You Do What You Have To Do

This week I started a part-time job at Kohl's, which is an entire blog post in and of itself and will come later, I promise. My husband has shown amazing understanding and capability I hadn't really given him credit for in the past, as we shuffle his schedule to accommodate mine and the kids. I think due to my own control issues, I just haven't given him the opportunity (I don't think that's the word he would use), to exercise his talents in handling the kids on his own. I haven't entirely let go either, as I call every 15 minute break I get to ask how things are going, remind him what Kaiden has for homework, tell him to put the wet snowpants/hat/gloves/boots in the dryer for school the following morning and to make sure hubby stops by the DMV to renew his vehicle tags. Yep, loosening that acting head of household noose grip has not been easy.

But...we did have plenty that I was witness to this week, so let's get started.

When I have a captive audience (in the car, on the way to / from daycare), I try to engage the children in conversation so that I don't look like a complete idiot at parent/teacher conferences, like the fact that Kaiden has managed to eat breakfast at home AND at school. Apparently, instead of heading to the playground after de-boarding the bus, he grabs some grub. During this particular car ride, I decided to focus my attention on Kaiden (since a review mirror glance reveled Kamrin's half-closed eyes and slightly bobbing head.) Kaiden was explaining that they would not be having pajama/movie day on Friday, because they failed to get four stars (mental note: ask teacher about stars). I replied, "Well that's a bummer," to which Kamrin snapped to attention and loudly said, "Plumber? Where's a plumber?"

Kamrin has matured to a new reaction to anything he feels is "unfair" or sends him into a fit of stomping feet, a slammed bedroom door, the flinging of a tiny body on his little bed and a muted, but yet strangely audible, "I don't love you mom and dad....EVER!" He now retaliates by throwing his prize possessions (like his blankie) in the garbage.

Umm, ick. Into the wash!

When they are eventually found, he claims that, we made him do it. I don't understand this concept. Let me get this straight. He's unhappy because he is being disciplined for something, and yet wants to torture himself further by discarding that which is near and dear to him? Is this so that he can somehow shift the blame of his bad behavior from himself to his parents? Hmmm. Interesting twist. One afternoon, the boys wanted to play a video game but the controllers were nowhere to be found. I searched, Shawn searched, even the boys searched. I asked them to think back to the last time they played and to retrace their steps. When it became apparent, after comparing kid/dad stories, that the last game session ended with a disagreement and was shut off mid-game, I had an idea where to look. The controllers were then retrieved from the bathroom garbage. Kam claims it was an "ak-i-dent." Uh huh.

His second tension releaser at least puts his creative talents to use. He will draw a picture of all four of us, (or six if he includes the dogs), and then will deliberately put a large, red, cherry-scented-marker 'X' through those of us he is currently upset with. Is this a toddler hit list? It may come out in therapy one day.

Speaking of video games, I feel a weird combination of amazement and disgust at the gaming ability of my 4-year-old. He intuitively is able to beat each level (lebbel in toddler-speak) in half the time that it takes an adult. Now if this were something he could make a living at and NOT end up as an unshaven, 40-year-old, Cheeto-eating, socially inadequate adult living in my basement, then more power to him. I just don't see that happening. I moved the device into our bedroom, hoping to deter them from playing very often. Didn't work. Kamrin stood on the bed, eyes wide and unblinking, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth when Shawn walked in. Without a head-turn of acknowledgement, he says, "Watch and learn, Dad, watch and learn." He needs to be unplugged.

Due to the random hours I am required to work, I did miss out on a few things. Kaiden lost his 6th tooth and now wears the coming of age, front-toothed gapped smile of most kids his age. Unlike ALL the other five teeth (ahem, Shawn), he actually pulled this one out himself.

For some reason, he never seems to be able to keep his shirt on.

The tooth fairy left him his loot and a note thanking him for the tooth and a reminder to brush his teeth (hey, if it doesn't come from me, maybe he'll take it to heart). She also attempted to leave a lipstick kiss mark, but happened to be wearing a too dark shade of lipstick and it looked more like she dragged her little pixie butt across the side of the card.

Both kids now have temporary tattoos. Kaiden has a large fire-breathing dragon on the inside of his arm, from wrist to elbow. Kamrin opted for something a bit smaller...in his armpit.

For cleaning their rooms, making their beds and vacuuming, the kids each got $2 and "won" a trip to Toys-R-Us with dad to pick something out. As per the norm, Kaiden got what he wanted, and then used his Vulcan mind bending rays (or something...) and convinced Kamrin to use his money to ALSO buy something Kaiden wanted. Dad has not been exposed to this trick often enough to recognize and put a stop to it. He's still a newbie.

In an attempt to gain a little extra sleep, I ignored my cell phone's urgent beeping Sunday morning until Kamrin brought it in to me. The text message from my mother read, "Kam, I'm in church. You can call Grammie later." Maybe having my mom on speed dial is not the best idea.

Here's a picture to prove that the two of them aren't ALWAYS at each others throats. A single snapshot of peace.

Kaiden is reading a book to him.

I've Got The Music In Me

My youngest son never ceases to amaze me. He seems so oblivious to his surroundings at times, especially when I've repeated his name for the seventh time, informing him that we were to have left five minutes ago! Today, he wasn't feeling well, I had the day off to be with him, I knew he was tired but fighting it, so we snuggled in the rocking chair to watch a "Fly Me to the Moon." During one clip, the "Blue Danube" waltz played. Kamrin sluggishly says, "That's the song in "Up," right mommy?"

It was. Well, maybe not, but it was close.Yes, he probably watched "Up" over one hundred and twenty three times, but it had been well over 4 months since he had seen it last. I didn't even catch it until he had pointed it out, and still had to stop a moment to think back.

He's always had a thing for music. I have a very old beat up (thanks to Hot Wheel cars and fighting action figures) piano in my living room. I learned to play when I was about eight. I have always had intentions to teach my children when they develop an attention span longer than six seconds. Out of the blue, Kamrin grabs some sheet music, places it upside down on the stand, and cranked out a tune. I'll remind you that he's four. It froze me for a moment, because it wasn't the fist pounding on the keys that is normal for that age group, but actually plucking of the keys with both hands. It may have been coincidence, but it sounded like a melody.  I now will ask him to play me something. Each time, he MUST have sheet music. He labels each piece with an emotion, a 'sad' song, a 'happy' song, a 'scary' song. Once in awhile, he'll add lyrics, not poetry necessarily, more along the lines of, "the zombie ate your brains...." Cute.

He dances as well, and not too shabbily. It's a step above the spin yourself around, or throw your self into the nearest piece of furniture. He shakes his hips and head.

I have a short video of him at about a year and a half, rocking out with a guitar. Yep, think he was born with music in his blood. Of course, most videos I have of him, his older brother feels a need to steal the spotlight.

He became enamored with a CD that his Papa had gotten him, it was bible stories. But it wasn't the stories he was interested in, because after the musical introduction, he would immediately ask me to go back and do it again. I thought it would be great to find some of that music on the Internet, so he could have something to listen to at bedtime. It was soothing. I think after several tries, we ended up with pan flute music, maybe Peruvian? I'm not sure.

He's open to several genres, country, rock, instrumentals, he doesn't judge, he just knows what touches him. I'm ecstatic about this. The sound of music can transport you back in time almost more vividly than any other medium. But being able to lose yourself in PLAYING an instrument is indescribable. For now, I'm happy to let him explore on his own, to not be aware of any "rules" when it comes to playing music, but just to let it move him...however that may be.

It's Only Temporary

I have a hard time sitting still. You can ask my family, they say I don't know how to relax. I didn't believe it. After I lost my job, I tried to keep my spirits up by thinking of all the free-time I would have, the alone, silent moments that remained beyond my grasp while I had a full-time job. I used to get home from a job that was deadline driven, thus very stress filled, and when I got home...well, the best way I've heard it described is this: "Being a mom is like being pecked to death by a bunch of chickens." 

Amen. So the idea of having the house to myself was welcoming...

for about a week.

So after dusting the tops of the door frames, and pulling out the oven to clean behind it, I had an epiphany. I needed something productive to do, outside of the home. While I'm waiting for the perfect boss, in the perfect job, with the perfect salary, I decided to enroll with a placement agency. They're going to help me find that elusive full-time position, but in the meantime, would I be interested in temping? Well, of course.

My first assignment was for data entry. That was mindless enough. With the aid of spandex, I sucked myself into the one pair of black dress pants I owned, which were by all rights, a size too small. Armed with a pencil-scrawled address on a piece of paper, a mobile coffee cup, and a freshly renewed attitude, a walked up to the large building wondering how far I was going to have walk before I found the right suite.

I was given my own, for lack of  a better word, entry card, on a lanyard with a name tag professionally printed up. Pretty spiffy for a temp! The supervisor gave me THE TOUR. The office was pretty impressive, if I ever remembered my way around. They were a 24-hour company, data entry around the clock. Their cafeteria (exclusive to card holders) had three, count 'em, three vending machines, one refrigerator for the stuff you brought in, and another full of frozen dinners and pizzas for those that may find themselves trapped there during a blizzard...a major concern in ND. They also had air mattresses with blankets and pillows for the same reason. In one corner sat (insert halo of light here) a massage chair. Wow!

$1 for 3 minutes of heaven.

This was a norm? What had I been missing out on? I really must have settled in my previous employment. They also had large baskets of suckers at nearly every corner. My guide informed me that anything that didn't have a name on it, was open to the community for consumption, that they regularly had potlucks, it was a very sharing environment. Okay, awesome. Apparently, if you walk the hallways all the way around the inside of the building, it was exactly one mile.

I was finally escorted to my "pod". For those of you unfamiliar with the term, it refers to a group of computers, separated by every other group of computers by a half wall.

Kinda like this, but add seven.

A "group" consisted of about 8 computer desks. Now remember that this company works 24 hours. a. day. This means, that your space is not really completely and truly yours, because you share it with two other shifts.

My first task was to read through four pages of legalese basically saying that I would NOT tell anybody about anything I read. But it took four pages (front and back) to say that. I was handed a project, enter this document (which consisted of faxes, copies and scans) into the computer. I dove in. An hour later, I was bored. As most legal documents, I understood about 15% of it. It consisted of a lot of 'the aforementioned', 'hereasin', and dollar amounts spelled out and then numerically represented...the same amounts, over and over. They basically re-entered court documents, company merges, leases, and other legal jargon. This is apparently a 24 hour need. Who knew?

While waiting for my next 'project', I started to analyze my surroundings. The desk I was at had several upside down light bulbs (one end flat) that proclaimed, "you light the way." Obviously, some sort of reward to keep a person motivated. My area housed a very motivated person. Several nameplates littered the desk, an attempt to make the area one's own, yet compromising as one would have to switch them each shift. Some areas were noticeably lacking in any personal thumbprint, and yet, the one across from me was markedly shared by a cat lover. They had everything "cat" they could possibly have. Most with a Halloween flair. Cat calendar, pictures of their pet cat pasted to a small piece of cork board, cat salt shakers (who keeps salt shakers on their desk?), cat comics, a stuffed cat, just to name a few.

I came to realize that the people in my pod were dedicated work-aholics. Their noses were buried in their work, they didn't chit-chat among themselves, and most had headphones on (transcript-ers), they barely made eye contact with me. Suddenly, I overhear laughter and musings about the latest Charlie Sheen debacle, a good natured debate on the latest movies, and a detailed description of a fun night out from the next pod over. I slowly realize, I'M IN THE BORING POD! Nooo! I so wanted to be next door, adding my witty comments to their conversation. THAT was my kind of people. If I were to assign color, this pod was gray and the one next door was filled with palm trees and Mai-Thais. They must be the creative people.

PLOP! My next entry. This one, hand-written notes about a lawsuit involving a caretaker (living support staff) who was being fired for not treating the residents with the respect they deserved. (Not in ND, and I'm not allowed to say where.)

The first shift is from 7 am to 3 pm. Since I had to drop my kids off, I was allowed to come in at 8 and work until 4, thus, I saw the shift change.

There's game I play in my head when I have nothing else to do, it's called, guess-what-this-person-is-in-real-life-even-though-you-don't-know-jack-about-them. (It's fun. Try it.) The one guy who occupied the cat space came in. Here's my assumption. Gray, longer hair, reminded me of the video game player in "Monster House" but older.  (Or very similar to this guy from the Simpson's.)

Gray hair and more of it.

He had a MAT bus (public transportation) lanyard, so doesn't have a car...must live with mom. Baggy Dockers, only wears them because they're required, otherwise he'd be in sweats. Came in early so that he could check the latest update on the Sci-Fi convention...no computer at home. Didn't bother to check his email, thus no real outside contact. Played with his cell phone a lot, couldn't tell if he was secretly trying to take a picture of me. Ewww. Working the night shift, so I'm thinking he doesn't have much of a social life. No wedding ring, which enforces the live-at-home theory.

Next to him, a short petite Asian woman whose name is "Helen* (named changed to protect the innocent, but just as American)." Had a lot of questions spoken in broken English, so I'm guessing this could be a stepping stone? But she seemed well liked so can conclude she's been here for awhile. They actually talked to her.

By 1 o'clock, I was ready to hit the trail. How do people do this 8 hours a day? EVERY DAY? I'm not dissing those that do, it's just not me. I tried to interact, but they laughed nervously, obviously not used to cheery interaction. Not to be mean, but I would say that 80% of those people were larger than I was. I started thinking, is it because they sit at a computer all day? Or because of the awesome potlucks I had heard about? Maybe all the suckers within arm's reach?

I had to come back the next day, and spent the entire 8 hours inputting one legal case. My wrists ached, my back hurt and my eyes burned. My mantra became, "this is only temporary," over and over again. We needed whatever little money I could bring in.

Look at the bright side, at least temping in different environments allows me to realize what I DON'T want to do.

Data entry? Check that one off my list.