A Day of Mixed Emotions

Today is the beginning of Suicide Prevention Week.  It's fitting, as it's also the birthday of someone we lost to suicide.  Every year gets easier, but that doesn't mean this young man is any less missed. While he took his own life, and I think of him whenever I hear of someone doing the same, he was SO much more than that one act. 

Denny's favorite character was Spider-Man, and that was later his nickname.  He could climb wall jambs all the way up to the top.  He had this funny little way of running where his legs would piston and rush, but his back would be ramrod straight.  His karate bag when I drove him to practice weighed almost more than he did, and watching him heft it in the car was funny.  He was caring and generous to my son the way pre-teens rarely are. He was surrounded by music his whole life, and he found his own ways to express himself through music appreciation and playing.  Art was another of his loves, and his drawings were everywhere in his home.  But in the end, he was still at the mercy of his inner demons, as so many young men and women are today. He had a host of people who interacted with him lovingly on a daily basis, which makes his choice so much more difficult for the rest of us to bear.  So many young people today don't have a support system, and that means they don't even have a sliver of a chance. 

I'll always think of him as Cubby's idol and wish he was still here. 

Happy Birthday, Denny.  We still miss you.  I hope you've found the peace you never had when you were with us. You deserve it.

Words You Don't Want to Hear

In walked Brownie after school yesterday.  She immediately said, "Mom, can I ask you a question?" These words are part of her minute by minute questioning, so I wasn't concerned yet.  She continued, "What would you say if I told you I had a staple in my foot?" Of course, my response was "DO you have a staple in your foot?" She said no and burst into tears, clear indication she HAD a staple in her foot, but she's a drama queen, ya know.

After much crying and general ballyhoo, she allowed her dad to look at her foot.  Yep, there was a staple.  She'd been walking around with it all day, because she's not fond of the nurse who works at the school now, and she didn't want to tell her teacher, because it's FOURTH grade now, and she didn't want to look like a baby.  Ugh.

According to Hubbster, he could pull it out, but what if a piece was still in there?  I agreed.  Know what I was supposed to be doing?  Going to work.  I nearly gleefully handed him the insurance card, told him the numbers to call, kissed my little dramatic petunia on the head and went (ran) to work.  Immediately after, I went to the open house for Brownie's school where I was recruiting for Girl Scouts, then met with Brownie's (long winded) teacher.  Then I drove at breakneck speed to my first sales meeting for my new direct sales venture.  All during this, I was getting texted updates, pictures of Brownie in a wheel chair, with her roll of stickers, as they picked up dinner at McDonald's because the clinic took so long.  I didn't miss any of the experience.

When I came home, Hubbster was all TIRED from waiting and bath and homework.  Hmm, maybe there is an advantage to him being out of work.  But that doesn't mean I wouldn't kick him out into that cold cruel world at the hint of a job offer.

So! It was a full day round here.  It was also almost exactly a year after Brownie had to have stitches in her other foot from stepping on glass.  I told her she needed to mix it up next year and injure an arm.  She was not amused.

This seems off

I'm sure everyone has seen the commercial for this product Rev by now. It features a young man awaking in the dead of night, committed to his sport, reaching into his parents' stainless steel fridge for a package marked "REV" in bold letters. He opens it, and inside is a fresh looking wrap with chicken or turkey, a little lettuce hanging out.  The boy eats it as inspirational narration plays, something about possibilities, even when others say it can't be done.

Now, I'm not an exerciser for the sake of exercising. I know I'm supposed to, but I just don't like it. Hiking around a lake to appreciate beauty, walking or bike riding as a mode of transportation, sure! But if you see me running, someone is chasing me.  So acknowledging this is not my foray, I take issue with this commercial. I'm under the impression, as a non-athlete, that a pre-made, in the refrigerated aisle for God knows how long, then toted home to lounge in the fridge for even longer CANNOT be a good thing for a working hard body. Wouldn't it be better to buy some deli meat, fresh tortillas and lettuce, take two extra minutes and have at least half the preservatives? Doesn't it seem like a message at odds to physically push one's body while filling it with crap?

Ah, advertising can make us believe anything is good.

Is Cubby going into the secret service?

You know the mountain of paperwork that gets sent home at the beginning of every school year?  The stack that has all the contact info for your family, and they ask if there are siblings, who has custody, and so forth?  I was looking in Cubby's stack for 7th grade.  I think they should have a question regarding how often my 7th grader loses his mind, but that's not mine to say.

A few of the questions, he'd already filled out, such as his name, his parents' names, his address, and his desired nickname.  Know what it was?  Chris.  His chosen nickname is Chris.  Problem is, his first name isn't even Christopher.  That's his MIDDLE name.  So he's essentially told a bunch of people who don't know him not to use the name his father and I gave him, but to call him a mini version of his middle name.

When teachers hand out this sheet, I'm sure they see it as a fun opportunity to get kids involved with telling about themselves.  MY son chose to use it as an opportunity to try out a new alias.  I wonder if he's done something heinous enough that we all need to enter the witness protection program.

And so the semester begins. . .

Yes, a new semester has begun!  The promise of work submitted on time, all those shining faces with new books and pens and iPads and phones they're texting on!  As it begins, I've already had a winner of an email to share.  While classes for the university began on Monday the 26th, one of my classes is a Friday evening only course, in their attempt to accommodate our large adult learner community.  But hey, I'm not ditching a full week just because class doesn't happen until Friday.  So I posted in our learning management system the syllabus, info about the book, and some of the few assignments, telling them which ones could be done early if they so chose. 

One of those was an email sent from their university email.  It's an easy peasy assignment, meant only to ascertain they can access their campus email--through with EVERYTHING is routed--right from the start. I received an email from one of the students.  I am paraphrasing and correcting spelling.  I'm not going to hold this person up for TOTAL ridicule, yet.

Hey Prof! 

Is this a distance learning class? Are we handing in stuff on Moodle and not meeting every week?  That would be great, because this is my last class on Friday. I hope we don't have homework on the weekends.

Ok, see you soon!

Name Withheld 

Yes, that's right, internoodles, this student doesn't even know if this is a brick and mortar, hybrid, or online course.  Plus, he is pretty much telling me he doesn't really want to come to class on Fridays, because it cramps his style AND he doesn't want to do homework on the weekends, because we're, what, NINE?!  Keep in mind, this is the first encounter of any kind I'm having with this student.  Oh, and this is an upper level business writing course.  Can you imagine if he sent something like this to his BOSS?!  Oy, vey!

I didn't point out the glaring issues I had with the writing, but in my head, my response went something like this--

Dear Mr. Withheld,

I'm totally psyched you don't want to come to class or do homework!  It frees up my schedule in a number of ways.  I am, however, totally bummed that I'll be seeing you again, and probably again and again in this class, because those who have crap attitudes are doomed to repeat.

Sincerely,

The Prof who plans for months for each class

Yeah, I come off all valley girl, but I'm not up on the slang, and what I am has more swearing than I'd like to use. It's gonna be a fun one!

My husband is weird

I think most wives know their husbands have weird little quirks.  Heck, at one time we thought they were ADORABLE, even. With mine out of work coming up on 11 months, well, I'm seeing way too much of him. WAY too much. Or maybe I'm just tired of the kids AND my husband being constantly around.  I need the Fall semester to begin so I can talk to some adults I'm not related or married to on a daily basis.

With Hubby home more, he's watching more TV, specifically sports, which, granted, he had a high tolerance for to begin with.  The side effect is I, who really can take or leave (mostly leave) anything but basketball, and even that requires a team I really want to watch, I never. want. to. see. another. sporting. event. as. long. as. I. live.  So I realize that my saying he's been "watching a lot of sports lately" carries little to no weight.  BUT! I find him watching odd things that he's usually not even into, like golf.  I can't remember the last time he picked up a club and went to a course--which is ok by me, that sport is wicked money just walking out the door--and played.  But he'll watch it "when nothing else is on" he says.  Or I could even understand a little beach volleyball with nubile cuties playing.  That serves a purpose I can get behind. 

But I've caught him recently on more than one occasion watching the World Series. . . of Little League.  That's right, Little League, as in children playing.  First, why is this sport even televised?  It's a KID'S game! Way to blow something out of proportion, crazy sports parents! Because you just KNOW this idea was spearheaded by some parents who were all, "but Muffin's NANA can't COME to the game, and it's such a big DEAL, and wouldn't it be GREAT if it were on TV?!" Second, why is anyone who is not a blood relation of the people playing interested? I can barely hold interest for my own kids' activities.  Now I should care about strangers?  Um, no.

So explain to me, people, why he's watching this drivel.  I don't get it.  Meanwhile, the "honey do" list keeps getting longer.

I'm tired!

I'm SO tired and jealous of all these great pics of their kids' first day of school.  Know why?  Mine are still HOME!  That's right, we don't start until Monday the 26th round here, and I have officially thrown in the towel.  I'm not cleaning anymore, because they're just standing behind me ready to make another mess.  I'm not cooking anymore, because everyone whines about what's for dinner and asks to "pick up" disgusting alternatives instead.  I won't even discuss the fights over computer, TV, IPad, Xbox, air they are breathing.

We've had our fun, including multiple weeks of camp, one in which they were BOTH gone, thank you, Jesus, but if you ask the kids, we've done nothing but keep them from awesome activities that would bankrupt a lottery winner they SWEAR their friends are doing.

While I've tried to get them back into the bedtime routine, they insist on living like frat boys.  All I can say is teachers, I'm sorry, but they will be BEASTLY the first week.  Good luck with that. I'm thinking of creating a fictional event that takes me away from home next week.  Shhh, don't tell my husband.

The dog has become my favorite mammal in the house.