The Crab Chronicles

Quick Update

I work for Home Depot corporate. Our business depends a lot on the housing market, so the real estate problems are hitting us hard. As some of you might have heard in the news, Home Depot corporate had to lay off 500 employees today. It was a very sad day. I still have my job, but I know people who are now out of a job.Please pray that those laid off today will find new jobs quickly.

Bruce called and said he will be in sometime this weekend and will likely get his truck back, but he still doesn't know where he's going. He will likely be at Ft. Benning another week. It's so frustrating, waiting to hear where he will go.

Alesia got her report card, something she failed to tell me until I happened to spot the report card on her desk in her room, quite by accident. She made 5 A's and 2 F's. I told her last week to turn in her missing assignments in Biology and Computer classes, and she didn't do it. We had a lively discussion about it tonight. I finally said "Alesia, if you fail, you might have to repeat those classes, do everything all over again. Do you want that?" She said "No" and I said "Fine. You better get it in gear, then."

She also had comments from the two teachers of those classes, saying she wasn't paying attention, wasn't turning in work, didn't turn in assignments, didn't make up her work. All those negative comments overshadowed the 5 A's. I told her I'd better never see things like that again.

One of the parents in my Yahoo Adoptive Parents of Children with Limb Differences posted this wonderful link to a story about a one-handed college athlete:

http://tinyurl.com/2gj99k

I read it to Michael this morning and he was enthralled.

I am so ready for this weekend..

In Need of Chocolate

Last night after karate I told Michael to put up the aerobed so I could straighten my room. "It's too hard!" he complained. I helped him get the sheets off and folded, and I let the air out. All he had to do was fold it and stick it in the box. He kept whining about it. Finally, I just walked out of the room before I lost my temper.

After dinner, Mother told Michael to put his books in his backpack and get everything ready for school, so we could just grab it and go this morning. She had to tell him THREE times to do that. More whining.

When we went in to tell Mother good night, Michael was fussy again and I just had had ENOUGH. I put him in a time out, kneeling on Granny's rug, for 5 minutes. When he was able to get up, he sullenly kissed Mother, glared at me, and pronounced dramatically "I WON'T be able WALK at school tomorrow!" He's such a Drama King! [Note: I never raised my voice in administering this punishment.]

I wanted to say Buddy, I grew up in the Episcopal church, where you got on and off your knees ten times throughout the service. I used to always particularly dread the prayers just before communion, because they lasted 5-10 minutes. My knees would be sore by the end. When I sang in the choir at St. John's in Knoxville I memorized that whole series of prayers just to occupy my mind and not think about my sore knees. So, I don't see anything wrong with a kneeling time out, for 5 minutes. Mike had been warned.

When I got upstairs I had to tell him several times to come brush his teeth in my bathroom and leave Alesia alone. He was still mad at me. When I went to kiss him goodnight, he had flung himself crossways on the mattress, wrapped in the sheet like a mummy, his arm over his face. "Michael, you need to get used to the fact that I am your mother, and I have a right to tell you what to do," I began. He didn't respond, but I knew he heard me. I called Alesia in to listen, too.

It's always very hard for older adopted kids to submit to the authority of their new parents. Usually, they came from birth homes where the parents were either absent or drunk, and they could pretty much do as they liked. Nobody checked homework, made them brush their teeth, or demanded good manners. In the orphanage, they had a few rules, but no real personal attention. Too few caregivers. So the demands and expectations of parents are shocking to these kids, even relatively good kids like Michael.

His birthmom left him alone for hours at a time when he was small. Even now, he hates being in his room alone, even surrounded by toys and games. He won't take a shower in my bathroom unless I am sitting outside. He always gets out of the tub, wraps a big towel around himself, and runs out to make sure I am still there. I always give him a reassuring hug, despite getting "watered."

Last night, I figured I better spell it out, again, so there would be no misunderstanding. "Michael, in my house, I am the authority. What I say, you have to do. If you don't, you will be punished. It's that simple." [Somewhere in there I also said you have to obey Granny, too.]

No movement from the mummy. He wasn't asleep, though.

I looked pointedly at Alesia. "For the rest of your life you are going to have to submit to authority. In the outside world, the police have authority. If they tell you to STOP! you better do it the FIRST time. If you don't, you might get shot and killed. [I looked at Mike] That's why you need to get used to doing what you're told, the first time. If you are in a job and you don't do what you're told, you will get fired. Authority is everywhere. Only in your own home, alone, are you the authority."

I kissed Alesia good night and sent her off to wash her face. Michael's angry body was still across the bed. I got on the bed and held him, despite his anger. I rubbed his head. I said "No matter how angry you are at me, I am your mama, and I will ALWAYS be your mama. No matter what you do, I am your mama. If you're a bad boy, I'm still your mama. If you're a good boy, I'm still your mama. Every day of your life, I am your mother. Nothing you do will ever change that." No answer. I kept holding him.

"What about when you're at work?" he challenged me.

"I am still your mama when I'm at work. I call you every day when you get home from school, don't I? I only work because I have to Mike, not because I want to. I'd much prefer to stay home with you." 

He kept being angry, even as I said prayers and kissed him again. He was OK this morning, though.

When I got up, I found Alesia had left the straightening iron on in the bathroom. I had told her a couple of times before to turn it off, because it's a fire hazard. I told her this morning before she got out of bed "That iron is going into quarantine for ONE WEEK. You've been warned about turning it off. If you cannot listen, you cannot use it." I put it in my bathroom.

I took Alesia to the doctor yesterday, because of her gastric upsets. They tested her for Heliobacter Pylori, a common bacteria found in Russian orphans. It causes ulcer symptoms. She also got some medication. Hopefully she doesn't have an ulcer. We shall see. It may be that she just has an ulcer not caused by the bacteria. She had lots of gastric issues in Russia, too, so this is nothing new. Ulcers nowadays are simply treated with medication.

My father had ulcers off and on throughout his adult life. Alesia takes after him even though there's no biological relation, which is fascinating and kind of scary, in some ways.

Still no word from my brother on where he is going to be shipped out to on Sunday. I hate the waiting.

The Personal, Right Here

Sometimes I worry that my posts are too personal, that perhaps reading Crab Chronicles is not exactly FUN. [My freshman English teacher in high school said she'd give an F to anyone who used the word FUN in an essay so I've tried to avoid it since. It's sort of a generic plastic word...]

However, I write for a lot of reasons, one of them being that it's therapeutic for me. When I was in Kazakhstan last year, I took a laptop loaned to me by a dear friend, and I thanked God for it every day, because without the ability to peck away at the keyboard a little every day I would go totally insane. Writing helps me make sense of the world.

Mother and I are having a fun time watching all the political stuff on TV and discussing various candidates. [I actually shouted "Shut UP you Nitwit!" and grabbed the remote when I saw a certain candidate on the TV screen at 7:15 this morning, much to Mike's amusement.] Mother and I don't totally agree on everything, but she is one of the few people I will even discuss politics with, because with everyone except her, most such discussions lead to big arguments. I drifted out of a friendship a couple of years ago because I sent out a funny e-mail about a political figure, and it sparked off a heated e-mail debate between friends who are conservative and friends who are liberal. I have both types of friends.

Trying to explain to Michael what the president does was pretty amusing yesterday. I failed utterly, because it ended up with him thinking the president is some sort of Dirty Harry type of enforcer. I watched with sadness as his eyes glazed over when I tried to explain about the three branches of government - executive, legislative, and judicial, fyi. Maybe I can try again in a year, when he knows more English.

MY OPINIONS

I started reading a blog a few weeks ago, because it had some really interesting links to articles and video clips, and comments. I quit reading it pretty quickly, though, because there is nothing personal on there, besides the author's opinions on certain sensational news stories. There's nothing about his life. However, there's a lot of traffic on that blog. My stats lately are dismal. So, for your entertainment, here are some of my opinions on various things:

BRITNEY SPEARS -  Why on earth doesn't somebody help the girl get a grip, already? It doesn't take a genius to see Britney is mentally ill.  Instead of writing sensationalistic books, her mama needs to get right with Jesus and help BOTH her daughters. Shame on her.

RAP MUSIC, TATOOS, BODY PIERCINGS - Three things you will NEVER find in my house.

BOYS WITH THEIR PANTS FALLING OFF THEIR BUTTS - Another thing you will never find in my house, or on my son. I let him wear too-big shirts, but those pants fit.

REALITY TV - It's not real, folks. The old show Candid Camera was REAL reality TV, because people didn't know they were being filmed. So-called "reality" TV nowadays should be called Shows With Really Bad Acting and Terrible Dialogue. It's the old "throw the Christians to the lions" mentality and I find it appalling. I don't even like Dancing With the Stars - the clothes are too trashy.

THE ECONOMY - I have no opinion on it, other than to say we ALL need to pray this turns around, soon!

ADOPTEE RIGHTS - Every person has the right to know who their biological parents are, I feel. Seal the records until they are 18, but then full disclosure should be the law everywhere, IMHO. I always tell my kids I am supportive of them searching for their birth parents, and I am being truthful. I know if I were in their shoes I would have to know.

SHOULDER PADS - I loved the 1980's. I looked like I had shoulders! Bring back the pads!

ATLANTA - This is not a subject of controversy, I just wanted to say I love living in Atlanta and I would never live anywhere else. I feel like I live in a small town, Tucker, just outside a big city, so I have the best of both worlds. Plus, I NEVER have to shovel snow! Whoopee!!

I can't think of anything else I have a really strong opinion about, but I will add things if I come up with more.

A Final Thought for Tuesday

I feel a bit bad for posts today and yesterday. I am not usually so down.

I had confrontations with both kids on the way to school.

Mother told me this morning she was nauseated all morning. Michael got a note on his agenda that he had been misbehaving in the hallway - that's the first negative note since he started school last August. He also forgot to write down all of his English assignment. Alesia's stomach hurt today.

So I stressed everyone out and I feel like a terrible Mom, and a terrible daughter. I always stress and over-react to things.

Mother said she talked to Michael today about responding when he is called. He admitted he needs to do better.

Both kids were good after school. Mike came in with a lot of science homework, and Alesia spent more than an hour patiently helping him, without being asked.

When I got home everything was peaceful. The kids were in good spirits. Alesia cleaned up after dinner without complaining.

Michael is so scared of thunderstorms. We got one quick flash of lightning and he insisted on sleeping in my room tonight, on the aerobed. I made him go downstairs alone, in the dark, with his flashlight, to get his prosthetic hand, so it could be hooked up to the recharger in his room. He is scared to go downstairs alone at night. I told him he has to conquer his fears. After some encouragement, he was brave, and did it.  I told him I was proud of him. Before he could sleep he needed me to hold him for a couple of minutes. I wanted to cry but I didn't.

He is snoring away on his little bed, beside my big bed. He doesn't know I am praying so hard for Uncle Bruce to not be sent too far away from us...

Getting a Grip

Dark days lately. Lots of tension. I have to get a grip. I did something this morning that I regret very much. I yelled at Michael. I don't think I've ever yelled at him before. I will take to my grave the hurt, bewildered look on his face.

My brother's truck is sitting in our driveway and I cannot figure out how to park it so it's not in our way. Yesterday we had issues with getting the car out and Michael was a couple of minutes late to school. I keep a small notebook in my purse for such things, and I wrote him a quick excuse for being late. I said just before letting him out of the car "Go in the office and give this to them so you can go to class. This is your excuse." This morning, after more car issues, I absentmindedly said "Yikes, we need to hurry, I don't want to be late again and have to write you another excuse. You gave that to them, right?" and he said "No. I just went in the office and they handed me a piece of paper and said go to class." That's when I yelled. I imagine he was just intimidated by being in the office, and didn't think about the note in his pocket. He's still not fluent in English, either.

Michael has gotten to where he doesn't do what he's told, except when he feels like it. Sunday afternoon, he was outside playing and my brother needed to talk to him for a minute before heading out. I called Michael to come in, twice, and he completely ignored me. My brother went to the door, bellowed "Michael! Get your a** in here!" and Michael immediately obeyed. Sometimes I wish I had that male authority voice. It took Bruce yelling to get him to pay attention, though.

I have to figure out a consequence for Mike of not doing what he's told. I'm tired of telling him and Alesia things 4 times.

I'm also tired of Alesia's attitude. I gave her a lecture in the car today about tone of voice. So often, things she says are not really mean or confrontational, but she uses a yucky tone of voice, and it really ticks off me and Mother. She also has been picking fights a lot lately, which is why I said yesterday I think there's some anger that she's not dealing with.

I've read a lot of parenting books, and one would think I could figure anything out after 3 years as an adoptive parent, but right now I'm too aggravated to think clearly. There is a theory that kids are acting out of fear when they misbehavie, and punishing them does no good. If a child is raging or tantruming, I can see how that's probably true. So much of what my kids do, though, is just not up to that level. They're not paying attention, not caring how they sound - it's small stuff. It's also habit. If they develop habits of disobedience or defiance and I don't correct that, I am not doing them any favors.

Right now, I am thinking they will get a 5 minute time out every time they disobey or do or say something unacceptable. I will see if that causes better behavior.

Some of the tension in our house, I think, is because we are all waiting to see where the Army will send my brother. Mother and I are praying it's a base in the US, preferably one in the Southeast. He wants to actually go overseas, as he will get paid more. I'm afraid if he goes to Iraq or Afghanistan, the worry [for Mother and me] will be overwhelming. He's a tough man, a real soldier, but he can't do much about suicide bombers.

Alesia is also having some pains in her abdomen, and I am concerned. I am taking her to the doctor tomorrow, to see if we need to get some tests run. The orphanage said she had gallbladder issues and I am wondering if that's it. She gets sick now practically every time she gets in the car and rides for 5 minutes. We always have to stop at least once every vacation so she can vomit. OTC medication doesn't help much; sometimes not at all.

Wiped Out Monday

I am wiped out tired, today. I think it's just because I had a really hard time getting Michael and Alesia settled down to sleep last night. Lesleigh brought my brother's truck back at almost 10:30 last night, and usually everyone is aleep by then, but me.

I peruse a forum for adoptive parents who have adopted from Russia, just about every day. There was an interesting thread on there about a woman thinking about adopting a child between 9 and 12 years old. It's a scary proposition.

When I think back on the issues I have had with my daughter these past 3 years, I am both amazed that we made it through, and grateful to God for stepping in when I was incredibly discouraged. Two summers ago, Alesia spent some time with a friend who was a very bad influence, and afterwards her behavior changed dramatically. She snuck around the house at night to get on the computer and peruse the internet. She bought things online and charged them to my credit card. She figured she wouldn't get caught. I started seeing packages arrive at the house, things I hadn't ordered. Then the credit card company called me about unusual activity. I would like to say I handled it well, but I didn't. I FREAKED OUT.

I screamed and yelled and cried and just about had a fit. Mother was scared I was going to have a heart attack. Some of it was my own pride, taking a beating. I had always said with pride that MY daughter was a good kid, a shining example of why one should adopt older kids. Then she pulled that stunt. She also downloaded viruses and eventually that computer crashed and had to be replaced.

To me, seeing the sneaking and lying, felt like I had failed utterly. It took months, and a lot of conversations with friends, before I accepted the truth. LOTS of kids do the same thing my daughter did, biological kids as well as adopted. It's not unusual. [To this day, I never allow Alesia on the internet without supervision, though.] That doesn't excuse her behavior, but it made it a little easier for me to accept.

When I was in Kazakhstan last year, Alesia ran up my cell phone bill to astronomical heights, engaging in behaviors she knew were going to get her into major trouble [I won't detail them all here]. I hit the roof when I got back from Kaz. I couldn't believe, after all the talks we had been through the prior summer, that she would engage in such behaviors.

One reason I read other blogs and forums for adoptive parents is that sometimes it's incredibly hard to figure out, with my kids, what is an orphanage behavior and what is common to all kids. Sometimes I get very discouraged about it. Prayer is all that helps.

I have seen a major change in Alesia's maturity level since I brought Michael home. Although she still gets on my nerves bad, sometimes, she is much more mature now. I can tell, also, that she has developed a much better sense of morality, and its importance. She fusses at Michael like a mother hen, and talks back to characters in movies, sometimes to an annoying extent -  i.e. "What are you DOING?! you idiot! You're going to get in Big Trouble!"

What I think caused a big change in Alesia was that during one of our talks after my return from Kaz, I asked her if she had been angry with me for leaving her. She admitted yes, she had. Despite my daily calls and e-mails, and leaving little notes for her, and everything I had tried to do, when I was in Kaz for 3 weeks adopting Michael, it brought up old feelings of abandonment and rejection, and her behavior was a reaction to that. No amount of love or attention from Granny could substitute for missing her mother.

I think, also, she has a lot of anger that has nowhere to go. She has to be angry, deep down, for the birthmother who let the orphanage take her and never called, wrote, or visited.

She gets angry with herself because of her terrible, cheesecloth memory. She gets angry at me because I have a hard time communicating with her a lot of times. I am out $30 because I sent the form and a check with her so she could get a photo package of school pictures last fall, and never heard another word. After calls and e-mails to several different folks, I finally tracked down the portrait folks and ordered another package, just last week. Alesia had no idea what had happened.

Every time I find out stuff like this [and it happens frequently] I get really angry with her. I try to control my temper when I question her, and she reads me like a book and just shuts down, and I get only monosyllabic answers. She accuses me of being angry, and I get more angry because she has figured out what I'm trying to hide, my real annoyance and anger. Sometimes there is yelling. I ain't perfect. [However, I yell a lot less than I used to, and I am trying to stop doing it altogether. I pray about it.]

Despite the great difficulty I have with Alesia, I try to only tell her the truth. I told her in the car the other day that SHE has control of how happy she is. I have said this before, but I think I will have to reiterate it many times, before she's convinced. Michael was in the car too, and that was good. I said, basically, that if there is negative talk in our head - like "I'm so stupid, I can't do anything right, I can't do this or that" etc. that those things will become true. If we tell ourselves we are smart and capable, and repeat GOOD stuff over and over, that becomes the truth. The difference between happy and unhappy people is ATTITUDE. We all have bad things happen to us. We all get discouraged. It's how we handle it that separates the happy, or least contented, folks from those who are angry and/or self-destructive.

With Michael, it's so much easier [right now; that might change]. He is so smart, and funny, and such a character. It's so difficult not to be biased because he's so much easier to love. I do at least have the wisdom to know that in 5 years it could all be different. He could be the one acting out and getting on my nerves and Alesia could be the one who's easy to manage. Of course, she will be 21 years old then, and he will be 16.

The race is on, to make sure he understands my values and not just WHAT I expect from him, but WHY. Alesia is gradually getting to understand the WHY, despite her unfortunate limitations due to a birthmother who was an alcoholic.

We didn't watch a movie last night. I was too wiped out. We found a movie on TV, an old concert movie of Bill Cosby, and Michael and I sat and watched it, while Alesia plotted her wardrobe choices for the upcoming week. To my shock, Michael LOVED Cosby, and understood most of the humor. He laughed uproariously during the routine about going to the dentist. I have seen that bit many times, and I still laugh so hard I cry. He even laughed when Cosby talked about being a parent, and trying to get his kids to listen. [Sample: "I have to say COME HERE many times - "Come here, here, here, yes, here HERE!!"] and Mike looked at me, eyes twinkling, and said "That sounds like you, Mom!"

The most touching thing, though, was what Michael said after he had only been watching Cosby a little while. He turned to me, completely sincere, and said "I want to be like him, Mom." I get big tears in my eyes when ermembering that, because I admire Bill Cosby greatly. I thought "From your mouth to God's ear, my son."

I guess I need to amend my "Attitude Is Everything" speech, and remind my kids that laughter is God's greatest gift to us, and we must always try to find the humor, even in the darkest times. The sound of laughter is healing.

Sunday, Part 2, That's a Wrap!

What an amazing day we have had! We got up and ate a late breakfast, then went to Home Depot. Alesia had to get paint chips for an art project.

We came home and had lunch and cleaned up around the house. The kids helped me a lot.

We spent the afternoon making a video. The purpose of this video, which is being put together by Adoption Ark, my agency, is to give it to adoption officials in Kazakhstan, to persuade them to make more disabled kids and kids with medical issues or disabilities available for adoption. Kazakhstan officials have a hard time understanding that Americans will adopt kids with issues, and the kids will have loving homes, and will thrive. So the agency asked for the cooperation of several families, mine being one of them. I was tickled to be able to participate.

Michael was really nervous last night and had a hard time getting to sleep. He was worried about speaking Russian. The agency wanted some footage of him conversing in Russian, with a Russian speaker, to show he retained his native language. My friend Kate, a wonderful Russian translator, came over. She showed the kids a cartoon in Russian, then chatted with Michael. He was shy and it was hard for him to remember his Russian. She actually had to coach him to say things in Russian like “I live swimming” or “I like school.” They will probably have to edit it heavily. However, he still understood everything Kate said to him, which is good.

Tom, the videographer, is the brother of a friend of mine and I have known him for years. He is very easygoing, and he has a son so he is used to kids. He was wonderful with Michael.

We probably will be sending too much footage, but I figured better to send too much, and they can edit it down to 5-10 minutes. We got shots of Mike playing a game with Alesia, working on homework with mother, eating cookies in the kitchen, playing soccer in the backyard with Kate’s son, etc. After some initial shyness, he seemed to finally relax and I am hoping at least some of the film will show his cute personality.

The therapist was supposed to come and discuss his prosthesis and his progress, but she couldn’t make it so we will reschedule her.

Bruce came in around 3, and hung out with us for a while. He then had to go back to Ft. Benning. He took my cousin Lesleigh, and she drove his truck back here, because he is not supposed to have a personal behicle on the base. He doesn’t know it, but I am looking forward to driving it. He has a big ol’ V-8 engine on it, and that thing can haul a**. I am channeling my inner redneck! Yikes!

After the filming, we went to the Russian store with Kate and her son. We got lots of goodies, including pirogkis, and cookies, and cherry juice. Russian cherry juice is so far superior to American it’s not funny. It’s not artificially sweetened. It’s terrific stuff. I also saw seerniki in the bakery section – it’s a big store – and got some. They are like cheesy muffins, but flat. These were good, but too sweet.

I feel like we had a very successful day, and I am so excited to see what the final film will look like. I am to get a copy. If there’s any way, I can figure out a way to post some of it here, I will…

Sunday, Part 1

Yesterday was a hectic day, but not as much as I’d feared. It was really cold, though. The high was only about 41.

Bruce left pretty early, to drive to Columbia and check on his house. We went to Kroger for the usual grocery buying extravaganza.

Michael finally got his photo made for karate. We had missed the earlier scheduled photo sessions for one reason or another. They take formal photos of the kids in their karate uniforms. He enjoyed the session, I know. Mr. H and Mr. Quinn were teasing with him, while they put him in various poses. It was much more relaxed than a class.

While Mother napped, we saw the movie “Mad Money.” It was not as good as I’d hoped, but it was entertaining. It’s about women who work as janitors at the Federal Reserve, where they destroy old worn out money, and the women steal the money.

Diane Keaton -one of the stars of the movie, although we like Queen Latifah better - is looking quite old these days. I saw her interviewed on Good Morning America a couple of weeks ago and she acted like such an airhead, it was bizarre. Then she said the F word on TV! I couldn’t believe she got away with it. There obviously is no delay button. She has two adopted children, and I sure hope they have a good nanny, because heaven knows they will be screwed up if they take their cues from her…

When we were coming home in the car from the movie, I had to give Alesia yet another talk about her bad attitude. She says things to Michael sometimes that really hurt his feelings, which is the point at which I cannot ignore her teenagerness any more. Today he was running to the car and she said “I hope you fall!” then refused to apologize.

I finally talked to her later, in Mother’s room, and told her, “I know something is bothering you. If you don’t want to tell me, then tell Granny.” She looked interested in the idea. She and Mother are close. Mother has a higher tolerance for teenage behavior than I do.

I was telling Mother just before dinner that in the Mad Money movie that Ted Danson is looking very old – he has let his hair go completely grey. Alesia was listening to this and she frowned and said “Tap dancing? There was no tap dancing in the movie!” I looked at her in puzzlement. “No kiddo, TED DANSON, not tap dancing.”

My project for today is a video about Michael. I am so excited. I will post more about it later.

Mike's Little Fingers

It has been a peaceful day, except for my lunchtime trip to Old Navy, to buy Michael pants. He is needing a bigger size, a boy’s 12, but his little legs are so short, I have to roll the cuffs of all his pants.

I had the bright idea to get knit athletic pants, but they are going to be hard to hem, as they have side zippers.

Bruce came in about 7. He had to drive over from Columbus, which is about 2 hours. He is going to have to rent a car and drive back, as he’s not supposed to keep a personal vehicle on post. It may be possible we could find a person to drive him, and bring the truck back.

As I was tucking Michael in bed last night, he complained about his “little fingers” hurting. I couldn’t figure out what he was talking about. Finally he pointed to his toes. He couldn’t remember the word. I’ve quizzed him a couple of times since, on the word “toes.” It’s a funny sounding word, isn’t it? They do sort of look like little fingers. I think they were just hurting because he was wearing too-small shoes. He has to start wearing his new shoes, and breaking them in..

Tomorrow we have a lot to do, and it will be hectic. I hope the weather cooperates.

Sears and the Odwalla Fallacy

I am not a retail snob. I am happy to shop at Goodwill, or the Dollar Store, or any garage sale with a bargain to be found. I passionately dislike malls and I try to avoid them as much as possible.

I passionately HATE shopping. I know, I am a woman, it's supposedly genetic, but lemme tell ya, I'd rather set my hair on fire or get a root canal than be forced to walk around the mall, even the small and relatively friendly mall close to our house.

We desperately need a new can opener. The one we have takes a lot of brute force to be persuaded to open anything, then it won't shut off. I ordered another one a few weeks ago from a website called www.alwaysbrilliant.com and the brilliant folks there took a couple of days to tell me it was on backorder. Then I got several e-mails saying it was delayed. Then delayed some more. Then, finally, an honest e-mail which said they had no idea when I could get the dadgum can opener. C'mon! That's insane! So I canceled my order.

Yesterday at lunch I ventured out to the mall near my office. I had to go to the post office and mail off a copy of my book [Jack's New Family - see link at left to purchase your copy, Today!] to a reviewer. I decided to make a slight detour and go through Sears. While there I got the great idea to look for a new can opener. After all, it's Sears, the place where you go to buy large appliances. I found the can opener display. There were about 4 models displayed. The boxes containing the actual appliances were below the displayed models. I looked and looked and thought, I must be losing my mind, there is only ONE actual can opener here, in my price range. There was some ritzy high-tech thing that cost $45 but I thought no way am I going there.

I looked around for more openers, thinking surely there must be more than this. Surely there must be a display of them? I looked all over the appliance department. No display. Also, no salesclerks, anywhere. Finally, I spotted a clerk, a very old lady with a 1972 upswept hairdo, shuffling quickly over to my direction, her head down, unsmiling. She looked, honestly, like a robot. I said "Excuse me?" and there was no response. I pondered what to do. I decided to heck with it, on to the post office. They lost a sale due to The Stepford Granny Saleswoman there. So be it.

When I was growing up, the mall near our house was divided this way. JC Penney's was Mother's hangout. Sears was Dad's place. Spencer's was where my brother and I gravitated. I occasionally bought painter's pants at Sears. I only wore painter's pants for a couple of years - I mean, I wore no other pants during that time. I had an older cousin who wore them and I thought everything she did was cool. So Sears outfitted me there for a while. Dad always bought appliances and lawn mowers there.

When I was about 14, I decided I wanted a 10 speed bike. Dad said nope, I'm not buying you a bike that cost that much [about $50-75 then]. So I saved babysitting money and did extra chores, and saved allowance money, and FINALLY, I was able to buy that 10 speed, in Sears. I remember the day like it was yesterday. It was the culmination of about two years of saving money. I got the bike home, quickly realized it was too much bike for me, and rarely ever rode it again after that. [Sorry, bet you thought that story would have a happy ending, huh?!]

My whole point is, that Sears is probably still only in business because of nostalgia and the long-vanished dream of good products and customer service, which is a shame. Like so much of retail, it's not about customer service, it's about the bottom line. So it's hard to find a warm body in a store to help you, and pretty soon the warm-bodied customers will be simply memories.

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IN OTHER NEWS

Our movie last night was Mr. Holland's Opus, a wonderful film about a music teacher. It always makes me cry at the end. For a brief moment, it makes me think I want to be a teacher. Thankfully, those moments always pass. [With my temper, I wouldn't last long, I'm sure.]

My daughter has to turn in tomorrow a project, a model of a DNA strand. Hers is made out of pipe cleaners and wooden beads. I do not think making it has enhanced her learning experience. She viewed it as a craft project. If I were the teacher, I would re-think that idea. I would probably insist that it be edible, perhaps made out of cake, and then eaten afterwards, and all the kids would be in a sugar frenzy, and a danger to themselves and others... [yet another reason why I should not teach]

Alesia went to clean up the kitchen after dinner last night and the dishwasher, which I THOUGHT had been run, had not been run. My bad. Her reaction was hysterical. She looked at a dish in the top rack, straightened up, narrowed her eyes, and the following phrase popped out of her mouth like she was channeling Queen Latifah: "Oh no, you didn't!" We just died laughing. I imitated her phrasing and SHE died laughing.

Michael always gets out of the shower, wraps himself in his purple towel, and zips out to tell me he's clean. I am always at the computer. I then tell him he has to dry off, and he tries to shake the water off, like a dog, and I laugh. Then he likes to dance around like a little Chippendale's dancer, with lots of winking and wriggling. It's hysterically funny. Once or twice the towel has slipped and he's shrieked "No! You can't see Mr. Happy!"

Bruce has called a couple of times from Ft. Benning. He is in with other older guys who have been called back to active duty. I think he is enjoying himself, but he marvels at how different the Army is now. One of his old hangouts on post has now become a WiFi cafe. A lot of the acronyms have changed and he has to learn all the new ones, which is like sort of a puzzle. They do yoga stretches before PT. I asked him how he liked his rommate, and how many guys were in his class, and after each question he barked "That's classified! I can't talk about it!" I just thought well, OK, whatever. Let's see how you stand up to torture from a woman with a lot of chocolate and a small, fierce dog...

Like an idiot, I spent almost $3 on an Odwalla energy drink at lunch. I am trying to get off sodas. This Odwalla drink promises "serious energy." I'm not feeling it. So much for truth in advertising! How many odwallas had to die for that stupid drink, huh?!