Of Course I'm Perfect: Part 1

The campground is waking up around me. Some wake up slowly, with whispers that I can doze through. Some are still asleep and nothing stirs at their place. I propose that they are people without children, or dogs, because the families with kids and dogs come with moms who yell, “Stop IT!” to the dog (oh, how effective that is, listen, he's STILL barking) and “Don't touch that to the kid!” (who gets that phrase repeated to him over and over and over again – much like the barking dog gets his phrase). Ineffective parenting bugs the crap out of me. Yes, I'm a perfect parent.

Ok, I'm not. I am, however, a parent who is observant, and since there's a lot of bad parenting all around, there are plenty of counter-examples to avoid, if one just observes how NOT to do it.

Don't tell a kid that, “If you ______ , then I'll________ ,” unless you really, truly mean it. The first time you don't follow through is like poking a tiny hole in a balloon and pretty much all your credibility is drained out in a few short encounters. “Well, she doesn't usually, actually _______ so I think it's worth the risk.”

Don't give kids treats to shut them up. “Ok, fine, have another ice-cream sandwich, just let me talk to ___________ on the phone and don't come in here again!” However, I'm all for a bribe. “IF you can leave me alone for ten minutes, and you sweep the kitchen and take out the trash, THEN you can have another one.” I'm not heartless, nor the sugar police, just trying to keep it real. And get my kitchen swept.

Listen to your kids. Don't tell them, “I'll talk to you later, right now I'm...” If they're actually wanting to talk, don't miss it. Wish I'd learned this one sooner.

Yes, it's really 2:30 am MST. Insomnia sucks. So does my writing at this hour, but I haven't posted in a week and so I'm back to the paranoia of people forgetting me...bad blogging...bad parenting...both bad...good-night.

What's your biggest parenting blunder? Willing to share? I'll share mine tomorrow when I can think more clearly.  You can probably tell right away where the part I wrote while camping ends and the part I wrote in the middle of the night takes over...

SkinnyBoy: You Is Kind, You is smart. You is important.

Feeling blue. SkinnyBoy has moved to Florida. As in our chances of crossing paths again are as slim as he is.

He used to be our neighbor, lived four houses away. He spent as much time at our house as he was allowed, which was pretty much 24/7 in the summers, and during the school year, he'd show up for our carpool almost an hour early to “hang out, I was ready for school.” I fed him breakfast. Made sure he had lunch money or packed him a lunch. His Dad had lost his job even before the Great Recession hit. I know things were tough at his house for a multitude of reasons, so we did what we could to help, though direct help was completely refused. Out of respect for him, let's just leave all that there.

After I dropped him at his house on school days, with his over-stuffed back-pack and french horn, he'd shut the door with a, “See you in a minute!” and would be back at our house almost before I could turn the car around and hit our driveway. He stayed for dinner a lot. Eventually of course he had to go home to do his homework, but so did my boys. Worked out great. Just for reference, my boys are 2 ½ years apart, he's right between them age-wise. He and I share a birthday. With Obama. And Best :-)

I love this boy. A boy of integrity, great work ethic, always cleaned up his dishes and offered to do chores. We pay for chores around here, don't believe in “allowance”. There are of course some “because you live here” chores which don't pay (dishes, laundry, trash, recycling, vacuuming, sweeping) but others do. He did a lot of those. Loving video games as much as my boys, he did those to make any spending “frivolously” possible, I'm sure.

Two years ago they lost their house and moved across town to a rental duplex. That didn't stop our boys who have bikes, he'd just ride over here and knock, just as if he'd run down the hill. Friendship continued almost interrupted.

A month ago he began preparing us all. “My Dad is maybe getting a job in Florida.” Wow. Job great. Florida not so much. Dad got job. He came over to say goodbye while I was in Texas. I didn't get to give that skinny little body one more hug. I didn't get to tell him, one more time, my version of this quote from The Help as Aibileen did Mae Mobley, “You is kind, you is smart. You is important.”

I asked him once why he liked being over here so much. “You're always happy to see me, I know you love me, and it feels really nice to be here.” Hold on to that thought dear boy as your life is about to change. May you find another family that makes you feel that way. Good bye, SkinnyBoy. Good bye.

MMM: Monday Movie Meme @ Nicole's Place, The Madlab Post: Polling the Jury

I love Mondays. It's nice to know that there's a prompt waiting for me, a meme that will welcome me (and you, should you choose), and that folks will be dropping by. I kinda want some folks to drop by. I took an accidental nine day blogcation and I'm of course paranoid that everyone, all 387 of you, will have forgotten me. Sigh.

Nicole has given us a great topic for today: Polling the Jury. Check out her post for the full scoop, meanwhile, these are the movies I've chosen that have voting in them. (It doesn't have to be a political vote – just something where votes count.)

A Time To Kill

I immediately thought of one of my favorite movies, and NO, it's not because it was Matthew McConaughey's break-out movie, though hubba hubba I'll check out those flat-front khakis and all that sexy Mississippi sweat any time. I love this movie because of the relationships between Jake and those around him. He has a mentor, a funny buddy, an assistant who provides some amazing chemical tension while the wife is tucked away safely, a worthy adversary in the slimy DA (I do love me some Kevin Spacey, I will admit), and a client who couldn't be further out of his social network. It all works. There are parts of the movie that are very hard to watch, and it's R+ if you'd asked me to rate it, but wow, it's good. Oh yeah, the voting. The jury votes guilty or not guilty.

Election

Unlike my previous selection which I've watched multiple times, this one I've only seen once, but it must have made some impact because as I was pondering voting movies, it immediately came to mind. Probably because I'm a big fan of Reese Witherspoon. It was made in 1999, and has some other great actors who are still around (Matthew Broderick, for example). It's about a high school class presidential election, and I love any description of a movie that ends with, “Chaos ensues.” It's a favorite phrase of mine. Give it a try.  Both the phrase and the movie.

I think I'll leave it at two movies today. Got blogs to visit. My road-trip car has been parked at the same campsite for over two weeks now...(see button in sidebar if you don't know what I'm talking about).

What election movies did you find recommendable? Have you seen these two? How ya' been? I've been missing you and itching to blog/write/visit, etc. It's just this pesky thing called family responsibilities and priorities of life that keep getting in the way...how do you handle those when the blogosphere's siren song is calling your name?

Smackdown: Chili's vs. TSA

Place your bets, ladies and gents. Who do you think is more likely to let you accomplish what you're attempting to, but without your ID? The Transportation Safety Administration of these United States, or a restaurant?

Betting is now closed.

I recently flew stand-by, which is a sad tale of woe no one wants to hear. The point is that I did finally, finally, finally, after two asthma attacks and my subsequent frightening of pilots (my grey appearance and completely soaked-in-sweat body, coupled with the wheezing and inhaler apparently isn't the norm around jetways)got on a plane to my layover destination. However, I got on that plane without my wallet. Which had my ID. Of course I did not know that at that time.

I arrive at Houston International, sit down at the Chili's, chosen from a wide variety of options because it serves a damn good margarita, and I'm planning on a nice dinner, beverage, book, relaxation. I have three hours until I hop on the puddle-jumper to The Sticks, a plane that is booked half-full so my odds are good I'm getting on it. In other words, I think that my hellish day is over. I hate it when I'm wrong.

“May I see your ID please?” I've spent the day at DIA. I've been to two different bars there (I guess you are getting some of the stand-by story...sheesh, I should have packed my BREVITY card...) and I know full well that it's policy to card EVERYONE. I reach for my wallet. It's not there. I panic, I search; kind man next to me allows me the use of the bar space in front of him to literally dump out my entire purse and laptop bag. No wallet.

Maybe my ID is still somewhere tucked with my boarding passes (I had amassed a collection). Nope. Maybe it's in my roller bag, which I was forced to check at the gate which caused me a mad scramble of re-arranging items. Perhaps during a three hour lay-over, they'd be able to retrieve the bag, probably already sitting at the terminal, waiting to be loaded onto my tiny plane. I have hope.

However, the I-Have-A-Problem-With-My-Luggage Office is downstairs, near, baggage claim. I'm not saying that they've chosen a bad place for said office, it's just that it's OUTSIDE SECURITY WHICH I WOULD THEN HAVE TO GO BACK THROUGH WITHOUT AN ID. I'm not stupid, though by this time I will admit to being completely wiped out from travel, and asthma and my blood-sugar is dropping, so I ask for advice. From the supervisor of the entire TSA team. He says that getting back through security will not be a problem because, “Robert's gonna come with ya' honey, it'll be fine.”

I take this to mean I'll be escorted, and the magic gates opened, and I'll waltz right back through, like an employee. I hate being wrong, did I mention that?

Turns out that pulling the bag would “take a minimum of four hours ma'am” so I head off into the sunset, just looking for a margarita. I'm willing to skip dinner at this point since I only found a ten in my purse. I have priorities.  They are at this point TEQUILA.

An hour later, after being interrogated by the “good” cop and the “bad” cop, a phone call to some mysterious office, where questions to prove my identity were generated, and then my providing the correct answers to these questions, I am through security. Robert (big surprise!) mislead me. No VIP escort.

Back to Chili's. May I see your ID? “I'm sorry, it's our policy to card everyone. I can't serve you anything without an ID.”

Sigh.  I love traveling.  I hate stupid rules.

P.S. Don't worry. The Engineer overnighted me my passport so I'm good to go home tomorrow.  You've been hearing this all week, but I WILL respond to comments on Monday.  Thanks for sticking with me.

T.

WWCD: What Would Campers Do? Part 2

You need to read yesterday's post first. I'll wait right here. 

We decided to help. Clad in our pajamas, carrying only a flashlight, we set off in the direction of the trouble. It was by then about 4:30 AM.

We arrive on the scene, which is at a private residence between the campground and the road. The Engineer turns the flashlight on, shining it directly at the scene, as if to show that cops have arrived. A blonde woman appears, sees us, and at first she's angry, “What are you doing here?”

We say, “We heard you scream for help, so we came to help.” She collapses on me, in tears, and starts to explain the situation. “I want to leave, they won't let me, they've taken my keys.” She swears she hasn't had a a cocktail in two hours and is fine. I'm thinking to myself, “All evidence to the contrary, ma'am.”

Pretty soon another woman joins us. Let's call her “the wife”. She's somehow even drunker and she's alternating between, “I love you, how sweet of you to help!” to me and The Engineer, to screaming at her friend, “We're just trying to help you! You shouldn't drive!” I try to reason with them and offer a solution. You've tried reasoning with drunks, right? Fairly pointless. The Blonde can come sleep in our car (it's a 12 passenger van) and in the morning, we will give her the keys and she can leave. No takers.

Of course The Engineer, who is a reasonable man, realizes there is no reasoning with drunks (of any gender) and has taken the time to assess the situation while I've been trying to get “the story” from “the wife” and “the blonde”. Suddenly no one wants to talk, because out comes “the son”. He's all of maybe 24, scrawny, and you guessed it, drunk. He is full of crap and claims to own all the property surrounding “this house” and and “over there”, and “over there too”, and we have 5 minutes to leave his property. He starts counting down backwards from 4:59, 4:58 and staggers back to the house. I'm not paying much attention to that, because I have “the blonde” still in my face asking for help. However, she's switched to, “Why didn't anyone come help me, I've been honking this horn for two hours?” Um, yes, and once you screamed “help” we came. That doesn't seem to register with her. “Society sucks.” It sure does, ma'am. It sure does.

The Engineer says to “the wife”, “You have two choices here: give me the keys and we'll take her to our place or I'll just call the police and they can straighten this out.”

The blonde: “Yes! I want to press kidnapping charges!”

The wife: “No, I just got out of prison last week!”

Now here comes “the son” with a big stick. We don't bother to listen to how far he's gotten in his countdown, The Engineer just takes my hand and says, “We're getting off your property now and we're calling the police.”

On our walk back to the campground, we meet another man who has come to help. We join forces and head for the campground host, who surely must have some sort of communication capabilities. How could he effectively administer his hosting duties if he couldn't summon professional help if needed? You'd think so, right?

He has no communication system, but we do learn that there's an emergency call box a mile down the road, which is a far better solution than driving down the canyon until we find reception (probably about a 45 minute jaunt). Our new companion volunteers to wait at the “T” that send the cars either to the campground, or to “dueling banjo country”, and to show the cops where this whole fun incident is taking place. By the way, as we're walking back to our campsite, we're hearing more car-horn, more yelling. Sigh.

We find the call box. Have you ever used one? It has one button, which dials 911, and then after two minutes, hangs up. We had to call back four times.

Boulder County Sheriff Joe stops by our campsite to get a brief, um, briefing, and heads off to meet his partner who has already approached the property.

Joe, the sheriff, and former marine, stops back by our place after having assessed the situation. He says, “We're not doing anything now because they're all too drunk to talk to, but I'm going back around 2:00 this afternoon and will have a talk with them then. As he leaves, he adds, “Next time, your first action is 911. Never approach anyone on private property, especially in a situation this volatile.” The Engineer can't help but defend our actions with, “I delivered pizza for many years. I've seen it all. I wasn't worried.” Joe smiles and says, “Oh, so you're a combat veteran. That makes sense.”

What would you have done? And at what point? Is it weird that no one else except the three of us were concerned when a woman was screaming for help?   

P.S Still on vacation.  Thanks for your comments.  I'm really interested in how you would have handled this situation.  I promise to respond to all comments when I return on Monday.

WWCD: What Would Campers Do? Part 1

What would you do?

We did the wrong thing, but I think I'd do it again, if I didn't know what I know now.

The Engineer and I are camping without kids, 20^th anniversary trip. 3:15 am, I am awakened. At first I think it's because I need to use the bathroom. Soon it becomes very apparent that it's a car horn that woke me up, being used as a signal of some sort. Sometimes one long, sustained, minutes long sound, then silence for, oh just about enough time to almost fall asleep. Then it's a staccato, repeated over and over, for several minutes, and next, maybe 15 minutes of silence. Repeat cycle, yet with various, um, variations. Symphonic movements, if you will. Obviously, someone wants attention, but who? And why? And what, if anything, should we do?

We choose trying to go back to sleep, but that's impossible. Instead, The Engineer and I are discussing what might be happening, and what, if anything, we should do. Analyzing.

We don't think it's coming from somewhere in our campground, because we're on the road edge in the most secluded loop. Instead, it seems to be coming from the road, because we can hear cars driving by where we hear the ruckus. We know that there's no cell-phone service. Stranded motorists usually try to flag down a vehicle. They don't sit at the side of the road and honk. At least not sane ones, but we'll get to that later.

Soon the yelling starts. Drunk voices yelling unpleasant things, peppered with the F-bomb. Listening, (how can we not – we can hear them as if they're in the campsite next to ours!) it soon becomes very clear that it's some sort of “domestic dispute”. There are certain phrases that make that obvious. We feel a bit relieved in the decision making department, because that's the sort of business that's out of our control and we're not cops.

Suddenly, there's no more horn, instead, just a woman screaming, “Helpmehelpmehelpme won't ANYONE come and help me!”

Decision time, what would you do? I'll let you know what we did and how it turned out in my post tomorrow.

P.S Coming to you from The Sticks, TX.  Thank you McDonald's for the internet.  I'll be home Monday and respond to comments then.  

MMM: Monday Movie Meme @ Nicole's Place, The Madlab Post

I'm totally loving Nicole's MMM: Monday Movie Meme. Especially since I keep kicking ass in the scramble games (Fridays at the A-Z Blog) and get to choose the topic for MMM. Last time I picked it was “uncomfortable dinner scenes.” Today I picked HUGE plot twists at the end. Gotta tell you, I'm totally torn between revealing the plot twist (because these are by no means new movies so it's not like the news isn't out there...) but as someone who records football games and answers the phone with, “Don't mention ANYTHING ABOUT THE BRONCO GAME, hello?” I also want to honor those who might have passed these up for various reasons. So OK, my post will have no spoilers. I will try to tantalize you into watching these. If you dare...they're not all scary, but the plot twists are of the goose-bumps variety.

The first movie that blew me away with the ending was “The Usual Suspects”.

Don't click on that link unless you're willing to perhaps see some spoilers!

My next choice is "The Sixth Sense."  (Remember?  To avoid spoilers, no clicking!)  I don't do horror. I don't do scary. I don't do scary movies with kids. However, I do like Haley Joel Osment. Bruce Willis is on my top five list. So I decided to watch it. So glad I did. It's worth the pay-off, which some say they saw coming, but I sure didn't. Watch it.

Not to get stuck on one director (though he is a favorite) I will pick as my third entry, “Signs”.   Like I've said before, I don't do horror, but this movie defies categorization. It's many genres at once, and one of the most powerful films I've seen.  M. Night does an absolutely masterful job of scaring the bejeebies out of us without showing us a thing. That takes skill. Lots of Hollywood types can make monsters which live in your nightmares (Aliens for example).  Lots of folks can scare you with the “just in the nick of time escape”. But to keep me spellbound for two hours wondering if it's all in his head or is it real takes some serious skill. He has them. See the movie.

And I'm off. Heading to the The Sticks, TX, to spend a week with a friend, and though I know her house has cell reception (and hence email) I do not know how many G's she's got, so I unless during my five hour layover in Houston I get a bunch of posts in the hopper, I'll have to catch up with you later. Hope you're having a great summer.

T.