Brilliant … But Bouncy

The Zax Never Did Budge.

I was driving through a crowded parking lot when I was forced to stop. There was a driverless car in front of me, with the driver-side door open, blocking my path.

I had to wait for the driver to return to his/her car if I wanted to move forward. I wasn’t in a terrific hurry and, since the door was open, I assumed it wouldn’t be more than a couple of minutes.

I had enough time to consider my options, and probably too much time to think and get increasingly frustrated. But a few minutes later, a woman got into the driver’s seat, closed her door … and just sat there.

Next to the car was an area where she could have pulled over to the side, and I could have moved forward. But she didn’t move.

And behind my car was an area where I could have backed up and gotten out of her way. But I didn’t move.

I was reminded very distinctly of my favorite Dr. Seuss story: The Zax. In the story, two Zax are traveling by foot when they run smack into each other. Neither one will step to the side so that the other may pass.

And while I knew that the Zax never did budge, I also knew one of us was going to budge.

Normally, I would move. In fact, I would have backed up and gotten out of the woman’s way if only I hadn’t been so upset by the fact that the car was left right in the middle of the lot so that no other cars could pass. I felt like I needed to make a point, and that I should wait for her to move first.

At the same time, I realized that for my entire life, I’ve been moving out of other people’s way. I’ve spent so much time saying, “excuse me” and “I’m sorry” while stepping aside that I think my quota of apologies is entirely used up. So when I realized that this car was in my way, for a change I decided to stand my ground.

After about a minute of not moving, the woman got out of her car and walked over to my car.

“Is there a space you could pull into, so that I could get by?” she said – in the sweetest and kindest possible way. She was nearly apologizing for asking me to move, even though I was the one who had been waiting for her.

“You want me to move,” I growled, already throwing my car into reverse. “Or you could have moved so that I could have gotten through!”

I could see from her astonishment that this possibility had never crossed her simple mind. “But I need to go this way!” she said, still trying to be sweet. But I was already backing up, getting out of her way, and I wasn’t going to argue about whose “way” was most important.

I thought about my kids. What would I have done if they’d been in the car? Would I have showed them that it’s important to stand up for oneself? Or would I have backed up as soon as she got into her car, so that we could all go back to things that actually matter?

I honestly don’t know if I would have changed anything at all.

But I do have a new clarity, now, on why the Zax never moved a single inch.

I Will Have Two Choices.

Well. The kids are at camp. Now what?

I have nothing to do. I have nothing to think about. I can start planning our next vacation, I suppose, since – for now – the kids will be coming home soon.

Instead, I am thinking about the future. I am thinking about how bored I am going to be. I am thinking that I will have to physically restrain myself from texting one or both of them – at least for the first five years.I am thinking that I will not have anything interesting in my life, ever again, until grandchildren come. And then I will be fighting with the mother of the poor child because it’s bad enough that I don’t see my own son, but now my grandchild, too!

I have already frequented little league games where I don’t know a single child on either team. What’s to keep me from becoming a foster mom or, heaven forbid, adopting another child? I mean, well – what’s to stop me other than my husband?

And my husband – holy moly. What the heck am I supposed to do with him for the next 30 years or so? What will we talk about if the kids aren’t around? How will we ever plan anything? What will there be to coordinate? We certainly aren’t going to hold deep, meaningful conversations as we watch the sun set. He never sits down long enough for that. Plus, our yard is laced with mosquitoes.

The way I see it, when both kids are gone – in four, already-way-too-short years – I will have two choices.

1. I will adopt dogs. I will adopt so many dogs, there will never be a dull moment in the house. I will rescue them from shelters and rescues and treat them as well (if not better) than I ever treated my kids.
2. I will teach. I will teach one-on-one, at homes, and I will tutor and I will be the busiest doggone substitute teacher this county has ever had. I will teach five days a week, 260 days a year. I will make sure those students know that someone, even if it’s only a lowly substitute, cares about them.

I only see one problem with both of those solutions to what will be ailing me in five years:

The dogs and the students … won’t ever be my children.

He Didn’t Care How Tough I Was.

In my youth, my dream was to work on Sesame Street, which is filmed in New York City. Unfortunately, I didn’t want to live in New York City.

But I did live in Pittsburgh, where Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood was filmed.

I lived in Pittsburgh as a preschooler, in the very first years of Mister Rogers. My mom said that I was watching it once, and Mister Rogers was talking about how kids can’t get flushed down the toilet. It seemed to her like a pretty ridiculous concept.

“Are you worried about that, Kirsten?” she asked me. And I turned to her, very seriously, and nodded.

If I remember correctly, I was terrified of being flushed down that toilet. I can remember, too, thinking that I’d be sucked down the drain with the bathtub water.

Children have minds that are open to spectacular concepts – both good and bad. I honestly believed that anything was possible. I watched Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie and often tried – desperately – to create that kind of magic in my own life.

After watching Mr. Ed, I believed that animals could talk – and spent years trying to get them to talk to me.

Later, when I watched Fonzie on Happy Days, I was sure I could get change to fall out of vending machines if I just hit the machine the right way.

I believed that my stuffed animals came alive at night, and danced and played. I’m still not sure it’s not true. I may be old now, but sometimes I still believe in magic.

When I was a teenager, I became jaded. I didn’t do well in school. I had to take a summer school class at a school in downtown Pittsburgh, next door to the WQED studios, where Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood filmed.

After summer school one day, I was sitting on a stone wall, waiting for my ride, when I saw a familiar face – a man wearing a cardigan sweater – driving out of the studio lot. He saw me sitting on the wall – my hardened teenage self – and without so much as a flinch, broke into a wide smile and waved at me.

Mister Rogers waved at me. I meekly, and quickly, waved back. I probably didn’t smile.

And as my preschool self ran smack into my teenage self, I started to cry, right there on that wall, because all of my teenage angst had been suddenly comforted by an old friend from my preschool days – the same man who told me it was safe to sit on a toilet, and take a bath.

Mister Rogers smiled at me. He didn’t care how tough I was.

Ten years later, with a degree in Communications and another degree in Early Childhood Education, I went back to WQED to see if, maybe, Mister Rogers Neighborhood needed an intern. I would have worked there unpaid.

That’s the day I officially met Mister Rogers in person – a man I could never simply call “Fred” because of my undying respect for him. My stomach flipped and I could barely speak.

But like my parents taught me, I shook his hand. I said, “Nice to meet you.”

He said, “It’s so nice to meet you.”

My interview was with a producer, and he didn’t need an intern – even someone who worked for free. But it was a day I will never forget, like that day on the wall outside of the studio.

I cried when he died. I cried when writing this. And I cried at the new movie, Won’t You Be My Neighbor? 

I loved him.

I Created This List.

The kids are “bored” already, and couldn’t think of “anything” to do except to watch YouTube videos on their phones. Shane asked me for a list of possibilities, so that he could have ideas readily available the next time he is “bored.”

Indoor ideas:

READ

do summer homework

jigsaw puzzle

fingerpainting

write a book

write a poem

write a song

write a short story

write a play

READ

do a puppet show

do an exercise video

create a walking stick

juggle

run your drone camera

take nature photos

take indoor photos

learn a language

break a world record

start a collection

sort one of your collections

sort/organize stuff

play the zither

play the steel drum

play the electronic drum kit

practice your song for marching band

learn to play a new board game

play solitaire with real cards

play cards

walk the dog

walk just for yourself

create art (pipe cleaners, collage, coloring)

get a pen pal and write letters

READ

Play:

catch (baseball, football, any ball)

kickball

racquetball

tennis

badminton

basketball

Other Outdoor Ideas:

bike ride

trampoline

hose/sprinkler

climb a tree

make mud pies

go to the playground

skateboard/skate park

wade in a stream

Other Places to Go:

nature parks

hiking paths

roller skating

ice skating

rec center (ping pong, pool, basketball)

museum

library

swimming pool

Six Flags

craft store

mall

out for lunch

out for dessert

I created this list in about ten minutes, but I thought it might be helpful for other parents. Coincidentally, these are mostly things I did as a child, long before YouTube was invented.

We Switched Orthodontists.

We spent our week visiting dentists and orthodontists. Dylan had his first cavity filled this week. He went in with pain, and they discovered the cavity – but the dentist said the pain was probably caused by his wisdom teeth coming in sideways.

We switched orthodontists between children. I lost all respect for Dylan’s orthodontist. And thanks to Shane’s orthodontist, we are learning a tremendous amount about what should have happened after Dylan’s braces came off – two years ago.

For example, Dylan’s orthodontist told Dylan three times that he was going to be getting his braces off within three months. I was sitting there, listening, so I know what was said. And then – three times! – at our next appointment, Dylan said, “Am I getting them off in a few months?” and the orthodontist said, “Oh no, I never would have said that.”

But he did say that.

Dylan wore his braces for a full two years, and that was fine. But why tell him a year prior that he’s going to get them off early?

Dylan’s orthodontist did other things, too, that just made me think he wasn’t really thinking clearly.

So finding Shane’s orthodontist, who is a ray of sunshine in the orthodonture world, was a miracle for us. As a result, as we’ve gone through braces with Shane, we are learning things we only wished we had learned earlier.

For example, with regard to retainers, there was a huge difference in treatment decisions.

Dylan’s orthodontist glued a metal wire behind Dylan’s bottom teeth and said, “Leave it there as long as you can.”

Shane’s orthodontist, while talking to another patient, espoused the horrors of leave-in retainers. “I have seen so many adults come in with serious problems because they had one of those retainers,” she said. “And only four teeth are kept in line anyway.”

We had Dylan’s leave-in retainer taken out immediately, but it was too late. At least one of Dylan’s bottom teeth had already moved out of alignment.

With regard to wisdom teeth, Shane’s orthodontist recommended that we schedule a consultation with an oral surgeon six months after braces, to check on the status of Shane’s wisdom teeth.

What about Dylan? I thought. Dylan’s orthodontist said only, “Dylan will probably have to have his wisdom teeth out someday.” He didn’t tell us when or how to learn more.

So Dylan is about two years late for his first oral surgeon consult. Fortunately, ADHD has a developmental component: Dylan’s teeth came in later than most kids’ teeth, so he’s not as far behind as he could have been.

The oral surgeon requested an x-ray from Dylan’s orthodontist, so we finally got one. Two years late.

“Oh yeah,” Dylan’s orthodontist said. “Get them out as soon as possible.”

Shane, however, is prepared. We have an oral surgeon lined up, and an appointment time selected for his first consult. Plus, Shane’s orthodontist already took the x-ray which will be forwarded to the surgeon at my request.

Speaking of which, we asked Dylan’s orthodontist to send a copy of his new x-ray to the dentist before Dylan got his cavity filled. Dylan’s orthodontist had two days to send it, but it wasn’t done when we got there.

I called the office and got a cryptic, “We’ll try to email it over.”

Mere moments later, the dentist asked for a copy of Shane’s latest x-ray, so I called Shane’s orthodontist.

“It will be there in ten minutes,” she said.

And it was.

I Don’t Want Bill to Do Anything!

One day I plunked some popcorn into the microwave and pushed the start button – but nothing happened.

The microwave had been acting up for awhile – stopping midway through heating, for example. So I texted Bill, and asked if I should buy another one.

“Okay,” he said. Bill was visiting the tax guy and he had just had a root canal, so he didn’t much care about appliances right then.

I got online and started researching. Based almost exclusively on reviews, I finally settled on a model that was much like our old one, but with new buttons.

It was in stock at a nearby store, so I ordered it, then waited for the necessary email:

Your item is ready for pick-up!

I wanted to do what I could to make Bill’s day easier. Normally I let him do everything: cooking, cleaning, fixing stuff. And when it comes to appliances – well, I am a dunce.

But for this one day, I didn’t want Bill to lift a finger.

“He has to deal with taxes and he had a root canal today,” I told Shane, begging him to go to the store with me and help me lift the thing.

Forty-five minutes later, Shane and I were in line behind a woman who, oddly, was picking up four ceiling fans.

When it was our turn, we had to measure the bottom of the microwave to be sure it would fit in its designated kitchen space. Otherwise, it would fall off its shelf. We opened up the box, took out the microwave, turned it over and checked to be sure that, of the 19.75 inches of advertised depth, all four “feet” of the microwave fit into 16 inches or less.

Conveniently, the “feet” section measured exactly 16 inches. So Shane and I put the microwave back in the box, hauled it outside, loaded it into the car, took it home, caught fireflies for a few minutes, and then lugged the box inside. We unveiled the microwave again, plugged it in, pushed it into its new home and inserted the rotating tray.

“Let’s try it out!” I said, putting in a mug filled halfway with water. “We’ll boil some water!”

“With a microwave?” Shane said.

“Sure!”

“It doesn’t look like it’s on,” Shane said.

Sure enough, the microwave was pitch black – no clocks, no lights, no timer.

Bill was going to be home any minute. I frantically read the instructions while Shane looked all over the new microwave for a power switch. I checked the internet to see if there was a hidden power switch.

Nothing.

“Now we have to ask Dad,” Shane said.

“NO,” I said. “I don’t want Bill to do anything!”

But obviously we had a defunct microwave. So we put it all back in the box.

Again.

“Get the tray!” I shrieked at Shane, who grabbed the rotating plate just before the microwave fell into the box.

Then I called the store to see if they would deliver a new one to me, since I had already driven 45 minutes to pick up the first one. I was still pleading with the manager when Bill walked in, and Shane explained what was going on.

Without a word, Bill got a lamp and tested the electrical outlets. He checked the circuit breaker downstairs. Then he tested the lamp again.

Bill then unboxed and set up the new microwave. It suddenly worked just fine – except that it was dripping water.

Bill opened the microwave door and there, unscathed except for a lost tablespoon of water, sat my mug, waiting for a chance to boil.

He Also Got the Presidential Gold Award.

Stolen from my weekly update to my family… but still quite relevant. It’s just me bragging about his awards, so no need to read it if you already know how proud I am.

I cannot ignore that Shane graduated from the 8th grade. His promotion ceremony was absolutely glorious for me, because they kept calling his name for awards!

Shane got the Honor Roll award, for being on honor roll every semester during middle school. That alone is sufficient. He also got an award for participating in student court (just lucky). AND he got an award for earning ALL of his Social Service Learning (volunteer) hours for high school graduation before the completion of 7th grade. (Yes, 7th.)

Shane also got the Scholastic Achievement Award in Physical Education, which literally made me cry. It sounds like “just a P.E. award” – but it’s not. Each subject had a handful of kids recognized, and we all kinda expected him to be recognized for his consistent 100% grades (at the end of many quarters) in English. Only three people in the whole grade got recognized for their P.E. efforts – and Shane really deserved it. He was very serious about his physical education efforts, always ran (fast) when doing the mile, and always did well with new sports. So I just couldn’t be any prouder of that ol’ P.E. award!

But then he also got the Presidential Gold Award for Academic Excellence. This is the award for the really great grades – a GPA of 3.5 or above every quarter for his entire middle school career. I couldn’t believe it when they called Shane.

I guess I should have known about all of that before graduation, but quite honestly – I had no clue. I knew Shane did well in school, but I didn’t realize how well until I saw the smattering of people who stood up as often as he did. (Most of that smattering are his closest friends.)

Okay – so this “brief” mention of his middle school successes might be overboard. But if you can’t brag to family, who can you brag to? Shane gets so little recognition. I am thrilled that, on this day, he was recognized.

And this from a child whose vision processing disorder once made him incapable of reading a full sentence. It’s a miracle.

Did You Finish the Lab?

Remnants from the last weeks of school…. And this is just from science class.

Dear Teacher,

This is Dylan. I cannot find the labs online, so I will come in to get physical copies of it during class on Monday. I will stay after school with you to complete them, and then turn them in before I leave. Please let me know if this is not possible, if so we can arrange accordingly.

Dylan

Dylan,

Okay, thanks!

Teacher

Mom,

The teacher has a meeting after school. I will do the labs when she comes back from her meeting.

Dylan

Dylan,

I am at work. Do you need someone to pick you up?

Mom

Mom,

No, it’s only for like an hour. I’ll just hang out with my friends until her meeting is over.

Dylan

Dear Teacher,

Did Dylan ever turn in his labs and his study guide? I got a note from you that the study guide was in, but there is still no grade online. Thanks again!

Dylan’s mom

Dylan’s mom,

​​He finished his labs. I do not recall him turning in the study guide. I gave him an extra copy just in case. I have checked all of my material so I asked him to check his bag. Dylan is almost done with his science lab – he needs to label different minutiae on all ten parts to turn it in for full credit. I sent it home with him to finish.

Teacher

Dylan,

Did you finish your lab? Your teacher said she sent it home with you.

Mom

Mom,

I didn’t get it. I’ll go in early tomorrow to do it.

Dylan

Dylan,

Did you finish the lab this morning?

Mom

Mom,

The teacher wasn’t there. I’ll finish it after school.

Dylan

Dear Teacher,

Please tell me Dylan is done with everything for this year! He always thinks he’s caught up, but I never know. 🙂 Thank you!

Dylan’s mom

Dylan’s mom,

Just a heads up: the due date for the final project was today at the end of the school day, Dylan has not turned his in yet and there are only 20 minutes left in the school day. As long as he turns in the assignment, he should earn a B for the quarter.

Teacher

DYLAN,

WHERE ARE YOU?!? GET OFF THE BUS! GO BACK INTO THE SCHOOL AND FINISH YOUR SCIENCE PROJECT! IT WAS DUE BEFORE THE END OF THE DAY! YOU HAVE TO FINISH IT RIGHT NOW!

MOM

Mom,

I got off the bus. I am going back in now.

Dylan

Dear Dylan’s mom,

He turned it in, it looks amazing. 🙂 He got an A on it. 30/30!

Teacher

Dylan,

You got 100% on your project! Congratulations!

Mom

Mom,

Cool. Can I hang out with my friends?

Dylan

My Baby Will No Longer Be a Baby.

For the past few weeks, Shane has been reveling in the pleasures of being at the end of 8th grade. For two years, he’s watched the other 8th graders having privileges and fun activities that the 6th and 7th graders didn’t have.

Finally, this year, it was Shane’s turn.

First, he went to the 8th grade dance. “It was just like all the other dances,” he told me. “But without all the little kids running around.”

Then he went to King’s Dominion, an enormous amusement park, on a field trip exclusive to the 8th graders. Given Shane’s obsession with roller coasters and thrill rides, this was the event he’s most anticipated.

Unfortunately, it rained all day and his thrill-seeking friends ran off without him. “We got a few decent rides in,” he said. “The rain hit our face as we rode and a bunch of people didn’t want to do anything,” he said. “It was pretty fun, though.”

Two days ago, they had the last Morning Show of the year at school, run exclusively by 8th graders. Since Shane has been working on the Morning Show every day since the first week of 6th grade, he was quite excited about this.

“It was the best show ever!” Shane said. He told me about the anchors and their fantastic rapport. He told me about the music he played – every song, and why it was chosen. He told me about the jokes that were aired, and the one that he wrote that was – literally – very, very funny. Shane went on and on, more excited than I’ve seen him in ages.

I was so excited to see him so excited. He poured his heart into that show, day after day. Being director was tough for him, because he didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. But he stepped up and got the job done. So to have the final show be so successful mattered a great deal.

Today is Shane’s promotional ceremony – the 8th grade “graduation.” He will be marching across the stage in his sporty-yet-casual business attire, and he will likely earn some awards. Shane has had A’s and B’s throughout his entire middle school career, and he’s completed all of the social service learning hours required for high school graduation. Even his college transcript will start with a 3.75 GPA.

So he will definitely get some awards. I am so very proud of him!

And while I am so, so, so sure I will cry at the ceremony, because my baby will no longer be a baby, I know one thing for sure: I am thrilled that Shane is done with middle school.

Middle school can be heartless and cruel. It’s a time of self-discovery and friendship, sure, but most kids don’t have a clue about either of those things. Shane has somehow escaped intact, relatively unscathed, and is ready for high school for all the right reasons.

And I am ready for him to move forward, move up to the next level, and start developing his passions. Sad though I will be about the end of an era, it is also the beginning of a new one.

That’s the thought to which I will cling when I start to cry. And maybe I will think about that awesome Morning Show.

Good memories are good enough.