Heaven and Hell

There's a Willie Nelson song that goes, "Well, some days it's Heaven and some days it's Hell and some days I just don't know..." 

Sing it, Willie!

Well, today I pretty much knew.  It was Hell. 

That's gotta hurt.

But the good thing about life (and country songs) is that there just might be a 2nd verse, or at very least a refrain. 

Smells Like Teen Spirit...Well, Teen Stench Anyways

The teens have been smelling bad lately...I mean, like PU.  Ick.

No, they haven't given up showering.  They have both joined high school sports teams.  Yes, both are involved in winter sports. 
The oldest is my wrestler.  He's been part of the team since freshman year.  This year, as a senior, he was named by his coach in the local paper as "key returner."  But his "key" return was nearly sidetracked this week by the worst of the worst for wrestlers....RINGWORM~

Who knew those little buggers could be so cute?

Yes, I know.  Ick!  Gross!  Blech!  A gross addition to the already gross smell that enters my car every time I pick him up.  But the ringworm has been taken care of, and he will have his first match tomorrow.  I am super pumped. 

My daughter is running indoor track this year.  And you know what?  She suddenly stinks too.  And she gets in the same car. 

Could someone get me a nice nose plug for Christmas?  Please???

So, for the next 3 months, I will run my children from practice, to matches and meets, and generally put up with the smell.  And you know what?  I'm ok with that because it makes them happy, and they make me proud.  So what if I have no sense of smell by the end of winter sports season?  Nose hairs grow back, don't they? 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hTWKbfoikeg

Thankfully Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving time is here again.  Not that you would know from all the CHRISTMAS commercials blitzing up the television airwaves, flyers, and mailings.  Shit, Black Friday actually starts on THANKSGIVING THURSDAY this year.  It makes me wanna say to the marketing people who think of these things:

Obligatory cute kitten meme! 

But Thanksgiving deserves its own kudos.  I have so much for which to be thankful.  It's sometimes hard to see it in the dark times, but I do.  And I HATE it that the holiday doesn't always get the respect it deserves.  I have a friend who has posted since Halloween ended "Respect the turkey."  There are plenty of memes out there that support her point of view.

Yeah, like that...

And you know what?  She's right.  So I am thankful that tomorrow is Thanksgiving.  I am thankful that tomorrow I will run a 3.1 mile race, then gorge my gut with turkey that I don't even have to cook (my mother-in-law takes that task on).  I am thankful for the opportunity to spend quality time with my family. 

I am just thankful...

And then I told my teenagers that their father was a "stallion" in bed

I'm going to quit driving my kids places.  True story from last night's 10 minute drive with the teens to drop them off at their activities:

18 Year Old Son:  Mom, can I have sex since I'm 18 now and technically an adult?

Me:  You can have sex now that you're 18 but you probably shouldn't.  I don't want any grandchildren.

Son:  Well, if I'm gonna have sex and get some girl pregnant, it better be worth it.

Me: (remaining calm because we've had this conversation before) I think it's probably worth it.  Otherwise, people wouldn't have sex if they didn't want babies.  Not that I want either of you to have sex until you're ready.

15 Year Old Daughter:  Well, now that you've made it seems so interesting....

Me:  I'd think that it would already be interesting.  (to son) Maybe you should talk to your friends who are having sex and ask them these questions.

Son:  None of them are having sex.

Me:  (sarcastically) What's happened to kids today?  In my day, we were doing it like monkeys.

Son:  So you had sex when you were a teenager.

Me:  I didn't say me.

Daughter:  But you said "we."

Son:  And you dated Dad in high school.  (to his sister).  Mom and Dad did it.

Me:  I didn't say that.  

Son:  Do you and Dad have still do it?

Me:  That's really none of your business.  You're a little too interested in my sex life.

Son:  Well, you said it was worth it.

Me:  What do you want me to tell you--that your father is a stallion in bed?

Daughter:  Who thinks puppies are cute?  I think puppies are cute.  What about you guys?  Do you think puppies are cute?

The conversation only went downhill from there.  I think their father needs to take them to their activities.  He says the conversations are not NEARLY as uncomfortable.  

Where Are You?

My Facebook page has exploded with a very important debate--no, not the upcoming election (although it's exploded with that).  The "bandwagon" status of posting what all the things for which you're grateful in the month of November.  People have jumped on or completely blasted those who have decided to jump on.  And I am just aghast at how ugly this has become.

Those of you who read my blog know that several months ago, I read a book that said that gratitude was one of the biggest ways in life to get what you want.  One of the exercises that the book recommended was writing 10 things per day for which I was grateful and WHY I was grateful for them.  And I did...every day.  Since July, I have only missed 2 days.  So, when the November "month of thanks" statuses started, I have to admit, I was a bandwagon jumper.  What's one more thing?  Sometimes it's something from my gratitude journal and that's ok.

Here's the thing.  The end of November is traditionally the start of a several month long battle with depression for me.  It's darker, it's colder, and there are a lot of bad and sad memories associated with  those cold winter months.  It starts on November 30th with my mother's birthday (she passed when I was 12), moves to 18 days later on December 17th with the anniversary of her death, then we have the hustle and bustle and craziness of Christmas, followed by the anniversary of my father's death on January 18th.  February gives a reprieve, only to have my dad's birthday in March.  Some years I deal just fine with it; some years, not so fine.  But finding the good in my life helps.  It is where I am.  It's what I need to do.

At the same time, I realize that other people are where they are.  I can imagine that for some, the month long reading of Mary Sunshine posts can be grating.  I've read some that make me go "Ugh!" and I'm on the bandwagon!  And that is where some people are.

Then, there are those who have raged against the hypocrisy of the whole thing.  Why is November the only month to be grateful?  Again, I agree.  Some people will use this month as a launching pad to be grateful every day of their lives.  Others will begin griping as soon as midnight December 1st happens, IF they make it through the month.  Some are already grateful everyday and don't feel the need to bother their Facebook friends with it.  Some are so knee-deep in whatever demons they have that they cannot find the good (or there may not be good). 

My point is, we are all in different places in our lives.  I know where I am.  I know what I have to do and don't have to do.  I am also aware that others are in a different place, and I respect that.  I just hope that friendships are not destroyed because we can't meet people where they are because that would certainly be a shame. 

Adulthood, Responsibilities, and Alice Cooper

So, last Saturday, I became the parent of an adult.  No, I didn't go adopt some poor underprivileged 35 year old from the seedy side of town (Tony never lets me have any fun).  My son turned 18. 

Isn't he a good-lookin' thing?  Takes after his mama!

Now, I know you're thinking, "How can this be?   She's so young, so full of life.  She can't be much more than 18 herself!" 

No really, you ARE thinking that, RIGHT???

But no, I am the parent of an 18 year old, and I didn't really have him at the age of 6.   And if you're thinking this is shocking, imagine how I feel.

It seems like just yesterday that I was holding this tiny little baby with tufts of black hair in my arms.  Boy, was I scared.  I mean, I could've DROPPED that bundle...like on the floor...which wasn't clean...because I'm a horrible housekeeper and always was.  Where did that last 18 years go?    It sure went by fast.

But I hope that he has a few years of fun left before he's saddled with the drudgery that most of us adults face:  bills, family responsibilities. You know--pay your bills, go to work, raise your children, die.
Ok, maybe not.   After all, he's 18, and he don't know what he wants.

Right, Alice?

But I know what I want for him.  A good life.  

Paperwork & Nostalgia

Here's a quote from the late Frank Zappa that has really been fitting my life in the last week and a half: 

"It isn't necessary to imagine the world ending in fire or ice. There are two other possibilities: one is paperwork, and the other is nostalgia."

Yeah, THAT Frank Zappa...father of Moon Unit and Dweezil...rock god....visionary...dead.

I have said before that the months of September through June are a whirlwind of running and working and craziness that exhaust me.  Love my job...really...but every year, there is more paperwork...more and more forms to fill out in triplicate...more tree killin'.  

TIMBERRRRRRRR....

This year has been no exception.  When I started in special education years ago, IEPs (that's Individualized Education Plans for you lay folks) were like 8 pages long...half the time, that INCLUDED the signature page.  Nowadays, the IEP is around 23 pages long...and that's not even considered one of the complicated ones.  Yep, that's 15 extra pages of legal mumbo jumbo, filler, and jargon. And let's not start on all the extra forms that need to be filled out.  Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork...It seems to have taken over my life.

Send in a rescue squad!!!

But let's not forget the 2nd part of Zappa's quote...nostalgia.  With all this paperwork, nostalgia for summertime has also run rampant in my head.  I miss the carefree days of 2 weeks ago.  I miss my youth when I didn't have anything to do but go to school and worry whether the boy I liked liked me back.  I miss the days of being the supported, not the supporter.  It can be quite a stressful feeling to want to go back. 

Because who WOULDN'T wanna go back to high school 80s hair and clothes???

 So, bring on the fire and ice.  I'm not afraid.  Because I've faced paperwork and nostalgia and lived to tell about it.  But something tells me, Mr. Zappa may have a point...