Well That School is OFF the List!

So, D1 and I made it through the 1st high school open house last night. Barely. Our town has 3 high schools and it’s open enrollment so she can choose where she wants to go.

She’s pretty sure which one she wants to choose because of their amazing band program, but we thought we’d check out the one that’s closer to our house anyway. A lot of her friends are going there so she hadn’t ruled it out completely.

Now she has!

The first speaker of the night started off with the attendance, graduation requirements and how the number of credits required  was increasing. Not a problem. She’s a great student and hates to miss days or classes because she doesn’t like to get behind. Got that one covered.

The 2nd guy got up and started talking about attendance, friendship issues and “girl drama”. I’ve been there, I know how much high school girls can suck but I also know boys can be real jackasses too! They’re nothing but walking penis’ at that age, making obscene comments and gestures. But, NOOO, let’s spend 10 minutes talking about girl drama and how horrible they are to make them all feel really welcome in their new school. Just not feeling the love at this point.

The 3rd guy got up next (are there no women in this school??) and he’s the “resource officer”. He gives some testosterone filled “I’m a cop first” speech with his chest so puffed out a woman in the first row may have been chewing on his nipple.

Sure I might be biased because I know his daughter – she was in 1st/2nd grade with D2 and she’s a pain in the ass, but nah, even if his daughter was an angel, this guy sucked the big one too.

We left the auditorium with a big old black clouds hanging over us and the kids took off to do a scavenger hunt around the school.

About 20 minutes later my kiddo comes to find me. She didn’t look great. She said there were nuts in the spanish classroom – hazelnuts which are the ones she’s most allergic to – and in the chocolates in the gym and I think in another room. Maybe the home ec. room or somewhere. She’s very allergic to tree  nuts!!!!

Her throat was getting scratchy and she didn’t feel well.

Of course being the quality mother that I am, I hadn’t brought any Benadryl. We were just going to an open house, why would she need it? She’s never been quite that sensitive before but she said she may have touched something and gotten it on her hands then rubbed her eyes or something. I’m not sure what the whole story was.

We got the hell out of there, ignored the freezing rain on the windshield and broke speed records home. We got Benadryl in her and didn’t have to use an Epi pen so that was good. A few minutes later we looked at each other and said, “well that school’s out!”

Really, what the hell? What kind of school in this day and age fills their rooms full of nuts? It’s a good thing her friend wasn’t there because he’s much more sensitive than she is. I’m not a proponent of eliminating pb&j’s and that kind of stuff from schools but I am a fan of the common sense approach. Or at least the pull your head out your ass approach.

These people have no idea about the kids are touring their rooms last night.  As if the gloom and doom 3 musketeers weren’t bad enough. Let’s throw in a few allergens to really convince these kids to pick their school. Is it a survival of the fittest kind of place?

I had such a great conversation with a woman at the other high school yesterday. She was way beyond helpful and happy to make the whole process easier for us. She was so positive I wanted to have D1 skip the rest of 8th grade and jump right into her freshman year today.

And if I needed more reasons to go the route we were thinking, they gave them to me last night! Bastards!

The Evolution of Parenting

You know how you’re going along in life doing the parenting thing, your kids are tiny and easily controlled, then one day you set your little one down and they crawl away from you? It’s a little bit of a shock but even as they find a some independence, they always come back to you. You are MOM – they are always aware of where you are and seek you out. Their world expands just a little but you are still at the center.

Then they hit kindergarten and you have a little less input into their days. They come home mouthy because that’s how they heard their friend talk to her mom. But still, you can help in the classroom and get to know their friends and teachers. You’re still very involved. They want you to walk them to their lines in the morning. You get to kiss and hug them as you say good-bye  - even in front of their friends.

It changes a bit as they travel through elementary school but you are still involved. My 5th grader won’t call me to bring in forgotten homework because her teacher has a rule that if she does, she has to kiss and hug me in the classroom. She’d rather take the zero. It cracks me up even though she used to be my cuddly one. I’m half tempted to hide her homework so she has to call. She still smiles when she sees me in the hall though so I take that as a good sign.

Elementary is cake, then middle school comes along and you’re no longer welcome in the classroom. Forget any sort of long good-bye when you drop them off. I was told by the principal at the parent open house for 6th grade that close to 90% of the students go through puberty in those 3 years. School is a hormonal cesspool best avoided!

I’ve been through all that with my oldest and am happy to say we’ve survived it so far. But…..tonight we have the first HIGH SCHOOL open house. Holy Mother of God, I’m going to be the parent of a high school student!!

This is a  new phase for both of us and I think I’m more nervous than she is. I’m excited for me because I wasn’t sure I’d still be here for her at this point. I’m excited for her because I know she’s more than ready to brave this next step.

But, I also remember all too well what it’s like to be in high school. Those weren’t my favorite years. I sure hope it’s easier on this side of the equation but I suspect it won’t be! I hope it’s easier for her than it was for me. I think it will be.

She has a security in herself that I never had. She knows who she is better than I did. I’m proud of her, nervous for her, excited for her and more than a little scared shitless for me.

She’s still my baby dammit, even if she is almost as tall as I am.

Dude, That’s Just Not Right!

There seems to be a pattern in my life where I whine about things like sleepless nights then something happens to remind me how very lucky I am, and that there’s always somebody who struggles more than I do. We may not know it when we see them, but they’re out there.

I help in D3′s class at the end of the day on Fridays and last week while we were waiting for D2 to get out of school we decided to check out the “giving tree” by the office. It’s a tree like you see all over this time of year where you can choose gifts to buy for families in need.

Every year, we each pick a gift. I pick a mom and one for SG and the girls always pick kids about their age and we make an evening of shopping for them. I think it’s good that they see how fortunate we are and how good it feels to do something for somebody else. To make sure that other kids get their holiday wishes granted.

We usually spend some time and look through all of the requests to see what we want to buy. In the past it’s been toys, slippers, sleds, that kind of thing.  But this year, among the little slips asking for teddy bears and legos, were requests for toothpaste, shampoo and toilet paper. Basic purchases that we take for granted but that, in this economy, others might need to put off when it’s hard enough to afford food.

 There were 2 boys D2′s age that were looking at the same time we were and one of them saw the toothpaste and was just as saddened. He looked at his friend and said “Dude, that’s not right! People should have that kind of stuff”. D3 looked at me and said, “He’s right Mom, they should!” I couldn’t agree more!

The requests are completely anonymous but they are all from our school. They are our neighbors and our children’s classmates. People we see at school functions and have no idea what they’re going through. It was another wake up call that unless you are living in their house, walking in their shoes, you just don’t know what the person standing next to you may be facing.

My choice this year was a mom who asked for gel inserts for her shoes. I always make sure a mom gets something because we all know they are the first to give up gifts so their children can have something. I picked up some comfy fuzzy socks and some good foot lotions to go with them. Given my year of chemo feet, I can appreciate how important it is to be comfortable. 

I think we’ll also do a basket of basics like toothpaste and take it to the family resource center at school. I know that’s a place where people feel safe asking for help – they’re the ones who organize the tree. Maybe some who didn’t ask for the basics will feel ok about taking some if they’re available.

If you can afford it, please find a giving tree in your area. Or find a local food bank and donate anything you can no matter how small. Even a canned good or two add up if enough people contribute.

And if you need help, please ask. I know asking is hard, I personally suck at it but people are out there who want to do it. Let them.

Let The Baking Begin

Image via Wikipedia

I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned that I bake when I’m nervous. If not, I do. This year it’s going to work out nicely though because my scan next week coincides with the holiday baking rush. The more nervous I am, the higher quantity of goodies.

Yesterday it was Irish Lace Cookies and this morning I have a huge pan of fudge cooling. My oldest has an All City Winds ensemble concert tonight and both her band directors will be there as well as D2′s band director so it seemed like a good night to get things started.

I have a feeling everybody we know will be getting plates of cookies, fudge, breads,etc. Maybe more than one because my side still hurts and my dog (who has a nose for cancer) has taken to following me from room to room and sitting by my chair. She’s going to drive me insane.

Since I won’t be getting my scan results until the 21st, I can only assume everyone around me can plan on gaining several pounds the next 3 weeks. Do you all want to go ahead and forward me your addresses?

If only the nervousness translated into getting out holiday cards. I suck at that.

Selective Privacy

I got a friend request on Facebook this morning and deleted it. It was someone I’d already unfriended months ago. She’s good friends with a relative of mine and I felt like it was more of a voyeuristic request than an actual friend request.

I’ve gotten requests from this cousin and several of her close friends and I’ve ignored them all. I won’t go into the whole family drama but suffice it to say we aren’t close. Our mothers hate each other yet she once wrote my mom a letter asking for pictures of all her grandchildren. Weird right?

It’s easiest to avoid all contact yet they kind of don’t. I have enough to deal with without adding her or her mother to my friends list.

But it made me kind of laugh at myself. Yesterday’s post was a little soul baring and here I am worrying about FB privacy. Maybe it stems from the fact that I post pictures of my children there – with access only to “friends” – and fool myself into thinking they’re inaccessible to “friends of friends” or the general public. It’s my little bit of denial, don’t enlighten me. Allow me to pretend.

Yet here, I say it all. I don’t post pics of my girls but anybody who knows the details of my life at all would probably recognize me in my posts. I guess it’s because here it’s mostly about me. It’s my online therapy filled with things I don’t put in my status updates. Can you imagine Donut porn and Darkest Hours in 10 words or less? I’d end up on Lamebook!

It also made me question the number of FB friends I currently have and who they are. How many of them do I actually interact with and how many fall under the “I think I remember that name from 25 years ago” category?

I think I may do some house cleaning of that list today. Maybe I should make it a nice little group of select friends. The ones who actually care if I post that it’s scan day and eliminate those who are just spying? I’m going to give it some thought.

What do you all do? Is your list limited to the people you would actually enjoy having lunch with or do you need to do a little cleaning yourself?

By the way, what’s up with the people who try to refriend you months after you delete them? Are they just old like me and can’t remember who they already friended?

Social networking sites may be an easy way to spy on me but that doesn’t mean I have to send them an engraved invitation. Just like I haven’t shared with all of you that my real name is Amanda and I live in Salt Lake City. Or do I?

However, I do know that this blog and all of you are much cheaper than a therapist. I slept like a baby last night – no 2am-4am wakeup.

Coincidence?

The Darkest Hours

I hate the time between 2:00am & 4:00 am. It’s time I’m most alone with my thoughts and my mind is all too often a very dark and lonely place.

It started with my first surgery. When even the halls of the surgical floor were quiet. It was the time I paced those silent halls, hooked up to my IV, often in search of chocolate milk. It was when sleep eluded me and my brain went to places I didn’t want it to go.

It still is.

It’s the time when I listen to my family sleep. When I can identify the breathing of each of my children from across the hall and wonder why God gave them to me, even an extra unplanned one, only to take me away from them too soon.

It’s when I want so much to join them in their slumber. To escape into their youthful dreams. It’s when I reach for Science Guy’s hand and he holds me even in his sleep. He knows that there’s no pulling me back. He’s tried. So he sleeps, and I listen.

Early on it was the time when I’d go into the bathroom, put my head in my hands and cry – hoping that no one could hear me. I would wake from a dream where I was healthy then be hit with the reality of cancer all over again. Night time’s cruel joke. 

It’s the time when I run my hands over my belly like I did when I was pregnant –  enjoying the feel of my children inside of me and safe. Only now I’m feeling for bumps that aren’t comforting, that don’t give me peace. The telltale signs my latest drugs have stopped working.

Mostly it’s when the exhaustion of putting on a brave face during the day makes it impossible to pretend any more. I’m not brave. I’m not strong. I’m not able to beat this thing with the power of positive thinking. It’s when I’m most afraid.

But then some time during that darkness, it all starts to fade and I’ll move closer to that amazing man I married and I’ll let go. I’ll find that safe place in my mind that allows me to go back to sleep. Comforted by the presence next to me that exudes life and pulls me back.

I will wake up to the early morning sun and the sounds of my family and be grateful I’m still here. In the light of day I’m stronger. More able to deal with the unknown. Braver.

Until the night.