Who knew it was going to be today? I had always said that the day I walked around in shorts with black socks was the day that it would be time to put me in the retirement home. I thought with Elijah's birth I had bought a few more years, that keeping up with a toddler would somehow stop the aging process.
If I had been honest with myself I would have seen some of the warning signs. Hair sprouting wildly on my body everywhere but the top of my head. Cute 30-somethings saying how much I reminded them of their father. The fact that the only CDs I had bought the past few years were new releases of bands I had first heard in high school and college. (Of course, as Sarah pointed out, the idea of even buying CDs as opposed to downloading tunes shows how "out of it" I am.) Golfing with younger guys who, while complimenting me on a shot, used a voice I would have used years ago: the voice that may have said "nice shot," but really meant "let's tell the old guy how great it is he's even out here trying instead sitting at home drooling while watching "Dancing with the Stars." " Being out with Elijah and being told what a lovely grandchild I had.
But today was the day that I crossed the bridge to senility and couldn't get back. I had lost our iPod (without Sarah's prompting I still would be using a Walkman) at our gym, but was ecstatic when I found out that someone had turned one in and it appeared to be ours. When I got it a couple of days later (it was locked in a safe for the weekend) I tried to use it, but it wouldn't stay on. I took it home, looked at the manual and discovered that someone had locked it. I tried a variety of ways to unlock it, but none were successful. After reconfiguring it for the third time, and still having no success, I took it to the Apple store by my office.
When I explained to the employee (who looked all of 15) what had happened and how I couldn't get the iPod unlocked, he calmly looked at the bottom, pushed a switch, and presto, got it done. The conversation after this modern miracle went as follows:
"What did you do?"
"I moved the switch on the bottom to unlock. See, red means locked, green means unlocked. So I just pushed this switch here."
He said this to me with a look of pity that said, Old man, why don't you stick with one of those transistor radios with the single earplug and leave anything more modern than that to us.
I thanked him and left, happy that my iPod I thought was at first lost and then broken, was neither. I also knew that I would no doubt be the topic of conversation (ridicule?) for the employees that night -- the old guy who couldn't figure out how to use the button on the bottom of his iPod.
"Do you think he still has cassettes?"
"Cassettes? He probably has one of those 8-tracks my grandparents talk about."
Well, let them have their fun. While they're obsessing over the latest version of the iPhone, I will be working out to Bruce, the Stones, Bowie, the Beatles and any other golden oldie I have on my iPod that given day, making sure I have the strength and stamina to keep up with my 5-year-old bundle of energy.
The one who thinks his daddy can fix anything.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Comments, please!
Ever have one of those days where sitting at the computer is the only thing you have enough energy to do? This is one of those days for me, so I took the time to change some of the settings on this blog regarding the posting of comments. It has come to my attention that I actually have several readers who are NOT my dear friend Natalie in Florida, who to date appears to be the only person who has ever posted a comment here.
It turns out that's because blogger novice (me) had the comment settings restricted in such a way that only people with an account on this same blog service (like Natalie) could post. That eliminated all of you who so nicely have humored me by saying that you really, really have wanted to post comments but couldn't.
So now we'll just see how much you really want to comment! (Thought you'd never get called on that one, huh?!)
I'm stuck at home today with a miserably ill Elijah. But I'm thankful that he waited to get sick until AFTER Sunday's beautiful family afternoon of kite-flying at an urban park not far from here. I blame his tummy troubles on the hideous Tweety-Bird-shaped concoction obtained from one of those ice cream trucks that always seem to be driven by illegal aliens or convicted felons. You'd think the relentless aural assault of distorted speakers playing a calliope version of "Turkey in the Straw" over and over -- without ever actually reaching the chorus -- would be enough to send anyone fleeing back to Mexico or prison. But apparently not.
I'll post some new photos soon -- perhaps even photos of the sickly-sweet melting Tweety-Bird episode. That's just a heads-up for you squeamish types and you health-nut types. It's not pretty.
It turns out that's because blogger novice (me) had the comment settings restricted in such a way that only people with an account on this same blog service (like Natalie) could post. That eliminated all of you who so nicely have humored me by saying that you really, really have wanted to post comments but couldn't.
So now we'll just see how much you really want to comment! (Thought you'd never get called on that one, huh?!)
I'm stuck at home today with a miserably ill Elijah. But I'm thankful that he waited to get sick until AFTER Sunday's beautiful family afternoon of kite-flying at an urban park not far from here. I blame his tummy troubles on the hideous Tweety-Bird-shaped concoction obtained from one of those ice cream trucks that always seem to be driven by illegal aliens or convicted felons. You'd think the relentless aural assault of distorted speakers playing a calliope version of "Turkey in the Straw" over and over -- without ever actually reaching the chorus -- would be enough to send anyone fleeing back to Mexico or prison. But apparently not.
I'll post some new photos soon -- perhaps even photos of the sickly-sweet melting Tweety-Bird episode. That's just a heads-up for you squeamish types and you health-nut types. It's not pretty.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Here comes Trouble
Whew. What a week it's been.
I still have a job, which is more than many of my (now-former) co-workers can say. Monday's payroll blood-letting was brutal -- we're now down to approximately half the staff we had a little over a year ago -- and confusing. I thought I had lost my capacity to be stunned, but I was wrong. Some of the most versatile (and therefore valuable) employees were cut, as were some part-time (and therefore cheap) employees. So again, there appears to be no rhyme or reason to the decisions.
But I survived, and my schedule henceforth will look something like this:
4 p.m. to midnight Mondays.
Off Tuesdays and Wednesdays.
5:30 p.m. or so until whenever we're finished on Thursdays. Hopefully before midnight.
Off Fridays.
4 p.m. to midnight Saturdays
4 p.m. to midnight Sundays
It's starting to feel less and less like a part-time schedule, and more and more exhausting. Until now I've gotten a three-day block of time off every week, which sort of feels like a mini-vacation, and so I haven't really minded the fact that I get no paid days off and therefore can't take any time off other than those three days each week. (Haven't done so since going part-time in August).
I think the thing that will finally get to me is the fact that for the foreseeable future, Jeff and I will have NO days off together, ever. Up until now I've had Mondays off, which means that whenever one of those Monday holidays rolls around, we can all spend the day together as a family. I'm pretty zonked from having worked the three previous nights until midnight, but still, it's nice to go to the park, or the zoo, or wherever and not have to worry about making it to the office by 4. Granted, there are only four of these family days in an entire calendar year -- Martin Luther King Day, President's Day, Memorial Day and Labor Day -- but oh, how I looked forward to them. So much for that.
I'll stop complaining now, because at least I do still have a job. It's going to be far more stressful because we are each taking on so many added responsibilities, but there will be enough money coming in to pay the mortgage and all the routine bills. At this point in the recession, that's enough.
So on to our other news: Elijah is just completing his first week ever of being away from home all day! He's at something called Spring Break Adventure Camp at our fitness center, which as far as I can tell consists of a group of teenagers and 20-somethings leading a bunch of 5- through 12-year-olds through a day of games, swimming, rock-wall climbing and arts and crafts while trying to maintain their own sanity. (I couldn't do it.)
At first I was really hesitant about sending him, because he's so different from other kids and I feared that he would be teased and bullied and scared and lonely -- all the things most moms worry about, but which I amplify through the magnifying glass that is autism.
It appears my worries were, for the most part, unfounded. Although he has mostly stayed to himself (OK, yes, I've checked in on him each day!), he doesn't at all mind sitting and coloring while other kids play basketball and field hockey and whatnot.
He even has a little hanger-on who rarely seems to leave his side. That would be Will, a precocious little guy who actually looks much younger than 5, which is the cutoff age for this camp. Elijah had told me one evening, after my usual round of questioning in an attempt to get even one word out of him about his day, that one of the other kids at camp was named "Will." This was the only name he could come up with, and I was skeptical.
But he turned out to be right. When I checked in on him the next day, sitting off to the side of the gym coloring with another little boy sitting beside him, I walked up and asked Elijah how he was doing.
"He's fine," chirped the little boy.
"Hi!" I said. "What's your name?"
"I'm Will," was the reply. "I like to color."
"Do you know Elijah?" I asked.
"I know he's TROUBLE!!!" Will exclaimed.
I was a bit taken aback, and was beginning to wonder when Elijah was going to look up and at least acknowledge that he had just been defamed, when Will launched into his explanation of "trouble."
"He goes over THERE," (pointing to one corner of the gym), "when we are supposed to go HERE!" (pointing to another corner). His eyes grew big with excitement as he related this tale of anarchy. "He's TROUBLE!"
I tried not to laugh, but it was hard. Yes, Elijah does tend to zig when other children zag. Usually it's not a problem, as long as there are enough adults around to redirect him. Or to put his swim trunks back on when he decides he's had enough of the pool and strips butt-naked right there in front of everyone (that would be Tuesday's version of Trouble). I would think THAT would have made more of an impression on young Will, but no. It was the going-to-the-wrong-corner episode that really marked Elijah as Trouble.
Today is the final day of camp, which will be a relief, no doubt, to the wonderfully patient staffers who have led Elijah from one activity to another all week long, with Will never far away. It marks a big milestone for Elijah, who never seemed interested in coming home early even though his worried mom made the offer nearly every day. It also marks a big milestone for me, because I've finally been able to let him be with strangers in a child-care setting all day long.
Next stop, kindergarten! It's just 5 months away. Perhaps I should warn the teachers now to watch out, because Trouble is coming.
I still have a job, which is more than many of my (now-former) co-workers can say. Monday's payroll blood-letting was brutal -- we're now down to approximately half the staff we had a little over a year ago -- and confusing. I thought I had lost my capacity to be stunned, but I was wrong. Some of the most versatile (and therefore valuable) employees were cut, as were some part-time (and therefore cheap) employees. So again, there appears to be no rhyme or reason to the decisions.
But I survived, and my schedule henceforth will look something like this:
4 p.m. to midnight Mondays.
Off Tuesdays and Wednesdays.
5:30 p.m. or so until whenever we're finished on Thursdays. Hopefully before midnight.
Off Fridays.
4 p.m. to midnight Saturdays
4 p.m. to midnight Sundays
It's starting to feel less and less like a part-time schedule, and more and more exhausting. Until now I've gotten a three-day block of time off every week, which sort of feels like a mini-vacation, and so I haven't really minded the fact that I get no paid days off and therefore can't take any time off other than those three days each week. (Haven't done so since going part-time in August).
I think the thing that will finally get to me is the fact that for the foreseeable future, Jeff and I will have NO days off together, ever. Up until now I've had Mondays off, which means that whenever one of those Monday holidays rolls around, we can all spend the day together as a family. I'm pretty zonked from having worked the three previous nights until midnight, but still, it's nice to go to the park, or the zoo, or wherever and not have to worry about making it to the office by 4. Granted, there are only four of these family days in an entire calendar year -- Martin Luther King Day, President's Day, Memorial Day and Labor Day -- but oh, how I looked forward to them. So much for that.
I'll stop complaining now, because at least I do still have a job. It's going to be far more stressful because we are each taking on so many added responsibilities, but there will be enough money coming in to pay the mortgage and all the routine bills. At this point in the recession, that's enough.
So on to our other news: Elijah is just completing his first week ever of being away from home all day! He's at something called Spring Break Adventure Camp at our fitness center, which as far as I can tell consists of a group of teenagers and 20-somethings leading a bunch of 5- through 12-year-olds through a day of games, swimming, rock-wall climbing and arts and crafts while trying to maintain their own sanity. (I couldn't do it.)
At first I was really hesitant about sending him, because he's so different from other kids and I feared that he would be teased and bullied and scared and lonely -- all the things most moms worry about, but which I amplify through the magnifying glass that is autism.
It appears my worries were, for the most part, unfounded. Although he has mostly stayed to himself (OK, yes, I've checked in on him each day!), he doesn't at all mind sitting and coloring while other kids play basketball and field hockey and whatnot.
He even has a little hanger-on who rarely seems to leave his side. That would be Will, a precocious little guy who actually looks much younger than 5, which is the cutoff age for this camp. Elijah had told me one evening, after my usual round of questioning in an attempt to get even one word out of him about his day, that one of the other kids at camp was named "Will." This was the only name he could come up with, and I was skeptical.
But he turned out to be right. When I checked in on him the next day, sitting off to the side of the gym coloring with another little boy sitting beside him, I walked up and asked Elijah how he was doing.
"He's fine," chirped the little boy.
"Hi!" I said. "What's your name?"
"I'm Will," was the reply. "I like to color."
"Do you know Elijah?" I asked.
"I know he's TROUBLE!!!" Will exclaimed.
I was a bit taken aback, and was beginning to wonder when Elijah was going to look up and at least acknowledge that he had just been defamed, when Will launched into his explanation of "trouble."
"He goes over THERE," (pointing to one corner of the gym), "when we are supposed to go HERE!" (pointing to another corner). His eyes grew big with excitement as he related this tale of anarchy. "He's TROUBLE!"
I tried not to laugh, but it was hard. Yes, Elijah does tend to zig when other children zag. Usually it's not a problem, as long as there are enough adults around to redirect him. Or to put his swim trunks back on when he decides he's had enough of the pool and strips butt-naked right there in front of everyone (that would be Tuesday's version of Trouble). I would think THAT would have made more of an impression on young Will, but no. It was the going-to-the-wrong-corner episode that really marked Elijah as Trouble.
Today is the final day of camp, which will be a relief, no doubt, to the wonderfully patient staffers who have led Elijah from one activity to another all week long, with Will never far away. It marks a big milestone for Elijah, who never seemed interested in coming home early even though his worried mom made the offer nearly every day. It also marks a big milestone for me, because I've finally been able to let him be with strangers in a child-care setting all day long.
Next stop, kindergarten! It's just 5 months away. Perhaps I should warn the teachers now to watch out, because Trouble is coming.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Woe is not me -- yet
OK, so it's been awhile. I haven't subjected any of you to my ramblings lately because, well, I can't think of anything new to ramble about. Which is good, because I have finally reached the age where the phrase "no news is good news" actually makes sense.
But the thing is, there's always news. This week's news is that I have started taking what is likely to be a long list of classes to upgrade my skills in preparation for a new career. I'll admit that I put this off for a long time, not because I didn't want to go back to school, but because I hate having only one night a week at home. (Elijah doesn't mind it at all, given that any night Mom's gone means he gets to eat dinner in the den with Dad and make all sorts of disgusting bodily noises. Mom tends to take all the fun out of things with her insistence on sitting at the table and not belching. Or worse.)
So now I'm taking an HTML/XHTML/CSS class on Monday and Tuesday nights, then working Thursday nights through Sunday nights. With any luck, I'll develop enough skills in Web site architecture that I can go into the underlying code for this blog and make some changes to the template, such as getting the title to be in proper uppercase and lowercase letters (those trendy all-lowercase things drive me insane.).
More importantly, of course, is the fact that I'm in the job market, which, as you may have heard, is not a real great place to be right now. I technically still have a job, although it could evaporate this week or next. (Yes, it's layoff time again -- the fifth round of layoffs/buyouts at my company in the past 14 months.)
Got a fork? Stick it in some newspapers. They're done.
So I'm trying to keep in mind the GOOD things about a likely job loss. For me, it means eight hours of sleep a night. No more getting home from a commute downtown at 12:30 or 1 a.m. No more going to work on Friday nights, Saturday nights, Sunday nights, holidays, 52 weeks a year. No more snapping at Elijah because I'm exhausted. Mondays are especially bad, which doesn't bode well for learning computer code from 6 til 9:30 on Monday nights.
If you happen to be someone I work with -- or one of my bosses (yeah, I know I sent you an e-mail from home and forgot to delete the link to this blog in the tagline), please keep in mind that I do not WANT to be laid off. If given the option, I'd probably stay til the ship goes down, simply because I'm a stay-til-the-ship-goes-down kind of gal. (Plus, so far I haven't been able to find another job.)
Sorry for the cliche (the kind of thing I get paid to take OUT of other people's writing), but the ship is indeed going down -- you know it as well as I do.
I thought about posting a bunch of links here to various articles and blogs about my industry's demise, but those of you who care probably have already read all you can stand to read about it. I'm just hoping I hear about any layoff involving me BEFORE my name gets posted on one of them. That's a lousy way to learn about your job loss, although only slightly lousier than getting the news in an e-mail, which seems to be a growing trend.
I will say that I understand why no one wants to read newspapers anymore. Nobody sums the reasons better than Will Bunch on the Huffington Post site. Click on that, read it and watch the Jon Stewart video. It's a scream.
And sometimes, screaming is all you can do.
But the thing is, there's always news. This week's news is that I have started taking what is likely to be a long list of classes to upgrade my skills in preparation for a new career. I'll admit that I put this off for a long time, not because I didn't want to go back to school, but because I hate having only one night a week at home. (Elijah doesn't mind it at all, given that any night Mom's gone means he gets to eat dinner in the den with Dad and make all sorts of disgusting bodily noises. Mom tends to take all the fun out of things with her insistence on sitting at the table and not belching. Or worse.)
So now I'm taking an HTML/XHTML/CSS class on Monday and Tuesday nights, then working Thursday nights through Sunday nights. With any luck, I'll develop enough skills in Web site architecture that I can go into the underlying code for this blog and make some changes to the template, such as getting the title to be in proper uppercase and lowercase letters (those trendy all-lowercase things drive me insane.).
More importantly, of course, is the fact that I'm in the job market, which, as you may have heard, is not a real great place to be right now. I technically still have a job, although it could evaporate this week or next. (Yes, it's layoff time again -- the fifth round of layoffs/buyouts at my company in the past 14 months.)
Got a fork? Stick it in some newspapers. They're done.
So I'm trying to keep in mind the GOOD things about a likely job loss. For me, it means eight hours of sleep a night. No more getting home from a commute downtown at 12:30 or 1 a.m. No more going to work on Friday nights, Saturday nights, Sunday nights, holidays, 52 weeks a year. No more snapping at Elijah because I'm exhausted. Mondays are especially bad, which doesn't bode well for learning computer code from 6 til 9:30 on Monday nights.
If you happen to be someone I work with -- or one of my bosses (yeah, I know I sent you an e-mail from home and forgot to delete the link to this blog in the tagline), please keep in mind that I do not WANT to be laid off. If given the option, I'd probably stay til the ship goes down, simply because I'm a stay-til-the-ship-goes-down kind of gal. (Plus, so far I haven't been able to find another job.)
Sorry for the cliche (the kind of thing I get paid to take OUT of other people's writing), but the ship is indeed going down -- you know it as well as I do.
I thought about posting a bunch of links here to various articles and blogs about my industry's demise, but those of you who care probably have already read all you can stand to read about it. I'm just hoping I hear about any layoff involving me BEFORE my name gets posted on one of them. That's a lousy way to learn about your job loss, although only slightly lousier than getting the news in an e-mail, which seems to be a growing trend.
I will say that I understand why no one wants to read newspapers anymore. Nobody sums the reasons better than Will Bunch on the Huffington Post site. Click on that, read it and watch the Jon Stewart video. It's a scream.
And sometimes, screaming is all you can do.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Everyday is Valentine's Day....and Christmas, and Chanukah too
Without question, Elijah is one happy little rug rat. Giggles and laughter are his most often-used communicative skills, and his sheer delight at the mundane always brings a smile to my face. Of course, if I thought every day was a holiday, any black cloud above my head would disappear, too.
As previous posts have noted, Elijah "got it" this holiday season. From writing to Santa and the decorating of the tree, to the lighting of the menorah, he was into the holiday spirit. And, as we approach the dawn of spring, the spirit hasn't left him. From the creation of his own "Candy Cane Lane" in our kitchen to his self-reassurances that "Santa will bring (fill in the blank with, among other things, basketball goals, markers, M & M's) tomorrow", Christmas is still here.
He also has continued to read his Blue's Clues Chanukah book on a daily basis and just this week created his own Hebrew lettering.
Though it was almost a month ago, Valentine's Day still reigns for Elijah. He constantly writes it on a variety of drawings and loves to draw hearts and flowers. At least he isn't still chasing down and hugging all the little girls at the child center of our health club, a behavior that caused Sarah's workout to be cut short as she was paged to pick up our young Casanova and leave.
So we will continue to celebrate here at the house and keep all the holiday joy and happiness a year-round affair. And when the heat and humidity of August force us inside, we will watch over and over again the video Elijah asked to see last year at that time: "How the Grinch Stole Christmas."
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Eric Clapton's nightmare
Perhaps inspired by Punk Rock legend Iggy Pop, the Sports Illustrated swimsuit models or just dreaming about summer weather, Elijah drew this picture yesterday. When asked what it was, he replied in a matter-of-fact voice "naked man playing guitar."
Duh, Dad.
Duh, Dad.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
