Sssssh, don’t tell Wizard: he’s getting a cell phone for the last night of Chanukah. WineGuy, in his own peripatetic fashion, agreed to this last week, then changed his mind. Last night WG came to me and asked me if getting Wizard a cell phone was a good idea. I answered unequivocally, “Yes!”

This morning I braved the monsoon and was at the cell phone store before 9:00 a.m. I chose the phone and got him the vanity number I wanted. We programmed a couple things in the phone, and the deed was done.

Wizard has had ups and downs lately, but he has been very good to and for me. I am so happy we can do this for him now.

I am struggling with lots of issues right now. I’ve wanted to crystallize my thoughts and feelings here for days, but I am consumed with the obligations of the season.

What I really need right now is a long chat and some coffee (or a stiff drink) with Sprite. At the moment, I’m settling for a calming trip to the bookstore. My horoscope gave me a message to heed today: “Observe instead of reacting.”

Kris says to breathe. In … out … focus … calm down. I can do that.

Why is it that every time I leave WineGuy home alone with the kids, I come home to a miserable man?

Take today for example. It was a very busy day, running around shopping for Chanukah gifts. After school, I took Wild Thing and Moose to the doctor for WT’s check-up. Then, we stopped at Sam’s Club to drop off and pick up prescriptions, after which we sped home. I started an elaborate dinner of skirt steak, grilled peppers and onions, chimichurri sauce, and guacamole and fed Moose an early dinner before basketball practice. All three boys helped tremendously in preparing dinner:  they cut; they measured; they mixed, they washed; they dried; they cleaned up; Wizard ran the dishwasher, and WT vacuumed. By the time I left for book club, dinner was in the warming oven, and the kitchen was clean. Pretty damned good for a dinner I did not even eat.

I stroll back in the house at 10:30 p.m. after an interesting book discussion and a long chat with Lina. The kitchen is still clean, and WineGuy is sitting at the table reading a book. “How did it go tonight?” I inquired. “It was a disaster,” WG groused. “What happened? Wizard and WT were watching a little TV when I left.” In a nutshell, the boys were overtired, overhungry (?) and yelling out of control. Each and every one of them. Instead of diffusing the situation, WG made matters worse by criticizing Wizard about chewing his fingers and berating Moose for shredding his napkin. Which they, individually, do every day. No one ate much dinner. Wizard refused to wash dishes. WT walked away, and Moose was sent to bed. WG had to put a ton of food away and clean the kitchen. He did not recognize or even appreciate how hard the boys worked to help prepare dinner. When I explained that to WG, he was hardly interested.

Did he thank me for making a nice dinner for him and the boys? No. WG complained that I made too much food. WG complained that I made too nice of a dinner on a night I would not be home. WG complained that he had to clean the kitchen. WG complained that no one helped him. WG complained that the boys’ rooms were a mess. (OK, I shirked my hausfrau duties on that one.) WG complained that the boys yelled all night. When I asked what he did to diffuse the situation, WG answered, “Nothing, I couldn’t wait to get rid of them.” Great, honey, thanks for teaching them coping skills. Not. I did not dare point out to WG that he has trouble maintaining calm here every time I go out at night. I did mention that I have 2 meetings this week, a holiday party, a dress rehearsal, and a concert this week, and that I have a dress rehearsal and seven concerts next week. “What would you like me to do? Cancel all my obligations so I can stay home and police the kids?” I inquired. “No, this isn’t about you,” WG retorted. REALLY? I plan the menus. I shop for the food. I cook the food. I clean up as I cook — unlike his prodigal sister. It is  absolutely about me.

Maybe I need to write another Postcard From The Zone.

= = = = = = = = = =

Dear WineGuy,

These boys are our children, not our slaves. Yes, they should keep their rooms and themselves clean. However, they’re boys; pick one or the other. They went to school all day, ran errands all afternoon, and helped me cook dinner all late afternoon. Engage them to help you clean up after dinner, instead of issuing edicts. Engage yourself to get your nose out of the damn newspaper and your not-insubstantial backside out of that chair. Go out and play with your kids. Teach them how to calm themselves down, and quit picking on every G-d damned little thing. IOW, pick your battles.

Your loving wife,

Alto2

P.S. There is a giant crater in the middle of our 17 year-old mattress. I want a new  bed for my birthday next week . . . and a Bose sound dock. Because I’m worth it.

WineGuy completely and unknowingly scared the snot out of me this evening. He went to bed earlier than I did. I walked into our room just now and found him lying in bed perfectly still, with his eyes closed and his mouth wide open.

He looked exactly the same way my father did the last time I saw him:  lying in bed perfectly still, with his eyes closed and his mouth wide open … ashen gray and dead.   I purposely made a little noise, and WG stirred — thank G-d — to turn off the light. I cannot close my eyes right now. There are too many moribund images floating around my mind’s eye.

::shudder::

Observed or heard today:

1. A one-legged man riding a three-wheeled cycle.
2. DH’s comment observing same, “Well, that’s easier than him trying to ride a bicycle.”
3. A neighbor, the county manager, taking his dog for a walk — literally. He was holding his dachshund in his arms and walking down the street.
4. Wild Thing, on our ride home from a Bar Mitzvah party around midnight, “Did I see you and Daddy dancing? What was that song . . . ‘Suffering’?” It took me a few minutes to realize he meant “I Will Survive”. Bwahhahahahahahaha!

Dear Breakfast Club,

I truly enjoy our meetings, but if I have to sit through another one where all we discuss is Wizard, I’m going to scream. Can we please change the subject?

Love,

Alto2

= = = = = = = = =

Dear Wizard,

We’re pulling your lazy ass out of Algebra I. You didn’t do the work for the course last year, and the Middle School correctly predicted you would not be up to the task. You can’t or won’t work hard, and your teacher fears you’re in over your head. I know you are. I knew you would be, but your father refused to accept that. Have fun screwing around in Advanced Math.

Exponentially disgusted,

Mom

= = = = = = = = = =

Dear Calvin,

I had no idea checks could be washed of their ink. I just went and bought some gel pens today. Alas, they were not purple.

Tangled up in violet,

Alto2

= = = = = = = = = =

Dear Public Elementary School Counselor,

This morning your school psychologist called me in response to an email request to authorize gifted testing for Wild Thing and Moose. The psych has poor focus and an even worse command of the  English language. He got my name wrong and didn’t comprehend my request. He is going to forward my email to you, and I hope you will follow through more competently.

I may not enroll my kids in public school anytime soon, but I want the testing done now because I know how long it takes for the public school system to complete even the simplest task.

Thank you,

Alto2, spelled A-L-T-O-2 (get it right)

= = = = = = = = = =

Dear MIL,

You have sunk to new depths of cheap. I will gladly return the state quarters to you which your loser son gave his dopey daughter (Niece R) to give to Moose. Someone should have told Niece R that Moose should only take the quarters he needed instead of offering him the entire change-purse. I taught him to accept gifts graciously. Thanks for teaching him about “Indian-givers”.

Love,

Alto2, the best damned DIL you have, ever had, and ever will have

Nablopomo ends, and so does hurricane season. This Floridian is pleased that there were no major storms in or near The Zone this year. We have a few weeks of fine weather to enjoy before the full onslaught of tourist season.

Belle, Lina, Calvin — girls’ night out! Sprite, there’s a coffee break waiting for us at the bookstore.

Nablopomo is almost over. I wish I had the time or desire to finish theonth with flair. I’m exhausted from a weekend full of family drama. WineGuy’s siblings are pissed at him. He’s been petulant and depressed for 2 days. The kids have been fighting every time they’re out of the public eye. I’m done.

Just get me back safely to The Zone tomorrow and back to my walks.

Grumblemumblemoan.

No, that’s not a typo. Turkey Day 2009 was a testy affair. To begin with, the meal sucked. My SIL, whom my MIL lauds to be such a good cook, served truly yucky food. There was a salad of spring greens with too much bleu cheese and a thick fig dressing that could have choked a hippo. There was no roast turkey, per se, but a couple of baked turkey breasts slathered with some green slop; the entree looked and tasted like a reject from a Weight Watchers cookbook. There was the usual sweet potato casserole with marshmallows. The gluey mashed potatoes had mushrooms in them — an offense to all edible fungi. The grilled vegetables were swimming in oil. The gravy was lumpy and the color of meconium. SIL’s saving grace was her stuffing popping with fresh herbs and apples. Even the desserts were bad: tasteless mini cupcakes, gloppy apple pie, overly sweet chocolate pecan pie, and something that purported to be German Chocolate Cake.

My kids were travel weary and hungry. They behaved well at the table, but they all were nasty and testy all day. My MIL raved on and on about the accomplishments of the Prodigal Son and Daughter and those of the ragamuffin nieces and nephews from
Fort Lauderdale. WineGuy had little to brag about other than Wild Thing and Moose. Wizard has been very mouthy, aggressive, and disrespectful.

We toured the St. Louis art museum and Basilica today. Wizard and Moose took turns throwing tantrums on the way there and inside. I had visions of being billed for the destruction of priceless objects. Then we had to sit through a pretentious, yet painful, Friday night Sabbath service and a lame pizza dinner at home.

Boy, I hope tomorrow is a better day.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my friends here! We are on a plane for Orlando and then on to St. Louis for Thanksgiving and the Bar Mitzvah of Nephew B, the Prodigal Son.

My small triumph for the day (so far) is that I fit into the airplane seatbelt WITHOUT a seatbelt extender. Woohoo!