My Favorite Domer (my son) drove down from the Land of the North to celebrate Thanksgiving with us in Central Illinois.
He thought it would be warmer.
He was wrong.
Category Archives: Family/Parenting
Trying to “Steal” a Bargain
When I was about twelve, two of my cousins (sisters) came north for a couple of weeks to visit.
We’d only recently become close with these girls (long story!), so it was a treat for my sister and me.
We were like stair steps in age — but totally different in appearance.
As fair as my sis and I were (thanks to our blond-haired father), they were dark with attractive Italian coloring.
One day, we decided to go swimming. But back then, the pool required females to wear swim caps.
An Alternative to the “Cone of Shame”
This morning on our walk, Darling Doggie Dallas and I passed a puppy wearing the “Cone of Shame.”
For those unfamiliar with this device, it’s basically a lampshade attached to the animal’s collar to prevent it from licking wounds. In this case, it was being worn in the aftermath of neutering surgery.
“How’s he doing with that?” I asked the dog’s owner.
“Not too bad,” he said. “He doesn’t seem to mind it too much, really.”
That wasn’t the case with my Sheltie.
Into Every Life Some Accidents Will Fall
There’s nothing quite like meeting someone new. . . by accident.
Now before you get all excited and happy for me, this isn’t a story of my meeting “someone special.”
(Although I’m sure the person I met is special in her own way.)
What Shunning Looks Like
Have you ever been so mad you wanted to slap somebody?
Yesterday at Mass (I know, a lot of good it does attending Church if you’re going to leave angry!), this family came in and sat nearby. I’d seen them before: Dad, Mom, two boys (probably aged 14 or 15), Daughter #1 (maybe 12 or so), and Daughter #3 (aged 5 or so).
What happened to Daughter #2, the one I’m guessing is 10-ish? Well, after the family was seated — and taking up an entire pew — Daughter #2 shows up, tries to scoot somebody over to get in the pew, and fails.
Nobody would move over to let this poor child in.
Wishing my Phone would Ring
I never thought I’d be this way.
Irritable. Scatter-brained.
I could blame it on lack of sleep, and that would be true.
I could blame it on this seemingly unending heat. True, also.
But digging deeper, I find the real source of my mood.
It’s Domer.
My darling son. He who is the apple of my eye.
Sneaking Peas
As another back-to-school season begins, I’m reminded of one day during my elementary school years — a day when my pickiness nearly got the best of me.
I attended Catholic school. Nuns in full habit were our teachers, for the most part, and Mass was required a couple of times a week.
Lunch hour consisted of a hot meal. No brown bags.
The hair-netted lunch ladies would ladle out our food on trays, with separated portions for the veggies, fruit, main meat, etc.
Sometimes it was good. Other times, it was awful.
This one day was of the latter.
Peas were on the menu.
New stage in life — Empty Nest
My Favorite Domer called the other night and pointed out that his younger friends were gradually migrating back to Notre Dame for Band Camp and another school term.
And despite his beginning to enjoy life in the Working World, he’s verklempt over not being on campus. After all, this is his first year on the other side of college, and he’s discovering just how much he’s going to miss it.
I know exactly what he’s feeling. I’ve been having some of the same emotions.
Bye Bye Birdie
Some of you have been kind enough to wonder where I’ve been and what I’ve been up to for the past few days.
A few have even admitted to worrying about me.
Cool! Thanks for the concern. Things have been crazy here, with little slowdown expected in the foreseeable future, but perhaps if I let you in on the craziness, you won’t worry as much.
I think I mentioned My Favorite Domer has a JOB in the Land of the North, and I’m helping him get settled there.
I’ve made three trips up and back in the last two months, no easy feat as it’s a full day’s travel one way!
This last trip, my mom wanted to tag along.
Traveling with Mom is a nightmare an experience.
At first she thought we might stay at Domer’s new apartment, but I nixed that fast.
She has a bladder the size of a grape; no way would he or I ever see the inside of the bathroom!
So we opted for a hotel.
Now Mom wants her hotel room lit up like an airport runway, hot as a greenhouse, and noisy with her snoring. I need darkness, coolness, and quiet.
It’s useless to complain, so I travel with my MP3 and a stuffed bunny (so I can use his floppy ears to shield my eyes from the light).
Don’t judge — you’d find my routine very relaxing.
Anyway, once we got to Domer’s place, I noticed a bird’s nest right outside his door, just as it had been for my previous trip.
‘Didn’t the babies hatch yet?’ I asked.
‘I think so, but I can’t be sure,’ he said.
These birds (some mysterious species prevalent in the Land of the North) have a proclivity toward SWOOPING at Domer every time he uses the door.
They almost landed in my hair last time, and Domer was horrified.
So he avoids them whenever possible, even to pinpointing their typical swooping hours!
Sorry, Mama Bird, but my son is paying good money to live here, whereas you’re camping out for free. That, in itself, seems wrong, but what’s even more aggravating is for you to be teaching your kids to attack my kid.
And that will never do!
‘I’m going to knock that nest down,’ I told Domer. ‘Those babies should have flown off a long time ago. Perhaps if the nest is gone, they’ll all just go away.’
‘I’m not so sure,’ he told me, reaching into his golf bag and handing me a Seven Iron. ‘But have at it.’
And he opened the door to let me out.
‘You’re not going to help?’ I asked, feeling a momentary panic.
‘Nope,’ was all he said.
From behind the closed door.
‘Just let me know when it’s done,’ he added.
My heart was pounding as I reached up with the club, pushed the nest off the downspout, and, finding it empty, chipped it into some tall grasses.
‘Take that, you beasts,’ I thought.
Moral: Don’t ever mess with this Mama Tiger protecting her cub!
Here a Car, There a Car. . . .
Recently, My Favorite Domer (AKA my son) permitted me to go car-shopping with him.
His decision, I’m sure, came after a frustrating day where he found:
- Car salesmen who refused to take his search seriously.
- Salesmen who ignored him on the lot.
- Salesmen who tried to sell him more vehicle than he needed.
- Salesmen who tried to charge him more than he wanted to pay.
Part of me misses the buying experience Saturn dealerships used to offer. No haggling. No gimmicks.
Just pay the sticker price and take the car.
How refreshing!
But Domer was born too late for that, so he had to suffer the joys of “search and wheedle.”
And he wanted me along for the ride.
He insisted he wouldn’t buy from any place where he had to go inside and hunt down a salesman.
“If they don’t want to try to sell, then they haven’t earned my business,” he said.
Okay. Works for me.
The first place we went, we scoured the lot peeking into car windows and examining stickers.
No salesman (or woman) approached us.
I suggested going inside. Domer didn’t want to, but we did.
Walked the entire length of the showroom, nodding at the salespeople sitting alone in their cubicles.
Not a one spoke to us!
Puzzled, we left.
The next place wasn’t much better.
This salesman approached us, made a few cursory remarks, learned Domer wasn’t a big spender and pretty much sent us on our way.
What’s going on here, I wondered.
At the third dealership, no sooner had we parked my car when a young, energetic, pretty sales girl welcomed us, introduced herself, and promptly started showing us cars.
In Domer’s price range. With the specs he’d outlined.
And if she’d had the car he wanted, she’d have made herself a sale.
The next day we traveled far out of town to a dealership where Domer immediately found “the car.”
It was beautiful, shiny, sleek, and looked perfect for him.
After driving it, we sat down with the salesman to crunch some numbers.
Now Domer majored in Finance. He loves numbers.
But I see figures, and my eyes glaze over and I zone out.
When the bottom line total appeared, Domer shook his head.
Too much, he insisted.
The sales manager stepped in, offering a lease.
Domer couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
Finally, we found another dealership with another female sales rep. And while they didn’t have the car Domer wanted on their lot, she and the sales manager worked to get a fair price both they and Domer could live with.
And they searched around until they found the right car for Domer.
It was in Ohio.
He drove it off the lot Fourth of July weekend.
Now, if he’d just stop calling it a cash drain!
Musings by an ND Domer's Mom 