Archive for the ‘Randomosity’ Category

For all of you parents whose kids – like mine – are pleading that hey get a gaming system finally omg mom EVERYONE ELSE HAS A Wii for Christmas LAST year – This is for you.

Rockin’ it old school Nintendo style + A Capella show choir = WIN.

Yeah.

FINISH HIM!
(still giggling)

We did what we always do on July 4th:
– go to the parade
– forget the sunscreen
– rationalize that to go back and get it would be silly because
– it ALWAYS is cold and foggy on the 4th
– belatedly remember that it’s sometimes REALLY HOT too
– realize that this? Is one of those years.
– make lobsters jealous with the color of your exposed skin.
– oh, and Enjoy the Parade despite courting skin cancer.

Fun, huh?

Actually it was a lovely day, despite my sunburn! Peppermist, her BFF Micky, the Pup, Nana and I met up at the parade, and giggled and pointed and took a ton of pictures, while enjoying a bit of our small town life – that looks anything but small town. You see, the parade is the BIGGEST party of the year – even though we have no firework.

…I see your confused expression there – let me remind you that I live in Alaska, land of the midnight sun. Fireworks aren’t any fun if you can’t SEE them!

When you live in Alaska, you often make your own fun – like so:
The Pup: Did you get that streamer headband for ME?
Me: NO! because I’m a PRETTY PRETTY PRINCESS, DAMMIT!
Mom nearby: (Tries not to laugh outloud. Chokes. Gives up. Laughs loudly)
Me: (points and laughs at nearby mom – gives up the Streamer Headband)
Pup: I AM A PRETTY PRETTY PRINCESS!

Or:

Micky: I like sitting next to the highway – the wind from the cars is cooling.
Peppermist: Did you just say ‘the highway is for cars’?!
Me: OH EM GEE! NO WAI! The highway is for CARS?!

See, don’t you wish you hung around with us ALL the time?!

After the parade, we braved the local grocery store, IGA, because they had bacon on sale, and I’ve never met a slice of bacon I didn’t devour – and we stayed to see if we won the $500 grocery spree. We didn’t, but we had fun anyway – Peppermist teased Nana because she’s taller than her, and pup proved a most EXCELLENT bunny ear giver for picture purposes.

Then after the fun, we headed home to nurse our burning skin, listen to some tunes, find the cat that had escaped earlier, and relax.

Here’s hoping your 4th was filled with easy going, relaxing family fun too!

So, I don’t know if you guys have realized, but Alaska doesn’t have problems with hurricanes, or tornadoes. No, We get fun stuff! Like earthquakes, and active volcanoes! Every twenty years or so, the closest one, Mt. Redoubt – about 50 miles across the inlet, decides it’d be fun to rumble and belch a little bit, and cover us with ash. I know, doesn’t that sound like FUN?

Redoubt has been making it’s presence known, but so far we’ve been relatively ash-free as the winds have cooperated and pushed the majority of it to the north or south of our small town. Of course, just the thought of ash fall sends many folks into a panic and crisis mode. We grab the “Ash Preparedness Guide” and check up on our supplies and make sure we’re ready for anything.

Ok, by “we” I actually mean “other people” because I did none of those things. Hurray for being prepared! When the first blow finally came, my son called me from work (update there – things are much better and he’s in good with the management again) to say he’d be late to help cover the ventilation shafts and such, and I figured I’d check online to see where the ash was traveling. And maybe take a peek at that supply list while my friends online were totally freaking out in that “OMG YOU HAVE TO MOVE, EVACUATE, SOMETHING! WHAT ABOUT THE LAAAAAAVAAAAA?” kind of way.

For the record: No lava. Volcano across the inlet, lots of water between us and any lava should it actually appear.

ANYWAY – Imagine their panic when I pointed out that I had ONE THING on that supply list – so I was GOLDEN! I was prepared, nothing could harm us, because of this one item, number six on the list! Sure, I didn’t have the masks, the protective eye wear, the flashlight, the batteries, or the battery powered radio, but all was not lost because I? I have a NON-ELECTRIC CAN OPENER! SCORE!

…what was that? Canned food? Shh! Don’t burst my bubble! At least the cats will be happy…

(We’re fine, really. Though the kids have been begging to stay home from school when there’s even a iny HINT that we might get a bit of ash. Meany me, I didn’t let them. )

I had to wait a full 24 hours before writing this one, as the first draft after the incident would have been full of words that would make a sailor blush and Mama hide her eyes and cringe. Now, at least I can speak without stuttering, and view things a little bit clearer. Though with the clarity comes a dark boiling fury that wants to leap free – I’m just in control of it now, whereas yesterday… oh my.

I don’t write about my youngest, my 9 year old, here too often yet, as she’s technically not a teen, or even a tween, though when her issues or conversations should be included for a story, they are. She’s my baby, and I’m full aware – as I’ve mentioned before – that I’m completely doomed with her when puberty hits full force. Right now though, she’s still all knees and elbows and legs and arms that refuse to work in the same direction at the same time despite how much she wants them too. She’s sass, and attitude, and chatter and giggling, and frilly and girly and divaliciousness AND random tears for no reason at all (hello hormones!). She’s my drama queen, she – just like my older kids – is my life.

And when she hurts – I want to hurt someone back. I want to make it go away. I want to FIX it, and make it better. But as a mom, I know that I can’t lash out. I have to teach her how to deal with things on her own. I have to be the bigger mom, the better parent, the smarter adviser so that she grows up stronger then most, and definitely smarter then those who have the actual problem because their parents can’t be bothered with the job of raising civilized offspring.

Sometimes, it’s easy.
A lot of the time it’s hard as hell.
Yesterday, it was EXCRUCIATING.

The pup came home from school worried about her gym shoes – because the laces were frayed and she thought someone had done it on purpose to get back at her. She was worried about telling me, so told her auntie instead – and that’s when the full story emerged. It’s never just about the shoes.

There was an incident in her classroom, when the teacher had stepped in the hallway to deal with another problem. There were names called, and accusations thrown, and then the two boys who have been picking at my daughter for a month now (one of which we’ve had problems with before for a year or so), hit her below the belt. Not physically – this was far worse. These boys, 4th grade boys, told my daughter that her father never loved her, that he left because he didn’t care about her, that he never wanted her to begin with.

For those that don’t know, her father, my husband, died unexpectedly 3.5 years ago.

She couldn’t hold it in – she fought back, though with only words. The whole classroom erupted into screaming, and then she did what I had taught her. She turned and walked away, why these two little…. these two boys called her names. The teacher hurried back in – all this happened in mere moments – and got the classroom under control, and no one, not even my daughter, told her what had started the fight. She doesn’t want to be a tattletale, and she knew she should have walked away and gotten the teacher first. And when she discovered her shoelaces, and how destroyed they were – when they had not been that way earlier – she thought they had done it on purpose, and transferred all that worry into hoping I wouldn’t be mad about the shoelaces, even though I’ve told her time and time again that THINGS don’t matter, people do. She had to cling to something to transfer her worry to, something tangible since she knew that the boys were wrong, that they had lied, and that they had hurt her on purpose.

Of course her auntie told me, and we told the teacher, and let her know what really happened. I also assured the pup that I could fix the damn shoelaces – they weren’t a problem. The teacher had a class meeting this morning, and made sure to phrase things in such a way that there were no fingers pointing at the pup, that would make the boys act out against her again today, and we – the teacher and I – have an action plan of what to do should it start to escalate again.

The pup and I had another talk about walking away, about getting to a teacher if needed, and about words and stupid people don’t matter in the grand scheme of things because SHE knows the truth. Her daddy loved her more than life, I love her with the same intensity, and nothing anyone ever says could change that. The boys found a soft spot that would hurt her, and pushed.

I wish I knew how to teach her to protect her heart, while still keeping it as full and open as it always as been. I wish I could wrap her up and protect her from all the assholes of this world, no matter what age they might be. I want to keep her SAFE, and secure, yet still teach her to be as fiercely independent as she desires to be. I wish it didn’t hurt so badly when someone hurts my baby, and I wish I could strike back.

Instead, I can only do what I can do – hold her close, until she’s done letting me comfort her. Let go when she wants to walk on her own, yet hover close enough to catch her when she falls. Step back and let her fall when she thinks she’s ready too – so that I can pick her back up again, until she’s strong enough to pick herself up, dust herself off, and try once more.

I’m never sure if I’m doing enough, too much, not near enough. All I can do is try to help pad the soft spots, while keeping them open and free-flowing and strong.

Sometimes being the bigger, better parent sucks donkey balls.

Then, this morning, she reminded me just why we put ourselves through it, as she woke up happy and smiling and danced her way through her day on cloud nine. She even told me when she got home that for some reason, she was happier than ever today – and no one could tell that she had a problem yesterday because she was so happy and thrilled with life. For some reason, her day was just… good. No, today it was great. She doesn’t need to know why – it just was.

I think I know why. I think that her daddy held her up today, wrapped in his arms, wrapped in his love that was so big in life that it transcends death.

And I think she’ll be okay.

Thanks for commenting on the last post and entering for your chance at a Fandango Movie Certificate! I have to agree with a lot of you – mmmmmmm Brendan Frasier! Yum! I even watched Journey to the Center of the Earth. Twice. Inorite?!

But! We have a winner, and I’m sure you’re all dying to know who gets to go see Inkheart for free this weekend, so gimme a drumroll, please!

Random.org selected the winner, and it is comment number….

Two! Congrats Michelle, you’ve won the $20 Fandango Movie Certificate! I’ll get your email addy to Deana right away. I hope you enjoy the movie – and be sure to come back and give us a little mini-review, huh?

Or at least tell us how drool worthy Brendan is, ok? That’s what we REALLY want to know, anyway… right?

So I like to read “teen” stories. Hey! Stop looking at me like that, all you Twilight Freaks out there! I haven’t succumbed to the pressure of THAT one! (..yet! My sister isn’t done reading it and I’m gonna borrow their copy. hahaha.) I just started reading INkheart, because my son got it for Christmas, (…what?) and he’s still finishing another book and I was done with Steven King’s Duma Key and who doesn’t need a little fantasy now and then?

Anyway! The lovely Deana wrote me last week – and she’s just started reading it too – but her main reason for writing was to offer YOU a gift!

That’s right, it’s time for another Parenting Teens Giveaway! To celebrate the opening of Inkheart in theaters on January 23rd – that’s THIS FRIDAY, ya’ll! – Deana has graciously offered a $20 Fandango gift certificate, which is usable at practically any theater in the country. We can even use them at OUR theater here in Alaska!

So here’s how it works. Every comment on this post up until midnight Alaska time on Wednesday, January 21st, qualifies as an entry into the giveaway. On Thursday the 22nd, Random.org and I will choose a winner. Please make sure to use a valid email for your comment, as that is how Deana will get the certificate to you!

Inkheart stars Brendan Fraser as Mortimer “Mo” Folchart, who shares a passion for books with his 12 year old daughter Meggie (Eliza Hop Bennett). They also have a unique gift for bringing the characters to life, simply by reading aloud from the books. However – when that happens, a real person disappears into the book in exchange. When Mo hears voices he hasn’t heard for years, the discovery that they come from the pages of Inkheart, a book into which Meggie’s mother disappeared, it sends shivers up his spine.

Will his plan to rescue Resa succeed, or be thrwarted by Capricorn, the evil villain of Inkheart, as he kidnaps Meggie and demands all the fictional characters be brought to life… Will Mo succeed in rescuing his daughter and set things right?

So! Check out the book, AND the movie – and be sure to leave a comment on this post for your chance at the $20 Fandango gift certificate – the chance to see Inkheart (or any movie) for Free courtesy of Deana and YouCastCorp!

View the Movie Trailer after the cut! (it auto starts.)

Read the rest of this entry »

So, drinking has been on my mind the past few days, which isn’t so surprising because “the facts are these..” (SOB! How could they cancel Pushing Daisies?!): Christmas Vacation starts in just over a week, and that means all the kids will be home, with various of their friends, and it’s ALSO -3 degrees out there right now and a hot toddy sounds REALLY GOOD, and it’s been 3 years, 4 months, 5 days and 16 hours since I last got my drunk on.

No, I’m not in recovery or anything like that, I just don’t go out anymore, and getting drunk alone at home sort of crosses that line from recluse to crazy cat woman a little too easily for my comfort. That’s not to suggest my teenagers haven’t driven me to drink, just that it takes too much effort to actually get gussied up and hit the too expensive bars, or to bundle up in the cold to hit the stores.

Yes. I’m not a drunk because I am THAT lazy.

Anyway, it likely won’t surprise you that my talks with my kids about drinking and drugs run along the same lines as our sex talks do – irreverent, yet informative, with copious amounts of tequila with a bit of weed on the side. Oh stop, I’m just kidding. About the informative part. (Oh come on, ya’ll know me better then that!)

You see, when I was growing up, I was the absolute epitome of the good girl. (I’ll wait for you to stop laughing. All better? Thanks, mom.) I didn’t drink or smoke – anything – at all while I was growing up and through high school. I think a lot of that had to do with my Dad’s attitude about it – if I wanted to try a beer, ask him and he’d let me. Same with a glass of wine. As long as it was at home, with my parents in attendance. I tell you, there’s no better way to curtail someone’s desire for a bad habit so much as hearing “Sure, you can have a beer. Sit there next to your mom.” from your parents. As if I weren’t ‘uncool’ enough, drinking with my PARENTS?! Yeah. That wouldn’t help at ALL. So I didn’t. I never even really felt the urge to, either. It just seemed like too much bother.

That’s not to say that I didn’t drink before I was of legal age – I did. AFTER I moved out, and ALWAYS with the knowledge that if I couldn’t drive, or the people I was with couldn’t drive, I could call my dad and he’d come get me. Sure, he wouldn’t be exactly HAPPY about getting up at o’God-thirty to come find me, but that option was always there. Just as it is for my kids. And their friends. (Like the one I picked up this morning because she was going to walk in -3 degree weather, without a coat, with high heels. INORITE? Another story, another time.) I drank a bit, then stopped when I had kids, and I tried weed the first time when I was 31 years old.

Yes. Thirty-One.

So I knew what it takes to resist the peer pressure, and how to find those friends that won’t pressure at all. (Honestly? Hang with the stoners. They don’t care if YOU don’t indulge, as long as you don’t care if they DO.) That’s the same hope I had with my own kids – that I could raise them to feel the same way about it all as I did. Moderation, careful consideration, and for goddsake leave mom’s stash alone! (..ahem.)

When it came time to talk to my kids about drinking and drugs – though to be honest I don’t remember a specific conversation, it as just something always there and openly discussed – My husband and I took the same route. If you want to try something bad enough, ask us. Now, my kids, being the stubborn little brats that they are, DID ask. One sniff of tequila and it never made it to their lips. A little taste of beer was enough to wrinkle the nose and have me laughing at the looks on their faces, since I don’t like beer either. They never asked after that, and they haven’t even considered doing anything else, either. Trust me – I can smell pot a mile away, on someone who was simply in the next apartment building over, getting it 4th hand. I know.

When my husband died, we had a good old fashioned Irish Wake, complete with a keg, many bottles of many things, and probably (ok, most certainly) some fine Alaskan weed too. I didn’t monitor the boy and his friend, both of whom were 13 at the time. Well, I was watching them, but I didn’t count the sips they were most assuredly stealing from the keg, or the fact that my Strawberry Jack Daniels always had a couple swallows missing when it got to me. I watched them, and made sure they were safe, but I didn’t stop them. It was an Irish Wake. It was a time to mourn and celebrate Dad, in a way that would make him proud. We had MANY people at the campsite who were sober and taking care of us all, so it was a safe environment.

And the boys’ hangovers the next day? TOTALLY worth it. Even if they STILL deny they had that much to drink. Liars.

On the way home, after I’d made sure to bang a couple things real loud, accidentally of course, we had a talk. And we made a deal. After they realized I wasn’t angry that they were swiping, both boys opened up and we had a frank discussion about it, and why I allowed it that night – and then we hammered out the terms of our deal. They had their taste, they had their fun. If they steered completely clear of alcohol (and weed was certainly implied – though not specified.) until they were 21, I would find a way to take them to Vegas to celebrate their birthday in style – no chaperoning, just me along to pour them into their beds at dawn, and make sure they didn’t do something totally stupid. And to take many blackmail pictures, of course. Both boys thought this was a FANTASTIC idea, and the bargain was struck.

A bargain they’ve both kept, 100% to this day. In fact, when they ask if they can have a sip of my girly beer, I hand them the bottle. “Go ahead. It’ll save me money in the long run.” They always hand it back, that damning sip un-taken. The boy wants to go to Vegas. And I will be more the pleased to pony up the dough to take them there.

I guess my point is – don’t be afraid to talk with your kids before it’s too late. If you are open and honest and NOT damning them for even considering it, they’ll react rationally, and probably surprise you. Dare to be open with you kids, dare to be different and find a tactic that works for you both. Most of all – TALK TO THEM. I’ve said it a million times, and it’s still my number one go to rule for surviving teenagerhood. TALK TO THEM. You might be surprised what you find out, and I know for a fact, you won’t be sorry you took the time.