Have you ever tried reasoning with a Vulcan?

There are many types of people in this world. Some are kind, and some are smart, and some are expressive, and some are quiet, and some are outgoing, and some are rough around the edges, and some are downright literal. They seem like they’re being rude or snarky, but really, they are being 100% factual and literal. Their version of common sense differs from most because to them, it must compute to their own understanding. For example, a literal person will ask you what time it is, and the majority of the populus will reply an answer that is rounded up or down such as 6:00. But to the literal person, they do not want to know the approximate time. They will look at a clock and say, “No, it is actually 5:57.”

Factual people tend to be drawn towards math or science because those subjects revolve around the facts and absolutes. People who enjoy fantasy of the written word and what it means and interpretation, well, those types like English or Literature. These people do not communicate on the same plane of existence. They can both be saying the exact same thing, but when the English mind says something to the factual mind, it is being heard by completely different ears. Vulcan ears. Pointy, literal, factual, incomputable Vulcan ears.

My middle child is definitely a Vulcan. He cannot compute a world where he is forced to endure such things as complying with a social norm simply because everyone else is. In his mind, he is an avid reader and could tell you anything you want to know about the subject matter at hand (especially if it is something that interests him). But it is unnecessary for him to have to write it out. It does not compute. To him it is unneccessary. Instead, he choses to NOT do the work at all, and has no guilt about that decision. Because this makes sense to him. 

To his mother, however, this is cause for epic concern and distress. This results in numerous emails to and from the teacher trying to come up with a course of action so that this miniature intelligent human being, who is making stupid choices, can pass his 6^th grade Honors Classes. So, English teacher and English-minded mother come up with a plan to get this student back on track. The teacher and I exchange jokes about how frustrating it is, and at least have each other to lean on for support.

Fast forward to last week. My son tells me that he has the missing packets he needs to do but, “the teacher never gave me the book” to complete them. So I think fine. I email the teacher who first laughs at the idea, and then informs me that the books are readily available for the students, and many students take them as needed, and that it is common practice for the class to take a book on a daily basis. Frustration level: Code Red. The teacher and I continue to come up with a game plan, which includes letting my son know that we’re on to him.

 Then I get an email from the teacher:

“Should have been a fly on the wall when I walked into his fifth period (I have prep) and handed him the book AND took away his Mtn. Dew hat which was on, backwards, and what we told our son “looks like a thug look”. There is a sub in that room and he was trying to get away with it--Miss Cox is worse than I am about sticking to the rules…he knows that. The hat is in my locked closet, where it will stay until June, unless you pick it up or write me a note to have it returned.”

I tell the teacher that I will not write a note to her unless he actually shows some promise in trying to get the past due work done. Naturally, Mr. Logical doesn’t seem to understand this idea. Ideas and concepts are lost on him. He lives in the here and now. Naturally, when I got home, he on his bed doing homework, but ina  VERY bad mood. His bed is his place of solitude. He refused to speak with me.

Then, we had dinner without incident, but at bed time, he is fuming angry, his face is red and tears are streaking down his face. Admittedly, I have long since forgotten about the hat incident and am just ready for bed. But, there he sits, hot tears running down his face, eyes focused and staring forward, lips closed very tightly and arms folded over his chest. Now begins the 20 questions process: What’s wrong? Son, why are you upset? Are you hurt? Are you mad? (I get a slight nod of yes).

I tell him I cannot help him if he doesn’t tell me what’s wrong or speak to me. Who are you mad at? Are you mad at your siblings? Did they do something to upset you? Did they break something? (Slight shake of the head, no.) Are you mad at me? (One nod downward for yes.) Why are you mad at me? What did I do?

I realize now that he’s not answering questions other than the yes or no options, even though they are barely visible movements on his part. So I finally ask the question, “Is this about the hat?” Finally a real nod. All of this is because of his hat. Because, in his mind, what does his hat and homework have in common? Nothing! They are not connected and having the hat taken away is irrelevant to his learning. How dare we! So I tell him, “Son, I didn’t get your hat taken away from you.”

Finally, words, “You made it worse!” Ok, so maybe he’s got a little of my dramatics in him. But still, he genuinely believes that because I did not email the teacher immediately to ask her to return his hat, that I am now a conspirator to the hat hostage situation. Guilt by association. And still, he’s basically refusing to speak to me. So I have to lecture him about how every action has consequences and he did the wrong thing, therefore he has a consequence, blah, blah, blah.

But finally, a tiny ray of information comes out that Ms. Jehns (unrelated to this story) allows them to wear hats in class. Mind you, he was NOT in Ms. Jehn’s class, but remember, and according to logic, what possible reason could any teacher have for not allowing this? I tell him that it is rude and disrespectful if he knows the rules that teachers have and then choses to disrespect them. He says that the teacher in question should not have taken his hat away because it wasn’t her class. I see where he’s coming from, but he’s focusing on the wrong problem.

So I tell him, “If I’m speeding down the road, and a cop pulls me over, I have no right to be mad at the cop. I was speeding. I broke the law. It’s his job to enforcet the laws and keep people safe. Regardless of why I was speeding, I broke the law. Even if I had a good reason.” I told him also that the only law he has to follow is to try his hardest and actually do his work. It seems so simple to me. But that’s the problem with communication and understanding: perception.

So, after much toil and trouble, we discover that he reports to be struggling in the class. It’s the writing. I love writing assignments. To him, they are tortuous and unnecessary. So I ask him if he read the book and he says that he has read it three times. Wait. What? THREE times? WHY? His answer, “Because the rest of the class is too slow.” I bursted out into laughter. He is staring at me with a confused look on his face. I explain to him that, at this point, he should be considered an expert on the material, and possibly be able to teach the class himself.

But why hasn't he done the work, I wonder! And his logic? "I didn't lie. She didn't give me the book." My head tries very hard NOT to explode and I tell him that he didn't ask for it either. So he repeats, "She didn't give it to me." So I sigh loudly and inform him that it is his responsibility to get his work done. The teacher's job is to teach and guide, not to hold his hand and do everything for him. And I mentioned that now that I know his issue is the writing, we can work on it together.
 

I know he’s having a hard time trying to rationalize why he has to do the work. I can see why it’s frustrating for teachers to tell you to read a story and then tell them about it “in your own words.” The fact minded people are thinking, “Why do I have to put it in my own words? I can receit to you exactly what it said!” They aren’t open for interpretation. They are of the belief that the author said what was meant to be said the way it was meant to be read. It’s absolute.

I am, in no way, making an excuse for my son. However, he is not hardwired to be a sheep being lead by a shepherd. His way of being does not involve tedious hours behind a desk doing repetitive work that he understood the first time he did it. It’s literally torture for him to have to sit still. Yes, he has ADHD, but not to point where he is suffering an unable to keep up with academics. His brain is moving so fast that the world just can’t simply keep up. They are stagnant and boring and he needs stimuli.

But I tell him again that accepting to fail or giving up because he is struggling is never an option. I told him that it’s ok to struggle with something but that chosing to avoid it will never work. I begged him to remember that my job is to help him succeed. It was one of those “broke through a wall” moments where I think he understood me just a little bit more and I realized where our break down started: Communication and speaking his language. He has always marched to a beat of his own drum, and that is my favorite quality about him. It’s also my least favorite, as far as finding parenting methods that work.

I went to bed feeling like I had just gone 9 rounds with George Foreman. I was exhausted. Mentally drained! It's like we're each speaking a different language when I am trying to communicate with him. He is so closed up and reserved and I am an open book. Every day I try to find a new tactic to try and understand him or make him understand me. There is no right way, I've learned. He's not broken, so I cannot fix him. He's just complicated. I have to try and pick my battles and remember that his way of doing things doesn't have to make sense to me, even if I would kill to understand it, and pray that something I'm doing or saying eventually is logical in his mind.

 Have you ever tried reasoning with a Vulcan?

 

 

How do I politely say "DUH"?

I just was given the opportunity to take a class/training, through work, on Introduction to Analytical Skills. It was an interesting class for sure. During much of the class, I kept thinking that I knew a few people who might benefit from a class that tries to encourage thinking outside the box.

But today, I get a task from a Supervisor in our unit noting that an item hadn't been properly updated.

OK, here's the thing...I'm no genius and no one is perfect, but I am good at my job...dare I say, GREAT. I can say this with confidence, because everyone I work with compliments me. I take pride in my work. So to see that something wasn't done was shocking. At first I questioned myself, wondering what could have gone wrong. Perhaps I entered the wrong date?

Then I go into the system. I look, and sure enough, it's not updated for the date in question. Weird!!! But then I look again at the original paperwork. The dates originally requested were February 1, 2012 through April 1, 2012. She highlighted that April 1, 2012 through April 30, 2012, noting that they were not also updated. Then my eye catches it. Um, DUH. I can't updated "April" because the original request only goes through April 1st, not through the entire month. So, no, it did not get updated, because that is not the way the paperwork is set up.

So now I find myself having to sit back and reflect on a) Why do these people make 3x more money than me, but can't figure out this work?; and b) How do I nicely say "DUH" to a Supervisor?

I shall defer to MY Supervisor for direction. LOL. Yes, that was a work rant. It's irrelevant and changes nothing in life. It doesn't even actually affect me AT ALL. Yet, I felt the need to vent. Thanks for listening my friends!

Being an auntie...

...it's pretty much exactly like being a parent, except that you don't keep them. And usually they get away with a wee bit more than your own kids. Well, that's true for me anyway. At any given time, on any given day, we can have anywhere from 1-6 extra children coming and going from our house. Since I'm the "bread winner", Uncle gets the brunt of the duties after the kids get off school. He has to do all the lame stuff like homework. Yawn!

But then I have my babies on the weekends. This weekend, I had four extra babies total. Aden (7) & Abby (5) (my bff/cousin's kids) spent the night so they could have a date night. Believe me, it was must deserved. A&A get along with my kids so well. It's not even like having extra children, honestly! They disappear into the bedroom and play so nicely together. It's very little work on my part. You never realize how amazing having a best friend is, until your kids are also best friends!

So I'm prepping some lunch for Abby after church and I show her the Tupperware cup and earrings I bought her mother as a birthday present. She takes one look at the earrings and says, "My mom actually doesn't wear earrings, so she won't want these." I laughed internally. Her attitude is second to none. So I tell her that her mom actually told me she wanted those specific earrings. To that she replied, "Um...she's probably not going to wear them." hahaha! She is too funny.

Then, the kids and husband are all on video games in the back rooms playing together so I think I'm going to sneak away to the living room and watch Netflix on my laptop. I just stared watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, from the beginning. So shoot me, I loved that show! Anyway, Abby comes in about half way through one episode, and sweet, talkative, inquisitive Abby sits down next to me, promising that vampires don't scare her.  Then the non-stop questions begin: "Why does her face look that way?" "Is that a vampire?" "I can't see her teeth." "I almost have vampire teeth....SEE?" "OOOOOH, I saw her teeth!" "What is she asking him about?" "She can't kiss him or she'll turn into a vampire!" "She kissed a vampire?"... I can't even be mad...first of all, she's a girl after my own heart, and second of all, she's interested in MY shows. One more bonding experience we got to have!

 

Then she goes home, Aden stays to entertain Raul and my two little nephews come over. Maxxamillion, who is almost 2, with no desire to speak whatsoever, is literally an extension of my own children. He spent most of his life coming over on weekends while his parents (my brother and his fiance) were working. I bought special baby equipment and chairs for him so he could be comfortable. So having him over is so natural. But now he has a baby brother, who is 3 months old.

Baby Gunnar is so adorable, but man, is he a cranky pants. Poor guy has tummy issues already and is very gassy (my middle son was the SAME way, so I have understanding and patience that my brother lacked in the beginning). Unfortunately, Gunnar was not ready for mommy to go back to work. He refused to take a bottle for a few days. I ended up buying him a $10 bottle that he found suitable to his specifications I guess. Now that he's eating and accepted that mommy works, he tends to be much happier! Unfortunately, when daddy dropped him off last night, he was asleep, and then Uncle laughed too loudly at the TV, and he woke up on the WRONG side of the car seat! Poor guy.

All the while, Maxx is trying to give me the bottles of breast milk. What a helpful brother. Except, baby didn't want food. He just wanted to yell and tell me how upset he was that he was woken up prematurely. So, Maxx decides to be a curious little monkey and I see him walk past with a 2 foot screw driver. And, if you know anything about children, you don't panic in these situations. So I calmly said, "What are you doing with that?" And he smiled his ornery smile. Raul is in love with his cousin, and very patient as well. He calmly took it away and continued on playing. Kids are too funny and random with the things they want to play with!

Out of my 4 siblings, I have: Hunter (would have been 12), Leighna (10), Ella (8), Grayson (6), RyLeigh (almost 5), Brawn (3 1/2), Maxxamillion (almost 2), Paloma (4 months) & Gunnar (3 months). My brother-in-laws blessed me with: Eileena (14), Selena (13), Lokelani (6) & Ailani (almost 6). This does not include my cousins' kids who I'm honored to be autie of, those names and ages are too numerous to count (today anyway).

Who ever knew that so many heart strings could exist for these little people who you get to watch be born, swaddle as infants, help up as toddlers, encourage as preschoolers, enthralled as they are school aged, laugh at the ridiculousness of teenagers, and yet you love them at every stage in life. And you want to hold and hug them all the time, at the same time. And some of them will let you and some will be too cool, and eventually they will outgrow your lap, but they are each pieces of me. I just hope they always lean on me as they continue to grow and experience new things in life! I don't want to miss one minute!

Just an example of the randomness of this house.

Tonight my 12 year old son asks my husband (his step-dad) a question. The craziness ensues as follows:

Remy: Mar, what's your favorite Assassin's Creed?
Mario: {{Insert geeky video game answer here}}...except I don't like that he becomes a Templar.
Me: What's a Templar?
Mario: It's got two different [we heard] sex.
Me & Remy: O.o  {shocked glances}
Me: A hermaphrodite?
Mario: {Eye Roll and sounds out...} SECTS. Se-c-t-s. 

Much laughter. Then Mario proceeds to explain the Templar's, but I'm completely not listening because I'm so busy laughing.

Me:  Sorry. I have no idea what you're saying. I checked out at "sex". 

At least I'm not alone. Remy heard it too!

No Feelings??

"Where did she get that phrase?" "What does it mean?" These are the questions you are probably asking yourself. Let me illuminate the situation...I have what I like to call a "no nonsense" approach to parenting. I am a tell it how it is kind of a person. That's no difference with my kids.

Picture this, several years ago, my 4 year old son comes running into the living room sobbing for, what I am well aware is, no reason! The scene progresses as such:

 

4 year old Raul: (Crying. For no reason.)

31 year old Me: (Annoyed) Why are you crying? Are you hurt?
Raul: (Still crying) He hurt my feelings!
Me: (Here it comes. The 7 words I will never live down…)
WE DON’T HAVE FEELINGS IN THIS HOUSE!

My youngest child is what my best friend refers to as a “Sensi”. He’s “sensitive”. Translation: He cries over EVERYTHING. My best friend, who is also my cousin, apparently completely understands what it is like to be so “sensitive”. I, on the other hand, do not.  If I’m physically hurt, I don’t cry (not never, but it’s rare). I know as a child, I did on occasion if the pain was horrible. But if someone hurts my feelings, I shrug it off or get pissed. I do NOT cry. I am not trying to be any sort of superhero, but seriously, I didn’t even cry during child birth. No screams. No curses. I did not blame my husband (either of them). I closed my eyes, held onto the bed rail, breathed deep and dealt with it. Now, granted, I had it easy. My labors were all under 4 hours. God bless those of you who endured 8+ hours of labor. I couldn’t imagine how horrible. But seriously, I don’t think I have patience for that long of labor anyway. It all circles back to me being a complete a-hole about feeling feelings.

But my darling, sweet, caring, sensitive baby boy wears his feelings on his sleeve, as does my teenage daughter. She’s also what Dena, my bff/cousin, calls a “sensi”. They cry a lot. My daughter cries about random things, and the older she gets, the more she cries because she is trying to be independent and we are holding her down. Or because she is a teenager and as we are all WELL aware, she knows everything. My baby boy, now he’s a good listener, and isn’t rebellious most of the time. But when he acts up, he is too busy having meltdowns to realize he’s not really even in trouble; not until he has the meltdown, at which time my head explodes and I want to wring his neck.  He doesn’t even let you finish a sentence. He hears what he perceives is a “no” and automatically the waterworks begin and he runs off down the hall crying.

That’s his coping mechanism for having an a-hole mom who says regularly, “No one wants to hear you crying! Go away.”  Here’s the things I cannot wrap my head around…WHY? I am always asking him why he is crying about things. Recently he walks in sobbing. Here was my response, which as you will learn about me, is typical of me:

Me: Why the hell are you crying?

Raul: I can’t hear the sound on the TV.
Me: (Rolls eyes) And is crying about it helping you hear it better?
Raul: (Stunned and shocked at the realization that it is not) No.
Me: Did you ever bother to think of saying, “Hey mommy, could you please help me”? Turn your tears off (I say those words VERY often).
Raul: (Wipes eyes) Mommy, could you please help me?

So I go to the TV, fix a cord and viola! It works. I am a freakin’ magician. Magically his face has changed from sorrow and despair to a regular smile. I adore THAT face. He’s a cutie-butt and KNOWS it. When he is being cute, he’s ADORABLE!  I may be an a-hole, but I love my kids with all my heart. They are, and it’s not because I’m biased, some of the cutest kids in existence. I did a great job! Not only are they cute, but they are smart. And their sole survival ability is that they ARE cute and smart, because otherwise, I may have had to end them. (Oh c’mon, Bill Cosby said it too. I wouldn’t ACTUALLY kill my children, I’m not one of those psychos. But they have made me crazy enough to speak it out loud! You’ve all thought it at one point or another. Don’t be so shocked that I had the balls to say it.)

Viva La Internet

You may all now welcome me to the 21st Century. I FINALLY have internet in my home. Comcast came and hooked it up. Now I can blog/rant/drone on and on for all of your enjoyment. WOOHOO. No longer am I having to work solely from my phone or work computer. Yes, I said work computer. Let's just say I use it for personal uses ONLY on break. Yeah. That's gotta be true.

So, happy weekend to everyone. I am going to my BFF's (The Blodgett's) tonight for broccoli & cheddar soup. I hate soup, but somehow, I LOVE Dena's b&c soup. My boys spent the night there last night, so we've been home having an 'only child' experience with my daughter. In hind sight, having an only child would have been an interesting life. She's SO easy and we get along so well. LOL. "We" and in she and I. Not always husband and daughter.

Anyway, this has been the most sporadic post ever. Not sure I'll keep it, but for now...peace out. Enjoy your weekend, friends.

Woke up on the fat side of the bed today

Yup. It's one of "those" days. Can't find any clothes that fit. Even your fat pants are too tight. Feels like everything is hanging out in all the wrong places. Breathing even feels labored. What the heck? The pants I wanted to wear have the double hook buttons. The top one seems to have gotten loosened in the wash, so it doesn't clasp correctly, therefore the bottom button won't stay shut. I tried to MacGyver it a little bit, but every time I moved, the bottom one popped open too. I can't have that at work.

I should have thrown on the trusty "stretch skinny jeans". Oxymoron at its finest! Lots of wiggle room, or in my case today, jiggle room! (Not to be confused with jeggings! These are actual jean material and not leggings--just to be clear.) This shirt used to fit differently too! I used to be able to pull it down around my hips (Where DID those hips come from?) and have plenty of finger space on either side. Now? Ha! If I can squeeze it down around these bad boys, it's a surprise. Today I couldn't, of course. So maybe I indulged and ate that strawberry cheesecake ice cream last night. I highly doubt that a few scoops is going to increase my waist size over night. Wait, is that a thing? Well, apparently it is. I just feel bloated and gross. What the heck? I eat healthy 90% of the time!

But here I sit, trying to concentrate on work. My friend just sent me an email with the wrong use of  "their". Then she emailed back and realized she used the wrong form of the word. I told her "my pants are cutting off the circulation to my brain, so I didn't even catch it!" And that is saying something. I'm completely obsessive with using the correct forms of words, including proper spelling and grammar. I blame the pants!!!! I wish there was a Target or Walmart within walking distance. But alas, here I sit, suffocating in my own fat roll and self pity.

Hope you're all having a splendid day though!

 

 

Women's Lib? Ha!

I'm not an expert on anything, honestly. But I am very opinionated. I would like to believe that I was raised a certain way, and I also believe that my beliefs NOW differ slightly in some ways. I've been accused of being selfish in the past when I want to have a "girls night out" (once or twice a month). And it infurated me. I've been told to get my priorities straight and "think of how your husband feels." That leaves me bewildered.

A friend (currently in her 4th month of pregnancy) recently was having some issues with her husband and people keep telling her to be patient. That, of course, infurated her. She said to me, "I can see why it would upset you when people tell you to be a better wife. LOL. Why do people get to act like idiots and it's everyone else's fault but theirs??" My answer turned into a rant. Please excuse the language:

Because people like to think about the way things “used to be”. Well now, in the 21^st Century, it’s not about the husband going to work and the wife keeping house and raising kids. That life doesn’t exist. For some people it does, but it’s not realistic. The idea of women doing anything else but raise children used to be unheard of. Now, we have more women working than men probably (not sure on that statistic).

 But NOW, since we work all day too, why would we NOT expect our husbands to keep house and raise our children? Turn-about is fair play, is it not? Why shouldn’t it be? I don’t fucking care if I can vote. I don’t care if a man makes more money than I do. I care that my husband, my partner, is expected to be MY PARTNER. They are OUR children. It is OUR house. You don’t want to/can't work? Well, then you get to keep house. It’s that simple. If we both worked, we would be expected to split more responsibilities.

And no one batted an eye back in the day when men went to “gentleman clubs” or bowling leagues or moose lodges, or played sports with their friends or went out for a drink after work. It was expected to be the norm. WHY NOT FOR US? My mom KNOWS what it is like to be oppressed by her husband who won’t work. She was just brainwashed for so many years that “women have a place” and I don’t buy into that bullshit. My place is wherever the fuck I choose it to be.

 Yes, that’s a rant. I don’t care. You work hard. You own a freaking house. You are currently creating a child. Bringing life into the world. Can your husband do that? NOPE. He couldn’t own a home on his own. He BARELY owns a car. He couldn’t create a child. He is absolutely expected to pick up slack when you cannot…even if the reason is that you are too tired. Ridiculous. Just ridiculous.

 

Her response was golden. We are friends for a reason. LOL. She replied: *slow clap*

And there, my friends, is a glimpse into the way my brain works. Not to be rude, but I don't care who agrees with me. It is MY opinion. We're all entitled to have one of our own. I hope you stick around though. There's so much more that goes along with it. XOXO

THIS...

This is why I do what I do. This is why I struggle every day. This is why I stress and worry and nag and roll my eyes and get headaches and feel defeated and act like a world class b*tch. This is why my heart beats. This is what keeps me going and encourages me. This is where my joy is. But do not get it confused, no matter how much I love them and how many emotions they stir in me, WE DON'T HAVE FEELINGS IN THIS HOUSE!

Disclaimer: That's not me dressed as a Storm Trooper. I have much better aim!