FlipSide:Starting October 1, 2001

A journal of the trials, tribulations, and triumphs in the life of a woman in the 21st century.

Last Updated : Friday, October 05, 2001 10:47:53 PM -0500

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Monday, October 1, 2001

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It has been a peculiar few days. On Saturday, we babysat for a good friend of ours who went out on his first date since his divorce. He got home around 3:30 in the morning. Due to this, we didn't hit the bed ourselves until roughly 5 am. It has been a long long time since I have been up that late. Not that I begrudge the guy any of the time. I would do it for him again. But I am still really punchy. Maybe that is why things are striking me as so strange.

There was my coworker who walked out of the office with his empty (I presume) coffee cup straight into the men's room. I was really hoping I wasn't going to see him walk back in with a full cup.

And the picketing state workers in the skyways.

My mother, who has a nurse with the last name of Effenheim. (I swear I giggled for a full minute over that one. Then I had to explain to my mother why it was funny. Suddenly I was 15 again.)

I'm afraid I am too tired to even think of all the strange things that happened today. Just trust me, it is a weird weird world we live in.

Tuesday, October 2, 2001

Wednesday, October 3, 2001

Well, we made it. I used to make the drive to Iowa all the time by myself, but I haven't done it for about 13 years. Amazing how paranoid one suddenly gets about every single noise the car makes. Probably has something to do with being the sole adult responsible for the two monkeys in the back seat.

We pulled into my Mom's parking lot at 11:00 precisely and started unloading the car. After of course, I had awakened surly, snarly girl. God forbid, I wanted her to actually carry things. Get used to it baby, you're strictly middle-class, ain't nobody waiting on ya'. Learn it now. It'll save you a lot of grief in the future. Jack, of course, didn't sleep at all the whole 5 1/2 hours (the 1/2 consisting of potty stops. We hadn't even been on the road an hour when they absolutely positively HAD to GO!) He kept up chatter most of the way. Which was sometimes nice and sometimes positively annoying. The "mommymommymommymommy" thing gets really old. Especially when you don't have any place to escape to, and the stereo only goes up so loud. Not that that stops him, he just out-shouts it. Sigh.

After unloading, reporting in to headquarters (John, who doesn't like to sleep alone, feline company excluded of course), blowing up their air mattresses (dear, we really need to invest in an electric air pump, the hand one about killed me. It took me 15 minutes to pump the 2 of them up. My back is killing me! (ed - Welcome to my world -- jd.)) and settling the kids down (that took some doing, having been confined to a car for the entire evening, they, especially Jack, wanted to run wild) I turned on the TV to discover that my mother's remote is completely kaput. I am such a baby. I never had a remote for a TV until a couple of years ago and now I consider it a major inconvenience to change the channel. I ended up just sitting right in front of it so I could surf with ease. And ya' know what? There is never anything on to watch when I can stay up late. There is always something interesting to watch when I have to be up at the crack of dawn. It's a conspiracy, I tell you. Hey, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to get you, ya' know.

My dread of making this drive has led me to ponder the loss of my independence. I used to make long trips by myself without second thoughts. Just hop in the car and go. Hell, I drove back from New York City to Iowa after working out East one summer all by myself. I even stayed on my own at a hotel. I took myself to college, even my first day as a freshmen. Then, tonight I am positively paranoid with the fear of fanatical religious zealots hijacking my car to run into a barn to breed maximum fear among the Amish and cattle carnage (okay, so car trouble was more likely) or any other of a number of things that could go wrong.

I suppose some of that is just from habit. I have become used to relying on John for things. He is a very reliable guy. But what happened to relying on myself and my own resources? Or is it the responsibility of the well-being of others hanging on my choices and skills weighing upon my mind? Being the slightly (!) neurotic and guilt-ridden type, it sometimes doesn't take much to set me off into a tizzy.

Well, let's see if I can get this to upload. Then to bed. Nighty-night.

-----------------See! They are too out to get me!------------------

So much for my husband's detailed instructions. They don't work. He will be getting an email from me. Seems this SSH Secure Shell is supposed to have our host's stuff all set up in a profile. Ahh, nope. Thank you for playing. There are no profiles listed under "profiles". Not to mention, further in the instructions he tells me to "enter your password". One problem. He didn't give me one. Hmmm . . . we need to work on the details here, methinks. Well, I will email this to him and have him post it or something. Arragh!

(ed - since corrected. My bad. Went too fast with the setup of the alternate ISP on the laptop, forgot to configure SSH. Stuff happens when you try to move too quickly. -- jd)

Thursday, October 4, 2001

First of all, contrary to my husband's lament that he has been left all alone in a house devoid of chocolate, there is chocolate in the pantry (Nips) and in the freezer (drumsticks, ice cream). And there is always ALWAYS the raw materials to make various forms of chocolate around the house. However, the most damning thing I can say about the whole sorry situation is that the man went to the grocery store tonight and spent $13. And he purchased no chocolate? I question his claim of withdrawal. And his sanity.

Before my eyes were even blinking in unison this morning I was confronted with issues. First, the phone rings at 8:30. Rhiannon runs into the bedroom from the TV to inform me of this. (Like I couldn't hear it. It sounds like a fire alarm.) In a rather alarmed tone. By the time I get out to it, it has gone into the machine. I stagger back to bed and it rings again. Sigh. It is a telemarketer wanting to why my mother doesn't subscribe to the QC Times. I gave him a suitable guilt trip and hung up. Coffee. That's what I need. So I made coffee. And then realized/remembered that I hadn't been to the store yet to buy creamer (Mom takes it black). Sigh. Roust the kids from in front of the TV and get everyone dressed and head to the store. $50 bucks later, I have bought the bare minimums. One of the bad things about small towns, groceries cost more. Much more.

By now it is about 10:30 and I'm doing a good imitation of an alert human being, after my coffee (with hazelnut creamer), of course. Then Sharon comes over to greet the kids and it is time to contemplate lunch. Hell. I haven't even had breakfast. Sharon leaves to get her granddaughter from preschool. I start lunch. Macaroni and cheese and hot dogs. Chili dogs for those of us with taste. Part way through the preparation I realize that (1) I forgot sour cream at the grocery store. A main ingredient to the Mac & Cheese. (2) I forgot my recipes at home, so I will not be making birthday cakes from scratch. So, After Sharon arrives for lunch, I trundle back to the grocery store.

Finally everyone is fed, the dishes are done (the dishwasher is broken, so I am doing them all by hand. It makes a good drainer, though. Damn thing.) and the kids have left with Sharon. So now I arrange for the delivery of the oxygen tank, commode, and other assorted paraphernalia associated with my mother's return home. I finally get on the road to get Mom from the hospital about 2:15. After all the rig-a-marole there, we finally get back home around 4:30. I get Mom set up, harp on her to use her oxygen (she gives me a dirty look, talk about role reversal) and set about making a cake for Sharon's birthday today. Then it is time to make supper. Sigh. And on the phone tonight, my dear absent husband refers to this as "vacation". Puleeze! I think he already rues the remark. As well he should. I now expect a clean house when I return, so I can see that his "vacation" has been as restful as mine. So there!

Hark! What's that I hear? Could that be thundering silence from the bedroom occupied by my offspring? Aaah, now it all makes sense. I look up, and there is my second-born, on his hands and knees, peaking around the corner. Apparently his partner in crime has fallen asleep and he has no one to entertain him.

Well, I have butts to beat and beds to hit, so I am off. Tomorrow can only get better, right?

Friday, October 5, 2001

Putting my children to bed is like herding cats. Unless you physically pick them up and put them where you want them to be, they will putz and delay and meander and procrastinate and just out and out defy you until you completely lose your cool. Then suddenly, they are in place, blinking up at you with big eyes like "Yes mother dear?"

All in all, though, they have been pretty good. Some of it is that, I think, they understand that Grandma is not well and they need to be good. Of course, the other, more realistic reason is that they realize they only have one parent available right now and if they royally piss off said parent, they are SOL. (Rhiannon asked one day just what SOL meant. John promptly replied, "Shucks, out of luck". Pretty quick witted, that man.)

Despite my daughter's best attempts, I have a hard time believing that everything is Jack's fault. Apparently she thinks I am partially deaf and can't hear her egging him on. Then, when she decides she has had enough, she declares a unilateral cease fire and is unset when her brother doesn't honor the truce. At which point she appeals to the UN Security Council for proper sanctions against the offending party. Of course, as I am typing this, Jack emerges from the bedroom yet again, this time complaining that his sleeping bag is unzipped. Gee, how could that be? Couldn't have anything to do with the fact that he has been jumping around on his air mattress, wiggling and sliding around, now could it? What does he think I am, stupid? One of these days, that damn thing is going to pop and he is going to be sleeping on the floor.

Apparently I have perfected "the look of death". Jack came out again, complaining his sister is throwing pillows. I just looked at him and he beat a hasty retreat.

Oooh, we have moved on to outright defiance now. The spankings have been done and now the nightlight has been confiscated. And Jack apparently has decided that the best course of action to recover the light is to shout at me. Wrong answer. Thank you for playing. However, it now appears to be quiet on the western front. Youngest monkey is sitting on the edge of his mattress, head on his knees pouting. With the occasional grunt at his mother. Well, at least it is quiet.

It is homecoming in my hometown. And Maquoketa won its homecoming game 40 to 0. Obviously quite a challenge. But then again, you aren't looking for a challenge at homecoming, you are looking for a win to celebrate. Looks like that got that in spades tonight. To be fair, though, they are having a really good season and have beat several larger schools. It would be nice for them to go to state. In a small town, a big part of your identity resides in the success or failure of the high school sports team. Especially the football and basketball teams. Often when you drive through a small town in the Midwest you will see, posted right by the welcome sign, a list of state tournament victories for the hometown team.

Saturday, October 6, 2001

Sunday, October 7, 2001

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