I came here today, in the wee hours of the morning, actually, because I noticed a charge from Xanga that had been paid through Paypal, the money coming out of my bank account, no authorization needed from me.  It’s one thing to automatically charge my credit card, but that someone is automatically debiting my checking account is disturbing.  I’m not sure what to think about that.

I started my account here to talk about my children and their experiences in early life.  Now Bug is 14 and going to be starting high school, and Bean is 9 and going into 4th grade.  Allie is a distant memory, and even Kay isn’t around as much, although we’ve had a resurgence in her company the last few months.  Bug has new friends, I have new friends, even Bean has new friends.  Life passes by so quickly, as cliched as that sounds. For the first time in 10 years, I returned to Orange county to go to the So Cal LLL conference over Memorial Day weekend. It was strange, seeing places that were somewhat familiar, but not quite.  I drove over the 241 toll road.  I really wanted to go to Rancho Santa Margarita, but it was not to be.  Bean didn’t want to go, and we had been driving for awhile, so I acquiesced. She wanted to spend all her time swimming in the hotel pool or visiting the ocean, but I had conference sessions to attend!  We did make it to Knott’s Berry farm on Sunday.

Funny things were said today and yesterday and maybe even before, but although I jot them down mentally, I can’t recall them when I actually have time to write them down.  One thing I do remember is somehow the topic of the dog came up, and I remarked that I want to die before our dog, Dandelion.  The husband said he wants Dandelion to live forever and to be revered as a god by whatever species supersedes humans.

The other night I told him there was a black widow right outside the basement door, so he came down to kill it with a paper towel.  That surprised me so I asked, “Are you going to kill it with a paper towel?”  He replied, “What do you want me to do, call it a cab?”  He kept making somewhat frenetic jokes the whole time because I wanted to take a photo of it.

This morning the kids were playing Minecraft, and Bug was wishing her ocelots could mate with her wolves.  Bean seemed rather nonplussed by that idea and said in disgust, “Why would you want to mate a dog with a cat?”  Bug said it would be cute if you could have babies that were part cat and dog. So Bean again expressed her disbelief that this would be desirable, saying, “You want two completely animals that are so different from each other that they are different species to have sex and have babies?  That’s disgusting!  That would be like a human having sex with a puppy!” 

The other day I was talking about “facetiming” one of my nieces, and the husband said he didn’t get the appeal of Facetime, other than maybe the first time you got to see someone.  Then he added, “But I guess it would be good for phone sex.”  I remonstrated him for talking about phone sex in front of the kids and he said, “They know what phone sex is, I’m pretty sure.”  Bean said she did.  I asked how, because honestly, I didn’t think it was one of those topics that had ever come up.  She replied, “Ummmm, Seinfeld, Family Guy.”  Oh.  Yeah.  Anything you want to know, I’m sure you could learn from Family Guy. 

Today it is breezy, cool but sunny.  It will be getting hot by the end of the week, but we’ve had a lot of cool weather.  I got up early to take Bean to the orthodontist at 8:15, only to find out her appointment is Tuesday.  I tried to call ahead of time, but they weren’t in the office until 8.  I came home and planted a bunch of iris bulbs that a friend dug up from her garden yesterday.  Unfortunately I’m now reading that they are best planted in July, August or September, and they need well drained soil.  I planted them in a very wet spot, which apparently will lead to root rot.  It’s fine, I guess I’m just experimenting anyway at this point.  I also planted one of my tomato plants in an area that gets sun, but can have some shade, and will get watered on its own.  The others will stay in their pots, I’ll hopefully continue to water them, and I’ll see how it all turns out.

Both the girls are sick just a bit.  Bean has been complaining of a real stomach ache for several days.  Real in that her stomach actually hurts, not the nebulous I don’t want to go to school or I’m really hungry stomach aches she normally gets.  Then this morning Bug threw up, and apparently got light-headed enough to fall down.  She said that normally her vision gets darker when she feels light-headed after standing up, but that didn’t happen this time, and then she was on the floor.  But she seems fine now, and since I had a stomach ache and felt pretty nauseated a few days ago, I’m guessing it’s all related. 

Here I am, after 3 years.  Today, amusingly enough, was the last day of school.  It looks like the same was true of June 6th in 2007.  Only now Bug is in middle school and Bean just finished second grade.  Bug passed her Algebra credit by exam test with a 98%.  Bean got into the gifted program this year, and is supposed to be going to the school within a school program next year.  So my time at this elementary school is at an end, earlier than I had planned.  It’s funny how attached to the school I’ve gotten, more so than my own elementary schools…although I had 5 of them, so that might be part of it.  Bug actually really missed her elementary, and still wishes she could go there instead of the middle school, but she seemed to enjoy her friends and her teachers.

I came here to find my old posts about my kids, and it’s so funny how things have changed in the last 7 years.  And, finally, after 3308 days since I joined Xanga, I upgraded to premium.  I felt like I had to, just to make sure my stuff doesn’t go away.  I’m hoping I can more easily copy it off without the ads getting in the way.

So I share my opinion on various message boards, and my goal, really, is to explain myself. I had a discussion with my husband about what I want when I have these arguments or debates, and I realize that even though it would be great if I could make someone change a viewpoint, really, I just want understanding. So I post these very long responses on a thread, and the person either argues with me, or ignores me and restates their point. When their response comes immediately after a very long post of mine, and they are clearly ignoring me, I always feel a little annoyed. Like why can’t someone say, “I see what you are saying, but I disagree.”

In any event, here is what I said about Susan Boyle. I’ve said it to my husband in a variety of ways, and he’s tired of hearing it. Someone posted about Why Susan Boyle brings us to tears, and mentioned the media cynics who just don’t get it.

I have to admit that I’m in the camp that doesn’t get it. She has a lovely voice, don’t get me wrong, but there is nothing surprising about her having a lovely voice. There is nothing about how she looks that would make you think otherwise. I know many people who sing really well who look a lot like her. I know people who sing professionally on a local level. They sing in various groups in the area or may get paid to sing at various functions in the community. They may teach voice lessons at the university, they might wow people on the stage in a local musical production. They might sing in light opera compaies, or they may blow your socks off in a karaoke contest or an open mic night. There are lots of ways to be a really good amateur, there are lots of ways to be a professional musician also; it’s not all about being a pop star. We already know, or should know, that pop singers aren’t necessarily very good singers. It’s not about the voice or even how technically good they are, a lot of it is about the whole package of youth and fitting the current social trends of beauty. I’m not sure why we equate how great a singer someone is with the money and fame they may achieve because of it.

So it bothers me because the whole thing is very fake, the goofball hosts of the show monkeying around off the stage with this “ha, we skunked ya, didn’t we” attitude, judges caught with the deer in the headlights look, the audience coached to act a certain way. All because it supposedly makes good tv, which is why the producers do the same kind of leading on shows like American Idol or America’s Got Talent, but to me it’s too unbelievable. OK, so it is tv, it’s a talent show, so we aren’t expecting professionals, but still, it’s a huge televised thing and you’d expect them to actually put people on who will be entertaining and decent at what they do. Maybe not as good as she turned out to be, but still good. Where would you find a panel of supposedly professional judges, supposedly with musical ability, who would sit there, mouths gaping open, basically with this “oh, I thought you were going to suck” kind of expression. It’s just baloney, it feels like a straw man situation.

Also, I felt like in the clip I saw, she came away reasonably well. Yes, perhaps she was a little socially awkward, but she seemed fairly typical, no more odd than I am. She spoke clearly, smiled, shook her hips and seemed fairly confident. I honestly believe that if a thin, young attractive woman had done that, it would have been construed entirely differently. But because she looks the way she does, her actions are suspect and used as proof of her social ineptness.

Finally, the comment that we can’t judge a book by its cover really bothers me. It’s upsetting that people see value in her now because it turns out she has a gift. What if she had been a lousy singer, or just mediocre? People have all sorts of different gifts and abilities, and we can hone our skills and work at it, but really, the core of talent is innate. It’s kind of like beauty, all the surgery or make up in the world can’t change your facial structure to a degree people suddenly find beautiful. She is a worthwhile person in spite of her appearance, she’s a worthwhile person in spite of her intelligence, and she’s a worthwhile person in spite of her singing ability.

Today as I was taking Bug to her summer day camp, I saw a big Mayflower moving van driving by our house and then turning onto the street in front of us. I knew that Allie was finally moving, and I’ve been very sad about it since. She’s been saying they were going to move for about a year now. First they were going to move at some point after school started, then after school ended. They didn’t get their house on the market until late winter, and houses of that size take a long time to sell around here…years in some cases. Then she said they would be moving a few weeks into summer. Bug wanted to make sure that Allie could come to the first day of summer party, although we had it the second day since my mom was here. Last night they were having a big party at their house. Bug looked out a little forlornly and said that she was supposed to be invited to that, but since it was on a Sunday, I figured maybe it was a church thing. Now today the moving van is there. I remember the Mayflower moving van from when I was a child, it was exciting. As an adult the times I’ve moved have mostly been bittersweet. Excited that we were going to a new place, but all things being equal, I would have rather remained where I was. Just yesterday I was using Allie’s goggles, and I hung her lifejacket up on my fence. I suppose I should run their things back to them, so they can go to Utah with them.

For awhile, Allie was Bug’s best friend, and still probably one of her best ones. Kay’s friendship is so all encompassing, I sometimes wish we could move just to get away from her. Kay and Bug would probably be crushed, but I feel like I am losing Bug. She is not who she would have been if we hadn’t moved from California or if we had never left Virginia. None of us are the same, I know, these things in our lives change us. I remember the day we left CA, and the little girl, Clara, who felt like Bug was her sister, was so very sad. Bug was only 2.5, didn’t quite get it. The last time we saw her, Bug said, “See you soon, Clara” and waved. I remember when we first saw Allie, Max and their mother. I was pregnant with Bean, and they were out working in the yard. We went over to talk to them. Not long after, Allie started coming over to play, and then Max too. There has been some pulling away in the last year or two. Bug never got to be in class with Allie, although they were in rooms right next to each other. I don’t know if Allie’s parents would rather she have different playmates than Bug, the same way I feel about Kay, and maybe it is a relief from them that they are moving. They are moving to the Mormon Mecca, a place that they feel will be a better place to live, a more family oriented place. I know that the recent conflicts with the homeowner’s association probably left them feeling a little like they hadn’t picked a warm, friendly place to live. I guess they were just tired of it.

The last time Allie was here, she suddenly needed to go home. The husband and I both told her good-bye, thanked her for coming. She said she needed to go home and help take care of her mother, who was sick. Later on Bug said she left because she was upset because she was holding my rosin and then dropped it and it broke. Allie was one who would leave and go home if there was ever conflict between her and Bug, or if she was worried she would get in trouble. I still have a message on the phone from a few days ago. She was asking to borrow some cocoa powder. They were always borrowing something for their cooking…an egg or two, brown sugar, molasses, flour, peanut butter. I imagine their house will sit empty for awhile, and hopefully maybe another family with children will move in. I guess we’ll never get to see how the friendship would have played out as teens, if Max’s little crush on Bug would have kept him feeling friendly towards her when they were older. As a child, I never lived in one place for that long until after I was 12 and moved to the condo that we always were trying to get away from, but which we never could. My dad died living there, and now my sister and some of her kids are living there. But people always move away, you don’t really end up knowing people for long. Even if people stay around, you don’t necessarily remain friends.

Part of what might be amusing, or make some of this seem less disturbing is to imagine the typical 4 year old.

Yesterday we were in the car. I had picked her up from school and was taking her for swim lessons. She said in a kind of dreamy manner, “Mama, I wish I could go to the store and get a toy!”
“Nope!” I replied cheerfully, regretting the word almost immediately as soon as it came out of my mouth.
“You’re mean!
“You’re right, I shouldn’t have just said no when you didn’t ask me a question. I should have said that I understand that you want a new toy, new toys are fun and children your age get excited about going to the store for toys.
“Can we go to the store and get a new toy?” The excitement in her voice was palpable.
“No,” I replied.
“You’re MEAN!”

Silence for awhile. I saw her sulkily sucking her thumb. Then she asked if I wanted her to talk to me. I sat silently, mulling this over, not answering. I felt like I knew exactly how the conversation would play out, but I was wondering if I should interpret it straightforwardly and answer that way. While I was thinking this, she screeched out in an ugly tone, “ANSWER ME!”

I said in a bright tone of voice, “Yes, I would like to talk to you. What should we talk about.”

Of course the inevitable, “Well, too bad, I’m never talking to you again, that’s what you get!”
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This morning she wanted me to get a snow globe for her. I got her the large Christmas snow globe that was in a box in the garage cabinet, but I refused to get her the smaller snowglobes that were packed up in bins in the top cabinet and would require a ladder. She came into the room where I was and asked again. When I told her no again, she hit my foot lightly to express her anger. I admonished her for that and she said, “Well, you asked for it!”

Ummmm…
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Today in the car, she said wanted to be really, really, really, really, really (insert more reallys) skinny. This morning she came and started doing push-ups in front of me. It was cute, actually, and she did it pretty well. Her butt was not up in the air and her back was in a straight line. Then she tried to do a sit up, but could not. She told me she did not want to be fat when she grew up, and she sounded really sad about it. So then in the car this afternoon she made the comment about wanting to be skinny, but she put so many reallys in that it was kind of the goofy kid thing. I can’t remember what I said or if I said anything, actually. Bug was talking too, goofing around, telling her that would be too skinny and she’d look stupid. Bean said, “Come on! I need to walk on the treadmill. It will make my legs skinny.” I told her she was actually already pretty skinny, and she said that she was heavier than Sally, one of Bug’s friends at school. Bug says this all the time, and I finally told them I don’t see it to be true. Bug says Sally weighs 40 lbs. Forty lbs is not a typical weight for a 9 year old.

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Yesterday in the car, right as we were getting home, in a voice full of wonder like she was an actress in a Christmas movie, she said, “You don’t have to sleep in Heaven. There’s no darkness, it’s light. There’s no toys to pick up and everything!”

Today was the last day of school. The children, of course, were thrilled. Mostly. One little girl was hugging Bug and crying. Yesterday she was crying as well. The parents were invited to a tea party (actually punch and cookies) in the classroom at 2:15 to thank us for our volunteering, and to do a little recitation for us–the Three Bears rap. They moved their desks together and set their chairs out in rows for us. I got their early and was chatting with the students about their summer plans. During that time I found out that some of the children would not be returning the next year as they were there on a variance. One of the children, Sandy, is a friend of Bug’s and she was quite upset about it. I found out later that the only variances given were to returning 6th graders, and then they were going to wait until August to grant anymore.

Today was early dismissal, so I went about 10 minutes early to see them in the classroom one last time. All the posters were off the walls, the desks were stacked and the chairs pushed together in a pile. The children were sitting on the floor, and she was calling them up one by one to hug them good-bye and let them get in line by the door. Her book rack was mainly empty as this teacher, like her teacher last year, is retiring and let each child choose some books. There was still a book in the rack that Bean had taken a shine to the day before, so she got it out and was happily exclaiming over the photos even as the bell rang. It reminded me of the year before when Bean was just so happy to be invited into the classroom that she was getting textbooks out and trying to show her big sister even as the children were counting down to the ringing bell.

This time there was no countdown as the teacher was doing her special good-bye, but the bell rang and I heard cheering all around outside. When we exited the room, School’s Out (for summer) started blasting through the intercom. Kids were ecstatic and it was a just an exciting thing to be around. Some children in the classroom had told Bean she could keep the book she was admiring, so I had her ask the teacher and Bean got to take it with her.

Bug’s teacher had a piano in her classroom, and she’d use it to teach the children songs and sing with them in the morning right before the lesson started, but she also played a few loud chords to bring them to attention when things were chaotic, like yesterday at the end of the tea party. I thought it was so nice that it was a classroom with a piano, and today I saw it was gone. I asked her if she had moved it out to take home, but apparently it was going down to a classroom at the end of the building where there were some teachers who also play and were interested in having a piano in their classroom. Wonderful!

We walked out to the front of the school where happy children abounded, and I saw that once again, Sandy was sobbing and holding onto Bug. She was so upset that she wouldn’t be returning to school, but I told her there was still a chance she would get her variance in August. I don’t think she realized that. Maybe her father just figures it will be easier for her to go to school in the correct zone.

The children played out on the grass, as they had all year, for one last time. An early game that hadn’t been played in quite some time was trotted out again: the fall down whenever Bean lightly pushed on anyone causing her to shriek in laughter game. I would say their enthusiasm is infectious, but it’s bittersweet to see it. Yesterday the teacher was crying, parents were crying, I was choking back tears myself. The teacher said that the year seemed to go by so fast. I told her that they all seem to go by pretty fast anymore these days, although it seems like Bean has been in the trying threes forever.

I was in second grade once. I can still remember the classroom and the teacher and a lot of the students. And now I am 40. Each year only comes around once, and back when I was in elementary school, they all seemed to be the same, but wow, you are only a kid once. Thank goodness, I guess, but it’s still such a bittersweet thing. I am so maudlin all the time lately, but really I’ve always had that tendency. The tendency in a time of happiness where you might be almost lost in your own feeling to stop and look around and consider the walls of the room, and how we’d be leaving them soon, but they would still be standing there even when the happy throng had long dispersed.

On the lawn today was a new tree, planted by the 6th graders on Monday during their special celebration. It was tied with purple ribbons in tribute of the little girl who never got to finish 6th grade and will be forever remembered as a student of that school. She died this year so there will never be another school for her. All in all, then, I’m happy that I get to celebrate these yearly endings because the alternative is heartbreaking.

Bug’s birthday: The phone rang at 8:30 am and I figured it was a Happy Birthday phone call. It was my mom and I had Bug answer. I heard her cheery greeting and then she told me grandma wanted to talk to me. I asked her if she called to tell Bug happy birthday. Oh, it’s her birthday already, let me talk to her again. So I gave the phone back to Bug who said thank you and then said, “No, 8.” My mom thought she was turning 7.

Contrast that with her paternal grandmother and step-grandmother. SMIL called me to ask for ideas. I told her clothes, and even told her the catalogue and the items Bug had circled. So she got a Lilly Pulitzer halter style dress and capris and a peasant blouse from the catalogue, plus two books. MIL never asks, but interestingly sent similar items. A cute dress and a book. And because she didn’t ask me sizes and chose to send a size 8, the dress will fit her now. I had SMIL get 10s, and a ten is just about right for the Lilly Pulitzer dress.

The thing is, I’m kind of like my mom. I just ran out yesterday to get gifts because I just can’t believe it is her birthday again already! I ended up getting her crayons, a pad of paper, white board markers, Puppy in my Pocket dogs (a pack with 4) and then last night I bought her a little stuffed bear that she had wanted. I was thinking of buying her a biggish gift, like a bicycle or a Leapster L-Max game, but I just decided to go low-key because she is having a birthday party on Saturday and that will cost money.

Perhaps you’ve seen little kids running around in circles and cackling like mad scientists, seeming limitless reserves of energy. And if there are other adults around, you sit there and watch the children together, smiling, and remarking that you don’t know where kids get their energy and you only wish you had the same.

It is the standard response, it seems, to any sort of display like this. Usually I’m just happy that I’m not the one having to run around with them–that there are other children. But the truth is, kids don’t have the corner on the energy market. When you are rushing around in the morning, trying to get your child to school and you have to make breakfast and get dressed and make sure your kid going to school is dressed with her homework and whatever outerwear she needs. And maybe you want your younger kid dressed too, although really, she can just ride naked for the short ride. Anyway, when you are doing all that, and your child is poking along, barely moving, she’s conserving energy. When she doesn’t have socks and you tell her to run upstairs to find a pair and you can tell by the rate at which she is moving you will be lucky if she gets the sock before the next phase of the moon, you’re probably the one who dashes up the stairs to find the socks for her.

By the time she is finally at the school, you are practically breathless with all the running around you have done. So you come home to finish up the breakfast you never got to eat, and you start in on the dishes. Where is the wild running three year old? Well, just playing quietly or watching tv, or eating or making more messes. Meanwhile you barely have a chance to sit and eat before it’s time to get up again. You are dashing up the stairs yet again to find clothes for your 3 year old because you are going to drive back to the school to show support for the older girl who is participating in the jog-a-thon.

You run too, of course, as a kind of moral support. You can’t run very fast, but you jog your 270 lb body around the course and stop and walk when your child stops and walks. You can insert whatever weight you want there–I’m sure no one reading this weighs as much as I do. And for that matter, did their child have a jog-a-thon today? No. But this is all sort of, well, symbolic or just representative of all the different ways in which we as mothers expend so much energy. OK, back to that, your 3 year old declares she is tired and lies down in the grass, effectively becoming a bump in the road for the other runners. So you show her to a safe resting place and try and then break into a jog again, trying to catch your 7 year old. A little while later you heave the 3 year old up on your shoulders and run as much as you can before her 40 lb weight becomes too much, and you have to swing her down to the ground while she is exhorting you, “run! run faster!” The teacher smiles and compliments you for your energy, which is nice for once, but you wonder if she secretly is worried you are going to fall down or have a coronary or something.

So who is it, last to bed because finally both kids are asleep and you can have some quiet time to yourself? And then maybe you are up several times because of kids, or maybe not. But even if not, the little one is in your bed when you get there, and you have to eke out a small bit of territory for yourself, and then you have to get even more energy sucked out of you when your child starts nursing and doesn’t want to stop. But she is up an hour before the alarm goes off, making sure to get some good breastfeeding in first. Fueling herself for the day ahead where, after the jog-a-thon at the older girl’s school, she can proclaim she is tired of walking and have you carry her back to the car. Then she can come home and fall dead asleep on the couch while you are fixing lunch and still trying to get the dishes done.

Later on, when you are digging through big black bags of garbage in the dumpster at the school, looking for the older girl’s retainer, your kids are the one sitting peacefully in the car, watching a dvd. By the way, you probably wouldn’t be amazed to see how much food is wasted and just how much waste the school generates on a daily basis. The lunch lady told you there were 12 bags of lunch trash, but after digging through cardboard and styrofoam that are covered with vacuum cleaner dust to find bags covered with the same dust, and heaving the bags out of the dumpster, and digging through 7 bags of ranch dressing and milk covered half eaten lunch remains, you figure it’s a loss and time to go take a shower.

And when you sit and try to type about it, the older girl comes crying to you, because the younger girl has thrown her favorite littlest petshop in the gerbil cage, and the gerbil has gnawed off the ears and tails. The perpetrator of the crime is angry because people are finding fault with her, and starts throwing stuff. And the victim of the heinous act is demanding that you have taken enough time in the bathroom, come out and dig through the gerbil litter to find the ears and the tail, for goodness sake!

Later on you will go and force yourself on the treadmill, even if you are tired and not in the mood, because you know it is good for you and grown ups have to do such things. If the kids get tired and don’t want to walk, they won’t walk. Believe me, you know. You’ve threatened them with abandonment after they conned you into thinking that yes, in fact, they could walk half a mile with no problem and that you would be denying them cruelly if you didn’t take them on this walk right away. And then always, halfway into it, they faint dead away from exhaustion, unable to walk even one more step. Where is that energy that we envy then? Oh, it’s in us, carrying all 40 lbs of them, even up a hill, even when we are 9 months pregnant. We figure it is good for us, if we are being positive. Otherwise we play the odds, considering how it will look to leave kids about a quarter of a mile down the road while we go and get the car–will someone driving by frown and shake their heads at us while calling CPS? You aren’t sure. You only know it’s like wearing clean underwear in case you are in a car accident. Or wearing clothes to drive your daughter to school. Chances are it won’t matter that you are in your nightshirt, but there is that one in a thousand chance that you will have to walk around so clad on school property, so you go get dressed. Anyway, this idea that kids have all the energy is for the birds. So the next time you see your children running around in circles and wonder where they get it from, remember it comes from you. Give yourself a pat on the back and take a much deserved rest.