I knew this morning when I woke up there was just something in the air...
After my shower, I got dressed in the same manner to which I've become accustomed. I reached in the drawer and pulled out a black bra I haven't worn in a while. In fact, it must have been pretty cold the last time I wore it because that is the only thing which could justify the adjustment of the shoulder straps. Once I was locked and loaded in it, I realized my boobs could double as ear muffs. I readjusted the straps and my body temperature returned to normal, then I went and did my hair and it, shockingly, performed quite well today. About flipping time!
So, I puttered around the house and hung some laundry out. I cleaned toilets (bleah) and kind of organzied some things. I loaded the dishwasher and figured out what to make for dinner. You know, basic useless stuff. Brian had mentioned that there might be some viewings of the house today so I wanted to be ready.
After I finished puttering I was bored to tears so I decdied to head to WalMart for no real reason other than to putter around there. I went to the McDonald's inside and got a Diet Coke. I journeyed through the craft department to look at the scrapbooking markdowns (Martha Stewart stuff is being marked down!) and came across many interesting people.
I've mentioned before how annoying it is that women can't seem to find clothes to fit them. Since I turned 15, I have been every size from a 7 to a 26 and now linger somewhere in the middle. I can find clothes which fit me. Aside from fit, there is the lucky possibility that one's ensemble might actually flatter their body. I shoot for that. Sometimes it works and other times it doesn't. Whatever, at least I make the effort.
Today was Ta-Ta Thursday. And, who doesn't love a great rack? Seriously, I appreciate the work a woman goes through to look good. Many of us really have to put some serious effort into looking put together while others (cows) roll out of bed looking like a million bucks. We don't like the ones who do. I do understand that when we girls look good, we feel fabulous and everyone wants that. I think one of the things men notice about a woman who looks good is the confidence she feels in knowing she hit the mark with her appearance. Knockers help us seal the deal.
So, today at the store there was a plentitude of ladies (ah-hem) weearing baby-doll t-shirts three sizes too small so they get the dreaded muffin-top, or the muffin-top's evil cousin, the hanging foldover. You know, that thing that happens when the belly overspills the top of the jeans/shorts/skirt, and in doing so, the spillage seems to fold itself and hang like a stuffed apron of skin about the midriff. There's an image for ya, consider it a gift. You're welcome.
Only slightly less striking than the belly waterfalls abounding the discount superstore was the wealth of ooohverstretched sildscreened images and phrases emblazoned across the milkers of our day's favorite fashion victims. Seriously, do you buy clothes with the sole mission of ruining them? Buy the right size, ladies, society will thank you for it!
So, when I was leaving the store with Diet Coke and chocolate cake in-hand, there were two ladies with their litters walking near my truck. Both ladies were well dressed as were the fourteen children about them, but the disaster about it all was the pregnant lady. She was wearing black capri pants and black ballet flats. She carried a very nice black bag which was no doubt stuffed with lots of snacks and items to entertain the little cherubs. Her hair was done nicely and her make-up was impeccable. Where then, was the trainwreck? Ah, her hormone engorged funbags ensconced in what my friend and I affectionately call, a "booby shirt."
We all have them, shirts which empower us and make us feel like we can, via our vessels of womanhood, conquer the world. They may be snug or low-cut. They might have built-in accessories which draw the eye to the region. You never know what you're gonna get and my booby shirt may be your fatal mistake, or vise-versa.
This particular booby shirt was a print featuring red, black and white. It had a small metal ring which gathered the fabric between the twins and forced the neckline into a vortex of cleavage. Seriously, I feared walking too close to her for fear I would be sucked in that valley and never return. It was clear that 47% of each melon was visible, with the nipple being the vulgarity guide. And, of course, remember she was pregnant, likely about six or seven months. She was workin' what she got, but those boobs were really distracting. Yikes. Yuck.
Once I got in the truck and pulled out, I chose to exit the lot to the south and travel between the restaurants since it tended to get me out of there quicker. Then, it got worse.
I was stopped at the stop sign near the Golden Corral when a family happened across the lot in front of me. There was a retired military guy (you know them when you see them if you got skillz) in his undershirt and stretchy shorts (to maximize the benefits of a buffet visit), what appeared to be three young adult children, and a lady who appeared to be older than retired guy, but not by much. Her hair was done nicely. She had on decent shoes and her make-up looked ok. And then, I realized it. She was wearing a mu-muu. In public, she was wearing a mu-muu and this is not the big island. What is worse than the mu-muu was the lack of a bra. No, it was not an ill-fitting bra. It was not an improperly sized bra. It was a non-existent bra. And, lets remember, we ain't talkin' 'bout no spring chick. She must have used the gals as bumpers to keep her tummy from hitting the table. Ick. Put them away!
So, take this as a bit of friendly advice. If you don't package the presents well, no one will see you as a prize.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Lucky 13
Wow.This morning was our first regular open house with Brian. So far, here's a quick rundown of Brian's performance...
1) Signed the contract on Monday the 13th of April at 2pm.
2) Brian showed the house to a family on Monday the 13th of April at 4pm. That family liked our house along with another. Ultimately they decided to build a home just across the NM border, about 15 minutes from my neighborhood.
3) On Friday the 17th of April, Brian held our house open for the other Realtors from his agency. There was a good response and the cookies I made for the Realtors were a hit.
4) On Thursday the 23rd of April, Brian invited Realtors from the greater El Paso area to see the house. There was a good response from those who came. He fed them and left the remainder of the cheesecake bites in my freezer. My children now love Brian.
5) On Sunday the 26th of April at 10 am, Brian had the first open house for the public. Four families came to see the house as well as a family whose buying agent was at Brian's Realtor's tour of the house on Thursday. The family liked the house. A. WHOLE. LOT.
I decided to be patient and wait for Brian to call. Brian calls his clients weekly to update the status of their properties and last week he called Monday morning. I just expected to hear from him tomorrow. No problem.
I was watching "The Unit" and at 9:15 Brian texted me that the family who came today with their Realtor had written up a contract. He didn't have details at the time and only knew there was a contract. Today is the thirteenth day of the contract we signed with him.
I am almost speechless. I am doubtful that I will sleep tonight. I am on the verge of tears because I am pretty sure this nightmare is wrapping up.
I called Travis and woke him up (time difference). I prolly shoulda waited to call him until tomorrow, but I couldn't. He reacted in his typical manner- quiet reserve with a slight excitement.
This is very comforting.
1) Signed the contract on Monday the 13th of April at 2pm.
2) Brian showed the house to a family on Monday the 13th of April at 4pm. That family liked our house along with another. Ultimately they decided to build a home just across the NM border, about 15 minutes from my neighborhood.
3) On Friday the 17th of April, Brian held our house open for the other Realtors from his agency. There was a good response and the cookies I made for the Realtors were a hit.
4) On Thursday the 23rd of April, Brian invited Realtors from the greater El Paso area to see the house. There was a good response from those who came. He fed them and left the remainder of the cheesecake bites in my freezer. My children now love Brian.
5) On Sunday the 26th of April at 10 am, Brian had the first open house for the public. Four families came to see the house as well as a family whose buying agent was at Brian's Realtor's tour of the house on Thursday. The family liked the house. A. WHOLE. LOT.
I decided to be patient and wait for Brian to call. Brian calls his clients weekly to update the status of their properties and last week he called Monday morning. I just expected to hear from him tomorrow. No problem.
I was watching "The Unit" and at 9:15 Brian texted me that the family who came today with their Realtor had written up a contract. He didn't have details at the time and only knew there was a contract. Today is the thirteenth day of the contract we signed with him.
I am almost speechless. I am doubtful that I will sleep tonight. I am on the verge of tears because I am pretty sure this nightmare is wrapping up.
I called Travis and woke him up (time difference). I prolly shoulda waited to call him until tomorrow, but I couldn't. He reacted in his typical manner- quiet reserve with a slight excitement.
This is very comforting.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
So They Say
She's going to be sixteen soon. Not right away, but much sooner than I would like. I remember vividly, as do all mothers, the day she was born. I remember knowing I was pregnant before I was even late. Actually, I thought I was either pregnant or that I had mono again. I remember taking my pregnancy test and Travis' quiet and very reserved reaction. He was happy, but unsure of what laid ahead of us.
She's pretty cool, my kid. I don't tell her enough, and I know that. She is so smart and in love with music and reading. She is in a stage of constant evolution. She shocked the crap out of us last year when she said she wanted to try out for cheer. Then she did it again when she said she wanted to wrestle. She's a good friend to the kids she knows- many times I think she is better than some of them deserve. She's a good student partly because we gently push her to achieve and partly because she wants to go somewhere in this world. She is very much her own person.
When she was very young, everyone told us how much she looked like Travis. I still think she does. Now that she is getting older, people are starting to tell us how much she looks like me. I don't see it, but I'll take it. I think she is gorgeous and if I EVER looked like her, I was doin' pretty good. However, Amanda hates hearing about how much she looks like me. She doesn't mind hearing how much she looks like her father. I'm going to refrain from saying mean things about that. I think, more than anything, she just wants to look like her. That's OK too.
Since she was a tiny baby she's had this independent streak. Before we had her, I always dreamed of having a baby who would lay its little head on my shoulder when strangers would approach, or when it was tired or just because it wanted to. Amanda was not that baby. She came into this world with her big blue eyes wide open and that has never changed. She doesn't miss much because there is so much to take in and she is usually right on top of it, or better yet, in the middle of it.
That independence has made a number of people make predictions about her. "You'll have problems with her when she gets older." "That one, you'll have to worry about her." "Why IS she like THAT?" And those are just a smidge of what I've heard. Most of it wasn't said maliciously, but it has always pissed me off. Why can't she just be who she is? Sure, she's going to exhibit some of my personality traits and some of Travis', and maybe some of other family members, but she is unique unto herself. And, why is that not OK?
I'm never going to be willing to listen to what I hear about the kind of person she is. From the beginning, even though she has been our daughter, she has been her own person. Why do some seem so insistent to peg her with "who" she is more like. She's like her. And, I love that the predictions we've heard are largely not coming true.
I'm no fool, I know she is only 15 and there is plenty of time for her to completely change I also know that the move, when and if it ever happens, will have tremendous impact on her in a myriad of ways. That said, I know she's up for the challenge. She is ready to go. She is ready to embrace a new home, different from any she remembers. And she will deal with the loss of the world she's created for herself here, and that might really take some time, but she'll get through it.The reason she'll get through it is the very thing people warned us about. She's got to have the chance to feel the loss and work through it and her immersion in her new world has to happen on her terms too. I don't know if she'll jump right in and pick up like she never really left El Paso behind or if she'll be going slow so she can assess the situation and make decisions before committing to anything. I'm just going to have to remember not to push h
er because this is HER experience.
er because this is HER experience.Yes, she is independent. Yes, she is a redhead and what they say about redheads is true. She might look a bit like me or a lot like her Daddy. But, she is amazing just because she is herself. She is Amanda.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Junk
I don't really have anything particularly important to say, but for some reason feel as if I need to say something. So, whatever, I'll just roll with the junk stuck in my head...
1. Who cares about the First Family's dog? Really, is it a matter of national security that their "rescued" dog came from a breeder to whom the dog had been returned after its first family didn't gel with it? I have had rescued dogs, neither of whom came from a shelter. I consider both of them as having been resuced because at the time I obtained them, they were in bad circumstances. They both lived with families with children, one family just didn't like one of the dogs and the other family thought the dog was the most stupid thing they ever saw and threatened to kill her if they didn't get her a home that day. How is that good for a dog? If a family is a bad fit for a dog, and the dog winds up in a less than desirable environment and another family takes that dog, it is a rescue. The Obamas had to choose carefully because of health concerns for one of their daughters. When was the last time you saw a Portuguese Water Dog at the pound?
2. My house had been on the market with my previous Realtor for 27 weeks. My house has been on the market with the new Realtor for a week. In that week, my house has been shown to a family and just over a half-dozen Realtors. It has a virtual tour on the Internet. Last week, we came very close to having an offer put on the house. So, in one twenty-seventh the amount of time, the new Realtor has had half as many people see the house as the last one had in 27 weeks and has almost gotten an offer. I have learned so, so much and I will blog about that later.
3. I am tired. I am tired like I haven't been in five years. That's tired.
4. Although there are lots of things and people in El Paso that I will miss when we do get to move (again, another blog alltogether), I am ready to go. I have come to seriously dislike El Paso and am fighting the urge to say that I hate it here. But, I really think I do.
5. Someone in a circle of mine, whom I am not close to has done something stupid. I do not know if this person did so for attention or did so because they are ill or some combination of the two or what. What I do know is that someone they love is trying to guilt them into doing what they "should" do. What is ironic is that that same loved one did things very similar to the circle person years ago. It was forever ago, but now the loved one is throwing stones. That is but one of the many reasons that loved one of the circle person and I will never be close.
6. There was a time in my life I craved relationships with two people. I would have given almost anything to be close to them. And, when I say anything, I mean anything. Now, I am at the point where I have gained some clarity and I am grateful that those relationships never materialized into anything. My life is less complicated and I am safer for that nothingness. It took me many years for me to have the vision to see that my life is better this way.
7. I've been making menu plans in my head for when we move. Seriously, I've been spinning through my mental recipe rolodex for the last two weeks. I think I could cook for six months and never make the same thing twice once we get there. Travis has no idea how awesome his culinary experience is going to be.
8. I am super aggrivated with the new policy requiring my to lift my sunglasses when entering the gates on Fort Bliss. I do understand the importance of the guards being able to identify persons entering the gates based upon the identification they provide, but lets aim for some consistency, here. According to the guard I spoke with when I finally asked what the purpose was in my doing so, I was told, "The new Colonel doesn't believe we can identify people well enough when they are wearing dark sunglasses." Great. Let me add, my sunglasses are not dark, nor are they an accessory. They are prescription and I need them since I can't legally drive by Braille. It would also be helpful if the guards charged with ensuring the security of one of the world's premiere military installations would actually look at the picture on my ID and my face to see if there is some resemblance there. I would appreciate it if all the guards would follow the same protocol. Some ask them to be lifted, others that they be removed, others don't ask for their removal at all. Consistency, people, that's all I ask.
9. I am disgusted with myself because my goal was to have all my pre-move decrappification done by this point. I have dented it, but am not anywhere near done. I have way too much crap in this house and need to start with a week-long shredding party. I also need to get off my butt and start taking things to the thrift shop again. It gets the stuff out of the house and out of my hair and I make a couple bucks. Win-win. I have two bags of stuff sitting in the family room waiting to go. They've been waiting for two weeks. What's the delay?
10. This is TAKS testing week in Texas. Actually, I think there may have been some tests administered earlier than this week. This is the first week which affects my kids. I hate TAKS testing because the kids get freaked out because the teachers get freaked out because the administrators put the pressure they are handed from the districts on them and all-in-all, the people who lose out are the kids. Testing is necessary and I understand that. But, the benchmarks being tested need to be the benchmarks being taught and at least in Texas, they do not match up. Somehow, someone with an educatonal doctorate somewhere needs to pay attention to that and do something about it.
11. Don't be calling my house warning me that this is TAKS season and that my children need to get enough sleep and eat properly so that they will perform well. Let me say this... You don't need to call my home and tell me that. Maybe you should go to WalMart around 11:30 or midnight and find the kids still wearing their uniforms from your school and talk to their parents while they are purchasing their new plastic spinner rim inserts they so desperately need.
12. I really missed scrapbooking. I went to the Waiting Families scrapping this weekend and although I was going out of my mind because of the crazy going on there, I enjoyed working on my books. I came home from the three hour class and finished one page, then did three more. I need to do this more. I felt relaxed and like I accomplished something.
13. I want more brown fat in my body. Sounds like a good deal.
14. I am getting out my Turbo-Cooker to make dinner for the night. I haven't used my TC for about four years and can't find my recipe cards. Wish me luck.
15. I don't want to clean my kitchen.I guess that's enough for now. Barbara Walters is now talking about men with premature ejaculation on the View right now and I think I need to go puke.
Bleah.
1. Who cares about the First Family's dog? Really, is it a matter of national security that their "rescued" dog came from a breeder to whom the dog had been returned after its first family didn't gel with it? I have had rescued dogs, neither of whom came from a shelter. I consider both of them as having been resuced because at the time I obtained them, they were in bad circumstances. They both lived with families with children, one family just didn't like one of the dogs and the other family thought the dog was the most stupid thing they ever saw and threatened to kill her if they didn't get her a home that day. How is that good for a dog? If a family is a bad fit for a dog, and the dog winds up in a less than desirable environment and another family takes that dog, it is a rescue. The Obamas had to choose carefully because of health concerns for one of their daughters. When was the last time you saw a Portuguese Water Dog at the pound?
2. My house had been on the market with my previous Realtor for 27 weeks. My house has been on the market with the new Realtor for a week. In that week, my house has been shown to a family and just over a half-dozen Realtors. It has a virtual tour on the Internet. Last week, we came very close to having an offer put on the house. So, in one twenty-seventh the amount of time, the new Realtor has had half as many people see the house as the last one had in 27 weeks and has almost gotten an offer. I have learned so, so much and I will blog about that later.
3. I am tired. I am tired like I haven't been in five years. That's tired.
4. Although there are lots of things and people in El Paso that I will miss when we do get to move (again, another blog alltogether), I am ready to go. I have come to seriously dislike El Paso and am fighting the urge to say that I hate it here. But, I really think I do.
5. Someone in a circle of mine, whom I am not close to has done something stupid. I do not know if this person did so for attention or did so because they are ill or some combination of the two or what. What I do know is that someone they love is trying to guilt them into doing what they "should" do. What is ironic is that that same loved one did things very similar to the circle person years ago. It was forever ago, but now the loved one is throwing stones. That is but one of the many reasons that loved one of the circle person and I will never be close.
6. There was a time in my life I craved relationships with two people. I would have given almost anything to be close to them. And, when I say anything, I mean anything. Now, I am at the point where I have gained some clarity and I am grateful that those relationships never materialized into anything. My life is less complicated and I am safer for that nothingness. It took me many years for me to have the vision to see that my life is better this way.
7. I've been making menu plans in my head for when we move. Seriously, I've been spinning through my mental recipe rolodex for the last two weeks. I think I could cook for six months and never make the same thing twice once we get there. Travis has no idea how awesome his culinary experience is going to be.
8. I am super aggrivated with the new policy requiring my to lift my sunglasses when entering the gates on Fort Bliss. I do understand the importance of the guards being able to identify persons entering the gates based upon the identification they provide, but lets aim for some consistency, here. According to the guard I spoke with when I finally asked what the purpose was in my doing so, I was told, "The new Colonel doesn't believe we can identify people well enough when they are wearing dark sunglasses." Great. Let me add, my sunglasses are not dark, nor are they an accessory. They are prescription and I need them since I can't legally drive by Braille. It would also be helpful if the guards charged with ensuring the security of one of the world's premiere military installations would actually look at the picture on my ID and my face to see if there is some resemblance there. I would appreciate it if all the guards would follow the same protocol. Some ask them to be lifted, others that they be removed, others don't ask for their removal at all. Consistency, people, that's all I ask.
9. I am disgusted with myself because my goal was to have all my pre-move decrappification done by this point. I have dented it, but am not anywhere near done. I have way too much crap in this house and need to start with a week-long shredding party. I also need to get off my butt and start taking things to the thrift shop again. It gets the stuff out of the house and out of my hair and I make a couple bucks. Win-win. I have two bags of stuff sitting in the family room waiting to go. They've been waiting for two weeks. What's the delay?
10. This is TAKS testing week in Texas. Actually, I think there may have been some tests administered earlier than this week. This is the first week which affects my kids. I hate TAKS testing because the kids get freaked out because the teachers get freaked out because the administrators put the pressure they are handed from the districts on them and all-in-all, the people who lose out are the kids. Testing is necessary and I understand that. But, the benchmarks being tested need to be the benchmarks being taught and at least in Texas, they do not match up. Somehow, someone with an educatonal doctorate somewhere needs to pay attention to that and do something about it.
11. Don't be calling my house warning me that this is TAKS season and that my children need to get enough sleep and eat properly so that they will perform well. Let me say this... You don't need to call my home and tell me that. Maybe you should go to WalMart around 11:30 or midnight and find the kids still wearing their uniforms from your school and talk to their parents while they are purchasing their new plastic spinner rim inserts they so desperately need.
12. I really missed scrapbooking. I went to the Waiting Families scrapping this weekend and although I was going out of my mind because of the crazy going on there, I enjoyed working on my books. I came home from the three hour class and finished one page, then did three more. I need to do this more. I felt relaxed and like I accomplished something.
13. I want more brown fat in my body. Sounds like a good deal.
14. I am getting out my Turbo-Cooker to make dinner for the night. I haven't used my TC for about four years and can't find my recipe cards. Wish me luck.
15. I don't want to clean my kitchen.I guess that's enough for now. Barbara Walters is now talking about men with premature ejaculation on the View right now and I think I need to go puke.
Bleah.
Friday, April 17, 2009
You KNOW Me
Today was the Realtor's agency tour of the house. I don't know how that went, but I do know that as I was driving down the main drag outside our 'hood on the way to the house I saw my Realtor driving in the same direction. Yes, I am certain it was him. He's the only guy around with a red Ford truck and a yellow and green magnet on the side that reads, "Elect Brian Burds- City Council, District 4." He passed me, got in the turn lane at the light and went into our area. I drove down to another street and circled back to the house. Sure enough, an hour after he was to have been done at my house, he was bringing someone back to it with him. I watched them go in from down the street and then went and got a Diet Coke from Whataburger. I don't know what happened, but hey, he's bringing 'em in and that's all I ask. Sooner or later someone is going to be the right person and we can't find them if they aren't walking through my door. Pom-pons, ladies and gentlemen. Wave them high and proud for Brian! Oh, and vote for him- early voting begins April 26.
So, anyway, back to the day's story... I left Phoenix, the 15 year old Husky at home cuz she wont bug nobody that wont bug her. I took the little dogs with me, who will bark when peeps are here. Peeps were on the way and I didn't want them bugging the peeps. As I was pulling out of the neighborhood, I was on the phone with my mother when the other line beeped in. I didn't get switched over in time, but it was Nolan's school. Phone calls from school during the day are rarely wonderful news. He left me a voicemail and as I was listening, I got mad. Crazy-mad. Why? Read on...
Nolan didn't sound great, he sounded very tired and boogery. He said, "Mom, this is Nolan (duh, I know his voice, even if it is boogery). I am in the nurse's office because I think I am getting a cold. She took my tembater and it was 98.7, which isn't a fever. I have a lot of boogers and I- (I hear static on the line, and then the voice changes)" "Ma'am, please call the nurse's office. The number is 434- blah-blah-blah-blah." She didn't know that I know THAT particular number by heart. She got it wrong. That wasn't the problem. She took the phone out of my kids' hand and shut him up.
Here's the deal; if my kid's condition is such that it warrants a call home, fine. I don't mind. He's my kid and when he needs me, I am there. When he is sick, I care for him. If he is boogery, he gets Kleenex and Sudafed and Claratin and whatever else he might need. Regardless of whether or not he picked up his dirty socks, he's going to get what he needs. NO. MATTER. WHAT. But, if his condition does indeed warrant a call home, and you have him make the initial contact (again, fine), then you let the kid say what he is saying. That's all. Just let him talk. If you aren't going to make the call yourself and initiate dialogue adult to adult, then don't take the friggin' phone out of my kid's hand and sigh into the handset and ask me to call you. He was in the middle of a sentence. That is rude by any standard. I work too hard on the kid to have you help him un-learn his manners. As big a pain in the nalgas as he can be, and he can be un pain in the nalgas muy gigante (say it HEE-gahn-tay), he has manners and they are awesome manners. Teachers who have not loved my son have even pointed out that he is most respectful of adults. I want him to stay that way and you aren't helping. I called right back as soon as I heard the message and spoke with the nurse who told me he thought he had a cold. Then she told me that he asked to go home. Now, I knew that was a crock. My kids know if they come home from school sick, they're going to bed. There will be no GameBoys, no Wii, no TV, no books, no Legos, no Magnetix, and no nothin' else except their pillow and blankie on their bed. I don't screw around. I asked to speak with him because I knew his allergy meds (which I was certain was the problem) were at the house, where Brian was with the Realtors and where I couldn't be. I told Nolan he would have to wait until I could get back to the house and he was fine with it. When I asked him if he asked to go home, he denied having asked. He even told me he knew he would have to go to bed and all he wanted was something to help him feel better. What a cow.
I went to the school and had him called to the office so I could give him his allergy medicine. He had reddish eyes and a boogery voice. He took his pill and gave me a hug and when I asked him if the nurse had taken the phone from his hand, he said she did. When I asked him if she was rude to him, he said she wouldn't let him get within five feet of her desk. I had him clarify what that meant and he said that he came in and walked up to her desk to ask for her help and she held her hand up and gestured for him to step back and then she told him he had to stay five feet back from the desk. What the heck? This is an elementary school. ELEMENTARY! Maybe he doesn't want everyone within earshot to hear him request the hurse's help. What if the problem were of a personal nature? Certainly she's heard of the Privacy Act? What a royal cow. Five feet. What is that for? Is she trying to avoid coming in contact with a kid who might have something infectious? Ding, ding, hear the bell, moron, you're a nurse. If she doesnt' want her desk bombarded by kids, then manage the area well. It isn't that hard. It is a school. Most of the attendees are well accustomed to things like line making and the standing therein and the mindboggling practice of shushing when shushed. Cow. COW. COOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWW. Moo.
As I was leaving, I made a request to the receptionist that an administrator call me. I am NOT having some friggin' nurse treat my kid that way. Ever. I never thought I would say it, but I miss Nurse Trudy, who is out of school because she was mauled by dogs. Stupid dogs. Stupid substitute nurse cow.
She is but the next in a long line of people who had to learn the hard way NOT to treat my kids badly.
So, anyway, back to the day's story... I left Phoenix, the 15 year old Husky at home cuz she wont bug nobody that wont bug her. I took the little dogs with me, who will bark when peeps are here. Peeps were on the way and I didn't want them bugging the peeps. As I was pulling out of the neighborhood, I was on the phone with my mother when the other line beeped in. I didn't get switched over in time, but it was Nolan's school. Phone calls from school during the day are rarely wonderful news. He left me a voicemail and as I was listening, I got mad. Crazy-mad. Why? Read on...
Nolan didn't sound great, he sounded very tired and boogery. He said, "Mom, this is Nolan (duh, I know his voice, even if it is boogery). I am in the nurse's office because I think I am getting a cold. She took my tembater and it was 98.7, which isn't a fever. I have a lot of boogers and I- (I hear static on the line, and then the voice changes)" "Ma'am, please call the nurse's office. The number is 434- blah-blah-blah-blah." She didn't know that I know THAT particular number by heart. She got it wrong. That wasn't the problem. She took the phone out of my kids' hand and shut him up.
Here's the deal; if my kid's condition is such that it warrants a call home, fine. I don't mind. He's my kid and when he needs me, I am there. When he is sick, I care for him. If he is boogery, he gets Kleenex and Sudafed and Claratin and whatever else he might need. Regardless of whether or not he picked up his dirty socks, he's going to get what he needs. NO. MATTER. WHAT. But, if his condition does indeed warrant a call home, and you have him make the initial contact (again, fine), then you let the kid say what he is saying. That's all. Just let him talk. If you aren't going to make the call yourself and initiate dialogue adult to adult, then don't take the friggin' phone out of my kid's hand and sigh into the handset and ask me to call you. He was in the middle of a sentence. That is rude by any standard. I work too hard on the kid to have you help him un-learn his manners. As big a pain in the nalgas as he can be, and he can be un pain in the nalgas muy gigante (say it HEE-gahn-tay), he has manners and they are awesome manners. Teachers who have not loved my son have even pointed out that he is most respectful of adults. I want him to stay that way and you aren't helping. I called right back as soon as I heard the message and spoke with the nurse who told me he thought he had a cold. Then she told me that he asked to go home. Now, I knew that was a crock. My kids know if they come home from school sick, they're going to bed. There will be no GameBoys, no Wii, no TV, no books, no Legos, no Magnetix, and no nothin' else except their pillow and blankie on their bed. I don't screw around. I asked to speak with him because I knew his allergy meds (which I was certain was the problem) were at the house, where Brian was with the Realtors and where I couldn't be. I told Nolan he would have to wait until I could get back to the house and he was fine with it. When I asked him if he asked to go home, he denied having asked. He even told me he knew he would have to go to bed and all he wanted was something to help him feel better. What a cow.
I went to the school and had him called to the office so I could give him his allergy medicine. He had reddish eyes and a boogery voice. He took his pill and gave me a hug and when I asked him if the nurse had taken the phone from his hand, he said she did. When I asked him if she was rude to him, he said she wouldn't let him get within five feet of her desk. I had him clarify what that meant and he said that he came in and walked up to her desk to ask for her help and she held her hand up and gestured for him to step back and then she told him he had to stay five feet back from the desk. What the heck? This is an elementary school. ELEMENTARY! Maybe he doesn't want everyone within earshot to hear him request the hurse's help. What if the problem were of a personal nature? Certainly she's heard of the Privacy Act? What a royal cow. Five feet. What is that for? Is she trying to avoid coming in contact with a kid who might have something infectious? Ding, ding, hear the bell, moron, you're a nurse. If she doesnt' want her desk bombarded by kids, then manage the area well. It isn't that hard. It is a school. Most of the attendees are well accustomed to things like line making and the standing therein and the mindboggling practice of shushing when shushed. Cow. COW. COOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWW. Moo.
As I was leaving, I made a request to the receptionist that an administrator call me. I am NOT having some friggin' nurse treat my kid that way. Ever. I never thought I would say it, but I miss Nurse Trudy, who is out of school because she was mauled by dogs. Stupid dogs. Stupid substitute nurse cow.
She is but the next in a long line of people who had to learn the hard way NOT to treat my kids badly.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Genuinely Tiny Knickers
Quick, name that movie!
It was on tonight and Travis and I were texting while Amanda and I were watching it after wrestling and dinner (which was pretty flipping good- schnitzel with an onion pan gravy, noodles [because ALBERTSON'S, of all expensive places, had no boxed spaetzle), green beans and iced tea]). We didn't get to see the worst of Bridget's awkward moments, but the ending has always made me cry. Stupid, I know, but I am a girl and it is a chick flick and that's just that. In the end, her true friends come for her, knowing she's been down and as she's leaving for her surprise trip (a gift from her friends), Mark shows up to tell her he forgot something before he left for New York, so he came back to do it. What? He came back to stick his fricking tongue down Bridget's fricking throat and prove that nice boys do fricking kiss like that.
Of course, me being me, the tears were flowing quite well anyway, but I couldn't make them stop.
Again, we were texting and I had just mentioned that I was having problems sleeping again. *Back-story: I've dealt with sleeping alone pretty regularly for the last 18 years and have had pretty consistent intermittent (I know) trouble getting to sleep and/or staying asleep. I've never taken anything for it, I've just dealt*
Then, it came up that over Christmas, which was the last time we saw each other, I didn't have any problems at all sleeping. That was all the shove I needed to go over the edge. It wasn't a bad over the edge, just a little one, but the impact still leaves a mark.
S-I did pretty well over Christmas with sleeping
T-Hopefully not too much longer
S-I know. Been so long I feel like I might've forgotten how to take care of you
T-Na
S-Just sometimes feels like it (tears flowing freely)
Most days I find myself daydreaming of what my life is going to be like when we do get to move. Seriously, I've been married to the same guy for seventeen years in a row and I still daydream about our life. I hate to call it a perk, but I'm trying to stay positive these days.
Last year, when he found out he was leaving, we were gearing up for triathlon season to hit full-swing. Travis doesn't train quite as much as my nephew or other triathletes do, but he does need to focus on diet- high protien, balanced quality carbs, lots of fruits and veggies to up the O2 in the blood- you get the idea. Then, the orders came and twelve days later he was gone. I am so grateful my mother could come stay with the kids for the nine days I was with him. We drove there and I got him set up in his crap-hole trailer while he inprocessed and in the afternoons, we would go exploring, like we did when we first moved to Kansas and didn't know anything about the place. It was a near-perfect introduction to the place I so desperately want to call home.
In June, the kids and I went there for the beginning of summer vacation and Travis came back with us so we got him for seventeen days. That was fabulous! And again, I fell hard for Columbia. I really do like it there.
He came home again for ten days in September and for thirteen days in December. He left on January 2 to head back. So, since he left, this last four and a half months have been the longest stretch we've gone without seeing each other. Let me just say, it sucks. But, we've gone more than double that without seeing each other in the past. It isn't something I am proud of, just something I know we are capable of doing.
In the last three months, in particular, I've had to really do some work to get myself to sleep. Regular workouts and yoga have been a great help and one would assume with as crazy my schedule is with the kids and the dogs and the house and everything else that I wouldn't have a problem sleeping, but for some reason the more we go the less I seem to sleep. I guess the brain just doesn't slow down well.
I've felt before that we were close on selling, but I've never felt as non-stressed about it. Maybe that is just that I trust we are with the correct Realtor now, Brian. We've already had one viewing and there have been phone calls on the house, tomorrow is the agency's showing to the other agents from their office, next Friday is the Realtors' open house and next Sunday is the general open house. Brian compiled the panoramic virtual tour of the house and that is being loaded to the Centry 21 site as we speak. I am getting emails and phone calls and I hardly know what to do with it all! Never, did we ever, have this much activity during the last contract, practically during the entire six and 3/4 months. Finally, someone gives a crap about my house selling. Everybody shake your pom-pons for Brian- woot, woot!
Tonight, I am going to get off the computer prior to 10:45. I am going to put some peppermint lotion on the feeties with some fuzzy socks, gonna take my last iron pill for the day, gonna turn the TV waaaaaaaaaay down so I have to struggle to hear it (because I can't fall asleep without the TV *AT ALL* when Travis is gone), and snuggle into our bed. Hopefully that will equate with falling asleep and remaining that way for longer than three and a half hours and I will awaken tomorrow feeling refreshed.
Maybe then genuinely tiny knickers wont make me cry.
It was on tonight and Travis and I were texting while Amanda and I were watching it after wrestling and dinner (which was pretty flipping good- schnitzel with an onion pan gravy, noodles [because ALBERTSON'S, of all expensive places, had no boxed spaetzle), green beans and iced tea]). We didn't get to see the worst of Bridget's awkward moments, but the ending has always made me cry. Stupid, I know, but I am a girl and it is a chick flick and that's just that. In the end, her true friends come for her, knowing she's been down and as she's leaving for her surprise trip (a gift from her friends), Mark shows up to tell her he forgot something before he left for New York, so he came back to do it. What? He came back to stick his fricking tongue down Bridget's fricking throat and prove that nice boys do fricking kiss like that.
Of course, me being me, the tears were flowing quite well anyway, but I couldn't make them stop.
Again, we were texting and I had just mentioned that I was having problems sleeping again. *Back-story: I've dealt with sleeping alone pretty regularly for the last 18 years and have had pretty consistent intermittent (I know) trouble getting to sleep and/or staying asleep. I've never taken anything for it, I've just dealt*
Then, it came up that over Christmas, which was the last time we saw each other, I didn't have any problems at all sleeping. That was all the shove I needed to go over the edge. It wasn't a bad over the edge, just a little one, but the impact still leaves a mark.
S-I did pretty well over Christmas with sleeping
T-Hopefully not too much longer
S-I know. Been so long I feel like I might've forgotten how to take care of you
T-Na
S-Just sometimes feels like it (tears flowing freely)
Most days I find myself daydreaming of what my life is going to be like when we do get to move. Seriously, I've been married to the same guy for seventeen years in a row and I still daydream about our life. I hate to call it a perk, but I'm trying to stay positive these days.
Last year, when he found out he was leaving, we were gearing up for triathlon season to hit full-swing. Travis doesn't train quite as much as my nephew or other triathletes do, but he does need to focus on diet- high protien, balanced quality carbs, lots of fruits and veggies to up the O2 in the blood- you get the idea. Then, the orders came and twelve days later he was gone. I am so grateful my mother could come stay with the kids for the nine days I was with him. We drove there and I got him set up in his crap-hole trailer while he inprocessed and in the afternoons, we would go exploring, like we did when we first moved to Kansas and didn't know anything about the place. It was a near-perfect introduction to the place I so desperately want to call home.
In June, the kids and I went there for the beginning of summer vacation and Travis came back with us so we got him for seventeen days. That was fabulous! And again, I fell hard for Columbia. I really do like it there.
He came home again for ten days in September and for thirteen days in December. He left on January 2 to head back. So, since he left, this last four and a half months have been the longest stretch we've gone without seeing each other. Let me just say, it sucks. But, we've gone more than double that without seeing each other in the past. It isn't something I am proud of, just something I know we are capable of doing.
In the last three months, in particular, I've had to really do some work to get myself to sleep. Regular workouts and yoga have been a great help and one would assume with as crazy my schedule is with the kids and the dogs and the house and everything else that I wouldn't have a problem sleeping, but for some reason the more we go the less I seem to sleep. I guess the brain just doesn't slow down well.
I've felt before that we were close on selling, but I've never felt as non-stressed about it. Maybe that is just that I trust we are with the correct Realtor now, Brian. We've already had one viewing and there have been phone calls on the house, tomorrow is the agency's showing to the other agents from their office, next Friday is the Realtors' open house and next Sunday is the general open house. Brian compiled the panoramic virtual tour of the house and that is being loaded to the Centry 21 site as we speak. I am getting emails and phone calls and I hardly know what to do with it all! Never, did we ever, have this much activity during the last contract, practically during the entire six and 3/4 months. Finally, someone gives a crap about my house selling. Everybody shake your pom-pons for Brian- woot, woot!
Tonight, I am going to get off the computer prior to 10:45. I am going to put some peppermint lotion on the feeties with some fuzzy socks, gonna take my last iron pill for the day, gonna turn the TV waaaaaaaaaay down so I have to struggle to hear it (because I can't fall asleep without the TV *AT ALL* when Travis is gone), and snuggle into our bed. Hopefully that will equate with falling asleep and remaining that way for longer than three and a half hours and I will awaken tomorrow feeling refreshed.
Maybe then genuinely tiny knickers wont make me cry.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
My Snoopy
That's one of my Nolan's nicknames. Snoopy. That came about from his newly-found Billy Badass attitude. I started calling him Snoop-No (like Snoop-Dog) and that evolved into Snoopy. Somehow it fits him.
He just turned twelve. He's in the brain-dead phase boys go through. I've heard of it from other moms. I've been able to identify the phase for a while, so I guess it is pretty concrete.Even so, brain-dead or not, he's stlll got so much laying right in front of him.
It is so hard for me to know all that he's been through in twelve years and still fathom that he isn't all that big of a whack job. He's been without his father for more than five years of his life because of our being an Army family. He has had to deal with my illness, which he was too young to grasp at the time, but has felt the ripples of on a regular basis since, to include September's week of ugly testing on me when Travis was gone (and that was ROUGH on him). When he was little he had incredible oozing ears and had to be on daily antibiotics for a year and a half to prevent the ooze and that STILL didn't work. He's had his struggles and he is getting OK. Now.
In November, our folkstyle wrestling season began. I say "our" because I sit through the stupid (not stupid) practices too. Nolan was used to being the athlete of the family, while Amanda was our musician. Well, this was the year the tables turned. She made the cheer squad and then became a wrestler. She dared to tread into his territory. I knew from the start he didn't like it, but he dealt with it. It was hard for him to go from being the team clown to being the team sweetheart's big little brother.
Teachers and coaches have often had a hard time working with Nolan. He isn't the easiest kid with whom to work. It took me a while to figure that out, but basically, he doesn't know what he can do. He doesn't see his own abilities and when coaches see his size and talent, they assume he will perform as they expect. Kids who don't have that confidence in themselves and don't believe they are the winners they really are, will be hard to work with. Thusly, we have Nolan.
Mix with that being the big white kid in a town of small brown people (who we don't mind, even though a lot of them don't like us), and we've got a complex growing.
This really was his year to prove to himself that which he is able to accomplish. I've talked about it before, but tonight was one of those nights that really gets me going.After Nolan broke his foot at nationals a month ago, we took time off for him to heal and for spring break and anther week for attitude adjustment and rest (for me). We went to one practice before for freestyle/Greco during our month of rest, but tonight was really our big return. Nolan's been kind of wishy washy about wrestling or not. He really pushed to do freestyle, even though Coach usually doesn't allow kids under 13 to wrestle freestyle because of the danger in the throws they use. He made an exception for Nolan because he knows Nolan can handle it. He KNOWS that.
Tonight, Nolan was pretty intimidated about going to practice, but I finally figured that if we didn't go tonight, we wouldn't wind up going back. So, go we did. We got there and both kids got their shoes on and headgears out and were getting ready to hit the mats. Nolan talked for a few minutes to Coach and did let on a bit about his fears and reservations. He was genuinely scared about this. He didn't fully want to practice, but he got out there anyway.
He went through the warm-ups and drills and got a kick out of the fact that he is pretty good at the rolls they had to do and his sister can't do them. When man-on-man drills started things got a little hairy. Nolan is the baby of the team now. We had a three year-old on the team for folkstyle all the way up to the fifteen year-olds. Now, Nolan is the youngest, and the next-youngest is Amanda, who had been the oldest during the folk season. Everyone else is older and has more experience. Everyone else has speed and skills. And then, there's my Snoopy.
Nolan, being a big boy, has a hard time sometimes with agility and coordination, so he tends to joke his way through stuff he has difficulties doing. When he cranked that up tonight, the older boys started to gig him on it. They started going at him pretty hard. I didn't mind, I get that he needs people to help drive him on and help him focus. He also needs to be around guys.
He wound up leaving the mats for a bathroom break (which is frowned upon) in the middle of the action. When he came back, he looked me right in the eyes with his hopeless look and on the verge of tears, he told me how hard freestyle was. This practice was so much more intense than folkstyle practice. The kids are going at it really hard and they all take it so seriously. I told him I knew but that the team was waiting on him and he got his mat shoes back on and went back to it.
There's a move I call the Death Spin, which I am sure has a proper name. I don't know much about wrestling other than the wrestlers wear markers which the refs use in scoring, there is a table of people who track scoring, that when the ref holds up two fingers and shifts his hand a certain way he means that that person scored two points, and that when the ref hits the mat with an open hand a pin has occurred. That's it. So, the Death Spin- eek. Basically, the Death Spin is a choke hold thing where when the dominant person gets the submissive in that hold, they crank over to one direction and then force their momentum in the other direction to twist the other person into the Death Spin in order to score and gain more dominance (I think). Nolan was apprehensive and didn't want to do it and I could hear Zack dogging him out for not pushing hard enough. He stuck with it and I think he surprised himself when he finally got it.
Next were a series of takedowns. They were kind of rough, but he managed to get them all. Finally, it happened. I heard him wail. I was only half paying attention because I was listening to songs which matched my crappy mood on my iPod while playing Tetris on my phone. During a takedown, he hit his face on the mat and split his lip open. It isn't actually the pink part of his lip. It is the area just above the actual lips and it was ugly. I knew it might be a problem when I saw him grab his shirt and put it on his lip. Yup, blood. The coach and the big kids got the blood cleany stuff and wiped up the mats where he bled and then Coach got it all under control. Once he was back on the mats Coach reassured me that we did not need to visit "our" room at the E.R. and he confirmed with me that Nolan was indeed scared.
Not long after that, Zack came over and asked me if Nolan was OK. He also asked if I thought he was going too hard on Nolan. I told him that I thought it was OK but that Nolan was intimidated because they were all so much older. Then he asked me how old he was. When I told him he almost dropped his teeth. He thought Nolan and Amanda were the same age. He knew they were siblings but thought they were either twins or less than a year apart, which would make Nolan around 14 in his mind. Then he said it. He told me, "If Nolan is only twelve, then in a year or two, he's going to be a beast. He's gonna be a big, bad, total beast. I'm glad you told me." Our buddy Terry, the Tomster's younger brother, who is fourteen and a beast, said that he thought Nolan would be a beast by the time he was in high school too. I think Nolan didn't take that very seriously.
As we were leaving tonight, two of the other older boys found out Nolan is only twelve. Again, they used the B word in reference to Nolan. They told me they wished they had begun wrestling as young as Nolan and that now it made sense why he handles things on the mat the way he does. They told me how awesome he is for his age, and Nolan heard it.
Instantly he lifted his shoulders a bit. When they boys found out we are trying to get to South Carolina, they told him how big wrestling is there and how awesome he was going to be if he could stick with it. Then his chin lifted a little.
I try really hard to help Nolan in his journey to becoming a man. I'm a girl. Sure, there are thousands of women who raise strong, good men. Travis' mother did, and thank God she did. When Travis is here I feel like Nolan has someone to identify with and model himself after. When he isn't the responsibility is mine. I try not to baby him. I try to hold him responsible for his own actions. I try to teach him about what it means to be a man. I don't know if I always meet the standard in that department, but I will always try.
Tonight, I saw our son take a step in the right direction. He was pretty scared of what might happen on the mat with the older guys. Then, he busted his face. And, scary as that was, he got back on the mat and practiced again. Then, he had the chance to hear from those same older guys that he has real potential for greatness, or beastness, as they put it. He stood up to a real fear, got busted down, got back up and faced it again with a bloody lip. That's the kind of man I want him to be; the kind who stands up to his fears even when they kick his ass and takes them on after they take a piece of him.
It took two hours of sweat, some blood, a pair of rubber gloves, some bleach in a squirt bottle and three sixteen year-olds, but my Snoopy took one more step toward being the kind of man I hope he becomes. He grew in his self-confidence, had to face his fears and I think he learned a little about how hard work will get you further down the road to where you want to be.
He just turned twelve. He's in the brain-dead phase boys go through. I've heard of it from other moms. I've been able to identify the phase for a while, so I guess it is pretty concrete.Even so, brain-dead or not, he's stlll got so much laying right in front of him.
It is so hard for me to know all that he's been through in twelve years and still fathom that he isn't all that big of a whack job. He's been without his father for more than five years of his life because of our being an Army family. He has had to deal with my illness, which he was too young to grasp at the time, but has felt the ripples of on a regular basis since, to include September's week of ugly testing on me when Travis was gone (and that was ROUGH on him). When he was little he had incredible oozing ears and had to be on daily antibiotics for a year and a half to prevent the ooze and that STILL didn't work. He's had his struggles and he is getting OK. Now.
In November, our folkstyle wrestling season began. I say "our" because I sit through the stupid (not stupid) practices too. Nolan was used to being the athlete of the family, while Amanda was our musician. Well, this was the year the tables turned. She made the cheer squad and then became a wrestler. She dared to tread into his territory. I knew from the start he didn't like it, but he dealt with it. It was hard for him to go from being the team clown to being the team sweetheart's big little brother.
Teachers and coaches have often had a hard time working with Nolan. He isn't the easiest kid with whom to work. It took me a while to figure that out, but basically, he doesn't know what he can do. He doesn't see his own abilities and when coaches see his size and talent, they assume he will perform as they expect. Kids who don't have that confidence in themselves and don't believe they are the winners they really are, will be hard to work with. Thusly, we have Nolan.
Mix with that being the big white kid in a town of small brown people (who we don't mind, even though a lot of them don't like us), and we've got a complex growing.
This really was his year to prove to himself that which he is able to accomplish. I've talked about it before, but tonight was one of those nights that really gets me going.After Nolan broke his foot at nationals a month ago, we took time off for him to heal and for spring break and anther week for attitude adjustment and rest (for me). We went to one practice before for freestyle/Greco during our month of rest, but tonight was really our big return. Nolan's been kind of wishy washy about wrestling or not. He really pushed to do freestyle, even though Coach usually doesn't allow kids under 13 to wrestle freestyle because of the danger in the throws they use. He made an exception for Nolan because he knows Nolan can handle it. He KNOWS that.
Tonight, Nolan was pretty intimidated about going to practice, but I finally figured that if we didn't go tonight, we wouldn't wind up going back. So, go we did. We got there and both kids got their shoes on and headgears out and were getting ready to hit the mats. Nolan talked for a few minutes to Coach and did let on a bit about his fears and reservations. He was genuinely scared about this. He didn't fully want to practice, but he got out there anyway.
He went through the warm-ups and drills and got a kick out of the fact that he is pretty good at the rolls they had to do and his sister can't do them. When man-on-man drills started things got a little hairy. Nolan is the baby of the team now. We had a three year-old on the team for folkstyle all the way up to the fifteen year-olds. Now, Nolan is the youngest, and the next-youngest is Amanda, who had been the oldest during the folk season. Everyone else is older and has more experience. Everyone else has speed and skills. And then, there's my Snoopy.
Nolan, being a big boy, has a hard time sometimes with agility and coordination, so he tends to joke his way through stuff he has difficulties doing. When he cranked that up tonight, the older boys started to gig him on it. They started going at him pretty hard. I didn't mind, I get that he needs people to help drive him on and help him focus. He also needs to be around guys.
He wound up leaving the mats for a bathroom break (which is frowned upon) in the middle of the action. When he came back, he looked me right in the eyes with his hopeless look and on the verge of tears, he told me how hard freestyle was. This practice was so much more intense than folkstyle practice. The kids are going at it really hard and they all take it so seriously. I told him I knew but that the team was waiting on him and he got his mat shoes back on and went back to it.
There's a move I call the Death Spin, which I am sure has a proper name. I don't know much about wrestling other than the wrestlers wear markers which the refs use in scoring, there is a table of people who track scoring, that when the ref holds up two fingers and shifts his hand a certain way he means that that person scored two points, and that when the ref hits the mat with an open hand a pin has occurred. That's it. So, the Death Spin- eek. Basically, the Death Spin is a choke hold thing where when the dominant person gets the submissive in that hold, they crank over to one direction and then force their momentum in the other direction to twist the other person into the Death Spin in order to score and gain more dominance (I think). Nolan was apprehensive and didn't want to do it and I could hear Zack dogging him out for not pushing hard enough. He stuck with it and I think he surprised himself when he finally got it.
Next were a series of takedowns. They were kind of rough, but he managed to get them all. Finally, it happened. I heard him wail. I was only half paying attention because I was listening to songs which matched my crappy mood on my iPod while playing Tetris on my phone. During a takedown, he hit his face on the mat and split his lip open. It isn't actually the pink part of his lip. It is the area just above the actual lips and it was ugly. I knew it might be a problem when I saw him grab his shirt and put it on his lip. Yup, blood. The coach and the big kids got the blood cleany stuff and wiped up the mats where he bled and then Coach got it all under control. Once he was back on the mats Coach reassured me that we did not need to visit "our" room at the E.R. and he confirmed with me that Nolan was indeed scared.
Not long after that, Zack came over and asked me if Nolan was OK. He also asked if I thought he was going too hard on Nolan. I told him that I thought it was OK but that Nolan was intimidated because they were all so much older. Then he asked me how old he was. When I told him he almost dropped his teeth. He thought Nolan and Amanda were the same age. He knew they were siblings but thought they were either twins or less than a year apart, which would make Nolan around 14 in his mind. Then he said it. He told me, "If Nolan is only twelve, then in a year or two, he's going to be a beast. He's gonna be a big, bad, total beast. I'm glad you told me." Our buddy Terry, the Tomster's younger brother, who is fourteen and a beast, said that he thought Nolan would be a beast by the time he was in high school too. I think Nolan didn't take that very seriously.
As we were leaving tonight, two of the other older boys found out Nolan is only twelve. Again, they used the B word in reference to Nolan. They told me they wished they had begun wrestling as young as Nolan and that now it made sense why he handles things on the mat the way he does. They told me how awesome he is for his age, and Nolan heard it.
Instantly he lifted his shoulders a bit. When they boys found out we are trying to get to South Carolina, they told him how big wrestling is there and how awesome he was going to be if he could stick with it. Then his chin lifted a little.
I try really hard to help Nolan in his journey to becoming a man. I'm a girl. Sure, there are thousands of women who raise strong, good men. Travis' mother did, and thank God she did. When Travis is here I feel like Nolan has someone to identify with and model himself after. When he isn't the responsibility is mine. I try not to baby him. I try to hold him responsible for his own actions. I try to teach him about what it means to be a man. I don't know if I always meet the standard in that department, but I will always try.
Tonight, I saw our son take a step in the right direction. He was pretty scared of what might happen on the mat with the older guys. Then, he busted his face. And, scary as that was, he got back on the mat and practiced again. Then, he had the chance to hear from those same older guys that he has real potential for greatness, or beastness, as they put it. He stood up to a real fear, got busted down, got back up and faced it again with a bloody lip. That's the kind of man I want him to be; the kind who stands up to his fears even when they kick his ass and takes them on after they take a piece of him.
It took two hours of sweat, some blood, a pair of rubber gloves, some bleach in a squirt bottle and three sixteen year-olds, but my Snoopy took one more step toward being the kind of man I hope he becomes. He grew in his self-confidence, had to face his fears and I think he learned a little about how hard work will get you further down the road to where you want to be.
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