The Crush

During the last year of elementary school most of the boys and all of the girls had crushes on one another. Some even went so far as labeling each other boyfriend and girlfriend. My darling son wasn't among them. Part of me worried, but another part of me wasn't concerned at all. I knew one day a girl would see what others had and at some point there will be more girls than any one boy should have. Even if there were only one girl he would be okay. JM has plenty of girl friends, three of his best and most loved are back home in CA.

But Texas is different and I've noticed that if the girls don't like you neither do the boys. Granted he told me about the crushes of all of his friends. Occasionally I asked him if like anyone. The answer was always no. Once I even asked if there was a boy he liked. That was met with a resounding 'eeeeewwww', but I had to ask.

This afternoon, my darling son waltzes in the door says he's grabbing lunch for him and a friend then they are going to the park. One his way out the door he drops the bomb. There are two girls he likes and has since the middle of last year, but they don't like him. Momentarily stunned, I mumbled 'Thanks for sharing, love you.' He stopped turned around and asked if I were going to tease him now. I assured him I wouldn't and I won't.

I'm pretty proud of how I handled myself. I was all nonchalant on the outside, but inside, I was doing the world's best Tigger impersonation and trying hard not to let my excitement for him show. But we'll keep that just between us, right?

Clean Up on Aisle 3!

Having a tween doesn't mean what I thought it did. I thought my son would, by now, clean his room by himself. It's simple really, all I ask is that his crap...excuse me, his very important, most treasured belongings, be put away where they belong. Much to my chagrin, I found myself in the position of upholding an edict this afternoon.

Apparently, even though I don't issue many, I need to be more careful about the ones I do issue. See, I have asked him for months to please clean up his room. It wasn't tragically messy, but crap was stuffed and piled in every nook and cranny, and I do mean every. I reminded him that if I had to come in and do it I would most likely remove his most beloved possessions without his consent. I thought I had my ace-in-the-hole when he decided that Jack and Daisy (his two 70 lb. dogs) would be sleeping in his room. Jack needed a new, larger crate. This crate would be identical to Daisy's crate. Each crate is 47L x 23W x 36H -- they are gargantuan. One takes up a huge chunk of floor space, two is just horrendous. We had the new crate and I was tasked with getting it Jack ready before Friday night. Completing my mission required reorganization of furniture and toy storage.

With trepidation I began the excavation of space. I hauled out everything...storage boxes from the closet, the bins of miscellaneous toys, all the games, more stuffed animals than any boy has ever had, and a cache of weaponry. Some I instantly set aside for donation, others I tossed (gasp!), and the rest got moved into another room. In case I wasn't certain that I actually have a boy, I would have figured it out today. I discovered rocks, twigs, bottle caps, paper clips, rubber bands, and pieces of heaven knows what. Oh, and a Zoo Pals pig paper plate with the eyes cut out - I think he was two when that was created. I tossed the pig face and put the rest of the rocks and junk in an empty shoebox I unearthed.

When I was done I closed the door and waited for the arrival of my darling child. Fully prepared to face his wrath with justification and stoicism, I was surprised when upon his arrival he was fairly bursting with excitement and asked me to cover his eyes and 'reveal' his new room. (Think he's seen one too many design makeover shows?) I did as he asked, he walked in and, well, here's the rest of the exchange...

JM: Awesome
Me: Think so?
JM: Yeah! Hey, wait...where's my...(frantically looking around room and into closet)...Mom, what you'd do with my? Where's my?...What's in the trash can? MOM! You threw out my pig mask? How could you?
Me: I told you if I had to do this I would clean it all out (said very gently).
JM: Yeah I know, I just wasn't expecting all of it to be gone.
Me: Monkey, what did you think "all" meant?
JM: Not everything. Where's my bottle cap? Where's my pebble from Big Bear?
Me: Big Bear? You were 3 the one time we went and you kept a pebble? Don't panic, everything hasn't left yet, you have 10 boxes in the other room and we will go through them tomorrow. You can pick 5 things from each box to keep. After that it's the toy box...
JM: YOU ARE NOT TOUCHING MY TOY BOX! How come only 5?
Me: Can I finish? We will clean it out. You don't get to keep all the toys, and stuffed animals. It's time to donate the older things.
JM: Okay, but where's my bottle cap?
Me: We'll deal with it tomorrow.
JM: Seriously Mom, my pig mask? Trash? My room looks great and Jack will love his crate, but I miss my stuff.

And so it boils down to a paper plate with holes in it. Did he look for his PSP? The 52 games for his GBA and DS? Was he even concerned about the GI Joes that he swears he can't live without? Nope. A paper plate, a pebble, and a bottle cap. Those are the only things he worried about. I can't wait for the argument that ensues when I firmly refuse to allow him to keep trash for another 12 years. And when he asks to please keep the lincoln logs that I swear he hasn't played with since he was 5, the answer is "Oh hell no!" I just hope I can keep him from out negotiating me. I can see myself offering the bottle cap in exchange for the lincoln logs and losing badly. And no edicts either, when this task is accomplished I'm looking for edicts anonymous. Can someone please just remind me?

Virtual Reality

I found a job! And I was hired!

The job market stinks so I accepted a job as a virtual assistant. Yes, I researched everything first and no, I wasn't required to give out banking information. I had no reason to suspect anything was amiss. I agreed to an exclusive signing with their agency in exchange for a signing bonus along with their standard equipment bonus. I signed the papers and had my check in hand on March 31st.

Yesterday I headed out to get the equipment I needed, but first I had to deposit the check. The check was drawn on B of A, where I also have an account, so I didn't think there would be any problems. The teller let me know that there would be no hold placed on the check and funds would be available immediately.

I left and headed off to shop! While shopping I got a call from the bank manager informing me 'the bank is unable to negotiate the check at this time', which didn't mean anything to me until she continued. The check is fraudulent. For a minute I thought it was an April Fool's joke. But no, the joke was on me. I was stunned momentarily and left the cart where it stood and walked outside. Took a breath and drove home.

I took a job as a virtual assistant. I just didn't know it came with a virtual paycheck. The contract requires that I provide notice and agree to an exit interview should I decide to terminate my association. I think I virtually resigned when the virtual paycheck was virtually gone. They can virtually sue me.

Scotty said only I could make $5000 and lose it in the same day. Yep, it could only happen to me and it virtually does.

Bailout Shmailout

Everyone is talking about bailouts. Some folks agree with them, some don't. And everyone seems to want their piece of the bailout pie. For the most part I don't think the government should keep handing out money to anyone who has screwed up as royally as the banks and car manufacturers. I'm not interested in pointing fingers or placing blame, but if I screwed up my bank account like AIG has screwed up theirs, no one in their right mind would bail me out and someone would absolutely take the checkbook away.

Some folks are afraid that if the government doesn't step in and the Big 3 fail, the domino effect will thrust the nation into another depression. I can understand why that scares people. It scares me. I don't pretend to have answers or really know enough to believe that we are on the road to recovery. I think every story is different and everyone will react based on how they are personally affected.

But, if President Obama is interested, there is another alternative. It's called the Real Bailout and it was forwarded to me in an e-mail chain so I can't take credit for thinking it up. Okay, here we go:

Offer approximately 4 million workers over the age of 50 $1 million each to retire immediately, with 2 severance stipulations.

First, upon their retirement each retiree will be required to purchase one new American made automobile. With orders for 4 million cars the auto industry will recover and can begin to create more economical and fuel-efficient vehicles.

Second, each retiree will be required to pay off their existing mortgage or purchase a new home (for cash). This will rejuvenate both the housing and lending markets. Banks will have the time to reorganize, re-prioritize, re-budget, and repay their bailout money.

Finally, by offering the retirement bailout approximately 4 million jobs will be created. That's a bonus win that will create economic residuals.

I'm sure there are at least a thousand little details that someone can nitpick about, but it really can be that basic. I'd vote for it and not just because my husband is one of those 4 million 50+ employees.

So, when can we expect those checks?

My life as a Borg

In a past life I worked for a company that seemed to operate under the mistaken impression that employees were automatons. Looking back the atmosphere seemed more like the Borg collective than an office. Resistance was futile.

This particular collective was more insidious than most. Once they got you in they gave you warm and fuzzies for a few days. But little by little the warm fuzzies were replaced by the cold furies. Mistakes were not tolerated. Conversation was to be avoided. Certain people were off-limits. Circus performances were a daily requirement.

For me the daily grind became a walk of the tightrope while twirling fire batons. Apparently someone mistook my grimace of concentration for the insidious emotion of joy. One afternoon I was called to the Borg-King's office. I was informed that the King himself had performed these functions for many a year and never, in all that time, had he found anything humorous about the work we did. I was now forbidden to smile, laugh, or emote joy. Seriously, was this for real? I started to smile and was met by a look that froze me in a way that only my mother had managed.

I shared this new edict with others of my kind. Disbelief stunned them into silence. We managed to find a way to express our humor, careful to conceal it from the Borg-Kings and Queen. But alas we were not successful and one glorious morning we were dis-similated. I was stunned and sad. Looking back it was a toxic atmosphere, but at the time I was too busy jumping through hoops to notice.

For now I'm still working on laughing without first looking around to see who's watching, while I look for a more humane collective to join.