Someday My Race Will Come...

I've been a NASCAR fan for a hundred years, or at least it feels that way. I spent many years following Indy and Formula 1, especially enjoying and working the Toyota Gran Prix of Long Beach. That is a race that I have seen in person at least a dozen times.

Still NASCAR was always my first love. Drive fast, turn left! For the second time in my life I live within spitting distance of a race track with huge races. Here in Texas they have the race twice a year. But, have I ever managed to see a race in person? Uh, no.

For some reason it seems like this year just about everyone I know, including some that I never thought were race fans, got invited to today's race. Fully half of them got to see the race from a suite! Before we moved to TX the DH went to California Motor Speedway and saw a race. Oh yeah, from a suite! Did I get to use the extra ticket? NO! And he isn't really even a NASCAR fan.

Am I just a wee bit jealous? Ya think?! But that's okay, someday my race will come. When it does not only will I have great seats, maybe even a suite, but my favorite driver will be in the winner's circle! Until then I'll just whine a little on race days.

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.

When exactly will he grow up and am I really ready for it?

Tonight I sit marveling at the sleeping man-child that I gave birth to almost 12 years ago. This is the baby that my grandmother took one look at and said, "He's been here before." She was right. He has a wise old soul. The exact combination of innocence and knowledge that makes you pull your hair out one moment and stare in awe the next. In sleep he seems so innocent. It is then that I can see the man inside the child.

This boy has a heart as big as the sky, with a gift of compassion as warm as the sun. He can also be incredibly self-centered and obnoxiously rude. Sometimes he manages to be the best and worst in the span of a nanosecond. He thinks he's all grown up, but I'm still wondering when he's really gonna grow up. This child that cannot sleep if I have not walked him to bed and uttered the nightly exchange we have shared since he could repeat after me. This same boy looks forward to Saturday mornings so he can have snuggle time while we watch cartoons. And this young man doesn't want his friends to see me kiss him goodbye when I drop him at school. There are times when he seems more like a 5-year-old than an 11-year-old. When we watch westerns and he has to have his toy gun 'just in case', when he throws a tantrum, and when he asks the same question 20 times or whines for five minutes straight (actually the whining is more 2-year-old). But then, we're walking through the store and he slips his hand into mine, or stops what he's doing just to tell me he loves me, or he tells me that 24/7 just isn't enough time to spend with me. I know the time is coming soon when he will want to spend less time with me. I also know that, for a time at least, he will be emotionally withdrawn from me.

Still, I find myself asking 'when is this child going to grow up?' At those times I try to stop, breathe, and remind myself that he'll grow up when he's ready. And no, I'm not ready for it, so I will wait, mostly patiently. Because the reality is I love the moments I share with my child. I wouldn't trade a single snuggle, held hand, or I love you for one grown up second.

One of my favorite Trace Adkins songs, "You're Gonna Miss This" is about letting go of things too fast. I will miss this, but I will also remember this and treasure the little blessings this man-child gifts me with. I am lucky to be his mom.

Navigating Texas

I’ve never been navigationally challenged. As long as I had gas and a steering wheel, I could find my way anywhere and sometimes I even found places that weren’t on the map! Unlike my beloved Gram, who could be turned around, and I quote, “ass backward” in a mall, I was fortunate not suffer that indignity. I’d bet anything that part of it was my Dad’s doing – there were many family trips where directions consisted of ‘go my way’ or ‘turn your way’ ‘not that left, the other left’ and ‘no not that way’ quickly followed by ‘that’s not what the map said’. Even the Auto Club’s TripTik wasn’t foolproof (and still isn’t, but that’s another blog). I’m sure that somehow he made it important for me to know how to read a map, locate N/S/E/W while driving, and know my left and right. If not, I’ll give him the credit anyway.

While it’s true that back home there were landmarks to guide me, I rarely relied on them except to judge distance and air quality. (Can you actually see downtown LA, Century City or the Hollywood sign?)

Here in TX, navigational direction takes on a new meaning. Direction is hard to determine as most roads run in circles or at least very zigzag. You can’t even use just a freeway number to give general direction since the major N/S freeway also bears an E/W designation. (If you want to go to Dallas you take 35E South, for Fort Worth you take 35W South.) Moreover, don’t get me started on the names of freeways or the road numbers assigned. Out here, you have to know the exit number since most businesses run along the frontage road, which bears the same name as the freeway. I long for the days of the 710, 5, 57, 210, 605, 405, and 91 freeways.

But, I digress. I KNOW that the sun rises in the East and sets in the West. Not even Texans have the power to change that and I KNOW that Denton is north of both Dallas and Fort Worth. Holding these pieces of knowledge close, while trying to drive around and get acclimated, has helped greatly. After all, there are no mountains to orient me to the North! I was delighted to discover that the front of our house faces west, resulting in beautiful sunsets being viewed from our front yard. Things had been going along just fine and I’d managed to keep from getting lost as well as be able to give Scott directions from time to time to keep him from getting lost.

Then we headed to swim lessons last week and all was lost. It was a very warm day and I still hadn’t adjusted to the time change so I was startled to find myself walking into the sunset after leaving the pool with JM. This wouldn’t seem like a big deal except that I drove East, AWAY from our house and the pool also faces east (or so they said). I was confused. I was trying to figure out how the roads that took me East suddenly had me facing West. I kept reviewing the route in my mind, picturing the roads and the turns. Not once did I drive in a loop or circle.

My confusion grew as I drove home. Scotty kept trying to explain, but his explanation made no sense to me. I had driven EAST, away from my house. And yes, I understood that West for me was West for a lot of other people, some over water, others not. However, it still didn’t make sense – I would have had to drive in a circle in order to be facing West again. Scotty and I kept discussing this among ourselves in the front seat. JM was happily watching cows in the back seat.

Finally, when we made a right turn and the sun was once again off to my right, I said to Scott “I just don’t get it; I need the map when we get home. I’m confused and I don’t like it.” Just as Scott was going to explain one more time, a tiny voice from the back speaks up. JM, my darling boy who, for the moment, thinks I’m really smart and brave, says….

“It’s okay Mom. Just wait a couple of hours. The sun will go down and you won’t be confused anymore.”

That’s my boy! I laughed all the way home – and still do every time I think about it.