It's Not Easier

People seem to think that since we've done this before, we know how to handle things, that we're fine.

That's utter bullshit.

The second time around does not make it easier. If anything, it's harder.

Twice I have slept in an ICU with a child in critical condition, holding his hand and tending to his needs. Telling him he would be okay, that we'd get through this, when I wasn't so sure myself.

Three months ago today, I walked into the ICU to see my son just out of emergency surgery with oozing bandages on his head, tubes in and out of his body, and a purple swollen face. Twelve years ago on Thursday, that same son crashed and coded in another ICU and ended up on life support for nine days.

It's harder to go through it again because we know the some of the recovery ahead of us -- yet we know we don't know at all what is to come. We don't know the trajectory, or what curves will be thrown our way in the process. And this time, some of the recovery is happening out of our sight.

In each instance, we've come out the other side with a son who is alive, even if not quite intact. He has more than two feet worth of surgical scars on him now, a bit less lung, and a bit less skull (replaced by titanium plates). But he is alive, and cognitively intact from everything we can tell. He is back at at school.

I'm so thankful he is alive. I cannot put into words how thankful I am for that. I am so thankful that he is on another path to recovery, but I am having even more trouble understanding why.

One kid, two freak incidents. What were his chances of developing ARDS as a 7 year old? What were his chances of hitting that tree as an almost 19 year old, the one tree on the hill that he been used for sledding by generations of he friend's family. It had never been hit before.

I know. There is no point in asking why. It just is.

He'll never be the same. Again.

We'll never be the same. Again.

People around me assume that since C is back at school and there is no active care-taking happening in my home that it's all done and over. Injury+surgery+clearance to go to school=done and recovered. Not quite. He has a traumatic brain injury and still shows some post-concussion symptoms (subtle though they may be). He looks okay, therefore all must be okay.

When people ask how we are and I respond with anything other than, "Fine," it's clear they don't really want to know. They want reality to match the outward appearance. We look okay, therefore we must all be okay.

Right now I need people to have patience with me, but it's hard to ask that out loud. I am trying to process a lot. So is my husband. So is my son. So are my other children. I'm emotional and get upset easily. There's been some extended family drama, too (both sides). We as a family need to have patience with each other, too, and in some moments, that's hard. We are all needy -- and we all need each other not to be so needy. It's a catch-22 that will take time and a bit of faith in each other to get through.

It's not the end of the world

Though to listen to the voices in my head, you might think it were.

So I enjoyed myself over the holidays and the scale is reading a few pounds or so higher than I'd like. Really, just a few. Single digit. So what.

So what.

So.

What.

I haven't been one to make resolutions the last few years, but, dammit, I need to get over this body image issue. Or through it. Or something.

I'm fit. I'm strong. This shouldn't matter. Why does it so?

I'll Take That as a Compliment

Early this morning my husband and I were having a conversation about out 15yo C and academics. There's this current awful teacher situation we're trying to coach him through, and there's also planning for next academic year -- his junior year in high school (how the hell did that happen?).

I said something like, "I'm trying not to be a helicopter parent about this, but it's hard."

My husband said, "I don't think you are a helicopter parent. I think you are a predator drone parent. You operate stealthily, at a higher altitude, allowing greater freedom on the ground. But when appropriate, you are able to launch a surgical strike with lethal precision. These teachers just don't know who they are dealing with."

Blink, blink.

OK.

It Gets Stranger

So...continued drama with my sister. I received this email from her yesterday.

You have plenty of friends to talk to, but your last e-mail trivialized me. I have told you that you won. You fucked me over. Please stop it. This is another case where you "poured gasoline onto a fire" and detonated a bomb. Your actions since yesterday have hurt me deeply. I cannot continue to receive your harassing emails, texts and a phone call is out of the question. I have told no one, not even S*****. The issue now is only about your behavior in the last 17 hours. Please do not contact me. Maybe later, but it would be unproductive in the near future. You have destroyed me enough I chose not to put myself through any more. I'm not in very good shape today because of you and if you contact me again it is because your only intent is to further fuck me over.

I'm still trying to sort out exactly what is going on. What I've won, I have no idea. Apparently I f*cked up a situation I knew nothing about by responding to her calling me a bitch. I mean -- really -- did she expect no response? And it appears her husband knows nothing about it. Big red flags to me. I had no idea I had so much power!

But so much is not adding up. The idea that she's trying to catch some perv is questionable. She doesn't have an altruistic bone in her body -- never does anything unless she gets some benefit. My suspicion is that she's hiding something really big -- something she really screwed up but, as usual, won't take any responsibility for her actions. I suspect this whole stalker/catching a perv claim is really an affair gone bad. I wonder if the whole fall drama was an effort to deflect someone in the house getting close to the truth. The AFS student perhaps?

One night last summer on the beach, the power of a moment stopped me in my tracks. It was a gorgeous night, my family was together, eating good food, goofing off, bickering, and so on. My sweet husband came up behind me and hugged me and asked me what I was thinking. I said, "I want you to know that I'm not going to screw this up, at least intentionally. We have such a good life, and I appreciate it. You and the kids and where we live and all that. I'm not going to intentionally do anything to fuck this up."

My sister -- the whole family -- can have the west coast. I will take my life on the opposite side of the country with glee and appreciation. it is not a perfect life, but it is a good life. I appreciate it, challenges and all.

Maybe that's what I have won.

Don't Know Why I Bothered

Well.

It's been quite a while. Much has happened, is happening. Since I can't vent about some stuff on Facebook and Twitter, I'm back writing here, trying to process the latest drama.

It's been over a year since I wrote about my sister. In that time, it's been mostly calm. That is, no contact. There was this small episode in February '11 while I was working on the initial phases of the town project (which passed, by the way). She was very nasty to a friend of mine on Facebook -- yes, we were still "friends" though she had filtered her page so I couldn't see anything -- but shortly after that she was off Facebook completely.

I had some contact with my oldest nephew. He moved to a new city to start a new job. I was very excited for him. (I later figured out that the Facebook episode in February corresponded with his departure for the new city -- much like her dramatics each time he left for summer internships.)

This fall, in November, the nephew came to visit. It was great to see him. But the trip was a little odd, too. He seemed distracted. He also said his mom and family didn't know he was visiting us and he'd like to keep it that way. I agreed to keep it quiet, not post his name on Facebook, etc.

Later in November, I sent my sister a birthday gift, like I did last year. This time, though I sent a gift card and it would have been harder to return.

A couple weeks later, I checked one of my alternate email accounts for the first time in a while. This is also the only email address my sister has. And there was an email from her.

It was nice. It was thanking me for the gift and telling me some things, and though it was a little cryptic, it was nice.

I waited a couple days before I replied. But I did reply, hopefully.

And thus began about a month of tentative communication. I was careful not to respond eagerly and took great pains to craft emails that were showed some interest, but weren't too...anything. I vowed not to get caught up her in her shit again.

Along the way I learned that in early November she had been involuntarily committed to the psych ward for several days. This corresponded with the nephew's visit and explains why he was distracted. As far as that commit goes, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. Really. It's been brewing for years -- and brings whole new meaning to the term "crazy relatives." I'm not clear on how she extricated herself -- don't really want details! -- and whether this therapist who called the police is still around. I suspect not -- I suspect she's done her usual see the mental health professional long enough to complain about how she's been done so wrong and get prescriptions but as soon as the therapist asks her to take some responsibility for her life, she bails. It's about a 30 year pattern at this point.

Anyway, the emails. Among other things, I learned that they are hosting an AFS student from Spain this year. Yes, an innocent girl from half the world away has been cast into the mess. The real motive for having an AFS student became clear in one email. She wrote, "When S***** came in August I made the mistake of thinking I will have a daughter who would be just like you. As my little sister you liked anything I did, etc." Poor girl. As my sweet husband said, if the year ends without a visit from Interpol, we can call it a success. However, as of this last week, AFS is looking for a new host family for the girl.

She went to visit the oldest in his new city in December and insisted on telling him all the details that got her the police escort to the locked psych unit and a three day commit. Her sons DO NOT need to know those details. They are not responsible for her mental health. And this oldest nephew now feels in such a difficult situation. As if he doesn't have enough going on in starting his new life.

Christmas gifts were exchanged, even.

So...things were going along fine. Until last night.

Last night I hopped on Twitter and discovered a mention in an account I didn't know. This account, this handle, called me a "bitch." Upon investigation I was able to easily discern it was my sister. And I could see that it was in reponse to a Thanksgiving-related hashtag I'd used back in November, noting that the biting incident was my worst Thanksgiving ever (and I do take responsibility for my role in that). Further investigation of the handle revealed a tweet saying, "New area of expertise: sisters from hell." That would be me, in case you hadn't guessed.

I responded to the tweet with:

@******* Oh, hi, A*****! Nice to see you on Twitter. Hey all, say hello to my sister, A*****. She lives in AZ. Hope we'll have fun here!

Okay, perhaps I should not have done that. I've been called worse by her, admittedly, but this seemed rather out there. She really had to look for that old tweet. She *worked* for that indignant feeling. But -- what the F**K? -- my *sister* calls me a "bitch" on Twitter and I am supposed to do nothing? Wait, don't answer that. I suppose that is what I should have done. But clearly I didn't.

Next I tried texting her. Here is our text exchange:

Me: How about we actually talk things out instead of calling names? 1993 *was* my worst T-day ever...and *I* had a part in making it such. Why are you using J***** B******'s name anyway. Do you even know where he is now?

Her: 17 years ago? Just when I thought you were growing up

Her: I use J***** b***** because I had a horrible stalker

Me: It was rather memorable. And I guess I'm lucky that in those 17 years I haven't had another really terrible T-day. Although 1999 was pretty sucky. And 2006. It was a hashtag that millions of people were using that day. I'm sorry if you take offence.

Me: What does "growing up" have to do with it. It happened. Maybe with time travel we could change the past, but we can't.

Me: Why the need to call names?

Me: Offense, that is.

Her: Thanks for your apology. It's a first. And I do understand that its funny. After 17 years wtf I have gone through it's not fair

Me: We've all been through lots of shit.

Her: If you don't have a better story time to make some new ones

Her: I'm busy. Last word. Gfi

Me: And I am pretty sure I apologized to you back in 1993 when I gave you that book about sisters, cheesy though it may have been.

Me: Gfi?

Me: If you want apologies, how about these:

Her: Go for it.

Me: I am sorry I was born and screwed up the perfect family of four.

Me: I am sorry I no longer idolize you like I did when I was little

Me: I am sorry that I left Phoenix and didn't come back.

Me: I am sorry that you've dealt with the brunt of mom stuff.

Me: I'm sorry I'm not what you want me to be in a sister.

Me: I'm sorry you've been so unhappy all these years.

Me: I'm sorry Dad was so uneven as a parent. Im sorry you think i was his favorite. You should know how much he talked about you and worried about you. He just wanted you to be happy and didn't know how to help that happen.

Me: I hope neither of us ever have a worse Tday than 1993. I only want us to have better Tdays than that. And better days every day.

Her: You were not his favorite. Go back under your rock

Me: I certainty hope I wasn't! It was often accused by you, however. WHY are you so intensely angry at me?

Me: What does what I do with my life have to do with yours?

Me: Why do you feel the need to call names and get so nasty?

Her: Go away. I'm not even reading them. You won! But I wasn't competing

Me: Won what? I haven't been competing either. And I don't believe that you really want me or anyone else to go away. You want us to see how unhappy you are. We see it! You want us to know how angry you are at the world. We know! But what do you want any if us to DO about it?

Her: Erase erase erase. I can truly erase before I read. Don't cast your pearls before swine!! Tweet that one under stupid sisters.

Me: I am trying to do the right thing here. You are my sister and I love you. Even when you are nasty and angry I still love you. We also have a mother who isn't getting any younger and we are going to have to deal with her.

Her: Now my phone is off

Me: Super! You'll get these when you turn it on again

Me: Turning off you phone isn't going to make any of these issues go away

Then it moved to email. The first one from her:

I am so mad, I can't and will not even read your email. I had a stalker. I follow my stalker. The ** police patrol my house. I had to close my other twtter account down with a K score of 52 and 350 terrific followers, including the site for which I have written. That site (HUGE) was almost shut down three weeks ago because of attacks by my stalker at me on that site. Now, you are making me start over again, after just one fucking week? There will be an arrest.

Again, grow up, have the last word, fuck me over again, talk about me for shit that happened 17 fucking years ago, There are people who follow you and they know who I am. I have groveled enough to try to have a relationship. Congratulations J, you fucked me over. Again. Take my kids. Take anything dear to me. It's yours.

Then this:

Your email is unread. This was important to me. I can see you now, running around calling all your friends and anyone that can listen to you just like a girl and a catty one at that.

Then another claiming she's just really an internet crime fighter and I screwed everything up and put young girls in danger. So which is it? So many things don't add up. I had no idea she had a stalker -- and if that Twitter account was all about catching him, why would she call me out? Not to mention Words with Friends posts that mention her friends' names (that would then put them in danger), and so on. It was way too easy to figure out it was her.

Clearly this is a no-win situation. I get that. If I could just sever all contact with no fallout, I just might. But we have a mother who is not getting any younger (she turns 80 this spring and I get the sense she's hoping for a big family get together to mark that birthday. Oh dear.) and extended family that would be extremely uncomfortable and her kids...her sweet boys (at least 2 of 3 are sweet).

I think we're back to silence. It's rather a relief. I was getting caught up in her shit even though I vowed not to. Why a woman who has such huge life advantages sees herself as such a victim, I don't know. Life isn't perfect, crap happens, but she played a role in a lot of that crap happening. So "all I have have been through" sounds so pathetic. Rather "all the poor choices I've made and refusal to take responsibility for my life."

At 57, she's hopeless. I know that, as much as I hate the reality of it. I hate acknowledging that about someone I do love. A healthy relationship with her is not possible. Trying to interact with her in a rational manner is not possible. It's about damage control and minimizing issues from this point forward as long as our mother is around. And as my grandmother lived to be 95, it could be quite a while. Sigh, and all that.

In other news, I am unemployed again. Trying to go in many different directions at once -- which one will stick?

She Must be One of Those Job Creators I Keep Hearing About

I've been working on a project in town -- trying to get town approval for funding a new school building. It's no easy task. The first half of my effort was last spring and resulted in favorable votes at town meeting and town election for design funds. Now we're asking for the big bucks -- construction funds.

The project is solid. We need it. As a community we have to afford it for our long-term health. The people involved are honest and hardworking and have put in thousands of hours of volunteer time. And so on and so on. I believe we have sufficient support in town. Still, there are pockets of opposition and I will not feel calm about this until all the votes are in, 27 days from now.

Saturday morning, an acquaintance and I were standing outside the local market passing out flyers and talking to people. It was a productive morning. My acquaintance is terrific for this task as she grew up here and she knows everybody. Everybody.

A couple hours in, this woman comes by and starts chatting with us. She clearly knows my aquaintance. We tell her what we are promoting, and she immediately launches into a monologue about how we really don't need schools, and if they pass she doesn't know if she's going to be able to afford to keep living here.

We hear this a fair bit. The cost is not insignificant, and we are not unfeeling. Town officials are working hard to make sure the financing is as affordable as possible. We have tax abatement programs in town for those in need. And so on. So when this woman said this, I was sympathetic. Plus, she is absolutely welcome to her opinion.

But then (and of course there's a, "But then.") she said, "When I moved here, my taxes were $6000 a year. Now they are over $24,000."

Um.

I know the tax rate in this town. And when she said this I was quickly able to determine that her home is assessed at about $3,500,000. That's assessed value, not market value -- which likely would be higher.

I worked hard to keep my poker face on while I offered facts on the project. And this woman continued find reasons to dismiss those facts.

Shortly, though, the woman said, "Well, I've got to run. I'm trying to get to Nantucket for a couple days and need to make a ferry."

My acquaintance said, "Sounds wonderful. Where do you stay on Nantucket?"

The woman said, "Oh, I have a house."

Oh the Ambivalence of Mother's Day

We just can't seem to get Mother's Day right. Or, rather, I can't seem to get Mother's Day right.

We had a fine Mother's Day. Really. We have a family project going on that I'm really quite excited about and the day itself was fine. Truly! We had casual dinner out -- and then I started to loose my shit.

I'm overwhelmed by house management. I've never been a very been a fabulous housekeeper, though I manage okay. But as the kids have gotten older, staying on top of all of it has gotten harder and harder. Tonight, trying to get the kids into bed, I blew up a bit, so pushed to the limit was I by some of this house and stuff management. 60% of the family ended up in tears. I'm not proud of this moment. I've already made my apologies. But it happened.

But why did it happen today? And not yesterday? Or tomorrow? Or Thursday? Why today?

All day I've been avioding the news media and even Facebook to a certain extent. All the posts by my friends and acquaintances about how much they love their moms and she's their best friend and all the gushing? Well, I kinda don't get it. Mom and I aren't close (I, uh, may have mentioned that here before), and even though I love her, there's a distinct distance, on both our parts. And then I feel guilty thinking that because I do know I'm lucky that my mom is still here with us. My husband lost his mother almost 23 years ago, and would love to have her healthy and available and part of our lives. Ditto with other friends.

The posts gushing about kids I get, but I wouldn't necessarily do something like that myself, especially on Mother's Day. Because I feel like such a screw up as a mom. I know my kids deserve so much better, and making such a grand statement on such a day feels weird. I think I feel like if I did that, it would be so laughed at. Like others would say, "What a joke! Her! Trying to claim some credibilty!"

The build up to this day by advertisers has become just unreal. It's like three weeks of in my face of how I don't have a Hallmark relationship with the one who gave me birth. I don't begrudge all of you who do. I don't! But could we all just step it down a couple notches? Please? And it's giving my kids this ridiculous idea that they have to go over the top for it to be a "good" Mother's Day. Mother's Day or not there are still dishes to be done, laundry to fold, floors to sweep -- and teenage boys who strew their socks all over the house, pre-teen boys who argue at the drop of a hat and tease their little sisters, and seven year old girls who don't want to eat their dinners but still want ice cream and dissolve into serious tears if she can't find a specific stuffed toy among the gazillion in her room.

My mom happened to call earlier this week. I swear here voice was overly perky, like she had to psyche herself up to call me. She called to tell me she'd been to a performance by the local ballet company (I'd given her a gift certificate for her birthday). She had a nice time, which was nice to hear. She also talked about she might finally have convinved my cousin and her family to come visit her, as she's been asking them to come out for years (her emphasis, not mine) and how said cousin's daughter loves to hear about the local sites. You know how often my mother has expressed a desire for me and/or my family come visit? Zero.

So, yeah, I have some ambivalence about this day. Which makes it a little more understandable why I lost my shit today instead of yesterday or tomorrow. I still wish it hadn't happened.

Bad mommy.

An Actual Exchange of Text Messages

Let's revisit this sister crap, shall we?

Since I last discussed the issue, I sent my sister a birthday gift (she ignored my birthday). She returned the package unopened. (S very sweetly responded, "You should send her a note and say that it wasn't nice of her to do that.")

I called her to ask why she did that. She screamed at me. Something about how she was in therapy because of me and that I still need address what I'm doing to her. (Present tense noted.)

I responded asking what was I doing to her? I'm just living my life.

Then she hung up.

I had a discussion with hubby about the contact she's been making with C via Facebook, and if she's unwilling to have a basic relationship with us, is it appropriate for her to be contacting the kids, give them gifts, etc? We're very much wavering on that. But I don't feel comfortable with feeling like she's going behind my back to talk to my kids.

Today a package arrived for "The _________ Children: C, M & S"

So I sent my sister the following text message

Me: I have concerns about you sending things to my children while refusing a relationship with me. I'd like to try to work this out with you. I understand you are angry at me. I've been angry at you, too. But you are still my sister and I still love you. Let's try to resolve this. Please?

A few minutes later the reply came:

A: With the attitude that it is still all about you -- i'm not ready -- maybe after a few thousand dollars of more therapy about you I might be.

I then sent the following two texts:

Me: Huh? What attitude? I am trying to reach out to you for the sake of each of us and our families. Could we please talk?

Me: Please call me. We lead vastly different lives and have made very different life choices. I would like to understand how what I do 3000 miles away affects your life so deeply.

And...nothing from her.

For years I've known what the basic issues are with her:

1. I was born
   
2. I had a decent relationship with Dad (though still very complex). She like to claim I was Dad's favorite. I think we grew up in very different households with parents at very different stages of life and parenting.
   
3. I did well in school and went to a decent college. That *was* totally calculated on my part, though it had nothing to do with her, because...
   
4. I left AZ and stayed away. She has long said she hates AZ and always wanted to leave. But didn't in the end.
   
5. I've had some professional success [despite current unemployment status]. I think the book thing has thrown her over the edge. She can't see that I had to *work* for all that.
   
6. I have a mostly happy and functional marriage. Yup, i do. And proud of it.
   
7. I have a daughter. She didn't even choose boys' names with her first two pregnancies, and I remember the call when she found out #3 was a boy, too. It wasn't a happy call.
   
8. I'm sure there's more.

But now it's just exploded, apparently. I'm alternately amused and horrified that she ascribes so much power to me. I don't want it! I refuse it!

I refuse to take responsibility for the choices my sister has made in her life. While it apparently has yet to happen, she needs to accept responsibility for her own life. Her choices, the consequences thereof, and her future happiness. But this situation *is* hurtful to me. As much of a nutcase as she is, she's still my sister.

I talked with hubby about the package received and the text exchange. We agreed to accept these gifts. But we also agreed that we needed to open them to look at them to make sure they were okay. One gift (to M) was completely inappropriate for an 11 year old and C's gift was FAR more expensive than M's or S's. For someone for whom "favoritism" is an issue, she appears to be playing favorites with my kids. Ironic, no?

I'll send off the gifts for her kids. Trying to decide what to do about the gifts for her and her husband. And her birthday gift which still sits next to me. Send them to my mom's house perhaps? I don't know if that's the right thing to do.

At any rate, the saga continues.

Today in Suburban Irony and Ignorance

I've got two for you today.

First story

The other day, an acquaintance and Facebook "friend", joined the Facebook cause, "Stop Obama from changing the National Christmas Tree to the Holiday Tree."

I rolled my eyes. We all know this is bull. (We do all know it, right? Because if you don't know it, you should definitely click the link that follows.) I wasn't feeling in an "ignore it" mood, so I took the opportunity to look up the relevant facts on PolitiFact and posted the following comment to her Profile page. I edited myself several time to aim for the most calm response to this ridiculousness that I could muster.

"Hi, A__ - This background might be interesting to you. Politifact.com is a great resource for sorting out fact from fiction. The site won the Pulitzer Prize in 2009."

And I gave her this link:

Chain email claims Obamas plan to change holiday tradition

A replied:

"Thank you for sending this, at least I know its not true...I cant stand all this HOLIDAY stuff...it is CHRISTMAS and we should embrace it!! Hope all is well...:)"

Fine and dandy. I made my point, figured I'd drop it from here.

In today's mail, we received A's family Christmas card. What do you think it said across the top? Merry Christmas? Nope. It reads "Season's Greetings" across the top and "Happy Holidays from the K_____ family."

Um.....

Second Story

C's closest friend is M. M used to live across the street from us and M's dad is my kids' pediatrician. We always knew Dr. H was a tad more conservative than us, but the extent is only now becoming clear. It's never mattered much because we get along fine - we just don't talk politics.

Anyway, M is a very smart boy and has mostly stellar grades, is a mostly nice kid, etc. While we suspect Dr. H rides M HARD with expectation, M *is* smart. Well, mostly. In a very book-smart sort of way.

Dr. H, it turns out, is FOX/FAUX news watcher. He has also told M - and M believes him - that FOX/FAUX news is "liberal." We got a good laugh out of that. C tries to tell him differently, but M resists. If FOX/FAUX is "liberal" I don't want to know their definition of "conservative!" Whatever.

C and M are in 7 of 8 classes together. In the last several weeks, their english class has been reading parts of the bible from a literary standpoint. Mostly Old Testament. Apparently this exchange occured a couple days ago:

M: "I feel bad for the Jewish kids in school having to read the bible. It doesn't seem fair."

C: "Uh, M, the Old Testament is the Torah. Well, some of it is anyway. It's okay."

M: "No it's not."

C: "Yes it is."

M: "No, it's not. Next thing you're going to tell me they worship the same God as Christians do.

C: "Dude, they do!"

M: "No, they don't! It's a completely different religion!"

C: "Dude, they do. Jews came first. Christians came from Judaism. Same God. Muslims, too."

M: "Nuh-uh! You're lying. You're so wrong."

And apparently it went from there. C says M still doesn't believe him. Props to M actually thinking about those in another religion - but that's about it. (Major pride in my C, however.)

And that's the day in Suburban Irony and Ignorance...

This is Social Networking

Today I had a very humorous experience on Tw*tter. Bear with me, please, while I try to tell the tale. (And no, I did not get a job via Tw*tter - job search is a whole 'nother can of worms right now.) Just yesterday, I was trying to adequately describe Tw*tter to someone, and failing miserably. I realized several times in the last 24 hours details I should have mentioned. K, this is for you.

I have two Tw*tter feeds. One some of you know, the other you likely do not. One is more personal and local and political, the other more professional and sometimes more vanilla (more effort NOT to offend, I guess). I follow different people on each, and they each have their role. It can be confusing at times, sure, but I seem to be managing it thus far.

On the more "professional" feed, the one I set up to promote the writing a do for a website, I follow some food-related feeds, some mommy-blogger-like feeds, and so on. Keep that info in the back of your head while I go on to more back story. (Thanks.)

When the hubster and I lived a state away, while he was finishing his graduate degree, we went out to dinner maybe once every three months or so. The nature of the bank account an all that. But when we did go out, we were fortunate to have some decent restaurants from which to choose, at not horrible prices. The legacy of the former location of the Culinary Institute of America, actually.

In spite of this infrequent dining out, we did manage to cultivate a relationship with one restaurant and eventually were invited to a special wine tasting dinner. We splurged and went. And it was absolutely delicious. Wine, food, all of it. This is 1993 or 1994, mind you.

The wine being featured that evening was from this winery, and thus we were introduced to a very distinctive vineyard, with a very distinctive winemaker. From that point on, we sought out wines from this vineyard when we could and we visited the vineyard on a trip out west. We received newsletters and tried to promote them to friends when appropriate. When we moved here, hubby secured for me, as a gift, a subscription to their very special wine club. For several years, four times a year, we'd receive limited edition wines. Oh, they were so good. ARE so good. Just had one at Thanksgiving! But then laws caught up and the vineyard was no longer allowed to ship into this state. Alas.

Seriously, alas! I remain bummed on a regular basis that I can't get most of this stuff!

Anyway, this afternoon, on Tw*tter, a post from one feed I follow mentioned screwcap wine and what's that all about?

Well.

As a follower of this vineyard, I know that the Stelvin closure (aka screw cap) is really the preferred way to seal a bottle of wine instead of a cork for many reasons. I followed the cork funeral in 2002, and have happily unscrewed wine from the favored vineyard whenever possible (and even though they sold the brand of a couple of our favorite of favorites to another entity a few years ago - the Stelvin remains on those bottles).

So I posted a tweet about how my fave vineyard has been promoting Stelvins for years! YEARS! Then I posted a follow up with a link to some writing about the cork funeral mentioned above.

In the next forty minutes or so, my feed was followed by the vineyard...and the vineyard's more than a little esoteric winemaker. And then the winemaker -- the guy who started this whole thing -- direct messaged me thanking me for my comments about screwcaps. A guy whose work I have admired from afar for almost two decades sent me a personal message.

Damn.

People, this is social networking. Awesome.

Please, unscrew a bottle of wine tonight. And think of the power of the 'net.

It's Hard to be Hated

Yesterday, this man announced his retirement. Part of his reason for retiring in a couple of years is that the experience has taken a toll on his family. I am sad for him, for the church, for the people he served. He was always such an example of gentleness and grace. Still is, actually.

Then I read the comments on the online version of the story. I shouldn't have. No wonder the guy is bailing out -- and what I read was mild, I'm sure, compared to the vile comments thrown at the guy for the last seven years. But it was still nasty. Being hated takes it's toll.

See, I've been hated. There's a situation in my life about which I have not written here (and won't begin to give details in any way now) and in that situation, I am hated. I've had anger and deep, deep negativity thrown at me for about 20 years now. And even though the anger and hatred really isn't about me, it affects me. It affects my family. (Kinda like how layoffs aren't personal, but they sure affect me personally.) Yes, I made mistakes in managing this situation, especially early on, but I don't think I deserve -- or my family deserves -- to be treated like this.

I try to keep my head up and stay positive when the nastiness gets thrown my way, or questions about the situation arise from various quarters, answering as honestly as I can without getting to emotional or specific. Actually I try not to think about it, or think about it as a simple circumstance of our life when it does bubble up. True, there hasn't been any kind of incident in several years, but it's still there, in so many subtle and not so subtle ways. As the holidays approach, the issue feels closer to the surface.

Anyway, the point is, as vastly different as the two situations are, I understand (as much as I can given the disparity), that it's hard to be hated. It's just plain hard.

Disproportionate Growth

M's annual cardiology appointment was today. It didn't go quite as well as I hoped.

I'm nervous every year for this. We like to say that if you're going to have a heart defect, M's is a pretty good one to have. But it still doesn't make it easy or okay. I wish I didn't know the routine at the pediatric cardiology office so well.

We've known it would be likely that M would have to go on meds at some point. We knew there was a real possibility that the growth of his aorta would be disproportionate to the growth of the rest of his body. We hoped we'd at least get to a teen year before that was necessary. But we got that news today, when he's just 11.

He's still okay - more than okay - on a daily basis. He can still do most of what he wants to do. But his aorta is getting too big compared to the rest of him, and we need to do what we can to keep that in check. That means blood pressure lowering medications - even though his blood pressure is relatively low anyway. And we don't know for sure that this will work.

We do know that if his growth continues on this path - that is, disproportionately - he'll be at increased risk for aortic rupture. The numbers say we are about halfway to surgery.

I know meds are better than surgery. But I admit I had a moment where I wondered, don't we get a pass? After C's health crisis, aren't we done? But I know we aren't immune from anything. Just because we endured one crisis doesn't mean we won't have more.

And even with meds, M will still need a valve replacement one day. The ultrasound showed clearly how misshapen his aorta and the valves are. What should be round with three leaves...isn't. It's striking, really, even to the untrained eye.

The whole focus is, of course, keeping M as normal a boy as possible. He's concerned about being able to sail in the summers, play soccer in the fall and play baseball in the spring. He'll still be able to do all that, at least for now. I know we're lucky. I know it could be so much worse. I do.

But still.

The Insanity of Sanity

We road-tripped to our nation's capital this weekend for the comedian-led-but-really-quite-serious political rally. It was mostly good. I'm glad we went, even though the driving was long, and the teenager...very much a teenager.

We drove down Friday night (after an interesting soccer game for C...been a long time since I've been called "Toots" by an insecure, and obviously poorly-endowed middle aged man -- but that's a story for another time) and arrived 2AM Saturday at a friend's house. We didn't get up too late in the morning, but needed to be a little social before heading out the door again!

When we finally made our way to the local train station to get into the district we had our first clue of how crowded the event would be. To use the same oft-used, ironic description of the event, it was INSANE. Just getting fare cards! There we started to see some of the awesome signs, however, and costumes.

When we finally got onto a train, we were crammed in like sardines. Truly. Sardines. I held on tight to S's hand and hubby kept close to C and M. We all finally made it downtown but the preshow had long since started while we waited in line to get OUT of the train station. While waiting to get out we saw the 3rd or 100th person dressed like the extreme Senate candidate from Delaware -- but this one had props. She pulled out a clear lucite lighted v*br*t*r from a protective felt bag and showed it off.

There were so many people walking to the event area, and, once there, there were even more. It's a bigger crowd than I've been in since the January 1993 innuaguration. We spent a few minutes trying to figure out where, if anywhere!, we could actually get to someplace to see something, and it was pretty impossible. There were people in and on every possible crevice and surface, including on top of the port-a-potties. For real! We all started to feel a little overwhemed by the crowd and made our way to the steps of the national archives to just sit and regroup and get something to eat (even though vendors were running out of food). We were able to hear precious little of what was going on on-stage - but did catch the strains of Ozzy Osbourne.

THe people-watching, however, was terrific. Sure, there were some signs we discouraged the youngest among us from sounding out, and a couple similar costumes (directing the kids to look elsewhere), but mostly it was a fun, respectful, nice crowd. There were all ages and most colors. After a while, the insolent teenager (having texted how awful this was to all his friends back home) asked if we could try to get on the mall. Sure.

I really don't think anyone anticipated there would be that many people who would go. The permit are was about four blocks of the mall -- large blocks, mind you, completely open -- and we couldn't get onto the mall for another five blocks behind that. The side streets were completely jammed.

But we did make it close enough to hear the closing address. It was a serious message and our polical leaders would do well not to dismiss it. Especially with the size of the crowd there to support the message.

When the rally was over, we stayed put for a while. We talked with people. We observed attendees picking up trash with garbage bags brought from home - and not just their own trash. Yeah, I know this was mentioned at the start of the rally, but people were seriously out to be...reasonable. And nice. It was cool.

After half an hour we made our way through still-big crowds to one of the museums to kill some time before trying to hit the train home. We waited until after five before trying to get to a station...and were once again packed in like sardines on the train-ride home.

Was it worth it? I think so. There's more I want to say about it, but I am still processing much of it. I'll depend on some revisionism by my kids when they think back to this - C said it "sucked" and yeah, it wasn't what we expected/hoped for, but I think the bigger message came through. I think going to this was about more than the actual event.

Plus we got the kids home for trick-or-treating.

Parenting criticism from non-parents

It's happened again. That early 20s nephew -- whom I love -- has criticized my parenting. Most specifically, around all tht stuff that happened with my sister in August. He with his stellar, stable upbringing and vast experience. Good gracious. I should just let it go, and I'm trying to, but...sheesh.

He called last week to wish M a happy birthday, and thought he could get away with talking to me like I was M's secretary. Um, no.

Among the terrific moments in our conversation:

• He accused me of going to his parents house that night, the last night of our vacation, to "start shit." Um, no. I went for dinner. His mom is the one who brought the whole thing up. I wanted to have dinner and hopefully an enjoyable last night of our vacation. Given that I was coming home to unemployment and was stressed enough about that and getting the kids settled in a new school year, a blowout with my sister was not on my to do list.
  
  
• He accused me of not being able to let things go. This is so laughable. Yes, there are some things I've written about and "held onto" but the vast number of crap and utterly ridiculous things my sister has done/said over the years I have let pass (and use as fodder for "sister stories" among my friends). Hell, I was trying to let go of the issue when I went there that evening - and she brought it up.
  
  
• He made some weird comments about my parenting "beliefs." He said, "You even wrote a book about your beliefs." It will be interesting what his reaction is if and when he ever actually reads what I wrote. The book is light early-parenthood reading, not a manifesto.
  
  
• After describing a couple of my reasons for holding C back, he said it was unfair for me to hold one or two unfortunate incidents against my sister. If there had been just one or two "unfortunate incidents," I'd likely agree with him. There are, however, too many to count. I said I had reasons of which I hoped he never knows details -- and that's the honest truth. I hope he never knows about the affairs, among other things.
  
  
• He talked about how his mom always told them about the fun she'd have with cousins, the adventures they'd have, and he wants that same relationship with his cousins. I appreciate the sentiment - but that's total revisionism on my sister's part. I can count on one hand the number of times there were such opportunties with cousins on my mom's side (and there'd be fingers left over) and the cousins on my dad's side? Well...there are two who have long standing drug and legal problems and we were not allowed to spend time with them without adults, and the other is much younger than my sister, so my sister would occasionally go over and look after her for a weekend when my aunt and her (7th) husband went away. Totally not the kind of fun my nephew is thinking about.

I'm feeling far more bothered about this than I have been about the actual blowout with my sister. I understand that his view is a bit skewed as he tries to hold on to some semblance of a normal mother -- even though he calls me when he has blowout with her. But since I have tried to be there for him when she has her meltdowns and stops talking to him, I admit I did hope for a little understanding. It was and is probably unfair for me to hope for that from him, her son, and I am trying to learn my lesson there. And just be available the next time the two of them have one of their blowouts.

Oh well.

The Next Phase

It took C years to come to terms with his scar and what it meant. When, finally, he told me he wasn't embarrassed about it anymore, that was a huge step. Being willing to take off his shirt at the beach was another huge step, one even noted by his pediatrician.

We have now reached the next phase: using the scar to his advantage.

Soccer season is winding to a close. The coach has given the kids occasional days off from practice (which were every day after school). A couple times he's told the kids no practice, only to decide at the last minute he would hold practice after all.

This happened yesterday. C figured he'd take the bus home and I'd drive him back to school with his stuff for practice (that he assumes that since I am currently unemployed I'm now his chauffeur, at his beck and call at all times is another issue for another time). However, I was at a school meeting and not available for this. We had a text message conversation that I would be there as soon as I could, and if he didn't make it, I'd write a note to the coach.

His response: "That's OK. I can just tell him I got a flu shot. And if he somehow remembers that I already got one, I'll tell him I need two and show him my scar."

I couldn't help but laugh. I feel confident he's already used the scar to garner some attention from the girls..

Oh, the Irony

Today one of my favorite bloggers notes the release of a calendar for 2011 of "Great Conservative American Women." I really want to put a "(sic)" after "Great."

What is making me cringe the most is the ad copy that introduces a theme for each month, including, "Fight Feminism in March" (And, admittedly, I don't know who the March person is!)

Um, excuse me, but were it not for feminism, the majority of the women on this calendar would not be able to do what they do today. Do you really think the female politicians and pundits would be allowed, even encouraged to do what they do today were it not for the trailblazing of the liberal feminists of the 60s and 70s whom they so deride? Not a chance. Were it not for the inner fight and determination of the people these women fight against, they would all be June's representative - and have no other choice in the matter.

What are you going to do?

There's been a rash of head injuries in our town recently. Just yesterday, at a soccer game in a neighboring town, two of our town's soccer players received head injuries due to hard, intentional fouls by the other team. One also cracked five ribs, and for the other, it was his 3rd head injury in 18 months. No more contact sports for that kid, period. (And, of course, the ref, contracted by the other team, "didn't see" the fouls. Convenient, that.)

It got me thinking about another friend of C's who had a bad concussion last winter in a hockey game. This nice, nice kid had issues with short term memory, headaches, and all the other classic signs. Several weeks after the initial injury, and after a couple CT scans, he was still having headaches and other symptoms.

Around that time, this boy invited C and a few others to go out to the movies. After dropping off C at the theater, I ran into the mom in the parking lot and we got to chatting. I asked about the boy's recovery and the mom told me that it was up and down. Then she told me that the doctor had said the boy should not watch a lot of TV, read any more than necessary, and basically try to avoid much visual stimulation. I was kinda floored as she'd just dropped him at a movie theater, and then she added, "But what are you going to do?"

Um....

She said she got tired of the boy's complaints and caved. I know I shouldn't sit in judgment until I've actually lived her life, but I wanted to scream right there, "What are you going to do? You are going to go get him from that movie theater and take him home and put him in a dark room with soothing music or books on tape for as long as it takes!" But I didn't.

I guess I feel entitled to say this given the experience I have had parenting a critically ill child, but I would absolutely follow doctors orders. It might be hard - on both of us - but, sheesh! As the parent you sometimes have to do the hard thing.

I hope we never have to deal with the head injury issue. Please oh please let us have had our fill of crisis! But should it happen, I know what I am going to do.

How much has she been drinking?

A couple of days ago I was trying to write something about women in the workplace and how we've come so far - and yet haven't. My husband's aunt faced a similar work situation 32 years ago: she'd been working happily part time, a new manager came in, decided part-time didn't work and pushed her out of her job. Deja vu! At any rate, what I was writing wasn't coming together. It remains in fragments.

This evening comes word that the wife of a fairly notorious Supreme Court Justice has contacted a woman who testified at that Justice's confirmation - and asked her for an apology. (Read the comments - some are really funny in that sick humor sort of way. And all the ones that note the grammatical error.)

When I saw the news come up on my screen, I told my husband about it and his first response was, "How much has she (the wife) been drinking?" I thought that summed it up pretty well. But there are, obviously, deeper issues.

This wife has been in the news recently anyway. She has become active in some lobbying efforts and questions have been raised about the ethics of her activities. The recipient of the call has led a mostly quiet life since those confirmation hearings years ago. She's now a law professor.

The news did get me thinking about that whole event. The confirmation hearing, the testimony, the controversy - and the arguments I had over it with my dad.

It really doesn't matter to me where you come down on that whole issue. I will tell you now that I believed the professor. Surprise, surprise, my father believed the judge.

I mostly think that my father's belief had to do with his stubborn loyalty to the Republican party - though that wavered just slightly in following years when he realized that his beloved GOP wouldn't support the research that might slow his Parkinson's disease (typical scenario, yes, of believing in something until it actually affects you personally) - and his inherent optimism and belief that people are good and will always do the right thing. The later was both an endearing and infuriating quality. You'd think his years on the bench and what he saw during that tenure would have changed that, but no.

At any rate, we argued over this. I remember one conversation in particular. He was sure that in several of the testified incidents that the good judge was just joking, and the young woman (now professor) was just too sensitive and misunderstood. No harm done!

Well. At the time of these confirmation hearings, sexual harassment in the workplace was pretty well entrenched. I was "checked out," as it were, on numerous job interviews, and regularly at this one job. I was adept at dressing work-appropriate but not slimey-VP-attractive for that job. My college classmates regularly went to interviews where young male associates of whatever firm "interviewed" them, but rarely seriously considered them. Then they received letters saying things like, "Successful applicants to Goldman Sachs will be able to type 80 words per minute..." I'm not joking.

Just because it was entrenched - and, yes, likely improving over what it had been - doesn't mean it was right. It was certain of that, and told my father so. It's not about joking, I told him, but about feeling like an sexual object when I was supposedly hired for my mind. I then informed him of the ways in which I had been sexually harassed in the workplace and discriminated against because of my gender. I offered several specific examples from my then short work experience. I offered that every woman I knew had been harassed in some way, including his other daughter, his ex-wife, his girlfriends, and so on (this was before the step-bitch arrived on the scene). I didn't need to know the details, I just knew they had been. We all had been.

I think he was pretty shocked by what I told him. It's different when it's your daughter being treated in that way. I think it opened his mind a little to what some of the bigger issues were for women watching those confirmation hearings, though it did not change his view that the judge should be confirmed (which he was). It was another one of those topics about which we never spoke again.

But it ties back, in some ways, to what I was trying to write about a couple days ago. How we've come so far in the work force - yet, not. Two women get pushed out of jobs in very similar scenarios 32 years apart. Sexual harassment and discrimination still happens at an alarming rate. I'd even say it's on the rise right now as employers take advantage of anxious workers in a down economy. Women - including moms like me - still have to do battle to stay employed. We are paid less, diminished, and all that...and yet some of the most amazing, smartest, innovative, hardest working people I know are women and moms. The business world is losing out on so much of that. Why? What are they afraid of?

And now, in this climate Ginny Thomas wants Anita Hill to apologize.

No.

Adventures in Parenting a Teenager

I recently wrote a short piece on transitioning a child into a new preschool for another project. It talked about acknowledging your child's different experience base, and gave some ideas for making the transition, among other things. By the time we've transitioned our kids into preschool, then kindergarten, then 1st grade, and on through the lower elementary years, we're transitioned out. We know, on some level, that whatever transition is going to be okay in the end - and so as the kids get older we tend to think of transition issues, as such, less and less.

Especially if, for example, you teenager's transition to high school means walking across the street to a different building he already knows and interacting with pretty much the same kids he's been interacting with for the last 9 years. No biggie, right?

Well, wrong, actually.

Turns out the transition to high school - even if it is across the street and with the same kids - can be a challenge. There is more work, more pressure, and mentally, it's a shift.

C is a smart boy. I'm not just saying that because he's my kid. His standardized test scores are high. His grades are good - very good, really. He has a certain awareness of his own mortality and the world that other kids his age tend not to have, probably because of his illness. But that awareness doesn't always translate into maturity.

Here's what happened:

We had to pull C from the freshman boys soccer team this week. We hope it's just for a few days, that things can come back together and he can go back. His coach was totally supportive of this decision and says he is welcome back when he is ready.

I'd been sensing something the last couple of weeks. Nothing I could absolutely put my finger on, but something. Then, last week, C didn't take the dog out or give her water for a full 24 hours, then lied about it. We pulled back on privileges and took the iPod. After that, progress reports came home, and his grades in a couple classes were lower than they could/should have been due to missing homework. The work and tests that were turned it were great - but there was stuff plain missing. We talked about it and formed a plan to address such issues. But when he called me from school asking me to bring his soccer uniform because he forgot there was a game, and I found that uniform in smelly pile partially hidden in the study, somehow it all clicked. This is off, I thought, and he needs help managing this transition. Not just the school work or the dog or other soccer laundry, but all of it.

I called my hubby and he agreed that pulling him from soccer for a bit was the right thing to do. Get the priorities back on track, then add the extra back in if we can. But I was nervous. I knew C would feel embarrassed, so I knew I had to do this quickly, minimizing the impact in front of his peers.

I went to the soccer field, talked to his coach. The coach was great, agreed with me, we called C over, and told him. To C's credit, he did not show any dramatics at the field. He just picked up his stuff and came with me. There was no adolescent tantrum in the car, no telling me how unfair it was, no arguing. I think, in fact, he was kind of relieved. He apologized, and said he knew he needed to take responsibility for these things.

Later than night, C and I talked again about the situation and why I made the decision I did. C agreed that he needed to get a better system under control for meeting his basic obligations, and hoped to go back to the soccer team soon. We talked about stress and how high school feels much more stressful, like the teachers don't really care whether you succeed or fail. I tried to reassure him that while that is not exactly true, that what definitely is different is the push by teachers to have the kids take more personal responsibility for their work. We talked a little more about talking to us when he feels overwhelmed so we can help him prioritize and strategize.

When I think about how much stress is put on teenagers today, it's no wonder some crack! They are just kids - often very little kids in very big bodies - but the pressures and the expectation are high. I think this transition for C is something we'll have to keep a real finger on, make sure it's working, so that he doesn't crack. As I said, he's a smart kid. I feel confident that he can do all of this - the school work and the soccer and the band and home responsibilities - but he needs the right support. Figuring that appropriate level of support is going to fall to me. I hope I get it right.

(As an aside, after pulling C from the team, I talked to my friend the school committee member - the one whom I helped get elected. She has a 10th grader going through some drama right now, we we've been comparing some notes. When I told her what had transpired she said, "You're probably the first parent in the history of this town to do that. I bet the coach was shocked." I chuckled. She continued, "No, really. Kids get benched for bad grades all the time and parents complain and moan and blame the school, but you are the first parent I have ever heard of who has taken their kid off a team for academic-related issues. I think you did the right thing." I was flattered to hear that last part, but was sort of taken aback to hear that I was the only parent she had known to do this. I don't know what that says about the parents in this town - but if it says what I think is says, what I probably already know from previous school-related dealings, God help us. As another friend once remarked, "This isn't the 'Age of Enlightenment,' it's the 'Age of Entitlement.'")

I Suppose I Should Tell You What Happened With My Sister

(Hold on, this is a long one)

So. The trip out west. And the sister blowout after which she is not speaking to me.

It really starts years and years ago. Don't all such situations start well in advance of the actual "event?" But I don't know exactly when it started.

It could have been when C was a baby and she came out for a few days to "help" - which consisted of her spending the morning criticizing my new parenting, then taking the T into the city for a few ours, coming back mid evening drunk, reeking of cigarette smoke, telling us about the cute sailor she met at a bar and then wanting to hold the baby. Um, no.

Maybe it started when DH and I got married and she pitched a fit because I didn't want to get acrylic nails. I've never been much of a manicure person and there was really no time in the day before. No matter. It pissed her off so much that, instead of driving to the B&B where I was staying and hosting breakfast, as agreed, so I had a ride to the church, as agreed, she had her husband drop her and my dad off. When asked where the car was, she gave me a shit-eating grin and said, "It's not here and (her husband) is not coming back."

Maybe it started when C was a baby and we went out to visit, spent most of the time cleaning out a storage space of my dad's that she had been asked for MONTHS to clean out, and then she demanded a cut of the couple furniture items we had sold. On that same trip, we went to dinner with her and two of her sons (11 and 4 at the time), and learned much about how not to parent. The boys started acting out immediately upon arrival at the restaurant, and my sister started trying to get them to stop by saying, "If you don't stop, we're leaving." Did they stop? No. Did she make them all leave? Of course not. After a little while, it turned to, "If you stop I'll pay you a dollar." They never did stop.

Maybe it started after my sister bit me.

Maybe it was the way my sister stopped speaking to me after C was sick. You know, because I was so insensitive to how worried she was. As if I didn't have a few other challenges right in my face.

Or the other times she's stopped talking to me for God knows why.

Maybe it started a lot of times. Who the hell knows.

And now has "Annoying My Sister" listed on her "Interests" in Facebook. No, really. I have screen shot of it. I'll have to dig it out. (I mention that level of maturity here and here.)

It probably most directly started two years ago. My sister's youngest son, my nephew, CS, requested that for his 16th birthday, my C be allowed to fly out there for a week to spend time with them over the summer. Sounds so benign. But in addition to scheduling challenges (we weren't out of school until late June, they start school mid August, C's sailing schedule, their extensive vacation schedule), there were these considerations:

1. C, at that point, had successfully spent the night away from home exactly once. He's a homebody. To send him 3000 miles away for a full week didn't seem realistic.

2. My sister's complete lack of appropriate home environment. My sister stays up to 3 or 4 in the morning most nights, playing Euchre with her ex-boyfriend's wife and other odd characters, maintaining no consistency of routine for her kids. Well, just the one kid left. She and her husband regularly play that kid off one another.

3. CS, the nephew, is mostly a good kid deep down, or will be. But right now he's a snarky, entitled brat. A couple of friends have had encounters with him on Facebook and can vouch for this.

4. I know other things that have gone on in that house. The value system - the affairs, for example - don't sit well for me.

5. You can't count on her in a big or little. (One of many examples: In 1999, Hurricaine Floyd was about to hit North Carolina, where we lived at the time. I was pregnant with M. I spent two days looking for batteries - we needed some backup D batteries for flashlights. I'd been beaten to them at every store. I finally called my sister as a last resort. I begged her to overnight some D batteries. Begged her. She said okay. I caller her later than day to make sure she'd put them in the mail. She hesitantly said yes. I should have known. The batteries never arrived the next day. I called her. She said, oops, she'd accidentally overnight-ed them to herself. Uh huh.)

This wasn't exactly a situation that felt comfortable to me. I said no.

My sister sent me a letter telling me how selfish I was and how much I hurt her and CS by not letting my son go. And how rude I was for giving him an actual gift late. My oldest nephew (CW), got into it, too. Yeah, a 23 year old started telling me how to parent. (A couple summers ago, when CW was interning for the summer out here, we'd let C spend a bit of time with CW. At 21 I finally felt he's gained a little maturity. Even so, consistently, for two days after spending time with CW, my C would have a nasty, snarky attitude toward the rest of us)

(I should also mention that that summer with CW, and the previous summer when CW went to an internship in anther city, my sister threw a scene each night before he left, threatening to kill herself, and all sort of other dramatics. Each time, CW almost missed flights. But I suppose that was her point in the end. And she wonders why her two oldest don't want to spend time at home.)

Anyway. This trip.

We got out there on a Friday. CW and CS came over to the hotel that afternoon to swim, and we were all to meet at a pizza place that night (one for which I had to make reservations a month in advance). CW asked for my C to spend the night. I said no. My reasoning on this was simple: we had been up since 2AM local time, C was tired, and their house would not be an environment in which he'd get to sleep at a reasonable time - and he can be a real bear to deal with when he's that tired. At any rate, we go to dinner. My sister and her husband show up late and fighting. CW is stressed. CS is a teenager, and not in a good way.

I might have considered letting C spend the night the next night, but it wasn't offered. That afternoon we went to a cool Mexican restaurant, and back to my sister's house for some dessert. CS does not join us - busy with friends. But we do finally see the other nephew, CL who had been at work. He's heading back to college the next day.

The vacation week continues. We see my brother and his kids, my mom, we go to California and have a great time.

Meanwhile my sister posts this passive-aggressive Facebook update about how "wonderful" it is to see all of us. Her friends totally catch on, and the comments are, "Like Texas?" (where her in-laws live and where she complains about going *all the time*) and "(snicker)."

Back in town the next weekend, we see my sister and her husband on Friday night, and make plans for Saturday. (No CS - I note that because there were plenty of time for CS to spend time with C, and maybe even build up some trust with me, and those chances weren't taken.)

CS wants my C to go off with he and his friends. They say they are going to do a slip-n-slide at some park. Um. Slip-n-slide at some park? With what water? This is Arizona? Everyone needs to bring a gallon of water. With what kids? Just friends. My sister can't give me names. She doesn't know. CS is 2 1/2 years older than C, and it's enough of a difference that I'm uncomfortable about judgment and exposure. And that no one can tell me who these kids are - that I'm just supposed to trust a nephew (just because he's a nephew) who has declined to spend much time with us and is really snarky in general. It doesn't feel right to me, and we have plans with my mom (whom my sister treats *terribly*) to go to the art museum anyway.

Yes, I am the mean mom and I say no. I use the excuse of one of my favorite local laws about teen drivers: For the first year of driving, teens here cannot drive groups of friends. I like that law. I go with it.

There are plans to go to my sister's house for dinner, however, and they include my mom. We pick up cupcakes from Sprinkles. We go.

We get there, everything seems fine. Well, as fine as it gets with my sister. CS comes home and my sister claims ignorance that my C wasn't with him. (I'm doubting more and more that she didn't know - I think, really, we were set up).

Then my sister says, "Okay, I'm going to say this and then we're not going to talk about it anymore. I am so hurt that you didn't let C go with CS. We are your family, too, and you should let C spend time with us."

It went on from there. She kept saying that she was just going to say it but we weren't going to talk about it. What the fuck? Why not? Well, aside from the fact that I could totally destroy her marriage with reasons why I wasn't comfortable with the situation. She is so committed to being the victim, the wounded party. It was all about how hurt she was, and what the right situation was for my C was beside the point.

I stood up and said, "I think we should go." My husband heard me, and said, "You think we should go? Okay."

Whoa! Big warning sign there. My husband, such an even keeled peacemaker kind of guy, wants to go. Turns out my sister's husband had been making snide comments about the situation in front of all the kids and DH in the next room.

Now there's a healthy house dynamic, don't you think.

A few more minutes of arguing - with me NOT saying the big things - ensued and we left.

My kids were upset and we had some long talks with them about what had happened and why we felt it necessary to leave. We didn't say we'd done the right thing (still don't know if we did, really), but expressed compassion for my sister and her family while reiterating that their physical and mental health and safety came first for us.

I called my sister-in-law and told her what happened. She totally agreed with me and understood. (My brother doesn't, but then he and my sister have always played the two of them against me. They are closer in age and their early experiences with our mom and dad are more similar, which may have something to do with it.)

We left town the next morning. No contact since. I don't know what happens next, if anything.

I don't know if I did the right thing by leaving that night. I felt like no matter what, that evening was shot, there would be comments and glares and all sorts of mature behavior on my sister's part. I just felt like we had to go, for our own sanity.

And there you have it.