Tempermental Tuesday

It has been a day people. Bare with me as I go on a few tangents, that are too lengthy for Facebook statuses...

1. Email Subject Lines: Today, a customer sent me an email as she does every week on Tuesday. Usually, her emails have an attached PDF for her advertising. Today, she made a mistake and didnt attach the PDF. Something she has done, a handful of times in the past; which is fine. I kindly replied to her email that she had forgotten the attachment. Loosely quoted, she replies, "We will not be running this weekend, because of the holiday. Please, read the message again". I wanted to say, "look lady, I was on loopy pain meds LAST week. There is no message, just a blank email!" But I opened, closed, and reopened the email a few times, as if something may appear. Then I noticed that her subject line didnt look right. What the heck?! This lady wrote me an entire message in the subject line! "Good Morning ladies. We will not be running this weekend because of the holiday. Have a great long weekend!" Again, I have to bite my tongue, or fingers. I wanted to say "Oh. I am sorry I missed your message in the subject line, because it was not in the message field, where messages go, *explicit*." But, unfortunately honesty is not acceptable in sales. So, I simply replied, "Ok, thank you."

2. Websites With "Contact Us By Email": Today I started to fill out the necessary paperwork to submit the liability claims for Corey's football injury. (See prior post) One of the fields required the address of our insurance provider. I look at the member card- no address. BUT! There is a website. I enter the www. and proceed to the "Contact Us" page. No addresses listed, but there are about 7 different 800-numbers to call...AND an email address! I instantly felt comfort in the email address listed. I just KNEW that this email address was going to save me from multiple dials, transfers and lengthy periods of elevator music. So, I enthusiastically opened my email and informed the mystery recipient about my task at hand. About 15 minutes later I hear my email alert. It was the insurance people. Woo hoo, speedy! "Ms. Groves. Please call 888......." Seriously? The email response team gave me one of the 7 phone numbers listed on the same page I obtained the email address?! The following emails were sent and received...

Me: With all due respect... What is the purpose of listing an email address in the contact section of the website, when your reply is a phone number that I am trying to avoid in the first place?

"Debbie": In order for us to give you information, we will need you to call with more specific information. This will help you avoid calling several different phone numbers and the possibility for long periods of hold times as well as calling multiple phone numbers.

Me: That being the case, a reply with request for said specific information would have sufficed. You have now taken the time to reply to my expression of discontent. Why not take the initiative to request the information that you need to answer my question via email?

If necessary, I would have gladly provided you with my son's assigned number; with the expectation that you, the recipient of the "contact us" email inbox, have the capability to give me the address that I need. I am not asking for an explanation of benefits, medical records/history, anything of confidential matter. I have asked for an address. If an address can not be provided via email; what content CAN be provided? Please inform me of the functions of the "contact us" email address, so that I may avoid future confusion or unreasonable expectations.

"Debbie" hasnt replied.

Excuse me while I kick myself for not applying for the job that merely requires me to reply to emails with an 800 number.

3. Black and White Facebook: This evening I had to take Corey to get 2 root canals on the teeth that were injured during the previously stated football fiasco. While I was in the lobby, I caught an announcement that the president was to address the nation this evening. I knew I was not going to be home for the program. And, the fact that I dont have DVR meant that I would have to rely on the internet to get myself up to speed. Once dinner and homework time was done, and the boys went off to bed, I satisfied my Family Feud obsession and refreshed my Facebook homepage to see a link from Youtube or Yahoo, that covered the address. So, I proceed to the verbiage listed, because for some reason this laptop hates videos. Then, I noticed that there were a ton of comments below the article. I was intrigued by how America felt, so I started reading through some of them. I am gravely disappointed to report that the comments grew hateful, and full of bigot remarks. Black people - we get it, Obama is black. White people - shut up, he is half white too. What part of the man's race effects his decision to withdraw from a war? Half of those commentators could have saved those keystrokes for their last. OR, to type something in an effort to effect our country in a positive light. I'm just saying...

There you have it. My day, and tangents, in a nutshell.

Goodnight.

Believe!

After counting down the many, many, almost too many days of summer, I was finally able to watch those 4 growing young men whom have eaten me out of house and home, walk down the street to their elementary school. 

Growing up, I never liked school lunches. The lukewarm, raw rectangular dough, covered in ketchup and flecks of white cheese, served as "pizza" were never palatable to me. Nor were the sugar cookies "flavored" with peach juice that had spilled over it's compartment, during my walk from lunch line, to lunch table. But, let me tell you: NOW?! I think school lunches are the best thing since sliced bread! As long as that bread doesnt come out of my cabinet and require me to furnish condiments, lunch meat, chips, fruit, jello, nor yogurt!

Yep. Monday was a great, eventful day for everyone in our family. Chris started 1st grade, with what is now half of a tooth prodtruding from his front gums; after spending the last 3 years of his life toothless, thanks to Cyle and the influence of a lil show called Power Rangers. Cyle started 3rd grade, with a new rebuttal for comments about his excessively hairy arms. "Oh ya? Well I can shave the hair off my arms. You cant shave the ugly off your face!" (Note: I will not admit nor deny having any part of that statement.) Caden started 4th grade, with that glazed over twinkle in his eye; letting me know that I will become very familiar with his new teacher's voice, face, handwriting, and email address. And finally, Corey started 5th grade... his final year of elementary school. Excuse me while I sob uncontrollably into the collar of my t-shirt.

The boys werent the only ones that made academic debuts earlier this week. Monday August 23, 2010 I took one small step for man, one giant leap for single mothers: I walked into my first official college lecture! Woo hoo! Exciting stuff, right?! I thought so too... until I glanced over the packet of papers issued to everyone in my Algebra class, called a syllabus. I thought I was making moves when I applied for financial aid on time. And, when I got my little plastic college ID, with official parking pass. But when I glanced over that syllabus, this became REAL. By "real", I mean intimidating as shit! And, this was even before I knew there were 3 other syllabuses for my online courses, that awaited my review.

Despite the shock to my system, I survived my 2+ hour math class, and hurried home to feed, bathe, and check homework for my 4 sons. Once bedtime rolled around, I was able to log onto the distance education site, where I started plugging away at my online classes. I really did surprise myself with how much I accomplished. All the while I had ONE song stuck in my head. I think it shall become my anthem for the next 2 years and 9 months.



Now if you will excuse me, I must rock out to my anthem, while I hunt for a free download of PowerPoint Viewer for Mac.

Are you ready for some football?!?!

It all started Friday night, before Metro Youth Sports Jamboree. The preparations felt comparable to Christmas Eve! The boys and I shared such excitement, that I am certain none of us slept a solid hour, the entire night... 6AM, the alarm went off and started the day. There were mouth pieces to be boiled & molded, pads to be put in pants, deodorant to be applied in mass quantities.

At 7:45AM we head off to the beautiful Saint Francis University field. At 7:53AM Corey realized that he had forgotten his helmet at our house. One of my least favorite things about having multiple children: Something ALWAYS gets forgotten. (Isnt it enough that their heads are attached?!) So, I drop Corey and Cyle off with the squad and start my journey back to our house to obtain the forgotten necessities.

Caden, Chris and I returned in time to hear The National Anthem, and the speeches by organization leaders. Then the games began! 

Corey's squad had the third scrimmage into the day. Woot woot! Everything was going GREAT! Corey got his turn to play on that immaculate field; Which I would love to elaborate upon, however, football plays are all JapTalian to me. So, 2 minutes and 38 seconds left in the game, the announcer says "a player for the Chargers is being escorted off the field, bleeding". I look up from Caden, Cyle & Chris to see #99, MY CHILD, being walked off the field with a bloody rag to his mouth.

Naturally, my petitely challenged legs made moves faster than they have in YEARS. And the bleachers that I was running down, 3 sons in tow, seemed no match for my worried mother adrenaline rush! On a normal day, I would have fallen flat on my uncoordinated ass. Finally I was united with my crying, screaming, 11 year old baby.

I would soon piece the puzzle together that, "Why would he throw a helmet?!" were the words being cried through the mounds of gauze and ice pack. A helmet? My son was hit by a HELMET? WHY wasnt he WEARING a helmet... or the mouth piece we boiled just this morning?! Come to find out there was a player on the team that had an issue with his own helmet. So, during this child's turn in the game, he was instructed by a coach to borrow my son's. When the helmet was to be returned to Corey, a coach threw it to him. At which point it hit his bottom lip into two of his top front incisors, causing the teeth to act as a blade- scraping helmet paint into Corey's lip AND breaking the teeth in half.

After 10 minutes of cleaning, icing and calming, I was able to head for the emergency room with all four of my sons. But nothing in my life is ever as simple as my last statement implies. Yes. I said that statement appeared simple. For you would think that an injured child, and the impending trip to the ER with FOUR children would be enough excitement for one woman, right? Wrong. Three steps out of the stadium the most untimely, treacherous downpour began. And, of course my van was half a block down and across the street, in the overflow parking lot.

Corey, Caden, Cyle, Chris and I sloshed through the instant puddles and buckets of rain, into my van. I start it up, turn on the headlights and wipers, and get ready to GO. At which point I remember the driver side wiper needs to be replaced, as if it is WAVING at me, perhaps saying "have a nice day".

After driving 30mph the entire trip, we finally arrive at the hospital. We weren't in the waiting room long enough to get settled before Corey's name was called. We proceed back to an exam room with what appears to be a dentist's chair, for the patient and one visitor chair. Of course, I am not surprised that the room did not accommodate my family of 5. Who brings 4 kids into an emergency room, anyways? Oh ya. ME.

Note: Please excuse any misspellings in this next paragraph, because I have to fight the dry heaves as I type... Shortly after we were situated in the room, the boys' father showed up and took the younger 3 boys with him to the waiting area. Then the fun began. I got to watch, as my son had shavings of white helmet paint extracted from his marble-sized bottom lip. Then, a 3 inch needle injected into the wound and one single stitch laced.

I have to say, my son is a brave little man. He did not cry AT ALL. I, on the other hand, fought many tears. Not just because of his procedure then and there, but as I look at what used to be two perfect little permanent teeth in the front of his mouth. Teeth that I hope can be repaired on Monday, as soon as the dentist office opens... Prayers are greatly appreciated. 

So, if one were to ask me, am I "ready for some football", I would have to say that my answer is NO! I did not sign up for all of THIS!

Post-It Note

As I sit in the disaster area located in the front room of my house; I am actually not disgruntled about the PopTart wrappers on the coffee table, nor the markers and sheets of elementary art strewn across my floor, shoes of various sizes scattered throughout, DVD cases everywhere BUT the TV stand and the questionable sticky substance on the surface of my touchscreen cellphone; But WHY these things came to be...

It all started early this morning. As I left for work, I wrote the following list on a Post-It note and stuck it in my oldest son's hand.

2 PopTarts

1 Peanut Butter & Jelly

Share half the bag of pretzels

Frozen Fruit 

1 Jello Cup for snack, in the afternoon

NO Wii

Finish cleaning your room!

Allow me to provide a brief history of the Post-It note list... Three days ago, I went to the grocery store and spent roughly $124 on groceries. Two days ago, I came home from work, to find that my 4 sons had consumed 12 frozen waffles with half a jar of peanut butter, 14 GoGurts, 3/4 package of deli ham, 1/4 package of deli turkey, an entire loaf of wheat bread, 6 jello cups and a bag of frozen fruit. Now, every morning before I leave, I feel compelled to write their menu and any random notes that come to mind. 

Fast forward, the 6.5 hours that I worked today, and the 15 minute commutes to and from... I walk through my front door, and trip over Cyle's football shoulder pad thingies, almost falling onto what I believe was our dog under a quilt. 

"WHAT THE HECK?!... WHY DOES THE LIVING ROOM LOOK LIKE THIS?!" 

At which point, my oldest son replies "You didn't put it on a Post-It note".

If you will excuse me, I need to go buy bigger Post-It notes!