The other day while skiing with AB, we were sitting on the ski lift (because our children were in ski school – yay ski school!) and he commented that all his ski gear was getting old. We had purchased nearly it all in Reno, which was 9 years ago. I looked at my stuff and felt a fondness.
There have been lots of articles out there lately about how purchases are not satisfying, they don’t fill ones soul, basically. I think in the down economy it is an attempt to make people feel better about not having the cash-oh-la to go out and buy buy buy. There is a lot of talk out there about reusing and what a wasteful society we have become. Disposable is bad.
I like shopping. I like stuff. I admit it.
My family likes stuff. My grandmother REALLY liked stuff. This last summer we cleaned (I use the term “we” loosely here) out her house as she went into an Alzheimer’s care facility. As a kid I thought she had loads of treasures. Turns out? She bought the cheapest stuff she could find. I found a little crystal tea service set that I loved – I don’t remember seeing it as a kid – it was stashed away in a secret spot. Very retro and fun looking, but missing a cup. I went to replacements.com and was a bit disappointed to find out I could only order the entire set, not just the missing cup. But then again, the entire set was $14. (And yes, I do still love it.)
This is the type of stuff my grandmother had. Depression era mindset, never spend money on luxuries for yourself, save everything. My mom, a few years ago, went to my grandmother’s house to help her clean stuff out and found an entire cabinet full of all the lotions and soaps she had ever given her for Mother’s Days, Christmas, her birthday.
“Why haven’t you used these?” my mom asked picking up the dusty, cruddy old bottles.
“I am saving them,” was her reply.
“For what?” my mom asked.
“To use,” she replied.
And I expect my mom rolled her eyes and left the conversation there. No one ever won arguments with my grandmother.
Lately I have been looking through my stuff with a bit of a critical eye given the articles and general opinion out there about buying new stuff, as well as combined with my recent experiences “helping” clean out my grandmother’s and my mom’s belongings.
My purchasing habits have changed over the last few years. I do still find joy in my older purchases though – the common consensus out there that purchases won’t fill your soul is a bit flawed I think.
My ski bibs and my ski gloves are two of these things. I truly believe that these two items will last my lifetime. High quality, good fitting and timeless items. Clarification, they will last my lifetime at my current level of commitment to skiing and cold weather activities, which is that I am a fair weather skier living in a warm-ish climate that is 2 hours 45 minutes drive to ski.
I bought my grandmother a good set of stacking stainless steel mixing bowls just like mine after she visited my house and commented a few times, “I wish I had a good set of bowls”. I love my stainless steel nesting bowls. They will be with me for life.
My kitchen items – I have a ton of kitchen stuff. But instead of replacing my $4.99 Woolworth special hand mixer that my grandmother bought for me with another of its type, I plan to get a Kitchen Aid hand mixer (in cocoa silver, in case you were wondering) and never ever have to replace it again.
This blog topic has been floating around in my head for a few weeks. And as I have walked around my house I have made mental note of the things I have purchased that will last a lifetime. What do I believe I have bought or been given that I will never have to replace?
And it isn’t always the most expensive things.
My ski bibs, for example. I think I bought them for $28 on clearance at Sierra Trading Post in Reno. But they ARE fabulous.
A few shirts/sweaters I have may go the distance. I have a few of those chunky wool sweaters that were so in style in Boulder in the 90’s. I love those still (shhh, don’t tell) and I expect they will go the distance if only because I don’t wear them currently – I would roast and well my colleagues might mistake me for a hippy. But a weekend in the mountains? Yes sir!
My hutch. Yes. My shelves that AB built me exactly 8 years ago. Yes. NOT the crappy dressers from Furniture Row. (I need to work on the furniture aspect of this mindset in my house.)
My All Clad griddle, my Le Creuset pieces (have I sung enough praises lately about my Dutch Oven and Skillet?), my Kitchen Aid Professional mixer has made it 10 years with no sign of decline.
My beautiful, lovely purse will last – especially if I continue to stop by the retailer I bought it from to swoon at other purses and random sales people continue to clean it and massage it with lotion for me.
Years ago as a shopper I sought quantity. I need to outfit a kitchen, what do I need? I want a new work wardrobe, what should I buy?
Now as a shopper, I seek quality. I don’t always want to pay the prices for quality, I am a danged good sale shopper. Retailmenot.com is my best friend in online shopping.
I wonder if it seems morbid to ponder if something will last my lifetime? But I plan on living a long, long time.
Age 108 here I come with my Le Creuset and Coach purse!
Showing posts with label Family members. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family members. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Two lifetimes of stuff
Part of our trip to Colorado has included plans to clean out / organize / distribute the stuff that accumulates after a lifetime. My grandmother has gone into an assisted living facility in Denver, which means that her home in Casper needs to be cleaned out and sold. My mom passed away just over two months ago and her stuff needs to be sorted through as well.
The very obvious aspect of this to the family involved is that these are two different worlds. If you have ever been in my grandmother's house, you would never forget it. My grandmother is from the Depression era. This means that she does not easily get rid of anything, ever. Her house is stacked deep. My grandmother doesn't really clean, so the house is grimy as well.
As a child I spent many years at my grandmother's house. We used to explore her basement and find all sorts of treasures. We would play hide and seek, we would draw on the little chalkboard, we would play dress up in the stacks of clothes. We would play on the ancient electric piano and we would stay away from the very scary dolls in the corner. I looked at the basement this time around happy that my children weren't with me. Danger was everywhere!
My mother was the opposite of my grandmother and she always claimed this was my grandmother's fault and I believe her. She didn't save things. My mom is a clean freak who spent every Saturday morning cleaning the house from top to bottom regardless of whether it needed it or not. My mom's house is cleaner than I can ever hope that my house would be... and I pay for a weekly housecleaner.
When you walk through my mom's basement storage there are no sheets hanging from the ceiling to create rooms, instead, they have clear plastic bins with neatly typed labels describing the contents. As a kid I was often irritated with my mom for getting rid of things. Yes, I admit it, I have packrat tendencies. As an adult - and especially after going through my grandmother's belongings - I can appreciate more my mom's tendency to rid her home of clutter.
During our days of cleaning out the houses of mother and daughter we have discovered a few more similarities than we ever anticipated. Both my mom and grandmother have an affinity for beauty products, lots of different beauty products. In my grandmother's case it is beauty products from the last 20 years that she has received as gifts and has all this time "saved for a special occasion" - eventually never to be used. My mom bought really great stuff and wonderful smelling soaps.
My mom, like me, couldn't ever get rid of a book. I inherited my love for books from her. A love for a fresh, brand new, clean, creaseless book. And despite reading it and maybe not even liking it? Getting rid of a book is just not something either of us does with ease.
All of us? Huge fans of photos. None of us have ever thrown away a photo, no matter how out of focus.
We have all moved away from Casper, Wyoming. So cleaning out my grandmother's house had to be a quick activity. We squished it in to a few days where the three remaining brothers and myself and my cousin went up and grabbed items we "needed". By the time I got there, many of the items were gone. But I spent a few hours picking through items. I got the crystal bowl that I admired as a child and that I was told I would someday get. My cousin took the matching cake pedestal. My grandmother had set aside a number of things with our names on them, she labeled special things as to who they had belonged to or which family member had made what. She put non-sticky paper tags in photo covers that said who each person in the picture was. For as grimy and stuffed to the gills her house was, things were actually a bit organized. I will never forget the box I pulled out that was labeled, "Travel memories, throw away when I am gone".
It was sad to see the boxes and boxes of every single school paper that my mom and her brothers had ever completed going into the dumpster. We all worried about how much money was thrown away... my grandmother was notorious for hiding money. And we all wondered if we weren't throwing away old pieces of art that were just maybe a missing Rembrandt. But time... none of us had it to put towards picking through things paper by paper.
I drove off with my mom's wedding dress, some questionable valuables, a Little Black Sambo book, an original copy of Old Yeller, a blanket and pillow that my great grandmother made, the crystal bowl I wanted, a set of Depression glass with a very funky and fun pattern, photos, my grandmother's nursing service pins, and many coins of questionable worth. I packed up a stack of my mom's and my grandmother's school papers. (Me = packrat) I also grabbed my great uncle's purple heart and am hoping I can get his address and send it to him someday. I am sure he doesn't remember that my grandmother was holding it for him for some reason.
I helped my stepdad in clearing through some of my mom's stuff. I took a few of her cookbooks that I remember as a child and that held a few of my drawings as well as some of her newer cookbooks. I took her rolling pins and her good pie pans, her sweater from Ireland, some nice outdoor wear, loads of fancy soaps, lots of Aveda products (we both have a weak spot for anything labeled Aveda) and some jewelry.
Clearing out both houses provided very different experiences. Clearing my grandmother's house was enjoyable, an adventure coupled with a little fear of reaching my hand into each box. She has had a long and good, active life with a lot of accomplishments. Helping her on to that last stage in life.
Clearing my mother's house is bittersweet as I held items in my hands that I knew my mother still had dreams of using. Things that she should still be using. Helping my stepdad move onto the next phase of his life.
The very obvious aspect of this to the family involved is that these are two different worlds. If you have ever been in my grandmother's house, you would never forget it. My grandmother is from the Depression era. This means that she does not easily get rid of anything, ever. Her house is stacked deep. My grandmother doesn't really clean, so the house is grimy as well.
As a child I spent many years at my grandmother's house. We used to explore her basement and find all sorts of treasures. We would play hide and seek, we would draw on the little chalkboard, we would play dress up in the stacks of clothes. We would play on the ancient electric piano and we would stay away from the very scary dolls in the corner. I looked at the basement this time around happy that my children weren't with me. Danger was everywhere!
My mother was the opposite of my grandmother and she always claimed this was my grandmother's fault and I believe her. She didn't save things. My mom is a clean freak who spent every Saturday morning cleaning the house from top to bottom regardless of whether it needed it or not. My mom's house is cleaner than I can ever hope that my house would be... and I pay for a weekly housecleaner.
When you walk through my mom's basement storage there are no sheets hanging from the ceiling to create rooms, instead, they have clear plastic bins with neatly typed labels describing the contents. As a kid I was often irritated with my mom for getting rid of things. Yes, I admit it, I have packrat tendencies. As an adult - and especially after going through my grandmother's belongings - I can appreciate more my mom's tendency to rid her home of clutter.
During our days of cleaning out the houses of mother and daughter we have discovered a few more similarities than we ever anticipated. Both my mom and grandmother have an affinity for beauty products, lots of different beauty products. In my grandmother's case it is beauty products from the last 20 years that she has received as gifts and has all this time "saved for a special occasion" - eventually never to be used. My mom bought really great stuff and wonderful smelling soaps.
My mom, like me, couldn't ever get rid of a book. I inherited my love for books from her. A love for a fresh, brand new, clean, creaseless book. And despite reading it and maybe not even liking it? Getting rid of a book is just not something either of us does with ease.
All of us? Huge fans of photos. None of us have ever thrown away a photo, no matter how out of focus.
We have all moved away from Casper, Wyoming. So cleaning out my grandmother's house had to be a quick activity. We squished it in to a few days where the three remaining brothers and myself and my cousin went up and grabbed items we "needed". By the time I got there, many of the items were gone. But I spent a few hours picking through items. I got the crystal bowl that I admired as a child and that I was told I would someday get. My cousin took the matching cake pedestal. My grandmother had set aside a number of things with our names on them, she labeled special things as to who they had belonged to or which family member had made what. She put non-sticky paper tags in photo covers that said who each person in the picture was. For as grimy and stuffed to the gills her house was, things were actually a bit organized. I will never forget the box I pulled out that was labeled, "Travel memories, throw away when I am gone".
It was sad to see the boxes and boxes of every single school paper that my mom and her brothers had ever completed going into the dumpster. We all worried about how much money was thrown away... my grandmother was notorious for hiding money. And we all wondered if we weren't throwing away old pieces of art that were just maybe a missing Rembrandt. But time... none of us had it to put towards picking through things paper by paper.
I drove off with my mom's wedding dress, some questionable valuables, a Little Black Sambo book, an original copy of Old Yeller, a blanket and pillow that my great grandmother made, the crystal bowl I wanted, a set of Depression glass with a very funky and fun pattern, photos, my grandmother's nursing service pins, and many coins of questionable worth. I packed up a stack of my mom's and my grandmother's school papers. (Me = packrat) I also grabbed my great uncle's purple heart and am hoping I can get his address and send it to him someday. I am sure he doesn't remember that my grandmother was holding it for him for some reason.
I helped my stepdad in clearing through some of my mom's stuff. I took a few of her cookbooks that I remember as a child and that held a few of my drawings as well as some of her newer cookbooks. I took her rolling pins and her good pie pans, her sweater from Ireland, some nice outdoor wear, loads of fancy soaps, lots of Aveda products (we both have a weak spot for anything labeled Aveda) and some jewelry.
Clearing out both houses provided very different experiences. Clearing my grandmother's house was enjoyable, an adventure coupled with a little fear of reaching my hand into each box. She has had a long and good, active life with a lot of accomplishments. Helping her on to that last stage in life.
Clearing my mother's house is bittersweet as I held items in my hands that I knew my mother still had dreams of using. Things that she should still be using. Helping my stepdad move onto the next phase of his life.
Sunday, January 03, 2010
Farewell 2009
I am no numerologist, but I like numbers. I like good numbers like 8 (my favorite) and 4 and multiples of such. Odd numbers have never been my friend. And I truly find it just perplexing that the two best things that happened to me were born not only on odd numbers, but on prime numbers. My sister loved the number 3 and so it should come as no surprise that I despised the number 3. The only thing worse than 3 is squaring it or even worse than that is raising it to it’s own power.
Given this, I expect the year 2027 to be a bad year only because 2009 really left much to be desired.
To this point in my life I can’t look back on a year in general and say, “that year just really sucked”, except for 2009. Because really, when I look back on junior high and high school and while I may not have liked them – they never held a candle to the complications of adulthood.
2009 was the year my mom faced the battle of her lifetime with an evil foe – cancer. And it wasn’t an easy cancer (like my squamous cell carcinoma on my nose that also occurred in 2009), nope my mom’s cancer is one of those nasty, rare cancers where little research has gone into it – cholangiocarcinoma or cancer of the bile duct. If you are faced someday with getting to select a cancer, don’t pick this one. It is evil. It is one of those cancers that is something like a lottery, no clear indication what causes it or why a person was selected which probably makes it harder to swallow when the unlucky recipient has been very health conscious for so much of her life. Negative cubed.
Life… ‘tis not a fair venture.
2009 was the year of my daughter’s terrible twos which was repayment for all those times I marveled that “Leif didn’t have terrible twos!” Don’t ever utter such proclamations or karma will bite hard.
2009 is the year one of our closest friends battled lymphoma, my best friend in Colorado’s dad was ill with pancreatitis for months, she was laid off her job and it seemed that everyone around us was affected by illness or hardship in some way.
2009 was also the best year in my and AB’s respective careers.
2009 brought us a new home and all the joy and frustrations that accompany that venture. The whole moving thing… all the boxes… wondering if boxes will eventually unpack themselves… wondering if the trash can may be the best place for all the boxes… selling the house we brought our babies home to… learning how to navigate stairs… sweaty or frozen nights trying to figure out how to heat a two story home comfortably… and a whole new “To Do Someday” list. Despite all the frustrations with the moving process it is still far better than the cramped, too small, ineffective house we moved from.
2009 was the last full year before Leif will enter “real school” aka kindergarten, thanks to the decision we made to give him another year to mature. 2009 also brought mostly all kudos from people who agreed with this decision but was not void of criticisms from those people completely unaffected by this decision who felt the need to tell us what is best for our child and on occasion still take that opportunity to nip at it. But that’s part of parenting – listening to the people around you who you love and respect and then coming to the conclusion that is right for your family and moving on without regret. (Even if that regret is in not socking someone in the face for their comments…)
2009 brought a year of little sleep coupled with lots of middle of the night hugs and loves from a tiny little red headed girl.
2009 was my 50% year with yeast based breads. One failure for Easter and one success at Thanksgiving.
2009 was a year of reconnecting on Facebook and sudden realizations of why certain friendships were dropped so long ago. As well as some ponderings of why I would have let some friendships drop off because they are truly one of a kind. And can’t forget those paralyzing moments of seeing ex’s faces on my Suggested Friends lists… then a little bit of curiosity that comes up and forces you to click on them and “just see” how miserable they have to still be. Followed by the reality that they look darn happy. But mostly it was a year of wow – everyone I knew in high school, for the most part, really rocked it and are doing superbly as well.
2009 was the year I found out the boy I had a major crush on in junior high, died at age 37.
2009 was the year I became a touch obnoxious (or obsessive) with my iPhone.
2009 was the year of the Wii and AB’s and my first foray into trying to figure out how much is too much for a 5 year old.
2009 was the year of wondering if we will EVER see another good movie? Star Trek saved us from just assigning a big, huge NO as the answer to that question.
2009 was a most frustrating year with my 86 year old grandmother who should not be driving, nor living at home by herself. It has required patience and a sense of humor approaching her repetitive statements, her stubbornness, her paranoia, and reconciling them with her lucid moments. It is hard to understand how a person can believe that those people who surround her and love her the most, would be identified as so horrible in her mind.
2009 brought a decent sushi restaurant to the area (blocks from our home) and not only that, but it has become my kids’ favorite place to eat. Umm yay! Want a guarantee that my kids will eat and enjoy the food? Then let’s go for Japanese. 2009 – Leif loves miso soup.
2009 was the year my son first questioned whether Santa was real or not… but has not yet asked where babies come from. Phew.
2009 brought weeks… maybe months… of debate over vehicles and many declarations about “not buying new” and trying to reconcile our need for a large towing vehicle with the current “go green” mentality. When we got over it all, 2009 brought us a shiny new 2010 Toyota Sequoia along with a hefty car payment that is painful after years of no car payments.
2009 introduced us to a new church that felt amazingly like home.
As I type this out I look at all the good. All the blessings. All the love. All of these things that goes along with the sadness. The despair. The knowledge that I cannot move mountains.
But I can hope and pray and look towards a bright 2010. Because that is what we do, we persevere. We lift up and move forward. We do what we can full of love.
Given this, I expect the year 2027 to be a bad year only because 2009 really left much to be desired.
To this point in my life I can’t look back on a year in general and say, “that year just really sucked”, except for 2009. Because really, when I look back on junior high and high school and while I may not have liked them – they never held a candle to the complications of adulthood.
2009 was the year my mom faced the battle of her lifetime with an evil foe – cancer. And it wasn’t an easy cancer (like my squamous cell carcinoma on my nose that also occurred in 2009), nope my mom’s cancer is one of those nasty, rare cancers where little research has gone into it – cholangiocarcinoma or cancer of the bile duct. If you are faced someday with getting to select a cancer, don’t pick this one. It is evil. It is one of those cancers that is something like a lottery, no clear indication what causes it or why a person was selected which probably makes it harder to swallow when the unlucky recipient has been very health conscious for so much of her life. Negative cubed.
Life… ‘tis not a fair venture.
2009 was the year of my daughter’s terrible twos which was repayment for all those times I marveled that “Leif didn’t have terrible twos!” Don’t ever utter such proclamations or karma will bite hard.
2009 is the year one of our closest friends battled lymphoma, my best friend in Colorado’s dad was ill with pancreatitis for months, she was laid off her job and it seemed that everyone around us was affected by illness or hardship in some way.
2009 was also the best year in my and AB’s respective careers.
2009 brought us a new home and all the joy and frustrations that accompany that venture. The whole moving thing… all the boxes… wondering if boxes will eventually unpack themselves… wondering if the trash can may be the best place for all the boxes… selling the house we brought our babies home to… learning how to navigate stairs… sweaty or frozen nights trying to figure out how to heat a two story home comfortably… and a whole new “To Do Someday” list. Despite all the frustrations with the moving process it is still far better than the cramped, too small, ineffective house we moved from.
2009 was the last full year before Leif will enter “real school” aka kindergarten, thanks to the decision we made to give him another year to mature. 2009 also brought mostly all kudos from people who agreed with this decision but was not void of criticisms from those people completely unaffected by this decision who felt the need to tell us what is best for our child and on occasion still take that opportunity to nip at it. But that’s part of parenting – listening to the people around you who you love and respect and then coming to the conclusion that is right for your family and moving on without regret. (Even if that regret is in not socking someone in the face for their comments…)
2009 brought a year of little sleep coupled with lots of middle of the night hugs and loves from a tiny little red headed girl.
2009 was my 50% year with yeast based breads. One failure for Easter and one success at Thanksgiving.
2009 was a year of reconnecting on Facebook and sudden realizations of why certain friendships were dropped so long ago. As well as some ponderings of why I would have let some friendships drop off because they are truly one of a kind. And can’t forget those paralyzing moments of seeing ex’s faces on my Suggested Friends lists… then a little bit of curiosity that comes up and forces you to click on them and “just see” how miserable they have to still be. Followed by the reality that they look darn happy. But mostly it was a year of wow – everyone I knew in high school, for the most part, really rocked it and are doing superbly as well.
2009 was the year I found out the boy I had a major crush on in junior high, died at age 37.
2009 was the year I became a touch obnoxious (or obsessive) with my iPhone.
2009 was the year of the Wii and AB’s and my first foray into trying to figure out how much is too much for a 5 year old.
2009 was the year of wondering if we will EVER see another good movie? Star Trek saved us from just assigning a big, huge NO as the answer to that question.
2009 was a most frustrating year with my 86 year old grandmother who should not be driving, nor living at home by herself. It has required patience and a sense of humor approaching her repetitive statements, her stubbornness, her paranoia, and reconciling them with her lucid moments. It is hard to understand how a person can believe that those people who surround her and love her the most, would be identified as so horrible in her mind.
2009 brought a decent sushi restaurant to the area (blocks from our home) and not only that, but it has become my kids’ favorite place to eat. Umm yay! Want a guarantee that my kids will eat and enjoy the food? Then let’s go for Japanese. 2009 – Leif loves miso soup.
2009 was the year my son first questioned whether Santa was real or not… but has not yet asked where babies come from. Phew.
2009 brought weeks… maybe months… of debate over vehicles and many declarations about “not buying new” and trying to reconcile our need for a large towing vehicle with the current “go green” mentality. When we got over it all, 2009 brought us a shiny new 2010 Toyota Sequoia along with a hefty car payment that is painful after years of no car payments.
2009 introduced us to a new church that felt amazingly like home.
As I type this out I look at all the good. All the blessings. All the love. All of these things that goes along with the sadness. The despair. The knowledge that I cannot move mountains.
But I can hope and pray and look towards a bright 2010. Because that is what we do, we persevere. We lift up and move forward. We do what we can full of love.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
4th of July Celebration
Leif, Cousin Hugh and Skadi on AB.
Sparklers are cool!
Getting ready for dusk and the big fireworks!
Skadi and Cousin Hazel
A trip to the cabin
We all have been looking forward to a trip to the cabin over on Hammersly Inlet - the south end of Puget Sound - for much of the winter. We had hoped to go to the cabin earlier, but didn't dare leave our house that we are listing FSBO. Well we finally got a lockbox and an MLS number and left for the 4th of July weekend to meet AB's dad and girlfriend and the rest of the clan (huge clan) over at the family compound. I have never liked it to be called a "compound" and I kind of cringe when I mention it that way, because it reminds me of Waco... but it's not. It's just a series of 5 cabins on one lot owned by a large Norwegian family.
Oh and just for the record, wouldn't you know that within 8 hours of leaving our house, we got an offer on the other house? We so should have gone in May when we were kicking the notion around.
Anyways, back to the 4th. We decided to drive over on a Wednesday. We arrived about 5pm and made a quick stop at the grocery store for some groceries and then we headed to the cabin - about 30 minutes outside of town.
We had the cabin to ourselves for the first two nights, which was great. Then Friday and Saturday we shared with family. And Sunday it was ours again.
Of course this also meant we got the vast majority of the clean up.
Once down at the cabin we discovered within hours that Hans' second cousin was flying in from Cambridge where her husband is a post-doc. For a few years we had somewhat half heartedly tried to visit at the same time as her if only because we have children the same ages and genders. Truth be told I hadn't gotten along with her before this point and so we never pushed it too hard.
This is one of those weekends that goes to show that first impressions aren't always right. Or that people mellow after having kids.
Because seeing the cousins latch onto each other softened us both into piles of mushiness.
So many of the kids at the cabin are older - teenagers, a few tweens and a bunch of early 20's-ish kids. There are very few little kids.
Leif and his cousin Hugh spent the vast majority of the weekend together. Hazel and Skadi eyed each other and fought over toys. They ran races and gave hugs too. They will be friends. I envision cousins that will unite every year at the cabin for lots of fun.
And what was surprising and refreshing was to find out that their mom - wasn't the wacky out there mom I was expecting. We actually agree on a lot of things. Once we confirmed the kids didn't have any life threatening allergies the kids ate at each other's cabin (whichever they happened to be at when meals were served). Naptimes someone usually took the boys out to play so the girls could sleep. And we all bent the rules on the night of the 4th and didn't blink an eye (probably breathed a sigh of relief) when the other admitted that we were abandoning bedtime rules "just this once".
We and the kids had such a great time that we have actually kicked around trying to make it back to the cabin before they head back to Cambridge in August. It may work. But it probably won't. But we WILL be planning our visit for next summer to coincide with theirs.
The highlights:
-The little cousins.
-Digging clams.
-Playing with the very active Geoducks on the beach.
-Beachcombing - I love beachcombing.
-Seeing the neighborhood harbor seals up close on the dock.
-The fireworks.
-The 4th of July meal on the beach with the extended family.
-Hanging out with my FIL and getting to know his girlfriend.
Oh and the offer on the house. It was a low ball offer - frighteningly low ball. But we have countered and are waiting for their response.
Pictures next.
Oh and just for the record, wouldn't you know that within 8 hours of leaving our house, we got an offer on the other house? We so should have gone in May when we were kicking the notion around.
Anyways, back to the 4th. We decided to drive over on a Wednesday. We arrived about 5pm and made a quick stop at the grocery store for some groceries and then we headed to the cabin - about 30 minutes outside of town.
We had the cabin to ourselves for the first two nights, which was great. Then Friday and Saturday we shared with family. And Sunday it was ours again.
Of course this also meant we got the vast majority of the clean up.
Once down at the cabin we discovered within hours that Hans' second cousin was flying in from Cambridge where her husband is a post-doc. For a few years we had somewhat half heartedly tried to visit at the same time as her if only because we have children the same ages and genders. Truth be told I hadn't gotten along with her before this point and so we never pushed it too hard.
This is one of those weekends that goes to show that first impressions aren't always right. Or that people mellow after having kids.
Because seeing the cousins latch onto each other softened us both into piles of mushiness.
So many of the kids at the cabin are older - teenagers, a few tweens and a bunch of early 20's-ish kids. There are very few little kids.
Leif and his cousin Hugh spent the vast majority of the weekend together. Hazel and Skadi eyed each other and fought over toys. They ran races and gave hugs too. They will be friends. I envision cousins that will unite every year at the cabin for lots of fun.
And what was surprising and refreshing was to find out that their mom - wasn't the wacky out there mom I was expecting. We actually agree on a lot of things. Once we confirmed the kids didn't have any life threatening allergies the kids ate at each other's cabin (whichever they happened to be at when meals were served). Naptimes someone usually took the boys out to play so the girls could sleep. And we all bent the rules on the night of the 4th and didn't blink an eye (probably breathed a sigh of relief) when the other admitted that we were abandoning bedtime rules "just this once".
We and the kids had such a great time that we have actually kicked around trying to make it back to the cabin before they head back to Cambridge in August. It may work. But it probably won't. But we WILL be planning our visit for next summer to coincide with theirs.
The highlights:
-The little cousins.
-Digging clams.
-Playing with the very active Geoducks on the beach.
-Beachcombing - I love beachcombing.
-Seeing the neighborhood harbor seals up close on the dock.
-The fireworks.
-The 4th of July meal on the beach with the extended family.
-Hanging out with my FIL and getting to know his girlfriend.
Oh and the offer on the house. It was a low ball offer - frighteningly low ball. But we have countered and are waiting for their response.
Pictures next.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
My daughter… the button pusher
Skadi is more and more starting to remind me of one person in my life… my sister. I have been trying to figure out if this is simply because as an older sibling, the fact that she is a younger sibling lumps her in that category. Two aspects of her personality I think she has inherited from my sister... the first is her ability to push buttons, the mental buttons. And the second is her fashion sense.
We’ll tackle the second one first. It’s easier. When my sister was a little girl she would pile and pile on clothes of all types. She was a touch stubborn about what she wore and terribly opinionated about her clothes. My sister had this red dress that when she wore it made her look like she stepped out of the Heidi stories. It had a full skirt and lots of ric rac. I remember my mom peeling it off her while she slept to wash it. Skadi hasn’t approached that level of obsession just yet, though I can see it in her future. She far prefers clothes with cupcakes on them (pajamas too) and once on she announces, “it’s my birthday!”
Yes, it is STILL her birthday. Her brother’s upcoming birthday is going to be a stark realization. Or not. She may just believe (as my sister did) that everyone was celebrating HER birthday!
The first one I mentioned above I talked to my mom about the other day. The button pushing. My mom and I agreed that button pushing may just be one of those things that the youngest child is destined to lead the race on. When you think about it, this makes sense. The older child never had anyone with which to derive joy out of attempts to make them miserable.
Probably the single person in my life who knows how to push my buttons like no one’s business is my younger sister. It is made worse for me, now as an adult, because I feel paralyzed in the presence of this. As a child I was not allowed to respond to her because it might trigger an argument. And arguments didn’t happen in my house. My sister and I would start and would immediately be shushed by my mom who grew up in a family of bickering and therefore had more than her share.
Warning: NM’s Pop Psychiatry 101 (hey, I took high school psychology!)
Unfortunately how this manifested itself is that my sister and I have never learned how to argue with each other. And I think this combined with the fact that my sister and I are very different people, has lead to part of the reason we don’t communicate much anymore. We are cordial with each other, love each other’s kids to bits despite only seeing them once a year or so, and we do love each other. But our level of friendship doesn’t go much deeper than this I am sad to say. She occasionally reads my blog and may have a different take on all this… it may stem back to my making her drink spit, or telling her that the car wash scrubbers were retired Muppets, or from years of my mistaking my role as an older sister and trying to be a mom – when she already clearly had one. Her leg up on me, and still is, is that she can push my buttons.
Right now I feel my mom’s pain from 30 years ago. I don’t like hearing my kids argue. And at this stage it is all about the little things that will never get resolved because my kids don’t comprehend conflict management very well at this stage. Leif is learning at his Montessori school, Skadi will learn. But right now they both believe they are right 100%.
And usually neither of them is.
I make a point to step back. I try to listen to them to get a sense of what is going on so that when one of them comes running to me to complain about the other I have some idea. I try to avoid that easy statement that I heard so much as a kid, “just quit arguing, NOW!” When I was a kid my mom added onto the end of that statement about how she had three brothers and always wanted a sister she could be friends with, we should be best friends as sisters! I can’t tell you how many times as a kid (and I am sure my sister felt the same way) I wanted to tell my mom, “I’ll trade her for a brother!” Kind of like that whole “eat your food, there are children starving in Africa” theory whereby every child at some point has offered to mail their food to the unfortunate starving children. How realistic really, is this?
Skadi pushes Leif’s buttons. He does it back a little, but not nearly as much. His button pushing is limited to taking her things and refusing to return them, insisting he is using them and that they take turns. This usually results in much screaming. I am all for taking turns with things, but I am also on deck with the Montessori school philosophy that a child can have a toy and play with it, without being forced to surrender the toy because another child showed interest.
Skadi is more subtle.
“I love you mommy,” Leif will say.
“I love you mommy,” Skadi will say.
“Hey she copied me, stop copying me Skadi,” Leif will say.
“Stop copying me!” Skadi will say.
“Skadi, STOP copying me,” Leif will say.
“Stop copying me!” Skadi will say while giggling hilariously.
Yes, this is the point where I need to intervene to save my sanity from hearing “stop copying me” going back and forth 459 times and to minimize tears. Leif's tears. And it happens on all topics, Leif stating that he likes Scooby Doo – Skadi states this too and she is immediately fingered as “copying”. If they get to pick fruit snacks, Skadi waits to see which Leif will pick and then picks the same as him.
I have been trying to convince Leif that it may seem like copying, but it really is just admiration, she wants to be like him. Though in all honesty… I am not sure I can say this without wondering if it is really true or not. Or maybe that is my paranoia setting in from similar interactions with my sister? Or maybe it’s seeing that glint in my daughter’s eye that says, “THIS is what would upset my brother!”
There are instances that support this theory. Like when Skadi declares her favorite color to be yellow (in Leif's presence) and insists on the yellow cup, the yellow bowl, or the yellow crayon, etc. But if you ask her what her favorite color is without Leif in near proximity her response is purple or orange and yesterday she selected pink butterfly wings at the Renaissance Faire. Yet if Leif is around she immediately hones in on a yellow item that he may want. That same glint is in her eye during this routine too.
I suppose one area I can glean from this is my statistically insignificant assessment that I was wrong as a little girl when I thought that having a brother instead of a sister would make it all better. I am quite positive that there is equal amounts of bickering between opposite gender children and same gender children.
We’ll tackle the second one first. It’s easier. When my sister was a little girl she would pile and pile on clothes of all types. She was a touch stubborn about what she wore and terribly opinionated about her clothes. My sister had this red dress that when she wore it made her look like she stepped out of the Heidi stories. It had a full skirt and lots of ric rac. I remember my mom peeling it off her while she slept to wash it. Skadi hasn’t approached that level of obsession just yet, though I can see it in her future. She far prefers clothes with cupcakes on them (pajamas too) and once on she announces, “it’s my birthday!”
Yes, it is STILL her birthday. Her brother’s upcoming birthday is going to be a stark realization. Or not. She may just believe (as my sister did) that everyone was celebrating HER birthday!
The first one I mentioned above I talked to my mom about the other day. The button pushing. My mom and I agreed that button pushing may just be one of those things that the youngest child is destined to lead the race on. When you think about it, this makes sense. The older child never had anyone with which to derive joy out of attempts to make them miserable.
Probably the single person in my life who knows how to push my buttons like no one’s business is my younger sister. It is made worse for me, now as an adult, because I feel paralyzed in the presence of this. As a child I was not allowed to respond to her because it might trigger an argument. And arguments didn’t happen in my house. My sister and I would start and would immediately be shushed by my mom who grew up in a family of bickering and therefore had more than her share.
Warning: NM’s Pop Psychiatry 101 (hey, I took high school psychology!)
Unfortunately how this manifested itself is that my sister and I have never learned how to argue with each other. And I think this combined with the fact that my sister and I are very different people, has lead to part of the reason we don’t communicate much anymore. We are cordial with each other, love each other’s kids to bits despite only seeing them once a year or so, and we do love each other. But our level of friendship doesn’t go much deeper than this I am sad to say. She occasionally reads my blog and may have a different take on all this… it may stem back to my making her drink spit, or telling her that the car wash scrubbers were retired Muppets, or from years of my mistaking my role as an older sister and trying to be a mom – when she already clearly had one. Her leg up on me, and still is, is that she can push my buttons.
Right now I feel my mom’s pain from 30 years ago. I don’t like hearing my kids argue. And at this stage it is all about the little things that will never get resolved because my kids don’t comprehend conflict management very well at this stage. Leif is learning at his Montessori school, Skadi will learn. But right now they both believe they are right 100%.
And usually neither of them is.
I make a point to step back. I try to listen to them to get a sense of what is going on so that when one of them comes running to me to complain about the other I have some idea. I try to avoid that easy statement that I heard so much as a kid, “just quit arguing, NOW!” When I was a kid my mom added onto the end of that statement about how she had three brothers and always wanted a sister she could be friends with, we should be best friends as sisters! I can’t tell you how many times as a kid (and I am sure my sister felt the same way) I wanted to tell my mom, “I’ll trade her for a brother!” Kind of like that whole “eat your food, there are children starving in Africa” theory whereby every child at some point has offered to mail their food to the unfortunate starving children. How realistic really, is this?
Skadi pushes Leif’s buttons. He does it back a little, but not nearly as much. His button pushing is limited to taking her things and refusing to return them, insisting he is using them and that they take turns. This usually results in much screaming. I am all for taking turns with things, but I am also on deck with the Montessori school philosophy that a child can have a toy and play with it, without being forced to surrender the toy because another child showed interest.
Skadi is more subtle.
“I love you mommy,” Leif will say.
“I love you mommy,” Skadi will say.
“Hey she copied me, stop copying me Skadi,” Leif will say.
“Stop copying me!” Skadi will say.
“Skadi, STOP copying me,” Leif will say.
“Stop copying me!” Skadi will say while giggling hilariously.
Yes, this is the point where I need to intervene to save my sanity from hearing “stop copying me” going back and forth 459 times and to minimize tears. Leif's tears. And it happens on all topics, Leif stating that he likes Scooby Doo – Skadi states this too and she is immediately fingered as “copying”. If they get to pick fruit snacks, Skadi waits to see which Leif will pick and then picks the same as him.
I have been trying to convince Leif that it may seem like copying, but it really is just admiration, she wants to be like him. Though in all honesty… I am not sure I can say this without wondering if it is really true or not. Or maybe that is my paranoia setting in from similar interactions with my sister? Or maybe it’s seeing that glint in my daughter’s eye that says, “THIS is what would upset my brother!”
There are instances that support this theory. Like when Skadi declares her favorite color to be yellow (in Leif's presence) and insists on the yellow cup, the yellow bowl, or the yellow crayon, etc. But if you ask her what her favorite color is without Leif in near proximity her response is purple or orange and yesterday she selected pink butterfly wings at the Renaissance Faire. Yet if Leif is around she immediately hones in on a yellow item that he may want. That same glint is in her eye during this routine too.
I suppose one area I can glean from this is my statistically insignificant assessment that I was wrong as a little girl when I thought that having a brother instead of a sister would make it all better. I am quite positive that there is equal amounts of bickering between opposite gender children and same gender children.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Hero worship part 1
Leif is a little obsessed with his Uncle Scott.
Anything that he makes up that is the remote bit fantastic and grand in scale (like hunting for rhinos) - it is usually something Uncle Scott has done and often "all the time".
Uncle Scott is daddy's youngest brother. Leif has seen Uncle Scott twice in this last year - they joined us on our trip to Alaska this summer and then we saw him in Colorado over Thanksgiving.
Lately Leif has come up with lots of things that he and Uncle Scott are planning on doing together - Uncle Scott is a tad in the dark here...
"Uncle Scott and I are going to go hunt for rhinos and we will go carefully and quietly..."
"Uncle Scott and I are going to go to Antarctica and save baby penguins and that is very dangerous and so it has to be Uncle Scott..."
"Uncle Scott caught the biggest fish when we were in Alaska..." (AB would like to note that Scott did NOT catch the biggest fish in Alaska.)
Then there was the one tonight.
"Uncle Scott and I are going to go to Antarctica," he started.
AB interrupts him, "why is it always Uncle Scott, why not daddy?"
"Because Uncle Scott has a gun, and you don't," Leif says. (I am so not happy with the gun obsession thing, but it seems to plague most little boys.)
"Uncle Scott does NOT have a gun," AB says.
"Yes he does, he has a caulking gun!" Leif exclaims.
(Yes, there have been some recent home fix-ups.)
Anything that he makes up that is the remote bit fantastic and grand in scale (like hunting for rhinos) - it is usually something Uncle Scott has done and often "all the time".
Uncle Scott is daddy's youngest brother. Leif has seen Uncle Scott twice in this last year - they joined us on our trip to Alaska this summer and then we saw him in Colorado over Thanksgiving.
Lately Leif has come up with lots of things that he and Uncle Scott are planning on doing together - Uncle Scott is a tad in the dark here...
"Uncle Scott and I are going to go hunt for rhinos and we will go carefully and quietly..."
"Uncle Scott and I are going to go to Antarctica and save baby penguins and that is very dangerous and so it has to be Uncle Scott..."
"Uncle Scott caught the biggest fish when we were in Alaska..." (AB would like to note that Scott did NOT catch the biggest fish in Alaska.)
Then there was the one tonight.
"Uncle Scott and I are going to go to Antarctica," he started.
AB interrupts him, "why is it always Uncle Scott, why not daddy?"
"Because Uncle Scott has a gun, and you don't," Leif says. (I am so not happy with the gun obsession thing, but it seems to plague most little boys.)
"Uncle Scott does NOT have a gun," AB says.
"Yes he does, he has a caulking gun!" Leif exclaims.
(Yes, there have been some recent home fix-ups.)
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