is as much taste in designing the village sandbox as there was in planning the vendors (Alterra and Lakefront Brewery - hear hear! Local Shorewood owned and wonderful!) and a sense, hopefully, that it is part of a shoreline that continues South and North, and that it doesn't naievely set up something requiring undoable maintenance or safety patrol (hello Extreme Makeover, Home Edition).

Anyway, back to the party. There are bands! And a real bonfire! And ... catered food? And alcoholic beverages? WOW!!! This will be fun, this will be community at the precipice, at the height of potential to see what will happen next. An exciting moment - and hopefully attended by all walks and not just the ones with the short walk from home to the beach.  I mean, I'm planning on going, so the geek, not-measuring-self-worth-by-weightloss and looks factor will be represented!

And what blog of mine would be complete without a shout-out to SHS Alums! There are two reunions this weekend! Class of '83 and Class of '78! Welcome home! Hope to see YOU at the bonfire beach party on Saturday!!

One alum, Renee Herzing, Class of '86, will be performing with her band, Hell on Heels, from 5:30-7pm! There are other bands playing too - including Houndstooth - (in our vernacular, it's Grace's Dad, JD's band!).  And who can forget for a second that Alterra was started by the brothers Fowler - a great Shorewood success story of two brothers from Shorewood who've moved back and a partner who is raising his kids here now, too. Though the brothers Fowler attended the M-word high school, perhaps they'll feel more community connection and let the kids be educated here in Shorewood. The district I'm sure would be happy to keep more kids enrolled, and such nice ones at that.

 
Then a big bonfire on the beach at night. I think it was a student council thing, a kind of warm-up-to-the-school-year.  Or it was at the end. Or both.  C'mon, I was only there 3 years. Anyway I have a vivid memory of Rebholz leading this team of kids dragging giant wood palettes to the bluff and hurling them off, wearing big gloves to avoid massive splinters, and building a giant a-frame fire for later that night.? Anybody? Some history? That was the 80's. I think life down there was more raucous earlier than that- I've heard tell high school bands used to play on the roof of the building that was there.

The group has a nice website: http://www.friendsatwaterbeach.org/ 

See you Saturday!!

OK so I was totally p.o.'d at the Village when TMJ4 did that expose called "And YOU PAID FOR IT, Shorewood!" about the new construction all up and down Oakland Avenue.  I even proudly went on official record in a meeting saying that I and other taxpayers I knew were tired of being TOLD what was going to be done and then told to "Suck It."  The issue on the news was that the new streetscaping around each tree causes anyone parking a car (not an SUV or truck) there will scrape/hit their door, and the passenger may or may not be able to even get out there.  Well, it's true. And the fact that the village manager was on TV looking like it hadn't occurred to him that the expense of fixing that after allll the trees along Oakland in Shorewood were "curbed" was gonna be a lot was, well, a little distracting. 

But, then I went to Bayshore. Has anyone else noticed that Shorewood has been "Bayshorized?"  The pavers, the corners, even those tree "curbs" here in Shorewood are pret-ty identical to our friends' in Glendale.  Seems that would have been a nice retort for Mr. News Guy on Channel 4 who seemed to be a little bit out for blood.  But..maybe would have been nice for the district to be told (huh? communicate?).  It has helped me to think the Oakland redesign is going to be ok..because it has worked at Bayshore [a pretend village, and private venture], but I think the one key difference is that the curb-design tree planters there are about 1.5 inches further away from cars, and are spaced according to the drawn parking spaces so as not to align with one's door. Thoughts?

ADDENDUM:

I have since gone out there myself, and YES it's true, ya CAN'T open a door more than a few inches. I got private feedback with a GREAT suggestion. Restripe parking spaces to avoid the planters.

AND - who IS responsible? The village seems chopped into committees that do not intersect each other at any point. WOULD LIKE TO SEE THE VILLAGE RESPOND TO THE PROBLEM PLEASE. 

Now at the end of the Fourth of July weekend, I feel kind of bad I didn't pay more attention to my husband who was busy tuning out the crazy mother-daughter dialogue all weekend long. But in my defense, this was rough. Granted, I was able to get in the line (which is his favorite) "Your predilection for playing Marlene Dietrich for fundraisers is peculiar," I was busy defending myself, or rather, being aghast at the level and number of slams my little boat suffered in three measly days.  I finished my final on Wednesday, picked up my mom on Thursday, and just this evening started to pull my shoulders out of my ears. Apparently, and you may know this about me already, I'm not very deep spiritually, my 4 1/2 year old son is "manipulative and a liar," my 1 1/2 year old girl "sure got my butt, but who does she look like? Her face is so pretty"...I have giant feet, "those shoes can't Possibly Fit You...they're HUGE,"  the profile of a pregnant woman "I've GOT it - you're pregnant! That makes your body shape make so much more sense" , hair in need of brushing (as well as teeth) "Oh Jenny, you really need some time for yourself, don't you?"  better toes, nicer lip gloss, better fitting pants, the entire family needs a shower, my house needs to be on Clean Sweep and I need to establish formal dinner times and make sure my children eat more vegetables. And that was day 1.

And I'm feeling old, and wary. Wary because of this spate of thefts from people's window screens that is our only way to get air through the stuffy house. Now we have to lock up and sweat it out. Sad. Wary because in the last three days my sense of self has been undermined and I am left clutching the dirt in my home town, hoping for some sense of history here, though different people live in my old house that my mother doesn't want to go by because "those days are so godawful to think about." Those days being my life.

Sigh. I'm a little overwhelmed. Shorewood did its job for me though this weekend, from the Harper Valley parade and ice cream at the end of the route, to the fireworks, and I was snapped back to feeling home with the great outpouring of community.  Granted, after the parade I faced the sea of rather irate folks about all manner of things, but was able to catch a nap before the evening.   I got to sit with my son in my lap and watch a very impressive display of fireworks from so close! The best part was walking home - realizing that for the first time in my life I really understand and got it that wow, we live where the cool fireworks are, and people come from (and I mean seriously drive) from all over to watch them.  I can't believe I'm old enough to be the mom, the mom that lives in a house, in a house in a suburb that has good fireworks. I'm not sure what that psychological phenomenon is called but I had a beer in the front lawn to celebrate being old enough to drink a beer on my front lawn, and hear the strange patter of folks finding their cars on my street and enjoying the wave of foreignness and remembering when this block was new to me, too.

 It made me think of a collaborative art project for the village, called "On this Spot" where people would associate random things that happened on a few pre-determined intersections or locations in Shorewood. Maybe it could be anonymous - like signpost drop boxes with little notepads and pencils...or high tech  - like on the shorewoodnow site.  Off hand I can't think of anything I'd like to admit on any particular patch of high school front lawn or anything else, but I didn't know if this thought intrigued anyone else?

 Moving on - I've got homework to do (as always!).

Good night, and happy Independence everyone!
 

I am an only child. And I have a sister.  To be specific, a half-sister. Which means, on my dad's side side of my family I have a sister. And on my mom's side, I'm an only child. And as much as I like to think that I'm really a co-parent of a seventeen year-old half sister, really, we're sisters. And as soon as I can come to terms with that, the better. So say I and the self-shrinkage that is going on here, but hopefully this will help someone else to realize that it's ok to feel completely schizophrenic with regards to roles when generations are being blurred more and more, and there are half-things out there that feel whole sometimes, and nonexistent other times.

Let me start at the beginning of the story. My parents divorced about 18 years ago. My dad had a baby with the woman he walked out of "our" door and into the next house with. She is otherwise known as "the second wife" or "my sister's mom."  Both terms left me feeling very angry for having to utter them. I, after all, did not leave anyone or hurt anyone. Why should I have to use such echhhy vocabulary?   I left town soon-after.   Book rights not for sale, I'm writing this one myself, but not here (ah yes, you're spared). But yes, this does go on in Shorewood, and men are truly a protected species as no one so much as bats an eye when ... organizational change is affected...as far as I'm concerned.  In sum, I took the high road - embracing my dad's new rather large family (the new wife had four kids already), giving them advice for navigating the Shorewood Schools, taking care of baby, helping my mom readjust and move to another series of homes in Shorewood, and generally being emotionally and physically available to all the players.

So I did what any other self-respecting 21 year old would do....

I moved to Chicago.

But now I'm back, and part of being back in Shorewood is really facing my issues. First of all, it was hard to find a house that wasn't on the same block as a past home of either household.  I think I have classmates who had similar family shifts and "change agents" affecting some new developments.  It's hard stuff, but as a parent now, I realize it's imperative that I understand my most murky and painful issues, because really they are based on expectations that I will be a perfect mother, and that whatever I suffered as a child is irrevocably so horrid that can never be redressed.  However. My parents have moved away, and that baby is now 17, here for a visit.  When my sister holds my baby and at the same playgrounds I took her to as a baby, people ask HER how old her baby is, instead of when it was me holding her. I get seriously verklemmt (and hey, I was a German major, so I use the term still).  And, just like I did, she shrugs, and says "Bout a year I think?" and people recoil in horror. And I can honestly say there, there is a glimmer of humor in this otherwise hard to digest emotional pill.  So here's what I realized. She's not some constant reminder of my life as a "first marriage offspring" or That's-When-Life-Went-Nuts moment. She is my sister. At least as long as my mom and I aren't concerned.  I didn't say I was done here, but I'm easing off a long-time hang-up about parenting my Dad's daughter instead of just hanging out with my sister.

She is finally old enough to tell me to stop calling him by his first name when we discuss him,...he is our DAD. And I'm able to now tell her that my children generally address me as MOM, and not Jenny. It's funny having to rearticulate what is a given in many families, but I think we're both, my sister and I, on the front lines now and realize that it's up to us to either fix this stuff or have insincere experiences, which we're too in need of real family times to do.

So here's a toast of stale yet chilled crappy white zinfandel - here's to you children of the first marriage, who've sucked it up and been there for parents who took you for granted, and you grew a bitter side that is darker than anyone would suspect. This is for you, in hopes that at some point, you can hang out with your "siblings" and you can tell them "You know, I really feel left out of Dad's life" and they can say "Oh PUHleeze, are you kidding? You know how he does this and that, and .." and suddenly, you have a sister, or a brother, and you can actually coexist without a giant lump in your throat.  Happy Summer Wedding Season!  I'm outta here - my sister's watching my kids for an hour.

 

Happy Father's Day, Happy How-am-I-supposed-to-properly-clean-up-water-from-the-basement-day, Happy This-Isn't-What-I-Was-Going-To-Do-Today, Happy I'm-So-Behind-In-My-Work day!

A brief outlook of Shorewood from the Jennycam today (shout out to all who are not in Shorewood at the moment):

The chicken barbeque was yesterday...looked to be a success...except that it ended in a severe thunderstorm warning and there were some viscious lightning bolts that hit metal things and we could hear it - like daggers seriously being hurled by an irate Zeus. NO MORE CHICKENS. Whatever, ours gave me a little stomach ache so I'm glad I didn't really have much. It's a beautiful sunny day here and the birds outside finally seem relaxed. They've been freaking out with all these pending storms..my guess is some of them are probably even hoarse! In bird-equivalent of course.

 I'm determined to be positive today - my husband deserves it.  Why is that so hard? Ya'd think now that we've "made it" and live in Shorewood, have a nice home for our kids that is full of life, I'd be able to act like that twenty-something sort of dating behavior that's always a little tipsy seeming when I encounter it on campus.  But lo and behold, motherhood is deeply sobering and actually requires more on-the-spot reaction and delegation than that other, more attractive relaxed and mildly out-of-it personality affords.

Back to being positive. I'm going to list out all the projects due tomorrow and try to forget them for the time being.  We have a brunch to find, and some hazmat materials to collect before tromping down to the basement to inhale some spores or something tasty.

What has suprised me with all this rain and having water be the new locust is the lack of warnings about dealing basement water of questionable origin. Still haven't been able to find a website that is not selling a product at the end, for tips on avoiding hepatitis among other things. We had a landlord in Chicago who, although a nutty buddy, always swore she got hep (A?B? those letters...they always play tricks on me) from cleaning a basement after water got in.

Granted, we didn't get much water, but we hardly have an empty basement either.  It's all relative!

So speaking of relatives, have a happy father's day all you dads trying to smile through the drudgery of icky work, and wear gloves!

I have to run - baby is crying her head off, and I have some pants to wrap. No time like the present.

I have just recovered from the stomach flu. For some, that isn't a big deal. But for me, somehow, it was. As I watched my children getting out of control as I stood, bent over a torn Whole Foods bag losing yesterday's lunch, I thought, Oh God, I'm too Old and Decrepit already to be starting this breeding thing.  Doesn't anyone care that mommy is sick? Huh? Hello? Tossing cookies here...oh well. Too young I guess. It will be a new milestone for me to mark in their respective baby/toddler books...the time when they will Care when mommy is down and try to do something. Hopefully it won't have to be at high school graduation (or college? Beyond?). Anyway, enough about me.

Now I'm better. Phew. But it reminded me, again, how fragile life is - not just the precious little ones who toddle too close to the steps or street or neighborhood schizophrenic man (sorry, John)...but Moms. And Dads. When that plane flew over so low I could touch it last Thursday apparently spraying for gypsy moths (WHAT?? by the way?? Could I just charter a plane and spray glitter if I wanted to?) it reminded me again that whoa, people are sensitive and we should take good care, all of us.  When that guy attempted suicide by driving over the bluff here in Shorewood on Tuesday, and it made the hair on the back of many necks stand up for a sec, that was a reminder too. And it was freaky as all heck.

I have been getting down on myself for not being a better domestic caretaker. Granted, Henry and I made an awesome from-scratch board game today while Helen slept in her hommus, but my house, and my person, are not svelte or pretty. I had another sighting of a high school alumnus - Louisa Kamps - who had the telltale "Gate-Check" tag on her stroller and was walking With Purpose (isn't there a nice little French phrase for that?) up Capitol towards what I assumed was/is her parents house. She had on the same earrings I remember her wearing in high school, same tall skinnnnny legs, thick brown ponytail, and gaze that was both here and a million places.  Her son looked about 3 and content yet in full discussion about things. I drove past, sliding down in my seat feeling like I was a changeling - a person having flashbacks and also who is very much in the present and is delayed in finishing her homework for the week. Yes, folks, I'm in grad school, and proud of it, some days, and taking three classes if I can get it together to even sign up (maybe that's a bad sign that I can't even get that accomplished) for all 3...but I'm no editor at Vogue or whatever. I am the one who gets accosted in my driveway about some group rummage sale in a week that is beyond my comprehension except that I could be ready for one at any moment.  That is a reality TV show I would WIN. 

There is a new presence for Shorewood High School Alumni Group on Facebook. Join in. It's hilarious and completely nonlinear and getting bigger by the day. 

The other news is I'm seriously contemplating a paper mache fruit and vegetable garden for this year, as I seem to have missed the deadline for raising my own crops from seed. As my husband pointed out, All things are raised from seed, just not by us, but still, it's the principal of the thing. So I may just make it a green/recycling project and papier-mache my way to full-blown, county-fair-winning sized melons and such Prematurely, just to reward onlookers with a farce. I would do this, but I'm hampered by the knowledge that the last time I made a bunch of animals to attach to my Madison cow (long story - you can google that if you are curious), the mice thought it was Old Country Buffet and wouldn't release them even when I picked 'em up and shook them. So now I hang my creations on the line (and, since laundry's at an impasse, I might as well), and let the squirrels and birds fight over my apparently tasty (and all-you-can-eat) concoctions!

See you round the village, in my nonseasonal but at least not fearing death nor or gypsy-moth-spraying orange!
 

Sources for Sitters: ethics and tribulations for finding a babysitter on craigslist, facebook, or the neighborhood

A lofty goal, this title, but I'm determined to find answers to my latest quest into interdependence in society. 

Taking a class or going into an endeavor with a schedule requires an acceptance that Mom is going to be Away. This seems logical, simple even. I've tried to deny the fact that it takes resources outside of course fees or what's on paper to make this happen. And so, I'm going to have to embrace the fact that I will incur not only the expense of the class and books (which I deny up until the first assignment is due usually and then panic), but of the time to prep and write papers and midterms and finals (read=middle of the night=higher coffee and frozen pizza expense),(carryover effect=which makes for a tired mom who sits and eats handfuls of dry FrootLoops during Memorial Day Weekend instead of being plucky and planning a fun picnic or vigil or parade entry), and also of a babysitter to watch the kids when I ACTUALLY go to CLASS. Given that Steve gets home from work about 7:30pm weekdays, evening classes cost anywhere from $6-$10 an hour for childcare.

So I thought my babysitter was not coming back.. I figured, OH, this is IT, she's in Love, she's outtahere for the summer (she has one semester left, she has to come back in the fall, right??), I'm doomed. But then, she came back! And so 24 hours after I thought all was lost in that regard, all was back to normal, except now she has a real nursing job and is going to try to fit us in and such. So I'm a little concerned. Anyway, I put an ad on Craigslist to find a new sitter, for the early evenings, to cover my class (I mention this because the UWM Childcare option, would work, except for the fact they close at 6) .

And I got ten responses in an afternoon! WOW. Many qualified people, some nutty folks, ...people should just always be heavier on the spellcheck and lighter on the religious mumbojumbo in my book. So I interviewed two people and have another one scheduled next week.

And then I shot myself in the foot. (speaking of which, the new Cabela's circular in the Journal-Sentinel has pages of gun ads - from shotgun to purse-sized pistol. It isn't hunting season.  It is Memorial Day Weekend. !? Mentally challenging connections there).

Background: I've been obsessing on Facebook this weekend (not so ridiculous - I think it's going to be the solution for alumni relations for Shorewood High School..at least for some! Check out the Shorewood High School Alumni Group on Facebook. It's a totally open cross-class platform for lively discussion and pics and probably some Scramble).

I cross-checked my new sitter options on Facebook. I even invited them be Friends. And now, I can see all their pictures. And I'm afraid I'm going to have to make an ethical decision about one based on her self-representation in facebook. Never mind she's getting a degree in the right field and was very easy going and nice.  I know I would just worry about an underage party girl with a taste for the visually unappealing drunkenness that goes with it...I may just wonder about things at home the way I wouldn't with someone who had the same pics at their disposal but maybe wasn't quite so proud of them and chose not to post them online? I don't know. This is me, the one who made a huge face at the tidy whitey mother of three last week who mentioned that there are a lot of "Nice Parochial Girls" in the neighborhood who love to babysit - it made me kind of throw up in my mouth. Now that I'm faced with a girl who probably does that with some frequency, I feel like I'm stuck in the middle.

My block doesn't exactly have a lot of teens at the ready for sitting.  We have one tween, but she comes with considerable baggage. I think there is also something wrong (?) with me that I don't want so much attention right here at home -- would I have to clean extra hard? Yep.  Someone who comes maybe from a little bit away would maybe not care if they know all of our business.  Anyway, our block has some boys, boys I know at home have to be disciplined about their screen time just like Henry...and I think sure, they'd be fine probably, but what about Helen? It's more multimedia than it looks, having two, and our regular awesome sitter/friend person handles it well because unlike me, she is sporty. She walks, and they go to the park, and when Steve gets home the kids are both ready for bed and happy.

ahh.

That's all we want, right? A little touch of summer, some park fun, and no creepy pics online?

But I feel like I've unleashed the old people to invade the land of lost boys/girls to find their children drinking on Facebook..(omg and drinking with like some kind of tire part and a lot of tubing), and I am sorry! I never thought that'd be me..an employer not hiring someone because of her FaceBook offerings? But if I'm hiring for judgement, already I know there's some lacking there.

See you 'round the village! 

Consider these topics blogged:

Below is a fake Annotated Listing of Blogs composed in the Last Week by yours truly:

1. Great Graduation Gifts  (this blog never occurred - it was big, funny, rather elastic, and now moot mostly. IN SUM: Best College Grad Gift is Lifetime Membership to School's Alumni Association or Union (like UW-Madison - only $55 to join the union while still recent, jumps to $135 then to $250 depending on how long you wait. Lets you drink ad infinitum in the union, go to concerts, stay at Memorial Union, etc)

2. A Complete Trip: I went to Chicago for two days to teach green green green, and came back refreshed and motivated by the potential of 3rd graders to participate in curriculum design, and for me to make more of community connections in schools.  Highlights: waking up and having no idea where I was...no one needing a thing from me...I took the el before fully awake, remembered proximity of platform to track drop...enjoyed coffee and Chicagoans before onslaught of flip-flop Docker dads and grouchy skinny soy latte moms with killer strollers and blobby children.  I was there sans kids as a singleton, and it was uniquely private and productive. Funny how that happens.

3. The Teacher Gift Phenomenon: it happened already and Henry is only 4.   I'm not at liberty to discuss this one for fear of social repercussions. Might go down on my permanent record.  I'm sure you understand. Suffice it to say that, teachers are people too, and have the same closet space as the rest of us.

4. Look, Smell and Feel SHS on the last days of school. Even though I live here, I can't go back in time. What I can do is convey the smell and feel of the school for you! Any places you want me to photograph or smell for you? I will write this blog June 1.

See you 'round the Village! 

First, a bit of tech geeking because it's got me tied in knots.

Mea culpa, folks. I was in charge of sending out the .pdf with the brand spankin new Shorewood High School, Shorewood, Wisconsin Alumni Newsletter and I did so by protecting the names on the list by utilizing the well-known best-kept secret of the bcc, the blind carbon copy. And so, now I realize, many of the bounced back emails are not bad addresses, they just like to get first-class mail! So, what to do, what to do. In hindsight, I would wait a bit, create a "proper" csv and mailing group to send it which hopefully also hides the addresses. I'm sorry folks, I really just wanted to get it out to you asap, before yet another day went by!  It is now available at the school site, too, please have a looksie. There have been a lot of GREAT responses, though, so let's move on!

This flurry of alumni contact got me to thinking. People email to find out about when, what, who, where's the reunion or goings-on site for each graduating alumni class.  There are a lot of commercial websites out there that make things confusing, so soon there will be a website just for SHS Alumni to find pictures and news per class..it just isn't built yet. In the meantime, though, there will be a list of websites on the SHS Alumni Website for every class that has sent something in(send urls to shorewoodconnection@gmail.com) not just reunion year classes.  Thought this would be kind of fun. It's all good, really.  Friends of mine are getting in touch with me after years and years - this should be able to happen to everyone. It's exciting!  I'm also thinking SHS should have some kind of set event in the summer to welcome back everyone - not just reunionites - and have kind of a low-key lunch on the lawn, open up the school, meet the principal and asst principal and superintendent..that kind of thing. It could be longer than the standard 50 minute lunch hour even!  Or maybe the contact info of the Person with the Keys is all anyone needs, for those (like me) who like to believe they are spontaneous and happily random and would like to wander about, stop at Sendik's, pay a ridiculously high amount for tasty chicken salad and Gerolsteiner, and say Hmm, I wonder if the school is open?  A note - check the rec dept. schedule - there are classes all summer during the day already, hint hint. As one friend put it, "I am going to bring my kids and walk around with rose-colored glasses" about Shorewood. Hurrah! Let me work on making sure that they get to see a Shorewood school (or two!). If you have alumni ideas or druthers, the SHS Alumni Association would really like to know (saves us the big $$ on a survey, right?):  Email to shorewoodconnection@gmail.com. 

Here is a resource list of web addresses about Shorewood:

Shorewood High School Alumni Newsletter:Shorewood High School, Shorewood, Wisconsin Alumni Newsletter

Shorewood School System Website that has everything from the lunch menu to the calendar to who's winning the scholarships and what awards the school is winning these days: www.shorewoodschools.org  For a fact sheet and to see nostalgia-evoking simple photos of SHS, SIS, Atwater and Lake Bluff, check out http://www.walkshorewood.com/shoreSchoolsFacts.html.

Shorewood Walking Tour (Order your own snazzy packet through this site (see bottom left icon to order) and there is a detailed Shorewood Map there for your left brain to walk the right down memory lane): http://www.walkshorewood.com/home.html

Today I have to send some late Mother's Day cards. I had the best and coolest intentions about six months ago..If they only knew how busy I've been getting people connected! I guess that doesn't count for moms though.  And it seems to be Birth Week amongst the pregger friends I have..happy birthday to all those May Babes and new and refreshed moms.  Congrats getting it in before the end of school! Makes bdays easier up to about 6th grade.

Time for just a little more coffee..wish me luck on my 50-page final for Monday.

Yours in faithful keeping of the global delivery of the look/touch/feel of Shorewood Village.

Oh and Riverbrook is closed. !?  I was not thinking it was happening so soon!

-See you 'round the village!

I've been living la vida Whale-o lately - going under water for days without breathing in order to finish final papers and presentations...and then surfacing like a big beluuuuga, like today, lurching slowly to the surface and blinking with one big eye and blowing all that ole water out and taking a deeeeep breath. ahh. It's as if I've been away. In truth, I don't know where things are in my house or anywhere. I offered someone a ride home last night and it took forever to find my keys, ..they were actually embedded in a long-opened bag of expired Christmas jelly beans..that's not embarrassing. Anyway, I took the time to dash over to Robert Laurence in Shorewood yesterday to get a haircut...which was a good decision because it was relaxing though I worried the whole time that the car was unlocked or worse that I hadn't shut the car door even..and I didn't see my usual person but a rather new gal named Chanel who was not wearing enough (I sound like a frump, and AM by the way) who started wackily complaining that her texturizing shears had been broken by someone else and no one else had any that worked...as she tried out EACH PAIR on MY HAIR...a little irritating but I was so sleep deprived I just started laughing out loud and she's like "You have to stop moving your head, I can't get these to work" which just made me laugh harder for her idiocy...but the hair looked done, for better or worse, and that effort hopefully was translated into a decent presentation score later in class.I didn't see the kids afterwards - had to run straight to class -- the first they saw the hair was this morning.

Last night's hair: And the baby freaked out and didn't recognize me. !! Horrid!!! I had to hang out behind her and talk and do my normal wacky voices before she was laughing and let me hug her. NUTTY! So I changed my hair to match hers and it went better:

So while I was getting my hair cut, Sarah Rich's mom was getting hers cut (this is what I'm saying, in Shorewood there is one degree of separation), and it looked fabulous by the way, but she mentioned Sarah was IN TOWN and across the street! How cool!  And then there she was, and she looks as you would expect...totally glamorous and friendly with that nightmarishly young dancer bod...(fyi she went to SHS and was in my class '86).  She looks like a supermodel, is a professor of contemporary art history in State College, PA and has a 2.5 year old boy named Daschell.  I should start an alumni sightings list! Let me just say to any alums reading this who don't live in the 53211 area, living here as an adult and parent doesn't feel like it does when you visit. I love running in to people who don't live here, because I can catch a little otherwhere from the interaction and it throws golden energy through my soul like a cleansing breath that feels like fresh Eucalyptus.  "NO NO NO" I say, "it's NOT great here, DON'T feel nostalgic," I say. But I am not sure everyone shouldn't move back and we could have a community of people who know each other well, without having to say anything.  Although I could do without the "You look great for being our age!"  yi. I like a little more age diversity than that!  I remember chuckling at a friend who has stayed here all along and she and her husband refer to people as being in "my class or your class" because the age range of friends and acquaintances in their lives is about the age of my baby...16 months...whom I feel I just recently gave birth to and who is my excuse for not being in babe shape, though I think the only time I was in that good a shape was when I was an exchange student in Germany doing pre-WWII exercise fuer Vernunft and jog/marching through the forest for gym class while Tchernobyl poured toxins into the ether and riding my one-speed with the ancient generator light on the front to get anywhere. But I digress.  I guess the fact that there's a 12-year age difference between me and my husband gives me a little humor about the issue. But I think I was age-curious since long ago, so this is nothing startling. I just like to feel preternaturally young I guess. :) 

So yes, if everyone who came back to visit thought, "Aww, life would be easy living in Harper Valley again", did it, it would be weird. Like with Sarah today...I walked away and almost turned back and asked her to do her silent dance to "Sound of Silence" that she did in 7th grade, with her (in my mind's eye) floor-length hair swooping around and her miming some kind of rope and cutting it. I remember the gold lame jumpsuit she wore to prom (?) and I thought she was SO cool. And here, now, she is, still cool, skinny, funny..and taking care of her mom.  I forget that it's different for all the people I see who come back - they're coming back FOR someone in the family. I don't have anyone like family like that, though I hope to instill it in my own kids.  I know the sacrifice it entails when I tell other people's parents about my own - off in different locations (divorced, yes, but that's old news), succeeding, living new lives.  They're free! They don't have to worry about whether to sell the old house, or go condo, or have me pick up my stuff. I picked it up years ago, along with a lot of theirs, and I store it offsite and pay dearly for it but can't really deal with the fact that those pieces of me that aren't of age yet for that are floating around. I need to know where they are still. It makes me want to go on one of those "Get Rid of It" shows and win them over to keep the stuff. :)  

Anyway, so Sarah, whose mom is still in Shorewood and is one of the loving faces who makes me almost weep with happiness to think someone from "old Shorewood" remembers me and is happy for me and my little brood here now...remembers Helen's name...is happy to see her, etc.  And Sarah...I remember a birthday party of hers...probably 16...and the movie Harold and Maude was playing and I'd never seen it before and I was deeply disturbed and it quickly thereafter became my favorite movie.  So next time I see her maybe you'll already have asked her about that stuff and I'll be issued some kind of blog restraining order by the alumni association, but I think it's kind of cool and required by me to report about things like this. I am seeing it as a little bit of a requirement for tenancy in the Village, just like volunteering and starting to raise money for the schools is as well. Hell, I might have some kind of psychic crossing (or one of us might get a job in a place that actually has a job market) and might move away. So for now, I'm the one who writes what I'd want to read if I were elsewhere and just wanted a little snapshot of Shorewood every once in a while.  I don't write much about those of us alumni who live here. Should I? I would like to write about some famous people who live in Shorewood but no one knows live here. Lois Ehlert, for instance! Others? Let me know!

Otherwise, see you 'round the village! 

Here is a shout out to my mom peeps at milwaukeemoms.com who sponsored a lovely night of appetizers, comaraderie and a Real Play at the Rep this week. ! It was so obvious moms are so not used to being honored that I realized we were all kind of blinking, looking around, our minds racing for something to catch or hold us there. We weren't being needed for anything, we weren't on call. Highly disorienting, I felt like this was the one time in my life that moms were not assembled in order to not only watch our kids and run a fundraiser but check in with each other on registrations, library story hour tips and kid days at the bookstore. Nope, it was just for chatting, having a nice time, and watching a play. I am grateful for the disorientation! I hadn't realized how function-first I'd become, that somehow being with moms is channeled in my brain that it's a work session. I don't think I've parked the car in a "fancy" lot alone since I've had kids.  It's like the husband is the ticket to dropping my shoulders and saying "Ok, now we're having a time together, and I'm Off Duty."  

Despite the similarity to German cleaning ladies being recognized at a party (myself mostly resembling that remark), the thrill of going on a kind of guided field trip without any parts of our families attached to us was unique. I could tell different synapses were firing in my brain that would have been otherwise. Examining the staircases in the Milwaukee Center, heck just figuring out which is the Pabst and which the Rep from inside was helpful for future trips. It's like we were a company of bus drivers brought in to learn the route.  I appreciate the Rep reaching out to moms - they even have a babysitting rebate program that covers part (about an hour) of your sitter at home while you come to a play! I encourage you to check it out - the whole experience is really nice, and not snooty, or old. And when there aren't moms in a whole section, it's probably quiet too! :)

The play we saw was Armadale, which was heavier on plot than acting, it seemed, to a humorous level.  Seeing this production with my mom-glassess as such defined my guest-ness to the rep and was seated with all moms also feeling same (I mean, we're all different, have different careers, interests, etc. but for this night were unified for our responsilibities and forte's as moms), the play's treatment of motherhood and children was ironically chaff and irreverent.  At one point (and if I'm giving anything away here, Spoiler Alert!) the two mothers of the sons of the same name were looking at their pretend infants adoringly, and the next moment the narrator moved them ahead 20 years and the mom actresses blew open the pretend babies into shawls and put them on. Voom, just like that. GASP time in Section Mom! 

It was a lovely time, and clearly this is a group that appreciates being treated to some of the nice things that seem so de rigouer to people without kids. Thank you!
 

Boomerang, Toomerang, Zoomerang: The Dent and the Check and the Karma

What goes around comes around. You can't make this stuff up. Both phrases apply to what I'm about to tell you. I am not even sure how to react, except to think wow, I'm wiser and I no longer feel bad about not being mean or tough or thick-skinned.

Today, the mean dent lady called and left a message. In doing so, she heard my machine, which says the names of the kids (note to self, take that off). Well, this made her kind of snippy... It seems we have kids with identical names (except for 13-yr old Hunter the door-basher, kid's probably from a 1st marriage poor sop)! She recovered, albeit slowly, and went on to explain that she'd put the check in an envelope and left it sticking out of her mailbox, leaving it for the mailman to pick up.  Today, much to her chagrin, "one of the landscapers" (!? to think I bought the poor-me story!) brought in the envelope from a neighbor's yard, and lo and behold the envelope had been torn open and the check stolen. (I'm sure it was missing the gift card from Neroli for the neck massage, too, but I don't think she put that in there in the first place.) She now has a stolen check situation. Is that not bizarre?? So she's writing me a new one, should be here soon.  And now she has to follow-up on the check fraud procedures that I did last week. 

So here I stand, ready to defend the person who weighs the options, goes with the gut, and tries not to upset people for sport. And if you are the kind of person who does not think about leaving people in a happier state than where you found them, I suggest you brace yourself, as it seems your own actions or attitudes may just come around and knock you down.

Hrnghh.

 In other news, I so wish there were drive-throughs for nice things. I got all the way to Bayshore today, for example, and realized my passengers were sleeping. So I went home. There is strength, and then there is the kind of this-better-be-the-last-day-of-that-sale that gets a sleeping 42.5 pound boy out of a carseat in the way back of a minivan while the other one wakes up and starts shrieking.

Needless to say, I let them sleep and came home. But it got me to thinking about my errands that I had to leave undone because even though I had the time and the wherewithall to go to the P.O. and mail a happy package to my dear cousin, I couldn't do it. Now that P.O. at Bayshore comes close to accommodating moms with kids in the car...they have those automated package shipping stations that the one can be within eyeshot and running distance from the car.  However, since it is I believe a federal offense to leave your kids in the car (? Help me out on this?), at what risk does one do that?  I have been in the P.O., I'll admit it, and run out to find a crowd around my vehicle with more than one cell phone drawn and ready.  Anyone who starts offering milk in the drivethrough ("Hello, Walgreen's Drive Thru Pharmacy? It's your business model, I'd like a sex-change operation please") could get me to pay WAY more for it, especially if it came with bread, peanut butter (creamy), a banana with no spots, one Miller Light and a 10 for $10.00 powerbar OR $1 package of Twizzlers. Heaven.

As it is, the only places with drive-thrus are kind of tacky, or not so healthy for eating. I will give McDonald's props for the dollar menu though.  The dollar menu salad can come with this kicky ginger dressing and fancy almonds in a separate package (on my first attempt most ended up under the pedals in the car but I'm getting the hang of it). The $1 hot fudge sundae has nuts on the side. Luxus. It's nice when Citibank calls to make sure someone hasn't stolen my card in order to charge $1.06.

Also, it would be so cool to have the Bayshore Will-Call area for phoned-in requests (a USB cord at Apple Store, a pair of black pants from Boston Store, and maybe the prints from Kiddo Potraits or whatever they're called that are ready for pickup..) get some "ambassadors" on seques to come to my car window and here is a TIP my friend....or even someone at Trader Joe's posted during one hour outside where they will just keep an eye on the kids while you run in for that one odd thing that the middle child (or your own inner child) has to have.  Like the staples: purple box mac 'n cheese, bag of those organic small apples that keep forever, a bottle of red wine, brie, multigrain crackers, and those mini beef tacos. Boom, if you count the time to pee (nice bathrooms), have a taste of whatever's cookin, and slug down a coffee sample, that is no time at all.  Takes longer to get them in the cart!  What would it cost them - $10 for the hour there is someone posted? It could be by invitation maybe. I'd for sure buy more I think if I knew I was alone, and could actually process a thought other than "Where's Milly" and "do you have any other Milly treats because no, my son really hates these organic lollipops."

OK, great,  think I've talked myself in to the wine and cheese part. Am finishing up some coursework tonight, perhaps it would all work itself out with a more "fundraiser attendee" attitude.

A funny thing I've noticed lately amongst me and my neighbors - we have a tendency to fault ourselves for not being "shrewder negotiators" when it comes time to haggle, negotiate, work out a deal, or generally get somethin' that's better than average.  We muddle through, find out what we can, get the job done, and try to move on without too much remorse.  I have a big problem with it. I give my mom total grief if someone does her an bad turn but It's really me, I feel insufficient, I have it so bad I can't concetrate right now.

And yes, I'm still talking about that ding in my car. But it extends to such a life outlook, what I used to use in every German paper in college - Weltanschauung.  As an aside, I think the fancy people doubt themselves a lot less.  I decided on a middle-road solution to the ding.  They are going to pay me $400 towards my $670 quote to fix it.  I feel like karmically, that is fair. Granted, dings happen all the time, and people aren't really, truly expected to write a note and put it under the windshield (though I have to admit, I would (which is why I will never be on "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous"))  Some responders to my query post told me to just Let It Go.  Then again, I was sitting in the car when boy WHAMMED open his SUV door and whaled into the car so hard it made a kind of bullet hole in the door, plus I saw him, so that can't just be "let go" in my book.  Then I talked to the wife, who really was one of those bad, mean girls who read me the riot act and I don't think realized that I have her full information and given the way this life seems to work, indeed I will see her again.  I think if I dug a shallow internet hole I'd find enough evidence that this is her standard operating procedure. Anyway, I'm sure I'll see her again, though of course, I'm sure in some capacity like she's trying to push a cart past me while I'm digging in the back of the stroller for a wipe like an oversized mother duck hunting for lunch in the water, but nevertheless, paths cross.  I consider karma important, even though it seems diametrically opposed to "payment in full," so I thought well, I would like to have a fair and just moral ground from which to approach these people again (ok, in my book I have the moral HIGH ground here, which doesn't make me any less generous or good..)  So they are paying me $400 on a $670 quote.  The funny thing is, though, I did my research on them after I took less than the full amount, and realized they had enough cash at hand to give $8,000 to the Bush campaign in '04...they could afford to fix young Butler's (*not his real name) dent.  But I digress. I was talking about how being a good person makes you eat your own hand off for not being more avidly in pursuit of gain.

My next door neighbor is a nice older man with Alzheimer's setting in. I know his wife deals with it more than any of us do - to me he's affable enough (except when talking about errant trees that "all need to be removed" because of their "behavior" or discussing our property line, which we share, which makes my generally super calm husband hopping mad).  He was a lifelong schoolteacher and sings Helen that song that starts out HEL-en I love to see your FEET-ures and etc etc though I can never remember it even though I consciously think to myself while he's singing, cutting through generations and people and history with his clear and unwavering song. I think sometimes I should go over and record him singing it and make her a movie of it, but I have class tonight, for instance, and about 10 chapters of reading and and and. It's never the right time. Anyone heard of that song? I'm searching for it... Anyway, he totalled his old Volvo station wagon the other day, rearended on the freeway by a truck with a giant boom hanging off the front. Went right through his back windshield crushing the back of the car. Luckily he was driving alone. He said he figured that was that, but it wasn't. Unfortunately, as he is beating himself up now about the insurance, they only got market value for the totalled Volvo, about $1500.  Well, it ran quite well, always start