I read a recent article discussing the merits of having an only child. It discusses the constant badgering to have more children that parents who have made the choice to have only one child receive. I will admit that I have been guilty of the "so are you going to have more?" question. Personally it is not a choice that I (obviously) made for myself or my children. Being raised as an only-child-with-siblings I was lonely and didn't want that for my own children. I longed for the companionship and even the antagonistic nature of a sibling close to my age and in my own house. I wanted to have to share a room and fight over what toy was mine. I wanted a confidant. I wanted a partner-in-crime. I wanted someone else that understood. I was jealous of friends with siblings close to their age. What I would not understand until I was older was that if I had only one child she would not know the loneliness that I had felt for a variety of reasons - least of which was a lack of siblings. Now that they do have multiple siblings I do what I can to foster a close relationship between them. I am constantly trying to remind them that there is no relationship in the world like that of your sister. When I am long gone it will be your sisterhood that binds you together. Part of my desire for another child is a fear that Fiona will someday know the pain of having a sister you have no hope of being close to because of the gap in your ages. It is not the only reason but I would be dishonest if I did not admit that I do think about it and often.
The fact that we are trying to have another baby is something that gets me the same type of rude remarks people choosing to only have one child are faced with. Things like: You know what causes that right? Are you ever going to stop? You want ANOTHER ONE? Are you NUTS? Well, that will be your last one then, right - because you can't possibly want more!
Are you freakin' kidding me, people? STAY OUT OF MY WOMB! The only person who really and truly has option to comment on the state of my reproductive life is the person that I am reproducing with! I hadn't realized how much this truly bothered me until I was reading about how upset and defensive people were made to feel about only having one child. I understood their desire to not have to explain the choices that they make in their own families, marriages and bedrooms.
(To my friends with only one child that do not plan to have any more I say this: I am sorry if I have EVER made a comment that has made you feel uncomfortable or defensive about your decision. I ask only out of curiosity and as a person who is passionate about birth and pregnancy - not from a place of judgment or rudeness.)
Please, General Public, if you are not helping to make the baby keep your shock and awe to yourself.
I love my large family. With every child we bring in more love. We have struggles unique to a large family but are without those that a family with few children might have. Don't ask what those might be, I can't remember. Every child we have is an amazing miracle. Maybe I like a challenge. Maybe I am in fact as crazy as people tell me I am. Either way I am proof that contrary to what this blog might want you to think, I am happier than I ever thought possible. My children do not make me happy but are very much a part of my happiness.
I think in an age where the innermost workings of our lives and thoughts are shared in two line updates on social networking sites and in greater details in blogs people have lost the ability to think before they speak.
One last note: Parents of only one child, please remember you are as much of a freak to people like me as we are to you. :)
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Two Years And A Day
Doug and I spent the last few days celebrating our two year wedding anniversary. Saturday we had brunch at our favorite restaurant, Salty's. Followed by a helicopter tour of Seattle. Last night, our actual anniversary, we took the girls out to celebrate with us at Mama Sortini's in Puyallup.
Marriage is not what I expected it to be. I know that sounds funny since I had been married once before, but this is different. Marriage was hard and a lot of work. There were constant battles. It was bi-polar. It was something I swore I would never do again. When Doug asked me to marry him I agreed because I loved him enough to be willing to put the work in to build a life with him. The funny thing is that I haven't had to. What I'm learning is that marriage with the right person is easy. Sure, there's conflicts and we have our less than stellar moments. But it's not hard. It's not work.
I think I have married the most patient man on the planet. He is beyond patient with me when I feel like the house is falling down around me. When I apologize for the house being a mess he just shrugs it off "I don't like to clean, why should you?". When I forget to take the dry-cleaning in - for the fourth day in a row - he says "I could do it just as easily and I didn't".
He's my buoy. He gives me something to anchor myself to. When the waters get rough he is there, riding the waves and being a beacon of all that is good and stable.
I said them two years ago, have lived them since and will continue to do so:
Marriage is not what I expected it to be. I know that sounds funny since I had been married once before, but this is different. Marriage was hard and a lot of work. There were constant battles. It was bi-polar. It was something I swore I would never do again. When Doug asked me to marry him I agreed because I loved him enough to be willing to put the work in to build a life with him. The funny thing is that I haven't had to. What I'm learning is that marriage with the right person is easy. Sure, there's conflicts and we have our less than stellar moments. But it's not hard. It's not work.
I think I have married the most patient man on the planet. He is beyond patient with me when I feel like the house is falling down around me. When I apologize for the house being a mess he just shrugs it off "I don't like to clean, why should you?". When I forget to take the dry-cleaning in - for the fourth day in a row - he says "I could do it just as easily and I didn't".
He's my buoy. He gives me something to anchor myself to. When the waters get rough he is there, riding the waves and being a beacon of all that is good and stable.
I said them two years ago, have lived them since and will continue to do so:
from today, I will belong to you for the rest of my life. I promise to love and honor you; and to give you my strength, and to stand by you in joy and in sorrow, and ask you to stand by me. I want you to share your hopes, desires, and dreams with me. I know that our home will be one of love and understanding. I promise to care for you when you are sick, stand by you when times are difficult, and to share the warmth and joy of life. I give you all my trust and all of my tomorrows. I will grow with you as long as I live.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
I Broke My Daughter's Heart
I had to break my daughter's heart - and my own while I was at it. It's bound to happen sooner or later - it does with all of them. That knowledge does not make it easier.
Allie had a "boyfriend" that she's been talking about for a few weeks now. I hadn't given it much thought, as middle-schoolers cycle through boyfriends like they share pens. There's been a few that she's liked and then not and then liked again. I figured after a couple of weeks this one would be old news, too. Krystyne, having had to submit to the torturous task of bringing her boyfriend home decided that it was high time that Allie be subjected to the same disgrace. That's when we found out that he "doesn't live here". Um, what? He lives in WI. Um, WHAT?!?! My head went firmly into the are-you-freakin'-kidding-me mode. "Dad said he'll take me to see him while I'm there". Oh, this just gets better and better.
From here the details of their meeting get a little fuzzy. He's the cousin of a friend's ex-boyfriend, he's was in town for a funeral. She first saw him on a Warp Tour message board and happen to recognize him with a friend. It gets a little fishy and I realized that the "how" of it all was not really important.
There were some text messages that had pinged my Mom Radar as a little concerning. Just basic ever-lasting-love teenage crap that is to be expected. There was just something in it that gave me reason to pause. I had shrugged it off to my over protective Mama Bear stuff, but it just didn't sit right.
Last night I sat down with Al to try to talk some sense into her. And by talk some sense, I mean really explain how the hell this was NEVER going to happen. Let's start with logistics of the whole thing. The kid lives an hour away from where her dad lives. Just the chance of seeing him is almost non-existent, no matter what Dad says. There's a lot of "sure, we'll go to the lake, mall, whatever" that doesn't happen. Not with any malicious intent but sometimes you just don't get to it. It happens here all the time, it's not something I fault him for. Add to that taking away the very little time that they get out there, how likely is it really. Here's what the next few visits look like:
Summer - Late June to Mid August
Christmas Break - Two weeks at the end of December
Summer - 6 weeks in July/August
How do you have any kind of relationship in that time? Is it really fair to ask Dad during the only few weeks he gets in the next year to take you somewhere for a few hours to make googly eyes at some boy? This is all around just a bad idea. The 65-ish days they get with their dad should be spent with him. It's all he gets and it's not fair to ask that he give that time up.
I hated to do it but I had to draw the line. How crazy would I be to allow this to continue? I'm a little nuts, I'm not that nuts.
I know that I had to do what was right for my daughter even if she can't see it now. Even if she can't see past the hurt that she sees me "intentionally" dishing out for her. I can see the 800 ways this could go terribly wrong. Maybe it's too many Lifetime movies. Maybe it's my own paranoia about my girls having to go through even an ounce of the horrors I went through in my early (and even later) relationships. I can see how isolating something like this could become. I can't sit by and watch while she passes by opportunities and experiences that she should be having out of some misplaced loyalty to some mangy, weird kid that can't land a girlfriend in his own town. My Allie is beautiful, even with the mounds of eyeliner and ever-changing hair colors. She is a complicated, sensitive child. Under normal circumstances she stands back and watches before making her choices. She can be impulsive. She is goofy and funny and pure joy. She worries me more than any of the other kids. She is stubborn and sarcastic and helpful. I will not stand by while some little freak-job (hey, I am not required to be diplomatic here) pulls on her heart-strings and toys with her emotions. I won't. I don't have to. I am asserting my parental right to come in and destroy their hopes and dreams in the name of knowing what's best. A part of her may hate me now, but I'm OK with that. In 5 years I will remind her of this and she will say "who? I don't remember that, Mom". I can wait.
For now I offer distractions and give her a little more leeway with friends. Summer is coming and she'll be leaving soon. This trip will be longer than most. I will block the little punk's number from her phone and erase it from her address book. I'll give it to her dad to do the same and watch for. (Amazingly enough Kraig actually agrees with me on this one. We don't often agree when it comes to parenting. I'm glad he's on my team for this one)
Eighth grade will provide a whole new set of boys to make googly eyes at. I hope one day she understands.
Allie had a "boyfriend" that she's been talking about for a few weeks now. I hadn't given it much thought, as middle-schoolers cycle through boyfriends like they share pens. There's been a few that she's liked and then not and then liked again. I figured after a couple of weeks this one would be old news, too. Krystyne, having had to submit to the torturous task of bringing her boyfriend home decided that it was high time that Allie be subjected to the same disgrace. That's when we found out that he "doesn't live here". Um, what? He lives in WI. Um, WHAT?!?! My head went firmly into the are-you-freakin'-kidding-me mode. "Dad said he'll take me to see him while I'm there". Oh, this just gets better and better.
From here the details of their meeting get a little fuzzy. He's the cousin of a friend's ex-boyfriend, he's was in town for a funeral. She first saw him on a Warp Tour message board and happen to recognize him with a friend. It gets a little fishy and I realized that the "how" of it all was not really important.
There were some text messages that had pinged my Mom Radar as a little concerning. Just basic ever-lasting-love teenage crap that is to be expected. There was just something in it that gave me reason to pause. I had shrugged it off to my over protective Mama Bear stuff, but it just didn't sit right.
Last night I sat down with Al to try to talk some sense into her. And by talk some sense, I mean really explain how the hell this was NEVER going to happen. Let's start with logistics of the whole thing. The kid lives an hour away from where her dad lives. Just the chance of seeing him is almost non-existent, no matter what Dad says. There's a lot of "sure, we'll go to the lake, mall, whatever" that doesn't happen. Not with any malicious intent but sometimes you just don't get to it. It happens here all the time, it's not something I fault him for. Add to that taking away the very little time that they get out there, how likely is it really. Here's what the next few visits look like:
Summer - Late June to Mid August
Christmas Break - Two weeks at the end of December
Summer - 6 weeks in July/August
How do you have any kind of relationship in that time? Is it really fair to ask Dad during the only few weeks he gets in the next year to take you somewhere for a few hours to make googly eyes at some boy? This is all around just a bad idea. The 65-ish days they get with their dad should be spent with him. It's all he gets and it's not fair to ask that he give that time up.
I hated to do it but I had to draw the line. How crazy would I be to allow this to continue? I'm a little nuts, I'm not that nuts.
I know that I had to do what was right for my daughter even if she can't see it now. Even if she can't see past the hurt that she sees me "intentionally" dishing out for her. I can see the 800 ways this could go terribly wrong. Maybe it's too many Lifetime movies. Maybe it's my own paranoia about my girls having to go through even an ounce of the horrors I went through in my early (and even later) relationships. I can see how isolating something like this could become. I can't sit by and watch while she passes by opportunities and experiences that she should be having out of some misplaced loyalty to some mangy, weird kid that can't land a girlfriend in his own town. My Allie is beautiful, even with the mounds of eyeliner and ever-changing hair colors. She is a complicated, sensitive child. Under normal circumstances she stands back and watches before making her choices. She can be impulsive. She is goofy and funny and pure joy. She worries me more than any of the other kids. She is stubborn and sarcastic and helpful. I will not stand by while some little freak-job (hey, I am not required to be diplomatic here) pulls on her heart-strings and toys with her emotions. I won't. I don't have to. I am asserting my parental right to come in and destroy their hopes and dreams in the name of knowing what's best. A part of her may hate me now, but I'm OK with that. In 5 years I will remind her of this and she will say "who? I don't remember that, Mom". I can wait.
For now I offer distractions and give her a little more leeway with friends. Summer is coming and she'll be leaving soon. This trip will be longer than most. I will block the little punk's number from her phone and erase it from her address book. I'll give it to her dad to do the same and watch for. (Amazingly enough Kraig actually agrees with me on this one. We don't often agree when it comes to parenting. I'm glad he's on my team for this one)
Eighth grade will provide a whole new set of boys to make googly eyes at. I hope one day she understands.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Fiona's Firtst 100 Words... and then some
Doug and I were just noticing how much Fiona's vocabulary has exploded recently. I decided that it would be a good idea to start writing down all the words she could say. As the list grew I wondered if she had a vocabulary of at least 100 words. Here are the first 100 (plus a few extra) that I could think of with help from Fiona and Krystyne.
- Doug (This was her first word. He's obviously not happy about this one, but she's the only one in the house that doesn't call him Doug. Sometimes she still does but she'll learn as she gets older)
- Mama
- Mom
- Papa
- Jane
- Al
- Sister
- Krys (We're still working on this one. It's relatively new.)
- Baba (completely interchangeable with cup)
- Cup
- Mine
- No
- Cat
- Dog
- Fred (pronounced Sed)
- Hello
- Hi
- Bye
- Baby
Her Body: Learning about herself
- Hair
- Head
- Eyes
- Nose
- Mouth
- Chin
- Cheeks
- Ears
- Arm
- Hands
- Elbow
- Spot (her word for freckle)
- Belly Button
Her World: Things that she does, has or wants
- Brush (This can be either the hair brush or her tooth brush)
- Shower
- Diaper
- Snack
- Shoes
- Socks
- Toys
- Color (So far her favorite activity)
- Yuck
- Gross (Eewww is one, too)
- Hug
- Kiss
- Stairs
- Happy
- Car
- Flower
- Balloon
- Up
- Outside
- Ball
- Ouch
- Coupon (yes, this is my girl!)
- Wash
- Soap
- Clap
- Book
- Color
- Cracker
- Cake
- Stuck
- Help
- Cereal
- Coffee (Guess figuring out her parents aren’t hard!)
- Jump
- Pat (as in pat on the back or pat the dog, which she does)
- Hot
- Talk
Animals: She’s learning about animals and can point to them in her book
- Frog (pronounced Sog)
- Fish (pronounced Sish)
- Duck
- Chicken
- Cow (Often followed by moooo! Thanks Carla)
- Hamster
- Bear
- Turtle
- Elephant
- Pig
- Goat
- Sheep
- Zebra
- Mouse
- Squirrel
Cartoons: Proof we watch way too much TV
- ‘Toons
- Calliou
- Club House
- Goofy
- Minnie Mouse
- Mickey Mouse
- Daisy
- Donald
- Wow-Wow
- Zaboo
- Manny
Learning: She loves learning her shapes and gets excited when she recognizes them. Although most things are still Circles. She only knows one color so far and one number.
- Blue
- Two
- Circle
- Rectangle
- Oval
- Star
- Heart
Small Phrases: Small phrases and sentences that she likes to use
- Thank you
- Ready, Set, Go!
- All Done
- Good Job
- I Get You!
- Awesome! (Usually follows a High Five)
What They Don't Tell You About Trying to Get Pregnant
I'm trying to get pregnant.
Anyone who knows me knows this is not a secret. We are hoping for that ever elusive Bouncing Baby Boy. Since I was little I've always wanted a son. "When I grow up I want to have a boy!". Apparently God was listening and in his infinite humor has decided to bless me with four beautiful girls instead. I love my girls completely and would never wish that they were anything but who they are (a limited trade on some of our harder days wouldn't be totally unwelcome though). So, we keep trying. Even if our next baby is a girl we will be done. I've always wanted a big family but five is my limit. Any more and we stop being able to buy cars from regular car dealerships. That folks, is where I draw the line.
So, we're trying. I read somewhere once that announcing publicly that you are trying to get pregnant is like saying "Guess what everybody! We're having SEX!". And it is. I've never really tried to get pregnant before. It just kind of happened. Jane was sort of planned. The phrase "we should try to get pregnant" was used and a month later there it was. Even with Fiona, Doug and I had wanted to get pregnant, knew that we would be trying soon. Life apparently had other plans. This time has not been so easy.
For a year we have been trying to get pregnant. In December we got our BFP (that's Big Fat Positive in fertility lingo). In January we got our Big Fat Devastation. I keep waiting. I'm charting my temperature every morning at 6 o'clock. Every morning. It's the first thing I do. It's the first thing that I think about. I have a membership to a website online that puts together a fancy little graph for me and charts my temperature, our sex life and various other bodily functions that most people don't think about on a daily basis. I have peed on numerous little strips of litmus paper looking for indications of hormone surges. Women trying to get pregnant are obsessed with peeing on little pieces of paper and sticks bought in 3 packs. You start long before you know you can't possibly get a positive. But you do it anyway. I know the percentage of an accurate result based on brand. I know the average price and where to find them on sale. A million dollar market for stuff to pee on. Amazing isn't it? I know on any given day of the month what is going on in my body. I can tell you the day I ovulated. And I do. I have had girlfriends tell me "what are you doing talking to me? Go trip your husband!". As women I guess they understand.
The one thing the doctors don't tell you when you start this journey is how friggin' HARD it is. The gut wrenching disappointment when you reach for that box of tampons. You don't realize how hard you pray that your period doesn't start on the day you know it will. And you know it will. That day or the next because you've been watching your temperature do a nose dive for 3 days. Or the times when you dread going to the bathroom because your temperatures have remained high. There's been a slight downward arc, but nothing alarming. It's been a little chilly at night, hasn't it? Your husband stole the covers, or got out of bed earlier so of course you're a little cooler than normal. You wouldn't think that a 0.08 drop in temperature could cause such turmoil but it does!
One week a month sex becomes something else. It's not the loving act between a married couple. It's not the carnal desire of two people attracted to each other. It's sex with a mission. With a purpose. This is it. We have this three day window. We have to make this work. You do try to make it something more but you both really know better. It's not like he doesn't know what's going on. Because he knows you're ovulating soon. He knows because you've said so. You told him last month when the period came that next month around the 10th would be it. You told him Sunday that he better rest up because Wednesday is looking good. You've reminded him about the vitamins and he's seen the OPK's lined up so you can watch the surge. The shaved legs, the extra time on the hair, the spruced up house, the million little things that you do to try to hide the fact that tonight we get to WORK, damn it! Because if it works this time, you can stop all of this. All of the madness and craziness that you put yourself through. He knows and he loves you.
You do want to stop the craziness. You do - but you can't. So you keep it up and you keep going and you try just one more time. Because next time it will work. Right?
I am blessed with the wonderful husband that I have. Doug wants another baby, too. The act of trying is great. He says it'll happen when it's supposed to. (The nurse at my doctor's office said we just need to go on vacation, or plan something important, because that's when babies are conceived) He is tender and reassuring and calm about it. But, that's my Doug and how he is about everything. He is supportive and understanding in his recent knowledge of everything he didn't realize he didn't want to know about the female reproductive system. He loves me. I am thankful for that every single day.
So we'll keep it up. Maybe next month will be the last month.
Anyone who knows me knows this is not a secret. We are hoping for that ever elusive Bouncing Baby Boy. Since I was little I've always wanted a son. "When I grow up I want to have a boy!". Apparently God was listening and in his infinite humor has decided to bless me with four beautiful girls instead. I love my girls completely and would never wish that they were anything but who they are (a limited trade on some of our harder days wouldn't be totally unwelcome though). So, we keep trying. Even if our next baby is a girl we will be done. I've always wanted a big family but five is my limit. Any more and we stop being able to buy cars from regular car dealerships. That folks, is where I draw the line.
So, we're trying. I read somewhere once that announcing publicly that you are trying to get pregnant is like saying "Guess what everybody! We're having SEX!". And it is. I've never really tried to get pregnant before. It just kind of happened. Jane was sort of planned. The phrase "we should try to get pregnant" was used and a month later there it was. Even with Fiona, Doug and I had wanted to get pregnant, knew that we would be trying soon. Life apparently had other plans. This time has not been so easy.
For a year we have been trying to get pregnant. In December we got our BFP (that's Big Fat Positive in fertility lingo). In January we got our Big Fat Devastation. I keep waiting. I'm charting my temperature every morning at 6 o'clock. Every morning. It's the first thing I do. It's the first thing that I think about. I have a membership to a website online that puts together a fancy little graph for me and charts my temperature, our sex life and various other bodily functions that most people don't think about on a daily basis. I have peed on numerous little strips of litmus paper looking for indications of hormone surges. Women trying to get pregnant are obsessed with peeing on little pieces of paper and sticks bought in 3 packs. You start long before you know you can't possibly get a positive. But you do it anyway. I know the percentage of an accurate result based on brand. I know the average price and where to find them on sale. A million dollar market for stuff to pee on. Amazing isn't it? I know on any given day of the month what is going on in my body. I can tell you the day I ovulated. And I do. I have had girlfriends tell me "what are you doing talking to me? Go trip your husband!". As women I guess they understand.
The one thing the doctors don't tell you when you start this journey is how friggin' HARD it is. The gut wrenching disappointment when you reach for that box of tampons. You don't realize how hard you pray that your period doesn't start on the day you know it will. And you know it will. That day or the next because you've been watching your temperature do a nose dive for 3 days. Or the times when you dread going to the bathroom because your temperatures have remained high. There's been a slight downward arc, but nothing alarming. It's been a little chilly at night, hasn't it? Your husband stole the covers, or got out of bed earlier so of course you're a little cooler than normal. You wouldn't think that a 0.08 drop in temperature could cause such turmoil but it does!
One week a month sex becomes something else. It's not the loving act between a married couple. It's not the carnal desire of two people attracted to each other. It's sex with a mission. With a purpose. This is it. We have this three day window. We have to make this work. You do try to make it something more but you both really know better. It's not like he doesn't know what's going on. Because he knows you're ovulating soon. He knows because you've said so. You told him last month when the period came that next month around the 10th would be it. You told him Sunday that he better rest up because Wednesday is looking good. You've reminded him about the vitamins and he's seen the OPK's lined up so you can watch the surge. The shaved legs, the extra time on the hair, the spruced up house, the million little things that you do to try to hide the fact that tonight we get to WORK, damn it! Because if it works this time, you can stop all of this. All of the madness and craziness that you put yourself through. He knows and he loves you.
You do want to stop the craziness. You do - but you can't. So you keep it up and you keep going and you try just one more time. Because next time it will work. Right?
I am blessed with the wonderful husband that I have. Doug wants another baby, too. The act of trying is great. He says it'll happen when it's supposed to. (The nurse at my doctor's office said we just need to go on vacation, or plan something important, because that's when babies are conceived) He is tender and reassuring and calm about it. But, that's my Doug and how he is about everything. He is supportive and understanding in his recent knowledge of everything he didn't realize he didn't want to know about the female reproductive system. He loves me. I am thankful for that every single day.
So we'll keep it up. Maybe next month will be the last month.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Nutcase Behavior
One of my new favorite blogger is The Feminist Breeder. She is an amazing woman with a talent for making a point in a way that speaks to me.
In Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah there is a part where he talks about how you can find the answer to any question you have by just randomly opening a book and the answer will be there. I find this same concept to sometimes apply to the blogs I read. Tonight it did.
I have been suffering through a rather awkward social situation over the last few days. I have been called out and ostracized for speaking my mind and holding people to the same standard that I expect of myself. I am angry over the whole incident and have been trying to decide how much and what to share here. I do not want to resort to a "public" bashing. While I am choosing to take the High Road in the whole situation there is still that voice in the back of my brain that shouts for me to lash out and call out the people for their behavior. I'm angry. And truth be told I'm a little hurt - in a what'd-I-ever-do-to-you kind of way.
Before taking any kind of grand action I decided to clear my head in the blog-o-sphere. It clears my head and helps me to put my words in order. That's when I had my Illusions moment. So, instead of trying to put together some kind of witty blog on my half-mush brain I think I will let TFB do it for me HERE. Thanks for the help, Gina. To those that know what's going on Hell Yeah! and Suck It! depending on which side of the fence you're on. If you don't know what's going on, too damn bad - but I hope you enjoy it anyway, it's a good read.
In Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah there is a part where he talks about how you can find the answer to any question you have by just randomly opening a book and the answer will be there. I find this same concept to sometimes apply to the blogs I read. Tonight it did.
I have been suffering through a rather awkward social situation over the last few days. I have been called out and ostracized for speaking my mind and holding people to the same standard that I expect of myself. I am angry over the whole incident and have been trying to decide how much and what to share here. I do not want to resort to a "public" bashing. While I am choosing to take the High Road in the whole situation there is still that voice in the back of my brain that shouts for me to lash out and call out the people for their behavior. I'm angry. And truth be told I'm a little hurt - in a what'd-I-ever-do-to-you kind of way.
Before taking any kind of grand action I decided to clear my head in the blog-o-sphere. It clears my head and helps me to put my words in order. That's when I had my Illusions moment. So, instead of trying to put together some kind of witty blog on my half-mush brain I think I will let TFB do it for me HERE. Thanks for the help, Gina. To those that know what's going on Hell Yeah! and Suck It! depending on which side of the fence you're on. If you don't know what's going on, too damn bad - but I hope you enjoy it anyway, it's a good read.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Airport Fiasco
While I am generally a fan of going to the airport, tonight was an exception. I find airports to be highly amusing places. It's the best place in the world to people watch.
I went to go pick up Allie and Jane from their flight home from their visit to see their dad. This is something I do about 3 times a year so I'm fairly well versed in how the airport works. Tonight they threw me for a loop. Allie is old enough now that the girls don't fly as Unaccompanied Minors and technically do not require escorts to and from the gate. However, we still do this. It's not a big deal. I go to the ticket counter when I drop them off, let them know that I want to escort them and get a gate pass. I leave my ex-husband's name with them as the person that will be picking them up on the other side and he checks in when he gets there and goes through without incident. This process is then repeated in reverse on the way home. This generally runs rather smoothly. When you do this six times a year you get pretty good at it. For instance, I know that flights to Milwaukee are generally about 20 minutes early. Flights into Seattle are generally about 20 minutes late. Depending on the time of day I know how early I need to get there to get through security in a timely manner and which point to go through. We've had a couple mishaps (like the time his wife forgot to leave my name at the counter) but all in all we've got the process down.
Tonight was a different story. When I got to the ticket counter they were closed. How the hell am I supposed to get a gate pass if there's no one from the airline to help me? I asked a representative from a nearby airline what I could do. She pointed me to the customer service number and suggested I call them. Well, it's Sunday. It's also Easter. The automated line informed me that they had closed for the day some 8 hours earlier. Shit. The arrivals board said that the flight had arrived on time at 10:07, not at 10:57 like it was on the website when I checked earlier in the day. SHIT! I tried the counter at baggage claim but there wasn't a counter for the airline they were on. I called Doug in an obvious panic because I was on one side of security while my kids had possibly been sitting on the other side for close to an hour. He suggested I find our nearest friendly TSA person and explain the situation and see what they could do. So I found one and explained the situation. Thankfully she was what one would expect from our highly trained government employees and was next to no help at all. Was I sure that there was no one at the ticket counter? Um, yes. I could try to talk to another airline. Done. I could have them paged. I'm not even sure the plane has landed but thank you for your "help" and don't strain yourself getting off that stool on my account. I left wondering what exactly the punishment was for punching a government employee for being stupid was.
Then I saw a Port of Seattle officer and decided he couldn't be an less helpful than I had encountered so far and asked for his help. Bless this man! He listened to my story and said that he would meet me at the exit from the terminal once he had his "vehicle". Apparently he was living out fantasies from his youth while watching CHiPs. This little scooter thing was hilarious but I kept my snarky comments to myself since he was being so helpful. He scooted down to the gate where they would be arriving and talked with the ticket people there and found out that the plane was just coming in. He came in and assured me that they would not be left to wander. When I explained that they were not listed as Unaccompanied Minors he zoomed off with the assurance that he would bring them back to me in one piece and that everything would be OK. And he did.
Thank you Mr Port of Seattle Officer. You made an incredibly worrisome experience turn out good in the end.
I went to go pick up Allie and Jane from their flight home from their visit to see their dad. This is something I do about 3 times a year so I'm fairly well versed in how the airport works. Tonight they threw me for a loop. Allie is old enough now that the girls don't fly as Unaccompanied Minors and technically do not require escorts to and from the gate. However, we still do this. It's not a big deal. I go to the ticket counter when I drop them off, let them know that I want to escort them and get a gate pass. I leave my ex-husband's name with them as the person that will be picking them up on the other side and he checks in when he gets there and goes through without incident. This process is then repeated in reverse on the way home. This generally runs rather smoothly. When you do this six times a year you get pretty good at it. For instance, I know that flights to Milwaukee are generally about 20 minutes early. Flights into Seattle are generally about 20 minutes late. Depending on the time of day I know how early I need to get there to get through security in a timely manner and which point to go through. We've had a couple mishaps (like the time his wife forgot to leave my name at the counter) but all in all we've got the process down.
Tonight was a different story. When I got to the ticket counter they were closed. How the hell am I supposed to get a gate pass if there's no one from the airline to help me? I asked a representative from a nearby airline what I could do. She pointed me to the customer service number and suggested I call them. Well, it's Sunday. It's also Easter. The automated line informed me that they had closed for the day some 8 hours earlier. Shit. The arrivals board said that the flight had arrived on time at 10:07, not at 10:57 like it was on the website when I checked earlier in the day. SHIT! I tried the counter at baggage claim but there wasn't a counter for the airline they were on. I called Doug in an obvious panic because I was on one side of security while my kids had possibly been sitting on the other side for close to an hour. He suggested I find our nearest friendly TSA person and explain the situation and see what they could do. So I found one and explained the situation. Thankfully she was what one would expect from our highly trained government employees and was next to no help at all. Was I sure that there was no one at the ticket counter? Um, yes. I could try to talk to another airline. Done. I could have them paged. I'm not even sure the plane has landed but thank you for your "help" and don't strain yourself getting off that stool on my account. I left wondering what exactly the punishment was for punching a government employee for being stupid was.
Then I saw a Port of Seattle officer and decided he couldn't be an less helpful than I had encountered so far and asked for his help. Bless this man! He listened to my story and said that he would meet me at the exit from the terminal once he had his "vehicle". Apparently he was living out fantasies from his youth while watching CHiPs. This little scooter thing was hilarious but I kept my snarky comments to myself since he was being so helpful. He scooted down to the gate where they would be arriving and talked with the ticket people there and found out that the plane was just coming in. He came in and assured me that they would not be left to wander. When I explained that they were not listed as Unaccompanied Minors he zoomed off with the assurance that he would bring them back to me in one piece and that everything would be OK. And he did.
Thank you Mr Port of Seattle Officer. You made an incredibly worrisome experience turn out good in the end.
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