A dingo got my baby!

We went to the one horse town this weekend to visit our very bestest friends Jeff & Candace. We had a great time as always. They took us to a get together, with all 25 of the townspeople, Chad and I are such party animals everybody had to keep telling us to sit down and shut up. Quit dancing atop of the tabletops already the townspeople yelled, what kind of an example were you people setting for the children? Oy. I think I talked to 4 people the whole evening, including Chad & Candace. I'm not exactly overly friendly in big groups. Poor Jeff & Candace, they are very social people. I am sure they wonder daily how they ever hooked up with us losers. *sigh*

We had a great time. Oh yeah, except we lost Connor and the Highway Patrol had to bring him back to the house. Yep, you read that right, we lost Connor in the land of the sage brush. It was quite scary. The kids were out playing in the "yard" and it was FREEZING, because, well, it's always freezing where there is sage brush. The four adults, a term I use loosely, were in the house drinking coffee, laughing, enjoying the peace and quiet. About an hour later here comes Trent and Brady, red nosed and looking like little Popsicles. Where is Connor we ask? He's in the house, the boys replied. Um, no he's not. Fast forward 45 minutes later, all adults are out combing the countryside looking for our little 5-year-old asthmatic in the freezing butt cold land of wild animals, abandoned mines and dried up wells. Every bad thought and scary thing that could have happened to him was screaming thru my head. I wondered out loud if in a town of 3000 do they even have a search and rescue? OhMyGAWD. I was thinking we were going to have to stay here forever until we found Connor. Candace had sent her teenage niece, Tasha, up the road to search for our little lost soul. I was pacing in the house waiting for an adult to come back and watch Candace's youngest, Allison, so I could go and scream for my son myself. The phone rings, it's the niece, Tasha. "Jodi, we have Connor, he flagged down a car for help and they called the Sheriff, you gotta come down here and let them know that you're his Mom". OHMYLORD. Candace went and fetched him from the Highway Patrol and I didn't stop shaking for an hour.

Apparently what had happened was that Connor told the big boys, 7 & 8 year-olds, that he wanted to come back to the house because he was cold and the boys said okay, fine go. Because boys that age are VERY considerate and caring that way they set the poor little guy on this merry way alone. Well, Connor got lost and wandered around until he found a road. After he couldn't figure out which way to go, or where the house was from there, he FLAGGED down a car for help. Thank God it was not a pedophile looking for a new act in his Internet live stream show called, "From the clubhouse" and the nice lady who found Connor called the cops. (yes, I watch too much Law & Order what can I say?)

To say the whole thing was scary is a gross understatement. It didn't even occur to me to warn the boys to stay in the yard. I didn't think they would ever wander so far away from away from the house that they couldn't find their way back. And there we were in the house the whole time enjoying the peace and quiet. In the hour that he was lost I was imagining the news crew showing up and me standing there with my hair standing on end in my old ratty gray sweats with bleach spots saying to the channel 6 news crew, in a Southern accent, "I just don't know what happened. We were in the house drinking our whiskey sours and them kids were right there playing in the old truck, I swear. And then poof, the little one was gone. It's the strangest thing ya'll." Either that or screaming that a dingo got my baby, in an Australian accent. One or the other. Apparently in times of stress my brain turns to other dialects for comfort, hey, I have never ever claimed to be sane, people! I really would love a Southern accent in real life, I think it sounds soooo very cool. Anyway...

The whole experience was quite terrifying. When we go back up there, we were invited for New Year's, those people must be sadist's, I told the kids if they go outside I am going to tie them all together with the dog's leash and give them a bullhorn. Connor told me not to worry, he was never going outside again. And for that I was thankful.

I have turned into my Mother

No, it's true. I have turned into my Mother. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my Mom, I do. But, no matter how much one loves their Mother, you don't want to BE her. Am I right?

The clues have been showing themselves for a while now. When I am particularly stressed or busy and I glimpse a quick glance at myself in a mirror or any shiny surface really, my Mother's reflection is staring back at me. It makes me gasp and jump every single time. My Mom had that look on her face my entire childhood. That look that says, "I am miserable. I am tired. I am feeling a little resentful for all you little buggers and the responsibilities that I have taken on. But, I am doing it because, well, it's my job and I have to". OY.

Last night I was watching the American Music Awards, because I am an awards show junky. and despite the kids being sent to bed they were wandering in and out of the living room as is their custom. As Trent would drift through getting a drink, blowing his nose, giving me a kiss, or asking how many years it would before he could get a driver's license he would stop and gaze at the TV. Then he would make little comments regarding the many half dressed women parading themselves, or worse straddling poles and singing about undoing their buttons, across the stage in various stages of undress. "WHOA", he'd say emitting a soft whistle or "Yeah, un-huh", as he was arching his eyebrows with a twinkle in his eye. I heard myself saying, "Where are those women's clothes? Why doesn't Sharon Stone EVER wear a bra? This show is not appropriate for children, Trent go to bed and I mean now!" And, it was my Mother's shrill stressed voice that was coming from my mouth. Along with the words I have heard myself a gazillion times growing up. And, so the realization that I have turned into my Mother continues. That and the knowledge that she is very smart and astute in her observations! :)

I realize that Trent is a boy and it is part of normal development from him to notice attractive women. But, it saddens me and I would be lying to say it doesn't panic me a bit too. What do I know about boys and puberty and hormones? That answer to that, my dear friends, is absolutely nothing. I look to my lovely husband for answers, as he is more versed in the area of male sexuality than I, and he just giggles. He is not much help. *sigh*

Watching the American Music Awards angered me a bit too for a whole different reason. What progress as women have we made, really? Every act, just about, had half naked women gyrating on the stage objectifying themselves as sexual beings. And the Pussycat Dolls were crooning about undoing buttons and had skirts so short that they were virtually invisible. What happened to the women's movement? Why do women demand to be treated as equals when as a society we are so entertained and bemused by women who are used as nothing more than a prop? And, how as a Mother of two boys, am I supposed to inculcate in them that women are real people, not just objects for your viewing pleasure, who are their equals? Huh? How am I supposed to do that?!?!

And, just now I realized I really AM my mother. She is a big time feminist, always has been, as children she use to tell us that after Cinderella got married and went back to Prince Charming's castle her life consisted of picking up his dirty socks and making his dinner--the message, there is no Prince Charming, girls. And I am now realizing I must be a bit of a feminist myself. WOW. Please excuse me, I need to start drinking heavily so that I can drive from my consciousness that I indeed am my Mother.

It's my blog and I'll cry if I want to

Yes, I am feeling a bit melodramatic. Sue me.

Today at work I spoke with a lady who was looking for mental health providers and wanted the name of hospital to go to, she felt like she needed inpatient care. And I was having the hardest time finding her a provider. She sounded SO sad and so despondent. We were told in training if we ever got a suicide caller {PLEASE, if you ever feel suicidal do NOT call your health insurance, I am here to tell you the poor shumuck who answers the phone is NOT a mental health professional, nor do we play them on TV, call a hotline or a doctor's office, PLEASE} to NEVER put them on hold but to flag down a supervisor to take a call. My caller wasn't suicidal but she was feeling like she needed inpatient care, to me that's a cry for help--- HELLO, and do you think I could find a supervisor? Ummmmm-NO. I could have shot a canon through that place and not hit a supervisor. I found some names of professionals for my caller to get a hold of. But, I hung up the phone feeling shaky. I felt like I didn't help her AT ALL. I was very emphatic and as helpful as I could be and I pray she knew that. And she was calling me from a parking lot, in her car, wanting me to tell her who to go and see. It was awful, horrible, and just terrible. Three hours later I FINALLY found my supervisor and she was about as comforting as porcupine holding a thumbtack. *sigh* I DO know what to do next time and that makes me feel a tiny bit better. This was seriously the worst call I have taken in my 6 months at this job. I don't think I will EVER forget it. And not in a good way.

When I was driving home, on the way to my kid's parent teacher conferences as I was trying to keep it together, I was wondering why this call bothered me so much? Is it because I have felt that depressed before? Is it because I have known lots of people, some of my very close friends even, who have felt that bad before? Or is simply because I am a helper and a fixer? I love the strokes I get from callers who tell me how helpful I was or how they wished they could call back and get ME personally again. I really love to hear that. I like to feel like I am excelling at my job. I did NOT feel like I was call center operator extrodiniar today. And frankly, that sucks. BIG TIME. *sigh*

I know a few things for sure, I do NOT ever want to work on a crisis line,my supervisor did say to expect more of these types of calls because tis' the time of year for major depression--at least I know what to do for next time!, well if I get many more calls like the one I did today I am going to need mental health for myself, that's for sure. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I went to both of the boys' parent teacher meetings today. Gawd, I hate those parent things. They are both doing okay. They both visit too much in class and need to slow down on their homework and do a neater job. I was like, yeah, tell me something I don't know and then tell me what I can do about it. I got blank stares back from both teachers. Thanks for nothing, teach. However, both teachers did tell me that both the boys are VERY polite and well behaved and that makes me extremely happy. Especially Connor because at home he's a lot of things but polite and well behaved would not be two of them! At least he KNOWS how to behave when it counts.

I don't know how or why, but Connor has figured out that s-h-i-t spells a naughty word. I don't even say THAT word. I may say damn or son-of-a-bitch, but that's it. Connor finds the whole concept quite hilarious and trys to play around with the whole idea. He has also figured out that you flip somebody off with your middle finger {and I swear to you I haven't flipped anybody off since high school, so he didn't learn it from me...maybe from my MOM or GRANDMA?!?!?!?!} and has been playing around with that too. *sigh* At least his Kindergarten teacher didn't need to mention THAT to me! I should be thankful I am suppose.

Alright, any advice, comments, or simple commands to suck it up will be appreciated. Okay, so I probably won't appreciate a suck-it-up comment, but I will appreciate that you DID comment none the less. :)