Blog Bashing & Care Package Wars

Apparently as my children grow up and move out of the house they consider the best part of their new found independence to be the freedom from the tyranny of my blog.  They realize that the farther away from home they are the less likely they are to be embarrassed by the scandalous postings that oppressed them back at home. And now, apparently, they have each experienced the same earth shattering epiphany: they have discovered their own voice and have decided to turn on me with their own blogs!  Imagine that.

Recently Cheyenne posted incriminating photos on her blog of some silly motorcycle stunts I attempted in the yard.  Then just a few days ago, Mitchell, (who calls himself "Justin" because, well, that's really his name and he's decided to use it again) wondering why he hadn't gotten his first college care package from home yet, decided to take it to his new blog! Can you believe that!  My own children mocking me on their blog! What's a parent to do when that happens?

...Well if you're me, you'd wipe a sentimental tear from your glistening eyes and blush with pride!   Indeed, it was surely
a proud moment when I discovered my children have realized how fun it can be to pester loved ones with their very own blog!

So Mitchell's recent blog post gave me a virtual smack down--albeit a hilarious one, on not promptly sending my poor "homesick" child a care package. [Nice move son. Your most impressive literary work to date.]  A move which was sure to heap such unbearable parental guilt that it was sure to quickly garner him a prompt shipment of tasty goods. Well done!  A quick read of his post and it appears as though his room mate Taylor had a sweet and loving family back at home who missed him so dearly that they were kind enough to send him a trove of treats to show they cared. And poor Mitchell, he was left with an empty dorm room mailbox.
[cue sad music--perhaps, "Everybody Hurts" by REM]

His sinister scheme seems to have worked, since I quickly shipped him off a box of his favorite goodies; microwaveable brownies, hot Cheetos, and Rice Krispie treats (sorry no diet coke, I've discovered the hard way that it doesn't take well to shipping and handling):

Then I studied the photo featured on his blog of his room mate Taylor's care package and tried earnestly to send similar items,  
but with a more unique touch.

So instead of sending him a graphing calculator (any parent can do that), I decided to send him something that would make math more fun: Strawberry Shortcake Flash Cards...

Some unique school supplies like:

this giant eraser...

and instead of sending just an ordinary Popular Science magazine, I decided to mock up a special one just for my wiz-kid blogger of a son (click to enlarge):

His Roommate's Magazine:     Mitchell's Mock Magazine:

I also noticed Taylor's parents sent him a framed family portrait and thought I'd better send a family photo for Mitchell's desk too. But, of course, I just couldn't send a regular one:

Then, probably the most thoughtful and revered gift a college student could ever receive was lovingly placed inside his package:

Taco Bell Gift Cards

So there you have it.  Secret message received, care package sent!

Now...if I can just get the phone number for Taylor's parents so I can call them and insist they WARN me before they send another care package and spare me from being censured in another scandalous blog post by my pernicious progeny.

...Because that's supposed to be my job!

Shopping with Boys

Just a few days before school started I decided I'd better get serious about back-to-school shopping.  I'd put it off long enough,  which is a classic move on my part.  I always seem to wait to the very last minute to shop for school because I detest it so much. The reason?  This loathsome ritual is the horrific sign that the end of summer is near.  And while most parents loooove sending their kids back to school, I rather like having mine around and being free from school schedules that seem to get in the way of fun family adventures.

But school was just around the corner and some shopping needed to be done.

This year's Back-to-school shopping quest was quite different because I had no daughters with me--this time it was just the boys. Four of them in all.

• Mark (playing the part of 'mature parent')
• Nick (cast in a supporting role as 'helpful friend')
• Connor (playing 'the little brother' in this scenero)
• Mitchell (cast as the lead as the 'college bound student who is in desperate need of some new jeans').

• Oh yeah, and me (playing the part of 'woman perilously trapped shopping with F-O-U-R boys')

Our first stop was for, of course, for jeans.

No sooner had I zero-ed in on the size we were looking for and had forced Mitchell into a dressing room with a pile of pants to try on, I begin to hear a ruckus coming from somewhere in the store.  Naturally I ALREADY KNOW who's probably behind all the noise and I go to investigate. This is what I find:

Nick ('supportive friend') is outfitting Connor and making him pose with the store mannequins.  Mark ('mature parent') decides he's not letting Nick outfit him in real clothes but eventually agrees to try on the entire mannequin by posing behind the headless ones. By the time Mitchell found the right jeans Nick had Connor in several outfit combinations and paraded him around the store to pose by the remaining mannequins and scare the customers.

Then we were off to the shoe store.  How much trouble can you get in there??

The answer is:  A LOT.  We weren't even in the store for more than two minutes when this debacle happened:

The pairs that fit Mitchell's enormous feet were
a wee bit too high up for Mark to reach:

And instead of him smartly asking Nick

who stands at 6'4" and CAN reach the box...

 (apparently Nick was too busy trying to get Connor 
to try on the goofiest looking shoes in the store.)

...Mark just tugs at the lower ones...

Mark spilled the entire stack of shoes!  Unfortunately my stealthy i-phone camera skills didn't reach the crime scene in time to capture all the shoes that fell to the floor. Mark had managed to stuff a few back before I got there because he knew I'd be coming with my camera. [These folks have been blogged too many times to let their guard down anymore-dang it!]

I may not have gotten the optimal photo shot but I did get the last laugh...

When we went to buy the shoes, the lady at the checkout, with a scoffing look, loudly told all the boys that 'this is the very reason why, when customers buy a pair of shoes, we always check that both shoes are the same size.' 

[secret message received.] 

After that crazy outing I made the boys take me out for some chocolate.  It was while sitting there eating chocolatey goodness amidst a pile of shopping bags I realized that while our summer adventures may be over, I've learned that if I'm really in the mood for an escapade,  and school's still in, all I need to do is take a bunch of boys shopping...and bring my camera.  Almost as entertaining as a summer road trip.

Caution: Baby

Cheyenne and Kendra were here visiting recently and when that happens Aunty Chloe gets all excited and hogs all the baby holding time she can as if Kendra were her own personal American Girl Doll.  Chloe will hold her non-stop and only put her down to sleep. 

The other day I walked into my bedroom and found this:

Apparently when Chloe put her down for a nap on my bed, she was so worried that because Mark and I are now decrepit grandparents,  that our declining vision would obscure the fact that our granddaughter was asleep on our bed.  So she solved the problem by making us this nice sign.  A sign in large print no less.

Cautious Chloe--and a little life saved by a pink marker!

Bucket Boarding

A freakish summer rain came through in a deluge and dampened Connor's skateboarding plans until he decided on a simple way to stay dry...

That's a true Oregonian kid right there! Always prepared for rain.

Creepy Hand

Mitchell may have left for college, but his stuff hasn't.  And although most of his stuff got packed up and stacked into a large pile of boxes in the corner of his room, he left behind two bizarre things that I'm not quite sure what to do with.

Take for instance this thingamajig:

Seriously, what it that? Okay, I know it's a wired marker taped to a test strip bottle but what the heck is it for? Dare I hook it up to a "C" battery and find out? I'm not sure I'm brave enough to try.

Then there's this:

Yes, you're seeing it right, it's a creepy hand.  Mitch got it as a "bonus" after doing some I.T. work over the summer for a medical company that makes braces for things like knees, backs, ankles, wrists, etc.  And along with one of his final paychecks, he was ever so thoughtfully awarded with a foam hand. 

The thing is really creepy.  So, as you can imagine, that has made it a prized possession around our house.

This thing has revolutionized our lives.  Here's just a few ways this remarkable gift is so darn handy:

• A great way to safeguard your leftovers in the fridge.
• Giving a gentle nudge to wake the kids in the morning.
• Creepy bookmark.
• Easy way to pet a MEAN cat without having to risk touching it and getting scratched.

• Holds Chloe's nail polish while she paints her nails.
• Giving your reach an extra stretch by using it to hand your change through a drive-thru window. 

The thing has provided so much entertainment that we're glad Mitchell left it behind.  And it just might come in handy  
if and when we decide to hook up that bizarre wired-up thingamajig to a battery.

How To Pack a Plane

Well, it's official.  Mitchell has left for college.

And it seems all his stuff left for college too.  All of it.  His room is cleared out. Two computers, three monitors, an enormous computer parts collection, tools, a modem (yes, the modem that used to get us on the internet here at home), and a bunch of other electronic gizmo thingamajigs that I have no clue what they're called.

I think the only thing he left at home was his clothes. He had very little space in which to fit all his worldly possessions and I guess his clothes were less important.

Here you see what looks to be a moderate stash of treasured goods that Mitchell intends to take to college.  The small red duffel bag in the very back of the truck there--that's his clothes.  The rest of it is computer related.

And here's the space he has to transfer all his stuff to and fit somehow in this tiny airplane:

Mitchell's using his origami skills to make things fit...

If at first you don't succeed, take it apart and try try again...

hope nobody needs to move their seat back...

So somewhere out at a college near you, there's a naked freshman who brought all his electronics to school but had no room for his clothes.

Here's Mark and Mitchell taking off for school.  No room for me, the back seat was completely full.  Which left me on the tarmac taking video.

We're not sure if the wing tip was indeed an official "wing wave" or the overloaded plane having trouble with a takeoff. I'm betting on the latter...

Luckily they weren't so overloaded that they actually made it to campus.

...and naturally, before unpacking clothes, he unpacked his computers.

But really, so what if he is ill prepared to clothe himself adequately for foul weather and ends up freezing this winter at school...at least with all his computer stuff he'll be able to remote access my computer back at home to fix all my computer issues.  Frostbite will heal, the sting of computer trouble back at home, that could leave permanent scars.

Weening Myself From My I.T. Tech

I've been trying to ween myself off of my need for our official Skillman Family I.T. Tech. That would be Mitchell who unfortunately will be leaving for college this week. You know the old adage, "you don't know what you got till it's gone", well, quite sadly,  I DO know how good we have it around here with that boy and I bust up in tears that Mitchell will soon be gone.

Sadly, I'm not actually crying that my son is leaving for college. Secretly I'm excited about less laundry, having his room stay eternally clean, and not smelling Mitchell baking some satanically evil chocolaty goodness downstairs at midnight beguiling me into coming downstairs to enjoy a deliciously fatty a late night snack with him. No, I will not miss that.

What I am going to miss is the horrifying fact that I'll have no one to turn to amidst all my electronic and computer woes. The kid's a computer genius and he's always fixed all my problems--and all my friends problems too, for that matter. Case in point, the other day a good friend of mine had the nerve to call the house and when I answered she gave me a quick "how-do-you-do" and then asked for Mitch. She hadn't called for me. The next thing I know the kid is remote accessing her computer and fixing her dilemma in a blink of an eye.

I've been using Mitchell to solve all my technical tantrums for so long that I've become totally inept handling any electronic crisis on my own.  The past couple of months during his senior year of high school, my dependency on the kid almost got him kicked out of class.  Often in the middle of the day I would need some serious help with some sort of demonized electronic issue and so naturally I'd call my I.T. Tech. Unfortunately my I.T. guy happens to be in high school where it is strictly forbidden to answer your phone. But is it really my fault that my gadget guru is somewhere in the middle of a high school spanish or chemistry class? Noooo.  So since it's not my fault, I call him anyway.  I figure I pay for the kid's gas and insurance and in exchange he helps me with my computer woes. Shouldn't I be able to get in touch with him at anytime then? Yes, I think so-contrary to what his teachers say--after all, they're not paying his auto insurance premiums.

The poor kid started getting so many texts and calls from me during the day that the teachers finally gave in and let him take my calls.  I guess he explained that it was his mother was psycho and probably wouldn't stop calling until the problem got fixed.

My weekly (okay, sometimes daily) calls usually went like this:

Me: [pushing the speed dial for Mitch--he's the first one listed under "favorites", even before my husband Mark]

Mitchell: [whipering] "Mom, I'm in class right now. I can't talk."

Me: "I know but I have a really big problem."

Mitchell: [still whispering] "Mom, can I call you back after class? My teacher is looking at me."

Me: "Tell your teacher I have a very serious problem and that I need you for a second."

Mitchell: "Seriously mom."

Me: "I can't get my printer to print."

Mitchell: "Hold on mom." [long pause] "Okay, I'm out in the hall. But you have to make this quick. My teacher knows it's you on the phone and she said to hurry."

Me: "Okay I'll try and make this quick. My stupid printer isn't printing."

Mitchell: "Is it plugged in?"

Me: "What do you mean 'is it plugged in'? Of course it's plugged in! ...oh wait...uh yeah....oops...your right. Someone unplugged it from my computer. Okay. Uh thanks son."


Mitchell: "Seriously mom, you're gonna have to start figuring this stuff out on your own soon. You're gonna get me kicked out of class."

Me: "I know, I know. Thanks son."

Mitchell:  "Next time just text me okay?"

Now that he's leaving I've got an even bigger problem on my hands once September comes and he's safely tucked away in a dorm room somewhere and refuses to take my calls because he no longer lives at home where I can threaten to deprive him of gas money.

So when he recently spent a week up in Portland 'writing code' for some website (whatever that means) I decided that I would try to solve any electronic problem that creeped up--all by myself. To sort of practice my new Mitchell-free electronic life.   Here's a list of life-threatening techno tragedies that I was proudly able to solve all on my own:

• I reprogrammed a remote I for one I couldn't find. Though I must note that by the time I programmed said remote, it was too late to start the movie I was hoping to watch.

• My iphone's clock was 6 minutes behind the real time which was making everyone late for everything. After failing to fix the problem on my own,  I did what any reasonable person would do...I handed it to my 11-year old daughter Chloe and she fixed the problem for me. I'm not sure what the heck she did but all I know is that it tells the right time now.  And while Technically you might think I didn't solve the problem on my own, I disagree. I figured out, all on my own, HOW to solve the problem.  Which was to give the phone to Chloe and have her fix it for me. Problem solved.

But, once Mitch got home I had issues waiting for him that I could not solve:

• Namely, I couldn't get my ipad to relay video while I was trying to Skype.  After earnestly trying to "resolve my issues" on my own I finally yelled for Mitchell.  The kid had the gall to get it fixed in under two minutes and then handed it back to me without a word.  RUDE.  The kid could have at least held on to it for ten minutes to make it look like it was a serious and legitimate problem that took some time to solve.

As you can see, once this kid leaves the house, I'm dead.

Maintenance Required?

The Maintenance Required light is lit up on my Camry's dashboard these days. The "maintenance" that it's referring to is pretty dang obvious so I think it's just plain rude that my possessed car thought it would be appropriate to blare this warning light right in my face while I drive. Only an idiot would not to know what the problem is.

The light came on right after this happened...

...as if I needed a light to tell me there's a problem.  And seriously, I think in this particular situation, there's more than a little "Maintenance Required" here.  Why isn't a "Seance Required" light flashing??  That's the light that should have come programmed on my dashboard.

My poor dang Camry has been the subject of many a blog post. And not positive happy blog posts either. For a new-ish car, the poor thing has been featured in way waaaaay too many crash and ding kinda posts--exxxpennnnsive kinda posts.

The car's maiden voyage into crash-dom happened on the eve of our daughter Cheyenne's wedding. When the car was brand spankin' new.  Cheyenne was running an errand the night before her nuptials and absentmindedly made a wide sweeping turn inside our garage gashing the front bumper on the wall on her way out. The car didn't even have to leave home to suffer its first blow. The gash was fixed not long after but the whole experience was hardly forgotten. All children have since been banned from driving my car on or near their wedding day. Not a real problem since we don't plan on having another family wedding for years to come.

The Wedding Wipe Out was just the start of a series of bangs, dents, scratches, and loathsome lacerations the poor car has suffered since that fateful day. And after each crash we fork out the cash and have the ill-fated thing patched up, buffed out, and painted over. Happily the car looks brand new after each repair, and the only folks who know its dirty dinged-up secret is me and my body shop guy...and, well, my loyal blog readers who are forced to read all these Crash Chronicles. But to everyone else, my secret is safe, my car still looks shiny and new...until now, when, oddly enough, there was in fact ANOTHER FAMILY WEDDING.  Hmmmmm.

Since this latest crash, word has gotten out that my car is a magnet for mayhem. I've noticed as I drive around people steer clear of me and avoid me if at all possible.  But as I see it, I'm starting to think there's a WEDDING CURSE on my car. Lucky for my children, none of them crashed the car during this recent family wedding.  It was our poor friend Amanda that was the latest victim of my Camry's famously sadistic maneuver...the "Wedding Whack".

Amanda is one of my favorite teenagers of all time (and still is, even after crashing my car!).  If I could be a teenager again, heaven forbid, then I'd be AMANDA!   She's the prettiest tom girl you'll ever meet but she'll pummel you up if you give her any crap. That goes for boys or girls. And at 5'10" tall, she's still willing to rock a pair of killer stilettos if the occasion requires fancy footwear. I love a girl who loves to wear great shoes but will beat you with them if you make her mad. That's Amanda.

But as fate would have it, I asked poor Amanda to drive my Camry on the day of my niece Danielle's wedding.  I had completely forgotten my possessed Camry's prior record for such events and tossed her the keys to my car and asked her to bring the little kids and meet us there at the wedding.

Poor girl, it wasn't her fault.
I think she was doomed the second she took the keys to my cursed Camry. That car has a mind of it's own, kinda like Herbie when it turns into an evil car hellbent for destruction.

Just five feet from the entrance to the parking lot where the wedding was taking place, a car in front of her suddenly jammed on their brakes without warning and Amanda slammed right into the car ahead of her.  I'm sure she wanted to die right then and there! Nobody ever likes crashing a car, let alone someone else's car.  And just a few feet from her destination!

Amanda pulled the car into the parking lot and I'm pretty sure she was mortified--poor thing.  Then she saw Mitchell whose eyes were wide in disbelief.  Amanda got out of the car and had that look on her face like, 'Your mom is gonna kill me!'

But I don't think Mitchell was even the least bit shocked that my Camry had gotten into yet another skirmish.  He just looked at her and said, "Don't worry about the car, what you need to worry about is my mother blogging this...that is much worse than the car."

Seriously people. You have to laugh. What is this now? The 5th crash? Sheesh. It only serves to confirm my suspicions that there is indeed a Wedding Curse on my car. Or perhaps a car curse just in general.

...then again maybe my car has a crush on my auto-body repairman.  Whatever it is I know one thing for certain...

Mitchell was right.  Amanda need not worry about my car.  This blog post full of colorful pictures of that fateful day, maybe.  Hopefully she'll forgive me. My summer's been so crazy I haven't posted on my blog in a while. I need to post something, and this is just the thing.

 
I love you Amanda! Not my car so much, but I definitely love Amanda.