holding down the sand castle: Give this Day -- and this Mother -- an "F"

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Give this Day -- and this Mother -- an "F"

Once in a while it becomes especially evident that "something's gotta give"...yesterday (Monday) was just such a day.

By 7 a.m., I had concluded that Jack could not attend school because he had a doctor's appointment scheduled for 3 p.m. Just plain unable to figure out a time that I could drive to University City (Golden Triangle locale in S.D.) among my other commitments to retrieve him AND make the appointment on time.

By 7:05 a.m., Jack was already irritating me to no end and I was ruing the aforementioned (POOR) decision). A little too much celebrating the idea of Playing Hooky and a lot too much yapping.

Around 8:04 a.m., Jack, Charlie and I arrived at Charlie's OT appointment (which was slated for 8 a.m.). Charlie and I waited 7 minutes for the OT to take him, leaving me about 35 minutes to drive from Kearny Mesa to University City in rush-hour traffic and back.

By 8:31 a.m., I was in the middle school office to turn in one (1) pristine C.S. Lewis Literary magazine for 15-extra-credit points that I'd darn well earned!!! and
four (4) huge textbooks. Naturally, the secretary wanted me to take them to the IMC but she didn't know my time constraints and the evil traffic I still had to battle. I pointed at my tummy and announced, "I got them this far...what happens next is up to you people." Yes, I did. She then tried to suggest that my son was bad n' wrong n' lazy n' disorganized if he didn't turn them in himself. I countered that he weighed less than these books and his backpack and that I would be a bad mother if I'd allowed him to tote them hisownself. Not knowing how to respond to a mom using the "I'd be a bad mother if" card, she looked taken aback and I took that as an invitation to say "thank you, ma'am" and beat a hasty retreat.

At 8:47 a.m., Jack and I were back at OT. I'm leaving out a plethora of expletives that help me navigate around stupid and slow drivers. The transfer of Charlie from one therapist to another (IN THE VERY SAME OFFICE, YET REQUIRING A MOTHER'S TOUCH) occurred soonafter.

Sent Charlie with the Speech Therapist after he pulled the "Hey, wet's hide! Hey, wet's hide! Go to potty!" ploy in which he requests potty to avoid the next assignment. (Punish me, please, by successful toileting?)

Jack and I dash to Target Boutique for very boring t.p., diapers, shampoo, dryer sheets. Of course, Jack runs the cart hither and yon with a running dialogue about the virtues of moms who buy Gatorade for their children. Like herding a very verbal, narrating cat.

Zip back to Speech, grab Charlie and race home for his next therapy. Drama, including another rendition of "Get out of bis house...get out of bis house." Very hard to take him seriously with this kind of articulation error.

Spend the next hour berating Jack for his inability to follow simple 2-step directions. (For any moms/dads of wee folk, this is a 3-y-o skill..."go here and do this"). Jack is almost 12. He finishes his report on Nero. Finally, the Target purchases are unloaded/put away, Jack's Giants bb uniform is donned, and Nero is printed out.

Meanwhile, I contact Sitter A for the evening (to arrive at 4 p.m.) to see whether she might be able to arrive at 3:30 and am told that she's still sick and not coming at all. First thought: Crap! Second thought: When was she planning to cancel? (As it was almost 1 p.m. already). Third thought: Let's call Sitter B and at least see if I can extend her on the back-end.

Sooo, I contact Sitter B and learn that she's "pretty sure" she'll be late (supposed to arrive at 5 p.m.) because of the traffic associated with the US Open Golf tournament and not keen on staying after 7 p.m. (even though she has to stay at least 2-hours per her agency agreement) since she has finals this week. Feeling a bit like this whole depending on 19, 20, and 21 year-olds is not all that and a bag of chips.

Type Jamie a very-detailed set of instructions for conduct becoming to a boy left to get himself ready for baseball after school and put it on a magnet on the metal backdoor, facing outward approximately 3-1/2 feet from the ground -- adjudging it to be eye-level to the boy. Lots of Thou Shalt Nots. Actually, because it was truly a genius piece of task analysis, here it is:

Dear Jamie (ed. note: feeble attempt at affection as the rest is pretty dictatorial),

1. Eat a small snack (yogurt, a cheese stick, or a banana).
2. Put away your folded clothes that are on the couch.
3. Bring up the recycling bins if they are empty.
4. Put on your uniform, including cup, undershirt, uniform jersey, pants, socks, cleats, ballcap.
5. Get a sweatshirt and put into your ball-bag along with glove, bat.
6. Capt. [Patty Kiki's husband] will be here by 3:45 p.m. to get you and meet Tim's bus and drive to the field. Be ready to go!!!
* YOU MAY NOT PLAY ON MY COMPUTER.
* BEFORE 3:30 PM, YOU MAY NOT BE IN THE FRONT YARD.
* YOU MAY, once you have items 1 through 5 done, WATCH ESPN or READ until 3:30 p.m.
* At 3:30 p.m., you may shoot baskets. If the bus comes early, tell the driver that the neighbor is on his way and please wait or ask him/her to call my cell. (ed. note "...Rather than act clueless and have the driver leave with Tim on the bus.")

Here was Jamie's reply:

"Dear Mom,
I read a book that I got from Auction I did not play computer.
(smiley face) James"

At 1:05 p.m., Jack, Charlie and I depart the premises. Destination: Charlie's Preschool Language Group. Drop him off. Drive thru for lunch. Realize that I don't have the parking placard for "XO" parking at the naval hospital. Drive back home at $4.35/gallon. Drive back in time to grab Charlie at 1:55 p.m. Drive to St. Mark's. Drop Charlie at 2:15 p.m. and drive to the Hospital for the much-anticipated doctor appointment.
Marvel at Jack's poor eye contact. Accept my scolding for not being a better mother (with regard to forcing my son to take medicine each/every day). Leave the hospital at 3:41 p.m.

Then play RACE THE BUS HOME! Realize midway along the drive home that I'd neglected to contact Tim's school to prepare him for a change of bus meeting person and fearing that Captain __ signed up to defend our country but not necessarily deal with a Tim tantrum, I zip home in time to meet the bus going down our street. I pull up, breathless and semi-triumphant to be met with Tim just-getting-going. Trade the Captain one Jack for one Tim (so not a good trade for me), get Tim a snack, and pack him back into the vehicle to go fetch Charlie.

After repetitive clock-watching whereupon we establish each minute of recorded time between home and St. Mark's as well as chart the coming future in its minutiae, we retrieve Charlie (early, because the time-announcing is even more boring to live than read about) and set off for Mickey-D's.

Then home again to feed the 2 boys and await Sitter B, who *JOY* arrives pretty close to on time. Alas, Joy didn't stay long. Between Tim's demands and Charlie's spastic running-about, I thought I'd try to mix up Tim's medicine and get that out of the way before leaving for the Jack vs. Jamie baseball game (already underway) when SCHWACK, the sound of the undeniable flesh-on-brick followed immediately by Charlie's wail. I drop the medicated pudding and run to the livingroom, where Charlie's mouth, chin and hands are bloody.

Fast-forward 47 minutes to when I finally have the bleeding to a minimal ooze, if we skip the high-drama frustration tears of a mom that's teetered on the precipice of being a bad-mom all day and who is now missing not just an inning or two of but a full half-game or more AND has a fat-lipped, gashed-gum child AND a pretty horrified-looking babysitter.

6:07 p.m. I arrive at the ballfield in time to see Jack advance (Base-on-Balls) to first, where Jamie is playing. Almost felt like God may have had some mercy on my sorry soul. Since I'm persona non grata for both teams (since I root for the opposing team, too), I go sit at a picnic table near the bleachers alone.

Nothing exceptional from either child last night. Jamie was solid defensively but 1/3 batting. Jack was having a rough time, having been called a name before the game by a couple of teammates and unable to let it go. Saw him hit into a double-play as his final act of the season, as his team lost by one run to Jamie's.

Pack the kids up, drive home again, and relieve the sitter by 7:26 p.m.
Another day in the books. One day fewer before Mr. Provider becomes Mr. Co-Chauffeur again.

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Welcome, Newcomers.

The "Sand Gloss" glossary below identifies the cast of characters and may assist in following the antics described herein.

This blog initially began as a "Deployment Journal" -- a way to keep our far-flung family and friends updated about our brood and as a companion to my hubby's own deployment mass-communication.

It has since evolved into more photographic journalism with the birth of Lucy. The "castle" is best understood in chronological order.

"Followers" are most encouraged. (That means you, Patty Grace/Kiki/Triplets!) All, please feel free to contribute; I welcome comments as they are usually wittier and more urbane than my posts.

Sand "Gloss"

Gloss = slang for glossary. I am providing this handy-dandy decoder for those of you who have indicated a need to be educated. I will add to this gloss as questions are forwarded or as new gloss is manufactured.

APC = Aunt Patty Cake. The Queen's younger sister. Technically, we should probably refer to her as "Princess Patty Cake." Definitely in the running for AOTY (Aunt of the Year) nationwide. (For further background information, please see "Patty" entry below).

Ass power = Ass power can be defined as the most powerful form of inertia. It can help you survive a tough class, an ignorant person, or another "worst-case scenario". I suppose you could call it "perseverance" but that's so close to the word "perseverative" and, besides, it's just more fun to incorporate the word "ass" into everyday speech.

"Audacity of Awesomeness" = The title of Sand Crab's fictional work of non-fiction, as coined by Pat Eric. Suggested as an entree to meeting visiting dignitaries (i.e., Senator Obama). Specific usage, "Have you read MY book, The Audacity of Awesomeness?" Meant to suggest that Sand Crab is not only possessing of awesomeness but also that he has audacious amounts of this quality.

A-word = Autism spectrum disorders, any and all, including Pervasive Developmental Disorder, PDD/NOS (not otherwise specified), Autism, Asperger Syndrome, and anything else the DSM creates to describe difficulty with social relatedness, language and acquisition of adaptive skills. Hate the game, not the player.

Big-Boy Briefs = Male equivalent of "Big-Girl Panties" (below).

Big-Girl Panties = Being an adult. Summoning one's at-risk maturity to do something unpleasant, to brave adversity, or even to speak to someone who potentially ruined a career of someone near-and-dear. No actual costume change required as fictional undergarments are implied.

BFF = Best Friends Forever. Clearly, there is sarcasm intended when I suggest that NSA (National Security Agency) analysts, who I am certain listen in on some of the Combat Crab-to-Crab Queen rants, er, calls, are my BFFs.

Big Sled Dog = Eldest crablet.

Cake = Besides being APC's surname (and wouldn't THAT be enough of an honor), in the Crab Queen's opinion, this is Nature's Most Nearly Perfect Food. Hence, worthy (and disasterous) cakes are occasionally inserted in this blog to remind readers of the benefits of a high-frosting diet and the art form that a good cake can offer.

Cake-eyes = Wide-eyed, wildly-euphoric expression. Positively correlated to the presence of a store-bought cake. Believed to be a dominant gene passed along the maternal family line.

Cake vultures = Plural. Persons who happen upon a tasty, frosted baked good and suddenly transform into a well-behaved, eager potential cake-eater. Alas, this behavior often expires with the disappearance of the serving of cake.

Chore = Expected task that crablets will perform in exchange for food, shelter, clothing, transportation, education, extracurricular activities, healthcare, and occasionally candy or sugar-based sodas. Further reinforcement in the article of electronic entertainment, unusual reward, or financial compensation is excluded.

Combat Crab = A nifty reference for Ben. It avoids the need to attribute rank; however, he will cease to be called "Combat Crab" when he turns in his "Battle-Rattle."

Commander Crab = Navy rank equivalent to Lieutenant Colonel Crab. With the trading in of a thin stripe for a thicker one (and coloration change of collar insignia) effective 9/8/08, Pa Crab is no longer Major or Lieutenant Commander Crab. Basically, here in the Castle, we like to have as many possible pseudonyms in play at any one time as possible.

Countdown = See also "Splashdown". Definition #1: To look forward with gleeful anticipation to reunification of Familia Crab. Definition #2: To realistically plan for homecoming by gently, systematically reminding Returning Crab of CQ's fiscally-liberal spending habits and crabby nature; Big Sled Dog's disinclination to Respect the Drywall; J Crab, Sr.'s sheer flakiness; J Crab, Jr's propensity for All Behaviors Surly; Charlie's skills in age-equivalencies; and LLGA's distrust of all adult males.

Crabiot = A crablet acting like an idiot. And by idiot, I mean acting like he's neither met a behavior plan nor remembered the reinforcer (e.g., Wii) he'll be forfeiting.

Crablet = Offspring of Sand Crab & the Missus. Often used in the plural because, as Sand Crab often notes, QUANTITY has a QUALITY all its own!

Crab Queen = Mrs. Crab (me).

The 'Der = (Der) Weinerschnitzel. A fast-food establishment that serves cheap n' cheerful hot-dog-centric fare. The staff of no fewer than TWO locations know me by my order (chili fries with NO CHEESE and a medium Pepsi), which LLGA apparently considers in utero soulfood.

Dumb-ass Doughnuts = Not just for breakfast anymore, these baked goodies are a close culinary cousin and frequent accompaniment to "Jack-ass Juice". Ingestion of said doughnuts grants ingestor the propensity to say dumb things and do dumb things. Example: Remove mandatory spectacles from bridge of nose whilst still under the visual surveillance of one's grandmother and resident "hall monitor!".

Fabuloso (TM) = 1. Trademark-protected, lavender-scented, cleaning product concentrate. 2. GMK's leading weapon in the War Against the "Kids' Bathroom Smells Like Urine", which overwhelms anyone with a functional olfactory system. (As in the "fabulous cleaning product" is WAY more intense than the lingering parfum of Eau des Enfants). 3. Prospective name for LLGA if Sand Crab doesn't rally since the trademark only applies to products for sale, not babies. 4. A basic catch-all reference, intended to imply a "fix" for whatever ails you -- commensurate with Windex (TM) from My Big Fat Greek Wedding in the hands of the father.

GMK = 1. Acronym for Grandma Mary Kay. 2. She Who Has Temporarily but For a Prolonged Period Forfeited a Lifestyle of Carefree Retirement to Slavishly Ply the Boys' Bathroom with Copious Amounts of "Fabuloso" Cleaner, Make Near-Daily Jaunts to Von's Grocery, and Ensure that Any Morsel of Uneaten Food is Lovingly Packaged in Foil or Baggies and Saved in the Back of the Refrigerator for Posterity. All This While Sleeping on a (High-Quality) Leather Sofa Since the Luxurious Raised Queen Aerobed Remains Unshipped By Amazon Despite Its Early July Order Date. 3. Woman Desperately Deserving of a Blog Pseudonym. (Nominations Being Accepted).

Great Pottery Barn Kids (TM) Stocking Debacle (heretofore known as, GPBKSD) = 1. Severe disappointment made worse by the anticipation of a UPS delivery. 2. A promise delivered only in portions...portions guaranteed to drive "Whole Sets Only" Crab Queen into conniptions. 3. Evidence that there's almost always a solution to be found ... just not necessarily able to be produced by someone at a 1-800 phone number. 4. A reason to cry in front of one's mother-in-law. YIKES.

IA = Individual Augmentee, or why Sand Crab is playing Army guy in the sandbox.

IEP = Individualized Educational Program. What the District promises to provide each special education student, under federal law (called the IDEA), will be provided in order for the student to receive a FAPE (free appropriate public education). Entails lots of paper, meetings, and heartburn.

Jack-Ass Juice = What crablets and their pals drink that incites acts of pure stupidity. Something other than genetics or poor child-rearing to explain inane behavior, opinion, or statement exuding from one's offspring. Credit to Patty Grace's Great-Uncle?

J-Crabs = The duo of Jack and Jamie.

LLGA = Lovely Little Girl A--------n. Kudos to Patty Lisa NYC for the acronym that is infinitely speedier to type than the alternative: "inbound and much-heralded female crablet currently still in utero." Kudos to Patty SW for the real down-low: The Little Baby with the Unpronounceable Name.

Major Crab = Yet another pseudonym for our hero, the Sand Crab. Not intended to suggest that he has transferred into the US Army, as he remains a Naval officer.

MOTY = Mother of the Year. A fictitious competition which awards prizes to mothers who, among other criteria:
pick spending time with their offspring on Mother's Day to running to the mall or spa;
enjoy cooking meals for their picky-eater offspring, kneading, mixing, cutting, and generally slaving away with love and good humor;
volunteer endless hours with teachers who do not call the maternal one a b-word in the teacher's lounge;
drive the vanpool and never-never use questionable language or indirect threats toward passengers under the age of majority;
iron their children's clothing for other than special occasions;
tie their children's shoelaces without commenting, "aren't you old enough to have figured this skill out by now?";
have dollar-bills at the ready awaiting last-minute lunch account emergencies, school library fines, and the ice cream truck music from the street outside;
never-ever miss a dose of medicine;
never-ever forget an appointment;
refrain from semi-apoplectic hollering when Sweet Offspring neglect to plan ahead for a massive school project;
have a supply of poster board, tri-fold display boards, glue sticks, markers, colored pencils, scallopped bulletin board edging, and an at-the-ready, brand-new color cartridge just aching to be used to print out internet images and articles;
at all times have healthful snacks available (whether at the park, in the car, in the lunchbox, or in the kitchen) and plentiful choices of same;
tend to their ill children with love and constant surveillance (rather than handing the child a stockpot and getting other things done);
read to their obedient offspring each night with patience and enjoyment;
limit their progeny to one TV show or DVD per week;
firmly but lovingly implement a consistent disciplinary program including taking away that single opportunity at the electronic babysitter (TV) when required;
and
never once has said, "You're lucky to have a house to live in with a family like us!"

Mouse-piss = GMK's husband's euphemism for the omnipresent-in-the-Castle 32-oz. bottles of Target-brand (TM) hand sanitizer.

Nguyen = Certifiably crazy parking troll; verbal altercation was topic of posting c. May 27th.

OOO = Out of Order. Meaning my blog posting. Occasionally, the behavior of the characters therein.

Pat ____ = Characters of the male persuasion that make more than one appearance in this blog and that I find easier to nickname than to describe. (Exceptions: Darrin, because to nickname him would dilute the power of his given name; Pate, because he's worn an Easter Bunny costume in the name of A------n children joy; and Patrick, because, Pat Pat just sounds wrong).

Patty ____ = Female characters that make somewhat routine appearances in this blog. See definition of Pat. (Example: Aunt Patty Cake, who is indeed an aunt to crablets).

PITA = Acronym for "Pain in the Arse". Probably should've been PITS (pain in the shell) but I wasn't clever enough. Besides, Pita rhymes with Rita!

Plague = Just what it sounds like. Any curse, infestation, illness, misfortune, significant inconvenience, malady, et cetera that afflicts the Family Crab courtesy of the lightning rod of bad luck affixed to our roof OR the cold, hard fact that Sand Crab's real name is Job.

POA = Power Of Attorney. That document that sets me apart from just a wife ... changing me into COMNAVWIFEPAC, a woman able to leap small buildings, tackle medium problems, and buy BIG ticket items (vans, houses, LAND).

Potato/Spud/Tuber = Reference to the World's Dumbest Sex Ed (oh, I mean "Family Life") Project in which Jack had to carry around a 'tater in a shoe box for weeks.

Roundinia = A mystical, magical land where one's social status is positively correlated to the apple-ness of one's cheeks. In short, a place where Lucy is the ruler of all she surveys and her bidding is done, spit-spot, in order to elicit a grin.

Sand = Except when used with "box" and "castle", a place-holding word for any one of numerous expletives. After all, this is a Family Blog. Usage includes: singular or plural noun, verb, adjective, and even adverb. Often used with hyphens to convey extra-gritty adventures.

Sandbox = Iraq or surrounding desert lands, unless reference to Charlie is made and then please assume that he is in a pile of sand right here in So-Cal.

Sand Castle = Our quarters here in military family housing or the place we call home.

Splashdown = Return/Reunion/Homecoming after protracted absence. Significant features include: * Non-deployed spouse will not have evolved into a supermodel, much to the disappointment of deployed spouse; * Exaggerated expectations of the loveliness of one's family members; * Myopic memories of the helpfulness of one's deployed spouse; * Suppressed recollection of how noisy, visually-chaotic and smelly the crablets are; * Development of an overly-ambitious "honey-do" List; * Overwhelming pile of deployment-smelling, all-one-color laundry that will need a home; *Realization that encroachment of closet space and drawers has occurred; * Outward conveyances of both frustration at the encroachment and reversal of encroachment; * Tendency for returning spouse to want to revisit financial decisions (or conduct a casual audit of statements) that can only End Badly; * Overeagerness on part of returning spouse to hook up a Big Orange Chute to the house and offload what has been packratted by non-deploying spouse; and *Reluctance on part of non-deploying spouse to part with packratted items. See also: Countdown.

Therapies = OT is Occupational Therapy; PT is Physical Therapy; SLP is Speech Therapy; ABA is Applied Behavior Analysis (good luck understanding that one); and DTT is Discrete Trial Training (ditto).

Therapists (not defined above) = AT is Assistive Technology; and APE is Adaptive Physical Education (or spec ed PE).

UNSAT = Navy-ese (or perhaps Military-ese) for the word "unsatisfactory." The word is not intended to be uttered, but spat from one's cake-hole. Since you cannot really spit a multi-syllabic word like "un-sat-is-fac-tor-y", it is "Un-SAT". Rhymes with "SPAT". Try it. You'll adopt it into your everyday lexicon in no time flat. (If on the receiving end, take a step back or face the incoming salvo of spittle).

"Virtual Jamie" = Akin to Jack's "mini-me" (aka, Spud), this character entered the Castle on 2/24/09. He is both a virtual buddy AND a potential weapon as he has a long wooden stick extending downward from his grape. But, as an improvement on the actual Jamie, our "Virtual Jamie" doesn't back-talk or scowl -- as a pert smile permanently graces his face. (Sadly, "Virtual Jamie" is not much at putting away laundry or picking up toys...and doesn't have much of a Little League future ahead of him). But he's cheap, cheerful and brings our offspring to an even half-dozen...so he stays until he splinters.

Wal-Mart (TM) Moment = Represents the most-public of "told-you-so" moments. Let's say that you get into a verbal banter with one's spouse or immediate family member. Let's say that the spouse or immediate family member has taken a position that is so ridiculous or patently false that it causes beyond normal levels of consternation and cannot be let go without providing hard, irrefutable evidence that, for lack of better description: "I'm right, s/he's wrong." So to provide indemnification for the slighted party (i.e., the one who was right and had to endure massive annoyance over the other party being STOOPID), the K------a family has arrived at a (as-yet theoretical) fix: The Wal-Mart (TM) Moment. Now for the "How-to" part of the definition...First, family piles into various vehicles with destination of Wal-Mart (TM)'s parking lot.
Second, family spreads out throughout lot to notify the loiterers and other lingering greater public that there is about to be a give-away of Copenhagen (or Skoal) chewing tobacco (and provides the coordinates of the proved-correct and proved-wrong parties). Third, once a reasonable crowd of chew-longing persons has assembled, the right party (again, theoretically) would have his/her hiney kissed by the wrong party. Fourth, as additional justice, everyone points at the wrong party and says the whole Copenhagen Stunt was his/her idea and they face an aggrieved throng of deprived nicotine-cravers. The issue of whether a winter-on-the-frozen-tundra Wal-Mart (TM) moment is equitable was decided that while the spectators are somewhat less enthusiastic and numerous, the wind chill factor compensates. In winter conditions, (again theoretically), the wrong party is required to drop trou and the right party remains bundled in umpteen layers.

Wii = Electronic gaming system, manufactured by Nintendo, with various games and accessories available. Retails at $350 or so, depending on where you can actually find it in stock. Essentially, the procurement of said item would be a J-Crabs' Dream-Come-True and, thus, will not. (Amended definition: Purchased for $250 by one S. Claus. The Dream-Came-True but is frequently in Time-Out).

Care Packages for Sand Crab?

Please note NEW address again (effective 10/2008):

CDR Ben A--------n
HQs, MNF-I CJ5
APO AE 09342

Did you know?

USPS offers a package of free packing materials, including 10 boxes, 10 customs forms with envelopes, 10 "Mili-Pac" shipping envelopes, which are specially printed to reflect the complexities of military mailing addresses, and a roll of Priority Mail tape.

To order the special kit, call (800) 610-8734 and request Care Kit 4. The Postal Service will ship it by Priority Mail, with delivery generally within a couple of days.

Although the packing materials are free, shippers must still pay normal postage costs.