Liam's Forever Family Day 2012

We moved out of our house for the renovation May 26th.  We moved back into our house, and slept in our own beds, last Saturday, September 22nd.  During the summer months, we slept in a couple dozen beds.  Now, we are living simply until construction is completely done inside.   With just mattresses on the floor that we are calling beds, we are sleeping at home.  With a quilt that floats from unfinished room to unfinished room, we are picnicking at home.  With a flurry of activity around the house and construction, it’s alarming how special days are slipping through the cracks. So it’s time to put a pin on the calendar for this week: Liam’s Forever Family Day is Thursday, September 27th.  Six years ago we brought 9-month-old Liam home from South Korea.  And now he’s 48 inches tall.

Liam is the man with a view.  He sees the whole playing field in soccer and in hockey.  He sees the whole chess board.  He sees the whole maze.  To me and my wacky, challenged sense of depth perception, this is amazing.  He sees the whole picture.

Desperate for the hand-held Nintendo DS, which I removed from the house three years ago, Liam has been reading like a trooper since school started.  I told him when he wanted to read as much as he wanted the DS, we would talk about its return but not until fall.  Since August 22nd, I have been reminded that fall is on September 22nd.  Forgetting momentarily about the DS, he looked out the window September 22nd and somberly noted that there weren’t any leaf piles to jump in.

Liam is strong.  Strong.  Strong. Strong.  Strong-willed.  Strong-tempered.  Strong thinker.  Sometimes in my attempt with the “removal of privilege” system, which I KNOW works equally as poorly as the “reward system” with this child, we butt heads.  “Yeah, Mom, I don’t care about that.”  After a conversation this summer with a mom of a similarly wired kid, it clicked: I am Liam's greatest commodity.  And I can’t take me away from him.

In a heated discussion on our way to floor hockey, we were going at it.  When I should bite my tongue, I engage.  It’s like two mountain goats butting heads over a single blade of grass.  With a snarl thrown in my direction – and my return motherly-snarl saying “don’t-snarl-at-me” – Liam runs onto the gym floor.  I stay to watch; Liam has said he doesn’t want me to run errands.  Today, I could use an errand or two to recover from the head butt.

Fifteen minutes into the practice, they start a game using hockey sticks and whiffle balls.  With no protective barriers, the ball flies off walls, benches, and parents.  The ball and six boys come charging toward me.  From the pack, I hear a loud and clear and slightly ferocious warning, “HEY!!  Be careful of my mom!!”

Ahhhh…  Glad I didn’t run errands.

Much is the same, yet much has changed since Liam's 2010 Forever Family Day.

Hello from The Black Bra Inn

Good Morning from the lobby (aka: our living room) at the Black Bra Inn... Liam & I have been here since 5 a.m.  Liam and our next door neighbor were having coughing fits.  Liam's was from allergies.  Thank goodness for Netflix on my computer... That leaves me pecking away on.my phone.

We are only days away from sleeping in our house!  Yesterday l saw trash cans along a street.  They made me homesick; soon we will be putting our own trash out.

Hotel staffers know my name.  To my face they call me "Linda.". I have to wonder if privately they use a qualifier:  "You know, the black-bra woman who's usually in the lobby at the 5 a.m. Shift change?"

meanwhile at the house, our mattress and bed springs have returned to our bedroom.  The stacked pair looks like a squatter holding firm for our imminent return.  We are waiting for the floor finishes to be completed and for the smell to go away.

Once in the house, we will probably leave the bathroom light on as we have in every place that we have slept this summer.  It's a comforting beacon at 2 a.m. in a place that isn't home.

Once in the house, we may not venture out for anything other than school and work... And meetings, gymnastics, floor hockey, soccer, Boy Scouts, trumpet lessons.  Looks like penciling in AT HOME on the calendar needs to happen for us to do some serious nesting.

Yes, I must get out of here... I just helped a British couple operate the coffee brewer in the lobby and then provided travel tips for Boston.

Sometimes dusty, dirty, and demanding... Here's to home.

Happy Hump Day...

Confused by the name of the inn?  Read Finders Keepers for clarification. :)

phone charger cord for the car

(This little ditty was sparked taking inventory of my purse in "This Morning's Office"... ) In Massachusetts, I found the phone charger cord for the car as we left the rental house in Gloucester, so I tucked it in my suitcase to take to Iowa.  However, as I criss-crossed Iowa I rarely had cell coverage.  Not too shocking as no-service had become the norm this summer.  So my always-fully-charged phone rarely worked.  Perhaps T-Mobile is MA-based and can get power through buildings but not corn tassels.

While in Iowa, occasionally  I found 2-square feet to stand in to get 2 bars of coverage.  One of those times was on my sister's porch in the middle of Iowa at 8 a.m. when my phone rang.  "We are calling on behalf of Sprint to collect a bill you have not paid."  Never do I give a credit card number over the phone to someone who calls me.  "I don't have Sprint.  What service is it for?"  "I'm not sure, Ma'am, I just have the amount due that covers two billing cycles."

Crap.  It clicked: I do have Sprint.  At the beginning of summer, two billing cycles ago, I bought a "hot spot" so that wherever I go I can hook up to the internet with my lap top.  That is, wherever I can get cell coverage.  Which ended up not being at the house in Gloucester this summer.  So the magical hot spot went into a cardboard box, in the POD, in our driveway.

I have flashbacks of seeing "Sprint" in the subject of emails and not opening them because I don't have a Sprint phone.  I thought they were marketing emails... and I have fast delete fingers when it comes to those emails.  I had gone with paper-less billing for my Sprint hot spot.  Realizing that I actually did have a Sprint product and knowing I hadn't paid any bills, I grimaced and gave my credit card number and 3-digit secret code to this man.  Who called me.

Loading up the kids to go to Reiman Gardens in Ames, I felt a pit in the bottom of my stomache.  Even with the realization that I hadn't paid my Sprint bill, I shouldn't have given my card information to that guy.  The best solution for my panic was to contact a local Sprint office and confirm that the call was legit.  "Oh, Ma'am, that doesn't sound good.  What is your phone number?"  I don't have a phone with Sprint.  "Well, there is a number associated with the hot spot -- what's that number?"  That number is with the paperwork, in the hot spot box, in the POD, in the driveway, at our house, in Massachusetts.  "Well, there's no way I can look at your account without that number, Ma'am."  What about my name?  I know my name!!  "Unfortunately, we can't look up accounts by name.  You should probably call our 800 number for help."

I tossed paper and pencil to Will in the back seat and asked him to write numbers down as I repeated them from the Sprint lady.  She gave me two numbers to try.  I dialed the first one that Will had written down.  "Hello..."  Wow, that 'Hello' was way too sultry for Sprint customer service.  "We are so glad you called.  Are you looking for hot, steamy..."  Shock knocks the memory.  The Sprint lady gave me a sex line.  Or did Will write the  number down wrong?  I hit 'end call' and dared not call the second number.  I would go on faith that the collection agency that had called me was legit.

Later that afternoon, I heard the ping for an incoming text.  "Creamy chocolate or hot latina lovers r waiting 4 u.  $25 credit on your first call... or, do you want to SEXTEXT?"  No!  I really don't!!  And why are you sending this to me??  Ohhhh...  My cell number was captured after I called you.  By mistake.

That came in at 4:04 p.m.  "END" went out at 4:05 p.m.  My one and only sextext experience lasted less than a minute.

And to make sure there are no cliff-hangers: My hot spot is still in the cardboard box.  And the collection agency call was legit.

Need more endorphins freed up today?  Try this:  Finders Keepers

 

Finders Keepers

Wednesday morning I was herding the boys, trying to leave the hotel room and get to school.  Liam, putting on his shoes between the two beds, said, "Hey, Mom!  What's this?  I want it!"  Frazzled, I acquiesced and had a look.  It was a black bra.  Not mine.  Stuck under the leg of the bed.  "No you can't have that!  It's not mine!"  Thinking he had really hit a jackpot, "What is it?  I want it!  Finder's keepers, ya know, Mom!"  Bent over laughing, I told him not to touch it and to get shoes on and get out the door.  My response to the surreal is apparently belly laughing. I scooted the boys out of the room and stopped at the front desk.  Speaking in shorthand to the woman at the front desk, I conveyed what needed to happen.  "My son found a black bra under the bed.  Not mine.  Stuck under the leg.  He's playing 'finder's keepers.'  There are clothes all over the room, but that is not mine.  It needs to disappear before I get back."  She was mortified.  "I'm so sorry."  Across the lobby I said, "Maybe you can think about something you can give me in return for what you take out of the room today."  The response, "We will come up with something."

After school I returned with the boys to pick up the laundry and go to the laundromat.  I subtley peeked under the bed.  It was gone.  I snatched all the dirty laundry and opened the suitcase (aka: dirty clothes hamper) to add these last bits.  And there it was.  Neatly folded... the black bra.  Still not mine.

What got lost in translation?  "The woman in room 123 can't get her bra out from under the bed" v.s. "The woman in room 123 wants the bra that's not hers out from under the bed."  Knowing there was a seeker in the room playing finders keepers, I whisked it out of the suitcase, opened the door, and threw it into the hallway.  There are housekeeping carts right outside my door.  Someone will now get the message.

A half hour later, Will opened the door as I wheeled the suitcase right behind him.  "Mom, why is there a black bra out here?"  "I... I threw it out here because it's not mine and..."  Hells bells.  I threw it out into the hallway.  Do the housekeepers think I'm in a rage because I found a bra in the room, not mine, and slung it out because my husband is having an affair?  (He's not... read this clearly... it's what I thought the housekeeping staff thought...)   I grabbed a plastic bag, picked the black bra up again and delivered it to the front desk.  Different woman at the front desk.  I shorthanded her the story.  She too is equally as mortified as the first woman.

The only ones I cannot explain the situation to is the housekeeping staff.  There I am with two little boys, throwing another woman's black bra out the door.  I am left wondering how they are telling the story.

God forbid, I hope I didn't grab the hotel laundering bag to get rid of the thing.  It may come back neatly folded... and clean.

(Want to read more about my "finder's keepers" guy?  Liam's Forever Family Day 2012.)

 

This Morning's Office

We are just a few days away from moving back into our house.  So close.  Life is more than a little jumbled living from a small hotel room, a POD, and the back of my van.  And this morning, from the hotel bathroom as my morning office.  I didn't feeling like putting clothes on at 6 a.m. and sitting in the lobby.  This morning, I brought my purse into the office.  I have become a bag lady.  Holy smokes, that thing must weigh 20 pounds.  This morning I'm cleaning it out... A hard cover address book stuffed with social invites needing replies or gifts... three passports, one  needs to be renewed... the boys' Easter money from Grandma & Grandpa - three ziplocs filled with coins... Will's heavy wallet, what does he have in that thing? ahhh, it has a coin pocket --filled with quarters... my envelope of cash... two driver's licenses -- I lost my original at the beginning of summer... my camera... Advil... 2 ziplocs filled with receipts... 2 hotel bills... a mysterious bill in my side pocket, probably from Mom, she has a quiet-money-tucking way about her... one duplicate checkbook, no cover & paint sample paint strips with kitchen color possibilities marking where the next unused check is... hmmm... there is also a reorder note on the top edge and the color of the basement carpet written on the back...

...an IPASS from IL that works in MA...  1 set of keys with all those little store tags... deoderant... empty prescription bottle, don't want to throw it in the hotel trash... "Wet Ones" package about half-way down in the bag... box of band-aids with a tube of antibiotic salve inside... big green Mentos gum bottle...crumpled receipts distributed evenly throughout like confetti... ziploc of hair bands and clips... phone charger cord for the car... a key... a receipt for granite sealer...big tube of Cortizone... little tube of Aquaphor...  I can see the bottom of the bag! ... my prayer bracelet... a note from Will's teacher... a note from the landlord who owned the house we rented this summer, there's a drawing of the house on the front of the card, she would love to have us back next summer -- the deposit check is tucked inside... another baggie full of coins... another key...

...an origami Yoda I'm supposed to be mailing to a friend for Will...tic tacs... Premier 1k Mileage plus card from United with my name on it... another car key... and two more...my business card holder -- empty... LEGOS flier from the garden in Ames, IA...rental car agreement... a banana key chain with a single key, either to the POD in our drive or to our steel case containing important stuff... package of gum... more confetti receipts...Liam's bracelet that a friend made for him... leftover tape from Bill's wound this summer... band-aid wrappers... a car rental receipt from Iowa...tweezers... plumbing supplier business card... lipstick...another key... more leftover tape

I've always been fascinated by inventories.  Lists can tell a story and each item has its own story.  Just wait...there are three pens and a pencil in the bottom of the bag as well.

Happy Hump Day...

Summer Numbers

At the end of this tailspin called summer, I’ve been recalling events in numbers – a little strange because I’m more of a word person.  Short & quantifiable, numbers highlight this Hump Day Short. In the last 30 days, I’ve slept in 17 beds.

After flying 1,600 miles to the Midwest, the rental car had racked up 2,000 Midwest-driving miles at the end of our 14-day trip.

45,143 LEGO blocks were used by master LEGO sculptor Sean Kinney to create a mother bison sculpture on display at the Reiman Gardens on the ISU campus in Ames, IA.  It was one of 27 sculptures in the gardens.  (Click here for pictures of sculptures.)

6 pair of underwear; 1 set of pajamas; 2 capri pants: What I left behind in a hotel room drawer after 1 beautful wedding in the Midwest.  It was shipped to my parents’ house in 1 box that took 7 days to arrive.

Quantillion, quintillion, googleplex.  A number created during a drive through cornfields in Iowa; I think it relates to the numberof corn tassels we saw.

½ of 1 toenail left on my big toe – a result of the 26- mile Avon Walk in May.

ZERO:  How many ears of corn are on many cornstalks in Iowa due to the drought.

ZERO: How many days until school starts.

1 alien space umbrella I was using yesterday made 8 people smile.

A few days rather than a few weeks until we move back into our house – too early for exact numbers.  Thanks, Mom & Dad, for our 1 mantel.  It's a piece of white oak from my grandpa's timber on the old home place, cut down in 1952 and shipped from Iowa to Massachussetts for $40.  Yes, it's so cliche, but... priceless.