MIT will wait for you.

"I cant' find the buckle".



My sister A and I said, simultaneously "Andrew. Quit screwing around buckle up".



At this point, I look at Z (my oldest), and see that he is blanching. "Z, What!"



"Mom," Z says, "I think that the buckle might be gone".



"Might be gone? How could a buckle be gone?"



"Well," Z goes on, "I might have played with it".



"Playing with it doesn't make it go away. Andrew - look more carefully... did Z push the buckle in between the seats?"



I look at Z again, "What?"



"I mean, I think that I might have kind of taken it off".



"You did what? So, where is it? ... Everyone, let's look on the floor of the car, they can't have gone far".



Z blanches. Sheepish, he says, "Um, I think we'll have to drive separately".



Driving our combined five children in two separate cars for an additional eight hours in each direction is not really the solution we were looking for at five pm on a Friday.



"What do you mean?"



"Well, mom, I kind of think I took it off, then... it was really long ago, things have gotten really jumbled around in here. I am pretty sure that some of the pieces are gone."



"When did you do this? And, um, what do you mean pieces? Where would they go?"



"Well, mom, I took it apart a long time ago. There were three pieces. And, we've cleaned out the car a few times since then... I'm sure that all of the pieces aren't still here."



So, there my sister and I are... at 5:15 on a Friday evening, trying to find a Honda dealer that has this part. Each one I call says they don't stock that part... because it isn't removable. I direct them to my eight-year-old for instructions. We finally find one that is (sort of) on the way to our destination - so, we all pile in (sister in unbuckled seat, eleven year old nephew illegally in front seat) to get the part.

After an hour of driving - they have the wrong part set aside. The parts department is closed, my sister loses her temper, and we are told, there is nothing they can do. As I plead our case, my sister goes in search of a salesmen. She convinces them to remove the piece from a vehicle on the lot and charge us to replace it.

It takes a mechanic twenty minutes and three tools to remove the piece from the existing car, and my son has to show him how to install it (using the tools) to our car. It took him over twenty minutes to install, because he refused to listen to my son that insisted a piece was missing... until a woman from the dealership ran out with the errant piece of hardware.

Are you as smart as an eight year old?

Of course, on reflection, I realize where his idea for removal came from. Three or four months ago I yelled at the kids about the danger of fighting over the strap with the metal buckle on the end. Somewhere in Z's unusual brain, this triggered the idea that the safest thing (actual car safety aside) would be to remove the offending piece (so they couldn't fight over it anymore). I am sure this is what happened... I only wish he would take more seriously the dangers of having pee on the bathroom floor or the dreaded unflushed toilet.

Don't you hate it...

when you have a kid over for a sleepover, then find out from the mom when you return them home that they've been sick?

Guess what? My kid is getting sick now... no, really, he is. How surprising.

My Name Is Michael

Shocking news... MJ is dead. This, coming on the heels of lots of other "celebrity" news, should remind people of the price of fame.

I don't miss the Thriller era, and I wasn't especially a fan of Beat It, or Billie Jean. I couldn't even tell you much about these songs, except that I remember the Thriller video and that MJ couldn't really pull off the gangsta look in the Beat It video. But, I have fond memories of hearing the Jackson Five. I know, I know... I'm dating myself... in my defense I have much older siblings, so I skipped a lot of the teenybopper stuff I was supposed to like (e.g. Shaun Cassidy).

In homage to MJ, I listened to My Name is Michael, by the Jackson Five. His sweet innocent voice, that he tried so hard to hang onto is so bittersweet now. The young man lost all semblance of a normal life when the Jackson Five made it big. His self-image problems, fueled by an unusual family, his earning power, and the public scrutiny of his career, insured that he would never have a normal moment or a sincere trusted friend - someone that wasn't influenced by his money or power.

Why is it that we seem pathologically unable to either leave people alone (even if we like their music)? Even more frightening, why are we pathologically unable to avoid fame, even after watching hundreds of celebrities self-ignite in the glow of it?

Why, oh why, didn't John and Kate (plus eight) see it coming? I'm not really a fan or a detractor (I may have seen part of two episodes), not really my cup of tea... but even back to the first reality television (a PBS series in the 70's), no marriages have survived the scrutiny.* Maybe the sanctity of marriage and family life aren't intended for public scrutiny. Maybe all of us, if shown in tv soundbites, would seem so atrocious and unmatched that we wouldn't be able to bear staying with our partners?

Let's have a momnt of silence.. but not just for poor disfunctional, unhappy Michael, but also for the lives of so many that our constant intrusion has ruined.

And, let's hope that that the next family that is approached with a television deal has the good sense to avoid fame and fortune and be working stiffs like the rest of us - it isn't glamorous, but it has more potential for happiness.

*With the possible exception of the Duggar family with 19 children and counting... but, I am not completely convinced that they are actually human.

speaking of throwing the kids outside

It is the umpteenth day of rain. I am trying to pull off a birthday party tomorrow, and the kids are rolling around in the living room wrestling.

Is it ok to throw them out into the rain to clean the house?

Self-centered?

B and Z were having part of their ongoing backseat battle (including, but not limited to: kicking, scratching, name-calling, toy-stealing, and hitting).

In a moment of parent-induced truce, I told Z he had to apologize to B. He did so immediately and stuck his head back in a book.

B started complaining a few moments later, that "I didn't hear him apologize, so he didn't do it. He has to do it again so I hear it".

If a tree falls in the woods and B doesn't hear it, did it really happen?

School's out for summer.

I was asked, "Is that good or bad?".

Both, really.

It will be hard to get my job done and get some time for myself. But, I am also committed to trying to give my kids that free, wide-open kind of summer that I had with time for cricket-catching and berry snatching, as well as the odd pickup athletic event.

Welcome

to all visitors from Stophomework.

Have a look around at my often-neglected little blog.

If you are a "local", I am a guest author for today's post at stop homework, check it out.