Summer Camp From Hell

Our five year-old has been looking forward to summr camp for almost two months now.  We searched for a great place...decided to go with the YMCA near my office.  It's a hell of a commute for both of us but my colleagues raved about it.  The price tag was also pretty cha-ching as well.  We would love to keep him home over the summer and do fun stuff however,  due to our never having found a CRAZY OLD BAT exterminator,  too much exposure to the poor old loon would be too much.  So...today was the first and last day at the YMCA. Here is the email I just sent to the camp director...

"Dear Camp Director,

Our son started summer camp today in the five year old group.  When I dropped him off, I was shown where his room was.  I introduced him to the councelor in the room, and then asked what we should do.  We were instructed to hang up his backpack...that's it.  I hung out for a moment and helped him make an introduction to one of his camp-mates and then left him in the camp's care. 

Before I got to my car I was a bit taken aback when I saw my child on the packed playground of children of all ages...looking lost and being pushed aside by much larger children as he tried to climb up the slide.  I stayed for a few moments to observe and thouht that there were way too many children in this space and that the age range was a bit overwhelming (all of the older children swinging and sliding while the younger children stood and watched.) Hoping that my boy and his new friend could find some space to play, I left for work. 

When I arrived to pick him up, the moment he reached me he burst into tears.  He was trying to tell me that he got a red on his swim test.  Knowing that he is in no way a perfectionist,  I was confused as to why he would be upset.   On the long drive home, we talked it out and here is what I believe is the problem...lack of direction.  The poor guy did not know the that the swim test was just that....a test.  He thought that was how swim lessons went (you tell him to get in the pool, make him see if he can tred water, he goes under and then gets taken out of the pool to sit on the side and cry.) He was dreading afternoon swim and cried until he heard the news that it was cancelled.   Additionally, he asked me if he could use his sneakers to get to the pool because he didn't like walking barefeet.  When I asked him why he didn't use his flip flops, he said he couldn't find them.  They were on the bottom of his bag.  No one helped him find them...maybe he didn't ask for help however, a little help from a counselor noticing that he had bare feet would have made a huge difference.

At lunch he ate all his food including his snacks.  So, here too I believe that little if any direction had being given.   No one told him to set his snacks aside because there would be an afternoon snack time.

This child had a very tough day.  He is a smart kid and follows directions well.  I feel like the drop off and pick up were a completly overwhelming experience for him coupled with a sense of being lost throughout.  

Tomorrow, I will be calling on you to speak about this further.  I will walk up to you and introduce myself (this morning you seemed to think my boy was a returning camper so it is safe to say that you don't really know who I am although you are the one who gave us the tour, assured us that the children are well taken care of and then took our money.) "

Feeling extra frazzled today...like I left my poor little five year-old out in the whild to fend for himself. 

Crazy Old Bat Exterminator?

My Mother-in-law has moved in and we now need to exterminate a Crazy Old Bat...does anyone know how I can get in-touch with a bunny by the name of Bugs? 

I have always known that my mother-in-law is crazy but I didn't know she was THIS crazy!  Oh Lord!  

Disclaimer: I love this crazy old lady and therefore reserve the right to rant here on this blog instead to my poor crazy old bat mother-in-law.  The posts here may piss someone off in cyber space but it saves me from upsetting the women who has come to our family for safety and love.  

Approximately six weeks ago, on a rainy and cold evening, my family and I were sitting around playing a game of Uno when my mother-in-law called.  Alarmed that our cyber-granny (who always texts and only calls in an emergency) was ringing my husband's cell, we knew what was to come next was not going to be good.  Expecting a call about plumbing gone awry or some sort of household emergency, we were shocked to hear a frantic old bat on the other end.  "I tripped over the dog and my leg snapped in half!" What was to come after this was a whirlwind of quick and emotional decisions that left my family in chaos.  Here is the exhausting list of events that followed that phone call:

• A mad dash to my mother next door (you know, the one fighting cancer) for an emergency babysitting session. 
• A few calls to 911 (since the crazy old bat called us and not 911)
• She wanted to wait until we got there first so we could put the dog away --- WE LIVE OVER AN HOUR AWAY! --- I later found out that she was afraid that her dog would be shot by the police if she (the dog) acted aggressively towards any of the rescue personnel   
• A 90+ mile an hour race to her house in the rain, through construction and traffic which left me with white knuckles and my heart in my throat 
• A frantic run up her 14  front steps to find her dog safely away and her house empty (EMTs got to her before we could ---because WE LIVE OVER AN HOUR AWAY!)
• A dash to the ER (thankfully, only a few blocks away)
• A search to find her in a very large city hospital
• A long sit-with in an ER cubical filled with arguments back and forth between my husband and my mother-in-law about how she has not been able to care for herself, her large three story house nor her large dog. 
• The news that she had snapped her femur completely in half and shattered her knee and that she is in for a surgery and a long road to recovery. 

Lots of stressful questions came after this discovery:

• Who will take care of my dog?
• Our son is highly allergic
• Where will I go to recover when the hospital and rehab let me go?
• How will I go back to my house?

Lots of heartbreaking confessions came next (most-likely due to the mega painkillers you would imagine one would be administered from snapping your largest bone in half):

• Her inability to care for her dog (who had been doing her business in the downstairs family room for months)
• Her inability to keep up with her home (dust inches thick, filthy upstairs bathrooms, rugs matted with dog fur)
• Her inability to navigate her three story row home, complete with over thirty steps between the street and her bedroom
• Her shopping addiction with television shopping networks leaving her with little or no food to eat
• Her fear of being alone, living alone and dying alone

From all of this, a lot of stressful decisions were made:

• My husband would have to put her house on the market, after lots of work of course! 
• The dog needed a new home, took a week but we found her a great new home.
• Heartbreak for the old bat but heaven for the dog who now goes on regular walks and gets plenty of attention.
• The old bat was going to have to come to live with us in our 900 square feet abode until her house sells and we can find her safe, one floor living.  Not to mention the fact that she needs to be cared for while she cant walk.  

Tough spot all around, for every party involved including our son who lost his room and is bunking with his parents...lame!

Now, there is light at the end of this cauldron filled  tunnel.  Her old bat headquarters of a house will eventually sell and then she will eventually move to another location.  EVENTUALLY.  In the meantime, there is a crazy old bat in my house and I need an exterminator.  She talks to herself constantly.  At night, so that she doesn't wake us, she whispers to herself...loudly.  As soon as I start to fall asleep, the ominous whispering starts. Eventually she does fall asleep, then I fall asleep.  Alas, soon after (usually around 2 or 3 AM) my cell phone rings.  Can you guess who it is? Yep!  It's the crazy old bat.  Sometimes she calls to ask me to take her to the bathroom.  The bathroom calls do not upset me.  When you gotta go, you gotta go.  I get that.   What does get me is when she calls me to ask me if I have noticed lately if my dishes aren't as clean as they should be or to inquire if I am OK because she thought she heard a noise.  

She also likes to interact inappropriately with my son, letting him know that his daddy's daddy didn't love him or that she had been married four times to two beaters and two cheaters....she tells this to a FIVE YEAR OLD!  Who says this to anyone? If you guessed, crazy old bat, you guessed right. 

All of this comes with the perks of being the only other lady in the house which means...you guessed it...I get  to bathe her.  Ah the bliss of scrubbing down a crazy old bat while her hair pins are swirling around my bathroom (another Bugs reference).  My bathroom, my very tiny bathroom which is now outfitted with a shower seat, potty chair, packs and packs of disposable underwear (which she insists on keeping next to the toilet, not one pack but ALL OF THEM).   I will hold back all of the really nasty parts of all of this since I am not ranting to humiliate her.  She had a lot of health issues prior to the leg break.  Her health was, to say the least, atrocious.  Her inability to walk just rockets us past atrocious and to a vocabulary word that I do not have access to due to my lack of Doctorate level education.  

I know I need to be patient and let this thing play out but, if I could just employ the services of a smart little bucked toothed bunny who can " La dah dah dee la dah dah dah dah Abracadabra"  her out of her, I would be eternally grateful.

Do I Have Enough Bucks, Mommy?

This morning I was scrapping together quarters to get a cup of coffee on the way into the office.  In our current financial situation, I hardly ever buy coffee.  We have it for free at the office so; I don’t take on the additional expense.  However, this morning, I had to train a few co-workers in one of our India offices.  With the time difference being so great, I volunteered to start the training at 5:30 am , my time.  What was I thinking?  I did the training from home and finished just in time for our son to wake up and order his breakfast.  After getting him his eggs and toast, sprinting through the shower and jumping into my clothes, I started to search for coffee money.  I was exhausted and needed a little something to get me thru the hour commute to the office.  My son said that he had some quarters in his piggy bank.  I told him that he was sweet but that money was for him.  He shrugged his shoulders and went back to sipping his juice and watching his morning shows.  Once my husband was out of the shower and had eyes on the boy, I jetted out the door with my dollar fifty in change.  Once in the car, I realized that I had another fifty cents in the door handle compartment.  SCORE!  I was able to get a piping hot pumpkin spice coffee to get me to work.

When I got home tonight, my son came to me with his play wallet.  He was holding it in his little 4 year old hands, tapping on it and asking, “Mommy, do you think I have enough bucks in here to buy you a coffee?”  I welled up immediately.  What an amazing boy.

Humiliation at Work, Anyone?

Friday: Meeting in the boss’ office. 

My boss and I and one other team member in attendance. We decide the particulars to present in an upcoming meeting between our department and another department. We also decide that I am going to present these particulars.

Monday: Meeting between departments.

Key members of both departments are present. As planned, I take the stage (in the form of a whiteboard and expo marker).  I begin to present, as planned.  I expected the other department members to offer up some resistance since we were basically setting out a ton of requirements and design work to be done in a compact amount of time. (Resistance which I got right away.)  Again, I expected it so it was easy to deal with. What I didn’t expect was the resistance from my boss!  She seemed confused and frustrated with me as if I was writing and speaking in another language.  At one point she walked right up to me, grabbed the marker out of my hand and said, “May I?” She then proceeded to cross out the words and diagrams I had put on the board…words and diagrams that we had agreed to on Friday…words and diagrams I reviewed over the weekend to make sure I got it right.

As I stand off to the side of the whiteboard and watch her to continue to cross out my work and redraw (the exact same things I drew), one of the members of the opposing department asked why she was doing that and why didn’t we just look at what Frazzled Cheese (that’s me) drew. My boss’ answer?  “We are not going with what SHE presented and I am not sure why we are talking about that!”

At this point I decide to sit down and just let her go at it.  She turned an already hostile meeting into an all-out bullying session.  She told the other department what we expected from them in a disorganized fashion, held back expectations from them that we had agreed to the Friday prior (I guess she will sneak attack them with this information at a later date?) and continued to berate them for not getting this work done when she was in the initial stages of making the first request. (I liken this latter tactic to yelling at the plumber for not fixing your pipes as you are making the appointment…cart before horse, anyone?) She was particularly nasty to the only female member of the opposing department by shushing her, cutting her off and making statements like, “I can assure you that you are wrong”. 

After the meeting, my boss turned to me and said, “Sorry I had to be harsh, you have to be straight with these guys and make them do what you want them to do.”  She didn’t say that she was sorry she was being harsh to me…just harsh in general I guess.  I just laughed it off as if it didn’t bother me as a defense mechanism.  I wanted to tell her she was out of line and totally just treated everyone in that room, including me; like we are all idiots and she is the only competent one in the entire company. I also wanted to warn her not to burn bridges with members of this department since we actually need a fair to large amount of work out of them if we are to be successful.  And, let’s be honest…I also wanted to ask her who she thinks she is to treat me like?

When I returned to my desk, the female member of the opposing department was already pinging me. She was laughingly competing with me to see who my boss treated worse during that entire debacle. We both agreed that I won and was thrown the fastest under the heaviest bus, most likely a double-decker with tons of horse power.  

While I was driving home, I was talking to my husband who was talking me down from giving my boss a piece of my mind.  He reminded me that I actually like my job; I am pretty good at it, receive a lot of accolades from numerous colleagues and have the fortunate situation of doing something that I am not only good at but get satisfaction out of doing. He also reminded me how broke we are and that if nothing else, we need the healthcare for our family.

So, I shall swallow my (Pride? No; not pride.) applaudedness? (think I just made up a word) and just keep on going and hope that the other department will see through her insecurities and hostility to the requirements that we laid out so that we can have a successful project roll-out.  Here’s hoping!

I am half pig and half thief!

Tomorrow is my son’s forth birthday.  Every time someone has a birthday in his daycare class, he reports with glee that they had cupcakes to celebrate. The cupcakes are provided by the parents, of course and are served as an afternoon snack.  Along with the snack, they sing the daycare version of “Happy Birthday” with the ‘cha-cha-cha’ between verses.  Nothing tickles him more than to report that it was one of his classmate’s birthdays and all the goings on during afternoon snack to celebrate.  And, every time he reports another birthday, he asks me if we will bring in cupcakes for his birthday.  And, of course, every time, I answer with a resounding “yes, baby!”

Well, my husband and I have been having a lot of financial difficulty lately.  Our financial picture looks like this: our income – outgoing monies = a big negative.  As soon as I get paid, all of my bills are paid immediately. I have to rely on my husband scraping together gas money for me just to get to work and back.  I can never eat out for lunch.  I repeat; I can never eat out for lunch.  This is not something that I can afford.  I don’t mean that I can’t afford it because it will take money away from my retirement savings or a discretionary fund. I mean, I can’t afford it because I just don’t have it.

The last time my husband gave me some cash for gas, I held back ten dollars because I knew this special birthday was coming.  I was hoping to work from home a day or two to save on gas and make the ten spot stretch its way thru a pack of mini cupcakes for his class and a little something special to put a candle in after dinner so we could make a big deal out of his special day.

Here is where it all went awry.  Yesterday, my boss was particularly rude to myself and another colleague in a pretty tense meeting.  This colleague and I both received an invitation via outlook for lunch late this morning.  We both chatted about our suppositions as to why she wanted to have lunch with us at a nearby eatery (prices are a little more than 15 a head for lunch on average).  Her knowing that I have been on a very tight budget, we decide that she must be treating us to lunch to apologize for treating us so badly in the meeting previously mentioned.  (More on this in another post.)

The entire lunch goes by without mention of her bad behavior. She fills the conversation with what all three of us have in common, motherhood.  When the check comes, she reaches into her purse, pulls out a twenty, places it into the check folder and hands it to my colleague. My colleague gives me a slight look and then puts in her twenty.  It is now my turn to make the awkward move of taking out my ear-marked ten and embarrassingly state, “This is all I have, will it cover the balance?” My colleague offers to put in more for me so that my boss will get change back but, my boss said it was fine and we were all set.  This embarrassment is nothing in comparison to the guilt I feel from spending my son’s birthday treat money on a lunch that I didn’t want to have in the first place.

I am in no way blaming my boss for this.  I should have checked the subject of the email appointment.  Typically, when she treats she expense the lunch.  She also specifies in the subject of the meeting that it will be a working lunch.  When I got back to my desk, there it was in the subject, “just catching up”.  Should have paid better attention!  Should have passed on the lunch and just ate the tiny can of tuna I packed.

I have searched the house and, nothing! I don’t have anything to bake, no cookies to pass out…nothing.  The best I can come up with is a pack of stickers that he can give out and hope that he is excited about it. He is such a good kid, always very grateful for what he is given. But I know he wanted cupcakes.  And now he can’t have cupcakes or even a little sweet treat with a candle in it after dinner because his mother made a selfish decision at lunch time. And that is why I am half pig and half thief. I stole his birthday treat money and then ate it in the form of a ham sandwich and fries.

Cause and Effect, Part Deux

Here we go again!  I couldn’t make it to my mother’s Tuesday appointment at the oncology clinic so I sent in a sub.  Now, we already know that it is trouble when we a non-blood relative is sent to pinch-hit.  I should have seen this coming. 

One of the prophylactic drugs that my mom needs is extremely expensive.  It actually costs three thousand dollars for a month’s supply and is not covered by her medical insurance. She is in the process of working with a social worker to try to get some sort of assistance with the cost of the drug.  When she doesn’t take this medication, a fungal infection takes over her respiratory system and inevitably turns into pneumonia. Pneumonia is always a hospital stay and is always life-threatening.  Long story short, she needs this medication. 

The staff at the clinic has been able to supply my mother with a thirty day supply to get her started but, we have just about reached the end of the thirty days.  Unfortunately, we have yet to secure funding assistance for this drug so; the clinic has generously offered another thirty day supply.  So, back to my husband covering for me at yesterday’s appointment.

Mom is always irritated when we go to the clinic.  She doesn’t understand why she has to be there so long (as if cancer has a drive-thru treatment).  She is a diabetic and should always have a snack and her insulin with her but, never does.  She has stated over and over that the visits should be quicker and she shouldn’t have to bring supplies.  (I guess she thinks that being mad at the cancer will make it go away?) So, she is getting to the end of the visit but the Nurse Practitioner is not coming out to see her.  Mom, has been told by the doctor and the nurse that the Nurse Practitioner has the medication in her pocket and will hand it to my mom as soon as she gets done seeing another patient.  So, what do you think my mother does at this point?

A rational human being would sit down and wait for the NP to come and see her.  My mother decides that she has been there long enough and tells my husband that she is ready to go.  Now, hubby is no dope and is aware that mom is one of the bad kids so, he asks her to just wait a minute and goes to the desk to see how long it will be until the NP will come out. When the receptionist tells him that she is hung up with a patient, my mother (who was eavesdropping) throws her hands up in the air and storms out. 

Now, here is where I would have done something differently.  I would have told her to storm out if she wanted but I was going to wait for the medication.  She would have gotten on the elevator and probably just waited for me in the lobby.  Unfortunately, hubby is concerned that she will wonder out into the big bad city and will have to explain how he lost my mother, never to be seen again.  So, he follows her and is conned into taking her home because she has three pills left and she can pick up the meds on Friday, three days away.   Here is where she is super devious!  Yes, she had three pills and there were three days until she returned to the clinic but, what she  left out is that she has to take the medication TWICE A DAY!

Cause: Mom decided that is was not worth an additional ten minutes

Effect: My father (her ex-husband and a co-senior citizen) had to travel all the way downtown to fetch the medication, I was late for work and my son had to witness me making mother cry when I was reading her the riot-act and asking her why she pulls this crap with our spouses.  

Cause and Effect

How do we get here?  We are the sandwich generation, some say.  So at the same time that I am teaching my three year how cause and effect works, I am also re-teaching my mother the same theory.  To the child it is simple.  Cause: Not putting your shoes on.  Effect: You can’t go outside to play.  To the older parent it is just about as complicated as string theory. 

Every Tuesday and Friday, my mother must report to the oncology clinic for either treatment or tests or appointments (or any combo of the three).  My mother needs someone to accompany her as it is a long drive and she doesn’t have the stamina or even wherewithal to make the drive alone.  As a matter of fact, she would probably get lost and end up in the ghetto even though she not only grew up but worked in the city for most of her adult life. 

My younger brother and I have split the responsibility in half.  I have Tuesdays and he has Fridays.  The first time he substituted his Friday with his wife, I should have expected that there would be trouble. You see, my mom will always put up a fight but seldom gets away with things when she is dealing with her children. (That’s what she gets for teaching us not to take any crap from anyone.)  Others feel bad for her and let her cheat.  And, let’s face it, cheaters never prosper.

Ok so, sister-in-law takes mom to clinic one Friday in my brother’s stead for labs and a checkup.  During this visit, my mother is told that her blood pressure is a little high.  My mother responds with, “Oh, I have blood pressure medication I can take.”  The nurse looks through her records and does not see any blood pressure medication.  My mother is referring to an old prescription, one that is pre-cancer and pre-oncologist.  The nurse asks my mom to not take the old prescription as it may not gel with the numerous cancer and prophylactic meds she is currently on.  Then the doctor comes to examine her and reiterates the same message, “Your pressure is a little high.”  My mom responds with the same, “I have blood pressure medication I can take.” The doctor asks her not to take the old medication.  On her way out of each appointment, the Oncologist’s Nurse Practitioner likes to see my mom to go over all of her instructions and upcoming appointments and treatments.  During this review, she reiterates that my mom’s pressure is a little high but she is NOT to take the old blood pressure medication. Once my sister-in-law dropped my mom off at home, she reported all of this to me over the phone.  I then called my mom and said, ”Whatever you do, don’t take that old blood pressure medication.”

That evening, I check on my mom and, what do I find?  … My mother laying on the couch looking like she got run over by a truck.  When I inquire what is wrong with her, she confesses that she indeed took the blood pressure medication because she was afraid of her pressure going too high.  All she had to do was…NOTHING!  Instead she took a medication that caused her blood pressure to go through the floor. 

As I was calling the clinic to inform them of what my mom had done, she excused herself to the bathroom.  Just as I am hanging up I her say from inside the bathroom, “I think I’m gonna” and before she can get the word faint out of her mouth she literally poured out of the bathroom and onto the hallway floor.  Lifeless, my mother is lying on the floor.  My toddler, who was with me for the visit, is stunned as I am yelling at my mom to answer me and as I am calling 911.

It is very fortuitous that my mother and I live on the same street so that my husband could come and get our pour boy but not after he had learned that mom-mom had peed her pants.  (Funny the things that resonate.)

Cause: taking a medication that she is told NOT to take

Effect: A ride in an ambulance, trip to the ER, missed work by myself and my brother for spending time at the ER with her late night, one broken wrist, additional trips to additional doctors for x-rays, a cast, follow-up x-rays, a little boy who is afraid that he might fall and pee his pants and break his hand (ok, I am sure he will get over that one soon), and not being able to write with that big-ass cast on her right hand.

At least I got to sign her cast with, “Dope” in big blue letters.