Me: "Leif, you scare the bejesus out of me sometimes!"
Leif: "You have Jesus's in you that are leaving?"
Me: "No, bejesus."
Leif: "What is that?"
Me: "Ummm... ummm... ummm..."
Leif: "Is it like your taste buds?"
Me: "Ok sure, like your taste buds."
Leif: "I am going to scare your taste buds out of you!!"
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Coach Nuclear Mom?
I am always pushing my poor husband to coach sports teams. He actually does pretty well at it and despite his complaining I am SURE that he enjoys it.
Now that we have two children that are team sports ages it is hard to balance the obligations that team sports bring. It is easier when only one child wants to play a sport, but when they both want to... just scary.
With the YMCA sports, I like that the practices and games during the summer are actually during the week leaving weekends open. However, there is a huge demand for teams and always wait lists for the sports. You often end up taking what you can get as a parent. Two kids and you are potentially looking at 4 nights of sports a week!
Now if you are a volunteer coach... things loosen up substantially!
This was my thought. AB coaches Leif's soccer team, I coach Skadi's and between us we coordinate the practices and games. This has actually worked out quite successfully and we ended up with a number of other siblings on our teams as well as parents who have suddenly clung to us with frequent statements and e-mails of "let's do this again, let us know when you are coaching other teams!"
But can I just say that I am just not a natural coach?
Nope. Really not.
Of course my age group (3-4 year olds) makes my role feel substantially more like "preschool teacher" or "cat herder" or "zoo keeper" than "coach".
My husband gets to maintain the coach title. Not me.
Luckily I went into this with an enthusiastic co-coach who has not only picked up my slack but run with it and has had incredible commitment to the team and quite possibly more natural preschool teacher/cat herder/zoo keeper in him than I do.
I have complained a few times about parents on sports teams and I am quite sure that at least on one occasion, my husband was viewed as "one of those parents".
One more week left and really it was fun. Do it again? Unlikely. I am happy to think that my son is getting to the age and ability that his next coach needs to be someone with more than recreational commitment, which means that AB is already talking about coaching Skadi's team. Which means I should be off the hook, right??
Here are my issues...
First off I suck at Arts and Crafts and cutey things. What does this have to do with soccer? In baseball the coach (also a kindergarten teacher...) had cute little foam seat pads for the kids to sit on and every time she brought snacks it had pencils and ribbons and fancy name writing. Little pails for the kids all decorated at the end of the season.
Me? I have intentions... but I secretly comfort myself knowing that the baseball pail is lying at the bottom of he toy box stripped of its decorations...
The parents. Seriously parents. I am not your babysitter. When your child quits running off the field for the play area? That's when you get to sit in your comfy chair in the shade sipping whatever beverage of choice you might have in your Sigg. Yes, I know, my daughter is as bad as everyone else at kicking and chasing the ball 100 yards off the field... but I am out there to chase her! When I invite the parents out on the field to help steer their kids, I am serious. As in "get out here now".
Commitments. Just my feelings I suppose, but when you commit to bringing snack, being at a game, or any other plans for the team, I expect there to be some carry through. Because really, a game without snacks at the end just really, really sucks for the kids. I gave you my cell and e-mail for a reason.
I had one parent this time around with children on each my husband's and my team. She couldn't get her children out on the field. After trying for 5 minutes each night, two nights in a row, she stated to her kids, "ok, you can either go out on the field or we can go get ice cream instead, your choice".
Umm gee, what would you choose? Any surprise that neither of the kids attended more than those two nights? But of course she signed up for snacks... for both teams... which now I get to cover... while she enjoys her ice cream...
Anyways... no it wasn't all bad. I met some terrific and fun kids. I practiced my preschool teacher skills just in case this whole Ph.D. scientist thing doesn't work out. I got out and ran with the kids. I held lots of hands on the field and was the recipient of many "flowers" from the field from my kids. I got lots of hugs. I got to play the role of "monkey bars" for the kids. My kids got to win (frequently thanks to one little Beckham on my team).
Naw, it wasn't all bad. Afterall, its making it an experience for the kids.
(Maybe my tags should be a hint... when I type "Coach" in I get "purse"...)
Now that we have two children that are team sports ages it is hard to balance the obligations that team sports bring. It is easier when only one child wants to play a sport, but when they both want to... just scary.
With the YMCA sports, I like that the practices and games during the summer are actually during the week leaving weekends open. However, there is a huge demand for teams and always wait lists for the sports. You often end up taking what you can get as a parent. Two kids and you are potentially looking at 4 nights of sports a week!
Now if you are a volunteer coach... things loosen up substantially!
This was my thought. AB coaches Leif's soccer team, I coach Skadi's and between us we coordinate the practices and games. This has actually worked out quite successfully and we ended up with a number of other siblings on our teams as well as parents who have suddenly clung to us with frequent statements and e-mails of "let's do this again, let us know when you are coaching other teams!"
But can I just say that I am just not a natural coach?
Nope. Really not.
Of course my age group (3-4 year olds) makes my role feel substantially more like "preschool teacher" or "cat herder" or "zoo keeper" than "coach".
My husband gets to maintain the coach title. Not me.
Luckily I went into this with an enthusiastic co-coach who has not only picked up my slack but run with it and has had incredible commitment to the team and quite possibly more natural preschool teacher/cat herder/zoo keeper in him than I do.
I have complained a few times about parents on sports teams and I am quite sure that at least on one occasion, my husband was viewed as "one of those parents".
One more week left and really it was fun. Do it again? Unlikely. I am happy to think that my son is getting to the age and ability that his next coach needs to be someone with more than recreational commitment, which means that AB is already talking about coaching Skadi's team. Which means I should be off the hook, right??
Here are my issues...
First off I suck at Arts and Crafts and cutey things. What does this have to do with soccer? In baseball the coach (also a kindergarten teacher...) had cute little foam seat pads for the kids to sit on and every time she brought snacks it had pencils and ribbons and fancy name writing. Little pails for the kids all decorated at the end of the season.
Me? I have intentions... but I secretly comfort myself knowing that the baseball pail is lying at the bottom of he toy box stripped of its decorations...
The parents. Seriously parents. I am not your babysitter. When your child quits running off the field for the play area? That's when you get to sit in your comfy chair in the shade sipping whatever beverage of choice you might have in your Sigg. Yes, I know, my daughter is as bad as everyone else at kicking and chasing the ball 100 yards off the field... but I am out there to chase her! When I invite the parents out on the field to help steer their kids, I am serious. As in "get out here now".
Commitments. Just my feelings I suppose, but when you commit to bringing snack, being at a game, or any other plans for the team, I expect there to be some carry through. Because really, a game without snacks at the end just really, really sucks for the kids. I gave you my cell and e-mail for a reason.
I had one parent this time around with children on each my husband's and my team. She couldn't get her children out on the field. After trying for 5 minutes each night, two nights in a row, she stated to her kids, "ok, you can either go out on the field or we can go get ice cream instead, your choice".
Umm gee, what would you choose? Any surprise that neither of the kids attended more than those two nights? But of course she signed up for snacks... for both teams... which now I get to cover... while she enjoys her ice cream...
Anyways... no it wasn't all bad. I met some terrific and fun kids. I practiced my preschool teacher skills just in case this whole Ph.D. scientist thing doesn't work out. I got out and ran with the kids. I held lots of hands on the field and was the recipient of many "flowers" from the field from my kids. I got lots of hugs. I got to play the role of "monkey bars" for the kids. My kids got to win (frequently thanks to one little Beckham on my team).
Naw, it wasn't all bad. Afterall, its making it an experience for the kids.
(Maybe my tags should be a hint... when I type "Coach" in I get "purse"...)
Etiquette
Me: "Leif this afternoon when Auntie Melissa gave you a gift, I wasn't happy with the way you said, 'oh, I hope it is a Wii game!' That is impolite and can make the other person feel bad."
Leif: (Looking at me blankly.) "But I liked the book a lot mom!"
Me: "I know. But ok, think of it this way, if you drew me a special picture and wrapped it up and gave it to me because you knew I would like it and I said, 'oh, I hope it is a diamond ring!' How would you feel?"
Leif: "Bad."
Me: "See what I mean. You can hurt someone's feelings by assuming the gift is something that it isn't."
Leif: "But what if it was a drawing of a diamond ring?"
Sigh.
Leif"
Leif: (Looking at me blankly.) "But I liked the book a lot mom!"
Me: "I know. But ok, think of it this way, if you drew me a special picture and wrapped it up and gave it to me because you knew I would like it and I said, 'oh, I hope it is a diamond ring!' How would you feel?"
Leif: "Bad."
Me: "See what I mean. You can hurt someone's feelings by assuming the gift is something that it isn't."
Leif: "But what if it was a drawing of a diamond ring?"
Sigh.
Leif"
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Well Uff-Da
This morning the phone rang. It was one of my uncles. I don't hear from my mom's brothers except in times of crises. I knew what the phone call was about. As did my sister who received a similar call and immediately assumed the worst.
My 87 year old grandmother, Shirley Jeanne Perchert Walker, passed away last night.
Over the last year my grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimers, moved into a full time care facility, had three major surgeries (broken femur, blood infection and colon resection) and we all knew we were losing her both mentally and physically.
My grandmother was born in 1923 in Cooperstown, North Dakota to Hanna and Albert Perchert. She had two older brothers: Dale and Albert Jr (Bud) (both deceased when I was in my teens and early 20's). Copperstown was a very, very small Norwegian farming community where she claimed being related to half the town. She grew up on a farm through the Great Depression where as she put it, they didn't have much, but they had food. They did better than much of the rest of the US during this time. My great grandmother had three younger children later - Charles (Chucky), Naomi and Bonnie - all of whom are still living.
While my grandmother was in high school she also taught school and once graduated she went to teach full time "until she found a husband". About that time, my great grandparents decided to give up the farming life and took the younger three children to the Bay area. My uncle Dale took over the farm and remained close with my grandmother. Uncle Bud moved to California and I am in contact with his daughter Mickey on a somewhat regular basis. The younger siblings I only knew in passing. I got to know Chucky when we lived in Reno and he lived and worked nearby.
After a year or so of teaching high school my grandmother decided to enroll in the Army Nurse Cadet program and she was sent to Spokane, WA for her training at Deaconess Hospital.
As I grew older my grandmother would tell me how they were "the wild bunch" at Deaconess and how she and her roommate had one of the only rooms with a window and they used to sneak their girlfriends in and out of the room to meet the soldiers stationed at the base up near Spokane.
My grandmother spent time in LaGrande, OR doing her nurses training as well. She was nearing the day to be shipped overseas when the announcement came that the war was over.
My grandmother packed up and moved to Seattle, WA where she worked in a hospital. She took up flirting with an ambulance driver who relieved the elevator operator for his lunch. My grandmother tells of making excuses to ride up and down the elevator to be with the man who was nearly 15 years her senior.
The story between Seattle to Casper, WY is foggy. She at one point admitted to me that she left Seattle for Casper when she was pregnant (unmarried) and didn't know what to do. The man she had met in the elevator wasn't sure what he wanted to do and was not supportive of the pregnancy. She up and left and arrived in Casper, WY and moved in with a girl she knew from nurses training, started working at the local hospital and started attending the Seventh Day Adventist church.
A few months Eugene Lemuel Walker showed up. There was a wedding. And a few months later my uncle David was born.
My grandfather was born in backwoods Arkansas to a native American woman named Rose Hawk in the early part of the century. He managed to attend school through the second grade.
He had done odd jobs throughout his life to this point and decided that he would attend barber school. The school requested his transcript and he lied, telling them the school burnt down. He went to barber school, opened a barber shop in downtown Casper where he worked as long as his health allowed him. During the last 10 years of his life he was largely confined to the house and struggled with heart and lung problems and not to mention diabetes. He passed away in 1985.
Jeanne and Eugene had four children; David, Michael, Barbara and Robert. It was a volatile family life with alcoholism and lots of yelling. My grandparents had warm, but hard hearts. I used to play Yahtzee with my grandmother, we would sit at the kitchen table and she had this old yellow plastic cup she would roll her dice with. And she would shake and shake that cup. Then my grandfather would start yelling, "think you need to roll those God-damned any louder?" And my grandmother would grin. And her next turn she would shake them even louder and longer. Then my grandfather would start cussing under his breath. When someone bought my grandmother a padded dice cup it was supposed to heal the marriage.
My Yahtzee experiences I expect were only the tip of the iceburg with their 40-some year marriage, but said so much about those 40 years.
My grandmother worked nights as a nurse at the hospital and my grandfather was a barber.
In 1972 her first grandchild was born. That would be me.
I spent days with my grandmother while my mom attended the community college to get her AA degree. My grandmother and I were fast friends. Best of buddies. I spent loads of time at her house growing up. We had all our holidays together. She was my Bonka.
My grandmother was never one to smooth things over. She didn't hide her feelings or thoughts. And many people were hurt from this. Many family members. My grandmother told me one day, "people try to pretend like it isn't true, but your first is always your favorite. My first child was my favorite and my first grandchild was my favorite." She didn't have to say this, we all knew it was true, unfortunately. She tuned out with my little sister and her oldest son could do no wrong, but the other three struggled to live up despite one going to medical school and one becoming a small business owner of a contract research lab doing research for the giant firms. In this regard, I feel sorry for my grandmother, because she failed to look beyond her feelings to discover the beauty of the other children and adults in the family. I worked so hard to make up for her shortcomings with my sister, but I was hiding nothing from her.
I find it interesting that my sister was the one that was really thoroughly left on the sidelines with regards to my grandmother, but in the last year, my sister is the one who saw her most as she went to the home and visited her regularly in every hospital. I want to say I would have done the same thing in her shoes... but I admit I have not taken those steps with my father's mom.
My grandmother was a bull in the china shop. She was an excellent nurse and retired a few years after my grandfather died. She held her achievements as a nurse close to her heart. One of her favorite possessions, which is now in my possession, was her years of service pins from the hospital. When the hospital started putting computers at the stations, she switched from nursing to serving as a Pink Lady and she was incredibly proud of her volunteer service and built her hours of service with pride.
My grandmother took my sister and I on our first plane ride when I was in the 4th grade and my sister in 1st grade to North Dakota to meet her extended family. When I was 13, she took us to Disneyland. And when we moved to Colorado she drove the 4 hours up and back on I-25 regularly to be there for every major event.
My grandmother was one of my biggest advocates. When I was a little girl I said that I wanted to be a nurse when I grew up, she replied, "no, you don't want to be a nurse, you will be a doctor". When I decided to go to grad school instead of medical school she was not happy with me.
She lived in her home (in one of the worst parts of Casper, which I should also blog about how they bought this home) until she was 85 years old. Two years ago we convinced her to go and live with David in Denver, he needed her as his health was declining. Everyone hoped it would be to their mutual benefit. As she lived there, David started realizing how poor off she really was. Her mental capacity was declining rapidly and as a consequence of this her finances needed serious interference.
Shortly thereafter she was diagnosed with mild Alzheimers about the same time my mother was diagnosed with liver cancer. This became a very difficult time for the both of them. My mom still harbored a lot of animosity that had never played out between she and my grandmother and tried to balance it with the fact that she was fighting for her life and still felt that she needed her mom to be there. My grandmother started having animosity because my mom wasn't there, she wasn't the one stepping up to help care for her and in her Alzheimers state, was not realizing that there were other things at play here. A liftime of difficult communication was coming to head.
My grandmother was eventually moved from my uncles house when he finally admitted he could not care for her, into an assisted living home where she had her own apartment. This was short lived when it was realized by the assisted living personnel that she needed substantially more than they could offer her, particularly after she broke her leg. She was moved into nursing home and quickly forgot about thoughts of going home.
We all went up to Casper and cleaned out her house - ok, some more than others cleaned - I went up and went through items taking a few boxfuls of things. The house sold a few months later.
Her health started rapidly declining, but she spoke regularly about how she loved the home, how good to her the staff was, and such. This was amazing to me, I never thought she would be happy with such a living situation. What angels.
Last week I received an e-mail from my uncle indicating that once again she was in the hospital and had undergone emergency surgery to remove a portion of her colon that had died. I spoke to her on the phone and it was so difficult to understand her, but her regular humor was still there.
I decided to make plans to go see her in the next 6-8 weeks, once she got out of the hospital. Unfortunately that wasn't to be. The last time I saw her was the day the kids, AB and I went to see her before celebrating my mom's life. We explained the situation that she had passed away and I held her tiny bony frame as she sobbed that it should have been her. Then as typical with Alzheimers patients, the minute lunch was mentioned she was off on a new topic and quickly forgot. Then during lunch she asked, "so how is your mother doing?"
I have many many funny and happy stories of my grandmother. She was one of my biggest fans and me one of hers. While I am sad that she has departed, I am happy that it was quiet, in her sleep, that she was lucky enough to have 87 years under her belt, had lived through so many fantastic times and accomplished so much for a woman in her lifetime (attaining her bachelor's degree in science). Living without memories is no way to live. She is truly in a better place now.
My 87 year old grandmother, Shirley Jeanne Perchert Walker, passed away last night.
Over the last year my grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimers, moved into a full time care facility, had three major surgeries (broken femur, blood infection and colon resection) and we all knew we were losing her both mentally and physically.
My grandmother was born in 1923 in Cooperstown, North Dakota to Hanna and Albert Perchert. She had two older brothers: Dale and Albert Jr (Bud) (both deceased when I was in my teens and early 20's). Copperstown was a very, very small Norwegian farming community where she claimed being related to half the town. She grew up on a farm through the Great Depression where as she put it, they didn't have much, but they had food. They did better than much of the rest of the US during this time. My great grandmother had three younger children later - Charles (Chucky), Naomi and Bonnie - all of whom are still living.
While my grandmother was in high school she also taught school and once graduated she went to teach full time "until she found a husband". About that time, my great grandparents decided to give up the farming life and took the younger three children to the Bay area. My uncle Dale took over the farm and remained close with my grandmother. Uncle Bud moved to California and I am in contact with his daughter Mickey on a somewhat regular basis. The younger siblings I only knew in passing. I got to know Chucky when we lived in Reno and he lived and worked nearby.
After a year or so of teaching high school my grandmother decided to enroll in the Army Nurse Cadet program and she was sent to Spokane, WA for her training at Deaconess Hospital.
As I grew older my grandmother would tell me how they were "the wild bunch" at Deaconess and how she and her roommate had one of the only rooms with a window and they used to sneak their girlfriends in and out of the room to meet the soldiers stationed at the base up near Spokane.
My grandmother spent time in LaGrande, OR doing her nurses training as well. She was nearing the day to be shipped overseas when the announcement came that the war was over.
My grandmother packed up and moved to Seattle, WA where she worked in a hospital. She took up flirting with an ambulance driver who relieved the elevator operator for his lunch. My grandmother tells of making excuses to ride up and down the elevator to be with the man who was nearly 15 years her senior.
The story between Seattle to Casper, WY is foggy. She at one point admitted to me that she left Seattle for Casper when she was pregnant (unmarried) and didn't know what to do. The man she had met in the elevator wasn't sure what he wanted to do and was not supportive of the pregnancy. She up and left and arrived in Casper, WY and moved in with a girl she knew from nurses training, started working at the local hospital and started attending the Seventh Day Adventist church.
A few months Eugene Lemuel Walker showed up. There was a wedding. And a few months later my uncle David was born.
My grandfather was born in backwoods Arkansas to a native American woman named Rose Hawk in the early part of the century. He managed to attend school through the second grade.
He had done odd jobs throughout his life to this point and decided that he would attend barber school. The school requested his transcript and he lied, telling them the school burnt down. He went to barber school, opened a barber shop in downtown Casper where he worked as long as his health allowed him. During the last 10 years of his life he was largely confined to the house and struggled with heart and lung problems and not to mention diabetes. He passed away in 1985.
Jeanne and Eugene had four children; David, Michael, Barbara and Robert. It was a volatile family life with alcoholism and lots of yelling. My grandparents had warm, but hard hearts. I used to play Yahtzee with my grandmother, we would sit at the kitchen table and she had this old yellow plastic cup she would roll her dice with. And she would shake and shake that cup. Then my grandfather would start yelling, "think you need to roll those God-damned any louder?" And my grandmother would grin. And her next turn she would shake them even louder and longer. Then my grandfather would start cussing under his breath. When someone bought my grandmother a padded dice cup it was supposed to heal the marriage.
My Yahtzee experiences I expect were only the tip of the iceburg with their 40-some year marriage, but said so much about those 40 years.
My grandmother worked nights as a nurse at the hospital and my grandfather was a barber.
In 1972 her first grandchild was born. That would be me.
I spent days with my grandmother while my mom attended the community college to get her AA degree. My grandmother and I were fast friends. Best of buddies. I spent loads of time at her house growing up. We had all our holidays together. She was my Bonka.
My grandmother was never one to smooth things over. She didn't hide her feelings or thoughts. And many people were hurt from this. Many family members. My grandmother told me one day, "people try to pretend like it isn't true, but your first is always your favorite. My first child was my favorite and my first grandchild was my favorite." She didn't have to say this, we all knew it was true, unfortunately. She tuned out with my little sister and her oldest son could do no wrong, but the other three struggled to live up despite one going to medical school and one becoming a small business owner of a contract research lab doing research for the giant firms. In this regard, I feel sorry for my grandmother, because she failed to look beyond her feelings to discover the beauty of the other children and adults in the family. I worked so hard to make up for her shortcomings with my sister, but I was hiding nothing from her.
I find it interesting that my sister was the one that was really thoroughly left on the sidelines with regards to my grandmother, but in the last year, my sister is the one who saw her most as she went to the home and visited her regularly in every hospital. I want to say I would have done the same thing in her shoes... but I admit I have not taken those steps with my father's mom.
My grandmother was a bull in the china shop. She was an excellent nurse and retired a few years after my grandfather died. She held her achievements as a nurse close to her heart. One of her favorite possessions, which is now in my possession, was her years of service pins from the hospital. When the hospital started putting computers at the stations, she switched from nursing to serving as a Pink Lady and she was incredibly proud of her volunteer service and built her hours of service with pride.
My grandmother took my sister and I on our first plane ride when I was in the 4th grade and my sister in 1st grade to North Dakota to meet her extended family. When I was 13, she took us to Disneyland. And when we moved to Colorado she drove the 4 hours up and back on I-25 regularly to be there for every major event.
My grandmother was one of my biggest advocates. When I was a little girl I said that I wanted to be a nurse when I grew up, she replied, "no, you don't want to be a nurse, you will be a doctor". When I decided to go to grad school instead of medical school she was not happy with me.
She lived in her home (in one of the worst parts of Casper, which I should also blog about how they bought this home) until she was 85 years old. Two years ago we convinced her to go and live with David in Denver, he needed her as his health was declining. Everyone hoped it would be to their mutual benefit. As she lived there, David started realizing how poor off she really was. Her mental capacity was declining rapidly and as a consequence of this her finances needed serious interference.
Shortly thereafter she was diagnosed with mild Alzheimers about the same time my mother was diagnosed with liver cancer. This became a very difficult time for the both of them. My mom still harbored a lot of animosity that had never played out between she and my grandmother and tried to balance it with the fact that she was fighting for her life and still felt that she needed her mom to be there. My grandmother started having animosity because my mom wasn't there, she wasn't the one stepping up to help care for her and in her Alzheimers state, was not realizing that there were other things at play here. A liftime of difficult communication was coming to head.
My grandmother was eventually moved from my uncles house when he finally admitted he could not care for her, into an assisted living home where she had her own apartment. This was short lived when it was realized by the assisted living personnel that she needed substantially more than they could offer her, particularly after she broke her leg. She was moved into nursing home and quickly forgot about thoughts of going home.
We all went up to Casper and cleaned out her house - ok, some more than others cleaned - I went up and went through items taking a few boxfuls of things. The house sold a few months later.
Her health started rapidly declining, but she spoke regularly about how she loved the home, how good to her the staff was, and such. This was amazing to me, I never thought she would be happy with such a living situation. What angels.
Last week I received an e-mail from my uncle indicating that once again she was in the hospital and had undergone emergency surgery to remove a portion of her colon that had died. I spoke to her on the phone and it was so difficult to understand her, but her regular humor was still there.
I decided to make plans to go see her in the next 6-8 weeks, once she got out of the hospital. Unfortunately that wasn't to be. The last time I saw her was the day the kids, AB and I went to see her before celebrating my mom's life. We explained the situation that she had passed away and I held her tiny bony frame as she sobbed that it should have been her. Then as typical with Alzheimers patients, the minute lunch was mentioned she was off on a new topic and quickly forgot. Then during lunch she asked, "so how is your mother doing?"
I have many many funny and happy stories of my grandmother. She was one of my biggest fans and me one of hers. While I am sad that she has departed, I am happy that it was quiet, in her sleep, that she was lucky enough to have 87 years under her belt, had lived through so many fantastic times and accomplished so much for a woman in her lifetime (attaining her bachelor's degree in science). Living without memories is no way to live. She is truly in a better place now.
Friday, July 08, 2011
4th of July at the Cabin
Strolling the beach.
Every trip to Shelton has to have a trip to see Cecil.
The neighborhood friendly Harbor seal has gotten awfully used to us. He doesn't budge when we paddle up right next to him. 
Seriously, *I* was the one getting freaked out here.
Skadi was determined to catch fish for dinner.
But she only kept turning up these jellyfish.
The kids were freaked out by them, but AB notsomuch.
Fishergirl.
Ok, this guy, we will be freaked out a bit by. He was a BIG jellyfish. Nets out of the water.
Where did my baby girl go?
Seriously, *I* was the one getting freaked out here.
Skadi was determined to catch fish for dinner.
But she only kept turning up these jellyfish.
The kids were freaked out by them, but AB notsomuch.
Fishergirl.
Ok, this guy, we will be freaked out a bit by. He was a BIG jellyfish. Nets out of the water.
Where did my baby girl go?
Missing, one baby girl. Seems to have been replaced by a big girl.
Best Purchase Ever
The past few years AB and I have debated and studied RVs. (Yes, my 16 year old self is so laughing at me right now.) We finally honed in on a travel trailer and after another year or so decided what we wanted... queen bed (preferably with a separation wall), bunks and preferably four seasons since we had hopes at the time of using it year round... or at least 3 seasons of the year. This May we happened upon a lesser known brand at a great price (similar to what we were going to pay for a used version) and pounced.
We worried... were we going to suffer buyer's regret? Will we really use it? Will we LIKE it?
Four trips out later and we are sold. We love it. We use it. And no buyer's regret.
The step stool is there for the kids to access the bunk. Bathroom behind the door.
Leif gets the top bunk and loves it. Skadi is less enthused with the bunks for some reason. I am wondering if she isn't a bit clautrophobic. But after a few trips out and her waking and screaming all throughout the nights we gave in and put her on the fold out sofa. It pretty much never gets folded in actually as the kids like it out and it is more comfortable that way.
Yep, we are all quite sold on our new purchase. We enjoy having the place to sleep indoors, the heater when needed and the AC when needed. So far we have mostly dry camped, which has its own learning curve. But we have it pretty well mastered so far. The generator that AB purchased gives us an extra bit of insurance.
But best of all it has enabled trips that created memories for the kids like the ones below:
Leif's Rainbow Salmon... or Trout... whichever it is...
Even "Girl Grover" loves fishing!
We worried... were we going to suffer buyer's regret? Will we really use it? Will we LIKE it?
Four trips out later and we are sold. We love it. We use it. And no buyer's regret.
The step stool is there for the kids to access the bunk. Bathroom behind the door.
Leif gets the top bunk and loves it. Skadi is less enthused with the bunks for some reason. I am wondering if she isn't a bit clautrophobic. But after a few trips out and her waking and screaming all throughout the nights we gave in and put her on the fold out sofa. It pretty much never gets folded in actually as the kids like it out and it is more comfortable that way.
Yep, we are all quite sold on our new purchase. We enjoy having the place to sleep indoors, the heater when needed and the AC when needed. So far we have mostly dry camped, which has its own learning curve. But we have it pretty well mastered so far. The generator that AB purchased gives us an extra bit of insurance.
But best of all it has enabled trips that created memories for the kids like the ones below:
Leif's Rainbow Salmon... or Trout... whichever it is...
Still Leif's rainbow trout... but Skadi wanted a picture holding it.
Hiking and playing with the slugs.
More fishing...
Everyone loves fishing.
Even "Girl Grover" loves fishing!
Thursday, July 07, 2011
July
July
How can it be July already? Do I ask this every month? Why do the months just keep going faster and faster?
So my June goals were pretty much a complete bust. But I am going to blame money there.
I wanted to find something to organize my jewelry. I found a cute jewelry hanger to mount on the wall, went to go buy it and found out it was no longer in stock. And the thing is I want a wall hanging one. I have some long necklaces and I don’t want to devote the counter space. Wall mount only.
This caveat has made procuring the right system difficult. I actually found a few, but they were freaky expensive. Like $140 expensive. And I just have a horrible time committing about what I would spend on a good pair of shoes for some wire thing to hang my jewelry by. I may just resort to an 8 pack box of those Command hooks and keep my earring system as is – as in little votive holders next to my bed and on my bathroom counter. Or at least until I find something new and acceptable.
My quilt is pretty much ready to go to the long arm shop. Except that committing $200 to this endeavor, while easier to swallow than the $140 jewelry holder, is just not as pressing for some reason. I have it ready to go… and when I have an extra $200 sitting around… it will be first on deck. (And umm no, this having an extra $200 sitting around does NOT happen regularly.)
So July. Hello July.
July is going to be my month of not spending ANYTHING on my monthly goals. Yes, I have become freaky about spending money. I am tired of it. I mean, I want the stuff that results from it, but I am tired of not having it.
We have been gone – out camping usually – about every other weekend since early May. Yay us! We are using our trailer and loving it. Happy days! Except that those weekends at home are all about recovery. Mountains of laundry, groceries, fitting in everything else basically.
Our next trip isn’t until July 29th when we head back over to the cabin so the kids can hang with their Boston cousins for a weekend.
Three whole weekends! Three whole weekends with no soccer (soccer is during the week in the summer), no swimming lessons, no excuses. And on one of them – no AB! He is going to Minnesota for a friend’s wedding and we decided that in the goal of saving money, that he would venture on his own. That gives me a whole weekend of not compromising! Of course it also gives me a whole weekend of single parenting…
With busy weekends and soccer two nights a week, I have fallen seriously behind in getting stuff done around the house. I have flat surfaces with just stacks of papers to be sorted, filed, shredded, tossed, etc. I have piles to go to Goodwill. I have piles of stuff to think about listing for sale. The kids’ closets are rapidly descending somewhere ugly. And my daughter’s hair accessory drawers has taken on a life of their own. Oh and did I mention I have a guest room? Yeah, it is hidden somewhere behind a stack of stuff.
Organization.
And planning for the future. I want to get some plans for our outdoor kitchen/patio going (maybe even contacting an architect for some ideas… if I can get AB on board there). I want to start thinking about this fall’s project – hardwood flooring in the front office and dining room (along with paint).
July is all about taking control of the clutter and planning for the remaining half year.
How can it be July already? Do I ask this every month? Why do the months just keep going faster and faster?
So my June goals were pretty much a complete bust. But I am going to blame money there.
I wanted to find something to organize my jewelry. I found a cute jewelry hanger to mount on the wall, went to go buy it and found out it was no longer in stock. And the thing is I want a wall hanging one. I have some long necklaces and I don’t want to devote the counter space. Wall mount only.
This caveat has made procuring the right system difficult. I actually found a few, but they were freaky expensive. Like $140 expensive. And I just have a horrible time committing about what I would spend on a good pair of shoes for some wire thing to hang my jewelry by. I may just resort to an 8 pack box of those Command hooks and keep my earring system as is – as in little votive holders next to my bed and on my bathroom counter. Or at least until I find something new and acceptable.
My quilt is pretty much ready to go to the long arm shop. Except that committing $200 to this endeavor, while easier to swallow than the $140 jewelry holder, is just not as pressing for some reason. I have it ready to go… and when I have an extra $200 sitting around… it will be first on deck. (And umm no, this having an extra $200 sitting around does NOT happen regularly.)
So July. Hello July.
July is going to be my month of not spending ANYTHING on my monthly goals. Yes, I have become freaky about spending money. I am tired of it. I mean, I want the stuff that results from it, but I am tired of not having it.
We have been gone – out camping usually – about every other weekend since early May. Yay us! We are using our trailer and loving it. Happy days! Except that those weekends at home are all about recovery. Mountains of laundry, groceries, fitting in everything else basically.
Our next trip isn’t until July 29th when we head back over to the cabin so the kids can hang with their Boston cousins for a weekend.
Three whole weekends! Three whole weekends with no soccer (soccer is during the week in the summer), no swimming lessons, no excuses. And on one of them – no AB! He is going to Minnesota for a friend’s wedding and we decided that in the goal of saving money, that he would venture on his own. That gives me a whole weekend of not compromising! Of course it also gives me a whole weekend of single parenting…
With busy weekends and soccer two nights a week, I have fallen seriously behind in getting stuff done around the house. I have flat surfaces with just stacks of papers to be sorted, filed, shredded, tossed, etc. I have piles to go to Goodwill. I have piles of stuff to think about listing for sale. The kids’ closets are rapidly descending somewhere ugly. And my daughter’s hair accessory drawers has taken on a life of their own. Oh and did I mention I have a guest room? Yeah, it is hidden somewhere behind a stack of stuff.
Organization.
And planning for the future. I want to get some plans for our outdoor kitchen/patio going (maybe even contacting an architect for some ideas… if I can get AB on board there). I want to start thinking about this fall’s project – hardwood flooring in the front office and dining room (along with paint).
July is all about taking control of the clutter and planning for the remaining half year.
Foodie Inspirations
One of my old issues of Bon Appetit (it is an older issue as I have no time to read it anymore it seems) had a section on defining food moments. What, in your lifetime, was your defining food moment or moments? That point where food became more than just sustenance? Where food became intriguing? What helped you define yourself further from being a mere consumer?
Ok, so those last three are my spin on the question since in Bon Appetit it was posed to a bunch of chefs. And I am not a chef – but I think the question is still relevant.
I was always a horribly picky child. Horribly. I rarely tried anything new and I preferred bland food. I ate mild salsa. And I dipped my chip carefully so as to not get any chunks on my chip, then I would shake it so I didn’t get too much salsa. Seriously.
Wow have I come a long way.
I recall a few food defining moments…
The first one that pops to mind was when I started dating a guy in my freshman year of college. He had a bit of hippy to him and had worked in kitchens throughout Northern Colorado. In that nearly two years we dated, he taught me to cook. Really cook, as in not food preparation for mere sustenance. We ate at some fabulous restaurants and cooked great food and used it as an excuse to gather with friends.
When we were first starting to date he took me to El Chapultapec in downtown Denver and we ordered green chili. I was still picky, but despite my fear, I wasn’t going to let it show.
I took one bite of my steaming bowlful of green chili in front of me and I started to cry. It burned. It hit my tastebuds. It paralyzed my taste buds. I gagged. I gulped water. I cried some more.
And then I went back for more.
It was delicious and had flavors I never knew existed.
I am positive I permanently maimed my taste buds that evening. But it was a good thing.
My second food defining moment was when I was new in my job out of grad school. AB and I were invited to go have Thanksgiving dinner with one of my managers. It was one of the first times that we either weren’t traveling to Colorado to be with my family, or weren’t hosting ourselves. We felt a bit out of sorts about eating at someone else’s house for Thanksgiving, but we embraced it.
Dinner was very traditional and good. But everyone was so excited for dessert – pie! I knew I could embrace this. I love pie. Pie is my family’s way of doing dessert. I had eaten pie since I was a child and there is NO other way to finish up Thanksgiving dinner. Pie is what Thanksgiving is all about to me. I could care less about turkey usually. But pie? Yum. So when the manager told me a week in advance that pie was their centerpiece for the meal, I knew this would go over well.
Once there though, my perceptions changed. Then I was a bit horrified.
My hosts pulled out a few boxes out of the freezer and tossed frozen pies into the oven.
They pulled the pies out later and everyone ooh’d and aah’d over the pies.
I tried not to turn up my nose. I took a piece.
Then I went home and vowed to learn to make pie crust. To this point I had accepted that I was not a pie crust maker and relied on eating my mom’s pies. Only occasionally attempting pie myself and dealing with the fact that I had tough ugly crusts.
A year or so later I had mastered pie crust and resolved to never ever ever be forced to eat frozen box pies for Thanksgiving dinner ever again.
My pie crusts may not be pretty, but I can crank the pies out with ease.
Ok, so those last three are my spin on the question since in Bon Appetit it was posed to a bunch of chefs. And I am not a chef – but I think the question is still relevant.
I was always a horribly picky child. Horribly. I rarely tried anything new and I preferred bland food. I ate mild salsa. And I dipped my chip carefully so as to not get any chunks on my chip, then I would shake it so I didn’t get too much salsa. Seriously.
Wow have I come a long way.
I recall a few food defining moments…
The first one that pops to mind was when I started dating a guy in my freshman year of college. He had a bit of hippy to him and had worked in kitchens throughout Northern Colorado. In that nearly two years we dated, he taught me to cook. Really cook, as in not food preparation for mere sustenance. We ate at some fabulous restaurants and cooked great food and used it as an excuse to gather with friends.
When we were first starting to date he took me to El Chapultapec in downtown Denver and we ordered green chili. I was still picky, but despite my fear, I wasn’t going to let it show.
I took one bite of my steaming bowlful of green chili in front of me and I started to cry. It burned. It hit my tastebuds. It paralyzed my taste buds. I gagged. I gulped water. I cried some more.
And then I went back for more.
It was delicious and had flavors I never knew existed.
I am positive I permanently maimed my taste buds that evening. But it was a good thing.
My second food defining moment was when I was new in my job out of grad school. AB and I were invited to go have Thanksgiving dinner with one of my managers. It was one of the first times that we either weren’t traveling to Colorado to be with my family, or weren’t hosting ourselves. We felt a bit out of sorts about eating at someone else’s house for Thanksgiving, but we embraced it.
Dinner was very traditional and good. But everyone was so excited for dessert – pie! I knew I could embrace this. I love pie. Pie is my family’s way of doing dessert. I had eaten pie since I was a child and there is NO other way to finish up Thanksgiving dinner. Pie is what Thanksgiving is all about to me. I could care less about turkey usually. But pie? Yum. So when the manager told me a week in advance that pie was their centerpiece for the meal, I knew this would go over well.
Once there though, my perceptions changed. Then I was a bit horrified.
My hosts pulled out a few boxes out of the freezer and tossed frozen pies into the oven.
They pulled the pies out later and everyone ooh’d and aah’d over the pies.
I tried not to turn up my nose. I took a piece.
Then I went home and vowed to learn to make pie crust. To this point I had accepted that I was not a pie crust maker and relied on eating my mom’s pies. Only occasionally attempting pie myself and dealing with the fact that I had tough ugly crusts.
A year or so later I had mastered pie crust and resolved to never ever ever be forced to eat frozen box pies for Thanksgiving dinner ever again.
My pie crusts may not be pretty, but I can crank the pies out with ease.
The perils of a child's increased awareness of his surroundings...
The setting: Leif and I in some skuzzy male/female gas station bathroom on the way back from the coast. Normally I let him go in by himself, but I hesitated here and went in with him.
Leif: “Look mom, you can buy stuff in here!” (Pointing to the questionable dispenser on the wall.)
Me: “Yep.”
Leif: “It costs 50 cents mom.”
Me: “Yep.”
Leif: “It looks like it is a fun game mom, see it says ‘Fun’ on it!”
Me: “Oh yeah, I bet it is a lot of fun.”
Leif: “Do you have 50 cents mom? I want one of those games.”
Me: “No.”
Leif: “But it says it is fun mom.”
Me: “Those are just for adults.”
Leif: “Why would they put fun games to buy in the bathrooms that are just for adults mom? That just doesn’t make sense.”
Me: “Nope, it doesn’t make any sense at all, you are right. Let’s hurry and go.”
Leif: “Look mom, you can buy stuff in here!” (Pointing to the questionable dispenser on the wall.)
Me: “Yep.”
Leif: “It costs 50 cents mom.”
Me: “Yep.”
Leif: “It looks like it is a fun game mom, see it says ‘Fun’ on it!”
Me: “Oh yeah, I bet it is a lot of fun.”
Leif: “Do you have 50 cents mom? I want one of those games.”
Me: “No.”
Leif: “But it says it is fun mom.”
Me: “Those are just for adults.”
Leif: “Why would they put fun games to buy in the bathrooms that are just for adults mom? That just doesn’t make sense.”
Me: “Nope, it doesn’t make any sense at all, you are right. Let’s hurry and go.”
Monday, June 27, 2011
Social Styles Redux
Back when Leif was little, I was pulled into a program at work where one of the courses that I took was Social Styles. I remember watching the descriptions of the styles, reading the descriptions of the styles and yes (because these classes are ALL about repetition) then hearing about the styles. And I knew I was an analytical. And I blogged a lot about it here, just search Social Style on this blog.
Ask vs. Tell?
Ask. Easy. I never TELL anyone what to do, I ask them to do it. And I get into humongous trouble doing what comes naturally to me with my kids. I can ask my kids to get their shoes on 572 times, but I only have to tell them to get their shoes on 43 times. See? There is a benefit to being more direct.
Task vs. People?
Task. Easy. I am not a people person, I struggle (since I was a kid) with eye contact, but have worked really really hard at that over the years. I prefer to hide in my office and I don’t feed off of people interactions. Oftentimes they make me nervous.
Ask + Tell = Analytical
No surprise.
What happened then was they subdivided the quadrant and lo and behold I was shoved even further out there – Analytical Analytical.
Oh and my versatility score? Abysmal.
Over the last few years I have worked on my style. Yes, I could sit and push my way, taking forever to make a decision, waiting until I had ALL the facts. Or I could try and learn from the class.
Flash forward 6 years later and while in another program I was given an opportunity to take the class again. I jumped on it hoping to have increased my versatility and see if I am really, really that bad. I mean, I know I am Analytical, but I am not *that* Analytical, right?
Right.
Because this time, I came out to be a medium versatile Amiable. That would be Ask + People = Amiable.
Amiable? Me?
I have struggled with this diagnosis nearly as hard as I struggled with labeled Analytical Analytical. I am so not Amiable.
So how did I get there? It is funny actually because the first time around I had only 3 respondents (you are supposed to have 5) and they were each from far ends of the spectrum themselves. Well duh, compared to those two Expressives and that Driver, of course I would be viewed as the far end of Analytical. That’s it, it was my respondents fault!
So this time around I carefully selected my respondents making sure to hit all the social styles. Everyone I selected I have known pretty well for the last three years at least.
So, larger pool, better statistics. People who know me better, better precision. All this makes for good accuracy, right?
Except that I don’t feel it. Not at all.
Ok, well there was that day at Home Depot…
Back Up Behaviors… an Amiable when pushed will acquiesce. Pushed further will attack. Even further you have avoid. And push them to their limit and they become autocratic.
At Home Depot with AB…
“Fine do whatever you want.”
“You never listen to me, you want my input, but you don’t listen and you do whatever you want anyway. I don’t know why I am here. This is ridiculous.”
“I am going to go get the paint now.”
“Ok I am back and this is how we are going to do it and that is final.”
Acquiesce, Attack, Avoid, Autocratic.
Point taken.
And further understanding as to how I routinely end up getting my way… my husband is a Driver and his back up behavior is opposite of mine… Autocratic, Avoid, Attack and finally Acquiesce.
And now that I have realized this I can use it to my full advantage... right?
Ask vs. Tell?
Ask. Easy. I never TELL anyone what to do, I ask them to do it. And I get into humongous trouble doing what comes naturally to me with my kids. I can ask my kids to get their shoes on 572 times, but I only have to tell them to get their shoes on 43 times. See? There is a benefit to being more direct.
Task vs. People?
Task. Easy. I am not a people person, I struggle (since I was a kid) with eye contact, but have worked really really hard at that over the years. I prefer to hide in my office and I don’t feed off of people interactions. Oftentimes they make me nervous.
Ask + Tell = Analytical
No surprise.
What happened then was they subdivided the quadrant and lo and behold I was shoved even further out there – Analytical Analytical.
Oh and my versatility score? Abysmal.
Over the last few years I have worked on my style. Yes, I could sit and push my way, taking forever to make a decision, waiting until I had ALL the facts. Or I could try and learn from the class.
Flash forward 6 years later and while in another program I was given an opportunity to take the class again. I jumped on it hoping to have increased my versatility and see if I am really, really that bad. I mean, I know I am Analytical, but I am not *that* Analytical, right?
Right.
Because this time, I came out to be a medium versatile Amiable. That would be Ask + People = Amiable.
Amiable? Me?
I have struggled with this diagnosis nearly as hard as I struggled with labeled Analytical Analytical. I am so not Amiable.
So how did I get there? It is funny actually because the first time around I had only 3 respondents (you are supposed to have 5) and they were each from far ends of the spectrum themselves. Well duh, compared to those two Expressives and that Driver, of course I would be viewed as the far end of Analytical. That’s it, it was my respondents fault!
So this time around I carefully selected my respondents making sure to hit all the social styles. Everyone I selected I have known pretty well for the last three years at least.
So, larger pool, better statistics. People who know me better, better precision. All this makes for good accuracy, right?
Except that I don’t feel it. Not at all.
Ok, well there was that day at Home Depot…
Back Up Behaviors… an Amiable when pushed will acquiesce. Pushed further will attack. Even further you have avoid. And push them to their limit and they become autocratic.
At Home Depot with AB…
“Fine do whatever you want.”
“You never listen to me, you want my input, but you don’t listen and you do whatever you want anyway. I don’t know why I am here. This is ridiculous.”
“I am going to go get the paint now.”
“Ok I am back and this is how we are going to do it and that is final.”
Acquiesce, Attack, Avoid, Autocratic.
Point taken.
And further understanding as to how I routinely end up getting my way… my husband is a Driver and his back up behavior is opposite of mine… Autocratic, Avoid, Attack and finally Acquiesce.
And now that I have realized this I can use it to my full advantage... right?
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Are all boys like this?
Me: "Leif get off the computer and come talk to me."
Leif: "What?"
Me: "What did you do today?"
Leif: "Nothing."
Me: "Did you go to the library?"
Leif: "Yes."
Me: "What did you do there?"
Leif: "Like nothing."
Me: "Did you look at books?"
Leif: "No."
Me: "Did you walk around?"
Leif: "No."
Me: "What did you do then?"
Leif: "I told you, nothing!"
Me: "Did you do the Pacific Science Center Rock and Roll thing after?"
Leif: "No."
Me: "I thought that was what you were doing today. What did they have?"
Leif: "It was a park."
Me: "So what did you do at the park?"
Leif: "Talked on the phone?"
Me: "To who?"
Leif: "Everyone."
Me: "All your group?"
Leif: "Yes. I talked into it and it was loud."
Me: "Was there singing at the ROck and Roll thing?"
Leif: "No."
Me: "So all there was, was a big phone."
Leif: "Yes, at the park."
Me: "Ok, so where did you eat lunch?"
Leif: "At the park."
Me: "Did you see anyone there you knew?"
Leif: "No."
Me: "No one there you knew at all? Not a girl?"
Leif: "No."
Me: "A girl with long black hair?"
Leif: "No."
Me: "Did she hug you?"
Leif: "Nobody hugged me mom."
Me: "Well Sophia's mom said that they saw you at the park."
Leif: "They saw C, not me."
Me: "Ok, did you swim today?"
Leif: "Yes."
Me: "Did you have fun?"
Leif: "I taught C a new move on protecting herself from flying water."
Me: "Oh, ok! What else."
Leif: "Just swimming mom."
Me: "Wow, sounds like not a very fun day. Did you have a good time or should we go back to your old school?"
Leif: "NO MOM! I had a great time!"
Me: "I wouldn't know that."
Leif: "May I be excused from this now?"
Me: "Yes."
Leif: "What?"
Me: "What did you do today?"
Leif: "Nothing."
Me: "Did you go to the library?"
Leif: "Yes."
Me: "What did you do there?"
Leif: "Like nothing."
Me: "Did you look at books?"
Leif: "No."
Me: "Did you walk around?"
Leif: "No."
Me: "What did you do then?"
Leif: "I told you, nothing!"
Me: "Did you do the Pacific Science Center Rock and Roll thing after?"
Leif: "No."
Me: "I thought that was what you were doing today. What did they have?"
Leif: "It was a park."
Me: "So what did you do at the park?"
Leif: "Talked on the phone?"
Me: "To who?"
Leif: "Everyone."
Me: "All your group?"
Leif: "Yes. I talked into it and it was loud."
Me: "Was there singing at the ROck and Roll thing?"
Leif: "No."
Me: "So all there was, was a big phone."
Leif: "Yes, at the park."
Me: "Ok, so where did you eat lunch?"
Leif: "At the park."
Me: "Did you see anyone there you knew?"
Leif: "No."
Me: "No one there you knew at all? Not a girl?"
Leif: "No."
Me: "A girl with long black hair?"
Leif: "No."
Me: "Did she hug you?"
Leif: "Nobody hugged me mom."
Me: "Well Sophia's mom said that they saw you at the park."
Leif: "They saw C, not me."
Me:
Leif: "Yes."
Me: "Did you have fun?"
Leif: "I taught C a new move on protecting herself from flying water."
Me: "Oh, ok! What else."
Leif: "Just swimming mom."
Me: "Wow, sounds like not a very fun day. Did you have a good time or should we go back to your old school?"
Leif: "NO MOM! I had a great time!"
Me: "I wouldn't know that."
Leif: "May I be excused from this now?"
Me: "Yes."
Psychoanalyze my daughter
This is Skadi's 2nd favorite YouTube right now - she requests it every night.
Discuss please.
Discuss please.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Wasn't it just yesterday?
I know, it is so cliche. But yes, it feels like just yesterday I brought my oldest home from the hospital and now he is off wandering the streets and making his own purchases!
We could have left Leif in his school for the summer this year and moved him to public school in the fall. And it was awfully tempting. But his teacher discouraged us from this a bit and I agreed with her. Leif has always been pretty tentative about doing anything on his own.
Compare to me at 5 when I was going across the street to the park by myself, while my mom stayed home with my napping little sister. And it wasn't too long after that I was walking the three blocks to Mini Mart with a dollar in my hand to buy candy. When Leif even sees kids out doing things on his own he is worried for them.
Making the big leap to public school and riding the bus (without me)? We decided he needed a change of scenery and an opportunity to gain some self confidence to prepare for this.
I signed him up for three science camps at the local branch University as well as Adventure Club at our health club.
In two days of Adventure Camp I think he has grown amazingly.
This morning he didn't really want me to leave him there, stating, "mom, you would have lots of fun with us all day!" I know I would, I told him, but I need to go to work.
Then he hit the door of the Kid's Club Fitness Room and a few kids yelled his name and the word "dodgeball" was uttered and he was off. No time even for a kiss goodbye.
I waited anxiously all day to hear how his day went. It consisted of games and also on the schedule was a field trip to a local grocery store.
I have had to learn a lot too. I have had to trust that he will eat his lunch (fail today), get sunscreen on, knows how to use his inhaler (or at least get help) if he needs it, not lose his swimsuit, towel, goggles, etc. Then there is the whole thing with money. The girl who registered him told me that it is probably good to send him with a few bucks so that when they go on field trips that the kids can buy snacks or drinks.
The whole concept of my son having pocket money is a new one for both of us. On vacations, this hasn't been hugely successful, but probably more because AB and I haven't embraced it fully. Even when he wants to spend his money we have him hand us the money and order it online or pay for it ourselves. Leif is funny with money, he loves to have it, doesn't really want to spend it.
So today I suppose it shouldn't surprise me when he came home with treats that "he" purchased at the grocery store on the field trip, but still had his $4. He presented me with a receipt, so I was a little concerned until he finally owned up to the fact that his good friend spotted him the dollar. He frowned when I explained that he didn't need to accept money from his friend, he had his own for that purpose.
"But she wanted me to have it," he tried to convince me. (And I am not sure that I don't believe him.)
"You WILL be repaying her the dollar," I instructed much to his dismay.
A milestone of sorts... my son's first trip to the grocery store without me, with money in hand and the ability to buy whatever he wanted. (I am not sure how far "whatever" extended...)
He came home proudly holding two bags of caramels. "Look mom! TWO for $1!" he prided himself on. He also told me they were chocolate... he is in for a surprise.
He also came home talking about "Chef Boyardee".
I used to love Spaghetti-O's when I was growing up. But call me a snob... we haven't gone to that yet.
Tomorrow he is going to "Rollerena" for roller skating and I have pretty nearly given him permission to play air hockey the whole time and not skate in order to save his neck (and butt, and head, and knees, and elbows). I have taken him a few times with little success.
Last night I asked him what his favorite thing was, "dodgeball" was his quick reply. But thye do random sports (tennis, wallyball, swimming, etc., at the club) as well. I asked him tonight if he would rather go back to his Montessori school and I have never heard him scream "NO!" more vigorously. "We get to play fun games ALL day long!" And when I asked him how his day was it wasn't just a shrug - he uttered the word, "GREAT!"
Next week they are taking them to the library, a Dust Devils baseball game, the movie theater and to a gymnastics gym for play.
I am thinking maybe I should take him up on the offer to join him. First, before he gets the idea that he doesn't need me and second, because it sounds like a whole lot of fun!
We could have left Leif in his school for the summer this year and moved him to public school in the fall. And it was awfully tempting. But his teacher discouraged us from this a bit and I agreed with her. Leif has always been pretty tentative about doing anything on his own.
Compare to me at 5 when I was going across the street to the park by myself, while my mom stayed home with my napping little sister. And it wasn't too long after that I was walking the three blocks to Mini Mart with a dollar in my hand to buy candy. When Leif even sees kids out doing things on his own he is worried for them.
Making the big leap to public school and riding the bus (without me)? We decided he needed a change of scenery and an opportunity to gain some self confidence to prepare for this.
I signed him up for three science camps at the local branch University as well as Adventure Club at our health club.
In two days of Adventure Camp I think he has grown amazingly.
This morning he didn't really want me to leave him there, stating, "mom, you would have lots of fun with us all day!" I know I would, I told him, but I need to go to work.
Then he hit the door of the Kid's Club Fitness Room and a few kids yelled his name and the word "dodgeball" was uttered and he was off. No time even for a kiss goodbye.
I waited anxiously all day to hear how his day went. It consisted of games and also on the schedule was a field trip to a local grocery store.
I have had to learn a lot too. I have had to trust that he will eat his lunch (fail today), get sunscreen on, knows how to use his inhaler (or at least get help) if he needs it, not lose his swimsuit, towel, goggles, etc. Then there is the whole thing with money. The girl who registered him told me that it is probably good to send him with a few bucks so that when they go on field trips that the kids can buy snacks or drinks.
The whole concept of my son having pocket money is a new one for both of us. On vacations, this hasn't been hugely successful, but probably more because AB and I haven't embraced it fully. Even when he wants to spend his money we have him hand us the money and order it online or pay for it ourselves. Leif is funny with money, he loves to have it, doesn't really want to spend it.
So today I suppose it shouldn't surprise me when he came home with treats that "he" purchased at the grocery store on the field trip, but still had his $4. He presented me with a receipt, so I was a little concerned until he finally owned up to the fact that his good friend spotted him the dollar. He frowned when I explained that he didn't need to accept money from his friend, he had his own for that purpose.
"But she wanted me to have it," he tried to convince me. (And I am not sure that I don't believe him.)
"You WILL be repaying her the dollar," I instructed much to his dismay.
A milestone of sorts... my son's first trip to the grocery store without me, with money in hand and the ability to buy whatever he wanted. (I am not sure how far "whatever" extended...)
He came home proudly holding two bags of caramels. "Look mom! TWO for $1!" he prided himself on. He also told me they were chocolate... he is in for a surprise.
He also came home talking about "Chef Boyardee".
I used to love Spaghetti-O's when I was growing up. But call me a snob... we haven't gone to that yet.
Tomorrow he is going to "Rollerena" for roller skating and I have pretty nearly given him permission to play air hockey the whole time and not skate in order to save his neck (and butt, and head, and knees, and elbows). I have taken him a few times with little success.
Last night I asked him what his favorite thing was, "dodgeball" was his quick reply. But thye do random sports (tennis, wallyball, swimming, etc., at the club) as well. I asked him tonight if he would rather go back to his Montessori school and I have never heard him scream "NO!" more vigorously. "We get to play fun games ALL day long!" And when I asked him how his day was it wasn't just a shrug - he uttered the word, "GREAT!"
Next week they are taking them to the library, a Dust Devils baseball game, the movie theater and to a gymnastics gym for play.
I am thinking maybe I should take him up on the offer to join him. First, before he gets the idea that he doesn't need me and second, because it sounds like a whole lot of fun!
Thursday, June 09, 2011
Feeling the neighborhood love
Or not.
When AB and I were looking for our second home we weren't terribly particular with neighborhoods. We just wanted a nice home and really, in our part of the town, anything was open to us as we just wanted to be in the South end of the city.
When we found our house we didn't really think about the temple on the corner of a particular religious persuassion. Maybe we should have thought about that we were living in "Temple Meadows".
When I tell people where I live I can easily say, "behind the temple" and people know where we are. I have had more than one person say, "oh, are you XXX religion?" Maybe we should have known? Or maybe we were just naive.
Honestly I don't know how many of our neighbors are of that particular religion.
I believe this is partly because after just over two years in our home, we don't know our neighbors.
In our old neighborhood we knew the first names of our neighbors on each side, their kids and families up and down the street. We had two teenagers ready to babysit and knew that the guy four houses down was running for Mayor. We met and banded together to oppose construction of an apartment complex behind us as well as to request that a builder who came in to develop the last two lots in our neighborhood follow the code established (that required that 1/3 of the front of the house be in rock or brick). We were a community.
I don't get that in our new neighborhood. We know our neighbors immediately adjacent on one side alright, an elderly couple who are quite sweet and very helpful with RV and yard questions. And I know the family down from them only a little. Their kids are staggered from ours and the oldest isn't terribly interested in playing with someone 18 months younger than him and their youngest has a weird and vocal aversion to girls.
Yeah, we don't do much with them.
It isn't like we hide in our house. We walk most evenings around the neighborhood. We sit out on our patio and the kids play in the yard.
Still I feel as though the neighbors walk a wide berth.
I have wondered if it is because we aren't one of "them". (The ones who attend the temple.)
Or if we just live in an unfriendly neighborhood?
This blog has been rolling around in my head for a few months. Maybe even a year. How do I write this without whining. Or seeming like I am opposed to their religious persuassion (I think I blogged about Leif stating that Darth Vadar lived in the temple.)
Tonight kind of kicked it over that edge.
We were out for our evening walk and walked down a street that we walk maybe once or twice a month. Skadi was on her trike (as she is boycotting the bike with training wheels we were loaned), Leif was walking and the dogs were ambling along. A woman came out of her house.
AB: "Hello, what a lovely evening!"
Witch: "I don't like you or your dogs because they poop in my yard."
Umm hello to you too.
Nope. My dogs don't poop in your yard. They might walk there on occasion. But they don't poop there.
Rudeness? My neighborhood has it.
When AB and I were looking for our second home we weren't terribly particular with neighborhoods. We just wanted a nice home and really, in our part of the town, anything was open to us as we just wanted to be in the South end of the city.
When we found our house we didn't really think about the temple on the corner of a particular religious persuassion. Maybe we should have thought about that we were living in "Temple Meadows".
When I tell people where I live I can easily say, "behind the temple" and people know where we are. I have had more than one person say, "oh, are you XXX religion?" Maybe we should have known? Or maybe we were just naive.
Honestly I don't know how many of our neighbors are of that particular religion.
I believe this is partly because after just over two years in our home, we don't know our neighbors.
In our old neighborhood we knew the first names of our neighbors on each side, their kids and families up and down the street. We had two teenagers ready to babysit and knew that the guy four houses down was running for Mayor. We met and banded together to oppose construction of an apartment complex behind us as well as to request that a builder who came in to develop the last two lots in our neighborhood follow the code established (that required that 1/3 of the front of the house be in rock or brick). We were a community.
I don't get that in our new neighborhood. We know our neighbors immediately adjacent on one side alright, an elderly couple who are quite sweet and very helpful with RV and yard questions. And I know the family down from them only a little. Their kids are staggered from ours and the oldest isn't terribly interested in playing with someone 18 months younger than him and their youngest has a weird and vocal aversion to girls.
Yeah, we don't do much with them.
It isn't like we hide in our house. We walk most evenings around the neighborhood. We sit out on our patio and the kids play in the yard.
Still I feel as though the neighbors walk a wide berth.
I have wondered if it is because we aren't one of "them". (The ones who attend the temple.)
Or if we just live in an unfriendly neighborhood?
This blog has been rolling around in my head for a few months. Maybe even a year. How do I write this without whining. Or seeming like I am opposed to their religious persuassion (I think I blogged about Leif stating that Darth Vadar lived in the temple.)
Tonight kind of kicked it over that edge.
We were out for our evening walk and walked down a street that we walk maybe once or twice a month. Skadi was on her trike (as she is boycotting the bike with training wheels we were loaned), Leif was walking and the dogs were ambling along. A woman came out of her house.
AB: "Hello, what a lovely evening!"
Witch: "I don't like you or your dogs because they poop in my yard."
Umm hello to you too.
Nope. My dogs don't poop in your yard. They might walk there on occasion. But they don't poop there.
Rudeness? My neighborhood has it.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Putting One Foot In Front Of The Other
I haven’t done a decent update in awhile. I have a huge list of blog topics, but a lack of time to actually write them. And for me it is kind of like a snowball effect. It starts out little, and then as time goes on the snowball gets bigger and bigger as it threatens to run me over. Maybe I have been run over. In some effort to start new after being run over, I will try and get caught up, let's see how I do.
Major Purchase:
We bought a travel trailer in early May. AB and I love camping, we both grew up camping, we want our kids to enjoy camping. But I have reached a point where a dome tent with two kids and two dogs on an air mattress just takes all pleasure out of it. Over the last few years we have identified what exactly we want in a trailer and this spring we surprised ourselves and pulled the trigger. We had been looking for used 4-season bunkhouses and knew what was reasonable to pay for them. Last fall we negotiated on a used unit, but gave up when they failed to negotiate more than $500 lower off the sticker price. This spring we bought a new one for that same price.
We have taken the trailer out twice, and the kids love it. We are still learning it, but after our first longer trip (3 nights this past Memorial Day weekend) we have it pretty well figured out. And I am even getting good with my handsigns. AB is even better at interpreting my handsigns.
We weren’t actually quite where we wanted to be financially before buying it. But in the last year I have given a lot of thought to what living means. I look at my mom’s life and while she had a good life, I look at the things left undone. The things she hoped to accomplish. No one knows our fate. But I have embraced living more in the last year. Taking off and doing the things we want to do instead of just talk about them. I want my kids to love the outdoors and to tramp around the forests like my sister and I did as kids as well as AB and his family did, and have those experiences that we both remember so fondly. I have to make that happen. Purchasing the trailer is making that happen for us.
And my 16 year old self is so laughing at me for “RV’ing”.
Leif:
Leif is wrapping up his last year at the Montessori school he has been at since he was one year old. 6 years here, the end of a legacy of sorts. Wah. My baby Is growing up.
Leif is so very excited to move on to bigger and better things, though he is so very tentative. He really isn't sure about this whole riding the bus without me thing. He will be in public first grade this coming fall. This summer he is looking forward to some science camps at the local branch university and Adventure camp through our health club.
Leif is such a sweet, loving, tender hearted little boy. Poor kid doesn’t understand girls at all and is constantly confounded by them. He surprises me daily with the things he knows and remembers.
The other day Leif and one of his friends was playing at the park as Skadi practiced TBall. I looked over and saw him crawling up the outside of the slide tube. When I went over to him I asked him if that was very safe. He thought for a bit and then replied, “No, but it was impressive.”
We opened a 529 account for the kids awhile back and because I am a geek I maintain a spreadsheet that forecasts the funds growth on a quarterly basis. I set it up and forecasted out and then calculated the year that Leif will go to college. When I realized that I didn’t have to scroll down 3 pages to get to that year it made me a bit ill. My baby is growing up. College is only one Excel page view of quarters away! GAH!
Skadi:
Oh Skadi Skadi Skadi. My sweet little girl… sometimes. The other time she is something else.
We are struggling with Skadi in preschool, out of preschool, through the night… What can I say? It’s darn good that she is as cute as she is! I contemplated last week pulling her out of the Montessori preschool she has been at for three years now. I was *this* close to pulling the trigger. Then AB went in and talked with the teachers a bit and we decided to sit in the holding pattern for a bit. See how things go through the summer.
I talk and talk to that child.
“You had fun on your McDonalds field trip, right?” (She agrees.) “If you don’t behave you will continue to lose field trips and won’t be able to go do these fun things.” (She agrees to be good.)
She is a smart girl. She is pretty mouthy – the other day threats looming that she was bordering upon losing the “Beach Party Day” at school she dared to tell her teachers they could go ahead and take away the privilege from her, she didn’t care, because she planned to tell her mommy to keep her home and we would have our own party and not invite them, so there.
Sigh.
And no, that is so not happening.
She is quick on her feet with her words, but reminds me a lot of my grandmother when she talks, “betend” is “pretend”. “Yesternight” is last night. “Two-head” is still forehead.
This weekend while camping I went over and started poking (or in AB’s words, “fiddling”) with the campfire. My husband is a bit particular about his campfires and with the wet weather this weekend, he had his work cut out for him. Skadi sees me and said, “"Mom, hurry up fiddling with the fire before daddy gets back and sees you!"
The other day Skadi came out of the bathroom and announced, “Mom, I think I am finally old enough to learn how to pee like a boy.”
And then there are days unlike the start of this section where I so agree with her and know she is my daughter, “Leif: "I want to listen to Les Miserables, the Battle Scene in Act 2."
Skadi: "I want to listen to Dancing Queen."
AB:
AB recently had the joy of jury duty. I have always wanted to serve on a jury panel. Yes, seriously. My friends and coworkers look at me like I am nuts when I say this. But for some reason I would like to see first hand our legal system in action. After AB was on a jury panel for a week he can unequivocally say that there is little "action" and that he hopes to never have to rely on our judicial system.
Anyways, I was still jealous. He actually got picked after offering up every reason why he shouldn’t… “I know the prosecutor”, “I work at the same place as the defendant and he looks familiar to me”, “I don’t want to serve, but I know it is my civil duty” (among a group of people who said they did want to serve nonetheless)… but alas he was picked and got to hear abuse stories that still make him cringe. Yeah, maybe I don't want to serve on a jury... I have a friend that served on one about a farmer stealing another one's goats - and a friend's wife who served on a jury about poaching of eagles... nope, AB got a real nasty one.
Work:
My work. Blah.
It’s hard to get very enthused about it when people around me are struggling to find enough work to prevent themselves from being laid off. I am normally in a position to help people out a bit, but this FY, not so. I don’t have much buffer myself. I have even set up an Excel sheet to plan out my upcoming work to make sure I can cover myself. I may be embracing 3-day weekends this summer more than I have in the past.
One of my topics on my list to blog about is the whole “best friend” at work thing. We do these polls that estimate our happiness as a group with our place of employment. Historically my group scores high, which is pretty cool. One of the questions on the poll asks if you have a best friend at work. For years I have been in a position to answer yes to that simply because one of my best friends works here, though I have never had the occasion to work with her. The fact still remains that I have a best friend at work.
In the last few months I have actually had occasion to fully embrace the notion of having a best friend at work in the context of the question. What they want to know is do you have someone you work with that you can go and talk to about what is going on. Sure my good friend down in the other building, who I can’t actually talk to about what I do on a daily basis qualifies to a certain degree. As do the couple of women in my hallway who I can go and talk about daycare or restaurants or hotels, but once again have never really actually worked with them. In the last year I have found my best friends at work… two unassuming guys I work with regularly that I don’t think anyone would really peg them as my “best friends”. But the last 6 months or so they have heard me whine, bitch, cry and complain – and I have heard it from them too. Ok, so they don’t cry. And I only almost cried once.
It’s a big step for me actually. I work on a lot of varied projects with lots of different people and rarely a single core group as so many people do. I get good reviews from people and word of mouth (I believe) is why I am not short on work right now when so many people I know are. I have gotten to know a lot of different people and get called up to do lots of varied projects. I have talked with the two about teaming more regularly and we have a few concepts in the pipeline. I enjoy working with them, appreciate their strong work ethics and we work well as a team. What more could you ask for?
There is a lot of tension here as work is becoming more scarce. Project work has become competitive when jobs are suddenly at stake. While I am funded right now, it is the end of the fiscal year that scares the daylights out of me. Most of my “little” projects wrap up between now and then due to either lack of funding or meeting our completion date. I have a big proposal that was sent out to my least favorite client this morning. One of the guys I wrote the proposal with told me last week that the program manager was already telling him congratulations on it. So I am crossing my fingers that project comes through, though I fully expect another CR and thus actual money won’t arrive until well into FY12 I am sure.
Work… eh, it’s ok. But AB and I have started talking… wonder what else is out there? Where in the world could we wander to? Do we want to live here forever and ever?
Goals:
Ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Yes typically speaking about this time of year my goals start going by the wayside. Summer is just hard to maintain that “do the work around the house” attitude when we have so much we are doing outside and the days are long.
As of today though the quilt is very nearly ready to haul down to the long arm to be quilted. That will be my big checkmark.
AB cleaned the garage pretty well… I intended to help. And I intended to get down and dirty by digging out every last little remnant and adorning the garage with plastic bins and random storage notions.
Well the garage is clean and that is that. My motivation to go out there and work at it more is nill. Not when I have my MIL coming for a visit, a trailer that needs to be cleaned and mopped for the next Father’s Day trip and laundry stacked up to the ceiling upstairs.
June optional goals… if I have time I plan to:
June goal #1 – Think about the outdoor patio kitchen and get some drawings with ideas down on paper.
June goal #2 – detangle my jewelry and figure out something for actual storage of bling that I use on a regular basis.
Major Purchase:
We bought a travel trailer in early May. AB and I love camping, we both grew up camping, we want our kids to enjoy camping. But I have reached a point where a dome tent with two kids and two dogs on an air mattress just takes all pleasure out of it. Over the last few years we have identified what exactly we want in a trailer and this spring we surprised ourselves and pulled the trigger. We had been looking for used 4-season bunkhouses and knew what was reasonable to pay for them. Last fall we negotiated on a used unit, but gave up when they failed to negotiate more than $500 lower off the sticker price. This spring we bought a new one for that same price.
We have taken the trailer out twice, and the kids love it. We are still learning it, but after our first longer trip (3 nights this past Memorial Day weekend) we have it pretty well figured out. And I am even getting good with my handsigns. AB is even better at interpreting my handsigns.
We weren’t actually quite where we wanted to be financially before buying it. But in the last year I have given a lot of thought to what living means. I look at my mom’s life and while she had a good life, I look at the things left undone. The things she hoped to accomplish. No one knows our fate. But I have embraced living more in the last year. Taking off and doing the things we want to do instead of just talk about them. I want my kids to love the outdoors and to tramp around the forests like my sister and I did as kids as well as AB and his family did, and have those experiences that we both remember so fondly. I have to make that happen. Purchasing the trailer is making that happen for us.
And my 16 year old self is so laughing at me for “RV’ing”.
Leif:
Leif is wrapping up his last year at the Montessori school he has been at since he was one year old. 6 years here, the end of a legacy of sorts. Wah. My baby Is growing up.
Leif is so very excited to move on to bigger and better things, though he is so very tentative. He really isn't sure about this whole riding the bus without me thing. He will be in public first grade this coming fall. This summer he is looking forward to some science camps at the local branch university and Adventure camp through our health club.
Leif is such a sweet, loving, tender hearted little boy. Poor kid doesn’t understand girls at all and is constantly confounded by them. He surprises me daily with the things he knows and remembers.
The other day Leif and one of his friends was playing at the park as Skadi practiced TBall. I looked over and saw him crawling up the outside of the slide tube. When I went over to him I asked him if that was very safe. He thought for a bit and then replied, “No, but it was impressive.”
We opened a 529 account for the kids awhile back and because I am a geek I maintain a spreadsheet that forecasts the funds growth on a quarterly basis. I set it up and forecasted out and then calculated the year that Leif will go to college. When I realized that I didn’t have to scroll down 3 pages to get to that year it made me a bit ill. My baby is growing up. College is only one Excel page view of quarters away! GAH!
Skadi:
Oh Skadi Skadi Skadi. My sweet little girl… sometimes. The other time she is something else.
We are struggling with Skadi in preschool, out of preschool, through the night… What can I say? It’s darn good that she is as cute as she is! I contemplated last week pulling her out of the Montessori preschool she has been at for three years now. I was *this* close to pulling the trigger. Then AB went in and talked with the teachers a bit and we decided to sit in the holding pattern for a bit. See how things go through the summer.
I talk and talk to that child.
“You had fun on your McDonalds field trip, right?” (She agrees.) “If you don’t behave you will continue to lose field trips and won’t be able to go do these fun things.” (She agrees to be good.)
She is a smart girl. She is pretty mouthy – the other day threats looming that she was bordering upon losing the “Beach Party Day” at school she dared to tell her teachers they could go ahead and take away the privilege from her, she didn’t care, because she planned to tell her mommy to keep her home and we would have our own party and not invite them, so there.
Sigh.
And no, that is so not happening.
She is quick on her feet with her words, but reminds me a lot of my grandmother when she talks, “betend” is “pretend”. “Yesternight” is last night. “Two-head” is still forehead.
This weekend while camping I went over and started poking (or in AB’s words, “fiddling”) with the campfire. My husband is a bit particular about his campfires and with the wet weather this weekend, he had his work cut out for him. Skadi sees me and said, “"Mom, hurry up fiddling with the fire before daddy gets back and sees you!"
The other day Skadi came out of the bathroom and announced, “Mom, I think I am finally old enough to learn how to pee like a boy.”
And then there are days unlike the start of this section where I so agree with her and know she is my daughter, “Leif: "I want to listen to Les Miserables, the Battle Scene in Act 2."
Skadi: "I want to listen to Dancing Queen."
AB:
AB recently had the joy of jury duty. I have always wanted to serve on a jury panel. Yes, seriously. My friends and coworkers look at me like I am nuts when I say this. But for some reason I would like to see first hand our legal system in action. After AB was on a jury panel for a week he can unequivocally say that there is little "action" and that he hopes to never have to rely on our judicial system.
Anyways, I was still jealous. He actually got picked after offering up every reason why he shouldn’t… “I know the prosecutor”, “I work at the same place as the defendant and he looks familiar to me”, “I don’t want to serve, but I know it is my civil duty” (among a group of people who said they did want to serve nonetheless)… but alas he was picked and got to hear abuse stories that still make him cringe. Yeah, maybe I don't want to serve on a jury... I have a friend that served on one about a farmer stealing another one's goats - and a friend's wife who served on a jury about poaching of eagles... nope, AB got a real nasty one.
Work:
My work. Blah.
It’s hard to get very enthused about it when people around me are struggling to find enough work to prevent themselves from being laid off. I am normally in a position to help people out a bit, but this FY, not so. I don’t have much buffer myself. I have even set up an Excel sheet to plan out my upcoming work to make sure I can cover myself. I may be embracing 3-day weekends this summer more than I have in the past.
One of my topics on my list to blog about is the whole “best friend” at work thing. We do these polls that estimate our happiness as a group with our place of employment. Historically my group scores high, which is pretty cool. One of the questions on the poll asks if you have a best friend at work. For years I have been in a position to answer yes to that simply because one of my best friends works here, though I have never had the occasion to work with her. The fact still remains that I have a best friend at work.
In the last few months I have actually had occasion to fully embrace the notion of having a best friend at work in the context of the question. What they want to know is do you have someone you work with that you can go and talk to about what is going on. Sure my good friend down in the other building, who I can’t actually talk to about what I do on a daily basis qualifies to a certain degree. As do the couple of women in my hallway who I can go and talk about daycare or restaurants or hotels, but once again have never really actually worked with them. In the last year I have found my best friends at work… two unassuming guys I work with regularly that I don’t think anyone would really peg them as my “best friends”. But the last 6 months or so they have heard me whine, bitch, cry and complain – and I have heard it from them too. Ok, so they don’t cry. And I only almost cried once.
It’s a big step for me actually. I work on a lot of varied projects with lots of different people and rarely a single core group as so many people do. I get good reviews from people and word of mouth (I believe) is why I am not short on work right now when so many people I know are. I have gotten to know a lot of different people and get called up to do lots of varied projects. I have talked with the two about teaming more regularly and we have a few concepts in the pipeline. I enjoy working with them, appreciate their strong work ethics and we work well as a team. What more could you ask for?
There is a lot of tension here as work is becoming more scarce. Project work has become competitive when jobs are suddenly at stake. While I am funded right now, it is the end of the fiscal year that scares the daylights out of me. Most of my “little” projects wrap up between now and then due to either lack of funding or meeting our completion date. I have a big proposal that was sent out to my least favorite client this morning. One of the guys I wrote the proposal with told me last week that the program manager was already telling him congratulations on it. So I am crossing my fingers that project comes through, though I fully expect another CR and thus actual money won’t arrive until well into FY12 I am sure.
Work… eh, it’s ok. But AB and I have started talking… wonder what else is out there? Where in the world could we wander to? Do we want to live here forever and ever?
Goals:
Ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Yes typically speaking about this time of year my goals start going by the wayside. Summer is just hard to maintain that “do the work around the house” attitude when we have so much we are doing outside and the days are long.
As of today though the quilt is very nearly ready to haul down to the long arm to be quilted. That will be my big checkmark.
AB cleaned the garage pretty well… I intended to help. And I intended to get down and dirty by digging out every last little remnant and adorning the garage with plastic bins and random storage notions.
Well the garage is clean and that is that. My motivation to go out there and work at it more is nill. Not when I have my MIL coming for a visit, a trailer that needs to be cleaned and mopped for the next Father’s Day trip and laundry stacked up to the ceiling upstairs.
June optional goals… if I have time I plan to:
June goal #1 – Think about the outdoor patio kitchen and get some drawings with ideas down on paper.
June goal #2 – detangle my jewelry and figure out something for actual storage of bling that I use on a regular basis.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Yep, I am one of those moms
You know the ones - the ones that share everything hilarious their child says and expects that everyone else will find it every bit as humorous.
Since I have admitted this as a problem, I can embrace it.
--------
Skadi: “Do you know how I got to you?”
Me: “I have an idea...”
Skadi: “God was holding me in his hands like this,” (cups her hands) “and then he said ‘whoops!’ and dropped me into a field of tall grass. You were wandering by and picked me up and said, ‘hmm, I think I will keep this little girl baby’.”
Me: “I remember you being in my tummy.”
Skadi: “I wasn’t finished mom. THEN you cut your tummy open and tucked me in, pulled your tummy back together and taped it up really good until I got too big to be in there, then you RIPPED the tape off and out I came!”
Hmm...
----------
Leif with a pained tone to his voice:
"Mom, I am having trouble. It feels like granvity isn't working on my boxer shorts!"
Since I have admitted this as a problem, I can embrace it.
--------
Skadi: “Do you know how I got to you?”
Me: “I have an idea...”
Skadi: “God was holding me in his hands like this,” (cups her hands) “and then he said ‘whoops!’ and dropped me into a field of tall grass. You were wandering by and picked me up and said, ‘hmm, I think I will keep this little girl baby’.”
Me: “I remember you being in my tummy.”
Skadi: “I wasn’t finished mom. THEN you cut your tummy open and tucked me in, pulled your tummy back together and taped it up really good until I got too big to be in there, then you RIPPED the tape off and out I came!”
Hmm...
----------
Leif with a pained tone to his voice:
"Mom, I am having trouble. It feels like granvity isn't working on my boxer shorts!"
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
One of "those" parents?
T-ball game. My daughter in her dress, pink leggings and green t-ball shirt is out in the field. Daddy is behind her – about half the parents are out there.
The ball comes straight to Skadi, she has it! Then that other little brat rips it out of her hand! Then my husband pries the ball out of the little brats hand and hands it back to Skadi.
Parents gasp.
Sigh.
We are a proud YMCA sports family. We appreciate their lack of competitiveness among the younger set. We have participated since Leif was Skadi’s age – that would be for going on three years now – and have taken our turns at coaching.
Every team we have participated on before has had a great coach. Caring, fair, kids adore them. When AB has coached we have for the most part had good experiences. As a coach you are volunteering your time for the sake of the kids. It isn’t just a two hour a week obligation (one hour practice and one hour game). Nope, there is organizing the snacks. Calling parents when games are cancelled (this spring there was a lot of that for these coaches). Thinking up drills. Engaging the kids and generally keeping them corralled with help from the parents (you always hope). Organizing the end of the year party. Ordering trophies.
As coaches, we have had a few parents get mad at us. There was the Indoor Soccer team that we cancelled the picture day (team agreed) and decided to do pictures on our own as the picture day was horribly inconvenient. Of course, there was one parent who missed the e-mails and showed up with her son at the appointed place and time. And she was ticked. And gave us an earful. And we took it all the while mumbling, “but we sent 3 e-mails and talked about it at the prior practice and game?!?”
Then we got chewed out this spring because one of the boys last fall was “never contacted”. Umm he was. We e-mailed the e-mail address we were given for every single update, we phoned twice and the number was disconnected. But apparently we didn’t try hard enough… we finally got a not so happy e-mail back this spring.
But we move on.
2/3’s of the t-ball season has been me. AB and Leif had soccer and other obligations pretty consistently. So AB just got to hear my whining about the coaches and kept reminding me “they are volunteers”.
Skadi is on a team with one other very demure little girl and 8 very rough and tumble boys. Leif is not so rough and tumble. He loves sports and gets in there, but he isn’t and never has been aggressive like I see many of these little boys behaving. The first two practices I thought Skadi was going to hold her own. She got into the dog piles and often came out on top. My friend commented that t-ball really meant tackle ball.
Two practices was about her limit. Then she quit getting into the mix.
And here is the cycle:
Skadi standing waiting for the ball.
Skadi runs to the ball.
Skadi doesn’t get the ball.
Skadi gets frustrated.
“Nobody EVER lets me get the ball!”
Skadi doesn’t get the ball.
Skadi gets bored and wanders off and wants to play on the playground equipment.
Skadi doesn’t want to go back out into the field.
The female coach has been a touch sympathetic towards her, “come on Skadi, let’s you and me get the ball from these boys!”
And she buys it for a few hits.
And if she is lucky she gets a ball and it sustains her for the inning.
And if not the cycle repeats.
I know my daughter is difficult. I know she is a whole bunch of drama wrapped up inside one little girl. I know she is one child in a team of 10. But come on.
The male coach ignores her and gets visibly annoyed with her when she starts screwing around. (But the boys can roll all over the ground and battle each other.)
For the later third of the season AB started showing up since soccer finished – and going into the field with Skadi – and running the bases with Skadi – in an effort to keep his thumb on her and to help her out a bit. Still Skadi never gets to play first base (the coveted position since the players all throw the balls to first base) and is consistently one of the last batters.
And I bite my tongue, because the coaches are doing their best and they are volunteering their time. I didn’t step up (this time).
Then there was last night. Skadi is in the field next to one of the bratty boys. I saw him step on her hand to release the ball. Skadi cried. I saw him pry the ball out of her hand three times. AB talked to both coaches, who shrugged their shoulders.
See we don’t tolerate bullies on our teams when we coach. They sit out. And parents are usually – or at least they act that way towards us – very supportive.
So when I saw AB pry the ball out of the brats hands and give it to Skadi. I sighed. I looked around at the parents scowling. And my friend I was standing with proclaimed, “go daddy! Stand up for your girl!”
The brat started bawling. Dad picked him up, glaring at AB.
AB came off the field saying, “I don’t think I made any friends.”
Yeah probably not. But my daughter finally got her hand on the ball and with that experience she can maybe finish out the season.
T-Ball – not Skadi’s sport. Swimming is still looking like the winner.
The ball comes straight to Skadi, she has it! Then that other little brat rips it out of her hand! Then my husband pries the ball out of the little brats hand and hands it back to Skadi.
Parents gasp.
Sigh.
We are a proud YMCA sports family. We appreciate their lack of competitiveness among the younger set. We have participated since Leif was Skadi’s age – that would be for going on three years now – and have taken our turns at coaching.
Every team we have participated on before has had a great coach. Caring, fair, kids adore them. When AB has coached we have for the most part had good experiences. As a coach you are volunteering your time for the sake of the kids. It isn’t just a two hour a week obligation (one hour practice and one hour game). Nope, there is organizing the snacks. Calling parents when games are cancelled (this spring there was a lot of that for these coaches). Thinking up drills. Engaging the kids and generally keeping them corralled with help from the parents (you always hope). Organizing the end of the year party. Ordering trophies.
As coaches, we have had a few parents get mad at us. There was the Indoor Soccer team that we cancelled the picture day (team agreed) and decided to do pictures on our own as the picture day was horribly inconvenient. Of course, there was one parent who missed the e-mails and showed up with her son at the appointed place and time. And she was ticked. And gave us an earful. And we took it all the while mumbling, “but we sent 3 e-mails and talked about it at the prior practice and game?!?”
Then we got chewed out this spring because one of the boys last fall was “never contacted”. Umm he was. We e-mailed the e-mail address we were given for every single update, we phoned twice and the number was disconnected. But apparently we didn’t try hard enough… we finally got a not so happy e-mail back this spring.
But we move on.
2/3’s of the t-ball season has been me. AB and Leif had soccer and other obligations pretty consistently. So AB just got to hear my whining about the coaches and kept reminding me “they are volunteers”.
Skadi is on a team with one other very demure little girl and 8 very rough and tumble boys. Leif is not so rough and tumble. He loves sports and gets in there, but he isn’t and never has been aggressive like I see many of these little boys behaving. The first two practices I thought Skadi was going to hold her own. She got into the dog piles and often came out on top. My friend commented that t-ball really meant tackle ball.
Two practices was about her limit. Then she quit getting into the mix.
And here is the cycle:
Skadi standing waiting for the ball.
Skadi runs to the ball.
Skadi doesn’t get the ball.
Skadi gets frustrated.
“Nobody EVER lets me get the ball!”
Skadi doesn’t get the ball.
Skadi gets bored and wanders off and wants to play on the playground equipment.
Skadi doesn’t want to go back out into the field.
The female coach has been a touch sympathetic towards her, “come on Skadi, let’s you and me get the ball from these boys!”
And she buys it for a few hits.
And if she is lucky she gets a ball and it sustains her for the inning.
And if not the cycle repeats.
I know my daughter is difficult. I know she is a whole bunch of drama wrapped up inside one little girl. I know she is one child in a team of 10. But come on.
The male coach ignores her and gets visibly annoyed with her when she starts screwing around. (But the boys can roll all over the ground and battle each other.)
For the later third of the season AB started showing up since soccer finished – and going into the field with Skadi – and running the bases with Skadi – in an effort to keep his thumb on her and to help her out a bit. Still Skadi never gets to play first base (the coveted position since the players all throw the balls to first base) and is consistently one of the last batters.
And I bite my tongue, because the coaches are doing their best and they are volunteering their time. I didn’t step up (this time).
Then there was last night. Skadi is in the field next to one of the bratty boys. I saw him step on her hand to release the ball. Skadi cried. I saw him pry the ball out of her hand three times. AB talked to both coaches, who shrugged their shoulders.
See we don’t tolerate bullies on our teams when we coach. They sit out. And parents are usually – or at least they act that way towards us – very supportive.
So when I saw AB pry the ball out of the brats hands and give it to Skadi. I sighed. I looked around at the parents scowling. And my friend I was standing with proclaimed, “go daddy! Stand up for your girl!”
The brat started bawling. Dad picked him up, glaring at AB.
AB came off the field saying, “I don’t think I made any friends.”
Yeah probably not. But my daughter finally got her hand on the ball and with that experience she can maybe finish out the season.
T-Ball – not Skadi’s sport. Swimming is still looking like the winner.
Monday, May 09, 2011
More stories from the castle
Skadi: "Mom what colors of flowers do you like?"
Me: "Purple, white, all colors."
Skadi: "Do you like green flowers?"
Me: "Yes, I haven't seen many green flowers."
Skadi: "That's what color of flowers I have at my castle."
--------------
Skadi: "Mom, don't you wish you had a car with a bathroom inside?"
Me: "Not really."
Skadi: "Why?"
Me: "Because it would be stinky."
Skadi: "At my castle I have a car with a bathroom inside and we drive it all over the place and we don't even have to stop to go to the bathroom!"
--------------
At dinner tonight:
Leif: "Mrs. T got thrown from a horse one day a long time ago and she broke her arm and the bone came through the skin."
Me: "Eww!" (Feeling a bit nauseated at the thought.)
Skadi: "That happened to me too."
Me: "Thankfully, you have never broken a bone."
Skadi: "Yes, I did at my castle, and the bone came out, but the skin healed up just fine. See?" (Shows me her arm.)
Me: "Purple, white, all colors."
Skadi: "Do you like green flowers?"
Me: "Yes, I haven't seen many green flowers."
Skadi: "That's what color of flowers I have at my castle."
--------------
Skadi: "Mom, don't you wish you had a car with a bathroom inside?"
Me: "Not really."
Skadi: "Why?"
Me: "Because it would be stinky."
Skadi: "At my castle I have a car with a bathroom inside and we drive it all over the place and we don't even have to stop to go to the bathroom!"
--------------
At dinner tonight:
Leif: "Mrs. T got thrown from a horse one day a long time ago and she broke her arm and the bone came through the skin."
Me: "Eww!" (Feeling a bit nauseated at the thought.)
Skadi: "That happened to me too."
Me: "Thankfully, you have never broken a bone."
Skadi: "Yes, I did at my castle, and the bone came out, but the skin healed up just fine. See?" (Shows me her arm.)
Monday, April 25, 2011
All I wanted...
You know I don't ask for much... 
Really, I don't.
You would think I was a horribly insistent mom.
Abusive? Am I abusive?
Just one...
Please, pretty please?
Thank goodness this is a digital camera and not film.
Both of you, look this way...
I am serious now.
Look at me! Both of you. Smile. Hold still.
What is it going to take?
Seriously, I am not going to get a single picture of you guys with your eggs?
I am serious now.
Look at me! Both of you. Smile. Hold still.
What is it going to take?
Seriously, I am not going to get a single picture of you guys with your eggs?
Guess not.
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