call me pre-Madonna

Have you tired of hearing about Geraldine and her nuttiness?  I hope that you find her antics entertaining.  These posts have proven VERY therapeutic to me, so thanks for helping me keep my therapist bills under control.  My apologies if you are annoyed by them.

At the risk of beating a dead horse . . . I will continue to share.  Just a few more tidbits.  Promise. 

Geraldine enrolled Theo in preschool near my house.  Initially she and her husband visited 10 preschools in the greater Chicagoland area.  I tried to imagine Coach taking time off work to look at a preschool. I feel like so long as the place instructs kids on sharing, introduces the alphabet, offers a clean facility, supplies a snack, and operates a well-run pickup/drop off line, then you are good to go.  

Once I alerted her to the fact that I wouldn't consider dropping Theo off at a preschool 10 miles from my home (yes, I really did have to explain that to her), Geraldine chose a preschool close to my house.  BUT the preschool didn’t include the ever-so-important pickup/drop off line.  Unthinkable.  She told me that I was going to have to unbuckle the other 3 kids I sit for from their car seats (um, let’s not forget winter months) in order to walk inside to get Theo.  I balked. 

Then she suggested that I lock the other kids in the car in the parking lot while I run in to get him.  Um, WHAT?  

I kid you not, she followed that up in an email with a sentence that went something like:  ‘The police spoke at our orientation night and wanted us to not leave our purses in the car, because there have been a lot of smash and grabs in the area in preschool parking lots as parents dash in to get their kids.’  

I informed Geraldine that I had called the police department to run her suggestion past them.  They told me under no circumstances was I to leave the kids in the car.  Duh.  

Next Geraldine had me contact the preschool myself to see what we could work out.  Why was this my problem?  Anyway the director of the preschool agreed to have someone keep an eye out for the great white.  If I pulled up to the door, someone would walk Theo out and I could hop out and buckle him into his seat.

This worked fairly well, but I felt a bit silly sitting watching other people haul tots in and out of cars to pick up or drop off a kid at the preschool.  Not a single preschool day passed without me wondering, why, oh why did these people elect to enroll in a preschool minus a pick up/drop off line.  Is is just me?  There are other preschools in the area that are just as good or better.

I looked a bit like a pre-Madonna.  Although, how many pre-Madonnas drive great whites?

the big ugly

I think you have enough background on my babysitting frustrations to grasp the magnitude of what happened in October.  I refer to it as 'the big ugly'.

There was that monumental day when Geraldine announced that they no longer wanted Theo to nap at my house.  She didn't like my response.  I think she thought up to that point that she was always going to get me to do what she wanted - above and beyond the call of babysitting.  Like:  pick her up from the airport, or put on a bathing suit and take her kid to a swim lesson while she was on maternity leave (before I had other kids to sit for).  Yeah, that happened.  Annoying!

Herein lied her confusion.  I was not her nanny.  I was sitting for her kids in my house.

In my house, nap time is an important part of the day.  If your kid isn't tired, then he won't fall asleep.  No problem.  Quiet time is a perfectly acceptable substitute for nap time.  Reboot.  Relax.  Enjoy quiet play.  Whatever.

The issue was that Theo really WAS tired.  Dog tired.  He wanted to nap.  He couldn't keep his eyes open.  I sat for Theo and Carter Monday thru Thursday.  When he was with his folks, he didn't nap.  She once told me that they couldn't get him to nap because he didn't want to.  I was flabbergasted.  Who was in charge here?  But that was back in the earlier days, when she WANTED him to nap -but she couldn't make it happen.  Huh?  At my house, I say 'nap time' and the little peeps march upstairs  while I sing a silly little song about sleep.  And they go to bed.  The end.

As we approached the days when Geraldine was leaning towards nap-elimination, Theo would show up at my house on a Monday (after spending 3 no-nap days with his folks) and his eyes would not focus.  He was dazed and confused, but mostly just flipping TIRED!!!!

On the Sunday night (leading up to the Monday morning of drop off) after Geraldine's request, I was awake half the night.  (This was the other big issue I was experiencing in the fall . . . VERY LITTLE SLEEP.  I can't remember how much I explained to all of you, but I was struggling with gluten cropping up in my food and wreaking havoc on my celiac disease.  Foods labeled 'gluten free' aren't always gluten free enough for someone with celiac.  In a word:  nightmare).

Anyway, Joey's mom was on maternity leave.  I looked at care.com regularly to see if anyone needed an interim babysitter in case I could fill Joey's spot temporarily.  In the wee hours of that morning, I did a double take when I stumbled upon a job post that seemed AWFULLY familiar.  I clicked on it and sure enough the attached photo make me gasp.

As seen on CARE.COM. 
Only I could see their family picture
quite clearly despite my bleary-eyed
lack of sleep condition!

It was a picture of Geraldine, Simon, Theo, and Carter.  They were looking to hire a babysitter.  Preferred the sitter watch their boys in her own home.  Four days a week.  Looking for someone to take them on fun outings, etc.

I was shocked.  The first time in over 2 years that things hadn't gone the way Geraldine wanted and she was going to pull her kids from my care?  The school year had just begun - teachers (who I typiaclly sit for) were going to be all squared away with sitters.  I potty trained Theo.  I dealt with her nonsense.  Two years of her telling me how thrilled she was with my care.  Really?

All because she wanted to put her kid to bed super early at night.  Napping made him stay awake past 7.  She told me she typically put him to bed at 7, but if he napped (even abbreviated naps that I woke him up from) he wouldn't go right to sleep.  He was 4 years old at the time.  Why so early?  Well, we know a nightly bath was out of the question.

Coach wakes up crazy early to go to work on Mondays.  He woke up and found me pacing.

Miss Manners strikes again

Remember when we had a nasty stomach bug go thru our house at Halloween?  Well, technically, it went thru us while we were staying at my folks' house, because our floors were being done.  As a result it also went thru my mom.

There are a lot of links in that paragraph.  Links to some good memories.  Maybe if you are tried of reading about Geraldine and her wacky parenting/bad manner ways, you can read up on the eventful fall that we had.

Anyway, Geraldine arrived at my parents's house to pick up Theo and Carter on October 30th.  Not only were my parents housing us, they had to deal with the tots I sit for too.  My initial plan was to have them at the library or zoo as long as possible, so they weren't under foot in my parents' house.  Then I felt compelled to stick around because Mini was sick.  My parents have white carpeting and Waterford crystal floor lamps.  Not sure how that all survived 22 grand-kids, but I was going to make damn sure that the tots I dragged over there were not responsible for trashing their house.

When Geraldine walked in, I told her that Mini had come home from school a little early because she was throwing up.  'Let me know what you want to do about tomorrow,' I asked her point blank.  I texted her later to let her know that Mini was STILL puking.  I was comfortable watching her kids, but I wasn't sure she would want to drop them off at a germ infested house knowing a kid was home puking.

Here we have Curly sleeping
on the basement floor
after her stomach bug
kept her up all night.

Geraldine was not phased by the puke.  She still planned to drop her boys off.

If you read the flash-back links above, then you remember that I ended up puking as did Eddie, and my Mom.  My other kids gracefully waited until we were back in the house that wreaked of freshly stained floors before they started to puke.

Geraldine texted me after she picked her kids up the day I had gotten sick (on myself, in my car, driving home from a much-anticipated Gastroenterologist appointment.  Just saying).  Knowing that members of the family were sick and that her kids had been around us ALL DAY, she wondered if my family had gotten flu shots.  What?

We hadn't.  She texted back that she thought her family would be vomit-free because they had gotten their flu shots.  Weak as I was, I still managed to text her back.

'A stomach bug is not the same thing as the flu.'  (I wanted to type 'Dumb-ass', but I restrained myself).

When she arrived at our house on Monday, she had to - JUST HAD TO - tell me that she, Theo, and her husband Simon had all gotten the stomach bug.  I wanted to shake her.  Who does that?

Who makes the choice to leave their kids at a sitter's house knowing someone there is sick, AND THEN shares with the sitter that her family had the misfortune of getting sick?!

This all happened after the terrible awful nonsense that cropped up earlier in October.  Looking back I wish I had ceased sitting for them, but dang they offer so much blogging material.

not a chia pet

Not to beat a dead horse here, but - a few more examples of what I consider nuttiness.

Not a great picture - but this is
 the lightweight, lightly lined
 windbreaker that
Carter wore all winter.
 Another way to tell it isn't a
winter coat - he is wearing
 it in April in this picture. 
No hoodie under it.  

Chicago winters are cold.  Geraldine buys used clothing for her boys.  A practice I am not opposed to - just not shoes.  She also is a happy recipient of hand me downs from her sister's son.  I was always very grateful for hand me downs.  What's better?

So, riddle me this . . . why did Carter not wear a true winter coat ONCE the entire winter this past year?  He was 2 1/2.  He wasn't bundled up in those handy car seat cover things.  He has an older brother.  He has an older cousin.  Where oh where were the winter coats that should have been available to him?

Geraldine dressed him in a wind breaker with a little white cotton lining.  I know there are amazing new-age winter coats that are made of thinsulate, etc.  Those things always baffle me.  Can a coat really be warm if it isn't puffy?  What can I say, I grew up in the 80's.  At any rate, Carter's coat was not new-age.  It was literally a windbreaker.  Not intended to be worn in below zero weather.

I was scolded by a man at Walmart once because he thought Carter was my kid and I had dressed him improperly for the weather.  I didn't disagree with him.  Uncool.


Carter wore a hoodie most days - as part of his wardrobe.  An undershirt.  A hoodie.  A windbreaker.  My kids often wear sweatshirts or sweaters in the winter.  I don't count that as part of their outerwear.  They are still bundled up in a winter coat, because last time I checked:  we live in Chicago.

On an unseasonably warm day in January, I took the kiddos to the zoo.  It was barely drizzling.  The air was misting - a bit.  It was awesome because it should have been so cold.  I couldn't pass up a trip to the zoo.  We walked around outside.  I posted photos as usual to the group page so the moms and dads I sit for can see us out having fun.

When she picked up later that day, Geraldine said, 'Well we better put your hood on.  We don't want you to get your hair wet.'  Maybe I read too much into it, but it seemed like an odd thing to say.  It seemed passive aggressive.  It wasn't like a downpour, and have I mentioned the warm temperatures?

It was like 60 degrees out.  She was concerned that their hair might get wet while taking 6 steps to get to her car.  WHY???  Carter regularly wanders the Chicago-land area in nothing but a windbreaker on a crazy-ass cold day, but on a balmy day in January she doesn't want his hair to get damp (it couldn't even achieve wet status, because it was barely MISTING OUT).  I was at a loss.

Pardon the grossness.  I believe
strongly that parents should still take care
of their kids basic needs like bathing
and blowing their noses BEFORE
dropping them at my house.

Maybe she thought they would catch a cold.  That is an inside joke that you won't get until I explain that her kids would have horrid colds and they would go on for weeks.  No doctor appointment.  No nothing.

For real - she handed me this
 bag of chia seeds.  I know there
 are kids who are worse off, but a mom
who doesn't bathe her kids (and has
 the resources to do so) or take
her kid to the doctor or dress
them for the weather is a sucky mom. 

She didn't bother to blow their noses before they arrived at my house in the morning during these weeks-long colds.  You know how a stuffed up nose drains in the morning.  Hey, if those kids have time to watch cartoons all morning, then take a moment to parent them and BLOW THEIR DAMN NOSES!  They would sit down to eat breakfast and sneeze and voila 6 inches of snot would hang off of their faces.  If I had a kid with a cold that went on for more than 10 days without noticeable improvement, I took them to the doctor.


I once told Geraldine that I thought it was time that Theo have his constant runny poop/diarrhea checked by a doctor.  He still had accidents because it happened so fast, or he would have to make frequent visits to the bathroom.  Months went by.  One day she showed up with a zip loc bag with what looked like dirt in it.  'I listened to a podcast about runny poops.  They suggested chia seeds.  We'd like you to sprinkle these on his food at breakfast and lunch.  We are hoping it helps bulk up his stool.'  Again.  At a loss.

Credit to Amazon for the photo of the Chia Pet.

This isn't a chia pet. 
 This is your kid.

natural progression AFTER a toilet topper?

Like the kitchen nonsense, I have kept this bottled up for too long.  It was just hard to know where to start.  I mean, I love the big boy chap-stick story, but there are so many other top-notch tales - oh, this is the same woman responsible for casting the wide net for a teen sitter.  This is one of my favorites:

Potty training 101.  Um, I am going to throw it out there.  I am a master at potty training.  If you are envisioning me taking a bow, then you are right on the money.  My kids were all trained by the time they were 18 months.  Well, maybe that was more me being trained and offering them constant reminders - but they knew what the expectation was.  Prior to age 2 it wasn't even a thought process.  They were trained.  

I have used my skills to get the kids in my care in the habit of using the potty, too.  Theo was turning 2 when he first came here in fall of '15.  Geraldine mentioned to me that they occasionally put Theo on the potty before his bath and he sometimes peed.  I created the habit after he ate and at nap time.  No brainer.  I was changing his cloth diaper anyway.  He got the hang of the pee pretty quickly.

The kid wouldn't poop on the potty.  Over Christmas break, Geraldine worked at training him to do it.  She texted me that she had a toddler potty that she was planning to leave at my house for Theo to use.  Great.  That plan worked.  

I will share that this kid tended to be on the loose side.  ALWAYS.  Once his gut started to hurt he told me he had to get to the potty.  Timing was a little dicey.  Thanks to his runny issues - he didn't always make it.

Towards the end of the school year, Geraldine informed me that they were trying to get Theo to start using the big potty more.  It hadn't occurred to me that the little potty was probably ready to be retired.  It made sense.  I stuck the little potty out in my garage.  

Geraldine failed to mention that Theo REFUSED TO POOP ON THE BIG POTTY.  I thought she was just taking a gradual approach.  I didn't recognize that her kid had an unhealthy attachment to the tot potty.  I was only watching her boys 3 days a week at the time, so it didn't dawn on me that Theo NEVER pooped on the big potty.  

The day the tot potty moved out to my garage, Theo told me that he had to poop.  I put him on the big potty and he peed.  Then he announced that he didn't have to poop.  When Geraldine picked him up, he was anxious to get home.  Apparently he was holding it in, so he could use his little potty.  

She called me later to question why I had put the little potty in the garage.  Theo had ratted me out for something that I considered standard operating procedure.  She explained his 'issue.'  Oh, brother.  I asked her how they ever went anywhere.  'We wait until after he has pooped to leave the house, because he usually goes in the morning.' 

Why was I surprised that these fools had allowed this to happen?  He had been potty trained for several months - like close to 6 months.  

Credit to Target for image of toilet topper.
 This one doesn't fold. 
Use your imagination and
then guess how bummed I
 am that I don't have one of these
things stuffed in my purse.

The next day Geraldine called me from Target.  'Um, so I am looking at toilet toppers and I wondered if you would like me to get one for you.'  Such a generous offer, it was hard to turn down,  First of all, what the Hell is a toilet topper.  Apparently it could fold up and I could keep it in my purse so that I could put it on a big toilet.  It was her hope that Theo would be more comfortable with it.  Hard, 'NO!'

I told her to stop.  No toilet toppers.  No little pottys.  Just stop.  Tell him he needs to use the big potty.  The end.  He will never go to preschool if this continues.  

Credit to 'You tube' for the photo.

At my house over the next few days, I offered Theo LOTS of grapes at lunch.  I instructed my kids to perform jumping jacks with him in the family room after school.  As soon as he got the urge, his face got very stressed out.  He would try to get into a head stand position.  Butt up - keep the poop in, I imagine was his thought process.  

Eventually he had no choice.  To quote the bride in the movie bridesmaids after getting food poisoning, 'It's happening!'  Theo was sad about it, but I was large and in charge.  'You are sitting on the potty and pooping like the big kids.  Nothing to cry about.'  

And that, is how Theo began to poop on the big potty.  Hold the toilet topper and the mother enabler to the side please and let the expert take over.  

words to live by: I DIDN'T WANT TO DO IT AND I SHOULD HAVE JUST SAID NO

A few more notes worth mentioning before I get to the big ugly:

1.  Geraldine texted me in Sept of '16 and asked me if the Love's could use their backup sitter, so that she could bring her sick children to my house.

This was my second year of babysitting, and I had added the Love family.  (that link is totally unrelated to this story except that the germ baby in this case was Joey Love).  Mr. Love was a PT with Coach.  The mom a teacher.  We were at their wedding and they were excited when they learned that I was babysitting.  In the fall of '16, I eagerly agreed to watch 16 mo old Joey (whose parents hated their daycare) along with Theo and Carter.  Sweet baby Bailey, Joey's little sister joined the gang in Jan '18 after her mom's maternity leave.

Anyway, Geraldine WASN'T supposed to bring sick kids to my house.  She knew that the Love's had grandparents who COULD help them out, but the Love's certainly didn't want to use up their 'help-us-out' card with their grandparents needlessly. The nerve.

2.  Gerladine got stuck in a snow storm visiting a friend out east.  She texted me late on a Sunday night (1/8/17) and asked me to pick her and Carter up from the airport the next day, because their Sunday flight was cancelled.  I remember the date because the next day was Reggie's birthday.  I was relying on nap time to make his birthday meal.

I would still have Theo, who was in town with pushover-dad.  The pickup was in the middle of nap time and my high school kids had one last day of Christmas break left.  They agreed to stay with sleeping Theo while I drove to the airport.  I DIDN'T WANT TO DO IT AND I SHOULD HAVE JUST SAID NO.  (words I now live by).  Coach heckled me over this and was like, 'Oh, you can do that.' .  . . so, by the way, can an Uber driver.  It boiled my blood, but I did it.

I jogged to Midway, grabbed her and Carter, stopped off at my house, loaded up Theo (who was with my teens- Geraldine never paid them for watching sleeping Theo - my boys didn't care, but to me it was a sign of utter inconsideration), and then drove them to their house.

On my way back to my house, I called the library because I realized it was the story time sign up day.  I was at a stop light.  I didn't have the bluetooth car, because I needed the big van for the carseats.  'Can I sign up over the phone or is it all online now?'  I could do it over the phone, Ms. Library told me.  The light changed.  I was on my phone.  For a moment.  I got pulled over.  I GOT ANOTHER TICKET, PEOPLE!!!!  I had been ticket free for, well, like several months.  Geraldine didn't increase my pay for the out-of-the-way-airport-shuttle service.

This is on of many dirty hair days.  

3.  Geraldine admitted to me a few months ago that she only bathes her kids about twice a week.  TWICE A WEEK!  Theo wipes himself.  These are boys.  They get dirty.

One day the boys showed up and Carter's hair was still full of the food that had been in his hair the day before.  I honestly considered skipping our scheduled outing because he looked dirty.  I didn't want people to think he was my kid.

I may not have worked out of the home when my kids were young, but I don't think I would've sacrificed the 10 minutes it took to bathe them.  Um, she has two kids.  I managed to bathe 6 - no matter how busy I was.  Besides, she picks the boys up at 4:00.  Plenty of time to give a bath before bed.  Theo liked to tell me about the movies he would watch when he got home from my house (after not watching TV at my house the entire day!) - but no time for a bath?  I can count on one hand how many times my kids missed a bath - EVER.  Seriously.

never wake a sleeping baby vs race to the door

Babysitting for Theo and Carter wasn't all bad.  They listened to me.  Dealing with their folks and their unique 'style' of parenting, again a term I use loosely, was a struggle.

An ongoing issue for YEARS that almost made my eating-their-breakfast-trying-to-mind-their-own-business kids lose their appetite, was the door dilemma.  Once Carter could walk, Theo struggled because Carter might run to the garage door and open it BEFORE Theo.  Imagine the lawlessness of it all!!!

Geraldine and her equally walk-all-over-me-please husband Simon tried to 'fix' Theo's issue.  They promised him that he would open the door the next time.  They would bring him back out to the garage so that he could open it himself.  There were other tactics.  It was mind-blowing.

My approach, since Theo was now over 3 years of age:  'Oh well, that's life.'  This is how I ended up with kids who didn't cry if they didn't get the coveted (insert favorite color here) cup at meals.  Cry all you want, kid.  Not gonna change anything.  This was still happening on one of the last days of this school year when Theo was well over 4 and a half years old!!!!  I thought Coach was going to blow a gasket one morning in June when it happened AGAIN.

Hey, I am NOT a perfect parent.  Remember:  my kids are far from perfect.  They keep a gross bathroom.  They forget that this isn't a college dorm.  But for heaven's sake.  This toddler stuff is elementary, right?

Of course, Theo could've been crying about the door thing because he was TIRED.  When he was 3 1/2 his folks asked me to start waking him up.  They decided that if his naps at my house went too long, he struggled to go to sleep at night.  I did that.  I started limiting how long his naps were.  He was dazed and confused, and sometimes tearful because he still wanted to sleep when I woke him.  It felt a little nutty. What's that saying, 'Never wake a sleeping baby'?

Joey, Carter, and Theo playing
at an awesome nature center. 
Sometimes it was a struggle to
 keep them awake
 in the car on the way home.
 How do you go from that to no naps?

I wore these kids out.  We did stuff.  The park, the zoo, the forest preserve place with an awesome hands-on nature learning center.  (same place I called when the raccoon issue arose, 'member?)  We kept busy.  Nap time was essential.

In the fall Theo turned 4.  He was a premie, mind you.  A tiny kid.  My Laddie was a huge kid, but napped thru kindergarten.  Eddie was done napping (much to my chagrin) by the time he was about 2 1/2.  They are all different.  No rhyme or reason.

Anyway, Geraldine announced to me one day at pick up that they decided that they didn't want Theo to nap anymore.  My response, 'Oh, well there will always be nap time at my house.  I mean, we can make it quiet time for Theo.  I can give him some quiet toys and books to look at in the room he usually naps in.'

Geraldine had no poker face.  She was NOT in agreement with me on this.  After she left, I called my friend and fellow babysitter, Caroline.  Caroline was on the same page as me.  'I would've said the same thing to her.  Nap time or quiet time.  Call it what you want.  Still part of the program.  No way around it.'

After that, things took an interesting turn.

I guess that's what they are calling it nowadays

I tried working outside our home.  I substitute taught.  I also worked for 3 years as an advancement director at a Catholic grammar school.  My take on the Catholic school administration thing (my kids once went to a different Catholic School from the one I worked in and we switched to public school, so I have experience with more than one of these places) - everyone has their own agenda.  No one is on the same page.  Communication sucks.  Why not stay home and be frustrated (and be slightly poorer, but only slightly)?

My kids would call me to say they forgot their lunch, or they missed the bus, or they couldn't find something.  I would arrive home to find our garage door up, the milk out, and the kitchen a disaster.  When I wasn't trying to read the minds of the powers that be at Saint-This-Place-Is-Full-of-Politics, I was stuck in traffic and racing to beat the school bus home.  Yes, this is where I scored my first of the string of tickets that caused me to lose my license for 7 weeks.

Three years ago in Sept '15, I started to babysit for a kid named Theo while his mom worked in a school  (I realize after looking back at older posts I am sharing that I sometimes refer to her as Gretta and sometimes I refer to her as Geraldine - same nutty parent different alias).  I found the parents a bit odd.  Understatement of the year.  She was about to have baby Carter.  After her maternity leave, I was watching both of her boys three days a week the first year and four days a week the two years after that.

I took this photo in Sept of '16. 
He had already worn
them EVERYDAY the school year
 before.  What kid fits in the same
 shoes for over a year? 
These people were not destitute.
They both have decent paying jobs.
 Just cheap.
 Buy your kid a pair of shoes!

Theo wore thread barren shoes.  The same pair for well over a year, and they were used when he started to wear them.  What 2 year old can fit in the same shoes for over a year?

Eventually my physical therapist husband informed her that she should be buying him new shoes.  She was prone to used shoes.  Used shoes might be okay for special occasion/single use shoes, but not a great idea for a kid who is a new walker who needs support, etc.

She used cloth diapers.  I rolled with it.  She wanted me to change Theo into pajamas for his afternoon naps.  I went along with that for a few weeks, and then I ceased the wardrobe change for a 2 year old's nap.

The list of weirdness is fairly endless.  She spoke to Theo and eventually to Carter in a way that made me cringe.  I hear parents at the grocery store talk like this, and it is all I can do to stop my old-school self from correcting them on the spot.  When Theo tried to interrupt her when she was talking to me during pick up one day, she squatted down and made him feel valued.  I guess that's what they are calling it nowadays..  In a sickly sweet voice, she told him, 'I hear what you are saying and I am sorry you are sad.  I am almost done talking to Ernie.  I know that you are ready to go home, and I will be ready in another moment.  Thank you for your patience.'

A finger (NO, not that finger - I'm not that bad), raised up in the kid's direction would have been all my kids needed to understand that they needed to wait a minute.  Geraldine was like that though - never interested in upsetting the youngster.  Offering long, squeaky explanations where I felt none was necessary.  Bending over backwards to make Theo's needs met.  'Needs' a term I use loosely.

Memory - sometimes we play it and sometimes we don't.  

Is the game 'Memory' a need?  One day Geraldine showed up just as we had set up a game of memory.  Theo was not happy.  Geraldine texted me the next day with her ETA.  She wanted to allow us enough time for memory.  Newsflash:  just because a game works one day, doesn't mean I have time for it the next day.  Curly had homework and I was finishing my dinner prep so that we could bolt for our soccer games that night.  I did NOT jump thru that memory-game- hoop and force a quick game to appease both mother and son.  Not the way the cookies crumbles, people.

I promise this leads somewhere . . .

not much - but enough to make me crazy

Tank and I walked out to the car.  The cops were nice.  They came over to my great white van a minute later where I was waiting to pull into traffic.  I told them that if I lived closer I would be driving here regularly and heckling potential clients, 'Don't go in there!'  They said that wasn't a good idea, and they assured me that the place was usually empty anyway.

Fridge drawers with cabinet covers that
won't stay on.  Hard to
open a drawer without the
panel because there is no handle.

I broke down a bit when I described my full life and how this has become an exhausting process.  The cop felt bad about what I was going thru.  He asked me how much of the job was left.  'Not much,' I admitted.

Things could be worse.  The flunkies could have stopped showing up back when we didn't have running water, or before the cabinets were in.  It isn't like the kitchen is only a third of the way done.  The thing is that I feel duped.  The fact that all those last little pieces of the job aren't getting done is crazy frustrating.

This happened the end of May.  It is now July.  JULY.  It is time consuming to call around and try to piece together the last bits of the kitchen.  I feel like we spent way too much on the job for me to be trying to figure out what is left to do and who is going to do it.  A guy, who came highly recommended, was going to work on a custom hood for us.  He set up a few appointments in mid June, but never showed and now won't return my calls.  Maybe one custom hood is too small a job for him.

Bathroom.  I was planning to do a
gray color in there.  Coach thinks
it would be easier to just
use the same color.
 And cheaper.

I still have to figure out someone to measure and order the barn doors.  Coach's approach is like, 'Do we NEED those?'  See, that is the other issue.  Coach is willing to throw his arms up and call it a day on lots of things - like the paint in the bathroom.  'Just leave it the color it is, because we probably still have the paint color.'  This is why I was working with what I thought were professionals.  So I didn't have to go thru Mr. It-Looks-Fine-To-Me.

We take pictures of everything.  When things aren't completed or when they are done incorrectly, we are scrambling to redo things or find someone who knows how to do what we need.  For instance, the cabinet panels to the fridge drawers in the mini-island snack bar thing won't stay attached.  We are now going to pay the appliance store that sold us the panel-ready appliances to re-attach the panels.

Ah, a completed deck.

The main two cabinets over the dishwasher don't open at the same time.  If I am unloading dishes from the dishwasher, then a kid cannot open the adjacent cabinet with the cups in it at the same time.  I described this issue to the cop that day when he stood at my car.

No spacer between these cabinets.  The
 doors buckle and then pop
 open and whack together if they
are both attempted to open at the same time.

He said it sounded like they failed to put in a spacer between the cabinets.  I would guess that self-taught didn't put the necessary spacer in the drawings.  I had been telling flunkies since December that those cabinets weren't working right.  Flunkies just kept shrugging and saying that is how the cabinets were made.  They knew damn well that they hadn't hung them with the proper spacer.  Hell, the cop figured that out without even having seen the kitchen.  This isn't a Home Depot kitchen, damn it.  All of the cabinets should open properly.

See how close the cabinets are. 
Needed a spacer.  To add one now would
involve taking these cabinets down
and would impact the crown molding, etc.
$$$$$$

Our neighbor-lawyer has been a huge help to us.  He drew up the paperwork to have the contract terminated.  When I emailed Paulie to let him know that our lawyer was drawing up the contract termination papers, he emailed back.  He wrote that he would be gathering information on us.  As if.  Like he was going to sue us or expose us as the crazy people who made it impossible for him to do his work.  That email was rewarded with a half a chuckle.

Oh how I wish that this industry wasn't SO impossible to regulate.  I have heard many, many stories about jobs dragging on longer than humanly possible.  Horrible work.  Terrible communication.

Coach and his dad completed our deck in time for Mini's graduation party.  It ended up raining for the entire day, so the deck wasn't needed but it looked great.  It is also no longer the home to raccoons.

Coach has a patient who builds.  We used his plumber to install the gas line that needed to be put in before the deck was finished.  This patient has agreed to finish the kitchen for us, if we get him the materials.  I did locate and order the tile that we needed to complete the back-splash behind the stove top.  I am hoping that this other guy will come and look at our hood issue SOON.

Baby steps.

Oh yeah, Tank created a fake email address.  Under 'Connie Burn' - something he likes to say - Con and burn.  Not sure what the heck it means but it has something to do with 'in your face, I just burned you'.  He wanted me to email all the people whose emails I took note of in the office.  He was like 'The fake email account is tied to my cell phone, Mommy, so they can't trace it to you.'  Hmmm, not quite.  I ditched my initial plan to send out an email.  I did blast the flunkie company on Yelp though.

See, this is why it took me so long to write about.  Do you feel drained?  I do.  At least I had my 'yippee ki yi mother beeper' moment when Babs left us alone in the showroom.

like a kid in a candy store, plus cops

Tank and I looked at each other wide-eyed.  We were alone in the flunkie contractor's office.  I couldn't make this stuff up if I wanted to.  Totally bazaar.

Tank immediately walked thru the office to see if we were in fact alone.  We were.  I tested out a tall file cabinet.  It was unlocked.  I glanced around at papers on various counters and desks.  I felt like a kid in a candy store - only I didn't know what was candy and what was poison.

Babs poked her head back into the door about 6 minutes later.  I jumped.  I was standing in front of the tall file cabinet jotting things down on a notepad.  'Um, just be sure you lock up when you leave,' she requested.  WHAT?  What would I lock up with?  I didn't have a key.  Obviously.  What kind of crazy job security does this chick have?  Are these people all on drugs? 

I texted Paulie immediately.  'We are alone in your office.  Babs left.'  He texted back in record time.

He was definitely sweating.  Tank called out, 'Don't respond to him.'  Oh, I had no intention of responding.  I hoped he would show up at his showroom.  I had some things I wanted to say to his face.  Of course, I hadn't threatened anyone.  

I started jotting down names from a file that I found in the file cabinet.  This was a file of prospective clients.  These people wanted Paulie to get back to them, or start their job, or give them a quote.  I so wanted to send an email and warn them.  'Go with another contractor.  You're welcome.'

Then we started snapping pictures with our phones.  It was faster.  There was an invoice from a plumber.  Snap.  Attached was a bright colored sticky note.  'Plumber says he won't go back to the Whelan job until he is paid for the Ryerson job.'  Interesting.  Paulie was robbing Peter to pay Paul.  As suspected, he wasn't paying his subcontractors.  This is why progress on our job had stalled so frequently.  There was also a collection notice for $1,800 from some company.  Snap.  

Long story, but I met another family via YELP who was experiencing similar issues with our flunkie contractor.  They were the Whelan family, whose job the plumber wouldn't return to until the plumber was paid.  I called up Mr. Whelan. 

'You'll never guess where I am!' I squealed into the phone.  I described the plumber invoice.  Whelan couldn't believe that Babs had bailed AND asked me to lock up.  (Whelan was the one who pointed out to me that the guy who tiled my back-splash is not in fact a tile guy.  Swell.) 

Tank kept busy removing the batteries from the clocks.  He hid their land lines.  He wanted to mess with Paulie's computer, but I pulled the plug on that.  Tempting, but no.  

Tank started to get nervous that the police would show up.  I was ready.  I had nothing to hide.  Once I hung up with Whelan, I called Coach at work.  I told him how crazy it was that Tank and I were in the office alone.  That's when I noticed that the police were getting out of their car.  'Oh, I gotta go, Coach.  The police are here.'  Coach later described the kicked-in-his-gut feeling when I informed him that the police were there and then quickly hung up.  

The cops asked what was happening.  I told them all of it.  I pointed out how crazy it was that Babs had run off, and that despite Paulie's claims, I hadn't threatened anyone.  They chuckled about the threatening part and told me not to worry about it.  I wasn't.

They called up Paulie.  The cop told him, 'I can't make people talk nice on the phone or send nice emails.  Let me know what you want us to do.  Are we going to ask Ernie to leave, or are you going to come and give her the materials that she has paid for?'  Then the cop said, 'OK' and hung up.  

He looked at me and said, 'His exact words were:  Tell her to take me to court.'

when things go from frustrating to weird

May 30th the flunkie company emailed me to let me know that they were working on addressing my list, and that I would hear back from them in 24 hours.  Hearing back and completing the work didn't sound like the same thing.  Shock.

Mini was graduating from 8th grade on Thursday the 31st.  After she attended graduation practice in the morning, she was dismissed.  Tank hadn’t made it as far as graduation practice.  Remember?  The morning before, as Mini got ready to attend the final field trip, I teased her about whether or not she thought she might start a ruckus which could lead her to getting kicked out of graduation too.  Of course we both knew there was no chance little miss straight laced was going to follow in Tank's footsteps.  

Maybe it is the time of year for us Shenanigans, or maybe it was just the year-long reno project but I was feeling antsy by lunch time.  No word from the flunkie contractor.  Life was pretty damn hectic (thanks in part to one of the families I sit for - more on that later), but I paused a moment and decided:  enough is enough.  Mini was at her friends' house.  I called her.  'If you two hang out over here, then you can babysit during nap time and I can drive to the flunkie contractor place and demand my materials.'  

This is one of the items
listed on the punch list. 
A phone jack that wasn't complete.

I did state in my email that I was coming to pick up my already-paid-for-materials on the 31st if they hadn't delivered them, so that is what I decided to do.  Action felt better than sitting around doing nothing.  Tank walked in from mowing a few lawns.  I invited him to hop in the great white van.  'You are to use your phone for video footage if it gets ugly.'  Tank was all in.  

The showroom is a 25 minute drive from our house.  I tried to remind myself that there was very little chance that this adventure would end with me walking out to my car with my barn doors, my hood, etc.  Sometimes you gotta just go for it though.

I called to let the flunkies know I was planning to be there in under an hour.  I stressed that I meant business.  Babs, the newer office manager whom I had never met, tried to tell me that this was a showroom and my stuff wasn't there.  'Oh, no problem.  Just give me the address of the storage facility.  I will go there and you can have Paulie meet me there.'  I told her I would call back shortly to get the info on where I was to meet Paulie.  I used Tank's phone to call back, because I figured Babs would be screening her calls.  She didn't know Tank's number, but she didn't answer anyway.    

Mystery wire.  No idea what this is for. 
Never asked to have this stick out of the wall
 of the buffet.  They made a hole
 in the tile to accommodate this wire. 
WHY?????

The front door was locked, but Babs office was in the store-front window, so we saw her.  I knocked HARD on her window.  She let us in.  Then it got crazy weird.  Babs asked me if I had gotten her most recent email.  She had just sent it 2 minutes before I arrived, so -no, I hadn't gotten in.  I was driving, not checking email.  Oh, that reminds me.  Before I left and while I was driving there, Paulie sent me some crazy text messages.  How interesting that all of a sudden he was trying to communicate.

Babs handed me a printed copy of the 2 page email.  It was their response to my punch list.  I requested in my punch list that they install a phone jack and explain what the other exposed wire was for.  We had only one phone jack in the plans but there are two different spots where wires jut out of the tiled walls.  No idea why.  We aren't thrilled that the tile behind the buffet has a big hole in it to accommodate this mystery wire.  Their response on this email that Babs handed me:  'contact AT&T'.  Huh?

A closer look at the mystery wire and how horrible
 the tile will look if we have it removed now.

Babs' phone rang.  She shoved the phone in my face, 'It's just a personal call.'  I told her, 'Listen (crazy lady - didn't actually say that, but it WAS implied), I don't care who is calling you.  I am going to wait here until Paulie comes and gives me my shit.'  

'I have to watch my grandchildren.  I can't stay.  I need to go,' she called as she raced out the door.  It was early - like 3:30.  Hardly quitting time in my book. 

Tank, my heavy, and I just looked at each other.  What in the world?  We found ourselves alone in the office.  ALONE.  IN. THE. OFFICE.  

T-R-O-U-B-L-E!!!

wait, you think we owe you what, and more red flags

As anticipated, the email that I dreaded stated something to the effect of:

‘We just realized that we only charged you for the baseboard in the front hall for $750.  The crown molding cost is $1,900.’  Red flag.  Why, oh why, had we allowed the previous red flags to slap us in the face and not flee from this group?!  Groan.  

I mean I KNOW why.  We just wanted the kitchen done.  And, hey- they had our money.  They had the plans, the crew, the materials, etc.  They were going to finish, right?

The woodwork had been done months ago.  I had already been billed, and I had already submitted my payment.  If they wanted to change the amount that I owed them, they were out of luck.  There were a few other pricing increases.  

We reached out to a neighbor, who is a lawyer.  He is a great guy.  He was Tank’s first lawn-mowing customer, and he was Tank’s confirmation sponsor.  He agreed to sit down with Coach and I that weekend.

The most earth shattering revelation was that Lawyer-neighbor told us that if our contractor was subcontracting out to get the work done on our job and not paying his subcontractors, then these subcontractors could take out a lien against our house.  Alarming!

If you are a regular reader here, um - thank you,
then this pic is old news.  It is just the most in-your-face
 reminder that the kitchen has not been completed.  

I drafted an email to the contractor and stated that we wouldn’t make another payment until he provided us with waivers of lien.  Lawyer-neighbor instructed me to include a date that we expected the work to be done.  If they didn’t complete the job by then, we would hire someone else and deduct the costs from what we owed them.  

Lawyer-neighbor checked over my email and then I sent it.  Just before I sent the email, the contractor sent his own email.  This email included a few of the adjustments that were glossed over in his alarming $25K email.  Now his total of what we owed was closer to what we thought we owed.  It was $13,000.  

This is probably old news too,
but this is the door to our deck. 
A bit of a struggle to walk
out there -a concern with
Mini's upcoming graduation party.  

I sent my email May 15th demanding waivers of lien and with the expectation that the work be done by May 31st.  The actual work (not including the punch list of little issues and incomplete aspects of the job):  

1.  install the hood (I have the appliance part sitting in boxes) and custom hood surround, 

2.  Put the glass doors in the two cabinets on either side of the stovetop, 

3.  finish building the deck, 

4.  and hang the barn doors that are supposed to slide in front of the recessed calendar.  

Then we waited, and we received this little gem of an email.  I do wonder if maybe the guy is on heroine.  He is MAYBE 112 pounds sopping wet and he never stops moving, plus he doesn't make sense lots of times.  Exhibit A . . .

Ernie and Coach,

As I expressed in my last e-mail, before we can move forward, it's best to resolve remaining balance extras that we need to settle as I expressed in the past several weeks.

As we are preparing more details to reply to your last e-mail, which you will have by the end of the day.

Sincerely,

-- 

Paulie

President

May 31st was quickly approaching and we had heard nothing.  I sent a follow up email clarifying what specific things needed to be complete by May 31st.  If they didn't complete the work, then we expected them to either drop off the materials that we had paid for (have an email stating this)- or we would come and pick them up.  Use your imagination to see where this is headed . . . that is a challenge, but trust me - not in your wildest dreams . . .   

Where to begin: filling you in on what we hoped would be an ending?

Coach likes to pretend he is going to
 sweep his pile right down this
opening to the heating/ac duct.

Where to begin?  So the addition/kitchen remodel started close to a year ago.  The kitchen looks great, except for the gaping space where the hood should go, the lack of glass doors in two of the cabinets, the cabinet panels that are falling off or our appliances, the hole in the base of the cabinet where there should be a vent, and. . . well - I could go on. 

It is ALMOST done, but not quite.  The process has been long and frustrating.  There have been ENTIRE months when NO ONE showed up.  Communication was horrid.  I couldn’t get in touch with ANYONE from the group for several weeks back in December/January.  I started to think they had gone bankrupt.

That is my little snack bar area
complete with fridge drawers
 with cabinet covers
that don't stay on.  I now
 have to pay someone else
 to come and attach the cabinet
 doors properly.
Note the red solo cup.
Anarchy.  Our children
refuse to reuse the colored
cups they have been assigned.

Old news.  No hood.  No glass cabinet doors.

On April 30th the contractor emailed to let us know that we owed him $25,000.  The body of the email detailed a charge for $1,900 and a charge for less than a thousand.  I wasn’t understanding the math.  How was he getting those two numbers to add up to 25K?  He wanted us to send a payment before he continued to do work on the kitchen.  I almost fell off my chair at the computer.  According to my calculations, we owed him closer to $10,000.  

I waited until after I hosted Mini’s confirmation dinner on May 1st, and then I called the office.  ‘Is this a typo?  Has someone added a zero?’  The office person spoke to the owner’s daughter, the self-taught kitchen designer.  She came back to the phone and assured me that Self-taught thought it was a mistake.  

I relaxed until I got the next email.  No, they still felt I owed them close to $25,000.  They did apologize for the run on sentence and the horrible math in the earlier email.  Can you say unprofessional?  Who sends an email with bad math and a lack of a sentence?!

In this email, they listed the payments that they had received from me.  The $7,000 payment I made in February wasn’t included.  I called the bank and got a copy of the cancelled check.  Then I emailed the contractor to let them know they had failed to give us credit for the 7K. 

I told Coach that night that the contractor would probably start adding additional fees to our bill.  I suspected that he just wanted to collect a certain amount of money from us, whether we owed it or not. 

Guess what?  That is exactly what happened.     

Hi Ernie,

I apologize for missing the $7,000 payment you made.  I had just come on board and during the transition the books were not as accurate as they should be.  (HELLO - RED FLAG!!!)

I have attached the revised statement.  Upon further reviewing the extras, we have found that the crown molding in the front hallway, door casing for the front door, as well as the baseboard and base shoe was not included in the extra sheet in the amount of $1,980.

There was also the pricing for the additional new crawlspace decorative semi-custom door for $592 which was overlooked.

Your job description from the original order until now has changed dramatically.  (CHANGES THAT WERE NAILED DOWN BEFORE THE PROJECT EVER BEGAN!!!)  Because of these changes we believe it is beneficial for all to be on the same page moving forward. We are just as eager to complete this job as you are for us to complete it.

Sincerely,

Babs

(THE WORST) Office Manager 

The actual names have been changed in the above email to protect the idiots who work there.  They decided that they hadn't charged us enough for the baseboard and the crown molding in the front hall.  An amount I had already been billed for and paid.

Oh, there's more.

As long as we are on the topic . . .

Well now you know the truth about my Scotland trip.  Months later, I had yet another unrelated incident.  Think less itch and more pain.

It was the day of Mini's graduation party.  I had just returned from Indianapolis the day before.  Who plans a graduation party for the day after they are out of town?  Um, no comment.  I wrote down a few things I hoped Coach would do while I was gone, but I didn't REALLY think he was going to do any of it.

First of all let me point out that Coach spent hours that morning trimming the shrubs and trees in the yard.  Um, it was raining and there was no chance that our guests were going to spend any amount of time outside during the party.  At least we had a bigger space with the kitchen expansion, so we had room for people inside.

I am of the mindset that in order to throw a party the host should do as much as possible in advance - especially a host with 6 of the messiest kids in the history of kids.  I can't clean the kitchen in advance because my offspring will destroy it in one meal (I mean I think that is pretty standard), but I can dust my china hutch in the dining room, dust mop the living room, deal with stacks of paperwork on the island, and do some of the food prep in advance.

If we were going to focus on the landscaping, (and why would this be important to us for this party when it has been a tradition to overlook it for forever) then why wouldn't we, aka Coach, have focused on it a week or two in advance?  If you had spied on us that morning, you would have seen Coach in the yard drenched in sweat wrestling branches and chopping away at straggling overgrowth while I dripped in sweat racing around the kitchen.  I was trying to put some order to the house while plugging in crock-pots and calling out orders.  The boys were caddying, but Mini and Curly took orders like champs.

Less than an hour before the party, Coach ran to get ice.  That's when it happened.  I kicked it into overdrive and overdrive kicked me back - hard.

This is the light fixture. 
There are two of them over the
 island.  Notice the lack of hood
 in the background.  It is so
 frustrating I can't bring myself
to write about it.  A vi-jay-jay
story was embarrassing
but not frustrating.  

I decided to hop up on a counter height bar stool and Windex the top of the light fixtures over the island.  They honestly didn't look bad, but I was on autopilot.  I have a horrible host habit of hopping in the shower minutes before the guests are going to arrive.  I blame it on being a lefty.  I do things backwards.

I lunged forward on the island with one foot planted on the counter and wiped down the light fixtures.  Coach's first comment about the new lights over the island was that they would be hard to clean.  I told him since it might bother him and since he had the height advantage at 6 foot 4, that the lights over the island could become his job.  These lights were on the little list I jotted down as I left for Indy.  I found out later that he had already done them.  Oops.

My bigger oops, was when I stepped down off of the island.  I misjudged where I was.  I thought I was stepping sideways off of the stool and clearing the backrest.  No.  I was stepping over the backrest.  My leg might be long, but not THAT long.  I couldn't reach the ground with the backrest up in my bits.  I fell.  My crotch caught the backrest of the stool.  The stool fell.  Yep.  That sucked.

I had been trying to pace myself so that I could get in the shower at an acceptable time -  all the while I was watching my husband attack our hopeless landscaping in crummy weather.  Fortunately I wasn't writhing on the floor holding myself between my legs as guests were arriving.  I had a few spare minutes.

The scene of the accident.  No idea how
I got so disoriented that I thought that
my foot was coming off the side
 not over the back of this stool.  Duh!

The girls came running.  Mini gasped in relief, 'Wow - the way you screamed I thought something bad happened like you dropped a whole tray of pasta.'  That was an interesting perspective.  Curly moaned, 'Is it going to hurt when you have to pee?'  Good point, but I assured her that by the grace of God, I had fallen on the back of the bar stool on an angle.  My injury was directed more in the corner between my leg and my vi-gay-gay.  Later when Reggie was home, he said, 'Wow, if you were a boy you would be dead.'  Well put.

There were other bruises, but I decided I was lucky that I didn't break my arm or something.  Coach was ticked that I had been such a knucklehead.  'I already did that,' he hollered.  He acted as if him accomplishing his chores was a given.

A few guests had trickled in while I was showering.  My quick shower routine called for a bit of extra time since I needed to apply ice to the 'area'.