As I put KZ to bed tonight, she asked me, "Mommy, will Santa Claus be coming tonight?"
Her face was glowing as she asked me. I wasn't sure what to say. How does one tell the truth to a three year old, and what exactly IS the truth when it comes to Santa Claus and a three year old?
When I was a child, I remember very clearly when I discovered there wasn't a Santa Claus. My first clue was that when Santa was at our house, he had Coke, not milk, and cookies. My mom was, and still is, a Coke-a-holic. Second clue, well, I just saw my parents putting the gifts under the tree. What I really remember was a sense of shame that my parents thought it was ok to lie to me. It hurt that they thought I was dumb. I don't want KZ to feel that I lie to her. She is not dumb. We do not lie.
My answer to her this night,
"KZ, I don't know if Santa will come tonight, but I do know that there will be presents in the morning. Mommy, Daddy, Grandma, Papa, and many of our friends love you very much. They all have sent presents, and you'll have them in the morning."
She seemed ok with it, but the glow was gone. I'm not sure what is worse, lying to my child or taking away her glow.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
Saturday 24 December 2011
Friday 23 December 2011
The Sydney Harbour Bridge Climb, Done!
The first thing we did on Sunday morning, after arriving at our hotel in The Rocks area of Sydney, was go for walk. The sun was bright, that brightness that only comes in summertime, which it was. Summertime in December, I could get use to this. I was feeling fairly good considering that we had just completed a twenty-five hour flight, not counting the two and a half hour layover in Dubai. Everything we saw and would be seeing, was new to us. I was taking it all in like a three year old in a pram.
After walking approximately three minutes, we saw a building with the words "Bridge Climb Sydney" on the window. Oh no, here we are, front and center. My nemesis. My nightmare. My fears. I need to overcome here and now. Jeremy knows I'm terrified but he also knows that it is something that I want, maybe need, to overcome. Without even discussing it, we walk in, and get in line. Around the waiting area, they have pictures of all the famous people who have climbed the Bridge, from Prince Harry to the cast of Glee. I saw Steve Irwin, "The Crocodile Hunter". He is so cute, smiling happily for the camera. I get kind of sad looking at him, but know he didn't die on the Bridge. I then see Oprah. Ok, I love Oprah. If Oprah can do it, I can do it. Does that mean I can be a self made billionaire? Well, maybe, but we can work on that later. First, let's conquer the Bridge.
"I don't want to climb right now. I feel good, but I'm just not sure how the jet lag will hit me. I'd rather wait a day or two," I said.
"I wasn't thinking about doing it now either, I just want to make a reservation," Jeremy said.
The sales clerk was very nice as she gave us the rules. They are very strict on their safety issues. The stricter the better in my book. We are not to have anything alcoholic to drink the day of the climb. We'll be give a breathalyzer test just to make sure we are legally sober.
"Are you pregnant?" she asks.
"No," I said.
I had actually heard her ask the 70-ish year old looking woman who was in line before us. I wasn't offended knowing it must be a standard question. The only thing that I'm more afraid of than heights and wind is my weight going up. But she doesn't know that.
We would need to go through a training exercise, and sign release forms before we were able to begin our climb. All of that would take approximately an hour and a half. Once we passed our exams, we would be ready to go. We would be on the Bridge for approximately two hours.
I secretly hoped I would fail the tests.
"When would you like to climb?" she asks.
"Twilight, on Thursday," Jeremy said.
Thursday? Like in four days? I have to think about this for four days? Why can't we just do it and get it over with?
"What! Thursday ... Twilight? I mean, that is when it will be dark," I said.
"Sure, it will be cool," said Jeremy.
"Um, ok. Do you climb the Bridge when it is raining or windy?" I asked.
"We climb in all weather, except lightening storms. The price is $268, non-refundable," she said.
"Um, ok." I handed over my credit card then started praying for a lightening storm.
You can't really go anywhere along the Sydney Harbour and not see the Harbour Bridge. It is there, just like the Opera House, calling to me. Except the Opera House calls in beautiful musical melodies. The Bridge sounds more like a death knell. I've had a paralyzing fear of heights and wind since I was a child. I had hoped that climbing the Bridge would help me get over it. So far, all it's done is darkened my sunny summer days down under.
On Thursday, at lunch, I had a pint. I know, I know, I was not suppose to drink, but I was at the oldest pub in Sydney, The Lord Nelson, which makes it the oldest pub in all of Australia, and I wanted a pint. I ordered a Nelson's Blood, the darkest beer they brew. It was great, but the pub was more of tourist stop than a place for locals. I headed out, back towards my hotel, hoping that my one pint didn't just ruin my Bridge climb. Ok, did I hope it would or wouldn't? But for $268, I didn't want to lose the money. My frugal side was overtaking my fears. Once back at the hotel, I tried to take a nap for the first time all week. I wanted to be rested for the climb, but all I could do was toss and turn. Now, I just wanted to do this thing.
We got to the office early, and watched the safety video as we waited. Exactly on time, a perky Sheila eyes us up for our jumpsuits. (Jumpsuits, did she say JUMP? Why can't they call it "feet firmly planted on the Bridge" suit?) We sign our forms, get our breathalyzer test, which I passed without incident, and are given our suits. We lock up all our loose possessions, such as watches, earrings, hair clips (including bobby pins) then walk through a metal detector. They really do take their safely seriously. We are now met by a 20-something man, at least I hope that he is at least 20. He's going to be our guide up the Bridge, but first, we have to walk on the catwalks and climb the ladders.
"Once we are out on the Bridge there will be eight ladders we have to climb. It's better to get a feel for them here first. The big rule, only one person on each ladder at a time," he said.
I go up the ladders, across the catwalk and down the other ladder with no issues. Easy. This is going to be easy, right!
"Ok, is everybody ready? Now, who is afraid?"
There are only eight of us on this tour.
"Oh, I've done this twice before," one tiny local says.
"No worries, we are excited," a family from Texas announces.
"Um, I am," I said.
"Ok, well, you will stay up front with me," the guide says.
"Once we are on the Bridge, you cannot change your order. Each person will be tethered to the Bridge and you cannot become un-tethered until we re-enter the building. Make sure you are in the order you want your pictures taken."
"Everyone ready?"
I walk out out of the office, directly onto the Bridge. I really didn't have a clue that the office was attached directly to the Bridge. I'm fine, then we start walking. There were plenty of party goers down below who were cheering us on and waving. Wow, that does seem like a far way down, so I just looked straight ahead.
Once we are out on the real catwalk, the guide decides that this is a good time to stop and talk about the structure of the Bridge. "blah, blah, blah," is all I hear. I held on to the small side rails as tightly as I could, which seemed to get smaller as I stood there. I stared at the I-beam slightly above my eye level. As he blah, blah, blahed on, I decided to look down. All that was between me and the rushing harbour down below was a very thin, metal, lattice catwalk. My stomach was swirling faster than the harbor waters.
"And now let's walk"
Thank God.
I'm ok as we are moving. I don't look to the sides, I don't look down. I just move forward.
"Ok, here are the ladders. Remember, only one person at a time. I'm going to go first, and you follow," and then he scampered out of sight.
I'm next.
Two other employees of the Harbor Bridge Climb company were there to make sure we didn't feel alone, which is how I felt, even with them and Jeremy besides me.
I started to climb.
Now let's just say that the practice area is nothing like reality. As we climb up the skinny, metal ladders, there is nothing in front of us, on the sides, or to the back. It is a skinny metal ladder suspended in the air ... all by itself. Then comes the flying cars. They have to be flying because we are up in the air, all by ourselves. How can there be cars whizzing by me on both sides. The ladder goes up through two lanes of car traffic. I know I'm tethered, but it was all I could do to keep moving and focus on something in front of me, but there is nothing in front of me. Our guide said there were eight ladders. I was just finishing up ladder four and didn't know if I would be able to physically continue, when I heard him say, "Congratulations! You made it!"
"But I thought there were eight ladders."
"There are, four up and four down."
I take a deep breath realizing I'm done, but an even deeper breath when I realize that I'm now standing on the outside arc of the Bridge staring up the arc. There is nothing in front of me. I am posed to climb to the top. I stand and wait ... and watch the traffic rush beneath me. I wait ... and feel the harbor swirl below. I wait ... and watch the sun set over Sydney. I wait. It takes time for eight people to climb up four skinny, metal ladders. The guide now comes back to lead the group. He can un-tethered from the Bridge. It makes me nervous to see how he does this with such ease, but I trust him. He's a natural up here, unlike me. We start walking and get halfway up the Bridge, but must stop again. The tour group in front of us were at the top taking pictures. The guide started telling more stories. This time I hear words, and not just blah, blahs. The view is beautiful, and the stories of the men who built this Bridge are harrowing.
It's time to move forward. We climb the easy steps to the top. Now it's time for the money shot. The picture we all came up her for ... us with the Opera House in the background. We pair off for the photos. Yes, I've made it halfway, so I think.
"Ok, now that your done, go stand in the middle of the Bridge and wait for the rest of us," the guide said.
"Wait, we walk across the Bridge? Don't we just take the pictures, watch the sunset, then all go back down the same way we came up?"
"No. We go down the opposite side."
I slowly turn and walk along the catwalk, another thin, metal, lattice catwalk, across the transverse of the Bridge. The traffic, trains, and harbor all rush below us. The flags of Australia and New South Wales whip above our heads. The winds up here are strong, and we can see the rain coming over the horizon, but the sun is still setting in a brilliant show. I cannot stop in the middle. I feel wobbly, my knees are more than weak, my stomach is in my throat, and my eyes cannot see straight. I don't even have a focal point up here.
"You are suppose to stop, Tam, stop," Jeremy shouted over the winds.
"I can't! I'm going to faint. Stay there, but I have to move on."
He followed me. When we got to the other side, I was able to sit on a stair and regain my sense of balance.
"You can go back. If that is cool with you. I just can't do it."
"No, I'll stay with you."
The next couple followed us, then the next, and the last. We took a second set of pictures on this side with a twinkling lights of Sydney in the background.
"Isn't this the most beautiful sight you ever seen," the guide asks.
"Yes, yes it is."
I could have talked about how it isn't New York, but I've honestly never climbed the Brooklyn or George Washington Bridges, and never will. Yes, this is beautiful. I'm at the top. The wind did not blow me over, yet. The Bridge as not collapsed, yet. I've conquered my fears to some degree. I was here, and still had to get down, but I had made it.
After walking approximately three minutes, we saw a building with the words "Bridge Climb Sydney" on the window. Oh no, here we are, front and center. My nemesis. My nightmare. My fears. I need to overcome here and now. Jeremy knows I'm terrified but he also knows that it is something that I want, maybe need, to overcome. Without even discussing it, we walk in, and get in line. Around the waiting area, they have pictures of all the famous people who have climbed the Bridge, from Prince Harry to the cast of Glee. I saw Steve Irwin, "The Crocodile Hunter". He is so cute, smiling happily for the camera. I get kind of sad looking at him, but know he didn't die on the Bridge. I then see Oprah. Ok, I love Oprah. If Oprah can do it, I can do it. Does that mean I can be a self made billionaire? Well, maybe, but we can work on that later. First, let's conquer the Bridge.
"I don't want to climb right now. I feel good, but I'm just not sure how the jet lag will hit me. I'd rather wait a day or two," I said.
"I wasn't thinking about doing it now either, I just want to make a reservation," Jeremy said.
The sales clerk was very nice as she gave us the rules. They are very strict on their safety issues. The stricter the better in my book. We are not to have anything alcoholic to drink the day of the climb. We'll be give a breathalyzer test just to make sure we are legally sober.
"Are you pregnant?" she asks.
"No," I said.
I had actually heard her ask the 70-ish year old looking woman who was in line before us. I wasn't offended knowing it must be a standard question. The only thing that I'm more afraid of than heights and wind is my weight going up. But she doesn't know that.
We would need to go through a training exercise, and sign release forms before we were able to begin our climb. All of that would take approximately an hour and a half. Once we passed our exams, we would be ready to go. We would be on the Bridge for approximately two hours.
I secretly hoped I would fail the tests.
"When would you like to climb?" she asks.
"Twilight, on Thursday," Jeremy said.
Thursday? Like in four days? I have to think about this for four days? Why can't we just do it and get it over with?
"What! Thursday ... Twilight? I mean, that is when it will be dark," I said.
"Sure, it will be cool," said Jeremy.
"Um, ok. Do you climb the Bridge when it is raining or windy?" I asked.
"We climb in all weather, except lightening storms. The price is $268, non-refundable," she said.
"Um, ok." I handed over my credit card then started praying for a lightening storm.
You can't really go anywhere along the Sydney Harbour and not see the Harbour Bridge. It is there, just like the Opera House, calling to me. Except the Opera House calls in beautiful musical melodies. The Bridge sounds more like a death knell. I've had a paralyzing fear of heights and wind since I was a child. I had hoped that climbing the Bridge would help me get over it. So far, all it's done is darkened my sunny summer days down under.
On Thursday, at lunch, I had a pint. I know, I know, I was not suppose to drink, but I was at the oldest pub in Sydney, The Lord Nelson, which makes it the oldest pub in all of Australia, and I wanted a pint. I ordered a Nelson's Blood, the darkest beer they brew. It was great, but the pub was more of tourist stop than a place for locals. I headed out, back towards my hotel, hoping that my one pint didn't just ruin my Bridge climb. Ok, did I hope it would or wouldn't? But for $268, I didn't want to lose the money. My frugal side was overtaking my fears. Once back at the hotel, I tried to take a nap for the first time all week. I wanted to be rested for the climb, but all I could do was toss and turn. Now, I just wanted to do this thing.
We got to the office early, and watched the safety video as we waited. Exactly on time, a perky Sheila eyes us up for our jumpsuits. (Jumpsuits, did she say JUMP? Why can't they call it "feet firmly planted on the Bridge" suit?) We sign our forms, get our breathalyzer test, which I passed without incident, and are given our suits. We lock up all our loose possessions, such as watches, earrings, hair clips (including bobby pins) then walk through a metal detector. They really do take their safely seriously. We are now met by a 20-something man, at least I hope that he is at least 20. He's going to be our guide up the Bridge, but first, we have to walk on the catwalks and climb the ladders.
"Once we are out on the Bridge there will be eight ladders we have to climb. It's better to get a feel for them here first. The big rule, only one person on each ladder at a time," he said.
I go up the ladders, across the catwalk and down the other ladder with no issues. Easy. This is going to be easy, right!
"Ok, is everybody ready? Now, who is afraid?"
There are only eight of us on this tour.
"Oh, I've done this twice before," one tiny local says.
"No worries, we are excited," a family from Texas announces.
"Um, I am," I said.
"Ok, well, you will stay up front with me," the guide says.
"Once we are on the Bridge, you cannot change your order. Each person will be tethered to the Bridge and you cannot become un-tethered until we re-enter the building. Make sure you are in the order you want your pictures taken."
"Everyone ready?"
I walk out out of the office, directly onto the Bridge. I really didn't have a clue that the office was attached directly to the Bridge. I'm fine, then we start walking. There were plenty of party goers down below who were cheering us on and waving. Wow, that does seem like a far way down, so I just looked straight ahead.
Once we are out on the real catwalk, the guide decides that this is a good time to stop and talk about the structure of the Bridge. "blah, blah, blah," is all I hear. I held on to the small side rails as tightly as I could, which seemed to get smaller as I stood there. I stared at the I-beam slightly above my eye level. As he blah, blah, blahed on, I decided to look down. All that was between me and the rushing harbour down below was a very thin, metal, lattice catwalk. My stomach was swirling faster than the harbor waters.
"And now let's walk"
Thank God.
I'm ok as we are moving. I don't look to the sides, I don't look down. I just move forward.
"Ok, here are the ladders. Remember, only one person at a time. I'm going to go first, and you follow," and then he scampered out of sight.
I'm next.
Two other employees of the Harbor Bridge Climb company were there to make sure we didn't feel alone, which is how I felt, even with them and Jeremy besides me.
I started to climb.
Now let's just say that the practice area is nothing like reality. As we climb up the skinny, metal ladders, there is nothing in front of us, on the sides, or to the back. It is a skinny metal ladder suspended in the air ... all by itself. Then comes the flying cars. They have to be flying because we are up in the air, all by ourselves. How can there be cars whizzing by me on both sides. The ladder goes up through two lanes of car traffic. I know I'm tethered, but it was all I could do to keep moving and focus on something in front of me, but there is nothing in front of me. Our guide said there were eight ladders. I was just finishing up ladder four and didn't know if I would be able to physically continue, when I heard him say, "Congratulations! You made it!"
"But I thought there were eight ladders."
"There are, four up and four down."
I take a deep breath realizing I'm done, but an even deeper breath when I realize that I'm now standing on the outside arc of the Bridge staring up the arc. There is nothing in front of me. I am posed to climb to the top. I stand and wait ... and watch the traffic rush beneath me. I wait ... and feel the harbor swirl below. I wait ... and watch the sun set over Sydney. I wait. It takes time for eight people to climb up four skinny, metal ladders. The guide now comes back to lead the group. He can un-tethered from the Bridge. It makes me nervous to see how he does this with such ease, but I trust him. He's a natural up here, unlike me. We start walking and get halfway up the Bridge, but must stop again. The tour group in front of us were at the top taking pictures. The guide started telling more stories. This time I hear words, and not just blah, blahs. The view is beautiful, and the stories of the men who built this Bridge are harrowing.
It's time to move forward. We climb the easy steps to the top. Now it's time for the money shot. The picture we all came up her for ... us with the Opera House in the background. We pair off for the photos. Yes, I've made it halfway, so I think.
"Ok, now that your done, go stand in the middle of the Bridge and wait for the rest of us," the guide said.
"Wait, we walk across the Bridge? Don't we just take the pictures, watch the sunset, then all go back down the same way we came up?"
"No. We go down the opposite side."
I slowly turn and walk along the catwalk, another thin, metal, lattice catwalk, across the transverse of the Bridge. The traffic, trains, and harbor all rush below us. The flags of Australia and New South Wales whip above our heads. The winds up here are strong, and we can see the rain coming over the horizon, but the sun is still setting in a brilliant show. I cannot stop in the middle. I feel wobbly, my knees are more than weak, my stomach is in my throat, and my eyes cannot see straight. I don't even have a focal point up here.
"You are suppose to stop, Tam, stop," Jeremy shouted over the winds.
"I can't! I'm going to faint. Stay there, but I have to move on."
He followed me. When we got to the other side, I was able to sit on a stair and regain my sense of balance.
"You can go back. If that is cool with you. I just can't do it."
"No, I'll stay with you."
The next couple followed us, then the next, and the last. We took a second set of pictures on this side with a twinkling lights of Sydney in the background.
"Isn't this the most beautiful sight you ever seen," the guide asks.
"Yes, yes it is."
I could have talked about how it isn't New York, but I've honestly never climbed the Brooklyn or George Washington Bridges, and never will. Yes, this is beautiful. I'm at the top. The wind did not blow me over, yet. The Bridge as not collapsed, yet. I've conquered my fears to some degree. I was here, and still had to get down, but I had made it.
Thursday 22 December 2011
Top 11 Events of 2011 According to the Hoover/Dobrick Family
First, I want to wish everyone a wonderful holiday season and a fabulous New Year. May health and happiness be yours. Our family, nuclear and extended, is doing great. There are no additions or subtractions, thankfully, that we need to report. Below I listed our top 11 Highlights of 2011 for your amusement. If you don't have time to read them, don't worry, just make this a fabulous day!
Peace and Love to all!
Tamara, Jeremy, KZ, Jake and Kadou
# 11 Travel
- KZ did her first overseas flight as a "big girl". We had taken her to London and back, of course, before, but this was the first time she was old enough to remember it. She was a remarkable little flyer, well behaved and followed instructions about turning off her iPad, unlike some TV actors we've heard of recently.
- Travel for me included my first time down under to Sydney, Australia. I want to write a lot more about Sydney, but I'll do that separately on my blog. Net/Net, it was SO worth the 33 hour flight back home to New York. I did not have one bad experience in Sydney, or even with the flight except that they were long. I did fly Emirates, which was the nicest coach section I've been on to date. I highly recommended them. I do want to go back, with KZ when she can remember it. I also want to see other parts of the country and stay longer than a week! It took about that long to recover from the flight.
#10 We bought a co-op on the Upper East Side
And moved Feb. 14. Honestly, we really loved our building, neighbors, and location in the Financial District/TriBeCa area. But, we were renting, the landlord was raising the rent by 25%, and we just couldn't find a place downtown. We ended up in a nice three-bedroom at 86th and York. The good things about this area that we do love ...
- Carl Schurz Park, not as big as Central Park but a great place for KZ to play, for me to walk the dogs, and for all of us to sit by the East River and enjoy the view of Queens, which really is nice -- no joke. :-)
- Central Park is less than a mile away. Need I say more?
- Multitude of vets, dog groomers, and shops for mom.
- Multiple great little diners/restaurants such as the Mansion and Ottomanelli's, which has been around since 1900.
- Glaser's Bake Shop, http://www.glasersbakeshop.com
#9 A Family Reunion in Arkansas
We had a wonderful family reunion in Bentonville, Arkansas the weekend of November 11, 2011. The occasion was my Uncle Maurice's 70th Birthday. It was a surprise party for him, given by my Aunt Pat and Cousin Theresa. They really pulled it off. My Uncle's two siblings were there (including my dad), and most of their kids, plus grand and great-grand children. It was fun for me to meet family members I had only heard about, but never actually met. KZ had a great time playing with Matthew, my Uncle's great-grandson, who was her own age. They ran all over my Uncle's farm. It was a lot of fun for all of us to watch. When we asked KZ what she thought of Arkansas she said, "I LOVE Arkansas!" I plan to take her back in the spring. Also, we visited the Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art, http://crystalbridges.org/, which opened that same weekend. This is a museum started by Alice Walton, which is her own personal collection. The building is a masterpiece as well as all the art within. Truly a treasure that is worth the trip to Bentonville, whether you know my Uncle or not.
#8 Writing
I have continued to take writing classes but just wish I had more time to actually sit down and write. I can write a book load of words, but making them all sound flawless is the challenge. I've learned that they don't need to be perfect, but they do need to be said. I'm hoping at the very least, that KZ will have these words to look back on when she is grown. I had three writing goals this year ... to enter a writing contest at Real Simple Magazine (results have not been announced), submit an essays for publication (which was rejected, but at least I submitted -- need to resubmit somewhere else), and start my blog. I would love to say that I blog everyday, but it really is only a few times a month. Again, I want to get the words out there, but I always seem to be busy with something that prevents me from truly sitting down and writing. I do love writing and am happy with my results so far. My goal for 2012, two solid days of writing a week! More if I can get it. :-)
#7 Torn Achilles and Malleolus Tendons
Now how can this be a good thing? Honestly, it was one of the worse non-life threatening experiences I've been through. The tendons had been giving me problems for years, but I really never found a good doctor to help me with them. So, I did what any runner would do, I kept running on them. Then on May 14, 2011 (a date I'll never forget), I was running a 10K in Central Park. It was a good day, I was fast, and a sub 50 minute race was in site. With about a half mile left, I felt it rip, but I kept running. I did have my sub 50 minutes in mind. I hobbled across the finish line in 51-ish minutes. What followed was months of painful therapy and even more painful -- not running. I do want to note that Dr. Wayne Winnick, http://www.drwaynewinnick.com/, was a miracle worker. I wouldn't be running pain free now without him. What really came to me during this downtime (and not quickly) was a sense of balance, then a shift in priorities. Before my injury, I would spend so much time running that when KZ asked me to go to the park, I was too tired. I would go but I would be grumpy. Gone are the days where I can go for a 20-mile run, come home, shower, eat, and sit on the sofa reading the paper and drinking coffee for the rest of the day. I have a little one who wants to be with me, who wants to do things with me, and, best of all, who still thinks hanging out with mommy is the coolest thing ever. I know these things will change eventually, but until they do, I'm going to cut back on my running. Half Marathons will be a lot less time consuming, and a lot less tiring. I can still be fit and hang out with the coolest kid I know. Marathons can wait, KZ's childhood cannot.
#6 KZ is a pre-schooler!
KZ started pre-school FIVE days a week, 9-5, at the House of Little People II, http://www.
#5 KZ -- Anything she does.
I'm fascinated by her development from an infant to a pre-schooler. Everyday there is something amazing that she says or does, like reading the Very Hungry Caterpillar to ME every night. I swear, and I mean this by how her pants are now way too short, that she grew two inches since November, 2011! She's been out of diapers at night starting in the summer. We switched her from a crib to a "big girl's" bed. At that time, and she took to getting up, using the potty, and going back to bed, like a duck takes to water. It was a wonderful day when I realized that we no longer needed to support the diaper industry ... ever! I'm always saddened when I see little kids who are just tossed aside. Yes, this is the hardest job I have ever done in my life. Yes, there are many days that I've taken migraine meds by 8:30 a.m. Yes, it never ends, and I would just like a few hours off every day to recharge. BUT, she is by far the coolest thing ever. I wouldn't change my life for the world.
#4 Earthquake and Hurricane
August 23, Earthquake. Ok, fine, the earthquake was nothing, and I didn't feel it. I was here, at the Plaza Hotel having High Tea with a friend, and the chandeliers didn't even sway. BUT, I did love watching the news coverage.
August 28, Hurricane Irene hits New York. This one scared me. Net/net, we were fine, but as we all know, many people were not. I would like to thank everybody who gave me tips on what to do. Jeremy survived Hurricane Andrew and took Irene very seriously. One of the best pieces of advice I received, make your coffee the night before so that if the power goes out, you at least have a cup cold of coffee.
#3 and Jeremy turns 40!
August 29, Jeremy turned 40! We had planned a very nice dinner at Del Posto, a Mario Batali restaurant in the Meat Packing District for twenty of Jeremy's family and friends, most from out of town. Well, due to Ms. Irene, only two couples made it in. One other person made it in, but was in Jersey so we never ended up seeing her. Comically, since there were so many cancellations throughout the city, we were able to take the two couples who made it to Per Se for a wonderful dinner overlooking the park in a private room spending the same amount budgeted for 20 people at Del Posto!
#2 Jeremy, the marathoner
Jeremy ran his first marathon at Disney, in January 2011. He ran his second in Philadelphia in November. He is not at Boston qualifying times yet, but he is completing them in good health. Two years ago he was clinically obese and exercised only by watching football. Now, he is at a healthy weight, lifting weights and/or running almost every day. He is in the best shape of his life and intends to keep it that way.
#1 Jeremy is cancer free!
Two years ago at Christmas, Jeremy was diagnosed with Lymphoma. Today, his chemo is over, his health is good, and the future is looking bright! We couldn't ask for a better gift ... at Christmas, or ever.
Peace and Love to all!
Tamara, Jeremy, KZ, Jake and Kadou
# 11 Travel
- KZ did her first overseas flight as a "big girl". We had taken her to London and back, of course, before, but this was the first time she was old enough to remember it. She was a remarkable little flyer, well behaved and followed instructions about turning off her iPad, unlike some TV actors we've heard of recently.
- Travel for me included my first time down under to Sydney, Australia. I want to write a lot more about Sydney, but I'll do that separately on my blog. Net/Net, it was SO worth the 33 hour flight back home to New York. I did not have one bad experience in Sydney, or even with the flight except that they were long. I did fly Emirates, which was the nicest coach section I've been on to date. I highly recommended them. I do want to go back, with KZ when she can remember it. I also want to see other parts of the country and stay longer than a week! It took about that long to recover from the flight.
#10 We bought a co-op on the Upper East Side
And moved Feb. 14. Honestly, we really loved our building, neighbors, and location in the Financial District/TriBeCa area. But, we were renting, the landlord was raising the rent by 25%, and we just couldn't find a place downtown. We ended up in a nice three-bedroom at 86th and York. The good things about this area that we do love ...
- Carl Schurz Park, not as big as Central Park but a great place for KZ to play, for me to walk the dogs, and for all of us to sit by the East River and enjoy the view of Queens, which really is nice -- no joke. :-)
- Central Park is less than a mile away. Need I say more?
- Multitude of vets, dog groomers, and shops for mom.
- Multiple great little diners/restaurants such as the Mansion and Ottomanelli's, which has been around since 1900.
- Glaser's Bake Shop, http://www.glasersbakeshop.com
#9 A Family Reunion in Arkansas
We had a wonderful family reunion in Bentonville, Arkansas the weekend of November 11, 2011. The occasion was my Uncle Maurice's 70th Birthday. It was a surprise party for him, given by my Aunt Pat and Cousin Theresa. They really pulled it off. My Uncle's two siblings were there (including my dad), and most of their kids, plus grand and great-grand children. It was fun for me to meet family members I had only heard about, but never actually met. KZ had a great time playing with Matthew, my Uncle's great-grandson, who was her own age. They ran all over my Uncle's farm. It was a lot of fun for all of us to watch. When we asked KZ what she thought of Arkansas she said, "I LOVE Arkansas!" I plan to take her back in the spring. Also, we visited the Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art, http://crystalbridges.org/, which opened that same weekend. This is a museum started by Alice Walton, which is her own personal collection. The building is a masterpiece as well as all the art within. Truly a treasure that is worth the trip to Bentonville, whether you know my Uncle or not.
#8 Writing
I have continued to take writing classes but just wish I had more time to actually sit down and write. I can write a book load of words, but making them all sound flawless is the challenge. I've learned that they don't need to be perfect, but they do need to be said. I'm hoping at the very least, that KZ will have these words to look back on when she is grown. I had three writing goals this year ... to enter a writing contest at Real Simple Magazine (results have not been announced), submit an essays for publication (which was rejected, but at least I submitted -- need to resubmit somewhere else), and start my blog. I would love to say that I blog everyday, but it really is only a few times a month. Again, I want to get the words out there, but I always seem to be busy with something that prevents me from truly sitting down and writing. I do love writing and am happy with my results so far. My goal for 2012, two solid days of writing a week! More if I can get it. :-)
#7 Torn Achilles and Malleolus Tendons
Now how can this be a good thing? Honestly, it was one of the worse non-life threatening experiences I've been through. The tendons had been giving me problems for years, but I really never found a good doctor to help me with them. So, I did what any runner would do, I kept running on them. Then on May 14, 2011 (a date I'll never forget), I was running a 10K in Central Park. It was a good day, I was fast, and a sub 50 minute race was in site. With about a half mile left, I felt it rip, but I kept running. I did have my sub 50 minutes in mind. I hobbled across the finish line in 51-ish minutes. What followed was months of painful therapy and even more painful -- not running. I do want to note that Dr. Wayne Winnick, http://www.drwaynewinnick.com/, was a miracle worker. I wouldn't be running pain free now without him. What really came to me during this downtime (and not quickly) was a sense of balance, then a shift in priorities. Before my injury, I would spend so much time running that when KZ asked me to go to the park, I was too tired. I would go but I would be grumpy. Gone are the days where I can go for a 20-mile run, come home, shower, eat, and sit on the sofa reading the paper and drinking coffee for the rest of the day. I have a little one who wants to be with me, who wants to do things with me, and, best of all, who still thinks hanging out with mommy is the coolest thing ever. I know these things will change eventually, but until they do, I'm going to cut back on my running. Half Marathons will be a lot less time consuming, and a lot less tiring. I can still be fit and hang out with the coolest kid I know. Marathons can wait, KZ's childhood cannot.
#6 KZ is a pre-schooler!
KZ started pre-school FIVE days a week, 9-5, at the House of Little People II, http://www.
#5 KZ -- Anything she does.
I'm fascinated by her development from an infant to a pre-schooler. Everyday there is something amazing that she says or does, like reading the Very Hungry Caterpillar to ME every night. I swear, and I mean this by how her pants are now way too short, that she grew two inches since November, 2011! She's been out of diapers at night starting in the summer. We switched her from a crib to a "big girl's" bed. At that time, and she took to getting up, using the potty, and going back to bed, like a duck takes to water. It was a wonderful day when I realized that we no longer needed to support the diaper industry ... ever! I'm always saddened when I see little kids who are just tossed aside. Yes, this is the hardest job I have ever done in my life. Yes, there are many days that I've taken migraine meds by 8:30 a.m. Yes, it never ends, and I would just like a few hours off every day to recharge. BUT, she is by far the coolest thing ever. I wouldn't change my life for the world.
#4 Earthquake and Hurricane
August 23, Earthquake. Ok, fine, the earthquake was nothing, and I didn't feel it. I was here, at the Plaza Hotel having High Tea with a friend, and the chandeliers didn't even sway. BUT, I did love watching the news coverage.
August 28, Hurricane Irene hits New York. This one scared me. Net/net, we were fine, but as we all know, many people were not. I would like to thank everybody who gave me tips on what to do. Jeremy survived Hurricane Andrew and took Irene very seriously. One of the best pieces of advice I received, make your coffee the night before so that if the power goes out, you at least have a cup cold of coffee.
#3 and Jeremy turns 40!
August 29, Jeremy turned 40! We had planned a very nice dinner at Del Posto, a Mario Batali restaurant in the Meat Packing District for twenty of Jeremy's family and friends, most from out of town. Well, due to Ms. Irene, only two couples made it in. One other person made it in, but was in Jersey so we never ended up seeing her. Comically, since there were so many cancellations throughout the city, we were able to take the two couples who made it to Per Se for a wonderful dinner overlooking the park in a private room spending the same amount budgeted for 20 people at Del Posto!
#2 Jeremy, the marathoner
Jeremy ran his first marathon at Disney, in January 2011. He ran his second in Philadelphia in November. He is not at Boston qualifying times yet, but he is completing them in good health. Two years ago he was clinically obese and exercised only by watching football. Now, he is at a healthy weight, lifting weights and/or running almost every day. He is in the best shape of his life and intends to keep it that way.
#1 Jeremy is cancer free!
Two years ago at Christmas, Jeremy was diagnosed with Lymphoma. Today, his chemo is over, his health is good, and the future is looking bright! We couldn't ask for a better gift ... at Christmas, or ever.
Wednesday 21 December 2011
My Freaky Neighbor Update
Remember my blog post about my freaky neighbor who likes to have sex in the window? Well long story short-ish, KZ asked me last night,
"What's he doing?"
I looked out the window and got sick. She clearly was pointing at him. It was only 6:00 pm. The fact that my 3.5 year-old daughter noticed really got me. I called 311. They told me that it was actually a 911 call. Oh, ok. They put me through to 911. The first 911 person said they were too busy to handle that. Then, the 311 person got in a fight with the 911 person about job descriptions and finally hung up. He then re-dialed and got a new 911 person who handled it immediately. Two officers came over about thirty minutes later (of course the "show" was over). They went to the apartment building then came back and reported what they found ... it was a 15 year-old boy. Ugh.
I'm not sure if I'm relieved because it isn't a grown man who should have known better or grossed out that I've seen kids having sex for the last three months. Icky. It's a nice building where he lives. Now the super is aware, the doorman, the kid's mom, and at least three neighbours know something is up because the cops checked several apartments. The cops don't think I'll have any more issues, but if I do, I'm to call them.
I'm so glad they took this seriously and that I (hopefully) won't have to explain this to KZ again -- at least until she is much older.
"What's he doing?"
I looked out the window and got sick. She clearly was pointing at him. It was only 6:00 pm. The fact that my 3.5 year-old daughter noticed really got me. I called 311. They told me that it was actually a 911 call. Oh, ok. They put me through to 911. The first 911 person said they were too busy to handle that. Then, the 311 person got in a fight with the 911 person about job descriptions and finally hung up. He then re-dialed and got a new 911 person who handled it immediately. Two officers came over about thirty minutes later (of course the "show" was over). They went to the apartment building then came back and reported what they found ... it was a 15 year-old boy. Ugh.
I'm not sure if I'm relieved because it isn't a grown man who should have known better or grossed out that I've seen kids having sex for the last three months. Icky. It's a nice building where he lives. Now the super is aware, the doorman, the kid's mom, and at least three neighbours know something is up because the cops checked several apartments. The cops don't think I'll have any more issues, but if I do, I'm to call them.
I'm so glad they took this seriously and that I (hopefully) won't have to explain this to KZ again -- at least until she is much older.
Tuesday 29 November 2011
Metamorphosis
"Dear Mr. & Mrs. Dobrick,"
Why can't anyone get my name right? I'm Ms. Hoover, not Mrs. Dobrick. That is Jeremy's mother. I've never signed my name Dobrick, so why do people always call me that? Wait a minute, this isn't about my name. Why is KZ's school sending me a personalized letter instead of a general form letter?
"After careful consideration,"
Oh no, what are they carefully considering? Does KZ have a speech impediment? Jeremy and I are so worried about that. She can talk up a storm sometimes and other times, she cannot say banana correctly.
"It's ba-NAN-a. Say ba-NAN a," Jeremy says.
"Nana! Nana! Daddy, can I have a nana, peas!"
"It's PA-LEES, not peas."
"Ok, daddy, Nana PEAS."
Is it her hearing or is there something worse wrong with her. I saw an awful episode on House that started something like this. The four year-old died of some terrible disease that could have been prevented if only someone had caught it. One of the signs was his inability to hear certain sounds and therefore make up words. Is this my warning? Should I call a specialist? House, that damn show. It sends me to the Internet for every thing.
"We believe that KZ ..."
Oh, no, it is a "we" thing, not an "I" or a "you", but a "we". People have been thinking about this. Not just one person but many.
"… is ready to begin the transitional process to the … "
Transitional process? Where are they planning to send her? Is her behavior that bad? Are they thinking some type of reform school for three-year olds? I've never heard of it, but this is New York. I'm sure one exists somewhere. She can be strong willed. She isn't into sharing. Can this be related to the popcorn incident where she didn't want to share? Wait, no, that between her father and her at the Muppet Movie. The school wouldn't know about that.
"… next level of developmental education … "
Are they saying she has developmental issues? Oh, God, I didn't think that was a problem. Maybe it is the speech thing, or worse, the House episode in real life.
"… and graduate to the Bumblebee Class."
The Bumblebee Class? THE Bumblebee Class? That is the grade level ahead of KZ's current level of Butterfly. It is effectively skipping a grade, before there are actually grades to skip. KZ has no where else to go but kindergarten and we haven't applied to kindergartens. Of course, in New York, we do have to wait until she is five to go to kindergarten and she cannot even take the tests until she is four. She is only three years and six months, not even seven months, and she is being graduated to the Bumblebee Class?
"Please feel free to request a conference with me if you have any questions."
I have one question. Who stole my little Butterfly and replaced her with a Bumblebee? A real live active Bumblebee who does things like clean up, take bathes, and dress all by herself. I heard her get up the other night, use the potty, flush the toilet, and go back to bed. I just sat there for a moment trying to take it all in. She is such a little independent person. But other times, she is my baby and needs to be cuddled. I need to cuddle her. Mommy needs the cuddles.
My little Bumblebee is growing up faster than I ever imagined.
Why can't anyone get my name right? I'm Ms. Hoover, not Mrs. Dobrick. That is Jeremy's mother. I've never signed my name Dobrick, so why do people always call me that? Wait a minute, this isn't about my name. Why is KZ's school sending me a personalized letter instead of a general form letter?
"After careful consideration,"
Oh no, what are they carefully considering? Does KZ have a speech impediment? Jeremy and I are so worried about that. She can talk up a storm sometimes and other times, she cannot say banana correctly.
"It's ba-NAN-a. Say ba-NAN a," Jeremy says.
"Nana! Nana! Daddy, can I have a nana, peas!"
"It's PA-LEES, not peas."
"Ok, daddy, Nana PEAS."
Is it her hearing or is there something worse wrong with her. I saw an awful episode on House that started something like this. The four year-old died of some terrible disease that could have been prevented if only someone had caught it. One of the signs was his inability to hear certain sounds and therefore make up words. Is this my warning? Should I call a specialist? House, that damn show. It sends me to the Internet for every thing.
"We believe that KZ ..."
Oh, no, it is a "we" thing, not an "I" or a "you", but a "we". People have been thinking about this. Not just one person but many.
"… is ready to begin the transitional process to the … "
Transitional process? Where are they planning to send her? Is her behavior that bad? Are they thinking some type of reform school for three-year olds? I've never heard of it, but this is New York. I'm sure one exists somewhere. She can be strong willed. She isn't into sharing. Can this be related to the popcorn incident where she didn't want to share? Wait, no, that between her father and her at the Muppet Movie. The school wouldn't know about that.
"… next level of developmental education … "
Are they saying she has developmental issues? Oh, God, I didn't think that was a problem. Maybe it is the speech thing, or worse, the House episode in real life.
"… and graduate to the Bumblebee Class."
The Bumblebee Class? THE Bumblebee Class? That is the grade level ahead of KZ's current level of Butterfly. It is effectively skipping a grade, before there are actually grades to skip. KZ has no where else to go but kindergarten and we haven't applied to kindergartens. Of course, in New York, we do have to wait until she is five to go to kindergarten and she cannot even take the tests until she is four. She is only three years and six months, not even seven months, and she is being graduated to the Bumblebee Class?
"Please feel free to request a conference with me if you have any questions."
I have one question. Who stole my little Butterfly and replaced her with a Bumblebee? A real live active Bumblebee who does things like clean up, take bathes, and dress all by herself. I heard her get up the other night, use the potty, flush the toilet, and go back to bed. I just sat there for a moment trying to take it all in. She is such a little independent person. But other times, she is my baby and needs to be cuddled. I need to cuddle her. Mommy needs the cuddles.
My little Bumblebee is growing up faster than I ever imagined.
Wednesday 16 November 2011
I was so tired last night
... that I gave Jake, KZ's cupcake and KZ Jake's bowl of water. She was sitting at the dinning room table looking at me as if I were crazy. I realized what I did in time to fight an empty paper cupcake wrapper out of Jake's mouth. Luckily for all of us it was a vanilla cupcake, and he didn't get sick.
Mommy needs a real vacation, or at least a few good nights of sleep.
Mommy needs a real vacation, or at least a few good nights of sleep.
Thursday 10 November 2011
The Upper East Side -- Spooky, Speedy, and Just Plain Sleazy!
We've been living on the Upper East Side (UES) for about nine months now. It's taken some time to get use to the place. Not that there is anything really wrong with it, it was just that we loved where we lived in TriBeCa. However, the past week has added a bit of color and adventure to the neighborhood -- some good, some strange, but definitely colorful. I've broken the story up into three parts for easier reading. Enjoy!
+++++++++++++
The Spooky!
Halloween on the UES is like Greenwich Village for little kids. Translation, rockin' cool party! I know we have a lot of kids in our area, but I do think a number of them took the 4, 5, or 6 train just to trick-or-treat here. The little kids wore amazing costumes, no K-Mart plastic here. Many of the parents, me not included, were dressed up as well. KZ was a Butterfly Princess -- not a stretch, but a character she could get into. I was a Tired Mom of a Butterfly Princess, and Jeremy was a Wall Street Bankster. I knew KZ's school had a party, and our building would have trick-or-treating, but the stores and restaurants are what took me by surprise. We could hardly move down the sidewalk on our way home from school around 5:00 pm. Every store, restaurant, nail salon, and business in general was giving out candy. Some even had staff standing on the street as kids lined up. Some poor business owners had signs up saying, "Sorry, out of candy. :-(" or "Trick-or-Treat Hours from 3-5". I didn't see one store that wasn't into it. Since KZ had a party at school, and was going to have another one at our building, I decided only to hit a few strategic places, such as my manicurist, L'Occitane, and the Two Little Hens Bakery for fresh baked cookies. They did not disappoint.
As we got closer to home, I noticed that most of the larger residential buildings were having parties in their lobby ... pizza, candy, drinks and entertainment. Some of the doorman, whom I see every day while walking the dogs, invited us in. I politely declined knowing that our building would be having something similar. They did, but since we have a very small lobby, it got kind of crazy. KZ was not deterred by the crowds. She walked into our lobby and said, "Hi, everybody. I'm KZ, and I'm here!" It was a proud moment for me. After the small party, we went upstairs for a wardrobe change to a different fairy (not butterfly) princess outfit, which enabled her to fly from floor to floor collecting her candy ... which we will be eating well into Thanksgiving week.
I was totally blown away by how the neighborhood got into it.
+++++++++++++
The Speedy!
The weather was perfect, for spectators and runners alike, at this year's New York City Marathon.
Now you want to talk about a cool street party for spectators and runners -- welcome to Marathon Sunday on the UES! The local pubs had DJ's blasting music. People were stacked up four deep along the course just to cheer. The little kids were playing in the streets! It seemed as if my entire neighborhood was into it.
The marathon runs down 1st Ave, which is one block to the west of our place. 86th Street was closed off, with plenty of police around. Therefore, almost all the little kids who were not paying attention to the race were all playing in the street. This really only happens once a year. New York isn't a place were kids can just play in the streets. But the bikes, trikes, skateboards, scooters, and little feet rushing around was a happy site to see.
The major drawback of Marathon Sunday is that we really cannot leave our area. We cannot cross 1st Avenue from approximately 10 am to 5 pm, and there is only one other block to the east before we hit the FDR Expressway. We are locked in. Some people who just can't handle this, leave for the weekend. However, the majority stay -- play in the streets and cheer. And cheer we did. We ran out of the house to see the leaders. It is always cool to see people running faster per mile over 26.2 miles than I can run over 26.2 feet. But after they flew by in a blink, we went back inside to watch the finish on TV.
When we knew that the 4 hour finishers, or mid-pack people, would be coming around, we went back outside. We were lucky enough to find space along the fence for all of us. KZ brought toys and some Halloween candy. She had a little picnic in the perfect weather as Jeremy and I cheered our lungs out for two hours. From running the Paris Marathon, I knew that the French yelled, "Allez, allez, allez!" which means, "Go, go, go!" I made sure I yelled "Allez, allez, allez!" for each person who identified as French. And there were a lot of them. I could hardly talk after all the cheering. Of course, if a person had a name on their shirt, I yelled that too. I know from experience that even if the runner does not acknowledge the cheering, it really does give a lift to their spirits. At the 17.5 mile point, where we were, it can get ugly. I saw grown men crying. Others, cramping, and a number who just started walking. These people I feel for. But the ones on their phone ... please! I can understand listening to music on an iPhone, but even the weight of an iPhone is too much for me. I just couldn't do all that training (or maybe they hadn't) to just phone it in, so to speak.
I was totally blown away by how the neighborhood got into it.
+++++++++++++
And Just Plain Sleazy!
With the time change comes darkness earlier, as we all know. This is nothing new, but this is the first time that I've noticed how clearly I can see into other people's apartments at night. In our last apartment, we were high up, and there really wasn't anyone close to us. I couldn't just look in and see what they were watching on TV, so to speak. Well, oddly enough, I can here. I'm not a voyeur, but I do like to keep my blinds open to see the lights of the city. If I cannot see stars at night, then I want to see a million little windows.
I might just have to start closing the blinds.
There is this guy, and yes, I do believe it is a guy unless it is a woman with a really short haircut and a strap-on, who likes to have sex in front of his windows with bright lights on in the background. I cannot "see" details, and I'm not looking to, but all I see are silhouettes. The first time I noticed this, I was sitting in one of our chairs in the living room, watching KZ watch her Strawberry Shortcake DVD. It was approximately 6:00 pm. I just look up, and bam ... what the what am I seeing? It is kind of like watching a train wreck. You don't want to watch, but then again, you're like, is this for real? My first reaction was, omg, this person doesn't know what they are doing. But then when it happened the next night, and the next night, and even one night he raised his arms in a Victory V, I thought I was going to hurl. Now, I'm not even sure if this is against the law. I would think, but then I don't know. I'm not looking for the show ... trust me, it is just plain creepy, but it seems that it doesn't matter what time of night it is, as soon as it gets dark, he gets busy. It could be 6 pm or 10 pm. So far, KZ has not noticed that anything freaky is happening. But I do think if freak-a-zoid boy doesn't move, I'll have to bring the blinds down. I don't want to see it, nor do I want to be distracted by trying to avoid my windows. We had blinds installed in the summer to keep out the heat of the sun. I never thought I would have to use them to keep out the heat of an exhibitionist.On top of it, I'm not sure if he is looking into other people apartments. And that really weirds me out, especially with a small child.
I was totally grossed out by how this neighbor gets into it.
+++++++++++++
The Spooky!
Halloween on the UES is like Greenwich Village for little kids. Translation, rockin' cool party! I know we have a lot of kids in our area, but I do think a number of them took the 4, 5, or 6 train just to trick-or-treat here. The little kids wore amazing costumes, no K-Mart plastic here. Many of the parents, me not included, were dressed up as well. KZ was a Butterfly Princess -- not a stretch, but a character she could get into. I was a Tired Mom of a Butterfly Princess, and Jeremy was a Wall Street Bankster. I knew KZ's school had a party, and our building would have trick-or-treating, but the stores and restaurants are what took me by surprise. We could hardly move down the sidewalk on our way home from school around 5:00 pm. Every store, restaurant, nail salon, and business in general was giving out candy. Some even had staff standing on the street as kids lined up. Some poor business owners had signs up saying, "Sorry, out of candy. :-(" or "Trick-or-Treat Hours from 3-5". I didn't see one store that wasn't into it. Since KZ had a party at school, and was going to have another one at our building, I decided only to hit a few strategic places, such as my manicurist, L'Occitane, and the Two Little Hens Bakery for fresh baked cookies. They did not disappoint.
As we got closer to home, I noticed that most of the larger residential buildings were having parties in their lobby ... pizza, candy, drinks and entertainment. Some of the doorman, whom I see every day while walking the dogs, invited us in. I politely declined knowing that our building would be having something similar. They did, but since we have a very small lobby, it got kind of crazy. KZ was not deterred by the crowds. She walked into our lobby and said, "Hi, everybody. I'm KZ, and I'm here!" It was a proud moment for me. After the small party, we went upstairs for a wardrobe change to a different fairy (not butterfly) princess outfit, which enabled her to fly from floor to floor collecting her candy ... which we will be eating well into Thanksgiving week.
I was totally blown away by how the neighborhood got into it.
+++++++++++++
The Speedy!
The weather was perfect, for spectators and runners alike, at this year's New York City Marathon.
Now you want to talk about a cool street party for spectators and runners -- welcome to Marathon Sunday on the UES! The local pubs had DJ's blasting music. People were stacked up four deep along the course just to cheer. The little kids were playing in the streets! It seemed as if my entire neighborhood was into it.
The marathon runs down 1st Ave, which is one block to the west of our place. 86th Street was closed off, with plenty of police around. Therefore, almost all the little kids who were not paying attention to the race were all playing in the street. This really only happens once a year. New York isn't a place were kids can just play in the streets. But the bikes, trikes, skateboards, scooters, and little feet rushing around was a happy site to see.
The major drawback of Marathon Sunday is that we really cannot leave our area. We cannot cross 1st Avenue from approximately 10 am to 5 pm, and there is only one other block to the east before we hit the FDR Expressway. We are locked in. Some people who just can't handle this, leave for the weekend. However, the majority stay -- play in the streets and cheer. And cheer we did. We ran out of the house to see the leaders. It is always cool to see people running faster per mile over 26.2 miles than I can run over 26.2 feet. But after they flew by in a blink, we went back inside to watch the finish on TV.
When we knew that the 4 hour finishers, or mid-pack people, would be coming around, we went back outside. We were lucky enough to find space along the fence for all of us. KZ brought toys and some Halloween candy. She had a little picnic in the perfect weather as Jeremy and I cheered our lungs out for two hours. From running the Paris Marathon, I knew that the French yelled, "Allez, allez, allez!" which means, "Go, go, go!" I made sure I yelled "Allez, allez, allez!" for each person who identified as French. And there were a lot of them. I could hardly talk after all the cheering. Of course, if a person had a name on their shirt, I yelled that too. I know from experience that even if the runner does not acknowledge the cheering, it really does give a lift to their spirits. At the 17.5 mile point, where we were, it can get ugly. I saw grown men crying. Others, cramping, and a number who just started walking. These people I feel for. But the ones on their phone ... please! I can understand listening to music on an iPhone, but even the weight of an iPhone is too much for me. I just couldn't do all that training (or maybe they hadn't) to just phone it in, so to speak.
I was totally blown away by how the neighborhood got into it.
+++++++++++++
And Just Plain Sleazy!
With the time change comes darkness earlier, as we all know. This is nothing new, but this is the first time that I've noticed how clearly I can see into other people's apartments at night. In our last apartment, we were high up, and there really wasn't anyone close to us. I couldn't just look in and see what they were watching on TV, so to speak. Well, oddly enough, I can here. I'm not a voyeur, but I do like to keep my blinds open to see the lights of the city. If I cannot see stars at night, then I want to see a million little windows.
I might just have to start closing the blinds.
There is this guy, and yes, I do believe it is a guy unless it is a woman with a really short haircut and a strap-on, who likes to have sex in front of his windows with bright lights on in the background. I cannot "see" details, and I'm not looking to, but all I see are silhouettes. The first time I noticed this, I was sitting in one of our chairs in the living room, watching KZ watch her Strawberry Shortcake DVD. It was approximately 6:00 pm. I just look up, and bam ... what the what am I seeing? It is kind of like watching a train wreck. You don't want to watch, but then again, you're like, is this for real? My first reaction was, omg, this person doesn't know what they are doing. But then when it happened the next night, and the next night, and even one night he raised his arms in a Victory V, I thought I was going to hurl. Now, I'm not even sure if this is against the law. I would think, but then I don't know. I'm not looking for the show ... trust me, it is just plain creepy, but it seems that it doesn't matter what time of night it is, as soon as it gets dark, he gets busy. It could be 6 pm or 10 pm. So far, KZ has not noticed that anything freaky is happening. But I do think if freak-a-zoid boy doesn't move, I'll have to bring the blinds down. I don't want to see it, nor do I want to be distracted by trying to avoid my windows. We had blinds installed in the summer to keep out the heat of the sun. I never thought I would have to use them to keep out the heat of an exhibitionist.On top of it, I'm not sure if he is looking into other people apartments. And that really weirds me out, especially with a small child.
I was totally grossed out by how this neighbor gets into it.
Tuesday 25 October 2011
The Sydney Harbour Bridge Climb, Maybe
Acrophobia and ancraophobia, describe the two things which frighten me the most. Acrophobia is the fear of heights. Ancraophobia is the fear of wind. I can't tell you exactly when each condition started, but I can remember the first time I felt each one. I was ten, walking home from K-Mart over the 79th Street Bridge in Bridgeview, our town on the southwest side of Chicago. The bridge went over a freight railroad track, which lead to an industrial park that became our playground of rusted railroad spikes and abandoned shipping palettes. Standing at the top of the bridge one day, with the woosh of busy traffic to my back and a speeding freight train underneath, I decided to lean as far over the railing as possible. The motion and wind from the train and the cars, coupled with my being upside down, made me so dizzy that I almost passed out. I was able to right myself, but never again was I able to walk over that bridge, or any bridge, without weak knees. Intensifying my wind fears, is the fact that I can't see wind. People laugh when I say this, but think about it. Wind comes from nowhere and can destroy instantly. It could be a beautiful sunny day, a hurricane, or anything in between. You just cannot predict the wind's force. I saw the damage caused by many tornados when I was a child. People died. The wind could kill. I knew this.
I never know when my fear will stop me cold in my tracks, or when I I'll be able to make it to my goal, wobbly knees and all. One day, I was looking at a new apartment building in Chicago which had a health club on the top floor, fifty stories in the sky. They didn't have the barricades set up yet for the outdoor pool, but asked if we wanted to see it anyway. As soon as I was outside, my legs gave out. I buckled to the ground, unable to move. I had to be carried off. I never even attempted to go to the Observation Deck at the top of the World Trade Center. I was too terrified to go near the buildings, let alone inside or on the top of them. I did manage to make it to the top of the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower -- sick, nervous, and shaking the entire time. I'm not going to do it again, but I did do it.
Despite my debilitating fears, I have traveled, by plane, trying to experience as much of what the world has to offer from the man-made to the natural. Life has treated me well. I hiked the Inca Trail with it's shear drop offs with little to no problems, but stopped short at the last fifty yards of Angel's Landing in Zion National Park. No, I really didn't have to see that last bit. I had climbed high enough without killing myself. People rarely die from falls on the Inca Trail, but
it seems there is at least one death a year at Angel's Landing. I didn't need to be that one.
I'm now at the point in my life where I have traveled everywhere I ever dreamed of as a child, and done more than I could have ever expected. My A list is done. Now I'm working on the B and C lists. My husband wants to go as a family to Australia. This could be a great adventure. I've done twenty-two hour flights before, but Australia may even be longer if we count the layovers. But what does one do in Australia? There is Ayer's Rock and the Great Barrier Reef, and I'm sure I can find some tour associated with the movie, Priscilla Queen of the Desert. But what is really calling me to travel all that way, besides people with a cool accent offering me a cold Fosters and shrimp on the barbie?
Each time I think about it, I think about the Sydney Harbour Bridge. The bridge is 134 meters high, approximately 440 feet or the equivalent of a 36 story high rise. It is the largest steel-arch bridge in the world. The Bridge Climb of Sydney Tour Operators offer three tours. The Discovery and Bridge Climbs are approximately three and a half hours with fourteen people per tour. The Bridge Climb is an overall sightseeing climb with the Discovery Climb based more on the engineering aspects of the bridge itself. There is also an Express Climb at two hours and fifteen minutes with twelve people per tour. This is designed more for the hurry-up, take the pictures, check it off the list type of tourists … Americans.
Being an engineer by training, I'm looking at the Discovery Tour. But will I truly be able to do it after traveling all that distance? If it is a windy day, or even not … because the wind could change, will I have the courage to take on both of my fears? Knowing myself, I'll at least start the journey. I'll at least make it to the bridge, inquire with the guides, and decide on the day -- in the moment.
XXX
I never know when my fear will stop me cold in my tracks, or when I I'll be able to make it to my goal, wobbly knees and all. One day, I was looking at a new apartment building in Chicago which had a health club on the top floor, fifty stories in the sky. They didn't have the barricades set up yet for the outdoor pool, but asked if we wanted to see it anyway. As soon as I was outside, my legs gave out. I buckled to the ground, unable to move. I had to be carried off. I never even attempted to go to the Observation Deck at the top of the World Trade Center. I was too terrified to go near the buildings, let alone inside or on the top of them. I did manage to make it to the top of the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower -- sick, nervous, and shaking the entire time. I'm not going to do it again, but I did do it.
Despite my debilitating fears, I have traveled, by plane, trying to experience as much of what the world has to offer from the man-made to the natural. Life has treated me well. I hiked the Inca Trail with it's shear drop offs with little to no problems, but stopped short at the last fifty yards of Angel's Landing in Zion National Park. No, I really didn't have to see that last bit. I had climbed high enough without killing myself. People rarely die from falls on the Inca Trail, but
it seems there is at least one death a year at Angel's Landing. I didn't need to be that one.
I'm now at the point in my life where I have traveled everywhere I ever dreamed of as a child, and done more than I could have ever expected. My A list is done. Now I'm working on the B and C lists. My husband wants to go as a family to Australia. This could be a great adventure. I've done twenty-two hour flights before, but Australia may even be longer if we count the layovers. But what does one do in Australia? There is Ayer's Rock and the Great Barrier Reef, and I'm sure I can find some tour associated with the movie, Priscilla Queen of the Desert. But what is really calling me to travel all that way, besides people with a cool accent offering me a cold Fosters and shrimp on the barbie?
Each time I think about it, I think about the Sydney Harbour Bridge. The bridge is 134 meters high, approximately 440 feet or the equivalent of a 36 story high rise. It is the largest steel-arch bridge in the world. The Bridge Climb of Sydney Tour Operators offer three tours. The Discovery and Bridge Climbs are approximately three and a half hours with fourteen people per tour. The Bridge Climb is an overall sightseeing climb with the Discovery Climb based more on the engineering aspects of the bridge itself. There is also an Express Climb at two hours and fifteen minutes with twelve people per tour. This is designed more for the hurry-up, take the pictures, check it off the list type of tourists … Americans.
Being an engineer by training, I'm looking at the Discovery Tour. But will I truly be able to do it after traveling all that distance? If it is a windy day, or even not … because the wind could change, will I have the courage to take on both of my fears? Knowing myself, I'll at least start the journey. I'll at least make it to the bridge, inquire with the guides, and decide on the day -- in the moment.
XXX
Friday 21 October 2011
Some days you have it all figured out ...
... then there was this morning.
Jeremy left for work and I needed to use the bathroom. The Today show was on, the dogs were sleeping on the sofa, and KZ was playing with her toys. I went into the bathroom for a few minutes. When I came out, the Today show was on, the dogs were sleeping on the sofa, and KZ was no where to be found.
I headed for the front door. It was open. Jeremy must have left it unlocked, and I didn't check it after he left. An immediate sick feeling hit my gut.
I ran into the communal hallway to find my smiling three year old daughter standing there only in her underwear heading for the stairwell.
"Hi, Mommy!"
Once inside, we had a conversation about how it is NOT safe to be outside the apartment without Mommy or Daddy. We have had this conversation before. I hope, but do not know, that my neighbors are trustworthy, but I'd rather not find out the hard way.
This parent job is so hard.
Jeremy left for work and I needed to use the bathroom. The Today show was on, the dogs were sleeping on the sofa, and KZ was playing with her toys. I went into the bathroom for a few minutes. When I came out, the Today show was on, the dogs were sleeping on the sofa, and KZ was no where to be found.
I headed for the front door. It was open. Jeremy must have left it unlocked, and I didn't check it after he left. An immediate sick feeling hit my gut.
I ran into the communal hallway to find my smiling three year old daughter standing there only in her underwear heading for the stairwell.
"Hi, Mommy!"
Once inside, we had a conversation about how it is NOT safe to be outside the apartment without Mommy or Daddy. We have had this conversation before. I hope, but do not know, that my neighbors are trustworthy, but I'd rather not find out the hard way.
This parent job is so hard.
Thursday 20 October 2011
A Novel Approach
KZ has this habit of piling all our books, as many of them as she can reach, on the floor. She piles them two or three high and places them lengthwise across our living room area. We have a lot of books. She seems to get excited while doing this. Not nervous, but as if she is on a deadline. She is extremely focused in her work.
"Come on Mommy, help me, help me!"
Sometimes I help, other times I tell her that Mommy is busy. I don't really know why she is doing this, but she does it often -- but not every day. Once all the books are in place, she seems to calm down, then goes about her normal business of being a three years old. She does not let me move the books.
Yesterday morning, she woke up, looked out the window and said, "It's raining, Mommy!" Then immediately started piling the books along the floor.
"Help me, Mommy, help me!"
"Honey, WHY are we doing this?"
"Mommy, we are building a damn in case it floods."
Oh, now I get it. Mommy can be the slow one in comparison to KZ. With all the rain in the New York/New Jersey area, she's been seeing a lot of flooding and a lot of sandbags and damns. She knows from her Strawberry Shortcake videos that damns keep the town safe when it floods. She is doing her part to make sure we stay safe.
Jeremy walked into the living room.
"KZ, why are all the books on the floor?"
"Because it is raining, and rains may bring floods, and floods need damns. She is protecting our home," I answered.
He just looked at me and smiled.
"I like her logic," he said.
"Come on Mommy, help me, help me!"
Sometimes I help, other times I tell her that Mommy is busy. I don't really know why she is doing this, but she does it often -- but not every day. Once all the books are in place, she seems to calm down, then goes about her normal business of being a three years old. She does not let me move the books.
Yesterday morning, she woke up, looked out the window and said, "It's raining, Mommy!" Then immediately started piling the books along the floor.
"Help me, Mommy, help me!"
"Honey, WHY are we doing this?"
"Mommy, we are building a damn in case it floods."
Oh, now I get it. Mommy can be the slow one in comparison to KZ. With all the rain in the New York/New Jersey area, she's been seeing a lot of flooding and a lot of sandbags and damns. She knows from her Strawberry Shortcake videos that damns keep the town safe when it floods. She is doing her part to make sure we stay safe.
Jeremy walked into the living room.
"KZ, why are all the books on the floor?"
"Because it is raining, and rains may bring floods, and floods need damns. She is protecting our home," I answered.
He just looked at me and smiled.
"I like her logic," he said.
Friday 14 October 2011
Happy Halloween
Halloween has always been such a wonderful time of year. With summer having passed, but the winter still not upon us, the perfect autumnal nights brought with it the crisp air and ever so light breezes. It was the perfectly timed breezes that brought forth the lovely reds, yellows, and golds drifting spookily down upon us while we would trick-or-treat under the old elm trees. Walking down the white sidewalks, which cut through the manicured lawns, we were always amazed by the amount of decorations on each house we passed. The houses, designed primarily by Mr. Wright, had orange lights delicately hanging from the over sized eaves. All the porches sported jack-o-lanterns with the real candles burning within. Each family had handmade witches, ghosts, and cobwebs strategically placed on their house and throughout their yard. All yards and sidewalks were well lit so that no little child would feel afraid in any way.
The neighbors decorated extensively for Halloween, however, each family had its own unique style. The Stewart family hosted pumpkin carving lessons weeks before the big night. Mrs. Stewart would sit each of us down with our own pumpkin, patterns, and carving tools with her name on them from Michael's craft store explaining in detail what we should be striving for. She was interested, too, in people expressing their true personality, as long as it conformed to her set of rules. This was fine with most of us, because we felt Mrs. Steward was always correct. She taught us how to carve our pumpkins in such a way that they would not rot before Halloween
"That would not be a good things," she would say.
Mrs. Stewart's home was always a symbol of perfection. Unnoticed, she did have a full staff working behind the scenes making it appear as if she did everything by herself.
Concerning costumes, each family would handmade their own, surrounding a central theme suggested by Mr. Gunn. Since, of course, all the mothers (and even most of the fathers) knew how to sew, this little competition lead by Mr. Gunn was always a lot of fun. I do remember the year my parents went as Mr. and Mrs. Dracula. Mom's naturally flowing black hair, formed the frame for the ghostly white theater paint she had applied to her face. Mrs. Klum, while visibly pregnant, applied Mom's make-up details. My parents wore matching costumes; white shirts, black trouser/skirt, and black satin capes. Dad had a red cummerbund, while Mom wore a red corset. I was a little vampire. I had my hair pulled back in a tight bun, and wore a rhinestone choker to "hide" my puncture wounds. I wore a long white dress with puffy capped sleeves, an a fake corset sewed directly into the dress. The dress was trimmed in black. My red accents came via my lips and cheekbones, thanks to Mrs. Klum. My brother, wanting to deviate from our vampire look, went with a pirate costume. He was still in the black, white, and red color motif. Unfortunately, his being a pirate, not a vampire, did disqualify us from the family costume contest. My brother was somehow able to keep his costume clean while he ran around with the other boys over the haystacks and through the pumpkin patch.
Each year, the block party committee would secure a permit for a Halloween Fest on our street. After the Michael Jackson video "Thriller" came out in December of 1983, Mrs. Abdul taught each of us the dance. Oh what fun we would have bouncing around the streets in our werewolf, mummy, and zombie costumes. That was always a real treat. After the traditional dance which signified the start of our party, we would proceed to speed pumpkin carving, candy apple making sessions, and apple bobbing contests to name a few of the organized activities. For those children who loved apple bobby, and honestly who doesn't, the barrel seemed endless We could get wet while bobbing, but couldn't be seen afterwards as wet at all. The secret, our parents always had a spare, dry costume ready. All of the food judging competitions would be conducted by Mr. Brown, even the homemade apple cider tasting. This was non-alcoholic, of course, because public displays of intoxication were just not tolerated. Speaking of drinks and food, we did have a wonderful array of sweets and savory dishes. Many of the families, lead by Mrs. Ray, would whip up a variety of meals, each taking no more than 30 minutes.
The evening would wrap up no later than 9 PM. The streets needed to be cleaned, food stored properly and children well rested for the next day.
Oh, Halloween, what wonderful memories ... or was it all just marketing I remember?
The neighbors decorated extensively for Halloween, however, each family had its own unique style. The Stewart family hosted pumpkin carving lessons weeks before the big night. Mrs. Stewart would sit each of us down with our own pumpkin, patterns, and carving tools with her name on them from Michael's craft store explaining in detail what we should be striving for. She was interested, too, in people expressing their true personality, as long as it conformed to her set of rules. This was fine with most of us, because we felt Mrs. Steward was always correct. She taught us how to carve our pumpkins in such a way that they would not rot before Halloween
"That would not be a good things," she would say.
Mrs. Stewart's home was always a symbol of perfection. Unnoticed, she did have a full staff working behind the scenes making it appear as if she did everything by herself.
Concerning costumes, each family would handmade their own, surrounding a central theme suggested by Mr. Gunn. Since, of course, all the mothers (and even most of the fathers) knew how to sew, this little competition lead by Mr. Gunn was always a lot of fun. I do remember the year my parents went as Mr. and Mrs. Dracula. Mom's naturally flowing black hair, formed the frame for the ghostly white theater paint she had applied to her face. Mrs. Klum, while visibly pregnant, applied Mom's make-up details. My parents wore matching costumes; white shirts, black trouser/skirt, and black satin capes. Dad had a red cummerbund, while Mom wore a red corset. I was a little vampire. I had my hair pulled back in a tight bun, and wore a rhinestone choker to "hide" my puncture wounds. I wore a long white dress with puffy capped sleeves, an a fake corset sewed directly into the dress. The dress was trimmed in black. My red accents came via my lips and cheekbones, thanks to Mrs. Klum. My brother, wanting to deviate from our vampire look, went with a pirate costume. He was still in the black, white, and red color motif. Unfortunately, his being a pirate, not a vampire, did disqualify us from the family costume contest. My brother was somehow able to keep his costume clean while he ran around with the other boys over the haystacks and through the pumpkin patch.
Each year, the block party committee would secure a permit for a Halloween Fest on our street. After the Michael Jackson video "Thriller" came out in December of 1983, Mrs. Abdul taught each of us the dance. Oh what fun we would have bouncing around the streets in our werewolf, mummy, and zombie costumes. That was always a real treat. After the traditional dance which signified the start of our party, we would proceed to speed pumpkin carving, candy apple making sessions, and apple bobbing contests to name a few of the organized activities. For those children who loved apple bobby, and honestly who doesn't, the barrel seemed endless We could get wet while bobbing, but couldn't be seen afterwards as wet at all. The secret, our parents always had a spare, dry costume ready. All of the food judging competitions would be conducted by Mr. Brown, even the homemade apple cider tasting. This was non-alcoholic, of course, because public displays of intoxication were just not tolerated. Speaking of drinks and food, we did have a wonderful array of sweets and savory dishes. Many of the families, lead by Mrs. Ray, would whip up a variety of meals, each taking no more than 30 minutes.
The evening would wrap up no later than 9 PM. The streets needed to be cleaned, food stored properly and children well rested for the next day.
Oh, Halloween, what wonderful memories ... or was it all just marketing I remember?
Tuesday 11 October 2011
Chicago Marathon, October 9, 2011
Not sure if you heard the two stories about the Chicago Marathon, on October 9, 2011. Ok, I'll be more specific. There were 45,000 runners, so there were closer to 45,000 stories, all very meaningful in their own way. Two struck me in particular.
The one you may have heard, because it has been on the national news, was of Amber Miller, a 27 year-old mother of one and an experienced marathoner. Amber was also 38 weeks and 5 days pregnant. Since she had always been a runner, her doctor encouraged her to continue with her running. She even ran a marathon earlier in her pregnancy. When race day came, it was beautiful, and she felt up for the run. She did a combination of running two miles and walking two miles, completing the race in 6:25:50, placing 34,339 ... beating over ten thousand people. After the race, she got herself a sandwich, then decided that she felt as if she was in labor so headed to the hospital, where she delivered a healthy baby girl, weighting over 7 lbs, later that evening. Mother and baby were both doing well! And may I say, Amber looked amazing while being interviewed. I guess you get that from being 27! I found it interesting that so many people were shocked or surprised by her running. I say good for her! I wouldn't encourage someone who never ran a step in her life to start running while pregnant, but if you do run, why stop? I ran two marathons while pregnant, Amsterdam at 12 weeks, and Disney at 24 weeks. I stopped running after the Disney Marathon, not so much that I wasn't allowed to run, more that I was just plain tired of running. I was also 42 years-old, and this was my first pregnancy. I wanted to enjoy it. There was, and is I hope, plenty of time to train in the future. I did do spinning up until the day I delivered, freaking out my spin instructor.
The other story that you most likely didn't hear about, unless you were reading a local Chicago or Greensboro, North Carolina paper was of Will Caviness, a 35-year old fire fighter, father of two -- 4 year-old boy and an 11 month-old girl, who was raising money for burn victims. His goal was to raise $2,000 and had surpassed it by $500. He died 500 yards from the finish line. The autopsy is still inconclusive as I type this. The Chicago Marathon results page had estimated he would come in at 3:05, which is damn fast. He was an experienced marathoner, coming in at 3:17 at the Outer Banks Marathon last year. They said he did his training runs pushing his daughter in her stroller. Gut wrenching, especially to this mother of a 3.5 year old. You want to talk about just plain wrong. I went to the website to donate to his charity, http://www.active.com/donate/IAFFBFdnBoACM11/WCavine, on Monday, and the donations were over $3,000. As I type this, they are now over $13,000.
Both of these stories hit very close to home for me. These runners were doing what they loved, and doing exactly the same things I would have done. If it is our time to be born or die, does it really matter if we are running a marathon or sitting on the sofa watching a marathon? Only the Universe truly knows. Do what you love, because you never really know what is going to happen next.
My heart and prayers go out to both of these families -- the new life that is, and the life that ended way too soon.
The one you may have heard, because it has been on the national news, was of Amber Miller, a 27 year-old mother of one and an experienced marathoner. Amber was also 38 weeks and 5 days pregnant. Since she had always been a runner, her doctor encouraged her to continue with her running. She even ran a marathon earlier in her pregnancy. When race day came, it was beautiful, and she felt up for the run. She did a combination of running two miles and walking two miles, completing the race in 6:25:50, placing 34,339 ... beating over ten thousand people. After the race, she got herself a sandwich, then decided that she felt as if she was in labor so headed to the hospital, where she delivered a healthy baby girl, weighting over 7 lbs, later that evening. Mother and baby were both doing well! And may I say, Amber looked amazing while being interviewed. I guess you get that from being 27! I found it interesting that so many people were shocked or surprised by her running. I say good for her! I wouldn't encourage someone who never ran a step in her life to start running while pregnant, but if you do run, why stop? I ran two marathons while pregnant, Amsterdam at 12 weeks, and Disney at 24 weeks. I stopped running after the Disney Marathon, not so much that I wasn't allowed to run, more that I was just plain tired of running. I was also 42 years-old, and this was my first pregnancy. I wanted to enjoy it. There was, and is I hope, plenty of time to train in the future. I did do spinning up until the day I delivered, freaking out my spin instructor.
The other story that you most likely didn't hear about, unless you were reading a local Chicago or Greensboro, North Carolina paper was of Will Caviness, a 35-year old fire fighter, father of two -- 4 year-old boy and an 11 month-old girl, who was raising money for burn victims. His goal was to raise $2,000 and had surpassed it by $500. He died 500 yards from the finish line. The autopsy is still inconclusive as I type this. The Chicago Marathon results page had estimated he would come in at 3:05, which is damn fast. He was an experienced marathoner, coming in at 3:17 at the Outer Banks Marathon last year. They said he did his training runs pushing his daughter in her stroller. Gut wrenching, especially to this mother of a 3.5 year old. You want to talk about just plain wrong. I went to the website to donate to his charity, http://www.active.com/donate/IAFFBFdnBoACM11/WCavine, on Monday, and the donations were over $3,000. As I type this, they are now over $13,000.
Both of these stories hit very close to home for me. These runners were doing what they loved, and doing exactly the same things I would have done. If it is our time to be born or die, does it really matter if we are running a marathon or sitting on the sofa watching a marathon? Only the Universe truly knows. Do what you love, because you never really know what is going to happen next.
My heart and prayers go out to both of these families -- the new life that is, and the life that ended way too soon.
Thursday 6 October 2011
She Really is a Big Girl Now
"Thank you all for coming, Mommy."
This was one of the many wondrous things my daughter has said to me lately. I smiled as my heart melted, then gave her the biggest hug.
"You are welcome, KZ so very welcome."
KZ has taken to dancing lately. She likes to perform impromptu dance recitals at random moments during the day. This morning, after she finished her latest performance, she clasped her hands, bowed ever so slightly, then said, "Thank you all for coming, Mommy." I don't where she gets it. Is it school with her Kimmy Schwimmy Music Classes or her Strawberry Shortcake DVDs? I know they have dance with Mr. Ray once or twice a week at school, depending on the week. We don't particularly dance at home. We are not trained dancers, nor do we even play music that often. But KZ does seem drawn to music and movement. Considering how many little kids are obese or overweight, we consider this a good thing. She has a Mozart Cube, which is a toy that plays Mozart either with a full orchestra or just one instrument at a time. She can press several sides and hear up to seven instruments at the same time. She loves it. She plays it constantly as her dance music. She twirls in her beautiful princess dresses in front of our large foyer mirror as she sings and dances.
She's a big girl.
A few mornings ago, I woke up in the dark. As I went to grab my iPhone to see what time it was, I knocked over a full glass of water.
"Shit!"
KZ sat up next to me.
"Shit! Don't worry, Mommy, it happens sometimes."
I wasn't sure if I was dreaming on two levels. One, I had no idea that she was in bed with me. She's taken to stealthily crawling in bed with us in the middle of the night. Two … don't worry, it happens? Out of all the swearing my husband does, her first swear word had to be mine. But the "don't worry, it happens" part, where did that come from? When something bad happens, I always tell her, "Don't worry, it happens." I have just never said that "shit happens." The fact that she put the two together, I find priceless.
She's a big girl.
From everything I could tell, KZ was ready to be out of pull-ups at night. She was so over diapers … they were for babies. But, the pull-ups we had stuck with for night sleeping. I had been told by experienced mothers that children hit this milestone at different ages. It really has a lot to do with how deeply they sleep. KZ has been an amazing sleeper since she was born. She was sleeping through the night at seven weeks. I have had no issues here. She was also potty trained by her second birthday. So, at three years, four months, and ten days, I decided to pull the pull-ups. I didn't talk to her about it, or make a big deal. I just put her in underwear, tucked her in, and kissed her good night, like every night.
Right before I went to bed, several hours later, I tried to wake her up to use the potty.
"Mommy, what are you doing?"
"I'm just going to take you to the potty."
"I don't have to go potty. I'm sleeping!"
Alrighty then. I tucked her back in, kissed her goodnight, and turned off the lights.
And in the morning, she was dry.
She really is a big girl now.
This was one of the many wondrous things my daughter has said to me lately. I smiled as my heart melted, then gave her the biggest hug.
"You are welcome, KZ so very welcome."
KZ has taken to dancing lately. She likes to perform impromptu dance recitals at random moments during the day. This morning, after she finished her latest performance, she clasped her hands, bowed ever so slightly, then said, "Thank you all for coming, Mommy." I don't where she gets it. Is it school with her Kimmy Schwimmy Music Classes or her Strawberry Shortcake DVDs? I know they have dance with Mr. Ray once or twice a week at school, depending on the week. We don't particularly dance at home. We are not trained dancers, nor do we even play music that often. But KZ does seem drawn to music and movement. Considering how many little kids are obese or overweight, we consider this a good thing. She has a Mozart Cube, which is a toy that plays Mozart either with a full orchestra or just one instrument at a time. She can press several sides and hear up to seven instruments at the same time. She loves it. She plays it constantly as her dance music. She twirls in her beautiful princess dresses in front of our large foyer mirror as she sings and dances.
She's a big girl.
A few mornings ago, I woke up in the dark. As I went to grab my iPhone to see what time it was, I knocked over a full glass of water.
"Shit!"
KZ sat up next to me.
"Shit! Don't worry, Mommy, it happens sometimes."
I wasn't sure if I was dreaming on two levels. One, I had no idea that she was in bed with me. She's taken to stealthily crawling in bed with us in the middle of the night. Two … don't worry, it happens? Out of all the swearing my husband does, her first swear word had to be mine. But the "don't worry, it happens" part, where did that come from? When something bad happens, I always tell her, "Don't worry, it happens." I have just never said that "shit happens." The fact that she put the two together, I find priceless.
She's a big girl.
From everything I could tell, KZ was ready to be out of pull-ups at night. She was so over diapers … they were for babies. But, the pull-ups we had stuck with for night sleeping. I had been told by experienced mothers that children hit this milestone at different ages. It really has a lot to do with how deeply they sleep. KZ has been an amazing sleeper since she was born. She was sleeping through the night at seven weeks. I have had no issues here. She was also potty trained by her second birthday. So, at three years, four months, and ten days, I decided to pull the pull-ups. I didn't talk to her about it, or make a big deal. I just put her in underwear, tucked her in, and kissed her good night, like every night.
Right before I went to bed, several hours later, I tried to wake her up to use the potty.
"Mommy, what are you doing?"
"I'm just going to take you to the potty."
"I don't have to go potty. I'm sleeping!"
Alrighty then. I tucked her back in, kissed her goodnight, and turned off the lights.
And in the morning, she was dry.
She really is a big girl now.
Wecome Back!
Wow, I can't believe how long it has been since I posted! I ran into a big of a tough spot towards the end of summer. I was so busy, and had been "thinking" about my writing, that I didn't even realize it had been so long since I actually posted anything. Much has happened, I do so hope to be able to type about it, if not today, then in the near future. I want to thank everyone who emailed me asking about the blog. I do appreciate that people are/were checking!
As most people know, Steve Jobs passed yesterday. I'm going to take a line from his 2005 Stanford Commencement speech, and use it as part of my life. As I'm sure you've all read, this by now, but the following is the excerpt:
"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."
In the past, I've been afraid to write, act, paint, whatever, because I was worried about the judgement of others. I can blame it on my past, but honestly, I need to live in the present. Move On. It is a theme that has been coming up a lot over the summer for me in various places from books to lectures to even my yoga class. It doesn't mean we cannot mourn the past, but we, or should I say I, need to move on.
And that being said, I want to post a few things about the most amazing little girl I know, KZ. I had a piece I wrote about KZ reviewed by someone without children, but who is a writer. She said, "So what? What makes her any different than any other kid?" I got her point as in, if I want to sell this to a magazine, it needs that special grab, but I also feel, hey, what makes KZ so special? She's mine. I fought for years to become pregnant and feel blessed beyond compare to have her. And God knows, KZ is the in that FUN stage now. Everything she does involves laughter and happiness. She goes to bed with ease telling me she loves me and misses me already and wakes up smiling running to me with arms wide open saying how much she loves me. I've heard it changes as they get older, but for me, right now, I'm enjoying my present ... the gift of KZ.
As most people know, Steve Jobs passed yesterday. I'm going to take a line from his 2005 Stanford Commencement speech, and use it as part of my life. As I'm sure you've all read, this by now, but the following is the excerpt:
"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."
In the past, I've been afraid to write, act, paint, whatever, because I was worried about the judgement of others. I can blame it on my past, but honestly, I need to live in the present. Move On. It is a theme that has been coming up a lot over the summer for me in various places from books to lectures to even my yoga class. It doesn't mean we cannot mourn the past, but we, or should I say I, need to move on.
And that being said, I want to post a few things about the most amazing little girl I know, KZ. I had a piece I wrote about KZ reviewed by someone without children, but who is a writer. She said, "So what? What makes her any different than any other kid?" I got her point as in, if I want to sell this to a magazine, it needs that special grab, but I also feel, hey, what makes KZ so special? She's mine. I fought for years to become pregnant and feel blessed beyond compare to have her. And God knows, KZ is the in that FUN stage now. Everything she does involves laughter and happiness. She goes to bed with ease telling me she loves me and misses me already and wakes up smiling running to me with arms wide open saying how much she loves me. I've heard it changes as they get older, but for me, right now, I'm enjoying my present ... the gift of KZ.
Thank you, Mr. Jobs
Today is a sad day not only for the nation, but the world. As I'm sure everyone knows, Steve Jobs passed away yesterday from cancer at the age of 56, leaving behind a wife and four children, 47,000 employees and and entire world who loved using his products. One of my mantras is that I leave the world a better place than when I arrived. He truly did. It is ironic in a sense that most people found out about his passing on a device that he created. Being a computer science engineer, I can tell you that I've worked with a lot of BADLY designed products. Some of the crazy things I had to do to keep hardware or software working, or even get it started in the first place, is shameful to the people who designed it. Never with an Apple product. They always, always just worked. I find that most people who have issues with any Apple device, really just have issues. It isn't the device (usually -- sure there are errors even in the Apple world), but the end user. He may not have been the greatest human being to his friends and family (I'll let everyone find that out if they want via Google), but he was one of the greatest inventors and thinkers of our time.
It's been said hundreds of times already this morning, but I'll repost from his 2005 Stanford Commencement speech,
"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."
Thank you, again, Mr. Jobs, for everything.
It's been said hundreds of times already this morning, but I'll repost from his 2005 Stanford Commencement speech,
"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."
Thank you, again, Mr. Jobs, for everything.
Monday 22 August 2011
Polish Change, Maybe?
Today, like every Monday, I got my manicure at one of the multitude of Chinese/ Koren/Vietnamese /etc nail shops in the city. This one is right by me on 1st Avenue with a Grand Opening banner that has been up for as long as I can remember. It isn't very crowded but it is the cheapest place around at $8.50. I find that it doesn't matter if I spend $8 or $30, a manicure always last the same amount of time on my nails, five to seven days. This is fine, because by that time, I'm bored with the color anyway. My process of the manicure is always the same. I walk in without an appointment. If I make an appointment, I always am late or early or something, so walk in is what I do. If I have to wait, I walk down the street a few feet the the nearest salon even if I have to pay 50 cents more, and get my manicure there. I can repeat this until I hit a place, which has never actually taken me more than one try. I use the washroom, pick my color, which has lightened as I age, and open my book or magazine. If the person is good, the manicure takes about 20 minutes. If not, it takes 30. I have naturally long, strong nails. I don't need anything fancy, but the nails intimidate manicurists, especially the new manicurists. After the service, I sit for 20 minutes under the hand dryers waiting for my nails to dry before I head on out with my day. If I don't, they get all smudged and smeared. Therefore, it really doesn't pay to get them done if I don't have the time to let them dry.
While waiting for my nails to dry today, I got bored. I had finished my magazine and just didn't feel like starting another one. I decided to sit there and stare out the window overlooking 1st Avenue. It is a beautiful, cool day, the first of the season. I love summer, but this day is certainly making me think of a transition to fall. The salon had the doors open a few feet away from me enabling me to enjoy the cool breeze. I decided, for no particular reason, to check out New Yorkers shoes. We are such a "fashion" centric city, so I thought, why not. Maybe I can pick up a few tips. What I can tell you is that on a Monday afternoon, on 1st Avenue, New Yorkers follow function over form. There wasn't a fashionista in the bunch. Not a heal to be found, not even a kitten heal. Most people had on the most comfortable, ugly lace up street shoes they could find. There were a few flip flops, but not even nice ones -- more like shower shoes. I then noticed the sweetest looking puppy Husky. He was already getting big, but his beautiful coat was amazing. His shoes -- feet -- were immaculately clean. But more interestingly his steel blue eyes were fixed on something, something by the door of the salon. I followed his eyes to the big black rat that just entered the salon a few feet away from my feet!
Oh my GOD! An extreme case of the willies engulfed me. I couldn't even talk. I pointed and tried to speak with words that must have sounded like a foreign language to the manicurist.
"A .. a.. a mouse … black … rat … a ... I'm done. Sorry ... done!"
As the rat crawled along the wall deeper into the salon, I grabbed my stuff and ran as the manicurist yelled apologies at me down the street. For the first time in my memory, I didn't care that I wasn't even close to hitting my 20 minutes of drying time.
For all I know, the rat just needed a polish change, but I wasn't sticking around to find out.
While waiting for my nails to dry today, I got bored. I had finished my magazine and just didn't feel like starting another one. I decided to sit there and stare out the window overlooking 1st Avenue. It is a beautiful, cool day, the first of the season. I love summer, but this day is certainly making me think of a transition to fall. The salon had the doors open a few feet away from me enabling me to enjoy the cool breeze. I decided, for no particular reason, to check out New Yorkers shoes. We are such a "fashion" centric city, so I thought, why not. Maybe I can pick up a few tips. What I can tell you is that on a Monday afternoon, on 1st Avenue, New Yorkers follow function over form. There wasn't a fashionista in the bunch. Not a heal to be found, not even a kitten heal. Most people had on the most comfortable, ugly lace up street shoes they could find. There were a few flip flops, but not even nice ones -- more like shower shoes. I then noticed the sweetest looking puppy Husky. He was already getting big, but his beautiful coat was amazing. His shoes -- feet -- were immaculately clean. But more interestingly his steel blue eyes were fixed on something, something by the door of the salon. I followed his eyes to the big black rat that just entered the salon a few feet away from my feet!
Oh my GOD! An extreme case of the willies engulfed me. I couldn't even talk. I pointed and tried to speak with words that must have sounded like a foreign language to the manicurist.
"A .. a.. a mouse … black … rat … a ... I'm done. Sorry ... done!"
As the rat crawled along the wall deeper into the salon, I grabbed my stuff and ran as the manicurist yelled apologies at me down the street. For the first time in my memory, I didn't care that I wasn't even close to hitting my 20 minutes of drying time.
For all I know, the rat just needed a polish change, but I wasn't sticking around to find out.
Tuesday 16 August 2011
Notes from "What Adults Need to Know and Do to Protect Children from Predators" workshop
Below are my notes from the CityWide Disaster Services Inc. (CDS) Emergency Preparedness Workshop, "What Adults Need to Know and Do to Protect Children from Predators" and "Emergency Two-Way Radio Workshop."
These are my notes and only my notes. I am not speaking for the CDS or the presenter. They did not handout a copy of the presentation. What I have below is from my six pages of handwritten notes. I do hope the information can help people. It is not pretty, but I do feel it is better to be informed than an Ostrich with its head in the sand.
August 12, 2011
CityWide Disaster Services Inc. (CDS) Emergency Preparedness Workshop
Friday, August 12th, 2011 from 10am until 1pm
New York Law School
featured guest speaker: Ms. Donna Christine Gueren, presenting,
"What Adults Need to Know and Do to Protect Children from Predators".
___
A predator can be from ANY walk of life.
Just because a person looks "safe" does not mean they are "safe".
Male predators who abuse boys have an average of 150 victims
Male predators who abuse girls have an average of 52
Only 3% of crimes are ever reported
(Personal Note: I have heard the stats at 1 in 4 girls have been abused and 1 in 6 boys)
90% of the time, the abusers are known to the child
Think First & Stay Safe
http://www.childluresprevention.com/
We have Built-in Sirens
She explains it as how we feel when we hear a fire or police siren. Do we get a sick feeling in our gut? Are we worried, anxious? The body has a built-in siren. If it doesn't feel right, it isn't. (Personal Note: I saw on Oprah where they said, only humans will go into a situation that isn't right. A zebra never walks through the lions.)
Teach children dignity -- we are all different. We are all priceless. There is not enough money to replace us in the world. She used the MasterCard example … value of a child, priceless.
Strangers that your child sees on a daily basis … store clerk, neighbors, doorman, newspaper person, etc. Adults know they are strangers, but kids see us saying "hi", "please", "thank you". The kids start to see them as not being strangers. We have to make sure they know these people are strangers.
People are like weather. It could be a beautiful sunny day at the beach, but storm clouds roll up. The kids don't want to get out of the water, but they can see the clouds coming. People can go from being very nice, to turning around a hurting the child or worse. If the child see the change, don't assume the person is still good (sunny). It is time to run away, as in the stormy weather.
Laws are there to protect children. If someone hurts them, or threatens them, the laws have consequences for that person.
Ten commandments say, "Thou shall not bear false witness." Kids are not to lie about someone hurting them just to get that person in trouble. They need to tell the truth.
Teach Kids "My Body Belongs to ME!" There should be no touching (by them or of them) in the bathing suit area of the body for boys and girls. They don't say "private parts", because depending on the age, the child may not know that term, or may get silly talking about it. This way, all kids know what the bathing suit area is.
No secrets if those secrets make the child feel scared or worried. Some predators/bullies will say things like "If you tell, I'll kill your family." The child doesn't want the family to be killed, so they keep their month shut. She did stress the "no secrets" isn't for everything … like a surprise birthday party. (My note: I heard once that we tell kids not to be tattle tells, but then don't understand why they don't tell us things later. Well, let them be the tattle tell if you want them to tell you things!)
+++++
Lures used by predators (Personal Note: I didn't see an order here, just a list)
- Bribery
- Money
-Toys
- Candy
- Fun and Games
- Online, Technology & Electronics
- Jobs
- Ego, Fame & Fortune
- Friendship/Affection
- Assistance
- Pets
- Authority Figures
- Emergency
- Porn
- Alcohol & Drugs
Bribery -
- Money, toys, electronics, candy, fast food
NO gift is to be kept a secret from parents, ever.
Money -
Free money comes with a price.
Big boy toys -
Remote control cars. Can be used to lure children to the "woods" or secluded part of the park.
Candy -
Jelly beans or drugs? Kids may not know the difference. Also, drugs can be colored or have sugar on them to make them taste like candy. Once a kid is drugged, the predator can do anything they like.
Fun and Games -
- NO Tickle Me Elmo type of game. The predator can use it to "tickle" the child in the bathing suit area.
- NO Twister
- NO cowboys & Indians or cops and robbers.
The child is never to play games where it is ok to be handcuffed or tided up. This is to never be done with an adult. It is also not suggested to be played by children. Many times, if a child is being abused in some way, they start to emulate the same behavior with there friends. This is never acceptable.
Technology and Electronics
- iPhones. Kids love iPhones. They can be lured with anything from letting the child play with the phone to a person asking confused with the maps and asking the child for directions. Kids love the maps and love to show how smart they are using the maps.
- Facebook
1 in 100 people are predators. If a child has 500 "friends" they most likely have 5 predators as friends. Unless the child really knows the person, they should not be FB friends. Many kids want to be popular, so the more friends they have, the more popular they think they are. She stresses that they should be much more selective, telling people that only the best get to be on their site. Examples of abuse come when a person is invited to a party, arrives, but there is no party.
- Be a safe surfer. NO personal information online. NEVER meet anyone without a parent. If two friends show up thinking it's safe, the predator just gets a 2-1 deal from it.
Jobs
A job in the paper, or online, can really just be a lure. If the child shows up for a job interview without the parent, they could be abused. Also, if a neighbor that you kind of knows, asks the child to come cat sit, pick-up mail, etc. this should certainly be watched to make sure it is safe first. The child should always tell the parent before accepting such work. (Personal note: After hearing this, I am now going to be asking all my high school babysitters to let me speak to their parents first. I want to make sure we all know it is a safe environment for everyone.)
Ego, Fame, and Fortune
In the past, ask a kid what they wanted to be when they grew up, they'd say something like doctor, lawyer, cop, but now, they say famous, rich, beautiful. (Personal Note: Sad statement on our society.) The predator can tell the child that they'll land them a modelling job, come over for the photo shoot, or the singing audition, or you get the idea. A lot of time this is not the first contact with the child.
Names on Shirts (Ego) -- a big NO NO
If the child has their name on a shirt, or even something like a baseball team, the predator can start a conversation. If they use the name, it makes the child feel as if they have to know the person, but just cannot remember. It is really all it takes for a four year old.
Friendship/Affection
We all want to be loved and accepted. If a child isn't feeling this, the predator can tell. If a person really loved or respected a child, they wouldn't be touching, asking to be touched, or looking at their bathing suit area.
Exclusion & Bullying Hurt! Predators can pick up on low self-esteem. Think of an animal predator stalking their prey. They go for the weakest link. If a child is bullied, the predator may see this at the school yard, park, where ever the kids hang out. They then can befriend that child usually over a period of time. Predators can see it and prey on it. Report Bullying to Schools. Intolerance is Intolerable.
Assistance
- Take three steps back and run away. Never ever get near a car. Adults should NOT be asking a child for directions, ever.
- If someone is lying on the floor, the child should run away to mommy or daddy (trusted adults) and report it. This is used a lot for the kids to get near, then the person can grab them.
- iPhone maps again.
- If a child tells you this has happened, CALL the police vs. saying that it's ok now.
Pets
- Newborn kittens and puppies. She said she can get an entire class of kindergarten kids to follow her anywhere with a new kitten. Some lures are "Would you like to see my kitten/puppy?", or "Would you help me find my kitten/puppy." and the person lures them away.
Authority Figures
Predators can imitate cops. If a predator sees a kid littering, the predator may say they are an undercover cop and they are arresting the child for littering. Kids get scared and believe it. ALL arrests are to be made by a uniformed officer in a MARKED car. The child should run away.
Predators sometime really are cops, or priests, or authority figures. In this case, the internal siren should go off. The child should still run and not just obey the authority figure.
Emergency
Predator will tell the child that mommy/daddy has been in an accident and that the child should come with them to the hospital. The child is now scared and afraid and follows. You should always have a code word with your child. If the child is abducted and can call you, they can use it. Also, if a person really does need to pick up your child, that person should know the code word or the child should not go with them. In this case the code word is a secret your child should keep.
Porn
Obviously works more with pre-teen/teens, and more with boys than girls. But it is certainly used. No porn should be in a child's environment, ever. It is illegal for ages 17 and under. Period.
Alcohol & Drugs
Kids may feel grown-up or cool, but they lose control over their bodies. Many cases of date rape, or other abuses.
Sober=Safe
+++++
No weapons, no exceptions.
Tell parent or teacher immediately.
No threats, No kidding.
All should be reported.
Child should always report an abuse. If the first adult doesn't believe them, then they should go to a second, third, fourth, etc. until someone listens. It is the adults responsibly to act, and report the crime.
Websites she suggested,
http://www.crime-safety-security.com/
www.childluresprevention.com (Personal Note: This is the company she works with)
CDS Emergency Two-Way Radio Workshop
This workshop was also interesting. Sure, I didn't think that I needed two-way radio training, but I did find myself presenting the material to my daughter's school that very afternoon.
The CDS System connects all the city's services … fire, police, EMS, 911. It is actually faster than 911 to report an incident. The CDS System was the only one that did not go down on 9/11. And if you think your cell phone can do this, well, just think of all your dropped calls, or when people cannot hear you.
Besides feeling that this is something that every school needs, I learned how to identify a "situations" to the dispatcher faster. For example, if you see a crime committed, and the person runs away, don't tell the dispatcher, "They were wearing a read shirt and khaki pants." You have now just described everyone who works at Target. Focus on things that do not change, such as skin color, hair color, height, weight, sex. Glasses and clothes can be changed and discarded immediately, and usually are.
Also, in scribing a car, remember that you usually are only seeing three quarters of the car. No visible damage, doesn't mean no damage. Try to remember you angle. Car make, model, color, license plate (at least color if you can't get the number.) All letter should be said as a work such as Alpha Beta for AB.
I did feel this session was worth my time. If I ever do need to call 911 or a similar service, I'll have a better idea of what to report.
These are my notes and only my notes. I am not speaking for the CDS or the presenter. They did not handout a copy of the presentation. What I have below is from my six pages of handwritten notes. I do hope the information can help people. It is not pretty, but I do feel it is better to be informed than an Ostrich with its head in the sand.
August 12, 2011
CityWide Disaster Services Inc. (CDS) Emergency Preparedness Workshop
Friday, August 12th, 2011 from 10am until 1pm
New York Law School
featured guest speaker: Ms. Donna Christine Gueren, presenting,
"What Adults Need to Know and Do to Protect Children from Predators".
___
A predator can be from ANY walk of life.
Just because a person looks "safe" does not mean they are "safe".
Male predators who abuse boys have an average of 150 victims
Male predators who abuse girls have an average of 52
Only 3% of crimes are ever reported
(Personal Note: I have heard the stats at 1 in 4 girls have been abused and 1 in 6 boys)
90% of the time, the abusers are known to the child
Think First & Stay Safe
http://www.childluresprevention.com/
We have Built-in Sirens
She explains it as how we feel when we hear a fire or police siren. Do we get a sick feeling in our gut? Are we worried, anxious? The body has a built-in siren. If it doesn't feel right, it isn't. (Personal Note: I saw on Oprah where they said, only humans will go into a situation that isn't right. A zebra never walks through the lions.)
Teach children dignity -- we are all different. We are all priceless. There is not enough money to replace us in the world. She used the MasterCard example … value of a child, priceless.
Strangers that your child sees on a daily basis … store clerk, neighbors, doorman, newspaper person, etc. Adults know they are strangers, but kids see us saying "hi", "please", "thank you". The kids start to see them as not being strangers. We have to make sure they know these people are strangers.
People are like weather. It could be a beautiful sunny day at the beach, but storm clouds roll up. The kids don't want to get out of the water, but they can see the clouds coming. People can go from being very nice, to turning around a hurting the child or worse. If the child see the change, don't assume the person is still good (sunny). It is time to run away, as in the stormy weather.
Laws are there to protect children. If someone hurts them, or threatens them, the laws have consequences for that person.
Ten commandments say, "Thou shall not bear false witness." Kids are not to lie about someone hurting them just to get that person in trouble. They need to tell the truth.
Teach Kids "My Body Belongs to ME!" There should be no touching (by them or of them) in the bathing suit area of the body for boys and girls. They don't say "private parts", because depending on the age, the child may not know that term, or may get silly talking about it. This way, all kids know what the bathing suit area is.
No secrets if those secrets make the child feel scared or worried. Some predators/bullies will say things like "If you tell, I'll kill your family." The child doesn't want the family to be killed, so they keep their month shut. She did stress the "no secrets" isn't for everything … like a surprise birthday party. (My note: I heard once that we tell kids not to be tattle tells, but then don't understand why they don't tell us things later. Well, let them be the tattle tell if you want them to tell you things!)
+++++
Lures used by predators (Personal Note: I didn't see an order here, just a list)
- Bribery
- Money
-Toys
- Candy
- Fun and Games
- Online, Technology & Electronics
- Jobs
- Ego, Fame & Fortune
- Friendship/Affection
- Assistance
- Pets
- Authority Figures
- Emergency
- Porn
- Alcohol & Drugs
Bribery -
- Money, toys, electronics, candy, fast food
NO gift is to be kept a secret from parents, ever.
Money -
Free money comes with a price.
Big boy toys -
Remote control cars. Can be used to lure children to the "woods" or secluded part of the park.
Candy -
Jelly beans or drugs? Kids may not know the difference. Also, drugs can be colored or have sugar on them to make them taste like candy. Once a kid is drugged, the predator can do anything they like.
Fun and Games -
- NO Tickle Me Elmo type of game. The predator can use it to "tickle" the child in the bathing suit area.
- NO Twister
- NO cowboys & Indians or cops and robbers.
The child is never to play games where it is ok to be handcuffed or tided up. This is to never be done with an adult. It is also not suggested to be played by children. Many times, if a child is being abused in some way, they start to emulate the same behavior with there friends. This is never acceptable.
Technology and Electronics
- iPhones. Kids love iPhones. They can be lured with anything from letting the child play with the phone to a person asking confused with the maps and asking the child for directions. Kids love the maps and love to show how smart they are using the maps.
1 in 100 people are predators. If a child has 500 "friends" they most likely have 5 predators as friends. Unless the child really knows the person, they should not be FB friends. Many kids want to be popular, so the more friends they have, the more popular they think they are. She stresses that they should be much more selective, telling people that only the best get to be on their site. Examples of abuse come when a person is invited to a party, arrives, but there is no party.
- Be a safe surfer. NO personal information online. NEVER meet anyone without a parent. If two friends show up thinking it's safe, the predator just gets a 2-1 deal from it.
Jobs
A job in the paper, or online, can really just be a lure. If the child shows up for a job interview without the parent, they could be abused. Also, if a neighbor that you kind of knows, asks the child to come cat sit, pick-up mail, etc. this should certainly be watched to make sure it is safe first. The child should always tell the parent before accepting such work. (Personal note: After hearing this, I am now going to be asking all my high school babysitters to let me speak to their parents first. I want to make sure we all know it is a safe environment for everyone.)
Ego, Fame, and Fortune
In the past, ask a kid what they wanted to be when they grew up, they'd say something like doctor, lawyer, cop, but now, they say famous, rich, beautiful. (Personal Note: Sad statement on our society.) The predator can tell the child that they'll land them a modelling job, come over for the photo shoot, or the singing audition, or you get the idea. A lot of time this is not the first contact with the child.
Names on Shirts (Ego) -- a big NO NO
If the child has their name on a shirt, or even something like a baseball team, the predator can start a conversation. If they use the name, it makes the child feel as if they have to know the person, but just cannot remember. It is really all it takes for a four year old.
Friendship/Affection
We all want to be loved and accepted. If a child isn't feeling this, the predator can tell. If a person really loved or respected a child, they wouldn't be touching, asking to be touched, or looking at their bathing suit area.
Exclusion & Bullying Hurt! Predators can pick up on low self-esteem. Think of an animal predator stalking their prey. They go for the weakest link. If a child is bullied, the predator may see this at the school yard, park, where ever the kids hang out. They then can befriend that child usually over a period of time. Predators can see it and prey on it. Report Bullying to Schools. Intolerance is Intolerable.
Assistance
- Take three steps back and run away. Never ever get near a car. Adults should NOT be asking a child for directions, ever.
- If someone is lying on the floor, the child should run away to mommy or daddy (trusted adults) and report it. This is used a lot for the kids to get near, then the person can grab them.
- iPhone maps again.
- If a child tells you this has happened, CALL the police vs. saying that it's ok now.
Pets
- Newborn kittens and puppies. She said she can get an entire class of kindergarten kids to follow her anywhere with a new kitten. Some lures are "Would you like to see my kitten/puppy?", or "Would you help me find my kitten/puppy." and the person lures them away.
Authority Figures
Predators can imitate cops. If a predator sees a kid littering, the predator may say they are an undercover cop and they are arresting the child for littering. Kids get scared and believe it. ALL arrests are to be made by a uniformed officer in a MARKED car. The child should run away.
Predators sometime really are cops, or priests, or authority figures. In this case, the internal siren should go off. The child should still run and not just obey the authority figure.
Emergency
Predator will tell the child that mommy/daddy has been in an accident and that the child should come with them to the hospital. The child is now scared and afraid and follows. You should always have a code word with your child. If the child is abducted and can call you, they can use it. Also, if a person really does need to pick up your child, that person should know the code word or the child should not go with them. In this case the code word is a secret your child should keep.
Porn
Obviously works more with pre-teen/teens, and more with boys than girls. But it is certainly used. No porn should be in a child's environment, ever. It is illegal for ages 17 and under. Period.
Alcohol & Drugs
Kids may feel grown-up or cool, but they lose control over their bodies. Many cases of date rape, or other abuses.
Sober=Safe
+++++
No weapons, no exceptions.
Tell parent or teacher immediately.
No threats, No kidding.
All should be reported.
Child should always report an abuse. If the first adult doesn't believe them, then they should go to a second, third, fourth, etc. until someone listens. It is the adults responsibly to act, and report the crime.
Websites she suggested,
http://www.crime-safety-security.com/
www.childluresprevention.com (Personal Note: This is the company she works with)
CDS Emergency Two-Way Radio Workshop
This workshop was also interesting. Sure, I didn't think that I needed two-way radio training, but I did find myself presenting the material to my daughter's school that very afternoon.
The CDS System connects all the city's services … fire, police, EMS, 911. It is actually faster than 911 to report an incident. The CDS System was the only one that did not go down on 9/11. And if you think your cell phone can do this, well, just think of all your dropped calls, or when people cannot hear you.
Besides feeling that this is something that every school needs, I learned how to identify a "situations" to the dispatcher faster. For example, if you see a crime committed, and the person runs away, don't tell the dispatcher, "They were wearing a read shirt and khaki pants." You have now just described everyone who works at Target. Focus on things that do not change, such as skin color, hair color, height, weight, sex. Glasses and clothes can be changed and discarded immediately, and usually are.
Also, in scribing a car, remember that you usually are only seeing three quarters of the car. No visible damage, doesn't mean no damage. Try to remember you angle. Car make, model, color, license plate (at least color if you can't get the number.) All letter should be said as a work such as Alpha Beta for AB.
I did feel this session was worth my time. If I ever do need to call 911 or a similar service, I'll have a better idea of what to report.
Tuesday 9 August 2011
London Riots
It is making me sick reading about it online. My old neighborhood has been vandalized. The grocery store I use to go to, the movie theater. I met many of the shop owners, who became my good friends, walking up and down those same streets, with my latte and dogs in the morning.
My friends in the nice areas of town, like Chelsea, are also on lock down ... just in case. The stores along Oxford Street are being bored up, as are the stores around the neighborhood high (main) streets.
Police advising people not to be out on the streets "unless absolutely necessary." I hope the police start advising the use of water cannons.
I could write more on "why" I think this is happening, but right now, I just want to make sure my loved ones are safe. Will post when I know something ... hopefully all positive somethings.
My friends in the nice areas of town, like Chelsea, are also on lock down ... just in case. The stores along Oxford Street are being bored up, as are the stores around the neighborhood high (main) streets.
Police advising people not to be out on the streets "unless absolutely necessary." I hope the police start advising the use of water cannons.
I could write more on "why" I think this is happening, but right now, I just want to make sure my loved ones are safe. Will post when I know something ... hopefully all positive somethings.
Monday 8 August 2011
Running and Writing
It ha been a while since I've posted anything mainly due to the fact that I've been concentrating on a piece I plan to submit for a contest. I've been working on this piece for a while now, rewriting it a number of times, reading it aloud, rewriting, etc. I used three other pieces I've written as a base for this work and added to them. I'm not thinking I'll win, but I certainly want to put my best foot forward. But hey, if I do win, that would be wonderful! It is my first step towards sending work out for publication. I've been encouraged by so many people, but that fear of failure thing hamstrings me.
Jeremy cannot understand how I have a fear of failure.
"Everything you've ever done you've been successful," he's said many times.
"Thank you, I do appreciate the encouragement."
But since he can't read my mind, he isn't aware of the things I've dreamed of doing but stopped short because of the failure clause. That doesn't mean that I didn't come back years later and kick butt in that same area. An example, when I was in junior high in the 1970's, long before the "every kid can participate on the team" mentality, I tried out for the track team. I thought I was fast, but when I got to the tryouts, I was just fat and slow in comparison. I remember those hot, late August afternoons. I would be sweating my butt off gasping hot, humid air only to be told by the coaches that I didn't even come in fast enough for them to record my time. How was I suppose to improve if I didn't even know what my time was? This was long before I knew the mantra, "You cannot improve what you cannot measure", but I knew it in my DNA. Many years later, when I was 19 years-old, I met a man in my office who was 45 years-old and running marathons. Well if someone THAT old could run a marathon, then I certainly could at 19! (Note: I am now 45 years-old and isn't old.) I went to the indoor track at my Chicago Health Club hoping to do a 5K, which is 3.1 miles. That was the shortest race I'd heard of so why not try that distance. I wore a heavy grey pair of sweat pants, a grey Illinois Institute of Technology t-shirt, and my normal beat up sneakers. I made it around the track ... once. As in most health clubs there were mirrors everywhere. My face was beat red, my legs were itching, and I was gasping for air. I felt as if I were back in junior high, but I wasn't in competition with anyone. Thankfully, there was a water fountain that I could use as an excuse for stopping. Just about that time Laurie, a woman I worked with who ran marathons -- and smoked -- came galloping by.
"Oh, I see you started running," Laurie said.
"Yes, I went once around. How many laps to a mile?" I said, hoping it was one.
"This is a small track. It is eleven times around for a mile. Got to go!" and she was off.
Eleven times! I had completed one thirty-third of what I came out to do and I was dying. Before I even left the water fountain, Laurie was back.
"You know, you can run walk, you don't have to just run. Run a lap, walk a lap. You'll get there."
She was my life saver. I walked ran until I made it a mile. My lunch over was over at that point. I had to get cleaned up and back to the office ... where Laurie was already eating her salad at her desk after five miles.
That run, with Laurie's help, and the 45 year-OLD man as inspiration, I continued. It took me forever to reach my 5K mark. I was so proud when I did. I remember boasting to people how I had ran three point one whole miles, and later finding out that these people were marathoners. I didn't run my first marathon until nine years after I started running. It was 1994, the year Forrest Gump came out. I used the quotes to keep me going. Thirty marathons later, I'm still running, and I bet most of those kids who beat me for track tryouts are not. I'm not saying it has been easy, or fun at times, but it has taken me on a journey of a lifetime. I've ran in Africa, Europe, and all over North America. I've been in great shape which has allowed me to hike ranges I could only read about as a kid. As Forrest Gump said, "It use to be I ran to get where I was going. I never thought it would take me anywhere." But as in Forrest's case, it certainly has.
By starting my blog and submitting my work, I feel like I'm back at the Chicago Health Club, trying to complete that first time. But I know from my running experience that my writing will take me on an amazing journey.
Jeremy cannot understand how I have a fear of failure.
"Everything you've ever done you've been successful," he's said many times.
"Thank you, I do appreciate the encouragement."
But since he can't read my mind, he isn't aware of the things I've dreamed of doing but stopped short because of the failure clause. That doesn't mean that I didn't come back years later and kick butt in that same area. An example, when I was in junior high in the 1970's, long before the "every kid can participate on the team" mentality, I tried out for the track team. I thought I was fast, but when I got to the tryouts, I was just fat and slow in comparison. I remember those hot, late August afternoons. I would be sweating my butt off gasping hot, humid air only to be told by the coaches that I didn't even come in fast enough for them to record my time. How was I suppose to improve if I didn't even know what my time was? This was long before I knew the mantra, "You cannot improve what you cannot measure", but I knew it in my DNA. Many years later, when I was 19 years-old, I met a man in my office who was 45 years-old and running marathons. Well if someone THAT old could run a marathon, then I certainly could at 19! (Note: I am now 45 years-old and isn't old.) I went to the indoor track at my Chicago Health Club hoping to do a 5K, which is 3.1 miles. That was the shortest race I'd heard of so why not try that distance. I wore a heavy grey pair of sweat pants, a grey Illinois Institute of Technology t-shirt, and my normal beat up sneakers. I made it around the track ... once. As in most health clubs there were mirrors everywhere. My face was beat red, my legs were itching, and I was gasping for air. I felt as if I were back in junior high, but I wasn't in competition with anyone. Thankfully, there was a water fountain that I could use as an excuse for stopping. Just about that time Laurie, a woman I worked with who ran marathons -- and smoked -- came galloping by.
"Oh, I see you started running," Laurie said.
"Yes, I went once around. How many laps to a mile?" I said, hoping it was one.
"This is a small track. It is eleven times around for a mile. Got to go!" and she was off.
Eleven times! I had completed one thirty-third of what I came out to do and I was dying. Before I even left the water fountain, Laurie was back.
"You know, you can run walk, you don't have to just run. Run a lap, walk a lap. You'll get there."
She was my life saver. I walked ran until I made it a mile. My lunch over was over at that point. I had to get cleaned up and back to the office ... where Laurie was already eating her salad at her desk after five miles.
That run, with Laurie's help, and the 45 year-OLD man as inspiration, I continued. It took me forever to reach my 5K mark. I was so proud when I did. I remember boasting to people how I had ran three point one whole miles, and later finding out that these people were marathoners. I didn't run my first marathon until nine years after I started running. It was 1994, the year Forrest Gump came out. I used the quotes to keep me going. Thirty marathons later, I'm still running, and I bet most of those kids who beat me for track tryouts are not. I'm not saying it has been easy, or fun at times, but it has taken me on a journey of a lifetime. I've ran in Africa, Europe, and all over North America. I've been in great shape which has allowed me to hike ranges I could only read about as a kid. As Forrest Gump said, "It use to be I ran to get where I was going. I never thought it would take me anywhere." But as in Forrest's case, it certainly has.
By starting my blog and submitting my work, I feel like I'm back at the Chicago Health Club, trying to complete that first time. But I know from my running experience that my writing will take me on an amazing journey.
Friday 29 July 2011
The Jerk in the Cab
I originally wrote this in the Fall of 2009 as the first writing assignment in my NYU Memoirs Class.
_________
My husband, baby daughter, and I recently traveled to my home town of Chicago. I love Chicago. I know Chicago. Everything just seems right in Chicago. I am Chicago. You need directions, just ask. Traveling by foot, car, or public transportation, I can tell you how to get there. Which streets are one way in which direction, you wonder? I can be of assistance. I can teach the bewildered cab drivers a thing or two. Forty plus years, I know the way. After spending a wonderful evening of wine tasting at the East Bank Club, our former health club, we accepted a ride home from our good friends, Perry and Denise. Like Chicago, they seem to be perfect -- the perfect couple. They've been married twenty-something seemingly argument-free years, while maintaining great careers, and raising Ivy League bound, polite teenagers. Perry even likes babies.
On our drive back to the hotel, traffic snarled up. We could clearly see that a cab had stopped right at the corner of State and Erie, preventing a CTA bus from turning. The bus blocked the intersection, which blocked traffic in all directions. People were not happy at all. The people in the cab apparently did not seem to care. They were taking their time. Didn't they realize that other people were being inconvenienced. How inconsiderate and selfish can one get? Have the cab fare ready in advance. It isn't as if they have anything else to do while being chauffeured around town. Maybe there were drunk.
"Can you believe that someone would do something like that," my husband said.
"No, because I'm not a jerk," Perry replied.
We all laughed.
"We are engineers. We just don't do things like that. We know what the fare and the tip will be, and have it ready. At most we just have to wait for change. These people should go back to the suburbs," I said.
Fast forward approximately twenty-one hours. Its' a Saturday night in New York City. My husband, daughter and I are all crammed into the back seat of an overloaded, gas-fume-saturated cab on our way home from LaGuardia Airport. We are at the tail end of our journey. Almost home ... almost. KZ, our 16-month old daughter, has been good, but she is at the end of her rope. There is only so much one can ask of a 16-month old and we are over our limit. Unfortunately, we were blessed with the only cab driver in New York City that seems to knows Brooklyn better than Manhattan.
"We live on Nassau Street, between Spruce and Beekman, right by City Hall and the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge," I instructed the cab driver at LaGaurdia.
He said he understood, and we were off.
Let me stop here to say my husband is not a patient man. If my daughter's first complete sentence does not include the phrase "cock sucking mother fucker", I will be stunned but relieved. When he is forced to be on a plane with a baby, even his own, he is more of a challenge than the baby.
I was sandwiched in the back seat between the 38 year-old, emotionally challenged husband who was watching "House" on his iPhone, and the 16-month old daughter who was rightfully at her wits end. I had been sandwiched between them since we left Chicago. I just wanted it over.
The cab driver turned his head while we were on the expressway and started asking me for directions.
"Which exit do you take? I thought I would take Tillery and go through Flatbush?"
Well, call it my own hearing problem in the back of the cab, or maybe it was just his Nigerian accent (he did have a Nigerian flag air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror), but I had to ask him to repeat himself three times before I realized that I still had no idea what he was talking about.
"Tillery? I've never heard of it. Flatbush? Why would we go through Flatbush," I asked.
My totally annoyed husband, broke away from his iPhone long enough to snap at me.
"Turn it down!"
He had opened the window because of the gas fumes. I had the Cab TV turned on just so I could follow the GPS map of where we were heading. Cab TV, the conversation, and the opened window all combined with the whimpering baby, was too much for him. Finally, after what seemed like hours, maybe five seconds, I told the driver I just didn't know Brooklyn. I'd only seen it from the Brooklyn Bridge, taken a bus tour once with my dad, and ran though it in the 2002 Marathon. That was where my knowledge ended.
"Oh, you mean the Manhattan Nassau Street! O.K., I go there."
Thank God! The driver headed off over the Brooklyn Bridge. It should have been minutes then, just minutes before I was free.
Halfway over the bridge, KZ totally lost it.
Game over. She had hit her expiration date. She had had it with being clamped into a five-point harness system. She wanted out and now. My husband loudly mumbled under his breath, while he pretended to still be watching "House" on his iPhone. Finally, we were over the bridge. Just three left turns and we would have been home. First turn, executed perfectly. Second turn, done. Third turn ... UGH! He missed the third turn and headed back over the Brooklyn Bridge instead.
"No, NO, NOOOO! Stop the cab," I yelled. "I can't take this any more!"
I was holding back my tears.
We were able to get the driver to stop at the bottom of the ramp, right before he went onto the bridge. Thankfully, there were two lanes of traffic. As the driver stopped, right next to a huge pile of garbage, the kind that an entire building deposits for it's twice weekly pickup, I noticed an MTA bus coming up right behind us -- the M103, with a driver who was laying on the horn. My husband was yelling at the top of his lungs things that I don't even want to repeat while he unloaded the trunk. My daughter was beyond consoling, as she bucked like a Linda Blair wannabe on the sidewalk, still trapped in her car seat. Italian tourists were taking pictures for their own version of the story. I can just picture them back in a beautiful stylish home, speaking in their soft voices.
"Oh Giavonne, you wouldn't believe how crude the American people are. Yelling randomly on the street and blocking traffic."
"But, Paulo, are you sure they were not drunk?"
I was trying to pry my wallet out of my pocket to pay the driver. Just get us out of here ... now ... was all I wanted. I gave the driver $32 dollars and asked for three dollars back. He just made a hissing noise. What, a $5.30 tip isn't good enough on a $26.70 ride, I though. Whatever.
We were all on the sidewalk, luggage, screaming baby, seething husband, enough trash to supply an entire NYC building, and an emotionally drained me. I felt so sick that I thought I was going to throw up right there and then. All that kept my airport lunch down was the fact that I didn't want to give the Italians more to photograph. A few of the people on the now moving bus give us sign language as they pass.
We has more luggage than I ever dreamed possible in my pre-baby days. We had to schlep all of this two blocks to our apartment.
A few hours later at home ... after my daughter was asleep and my husband was pacified watching "House" on a big screen, I counted my money to pay the Chinese food delivery person. I realized at that moment that I only gave the cab driver a 30 cent tip.
I am the jerk in the cab.
_________
My husband, baby daughter, and I recently traveled to my home town of Chicago. I love Chicago. I know Chicago. Everything just seems right in Chicago. I am Chicago. You need directions, just ask. Traveling by foot, car, or public transportation, I can tell you how to get there. Which streets are one way in which direction, you wonder? I can be of assistance. I can teach the bewildered cab drivers a thing or two. Forty plus years, I know the way. After spending a wonderful evening of wine tasting at the East Bank Club, our former health club, we accepted a ride home from our good friends, Perry and Denise. Like Chicago, they seem to be perfect -- the perfect couple. They've been married twenty-something seemingly argument-free years, while maintaining great careers, and raising Ivy League bound, polite teenagers. Perry even likes babies.
On our drive back to the hotel, traffic snarled up. We could clearly see that a cab had stopped right at the corner of State and Erie, preventing a CTA bus from turning. The bus blocked the intersection, which blocked traffic in all directions. People were not happy at all. The people in the cab apparently did not seem to care. They were taking their time. Didn't they realize that other people were being inconvenienced. How inconsiderate and selfish can one get? Have the cab fare ready in advance. It isn't as if they have anything else to do while being chauffeured around town. Maybe there were drunk.
"Can you believe that someone would do something like that," my husband said.
"No, because I'm not a jerk," Perry replied.
We all laughed.
"We are engineers. We just don't do things like that. We know what the fare and the tip will be, and have it ready. At most we just have to wait for change. These people should go back to the suburbs," I said.
Fast forward approximately twenty-one hours. Its' a Saturday night in New York City. My husband, daughter and I are all crammed into the back seat of an overloaded, gas-fume-saturated cab on our way home from LaGuardia Airport. We are at the tail end of our journey. Almost home ... almost. KZ, our 16-month old daughter, has been good, but she is at the end of her rope. There is only so much one can ask of a 16-month old and we are over our limit. Unfortunately, we were blessed with the only cab driver in New York City that seems to knows Brooklyn better than Manhattan.
"We live on Nassau Street, between Spruce and Beekman, right by City Hall and the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge," I instructed the cab driver at LaGaurdia.
He said he understood, and we were off.
Let me stop here to say my husband is not a patient man. If my daughter's first complete sentence does not include the phrase "cock sucking mother fucker", I will be stunned but relieved. When he is forced to be on a plane with a baby, even his own, he is more of a challenge than the baby.
I was sandwiched in the back seat between the 38 year-old, emotionally challenged husband who was watching "House" on his iPhone, and the 16-month old daughter who was rightfully at her wits end. I had been sandwiched between them since we left Chicago. I just wanted it over.
The cab driver turned his head while we were on the expressway and started asking me for directions.
"Which exit do you take? I thought I would take Tillery and go through Flatbush?"
Well, call it my own hearing problem in the back of the cab, or maybe it was just his Nigerian accent (he did have a Nigerian flag air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror), but I had to ask him to repeat himself three times before I realized that I still had no idea what he was talking about.
"Tillery? I've never heard of it. Flatbush? Why would we go through Flatbush," I asked.
My totally annoyed husband, broke away from his iPhone long enough to snap at me.
"Turn it down!"
He had opened the window because of the gas fumes. I had the Cab TV turned on just so I could follow the GPS map of where we were heading. Cab TV, the conversation, and the opened window all combined with the whimpering baby, was too much for him. Finally, after what seemed like hours, maybe five seconds, I told the driver I just didn't know Brooklyn. I'd only seen it from the Brooklyn Bridge, taken a bus tour once with my dad, and ran though it in the 2002 Marathon. That was where my knowledge ended.
"Oh, you mean the Manhattan Nassau Street! O.K., I go there."
Thank God! The driver headed off over the Brooklyn Bridge. It should have been minutes then, just minutes before I was free.
Halfway over the bridge, KZ totally lost it.
Game over. She had hit her expiration date. She had had it with being clamped into a five-point harness system. She wanted out and now. My husband loudly mumbled under his breath, while he pretended to still be watching "House" on his iPhone. Finally, we were over the bridge. Just three left turns and we would have been home. First turn, executed perfectly. Second turn, done. Third turn ... UGH! He missed the third turn and headed back over the Brooklyn Bridge instead.
"No, NO, NOOOO! Stop the cab," I yelled. "I can't take this any more!"
I was holding back my tears.
We were able to get the driver to stop at the bottom of the ramp, right before he went onto the bridge. Thankfully, there were two lanes of traffic. As the driver stopped, right next to a huge pile of garbage, the kind that an entire building deposits for it's twice weekly pickup, I noticed an MTA bus coming up right behind us -- the M103, with a driver who was laying on the horn. My husband was yelling at the top of his lungs things that I don't even want to repeat while he unloaded the trunk. My daughter was beyond consoling, as she bucked like a Linda Blair wannabe on the sidewalk, still trapped in her car seat. Italian tourists were taking pictures for their own version of the story. I can just picture them back in a beautiful stylish home, speaking in their soft voices.
"Oh Giavonne, you wouldn't believe how crude the American people are. Yelling randomly on the street and blocking traffic."
"But, Paulo, are you sure they were not drunk?"
I was trying to pry my wallet out of my pocket to pay the driver. Just get us out of here ... now ... was all I wanted. I gave the driver $32 dollars and asked for three dollars back. He just made a hissing noise. What, a $5.30 tip isn't good enough on a $26.70 ride, I though. Whatever.
We were all on the sidewalk, luggage, screaming baby, seething husband, enough trash to supply an entire NYC building, and an emotionally drained me. I felt so sick that I thought I was going to throw up right there and then. All that kept my airport lunch down was the fact that I didn't want to give the Italians more to photograph. A few of the people on the now moving bus give us sign language as they pass.
We has more luggage than I ever dreamed possible in my pre-baby days. We had to schlep all of this two blocks to our apartment.
A few hours later at home ... after my daughter was asleep and my husband was pacified watching "House" on a big screen, I counted my money to pay the Chinese food delivery person. I realized at that moment that I only gave the cab driver a 30 cent tip.
I am the jerk in the cab.
Sunday 24 July 2011
My Best Friend
Originally written on 04/19/11.
_____________
When I was a little girl, I had a best friend who would go everywhere with me. We were inseparable. We did everything together from doing our hair to traveling cross country in her camper van.
"Tammy, let's to go to the Grand Canyon."
"OK," I said.
We packed our bags, loaded the camper van with plenty of food, and headed off down the road. We would stop and see all the sites along the way or just drive without worrying about a map. We traveled to Cheyenne to see the rodeo, to Colorado to experience skiing in the Rockies, then on to Vegas were we didn't stay long. There wasn't much to do in the 70's for little girls in Vegas. Our favorite places to go were Disneyland in California and Disney World in Florida. The camper van went there most often.
Later, my friend got a plane. This opened up the world to us.
"Tammy, let's go to Paris."
"Paris, I've always wanted to go to Paris," I said
We would fly into Paris, where I could finally see the Eiffel Tower and stand on the very same steps my father did in the '50s. I had a picture of him there, and always wanted to take the same picture of myself.
"Let's go to Germany and England," I said.
Off we went. These were also places that my father had been to while he was in the army. I wanted to see everything he had. Maybe it would give us something to talk about.
When at home, my friend had a great townhouse. It had three levels and an elevator. We would play for hours without end -- running through each room.
Every four years, we would watch the Olympics together. Then, we would work on our routines for when we were in the Olympics. For the Summer Games, we practiced gymnastics and swimming. For the Winter Games, we practiced ice skating and down hill skiing. She was always very good at everything, but very supportive of my efforts. She always encouraged me to do my best no matter what.
My friend could do anything. One day she was a vet, another day a lawyer. When we flew in her plane, she was the pilot. When we drove across country, she was the driver. There was no a career path she couldn't do.
Her townhouse and camper van were a safe place for me. No one yelled at me there to be quiet because they were hung over, or to clean up my toys because they tripped when they were drunk. No one told me I would be pretty if I only had pretty hair. My friend loved me, encouraged me, and helped me dream of the big, wonderful world that I would soon be able to explore.
Thank you my best friend, Barbie.
_____________
When I was a little girl, I had a best friend who would go everywhere with me. We were inseparable. We did everything together from doing our hair to traveling cross country in her camper van.
"Tammy, let's to go to the Grand Canyon."
"OK," I said.
We packed our bags, loaded the camper van with plenty of food, and headed off down the road. We would stop and see all the sites along the way or just drive without worrying about a map. We traveled to Cheyenne to see the rodeo, to Colorado to experience skiing in the Rockies, then on to Vegas were we didn't stay long. There wasn't much to do in the 70's for little girls in Vegas. Our favorite places to go were Disneyland in California and Disney World in Florida. The camper van went there most often.
Later, my friend got a plane. This opened up the world to us.
"Tammy, let's go to Paris."
"Paris, I've always wanted to go to Paris," I said
We would fly into Paris, where I could finally see the Eiffel Tower and stand on the very same steps my father did in the '50s. I had a picture of him there, and always wanted to take the same picture of myself.
"Let's go to Germany and England," I said.
Off we went. These were also places that my father had been to while he was in the army. I wanted to see everything he had. Maybe it would give us something to talk about.
When at home, my friend had a great townhouse. It had three levels and an elevator. We would play for hours without end -- running through each room.
Every four years, we would watch the Olympics together. Then, we would work on our routines for when we were in the Olympics. For the Summer Games, we practiced gymnastics and swimming. For the Winter Games, we practiced ice skating and down hill skiing. She was always very good at everything, but very supportive of my efforts. She always encouraged me to do my best no matter what.
My friend could do anything. One day she was a vet, another day a lawyer. When we flew in her plane, she was the pilot. When we drove across country, she was the driver. There was no a career path she couldn't do.
Her townhouse and camper van were a safe place for me. No one yelled at me there to be quiet because they were hung over, or to clean up my toys because they tripped when they were drunk. No one told me I would be pretty if I only had pretty hair. My friend loved me, encouraged me, and helped me dream of the big, wonderful world that I would soon be able to explore.
Thank you my best friend, Barbie.
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