Fender Bender

Remember what I said about student drivers? I meant every word of it.

Have you ever seen the movie Clueless? If you have you’ll understand right away, if not you’ll understand soon. Do you remember the part where she hit’s the parked car and says, “Should I leave a note?” That was me today. Except I was attempting to pull out of the parking spot when I hit them, not driving down the road.

That’s right, I hit a parked car, or in this case truck. Talk about a bad beginning. I mean, how hard could it really be to pull out of a parking space and around the vehicle in front of you? Apparently, it was too hard for me.

The good news, no one was in it when it happened. The bad news, I had to wait an hour for the guy to come back to his truck.

He was pretty cool about it though. If it had happened the day before I would have hit his work truck instead of his personal vehicle. Why, because he rear-ended someone yesterday in HIS work truck. So today he had to drive his truck.

He’s going to need a new bumper, but that’s about it. He was just glad that I didn’t hit his hitch. Which means he can still tow his boat this weekend, if his truck isn’t in the shop already. Which it probably won’t be.

He was pretty amazed that we even stuck around because most people wouldn’t have. I mean there weren’t any witnesses. We could have driven away and no one would have even known. He even admitted that he probably wouldn’t have even noticed if I hadn’t said anything. But it was the right thing to do. Shawn was even nice enough to go around to the local shops to see if he could find the owner, while I sat in the car and cried. That’s what I said, cried.

I don’t mean little bitty tears. I mean I can’t breathe I’m crying so hard, my head is against the steering wheel and I can’t move, tears. I felt like an idiot. What kind of a driver am I going to be? I mean who gets in an accident before they even get their license? Me.

Shawn tried to make me feel better by telling me I could go and sit in the car and he would take care of everything. That didn’t make me feel better. Just like him telling me it was no big deal didn’t make me feel any better. He also said that if this was my first accident it really wasn’t that bad.

All I could say was that he wasn’t the one to hit a parked car on his fourth day driving. Sure I’ve driven a few times in the past for about 10-20 minute increments but they don’t count. They were only around the neighborhood so I could get used to our car.

All the way home Shawn tried to make me feel better. He reminded me how the day after we got the car he backed into a tree. “It was dark out and you couldn’t even see the tree. We were up in the mountains and it was very late and very dark. It doesn’t count,” I said.

“Remember when I backed into the house at SAJ’s,” he asked.

“You were still BACKING UP. You didn’t pull out of a parking space and hit a PARKED car,” I replied very loudly. Reminding him that it wasn’t even a car, it was a Chevy pick up that was a bigger than our Rodeo, and that only an idiot could manage it.

He even tried to compare how I felt to how he felt when he got his speeding tickets. All I said was, “You were speeding, and you didn’t HIT A PARKED CAR!”

I really felt like the character in Clueless. I mean I’m blonde, I had no idea what I was doing, and I even asked if we should leave a note since we couldn’t find the guy. BTW, I knew it was a guy’s truck by the fishing stickers on the rear window.

When we went to get in the car to leave, I looked at Shawn and said, “I’m not driving home.“ He said he didn’t expect me to. I cried all the way home, all 45 minutes of it. And every time he tried to make me feel better I cried harder. Finally he just quit talking about it.

He even offered to call the insurance company when we got home. I told him I’d do it since it was my fault. He said that I didn’t have to, but I’m stubborn. Why should he have to explain to someone why I hit a parked car?

I now realize that it wasn’t really that bad, but I still don’t feel any better. Maybe tomorrow I’ll go out for another lesson.



P.S. When Shawn asked what I did wrong I told him I shouldn’t have listened to him. I was backing up to give myself space to go around the guy and he said I had enough room so I listened to him. Obviously I didn’t have enough room. Maybe it would have been enough for him, but he’s been driving for 14 years.

Beware: Student Driver

The last three days have not been the most pleasant. I drove. I was terriffied. I almost lost the breakdast I didn’t eat.

Day one I attempted to drive down the street near our home to the downtown area where we live. The speed limit starts out at 35 and then gets up to 45 and then drops back down to 35 again. It’s also a two lane road with trees lining each side.

Within minutes of getting on the road I nearly rolled our Rodeo when trying to get back in the middle of the lane instead of hugging the shoulder. I went to correct my steering and I over-corrected. So when trying to correct my over-correct I over-corrected again.

AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!

And of course I did all of this with my very lovable and innocent Superchunk securely strapped into her carseat in the back. So I didn’t drive the speedlimit. I got all the way up to 45 and then thought I was going to throw up and cry at the same time. All I said to Shawn was, “45’s too fast.” So he told me to slow down to a speed I was more comfortable at. So 35 it was.

All the while there is a dirt hauler behind me. Great. I think I scared him when I hit the white line, bounced to the center line, and then hit the white line again before finding the middle of the lane. He kept his distance. In one way it was a good thing. It made it very easy to see him in my mirrors , which constantly seemed like they were in the wrong spot, I was fidgeting, and made it so no one else could get in behind me.

Shawn asked if I was going to go down main street, my answer was to turn onto the first side street I came to and park. Then we switched and he drove us the rest of the way. I refused to drive the rest of the day.

Day two was a little better. I drove the same route I did day one but this time I actually drove down main street. Before we got to the place I stopped at on day one Shawn asked if I was going to stop or if I was going to keep going. I asked him if he thought I was ready for main street, all he said was, “If you think you are then do it, if not then don’t.” I hate that. I needed to know if he thought I was ready for it or not, not if I thought I was ready or not.

So, when I got to the intersection I had to stop for a red light to make my right turn, which was pretty easy. But I was just sitting there thinking if I wanted to turn on the red or wait for the light to change. So Shawn asked if I was going to wait for the light before I made my turn. I looked at the traffic and said, “no, I guess not.” He said if I wanted to wait it was okay because there wasn’t anyone behind us, but that there wasn’t traffic going the way we wanted to go either.

So I turn and what do I see ahead of me. A red unmarked, lovely. Shawn tells me not to worry that I’ll do fine just doen’t rear-end the cop. Hah-hah very funny. I wasn’t worried about reae-ending someone as much as I was clipping someone’s mirror.

I made it through down town with no real problems. I think it was mostly due to the fact that the speed limit at its highest is only 35, and a large portion is only 25. That I can handle. I even had to change lanes, because I needed to make a left eventually. When I finally changed lanes all Shawn said was, “It took you long enough.” Thanks. Why should I change lanes when I didn’t need to yet? I wasn’t sure what speed I was going to be comfortable at so I just stayed in the right lane and let the people who knew what they were doing have the left. But when I did change lanes it wasn’t all that bad. The only person in the lane was exactly where he was before, which was back far enough that I didn’t have to slow down or speed up to change lanes. Finally, a break.

I knew where the street was that I need to turn at so I didn’t think much about it. Then Shawn told me to turn into the shopping center where I had a turn lane versus having to turn in front of traffic onto the side street. Sounds good to me, but I had to ask if he had me turn earlier because he though I wasn’t ready for it. He said, “no but why make it harder than it has to be. I turn here too when traffic is heavy, it’s just easier.”

When we finally get where we’re going I turn into the driveway and don’t slow down for the speedbump. We bounced. I looked at Shawn and laughed a little. “There’s a little of your own medicine,” I say. So I go to park and he tells me not ot bother parking next to someone just pick an empty space. So I parked one space away. I even mamnaged to park in my space and fair;y straight, even though I could have pulled forward a little more. The spaces were angeled and I felt like I was closer to the burm than I really was. I set the parking brake, put the car in neutral, and turn off the car. When I get out I tell Shawn that I still feel like I’m going to be sick but it’s not as bad as it was the day before.

Day three. I almost didn’t practice today because I was babysitting Rapunzel’s friend, Little Bitty. Little Bitty always puts me on edge when she is here because I never know if she is going to spend the whole time crying or not.

Once I decided I needed to practice if she was here or not I told her that I needed her to be very quietwhile we were in the car. She said okay but I could tell she didn’t understand why. So I told her that I was learning to drive and that I get really nervous, so I needed her to be quiet so I could concentrate on my driving. She did wonderfully. I’ve never had her be that quiet in the car before. She always asks me a million questions. Mostly because she knows I can’t get away.

Anyways. When we leave Shawn tells me he wants me to go the other direction today. I immediately hit the brakes, looked at him and said, “But the speed limit gets up to 50 if we go that way!” He says, “it’s only five more than what it was yesterday.” “But yesterday I only went 40!” “You can do it,” he says, “you’ll be fine.”

So we go the other way.

First, I have to wait for a tow truck to back up. Then when I get to the main road I have to wait for the same tow truck, again. I think he was lost. Of course at this point I’m stopped uphill with a clutch. I just wan’t to get a big sticker that says, “BEWARE: Student Driver with A Standard Transmission STAY BACK!!!,” and put it on my rear window. I stalled twice before I finally made it. Then when I went I spun the tires. We were on a little bit of loose gravel, which didn’t help. Shawn laughs and said, “you soun the tires,” like he was bored. I laughed a little and said it wasn’t the first time and paribably won’t be the last. But at least I didn’t stall again.

Luckily traffic wasn’t all that heavy. But I did have to stop at a signal that o was once again uphill. And of course I had a shiny black Lincoln Towncar trying to crawl up my tail pipe. He stayed right on my tail until I made my next turn. Then Shawn had me pull over so he could pass me.

Looking back I’m surprised that I didn’t slow down when he was so close behind me. I actually managed to do the speed limit te whole time.

Once we get to the next major road and I realize where I am I wasn’t very happy with Shawn. He tells me to turn right, so I get over a little closer to the curb but not close enough. I also stopped in front of the line. Which everyone does around here, but it would have been anautomatic fail if I did it on my drive test. Oh well.

Now I have to drive 50 mph on a road with other cars. A very busy raod. But I did it. I did get a little to close to the white line a few times but the lane I was in was huge so it was hard not to. Shawn ells me that I’m now in HP, which is a few towns over from where we live. I did it.

Once we get back into the main part of town we made a stop and I managed to turn into the parking lot without hitting the curb. There was a divider that you had to follow into the parking lot and I was positive I was going to hit the curb on my left. I didn’t, I was very surprised. I did have one problem though. I tried to down shift when I was already in second gear, and that didn’t work all that well. But I recovered without stalling.

I even drove all the way home. And I didn’t feel like I was going to get sick.

We figured out how for me to drive with Shawn in the car and not be so nervous. Instead of having him verbally say anything to me, he just taps his door or the dashboard lightly when I get to close to the shoulder of the road. It seems to work well. So now I don’t spend the whole time saying “I’m sorry.”

For mom: We went left from the house awy from town, under the bridge, through the signal that comes from three ways, to the road we take to the big mall. Then we went towards the Home Depot where we went when B was here in May, and then home from there.

Stuck In Limbo Land

Did you know that in order for a woman’s libido to stay awake that she must be “courted”; that a woman’s libido is most active in the morning after a good night’s sleep; that if a woman is not relaxed nothing can get it to kick into gear; and that the only way to get it back into gear after a long dead stretch is a vacaction? Oh, and the vacation has to be at least four days, without the kids, and something that we didn’t plan.

No? Well neither did I. At least not until this Summer.

I have been told by the doctor that Shawn and I need to date. Hah hah, very funny. Like that is ever going to happen. We’re supposed to go out once a week and I’m not supposed to plan it at all. He’s supposed to tell me that we’re going out on Thursday, that the girls will be taken care of by so and so, and to be ready at said time. But that is just not how things work.

I’m the one who tries to find a sitter, I pick where we go to eat and then we disagree on what movie to see. Not exactly what the doctor had in mind.

Normally we don’t even go out without the girls. It’s just to hard. This is what one of our “dates” is like.

“___ said they’ll watch the girls tonight.”

“Good. Where are we going to go?”

“Dinner and the drive-in?”

“Sounds good.”

Then about ten minutes before it’s time to leave to drop off the girls they call and cancel. I don’t even know why I even try anymore. So then this happens:

“They can’t watch the girls.”

“Oh. So now what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay girls, change of plans. You’re going with us.”

“Yay!!!!”

“But when we get home, you go to bed.”

“Ahhh, why.”

“So Daddy and I can watch a movie together. Remember this is supposed to be our date?”

“Oh yeah.”

Then we get to the restaurant and I order dinner. For EVERYONE, all the way down to the last drink. It’s not very romantic when you have to worry about everyone else’s meal. And whether the mashed potatoes are going in the mouth or on the floor.

Maybe when we get home and the kids are in bed things will get better. But who am I kidding? We get home an twenty minutes later teeth are brushed, jammies are on, and the kisses and hugs have been given.

“Quick put the movie in before it gets any later.”

“What were we going to watch again?”

“I don’t care just pick something.”

“How about Terminator?”

“Whatever. Just pick something.”

He always jokingly picks some extremely testosterone filled movie, and I almost always say whatever, so that’s usually what we end up watching. How romantic. Then about twenty to thirty minutes in Superchunk wakes up. If the evening wasn’t already pretty dead that would definitely kill it.

It doesn’t help when you can’t afford to go on a vacation, and even if you could the only places close enough to drive to the kids would enjoy also. So of course I’d want to take them with us and that totally defeats the whole purpose. About the only place we could go that the kids wouldn’t enjoy is Vegas. And that’s not really an option. Why, because the thing to do in Vegas is drink and gamble, and then gamble and drink. And that’s just not us.

So I guess my libido will be stuck in limbo for another six or seven years. Or until we can actually do something about it. What’s another six or seven years when it’s already been six, right.

Pillows

Pillows. That’s all you need to magically change your appearance in the eyes of a child.

We spent some time discussing Halloween today. Rapunzel is going to be Tigger for the fourth year in a row. Superchunk was an adorable Nala last year, but will be playing the part of the little Piglet that she is this year. All thanks to a friend who was offered the costume from one of her customers. She took it in hopes that it would fit Superchunk and it did. So now all we need is Pooh to have the most famous trio in the world.

As we were discussing our costumes of choice for this year we once again came to the topic of Hagrid. You all should know who he is from the Harry Potter movies. He is the very large and burly groundskeeper for Hogwart’s School of Wizardry and Witchcraft. Shawn has a western duster that he wears quite frequently and it resembles the one worn in the movie. Though he had it a good year before the movie was released. He also has a beard, no where near the length of Hagrid’s but it wouldn’t take much to make it appear that way. We figured we’d only trim the mustache for the next few weeks and let the beard grow. Then on Halloween we’d brush it up and out instead of down to make it appear longer and fuller. Basically I guess to make it look bushy. A pair of Red Wing workboots to add a few inches of height and we’d be all set. But I was forgetting one thing.

A pink umbrella.

You know the one that Hagrid hides his wand in. Where were we going to find a pink umbrella? Rapunzel of course.

“I have a pink umbrella Daddy.”

“That’s right you do. If I use that then I’ll really look like Hagrid, won’t I?”

“Yeah, but you need to stick a pillow in your coat first, ’cause Hagrid’s bigger than you are.”

“Oh, he is, is he?”

“Yeah. But I think you need two pillows to make yourself fat like Hagrid.”

“Are you saying that I’m not fat?”

“You need two pillows to make yourself as big as Hagrid, ’cause you’re not that big.”

I loved how she answered his question without actually answering his question. Rapunzel is very self-conscious about hurting someone else’s feelings. She wasn’t going to say no because then she would be lying. And we told her not to lie to us, ever. But she wasn’t going to say yes either. And all because that might hurt his feelings.

Just a few simple pillows and he can go from Daddy, who’s a little fat, but don’t tell him that, to my Daddy is Hagrid, but he had to use TWO pillows ’cause my Daddy’s not THAT big.

All I need is a yellow sweat suit and I guess I can be Pooh. No pillows needed.

The Right Thing To Do

What to do, what to do what to do. I just don’t know.

I know someone who has something that doesn’t belong to them. When questioned about it the answer was that they found it. Well it should be pretty easy to figure out to who it belongs to and return it, right. Just push a few buttons. But no way, that actually requires a conscience and a little bit of work. Neither one is a trait that they like to use.

So today I saw it again while they weren’t around so I did some snooping on my own. I know I shouldn’t have but when I know something doesn’t belong to me I try to figure out who it belongs to. Within reason of course. That’s what you’re supposed to do.

So I turn it on and up pops a name. So far so good. Then I go through the phonebook, but it’s empty. Not even one single entry. Next received calls, no luck there either. Then it’s on to dialed calls. Bingo. There are three names and one “unknown.”

The first name I come to I dial, one, two, three, nothing. Hmmm. What’s going on? A phone number is at least seven digits and it only dialed three. Then onto the second and third numbers, same thing. Maybe it’s a Nextel thing, the phone was a Motorola.

My last chance is to dial the “unknown” and see what happens. When I do I get quite a shock. I recognize the voice I hear. So I hang up, I wasn’t about to leave a voicemail. So I call back and let Shawn listen and he agrees. We definitely know who it is.

Now what. I have come to three conclusions both of which may be wrong.

1. I suspect that the phone was “found” (and I use the term very loosely) in someone’s vehicle. And that it was “found” only because it belonged to “someone” they didn’t like “someone” talking to.

2. That the was phone was honestly found, but was used by the person who found it for personal use. Which is just plain wrong.

3. That the phone belonged to the someone whose vehicle it may have possibly been “found” in and the person just doesn’t want to return it out of spite.

This isn’t the first time something like this has happened before. In July Shawn and this person found an abandoned vehicle on a dirt road with the keys in it. When they got home Shawn called the police to report it. This person became aggravated because they didn’t want to have to drive back out to the vehicle with the police. This person also felt it was none of their business, or ours. And that if they had left their vehicle out there for whatever reason, they wouldn’t want the police involved because they may be fined for abandoning the vehicle on private property. Boo Hoo. That’s what you get.

But on the other hand, if said person’s vehicle was stolen and they knew YOU hadn’t called it in it would be all your fault. They would track you down and harass you, literally.

This person has also “accidentally” ended up with company property when they fired from their job. When I found out that the property was in my garage and I had used it, I wasn’t very happy. I jokingly mentioned that there was a reward if it was “found” and returned. They then wanted to call and return the “found” property for the reward. When they were the ones to take it in the first place. Let’s just say I called to have the property picked up. I told them it was “accidentally” taken by an employee when they were fired, but I wouldn’t give them a name. I figured that when they got the property back they could look at the serial number and figure out who had used it last. I also told them that it had been in my possession since April, but I didn’t realize until the weekend before that it didn’t belong to who I thought it did. I never mentioned a reward, I was just glad to have it gone. They still don’t know that I returned it. Oh well.

I feel this way about it. If you keep something when you know it belongs to someone else you might as well have stolen it yourself. Whether it be a physical item or just information on something that may be lost or stolen. When it comes down to it, there is just no way around the right thing to do.

So now I get to track down the person I know, and see what they know about the “found” item. Oh joy.

Hello, Hives!, Goodbye Picture Day

I am probably grossing everyone out but I don’t care.

Yesterday we all overslept. We woke up when it was time to leave to take Rapunzel to school. So we hurriedly got dressed, grabbed a lunch out of the fridge, and piled into the car and drove the three blocks to the school.

Luckily we we’re only about 15 minutes late. So we, Rapunzel and I, walk into the office to sign in and get a tardy slip before she goes to class. As I’m signing her in I notice that her cheek is all red. I tell her to look at me and I realize that her other cheek is all red too. Hmmm, curious.

“Do your cheeks itch?” I ask.

“No.” She replies.

“Do they burn, or maybe tingle a little bit?”

“No.”

“Is something wrong?” asks Miss Nancy, the school secretary.

“It looks like she has some sort of a rash on her face.”

“Well, why don’t we have the school nurse look at her before she goes to class.”

“Okay.”

So into the nurses office we go.

“I’ll be right with you,” we hear. It’s coming from the small fridge as she backs out with some ice for the little girl sitting on the bed with apaper towel on her scraped up knee.

“What seems to be the pproblem?”

“She has a rash on her cheeks. I didn’t notice it until we got under the lights in the office.”

“Does she have any allergies?”

“No, not really. But we were around some poison ivy at a picnic on Saturday.”

“It’s not poison ivy. It looks like hand, foot, and mouth disease.”

“Doen’t that have sores, not a rash?”

“Yes. But there was a child in last week with it, and he had a rash just like this when it first started. His mom insisted it was only allergies, but a few days later he was diagnosed.”

“Oh.”

“So take her home, and call her doctor.”

“Okay. If I give her Benadryl and the rash goes away it’s not HF&M disease, right?”

“Right.”

So home we go to get the Benadryl. Then it’s off to Walmart to get Shawn’s new safety glasses for work. (Did I ever mention that he got a job at Firestone as a tech?) I know she isn’t supposed to be around anyone if she has HF&M, but I don’t think she does.

After we get home I call the doctors office but of course the nurses are all at lunch. So I give them my information and they tell me a nurse will call me back. About an hour or so later the nurse calls back.

“Mrs. How-do-you-say-it?”

“Yes.”

“This is the nurse at E Clinic.”

“Hi.”

“What is going on with this rash?

“I don’t have a clue. It wasn’t there last night but it was there this morning. It’s on both cheeks, on her chin, and on her neck where it meets her jaw.”

“Have you given her anything for it?”

“Yes, Benadryl.”

“Has it changed any since?”

“No.”

“Does it look like someone slapped her?”

“Yes.”

“Does her mouth look like the skin around it is unusually white.”

“It does look that way. When I compare the color of her forehead to the color around her mouth I can tell that they are the same color, but the redness of her cheeks is making it look whiter.”

“Does the rash look kind of lacy?”

“Yes.”

“It sounds like she has fist (or pfist?) disease.”

“Oh. The school nurse told me she had HF&M. But I thought that that was sores not a rash.”

“Does she have any bumps on her arms or legs?”

“No.”

“What about in her mouth?”

“Only the one from her cavity and she is already on antibiotics for that.”

“Is she allergic to any medicines?”

“No.”

“Well, from over the phone it definately sounds like fist (or pfist?) disease. The book says that she can back to school once she is diagnosed, because once she has physical signs she isn’t contagious anymore.”

“Then can I mak an appointment for her?”

“I don’t know. We hate to have kids with rashes coming into the office if we can avoid it being that they have to walk through the o.b. department. But we may have to so she can go back to school. Who is her doctor?”

“Dr. U.”

“Well I’ll ask her and then call you back.”

“Okay, thanks.”

So I wait, and wait , and then wait some more. Finally at about 6 pm they call back. It only took them four hours to let me know what was going on. Then they wanted to make an appointment for that night. When I said no that I needed it for the next morning she sounded a little put off. Like I was the one who insisted she go in right away and then changed my mind. Which i never did, I just asked if I could make an appointment for her to be seen, I never said when. So I make the appointment and call Shawn to tell him.

Today, we rush out the door for the 45 minute drive to the doctors office. On the way up I remind Rapunzel that she can’t play with any kids while we’re there. She says she knows because she might give them her rash. We walk through the o.b. waiting area which is mostly empty, lucky for us, to sign in at the desk. Then we sit and wait in the peds. waiting area to be called.

After a short ten minutes we’re called into the back. Rapunzel is weighed, she is now a whopping 43 lbs, and we are ushered into the exam room. It was another 20 minutes before the doctor actually came in. I realize now that they didn’t want her in the waiting room with all the other patients that were starting to show up.

The doctor takes a look, and says, “Does it itch anywhere, Princess Rapunzel?”

Rapunzel very enthusiastically circles her whole face with her finger and then folds back her ear to show the doctor.

“She has hives.”

“Are you sure?”, I ask. Having been told twice that it was something else.

“Yes. The bites on her knee are almost healed but there is a localized reaction there, see, and the same with the one on her cheek. Have you tried any new foods, laundry detergent or anything?”

“No. But those bites are over a week old, and the rash didn’t appear until yesterday morning?”

“It’s possible that she was bit again.”

“The school nurse said it was HF&M. But she doesn’t have any bumps.”

So she looks at Rapunzel’s hand, in her mouth, say ahhhh, and takes off her shoes to check her feet.

“She doesn’t have any bumps. It’s just hives. What have you given her for it?”

“Just Benadryl yesterday.”

“Only one dose or two?”

“One, and it didn’t do anything so I didn’t give her anymore. She said it didn’t itch or anything. That didn’t start until today. Plus when the baby gets hives one dose will usually get rid of them.”

“With hives this severe one dose isn’t going to do anything.”

“Should I give her the liquid, or the fast melt pills?”

“Either one.”

“Since it’s just hives she can go back to school, right?”

“Yes.”

“Can you give me a note for the school nurse saying that it’s okay for her to be at school?”

“Sure. If the hives aren’t reacting to the Benadryl by Friday, or it just doesn’t seem to be getting any better call in and we’ll phone in a prescription for her.”

“Okay, thanks.”

So out the door we go. I knew I was right about the HF&M thing.

The school told me the same thing last year when she got bit up by a spider all over her feet. Then I had to ask if it could only be on the feet and they said no, but they still wouldn’t let her go back to school for the last two days of the week. I think HF&M is a fall back for what ever they don’t know what it is. The doctor told me she has never seen a child with HF&M that had a rash.

I knew I was right. But what else could I do? Ther was no way I was going to keep her home for a week.

Now the next thing to face is picture day. Which is tommorrow, and still the hives show no sign of disappearing overnight. I tried to convince her that she could have her picture taken when they did the retakes but she is insisting on having them tomorrow. Red cheeks and all. I guess I’ll get her all ready and when the pictures come back she’ll be willing to do the retakes.

Maybe, they’ll be gone in the morning. I know they won’t be, but a mom can always hope, right?

Discipline

Super Chunk is turning out to be quite a bit more of a challenge to discipline than Rapunzel was at this age. What am I saying this age for? She’s always been more difficult discipline.

She can be the sweetest little thing when we’re with company, but get her home and everything changes. She has become a little screaming,biting,and hitting fiend.

If Rapunzel is playing with something she wants she screams, then she hits, and if that doesn’t work she bites. If you take something from her, she screams. If you tell her to go to bed, or eat her dinner, or sit down, she screams. That seems to be the general response to everything these days. And I don’t mean a little AHHH sound either. I mean a girl in a shower being stabbed by a psycho scream.

She has also taken to pulling hair. I know all kids pull hair, but not like this. This is a two fisted grab at the back of your head, or maybe the nape of your neck. Then, she leans back and yanks, a lot. Once I’ve finally gotten her fingers out of my hair, which has taken up to five minutes, she usually has a few strands wrapped so tightly around her fingers that they’ve changed colors. My solution, to pull her hair. The only problem is that she likes it. I have pulled her hair so hard that I felt bad, and all she did was laugh.

I’m not being abusive. I’m being realistic. I also spank my girls, and on the odd occasion have bit them back. Now keep in mind that you don’t bite back hard enough to leave any type of a mark or actually cause them any pain. But when they see you start to bite down on their arm or hand they get the picture.

I have also been known to throw a tantrum in the middle of a store. Dragging my feet, and flailing my arms, and being loud. This is usually fairly effective. Everyone around you stops, looks at you like something is wrong with you, realizes what you are doing and then tries not to laugh. In the meantime Rapunzel has stopped screaming and is begging me to stop. I’m embarrassing her. So I stop. The next step is crucial. “I looked pretty dumb didn’t I?” Pause for response, which is typically yes. “You look just as bad when you do it.” Last time I did that I had tantrum free shopping for about three months. As soon as she looked like she was going to start, I’d start dragging MY feet, and she’d see me and stop.

I have been told countless times that I’m a mean mommy. It’s music to my ears. It means that I’m doing something right. If parents are too nice the kids are brats. Even Super Chunk has learned the meaning of, “Do we have to go outside?” So they behave.

When people tell me that my kids behave so well I smile and say “thanks.” When they ask what I did to get them to behave so well, I just shrug. Wouldn’t you? With all the cases of child abuse everyone is afraid of disciplining their children. I’m not. I just know what is appropriate and what isn’t.

When I’m out in public I see more and more of “time outs.” These kids usually disrupt everything around them for a longer period of time than those that get taken to the bathroom and given a quick swat. A child knows when they are going to get away with something, especially in public.

Did any of you ever watch the TV show “The Facts of Life”? Do you remember the rich, blonde girl Blaire? Well, she has written a book on disciplining your children. (I heard her in an interview in August.) The only part of it that gets recognized is the part with the Tabasco sauce. That’s right, Tabasco sauce. It is used to “spank” the mouth for offences of the mouth. If a child cusses, or talks back, or bites spanking doesn’t work. This does. When told it might make the child not like spicy things, her response was basically that it was a small price to pay.

It made me smile. Why? Because I’ve done it.

In the hospital when Super Chunk was born Rapunzel kept talking back to me because I couldn’t get out of the bed yet. I told her to get my purse and she immediately started crying. I carry a single serve bottle of tabasco in my purse. I put one drop on my finger and then on her tongue. So she really isn’t getting all that much. The nurse told me it was mean. I told her it worked.

We all discipline our children in the way that we see as proper. But obviously some ways work better than others. It all depends on the child.

The biggest line between abuse and discipline is anger. Never discipline them in anger. Even if it means sending them to their room for half an hour or more so you can calm down.

Road Rash

Last week I ate it, big time. It’s only been about seven years since the last time I went rollerblading. My loving husband knows that I don’t really enjoy bike riding so about 1 1/2 years ago he bought me a new pair of blades. They are a pair of K2’s, $150.00 pair of blades, we paid $40.00. This sounded pretty great. We didn’t realize why they were a $150.00 pair of skates until last week.

They fly like the wind, literally. You could easily go as fast as the cars on the road without much effort. If you know what you’re doing that is. I obviously didn’t.

S had a greta idea last Tuesday. He wanted to hook up the trailer to his bike and go out with the girls. With me on my blades next to them. That doesn’t seem to hard. I mean it’s not like you forget how to blade. Before we left he jokingly told me, “If you crash I’ll come back and get the car to get you back home.”

I did fine for the first few blocks. When coming to the first stop sign we actually had to stop at I very gingerly used my break, testing how long it was going to take me to stop. It didn’t take long at all. Okay, good, lets keep going.

The next street ended with a very small low hill. No big deal, right? Wrong. Without even propelling my self I was going faster than S was pedaling on his bike. I felt like my wheels were greased lightening. Then I realized that my break wasn’t stopping me. S tells me to grab onto him and he’ll help to stop me. I reach out to grab his arm and almost push him over. I think I’m about ready to cry at this point. He tells me to get behind the girls and grab onto the back of the trailer. I do that and almost flip over on top of the girls. Shawn is applying the brake on his bike and I’m applying the brake on my skate, but I’m still pushing the trailer which is making it fishtail. Finally we come to a stop. S asks if I’m okay and I say yeah, but no more hills.

So we turn and go down the next street. And once again what do I see, a LONG hill. Not steep but very long. And it ends at a T with the crossroad, with not one but two blind corners. On one side is an S curve,and the other is blocked by trees and shrubbery. I immediately start to apply the brake, hard. But does this slow me down. NO. I’m still gaining on S and the girls. I look at my options and here is what I see.

1. Run stop sign and possibly get hit by car. No good.

2. Bail off into the grass. Can Do.

Or so I thought. Between the grass and the asphalt is a 1 foot section of rock. I know what happens to you when you hit that much rock. You get thrown, and then things break. Bailing off into grass is no big deal. You just pretend your clothes are on fire. You hit the grass (stop), then drop and roll. But of course the rock changed all of that.

This brought about a third option. Sit down. Yep, that’s what I said, sit down. I fly over near the edge of the road and squat. Dragging my skate behind me. I yell out to S in anticipation of what is to come next. I lean a little to the left and then drop my butt to the ground. I was going so fast that when I hit the ground, I bounced. I probably skidded for about five feet before actually stopping. Did I mention that I was wearing a pair of shorts for this outing? Short shorts.

S pulls up next to me once I stopped and asks, “Are you okay?” Duh, what do you think? I felt like I just left one half of my butt about five feet behind me. But what do I say, “I’m fine, just give me a second. I twisted my knee a little but I’ll be okay.” So I get up with his help. And what is the first thing I hear, “Mommy, you have a really big owie on your butt. Does it hurt?” “Just a little bit,” I say. S asks if he needs to go get the car. I tell him no.

What kind of parent would I be if I didn’t get up and keep going? I always told Rapunzel that if you fell off your bike you had to get back on and try agian, with the exception of broken bones of course. So I got up and kept going. After I walked to the bottom of the hill in the grass, I’m not stupid you know. So then it’s up a hill with one butt cheek on fire and the other knee feeling like jello. I tell S that I’m going to hold onto the trailer so I don’t have as much weight on my knee. He says no problem, but I knew it wouldn’t be easy on him. So I help by pushing the trailer. Once we get to the top he tells me he was glad I did.

I know that there are at least two more hills on the way home, but I know exaxctly what they look and feel like. I walk them twice a day. I also know that there is a way around one. The first hill is no big deal, I just get in the other lane and blow the stop sign and go around the corner. This takes me to another street that will get me home. It’s a little longer, but there’s no hill. So that’s the way we go.

Once we get home and I sit down to take off my skates I can’t get back up. When I decided to bail out I took off a section of skin the size of my hand. From wrist to fingertip, and side to side. No wonder it stung a little.

Now we’ll skip to Friday.

I walked/limped up to the school to get Rapunzel. On the way home she is talking with one of her friends. This is wahat she says, “You see that owie on my Mommy’s leg? She got that from wearing shorts when rollerblading. Don’t EVER wear shorts when rollerblading. We were coming to the end of the street with a hill, and my mommy couldn’t stop. She had two choices, to go through the stop sign and maybe crash and die or to sit down. So she sat down, and then she bounced and kept going even though she was SITTING DOWN! So now she has a big owie on her leg. So don’t EVER rollerbalde with shorts on. Okay?”

Ah, the joys of parenthood. There really is no such thing as privacy. Especially when you do something stupid.

So, if you get new blades ask what the difference in the wheels are before you buy.