Fruitless Complaining: August 2008 Archives

another long stupid story, but stick around for the t-shirt part. We decided to put the two oldest is public school. In order to do that we needed their immunizations records. My husband went by our old doctor's office (we just switched doctors like 2 weeks ago) to sign a release form and get the records. there were no records. Unfortunately, I know why. When we moved from NJ to upstate NY in '99, we doctor hunted for a bit and there was a delay in transferring records until we settled. Somewhere around 2002-2003, it was brought to our attention the records were never transferred. I proceeded to call our old doc's office and got a lecture about "well, those records are super buried," I just decided to mail a medical release form and assumed that was the end of it. Since the kids are home schooled, I never had a need to check. Well, my request was ignored.

My husband called and got the same lecture-I think the woman taped it and replayed it from the last time. But thank you Dear Husband, his reply was something like "well I don't give a crap, I need those records." He called the next day and got more attitude. So we decided on Plan B. we called the County Health Office and asked about having the kid's shots redone because by the time these people get off their posteriors...County Health said that idea was fine, it shouldn't hurt them medically and just get a note saying they got their first round of shots...First i called our brand new family practitioner. Another problem,he doesn't do immunizations. He prefers patients 5 and up because he doesn't have enough pediatric patients to keep immunizations around.

Sooo, I call the local pediatrician (there are two, and one happened to be my previous landlord, so we refuse to go to him). We explain the situation, they say "fine", just change your insurance. I did. I called again and explained to make the appointment. OK, no problem. Yesterday was the appointment. When I get there, I explain the kids are new patients because the receptionist seemed baffled by my lack of records. We are waiting and the other four kids with me, especially the two youngest are not behaving, they are commotion making, and one of course had to have an "accident". When the receptionist called my oldest two in, I asked her if they could just go in as I had all the smaller children, and explained again what they needed-their first round of shots for school as we cannot locate their records, and a note to the schools stating they got their first round and will continue to get the rest of their immunizations.

The doctor refused to give them their shots because they didn't have their records. But while they were in the office, he gave them a lecture about what's wrong with home schooling: "Does your mother know physics? Does she know calculus? I'm a doctor and I don't even know physics and calculus. That's why you need to be in school." Are you freakin' kidding me?

My friend says I really need the t-shirt that says: " please comment on my life. i need your judgment"

I thought I must have been wearing the shirt, but my friend pointed out that since I home school, it is not legible. If I had the shirt, I would seriously wear it at this point.

Yesterday, when I told my husband this story, he called the doc's office in NJ back and yelled at them some more, so they should be faxing the records over today.

Update: The doctor did fax over the immunization records. That is done. There was trouble deciding what grade to put Rosey Posey into because the home schooling contact person at the School Board would not return my calls. My husband went to the school and complained. The guidance counselor called right back today, put her in 10th grade and even said to Rosey Posey over the phone "there should be no problem because you home schoolers are always advanced."

Now I am hearing the middle school is worse than the public. A friend of mine is getting me an application for the local Catholic school (which is supposedly one of the few orthodox Catholic schools in the diocese) for tuition assistance. I wasn't going to put them in the Catholic school because we cannot afford it. My friend said they give out so much assistance to non-practicing Catholics, she would rather see people from families like mine helped out and to spread a genuine Catholic atmosphere in their parish school. What a nice compliment. :)

This past weekend we revealed to the last of the four parents that we are expecting again, which was met with the usual-absolute anger and disgust. My father-in-law who happily admits he wanted his son aborted is angry. Whatever. I want a new family.

Well, that's done with. All parents and grandparents down. Not a single congratulations. Just anger form people who take as little interest in our lives as possible in the best of circumstances. I'm beat.

Trying to be fun and creative while pregnant. I am almost sure my morning sickness is starting to abate...finally! I no longer experience sea sickness from trying to concentrate on things like books, or sewing. I have been able to do my daily minimum of three loads each day. Although don't ask me to plan a decent meal just yet that doesn't involve something frozen. Let's not push it.

But the absent mindedness-this is ridiculous! I tried to sew the simplest top for my daughter today, and what a fiasco I got myself into! It was going to be a nice Sunday project and a surprise for my daughter. I think the stupid thing had like 7 steps total or something like that. First I couldn't thread my serger. I just sat there staring at the dang thing looking at the arrows wondering what to do next. Then the instructions might as well have been in Greek or upside down. I kept getting the steps wrong. Normally, I have been sewing long enough that I've seen the steps so many times before, so they need not be scrutinized too carefully. For example, I don't have to read how to hem a skirt, or even need the instructions to tell me that is the last step. But I made the dumbest mistakes. I kept sewing the wrong pieces together when I totally knew better and wonder "why on earth did I do that?" Then I went to press the interfacing onto a piece of fabric, but had it upside down, so I only succeeded in getting it stuck to the ironing board. I was like in this perpetual state of dysfunction.

At the time it was frustrating, now it is almost comical.Today I learned a valuable lesson: if I am going to sew for fun these days, realize that is all it is going to amount to: fun , but don't expect anything to be worn...unless it is out of revenge.

Berylla was fussy because her brothers were running in and out, playing with their friends, and she wanted to go outside too. I usually do not like going out with her these days because I am not very fast (we live on a busy street), and she is. My oldest son said he would watch her and it was about time for Daddy to come home. So I plopped myself out on the front porch and and directed traffic: "Posco," (my 13-year old on Oct. 12) "there goes Berylla getting close to the edge of the parking lot, get her before she gets in the street. Posco, she ran to the other side of the house and I can't see her, please get her...and so it went on" My husband came home and I went in and stood inside by the door for a few minutes to go over the events of the day and told Posco "I'm going in for second, watch her," The usual fun with Berylla is her running around the house and Posco or another brother chasing after her...over and over and over...you get the picture. Toddler amusement.

Before I go any further, I suppose I should describe my house. We live in a largish Victorian house that is divided into four apartments on a street corner. The front of the house has three porches, two in front on either side sort of tucked into the sides of the house for the ground floor apartments (mine is the on on the far right), and one large porch in the middle for the two upstairs apartment entryways. On the right side is a small parking lot for tenants only (and only two of us even have cars) where the kids play. When I went inside, Berylla was there with three siblings and two neighbor kids playing with sidewalk chalk.

At some point the kids, and myself noticed two ladies standing all the way on the other side of the house. They were difficult to see, no, impossible to see unless I walked all the way in front of the house and stood on the side walk and looked at them. I think this is important because if they do not, from their angle, bother to look and see if someone is sitting on my porch, they have no idea if someone is there or not. I had no idea why they were there and thought maybe they were waiting for a neighbor or the landlord because we have two neighbors in the midst of moving. But they just stood there refusing to look up at anyone.

Posco came around chasing Berylla and he stopped to ask me a few questions such as when does school start, what time does he have to get up, etc. etc. Berylla was kind of picking up stones and walking back and forth until she lost interest and started to cross to the other side of the house. As she did that, I noticed a police car pull up to the curb in front of the other side of the house. I thought nothing of it because as this is near a busy intersection, they tend to stop here. Nevertheless, I asked Posco "please go get Berylla before she wanders into the street."

"Whaaaa?" (remember, 13) (Posco can see her from where he is because he keeps looking up at her)

"Berylla! There. Street! Now!"

"Oh, there,"

So Posco wanders in front of the house and gets her. The police officer stops him and asks "do you know this little boy?" To which Posco replies "this is my sister". The police officer follows him over to me and I get up.

"is this your little boy?"

I am baffled because Ian is not quite a "little boy", then I realize he meant Fifi despite the fact she was wearing pink flowered capris, a white gauze peasant top with embroidered flowers, and bobby socks with white Keds sneakers-very androgynous (um, NOT).

"Um, yes that is my daughter,"

"do you realize she just almost went into the street,"

"I didn't realize she got that close to the street yet, but that is why I sent my son to get her and bring her back here,"

"Well, do you have any idea what child endangerment is? Letting children run around by themselves is not safe!"

And me thinking what happened was he just saved her from running into the street I started to cry and said "I asked him to get her. I'm, well you can see I don't move too fast, " (I stop short not wanting to draw attention to my pregnancy and the hwole irresponsible with too many kids thing)... so I asked him...I thought he would get her in time..."

"OK, OK, what's your name..."

So I give him my name, house number, middle name, phone number, DOB, and he goes back to his car (again, on the other side of the front of the house so I can't see him, I just knw he is over there). I assume he is in the car doing that thing officers do when they give out tickets. My husband came out and it didn't occur to me until he stepped out and noticed right away that he was not in his car, but he was talking to the two women. The two women left and the officer came back.

The officer comes back and demands "are you the father?!?" My husband asked what is happening here. The officer said something about Berylla running around unsupervised and almost getting hit by a car. Now I am semi-hysterical and still thinking that when Berylla was in front of the house a few minutes ago, she ran into the street, and that is what all this is about. Later, Posco told me she was just in front of the house, and was baffled why I kept asking him "why didn't you get her out of the street in time?" My husband, who smells something fishy right away demands "who are those two women?" the officer gets steps back and yells "that was the lady that almost hit your child, but stopped and saved your child's life! You should be grateful. You need to lose your attitude now!" And you know what? He puts his friggin' hand on his weapon! I say "Polo, please,"

My husband states "I'm not getting an attitude, but I want to know who they are and what's going on here"

"Well, it sounds like you have an attitude to me, and I don't like it." The best way I can describe it is like the officer's hackles start to raise. Hand still on his weapon.

My husband says "nevermind" and backs away, but I can see steam rising. Thankfully the officer leaves.

It only hit me then that someone called the police on us, as opposed to what I thought, that the officer was simply driving by and wanted to make sure Berylla was supervised.

Immediately, I call Home School Legal Defense. Our lawyer said that most likely we can expect a visit from a social worker tonight (he doubted it and it hasn't happened), or tomorrow, but most likely without a warrant. He said if and when they come, do not allow them to enter or say anything to them. Just give them my lawyer's name and number and they will take care of it. If they do have a warrant, check the warrant, make sure all is in order, and do not allow them to come in until I get my lawyer on the phone..and "don't worry, you can handle this..."

Afterwards we compared stories. When my husband came outside, he was instantly annoyed because he heard one of the ladies tell the officer "and there was absolutely no adult supervision anywhere!" No one, not one of the kids, not I remembers Berylla running into the street. Granted I was inside for a few minutes, but I also listen out. The front street is very busy. If a child is in the street, there would the sound of slamming on brakes and screeching. If they picked her up, why did no one see Berylla with them? Berylla would have screamed bloody murder had a stranger picked her up. And if they picked her up and brought her back, where did they bring her? To the other side of the house to run back into the street? Down the street? If she was all alone, why would they put her back where she was and not have stayed with her? If they put her back within the circle of her running around the house where was that, that we didn't notice?

No, these are people who for what ever reason (I have suspicions I will not state here) wanted to make trouble. So many times either kids of my own (every kid has done it once) has run into the street, or wandered off, and that has been the only truly spankable offense. When I have been on the side of the rescuer, I pick up the kid, knock in the closest door and say "your little one was in the street," The parents are usually grateful and say something about being more astute. Twice I had children who literally escaped out the front door, and I thought they were safe behind a locked door. Same thing, a neighbor rescued them and brought them to me. I was more than grateful. I bought alarms to stick on the door to warn me.

So why they called the police and told them they saw a little 2-year old boy wandering around with no adults, I can only guess at. The reason why I stress the "boy" thing is again, if they were so observant of what was happening, and picked up a child and saved her, how did they not notice the pink flowers and gauze top? But then again, I often notice details like that and people tell me they never see that stuff.

I also think the officer didn't allow us to address them because in the obvious flaws in the story. However, our lawyer said he should not have raised his voice at my husband and reached for his weapon.

Still, we can expect a visit tomorrow and I am not looking forward to it. I desperately need prayers. I have had a really weird week.

but I will hold off because complaining gets me nowhere...

On the 4th of July, I was at a get together at a girlfriend's house along with some of her extended family. I was having a conversation with her where we were talking about one of our recent fun adventures of the flu going through the house, and our jobs as mothers to clean up, diagnose, feed and care for people despite having the flu ourselves. Her brother with motives I will never understand, randomly made the comment in passing "Oh, you're friggin' hypochondriac, Man!" It was an odd remark as it was out of place as there was nothing to the conversation that was out of the ordinary. She was shaken by this remark. Like me, she has family members that actually are hypochondriacs, and many of us who have been affected by this behavior tend to underplay when we are sick so as not to be perceived as a hypochondriac.

Unfortunately this in and of itself is not healthy either as people tend to ignore simple health problems like a persistent cold and cough until it turns into full blown pneumonia, as was the case with my girlfriend. I have a feeling she was hoping her family would note the contrast between her and her hypochondriac family member, but in turn they just ended up rolling their eyes for making mountains out of molehills and being hospitalized for pneumonia. So when her brother made this remark she stopped short and told him she has always striven, albeit perhaps not in the most healthy manner, to not be that type of person and it hurt her deeply to hear that remark because of it. Her brother's reaction was simply to wave his hand in the air and say "Oh, lighten up already! You can't take a joke." End of discussion.

I was there and I have seen this over and over again. People saying something really stupid with the original intent to injure. The remarks are usually an attack on character as opposed just simply remembering something that could be construed as funny. It is never "oh gosh, I remember that time we went to the movies and spilled the popcorn, and while you tried to pick up the popcorn, your kid spilled the soda-it seemed like you couldn't cut a break that day!" It is more along the lines of "You're such a klutz!" When the person they are referring to does not simply lie down and be insulted, they take no responsibility by saying "oh that was a joke, such and such needs to lighten up and be able to laugh at themselves."

It is so common that I wonder why it is not common bad etiquette like telling your host they are a horrible cook or racial slurs. But then again, I noticed that people who subscribe to this kind of behavior have no respect for personal boundaries anyway.

Last week I was happy to see someone else had addressed this behavior before, none other than C.S. Lewis in The Screwtape Letters:

The real use of Jokes or Humour in in quite a different direction, and it is sepcially promised among the English who take their 'sense of humour' so seriously that deficiency in this sense is almost the only deficiency at which they feel shame. Humour is for them the all-consoling and (mark this) the all-excusing, grace of life. Hence it is invaluable as a means of destroying shame. If a man simply let's other pay for him, he is 'mean'; if he boasts of it in a jocular manner and twits his fellows with having been scored off, he is no longer 'mean' but a comical fellow. Mere cowardice is shameful; cowardice boasted of with humorous exaggerations and grotesque gestures can be passed off as funny. Cruelty is shameful-unless the cruel man can represent it as a practical joke. A thousand bawdy, or even blasphemous, jokes do not help towards a man's damnation so much as his discovery that almost anything he wants to do can be done, not only without the disapproval but with admiration of his fellows, if only it can get itself treated as a Joke. And this temptation can almost be entirely hidden from your patient by that English seriousness about Humour. Any suggestion that there might be too much of it can be represented to him as 'Puritanical' or as betraying a 'lack of humour'.

I guess that means ceviche is out too? I suppose that would make sense since the prohibition is against raw fish as opposed to Japanese food. I am craving everything I can't eat: hoagies, sushi, bleu and Camembert cheese. I read somewhere that once something is prohibited, that is exactly what you want, but I think the answer is simpler than that-it's summer and cold, simple food is appealing in summer.

i may go splurge on some veggie sushi...

(I know, really deep after the Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn tribute.)