Leif gets a kick out of making up lines of words to go along songs or nursery rhymes he hears. The other night for example, “Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb, Mary had a little lamb and she fell down on her nose!”
Hilarious, right?
Skadi has picked up this tendency. I kind of feel for Leif because I remember way back when my sister would say something funny and EVERYONE would laugh and think it was so funny. And I sat there with my jokes that drew rolled eyes.
(My favorite joke when I was 5 years old: “Why did the little girl monster eat bullets?” Answer: “Because she wanted to grow bangs!”)
Leif has modified his joke that we forbade him from saying anymore the other day. Now instead of asking “what’s your name?”, he asks, “what’s your first name?” When you look at him like ‘I told you we aren’t doing this’, he insists it is different. Now he asks for your first name, second name and last name, then goes on to “what color is the sky” and “what direction am I pointing?” Then he again insists it is different. And we scowl or roll our eyes.
(Brian, I told Leif your joke and he looked at me blankly… sorry!)
Then it just comes so naturally with Skadi.
Skadi: “Humpty dumpty sat on the wall, Humpty Dumpty had an atomic wedgie!”
Yes… sad to say, we all laughed. I know I probably shouldn't have encouraged it, it was just... just... so Skadi. Not sure where she picked up “atomic wedgie”…
And poor Leif is left wondering how to be funny like her.
Sorry Leif. Really sorry to have saddled you with a lack of joke telling ability.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Design major?
I am not a decorator. I loved art classes through high school and when I meet up with people who only knew me in high school, they typically speaking put me with the art crowd… not the science crowd. I started out college as a double major – biology and art. I dropped the art major deciding that I could do art anytime I wanted, what was more important was that I had a good paying job (and art wasn’t it). Soon after I switched from bio to chem.
Given that I liked art so much you might think that my home looks like a designer magazine.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha!
I suffer in the design department. Badly.
On houses in general…
When AB and I house shopped for both houses we toyed with the notion of “fixer uppers”. I envy people who can do that. Who can come up with neat layouts and see options in houses that need an upgrade. Who don’t mind flipping through tile after tile and carpet books and can make decisions on granite versus… well versus whatever the countertop of the minute is. We have dreamed about renovating a house and then we laugh. Our weekends are almost always full so doing it ourselves is out of the question and neither of us likes dealing with contractors. Flipping houses? Not for us.
On knick knacks…
Does it surprise you if I say that I am not into knick knacks? I don’t like things that collect dust. I don’t mind clutter and you will find clutter in my house. But something that is purposefully left out to collect dust? Doesn’t work for me. I don’t have shelves with things on them save for my china cabinet and hutch. When I do have a shelf, I am never quite sure what to put on it. I have a cute corner shelf in my entryway… no idea what I am supposed to put on it. Seriously. The cat likes to sleep on the bottom shelf and so it is half filled with a framed photograph, a wooden carved bird my dad sent me and a candle, then the bottom two shelves serve as a cat bed.
My hutch I love. My mom bought it for me one Christmas and I walked past it at Ennis a few times before AB pointed it out. I sat there and looked at it, not so sure about it. It wasn’t what I was envisioning. (Wasn’t even sure what I was envisioning.) But I liked the two tone black and wood. And functionality was there. It could hold my very few pieces of crystal and serving ware. Once it was in my home, it was perfect and now holds more china and crystal than I ever expected it would.
Speaking of those crystal pieces… during the trek to Colorado, and then Wyoming, in July I returned with luggage and to wait for about 8 boxes I shipped to myself. In the stacks of stuff are a few pieces of crystal from my grandmother’s house and some knick knack type things from my mom’s house. For as neat and tidy as my mom’s house was, they have a number of knick knacks. A few of those things spoke to me and I returned with things that I would deem to be knick knacks. Thus, I have been completely perplexed what to do with them. The crystal, notsomuch. It goes in my hutch. My mom’s five little pie birds? Well they belong out somewhere, not in a cupboard. Where… I haven’t quite figured out.
Knick knack type things perplex me.
On painting…
If you know me, then you also know that I love painting walls. This is my idea of decorating. I wasn’t always this way. My mom enjoyed painting when they bought a home after I graduated from high school. I didn’t always care for my mom’s color selection and techniques. So when we bought our first home I shy’d away from color. Then one boring weekend BC (before children) I painted a bathroom green. Before I knew it I was hooked and had an orange kitchen. Not everyone liked my orange kitchen… which is fine.
AB and I have taken a bit more conservative approach with painting in the new house. One problem we had in the other house was a lack of cohesiveness with color. We want to avoid that this time around and have taken loads more time to decide on colors than we ever did before. I had to have a colored wall to put my black and white photos on and so that was one of the first things we did. A deep green… that now doesn’t sit nearly as well with me as it did a year ago. Then we jumped to the kids’ rooms and I let my mom’s painting influence take over. The kids rooms include colors like black and pepto bismol pink.
Now I am faced with the dining room.
Amazingly AB and I are on the same page in the dining room. We don’t really argue over decorating much (because we don’t decorate much). But we don’t always see eye to eye on what should be done and IMO, my husband likes to be too involved somedays. Though fickle me… I want to make all the decisions, but don’t want to do all the work.
The July goal is nearly done, we have selected the color for the dining room – a slate grey blue color. Actually we have a few selections in this color scheme, but haven’t honed in on a color as the light is so bad in the dining room that we fear making a decision before changing out the chandelier. Taking things one step at a time… the August goal is looking like it will be a new chandelier followed by paint.
On art…
This is where I get really, really picky. I have an interior designer friend who really enjoys finding art to fit a space, but her husband drives her nuts. He believes that a piece of art on the wall should mean something, i.e., come from a vacation or have a story with it.
I agree with her husband.
We have a few prints by one of AB’s closest friends’ dad. They are in our favored contemporary style, are by someone we know and even better are personalized. We love our paintings.
And I like photographs that I (or someone else) has taken of subjects that I know. Namely, my kids. I have photos of my kids all over the house. For a long time they were professional photos that I paid an arm and a leg for after sitting in a studio with whiney kids. More lately, they have become photos that I have taken of the kids and then have processed professionally. I emulate my sister in law a lot. Even lately with family photos? The best ones are proving to be ones that our friends or family take and thus no whiney children in studios.
At the Colorado Renaissance Festival AB found a piece of art he loved and thought would work fabulously in our newly decorated dining room, but failed to get me back to see. This has created an unfortunate circumstance whereby he really, really wants the piece he found, but has no way to get it and furthermore, cannot find anything similar.
The challenges ahead…
Melding the treasures I found at my grandmother’s house, the items I took from my mother’s house and my design / décor together. We are talking three very different styles here – my grandmother’s antiques, my mother’s traditional styling and my contemporary stylings. Melding these three together is proving to be an interesting challenge.
Chandelier, oh chandelier, why must you be so ugly? Yes, replacing the chandelier in the formal dining room is a must. Soon. AB and I like this:
Once the chandelier goes then so does the matching window treatments and non-matching hardware. Window treatments. Yeah, I haven’t even gone there yet. Window treatments I will tackle AFTER the new chandelier and paint.
I wish I could say goodbye to the grey carpet that has seen better days, but that will still be awhile.
And my neverending battle with clutter.
Given that I liked art so much you might think that my home looks like a designer magazine.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha!
I suffer in the design department. Badly.
On houses in general…
When AB and I house shopped for both houses we toyed with the notion of “fixer uppers”. I envy people who can do that. Who can come up with neat layouts and see options in houses that need an upgrade. Who don’t mind flipping through tile after tile and carpet books and can make decisions on granite versus… well versus whatever the countertop of the minute is. We have dreamed about renovating a house and then we laugh. Our weekends are almost always full so doing it ourselves is out of the question and neither of us likes dealing with contractors. Flipping houses? Not for us.
On knick knacks…
Does it surprise you if I say that I am not into knick knacks? I don’t like things that collect dust. I don’t mind clutter and you will find clutter in my house. But something that is purposefully left out to collect dust? Doesn’t work for me. I don’t have shelves with things on them save for my china cabinet and hutch. When I do have a shelf, I am never quite sure what to put on it. I have a cute corner shelf in my entryway… no idea what I am supposed to put on it. Seriously. The cat likes to sleep on the bottom shelf and so it is half filled with a framed photograph, a wooden carved bird my dad sent me and a candle, then the bottom two shelves serve as a cat bed.
My hutch I love. My mom bought it for me one Christmas and I walked past it at Ennis a few times before AB pointed it out. I sat there and looked at it, not so sure about it. It wasn’t what I was envisioning. (Wasn’t even sure what I was envisioning.) But I liked the two tone black and wood. And functionality was there. It could hold my very few pieces of crystal and serving ware. Once it was in my home, it was perfect and now holds more china and crystal than I ever expected it would.
Speaking of those crystal pieces… during the trek to Colorado, and then Wyoming, in July I returned with luggage and to wait for about 8 boxes I shipped to myself. In the stacks of stuff are a few pieces of crystal from my grandmother’s house and some knick knack type things from my mom’s house. For as neat and tidy as my mom’s house was, they have a number of knick knacks. A few of those things spoke to me and I returned with things that I would deem to be knick knacks. Thus, I have been completely perplexed what to do with them. The crystal, notsomuch. It goes in my hutch. My mom’s five little pie birds? Well they belong out somewhere, not in a cupboard. Where… I haven’t quite figured out.
Knick knack type things perplex me.
On painting…
If you know me, then you also know that I love painting walls. This is my idea of decorating. I wasn’t always this way. My mom enjoyed painting when they bought a home after I graduated from high school. I didn’t always care for my mom’s color selection and techniques. So when we bought our first home I shy’d away from color. Then one boring weekend BC (before children) I painted a bathroom green. Before I knew it I was hooked and had an orange kitchen. Not everyone liked my orange kitchen… which is fine.
AB and I have taken a bit more conservative approach with painting in the new house. One problem we had in the other house was a lack of cohesiveness with color. We want to avoid that this time around and have taken loads more time to decide on colors than we ever did before. I had to have a colored wall to put my black and white photos on and so that was one of the first things we did. A deep green… that now doesn’t sit nearly as well with me as it did a year ago. Then we jumped to the kids’ rooms and I let my mom’s painting influence take over. The kids rooms include colors like black and pepto bismol pink.
Now I am faced with the dining room.
Amazingly AB and I are on the same page in the dining room. We don’t really argue over decorating much (because we don’t decorate much). But we don’t always see eye to eye on what should be done and IMO, my husband likes to be too involved somedays. Though fickle me… I want to make all the decisions, but don’t want to do all the work.
The July goal is nearly done, we have selected the color for the dining room – a slate grey blue color. Actually we have a few selections in this color scheme, but haven’t honed in on a color as the light is so bad in the dining room that we fear making a decision before changing out the chandelier. Taking things one step at a time… the August goal is looking like it will be a new chandelier followed by paint.
On art…
This is where I get really, really picky. I have an interior designer friend who really enjoys finding art to fit a space, but her husband drives her nuts. He believes that a piece of art on the wall should mean something, i.e., come from a vacation or have a story with it.
I agree with her husband.
We have a few prints by one of AB’s closest friends’ dad. They are in our favored contemporary style, are by someone we know and even better are personalized. We love our paintings.
And I like photographs that I (or someone else) has taken of subjects that I know. Namely, my kids. I have photos of my kids all over the house. For a long time they were professional photos that I paid an arm and a leg for after sitting in a studio with whiney kids. More lately, they have become photos that I have taken of the kids and then have processed professionally. I emulate my sister in law a lot. Even lately with family photos? The best ones are proving to be ones that our friends or family take and thus no whiney children in studios.
At the Colorado Renaissance Festival AB found a piece of art he loved and thought would work fabulously in our newly decorated dining room, but failed to get me back to see. This has created an unfortunate circumstance whereby he really, really wants the piece he found, but has no way to get it and furthermore, cannot find anything similar.
The challenges ahead…
Melding the treasures I found at my grandmother’s house, the items I took from my mother’s house and my design / décor together. We are talking three very different styles here – my grandmother’s antiques, my mother’s traditional styling and my contemporary stylings. Melding these three together is proving to be an interesting challenge.
Chandelier, oh chandelier, why must you be so ugly? Yes, replacing the chandelier in the formal dining room is a must. Soon. AB and I like this:
Once the chandelier goes then so does the matching window treatments and non-matching hardware. Window treatments. Yeah, I haven’t even gone there yet. Window treatments I will tackle AFTER the new chandelier and paint.
I wish I could say goodbye to the grey carpet that has seen better days, but that will still be awhile.
And my neverending battle with clutter.
Monday, July 19, 2010
To be a winner
Do you remember the first thing you won? Something you succeeded in all by yourself, with no help, or limited help from others?
I think the prize here is evident...
But Leif really honed in on the jousting:
While his sister watched... not thrilled that she couldn't do it.
I remember winning a poetry contest when I was in about 2nd grade. I wrote something about "Oreos and ice cream, such a lovely pair, I wish I could eat them everywhere!"
Ok, so I think there were more poems in it... it was a collection of poems and there had to be something else in there. Right? (I think there was a haiku requirement... "weep weeping willow, look at the soft fresh new dew, what a pretty tree"... rings a bell.)
I placed at gymnastics meets when I was a kid, winning first in one city meet at a pretty young age. I placed first on everything but the vault, which I placed third in, but still managed to pull the "all around" win. I remember the pride for that day like it was yesterday and I still have the ribbons and clipping from the newsletter.
Leif does well on soccer and his teams (both baseball and soccer) have won before. Not that they are actually supposed to know that, no score keeping and all... but tell that to a competitive nearly 6 year old. Scores are kept in their heads. And amazingly, they are very honest! When they lose, Leif declares a loss and doesn't sugar coat it. I think we underestimate our kids in this manner.
Leif had his first solo win at something this last week. We ventured to the Colorado Renaissance festival in Larkspur, CO with my sister and her family and Vargasgirl. For those of you from Washington, this is something like Leavenworth. The entire area is devoted to the Renaissance Festival and is the equivelent of a number of city blocks all in theme.
Leif is a gamer... he loves board games, iPhone games, Wii games, Leapster games... you name it. The kid loves games. At the festival were all sorts of skill games. Leif tested out many of them:
He succeeded at the rock wall only to find out there was no prize for ringing the bell...
He succeeded at the rock wall only to find out there was no prize for ringing the bell...
I think the prize here is evident...
But Leif really honed in on the jousting:
While his sister watched... not thrilled that she couldn't do it.
Yes, he had to put that big stick through this little hole while flying through the air and steadying himself on a wooden horse.
It didn't happen. He got two tries for his money and walked away disappointed.
Then we saw the other jousting ring a little later and he convinced us to let him try it again. This one was a griffin, not a horse, that made all the difference I am sure.
Steady, steady...
Looking good!
He got it!!
And here is the part he was waiting for the entire day. The honor of standing on the podium while the referree announced very, very loudly to everyone around that Leif has succeeded at the jousting! Then he handed Leif a plastic knife with a sheath that has been THE object of his obsession for well over a week now. No plastic toy has EVER meant so much to him.
Funny things my kids said
In the Seattle airport, Skadi and I go into the crowded restroom where she promptly screams at the very top of her little lungs:
"WALK THE PLANK SCURVY DOGS!"
Scared two little old ladies to pieces. Sigh.
-----------
Putting Leif to bed last night:
Leif: "But mommy, I want you to sleep with me!"
Me: "I love you honey, but I sleep in my bed and you sleep in yours."
Leif: "Well I don't understand your choice. I like painted rooms and I would only want to sleep in a painted room if I were you."
(If pleading doesn't work, change up the tactic I guess.)
------------
Skadi on the way home, last leg from Seattle to Pasco, headed down the stairs to the plane she turns around and looks at the woman behind us:
"I am going to Hawaii!"
-------------
While in Colorado, Rick asked me to make a sign for the door downstairs so that the kids would stay out of the basement, where the kitties would be. Leif and I came up with a skull and cross bones that said, "Stay Out Scurvy Dogs". Leif was quite thrilled with it.
He came back up to me and told me that we needed a sign on the inside now that said, "Stay in Scurvy Cats!" Oh and he showed nearly every visitor all the while giggling.
-------------
Leif inherited my talent for telling jokes. You should know that I have no talent for telling jokes and am somewhat notorious for getting to the end of the joke and blanking, which drove my husband up the wall. Now I don't tell jokes.
Leif has a joke he tells.
Leif: "What's your name?"
You: "[Insert name]"
Leif: "What color is the sky?"
You: "Blue."
Leif: "Which way am I pointing?" (He points up.)
You: "Up."
Leif: "Mommy (or whatever the name is) blew up! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!
He has been telling us this joke for nearly a year. The kid is in sore need of a new joke because we actually forbade him from telling it anymore while in Colorado. It is that desperate.
Please help him.
Soon.
------------
Putting Skadi to bed last night.
Me: "Skadi stop it, you kicked my glasses!"
Skadi: "No mommy, your glasses kicked my foot and it hurt very much."
I didn't laugh. Instead I held her bedtime books hostage until she apologized for kicking my glasses. It took awhile, but she eventually came around to see things my way.
------------
Not a kid funny... but the sad truth. I am switching my comments over to moderated because I can no longer stand the spam my blog is receiving. I really believe that a blog should have open comments and it has always bugged me to have moderated comments, but desperate times in fighting spam call for desperate measures. My apologies to everyone and I will work to get legit comments turned around as quickly as possible.
"WALK THE PLANK SCURVY DOGS!"
Scared two little old ladies to pieces. Sigh.
-----------
Putting Leif to bed last night:
Leif: "But mommy, I want you to sleep with me!"
Me: "I love you honey, but I sleep in my bed and you sleep in yours."
Leif: "Well I don't understand your choice. I like painted rooms and I would only want to sleep in a painted room if I were you."
(If pleading doesn't work, change up the tactic I guess.)
------------
Skadi on the way home, last leg from Seattle to Pasco, headed down the stairs to the plane she turns around and looks at the woman behind us:
"I am going to Hawaii!"
-------------
While in Colorado, Rick asked me to make a sign for the door downstairs so that the kids would stay out of the basement, where the kitties would be. Leif and I came up with a skull and cross bones that said, "Stay Out Scurvy Dogs". Leif was quite thrilled with it.
He came back up to me and told me that we needed a sign on the inside now that said, "Stay in Scurvy Cats!" Oh and he showed nearly every visitor all the while giggling.
-------------
Leif inherited my talent for telling jokes. You should know that I have no talent for telling jokes and am somewhat notorious for getting to the end of the joke and blanking, which drove my husband up the wall. Now I don't tell jokes.
Leif has a joke he tells.
Leif: "What's your name?"
You: "[Insert name]"
Leif: "What color is the sky?"
You: "Blue."
Leif: "Which way am I pointing?" (He points up.)
You: "Up."
Leif: "Mommy (or whatever the name is) blew up! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!
He has been telling us this joke for nearly a year. The kid is in sore need of a new joke because we actually forbade him from telling it anymore while in Colorado. It is that desperate.
Please help him.
Soon.
------------
Putting Skadi to bed last night.
Me: "Skadi stop it, you kicked my glasses!"
Skadi: "No mommy, your glasses kicked my foot and it hurt very much."
I didn't laugh. Instead I held her bedtime books hostage until she apologized for kicking my glasses. It took awhile, but she eventually came around to see things my way.
------------
Not a kid funny... but the sad truth. I am switching my comments over to moderated because I can no longer stand the spam my blog is receiving. I really believe that a blog should have open comments and it has always bugged me to have moderated comments, but desperate times in fighting spam call for desperate measures. My apologies to everyone and I will work to get legit comments turned around as quickly as possible.
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.
Friday, July 09, 2010
Fridays = Mondays?
Since when did this happen? And is anyone else having this problem?
It used to be that Wednesdays were my busy work days, now it is Thursdays and Fridays.
Mondays are those notorious days that everyone rolls their eyes about. Maybe if you have a big week, people will meet on Mondays and assign duties on those big projects. I have never been on those types of projects. Mondays tend to be quiet in my world and I think that is the case around the lab. No one I know is usually swamped on Mondays, we need to ease into the week.
Tuesdays aren't as relaxing as Mondays. I think we start on Tuesdays to slowly ramp up the week. Tuesdays are days commong for meetings. Clients - at least mine - usually travel on Mondays and start their days visiting on Tuesdays. Tuesdays are nice days.
Wednesdays were always my busy days. I think it is the day that a lot of people get busy. Wednesdays are common for meetings and wrapping up or continuing client visits.
Thursday is when my week starts to kick into full gear. One of my clients and my team hold our weekly teleconference. And because we are gluttons for punishment... or we just like each other a whole lot... we then hold our internal meeting afterward.
I walk in on Fridays with my "Friday latte" and it is quiet. A lot of people take Fridays off (I assume) or they come in early and leave early. Or something. Or maybe they are just like me... and really, really busy.
My Fridays lately have been absolutely swamped. This morning I was in at 7:30 for a teleconference with an east coast client who was hoping to escape early in the afternoon. Then I had a number of other meetings thrown on my schedule. This doesn't seem to be an anomaly.
Fridays? Busy in my book.
Anyone else?
It used to be that Wednesdays were my busy work days, now it is Thursdays and Fridays.
Mondays are those notorious days that everyone rolls their eyes about. Maybe if you have a big week, people will meet on Mondays and assign duties on those big projects. I have never been on those types of projects. Mondays tend to be quiet in my world and I think that is the case around the lab. No one I know is usually swamped on Mondays, we need to ease into the week.
Tuesdays aren't as relaxing as Mondays. I think we start on Tuesdays to slowly ramp up the week. Tuesdays are days commong for meetings. Clients - at least mine - usually travel on Mondays and start their days visiting on Tuesdays. Tuesdays are nice days.
Wednesdays were always my busy days. I think it is the day that a lot of people get busy. Wednesdays are common for meetings and wrapping up or continuing client visits.
Thursday is when my week starts to kick into full gear. One of my clients and my team hold our weekly teleconference. And because we are gluttons for punishment... or we just like each other a whole lot... we then hold our internal meeting afterward.
I walk in on Fridays with my "Friday latte" and it is quiet. A lot of people take Fridays off (I assume) or they come in early and leave early. Or something. Or maybe they are just like me... and really, really busy.
My Fridays lately have been absolutely swamped. This morning I was in at 7:30 for a teleconference with an east coast client who was hoping to escape early in the afternoon. Then I had a number of other meetings thrown on my schedule. This doesn't seem to be an anomaly.
Fridays? Busy in my book.
Anyone else?
Sunday, July 04, 2010
July Goals
My goal for the month of July is to decide on a design tactic for my dining room. I have no intention of tackling the decorating in July - just too much going on - I just want to have a strategy in mind.
Part of that strategy allows for time to convince AB of my plan!
In no way did I expect to have this complete by July 4th.
Ok, so it isn't totally complete as in paint this color and start here and stop here.
Nope, my first goal was to convince AB that the dining room needed to be addressed. Thanks to my sister in law, who has been residing with us for a few months now, this became a little easier.
"Well we actually have been using the room a fair amount, that makes it easier to justify" AB relented way too easily. "What were you thinking?"
"Slate," I replied.
AB's eyebrows raised in an intrigued manner.
"With some sort of light neutral, like a tan or something, just a bit darker than the off-white that is already here, something close to the color in the coffer," I went on enthused by the lack of puking noises on his part.
"What would you paint?" he asked.
"The wall with the buffet, the wall with the arch and maybe the stairs wall," I replied.
"Well you probably would want to hit some in the coffer I think," he goes on. (This is going well... maybe we can do this!"
"And in an ideal world we would dump the light fixture and the curtains too," I said seeing my chance.
"Really?" AB said, "but I thought those were your favorite things in the house?" He joked. "What do you think of doing it in one of the textured paints?"
Ok, so maybe we haven't been through the hardest part yet, selecting the actual colors... but I am making up for only having four recipes written out from June's goal!
Saturday, July 03, 2010
Fishergirl
I was born in Central Wyoming to a father who enjoyed fishing and a grandfather who lived fishing. From a young age I had a pole in my hand.
Through the years I continued to fish even into high school. I went fishing on occasion with one of my best friends, Brian, from high school. I remember one night camping out at a lake around a bunch of old people (who were all quite nice) and fishing. The wind blew so hard that night I feared the tent was going to blow away with us in it.
Through the years I continued to fish even into high school. I went fishing on occasion with one of my best friends, Brian, from high school. I remember one night camping out at a lake around a bunch of old people (who were all quite nice) and fishing. The wind blew so hard that night I feared the tent was going to blow away with us in it.
Given that my husband's moniker is "Alaska Boy", you can probably guess that I have fished in Alaska. One of our most recent trips I even outfished AB for sockeye!
One of my favorite Alaska fishing memories is fishing with my mother in law at 1am with wine glasses in our hands. We have fished in a number of different places in Alaska - the Kenai peninsula, Talkeetna area, and King Salmon.
AB hasn't fished much in this area though we keep talking about changing that. Leif has a desire to fish and he caught his first fish, a nice rainbow trout, in Alaska two years ago. AB needs to get out there with Leif.
AB has his list of fish to catch - salmon shark tops the list, but includes sturgeon and tuna.
For Father's Day this year I decided to get AB a sturgeon fishing charter. I conspired one morning (while in a meeting) with a coworker who is an avid fisherman. When I told him what I wanted to do he rattled off a phone number. One of his good buddies is a guide and would be happy to take AB out.
I called and organized the trip after giving in and divulging to AB my plans. See putting anything on AB's schedule is hard. AB was thrilled.
Unfortunately the first trip was cancelled. There is an issue with trying to get a single guy, one guy I mean, on a charter. No guide is going to take a single person out. The guide worked with me trying to fit AB on with other groups, but it wasn't looking good.
Finally one evening I said to AB, "I could probably go with".
I hadn't really thought about it to that point. It isn't an inexpensive venture, but I love fishing too. AB smiled. The big issue with doing this lies with the kids. Being out of touch of the school, the kids in daycare, is a tough thing. Thankfully we have great friends who can back us up!
I called and asked him to fit us in and offered a few days. Thursday night he called and asked if we wanted to go out the next day. Even though my gut said no way, too short notice, what about the kids, this is less than 12 hours notice, I agreed to go.
AB caught the first sturgeon.
I got the second... when our guide saw him jump he had me sit down in the chair and brace myself...
Then he jumped again and I completely freaked out!
Once I got the fish all worn out - after about 20 minutes - I passed it off to AB to pull in. (Which only took about 40 minutes or so!
Hello big boy!
8-9 feet long, 200-300 lbs, and about 60-70 years old.
AB holding on to his mouth. I got to do that too! Then we let him go.
This is me bringing sturgeon number three!
Me and my fish! This one was only 25 years old or so. (Then we tossed him back in.)
Then I caught a catfish... that was a surprise. It was our guide's first catfish on the river after 14 years of guiding!
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Skadi's word of the week
“Trash”
Definition: Messed up.
Common Usage: Trashy, Trashed
Examples:
The Tivo recorded a glitchy Dora the Explorer that kept fading in and out.
Skadi: “Change this mommy, this one is all trashed.”
The Tinkerbell DVD has seen better days…
Skadi: “No, we can’t watch Tinkerbell, that DVD is trashed.”
At bed last night.
Me: “Look at that cute little tushy!”
Skadi: “No mommy, I am not a little trashy.”
Definition: Messed up.
Common Usage: Trashy, Trashed
Examples:
The Tivo recorded a glitchy Dora the Explorer that kept fading in and out.
Skadi: “Change this mommy, this one is all trashed.”
The Tinkerbell DVD has seen better days…
Skadi: “No, we can’t watch Tinkerbell, that DVD is trashed.”
At bed last night.
Me: “Look at that cute little tushy!”
Skadi: “No mommy, I am not a little trashy.”
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Things I Like Part One: Books
The first book I ever learned to read was called “Cat and Dog”. It isn’t terribly pc anymore, the dog threatened to do all sorts of things to the cat, including making a “catcoat”. But I loved that book and read – I mean memorized it and would “read” it to my parents over and over. My love for reading, like many people I know, has thrived over the decades.
I know I have blogged many times about books and reading. I thought I would start a post series on things I like. Here is post number one – books.
The last few months my need to read has accelerated. I believe it to be pure escapism. When I am laying in bed in the evening, it is easier to escape into a book than lie there thinking about “stuff”. I think about work, which isn’t a bad thing. But it isn’t like I need to think about work at that time of night. I think about my kids. Are they sleeping well? What are they dreaming about? Will Skadi wake up tonight? How many times will I have to put her back to bed? Are the kids breathing? Did they get wrapped up in their blankets too tightly? I better go check on them.
Then my main reason for escapism lately, I miss my mom. Please God be taking care of her. Is she watching over us? Were there things left unsaid? How is Rick doing? What is the life celebration going to be like? Am I going to be able to hold it together in church this week? Why? Why her?
And then the inevitable… Will I get the same cancer? What can I do to make sure I don’t? Do I need to go to the doctor? What if it is genetic? Can they do genetic testing? What if my kids get cancer? What is up with that funny two toned mole on Leif’s finger?
The thought process above? That is why I have been inhaling books lately. Check out my GoodReads.com list if you don’t believe me.
In September 2009 I finished “The Good Earth” by Pearl S. Buck after 3 months of reading. Loved it. I moved on easily to “Shanghai Girls”, similar genre and era, but told from the opposite perspective of Buck’s book. Loved it as well.
After I finished “Shanghai Girls” in January, I hit a stride that is still going strong.
“Look Me in the Eye: My Life With Asperger’s” (blogged about previously.)
“Embroideries” by Satrapi
“Twilight”
“New Moon”
“Stones into Schools”
“Eclipse”
“Breaking Dawn”
“The Help”
“Garlic and Sapphires”
I read them all between February and now. This is a lot for me. I know people who are fast readers. I am not ashamed to admit that I am a slow reader. Very slow.
I have three books started right now:
“American Pie: Slices of Life (and Pie) from America’s Back Roads” – I picked it up off my mom’s bookshelf while I was in Colorado shortly after her passing.
“The Travels of Jaimie McPheeters” – a book recommended to me by an online friend and it fit straight in with my favorite genre, historical fiction, particularly of the North American west.
Then my sister sent me my mom’s Kindle. Before I register it in my own name (and lose her downloads) I decided to read the books on there that I am interested in. My mom raved repeatedly about “Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet” shortly after she read it. It was on my Amazon wish list. I am 14% complete with that (Kindle fulfills my analytical analytical nature for quantitation) and certain that it must be spectacular for my mom to rave about it since it opens up talking about a widower who lost his wife to cancer at a young age. Bitter, not seeing the sweet yet, though I know if my mom did, I will too.
I am loving the Kindle so far. I have the Kindle ap on my iPhone, but I rarely use it. Only when I am stuck somewhere, by myself (i.e., no kids in tow begging for games on the phone), and bored of Fruit Ninja or Skeeball or Cribbage. Kindle for the iPhone is fine, but I am not wow’d.
I am wow’d by the real Kindle.
AB and I have opposite bedtime rituals. He showers and crawls into bed in complete darkness, with no distractions (yes, I like to talk, but I curb this) and falls asleep (hopefully). He struggles with falling asleep. I get into bed and read. I grew up reading myself to sleep. We have gone around about this a few times, I don’t like to get up and sit downstairs and read. I like to read in bed. And the reading lights are all too bright for him to sleep.
So like my preteen self, I hide under the blankets with my book and reading light until AB starts to snore. Kindle is a serious enabler here. At 8 ounces and with no pages to flip against the sheets I can read and read and read. Once AB is snoring I can carefully come out of hiding and resume being 38 and not 10.
I have a stack of books in waiting – my next book club book: “The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven” which I am really looking forward to. I am envisioning a book something like Leslie Marmon Silko’s “Ceremony”, which I read in college and loved. I also have “The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner” sitting on my bedside table.
On the floor, waiting to move on deck is “My Life in France” by Julia Child followed by a good 10 other books I have picked up in the last few years, but not yet cracked.
Things I like? Books are up around number one.
I know I have blogged many times about books and reading. I thought I would start a post series on things I like. Here is post number one – books.
The last few months my need to read has accelerated. I believe it to be pure escapism. When I am laying in bed in the evening, it is easier to escape into a book than lie there thinking about “stuff”. I think about work, which isn’t a bad thing. But it isn’t like I need to think about work at that time of night. I think about my kids. Are they sleeping well? What are they dreaming about? Will Skadi wake up tonight? How many times will I have to put her back to bed? Are the kids breathing? Did they get wrapped up in their blankets too tightly? I better go check on them.
Then my main reason for escapism lately, I miss my mom. Please God be taking care of her. Is she watching over us? Were there things left unsaid? How is Rick doing? What is the life celebration going to be like? Am I going to be able to hold it together in church this week? Why? Why her?
And then the inevitable… Will I get the same cancer? What can I do to make sure I don’t? Do I need to go to the doctor? What if it is genetic? Can they do genetic testing? What if my kids get cancer? What is up with that funny two toned mole on Leif’s finger?
The thought process above? That is why I have been inhaling books lately. Check out my GoodReads.com list if you don’t believe me.
In September 2009 I finished “The Good Earth” by Pearl S. Buck after 3 months of reading. Loved it. I moved on easily to “Shanghai Girls”, similar genre and era, but told from the opposite perspective of Buck’s book. Loved it as well.
After I finished “Shanghai Girls” in January, I hit a stride that is still going strong.
“Look Me in the Eye: My Life With Asperger’s” (blogged about previously.)
“Embroideries” by Satrapi
“Twilight”
“New Moon”
“Stones into Schools”
“Eclipse”
“Breaking Dawn”
“The Help”
“Garlic and Sapphires”
I read them all between February and now. This is a lot for me. I know people who are fast readers. I am not ashamed to admit that I am a slow reader. Very slow.
I have three books started right now:
“American Pie: Slices of Life (and Pie) from America’s Back Roads” – I picked it up off my mom’s bookshelf while I was in Colorado shortly after her passing.
“The Travels of Jaimie McPheeters” – a book recommended to me by an online friend and it fit straight in with my favorite genre, historical fiction, particularly of the North American west.
Then my sister sent me my mom’s Kindle. Before I register it in my own name (and lose her downloads) I decided to read the books on there that I am interested in. My mom raved repeatedly about “Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet” shortly after she read it. It was on my Amazon wish list. I am 14% complete with that (Kindle fulfills my analytical analytical nature for quantitation) and certain that it must be spectacular for my mom to rave about it since it opens up talking about a widower who lost his wife to cancer at a young age. Bitter, not seeing the sweet yet, though I know if my mom did, I will too.
I am loving the Kindle so far. I have the Kindle ap on my iPhone, but I rarely use it. Only when I am stuck somewhere, by myself (i.e., no kids in tow begging for games on the phone), and bored of Fruit Ninja or Skeeball or Cribbage. Kindle for the iPhone is fine, but I am not wow’d.
I am wow’d by the real Kindle.
AB and I have opposite bedtime rituals. He showers and crawls into bed in complete darkness, with no distractions (yes, I like to talk, but I curb this) and falls asleep (hopefully). He struggles with falling asleep. I get into bed and read. I grew up reading myself to sleep. We have gone around about this a few times, I don’t like to get up and sit downstairs and read. I like to read in bed. And the reading lights are all too bright for him to sleep.
So like my preteen self, I hide under the blankets with my book and reading light until AB starts to snore. Kindle is a serious enabler here. At 8 ounces and with no pages to flip against the sheets I can read and read and read. Once AB is snoring I can carefully come out of hiding and resume being 38 and not 10.
I have a stack of books in waiting – my next book club book: “The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven” which I am really looking forward to. I am envisioning a book something like Leslie Marmon Silko’s “Ceremony”, which I read in college and loved. I also have “The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner” sitting on my bedside table.
On the floor, waiting to move on deck is “My Life in France” by Julia Child followed by a good 10 other books I have picked up in the last few years, but not yet cracked.
Things I like? Books are up around number one.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Bean Speak
Skadi's new preschool teacher has a tendency to call the kids, "darlin". I am not positive if it is just girls, or boys too. I haven't heard it out of Leif, so I am thinking just the girls are darlin'.
Skadi: (to me) "Come on darlin', come in my secret fairy house."
Me: "Why doesn't Leif crawl in there with you."
Skadi: "Because brothers are not allowed in secret fairy houses."
---
Skadi: (at bedtime) "Darlin' I want you to read the poop book to me."
---
You get the idea, we have all been Skadi's "darlin's" this weekend.
-----------------
We have switched from doing Friday lattes to Friday mini doughnut day. Ok, the kids have switched from ordering Friday hot chocolates to doughnuts... I am still a latte person. That's not to say I don't WANT a mini doughnut and if I have been good during the week I might partake. You know you get the third one at such a discount if you order three...
Leif: "YAY chocolate doughnut for me!"
Skadi: "YAY pink doughnut for me with sprinkles!"
Leif: "YAY chocolate doughnut for me!"
Skadi: (sounding very seriously) "Leif that sign right there says I am sorry there are no more chocolate doughnuts, you have to have a pink doughnut."
Leif: "NO MOM! WHY DON'T THEY HAVE CHOCOLATE DOUGHNUTS! NOOOO!!"
Me: "Leif, can Skadi read?"
Leif: "No."
Me: "So when she tells you what a sign says, why do you believe her?"
(Pause.)
Leif: "MOM! THEY DON'T HAVE CHOCOLATE DOUGHNUTS!"
Me: "Yes, Leif, they do. She was just teasing you."
Skadi: (Giggles)
Leif: "That is SO mean Skadi!"
She so has his number.
----------
Skadi is a very apologetic child. Anything done on accident she is quick to apologize for. The things done on purpose, you may NEVER get an apology out of her short of threatening time out. She is so apologetic sometimes, that I have been telling her she doesn't have to apologize ALL the time, only when she hurts someone. Because she will apologize for touching you.
Me: (After stepping on the side of her foot.) "Oh, I am so sorry Skadi, are you okay?"
Skadi: "Well it hurt an awful lot, but you don't have to say you are sorry."
So far, explaining to her when to use sorry? Not so successful.
Skadi: (to me) "Come on darlin', come in my secret fairy house."
Me: "Why doesn't Leif crawl in there with you."
Skadi: "Because brothers are not allowed in secret fairy houses."
---
Skadi: (at bedtime) "Darlin' I want you to read the poop book to me."
---
You get the idea, we have all been Skadi's "darlin's" this weekend.
-----------------
We have switched from doing Friday lattes to Friday mini doughnut day. Ok, the kids have switched from ordering Friday hot chocolates to doughnuts... I am still a latte person. That's not to say I don't WANT a mini doughnut and if I have been good during the week I might partake. You know you get the third one at such a discount if you order three...
Leif: "YAY chocolate doughnut for me!"
Skadi: "YAY pink doughnut for me with sprinkles!"
Leif: "YAY chocolate doughnut for me!"
Skadi: (sounding very seriously) "Leif that sign right there says I am sorry there are no more chocolate doughnuts, you have to have a pink doughnut."
Leif: "NO MOM! WHY DON'T THEY HAVE CHOCOLATE DOUGHNUTS! NOOOO!!"
Me: "Leif, can Skadi read?"
Leif: "No."
Me: "So when she tells you what a sign says, why do you believe her?"
(Pause.)
Leif: "MOM! THEY DON'T HAVE CHOCOLATE DOUGHNUTS!"
Me: "Yes, Leif, they do. She was just teasing you."
Skadi: (Giggles)
Leif: "That is SO mean Skadi!"
She so has his number.
----------
Skadi is a very apologetic child. Anything done on accident she is quick to apologize for. The things done on purpose, you may NEVER get an apology out of her short of threatening time out. She is so apologetic sometimes, that I have been telling her she doesn't have to apologize ALL the time, only when she hurts someone. Because she will apologize for touching you.
Me: (After stepping on the side of her foot.) "Oh, I am so sorry Skadi, are you okay?"
Skadi: "Well it hurt an awful lot, but you don't have to say you are sorry."
So far, explaining to her when to use sorry? Not so successful.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
On kids and sports
I remember pontificating one time, okay, maybe more times than once, that I thought kids were overscheduled and that *my* kids would only participate in one activity at a time outside of school (Spanish lessons, music lessons and Tumblebus aside since those are extracurricular through school, during their time). If there was more than one activity they wanted to do, then they had to make a decision.
This week my son has two tennis lessons, one soccer practice and swimming lessons.
In my own defense, tennis is ending this week and soccer is just starting. So there is really only one week where this craziness of three sports has taken hold.
Swimming lessons are every Saturday morning. Leif could kind of care less about swimming, but his sister is a fish. It would be easy to let swimming fall off Leif’s schedule, but both AB and I feel that swimming is an ultra-important skill that our children must possess. Our family cabin is on Puget Sound, about 100 feet from the water. There are boats and watercraft of all sorts during the summer. Not to mention that AB grew up swimming and it was his sport of choice. Oh and did I mention that we are hoping for a trip to Hawaii this coming year and want the kids to be able to swim... like in the ocean.
Then you toss in there the sibling factor… Skadi lives every day of her life looking forward to Saturday swimming lessons – this IS her one activity. She knows all the swim teachers and they know her... well. Since she was in parent-tot she was a little swimming star. The teachers love teaching Skadi because she does anything they ask. (This is the one time every week that Skadi does as she is told.) Check out the picture from the one session where her teacher decided to pass her up - way up. She did quite well, but it looked pretty funny in the picture her standing there with a 6, 7 and 9 year old and she was 2.5 and in a swim diaper.
We opted to put her back with kids her own age and the teachers promised not to let her stagnate - so far they haven't!
We did the divide and conquer thing one session where I took Skadi to swimming and Leif stayed home with daddy. And it isn’t that it didn’t work… it just wasn’t ideal. We like being together as a family, even if it is just for an hour of swimming lessons with mom and dad on the sides watching the kids perform.
This was really that turning point when we realized that one activity a week wasn't going to work for long.
Tennis. When I was five years old my mom put me in tennis lessons and I wore the cutest little white skort and went to Mike Cedar Park for my lessons. One of the older boys in my lesson made a snide comment to me – he made fun of me for having Kool-Aid in my water bottle. I responded in the manner that most girls that age would – I stuck my tongue out of him. My mom saw too. I thought I was going to be in so much trouble, but she thought it was hilarious. I played racquet sports off and off through my life. Mostly racquetball, like my mom and stepdad, but I also dabbled with tennis. Leif became strangely intrigued with tennis after playing it on the Wii. A few months ago he started asking for tennis lessons and I scrambled looking for options.
See as a working mom, you are terribly limited in summer sports activities. No one wants to teach summer sports on the weekends! I finally bit the bullet and signed Leif up for four lessons over a span of two weeks as an introduction to tennis.
I sort of expected he would take the class, realize he wasn’t Andre Agassi (not that he knows who Andre is), and move onto something else. Instead Leif has declared that he “loves” tennis and it is “even better than baseball”. And not terribly surprising since the kid loves sports, he isn’t half bad at it. He was sporting his wicked backhand today. Yes, he knows what a backhand is now.
This is where mommy guilt stings. Because I can’t justify to continue taking off at 9:30am Monday and Wednesdays to go grab Leif from school (where he misses ultra-important calendar work) to drive across town for a half hour lesson, then drive back, deposit him back at school and run back to work and get there by 11am in order to further his tennis interest. Can I? I keep telling myself he is only 5 and 11/12th. There are going to be plenty of summers when I am clamoring for camps and such to enroll the kids in. He will probably get his fill of tennis then.
Soccer. Oh soccer, the most beloved of Leif sports. We do soccer through the YMCA in the summers as well as indoor soccer in the winter. And this year, given Leif’s enthusiasm over soccer, we have registered him for the competitive league that starts this fall. I think this officially makes me a soccer mom putting Leif in this league. Leif is all about soccer and during every recess at school he can be found on the soccer field. Daily he begs me to allow him to wear his cleats to school. Today he wanted to "just bring them in case" his teachers decide he can wear cleats on the playground. The boys cheer when he arrives in the morning and direct him to which team “needs help”. Leif very willingly complies because like his father, he likes to help the underdog. Not doing soccer? Not really an option unless I want one unhappy little boy.
I know people who slam sports, who think it ridiculous that we spend time running our kids around for sports practices and events. To each their own. Both AB and I were raised in families that prided physical activity. AB and his brothers were diehard swimmers. I was lucky, my mom worked at the YMCA and so I was able to take every single class I wanted to (hello disco dancing!) and my mom was lucky that she didn't have to pay for childcare.
I played volleyball and basketball from 5th grade through 9th grade, competed in track and field and competed in gymnastics through 10th grade, until I got an afterschool job instead. I ski both downhill and cross country, played tennis and racquetball (2nd in State Juniors in Wyoming), softball (which I absolutely despised though), swam and most recently ran (which I really need to get back to).
My parents taught me I could do anything and enabled me to pursue my interests. I wasn’t great at every sport, but I enjoyed them (except for softball) and learned the value of physical activity.
So when I run home from work on Monday and race to fix a quick dinner to eat on the run to soccer practice that starts at 6:15pm… yeah, it’s not ideal. But it’s the best we can do right now as working parents who are striving to enable their kids’ dreams. Not every child dreams about sports.
Mine does.
This week my son has two tennis lessons, one soccer practice and swimming lessons.
In my own defense, tennis is ending this week and soccer is just starting. So there is really only one week where this craziness of three sports has taken hold.
Swimming lessons are every Saturday morning. Leif could kind of care less about swimming, but his sister is a fish. It would be easy to let swimming fall off Leif’s schedule, but both AB and I feel that swimming is an ultra-important skill that our children must possess. Our family cabin is on Puget Sound, about 100 feet from the water. There are boats and watercraft of all sorts during the summer. Not to mention that AB grew up swimming and it was his sport of choice. Oh and did I mention that we are hoping for a trip to Hawaii this coming year and want the kids to be able to swim... like in the ocean.
Then you toss in there the sibling factor… Skadi lives every day of her life looking forward to Saturday swimming lessons – this IS her one activity. She knows all the swim teachers and they know her... well. Since she was in parent-tot she was a little swimming star. The teachers love teaching Skadi because she does anything they ask. (This is the one time every week that Skadi does as she is told.) Check out the picture from the one session where her teacher decided to pass her up - way up. She did quite well, but it looked pretty funny in the picture her standing there with a 6, 7 and 9 year old and she was 2.5 and in a swim diaper.
We opted to put her back with kids her own age and the teachers promised not to let her stagnate - so far they haven't!We did the divide and conquer thing one session where I took Skadi to swimming and Leif stayed home with daddy. And it isn’t that it didn’t work… it just wasn’t ideal. We like being together as a family, even if it is just for an hour of swimming lessons with mom and dad on the sides watching the kids perform.
This was really that turning point when we realized that one activity a week wasn't going to work for long.
Tennis. When I was five years old my mom put me in tennis lessons and I wore the cutest little white skort and went to Mike Cedar Park for my lessons. One of the older boys in my lesson made a snide comment to me – he made fun of me for having Kool-Aid in my water bottle. I responded in the manner that most girls that age would – I stuck my tongue out of him. My mom saw too. I thought I was going to be in so much trouble, but she thought it was hilarious. I played racquet sports off and off through my life. Mostly racquetball, like my mom and stepdad, but I also dabbled with tennis. Leif became strangely intrigued with tennis after playing it on the Wii. A few months ago he started asking for tennis lessons and I scrambled looking for options.
See as a working mom, you are terribly limited in summer sports activities. No one wants to teach summer sports on the weekends! I finally bit the bullet and signed Leif up for four lessons over a span of two weeks as an introduction to tennis.
I sort of expected he would take the class, realize he wasn’t Andre Agassi (not that he knows who Andre is), and move onto something else. Instead Leif has declared that he “loves” tennis and it is “even better than baseball”. And not terribly surprising since the kid loves sports, he isn’t half bad at it. He was sporting his wicked backhand today. Yes, he knows what a backhand is now.
This is where mommy guilt stings. Because I can’t justify to continue taking off at 9:30am Monday and Wednesdays to go grab Leif from school (where he misses ultra-important calendar work) to drive across town for a half hour lesson, then drive back, deposit him back at school and run back to work and get there by 11am in order to further his tennis interest. Can I? I keep telling myself he is only 5 and 11/12th. There are going to be plenty of summers when I am clamoring for camps and such to enroll the kids in. He will probably get his fill of tennis then.
Soccer. Oh soccer, the most beloved of Leif sports. We do soccer through the YMCA in the summers as well as indoor soccer in the winter. And this year, given Leif’s enthusiasm over soccer, we have registered him for the competitive league that starts this fall. I think this officially makes me a soccer mom putting Leif in this league. Leif is all about soccer and during every recess at school he can be found on the soccer field. Daily he begs me to allow him to wear his cleats to school. Today he wanted to "just bring them in case" his teachers decide he can wear cleats on the playground. The boys cheer when he arrives in the morning and direct him to which team “needs help”. Leif very willingly complies because like his father, he likes to help the underdog. Not doing soccer? Not really an option unless I want one unhappy little boy.
I know people who slam sports, who think it ridiculous that we spend time running our kids around for sports practices and events. To each their own. Both AB and I were raised in families that prided physical activity. AB and his brothers were diehard swimmers. I was lucky, my mom worked at the YMCA and so I was able to take every single class I wanted to (hello disco dancing!) and my mom was lucky that she didn't have to pay for childcare.
I played volleyball and basketball from 5th grade through 9th grade, competed in track and field and competed in gymnastics through 10th grade, until I got an afterschool job instead. I ski both downhill and cross country, played tennis and racquetball (2nd in State Juniors in Wyoming), softball (which I absolutely despised though), swam and most recently ran (which I really need to get back to).
My parents taught me I could do anything and enabled me to pursue my interests. I wasn’t great at every sport, but I enjoyed them (except for softball) and learned the value of physical activity.
So when I run home from work on Monday and race to fix a quick dinner to eat on the run to soccer practice that starts at 6:15pm… yeah, it’s not ideal. But it’s the best we can do right now as working parents who are striving to enable their kids’ dreams. Not every child dreams about sports.
Mine does.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
June Goals Update
So you may recall that I took a low-key approach to getting back to my monthly goals. As the month is nearly 2/3 over, I thought I would update.
My plan was to copy my routinely used recipes onto recipe cards and put them in some sort of filing system. I bought a cute little cupcake binder with divider tabs (that I later discovered were all dessert oriented - lame). This weekend I picked up an inexpensive recipe box as another option. Those tabs were only slightly more useful lumping together "main dishes", for example. No breakfast tab, go figure.
I thought I would start this by keeping a stack of recipe cards on the counter. (Done) And then when I make a recipe from my scary folder of recipes, I would write it on the card as I made it. Slowly but surely this way I would work my way through the scary recipe folder.
It is the 22nd and so far I have written...
TWO recipes!
My Cajun Chicken Pasta recipe. Or I guess I should say Pioneer Woman's Cajun Chicken Pasta recipe (which is to die for).
As well as my puff pancake recipe.
Yay me!
Ok, so I suck.
This Friday when AB and I sit down to watch a movie on our brand new TV, I am bringing my scary recipe folder and cards over and I am getting busy.
But really, somewhat like my March goal with the cross stitching, a huge part of the goal is to set up "the system". Get the recipe cards, storage options and all and get them ready to fill so that when I have a recipe that is deserving of its very own card, it has a place to go! (Do not ask me how much of The Orange Tree I have cross stitched.)
July?
Decide on a color scheme for the front entryway/office/dining room part of the house. I didn't say act on this. Nope, no painting. Just decisions. And convincing my husband that *my* color scheme trumps anything that he may come up with in retort (because he never likes mine right off). Because he will do this. He fancies himself somewhat of a designer - but don't tell him I told you this.
My plan was to copy my routinely used recipes onto recipe cards and put them in some sort of filing system. I bought a cute little cupcake binder with divider tabs (that I later discovered were all dessert oriented - lame). This weekend I picked up an inexpensive recipe box as another option. Those tabs were only slightly more useful lumping together "main dishes", for example. No breakfast tab, go figure.
I thought I would start this by keeping a stack of recipe cards on the counter. (Done) And then when I make a recipe from my scary folder of recipes, I would write it on the card as I made it. Slowly but surely this way I would work my way through the scary recipe folder.
It is the 22nd and so far I have written...
TWO recipes!
My Cajun Chicken Pasta recipe. Or I guess I should say Pioneer Woman's Cajun Chicken Pasta recipe (which is to die for).
As well as my puff pancake recipe.
Yay me!
Ok, so I suck.
This Friday when AB and I sit down to watch a movie on our brand new TV, I am bringing my scary recipe folder and cards over and I am getting busy.
But really, somewhat like my March goal with the cross stitching, a huge part of the goal is to set up "the system". Get the recipe cards, storage options and all and get them ready to fill so that when I have a recipe that is deserving of its very own card, it has a place to go! (Do not ask me how much of The Orange Tree I have cross stitched.)
July?
Decide on a color scheme for the front entryway/office/dining room part of the house. I didn't say act on this. Nope, no painting. Just decisions. And convincing my husband that *my* color scheme trumps anything that he may come up with in retort (because he never likes mine right off). Because he will do this. He fancies himself somewhat of a designer - but don't tell him I told you this.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Aunt Annie's Alligator
I have lucked out - both my kids went through a "Dr Seuss's ABC's" phase. This was one of my favorite books as a child. I can recite it by heart.
But what I really love about this book is hearing Skadi's running commentary on every page.
Me: "Barber, Baby, Bubbles and a Bumble Bee"
Skadi: "Yeah, but bees sting."
Me: "Camel on the ceiling"
Skadi: "I want a camel on MY ceiling!"
Me: "Goat, girl, goo goo goggles"
Skadi: "I am a girl!"
Me: "Jerry Jordan's jelly jar - "
Skadi: "He made a big mess, look it's on the floor!"
Me: "Many mumbling mice - "
Skadi: "I don't like mice, turn the page." (This used to be one of my favorite pages!)
Me: "Nine new neckties, a nightshirt and a nose!"
Skadi: "I have a big nose!" (At this point I argue with her about the size of her nose. It is small.)
Me: "Painting pink pajamas, policeman in a pail, Peter Pepper's puppy, now papa's in the pail"
Skadi: "That's so silly, why are they in pails?!"
Me: "Rosy's going riding -"
Skadi: "NO! Say Skadi's going riding!"
Same thing with Young Yolanda... but by then I have remembered...
Me: "A yawning yellow yak, young Skadi is riding on his back!"
Skadi: (giggles)
Me: "A Zizzer Zazzer Zuzz as you can plainly see."
(This is where there are problems...)
Skadi: "What is a Zizzer? Does he bite? Why does she have long hair? Is she going to eat those childrens next to her? Why is she bigger? Does he bite? Why does he have teeth?"
It's a miracle I made it out of there!
But what I really love about this book is hearing Skadi's running commentary on every page.
Me: "Barber, Baby, Bubbles and a Bumble Bee"
Skadi: "Yeah, but bees sting."
Me: "Camel on the ceiling"
Skadi: "I want a camel on MY ceiling!"
Me: "Goat, girl, goo goo goggles"
Skadi: "I am a girl!"
Me: "Jerry Jordan's jelly jar - "
Skadi: "He made a big mess, look it's on the floor!"
Me: "Many mumbling mice - "
Skadi: "I don't like mice, turn the page." (This used to be one of my favorite pages!)
Me: "Nine new neckties, a nightshirt and a nose!"
Skadi: "I have a big nose!" (At this point I argue with her about the size of her nose. It is small.)
Me: "Painting pink pajamas, policeman in a pail, Peter Pepper's puppy, now papa's in the pail"
Skadi: "That's so silly, why are they in pails?!"
Me: "Rosy's going riding -"
Skadi: "NO! Say Skadi's going riding!"
Same thing with Young Yolanda... but by then I have remembered...
Me: "A yawning yellow yak, young Skadi is riding on his back!"
Skadi: (giggles)
Me: "A Zizzer Zazzer Zuzz as you can plainly see."
(This is where there are problems...)
Skadi: "What is a Zizzer? Does he bite? Why does she have long hair? Is she going to eat those childrens next to her? Why is she bigger? Does he bite? Why does he have teeth?"
It's a miracle I made it out of there!
Friday, June 18, 2010
I was chatting this evening on FB with a friend from high school. One thing we always had in common was a love for music. He told me what he was listening to right now - Sam Cooke - and because I am not a naive young teenager anymore afraid of not knowing something, I admitted that I wasn't familiar with him. My friend then typed "American Idol".
And fear set into my heart. Must change the subject.
And a whole new type of nervousness kicked in... the "I can't admit that I have never seen American Idol" type of nervousness.
Nope. It's true. Never seen American Idol.
I blogged recently about how AB and I have dropped off the face of the planet with respect to TV.
Thanks to Facebook I knew to set the Tivo for Top Chef - though I am certain that Rachel or Vanessa would have clued me in. I also knew that a new season of Entourage would be starting soon.
AB says we don't watch TV because we have a crappy CRT TV.
Yes, we do have a 12 year old or so CRT TV, but the thing works. And plus, we never watch it.
My mom was an avid TV watcher. And she admitted it proudly too - she loved watching TV. When I was a kid our evenings were filled with watching TV. Cosby Show, Different Strokes, Mork and Mindy, Dallas, Charlie's Angels... you name it, we were there.
After my mom passed away we opted to do a few things in her memory. One was to plant some roses in our garden and get a stepping stone to create a living memorial to her.
The other was to bite the bullet and buy a new TV. This one pleased my husband greatly. But really, last I saw my mom she said to me, "I don't understand, high def TV's just AREN'T that expensive anymore!" I didn't tell her we just never watched TV, though I think it was obvious when I hadn't seen any of the HGTV episodes and admitted to having never seen a long list of shows she watched.
So really, it was an appropriate thing to do.
AB researched what "we" wanted. And then one night a little over a week ago we sat down and placed the order for the top of the line, 50" Panasonic Plasma TV. And a blu ray. And a new receiver with DVR. And an articulating mounting arm.
We are going to get back on the TV bandwagon one way or another!!
We thought that was going to happen this weekend.
I came home over lunch today to receive this nice, nifty new TV from the shipping company that drove it over to our little town from "the west side".
They unloaded it, brought it in, unpacked it.
Then the driver sat shaking his head.
"It's broken," he announced.
"What?" I asked.
He beckoned me to the other side of the TV and there before me was a massive crack across the screen.
"Wow." I said.
"That's a shame," the driver said.
"Wow," I said.
The driver picked up his phone and called the distributing warehouse to tell them it was refused for the crack. He pointed to the Amazon.com number for me to call at the same time. I did, and told them it was refused.
They quickly credited the account, but told me since it was a third party seller fulfilled by Amazon I would have to go reorder it online, they could not simply replace it.
That... has proven more difficult than I anticipated since it appears that cracked TV may have been the last one on earth like it. Or at least the last one on earth for what my husband deemed to be an appropriate price to pay.
Ok, so back to the point. Appears our foray back into watching TV? Delayed.
But someday? I will know who Sam Cooke is, or what the flap is about Cougar Town, and I can even see myself delving into Pawn Stars. (Which is about as appropriate as my mom's love for "Ice Road Truckers".) Maybe I will return to getting my Adam and Jamie fix? Big Love was supposed to redeem me this past year and make me love TV again. Top Chef will make me want to go cook. What is going to make me want to waste my time in front of the TV instead of on the internet?
And fear set into my heart. Must change the subject.
And a whole new type of nervousness kicked in... the "I can't admit that I have never seen American Idol" type of nervousness.
Nope. It's true. Never seen American Idol.
I blogged recently about how AB and I have dropped off the face of the planet with respect to TV.
Thanks to Facebook I knew to set the Tivo for Top Chef - though I am certain that Rachel or Vanessa would have clued me in. I also knew that a new season of Entourage would be starting soon.
AB says we don't watch TV because we have a crappy CRT TV.
Yes, we do have a 12 year old or so CRT TV, but the thing works. And plus, we never watch it.
My mom was an avid TV watcher. And she admitted it proudly too - she loved watching TV. When I was a kid our evenings were filled with watching TV. Cosby Show, Different Strokes, Mork and Mindy, Dallas, Charlie's Angels... you name it, we were there.
After my mom passed away we opted to do a few things in her memory. One was to plant some roses in our garden and get a stepping stone to create a living memorial to her.
The other was to bite the bullet and buy a new TV. This one pleased my husband greatly. But really, last I saw my mom she said to me, "I don't understand, high def TV's just AREN'T that expensive anymore!" I didn't tell her we just never watched TV, though I think it was obvious when I hadn't seen any of the HGTV episodes and admitted to having never seen a long list of shows she watched.
So really, it was an appropriate thing to do.
AB researched what "we" wanted. And then one night a little over a week ago we sat down and placed the order for the top of the line, 50" Panasonic Plasma TV. And a blu ray. And a new receiver with DVR. And an articulating mounting arm.
We are going to get back on the TV bandwagon one way or another!!
We thought that was going to happen this weekend.
I came home over lunch today to receive this nice, nifty new TV from the shipping company that drove it over to our little town from "the west side".
They unloaded it, brought it in, unpacked it.
Then the driver sat shaking his head.
"It's broken," he announced.
"What?" I asked.
He beckoned me to the other side of the TV and there before me was a massive crack across the screen.
"Wow." I said.
"That's a shame," the driver said.
"Wow," I said.
The driver picked up his phone and called the distributing warehouse to tell them it was refused for the crack. He pointed to the Amazon.com number for me to call at the same time. I did, and told them it was refused.
They quickly credited the account, but told me since it was a third party seller fulfilled by Amazon I would have to go reorder it online, they could not simply replace it.
That... has proven more difficult than I anticipated since it appears that cracked TV may have been the last one on earth like it. Or at least the last one on earth for what my husband deemed to be an appropriate price to pay.
Ok, so back to the point. Appears our foray back into watching TV? Delayed.
But someday? I will know who Sam Cooke is, or what the flap is about Cougar Town, and I can even see myself delving into Pawn Stars. (Which is about as appropriate as my mom's love for "Ice Road Truckers".) Maybe I will return to getting my Adam and Jamie fix? Big Love was supposed to redeem me this past year and make me love TV again. Top Chef will make me want to go cook. What is going to make me want to waste my time in front of the TV instead of on the internet?
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
The really weird things my kids say
Skadi: "See I am happy now, I am not sad anymore. Instead I am just looking outside and thinking about how weird the trees are!"
Me: "Ok, why are the trees weird?"
Skadi: "The purple trees are weird mommy. We have lots of weird purple trees."
---------
Making his Daddy Proud
Leif: (While shopping for Father's Day Cards) "LOOK MOM! PRINCE NOVAMA! PRINCE NOVAMA IS ON THAT CARD! THAT FATHER'S DAY CARD HAS PRINCE NOVAMA!" (Seriously like top of the lungs in the crowded Father's Day aisle. I see people craning their necks to see what he is pointing at.)
Me: "Leif, it's President Obama, we have President's, not Prince's and that probably is NOT a good card to get your father."
----------
Leif: (speaking to me) "Hey babe,"
Me: "Hey babe? What happened to mommy?"
Leif: "You're a babe!"
Me: "You should know that I may choose to remind you of this when you are 16."
Me: "Ok, why are the trees weird?"
Skadi: "The purple trees are weird mommy. We have lots of weird purple trees."
---------
Making his Daddy Proud
Leif: (While shopping for Father's Day Cards) "LOOK MOM! PRINCE NOVAMA! PRINCE NOVAMA IS ON THAT CARD! THAT FATHER'S DAY CARD HAS PRINCE NOVAMA!" (Seriously like top of the lungs in the crowded Father's Day aisle. I see people craning their necks to see what he is pointing at.)
Me: "Leif, it's President Obama, we have President's, not Prince's and that probably is NOT a good card to get your father."
----------
Leif: (speaking to me) "Hey babe,"
Me: "Hey babe? What happened to mommy?"
Leif: "You're a babe!"
Me: "You should know that I may choose to remind you of this when you are 16."
Sunday, June 13, 2010
The dreaded sleepover party
When I was in first grade my parents invited all the little girls in my class over for a sleepover.
A few went home, my parents called their parents when the girls didn't stop crying.
At least one wet the bed - or the floor - given that we were all in sleeping bags on the floor.
Who knows when we all went to sleep.
And my parents made pancakes for what seemed like hours the next morning.
When it was all over they sighed that it would never happen again. And it didn't. My sister never had her sleepover party.
Sure we would have sleepovers, but these were individual girls and never a sleepover party.
So why I didn't just immediately say "no way Jose" when Leif started talking about a sleepover party, I have no idea. I did say, at the time, well you have to pick 3 kids at the most IF we did that. Trying to play to the notion that he would only get three gifts. Is it awful of me to do that?
What I really should have said was the thing that my friends told their daughter, "nope, you can have a sleepover when you are 7, we can start planning it now".
Leif's proposed guest list has included two of his close female friends. I told him that I was pretty sure that their mommies were not going to allow them to spend the night with four little boys.
"No mom," he replied, "we are big boys."
"Well that just bolsters their case," I told him.
Nope. I didn't think way back when the topic first came up. And so now we are feeling a bit stuck. And yes, I do get that I AM the parent and can just say no. And we tried that.
"Leif," I said, "daddy and I just don't think you are old enough to have a sleepover party."
"I really think that I disagree with you,"he replied, or something like that. His exact words are evading me, but AB and I both sat there looking at each other wondering if he was 5 going on 17.
Yes, I could just say no. But it is hard when he has his heart set on something so strongly.
I have been working to entice him away from his plans for weeks. After the party at Coach Brett's (that was always a very exciting thing when he was littler) a week ago, that he had loads of fun at, I pushed the issue. "Are you sure you don't want a Coach Brett birthday party?"
He looked at me like I was an idiot.
I suggested Rollerena, which was the leading candidate last October thru December, despite the fact that Leif isn't so hot on rollerskates. At the time I was a bit turned off by the notion, but somewhat entertained as I heard "Skateaway" in my head as I whizzed around the rink.
Rollerena is no longer a candidate, despite my mentioning a few times, "but they have air hockey!"
Friends have made suggestions, what about the Children's Theater? The Court Club?
Then I hit on an idea.
"How about Chuck E. Cheese?" I heard myself mentioning to AB one evening.
"Fine," AB said.
So today Aunt Tara and I packed the kids up and headed to Chuck E. Cheese to test the waters.
This is a huge accomplishment for me. I don't do Chuck E. Cheese. See this happened while I was in Colorado and for some reason it hit me then like a ton of bricks. And I never set foot in Chuck E. Cheese again and I cringed whenever anyone suggested taking the kids there.
So it was a huge step forward for me to walk through the door and get my and the kids hands stamped (so that when a child leaves, they make sure it belongs to the person the child is leaving with). Right there? Big red flag, that I am sure is supposed to make me feel better...
We got a pizza, we spent our 35 tokens (about 6 put into games that didn't work). And I told myself I could do this. I can do this. I can host a Chuck E. Cheese party and no crazed gunman is going to come in. Really.
We left after the kids redeemed their 60 tickets for a pink plastic ring, a tiny rubber snack and three lollipops. Total ripoff.
But I told myself I could do this. I can bite the bullet and send out Chuck E. Cheese invites.
Then tonite we set to talking about the options.
And Leif says, "no, I really just want to have a Wii sleepover party with three boys."
Ok. Fine. Done.
I am getting off cheap this year. The cost this year will be a mere one sleepless night.
(Wondering how much I can pay Aunt Tara to hang out downstairs with the boys and get them to bed while I snuggle in my nice bed?)
A few went home, my parents called their parents when the girls didn't stop crying.
At least one wet the bed - or the floor - given that we were all in sleeping bags on the floor.
Who knows when we all went to sleep.
And my parents made pancakes for what seemed like hours the next morning.
When it was all over they sighed that it would never happen again. And it didn't. My sister never had her sleepover party.
Sure we would have sleepovers, but these were individual girls and never a sleepover party.
So why I didn't just immediately say "no way Jose" when Leif started talking about a sleepover party, I have no idea. I did say, at the time, well you have to pick 3 kids at the most IF we did that. Trying to play to the notion that he would only get three gifts. Is it awful of me to do that?
What I really should have said was the thing that my friends told their daughter, "nope, you can have a sleepover when you are 7, we can start planning it now".
Leif's proposed guest list has included two of his close female friends. I told him that I was pretty sure that their mommies were not going to allow them to spend the night with four little boys.
"No mom," he replied, "we are big boys."
"Well that just bolsters their case," I told him.
Nope. I didn't think way back when the topic first came up. And so now we are feeling a bit stuck. And yes, I do get that I AM the parent and can just say no. And we tried that.
"Leif," I said, "daddy and I just don't think you are old enough to have a sleepover party."
"I really think that I disagree with you,"he replied, or something like that. His exact words are evading me, but AB and I both sat there looking at each other wondering if he was 5 going on 17.
Yes, I could just say no. But it is hard when he has his heart set on something so strongly.
I have been working to entice him away from his plans for weeks. After the party at Coach Brett's (that was always a very exciting thing when he was littler) a week ago, that he had loads of fun at, I pushed the issue. "Are you sure you don't want a Coach Brett birthday party?"
He looked at me like I was an idiot.
I suggested Rollerena, which was the leading candidate last October thru December, despite the fact that Leif isn't so hot on rollerskates. At the time I was a bit turned off by the notion, but somewhat entertained as I heard "Skateaway" in my head as I whizzed around the rink.
Rollerena is no longer a candidate, despite my mentioning a few times, "but they have air hockey!"
Friends have made suggestions, what about the Children's Theater? The Court Club?
Then I hit on an idea.
"How about Chuck E. Cheese?" I heard myself mentioning to AB one evening.
"Fine," AB said.
So today Aunt Tara and I packed the kids up and headed to Chuck E. Cheese to test the waters.
This is a huge accomplishment for me. I don't do Chuck E. Cheese. See this happened while I was in Colorado and for some reason it hit me then like a ton of bricks. And I never set foot in Chuck E. Cheese again and I cringed whenever anyone suggested taking the kids there.
So it was a huge step forward for me to walk through the door and get my and the kids hands stamped (so that when a child leaves, they make sure it belongs to the person the child is leaving with). Right there? Big red flag, that I am sure is supposed to make me feel better...
We got a pizza, we spent our 35 tokens (about 6 put into games that didn't work). And I told myself I could do this. I can do this. I can host a Chuck E. Cheese party and no crazed gunman is going to come in. Really.
We left after the kids redeemed their 60 tickets for a pink plastic ring, a tiny rubber snack and three lollipops. Total ripoff.
But I told myself I could do this. I can bite the bullet and send out Chuck E. Cheese invites.
Then tonite we set to talking about the options.
And Leif says, "no, I really just want to have a Wii sleepover party with three boys."
Ok. Fine. Done.
I am getting off cheap this year. The cost this year will be a mere one sleepless night.
(Wondering how much I can pay Aunt Tara to hang out downstairs with the boys and get them to bed while I snuggle in my nice bed?)
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
Funnies
Leif,
Ken Yokum to birt.
Love, Cate
Poo
Translation:
Leif,
Can you come to my birthday?
Very sincerely, Cate
9:00am
-----------------------
Ponies
AB has a habit of saying, "well I want a pony" whenever the kids ask for something unreasonable, which is most of the time.
And for the record, he does not want a pony. Neither of us really cares for horses and most definitely has no desire to own a horse.
Skadi: "I want that toy!"
AB: "Yeah, well I want a pony."
Skadi: "Daddy, you do NOT have long hair."
----------------------------
In the car on the way home.
Leif: "Mommy, I have been waking up at night and I am SURE that Mina is checking in on me and tickling my feet!"
(Mina is the Elf that checks up on the kids every Christmas and reports their behavior to Santa.)
Skadi: "Me too! Mina has been coming to my room too and tickling my feet!"
Noted that it is nearly 6 months till Christmas... I am thinking Mina may pop in for a visit!
Ken Yokum to birt.
Love, Cate
Poo
Translation:
Leif,
Can you come to my birthday?
Very sincerely, Cate
9:00am
-----------------------
Ponies
AB has a habit of saying, "well I want a pony" whenever the kids ask for something unreasonable, which is most of the time.
And for the record, he does not want a pony. Neither of us really cares for horses and most definitely has no desire to own a horse.
Skadi: "I want that toy!"
AB: "Yeah, well I want a pony."
Skadi: "Daddy, you do NOT have long hair."
----------------------------
In the car on the way home.
Leif: "Mommy, I have been waking up at night and I am SURE that Mina is checking in on me and tickling my feet!"
(Mina is the Elf that checks up on the kids every Christmas and reports their behavior to Santa.)
Skadi: "Me too! Mina has been coming to my room too and tickling my feet!"
Noted that it is nearly 6 months till Christmas... I am thinking Mina may pop in for a visit!
A most difficult topic
One of the single hardest things in dealing with my mom's death has been in regards to my kids. Death is just not an easy subject to get, like at all, for the younger set.
When AB and I told Skadi that grandma died, she looked at us and said she wanted to go play with her dollhouse. We didn't expect much more, but still felt the need to say it to her.
Leif was a different story. He knew for months that something was up. We said daily prayers for grandma, we talked about her being sick and late in the process we admitted that grandma probably was not going to get better and was probably going to die. He sobbed and sobbed one evening that he didn't want grandma to die.
Neither did I, sweet boy.
When I had kids I never gave it a thought that my mom would not be here to share them with me. We live far away from family, but somehow my mom always made it closer between webcam sessions, visits and little packages that would arrive for every holiday and some non-holidays as well.
I lost my grandfather when I was 13 years old. At that age I well understood the concept of death and that my grandfather had been sick for a decade with congestive heart failure and diabetes. No one was terribly surprised when he passed away at 72.
Surprisingly it has been Skadi who has been stuck on the topic of grandma passing away the last week. Nearly every time we have been in the car she immediately starts asking questions.
And not all of them are easy to answer.
"Where did grandma die?" (This one is easy, she died in Colorado at the hospital.)
"Where is grandma now?" (She is in heaven with God.)
"Like Jesus?" (Yes, I guess like Jesus. Though Leif reminded us that grandma did not die on the cross like Jesus did.)
"Where is heaven?" (Umm, way way high up in the sky, where she, God and Jesus can watch over you.)
"Is she on top of the clouds?" (I believe she is on top of the clouds.)
"Can we visit her on the airplane?" (No.)
"When is she coming home?" (She isn't coming home.)
"When will she come see us?" (She isn't going to come see us anymore.)
"Why not?" (Because she died, like how flowers die and turn brown, or like if you step on an ant and it is dead. Realizing of course that now she is going to think that grandma was stepped on...)
"Did grandma die?" (Yes honey, grandma died. Here we go again.)
My stepdad picked up some materials from Hospice to help with explaining death to kids this age. I get the whole keep it simple thing. But I suck at that. I tend to take things to a complicated level - more complicated than it needs be level - very quickly.
I ordered about four books today from the extensive list that Hospice provided after studying the Amazon ratings trying to find books that jive with our beliefs. Customer ratings can be a wonderful thing... or they can really suck up your time and make you a neurotic consumer.
This evening I asked Leif to say prayers. For the second night in a row he declined. "I don't have any prayers tonight," he told me.
"Sure you do," I said. "Think about prayers about keeping everyone healthy, or helping us all be happy, or being with grandma in heaven." I listed the options off.
"I am tired of sad prayers mommy," he mumbled to me half asleep.
"Then how about a happy prayer," I said and quickly tried to come up with a happy prayer. What exactly is a happy prayer? I have my own belief on the things that we should and should not pray for. And I am not sure what it stems out of. But in the moment I could only think of one thing that so violated my thought of what prayers should be about.
"Pray to God that you get some nice things for your birthday," I said to him.
And he did.
When AB and I told Skadi that grandma died, she looked at us and said she wanted to go play with her dollhouse. We didn't expect much more, but still felt the need to say it to her.
Leif was a different story. He knew for months that something was up. We said daily prayers for grandma, we talked about her being sick and late in the process we admitted that grandma probably was not going to get better and was probably going to die. He sobbed and sobbed one evening that he didn't want grandma to die.
Neither did I, sweet boy.
When my mom died we sat Leif down and told him. His first response was an angered, "I wish she would have washed her hands." Because no matter how many times I have tried to explain the difference between a communicable disease and non-communicable disease, he just hasn't gotten it. "But my teacher said that handwashing prevents diseases!" He tells me. I can't caveat it because that isn't what his teacher says.
And I am resisting the urge to talk to the teachers about specifying the difference between diseases we catch through germs and those that arise from different sources. Because I see how this can quickly become complicated to 3-6 year olds.
Leif has handled it quite well to this point and tends to tell us that "but it is okay, because she is with God and she isn't in pain." And at Sunday school the other day when Skadi started talking about grandma dying, he was quick to explain "well she had this disease".
When I had kids I never gave it a thought that my mom would not be here to share them with me. We live far away from family, but somehow my mom always made it closer between webcam sessions, visits and little packages that would arrive for every holiday and some non-holidays as well.
I lost my grandfather when I was 13 years old. At that age I well understood the concept of death and that my grandfather had been sick for a decade with congestive heart failure and diabetes. No one was terribly surprised when he passed away at 72.
Surprisingly it has been Skadi who has been stuck on the topic of grandma passing away the last week. Nearly every time we have been in the car she immediately starts asking questions.
And not all of them are easy to answer.
"Where did grandma die?" (This one is easy, she died in Colorado at the hospital.)
"Where is grandma now?" (She is in heaven with God.)
"Like Jesus?" (Yes, I guess like Jesus. Though Leif reminded us that grandma did not die on the cross like Jesus did.)
"Where is heaven?" (Umm, way way high up in the sky, where she, God and Jesus can watch over you.)
"Is she on top of the clouds?" (I believe she is on top of the clouds.)
"Can we visit her on the airplane?" (No.)
"When is she coming home?" (She isn't coming home.)
"When will she come see us?" (She isn't going to come see us anymore.)
"Why not?" (Because she died, like how flowers die and turn brown, or like if you step on an ant and it is dead. Realizing of course that now she is going to think that grandma was stepped on...)
"Did grandma die?" (Yes honey, grandma died. Here we go again.)
My stepdad picked up some materials from Hospice to help with explaining death to kids this age. I get the whole keep it simple thing. But I suck at that. I tend to take things to a complicated level - more complicated than it needs be level - very quickly.
I ordered about four books today from the extensive list that Hospice provided after studying the Amazon ratings trying to find books that jive with our beliefs. Customer ratings can be a wonderful thing... or they can really suck up your time and make you a neurotic consumer.
This evening I asked Leif to say prayers. For the second night in a row he declined. "I don't have any prayers tonight," he told me.
"Sure you do," I said. "Think about prayers about keeping everyone healthy, or helping us all be happy, or being with grandma in heaven." I listed the options off.
"I am tired of sad prayers mommy," he mumbled to me half asleep.
"Then how about a happy prayer," I said and quickly tried to come up with a happy prayer. What exactly is a happy prayer? I have my own belief on the things that we should and should not pray for. And I am not sure what it stems out of. But in the moment I could only think of one thing that so violated my thought of what prayers should be about.
"Pray to God that you get some nice things for your birthday," I said to him.
And he did.
Monday, June 07, 2010
Getting back to it
That is my goal for the month of June. I need to get back to working out every morning. I need to get back to eating well - okay, so I always eat "well". What I really mean is that I need to work at eating healthy and not snacking. (I truly do not know why those Cheez-It Duos beckon me like they do.)
I have added only one June monthly goal on top of this.
And I think it is an easy one. A good one for easing back into life as normal.
I need to organize my recipes.
I love recipes.
I tear them out of magazines, I print them up on the computer, I have e-mails from friends with recipes. I really love recipes.
What I don't love is the big vinyl folder that I keep them all in. I flip through page after page vaguely remembering if the recipe I am seeking is on a printer page or on a half magazine page with or without a picture. No organization whatsoever.
I also have a big binder of recipes sorted in pockets by type of food. It was a good organizational tactic, until I got the vinyl folder for "everyday" recipes.
Oh and did I mention there is a drawer in my coffee table with recipes?
And I also tried the journal book with the names of recipes and online sources. (Flop.)
Bookmarking is a good option... if I know exactly what I am looking for.
So the plan is that when I make a recipe that I have made more than once and know I will make again, to pull out a recipe card and write it up on the card as I make it. Then I toss the sheet of paper and file the card in a recipe binder that I bought today.
I bought a cute little cupcake recipe binder, only to get it home and realize that all the tabs are for desserts.
And well, desserts? I have a repertoire of like 5.
My mom's rhubarb custard pie, my mom's chocolate cake, nectarine pie, the chocolate chip cookie recipe on the back of the Nestle bag and my great grandmother's sugar cookie recipe.
I don't need tabs for those.
AB suggested I just "cross them out and write over them". My sister in law said I could print up little labels on the computer and then cut to fit the tab so it looks neater.
Guess who is more in tune with me? Yes, it bothers me that the tabs are wrong, therefore I need a solution that isn't "cross it out"!
So there it is. My monthly goals for June. Exercise. Quit snacking. Pay attention to portions. Consider rerererecommitting to Weight Watchers.
And deal with the disorganization that is my vast collection of recipes.
I have added only one June monthly goal on top of this.
And I think it is an easy one. A good one for easing back into life as normal.
I need to organize my recipes.
I love recipes.
I tear them out of magazines, I print them up on the computer, I have e-mails from friends with recipes. I really love recipes.
What I don't love is the big vinyl folder that I keep them all in. I flip through page after page vaguely remembering if the recipe I am seeking is on a printer page or on a half magazine page with or without a picture. No organization whatsoever.
I also have a big binder of recipes sorted in pockets by type of food. It was a good organizational tactic, until I got the vinyl folder for "everyday" recipes.
Oh and did I mention there is a drawer in my coffee table with recipes?
And I also tried the journal book with the names of recipes and online sources. (Flop.)
Bookmarking is a good option... if I know exactly what I am looking for.
So the plan is that when I make a recipe that I have made more than once and know I will make again, to pull out a recipe card and write it up on the card as I make it. Then I toss the sheet of paper and file the card in a recipe binder that I bought today.
I bought a cute little cupcake recipe binder, only to get it home and realize that all the tabs are for desserts.
And well, desserts? I have a repertoire of like 5.
My mom's rhubarb custard pie, my mom's chocolate cake, nectarine pie, the chocolate chip cookie recipe on the back of the Nestle bag and my great grandmother's sugar cookie recipe.
I don't need tabs for those.
AB suggested I just "cross them out and write over them". My sister in law said I could print up little labels on the computer and then cut to fit the tab so it looks neater.
Guess who is more in tune with me? Yes, it bothers me that the tabs are wrong, therefore I need a solution that isn't "cross it out"!
So there it is. My monthly goals for June. Exercise. Quit snacking. Pay attention to portions. Consider rerererecommitting to Weight Watchers.
And deal with the disorganization that is my vast collection of recipes.
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