The Mourning of Summer Vacation

Long gone are the days of a "true" summer vacation. When I was in high school, getting out of school for the summer meant getting away from the school.  It meant going on vacation with the family, having family reunions by visiting relatives who lived out of state, or just hanging out with your friends.

Unfortunately, that is not the case these days with today's younger generation. Now that Alex has graduated from high school, Cameron is left to carry the torch. This means mandatory daily workouts in preparation for football in the fall. Football "camps" which is really a sneaky way of getting in some football practice prior to the official start of the season. Mandatory fundraisers that infringe on your weekend time. High school summer baseball, which involves doubleheader games at least twice a week and, starting next week, summer school. Cameron is taking two classes, not because he failed anything or needs to repeat a class for an improved grade, rather he is trying to gain some ground on the required classes needed for graduation. 

He is taking personal fitness (gym) and health. These are two required electives that he truly will not have room to take in his four years, without sacrificing something. He is a member of the PCEP orchestra, which is a full-year class, and will be a four-year comitment for him. There goes one slot for electives. He will be taking a foreign language for at least two years, there goes another elective spot. He is required by his parents (if not the state) to have four years of math, science, history, and english. There goes the rest of his schedule. When will he have time to take gym, health, or God forbid, something fun like cooking, photography, accounting, etc.? I find it so ironic that we're paying for him to take gym in the summer, when he is participating in daily football workouts and playing high school baseball. Something's not right and the requirements need to be changed so that students participating in a high school sport receive credit for it.

It's unfortunate that so many courses are offered at the Park, but he is unable to take advantage of them. Oh, I forgot--throw in the expected requirement of taking "advanced football" which is a class players are "highly recommended" to take during the football season, if not all year round, so they can get in their daily workouts--and you have the typical makings of too many requirements, too little time.

I long for the days when a kid had time to be a kid and parents had time to have a life. Now their schedules are so jam packed with workouts, practices, traveling to far away games, and homework there isn't time to go on a vacation during summer vacation! There's never time to take a break. The pressure to start prepping for the next sport begins during the prior sport. It is this way with all sports. I know that basketball camps and clinics are going on right now, and basketball season doesn't even begin until November or December! Pom tryouts, practices, and camps are also in full swing for next year's school season and competitions.

For years this has been something we've done our best to work around. But when you get into the higher grades, there is no working around it. You either adjust, or your kid suffers the consequences.  When I was in high school, if you felt the urge to try out for a sport for the fun of it, you could, and chances are you would make it. For instance, I decided to go out for cheerleading my senior year and I made it! If that happened now, I feel certain there would be protests. Nowadays, if you haven't been professionally playing a sport since you were five, forget it. These days kids are signed up for one camp or another on a regular basis beginning at a young age. There is lots of competition to be the best. Unfortunately, I think most of the competition is between the parents and not the kids.

I understand, we make the choice to participate in these activities. Rather, we let our child make the choice, and then we need to support it. But what I don't support is how playing a high school sport has become a career choice for the family, rather than an extracurricular activity for the student. 

More Jelly Beans Please

It's been about two months since the Easter season, and I have found myself suffering from severe SweeTart jelly bean withdrawal symptoms. I miss my sugar fix, and to be honest, nothing else is satisfying it. Not Skittles, Smarties, or Starburst.

Why would you do this to me, SweeTart people? Why would you lure me in with your tarty, dissolvable candy coating, get me hooked, and then leave me hangin' high and dry in the candy aisle, like a junkie looking for his drug dealer on the street corner? I'm not the only one that has found them hard to resist. I introduced these little treats to several friends and family members and they, too, instantly fell in love with them. Everyone who tried them immediately said "what are these?"

I first discovered these little "crack" jelly beans last year leading up to the Easter season. Upon first glance, they are not the most vibrant jelly bean, compared to your Starburst or Jolly Rancher jelly bean. Their colors consist of muted pastels. After Easter passed last year, I could not find one bag of these things to save my life. Then, they came out again at Halloween and they were a dull purple and orange. Not the most appetizing or attractive color scheme, but who cares.  When I happened upon them at Halloween, you can imagine what people around me thought as I screamed out with glee. My mind was racing--"Okay, okay....good, this is good. They must be making these on a regular basis now, or at least for certain holidays." So, when Halloween came and went and, once again, I was left standing at the "candy altar" I was crushed. I thought to myself "Well, Christmas is only a few weeks away, and we all know how early they start marketing that stuff, so surely there will be some Christmas jelly beans on store shelves very soon." I decided that I could tough it out (not that I had any choice).

So when Christmas merchandise started rolling out (which was literally the day after Halloween), I went on the prowl. "Okay, no Christmas SweeTart jelly beans the first week, hmmm....maybe I should try a different store. Kroger, Target, CVS, Walmart...no jelly beans!  What the hell! Who has Halloween jelly beans, but not Christmas jelly beans?!"

So, once again, my cravings would have to wait. And wait they did--November, December, January, February (because there were no Valentine's Day jelly beans, if you can believe that), and then it happened one day in Kroger in March.  SweeTart jelly beans right there in front of my face! It was such a monumental moment, it required a text to Alex, since the rest of my family had also been anticipating their return. Yes, I admit it, it's a sad day when the product of a catholic upbringing and education is more excited about the resurrection of SweeTart jellybeans than the resurrection of Jesus Christ during the Easter season. What can I say except "Bless me Father, I have sinned."

I bought so many bags of jelly beans that day, I think it ranks right up there with my "butter on sale" purchases that I wrote about a few weeks back.  I brought them home, and we devoured them and then we looked at each other in shame (but we had big smiles on our faces).

My family loves candy. I love candy. Who the heck does not love candy? I remember my mom taking us to the grocery store every Friday (because that was pay day) to do the grocery shopping and she would each let us each pick out a bag of candy. At home, we kept it in the "candy cupboard" and I can still picture it clearly to this day. We have a candy jar in our pantry and a candy basket for excess bags of candy. Because I live in a house full of boys, sometimes I have to hide some of the candy so that I might be able to enjoy some in case I don't want to consume it all in the first 39 minutes it's in the house, like they do. I like to savor my candy. They do not. I have been reduced to hiding candy in little trinket boxes around the house, decorative bird houses, pockets, and drawers. Ed and I like to call it "secret candy." As I type this, I'm starting to think I need candy rehab.

Once again, I was led on and then dumped by the SweeTart people. When will I ever learn? I was so astounded that I could not find any of these jelly beans after the Easter season in this age of 2009, that I even went on the internet and did a search for any information leading to the purchase of post-Easter SweeTart jelly beans. I was astounded to find that I was not alone. Many people had blogs devoted entirely to candy! Many described their own addictions to these tarty little beans and and their desire to purchase more. Ultimately, the only way I found I could purchase these treats was in bulk from a candy warehouse that sold 10 lbs. of the beans for $39.99. I haven't been able to stoop that low yet. I'm holding out for 4th of July jelly beans. 

God is great, beer is good...

...and people are crazy. Those are the lyrics to a country song by Billy Currington. The first time I heard that song and it's haunting melody, I thought to myself, "ain't that the truth?" That's the beauty of a great song--the ability to sum up life, and all of its complexities, in just a few short, simple statements. None of this "my heart will go on, blah, blah, blah.....near, far....blah, blah, blah." Directness--that's really more my style. Get to the point, say what you want, mean what you say. God is great! Beer is good! And people are crazy!! Country music can be so refreshingly direct. Many of the songs talk openly and honestly about the singer's feelings...I love my pickup truck....she's a tramp....I'm a drunk....I love you... you hate me.....I love horses.....you're a cheater.....she's a tramp.....I love beer.

Just like a photo, the power of a song can be incredible. Any song, any genre. It can create memories, make you relive them when you hear it again years later, and bring you to tears, whether it's from joy or sadness.

I often think, what would we do without music? How did I survive prior to the invention of the Ipod, or worse yet, how would I survive if I lost my hearing? Some songs hold a special place in our hearts and remind us of a memory or a particular place and time. Every time I hear "Color My World" it reminds me of middle school dances. Back then, that was one of the popular "slow dance" songs.  "One for My Baby" sung by Bette Midler on Johnny Carson's last Tonight Show reminds me of Ed's dad and his final days at our home. "More than Words" by the group Extreme, was my "focus" song during labor with Alex (all 15 hours of it!). It was kind of ironic that we heard it while out to dinner, over the weekend, for his 18th birthday. 

Which leads me to Alice Cooper's "I'm Eighteen" and "School's Out." Those two songs couldn't be more appropriate for Alex this week. He's not familiar with them but seeing as how they were popular in the 70's, I am! I've been humming them all week.

As I mentioned, Alex turned 18 on Saturday. The lyrics to this song include "I'm a boy and I'm a man." Isn't it funny how Alex is old enough to sign up for the military so he can be trained to go overseas and defend his country, and he can register to vote to have a voice in the leadership of his city, state, and country, but he can't have a beer? Not that I'm suggesting that I want him to drink alcohol, but just the fact that 18 is old enough for some stuff, but not others. When I mentioned the irony of this to Alex, he said, thanks to psychology class, it's because an 18 year old's brain is not mature enough or developed enough to "handle" the alcohol (at which time I thought to myself...hmmmm, I know some 30, 40, and 50 year-old brains that aren't mature enough to handle alcohol, what's their excuse?). I guess for now he'll have to settle for  singing "God is great, milk is good, and people are crazy."

It's Wabbit Season!

Let the games begin. As a gardener, nothing gives you more pleasure than waking up, looking out the window, surveying your yard and thinking about how the back-breaking, joint-swelling pain you endured from weeding, planting, and digging was all worth it. Seedlings start  to sprout, flowers begin to bloom, vines begin to creep. Your winter-ugly yard has been transformed into an oasis.

Then, as you stand there with a big self-satisfying grin on your face, it happens. You spot a rabbit dining on your garden. For me, the reaction usually consists of banging on the window, flinging the door wall open, running out onto the patio in my pajamas, screaming at what the neighbors, I'm sure, perceive to be nothing, clapping my hands, waving my arms furiously in the air, and spewing all kinds of expletives and shooing noises at the wind. I've never, ever been a proponent of guns, but I must tell you that rabbits drive me right to the edge of wanting  to own a big one. It's always this time of year I start to relate to Glenn Close's character in Fatal Attraction.

It's funny how creative we get in trying to dissuade these cute, yet pain-in-the-ass critters. Fences, fake owls, and sprays that smell like rotten eggs or contain wolf urine or something so abstract you don't even want to know what it is that's dripping on you. One year, my Aunt Mary had read that human hair keeps rabbits at bay. Having had her own rabbit issues, she came home with a bag of hair from her hair salon lady. I'm quite certain that as she spread it around the base of her flowers in her front yard, her elderly neighbors thought she was performing some kind of black magic, voodoo ritual and quietly closed their blinds afraid that she might see them watching her and then cast some sort of evil spell on them.

The backyard at our former house consisted of a wood deck and a yard with a privacy fence. Unfortunately, I may as well have put up a sign that said "rabbit breeding grounds and all the free flowers you can destroy." Rabbits love nothing more than a deck which they can crawl under to procreate, and then a fenced in yard which keeps predators at bay. You'd think, "well, you have a privacy fence, how do they get in there in the first place?" Let me tell you, I've seen rabbits convert their bodies into jello in which their skeletal structure seems to dissolve right before my very eyes as I watch them slither under the fence or in between an opening that only a nickel could fit through. 

One summer, I had a baby rabbit take up residence under the deck, which was only inches away from my impatiens around the maple tree. I observed his routine from the kitchen window. Sneak out from the deck....munch, munch, munch....sneak back under the deck. Aaaaahhhh "life is good" he thought.

At first, I thought I would try to corral it into an area where it could leave the yard. Please...what a joke. I was such an amateur back then. I couldn't even touch the door wall to step out onto the deck before it's supersonic ears picked up my vibrations  and disappeared under the deck.  Seriously, it was like an apparition. Here one nanosecond and then just "poof"--gone.

Eventually, I decided to trap it and remove it from the yard. Having watched many a cartoon while growing up, I decided to use a laundry basket, a stick, some fishing line, and of course, some lettuce and carrots. I put the bait between the deck and the flowers and then put the laundry basket upside down over the food, of course, one end was propped up with a "Y" shaped stick. Then, fishing line was attached to the stick and I ran it up to the kitchen window through the screening, and voila! You have a rabbit trap. Then, I waited. It didn't take long, and oh my goodness, for the first time ever I started to understand the thrill of why Ed went deer hunting. As I watched this little critter work his way closer to the "snacks" my heart started pounding out of my chest. I found myself saying aloud "Just a little more...closer....closer..." Seriously, I felt like Elmer Fudd. Then, he was under the basket. I quickly pulled on the fishing line and "zing" I had me a rabbit! It was so exhilirating!!!! It was so ridiculously easy, I couldn't even believe it.

The next step, however, was not so ridiculously easy. The plan was to somehow get him out from the under the basket and out of the yard. Hmmmm....this was something I hadn't quite thought about. This little bunny was so freaked out and bouncing off the walls of the laundry basket like a pinball. To lift the basket, stick a gloved hand in there (he was only about the size of a large avocado), and grab him was going to be a challenge.  Let me correct that, an impossible task. Sure enough, he escaped. So, I quickly improvised my trap and put the bait on some screening so that the next time I caught him, all I had to do was gather the screening up around the basket. Great inventions require lots of trial and error, you know!

These days, since my yard is wide open to the western edge of Canton, I construct a netting fence around my wildflower garden. Everything else is fair game. I do understand that the rabbits (and deer) were here first, and I try to plant things that they supposedly don't care for, which, realistically is nothing. I have been very fortunate in that the deer do not bother my yard in the summer months. Thank goodness, because I don't think I have laundry basket big enough for that!

Manage Your Pain

As parents, Ed and I have never been ones to coddle the boys. That doesn't mean we aren't affectionate or caring, we just don't give in to crying or complaining.

While the boys were growing up, our philosophy was always that of "manage your pain." Alex was such a "fragile" child, physically, that he would come to us with every little paper cut. My response was usually something like "You think that hurts, trying giving birth to a nine pound, eleven ounce bowling ball! When you can top that, then come back to me." However, I will admit, the time his tooth was ripped out of his mouth after getting caught on the basketball net and was flung down the driveway did get my attention. I like to think that our philosophy on pain management was what helped Alex overcome his doubts of playing high school football, along with seeing his buddies survive it freshman year. The daily bumps and bruises he came home with this last year almost caused my eyes to pop out of my head, while he barely noticed them. He's come a long way since being a toddler.

Cameron, on the other hand, could have his leg amputated while riding his bike and not even notice it. "Uh...why is there blood gushing from your thigh, Cam?" He would respond "I don't know." But, for as tough as he was physically, his feelings could be crushed in an instant if you looked at him sideways. Go figure.

We quickly learned that kids take their cues from their parents. So, if you're going to be freaking out about every little thing, so will they. If  you're going to be afraid of experiencing life, so will they. Thus, daily events at our house were regularly met with comments like "you know, people are dying of brain tumors today...deal with it."

Sick days from school and trips to the pediatrician were far and few between. We learned that so many of life's ailments could be solved with a little practicality. You have a stomache...eat less junk and go to the bathroom more. You have a headache, drink some water and get some food in your stomach. You've got a boo-boo, get a band aid.  You're tired, go to bed. I don't need a doctor to tell me "It's just a virus...take some ibuprofen...be practical....it just needs to run it's course....that will be $50 please!"

The boys learned that stomachaches or headaches weren't going to cut it. Unless they had a gaping wound or a very high fever, they knew better than to even bring it up. On the occasions the boys have stayed home from school sick, I do try to make them feel special because I know they have earned it.

This might include some type of meal in bed (food in the bedroom is a major no-no in our household) like soup or ice cream.   Renting movies, snuggling in my bed to watch TV, or sleeping the whole day is usually how they are spent.

Over the weekend, Cameron developed a bug. He mentioned he had a headache and had a bit of a cough start yesterday morning. I took his temperature and he did a have a fever of 101. So, we gave him some ibuprofen, instructed him on drinking lots of water, and getting some rest (after he worked on his homework, of course). Late last night, before bedtime, I decided to take his temp again after performing the ritual "forehead check" on him. Hmmm...you do feel kinda warm. The thermometer read 103.2! "Holy crap" I thought to myself. "I'm going to go talk to dad...I'll be right back. Here, have some water." 

I headed out to the family room and announced "Cameron has a fever of 103, do you think we should call the doctor's office?" Alex screamed "103! You want me to call Oakwood (urgent care)?"   Ed and I decided to call the pediatrician's office and speak to the nurse on call. I suppose the swine flu uproar, was cause for a little concern. Not much, but a little. Cameron said someone in his class that he sits next to was out of school for four days. 

As we suspected, a temperature of 103 is really not too much cause for concern. The nurse said this was a good temperature for fighting an infection. Cameron did seem to be somewhat okay (snacking on Skittles was one of my first clues). He was not bedridden all day, although he had complained of chill. Him wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt while out in the sun during the gorgeous weather we were experiencing did make me stop and wonder if he was okay.  (Now that I think about it, he probably was suffering from heat stroke last night.) He wasn't unresponsive throughout the day  and his mood wasn't too different from normal. After seeing he had a temperature of 103, however, I was surprised he wasn't a little more lethargic. During the winter season, I had a fever of 101 and felt so achey. My limbs felt like dead weight. Of course, they kind of felt like that after a week of weeding, planting, and yard work, so who am I to judge?

Anyway, the nurse recommended we continue our regimen of fluids and ibuprofen and keep an eye on his fever. If it were to go a degree higher, then we should be concerned. After we spoke with the nurse, the pampering began promptly with Alex being instructed to bring up a popsicle for his ailing brother to eat on Ed's side of the bed while watching TV. Nothing feels better than your parents waiting on you, unless it's your older brother dropping what he's in the middle of, climbing a flight of stairs and waiting on you.

This morning the fever is down and Cameron is catching up on his sleep. Of course, after he wakes and has his breakfast in bed, he'll be getting to work on that language arts project that is due in a couple of weeks.