When did kids become an absolute?

Recently, and believe me it is still stinging my eyes, one of my kids was labeled to be sent home this week. Your question is "What happened?" This is my story, and granted this situation is not a dire as most but I am still mad as a hornet.

I brought the kids to school, all is well until a phone call at 2:30 in the afternoon stating one of my small children has had an BM episode which soiled his clothes. Why pretty it up? He had a diarrhea episode. You know those mystical moments where a child's body for it's own reason has expunged what ever it did not want. Usually only one and then he moves onto bigger and better things. Kids, you never know what to expect and least of all try to mom diagnose why it has happened. Mostly I have ideas or theories but no solid proof.

So back to the phone call......
Please come and pick up your child.
I say I can not, and the other caretakers are unavailable. What is the problem?
Well he has had a diarrhea episode and you need to pick him up.
Does he have a fever?
No.
Has he been eating?
Yes.
Is he playing?
Yes.
Is his demeanor changed from his normal personality?
No.
Is he drinking?
Yes.
Has he had another episode of diarrhea?
No.
So why is he asked to go home? I was told if the diarrhea continued after one episode the child would have to go home. What happened?
It is our policy to sent kids home if they have diarrhea, because they are sick.

That is where the absolutism has arrived with both feet on my throat. I ask various questions in regard to past policy, explaining I do understand the kids must be protected from illness, however if he is not exhibiting any signs of illness in the past two hours, he is booted after the first "infringement"? Unbending and relentless are they to have me take my kid home. Not only did I receive one phone call, I received a second phone call from an even less informed manager. Same questions, and she thought I was supposed to be there to pick him up. I said have you even walked over to see him? She says no. Have you spoke to the other manager? No. Clearly no communication is taking place other than me quickly becoming irate. Don't placate me, I want honest answers. Even those answers I do not like I will accept if you are not trying to placate me with bull crap. I don't believe I am that unreasonable.

The next phase of this absolutism is the first manager trying to snow ball me into believing that she is not diagnosing my child as sick but when she smelt the odor from the diarrhea it smelt as though he was sick. I said you can't have it both ways, you tell me in the same breath you are not qualified to diagnose but you say it smelled of a sick child. At this point the kids probably should not sneeze for fear of going home. What happened to judgment? What happened to reviewing each situation for what it is? What happened to service?

As a parent of multiple children my workload ( I am not saying any other mom's workload is less, just different and just as important) is tripled, the necessity of having regular attendance at my job is important. I have no room for trivial or frivolous phone calls from caretakers who do not have the sense to look at the whole child and make a educated decision. Kids are not absolute in deed nor in health therefore policies in service industries should have a bit of wiggle room within reason. Look at each situation and evaluate, use the gifts that God gave you, well maybe I should say not everyone took the phone call that day when the sense was handed out, and learn about my kid. I do not bring sick children to school intentionally. I admit sometimes I miss the mark, but my point is every situation is different.

I am working up the courage to sit down with the director to voice my concerns as a parent and someone who pays a lot of money for service. I expect excellent service, not people who shuffle my children to others because they are bothered by the little surprises kids often leave for caretakers.

Anyway, this does not even come close to the whole story. Just frustrated and mad.

How can you let this little face go home?

This is him writing his novel.

I needed a good laugh today

My friend and I have frequent conversations about things that make us laugh. One of the many things are creative advertising. With all the garbage that is on TV today, there are very few things make me really chuckle, belly laugh, or for those who have the fortunate experience, SNORT.

So please enjoy.



Actually they are Pan Troglodytes

To All My Wonderful Mom Friends - and my Mom

A coworker sent this message to me. I do not know who initially wrote the passage but I feel it is very appropriate to share with my friends. So please enjoy.

To All My Wonderful Mom Friends - and my Mom

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'

Obviously not; No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible.

Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again.

She's going, she's going, she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.'

It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'To Charlotte, With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.

The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.'

And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'You're gonna love it there.'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Great Job, Mom!

Just Kid Photos

They are my little joys.

Mini getaway

Well I tried. I am missing my Ethel (Ethel I am truly missing your smiling face, I need to get together with you, coffee?), so I tried to put my Lucy scheme into place by trying to put a beach trip for Emma, Ethan and Abbie together on the mother of all travel weekends, Memorial Day weekend.

Enter Scene. midday Friday afternoon, phone call to the husband

"Bri can you call some places and find us a room near Half Moon Bay, I know there is a crunch but if there is anything close, I really want to take the kids out of town and bring them to the beach."
"Sure, let me make some phones calls."
"Great! Thank you, I will see if mom would like to go."

End of day, home.

"Bri did you check the rooms?"
"No."
"Are you going to check the rooms?"
Exasperated sigh "YES!"

End Scene.

So the short of it is I looked for a room, booked a room, packed the kids, sort of packed myself, since we don't have a printer hooked up to the computer(it has been nine months) I took pictures of the confirmation number and directions with the camera phones, got up at the crack of dawn, no shower (others did take the time for showers), dressed the kids, feed the kids, put them in the car.

The physical items I gathered for the trip was brought to the front door by me and he packed the stuff in the van. The difference between these events is this, I had to go through and make individual lists of contingencies for clothing, sleep wear, how many diapers and wipes would be needed, food supplies, sleeping arrangements, tooth brushes, hair accessories, things for walking, things for playing, the list goes on and on. Once this stuff is gathered it is put into the van. There isn't a lot of planing involved, mostly arranging for space but solving that problem is much simpler.

Disgruntled by questions of "did you bring ______ (fill in the blank)?" Instantly I am defensive and feel if there is something you thought should be brought then I feel you should have made sure it made it into the van. All the while I am saying to myself just put it aside, this trip is for the kids, not me (well, a little for me), no fighting.

Things went pretty well for the first day and a half, we got to the hotel, a nice one I might add (Thanks Hotwire), found a grocery store, kids napping, beach fun ensued. Woke up the next day, got kids ready, ate breakfast, packed the car, made a plan to go to the zoo instead and low and behold the whole trip fell apart. Just as we were walking out the door, the kids were antsy and excited which to some people mimics being undisciplined.

I am here to say it is not, my kids are not perfect but they are disciplined. If you are a parent who is plugged into your kids you will know the difference. Where I failed in this process is making the other parent aware their perception of the behavior was not accurate. I am the voice for my children when others do not understand them. I failed in that duty and as a consequence my children did not get to experience a awe filled day with animals they will never see in their backyard.

The selfishness in thinking "I want these kids to be disciplined and stop crying or we are not leaving this room" and laying an ultimatum to small children who barely understand the concept of patience for anything is pure shite. It is selfishness, pettiness, and putting your tantrum above and beyond what is best for the kids. If you have a bone to pick with me, the kids should not have to suffer the tirade of one parent to another. This vacation was about them, not the parents, it was all about the kids. I am disappointed in myself as a parent that I did not defend my children's vacation. I am disappointed in myself as a parent that I did not defend my children's behavior adequately. I am disappointed in the children's other parent for putting himself before the children. I am disappointed in the children's other parent for not recognizing their behavior of excitement as being undisciplined. All I can say is plug into their lives in a positive manner.

After all of this is said, I do have some happy kid pictures I would like to share.

How doth my garten grow? Very fast.

I have been thinking about this subject since April 25, 2003, the thought has intensified on October 28, 2005, I don't believe I will ever be the same.

Dialing the phone: ringing
"Linden Elementary, how may I help you?"
Hi, my name is Kymn and I have a daughter who will be attending your school, and well I am a, well a new mom, I have no idea how to register my daughter.
"::giggle:: Well that is not a problem, I can help you with that. Let me tell you what you will need to bring for open registration in the Spring."
Thank you very much!

Kindergarten as defined by Merriam-Webster Dictionary is a school or class for children usually from four to six years olds.
Entomology: German, from Kinder children + Garten garden Date:1852

What happened? She was a dark haired, cooing bundle of person right from the get go and she is now a intelligent, beautiful, auburn hair, brown eyed dynamo ready for, dare I say, Kindergarten. I look at her and wonder how I ever grew this person inside my body and I believe I finally did something worthwhile in my life. I don't have a glamorous job, I am not monetarily endowed, but I have a wonderful daughter ready for Kindergarten. To some this may not be a big deal but for me, tis a very big deal.

My children are growing the normal pace children do, but for me the time has zipped by in a flash. I know many parents will shake their heads in agreement, remembering the first time they noticed their child performed some duty, task, or said something completely out of the blue which hints at the grown up person inside waiting. Ethan is now choosing which Mayer songs he wants to listen to, Abbie is my little responsible one, cleaning up after everyone, and Emma is my big grown up sister and kindergarten student. By the way she wears the badge of Big Sister with honor and pride.

A part of me wants to tuck them all under my arm and snuggle them to my chest just to get the whiff of the baby that is quickly leaving them. There is another part of me looking forward to spending evenings helping with homework, going to activities, hearing the oohs and ahhs of a first time discovery, listening around the corner to the kids complain about how I ALWAYS know what they are doing and wondering if I have magical powers. I do by the way. There is so much to share with them, I know it is going to be great, painful, and rewarding.

So for those mums and dads who have not hit this mark yet, remember to have a certified copy of the birth certificate, current shot records, a utility bill and mortgage to verify the residence address and how long you have lived in said residence and call the school early.

Thinking is a little dangerous

It is certainly strange how I view myself in my mind. I have been living in this body for 38 years, the first seven don't really count because at least for me it wasn't until that time I became aware of form as an image to the rest of the world. And even then this thought was very minimal because really what did I have to worry about?

Now as an adult, there is so much baggage attached to everything I do, see, think, feel, so much so it often hinders my perception of the way somewhere in the back of my mind how life should be. I am envious of those who appear to me to be simply happy. To me that is true wealth, being happy. Not drug induced, ignoring the realities of living happy, just happy, the confidence in knowing who their true self is, and knowing what it is they want to do, even if it for one day.

I guess what I am saying friends, is that I am not in that place with my physical and mental being. I know there is only one person who can spur on the self improvement (which is me) but as I mentally see all the heads nodding, I also know I am not alone in the quest. It is hard, treacherous, and sometimes cruel to get through the muck. What I think it comes down to is that I am scared, to move forward, sideways, or any other way at this moment. Where was I going with this?

I ran into a, well I guess you could call him a friend, from my childhood. I have not seen him in about twenty years, we lived down the street from each other, went to middle school and high school together, a friendly relationship. He was a good guy then and when he came into the office yesterday I would say he is a good guy now. This is where I think I get back to my original point. For those who did not know my in my past life, I was reasonably curvy, never thin, athletically active, anyway that is how my person was when he last saw me. Athletically shaped or reasonably curvy is not how you would describe me now. ::eyes looking up to find the mental image, yeah, not so much:: I know everyone changes, but there is always that little tiny panic, wondering if I will be judged. Anyway, the meeting again was very positive. No matter what ever his initial thought was, he never showed it, and welcomed my presence with gusto and pleasure to see me again. It was like the twenty years had not passed, we briefly caught up on families, talked about the reunion, and told me he wished I was there. He looked me in the eye, never wavered in his conversation with me. This is why I say he still a good guy. He left me with the impression I was the same girl in some respects that I was 20 years ago.

The moral of the story, I still have a lot of growing up to do, and I have some choices/decisions to make in order to find more of that ever so elusive happiness I seek to add to the happiness I do have. Thanks for listening to the ramblings, I do appreciate your kindness and friendship.