Inconsistency and/or illogical thinking drives me bonkers

When I think back on why I completely lost my shit and ended up on the news in 2019 after the homecoming dress code debacle at N's school, a large part of it was because of the utter lack of consistency of the school. 

The year before the school didn't enforce its own dress code. If the school administrators aren't going to be consistent, you cannot expect the students and parents to be. Why would they think that suddenly in 2019 the dress code is REAL and ENFORCEABLE when all other previous years it was not.

While I definitely think women's bodies should be not policed, that fact was almost secondary to my main issue which was the utter inconsistency (and the administration calling the cops on their own students for whom they are supposed to be responsible). 

I've had two recent consumer events that have been inconsistent and forced me to write emails with CAPITAL LETTERS.

The first was with Shutterfly.

D has an account on which I log onto and order our pictures. I had gotten some printed at Walgreens and they were blurry. So I contacted Shutterfly customer service via chat (while logged on) to see if there was a remedy. 

The person was very helpful until she requested the name and email of the account. When I said it is my husband's account but the VISA is mine, she said he had to go on the chat or call in to verify. 

At this point, it occurred to me although definitely not this person that I, me, the person currently logged into my husband's account, could type in the chat or even in a new chat: This is DL. Yes, you are talking to my wife. Please give us a credit.

It also occurred to me that Shutterfly has, perhaps, excessive security requirements. I mean, I've had to have my husband verify me on health insurance and his investments, but Shutterfly? 

So my husband had to call in and talk to a different customer service rep who had NO FUCKING CLUE what he was talking about. 

It was an utter joke. 

The second inconsistent/illogical consumer situation is with Ibotta, the online coupon place. 

Now, I have been ordering my stuff online at Kroger and Target and everywhere since March 2020. 

I have been submitting online receipts to Ibotta for the past 10 months.

But apparently, an online receipt from Total Wine is a problem. 

So getting this email forced me to write a customer service letter IN CAPITAL LETTERS in which I said something on the order of

1. Hello motherfuckers. There is a global pandemic and tons of people are ordering online and doing curbside pickup. This is a really stupid time to be sticklers about in-store receipts given fucking current events. 

and

2. You took all my online receipts for the past 10 months and now SUDDENLY you have a problem.

I am not anti-rule.

I am anti stupid rules that companies and schools and governments and organizations don't even follow themselves.

My 13-year-old, after the school dress code incident, told me "You're a Karen, but a good one."

I can be a Karen but I generally won't be one over simple human error. I tip well for pickup orders and generally try to offer grace to others. 

But over things that are probably written in the "rules" in some binder and don't make a lick of sense, those I will go all Kareny over. 

Blame it on James

On Saturday, I ordered a dozen cookies from a local bakery.  The cookies were to be of the sugar variety with red icing and black #9s on them (for the 9th birthday boy).

When I went to pick them up yesterday, I was told there was no order for me.
I asked, "Um, is there a James who works here?  Because James took my order."

The gentleman who was helping me scurried around a bit in the back, and then walked toward me and asked, "Was the order for 12 dozen cookies with red icing and black 9s?"

I said it was for a dozen (and we all know 12 is a dozen), but, yes with red and black and 9s.

This man, named Walt, then showed me the order form, which wasn't an order form at all.  James had written my order incorrectly on the back of a receipt.  He had failed to put my name or phone number on it.  No one paid any attention to it on the desk because it wasn't an order form.

I asked, "Can you please thunk James on the head for me?"

The gentleman called two other bakeries in the franchise to see if they could make my cookies by late afternoon.  Fortunately, one of them was able to make my order.

I told this story to D and the kids last night and said if the cookies tasted bad to "blame it on James."

N farted at the table and said, "Blame it on James."

From here on it, if it sucks or doesn't go the way we like, it is all James' fault.

When life is chaotic, just go ahead and tear apart your master bathroom

I have friends who have put their homes up for sale, to which I say, "Good luck, and ARE YOU INSANE?"

Because my house, although neat and generally kept up, is not "Open House Ready."  It will not be until the last of my children has left it for good.

D and I sold our first home after living in it 4 years.  The stress of getting it repaired and ready, finding another house we liked, and packing/moving/unpacking was overwhelming, and we did that without three kids to keep everything consistently disorganized, disheveled and dirty.

So we decided that we are here for good, where we've been for 15 years.  The goal is to be mortgage-free by the time N starts college.

As much trouble as I think moving would be, I failed to realize the pain-in-the-buttness of renovating.

Here is my master bathroom at the moment:

Actually, it looks worse than this because they are reworking the plumbing so like half the floor is missing.

We're not in the middle ages over here, but we are having to be more strategic and thoughtful about bathrooming.  I have to remember to take clothes with me to the downstairs bathroom to shower.....and a clean towel.  I have to remember that my toothbrush items are in the powder room.  I have to dig into laundry baskets to find my eyeglass cleaner and my hairbrush and my deodorant.

As much as I'm glad to have that stupid Las Vegas-style tub out of here, I miss my bathroom.  I miss it the way I miss electricity when the power goes out, and I keep turning on light switches because it is just such a habit.

A part of me wonders I opted to do this now.....when I'm teaching on Fridays at the cottage school and in the process of writing two articles and starting to sub 5 days a month and still managing the lives of the children in this house?  Why?

But, really.....there is never a good time, so you just do it and know that it will get better.  And if not better, you will, at least, eventually remember to take underpants to the basement bathroom.

The kind of enthusiasm that could get someone killed in car rider line

I am not a horrible grouch in the morning as long as I've had a cup of coffee and 6 hours of sleep.  I don't yell at people for making noise (unless it is the boys' bone-shattering decibels at 7 am).

On mornings when I have to have a blood draw and must be fasting, I definitely scowl, but I'm not out-and-out hostile.  Of course, the scowl generally keeps people from talking to me and, therefore, avoids any potential hostility.

This week I am driving N and our neighbor to school in the morning.  We are out the door at 7 am.  I have had some coffee but am still in my pajamas with bed hair.

Today, I witnessed something I've never seen, didn't understand and hope to never see again.

A fully dressed dad in the car in front of mine, got out of the vehicle, jaunted to the car in front of him and gave multiple double-high-fives to the people inside.  With a smile on his face, he skip-de-doodled back to his vehicle.

It took every ounce of my energy not to jump out of my own car and thrash him to death.

He would have deserved it for a number of reasons:

1. The first rule of car rider drop-off and pick-up is "Unless your child is bringing a tuba and/or elephant to school and requires your assistance removing it from or putting it into the trunk, keep your ASS in the car."  This man violated the first rule in order to give someone a high five.  UNACCEPTABLE.

2. I don't go places where high-fives are a "thing," Other than my children, I don't think I've high-fived anyone since I reached adulthood.  No one in my bookclub high-fives each other.  But I can say, with certainty, that there is no place for high-fives in a middle school morning drop-off.  My inner middle schooler was like, "What a f***ing dork!"

3. Even if I could go along with high-fives being an acceptable part of car rider line, it would have to be reserved for AFTERNOON pick-up.  School's out!  Yeah!....said by students, teachers and administrators alike.  Even though I've got a full day ahead without my children in my hair, I can't generate any enthusiasm when I've only been awake an hour.  Even another cup of coffee is not going to result in high-fives and skip-to-my-louing.

I've seen quite a few things that I wish I could un-see, but this one takes the cake.  

The "fun" idea that turned into a chore

I could be talking about parenting....seems like "fun" when you're in the thinking stages and early implementation but very quickly becomes a tiring, overwhelming, expensive confusing chore.

But I'm not referring to parenting.

I'm talking about a Pinterest-inspired saga.

On the occasions when I do visit Pinterest and see cool, creative upcycling projects, I think, "I can do that."  And I can.

But it is, in fact, a grand comedy of errors.  When you read blogs by Pinteresty-people-types, they sound as if it all goes supremely well or there is maybe a slight delay because of humidity.  They are either not idiotic (as I am), or they are idiotic and LIE about it.

So, here is my final product, which took the entire summer:

Three windows, for $10 each.  Three containers of flat glass from my best friend that were leftover from years ago when she took a stained glass class.  All of my glass beads that had been cluttering up my house for endless years plus at least 7 packages of new glass beads.  More clear E6000 glue than I care to think about.  One container of white grout that cost about $11.  One container of very old caulk.  One can of white exterior paint (maybe $17).  3 feet of chain.  6 regular hooks, 6 eye hooks, a couple of weird adapter type chain thingies.  

This upcycling project probably cost me at least $75 and took 11 years off my life.  

I did the middle one first using glass beads.  I grouted it, but some of the bead color came off since I had to rub and rub and rub the beads to get the grout off.  

On window #2, the one on the right, I used only flat glass from my friend.  I put some of the glass in a ziplock bag and whacked it with a hammer.  This worked fine until I ran my hand over the window and sliced a finger in numerous spots.  I really didn't want to buy grout since it is expensive, so I thought, "Hey, I'll use caulk.  It dries and then I can peel it off using an exacto-knife from the places where I don't want it.  

Apparently, the caulk I used is really, really old because it has been weeks, and that sh*t still isn't fully dry.  I gave up and hung the darn thing.  

By the time I finished window #2, I was over it.  So window #3 (on the left) is the I don't care anymore project.  I used every piece of glass that was leftover on it.  I didn't have a game-plan or design.  I just glued junk down.  Didn't grout it or caulk it.  Jimmy crack corn, and I don't care.

I'd like to think this has been a good lesson learned, but I am already thinking about repainting the powder room.  Someone save me from myself.  

Wrestling with lack of sympathy

Our neighborhood is very quiet, so the police cars, ambulance and blocking off of the south entrance with police tape this past week was cause for much discussion.

During the night, a guy and gal in their early twenties were apparently riding a motorcycle/motorbike down the parkway that parallels our neighborhood, doing excessive speed (I've heard suggestions of 120 mph).  The driver lost control of the bike, his passenger hit the sound barrier and died instantly (we are told).  He continued on the bike, knocked over a small evergreen tree as he drove behind the sound barrier, was thrown or fell off the bike (which then continued on until it, too, fell over).

The neighbor noticed the bodies early the next morning.  No helmets.

The site of the accident, specifically the sound barrier and the destroyed evergreen, have become the homes of makeshift memorials.  Cemetery flowers, small balloons, homemade crosses.

People have been visiting the site, parking along the entrance of the neighborhood.

This morning the friends and family of the victims will be participating in a funeral ride of ATVs, motorbikes, motorcycles on the way to the funeral home, which will include passing by and stopping at the accident site.

And I know this is wrong, I know my feelings are not charitable or sympathetic or kind, but the whole thing really aggravates me.

First, the shallow thing.

I hate, hate makeshift memorials that I see lining highways and expressways.  Aside from looking tacky, they are a distraction to drivers, as if drivers need any more distractions besides their cell phones.

Second, the annoying thing.

In general, even in circumstances that are not this particular one, I'm not sure I understand the need to see the accident site of fatalities.  When family dies in the hospital, it is not customary to visit the hospital room in which the person died.  We have funeral homes and cemeteries for this purpose, to pay respect to the dead and to support the family.  I suspect it is the shock of the event that causes people to feel the need to see "where it happened."  Having never experienced this, I have a hard time understanding this need.

The annoying thing, for me anyway, is that the site of this accident is not a highway or expressway.  It is a neighborhood.  People parking right at the entrance and wandering around is both distracting and dangerous to the drivers who are pulling into the neighborhood.  As much as I hate that I feel annoyed by these folks, who are doing what they feel they need to do to assuage their grief, I feel annoyed nonetheless.

Third, the "this just makes me an asshole" thing.

If there is anyone for whom I feel great sympathy, it is the child of the motorbike driver, whom I believe is 4 years old.  Not only do I feel sympathy for her because she lost her dad, I feel sympathy for her because I wonder how secure her life has been up to this point.  Her dad was 18 when she was born, and I don't think anyone is ready for the responsibility of parenthood when still a teenager.  I'm 40, and I have many times when I think I am not ready for this responsibility.
It makes me angry that this guy did have a daughter and yet was running around on a Monday night in the wee hours with his girlfriend, driving without a helmet on a motorbike, using excessive speed.  I can't muster a whole lot of sympathy for the victims.  It was an accident waiting to happen.

And I feel guilty for thinking all this stuff.

The good, the stupid, the things worth remembering

I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, and I will always be glad that I have been there for every "big" thing in all 3 of my kids' young lives.  Being a control-freak who doubts that anyone could do even 1/10th as good of job raising my kids as I have (warts & all) I am very thankful that I have been able to do it for.......gasp.....a decade.

Dang.

I know that moms who work outside the home have a different kind of hard from me, but one of the biggest things that I think many stay-at-home moms miss from working outside the home is the professional respect they get for a job well done, which comes in the form of a paycheck or a bonus or a "You did great on that project!"

I know my children love me, but they can be complete dickheads towards me, which might be tolerable if I got a paycheck or professional credits or something that would balance out the "I feel like shit about myself" scale.

THE GOOD
Which was part of the reason I am part-time teaching.  My students don't demand things of me.  They bring me Valentines and write me notes or send emails that say things like....
 I am amazed at how by taking your English class, how I have had more of a desire to start working on my novel(s) again. And by looking at books and talking about them and connections and all that wonderfulness, I've begun to notice it in my own work, and made more of an effort to create connections, even if i never expose it or give it more than a single mention. Your class has made writing more fun and exciting! thanks!

And I get emails from parents that say things like....
Thanks for all you do.  B is really enjoying this new book.  He doesn't want to put the book down, which is a huge joy for me to see.

This is also part of the reason I do the Girl Scout troop and the GEMS Club.  Ninety percent of it is for N, but that last 10% is because I get emails from teachers to tell me that a kid who attended the club said this in class:
"I have prior knowledge of this from GEMS club!" :)

And I had to wipe none of these kids' butts or get them a snack or listen to why I am such a jerk because I won't let them do whatever it is they want to do.

THE STUPID
I blame most of my recent bouts of stupidity on these damned snow days, which have completely smashed any semblance of normalcy in my weeks.  When you are out of a routine, you tend to forget or overlook things.  In my case, the thing I overlooked was pretty darn important.

M's preschool Valentine Party was last Tuesday.  I coordinated the party and had emailed the other parents to remind them of what they said they would do or bring.  When I arrived at the party, I realized I had forgotten M's Valentines at home so I ran back to get them.

Later, after the party had started, I didn't see the food and I couldn't remember who was supposed to bring it.  I asked one of the moms if she remembered or if she knew where whomever was supposed to have brought it put it.  She checked her phone, laughed and then pointed at me.

ME!  I WAS THE IDIOT WHO FORGOT THE FOOD!

I know some people might say this is a classic case of "doing too much," but I really do think it is that I had all 3 kids at home the day before the party.  When I would have normally cleaned up my desk, gone over all my "to dos" for the week and run to the store, I was instead trying to wrap my head around yet another snow day and all the noise and chaos that would instead be my Monday.

THE THINGS WORTH REMEMBERING

In the car the other day, G said, "Mommy, look at the snow sparkling!"  In all my years, I have never noticed snow sparkling in the sunshine.  It made me happy to see this, but more importantly it made me happy that my G helped me notice it.  It reminded me of all his good qualities, which have been sometimes difficult to see in the past few months.  

A sneaking suspicion I might be an idiot (The Story of the Ring)

I like to think I'm a pretty bright person, but lately I have been having "out of body" experiences during which I put myself in the shoes of someone who could be/might be watching me.  Unfortunately, it has dawned on me that I might come across as a complete moron.

There was that one afternoon when I decided to take apart and recycle the broken kid-size basketball goal, my $4 Goodwill bargain I purchased when N was a toddler.  The bottom stand was weighted down with wet sand so I poured out what I could and then proceeded to use a hack-saw to cut the remainder apart.  G and M were outside with me, having more fun playing in the wet sand than they had ever had playing with the basketball goal.  I was slaving away with the hack-saw and continuously searching for tools to help make this process slightly easier.  To no avail.

It occurred to me that my dear neighbors, H and T, might be watching and adding this as another "Carrie is a dumbass" example to their list.  Just a week or so prior, they'd watched me attempt to light old charcoal 4,000 times before asking me if I needed some lighter fluid.  (Having no lighter fluid of my own, by the 2,000th failed lighting attempt I had started to run through the possibly flammable liquids in the house I might safely use to set these b*tches on fire.)

My complete dumb-ass move of this past week occurred on Thursday when I met a friend at the park whom I hadn't seen in years.  I removed my rings to put sunscreen on the kids and put them in my pocket.  Perhaps in my delight at seeing and catching up with my friend, I completely forgot about the rings until we were on our way to get ice cream after spending a few hours watching the kids enjoy the playground and splash pool.

I had my engagement ring and wedding band in my pocket, but not my mothers ring (my beautiful ring that has all our birthstones in it which D bought for me after M was born).

Panic set in as we drove back to the park and began searching.

N and I searched the picnic area, the spray area, the bench where my friend and I had sat, and the monkey bar area where I had been lifting the boys to help them.  We searched the path we walked to get to the park from the parking lot.  We searched the parking lot.  My friend gave my number to a group of about 30 kids and their chaperones from the YMCA and asked them for their assistance in finding the ring.  No ring.  It was gone, and my stomach was in knots.

I called D.  I called my mom and dad.  I called insurance to file a claim.  I posted something on Facebook along the lines of "My day is f*cked.  My ring is lost."

Strangely enough, my neighbor (whose fish we've been feeding while he and his family have been on vacation) posted that I should borrow his metal detector to see if I could find the ring.  Prior to his post, when my dad suggested I use a metal detector, I thought, "Who in their right mind keeps a metal detector just laying around?"  But when my neighbor made his offer my thought was more along the lines of, "What a brilliant man to keep a metal detector just laying around!"  How circumstances can change a person's point of view....

The boys had refused to nap, so I hauled everyone into the car, picked up the metal detector and headed back to the park, pulling into the exact spot where we'd parked that morning.  N got out of the car.  I put M's shoes on and let him climb out of the car.  I put G's shoes on, and he climbed out of the car.  I followed behind, looked down at the pavement to step out and saw my mothers ring directly in front of me.

The metal detector remained sitting on the passenger side seat.
That thing worked so well I didn't even have to turn it on!

I hugged the kids!
I called D!
I felt my stomach immediately untwist itself!
I called insurance and canceled the claim!

I stopped mentally berating myself for being a complete idiot and started referring to myself as a thankful idiot.

And I swore that emissions and particulates in the lungs be damned, I'm using spray sunscreen from here on out.

Stupid is as stupid does

I generally think of myself as pretty darn intelligent, witty and well-read.

But some days, I am a bloody idiot.

Like this afternoon, when I took all 3 kids to the grocery in the rain at 5 o'clock the day before a snowstorm.