Monday
Jun022008
CAMP MOMMY 2008 - A Not-So-Great Day
Monday, June 2, 2008 at 04:56PM
With CAMP MOMMY, there are some perfect moments, lots of great days, many good days and, every once in a while, a not-so-good day.
Today was a not-so-good day, although I think it might be because we're all still tired from a really great weekend, so that made today an inevitable challenge. We should probably have never left the property. Silly me.
By lunchtime, the foraging began in earnest. Since we were gone all weekend, we didn't have much in the kitchen, so we decided to go out for lunch and an afternoon adventure. We went to Mellow Mushroom for pizza ("water for everybody, please") and played cards during the wait. So far, so good.
The kids had a GREAT time fishing this weekend, while we were camping, so we decided to take the new fishing poles to Piedmont Park for some fishing from the gazebo on Lake Clara Meer. I took a blanket and a book. (I am trying to get through Zen & The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig for my offline book group meeting next week.)(After struggling with this book for two weeks, I ordered the Guide to Zen & The Art of Motorcyle Maintenance this morning. It will be here Wednesday.) It actually doesn't matter, since I didn't even get to open the book.
I got the kids set up with their fishing poles on the bridge. I went to sit on a bench nearby in the shade, but got chased away by a homeless guy, ranting and raving in the bushes. I think he was collecting wood to make a fire in a barbecue grill, but he was very aggressive and loud about it. Rather than disturb him, I went back to the kids on the bridge. Seconds later, we were accosted by a random TV news reporter-girl and her cameraman. They wanted an on-camera interview with Moms in the park about parenting and kids. Okay. At this point, I was still the Perfect Mom, so we did the interview and they took some film of the kids fishing. 13yo Puberty Angst Boy caught a fish! Yay. I think it was for the local CBS Affiliate, but I didn't catch all the info for what they were working on.
By this time, 7yo ADHD Phenom had disappeared, to the playground on the other side of the bridge, safely on the opposite side from the frenzied homeless guy. I went to check on him (the kid, not the homeless guy), and was just settling in on the blanket with my book, in view of the fishing kids and the playground kid, when playground kid decided to go back to fishing. The only problem, of which I had not been aware, was that one of the fishing poles had already been broken, apparently in a car door incident between 7yo ADHD Phenom (AP) and 10yo Drama Queen (DQ). DQ was using AP's fishing pole, and AP wanted it back.
That is exactly the point at which it all went downhill. Fast.
I tried to fix the broken pole, or at least make it use-able, with the half of the pole still attached to the reel, reasoning, "You guys were fishing with sticks and fishing line last week -- this is still way better than that!" Nothing doing. AP wanted nothing to do with DQ's broken pole, he wanted his back. DQ contended (loudly) that AP broke her pole in the car door, so she should get to use his; or break his, like he broke hers -- "DON'T YOU DARE!"
By this time, the bum fishing-guys on the other side of the gazebo were watching the action intently. I think they were placing bets. While I'm trying to negotiate with the two kids battling over the broken fishing pole in classic he-said/she-said/I DON'T CARE, STOP IT fashion, 13yo Puberty Angst Boy (to his credit) quietly continued fishing, subtly edging further and further away from the crazy woman and her two fighting kids.
SNAP! Suddenly, the fishing pole I was working on, trying to salvage at least half of it, exploded, with the reel falling all apart and fishing line sailing out in all directions like a netgun, which, in retrospect, was pretty freaking cool. At that moment, though, I was OVER it. I grabbed everything I could, hissed out, "Time to go!" and started off, just as one of the kids spotted a mother duck and about a dozen baby ducklings swimming under the bridge toward the gazebo.
Like that would suddenly make everything all better. They had me for a quick-minute -- the ducklings were impossibly adorable, all cute and sweet; half were bright yellow, like little Easter chicks; the other half were light brown with white spots. They were all swimming in formation with their mother. None of them were fighting, throwing tantrums or making the mother-duck look like a frazzled, looney mess...
While I was watching the baby ducks, trying to breathe in the Now and calm down, PLOP!
A baited hook landed in the water near the baby ducks. 7yo ADHD Phenom, my kid, had just cast the fishing line right near the cute little ducks. I grabbed him, grabbed the fishing pole and frantically hand-pulled the line back in as fast as I could, before any of those stupid baby ducks got caught on the hook.
It would have been perfect if the news reporter-girl had come back across the bridge just then, but, thankfully, she was nowhere in sight as we made our inglorious trudge back to the car, with two kids still bickering and whining; their frazzled, looney mess of a mother stomping along behind, carrying everything, ranting at them and 13yo Puberty Angst Boy sauntering far enough along behind us so as not to be mistaken as part of the group. I think the bum fishing-guys called out some helpful parenting advice as we were leaving...
Maybe the frenzied homeless guy wasn't really crazy. Maybe he wasn't really homeless at all, but a work-at-home father with a bunch of kids home for the summer -- it's a fine line, isn't it?
Today was a not-so-good day, although I think it might be because we're all still tired from a really great weekend, so that made today an inevitable challenge. We should probably have never left the property. Silly me.
By lunchtime, the foraging began in earnest. Since we were gone all weekend, we didn't have much in the kitchen, so we decided to go out for lunch and an afternoon adventure. We went to Mellow Mushroom for pizza ("water for everybody, please") and played cards during the wait. So far, so good.
The kids had a GREAT time fishing this weekend, while we were camping, so we decided to take the new fishing poles to Piedmont Park for some fishing from the gazebo on Lake Clara Meer. I took a blanket and a book. (I am trying to get through Zen & The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig for my offline book group meeting next week.)(After struggling with this book for two weeks, I ordered the Guide to Zen & The Art of Motorcyle Maintenance this morning. It will be here Wednesday.) It actually doesn't matter, since I didn't even get to open the book.
I got the kids set up with their fishing poles on the bridge. I went to sit on a bench nearby in the shade, but got chased away by a homeless guy, ranting and raving in the bushes. I think he was collecting wood to make a fire in a barbecue grill, but he was very aggressive and loud about it. Rather than disturb him, I went back to the kids on the bridge. Seconds later, we were accosted by a random TV news reporter-girl and her cameraman. They wanted an on-camera interview with Moms in the park about parenting and kids. Okay. At this point, I was still the Perfect Mom, so we did the interview and they took some film of the kids fishing. 13yo Puberty Angst Boy caught a fish! Yay. I think it was for the local CBS Affiliate, but I didn't catch all the info for what they were working on.
By this time, 7yo ADHD Phenom had disappeared, to the playground on the other side of the bridge, safely on the opposite side from the frenzied homeless guy. I went to check on him (the kid, not the homeless guy), and was just settling in on the blanket with my book, in view of the fishing kids and the playground kid, when playground kid decided to go back to fishing. The only problem, of which I had not been aware, was that one of the fishing poles had already been broken, apparently in a car door incident between 7yo ADHD Phenom (AP) and 10yo Drama Queen (DQ). DQ was using AP's fishing pole, and AP wanted it back.
That is exactly the point at which it all went downhill. Fast.
I tried to fix the broken pole, or at least make it use-able, with the half of the pole still attached to the reel, reasoning, "You guys were fishing with sticks and fishing line last week -- this is still way better than that!" Nothing doing. AP wanted nothing to do with DQ's broken pole, he wanted his back. DQ contended (loudly) that AP broke her pole in the car door, so she should get to use his; or break his, like he broke hers -- "DON'T YOU DARE!"
By this time, the bum fishing-guys on the other side of the gazebo were watching the action intently. I think they were placing bets. While I'm trying to negotiate with the two kids battling over the broken fishing pole in classic he-said/she-said/I DON'T CARE, STOP IT fashion, 13yo Puberty Angst Boy (to his credit) quietly continued fishing, subtly edging further and further away from the crazy woman and her two fighting kids.
SNAP! Suddenly, the fishing pole I was working on, trying to salvage at least half of it, exploded, with the reel falling all apart and fishing line sailing out in all directions like a netgun, which, in retrospect, was pretty freaking cool. At that moment, though, I was OVER it. I grabbed everything I could, hissed out, "Time to go!" and started off, just as one of the kids spotted a mother duck and about a dozen baby ducklings swimming under the bridge toward the gazebo.
Like that would suddenly make everything all better. They had me for a quick-minute -- the ducklings were impossibly adorable, all cute and sweet; half were bright yellow, like little Easter chicks; the other half were light brown with white spots. They were all swimming in formation with their mother. None of them were fighting, throwing tantrums or making the mother-duck look like a frazzled, looney mess...
While I was watching the baby ducks, trying to breathe in the Now and calm down, PLOP!
A baited hook landed in the water near the baby ducks. 7yo ADHD Phenom, my kid, had just cast the fishing line right near the cute little ducks. I grabbed him, grabbed the fishing pole and frantically hand-pulled the line back in as fast as I could, before any of those stupid baby ducks got caught on the hook.
It would have been perfect if the news reporter-girl had come back across the bridge just then, but, thankfully, she was nowhere in sight as we made our inglorious trudge back to the car, with two kids still bickering and whining; their frazzled, looney mess of a mother stomping along behind, carrying everything, ranting at them and 13yo Puberty Angst Boy sauntering far enough along behind us so as not to be mistaken as part of the group. I think the bum fishing-guys called out some helpful parenting advice as we were leaving...
Maybe the frenzied homeless guy wasn't really crazy. Maybe he wasn't really homeless at all, but a work-at-home father with a bunch of kids home for the summer -- it's a fine line, isn't it?
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