A day in the life of Utter Chaos.

So here is how my day went.

First, I got up and got dressed for my meeting. The irony of the fact that I'm scheduled for a two day seminar about Relationship Development the day after my divorce became final does not escape me. Anyway, I get up, get dressed, and man, do I look cute. Dress, accessories, tights, boots -- I feel great. So I drive up to Community North -- about 20 minutes away -- park, walk into the Professional Building, and make my way up to the room where the meeting is.

But the room is occupied by a bunch of corporate types. Not peons like me. I walk in, they all stare at me, and I realize I must be in the wrong room. Walk out. No, not wrong room. Wrong DAY. Turned out it's tomorrow, not today. Oh man.............

So I drive home, walk in, and Mom is there doing laundry. She's surprised to see me, but even more surprised to see that I walk straight into my room, still looking cute, and walk out wearing khakis and a polo -- my work uniform. "Why did you change," says Mom. "You looked so cute." ::sigh:: (I told you I looked cute.)

So, I text the co-workers, cause now I need to get a lineup of patients to see, since no one gave me anyone for today, since I was in a meeting all day. I get a quick list of four patients, and start making calls. Keep in mind that I get paid mileage when I arrive at the first house, so when you're a homecare nurse, you want to have at least one visit close to home. Only none of these are -- they're all over 15 miles away. Oh MAN! So, I start making calls, and no one answers. As in, three of four people don't answer. The fourth one answers, but doesn't want to be seen till late afternoon. What the heck am I gonna do till then?

So I call scheduling, and they give me two more patients. I call and get them scheduled -- they're 15 miles away too, so forget the mileage for today. I drive down the hospital and get a call about yet another patient, so I call that one and schedule. Her daughter is mad, cause she apparently wanted her mom to be seen at 9am, but the message was never received. I didn't find out about her mom till after 10, so there was nothing I could do but listen to her unload on me, with frequent "but I know it's not your fault but......" Yeah, I'm looking forward to seeing HER, cause she is on fire. Let's just say there were more miscommunications that were going to make this a potentially powderkeg of a visit. Went right along with my day thus far.

I go do the first visit and it goes well. Second visit, ok. I go see the one with the crabby daughter, and it even goes well. The daughter had given up the ghost and went to bed, so I was in and out. I was supposed to pick up some of our equipment, and I didn't realize till later that I had forgotten one piece. Greeeeaaaaat.

So off I go to Martinsville, which took about 45 minutes. Go to the address that's in the patient's profile, and see the name on the mailbox, as well as the number. I go to the door and knock, all while being madly barked at by their dog. No answer at the door. Knock knock again. No answer. I've now made peace with the dog. I go back to my car and call the patient and tell him "I'm here." He says ok, with an odd tone to his voice. Tells me not to park behind the physical therapist's car, cause she's just finishing up. At that point, I realize that there is no other car in the driveway. How can I be at the wrong house? The name is the same, and the number is the same. What the heck?

I pull out of the driveway, totally confused, and drive a bit further down the road, only to realize that there is ANOTHER mailbox next door with the same number and name on it. WHAT THE HECK? How can that be? Well, I pulled in and parked next to the PT's car. I never told the people that I'd been knocking on the neighbor's door. I wonder if the dog will tell them..........

About that time, I got a call telling me that the last of the patients I'd been trying to reach had finally called back and wanted to be seen. I thought I'd be done around 4, but this added another hour on to the already whacky day. Walk in, find out that the patient is a nurse who is trying to apply for a job in a department where a friend of mine is the manager. Small world. At least we had a nice visit, and everything went ok.

All in all, six patients, four dogs, two cats, a few vials of blood, and no lunch later, I came home and raked leaves. And tomorrow, I will be at Community North, looking cute. Hopefully all day this time.

Things you need to know as a result of Our Vacation

1. We have discovered that Thomas is the Fish God. Every time he gets into the water, schools of fishes swarm around him, and follow him wherever he goes. Every time. It's crazy.
2. Something about The King of all Chickens in a game of pseudo-pictionary is still cracking these kids up, two days later. I, however, slept thru it.
3. Raccoons climb palm trees. Who knew?
4. When Michael falls off a bed, he does NOT bounce.
5. Cell phones demagnetize hotel keys. This was a lesson not learned the first two or three times it happened.
6. Waffle House at 4:30am is a pretty funny place to be.
7. In Florida, liquor can't be sold in grocery stores. It can, however, be sold in a store with the same name as the grocery store, attached to the grocery store, but with a different entrance. And you thought Indiana had weird liquor laws.
9. . There is a store here called Condom Knowledge that I really wanted to investigate, but never did. ::sad face::
9. Avoid Nashville in rush hour at all costs. Seriously.
10. It is possible to have someone draw a huge penis in the sand -- along with HAHA -- on the beach front of a hotel balcony, and it will not be removed quickly. Note: this was NOT our artwork.
11. A dolphin sculpture created in the sand, with a huge wall around it, will be destroyed. The wall, however, will not. People are dumb.
12. No matter where you are in the water, the waves break about 15 feet away from where you are.
13. There must be, at all times, a man on the beach in a Speedo. And he is always too old and too heavy to even think of truly being able to carry it off.
14. You could be wakened in the morning and find that your hotel door is open. And people have been going to the elevator across from said door for over an hour. Probably all laughing at the people sleeping inside. Oh well, life is short.
15. Young children should be given bathroom rights first, lest they wake up the neighbors yelling "let me IN, I gotta POOP!" Repeatedly.
16. Give the parents the secret password to the alarm system before you leave, or the police WILL show up and try to arrest them. NOTE: this could make vacation infinitely more interesting, should you choose not to do it.
17. Colllege students WILL do homework on vacation. High school students will talk about it, then never do it.

I'm sure there are more, but I can't remember them at the moment, so perhaps I will add some later.

Also heard..........

Seth: "Why are fast food workers alwasy so lazy?"

Thomas: "Maybe because they are working fast food."

Seth: "Yeah, they all are so annoying."

::Michael, in back seat, is silent. With wide eyes::

Me: "You do realize that Michael worked fast food all last summer."

::Michael bursts out laughing::

Me: "Michael, are you planning to..."

Michael: "NO!"

Me: "You seem pretty emphatic about that."

::Michael nods::

Me: "So you guys had better be nicer about fast food workers, or Michael is gonna go all ninja on you."

Thomas: "I'm not seein' that."

Seth: "Yeah, I'm not seein' that at all."

Michael: "You can't see me cause I'm a ninja."

Touche, good sir. Touche.

He fits right in.

Michael, Jill's boyfriend, is wonderful. I tell her all the time that she is never allowed to hurt him, because it would be like killing a puppy, he's so sweet. And he fits right in with us -- not that we're sweet, mind you, but the sense of humor is killer. Take this conversation, heard on the way to Panama City. Caution: it is partially in Nerdspeak.

Thomas: "Did you know that they have gotten particles to move faster than the speed of light? That's crazy."
Seth: "How did they do that?"
Thomas: "That particle accelerator they built."
Seth: "What's that?"
Thomas: "It accelerates particles, stupid."
Seth: "What for?"
Thomas: "So they can make things move really fast."
Michael: "So kinda like Nascar, only cool."

I love that boy.

Sethanese, thus far.

So yeah, we are on our way to a short fall break getaway that basically involves my feet, the Gulf and a beach chair. We have thus far made it to Evansville, where we are picking up The Girl and her main squeeze, and take off tomorrow after class.

Seth will be going to class with her. University of Southern Indiana may never be the same.

If you've done much reading about our past car trips, or about Seth in General, you should know that Seth is our main form of entertainment in the car, and tonight was no exception. I plugged in my iPod, and along came Michael Buble's "All I Do Is Dream of You." Here was the conversation that followed.

Me: "This song makes me smile."
Seth: "I like this guy, but he sounds so much like Barry Manilow."
Me: "Barry Manilow? What the heck?"
Seth: "Yeah. Or that other guy. I don't remember his name."
Me: "Frank Sinatra?"
Seth: "Yeah, him. I never remember his name."

After we got to Jill's apartment, a conversation about Hank Williams, Jr. ensued, which involved the word cattle calling.

Seth: "Cattle calling. Isn't that what construction workers do?"
::blank looks pointed at Seth from all four of us in the room::
Me: "Uh, I think you are thinking of cat calls, not cattle calls."

::sigh:: Apparently my child confuses hot women with cows. My chances of becoming a grandmother some day just dropped substantially.

We also discovered that Thomas didn't understand that the word "scarecrow" was derived from the idea that particular item Scares Crows. And when asked by his sister what "germane" means, The Heir to the Throne responded "it's what people from Germany are called." WOW. In all fairness, he ultimately pointed out that he meant Germanic, but I prefer the realization that Sethanese may have a cousin, as yet to be named.

As usual, this will be another interesting trip.

Blankety-blank

I remember very well, the events of that day in 2001, when our lives were changed forever. I remember how scared we were, wondering how many more planes would go down, or what would happen next. I remember sitting in line at the gas station, because my car was WAY below E, and being worried I would run out before I got to the pump -- all because people were panicked that gas prices would quadruple overnight.

I remember.

I remember every day, even now, when I hear a plane fly overhead. I thank God that they've changed airline security, but always wonder if it is enough to keep us safe, when people are willing to put bombs in their shoes or their underwear. And I remember our first flight after 9/11 happened.

We were flying to Florida. Dan and I were going on a cruise just before Halloween, and the kids were going to divide their time between both sets of grandparents. It was the first time we flew together as a family, and everyone was incredulous. If I had a nickel for every time someone asked "aren't you AFRAID to fly right now" they'd ask. My response was always no. My theory was, if something happened to me, I wouldn't want my kids to be left alone. And if something happened to my kids, well, bury me right along with them, because I could not go on anyway. I figured that if someone bombed our plane, we'd all die together, and no one would be left alone.

Yeah, people thought I was weird. Heck, people still think I'm weird, but I'm ok with that.

So, in preparation for the flight, I called the airport. When I finally got hold of someone in security, I asked if they would allow my then 6 year old son to bring his blanket on the plane. Specifically, I asked if they would let him through security with it, because if we got to the airport and they confiscated it, we would all end up on CNN, with the headline "6 Year Old Succumbs to Blanket Separation Anxiety." Not taking this blanket was NOT an option. Well, the lady in security's response was "of COURSE he can bring his blanket," in a very condescending tone. "Well, I wasn't sure." "Why in the world would he not be allowed to take his blanket," she replied."

"Well, I didn't know, since it's a queen sized quilt." There was a pregnant pause.
"Well, I hardly think he could carry that," she said.
"Oh, he does quite fine with it, actually," I said, "but if they take it away from him at security, it could get very ugly and loud very quickly."

She still sounded like she thought I was stupid when I hung up the phone. But trust me, Seth lugged that huge quilt everywhere. So we went to the airport, checked in, and got on the plane. I was sitting in front of him and Dan, when suddenly, a child-sized shirt flew over the seat, landing in my lap. I turned around to see what the heck the kid was doing. There he was, topless, wrapped in his blanket. He looked at me, shrugged, and said "I was hot."

After the cruise to nowhere (there was a hurricane, but that's another story), we confirmed our flight home. We had to report to the airport 2 1/2 hours early -- remember, they were being really crazy about the security at the time -- so we went, the father in law dropped us off, and we got in line. When we finally got to the counter, the boy there -- named Mohammed, which sadly, gave me pause, but again, remember how it was at in those days -- informed us that the flight time had changed, and that we were about to miss our flight.

We took off at a full run, with three kids, trailing that queen sized quilt behind us all the way to the tram in the Orlando airport. After we jumped out of the tram, making sure that the quilt wasn't caught in the door, we ran to the gate and made it, just in time to check in before we took off.

We've flown several times since then, sometimes with the blanket, sometimes not. He takes it camping, on vacation, on overnights, and he plans to take it when he goes to Europe for 17 days next summer. And you know what? If he's found something that gives him comfort, why not, because we cannot stay entrenched in post 9/11 fear. We have moved forward, learning the lessons that come from that day, and know that we live in a safer world than ten years ago. There is comfort in simplicity. I think Seth's got it all figured out.

Naptown.

School started last Thursday for Seth. He likes school, but lamented its return for at least two weeks of his roughly six week summer break. His school is year round, but a rather warped year round, so he really doesn't get a long break. Nonetheless, Irvington Preparatory didn't read his memo, and started on schedule.

Now, Seth is a night owl. He likes to stay up late, but frequently wimps out and falls asleep long before his buddies. Last week, however, he ended up staying up pretty late the night before school starts, and in the morning, it showed. Keep in mind that the boy has two alarm clocks that go off -- one on one side of his head, the other on the other side. He doesn't even flinch. So every morning, the conversation is the same, and it goes like this:

"Seth. Seeeeeeth. SETH."
"::unintelligible::
"What? You have to get up."
"I'm awake."
"You have to be vertical or I'm not leaving this room."
"It's ok. I'm awake." (said as he lays stock-still, wrapped in his blanket. I haven't seen eyes yet.)
"Seth. Sit up. I'm not leaving until I see you UP."
::sits up, wrapped in a blanket like the Virgin Mary, looking like he lives under a bridge::
"I'm awake."
"Now, don't lay back down. Do you want the light?"
"Yes. Thank you."
"Ok. Have a good day."

This has been our morning conversation for two years. Occasionally he surprises me and actually wakes up for the alarm, but I think he likes our little exchange, or he's a glutton for punishment, one or the other. Well, Thursday, he was wiped out, but he knew I was driving him to school (first day, Mommy wants to see him off to school, you know), so he got up and motivated. Friday morning wasn't a whole lot better, but he got up and moving, and we made it to school just in time for him to get to class. Monday morning came, and his wagon was still draggin -- he actually did fall back to sleep briefly, but he was up in time to get in the car, though I'm not 100% positive he remembered the trip.

And then today came.

I have mentioned in the past that the boy talks in his sleep. I have also mentioned that he will have entire conversations with you that he doesn't ever remember having. Well, this morning, I went in and woke him up like usual. I use the term "woke up" loosely, as I was pretty sure he was having one of those unconscious conversations. He had actually gone to bed at a fairly reasonable hour, but he was dead to the world when I walked in. Here's how it went:

"Seth. Seeeeeeetthhhh. SETH. SETH SETH. SETH!"
::garbled unintelligible verbiage::
"SETH. Wake UP."
"garbled unintelligible verbiage::
"Seth, you have to get up. I have to see you vertical or I'm not leaving this room."
"wha......." ::garbled unintelligble verbiage::
::he makes a move, but he is wrapped up like a mummy. He sits up about 1/4 of the way, gets tangled, gives up, and lies back down::
"SETH. UP. NOW."
::He sits up. Unintelligble speech. "I'm up." The eyes are open. He is looking at me. He is probably totally unaware of what is going on, but I keep going."
"Are you awake?"
"I'm awake."
"Do you want the light?"
::unintelligble speech::
"What? You need to wake up. Don't lie back down."
"I'm awake."
"Do you want the light?"
"Yeah. Thank you."
"OK, I am going to turn on the light. Do NOT lie back down. Don't go back to sleep. You have to walk to school today, so you have to wake up."
"Ok, I'm fine."

Amazingly, he made it to school on time. I live in amazement of his abilities to get awake, when he looks so bedraggled. He is much like me -- I hate morning. So tonight, we were discussing the next couple of days, because I am off, and I can take him to school. And here's the conversation that followed.

"Did you wake me up this morning? Because if you did, I don't remember it at all."
"Yes, I did."
"Did you talk to me, because I don't remember it at all."
"Yes, we had an entire conversation, but you were pretty sleepy."
"I don't remember it at all."
"Well, it was one of those ones where I knew you were asleep, and I figured you wouldn't remember it."
"I don't."
"So Seth, I know I've been waking you up later than usual. What time do you want to get up?"
"Whenever you get up."
"But that's what I've been doing. I've been getting up later than usual though, so I'm getting you up late, and I know you need extra time to get awake. What time do you want to get up?"
"Whenever you get up."
::getting nowhere::
"Seth, what time do you set your alarm clock for?"
"Six thirty."
"OK, so I will get you up at 6:30."
"I used to set it for 5:30."
::mother shudders::
"Why in the world would you want to get up that early?"
"So I can take a nap."

Ponder that for a minute.

"So you get up earlier so you can take a nap?"
"Yeah, I like to wake up, then take a nap, so I can get awake better when I get up."

Hmmm........hmmm............I will say, this child must not be related to me, because I fly out of the bed at the last possible moment, many days, because I hate to get up, hate the sound of the alarm clock, hate morning, and everything associated with it, and if the boy didn't live here, I would seriously find a way to not get out of bed at any time that has an AM associated with it. And I will also say that there is NO WAY that I am going to wake this boy up at 5:30 am, because there is absolutely no reason on earth good enough for anyone to get up that early in the morning, unless George Clooney is involved, and I wouldn't need to be getting out of bed for that, so it's a moot point.

So tomorrow, the boy will be wakened at 6:30, and hopefully he will wake up. In time for his nap.