The Story of JoNathan

Jonathan will be 19 this March.
 *Deep breath*
 In....and Out...Phewww
Okay so as I was saying, Jonathan will be....gulp...19.

I think I need to lay down.

This past Christmas

Okay Tess, think of something funny so you don't start crying. How could be 19? In 2 more years he'll be able to drink! That's not helping. Stop it. Think about when he was little.

Jonathan has 2 middle names. Arthur was my grandfather and great-grandfather's middle name. Jeffrey was thrown in at the last minute because my ex's mom begged us to name him after her late brother Jeffrey. I would only do it if I could spell it the English way, Geoffrey. Really I just wanted to upset her and assert myself. Bitch move, I know that now but I was 20.  Just a year older than...

I need to lay down again.

Alrighty, Jonathan Jeffrey Arthur Douglass. Funny story, my ex filled out the paperwork for his birth certificate and he missed the 2nd e in Jeffrey. So really it's Jonathan Jeffry Arthur Douglass. I tried calling him Jef-fry for awhile but it didn't stick. We also called him Turtle, JJ, and Zaphod Beeblebrox. Currently JoNathan is our nickname of choice.

When he was 2 he had night terrors for months.  I would sit with him and read Dr. Seuss's Left Foot Left Foot Right Foot Right over and over. He would rock himself and scream in cadence with the story.

Left foot, left foot, right foot, right
Feet in the morning Feet at night
Left foot Left foot Left foot right
Wet foot dry foot
Low foot high foot
Front feet back feet
Red feet black feet
Left foot Right foot Feet Feet Feet

Jon would spend hours lining up all his cars according color or size, whatever method caught his fancy that day.  He wouldn't speak to anyone but he had his own language that he would use to talk to himself and his toys.  Our family doctor thought he might have been autistic, he was a child early on that diagnosis.  Really though Jon was just trying to make sense of his world. His parents had odd work hours so he never had a regular schedule.  He was trying to find order and structure in his life, because we were too young and didn't know enough to give it to him.

Parenting books and family therapy saw us through that rough beginning and once Jon started talking...he's never shut up.  One of Jon's first friends was a girl named Casey, she and her family lived in the apartment building next to ours. We met Casey's parents after she accidentally broke Jon's collar bone when they were playing Airplane. Not the best way to introduce yourself to someone, just so you know. Despite the rocky start our families became good friends.

Casey's family watched Jon one evening. When I came to pick him up, her mom met me at the door before I could even knock. "He never shut up." she said, "Not once. In over three hours. I didn't know a human being could talk so much."

Is it any wonder that he joined the debate team in high school?

Jon didn't just talk all the time.  He asked questions too. A lot of questions. And there was no subject that was off limits.  While waiting for a prescription at the drug store, "Mom do they sell condoms here?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Just curious. Seth said you had to go to a sex shop to buy condoms."
"No, you can buy them here. Or pretty much anywhere." I am answering his question in the calmest way I can but inside I am freaking out.  You're only 13. You don't need condoms. Oh my god should I be telling him where to buy them? No! Yes! Oh my god why did I tell him he could ask me anything? Damn those parenting books.
Jon starts wandering away and I am thanking Shiva he didn't ask me what a sex shop was.  My thanks were a little early however, as his next question comes from next isle over and is in his outside voice. "So where are the condoms?"
I sink down lower into the plastic chair next to the pharmacy window and pretend I didn't hear him. I know from long experience that any response from me will just open the flood gates.
Farther away and in a much louder voice, "Never mind, I found them!"
Oh joy, the flood gates are open.
"Hey mom, did you know you can buy condoms in different colors? Oh cool glow in the dark!"
I am eyeballing the front doors and wondering if I can make it out of the store without Jon noticing.
"Oh wow! Hey mom they have condoms that are studded. Is that like snow tires?"
I can see the red vest of the store manager making his way to investigate the disturbance in the condom isle. Thankfully I also see Jon coming around the corner towards me. "Are we done yet?' he asks. "I am bored."

Since Jon came into my world, bored, is one thing I have never been. Now he lives with his dad and goes to college. My house is quiet and I am allowed to shop in Walgreens again. But everyday I miss him a little. He's not my baby boy any more. He's a funny, intelligent, giving, curious and wonderful young man. I am very proud to be his mom.

Life

My new Life

Sorry for the long silence. My blogging brain has been running on empty. Fortunately Costco has everything so I was able to restock my Life.

Costco has a little too much of everything. I am pretty sure that if you look at your Costco membership cart under an electron microscope you'll find the fine print which clearly states. You are not allowed to leave Costco without having spent a minimum of $100. Even if all you want to buy is one of our delicious deep dish pizzas. 

This had better be, as it says on the cover, The Final Volume.

So naturally while I was there I bought a book. I had already spent my mandatory $100, and then some, and was walking to the checkout area determined not to put any more ah what the heck items in my cart. But as every book lover knows, the siren call of a large open table of new books is impossible to resist. I initially picked up a new Maeve Binchy novel. I was in an Irish sort of mood. Then I saw the latest entry in the Wheel of Time saga. I wasn't going to buy it. I am so over Jordan's, and now Sanderson's increadibly long, increasingly teadious set of books. This one is suppose to be the last one, and I do hate to leave a collection unfinished. So I bought it.

Sigh.

I was up until 1am reading online summaries of the first 13 books in the series just in preparation for reading this book. Now I am sitting her at my desk scowling at the picture of the book cover on my screen. I should have bought a New Life at Costco instead of the same old thing because I know, later today I'll be jumping down this 907 page rabbit hole.

Directions

Unemployment Log:  Entry date 20130221:  Location, Living room floor

Well this just arrived.

The wheel spacers I "helped" Jeff pick out.

The very nice FedEx guy offered to bring the box into the house for me. I thought he made the offer because I was standing there, blinking into the bright light of open doorway,  hair unbrushed, still in my pajamas, no socks or shoes, no bra (wince) and he could see I needed all the help I could get. "I got it." I told him as I shoved the signature pad back at him. I swooped up the box at his feet and stiffly marched back into the house to drop it into William's gaming chair. The only piece of furniture currently in the living room. I waited until Mr. FedEx was back in his truck before gingerly laying down on the floor and apologizing profusely and whole heartedly to my back. Who knew they could pack one hundred ninety seven thousand pounds of forged steel into a 10in x8in x8in box?  A box which the cats were happy to put to good use.



Mao & Shamrock playing box fort.

Yesterday William and I went to Tacoma to have lunch with my dad and stepmom.  After lunch I had to drive him up north to Bothell so he could spend the rest of the week with his dad. Then on the way home I planned to meet with friends in Bellevue for Happy Hour. That's a lot of running around on a day when I was up before dawn. Starbucks to the rescue.

It's not just being single that causes us to be Sleepless in Seattle.

My folks and I planned to meet at Duke's Chowder House.  The restaurant sits on the waterfront of Commencement Bay and is easy to get to if you know where you're going. Having been there only a couple of times before I was going to rely on the force to get me there. The force had always been strong in me but it had recently let me down when my sister in law and I were going to an estate sale in Pacific. So I'll admit I was a bit nervous. But, it's 25 miles to Tacoma, I had a quarter of a tank of gas, a venti cappuccino, it was drizzling....and I was wearing sunscreen. We hit it.

Here's the thing about going to Duke's, my GPS always tells me to turn Right after we exit the freeway. And every time I get to the stop light, I look to my right and see a bridge that goes over the river and leads to....nothing.  So naturally I turn Left. The force tells me I am right, the GPS lady goes berserk. Make a u-turn, she tells me in her overly polite but insistent voice. Make a u-turn.
William, "Mom?"
"We're fine."
In 200 feet, turn left.
I turn right
At every intersection we pass through.
Turn right.
I continue straight ahead. 
"Mom?"
"We're fine."
The GPS is so busy recalculating the route to get me back on the bridge to nowhere that I was expecting sparks and smoke to start pouring from my dashboard. In fact the GPS becomes so insistent that I turn around I start to doubt the force. I mean, it let me down last time. What if it's wrong again. I decide to pull over.
Turn right
I turned right.
From the passenger seat, "Oh my God, finally!"
But there, 30 yards ahead of us is a One Way Do Not Enter sign. To my right is a One Way Do Not Enter sign, and to our left is a Dead End sign. Being the only choice we turned left, down a narrow alley the ended in the worlds smallest pay parking lot. Thankfully there was one open spot because I honestly don't think I could have turned the car around otherwise.
William, "You have to pay to park."
"We're only going to be here for 5 minutes while I check the map on my phone."
"It's 25 cents minimum. Do you have a quarter?"
"Honestly, we're not going to be here that long. Relax."
"Fine." He tilts his seat back and ducks below window level.
"Are you hiding?"
"Yes.  I am not gonna get in trouble because you won't pay a quarter to park."
I ignored my traitorous son and found our location on my phone. I let out a huge sigh of relief when I saw that we were very close to our destination and, until I had followed the GPS, we had been traveling on the correct street to get there.
"You can quit hiding now, we're leaving." I told William.
Eight minutes later when we park outside of Duke's William turns to me and says, "You're such an outlaw. You totally stole parking from the city."  I had no clue what that was suppose to mean but that didn't stop me from basking in the glory of my son's pride.  If not paying 25 cents for 5 minutes of parking makes my son think I am a bad ass...well I can live with that.

Up Before the Sun

Unemployment Log: Entry date 20130220  Location, Back Deck

If you're ever up at 3am in February in the Pacific Northwest and decide it's a good idea to go sit outside and soak up the moonlight...don't.  It really isn't a substitute for sunshine.  Besides which, it's still February so it's cold and wet. And cold. Really. Not warm at all.

Jeff left the house this morning at 2:40.  He came home around 8 last night. Fortunately these kind of hours are a rarity but I have a feeling they will be all too common for the next week or two. His crazy hours only partially explain mine right now. I don't know why I am up and awake. Although I do like the house when it's still and quiet.  Just as I like it here outside.  The world has a different rhythm in the early mornings.

Getting ready for a party last October.
It's not nearly so festive out here right now.

Yesterday was beautiful. with clear skies and sunshine. I took full advantage of the warm-ish weather and worked in the yard. I raked up the winter leaves, cleaned out the annual beds and checked the bamboo for new shoots.  I think that's why I am out here so early. I am getting eager for spring and can't wait to watch things bloom. The yard has been such a long project and the work isn't over yet.

But now my toes are frozen and my hot coffee has turned into an iced coffee. So I am going to give you a story I sent out last year when I threw a birthday party for my lawn. Here is the entirely true story of how the worse lawn in Covington was reborn.

A long long time ago (2010) in a city far far away (Bellevue) God (my boss’s boss) spoke to me. He said, “Tess we must move our people down from the mountain (the 12^th floor) for locust (Microsoft) are coming to devour this land”.  So I gathered my flock and told them that in one full phase of the moon (30 days give or take) we must quit our land and homes and settle in a new place far from here (the 7^th floor).

Yada yada yada – we moved. It sucked. I gave myself a window seat in return for the pain and suffering. (I couldn’t figure out how to hack the payroll system and give myself a raise) From this window seat I observed that those of us blessed to be living in the Great Northwest had been denied a spring season in 2011. This was vastly unfair, as we already put up with only having one month of summer instead of the 3 that everyone else receives.

So, possibly driven mad by the unceasing rain drops upon my head, I began talking to the crow that had recently adopted our yard. He went by the name of Raphael. 

Raphael. Our neighbor named him.
Last year he showed up with a wife I call Mimi.

  I complained about the grey skies, he complained about the weeds and moss in my yard. Apparently they were making it hard to hunt for bugs and worms. As a messenger to the gods, Raphael said if I cleaned up the yard he would tell Shel, the sun, to get off his lazy ass and bring us blue skies and warm weather.

After thinking about this strange offer I decided, “what the hell, it can’t hurt”. Jeff said I had obviously lost my mind and he started looking up psychiatric care facilities. I stalled his plan by telling him we would rent a mini excavator which he could drive. Fortunately he did not see this offer as further proof of my altered status. Boys will be boys after all. 

The next weekend, equipped with the excavator and a dump trailer, we reduced our yard to a barren waste land. 

The only thing left was the baby bamboo
I had panted the year before.

Raphael was also pleased. The uncovered dirt made bug hunting much easier. From there the plan was to bring in top soil, plant grass seed, and then sit back and watch the grass grow. Well, after hauling and spreading 8 yards of soil Jeff resumed his search for psychiatric care for me. There was no way he was going to wait around for grass to grow. He was tired and sore and sick of neighbors asking if we were starting a dirt farm…or just looking for an extreme way to relieve allergies.

The solution was obvious and came in 10 sq ft rolls. Jonathan and I sped off to Home Depot in the truck and bought every single roll of sod they had in stock. For the next 8 hrs I carried, cut and laid out over 3000 lbs of sod. Jeff, his brother and 3 other able bodied men watched from the safety of the driveway. (That is a wholly different story for another time)

 

After I cut and laid in the last piece I sat back and surveyed my hard work. I was feeling pretty proud of myself.  Where, just 8 hours before, there was a barren waste land now there was lovely soft green grass.

  

It looked so good and I was so happy that I planted a tree for Raphael. 

 

Well the grass was in and flourishing for two weeks and as I sat at my desk and enjoyed my window view all that I saw was the liquid form of sunshine. We had crow that night for dinner.

 

Not really.  Raphael continues to visit our house with it's new lovely green grass.  He now brings his wife Mimi with him.

 

Hey, don't look at me like that.  I am sure plenty of normal people give names to crows. And talk to them.  Don't judge.

Projects of Change

Unemployment Log: Entry Date 20130218  Location: Project Command Center

We had our friends over for dinner awhile back. When I asked Jeff what I should make he just smiled and said, "You know what to make."  And I did, roasted chicken manicotti in alfredo sauce, specialty of the house. I took a stab at making bread pudding, it's been almost 20 a long time since I made it and I wasn't sure I remembered how.  Results were mixed, it tasted wonderful but was a bit custardy.  I think I needed to add more bread, and a bit more time in the oven.

Dinner parties are fun but I am ready to sink my teeth into a bigger project. To that end I have once again turned to William. Well more specifically I have turned my project seeking eyes to his bedroom walls.

When the boys and I first moved in to the house almost 8 years ago this room used to be Jeff's. Because he's a man and does manly things in garages he'd never gotten around to painting over the sheep and flower border in his bedroom.  Even more strange, there was a declaration of love for his brother painted in glow-in-the-dark paint on the ceiling.

Turns out the house was previously owned by the parents of one love sick teen aged girl who had harbored quite the crush on young Mr. Adam. These are the perils of buying a house two blocks from your childhood home. When I asked Jeff if seeing "I (heart) Adam" every night bothered him, he replied in perfect seriousness, "No. I am asleep. My eyes are closed so I can't see it."

While I was all for fraternal love, the declaration, the sheep, and flowers had to go. Two very busy weekends later, the boys were surrounded by a city skyline at dusk.



My attempt at painting a city skyline

Now there is just the one boy left at home and the walls have seen their fair share of abuse. It's time for a change. William is not enthusiastic since I have let it be known that my painting skills do not extend to large fire breathing dragons.  The walls are highly textured so I don't think I could do wallpaper. However I am not giving up, so stay tuned and I'll share the progress with you.

Love Letter to My Husband

Delivered yesterday. They are even more beautiful today.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone. So it's a Hallmark holiday, so what? Sometimes we need a little push to help us celebrate the love that's in our lives. Or we could resurrect the old vinegar valentines tradition. Let's not shall we?

Onto my Valentine's Day letter to my husband.

Card from aYa designs

Hi Honey,
I know the other night you were upset because I was feeling pretty low and you didn't know what to do to help. Have you tried WikiHow? Cause I did, and here's some of what they say:

1. Be Honest

When I was building our backyard planter and I was half way through setting the foundation you came out and told me it wasn't level. I wanted to hit you with one of those bricks, but you were right. You also spent the rest of day helping me reset everything and got it all level. I appreciate that you aren't afraid to tell me the hard things.  But even more I love that you aren't afraid to pitch in and make things right.

2. Communicate

Anytime you are out of town I know I'll get a call or text before I go to bed.  No matter how busy your day was you have always made it a point to reach out and let me know you're thinking about me. More importantly you let me in on everything in your life. When you were trying to figure out which wheel spacers to buy for the truck you sat me down and explained, in excruciating comprehensive detail the pros and cons of each size. I don't know how my sitting there mute with glazed eyes helped, but you made a decision. And then thanked me for helping you! What I am trying to communicate to you is, I love how you make me a part of your life.  I know that my opinion, or lack of one, matters to you.

 

3.Respect Her

Everything you do and say, or don't do and bite your tongue on, shows your respect and your pride in me.  More importantly in my mind it shows your trust in me.  When you were sick and going through all those treatments, you weren't afraid to show your vulnerability and give up control of things to me. You trusted me to make decisions with your doctors about your care. You trusted me to pull your teeth out of a toilet full of vomit. And if my unflinching willingness to retrieve your lost teeth didn't earn some measure of your respect then I give up.

 

4. Be Romantic

You may not be Mr. Romance in a traditional sense but you show how much you love me everyday. You open doors for me.  You get out and pump gas.  You change my car's oil and take care of routine maintenance. You do those little things around the house I ask you to do.  The big things too. You know my favorite foods, favorite bands, and favorite thing to do on a lazy Sunday. You hold my hand when we walk. You kiss me just because you're walking by. And you have never let a day go by without telling me "I love you".

 

So honey, there it is. You don't need to do anything special to make me feel better. You're already doing it each and every day. I couldn't love you more.

 







General Maintenance

Unemployed Log:  Entry dated 20130212:  Location Bedroom

When you're home all day life takes on a different pace than you are used to.  To keep myself from falling into bad habits, i.e. sleeping in until noon and wearing a bathrobe all day, I have to give myself a daily goal or task.  Today I am watching our neighbor's son after school.  He's 6 and has way more energy then I do.  So in preparation I made of list of things for him to do.

1. Have lunch
2. Rake yard
3. Clean Gutters - don't worry I'll hold the ladder for him
4. Vacuum out my car
5. Play video games
6. Build Lego Fortress

Those last two items are really just for me.  After all I am not sure he'll be done with the gutters by the time his mom gets home.

I've been trying to keep my skills sharp while I am between jobs.  This weekend the prime opportunity to use my contract negotiation skills came up.

Initial contact with potential sub contractor
Me: Hey Will, I have a job for you.
Will:  Not interested.
Opening negotiations
M: I'll pay you
W: Keep talking.
Defining scope of work
M: I need you to clean the living room.  You know sweep the floor, pick up the books etc.
W: Isn't that your job?
M: I am subcontracting it out.  Come on, $5.
Walking into the living room, W : There's nothing in here.
Settling terms and contractual obligations
M: So it'll be easy, pick up the blanket and pillow you left out here.  Put the books away, sweep the floor and clean out under the couch. What do you say?
Rolling his eyes, W: Fine $5.
M: Deal, and don't forget under the couch.

7 minutes later

W: I quit!

M: You can't quit we had a deal.
Receipt of change request

W: Deal did not include cleaning up cat puke.
Negotiation of change request

M: Yes it did.  The deal included cleaning up under the couch and if there's cat puke under the couch you have to clean it up.

W: That's like hazardous duty.  You need to pay me a lot more then $5.

M: How much more?

W: Like a million more.  You know I hate cat puke.
Rejection of change request

M: Too bad, it's part of deal you don't do it and you don't get paid.
Breech of contract

W: That's fine, have you seen my bank account?  I don't need your $5.

Crap, I  forgot the kid has almost has much money in savings as I do.  I need my other, perpetually broke, subcontractor Jonathan.  So I cleaned up the cat puke, but I kept my $5 and he'd cleaned the rest of the room so I think I won this round. Next time I'll add liquidated damages to my contract terms.

I am in a quandary.  Everyday I am looking through job listings, and there aren't too many out there in retail construction management.  I see lots of IT project management openings though.  An area I have no experience with outside of school.  Managing a project is essentially the same whether it's building a store or a piece of software, but I am still hesitant to apply for a PM job in an IT industry.  So I have been thinking about taking a PMP course and then sitting the exam.  If I pass I'll be more qualified for any type of PM job and probably get paid more.  Do I wait and see if I can't find something in the area I have the most experience?  Or do I branch out?

Dispatches From The Unemployed

Unemployed Log:  Entry date 20130208:  Location, Under the kitchen table.

There is a horrible smell to the left of me. I am combat crawling, working myself around the dining room chair legs and closer to it's source.  When I woke up this morning the Beatles's Ob La Di Ob La Da was playing in my head, now all I can hear is my internal Yoda.  "Find it, you will.  Kill it, you must."  I shove aside one more chair...Oh Sweet Holy Hell!

How did I end up here?  Well when I wasn't looking another round of layoffs was announced and this time my name made it onto their list.  To be honest after surviving four of these in the past five and a half years I kind of thought I was immune.  Should have gotten my booster shot.

Being home all day isn't really so bad.  My domestic skills needed bushing up on anyway.  I can now make perfect Individual Shepard's Pies.  I have also made Baked Chicken with a Cheddar Herb Crust, and Lasagna Rolls.

Yum!

Also, the laundry is all caught up, including William's.  I have shut down the stray sock breeding ground that was under his bed and have successfully shown him that he does indeed own more then 3 pairs of underpants.  You don't want to know where I found the other 11 pairs.

The weather is still wet and dreary so I am stuck with inside gardening.  I made this terrarium on Monday.

 

This morning I thought I should try my hand at window washing.  They make it look easy in the Windex commercials. Spray bottle in hand I saw we were out of paper towels.  Plan B, newspaper. Somewhere in the cobwebs of my memory I unearthed the notion that someone, at some time told me you should use newspaper to clean your windows.  Outside I dug through the recycle bin and came up empty.  Then, out of the corner of my eye I saw a small splash of bright yellow.  Score!  The Covington Reporter is wrapped securely in it's yellow plastic bread bag and has probably been sitting on our front porch for several days.  (Domestic skills are rusty, remember?) Newspaper secured I headed back inside to tackle those windows.

 

Ten minutes later my hands are black, there are bits of newspaper stuck onto the sliding glass door and I am chasing my cat around the house because she thought the newspaper made an wonderful cat toy.  I shooed her outside so I could pick up the pages of newspaper she'd swatted and slid all around the kitchen and hallway and turned my thoughts to Plan C, rags.  Everyone has rags right?  My grandmother had bits of my grandfather's old underpants.  My mom had old cloth diapers from when my brother was a baby. I have.....nothing.  Washcloths and kitchen towels I soon found equaled linty streaks as far as the eye could see.  I am here to tell you folks that lint on a slider door is the reason why God gave us hair dryers. 

 

Windows done I left the door open to air out smell of Windex (Fresh Breeze my left butt cheek) and to let the cat know it was safe to come back inside. 

 

It's a little know fact, but cats, for all their aloofness know when they are in trouble.  And that is why I now found myself on my kitchen floor face to face with a headless mouse.  The kitty cat version of an apology gift.  When I am out buying paper towels, I'll be stocking up on vodka as well.