Am I a square, or will my life come full circle?

Back in my single days in SoFla., I have to say I did not own an appliance with the exception of a toaster. Even though it was "the time to buy" real estate, I never had enough money to put a down payment on a condo. I was basically - no, actually I was- living paycheck to paycheck. I lived in four different apartments apres college and prior to meeting my husband. Home ownership was a foreign concept to me.

I remember fantasizing about owning my own place so I could decorate it how I wanted, and not throw rent money out the window with no equity. The tradeoff was that there was no responsibility whatsoever except to pay the rent, which is why I spent my free time biking, playing tennis, jogging and hanging out at the beach and pool. Hmmmm - sounds like a fantasy life now. What the hell was I thinking?

My husband and I have been paying on our house for over 29 years and recently paid it off. Done - finito - burn the mortgage paper time. I wanted to celebrate when I sent the final balance to the bank, but as I reflected, I put on the brakes.  I started thinking that with all the interest, we probably paid millions for this house that was originally less than $100 thousand which is mind boggling and a bit depressing.

April 1986

 I don't think that we moved into this house expecting to be here this long. We just never left. By the time I was eleven, I had already moved five times. Was staying in the same spot a conscious effort on our part not to move our children around? Sounds like a noble thing to do but honestly, I think it's because my husband and I accumulated too much crap and just couldn't even fathom the amount of energy it would take to move it (especially in the 2-car garage that has never seen a car parked in it, but that's the subject of another post). However, the end result is our kids had a memorable and fun childhood here. We established roots and this house will always be home to them.

Big brother and friend welcoming new addition - March 1990

We were the party house - Christmas parties, birthday parties, communion parties, graduation parties, farewell and come back safe from deployment parties, welcome home from deployment parties. Poker parties, barbecue parties, and finally the most infamous and neighborhood-renowned... Annual Easter Egg Hunt parties.

These egg hunts, where we hid over 300 plastic eggs filled with candy and money, entailed lots of food and drink, and usually ended with fireworks and the obvious issues that come with explosives when the gents igniting them have had a little too much beer. Thankfully, no child or adult was ever hurt, but the woods caught on fire once, another time the roof, and if I remember correctly one year a child's Easter basket bit the dust. In hindsight, we should have had people sign waivers at the door.

Now our grandkids search for the eggs with our neighbors' grandchildren. Kind of nice to keep that tradition going, although I have put my foot down in regards to the fireworks. But if I know my husband, he has a stash somewhere that I don't know about. Probably hidden somewhere in his garage (note I said HIS - I lay no claim to that disaster).

Somehow this old house, its inhabitants, and all the guests survived the many celebrations. It's comforting to know that this house is a part of other families' special memories as well as ours and is continuing on with the grandchildren (think circle).

However, now the house is as creaky as the two of us and in need of renovating and repair. Seems the three of us have grown old together. But here's the irony: now that we finally own the house, it's becoming harder and harder to take care of the beast because of our age. The appliance-free life may be calling us again. Hmmm... hanging out at the beach and pool - not a bad idea - not bad at all. Maybe even a bike with a basket is in my future. Now THAT circle sounds like fun! 

OK, so the body might be a stretch - but I could definitely get the bike!

Do you really want to know what's in there?

A small excerpt from Caught in the Middle.
Chapter entitled, "Hey! What's the buzz?" (aka step away from the book bag)

It is a little known fact that you put your life at risk when you decide to unzip a middle school student’s book bag. Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but your health could certainly be in jeopardy. In elementary school the parents are all excited in regards to the child going to school and about all the things he or she will be learning. They go through the book bag nightly looking for sweet things their little munchkin made or created during the day so they can completely cover every inch of the refrigerator with their child’s work. This starts to taper off by 5^th grade and by middle school they are only thinking, “How many more years do I have left of this s**t?” and then proceed to leave the kids’ book bags alone until college to collect as much junk as possible and grow enough mold to harvest penicillin from all the food left inside to rot.

When administrators find it necessary to search a book bag, we are never sure what we are going to find; however, two things are guaranteed. The bag will definitely be toxic enough to warrant a haz mat suit, and we are probably going to find things we wish we hadn't, which is exactly what happened to Harry on this fateful day...

I have had one rejection from an agent and have not heard from the three others. Keeping fingers and toes crossed!

What is the best part about having children?

"The Three Amigas"

The greatest joy of having children is enjoying them as adults. Really. Unless of course your child ends up in an orange jumpsuit, which is every parent’s greatest nightmare right up there with driving accidents. If you are reading this and have little ones at home and doubt my first statement I can understand that. You love to snuggle with your little ones, watch them learn and grow, puke, have diarrhea, whine, cry, and keep you up at all hours of the night. And then as they grow older you spend countless hours helping them with their schoolwork virtually repeating every grade level you already completed only to be thanked by an “I hate you!” at least once in their life.

Been there, done that.

When they are adults, it’s time to finally enjoy the fruits of your labor.

My oldest, Anthony, will be 29 next month.  But you will find out more about Anthony in April. And yes Anthony – if you are reading this you are not safe from mom’s blog!

My “little” girl, Annamarie, turns 25 this weekend. A quarter of a century. Yikes. She lives in California – that’s right – the farthest possible place from her mom on the continental U.S.  She chose to go to college in Orange, CA. and decided to stay and make

Graduation Day!

a living in the Golden State. People (including my husband) asked how I could agree to allow my daughter to attend college so far away. My response was how could I not? It was a no brainer to me. What an adventure and experience for her and if I would have had the chance to do that when I was her age I would have been all over it. She was given grants and scholarships and we somehow made it work. Was it frightening to me??? Oh heck yeah. But I believed that my own fears should not keep my child from experiencing life outside of Georgia.

If anything, this move to California has brought us even closer together though the miles that separate us are great. I’m actually very proud of the fact that she is making it in a very tough place (LA) and is (mostly) off the mom and dad gravy train. As to the question of not seeing each other enough….I have done the math. I spend at least 3 weeks a year (usually 4) with my daughter. 24 hours a day times 21 days = 484 hours. If she lived closer and, for a year, came over every Sunday for dinner and spent three hours at our house that would equal 156 hours. I figure I’m way ahead in quality time with my “California” girl than most parents are with their children that live near to them.

Totally obsessed with the Beverly Hills Hotel bathroon!

I usually trek out west with my sister (her second mom). Believe me, when I say we have a blast. The three of us make very strange bedfellows because of the age difference, but actually we are very amiable traveling companions. Who would have thought someone so much younger than we are would actually WANT to hang out with two ladies “of a certain age”? We have nicknamed ourselves "The Three Amigas" because we are definitely as silly as Short, Chase and Martin and certainly as adventurous.

Santa Monica

We make it a point to take side trips while in LA, which have included Laguna Beach, Santa Barbara, Las Vegas, San Diego, Santa Monica, San Juan Capistrano and even Catalina Island. We have found a place to dance and boogie down in every place we have visited. Could be a dive, could be a disco, or could be a local pub. Doesn’t matter – the three of us live and love to dance. Who do we dance with? What a silly question – each other! I’m sure if my sister and I did not look so much alike we would be 
perceived as lesbians. We could care less.

Laguna Beach

One time, when Annamarie was still in college, the three of us stayed in Laguna Beach for a few nights. She was not yet twenty-one and had some studying to do. So my sis and I went to the local tavern featuring a live band and left her with her books and some quiet time at the hotel.

When we came in at 1:00AM, exhausted from dancing the night away, she was beside herself.

“Where have you two been???? I’ve been so worried!!!! I almost called the police!”

My sis and I just looked at each other and smiled. Payback is hell.

Caesar's Palace

As Annamarie grew older, she was able to join us in our quest for dance music. In Las Vegas we managed to rock Cleopatra’s Floating Barge at Caesar’s Palace. Of course Annamarie had all of the men drooling and vying for her attention. To them, my sis and I were virtually invisible. After a night of observing the ogling and swatting the men away from her, my sister looked at me and said completely straight-faced, “Let’s dump her.” Which led us to fits of hysterical laughter which is how we spend most of our time together – laughing. It’s frickin’ awesome.

Red Rock Canyon - Las Vegas

In Santa Barbara we found a dive of a place with a DJ and shared the dance floor with a Bachelorette Party. They adopted us into their group and we proceeded to dance the night away celebrating the nuptials of a complete stranger. What a riot.

A night of dancing in Santa Barbara

My sister and I are flying out to LA on April 1^st and staying for a week. Our side trip this time will be to Palm Springs and we are already making plans to make this trip memorable. Dancing will definitely be part of the package.

As a parent, you spend your children's beginning years holding them close to you – in your arms, clasped to your chest. Soon it changes to holding their hands as they walk across the street or comforting them when they scrape their knees. As they grow older they may allow you to put an arm around their shoulder or give a daily hug. It’s nature’s way of preparing you for the eventual separation that comes when your child becomes an adult and it all seems to happen at warped speed.

My hope is when I grow older and begin to become feeble and forgetful, my children will hold my hand as they take the role of “teacher” and be patient with me as I was with them when they were learning to read, borrow in subtraction, or learning right from wrong. Maybe someday when my time on earth is coming to a close, they will hold me close to their chest and rock me in their arms as I did them when they were infants. Call it role reversal, coming full circle or whatever you want. One of the biggest regrets in my life is I was not there to do that with my parents in their final days, and they deserved that and much more from me. 

But, until that time in my sister’s and my life arrives, "The Three Amigas" will definitely continue to dance our butts off and spend our time together making priceless memories. Life is good.

P.S. Look for a post with pics from sunny California Easter weekend!

P.P.S. Hey - do you think the gym membership is working?

Motorized Mayhem - Who wants THAT job?

NOT ME!

One of the chapters in my manuscript-in-the-making, Caught in the Middle, is dedicated to the fearless bus drivers that are on the front lines every day. This is just a small excerpt from the beginning of that chapter:

DISCLAIMER: To my middle school colleagues - you really don't look haggard and exhausted. I just took some literary license. However I, on the other hand, most certainly do!

All hail the bus drivers! 

I mean it. Right now – everyone should bow down and praise the men and women who transport these middle school children to and from school five days a week.

In elementary school there may be a few issues on the bus in regards to behavior although it’s mostly kindergartners crying for the first week of school, items lost, or parents that won’t let go at the bus stop. Most of the problems will come from 5^th graders later in the year because ….well… they are becoming middle schoolers.

In high school the routes usually start very early so the students are basically still asleep in the morning. In the afternoon most of them have some sort of sports practice or club meeting to attend so the bus is half empty and the ones that are riding the bus use that time for a catnap. High school kids sleep a lot. Duuuuhhhh!!!! They used up all their energy while they were in middle school which is why 99.99% of all middle school teachers and administrators look the way I do  - haggard and exhausted. 

In our district, the middle school students start school the latest and return home latest in the day compared to the other levels. That means they are WIDE AWAKE in the morning and in RARE FORM by the time the end of the day rolls around. Ask any bus driver. The middle school route is definitely the most difficult and challenging. Students try the drivers’ patience and their sanity. At the end of the school year, if teachers and administrators have twitches and are in need of some serious sedatives, then bus drivers need a rubber room.

And whose idea was it to put 50 adolescents in a moving vehicle with no seat belts, one adult present, and that adult has his or her back turned the entire time? Think about that. That is a recipe for bedlam if I ever saw one. As a first year teacher, one thing you learn immediately is to NEVER turn your back on the little suckers. That's why years ago overhead projectors were created. Brilliant invention. However, bus drivers have no choice. They must keep their eyes on the road at all times and get children to and from school safely while the kids are yelling obscenities, hurling items around the bus, and causing general mayhem. I have often said, and I mean it, you could not pay me enough money to be a bus driver. Bus drivers deserve a medal, better yet a gazillion dollar raise, or minimally a stocked liquor cabinet. I think it's only fair.

I'm always looking for funny anecdotes in regards to our wonderful middle school students. Please share any ideas and stories with me that make you laugh and  I will keep writing!