On Sick Kids and a Dead Battery

This has been a trying few weeks for me.  First of all, Goober, my 1 year old has been really sick.  He had a 104 degree fever for 5 days straight and it was terrifying.  All I could do was think about T as a 1 year-old in the hospital with seizures from a fever like that.  Every time Goober twitched in his sleep, I was sure it was going to turn into a convulsion.  I did not leave his side until the fever finally broke.  Thankfully, he came through unscathed, except for all the crying and sweating and chills and misery a fever brings.

Then there was the freak snowstorm.  My house didn't have damage or lose power, but my mom's house, which is right down the street, was hit pretty bad.  There were huge branches and tree limbs down all over her street, and a power line came down between her house and the neighbor's.  They still haven't fixed all the power outages or taken care of all the huge downed trees blocking some streets.

The night before Halloween, T got sick.  I thought he had food poisoning, because his dad wasn't feeling well either, and they shared a sandwich.  I was wrong.  We managed to go trick-or-treating for an hour before things got worse.  Princess was sick.  Then Goober was sick again, with another fever and whatever stomach virus everyone else had.  Now the kids are all okay, but the MIL is really sick and the boyfriend is still a little under the weather.

Then, on Friday, when I tried to take T to school for the first time since Tuesday (my mom drove him the other days because I was taking care of the rest of my sick family), my car was dead.  My dad has been telling me since last winter that I need to get a new car battery because I've been driving for 7 years with the same one.  I didn't listen, and he was right (he usually is). 

So I called my mom to come pick T up to take him to school again.  I went with her and we stopped on the way back to get a new battery.  I figured the boyfriend could change it for me, even though he still wasn't 100%. 

I didn't know that a Hyundai battery is notoriously difficult to change.  You have to unscrew half the damn bolts under the hood to get the battery loose.  And then there is another bolt by the bottom of the battery that locks is down.  It took over an hour to get most of the bolts loosened.

Then we stripped the socket wrench trying to open the battery lock (and by we, I mean me-he couldn't turn it because of corrosion so I tried and stripped it).  I walked to my mom's house to get my dad's socket wrenches, but he took them with him on his golf outing (I don't know what he could possibly need a socket wrench for while golfing).

So I borrowed my mom's car to go in search of a new one, although the boyfriend found a ratchet and only needed an extension bar.  The first store I went to was a bust.  I asked someone to help me because I wasn't seeing what I needed, and the store associate told me he would be right with me.  I waited, and waited, and waited.  Until about 4 store associates were chatting it up with each other, not helping anyone.  I left, extremely irritated.

Next I went to the automotive part of said store.  They couldn't help me because I bought my battery somewhere else but they would help if I brought my car for them to change it.  Yeah, my car is sitting in my driveway with a bunch of crap under the hood taken apart.  Unless they could teleport it, the car wasn't leaving my driveway until it was running again. And I share my driveway with a landscaping company the landlord owns, so it's always a hectic place.

Then I went to AutoZone.  It was like walking into heaven.  I was helped immediately, and when the lady didn't know much about tools, she got someone else to help me who did.  So Fernando, thank you for making it easy for me.  You found my extender bar, and when I needed a longer one, found that and an adapter so it would work.  Yes, I needed to buy a new ratchet in the process, but it was so worth it.

I am seriously buying everything car related from Auto Zone from now on.  Once I got home, the new battery was in the car and it was running in 15 minutes.  After we spent hours trying to get the old one out.  So now I'm happy.  But the boyfriend is exhausted since he wasn't feeling well to start off with.

Eight AM

Sunlight filters through the blinds.  A cat stretches languidly at the foot of the bed.  The morning news provides a background in the quiet room.

The baby rolls over, covering his face with the comforter.  His kicking feet disturb my slumber and I cover my head with a pillow.

In the crayon-blue kids' room, Daddy and daughter sleep intertwined on the beat-up beige couch.  Toddler beds lay empty as Oswald blares on the TV.

T is sprawled across Grandma's bed, wrapped up in the giant fleece blanket.  More cats jockey for position in the windows.

The quiet house stands ready for the day to begin.


This post was written in response to this week's Red Writing Hood prompt from Write on Edge.  This week we asked you to give us 8:00 -AM or PM, fiction or creative non-fiction- but 8:00. In 200 words or less.

Getting Locked Up

So, after my list of 22 things I have done last week, I couldn't help but choose to elaborate on one of them for my post this week.  Thank you, Mama Kat, for the prompt this week.

I'm going to tell you all the story of how I ended up in jail.  I always laugh (possibly at my stupidity) when I look back on it, but it's not something that traumatized me or anything.  Warning: if any subject matter that involves drugs bothers you, you probably do not want to read this.

I was 22 and living in an awful mess of a house with some guys I had only known for a few months.  I had met and started dating the boyfriend less than a week ago.  Two of the guys and I had gone to the Bronx a couple days prior to pick up some ecstasy, which we tried the night before and liked, so we were going to get more.

The boyfriend and I were sleeping it off on the futon in the living room when we were woken up by the police.  They informed us we had to get the hell out because the house was being condemned (we knew it was coming, the plumbing had been broken for weeks and the upstairs tenant left all her stuff in the apartment, including a fridge full of food and tons of dirty dishes).  We weren't sure what to do at this point.  My car had just gotten out of the shop after being stolen and crashed (that is another disaster of a story that involved more stupidity, a lot of drugs, fleeing from the scene of an accident, and sexual assault), so I did not want to drive it again to the city. 

The boyfriend (who had only been my boyfriend for 3 days at this point) offered to drive.  So he and I and our 2 friends piled into the car and set out down the Palisades Parkway to go to the city.  It was dark at this point and we lit up a blunt and smoked as we drove.  Right at the NY/NJ border, he decided to show us his fire lights (he was a volunteer fireman).  They were only on for 15-20 seconds before he turned them off.

Then we heard the sirens and saw the lights behind us.  The boyfriend pulled over right next to an exit ramp.  The police officer immediately asked him to get out of the car and questioned him out of earshot.  Another police car soon pulled up behind the first one.

My black friend was pulled out next for questioning.  He was soon cuffed and sat on the guardrail next to the boyfriend.  During this time, my latino friend asks me what he should do with the ounce of weed. I told him to stick it in the sleeve of his down jacket because maybe the police wouldn't find it then.

I was pulled out of the car next.  Needless to say, I was not nice to the officer.  He was even ruder to me after he ran my license and found out I had a prior for assaulting a police officer and was on probation.  He cuffed me and made me lean against the hood of the car, away from the guys, and in sight of his dash camera.

My latino friend was searched next.  They did not find the weed in his jacket.  He was not cuffed but told to stay against the guardrail.  A third police car pulled up and they got to work searching the car.  Apparently, at some point, my friend with the weed threw it into the ditch behind the guardrail.

After about 30 minutes, one of the cops found the weed.  We knew at this point we were screwed because we were in NJ (in NY, marijuana is decriminalized-you get a summons and a fine, not arrested).  After another 20 minutes or so,  they supposedly found acid in the car (I am fairly sure to this day that it was planted there by the 3rd cop-they searched and searched and came up empty-handed for so long.  And my boyfriend swears there was no way there could have been a stray tab of acid in the car-I believe him).

So we were packed into two police cars and taken to the nearest police station.  We spent the night there.  They only had one holding cell, and they put the 3 guys in there.  I was stuck handcuffed to a bench right next to the desk.  They kept trying to tell me to go to sleep, but that was not happening, mainly because I was chained to the bench and had to crush my handcuffed wrist if I attempted to lay down.  At one point I asked them to uncuff me since there at least 4 police officers within 5 feet of me, but that wasn't an option.

I was allowed to call my dad, and he did not believe me when I told him I was arrested.  He hung up, then called back and realized it was a police station.  Then he told me I was on my own.  My boyfriend's fire chief came to the station to tell him he was no longer a fireman and took his gear.  Then the car was impounded.

Early in the morning, we were taken to county jail.  They offered us bagels for breakfast before we left but I told them I didn't want shit from them.  Once again, I was placed by myself, but at least it was in a holding cell.

I was fingerprinted and strip searched (seriously, if you can avoid it, you do not want to be strip searched-having a burly female guard tell you to spread 'em, squat, and cough is not fun).  Then they took photos of all my tattoos for a database.

Then I had to take out all my piercings and when I couldn't get my 2nd hole jewelry out (they were stretched too at the time), they got some pliers and ripped them out of my ears (seriously, it was pyrex and I couldn't remove them-wtf was I gonna do with that?)  And taking out my first holes?  Stretched lobes are kind of gross with no jewelry in them.  I don't take them out, ever (well, unless I'm changing to another pair-I even clean them while they're in my ear).  They ended up with a whole bag full of body jewelry from me-10 total from ears, 2 from nose, 1 from lip, 2 from navel, 2 from nipples.  I looked a little like an empty pincushion when they were done.

Then I waited in another holding cell with 2 sobbing, annoying women for a few hours.  I laughed at them the whole time-seriously, you're grown and you did something to end up in jail, don't be a baby about it.  The holding cells were all glass, so I could see almost all of the men's cells.  I kept waving and blowing kisses to the boyfriend and my friends in their orange jumpsuits at the opposite end of the room.

When I got my mugshot taken, I found out my bail had been set at $12,000. Ouch.  My charges were Possession of Controlled Substances (Lysergic Acid), Possession of Marijuana Under 50 grams, and Hindering Investigation (although I am not sure what I did to hinder anyone).

I went back to my holding cell and waited for hours to go up to the main part of jail.  They gave me a nasty bologna sandwich that looked like it would give me food poisoning so I didn't touch it.

I saw the guys get taken up to jail and felt really alone for the first time.  Boy, it was only going to get worse.  I finally got taken up to the women's part of the jail.  Then I found out I was deemed a danger to others (due to the assault of a police officer on my record, which was dropped, btw, and shouldn't have even popped up in the first place).  I was informed I couldn't wear the jumpsuit and had to wear this until I could see a judge on Monday (and it was Friday).

Sorry, this was the only photo I could find of one of these

But mine wasn't nice like the photo.  The velcro was old and it kept falling off, so I was pretty much naked.  Oh, and it was cold, and I wasn't allowed to have a pillow, mattress, or sheet.  And there were windows that connected with the regular part of the women's jail, so they could all come over and gawk and me, but it was soundproof glass so we couldn't even talk to one another.

It was not a normal isolation cell.  There were 4 sets of bunks (all empty-I was the only one there) and a toilet and a shower.  Like I said, it was all totally open, and it also opened onto the guard station, so they could all easily see me.  I finally asked someone if I could at least have a suit with good velcro if I was stuck like that, but no one cared.  So I took the damn thing off and used it as a mattress and slept, totally naked with women watching me on the other side of the glass.  It was so bizarre.

My parents finally took pity on me and went to a bail bondswoman.  I was sleeping on my velcro suit when a guard woke me up by telling me that somebody loved me.  I was given a normal jumpsuit to change into and walked to a room where I got my posessions back.  I spent a bunch of time putting my piercings back in, except for the 2nd holes in my ears (which were a mess from the jewelry getting ripped out) and one nostril, which had closed up.  I changed back into my street clothes and went out to see my parents.

I saw the boyfriend's dad in the process of bailing him out (which is amazing, since his dad is never around, and screws everyone over).  He looked at me like he wanted to strangle me.  I told him to tell his son to call me as soon as he could (I was actually more concerned at this point how the boyfriend fared-he had just turned 18 and did not have the experience with people who broke the law like I did).

They felt bad when they saw me.  I hadn't showered, my hair was a greasy mess, my ears were swollen and gross, and I hadn't eaten or drank anything in over 48 hours.  So they took me to a restaurant, and let me tell you, that was the best burger and fries I had ever eaten in my life.

I got a lawyer and so did the boyfriend.  I offered to take the charges for everyone, but since I was already on probation, that would have landed me back in jail for a long time (actually, I would have ended up in prison for a few years).  The other two guys we were arrested with couldn't afford lawyers or bail and spent a few weeks in jail. Well, one got bailed out by his family after 2 weeks, the other was released on recognizance.  My boyfriend ended up pleading guilty to the charges and just got probation.  It was because he was the youngest of us all and had no prior criminal record (well, there was the getting caught growing weed in his bedroom when he was 14, but he was a minor so it doesn't count).  After his probation was up, the charges were sealed, so he still effectively has no criminal record.

After everything calmed down, we all thought the whole thing was kind of funny.   And the boyfriend and I decided that if we could make it through jail and criminal charges together 3 days into our relationship, we could probably make it through anything.  So far, that has held true.  We've made it through having 3 babies, getting CPS called on us out of spite (I guess that's yet another crazy story I have), moving 5 times, and dealing with a ton of sibling issues (both  mine and his).

Wordless Wednesday- Halloween!!

Snow Days and Soup

I always loved the first snow day of the year.  My sister and I would sleep in, only to realize the winter wonderland before us hours after we would have normally needed to be up.  Excited, we would pull on our snowsuits, gloves, hats, and boots, and our dad would take us out sledding.

We trudged down the snow-covered street to the hill at the elementary school.  It was the biggest perk of living two houses away from the school.  We would sled until our faces were red and our fingers were numb.

Once we entered our vestibule and stomped the snow off our boots, we opened the door to the house and were hit with the smell of potato soup. 

My mom has always cooked potato soup on snowy days.  I love anything potato.  As far as I'm concerned, potatoes should be in their own food group.

I always rushed into the kitchen, got my chair and dragged it to the stove, and helped.  My mom would have the chicken broth, onion, and potato chunks simmering on the stove.  It was my job to mash the potatoes when they were done.  Not all of them, just enough to make the soup a little creamy but still a little chunky.

My mom then ladled the soup into mugs, and I added a couple spoonfuls of Parmesan cheese into each mug, followed by a sprinkle of dried parsley.  The whole family sat at the kitchen table and ate soup for lunch while we talked about sledding and the snow.

My mom still makes me this soup on snowy days, even though I could (in theory) make it myself.  It tastes better when she does it.  I know it's a really simple recipe, but when I think of winter and snow days, I immediately think of my mom's potato soup.  It is everything good about winter.  So far only Princess shares my love of this soup, but I'm hoping the boys will eventually follow suit.

Mom's Potato Soup
-2 cans chicken broth
-1 small onion, chopped
-4-6 russet potatoes (this really varies depending on the size of the potatoes, but I say more is better), cut into 1/2" cube
-Parmesan cheese, 2-3 spoonfuls per serving
-dried parsley, for garnish

-Add first 3 ingredints to 2qt saucepan and simmer about 30 minutes, until potatoes are tender.  Use a potato masher to mash about half the potatoes.
-Ladle soup into a mug or bowl and add Parmesan cheese and parsley. Serve and enjoy.

This post was written in response to this week's RemembeRED prompt from Write on Edge. Take me back…whether to a month ago or decades ago.  Share with me a special recipe, but don’t just list out ingredients.  Take me there…in 500 words or less.

Halloween Cake Pops!

So I was supposed to go to Lady's Halloween party on Saturday.  Lady is my best friend from college, and she only lives 45 minutes away from me.  I made Halloween cake pops on Friday afternoon, and went crazy because my new 9x13 pan burnt my first cake.  So I ran back to the store and bought 2 more boxes of Devils Food cake mix just in case.  The second time I baked the cake, I ended up taking it out of the oven 13 minutes early.  This new pan is killing me, and I couldn't find my usual cake pops pan.  Thankfully, the cake was done and not burnt.  So here's my cake pops tutorial.

1. Bake the cake of your choice.  If it's a light-colored cake, remove the ends and any brown parts.  This doesn't matter with dark cakes.

2. Crumble cake into a bowl until you have uniform small crumbs.  Add frosting and mix together until cake and frosting mix holds together well.  You will use about 3/4 of a container of frosting.

3. Melt some chocolate in the color you are going to cover your cake pops with.  I chose orange.  Dip your lollipop sticks in the chocolate so the tip of one end is covered.

4. Make a ball out of the cake and frosting mix.  Insert the chocolate covered stick halfway into the ball.

5. Once you have a bunch of pops made, stick them in the freezer for about 30 minutes, until they are firm but not frozen.

6. Melt more chocolate and dip each of the pops.  Tap off excess chocolate, and stick into a foam block to dry.  You need about 2 bags of candy wafers for every cake you crumble.

7. Once pops are dry, you can decorate with edible markers or use more chocolate as glue for big sprinkles or other decorations.  I was planning on making them jack-o-lantern pops, but my black edible marker crapped out after the first one I did and the other colors didn't look right.  So they're plain orange.

I don't know where everyone who reads this lives, but we had a freak snowstorm in New York on Saturday.  It was treacherous out and we got 9" of snow where I live.  Needless to say, I did not make it to my party, so I have 30 cake pops sitting around in my house.

This is the photo I took from my bedroom on Saturday afternoon of the tree bent so far that the branches were touching the ground, blocking me from even leaving my house.  Thankfully, when some of the snow melted on Sunday, the branches rose back up to where they're supposed to be, although there were a lot of downed trees and power outages in my area.

Happy Halloween everyone! I hope you liked the cake pops tutorial and my cat on a fence pumpkin!

Dance Recital Fail

I practice the dance moves again and again in the ballet studio until every step is perfect.  I want to make sure I don't mess anything up because I am the leader for the song and the entire audience will see me first.

I'm excited as my mom helps me get ready for the recital.  I use her shoulders for balance as I pull on the white tights.  Next comes the blue and white striped leotard and the white tutu, then the matching white Tom Sawyer hat with the blue ribbon.

I fidget as my mom applies pink blush to the apples of my cheeks, even though I'm already prone to looking flushed as it is.  She also puts some lipstick on me, then fixes my hair into a bun.  I make sure we don't forget my umbrella with the lace ruffle around the edge as we rush out of the house.

Backstage, we receive our cue as "The Yellow Rose of Texas" begins to play.  I am exhilarated as I dance onstage, all the other girls following me.  The stage lights shine brightly down.  I see the large audience dimly lit in front of me.

I can't focus.  My tutu is itchy.  I'm trying to find my parents in the audience.  I have some mosquito bites on my thigh that are suddenly irritating.

I stop on the side of the stage.  I can't help but scratch my bites furiously.  Tears are streaming down my face.

"Mommy!  Daddy! I'm itchy!" I scream again and again until my parents rescue me from the stage.

This post was written in response to this week's Red Writing Hood prompt from Write on Edge.  Some people consider themselves athletes. Others do not.  Write a piece of fiction or creative non-fiction in which athleticism features prominently. Use one of these photographs for inspiration.

I knew I had to write about my dance recital.  I was 5 or 6 years old when it happened, and afterwards, I stopped ballet lessons and didn't dance again until college.  I have the whole thing on videotape, and it is equally hilarious and humiliating.  Although I failed as a dancer, I was a great soccer player growing up, so I guess it's a good thing I stopped dancing so I could focus on that.