Another school year, another basket full of angst toward our public school system.
As you might remember, Nick was in the first ever kindergarten class for our town. Before that, there was just no public kindergarten. That was year #1, the angst revolving around the fact that I was sending my firstborn off to the wolves in an unproven program run in a bunch of trailers that was only 2.5 hours long. Because we didn't want to spend the money on a full day program.
Year #2 of angst was because Nick was recommended for the transitional program instead of 1st grade. They deemed him unready, and predicted he would not do well. I angsted over that one plenty, although in the end I came around and decided it was the best thing for him. A lot of this has to do with the teacher he ended up with, because she is so wonderful, and I would put him anywhere to have had her.
Anyway, my angst and anger have become unleashed over this anew, in this is the LAST year that particular program will be offered. It's the money. They don't say that, though. instead, they posted a particularly snotty paper written in "researchese" explaining how it has been proven for YEARS that holding a child back at this level does not improve their chances at success, and that giving a child an extra year of kindergarten is just a waste of time and resources, and that it poses a bunch of extra problems later in middle school, something which no parent ever wants to consider when making this choice. And now it's rendered useless as we have this kindergarten program set up and can spot children who will have difficulties on the way in and offer these perhaps twelve children a full day for "extra help."
I have to say, I read this article and then shook for hours. Because for years the one thing I have been hearing about the transition program is "It's not Kindergarten!" and it's not. The kindergarten program is 2.5 hours. Transition is full day. They do the work the first grade does at a less intense pace. Also, this lady who wrote this report obviously did not talk to me about what I considered in making this choice, because I did so think about his being a year ahead in middle school and in high school and in college. I thought about his self esteem and his abilities and weighed placing him in a classroom where he was unable to keep up and would foster a hatred of school and a sense in incompetence with that extra year.
But most of all I got angry that they placed all this on the parent. As though I forced them to put my child in the transition program because I had some sneaky plan to make him a better football player or a better student than anyone else. Like I was trying to cheat the system. The SCHOOL offered and even recommended it. That was why I did it. And now they turn around and basically state that it was a selfish choice that is, in the long run, not actually going to help my child. And by the way, my kid went to their new kindergarten, and still 'wasn't ready', so there.
I have more to say, but it's going to need it's own post because I'm too wound up.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Whaa Whaa!
This post is about nothing. Well... nothing in particular. I am going to use it as a warning.
I've written a few posts in advance. And they are, to be quite frank, really irritating in their quality. I complain a lot, and whine a lot, vent a lot. And not always very coherently.
I'm sorry. I plan on going back and editing them to make them a little more... you know. Readable. But I' not making any promises. So please consider this fair warning.
I've written a few posts in advance. And they are, to be quite frank, really irritating in their quality. I complain a lot, and whine a lot, vent a lot. And not always very coherently.
I'm sorry. I plan on going back and editing them to make them a little more... you know. Readable. But I' not making any promises. So please consider this fair warning.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Officially Spring
How do I know it's Spring?
My gramma used to make a bit of a fuss over the crocus coming up in the spring. She would fuss over them and say the frost would kill them. These are not crocus, they are tulips, and possibly some daffodils, depending on where I planted the bulbs. But the sentiment is the same.
Here's where the other half of the bulbs are.
My gramma used to make a bit of a fuss over the crocus coming up in the spring. She would fuss over them and say the frost would kill them. These are not crocus, they are tulips, and possibly some daffodils, depending on where I planted the bulbs. But the sentiment is the same.
Here's where the other half of the bulbs are.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Happy St. Patrick's Day
I'm a few months behind on my holiday stories. Please deal with it, or wait ten months and come back.
When these were posted all over the walls at the preschool, I pointed them out to Nathan. "I like yours," I said. "Who is that man again?"
"It's Barack Obama," he says.
When these were posted all over the walls at the preschool, I pointed them out to Nathan. "I like yours," I said. "Who is that man again?"
"It's Barack Obama," he says.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
I Don't Want To!
We follow a pretty regular routine. Sure, there are variations - some days we have show-and-tell and other days we need to go buy sneakers. But there are some things that we do every, single, day, like it or not, no matter what. You would think that my kids would learn to accept this.
But no. No they don't. Every day after lunch Andrew informs me that he is not going to take a nap. And I then inform him that he is. And he tells me he isn't. And I say he is. I am lucky that
1 - Andrew is small enough to be distracted by the story that comes before nap and that
2 - Andy actually DOES NEED a nap, and so usually falls asleep before too long and I have to wake him up when Nick's bus gets home at 3:40.
Just this morning both Nick and Nate told me they were not going to school. "I'm not going to school!" they said. Only they were screaming so it was more like "I DON'T WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL!" And in Nick's case, an added "I'M NOT GOING!"
It's important to examine who is speaking before reacting to statements like these. There are differing translations.
Nate: I don't want to go to school
meaning - I don't want to stop playing with these toy dinosaurs.
Nick: I don't want to go to school
meaning - I don't want to go to school
In either case, the important thing is not to give in. In my case, it usually involves a lot of screaming, shouting, and threatening. I'm all for talking things out, but we're on a schedule. We have no time for coaxing or easing into the idea of school. That bus in ON IT'S WAY, like it or not, and we better be out in front when it gets there. (We weren't. We were still in the garage when it breezed on by. ) Also, more than once I have dragged a screaming or sobbing Nick and placed him on the school bus. Yes, I am heartless.
Nicholas is particularly good at refusing to do things that I require every day. These things include practicing his piano, and doing some homework. For the record, piano practice is usually just over 5 minutes and homework is writing out his spelling words - there are five of them. That's 5 minutes, and 5 words.
Nick throws tantrums like the gods of Olympus over these 5 minutes and 5 words. He refuses. He screams, he cries, he becomes angry and threatens to rip up the sheet of practice words. He scribbles on the paper. He tries writing them very quickly so that every other letter is backwards and unreadable. He tells me that he hates writing, he hates writing, that no one else has to do this homework and that I am so mean and so AWFUL and it's so unfair.
I get very angry. I want to bang my head against the wall. I want to bang HIS head against the wall.
He likes piano a little more. Especially when he finally can play something all the way through. But the writing he fights me on.
I keep having to remind myself that
1 - it's not so much that he doesn't want to write as it is he really wants to play with his brothers,
2 - it's only five words, so how unfair am I really being? and
3 - my job is to prepare him for the future, and in this case the future is first grade, where people will need to read the ideas he writes down. So being able to form letters and words needs to be a priority.
also
4 - he would have more playtime if he would shut up and do his darn jobs!
But no. No they don't. Every day after lunch Andrew informs me that he is not going to take a nap. And I then inform him that he is. And he tells me he isn't. And I say he is. I am lucky that
1 - Andrew is small enough to be distracted by the story that comes before nap and that
2 - Andy actually DOES NEED a nap, and so usually falls asleep before too long and I have to wake him up when Nick's bus gets home at 3:40.
Just this morning both Nick and Nate told me they were not going to school. "I'm not going to school!" they said. Only they were screaming so it was more like "I DON'T WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL!" And in Nick's case, an added "I'M NOT GOING!"
It's important to examine who is speaking before reacting to statements like these. There are differing translations.
Nate: I don't want to go to school
meaning - I don't want to stop playing with these toy dinosaurs.
Nick: I don't want to go to school
meaning - I don't want to go to school
In either case, the important thing is not to give in. In my case, it usually involves a lot of screaming, shouting, and threatening. I'm all for talking things out, but we're on a schedule. We have no time for coaxing or easing into the idea of school. That bus in ON IT'S WAY, like it or not, and we better be out in front when it gets there. (We weren't. We were still in the garage when it breezed on by. ) Also, more than once I have dragged a screaming or sobbing Nick and placed him on the school bus. Yes, I am heartless.
Nicholas is particularly good at refusing to do things that I require every day. These things include practicing his piano, and doing some homework. For the record, piano practice is usually just over 5 minutes and homework is writing out his spelling words - there are five of them. That's 5 minutes, and 5 words.
Nick throws tantrums like the gods of Olympus over these 5 minutes and 5 words. He refuses. He screams, he cries, he becomes angry and threatens to rip up the sheet of practice words. He scribbles on the paper. He tries writing them very quickly so that every other letter is backwards and unreadable. He tells me that he hates writing, he hates writing, that no one else has to do this homework and that I am so mean and so AWFUL and it's so unfair.
I get very angry. I want to bang my head against the wall. I want to bang HIS head against the wall.
He likes piano a little more. Especially when he finally can play something all the way through. But the writing he fights me on.
I keep having to remind myself that
1 - it's not so much that he doesn't want to write as it is he really wants to play with his brothers,
2 - it's only five words, so how unfair am I really being? and
3 - my job is to prepare him for the future, and in this case the future is first grade, where people will need to read the ideas he writes down. So being able to form letters and words needs to be a priority.
also
4 - he would have more playtime if he would shut up and do his darn jobs!
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Why Didn't I Get A Girl?
in my bedroom one afternoon as I'm changing from a skirt into sweatpants.
Nate: Mom, those socks are connected.
Me: They're tights.
Nate: They are very long socks.
Me: They're tights. See?
Nate: Oh. They're pants.
Me: They're TIGHTS! Get OUT!
Nate: Mom, those socks are connected.
Me: They're tights.
Nate: They are very long socks.
Me: They're tights. See?
Nate: Oh. They're pants.
Me: They're TIGHTS! Get OUT!
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Foiled Again
Many mornings I wake up before my alarm.
There are a couple of reasons for this. The first is that I've always been a morning person, and at some point in the night I will start waking up and looking at the clock to see how much time I have left to sleep. When I find out I have less than fifteen minutes, I wonder if it's worth my while. After all, I will only get woken up by a rude alarm noise. I hate my alarm's noise. And the alarm had the capability to wake up not just Steve, but the boys.
I try to be as quiet as I can in the morning because I want my kids to stay asleep. They, like me, are light sleepers once the bulk of the night has past, and the slightest noise can awaken them. And then not only will I not be able to run, but I will be awake. And although it may not seem like it, that's where the heart of me longs to be at 5:10 am.
So I quietly pull on my leggings and my sports bra, I carry my sneakers and walk in my socks, and I slip out the bedroom door...
And then my children mess the whole thing up.
No, not THOSE children. The OTHER ones. The furry ones. My pets.
See, no matter how many times I've done this, the pets equate any adult with open eyes with getting fed. As soon as I leave the bedroom, Franks starts meowing loudly and pitifully. "Meow! Eeeeeeeyow!" he says, weaving in and around my feet. Gunther also thinks the day has officially begun. He doesn't say anything, but his nails click click click on the wood floor and the stairs. And he leads the way down, ke-THUMP ke-THUMP keTHUMP you would think we had an elephant instead of a lab-chow mix. Puck is usually much better behaved. Unfortunately, don't think it has to do with manners but with laziness and his failure to pick up on the fact that I am awake.
The pets are always surprised, and a little offended, when I ignore their bowls and a furry nose on the door to head downstairs to the basement. They sometimes try to follow. I swear, even though I close the door behind me, Frank has been able o open it half the time.
Anyway, before I wake up the house is still and silent. But moments after I get up the place is a whirlwind of pet activity. No wonder the boys are getting up before 6!
There are a couple of reasons for this. The first is that I've always been a morning person, and at some point in the night I will start waking up and looking at the clock to see how much time I have left to sleep. When I find out I have less than fifteen minutes, I wonder if it's worth my while. After all, I will only get woken up by a rude alarm noise. I hate my alarm's noise. And the alarm had the capability to wake up not just Steve, but the boys.
I try to be as quiet as I can in the morning because I want my kids to stay asleep. They, like me, are light sleepers once the bulk of the night has past, and the slightest noise can awaken them. And then not only will I not be able to run, but I will be awake. And although it may not seem like it, that's where the heart of me longs to be at 5:10 am.
So I quietly pull on my leggings and my sports bra, I carry my sneakers and walk in my socks, and I slip out the bedroom door...
And then my children mess the whole thing up.
No, not THOSE children. The OTHER ones. The furry ones. My pets.
See, no matter how many times I've done this, the pets equate any adult with open eyes with getting fed. As soon as I leave the bedroom, Franks starts meowing loudly and pitifully. "Meow! Eeeeeeeyow!" he says, weaving in and around my feet. Gunther also thinks the day has officially begun. He doesn't say anything, but his nails click click click on the wood floor and the stairs. And he leads the way down, ke-THUMP ke-THUMP keTHUMP you would think we had an elephant instead of a lab-chow mix. Puck is usually much better behaved. Unfortunately, don't think it has to do with manners but with laziness and his failure to pick up on the fact that I am awake.
The pets are always surprised, and a little offended, when I ignore their bowls and a furry nose on the door to head downstairs to the basement. They sometimes try to follow. I swear, even though I close the door behind me, Frank has been able o open it half the time.
Anyway, before I wake up the house is still and silent. But moments after I get up the place is a whirlwind of pet activity. No wonder the boys are getting up before 6!
Friday, March 11, 2011
Cry Cry Cry
I swear, my kids will cry over just about anything. Or fight over just about anything. Everything can be fine, but if someone has a green cup the other two will want it. And if someone has the job or washing windows, suddenly this is the most coveted job in the world.
Nick is folding towels. It is his new job, one he picked because he said he'd like to do laundry. So I let him. Andy is crying because his job was not folding laundry and he was told to go start cleaning the toy room.
Nate at first did not want to clean the toy room. Even when told this meant no TV, he said, "fine." But when I told him this meant Nick would get to play his DS and he wouldn't be allowed to even watch, he changed his mind. And ran upstairs.
And from upstairs Andy started crying again, probably because Nathan started cleaning up what HE wanted to clean up.
Nick is folding towels. It is his new job, one he picked because he said he'd like to do laundry. So I let him. Andy is crying because his job was not folding laundry and he was told to go start cleaning the toy room.
Nate at first did not want to clean the toy room. Even when told this meant no TV, he said, "fine." But when I told him this meant Nick would get to play his DS and he wouldn't be allowed to even watch, he changed his mind. And ran upstairs.
And from upstairs Andy started crying again, probably because Nathan started cleaning up what HE wanted to clean up.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
More Mice
The mice are back.
See, they went away for awhile. I caught four of them, I think, and then the mousetraps were empty. And they stayed empty for days. So I took the mousetraps and put them away.
But then, the other day, I found mouse poops in the drawer. And also, those little spatuls thingies I use to get the last of the peanut butter out of the jar were nibbled to the stub. And little red plastic shavings were everywhere.
So I put the mousetraps up again.
And then next day there was a mouse. And I let it go down in the woods, past the shed.
And then days went by with no mouse. So I forgot about it, until this afternoon.
This afternoon I was going to once again remove the mousetraps and live, happy and secure in the knowledge that our home was mouse-free.
But one of the mousetraps was closed (empty), and my ice-cream scoop with he rubber handle was gnawed.
So the mice have been around, but not falling into my traps.
Nick says it's because the mice have figured out that they are traps. I think the traps may not be working the way they are supposed to be working. Or, based on the mouse poops I found in a different cabinet, they are in the wrong place.
I have baited the mouse traps with mouse bait AND peanut butter, and have set them up in new locations. I'm hoping these work. But I am very close to getting the poison ones, simply because I hate setting the stupid mice free.
Seriously, you can open the trap and wait for it to climb out, but it won't. It will cling to the inside of that plastic box like glue. You have to SHAKE it out. And honestly, I feel like I'm killing the mice anyway, setting them out in the cold, in the snow, with crows and hawks and foxes out there.
See, they went away for awhile. I caught four of them, I think, and then the mousetraps were empty. And they stayed empty for days. So I took the mousetraps and put them away.
But then, the other day, I found mouse poops in the drawer. And also, those little spatuls thingies I use to get the last of the peanut butter out of the jar were nibbled to the stub. And little red plastic shavings were everywhere.
So I put the mousetraps up again.
And then next day there was a mouse. And I let it go down in the woods, past the shed.
And then days went by with no mouse. So I forgot about it, until this afternoon.
This afternoon I was going to once again remove the mousetraps and live, happy and secure in the knowledge that our home was mouse-free.
But one of the mousetraps was closed (empty), and my ice-cream scoop with he rubber handle was gnawed.
So the mice have been around, but not falling into my traps.
Nick says it's because the mice have figured out that they are traps. I think the traps may not be working the way they are supposed to be working. Or, based on the mouse poops I found in a different cabinet, they are in the wrong place.
I have baited the mouse traps with mouse bait AND peanut butter, and have set them up in new locations. I'm hoping these work. But I am very close to getting the poison ones, simply because I hate setting the stupid mice free.
Seriously, you can open the trap and wait for it to climb out, but it won't. It will cling to the inside of that plastic box like glue. You have to SHAKE it out. And honestly, I feel like I'm killing the mice anyway, setting them out in the cold, in the snow, with crows and hawks and foxes out there.
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
DS
Oh, the trauma when a 6 year-old's Nintendo DS stops working.
Let's home we figure out how to fix this soon.
Let's home we figure out how to fix this soon.
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
This Might Be Science
One of my most favoritist bands ever is They Might Be Giants. When I was in High School we had a couple of their albums, Flood and Apollo 18. I loved them. They were kooky. Which, ironically, is why a lot of people find their songs similar to nails on a chalkboard.
But guess what? They make kids music! Yes, yes they do! A lot of the songs they write are perfectly fine for younger children, and they even have a few albums out specifically for kids!
I have known this for a while. I just wasn't sharing.
But recently, at the library, I found a CD called "Here Comes Science" and it also has a DVD with videos for all the songs. The boys already love "The Elements" and "My Brother The Ape." The funny thing is, I've become enamored with science again. It's not like I hate science, but I usually find it cold and difficult and complicated. These songs touch every part of science, from biology to astronomy, chemistry to physics. Even scientific theory. And they are all, as far as I know, accurate. (Except that one song about the sun. They've added a short song after that one explaining how they were wrong, and new evidence has been discovered.)
Anyway, it makes me happy, and might be a good gift for any youngster.
But guess what? They make kids music! Yes, yes they do! A lot of the songs they write are perfectly fine for younger children, and they even have a few albums out specifically for kids!
I have known this for a while. I just wasn't sharing.
But recently, at the library, I found a CD called "Here Comes Science" and it also has a DVD with videos for all the songs. The boys already love "The Elements" and "My Brother The Ape." The funny thing is, I've become enamored with science again. It's not like I hate science, but I usually find it cold and difficult and complicated. These songs touch every part of science, from biology to astronomy, chemistry to physics. Even scientific theory. And they are all, as far as I know, accurate. (Except that one song about the sun. They've added a short song after that one explaining how they were wrong, and new evidence has been discovered.)
Anyway, it makes me happy, and might be a good gift for any youngster.
Monday, March 07, 2011
Dinosaur Movie
When I was feeling all sick and my head hurt every time I moved or looked at the light, I decided to put on a movie.
"What movie do you want?" I asked the boys.
"How bout the dinosaur movie we watched in a long time ago?" said Andy.
"Which one?" I asked. Trying to remember all the dinosaur movies we've watched.
"The one... with the dinosaur... we watched it before."
"The Land Before Time? With Little Foot and the little guy that says 'yep yep yep?'"
"No, the other one."
"Dinosaur? The one with Aladar and the egg?"
"No, the one we saw... before in a long time."
"Um, Dinosaur Train?"
"No."
"Dino Dan?"
"No, it's the movie we saw before!"
"Um... The Land Before Time?"
"No!"
Andy was clearly getting more agitated and I was backtracking because I had run out of movies. So I grabbed my trusty ipad, went to Netflix, and typed in "Dinosaur."
The first movie that popped up was, of course, Dinosaur. A movie which, for the record, I had already mentioned, but which Andy assured me was not the one he was thinking of. But it was.
"This one!" he said, pointing at the little poster of the dinosaur.
What did we do before technology?
"What movie do you want?" I asked the boys.
"How bout the dinosaur movie we watched in a long time ago?" said Andy.
"Which one?" I asked. Trying to remember all the dinosaur movies we've watched.
"The one... with the dinosaur... we watched it before."
"The Land Before Time? With Little Foot and the little guy that says 'yep yep yep?'"
"No, the other one."
"Dinosaur? The one with Aladar and the egg?"
"No, the one we saw... before in a long time."
"Um, Dinosaur Train?"
"No."
"Dino Dan?"
"No, it's the movie we saw before!"
"Um... The Land Before Time?"
"No!"
Andy was clearly getting more agitated and I was backtracking because I had run out of movies. So I grabbed my trusty ipad, went to Netflix, and typed in "Dinosaur."
The first movie that popped up was, of course, Dinosaur. A movie which, for the record, I had already mentioned, but which Andy assured me was not the one he was thinking of. But it was.
"This one!" he said, pointing at the little poster of the dinosaur.
What did we do before technology?
Sunday, March 06, 2011
Sick Again
I was sick again.
I woke up on Friday a little after five. And I was tired. Because it was 5am. And I didn't want to work out, but I reminded myself that I always feel better when I work out, and always feel icky and eat more junk when I don't.
So I dragged myself out of bed and made myself run five miles. I went slower than usual, adding on a little extra time. I wasn't gasping for breath the way I sometimes do.
And then Andy came down, and I walked him back up the stairs and we got the other boys... and then I realized I wasn't tired in the usual way.
I kept having to sit down. I didn't want coffee. I DID NOT WANT COFFEE. Or food. Also, my tummy was starting to hurt.
I managed to get the kids to school, and then I slept. And then I picked Andy and Nate up, and I slept some more. I called Steve and asked him to bring home milk. I watched a little TV, but my head was hurting, so I stopped. And I slept some more. Nick came home, and I put on a movie. I climbed back into bed. Steve came home. I said hello to him, and I climbed back into bed.
And I stayed there until 6am this morning.
I feel much better now. A whole different person.
I woke up on Friday a little after five. And I was tired. Because it was 5am. And I didn't want to work out, but I reminded myself that I always feel better when I work out, and always feel icky and eat more junk when I don't.
So I dragged myself out of bed and made myself run five miles. I went slower than usual, adding on a little extra time. I wasn't gasping for breath the way I sometimes do.
And then Andy came down, and I walked him back up the stairs and we got the other boys... and then I realized I wasn't tired in the usual way.
I kept having to sit down. I didn't want coffee. I DID NOT WANT COFFEE. Or food. Also, my tummy was starting to hurt.
I managed to get the kids to school, and then I slept. And then I picked Andy and Nate up, and I slept some more. I called Steve and asked him to bring home milk. I watched a little TV, but my head was hurting, so I stopped. And I slept some more. Nick came home, and I put on a movie. I climbed back into bed. Steve came home. I said hello to him, and I climbed back into bed.
And I stayed there until 6am this morning.
I feel much better now. A whole different person.
Saturday, March 05, 2011
Schedule Change
I have been setting my alarm for 5am to run.
It's always been a challenge figuring out when to fit in my run.
I've tried many things in the past. Mostly I did one of two things depending on the day's schedule. I rushed home after dropping the kids off at school, getting on the treadmill, and running really fast, then rushing through my shower and showing up, out of breath, to pick up the younger two.
Or, I turned on the TV, handed the kids their DS's, and barricaded the room with baby gates before getting on the treadmill, turning every so often to shout "give that back to your brother!" and "No jumping on your brother's head!"
It was not fun. I felt that I was giving up all of my alone time to running (I was) and I had to cancel any time I had anything else to do, like food shopping, or a doctor's appointment. And when the kids were with me I often ended early and angry.
So last month I made a choice. I would try to run before the boys woke in the morning.
The boys often wake up before 6am. I don't know why. I have tried to discourage it. But even after late nights they wake before first light.
But 5am is the earliest I will get up. No earlier. I bought an alarm clock. I lay out the boys clothing the night before. And my clothing. And my workout clothes. I pack the boys backpacks and get everything ready to go.
And for the most part, it works.
I ran into a few glitches. The boys sometimes wander into the basement in the middle of my run, and then I have to stop and figure out what to do (I usually send them back to bed, or tell them to go up and read books quietly.) A few times they will be awake when my alarm goes off. Once I even heard Andy say "What was that noise?" when I turned it off.
But for the most part, I am happy with this arrangement. I gives me a couple of extra hours on some days, or lets me work out on days I wouldn't otherwise have time.
Yes, I get tired.
Which is why I have started sleeping again at naptime.
It's always been a challenge figuring out when to fit in my run.
I've tried many things in the past. Mostly I did one of two things depending on the day's schedule. I rushed home after dropping the kids off at school, getting on the treadmill, and running really fast, then rushing through my shower and showing up, out of breath, to pick up the younger two.
Or, I turned on the TV, handed the kids their DS's, and barricaded the room with baby gates before getting on the treadmill, turning every so often to shout "give that back to your brother!" and "No jumping on your brother's head!"
It was not fun. I felt that I was giving up all of my alone time to running (I was) and I had to cancel any time I had anything else to do, like food shopping, or a doctor's appointment. And when the kids were with me I often ended early and angry.
So last month I made a choice. I would try to run before the boys woke in the morning.
The boys often wake up before 6am. I don't know why. I have tried to discourage it. But even after late nights they wake before first light.
But 5am is the earliest I will get up. No earlier. I bought an alarm clock. I lay out the boys clothing the night before. And my clothing. And my workout clothes. I pack the boys backpacks and get everything ready to go.
And for the most part, it works.
I ran into a few glitches. The boys sometimes wander into the basement in the middle of my run, and then I have to stop and figure out what to do (I usually send them back to bed, or tell them to go up and read books quietly.) A few times they will be awake when my alarm goes off. Once I even heard Andy say "What was that noise?" when I turned it off.
But for the most part, I am happy with this arrangement. I gives me a couple of extra hours on some days, or lets me work out on days I wouldn't otherwise have time.
Yes, I get tired.
Which is why I have started sleeping again at naptime.
Friday, March 04, 2011
Laundry
I hate doing laundry. I do it every single day, but it never gets done. There's always more. And the creatures I live with keep making things dirty! They're always peeing in the bed (kids), or throwing up on the duvet (cats) , or spilling tomato sauce on their pants (ok, this was me.)
I know I'm supposed to be thankful we have a washer and dryer, but I wonder. If I had to lug everything to the laundromat, then at least it would be one day of intense laundry and I wouldn't have it hanging over my head every single minute of the day.
I know I'm supposed to be thankful we have a washer and dryer, but I wonder. If I had to lug everything to the laundromat, then at least it would be one day of intense laundry and I wouldn't have it hanging over my head every single minute of the day.
Thursday, March 03, 2011
Pores
In my quest to uncover all of my flaws, I have discovered that I have large pores.
I know. This is odd. I don't spend a lot of time thinking about things like pores or my skin, unless I'm breaking out or sunburned. But apparently, this way of thinking has added up to years of neglect. And now my skin is blotchy and uneven and I have large pores. I must have read an article or something, because I can't figure out why I suddenly became obsessed with this.
Anyway, there is no cure for large pores. You just cleanse your skin and then try to tighten them up somehow. I chose to do this with a mud mask which I purchased at the grocery store.
I used it. I was pleased, all things considered. But mostly I was pleased with my blue mud face. So was Nathan, who was startled into silence when he came in to ask me / complain about something and saw me propped up on pillows, my face bright blue. He stood there for a few moments, a little smile or his lips, his eyes HUGE, and then left. I think he was torn between screaming and asking me to put some on him. Then he left and I overheard him telling Andy I had blue on my face.
I know. This is odd. I don't spend a lot of time thinking about things like pores or my skin, unless I'm breaking out or sunburned. But apparently, this way of thinking has added up to years of neglect. And now my skin is blotchy and uneven and I have large pores. I must have read an article or something, because I can't figure out why I suddenly became obsessed with this.
Anyway, there is no cure for large pores. You just cleanse your skin and then try to tighten them up somehow. I chose to do this with a mud mask which I purchased at the grocery store.
I used it. I was pleased, all things considered. But mostly I was pleased with my blue mud face. So was Nathan, who was startled into silence when he came in to ask me / complain about something and saw me propped up on pillows, my face bright blue. He stood there for a few moments, a little smile or his lips, his eyes HUGE, and then left. I think he was torn between screaming and asking me to put some on him. Then he left and I overheard him telling Andy I had blue on my face.
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
Need a Rush
When does middle age start? Am I qualified to be middle aged? I mean, I'm over 35, so this very well might be the middle of my life, or the beginning of the middle of my life. Then again, I could get hit my a bus...
I'm not trying to be morbid. Not at all. Or fatalistic. I'm actually just trying to find a way to bring up the subject of... well, of being tired.
I'm tired. I'm tired a lot of the time. Every once and awhile I'll have a moment, or a stretch of time, a few hours, where I am not tired. I feel energized and awake and alert, and it's such a great feeling! I love it, and I want it to last forever.
But more and more often these days I am just exhausted. I want to laze about in bed and read or watch TV. I don't want to do anything but nap. I want to sleep late and fall asleep early.
I'm not sure why this is. I'm eating well, with the occasional cake binge. I'm sleeping enough. I'm working out. I don't think I'm working out too much. I'm not really under any unusual stress. But somehow it's all adding up. Last night I went to bed before 9 and still had to drag myself out of bed ten hours later. Even if I'm not middle aged, I feel old.
I'm not trying to be morbid. Not at all. Or fatalistic. I'm actually just trying to find a way to bring up the subject of... well, of being tired.
I'm tired. I'm tired a lot of the time. Every once and awhile I'll have a moment, or a stretch of time, a few hours, where I am not tired. I feel energized and awake and alert, and it's such a great feeling! I love it, and I want it to last forever.
But more and more often these days I am just exhausted. I want to laze about in bed and read or watch TV. I don't want to do anything but nap. I want to sleep late and fall asleep early.
I'm not sure why this is. I'm eating well, with the occasional cake binge. I'm sleeping enough. I'm working out. I don't think I'm working out too much. I'm not really under any unusual stress. But somehow it's all adding up. Last night I went to bed before 9 and still had to drag myself out of bed ten hours later. Even if I'm not middle aged, I feel old.
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
Fifty Cents...
I still make Andy take a nap.
He's the only one. Sometimes the other boys will nap, but they are older so I almost always let them choose. Andy, however, melts into a puddle of whiny snotty tears at 5pm unless he gets to spend at least one hour unconscious.
To get Andy to sleep, I usually lay down with him. I know I shouldn't. I used to be able to send Nick to nap alone, and he would. But Nate was more stubborn, and he and Nick found out they could talk to each other and pinch each other for hours without sleeping, so I started staying with them thinking I would break them into it slowly.
Instead, when Andy was born I just started sleeping with them, or reading until everyone fell asleep and I could get up and do stuff. If I don't, they never settled down, and I appreciated the time to read or nap myself.
So now it's just Andy, and the other boys "play quietly."
I like resting with Andy. It gives us some time alone. And although most days I read him a book, some days, like today, we'll look at the computer a little.
Today we looked at the Bronx Zoo, and I told him that we might actually go there for April Vacation. I told him we might be able to ride a camel. He got excited. Then he asked if there were elephants. There are - and I told him so. But then I realized they were part of an exhibit that opened in May. April comes before May, and I told him I wasn't sure if they could be seen before May. "We'll have to see if they show the elephants before May," I said.
And then I realized that Andy's chin was trembling and tears were in his eyes. "But I want to see elephants!" he cried.
I told him we would keep going to zoos until we found some elephants.
He's the only one. Sometimes the other boys will nap, but they are older so I almost always let them choose. Andy, however, melts into a puddle of whiny snotty tears at 5pm unless he gets to spend at least one hour unconscious.
To get Andy to sleep, I usually lay down with him. I know I shouldn't. I used to be able to send Nick to nap alone, and he would. But Nate was more stubborn, and he and Nick found out they could talk to each other and pinch each other for hours without sleeping, so I started staying with them thinking I would break them into it slowly.
Instead, when Andy was born I just started sleeping with them, or reading until everyone fell asleep and I could get up and do stuff. If I don't, they never settled down, and I appreciated the time to read or nap myself.
So now it's just Andy, and the other boys "play quietly."
I like resting with Andy. It gives us some time alone. And although most days I read him a book, some days, like today, we'll look at the computer a little.
Today we looked at the Bronx Zoo, and I told him that we might actually go there for April Vacation. I told him we might be able to ride a camel. He got excited. Then he asked if there were elephants. There are - and I told him so. But then I realized they were part of an exhibit that opened in May. April comes before May, and I told him I wasn't sure if they could be seen before May. "We'll have to see if they show the elephants before May," I said.
And then I realized that Andy's chin was trembling and tears were in his eyes. "But I want to see elephants!" he cried.
I told him we would keep going to zoos until we found some elephants.
Monday, February 28, 2011
The End Of February
It's snowing. Again.
I shouldn't be surprised. Here in New England we get snow through the end of March and flurries until April. Once we even got 2 feet on April 1st.
Still, I see February as the hump month, or the Wednesday of Winter, if you will. It's the Month we have to get past so we can get to Spring.
Maybe this is why the snow today didn't get me down as much as it should have. It's the end of February. Do your worst, snow! Spring is coming. The flowers will wake up, and you will melt into the muddy earth. And it's only a matter of time before we are struggling with the windows, trying to create a breeze in the house to cool us down.
Also, this is why they put the Easter stuff out. To remind us that Spring is around the corner, at with it, chocolate and jelly beans!
I shouldn't be surprised. Here in New England we get snow through the end of March and flurries until April. Once we even got 2 feet on April 1st.
Still, I see February as the hump month, or the Wednesday of Winter, if you will. It's the Month we have to get past so we can get to Spring.
Maybe this is why the snow today didn't get me down as much as it should have. It's the end of February. Do your worst, snow! Spring is coming. The flowers will wake up, and you will melt into the muddy earth. And it's only a matter of time before we are struggling with the windows, trying to create a breeze in the house to cool us down.
Also, this is why they put the Easter stuff out. To remind us that Spring is around the corner, at with it, chocolate and jelly beans!
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Is It Easter Yet?
I went to the grocery store to buy valentine's chocolate and they were taking it off the shelves. It drives me crazy that they can't even wait until the day of the actual holiday to take everything away. Apparently we were supposed to stock up the day after New Year's.And now we are supposed to be buying jelly beans and chocolate bunnies. They were being set up before Valentine's day. The tragedy is that Easter is not until the end of April. And I can't buy Easter candy NOW. I'd just eat it. Or I'd stash it on a high shelf intending to save it for baskets and then, one night, in a moment of weakness, my brain would turn itself off and I would find myself eating six Cadbury Eggs at once.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Winners and Losers
In Vegas there's a lot of gambling. And when there's gambling, there are winners and losers. And without further ado.... The Winners and Losers of 2011 Vegas:
Big Winner: The Fountains Brunch at Bellagio. We stayed at Bellagio. We needed to eat. This brunch was "upscale" and by that I mean "expensive" at $60 a head before drinks or tip. It was so, so worth the money. Exquisite food, view of the fountain, and a whole room of desserts. Which, by the way, we were too full to eat. But we did anyway. If you ever ever are in Las Vegas on a Sunday morning, go here. You will not be sorry.
Big Loser: The Amazing Johnathan. Not so amazing. Sadly.
Winner: Jean-Phillipe's Chocolate Waterfall. This Patisserie was also in the Bellagio. It's a creperie. And there are beautiful cakes on display. I didn't eat either of those, but did have an overpriced croissant and a coffee. But the best part is the waterfall, which has three different kinds of chocolate falling, and the lady in the chocolate dress.
Loser: It was cold. Not as cold as here, but colder than last year. This didn't stop some people from swimming in the pool. I was not one of these people. I require at least 60 degrees before immersing myself in water.
Winner: Ginger Martinis.
Winner: The Lord-of-the-Rings slot machine. Because it played clips from the movie, and was in one of those high-backed chairs that shake when the volume gets loud and the speakers are right on the headrest. I didn't win any money on it. But it was more fun than the 7's and the cherries and the lemons.
Big Winner: The Fountains Brunch at Bellagio. We stayed at Bellagio. We needed to eat. This brunch was "upscale" and by that I mean "expensive" at $60 a head before drinks or tip. It was so, so worth the money. Exquisite food, view of the fountain, and a whole room of desserts. Which, by the way, we were too full to eat. But we did anyway. If you ever ever are in Las Vegas on a Sunday morning, go here. You will not be sorry.
Big Loser: The Amazing Johnathan. Not so amazing. Sadly.
Winner: Jean-Phillipe's Chocolate Waterfall. This Patisserie was also in the Bellagio. It's a creperie. And there are beautiful cakes on display. I didn't eat either of those, but did have an overpriced croissant and a coffee. But the best part is the waterfall, which has three different kinds of chocolate falling, and the lady in the chocolate dress.
Loser: It was cold. Not as cold as here, but colder than last year. This didn't stop some people from swimming in the pool. I was not one of these people. I require at least 60 degrees before immersing myself in water.
Winner: Ginger Martinis.
Winner: The Lord-of-the-Rings slot machine. Because it played clips from the movie, and was in one of those high-backed chairs that shake when the volume gets loud and the speakers are right on the headrest. I didn't win any money on it. But it was more fun than the 7's and the cherries and the lemons.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
In My Dreams
I just came back from a trip to Las Vegas.
Vegas is over stimulating. There is so much going on, all the time. Slot machines beeping, clinking, flashing, and playing the same musical phrases over and over. Everything is over the top, at you all the time, and at any moment a big busted lady in almost no clothing will offer you a cocktail.
The time change and the change in lifestyle added up while I was there. I didn't get a lot of sleep, but spent the time in the hotel room reading World Without End, a book that captivated me from the first page, which is the only reason I would lug it to Vegas with me in the first place, because it's 1000 pages long. I have an ipad and can get books on that, but no, I lugged the old fashioned paper book. The story takes place in 1300 England, and centers around this cathedral and a hospital. Naturally it involves a number of monks and nuns.
My first night back from Vegas we got home at 1am and I fell into bed, exhausted.
And then I had this dream that I was trying to build a casino run by monks.
Vegas is over stimulating. There is so much going on, all the time. Slot machines beeping, clinking, flashing, and playing the same musical phrases over and over. Everything is over the top, at you all the time, and at any moment a big busted lady in almost no clothing will offer you a cocktail.
The time change and the change in lifestyle added up while I was there. I didn't get a lot of sleep, but spent the time in the hotel room reading World Without End, a book that captivated me from the first page, which is the only reason I would lug it to Vegas with me in the first place, because it's 1000 pages long. I have an ipad and can get books on that, but no, I lugged the old fashioned paper book. The story takes place in 1300 England, and centers around this cathedral and a hospital. Naturally it involves a number of monks and nuns.
My first night back from Vegas we got home at 1am and I fell into bed, exhausted.
And then I had this dream that I was trying to build a casino run by monks.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Yoga Yoga
This morning I did a little yoga, 30 minutes, for the first time since I got sick.
And my back is sore. And my arms.
I take this as a sign that it is doing something.
Soon I'll be doing the advanced DVD's, where the lady casually says things like "place your knee over your shoulder" and balances on one arm with her legs sticking out to the side. Even Nathan's jaw drops when I play this DVD. What she does is just impossible unless one dislocates one's limbs while in a gravity-free zone.
And my back is sore. And my arms.
I take this as a sign that it is doing something.
Soon I'll be doing the advanced DVD's, where the lady casually says things like "place your knee over your shoulder" and balances on one arm with her legs sticking out to the side. Even Nathan's jaw drops when I play this DVD. What she does is just impossible unless one dislocates one's limbs while in a gravity-free zone.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Hypocrite
Is it wrong to discourage my boys from biting their nails... when it is painfully obvious, looking at my hands, that I bite my own nails?
Sunday, February 20, 2011
The Sounds Of Spring
The past couple of days have been extraordinarily warm.
I bundled Nick up to wait for the school bus, as usual, and as we stood there I realized it was noisier than usual. "What do you hear?" I asked.
Birds. There were birds singing.
And rain. Only it was snow melting and dripping off the roofs of houses.
And a stream. Only it was just the melting snow running downhill.
Warm weather does amazing things for my soul. I get happy in a way I forgot that I could. The cold and dark of winter hardens people, I think.
After two days of weather so warm I sent the boys out to ride bikes without coats, it is scheduled to get cold again tomorrow.
I can't wait for spring.
I bundled Nick up to wait for the school bus, as usual, and as we stood there I realized it was noisier than usual. "What do you hear?" I asked.
Birds. There were birds singing.
And rain. Only it was snow melting and dripping off the roofs of houses.
And a stream. Only it was just the melting snow running downhill.
Warm weather does amazing things for my soul. I get happy in a way I forgot that I could. The cold and dark of winter hardens people, I think.
After two days of weather so warm I sent the boys out to ride bikes without coats, it is scheduled to get cold again tomorrow.
I can't wait for spring.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Andy Speak
The other day I was making grilled cheeses for lunch.
Andy: I want to help!
Me: OK.
Andy: I can't see!
Me: Here, stand on this stool, but stay away from the hot stove.
Andy: I want a tarantula!
Me: A spider?
Andy: No, a tarantula.
Me: A tarantula is a big spider.
Andy: No, to cook with.
Me: Oh, you mean a Spatula!
Andy: I want to help!
Me: OK.
Andy: I can't see!
Me: Here, stand on this stool, but stay away from the hot stove.
Andy: I want a tarantula!
Me: A spider?
Andy: No, a tarantula.
Me: A tarantula is a big spider.
Andy: No, to cook with.
Me: Oh, you mean a Spatula!
Friday, February 18, 2011
Knock Knock!
The boys like to tell jokes.
They don't quite grasp the concept of humor, though. Nick is getting there, but somehow all joke telling sessions end with someone shouting "Fart Fart Poopy Pants!" and all three boys collapsing with laughter. While I sit there and try not to look scared, because I have never found the word fart funny in my life. I just skipped that stage.
Andy likes to tell the "Interrupting Cow" joke. But he tells it like this:
A: Knock Knock
B: Who's There?
A: The Interpring Cow.
B: The Interrupting Cow Who?
A: ... MOO!
And then Nick tries to explain that he messed it up, he has to *interrupt* or it doesn't make sense.
But to tell the truth, the joke is kind of old. And somehow I find Andy's version funnier.
They don't quite grasp the concept of humor, though. Nick is getting there, but somehow all joke telling sessions end with someone shouting "Fart Fart Poopy Pants!" and all three boys collapsing with laughter. While I sit there and try not to look scared, because I have never found the word fart funny in my life. I just skipped that stage.
Andy likes to tell the "Interrupting Cow" joke. But he tells it like this:
A: Knock Knock
B: Who's There?
A: The Interpring Cow.
B: The Interrupting Cow Who?
A: ... MOO!
And then Nick tries to explain that he messed it up, he has to *interrupt* or it doesn't make sense.
But to tell the truth, the joke is kind of old. And somehow I find Andy's version funnier.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
And Better Than Ever!
I'm Back!
After all this time (days and days!) I'm surprised if anyone is still checking in. Please forgive me.
See, I was totally knocked out either by this stomach bug or food poisoning or something. I was up almost all night on Sunday. I'll just say I wasn't throwing up or anything, and that's all the detail you'll get on that part except to say that I have never experienced anything like this before in my life, and at one point after a few sleepless hours I became alarmed I was getting too dehydrated. Which was serious because Steve was away on a trip, and I was alone with the boys, and if I passed out or died there would be no one to feed them and they would wander out into the street and get hit by a car. (note: it's far more likely that they would just turn on the TV and play their hand held video game devices for hours.)
Naturally and logically, I decided to measure my dehydration by stepping on the bathroom scale. I lost four pounds that night. On my frame, this is kind of a lot. Oddly, I kept thinking that maybe, just maybe, I would feel well enough in the morning to hop on the treadmill for a five mile run.
I did not.
The next few days were a blur. Not only could I not run on the treadmill (I didn't try) I got tired walking down the stairs. I was reluctant to eat anything. And I was running a fever. A low fever, but still. Whaaa. Poor me.
So here I was with the boys, shuffling to get them to school and get them fed and all that. And an amazing thing happened: I got almost everything done that I needed to get done. Well, except laundry. But I relaxed about getting Nick out the door in time for the bus, thinking I would just drive him to school if he missed it. And he didn't miss it. I remembered to send the boys to school with valentines and remembered to bring in ice-cream for Nate's school party. When the boys were at school I slept. When it was time for Andy's nap I slept and let Nate play video games. When Nick got home we did piano practice, slowly. We did homework, quietly. And then I put on a Sesame Street video and slowly made supper - chicken and rice. I ate the rice.
Bit by bit I became human again. And yesterday afternoon I bounded down the stairs after putting away two loads of laundry feeling on top of the world! I have never felt better in my life! It had been years since I've felt so ALIVE!
Of course, this morning I went for my five mile run, and afterwards I noticed that I had pain shooting through the muscles in my legs. Which I think means I am still a little dehydrated. It's a process.
After all this time (days and days!) I'm surprised if anyone is still checking in. Please forgive me.
See, I was totally knocked out either by this stomach bug or food poisoning or something. I was up almost all night on Sunday. I'll just say I wasn't throwing up or anything, and that's all the detail you'll get on that part except to say that I have never experienced anything like this before in my life, and at one point after a few sleepless hours I became alarmed I was getting too dehydrated. Which was serious because Steve was away on a trip, and I was alone with the boys, and if I passed out or died there would be no one to feed them and they would wander out into the street and get hit by a car. (note: it's far more likely that they would just turn on the TV and play their hand held video game devices for hours.)
Naturally and logically, I decided to measure my dehydration by stepping on the bathroom scale. I lost four pounds that night. On my frame, this is kind of a lot. Oddly, I kept thinking that maybe, just maybe, I would feel well enough in the morning to hop on the treadmill for a five mile run.
I did not.
The next few days were a blur. Not only could I not run on the treadmill (I didn't try) I got tired walking down the stairs. I was reluctant to eat anything. And I was running a fever. A low fever, but still. Whaaa. Poor me.
So here I was with the boys, shuffling to get them to school and get them fed and all that. And an amazing thing happened: I got almost everything done that I needed to get done. Well, except laundry. But I relaxed about getting Nick out the door in time for the bus, thinking I would just drive him to school if he missed it. And he didn't miss it. I remembered to send the boys to school with valentines and remembered to bring in ice-cream for Nate's school party. When the boys were at school I slept. When it was time for Andy's nap I slept and let Nate play video games. When Nick got home we did piano practice, slowly. We did homework, quietly. And then I put on a Sesame Street video and slowly made supper - chicken and rice. I ate the rice.
Bit by bit I became human again. And yesterday afternoon I bounded down the stairs after putting away two loads of laundry feeling on top of the world! I have never felt better in my life! It had been years since I've felt so ALIVE!
Of course, this morning I went for my five mile run, and afterwards I noticed that I had pain shooting through the muscles in my legs. Which I think means I am still a little dehydrated. It's a process.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Valentine!
Taken From Cake Wrecks, one of my favorite blogs. Read every single one, folks. And have a happy happy day!
Sunday, February 13, 2011
On Hold
I'm not feeling very well. I have a little bit of a tummy thing. No big deal. Just feeling really icky and not up to talking. Or writing. Or eating anything.
Please forgive me for taking a few days off of blogging.
Please forgive me for taking a few days off of blogging.
Friday, February 11, 2011
How Much Snow Is There?
There is so much snow in our yard, that when the Oil Fiasco was going on the other day, Gunther got out. But instead of running over to the oil guy or to Steve, he stood on the edge of the snow and barked. Because even the dog won't go trudging through the snow in the yard.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Oil Fiasco
Remember how we ran out of oil?
Well, that was on Sunday, and not just any Sunday, but Superbowl Sunday. The Day When Nothing Gets Done.
Steve called the company, because we are supposed to be on automatic delivery. They usually come around with the truck and fill up the tank, need it or not. But for some reason they hadn't lately. Anyway, the lady who answered the phone paged some guy who was on duty and who came around with five gallons of kerosene. But we knew it wouldn't be enough to keep us warm for very long, and we weren't sure when the oil truck would be stopping by next.
So we conserved. We turned the heat on only in the rooms we would be in, and only as high as sixty degrees. We wore sweaters. I did not run the dishwasher, or bathe the children, or shower myself (I did run and then tried to take a cold shower, but the cold shower was way, way colder than I thought it would be, and I only lasted three tenths of a second before screaming the scream of death and making my way back out into the frigid air of the bathroom where I gasped in pain and shock. I took a sponge bath instead.)
Needless to say, we were all very happy to see the oil guy on Monday morning.
We almost missed him, you see, because he didn't come to the house. I happened to look out the window to see why the dog was barking his head off and saw the oil guy standing at the top of the driveway, staring at the house as though it were something unusual, like a spaceship, or perhaps a T-Rex. Steve then threw on his boots and walked out to meet him.
I wasn't out there, but it turned out the guy didn't want to walk through the snow. He had been there just last week, he said. Did the office call us? They told him they left a message. He told them to call us. But there was no way he was going to walk through the snow.
Let me just say here that I think it is actually reasonable to state that you prefer not to walk through three feet of snow if you are a delivery person. However, if you are unable to deliver oil because of that, leave a NOTE! CALL US! Tell us what you need us to do so we can accommodate you and we won't run out of oil when it is ten degrees outside. Not doing this is irresponsible.
Anyway, the guy wouldn't do it. So Steve said he would.
The guy went back to his truck, and Steve dragged the heavy hose through the snow to the side of the house and filled up the tank. The oil bill was over $850, (it should last us 6 weeks) and we got no discount for Steve doing the work, nor did he, or we, ever get an apology or any kind for not delivering our oil, or for not informing us of our responsibility to keep our yard free of snow.
The cherry on top is that Steve hurt his back tromping through the snow with the hose, and is now in constant pain. Each time he has to get up, or turn over, or walk, he remembers the oil fiasco.
Well, that was on Sunday, and not just any Sunday, but Superbowl Sunday. The Day When Nothing Gets Done.
Steve called the company, because we are supposed to be on automatic delivery. They usually come around with the truck and fill up the tank, need it or not. But for some reason they hadn't lately. Anyway, the lady who answered the phone paged some guy who was on duty and who came around with five gallons of kerosene. But we knew it wouldn't be enough to keep us warm for very long, and we weren't sure when the oil truck would be stopping by next.
So we conserved. We turned the heat on only in the rooms we would be in, and only as high as sixty degrees. We wore sweaters. I did not run the dishwasher, or bathe the children, or shower myself (I did run and then tried to take a cold shower, but the cold shower was way, way colder than I thought it would be, and I only lasted three tenths of a second before screaming the scream of death and making my way back out into the frigid air of the bathroom where I gasped in pain and shock. I took a sponge bath instead.)
Needless to say, we were all very happy to see the oil guy on Monday morning.
We almost missed him, you see, because he didn't come to the house. I happened to look out the window to see why the dog was barking his head off and saw the oil guy standing at the top of the driveway, staring at the house as though it were something unusual, like a spaceship, or perhaps a T-Rex. Steve then threw on his boots and walked out to meet him.
I wasn't out there, but it turned out the guy didn't want to walk through the snow. He had been there just last week, he said. Did the office call us? They told him they left a message. He told them to call us. But there was no way he was going to walk through the snow.
Let me just say here that I think it is actually reasonable to state that you prefer not to walk through three feet of snow if you are a delivery person. However, if you are unable to deliver oil because of that, leave a NOTE! CALL US! Tell us what you need us to do so we can accommodate you and we won't run out of oil when it is ten degrees outside. Not doing this is irresponsible.
Anyway, the guy wouldn't do it. So Steve said he would.
The guy went back to his truck, and Steve dragged the heavy hose through the snow to the side of the house and filled up the tank. The oil bill was over $850, (it should last us 6 weeks) and we got no discount for Steve doing the work, nor did he, or we, ever get an apology or any kind for not delivering our oil, or for not informing us of our responsibility to keep our yard free of snow.
The cherry on top is that Steve hurt his back tromping through the snow with the hose, and is now in constant pain. Each time he has to get up, or turn over, or walk, he remembers the oil fiasco.
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
Fifth Disease
Nick got Fifth Disease two weeks ago.
His cheeks got bright red, and his arms and tummy were all rashy. They didn't itch. He didn't have a fever. It was just this random rash that hung around. His teacher said Fifth Disease was going around, but that once the rash was present it was no longer contagious.
Andy got it the next week. He never had a fever, wasn't really sick. He just got this rash. And since he got it Monday afternoon, and didn't have school Wednesday, I just sent him in on Friday.
Well, the teachers didn't love having him all bright red and rashy. They wanted a note from the doctor saying it was OK for him to be at school. Which was a problem. Because it was Friday. There are no appointments over the weekend. And also the boys had a make-up gymnastics class at 2pm, and Nick and Nate were supposed to go to Karate at 4:15.
We didn't make it to Karate. But I did get a doctor's note for Andy.
And then, this weekend, Nate started acting sluggish. Dragging his feet, being quiet. And Sunday his cheeks popped up bright red.
I'm keeping him home a couple of days, just to be sure. But I hope the school won't make me go back to the doctor to get a note just for him.
His cheeks got bright red, and his arms and tummy were all rashy. They didn't itch. He didn't have a fever. It was just this random rash that hung around. His teacher said Fifth Disease was going around, but that once the rash was present it was no longer contagious.
Andy got it the next week. He never had a fever, wasn't really sick. He just got this rash. And since he got it Monday afternoon, and didn't have school Wednesday, I just sent him in on Friday.
Well, the teachers didn't love having him all bright red and rashy. They wanted a note from the doctor saying it was OK for him to be at school. Which was a problem. Because it was Friday. There are no appointments over the weekend. And also the boys had a make-up gymnastics class at 2pm, and Nick and Nate were supposed to go to Karate at 4:15.
We didn't make it to Karate. But I did get a doctor's note for Andy.
And then, this weekend, Nate started acting sluggish. Dragging his feet, being quiet. And Sunday his cheeks popped up bright red.
I'm keeping him home a couple of days, just to be sure. But I hope the school won't make me go back to the doctor to get a note just for him.
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
Oil
This morning we woke up to a cold house.
I figured I had run around the night before and turned the heat in all the rooms down. I do that sometimes, especially after I watch or read certain ecological or environmental articles or documentaries.
But I hadn't. Instead, we had simply run out of heating fuel.
See, we have oil heat. And the oil heats water, which runs in pipes to heat our home and also to give us hot water. But the oil needs to be delivered. A truck usually comes by every few weeks and blocks our driveway while a guy drags a huge hose over to the side of the home. The dog barks for 10 minutes straight, once breaking a window in his fury.
But the guy hadn't come by for over a month.
It's the kind of thing we should have noticed, but didn't.
And so we were caught with no heat or hot water.
Of course this is Sunday.
Steve was able to get someone to come by with a few gallons, but not what we usually use, and nothing that would last more than a couple of days. So we turned down all the heat. No washing dishes (which just means a sink of dirty dishes) and no baths (until after I run tomorrow, when I shall shower.)
I hope the real delivery guy comes tomorrow.
I figured I had run around the night before and turned the heat in all the rooms down. I do that sometimes, especially after I watch or read certain ecological or environmental articles or documentaries.
But I hadn't. Instead, we had simply run out of heating fuel.
See, we have oil heat. And the oil heats water, which runs in pipes to heat our home and also to give us hot water. But the oil needs to be delivered. A truck usually comes by every few weeks and blocks our driveway while a guy drags a huge hose over to the side of the home. The dog barks for 10 minutes straight, once breaking a window in his fury.
But the guy hadn't come by for over a month.
It's the kind of thing we should have noticed, but didn't.
And so we were caught with no heat or hot water.
Of course this is Sunday.
Steve was able to get someone to come by with a few gallons, but not what we usually use, and nothing that would last more than a couple of days. So we turned down all the heat. No washing dishes (which just means a sink of dirty dishes) and no baths (until after I run tomorrow, when I shall shower.)
I hope the real delivery guy comes tomorrow.
Monday, February 07, 2011
Agh! Ack! Thhhpt!
I have to make a confession. I have this habit of writing a week's worth of posts ahead of time. I pre-post, or schedule things to be posted.
This makes sense for me, because I don't always have time to sit down and decide what to say. It' a lot easier for me to get a bunch of writing done at once.
But there are a couple of drawbacks. For one thing, should I get a little gloomy and depressed and write about how I'm trapped in my home with my children and they are slowly pecking me to death with requests for juice, it may not actually get published for a few days. And then, by the time it does, I will be fine, and the juice-rush gone.
Another drawback is that I somehow need to to come up with a week's worth of posts at one sitting. A whole week. Which is why some days you might check in and all you find a a photograph of one of the boys picking his nose, or a sentence about how I have run out of shampoo. I know. But my life really isn't that interesting.
This is one of those times. I sit down to write and... I've got nothin'. Not even a poorly shot photograph.
Boy is this week gonna be fun!
This makes sense for me, because I don't always have time to sit down and decide what to say. It' a lot easier for me to get a bunch of writing done at once.
But there are a couple of drawbacks. For one thing, should I get a little gloomy and depressed and write about how I'm trapped in my home with my children and they are slowly pecking me to death with requests for juice, it may not actually get published for a few days. And then, by the time it does, I will be fine, and the juice-rush gone.
Another drawback is that I somehow need to to come up with a week's worth of posts at one sitting. A whole week. Which is why some days you might check in and all you find a a photograph of one of the boys picking his nose, or a sentence about how I have run out of shampoo. I know. But my life really isn't that interesting.
This is one of those times. I sit down to write and... I've got nothin'. Not even a poorly shot photograph.
Boy is this week gonna be fun!
Sunday, February 06, 2011
How to not live to see four
The other morning I made bagels for breakfast.
This is a treat for the boys. They love bagels. I think it's because we refused to let them have them for a long long time, due to the fact they are a choking hazard.
I place the plate of bagels on the table, and the boys oooed and ahhed, then I started to cut one up for Andy.
"NO! I want a whole one! DOn't cut it up!"
At this point my mind did a very speedy calculation, weighing the costs of having this argument this early against the possibility of anything actually happening added to Andy's ability to cram food into his mouth.
"OK, fine. Take this one, it's a whole one. But you have to chew it Very Very carefully!"
"OK!"
"And take small bites!"
"I will!"
"I'll put this other one back on the plate, and you can have a whole one."
"Thanks!.... Now cut this one up."
This is a treat for the boys. They love bagels. I think it's because we refused to let them have them for a long long time, due to the fact they are a choking hazard.
I place the plate of bagels on the table, and the boys oooed and ahhed, then I started to cut one up for Andy.
"NO! I want a whole one! DOn't cut it up!"
At this point my mind did a very speedy calculation, weighing the costs of having this argument this early against the possibility of anything actually happening added to Andy's ability to cram food into his mouth.
"OK, fine. Take this one, it's a whole one. But you have to chew it Very Very carefully!"
"OK!"
"And take small bites!"
"I will!"
"I'll put this other one back on the plate, and you can have a whole one."
"Thanks!.... Now cut this one up."
Saturday, February 05, 2011
Seasonal Depression
I think that most years I keep a good head on my shoulders until mid to late February. That's when I start to go a little bonkers, get a little stir crazy, and I start feeling lonely and stranded and cold and dark and I hate the world because it's cold and overcast and the snow and ice are surrounding me and they are never ever going to melt and spring divorced me no one loves me and we are never going to be warm or sunny ever ever again.
The recent post of the photos of my deck? Remember that one? My brother Jamie commented that we had a lot of snow and that it wasn't even February.
February has come early, folks. And with it that cascade of self-pity and endless white of overcast sky meets snowy ground. Really, they are one and the same.
I think it's cabin fever. A need to get out and do something. I feel the need to connect and get out and buy bathing suits and plan vacations I will probably never take. May those that take them enjoy them. I will sit here and smile and pretend to be happy for you. And you can pretend I'm not jealous or feeling left out. And then we'll all drink some more wine, and life will go on.
That's the magic of it all, right? Life goes on. I have faith that, eventually, spring will come, and my tulips will break ground. I can restart my compost and plant some tomatoes. And in the long run it won't matter, will it? Because the snow will melt and it will all be forgotten. In theory.
The recent post of the photos of my deck? Remember that one? My brother Jamie commented that we had a lot of snow and that it wasn't even February.
February has come early, folks. And with it that cascade of self-pity and endless white of overcast sky meets snowy ground. Really, they are one and the same.
I think it's cabin fever. A need to get out and do something. I feel the need to connect and get out and buy bathing suits and plan vacations I will probably never take. May those that take them enjoy them. I will sit here and smile and pretend to be happy for you. And you can pretend I'm not jealous or feeling left out. And then we'll all drink some more wine, and life will go on.
That's the magic of it all, right? Life goes on. I have faith that, eventually, spring will come, and my tulips will break ground. I can restart my compost and plant some tomatoes. And in the long run it won't matter, will it? Because the snow will melt and it will all be forgotten. In theory.
Friday, February 04, 2011
Thursday, February 03, 2011
Wednesday, February 02, 2011
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
Physics
The Museum of Science has an exhibit which explains that an ant can walk on the ceiling because it is so small, but if it were 300 time bigger it wouldn't be structurally able to live.Just as Andy, or someone his size, can remain suspended on the crusty lower level of older snow, while I need snowshoes to take three steps.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Evolution of snow
Remember that photo I posted of the chair on our deck covered in snow? This one:
Well this is what happened:
And then this:
The chair is still facing the shot. You can also see the back of a second chair facing the lump that used to be our grill.
If it has to snow, fine. But then the snow should move on. Melt. Discover other waterly forms and explore the world of soil and evaporation. It shouldn't be allowed to sit there and invite it's relatives.
Well this is what happened:
And then this:
The chair is still facing the shot. You can also see the back of a second chair facing the lump that used to be our grill.
If it has to snow, fine. But then the snow should move on. Melt. Discover other waterly forms and explore the world of soil and evaporation. It shouldn't be allowed to sit there and invite it's relatives.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Insanity For Youth?
This morning it snowed. Not a lot, just a little.
Snow can mess up my whole day. If you only have one thing to do, such as make it to school, or make it to work, then you don't know what I'm talking about.
But I had to get Nick on the school bus in the morning, and then head on over to the Library for Story Hour sign-ups. This is time sensitive because the library opens at 9am, but parents begin standing in line as early as 8:15 for the limited spaces (and because a few of them need to get to work and want to get out as early as possible.) Then I had to get Andy and Nate to their Gymnastics class at a little after 10am.
My car made it up the driveway, which was nice, because our driveway is steep, and even if it snows a little I can get stuck.
But I made it out, so I figured the rest of the morning would go smoothly.
It didn't.
I think of traffic jams as things that happen to Other People. People crazy enough to live or work in or near big cities. I do neither of those things. And yet, as I pulled out onto the major road in our little town, I realized it was full of cars. And those cars were not moving.
The highway had backed up traffic for miles. After ten minutes of waiting and then trying to reach the library via an alternate route, I found out the back roads leading to the one road that takes you to the highway were also backed up. It took me 45 minutes to get to the Library.
As I sat in traffic, watching drivers move slowly so they wouldn't slide into other cars, knowing that most of the people were running late for work, I thought "I must be crazy! Why as I sitting in the traffic just for a stupid Story Hour? I should turn around and go home."
Then I thought, "All of the other parents heading to Story Hour registration have probably turned around and gone home. Or they are also running late."
And then I thought, "Maybe that means I can still get a good number!"
Stubborn, crazy me. I did it.
There was traffic, and everyone was caught in it. I managed to register for Story Hour and get the boys to Gymnastics with no problem. (Except my car wouldn't make it up the driveway the second time, so I had to put the car seat in Steve's car and drive that.) Yes, it would have been easier and probably safer to just stay home. Chalk it up to my insanity.
Snow can mess up my whole day. If you only have one thing to do, such as make it to school, or make it to work, then you don't know what I'm talking about.
But I had to get Nick on the school bus in the morning, and then head on over to the Library for Story Hour sign-ups. This is time sensitive because the library opens at 9am, but parents begin standing in line as early as 8:15 for the limited spaces (and because a few of them need to get to work and want to get out as early as possible.) Then I had to get Andy and Nate to their Gymnastics class at a little after 10am.
My car made it up the driveway, which was nice, because our driveway is steep, and even if it snows a little I can get stuck.
But I made it out, so I figured the rest of the morning would go smoothly.
It didn't.
I think of traffic jams as things that happen to Other People. People crazy enough to live or work in or near big cities. I do neither of those things. And yet, as I pulled out onto the major road in our little town, I realized it was full of cars. And those cars were not moving.
The highway had backed up traffic for miles. After ten minutes of waiting and then trying to reach the library via an alternate route, I found out the back roads leading to the one road that takes you to the highway were also backed up. It took me 45 minutes to get to the Library.
As I sat in traffic, watching drivers move slowly so they wouldn't slide into other cars, knowing that most of the people were running late for work, I thought "I must be crazy! Why as I sitting in the traffic just for a stupid Story Hour? I should turn around and go home."
Then I thought, "All of the other parents heading to Story Hour registration have probably turned around and gone home. Or they are also running late."
And then I thought, "Maybe that means I can still get a good number!"
Stubborn, crazy me. I did it.
There was traffic, and everyone was caught in it. I managed to register for Story Hour and get the boys to Gymnastics with no problem. (Except my car wouldn't make it up the driveway the second time, so I had to put the car seat in Steve's car and drive that.) Yes, it would have been easier and probably safer to just stay home. Chalk it up to my insanity.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
More about the Grocery Store
I believe I may have mentioned my experiences in grocery shopping.
Well, something happened last week. Because of the snow and the school schedules, I was forced to put my grocery shopping off by one day. One little day. 24 hours. Which brought me to the grocery store on a Saturday.
My mother refuses to grocery shop on a Monday during the summer. Apparently that is the day all the summer people shop, because they show up on Sunday and then food shop the following day.
Well... My old grocery store gets a little more crowded on the weekends. Most people work, you see. But I have never, ever seen anything as crazy as this "cheap" grocery store on Saturday.
See, in addition to being a Saturday, it had been a stormy and snowy week. So people were less likely to stop off for a few items on their way home, and came on Saturday instead.
It was a madhouse. I have never seen a store like this. Not during storms, not on sale days. Not in France. Not at Whole Foods in NY the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. The lines for checkout went clear back into the produce section. After over two hours of pushing my way through the aisles, I spend a final hour waiting to be checked out and watching a teenage boy back items without the use of his brain.
So... from now on, I refuse to go to that store on a Saturday. I like it for weekdays, but in the rare case that I need to shop Weekends? I'm going back to My Old place.
Well, something happened last week. Because of the snow and the school schedules, I was forced to put my grocery shopping off by one day. One little day. 24 hours. Which brought me to the grocery store on a Saturday.
My mother refuses to grocery shop on a Monday during the summer. Apparently that is the day all the summer people shop, because they show up on Sunday and then food shop the following day.
Well... My old grocery store gets a little more crowded on the weekends. Most people work, you see. But I have never, ever seen anything as crazy as this "cheap" grocery store on Saturday.
See, in addition to being a Saturday, it had been a stormy and snowy week. So people were less likely to stop off for a few items on their way home, and came on Saturday instead.
It was a madhouse. I have never seen a store like this. Not during storms, not on sale days. Not in France. Not at Whole Foods in NY the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. The lines for checkout went clear back into the produce section. After over two hours of pushing my way through the aisles, I spend a final hour waiting to be checked out and watching a teenage boy back items without the use of his brain.
So... from now on, I refuse to go to that store on a Saturday. I like it for weekdays, but in the rare case that I need to shop Weekends? I'm going back to My Old place.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Anywhere On The Map
Andy: Mom, will you show me where we live on this?
Me: But that's not a map, it's an Etch-a-Sketch.
Andy: Oh. Well, maybe I will draw a land!
Me: OK, you can do that!
Andy: Now show me where we live on this.
Me: But that's not a map, it's an Etch-a-Sketch.
Andy: Oh. Well, maybe I will draw a land!
Me: OK, you can do that!
Andy: Now show me where we live on this.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Colder
It' is cold.
We've had a bunch of snow, and it's still out there, sitting there, waiting to be melted by the warm sun. Only that isn't happening, because it is too cold.
This morning, driving the boys to school, the car thermometer said it was -4 outside. It's bad when you've given up on double digits and just want them to be positive ones. On the good side of the Zero.
It's so cold that none of the kids are playing outside. The air bites through coats and hats. It hurts to breathe.
We've had a bunch of snow, and it's still out there, sitting there, waiting to be melted by the warm sun. Only that isn't happening, because it is too cold.
This morning, driving the boys to school, the car thermometer said it was -4 outside. It's bad when you've given up on double digits and just want them to be positive ones. On the good side of the Zero.
It's so cold that none of the kids are playing outside. The air bites through coats and hats. It hurts to breathe.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Monday Blues
I'm back.
I took a couple of days off from posting. Time got away from me, I had nothing to write about, you know the drill. I just... needed a couple of days.
I was hoping something would happen during this time, something interesting, that would generate dozens of post topics. But... no. It has been cold. It has been snowy. The kids have been crazy. I have been running behind on laundry and the house is a mess of cardboard boxes, wires I will need if I throw them away, and tiny wads of paper.
My goal this week is to catch up. To do that I will need total cooperation from whoever programs the weather and our health.
I took a couple of days off from posting. Time got away from me, I had nothing to write about, you know the drill. I just... needed a couple of days.
I was hoping something would happen during this time, something interesting, that would generate dozens of post topics. But... no. It has been cold. It has been snowy. The kids have been crazy. I have been running behind on laundry and the house is a mess of cardboard boxes, wires I will need if I throw them away, and tiny wads of paper.
My goal this week is to catch up. To do that I will need total cooperation from whoever programs the weather and our health.
Friday, January 21, 2011
School's Out
The school called tonight. It is closed tomorrow. Because we are supposed to get snow. More snow. Because we already have more than we can use.
Remember last week when I posted a few photographs of snow on the deck? It was Wednesday of last week. Then we had the long Martin Luther King weekend with Monday off.
Tuesday it snowed again and the schools closed.
That night it rained. Schools were open on Wednesday, and I was kind of excited for some kid-free time. I made cookies for Nate's School Birthday celebration early in the morning. I packed up everyone's snow pants and boots and extra socks and hats and mittens. I packed Nick and Andy a snack. I made sure both Nate and Andy had show-and-tell items starting with the correct letters of the alphabet.
But the driveway was a skating rink. An uphill skating rink. I managed to get Nick to the top to wait for the bus, and he promptly sat down and slid down to the bottom on his behind. Even Steve's car wouldn't make it up. So then my head exploded, and I had to spend all day picking up little bits of brain out of the carpet.
See, none of the snow ever melted. It's as deep as it ever has been.
School is closed today. They called last night to let us know. More snow. On top of what we already have. Ugh.
Remember last week when I posted a few photographs of snow on the deck? It was Wednesday of last week. Then we had the long Martin Luther King weekend with Monday off.
Tuesday it snowed again and the schools closed.
That night it rained. Schools were open on Wednesday, and I was kind of excited for some kid-free time. I made cookies for Nate's School Birthday celebration early in the morning. I packed up everyone's snow pants and boots and extra socks and hats and mittens. I packed Nick and Andy a snack. I made sure both Nate and Andy had show-and-tell items starting with the correct letters of the alphabet.
But the driveway was a skating rink. An uphill skating rink. I managed to get Nick to the top to wait for the bus, and he promptly sat down and slid down to the bottom on his behind. Even Steve's car wouldn't make it up. So then my head exploded, and I had to spend all day picking up little bits of brain out of the carpet.
See, none of the snow ever melted. It's as deep as it ever has been.
School is closed today. They called last night to let us know. More snow. On top of what we already have. Ugh.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Having Faith and Flexibility
When I was a kid, I used to bite my toenails.
This sounds really gross, and I can't dispute the hygiene trouble there. But my point isn't the nail-biting issue. It's the fact that I used to bring my foot to my face.
Not front ways, but from behind. It was just easier for me, I guess. And other than a few people making faces at me, I never really thought much about it.
I am now in my mid-thirties. And I am not flexible. At all.
It never really has been a strong point. I could never do a split. I was never double jointed. And in High School I was always the one who had trouble reaching her toes during stretches. I had trouble grabbing my ankles.
It never occurred to me that I could change this. I guess I just assumed that some people were not flexible, and I was one of them. The stretching that I have done over the years, even when I started working out, has been around stretching out a muscle just so I could work with it. Not increasing flexibility in any way.
I have started doing yoga. Basic yoga. Very basic yoga. In fact, the more I do it, the more basic it becomes, as I admit to myself that I have trouble doing a straight leg forward bend.
But I'm doing it almost every day. And, being mindful not to hurt myself, I am pushing myself a little bit. Because I have decided I want my body to be a little more flexible, and have decided that I can be, as long as I give it a try. It's not too late. All I have to do is have a little faith in myself, and the discipline to follow through.
This sounds really gross, and I can't dispute the hygiene trouble there. But my point isn't the nail-biting issue. It's the fact that I used to bring my foot to my face.
Not front ways, but from behind. It was just easier for me, I guess. And other than a few people making faces at me, I never really thought much about it.
I am now in my mid-thirties. And I am not flexible. At all.
It never really has been a strong point. I could never do a split. I was never double jointed. And in High School I was always the one who had trouble reaching her toes during stretches. I had trouble grabbing my ankles.
It never occurred to me that I could change this. I guess I just assumed that some people were not flexible, and I was one of them. The stretching that I have done over the years, even when I started working out, has been around stretching out a muscle just so I could work with it. Not increasing flexibility in any way.
I have started doing yoga. Basic yoga. Very basic yoga. In fact, the more I do it, the more basic it becomes, as I admit to myself that I have trouble doing a straight leg forward bend.
But I'm doing it almost every day. And, being mindful not to hurt myself, I am pushing myself a little bit. Because I have decided I want my body to be a little more flexible, and have decided that I can be, as long as I give it a try. It's not too late. All I have to do is have a little faith in myself, and the discipline to follow through.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
White Out
New England in the winter is all white.
The leftover snow on the ground is a dull white. If there is no snow, the ground with it's winter grass is gray. The sky is white overcast with cold clouds. The trees are bare, gray. If there are leaves, they are a dull brown. Even the evergreens are more gray and black than bright green.
It makes me want to wear bright colors, pink and bright blue and purple. Maybe even orange, if I had anything that was orange. I don't, Thank Goodness. It doesn't suit my complexion.
But it made me think of some story I heard when I was a kid - I don't think it was Frosty. But it had something to do with colored snow and ice - the either build a snowman out of colored snow, or the snowman melted into colors... neither of those makes much sense, I guess.
Anyway, I'm looking forward to Easter Eggs, with vibrant colors. I kind of want to go out and start decorating this second.
The leftover snow on the ground is a dull white. If there is no snow, the ground with it's winter grass is gray. The sky is white overcast with cold clouds. The trees are bare, gray. If there are leaves, they are a dull brown. Even the evergreens are more gray and black than bright green.
It makes me want to wear bright colors, pink and bright blue and purple. Maybe even orange, if I had anything that was orange. I don't, Thank Goodness. It doesn't suit my complexion.
But it made me think of some story I heard when I was a kid - I don't think it was Frosty. But it had something to do with colored snow and ice - the either build a snowman out of colored snow, or the snowman melted into colors... neither of those makes much sense, I guess.
Anyway, I'm looking forward to Easter Eggs, with vibrant colors. I kind of want to go out and start decorating this second.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Snow
Today is another Snow Day.
You would think this might give me some extra time to write a few insightful and interesting blog posts.
But you you be thinking incorrectly.
See, snow days mean vacation only for the children. And the teachers. It means a day of no school, a day of TV and play and maybe of tromping through the snow.
If you are a working parent, it means trying to work from home, yelling into the phone and covering your other ear in an attempt to block out the sounds of your children throwing legos at each other and making loud, shooting-exploding noises at each other. Or, if you can't work from home and don't wish to call in sick, it means scrambling to try and find childcare at the very last minute, knowing that all over every other parent is also trying to find last minute childcare, and that it isn't safe to go anywhere anyway.
If you are not a working parent, a snow day means extra work. It means having to change kids in and out snowgear, finding a place to store the soggy snow gear, making lunch, doling out an endless supply of snacks, moderating arguments, monitoring the time each child spends with the coolest toys, enforcing forgotten rules, all while trying to do the housework you usually cram into a two-hour window of freedom, but instead it takes you all day because everything seems to undo itself each time you turn your head. It's not a day off. It's overtime. Unpaid overtime.
I am writing this during nap time, which means I am in my bed with Andy's head under my armpit. Nate and Nick are having "quiet time" downstairs, which means they play kind of quietly, gradually getting louder until I break down and shout "QUIET TIME!" from up here on the bed. The shouting causes Andy to wake up a little more. The older boys are silent for a minute, then begin playing softly again, starting the slow crescendo over.
given all that's going on, I just can't think of anything proper to write.
You would think this might give me some extra time to write a few insightful and interesting blog posts.
But you you be thinking incorrectly.
See, snow days mean vacation only for the children. And the teachers. It means a day of no school, a day of TV and play and maybe of tromping through the snow.
If you are a working parent, it means trying to work from home, yelling into the phone and covering your other ear in an attempt to block out the sounds of your children throwing legos at each other and making loud, shooting-exploding noises at each other. Or, if you can't work from home and don't wish to call in sick, it means scrambling to try and find childcare at the very last minute, knowing that all over every other parent is also trying to find last minute childcare, and that it isn't safe to go anywhere anyway.
If you are not a working parent, a snow day means extra work. It means having to change kids in and out snowgear, finding a place to store the soggy snow gear, making lunch, doling out an endless supply of snacks, moderating arguments, monitoring the time each child spends with the coolest toys, enforcing forgotten rules, all while trying to do the housework you usually cram into a two-hour window of freedom, but instead it takes you all day because everything seems to undo itself each time you turn your head. It's not a day off. It's overtime. Unpaid overtime.
I am writing this during nap time, which means I am in my bed with Andy's head under my armpit. Nate and Nick are having "quiet time" downstairs, which means they play kind of quietly, gradually getting louder until I break down and shout "QUIET TIME!" from up here on the bed. The shouting causes Andy to wake up a little more. The older boys are silent for a minute, then begin playing softly again, starting the slow crescendo over.
given all that's going on, I just can't think of anything proper to write.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Life On Hold
I was sitting in my bed with Andrew. We were both reading, but I was really trying to get him to take a nap. It's how we do things - read until we pass out. We're alike that way. And at nap time, it's kind of like a competition to see who can stay awake the longest. Some days I win. Some days he wins.
We'd been sitting there for awhile, and I noticed that he wasn't settling. In fact, he was shifting around in a funny kind of way.
"Andy, do you need to use the potty?" I asked.
Andy nodded. Then he handed me the book he was reading as he climbed off the bed. "Here," he said. "Pause this."
?
...
Because otherwise the book would just keep on reading itself, I guess, and might end before he got back?
We'd been sitting there for awhile, and I noticed that he wasn't settling. In fact, he was shifting around in a funny kind of way.
"Andy, do you need to use the potty?" I asked.
Andy nodded. Then he handed me the book he was reading as he climbed off the bed. "Here," he said. "Pause this."
?
...
Because otherwise the book would just keep on reading itself, I guess, and might end before he got back?
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Happy 5th Birthday, Nathan!
Happy Birthday To You!
Happy Birthday To You!
Happy Birthday, Dear Nathan!
Happy Birthday To You!
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Organized My Links
I have reorganized my Links.
You know, those things on the left side of the text? When you click on them, they take you places? Not physically, but virtually?
Anyway, until now they have all been clumped together. But over the past few weeks I discovered a couple of new sites that I find so funny I laugh until I cry when I go to them. They are White Whine and (especially) DamnYouAutocorrect. And I wanted to include links to them on this blog. But somehow it felt wrong to include them with links to other, tamer blogs that I like, especially as the blogs can be so different.
I like some blogs that include strong language, as well as others that feature mainly photographs of babies. So I divided the links like this:
People I Know: these are mainly blogs by people I know. Many of them I have actually met in person. But not all. I might have just been following their blog for so long that the line has been blurred.
Places To Go: these are sites that I think are funny. They are supposed to make you laugh. If they don't, please don't go there.
Inspirational: This doesn't really need an explanation, does it?
The lines may blur. People I Know may inspire me, or may be funny, and sometimes I just dont' know where to put people. This is why I hate boxes. Because we all fit into more than one box, right? But I hope this helps, and if nothing else, it gave me something to do.
You know, those things on the left side of the text? When you click on them, they take you places? Not physically, but virtually?
Anyway, until now they have all been clumped together. But over the past few weeks I discovered a couple of new sites that I find so funny I laugh until I cry when I go to them. They are White Whine and (especially) DamnYouAutocorrect. And I wanted to include links to them on this blog. But somehow it felt wrong to include them with links to other, tamer blogs that I like, especially as the blogs can be so different.
I like some blogs that include strong language, as well as others that feature mainly photographs of babies. So I divided the links like this:
People I Know: these are mainly blogs by people I know. Many of them I have actually met in person. But not all. I might have just been following their blog for so long that the line has been blurred.
Places To Go: these are sites that I think are funny. They are supposed to make you laugh. If they don't, please don't go there.
Inspirational: This doesn't really need an explanation, does it?
The lines may blur. People I Know may inspire me, or may be funny, and sometimes I just dont' know where to put people. This is why I hate boxes. Because we all fit into more than one box, right? But I hope this helps, and if nothing else, it gave me something to do.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Wee Little Mousie
Just before Christmas I found evidence of a mouse in my kitchen cabinets.
We have cats and a dog, so I was a little surprised. I cleaned up, washing everything in the drawers, wiping down the shelves and the insides. I called a halt to composting until spring. I started packing food more tightly, even though there was no evidence of mice in the places I actually keep food. Only utensils. I think it's because the mice live in the walls, and they would have to cross the kitchen floor to get to the cabinets we keep food in. Anyway, long story short, I hoped that the mice would just, you know, go away.
But they didn't. I decided I would have to try to get rid of it myself. So I went out to buy a mousetrap.
There are many kinds of mousetraps. You can get the old-fashioned kind, like in Tom & Jerry, with the snapping wire. This will harm the mouse, but might not kill it, and then you have to dispose of a dead or a live-but-hurt mouse. Or you can get a glue trap, a big square covered with glue, which keeps the mouse glued to it, again, not killing it. Although I've heard stories about mice gnawing off limbs to escape. And then you have to dispose of a trapped live mouse who is going to die, or dispose of gnawed off limbs.
There are also box traps. These lure mice into them and then either kill them, or leave them unharmed to be set free outside the house.
I stood in the grocery store aisle weighing all the information, taking into account gnawed off limbs, dead mice in my drawers, etc. And I made my decision,
I purchased two traps and set them up that night, one on a drawer, one in a cabinet.
The next morning, before feeding the boys, I opened the drawer. I immediately started shouting, "OH my God! There's a mouse in the drawer! There's a mouse in the drawer!"
The boys, naturally flocked over to see the mouse.
"Well, " I explained, "you can't see it because it's in that box. At least I think it's in that box. Maybe the door shut all on it's own last night. Or maybe there's a mouse in there. Nate, pick up the trap and tell me if it's heavy and there's a mouse in there. No, don't shake it!"
"Is it dead?"
"I don't think so. It's supposed to be alive, and I have to set it free. We have to take it away from the house. Maybe we could drive...."
But we couldn't drive anywhere, because this was the morning of the big snowstorm, and there was a foot of snow in our driveway. Nor could I just let the mouse out at our doorstep, because it would just run back inside.
"I need to take the mouse to the bushes up near the street," I said.
"Can we come?"
"No."
I put on my tall yellow rain boots and my long winter coat over my pajamas. Then I realized the mousetrap was still on the counter, and my boots were leaving clumps of dirt on the floor.
"Andy, can you bring me that trap?"
Andy reached up and picked it up, but let it fall sideways. "Carry it straight, Honey, OK? There's a mouse in there."
Andy suddenly screamed, startled (maybe the mouse moved?), dropped the trap on the floor, and ran away, shouting and flapping his little arms. Nathan screamed "a mouse! a mouse!" and ran away from the trap, but the opposite way around the kitchen island from Andy, so that they both met halfway around and stood there, shouting and dancing on their toes. I stomped across the kitchen in my big yellow boots and winter getup to see the trap lying on the floor on the far side of the kitchen island. The door was still closed.
"Did the mouse run away?" I asked.
"No. We didn't SEE the mouse..."
I picked up the trap, very carefully. It seemed heavier than I remembered.
"Watch me from the window, OK?" I said. And I headed outside.
This is a good time to mention that Steve was away on a business trip. Or else he would have been appointed mouse-disposal duty.
The snow was very high at that point. I wasn't sure where to go, only that I didn't want to just dump the little thing out onto the snow, if it was, indeed, alive. Or even if it was dead. Because then I would have to stare at it's little frozen corpse, or else the boys would discover it when they came out to play and make a snowman. So I walked it over to the farthest corner of our front yard, next to some bushes. My reasoning was that, if it did indeed make it back to a house, at least it would have others to choose from instead of ours.
I turned the trap so the door faced down and opened the door. Nothing happened, and the door slipped shut. I opened it a second time and shook the trap a little. Again, nothing happened right away, and I wondered if it had just shut all on it's own after all - maybe the cat on the counter had set it off? Maybe I had just trudged through the snow with an empty plastic box? I was just about to flip the the trap and look inside it to confirm when the mouse jumped out.
It was a big fat mouse. Not huge, but a lot bigger than I had anticipated. I didn't get a great look because it ran right under the bush, and I was busy shouting and moving away as fast as I could.
And then I stomped back to the house and promptly set the trap up again. Steve said the thing will just make it's way back in, and that might be the case, but at least now I know how to get rid of it. And the next time I can drive it somewhere else. Like down the street.
We have cats and a dog, so I was a little surprised. I cleaned up, washing everything in the drawers, wiping down the shelves and the insides. I called a halt to composting until spring. I started packing food more tightly, even though there was no evidence of mice in the places I actually keep food. Only utensils. I think it's because the mice live in the walls, and they would have to cross the kitchen floor to get to the cabinets we keep food in. Anyway, long story short, I hoped that the mice would just, you know, go away.
But they didn't. I decided I would have to try to get rid of it myself. So I went out to buy a mousetrap.
There are many kinds of mousetraps. You can get the old-fashioned kind, like in Tom & Jerry, with the snapping wire. This will harm the mouse, but might not kill it, and then you have to dispose of a dead or a live-but-hurt mouse. Or you can get a glue trap, a big square covered with glue, which keeps the mouse glued to it, again, not killing it. Although I've heard stories about mice gnawing off limbs to escape. And then you have to dispose of a trapped live mouse who is going to die, or dispose of gnawed off limbs.
There are also box traps. These lure mice into them and then either kill them, or leave them unharmed to be set free outside the house.
I stood in the grocery store aisle weighing all the information, taking into account gnawed off limbs, dead mice in my drawers, etc. And I made my decision,
I purchased two traps and set them up that night, one on a drawer, one in a cabinet.
The next morning, before feeding the boys, I opened the drawer. I immediately started shouting, "OH my God! There's a mouse in the drawer! There's a mouse in the drawer!"
The boys, naturally flocked over to see the mouse.
"Well, " I explained, "you can't see it because it's in that box. At least I think it's in that box. Maybe the door shut all on it's own last night. Or maybe there's a mouse in there. Nate, pick up the trap and tell me if it's heavy and there's a mouse in there. No, don't shake it!"
"Is it dead?"
"I don't think so. It's supposed to be alive, and I have to set it free. We have to take it away from the house. Maybe we could drive...."
But we couldn't drive anywhere, because this was the morning of the big snowstorm, and there was a foot of snow in our driveway. Nor could I just let the mouse out at our doorstep, because it would just run back inside.
"I need to take the mouse to the bushes up near the street," I said.
"Can we come?"
"No."
I put on my tall yellow rain boots and my long winter coat over my pajamas. Then I realized the mousetrap was still on the counter, and my boots were leaving clumps of dirt on the floor.
"Andy, can you bring me that trap?"
Andy reached up and picked it up, but let it fall sideways. "Carry it straight, Honey, OK? There's a mouse in there."
Andy suddenly screamed, startled (maybe the mouse moved?), dropped the trap on the floor, and ran away, shouting and flapping his little arms. Nathan screamed "a mouse! a mouse!" and ran away from the trap, but the opposite way around the kitchen island from Andy, so that they both met halfway around and stood there, shouting and dancing on their toes. I stomped across the kitchen in my big yellow boots and winter getup to see the trap lying on the floor on the far side of the kitchen island. The door was still closed.
"Did the mouse run away?" I asked.
"No. We didn't SEE the mouse..."
I picked up the trap, very carefully. It seemed heavier than I remembered.
"Watch me from the window, OK?" I said. And I headed outside.
This is a good time to mention that Steve was away on a business trip. Or else he would have been appointed mouse-disposal duty.
The snow was very high at that point. I wasn't sure where to go, only that I didn't want to just dump the little thing out onto the snow, if it was, indeed, alive. Or even if it was dead. Because then I would have to stare at it's little frozen corpse, or else the boys would discover it when they came out to play and make a snowman. So I walked it over to the farthest corner of our front yard, next to some bushes. My reasoning was that, if it did indeed make it back to a house, at least it would have others to choose from instead of ours.
I turned the trap so the door faced down and opened the door. Nothing happened, and the door slipped shut. I opened it a second time and shook the trap a little. Again, nothing happened right away, and I wondered if it had just shut all on it's own after all - maybe the cat on the counter had set it off? Maybe I had just trudged through the snow with an empty plastic box? I was just about to flip the the trap and look inside it to confirm when the mouse jumped out.
It was a big fat mouse. Not huge, but a lot bigger than I had anticipated. I didn't get a great look because it ran right under the bush, and I was busy shouting and moving away as fast as I could.
And then I stomped back to the house and promptly set the trap up again. Steve said the thing will just make it's way back in, and that might be the case, but at least now I know how to get rid of it. And the next time I can drive it somewhere else. Like down the street.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
A Chair is Still A Chair...
...even when it's covered in snow.
These were taken just before noon on Wednesday.
These were taken just before noon on Wednesday.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
SNOW
We are having a snowstorm.
I's the biggest one so far this season. The one we got after Christmas was a few inches, but nothing as serious for us as it was for New York or D.C.
And the last time they predicted a snowstorm we got all of half an inch. One. Half. Inch.
Right now there is a foot of snow outside my door. All activities have been cancelled. All schools closed. My only worry now is how to clear the snow out of my driveway once it stops (ask neighbor with snowplow) and letting the boys watch too much TV once they get too cold and wet.
Right now, before I start to hate it for being cold and wet and keeping me indoors, I have to say the snow is beautiful. Really. As long as it's viewed through a window.
I's the biggest one so far this season. The one we got after Christmas was a few inches, but nothing as serious for us as it was for New York or D.C.
And the last time they predicted a snowstorm we got all of half an inch. One. Half. Inch.
Right now there is a foot of snow outside my door. All activities have been cancelled. All schools closed. My only worry now is how to clear the snow out of my driveway once it stops (ask neighbor with snowplow) and letting the boys watch too much TV once they get too cold and wet.
Right now, before I start to hate it for being cold and wet and keeping me indoors, I have to say the snow is beautiful. Really. As long as it's viewed through a window.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Dalai Lama
I watched a documentary about the Dalai Lama yesterday.
In this documentary, he said something about it being better to be poor. I can't remember the exact quote, but it was along the lines of people who are wealthy worrying about losing their weath. As soon as a person has something, they try for a little bit more. They want a little bit extra, they worry about losing their money, or their house, or their car... But poor people, people who are poor and have nothing beyond the most basic necessities, do not have these worries. They are glad for what they have, and don't worry about losing anything.
Now, I'm not so sure about this. It made sense when I heard it, but now, thinking about it, I wonder about bitterness setting in. I mean for the poor people. Or maybe His Holiness was speaking about people who are so poor they do not own a TV?
In any case, I bring this up because of the first part. The part about our worries being connected to wealth and material things.
See, I tend to yell a lot. I don't mean to, I keep promising myself that I'm going to calm down, to speak softly but firmly, whatever... but I always end up screaming my head off, steam pouring out my ears.
And it occurred to me this morning that I mostly yelled about material things. Toys, mostly. All over the floor. Broken. Stepped on. Boys play with toys instead of dressing in the morning. They bring them to the table and spill their milk. They leave their bathrobes - something I consider a luxury for a 6-year-old - on the floor. They argue over who gets to give the pets a treat.
I worry about taking my car in to get serviced. I worry about driving it in the snow. Steve worries about his boat during storms.
Seriously - I worry that we won't find the flights we need to go on vacation. I worry about what to bring on those vacations. I worry about finding food my family will eat on vacations.
I worry about throwing away too much food.
I guess there is something to be said about removing clutter from one's life.
In this documentary, he said something about it being better to be poor. I can't remember the exact quote, but it was along the lines of people who are wealthy worrying about losing their weath. As soon as a person has something, they try for a little bit more. They want a little bit extra, they worry about losing their money, or their house, or their car... But poor people, people who are poor and have nothing beyond the most basic necessities, do not have these worries. They are glad for what they have, and don't worry about losing anything.
Now, I'm not so sure about this. It made sense when I heard it, but now, thinking about it, I wonder about bitterness setting in. I mean for the poor people. Or maybe His Holiness was speaking about people who are so poor they do not own a TV?
In any case, I bring this up because of the first part. The part about our worries being connected to wealth and material things.
See, I tend to yell a lot. I don't mean to, I keep promising myself that I'm going to calm down, to speak softly but firmly, whatever... but I always end up screaming my head off, steam pouring out my ears.
And it occurred to me this morning that I mostly yelled about material things. Toys, mostly. All over the floor. Broken. Stepped on. Boys play with toys instead of dressing in the morning. They bring them to the table and spill their milk. They leave their bathrobes - something I consider a luxury for a 6-year-old - on the floor. They argue over who gets to give the pets a treat.
I worry about taking my car in to get serviced. I worry about driving it in the snow. Steve worries about his boat during storms.
Seriously - I worry that we won't find the flights we need to go on vacation. I worry about what to bring on those vacations. I worry about finding food my family will eat on vacations.
I worry about throwing away too much food.
I guess there is something to be said about removing clutter from one's life.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Sunday, January 09, 2011
Saturday, January 08, 2011
We Are Family
My cousin Charlotte came for a short visit the other night. It's been years since we've seen each other. She had never met Nate or Andy. It was just so good to see her again!
Friday, January 07, 2011
Tea for Me
I found this tea...
It's a Republic of Tea tea. Herbal. They have a line of "Get Some" teas. Actually, the formal name would be "Be Well Red Teas," but the teas are named "Get Clean" or "Get Gorgeous" or "Get Wellness." I happened to purchase a tin of "Get Some ZZZ's" back before Christmas, when I was having trouble sleeping through the night.
I love this tea.
It's not how it tastes, even though I really like it. It's not so bitter and I can drink it with the bag still in it and no sweetener. But no, what's great about this tea is the dreams.
See, I don't get knocked out like with a medication, like Advil PM or some cold meds. I get a little sleepy, but it just feels like I'm sleepy.
Once I'm asleep, though, my dreams get loopy. They have this busy quality, like a lot is happening in them, and I get really caught up in what's going on in them. It could just be me, but I love dreams, especially good ones. And these are good ones.
At some point I realize the effect is going to wear off, but I'm enjoying it while I can. Also, you should try some of these teas. This one worked for me, so maybe the others work, too? You can check them out here.
It's a Republic of Tea tea. Herbal. They have a line of "Get Some" teas. Actually, the formal name would be "Be Well Red Teas," but the teas are named "Get Clean" or "Get Gorgeous" or "Get Wellness." I happened to purchase a tin of "Get Some ZZZ's" back before Christmas, when I was having trouble sleeping through the night.
I love this tea.
It's not how it tastes, even though I really like it. It's not so bitter and I can drink it with the bag still in it and no sweetener. But no, what's great about this tea is the dreams.
See, I don't get knocked out like with a medication, like Advil PM or some cold meds. I get a little sleepy, but it just feels like I'm sleepy.
Once I'm asleep, though, my dreams get loopy. They have this busy quality, like a lot is happening in them, and I get really caught up in what's going on in them. It could just be me, but I love dreams, especially good ones. And these are good ones.
At some point I realize the effect is going to wear off, but I'm enjoying it while I can. Also, you should try some of these teas. This one worked for me, so maybe the others work, too? You can check them out here.
Thursday, January 06, 2011
Get Around To It
I wanted to start working out again in earnest. But I can't seem to find the time. I'm taking the cat to the vet and driving the kids to and from school or the library or piano or gym. I can't even find time to take down the Christmas decorations.
I could do it if it weren't for the shower. I mean, I can find the time to run, I really could, but then I'd have to jump in the car and spend the rest of the day smelling like a locker room. Ewww. And there's no shortening the run. I mean, seriously, who runs for five minutes? Is it even worth putting on sneakers?
Well... maybe...
I could do it if it weren't for the shower. I mean, I can find the time to run, I really could, but then I'd have to jump in the car and spend the rest of the day smelling like a locker room. Ewww. And there's no shortening the run. I mean, seriously, who runs for five minutes? Is it even worth putting on sneakers?
Well... maybe...
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
Hoarding
Yesterday Nick walked into the bedroom, where I was sorting laundry. "Mom," he said, "Can you sew my socks?" And he showed me the bottoms of his feet. The holes in his heels were as big as... well, his heels. He could have kept pulling and worn them as legwarmers.
"Nick, those socks are done," I said. "Throw them away when you take them off later."
Nick began to cry. "But I LOVE these socks! These are my FAVORITE socks!"
It doesn't matter that the socks are cheap Target socks. It doesn't matter that I tell him I will buy him more. It just matters that I'm Throwing Something Away!
Nick used to have the job of emptying the smaller trash cans from around the house. I took that job away from him, though, because half of the things I threw away ended up on Nick's nightstand. Once, I found an empty Listerine bottle there. Why is this special? So special he can't part with it?
That same afternoon I was doing parent stuff in his school classroom and found six empty yogurt squeeze tubes. He said he was keeping them for the jokes printed on the sides...
Should I worry?
"Nick, those socks are done," I said. "Throw them away when you take them off later."
Nick began to cry. "But I LOVE these socks! These are my FAVORITE socks!"
It doesn't matter that the socks are cheap Target socks. It doesn't matter that I tell him I will buy him more. It just matters that I'm Throwing Something Away!
Nick used to have the job of emptying the smaller trash cans from around the house. I took that job away from him, though, because half of the things I threw away ended up on Nick's nightstand. Once, I found an empty Listerine bottle there. Why is this special? So special he can't part with it?
That same afternoon I was doing parent stuff in his school classroom and found six empty yogurt squeeze tubes. He said he was keeping them for the jokes printed on the sides...
Should I worry?
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
No Doctor
This photo, one I took New Year's Eve, captures the beautiful table we ate at. It doesn't show the food, but it hints at the asparagus fettuccine, the carmelized pears in prosciutto, lobster ravioli... I have to stop because thinking about it is driving me nuts. Anyway, this photo hints at that, at at the wonderful company kept.And it has nothing at all to do with what I wanted to post about today.
We did not see a doctor. I took temperatures this morning, and since everyone was normal and no one complained of sore throats or headaches or tummy troubles, I sent everyone to school. Then I volunteered at the school myself, picked up the younger two, made them lunch, registered Nate for kindergarten, put Andy down for a nap, rushed off to buy groceries, quickly cleaned out the fridge, gave the boys a snack, wrapped a birthday present, folded a load of laundry, took Andrew to an evening birthday party at a bounce house, drove him home, did the dishes, gave the boys a bath, read them stories, put them to bed, folded another load of laundry, and then inflated a super wonderful purple yoga ball.
Just another day in the life of Fleen. Back to normal.
Tomorrow I'm going to work out and make it to the party store, the book store, take the boys to gymnastics class, Nick to karate - oh! I have to sew on his patch! - and clean out the litter box. And start taking down these Christmas decorations. And call Lillian because I will need her help in a big way when Steve's job enters travel mode.
Sunday, January 02, 2011
Brand New Year
I like the idea of starting off with a clean slate. Getting back into our routine should be seamless.
Unfortunately, it looks like we partied ourselves sick in New York. No, we aren't hung over. We're tired, we have sore throats, headaches, and a couple of us have low fevers. And also, looking at Andy's throat with a flashlight was a little like a B science fiction movie.
So we may begin the New Year with a small visit to the pediatrician. We've missed her, anyway.
But if all else goes well, I will post only interesting, engaging, thought provoking material every day from this point forward. Really. I promise. Sort of.
Unfortunately, it looks like we partied ourselves sick in New York. No, we aren't hung over. We're tired, we have sore throats, headaches, and a couple of us have low fevers. And also, looking at Andy's throat with a flashlight was a little like a B science fiction movie.
So we may begin the New Year with a small visit to the pediatrician. We've missed her, anyway.
But if all else goes well, I will post only interesting, engaging, thought provoking material every day from this point forward. Really. I promise. Sort of.
Saturday, January 01, 2011
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