The Crab Chronicles

Hail to the New President

It is freezing today in Hot-Lanta. I am actually wearing socks with my Crocs, and my feet are slipping around. I went to work and changed shirts, and put on my heavy heavy fleece shirt with Home Depot Legal Department. I hate this.

I am seriously considering learning Spanish and moving to Miami.

I feel like the last couple of days of my life have just been too hectic, too frenetic. I can’t catch my breath. My diet got so far off the rails lately I was feeling like Santa after a 3 day bender. So not a happy place. I am back on track today. I caught a glimpse of myself in the big mirror at Kroger last night and gasped. I looked like a moving land mass with a head stuck on top. Time to pull up my big girl panties and get it in gear. Time to move it and groove it. Rock and roll. [Tired of the clichés yet? I like to bark them early in the morning when my kids don’t get out of bed fast enough. If they continue to be horizontal I sing songs like “SO, rise and Shine and Give God your GLORY GLORY!”]

I love Lisa Scottoline. I could so identify with her column today entitled Cry Baby. I cry easily, too. Michael has a sixth sense about it, and when I cry he either grabs a Kleenex or says “what’s the matter?!” with a mixture of concern and horror. I cannot articulate it most of the time, and he doesn’t understand the words “because I am a hormonal menopausal woman!”

INAUGURATION

I must admit, I watched part of the inauguration on my lunch hour, and I listened to more of it while I was working. Our in-house TV streamed it to us. It’s fascinating to me. I am always proud of my country, but I am VERY proud to be an American today.

I did feel a slight nervousness when the camera panned to the crowds – what if somebody in the middle had to tinkle?! Yikes.

Michael watched it at school. Alesia watched it at her school, too. They should understand the historic nature of this day. We talked about it at dinner.

As former President Bush [the elder] was introduced, the newscasters doing voiceover were saying Bush Elder said he was going to go skydiving on his 85^th birthday in June, to show that older people don’t have to just “sit around and drool.” His son was standing there and he quipped “Well Dad, I guess you can drool in the air!” LOL

They also said one of President Obama’s daughters remarked “You’re gonna be the first African-American president?! Better be good!” Kids are so brutally honest…

I felt sorry for Aretha having to sing outside in that cold. I had to sing the national anthem once at a change of command ceremony at Ft. Gillem, and it was an honor to do that, but man it was tough. That’s an incredibly hard song, anyway, and I was in a gym with the air conditioner beating down on me. I told them I didn’t need a microphone, because I just had to let loose and sing out as hard as I could, without being shrill, to overcome the bone-chilling cold. It was nerve-wracking, but later several folks came up and told me I did a good job, and I got two coins, from a major and a Colonel. In the military, coins are given as a reward for service.

They said the inaugural speech was sent to David McCullough and Doris Kearns Goodwin, both prominent historians, to review. I like that.

President Obama’s speech was wonderful. It made me cry.

I was amazed to see Mr. and Mrs. Bush and the President and new First Lady hugged as the Bushes were leaving to catch their plane to Texas. That was way more than civil and polite. That was gracious. Again, I am verklempt thinking of how proud I am to be an American.

The Gorgeous Cake

What a day. I am wiped out. Just too much going on.

 

I got up and slipped out of the house quietly, since the kids were out of school. Mother did get up with me and had a cup of coffee. I don’t like leaving alone in the mornings. I feel too much like a daddy…

 

Frustrating day at work, for various reasons I won’t bore you with here, but trust me, it was not a happy day.

 

One bright note was that I picked up a cake I had ordered for my friend Tonia, who I hate to say is leaving Home Depot to open her own business. Melissa Cuthbertson, who is the niece of my friend Laura, made this gorgeous cake!

 

My friend Tonia was thrilled with the cake. She and two other ladies comprise our little cubicle corner in the back and we call ourselves the Diva Corner. It won't be the same without Tonia, who has been a dear friend for almost 9 years, since the job I had before Home Depot, at a company which shall remain nameless.

 

Melissa is an incredible young woman. She uses all her profits from her cakes to give to families in crisis, through her church I think. She is a working mom to a lively little 3 year old, so that makes it even more admirable. If you’d in Atlanta or the vicinity, please consider using Melissa to make a cake for your special occasions. Here’s her website.

 

 

I came home early to pick up Alesia from her soccer tryout, only to learn the tryout is tomorrow. Thank God for cell phones. The website said January 19^th last time I checked. They told the girls [on a notice on the bulletin board] to wear cleats and shin guards. Well, I am not buying her cleats and shin guards for a tryout. If she makes the team, then OK, but not just for a tryout.

 

I sent Mike to tennis practice and Alesia and I finally did the grocery shopping. It was not bad, being in Kroger on a Monday night. Not too many folks were in there.

 

Our movie tonight was Armageddon, the Bruce Willis film from a few years back. It ain’t Hamlet, but it’s very entertaining, a popcorn flick. I was ready for it.

A Moving Experience

We finally got a little warmer today, with highs in the 40’s.  I actually just wore a long-sleeved shirt and a big sweater, and was fine.

 

Mother and Mike and I went to church at St. Bede’s this morning. Alesia wasn’t feeling good and stayed home. The service celebrated the life of Martin Luther King, Jr. and in her sermon Laura told a strue story about his final day, as related by Andrew Young. At the end, we sang We Shall Overcome, a song that always makes me want to cry. The last verse was sung a capella [without accompaniment] and the whole little church was singing just beautifully. It was a moment I will never forget.

 

We had lunch at Red Lobster. No, it’s not really economical, but Mother needs to get out and do something fun each week, and so we eat lunch out at a real restaurant either Saturday or Sunday. She almost never drives during the week, due to her arthritis, so often she has stayed in the house 5-6 days before I take her out on weekends. It would drive me nuts, but she has always been a homebody, and she stays busy with a wide circle of friends, plus tutoring Michael after school.

 

The kids and I went to see a movie called Defiance today. It’s a true story of 4 Jewish brothers who fled to the woods when the Nazis were rounding up the Jews, and they lived in the woods during the war, with a huge contingent of people. I had never heard the story, but the movie was terrific. I reviewed it on my movie review blog Scribblerchick's Movie Dish.

 

We picked up Alesia's friend Elena on the way home from the movie, and she is spending the night. She is such a sweetie.

 

I hate that the kids will be home from school tomorrow but I have to work. Such is life…

A Clean Shirt

Alesia had a morning babysitting job for a neighbor, so I got up early to eat breakfast with her for a few minutes before she had to leave.

 

Michael slept until 9:30, and wouldn’t have gotten up then if I hadn’t bribed him into getting up with the promise of watching cartoons from my bed. Alesia had left him two hard boiled eggs, which he ate during the commercial for Ben Ten. Don’t ask me what “Ben Ten” is – it’s a cartoon, is all I know.

 

Michael talked to the therapist alone today, about his visit to Kate’s Club, I believe. It’s good he was able to talk without me in there – he has been very shy, up to now. She will ask something and I will see him struggling to find the right words for a reply, silently mouthing different words.

 

Michael was invited to the birthday party of a classmate today, and was excited about going. At lunch, Mother remarked he needed to put on a clean shirt, a nice sports shirt. He had dressed himself, despite my objections, in a cotton tee shirt and shorts. It was very cold today, only in the 30’s.

 

I thought Mother’s asking Michael to put on a clean shirt was perfectly reasonable, but he set his jaw and refused. I explained all the reasons why he needed to change his shirt. I didn’t lose my temper. Still, he refused. I told him if he didn’t put on a clean shirt, I would fine him $10.

 

He went to his room and sat on the floor, pouting. Alesia couldn’t talk sense into him. I couldn’t get him to change his shirt. He wedged himself between the bed and wall, where I couldn’t follow. I finally threw myself across the bed and caressed his head, and told him how much I hated the fact he wasn’t going to the party, and how disappointed his friend would be. I controlled my temper. I could see him wanting to give in, but wanting to win even more. I knew he was nervous about the party – he’s always scared of new experiences.

 

I finally said “Look, Michael, this is silly. Choose any shirt in the closet or drawer, any one, and you can wear it, and I’ll give you your money back.”

 

Still sullen, he changed into his newest shirt, and then swore he wouldn’t take off his hoodie the whole time. Fine, I replied. We got in the car. He said as soon as we got out of the driveway he had changed his mind and didn’t want to go. I ignored him. The child’s house is literally 2 minutes from our house, but in a very swanky new neighborhood, of huge homes with no yards. Michael kept saying “I don’t want to go!” and Alesia and I both agreed we wanted to see inside that house! “C’mon, Michael!” Alesia urged him.

 

Well, you can guess the rest. It was a beautiful home, and the people were very nice. When I picked Mike up later he was mad because he wanted to stay longer!

 

While he was there, I took Alesia to Sports Authority for some new tennis shoes. Thankfully, they were all on sale. I got her some cool black Nike shoes.

 

Alesia watched an hour of the educational film I ordered about the Medicis, to help her learn about the Renaissance. She yawned the whole time. After Part I, I told her we could switch to a movie.

 

We watched Prince of Tides  - a movie I remember hating when it came out. I had read the Pat Conroy book and loved it, but of course the movie wasn’t like my vision. I realized tonight it’s a much better movie than I had given it credit for, and Streisand is pretty subdued in it. It’s a showcase for Nick Nolte, who gave an amazing performance. The only thing I found really annoying was Nolte’s character's insistence that the southern way is to keep everything painful hidden, and never discuss it. I think that’s a characteristic of a lot of folks, not just southerners.

 

I showed the film to Alesia because it deals with Nolte’s character going back to his childhood to dredge up a very painful memory, and how that admittance finally helps him heal. I want Alesia to think about that, because it’s important for her. Remembering what she suffered and processing it is how she can heal, finally. I think in the pivotal scene, when she saw Nolte crying, she shed a tear or two, which is actually a good thing.

 

The weather is still bitterly cold. It’s so unlike Atlanta. However, I am hoping it will get back to normal [highs in the 50’s] soon.

Hello Dalai, Stay Warm

It was 14 degrees when I got up this morning, and of course the helpful radio announcer says “It feels like zero!” That was the only good thing about being in Russia and Kazakhstan – not knowing what the weather was every 10 minutes. Nobody there talks about “wind chill” either – at least not in English. I just knew every day it would be cold, and I was going to need a coat all the time..

Folks around here are bellyaching like we’re all in the new Ice Age, and I don’t mean the movie.

This is the quote of the day, and I like it a lot. Even if you don’t agree, you have to admit it’s food for thought:

We can live without religion and meditation, but we cannot survive without human affection.
- The Dalai Lama

I’ve always wondered if I met the Dalai Lama, if I would have the nerve to say “Hello, Dalai!” He probably wouldn’t think it was funny, unless maybe I performed the entire song.

When I was a senior in high school I was in a local dinner theatre production of Hello Dolly, in the chorus, and did the show 8 times a week for 5 weeks. I know every word, to every song. I still love that show. I never got sick of it. My brain is packed full of such fun but useless information.

However, I cannot remember anything I ever learned in any math class, and without a calculator I would be TMI – Totally Math Impaired. I struggle to hide this from my son. He laughed at me the other night because I couldn’t think how to answer, “What is 8 times 9?” “uh, 54? Lord have mercy…

I told the kids last night that I am trying to set it up so we can go ice skating with my friend Kate and her son. I know Michael can skate, because I saw him skate on a man-made pond behind the orphanage. I assumed Alesia could skate, too, but she said no, she never ice-skated in Russia. Michael was listening to that and said, enthusiastically, “I’ll teach you to skate, Alesia! I’m a good skater!” I thought that was so sweet of him. She is always great about helping him with homework, putting things together for him, and generally be a wonderful “little mama” I know he was pleased to find something he could do for her.

Swaptree is an interesting site. Folks swap books, movies, and games, and everything is free – you just pay postage. My friend Laura says she has gotten movies there, and all she had to do was a couple of buck to mail. It’s a great idea. When I get a moment I plan to check it out.

I picked up the prescription for my foot cream. It’s Salicylic Acid cream – on other words, aspirin. Hmmm… I spent 10 minutes soaking my hard, calloused feet in hot water, then applied the cream and put on clean socks. We shall see how that works out. The itching has been driving me nuts, as I think I’ve mentioned before…

The kids and I picked up sandwiches at Firehouse Subs for dinner. They have a wonderful meatball sub. I am not a big sandwich person but that’s a good sandwich. The kids ate turkey/cheese sandwiches. Mother had roast beef with no bread and lots of veggies. We have stopped eating out at night, opting for sandwiches from either Jersey Mike’s or Firehouse Subs.

I know it’s cold tonight because I actually got a throw out of the closet and bundled up while we were watching our movie, Hidalgo. Excellent film, BTW, for all ages. It’s based on the true story of Frank Hopkins, celebrated horse racer.

Wherever you are, I hope you’re warm!

Don't Forget Mink

I had an appointment with a new dermatologist this morning, about the itching on my feet. He looked at my feet, prescribed a cream, and bada bing bada boom, I was done. The funny part was this guy’s name is O’Brien, right? I am expecting an Irish guy, or a Southerner. Most of us in the south are part Irish but we've been here 200 years and sound 100% southern. Not this guy. He sounded like Larry King, only more New Yorkish. He could’ve been an extra on the Sopranos.

 

He asked me at one point if my feet swelled later in the day. “Well, um, sometimes, yeah…” was my answer. He put down his pen and looked at my disgustedly.

 

“Do your feet swell, yes or no?!” he looked like a man unfamiliar with ambiguity. I swallowed hard. “Um, Yes?” I said.

 

“Yeah, Good.” He nodded with approval.

 

Hey, I don’t care how he talks, or what his issues are with uncertainty, as long as I can get rid of the itching on my feet, which has been driving me nuts. As I left the office he said "Hang in there, kid." 

 

It’s so nice to know I am not the only cook in the world who screws up occasionally. Check out where Pioneer Woman  screwed up some things. Then she fixed the mistakes and made a really tasty dish. I am green with envy.

When I got home last night from taking Alesia to Goodwill and picking up Michael from tennis practice, it was 7. I needed to fix dinner and help Michael with his homework, simultaneously. I am not good at doing two things at once. I put some green beans and canned potatoes in a pot, and covered them with beef broth [good trick, it adds more flavor], then doused with onion powder, salt and pepper. Veggies done.

I love meatloaf, but only when it's made by my mother. {I know, I am a huge baby, so what?!]. I pulled out the meat from the fridge, which Alesia had prepared, and made a meatloaf. We don’t cook it in a loaf pan like most people, we cook it in a 9x13 pan. Mother directed the preparing of it so I knew it would be good. I shaped it into a rectangle, put a piece of bacon on top for more flavor, and popped it in a 350 degree oven. That was my screwup. It needed a 375 degree oven, which I discovered when it came out looking grey and very unappetizing. Mom forgot to remind me of that. Mother puts a lot of soy sauce and water with her meatloaf and it makes it much more moist and flavorful. Well, that plus pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, etc. Mother also directed Alesia to put in freeze dried onion bits, and they were in little crunchy pieces in my meatloaf, which I hate. Ugh. No more about that meatloaf. It was unfortunate…

Alesia ate a tiny piece of it and a big bowl of green beans. When she got home from school, she had eaten a big sandwich, plus a lot of slices of summer sausage and cheese. She is eating like a truck driver again. She must be growing again.

One of my Thompson cousins emailed me last night complimenting me on my adding a few Hepzibah Stories to the site, but asking about Mink Skinner. Dad and Lewis [my cousins’ father and Dad’s oldest brother] loved to tell the Mink Skinner story. And by “story” I mean anecdote. You see, Mink, contrary to his name, was not a furrier or taxidermist. He was Hepzibah’s resident wino. On hot nights, he liked to climb on top of the icehouse and sleep. One night, his cigarette set the roof on fire and he burned to death. I don’t know how to put a positive spin on that.

I happened to remember Dad’s teachers’ name, the femme fatale. Her name was Babydoll. Well, that was her nickname. Her husband Roy got killed by a train.

Wait, that’s another story of people with odd names dealing with tragedy. I am seeing a theme here. Maybe Faulkner was right, even if he didn't understand punctuation...

I need to go out to the garage and see if I can find the manuscript I started typing. It could be a series on Showtime…

Freezing

Alesia told Michael a joke in Russian last night and he understood her, which I was glad to see. He can still understand Russian even though he can’t speak it any more. Of course, the joke used a lot of simple words that even I could understand, so it wasn’t anything too difficult.

Alesia missed the bus today because she kept telling me she didn’t need to wear a coat. It was 25 degrees outside and all she was wearing was a thin cotton tee shirt and a hoodie and jeans. I have a rule that if it’s less than 40 degrees outside in the morning, a coat must be worn. Michael didn’t want to wear his coat either. I explained to them in the car that if they walk around in weather like this with no coat on, that people will assume one of several things:

1)      They are an idiot;
2)      They are too poor to afford a coat;
3)      Their mama is a bad parent for letting them go outside poorly dressed.

While I always tell them to ignore other peoples’ opinions, this is one instance I was trying to get them to be concerned with the opinions of others. Neither acted like they bought it, though. Their first 10 years were spent in places where it’s below zero freezing cold about 9 months of the year. Twenty five degrees is a walk in the park.

We went to Goodwill tonight while Mike was at tennis practice, and found Alesia a beautiful heavy black weatherproof jacket, lined, for $5. It was Talbott’s brand and looked barely worn. I also got two movies and two cute figurines of dogs, and the whole bill was $13. That’s why it pays to shop Goodwill!

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Alesia got up at 6 a.m. this morning – I know because I could hear her in the bathroom, from my bathroom – and came downstairs one hour later for breakfast, still in pajamas. I didn’t understand that, until I noticed her hair was stick straight. Her beautiful curls were straight, flat, and lifeless looking – scared into submission, which must have taken a lot of time. Her eyes, OTOH, were carrying enough shadow to put Liz Taylor’s Cleopatra to shame. I didn’t say a word. No, wait, I did. I said, in tones of horrified incredulity, “You’ve been in the bathroom for an HOUR and that’s all you’ve accomplished?!”

Remember yesterday when I said Alesia stays mad at me all the time? Ding ding ding…

TIP!!!

Do you want to know something fun to do? Go here and look at trailers for new movies. I saw two today that really look interesting – Sunshine Cleaning Service and The Ugly Truth.

There’s a new movie coming out with Renee Zellwegger called New In Town, about a woman whose company sends her from Miami to live in Minnesota, in the winter. What intrigues me about that trailer is that it implies that someone in that situation would have to develop a whole array of skills in order to live in that environment. She has to learn how to drive in snow, how to walk in snow, how to relate to people who are a bit eccentric because they spend 9 months a year mostly staying inside, etc. When Renee’s character says flippantly “Oh, nobody ever freezes to death” another character, an older lady, says something to the effect of “We have people here freeze to death all the time,” and another old lady adds “Especially the stupid ones.” I know it’s mean, but that made me laugh out loud.

I live in the south, so freezing to death has never really been a possibility. I cannot fathom it, unless I think back to one time when I was in college and home on winter break, and the temperatures in Knoxville plummeted to below zero, and we lost power in the house. We had a wood-burning fireplace, though, and dogs to cuddle up with, so it was not a big deal. We cooked in the chafing dish and in a couple of days things were back to normal. If I had to live that way for months at a time, though, it would’ve been rough. We didn’t have cable TV.

The weather is not going to kill you in the south, unless you’re outside during a tornado or hurricane. Since 99% of all Southerners are NEVER outside during a tornado or hurricane, we survive pretty easily. I do shake my head when it’s 95 degrees outside in August and I see someone running down the street. I always think “He ain’t from around here. He’s fixing to learn about heat strokes…” Our hospitals make lots of money in the summer from transplanted northerners…

If you look at population maps of Russia, The US, Canada, and Kazakhstan, you will notice something interesting. Most of the people live around the edges. There are vast spaces in the middle where the weather is awful and nobody lives there, or at least very few people live there. Why don’t we use those spaces better? Couldn’t we put windmills on there and store some of that electricity? Or maybe we could send homeless people out there to make homesteads? Let’s think creatively, people! I am going to email President-Elect Obama about this…

To my horror, I have discovered that my orthodontia insurance coverage is as crappy as I had feared. I am going to take Michael to another orthodontist for a second opinion. The appointment is in 3 weeks. I am going to pray about it. That may be the day I have to kiss my entire tax refund goodbye…

 

Hepzibah Tales

Talking about money management and budgets is not something I enjoy. I’d rather discuss dismemberment, or the landscape of Idaho. However, Mother and I are trying to figure out ways to economize. Dad left mother decently well off financially, before the stock market tanked. Things are tight. I still have the monthly expenses of the condo, plus some child-related debt. I did pay off all my credit cards, from the home equity line. Now I pay that every month, but it’s a much lower interest rate, so I think that was the right thing to do. Both cars are paid for. We do not live extravagantly. However, strict budgets must happen.

I am bringing my lunch to work, which is really a savings. I was fixing my big spinach salad in the break room today and someone walked in and said “Ooh, you’re eating healthy!” – then I brought out the Tupperware bowl of leftover ham, and there was silence. A big salad, no matter how tasty, won’t hold me all afternoon. I need protein. Last week I did turkey. That was all I can stand for a while.

It’s also a lot easier to eat healthy if I bring my lunch. My “feel better” program went well for about 4 days out of 7 last week, then slid into malaise. However, the cumulative effect was that I do feel better, have more energy, and my knees hurt less. So I am trying to make more progress. I ordered a low impact fitness DVD today.

Speaking of DVD’s, I expect Alesia will be really mad at me in a few days, when our newest Netflix selection comes in. I ordered a 4 hour miniseries from PBS about the Medicis, to help her understand the Renaissance. Oh well. She stays mad at me anyway. Our last Netflix movie was Space Chimps, so I need to get something closer to being a learning experience. I ordered a movie called Flyboys, about WWI aviators, to bolster Michael’s knowledge of World War I. Telling him his great grandfather fought in France didn’t have a big impact. Maybe I should tell him this family story, just for fun.

My father’s family is from a tiny town outside Augusta, Georgia called Hepzibah. In the 1930’s and 40’s, when he was growing up, it was a collection of houses and businesses that was hardly more than a wide place in the road. It was filled with eccentrics like Big Boy McGhee [who got eaten by hogs, in an interesting twist of fate], Judge Wyngert [who got mad at his wife and told her to give his supper “to the G—Damn hawgs!”] and Dad’s first grade teacher, whom he adored, and who was sort of a femme fatale.Then there was my grandfather, the WWI vet with a temper. Grandaddy ran the general store. He had made it only to about the 8^th grade, then had to drop out and go to work when his father died, and from all accounts [we never met since he died in 1957] was very smart, despite his lack of education.

One day around the spring of 1942, Grandaddy told my father that he and his friends should go out and dig a trench in the backyard, to play like World War I soldiers. They were always playing war anyway. Grandaddy told them exactly where to dig, and how deep. Dad and his buddies happily dug the trench and played all summer. That fall, Grandaddy had a septic tank put in the “trench” and for the first time, there was an indoor bathroom at the Thompson house.

He might have thought that was prudent, since Dad and his brothers liked to put small snakes in the outhouse right before it was occupied by certain female cousins, who would then run out screaming, and clutching their drawers.

When my Dad was alive, he loved to tell stories about Hepzibah, and its eccentric inhabitants. There were family stories, and stories about prominent citizens, like the aforementioned. (Think Mayberry meets The Twilight Zone.) I tried to get Dad to write down his stories, and there are a few in written form, but they were never as interesting as when he told them. If he and his brothers were all drinking and telling stories, it was quite entertaining. They were known around town as “The Wild Thompson Boys.” Dad later became a banker, and both his brothers became teachers, which is sort of ironic.

Here's Dad, before he was married.

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I came home early today, and took Michael to the orthodontist. He was a kindly older man and I liked him. He was very reassuring with Michael, even after telling him he will have to get 4 teeth pulled. The bad news came at the end. The girl in the office said my insurance will only pay half what I was told would be paid. Apparently, this office isn’t in network. I was so irritated, because I’d asked them that first thing, when I called. The girl couldn’t have been more than 20 and didn’t seem to understand the term “in network.” Now I have to call the dental insurance folks and find out what’s my real coverage, and figure out what to do. Even with the coverage I was thinking I had, the braces will cost several thousand dollars and have to stay on for 2 years. Yikes. I so dread this ordeal, for Michael’s sake. I can find the money; it's his pain that worries me.

 

I was horrified just before going there, when I came home and was talking to Mother and Mike. His math teacher had sent home a page of work on which he missed every single problem, and there were probably 30 problems. I confronted Michael about it, but I was very gentle. He shut down. He wouldn’t say a word. I don’t know if he was just being careless, or if he panicked because the teacher said do the problems quickly. After dinner, he did about 6 problems for me, perfectly. I think he just got nervous in math class.

Triggering and Button Pushing

Michael loves music and has a musical ear, even though he can’t sing on key. He did fine on the recorder, learning to read notes in a basic way to play little tunes. I asked him last night what was happening in music class these days. He made a face. “We’re just singing.” I thought good, that has nothing to do with your hand.

“What  are y’all singing, what songs?”

“Some song about John Henry. He had a hammer. Starts out, something about John Henry was a baby…”

I remembered singing a song about John Henry when I was in elementary school. Michael didn’t seem enthusiastic about the singing, so I went on YouTube online and found some videos of the song John Henry. We watched several, including things with Johnny Case and Bruce Sprinsteen. Michael got impatient with their long, talkative introductions.

I have come to realize that guys playing guitars and singing in tenor voices disturbs Michael. One video was a guy singing and playing the harmonica, a middle-aged white guy who was surprisingly good. As soon as it started, Michael looked at him and his face screwed up, greatly disturbed. “That guy’s DRUNK!” he said.

“No, he’s just trying to perform the song in an exciting way. He’s not drunk. He couldn’t play that well if he was drunk,” I corrected him.

Michael shook his head firmly. “No, I’m telling you, he’s DRUNK. Turn it off.”

We kept arguing for a minute, with Michael insistent the guy was drunk. I finally turned it off.

I wondered why he said that. I have noticed he doesn’t like to listen to my Allman Brothers greatest hits CD, which I love. That kind of music [tenor voices, guitars] makes him very uncomfortable. I can see a haunted look in his eyes when he hears it. I suspect there’s some long-buried memory that causes some types of music to be upsetting to him, but I have no idea what it could be.

We went to Target Friday night, mainly to get Michael some new pants. He keeps growing out of his pants, or refusing to wear them because they are “uncomfortable.” His favorite shorts at the moment are a pair or Phat Farm shorts which I guess are very fashionable. I got them on sale at Macys.

We got into the boys’ department at Target, he took one look around, and said “There’s nothing here I want. Let’s go.”

“Oh c’mon Mike, I’m sure we can find a couple pairs of pants here. Let’s look. Here –“

His face screwed up like he had just eaten a persimmon. “I don’t like that,” he said, hardly glancing at the shorts I was showing him.

I got the same reaction to every pair of jeans or shorts we saw. Nothing suited him. He actually started whining and walking away from me, trying to get out of the department as quickly as possible. I don’t know why. He used to like shopping at Target, or Old Navy, with me. Now he turns into Mr. Grumpy. I finally thought, duh, there is something else at work here. He wouldn’t talk, and became more and more agitated. Finally, I just said “Well, OK, you’re gonna have to do laundry a lot, but so be it.”

He does his own laundry, with great reluctance. He said he didn’t mind doing it, though, clearly wanting to get as far away as possible from those clothes.

Now, he may have simply been overwhelmed with choices. When we've gone on other shopping trips, even when he had a nice gift card and we were looking at toys and games, he has just rejected everything, overwhelmed by too many choices. He spent the first 10 years of his life in a place where he seldome was able to shop for anything, and there simply are no stores with anything like the amount of merchandise as a Target. Store in Kazakhstan are much like flea market booths. Tiny.

However, I think there was more going on, too.

Neither one of my kids want to grow up. They haven’t had enough stable, secure years with me, yet. Maybe new, bigger clothes represent growing up to him, and a loss of safety. If I say something like “Well, when you grow up and get your own place…” they shake their heads and don’t want to discuss it. Michael has said he wishes he were younger. Alesia tells people she’s 15, not 17.

I am trying to teach myself how to recognize when the kids misbehave, what is really going on with them. Are they just being ornery, or are there deeper issues? I think most of the time there are deeper issues. I am learning more and more about “triggers” and how they affect kids who have been abused.

Michael has been invited to the birthday party for a child in his class this Saturday. He is wild with excitement. It will be only the third birthday party he has attended in America [besides his and Alesia’s]. When I called to RSVP, I asked the father what are the child’s interests, so we could get a gift, and he sighed. “He has too much stuff already, Ms. Thompson. A gift card for a small amount would be fine.”

So, we will find him a gift card tomorrow. I am kind of excited to take Michael because the child lives in a really swanky group of homes near here.

BUTTON PUSHING

We had a nice evening, and then Alesia screwed it up right before bed.

She put her new MP3 player in her purse. I have warned her not to take that to school, where it will be stolen.  I personally know if 4 instances where those were stolen out of lockers. “Nobody will steal it from my gym locker,” she said, flippantly.

“Alesia, I’m just telling you, if it gets stolen, I won’t be buying another one. That’s the third one.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

I told her goodnight, then went into Michael’s room. I was standing next to his bed, when she stomped by and threw something across the room, before bounding downstairs.

I said “Alesia! How many times have I told you not to throw things in the house? Come pick it up!”

“I didn’t throw it at you, Mom,” she said, very blasé.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve told you 100 times not to throw things in the house, ever,” I replied, getting seriously ticked. Alesia just shrugged, like it was no big deal. I lost it. Sort of. I didn’t yell.

I opened her door, stuck in my head, and said angrily “You ever throw anything again, I will take away your MP3, your cash, everything in this room!”

I shut the door angrily, and finished tucking Michael in bed.

I am going to ask Mother to tell her tomorrow that the correct way to handle that would’ve been to simply say “I’m sorry, I forgot about the no throwing rule,” instead of acting like it didn’t matter and I was cuckoo for getting mad.

Grrrrr….

Embarrassing the Kids

After yesterday’s whirlwind of activities, I was ready to just chill out today. God, who I know has a sense of humor, turned the weather unexpectedly chilly – the high today was less than 45. In Atlanta, that qualifies as “bitter cold.” We actually needed coats to go outside! In January! Dang.

We had to do the usual weekend Kroger run, and poor Granny nearly froze to death. There is some bizarre irony to that. I have watched my hot-natured mother for most of my life live in houses cooled to arctic conditions. My father used to walk into the chilled air of his house and bellow “It’s cold enough to hang meat in here!” – and that was in August.

Now, like most seniors, Granny is cold-natured. I got her a small space heater for her room, and after she got over her initial fear of it, she has used it a lot. It was not cheap. It has all the safety features I could find. After I kicked it over and demonstrated it automatically cuts off, and it won’t set her carpet or Coco on fire, she relaxed a bit.

We’re in Kroger today, me in shirtsleeves, Mother on her motorized cart, bundled in her heavy coat, and Mother asked me to get some whipping cream for a recipe. I grabbed a carton of it and she said sharply, “Check the date on it!” I just started laughing. “Mom, I am 46 years old. I know to check the expiration date!”

After lunch, we brought Mother home for her nap, and the kids and I went to Michael’s to get the poster about my grandfather, the baseball player, framed.

As I walk in the store, Alesia peels off to look at scrapbook supplies, and Michael and I headed to the back, to the frame shop. I was hardly paying attention to the music overhead, but suddenly, I hear David Cassidy singing “I Think I Love You!” and I was 9 years old again. “I think I love you, so what am I so afraid of? I’m afraid that I’m not sure of, a love there is no cure for…” I sang along. Michael was looking at me like have you lost your MIND, Mom?!

I embarrassed him further when I referred to the clerk as a “she” – and the clerk was a he. It was really tough to tell, until the end of the transaction when I noticed the hairy hands. As we walked off, Michael was muttering “Mo-om! I can’t believe you called that man a she! Jeez!”

“Calm down. I bet he gets that all the time. He needs to grow a beard.”

I am glad I have lived long enough to embarrass my kids in public places. I am carrying on the great legacy started by my father in 1972, when he used to dance and sing in the parking lot of the Regas restaurant in Knoxville. Regas piped music outside, much to the horror of me and my brother the first time we ate there. Dad loved to sing and dance over to the car, while Bruce and I tried to crawl underneath the car.

Michael is gradually coming to accept the idea that he’s probably going to have to get braces. We have an appointment with the orthodontist Tuesday. At first he was horrified. “Will I have to have teeth pulled?! I won’t be able to eat peanut butter!”

“Mike, I don’t know what you will be able to eat, but I’m told that often if you get braces, then the doctor won’t have to pull any teeth. I’m trying to prevent them pulling more teeth.” He had teeth pulled in Kazakhstan without any anesthesia, which is why he hates dentists.

Another MAPREC photo:

From left, Anya, Lesleigh, Alesia and Elena [Anya's birth sister].

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Are you on Facebook? If so, would you please confirm I am the author of The Crab Chronicles? Here's the link. Thanks!

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I am getting more and more excited to be part of the book Call Me Okaasan, and I was tickled to see Suzanne Kamata, who conceived the project, had put a mention of me on her blog. The cover art is really provocative and cool. Check it out!