Tag: life

Bugs and other blends

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

My house has been bugged.

No solicitation sign
I need to make this sign (Image from Pinterest)

It all started last weekend. The weather was lovely. Not too hot, not too cold. The hubby was working diligently in the garage with our eldest as first assist while LT and I drew chalk pictures on the driveway. It was perfect.

Obviously this scene of domestic bliss had to be interrupted. A man with a clipboard walked up to inform us that his company was in the area actively treating homes such as ours for any number of pests. I sent the door to door salesman on his way, saying “I don’t mind the occasional bug.”

And that’s where I went wrong. I should have learned by now to never, ever offer up an invitation to Mother Nature (she has quite the sense of humor). Either that or the salesman possessed mind powers and a suit in his van similar to the one Marvel will show in Ant-Man. In any case, as we were readying the boys for bed I noticed a large brown spot in the corner of a wall where hallway meets ceiling. The spot then moved.

Bleah! The hubby was promptly summoned to get rid of the creature while I continued with the bedtime routine (I am all for making sacrifices). My eldest saw the action and called out, “don’t kill it!” He wanted to add the little vermin to his collection. A collection of bugs I might add he has because of lovely person he refers to as his Nai Nai, his other maternal grandmother, and my stepmom.

image from wikipedia
What she lacks in maternal instinct she makes up for in style (image from Wikipedia)

Popular culture will often portray stepmothers as wicked creatures determined to insert a wedge between children of a prior union and the children’s father. They have a beauty that is only skin deep. Self-serving, often jealous, and never ever to be trusted, they are the perfect villains in children’s stories (i.e. Snow White, Cinderella, Hansel & Gretel – depending on what version you read, etc.) Some of my dad’s girlfriends (from my perspective as a child) could have easily fallen into that category had the relationship grown more serious. But luckily, my dad eventually met a woman who understood that there was still a “mom” in the word stepmom.

It couldn’t have been easy for her, marrying into our family. We were three young girls with one awesome mom already. Our things were stored in dad’s house long before any of hers were (even if we only played with them on the weekends), but somehow she managed to find a place. Not by trying to replace our mom, or by trying to be our friend (we were too young for that), but by choosing to act like a parent who just happened to miss the early years (no 3am feedings or dirty diapers – darn! why didn’t I think of that?)

She has loved my boys (and my nieces and nephews) since the day they were born. As far as they are concerned, there is no ‘step’ in their family. She is just another limb on their family tree. She has also spoiled them as much as any other grandparent might. One of these gifts is a clear plastic box designed to collect and store bugs. It’s the kind of gift that makes me, as a parent, question what I did as a child to deserve such ‘generosity.’ My son, on the other hand, thinks it is fantastic and has since set out to fill it with whatever he can find in the yard (or, in this case, hallway). Thus far, we have been blessed with pet stink bugs, snails, and centipedes (the horror!) I might see a box of creepy crawlies, but he sees them as new friends, all thanks to his Nai Nai.

The hallway bug in this story ‘got away’ (to a beautiful porcelain home complete with indoor plumbing) and won’t be joining the ‘family’ anytime soon (so sad), but my stepmom has shown my sons that when you let it, love can find a way no matter its origin.

Happy Mother’s Day

To wait or not to wait, that is the question

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

The number 4 stares back at me on the computer screen.

It is my eldest son’s waitlist position for the school he is currently attending and the number meant he had only moved up one position in a month’s time. When I first learned that he was placed on a waitlist I thought there must be a mistake. I mean he is already a student there. Why wouldn’t there be a seat with his name on it? I called the school and was told I would have to talk to the county representative managing student assignment, which I did.

The county assured me they would look into the matter.

To be fair, everyone I have dealt with thus far has been extremely polite and considerate, my son’s placement is nothing personal. Which is the problem. The existing system is based on numbers whether they be data points or funding dollars, rather than students and their families.

The county school system lists a multitude of options. There are public schools operating on the traditional calendar, charter schools, magnet schools, and schools that have year round calendars. Thus far, the year round calendar has been a wonderful experience. We only had to plan for three weeks of additional care at a time and could space out our vacations accordingly minimizing the impact on our jobs. At the end of each three to five-week break, my son would be itching to get back to his friends and could actually still remember many of the lessons he learned before the end of the break.

Therefore I was annoyed to learn that the county had arbitrarily placed my son in a school operating on a traditional calendar with a three-month summer break, especially at a school not even fully constructed yet. I was invited to apply to transfer my son back to his existing school. Five minutes after the web portal was opened, I had uploaded my request. A counter at the bottom told me I was the ninth request of the morning.

At the time, I wasn’t too concerned he wouldn’t eventually get back in. I had done some reading on the selection criteria and everything seemed to indicate that his transfer request would only be a formality.WCPSS School Selection Criteria

I later learned that the site left off some small print. The county is trying to fill the new school and this guarantee was really just for rising fourth or fifth graders. My annoyance turned quickly to anger mixed with helplessness. I had to watch as my son’s eyes welled up as I told him he might not be with his friends next year and unless four other children are placed elsewhere, and couldn’t do a thing about it.

I try to make the best of any situation I can’t fully control. I am a firm believer that things work out the way they are supposed to, but I also believe you have to take a stand from time to time, which is why I am now struggling. It’s a lot harder to be easy going when it’s your child being affected. Should I continue to fight for where I think my son belongs because it makes the most sense for our family today? Or is this a sign that I need to embrace other changes?

red or blue pill
“You take the blue pill, the story ends. You wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.” – from the Matrix, image courtesy of flickr

I am a fan of the show Mad Men, now in its last season. I will avoid spoilers for those who haven’t yet seen this week’s episode, but the entire episode was about the life not lived. It was purely coincidental that I watched it the night I learned that my son is now number four on the list. It is also coincidental that the number four is the least lucky number in the Chinese language. It is a good thing I am not overly superstitious…or is it?

But what if it isn’t coincidence? What if, like my son, I have been stuck on a waitlist, only unlike him, my number is being called? What if the universe has practically put up a neon sign and I’m just too illiterate to read it? If so, how long will the universe wait before moving on to the next in line?

“If you want something you’ve never had, you’ve got to do something you’ve never done” – Thomas Jefferson

But what do you do when you’d also like to keep the something you had?

Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

When life throws you lemons, make lemonade. That is unless you are a multimillion dollar food conglomerate, in which case why are people throwing lemons your way? Can’t you pay for high-quality reusable shipping cartons to minimize the risk of bruising? But I digress.

Happy Lemon

This weekend ended much like any other weekend. The kids were tucked into bed dreaming dreams of firetrucks and / or monkeys while the hubby (who has now requested I refer to him as Lamont – my apologies to Lamonts) and I enjoyed a few hours of child-free television. Lamont was kind enough to pour me a lemonade. It wasn’t the fresh squeezed, homemade variety, but it would do. Ahh, I thought as I took a sip. Spring had finally arrived. I’d better enjoy the weather now as all too soon neon yellow pollen would fill the air and coat every surface in sight. I took another sip, savoring the sweet and sour taste.

I shifted from my spot on the couch. I couldn’t get comfortable. A weight seemed to press up against my lungs no matter which way I sat. It was almost like being pregnant without the hormones. I took another sip while I sought a position that would relieve the pressure.

No amount of movement seemed to work. My breath became more shallow, my skin more hot to the touch. I turned to Lamont and calmly said, “I can’t seem to breathe.”

“What do you mean you can’t breathe?!” (I have a long history of understating things with regards to my health.)

“Is my face red? My skin is on fire.”

I looked in the mirror. Sure enough, both cheeks were brilliant lobster red. Another red stain spread down the center of my chest.

“I think I might be allergic to something in the lemonade.” (I am also a master at stating the obvious. It really should be on my business cards.)

Up until this point, if you had asked me if I had any allergies I would have said yes, to bee stings (something else I learned from an unfortunate experience), but now I know my body is still able to learn new tricks. Yay!

Confused LemonWe read the juice label as I took a Benedryl. Ingredients listed were water, sugar, and lemon juice. All words I could pronounce. All ingredients I enjoy in other forms on a fairly regular basis. Definitely nothing I expected to trigger an allergic response. The product advertised that it was all natural. Was it possible that some bees were accidentally ground up (naturally of course) in the manufacturing process along with the lemons?

The next morning (thank you Benedryl) I fired up the computer to see if anyone else might have written about a similar complaint. I learned my reaction is considered rare (lucky me!), but I also learned a few things about the juice manufacturing process that aren’t exactly advertised. Being the great moderately acceptable parent that I am, I feel it is important to practice sharing (even if it is a little off my usual topics).

For example, I learned that as part of the preserving process all chemical that give a naturally squeezed juice its flavor are removed leaving behind a tasteless liquid that no one would buy. The manufacturers then put in flavor and scent packets to give the juice back its, umm… err… juiciness depending on the tastes of a specific market. They don’t have to declare the specific make-up of these packets on the labels because they are supposed to be based on derivatives of the base ingredients (It’s a Fruit Loop-hole). A little citrus by-product here, a pitch of black magic rind there. Voila! Bon Appetit!

lemonscaryThese flavor packets can change depending on where the fruit is harvested and when and can be created by third party designers. Therefore not only do I still not know exactly what it was that caused the reaction, I also have no idea whether this was a one-off reaction or if more products could affect me in a similar fashion. Breakfast could become my own version of Russian Roulette! (Don’t ever leave me, coffee…)

You aren’t supposed to judge a book by its cover (except for mine because my cover is awesome), but I didn’t realize you weren’t to judge a product by its label too (up until now I thought that was the point of the thing). Maybe one of these days I’ll learn a lesson the easy way. Here’s to truth in advertising!

On your mark, get ready to race…

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it
Monster Jam, Anaheim Stadium, Anaheim, CA
Image courtesy of Flickr

My eldest son is currently enrolled in year-round school which means that he goes to school for nine weeks and has a three-week break. As our day jobs don’t provide the same flexibility of schedule (especially after two weeks of snow days), and because the last time we left kiddo unsupervised for a significant period of time he racked up over $90 in app store charges (time to change ye ole password), we decided it was best to find him some alternative dedicated care for his next break. Thankfully his various grandparents offered to take him in.

We packed his bags and sent him on his way leaving his brother, aka my Little Lord Tyrant, as the sole representative of their generation. I’ll refer to him as LT from hereon for simplicity. Based on previous days apart, I had expected LT to wander around the house in search of his brother. There was wandering, but it wasn’t in search of his brother, it was in search of his brother’s things. It was enough to make me wonder if LT had actually been the one to purchase all those apps in the first place (he is diabolical like that).

Being a second born myself, I thought at first how nice it must be for him to be the center of mommy and daddy’s attention for a few days, but as they say, power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. “Blaze! Bouncy Tires,” my boy demanded for the 100th time in two days (the DVR is both blessing and curse). Resistance would be futile, and everyone knew it.

For those of you who have not had the good fortune to have caught this show, it is about a monster truck named Blaze and his monster truck friends who have adventures structured around words like adhesion and inertia (it’s actually a pretty good show…on the first few viewings). Each episode features a song about the episode’s topic, many of which catchy enough to remain stuck in your memory for the next fortnight, but not enough for you to particularly enjoy them being there.

The show has only been on the air for a single season meaning there are only a few episodes, but as far as my son is concerned they could have stopped at one, “Bouncy Tires.”

Summary:

Human mechanic orders tires that bounce instead of roll (why these were originally ordered is never explained. There are also tires covered in feathers. It is best not to question her supply chain management strategy). A talking truck which looks like a dinosaur installs them without mechanic’s permission and without understanding the consequences. High stakes drama (gasp – will Blaze reach his friend in time?!?) and problem-solving ensues.

As the theme song began, I desperately sought a diversion. Thankfully I recently received a copy of “What If” by Randall Munroe. The book’s tagline states it is a book about scientific answers to absurdly hypothetical questions. Yep, that’ll do.

Speaking of questions, why is it that children so love watching a single show over and over again while the same activity threatens to transform an adult brain into a quivering pile of gray pink goo?

The answer (according to The Atlantic) is because repetition is the easiest way to process information. There is so much their growing minds are trying to process day in and day out that seeing the same show, or reading the same book for the millionth time is like a vacation. Repetition then is chocolate for your brain. Yes, it can potentially cause rot and decay if used to excess, but can make a number of new ingredients a lot less threatening.

“Here, try these roasted grasshoppers!”

“I’ll pass.”

“They are covered in chocolate…”

“How much chocolate?”

“Triple dipped.”

“Hmm, maybe just one.”

Full disclosure – I’ll try any food at least once (except dog – you have to draw the line somewhere).

As I mentioned last week, I have finished rewrites for my second novel and am in the process of polishing it to a high gloss (or at least an eggshell finish), but then what? Do I wait for feedback and give my creative mind some time off? That would be the easy thing to do, but then it would make getting back into the creative habit that much harder. Like LT, I have to keep up my routine. I guess then the only choice will be to begin work in earnest on my next project while I wait.

…1, 2, 3, Let’s Blaze!

At least I get to keep my miles

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

I was standing in the middle of a pre-dawn parking lot in Florida dressed in a crumpled tee-shirt and pajama bottoms waiting for the booming horn and pulsing strobe light to signal it was safe to return inside the building while hoping beyond hope that my boss wouldn’t see me. Actually I preferred no one see me. This is not how I planned to start my day.

Some of my Asian based colleagues were visiting the US and several of us were asked to accompany them on customer visits. I am not a huge fan of business travel, preferring to sleep in my own bed, or at least travel with my family, but you do what you have to. Perhaps I should have protested a little more.

My travels began yesterday. The first plane was late arriving at its gate. It must have experienced some technical issues earlier on the day. I was immediately hit with a dry heat the moment I entered the cabin. We were told that one of the auxiliaries was out and that air conditioning couldn’t kick back in until we began taxing for take off.

It was a full flight and I was stuck in a middle seat only a row or two from the lavatory. Perhaps it was my proximity to the facilities or perhaps one of the other passengers experienced a bad dinner, but periodically the smell of old fart wafted through the air like some twisted automatic air freshener. We only cruised for thirty minutes, but I felt every one of those minutes.

The next flight wasn’t nearly as notable. There was a brief turbulence that made you feel like you were riding a bull at a rodeo and a rumor of yet another mechanical issue, but overall nothing to compare with the first. Soon I had joined with my traveling colleagues, collected the rental car, and was on my way to our final destination. Along the way, we discussed our itinerary for the following day. We had another round of travel immediately following Thursday’s visits which would take us into the wee hours of Friday morning, however our first meeting of the day Thursday wasn’t until mid-morning.

It was a good thing we discussed the plan while we were still in the car. Although it was close to midnight on a Wednesday night the lobby was anything but empty. Speakers blared as a handful of guests sang karaoke a few feet from the registration desk. It turns out that the hotel hosts karaoke one Wednesday night each month and we were just lucky enough to arrive on the big day. I quickly grabbed my key card and made my way to my room as fast as I could drag my roller bag with me.

As I settled into my room for the night I looked at the clock and was excited to realize I didn’t need to schedule a wake up call. It was a glorious feeling. My youngest has recently figured out how to open doors. I am grateful that he lets me pee alone (most of the time). Sleeping in then is rarely an option, and I was going to make the most of it.

That is, I was, until the fire alarm triggered this morning sending me in all my bleary eyed bedtime splendor out to the hotel’s parking lot. As I darted back inside, after given the all clear, I realized I had a story. You gotta laugh sometimes otherwise you might cry.

This is not the piece I planned to publish today, but just because an opportunity is unexpected it doesn’t mean I won’t seize it. I had scheduled a short piece announcing that I had finished re-writing my second novel from end to end and that it just needed a bit more polishing. It was a piece about celebrating small victories. And I am celebrating that milestone. Or at least I will be. Later. Much, much later. Right now, I will settle for just celebrating another cup of coffee.

Isn’t travel grand? At least I get to keep my miles.

Luxury travel
Not even close to my typical business travel experience (image from flickr)