4th Time’s The Charm.

I mentioned a while back that our 6 month old Samsung Smart TV decided that working wasn’t on its list of things to do anymore. We has perfect sound, but no picture.

So, while I was at work, hopped on the online chat support for Samsung (ALWAYS use chat support if its available.) The support representative put me through some troubleshooting steps, which I relayed across the interwebz to my wife at home. When none of these steps worked, the online chat guy referred me to another web site where I could create a service ticket.

I go to the site and for the second time, inform Samsung of the issue we’re having. I submit the ticket….and wait.

A few days later, a phone call comes from Samsung. I return the call, and rather than send someone to fix it, the tech on the phone has me explain the problem AGAIN, and go through the troubleshooting steps AGAIN. Since I not only work in technical support for a living, but had already done this stuff, I laid on the floor of the living room staring at the ceiling, pretending to go through all the nonsense he was telling me to do.

At the end, satisfied that the damn thing is really broken, he became helpful and set up a service appointment. Er. No. Wait. He didn’t.

He told me to expect a phone call from a service center which would set up an appointment.

Last friday, my wife takes a call from Samsung to set up a time to set up an appointment. (Literally, that) They said someone would call us Tuesday of this week to set something up, since they were busy and Monday was a holiday.

Tuesday comes and goes. Wednesday comes and goes. Thursday, (yesterday) I got a voicemail from Samsung with a reference number. I planned to call them back this morning.

Before I did today, I checked my email and there’s a message from them. “Your service ticket has been cancelled.” Consumed with an ire whose heat rivaled molten lead, I called them again to find out exactly how they managed to magically fix my TV without ever coming to the house.

I would like to apologize to the poor phone guy who I got this morning, as I was a smidgen less than cordial to him…especially after he asked me to describe the problem with the TV….AGAIN. I informed him this was the fourth time I’d been through this, and the problem hadn’t changed. I may have also been searching Google for a way to summon a being from the underworld to consume everything Samsung in the entire galaxy. (Get it?)

Cyberdemon. PERFECT.

“Okay, expect a call from the dispatch center by Monday.”

So, here we are. Waiting. Again.

I know nothing.

I’ve Got 99 Problems, and Most of Them are Relatives.

A long while back there was a falling-out between members of my father’s family. Heated words were exchanged, and as a result, I’ve gone nearly four years without speaking to two of my aunts. One of them vanished, which makes things easier. The other is a control freak who cannot let things die.

When I left my job a few weeks back, I didn’t tell very many people. Including my in-laws. My father in law has been a massive help to me over the last few years and it was embarrassing to tell him. My mother in law is a busy body and giving her even the smallest crumb of sensitive information results in chafing and aggravation the likes of which can only be compared to the grain of sand that irritates the inside of an oyster. Only, instead of a pearl resulting, its a headache.

Well, flash forward to this afternoon, my estranged aunt is visiting local family….who tell her I’m not working any more.

Rather than laugh maniacally like she usually does at the concept of other’s misfortunes, she wants info. So what does she do? Dusts off her contacts in facebook and messages my mother in law, effectively blowing the lid off of an uncomfortable situation before I was ready.

Two things bother me about this situation that have turned me into a major ball of stress and anger Thu afternoon.
1. What business is it of my aunt’s?  After four years of animosity and virtually no contact, what the hell does she care?
2. I’ve made it abundantly clear to my mother in law that my family does not communicate with this woman any more. Yes she’s still all over Facebook with her, not being smart enough to realize that she’s being used as a source of insider information, and nothing more. She is a tool my aunt is using to keep tabs on those of us who are trying like hell to cut her out of our lives.

None of this is anyone’s business (he said, to a group of internet strangers.) Neither of these two women have any actual interest in my well being or have anything to offer. Yet the line “I wanted to make sure he’s alright” has been bandied about a few times this afternoon.

I got off of facebook to avoid this sort of bullshit, but it seems that even now I’m not safe. There is no privacy.

Am I wrong to be annoyed? Is it my own fault for hiding this for as long as I have? Maybe. I don’t know. All I do know is that this afternoon’s little circus has added to what is a rapidly growing batch of anxiety and who knows what else.

I’m not sleeping at night. I’m eating garbage. I rarely exercise anymore. I run between jobs like a hyper lab rat chasing….I dont even know what.

They always said you can count on your family when times are tough. What they didn’t tell me is that you can count on them to throw gas on the fire, scorpions in your shorts, and laugh while you twist and dance about. 

Sorry to be so down and out, but its been a rough few weeks for AD. Things will improve, I’m sure. They have to. The best part about hitting the bottom is that there’s nothing else to do but bounce back. Stick around for the bouncing.

Answer Not Valid. Try Again.

Mini-Me has developed a habit that could drive someone about  to be canonized straight into the arms of excommunication.

He’ll ask a question, and if he doesn’t like the answer, he’ll ask it again….and again. And again, as if repeating the question will change the reality of the situation to something more favorable.

“Daddy? are those my socks?”
“No, those are pants.”
“Are those my socks?”
“No.”
“Are those my socks?”
“No.”
“Are those my socks?”

“Can we go to another store?”
“No, we’re going home now.”
“Can we go to another store?”
“No.”
“Can we go to another store?”
“No, what did I just say?”
“I don’t know. Can we go to another store?”

If you don’t yell at him to stop, it can continue for hours. There is no reasoning with a two and a half year old child, and you cannot ignore them, for their willpower for inane undertakings is far stronger than yours.

My wife and I counted thirty “Where are we” inquiries when we tried to ignore the question after three attempts to answer it. Since he didn’t like the answer, he kept asking. Over. And over. And over.

When he gets stuck in one of these loops, there is never a positive ending. Either I’ll have to firmly ask him to stop- and he cries, he continues for a week and a half…and I cry, his brother yells at him for his continuous inquiries, and they both end up in tears, or everyone ends up sad or angry somehow.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Parenting is the pinnacle of glamour.

When He’s Damn Good and Ready.

You know the stereotypical adolescent that comes home from school and evades all the questions the frustrated parents have regarding their day? We have one of those. Only he’s five. Instead of shying away from questions regarding test scores and homework assignments, he’s ducking inquiries about crayons and who he sits next to in art.

ME: “Hey bud, how was school?”

TN: “Good.”

ME: “What did you do today?”

TN: “I don’t remember.”

ME: “Did you do anything fun?”

TN: “I don’t know.”

ME: “How about lunch time, who did you sit next to?”

TN: “Daddy! I don’t REMEMBER!”

– at this point I’m met with the exasperated huff and stomping off that I hadn’t expected for another decade or so.

He will eventually divulge all sorts of information though- when he’s ready to do it. Don’t ask him questions, they’ll get you nowhere. You just have to wait and be patient.

ME: “Your teacher wanted us to send an apple with you to school today. Why was that?”

TN: “I don’t know.”

ME: “Was it for science?”

TN: “Maybe, I don’t remember.”

….Fifteen minutes and three separate conversations later:

TN: “We made applesauce today.”

One of us isn’t going to survive his teen years.

Hoist The Flag Corporal, It’s Time to Surrender.

Image source: http://www.aagrapevine.org via google images.

In spite of a mildly productive day that can’t have been described as all that bad….things spiraled out of control as soon as I came home.

First, as I pulled into the driveway, I notice a sizable pile of old baby accoutrements piled in the front lawn. My spidey sense started to tingle immediately. My wife had slipped into a “I’ve had it up to here with all this crap” mode. As a result:

sources: southerngirlramblings.com via google images.

She had gone into The Narrator’s closet and hauled everything out. Things were being separated into piles.
“Throw away” “Give away” and a smaller, third one that was “Keep.”

Usually when she gets going like this, it is best to stay right out of her way. If you stand still, you risk being clubbed and dumped in the “Throw away” pile. I went inside and inquired about the baby things on the lawn.

“They need to go down into the garage.”

“There’s no room in the garage” says I. – (The main part of the garage has things that belong to our landlord, and we have a small corner room where I have all kinds of crap wadded in there.)

“Well, there’s no room for it up here anymore either.”

(Here is where I make a mistake)

“Well”, says I….”It all came OUT of somewhere didn’t it?”

….And that is how spring cleaning can be responsible for drastically lowering the temperature around here. Needless to say, I moved it all to the garage. STAT.

_____________________________

Then, she needs to run into town for a quick errand. She takes The Narrator with her.
Upon her return, this happens.

“Um, is the car a bit more growly than usual?”

“No, I didn’t notice anything all day today, and I took it damn near 200 miles.”

“The brakes are weird too.”

“No they aren’t, they’re fine. Again. All day. No problem. PLUS the guy took it to inspect it today, and he didn’t notice any problems either.”

“I’m telling you, somethings off.”

“Humph.” – (This is my “you have no idea what you’re talking about” sound.)

Twenty minutes later, I go move the car out of the driveway so our landlord can bring his truck in to move some things out of the garage. I put it in reverse and hit the accelerator.

“SCCCRRRRUUUNNGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH… SKKKKRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAGGGGLLLLLLLEEEEEEBFJUFDSFJDEKL”

….and the brake pedal sinks low to the floor.

…..just like she said it did.

Somewhere between my getting home at 4:30 and her taking the car back out at 5:00, the brake pads on one of the wheels said “Take this job and shove it.” Don’t ask me how that happens, but I swear it made no noise at all when I came home. Or all day. But it conspired with my wife somewhere along the lines to make me look like a jerk and help the day end on a note of flatulence rather than peace.

Couple all of this with my exhaustion from the last few days, and The Narrator’s fun little game of pretending he’s afraid of his dinner, and crying about having to eat in much the same manner as a condemned man might beg for clemency in an old west movie as he’s being dragged to the gallows by a man in a black hood. Now you have an accurate picture of the headache that is my evening.

It certainly could be worse. No doubt about it. But today just turned into one of those days where several little things go wrong all at once.
As I write this, a smell invades my nostrils. A bad smell. An unmistakable smell. Across the room stands 19 month old Mini-Me with a grin on his face that says:

“Daddy…on the awful cake that is your evening, I have supplied the icing.”

 

The Headaches of Scheduling

I sit this morning looking at what seems to be an insurmountable number of schedules, re-schedules, post-it notes with reminders, and emails detailing some upcoming task or another.

But the crux of it all is the single sheet marked “April, 2014” of the calendar handing next to my ‘desk area’ which is just my seat at the dining room table with some extra papers piled in the corner.

On that single sheet is a comprehensive schedule for the next several weeks…and its complete. After months of planning week-by-week for several part time jobs, school, and other important obligations, the entire month of April is set in concrete. My tech work, ambulance work, and part time police department schedule are all lined up. Any conflicts in work have already been cleared with respective bosses, The Narrator’s school schedule is worked in there, as is his birthday and a very important meeting with the fire department.

The sheet is practically dripping with sharpie ink of various colors, and as I set up my google calendar to correspond to the written paper, I realize that I am looking at a nice, full, rigid schedule for the first time in so very, very long.

The peaceful and solid schedule of April is something to look forward to, especially since March doesn’t seem to be going out without a fight. Yesterday, for example, I had to take a day off from work so I could make a pre-employment medical examination for the PD. I drove 45 minutes to the appointment, only to be told I was in the wrong location, that the office I was in “Couldn’t do that exam” …although the reasons were not made clear to me as to why.

See, the company that does the employment health screenings has two locations. One 45 minutes from me (where I was) and the other… twice as far. Civil Service had made the appointment for me, so as soon as I was kicked out of the office by a sneering receptionist who clearly hated her job- I called them. Lucky for me we live in a small county so I immediately got a hold of the woman who had made the appointment for me. She told me she had specifically requested this location from the company, and was given the “A-Okay” from whomever she talked to. The lady apologized profusely to me, which I dismissed, it hadn’t been her fault. She called the manager of the medical company, then called me back, informing me that they’d rescheduled me for TODAY at the other location. Good news is that I don’t have to wait 2 more weeks for an appointment, bad news is that another day at work had to be missed. Fun side fact, the Civil Service lady was told by the manager that she spoke to that there was no reason the the location I’d been scheduled for and had gone to couldn’t do the examination for me.

The bottom line is, the ball was dropped somewhere, and I’m out two days of per-diem work this week.

When I was in the police academy, I was taught that my communication should be clear, concise, and accurate at all times to avoid getting in trouble or muddying the waters any. What my instructors had failed to do was let me know that expecting the same from anyone else was to invite disappointment and chaos.

Lesson learned.

Another lesson that I’m learning fast, is that scheduling any sort of personal activity takes an act of congress, especially if you’re looking to meet up with friends. We had a weekend set up to meet with a college friend that we haven’t seen in some time, but they had to cancel due to the husband’s work. Rechecking the schedule, there is no time at all to meet up with them for at least another month. Aligning schedules is like aligning planets.
These same sort of circumstances are creating a bit of tension with my in-laws who live an hour and a half away and are getting a little bit grumpy at the fact that we haven’t been to visit them since New Year’s. Checking availability for the next month….yeah, not gonna happen for at least another month. Oops.

The long and short of it though, is that as fouled up as personal activities go, at least my work schedule is something that I can anticipate and plan around again. There are a few (very) long days, like the ones where I work 7am to 2pm at one job, then do 3-11pm with the PD…but they’re few and far between, and the point is that I know they’re coming so far ahead of time that I can make sure there is a bottle of wine available for my wife after bedtime for the boys happens.

So, fingers crossed….no surprises April. Please, no surprises.

How Children Defy Physics*

(*Assuming you take creative liberties with definitions, and completely ignore basic scientific and sociological knowledge)

Stand on top of a hill with a big, heavy rock at your feet. Your task is to get the rock to the bottom of the hill. Nudge the rock with your foot. It doesn’t move. Place your foot against it and push. Nothing. Lean down, heave as hard as you can. The rock moves. Then it gains momentum, in a few moments, it is rolling down the hill on its own. You’ve done it.

That’s how science works. There are laws of physics which explain why that happens, which I cannot lay out for you because I was kicked out of physics. And chemistry. And took earth science twice…..er….anyway.

With children, the harder you push, the further backwards YOU end up, with that metaphorical rock sunk a little deeper into the ground and your hopes of getting it down the hill any time before the next planetary alignment are about as realistic as finding a unicorn surfing upon the back of the Loch Ness monster while on a fishing trip to a trout stream.

You just cannot push kids to do anything. Case in point-

Breakfast time in our house is usually a simple affair. Waffles bedecked with either nutella or the classic syrup are a favorite. Occasionally some corn muffins (when I don’t screw them up) or english muffins, fruit….whatever. The Narrator generally devours breakfast happily then pounces off to start his day of Hot Wheels races, failed block towers, (another physics lesson for another time) cartoons, and bickering with his brother. The usual kid’s stuff.
However, the VERY second you start up breakfast with something else on the schedule beyond it and make the mistake of uttering the fatal words “Hurry up, we have to <fill in the blank>” ….he shuts down. The two waffles that took him .83 seconds to devour yesterday will now take him thirty minutes to eat. My legendary patience doesn’t help the matter either. As soon as I get fussy because he’s turned mule, he’ll cry, then the waffles will get eaten just about in time for the fourth grade.
His uncanny ability to sense urgency and resist it baffle his mother and I. This is most expectantly observed on school days. We leave the house at 8 on the nose. We wake him at 7. For the hour in between, he has three simple tasks. Dress. Eat. Brush teeth. As I sit here at 7:42 He has finally finished the waffles, but is nursing his cup of milk the same way someone might nurse a single beer at a party. His mother is crafting, and I’m typing this, the both of us trying hard not to ask him to ‘hurry up please’ – since we would really like his next day of school to come sometime before we have to rent a cap and gown.

Push a rock, it’ll go where you want it to go. That’s physics. Push a child, (Not physically. Don’t do that.) and you’ll end up nowhere near accomplishing what you need to do. That’s parenting.