The Rules of Friends (Kindsay-style)

Kindsay has become the typical female adolescent with the nonstop phone calls and all. The phone calls are to and from one girlfriend from her class--but it's a friend nonetheless!!--and I will look no gift horse in the mouth! The last girlfriend from her class was banned from talking to her on the phone because the calls were coming from Kindsay around the clock (not to my knowledge of course!), but in the case with the new girl on the block, she has met her match. New friend, I will call Alli, calls us around the clock and leaves tiny-voiced messages looking for "Kindsay! Where are you?" Yes, Alli is a special needs child too so we've got them chasing each other's tails about the unknown all evening on the phone. I've enjoyed seeing Kindsay socialize, I have not, however, enjoyed missing every call coming in through call waiting...well, not entirely true, but you know what I mean. I will not be one of those parents who ban any child from calling my house, especially not special little gals like Alli. My husband and I both think she is just about the cutest thing and we want to eat her up in a non-literal, figurative-only type of way. She's half Kindsay's height and twice her width, just a round, jolly little thing with so much spunk she makes Hannah Montana look like a wallflower. All night, every night, Kindsay and Alli talk about going to each other's houses. With all the time they spend planning they could've had world peace figured out, but alas they want to know "when and what time" they can see each other. Since Alli's parents only speak Spanish, I direct all correspondence to Greg (whew!)...but at least once a night Kindsay will just randomly hand me the phone while I look at her puzzled (yeah, I know, will I catch on one day?), only to say hello to Alli who begins quizzing me about the "when and what time." Kindsay finally went to Alli's one Friday night. Greg dropped her off, and when he brought her home Kindsay had a shopping bag. Seems she went through Alli's house and whatever she saw she liked they gave it to her. Aye! Kindsay comes home with 2 sweaters and a box of barritas~(not burritos...barritas...look it up)~Again, we reviewed the rules of 'what to do when visiting at a friend's house'...#1--don't tell the parents you are mad at them (like she did with 'banned' friend) #2--don't ask for everything you see that you want #3--don't lock yourself in the bathroom and ignore their pleas for you to come out (banned friend again) #4--oh who am I kidding? These rules come along when we turn a corner, or hit a wall...whichever...either way, we're not prepared to prepare her because we don't know the problem exists yet. sigh.
It had been another week and Kindsay and Alli again made plans. This time I never got let in on the plans, which isn't surprising. My doorbell rings on Saturday morning and there stands Alli, ready to pick up Kindsay. Kindsay rushes to the door...dirty clothes (food all over from breakfast) that she slept in, major ratty bedhead, and a big purse on her shoulder. No--uh uh...you aren't going anywhere, and the gates of hell opened. I put my foot down while the mom got out of her car with an English-speaking aunt. "We didn't know if you knew that Kindsay was coming over." Um no. I ask Alli, 'do you want to stay here today instead since Kindsay isn't ready to leave the house?' Alli is nervous all the sudden and stammers something about not wanting to because Kindsay's dad will touch her. I'm taken aback--what? no! Kindsay's dad isn't going to touch you! I turn to the mom, "My husband and I both work in schools, we know how to deal with kids...we don't touch them...we won't touch her..." I'm explaining like I've been caught plotting, but Alli's mom nods and smiles...it's okay, she says, Alli can stay. Alli comes in, but she's so nervous she can't hold still. She moves through my house like she's walking in the dark, completely disoriented and unsure with every turn. She keeps repeating something about Kindsay's dad touching her and I actually started wondering, "what did Greg do??" Finally, Greg comes in the room and hears Alli announce that he's going to touch her. You can imagine his surprise! "No! I'm not going to touch you, please don't worry, etc." (while he's doing this he starts picking up stuff on the floor by her feet...later I said, "way to go to make her more comfortable by invading her personal space to pick up socks off the ground") At last we gave in and Greg took Kindsay and Alli to Alli's house. The next morning, I get in my car to find a policeman's business card. What's this? Did Greg get a ticket? Then it dawned on me--since when do policemen give out business cards after writing tickets "Nice doing business with you, let's do this again soon!" not likely. So I call him. Greg laughs a bit, apologizes for not telling me about this, and proceeds to explain. It seems Alli has a neighbor of a questionable nature. It must've been the parents' approach to protecting Alli by scaring the bows out of her hair by telling her what a freak he is and all the bad stuff he would do to her if she went to his house. Alli decided to let Kindsay in on 'freaky neighbor' and got Kindsay so riled up she called 9-1-1. Yup. Greg pulled up to Alli's to pick her up only to find cop cars and their owners at Alli's door with two little special needs teenage girls heroically alerting them to 'freaky neighbor'. OK..so now we have rule #4...don't call the police on the neighbors unless the parents tell you to. I can't wait to find out what rule #5 is going to be. Any predictions?

re"LAX" ??

Have you ever been to LAX? I can't imagine the entire airline industry's problems not being solved after stepping within three miles of that place. Granted, it was just days before Christmas, but my goodness--the entire world was there. We met up with the Wards, our fellow travel companions, at the hotel where we all caught a shuttle to the airport. All twelve of us were heavy-laden with baggage...each child carried a backpack and a 'can't do without' Snuggie along with a carry-on, plus Greg and I had one checked-in bag carrying all of Christmas as granted by Santa himself. Matt and Aimee had their share of luggage and arm-busting carry-ons..so it was every man for himself. Every man, woman, and child. We stood in the lobby of the hotel waiting for the shuttle that continued to circle to the airport and back through all included hotels without stopping because it was never-endingly packed full of people. "Five more minutes," the hotel bellboy would tell us...slowly the lobby went from just my little family of seven, to the Wards after finishing breakfast, to many more people...each getting anxious that the last and only ship to sail that day would never arrive. Five minutes--psh! Another five, and another...slowly people began to move their way outside into the freezing cold dawn(not really to some, but to us Californians? ew...40 degrees.) I am never one to be unfair, but I know people, especially those catching a plane, are not going to be the same way, so I ushered my clan outside to their balking. I didn't want to be obnoxious and say, "I want to make sure we get on that shuttle because we've been waiting longer than anyone here!" but...I'm not a child I suppose, so trap shut--body language loud and clear. At last, twenty more people and twenty more bags later the shuttle arrives, and in it is an older gentleman who has the world in his hands and every minute to spare. We lug everything on, piece by piece is taken by the driver and placed on carts lined up against the front of the bus walls. We push back, standing or sitting, but not going anywhere because the whole sardine concept was in full force and in case of impact, well, I feared for the glutton that hits us. At last, kids getting louder as they get more excited, each feeding each other's frenzy as they look about them in awe of their circumstances, and the driver putts his way to the airport, foot looming over the break versus stepping on the pedal. Thankfully we were the last hotel stop, so next was LAX...should be BLECK or GAG or something else than a word that resembles 'relax.' The driver called out for airlines and we chimed back as he made mental note of all his upcoming stops. The departure area was alive with all walks of life, and to sit and people watch would've made a great Christmas on its own, but the money to get to Hawaii was spent so...oh well, off we went. Delta, our airline, was third in line to stop, and it was like the bus threw up when we got off. Bags, backpacks, purses, blankets, and this was just my family, not including the many others who fell out behind us. I had the misguided idea that checking in my bag in advance would speed up the process, but as I looked down the long line of brilliant people with the same idea, I realized...after too long in that line...that it would've been easier to go inside and check in at the counter. For one, it would've been warmer! We lined the kids up inside the airport along the window so we could watch them, but we mostly watched our breath escape in clouds and inhaled for at least half an hour. And we thought getting to the airport 2 hours early was getting the worm, but we were among early birds that already ate my worm, chewed it, digested it, and pooped it out. As we stood in weariness staring at the single man checking in people that had one problem after another that would never have occurred on any other day, we see a limo pull up. Out steps the leathery, cowboy-hat wearing, skin tight clothing having, fakest of fake faces to the point of complete new identity, her two kids and her wannabe famous husband. He appeared to be somewhat of a celebrity by the way the airline was treating him--the limo wasn't just a ruse I suppose, but the whole charade was ridiculous as those of us anonymous travelers stood by daring to breath the same air. Hey--at least it was entertaining watching this woman's plastic cheeks and lips move about in rapid motion as she spewed fake kindness and charm. Shrug. We were behind the next person to be helped. I looked around myself, found and counted my kids, checked for their bags on their backs, and realized--our suitcase to check-in was missing. The realization warmed me instantly as heat shot up to my head and through my ears. "Greg! The suitcase is on the shuttle!" I don't know what was worse, not making the plane or having spent all that time essentially for nothing because I had nothing to check in. Matt and Aimee looked around with relief as they spotted their two to check, but Greg dashed off looking for anyone with a name tag and I was in panic mode, which means I'm incapacitated. Matt got on the phone with the hotel and gets info about the shuttle while I'm scanning the street for shuttles with extra luggage on them just to have something to give my kids for Christmas. Inspired by the luggage gods themselves, Aimee remembers the shuttle driver had to loop back around because he skipped one airline...so he'll be back around any time! I feel like I'm auditioning for the next Christmas movie by Disney as my head jerks around, hair whipping, glasses slipping...looking looking...what color was it? What print was on the side? It was blue! the blue shuttles that drove by were like in families that flocked together. The lady in front of us was summoned to the counter which means my chosen time was coming and I was going to be ill-prepared! Greg was racing around downstairs finding a phone to call the shuttle whose name he absolutely did not know so he was really moving for the sake of moving because what else was he to do? Through the traffic, the masses of cabs, cars, buses, and shuttles, I see the blue van with the elderly gentleman...chin up and falling into his seat heavily like he was floating on a cloud and not performing airline miracles. I run to him, which was behind us and back about a hundred or so feet, dodging people and cars, throwing myself into harm's way for the sake of a stocking stuffer. I get in front of the shuttle and wave like groupie and the driver looks at me in bewilderment but stops and opens his door. He doesn't even have to hear what I say as he turns to look at the single bag sitting on the cart like a lost child. He grabs it and lunges it at me gently, and I thank him profusely, thinking how grateful I was for tipping the guy the first time around. I grab it with superhuman strength and hustle it back to the line in time to check in. Crisis averted! We whip through check in with the Wards and haul to security like every other maniac of delay...the lady at the line shook her head and pointed to the back of the line that lined up outside the airport and down the street, practically back to the hotel. I should've had someone waiting in that line while I checked in, but hindsight is so obnoxious. It was like a Christmas miracle. We raced, all twelve of us with each an extra fifteen pounds or so, to the gate only to get right into line to board the plane. People probably saw us and thought...hmph, they didn't even have to wait...but waiting is all we've done. And now, all I I wanted to do was sit in a seat, with a football player-sized man in front of me reclining into my lap and crushing my ice water cup on the tray and dream of tropical sunrises and poi. Taro root--take me away.

Christmas in Hawaii...and more things to make you gag

Yes, Christmas was in Hawaii, and it was a great decision and trip! It was a little weird on Christmas morning when we only had stockings to open and then a trip next door to the Ward's hut to see what they wanted to do that day. Everything was closed, except the restaurant that we loved down the street, so of course we visited that establishment; otherwise, it was a relaxing day...a little rain...a little fun around the house. There's just too much to tell. The plane ride went smoothly except for one glitch which hopefully wasn't discovered until after we got off the plane and no pictures were taken. Once the small tv in front of each seat finished its feature of how to save your life in an airplane, showing us how to float on our seats, breath the oxygen out of the released masks, and put on the vest that lies between the seats neatly packaged and ready for use, we were ready for take off. Because the plane was packed and there were seven of us, we weren't able to sit together. Kindsay and Garon say by the window and Greg sat a row in front of them in the middle aisle. I sat with Ty three rows back and Bek and Brit...well they never left each other's side. So Greg was the supervising adult for our Miss Kindsay. Is it possible to cause trouble three minutes into the plane ride, before even leaving the ground? You betcha! Once the Angelina Jolie wannabe woman completed her instruction of safety, Greg turned to check on Kindsay and Garon only to find Kindsay fully strapped into the yellow safety vest on the verge of pulling the tabs to inflate the dang thing. Crisis averted as Greg yanked the vest away, avoiding the near strangulation of one very resourceful child. The madness of arrival is never worth mentioning...so I won't. The houses were beautiful, yard was immaculate, and the location was in-cred-i-ble...as my friend and fellow Hawaiian traveler Matt said, "You nailed it on the house." (the house was my job to find). See pictures (and grab a Kleenex)...The laundry facility on the side of the house, out front, was packed full of boogie boards, chairs, snorkel gear, and even a kayak. We grabbed everything we could, except the kayak because we were going to just rent some down at the beach. That was such a money saver! Off we went...doing it all, while Kindsay sat bundled up under a towel in a ball on a chair or in the sand. She really didn't care that we left the house everyday, but she wasn't going to be coerced into doing anything. The only thing she loved was kayak-day. She insisted she ride each time Greg took it out...front and center, rowing opposite of Greg so it took them twice as long to get anywhere, but smiling wide all the while. The next day, Greg and I sat at the private house beach watching Garon roll in with the waves and roll out with the waves...he just loved the water and was becoming one with it when bursting through the bushes down the path comes Kindsay and the kayak from the hut out front. There is no way that child will ever be able to convince us that she can't do anything. Greg warned and warned that the waves would not permit a kayak...but Kindsay wasn't going hear any of it, pushed the kayak into the water, and fell back as the kayak slammed into her legs by the waves. Greg and I videotaped and failed to go to her rescue...it was just too funny. Garon was beside himself trying to save the kayak and Kindsay, screaming at us to be parents...pflt...I say. Kindsay's attempt at kayaking was too funny to jump up and change scenery. But Kindsay loves anything wild and the tropical yard was full of life. Geckos, frogs, roosters (I kill em if I see em), and peacock filled the yard. I went out one morning, leaving Greg and Kindsay. Greg woke to find Kindsay sitting in the tv room, casually enjoying a show, with a ginormous tupperware bowl and an even bigger frog inside, rrriiiiiibbbbiiiiiit. "Oh oh, I'm taking this home." Greg and I placed bets at whether or not we'd be stopped at security because officers find an animal only found in Oahu in our suitcases and we'd be arrested and never allowed back. Only my family could cause a plague after a Christmas holiday. Here's a video of the house.
The boys had a blast too...Garon enjoyed the shark tank, see following video, and Ty found himself lost in the largest maze at the Dole Plantation. Bek and Brit giggled the entire trip about...well, nothing as usual, which means they speak their own language and we'll never understand them, but oh well...we had Hawaiian shaved ice everyday...Ty hated the stuff. After the third day straight eating it he exclaimed, "I hate shave ice! I don't want any shave ice! Why do you keep saying, 'come on, let's get shave ice?' I don't want to hear anymore about shave ice, capush?" Capeesh, Ty...and too bad! The shave ice was soooooo good...as we ate our treat, Matt and I would get back in line for the next flavor. Aimee even found a few she liked..and I must say I was quite hydrated by trip's end. The shark tank was cool, though I preferred seeing it from the boat.
Garon was a brave boy who got in, with Bek, Brit, Emma, Aimee, and Matt--and me for about two minutes. I got wet up to my neck. Me no like wet. And, my friends, that was only one of two times I touched the water the entire vacation. What do you expect? I don't swim in my own pool! Obama too enjoyed his stay while we were there and we have pictures from his entourage, which caboosed with an ambulance...that man is prepared I tell ya. Bottom line--we did it all...snorkel (well, I didn't), kayak (that either), Pearl Harbor (I watched from the bag check-in), Banzai Pipeline visit (no water required...cool), Polynesian Culture Center (Disneyland in the tropics...minus rides and mice), temple visit (closed), shark tank (the guilt got me in, the cold got me right back out), and plenty of R & R on the private beach. Greg had the burger of his dreams, twice...see picture. And we all got lei'd at one point...mind the spelling please.
This doesn't mean we're done with our adventures...and Kindsay, she didn't do too badly, whew! While she looked like Mother Theresa most days with the towel draped over her head wearing her mumu, she was pretty content. Garon's birthday was fun spending it at the PCC, and his cake from a famous bakery on the North Shore was divine. We went to the luau at the end of the day. The PCC was huge, and it was packed! 3000 plus visitors. Kindsay, before we got in the door, was already falling over with fatigue and disinterest. I walked her up to the rental booth, asked the lady how much for a wheelchair...turned to Kindsay, 'you want a wheelchair' only to receive an excited nod...put her in the chair..and voila! a fun day for all. Emma was a dear to push her most of the day, and Kindsay was pretty content in the chair, until it got to the luau. We sat at a long table where the 12 of us fit next to a buffet. The table was lined with pitchers of lemonade, punch, and water. The luau hostess asked those of us in love to come up and dance so Greg and I went up along with Matt and Aimee and danced to their little hula song. I gave Kindsay her night night pills, and perhaps a little soon. If she doesn't take them she gets W i L d...but if she does, she gets loopy. We sat at the buffet chatting, eating, chatting some more, and turn to see Kindsay with a pitcher of punch going down her face with her eyes half open. She said in a drunken stupor, "skip the glass, I'm gonna drink this stuff straight from the bottle!" Needless to say, we let her finish the punch. The show afterward was awesome, and the shopping was satisfying...Overall, it was a dream having all four of my kids at my side, along with a niece and dear family friends...and the 80 degree weather wasn't bad neither.
Rebekah's favorite part: all of it! especially L & L down the street!
Garon's favorite part: the shark tank, being so close to the beach
Ty's favorite part: the Dole maze and being at the house so close to the beach..and the plane!
Kindsay's favorite part: kayaking
Kindasy summed Hawaii up like this: all the facts and fun she had in Hawaii in one big long sentence, then a blurb about Hawaiians..."they are really nice, super nice, they might take you and kill you and murder you, but they are nice." Take a chance...it was fun!

You Asked For It!

Our trip to Hawaii is fast approaching, so getting the house clean is on the list of things to do before we go. My boys share a room and Kindsay has her own room--both rooms are a mess. Not a mess as in, "Wow." But a mess as in "just get this stuff put away and we can go on with our day." so they weren't that bad!! The rule was--no leaving the room unless the room is clean, closets and under the beds included--except to do room-cleaning business. Amazing--my children were in their rooms ALLLLLLL day. Either I'm a genius and have figured out how to have a quiet day while my children are home, or I'm an idiot because my children's rooms are now much worse than they were at the start. I think I'm an idiot. Please refrain.
For the boys...they can do a great job, even down to making the beds with perfection and having the floor cleaned...but today--alas, must be the start of a holiday because I don't recognize the two turkeys in my house! It was like a wrestling match all day, the bedding on the beds being part of the equipment as well as any and all items on their shelves. Slowly I lost sight of the floor. Finally at 4:00 PM I told them, "You know the day is gone and it's time for dinner and bed soon." They both stopped and jaw-dropped each other...then carried on their way. Ty finally stopped and whined something about needing to eat, but I quickly pointed out the hangers on the floor to be put away. Yes, I'm a dictator! No, I didn't win that war! Yes, I'm being overthrown by the government, except it's gorilla-warfare because my kids are ANIMALS! Am I alone in this? One thing for sure is that Kindsay is a product of A Beautiful Mind. It was actually unnerving, which isn't out of the ordinary for her, but at some point you reach a corner and when you turn it you want to run the other way only to find a wall behind you that you hit full speed and fall over, though I'm surprised I've yet to go into a coma (self-induced might not be a bad idea). Kindsay had the same rule applied to her today. She can do an awesome job cleaning her room--swear! She can really amaze us...when there's enough at stake. Money or a spank will usually get her moving, but today she had whatever fever my boys had because she was going to have none of it. She too sat in her room ALL day; however, she was alone. Now, the boys have each other to jump between beds and thrash, but Kindsay managed to do that all by herself, and she's thirteen so that's even worse. Her room only had a laundry basket of clothing to put away and a few items on the floor (school stuff, a doll, the microwave has become a permanent fixture but I'd love to see that thing moved into the garage...but usual stuff.) I stripped her bed to wash her sheets so she didn't have to make her bed, which was even less work for her, right?? Now, I'm not an ogre who barks a blanket order and expects perfection...I start out in pieces "Go get all the trash off the floor." "Now, put all the clothes on the bed." Small 1-step instructions so that they can feel some kind of control of their surroundings...but Kindsay took my 'help' in a new direction. "Throw all your trash away" has new meaning, meaning that I wish to erase from my mind--but I can't, so I'm going to invade your mind with it. Watch the video so you know it's not just my wild imagination--it's not long--but it's her sitting in her room on the floor and the mess of the room in all its filthy glory along with her version of throwing away trash. Russell Crowe comes to mind when you see it--except I wish she thought she were a spy so I could send her on a 'mission', Adding insult to injury, the Christmas music blaring in the background is in her room. All she needs is an organ and a black cape and all the pieces would be in place.
If you can't quite understand it, Kindsay had taken all the trash (remember now, she LOVES ads, junk mail, and any kind of paper product so her room is like a rat's nest with useless recyclables shoved into her desk or under the bed)...anyway, she'd taken all the paper goods, with which she should just start scrapbooking--let's face it--and cut them into confetti pieces over her trash can. I'd say half got into the can. Now if that isn't going the LONG way around the block...then such a thing doesn't exist. BTW--her room never got done either. Time to break out the wallet or crack my knuckles for a good paddling over my knee. It's gonna cost me either way since she's no dummy when it comes to cash...at the same time five and half feet and 115 lbs over my knee sounds like a killer...maybe I should just hold a car wash and earn the money to send her to camp (is there a camp year-round?).