Last night was the local high school's prom. As I was looking at all the prom photos on Facebook, I kept thinking, has it really been almost a year since the College Student graduated from high school? Why, yes it has. She has almost a complete year of college under her belt, and it's been a growth experience for both her and her parents. I can't speak for her, but I'm having to learn how to restrain my inner urge to solve any problem I am confronted with- even when it's not exactly my problem to solve.
Recently, I was reading about something called "snowplow parenting", in which parents not only helicopter but they actively work to remove all the obstacles in their child's way, so that the path is smooth and easy. This seems like a lot of extra parenting work, and also a bad idea- at some point obstacles will be encountered no matter how much snowplowing happens, so it's probably better to learn how to overcome when you're young and the stakes are lower than when you're all grown up. One of the examples I read was about a kid who hated sauce, so the parents actively worked to make sure that the kid never encountered any- not at home, not at school, not at friends' homes. Then lo and behold, she goes off to college and encounters sauce in the dining hall. Apparently things did not go well. Obviously no one told her that sometimes the sauce is the only thing appealing about dining hall food.
When I was a kid and I said I didn't like the sauce, the Grandma or Grandpa of No would glare at me and then say "Well, then, just scrape it off, but that is what there is". Sometimes there might be a little extra spice tossed in, in the form of "There are hungry kids who would be happy to have that sauce", or "If you don't like it, then you can start doing the cooking".
Oh, thank God, I told myself, when I heard about this. My kids are too old for this latest parenting trend, and I'm too old to be doing all that work when I could be taking a nap or looking for my reading glasses.
Then Spring Break happened.
So earlier this spring, I needed to get the College Student home for Spring Break. I went to the trusty ol' American Airlines website only to find out that apparently EVERYONE wants to fly over Spring Break; tickets were well over the Mom of No's budget. I went to the trusty ol' Southwest Airlines website and discovered that I could get the College Student home somewhat within budget but she'd have to go to Las Vegas, Phoenix, St Louis, and Denver first. Remember this, children: you can have it under budget, on time, or within specifications, but you can't have all three.
"How about the bus?" I texted the College Student. "Road trip!" she replied.
Despite the horror stories people insisted on telling me about the bus, her ride home was fine. She even got dropped off at a gas station close to our house. This was better than flying! No check bags fee, no drive to the airport! When her visit came to a close, the Dad of No took her to the bus station and dropped her off. All was apparently well until about 7:30 AM the next morning, when she texted me that she was stranded in Wichita.
"Wichita Falls, Texas?" I said. I wasn't yet caffeinated and therefore not fully competent to confront any obstacles the day would present.
"No, Mom! Wichita, Kansas!" Apparently the bus driver had stopped at the bus station at some ungodly hour of the morning, told everyone to get off the bus, unloaded their luggage and drove off. No one knew where the bus had gone, or when a new bus would arrive to take everyone to their final destination.
This is where the parental urge to snowplow started kicking in, and I had to work hard to resist it. My brain was presenting two possible reactions to this issue:
1. Your young adult child is delayed at the Wichita bus depot. She says that she is safe but somewhat hungry and a little worried about missing calculus class on Monday morning. You need to back off and let her do the adulting thing.
2. PARENTAL EMERGENCY! ALL HANDS ON DECK! THE BUS STATION IS HOLDING MY BABY GIRL HOSTAGE AND I NEED TO GO RESCUE HER! RED ALERT! RED ALERT!
Many conversations ensued. The Grandpa of No called (Hey, I heard the College Student is stuck in Kansas!). The Dad of No and I had discussions about would it be better to drive to Wichita and then take her back to school, or bring her back home and put her on a plane. At no time did the College Student ask us to come get her; she seemed to be bonding with her fellow stranded passengers while looking for places to charge her devices and consuming the snacks she'd brought from home. We were the ones feeling the desperate need to snowplow.
Fortunately, by early afternoon, a bus representative had appeared and was rescheduling all the passengers. The situation was under control without any real intervention on our part (well, OK, maybe a phone call to the bus customer service number to find out what was going on). She arrived back on her campus around midnight and went to eat with a friend. She now has a bus story to tell, which seems to be an American rite of passage.
Meanwhile, at home, by Monday morning my adrenaline levels had returned to normal, and my urge to snowplow parent the College Student had receded into the background, where it probably needs to stay.
Sunday, April 14, 2019
Sunday, March 31, 2019
Annual Autism Awareness Month Post
I'm sitting in the car with the Son of Never Stops Eating after church and before the weekly post-church grocery store run, trying to explain FICA and federal income tax paycheck deductions. He just got his first teenager job, and he's trying to figure out how much he needs to make in order to buy his latest Heart's Desire, which is something called an AT-AP Walker. He's also going through a little pre-employment angst; he's worried that he will make a mistake his first day of work, or that he won't get along with his co-workers.
When The College Student got her first job, she did everything on her own. I think I might have told her to take zero deductions on the W-2 form. For the Son of Never Stops Eating, a little more assistance was required; for example, I had to explain the question "Are you legal to work in the United States?" and I also had to call his life planner, because planning for special needs issues is beyond complicated and I'd rather get bitten by a venomous snake than do my son's special needs life planning without professional guidance. I had to make sure that (1) it was OK for him to work over the summer, and (2) find out how much I could allow him to make and not risk losing eligibility for SSI/SSDI at 18, because I need him to eventually be on Medicare so that I know he will have health insurance. Then I had to explain all the answers to his prospective boss.
That is the thing about parenting a special needs about to be young adult- my mind is constantly working through scenarios: What will he do after high school? Where will he eventually live? How will he get around? What kind of work will he do? How will we keep track of his earnings so we don't cross the line and get kicked off all the programs he's going to need? Should we obtain guardianship? I explain all this to people who don't have special needs kids and sometimes I can tell, while they're nodding sympathetically, what they're really thinking is "I'm so glad that's you and not me".
Here is what I have come to realize, after years of following special needs and autism issues: People care about people with autism and intellectual disability, especially little kids. Who doesn't love little kids? Teenagers and adults, maybe not so much- they're big, and sometimes they don't really act like adults, and they do and say strange or even socially inappropriate things and people aren't usually sure how to respond to all that. Actually, I should say this: people care, until they realize that really caring involves more than just platitudes- it involves resources. Like, you know, money. Then it's time for "Well, you're such a great mom; that's why God gave you such a special son".
The Son of Never Stops Eating is a great kid. He filled out (with spelling help) his own job application and aced an interview after practicing with his life skills teacher at school. He is a great artist. He loves hamsters and going to church and talking about his Legos to anyone who shows interest. He can identify more birds than most Americans. He loves chocolate chip pancakes on Saturday mornings with the local Breakfast Club, which has become his second family. However, some things throw him for a loop: FICA taxes, spam phone calls and texts on his cell phone, questions from cashiers about whether or not he wants to donate to a charity, whether or not he's legal to work, what his disability really means for him. I want him to be as independent as he possibly can, and our family has worked tirelessly towards that goal. I also know that he will need help making independence happen.
What our society seems to not quite get yet, or gets but doesn't want to follow through on, is that real help requires actual funding and work. Schools need more funding to provide more educators, like the teachers and classroom aides that the Son of Never Stops Eating has been fortunate to have, and resources for those teachers to do their jobs. Families need help with respite care, with paying for therapy, with planning for their child's future. Adults need help with job training and coaching, finding a safe and affordable place to live with the limited resources many have, with transportation, with making social connections, with navigating the complicated work of being an adult in 21st century America. It is an absolute shame that in a state that claims to place a high priority on "family values", the Son of Never Stops Eating has been on waiting lists to be evaluated for services since 2009.
Early on in my own autism mom journey, I thought that making people aware would be enough, that people not directly affected by autism or intellectual disability would bring that awareness into their worldview and act accordingly. I no longer think this. Now I realize that until our society accepts, embraces, and acts on the idea that all people deserve to live a life with dignity, with access to human needs like meaningful work and a clean, safe place to live and access to medical care, nothing much will change, and while I'd like to say I see that change happening, I can't. Until it does, I will keep doing what I do, just like so many other parents in my situation- working through a system that is seemingly purposefully designed to keep people from getting what they need to accomplish what every parent wants for a child- a good life.
When The College Student got her first job, she did everything on her own. I think I might have told her to take zero deductions on the W-2 form. For the Son of Never Stops Eating, a little more assistance was required; for example, I had to explain the question "Are you legal to work in the United States?" and I also had to call his life planner, because planning for special needs issues is beyond complicated and I'd rather get bitten by a venomous snake than do my son's special needs life planning without professional guidance. I had to make sure that (1) it was OK for him to work over the summer, and (2) find out how much I could allow him to make and not risk losing eligibility for SSI/SSDI at 18, because I need him to eventually be on Medicare so that I know he will have health insurance. Then I had to explain all the answers to his prospective boss.
That is the thing about parenting a special needs about to be young adult- my mind is constantly working through scenarios: What will he do after high school? Where will he eventually live? How will he get around? What kind of work will he do? How will we keep track of his earnings so we don't cross the line and get kicked off all the programs he's going to need? Should we obtain guardianship? I explain all this to people who don't have special needs kids and sometimes I can tell, while they're nodding sympathetically, what they're really thinking is "I'm so glad that's you and not me".
Here is what I have come to realize, after years of following special needs and autism issues: People care about people with autism and intellectual disability, especially little kids. Who doesn't love little kids? Teenagers and adults, maybe not so much- they're big, and sometimes they don't really act like adults, and they do and say strange or even socially inappropriate things and people aren't usually sure how to respond to all that. Actually, I should say this: people care, until they realize that really caring involves more than just platitudes- it involves resources. Like, you know, money. Then it's time for "Well, you're such a great mom; that's why God gave you such a special son".
The Son of Never Stops Eating is a great kid. He filled out (with spelling help) his own job application and aced an interview after practicing with his life skills teacher at school. He is a great artist. He loves hamsters and going to church and talking about his Legos to anyone who shows interest. He can identify more birds than most Americans. He loves chocolate chip pancakes on Saturday mornings with the local Breakfast Club, which has become his second family. However, some things throw him for a loop: FICA taxes, spam phone calls and texts on his cell phone, questions from cashiers about whether or not he wants to donate to a charity, whether or not he's legal to work, what his disability really means for him. I want him to be as independent as he possibly can, and our family has worked tirelessly towards that goal. I also know that he will need help making independence happen.
What our society seems to not quite get yet, or gets but doesn't want to follow through on, is that real help requires actual funding and work. Schools need more funding to provide more educators, like the teachers and classroom aides that the Son of Never Stops Eating has been fortunate to have, and resources for those teachers to do their jobs. Families need help with respite care, with paying for therapy, with planning for their child's future. Adults need help with job training and coaching, finding a safe and affordable place to live with the limited resources many have, with transportation, with making social connections, with navigating the complicated work of being an adult in 21st century America. It is an absolute shame that in a state that claims to place a high priority on "family values", the Son of Never Stops Eating has been on waiting lists to be evaluated for services since 2009.
Early on in my own autism mom journey, I thought that making people aware would be enough, that people not directly affected by autism or intellectual disability would bring that awareness into their worldview and act accordingly. I no longer think this. Now I realize that until our society accepts, embraces, and acts on the idea that all people deserve to live a life with dignity, with access to human needs like meaningful work and a clean, safe place to live and access to medical care, nothing much will change, and while I'd like to say I see that change happening, I can't. Until it does, I will keep doing what I do, just like so many other parents in my situation- working through a system that is seemingly purposefully designed to keep people from getting what they need to accomplish what every parent wants for a child- a good life.
Saturday, March 23, 2019
Decluttering with the Mom of No
Spring is the season of many things - Spring Break, Easter candy (Marshmallow peeps, yum!), March Madness, migratory birds, butterflies, snakes emerging from their hideouts, the countdown to summer vacay (if you're a kid), dandelions, and spring cleaning. The way that the Mom of No usually approaches spring cleaning is to talk about doing it but to not ever really get around to doing it- the idea of a sparkling clean and organized house sounds good in theory but in practice, when it comes down to a choice between cleaning out closets and hitting the trails, well- I have my priorities.
This year, however, I have become fascinated with Tidying Up with Marie Kondo. I haven't read the book or watched the TV show but I've seen some You Tube videos and I feel like I have a grasp on the general idea, which is to get rid of things that don't bring you joy- and to fold your shirts and undergarments in a way that looks neat and makes it easier to find things in your dresser. Since I get up for work at 4:45 AM and am usually fumbling around in the dark looking for my shoes, I can appreciate the idea of making your life less cluttered and easier to navigate in the dark.
My first attempt at tidying up was not at home, however; it was at work. The idea of getting rid of the items that don't bring you joy does not translate well to the cubicle farm; I quickly found out that the things that bring me joy (my snow globe collection and my coffee cup) are not the things that I need to meet the metrics of acceptable performance on my annual performance evaluation. I did, however, toss out a bunch of outdated manuals from 2009 and some floppy disks that were the height of technology back in 1991. I'm not sure what is going on with those; I thought I had gotten rid of all the floppy disks back in 2011 during a cubicle move, but maybe someone else decided to declutter his or her cubicle by leaving them in my cubicle in a late night sneaky ninja operation.
I then decided to give tidying up a whirl at home. The older I get, the more I like the idea of living an uncluttered and simple life. Sometimes I have daydreams in which I reduce my possessions down to what will fit in a Casita camper and I spend my remaining years on the planet driving from national park to national park, sitting by a campfire at night sipping hot cocoa out of my only mug while listening to barred owls asking who cooks for you, who cooks for you all.
The problem with this is that I start wondering, well, what do I do with all the other mugs that I have? Because I have a lot of mugs, and some of them (ok, most of them) have some kind of sentimental value attached to them, and they're really cute and funny, and I don't want to throw them away because that would be wasteful, but based on trips to charity thrift stores, I'm guessing that they probably don't want my mugs either because they already have quite a few, and I could try selling them at a garage sale but I'm not sure anyone would buy them because everyone else is also looking in their kitchen cabinets thinking, wow, where did I get all these mugs?
I have this same problem with almost every other object that I think about removing from my house. I decided to start with the low hanging fruit, which would be my closet, and immediately started with the "Well, this doesn't bring me joy NOW but if I LOST TEN POUNDS it would bring me joy then!" This is when the Dad of No interjected with "Yeah, but you bought that ten years ago and even if it did fit, would it be in style?". Honestly, it probably wasn't in style when I bought it. I'm not really a stylish fashion maven even on my best days.
I feel badly when I get rid of things, especially when I throw things out, because I feel like I'm being wasteful (use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without). I have no problem throwing away socks with holes in them. But Christmas-themed socks that the Grandmother of No gave me fifteen years ago? I have worn them once, and have no plans to do so again, but there is still plenty of wear in them, and who wants used socks? I have a whole list of things that I've found that I don't really need but I don't know what to do with either- old scrapbooking paper, a Sew Cute tiny sewing machine that the Grandma of No gave the College Student years ago (I think it got used once or twice), those reusable bags with drawstrings that you use like a backpack, those free little bags I used to get with cosmetics back when I wore makeup, and more. I don't need any of this stuff, but I'm not sure how to remove it from my life without feeling like I'm being wasteful, either.
If anything has come out of this faltering attempt to declutter the house, it's a renewed resolution to just not buy anything else*. If I don't buy it now, then I won't be asking myself if this object brings me joy in fifteen years because I won't own it in the first place. Maybe I can declutter my house by attrition, which seems to be a much painless way to go about it. I'll let you know how it works out and where you can watch my new You Tube videos when I master this method.
*This doesn't apply to cameras, hiking boots, outdoor equipment, consumables (bring on the Marshmallow peeps), books and field guides, replacing things that have broken, T-shirts from cool places, local bands, or with funny sayings on them, and snow globes. Now that I cleared out those old manuals, I have room for more snow globes.
This year, however, I have become fascinated with Tidying Up with Marie Kondo. I haven't read the book or watched the TV show but I've seen some You Tube videos and I feel like I have a grasp on the general idea, which is to get rid of things that don't bring you joy- and to fold your shirts and undergarments in a way that looks neat and makes it easier to find things in your dresser. Since I get up for work at 4:45 AM and am usually fumbling around in the dark looking for my shoes, I can appreciate the idea of making your life less cluttered and easier to navigate in the dark.
My first attempt at tidying up was not at home, however; it was at work. The idea of getting rid of the items that don't bring you joy does not translate well to the cubicle farm; I quickly found out that the things that bring me joy (my snow globe collection and my coffee cup) are not the things that I need to meet the metrics of acceptable performance on my annual performance evaluation. I did, however, toss out a bunch of outdated manuals from 2009 and some floppy disks that were the height of technology back in 1991. I'm not sure what is going on with those; I thought I had gotten rid of all the floppy disks back in 2011 during a cubicle move, but maybe someone else decided to declutter his or her cubicle by leaving them in my cubicle in a late night sneaky ninja operation.
I then decided to give tidying up a whirl at home. The older I get, the more I like the idea of living an uncluttered and simple life. Sometimes I have daydreams in which I reduce my possessions down to what will fit in a Casita camper and I spend my remaining years on the planet driving from national park to national park, sitting by a campfire at night sipping hot cocoa out of my only mug while listening to barred owls asking who cooks for you, who cooks for you all.
The problem with this is that I start wondering, well, what do I do with all the other mugs that I have? Because I have a lot of mugs, and some of them (ok, most of them) have some kind of sentimental value attached to them, and they're really cute and funny, and I don't want to throw them away because that would be wasteful, but based on trips to charity thrift stores, I'm guessing that they probably don't want my mugs either because they already have quite a few, and I could try selling them at a garage sale but I'm not sure anyone would buy them because everyone else is also looking in their kitchen cabinets thinking, wow, where did I get all these mugs?
I have this same problem with almost every other object that I think about removing from my house. I decided to start with the low hanging fruit, which would be my closet, and immediately started with the "Well, this doesn't bring me joy NOW but if I LOST TEN POUNDS it would bring me joy then!" This is when the Dad of No interjected with "Yeah, but you bought that ten years ago and even if it did fit, would it be in style?". Honestly, it probably wasn't in style when I bought it. I'm not really a stylish fashion maven even on my best days.
I feel badly when I get rid of things, especially when I throw things out, because I feel like I'm being wasteful (use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without). I have no problem throwing away socks with holes in them. But Christmas-themed socks that the Grandmother of No gave me fifteen years ago? I have worn them once, and have no plans to do so again, but there is still plenty of wear in them, and who wants used socks? I have a whole list of things that I've found that I don't really need but I don't know what to do with either- old scrapbooking paper, a Sew Cute tiny sewing machine that the Grandma of No gave the College Student years ago (I think it got used once or twice), those reusable bags with drawstrings that you use like a backpack, those free little bags I used to get with cosmetics back when I wore makeup, and more. I don't need any of this stuff, but I'm not sure how to remove it from my life without feeling like I'm being wasteful, either.
If anything has come out of this faltering attempt to declutter the house, it's a renewed resolution to just not buy anything else*. If I don't buy it now, then I won't be asking myself if this object brings me joy in fifteen years because I won't own it in the first place. Maybe I can declutter my house by attrition, which seems to be a much painless way to go about it. I'll let you know how it works out and where you can watch my new You Tube videos when I master this method.
*This doesn't apply to cameras, hiking boots, outdoor equipment, consumables (bring on the Marshmallow peeps), books and field guides, replacing things that have broken, T-shirts from cool places, local bands, or with funny sayings on them, and snow globes. Now that I cleared out those old manuals, I have room for more snow globes.
Monday, March 18, 2019
The Marsh Project Week #41
I blinked my eyes and spring arrived.
One day the trees were starting to bud out, and the next day- or so it seemed- robins were everywhere amongst the leafing-out trees. The trail is partially flooded again, but most of it is still accessible, at least to the intrepid with mud boots, and I'm taking full advantage of the later hours and the beautiful weather. Even the air smells clean and slightly scented; I want to bottle it and save it for later. As I walk in the early evening, I close my eyes briefly and stand still, hearing the chirps, and the woodpeckers, and the distinctive "whoo cooks for you...who cooks for you all" of the barred owl who has taken up residence in a tree near the trail. I imagine that I can hear the wings of butterflies and the dragonflies- who have not yet arrived but are surely on their way- moving through the air as they approach my neck of the woods.
When I wrote that robins were everywhere, I mean that along some portions of the trail, they are really everywhere. I would be walking down the trail and suddenly a burst of robins would explode from the ground, perching in trees just beyond my eyeball's reach. As I walked down the trail this afternoon, I noticed, amongst the robins, a lone tufted titmouse, hopping along on the ground cover. I made an attempt at a photo, but all the robins and the tufted titmouse thwarted my efforts and flew away. Well, perhaps another day. Nothing wants to stand still!
Besides- the butterflies are coming! Two weeks ago, nary a butterfly except for one or two faded question marks- but starting this past weekend, every day brings something new. Yesterday I got my first photo observation of a butterfly I've been trying to get for at least a year, a Falcate Orangetip. An hour later, I got another observation of a butterfly I have never seen before on the trail, a Henry's Elfin. Two firsts for my iNaturalist project in one day; that's as good as Christmas. On Saturday I think I saw a tattered monarch, but it flew away before I could get a close enough look to be sure. If it was a monarch, there will (hopefully) be more.
Warmer weather also means snakes. When I hike the trail, sometimes I'll have people ask me (I must give off a "I hike here ALL THE TIME" vibe, because I get asked questions a lot) if there are any snakes on the trail. I'm never entirely sure what to tell them because the answer is "yes", but I don't want them running away in terror, either. Unless you're looking really closely you'll probably miss quite a few of them; they're quite good at camouflage. I often wonder just what I'm missing when I hike; for every thing I see, I'm probably missing so much more.
Finally, because of the release from the dam, the pelicans are back. I could spend hours watching them fish and float on the river; I stop and tell myself that I am only going to watch for a few minutes and then before I know it, 30 minutes have gone by and it is almost time to leave. Even the pelicans seems brighter; I don't know if it is the late afternoon light or the pelicans themselves.
Soon enough it will be hot (dragonflies!), and summer will have arrived, but for now the Earth is waking up, and everything seems fresh and new.
One day the trees were starting to bud out, and the next day- or so it seemed- robins were everywhere amongst the leafing-out trees. The trail is partially flooded again, but most of it is still accessible, at least to the intrepid with mud boots, and I'm taking full advantage of the later hours and the beautiful weather. Even the air smells clean and slightly scented; I want to bottle it and save it for later. As I walk in the early evening, I close my eyes briefly and stand still, hearing the chirps, and the woodpeckers, and the distinctive "whoo cooks for you...who cooks for you all" of the barred owl who has taken up residence in a tree near the trail. I imagine that I can hear the wings of butterflies and the dragonflies- who have not yet arrived but are surely on their way- moving through the air as they approach my neck of the woods.
When I wrote that robins were everywhere, I mean that along some portions of the trail, they are really everywhere. I would be walking down the trail and suddenly a burst of robins would explode from the ground, perching in trees just beyond my eyeball's reach. As I walked down the trail this afternoon, I noticed, amongst the robins, a lone tufted titmouse, hopping along on the ground cover. I made an attempt at a photo, but all the robins and the tufted titmouse thwarted my efforts and flew away. Well, perhaps another day. Nothing wants to stand still!
Besides- the butterflies are coming! Two weeks ago, nary a butterfly except for one or two faded question marks- but starting this past weekend, every day brings something new. Yesterday I got my first photo observation of a butterfly I've been trying to get for at least a year, a Falcate Orangetip. An hour later, I got another observation of a butterfly I have never seen before on the trail, a Henry's Elfin. Two firsts for my iNaturalist project in one day; that's as good as Christmas. On Saturday I think I saw a tattered monarch, but it flew away before I could get a close enough look to be sure. If it was a monarch, there will (hopefully) be more.
Warmer weather also means snakes. When I hike the trail, sometimes I'll have people ask me (I must give off a "I hike here ALL THE TIME" vibe, because I get asked questions a lot) if there are any snakes on the trail. I'm never entirely sure what to tell them because the answer is "yes", but I don't want them running away in terror, either. Unless you're looking really closely you'll probably miss quite a few of them; they're quite good at camouflage. I often wonder just what I'm missing when I hike; for every thing I see, I'm probably missing so much more.
Finally, because of the release from the dam, the pelicans are back. I could spend hours watching them fish and float on the river; I stop and tell myself that I am only going to watch for a few minutes and then before I know it, 30 minutes have gone by and it is almost time to leave. Even the pelicans seems brighter; I don't know if it is the late afternoon light or the pelicans themselves.
Soon enough it will be hot (dragonflies!), and summer will have arrived, but for now the Earth is waking up, and everything seems fresh and new.
Friday, March 15, 2019
Social Media Influencer
The Grandpa of No called me this evening just as I was finishing up my after work/start of the weekend hike. The College Student is currently on a Greyhound bus headed home for Spring Break (Airfare was over $1000 for a round trip ticket, much too rich for the Mom of No, so she's getting a closer look at America from a bus window). He wanted to know if I'd heard from her (no) and then he asked me, jokingly, hey, you didn't bribe her school to admit her, did you?
Like I have any money to bribe anyone for anything. I could offer maybe $50 along with a loaf of homemade banana bread. I don't think that would get me very far, although the banana bread is really good, especially when it's served warm with butter. No, I assured him, no bribes. The College Student managed to obtain admission to her institution of higher education without any financial shenanigans on my part.
What fascinates me about this entire college admissions bribery scandal is that apparently it is possible to find work as a "social media influencer". I've now heard this term twice in the last two weeks and I'm honestly not even sure what that is. How do you become a social media influencer? Who determines what makes a good social media influencer? Is there a job description out there on the Internet somewhere? Are auditions required, or do you just start posting stuff on Facebook and hope that some Social Media Influencer talent scout finds you? How did these people get to be so influential when they don't seem to have actually done anything? (This is where, upon re-reading, I realize that I really am starting to sound like the Grandpa of No).
When I was in high school, I wanted very badly to have the same awkwardly cool flair that Molly Ringwald possessed in Sixteen Candles or The Breakfast Club. I was absolutely convinced that if I had the same magic touch with my appearance that I believed that she did in those movies, I would become popular and confident instead of the nerdy science-fiction reading introvert that I was. That, and thinking that if I could somehow become part of Duran Duran all my problems would go away, is probably the closest I can relate to being influenced by someone famous. I'm now 49 and definitely not a part of the cool crowd, so it's highly possible this social media influencer gig has been a thing for awhile and I'm just now finding out about it, but I'm very baffled by it.
I think, however, that I would be a great social media influencer. Not because I possess any ability whatsoever to convince people to buy more stuff that they really don't need (the Mom of No has been making mostly fruitless and frustrating attempts to Kon-Mari her house, more on that later, it's a sad story, but really- it would be much easier if I had just bought less stuff in the first place, let this be a lesson to you, young whippersnappers- reject the urge to accumulate stuff while you still have a relatively uncluttered life), but because after raising two kids and living almost half a century, I think I have a lot of wisdom to share with others. Maybe not fashion advice, I don't really have any talent there, but I do have other insights I think the world needs.
For example, if I could get a social media influencer job in which I convince millions of Americans to quit throwing their plastic water bottles, foam soft drink cups, cigarette butts, empty plastic shopping bags, fast food wrappers, underwear*, and other detritus out of their cars onto roadway medians, I would absolutely consider that time well spent. If people can be convinced that by buying a certain brand of shoes their dreams will all come true, why can't people be convinced that picking up your trash (or at least not tossing it out the car window) is every American's patriotic duty?
Or, I'd like to convince people to back away from the social media and pick up a book. You can get books free from the local library, so there might not be a lot of money to be made in influencing people to read more. However, our society would benefit if people talked more about great books they'd read and less about what some famous for being famous people posted on social media. A social media influencer trying to convince people not to be on social media might sound like a self-defeating proposal but if I found myself out of a social media influencer job because people were reading more, I'd consider that a winning situation.
If those don't attract the Social Media Influencer deciders, perhaps "Birding is for Everyone" will. Instead of spending hours on social media looking at inaccurate and oversimplified political memes and getting into fights on Facebook groups with strangers, people would start talking about their birding life lists. Going outside with your kids, a pair of binoculars and a good birding field guide would become the new "in" activity. If I were an influencer, I would influence people to go outside and look at nature's beauty.
Maybe what I really want to know is why do so many people care what these people, who seem to be famous for no reason at all other than they take good selfies, think?
Anyway, I won't be quitting my day job anytime soon; I have bills to pay- apparently the mortgage company to be paid with money, not baked goods- and I think I might be waiting awhile for the Social Media Influencer Initiation Committee, to come a-calling. However, if I could influence you to do just one thing- please, don't throw your underwear onto our Adopt-a-Spot.
*The Son of Never Stops Eating and I have, on multiple occasions, picked up underwear from our Adopt-a-Spot. We're both wondering who goes driving down the road at 35 MPH tossing underwear out of their vehicle windows onto the side of the road.
Like I have any money to bribe anyone for anything. I could offer maybe $50 along with a loaf of homemade banana bread. I don't think that would get me very far, although the banana bread is really good, especially when it's served warm with butter. No, I assured him, no bribes. The College Student managed to obtain admission to her institution of higher education without any financial shenanigans on my part.
What fascinates me about this entire college admissions bribery scandal is that apparently it is possible to find work as a "social media influencer". I've now heard this term twice in the last two weeks and I'm honestly not even sure what that is. How do you become a social media influencer? Who determines what makes a good social media influencer? Is there a job description out there on the Internet somewhere? Are auditions required, or do you just start posting stuff on Facebook and hope that some Social Media Influencer talent scout finds you? How did these people get to be so influential when they don't seem to have actually done anything? (This is where, upon re-reading, I realize that I really am starting to sound like the Grandpa of No).
When I was in high school, I wanted very badly to have the same awkwardly cool flair that Molly Ringwald possessed in Sixteen Candles or The Breakfast Club. I was absolutely convinced that if I had the same magic touch with my appearance that I believed that she did in those movies, I would become popular and confident instead of the nerdy science-fiction reading introvert that I was. That, and thinking that if I could somehow become part of Duran Duran all my problems would go away, is probably the closest I can relate to being influenced by someone famous. I'm now 49 and definitely not a part of the cool crowd, so it's highly possible this social media influencer gig has been a thing for awhile and I'm just now finding out about it, but I'm very baffled by it.
I think, however, that I would be a great social media influencer. Not because I possess any ability whatsoever to convince people to buy more stuff that they really don't need (the Mom of No has been making mostly fruitless and frustrating attempts to Kon-Mari her house, more on that later, it's a sad story, but really- it would be much easier if I had just bought less stuff in the first place, let this be a lesson to you, young whippersnappers- reject the urge to accumulate stuff while you still have a relatively uncluttered life), but because after raising two kids and living almost half a century, I think I have a lot of wisdom to share with others. Maybe not fashion advice, I don't really have any talent there, but I do have other insights I think the world needs.
For example, if I could get a social media influencer job in which I convince millions of Americans to quit throwing their plastic water bottles, foam soft drink cups, cigarette butts, empty plastic shopping bags, fast food wrappers, underwear*, and other detritus out of their cars onto roadway medians, I would absolutely consider that time well spent. If people can be convinced that by buying a certain brand of shoes their dreams will all come true, why can't people be convinced that picking up your trash (or at least not tossing it out the car window) is every American's patriotic duty?
Or, I'd like to convince people to back away from the social media and pick up a book. You can get books free from the local library, so there might not be a lot of money to be made in influencing people to read more. However, our society would benefit if people talked more about great books they'd read and less about what some famous for being famous people posted on social media. A social media influencer trying to convince people not to be on social media might sound like a self-defeating proposal but if I found myself out of a social media influencer job because people were reading more, I'd consider that a winning situation.
If those don't attract the Social Media Influencer deciders, perhaps "Birding is for Everyone" will. Instead of spending hours on social media looking at inaccurate and oversimplified political memes and getting into fights on Facebook groups with strangers, people would start talking about their birding life lists. Going outside with your kids, a pair of binoculars and a good birding field guide would become the new "in" activity. If I were an influencer, I would influence people to go outside and look at nature's beauty.
Maybe what I really want to know is why do so many people care what these people, who seem to be famous for no reason at all other than they take good selfies, think?
Anyway, I won't be quitting my day job anytime soon; I have bills to pay- apparently the mortgage company to be paid with money, not baked goods- and I think I might be waiting awhile for the Social Media Influencer Initiation Committee, to come a-calling. However, if I could influence you to do just one thing- please, don't throw your underwear onto our Adopt-a-Spot.
*The Son of Never Stops Eating and I have, on multiple occasions, picked up underwear from our Adopt-a-Spot. We're both wondering who goes driving down the road at 35 MPH tossing underwear out of their vehicle windows onto the side of the road.
Sunday, March 3, 2019
The Marsh Project Week #40
Wildlife Photography Lesson #1: Remember to check your camera before you leave home to make sure that the memory card is still in it.
Last Friday, March 1, was the first day of the year that the nature preserve was open until 7 PM. Spring is supposed to be approaching, although you wouldn't know it from the current cloudy, windy, misty weather. The weather conditions, however, were not as important as being able to stay out until dusk in one of my favorite places on the planet. As soon as I got home from work and got a quick snack, I grabbed the camera and my backpack and rushed out to the trail.
As I passed the gatehouse and drove down the road, I saw a bobcat cross the pavement. As I got closer, I could see that he was still standing close to the road on the trail. This was a great start to the hike! I hadn't even gotten out of the car and the wildlife was already finding me! I stopped, rolled down the window, turned on the camera, and got the message "No Memory Disk". I'd probably left it at home in the computer. Not to worry, I thought. I had another one in my backpack. I grabbed it, put it in the camera, and looked up to see that the bobcat had decided to go on its way.
Lesson learned: Check camera before leaving house. Otherwise, this might be all you get.
I mentally beat myself up for the next hour. I know better than this. Grandpa of No's favorite advice was to never forget the 6P's- Proper Prior Planning Prevents Poor Performance. (When I got older, he stuck a 7th P in there, so it became Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance"). Chances were good that no matter what else I saw, I'd missed my chance to get at least a decent photo of a bobcat. It didn't help that not much else was stirring, and what was stirring was hiding- I settled for taking a photo of a well-gnawed tree at the blind. I was hoping that the gnawer of the tree would make an appearance, but that didn't happen.
I also found a neotropic cormorant standing on a tree. Secondary lesson learned here: Check the bird guides before entering this bird into iNaturalist, because I get neotropic and double crested cormorants confused, and I picked the wrong one. Last Friday was a day of reinforcing lessons I should already know; the Nature Gods must think I'm slacking off or something.
Even though I still had time, the light (or what light I had on a cloudy, cold day) was withdrawing. I headed back to the trailhead, still mentally giving myself a tongue-lashing for forgetting the 7P's. I get a lot of great observations, but I don't see a lot of bobcats. As I turned to go back to the parking lot, I thought to myself that I still had a few minutes before the light got unworkable, so I wandered over to the riprap by the outlet works of the dam, and:
I stood and watched the bobcat as it walked on the riprap. At one point it glanced up in my direction and turned to go back into the vegetation on the left side of the trail. I stood still for a few seconds and it then turned back again and headed towards the river, where about ten great blue herons were standing in the water. The bobcat sat at the river's edge, looking towards the water and the herons. What its plans were I did not know, but I did know that it was time for me to head to the house. The Nature Photography Gods had given me a second chance.
Last Friday, March 1, was the first day of the year that the nature preserve was open until 7 PM. Spring is supposed to be approaching, although you wouldn't know it from the current cloudy, windy, misty weather. The weather conditions, however, were not as important as being able to stay out until dusk in one of my favorite places on the planet. As soon as I got home from work and got a quick snack, I grabbed the camera and my backpack and rushed out to the trail.
As I passed the gatehouse and drove down the road, I saw a bobcat cross the pavement. As I got closer, I could see that he was still standing close to the road on the trail. This was a great start to the hike! I hadn't even gotten out of the car and the wildlife was already finding me! I stopped, rolled down the window, turned on the camera, and got the message "No Memory Disk". I'd probably left it at home in the computer. Not to worry, I thought. I had another one in my backpack. I grabbed it, put it in the camera, and looked up to see that the bobcat had decided to go on its way.
Lesson learned: Check camera before leaving house. Otherwise, this might be all you get.
I mentally beat myself up for the next hour. I know better than this. Grandpa of No's favorite advice was to never forget the 6P's- Proper Prior Planning Prevents Poor Performance. (When I got older, he stuck a 7th P in there, so it became Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance"). Chances were good that no matter what else I saw, I'd missed my chance to get at least a decent photo of a bobcat. It didn't help that not much else was stirring, and what was stirring was hiding- I settled for taking a photo of a well-gnawed tree at the blind. I was hoping that the gnawer of the tree would make an appearance, but that didn't happen.
I also found a neotropic cormorant standing on a tree. Secondary lesson learned here: Check the bird guides before entering this bird into iNaturalist, because I get neotropic and double crested cormorants confused, and I picked the wrong one. Last Friday was a day of reinforcing lessons I should already know; the Nature Gods must think I'm slacking off or something.
Even though I still had time, the light (or what light I had on a cloudy, cold day) was withdrawing. I headed back to the trailhead, still mentally giving myself a tongue-lashing for forgetting the 7P's. I get a lot of great observations, but I don't see a lot of bobcats. As I turned to go back to the parking lot, I thought to myself that I still had a few minutes before the light got unworkable, so I wandered over to the riprap by the outlet works of the dam, and:
I stood and watched the bobcat as it walked on the riprap. At one point it glanced up in my direction and turned to go back into the vegetation on the left side of the trail. I stood still for a few seconds and it then turned back again and headed towards the river, where about ten great blue herons were standing in the water. The bobcat sat at the river's edge, looking towards the water and the herons. What its plans were I did not know, but I did know that it was time for me to head to the house. The Nature Photography Gods had given me a second chance.
Tuesday, February 19, 2019
Nothing is Ever Easy
Warning: This is a whiny post. I'll toss in a photo of a cute bird or something so you don't feel entirely brought down low, but I'm blogging while cranky so just know, you were warned.
I think it must be late-stage perimenopause, or plots by The Man to make life miserable, or just general frustration at modern life, but really, why does everything have to be so complicated? Well, one thing in the last 2 weeks has been easy; I went to the dermatologist and got a clean bill of skin health, and I didn't even have to get weighed or lectured on eating too much salt or not getting enough exercise or that dental hygienist look that says "I know you're not flossing". So I'm grateful for that.
In my e-mail today I received notice that two of the hotel rewards programs I got talked into joining are combining into one, so I needed to login to one account and press a button, and lo and behold, my points would transfer over and then I would be even closer to a free room or free magazines or whatever the rewards were. I'm honestly terrible at keeping up with all these rewards programs, but I didn't want to lose my points, because they were free and I don't want to give up so easily on something that was free, so I logged in and then was asked for the membership number for the other rewards program, which I didn't have, so I had to go find that and then it still didn't work, and after about six minutes of trying to figure out what the hell was going on now, I realized that I was leaving off one digit of the membership number, which was about twenty digits long. Then the website crashed and I was instructed to try again later.
Medical insurance claims are another thing that always seems to get complicated. A few months ago I had a thankfully brief emergency room visit after I woke up one morning and it felt like I was about to give birth to a full-grown T-Rex with giant claws and a really bad attitude. Since there are all kinds of moving parts in the abdomen, who knew what was going on in there? Appendicitis? Really bad stomach virus? Food poisoning? About the only thing that could be reliably ruled out was a gallbladder attack, since I no longer have a gallbladder. So off to the ER we go, and at some point the ER staff put some anti-nausea meds in the IV or maybe they injected it, I couldn't tell you, but about four months later I have now learned that apparently -at least in this specific instance- I could have all the Zofran my doctor wanted to prescribe in pill form, but when it's injected, it's considered experimental unless you're undergoing chemotherapy and if it's considered experimental then the insurance company balks at paying for it and it takes forever to get the claim processed and meanwhile the hospital is nagging you about paying a bill for a two hour ER visit that about equals a year's tuition, room and board at an in-state university.
Kids, there is a lesson here, and that lesson is this: Much of adult life makes absolutely no logical sense whatsoever. Also, you should be aware that when seeking health care while in serious pain, you're evidently expected to ask questions like, "Is this substance that you are injecting into my IV covered by my health insurance policy?".
The tire pressure gauge in my car is another source of low-key frustration. My old car didn't have a tire pressure gauge so you had no idea if there were problems with the tires until one actually went flat. I rarely thought about the tires unless I started feeling that thunkety-thunkety, then I knew, hey, I have a problem! Then I bought a new car that came with the tire pressure warning light, and it goes off seemingly whenever it wants to- usually when it's pouring rain and I'm stuck in traffic. Then I have to decide, is it just the car being cranky? Because sometimes that light goes off and then it turns out that one tire just had slightly lower air pressure than the other three tires. However, sometimes that light goes off because there's a nail in the tire and a flat is getting ready to happen. Unfortunately, there's no way to know because the gauge doesn't give you that level of information. Also, driving with the orange tire pressure light on drives me nuts, because I'm the kind of person who needs all those lights to be off otherwise I'm driving down the freeway envisioning imminent disaster.
I also have life-planning for The Son of Never Stops Eating frustration. He wants to get a part-time job, which I think is great. But since we will probably be applying for him to receive disability benefits when he reaches 18, he can't make too much money. So the question is, how much is too much? When the College Student got her first job, I didn't think about that at all other than "Just make sure to keep the grades up". The stakes are higher here. If he makes too much money then he can be disqualified, apparently forever, from certain benefits. So he can make so much per month, but I have to keep track of his pay periods, because if he gets paid every other week then there are two months of the year that are three paycheck months, and one of those paychecks could drive him over that threshold, and then well, we're pretty much doomed because I messed up and he made $5 more than he's allowed. So when he does get a job, I'll have to have a conversation with his boss, who will probably be thinking I'm some helicopter mother with all these rules about how much the kid can make and how many hours he can work. It's not me making this complicated, honestly. It's The Man. If it were up to me, it would not be this complicated. A lot of these rules seem to derive from the idea that we don't want people working the system to get more than they should get, but now there are so many rules it's nearly impossible not to screw something up even if your intentions are completely benign and honest.
I bet now you're thinking, hey, enough of these sad stories. If you were the Grandma of No, you'd point out that at least I'm lucky enough to have a car and health insurance, which is definitely true, and now that I've thought that I feel like a completely ungrateful person and I just need to suck it up, buttercup. Which I will, until the next time I do something that gets complicated when it doesn't need to be, like buying a pair of jeans or figuring out the best way to get TV at the house. So here's the cute bird I promised.
I think it must be late-stage perimenopause, or plots by The Man to make life miserable, or just general frustration at modern life, but really, why does everything have to be so complicated? Well, one thing in the last 2 weeks has been easy; I went to the dermatologist and got a clean bill of skin health, and I didn't even have to get weighed or lectured on eating too much salt or not getting enough exercise or that dental hygienist look that says "I know you're not flossing". So I'm grateful for that.
In my e-mail today I received notice that two of the hotel rewards programs I got talked into joining are combining into one, so I needed to login to one account and press a button, and lo and behold, my points would transfer over and then I would be even closer to a free room or free magazines or whatever the rewards were. I'm honestly terrible at keeping up with all these rewards programs, but I didn't want to lose my points, because they were free and I don't want to give up so easily on something that was free, so I logged in and then was asked for the membership number for the other rewards program, which I didn't have, so I had to go find that and then it still didn't work, and after about six minutes of trying to figure out what the hell was going on now, I realized that I was leaving off one digit of the membership number, which was about twenty digits long. Then the website crashed and I was instructed to try again later.
Medical insurance claims are another thing that always seems to get complicated. A few months ago I had a thankfully brief emergency room visit after I woke up one morning and it felt like I was about to give birth to a full-grown T-Rex with giant claws and a really bad attitude. Since there are all kinds of moving parts in the abdomen, who knew what was going on in there? Appendicitis? Really bad stomach virus? Food poisoning? About the only thing that could be reliably ruled out was a gallbladder attack, since I no longer have a gallbladder. So off to the ER we go, and at some point the ER staff put some anti-nausea meds in the IV or maybe they injected it, I couldn't tell you, but about four months later I have now learned that apparently -at least in this specific instance- I could have all the Zofran my doctor wanted to prescribe in pill form, but when it's injected, it's considered experimental unless you're undergoing chemotherapy and if it's considered experimental then the insurance company balks at paying for it and it takes forever to get the claim processed and meanwhile the hospital is nagging you about paying a bill for a two hour ER visit that about equals a year's tuition, room and board at an in-state university.
Kids, there is a lesson here, and that lesson is this: Much of adult life makes absolutely no logical sense whatsoever. Also, you should be aware that when seeking health care while in serious pain, you're evidently expected to ask questions like, "Is this substance that you are injecting into my IV covered by my health insurance policy?".
The tire pressure gauge in my car is another source of low-key frustration. My old car didn't have a tire pressure gauge so you had no idea if there were problems with the tires until one actually went flat. I rarely thought about the tires unless I started feeling that thunkety-thunkety, then I knew, hey, I have a problem! Then I bought a new car that came with the tire pressure warning light, and it goes off seemingly whenever it wants to- usually when it's pouring rain and I'm stuck in traffic. Then I have to decide, is it just the car being cranky? Because sometimes that light goes off and then it turns out that one tire just had slightly lower air pressure than the other three tires. However, sometimes that light goes off because there's a nail in the tire and a flat is getting ready to happen. Unfortunately, there's no way to know because the gauge doesn't give you that level of information. Also, driving with the orange tire pressure light on drives me nuts, because I'm the kind of person who needs all those lights to be off otherwise I'm driving down the freeway envisioning imminent disaster.
I also have life-planning for The Son of Never Stops Eating frustration. He wants to get a part-time job, which I think is great. But since we will probably be applying for him to receive disability benefits when he reaches 18, he can't make too much money. So the question is, how much is too much? When the College Student got her first job, I didn't think about that at all other than "Just make sure to keep the grades up". The stakes are higher here. If he makes too much money then he can be disqualified, apparently forever, from certain benefits. So he can make so much per month, but I have to keep track of his pay periods, because if he gets paid every other week then there are two months of the year that are three paycheck months, and one of those paychecks could drive him over that threshold, and then well, we're pretty much doomed because I messed up and he made $5 more than he's allowed. So when he does get a job, I'll have to have a conversation with his boss, who will probably be thinking I'm some helicopter mother with all these rules about how much the kid can make and how many hours he can work. It's not me making this complicated, honestly. It's The Man. If it were up to me, it would not be this complicated. A lot of these rules seem to derive from the idea that we don't want people working the system to get more than they should get, but now there are so many rules it's nearly impossible not to screw something up even if your intentions are completely benign and honest.
I bet now you're thinking, hey, enough of these sad stories. If you were the Grandma of No, you'd point out that at least I'm lucky enough to have a car and health insurance, which is definitely true, and now that I've thought that I feel like a completely ungrateful person and I just need to suck it up, buttercup. Which I will, until the next time I do something that gets complicated when it doesn't need to be, like buying a pair of jeans or figuring out the best way to get TV at the house. So here's the cute bird I promised.
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Hermit Thrush
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