Thoughts While "Working" From Home

So today's adventure of working from home began with me getting kicked off of the internet. I had Kitty resetting the router, and me signing out and trying to log back in like a maniac. As I was doing all of this and trying not to lose my work, here are some random thoughts that went through my mind:

• What happened to all of my socks? My feet are freezing and I have no socks. I know my daughters took them because they were nice socks and they refuse to buy their own!
• Why did Freihofer's stop making cupcakes? The ones from Entenmann's have frosting that doesn't even cover the cupcake and it's hard, like a Hostess cupcake frosting. What's up with that?
• Where are all of my hoodies? I'm freezing! I bet Brie took them. She says wearing my clothes makes her feel closer to me. Lies!
• How can I get my iTunes songs onto my non-Apple tablet? I bet Ben my tech guy would know.
• This stay home stuff means I can't get my computer and tablet to Ben.
• Why does Ben grow a beard that makes him look like Abraham Lincoln? So not sexy.
• Intelligence is sexy, and so is a sense of humor. Ben has both.
• Why am I thinking so much about Ben???
• Why do I sit here freezing when I could just walk across the room and turn up the heat?
• Why is Marie asking me why am I home???
• Why am I home? If everyone else is not on campus: can't I just be there?

As these thoughts are going through my head, my boss texts me and lets me know it's a work internet issue, not our personal internet. So reboots and agita for nothing!

The problem was finally fixed and I was able to get some work done, and get out of my head. But my last random thought was: is Ben working from home too???

Non-Essential

     Today was my first full day of working from home as a non-essential employee. That moniker is rather humbling, wouldn't you say?  I am really praying that this pandemic ends sooner rather than later because otherwise I can't be held accountable for my actions.

     It wouldn't be that bad except for the cast of characters I have here. Thinking that they are going to leave me alone while I work for 7.5 hours is one step beyond wishful thinking. There are two little dogs that are like toddlers and a Maine Coon cat that is like a sulky teenager. And they all want to be around me. Or on me. Or talking to me: voicing their little animal commands. "I want nummy! I want treaties! I want the water bowl full, not halfway!" (that would be Victoria, the sulky teen). Then the dogs pull out their little bag of tricks trying to be cute: walking to me on their hind legs or sitting up like prairie dogs. It's adorable but not when you have to work. If I pick one up the other one is scratching at my leg. If I pick them both up: I can't type around them. If I put them on the couch with a blanket they jump down and follow me. If I tell them to go get in their bed with the comforter they will: but then stare balefully at me until I give them a "treatie". It's a lose-lose for me.

     And then there's Marie...who I specifically told that I wasn't to be disturbed from 8 am - 4 pm because those were my work hours with a half hour break at 1 pm.  If you think this happened: HAHAHAHAHAHA! You don't know Marie.

     I can't really be mad at her though. She's 89, has a bit of dementia and a slow brain bleed so her short-term memory is sketchy at best. This makes her ask the same questions rather frequently and I have learned to just answer them no matter how many times. That wasn't too invasive. But then she kept asking, "How's it going? Are you still working? Why are you home? What are you drinking?" If only I could have answered "Watermelon sangria!" But I digress. And then, "I'm cold. I need another blanket. My back is cold. Can you open the shade? Can you close the shade? What does the dog want?" I think you get the idea.

     The computer program go to my PC didn't seem to really want me to go there. I know it was operator error but still: how many times was I going to have to reconnect it? How many times was it going to play hide and seek with my websites? How many times was it going to do the "electric slide" across the screen? So today wasn't my most productive day. Especially when I'm used to two big monitors, not just my laptop screen. Oy vey!

I hope it gets easier as time goes on. I also hope too much time doesn't pass before I'm back in the office where I belong. This COVID-19 seems to be planning on an extended stay in the U.S. Let's pray that it's "vacation" here gets cancelled soon: like the vacations of all of my friends.

Don't Believe the Hype Part 2

I really enjoy these trips down memory lane: whether they are at my expense or anyone else's! I hope you enjoy this one too!

Many years ago, I took Her Majesty to Fright Fest in October.  Not because I like rides or being frightened.  But she really wanted to go, so I agreed.  We got some friends to go with us; and since one of them was pregnant I got to baby-sit her since she couldn’t go on any of the rides.

Eventually we got to Ghost Town where the Cyclone was.  Most in our group wanted to go on it, so Brindel and I sat on a bench.  There were weird noises coming from the building we were leaning against.  Looking around the corner; we saw a line of people.  A sign read “Zambora!”  “What’s that?” we wondered.  Another friend came up and read from the program: “Zambora: watch a woman transform herself into a gorilla!” 

Who wouldn’t want to see that?  We eagerly lined up!   

Finally we were at the door, getting the spiel: “What you are about to see is very frightening.  If you have any heart conditions, fainting problems, then turn back.  Once the door closes, there is no escape until the show is over.”   Now I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see Zambora or not, but it was too late…

Stepping into a jungle-decorated area: drums were beating, lights were pulsing.  In front was a cage cut into a wall, surrounded by a rope barricade.  We were joking around, but I thought:  what if the cage in front is to lull you into a false sense of security, and Zambora rushes us from behind? 

            Announcer:  “What you are about to see will truly astound you!  While visiting deep, dark Africa, scientists made an amazing discovery: a woman who could transform herself into a gorilla!”  The lights went on in the cage revealing a loincloth-wearing woman chained to the wall, pounding the walls and moaning as she thrashed from side to side.

 “The cage bars are reinforced tungsten steel; hopefully enough to thwart an escape.”  I looked around:  all that bare space behind us, plenty of room for Zambora to grab us because what if it’s an illusion in the cage, and the real Zambora is ready to strike?

“Science can’t explain it, we can’t contain it. Keep your eyes on the cage!”

I was completely sucked in.  Drums are pounding, the woman is screaming, lights are flashing:  I clutch Kitty with one hand and my friend Mel with the other, my eyes swiveling from the cage to the space behind us.  Cage, space, cage, space… Finally there’s a bloodcurdling scream!  I jump out of my skin and we’re plunged into darkness—

Unfortunately, not before we saw the man in the gorilla costume open a door in the cage, peeking out.  Can you believe it?  I was TOTALLY freaked out and they RUINED it by that guy’s lousy timing!  When the lights came back up and we saw him banging around in the cage, it was just a minimum wage employee making a buck.  Seriously: that was going to be the last time I got caught up in the hype!!

~*~

A Little Jumpy

Kitty has always been a curious child.  Anything that had to do with animals, bugs, or science in general: she was all over it.  When she was in pre-K I remember going to pick her up, and she was trying to sneak a centipede home in her pocket. Eww!

She never had a fear of critters.  Unfortunately, her sister and I didn’t share this same mindset.  Kai was always bringing something into the house and scaring her sister with it.  She had no qualms about picking bugs or even worms up and examining them to learn about them.  Brie and I were exposed to way more than we wanted to be!

One evening Kitty and I went to visit some friends.  During the course of a conversation, I discovered that she had a snake in the house!  In a cupboard, in an empty Fruit by the Foot by box: she planned to take it to school the next day to show her teacher.  Needless to say, I told her that as soon as we got home she was to put the snake outside.  And all the way home I was praying that Brie wouldn’t get the urge for a fruit snack!

When we went to the beach she’d root around for salamanders, and if she was lucky enough to find one she’d make a beeline for me to show it to me.  She’d always want me to hold it but I’m just not a lizard person either.  I would admire it and then tell her to release it so it could rejoin its family.

It wasn’t just her sister and mother Kitty terrorized.  I mean, shared her nature time with.  Other family members weren’t exactly immune either.  At my parents’ house, my Marie had some ice melt that she kept in a big bag; and for some reason Kitty was fascinated with the stuff.  So whenever we’d go over there, she’d grab a handful of it and play with it.  Marie was always telling her, “Kitty, you leave that stuff alone!”  But of course this usually fell on deaf ears.

I had dropped the kids off one afternoon and went back to pick them up.  Marie and I were in the kitchen when we noticed Kitty trying to skulk by with her hand behind her back.  “Kitty, do you have ice melt in your hand?”  “No Grandma, it’s not ice melt.”  “I have told you to leave that alone!  Open your hand.”  “But I don’t have ice melt in my hand.”  “Kitty, open your hand right now and give it to Granny!”

Being the “obedient” grandchild she was, Kitty dutifully opened her hand, and a bunch of live grasshoppers jumped out on Marie, and she screamed like a madwoman!  Hijinks immediately ensued, and I laughed out loud.  “See Grandma?” Kitty began innocently, “I told you I didn’t have any ice melt.”

“Rita, you can take your kids home now!” Ha!

~*~

Favorite Aunt

When my children were young, they thought my sister was the best babysitter in the world.  I have to agree, because Robin was certainly the “fun aunt”.  She was good-natured; let them stay up late, played “G.L.O.W.” Wrestling with them, and generally went through a second childhood with them. 

She also had a great job that paid really well, and since she had no kids of her own, who were the recipients of her largesse?  That’s right: Brie and Kitty!  Any bigger ticket items that single mom Rita couldn’t afford, Aunt Robin was right there to supply it.  Granted, she didn’t buy any big-ticket items for Rita, but my daughters didn’t lack for anything.

However, she did have a couple of habits I didn’t care for.  One was her addiction to MTV.  This was the very early nineties: when they still actually showed music videos and had music shows like Headbanger’s Ball.  The problem with MTV was that even then, some of the videos weren’t geared towards children.  So I asked her to not watch it when the kids were around, and she agreed.

Now you know that no one can call you out like a child.  In all their innocence they don’t know that they’re telling something that you don’t want to be told.  When Brie mentioned Dangerous Toys, I thought she was talking about something on the Kay-Bee hazard list.  Then I over heard her on the phone mentioning this cute guy she’d seen in the video, and I knew Robin wasn’t respecting my wishes.  Which might not have been all that bad, until I actually saw the Dangerous Toys video and the guy was grabbing his crotch (way before Michael Jackson)!  Robin heard it from me that day!

I wanted her to watch her language too, because she could be a bit saucy, that sister of mine.  She swore (no pun intended!) up and down that she never used bad language around the girls, and I believed her.  After all, she loved my daughters like they were her own, and there were days when I wished they were!

One Spring Saturday I went shopping to pick up some groceries, and Robin was baby-sitting, as usual, much to the delight of Brie and Kitty.  I had told them if they were good I’d buy a treat for them and Aunt Robin.

When I returned I asked them if they’d behaved themselves and of course they said yes.  So I took out a package of Freihofer’s cupcakes, everyone’s favorites, and started to hand them out.  One for Brie, one for Kitty, and I was going to give one to Robin when Brie said, “Oh look, there’s an ant on the floor.”  At this, little four-year-old Kitty put her hands on her hips and said, “Damn fucking ants!”

I almost dropped the cupcakes.  “Where did you hear that?” I gasped.  Each daughter pointed a finger at Aunt Robin.  Needless to say, she did not get a cupcake!

~*~

Greedy Is As Greedy Does

Both of my daughters have royally annoyed me today. They are acting like the ages they were in this post. So I'm posting something from the past, when they were little and adorable (not like today). The humor is at my expense, but I need that today!

As a mother, I have no qualms about saying my kids, at times, showed signs of pure greediness.  I’m not sure where they got that trait from…it couldn’t have been from me!  Okay, you be the judge:

I was in the supermarket and noticed something new in the freezer section: Pepperidge Farm Mississippi Mud Pies.  Everyone knows how sumptuous Pepperidge Farm products are, so I figured how could you go wrong with a chocolate cookie crust, dark chocolate mousse, and cookie bits and more chocolate?  I bought a box of three to try.

They were just as wonderful as they looked on the box!  The kids asked if they could try one and I said, “No!  These are a special treat for mom so only I will eat them!  You guys can have the generic Popsicles.”  Disappointed, they trudged off: their little 10-and-6-year-old hearts broken.

I’d like to say that I relented and let them try the Mud Pies, but I didn’t. I went back to the store and bought more for me!

One afternoon I was watching TV and enjoying a Mud Pie.  It was so good I told Brie to get me another one.  “You’re going to eat two in a row?” she asked.  "Isn't that being greedy?" “Yes  but because they are delicious and mom deserves them, I'm having one more.”  She got me another one.  After inhaling that one too, I got sleepy.  “Mom’s going to take a nap.  Keep an eye on your sister,” I instructed Brie as I lay down on the couch.

I don’t know how long I slept, but when I woke up I was having a distinct issue.  It was the taste in my mouth!  Don’t ask how I know this, but my mouth tasted like – as Kai would have said back then – poopie!  Yikes!  What had happened while I was sleeping?

“Brie!” I called, smacking my lips with a look of distaste on my face.  “What is it mommy?  Why do you look so weird?”  “I have this horrible taste in my mouth.  It tastes like poop!”

At this, Brie burst into a fit of giggles.  “It’s probably from all of that dark chocolate you ate in the Mud Pies!”

That wasn’t the worst of it.  My stomach started gurgling and I had to make a beeline for the bathroom!  So not only did my mouth taste like poop, but I had to go poop!

By the time my intestinal distress was over, Brie had told her sister what happened and little Kitty was laughing too.  Then, to add insult to injury, they made up a song about it!  If I remember correctly, it went a little something like this:

‘Mississippi mud pie, mud pie, Mom wouldn’t let her kids try, kids try,

So now she’s running on back, yes running on back

To finish wiping her –‘ (you can fill in the blank with what rhymes with back)

Well, you get the drift.  Can we say disrespectful of their mother’s discomfort?  And can we also say that was the last time I ate a Mississippi Mud Pie?

~*~

My Rant For Today

I have been at my “new” job for almost 2 years. I work approximately 2 blocks from a Planned Parenthood. Almost every day, rain or shine, summer or winter, I see an older woman standing on the curb in front of the building holding a sign that reads “I regret my abortion”. Yesterday as I was driving home, she wasn’t there but two girls who looked like older teenagers were there instead. They were holding up a sign that read, “My body, my choice”.

Contrary to what you may be thinking: this post isn’t about abortion, pro-life or pro-choice.

But I digress.

A big story on the news for the past couple of months has been about this mother who hasn’t been able to produce her 7-year-old son or 17-year-old daughter since September. She said they were fine, but no one has seen them. When the heat got too hot, she and her new husband high-tailed it to Hawaii without telling anyone. But they were found, she was arrested and extradited back to Idaho to face the music. No one thinks those poor kids are still alive, especially since the woman’s ex-husband, brother, and the new husband’s ex-wife are dead.

My thought on this, like every time something happens to a child, is hey terrible parent: you might not want your child but there are thousands of adults who can’t have children that would have happily adopted yours. And loved them. And taken wonderful care of them. But you were too selfish or deranged or adrenaline-fueled to let your child live. It’s tough enough for children these days without the parents killing them. I’m sorry: allegedly killing them.

I wonder why, at this time in history, children seem to be so expendable. They get bullied and shamed into suicide. Parents up and move away: leaving the children to their own devices. Moms have done the mom thing, and the wife thing, and now they want to do their own thing. They abandon their child if they don’t live up to the parents’ standards, or go in a direction that contradicts the parents’ beliefs. They’ll abuse their child or let someone else do it. The child is an “inconvenience” to the parents’ “freedom”. Should have thought of that before you had kids.

The excuse that really makes my blood boil is when a parent gets into a new relationship and the new “love” doesn’t want the children. So instead of letting the other parent have the children: the children are killed and the parent lies about it. Seriously? WTF? And the name that immediately springs to mind is Susan Smith. She killed her two beautiful sons for a man, Tom Findlay, who didn’t want kids at all, much less her kids, instead of giving them to her ex-husband.

Take a look on social media on any day and you can find a story about some atrocity that was done to a child. Or watch Steve Wilkos. At the end of the day that child didn’t ask to be here: you brought that child here via birth. Again: there are thousands of adults who would love to be parents and would have been thrilled to raise that child for you.

This post wouldn’t be complete without me voicing a pet peeve of mine. It’s when parents leave a young child in their car seat in the car and then forget the child is in the car and leave them to die in the heat. How in the world do you forget your child is in the car? Do you never look in the rear-view mirror? Does the child not make any noise? Don’t you live with that child and see it every day? Isn’t putting the child in the car seat a regular practice with you? And then, when the parent remembers the child hours later, or someone happens to see the child in the car and it died, the parent is so broken up about it that it’s pitiful. Then everyone says that the parent shouldn’t be charged with criminal negligence or anything, because the loss of the child is horrific enough and the parent gets off.

BUT if you leave a dog in the car in the heat, you’ll get arrested if anything happens to it. So does that mean the dog’s life is worth more than the baby’s life? Again: children are expendable.

Okay: rant over. I knew my share of “expendables” when my daughters were growing up. Thankfully, I took most of them in and what a difference it made, no matter how long or how short a time they were with us. I’m so glad I was able to help them feel like they were worthy to be loved, and that they had someone who believed in them. Even to this day.

The Flu is No Joke

The Sunday of Martin Luther King Jr weekend, I was the unfortunate recipient of a bout of the stomach flu. This was no joke. I was fine, and then a couple of hours later after eating one of my favorite meals my stomach felt weird. Naturally, I attributed it to the food but my daughters were fine. And then it hit: literally and figuratively.

In the grand scheme of things, it was a relatively mild case: 1^st round was the projectile vomiting; the 2^nd round a couple of hours later was just vomiting; but the 3^rd round at 5 in the morning literally brought me to the floor. There was no time to get to the bathroom, I took almost everything off of the coffee table trying to prevent myself from falling, and then the puking commenced even though by that time nothing was left in my system but water and ginger ale. Brie woke up (we were sleeping on the 2 sofas in the living room) when she heard the ruckus and asked, “What are you doing on the floor?” “Puking!” I managed to respond. “Gross!” She was kind enough to toss me a towel and then went back to sleep. Thanks for the support. I had absolutely no strength to do anything other than crawl back to my couch and pull myself up onto it after I put the towel over the wetness on the floor. When Kitty got up and came downstairs she saw the towel and contents of the coffee table on the floor. She asked what had happened. I told her, and superstar that she is: she cleaned up everything and got me some tea. I just love her!

And then the body aches from the retching settled in. It felt like someone had used me like a punching bag. My neck, back, stomach and ribs hurt so much: it was shocking. The body aches lasted until Thursday, and I was able to go back to work that Friday. Seriously, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Thankfully my daughters didn’t catch it. And I had gotten a flu shot; but of course that doesn’t handle every strain. Ugh.

So while I spent the next few days prone on the couch, it reminded me of 2008 when I also got the flu (without the happy go pukies). Brie and I were driving home from work when I started feeling crappy. I actually had to pull over on the Northway so she could finish driving home. We briefly had to stop at Stewart’s and by this time I was cold and shaking. We got home and Brie had to help me out of the car because I could barely walk. Kitty saw Brie helping me and immediately came outside. “What did you do to mom? Was there an accident? Why were you driving?” Brie answered, “I didn’t do anything to her! She doesn’t feel well.” Kitty gave her sister a dirty look and took my arm. “I’ll take care of you mom.” My teeth were chattering but I said, “Thank you honey, I just need to lie down.”

By the time I got to my room my teeth were chattering so hard I couldn’t talk. I was absolutely freezing and had never been so cold in my life. When I got into bed I kept on my shoes, socks, pants, shirt, long coat, hood and gloves. I had 2 comforters, a sheet and a blanket on and was still freezing. When Brie lifted a tiny corner of my covers to ask me something and a tiny wisp of air infiltrated my fortress, it set off more shaking and I started to cry because it was so cold! Let’s not even talk about when I had to use the bathroom: cold porcelain when you’re already feeling like you can’t shake anymore. But you can!

It finally occurred to me that I had a fever and my body was trying to “shake” it off: literally and figuratively. The girls fed me Tylenol and worried. They even called Schmoop-Dog to take me to the hospital but he said, “If she has the flu I don’t want to get it. I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Just another reason why we never got married! The worrisome thing was my normal body temperature is 96.8. So if I have a fever of 102, that’s like 104 for anyone else (at least that’s what I figure with my imaginary medical degree) so it was no wonder I was having such a hard time.

Thankfully, with the ministrations of my daughters, I felt better after a couple of days. And luckily they didn’t get it. Again, I felt like I had been kicked by a mule, but that’s part of the territory. However, it took a long time to get over Schmoop’s abandonment in my time of medical need! And although my daughters were worried about me: they were thrilled that they got to turn the heat up as high as they wanted, supposedly for me but we know it was for them. Selfish: but I love them anyway!