Mom looks

We are one short in our office right now.
It makes for interesting dialogue.  The filters are not always on like they should be.  Blame it on the fact we that much busier, but when talking with a student being bull headed or not thinking, the mother in me comes out.
Any of my own personal children could tell the student standing in front of me what he/she should expect the minute certain words come out or when a particular look floats across their faces.  My son would probably say "RUN!!".
The girls would look at each other and say "Shit, this is gonna be fun!".
Damn, my girls are like me.
Anyway, this brings me to an incident.  No names, no particular inference to a student other than to say as a typical teenager, said student is somewhat rebelling against the parental figures and unwise choices abound. 
Said student proclaimed illness. 
Parents said no.
Said student was not pleased.
I mentioned the obvious fact there was no illness.
Student said that should not matter.
The mom look was applied.
Student went back to class and was just fine.

I rest my case.

Cupckaes

In years past, on New Year's Eve, George and I sit down to talk about the past year and make goals for the new.  Goals that can be achieved together and on our own.  These are not resolutions.  Resolutions get broken.  No, they are goals.  If not achieved this year, then maybe next.
George focused on writing.  Something he does very well.  He wants another book published.  In that George is not exactly young, he would really like to get this accomplished fairly soon.
I focused on food.  I love to cook.  Rather obsessed with it really.   I enjoy cooking for others and have begun catering on a semi-regular basis.  People like what I do and seem to be just fine with paying me for it.  A nice perk to doing something I so enjoy. 
So, when a client asks me if I can do something, the answer is "Sure, I can do that". 
I really have to stop doing that. 
I cannot begin to count the number of times I have said that only to come away and say "Shit!  What was I thinking?  I can't do that!  I have never done that!  I am going to die!"
Last night was one of those times.  I had mentioned to a coworker an idea for cupcakes associated with the theme for a major field day at our school.  Found the idea of making these splendid little cakes online from a contest sponsored by the Detroit Press for the Hunger Games preview.
Kristy said she would help.  Without thinking, I said "Sure, I can do that." 
Kristy baked 10 dozen cupcakes.  I baked 10 dozen cupcakes. 
Kristy brought 10 dozen cupcakes to my house.  That put 20 dozen cupcakes in my house.
Let me do the math for you.  That is 240 cupcakes!  In my house!!  
Have I ever mentioned I have a really tiny house?
Any way, Kristy brought the sweets over and left them.  She does not decorate.  She bakes very well but does not decorate.
It took an hour to get all the peanut butter butter cream made.
Then the seige began.
The first couple looked ok.  Then the zen state was entered.  These suckers were to somewhat resemble beehives with cracker jacks on top.  Caramel syrup (looks a little like honey - read the book to get the references) was drizzled.  2 1/2 hours later, the cakes were done. 
In addition to herding a 3 1/2 year old grandson. 
And constantly stepping over to corgis thinking a cake might fall.  It was so theirs if it did.
They looked pretty damn good.
240 cupcakes.
Sure, I can do that.

Guilt by Association

The sirens the other day did not end up with a phone call to our house.  The one chick still out, checked in and assured the mother hen she was not being life watched anywhere.
I was then told that perhaps I should worry less.  That my imagination seemed to run away with me and was going to end up giving me ulcers, etc.
Did I mention the guilt I was going to apply?
Growing up, guilt was implied from the get go.  Mother was,  hmmm, different some days.  That really doesn't sound nice and I do not wish to be mean or nasty.  Always knew I was loved.  Always.  It is just some days were not easy for mom.  The wear and tear just overwhelmed her.  Hell, just grandmother could do that.  She was one mean and crazy woman. 
Anyway, on those days when life was difficult, problems that seemed almost insurmountable to mother were passed on to those around her.  Their fault and they needed to find the solution.  Pronto.
At the time, I thought it was not a great life to have to deal with a mom who was, as we call now, bipolar.  That no one else understood.  That my life was woefull and bleak. 
Those teenage years can be a bitch!
Looking back, I now realize what I had taught me what I need to know today.  My family knew to watch mom.  To look for the signs a manic phase might be approaching which would also foretell the dark hole to follow.  Sometimes, we could help make the darkness not so bad.  Sometimes it meant we learned to ride the hardness out. 
Mom, in her way, taught me how to live today. While I do tend to obsess about what could happen from any side, I can help prepare for what is coming.  Making some hard decisions and situations at least a little better. 
I told the chick accusing me of worrying to much she should consider herself lucky to have an obsessive mom.  She will thank me when she is 50.

Sirens

It is 4:00 in the morning and I am wide awake.  We live in a small town with a volunteer fire department.  They are summoned to a job through a siren system.  A very good system.  Really.
Except when you are a mom with a really strong tendency to worry. 
One of the daughters was not home.  I would not have know this and would have slept blissfully on in my ignorance had it not been the sirens going off at 3:21. 
Sirens wake me.  As they should. 
Anyway, there were no texts or missed calls.
I went and stood out on the front porch to listen for trucks and ambulances leaving the town to see which way they went.  I resisted the urge to jump in my car and go look.  I did not want to be one of the scanner people and why would I want to come up on accident that could possibly involve someone I know.
I will admit to searching for scanner info on google. 
Surprising at what you can't find when you want it.  You can find out about tours through the Amazon but not local information.  I will find it tomorrow.  When I want Amazonian tours to be provided online at no expense.
So. The coffee is on, the dishes are washed.  Facebook has been checked as have world news sites and Sunday's dinner menu planned. 
And it is only a little before 5 in the morning.
I think I will be doing the motherly thing later in the day and lay on a huge amount of guilt.

Starting again

I have a daughter and grandson moving soon.  That may sound like a natural progression of events and it is.  The problem is my letting go and not directing lives to the way I think they should go.
So, I have to take a step back. 
Well, shit.

Child bearing

Grandson is taking a bath.
Mostly it is because Grandpa and I got tired of listening to him playing 1000 questions.
We have to go through the motions of his saying " I can't do it!" when it comes to taking his pants over his shoes.  He refuses to do it the other way around.  Something does not click in taking the shoes off first. 
So in the bath he goes.  Then there is the washing of the body.  Ash feels the need to talk about body parts and why some have them and others do not.  More than grandma wants to deal with. 
We have all had a turn with bathing Ash.  No one is spared.  Water is splashed, no lotions or body wash is safe.  Dogs are targets.  Peeing from the tub into the toilet is an Olympic event.
George and I look at one another and ask did we not already do this?
There is a reason why younger people have the kids.
Sigh.

New Year

Resolutions are made and broken.  At least that has always been the case with me. 
I refuse to make them this year.  Don't want to let myself down.
Anyway, what I intend to do is let out what has been inside.  In a creative manner.
A friend posted he was the best artist of 2012.  Maybe he is. 
I do know there is something inside of me that needs feeding creatively.  Sure I cook.  Very well thank you.  But I need more.  Maybe this blog will be it. 
No one really reads it.  So maybe the feelings and needs can be met here in a slightly anonymous way. 
We will see.