Go Amanda! It's Your Birthday!

I had to go in and edit that little bit of script at the top of this page today. You know, the description of what Snarkfest is all about. I had to change it from 18 & 15 to 18 & 16. Why? Because my baby girl, my youngest daughter turned Sweet Sixteen today. How is it even REMOTELY possible that I have a daughter in college AND a baby who is 16?

It was just last month that I was dropping her off at Pre-K and she held a death-grip on my leg.

It was just the other day that she walked onto the soccer field for the first time and just stood there.

It was later that same afternoon that she was in goal and LOVED it.

It was last weekend that she picked up a volleyball and realized that she is a pretty damned good volleyball player.

It was just yesterday that she learned to play the alto sax and kicked ass in the Marching Band, Symphonic Band and Jazz Band.

It was only this morning that she won the Knights of Columbus Foul Shooting competition for her age group. In the entire state of WV!

It seems like only a moment ago she was my little baby. And now, she's 16 years old. Driving. playing in the band, playing on the volleyball team, fitting 4H meetings into her already crazy busy schedule. And yet, she still holds my hand, still hugs and kisses me goodnight every night.

Happy Birthday, baby girl I love you to the moon and back.

And then, I got locked out of my house...

The past few days have been rough at Casa Snarkfest. School issues have taken over our lives and needed to be handled delicately. Add to that the fact that I haven't been feeling well and my husband's been staying later at work so that 16 can pick him up from the train station after she's finished her evening school-related activities and it makes for just an ugly week. Saves us on gas money because we don't have to make the extra train-station trip. But all in all, an ugly week.

I left work a little early yesterday because I was scheduled to work in concessions for a middle school football game that ended up being cancelled. So instead, I hung out and watched the marching band practice (they are freaking AWESOME, by the way) until it was time to pick up 14 from volleyball practice. We drove home, I threw dinner together and we chowed down.

The phone rang around 6:45 and it was an important call I had been expecting. 16 and 14 were watching TV (loudly) and the dogs were barking at a vicious and deadly blade of grass or something in the front yard, so I went out back to take the call. The call lasted for about 30 minutes, and during that time, 14 popped her head out of the sliding door to tell me that they were going to pick up Dad. I half listened, still very much invested in the phone call.

There were lots of mosquitoes out back last night and I was walking around the patio trying to avoid being eaten while on the phone, and when I hung up I went to open the sliding door. Unsuccessfully. We've taught our girls a lot of good habits, and locking the sliding door is one of them. Except when I'm outside being eaten alive by mosquitoes. After several unsuccessful attempts at knocking (during which time the dogs, currently INSIDE the house, barked at my knocking, as if they didn't realize that it was ME knocking on the door, despite the fact that they WATCHED ME KNOCK as they were inside and I was outside. Dumbasses) I gave up and called 14.

The conversation went something like this:

Ring ring....

14: "Hello?"
Me: "Are you inside the house? Because I've been knocking..."
14: "No, we told you, we went to pick up Dad."
Me: "Well you LOCKED ME OUT OF THE HOUSE!!"
14: "Oh gosh, mom! I am so sorry!!"
Me: "............"

Lucky for me, our neighbor, the NaziWhackJobRunningCrackHo has a spare key to our house. I stomped over, still talking to myself about being locked out of my own house, used her combination lock on her house to get in (I gotta get me one of those) and found my house key. I let myself into my own house with my dogs still barking at me (man they're cute but they're awfully stupid) and quickly ran up and put some Benadryl cream on the 36,794 mosquito bites I received while locked out of my house.

And how was YOUR night?

Judgin' Like Judy...

I must make a confession to you 6 fans of Snarkfest right now. I am a judgey mom. A Judgey-McJudgersen, if you will. I joked with a fellow band parent this weekend that while others may try to see the reason behind the decisions people make (or don't make), I very rarely give ANYONE the benefit of the doubt. So I tend to be judgin' like Judy. Judge Judy, for those of you who are scratching your head and wondering. NOT Judy Blume. NOT Judy Garland. Judge Judy. I'm pretty close to being one of the most judgmental people ever.

I will admit, it's not a very nice trait. I wish I COULD be more open-minded and understanding. But I tend to judge first and ask questions.....never.

I read this post from my friend Christine over at Keeper of the Fruit Loops and applauded her for putting up her volunteer pledge. And it got me to thinking. I'm a volunteer. Scratch that, I'm actually an OVER-volunteer-er. It's a thing, I swear. I'm a judgmental over-volunteer-er. I go to meetings and everything! And I usually volunteer to bring snacks.

But when it comes to parents who volunteer for NOTHING, I judge. I judge very harshly. Put it to you this way: 172 kids in the high school band this year. 2 of them are mine. I volunteer as the band booster Vice-President, I volunteer to chaperone trips, I volunteer to work in the concession stand during Friday night football games. I spend one night each summer at band camp and then help out in the kitchen the following morning serving breakfast (remember the Egg Nazi?).  You get the idea. I'm involved.  And I'm of the mindset that if you have a child involved in an activity, you, too, should be involved. But sadly, those of us with kids in the band see the same parents over and over. We work with the same group of parents every Friday in the concession stand, we see the same parents chaperoning band trips, the same parents volunteer at band camp, the same parents come to the monthly booster meetings. 172 band kids. Less than 50 involved band parents. Hashtag frustrating! (did I do that right?)

Last week I attended the parents meeting for 14's high school volleyball team. The team mom that they've had for a few years had recently taken on a new job and needed to be LESS involved. I totally get that. Working full time and having other kids at home, I TOTALLY get that some parents need to back off a little from volunteering. But that's when I feel that it's the responsibility of other parents to step up. Other parents who aren't ME. 14 turned to me and mouthed "You should be team mom!!!" "You should stop talking!" I mouthed back with a smile. No way. There's no way I can take on another responsibility. Not when there are 25 other sets of parents who are more than capable of taking over as team parent. I signed up to work the volleyball concessions stand, to bring snacks to games and to donate food to the stand to sell. But I have to draw the line at taking on being 'Team Mom'. Let someone else do it.

And that's the problem. More and more people are saying 'Let someone else do it' and less and less people actually ARE. And I don't look at the reason behind this lack of stepping up. I just judge. I'm jaded. I judge the parents who show up to football games with their spouse who think they're doing their part by buying some popcorn and a soda. Hey, Sparky, how about coming in so that one of US can go watch our kids perform in the halftime show?

That's my problem. There may be a very good reason WHY some folks can't volunteer to help out. But I'm so jaded by lazy-ass parents who aren't motivated to lift a finger to help out, that I lump ALL parents who don't help out together into one big cluster of lazy. It's something that I need to work on. Someday, when I see lots of different faces stepping up to the plate, maybe then I won't be so quick to judge. But for now, I will accept that I'm judgin' like Judy and then I'll go bake some brownies for the volleyball team's car wash this weekend (which I will, of course, be working).

Overlooking Those We Love, Those Who Need Our Love

This isn't a typical "I'm thankful" post. No, today I am feeling very very sad. The religious like to say that God does not give us more than we can handle. I've never subscribed to that point of view, and if you do, more power to you, I'm not doubting your beliefs. I'm just saying that when I was growing up, there were times when we thought, "Hey, God, could you focus on someone else for just a little while? We're gonna have to open a window pretty soon."  But that was then and this is now, and now I'm a grown up and have lots of things to be thankful for, grateful for, and to worry about.

Life has thrown us a few curve balls over the course of the past week. Currently, we are down to one car. The car that is no longer with us saved my husband's life. There is no doubt in my mind that if he was driving our Saturn, this would be a totally different blog post. Then there is 16, who has had a fever since Friday. Doctor says it's the flu and naturally she's gotta ride it out with fluids and Ibuprofen.  And there's Thanksgiving! Who could forget Thanksgiving? I'm cooking for 10! The house needs to be cleaned, the tables need to be moved, the bedding all needs to be washed and redone. Lots going on.

Which is why I feel absolutely horrible about what transpired right under my nose and I had no clue. My beautiful 14 was supposed to play volleyball this winter with the club in which she played last year. She even received an email from the team this past Sunday (when she was out helping me with Thanksgiving grocery shopping) stating that the first team meeting would be on the same night as one of her basketball games. We laughed about it and I told her we'd figure something out. And then I forgot about it because I had to get gas and go home and make dinner and blah blah blah.....

Yesterday, 14 forwarded an email to me. I had taken the day off from work to take 16 to the doctor and then to go empty out the remains of the car that saved hubby's life. I assumed that the email was the same email that 14 had received on Sunday about the team meeting. I ignored it. I've been bitching and whining about the house and no one helping me clean. And I still hadn't checked the email.

Until now. Let me make one thing perfectly clear: 14 LOVES VOLLEYBALL. And she's pretty damn good at it too. She picked up a volleyball in 6th grade for probably the first time at tryouts. And she was good enough to be put on JV AND Varsity. She's good. No kidding. And she LOVES the game. She eats it, sleeps it and breathes it. Are you getting the picture? Good.

So I finally got around to reading the email that she forwarded to me. And my heart sank. The coach had emailed her, apologizing profusely. There wasn't enough interest, they didn't have enough girls to field a team for U15, she was not eligible to play U14. My girl sat on this information and never said anything to be because of all that has been going on around her. She kept this inside. And I know she is brokenhearted about it. The coach did make her a pretty cool offer to help as a volunteer assistant coach for younger girls. She'd get to help them at practices, but it wouldn't be the same for her. She wants to play.  And the coach paid her a very high complement, saying that 14 "is a good person with very high character for only being 14, and is a great role model for young girls just starting out." But still, she doesn't get to play. And she never told me, because of everything else that's going on in our lives at this moment. Her dad. Her sister who's sick. Thanksgiving.

The coach was right, she IS a good person, she DOES have very high character, she IS a great role model to younger girls. But she's also selfless, kind, caring, compassionate, smart, funny, sarcastic, energetic, athletic, beautiful, witty, confident and amazing. I'm so proud to be her mother that sometimes my heart feels like it will explode with pride.

And so, to my baby girl, I'm so sorry that we've overlooked your needs this week. I promise I will try very hard to be aware of your needs and I promise that if you send me an email, I WILL READ IT.

If you ask me what I'm thankful for, right at this moment, I'd tell you I'm thankful for the following:

The restraint system on the Chevy Equinox
The warmth, health and love of my family
The generosity and love of my friends
The patience and love of my daughters
The love of my husband, who I hope will be around for many many more years

Tuesday Tirade.....GPS and Twin Oaks Restaurant

Hey Snarklings! Over the weekend 13 and I traveled with her volleyball team to a tournament in Clarksburg, WV. It was a nice drive over beautiful mountain roads with a fun group of parents and players, however, my GPS hates my guts and took me on a journey that I don't think Stephen King himself could've thought up. The hotel was off of I-79 on Tolley Road. Apparently there are 2 Tolley Roads in that area. My husband and I have a joke that when there is a 50-50 chance of getting something right, 90% of the time, I'll pick the wrong answer. In this case, my GPS was 50-50-90.  "Exit now, and make a left onto Joy Rd." it said.

"Are you sure?" I questioned, "Because that's not looking like much of a road."

"Trust me" said my GPS. I swear I could hear a faint snicker. I turned left onto Joy Rd. and almost immediately regretted that decision. It was a one lane dirt road and I drove about 50 feet when I was met with an SUV coming the opposite way. On a one lane dirt road. I pulled to the side to let him pass and almost went off the cliff.

"Drive 2 miles, then turn left onto Tolley Rd." my GPS instructed.

"Really? Because I've been on Joy Rd for 12 seconds and just almost died." I argued.

"Just dooooooo it." My GPS whispered. I did as I was told and traveled for 2 miles up a dark, twisty, scary road, taking my life in my hands, when at last I came upon Tolley Rd.  The clouds parted, the sky turned blue, angels sang as I turned left, as instructed, onto Tolley Rd.

"Drive .7 miles, end at Days Inn on right" said my GPS, as if he had led me to the promised land, after 40 years in the desert.  I drove .7 miles and then I heard banjos. No Days Inn, no promised land, only banjos. Dear God, the banjos.

Thankfully, a nice farmer got off his plow, put down his banjo and came to my rescue. Apparently, there are two Tolley Roads in that area and my GPS did the old 50-50-90 (bastard). The farmer gave me the proper directions and sent us on our way, safely, with no one asking me to squeal like a pig.

We arrived at the hotel (20 minutes later than everyone else, thanks GPS) and put our things in our room. The girls went to hit the volleyball around for a bit while the coach and parents decided on where to go for dinner. Our coach is from that area and she said someone had recommended we eat at the Twin Oaks Restaurant.  We had a rather large group, 17 in all, so she called ahead to make sure they had room.

The person who answered the phone could NOT have been anymore rude if he tried. When the coach said there were 17 of us, she was told we could not go there for dinner. 'We don't have room.' She asked if we could maybe go a bit later, perhaps they could put some tables together if given enough time, and the answer she received was "No, we don't want you here."

Photo courtesy: monkeyworlds.com

It's not like we were taking a group of  howler monkeys to eat, we had 8 girls and 9 parents, all over the age of 13, all pretty much potty trained, yet we were told in no uncertain terms. "We don't want you here." So I decided to do the right thing, and tell every one I know how wonderful I thought that was. Great decision on the part of the person who answered the phone.

The power of the internet is unbelievable. One bad review, one bad word can lead to more bad reviews, which leads to a drop in business. I'm not saying I hold the power to make or break a business, but I am snarky and bitchy and am not afraid of telling it like it is. So if you are ever in the area of Bridgeport or Clarksburg, WV and you're looking for an amazing meal, go to Oliverio's, the restaurant who was more than helpful in accommodating a group of 17 as soon as we called, and who provided outstanding service and incredible food to us. If you're looking for a shit hole with awful customer service and poor reviews, go to Twin Oaks. Tell 'em Snarky sent ya.