Kids Gone Wild

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

Mackenzie:



Dillon:


Dillon's Friends:



Mackenzie went trick-or-treating with friends too, but I forgot to take a picture of them. Duh. It was easier to remember to take a picture of D and his friends as they were loitering around my kitchen and eating pizza.

Oh yeah, and these...

"I am SO humiliated."

"My eyes are burning you with the intensity of 10 blazing suns."

"What? You said I was a Good Dog? Treats for Taiko?"

Carving Pumpkins!

Carving....



And Concentrating...



And Proud...

Homecoming

Homecoming was last night. This is how great Dillon looks in a suit. And there's his girlfriend, "Elaine", and those are his friends:

Queen of Procrastination

Wrote out Halloween cards about 2 weeks ago. They're still sitting on my counter waiting to be addressed.

Typical.

Olympic Hackey-Sacking

When you play hackey sack in your bedroom, you should cover your water...



It was like magic. He kicked it with his foot, it sailed over my head while I was fixing his computer, and swooshed right into his water glass with a soft little plink.

Couldn't do it again in a million years.

Fogging Up The Windows

Took a nap. Now I can see. Still have a dull headache behind my eyeballs.

The Scene: Monday night, dark, rainy, 45 degrees. Dillon is at a Powderpuff Football game but it's getting late.

8:45

Mom on cellphone...

"Hey, Honey! Did you forget to come home?"

"Oh, no... the game is still going on but we're freezing and wet so we're coming home. We're heading to the car right now. I'll take 'Elaine' home and be right there."

9:00 - 9:25

Mom, wondering: "Hmmm... school is 4 minutes away, Elaine lives 5 blocks away..."

9:30 The phone rings (and sends me into the auto-mom-response-to-a-late-night-phone-call-when-the-teenager-is-out-with-the-car: pre-panic)

"Hey Mom, I'm in our parking space, but there is a weird arrow lit up on the dashboard."

"A weird arrow?"

"Yeah, it's orange. It's right under the speedometer."

Mom, thinking...thinking..what could that be?.....................

LIGHTBULB!

"Were you making out in the front seat?"

"Yes."

"You hit the button for "winter mode". By the gearshift. Push it again."

Pause. "Yup, that was it. It's gone."

And he lopes in with a grin.

I love that kid.

Stupid

If I got in my car and drove west for an hour, I'd be in 8 inches of snow.

Instead, I'm here, where it is 42 degrees and raining.

I hate Fall.

Demon Eyes

I can't see shit.

Went to the Eye Doctor today for a checkup. She upped my prescription for my reading glasses... Apparently, my eyes aren't getting any younger and it's getting harder for my muscles to hold them where they are supposed to be. A lot like my boobs and butt.

And she dilated my eyes. I forgot how uncomfortable that was. It feels like someone is trying to suck out my eyeballs with a teeny-tiny plunger. It's giving me a headache. But on the plus side, I am cataract and glaucoma free!

Dillon keeps pulling down my sunglasses and making scary faces at my freakishly black and gigantic pupils.

You Know What I Hate?

When you save a book for three months so that you can read it around Halloween because it's a saga about witches and then you start it and realize that you've already read it but you can't NOT read it because you're on the Metro headed to DC and you're going to be on there for about 45 minutes (each way) and you've got to have SOMETHING to do so as not to have your head explode from sheer and penetrating boredom and then once you're back home you decide that you might as well keep reading it because you've already read about 100 pages and it would be a total waste of time to have spent over an hour reading a book only to put it back on the shelf and start another (and anyway, it shouldn't be a problem if you've forgotten so much about it that you couldn't even remember having read it 15 years ago in the first place) but the more you read, the more you recall and then you start to wonder if you should just quit now, but now you're about 400 pages into a 1000 page book and though that's not an excruciatingly large investment (compared to the total number of pages) it is a significant investment, so you just keep on reading and hoping that it will all go quickly and that you actually liked the book in the whole first place.

That's what I hate.

New Stuff

This is New:



And I really, really like it.

But this looks Stupid:



So now I need a new dryer (even though that one works perfectly).

And these curtains are New:



And I don't really like them.

It looks like my Grandma lives here.

Gratefulness

Ever since Dillon and I were at Walter Reed yesterday, I can't get those men out of my head. They were sitting in the chairs near the pharmacy, leaving the garage, walking through the lobby, in the elevators, the lab, the hallways. Everywhere you turn, young men with missing limbs. And these are the lucky ones... The ones who actually returned from war.

I noticed Dillon watching a guy with a shiny metal prosthetic leg walking into the hospital. He hardly had a limp so that if he'd been wearing pants you wouldn't even know. "A soldier,“ I said. And then it dawned on him: we were at Walter Reed Army Medical Center - the hospital that receives the injured from Iraq & Afghanistan. The man was so young. And vibrant. He was strong and walked with a determination on his face. He didn’t look Proud, exactly, maybe Noble is the right word. He walked with his head up, not hiding his handicap, and I got the distinct impression that he wouldn't have considered it so.

We know that there are "casualties of war”. It's a fact that can't be helped. As a Navy Wife, I understand that. I know that every time my husband leaves, it could be the last time I see him. But that knowledge has always been in an abstract sort-of-way that sometimes comes close enough to just barely bruise the edges our daily life: When we lose a helicopter in a training accident... when an aircraft hits the ocean instead of landing gracefully the back of a frigate... We attend a Memorial Service, each one of us wives quietly thankful that it wasn’t us sitting in that front row today. We hear about the losses on the news every night and it is sad, but it is somewhere else. It's on the TV, which can be turned off and the knowledge tucked away into the farthest recesses of our minds, only to be recognized on the rarest and most solemn of occasions: Memorial Day, Veteran's Day, a visit to Arlington...…

But yesterday, there it was. Literally, in the flesh. I saw the price that American Military Men and Women pay for our Freedom. They do it willingly and proudly and they are the ones who carry the scars, every single day, for a lifetime.

And I walked away Humbled and Proud and Grateful and even a little Sad.

But mostly Grateful.

This Is What She Wore Today...

Dillon Grins

They've finally conceded to put Dillon on Accutane. It's been 3 doctors, 4 years, 8 medications, a face full of acne scars, and a fair amount of begging (...and a little whining thrown in for good measure).

It's a serious drug with serious (but rare) side effects, and I understand all of the implications and don't make this decision lightly. But Dillon has suffered 3 1/2 years of embarrassment and discomfort over his face and it's way past time for him to feel good about himself. He's handled this situation better than most kids, I think, and better than I believe I would have handled it at his age. But it's his turn. It's his turn to feel totally confident (though I'm afraid of THAT monster) as a 16-year-old kid in the scary world of 16-year-old girls, dating and dances.

So. Today we finally saw a Real Dermatologist and not another Navy Family Practician who would tell us to just try this "one more thing" before he refers us to a Dermatologist. He sat us down and explained all of the dangers and side effects, serious and minor. There is a workbook for Dillon to read and complete, he went to the lab for bloodtests, and we made an appointment for November 8th. If the bloodwork comes back ok, then we will get a prescription for 30 days worth of meds and then will have to see this doctor at Walter Reed each month thereafter for a check-up and a new prescription.

While the commitment is a tad overwhelming, a weight has been lifted off our shoulders. We drove home with smiles on our faces, a standing monthly date, and an acne-free future on the horizon.

Descent Into Military Medicine Hell

Dillon and I are on our way to Walter Reed for a Dermatology consult.

I should see you in 12-14 hours.

The New "Thing"

So. I had a good idea.

And I turned around and gave Mackenzie a high-five.

...then with the left hand...

...then with the right hand...

...then with the left hand...

...then with the right hand...

...then with both hands.

Then she looked at me with wide eyes and giant smile and said, "Hey! We have a new Thing!"

And we had to practice it two more times.

Now we are prepared to celebrate in the event of happy news and impressive accomplishments.

The Worst Friday Night Ever

Last night was pathetic.

Friday night is my favorite time of the week. Two whole days and one night stretched out before me with endless possibilities for fun and/or laziness before I have to slog myself back to my post by the Phone of Doom and play nice.

But last night sucked.

Tater went to work, Dillon had a date with Elaine (is that what I'm calling her? I forget...) for dinner at her grandma's house, and Mac spent the night at her friend Brittany's house. And I was alone. All evening. I could have watched Chick-Flicks until the house filled up with estrogen and it bubbled over in flowery madness out the windows... I could have started the new book I've been trying to get to for the past 3 weeks... I could have made jewelry for the show at Ichiban where they will sell my stuff and then send me lots of money... I could have returned the 40 or so emails that I owe... I could have called girlfriends (and shocked the hell out of them when they realized that I actually picked up the phone and dialed it and connected with another, living person on the other end (!!!))...

But I didn't do any of that because I had a migraine. I laid on the sofa with the lights turned low and the TV on CSI reruns and drifted in and out of sleep for the better part of 5 hours.

And then I got fed up. And I dragged myself off the sofa and up the stairs and took another Zomig, and put on my Loungewear as it was apparent that I wasn't going anywhere.

And I made popcorn. (Real popcorn. On the stove. Not that crap they try to pass off as popcorn in the microwaveable bags. It's not that hard, people, to make popcorn in a pot. Just Say No to cardboard popcorn!) Anyway... Because that's what you do on Friday night by yourself: You make popcorn with lots of butter and salt. And then I went to get a Diet Coke. They were Gone.

DAMN! This is the worst Friday night EVER!

But I found a root beer in the pantry and drank that and ate a whole bowl of popcorn by myself.

And then I had a tummy ache.

So I sat on the sofa more and watched more TV.

And then I went to bed with Snack Size Hershey's Chocolate Bars and watched TV and ate more.

And then Dillon came home and I could fall asleep.

So I did, thankful that it was Over.

In Which Paige Makes Very Little Sense

I'm having a hard time adjusting to my new role as Working Girl*.

My house is a disaster, my laundry keeps piling up, dinner is often an afterthought, and I forgot to go to Mackenzie's school Open House. Just forgot. (In my defense, it happened just before she and I flew to Indiana for my reunion - the night we were packing. And you know the mental stress that accompanies dinner with people you haven't seen since 20 years and 30 pounds ago.) Also, I have 5 or 6 plants I bought 3 weeks ago and still aren't in the ground, my friend had a baby a couple of weeks ago and I have yet to get something in the mail, I have a jewelry show awaiting my wares, if I could only get them all made and shipped off, and I've been trying to develop a website for my sparkles for the past couple of months. Grrr....

I remember with longing, ten years ago when my house was always clean, I volunteered in Dillon's classroom, I had time to make homemade cookies, and the kids and I went exploring or made crafts at the kitchen table. We took walks when there was nothing else to do, and went to Sea World or the Zoo to kill a couple hours of an afternoon. And then that all changed...

For, say, the past five years I've been running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Just barely able to keep things on an even keel. I think it all started when Mac went to kindergarten, but I can't exactly say. I was blaming a lot of the insanity on the thing that is "Life in Japan", but I'm beginning to realize that I think it's really just me. There is simply not enough time in the day to accomplish everything that needs to be done. Hell, I'm not even just talking about the super-fun extra stuff... I'm having a hard time fitting a shower in every day!

And then I went to work on top of that. Yeah, yeah, it's only 4-5 hours a day, but that's 4-5 hours of other stuff I could be doing. It's hard to hold a home together if you're not even starting to deal with it until afternoon each day.

I could make a Plan. Like a Chart... or a Log... a Checklist with little shiny stars to stick on when I actually finish something. But where in the Hell would I find time to buy the supplies and make it? And then there's the time it would take to maintain the Super-Handy Tracking Chart...

Just occurred to me: Think of the laundry I could have folded or the paperwork I could have filed during the time it took me to ramble on and on like I have.

But where would the Fun be in that? Just be careful when you leave that you step OVER the vacuum that I abandoned in the hall this afternoon when I went to make dinner...

*"Working Girl" as in Part-time secretary, not as in prostitute.

Poop At the Table

Here's what I don't get:

Inevitably, when we're eating dinner, the conversation turns toward poop.

Yes, I said "poop".

At first, I believe it was accidental, but after I made such a big thing about it I think they've caught on and are now finding new and inventive ways to work it into the discussion...

Dillon: "Something smelled disgusting in Spanish class this morning. Finally we realized Alex had poop on his shoe."

Mac: "Gosh, PE today was so nasty. There was goose poop all over the field."

Dillon: " I can't help with dishes. I have to go poop."

Mac: "My tummy hurt so bad this morning, but then I went poop and I felt a lot better."

Don't think it's just the kids, either. The dad is just as bad. He has no shame and derives much enjoyment in seeing my eyes bug out and my mouth pop open in the classic, "Are you KIDDING me?" posture.

And then they all laugh.

Is it too much for me to ask for just 1 (ONE!) hour that is sacred and disgust-free?

Marching On...

Autumn has hit the Mid-Atlantic with a vengeance.

I am Never ready for it, yet every year it arrives right on schedule. With the school books, and the changing leaves, the pumpkins and the smell of fireplaces burning in the air. First it's blue jeans and then fluffy fleece, then the frost appears in the mornings and scarecrows materialize on porches.

No matter how desperately I try to push back the season, it marches right on ahead. I try to tan in September, plant flowers that bloom in the fall; I wear shorts long after it's advisable, and grill while my fingers turn numb.

I haven't stopped Father Time yet, but that won't keep me from trying.

Please Don't Dare Me

Please don't dare me:

Last night I had to prove I was small enough to crawl under the dining room table without moving the chairs, while Tater and Dillon stood in the kitchen laughing their asses off.

It completely freaked out the dog and he ran around and around in circles, barking and growling. "What's Mommy doing under the table? Get out, Mommy, Get out and take an anti-psychotic!"

So I did. (Get out. Not take an anti-psychotic, though I am not denying it might do some good...)

And I won!

...The right to be smug...

...And the knowledge that I need to vacuum under the table

Making Out, OK/Sex, Not OK

Busted Dillon and his girlfriend making out last weekend.

I was taking her phone to her and as I rounded the corner they were both sitting up very, very, straight with their eyes bugging out of their faces.

But what really gave it away was her hair looked like she'd just been in a tornado.

After Dillon took her home, he sat down on the couch next to me and I got a big grin on my face...

"So...got busted making out with Elaine*."

He just started laughing, "I KNEW you couldn't let that pass!"

Laughing, "Nope, it's too good... You can make out as much as you want. No sex."

"Yeah, I know."

End of Mother-Son Sex-Talk

*Name changed to protect the not-so-innocent.

Reunion

Again, it's been a while and the starting from scratch is overwhelming me...

My 20th High School Reunion was awesome. I spent the better part of 3 days with people I hadn't seen for most of the past 20 years and was left wondering how we all grew up and apart. Many of them I had known since early elementary school, some from junior high. Our school district had 4 elementaries, 1 jr. high school, and 1 high school. There were 144 in my graduating class. We were tight, to say the least.

The festivities started on Friday evening at the homecoming football game, which was kind of a wash due to the rain and the cold, but the first place I saw old friends - John, Tom, Susie and Brian, friends from elementary school. We stayed until half-time only because Joyce wanted to see the homecoming queen crowned and since she did the bulk of the work on the reunion, we let her decide. But as soon as we could tear her away we went to Hunter's Pub and met up with another 20 or so classmates who were already in town. We chatted and drank and met spouses and closed the bar down. True to form, I was not done yet and headed to Triple XXX with about 9 others for Biscuits and Gravy and a few more laughs. While there, we made a score by sighting the "sideways lady". One of my hometown's few homeless, but most certainly the most famous. At 1:30, I called my mom, who is a trooper (!) to come get me and take me home with her.

Saturday, I went to the family picnic at Happy Hollow Park and dragged Noodle and my niece, Sydney along. It was fun to see everyone with their children, though most were younger than Mac. Visited a bit more, with Kathy and her husband, Shari, Kelly, Christine, Marc and his wife, but still not enough time.

From the picnic we went straight to the high school for a tour of the (completely) renovated building. Except for the pool, cafeteria, and one stairwell, it was totally unrecognizable. I had heard this from other former students who had already seen it, but it made me a bit sad to realize that it was no longer the school I went to.

After a few hours to rest, I showered and headed to the banquet room to help set up. I couldn't believe it was almost time! After all of the phone calls and internet stalking, the yearbook-browsing and nametag-making, the time was now. When the room was perfect, Joyce and I headed back to our rooms at the Union to change and meet in Matt's suite for a pre-lube. Several classmates and their spouses were already there, and I met and chatted and drank a Manhattan, and then it was Really, Really Time! We headed up to the dinner and it was over in a blink of an eye.

I saw my old friend, Lisa, who I drifted apart from in high school and had only seen once since graduation... There was Tadas, my first kiss, who remains close to my heart to this day... There was Scott and Kevin, long lost friends... Allen and Katie... And Gretchen. Lost but not forgotten. In the confusion of the evening, I never did get to talk to her. We have so much to share and catch up on and I hate that the night slipped by without my spending more time with her.

In an effort to keep the night from ending, several of us went back to Matt's suite and had a few more drinks, but mostly talked and laughed. Before I knew it, the sun was coming up and we were hungry for breakfast. Back to Triple XXX we went. But at 6:30am, the only ones there were old folks and tired waitresses.

Five years is too long to wait for another chance to meet again. I will propose a date the night before Thanksgiving and see what happens. Hopefully Good Things.