Previous month:
October 2010
Next month:
December 2010

On punks and braggarts

The last couple of weeks have been a little rough for Chance at school.  See, and right after I wrote about how well he was doing.  Sigh.  First, it was Halloween, then he was on Prednisone (that stufff SUCKS donkey balls for already hyper kids!), then it was... I don't know.  SPD?  Trying to get away with messing around?  A cold kicking in?   It's really hard to splice out all the elements leading to bad behavior, but I had to pick him up from school three times for just acting out so much the teacher can't teach.  Of course, he doesn't WANT to leave school or want to be in trouble.  He's got a good heart.  His impulsive tendencies coupled with high emotions lead to... more impulsive behavior and high emotions!  Yay. 

So anyway, we've set up an OT re-screening to see if tweaking his sensory diet will help.  His initial screening was over two years ago so I imagine we might need to change up his activities. I also want to see if there is anything else besides SPD popping up.   The thing is he does great in his speech/OT sessions with another kid, but a classroom of 30 is completely different.  I think he also needs some refreshers on how to express frustration/anger in better ways.  I.e. without running around the room shrieking (what the hell is up with the fricking shrieking?!) OR rolling on the floor and refusing to get up because he knows that pushes everyone's buttons at school.

Aren't audiences great?!

Yes, I am cynical. Because brushing off all his behavior as SPD-based will not help him. Sometimes kids are just punks because they can be. 

Whatever the reason for the recent behavior here's hoping it'll get better. And it's not all bad either. This morning Chance received an award for reading!  (I mean, they will ALL get awards throughout the year, but that doesn't mean it isn't a big deal to the kids. Positive reinforcement, wooh!)  He knows all the kindergarten required words and he's been reading first and second grade-level books. He's been reading for awhile (beause if you can't read you can't follow instructions on video games!  Seriously, Mario Bros have been a big incentive for him) but he used to always want me and Keen to read books to him. 

Last night, for the first time, he read an entire book to me, including the contents page.

Smart little punk.                      - wg

The skin is thin in California

Temperatures were absolutely frigid this weekend.  OK, probably not frigid compared to the rest of the country but it was cold.  Or rather it was our first winter storm blowing through after a couple of balmy days in the upper 70s - low 80s.  See, the weather around here really likes to fuck with you, staying warm well past when it should and then knocking you down with quick right hook.  It dropped down to the low 50s this weekend, with icy rain and that kind of wind that drives everything sideways. 

Low 50s, you say?  Shut the hell up!  That's hardly winter.

Oh except, EXCEPT! this weekend was also Chance's soccer tournament.  Four games these little tykes had to play in frigid weather.  I mean, really, who makes 4 & 5-year-olds play a tournament anyway, even if the weather is nice?  They're toast after one game as it is.  At one point before a game the rain came crashing down so cold I thought it was going to hail.  If that had kept up there's no way I would have let Chance play.  But it cleared up just enough that we carried on.  These little guys with their shivering lips gamely falling in the fields-turned-mud-swamps.  Because I suppose that's what good parents do.  Or maybe crappy parents who let their small children play in the freezing cold.  I'm not sure anymore.  Obviously sports are confusing me.  I think they're designed that way on purpose.  I can't prove anything but I suspect all of sports culture in Amercia has been orchestrated by the beer industry to sell product.  By joining a league I've probably contributed to teenagers getting drunkenly knocked-up beneath bleachers somewhere.  SPORTS bleachers!  Producing more offspring to continue the sports/beer culture!

It's really obvious now that I've thought about it.  Building character my ass.

How many more years of this will I have to go through?            - wg

Letting go of blogs doesn't mean letting go of bloggers

I have to clean my blogroll.  It hasn't been updated in forever.  It's one of those tasks that I think is important but I put it off because so many bloggers I loved have stopped blogging.  It's hard for me to let go of those folks.  I think a good third of my blogroll hasn't updated in months. And months.  But I keep hoping they'll come back.

I know that's the nature of blogging. Lots of people view it as a fleeting hobbie, lots of bloggers get frustrated or bored with one blog and just move on to start another one, with maybe a new personality or focus.  At least that used to be common (especially when a lot more of us were anonymous).  Actually, I'm not sure what the current ettiquette is about keeping a blog nowadays.  Can someone enlighten me?  I started five years ago and it really has changed.  We were kind of those weirdos with blogs, you know.  I feel a bit like an old fogey.  I have a hard time letting go because I really felt like I had a community back then.  (Back in the good old days.  grrr! *throws walnut*)  I still feel like I have a community, but it's moved and morphed, some of it shrinking, some of it expanding, and I don't necessarily know if it's the same as when I started.  It felt very personal back then.

Part of it is my fault and I think part of it is the way the Internet has changed.  Somewhere along the way I stopped visiting blogs as often, which I'm actually trying to change.  And part of it, there became just too many platforms to keep up on; one group at Facebook, one on Twitter, another on blogs, then the groups started merging and people migrated and I lost track.    

I admit it, I lost track of people and their blogs, and I feel bad about it.  Like old friends you've driften away from, then when you finally get around to visiting you find out they moved.  But some of them just left while I was still checking in, and I miss those people. I wonder how they're doing.

However, it is high time for me to update my blog roll.  (There's something about overcast Fall days that makes me feel the need to organize and be maudlin all at once.)  I've got a list in my bookmarks that is completely different. I've got lists on Facebook and Twitter and I'm itching with the need to get it all straightened out. (Stop laughing. I can do it.)

So here's the deal... if you're one of those bloggers who is still around but under a new name, new place, whatever, or if you just want to keep in touch even if you've left the blog world, or if you're a lurker (because I get a lot of hits and few comments)... drop me a line.

My email is always open.

                       - the weirdgirl

30 Days of Truth - Days 3 & 4, Now with extra bitterness

I'm doing this one together so you can really see the hypocrisy! 

Day 03 - Something you have to forgive yourself for

I'm still in the middle of this so it's all emotionally muddled, but I've been trying to get pregnant for three years now.  Even though I know intellectually there were/are circumstances beyond anyone's control I'm pretty sure forgiveness (or lack thereof) is going to come up at some point. Or maybe the lack thereof is just ongoing.  It has moved past the point of "I want another child".  I really feel like Chance deserves a sibling; that it would be good for him, that it would be good for our family.  I have not been deemed infertile.  Everything should work but hasn't.  I did get pregnant, once, just this summer and had a miscarriage... on the way to BlogHer!  I drank and danced quite a bit in NY.  I hadn't drank anything in so long.  I've gotten awfully good at suppressing over the last few years.  It's hard to talk about forgiveness when you're still working through it.  Anyway, this prompt is supposed to be about what we have to forgive ourselves for and not about any actual forgiving, right?

I have an end date in mind that I'm coming up on soon. Because of my advancing age and rotten eggs.  I can't even frame words around that yet.

Day 04 - Something you have to forgive someone for

No.  In general, I am pretty damn forgiving and supportive.  I measure by a bigger range of what constitutes understandable human error than most people I know.  Everyone is fallible.  Mistakes are made - circumstances, mental/emotional health, lack of maturity/forethought all contribute to mistakes and we grow (or should) from them.  However, there IS a line and if you cross it I'm not forgiving.  That's God's job.  I can understand letting it go.  I can understanding not letting other people's past actions affect your day to day happiness.  But excusing the behavior?  No.  Plus, there's something about forgiveness that's become Hollywoodized and I don't trust it.  The big tearful moments of confrontation, the exclamations, the hugs?  Who is that for?  The person doing the forgiving or the person being forgiven?  Or everyone watching?  It seems made up.  Like the idea of honor, which as far as I can figure has always just been an excuse for men to do awful and violent things to each other.  In real life I think my line of unacceptable is reasonable, and I think people who know me would agree.  So yeah, I might sound like a rigid bitch but I don't see any reason why I should forgive people who've crossed that line.

And THAT'S how fucked up I am!

For the record, that line is in the "hurting children" category, not the "she scammed on my boyfriend" category.                    - wg

On pies and turkeys and other crap on my phone

I know I'm supposed to working on the whole 30 days of truth thing (and I'm gonna get back to that - quit nagging!) but Keen, somewhere, stumbled on the idea of making pies in a mason jar.  Like you can make a mini single or double serving of pie in a canning jar, freeze it, and pull it out any time to bake it - in the jar - for pie!  Any time pie!  I've We've been kind of obsessed.  We thought it'd be cool to put them in the holiday gift baskets.  Of course, this takes lots of test runs.  (Oh damn!)  I've been big on apple. And because it's me, marshmallows must also work into the recipe equation.  Trust me, it works.

Isn't it cute?!


However, it's one thing when you make pies in pint jars, those goes rather quickly.  It's another when you're trying to squish your fingers and delicate pie dough into a small 8oz container. It's going a little slower.  And in chunks.  Remember when I was bitching about discussing never having more time than 2 hour increments?  My house is never the most pristine, you understand (except for when the cleaners come because they are awesome and I fool around with pie), but right now my kitchen is a disaster.

This is the clean side.  (BTW, toasting each apple slice has been crucial to the pie-making process.  And don't forget a light spraying of albuterol.  Just kidding.  I was hungry. The albuterol being left out just means I'm a slob.)


I didn't want to show the other counters. Or the sink.  It isn't pretty.  I'm hoping to have the project done today with a good 8-10 pie jars. I'm also going to be walking around the house saying, "Shut your pie jar!" and thinking I'm extraordinarily funny.  Alas, I know better.

While I was snapping shots on my phone I found a couple more random shots of crap I thought was amusing.  Then forgot about. Going through my phone is always strange.

First... turkeys!


This was at my parents' house.  I grew up with an apricot orchard behind my house and a quick stroll to get to the wild hills behind them.  But it took turning those trees into over-priced under-yard homes (with, I swear, bathroom windows that are two feet from their neighbors) for turkeys and other wildlife to start roaming brazenly in the streets.  I hear there's a rumble going down after dark between the coyotes and the 'coons.

Then there is the ever popular red wagon full of graves!


Cheerful yet disturbing.  And here is the rock my child insists on climbing every time we go to this one zoo park.  Even though he totally fell off it the first time. From the top!  Amazingly he wasn't hurt and I didn't have a heart attack even though it is exceedingly tall and hard.  I don't know what the park planners were thinking. Maybe the rocks were for the gazelles.


It's lonely at the top.

(I told you I wasn't funny.)          - wg

Brenda's strange obessession was for certain vegetables and fruits

In the mail I've received a catalogue entirely filled with socks.  It is aimed at teenagers.  I am enthralled.  I love socks.  I love socks hard.  (That's what he said.)  One birthday when I was a kid I got 15 pairs of underwear.  Nothing else, just underwear.  That blew.  But if they had been socks?  Pretty much every Christmas I ask for socks.  Preferably cashmere blend, but if they are cushy soft I'm not picky.  When I get a hole in a sock I cling to it much too long.  We had a deep relationship you understand and it just does't feel ready to be over.  Except for that one cold spot (/bad habit/hates kids) the sock still seems Perfectly Good. I really should learn how to make sock monkeys.  (Just typing that made an ominous boom go off in the house. Who the hell brought a gong in here?)  There is a whole page in this catalogue devoted to a sock menagerie.  And it says, "made from real socks."


I wouldn't call it a fetish, I just really don't see any reason adults must skimp on socks once they've grown past teenagehood.  Winter makes your feet cold.  Although, I admit the colors in this catalogue are... unfortunate.  As are the multi-color hearts and bows.  But... holy bejeebus!  They've got socks with metal studs! 

I am a goner.                - wg