Put blue and pink tips in her hair, that is. It's just for summer and she has to cut it off before summer band starts, but what the hell? She's a seriously awesome all-around good kid. If the worst thing I have to worry about is her hair, I got nothin' to complain about. At. All.
Of course, it does kind of look like maybe I might have gotten drunk and fucked a parrot once up on a time...
The last couple of weeks have been inordinately busy. Between the end of school year stuff, 3 graduations, 3 funerals and a trip to KC with Mom and The Girl to visit Grandma, one could rightly assume that we were experiencing an overabundance of activity. Add getting ready to teach a section or two at the local community college to the mix and getting The Girl ready to go off to drum major camp, and it's just a whole new level of crazy.
One interesting thing that happened Saturday was that I returned to my graduate program to teach a hands-on workshop on the Halstead-Reitan Neuropsychological Test Battery (HRNTB). It was nice to be asked to come back and teach, but I can't tell you how gratifying it was on any number of levels to be able to mail them an invoice this morning instead of being on the receiving end of the invoicing. It was nowhere near what I paid them over the years, but the evil little kid in me enjoyed the experience immensely.
I'm hoping that once this week is over we'll settle into a nice summer groove with no major hassles or disruptions. It would be nice for a change, but somehow that just doesn't seem likely. Sad. I could go for a frothy cold golden beverage poolside.
We had the joy of watching Greg Pattillo and PROJECT at the Texas Flute Society's annual festival today. What a talented group of musicians! They were just as much fun to watch as they were fun to listen to. We liked them so much that we bought their new CD online at CDBaby.com. I recommend it highly.
Speaking of the flute festival, The Girl performed her solo for a clinician in preparation for next week's All State Solo & Ensemble competition. The clinician was impressed with The Girl's style and playing ability - especially for her age. I tell ya' the kid's a rock star!
I got this in an email today and just wanted to share it with you in honor of Mother's Day.
This is for the mothers who have sat up
all night with sick toddlers in their arms,
wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer
wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying,
'It's okay honey, Mommy's here.'
Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can't be comforted.
This is for all the mothers who show up at
work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains
on their blouses and diapers in their purse.
For all the mothers who run carpools and
make cookies and sew Halloween costumes.
And all the mothers who don't.
This is for the mothers who gave birth to
babies they'll never see. And the mothers
who took those babies and gave them homes.
This is for the mothers whose priceless art
collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.
And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars.
And that when their kids asked, 'Did you see me, Mom?' they could say, 'Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world,' and mean it.
This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner. And for all the mothers who count to ten instead, but understand how child abuse happens.
This is for all the mothers who sat down with
their children and explained all about making
babies. And for all the (grand)mothers who
wanted to, but just couldn't find the words.
This is for all the mothers who go
hungry, so their children can eat.
For all the mothers who read 'Goodnight,
Moon' twice a night for a year. And then
read it again, 'Just one more time.'
This is for all the mothers who taught
their children to tie their shoelaces before
they started school. And for all the mothers
who opted for Velcro instead.
This is for all the mothers who teach their sons
to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.
This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls 'Mom?' in a crowd, even though they know their
own offspring are at home -- or even away
at college -- or have their own families.
This is for all the mothers who sent their kids
to school with stomach aches, assuring them
they'd be just FINE once they got there, only
to get calls from the school nurse an hour later
asking them to please pick them up. Right away.
This is for mothers whose children have gone
astray, who can't find the words to reach them.
For all the mothers who bite their lips until they
bleed when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.
For all the mothers of the victims of school shootings, and the mothers
of those who did the shooting.
For the mothers of the survivors,
and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror,
hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.
This is for all the mothers who taught their
children to be peaceful, and now pray
they come home safely from a war.
What makes a good mother anyway?
Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips?
The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, balance the checkbook and
sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time?
Or is it in her heart?
Is it the ache she feels when she
watches her son or daughter disappear
down the street, walking to school alone
for the very first time?
The jolt that takes her from sleep to
dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put
her hand on the back of a sleeping baby?
The panic, years later, that comes again
at 2 A.M. when she just wants to hear
their key in the door and know they
are safe again in her home?
Or the need to flee from wherever she is
and hug her child when she hears news
of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?
The emotions of motherhood are
universal and so our thoughts are for
young mothers stumbling through diaper
changes and sleep deprivation...
And for mature mothers learning to let go.
For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.
Single mothers and married mothers.
Mothers with money, mothers without.
This is for you all. For all of us...
Hang in there. In the end we can
only do the best we can. Tell them
every day that we love them. And pray
and never stop being a mother...
The fact that you only make $6 an hour is no excuse for your glaring lack of professionalism. The office in which we work is staffed with no less than three people who hold doctoral degrees, not just the one whose name is on the door. When you speak to one of us directly, please feel free to call us by our first names - we all have to work together and we prefer to keep things collegial. However, when speaking to patients or agencies about us, please refer to us by our correct professional title: DOCTOR Insertlastnamehere. We all worked very hard to earn those degrees while you were off smoking hashish in the woods somewhere frying your brain cells to the point where they no longer function adequately. To refer to us by our first names undermines our professional credibility with both the patients and the agencies that refer business to us. Between the paper thin walls, shabby worn-out 1980's furniture and the appearance that it is a public health clinic rather than a private psychology practice, this office has enough professional credibility problems as it is without you adding to them.
When I make a request in a polite fashion (speaking slowly because your brain is fried like your overbleached hair that's far too long for a woman of your years), don't take it as a personal affront and go whining to the boss, "Do we really have to do that?" Yes, you do because that is what a professional office worker does. If it's necessary to tell you again, I can't promise to be so nice. Then again, you probably won't understand a word I have to say because of your limited vocabulary and insistence upon behaving like some cutesy little 7-year-old girl - even though you're 52.
Oh yeah, and it's a PSYCHOLOGIST'S office. Why the hell do you and the office manager wear nurse's scrubs? It's not like you ever even touch the patients.
Every day I come up with a new rule about what my practice is going to be like. It's shaping up to be the opposite of whatever you are.
I was lunching solo in a restaurant the other day and overheard a conversation between two fine, upstanding Texas Ladies that went something like this:
"Natter natter natter bitch McCain. Natter natter natter. Bush natter but Obama bitch natter natter and that Hillary? Well just prattle natter bitch, bless her heart."
"Really? Well, bitch prattle natter rattle Obama, but then again bitch bitch prattle Hillary natter rattle prattle. But then again, I don't vote."
Sorry dumbass. If you don't vote, you effectively forfeit your right to natter, prattle or rattle - much less bitch about the political process. It's people like you who have done your level best to fuck up the country. Why don't you help unfuck it up for a change? Get your ass to the polls and vote.
We've all heard horror stories about insurance companies jerking people around when it comes time to pay on a claim, despite thousands paid in premiums. I am proud to say that didn't happen. My Texas Farm Bureau Insurance agent, Marc Lancaster out of the Hood/Somervell County office returned my phone call from Sunday at around 8:30 yesterday morning. I called in the claim a little after 9am when the main office opened and the claim was COMPLETED before 1pm. I had to go to the wrecking yard to sign the release of the vehicle to the insurance company and retrieve The Girl's remaining possessions and will have to sign a power of attorney & send it back with the title, but as soon as those make it back to the home office in Waco, they'll cut me a check for nearly what we paid for the car back in July. Granted, I'm not telling The Girl how much it is. All she knows is that she has to get another job - closer to home - and I'll be taking her to & from until she can save an as-yet-to-be-determined amount of her own money to get another car.
Marc told me today that our premiums will barely even go up because he's keeping us on the premium line & just adding a point. I hate to sound like a commercial, but Farm Bureau Insurance has branches in all 50 states. You should call them. Their coverage is more extensive and for lower premiums than any company I've seen. On top of that, they have the most amazing customer service - bar none. If you call Marc for a quote, tell him Doc sent you.
If you're interested, here are the pictures we took yesterday at the wrecking yard - with the car right-side-up. We never did find her paycheck. Then again, $140 is a small price to pay...
It was the call every parent dreads. The Girl called in sick to work and she, her godsister and two other friends went driving around yesterday afternoon - in TWO cars, no less. With the price of gas, "cruising" is on my list of pretty-much banned activities, but we were at Suz's helping her move into her new house - where apparently the teenagers don't have to lift a finger - and I didn't want to make waves. This has always been a bone of contention between the two of us. She thinks the kids should never be "bored," so she pretty much lets them do whatever they want (her two have always been brats, too - big surprise). I think that if you keep them busy, they don't have time to get bored or in trouble. But what could I possibly know about anything? Nevertheless, the girls got "bored" sitting around. Nevermind there was plenty of work available that they would have been perfectly capable of doing.
45 minutes after they left, Suz's cell phone rings and my daughter is screaming something about a wreck and wanting her mom. She didn't call me because she couldn't find her cell phone so she used her godsister's & Suz's number is programmed in at #1. The Girl was crying and screaming, "I"m sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry!" As I calmed her down so I could find out where they were so we could get to them, all I could think was, "I'm so thankful she's able to make this call."
So we all loaded up in The Man's pickup and headed that way - down a windy, VERY bumpy country road. Apparently The Girl stopped so that the other 2 girls could catch up. When they did, she gunned it, lost control, hit a tree, flipped her Explorer and skidded many yards down the road, totaling her car.
Imagine driving up on this scene, knowing your child was driving that vehicle - yeah, the red one that's upside-down:
Or this:
Or this:
Interestingly, in a reflexive, protective move, The Girl threw her arm across Suz's daughter's chest on impact. Once the vehicle came to a stop, they both crawled out of the open windows. Had the windows not been rolled down, they both would be picking glass out of their skin today. Instead, they have only a few abrasions from the airbags deploying and on their necks from the seatbelts holding them in place. Oh, and the emotional toll on The Girl from losing both her beloved car and her equally beloved job in the same instant.
The police, fire & EMT guys said that they were lucky. If they'd been in a convertible, then most likely they both would have been killed or seriously injured. A convertible like the red convertible Mustang my goddaughter HAD to have, so Suz naturally bought for her. The car they almost drove but didn't because Suz's daughter isn't licensed yet and The Girl isn't on their insurance policy.
So in the postgame analysis, even though The Girl thinks I'm mad because she wrecked her car, I'm not. I am thankful to be able to call the insurance guy tomorrow about handling the totaling of her car instead of cashing her life insurance policy and finding myself in the surreal and unenviable place of having to plan a funeral for a child. I'm happy she's home watching TV and sending text messages to her friends instead of on life support or in the morgue. I don't mind being inconvenienced by taking her to & from school until she can afford to buy another car. I don't mind helping her find another job closer to home or even taking her to and from the new job so she can save money to get another car. I'm endlessly grateful that my only child, my precious Girl, is home, safe and mostly that she is still alive to be able to try out for drum major in a couple of weeks, go on her band trip, compete at All-State solo & ensemble and most of all spend another summer floating in the pool and solving all the world's problems with me.
My blog is worth $96,536.34.
How much is your blog worth?
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