FlipSide:Starting December 31, 2001

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triumphs in the life of a woman in the 21st century.

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Monday, December 31, 2001

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Back from Iowa, but not back in the routine . . .

Tuesday, January 1, 2002

Happy New Year!

Wednesday, January 2, 2002

Good God. Isn't it Friday yet! I'm so confused. What day is it anyway? Are the holidays over already?

Thursday, January 3, 2002

Well, welcome back to my humble corner of the web. It has been about 2 weeks since I last updated you on my skewed perspective. I hope you all had a great Christmas and a Happy New Year (or were able to quietly ignore the whole thing should that be your preference). My holiday boils down to one of the classic old movies. No, not "It's a Wonderful Life" or "Miracle on 34th Street", although we had many opportunities to view those screen gems. (If you don't like those movies, I DON'T want to hear it. They are among my favorites and I make no apologies for it. I like "The Sound of Music" too. So there.) No, my holiday was more like "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly". Cue theme music . . .

THE GOOD

First, the good. I managed to leave work close to on time and we packed up most everything that we planned to take (except for the 5 Christmas stockings I had carefully selected and especially purchased which my husband left laying on the top of the freezer). The trip down was mostly uneventful, except for John's untimely stop in Kieler. (See "the bad".)

The next day we went out and selected a lovely Scotch Pine (I think) for the kind tree farmer to cut down for our Christmas tree. We went back to Mom's and decorated it and were treated to one of the vagarities of Iowa weather. A thunder and hail storm. In December. Most disconcerting.

(ed - she fails to note that the sound of the chainsaw scared Jack - I had previous visions of him waving one around his head in a few years, cackling maniacally... -- jd)

The next few days were a flurry of activity as we prepared for and celebrated Christmas. Gifts were wrapped and ceremoniously unwrapped. Hugs were exchanged and small children squealed with delight at all their gifts. (Even underwear.) Food was made and consumed. (My stomach rebelled, as it is wont to this time of year when I stuff it full of things that I normally don't in a most unseemly manner. Thank God for Pepcid!)

The after Christmas sales were especially good this year, as we found when we were exchanging Jack's Superman "Underoos" that were underpant-less. So we spend a little more money outfitting the kids than we anticipated, but it was well worth the effort. We also dined at Long John Silvers. For those of you who have never been to a Long John Silvers, basically, it is McDonald's does Seafood. Everything is battered and fried. Which did not please my already abused tummy. I don't think my body is on speaking terms with me right now. In fact, I KNOW it isn't. It just sends me little pouty signals every once in a while. And when your stomach is pouting, believe me, you know about it. It's kinda like a kid throwing stuff at the walls of their room in a temper tantrum. Urg.

John and I actually got a "date night" and John got to see THE LORD OF THE RINGS. He was most impressed. Since I hadn't read the books, I needed some explaining and I didn't like the non-ending, but other than that, it was pretty good.

Our trip home was even more uneventful than our trip to Iowa, with no unplanned detours. I worked on New Year's Eve and then we had a lovely get together with some friends of ours where we consumed more food than most third world countries do in a year (and with leftovers to boot!). For once, we actually had competing invitations! That hasn't happened since before we had kids. I guess we are getting old when our 8 year old has more of a social life than we do.

New Year's Day was the long-awaited day for Rhiannon to get her ears pierced. Rhiannon has been asking on and off since she she started Kindergarten to get her ears pierced. Since she had proved her readiness by dressing herself on a regular basis and brushing her hair and teeth without being reminded 20 or 30 times, she was deemed ready for this next step. Rhiannon is now the proud owner of pink tourmaline studs. She has been wearing her hair behind her ears ever since. Just so everyone will notice. But, leaving nothing to chance, she has also been hanging her head 6 inches from people's faces going "Do you notice anything different?" Subtle as a freight train, that's my girl.

THE BAD

It would appear something John ate that day (could it have been the underdone turkey or the store-bought mashed potatoes and gravy from his company Christmas party?) didn't agree with him and decided that whatever it was, it, most emphatically, MUST come out. Unfortunately, his colon was not so choosey as to where this happened, so we found ourselves in an area of southwestern Wisconsin that had no open gas stations and no rest areas. In Kieler, as John was just holding on by his fingernails, we found an Amoco with it's lights on. However, this was apparently only for advertising or to discourage vandals, as the store was locked up tight as a drum. So poor John was left to relieve himself in a most undignified manner. (Hopefully the poor guy who took out the trash the next morning just thought there was a really REALLY big dog in the area.) I bet you are really scared that this isn't the ugly. It's only in the "bad" category.

(ed - gee, thanks, dear... -- jd)

We lugged our DVD player down to my moms so the kids could view the movies that they got for Christmas. Unfortunately, my mother's TV is too old to be DVD compatible, so we need to make a little trip to Radio Shack to find a connector. What John expected to be a $1 connector turned out to be a $30 box. Sheese. Oh well, at least we won't go through THAT again.

There is a saying that goes, "An early guest is one of life's little disasters." Well, let me tell you, a LATE dinner guest is one of life's little catastrophes. Especially when you have children to feed. My cousin fell asleep watching TV and so was about 45 minutes late for Christmas dinner. Oh well, everything reheats in the microwave. Almost as good as new. It was more important to have his company than to eat as soon as the food was done.

THE UGLY

Well, the Christmas finances are always UGLY. But, unfortunately, this year the "ugly" truly was just that. John's father fell outside the barbershop on the 20th and chipped (or broke, depending on who you talk to) his kneecap. Of course, he didn't care to go to the doctor that day, as he was stubbornly sure that the blood blisters and the truly amazing profusion of purple swelling on his knee would subside overnight. Of course, the only thing that was different the next day was the fact that he couldn't bend his knee at all.

So off he went to the hospital for tests. We found out about all this just as we were preparing to leave town. Since it was not a life threatening issue and it was definitely NOT going to be making for a merry Christmas up in St. Cloud, we were urged to continue with our plans to spend the holiday in Iowa. John again touched base with his family on Christmas Eve, at which point we found out the exact diagnosis and the fact that Jack was going back to the doctor on the 26th. They would give us a call with the update then.

Well, December 26 rolled around with more bad news. Early that morning, I received a call letting me know that a close friend's aunt and uncle had been murdered in their home in Brainerd that previous Sunday night or early Christmas Eve. This is the same friend who is going through a divorce and all the various headaches and heartaches that accompany that. 2001 was not a good year for him. Needless to say, it wasn't the best way to wake up. After making phone calls to the bereaved family and some other friends, it was decided that we would send flowers and not attend the funeral, which was set for New Year's Eve.

After being in kinda a fog all day, due to that and the just plain let down after Christmas, John decided to call his family, since he hadn't heard about his father's doctor's appointment and they probably didn't know about the tragedy in Brainerd. So, he called his family at about 9:45 that night. Granted, probably not the best time. When his youngest sister answered the phone, she proceeded to read him the riot act. John just told her he would call back the next day. When he called back that morning, she again answered the phone and again proceeded to harangue John for his effrontery. He just kept saying "put Mom on the phone. Put Mom on the phone." Finally, her spleen sufficiently vented, she put John's mom on the phone. By this time, John had exhausted many of the minutes that remained on that phone card, so he just said, "Please save any articles regarding the Brainerd murder. It was Jon's aunt and uncle. I am running out of time on this phone card, I assume everything is okay with Dad since you never bothered to call. Goodbye."

Now, wouldn't you think that she would call back and see what was the matter? To maybe assure him his father was fine? Check to see if she should send a card to the family of the victims? Nope. To date, we still haven't heard a word. I swear, the relationship with that branch of the family continues to go downhill. For myself, it doesn't matter that much, but it is frustrating to watch it wound my husband and my children.

And in summary . . .

Although at first glance it may seem we had a fairly sad Christmas, it actually was some very nice family time. Rather quiet, which is what we really had hoped for, as we all needed some extra rest. I hope everyone had a great holiday season. Now, for the long, dreary stretch to the next formally recognized holiday, Memorial Day, in May . . .

Friday, January 4, 2002

You gotta remember to watch what you say around your kids. Even the most innocuous comment will come back to haunt you at the worst time. While we were visiting my mother, Mom was preparing for her weekly jaunt tothe Eagles Club with some friends for their weekly prize drawing. In case you are in doubt, let me clear the matter up. That is, in fact, an establishment that sells alcoholic spirits. My 70 year old mother goes to the bar every Wednesday night (and no, we are not related to Mat Lemmings [insert link to Mat Lemmings]). Rhiannon stoutly defended her grandmother, staunching saying that her grandmother did NOT go to a bar. (Isn't her faith in the goodness of her grandmother touching.) Her kindly grandmother, with a twinkle in her eye (in anticipation of coming libations, no doubt) bent down and said, "Yes, Rhiannon. I'm going to the bar." (This is the Irish side of the family, ya' know.) Rhiannon was shocked but seemed to recover and we all forgot about it.

Until the Brownie meeting last night.

Unfortunately, I have been relatively unwell lately. (Physically. Let's leave my mental state out of this, please.) Stayed home from work on Wednesday and slept until almost 2 pm!!! Haven't done that since I was a teenager. Then last night had to run run run. I had my annual OB/GYN appointment so, I was out of work early. (The worst thing about having a doctor's appointment immediately after the holidays is you know, without a doubt, just how much weight you put on over the holidays. Cripes. Back to the straight and narrow for this kid.) So, I'm thinking, "Gee, some extra time. Maybe we'll actually get the kitchen cleaned tonight." Nope, nada. Not gonna happen. Should have known I was asking for trouble just by thinking that way. I was just at daycare picking up the Moose when John called.

"Rhiannon says she has a girl scout meeting tonight."
"Naw, I'd have remembered that. Wouldn't I? I'll make a call."
Hang up. Call Maggie, another Mom in the troop.
"Hey, Maggie. Do we have Brownies tonight?"
"Yup."
"Crap! See you there."

I'm sure that conversation was the high point in her day.

Run to Arby's and pick up some dinner, since all my supposed free time has now been spoken for.

And then there was the brownie meeting. The girls were rehearsing phone manners. One of Rhiannon's little friends was pretending to be a grandmother calling her granddaughter. Rhiannon had the role of the granddaughter. I mumbled under my breathe something like ". . . like her Grandma is home to call at night . . ." Rhiannon must have heard, cause she called out in trumpet like tones "My Grandma goes to the bar every Wednesday night!" The girls giggled, the mothers laughed heartily, and I raised my hand and said "That would be my mother." Cute kid. Time to go home and have a drink. (My homemade Irish cream goes great in coffee.)

Saturday, January 5, 2002

Tired, sick, and uninspired.

Sunday, January 6, 2002

I think we all are sick. We spent an entire day in our little 2 bedroom apartment (on purpose) and all survived. (It could even be argued we enjoyed it!) Well, we have all survived to this point anyway. I have my doubts about my son's continued survival, as he continues to raise Caine in his room at 9:50 at night. Hmmm . . . perhaps it is time to threaten . . . THE BELT. Generally, merely the threat is sufficient. Or the sound of it cracking against the palm. Only once, during unruly bedtime behavior in the days leading up to Christmas, did the belt actually actually make contact with the posterior of the demon-spawn. (They were jumping on their air mattresses rather than attempt to sleep after 11 at night.) We really need another bedroom.

I did, however, get to enjoy watching the Bears clinch the NFC Central title today. Unfortunately, the Rams wouldn't oblige us by losing so we could have home field advantage throughout, but hey, you can't have everything. With a record of 13-3, it is the Bears best finish since 1986, when Ditka was still coach. You can say one thing for the Bears, they are either really good or they suck. No in between.

Tonight I am struggling to understand the inner workings of my children's minds. Do they think we are stupid? Or just blinded by their good looks and charm? (Sorry kids, you ain't that cute and you need some work yet in the charisma department.) Today, one of the small fry (later revealed to be Monkey-Boy) had hung on the shower curtain and brought the rod down on one side. Now, rather than alert the parental units, said child sauntered out of the bathroom like nothing happened and apparently hoped that no one in the family would ever shower again. Regrettably, Jack had forgotten it was bath night. Rhiannon went into the bathroom to take her shower and discovered the damage, dragging her parents in to view the scene. When confronted with the fallen rod, both parties of course denied both knowledge and culpability. Since I knew I hadn't done it and it seemed quite unlikely that John had taken up hanging from shower rods (not to mention, the whole damn thing would have been down had he done it) and the cats don't have the height or opposable digits necessary to do the damage, the field was narrowed to 2 rather small, but stubborn children with a history of neglecting to take responsibility for their actions.

So, my children were banished to their room, in the dark, with no dinner, until one of them chose to tell the truth. In a remarkably short time, Jack decided that he "remembered" that he had done it. He received one swat for lying and was sent to his room for 3 minutes to contemplate his sins. When he came out and was asked if he knew why he was in trouble, his response was "I don't know." So, he was sent back into his room for 5 minutes to see if he could remember. (Gotta love that stubborn gene he got from his father.) Upon his second reprieve, he "remembered" that he was being punished for lying.

Unfortunately, his memory is lamentably short. Little more than an hour later, he was again caught in a lie. In order to receive dessert in this house (tonight a rather delectable German chocolate- chocolate chip pound cake found in the Cake Mix Doctor does Chocolate Cookbook) one must finish all their food. Or at the very least, their vegetables. Tonight, young sir decided he would empty his plate into the garbage and claim he had finished. Sadly for him, the trash had just been taken out, so it was a simple matter look in the trash can and find his carrots. (Jack has yet to develop much ability in the area of stealth and seems to rely on the opinion held by most children that their parents are both deaf and incredibly STUPID. Regrettably for Jack, his parents are neither.) Since this was the second lie he had been caught in in less than 2 hours, he was banished to bed for the evening. Where he proceeded to stomp and scream and generally piss, moan, whine, and wail that he didn't want to go to bed. Well, duh. That's why it's called P U N I S H M E N T.

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Copyright © 2001 Ann Dominik. All rights reserved. Complaints about the technical details of this page can be directed to the abused geek who takes care of it for me, and is grossly underpaid for what he does, he thinks. No reproduction without written permission. The opinions and content of this site are my own, and not the responsibility of this site's host, my employer, my pets, my parents or anyone else you may care to blame. Please respect my opinions and I will do the same for you. I may on occasion publish e-mail to me; if you do not wish your mail to be published, please write CONFIDENTIAL or DO NOT PUBLISH at the top of the e-mail. If you would prefer to remain anonymous, please note that as well. If you're incapable of reasoned civilized discourse but feel compelled to correspond with me, I'll be happy to filter your mail out after a few choice comments regarding your ancestors, upbringing, and the likelihood of your family tree not