Thanks-istmas

I used to be an electronics buyer for a retailer back in Brooklyn, NY, who was one of the first to run 'Christmas in July' sales many years ago in an effort to increase sales during our traditionally slow summer season.  It was a weird but effective sales strategy and it was kind of fun to help design Christmas ads and decorate the stores while wondering whether or not it was going to be a good weekend to head to the beach.  It was a moment in time, but the real fun happened post-Thanksgiving with the 'official' start of the Christmas season being Black Friday.  My mom and I could not wait to head to the malls the day after we had stuffed ourselves into a food coma to start our holiday shopping.  The anticipation was heightened only by our knowing that this was when we would be able to take advantage of the best sales and feel the excitement of season from the moment we caught sight of the decor adorning the malls and the individual store windows.  I loved that time of year.

Flash forward to the present when the reality is that we actually do start seeing Christmas decor in the stores in July.  Okay, so perhaps that is a slight exaggeration, but it is not unusual to see Christmas in the stores come September alongside Halloween and Thanksgiving and for me it begs the question as to why?  What is the rush? Why have the seasons now become more like #summerfallwinter as opposed to what they used to be, true, distinct seasons when we could enjoy the harvest and the beautiful foliage without having to look past Christmas lights in the process.  I know that given where we live, an argument could be made for installing outdoor lights and decor sooner rather than later so as to capitalize on the slightly warmer weather.  Trust me, as a person who has attempted to drive stakes into already frozen earth to secure our ever-popular Christmas lawn ornaments, I get it, but seeing the lights burning brightly in all there green and red splendor before Veteran's Day saddens me on some level.

The retailers are the biggest culprits in the race to Christmas.  I have already received a mailer and an email plus seen more than one reference on my Instagram feed to the amazing sale next week at a major retailer in which the entire store will be 50% off.  It is called something like the 'Pre-Black Friday Sale.' But, I thought Black Friday was supposed to be the start of the big sales, not some random day a week prior to Thanksgiving.  What the heck?  Where is the sense of anticipation?  Again, it saddens me on some level.

Please don't even get me started on the fact that the stores are now opening on Thanksgiving to start the Black Friday rush even earlier. While I am not a person opposed to shopping on Thanksgiving...I think that once the meal is eaten, the dishes are done and the husband is snoozing in from of the TV, I am all in for a round of shopping...I miss the sense of excitement and wonderment that the building of anticipation about the season made all the sweeter.

This is, of course, merely one woman's opinion, but I hate the thought that the last two weeks before Christmas are going to be filled with post-Christmas/pre-New Year's/Valentine's Day sales. Happy Thanks-istmas everyone!

Being Good is Bad

A few weeks ago I took my children to the dentist and parked my new car in the then empty lot in a small strip mall parking area where the dentist is located.  When their check-ups were complete, we ambled out to find a small SUV butt up against my bumper.  Did I mention it was a new car?  I thought so,  but it bears repeating.  Given that there was a large logo on the side of the car and that that logo matched the one above another store in the mall, I quickly deduced that the driver of the car must be in the store.  Pretty smart, eh?  I pulled my car up a few inches to see if there was any damage because my plan was to let it go if there was none, no harm/no foul.  However, when I saw the scratches and the dent in my bumper, I decided to head on in to see if I could discuss the issue with the driver.  To be honest, given the lows we have been experiencing of late, I was not agitated by the damage but more resigned to the fact that something else had gone awry and I would need to get it fixed.  Rather than drone on about the minutia of finding the driver, I will cut to the chase.  The man walked out of the store and immediately became belligerent, cursing and yelling at me, and calling me some very unsavory names...all in front of my youngest, who took it as his cue to jump in the car.  Even he sensed that this was not going to go well.  This man then accused me of doing the damage 'a week ago' and then attempting to blame him for it.  He continued to yell obscenities at me and then...here is the best part...when I said I was going to call the police, he dared me and then hit me in the arm.  Yup, this out of control man hit me in the arm!  Truly frightened by this erratic and seemingly crazy behavior, I sought help and called the police.  Long story made very short, the police came and he continued to hurl invectives at me, all while telling the police that I was a 'crazy b****.  One of the police officers asked if I wanted to file assault charges and I foolishly said no.  Ah, hindsight is indeed 20/20.

Fast forward to last night, when I received a call from his insurance company stating that...wait for it...they had spoken to the driver and he not only denied hitting my car, but he said that I had hit him instead, therefore, they would not be paying for the damage to my car.  A few things jump out at you after reading that sentence, no?  For instance, you mean to tell me that their 'investigation' consisted of asking the guy if he did the damage???  Honestly?  I wonder how many times the insurance company pays out on damage claims.  They just ask, accept the answer and move on?  The gentleman from the insurance company did not question this driver as to how I could have hit his car if I was not driving my car at the time and was, in fact, in the dentist office?  Nah.  Why bother to truly investigate the claim?  Hey, the guy said he did not do it, right?

So, a couple of personal observations from this experience.  First, I should have put aside my fear about charging him with assault and I definitely should have done so.  He put my children in jeopardy and he certainly 'terrorized' me and touched me.  Yes, as the policewoman pointed out, even a hit in the arm is assault. Second, shame on him for truly being all the things he called me and more.  He could not even keep his anger under control when speaking to the police.  Third, three words. Anger management classes.  Get some help.  There are more things swirling through my head as relates to this incident but the last thing I want to comment on is the insurance company and their lack of due diligence.  It was insulting to receive a call like that after having gone through the stress of dealing with this driver.  I had to call the police on this guy and their investigation of the claim is based solely on the fact this guy said he did not do it.

While I don't know any more of this driver's character than what he showed me himself that day, I am sure of one thing.  Despite his wild show of anger, he is one lucky guy.  I,  on the other hand, now have a damaged car and a damaged view of justice to boot.

I Don't Want To!

I hate change.  Though I must admit that I used to be a card carrying member of the Lover Of Change Club, that card received a ritualistic burning once the changes in my life became fast and furious, out of my control, and none too pleasant.  One of my best friends, a true hater of change herself, could never understand why I so openly embraced the opportunity to try something new or to purge the house of things I no longer needed or wanted.  Every single piece of her life, each trinket or souvenir, means so much to her.  It is almost as if, should she get rid of something collecting dust, her memory of that item or time in her life would vanish leaving her feeling empty.  There was once an opportunity for her to move to a larger home with the storage that she craved but lacked, but though she did consider it--for about 30 seconds--she ended up staying where she was because the thought of packing and leaving the house in which her son had grown up, paralyzed her.

My metamorphosis from loving change to hating it was a slow one, an almost imperceptible wearing away starting from from the time of my husband's first round of unemployment, through the second, third and now (come tomorrow) fourth time and my son heading off to college.  Nothing pleads 'no more change' quite like your first born leaving the nest.  Ouch! For all the positives for them, watching as my children move out of our house and on to their own lives is not all fun and games for me.  We are about 7 weeks into his freshman year and I am still waiting for him to pack up and come home, so that we can return to what I once knew was normal.

Tomorrow, Halloween, I will be facing yet another change, one my youngest brought to light when he was feeling sad the other day.  When I asked why he was feeling down, he told me that he was concerned about Halloween because my oldest used to orchestrate a big candy trade and this year just wouldn't be the same without it. I don't know how my oldest did it because he stopped actually trick or treating a few years ago, but he would tag along walking our dog. But, when we returned home,  he could take two random pieces of candy and parlay them into a bag full during this candy trade.  Talk about skill.  In reality, he took candy from his siblings that they did not like and then traded it back to them for stuff he liked.  They never knew what hit them.  I still don't understand how it always worked in his favor beyond the fact that he is one persuasive guy and could make them think that the candy they disliked was actually the best of the loot.

So, yes, children grow up, people lose jobs...OK, can this be the last time for a good long while, please?...but at least one thing remains a constant.  Crazy college kids...my son informed me that he wore a gorilla costume to lacrosse practice last night.  Doesn't everyone?

Happy Halloween!

Back in the Game

As we move closer to October 31st, I am becoming increasingly more bitter as the previous post outlines.I have been searching for a part-time job of late, but I must admit to being cranky about that as well.  We all have certain expectations of where we might be at a particular time in our lives and this was definitely not part of my plan while I still had a child in lower school.  I am also so exhausted and jaded from the almost five year long quest to help my husband find a job, that the last thing (and I mean the very last thing) that I want to be doing right now is looking for a position for myself.  That said, in doing so I have encountered certain problems that I would like to share with my readers. Here are but a few of the things hampering my search (I even took the time to come up with a title for them.  Nice, huh?)

                  5 Ways to Know You Have Not Searched for a Job in a Really Really Long Time

1.  Applications are now online.  No paper applications?  No attaching a physical resume?  Computers?  It is a whole new world for this job seeker.

2.  Most recent experience exceeds oldest's child' age (and for me that would be 18 years)

3.  Not one but two previous employers have since closed up shop and an additional one switched from being a college to being a university.  Crazy times, try not putting in a phone number/address on an asterisked entry on an online job application and see how far you get. (For those of you who have never attempted to do so, you will not move forward to the next page.  Game over)

4.  Near impossible to come up with two or three professional references as a result of #3 or death of potential reference.

5.  Stating your college/grad school graduation date elicits fear in your heart as a little simple addition and whamo, everyone knows you are not 29 years old anymore.

I could go on and on but, honestly, it is Monday and that is bad enough, so why belabor the point.  The bottom line is that if I could only find an employer who would throw a blind eye to my quasi-ancient experience and age, lack of professional references through no fault of my own, and could accommodate my desire to work online/remotely/virtually (or whatever the 'nom du jour' for telecommuting is these days), I would be golden.  But, if an online application could be developed to accommodate those attempting to return to the work force after a protracted number of years without the benefit of three living professional references and not loving the idea of stating her graduation date (I will provide the copy of the degree if we can allow the graduation date to be the elephant in the room), that would be even better.

Isn't It Ironic?

I got 'the call' a little while ago.  This is a call that no matter how many times I receive it (and so far, I have gotten it three times prior to today in almost 5 years), I will never be ready to accept it.  Yes, loyal readers, I am sure you can surmise by now that I received a call from my husband telling me that, come October 31st, he will be out of a job again, due to budget cuts.  The first time he called me to relay the 'happy' news, it was a glorious, sunny day...a Tuesday, if you must know...with the most beautifu, deep blue sky.  I must admit I had been having a great day as well until I was blind-sided by the terrible news.  Interestingly, there seems to be a causal relationship between the weather and this type of call for us as each subsequent time my husband relayed the end of yet another term of employment, the day was bright and sunny and today is no different.

There is, however, a big difference in my reactions.  The first time I was completely shocked and terrified but yet I possessed a strange and unusual optimism that perhaps he could find a new job quickly and we would rebound, possibly even with a better job.  Ha! Twenty-months later (!!!), when he landed this fabulous position in exactly the place I wanted to be living, I figured we had paid our dues and we were being rewarded for our diligence and faith. Then, on that exquisite day in April, when I got the call saying that after only 5 weeks of employment, we were again without a job (and that our hope of moving back home had been shot to hell as well), I was less optimistic that this whole finding a new job thing was going to work in our favor. Flash  forward nine months to the next position with a very solid company and I thought we had survived the worst time of our lives.  Wrong! Apparently, the worst time was yet to come as eight months later...surprise...the holidays are coming and we are unemployed yet again. Clearly, the powers that be are not finished with us as 5 months later, the new position has now led us to crash and burn yet again...on a beautiful, sunny day, that had been going pretty well for me until 'the call'...just before the holidays.

So, by now you should be wondering what this blog is all about beyond me just venting about our lot in life.  Sadly, I must say that right now, the post is what it is.  I am frustrated and angry, tired of trying to be optimistic when we are trapped in a seemingly never-ending cycle of get job--lose job--spend months searching for new job--get 'the call'--start all over again.  Even as I re-read this post, our story sounds positively unbelievable.  If I saw a movie with this plot, I would hate it because it seems unreal, almost comedic.  Too bad it is not.  Too bad it is our life.

Once bitten, twice shy.  Four times bitten, bitter in perpetuity.

Baloney

It has been exactly one week since we dropped my oldest son at college and I have some observations that I would like to share with you.  Please note that the following are in no particular order.

1. It stinks!  No, really.  I was told over and over again that I would get used to it, maybe even learn to enjoy having to buy less food, do less laundry and focus more on my other children.  Hooey!  News flash, my food bill this week was the same as last week, I am a complete laundry fanatic so less is definitely not more in my book and as for the other children?  I have had multiple friends tell me that I am the only person they know who has four children, but who treats them each as though they were only children.  They always get plenty of attention, trust me.

2.  Time may be my friend ( a lovely acquaintance told me that once),  but while I have come to accept this new normal, I will never, ever like it.

3.  College life disrupts the familial dynamic.  For instance, 'college boy' and I have a very close relationship but, apparently, it is not as close as I had thought when we are on the phone.  All of a sudden, my chatty son, with whom I have engaged in sparkling conversation while in high school, has now become a monosyllabic wonder.  He does call me per our 'communication plan' that everyone told me we needed to have before he left ('give him some control,' 'don't overwhelm him with having to call home all the time'...yeah yeah yeah), but it is like pulling teeth to get him to communicate during the calls.  I am seeing a pattern, however, that I think is part of his master plan.  He calls thus fulfilling his end of the deal, he talks about what he wants to, I ask a question, he suddenly becomes too busy to continue the conversation and hangs up. I did get a couple of calls about doing the wash this morning that were quite interactive, however.  Yay!

4.  No matter how many books I read on the subject nor how many internet articles I digested, nothing could have prepared me for how abruptly I went from knowing so much about my son and his life to (a mere one week later) him having a life of his own.  Some days I simply cannot get my brain around that.  He is off at school making friends I have not yet met, taking classes I know little about and seeing and doing things about which I had no input.  Some might say that this was seventeen years in the making but to me, it seems like only yesterday he had my neck in a vice grip during music class when the instructor took out a puppet to show the class. Yup, terrified of the puppet.  Surely he was scared for life.

This is certainly a learning experience for us both, but I know he got the better end of the deal.  He is off starting his own independent life with new experiences, challenges and rewards.  While I am here in our old life, only without him as a part of our day to day, missing him like crazy and hoping that he remembers to continue to call home for more than just advice about his laundry.

Disoriented

I must admit that I have been debating as to whether or not to write this post for a few days for reasons ranging from this being a very sensitive topic for me to not really wanting to put my 'feelings out there' because it is a topic so close to my heart.  I also know that while there is a wide range of emotions possible concerning this topic, at least in my neck of the woods, I am somewhat of a lone wolf.  All that said, I have been receiving such encouragement from friends to blog about this that I decided to tell it like it is.  Before proceeding, please remember that just because we may not share the same viewpoint on this topic, dear readers, we are each entitled to that viewpoint or feeling.  Remember what your mom told you about if you don't have anything nice to say...okay?

We dropped my oldest off at college yesterday morning and I am taking it hard, very, very hard.  I feel such a profound sense of loss in our home and a weird, almost other-wordly, anxiety.  I think my husband said it best when he reminded me that all the other events we had done with our children included adding to our family.  This is the first time that we are subtracting from it and it is painful.  I had worked myself up into a beautiful frenzy all last week in anticipation of the big departure.  I did not miss 'one last' with my son (even though I tried to keep my mind from going there, my other children never missed an opportunity to remind me) from the last meal I would prepare for him as a transitional child--not a higher schooler anymore/not yet in college--to the last walk he took with Phoebe, our dog, and everything in between.  We all know how obsessive I can be, right?  Well, I found out I had new talents in that area as well.  Yay me!  I have spoken to quite a few of my friends who dropped their boys off a week earlier and who are still having trouble going into their sons' rooms or falling apart at random times during the day.  I can only imagine how long it will take me to even be close to having a day without tears.

The issue is not that he will be unhappy or that I am worried about him at college (okay, maybe a little).  The issue is all mine, the loss of his childhood, the feeling of having run out of time.  He is there having the time of his life, the start of his independence with new friends, perhaps a girlfriend, interesting classes and activities.  The sky is the limit.  I am here in the same home we shared grappling with memories and feeling selfish about wanting to share the next chapter of his life as I have done every chapter before.  It is a new feeling and one that I am not comfortable with as yet.  One friend told me that she cried for two weeks straight after dropping her daughter off at college while another told me that it took her sister an entire year to become totally comfortable with dropping her son off at school.  One of my oldest friends ended up in therapy as a result of her boys leaving a year apart.  The empty nest is a prickly place sometimes.  Thank heaven I still have three more little birds in mine.  My youngest knows that where ever he goes to college, we are going with him!  he had better choose a great school in an even greater climate.

I just got off the phone with my freshman and he sounds very good, a little off kilter,  but that is to be expected during this transitional time.  Growing up is hard on everyone, perhaps on this mom most of all.