European Bed Bugs

The jetsetters are back! The two teens enjoyed every moment.

Ask us, go on, ask us, the parents, when we have ever been to Europe? Never? That would be about right. We were in our twenties before we took our first plane ride. But the children, the children are all different. London was fabulous, Paris was wonderful, Switzerland was beautiful, Rome was marvelous and Italy was full of bedbugs!

I heard this fact as a casual aside the next morning after they had dragged in and unpacked all their luggage the previous night. "We stayed up all night sitting upright on the beds because we could feel the bugs crawling on us. Look at these bites all over us."

Yikes! I shun and shudder and transport everything back outside, repacked in black plastic to fry and sizzle in the blazing sunshine. The children have been deloused and fumigated from their tips to tails and still, I shudder. What if?

Yuck!Every pore is tingling with imagined crawlies! What a great gift? We went to Europe and we brought our parents back...

Oh well, here we go again, That's Life.

Glug, Glug, We're drowning

This week’s “severe” weather has finally moved on and the sun is peeping out. We’re once again scraping up in the detritis of more storm damage.

It’s another bleak day in the Tulsa for insurance adjustors. We were awakened again at 2:30 a.m.., Monday night, by tornado sirens and the reverb of gunshots on the roof. Persons of a military ilk, would have a better description of the size and caliber, but this sound was not like the familiar sound of branches breaking during the ice-storm, (one big cannon blast with a long shimmy and then followed the echoing, reverberating thump). This time it was more like machine gun fire blasting the roof, the windows, the skylights.

Dia snuck out during a lull in the ruckus and salvaged a hailstone. It would have been the perfect size to shoot 18 holes. Our roof could be a 9 hole course. And, yup a sky light is blasted out. The one in the boys bathroom has a big hole and the roof guy says that rooves (plural like hooves) one quarter mile on both directions from my house are totaled. Yay, hurray, one more thing to add to the repair list.

The trees ravaged by December’s ice storm had just about recovered, so it was only fair that they should again be annihilated. There are no blossoms left, and the ground is piled with pollen and whatever branches remained.

However in better news, the hackberry sustained no collateral damage. We’ve spent $1500 on it in a slow and methodical amputation process and now with one trunk and one auxiliary branch, cabled together with state-of-the-art prosthetics, it should be good from here on out.

I spent yesterday pumping eight inches of flood water off the pool cover as it had collapsed in onto itself. The cover filled up and sunk in because all of the water bladders that held the top taut were punctured by hail. Not pinholes but circular rips the size of golf balls.

The black car has $6,700 worth of hail damage. We’ve had it two months and the damage has again exceeded its 60% market/replacement value and may again be totaled. Dia is two for two now, “I can’t believe this storm totaled another car!” *@(*&)(*%$* or nasty words to that effect. (as profane as Dia gets).

The last car was totaled one day after the other ice storm. With Dia’s vehicular luck, she really should consider moving. (Oh she already is?). These have yet to be her fault and she struggles with the no-fault, but total misery anyway learning curve. Her windshield is smashed also, and Dia has renamed the lovely pittance, (referring to it’s current value and it’s pittedness) the black pox. We had put on the car cover, but mere fabric is no deterrent for that size hail. Only one side got pelted, to the east and the truck was against an east fence so it got hit less.

The truck has some damage, but not enough to matter, after all it is a 4x4 Ford and in Oklahoma that much damage can result from one good off-road mudding.

I’m getting ready for the next deluge. The roofers and insurance guys will be pummeling me again. I wonder how much more of a pelting I can stand. Wednesday and Thursdays storms overflowed every saturation point and the school one mile away was closed. Buses can’t drive through two feet of water. There are cars swept away, major intersections closed and the bridge down my street sank (or sunk).

Water, water everywhere. The attic is most and soggy and Dia can now shower outside her shower under the air vent. In my experience, the deluge doesn’t stop just because every crevasse is full and overflowing. I don’t need emails saying, So move.” I’ll let you know how things go when the pits dry out.

Childrearing Secret

My friend had a difficult child.

At three it was apparent that he was bright, but would have development issues. He couldn't follow three simple instructions in a row, his mind wandered from task and the mother was constantly berating the child for his inability to perform basic functions, simple tasks that should have been age appropriate. He had impulse issues, disassociation, it was sad. He was just too flighty, forgetful and hopeless.

Over the years their relationship deteriorated and by the time he was seven she despaired that he could ever "turn out normal." The parents invented treatments, saw therapists and psychologists, changed schools and made every effort to fix this kid. Then something changed.

They gave up.

That was when she and her husband made one change in the child's treatment and it affected everything. What changed? One basic thing, a hug. They learned to participate in the hug that the child had once upon a time so desperately offered whenever he goofed up. It seems that his cousins (the best counselors) had decided that as a group they needed to hug their grandparents more often and so the child decided to set aside the previous years of rebuff and took it upon himself to reach out and hug his parents more.

Almost instantly, that dysfunctional relationship changed. He is now adaptable, confident, yet still different. While he still struggles with bein different every day of his life, he is happy, comfortable and I love him more than ever. (oops, the mother loves him) This bumbling teenager is sensitive, enthusiastic, exciting, interesting, challenging, brilliant and insightful. And did I mention Happy?

Need another testimony? My close girlfriend was having danger moments with her teenaged daughter. She saw behavior that was life threatening and worried about what to do. She prayed and was told, Hug Her. She did in spite of the physical rebuffs, she persisted lightly and over time things changed. Withholding touch is cruel, yet it is a common punishment. We tell them, "Go away, and leave me alone."

I promise you that even though it is so hard to learn to love an alien, it is not impossible. I know that babies separated from human touch die. How could I not understand that basic principle for humanity, children, teenagers, the elderly? Hug. Hug. Hug. How many times have you hugged your child, your husband, your mom today? Find a way, Institute a law--once a day--HAVE THEY HUGGED? If not, they have to get out of bed to hug someone! Be bold! Start and even though they may push you away (trust is hard to regain) keep hugging! ! ! ! Institute group hugs! It will make all the difference.

Speaking as a former non-hugger, consider yourself hugged today, Terina

Dress her up, but Don't Take Her

There is such freedom in a small town. The children run unconfined off to play in the creek or trek up the mountain. The children can run off for the day, reminiscent of the “see you back here at suppertime” like in the days of my youth.

It's great when I can use them to run over to the hardware store a block away for nails, or glue, an occasional bolt, just the right size to repair the hole I’ve just made. Unfortunately, their freedom means that occasionally I lose my errand runner and that I have to change out of the sweat shirt and don a ball cap to go to the hardware for my latest item needed to repair my repair.

The first week I made a concerted effort to be civilized and clean up before I trekked to “town”. My Mom, the consummate lady, who would still wear hats to church if she wasn’t so fashion aware, tried to instill some refinement in me. She would never be caught dead without looking beautiful—and would never consciously frequent the hardware store.

One day I just gave up. "I’m only going for a minute," I tell myself and what will it matter.
That day I slipped over to the mailbox and while dropping off, I hear, “Hello Cuz.” Yikes! I should have known, I should have known. I’m looking my scroungiest and there is my cuz.

Nearly everyone in town is my cuz, that was why my husband, a transplant, was such a catch! He flooded new blood to the gene pool. I don’t mind looking like I’m working, when I’m working, but work necessitates stuff and somebody has to go get it. And hardware stores are accustomed to seeing hard working people right?

Dad and I went there last week to pick up some liquid nails and some mud. I love working with Dad because he gets so much done in so little time. There will be no changing clothes when we drop into town for supplies. It’s drop and go and get back and work!

Bikes be darned, for the block-away trip. We’re driving the Tracker. The hardware store owner, Stefan, is also a transplant and he makes every effort to bring in business by being cordial. It’s apparent that he knows Dad, greets him by name and wants to know what project he is working on now.

My husband dropped in there a day or two later and introduced himself as my fathers son-in-law. The owner said, “Oh yeah, he was in here the other day with his wife. I don’t think I’ve ever met his wife before.”

My husband, who knows the genteel nature of my mother, responded, “I think that was probably my wife he was with.” Stefan’s only comment, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

And so am I... on so many different levels.

Flush with Money or Money Flushers

More money to being spent on a gatekeeping system to keep intruders out of public schools? (Tulsa World article 2-11-08).

I have a better idea. Instead, let’s build underground facilities with secure walkways between buildings, and institute mandatory lock down upon entry. We could then ban all outside clothing, backpacks, and electronics. I'm sure these ideas have already been considered, but if we put a guard on every tower for outside time and then constantino wire…

Why are we wasting the money on yet another fruitless endeavor? There are two reasons for increased security measures, to placate fearful parents or to minimize liability; neither of which justifies added expense in this area.

Reasonable and rational people know that schools aren’t built as lockdown facilities—nor can they be secured while children race across an open campus in pursuit of lunch and recess. Our best efforts cannot insure our children’s complete security.

I have an nine yr old in second grade and I’m aware of his school’s futile attempt at safety. I check in and out at the volunteer desk, and must now present photo id to pick up my son who, even on my worst hair day, could pick me out of a line-up. This measure will, in no stretch of the imagination, protect my son.

I sit in the parking lot and I watch while people go in and out of that school on legitimate business, the repairmen, inter-school delivery, day care pick-ups, etc. and I can envision no possible way to prevent an intruder who was intent on destruction. I just imagine the volunteer racing up the open hallway after him yelling, "Wait, you haven't checked in!"

If our intent is to pretend vigilance and to present yet another deterrent or to placate litigious persons, let's once again roll out the x-ray machines that languish unused in the entry of these schools—another remnant from the last security frenzy. Lastly, we could purchase the crossing-guard a new official-looking uniform.

P.S. And then let’s talk rationally about neglected video survellience on buses and the true threat from within.

...training in deception

What are we teaching in the high schools?

One success of increased security measures is that my teenagers are feeling increasingly mistrusted, and deceived. With such treatment, they can’t help but develop into youth who are untrustworthy. Why are they treated as such?

Weekly, I’m entertained by tales from school of how teens must outwit the newest security measure that encourages law-abiding youth to connive and deceive in order to move past the limitations that they see as futile and recognize as insidious encroachments to their liberties.

The thinking has become: "Toss your cell phone in the bushes while waiting in line for the search." "If you are too dumb to think of a way to ditch the system, then you deserve to get caught."

My tenth grader says one day the teacher warned the students of a backpack search outside in the hallway after school and told the kids to hand over their illegal cells and she would "protect" them.

She collected 25 from 27 students and promptly took them to the office.

WHAT ARE WE TEACHING?

Even my son, who doesn't carry a cell phone could see the entrapment training taking place. Kids may have no rights, but the training we are giving them is to deceive. Thanks schools.

...developing bus trust

Please don’t spend any more money on outside threats without fixing the threat within! I'm more concerned with the pressing concern of my children being unable to ride the bus without fear.

I recommend installing video cameras or adult monitors (in camouflage with pellet guns is probably pushing it) on buses first.

The sure fire way to get my teen up at 5 a.m. is the gentle reminder that his sister is leaving with the car, but "don't worry, you can catch the bus." I've never seen a 9th grader move faster.

There is a shortage of seats, the verbal abuse is absurd, and the other things that happen on the buses are abhorrent. Last year, my then Sophomore daughter (and in response, I) reported teenagers engaging in oral sex on the way home from school. Both children would prefer to take my car (which is as old and more cranky than I am).

I realize that this issue has been considered and I know videos are no answer, because who then will monitor the monitors, etc., but more money flung at a exterior security processes that for the most part will serve to do no more than falsely assuage fear and further complicate parenting—no way!

Just venting futilely,

Terina Dee

A parent clinging to the hope that there are only 3 1/2 years of high school left and just praying for an end to the social degradations of school before my grade-schooler gets there.