Preparations are Underway

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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.