Shoe-ly you Must be Kidding

It’s been a while since I posted about shoes.  It’s not that there haven’t been shoe-nanigans a foot (Ha! Mom would have loved that one Juj).  It’s just that I’ve been a bit preoccupied with myself lately.

Generally, you can judge my mood based on my choice of shoes.  Hightops? I was willing to commit to the extra effort needed to get my non-bending foot in the shoe.  Not an easy task.  It also means Aaron has not stolen all of my socks.  Low top Converse or my Vans – I recognize the need for shoes but I just can’t totally commit right now.  Flip flops? I HAVE to wear something… No shoes? That can best be described as I have no intention of getting out of the car.

Lately it’s been flip flops or nothing.  Basically, if I have to put on shoes, the answer is no.

The pile of shoes on my porch has grown.   Aaron was asked to clean his room and he did.  Only problem is he bagged up everything as “trash”.  Fearing the worst, I went through every bag before they were disposed of.  I came away with MULTIPLE pairs of perfectly good shoes (including several pairs that were basically new).  For some reason, they are all still on the porch.  I probably should do something about that.  Tomorrow.

The singles are still there as well, including a few additions.  On a recent trip to the Converse store I discovered that they take old shoes and grind them up to make playground surface material.  How cool is that?  Have I taken them down to add them to to the collection box?  Nope.  But I saved this picture on my phone to remind me.

Because the pile of shoes that I literally walk past multiple times every day isn’t a big enough reminder?

For as long as I can remember we’ve had a basket at the front door to collect shoes.  We’re just not a big shoe wearing family and generally the first thing we do is SHOES OFF.  After years of being annoyed with the overflowing basket of shoes (mostly mine – not going to lie), Eric bought this monstrosity.  I FREAKING HATE IT!  Don’t get me wrong, he meant well but… If I could figure out another solution I would.  I swear, as soon as these boys move out, this thing is going, too! And notice, most of the shoes are near it, not on it. Also notice – there is at least one lone shoe there. That would be Aaron.

And, to top it off, the basket is still at the front door.  Actually, the shoes have begun to migrate over.  Apparently, they’re not a fan of the rack either.

Yesterday, Aaron showed up at my office during the break from his dance class looking for food and water.  “Mom, will you drive me back up to my class?” No… wait, where are your shoes?  He left them in class and walked across campus barefoot.  90 degrees plus outside.  Asphalt the whole way.  Dumbass.  Why does he keep doing this????

While we’re talking about Aaron, he got a new job and he’s already planned out what he’s buying with his first check.  Shoes (high heeled drag shoes, but still, shoes.)  The boy who can’t remember to wear shoes is spending his entire net worth on shoes.  It would be like me opting for raisin cookies.  Insanity.

There’s currently a pair of blue seude-ish high heeled boots on my pool deck.  Isn’t that where you keep yours?

It’s not just Aaron though.  Anthony’s taking ceramics over the summer.  Yesterday – “Damn it, I forgot closed toed shoes.” Today, I specifically asked him if he had his shoes before we left.  “YESSSSSS.” Complete with eyeroll.  I even suggested to him that he keep a pair of Aaron’s porch shoes in the car on the off chance he forgot again.  Narrator: indeed he did not have his shoes nor did he put the extras in the car.  As Juli says, “This is me not caring.”

Last week, WWIII broke out over… shoes.  Anthony is convinced that Aaron is stealing the insoles from his work shoes.  Aaron witnessed the dogs eating said insoles (he didn’t stop them but that’s another issue).  We’ve all witnessed the dogs eating insoles and shoes and socks…  I found one of the insoles in the backyard with a guilty looking dog nearby AND the shoes in question were literally chewed on.  Apparently, the dogs like shoes WAY more than the rest of us.  Did any of this abate the fight? Nope.

A week later, I am sure he’s still harboring resentment over Shoegate 2018. Likely because the outcome of his fight with Aaron was a side battle with me that ended in him walking the 2.5 miles to work when I pulled my car over with an ultimatum to let it drop.  Walked to work no big deal.  With no insoles?  You’d think after 19 years he’d know that when I say, “Don’t make me pull this car over”, you should take that shit seriously.  I would have even stopped at the store and bought him replacement insoles if he wasn’t being such an ass.

For the record, if Anthony had used Eric’s  damn shoe closet, the dogs likely would not have eaten the insoles/shoes.  I’m not saying it’s not needed.  I’m just saying it’s an eyesore and I hate it.

So friends, I’ve already kicked off my flip flops for the night. And no, they’re not on the rack. They’re actually in a whole other pile nowhere near the front door. Yeah, I have issues.

The Mysterious Case of the Single Shoe(s)

I have never in my 48.75 years on this planet lost a pair of shoes.  Keys? Wallet? Phone? My mind? Of course.  But shoes? Nope.

Heck, I’ve even lost a pair of pants… but that’s a story for another day.

So, HOW on Earth does my child CONSTANTLY lose his shoes? This is not a new phenomena.  Hours before leaving for camp – “Mom my boots are missing.” Dance shoes “stolen”. Leave for school with shoes, come home without them.  How does this keep happening?

In January, I found him a pair of AMAZING gold sparkly hightop Converse (a killer deal at Ross).  By early February they were gone.  GONE! “Someone threw them away at school.” Wait… what?

As if that’s not weird enough, there is currently a collection of SINGLE SHOES on my porch.  Not one single shoe (although that would be weird as well) but MULTIPLE.  Where are their mates?  We’re not talking socks that can get lost in the dryer – SHOES! Not cute little baby shoes that could easily be misplaced – GROWN ASS ADULT-SIZED SHOES!

How does one lose a SINGLE SHOE? Do you just limp home with one shoe on? Talk about a Walk of Shame.

Thanks to a clubfoot, up until age 8, I pretty much only needed left shoes.  There was probably a box in a closet somewhere filled with brand new right shoes.  Someone happening upon it probably was as perplexed as I was when I found this stash headed to the garbage (trashed since he couldn’t find the mates).

I have no idea if the other shoes will turn up.  They could have been left at school.  Or in someone’s car.  Or at his grandparent’s house. Or a parking lot.  Or the park.  Maybe they’ve gone to the Upside Down place where socks and Tupperware lids and bread twisty ties and forgotten homework live.  The shit I lost last night with him is probably there, too.

Maybe Luna took them and hid them outside as she is known to do. Or maybe… just maybe, they are in the 100 square foot dumpster we call “Aaron’s room”.

Todays moral: Like much of my life – I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Saving 2nd Base

Some observations from this morning’s trip to radiology:

1. Lady, the sign clearly states TAKE YOUR PERSONAL ITEMS WITH YOU.  Yes, that means, you.  No, you should not leave them in the changing room.  No you don’t need to repeatedly ask the tech.  You just need to read the SIGNS (or even listen when the tech told you to take them with you in the first place).
2. The robe closes in the BACK (same lady).  There was a sign for that, too BTW.
3. Wondering if there is rampant fraud in the area of mammos?  Had to show my photo ID to check in, then they hospital tagged me, then the tech confirmed by identity both verbally AND off the tag before removing the tag for the file.  I don’t think I’ve gone through that many steps for… anything!  Mammos should be free and available for all – but that’s a universal healthcare rant for another day.
4. Forgot about the appointment until iWatch reminded me.  Therefore, forgot to not deodorize.  Damn it.
5. I didn’t get a sticker.  I feel slightly cheated. (My participation-trophy-generation is showing.)

Seriously though, don’t put them off, people.  Four photos, 20 minutes.  I’d say “no sweat” but… see #4.

We didn’t go to Utah

We didn’t go to Utah last weekend with the band.  Eric wasn’t feeling it.  Aaron was being kind of an ass.  It was a 12 hour trip to watch an 8-minute performance. Juli said “Fuck no”.  It just wasn’t going to happen.

I’m really glad the other moms went.

It was supposed to be a fun trip.  Senior year. Perform. Hang out with your friends. Visit Zion NP.  There was even a swim/rock climbing party planned!  He was REALLY looking forward to it.  Couldn’t stop talking about it.  What could possibly go wrong?

Aaron.  If he’s not the source of the drama – it seems he’s right in the middle of it.

He’s emotional and high spirited and strong-willed and opinionated and he has zero filter. Zero.

And he found the drama – or it found him – and with a few choice words the weekend quickly spiraled in a fiery descent. And two of the band/scout moms were there to keep the embers at bay and get him back to Cali without me having to make (yet another) rescue mission.

It’s never a good day when he calls screaming about so-and-so and what she said or did (or didn’t do that she was supposed to do but didn’t).  He didn’t want to hear that mean girls suck or life isn’t fair or suck it up and (try to) avoid the drama or really anything I had to say.  I mean how do you talk a kid down when you are 3 states away anyhow?

Angie called that night to say how upset he was.  She let him vent.  Shannon had the joy of listening to him over lunch on Sunday.

He was still pissed when he got home Sunday afternoon.  And he still hadn’t let it go Monday morning and then he reignited.  Great.  Thankful for the teacher that talked him down and refocused him.  Concentrate on what you love, not on petty people that bring you down.

So had we gone would it have been any different? I’ve mulled this over non-stop for the last 48 hours.  Kicked myself for not going – not being there to diffuse a volatile situation before it turned into this shitstorm of emotions.  This isn’t something new.  Every time this happens I live with the mommy guilt.  I wasn’t at Forrest Lawn when he demanded to come home early.  I wasn’t there during the Pacific Crest tour.  And I wasn’t in Utah either.

It probably wouldn’t have made any difference at all.  He still would have had his feelings hurt, he still would have had his meltdown, and as a bonus he likely would have DEMANDED to drive home with us instead of living outside his comfort zone and riding the bus with his team.  And in classic parenting fail caused by all-consuming guilt, I probably would have let him.  I also probably would have lost my temper.  Probably not probably.

Deep down I know that I can’t always be there to rescue him from himself.  I can only be there to pick up the pieces and hope it will be the last time.  It won’t be.  It’s Tuesday and he really didn’t want to go to band this morning.  But he went anyway.  And that’s progress.

This parenting a quasi-adult thing is way harder than we expected; he may be 18 on paper but he’s still just a kid.  My kid.

I’m trying to stay out of the problem and instead just keep encouraging him to be strong, be the best Aaron he can be, and stop letting the “mean girls” win.  Eric’s fighting that inner battle between jumping in and staying out, too.  Neither one of us wants to see him quit (yet again) and at some point, we may not have the choice but to intervene.

As always, I’m uber thankful for the tribe that bands together to help us raise these boys.  I’ve lost track of the number of people that have been there for them in times of need, both emotional and physical.  It proves that parenting (especially parenting Aaron) is more than a full-time job.  It truly takes a village and luckily, sometimes that village travels to provide him comfort on the road, too.  You rock. mamas!

Counting Down

It’s hard to believe we’re counting down to Aaron graduating. Even just the idea that he’s graduating (Gd willing) is INSANE. I’m sure we’re not the only ones saying “finally”. Fairly certain the entire high school faculty/staff will heave a collective sigh of relief to see him walk the field.

It’s been a constant struggle with this one.  At least 20 IEP meetings and countless schedule changes and begging him to just do the damn work AND turn it in!  The IDEA that we may be done with K-12 in our house is enough to make me giddy.  What stands in our way is enough to make me need a drink.

209 Days.

Not that we’re keeping track or anything.

Back in August we had a meeting to see if it was even plausible that he’d graduate. Seven classes. That’s it. Pass seven classes. No biggie, right?

Ha! Because… Aaron.

None of the required classes are dance or guard.

So based on how the first few months of the year have gone, I haven’t put a lot of heart into Aaron graduating. I don’t want to get my hopes up and then have them plummet to the ground in an epic free fall.  I’ve even procrastinated the yearbook pic. Classic Mom of the Year.

Deadline? THIS Friday. So tonight, the shit got real and this happened

He proudly posted it on his Instagram.  Hoping this gets him to take those 7 classes seriously. And focus on the prize at the end of the race.

209 days. 7 classes. We can do this. Right?

5 Things I HATE 2.0

Fall is in the air and for some Gd forsaken reason that means candy corn!  What the heck is this crap anyway? Seriously? This should not exist.  This is NOT CANDY! Snickers is candy.  Even Eric’s Big Hunks are candy.  And it’s not corn – it doesn’t even look like corn! This is just GROSS.  Just NO!

And Flamin’ Hot Cheetos? You take everything good about Cheetos and cover them in fluorescent red chili powder! NO!  I have mad respect for the Hot Cheeto dude and his rise from janitor to VP and I totally dig elote but this odd concoction is no bueno to me.

Vince’s – well if you’re an 909er you either love this place or hate it.  I’ve never met a single person that was in the middle.  Seriously, no gray area.  Me? I CAN’T STAND IT!  There is nothing nice I can say… NOTHING! The sauce, the salad, the “soup”, UGH!

And then there’s pepperoni – bleh.  Probably a hold over from not eating it as a kid but between the grease and the flavor, no thank you.  Yes, just one of the things I pick off the pizza in my house because my family does not see the benefit of pepperoni-free pizza.

Finally, Chipotle.  What is everyone’s fascination with this place? Their rice tastes funny and the food is simply ick.  I can’t… I just can’t.

Weigh in – divergent opinions welcome just don’t try to be helpful and deliver this crap to me in hopes I’ll change my mind.  Not going to happen.

Not YOUR normal waiting area

I spend A LOT of time sitting in my car waiting.

Over the years… swim practice, scout meetings, school pickup, kids at work, band, Six Flags. You name it, I’ve probably waited through it.

Early morning. Late at night. Heat of the day. Freezing cold. Well lit lot. Pitch dark scared for my life in the grossest part of town. Countless HOURS of my life!

I’m not a huge socializer so sitting in my car is usually more palatable than making small talk with relative strangers.

I’m also not a huge fan of driving home just to turn around and drive back. Nap, read, Facebook (heck, even blog) in the car sounds like SO much better use of my time.

Los Osos should have given me a designated parking space by now, I’ve spent so much time in their parking lot. Waiting.

People wonder how I possibly have time to read as many books as I do. I’m ALWAYS waiting for someone!

This morning, I’m waiting again. This time, not for a kid. I’m sitting in a sketchy gravel lot that might be a mobile home park or a construction yard. Who knows.

Irony? E won’t wait for the kids. Thinks I’m insane. And yet… here I am. Waiting for him. In a sketchy lot in Ontario.

Me: I’m going to go get a drink.
E: (looking around) You’re LEAVING me HERE?
Me: Yet, it’s ok for me to sit HERE?

So here I am, waiting… again. Just another day in… paradise?

Mornings

Mornings suck.  Especially when they start before 6am.  Up before the sun is even peeking its head over the houses behind me.  Why? Two words… zero period.

Have to be at school by 6:45 which he thinks means 6:30 which means out the door by 6:20.  UGH! And Aaron in the morning is SOOOOO joyful. NOT! Unmedicated.  Hangry. Rushed. Yeah, great.

This morning started with him frantically making a pirate costume for the rally on Friday.  It’s TUESDAY. At 6am!

Dressed up (even though he has guard practice this morning) and thrusting the ipad in my face to show me the garb he HAS TO HAVE RIGHT THIS MINUTE. Yeah, no.  It’s 6am! Go away!

I have no idea what he took to school with him.  Maybe it was the pieces for a pirate costume.  BTW there were TWO pairs of shoes in the backseat of the car after he left – not sure if he was actually wearing shoes. Not sure I care.

I think I already need a nap.

Update – this… in the cloud… NO SHOES & ONE rainbow sock – just like every pirate EVER! No words.

It’s only September!

What the hell, Aaron? It’s only September 10th!  We don’t need to have Halloween OR Christmas decorations out yet.  No! Just NO!

I came home last week to this:

He went to Dollar Tree and bought a bunch of Halloween crap and draped it all over our front yard. Great! We now OFFICIALLY have the worst looking yard in the neighborhood.

But that’s not all…

This is what greeted me when I walked in.  When cleaning out Grandpa Curt’s house, Aaron brought home not one BUT TWO small artificial trees and YES, they are already up.  Once again, SEPTEMBER 10TH!  Christmas is 106 days away and oh BTW I’m Jewish!  He seriously needs a damn countdown app!

If he starts hiding eggs around the house, I am out of here.