My Heart is Sick in Bed

My heart is sick in bed
My smile is upside down
I am so sorry
Please forgive me!!

This note was left on my pillow by Gracie, after she nearly drove me over the edge with a clothes tantrum. Even for her, the tantrum was impressive (not to mention long). My friend Maryanna can attest to its power, because I called her in desperation, looking for some sort of magical parenting advice, minutes after a tearful Gracie got on the bus. (Yes, she got on the bus crying. Very pathetic, I know - but crying about having to wear dumb old regular old pants - not quite as heart-wrenching, is it?)

In case words alone weren't dramatic enough, she actually covered the note with a shred of her beloved Blanky. I have to say, when the child is remorseful, she's remorseful! I guess that's something.

It's pretty, but...


...it's not exactly what I had in mind for the MIDDLE OF THE LAWN. I'm not sure what's happened to our grass. We've got the flowering weeds invading the back yard and the front looks like someone poured gasoline all over it.

I know I'm digressing from my usual subject of children, but as long as I'm ranting about our home, call me at your own risk. It's likely that we'll both be treated to a deafening blast of static when I pick up the phone. The phone problems we experience at this house would be comical if they weren't so maddening.

First, and worst of all, there's the Poltergeist-like interference zone that seems to exist on our main level, creating a tremendous amount of static whenever we use the phone. We have tried no less than eight different kinds of phones, including digital, analog, rotary... and various phone filters. Qwest has been out and shrugged their shoulders. "The line looks OK going into the house..." (Translation: we can't fix it and/or there's a bizarre electro-magnetic forcefield in your kitchen). Using the microwave when the phone is in use is out of the question, because the static completely overpowers the call.

It's also terribly hard to hear the "low-talkers" we know on the telephone. There are a few soft-voiced folks we speak to regularly - with the phone pressed so hard against our ear that an imprint remains hours later, the other ear tightly covered to block out background noise so we can catch bits and pieces of what these whisperers say and respond accordingly.

If you've called when no one is here, you may have heard our Spanish voicemail message and thought, "How impressive! They must be bilingual!" Not so. Our voicemail message frequently switches to an automated Spanish recording on its own. Often, I don't realize it's in Spanish until someone comments about it. Then I have to call the phone company because I can't change it.

In this era of technology, this celebrated digital age, I have to draw my own conclusions about what must be happening behind the scenes on our phone line: