11 posts tagged “felony”

Sorry about last night. I actually did get up, believe it or not, and worked on that child's speech until 4 a.m. Which is crazy, of course. And wrong. I do realize this. But it was only a draft. She'll have to write the final draft herself. 

The girls brought home their school newspaper the other day. They wanted to show me all the errors they caught (some of which were not errors, though there were plenty to go around). One they missed caught my attention particularly. The words "Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them" were attributed to Theodore Roosevelt. Well, Teddy might well have said it--hell, I've said it myself--but the speech properly belongs to William Shakespeare's Malvolio, he of the yellow stockings, who appears in Twelfth Night. I actually took the kids to see this play a couple of months ago, but apparently they are not yet memorizing the lines. Twelfth Night is a great favorite of mine.

I will not tell you what I am feeling. I will only tell you what is going on outside myself.

Beside me, Jinx is sleeping. It is my bed but he sleeps in it almost every night. He is lying on the white sheet that is forever coming off the mattress. Often I ask one of the kids to fix it so I won't have to climb around on the bed. I try not to pick the same kid every time. The bed is in a corner, and therefore sits against the wall on two sides, which makes it more difficult to fix the sheet. No one likes to fix the sheet. We all complain about it. I know there is a gadget I could buy, made of tension clips and elastic, that attaches to the corners of the sheets and pulls them together underneath the mattress. Unfortunately, I never think of this gadget except when I am fixing the sheet.

Jinx has no top sheet over him, much less a blanket. He isn't wearing a shirt, either, so his shoulders are pulling together and his arms are hugging his chest, to conserve heat. Since I am his mother, I will put a blanket over him now.

I would probably do it even if he were not my child. I don't like to be cold myself. Not even a little, especially when I'm sleeping. But it is July in California in the first decade of the twenty-first century, common era, and he is inside, which means he is not truly cold. He will be fine. He will have no trouble sleeping tonight.

I put a soft blanket over him. I like this blanket because it is soft, not too heavy, and because the color of it is also soft; a pale blue-green.

Jinx's hair looks dirty. He was at the county fair for several hours with my niece, Bambi, and her boys. Also Diane, Damien, and his family. I couldn't take the girls because I couldn't afford it. Duff couldn't afford it, either, though he spent some time going through his wallet, pulling out old gift cards and the like. He even found a one-hundred dollar Visa debit card. He said he got it from a vendor at a convention in Las Vegas. It sounded unethical to me, and also expensive for the vendor, passing out hundred-dollar gift cards.

Bambi paid for Jinx to go (I plan to pay her back later, and I will pay her back, assuming I don't forget entirely, which is always a strong possibility) but she couldn't afford to pay for the girls. She felt guilty about it. She asked me to remind them that they will be going on a girls' night out soon. She said, "Tell them I never take Jinx anywhere."

(Is it just me, or is this pure description stuff boring? Maybe I'm just boring. Whatever, keep going. Just keep it up.)

While Jinx was at the fair, the girls and I watched several episodes from the first season of Ugly Betty. We don't have cable television, and even when we do, we don't watch a lot of TV, so we have missed all the shows other people have been watching for years. But sometimes I pick up a secondhand DVD set at the book sale for a few dollars, which is how I got this one. I think I paid $3.50 for it. I also got Joan of Arcadia for $3.

Trying to keep the ants at bay, I sprayed the baseboards in the bathroom this afternoon. Did the kitchen yesterday; a very fussy operation but so far, so good. When the helpful hardware guy recommended this particular "barrier" spray, I was skeptical. But also desperate. None of us mind spiders much, but ants we cannot abide. Felony especially, because once, when she was six or seven or eight years old, she climbed the oak tree in our back yard while a colony of ants happened to be climbing it, too. Within minutes she was covered in ants. If I remember right, she started to scream. She was terrified and irrational and so far up the tree that it was difficult to get her down. To get the ants off, I did the only thing I could think of, which was to put her in the shower.

My throat is a little sore. Felony has been complaining of a sore throat the last couple of days. Before that, it was Jinx. Criminy never seems to get these things.

Criminy asked me to make an Etsy account so she can sell the things she makes. There is always yarn everywhere. On the front porch, there is yarn knotted around the arms of the chairs because the girls tied sheets to them last weekend (was it only last weekend?) to make a tent. They slept under it. My two girls and their friend Astrid.

I have to stop. I'm tired. But first I will make sure the front door is locked. Earlier today, someone opened the front door and quickly shut it again. We have no idea who it was. I didn't investigate because at the time I was only wearing a tank top and underwear. But it was definitely creepy. It's actually the second time this has happened. I'm not sure what people think is up here, but whatever it is, it's not here.

Never say never, I know. But today I told myself I never want to go to the movies again. I whispered it to myself in the echoing halls of my tiny little brain because I'm not sure I can stick to it. But I was angry after the security matron wouldn't allow Felony to bring her lunch leftovers into the theater, even though they were packed and bagged up. We had just come from lunch, we're in the mall, and who the hell is going to try to eat Chinese food in the movie theater, anyway? I mean, come on. I don't know about where you live, but around here, people smuggle in vast quantities of soda and candy in their bags, jackets, whatever. And nobody at the theater ever says anything about it, because it would take too long to frisk everybody walking in and they're afraid to get into an altercation. Believe me, I know, because I have been that person. I can't even count the number of times I've walked into a movie theater loaded down like a dwarf coming home from the mines, my purse bulging with the telltale rings of soda cans. But if a little girl comes along to the matinee and is honest about having a doggie bag, she gets treated like a three-time felon. I understand. It's not that they object to people eating, it's only that they want us to eat their insanely overpriced food. They keep telling us that despite charging ten bucks for a movie ticket, they don't make any money off us. The poor movie theaters barely break even; the only money they make comes from the concession sales. We're supposed to feel sorry for them and just buy a ten-dollar bucket of popcorn, or a seventeen-dollar combo of popcorn and a soda, and pretend like that's just dandy. Consider it a charitable donation to a good cause.

Well, fine. I get it. It's their business, and they get to make the rules. And if I don't like it, I don't have to go. And that feels just about right to me. I will rent movies instead and if that becomes onerous then I will just stop watching them altogether, because frankly, I can live without the damn movies. They're not all that great.

I won't be going off the grid because I don't know how to transform myself into Lady Generator dans la Cellar du Tack Biscuit. But I think I can keep one foot on the grid and the other foot on the ground. I want to stop hemorrhaging money and I want to stop immediately. Giving up the movies seems like a good way to start.

Felony told me the science teacher asked her if she and Criminy were twins. He noticed Criminy's birthday crown but hadn't seen one on Felony (she had it in her backpack).

"He says when we study generics, we'll learn about twins," she said.

"Genetics," I said.

"Whatever."

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Felony was very proud of herself. She couldn't wait to tell me the story. In gym class, they had to run with a partner. Felony's partner was a friend, a big girl named Rondele. "She's huge," Criminy said. "Way taller than me, even."  Rondele had one more lap to do; she needed the extra credit. Felony said, "Come on, I'll run it with you and we'll both get extra credit." Another girl, Leisha, came too, and the girls encouraged Rondele to keep going. The P.E. teacher noticed and after they were through running, he pulled Felony and Leisha aside, praised them for being so supportive, and gave them each two "courtesy coupons," which are basically raffle tickets for Jamba Juice gift cards and things like that.

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Today I bought Felony a new pair of pointe shoes, a pair of canvas ballet slippers, and a leotard for $125. I hope everybody still likes macaroni and cheese.

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I talked the girls into trying out for the volleyball team. They don't have time to be on a volleyball team, what with soccer and dance classes; but I thought it would be a good way to learn how to play. The way I see it, it costs $5 for four hours of volleyball instruction. That's considerably cheaper than a sports camp. But I forgot to factor in the irritation they would feel when they didn't make the team. The indignation and embarrassment that come from knowing that all the other girls know you didn't make it. I feel bad about that.

But I still want them to try out for basketball. Also track in the spring.

On Friday I started a strength-training program. I already had the paraphernalia, have had it for at least a year (maybe two). I just had to find the damn book with the pictures in it. Since I'm doing it every other day for the first week, I did it again on Sunday. Then today I walked the circumference of the community park with Felony, which takes about twenty minutes.

It doesn't sound like much, does it? But I tell you, I'm dead on my feet here. Can't keep my eyes open. I actually laid my head on the table after I finished dinner, which is not something I typically do. It's a contradiction I always notice when I'm trying to become more active: All these things I do to give myself more energy actually sap my small supply for weeks.

I've also lost about fifteen pounds since my last episode of scale shock. Which is a relief, even if it doesn't show, because it means I don't have to buy new pants. I really wasn't thrilled with the idea of buying larger pants.

I remember being at a mall, many years ago, and seeing a store called "House of Large Sizes." It was a chain; I don't know if they still exist. Certainly it seems that the humiliation approach isn't as popular in retail as it used to be. Now the philosophy seems to be that it is more remunerative to embrace difference. Hear, hear!

The last thing I expected to see when I went to the hospital today was my mother, but that is what I saw. I took three steps into the ICU and I saw her, sitting up in a chair, and most remarkable of all, her eyes were open. All the way from the nurse's station I could see my mother's dark brown eyes.

Viv and Lorraine were there, having driven in from Reno for the second time in two weeks. Viv is my mother's best friend of more than fifty years; Lorraine is her daughter. My sister was there, too, and she told me to come in, even though I had Felony with me and there is a rule against more than two visitors at a time.

"They don't care," Diane said. "They're glad we're here, they told us, because we can watch her and make sure she doesn't pull any of her tubes out."

When I stepped into the room, she saw me, but I couldn't tell if she really recognized me. I try not to get my hopes up. Expect the worst, I always say, and you're never disappointed. Some part of me wanted to blurt out, "Is it really you?" but I managed to say something less accusatory. Then Felony stepped up to the chair and said shyly, "Hi, Nana," and my mother, forced to wear wrist restraints that were tied to the chair, leaned forward and rested her head against Felony's belly and closed her eyes.

"She's giving you a hug," Viv said in her soft voice.

Felony bent down and slowly, gingerly, so as not to disturb any of the tubes or wires, put her arms around her Nana and rested her cheek on my mother's head. It was the sweetest thing I've seen in a long time.

I excused myself and hurried to the waiting room to hustle the other two kids back to the ICU. The other night I saw a nurse giving a big boy of eleven and three-quarters a hard time. But now all the nurses seemed to have their backs discreetly turned as I smuggled in Jinx, who is not even close to twelve. So all three of the kids got to give Nana a hug and a kiss and to know that she knew they were giving it.

I take very seriously my obligation to uplift my issue in all their childish endeavors. Here's an opportunity to catch me being my super-supportive maternal self: