A very busy Saturday…
Yes, I am fully aware that it is now Monday and I’m just now writing, but I was still tossing and turning over the idea of putting this at the Parenting Teens Blog where I seem to do most of my writing about family anymore, or here. In the end, I decided here, because she’s not a teen, and it is family, and well, not like I do so good posting here often anyway, right? Right.
Whatever the reason – here we go.
The Pup has been working hard for the past few weeks to get ready for her very first Swim meet – a meet that was held Saturday, in Seward. Which meant that I had to -a- beg Nana to drive since my car’s heater is useless and the car would probably fall apart halfway there and -2- get up at OMG-early in order to get the pup at the pool at the prescribed 9am.
Nine.
AM.
IN THE MORNING.
Which meant we needed to leave at 6:30 am.
IN THE MORNING.
As you know, i don’t do mornings so well. Despite the Pup’s insistence that she couldn’t sleep at ALL because she was NERVOUS OMG MOM WHAT IF… she of course was out like a light within 5 minutes of head hitting pillow. After I had talked her down, AND her Auntie had talked her down AND we repacked her bag for the fifth time. She was a little nervous, that’s all.
Me? I decided that sleep was something OTHER people do, as has been known to happen now and again. Don’t get me wrong, I tried, I did! But alas, my body and mind had other plans, and when the alarm went off at 5:15am, I’d logged about 1.5 hours of sleep. Oh. Goody.
So we were off – we’d packed and double checked and gotten snacks and things together for the day trip. A stop for REAL coffee, and we were off and on our way to Seward. The pup, naturally, slept part of the way, while Nana and I chattered and kept each other awake in the dark. Not quite as difficult as you’d think since we almost hit a moose before we’d even made it completely out of town. Nothing like a brush with big hairy nostrils to wake you RIGHT up, right? Right.
We arrived in one piece, and at the pool, the Pup’s nervousness was in full force. It didn’t help that Auntie wasn’t there yet, nor was anyone from her team. It was further compounded when we were on the phone with Auntie and giving her the directions to find the school, and we found out that Coach Luke had car trouble, and Auntie Jen would be coach until he got there. While the pup adores her Auntie, Coach Luke was sort of the rock she’d decided she could cling to for the whole day – the coach HAD to be there, because OMG mom what if she had a QUESTION and Auntie didn’t know the ANSWER what would she DO?
Well, what she would do is what we had her done did. (Hurray for proper English!) Get dressed, let Auntie handle the Coach prep, and get into the pool for warmups when it was time. And for gods sake child, quit running into your teammates in the lane! Pick a side! (And if you don’t quit flirting with M, I’m gonna… well. Tease you until you pout. Heh.)
Thank heavens, Coach Luke arrived soon after. HURRAY! He and Auntie got all the coach stuff squared away It was Coach Luke’s first meet to be in charge of, as well. 
(Coach Will had a hernia surgery and for some reason thought that he needed a gazzillion hours off. What? I mean _I_ had 4 abdominal surgeries and I didn’t take 2 weeks off! Also didn’t have a job, but kids. WHATEVER. Wuss.)
What I’m trying to say is that Coach Luke was a little bit of a nervous wreck too. But they got it all together, and the Pup even got a little one on one instruction – which started out by her yelling COACH LUKE! YOU’RE HERE! HI!! As much as the kids SWEAR he’s not their favorite… well. Likewise, as much as he SWEARS he will drown them all… you get the idea.
The meet got underway with a teenager playing the national anthem on the electric guitar (….) and then it was off to the races. Literally. Of our group – Niece, nephews and Pup – the wee lil Ladybug was the first to swim. This isn’t her first meet, so she was only a LITTLE nervous, Auntie, but she swam fabulously as she did her 25 Backstroke. (Auntie will have all their times on her youtube soon. You can also see the pup’s races for Auntie’s point of view, which was closer then mine.) Then it was DMan’s turn, and Bug’s turn, then my Ladybug again, and THEN…
Deep breath, Pup – it was time for her to swim her very first race. It was the 50yd Backstroke – and I was glad that was first, as backstroke is her favorite. And here she is – she’s in the lane at the top of the screen
(Ignore the loud screaming woman. We know she’s crazy. Though we don’t know who she is. Or that she looks just like that crazy woman that lives in my mirror.):
She’s also the ONLY one of her heat that used the starting block bar to start. She’s DETERMINED to do it the ‘right’ way. It was also her first time ever stating with the starting gun sound, so she hesitated a little bit. She did NOT come in last, the girl in the lane closest that you can’t see in the video was a full 2 seconds slower the my girl! The Pup finished with a very respectable first time ever 50 yard backstroke time of: 1:18:20.
Whew. One race down, one to go. Time to wait. Again.
We doled out snacks, and water, and kept them warm, and watched as the other swimmers swam, then Bug did a KILLER breaststroke, knocking a full 30 seconds off his previous time last season. He then did the 100yd IM, and lost his goggles on the start, which made him mad. He fought through and finished though, so he made US proud. But he was mad. Heh. This of course, brought up a whole new level of fear in the Pup. I kept telling her “Point A to point B to Point C. That’s all you have to do. If you lose your goggles, keep going. You’ll be FINE.” to which she replied “YOU DON’T KNOW THAT MOM! GAWD!” Then they made faces at me.
Yeah. She was a little nervous. And then… she couldn’t find her goggles, and we had to steal one of the extra pairs from Auntie’s bag. We got them fitted, and checked and she was pretty sure they’d be OK. Then, all to soon, it was her turn again. This time, the 50yd Freestyle. She was again, the only of her heat to use the starting block. And I’m going to explain what happened next before you see the video, so you can tell what’s going on through all our screaming. Or you know, the screaming of that crazy woman I don’t know. Heh.
She lost her goggles on the start. They didn’t go all the way down to below her chin, but instead were stuck across her nose/mouth. What we didn’t know was that she had problems breathing – she told us afterwards that she held her breath almost that whole first 25 yds. She powered through, then midstroke was able to pull the goggles down around her neck, and finished the first 25, with us yelling encouragement like crazy. She turned and headed back, and halfway across the pool started to tread water – she knew to touch the bottom would be an automatic DQ, and she was fighting to get her breath. Auntie finally caught her eye, and demonstrated a backstroke, and I was yelling to flip to her back as well – contrary to popular belief, Freestyle is not that specific stroke everyone uses because it’s fast, but it means you can use ANY style to swim it. So, with the encouragement, she flipped to her back, and was able to finish the race. Again, she’s at the top of the screen:
You can also see while she’s treading water the lifeguard was starting to get up. She told us afterward she was about to dive in after her. The whole room was cheering for her as she finished, and despite the fact she burst into tears and cried on Auntie a while before coming to cry on me too (and I wasn’t in tears. visibly.) she was able to say thank you when a couple of kids from other teams came over to encourage her and tell her good job. One of the officials stopped her too, to assure her that she had not disqualified, that she’d done really well and kept her head and he was pleased with how well she handled herself in a scary situation. Oh yeah – her time was 1:48:22.
So, after the pup, there was one more race for Bug, and we were free to go. We got the kids showered, dressed, then the pup, Nana and I grabbed some lunch before taking that nice long drive again. I managed to stay awake. The pup slept off and on. Nana too – but she woke up when I said something about HEY! THAT’S THE DITCH! – ok, not really. *L* We both managed to stay awake, get home and gather kids and dog and stuff and I collapsed for a 2 hour nap before I was awake to deal with kids a bit, then to burrowed into bed for a LOVELY 10 hours or so of sleep.
Thus! We officially have the first meet under our belts, and looking forward to the one in January, where the pup will kick the HELL out of her freestyle time, I’m sure.
Point A to Point B to Point C. And she’ll be FINE.
Turns out I know what I’m talking about after all.
August 26, 2005
It’s been three and a half years, and I still cry. Not all the time, not as often, not always when expected or for the same triggers as the last time, but I do. I cry. I hate to cry – yet still… sometimes, you just can’t do anything about it.
Kevin worked on “The Slope” as we call it, for one of the oil companies drilling along the northern edge of Alaska. It was a dream job – everyone wants to get on, and you have to know someone who knows someone who’s sleeping with their wife’s cousins’ dog groomer in order to get on. Kevin worked his way up there, and was the Breakfast cook, working the graveyard shift and feeding the hungry workers through the night, for three weeks at a time. He’d then be home for 2 weeks, before returning for another shift.
Some folks aren’t made to be Slope Wives – I am. I loved having him home and concentrating on the kids, and also loved him being at work where I had the run of the household. We made enough money to get by, though it was never an extreme excess, despite it being a well paying job. We got by – we had enough.
And so it goes…
I’ve been thinking of opening this website for some time now. I had run it by one of my jobs, and while they were interested, it hasn’t been quick in coming, and you know how it is with us writers – once we have something to write, we need to write it. There’s simply no ifs, ands or buts about it. It needs to be let out, and let out now.
And so, Widow Speak is born. Named so because I am a widow, I’m speaking, and the fact that it slurs into widows peak makes me laugh. Yes, I’m easily amused – what else is new?
This is our story – mine and Kevin’s and the kids, together and separately. Maybe, some day, the kids will read this and discover something they wanted to know, something they hoped never to find out (after all, I am THAT kinda mom) something that brings theme even closer to the memory of the father they adored.
I won’t promise to write every day. I won’t promise to write every week. I will, however, promise to write. The store will be told. I will tell it. You will read it. You will like it. Or you won’t – either way, it’s a journey only just begun…
It's Christmas – pass the rum!
So, drinking has been on my mind the past few days, which isn’t so surprising because “the facts are these..” (SOB! How could they cancel Pushing Daisies?!): Christmas Vacation starts in just over a week, and that means all the kids will be home, with various of their friends, and it’s ALSO -3 degrees out there right now and a hot toddy sounds REALLY GOOD, and it’s been 3 years, 4 months, 5 days and 16 hours since I last got my drunk on.
No, I’m not in recovery or anything like that, I just don’t go out anymore, and getting drunk alone at home sort of crosses that line from recluse to crazy cat woman a little too easily for my comfort. That’s not to suggest my teenagers haven’t driven me to drink, just that it takes too much effort to actually get gussied up and hit the too expensive bars, or to bundle up in the cold to hit the stores.
Yes. I’m not a drunk because I am THAT lazy. 🙂
Anyway, it likely won’t surprise you that my talks with my kids about drinking and drugs run along the same lines as our sex talks do – irreverent, yet informative, with copious amounts of tequila with a bit of weed on the side. Oh stop, I’m just kidding. About the informative part. (Oh come on, ya’ll know me better then that!)
You see, when I was growing up, I was the absolute epitome of the good girl. (I’ll wait for you to stop laughing. All better? Thanks, mom.) I didn’t drink or smoke – anything – at all while I was growing up and through high school. I think a lot of that had to do with my Dad’s attitude about it – if I wanted to try a beer, ask him and he’d let me. Same with a glass of wine. As long as it was at home, with my parents in attendance. I tell you, there’s no better way to curtail someone’s desire for a bad habit so much as hearing “Sure, you can have a beer. Sit there next to your mom.” from your parents. As if I weren’t ‘uncool’ enough, drinking with my PARENTS?! Yeah. That wouldn’t help at ALL. So I didn’t. I never even really felt the urge to, either. It just seemed like too much bother.
That’s not to say that I didn’t drink before I was of legal age – I did. AFTER I moved out, and ALWAYS with the knowledge that if I couldn’t drive, or the people I was with couldn’t drive, I could call my dad and he’d come get me. Sure, he wouldn’t be exactly HAPPY about getting up at o’God-thirty to come find me, but that option was always there. Just as it is for my kids. And their friends. (Like the one I picked up this morning because she was going to walk in -3 degree weather, without a coat, with high heels. INORITE? Another story, another time.) I drank a bit, then stopped when I had kids, and I tried weed the first time when I was 31 years old.
Yes. Thirty-One.
So I knew what it takes to resist the peer pressure, and how to find those friends that won’t pressure at all. (Honestly? Hang with the stoners. They don’t care if YOU don’t indulge, as long as you don’t care if they DO.) That’s the same hope I had with my own kids – that I could raise them to feel the same way about it all as I did. Moderation, careful consideration, and for goddsake leave mom’s stash alone! (..ahem.)
When it came time to talk to my kids about drinking and drugs – though to be honest I don’t remember a specific conversation, it as just something always there and openly discussed – My husband and I took the same route. If you want to try something bad enough, ask us. Now, my kids, being the stubborn little brats that they are, DID ask. One sniff of tequila and it never made it to their lips. A little taste of beer was enough to wrinkle the nose and have me laughing at the looks on their faces, since I don’t like beer either. They never asked after that, and they haven’t even considered doing anything else, either. Trust me – I can smell pot a mile away, on someone who was simply in the next apartment building over, getting it 4th hand. I know.
When my husband died, we had a good old fashioned Irish Wake, complete with a keg, many bottles of many things, and probably (ok, most certainly) some fine Alaskan weed too. I didn’t monitor the boy and his friend, both of whom were 13 at the time. Well, I was watching them, but I didn’t count the sips they were most assuredly stealing from the keg, or the fact that my Strawberry Jack Daniels always had a couple swallows missing when it got to me. I watched them, and made sure they were safe, but I didn’t stop them. It was an Irish Wake. It was a time to mourn and celebrate Dad, in a way that would make him proud. We had MANY people at the campsite who were sober and taking care of us all, so it was a safe environment.
And the boys’ hangovers the next day? TOTALLY worth it. Even if they STILL deny they had that much to drink. Liars. 🙂
On the way home, after I’d made sure to bang a couple things real loud, accidentally of course, we had a talk. And we made a deal. After they realized I wasn’t angry that they were swiping, both boys opened up and we had a frank discussion about it, and why I allowed it that night – and then we hammered out the terms of our deal. They had their taste, they had their fun. If they steered completely clear of alcohol (and weed was certainly implied – though not specified.) until they were 21, I would find a way to take them to Vegas to celebrate their birthday in style – no chaperoning, just me along to pour them into their beds at dawn, and make sure they didn’t do something totally stupid. And to take many blackmail pictures, of course. Both boys thought this was a FANTASTIC idea, and the bargain was struck.
A bargain they’ve both kept, 100% to this day. In fact, when they ask if they can have a sip of my girly beer, I hand them the bottle. “Go ahead. It’ll save me money in the long run.” They always hand it back, that damning sip un-taken. The boy wants to go to Vegas. And I will be more the pleased to pony up the dough to take them there.
I guess my point is – don’t be afraid to talk with your kids before it’s too late. If you are open and honest and NOT damning them for even considering it, they’ll react rationally, and probably surprise you. Dare to be open with you kids, dare to be different and find a tactic that works for you both. Most of all – TALK TO THEM. I’ve said it a million times, and it’s still my number one go to rule for surviving teenagerhood. TALK TO THEM. You might be surprised what you find out, and I know for a fact, you won’t be sorry you took the time.
Give a kid a boost!
Since we’re talking about confessions (what? weren’t we?) I thought I’d toss another one on the pile, lest you think my family is perfect. Weird, but perfect. Because we’re totally not – perfect that is. Weird we most certainly are. ANYWAY.
When I was growing up, I was expected to get good grades, I was expected to shoulder the burden of A’s and B’s and be happy about it, dammit. For the most part, after I hit 9th grade and realized HOLY CRAP I’ve only got 4 years to make up for all the slacking off I’ve been doing the past 8 years, I put my nose to the grindstone, my pedal to the metal, and buckled down and finished with a 3.64 GPA. Yes, I know it’s not perfect. There was this little matter of a Science Fiction extra credit class that spent a whole semester on the book DUNE which I did and still do hate with a passion. 3 extra credit projects brought my final grade to a D so that I could graduate. Heh. Mom is still not happy about that, though my 3.99 GPA for my bachelor’s degree a few years back took away most of the sting. I think. Maybe.
My sister, on the other hand, didn’t take so well to school. They PAID her for all her A’s because she had to work so hard for them. Not that I didn’t work hard, but WHATEVER. She’s the baby, spoiled and everything. (that groan you just heard was my mother telling me to build a bridge and get over it. *L* Fortunately, I have been for years – but it makes for good blog fodder to pretend, right? Right!) Even so, I began to have a bit more sympathy when my kids started showing signs they were more like their dad and aunt then me when it came to buckling down and slogging through schoolwork.
All of my kids got a rough start reading, but once they were able to flip that understanding switch, there’s no way to get a book OUT of their hands. Of course, that doesn’t mean they remember to turn in their reading logs, which is why the grades are so low. Some things come easier to one kid then another – The Girl has an inate understanding for math and how it all works together, as well as how to write a paper with her eyes closed – while the boy would rather gouge his eyes out with a metal spork then tackle a language arts project, and sure he’s GOOD at Math, but doesn’t see the use in it at all. Foods class, however, he excels at. Go figure. The pup is champion for reading all the time, but forgetting her reading logs, while she struggles a bit with math and getting her mind to work fast enough for the math facts computer program she’s fallen behind on.
In short, they’re all typical kids, who struggle at times, and excel at others. This year the boy wanted to take matters into his own hands, take responsibility, so I’m not riding him as hard as I used too, only asking on occasion. Of course, if he fails his Junior Year, there will be hell to pay, but he understands that. The Girl has been doing extracurricular activities so has to keep her grades up, so she’s doing well. The pup is struggling a bit, but trying hard, which is really all I ask of her. We’re a normal family, with normal frustrations.
Some kids aren’t so lucky, and have even added pressures to face. Did you know that 4 out of every 10 teenagers will drop out of high school? That’s a very large number, and you know that even more have considered doing the exact same thing. My own son has – he simply doesn’t see the point. It’s a hard lesson to learn, that sometimes, we don’t ever see the point of something necessary in order to open doors in the future. He keeps slogging through though, as he knows that I care, AND I expect it. Despite what he says, he DOES care.
There are others that care, too. In fact, thanks to the lovely Lisa contacted me about her client The Ad Council, to let me know of their new campaign: BoostUp. BoostUp aims to encourage students to stick with school, to think about before dropping out. They have 11 kids in the campaign, and you can give them – or a kid you know – encouragement in several different ways. You know, give them a “Boost”! Even better, you can send them wake-up ringtones. (Ha! I don’t think my kids’ favorite ringtone would be very uplifting, for all the WAKEUP-ness it elicits. Hee.)
Right now, the BoostUp campaign is trying to get as many “Boosts” as possible to their kids, and others by adults who have been there, done that – as well as from encouraging friends and family. BoostUp.org includes the means to give the Boosts, the ringtones – and also a lot of information for parents and teenagers who are looking for information, signs to look for in your teens who may be considering dropping out, and things that you can do to help. The site is fun, colorful, and interactive of course. In fact, I’m on the way there right now to leave a Boost for all of their kids. Won’t you do the same?
