clickmom

the Jailbait experience

I am really on the fence about the whole Jailbait experience. When I first interviewed him on the phone, I thought he would be perfect for Evan, the guy seemed cool, like I imagine Evan will be, and totally into the water sports which I was sure Evan could master, if only he had the proper instruction. Last year I had heard there was a woman on the lake who gave lessons, but there was something about it that didn't jive with me. I was hoping that Evan, who I often feel is the outsider of the three brothers, would bond with Jailbait and hang out with him, and be a cool dude with him, and just feel good about himself because he was hanging with a cool guy who could be cool along with him.

Well, that was my dream. As usual, the dream didn't pan out. I know what to do for Matt and Josh, but Evan is so much trickier than they are. I can never know how he is going to react to anything. It is always a big surprise to me. Matt took an instant dislike to Jailbait. I think it was partially because Jailbait was too close in age to Matt and also that in real life the Jailbaits of the world would never even look twice at Matt. Matt knows this. Also, Jailbait made some stupid mistakes throughout his baby sitting odyssey here and Matt is pretty intolerant of them, since he would never make those mistakes. I had to remind Jailbait not to play his explicit music in front of the children who sang shocking songs about sex to me one afternoon, I had to ask him over and over not to bring his cursing friends out with the boys on the boat. Jailbait was a little slow on the uptake. He didn't get the whole "he is the responsible adult in this situation" thing. Matt tried to sleep until 12 every day when I would come back and Jailbait would go home.

Evan in a surprising move decided that he needed to form an alliance with Matt and eventually turned on Jailbait too. I was thankful that he chose his brother over a stranger, and also disappointed that he hadn't had the validating experience I was hoping he could have with a kindred suave guy spirit. Luckily, Evan did get the hang of wake boarding, and must have recognized the absolute coolness and beauty of Jailbait because when he is back there, behind the boat gliding and sailing over the wake he imitates Jailbait's postures and attitudes and looks like he just owns the water. This was very much a good thing. At least there is that.

Now, Josh however thinks a babysitter (especially a teenage babysitter) is just about the best treat I can give him and he loved and adored Jailbait from day one. Jailbait treated him like a little buddy and sometimes teased him like a little brother, and Josh ate it up. Josh greeted him eagerly and with enthusiasm each and every day. Jailbait always wore a trademark backwards baseball cap. One day his cap blew off while they were heading home. The next day Jailbait showed up in a different cap and he took Josh in the boat to find the lost one. They managed to find the missing cap and Jailbait put it on Josh's head and told him he could keep it. Josh slept with the cap.

So, all in all, the whole Jailbait was just OK. On a scale of 1 to 10 I couldn't possibly rate it because the bottom line is that I got some deserved time off. I would do it again because I got to exercise and grocery shop without dragging the kids along, and also because I needed the break. I don't often look out for myself, and it was nice having my tiny chunk of time each day. So, there. I'd do it again. Also, seeing Evan behind the boat looking so smooth, so sure of himself and comfortable, it makes my mother heart sing.

secret life of Devil Dog

105 years ago when the first family built a cabin on this island they came to it by boat. It was after all, an island, and the two options to get onto it were by boat or go for a swim. I suppose in the winter one could have walked or skated across the ice. This remained true until about 55 years ago when the then resident, under the cloak of darkness one night, built a gravel causeway from the closest main road to the nearest end of the island. The question arose over the weekend whether or not what we call our island is actually an island or whether it is a peninsula, since technically it is attached on end to the mainland by a sort of isthmus.

When we journey down the causeway towards the road, one side our causeway adjoins the side of our very nice neighbor, Rosebud's, property. I have tried to convince the Devil Dog that there is an electric fence at the end of our driveway off of the island, just as there is at home in the Garden State, in hopes of dashing any ideas that the Devil Dog may have of exploring the neighborhood. I stop each time I am about to take her for a walk and tell her the same command I use at home which indicates it is safe for her to cross the electrified barrier. I think I have Devil Dog fooled. Rosebud, the neighbor at the end of the causeway, but technically not on the other side of the street or across the pretend line of electric fence I have tried to convince the Devil Dog that exists, is a dog lover and happened to lose her 13 year old spaniel this past spring. One day we stopped to chat and she told me that Devil Dog often comes down the causeway to her house in the mornings. If she is not already outside Devil Dog will stand beneath her balcony and bark until she comes out and tosses a stick for her. They play for a while and then Rosebud walks the Devil Dog back down the causeway. I had no idea. What a bad dog-mommy I am. Rosebud asked me not to keep Devil Dog away from her, as she likes being near a dog, and is still greatly missing her own dog. Now I look at the Devil Dog and think to myself, "I have your number you little attention whore."

The other day we took Devil Dog on the boat. We came back around 5 and I noticed that Devil Dog had a swim, and I thought to close her out of the house, lest she hop onto the couch, or worse, an unprotected bed, while still dripping wet. Two hours later I was preparing to serve dinner to both my kids and a couple of neighbor kids when it occurred to me that I had not seen the Devil Dog in 2 hours. The Devil Dog is always under my feet when I am in the kitchen, so I was concerned. I called her and she did not respond. I tried not to panic, served up dinner and told the kids I was going to walk around the property looking for Devil Dog. In the mean time , the other kids mother appeared, heard the story and hopped back into her van, sure that Devil Dog had taken off down the road. I thought this might have been a possibility since she had been in the car earlier when we drove past some local dogs wandering around and she whined to play with them. I thought maybe she did decide to check out the competition.

Rosebud heard me calling for Devil Dog, and immediately ran down here to help me look too. I thought that maybe Devil Dog had a paw stuck in between two rocks, had been attacked by the fox we saw here one night, or maybe even a sasquatch, (we are in the woods people!) maybe she had fallen off a rocky part of the island and didn't know enough to swim around to get back on. With a flashlight I searched the water for signs of her. She was nowhere. I listened to hear if maybe she was whimpering when I called out for her, but nothing. I began to panic, my heart was racing. I circled the house twice, calling and calling and getting more worried by the second. I imagined her hit by a car, ripped to shreds, floating in the lake, and then I saw my truck sitting there and remembered that I told one of the kids to get something out of it after we had gotten off of the boat. I walked over, opened the door and sure enough, Devil Dog bounded out, perfectly fine and refreshed after a two hour back seat nap.

excuses, excuses

It just seems to me that the forces of nature (or my own spazziness, as it may be) are against me doing this triathlon, which, oh my goodness I am going to vomit, by the way happens in 19 more days. Today I had the shocking revelation that I could count on my fingers how many times I had gone swimming to swim the distance I will need to swim on tri day. I realized that all summer there was always something going on that had somehow prevented me from training.

First thing I do this summer is knowingly sit on a broken chair, forget that I am sitting on a broken chair and lean sideways to reach something, when the next thing I know I am on the floor, in that nauseous kind of pain, wondering which hurts more, my wrist or my shoulder. It was my shoulder, slightly torn rotator cuff. Hello chiropractor.

A week later, I try to step off a stone wall (a mere 18 inches high) onto a stone patio, and spazziness strikes again, I am on my knees. Ow. Once again, I fight the urge to pass out and simultaneously vomit from the pain to discover that I have skinned both my knees, one thigh, my palms, and an elbow. Go figure. The knees- they are getting way to old for this. They still haven't forgiven me for that time in college when I tried to ski down that intermediate hill when really the bunny hill was where I belonged, because, when you can't slow down, then why try a hill with a deeper incline, y'know what I mean? So, once I reached the speed of light going down that hill I knew the only way to stop was to fall, so I did, and the knees, they popped. That was the beginning of the end. I haven't sat with my legs crossed since.

Anyway, a few weeks pass after the wall incident and I think I am finally 100% again, with my glass half full attitude I suppose I am healed and can begin to get on with the serious training when Evan, who has no respect for another persons personal space and needs to be physically on top of me to be recognized, jumps beside me (while curiously enough wearing his flippers on his hands), except we are on a water trampoline and he falls into me, scraping the flipper down the inside of my leg, causing me to drop down onto the trampoline writhing in pain, and once again, with the sweats and the almost vomiting. This bruise was so deeply internal that it took 24 hours for it to rise to the surface. When it showed itself it wasn't purple, it was black and it lasted for two weeks. It was tough to walk for a few days with a giant pool of blood clotting deep beneath the surface of my inner knee. And it hurt too. Running was out of the question.

Well, I think to myself, I can always do pilates. Hahahaha. Jinx!! The very next time I go to pilates the pilates teacher incorpoates a new move called THE HYDRANT, if you know a male dog, you can figure this one out. The only rpoblem is, I have a funkyhip, to match my messed up knees, and I do THE HYDRANT, and the next day I wake up with some sort of freaky hip cramp that lasts for three days. I can't ride my bike, I fear drowning in the lake from a cramp, so swimming is out too, and that leaves walking, which, well, I am walking not running, how much walking practice could I possibly need? I do not perform that new pilates move anymore.

Then the weather turns, it is cold, Jailbait comes late on the day I am going to put out (exercise wise), the neighbor kids show up when I am going to leave my kids alone and I have to stay, Evan has to go to the dentist, and then the illness that tried to take me down happens and I can't actually breath for 5 days (still have the residual cough), and now the lake is freezing, and it has been raining and pouring.

Then, I go to the grocery store and trip on the curb outside the store, effectively removing the skin from the outside of my calf area while bruising the inner side of my calf area. This causes me to loose two nights sleep since no sheet or blanket and touch my humongous scrape without waking me up.

Then I lean too far over the stove and hit my head on the oversized (it is from some larger previous stove) exhaust hood. Causing blood to trickle down my forehead and a rather impressive bump. It hurts when my hair moves.

19 days 'til the triathlon and today, I walked 4 miles in the pouring rain because it was too cold to swim (high of 63) and too wet to bike. I wonder how bad the weather has to be before they will actually cancel the tri, not that I am hoping or anything.

he finds inspiration

Josh's Montessori preschool did such great job. He is ready to read. He knows his letter names and sounds and understands how to put them all together. He is on the verge of reading. I am disappointed that the school was so poorly run. If I had confidence that I could get a straight answer from the administration there, I would have liked to have kept him there for another year, or three. But, that was not the case.

That being said, Josh will be going to the (barf) public school this fall for kindergarten. He is very excited since not only does he get to go to his big brother's school, but he also has Evan's kindergarten teacher. (I loved her) I am wanting him to help him keep his edge with the reading skills and I have been asking him to tell me a few letter names and sounds each evening when we read a book before bed. Sometimes I will write a simple word on his magna doodle, just so he used to seeing those basic words sounded out, like his kindergarten teacher will be doing with him shortly. Tonight I wrote the words BAT and MAN for Josh because we were talking about a certain super hero earlier in the day. Josh asked me to erase those words and write some words which he needed to know. He asked me to write the word SELECT and the words SLASH and SLEEP. It seems that Matt has been teaching Josh how to play his favorite fantasy world computer game and Josh was trying to remember the commands. Necessity maybe the mother of invention, but it can also inspire a kid to learn.

glimpse of the future

I have always said that I fear the teenage years with Evan. Evan is a limit pusher, an authority questioner, and a thrill seeker. Sounds like he is already a teenager, right? Luckily he still young enough for me to still be the established one in charge, but I have seen what I am in for with him, and people, I am scared. Kitten is here with her kids, and I can see in Kitten's 13 year old a future Evan. Her 13 year old has been fresh with her. He has cut her off mid sentence and dismissed what she has to say, and generally acts like what she thinks is absurd. Then he can be perfectly pleasant with her. Then he goes all Mr. Hyde again. Yup, I can see the potential in Evan for this exact same behavior.

Now, I also see this attitude as not that unusual for a teenager who needs to establish his own identity and must distance himself from any parental influence and pretend that he and only he has the answers. I'm not a teenager anymore, and I think I have (almost) all the answers. I get the teenage thing, I just don't want to be on the receiving end of that kind of attitude. But I swear that when and if (because there is still a chance he may not, even though I doubt it) Evan pulls this attitude on me I am not sure how gracefully I am going to handle it. I take that back, I am sure how gracefully I will handle it, and I am not going to handle it gracefully at all. As a matter of fact, I am doing everything in my power to keep my big mouth shut when Kitten's son answers her back. It is killing me. The first time Kitten's kid talked back, I know my eyes almost fell out of my head, I looked at Kitten, waiting for her to squash him. Kitten is a strong woman. Nothing. She told me later that she had tried every approach with her kid and that nothing seemed to remedy the problem. Damn.

The thing about Kitten's kid is that he was the sweetest little kid, there was no indication of what was to come. Evan, at age 9, already has the indicators what could that possibly mean for him? I'm scared. Shaking actually. I figure I have maybe three more years before it all begins. I have three years give or take before the beginning of the end. I wonder of any scientist anywhere is working to solve this special kind of teenage brain wave/hormone/chemical imbalance. I'd bike, run, walk, sell cookies, do most anything to raise money for this kind of research. Imagine a cure. My teenage son could sail through puberty being loving, respectful, and tender with me. Either that or I could I spend Evan's teenage years cowering in the basement afraid to come out. My skin would benefit from the lack of UVA/UVB rays. Or medicated. If they knocked me out I wouldn't be able to hurt Evan when he talked back to me. I wonder what percent of medicated mothers are parents to teenagers.

I have seen the future, and I am scared people, scared. Suggestions welcome.

housecleaning and breathing (or not)

My babe Kitten, the one who inspired me to bike just a little faster, is coming for a visit with her family. I just love having guests, but wonder why I need that kind of inspiration to do a little house cleaning. Seriously, if no one ever visited the neighbors would probably have to report me to the board of health, who might have to end up removing me from my own home, except only after they shoveled a path to clear the way for me to exit. OK, so maybe I am exaggerating just a little, but I do tend to let things slide just a little too far before I get off the couch and then do a whirlwind kind of major clean out. I am sure I could spend a few hours on the couch unraveling that mystery, but I will tell you that I clearly recall early on in the relationship with the husband I informed him that if what he was looking for in a life partner encompassed house cleaning skills he was barking up the wrong tree. It is for that reason , that I have decided that after two summers of toilet scrubbing, sweeping, mopping, and other house hold duties, that when we are finished replacing this island house, I am hiring a cleaner to come in once a week and do the grunge work. I can handle bed making and the day to day (OK, barely... but let's pretend) but toilets? I am willing to open my tight little fist and pay some one else some bucks for that pleasure.

Back to Kitten, I have one concern about her visit. Kitten is doing the triathlon for the first time this year. She is nervous and I am enjoying listening to her nervousness and remembering how freaked out I was at this time last year. Kitten specifically asked me of we could do lots of preparation while she was here, to which I confidently replied in the positive. Since I felt more of myself yesterday I thought for sure I would be 100% today. NOT. I wore myself out grocery shopping. Matt got a kick out of me backing my truck up through the tangle of trees on the island just so I wouldn't have to walk an extra ten feet to unload all the food.

Kitten really wants to swim, and I am still winded from this cough, and Kitten wants to bike, and the thought of the hills around this lake make me want to get into bed and pull up the covers over my head (and naturally fall fast asleep). I know the right thing to do is to continue to take it easy while I recover (I am not well yet, I get this, I am still coughing and my neighbor saw me taking out the trash this morning and said "Clickmom you look... you look ... you look sick.") And if that alone doesn't make me want to run and hide THERE ARE ONLY 24 DAYS LEFT UNTIL RACE DAY. Do me a favor and cross your fingers and hope I wake up tomorrow feeling not bronchially challenged.

a dash of this a pinch of that...

1. Feeling better, thank you. I have turned the corner on this whole respiratory infection and actually smelled a thing or two this evening for the first time in 48 hours.

2. I am stat crazy, and I often check to see what exactly people have googled to get to my website. Typically it is an apparantly non english speaking person trying to find some porn who can't spell Boobs, and instead writes Boops, the tag I given one of my favorite babes. Boy are they in for adisappointment. Today I was doing some stat snooping and saw that someone googled "clickmom" and then spent a nice chunk of time reading through my archives. For some bizarre reason this freaked me out. It isn't like they blogged my real name. But, if in some alternate universe, my blog got at all popular, there are some old posts in there I would have to delete before I got driven out of the neighborhood by angry mobs of torch carrying Stepford wives and the men who like their women bleached blonde and anorexic. Hmmm... maybe it is time for a little blog housekeeping.

3. We went bowling last weekend, and check out the dogs on Matt. Can you see the size of his bowling shoes? Is that crazy or what?!?

4. I found one of my favorite places in the world, inside a supermarket with it's own little health food store in it. More craziness....but in a good way.

countdown

I got the Vicks Vapo Rub today. I put it on, smelled nothing, added another layer, still smelled nothing, so I put my face inside my shirt. I still smelled nothing, but I knew the Vicks was there because my eyes began to burn and water.

No lead blanket for me tonight, what a disappointment, but on the bright side there are only 46 minutes left until I take Nyquil.

hot tip of the day

The boys have their PS2 here, and we have been using it to watch DVDs while we hide inside from the mosquitos every evening. The PS2 stopped working. I asked a neighbor who was about to take his grandson's PS2 in for repair where he was planning on going for the repair when he gave me this tip:

Grandpa said that the repair guy told him to bang the PS2 on a hard surface, such as the kitchen counter, 3 or 4 times. He said that the usual culprit was dirt that had gotten into the machine and prevented the machine from reading the disks. The repair guy said that they do that first in the shop, and charge customers $75 for it.

Guess who has a working PS2? Yup, me and Grandpa! And no one had to pay a thing or even leave the house.

PS I wouldn't use this technique too often or if you have anger issues with the PS2.

sicker than before

I knew I was in trouble yesterday evening when two things happened. First, the coughing got so intense, there was pee. No puking, but it sure sounded like it since Evan kept asking me if I was going to. Second, I sat around just waiting to put the kids to sleep thinking how chilly it was and how cool it had gotten. Then when I stood up I felt the heat that was my back which had been trapped between me and the chair. I get the shivers.

I change into a nightgown, a night shirt a sweatshirt and socks. I'm still cold. I get Josh settled. I crawl back to the den and count the seconds til I can get Ev all tucked in. I write out instructions for Matt (turn off lights, crate the devil dog, brush your teeth, etc...) bid him farewell hope he really does go to bed at 11, and tuck Ev in. I return to my bed, toss on an extra blanket and crawl under the blankets.

More shivers. The coughing immediately escalates to a whole new level of of attemped lung expellation. I am pretty sure some sinus came out my tear ducts. The nose begins to drip and drip and drip. As I create a pocket of hot air under the blankets it becomes harder and harder to reach out my one arm into the frigid room air to get another tissue. I begin to bargain with myself. Can I wipe my nose on the blanket? Pillow case? I do need to toss it all into the laundry, and if I could only keep my arm warm I am sure to feel well enough in the morning to throw a load or two in the washing machine. Right? I mean, how bad would that have been? A grown up can do it when 1. they are that sick and 2. they are the laundry washers anyways so it wasn't like I would be creating more work for anyone else. You'll be glad to know I suffered cold arm syndrome and used tissues.

Then I began to fantasize about the dentists lead apron. If only I had two or three of those I could sew them together and make a blanket that would feel just right. Surely the dentists lead apron would keep me warm. I imagined all the shapes and sizes I could create from those aprons. Yes, I would be very happy with a lead apron blanket, even if it was industrial tan. I'd deal with the color.

The I started longing for Nyquil, the sniffling sneezing coughing stuffy head fever so you can rest medicine. I had all those symptoms! I needed Nyquil and I didn't have any. Life isn't fair. There was no Nyquil in the house. I began to fantasize about taking some Nyquil in the den and being half asleep before I even shuffled as far as the bedroom. Aaaahhh, I am so happy not to be pregnant and nursing so I can take any thing I want. I can eat anything, drink anything and I can MEDICATE! Woo Hooooo!! Except, there is no Nyquil in this house, I knew exactly where it was at home. I could see the shape of the big green pleasure bullets, I could remember the burn of the liquid version going down. I longed for the buzz, for the inevitable drugged out Nyquil sleep. Oh, if only I could have a Nyquil.

And Vicks vapo rub. I would happily sacrifice any t-shirt in the drawer to the menthol goodness that is Vicks. I longed for the greasy lung relaxing coughing spasm reducing stench of the Vicks. If only those scented vapors could reach my nose I was sure my lungs would just relax and I could fall asleep in heavenly state of drugged aromatic sleep of the feverishly ill.

Eventually I slept, but it was no good. It was fitful and restless.

Jailbait just showed up, The kids are taken care of so I am back to bed.