Public Service Announcement

There are going to be a lot of questions so I thought I should just blog this.

Our family was in a car accident today at around 2 pm.

We are all fine. Hubby & I have some stiff necks. Princess claims to have no discomfort at all. Lil'T has a couple of bruises on her shins where her father's seat back fell back on her, but no broken bones. That is visiting his aunt, uncle and cousin so he wasn't with us. Our seat belts, booster seat, car seat and especially our sacrificial bumper acted just according to design. We were all spared from serious injury and the bumper crumpled taking at least some of the force away from being inflicted upon us.

Hubby was driving and had come to a complete stop, waiting to turn left into a parking lot. The other driver was distracted momentarily and slammed into the back of our car. There were no skid marks on the road so I think he really just didn't see our mini van and was probably going 35-40 MPH on that road.

A few friends saw us sitting on the side of the road and offered to help. Tammy stopped and gave Princess a soda. Becky stopped to see if we needed anything. We really were all fine, just a little freaked out. The paramedics and police came pretty quick. We were ultimately rescued by Steve & Sharon. They came straight away when we told them what had happened. Steve drove us to the emergency room. We were all medically cleared after about 6 hours there. That was truly above and beyond. I think I may have to repay his kindness with some bacon as I no longer have any Girl Scout Cookies. Hubby's doctor gave him a prescription for yummy opioids, but I just got told to use Motrin. Shucks, I should have gotten a second opinion. I tried to hide that I'm an RN because a lot of times, medical personnel don't give you the same kind of teaching if they assume you know stuff. But I failed at that because the doc was palpating my back and in directing him to where the ouchie was (that is a medical term) I said, "no, more medial." Damn. I wonder if that's why I didn't get the yummy opioids.

There was one funny thing about the accident though. We had just stopped at a local farm and picked up a 1/2 flat of strawberries. Just so you know, these are the funniest looking but sweetest strawberries in the world. I had them in my lap and my husband's colleague from Taiwan, Brian, was sitting in the front seat holding a pint for Hubby and him to share. When the car hit us, poor Brian's strawberries went flying. One got squished on the front of his shirt. The berries on my lap went flying and one dropped behind him so that when all was said and done, Brian had red strawberry juice on the front of his shirt and the back of his shirt. As well as squished strawberry on his leg. The girls and I has a couple of similar splotches, but none as bad as Brian's. When we all stepped out of the car, passers-by, the aid workers and people who were in the park were all a twitter because they thought for sure we were splattered with blood. Especially Brian who looked like he had an entry and exit wound on his shirt. It was just strawberries.

This accident was the cherry on top of Hubby's automotive terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad-weekend. Yesterday, in helping a friend move a big screen television from the Rotary auction (the yearly island wide garage sale), his truck died. Repeatedly. The 6 mile trip took him a good 3 hours to make. Ultimately, he left his truck at the friend's house. We'll be donating it to charity. The gas in it is likely more valuable than the truck itself at this point.

This weekend capped 2 weeks of 16-20 hour work days for Hubby. Including last weekend.

Sometimes life isn't fair.

But at least there are strawberries.

Visiting the cousins

This past Saturday was the Red Egg and Ginger party for my new(ish) nephew Aash*t. He is 6 months old and the sweetest baby on the planet. I'm totally in love with him. He is one of those dream babies. He rarely cries and when he does, he is usually consolable. He has a sweet personality and smiles easily, laughs even easier. The thighs on that boy are so chubby your fingers sink into them, you can't help but squeeze. Oh, I'll miss him. I've heard babies like this referred to as "sucker babies." They're so sweet and precious that you get suckered into having another baby. At which point God or the universe decides to bring down the hammer with a reproduction-activity-ending-baby: a colicky, scrawny, foul tempered spawn that will make you wonder if there is something seriously wrong with your husband's gene pool.

I don't think there is any worry that my brother and sister-in-law (SIL) will get suckered into having another baby. Little Aash*t was a surprise as it was. No, they started with Ashley and Alex, twin girl and boy. Ashley & Alex are 3 years old. I think God decided that my brother needed to have an easy time of it for once after the baptism of fire with twins up front so He gave my brother Aash*t. The twins are not without their charms though.

Ashley was looking for her mother one day. I told her that Mommy was in the bathroom so Ashley waited outside the bathroom door. When my SIL emerged from the bathroom, Ashley asked, "Mommy, where you go?" My SIL said, "I went potty." To which the potty training Ashley said, "Good job, Mommy," and clapped.

That reminds me of the time I was shopping in Safeway with a 2 or 3 year old That. His daddy was lagging behind so That turned around and said, "Come on Big Boy. Come on!"

Alex is the perfect example of a thrill seeking boy. If he's not climbing on something, he's trying desperately to find and press buttons everywhere. I predict that he will be one of those boys who will take apart something just to see how it works. He must be taught what the Great Wizard Gandalf said: "He who breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom." I think that assumes that Alex was on the path of wisdom in the first place. Really, what 3 year old boy ever is on that path? I'm certain my 11 year old hasn't quite found it yet. I think I'll send lots of helmets and other protective equipment for him along with his first skateboard. Considering that they live in concrete San Francisco, there's some seriously gnarly hills to shred. (I know it looks like I'm trying too hard to be hip and cool. I am.)

The twins adored That. I think Alex and That had a special connection. I told That that boys just need time with boy energy. There was an enormous amount of rough play and screeching which was just wonderful to watch. Painful to hear but wonderful to watch. Earplugs would have been a boon.

Lil'T was about 3 inches taller than both of the twins. I think she weighs about 15 pounds more than either of them. I was trying to get them to call her Lil'T because that would just be funny in a Little John of Robin Hood fame kind of way. Lil'T and her cousins bathed together in one big bathtub every evening. Alex typically will stand and pee before he takes a bath. Lil'T was absolutely in awe of this. After one particular bath, she came out of the tub and told me, "I want a boto potty." For my non-pino(a)y readers out there, boto = penis. From what I gather, she was suffering from a major case of penis envy. Specifically, the ability of her cousin to pee while standing up. I totally can understand her pain because I remember having that same kind of envy with my brothers. Totally unfair.

It was good to visit with them and I always leave wishing that they lived closer.

Happy Birthday Uncle Nofre

Uncle Nofre asked that we celebrate his birthday with cake and candles. I think he just wanted the kids to have cake.

Ringtones

Psyche!

When a phone call starts with, "I've got a proposition for you," you've got to be wary. Especially if the caller is your husband and he's at work for some crisis, you've got to be wary. He went on to tell me that there was some essential equipment that he needed so if I brought it (along with the children), I would be treated to a nice dinner on the company's dime. It wasn't too shabby a deal, especially since That has been asking to go to a fancy restaurant for his birthday.

It takes some time to get each child dressed nicely for an evening on the town, especially since 2 of them are girls. I'm just thankful that Princess doesn't wear make-up or I'd have to take a couple of hours to get ready.

We weren't able to get reservations at the place that That had picked out, but Hubby's boss had a favorite restaurant that was a good second choice. They serve high end Italian food. My son didn't want to have Italian food because on Monday, he'll be attending a pizza party for his Knowledge Master team. I suggested he order a risotto or ravioli -- just try something different. This restaurant had nary a pizza in sight. It was very fancy. To give you an idea, when I entered I thought to myself this is not a place that has high chairs. I was right, sort of. The one high chair that was there was in use. Thankfully, after that family was done, we were given the high chair for Lil'T.

That ordered a venison ravioli which was so good he didn't even offer me a taste. The girls had gnocchi which was as close to a kid friendly meal as they could muster. Hubby had penne with salmon and I had the Chilean sea bass. I think I'll have good dreams about that for a long time.

In fancy restaurants, they don't give you a dessert menu. Instead they bring a tray that showcases all the desserts. I think they know that once you lay eyes on those treats, there really is no going back. You must have some. You should have seen the kids' eyes when the server brought out the tray. We all placed our orders and the tray was whisked away by the server for the neighboring table.

Lil'T didn't like that one bit.

There was some whining crescendoing into a full out wail. I did my best to comfort her but I was off my game because it was kind of funny. We tried to explain that our desserts would be coming, that those weren't ours. She was having none of it.

Next time we'll just tell the waiter to leave the tray and to just put together a new one. Showing a kid all those goodies and then taking them away is just mean.

Catchy tune

You know I don't have terribly great taste in music. I like music, but I think I'm not too discerning according to some people.

But I like this one. It's about time we had some good anti-war tunes that we're not borrowing from the generation before us.

I didn't pray for that

I have reached the end of my rope. Actually, I am barely hanging on to a rope. In fact I'm slowly slipping down the surface of whatever it is that comprises my life.

My 11 year old son (turned 11 today) has worn a great big hole in my patience and has my level of unconditional love dangerously low. I'm sure I'm remembering it wrong, but I remember being a pretty good student. Sure, I often procrastinated on some projects, but I eventually did do them even if it meant a couple of late nights. I might have to ask my mother about that. I did pretty well in school and so did my husband. So I don't understand how I'm getting this bachi -- what goes around comes around.

How did I get a son who is so disorganized that he was capable of losing a trombone? A TROMBONE! This isn't some tiny little instrument. This is a big, trip-over-it-when-he-leaves-it-in-the-hallway trombone. It was missing for the last week. He did find it again at school and brought it home yesterday. Shockingly, he's only lost his retainer once. It is a tiny thing but he's never supposed to take it out unless he's eating. You'll never guess where I found it -- his sock drawer. How do you lose a retainer in your sock drawer? Does this even remotely make sense in any universe?

Two months ago, my husband and I made a deal with my son who is perpetually late on his homework. He complained that we were always riding him about it. My husband proposed the deal that we lay off completely. In exchange, if my son manages to do all his work, then great, we all win. If he doesn't, he'd have to do the work when we told him to, no argument. Well, he took us on our word. We did not bother him about his homework. But true to form, he didn't do any of his assignments. *sigh* Do I have sucker written across my forehead in some kind of magical marker that is only visible to kids?

So this morning I called his school counselor for advice. I called to find out if there were some kind of program, summer school or workshops that he could attend that might help with this. As I laid down my woes at her feet, instead of coos of, "oh, you poor thing..." I got raucous laughter. She said, "I don't mean to laugh but I know your story all too well. It's mine too, and my son is 30 years old now."

"Wow! That's great. How great is it to know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel." I was so relieved to know that a child like that could make it to adulthood.

She said, "What's funny is that now he's a pediatrician. If you had told me that when he was 10 years old, I would have fell right over."

We went on to compare notes, laughing in our commiseration.

"As a joke, my husband and I bought him a guitar. We thought that it would be nearly impossible to lose something that large. Now he's a pretty good guitar player."

"Oh," I said laughing, "I expected you to say that he did lose it and then you ended up getting him a cello."

"No, a piano! 'Here, try to lose this!'"

She was impressed that my son had managed to lose the trombone this last week.

She said she wishes she could say that at age 13, a switch goes off and all of a sudden he will start caring about his assignments and his surroundings. But that didn't happen. In her experience, her son ended up making it all the way through school just kind of scraping by with good enough grades, but not the best. When he went to college, when he was out of her home, he stepped up to the plate and really buckled down. Clearly, he's come a long way having earned his medical degree and specializing in pediatrics.

So maybe the gloom I've been feeling over the past few weeks is unfounded. This too shall pass, right?

A couple of nights ago I watched the movie Evan Almighty. There is a scene where God played by Morgan Freeman asks one of the characters, "If you pray for patience, do you think you receive patience or get the opportunity to learn patience?" It was a good line. If I'm honest with myself, I've prayed for patience a boatload of times. So I guess it is my fault in that sense.

Next time I'll be more specific.

It has been a tough decade for me

That is politically. I've consistently chosen the losing candidate for the highest office for the past 8 years. Notice, I didn't say wrong. I said losing.

Can you imagine what the world would be like right now if Gore had taken his rightful place in the White House? What would have happened that day in September that cracked our feeble eggshell of perceived safety had Gore been in the top job? That day it happened, my husband wisely and with prescience said, "We are so angry as a nation. We've got our hand balled up in a fist just looking for somebody to hit." And then we did. Twice. I believe Gore would have hit once -- justly and righteously. But the guy who got the job had another agenda. Now, even his own people speak out against it.

Then in 2004, I thought for sure that John Kerry would be the guy. How could he lose? He was the smart choice. He ran circles around Bush in debates. Hadn't the country had enough? I wept in the car listening to Kerry's concession speech. My husband was shocked at my emotions. I had felt like I was holding my breath since the 2000 election waiting for 2004, when all that was wrong would be put right. When I finally thought I could start breathing again, turns out I had to suck it up again.

And here we are in 2008. This was the time when it was finally going to happen. When Hillary was going to take the White House back and restore sanity at the top. She's seasoned. She's smart. She paid her dues. From the first debate to the last, she's come out swinging and on top. She was strong in the first and strong in the last. But I guess we don't care about debates as a nation. Her inevitability turned into smoke. Again, I chose the losing candidate. This sinking feeling is getting to be quite familiar.

*sigh*

Well, I'm thinking if I'm going to learn anything from this, I had better turn my brain around. I've never been the popular girl in school. I always seemed to go against the crowd. I guess some things never really change. I'm thinking that I should pack it up, decide to campaign for the other side. I'll embrace the Bush administration and its continuation in Senator McCain. Like those Republicans who still believe in Bush (all 27% of them), I'll hold my nose and support McCain. And maybe, if I tell the universe that I'm voting for McCain, I'll continue my losing streak just long enough for the country to be set right.

Camp Songs

Over the weekend, I was really hard pressed to sing to the girls. We did a lot of walking which I am sure would have gone a lot faster had I some songs to keep the marching going. Problem is, I don't know very many camp songs.

I did learn a new one for me called Black Socks.

Black Socks
They never get dirty
The longer you wear them
The blacker they get.

Sometimes
I think I should wash them
But something keeps telling me
"Don't do it yet!"
Not yet,
Not yet,
Not yet.

I actually tried to teach them Show Me the Way to Go Home which was made popular by the movie Jaws.


It didn't really stick. We ended up singing Knick Knack Paddy Wack.

I kind of think that maybe a popular song that I already know would be a better choice. This morning I was listening to the radio and Born To Be Wild came on. Couldn't you just see a group of 7 year old girls singing that? So I'm putting it out to you. If you have any ideas for popular songs that would make good camp songs, put it in the commments. I'll teach it to my Brownies if I can.

Get your motor runnin'
Head out on the highway
Lookin' for adventure
And whatever comes our way
Yeah Darlin' go make it happen
Take the world in a love embrace
Fire all of your guns at once
And explode into space

I like smoke and lightning
Heavy metal thunder
Racin' with the wind
And the feelin' that I'm under
Yeah Darlin' go make it happen
Take the world in a love embrace
Fire all of your guns at once
And explode into space

Like a true nature's child
We were born, born to be wild
We can climb so high
I never wanna die

Born to be wild
Born to be wild

Sleeping outside

Princess had her first encampment this past weekend. I should note that I had my first encampment this past weekend. GIRL SCOUTS ROCKS!!! I can deflect saying the girls had so much fun. They just loved it. While this is true, I must be honest. I HAD AN ABSOLUTE BLAST. There were times when I thought I would cry out of happiness this weekend. And then I thought, what an absolute sap. (I'm not pregnant. I swear I'm not pregnant. At least I don't think I am.) But I loved how empowering it was to be amongst all these girls and young women, and have my faith in the youth of this country emboldened.

The camp allowed all the girls to be able to take risks and feel safe and accepted. I watched two teen aged girls lead some younger girls in singing campfire songs as we waited for the dinner service. These girls were wearing all black. One had a row of safety pins holding her black hoodie shut. They both wore their hair black, long and straight. I think one had hot pink highlights streaked through her hair. The only thing missing was white skin makeup and black lipstick. On the street, I would have judged them as disaffected youth posing as emo or goth. But here, they were 2 Girl Scouts leading camp songs complete with silly hand motions and laughter. And let me tell you, it was all I could do to keep from sobbing. Thank God for sunglasses.

The weekend showcased the industrial spirit of the campers. We saw how capable and helpful even little Daisies can be if allowed to work. Every last one rose to the occasion. Man, I wish I had been allowed to join when I was a kid. There were fun activities all day long -- all run by girls -- teen aged and young adult Girl Scouts. These young women were so put together and confident. I just loved being around them. In them, I could see what my Princess and Lil'T could someday become. That was truly a gift. The encampment was organized and run by a group of 5th grade scouts. Yes, that's right, a group of 10 & 11 year old girls. Every event, every game, the theme of the weekend, was orchestrated by these wonderful girls. They were such great hosts. They engaged with my 5 little Brownies and really made them feel welcome. Heck, all the girls at the camp made my Brownies feel welcome.

We went to the encampment of a neighboring service unit so we didn't know any of the adult leaders save one. We were thanked repeatedly for joining them. I held such gratitude just for being invited to join their encampment. Many of the leaders learned the names of our 5 little brownies before the weekend was over. And looking at some of their numerous patches sewn on the backs of their shirts, I got to see my future too.

I'm am forever grateful to my sweet Princess for getting me into Girl Scouts. Sure, I wish I had joined when I was 7 instead of 37, but better late than never.

I am also forever grateful to my sweet Hubby who bought a $200 camping pad for me to sleep on. OMG. I actually slept last night. I didn't have to do the sausage-on-a-hot-pan roll over all night long. It was as close to heaven as you can get while sleeping outside and being accosted by mosquitoes.

Oh yeah, one more thing. I'm sure I wrote it before.

Hillary was a Girl Scout.