The School Board Is Not Listening

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I spend a lot of time venting to my husband (bless him for listening) about articles in the newspaper, particularly those related to our public schools. Occasionally, I also vent to all of you. But here's the excerpt from this article published yesterday that finally got me to send a letter to the editor last night:

Kathleen Brennan, a Cary parent, said that while some parents won't get what they want, at least they're being heard now. Brennan is a co-founder of Wake CARES, a parent group that sued Wake over mandatory year-round schools.

After the N.C. Supreme Court ruled last year that Wake didn't need parental permission to send students to year-round schools, Wake CARES worked with other groups, such as the Wake County Republican Party, to elect new school board members.

"Parents are speaking out that they're dissatisfied, and the school board has given them a voice," Brennan said.

The good news for those of you tired of listening to my long-winded rants is that the word limit for letters to the editor is 200 words. So I'll refrain from lounging around on my blog soapbox and just give you the letter I sent to The News & Observer last night:

Kathleen Brennan (Wake CARES) says that while some parents won't get what they want in school options, the school board is listening and giving them a voice.

It's ironic she believed the former board didn't hear parents because board members didn't vote to end assignments to year-round schools. Now that the board majority is on her “side,” she assumes they are listening to all parents.

Yet the board is NOT listening to me, the parent of a rising kindergartner. The parent survey regarding year-round schools won't come to me, although my base school is year-round. The survey also won't come to my neighbors because they aren't parents, even though their tax dollars support and build schools in Wake County.

The board majority acts as if they are accountable only to those who voted for them – less than 4 percent of the county's eligible voters. I hope these board members will listen to all the voices in Wake County, not only those who agree with them. If they don't, they will renege on campaign promises of being responsive to parents – and they will do great harm to our schools and community in the process.

* * *

If you are also frustrated by the recent actions of the Wake County Board of Education, I urge you to write to the board and send letters to the editor -- don't just sit around and complain to your spouse. If the school board only hears from the people who are pleased, they'll assume that everyone is equally happy with their actions.

Bad Omen? Or Nowhere to Go But Up?

My husband likes to say that, when I met him, I'd had the longest winning streak of anyone he knew. That may have been true (I found him, didn't I?), but I've also had some jarring losing streaks (like mono at age 30 that knocked me out of work for a month) to break up the wins. Thankfully, the good times always came back around -- but I'm a little worried about this start to 2010 that's causing me to flashback to five years ago.

In the final days of 2004 and the opening of 2005...

• While visiting family in California, we borrowed our niece's car to drive to San Francisco. The car was vandalized at the train station where we parked outside the city (side and rear windows smashed in). After trying to drive the car back to Davis in the rain, we finally gave up and called my husband's sister and her husband to come rescue us. Oh, and I was about 13 weeks pregnant, so you can imagine how even-keeled I was about the whole thing.
• While trying to get home from California, we sat in the plane on the runway for 3+ hours before finally taking off -- then missed our connecting flight in Chicago after running (literally) through the airport and ended up spending a few hours of sleep in an airport hotel before catching an early morning flight home. Did I mention I was pregnant?
• On my first day back at work after the holidays, my wallet was stolen out of my office by a con-man who (through an elaborate scam that I won't detail here) was able to charge several purchases to my ATM card before I realized what was happening. (Thankfully, the Credit Union took great care of me once we got the mess sorted out -- but let this be a reminder to all to NEVER EVER tell anyone your PIN, even if you think they work for your bank. Ever.) And again, did I mention I was pregnant and emotional and exhausted?

Thankfully, despite the disastrous beginning, 2005 brought us great gifts -- namely, one beautiful, healthy baby boy. He came with his own craziness, but he's definitely worth it.

I tell you all of this now because here's what happened today:

• A water pipe burst under the house this afternoon. It was a comedy of errors (okay, it wasn't funny at the time, but you have to laugh so as not to cry) while I tried to locate the tool to shut off water to the house (we have no inside-the-house shut-off) and then attempted to figure out how to use it while my husband coached me over the phone.
• Our home warranty won't cover the plumbing problem because it involves freezing weather and a hose bib. Really? I'm paying you over $500 a year so that you can NOT cover things that break?
• UNC lost to the College of Charleston tonight. C'mon, Heels!
• When I reminded my husband that 2005 turned out to be a great year after all (because of course, we both went back to that jinx when the pipe burst today), he said, "Oh no. I hope you're not pregnant." But clearly that's not a problem as I started my period this morning -- this may seem like a good thing, except that it also means I'm on a 26-day cycle. At this rate, I'll end up menstruating twice a month before the end of the year.

Okay, so that last one was probably more than you wanted to know. But it really was the perfect ending to a completely stellar day.

The good news? The plumber is coming tomorrow morning, so hopefully we'll have water again by tomorrow afternoon. And in the meantime, we have wonderful neighbors who are going above and beyond the call of duty to take care of us.

Hopefully this is all a good sign that 2010 will be just as fruitful as 2005 was -- but in a totally different way.

A Letter to Santa

Junius wrote his first letter to Santa this week. I'm not sure who was more excited about it -- Junius or his daddy.

Thanks to some really wonderful coaching from Abby, they did a great job -- not sure if you can read Daddy's translation of Junius's drawings in the letter (shown left), but here's what it says:

Dear Santa, I have been good this year. Lightning McQueen and Chick Hicks [illustrations of the cars that he's asking for]. Please bring toys to other children too. Merry Christmas to Santa.

After they wrote the letter, we all went up to North Hills (a convenient substitute for the North Pole) and mailed the letter in the special Santa mailbox outside the toy store.

The whole thing was very sweet, but it left me feeling a little conflicted. I grew up "believing" in Santa the same way I "believed" in Pippi Longstocking, the Narnia siblings and the Muppets -- another great character to enjoy. I never felt deprived of the magic of Christmas, but also never had the crushing he's-not-real-and-everything-is-ruined moment.

As a kid, I loved watching Christmas specials, singing carols, decorating the house, waiting for my grandparents to arrive (which really signaled the beginning of the holiday for me). On Christmas Eve, we'd go to mass, then come home and open one present. Once we were in our pajamas, Granny would start looking anxiously out the window declaring, "Oh my stars! I think I see some reindeer out there -- you kids better get to bed!" In retrospect, I'm sure our holidays were filled with plenty of stress for my parents, but for me it was all fun and good times -- even though I didn't really believe that Santa was real.

Now as a mom, I'm at a total loss about how to create that same fun-without-the-pressure for my own kids. They'll be excited about Christmas morning no matter what -- doesn't matter who the presents are from. What I worry about (after listening to my 4-year-old for the past month) is my kids believing that Santa will automatically bring them every gift they want. I'm more worried about their disappointment in Christmas if they believe too much.

At the same time, I don't want to ignore Santa completely -- and I couldn't do that, even if I wanted to, given that he's everywhere and that so many people really want to believe. It's a tough call -- wish I had the answer. I know I'm not alone in this struggle -- see Erin's post at Triangle Mamas.

So tonight, after the kids go to bed, we'll put out a couple of presents under the tree from Santa. And I'll watch them in the morning to see their reaction. And then I'll be thankful that I have another 364 days to figure it out for next time.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Remember me? I'm Your Wife...

What with all the ranting last week, I ran out of days to write about the glorious 27 hours I spent with my husband over Thanksgiving weekend.

That's 27 hours alone. No kids. No parents. No work. No deadlines. Just us. Overnight. For the first time in three years.

Crazy, crazy fun.

We left the kids at home with my parents on Friday morning at 9:30 and returned home the next day around noon. Picasso and Warhol at the Nasher in the morning. Pepper's for lunch. Afternoon nap at The Franklin. Dinner at Mediterranean Deli. Movie at The Varsity. The Franklin's special breakfast in bed. Brunch from Sunrise Biscuit Kitchen. Plus some lovely details in between that I won't write about because my parents and my in-laws read my blog (and it's not that kind of blog anyway).

Did I mention it had been three years?

Oh, and my favorite part about staying at The Franklin? The "do not disturb" button right beside the headboard -- you don't even have to get out of bed to hang the tag on your door.

Could it be more perfect?

Guest Post: There's a Reason They're Smiling

Today we feature a special guest blogger: my husband. May God bless this wonderful man, who fearlessly tackled a most painful chore two nights ago and thus earned the right to rant.

Okay, I confess. I’m a customer service critic. From attitudes and aptitudes to cleanliness and consistency, I want companies to get it right.

Good customer service isn’t that hard….really…unless, you’re Time Warner Cable. They don’t seem to get it. After we discovered that we don’t need or want to pay for 400+ channels (including the home-wrecking channel, the laundry detergent channel or the we-don't-have-a-theme-yet-but-here's-some-bad-programming-anyway channel), I decided to make the call and downgrade our service.

But before I begin, in fairness, I must offer kudos to TWC’s “John” in sales and “Sara” in customer service who were nice, but powerless to do the one thing I wanted. No, that job was reserved for the folks in “retention.”

I’m not exactly sure what they were retaining, but “Jeremy” and “Bridget” had it bad. Jeremy bumbled for 10 minutes looking up my account, couldn’t take a payment and didn’t even try to solve my problem. He passed me to Sara (see kudos above) who could only take a payment and send me back to Bridget for more retaining.

Poor Bridget. Bless her heart, she couldn’t find my account for 20 minutes. She asked for our phone number (which came from TWC and was only ten digits) and couldn’t find it. I gave her my account number (which came from TWC) and she couldn’t find it. I spelled our last name several times and she couldn’t find it. I even tried spelling it louder for her. I gave her my wife’s Verizon cell phone number and then miracle of miracles! It appeared!

I stated what I wanted to do, how much I wanted to pay and why. She said “okay” and over the next 40 minutes dodged any rational discussion about whether or not she could do what I asked. Apparently the "okay" was her way of saying "yeah, right." She proposed meaningless offer after meaningless offer. I debated her logic, berated her company and mandated my request. I was even tempted by a free month of any movie channel. But alas, no.

Then I pulled out the nuclear option. I told her I was ready to cancel all of my services. Right then. Seriously. We could do it. We have more than 30 Sesame Street episodes on our TiVo, plus countless others from Franklin, Bob the Builder and the Biscuit Brothers. And of course, there's always our knight in shining armor -- Netflix!

I restated what I wanted one last time. Finally she said, “Okay, I can do that. I’m sorry, I didn’t know that I could.” There it was -- the magic "okay" and just like that I got what I proposed at the beginning of the call. Total elapsed time: 1 hour 20 minutes. We’ll save $516 over the next year on cable. Not bad for a Pyrrhic victory. I was exhausted when the call ended.

Of course, for every bad experience, there are those good ones. Such as the folks at the N.C. License Plate Agency on Wake Forest Road and the fine folks at the Guilford County Tax Office. That’s right – two government agencies.

The folks I encountered the morning after my TWC-near-death-experience were very nice, smiling and helpful people. They helped me sort out the hanging details of a license plate renewal that fell through the crack of last year’s move. They were patient, polite and personable. I suspect they knew I needed them more than they needed me. But they played along and made me happy about “going legit.” After I paid the back car tax and the renewal fee, I was done. It cost me $257, but I was happy and my faith in humanity was renewed.

Maybe they knew what the TWC folks didn’t. You don’t have to be so brazen about TAKING someone’s money if they’ll gladly GIVE it to you.

Thanks for letting me rant…

For My Husband

As I walked down the aisle eight years ago today, arm-in-arm with my parents, my hands were shaking so badly that I thought I might drop my bouquet. It wasn't so much nerves as excitement and emotional overload.

When I got to the front of the church, I took my soon-to-be-husband's hand, kissed him on the mouth and promptly stopped shaking.

After the wedding, I got a lot of teasing about how I was supposed to wait until the end of the ceremony for the big kiss. But it was totally worth it.

We might have surprised a few people with our choice of song for our first dance, too -- although not our next door neighbor, who didn't realize he'd been listening to us practice our shag moves (no, not that kind of shag) every time it played.


Happy anniversary, my love. Only 42 more years until you get to renegotiate the contract.

Cult of Domesticity

I may have joined a cult.

At first, I wasn't sure -- but after today's incident, I'm thinking that's what happened.

It all started innocently enough. Earlier this summer, we installed new carpet upstairs -- the old mess desperately needed to be replaced, so we had it pulled out and put in a lovely loop-and-pile Stainmaster carpet. My bare feet were so happy.

Then, in order to take good care of our fancy new carpet (plus the almost-new carpet already downstairs), we decided to get a new vacuum cleaner. Seemed like a good idea, given that the one we have was a cheap floor model we got at a discount and it makes the house smell bad every time I turn it on. So we spent some time looking online (as we always do) -- reading reviews, checking prices, looking for the best deal.

I also asked friends what they use, laughing each time one of them lowered her eyes, blushed slightly and said apologetically, "I bought a Dyson," adding hurriedly, "but it's amazing what it can get out of your carpet. Really. Seriously. I mean, you should see it. It's amazing." Why so embarrassed, I thought -- I know they're expensive, but it's okay if you really think they're that great.

Finally on Sunday, we found ourselves at a big box appliance store. We started with the Hoover, which seemed like a good basic option that had all the necessary details. My husband was test-driving it when Junius announced that he needed to pee, so I took my son to the potty. When I returned from said potty trip, somehow my husband had moved from the $170 Hoover to the nearly $500 Dyson. You know, the one with the cool ball roller thing and the wand attachment that launches out of the handle like a light saber. That vacuum has more engineering in it than my car.

Long story short, the salesman did his job and we were sold -- plus he had a coupon. An hour later, we had it home, out of the box, assembled and were vacuuming the upstairs. Everyone wanted a turn. And when we were finished, the amount of crap inside that canister was enough to make my stomach turn (see disgusting close-up photo at left). Between knowing that all that mess was no longer under my feet and that the air the Dyson was putting out was actually cleaner that what was already in the house, I was an instant believer.

Then today at the pool, I was chatting with two other moms (who I don't know well) about life, love and the pursuit of cleanliness. One mentioned using her vacuum attachment to clean hard surfaces instead of dusting. "That's brilliant," I said. "Never thought of that, but I just got a new vacuum cleaner with a brush attachment built in, so I could do that at the same time when I'm vacuuming."

And when she asked the next logical question -- "What kind did you get?" -- I promptly lowered my eyes, blushed slightly and answered apologetically, "I bought a Dyson."

Guess that means I'm an official cult member now. But at least my carpet is cleaner than ever.

Good Day for a Dad

Although I'm guessing this wasn't his ideal Father's Day, my husband was a great dad today.

I've had a fever and a miserable cold since Friday night and Pippi woke up with the same mess on Saturday, so we haven't been a whole lot of fun. Junius made a nice card (on his sister's behalf) and we let Daddy go for a run this morning. But otherwise, he's been on Dad Duty pretty much all weekend.

When I woke up from a long morning nap (I'd put myself in bed right after I put Pippi down), the house was empty. Turns out that my sweet husband had retrieved Pip after her nap (I never even heard her wake up), dressed both kids (with bloomers on Pippi, no less) and gone to Biscuitville. We sat out on our front porch and ate biscuits together while the kids begged sips of sweet tea from their Daddy.

It wasn't anything fancy, but for me it was a perfect picture of why he's my husband. I always knew he would be a wonderful dad -- not just a father, but a real kiss-the-boo-boos-change-the-diapers-get-down-and-silly-hands-on dad.

My own father was and is a great dad -- and now a great PopPop, too. So I know that my husband might just be the greatest gift I can give my children -- a dad who loves them, a dad that I love, a dad who loves me.

Happy Father's Day!

Oh, what a night

Dinner at trendy new downtown Lebanese restaurant: $22

Signature cocktail at trendy new downtown bar: $8

Downtown parking deck: free

Neighborhood ladies night out with wonderful friends (including rockin' minivan soundtrack, witty conversation, getting carded, getting hit on by some random guy and staying up WAY past my bedtime), and then coming home to my beautiful family all sweetly sleeping and snuggling up with my husband: priceless

How Netflix Saved My Marriage

Before we had children, my husband and I watched lots of movies. Sometimes we went to the movie theater for a night out. Other times we'd watch whatever was on Turner Classic Movies, occasionally watching two or three movies back-to-back late into the night. But often, we'd find ourselves at the video store (yes, it was VHS for us back then) trying to agree on a movie to rent.

If we were at VisArt Video (when we lived in Chapel Hill), we usually made it out safely with some interesting foreign or indie film. But if (Lord, help us) we had to go to Blockbuster, all bets were off. Inevitably, we wasted nearly an hour wandering around the store, unable to agree on anything, before finally picking something out of desperation that neither of us really wanted to watch. By then we were both so irritated that we'd start arguing about anything petty and pointless on the way home, so that we had no interest in spending time together by the time we finally got there.

And then the heavens opened, and we subscribed to Netflix.

The fighting ended. Happy movie watching ensued, with no late fees.

Over the years, our subscription has changed. We used to get 3-at-a-time unlimited rentals back when we could actually watch three movies in a weekend. Now we're on the 2-at-a-time/4-a-month plan, which might still be too much for our lifestyle -- but one of them is usually a kids' DVD, so it works. Our excessively long queue is still filled with new releases, old classics, quirky independents and those series we missed on TV -- but it's also peppered with Bob the Builder, episode of The Muppet Show and some Herbie movies.

Nice that Netflix can evolve and grow with us -- just like the marriage it helped save.

Somehow I just knew

I've had two moments in my life when I was strangely certain of something that I couldn't possibly know.

One was when I found out I was pregnant for the first time. I peed on the stick, waited, looked at the little lines magically appearing in the window, and knew immediately that I was having a son. I can't explain it, but it was just the first thought in my head. It was clear and loud -- and it turned out to be accurate.

The other odd moment of clarity and clairvoyance happened some years earlier, one sunny August day on the steps of Carroll Hall at UNC-Chapel Hill. It was my second day as a master's degree student, and I'd just introduced myself in the hallway to the handsome Ph.D. student who was teaching the Intro to Public Relations class I'd attended the day before.

As I bounced down those steps into the sunshine, I thought, "I have met my husband."

Six months later, we were engaged. Six months after that, we were married. When you know, you know.

Simple Gifts

Today's inauguration was amazing. I'm embarrassed to confess it, but I don't think I've ever actually watched one before, except in news clips. Got goosebumps and choked up and all that. Really felt like it was "my" president being sworn in for the first time.

The instrumental performance before the swearing in -- with Perlman and Yo-Yo Ma and the two other people whose names I can't remember -- took my breath away. Composer John Williams worked in "Tis the Gift to Be Simple," which we used in an arrangement for our wedding processional. Seems like the perfect music for a wonderful beginning. If the parallel holds true for my first year of marriage and Obama's first year in office, it won't necessarily be an easy year for him, but it will definitely be worth all the effort.

Every time Junius saw the 44th president on TV today, he would jump up and sing out, in his clearest, most careful voice, "That's President Bar-ack O-bama!" Made me so proud, even though I'm not sure he understands what he's saying.

I just have this feeling that 2009 is going to be a good year. And it will be the simple gifts -- watching Pippi get steady on her feet, listening to Junius sing, having the same home address all year, trusting in our President -- that will make it so.