Picking the Right Plan

As you may recall from my last entry, part of Hadley’s 12th birthday present was a future shopping trip to The Woodlands Mall. Thinking that it would be a great idea to Carpe the Diem while it was hot (hey, I have a Ph.D. ... I can mix metaphors if I wanna) we headed over there after her soccer game this past weekend. Conveniently, her game  on Saturday was actually in The Woodlands and equally conveniently, they played like total garbage and barely managed to tie the worst team in the league ... so I had plenty of nervous energy to walk off. (Editor’s Note: If they play like that in the South Texas Cup this weekend I will be in no shape to roadie Reagan’s gig Saturday night.)

Anyway ... we headed over there after the train wreck (i.e., the game), got some lunch, and started The Process. Hunter and Hollis were with us, and they promised to not be totally obnoxious and irritating while we were attempting to find some new outfits for The Sweetie Princess (TSP). Ultimately it got to be too much for them and they simply sat on benches outside while we Justiced and Hollistered and Aeropostaled ... but they were pretty good sports about things overall.

Bottom line, two hours into this little extravaganza we had not spent a dime. For those of you who read last week’s entry, you might recall that TSP is a little hard to please in the clothes department. The odd thing is that she’s not being bratty about it. Not at all. It’s like she has to be convinced to buy something. You really have to force her to go take some things and go into that dressing room and will you PLEASE just take them in there and try them on and see how they look and PLEASE don’t give me any lip about it I am tired of walking around not buying things. Wellllllll, this time I just let her do it her way ... which basically involves walking into a store, following her around while she glances at a couple of tables and racks of stuff, listening to her say “they don’t have stuff here that I like” or “I like that shirt ... oh wait, I already have that shirt”, and then following her out the door.

So we had traversed the entire Woodlands Mall and were headed out when I saw the Verizon kiosk. Background ... all of Hadley’s friends have cell phones. I think some of her friends probably were born with them. She has been asking me for a phone for the past year or so, off and on. I’ve always told her that she doesn’t need one (she doesn’t) and she always says that everybody else has one (they do) and then I ask her if she would jump off a building if everybody else was jumping off a building (she wouldn’t) and the game goes on and on like that. Well, the week before, I had actually gone to our Verizon store to buy one for her but of course the wait to SEE a thoroughly incompetent representative was 30 minutes, after which time it would be 30 minutes bare minimum to actually do something as complicated as adding one line to our existing service ... so I took it as bad karma and bagged that idea.

The Woodlands Mall kiosk, however, was completely empty.

We walked over there and of course Hadley jokingly asked me if I was finally going to buy her a phone and I said “uh huh”. For a minute or two she didn’t believe me, but when I told her to pick one out she literally started jumping up and down and laughing sort of like a crazy person (OK, totally like a crazy person) and then hugged me every ten seconds for the entire 40 minutes that it took them to add the one line to our existing service. 40 minutes. Seriously. I probably should save this rant for another entry on its own, but how hard can it possibly be to activate a phone and tell me it is going to be another $9.95 per month? These people are almost as incompetent as pharmacists. I bet if you went to Walgreen’s on a day when nobody on the entire planet was sick and you asked the pharmacist to hand you the bottle of aspirin beside the cash register he would say “Sure, no problem ... it’ll be ready for you in 30 minutes”. 

Back to the story ... once we had served out our sentence at the Verizon kiosk, Hadley immediately began grilling Hunter about exactly how to use the phone. Hunter has had his phone for about a year and a half, and within about seven minutes of first opening its box he had already figured out how to send international digitally encrypted video-faxes of sequenced images he had taken with the camera’s phone. Those of you who know Hunter will understand. Those who don’t will just think I’m / he’s weird. And you’re right. Anyway, Hunter filled her in on all the details such that she was texting away in no time. Pure. Giddy. Happiness.

She does use the actual PHONE part of the camera occasionally. She called me at 8:03 this morning to tell me in the I’m-calling-you-from-the-school-bus-on-my-supercute-new-phone-and-my-friends-are-watching voice that she loved me. But more often than not, her fingers do the talking.

Y’know, part of being a good parent is knowing the right plan -- whether you’re talking about scheduling classes, organizing vacations, encouraging good eating habits (FAIL), figuring out the most efficient possible permutation for running the evening activities bus, or choosing between unlimited MINUTES and unlimited TEXTING. Paige asks me every single day, “What’s the plan?” Usually I say “I have no idea”. Because given the radically structured chaos that is Our Life, I don’t always WANT to have a plan. I like reserving at least SOME space for improvisation. 

Improvisation where food is concerned? Oh, absolutely. 

Improvisation on vacations? Not so much. 

Improvisation on calling plans? Not at all necessary.

Hadley told Paige last night that she was VERY happy to have figured out how to do a mass delete of text messages because she had already texted two of her friends over 350 times. Yes, TWO of her friends. Yes, in three days.

Calling plan success? Check.

Helter Skelter

This entry is kinda helter-skelter (hence the title). I’ve been accumulating non-standalone Hadley stories for a couple of weeks and finally have decided to just toss them into a pot here and stir them up and see what happens. If you find any part of them to be entertaining, super. If nothing else, at least I’ll have a permanent record of them. So here goes ...

In a past life, my primary (only) job was as a tennis instructor. This job taught me two things. One, little girls are golden. They do what you say with big, bright, adoring eyes and giggle and jump around and wrap you around their little fingers. Two, little boys are terrors. Based on this information, I decided pretty early on that I wanted to have daughters. I mean seriously ... look at the picture below (from about 2002) and tell me that I could’ve come to any other conclusion. Welllllllll ... now that Hadley is pushing 12, I’m comfortable saying that I’m mighty happy I didn’t have four of them. Why? I’m glad you asked ...

In Hadley’s world (in other words, in our world), there is one right way to do most things. And that is precisely how Hadley wants them done. The problem, more often than not, is figuring out just exactly how Hadley wants things done. There are countless examples. Her “big” (i.e., end-of-the-morning-clues-hidden-all-over-the-house-scavenger-hunt) gift  for Christmas this year was a small box filled with clothes-related gift cards. She was super-excited. Then Paige took her to the mall and after spending two hours at Aeropostale and Justice and wherever else she had bought like one shirt because she just couldn’t find anything else that was “right.” Several things have been acquired since then, but I have no doubt that she still has at least half of the de facto money left. She is not particularly easy to please where stuff like that is concerned.

The annual birthday party extravaganza is another good example. This year, with 12 weeks of attempted advance planning (complete with linear programming models and critical path analysis), we’re still no closer to having things together. And her birthday is Thursday. Yes, two days from now. Granted, part of the problem involves competing schedules of her friends and end-of-season soccer complications, but still ... that’s just an excuse for what probably would be the reality anyway. So at this point we’re still at ... maybe we should do this or have people over for a sleepover on that day or have SOME people over but not others because OMG not everybody gets along anymore and maybe we should eat pizza and go bowling and see a movie and then go ding-dong-ditching or I don’t know maybe we should just hang out at the house and watch movies here and bake cookies and eat junk and go roll somebody and stay up all night or how about we go to the mall and then go get pedicures together but no I don’t think so because that’s what we did last year and what if nobody LIKES what I want to do so maybe I just won’t do anything at all this year because like it is SO HARD!!

Loudsigh .............

Of course what she REALLY wanted to do this year was to rent a limo and go to Houston and play hotel tag. Yes, for her 12th birthday. Can you imagine being this person’s boyfriend? Anyway, this post isn’t specifically about presents or birthdays. It’s just little slices of our reality that will give you some indication of Hadley’s View of the World. I’ll now provide a few examples from this past week that further showcase the Sweetie Princess in action.

A couple nights ago, Reagan was practicing for his Bodega gig. For those of you who don’t know about this, he’s donating all of the proceeds from his May 1 gig to Allyssa for her mission trip to Africa. So come out and see him and support a good cause.  Anyway, Reagan’s PA system is perpetually set up in our piano room / library / living room #2 area and he runs through stuff for about 45 minutes every night. Hadley was sitting in there pretty much rocking out to him last night -- which was sort of  unusual, because she has said in the past that she doesn’t really like his singing that much. She’s entitled to her opinion, of course, but that has always puzzled me a bit because I think he does a solid job (particularly for a high school student) and I most emphatically DO NOT look at his music through rose-colored glasses. I’m as critical of his stuff as I am of my own, and that is saying something. Having seen Hadley seemingly enjoying Reagan’s set, Paige asked her if she did, in fact, like it. Her response was “Yeah ... I like his songs. But he just doesn’t sound right. I mean he doesn’t sound like the Jonas Brothers.”

So apparently there is precisely One Sound that conforms to Hadley’s View of the World and it corresponds to the Jonas Brothers.

On a related note, while we were driving to Conroe for soccer this past weekend I was tormenting Hadley by only occasionally allowing her to listen to Radio Disney. It’s rather a fun game. Not as fun as when Hunter is in the car with us and I’m specifically LETTING her listen to Radio Disney to torment him, mind you, but fun nonetheless. During one of these non-Disney spaces, a cool 80s early alt-punk song by The Violent Femmes came on the First Wave station. Remember? Do ya? 

After about 10 seconds the following conversation ensued:

Hadley: Wow.

Me: What?
Hadley: That guy CANNOT sing.

Me: Yeah, I know ... his voice isn’t great but it’s kind of a cool song.

Hadley: Kind of a WEIRD song.

Me: You don’t like it?

Hadley: He TOTALLY needs some pitch correction software.

Yeah. Totally. 

I mean seriously. Can you imagine how much better Bob Dylan would’ve been if he had just had that too-perfectly-coming-straight-out-of-a-computer sound? I have made the point before that pitch correction software (e.g., Autotune) marks the downfall of Western Society. The proliferation of nuclear weapons or whatever other societal bane you want to pick would run a very distant second in my book. Remember Milli Vanilli? Remember when people got all up in arms when they admitted to lip-syncing ALL of their stuff? There was practically blood in the streets. Now you can’t be a pop sensation without sounding like (rather, BEING) a computer accompanied by infinitely compressed audio that gives the music no space to breathe whatsoever.

Y’know, in my day we had to walk to school in the snow ... uphill ... both ways ... and yes, I most definitely cannot wait to be the old man in the wifebeater and the pants pulled up to his chest who is shaking his fist at the young hooligans who are walking across the corner of his lawn.

Where were we? Oh yeah.

Observation #3 comes from a note that Hadley was supposed to write to apologize for what presumably was “bad behavior” on the bus yesterday. This sorta surprised me because Hadley typically is absolutely terrified of being accused of doing something wrong. Like nervous breakdown and what-will-everybody-think-of-me-if-I-am-that-type-of-person terrified. Last semester she was borderline hysterical because she made a comment about the bus driver while she and Hunter were walking back to the house and she suddenly had the ridiculous idea that maybe the bus driver heard her. Meanwhile the bus driver is 50 yards away. Inside the bus. Driving it. With the motor on. And the door closed.

Whatever the case, here is her actual note:

I don’t deserve to get a referral for “violation of safety rules” because I was not completely out of my seat and I was in my seat for a majority of the time. For “failure to remain seated”, I was in my seat sitting ... it just didn’t look like it at times. And Victoria was doing it too. For “unacceptable language”, what the heck? Caleb was being extremely annoying. I couldn’t help it! (Editor’s Note: She told Caleb to shutup.) For “refusing to obey the bus driver”, I wasn’t refusing to obey the bus driver. I didn’t do anything that bad. That’s kind of like the title of ALL of these excuses. For “other unacceptable behavior”, when I said the “R” word (Editor’s Note: “retard”) I was just telling a good helpful story that my English teacher was telling the class. I was just trying to tell people not to say that word.

Moral of the story? It might be possible for The Sweetie Princess to be wrong / at fault / anything other than dead solid perfect at all times, but the odds of that happening would seem to be rather low. (Editor’s Note: Paige made her re-write the note in an appropriately apologetic tone.)

In closing, I should note that I only feel the freedom to rag on Hadley like this because we have a very, very good relationship. As Main Soccer Driver, I spend a tremendous amount of time with her. She’s super-appreciative of everything I do. Examples? She always wants to know where I want to go eat after games, etc., and she’ll never go somewhere just because she wants to go there. If I’m even lukewarm on it, she’ll pick something else. While she can be mightily hard to please, she thanks me every time I do anything for her -- no matter how small. So what we have going works, and works in a big way. 

Maybe it’s because I almost always bring her something from Jamba Juice or DQ after practice (which makes the other girls think I am just about the coolest dad ever). Or maybe it’s because I never say “no” when she asks me (daily) to please go outside and throw the football with her. Yes, you read that right. Or maybe it’s just because we got super-lucky and just happen to have four kids who all seem to really, really, really like hanging out with us.

I suspect that’s it.

And for that I am muchly grateful.

Oldie But Goodie

A couple of former students asked me yesterday when the next blog post was going to be forthcoming. Apparently tax / school in general is too much for them right now and they’re in desperate need of distractions (the key word being “desperate”). So ... Kory and Kelli, this is for you. How fitting, given the magic that occurred in the top left of the room between you two (and let’s not forget Thomas either ...) last semester.

Anyway, this isn’t a new story. It’s an old one that I was reminded of when I had Hollis with me at Sam’s today. Why? I dunno. Maybe because I hardly ever go to Sam’s and I go even less often with Hollis (or anyone). Whatever the case, a couple of years ago I did, in fact, have Hollis with me at Sam’s. We had finished our shopping and he needed to go to the bathroom, so we stopped in after checking out.

While he was doing his business at the urinal, I noticed that he was rather pre-occupied with a couple of not-ordinarily-easily-accessible parts of his anatomy. Shortly thereafter, the following conversation ensued. I think he was four years old at the time.

Me: Hey bud ... you having a good time there?

Hollis: (looooooooong pause) .... Wow. What ARE these things?

Me: Hmmmmm ... well, Hollis, those are nuts (going with the layman’s definition instead of the biologically sound one).

Hollis: What did you say?

Me: Nuts.

Hollis: (thinking hard for like 15 seconds ... quizzical look) ... Who put them there? Squirrels??

True story.

Lunchtime Chatter

Today Hollis and I went to lunch together after church. He was in rare form. Actually I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this before. I suspect it’s because during our usual family mealtime events, he has no chance. He’s just too small and nowhere near fast / obnoxious enough. When you get him alone and he’s in the right frame of mind, though, he can be pretty entertaining.

(Editor’s Note: Alison is a ridiculously cute / adorable / absolutely fantastic little girl who was in Hollis’ Kindergarten class and who is also in his First Grade class.)

Hollis: I like Alison.

Me: Duh. What six year-old WOULDN’T like Alison. Why do you like her?

Hollis: She’s preeeeeeeeeeetty .... pause .... And she has BLONDE HAIR!!! And she talks a lot!

Me: Are you gonna marry her?

Hollis: I don’t know.

Me: Can she cook? What if she can’t cook?

Hollis: I don’t care. We can eat pizza every day. (Editor’s Note: This is not too far from how things operate at our house, since Dad is the cook -- when anybody cooks, which isn’t that often -- and pizza is eaten at least twice a week.)

Me: Good point.

Hollis: I hope the Easter Bunny does a better job of hiding eggs than the people at church did yesterday.

Me: ..... ????? OK ... yeah, I suspect he/she will. You didn’t much like how they were just put out there in the hallways, huh?

Hollis: No. That was lame. I think the Easter Bunny probably is more like in Stealth Mode.

Me: Stealth Mode?

Hollis: Yeah, like you know those Army airplanes that fly around like this (insert what presumably is the Universal Two-Handed Signal for Stealth Mode Flying).

Me: Oh yeah.

Hollis: Close your eyes.

Me: What?

Hollis: Close ... your ... eyes.

Me: OK, fine ... (sitting there with eyes closed for 5-6 seconds)

Hollis: See, that was me in Stealth Mode.

Me: Cool.

Hollis: Imagine if you had a house where nobody hugged each other for a whole year.

Me: ..... ????? ... um, OK.

Hollis: That would be weird, huh?

Me: Yeah I guess it would.

Hollis: Like that would be sorta how it is with Reagan. Reagan doesn’t really hug many people.

Me: Yeah, well Reagan is a super-nice guy but he’s not really a hugger.

Hollis: Or maybe people just don’t want to hug Reagan.

Me: Why?

Hollis: You know. His socks. I can smell them all the way down the hall in my room.

Me: (laughing) ... Good point.

Hollis: They’re totally disgusting. Like they could scare off skunks.

Me: Do you think they could put Alison in Stealth Mode?

Hollis: No. Nothing is that powerful. 

Me: Seriously?

Hollis: Yeah. Alison’s mom said she couldn’t win the Quiet Game if it just lasted three seconds.

Consider this the first entry in the Wedding Album ...