The Good, The Bad, and the Cuddly

This week, there was big news for my family, we had loads of drama in our crazy a$$ ghetto fabulous apartment, and my nutty sister welcomed a new addition to her family—of the four legged variety. Warning, she has been calling people saying she brought her baby boy home, and many of her friends had nearly passed out at the news because they were shocked to miss an entire pregnancy.

Before I get into the juicy neighborhood gossip, the good news! My hardworking spouse, P, finally is officially permanently employed! We all heaved a collective sigh of relief. More good news, my four year old, Lanes, is enrolled in kindergarten.  P, diligent to a fault, had all the paperwork filled, filed, sorted, certified, and aligned. Luckily, he stopped short of laminating and binding the information, but I wouldn’t put it past him.

Thanks to his meticulous nature, getting Lanes registered took all of five minutes.  The lady in the principal’s office was peppering her conversation with lots of phrases like ‘oh my!’ and ‘wow, you’ve done all my work for me’. 

Each time she said she needed to photocopy something, presto, P had done it for her! Every time she brought out a form for us to fill, abracadabra, P had beaten her to it. I don’t know if she was impressed or was classifying him as a Type A personality in her head. 

Meanwhile, my contribution to the entire process was showing up with my hair properly groomed and supplying ID cards upon request.  My wide eyes were swiveling around trying to take in the surroundings. I was proud and petrified at the same time--I'm so going to be that annoying mom that screeches and weeps at graduation--I'll probably throw myself to the ground for good measure. 

Any old how, I was trying to do as much snooping as I could while P was busy either impressing or annoying the poor woman registering Lanes. I was also wondering why so many kids were visiting the Principal’s office, but since they were all smiling, I assume it’s ok.

Later in the day, I was telling P that I wish I could go to school with Lanes and make sure that she is happy and safe and the other kids are nice.  I said maybe I could hide behind a bush and peer in or something. Who am I kidding? If I paste some leaves all over my clothes and slap some hydrangea on my head, I’m big enough to be the blooming bush!

Our little eavesdropper, who I thought was completely absorbed in making a kite (seriously, don’t ask), vehemently chimed in ‘no Mamma! Big kid’s school is for kids and teachers only! Not mommies and daddies allowed unless the teacher says so.’  Leave it to me to get chastised by a preschooler.

Not wanting to remain shame faced, I asked her jokingly if I could go to college with her and she refused, said her Daddy can come, but promised to think about it. If she is anything like her father, she probably has got paperwork for a loony bin filled out for me. Luckily for my sake, she can’t write yet.

Now the not so nice news, which as usual, revolves around our ghetto fab apartment building.  The weather, albeit cold, has been sunny and forgiving. I spent most of this week with migraines, and I stepped out a little too early. As such, I thought I’d wait in the lobby of this joint until it was time to get Lanes. 

One of the cleaning ladies has a brother who lives on the ground floor, and all the tenants complain that he is a less than savory character, if you catch my drift.  I just ignore all the complaints because I mean really. What are we to do? The whole moving out thing was not working brilliantly for us. 

Any old how, I digress. So this lady comes in, all in a flap and exclaiming wildly to someone on the phone. She knocks on her brother’s door and there are lots of heated, four letter words exchanged. It was not pleasant, but I suppose for folks that are highly to likely to appear on Jerry Springer, it’s their version of sibling rivalry.

Next thing I know, that woman comes flying through the door, one shoe in the air, followed by a huge, red, metal hand truck/dolly barreling after her. It’s a miracle she was not hit and injured. I was not facing this drama, only hearing it and seeing the reflection in the window. Since I was not sure I wanted to be involved as a third party injury or a witness, I high tailed it out of there.

She was swearing and limping with shoe off and one shoe on and eventually he flung the other shoe at her and she came out and apologized to me for the drama. Not knowing what else to say, I just shook my head and said ‘brothers!’.  Thank goodness for my nutty sister, eh?

Later that day, my geriatric neighbor, who now keeps two strollers full of trash in the narrow corridor, knocks on our door. It’s never really good news. She doesn't like P, but is ok with me because  I listen to her since it’s ingrained in me to be nice to the elderly, no matter how cranky, and I speak Thai. That and I’m always home.

As usual, she gave me a run down on the State of the Building (aptly  SOB for short). Turns out, our mutual Korean neighbors are not so very patient anymore and she is so upset that they had ‘the audacity’ to complain about her strollers. I was thinking she is lucky they didn’t complain to the apartment manager, who is not on good terms with her as it is. Her defense is that at least she washes her trash and then keeps it out.

I guess her neighbors having to do hurdles and cartwheels to get to the fire door is ok because at least the trash is clean. I bit my tongue, not wanting to take the bait and eager to end the conversation because P was due any minute. Then she tells me that the nice lady on the 9^th floor lost all her clothes because someone stole them while they were in the dryer.

How horrible is that? Naturally, this lady was all upset and she had put up a nice note in the laundry room, saying she was on welfare and pleading for the laundry bandit to return her items to the dryer, no questions asked. My geriatric neighbor, cantankerous as she is, is very generous, so she was rounding up clothes to give this poor woman.

I went down to the laundry room bright and early because the other cleaning lady, who is my friend, is always cleaning there at that time, and I figured that way I won’t have two waste two hours babysitting my clothes.

Some idiot in our building put up a note in childish cursive fourth grade level writing saying the lady ‘on welfare’ should ‘get a job’ and is a ‘loser’ and should stop complaining about her clothes. Seriously? Is this person drinking the tap water from the duct taped leaky metal pipes in this building? 

As usual, when there is drama to be had, my neighbor materializes and she took the note to her hands.  I told her it’s early in the day, and that lady has probably not seen that horrendous, compassionless message, and its best she never sees it. So she took the note and chucked it and went over to the next building to raid the trash for goodies. I spent the rest of the day reaffirming myself that dogs are better than humans.

I didn’t hold on to pessimism for long though. On Saturday, P was taking Lanes to her gym class and they were not far down the road when they met with an accident, which if not for P’s quick application of the brakes would have been far more catastrophic.  An elderly gentleman didn’t see a stop sign and drove right into P’s path.

The crash was inevitable, but luckily, due to P’s quick action, he and Lanes were safe (as were the passengers in that man’s car).  The other driver quickly admitted it was his fault and was really worried because he saw Lanes in the car. Although he put everyone in jeopardy, he was very honorable and even told the insurance folks he was fully to blame.

Another couple saw the entire thing and volunteered to be witnesses for P if there was an issue with the insurance and they stayed with Lanes and talked to her while P was exchanging information with the other person. P was stunned by their kindness. When they came home, Lanes, always attuned to my feelings, stroked my worried face and told me she and her Daddy were very good and wore their seat belts and that is why they are safe. 

She was anxious that her Daddy was in trouble because of the accident and after I explained away her fears and showered her with kisses, she was all better and running around the apartment with her over-sized stuffed dog strapped into her old stroller.

All this had to happen on my nutty sister’s birthday! I was really sad they were across the border, because I sure could have used a little of their madness that day. They were also busy picking up their new pet, a cute Labradoodle named Mochi. Yes, Mochi. With a name like that, no wonder he comes with a perm. That poor dog is going to be teased in doggie day care.

So on that note, I must sign off before yet another migraine sets in. Although I am finding it hard to love my neighbors, at least this week has proven that we can rely on the kindness of strangers from time to time, and it's not all gone to the dogs! More musings from BC next week...