Seashore Subjects

It Aint Stand-Up, But I'll Take It

2012-01-24T07:29:00.000-05:00

Yesterday evening was going quite well. I had managed to retrieve Youngest from choir bring her home, feed dinner to the masses and get both Youngest and Boy to a 4H meeting. All with a sick Baby at home ~~which helped because I was not at work, but I am taking the credit anyway~~.Anyway, at the end of listening to a room full of 6-8 year-olds clogging their hearts out, I thought we needed a treat.

As I steered us into a local shake place, I called Teen to see what she wanted. At this point I had some stressful, frustrating news dumped upon me. No one in my home had done anything wrong, but my mood became a roiling mass of irritation. The kids, hearing my calls and sensing my mood sat quietly sipping their shakes when Boy suggested we needed some music to lighten the mood.

"Music won't cure this mood," I informed him. Never willing to say die, Boy instantly made a very bad joke. With a grimace I informed him that wasn't a joke, it was horrible. So he pops out with, "Should we stop for Kentucky Fried Chicken? - No?"

"How about some California monkey?" Bad on so many levels, but I couldn't help it, I laughed.

We proceeded to spend the rest of the ride trying to laugh while frowning. Impossible, just so you know. While this episode didn't cure the woes of having a foster-child with a hateful mother, it did go a long way toward easing some tension, and cementing my belief that Boy should not be a comedian.

Mini Bully, Mini Mimic

2012-01-22T16:05:00.000-05:00

Having a verbal seven-year-old puts a parent in touch with many simple joys, but also gives a clear look into the dark-side of second grade. Which holds enough wrong-doing that Batman would have a difficult time keeping up with the perpetrators.

Being the type-B mom that I am, I lend a sympathetic ear to the injustices. These include 3 kids holding the bathroom door so another child couldn't leave, the day-to-day cliques of who can sit where at lunch, and the more hurtful personal attacks and injuries. I keep an ear open for real atrocities, and how Youngest reacts to the jungle that is 2nd grade America ~~as well as to how the teachers handle these situations~~. After hearing Youngest's view on "true friends" which went something like "they don't hurt you even if you don't agree with each other." and her affirmation that she had 2 "true friends" at school, I encouraged her to stick to her guns and avoid "the meanies." See in type-B land I don't have to rush to a conference or panic, there is no need. Yes, life is not all daisies, a fact I have known since elementary school myself, but she is handling it.

But still, you gotta wonder, what makes these girls think this behavior is okay. I do. Then I spent some time watching a certain kids cable station. Yes, I have seen these shows before, but today something clicked. A certain nanny was plotting against her charge to receive the affections of a guy. Typical stunts and hilarity ensued. But, then as one makes amends with another and it looks like a happy ending, in fact the other has taken the plotting public. Sadly this is nothing new. Since the days of Drake and Josh, another kid show, girls have been shown to be deviously plotting and bullying those around them. Is this seriously how we want to raise our future women, or current 2nd graders?

I do not want to boycott the show, or genre for that matter. My kids watch it. I do point out issues I have with episodes while they are airing, much to the dissatisfaction of my kids. But it does beg the question: Are the "meanies" in 2nd grade really bullies, or simply mimicking what they are seeing daily?

Starting Over

2012-01-20T07:09:00.001-05:00

Saying I'm back doesn't even begin to cover it. What I am really saying is "I'm starting over." That is how it feels. Much of my blog role is gone and I doubt previous readers will be flocking to me ~~obligatory friends and family excepted.~~ No long, wordy explanation for my absence. I have one word. Baby.

Delving back into parenting an infant has been exhilarating. But, dealing with the foster-care system has been exhausting. Now I feel like I am in a groove, or in enough need of some on-line support that I am making the time for me to ~~vent~~ er blog.

So, hello! Let me introduce myself. I am a mother, aunt/foster-mother, who firmly believes in type-B parenting and is being forced to live a type-A parenting situation. My blog is largely focused on the adventures of raising a family in the modern world where children are walked ~~or driven~~ to play dates on their own blocks or placed in so many activities they need personal assistants to keep their schedules straight. And while I too believe in well-rounded kids, my methods are a bit more down-to-earth. If this sounds intriguing, welcome. And if you are a curious on-looker who wonders how my 3 children and 1 niece can possibly survive with this type of parenting, welcome!

The Joke is on Me

2011-06-21T05:00:00.005-04:00

Have you ever felt as though you were actually the star of the movie The Truman Show? That your life was serving as some bizarre entertainment for mass audiences, but you were none the wiser? Yeah? Me too!

Before you go calling for the men with their white coats, let me explain...

There was the time I arrived at an interview at the wrong school, but they went ahead and interviewed me anyway...

Another time it was announced I won the best parking spot at work after my van broke-down on the way to work...

Ahh, the list could go on and on. But the most recent happened Sunday. After a busy Father's Day of visiting and grocery shopping - well we had to eat! - I remembered I really need to move cash into one of our accounts. Hubby said he would stay with a fussy Baby so off I went to run a 10 minute errand. At nearly the 30 minute mark Hubby was calling, I knew he was probably worried, but I couldn't take the call to offer any reassurance for fear I would be disconnected yet again....Who was I talking to? Well, the bank of course.

**flashback 25 minutes**

I pull beside the ATM, insert card, begin deposit...Machine does its thing, asks if the deposit amount is good and if I want to process it, I press complete deposit...Little whirling doohickey appears to indicate it is processing....Almost done then BAM everything goes black. My first thought was we have been invaded - just kidding, actually it was a string of four-letter words (a very long and emphatic string) The machine does not come back on...did I mention the deposit was cash?? Did you infer that it was important for the money to be in the bank since I left Hubby with a gassy baby on Father's Day?

So, after 2 calls to the number on the ATM machine, playing the push a button game twice, and one disconnected call I could not take Hubby's worried call because we all know I would have lost customer service person #2. I also refused to leave the ATM, which had rebooted and seemed fully functional - because it ate my money!! and my card! And all the while I was stealing peeks to see where those little cameras are hidden, because honestly it is comical - in some really ironic way...

Monday, I spoke with claims, and they are "researching" the problem....they better find my money!

Happy Father's Day

2011-06-19T07:33:00.000-04:00

When it came time to think about a Father's Day post this year, it was a stuttering process. Should I begin with my own father who was an ever-present force of calm and caring? Should I be witty in sharing all of Hubby's qualities that make him the confidante of Teen, play-mate of Boy, occasional knight to Youngest's princess, and newly appointed surrogate caregiver to Baby? ~~My wonderful gift for writing not withstanding~~ Nothing seemed to gel.

Then, yesterday, the perfect blog presented itself in the actions of an adolescent Boy.

Baby was fussy. There is no other way to put it. If she was ensconced in the arms of anyone she was calm and peaceful, but the minute she was set anywhere she would startle complete with arms flung to the sides and begin to fuss which irrevocably lead to crying. As a result, there was a cuddle fest taking place on the couch most of the evening.

At some point, Boy appeared, having left whatever computer game he was captivated with at the time. Reaching out as if to take Baby, he offered a questioning look. "Do you want to hold her?" I asked. A nod and a glance to a cushion supported spot on the couch were the response. For the next thirty minutes, Boy cuddled, coo'd, and cared for Baby setting aside all adolescent pretense of being a guy too cool to care for babies.

In this and his repeated attention Baby; his willingness to feed her, replace her binky umpteen times a day while remaining in good humor, or hold her while she is fussy Hubby's influence as a father is seen. And really what better testament to fatherhood is there?

Happy Father's Day to all the dads that are playmates, caregivers, confidantes, or otherwise engaged with their children. You are all cherished!

Verbal and Vivid

2011-06-14T08:42:00.000-04:00

I had some friends over last week. After interacting with my kids for a bit, my friend laughing at something Boy said, commented "What do you expect, his mother is an English teacher." I am not sure that is the cause, but there are certainly some strange things said in this house.

Youngest's comments are often exclaimed, with fervor.

Baby had been in our home for about a week, with little attention from Youngest ~~it's hard to be dethroned~~ she suddenly took an interest in this tiny, cuddly human. As I was dressing Baby, Youngest looked upon the scene and noted that Baby was "awfully fuzzy." I replied that babies certainly are, and Youngest could wash her hands then touch her. After appraising her dirt streaked hands that had spent the last hour hunting lizards and reaching into crevices among the bushes ~~touching who knows what~~ she looked to me and said, "Uh, I don't know her head has that smooshy spot. I freaks me out."

On her birthday, Youngest chose to wear a summer dress she has had about a year. As we were driving to the movies, she was wondering aloud whether her friend would also like her dress. Youngest reassured herself that anyone would love this dress because, "It's a masterpiece! Look at the beautiful flowers. The person who made this fabric was an artist!" I must admit, it is a rather pretty dress.

Boy has entered the witty stage.

After hearing for the umpteenth time that the Mom of Baby has an allergy to cats, that she is quite certain ~~without any basis~~ she has passed to Baby, he jumped from his seat as I was using some spray in my cleaning yesterday. "Hold it, Mom! Be careful! The baby is allergic!" Ah, where does this sarcasm come from??

And Teen continues to take everything in, draw her conclusions, and argue with the best of them...We'll see if we can harness that talent and interest her in debate next year.

Introducing Baby "Seashore"

2011-06-11T09:17:00.000-04:00

"Babies come when they come, and seldom when you are ready for them." Over the years I have heard, and even used, many variations of this sentiment. It seems to be quite true for most of the population, even planners like me. Out of three pregnancies, only one was a straight forward "we want this to happen at this time" and voila 40 weeks later ~~ok 38 he was early~~ we had Boy.

Teen was a wonderful surprise and we were excited-read-everything-we-could- to-prepare, holy-crap-we-are gonna-be-parents blessing. (And we've done quite well so far)

Seven years ago yesterday Youngest blessed our lives. After trying ~~like bunnies~~ for months it seemed a no-go situation. We were sad, but adapted over time. Then just after Hubby was laid-off from his job...Here comes Youngest. Yeah, no stress there. Of course we were thrilled, but nervous. Hubby got a new job, life settled, and after my standard 38 weeks, our family was given the great gift of Youngest.

It seems that preparation and time to adapt are crucial when it comes to babies. So, a bit over two weeks ago I was frazzled. Today I am calm, worried, but calm. No, I am not expecting. Even the luxury of 30-something weeks is beyond me. Instead, Hubby and I have welcomed into our home and family a baby girl.

We have been blessed with care of my niece, who we'll call Baby in this blog. It was sudden and it is sad. Baby had not been injured in any way by her parents, they are simply unable to care for her at this time due to personal and mental health issues. So with no warning, I left work early to "nest" for an hour before a state worker brought me a 2-week old baby girl. My mom brought necessities like bottles, bassinet, car seat, etc etc. Babies really require a ton of stuff. I don't know how long she'll stay, but I do know that she has won everyone's heart and love. We will do our best to give her everything she needs including stability and a family of love.

Home Repair

2011-06-07T07:03:00.000-04:00

After 5 years of friendship, a couple of years of dating and almost 15 years of marriage you know someone. Growing up and older with a person leads you to believe you have a pretty good handle on their personality. Daily responsibilities tend to be divided by interests and areas of expertise. So if you had asked me to describe my husband to you that morning, I would have felt confident in my summery. Until we began putting on a new front door.

We decided to tackle this project together. I read the Home Depot book and he watched Lowes home repair videos. We were set to go. We began early, in the event that it took longer than the 3 hour suggested time. It did. Four hours ~~plus 2 more trips to the hardware store~~ longer. The project estimates were apparently given for people who live in a house so new, nothing has settled , everything is square, and obviously they don't need a new door. But I digress.

We laughed, joked, and commiserated over our sadly out of square opening. We came up with plans together, the neighbor came by to lend his tools. Nothing seemed off in my previous assessments of my husband.

Until I realized I hadn't touched one tool, other than to hand it to him or take it from him.

Now, understand I know I am not the most coordinated person on the block and when I paint a room it may look as though it was done by a kid, but surely I can hammer a nail. Nope. Not a hammer, not a pry bar, certainly not an electric saw or drill was put to use by me - once. Heck Boy had more tool exposure than I did by hammering the nails in the old frame flush so as not to wound the garbage men.

Who knew this ~~chauvinistic~~ chivalrous side of him existed? Apparently not me, as I practically begged for a chance to whack something with a hammer.

Just a Sip?

2011-06-03T07:02:00.001-04:00

"Please Mom, can I have ~~insert beverage of choice here, usually pop~~ a drink, I'll just take a sip." Yeah right, tell that to the bad guy in Indiana Jones, Search for the Holy Grail.

Moms hear this all the time. I guess Dads do too, but not being one I can't say with certainty. Boy has definitely asked me this ~~every day of his life since he could talk~~ more than once. So, it was not surprising to hear Youngest utter these words, it was the context that startled.

Upon waking the blissfully slumbering little dear ~~their horns are definitely out of sight while they rest~~ rolled to the side throwing her arm out of the blankets, and began reaching blindly around her bed. "Only a couple of school days left, hop up!" I declared in a chipper whisper.

Still blindly reaching, patting, and searching her bed she said, "Ok Mom, just let me get a little sip of my mi-mi first." Tucking her comforting blankie ~~AKA mi mi~~ into her chin she snuggles back into the pillow for a "sip" of quiet before another day begins.

Hey Babe, whatever gets you through the day!

Mom's Medicine

2011-04-06T06:44:00.001-04:00

Being a parent you become used to the idea that your stuff is up for grabs. Anything from your donut to the pens in your purse somehow transform to community property. This especially seems true of my beverages. On the way to bed, Boy will often try to sneak a sip of my pop and look aghast when I tell him no. I may have found a way to break him of this habit.

It was spring break and we were staying with my sisters and cousins at a beach house in NC. I had just poured a drink and went to use the facilities. Though the house was large, it had the ability to carry sound well, so I was privy to the conversation taking place among the cousins.

Cousin L: "I think that's your mom's pop."

Boy: "It is. I'm thirsty"

Cousin J: "If you drink it all she'll be mad."

Boy: "I'm just gonna have a sip."

*me hollering uselessly not to touch my pop - sound only carries one way I guess...*

Boy: "AHHH! That's MEDICINE! YUCK!!".. "Cousin L, taste it. It's NOT pop - it's medicine!"

Cousin N: "Can I taste?" *why - I have no idea*

Boy: "Yeah N, taste it. Blech, acchh, blech."

Thankfully I arrived on the scene to rescue my RUM and Diet Coke before Cousin N could imbibe.

Grateful

2011-04-01T07:00:00.000-04:00

At times it feels as though I am treading water in a storm. I have on a bright orange life-vest ~~safety first you know~~ but it is waterlogged and barely keeping my nose above the water line. As one task or difficulty passes, here comes another wave. All I can do at times like these is to be thankful for the vest, and the miracle that is the sun between the clouds.

Yesterday, I finally conquered one recurring wave - my van. Yes, my trusty steed that should have, by all accounts been shot at LEAST a year ago, was put to pasture when I finally bought a new van. It is shiny, clean, and best of all has a warranty!!!

No more will be the mornings I have to deal with shuttering and shaking as the van warms in the drive.
No longer will I repeat "I think I can" on the drive to work. A great motto for life, but a cruddy way to start your day.
No longer will I have to deal with doors that don't want to unlock and sliding doors that stick.

Some sun has shown between the clouds. And for this small blessing I am grateful.

Pack all you Want

2011-02-27T09:17:00.000-05:00

At a countdown of T-10 hours the task was complete. Boy was packed and ready to go off to Seacamp. I had followed the what to bring directions to the letter. Everything from jeans to underwear had been labeled with his name along with the noted sunscreen and bug repellent. Disposable underwater camera and snacks were placed in the backpack ~~while it was searched for contraband electronics~~

By T-7 hours (8pm) everything sat in a neat pile beside the front door. Except the bathroom bag.

Open and ready for a deposit of toothbrush and deodorant, that bag sat waiting on the bathroom counter.

At 4am I was jolted awake by the alarm and considered myself endlessly lucky that Hubby would be doing the 4:30am drop-off. I did consider climbing out of bed to watch the proceedings, but fell asleep thinking I would pop-up and give a quick kiss in a few minutes as they left. I did wake-up. Regretfully, it was as Hubby was backing out of the driveway. Oh-well. Back to sleep for another hour or so before everyone else needed to be hustled through the morning routine.

Amidst the typical morning rush I happened to notice that the counter held a toothbrush which suspiciously resembled Boy's. A second glance told me there was no toiletries bag, but his deodorant kept the stray toothbrush company. Hmmm. I consoled myself that deodorant at just-12 isn't a necessity especially since 3/4 of the time would be spent in the water of the Florida Keys, and he had money enough to buy a new toothbrush as well as a souvenir.

Fast-forward ~~with not a single phone call or any word~~ to Friday evening. A fully-animated Boy recounted his adventures specifically describing events aimed to wow, dissecting squids, swimming with sharks, and getting stung by jelly fish. After his energetic sharing I asked him if he got any good pictures. Nope. Not one. I am not sure the camera even exited the backpack.

"Jeez you're looking pretty salty, better head in for a shower," I tell him. At which point he explains that he and his friend were on a quest to save freshwater for the trip. So they did not shower once. With pride clearly welling in his voice he told us how he and his friend were congratulated for saving water at their final lunch.

"What about your teeth?" I asked "Did you have your toothbrush?" A lopsided grin lit his face as he shrugged unsure of his answer....Okay. I'll take that as a no.

"I don't know, I only looked in the the bag once to grab the sunscreen." With a head shake I hustled him into the bathroom to rectify his hygiene issues and considered myself lucky that at least he wasn't sunburned.

Scapegoated

2011-02-24T19:36:00.000-05:00

Home, at long last. Juggling a mere three children is a reprieve after a long day spent listening, laughing, and cajoling ninety plus personalities to learn all day. Greeted by a stack of laundry, the need to rush through homework agendas, plus make dinner and squeeze in some laughter at home is the warm embrace of home. After crazy evening routines and rituals, I have earned the right to sit on the couch, watch fiction, and enjoy my creative outlet - lesson planning.

Yes, work. Embracing lesson-scrapping and revamping, altering, adding, and changing is who I am. This is honestly how my creativity works best. I love my job. I do not complain ~~though sometimes it is because I am burried under 90+ essays and can't breathe let alone talk~~ Because I enjoy it. Yet, yesterday I found myself near tears while talking about work with Hubby.

Why? Because I have never in my life had so many people judge me and seem to hate me, without even knowing I exist - EVER. The animosity that is pouring forth from any and every one towards my profession is staggering. Suddenly parents, who dread the mere idea of spending another snow day trapped in the house with 1-3 kids looking for any way to keep them busy for a measly afternoon, are proclaiming that not only do teachers make too much money, they aren't doing it right either. Everyone seems to know exactly what we do and how we SHOULD be doing it - for free.

Let me tell you a secret, I have been to the hospital a time or two in my life. I've watched blood draws and IV inserts, heck I've even seen stitches put in and babies birthed. Does that make me equipped to tell the nurses and doctors how to do their jobs?

Sitting in a classroom for years doesn't make anyone an expert either. We are paid to make it look easy - just like any good magician. Students and parents do not see the frustration that dedicated teachers feel when they feel a student is falling through the cracks or the messes they leave on their own kitchen counters because there is another assignment that needs to be tweaked to reach those hard to reach students. We don't complain. Not because it is a job any one can do, but because we chose to do it. So, please feel free to be pro or anti union. I don't care. But in the mad quest to end organized labor would it be possible to stop scapegoating the teachers? By and large we are a dedicated group that seeks to elevate your children everyday. ~~and it hurts my feelings~~

Spooky Movie, Strange Lights

2011-02-21T08:55:00.000-05:00

Finally, after much maneuvering and demands for the kids to turn off the light in there, with me recovered sufficiently from the flu that has plagued me ~~and pumped full of Nyquil~~ Hubby and I were finally able to sit back and watch a horror movie he brought home last week.

Well into the movie, with more than half my popcorn gone, the creeps were settling nicely across the living room. Hubby and I mentioned numerous times that the family were fools to give-up the one link to spiritual lightness and I was well into my role of criticizing the stupidity of the characters. When Hubby looks into the kitchen and points to something near the sliders.

Knowing his wiley ways of terror well, I said "It's the cat or something." Just as said feline rubs her rump against my elbow. Intrigued I look up with a question on my lips as Hubby tells me, "It's a flashlight in the backyard."

What? In my fenced backyard? I think even as I am saying "Well go see what it is!" Creepiness has reached a new level here. He heads to the door, while I remain half-standing near the couch reassuring myself that it is probably the neighbors looking for something in their fenced yard. Then I hear Hubby telling someone the dogs are in the house. OK, time to investigate as he and unknown voice talk about the 1/2 empty pool standing in the yard. Insurance agents? Mosquito Patrol? None of the above. It is the police.

Why are the police looking through my backyard, and sure enough as I poke my head out those of my neighbors as well, at well past 10 on a Sunday night? Well, seems my neighbors are missing. MISSING. Grown adults, who have their elderly mother with them are all gone. And they are looking into my pool?? Ugh. Suddenly every shadow may hide a corpse and my mind reels with the question of when she last visited at the fence to talk about the dog or pick grapefruit. Where did they go? Suddenly the movie isn't so appealing and I settle on a DVR'd episode of Parenthood that the flu kept me from last week.

Still no sign of them. Hope everything is ok and they just took a trip and didn't tell anyone...

Sister Steps Up

2011-01-28T12:30:00.000-05:00

This is the week that never ends. Beginning with a call Monday afternoon about an exploded radiator from Hubby, it has been nothing but a mad dash.

Who would've thought living smack in the middle of both of our workplaces could lead to so much driving? Every morning, except today - thank goodness for his four-day-workweek schedule - our one working vehicle has put upwards of 150 miles on it per day! Ughh the hours I have spent driving in fog, rain, and through tornadoes touching down ~~yes the weather decided simply driving endlessly wasn't enough~~. Plus, before and after school events have been especially heavy this week, only adding to the joy of my week. All this just to say when I finally arrived home after schmoozing with parents until 7:30 last night, I wasn't at the top of my game.

So, it can be forgiven when I inform my fellow readers that even though I know Youngest and her-brain-that-doesn't-quit, I allowed her to pick her bedtime story. Given my heightened level of exhaustion, it wasn't until she began to bury her head in the pillows that it dawned on me The Nutcracker has a scary bad guy that might threaten ~~my chances of zoning out for an hour before bed~~ Youngest's chances of falling asleep. Quickly picking-up the fear factor here, I found a fairy princess place to stop for the night. Hoping upon hope that this would leave her with visions of fairies and magic instead of seven-headed mice.

No such luck. She was up as I was shutting the door.

After repeated attempts to calm, offers of my bed, the dog, ~~a trip to Disney~~ anything that would allow me some down time, she was still unable to sleep. Apparently there are "scurrying noises in this house." Knowing she wouldn't sleep alone and that Teen was ~~not doing homework~~ on the computer in her room, I sent her there.

The shock on Teen's face at being called to bat was priceless. She gave only meager resistance to this, and allowed Youngest to snuggle in. Within 15 minutes Teen came out to inform us that Youngest was asleep and we could move her now. Uhh, no. ~~My brain was back on line and knew~~ A move would only necessitate the need for Youngest to come into my bed in an hour when she woke with nightmares. I explained that Youngest was huddled in a corner of the bed, was a breeze to sleep with and would be fine until morning.

Maybe it was Teen's head cold that had sapped her energy for a fight, or maybe she is just really that sweet. Whatever the reason, everyone here got a good night's rest.

Catch and Release

2011-01-21T07:30:00.001-05:00

It snatches the bait and you feel a gentle tug on the line. Wanting to keep the little guy, you give some line and out it swims. In its mad dash to freedom it pulls a bit too hard. Then slowly, ever so gently you reel it back a bit. Sensing the need, you feed it more line watching its progress in the dance of away and near. Feeling the give you've offered, it bounds to the weeds. Knowing this direction will only end badly, you gently yet with a firm hand reel it back again. Eventually you land it, only to have the briefest of moments to snap a quick picture, marvel at your success, and set it free.

After a week of "run and reel" with Teen I used fishing as an analogy to parenting while talking with my mom. She laughed and then told me that parenting is actually like flying a kite - courtesy of Erma Bombeck.
You spend a lifetime trying to get them off the ground.
You run with them until you're both breathless...
they crash...they hit the rooftop...
you patch and comfort, adjust and teach.
You watch them lifted by the wind and assure them that someday they'll fly.
Finally they are airborne, they need more string and you keep letting it out.
But with each twist of the ball of twine, there is a sadness that goes with the joy.
The kite becomes more distant, and you know it won't be long before that beautiful creature will snap the lifeline that binds you together
and will soar as it is meant to soar, free and alone.
Only then do you know that your job is done."

Whether your parenting is closer to fishing or kite-flying it is all about the give and take.

Senseless Sunday

2011-01-16T07:04:00.001-05:00

I have been saving little tidbits in my head in the hopes of collecting enough debris to do a fully-fragmented blog. But, let's just face it my head is too full of debris already and the new bits are in danger of pushing out the old bits along with any trash that is accumulating in there!

~ I have embarked upon the quest of reading Mark Twain's autobiography. Let me tell you, for a man with no access to blogs to record his life ~~and even a man that has that access~~ his memory is incredible! The entire work, which will encompass three volumes, will be a sight to behold. I have the recently released volume one and the size alone is impressive. Then to read his stories and witness his sarcastic wit ~~a man after my own heart~~ is amazing. But, it will take some time for me to finish...

~ We have wonderful neighbors ~~ok the crazy family down the street not so much~~ . The other night I had a massive fish-fry with the bounty recovered on a recent outing, sent a plate piled high next door and would have sent some across the street, but they weren't home. Just as I was finished cleaning up the grease ~~which was thinly layering the kitchen~~ there was a knock at the door. My charter captain neighbor had pounds more of freshly caught and filleted Amberjack to hand over. We seem to have the fishes thing down, now all we need are the loaves of bread.

~ I recently read a very funny post at Life of a New Dad talking about Toy Story toys. It called to mind an outing with Teen when she was much younger and very much wanted a Woody doll. Imagine my ~~much younger self's~~ amusement and horror at walking through the local retail store with a small girl loudly insisting that she wanted "a big Woody." Ahh, Disney, yet another laugh you take at a parent's expense.

~ Speaking of laughs at my expense here is one just for you... I have been blogging for 2 years. I visit other blogs and make comments much of the time.Yet it was only recently that I actually read the boxes under the comment line to see that you can subscribe to comments. No. I. am. not. kidding. I harp on kids weekly to read directions yet, here I was ignoring the directions and trying to remember where I commented so I could go back and check to see if there were any responses. Then I stopped commenting on people's comments because I thought, well hell, they aren't going to remember and come back to check so who cares right? DUH! So, now I will be a better replier - I promise. If you click that little box you will receive a follow-up comment.

Now, what are you waiting for...leave some comments!

Trainwreck

2011-01-14T06:58:00.001-05:00

Rigid with foreboding
i bear witness
to the scene unfolding

Filled with self-loathing's wrath
plummeting down
it's cold ebony path

Passed with few compunctions
were promise, hope
now abandoned junctions

Momentum gains, fate looms
I scream warning
witness with silent blooms

Carried by wind, the shout
i watch helpless
praying for resolve, stout

Rigid with foreboding
i bear witness
to the scene unfolding

Taking the Fall

2011-01-10T06:54:00.000-05:00

It was one of those rare and precious moments in the middle school classroom. Students were sprawled or tucked into various corners, book in hand. Not one person was giggling, trying desperately to send-off an illicit text, or mouthing a joke to a nearby friend. There was no emergency need to visit the clinic or the facilities. No one was requiring any redirection of any type.

The entire class was simply engaged in the act of reading.

Of course, that left me bored. I wove through the silence basking in the glory of this small success, mentally noting the progress of various students. As I monitored an emptier section of class the silence was broken. Not by a pin dropping, rather by a much more human sound. The soft "pfffltt" could be heard around the room.

Being immediately beside the culprit, I knew from whence the sound had come. But, I allowed the giggles to be directed at me. After all, I have already survived middle school.

Ahh, The Cynicism (of youth)

2011-01-05T07:07:00.000-05:00

You have probably read about the strange occurrence of the dying Red Wing Blackbirds in Arkansas. Maybe you have also read about the same type of thing happening in Louisiana. You probably even read about the mass die-off of Drum Fish as well.

Many people are wondering what happened and why. While we know Otter Thomas at Life of a New Dad likes to hunt, I doubt he was responsible for this many deaths occurring at once ;) It is a series of events that just makes you scratch your head and say "hmmm."

With all of this in mind, I was making conversation at dinner last night. I started to ask Teen if she had any thoughts on this matter. Then I stopped mid-sentence. How would the younger 2 view this event? Would it add more worry to Youngest's ever-worrying mind?

Nothing will get your kids attention faster than starting and stopping a sentence while you reconsider. ~~especially if you say something inane like "oh wait, that may be inappropriate"~~ Suddenly they were all ears. I asked if anyone had seen the news about the birds. Boy piped up that he had, but wanted to know more and Teen said she had briefly looked at it as well. We talked about some of the details and I wondered what had caused these events.

Within moments of posing this rhetorical question aloud, Teen declared, "It was the government running tests" While Boy proclaimed, "It was aliens."

Maybe I should watch the instant view Netflixs of X-files in my room...

Fish Tales

2011-01-03T05:49:00.001-05:00

White knuckled, bouncing and bracing himself, the salt of wind-formed tears mix with the cold spray of the ocean.

"I will be tough. I will not fall into the ocean," is the mantra he repeats silently as the craft hits wave after wave at speeds nearing 50mph on this windswept, high seas day.

As he lands painfully, nearly knocking himself and his friend onto the white expanse of the deck, he wonders if there will be a pay-off for this harrowing ride under a cloudless sky. Another jostle and miraculously the boat begins to slow.

The sheltered inlet offers blessed stillness and peace.Tentatively the boys both rise and test their sea legs again. Shaking off their previous fear they offer shaky laughter in response to quips about the ride from their fathers and neighbor while reaching for their poles.

With poles in hand silently dismissing thoughts of sopping clothes and cold breezes they set to their task in earnest. Casting, reeling, and repeating the process, silent boy prayers are offered to the sea.

A bite, a tug, set the hook and reel it in. Ogle at the size or snap fingers with frustration that a mere inch in length can cause. Laugh with their dads as their bounty grows. And know, perhaps, that this memory is a keeper.

* This story has been pieced together from yesterday's actual adventurous exploit of Boy and Hubby. Though I was not present to witness said adventure, I have shared with you, my friends, the story as I picture it based on the stories all present were eager to share upon their arrival home.

Savor the Moments

2010-12-30T09:09:00.000-05:00

I love the post-Christmas week with children happily exploring new toys, no holiday stress or rush and the feeling that there is still some magic of Christmas lingering in the air. Alas, it is almost New Year's and I can no longer put off finding homes for the presents that have been conveniently stored under the tree since the big day.

There have been many memories created this week and lessons learned:

1) Sewing a strap to the donkey hat doesn't mean a thing if the child takes the hat off in the pew. She will make it to the altar only to be reminded of this and have to rush back retrieving said hat before she takes her rightful place in the stable.

2) Giving your husband the video game he has been drooling over doesn't mean much if the computer's mother board crashed on Christmas Eve. In this event have cool gifts for the children to keep him busy until the computer shop can get the part and fix it (fingers crossed that it happens soon)

3) Monitor Just Dance 2 song choices when Teen is choosing for Boy, it is just not nice to have an eleven-year-old dancing to "It's Raining Men"

4) Encourage childish joy, especially when it gives teens a chance to act like complete goofs.

5) Savor every moment...

I'm off to direct toy and decoration storage so I can be prepared for the teen invasion scheduled to occur on New Year's Eve...

Anticiaption and Great Joy

2010-12-24T08:16:00.000-05:00

It is crunch time. The time when parents near and far are busily wrapping-up ~~pun intended~~ last minute items and preparations. Kids are positively humming with anticipation and cookie overload. Plus, if they aren't excited enough, you can always go to NORAD to track Santa who is busily delivering goodies to the the far East even as I type.

We will spend the day prepping for company and listening to Youngest count down the hours until her big debut as the donkey ~~or Christmas Ass as her brother likes to remind us~~ in the Christmas pageant at the family mass today. It will be hectic, busy, and best of all filled with family and friends. Church, with its simple adornments and well known readings, will offer the possibility to reflect on the real reason we celebrate this season with such gusto. A time of peace and hope. Followed promptly by a time of celebration.

Whether you celebrate this season in a church, the bosom of your family, or anywhere else I wish you great joy and many memories worth holding dear. Merry Christmas!

First Snow...fall?

2010-12-22T07:18:00.001-05:00

Most towns offer snow gratis. It's the perk (or pest) of the location. In order for kids to enjoy the wonders it has to offer ~~wet socks, frostbite~~ they need to go no further than the yard. Not so in Sunnyville.

Snow is such a rare commodity that youngest has never witnessed the white stuff falling ever. While most people over the age of 20 see this as a positive, my kids are not 20 and bemoan their snowless fate yearly ~~while mom does the happy dance and sends gentle jibes to far away family~~ This year we chose to find snow...

First, mom had to coupon shop. Honestly. I did. Snow and cold are pricey here. After driving 2 hours, we arrived...

The parkas were a side perk of spending an hour in the 9 degree exhibit.

We toured the sculptors. "Night Before Christmas" was the theme.

No trip to the ice would be worth its salt without an ice slide.

Of course we couldn't forget to visit the courtyard.

Now this weather is more my speed.

Then we went to play in the "snow" (I use the term loosely)

A great time for all.

All-in-all it was worth the drive and now Youngest tells me she can't wait to see real snow. I guess she doesn't realize those wet knees and gloves are not so much fun when it is actually cold!

Fire! Where?

2010-12-20T07:49:00.001-05:00

It's 3:30 in the morning. On our very quiet and very dark street, my home is lit up like the Superbowl is being played within it's tiny frame. And is that? Could it be? Yes it is. Another fire truck come to cast light on the scene. The kids, dogs, and I huddle in the van watching the scene unfold as Boy takes the opportunity to remind me, yet again, that he would like a snack.

And while a small part of me does have to admit that watching firemen line the entire block with their vehicles and pour into your home is a bit like watching a movie, most of me is focused on a churning stomach, the thought that the fire must have started in the very messy garage, and the fact that my kids are going to be homeless with all of our shoes burnt-up.

Losing it slightly at this point, I say, "You can't have a snack. They are burning up in our house!" Hmm, maybe not one of my brightest moves...

How did we end-up in this predicament?

It all started with an annoying sound you half-hear in your sleep and a nervous dog. Having a newborn at the time (Youngest was about 3 months old) I was half-delirious with sleep withdrawl. Upon waking I couldn't place the sound and the dog was acting very strange, whining and unsettled. I woke Hubby to ask what that noise was.

We got out of bed to investigate and as we were crossing the house Teen (who was really more of a Kid) crawls at super-speed from her room hollering "It's the FIRE ALARM. It's the FIRE ALARM" on a constant loop. And, hey, she was right. ~~Quick-thinking~~ completely dazed and sleep addled me told her to meet me at the mailbox and thank you fire safety month, she crawled right out the front door. Hubby and I rushed into Boy's room to remove him and Youngest from the danger-zone. Still very much operating on instinct, imagine my surprise to find Youngest's crib empty! Uh, where did she go? Surely she didn't just leave - she can't even roll over!

Light dawned through my confusion. I remembered I brought her into my bed, and rushed back there. Grabbing the baby and the dogs I went out to meet the others at the mailbox. I piled everyone into the van, because they were all in their various states of sleep undress and standing in the middle of the yard. Hubby and I headed back in to grab the phone, well he did anyway. Truth be told I went back for a can of Diet Coke and my cigarettes...Hey it was stressful.

We didn't see any fire. But the entire house was filled with this sweet-smelling smoke. Hubby explained this to 911, as I grabbed my drink. We assumed the fire must be smoldering in the attic. And I was fretting because I knew the firemen would have no access to said attic because the garage was such a mess! Ah, the dumb@#% things I worry about.

In record time the trucks arrived. I think it was every truck in Sunnyville. All lined up on my blcok. And while I do truly appreciate their prompt attention, it is Sunnyville. Did they really think a ladder truck would be necessary? The house is only one floor!

So here we were. Sitting in the driveway watching men and lights travel through the house. Hubby talking with the fire chief and Boy prattling on about his need for sustenance...Maybe my previously mentioned blurt about the snacks burning up could be forgiven.

After touring my home with heat-finding goggles, the firemen reached the conclusion that there was freon pouring into the house from a faulty whatchamacallit in the air conditioner. Because this can be toxic, they brought in HUGE fans and blew the smoke out before allowing us to regain occupancy. Upon reentering the house, I did get Boy his snack and we all decided to watch Pirates of the Caribbean since we were up anyway.

Juggling Act

2010-12-18T09:05:00.000-05:00

Fate was peeking at my well-managed budget and planning this year, saw that I was far too calm, and thought to itself: "Ha, where is her challenge?"

In order to keep me on my toes, Fate gave me a car that stalled while I was driving down the street. Being ~~extremely lucky~~ the quick-thinking action hero I am, I threw it into neutral, started it and continued cruising with no one the wiser...except me. After a day spent rationalizing the stall incident, I relented ~~after practicing my race car driver technique for the 3rd time~~ and called my mechanic.

Having a car in the shop lead to a slew of thoughts ~~not all of which involved anxiety attacks and crying in my beer~~ Some I thought to share:

1) Sunnyville children are not meant to walk to school on the coldest morning of the year - their moms aren't either. Running into a friend at drop-off helps to get home more quickly ~~and allows Boy's bike to be there for his return home, not that I would have stolen it...~~

2) When borrowing one of my sister's cars I was presented with a gas dilemma. What in the heck does "range=LOW" mean?? How can a car go from "range=36 miles" to "LOW" in 1/10 of a mile anyway??

3) Also in borrowed car, what in the heck are all these buttons and doohickeys for? It is a car, can't it just go? and with all these buttons and doohickeys WHY can't it tell me how far until I run out of gas??

4) Christmas shopping while talking to the mechanic about prices definitely brings out the bargain hunter in me. (Do they sell American Girl accessories at Goodwill?)

5) Hmm, is it too early to spike the eggnog?

6) God must have wanted me to be a clown, because He sure does expect me to juggle.

Now I'm off the the repair shop. In the event of mental collapse due to price shock, your comments will be a welcome pick-me-up.

Short, Sweet Saturday

2010-11-20T08:45:00.000-05:00

In an effort to continue my attempt at regular posting ~~and a lack of any usable material~~ I am going with random parenting truisms today.

~ You will not notice how filthy your child became while playing in the yard until you are standing in grocery store and a very kindly elderly couple begins talking with her.

~ When allowing a teen to attend a midnight premier, plan for an afternoon of sleeping teen because you are a big meany and made her stick to the original deal and attend school on time.

~ Learn to laugh off parents who shake a finger at you when you allow your child to attend midnight premiers with her father, knowing you know what is right for your child.

~ Just because your child was super excited to be a B away from straight A's does not in any way guarantee that you get to resign from the post of homework police the next quarter.

~ No matter how sure you are that you have the most original idea for a Christmas gift for your parents, your sister will surely tell you that she has the perfect gift idea and it will be almost identical to yours.

~ Procrastinate housework as long as possible on a Saturday.

Blogging is helpful with this ;)

Come with me if you want to live...

2010-11-17T06:48:00.001-05:00

I am going to preface this post with an announcement. I am no Sarah Connor. ~~though I wouldn't mind having her muscles, the gaunt look does nothing for me~~ I live in suburbia, and honestly I am pretty average. You probably wouldn't find me remarkable on sight and I am very moderate in most beliefs. I am not preparing my children for the day machines take over the world, and though we have taken the oldest two shooting at clay pigeons a time or two, we are not arming our own personal militia here in Sunnyville.

But there are those lessons, aren't there? that every person ~~especially film writers~~ should know. So it was that we were cruising around suburbia yesterday and four police cars raced past in the other direction. Talk flowed to wondering what was up and talking about recent accidents and pull-overs ~~it is snow bird season here~~ Amidst the conversation I told the kids i was going to share a life-lesson. My plan was to tell them (ok Teen - but the other two were in the car) that if lost while driving it is right and good to go ahead and pass your turn and then turn around at a reasonable time rather than stopping dead in the middle of a 6 lane highway. ~~yes people do that here~~

Except that just after I began with "Ok guys, I have a life-lesson for you..."

Boy jumped in and said, "In a terrorist attack, or a killer flu outbreak, or if zombies invade we should stay away from the cities and go to the country."

heehee Laughter exploded from Teen and she looked to me and said, "Seriously, you told them what to do in a zombie apocalypse?!" Well, yeah, it may have come-up in the conversation a time or two.

Just because screen writers are foolish enough to send their characters to the city in the event of a cataclysmic event, doesn't mean I am. :)

That Music Will Put Your Eye Out

2010-11-13T08:35:00.001-05:00

Recently Hubby and I (alone, no minor chaperons attached) flew into our favorite city for a ~~concert~~ wedding. It was purely coincidental that Riot Fest was happening the same weekend and that Hubby won all access passes to every show of the event ~~hours on facebook finally pay off~~ Though we would have liked to see every show, there are obligations with a wedding: drinking, bachelor party, more drinking. But there was one show in particular we were not going to miss, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Less than Jake, and a few other ska-type bands.

In what may have been a preemptive attack on rapid aging I donned my doc martins, jeans and a T then headed to the show with an old friend and our guys. We watched the show from a safe distance for awhile. (There is much dancing about with elbows and knees flying in various directions at a punk rock show.) The ladies, uh yeah, in this scenario that would be me, had decided we WOULD be heading to the main floor for the Bosstones, and I took advantage of a loll in the show to get some fresh air ~~bonus of all access passes, can enter and leave at will~~

So it was that I was milling about on Irving Park Rd. and 3 security guys/cops burst through the door with a concert-goer, we'll call him Guy, in tow. Guy was promptly deposited on the street near a wall while staff talked among themselves. Such behavior is sure to draw an interest. Yes, I was gawking, along with a few other groups milling about. In a crouched fetal position, Guy was holding his crumpled shirt tightly to his face.

A nearby group assumed he had been the receiver of a badly placed elbow and had a bloody nose. One wondered aloud why the guy was hyperventilating, and why there was an ambulance coming. His tone implying Guy needed to "man-up." On closer attention it happened that yes, a badly placed elbow was to blame. But no mere nosebleed here. Guy's eye had literally been popped from its socket. At which point I said aloud to no one, "If my eye pops out, feel free to call an ambulance." To which I was assured by the nearby group that they would indeed do that service for me.

Maybe my mother was right all my teens and 20's and there are things that will put your eye out.

Yes, I still went to the main floor, though Hubby (bless his heart) was worried for my safety ~~trying very hard not to read into this that he thinks I'm too feeble to dodge a few elbows~~

Rapid Aging

2010-11-12T06:57:00.000-05:00

I don't know about the rest of the world, but here in Sunnyville we seem to be subjects of a Jimmy Neutron experiment gone awry. ~~For those with small children, he is a boy genius cartoon~~ Darn him! I was bobbing happily along this parenthood ride when suddenly a switch was thrown, and I find myself in fast-forward.

It started with Youngest being invited to attend a family camping trip - with another family! Her anxiety was only outmeasured by her excitement. Ok, I admit I was a little happy to know I would have one less contestant in the bickering contest that often exisits between the three. But, she's only 6, a mere baby. So, bam. Just like that I am a parent to 3 kids who can sleep-over with friends.

The same weekend Boy, who had been on the fence, decided and attended his first school dance. At drop-off he was quiet ~~timid as a mouse~~. It was sweet, dropping him off to hang with school friends for an evening of chaperoned fun. It was not until pick-up that the rapid aging was felt once again. Arriving at the dance to sign him out ~~it's a safety conscious world~~ I spot him. And more importantly he spots me - and ducks back into the crowd! I watched with other waiting parents as he hopped and bobbed his way through the last song of the night and sent Youngest in to wrangle him. He chatted a bit on the way home, and seemed to have enjoyed himself. I was pleased for him. Until bedtime. Upon sending him to bed, I reach for my nightly hug and kiss and am offered a fist instead. Not for a punch. But for a knuckle bump. Are you kidding me? One dance and suddenly he is too old for hugs! Not. Ready. For. This. ~~ok, I admit I hugged him anyway~~

Then the same weekend Teen decides yes, she will be attending the homecoming dance with friends. We rush through trying on 10 dresses, find all necessary accessories, and she begins to prep and primp with friends. I am very pleased for her. Until I see her ready to go and it hits me again. ~~rapid aging sucks~~ She is not so little anymore. An honest-to-goodness young lady.

So, to Jimmy Neutron, or the universe, I say slow the heck down!

No Mom Allowed

2010-09-30T05:30:00.002-04:00

A few months before I turned 16, I moved to FL. Before the departure, my dad asked me where I would like to go for a special dinner, a 16th birthday tradition he celebrated with each of his daughters. I considered various locations and settled on The Pump Room (Chicago). Looking back I probably chose it largely because it sounded so snobby and I had seen it many times while bumming around Michigan Ave.

So it was that an evening in January found the two of us having dinner. I, being my most grown-up self, ordered cream of asparagus soup. Imagine my surprise when the soups were brought and I had placed before me a bowl containing nothing but some bright green asparagus tips. Shock must have been evident and my dad asked what was wrong. I leaned toward him and in a conspiratorial whisper I said "Dad, there's no soup?" He looked into my bowl, and hiding a grin he asked me if that was not what I ordered. Just as I was about to answer he said, "Ah, I believe this is what you were waiting for!" As the waiter poured the cream soup into my bowl. The rest of the meal went smoothly and was followed by a carriage ride down Michigan Ave. An evening fit for a sweet sixteen.

Tonight Teen will embark on her own "Dad and Me" sweet 16 dinner. She chose a fondue restaurant and her dad dutifully made the reservation. He has informed her that dress attire is expected and she seems excited. I will be sad to miss out on her 16th birthday dinner, but I am thrilled for the memories she and her dad are building. Hopefully there is cheese in their fondue pot!
Happy Birthday Teen!!

Career Planning

2010-09-28T16:03:00.001-04:00

It starts young these days. Children being asked what they aspire to be and how they will achieve these goals. As parents we run hither and yon (yea for vocab!) giving our children opportunities to experience the world through sports, music, arts, and culture. We strive to broaden their worlds and their knowledge.So, I shouldn't have been surprised by the following exchange with Youngest...

me: "I do not want to hear can't from you anymore. You can if you just try." (insert lecture here)

Youngest: "Oh - so you mean I just need to keep practicing?"

me: "Yes! (sees sun shining through clouds) You can do things if you work for them."

A brief pause in the conversation while she absorbs this information...

Youngest: "Well then, if I keep practicing my rollerskating I'll get better and better. 'Cuz I am getting a little bit better each time."

me: "That is exactly right and it's the same with anything that is hard at first."

Youngest : "So Mom, I can get really good and one day I can get a job at the ROLLER RINK! Or maybe that place with the food and the girls on skates - Sonic!! I could be good enough to work there!"

me: "Uh - yeah...I guess you could."

Youngest, Teen, Boy and Cousins skating over the summer.

Umm...Where Did It Go?

2010-08-19T07:33:00.000-04:00

The stores are filled with paper and crayons. Kids eyes widen at the sight of new backpacks and lunchboxes. Parents rush children to barbers and beauty salons to tame unruly locks...summer is ending.

I love summer. It is my dose of stay-at-home-mommyness. We go on outings, play in the pool and relax. It is the time of year that guests are most likely to find a clean house and stocked fridge. Lists are made of projects to complete and ways to improve for next year. I read many books and relax on the porch. A wonderful time indeed. Alas, as happens every year, it has ended.

But the end of the best season of all does not have to be all negative...

Ok, I'm sure it isn't but give me a minute since my brain is on overload from all the meetings and work I've been doing to prep my room and update my curriculum....

Well, maybe we can come back to that at a later blog. Which I cross my heart will not take a month or more to post!

Happy school everyone!

If the Name Fits

2010-06-29T09:29:00.000-04:00

My husband came home from the gym last week and said we were going to have a house guest coming the next day for a week. There was no need to kill him as this guest did not require the beds to be stripped and remade or even a spotless house. We would be dog sitting for a friend of his. A little wiener dog, appropriately named, Oscar.

The kids were thrilled, I was underwhelmed. (but supportive - good karma and all that) Tuesday am the little guy made his appearance. Complete with little cage and unexplainable large food and water bowls. He happily integrated himself into the house and yard, barely casting a backwards glance to his owners. He hasn't cried or whined once. He has had exactly one accident. All-in-all he is nearly the perfect guest.

EXCEPT he is driving our Daisy insane. She can not be on the ground for more than 5 minutes without the dirty old man bothering her. She has taken many different approaches to the issue. She has tried moving away, growling, nipping, and whining at my feet. Nothing phases him. He is determined to be near her. The fact that his parts don't work and she is disgusted doesn't phase him a bit. Daisy now gets to sit on the couch for the week as wiener-dog tries diligently to live up to his name.

Falling Off the Roof

2010-06-22T08:18:00.002-04:00

One pleasant morning everyone was busy playing and relaxing. Boy and Hubby had gone outside to test fly Boy's new light weight remote control helicopter. They hadn't been gone long when Boy came in to tell me, "Dad got it stuck on the roof."

Being the ~~nosy~~ helpful creature I am, I went out to investigate. (Still sporting my slippers and PJ's) Hubby was warily eying the ladder and the roof when I arrived on the scene. Quickly sizing up the situation, I announced I would make the trek up the ladder. Hubby promptly held it stable as I climbed up to and then on the roof. I shimmied to the run away copter and returned to the roof edge with the prize. Hubby said he had the ladder and that I should watch my step getting onto the ladder. After making some flippant comment, as I've been known to do once or twice, I slid my slippered feet to the ladder. I am not sure, even now, exactly how it happened ~~I blame the slippers~~. I know I had felt the ladder rungs and then I didn't. Just as my brain registered it was about to be bashed into the walkway leading to the front door, I was landing in Hubby's arms.

He looked down at me cradled there and said, "Hello, love." While trying to swallow back my heart which had lately realized the danger and was threatening to escape through my mouth, I hugged him close, speechless. (Boy of course thought this was hilarious and cool all at the same time and was laughing and babbling excitedly.)

Though this happened over 2 years ago, it occurs to me today, on our wedding anniversary. There has never been a soul who I have felt is more firmly in my corner than my husband. And just as he illustrated so well that Christmas morn, we make a great team. So, to Hubby I say thank you, I love you ~~and it's a good thing you caught me, or I wouldn't have a story for today!~~

Dad's Stories

2010-06-18T09:02:00.002-04:00

I could have been listening to a recording. The morals and analogies echoing in my ears were as familiar as a comfortable pair of slippers. The tone was calm and meaningful and at some points the inflection was so accurate I was tempted to sneak a peek into the backseat. But, it would do no good.

It was not my father lecturing my teenage self. It was me! Lecturing Teen!

Her trespass, though not worthy of writing about, was enough to make me angry ~~as all hell~~. And it was in this state of heightened emotional distress that I seemed able to channel my father's spirit directly through my words. Amazing really, how quickly we can become our parents. Teen sat stoically answering when one was required, enduring the uncomfortable silences when ~~I was counting to 10 in my head so I wouldn't kill her~~ I paused the conversation for reflection. No sign of listening was readable on her face or in her actions.

But, I know she was absorbing every word. Just as I had when my father gave them to me. So, to my storytelling father who always has a point, and all fathers everywhere I wish you a Happy Father's Day! Your work is not in vain, as children we hear your messages and they become part of who we are.

Now, it's FatherHood Friday. So, go ahead, click the link to head over to DadBlogs and take a break to read some wonderful blogs by some wonderful people!

Wordless Wednesday

2010-06-16T09:05:00.001-04:00

First there was the excitement of this.

Look closely - the flower girls are peeping out of the door waiting for their turns.

Then there was a whole lotta this.

It's no wonder she ended up like this on Dad's lap.

An Oily Grief

2010-06-15T08:17:00.001-04:00

For those of us that have live in society it is a given: no matter the steps you take, you can be reaping what your neighbor sows. If that neighbor finds it to be financially practical to run a shooting range in his yard, no matter the steps taken for safety you may be playing in the yard with your family and end-up shot. The same can (and is) being said for oil drilling.

Please do not get me wrong, I am not going to moan about oil drilling. As with the neighbor running a shooting-parlor in his yard, it is a financial decision made by that neighbor. The neighbor never intended to harm himself or others, and I know this is the case with the oil steadily heading my way. What interests me is the attitude of grief that has fallen over most everyone I run into. Grief in its various stages and accompanied by various coping mechanisms is evident everywhere the talk turns to our Gulf.

There are the speechless head-shakers. These folks have no words for the sorrows they face and the tragedy that grows daily. They merely give a slow shake, and try valiantly to change the topic.

The deniers. These poor people cling desperately to the hope that this tragedy won't reach them and to the relatively-low numbers of reported deaths. Completely ignoring the fact that the majority of causalities are well below the surface and wouldn't ever wash to shore.

The angry warriors. These folks are pissed. At everyone. They rant about oversight and oil companies. Sarcastic and biting comments are made about the situation at large and a certain oil company in particular.

The we can fix-it people. "If we just head-out and do "xyz" we can save the ecosystem." "There needs to be a better plan," they reason. Or, worse yet, they pin their hopes on the fact that it will not spread and while the destruction is devastating it can be contained.

Nowhere is there a person without some level of grief or fear that the oil will wash its way upon our beaches. If not by natural tides, then surely by the next hurricane. I, personally am a "hope for the best prepare for the worst" kind of person. There is always hope. So, I will be heading to the beach with my kids today - as soon as I check my hurricane insurance to see if it covers oil-laden flood water.

Grass is Greener

2010-06-10T07:18:00.001-04:00

Way back when Hubby and I ran neighborhoods with the abandon and surety that comes with youth and knowing you are invincible we had a running joke about grass ~~as in lawns, jeez~~ Remember life was a bit simpler then. We actually went outside to skateboard.

The ramp being conveniently located a few miles from my house meant that we all spent a lot of time walking through neighborhoods. Since we weren't informed enough to talk politics ~~at the ripe old age of 15~~ and we spent many, many hours cruising the town we would talk about anything. Front lawns were right there. They are diverse some with nice thick grass, while others are weed infested and sport bald patches. There was a house somewhere with green, lush grass that called to me. I proclaimed that the grass looked soft ~~and my feet were tired~~. We had a seat near a curb and the grass was in fact luxuriously soft and thick. I'm sure I hammed it up a bit then we moved on. But, the tradition had begun. When boredom hit, or a walk brought us through new neighborhoods, we would rate the lawns with me running ahead to touch the grass for the feel-it test.

Fast forward too many years to count and we live in Sunnyville. The grass here is what Northerners would attack with hands or weed killer. It is infested with bugs of every size and shape. Not where you want to lie back and look up at the sky. But our children seem to have the need for "soft grass" embedded in their genes.

So, every time we hit the north-of-fire-ants line they feel a need to just lie in the grass. This was exactly what happened while we were visiting the Statue of Liberty. The grass there wasn't even up to my teen standards, but we made do.

Wordless Wednesday

2010-06-09T08:15:00.001-04:00

I guess they do clean-up pretty well.

Italian Feast

2010-06-08T07:41:00.000-04:00

An Italian family can overwhelm on the best of days. Put said family at a celebration and you better be prepared for overwhelming noise, public displays of affection, and unbridled joy.

At the end of our long road trip, we found ourselves smack in the middle of just such chaos. It was the evening of the "rehearsal dinner." As this was an occasion to be celebrated, a smallish Italian restaurant was chosen and fully half was being used to house the intimate dinner for seventy. Coming from quiet Sunnyville, it always takes the kids a bit of time to acclimate. Boy sat quietly next to his dad taking in the conversations & giving hugs to family - groom and bride included. Youngest began the evening in a relatively subdued manner as well. Sitting and waiting to see what would happen next. As could be expected from children who sport more Italian and Irish in their blood than anything else, it didn't take too long for them to acclimate.

Total acclimation was achieved when Boy watched his Uncle eat a pepper. After taking a bite, Uncle had been offering the pleasurable sensation of burning tongue to anyone who might want to have a go. No takers. Until Boy announced, "I'll eat it for $20." Come now, is it in the male gene somewhere that eating unpleasant things should come with bets?

Uncle took the bet, threw a pepper on the table and before anyone could so much as utter "WAIT!" Boy had popped the fire-veggie into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. This act was swiftly followed by the downing of 2 water glasses, 1 Coke, and 1 glass of milk ordered especially for him. Copious amounts of bread were taken in at the time as well. When I returned to the table from a bit of mingling ~~you didn't honestly think I would have allowed this to occur if I had been there did you?~~ Boy was looking a bit green. Hubby filled me in, as he ushered Boy out for some fresh air ~~hoping against hope that the vomiting would wait until they were out of doors~~

Though Boy was unable to eat dinner that night, he had $20 in his pocket and what's more, he was quickly becoming news around the feast. Family friends on seeing the pallor of Boy and in the spirit of good-humored ribbing, proclaimed $20 to be far too little for his achievement. As Boy told his story, received his hugs, and reveled in the laughter, this "too little" recurring theme seemed clear. Boy, who understands a good thing when he hears it, agreed whole-heartedly. Sure enough, as he was telling his tale around the room, his $20 bill, was taken in exchange for a $50. Did I mention my kids acclimate fast?

The Road Trip

2010-06-07T07:36:00.000-04:00

Let me begin by saying all rest areas are not created equally. Some states offer the luxury rest stop: ample, shaded, picnicking grounds for the weary traveler. Bathrooms that never cause you to wonder who sat here before. Maps and welcome centers that give the cramped wanderer an excuse to stretch sore legs.

However, none of that will matter if the words, "Mom, I have to go potty," aren't spoken until you are 100 ft from the rest area traveling at 80mph in the far left lane. Yup, on those occasions you will often be forced to hit the gas station. Not an ideal choice. So, if you find yourself hitting the road this summer with a vehicle full of kids and a destination in mind I offer some tips:

1. Pay attention to rest area markers - some states offer a rest area every 30-40 miles. These states are the all-time best. When a rest area is missed you have an idea of how much longer you will need to sing along with VeggieTales to keep full bladders distracted until you can stop.

~ In the event you are traveling through a rest area-deprived state, go to the biggest truck stop you see. There are gadgets and gizmo's in there you had probably never imagined. And the bathrooms here tend to be clean.

2. Since duct taping small bickering mouths shut is frowned upon in virtually every state through which you are bound to travel, having MP3 players and portable DVD's is incredibly helpful. If you are blessed enough that your player doesn't blow a fuse and works for you - the most argument you will hear is what movie to play next and whose turn it is to pick it.

~ But if it does blow a fuse, the truck stop is bound to have replacements.

3. If you will be traveling to the Northeast bring lots of money for tolls. Culture shock is a definite possibility for those that live in a relatively free-travel area. Take a deep breath and be sure to enjoy the bridges - because they will cost you an amount equivalent to viewing a blockbuster movie on opening night. At some points, you may wonder when they will be asking for your first born. We were spared this experience, but we didn't travel too far into the area. It seems a definite possibility.

4. Eventually you are bound to reach your destination. If traveling with small children I strongly suggest some down-time when you arrive. They are bound to be babbling, wiggling maniacs for a bit - not the first impression you want to impose on friends or relatives you don't see regularly.

~ A quick visit to a park or any area they can run and play will give them a chance to burn-off energy and make them acceptable company. They will be less likely to hang from the chandeliers or start a wrestling competition in the home of those nearest and dearest.

Happy Travels!

hiatus

2010-06-06T09:50:00.000-04:00

Living through the end of a school year can be a difficult thing. Students are antsy. There are a million things to be done. Kids want to play outside later and as a result have to roused more fully before they are able to open sleep bleary eyes to begin their days.
There are end-of-the-year performances, plays, and certificate ceremonies. Schedules are off and dinner is often served when bed time routines should be happening. Chaos in the best of times.
This year that chaos was compounded by a wonderful obligation. The seashore family was heading to the big apple for a wedding. A very exciting prospect, especially for Youngest as she was selected by her Godfather for the role of flower girl #2. There was packing to be done, car to be packed, sub plans to make, and arrangements for Oldest, who couldn't attend due to finals, to sort through and double check. Eventually we got everything sorted and organized enough to leave Sunnyville behind for a long weekend. A trip and a time full of stories and observations.
So, while I may have taken a month-long hiatus, it is now officially summer and I am back! Look for a few articles about the trip that while they may not offer full bellied laughs, are sure to be good for an appreciative "hmmm!" Or maybe even a chuckle or two! See you tomorrow!

Crabs and Comfort

2010-05-14T07:19:00.002-04:00

It was one of the coveted picnic locations. A covered picnic table, a view of the lagoon and canal, and a short jaunt from the beach. For the day, it would serve as base camp.

Moments after the gear was dumped onto tables and benches, the kids + Hubby made a beeline for the lagoon. Youngest was immediately distraught by the amount of life that could be found under her feet. At each of Boy's new discoveries: Horse Conchs, misc feeder fish her unease increased. But the topper was the discovery of various crabs. The lagoon is a virtual crab nursery. At this not-so-rare and amazing discovery Boy set out to catch every one he could nab or lure. Youngest refused to place even a piggy within striking distance of pinchers she imagined were awaiting her first misstep. Soon cousins were on-hand to aid in crab catching. Buckets filled with water and misc. crabs decorated our base. Taking pity on his sister, Boy offered her a bucket of Conchs (think big sea snail) which she enjoyed enormously.

There was much fun to be had by all. Adults were able to visit while enjoying the escapades of the youngsters. Trips were made to the beach where everyone swam and kids only buried one another in sand sarcophagi (no adult volunteered - having learned the discomfort of sand trapped in suits long ago) There was kayaking, and the enjoyment of the company of others. A day of sun and fun sure to lead to an early bedtime.

Back home after all wildlife had been returned to its sanctuary, the kids were cleaned and nestled into bed.
About an hour after final good-nights were given, a slow steady creak announced the opening of Youngest's door. Bleary-eyed and unfocused she stumbled into the living room.
me: "What are you doing up honey."
youngest: "I can't sleep."
me: thinking *obviously* "Why not?"
youngest: "I'm uncomfortable with crabs."

yup, that would do it, I thought. However, have no fear; Youngest didn't then ~~nor has she at any time~~ actually have crabs. She merely was considering crabs and how they could come out of the water, grow to the size of the minivan, and destroy her family. Bless her innocent little heart. ~~and curse her bad mommy's potty brain that made the leap and had to bite her lip to keep from giggling.~~

Now, it's Friday! Yippee! So, you know what to do: click this link and head over to DadBlogs to read some great stories by moms and dads who probably don't have their thoughts in the gutter.

This n That

2010-05-13T07:09:00.000-04:00

In honor of Thursday this post with be reflecting the jumble of thoughts that hit as the work week nears its end ~~but still refuses to die~~.

~ A boy had come calling to talk with Teen a few times. She politely blew him off both times. When ~~teased~~ questioned about her lack of interest, she responded to the effect that he looks like a good kid, but dad and I wouldn't like him. Last weekend I saw him outside the local grocery store, looking for cigarettes! Lesson: Don't judge a kid by his haircut and clothes!

~ We are getting a litter of puppies vaccinated and certified today. There were eight in this very unexpected litter. We had spent 3 weeks listening to daddy-dog cry and mommy-dog looking sad while we kept them completely apart. One morning they managed to sneak off together and we have been paying the price for 8 weeks. Lesson: Love finds a way. (Daddy-dog is now fixed and mommy-dog has an appt.)

~ I broke-down and bought a new bed recently. After scouting some ads hubby and I walked into a store, completely unaware of the procedure. We haggled, negotiated, almost walked out and ended-up with a floor model at a far more reasonable price. Lesson: Contrary to my previous belief, buying a bed is NOT like buying a shirt. It is far more like buying a car - yuck!

~ Speaking of cars, we had to buy one of those this week too! Yep - things are crazy here. After leaving Hubby's car for the junk yard ~~at 200+K if it were a horse it would have fallen down dead~~ we replaced his car. Today, I get to drive it - so he can take the puppies in the van. Yea, me!

As anyone can see, I need the weekend to come. If for no other reason than to clear out the cobwebs in my mind. Hope the rest of your week is peaceful!

Tenacity - Mom's Gift

2010-05-08T22:48:00.002-04:00

"Your mom is always so organized and calm. Did she ever get mad when you were a kid?" These are the types of statements I hear about my mom when I take my kids to their pediatrician. (See, my mother is my pediatrician's accountant, which is very helpful when she needs to run one to the dr. for me.)

I always say she IS just a great mom. Then Mom and I laugh about how people perceive one another. After 15 years, it is pretty much a standing joke. Let me explain. My mother had six kids. Having half that many myself, let me assure you, raising kids without ever yelling is impossible ~~unless you are physically unable to speak~~.

And my mom was a yeller. To the point where she would yell at you, leave the room, think of another trespass, and yell at you from another room or even another level of the house! Not. Exaggerating.

Heck, the woman stands 5'2 and teen boys were terrified of her wrath ~~my husband included~~.

The ability to seem imposing is one of the gifts imparted to me. There is no way I could keep 40+ 7th grade boys in line each day without screaming if I didn't have some skill in the fine art of seeming to be more scary than I am.

Her ability to pick herself up after the collapse of a 20 year marriage and return to school was phenomenal. But even more so, was the fact that she did this while 3 children were still at home needing care and 2 were in college. I can even remember sitting in the college lounge doing homework while she was in class ~~mostly I remember the hot chocolate vending machine~~.(she went on to own her own accounting firm)This model may be the reason I was able to return to college and complete my degree barely a week before Youngest was born.

She is a feisty, strong woman who made it known to her children that there was nothing a little hard work and a lot of commitment wouldn't achieve. She lead by example and with a ton of love. For that I am eternally thankful. Happy Mother's Day!

The Ants Go Marching

2010-05-07T07:32:00.000-04:00

It was Teen's spring concert event. She required an early drop-off, just minutes away. The kids were eating, an early and easy meal of frozen pizza and applesauce, Dad was squeezing in his gym-time. So, I left Boy and Youngest at the table to run Teen to pre-concert rehearsal. Simple, multi-need family juggling.

Upon returning, 15 minutes later, Youngest is scootering in the driveway. Her face is pulled down in a frown, announcing to the world at large there is a problem in her realm. She waits for me and being the obliging mother I ask what is going-on.

Bravely she begins to tell me about her hatred for ants. "THEY DESTROY EVERYTHING!" She exclaims as the sobs begin. Great gulping sobs of sorrow and pity.

Wondering if she spied a dead bird serving as a meal for a nearby colony, I ask her why. "They KILLED a caterpillar!" As she collapses into my arms, looking for relief from the cruelness of nature.

I console and cajole her, as I try to scarf down a slice of pizza while comforting and picking a dress for her. Yes, moms should be given attachable limbs at the birth of their first child. Just as I feel she is beyond the worst, may be listening to me remind her that ants eat dead things, "They're garbage collectors, the caterpillar was surely dead," Boy notices the commotion playing out in front of him. In an effort to console, he tells her, "I saved it. I got the ants off and put it in the grass." Bless his heart. I know he was trying merely to appease her. But now there are torrents of tears streaming down her face. Because she knows a dead caterpillar, and that bug was dead.

A search of the area ensues. I left this to the kids, as I really needed to eat something before we left in 3.5 minutes. No caterpillar miracle had been worked. So, I slyly changed the subject, by pulling out Youngest's favorite dress. Threw it over her head and took the sniffling, teary-eyed one and Boy to meet-up with family and listen to a delightful evening of strings. Ahhh parenting.

To read more great parenting blurbs and bits, head on over to DadBlogs. There are many gifted writers waiting to share with you!

Just one last thing...

2010-04-30T19:16:00.000-04:00

The house has been thoroughly cleaned, all the laundry is washed, folded, and away. It is the morning of departure. A weekend away at long last.

Kids clothes - check

tents - check

kitchen supplies - check

bath and pool needs etc - check

my clothes - uhhh, where are my clothes?

Ahh, crap. I didn't pack yet. Soon, this leads to exasperated head shake from husband and children who are running around like they are bovine suffering from mad cow disease. Ok, quickly throw the pile I planned into a bag, and hand it off to the van-packing patrol. We. Are. Good. To. Go.

Uhhh, just one more minute, hon. Ignore head shake number two from Hubby. Quickly run over to the sink to hand wash the few dishes created while I was busy tossing my wardrobe into a duffel. Double crap, there is food waste in the can - have to tie that up and bring it out. Double check the note to neighbor about dogs' and other assorted animals' needs while we are gone. OK. Done.

Actually sitting in the car...Double crap. Hop out and just make sure ~~at this point Hubby gives his most exassperated head shake of the morning~~ the doors are closed, everything off, AC is turned way up. In the house once again, notice a used cup on the table and a plate on the desk, quick wash. Ok, we're gone.

In the car, Hubby wants to know: why stress so much? A conversation we have had many, many times before. For some reason, men just don't seem to get it. Or maybe it's just me? Let me know what you think...

After you comment - head on over to DadBlogs for Fatherhood Friday. Check out some great stories. You won't regret this one last thing!!

If - At the Park

2010-04-28T05:45:00.047-04:00

Spring is here and as surely as night follows day summer will soon be welcoming everyone to its long afternoons and family get-a-ways . With this in mind, I have decided to post a public service message to those families embarking on theme park excursions. A way to keep your head if you will...

If you can keep your cash when all about you

are spending theirs and coming to you

Encouraging ~~forcing~~ children to earn their spending money ahead of time is a plus (We made ours volunteer a day to earn their tickets) Also helpful is using the gift shops as an attraction - not an area to spend. We prefer to try things on, take pics and move-on. "Yeah, you look great in that hat - and now we have a pic, what more do you need?"

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

but make allowances for their doubting too;

Have a map - preferably before hand or make time to plan a route. Heck, they're free ~~and make great pseudo-souvenirs~~ get a map for everyone and let the kids see where you are and where you are headed. Personally, I like the rest stops!

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting

The waiting sucks, and it is tiring. In families with various ages, sending older ones off to hit certain activities is a great plan. Photo happy moments are strongly encouraged whenever you cross their paths. ~~To prove later in life that they were in fact present~~

Or being cut and shoved, don't lose your smiles

Or facing hunger, allow for snacking

Keep your backpack stocked with water and easy snacks. It is well worth the extra line.

Think of the exercise, your burning miles!

Especially on the hike back to your car!

If you can walk with crowds and keep your cool

Or be rained on - be prepared for rain, the parks empty and the ponchos are a fortune - bring your own

Or watch your princess fill with a joyous flush

If teens take sibs willingly to swim the pool

Let them! Enjoy your break, grab a drink and walk over later!

If kids say thank you in a spontaneous gush

Come-on what parent doesn't eat that up?

If you can find your hubby's perfect toy

Go ahead a splurge - who doesn't like a keepsake?

And accommodations in which to sleep

Yours is the world filled with enchantment and joy

And which is more - memories to keep

(ok a bit long winded - but blame Kipling!)

A Letter to the Court?

2010-04-20T06:59:00.000-04:00

I was mentally giving myself a head-slap as my feet hit the floor this morning. Why oh why don't I keep a notebook to jot down ideas as they come? Feeling extremely deflated I went to Yahoo news and read this story. Ok, you don't want to click - I get it.

The gist is that Cameron Douglas has all kinds of people asking for leniency in his sentencing. He plead guilty to dealing crystal meth and cocaine, but he had a difficult life. It's tough to be a raised by millionaires and movie stars.

I do believe he has issues. It is doubtful that anyone turns from a perfect life to addiction and felonies. Money and fame are not the foundation of good parenting and happiness. And while there ought to be better ways to handle addicts there simply doesn't seem to be any system in place in this country.

But, if money, privilege, and eloquently written letters are the basis of our legal system there is a problem.

Don't Molest the Manatees

2010-04-15T07:36:00.002-04:00

(I am aware that I have been on an unexplained leave. A busy work schedule, spring prep, and the usual nonsense have conspired to keep me so busy or exhausted I haven't written. But, please please give me another chance! Summer is coming soon and with it a renewed dedication to a sense of fun!)

Manatees, we all know what they are. And if you don't I suggest adding more Diego or Zoboomafoo to your TV diet. My family took a trip specifically to swim in the same water as them last year. There are all kinds of laws and etiquette involved in swimming with manatees. They are very protected. And though we all know it is the propellers of boats that are responsible for the maiming and killing of these gentle creatures, the law makers seem determined that people swimming are to be monitored because we are (apparently) dangerous.

Being the law respecting, nature loving person I am neither I nor my family has ever molested a manatee in any way. I do not swim with heads of lettuce in the hopes of attracting sea cows and I do not enter protected areas. But a recent camping trip made all of these precautions irrelevant.

The spring run was gorgeous, even if cold; it was spring break and my sister and I had 8 kids to entertain. Of course we were going tubing. Everyone had a float/tube to relax and soak in the pristine nature. As I shoved Youngest's float away from the dock it occurred to me that she wasn't wearing a personal flotation device. Ughh. I would need to stay near, as we haven't swam in a bit.

Once the shock of the 72 degree water faded, leaving everyone's legs and torso's nicely numbed, we were prepared to head down river. Oh, yeah we heard the ranger trying to call us back to the dock, but we were in the current...what was there to do but float? Just as we turned a slight bend in the river we met AJ. He introduced himself to us in no uncertain terms. It began with him changing direction and swimming our way. He got really close then turned a flip in the water.

No, Aj was not a teen boy eager to meet Teen and her two friends. AJ is a manatee, a VERY friendly manatee. Swimming near our pack of floaters was not enough. He would stick his snout above the water directly in front of Teen. He was swimming under our feet and brushing against our legs. Even when we tried to open our circle (for fear the aquatic animal would feel trapped) he continued to nudge and play. Stealing furtive glances to the shore, in fear of the wrath of the ranger, I tried to enjoy the spectacle before me. Kids laughing, Boy noting AJ's tracker and his name branded into his back, everyone feeling the joy of the situation and the wonder that is an unplanned encounter with nature. But I was worried about the repercussions. What if we were accused of molesting this poor soul?

After we had our experience, and my fear of the law overwhelmed me, we tried to paddle our floats, moving away from AJ. Laying across my float, holding onto Youngest I noticed she was moving further away. I pulled her toward me only to see that AJ was under her raft. He was lifting her slightly with his back and playing with her. Remembering she was not wearing a life jacket and could possible panic I calmly continued working her off the manatee. AJ in response rose from the water between us taking a breath, giving a turn, and going under. I eventually shoved Youngest toward Teen and Boy and went around AJ to rejoin the group. So, while I am all for protecting the manatees, what can you do when a manatee is molesting you?

Spring Break Has Sprung

2010-03-26T07:23:00.000-04:00

It's Friday! While for me that means many wonderful things, for you it is a great opportunity to visit Dad Blogs and read some great posts at Fatherhood Friday.

Spring may have sprung a week ago, but more celebrated by far is the fact that starting today spring break has sprung. It is the little taste of summer before the real thing descends in force, the teaser that makes the last 9 weeks of school ~~without a single break~~ drag-on like the responsibility lecture your parents gave you as a teen. Here in Sunnyville this spring break is different from the many that have come before. It seems unclear how things will play out, plans may require altering and previously planned activities are now seeming precarious. The culprit? Weather.

Though I have spent the very long winter biting my tongue, largely for fear of being lynched by those of you suffering snowstorms, the time has come for an airing of Sunnyville's unusual weather. Down here in the US jungle, there are predictable patterns. It is DRY in the winter, it rains daily in the summer which is really convenient if you like to take a sauna on your lunch hour. Sweaters are almost obsolete as they are worn for roughly 2 weeks of the year, and what a waste of closet space that is. Camping and outdoor activities are pursued with gusto in the spring. It is hot enough to swim and predictably sunny. But not this year.

This winter has sent parents scrambling for coats and long sleeved shirts to outfit children who chafe at the mere mention of jeans. In an effort to remain upbeat I reminded myself and my children many times it would be only too soon that they would be sweating and wishing for a cool breeze. But painting an upbeat attitude about rain in March? That is beyond even my Pollyanna abilities.

And now we are faced with the dilemma of our traditional mom & kids camping excursion. Last year we were sweating and swimming. This year they may or may not have opened the spring run because the Manatees are still huddling for warmth. Last year there wasn't a cloud in the sky, this year there exists a 30% chance of rain! Teen says not to worry, they will find plenty to do. I am sure Teen and her friends will. It is my sister, her kids, my younger kids, and me I am worried about! Note to self: pack plenty of crafts, games, and beer.

Mood Elevator

2010-03-19T07:03:00.000-04:00

It's Fatherhood Friday. So (as soon as you have posted a comment for me!) click the link and read some wonderful insights by some great people.

You know those moments. The times when kids are more like demon-spawn than the precious little bundles of joy you proudly held soon after birth. You're last nerve has been worked upon and you are just crabby. You think to yourself, why do I bother - no one seems grateful or to even notice you are alive.

Of course, these things have never happened to you. But perhaps you have read about them or seen them on TV.

I think Hubby may have found the perfect fix to times such as these. While I lounged moody and brooding upon the couch last night, he began by attempting conversation. I was pleasant, but he could tell the irritations of the day hadn't gone peacefully to sleep with the children. He asked what he could do, and I hesitated. After all the guy had only just sat down after working and taking Teen et al to the gym and doing his own workout and then taxi service. I know he was tired too. But eventually it came out.

I wanted cheesecake. Something we do NOT keep in the house (it's taboo - like cookies, cake, and donuts) So, he said no problem. He checked to be sure there was nothing else needed around the house and then he left. Returning with a bit of heaven in a package. I had a slice while he ate his late dinner and we visited while we both ate. My mood was indeed improved.

A Morning Adventure

2010-03-10T07:05:00.000-05:00

The stress-free testing day morning plan was coming together perfectly. We were cruising along at a fair clip. Teen had been dropped at school, Boy and Youngest were dressed and ready.

Garbage had been taken to the curb for collection. Simple lunches were packed and ready. Dogs were watered, fed, and in the yard. It was 5 full minutes before necessary departure time and we were heading out the door.

Relishing in the glory of a well orchestrated morning, I climbed into the car.

As I shifted the van into reverse, everything changed. Darting out from an unknown escape route, Ollie the Springer Spaniel bolted into the drive. Cajoling, holding the car door, begging and swearing in turns I attempted to lure the beast into the van. Up and down the street he capered, looking back to beckon us to continue the game.

After 10 minutes of torture I was forced to make an executive decision. I left. Soothing the kids with thoughts that he may return home on his own ~~while my mind insisted he would suffer the fate of countless 'possums~~ I headed to an errand that needed running before school. Guilt won. With errand complete and time ticking away, we headed home to put the other dogs inside, in case Ollie passed on his escapist tricks.

As we neared home ~~definitely not early or relaxed anymore~~, six sharp eyes looked toward houses for our Houdini dog. With a sigh and no knowledge of Ollie's whereabouts, I cut through the house to let the dogs in. Of course upon opening the door the first dog to spring into the view was our escapist, Ollie. Springers are a lovable, loyal breed but they require the security of Fort Knox.

Pride & Laughter

2010-03-06T09:29:00.004-05:00

Children offer parents many opportunities to feel ~~like banging their heads against a wall is a good idea~~ frustration and pride. I know many parents who are proud of the choices their children make, who beam with joy at sporting functions, and who shine at school activities. These parents will proudly point out their child among the throng of youngsters and beam with love.

I also know many parents who are extremely judgmental of other kids. Catching a quick glance at outward appearances and passing a verdict on said youngster's future, parents, and overall emotional state. Though frequently unfair, these judgments are a fact of society.

Being a not-made-for-TV family, on any given day my kids may provide any combination of the above scenarios. In order to keep our sanity somewhat intact, Hubby and I glory in and laugh at what others may see as negatives.

Just recently Teen played in an orchestra fund raising concert at a chain steak house. Due to the relaxed atmosphere, the kids were decked out in their polo shirts and jeans. They were neat and presentable, said Teen included. Wherever she may be, Teen has an individuality that sets her apart and offers parents many opportunities to tsk-tsk, while I am fascinated by her independent nature. As we listened and watched I pointed out to Hubby that he was parent to the only child with an unnatural hair color in the entire orchestra. Hubby's response was that "we-won-pull-your-fist-back" gesture accompanied by an enthusiastic "YES!"

(note the cellist with the blue hair)

Then it happened that there was a dreaded teacher-email in my inbox yesterday. When your child's name is the subject line, you can bet there is a problem. So it was with sinking stomach and tightening nerves that I read through the pleasantries to the meat of the problem. Seems Boy is having difficulties with one of his 5th grade teachers. His response to his frustration was the source of the problem. (see excerpt below)

He got mad at Ms. "X" on Wednesday and wrote an restraining order against her. This is what it said:

Mrs. "X" must stay at least ten feet away from "Boy" forever or "Boy" has the right to sue Mrs. "X" for everything she owns. signed: "Boy."

Well, he asked me to sign one and I refused after trying to talk with him. Unfortunately, he made two of them and gave Mrs "X" one.

For many parents this would be mortifying. For me, not so much. The issue with the teacher aside, I felt a warming sense of hilarity. So much in fact, that I shared it with coworkers, Hubby, and sisters. I mean heck, anyone can get angry, but it takes a special gift to write an injunction!

Thursday's Thoughts

2010-03-04T17:01:00.000-05:00

It is Thursday and while that means nothing special to many, it provides me a brain-download opportunity in the form of Thursday's thoughts.

1. This is my 101st post. It took over a year to post 100 blogs...I seem to be lacking regularity.

2. While I don't enjoy a messy house, I do endorse a well-used home. So, I am trying to refrain from freaking-out when all the girls are over playing rock band after school.

3. State testing is a bit like mass-hysteria. You don't want to panic, but you see others and wonder why you feel calm. Next the kids feel stress and then the parents succumb. So you wonder. Should I cram something else? Why am I relaxed?

4. When I walk into the gym at 5 am I want to know what all those people are so chipper about. Do they not know they should be home in bed?

5. Due to an unending chill in the air, I have been granted many opportunities to wear this wonderful scarf given to be by Nonna. Love the colors! But wish I could pack it away now.

Now, I need to go cram more knowledge into 7th grade brains before the test next week!

Dad Does What?

2010-02-19T05:30:00.003-05:00

As a child I had a vague idea of what my father did for a living. He worked in the John Hancock building, he had seats at the White Sox games, and sometimes he took us to the circus to sit in "work" seats. I remember him pointing to the tarp used to cover the field during a rain delay at a Sox game and explaining that the phrase, "Near North covers the infield" was his work. Somehow, I had learned it was insurance.

But, knowing these things lent no real concept to what it was he did all day. As a 5th grader struggling through long division, I sat in his office, read his door plaque and it hit me. I looked to my dad and asked, "Since you're the division manager, can you help me with my math?" Yes, I was clueless as to why he broke into gales of laughter...

That brings me to the present. Kids today tend to have a better idea of what it is their parents do all day. Just the other day Youngest was telling me, "boys want to grow-up and do a job like Dad's."

"Really?" I inquired, "Why, what does Dad do at work?"

Youngest: "He goes into his office at work. The ladies all work, but he stays in his office and sometimes he goes out and talks to them."

Me: "Oh yeah? And what does he do in his office?"

Youngest: "He has a whole bunch of paper in there. Sometimes he writes on it."

Me: "So writing on paper is his job?"

Youngest: "Well, he doesn't work with the ladies and he has a whole bunch of paper. Oh and he sits at his desk too. There's a computer there, right in front of him. So, I guess he does the computer too."

There you have it, management summed up in a neat little kindergarten package.

Now, it's Fatherhood Friday, so click this link and read some great blogs by some great people!

Peaceful Morning Interrupted

2010-02-18T06:46:00.000-05:00

Did you ever wonder...

This post has been interrupted by the early rising of 2 smallish children. The need to pack lunches, make breakfast, and otherwise take over parenting tasks has reared its ugly head an hour ahead of schedule.

Though I will be foregoing my quiet time today, I strongly urge you to take some time and read some great material available at the following locations: Surprised Mom, BellaDaddyBlog, Being Michael's Daddy, & World of Weasels.

Enjoy some great reading and check-back tomorrow for a great fatherhood friday edition.

It Works for Us

2010-02-14T23:11:00.000-05:00

We all know the classic rules of romance. Wine and dine, romantic words, and stolen glances across crowded rooms. From the beginning of my relationship with my hubby, we have never met the conventions of traditional romance.

From spending our teen nights hanging out in a field, or talking on the phone 1200 miles apart to mutually deciding the time get married had arrived as we drove down the highway with our one-year-old laughing in the backseat, we have had our own way of doing things. Comfortable, loving, fun, with a touch of sarcasm thrown-in to keep life interesting. So when a holiday comes along that sets standards of how we should behave in our relationship, it should come as no surprise that we tend to rebel.

We did go out for a dinner alone - but it was Saturday. This was followed in the distinctly non-romantic venue of a local comedy club where we met some friends and laughed until the tears rolled. After this, we made a stop to pick-up treats for our little valentines. Romantic? Certainly not by any traditional standard ever established by a group of my peers.

Today found us hanging out at home. With youngest in bed with strep, we had nixed all weekend family plans. The house was full of family and we stole the living room to watch a comedy while the kids were doing their own things. We spent the early evening out alone. Ahhh - you're thinking, romance at last. Well, it could be. If you find teasing and laughing your way through the grocery store romantic. It sounds lame to many, I know.

But to me it isn't the place, it's all about the company. His laughing, "I love you" after a particularly goofy dance across the room is better than a diamond pendant. Now, it's off to eat some more chocolate. What? Some traditions are worth keeping!

Conference Code Confessions

2010-02-12T19:21:00.006-05:00

It's Friday! So read this...then head over to DadBlogs for some really great reading. You won't regret it.

Parent-teacher conferences, they can be moments of great inspiration or moments of quiet dread.

As a parent of three I have experienced both ends of the spectrum. As a teacher of more than a few ~~minutes~~ years, I have experienced each end as well. For both parties, ~~surprise surprise~~ there is a code, a secret language that transpires at such gatherings. Life and conferences progress much easier when both parties keep to the code.

But, for those who haven't experienced the dread conference and never will ~~I know you're knocking on wood now, aren't you~~ I am going to confess the thoughts behind both parites:

Teacher: She is a bright student, she just isn't applying herself

means: There are more gaps in her gradebook entries than there are in a schizophrenic's memory.

Parent: We have been working on this at home.

means: We have cajoled, yelled, grounded, bribed, and screamed the next step is WHAT?

Teacher: We've noticed a recent change in his friends and behavior.

means: You better keep an eye on your son. His new friends make the drug cartels look kind.

Parents: She just never talks about school.

means: She has clammed up tighter than Scrooge's wallet at a charity auction.

Teacher: We strongly encourage the students to practice and take-on more responsibility.

means: We are not going to call after every class with and update. OR Please stop doing your kid's homework!

Parents: Math is taught completely differently than when I was a kid.

means: You are the teacher, teach! OR I hate math, so you need to do it at school - stop sending me homework!

Teacher: I'm glad we could work out this communication issue.

means: It is completely understandable that you would believe your child over the AP. We always bust/fail/report kids for doing nothing - it's how we get our kicks.

Parents: I just don't see how this could have happened in the classroom.

means: Hello! Are you even watching my kid?

Obviously, when we use the code everyone gets along. If you find yourself at a loss for code just remember everyone is there for the child. And vent through another venue...a blog for instance.

As My Teen Would Say...Randomness

2010-02-07T08:18:00.000-05:00

Yea, I've made it! Made what you ask. Well, made it to the point where a person who only knows me from the blogging world, BellaDaddy, has used his wonderful blog to name me in a post and given an award to accompany the mention. Very big news, in my very small life.

Of course as with most items, there is a price. I am to give you 10 random facts about me. So, here goes...

1. I am more of a garden starter then a gardener. I love digging in the dirt and planting the garden but it is really my husband who keeps the plants alive. Constant watering and care are just too much for me.

2. My preferred hairstyle as a teen was a mohawk. My mother was terrified I'd be expelled from Catholic school, but the principal, Sister X, told me it reminded her of nuns in the olden days. (did not please my mom)

3. I do not drink coffee. It just didn't taste very good, and I always figured why add a vice that I have to get used to? So, it is tea in the am and Diet Coke the rest of the day.

4. Even though I appear laid-back to many, I am a closet worrier. Things are constantly knocking around in my head. (a trait I fear has been passed to Youngest as she couldn't sleep last night because she wants "all the people on this planet to just stay alive")

5. I met my husband on my 15th birthday. We dated, I moved, we were friends for 5 years before we were an actual couple.

6. I try to convince myself that I blog for me and for fun...but I LOVE comments. So really, who am I fooling?

7. I'd rather vacation in the woods than the city. Whether I am in a tent or a cabin, I find the woods relaxing and ever-changing.

8. I don't regularly separate the colors when I do laundry. Another step in the laundry process, who needs that? Keeping towels, linens, bleach stuff, and clothes in their separate loads is as far as I am willing to go on a daily basis.

9. I'll read almost any fiction book put into my hands. And though I love to read the classics, I am very fond of young adult lit. Good thing I teach, so I have an excuse to be reading them all the time!

10. On payday, I retrieve my check to look at my vacation time accrued. The money is always the same, so I take pleasure in the accumulation of time.

Well, it may not be coherent, but the rule was 10 random things!

I am passing this award on to a couple of very fun bloggers: nonnasnonsense , life of a new dad , & bad momma . Have fun!

New Parts

2010-02-05T07:27:00.000-05:00

It is Friday! Yea! A whole weekend looming on the horizon is a wonderful thing. Plus, it is time for Fatherhood Friday, brought to you by the wonderful bloggers at DadsBlogs, go give them a visit!

My father explains it like this: when the transmission in your car breaks, you don't run-out and buy a new car. ~~Well, you may but I don't~~ Instead you go to the local shop and have the mechanic repair the part or put in an entirely new one.

The last time I visited my dad it was clear that he was having issues. Getting up and down the stairs at the cottage was incredibly painful. To the point where he ventured down to the lake seldom. My sister and I worried and fretted. If it was this bad here, how was he getting around at his home, with 4 floors? We talked to him and he said his knees were bad. He had been seeing a doctor and needed surgery, but he was ok.

That was a year and a half ago, and as of Jan. 1st the man still had not had the surgery. Why? Well, because he didn't have time for recovery. ~~I, personally, think he was worried about recovery.~~But, he had a plan - surgery on the 15th.

So it was that my dad had his transmission, err knee replaced in January. And the recovery he was dreading? Well, to use his words "this place is like a cruise...there is always something going on and a nurse even puts on my socks in the morning!" So, maybe the next time he needs to hit the repair shop, he won't wait quite so long. After all, he is from the save and repair generation!

Treat or Terror?

2010-02-01T06:46:00.000-05:00

Lifestyle changes have swept my home slowly over the past year. In an effort to be healthy, we all try to eat good foods everyday. That is not to say a can of spaghettios can't make it way through the door, but serving up some fast-food drivethrough for dinner just doesn't fly. It was largely due to these facts that my family found itself having a huge treat on a Weds night. ~~Well, that and my moaning about cooking while recovering from the flu.~~

We took the kids to a Japanese Grill and Sushi bar. We had gone before, when Youngest was only 3- see a big treat. The kids were surprised and on their "going to dinner" behavior, so I was relaxed and happy at the prospect of dinner and entertainment. As we greeted the couple ~~forced~~ destined to share our table, Youngest's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. Dinner was turning into a full-out adventure in her five-year-old world.

When the chef came to the grill and began everyone was happily watching. He has the show and Youngest was seated squarely in front of the grill, the best seat at the table. At the first sight of flames, she shrank back into her chair and father simultaneously. A soft squeal escaping her lips. She was duly comforted, and convinced of the safety of her seat. At least until the fire was made known again through an onion "candle" burning to the side. Youngest could no longer keep her cool and she was standing squarely behind me for the rest of the cooking portion.

Eventually dinner was done and Youngest was convinced to regain her seat and enjoy her food ~~halfway through the meal~~. She was just beginning to eat with gusto when the grill behind her was set on fire. Without turning her head or batting an eye, she released a reverberating "AHHHHHH!!!" and dove under the table! The entire restaurant was in giggles as she scurried to to me and firmly announced "This place is terrifying!" While restraining my har-hars to mere chuckles I escorted her to the bathroom to take an opportunity to calm her. She was firm. She was full, done with dinner, and would wait for us outside. Which she did. Accompanied by Teen who was done eating and had our doggie bags in hand and Boy who was thrilled that he would have left-overs in his lunch. Oh-well at least 4 out of 5 enjoyed the evening!

Thursday's Thoughts

2010-01-28T06:51:00.000-05:00

Nope, there is no great saga or interesting reason I have been away so long - just a simple case of life. I have missed reading greatly and may even have a few interesting and (hopefully) amusing posts to share.

In the meantime, here are some thoughts I have been kicking around.

~ Do the squirrels know when a teen is practicing with a new permit? It seems the ultimate game of chicken to dart in and out of the road while a 15 year-old is practicing her skills, but they do it daily. Maybe they are betting and the pay-out of nuts increases with the odds?

~ Just because the population here doubles in winter, the crowds shopping on the weekends should not be increased exponentially. What are they doing Mon-Fri while I'm at work and they are on vacation/retired that keeps them from buying groceries and socks while the stores are empty?

~ Sushi and buffalo wings have something in common: I never know how many pieces to order of either. I mean seriously, isn't sushi really more of an appetizer than a meal?

~ How is it that an hour in the evening gives me so much time to complete a task, but an hour in the morning is barely adequate to dress and prep 3 people for school?

~ When your child is having a melt-down and you know it's because she is hungry, are you still required by parenting rules to use consequences, or can you just stick a pack of peanut butter crackers in her hand and cuddle her on the couch?

~ Thinking of crackers, could I get a grant for peanut butter crackers to hand out to students when they are drifting out of focus in class?

Ok, enough with the thinking - I'm headed off to read some wonderful blogs! See you soon!

Girls, Guns, and Bonding

2010-01-08T06:51:00.003-05:00

It's Fatherhood Friday! It will be worth your time to click the link and read some great posts written by dads and moms at dadblogs. (of course you can read and comment here first)

Have you ever seen City Slickers? You remember, the movie about hilarious male-bonding? Well, in it there is a conversation when Billy Crystal talks about how he remembers baseball stats because that was something he shared with his dad. This never made a whole lot of sense to me. Intellectually I grasped the concept, but it just didn't resonate. As a result, I always assumed it was a gender thing. I mean, jeez, I talked to my dad all the time. We did things together, we even went to baseball games, and I didn't need to know stats, . So, for all these years it was labeled "guy thing" in my head. Until this Christmas.

This year the crowning gift from my husband was a 12gauge Winchester shotgun. (it's a country thing) I had been asking for one for 3 years, since I went skeet shooting with my dad in Michigan. (finally the stars aligned, Hubby got a great deal, and I got my gun complete with trigger lock) Admittedly I was a bit intimidated. It is one thing to hold a gun in a field designed for shooting and quite another to hold one in your living room.

After all the presents had been opened and once the kids were settled in with their gifts, I was able to call my dad to offer holiday wishes. The conversation turned to gifts and I was able to tell my dad about my new gun. It was at this point that a whole new world of conversation opened between us. There was more than the usual interest, there was excitement and speculation. He wanted to know the make and model, which hubby had told me so I could be somewhat "gun literate." We talked about gun models and styles, as well as all things shooting. My father, a business man from Chicago, shared a whole new person with me. One I had glimpsed when he "took his girls shooting" a few summers past. We now officially have conversation fodder that is exclusive of kids, work, and current events. A whole new ball game, and I don't have to learn any stats!

Shy People Need Dogs

2010-01-06T05:30:00.001-05:00

Once upon a time there was a family who lived in a lovely brownstone style 2-flat. The mother of this family loved to talk and visit, but sadly she was shy. She knew that neighbors had recently taken possession of the home below her, and they even had children. It seemed like a perfect friendship in waiting. But, oh the sad little mother could not figure out how to move beyond the common courtesies into a conversation.

Enter the dog, Mopsy. Weighing in at a full 5 lbs. Mopsy new no nervousness. She had no fear and was also very curious about the new neighbors. Using the back stairs as her personal playground Mopsy got to know the neighbors very well. She had no compunctions about making herself at home, cleaning any crumbs from the floor, or looking for a quick pet on her way to take care of business. Of course, the shy mother was mortified by the manners of her dog and apologized profusely. Thankfully the little mother downstairs had a great heart and an open door policy to little mopsy dogs, (which makes perfect sense since she had a home full of bush weasels).

In this manner the two mothers became dear friends as well as neighbors. This wonderful circumstance should have made the shy mother less so, but that was not the case. Fast forward many years.

Shy mother now lives in a different state and neighbors with a boy live next door. The boys play and the parents exchange courtesies, and small-talk for a few YEARS. There is a fence between properties and Mopsy has passed-on. There are 2 dogs in both families. But only shy mother has the dog that won't quit. Undeterred by fence or gate, shy mother's dog, Oliver, has seen the need for a nudge.

He climbs the gate to visit the neighbors when they are out. The men collude and decide to build wood gates. They make trips to home supply stores, make plans, buy materials, and build gates. Oliver seeing that his scheming may come to an end, learns to climb the fence between the yards. He frolics with the neighbor dogs and visits with the family. All of this togetherness, leads the moms to talk and visit as well. Before you know it, the neighbor family comes to the shy home for a New Years bonfire. Of course Oliver is basking in the glory of his accomplishment, and no sooner is he garnering all the attention then the neighbor dogs manage to wiggle under/through the fence. Soon the party of people turns into an all-out dog party. The dogs visit, go inside to have a sniff and seem to be sharing a knowing smile that says, "where would these humans be without us?"

Monday Moring Recap

2010-01-04T06:20:00.000-05:00

Maybe this will be the motivation I need to write with regularity on a Monday morning. Maybe not. Who knows? But it is a new year so, I am all for trying new things. This will be thoughts and doings from the previous week. In this case 2 weeks of vacation, that sadly end today.

~ Christmas gifts for toddlers: In all honesty my nephew, 19 months, spent the greater part of Christmas morning playing in the wrapping paper and boxes. Ahh, if only that could last. By the 29th my son was telling me he had done all of his craft-gifts and was bored.

~ Do go to major theme parks the week before Christmas. Everyone is too busy preparing for the holidays and the parks are largely empty. Of course that means you have to be ready...or write off a day of prep (which we did)

~ Do NOT go to theme parks the week after Christmas. I knew better, but went anyway - ughhh. Lines everywhere make for a tired mother.

~ Knowing that a movie is going to be great and having it live up to your expectations is amazing. It was finally my turn to see Avatar (Teen's 3rd time - Hubby and Boy had already been). I was totally blown-away.

~ Be careful of color choice in food. I made a stew with sweet potatoes and carrots and was told by Boy that there was just too much orange in his dinner, so he couldn't eat it. (wasn't a big hit with anyone else either) Oh-well feast day for the dogs.

~ Temperature is all relative. Growing-up the thermostat was set at 68 in the day and 66 at night. In Sunnyville it has become quite chilly and I have been bumping the thermostat up until it rests at 70 in the day. Still chilly! So, bundle-up and have a great week!

A New Decade

2010-01-01T08:40:00.000-05:00

It dawned on me that today I have been alive in 5 different decades. Huh? Can't be right, I mean jeez I am not even 40, but there it is. It is a brand new decade. A fresh beginning that isn't plagued by Y2K paranoia. More meaningful than a typical year change to some, and a chance for all to take stock, evaluate shortcomings, and make adjustments.

The 70's offered the challenge of bad clothing. Oh, sure there were worse things in the world, war in Vietnam, a country torn apart, and gas lines. My small little life new little to nothing about such things and in looking at the snapshots it appears my biggest challenge was clothing.

The 80's a time of plenty ~~or maxed credit~~ for many Americans. Computers were taking hold and labs were even set-up in schools. Of course hardly anyone could operate one, but that seems academic. Nuclear war with Russia was a worry, and mixed with the computers of the time you got War Games. In addition to fashion shortcomings of the decade ~~and I had them all from preppy to leg warmers to punk~~ there was that pesky challenge of adolescence and living in your own skin.

The 90's offered much to many. The information age took hold by way of cable news channels and computers that everyone could use. There was still war and strife, but Russia became a friend and the Middle East became an enemy. By the mid-90's I couldn't care less about clothes and the big deciding factor in what to wear had more to do with whether or not it would show spit-up than if it was fashionable or even "me".This was the decade that blessed me with the love of my life and ushered us both into all the challenges of parenthood.

The aughts. If the information age took hold in the 90's it began drowning us in the recent decade. There is still war and strife. But these are tempered with the joy of listening to children (now outnumbering us 3 to 2) laugh, teens gossip, and kids scheme. As I end this decade I look at my wardrobe and find I am still fashion challenged, but happily am quite comfortable in the skin (and jeans) I'm in.

Wishing you all a Joyous and Peaceful New Year!

Wordless Wednesday

2009-12-24T08:27:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas!!

Practically Practical

2009-12-22T07:34:00.000-05:00

Remember when you were young? The ultimate insult was that the shoes on your feet or the clothes on your back were KMart bluelight specials. Somehow having parents who were thrifty was a social gaffe in the highest degree. (as if you had even the slightest control over where your parents shopped) Getting a good deal was a curse and if people found-out it could somehow impugn your character and even worse your popularity. There was even a major hit by a superstar of note ~~who no one would ever confuse with the mother of Christ~~ boldly titled "Material Girl". It was an age of consumerism.

Though there have been many groups of teens who avoided this materialism (punk and grunge spring to mind immediately) it has steadily grown. The kids who would ridicule each other in the school yard became the parents who bought $50 Air Jordans for their 1 year-olds and frequented toy boutiques ~~because everyone knows "it" is better if you spend more~~. But, then came the dollar stores, warehouse stores, and discounted and outlet stores. Steadily a change began in the most consumer population known to America - the teens.

No longer are there clothing allowances that rival the GDP of a small country. Teens need to learn to budget their money and the value of their purchases. Teen, who never cared much about the label on her clothes ~~handy since it wouldn't have made a bit of differenece in my shopping habits~~, went shopping for her friends' gifts. There was no mad dash to the mall, no $25 t-shirts that shred to bits in the first load of laundry, and no need for me to supplement her savings ~~lucky - since I wouldn't, I'm just evil like that~~. She and her friends exchanged gifts purchased largely from the dollar store. They loved giving and receiving odd items that made them laugh. And when the time came for Teen to purchase pop for class parties etc. she told me not to worry. She would buy no-name pop or pick it up at the Dollar Store where there is the "cheapest price for name-brand 2 liters." A victory for practicality! Now, if we can just get them to see the folly of a $4 cup of coffee...

It's About the Dress - Isn't It?

2009-12-17T07:12:00.000-05:00

Teen used to put on a dress with glee. She would look at dresses in her closet and choose one to wear almost daily. Often times she could even be found adding a hat to complete each outfit.

Then something changed. Whether it was living near her boy cousins, who wouldn't be caught dead in dresses, or the fact that she found it increasingly difficult to dig for dinosaur bones in a skirt, at about 4 years-old she was put-off dresses. Oh, she could still be subjected to the occasional dress, but once yearly has been pretty much the maximum ~~and really topped out with her 1st Communion dress in 2nd grade~~. So, when the time came to order an orchestra dress I was intrigued.

We attended the high school winter concert with the whole crew, including cousins and Grandma. Hey, this dress thing was really exciting! The concert was captivating ~~I know because even Boy and Youngest sat still and quiet throughout~~.Of course in typical teen-fashion we heard about every mistake after the concert, but being no Mozart myself I will have to take her word for it.

Next on the concert tour was Youngest's performance. On the way to the show Youngest could be heard talking almost endlessly to herself. The thought flow here was interesting, to say the least:

"Mom, you can tell S-- that there is such things as Sea Cucumbers. I told her, but she didn't believe me and laughed. It hurt my feelings." then without a breath she continues..

"S-- thought I was making fun of her cause I asked what that cat looked like. It is black and white. She said a tuxedo cat and I hadn't heard of that before. So I asked and she got mad at me. Hmmm. I wonder what S--'s dress will look like. I hope it is beautiful. I think she will like my dress, but I just really don't know. I'm so curious to see everyone's dresses."

Not kidding, this was all done in one breath. We are not looking for Youngest to give-up dresses anytime soon.

(the red dress)

Of course the concert was adorable. Really, who can see a kindergarten concert and not think it is at least cute ~~well aside from Boy who wasn't too impressed.~~ She was the sun, which of course set Boy and Teen into giggles because, let's face it the child already thinks the world revolves around her. Did we really need to fuel the fire?

Just say Thanks

2009-12-11T07:14:00.000-05:00

Most everyone has them. Those little pet peeves that just get under your skin and nag at you. Maybe you don't even realize it until days later there it is in your mind again. That is how it is with me and appreciation. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for appreciation ~~if I were I definitely wouldn't work with 90+ middle schoolers everyday~~.

The appreciation I am looking for is more in the Col. Nathan Jessep, A Few Good Men style. I was listening to a news story about heroin abuse in Russia. It is a huge problem that is devastating the population. At this point they have my sympathy. It is difficult to live this day in age without knowing someone whose life was affected in some way by an addiction issue. So, I'm driving along feeling badly for the country.

And then, some guy is translated blaming the US for the problem. It seems in his view our country is not doing enough to stop the drug proliferation from spreading out of Afghanistan. Are you kidding me?

How can it be the same countries that miss no opportunity to criticize and harass the US for being "where we don't belong" are also the same countries that want us to fix all their problems? ~~Do they not know we can't even fix our pharmaceutical drug issues let alone street drug problem?~~ If you want the darn poppy field destroyed - contribute more men to the cause! Work as allies instead of waiting on the sidelines. And if you can't do that, then by all means as Col. Jessep suggests, "Say thank you and be on your way."

Now, it is Fatherhood Friday! So, scoot on over to DadBlogs and read some great stories and thoughts!

raging loudly at the world

2009-12-10T05:30:00.001-05:00

I had planned to write a lighthearted post about the wonderful things to be enjoyed in life for today. Sadly, that will not be happening.

A child at my school committed suicide yesterday. A preteen who has barely had a glimpse of the wonderful and exciting things life has to offer decided to exit before she could even grasp what she was leaving behind. Sympathy and sadness do not begin to convey the feelings I have for her parents and family. Please keep this family in your thoughts and prayers. I can't begin to imagine the suffering they are facing and I am sure they need all the strength they can get.

Tuesday's Tidbits

2009-12-08T18:14:00.000-05:00

Life has been hectic, but I have picked up a few odds and ends to share.

~ In reviewing Christmas lists Hubby wanted to know what in the world Teen would want with Star Wars action figures. He specifically pointed-out to her that half of what she wants is on thinkgeek.com. Non-pulsed she looked up and said, "I am your daughter."

~ We all have those moments. Mine came on a rainy car drive in a crowded area. We were rushing to get to the roller rink to have fun. Boy was beside me, using fritos to make tusks and becoming a walrus. When pressed to look I mumbled something about letting me drive. It hit me like a ton of bricks - I was so focused on getting to the fun, I was missing it. So, I looked over and said show me. He replied, "I already ate one of my tusks." After much giggling he donned a new pair to do his walrus imitation.

~ In a hectic moment I was busily trying to tidy the kitchen. Youngest came up to let me know she had to change her clothes. (seems the bus was later than normal and though she ran home, she needed to make a change) She modeled her new outfit and explained, "I observed you cleaning up before, so I knew just what to do." Now if I can only get the rest of the family to observe me on cleaning day.

OK, I have to rush off for Teen's Christmas orchestra concert! Have a great week!

Boys are Different

2009-12-03T06:52:00.000-05:00

Having a 5 year-old in the house is an ~~exhausting~~ amazing prospect. The world transitions from hands-on exploration to cognitive deduction and reasoning, at times I swear that you can see the gears turning in their heads. This was certainly the case this past weekend.

We were blessed with the opportunity to care for my 18 month-old nephew for the ~~practically sleepless~~ night of Thanksgiving and the following day. After a morning filled with ~~mom & dad shopping~~ activity, it was time for lunch and a ~~well-deserved~~ nap. While preparing Nephew for his rest, Youngest came in to ~~gloat~~ say good night.

I was just changing his diaper when she took a good look at him. (apparently the first look she has taken in the 5 months he has lived in Sunnyville) She looked to me with questions clearly ready to spring from her lips. Watching her confusion settle into a controllable flow, I completed the diaper change. Youngest then asked, "Is that long circle thing gonna be stuck on his bumm forever?"

"Yup," was all I could manage without bursting into giggles.

After a few moments of gear turning she asked, "So all boys have that kind of bumm?" In response to my second "Yup" she replied "Oh." In a voice better fitted to finding a smashed bug on your shoe.

Thanks in the Darndest Places

2009-11-25T07:29:00.000-05:00

Life can sometimes become a hot coal walk. You find yourself jump-hop-limping along from one thing to the next so focused on accomplishing your goal that you can forget to step off the coals for a moment and admire your blessings. Thanksgiving gives us an entire day to simply leave the burning coals for a time and be grateful.

There are days when blessings are everywhere and there are days when you feel as though you are searching for Waldo. When confronted with a "Waldo" day the following may be helpful.

~ Stuck in the car for a 20 minute drive with a teen after telling her she is grounded: Reminding yourself that you do adore the ~~mini-hellion~~ child may help briefly, but being thankful that you were able to bust her in whatever offense she committed may actually bring a smile to your face.

~ Faced with a day of caring for the neighbor as well as your children when you really need to clean: Being thankful you can send them outside is helpful, but using it as an excuse to abandon all work for a bit and enjoy a morning in the woods is truly something to be thankful for! (knowing grounded teen will opt-out of the trip and can stay home and do her chores is a double blessing!)

~ Creating and completing the 10th Thanksgiving craft with your 5 year-old while trying to make dinner and bake for school feasts: You can remember that these moments are fleeting ~~which you may be ardently hoping as the timer goes off and you are covered with glue and paint~~, or you can stop and listen to her being thankful for everything from "warm coziness" to her family and realize she has learned this attitude from somewhere ~~though her thankfulness has far less sarcasm peppering it~~

In any event and in whatever form your blessings may take, I sincerely wish you and "warm cozy" and bountiful Thanksgiving!

Karma It Isn't

2009-11-16T15:39:00.000-05:00

The family is gathered around the kitchen, engaged in various activities. Hubby and I are having a conversation while Boy chimes-in, sharing his input. Teen strides into this scene, exclaiming that we "need to see this." Hubby and I look-up, wondering what has her excited enough to: a) leave her room - quickly b) bring the computer & c) interrupt our conversation ~~because she is usually so polite!~~

Teen proceeds to pull-up and begin playing a video. Hubby & Boy watch the video while Youngest and I work on dinner. There is some conversation about the video and the (much loved) band who recently released an album ~~and apparently a video~~. In one simple act, she has everyone's attention.

Great. Now, if the world really runs on karma - why do I know so many variations of the next scene?

1. Knock gently, then enter Teen's room. Announce presence, just to be sure.

2. Watch the book cover (computer screen, sketch pad etc) for signs that my presence has been noted.

3. Upon hearing the grunted "huh?" respond with request, question, or interesting tidbit to share.

4. Wait a moment....insist child put down the phone (headphones, IM window) then repeat step 3.

5. Receive large eye roll or WTH look from Teen as she tears herself away to hear the conversation originating in step 3.

6. Share tidbit, haltingly, because now you aren't too pleased with your reception.

Forget all of the above steps and everytime you want to tell said teen anything, you call her out of her room or away from the computer and insist she give her full attention to you before you start. (must say Hubby is a master at this) It drives her bonkers, but cracks me up. This does fall under legal torture techniques - right?

Change - of Course

2009-11-06T07:23:00.002-05:00

It is Friday, so click the link here or the button on my sidebar and head over to DadBlogs to read some wonderful blogs.

Speaking of DadBlogs, I recently (5 minutes ago) read a blog there about whether or not becoming a parent changes your views. It started me thinking ~~rusty machinery that it is~~. I responded in a decidedly ambiguous manner. But I was changed, forever and markedly by a child. Only he wasn't mine.

While in high school my dad and step mom became foster parents to Joey. He was a tiny thing whose mother was in an institution and father was also institutionalized. Joey was the first foster child in my life. Here I was a high school snot who put herself above most other objects and on a visit to my dad's I meet this little guy. Having nephews & a niece whom I adored, I knew I loved kids. I had been looking forward to a visit with a baby to keep me busy and entertained. But, Joey was different. He was adrift. I adored him.

Over 3 years Joey came and went. He went to his mother when she was well and came back to my dad's when she went crazy. When he was with her my dad and stepmom would babysit and bring her clothes, food, and take her to file for benefits. Because they couldn't just leave Joey. I had conversations on the phone with her, I had seen pictures - she was the mother. She was insane.

Everyone became attached to Joey. He was simply part of our family, my brother. My father would joke that being a foster father is easy "because men become attached after a child is born." Joey was loved.

After these years and many ordeals, that would fill a book. Joey was murdered by his mother. She hung him in the kitchen.

I have no idea what he felt or thought. I imagine that there were angels there to shield and protect him. I hope there were.

This precious little life who would run through the park and say "fick it daddy" every time his radio turned off. The innocent boy who would believe that electronics were sleeping so that we could have some peace with dinner. He was gone. Everyday that fact is with me.

The effects were numerous. My father was changed, there was tragedy and ruin in his eyes. My step-mother threw herself into changing the laws to protect children. The mother was imprisoned and my father went to court to ask for life instead of the death penalty. She was insane. I became an advocate for children. I worked in prevention and education. I made DCF calls on parents and with teens who were abused. I tried to teach parents how to play, care for, and respect their children. Honestly I can't say that I would have made these choices if not for my experience. Life is experience wonderful and terrible and it is the experiences we face that shape who we are and who we become. So, yes - children change us..

Some people call it practical

2009-11-03T21:27:00.000-05:00

I call it creative.

Instead of Halloween Youngest celebrated "culture day" at school. An exciting event in which the ~~mother found information suitable for a kindergartner to know, remember, and share~~ child did some research, made a food and dressed in traditional clothing of the location. With a mix of cultures in her blood how was a girl to choose which to represent?

By the clothing of course! We spent time looking at traditional clothes from three cultures and settled on the Ukraine, because their dresses had ribbons, embroidery, and best of all they have princess headbands. Who could ask for anything more?

While looking for the basics of the outfit ~~you didn't honestly think I was going to make the time to sew the skirt and vest did you?~~ we picked-up a pair of scrubs for Boy's costume. He wasn't totally sure what he wanted to be, but he knew it involved fake blood and doctor scrubs. A great start for any haunting outfit.

Under the close scrutiny of Youngest and ample use of stitch witchery, her outfit was completed. Thursday she brought in a poster ~~hastily made by mom~~ she colored in herself, and perogies to share. Grandma came to the event, bringing Ukrainian eggs that she was able to pass around. All in all she had a great day.

The next evening we were having a costume dress rehearsal. The temperature being near 90, I thought it unwise to dress Youngest in the dragon costume formerly worn by Boy ~~not to mention the hours I spent working on a perfectly good Ukrainian outfit that needed some more wear~~. It was time to improvise. We filled Youngest in on the future telling abilities of fortune tellers and turned her into a lovely gypsy. The make-up was a huge selling point on this costume.

Boy took some unsolicited advice and became Dr. Frankenstein. Complete with dirt and blood smeared arms and face. He was even able to cannibalize an old doll to have body parts in his pocket. It was great fun and brought in much candy. Hmmm, speaking of that I better go check the packaging on a few of the snickers bars. Hope your Halloween was scary and your treats were plenty!

Babies or Puppies

2009-10-30T06:00:00.000-04:00

For as many hours of my life as the puppies are ~~sucking away from me~~ needing my care, I have restrained myself from saying too much about them. But very, very soon they will be leaving us for their new homes; and I was feeling a bit ~~joyous at the prospect of having some fun money~~ melancholy at their imminent departure. So, I began to ponder ~~as I scrubbed the floor of the puppy pen while trying to hold my nose and keep from gagging~~. I have some friends for whom a pet fills-in for a young child, either because they are single, their children are grown, or they just prefer it that way. So, what exactly are the differences?

1. Feeding: puppies eat from a bowl on the floor while babies dump their bowls onto the floor.

2. Potty training: puppies go anywhere anytime you clean it up, babies do the same just with a diaper attachment.

3. Attention: puppies whine for it and babies cry for it, but you can shut the door on the puppies.

4.Bathing: babies wiggle and squirm, puppies do the same but with grip-action fur

5. Babysitting: babies overnights can be costly, but no one will volunteer to sit for 11 puppies

6. Cuteness factor: this one is a dead heat.

7. Cuddle factor: while both are cuddly, with a baby you wonder what's in his pants and with a puppy you wonder what's on his paws, nose, head - ok all his body parts.(yuck)

Each baby type has its draw backs and attractions. Maybe if I had 11 babies at once ~~I'd shoot myself in the head~~ I'd feel differently. But though I will be sad to see them go, I will really be ok with them going. Most days I can't say the same about my children

Testing Questions

2009-10-26T22:00:00.001-04:00

The State Test. It is a phenomenon that brings out a strong opinion in almost everyone. Should there be a test that measures student performance? What should be the measure? Is it fair? etc etc ad nausea um.

My opinion on testing is fairly simple and straight forward. Yes, there should be tests. It seems pretty obvious to this simple person that when you teach something you need to assess if the students have learned it. (though I am of the firm opinion that a test score is simply a snapshot of a student - not a portrait of progress)

And that brings me to my point. There is a debate here in Sunnyland that teachers are spending too much class time teaching to The Test. Hmm. Let me see if I can get this straight. The "great minds" that make-up the powers-that-be have decided at each grade level there are certain skills and knowledge that each student should learn and exhibit. Ok. Next, teachers are taxed with imparting said knowledge to their students. It is just such knowledge that the curriculum is designed to cover. Sure, makes sense so far... Next teachers design interactive and engaging lessons ~~even at the expense of any sleep~~ to spread said knowledge far and wide. Still with me? They teach, practice, and test these skills. THEN students take state tests that cover the same skills. So, where is the problem?

This is precisely the point at which I always become lost. How can a teacher be accused of teaching to the test when the "great minds" said it is just such material teachers should be covering in the classrooms? Was the teacher supposed to wait until spring to start teaching these skills? What would they rather students learn in LA - weaving? Maybe LA teachers should teach football plays 101 for a few weeks each fall and to hell with the elements of literature or author's purpose. Maybe they should make tests that cover bizarre trivia. Because walking into a test completely unprepared is just exactly how we want children to prepare for the future.

The Joy of Reading

2009-10-23T21:01:00.001-04:00

It's Friday, so that means there are many great posts here at Fatherhood Friday on DadBolgs. Click either link for a journey to some great blogs.

When I think of books and fatherhood some images come immediately to mind.

There was the time my dad gave me The Velveteen Rabbit and inside the cover he had even written an inscription. This was as shocking as anything in my almost 5 years of experience. My father actually wrote in a book - for me. In the evenings we would sit in the living room and he would read me that story. A picture book with chapters, very grown-up for a girl who had not even begun her elementary school career.

Much later there were the times the same man would insist I stop reading and spend some time in the sun. Obviously pre skin-cancer worry days. Having nothing against the sun, I would gladly drag my reading materials out to the lake and read there.

The second inscribed book from my father came at my confirmation. It was the Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes, bound in leather with gold-leaf edges. It was a mark of my "growing-up."

These are books I still have today and cherish. I've read all of the Sherlock Holmes stories many times, but they are a comforting friend that can ease me to sleep after a stress-filled day. I have shared the story of a much loved rabbit with my own children, even sharing the picture I drew of my dad after his inscription.

Now, I listen to my husband read to my children. Listening to them laugh along with Dr Seuss and worry about Wilbur's fate are new reminders of the impact a parent and a good story can have on a child.

A Different View

2009-10-20T17:55:00.000-04:00

Youngest began kindergarten this year. Now for a child who has spent all but the first 4 months and a few summers in daycare you would think that kindergarten is simply an extension of school. Well you (and I) would be wrong. It began as a place that put fear into her young heart and had her shaking with enthusiasm. To enter the "big kid" school where there is reading and math, tests and homework was her marker that she had in fact made it, to what I am not sure, but she seemed very excited to have done it.

With this excitement in mind we diligently scour her Friday folder each week. She insists on ~~overseeing the entire operation~~ sharing each paper with us, explaining the nuances of the assignment that we are too old and dull to see for ourselves. So it happened that Hubby stumbled upon the first worksheet and was unable to shield the surprise and shock from Youngest. His apparent displeasure, as evidenced to our young 5 year-old by his questioning of the work, sent her into tears of displeasure. He soothed the child and let the matter drop.

It was a while later before I had a chance to ~~sort through the mountains of paper that come home from school~~ look at her work. I should probably mention that while I am an involved parent, I am not obsessively so. In sorting through papers alone, I am a skimmer. But this paper caught my attention. At first glance something appeared "off." My brain seemed to say, "hey! hold on, look a bit closer." The paper was an innocuous sort of beginning sounds with animals pictures and the word minus the first letter. The student was to write in the first letter and then there was a space beside each word to copy the entire word. Normal kindergarten fare. Except that my daughter had copied each word in its mirror image.

Yep, we are talking The Shining, REDRUM style backwards. (with each letter being backwards as well) It was truly amazing. When my brain processed what it was I was seeing I actually ran to the mirror to hold the paper up, and sure enough in kindergarten scrawl there were the words clear as day. When asked about the paper, Youngest glumly replied, "I know, I did it wrong." And yes, technically she was right. But, how amazing it seems to me; that mirror-style backwards is even a option to her brain. Of course I won't be taking her to any secluded winter retreats.

Complaints and Other Usless Things

2009-10-13T17:56:00.000-04:00

I have a confession to make. There are afternoons that I leave my job in an absolutely foul mood. The massive cuts placed on our budgets combined with the increased needs of the students due to economic stressors and massive flu absences have created additional strain on everyone. For the large part, I avoid the "moan areas." There is no pay-off to complaining about conditions, so unless you are looking for a solution I will only nod politely and move along. Thankfully, I have a great team and together we try to find solutions that will work for us. Ways to share the load and people in whom we can confide without fear of complaints turning into a moan-fest.

But yesterday was incredibly busy. With one demand after another falling on our shoulders. So, it was in this weakened condition I found myself driving home. I was irritated and frustrated. Wanting badly to vent, I reached for my cell. Unintentionally I was on the verge of dumping all my woes upon the shoulders of a friend. Whomever I chose to call at this moment would not be solution-focused. Sure she would listen and sympathize, but she would be left feeling bad for me without that being my intention at all. I dropped the phone, call unmade.

I replayed the day in my head and added all the items I could not complete and would move to the next day. I considered how I would help a new student who absolutely refuses to pick up any sort of writing or reading device. How I can possibly keep students current with week long absences due to flu. How I can stay effective and energetic. In other words, I was wallowing.

Driving along fuming at myself for not knowing all the answers and preparing myself to face the chaos at home, I happened to look into an opening in the trees. Here there was a shaded area housing a field of wild flowers. Just that glimpse and my shoulders released, my stress began to abate. It is truly a wonderful world and the beauty is all around us. I just needed to look around.

ps: There are several such areas and today I made sure to look at each on the way to and from work. ahhh - nature's release.

Defending Hearth and Home

2009-10-10T12:51:00.002-04:00

I spent many nights being the only adult in the home at bed time. Hubby worked a 3-11 shift for a few years here and there, and with over-time (who can ever pass that up?) I was often alone at bedtime. These days have passed and now it is a very rare occasion for me to be the night guardian.

A few days ago Hubby and Teen began a weekend get-away in Chicago. Leaving me to ~~work and slave~~ protect and care for the littlest ones at home. The first night was not awful, largely due to my mind and body being preoccupied with caring for Youngest's current illness. Sheer exhaustion outweighed any concerns of crazed family killers breaking in and I was able to sleep ~~after checking all doors and even peering into closets~~ with relative comfort.

Due to the doctor and dropping in on family, we arrived home at bedtime on the second night. The kids rapidly went through the bedtime rituals and were both soundly tucked-in (to my bed). I did a quick house check and settled-in to watch some TV. After exposing my mind to science fiction and murder, I was ready for bed. Struggling to maintain space and covers I began to drift. Secure in the knowledge that we were locked in, safe. Only to be jolted to a sitting posture when a particularly loud noise blasted through the house. I struggled to identify the noise and realized it was Daisy (the dog)getting in and out of the puppy-pool to feed her offspring. Talking myself down, I remembered that both children were with me and therefore defended and that the house was locked up tight after all.

Friday morning saw the usual burst of activity. Boy had left his shoes in the car and ran out to get them, I was throwing some form of sustenance into lunch boxes, and Youngest was singing and talking to the puppies. Frantically herding the crew to the van, I was doing a quick search for my wallet (it also holds my keys). Boy notices my actions and says, "Here Mom. When I went to get my shoes these were hanging outside the door." Sure enough he was holding my keys and wallet. Oops!

Accident Prone

2009-10-09T07:21:00.003-04:00

It's Friday and that means it's time for you to visit DadBlogs to read some great posts and maybe share a few!

Urination. That seems to be the developing theme of my week. Receiving the call from the school that Youngest had an accident on the way to the bus proved only the kick-off event. She was placed in the school's aftercare program with Boy, and I was to pick them up there. Following a detailed conversation with the school nurse about the occurrence of kindergartners and accidents (apparently it is a very stressful time) I flew up the expressway from work, because I really didn't want to have to pay for more aftercare than was absolutely necessary.One accident dealt with, too many more to go.

I cleaned Youngest up and had her all ready for soccer practice. Just before leaving the house I insisited she go potty. At this point it was made clear to me that it hurts to go potty. Hmmmm. Definitely a problem here. She took care of business and we left for the fields. After 45 minutes of practice we were back in the van when I mention to Youngest that we need to stop for milk etc. She screams that she can't, she needs to be home RIGHT NOW or she will have an accident. Now, bathrooms are never conviently located for quick access in stores, so we turn down our street and are pulling in the driveway 2 minutes later. As I am unlocking the doors she begins to cry. Accident number 2 in the van. Fun.

Cleaning her up, again, I come to terms with the idea that I will need to get her to the doctor tomorrow. This is very bizarre behavior and surely signifies an infection. Youngest is now in jammies and I leave her with Boy so I can run out to grab a gallon of milk. No accidents. Phew.

I begin to pour cranberry juice down Youngest's throat and feed them both dinner. After a decent interval, we do the bedtime routine complete with a potty stop. Since the house is unusually empty - Hubby and Teen being on an excellent adventure in Chicago - Youngest won't sleep in her bed and has planted herself firmly in the middle of mine. Sometime durring Criminal Minds she comes barrelling through the door, passing up a perfectly good bathroom located near the foot of my bed for her convience, to use the kids bathroom. Just as she hits the door - yep, you guessed it, another accident. More cleaning, changing, and it is back to sleep.

Upon heading to bed, I realize it would be very unfortunate to wake in a wet bed. So, I move Youngest and Boy (who has now also taken residence in my bed) back to their respective locations. I coax myself to sleep in a house noticably devoid of people. Waking at 2 to a child is almost always unpleasant. This night, would prove no different. Between sobs that her bed is wet I manage to clean her up again and strip the bed. All I want to do is sleep. But where to put Youngest? My desire to wake wet has not increased with time and I cast my mind about searching for a solution. There are no pull-ups in my home. There are diapers for nephew, but he is one - they will surely suffocate Youngest. Hmmm. I look under the sink and AH-HA!

I tell Youngest I am going to put something in her panties in case of emergency. Catching a glimpse of the item she exclaims "But you said those are for ladies!"

"Well, they are," I admit. But go on to explain that it will just sit in her panties in case a few tinkles sneak out. So, with Youngest wearing a maxi-pad we were both able to get a few hours of rest. Neccessity is the mother of invention - right?

ps. She did have an infection is now medicated and hopefully recovering soon.

Soccer Season Kicks Off

2009-10-05T17:52:00.000-04:00

Saturday morning began at the soccer field. Youngest was playing her first game ever. And Boy was to play his first game in a new age division. The excitement was ~~almost enough to get them to the field on time~~ building as we rushed from the house bright and early.

First up was to be Youngest. She was decked out in new cleats ~~don't ask - Goodwill must have gotten the older kids' shoes~~ and shin guards. She was raring to go. As the game began we sat on the sidelines and watched the team of 5 & 6 year olds wave celebrity-style at all the parents assembled. The coach blew the whistle and there they stood. Looking at one another for direction. The clueless leading the lost.

Eventually things got rolling and the kids were kicking the ball and running around the field. The frantic parental yelling could have been mistaken for boisterous cheering from afar. But as one approached the field it would clarify to directions. "Kick the ball." "Go the other way!" were popular cheers. Parents who had never met were rapidly learning all the players name, as it became clear that the players responded to directions best when names were used. It was an energetic game with the parents giving it their all and the kids running from one end of the field to the other - regardless of the possession or location of the ball.

Next up was Boy's game. Here was a notable difference in the activity of the parents. Fewer were the shouts of encouragement and absent were the directions. The play progressed with directions from coaches alone and was watched by a largely silent crowd. It was a more professional game with better planning and teamwork. Missing the noise and energy of the previous game, I was able to focus on the skill and attention Boy has developed. I take heart that Teen's seasons always began like this, and as the season progresses parents will learn names and will soon be cheering and engaging in the game.

The Title That Fit

2009-09-30T19:30:00.012-04:00

If you were to talk to people who knew me in college and late high school, you would hear that I was the ~~grounded one~~ mother-hen. When canoeing down river, it was me who would yell that there could be branches and to check the water depth. I was the voice whispering that taking treasures from a late-night chain eatery wasn't a competition, it was stealing. Sometimes I would feel down on myself, wondering if this trait made me boring.

Then, 15 years ago something happened. It started with a clueless 21 year-old waiting for a friend to stop by after work so we could all grab Chinese food. Sitting on the couch with Hubby, I was laughing my hiney-off and thought - hmmm did I actually laugh so hard I'm wet? I ran for the bathroom and suspected that this may be something more....

After making 3 phone calls to friends and family for confirmation, I gave-in and called the doctor. Yes, my water had broken - 3 weeks early. Wait a minute - this can't happen, the shower is this coming weekend! We have next to nothing!!!

Next to nothing or not, my Teen was soon to be born. With the support of a wonderful mother-in-law, my big sister, and of course my soul-mate, I eventually delivered a beautiful 7lb. baby girl.

Over the years Hubby and I have gone from clueless youngsters to semi-clueless parents. There are hidden delights and bold-faced dangers. And along the way I have learned that those traits of my youth may have made me mothering, but only through the gift of my children have I earned the title mother. Thank you Teen, for beginning the blessings. I love you!

Two Tales and an Update

2009-09-22T06:58:00.002-04:00

Life has been a bit flighty here. A bit of this and that happening on a regular basis. In tribute, I am doing a bit of this and that in my blog today.

~ One Sunday evening as we were leaving the cousins' house, Youngest who had an exhausting day of sun and pool was having a meltdown. Something about not playing enough, wanting cousins to come to the beach for sunset, etc. Suffice to say we were all trapped in the van listening to the explosion, trying to stop a chain reaction before it could begin. (deep breaths)

As we rounded a corner I caught sight of a figure. Hubby and I glanced at each other and just then the crying stopped.

"Eeewwww! Why is that man with a hose outside in his underwear?" The pure shock and questioning were apparent in her young voice. We all giggled, it couldn't be helped. No use explaining speedo's just be thankful the crying stopped.

~ Last Friday, as I left school there was a bit of commotion outside. A friend and I walked over to a truck parked on the grass in front. Inside was a 7 foot alligator. And outside was the licensed trapper the school had called.

Being the nosy people we are, we asked the principal, standing nearby, what was going on. Seems the district decided that it was time to capture the 7 foot and 14 foot alligators that live in the ponds at school. OK, the area is fenced, but kids being kids relocation seemed like a good idea. So, we asked where they would be relocated.

Nope, no relocation. They are being killed as "nuisance gators." Now, I am not making a stand for the gators, but did anyone tell them that by simply living near the school (for the past 3 years) they were a nuisance? Are there signs for the gators that warn of the school zone? It just seems wrong. And why do you need to call some specialist to come catch them if they are going to be killed anyway? Couldn't anyone do that?

~ Finally a puppy update. They are all doing well. Daisy-mom sometimes looks as if life is a bit tough - but who could blame her. You should see and hear the feeding frenzy after she has taken a break from the puppy room. It is reminiscent of a school of piranha - but with fur and small mewling sounds.

My Heart Thawed

2009-09-16T18:03:00.002-04:00

I had been suspicious. I was keeping a close eye on the girl, because I suspected something was up. But everything continued along as normal. There were no red flags or warning bells, just the little tickle in the back of my mind that something was definitely going on. As the weeks passed, I became indifferent.

Until the phone call from Hubby.

The one where he says, "Have you looked at her lately?"

"Yeah, I was with her at breakfast," I replied.

"Then how could you not NOTICE? She is as big as a house."

"uh-oh" i thought - we're in for it now.

I was angry at first. This is not the situation in which I wanted to find myself right now. But, really what can you do at this point - nothing.

So, the weeks passed. The waiting became intense. And just when I thought I would go insane with worry and anxiety- she delivered. ELEVEN brand-new, tiny, adorable puppies. (who did you think I was talking about?)

Maybe it was watching the discomfort in her eyes over the past week or maybe it was sitting up with her all night long, trying to be encouraging while my butt went numb on the bathroom floor - but whatever the reason, I am loving these tiny little balls of fur!

And mom, Daisy, reminds me that so much of our lives are instinctual. Watching a new doggy-mom know what to do, taking such good care of 11 babies is incredible.

But then again, whose heart would warm to these little things? So now I have joined the ranks of weaselmomma and suburban scrawl and I too have a new baby in the house!

Where is the Pause Button?

2009-09-10T06:37:00.003-04:00

Three short weeks ago school started here in Sunnyville ~~and I am sufficiently recovered from the trauma to write about it now~~. It was a momentous occasion for Youngest and she was appropriately adorable heading off to the playground that morning. Yes, I am that mother. You know the one. She doesn't even walk her kindergartner to class on the first day and instead has older sib, in this case Boy, take the responsibility.

As we neared the school all those last minute instructions poured forth from my mouth to Boy's ears - where I feared they were being ignored.
"Make sure she gets to her class"
"Don't let her forget her supplies"
"Tell your teacher you need to pick her up from class after school"
"Don't lose her at the bus change area" (my kids take 2 buses home everyday)
"Watch out for her!"

Simplified it comes down to - watch over her while I'm not around. As I crept through the parking lot watching her, my guilt-choked heart was in my throat. But, I too had to start a new year. So, I left it up to Boy. And a stellar job he has preformed.

Youngest made it to class and is met by her brother after school each day. He sits beside her on the bus and tells me he has to hold on to her when they are switching buses. It has been an opportunity for him to shine - now it is an opportunity to complain.
"She wiggles on the bus"
"2nd bus is too full - can't I please ride my bike?"
"Now we have 3 to a seat - mom, please let me ride my bike."
Which of course he can't do - because Youngest is too little to ride 2 miles a day and is too little to navigate the whole bus fiasco on her own. Oh-well it was sweet for the 2 weeks it lasted.

Anyone There?

2009-09-08T06:03:00.002-04:00

To all ~~three~~ of my adoring fans ~~hi hubby~~ Sunnyville did not fall off the face of the earth and there was no cataclysmic event.

As a mother who has an outside job, I spend a lot of time juggling. And I am no circus clown - trust me on this one. In the past I allow a ball to drop here and there. Laundry can stack-up and I am ok. Cooking can be blown-off and I still feel really good. But, this season I have felt a compulsion to keep those balls in the air along with researching new ideas for work, spending time with my sisters, and of course pumping the kids for information about their new schools/classes. It has been an exhausting task, and the ball that fell was all of my computer time.

However, I am nothing if not a procrastinator, ummm I mean persistant son-of-a-gun. So, I am back. On the bright side, there is much fodder now that I have been away, so I won't have to resort to stories about cleaning bathroom grout. And I am looking forward to some happy reading time!

The Best Part

2009-08-11T10:26:00.003-04:00

I have not been online for almost a week. There are no problems, no major events - just me being unplugged. It is the one thing in the summer that I enjoy most. I do not have to check email or respond to urgent messages from parents/principals/coworkers. I can unplug. So, with summer's end looming ever closer - I chose to take advantage of the opportunity to avoid my laptop.

Highlights of the week:

~Boy went to work with Hubby last week and introduced himself as "the middle monster" it's great when everyone knows where they fit in the scheme of things.

~Spent a day conquering the water slides - and Youngest's fear was overcome as she repeated continually "just one more time" for a total of 10 times.

~Teen was caught looking at teacher's webpages - a WEEK before ORIENTATION! Think she is a bit excited about HS?

~Made tamales from scratch - yes from scratch - wrapped in corn husks and all - YUMMY!

~Continuing to think "green" in that I am hanging laundry to dry - ok i'm just cheap, but it is green.

It has been fun, and we have kept busy. But now that the unprepared nightmares have begun I am re-engaging with my laptop. I am going to catch-up on my blog reading in order to procrastinate more efficiently.

Preparations are Underway

2009-08-05T07:38:00.004-04:00

It is August. How that happened so quickly I can not say. But the calendar confirms that summer is drawing to a close.

Youngest has been weighed, measured, & evaluated. Vaccinations have been shot into her arms, blood has been drawn from her arm and there have been attempts to collect other bodily fluids. Records of her teeth have been recorded and filed; and uniforms have been fitted and requisitioned. She still needs to report for grooming and supply pick-up. But she seems to be well on her way.

Through all of the tasks she has kept her head-up and a positive attitude in place. Well, except for the shots - but who can blame her? They hurt like H***. Though it would appear she is preparing to depart for boot-camp, I remind myself it is only kindergarten.

Being last appears to have its definite perks (at least from the parent's standpoint). She is now showing no fear. She smiled and chattered so happily at the uniform shop, that the owner gave her a new hat with her school patch embroidered on it. Which is really lucky for her, because they are not allowed to wear them at school, so why would I ever shell out $12 for a hat? At the dentist yesterday, she was so thrilled to finally be the one behind the door she willingly allowed them to x-ray, poke and prod. Only looking to me for reassurance a few times.

Her confidence has grown to the point where she is joking about how she will hug Boy each time she sees him at school. It is now less of an unknown and more of an adventure. But, still when I watch her play in the yard I wonder: how could this have happened so quickly?

Musings and Missings

2009-08-01T15:04:00.005-04:00

My mother took the "tour of death" a few days ago. No, no she is fine. She went on an outing with a friend to: an old folks home, a crematorium, and the (local) National Cemetery. The reasons for the locations are not important; having something to do with visiting, errands, and curiosity. Whatever the reason she was reflective later and wanted to talk about plans.

I listened to her plans and wishes making suggestions, and doing voice impressions of my siblings as they will sound in arguing about her final wishes. I challenged her to come-up with a better plan in a few instances, that kind of thing. She laughingly noted that while the other (5) siblings won't even talk about it, threatening to run screaming from the room, I am playing devil's advocate.

Before you go judging me as a wicked child, listen to my side. I do not expect my mother to pass soon in any way, shape, or form. She is healthy, happy, and in complete control of her life (she's only in her 60's). This is the time to talk about it. It doesn't bring me a sense foreboding now. It is a distant event, hazy and pain-free. Another reason is that I have experience. Being the wife of an only child, we were thrust into this process 6 years ago. And it SUCKED. Sitting in the hospital while a loved one is ill and trying to discreetly ask about her wishes without intimating that the end is near is truly awful.

Of course the conversations with my mom reminded me how much I miss my MiL. She died exactly 1 year + the length of Youngest's life ago. (Yes, youngest appears to have been born exactly 1 year later - a fact Teen says we should never confess to her.) In contrast to the stereotyped MiL relationship, I had a great friendship/pseudo-daughter-relationship with my MiL. ~~Of course there were times when I was a teen that I am sure she could've thrown me from a roof, but my own parents felt the same~~ It seems that 6 years has passed in a blink, yet she has missed so much.

I can almost hear her laughing with Teen over her hair-color-of-the-week, getting a kick out of the fact that we face the same personality we posed as teens. And I envision her basking in Boy's charms and challenges, as she faced many of these behaviors with her son. These 2 have memories. They remember a Nana that would move heaven and earth for them; who would take their side in almost any situation. A Nana who gave-up her entire life in Chicago to move to Sunnyland because she was determined to spend the remainder of her life near them. But Youngest has no experience with this. It makes me sad, because this is just the type of doting admiration that would appeal to her princess nature.

We Don't Need No Stinking Napkins

2009-07-31T09:32:00.004-04:00

It is another Fatherhood Friday. So click the link here or on my sidebar and head over to read some great posts.

When does the need to use napkins begin?

Watching Youngest eat, you would think she uses them. Each time there is a drip on her hand or a spot on her cheek she wipes, folds over the offending area and drops the paper cleaner on the floor or table (depending on her attention). Youngest will not reuse a napkin once it has performed its duty. At some meals (barbecue, pb&j, cereal) this can lead to a discard pile that rivals youngest in stature. She appears as a dainty expert in the art of self-cleaning.

Until you see her leave the table. Peanut butter streaked across the front of her shirt, jelly smeared across her cheeks, and fading milk spots on her shorts would lead the casual observer to believe she had never even heard of a napkin. I believe this is not limited to my daughter either. I have seen the pre-k children at lunch. They all appear to be using some sort of wiping device, but largely end with the same results. So, effective napkin use doesn't begin here.

Then, it seems, in my home anyway, that by middle childhood they have given up the hope of napkin use. In handing Boy a napkin with dinner you will see a slight shrug of the shoulders and a reluctant hand stuffing said device in his lap. Here its existence is promptly forgotten for the duration of the meal. There is no flagrant wiping on shirt or shorts, instead it is a casual wipe across the shirt done quickly and effectively. If one is not watching for it, it would escape the eye all together.

Let it be said that Boy hates to have dirty hands. He washes them many times a day, spending full minutes completing the task after taking out the garbage or some other unpleasant task. Yet somehow this meticulous behavior doesn't translate to food. I sat watching him clear his plate and head to a bedroom yesterday. Only to find that his hands were too greasy to open the door. Instead of washing them, he reflexively began reaching for his shirt front. Being quick, I ~~shouted~~ urged him to freeze and think. He looked up sheepishly, began walking to a bathroom and then tried to casually wipe them on the couch! OK, I may have shouted "NO" at this point. So clearly, Boy has no real use for napkins either.

In looking at Teen, I see some napkin use beginning. She does not use her shirt ~~or pants, or couch~~ as far as I have seen. She leaves a table without a smudge ~~except for the occasional chocolate milk mustache.~~ But in the meal her napkin often lies forgotten near her plate, or in her lap. Greasy hands from corn-on-the-cob are unnoticed. Her wiping is kept to post meal, or in the event of an explosion of jelly to a minimum.

So, when/how does all of this become an adult's need to have a napkin at hand throughout a meal, and as older people do to keep one on your person at all times? Is it self-consciousness that causes napkin use? Is there a neatness trigger that flips when a person leaves adolescence? Is it peer pressure? Whatever the cause I will keep up my fight for cleanliness in the hopes that someday my children will not leave the table with milk mustaches and greasy hands.

Appalled at Candy - am I just old?

2009-07-29T19:23:00.005-04:00

Ok, so I know that I am closer to 40 than 30, so is it just me? You decide.

I am at my local video rental chain and I walk up to the counter. (Now, the local chain is hugely conservative in many things. I had friends who worked there in their 20's and had hair drug tests as well as hair length requirements. In other words it is not "edgy' in any way - or so I thought.)

As I am waiting patiently for my turn I peruse the counter goodies. Locally made flavored nuts and popcorn, and look a new candy. Being a candy lover I walk over for a closer look and am shocked to find myself face-to-face with this candy:

Please look closely at the tag line: "we're all addicted to something." First blush I am furious that a candy company would joke about the SERIOUS drug problem in the world. That makes me mad at the outset - but I am most angry that this is at my VIDEO STORE. It's not the joke gift shop or another more applicable venue. It is the FAMILY video store. So, what - now I have to educate my son on what a crackhead is??

I get the referance to the added caffeine and addiction - and I would have probably chuckled if it had been at an appropriate store. But, here? It's like taking your child to a G movie and sitting through previews of Basic Instinct. It's just out of place - or am I being old?

I stewed about this problem of mine until my next visit. I decided I would say something, or if that didn't work I would write the corporation. I even brought my camera to take a pic. The candy was gone. Probably sold to teens and 20-somethings who wanted it to show their friends.

Wrapped Around Her Finger

2009-07-24T08:55:00.007-04:00

Today is Fatherhood Friday. So, click on this link or the one on the link in my sidebar and head over to Dadblogs for some great reads!

At the naive ages of 22 & 21 Hubby and I found ourselves in the hospital. There was no accident, just the beginning of a new life for both of us plus the new one we would be bringing home. With my sister there to guide and be supportive, my Hubby there to be worried and nervous, there wasn't much for me to do. Oh wait, I did have a job!

But that job was tiring and is another story. At the end of all the work, the nurses eventually held a precious little girl up for our viewing pleasure. A quick glance at Hubby confirmed what I had known throughout the entire pregnancy, he would be a great dad. No, he wasn't sobbing or even tearing-up. He was enthralled.

As the team of nurses moved to the other side of the room to do their baby-checking things - he was quick on their heels. Watching over their every step until she was safely cleaned, weighed, rated, dressed, & marked as ~~mine~~ his. Some people say that they were hooked from baby's first smile, well Hubby must be a push-over because she didn't even have to smile. He was hooked by her mere presence.

People who know me well know that ~~I am apparently a sadist~~ I love teens in general. I find them amusing, astonishing, and largely entertaining. Hubby has not expressed this affection for obnoxiousness - ever. When I worked with troubled teens he would often shake his head in wonder that I could tolerate such work, let alone enjoy it. So, as Teen began to fit her name, there were some brief periods of worry. Would he see her rebellion and that of her friends as amusing or would it become a power struggle to rival WWII? Oh, I knew there would be things that would not phase him, hair color for example. But girls giggling until the wee hours, increased independence; how would these things sit with Hubby? Would he be able to keep his relationship with Teen active and engaging?

I should never have feared. Hubby is nothing if not ~~crafty~~ resourceful. Having used his influence at advantageous periods, Teen shares our musical tastes. He is now that father. You know the one - he loads the kids up in the car to head off to the concert and keeps watch to be sure the negative influences are kept at bay - yeah, that one. He grouses and complains that teens are silly, loud, and clueless but he is still doing the job he claimed at Teen's birth. He is watching over her, even when that means he ~~gets to see some of his favorite bands~~ has to attend concerts.

In the Know

2009-07-22T14:26:00.009-04:00

I will never be accused of hyper-parenting (click on the link for more info). Parenting in the extreme, scheduling and pushing for your children so hard that you are actually doing the work and activities for them - is absolutely not my style. Heck, I was never even ABLE to attend a PTO meeting - whose bright idea was it to schedule them at 4:00 on weekdays anyway?

As a result, I was often out of the loop with oldest. When she was in kindergarten I checked her daily folder one evening to find that there was a cookie exchange and sing-along. In. One. Hour. This was the first I had heard or seen, and I checked her back-pack daily. So we rushed through dinner and to the event, oldest still in her school clothes. Another kind-hearted parent took pity on me as I watched an assortment of children dressed in their Christmas finest and told me, "With kindergartners you never know what's going on. It will get better."

And in some ways it did get better. Teen was on safety patrol in elementary school, she won awards and gave performances- which I always attended. But, I was never the parent who knew how to get things done, or even what things I was supposed to be getting done for that matter. When the school sent a letter home saying they were moving her from advanced classes because there was no longer enough space, I didn't even know I should fight it - let alone how to fight it. Needless to say, I was not a parent "in the know" of things. Until now.

Through a series of events with Boy, (click here or here for more info) and by becoming a teacher in the district I have greatly increased my "know" power. So it was last May that I asked a counselor at my school to run Teen's high school schedule for me (she starts in August). In looking at her classes, I was dumbfounded. Two periods of English and two periods of Algebra a DAY? Only 2 electives and no language? How can this be? I colluded with co-workers and decided to wait until state test scores came back, then I would call.

I made the call this week. In speaking with a guidance counselor I was able to quickly cut to the chase; Teen wants to be in honors English and science possibly math. As the counselor was giving me the prepared "your child is not as smart as you think she is speech" I was able to quickly rattle-off the all-powerful test scores. Counselor stopped talking and started listening. She pulled records and quickly came to my way of thinking. She let me know it would take a bit, as she needed to make some major changes to Teen's schedule. She would call back, and she did. I am pleased to report Teen is now in honors, has her language as well as orchestra (she is leaving band for the cello), art, and PE. Yes, she went from 2 electives to 4. Her days will now be filled with challenge and art, she and both of her parents are happy.

Though, I do feel badly for all the parents and students who will not see their schedules until freshman orientation; I am reveling in the fact that for once - I was one of the parents in the know! And to think I only had to change my career for this to happen.

Squash 'Em

2009-07-17T09:16:00.004-04:00

I've recently, today, joined DadBlogs (though I have been loitering in the area for awhile). And in honor of that new membership, I am posting a Fatherhood Friday story.

While on our rainy camping trip, we found need to keep the children entertained. I had board games and cards conveniently stashed under the seat of the van, and nonna had brought along Aggravation. This game was new to my family, so we decided to play it.

There being only 6 players and 8 of us niece teamed-up with Boy, while I joined Youngest (largely honorary since I made no decisions or rolls). Now, for those of you who don't know the game, it is like Sorry - but with dice, marbles, and some other changes. In other words, you can squash other players and send them back to home.

With Youngest taking the lead, I expected little squashing to be done - kind hearted thing that she is. But, Hubby thought it would be best to strongly encourage the squashing theme. "It's part of the game," he reassured her. And she took to it, like a duck to water. Terrorizing her portion of the board with zeal. Who could've known that underneath the adorable 5 year-old exterior lay a giggling squash maniac?

The game continued with little input from me, as Youngest had her own mission in mind - squashing the opposition. Until she was in position to squash her father. At this point he looked at her and said in his sweetest Daddy voice, "Are you going to squash me?" At which point a look of pure horror crossed her sweet face. She ran over to him, gave him a two-armed hug and said, "Don't worry Daddy, I won't get you."

Other players cried foul. "Manipulation!" they shouted. (Teen and Boy were among the loudest) The kids strongly encouraged Youngest to squash her father at every opportunity, but she was having none of it. And dad? Well, he was reveling in his glory at having the ear and heart of another player. Together they would conquer the game.

Until there was a move she couldn't avoid. She would have to send her dad back to home or forfeit her turn. She moved, reluctantly. After sending him back to home, she looked at him with big eyes & quivering lip. Hubby, opened his arms, she ran to them eager for redemption. He gave her a hug, told her it is part of the game, and that she was doing a great job. She said "Sorry I squashed you Daddy." He laughed, kissed her head and told her that he would always love her no matter how many times she squashed him.

The moment passed and they went about the business of conquering the board. Youngest ended-up winning the game. Squashing and competition are great, but never underestimate the power of cute in winning the game.

Seashore Subjects

It Aint Stand-Up, But I'll Take It

Mini Bully, Mini Mimic

Starting Over

The Joke is on Me

Happy Father's Day

Verbal and Vivid

Introducing Baby "Seashore"

Home Repair

Just a Sip?

Mom's Medicine

Grateful

Pack all you Want

Scapegoated

Spooky Movie, Strange Lights

Sister Steps Up

Catch and Release

Senseless Sunday

Trainwreck

Taking the Fall

Ahh, The Cynicism (of youth)

Fish Tales

Savor the Moments

Anticiaption and Great Joy

First Snow...fall?

Fire! Where?

Juggling Act

Short, Sweet Saturday

Come with me if you want to live...

That Music Will Put Your Eye Out

Rapid Aging

No Mom Allowed

Career Planning

Umm...Where Did It Go?

If the Name Fits

Falling Off the Roof

Dad's Stories

Wordless Wednesday

An Oily Grief

Grass is Greener

Wordless Wednesday

Italian Feast

The Road Trip

hiatus

Crabs and Comfort

This n That

Tenacity - Mom's Gift

The Ants Go Marching

Just one last thing...

If - At the Park

A Letter to the Court?

Don't Molest the Manatees

Spring Break Has Sprung

Mood Elevator

A Morning Adventure

Pride & Laughter

Thursday's Thoughts

Dad Does What?

Peaceful Morning Interrupted

It Works for Us

Conference Code Confessions

As My Teen Would Say...Randomness

New Parts

Treat or Terror?

Thursday's Thoughts

Girls, Guns, and Bonding

Shy People Need Dogs

Monday Moring Recap

A New Decade

Wordless Wednesday

Practically Practical

It's About the Dress - Isn't It?

Just say Thanks

*raging loudly at the world*

Tuesday's Tidbits

Boys are Different

Thanks in the Darndest Places

Karma It Isn't

Change - of Course

Some people call it practical

raging loudly at the world