On a Jet Plane

Check that out! I'm totally breaking my "two posts in one day" rule! I am leaving at a ridiculously early hour tomorrow to fly out to be with Shannon for a bit. She's beyond happy that I'm coming. We'll see how long that happy mood lasts. I'm told by a little bird that she hasn't been doing her exercises so I need to get her to step it up. You know that's a task this old girl can take on.

And check out the list of followers. Yeah, that's right... Follower #7!!! She thought I would nickname her "Lack of Boobs," but given the time and attention she's given to make her girls appear larger than they are, I can't bring myself to do that. For now, I'll call her Fly Girl, not sure if it'll stick. I met Fly Girl on Sugar's first day of preschool, nearly six years ago. During that time, I've watched her mature from a swinging single girl to a married  mama. She always treated both my girls very well. As a matter of fact, when Spice was really little and in trouble at daycare, they'd say, "Do you want to go and sit with Fly Girl?" Basically the equivalent of going to the principal's office. Spice would say, "Sure" and go hang out with her pal. It never occurred to her that she was in trouble!

Fly Girl now works for an airline and generously gave me one of her Buddy Passes to visit with my girl. Truly, there isn't a way that I can think of to thank her for her kindness. She's even kept in touch on the lightest flights, so my Stand By status doesn't leave me stranded at some crappy airport. I will say that I'm not sure I appreciate her gloating about me having to drag my fat ass out of bed at 3:30 am, but given her generosity, I'll let it slide.

I don't know how much I'll be blogging, if at all... Perhaps a short update, maybe a few notes posted that I can elaborate on later, we'll see. I wish you all a fantabulous week and hope that life treats you kindly. If not, I'll be back on Tuesday to help you kick some ass.

xoxo
Ice Princess

Confirmation

When I found out last Thursday, I was pissed. Then, I settled down and my pissed off-ness turned to devastation. I was so sad for this girl… 18 years old with her whole life ahead of her. Before you begin the journey into adulthood, it’s best to be armed with a high school diploma. I don’t care what you have or don’t have, but there’s nothing more important than that piece of paper. Sure you can get a GED, but in my mind, it shows that you quit something, sometime during the 12 year process and took a test instead.

There were several ways I could have handled the news. My initial reaction was to call her up and yell at her. I wanted to tell her what an important thing she screwed up. She spent twelve years working towards something and fucked it up. I could ignore it and pretend I knew nothing about the situation and let someone else try to help her out. After all, I am not her mother. Or I could do my best for this kid and see what we could do to fix this mess.

My dad told EN about it on Saturday, so I called them when I got home, knowing that they knew. I pretended like I had just heard myself. I asked what the story was and I was told that the school and the guidance counselor screwed up and she didn’t have enough credits to graduate. Knowing that she had been enrolled in a night school class because she was short credits, I said that I thought she probably failed something. As is usually the case, I was told that I was wrong. My sister told them the counselor screwed everything up, so it must be true.

After speaking with my parents, I texted my niece. I asked her how she was doing and if she needed help. “Help with what,” says she. I told her I had heard she wouldn’t be graduating and wondered what needed to be done to make that happen. That offer opened the floodgates and she texted right back, “It wouldn’t be an issue if that douchebag Psychology teacher would just give me two points so I would pass.” Interesting. So I asked her, “Did you earn those two points?” She finally settled down and told me that she was a ½ credit short and would need to go to summer school. I then offered to pay for school, but she would have to live with me while she was taking class. Call it “protecting my investment,” if you will. If I’m dishing out money to help her, you better believe she’s going to be near enough to me so that I can ride her ass constantly.

I texted my sister at that point, to tell her my idea. She responded that she was going to try to get a meeting with the teacher and get the principal involved. I was dying to ask why nothing had been done yet. It’s now Saturday, they got this news Thursday, where’s the holdup? Then she told me the same thing she had told my parents: the counselor messed up. Our conversation was going nowhere good so we just stopped communicating.

On Sunday, I asked my niece for the name of her guidance counselor and told her I’d try to get us in there Monday morning to talk with her. I decided to email instead,  and got an answer nearly right away. I was informed that because my niece was now 18, she could designate anyone to see her school records. A few emails back and forth and we had an appointment for 11 am. I asked the counselor to have academic and attendance records available for me to look at.

So, it was weird going back to my old high school. It looks almost nothing like it used to but it still smelled the same and felt the same. I got there early enough to stop in and see an old teacher. I was amused to see that he’s still the same guy I remember: same gestures, same laugh.

We met with the counselor and found out that my niece had been accepted into the night school graduation. This thrilled my niece because it meant no summer school. It is a diploma, but it is not from a high school. I asked her if that’s what she absolutely wanted to do and she said yes. Then the counselor slid the information I requested towards me. While I was looking over her transcript, my niece started to argue the F she got in Military History, saying that she had done “all the work, well except  some.” The counselor said, “You need to go to class to pass.” She started to argue that she had been and the counselor took back one of the attendance printouts and said, “You missed 23 days in that class since the beginning of February.” More arguing from my niece, etc. Apparently it’s common knowledge that schools, counselors and teachers LIE about who’s in class!

The information in the documents was astounding: 20 absences and 60 tardies this school year alone. Let’s do some math, shall we? That means that over 40% of the time, she was either late or not there at all. Her academic transcript was even more interesting. Her GPA is a stellar 1.52 and her class ranking is 437 out of 500 or so. She had four years to earn 27 credits, but in grades 9 and 10 she didn’t even earn six credits each year. There are 31 final grades listed, seven of those are Fs, 11 are Ds. To be fair, I should mention that there is one A and 4 Bs.

So yes, I do believe my sister’s assessment is correct: the school obviously fucked up here (sarcasm font!). It’s apparent that she worked hard throughout her entire high school career. What exactly it was that she was working on is beyond me.

I’m not sure who I’m more upset with: the kid who never tried or the mother that saw this problem looming for four years and did absolutely nothing about it. I also struggle with nature vs. nurture in this situation: should an 18-year-old know better, know to go to class and be on time each day? Should they know that without being taught? Or do they simply repeat the same behaviors they see, and the behaviors they’ve used in the past with no consequences?

I am still tremendously sad. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

It's Important to Me...

The other night I told the girls that before they went to sleep they should pray for the Bruins to kick ass. Spice lit up and said, “You are gonna let us say ASS to God?!” Why not? Just this once, it’s practically a special occasion. They trotted off to bed, prayed for the ass-kicking and fell right to sleep.

Yes, horrified readers, I let the girls use the word “ass.” If that makes me a bad mother in your eyes, that’s ok with me. Because unlike you, there is a group of people who think I am an uptight, rigid, pain-in-the-ass mother. What with my being a stickler for following laws and rules and all. I force my kids to sit in their car seats with seat belts on, I don’t let them call shotgun and sit in the front seat and I force them to go to school on a regular basis. Call the authorities, there is abuse going on over here!

There are rules in my house, some can be broken, some cannot. I’ll allow the word “ass” in a song or when Daddy’s team is playing a big game. I’ll allow ice cream for dinner if it’s hot and I don’t feel like cooking. I allow the girls to keep their rooms looking like dumps and I let them dress like train wrecks as long as the important parts are covered. Bedtime is somewhat flexible on non-school nights, and the place where they choose to sleep varies.

I am not flexible when it comes to treating others respectfully and kindly. There is hell to pay when this rule is broken. Ask the Sandbox Bully how her night went after her shenanigans earlier this week. We keep our bathroom clean, clothes in the hamper, help around the house and always say “please” and “thank you.”

My biggest sticking point is related to the education of my girls. One of the greatest gifts that I can give them as a mother is my support, involvement and encouragement in their educations. That is not to say I volunteer for every field trip, attend PTA meetings, and act as room mother.  It IS to say that I know what’s going on with my child’s education EVERY SINGLE DAY. We talk about their school days (if I haven’t already had a *ahem* report from a teacher). We work on their homework together and we absolutely read and work on spelling words daily. I’m sure as they get older, they will want me to me less involved with their schooling and I will let go. If there ever comes a time when their grades are less than stellar, you bet your ass I’ll be all over them again.

In my opinion, getting your child through school is a two-part process. First, they have a school to go to every day and a teacher (or teachers) that teach them. Second, they have parents or other family members that guide them and encourage them to do well in school. It is my job as a parent  to make sure my kids are well rested and fed before being sent off to school. It’s my job to send them to school regularly, no sick days for hangnails! It’s my job to make sure their homework is done to the best of their ability (even though I really want to do the damn math myself and get it over with faster). It is my job to provide them a clean, quiet place where they can do their homework with my assistance when they need it. It is my job to know how my girls are doing in their classes at all times. I do this by asking the girls how their respective days were. If I have questions, I check in with the teacher. I do this by looking over every progress report and report card and again, if I have questions, I check in with their teacher. Their teachers know me by sight and by name. That way, if there’s ever an issue, they are comfortable addressing it with me.

By teaching my girls to be hard-working students, I think I’m giving them a good foundation for college, if that’s what they choose… and for their careers. They will have learned that some days you don’t feel that great, but you still need to go to work. They’ll learn that they have to do the job they are paid to do, even when their boss is an asshole. There are times to be flexible, and there are times when you need to put up and shut up and get through. It’s all about putting forth effort and succeeding.

Yesterday my heart was broken because of a failure out my control. I can point the finger at her and say she didn’t really try, but I can also say that she was never really taught to respect the opportunities that education would provide for her.

I started with prayer talk, and I’ll end with that too: “God, Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.” There’s nothing that I could have done about yesterday that ever would have made a damn bit of difference. The situation was out of my control and I need to accept that.

xoxo

Ice Princess 

Inappropriate Laughter

One of my worst habits is laughing at inappropriate times. Shows like “America’s Funniest Videos” were made for people like me. I howl with delight when someone gets hit with a baseball bat, breaks a chair when they sit in it, or falls just walking down the street. When watching the show, it’s ok to laugh, but in real life, sometimes laughing is inappropriate.

I was once away with a group of friends and someone was goofing off and broke a glass at the house we were renting. I laughed my head off, couldn’t help it. They yelled at me because something had BROKEN and we were all going to be in TROUBLE. I laugh hysterically when my boss tells a story from when he was young and a friend of his got knocked in the head with a candlepin bowling ball. Now all he has to do is mimic a ball smacking into his forehead and I’m in stitches.

I laugh at myself too. I once fell in an icy parking lot when I was about seven months pregnant with Sugar. I ripped my nylons to shreds and had to go into a business meeting like that. The fall happened in front of a ton of people and it hurt, but I stood up and laughed about it… all in an effort to not cry.

One time EN fell off a ladder when he electrocuted himself. Another time, his sister popped the clutch on the motorcycle he was teaching her to ride and the bike rode up his leg and left a skid mark on his jeans before it stalled. Both those incidents could have ended tragically and what was I doing? Yep, you guessed it, I was laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe. Even picturing both those situations over ten years later, I’m still trying to contain my laughter, silently shaking in my chair.

It should come as no surprise then, when I hear that one of my children has behaved badly, my first reaction is to laugh. This week Spice did something very naughty and I was spoken to by the owner of the day care she goes to. Let me back up and say that countless times over the years I have watched this woman natter on to parents about their kids’ bad days in a public forum. In five years I have never been in those shoes and thought I was home free as we will be leaving the daycare in just over two weeks. Thank you Spice for ruining a near-perfect run.

It appears that on Monday, Spice grabbed onto a little boy playing in the sandbox and pulled him by the neck of the shirt. She then proceeded to dump handfuls of sand down his shirt. Meanwhile, one of her boyfriends stood in front of this little boy and slapped him across the face repeatedly. This is bad, bad, very bad behavior. I am distraught that my child would do something like that to another kid, especially seeing as it’s someone she likes. That’s on the outside. On the inside, I’m laughing so hard I’m afraid the giggles will come bubbling out. How the hell did this happen? Was it a planned attack or spur-of-the-moment? I have asked her over and over why she did something like that and she just shrugs and says she doesn’t know why.

For those of you that are horrified by me laughing at the Sandbox Bully, I can assure you that she was punished to the fullest extent of Ice Princess Law. Furthermore, she never had any idea that I was laughing on the inside.

I don’t know why I laugh at inappropriate times. Maybe it’s to cover another reaction, like crying or screaming. Maybe I’m laughing out of sheer relief when the situation could have ended badly? Or perhaps I’m just laughing while my brain scrambles around trying to find the right thing to say.

In any case, I apologize in advance if I ever laugh at you. I hope it helps you to know that I always laugh harder at myself than I do at anyone else. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Stars are in Proper Alignment

It has been a while since I mentioned my pal Shannon. She had her surgery in May, but the recovery process hasn’t been as smooth as everyone thought it would be. She seems to have suffered a small stroke while still in the hospital and has some issues with her right side. She stayed in the hospital a few extra days but has been home for a while now. We’ve talked a few times, and then she texted me last week to let me know she had fluid in her lungs and was having it drained out.

I called her last Thursday because she suddenly stopped answering texts. She told me that she’s having issues with her right hand and couldn’t text that well. I could tell that she wasn’t feeling great and that she was a little depressed. I did the only thing a friend of 30 years could do: I bullied her. I poked at her and cornered her. I begged her to let me come out and help her. At first she put up a good fight, like she has since she first mentioned the surgery. Then I pulled the gloves off and said, “What would you do if it was me in your shoes?” I knew I won when there was silence on the phone for a second.

We started talking about dates and said that in two weeks there would be no one with her during the day. Since we have so much going on, I told her I thought I could probably make it in July. She said that was fine and she was looking forward to my visit. I started pricing tickets immediately and found the best prices and reminded myself to call her with options this week.

Last week I had also emailed her mother to see how things were going. I knew Shannon was likely glossing over a few things. Her mom had been out of work taking care of Shannon last week and didn’t respond until Monday. She said that it was probably a great idea for me to come out as Shannon wasn’t in a very good place at the moment, and was also starting rehab soon.

Just for kicks, I looked up airline tickets for next week, knowing she’d need help then. I found some for the same price as my trip in July. The only issue was that I would miss my niece’s high school graduation. Had her graduation been something that she worked hard for and was proud of, I might have had a harder time not being there. I texted my niece and she said she didn’t mind if I wasn’t there. Of course not, I already gave her a gift!

Traveling on the 15^th meant that I had a week and a half to clear my plan with EN and the girls, ask for time off, find someone to sit with the girls while EN was at work, beg my mother not to be pissed at me for missing the graduation, and on it went. EN was on board immediately and told me to do what I needed to do. My mother-in-law said she’d stay with the girls, and as I thought, my mother was pissed. Because that was something that needed to be ok, I pretty much decided to wait until July. She called me back an hour later and apologized (holy shit, there may be an apocalypse) and told me to go. My boss answered my email immediately and gave me the requested time off. All that was left to do was discuss it with the girls and book the travel.

On my way home I called Shannon and asked if next week was still good. She sounded so very excited when she heard I might be coming that soon. I picked the girls up and we discussed the trip. Both knew it was on the horizon, and were a little shocked that I would go so soon, but they were both behind me going.

After the girls went to bed, I texted a friend that works at the local airport and asked if she would be working next Wednesday. It had been months since I have seen her and I wanted to visit while I was at the airport. She asked me where I was going and I told her. She texted me back and asked me not to buy a ticket as she gets “buddy passes” as an employee of Southwest Airlines.

I try to do nice things for people as often as possible. It honestly shocks the shit out of me when something like that happens to me. I bawled like a baby. I cried so hard the tears fell off my face and landed on my boobs. Not a pretty sight. For the life of me, I couldn’t stop crying. I kept thanking my friend and she told me that she likes to “pay it forward” when she can.

Other than the mundane tasks of packing and making sure the house is in order before I leave, everything is in place for me to leave in a week. I told Shannon I would cook for her, clean for her, drive her around, basically whatever she needed. I’m picturing something halfway between “Driving Miss Daisy” and “Thelma and Louise” and I can’t wait.

Spice probably said it best when she told me that I needed to “put a little love in her heart.” Yes, definitely, that’s my number one priority next week. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Triple Play

When you sign your kids up for activities like dance and ice skating there’s always a show at the end of the season. The lessons focus on learning new moves, but an equally important component is the practice for the all-important recital.

When we signed the girls up for their activities through this last school year, we had no idea that the dance and ice skating recitals would be on the same day. When the dates were announced we told Spice that she would need to choose only one recital to participate in. She chose ice skating and she let the dance instructor know. When I picked her up from daycare that day she told me that the dance instructor told her that she was “needed” for the show. That same message was replayed by the daycare owner as I walked out. I asked her for the show time and told her I would see if we could make it work. We got the times for both shows and decided that if the stars were in alignment, we could attend both. Yesterday was the big day.

The day started early with me running around the house attempting to get my three little ducklings organized and out the door. EN is not the best helper in the world when it comes to sticking to a schedule and getting somewhere ON TIME. I spent the morning screaming with my drill sergeant hat firmly in place.

The night before we had gone to a dress rehearsal for the skating show. Sugar’s coach gave me grief about Sugar having missed two practices. The routine had changed and Sugar had no idea what she was doing. Rather than calling her a stupid bitch and smacking her like I wanted to, I told her that I take my kids’ activities very seriously and she missed the practices for a very good reason. One practice was held the same day as my graduation and we didn’t know about the other practice until 1 ½ hours beforehand. She told me to have Sugar at the rink “by noon at the absolute latest” so she could practice more with her. I repeated “noon?” and she said, “at the ABSOLUTE LATEST.” I assumed that meant to be there even earlier.

We got to the rink around 11:20 and I was pissed to learn that the coach was busy doing other stuff and they weren’t even going to practice on the ice, they were just going to do the routine in the locker room before the show. I know these coaches put a lot into teaching the kids and I might have been less angry if I didn’t know that this woman once told someone we know in common that she didn’t realize that Sugar even had a mother. Now when I see her, steam comes out my ears. EN has always brought the girls to their skating lessons on Saturday morning because that’s when I did the bulk of my homework when I was in school. Whoever would have thought that would make Sugar and Spice look like “motherless children.”

The skating recital started on time and was fantastic. Sugar performed her routine like she’s known it for months. Spice skated with her serious “don’t look at me and don’t scream my name” face. It makes me tremendously proud to see them do so well, especially because I can barely skate. What I really liked about this show is that they allowed the kids to stand along the glass and watch the entire thing. In many cases the kids are kept backstage or in locker rooms and don’t get to see what else goes on.

When the show was over we bolted to the car and barely left the rink when we were in a car accident. We barely felt the bump and everyone is ok. I have been complaining about my car and considering trading it in because the cost of gas is killing me. Now I’m glad we had the Jeep. Our rear bumper will need to be replaced but the other car looked to be totaled. EN got out and called the police and dealt with the insurance and the cop came over to the car to see if we were all right. He said we’d be on our way shortly and I laughed and snapped my fingers at him and said, “Get moving, we have another recital to get to.” Thankfully he had a great sense of humor and laughed.

We got home and had about an hour to “relax” and get Spice ready for her dance recital. I dressed her, redid her hair and face and we were off. Another super-cute show. I just love watching them perform the routines they’ve worked so hard at. I’ve watched Spice do her numbers at home a thousand times and probably could have gotten up there and done them right next to her.

It’s also nice to have the rest of the family and some friends along to see the girls in their various performances. My nephew watches Sugar skate and tells me that she’s better than anyone else. My parents and EN’s mother always seem to enjoy the shows too. Spice and Payton’s favorite guy came to watch the show as well. The girls noticed him in the audience when they were on stage and were happy to see him there. Unfortunately for Ben, the evening turned sour when Spice squawked at him for trying to kiss her. Ben needs to choose a nicer girlfriend.

The girls left with my parents and EN and I headed out for Part Three of our day: another Dueling Piano show. This time we met up with a group of about 20, including my sister, Tiny Mike and their friends. The only friend I had along was Skinny Bitch and her sister. As always I worry before mixing people, but it’s really hard to not have fun at a show like this. Everyone had their game on and danced, sang and carried on like we were playing the dashboard drums and singing in the shower. I had the pleasure of sitting between Tiny Mike and Skinny Bitch for part of the night and they called each other by their nicknames.

I had met Skinny Bitch’s sister once and she seemed like a nice lady. I was stunned when this nice lady whooped it up with the best of them and knew every single word to Buckcherry’s “Crazy Bitch.” I told Skinny Bitch this morning that they are now to be called The Bitch Sisters: Skinny and Crazy.

The night was not drama-free. One guy came with both his girlfriends. One knows about the other, one does not. I stayed away from them for fear of telling him exactly what I thought of his behavior. Another in the group started hitting on some woman and wouldn’t drop it, so her husband got pissed. EN’s hockey team lost which made him very unhappy.

In all, it was an exhausting day but if I had to do it all over again, I would.

xoxo 

Ice Princess 

Boobalicious!

Boobs have always been a hot topic in our house. Sugar talked about them a bit when she was little, but Spice has always been infatuated. Perhaps I nursed her too long, who knows. She grabbed hold of my friend Cindy’s when she was real little and as soon as she could speak in a complete sentence, she asked the Director of her daycare, “Miss Kim, where are your boobs?” Thankfully Kim had a good sense of humor about it and found Spice’s comment to be hysterical.

I recently started rereading the old books I bought for my friend, so I could know what she was talking about when she called to discuss, and found myself laughing again through, “We must, we must, we must increase our bust” in Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret by Judy Blume. I’m pretty sure every girl who was a preteen in my era remembers this. It’s a book that should still be read as many of the issues are timeless.

For example, take the issue of Margaret and her friends discussing the girl who developed before anyone else. It’s interesting to see their perceptions of the poor girl, and how they never gave her a chance to prove that she really is just like them. It was probably worse for her as she was the one that actually had to walk around with boobs when no one else had them yet. There’s really no way to hide a rack.  

Sugar came home from school this week and told me that her BFFL has been making fun of two girls in their class because they have to wear bras. She’s apparently been gossiping about these girls behind their backs. Sugar maintains that she didn’t participate and even said, “That’s really mean.” If she stood up for the other girls, I’m quite proud of her. We talked again about how some people develop earlier, some later, and how uncomfortable it can be for those girls. I really hope that she truly is as sensitive to these girls as she tells me she is.

I’m bothered on so many levels about this specific issue. As a female, it’s probably because I was lucky enough to be endowed at a young age. I can remember the looks. Even better was the time a football player whipped a volleyball at my chest. I swear they are still swollen and that’s why they’re so big. Really, it could be true.

As a mother my heart breaks for these girls and I hope Sugar doesn’t have a hard time. She’s so little and skinny, it’ll be very obvious once she develops. I discuss this endlessly with Skinny Bitch because we have daughters the same age.  However, Skinny Bitch’s daughter has had the good fortune of developing early. I’m in awe of how laid back her daughter is about her body. She doesn’t care that she has to wear a bra. She doesn’t care that it might stick out a little in a sleeveless dress. She’s ok with her body and I’m amazed by that. I think it speaks volumes about how she’s been raised. I hope that Sugar and Spice are the same way when their time comes.

Skinny Bitch and I have also discussed other issues that we’ll soon face, if we haven’t already: body odor, shaving, periods. We have much to look forward to! We have both addressed the body odor issue by providing our little Stinky Pit Pre-Teens with deodorant. We are stumped about shaving: do you shave your girls’ underarms for the first time, or just hand them a razor and let them have at it? And periods, well, that’s just all bad and there’s no fun way to discuss THAT. Of course there are many other topics that I can’t even allow myself to think of at this point.

While Sugar contemplates the body changes facing she and her friends in the near future, Spice keeps focused on her beloved Barbie princesses. A recent bedtime conversation:

Spice: Mama, that’s Prince Eric, Ariel’s boyfriend.

Me: Oh? I thought they got married?

Spice: Oh no, Mama! He’s not going to marry her. He’s going to marry the octopus because she has big boobs! 

xoxo

Ice Princess