remember the alamo (alternate title: this one hurts worse than a severely pulled hamstring)

(3/13/18 End of Term Update: After talking with her history teacher, he informed me that she could retake the test and raise that one major grade to 75 if she did well.  After a long weekend of studying and watching the movie The Alamo (Charlie liked it so much, he watched it twice), she retook the test - aced it - and got the maximum allowable points.  She's since made a 90 on another major history test and now has a passing average in the class.  For that matter, all of her grade averages have come up.  Of course I still feel like a hot piling heap of mama pancake for making her miss the track meet (which wound up being the last meet of the season?!) - and probably wouldn't make that exact same parenting choice again. But on the upside, she's embraced a new attitude toward her homework, is genuinely applying herself and realizing that when she does, she gets very positive results.  Come to think of it, that's kind of the way it works with just about every single thing in life...) 

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Elizabeth is, and always has been, far and away, our most energetic child.  I'm convinced that in-utero she was Baby C, because she was the one that would most often flip, to the point that our ultrasound technician once measured four babies.  It's no surprise then that Elizabeth was the first child to roll-over, crawl, walk, run, climb, ride a bike - break a bone - and gallop on a horse.



Seventh grade is the first year that our children could join a sports team at school, and last year, Elizabeth tried out for - and made - the cross-country team.  This is a big deal, because their 7th grade class has around 1,300 students, so there truly are "spaces" on the team.  In order for her to make the team, she had to run two-miles in under 18 minutes.  When she tried out, she ran two-miles in under 16 minutes.  This was remarkable to me because although she's always on the move - she's never really trained to run.  Here in Texas, there were running camps all summer for kids that were interested in making the team, and we were strongly encouraged to send our interested athletes.   But we didn't send her to any of those camps because: 1. We were traveling a great deal this summer, and 2. Liz has a tendency to faint in hot and muggy weather, and there are few places hotter or muggier than Houston in the summer.

Even though she made the team, got the uniform and matching duffel bag, that didn't automatically qualify her to race in competitive meets. Because, again, due to the size of the team - athletes have to qualify to compete for the three spaces that are available for her school in each event.   Last semester, she ran every single day with her team, and her speed continued to improve, such that in no time flat, she was running two-miles in under 14 minutes, garnering her the nickname, "Lightening Lizzy."



But for whatever reason, her run time would decrease when it was time to qualify, and she couldn't make the cut to be in the top three runners for competitive meets.  Even though she didn't race in the "competitive meet", she would still race in the "open meet" and like clockwork, her speed would increase and she'd usually lead the herd.   More than once, she was the first place girl in a field of more than 100, which made Charlie and I think we needed to seek the advice of a sports psychologist to determine what was happening during the qualifiers that had her holding back?



In the spring, the kids run track. And as much as Elizabeth loved running cross-country in the fall, it turns out she loves track and field even more.  In the past six weeks, she has learned to pole vault, high jump, long jump, hurdle, and sprint.   Running has become a highlight of her life, and over the past couple of months, she has adorned her room in pictures of Usain Bolt, Jackie Joyner Kersee, and Florence Griffith Joyner, including this quote, which I love:



Last week, we learned that Elizabeth had - for the first time ever - qualified to run in the competitive track and field meet that was scheduled to happen yesterday at her school.  There are no words to describe the happiness, joy, and sheer excitement that has been flooding through her veins ever since.  While we are really happy about this too, we've also been worried about her school work. Elizabeth - when she applies herself, does really great at school.  But when she is distracted and dreaming about things like, being in the Olympics one day, school work takes a back seat and is something she tends to avoid like a steaming cow paddy in the middle of the long jump pit.

Earlier this week, the kids had a Texas history test. Yesterday, after Elizabeth had left for school, I received an alert that the grades were in and she had failed it.  Not just a little, but a lot.  As a result, her overall class average had tanked below a 70.  Our pact has been that the only way she can run on the team, is if all of her grades are above a 70.   We've granted her some leniency here and there, because sometimes we're not paying close attention - and sometimes we're soft.  Elizabeth was diagnosed years ago with dyslexia - and I know some of her subjects are more challenging for her. But I also know that she can soar when she applies herself; and lately - she hasn't been.  As a result, her grades have been slipping to the point that she's now got ALL of her mama's attention.  Which is really saying a lot because when you're outnumbered like Charlie and I - try as we might, kids tend to blend in, and sometimes slip under the radar.



Yesterday, I had Carolyn at a doctor's appointment and when I dropped her off at school, I told her that since she'd be seeing her sister, she needed to tell her that she had to come home directly from school and forego the meet.   In hindsight, I'm kicking myself, because I should have gone in to the school and told her myself. And, I also should have talked to the coach, directly.  Because when Carolyn didn't alert Elizabeth until 15 minutes before school dismissed, and Elizabeth alerted her coach - her coach told her she was really frustrated and needs "responsible" kids on the team.   Elizabeth had to hand in her uniform, and came home completely broken hearted.  Last night, she cried herself to sleep because she is so afraid that the coach will never give her a chance to run competitively again, and she's very concerned what her team will think.

I've since been communicating with the coach to let her know that it wasn't Elizabeth's decision not to run - it was my decision, based on her grades.   And while ultimately, school work is her responsibility and she needs to keep it as a top priority, it is my responsibility to ensure she does and I have to follow through with repercussions.   My heart broke in two as I told my weeping daughter last night that she needs to have this same feeling of devastation when she doesn't perform as well as she could have on a test.  And also, what her teacher thinks about her commitment, responsibility and performance is just as important as what her coach thinks. Charlie has been reassuring me we made the right decision, but it just feels so mean.

Interestingly enough, the Battle of the Alamo, which actually began 182 years ago today, was a turning point in the Texas Revolution. This was the battle in which Mexican troops, led under Santa Anna, killed all of the Texian defenders.  The cruelty displayed by Santa Anna during this battle, inspired many more Texians to rise up and fight … and ultimately, led to the Battle of San Jacinto on April 21st in which Texas won it's independence from Mexico.   I'm hopeful that this situation with Elizabeth will also be a turning point, because I know she's smart as a whip, has got the heart of a little warrior, and will do what ever she needs to do to run.



But wow, parenting can be so hard at times.

I'd suggest even harder than Texas history.

working from home

Today is President's Day.

In the United States of America, that means the bank, post office, and schools are all closed.  If you have children that are school-aged, they'll be home from school on vacation, today. And unless you work for the school, post office, or a bank, chances are, you won't be.



For the past year, my team at work has been developing a database that takes complex information from all over the globe, and puts it in to a format that is intended to be very easy to use and understand.  Data visualization is our future - and the more that we can take complicated topics and put them in to a bite size, easily digestible piece, the more we have succeeded.

For example, when you click on an app to see the weather, you want to see a sunshine, or rain cloud, in the exact location where you are searching; not only for that moment - but for the next 12 or 24 hours, or seven-day outlook. You're not interested in all the algorithms and development that goes in to pulling that information from some super cloud of multiple sources on to your phone, but I can tell you that teams of people - over several years - have made it so that understanding what the weather is like will be SO EASY for you, that you can glean everything you need to know in less than five seconds, and whether you should pack an umbrella for your upcoming trip to Dallas.

So that's kind of what my team is doing, but we're evaluating remediation systems which are machines that are engineered to remove contamination from soil and groundwater.  And, by the way, I'm a Geologist, not a software developer or computer programmer.  My ability to navigate things that  are computer related are slim, at best, which is why it's taken the better part of a year and team of experts to help with this initiative.

All this to say, four weeks ago, when I sent out an invitation for a telecom session to 120 people for our global roll-out of this database, today at 1:00 PM CST, I didn't realize that today was a US national holiday and our children would be home from school. And because Charlie and I are neither teachers, bankers, or postal workers - we'd be working.  For that matter, because I've been so busy with this database initiative rollout, it didn't even hit me until yesterday that the kids would be home TODAY.

Since I'm part-time, I'm not even supposed to be working on Mondays - but that's a different matter. Let's just say that because I was working today, my plan was to get to my office early.  My office is a 25-minute drive from the house without any traffic, and the distance from the parking garage to my desk is another 12 minutes, depending upon what kind of shoes I'm wearing.  So if I don't leave my house at least 40 minutes before my first meeting, the chances of me arriving in time are nil. 

Today: the plan was to go to the office. But I woke up to a child that had a bad dream, and a puppy that had a face that looked like a balloon. I don't know what happened to him - but he had some kind of allergic reaction that is now under control, but which completely flipped my morning schedule.  My first conference call was at 8:00 and when I was feeding Ollie Benadryl at 7:15 while still in my pajamas, I knew my window of opportunity for getting to the office had closed unless I wanted to show up in my 'Life Is Good' flannels and slippers.

After the 8:00 call, I had a 9:00 call … and then a 10:30 call, that wound up lasting for almost two hours.  The chance of getting in to the office for my big telecom was not looking so good.  One of the women from my team, who I consider to be my rock in this initiative, is located in Canada and we spoke this morning and walked through the presentation, together.

The plan was that I'd launch the meeting, and welcome everyone to the call.  I'd then give a quick spiel introducing her - and one of the global managers that would be on the call. Then I'd pull up the presentation on my computer, and give her control via our platform, Skype. I should mention that my phone is my computer, I no longer have an office phone.  So as long as I have internet connection, my "phone" works great.   During our dry-run this morning, it worked swell as it does 99.9% of the time.

After my call concluded at 12:30,  I took a quick lunch break to see the children and Charlie.  They were set up in our kitchen area, playing a game of Risk with neighborhood friends. It was a beautiful sight.  I told them that my BIG call was coming up and they needed to stay away from my office area of the house, so there would be no background noise.  Everyone agreed, totally understood, all was good.

At 12:45, I went back in to my home office, closed my sliding glass doors, and launched the meeting. My plan was that I'd log on a good 10 minutes ahead of time so I would have ample opportunity to open the presentation, and "greet" people who logged in to the rollout session.  There was peace in my soul: we were very ready to deliver this material and I was extremely happy with the progress our team had made with this complex effort.

That feeling of peace vanished when at approximately 12:56 my internet connection started to flicker and a pop-up showed that my system had lost signal.  Before it cut out, I thought it would be best to transfer the call to my cell phone, so I could at least keep talking with the people that logged in.  I tried trouble shooting the issue, and nothing was working.

At 12:58, my computer crashed and the whole screen went black. I'd just transferred the call to my cell phone and felt my blood pressure surge when I contemplated not having the ability to launch the presentation or share my screen with my colleague.   With my headphone still on, I yelled out to Charlie, "HELP ME CHARLIE! HELP, HELP, HELP, PLEASE COME RUNNING NOW!!!"

He's got a lot more technical savvy than me, so he was the obvious choice.  Even if he didn't know what to do, just his mere presence would surely help set things straight.

My husband barreled down the hallway with a look of panic on his face, "WHAT'S WRONG? JEN! ARE YOU HURT?" I was pointing at our wireless router in the hallway and yelling, "I NEED A CORD! QUICK I NEED A CORD!"  He didn't know what this meant.  I elaborated, "ACK! THE $%^&ING WIRELESS CONNECTION IS DOWN I NEED A CORD TO CONNECT DIRECTLY TO THE MODEM!"

At approximately 12:59, Charlie pointed out that we'd just moved the modem to the living room, so I hastily unplugged and grabbed my laptop with one hand, my cellphone in the other hand, and with my headset dangling, flew open the door to the office - and ran down the hallway to our living room.  The kids were sitting at the table in the middle of their board game of world domination and I'm gushing like an absolute maniac, "SORRY KIDS! I NEED A QUIET HOUSE WITH SILENCE …. EVERYONE GO OUTSIDE! OUT OUT OUT!"  I sat on the floor in the living room and desperately tried to plug in the modem line to my computer, and it still wouldn't work.  So in that moment, I yelled, "DAMN COMPUTER INTERNET YOU BITE SUCK MEAN!!"

Thankfully, I didn't say anything terribly bad because I looked down at my cell phone, and saw that the timer was ticking on, evidence I was still on the call, and it wasn't on mute.  I could only hope that when my computer crashed, so too did the transferred connection to my cell phone.  But I didn't even bother to ask, "Hello? Is anyone there?" I just hung up the phone and figured if anyone heard me, they'd tell me later.  

I sent an email to my co-presenting colleague which indicated, "Computer Froze!"  She immediately responded that she couldn't dial in either, and was having her own computer issues.  I pulled myself together to dial in to the session from another phone line, and was at least able to talk to the large crowd that had gathered, to let them know we were having technical difficulties.  Kind of like the time when I led a session with more than 100 participants and someone put the call on hold, and everyone got to listen to hold music a la The Carpenters, "Close to You" for a grueling ninety seconds before the offender came back on the line.    Global conference calls can be so hard, especially when you take the "RISK" to lead them from your home office!

(Have you ever seen this: Conference Call in Real Life? <<< This is my life.) 



In the end, by some divine technical miracle, everything worked out - our global manager said a few words - we launched the presentation - it was well received, and our initiative was successfully conveyed to the global organization.   After the call, when I dialed my colleague to convey what had happened, as I've conveyed countless similar "life" stories … she told me that she thinks I'm the incarnate of Erma Bombeck and need to write a book.  I don't see that happening.

But I do see it happening that tomorrow someone will tell me that they heard my maniacal rantings, and feel compelled to illuminate this is precisely why we should make every effort to come in to the office to lead technical presentations where we have a more reliable internet connection.  Assuming, of course, I have any better luck making it to the office, tomorrow.

My first call isn't until 9:00 AM so that's promising.

on the day of the super blue blood moon

So I went back to see my periodontist and she determined that the graft wasn't healing properly, was indeed infected, and she removed the entire thing.  Some of it had started to take, but because she was concerned there could be a more significant infection, she didn't want to take a risk and pulled it all out.  She then had to restitch my mangled gums to my teeth and after a dozen shots of Novocain and another dozen stitches holding my extremely fragile gingiva together - said she'd see me again at the end of this week.

Three hours after my surgery, Charlie left for a several day business trip to California.  Before he said goodbye, he cleaned the kitchen, did a grocery run, and made me a small batch of Jell-O.  He told me he loved me. He was very upset to be leaving me in this condition. He kissed the top of my head.  And then… poof!

He was gone.  

The kids hadn't come home from school yet, so it was just me and Ollie, who was frolicking around the sunny backyard, as puppies are known to do. When Ollie wandered back in to the house, the smell was the first thing to hit me.  It didn't immediately equate that the smell was tied to the dog, so I just walked around the house, drowsy like, with my still fat-feeling lip, looking high and low to see what it was.

And then I saw our puppy. 

He immediately dropped down on the floor and started to roll over, doing whatever he could not to make eye contact with me. I had no idea what was covering his head and body but it was something gross and gooey and my first thought was that he'd rolled in his own poop.  It was so obvious that he'd done something (of which I had no idea), but it stunk to high heaven and he clearly realized that it probably wouldn't bode too well with the lady who gives him cookies.   

I took a picture of him desperately diverting eye contact, which I sent to Charlie with the question, WHY in this moment - when my husband has just walked out the door for a cross-country business trip, and I am home alone, recovering from my second oral surgery in a week, does the dog decide to roll in something that would require a substantial bath?

In THIS moment?  



It struck me as very funny (odd) and funny (ha, ha!) because that's just how it goes. And to be frank it seems to happen a lot with us.  I really don't try to overly dramatize things, just capture the facts.   And I've found that when dealing with these life events - there's a very fine line between humor and hysteria and as much as possible - I try to fall to the side of humor.  Partly because it's better for you and the whole wide world, and at least this week, I can't open my mouth to yell or I'll rip out stitches.

A cyclone of starved kids hits our house between 4:00 and 4:30 every day.  Henry was the first one home from school and while I went to clean my mouth, he ate all the Jell-O.  The triplets were home next and they unloaded? exploded? their gear and set about making snacks and clearing out the cupboards as teenagers are known to do.

William provided great details about a big fight that had happened in school.  This was the second one in as many days.  Yesterday's brawl was between two girls who were fighting over a boy; today's brawl was between two boys who were fighting over, who knows what.  One of the kids on the bus had filmed it with his iPhone which he was passing around and sharing with his fellow riders. The video showed a larger boy, wailing on a smaller boy, who was curled in a ball with his hands pulling a hood up to cover his head.

William told me he didn't want to see the video and looked away after a few seconds. He said he couldn't stop thinking about how terrible the smaller kid must have felt.  Junior high school can be challenging enough as it is, without getting beat up in front of every one while kids are filming it.

"Mom, were you serious about buying land in northern Glacier and homeschooling us?" he asks.  Yes, I was serious. When it was July and we were in Montana.  Considering I responded to this most recent cold snap (IN TEXAS) like one of those poor frozen iguanas that were falling out of trees in Florida, I let William know I'm not so sure I could handle the Montana climate in the winter.

"OK, so what about a farm in Georgia?" he asked. "Hmm. That would be peachy," I replied.

Carolyn took the initiative to give the puppy a bath and while outside, identified that he'd been rolling around in one of our rotted out October pumpkins that the kids had been trying to germinate.  Considering he'd been laying on our breakfast nook rug, I'm so glad it wasn't poop.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth conveyed to me another situation that had happened at school. Her friend keeps using bad language. Really bad language. Elizabeth thinks its because she wants attention, but it's starting to wear on her.  She said that on this day - during lunch - she finally told the girl, "Listen, I think you're really great and smart, and when you use that bad language it's really not nice and it bums me out. You're so much better than that. Can you please just STOP with the bad talk?"  She said the girl put her head down and said, "I'll try."

"Wow, you really did that?" I asked.  She nodded her head, "Yep, I sure did."  I gave her a smile and said, "Well, I'm pretty f - f - f [just kidding!] impressed!"

"MOM!" she said, outraged.

"LIZ!" I countered, as outraged as a ventriloquist can be.

It's so hard being a kid and trying to figure out what's cool and what's not.  Just today, the PE coach sent home a letter asking parents to remind their children that although they don't think gym shorts are fashionable, it's not acceptable to wear shorts OVER their bluejeans and beginning next week, they'll lose points if they don't dress out appropriately.  I wrote to the coach and suggested that they take pictures of the kids and include them in the year book under a section entitled, "Fashion Statements."  Gym shorts over blue jeans?  That's solid gold material for the annals of time.

This day was a pretty average day of happenings, the only difference was that Charlie was out of town, and I was in recovery mode. So a dear friend brought over dinner, and checked in on us.  She is a doctor and insisted I stay on top of the pain, get adequate hydration, and plenty of rest.  As she was talking with us, one of my children who knows better but wasn't thinking, opened one of my sterile medicines that comes in a dropper, and stuck a ballpoint pen in the tip of it.   Because it was there. And … and…?

Reminded me of the time I was talking on the phone and playing with a letter opener when I sliced my finger open.  Since I was in my 30's, I knew better. I just …. wasn't thinking.  As humans are sometimes known to do.

We walked my friend outside to say goodbye and look at the moon. It was spectacular.   We walked back inside and heard the printer which had already printed out at least 50 sheets of paper - and was printing several more - of what we realized was a homework assignment printing mishap.  Paper had spilled out of the feeder and was everywhere.  There might have been a bad word and a slight drift in to the world of ventriloquy hysteria.

After dinner, William and Elizabeth were helping Henry with his homework, which wasn't going well.  I'd love to say they helped him, but the situation went from bad to worse.  When you're 10 and stuck on long division word problems, a pep talk and shoulder rub from your 13-year old siblings isn't particularly helpful.  Nay, it can be downright awful.



As I put away a few things in the kitchen, I found this note from Elizabeth that had been folded in Carolyn's lunchbox.  The awesomeness is the love between siblings which I know is real. So, too, is the teasing. It's a major point of contention that Carolyn, who is purportedly the youngest of the triplets, is a solid eight inches taller than her siblings.  It slays her and her much smaller sister knows.



The day concluded with my supplementary efforts at studying geometry with Carolyn and Elizabeth for a test the next day. The girls were highly complimentary that I could remember so much (from so, so, so, so long ago!) and help them work through their study guide.  We spent a solid two hours reviewing concepts and it got to the point, we could no longer remain vertical.  When Charlie called to say goodnight, I snapped off this picture of us cuddled up and adjacently working through a problem.  I am so acutely loving seventh grade math.  Not to sound obtuse, but from this angle, I wish I could say the same for my seventh graders!

Come on, am I right?



Ha! See, varying degrees of humor abound!