Moving On...

I've started a new blog. Why? Because I have entered another phase of my life with the happy outcome of my fifth pregnancy and the end of my childbearing years. Now it's time to focus on the joys of motherhood, including dealing with teething, teen years, and biotchy uber-moms...

If you want to find me, send me an email and I'll let you know where I am. If not, it's been a pleasure if I made you smile even once with my words.

All the best~
Spinarella

Your Failure To Prepare Does Not Constitute An Emergency On My Part

Dear Uber-Volunteer Mom,

I understand you have a lot on your plate. Really, I do. Working full-time, raising your child, spending time with your husband, volunteering your time on different committees and for different causes. I applaud you. Really, I do. As a fellow volunteer, I know how much you have on your plate.

That said, do you think, if you volunteer to be the person to organize something, you might want to call on others to ask them to volunteer their time and/or their baking skills and/or BOTH of the above for a three-day event, you may want to contact those others, oh, I don't know, NOT the day the event starts?!?!?!

As my DH informed me Friday, you had called that morning while I was at work and left a message on our machine. When asked what your message was, his reply was something along the vein of "It was too long and demanding for me to pay attention to it, so I left it on the machine for you." But not in those words. He instead made some comment about your rambling request, added “that’s what drives me crazy with all these idiots in charge”, and suggested that I should call you as you specified in your message.

Here's the thing: I did call you back. At your home number. I know it's your home number because your answering machine message told me that I indeed had dialed the correct number. And I left you a message to clarify what exactly you needed me to do and/or what I was available to help with. And I left you BOTH my numbers. Home and cell. That was Friday afternoon before school let out.

Then I listened to your message when I got home. DH was right. Little on the demanding side. Here’s a bit of advice: when you need assistance from volunteers, don't call them the day the event starts. And don't take up four minutes of their answering machine time to list ALL the ways you need help over the next three days. DH’s comment about “idiots in charge” was because, on top of asking me to personally volunteer at any and/or all three days of the event, you also asked me to bake items for any and/or all of the three days. Said baked goods had very specific guidelines to wrapping, labeling, and what time to have them at said event. Geez, lady, there’s a reason volunteers suffer from burn-out, you know – chairs like you!

Here's the thing: I also work. And I have kids and a husband too, one of them being very small (a kid, not the husband). And I volunteer for a lot as well. And I've worked with you before, so I know your M.O. I have heard how you're "sooooo bussssssssy". And here's my thought: if you're so busy, you should probably assume that you're not the only one. And if you choose to be in charge of coordinating folks to help out, it behooves you to make such calls a week or two in advance.

Or perhaps you could take your cue from the FORMS that each parent received for this event that asked us to volunteer and to indicate how we would like to volunteer!!!!!!!!!! You know, the form I DIDN’T RETURN!!!!!!! It's like the g*^%& church bazaar every year - I didn't indicate I would do ANYTHING for it, as I have noted three other areas I am willing to volunteer in, and have even rated them, just like the form told me to. And by the time the bazaar rolls around, I’ve already been taken up on at least one of those areas. But every year, I get a message asking me to drop off my donation to the bazaar. And to return money for the tickets you've mailed me to sell, you know, the ones I NEVER requested because, hey, if I wanted to be in sales, folks, I would have made it my friggin' career path.

So, to Uber-Volunteer Mom and all the other uber-volunteer parents out there, I’m sorry you’re “soooooo busssssssy”. I’m sorry that you’ve offered to be in charge. I’m sorry you didn’t bother to try to man this event until the day it begins. I’m sorry that you waited until the day it starts to find bakers to donate goods. I'm sorry I never had the chance to talk to you because you STILL haven't returned my phone call! I’m sorry that your failure to prepare in advance does not constitute an emergency on my part.

Oh, and when you are in charge, UVM, as you said in the message, one would only presume that you would be present at said event to ensure that all runs smoothly, that all volunteer staff shows up and is in their appointed positions, and that all baked goods are delivered according to your precise instructions. On all three days. So imagine my surprise when you were nowhere to be found today. Guess you were “tooooo bussssssy” with something else, huh? Maybe you'll let me know with what when you finally return my call!

Sincerely,
Fellow Busy Volunteer Mom

P.S. - And after all that, I still made a dozen friggin’ brownies, which I dropped off today, just as the last day of the event was getting underway. Not an hour or two before the event, because that was precisely when I caved and threw the brownies in the oven.

Volunteer guilt, I guess. Baby steps, right?

From the Frying Pan to the Fire

I've been involved in my kids' school PTO for 8 years now. Last year, due to DS#3's arrival, I missed 2 meetings. I did notice that things seemed to be getting funky, but thought it was just me, and besides, I couldn't say anything because I hadn't been there, right?!? Well, this year, I'm an officer, and dealing with the Queen Biotch of the PTO. This woman self-appointed herself head again, and just yips at you until you give up or give in.

Well, she's got a shock coming. We started this year by calling her on a number of expenses from last year (no recorded vote, no attendance, no minutes, no approval). I should say, I called her on it. In front of everyone. Which was met with true biotchiness from her. And an "executive session" at the following meeting because she doesn't dare have this stuff discussed in public. A meeting at which I told her she should have just put on the agenda "Chew Out ____" instead of "Discussion of Last Year's Spending".

We're now planning her upheaval. If she gracefully fades away, we're okay. If not, plans for a bloody coup are underway.

Just Saying "No"

How prophetic that my last post should be about the work I was doing as Registrar for our Intown Youth Soccer Program. Our big fundraiser, a Jamboree of sorts, was held last Saturday. Over 350 kids and their families participated; we’re talking over 1,000 people, folks. And by the end of it, I had had it with one little prick of a Board member and resigned my position!

The Jamboree planning sucked. It shouldn’t have been rocket science. We did it last year, and I had all the notes to go by. It should have been a cakewalk. But last year, the Director and I did most of the detail work, while these schmucks moved nets the night before. This year, our Jamboree Committee, or, as I like to refer to us, the five doing all the work, ended up being next year’s Director, his wife, their best friends whose daughter is on their daughter’s team, and me. I’ll refer to the two other women as “the two wives” from here on in.

As always, the Director and some of the Board members just wouldn’t let go, even though they had no plans on being there for the event anyway. Four of them came to one meeting, promised to get a bunch of donations for our raffle, and never delivered. Even our Director had told everyone at our Coaches’ Meeting at the start of September that she wouldn’t even be there for the actual Jamboree because she had a wedding for the same day. Of course, she is also my oldest son’s coach, and then asked my DH, who had worked a comp day to get that Saturday off to help me out, to coach in her place. She also named next year’s Director as Jamboree Coordinator, but then wouldn’t give total control over to him, complicating a number of things. She kept delegating things out to members of the Board who everyone knew 1) wouldn’t be there for most of the day, and 2) couldn’t bring themselves to raise a finger to help, just like last year. She also included them in on the last meeting, held at the Jamboree Coordinator’s house, where they all sat in front of the TV watching the Red Sox game, drinking beer, and arguing with me and the two wives who were doing all the typing, schedules, flyers, etc. They were, as my father likes to say, as useless as tits on a bull.

On the day of the actual Jamboree, we had the Treasurer and two other Board members helping out most of the day, in addition to a small group of parent volunteers who did a great amount of work. The rest of the Board showed up late in the afternoon and proceeded to stand around gabbing, as all the heavy lifting was being done in front of their eyes by the volunteers.

Now comes the good part. The U10/12 Boys Coordinator had set up one of the most asinine playoff schedules I’ve ever seen, with brackets such as “Loser Game #1/2/3 with 2nd highest score vs. Loser Game #1/2/3 with 3rd best score”. I mean, no one could figure out what the Hell he’d done. When we tried to have him explain it at our last meeting, he snarled at us. Oh, and with all these Board members being League Coordinators, the rule at our Jamboree is that, if you can’t be there to run your League (age group), then you need to have someone else in charge (usually another coach from that league). Well, the guy who was going to sub for him ended up pulling his back, and could barely coach his own games, let alone run the League.

Well, Mr. U10/12 shows up at 12:30ish. Stands around gabbing with two other Board members. While his bracket system is screwing up the works. Because of a 0-0 tie, the third to last game was allowed to go to triple overtime. Kids were on the field for over an hour, when these games were supposed to be 25 minutes long. Parents were complaining to, among others, me, my DH (as coach), and the Jamboree Coordinator, that either their game was now an hour behind schedule or their kid had been playing for 65 minutes. I finally had had it, and went over towards the little huddle. When I approached him, I told him that he needed to do something about the situation. He turned on me, snarling “What is your problem?” I said, “We have a number of parents complaining. Go handle your league and do something about it!” His response was to snarl back that I didn’t know what I was talking about, at which point I lost it. My next comment was “X, you haven’t been here all day, so shut the F@$$% up!” His response? “You know, you have a real attitude and the entire Board is sick of it!”

Keep in mind, I was up until midnight that Tuesday night, working on details with the other two wives, then up until 10:00 p.m. the night before the Jamboree putting together the last-minute donations that we had obtained because the others had not delivered on their promises. Then I was up at 5:45 a.m. the day of the Jamboree, and at the field at 7:00 a.m. I was tired, hungry, sunburned, hadn't gotten to see either of DS#2's games and only one or two plays of DS#1's first game, and, on top of all that, I'm five months pregnant. Needless to say, I was not too willing to "suffer fools gladly" at this point.

Have you ever had an opportunity open up right in front of your eyes? I saw it, and before I knew what I was saying, I responded, “Fine, I’m done. I hereby resign. Get yourself another Registrar. I don’t need this from anyone!”

Short rest of the story: the Director kept phoning me from the wedding reception to find out how her team was doing. I told her to get a new Registrar, that I quit, and the details. She told me we’d talk the next day, which she didn’t do. My DH was so upset, he was going to pound this little jackass into the ground, but I convinced him not to. I wanted to call the cops, because at the end of the Jamboree, those same Board members who couldn’t be bothered to help out all through this process were toasting themselves on the town field, where no alcohol is allowed (our League has the same rule) with beer, while the volunteers finished cleaning up. We didn't. But I can guarantee that DH will, somehow, some day, get his revenge. To start with, this jerk is always at CCD on Sunday mornings to pick up his kids. DH was planning on approaching him and saying, "Don't you ever speak to my wife again. Cross the street if she's coming. Don't say a word, don't look at her, nothing." Jerk-Boy wasn't there the next morning, so DH did one better. The guy who lives next door to Jerk-Boy grew up with my DH in a city closer to Boston than our town. He has a day job and is a reasonably successful comedian on weekends. DH filled him in on Jerk-Boy's antics the day before. Guy was amazed, because where they come from, speaking to someone's pregnant wife like that, regardless of the situation, would earn you a beating. Guy will most certainly point this fact out to Jerk-Boy when he speaks to him, only it will probably be something along the lines of "You got a death wish? He's got 7 older brothers, and if you were in our hometown, they would all be over here kicking your ass! You should count your lucky stars!"

After my resignation, I watched my oldest son's second game, then picked up my table that I had brought for the day, and my family left. After we got home, I got a call from one of the wives, and ended up with the two wives at the Jamboree Coordinator’s house, and we had a great bitch session. They were both upset with how I got treated, especially in light of how much work I had done, and were very vocal both at the fields after I left and when their husbands and one of the other Board members got to the house afterwards.

Hearing nothing from the director, I sent an email on Monday morning to everyone on the Board, quoting X and officially resigning. I followed it up with a recap of all the loose ends that I was aware of for the Fall 2007 season, including the late registration I was HANDED AT THE JAMBOREE, and the other late registration I was TOLD WAS COMING. I turned all of it over to the Director Monday night, leaving the paperwork with a copy of the email at her house.

So I am done, and here’s why I know that, in the end, it was the right thing to do: when asked how they would feel if I wasn’t Registrar any more, both my kids responded with “Yeah! So, no more meetings, right?!?” Also, the next morning I woke up and felt as if a huge amount of pressure and weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

I did tell the wife of next year’s Director that, if there was turnover in the Board and her husband needed help, I would be willing to help. But, as the Board currently stands, I want nothing to do with that dysfunctional lot. The best part? For the most part, I was the word-processing form-making data-entry person for the entire Board. The registration forms? I created those. Notes to the League Coordinators re: missing kids, issues, etc.? Me. And I also, due to lack of response from those same Coordinators, was the primary contact for a number of the parents who had questions. DH has sworn me to do no more for the League, even for my friend, the Director. I’m not even making sure my name comes off the contact list. So the Spring 2008 season should be very interesting, as I have resolved to not respond to any emails for a 20-day period. After that, I’ll simply respond with “I’m so sorry. I am no longer the Registrar for our Intown Youth Soccer Program.” No directions, no nothing. I know it sounds vengeful, but it really is no longer my problem to address, and I am finally learning to say “No”.

Well, Aren't You Special

Does anyone remember the Church Lady, Dana Carvey's character on Saturday Night Live, and her punchline "Well, isn't that special?" I find myself wanting to say the same thing, only with my own spin on it, to certain parents I have had dealings with over the summer -- "well, aren't you special?"

Somehow, two years ago, I wound up as the Registrar for our Intown Youth Soccer Program. Actually, two friends of mine were the incoming Director and the Treasurer. The Treasurer, whose children had moved on to travel teams, wanted to step down and thought I’d be a great replacement. I went to the first board meeting and was informed that someone else had decided that another newbie would be Treasurer. I then moved to the Registrar position because it’s very similar to what I do at work and, more importantly, I can do it from home.

Well, this “volunteer” position resulted in me spending more than 100 hours during July, August, and the start of September dealing with parents of the local wanna-be Mia Hamms and David Beckhams. What exacerbated the situation is that we have a Director who also happens to be a very good friend of mine, and, while we usually get along, we differ on the “let them play” philosophy. Her’s is “no matter what, I’ll never keep a kid from playing”. Mine is “everyone should play who wants to, so long as their registration is completed and in on time”. She gives every parent the benefit of the doubt, responding to one of my comments with “Well, everyone’s really busy. They should still be allowed to register their kids after the due date”.

Here’s my problem with that statement. We have a website, that listed the deadline as well as two walk-in registration nights. We had a banner hanging over our downtown noting the walk-in nights and our website address. The registration forms were available on our website, and a registration form was also sent home with every elementary schoolchild back in June. Three hundred and fifty people managed to read the form and get it in on time. Another 65 parents, mostly with returning players, CHOSE to ignore the rules, including four board members and seven coaches.

So tell me – how is it fair to tell these people “no problem -- you are so more important than everyone else, of course we’ll let you ignore our stated policies and bend over backwards for you”, when everyone else managed to do the right thing?!?! My comment back to her was, “It’s all a matter of priorities. We’re all busy. It’s what you decide is important that you will make your priority. If you really want your kid playing soccer, you’ll get your registration in on time.”

This disagreement has now led to the establishment of a “Registration Committee”, which I am on with five board members. The Director, who plans to step down after the Spring season, is not one of them; next year’s “elected” Director (the one who protested the least when every other board member elected him) is on it with me. He has a similar mindset to mine, so the situation will hopefully improve. We’re also gunning to take registration online for the Spring season, so that might eliminate a lot of the paperwork crap I deal with.

So, if anyone does read this, what do you think? Is it fair to ignore the rules for a few? Have you had a similar experience with a youth sport or other area of your life? And what ever happened to just doing the right thing?

Summer - Week 2

Hard to believe that the boys have only been out of school for a week. Four days to be exact, with today being Day 5. The color-coded chart is back on the frig, just so I have some semblance of order, just so everyone knows where everyone is supposed to be that day, and at what time, because, of course, all summer camps not being created equal, we have different start and end times for the various weeks.

On my end, I have had to cope with the return of the biotchy boss. This woman is one of those workaholic moms whose motto is "Just don't get involved" with anything in your kids’ lives (you know, the kind that move out of town after their kids graduate and no one remembers who they were). On the other hand, I am involved in my kids’ lives and our community. She’s also very narcissistic, and a number of times had made comments that I could have (and should have) grieved her over.

She took 18 months off to haul her kids to the Far East because her husband is working there. She was a basket case during the year before, when he was going back and forth; that’s what happens when you have NO support system. Relatives in the area wouldn’t help out, and she’s paranoid about hiring babysitters (she’s such a perfectionist). Now she’s back. And the husband? He's still over there. Great. If her own husband doesn't want her with him, what's that mean for the rest of us? Sorry, but what does it say about a couple when a job is more important than being together with your family? Particularly when your family could be living with you. Granted, on the other side of the world, but at least you'd all be together. Oh, and we're not talking poor working-middle-class folks here. He's making at least six figures, and she, having lost her mom the year before she left and her dad a few years before that, has inherited (with her brother) two homes and an estate worth at least a million.

Making things worse is the fact that the interim boss was the nicest guy in the world, who was very together and focused (did I mention that she is still very unfocused?!?). Let’s just say that she has very big shoes to fill, and she’s already showing signs of not having changed one bit.

So I’ve made it though the first week with her back. Just taking it day by day.

Virginia Tech

My heart aches for you all.

For the students, the teachers, the first responders, for the witnesses to the horror.

I cry as I read about the victims, and of the heroes.

The professor who survived the Holocaust and blocked the door with his body to save his students.

The students who slammed doors and piled tables, who tended to their classmates' wounds as the madman continued his rampage.

I cry for the families, for the brothers and sisters of the victims.

And for the parents.

Burying a child is something no parent should have to do.

I cry for you most because I know that pain.

I had less time, but I had a room to clean out, and a handful of pictures.

I have wrestled with the tears that the "What ifs" and "should have beens" bring to my throat.

You will live in a fog for the next few months. It is Nature's way of getting you to the next stage, her way of protecting you from the constant pain.

The pain will scab over. But the scab will pull at its edges, reminding you it's there. It will crack and bleed when you least expect it, and the weight of your grief will be a tidal wave that you will struggle against.

"I am so sorry for your loss" seems so trite, and yet is the only thing that can be said.

I am so sorry for your loss.

Don Imus

I believe the freedom of expression. I also believe that we may have been better off when there was some air of civility in this country, where you were polite to people and watched your language. Now, it's all about "shock-jocks". And one of them said the wrong thing at the wrong time. Couldn't stop flapping your gums, could you, Don? While your charitable efforts have been enormous, you have tarnished them with your vitriol towards some young women who didn't deserve it.

That said, I hope that this is not the end of the discussion. Meredith Vieira, who is one of those "women-I-would-love-to-meet-someday", was speaking with the Rev. Sharpton last week on the Today Show (her interview can be read here: http://newsbusters.org/node/11990), and she put it so eloquently into words. As Rev. Sharpton was talking about the need for government-regulated broadcasting, she said

"Let's talk about accountability, sir. Because when you had Imus on your show on Monday you brought your daughter out at one point, and this really resonated with me because I have a daughter. And you asked him to look at your daughter and you said "this is not a ho. This is my daughter." A lot of people around the country understood what you were saying because so many young ladies and young men, every day on the airwaves are exposed to ugly language: to the n-word, to the b-word, to the word 'ho,' much of it originated in the black community with rap music, with hip-hop music, as you have acknowledged. What are you going to do now to immediately stop that filth that is coming over the airwaves in the way you've tried to stop Don Imus?"

Yes, Rev. Sharpton, what are you and your community going to do? Will you target the rappers and hip-hop artists next? Meredith went on to say that it "permeates through society". Another point well stated. I've had this discussion with my 11-yo and some of his friends. They were in the car one day and one of them wanted to hear a song on the radio. I couldn't tell it was a song at first; all the bleeps made it sound like the Emergency Broadcasting System's Test. I changed the channel. I was asked why, and I talked to them. I told them how I listen to almost all music, and I do like some rap, because it tells a story. I also talked about artists like Kanye West, and how he comes across in interviews as a very well-spoken intelligent young man. That is, until he opens his mouth to sing some of the crap he puts out, loaded with cuss words. And how that, IMHO, makes him look dumb, and stupid, and ignorant.

It's everywhere. I'm sick of turning on the radio and listening to some idiot, white or black, talking about being down in the 'hood wit' his homies and hos, followed by some bleeps, followed by more crap. And to be honest with you, I don't care what race you are, DO NOT say the N-word. If you think it's okay because you are black to say that word, then you are denying everything that people before you went through to NOT be called that. And Rev. Sharpton, please don't start the nonsense about it's-not-the-rapper's-fault, it's-the-record-executive-who-isn't-black's fault. It’s the entire industry’s fault, and it’s our fault for buying that crap. But let’s not be hypocrites. What's good for the goose is good for the gander. If you want Imus off the commercial airwaves, let’s get the foul-mouthed artists off, too.

This discussion should NOT end with Don Imus's firing. It must continue on, and ALL, regardless of race or gender, who spread their misogynistic, racist garbage, and those that profit from it, should be told to clean up their acts. Just as people called the advertisers for Imus's show and told those company execs that they would no longer buy their products if they supported the show, I think all of us should call the radio stations and tell them that we won't listen if they keep filling our airways with garbage.

Look out, Mouse!

Well, I have to accept the fact that I’m not good at this keeping-up-the-blogging thing. I can’t do it at home, because Webkinz (I think they’ll have to form support groups for the elementary school set who have become hooked on these things!!!!) and Club Penguin and researching the 5th grade class project have invaded our home’s cyberspace. That, and I hate people HANGING OVER MY SHOULDER when I’m trying to tie the frayed remnants of thoughts together to form a cohesive train of consciousness. So, I try to blog at work (I know, bad employee, but hey, I never get my contracted-mandated 30 minute lunch and 2, count ‘em, 2 15-minute breaks), but then the phone rings, or someone does come in and I don’t want them reading my most personal thoughts because none of them know I blog, or I actually need to get some work done. Well, no one is in the office now, so I guess I’ve got a chance to redeem myself, since it’s only been……… Oh My God, SIX months since I blogged last.

We’re going to the Land of Mickey in eight days. Eight days. Until Monday, I was just focused on getting the taxes done. Now I have to focus on this. Let me preface this by saying that I am the organized one in the house. I have three males in the house, and me. That’s one dyslexic-unorganized-possibly-ADD-husband, one 11-yo who is focused only at this time on making sure his MP3 is loaded with the latest tunes and is working on his list of “must-do” rides, and one head-strong, dyslexic-and-working-the-sympathy-vote 7-yo. The 7-yo is the one who responded to my “How did this get to be my job?” open-ended, said-to-no-one-in-particular outburst last night with the retort “Because you’re the mom, that’s why. Dads don’t do that stuff!” (BTW, I’d like to thank DH for teaching the kids about gender roles….).

This combination plus DH’s harumphing around when something is forgotten (harumphing is that sound that someone makes when they’re disappointed in you) means that I am a woman of lists. Lists that I check and recheck and recheck some more. My friends tease me that I am always prepared. What they don’t understand is that it is an emotional defensive mechanism that my husband and kids have helped hone and that my parents (very organized listmakers, those two) instilled in the first place. Lists mean that you don’t forget anything, don’t disappoint anyone, don’t let anyone down.

And when you depend on a non-listmaker to pack? Well, having DH do his own packing for a summer weekend getaway to Santa’s Village in NH (BTW – AWESOME place for Christmas-lovers) resulted in having to buy tshirts, as he forgot to pack his (not to mention the one he had on had a hole under the arm, apparently for ventilation). Last month was the best one, though. I had a retirement planning workshop I’d signed up for on a Thursday night. We were going to drive down to RI the next morning for my DB’s Naval College graduation. Well, New England weather being what it is, the forecast for the next morning involved precipitation in at least three, if not five, forms: snow, sleet, slush, freezing rain, and rain. The decision was made at about two in the afternoon to go after my workshop, and get down to Newport at about midnight, missing the storm. I told DH that I was counting on him to check the packing. He did. The next morning, at the hotel, we got up at about 6:30 so that we would have enough time to get breakfast, get ready, and leave for the graduation ceremony at 9:00. At 7:00 I turned on the iron and looked for the boys’ shirts to quickly press the collars. Guess what didn’t make it into the car?!? The boys’ dress shirts and sweaters. I went into drill-sergent mode (I don’t care if you need coffee, honey, we need to find a Target or Walmart and get them shirts!!!! No, YOU stay in the car and I’LL get directions from the front desk!!!). Twenty-five minutes later, I was charging $18 worth of blue dress shirts, and we were on our way back to the hotel.

So, my lists are out. We’re going to attempt to do this vacation with only the clothes and essentials that can fit in a backpack. I don't want to deal with checked luggage that could get lost (Harumph). I don't even want to deal with a rolling carry-on, as the last time we flew, the lovely Delta gate biotch in Atlanta ripped them from my hands (as she did with all the other coach passengers) because they had SOOOooooo many people on board. Of course, if they had restricted the business class folks to one instead of three bags, there probably would have been room for the one-bag-per-person-allotment. I don't want to even deal with the TSA regulations regarding liquids that could change overnight. I'm shipping a box down with that stuff in it (some money, but my sanity is worth much more).

I’ll let you how it’s going…