The Numbers, Time Warp, Poop, Vomit and Irritating People Day

So, yeah, a good day all around.


I am in a bind at work.  I have taken on a massive job to help spend money that must be spent in order to protect our grant.  But the job hasn't gone as smoothly as I'd figured and, effective Wednesday, I'll be down to four classes from the usual 18 because of summer schedules.  Those four classes, three of which are low producers, have now got two weeks to do as much of the remaining 45,000 pieces.  It ain't gonna happen.


To complicate things further, I've had one of those weeks with roadblock after roadblock.  For example, Margaret was sick on Wednesday, which never happens.  Nance was stuck schlepping boxes of completed work from schools in three cities to the employer.


Today I stopped at our office to pick up three small jobs that had been dropped off.  I can't lift the boxes, so I asked for help.  Should have been out of there in 10 minutes, max.  Half an hour later I called to see if maybe the facilities guy had forgotten about me.  Nope, he was just stuck dealing with an IT problem so the IT people don't have to come out.


I was so late getting out of there that I went straight to my chiropractic appointment.  I'm usually there for 10-15 minutes.  Today, naturally, I was there almost 45 minutes.  Because of the short schedules for some classes, it meant not being able to get to one of my schools where the big job is being done.


I picked up Madelyn later than I care to on a Friday afternoon.  About two minutes after traffic leading up to the Cajon Pass came to a complete halt, Corey called to say he needs to provide drinks for tonight's band event and can I have them there in half an hour.


Uh, no, but I will get them there.


I called Tom to ask where one could get cold 2-liters of soda.  He suggested checking a pizza place.  Mad and I stopped at Papa John's, where I noticed the distinct aroma of a dirty diaper... coming from my daughter, not the "restaurant."  Not much I could do right then, so we made the purchase and headed over to find Corey... who realized he had forgotten to bring appropriate clothes to school for the big event.  Oh, and call time was in three minutes.


The three of us headed home so Corey could locate his stuff and I could clean up Mad.  Just as we pulled into our neighborhood, Mad puked.  Repeatedly.  All over herself and her carseat.


Change of plans.  I sent Corey in to find what he needed before we raced back to school.


Corey had no idea what time the event would end, so I had him ask his teacher.  Her response?  "When it's over."


Really?  (This woman has driven me nuts all year with her similarly unhelpful and immature remarks to Corey, but I haven't addressed it because of his own behavior.  Sometimes I am compelled to act like an idiot around him, too.)


I have her cell phone number and called to get a better answer, but she didn't pick up.  So I pulled around to the band room, dragged my puke and poop covered daughter out of her nasty carseat and marched into the class, where I asked to speak with her privately.


I expressed, rather clearly, that I had sent Corey for an answer.  Because of the situation with my (smelly) daughter, I couldn't attend the event that night and I needed to arrange for someone to pick Corey up (Tom has trainings down the hill on Friday nights).  And, while I understood that she and Corey haven't gotten along all year, I didn't appreciate her lack of professionalism.


She, the woman who just last night was among the crowd of people laughing when Corey mentioned that his name is really Corcheval, not Corey, had the nerve to say that she and he have been getting along great this semester.


"That's your side, but that's not what I hear.  Now what time can I pick him up?"


She couldn't narrow down a specific time, but I did at least get a ballpark.  I called Tom and asked him to skip the training because I don't want to have to put Mad back into her carseat until I can clean it.


I brought Mad home, stripped her down, tossed her in the tub and flung her into bed.  Well, not quite like that, but she's clearly not feeling well and went to bed without dinner.  I wonder if she'll be up later?


Tom came in and we talked about our days.  Then he mentioned that he made plans for tennis on Sunday. 


Know what Sunday is?  The one day that I've asked him to leave for family things.  Like his birthday.


Calgon?  Anyone?

Jerry Springer, Wherefore Art Thou?

I'm just gonna lay it all out there.


Temper tantrums are many things, including annoying, scary, loud... and did I mention annoying?  I've had to deal with a few lately.  Here's the real problem:  Mad is not having them (oh sure, she occasionally gives it a go, but she's too good a sport still to keep it up).  No, it's Corey.


One of the things we do when he's losing his mind is send him out of the house for a walk.  When this happened the day he got suspended, he first tried to kick down the gate on one side of our house.  The other night, after we had to call a family meeting... and included Lisa and her family (in front of whom Corey was a perfect gentleman... so don't tell me he can't control himself), he tried beating a broomstick on the ground to break it.  He was out in the front yard and, yes, neighbors were watching.  When that didn't work, he tried smacking the side of the house.  In both cases, I quietly but firmly asserted that if he destroyed anything, I would call the police.  Meanwhile I'm thinking "Please don't make me call the police!"  That night I had to send him out three times.  The last time I told him that if he so much as tripped on a stone on his way to the sidewalk, I would make the call.  (Yes, overly dramatic on my part... *sigh*... I know.)  Upon returning he seemed remorseful and we ended up on a semi-polite note.


Since then, things have been like a magic carpet ride, but without the psychedelic colors.  At the moment, Corey and Lisa can only see one another at school until they each start making better decisions (I'll let your imaginations fill in the reasons why).  Even though she's part of the problem, I'm hoping that Lisa is part of the solution, too.  I saw her last night.  She apologized for having Corey in her seventh period (he doesn't have one; why the teacher let him be there is still unfathomable) and then taking him to an after school sewing class (because yeah... Corey had an unfulfilled desire to make a bag that attaches to the side of a table... who knew?!).  I've talked with both of them about helping one another make the right decisions so they can be together.


The adults in Lisa's life are all fabulous in their own ways.  We are bonding over the kids, but they are typically not my type of people.  For example, the people I refer to as Lisa's parents are really her aunt and uncle.  Except that the man I thought was her uncle is really her aunt/mom's boyfriend.  This was made clear last night when Lisa's uncle accompanied her over to my car to apologize. 


Don't worry, I pulled it off and he never knew I spent 10 minutes wondering if this was the boyfriend I'd heard about.  It was kind of fun trying to explain it all to Tom later.  He has requested a chart.


Corey, as it turns out, is not the only Jerry Springer Fan Club member in my family.  Here's a little white trash history:


My mom and her first husband, Russ, had my brother and I.  This was in the sex, drugs and rock 'n roll age (and no, I'm not lying when I say my parents almost named me Pebbles Flint Stone).  Eventually Russ met a 17 year-old girl named after a piece of fruit.  Russ and his best friend, Craig, handcuffed said girl so Russ could kiss her.  I was about three months old.


To her credit, Fruit Girl had him arrested.  To enter the JSFC, she also pretty much immediately fell in love and soon after was pregnant with her first daughter.


At that time, Craig was married to his second wife, Darlene, a crazy-ass yotch who bore him a daughter and a son.


Somewhere in the drugged and boozy haze, Craig and Darlene divorced.  He got the kids (for a man to get full custody back in the early-ish '70s was insane, so imagine what Darlene was like).  Mom and Craig hooked up (the order of things varies depends upon who tells the story).  I was two or so.  They married when I was five, separated when I was 13, got back together and divorced two years later.  Despite some pretty lame-assed decisions on his part, the man has always been there for me.  He is Dad.  His daughter is my sister and one of my best friends.  His son is... well... I refer to him as my stepbrother and leave it at that.


I mostly didn't see or hear from Russ when I was a kid.  There was once at age 5, once at 11 and then he started coming by whenever he was in town when I was 16 or 17.  I was kind of excited to have him in my life.  His wife (the fruit woman) calls herself my Wicked Stepmom.  She calls me her Sweet Pea.  I love her like an aunt or an older sister.


Dad remarried three days after his divorce from Mom was final, and the new wife wasn't exactly keen on having his ex-wife's kids hanging around.  It didn't stop him from rescuing us all when we were in a bad car accident, though.  Or when my crappy little car was stolen and taken on a high speed police chase.  Again, always there...


His wife slowly accepted me.  In a soap-opera-worthy turn of events, she saw that I am devoted to her husband and, because of him, to her when she, her two daughters and their five kids were in a multiple-rollover accident that almost cost Margaret her ability to walk and almost took her grandson from all of us.  (It took me three tries to over two weeks to get all the blood and debris from her hair... or at least from the part she wasn't resting on.)


Margaret is the woman who watches Madelyn every day.  Today she told me (again) how she always tells people she's so lucky to have a granddaughter to watch who is such a joy.  We don't know what we'd do without Margaret.


For a while I felt as though I had two dads.  Some people might call one Dad and the other Father.  I tried that mentally and it didn't work.  With Russ I vacillated between Russ and Dad.


As I got to know more about that part of my family, I was put off by the lies Russ had told over the years.  We always thought he had a Purple Heart because the helicopter he was piloting in Viet Nam crashed... or because of something to do with shrapnel.  Compare that to the truth:  The jeep he was driving (badly, as per usual from my experience) in Japan rolled into a ditch during war time.  Those surgeries at the VA?  Yeah, he has a medical ass problem.  There are more lies that span his entire life.


Somewhere in my early adulthood I learned he was having an affair.  Wicked Stepmom was shattered, but they were able to reconcile.  Seven or eight years ago he admitted that it had never stopped and it wasn't going to.  Wicked Stepmom has her own reasons for staying; some from necessity, others are, I'm pretty sure, required to maintain membership in the JSFC.


Russ and I haven't spoken since then, but I talk with his wife 1-2 times a month and keep in touch with one sister via Facebook.


And here's where it gets weird (I know!)... tonight I received an email from someone I didn't recognize.  The subject regarded something I'd gotten from other people, though, so I opened it.  It was from Russ.  No personal message... he was just forwarding something that everyone else in my family had sent around.***  Maybe he's working on a JSFC coup... a takeover of the presidency or something.


***That's another family trait of ours.  If my aunt sends something to Mom, Bro and me then Mom and Bro will send it to all the same people, plus some of their friends, who are also my friends.  Each and every one of them apparently fears I might have been left out.  Sometimes things make two full rounds!