Thursday, September 23, 2010

My Bodyguard

Apparently my kid was paid a dollar to provide protection to a smaller kid at school.

I responded in an appropriate way - "He's your friend, not a client. You need to give him the dollar back. Is he ok? Are there physical threats of violence?" Concerned Mom asks. I am assured that it is just an 8th grade bully picking on an exceptionally small 6th grader. I am not assured. Where are the grown ups? Why do we even have middle schools? These 6th graders are so little.

In my head I am thinking, A buck?! That's what protection goes for these days? Does that seem low? Is it the Recession?

Also? I feel relief that my kid is not the one being bullied, nor is he the one bullying. I think I would rather deal with the issue of returning the dollar and being a good friend for the principle of it.

Parenting is hard. And we project our own issues onto them no matter how healthy we might think that we are.

Tomorrow I need to call the Dad of the kid who is bullied. I know him and while I don't know a lot about him, I do not think that the bullying will surprise him. I want to make sure that his son is safe. And I want him to know that his son is so scared that he is paying other kids to protect him. That seems significant to me.

The Assistant Principal and Math Teacher want to talk about why my son is always late to his first period class. I could care less.

I am a good mom. And I need to act like I care that my son is usually one minute late to his first period class. I do think there are bigger issues going on at that school and I need to bite my tongue on that one when I nod and assure them that I tell my son how important it is to be on time for class. And then I need to call a Dad to talk to him about something that truly matters that the school cannot help us with.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Steak, Lobster and Chick Peas

I am at Max's Kansas City tonight listening to the House Band. Which is to say that I went to work, went to parent teacher conferences, picked up Chinese take out (beef lo mein, orange chicken, general tso's and veggie fried rice),dropped a kid off at play practice (she took the lo mein), got the others started on homework, washed the breakfast dishes and initiated my Happy Birthday turn table (thank you, Bill!) with some Velvet Underground. Bill worked late.

I spent part of my day researching electronic notebooks and writing a procedure for paperless (I prefer the term Less Paper) bankruptcy files. My biggest issues are my interview notes and phone contact notes. I upgraded my electronic Post Its. I experimented with electronic bulletin boards and tried to find something visually like what I use but with more sharing potential and less clutter.

I usually listen to my ipod at work - radio, playlists and podcasts. (Though I also have a turntable in my office (my office Lou Reed is limited to "Rock N Roll Animal" since that's one of the six records I keep there.).)

So, a typical work day, parent stuff, take out and dishes. I put on 'The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan" while I cleaned up the kitchen, and when Side A ended, I had to dry my hands and walk in the other room and flip the record over.

It is the consciousness of records that I love. I think about the song that ended. I want to hear more. I stop what I am doing and I flip the record. (And if you have something that you loved on vinyl, you know the end of Side A when you get to it even if it's a CD and it just plays through, don't you? :-) )

In a related area of my life, I have become a total convert to the Kindle. Though I have noted that it is also less conscious in some ways. I forget the name of the book I am reading and I have no idea how long it is or how much I have read (though there is a percentage-y thing in the corner). An e-book has a different being than a paper book. It lacks some character, but totally makes up for it in convenience and readability. I like the convenience of being able to download a new book immediately, but I have found that I need some breathing room to digest what I just read.

All of my work research is now done electronically. It's funny to me that we still take "professional" pictures in front of law books, even though we haven't updated the books in years and no one uses them except to take pictures. We recycled a ton of paper recently and got rid of a lot of law books. We kept a shelf of them for a photo backdrop. It seems like we could just photo shop that in...

Later tonight I will head to the studio to dance to my latest play list of Electronic Klezmar Balkin and hip hop/classic rock Mashup. Not available on vinyl. And besides, the needle would skip when I jumped around.

I am really coming to the conclusion that I am the perfect age for all of this - embracing the past and present and future - using them all when needed. (Also, NanoNovel Idea - A Christmas Carol in techno - "A Techno Carol" - Scrooge is visited by a typewriter, a computer and ? or record/cassette/CD/mp3.)

"You can dance if you want to," suggests Lou.

Wednesday, September 01, 2010

Guts on the Ground

I was unpacking vegetables from our vegetable share on Monday night when Mary burst in the front door to tell me that Frank had been hit by a truck.

My organic tomatoes were carefully packaged in a plastic box inside a cardboard box with bubble wrap on the sides.

Every parent knows what I mean when I say that I wish my kids could go through the world in a plastic box inside bubble wrap.

I threw the tomatoes on the counter and ran out the front door without shoes. I realized as I pushed the front door open that I did not know where he was. It became clear to me as soon as I got outside. Traffic was stopped in the corner intersection. A small crowd was gathered. I hesitated for just a second. My stomach leaped up and I immediately thought he was dead. Or at least splattered guts. In half a second I prepared myself for that and knew that I just needed to be with him no matter what. I did not know what I would find when I pushed through the crowd of people. What I saw - the only thing I saw - was my son's face. I crouched over him in the street and he put his arms around my neck and said, "Mom?" I knew then that his brain was ok. I forced myself to look at his legs. They looked twisted and bloody. He was pinned beneath his bike which was pinned beneath the truck. I lay over him and held him without moving him and talked to him.

I heard the siren coming and got in the ambulance with him. I could see my husband and my kids and my neighbor. I could not tell you what the driver looked like. I could not see him. Bill brought me my shoes and my purse. Frank and I went to the hospital for xrays and tests. We watched the White Sox beat the Indians. And they bandaged him and sent him home. The police officer helped me piece together what happened. Frank and Mary were on their way home and riding on the right side of the road. A driver turned right and did not see Frank and ran right into him.

No dead boy. No broken bones. No concussion. Some serious road rash. That's it.

Frank's recovery continues to amaze me. He is sore and hobbling, but he is really and truly ok. I think I have post traumatic stress, though. I mean, somehow in this accident Frank came out ok, but my guts were out of my body and on the ground. I am slowly shoving them back in where they belong. I have not been sleeping well. I keep getting up to check on him and make sure that he is breathing. His heavy, codeine-assisted deep sleep breathing is unmistakable. I feel relief and go lay down until I awake suddenly again and have to check on him.

My guts are still on the ground. Eventually I will shove them back in. Until it happens again.