And a Happy Independence Day to you and yours. We had a delightful day. We were fairly loungy and lazy (a rarity for us) until the afternoon when our friends Sara & Greg and Larissa & daughter Abby joined us. We brought a picnic dinner down to the park (about a ½ mile walk from the house) and played and hung out until the fireworks at 10.
The Martin boys were champs. Matthew – always the cautious and sensitive one – was a little apprehensive. Loud noises have always made him nervous, so we brought my big rocker-type, sound-cancelling headphones for him to wear. That seemed to do the trick as shortly after the show started Matthew yelled, “Hey! I like fireworks. Actually, they’re awesome. They’re awesome because they’re beautiful.” (Look, we know I like to embellish a bit, but I promise you that anything put in quotations is verbatim what these little people said. Half the stuff that comes out of their mouths is too good for even my imagination to come up with).
Now, quick change of topic: I wish to address the differences between men and women. And they are different – these differences – ever so different. I’m by no means an expert on all the idiosyncrasies of the genders, but I do have a fair amount of experience what with having a fair amount of guy friends, two brothers, a dad, a husband, and two boys. So, let me just state outright that Mike is a phenomenal father and spousal unit – totally hands on, devoted and wonderful. OK, now that I have that out of the way, let me also say that Mike is a man. Obviously. And therefore he shares some of the generic qualities that all Homo sapiens of the male persuasion seem to exude. The most prevalent issue, I think – the biggest difference between us (man and woman) – is man’s inability to multitask. He just can’t. Just plain and simple, he is incapable of thinking or doing more than one thing/task at a time.
An example: this afternoon I started a load of laundry, I took out the garbage on my way outside to get the sprinkler going to water the flowers, listened to an audio book while I did the dishes, talked on the phone while I moved the sprinkler and then moved the laundry, thought about dinner plans when I walked up to take care of my out-of-town neighbor’s yard, came back home, turned off the sprinkler, and folded laundry while watching Mike and Matthew have their ‘bonding’ time (playing the Lego Batman game on the Wii). I made sure to carry the laundry on my way up the stairs and deliver it to rooms before I cleaned the kitchen floor which I did while occasionally reading through emails.
Now, this, I promise, is not to illustrate all that I did this afternoon, because it was, for the record, pretty dang productive and impressive (and not necessarily completely typical of a Sunday afternoon). What I wish to show is how, when I start one task, I am immediately thinking about starting another project or am already working on the undertaking of said additional project. I plan my time so that I can get the most bang for my buck, so that I can be as productive as possible, SO THAT I can just sit and relax at some point…to read, or write, or watch a movie, etc.
So, I’ve given you an example of what I did. And realistically, I did a fair amount of that (the first several tasks, maybe even about the first half of the list) in approximately 30 minutes. When we were getting lunch prepared this afternoon Mike put chicken in the oven…and commenced…to pace. I looked around the kitchen – the piles of post-4th of July crappola heaped on the ‘peninsula’ – and said, “Um, I would love it if instead of pacing you helped me put this stuff away.” OK, so, I have since learned, after our ‘discussion’ that there is a better way to ask him to a.) stop pacing and b.) start helping. I am, of course, a little perplexed as to why I even need to c.25-h4) ask for his help in the first place. But I was informed that, literally, this would be his typical thought process during this scenario: I have successfully put the chicken in the oven and set the timer, so now it is my duty to wait for the timer to inform me that the chicken is done at which point I will turn off the timer and remove the chicken from the oven. Now, I wait for the chicken timer to ding. I am waiting upon the chicken.
(Yes, this is my interpretation of his thought process.)
Dude. Do you know what I could do until the chicken was done? I could have a whole bathtub grouted (if I knew how to grout), or an apron sewed (if I knew how to sew); a child birthed (if I was capable of birthing a child); I could have the entire world saved from the evil of mankind (if I was capable of miracle-working). That’s how freakin’ productive I am, my people. But instead: We wait. For. The Chicken.
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Yesterday, I got out my flute – something I just don’t do enough anymore but am determined to remedy this summer. The boys, who I admit hadn’t seen me play in a while, were unwilling to be upstaged by my performance and immediately joined in. Matthew was the conductor/slash/occasional drummer and Zachary was the karaoke singer/slash/drummer. They really made me experience some of my favorite pieces in a whole new light.
Did you know, for example, that the Allegro Maestoso movement of Mozart’s Concerto for Flute and Orchestra in G major is actually about PIZZA?! I kid you not. The entire piece is one long ode to the food. And what a masterpiece indeed – the way Mozart weaved the word ‘pizza’ on repeat throughout the entire movement is quite genius as was Zach’s performance and dedication to the work.
And with Matthew alternating conducting and offering a strong percussive beat, the Allegro Moderato of my Bach Sonata was anything but Moderato. That was the fastest Moderato I’ve ever heard! I just couldn’t quite keep up despite serious effort on my part. The highlight of the whole concert, for the boys, was when we all took bows at the end – over and over and over and over. Apparently there was serious applause and endless laudation for our musical presentation as the bows and curtsies continued for quite a while.
Later, Zach randomly started talking to himself about the new penguin ‘house’ at the zoo. His little badinage went on for a while discussing the penguins and how much he likes them, etc. Then, all of a sudden, He addressed me.
“Mommy,” Zach said, “The penguins have a tat. They have a new have a tat.”
Then he laughed, and in a tone of amused self-mockery explained, “I don’t say HABIPAT! That’s what I said when I was a BABY!!! I say HAVE A TAT now!!!” Oh, to have that kind of self-confidence and pride.
Did you know, for example, that the Allegro Maestoso movement of Mozart’s Concerto for Flute and Orchestra in G major is actually about PIZZA?! I kid you not. The entire piece is one long ode to the food. And what a masterpiece indeed – the way Mozart weaved the word ‘pizza’ on repeat throughout the entire movement is quite genius as was Zach’s performance and dedication to the work.
And with Matthew alternating conducting and offering a strong percussive beat, the Allegro Moderato of my Bach Sonata was anything but Moderato. That was the fastest Moderato I’ve ever heard! I just couldn’t quite keep up despite serious effort on my part. The highlight of the whole concert, for the boys, was when we all took bows at the end – over and over and over and over. Apparently there was serious applause and endless laudation for our musical presentation as the bows and curtsies continued for quite a while.
Later, Zach randomly started talking to himself about the new penguin ‘house’ at the zoo. His little badinage went on for a while discussing the penguins and how much he likes them, etc. Then, all of a sudden, He addressed me.
“Mommy,” Zach said, “The penguins have a tat. They have a new have a tat.”
Then he laughed, and in a tone of amused self-mockery explained, “I don’t say HABIPAT! That’s what I said when I was a BABY!!! I say HAVE A TAT now!!!” Oh, to have that kind of self-confidence and pride.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
The other day, after swim lessons, the boys and I saw that our neighbor was outside. Hilda and her husband Walt Sr. live two doors down. They are in their ‘70’s and put more work into their backyard than anyone I know. The yard is tricked out with 20 gas Tiki torches, a three-tier terraced garden complete with wooden foot bridge and small café table. This entire oasis, this sanctuary of garden glee, can be enjoyed with the added benefit of the constant babbling and gentle rumbling of their three tier, waterfall and, of course, coy-filled pond.
Hilda is sadly suffering the consequences of fifty years of smoking. She’s done all the Chemo that she can, but it appears her Lung Cancer is beyond help at this point. In October, they gave her less than a year. She now stays in most of the time, venturing out rarely – even to enjoy their pride-and-joy backyard. When the weather is nice enough she occasionally gets outside. She usually only makes it as far as the driveway, where she sits in her electric wheelchair, bald head glinting in the sun, watching their son Walt Jr. work on a car engine or do yard work.
This was what she was doing when we walked over to visit. There was a younger woman with Hilda who, as we approached, disappeared into the house. The boys were a little shy, but did offer Walt Jr. the use of their construction cone to put out in the street since he was working. (The cone goes out when we’re riding bikes …that and Matthew’s police officer stance and arm stretched out signally ‘stop’ usually works well in slowing the occasional car that goes by).
The woman who had disappeared into the house, I learned was Hilda’s daughter Pauline. The moment that Hilda saw that we were going to stop by for a visit she sent Pauline into the house to fetch candy for the boys! She had a huge Hershey bar and Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups for each of them. So nice. Matthew immediately said a nice and loud, “Thank you” to Hilda for which I was very grateful. Zach decided to be super shy all of a sudden (rare for that one), and he refused to say ‘thank you.’
But you know what he did say when he was ready to talk?!
Referring to the wrapped Reece’s PB Cups, he all of a sudden said, “My mommy will eat the orange ones.” Dude. Totally blew my cover. The ladies thought that was quite funny.
Zachary. What a charmer! The sweetheart knows how to flirt, how to lay on thick compliments, but yet also knows how to say it like it is.
Today, Zachary was sitting at the table while I made eggs for breakfast. “Mommy,” he said, “You’re a hot girl.” Um, excuse me? Well, yes, it’s true, and I’m so flattered but… “’Cuz,” he continued, “You do hot stuff like cooking on the stove.” Well, so much for that compliment.
Hilda is sadly suffering the consequences of fifty years of smoking. She’s done all the Chemo that she can, but it appears her Lung Cancer is beyond help at this point. In October, they gave her less than a year. She now stays in most of the time, venturing out rarely – even to enjoy their pride-and-joy backyard. When the weather is nice enough she occasionally gets outside. She usually only makes it as far as the driveway, where she sits in her electric wheelchair, bald head glinting in the sun, watching their son Walt Jr. work on a car engine or do yard work.
This was what she was doing when we walked over to visit. There was a younger woman with Hilda who, as we approached, disappeared into the house. The boys were a little shy, but did offer Walt Jr. the use of their construction cone to put out in the street since he was working. (The cone goes out when we’re riding bikes …that and Matthew’s police officer stance and arm stretched out signally ‘stop’ usually works well in slowing the occasional car that goes by).
The woman who had disappeared into the house, I learned was Hilda’s daughter Pauline. The moment that Hilda saw that we were going to stop by for a visit she sent Pauline into the house to fetch candy for the boys! She had a huge Hershey bar and Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups for each of them. So nice. Matthew immediately said a nice and loud, “Thank you” to Hilda for which I was very grateful. Zach decided to be super shy all of a sudden (rare for that one), and he refused to say ‘thank you.’
But you know what he did say when he was ready to talk?!
Referring to the wrapped Reece’s PB Cups, he all of a sudden said, “My mommy will eat the orange ones.” Dude. Totally blew my cover. The ladies thought that was quite funny.
Zachary. What a charmer! The sweetheart knows how to flirt, how to lay on thick compliments, but yet also knows how to say it like it is.
Today, Zachary was sitting at the table while I made eggs for breakfast. “Mommy,” he said, “You’re a hot girl.” Um, excuse me? Well, yes, it’s true, and I’m so flattered but… “’Cuz,” he continued, “You do hot stuff like cooking on the stove.” Well, so much for that compliment.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Yesterday, while I made dinner, the boys were playing nicely together in the living room (Allelulia!). Matthew started laughing and then I listened cautiously as a debate began. They were arguing over the correct pronunciation of the word “brother.”
Matthew said, “No, Zach, it’s not broDer, it’s broVer.”
Zach, obviously a passionate supporter for the opposing team immediately countered with, “Nu-uh. It’s broDer.”
They went back and forth for a while and then both seemed to come to an unspoken truce – they would continue on with their own versions of the correct way to say “brother” knowing all the while that their broDer/broVer was totally wrong. (Meanwhile, I continued to tiptoe around the kitchen hoping that they wouldn’t be reminded of my presence and therefore come harass me with all sorts of needs – the nerve).
Matthew said, “No, Zach, it’s not broDer, it’s broVer.”
Zach, obviously a passionate supporter for the opposing team immediately countered with, “Nu-uh. It’s broDer.”
They went back and forth for a while and then both seemed to come to an unspoken truce – they would continue on with their own versions of the correct way to say “brother” knowing all the while that their broDer/broVer was totally wrong. (Meanwhile, I continued to tiptoe around the kitchen hoping that they wouldn’t be reminded of my presence and therefore come harass me with all sorts of needs – the nerve).
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
It appears that in the summer, Mike’s night owl status tends to rub off on me a bit. And I’m not a fan. Staying up late means that I don’t always get my early morning runs in or writing time or me time. I need to get back on track. Today was good though, I was out of bed by 6 and did some much needed yoga-meditation time. See, this summer is all about decluttering – my house, my life, MY SOUL. I’m really trying to come up with some kind of a schedule so that everyone’s needs can be met, everything on the to-do list gets checked off and fun is had by all. Uh, maybe this is my definition of heaven and a somewhat unobtainable goal, but whatevs; I’ll still aim for perfection!
All in all, the summer break has been good for the boys so far, we’ve had a tad more at-home time than usual. Matthew and I have been practicing reading and have daily work/reading time and then reward time. He usually chooses to play a preschool game on pbskids.org for his reward. It’s a little freaky how well my five year old can navigate the web! (Although, yes, I’m very careful, and all his web-time is done with careful supervision). But he is Mike’s son, so I suppose Matthew’s computer savviness shouldn’t surprise us too much.
And speaking of computers, yes, I stink. It’s taken me three full weeks to get my Chicago pictures up, but at last here are some of my faves.
First you'll see pictures of my time in Lake Geneva with my dear friend Katherine and her parentals. Scrolling further down are the pictures from my Chicago time-- with my cousins, uncles and aunt.
All in all, the summer break has been good for the boys so far, we’ve had a tad more at-home time than usual. Matthew and I have been practicing reading and have daily work/reading time and then reward time. He usually chooses to play a preschool game on pbskids.org for his reward. It’s a little freaky how well my five year old can navigate the web! (Although, yes, I’m very careful, and all his web-time is done with careful supervision). But he is Mike’s son, so I suppose Matthew’s computer savviness shouldn’t surprise us too much.
And speaking of computers, yes, I stink. It’s taken me three full weeks to get my Chicago pictures up, but at last here are some of my faves.
First you'll see pictures of my time in Lake Geneva with my dear friend Katherine and her parentals. Scrolling further down are the pictures from my Chicago time-- with my cousins, uncles and aunt.
Sunday, June 07, 2009
After much anticipation, our promo video for the 2010 National Engaged Encounter Convention is unleashed upon the world. Check it out!! http://vimeo.com/5032979
The boys watched it so many times that they began quoting lines from it. They were arguing over whether or not the Easter Bunny is a boy or a girl. (Why this question was being debated is beyond me). And Matthew said (quoting his super hero father), "It matters not..." Then he continued, "Because there are two Easter Bunnies -- one is a girl and one is a boy." And then later, out of the blue, Zachary told me that I needed to "reboot my relationship..." with whom or what though I'm unsure!
Enjoy the video though! It was a super fun (SUPER LONG) process, and I do think that in another life I'd definitely explore my super-hero persona as well as pursuing my acting and voice-over career.
The boys watched it so many times that they began quoting lines from it. They were arguing over whether or not the Easter Bunny is a boy or a girl. (Why this question was being debated is beyond me). And Matthew said (quoting his super hero father), "It matters not..." Then he continued, "Because there are two Easter Bunnies -- one is a girl and one is a boy." And then later, out of the blue, Zachary told me that I needed to "reboot my relationship..." with whom or what though I'm unsure!
Enjoy the video though! It was a super fun (SUPER LONG) process, and I do think that in another life I'd definitely explore my super-hero persona as well as pursuing my acting and voice-over career.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
I know, I know, it’s kinda been a while since I last updated, and I have yet to post my Chicago-trip pics. It’ll happen, someday. I have no one to blame on the tardiness and blog-slackage except…my children. Yes, I’ll blame them. Sing it with me now: SCHOOL’S OUT FOR SUMMER. SCHOOL’S OUT FOREVER. Sadly, Matthew’s days as a preschooler (and it was a lot of days! THREE years’ worth!) have come to an end. We bid adieu last week to his teachers and buddies and his lengthy preschool career. I’m quite thankful that Zach will be in the same preschool for at least two more years. I’m definitely not ready to say goodbye permanently yet.
So, here we are officially on Day Two of Summer Vacation and based on the boys’ behavior the last couple of days, I’m already counting down to the start of school. I even said to Matthew yesterday after multiple time-outs, “Dude, it’s going to be a LONG summer if you have to spend it all in time-out.” I don’t know what his deal was. Maybe he’s going through the grieving process of closing a monumental chapter in his life. I should respect his need to work through this transition and all of the mixed emotions that come with it. Yeah right. I’m not respecting anything if it means letting him burp in my face, yell and slam doors. Process-Shmocess. The kid was a-ca-razy man yesterday. I hope this ‘phase’ passes quickly or I seriously may be signing MYSELF up for summer school.
Looking way back to when things were good (like last week) – the boys were so happy to have me home from the Windy City. Mike did a phenomenal job with holding down the fort whilst I was away, but he was awfully glad to have me back! I felt ever-so-appreciated. And then he immediately disappeared into work and work on the EE Convention website. He has a deadline this Friday, so the poor man didn’t get home from work until 10:30 last night.
Thankfully at least one night last week, he was home early enough for us to barbeque and eat out on the deck. Issue Number One: I spilled my glass of wine. It makes me so very sad to see perfectly good wine go to waste but I resisted from licking the puddle off the deck. Issue Number Two: I somehow managed – and I still don’t know how – to stab myself in the cheek with my small, two pronged corn on the cob holder. Blood and all…two little pokes like I’d been bitten by a lost and confused vampire. Mike accused me of wanting to add to my facial piercing.
Post Issues One and Two, came, you guessed it! Issue Number Three: I was sweeping the deck and nearly poked out Mike’s eye with the broom handle. He quickly gathered the children to him and shepherded them inside to safety, saying, “Boys, let’s get inside before Mommy hurts anyone else.” I don’t know what my damage was! Maybe I was just all excited for our weekend plans.
On Saturday morning, we got to attend a private screening of the new Pixar film “Up.” We ALL loved it. I then got to see my favoritest college roommate Liane (who also was a bridesmaid and my marathon running buddy) for her baby shower. We then went to church, took the boys out to a fun diner for burgers and classic car show, came home, got them to bed, and then I headed out for my birthday celebratory Girls’ Night. Phew! It was quite the packed day! And then Sunday we went to a friends’ house for a BBQ. Needless-to-say, I thought Summer Vacation was off to a grand start…hmmm, just need to get the boys on board with this no-school phenomenon. Who-da thought that they’d be the ones having issues with all of our fun-in-the-sun free time?! Weirdos! =o)
So, here we are officially on Day Two of Summer Vacation and based on the boys’ behavior the last couple of days, I’m already counting down to the start of school. I even said to Matthew yesterday after multiple time-outs, “Dude, it’s going to be a LONG summer if you have to spend it all in time-out.” I don’t know what his deal was. Maybe he’s going through the grieving process of closing a monumental chapter in his life. I should respect his need to work through this transition and all of the mixed emotions that come with it. Yeah right. I’m not respecting anything if it means letting him burp in my face, yell and slam doors. Process-Shmocess. The kid was a-ca-razy man yesterday. I hope this ‘phase’ passes quickly or I seriously may be signing MYSELF up for summer school.
Looking way back to when things were good (like last week) – the boys were so happy to have me home from the Windy City. Mike did a phenomenal job with holding down the fort whilst I was away, but he was awfully glad to have me back! I felt ever-so-appreciated. And then he immediately disappeared into work and work on the EE Convention website. He has a deadline this Friday, so the poor man didn’t get home from work until 10:30 last night.
Thankfully at least one night last week, he was home early enough for us to barbeque and eat out on the deck. Issue Number One: I spilled my glass of wine. It makes me so very sad to see perfectly good wine go to waste but I resisted from licking the puddle off the deck. Issue Number Two: I somehow managed – and I still don’t know how – to stab myself in the cheek with my small, two pronged corn on the cob holder. Blood and all…two little pokes like I’d been bitten by a lost and confused vampire. Mike accused me of wanting to add to my facial piercing.
Post Issues One and Two, came, you guessed it! Issue Number Three: I was sweeping the deck and nearly poked out Mike’s eye with the broom handle. He quickly gathered the children to him and shepherded them inside to safety, saying, “Boys, let’s get inside before Mommy hurts anyone else.” I don’t know what my damage was! Maybe I was just all excited for our weekend plans.
On Saturday morning, we got to attend a private screening of the new Pixar film “Up.” We ALL loved it. I then got to see my favoritest college roommate Liane (who also was a bridesmaid and my marathon running buddy) for her baby shower. We then went to church, took the boys out to a fun diner for burgers and classic car show, came home, got them to bed, and then I headed out for my birthday celebratory Girls’ Night. Phew! It was quite the packed day! And then Sunday we went to a friends’ house for a BBQ. Needless-to-say, I thought Summer Vacation was off to a grand start…hmmm, just need to get the boys on board with this no-school phenomenon. Who-da thought that they’d be the ones having issues with all of our fun-in-the-sun free time?! Weirdos! =o)
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Sunday, May 25th, 3:55pm
Get this: I am currently sitting in Chicago O’Hare International Airport. I am one of the 1.3 million people to pass through this airport in the past three days. I am here, chillin’ in the food court, with some of my 1.3 million traveling friends. I just bought a sesame seed bagel with cream cheese from the Dunkin’ Donuts booth (it was the only thing that cost less than $5. I’d like to get some fresh fruit, but it costs $4.30 for a dinky cup. Forget it). I lugged Kara – the – Laptop all the way to Chicago and yet, just now is the first that I’ve taken it out to actually write. So much for using my get-away weekend as an opportunity to work on my first award-winning bestseller! I was just having too much fun doing other stuff! I’m forcing myself to get it out now, so the lugging was not in vain.
I’ve had a marvelous Memorial Day/Birthday/get-away weekend! Ooh, and I just made a friend. A fellow-laptop-toting chic-y from San Fran just joined me in my little half-moon shaped booth. I’m trying to look very intellectual and focused on my VERY cerebral, existential blog-writing…except that I realized I had a sesame seed stuck to my lip when I was talking to her. Oh well, she asked me if I’d come to Chicago for a “LABOR Day get-away.”
My trip got off to a great start. I tried to convince Matthew in the car on the way to the airport, that I’d be OK without him.
“Mom,” he said, “You won’t have any fun without us. You’ll miss us too much.” I decided NOT to tell him that I’d have fun BECAUSE it was a bit of a get-away from the offspring. I promised him that, while yes, it would be dreary on my own; I’d do my best to have a semi-OK time.
My direct flight arrived not only on-time but early to O’Hare. My cousin Anne picked me up and took us to her home where I stayed for Thursday and Friday night. I got to meet her littlest Grace (14 months)…[OK, now my laptop friend is reading OUTLOUD. I don’t like her anymore. I don’t want to share my table anymore.] I also saw her husband Mark (obviously) and their four-year-old Jack who for some of Friday referred to me as ‘Company.’ “Look at this, Company…let me show you this, Company.” Then when Anne reminded him this is “Cousin Jenny;” I’m pretty sure that I answered to just “Cousin” for a while.
Friday, Anne was kind enough to have lunch for me, her parents (my aunt Jackie and uncle Paul) and our uncle Kevin. And then on Friday night, we walked to a Mexican restaurant for dinner with my other cousin David. Good family reunion times!
Saturday morning, Anne and I headed into downtown. We wandered up to Millennium Park and saw “The Bean” as well as a water fountain-pond-dealy that shows images of people taken from photos. Hard to explain but cool. Then, Anne and I went on a 90 minute boat tour along the Chicago River and out onto Lake Michigan. I got some very excellent touristy photos taken and learned some fascinating historical facts. I love me a good boat tour! That’s how I saw much of Europe. Boat tours rule.
After our boat tour, we’d been given very specific instructions from my parents to experience the beauty of Chicago deep-dish pizza at Pizzeria Uno or Due. We opted for Uno, though later my dad said, he would’ve suggested Due. (Guess those instructions weren’t quite as specific as they could’ve been)! We shared a “Spinoccoli” pizza – spinach and broccoli with just the right amount of pizza sauce, cheese and deep-dishy goodness. Post-lunch, Anne deposited me at Union Station where I caught the train to meet up with my good friend Katherine at her parents’ house in Deerfield.
It was so great seeing my adorable little pregnant Army wife friend! She looks wonderful, and now we just need to all pray that Dan’s expected arrival from Iraq in early August is in time for the expected arrival of their baby in mid-August! Katherine and I drove, following her parents, to their place in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. Holy Majoly! There are some swanky digs along that lake!
On Sunday morning (my 29th Birthday!), after church in town, Katherine’s parentals took us out on their new motor boat. It was a gorgeous day! Katherine and I later went for a run along the lake shore and got a closer look at some of the mega-mansions. After my shower, I sat on the deck in a rocking chair, drinking wine and reading my book. That is birthday perfection, my friends. We concluded our delightful weekend with dinner at a seafood restaurant in town and ice cream at a local chocolaterie.
This morning, Katherine and parents bid me farewell and I caught the train back to Chicago where Anne picked me up. We went to see yet another cousin – Mark, his wife Kim and their 6 week old baby Joshua! We walked through their ‘urban chic’ neighborhood to a cute, funky diner for lunch. We had a great visit! It’s been really fun getting to know these cousins who I heard about growing up but really hadn’t spent any time with. Now, I just hope that it won’t be another 20 years before we all get together!
So, alas, that’s a brief summary of Birthday ’09. All in all, a perfectly great combo of sight-seeing, spending time with a wonderful friend, reuniting with awesome family and having some serious relaxation. Oh, and possibly the coolest most magical discovery of all: at O’Hare Airport and Union train Station, the toilets are equipped with automatic toilet seat rotating covers. So, when you go, you’ve got yourself a clean butt seat to utilize. I think it’s genius, fascinating, and I admit I spent some time waving my hand in front of the sensor just to see the cover rotate!
Now, back to my boys!!!
Get this: I am currently sitting in Chicago O’Hare International Airport. I am one of the 1.3 million people to pass through this airport in the past three days. I am here, chillin’ in the food court, with some of my 1.3 million traveling friends. I just bought a sesame seed bagel with cream cheese from the Dunkin’ Donuts booth (it was the only thing that cost less than $5. I’d like to get some fresh fruit, but it costs $4.30 for a dinky cup. Forget it). I lugged Kara – the – Laptop all the way to Chicago and yet, just now is the first that I’ve taken it out to actually write. So much for using my get-away weekend as an opportunity to work on my first award-winning bestseller! I was just having too much fun doing other stuff! I’m forcing myself to get it out now, so the lugging was not in vain.
I’ve had a marvelous Memorial Day/Birthday/get-away weekend! Ooh, and I just made a friend. A fellow-laptop-toting chic-y from San Fran just joined me in my little half-moon shaped booth. I’m trying to look very intellectual and focused on my VERY cerebral, existential blog-writing…except that I realized I had a sesame seed stuck to my lip when I was talking to her. Oh well, she asked me if I’d come to Chicago for a “LABOR Day get-away.”
My trip got off to a great start. I tried to convince Matthew in the car on the way to the airport, that I’d be OK without him.
“Mom,” he said, “You won’t have any fun without us. You’ll miss us too much.” I decided NOT to tell him that I’d have fun BECAUSE it was a bit of a get-away from the offspring. I promised him that, while yes, it would be dreary on my own; I’d do my best to have a semi-OK time.
My direct flight arrived not only on-time but early to O’Hare. My cousin Anne picked me up and took us to her home where I stayed for Thursday and Friday night. I got to meet her littlest Grace (14 months)…[OK, now my laptop friend is reading OUTLOUD. I don’t like her anymore. I don’t want to share my table anymore.] I also saw her husband Mark (obviously) and their four-year-old Jack who for some of Friday referred to me as ‘Company.’ “Look at this, Company…let me show you this, Company.” Then when Anne reminded him this is “Cousin Jenny;” I’m pretty sure that I answered to just “Cousin” for a while.
Friday, Anne was kind enough to have lunch for me, her parents (my aunt Jackie and uncle Paul) and our uncle Kevin. And then on Friday night, we walked to a Mexican restaurant for dinner with my other cousin David. Good family reunion times!
Saturday morning, Anne and I headed into downtown. We wandered up to Millennium Park and saw “The Bean” as well as a water fountain-pond-dealy that shows images of people taken from photos. Hard to explain but cool. Then, Anne and I went on a 90 minute boat tour along the Chicago River and out onto Lake Michigan. I got some very excellent touristy photos taken and learned some fascinating historical facts. I love me a good boat tour! That’s how I saw much of Europe. Boat tours rule.
After our boat tour, we’d been given very specific instructions from my parents to experience the beauty of Chicago deep-dish pizza at Pizzeria Uno or Due. We opted for Uno, though later my dad said, he would’ve suggested Due. (Guess those instructions weren’t quite as specific as they could’ve been)! We shared a “Spinoccoli” pizza – spinach and broccoli with just the right amount of pizza sauce, cheese and deep-dishy goodness. Post-lunch, Anne deposited me at Union Station where I caught the train to meet up with my good friend Katherine at her parents’ house in Deerfield.
It was so great seeing my adorable little pregnant Army wife friend! She looks wonderful, and now we just need to all pray that Dan’s expected arrival from Iraq in early August is in time for the expected arrival of their baby in mid-August! Katherine and I drove, following her parents, to their place in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. Holy Majoly! There are some swanky digs along that lake!
On Sunday morning (my 29th Birthday!), after church in town, Katherine’s parentals took us out on their new motor boat. It was a gorgeous day! Katherine and I later went for a run along the lake shore and got a closer look at some of the mega-mansions. After my shower, I sat on the deck in a rocking chair, drinking wine and reading my book. That is birthday perfection, my friends. We concluded our delightful weekend with dinner at a seafood restaurant in town and ice cream at a local chocolaterie.
This morning, Katherine and parents bid me farewell and I caught the train back to Chicago where Anne picked me up. We went to see yet another cousin – Mark, his wife Kim and their 6 week old baby Joshua! We walked through their ‘urban chic’ neighborhood to a cute, funky diner for lunch. We had a great visit! It’s been really fun getting to know these cousins who I heard about growing up but really hadn’t spent any time with. Now, I just hope that it won’t be another 20 years before we all get together!
So, alas, that’s a brief summary of Birthday ’09. All in all, a perfectly great combo of sight-seeing, spending time with a wonderful friend, reuniting with awesome family and having some serious relaxation. Oh, and possibly the coolest most magical discovery of all: at O’Hare Airport and Union train Station, the toilets are equipped with automatic toilet seat rotating covers. So, when you go, you’ve got yourself a clean butt seat to utilize. I think it’s genius, fascinating, and I admit I spent some time waving my hand in front of the sensor just to see the cover rotate!
Now, back to my boys!!!
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Wowie. This was one heck of a weekend. One of a kind. Unlike any other. Unforgettable and ridiculously amazing! Yesterday, Mike and I got up at 6am. (The boys were with my parents). We picked up our friends Greg and Sara from Engaged Encounter and went to Pioneer Square. At 8am, we met up with the director and videographer for our video shoot. We filmed a ‘movie’ to promote Seattle and the National Convention that we are hosting here (Mike and I are the co-chairs) in October 2010. The video will be played at the district Conventions this summer; it will be on our website and on YouTube. Finally!! My big break!!...I mean OUR big break, of course. We spent 16 hours, I repeat SIXTEEN HOURS shooting for this five minute video (yes, 16 hours of filming = 5 minutes of video!). So, we filmed from 8am-12am and didn’t get home until 2am. Um, can you say ‘tired’?! Yet, ridiculously fun.
The first scene is following Greg and Sara – playing an oober-cheesy, in-love married EE team couple (not too hard since that’s what they are…except for maybe the over-the-top cheesiness) as they sight-see in Seattle. We could not – COULD NOT – have asked for a better day. It was 70 degrees and sunny and gorgeous. Seattle has never looked better. It was like ‘Extreme Makeover – Seattle Edition.’ We spent eight hours doing all of the main touristy things in Seattle. It was awesome. And our video crew and producer were so great and fun to work with.
The next scene…well, you’ll have to wait for the video to find out what happens but Mike and I play a Super Hero couple. I will at least give you a sneak peak photo though. I can’t wait to get to see the final video!
The first scene is following Greg and Sara – playing an oober-cheesy, in-love married EE team couple (not too hard since that’s what they are…except for maybe the over-the-top cheesiness) as they sight-see in Seattle. We could not – COULD NOT – have asked for a better day. It was 70 degrees and sunny and gorgeous. Seattle has never looked better. It was like ‘Extreme Makeover – Seattle Edition.’ We spent eight hours doing all of the main touristy things in Seattle. It was awesome. And our video crew and producer were so great and fun to work with.
The next scene…well, you’ll have to wait for the video to find out what happens but Mike and I play a Super Hero couple. I will at least give you a sneak peak photo though. I can’t wait to get to see the final video!
Thursday, May 14, 2009
In precisely one week I will be gracing the Windy City with my presence. I am SO excited – perhaps a little too excited – for my long weekend away! I’ll be flying to Chicago on the 21st and not stepping foot in the Evergreen State until the late eve of the 25th (the day after my birthday for those of you not in-the-know). The purpose of this trip is multi-faceted:
1.) I’ve not been in the Chicago area since I was…I believe 3 or 4. I don’t remember a thing about it and am super excited to see the city.
2.) I have family to stay with and visit! My cousin Anne, her husband and two offspring will open their home to me for two nights where I will do nothing but be the perfect house-guest. J I aim to please. I need to study up on what all this entails. I’ll get to see two uncles and my aunt for lunch as well as my other cousin, his wife and their newborn babe.
3.) I will also spend two nights with my dear friend Katherine and her parents. Katherine and I met when we were both starting our first year teaching at St. John’s in Seattle. (It wasn’t her first year of teaching, just first year at St. J’s). Katherine’s husband Dan is in the Special Forces, and right after we met, 9-11 took place, Dan was shipped off to a secret location, Mike and I were newlyweds and he was going through Chemo, I was a brand new teacher...basically, my world was strewn asunder in a pile of emotional distress. Katherine and I clicked right away. And perhaps it helps that our birthdays our two days apart! We became birthday buddies and for the last five years, since they moved away, she’s flown out for our bdays both times that Dan’s been deployed. He is currently serving his second deployment in Iraq, AND Katherine is pregnant with their first! So, I thought it genius to suggest we meet up in Chicago for our bday weekend!
When Katherine inquired what I’d like to do whilst in town, I immediately responded with: “I’d like to go out drinking and dancing!!” Just kidding! One – a pregnant mama-to-be and the other a mama of two, I won’t make my hostesses entertain…I’d be happy sitting in box somewhere reading! I’ll be on vacation! All alone! (Again, is it wrong to be so happy about having a mommy-break?! Eh. I’ll fight the guilt.) Besides, I’ll get to fly! And while I’m not a super huge fan of flying, I AM a very big fan of airports. They are one of my favorite places in the whole world to people-watch. I can’t wait!
1.) I’ve not been in the Chicago area since I was…I believe 3 or 4. I don’t remember a thing about it and am super excited to see the city.
2.) I have family to stay with and visit! My cousin Anne, her husband and two offspring will open their home to me for two nights where I will do nothing but be the perfect house-guest. J I aim to please. I need to study up on what all this entails. I’ll get to see two uncles and my aunt for lunch as well as my other cousin, his wife and their newborn babe.
3.) I will also spend two nights with my dear friend Katherine and her parents. Katherine and I met when we were both starting our first year teaching at St. John’s in Seattle. (It wasn’t her first year of teaching, just first year at St. J’s). Katherine’s husband Dan is in the Special Forces, and right after we met, 9-11 took place, Dan was shipped off to a secret location, Mike and I were newlyweds and he was going through Chemo, I was a brand new teacher...basically, my world was strewn asunder in a pile of emotional distress. Katherine and I clicked right away. And perhaps it helps that our birthdays our two days apart! We became birthday buddies and for the last five years, since they moved away, she’s flown out for our bdays both times that Dan’s been deployed. He is currently serving his second deployment in Iraq, AND Katherine is pregnant with their first! So, I thought it genius to suggest we meet up in Chicago for our bday weekend!
When Katherine inquired what I’d like to do whilst in town, I immediately responded with: “I’d like to go out drinking and dancing!!” Just kidding! One – a pregnant mama-to-be and the other a mama of two, I won’t make my hostesses entertain…I’d be happy sitting in box somewhere reading! I’ll be on vacation! All alone! (Again, is it wrong to be so happy about having a mommy-break?! Eh. I’ll fight the guilt.) Besides, I’ll get to fly! And while I’m not a super huge fan of flying, I AM a very big fan of airports. They are one of my favorite places in the whole world to people-watch. I can’t wait!
Monday, May 11, 2009
My Mother’s Day card from Matthew – dictated to his teacher – read, “I love you. I want you to play Legos every day with me. And I want you to eat chocolate! Love, MTTHEW.” Matthew had written his name but skipped the A to “save room.” When I thanked him for the card, I just casually mentioned the missing letter A. He said, “Oh, no, Mom, that wasn’t me. Mrs. Morris forgot the A. She doesn’t know how to spell Matthew.” Uh.huh. There sure is a big difference in the handwriting between the note part and the name part!
We had a good day yesterday. The highlight was going to the Storybook Theater production of ‘Hansel and Gretel.’ They do a phenomenal job there of making it age appropriate for the kids but also VERY funny for the parents. My parentals and bro, Chris, also joined us for the festivities that were followed by dinner at the Olive Garden (when you’re there, you’re family!). We ‘beat the crowd,’ arrived early and only had to wait…a full hour! By the time we were seated at 5:30, the people behind us were in for an hour to an hour and a half long wait. During our wait time, we noticed that Zachary was acting a little odd – very quiet and reserved and not at all ‘himself’. Once we got to the table, Zach was saying that he had a tummy ache.
As you know, we are a pukey people and have a history of vomiting in restaurants. We haven’t yet christened the Olive Garden, so maybe it was time. We were all – somewhat – on the edge of our seats just praying that Zach would not, in fact, demonstrate puke-rotechnics on the table. It was a little tense. Who says we’re not adrenaline junkies? We like to live on the edge, man.
Thankfully, the breadsticks seemed to revive him a bit and all was well…until Matthew slouched down and said, “I don’t feel so well. I’ve got an icky tummy.” Seriously?!! Mike took him to the bathroom which proved fruitless. Meanwhile, the rest of us shoveled our food frantically. Mike – who can eat twice as much as me in half the time – was done with his meal, so he packed up the boys and headed home with them (I’d ride to our house with the ‘rents). With the departure of the puke-boys, I sat back, breathed a sigh of relief and finished my glass of wine.
When we got home, Mike greeted us at the door. I could tell by the look on his face that something pukey had gone done. The questions were: who? when? where? It was Matthew – who does tend to take after me and be the pukiest. Outside the restaurant, amidst the throngs of people waiting, clutching desperately to their little blinkers, hoping in vain that those little lights would blink and it would vibrate like crazy announcing that finally – at long last – their table was ready and their arduous wait was over, Matthew announced again, “I don’t feel good.” Mike said, he asked him, “Do you need to throw-up?” Matthew nodded.
Mike somehow managed to get them all around the corner and to the bushes – just beyond the sight of the waiting Mothers and Mother’s Day-out-to-eaters. Mike said he tried calling me, but really, what would I have done anyway? The puke was already in the bushes – a fine place for puke if you ask me. I’ve even puked in the bushes at Disneyland before! (Yes, see how this is a family business?!) So, while I sat in the restaurant slowly sipping my Merlot, Mike was sweating bullets the whole drive home praying that no one puked in the backseat. Not having to deal with that, was perhaps the best Mother’s Day present of all.
We had a good day yesterday. The highlight was going to the Storybook Theater production of ‘Hansel and Gretel.’ They do a phenomenal job there of making it age appropriate for the kids but also VERY funny for the parents. My parentals and bro, Chris, also joined us for the festivities that were followed by dinner at the Olive Garden (when you’re there, you’re family!). We ‘beat the crowd,’ arrived early and only had to wait…a full hour! By the time we were seated at 5:30, the people behind us were in for an hour to an hour and a half long wait. During our wait time, we noticed that Zachary was acting a little odd – very quiet and reserved and not at all ‘himself’. Once we got to the table, Zach was saying that he had a tummy ache.
As you know, we are a pukey people and have a history of vomiting in restaurants. We haven’t yet christened the Olive Garden, so maybe it was time. We were all – somewhat – on the edge of our seats just praying that Zach would not, in fact, demonstrate puke-rotechnics on the table. It was a little tense. Who says we’re not adrenaline junkies? We like to live on the edge, man.
Thankfully, the breadsticks seemed to revive him a bit and all was well…until Matthew slouched down and said, “I don’t feel so well. I’ve got an icky tummy.” Seriously?!! Mike took him to the bathroom which proved fruitless. Meanwhile, the rest of us shoveled our food frantically. Mike – who can eat twice as much as me in half the time – was done with his meal, so he packed up the boys and headed home with them (I’d ride to our house with the ‘rents). With the departure of the puke-boys, I sat back, breathed a sigh of relief and finished my glass of wine.
When we got home, Mike greeted us at the door. I could tell by the look on his face that something pukey had gone done. The questions were: who? when? where? It was Matthew – who does tend to take after me and be the pukiest. Outside the restaurant, amidst the throngs of people waiting, clutching desperately to their little blinkers, hoping in vain that those little lights would blink and it would vibrate like crazy announcing that finally – at long last – their table was ready and their arduous wait was over, Matthew announced again, “I don’t feel good.” Mike said, he asked him, “Do you need to throw-up?” Matthew nodded.
Mike somehow managed to get them all around the corner and to the bushes – just beyond the sight of the waiting Mothers and Mother’s Day-out-to-eaters. Mike said he tried calling me, but really, what would I have done anyway? The puke was already in the bushes – a fine place for puke if you ask me. I’ve even puked in the bushes at Disneyland before! (Yes, see how this is a family business?!) So, while I sat in the restaurant slowly sipping my Merlot, Mike was sweating bullets the whole drive home praying that no one puked in the backseat. Not having to deal with that, was perhaps the best Mother’s Day present of all.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
The next couple of weeks are so busy it makes my brain hurt just thinking about it. I just can’t bring myself to go into too many details ‘cuz it’s overwhelming, but I’ll attempt a brief list. In the next two weeks I will: attend five evening meetings, teach 14 classes and do music for one birthday party, I will register Matthew for Kindergarten, I will script and block and be in a promotional video as well as make the costumes for Mike & I, and I will be in constant communication with the videographer, and I will somehow stay on top of dishes and laundry and ‘normal’ life all while Mike’s schedule is thrown wackily into the air because he’s on a jury! The man, seriously, was born to be a juror. He reported for jury duty two years ago ON his birthday and was selected for the trial. And again, he received his summons for Federal Court jury selection a couple of weeks ago. He reported on Monday, and sure enough, to my utter glee, he was selected.
‘Your “glee,”’ you say? Yes, ‘tis true. I am so very fascinated by the whole jury duty process and have never gotten to participate. I’m sure my day will come, but until then I’ll just harass Mike with questions. The issue, of course, is that during the trial he’s not allowed to tell me ANYTHING about it. [OK, but let’s face it: even if he could tell me everything, he’s not the chattiest, most detailed guy]. This KILLS me. It’s like the presents just hanging out under the Christmas tree taunting me for weeks with their secret contents. I’m a huge fan of presents, and secrets and surprises as long as I am clueless of their existence. If I know that there’s a clandestine situation it eats at me and tortures me until I know every detail. This, my friends, is why Mike was MADE to be a juror. He is the superstar of secret-keeping and surprises, and he gets quite a bit of pleasure from the ability to torture me with his withheld knowledge.
I think if I ever got called for Jury Duty, I’d have to just sit there and say, “Look, peeps, the airport and Costco are two of my favorite places in the world for people-watching. And quite frankly, the whole jury-trial situation would be a mecca for studying interesting people and behavior. I’m DYING to do it, and I really want you to pick me, however, it’s only fair that I be totally honest. (I don’t have a choice, huh?) I’m REALLY bad at keeping secrets. It’s not that I blurt out details of gifts, but I definitely like to push the envelope with a bit of ‘I know what you’re getting, nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nahhhh’ business. I just can’t help it.”
I think I’d be let-go. Mike should try this next time, since he’s a serial-requested-juror. People are supposedly called randomly for jury duty? Random-shmandom.
So, while we’re on the topic of secrets, I’ll drop a teaser now. Also, in the next two weeks, in the middle of my hectic busy schedule, two of my friends will be taking me to do something that some would consider a little wild, crazy and rebellious. And I’m SO excited about it! (If you know what it is, shhhh, don’t tell. Do a better job of keeping it a surprise than I can!). I pray that my parents still speak to me. After all, I’m nearly 29 and this may be the first time that I knowingly do something they won’t be super pumped about. So, they should be able to let this one transgression go, right?! (And by the way, it’s totally legal). But if they disown me, will you adopt me? Thanks.
‘Your “glee,”’ you say? Yes, ‘tis true. I am so very fascinated by the whole jury duty process and have never gotten to participate. I’m sure my day will come, but until then I’ll just harass Mike with questions. The issue, of course, is that during the trial he’s not allowed to tell me ANYTHING about it. [OK, but let’s face it: even if he could tell me everything, he’s not the chattiest, most detailed guy]. This KILLS me. It’s like the presents just hanging out under the Christmas tree taunting me for weeks with their secret contents. I’m a huge fan of presents, and secrets and surprises as long as I am clueless of their existence. If I know that there’s a clandestine situation it eats at me and tortures me until I know every detail. This, my friends, is why Mike was MADE to be a juror. He is the superstar of secret-keeping and surprises, and he gets quite a bit of pleasure from the ability to torture me with his withheld knowledge.
I think if I ever got called for Jury Duty, I’d have to just sit there and say, “Look, peeps, the airport and Costco are two of my favorite places in the world for people-watching. And quite frankly, the whole jury-trial situation would be a mecca for studying interesting people and behavior. I’m DYING to do it, and I really want you to pick me, however, it’s only fair that I be totally honest. (I don’t have a choice, huh?) I’m REALLY bad at keeping secrets. It’s not that I blurt out details of gifts, but I definitely like to push the envelope with a bit of ‘I know what you’re getting, nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nahhhh’ business. I just can’t help it.”
I think I’d be let-go. Mike should try this next time, since he’s a serial-requested-juror. People are supposedly called randomly for jury duty? Random-shmandom.
So, while we’re on the topic of secrets, I’ll drop a teaser now. Also, in the next two weeks, in the middle of my hectic busy schedule, two of my friends will be taking me to do something that some would consider a little wild, crazy and rebellious. And I’m SO excited about it! (If you know what it is, shhhh, don’t tell. Do a better job of keeping it a surprise than I can!). I pray that my parents still speak to me. After all, I’m nearly 29 and this may be the first time that I knowingly do something they won’t be super pumped about. So, they should be able to let this one transgression go, right?! (And by the way, it’s totally legal). But if they disown me, will you adopt me? Thanks.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
April 28th! It’s April 28th! Do you know what that means? My sweet little teeny-tiny Zachary is THREE YEARS OLD TODAY! I can’t believe it. And in true Zachy-fasion, he came charging into the kitchen at 6:30 this morning – full speed ahead with a one track, cereal-obsessed mind. I picked him up and said, “Do you know what today is?” He calmly said, “Is it my birthday now?” “YES!” I yelled and started dancing around the kitchen singing ‘Happy Birthday’ only to have him clap his hand over my mouth, shake his head and say, “No, Mommy. No singing. Cereal. Can I please have cereal?” That’s my boy.Our boys have apparently been up to some clandestine business. Apparently they’re sneaking off somewhere and watching Disney Princess films. I mean, there are WORSE things for them to be doing or watching, but seriously. Seriously? Where are they learning this?
Last Friday, we went to a Hawaiian/Beach Party at church. I wore the sarong that Mike bought for me 7 years ago on our Honeymoon in Waikiki. The boys don’t see me dressed up that often. I wear skirts occasionally for church, but this sarong fanciness was just mystical and new. When Matthew saw me, he literally got down on one knee, took my hand in his, held it to his forehead and then kissed it. He called me, “Princess,” and then brought Zachary into the room to see me. He demonstrated his regal gentlemanly move to Zach and then coached his now-three-year-old brother on how to properly bow, kneel, take my hand, show respect and adoration and then kiss me. All while only referring to me as “Princess.” Our future daughter-in-laws better seriously appreciate the training that these boys have undergone. (But the question is WHERE have they learned this?! Oh well. Whatever. I’ll take it)!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
I just got back from my first “big” ride. And by “big” I mean – I got up at 6am, so that under the cloak of early morning most people would not be up to see me. And by “big” I also mean it was about a 4 ½ mile ride. For a run, people would think, “Oh, OK, that’s pretty good.” For a bike ride? “Puh-lease. That’s no ‘big’ ride.” But the early morning gave me solitude. It might take me a while to figure out how to smoothly change gears and get up and down hills in one piece. And it was nice staying on mostly quiet neighborhood streets without many cars.
Another thing that I’ll need to figure out is what to wear on an early morning bike ride. Yeah, yeah, fashion doesn’t matter for 6am exercise, but comfort does. I know what to wear for a 6am run! Um, apparently it’s not at all the same for a bike ride. I was FREEZING. I forgot to take into account the fact that on a bike, I’ll be going a lot faster than when I run, and I’d have this whole speedy-wind-blowing thing happen. I’m sad to report that I just don’t run fast enough to have cold speed-induced wind whipping around me constantly. (Shocking, I know).
I’m proud to say that I didn’t completely baby-step into this ride though. Yes, I did go early so few would see me, and yes, I did avoid streets and mostly stayed on sidewalks, but I DID take on some hills. The first big hill I did is a beast. It’s one of the hills that Andrea and I do ‘hill repeats’ on when we’re in the mood for torture on a run. I was so pumped up for this hill, totally pep-talking myself the whole…way…up…to about half-way where I came to a total stand-still ‘cuz I couldn’t figure out the gears. Do you go so super-fast-easy (I don’t know what kind of gear this is…uh, low?) that your legs are churning so quickly you’re like a hamster in a wheel? Or do you crank that gear on and rock it slow and steady, standing on those pedals to climb that bad boy of a hill? I think I got stuck somewhere in between, and I just came to a complete stop. I immediately had visions of my 11 year old bubblegum pink bubblegum helmet head-self walking my bike up yet another hill. I quickly checked the sidewalk for any signs of my Jack-in-the-Box/giant ping pong ball head shadow but didn’t see one. Oh right, the sun isn’t up yet for shadows. At the top of the hill, I stopped for a moment looking down at my bike and fiddling with the seat height. Really, there was no problem whatsoever with my bike or seat; I just wanted to make it look like there was a reason for my needing to WALK up the hill lest anyone see and wonder why I’m such a wuss.
And what goes up must come down. Now, this neighborhood south of us has some serious hills, and I didn’t choose just any hill to go down, I chose the hill of all hills, the mountain of all mountains. I chose Mount Olympus. No, really. The neighborhood is called Olympus and this is a HUGE, long, STEEP hill at the entrance into the neighborhood. It’s totally reasonable that this hill be called Mount Olympus. It makes sense. And I bet you anything people do call it that. So, Mount Olympus it is. It was, um, scary. But I went slowly. Oh my goodness, I went so. ridiculously. SLOW. No, spandex-clad, team rides for me…until I’m not terrified of going downhill.
The boys think my bike is beyond cool. They’re mesmerized by the whole thing. The fact that I even have a helmet totally rocks their world. Zach thought it was the funniest thing ever when we bonked helmet-heads together. Last night, when we got home from swim lessons, it was still light out and had stopped raining, so we decided to ride around on our street for a little bit. One of the neighbors drove by and looking at all of us – Matthew and I on bikes and Zachary on his tricycle – he said, “Woah, check out the neighborhood biker gang!” When I told Matthew that I was going to get up early this morning and go for a ride he said, “I’ll come too!” I had to let him down gently, after all, he is our ‘teenage boy’ when it comes to sleeping and getting up in the morning. It’s hard to turn down a kid with a jack-o-lantern smile like this. (But I did. Mean mommy. I did.)
Another thing that I’ll need to figure out is what to wear on an early morning bike ride. Yeah, yeah, fashion doesn’t matter for 6am exercise, but comfort does. I know what to wear for a 6am run! Um, apparently it’s not at all the same for a bike ride. I was FREEZING. I forgot to take into account the fact that on a bike, I’ll be going a lot faster than when I run, and I’d have this whole speedy-wind-blowing thing happen. I’m sad to report that I just don’t run fast enough to have cold speed-induced wind whipping around me constantly. (Shocking, I know).
I’m proud to say that I didn’t completely baby-step into this ride though. Yes, I did go early so few would see me, and yes, I did avoid streets and mostly stayed on sidewalks, but I DID take on some hills. The first big hill I did is a beast. It’s one of the hills that Andrea and I do ‘hill repeats’ on when we’re in the mood for torture on a run. I was so pumped up for this hill, totally pep-talking myself the whole…way…up…to about half-way where I came to a total stand-still ‘cuz I couldn’t figure out the gears. Do you go so super-fast-easy (I don’t know what kind of gear this is…uh, low?) that your legs are churning so quickly you’re like a hamster in a wheel? Or do you crank that gear on and rock it slow and steady, standing on those pedals to climb that bad boy of a hill? I think I got stuck somewhere in between, and I just came to a complete stop. I immediately had visions of my 11 year old bubblegum pink bubblegum helmet head-self walking my bike up yet another hill. I quickly checked the sidewalk for any signs of my Jack-in-the-Box/giant ping pong ball head shadow but didn’t see one. Oh right, the sun isn’t up yet for shadows. At the top of the hill, I stopped for a moment looking down at my bike and fiddling with the seat height. Really, there was no problem whatsoever with my bike or seat; I just wanted to make it look like there was a reason for my needing to WALK up the hill lest anyone see and wonder why I’m such a wuss.
And what goes up must come down. Now, this neighborhood south of us has some serious hills, and I didn’t choose just any hill to go down, I chose the hill of all hills, the mountain of all mountains. I chose Mount Olympus. No, really. The neighborhood is called Olympus and this is a HUGE, long, STEEP hill at the entrance into the neighborhood. It’s totally reasonable that this hill be called Mount Olympus. It makes sense. And I bet you anything people do call it that. So, Mount Olympus it is. It was, um, scary. But I went slowly. Oh my goodness, I went so. ridiculously. SLOW. No, spandex-clad, team rides for me…until I’m not terrified of going downhill.
The boys think my bike is beyond cool. They’re mesmerized by the whole thing. The fact that I even have a helmet totally rocks their world. Zach thought it was the funniest thing ever when we bonked helmet-heads together. Last night, when we got home from swim lessons, it was still light out and had stopped raining, so we decided to ride around on our street for a little bit. One of the neighbors drove by and looking at all of us – Matthew and I on bikes and Zachary on his tricycle – he said, “Woah, check out the neighborhood biker gang!” When I told Matthew that I was going to get up early this morning and go for a ride he said, “I’ll come too!” I had to let him down gently, after all, he is our ‘teenage boy’ when it comes to sleeping and getting up in the morning. It’s hard to turn down a kid with a jack-o-lantern smile like this. (But I did. Mean mommy. I did.)
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
April 21, 2009
Today I bought a bicycle. I am a bicycle owner. This is the first bike that I have owned in, mmmm, five years. The one that I sold at our garage sale five years ago, however, I hadn’t ridden in, mmmm, five years, and it was the bike that I’d had since I was 13ish. It was time – time for that one to go.
So, I’ve been doing the Spin (indoor cycle) class at the gym for a year and a half now, and I LOVE it. It is such fun, sweatastic torture; it kinda rocks my world. A lot. When I first told Mike that – because of my love for and skill in Spin – I wanted to get an ‘actual’ bike, he looked at me for a moment, thinking. Then he said, “You realize it’s not going to be the same as Spin – the bike actually moves. Outside.”
I rolled my eyes, not even gifting him with a response.
“You’ll have to go down hills and fast.” Ahhh, there he hit a nerve. I have a fear of down hills and fast – particularly when they happen at the same time. This was a serious issue for us when, very early on in our relationship, Mike tried to teach me how to rollerblade. We were in the Montlake Parking lot at the UW – this enormous expanse of parking lot that…was…too…steep…for…me. I’m telling you, you don’t realize how bumpy and lumpy parking lots are until you’re traversing the mountainous plains on a couple of pairs of wheels. Terrifying. (“Mountainous plains” – yes, I realize that’s an oxymoron). Needless-to-say, the rollerblading lessons were a test to our relationship. We survived, but I have never rollerbladed since.
Yes, I realize that I may have to go downhill quickly, but it’s a challenge I’m ready to face. That’s what the brakes are for anyway! The other challenge I may have to face is cars…scary. Cars are scary and fast. I think I’ll be more of a bike trails kind of a biker not a militant “Share the Road,” driving IN the car lane kind of cyclist.
I have ambitions of becoming one of those cyclists with the fancy spandex and alienesque bike helmets that ride in packs in the wee hours of weekend mornings. Except I won’t drive near cars…and I may sort of avoid going downhill. Up hill on the other hand. Bring it on!
I also have one other issue. I have extremely low bike helmet self-esteem. This issue can be traced back to my childhood as so many of our issues can. (My childhood was excellent, by the way). My first and only ever bike helmet was this perfectly round bubblegum pink bubblegum helmet head situation. My shadow looked like Jack from Jack in the Box commercials. PERFECTLY ROUND. I looked like a big pink ping pong ball on a body. My best friend from childhood, Rachel, still likes to mock my bubblegum pink bubblegum helmet head. Hey – she had to be seen with me, so I took us both down!
So, I bought a non-bubblegum pink bubblegum helmet head helmet yesterday. It’s sleek – silver and periwinkle but periwinkle in a very grown-up cyclist sort of a way. When I put it on, the boys (as if prompted), said, “Cool, Mom. That helmet is SO cool.” Hmmm. No matter how ‘cool’ it may be (and I have doubts that it is actually cool), I still feel like a chubby 11 year old in a bubblegum pink bubblegum helmet. Maybe the fancy spandex will help. Bright spandex? Making me feel cooler? Less dorky? That, I fear, is also an oxymoron.
Today, I bought a bicycle. A grown-up, grip shifting 21-speed, dark blue beauty of a bicycle. It doesn’t have slick little racing wheels or the fancy racing curved-down handlebars. Instead of being all hunched over, focused on the race, I can sit-up comfortably enjoying the view and the ride. I have ambitions of becoming a fancy spandexed-cool-helmet-racing cyclist, but for now I’m happy with the fact that I actually have a bike to ride and the immense desire to ride it!
Today I bought a bicycle. I am a bicycle owner. This is the first bike that I have owned in, mmmm, five years. The one that I sold at our garage sale five years ago, however, I hadn’t ridden in, mmmm, five years, and it was the bike that I’d had since I was 13ish. It was time – time for that one to go.
So, I’ve been doing the Spin (indoor cycle) class at the gym for a year and a half now, and I LOVE it. It is such fun, sweatastic torture; it kinda rocks my world. A lot. When I first told Mike that – because of my love for and skill in Spin – I wanted to get an ‘actual’ bike, he looked at me for a moment, thinking. Then he said, “You realize it’s not going to be the same as Spin – the bike actually moves. Outside.”
I rolled my eyes, not even gifting him with a response.
“You’ll have to go down hills and fast.” Ahhh, there he hit a nerve. I have a fear of down hills and fast – particularly when they happen at the same time. This was a serious issue for us when, very early on in our relationship, Mike tried to teach me how to rollerblade. We were in the Montlake Parking lot at the UW – this enormous expanse of parking lot that…was…too…steep…for…me. I’m telling you, you don’t realize how bumpy and lumpy parking lots are until you’re traversing the mountainous plains on a couple of pairs of wheels. Terrifying. (“Mountainous plains” – yes, I realize that’s an oxymoron). Needless-to-say, the rollerblading lessons were a test to our relationship. We survived, but I have never rollerbladed since.
Yes, I realize that I may have to go downhill quickly, but it’s a challenge I’m ready to face. That’s what the brakes are for anyway! The other challenge I may have to face is cars…scary. Cars are scary and fast. I think I’ll be more of a bike trails kind of a biker not a militant “Share the Road,” driving IN the car lane kind of cyclist.
I have ambitions of becoming one of those cyclists with the fancy spandex and alienesque bike helmets that ride in packs in the wee hours of weekend mornings. Except I won’t drive near cars…and I may sort of avoid going downhill. Up hill on the other hand. Bring it on!
I also have one other issue. I have extremely low bike helmet self-esteem. This issue can be traced back to my childhood as so many of our issues can. (My childhood was excellent, by the way). My first and only ever bike helmet was this perfectly round bubblegum pink bubblegum helmet head situation. My shadow looked like Jack from Jack in the Box commercials. PERFECTLY ROUND. I looked like a big pink ping pong ball on a body. My best friend from childhood, Rachel, still likes to mock my bubblegum pink bubblegum helmet head. Hey – she had to be seen with me, so I took us both down!
So, I bought a non-bubblegum pink bubblegum helmet head helmet yesterday. It’s sleek – silver and periwinkle but periwinkle in a very grown-up cyclist sort of a way. When I put it on, the boys (as if prompted), said, “Cool, Mom. That helmet is SO cool.” Hmmm. No matter how ‘cool’ it may be (and I have doubts that it is actually cool), I still feel like a chubby 11 year old in a bubblegum pink bubblegum helmet. Maybe the fancy spandex will help. Bright spandex? Making me feel cooler? Less dorky? That, I fear, is also an oxymoron.
Today, I bought a bicycle. A grown-up, grip shifting 21-speed, dark blue beauty of a bicycle. It doesn’t have slick little racing wheels or the fancy racing curved-down handlebars. Instead of being all hunched over, focused on the race, I can sit-up comfortably enjoying the view and the ride. I have ambitions of becoming a fancy spandexed-cool-helmet-racing cyclist, but for now I’m happy with the fact that I actually have a bike to ride and the immense desire to ride it!
Friday, April 17, 2009
Was it my blatant disrespect and flippancy? Did my irreverence and mockery of that nasty of nasties: vomit, earn me a just and appropriate punishment?! If so, I will never again treat the subject of vomiting with such an uncouth demeanor….except for this one last time; just right now; this once.
On Tuesday, I posted my last Blog entry regarding the pukey natures of our children. Little did I know that the same fate was about to be dealt unto moi. I felt absolutely, perfectly fine in the morning. I did my usual Tuesday routine – took Matthew to preschool and then Zachary and I went to the gym where I partook in the fun-torture of sweat-dripping spin class. After class, I got showered, retrieved my youngest from the gym kids’ club, my eldest from preschool and then we drove up to my friend Rebecca’s house for a play date.
Rebecca and I have established a marvelous trend with our play dates. We fix an easy, kid-friendly lunch for the boys (four of them, when we’re all together), then once they’re happily playing, we sit down to a feast of gourmet deliciousness…and occasionally a glass or two of wine. Now, my two “Going Out Girls” – Rebecca and Larissa, with whom I go out dancing approximately once a month – have a delightful time mocking what a “light weight” I am. As Larissa says it only takes a drink or two and Jenny is “HILARIOUS on the sauce.” So, I guess this is a good thing. It means: a.) I’m a cheap date, b.) I don’t ever drink much or really ‘over my limit’ as my limit is so low, and c.) I make for an excellent Designated Driver as I can’t have anything at all or I lose my DD role. Though I’m not often allowed to be DD as I’m “HILARIOUS on the sauce.”
Back to Tuesday afternoon, Rebecca and I were off to a grand start – a delicious lunch and a glass of wine. OK, a glass and a half. That’s it. We’d been visiting for a couple of hours, when suddenly I started to not feel well at all.
“What’s the deal? Why do I feel so awful?” I asked Rebecca.
“I don’t know,” she said, “you haven’t even had two full glasses…you should be able to handle that much.”
And then, it hit me. Oh man, I’m going to be sick. I believe that I somewhat calmly said, “I think I need to go throw up now.” I got myself to the bathroom and WAZAMEE. I won’t go into the gory details, but let’s just say it was gory. This was a rated R – no kids under 17 allowed in without parents – kind of a vomit. It was a horror movie. I immediately thought of Zach and how he so calmly handled his rainbow puke incident. Oye.
I reclined on the couch for a little bit and then feeling better decided I better get us home. We had about 20 minutes on 405 during which I practically had my head hanging out the window like a dog, just hoping the fresh air would make me feel better. Zach fell asleep and Matthew was sitting ever so quiet and peacefully in the back seat while I fought my own personal hell in the front. I managed to get us to our exit and was about 3 minutes from home when I had to pull off the road into a gravel turnaround and get sick again…into the plastic bag we use for garbage in the car. Matthew, during my…uh ‘episode’, said, “Mommy, the bag is leaking.” Just what you want to hear.
We made it home, and I called Mike saying, ‘back-up, I need back-up.’ I got the boys in the house, 101 Dalmatians turned on, wiped up the car a little bit, and then got sick again…and again…and again..and again. I don’t remember the last time that I was sick like that. And I don’t want to. I don’t ever want to remember it ever again. (Good thing I’m documenting this for all eternity).
So, what was it? Was it food poisoning? Stomach flu? With the exception of Zach’s one random rainbow vomitous occasion, no one else has gotten sick (thank goodness!). Punishment for making a mockery of vomit?
And speaking of mockery, yesterday, Mike had the audacity to mock my puking skills. Like – you have to be good at vomiting! He said, “Yeah, you’re a terrible puker. The boys handle it better than you. They just puke, get it done and move on. You spend all this extra energy freaking out and kicking your legs and practically convulsing.”
“Well, I don’t like throwing up!” I cried defensively. “I mean, what am I supposed to do? It’s puke! Why am I so bad at it?”
“Woah,” Mike said, “are you offended because you’re not a good puker?”
“I’m offended because YOU said I’m not a good puker. I might be an excellent puker, it’s just that you have a low opinion of my puking skills, and that’s just not nice.”
“Are you really actually SAD that you don’t have good puking skills?” He asked.
“Um, I don’t know. Why are we still even talking about this and analyzing my puking skills?”
By the way, for the record, I’m an AMAZING puker. (OK, who am I kidding? I’m the worst puker I know. But I have many of other good and valuable qualities to make up for my lack of puking skills). I told my parents today how poorly Mike thinks of my puketasticness, and my dad said, without skipping a bit, “Yeah, you’ve always been bad at it.”
Fine!
On Tuesday, I posted my last Blog entry regarding the pukey natures of our children. Little did I know that the same fate was about to be dealt unto moi. I felt absolutely, perfectly fine in the morning. I did my usual Tuesday routine – took Matthew to preschool and then Zachary and I went to the gym where I partook in the fun-torture of sweat-dripping spin class. After class, I got showered, retrieved my youngest from the gym kids’ club, my eldest from preschool and then we drove up to my friend Rebecca’s house for a play date.
Rebecca and I have established a marvelous trend with our play dates. We fix an easy, kid-friendly lunch for the boys (four of them, when we’re all together), then once they’re happily playing, we sit down to a feast of gourmet deliciousness…and occasionally a glass or two of wine. Now, my two “Going Out Girls” – Rebecca and Larissa, with whom I go out dancing approximately once a month – have a delightful time mocking what a “light weight” I am. As Larissa says it only takes a drink or two and Jenny is “HILARIOUS on the sauce.” So, I guess this is a good thing. It means: a.) I’m a cheap date, b.) I don’t ever drink much or really ‘over my limit’ as my limit is so low, and c.) I make for an excellent Designated Driver as I can’t have anything at all or I lose my DD role. Though I’m not often allowed to be DD as I’m “HILARIOUS on the sauce.”
Back to Tuesday afternoon, Rebecca and I were off to a grand start – a delicious lunch and a glass of wine. OK, a glass and a half. That’s it. We’d been visiting for a couple of hours, when suddenly I started to not feel well at all.
“What’s the deal? Why do I feel so awful?” I asked Rebecca.
“I don’t know,” she said, “you haven’t even had two full glasses…you should be able to handle that much.”
And then, it hit me. Oh man, I’m going to be sick. I believe that I somewhat calmly said, “I think I need to go throw up now.” I got myself to the bathroom and WAZAMEE. I won’t go into the gory details, but let’s just say it was gory. This was a rated R – no kids under 17 allowed in without parents – kind of a vomit. It was a horror movie. I immediately thought of Zach and how he so calmly handled his rainbow puke incident. Oye.
I reclined on the couch for a little bit and then feeling better decided I better get us home. We had about 20 minutes on 405 during which I practically had my head hanging out the window like a dog, just hoping the fresh air would make me feel better. Zach fell asleep and Matthew was sitting ever so quiet and peacefully in the back seat while I fought my own personal hell in the front. I managed to get us to our exit and was about 3 minutes from home when I had to pull off the road into a gravel turnaround and get sick again…into the plastic bag we use for garbage in the car. Matthew, during my…uh ‘episode’, said, “Mommy, the bag is leaking.” Just what you want to hear.
We made it home, and I called Mike saying, ‘back-up, I need back-up.’ I got the boys in the house, 101 Dalmatians turned on, wiped up the car a little bit, and then got sick again…and again…and again..and again. I don’t remember the last time that I was sick like that. And I don’t want to. I don’t ever want to remember it ever again. (Good thing I’m documenting this for all eternity).
So, what was it? Was it food poisoning? Stomach flu? With the exception of Zach’s one random rainbow vomitous occasion, no one else has gotten sick (thank goodness!). Punishment for making a mockery of vomit?
And speaking of mockery, yesterday, Mike had the audacity to mock my puking skills. Like – you have to be good at vomiting! He said, “Yeah, you’re a terrible puker. The boys handle it better than you. They just puke, get it done and move on. You spend all this extra energy freaking out and kicking your legs and practically convulsing.”
“Well, I don’t like throwing up!” I cried defensively. “I mean, what am I supposed to do? It’s puke! Why am I so bad at it?”
“Woah,” Mike said, “are you offended because you’re not a good puker?”
“I’m offended because YOU said I’m not a good puker. I might be an excellent puker, it’s just that you have a low opinion of my puking skills, and that’s just not nice.”
“Are you really actually SAD that you don’t have good puking skills?” He asked.
“Um, I don’t know. Why are we still even talking about this and analyzing my puking skills?”
By the way, for the record, I’m an AMAZING puker. (OK, who am I kidding? I’m the worst puker I know. But I have many of other good and valuable qualities to make up for my lack of puking skills). I told my parents today how poorly Mike thinks of my puketasticness, and my dad said, without skipping a bit, “Yeah, you’ve always been bad at it.”
Fine!
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Our kids were MADE to take road trips across our state…with one major exception, which I’ll get to later. But seriously, Eastern Washington is actually VERY exciting for two John Deere and farm obsessed little boys. We spent Easter weekend in Spokane with Mike’s family and had a great time…with one major exception…that I’ll get to. The boys were super thrilled to have three ‘sleepovers’ in a hotel with a pool and to see their Aunt Jamie, Uncle Dan and Uncle Harry and Aunt Dolores/Nana. (Matthew combined Uncle Harry and Nana at one point into ‘Uncle Nanny.’ He’s just following the trend I guess. That’s sorta like Brangelina.)
We spent time with the family, eating a lot of great food and trying to get the wiggles out of our kiddles at the hotel pool and the playground at church. On Easter Sunday, after discovering that the Easter Bunny does hop his butt into a Spokane hotel room, we had the hotel continental breakfast – a healthy affair of rainbow Fruit Loops, lime green yogurt some apple and a couple pieces of Easter candy. We went to church to fight the crowds at the 11am Mass. A couple of times during church, Zach said his tummy hurt. We didn’t think too much of it as he’d said the same thing a couple of times earlier in the weekend. And apparently, we are the type of parents who ignore their children’s pleas for help.
When Mass was over, we wanted to let the boys rip around a bit before going to Harry and Dolores’ for Easter dinner. Unfortunately, it was pouring rain, so the playground was not going to work. We decided to visit a McDonald’s in the area that had a great indoor play place. I sat Zach down on the bench to remove his shoes so he could join Matthew on the big rainbow climbing structure when…it happened…that exception that I discussed earlier…the reason why our boys aren’t necessarily the best travelers…they take after their parents. They are pukey. They are a very pukey little people.
Zach proceeded to vomit repeatedly – a cheery Happy Easter vivid and colorful confection of vomit that matched the McDonald’s play structure in brightness but represented all the hues from his rainbow breakfast. And of course, OF COURSE, I was concerned for the well-being of my little one though I did manage to quickly jump back and just hold him with arm extended. I saved my ‘Easter dress,’ however I did get a smattering of brilliant Easter vomit on the toe of my boot. (Good thing I wasn’t wearing open-toed shoes!)
This is why our kids are – yet aren’t – good travelers. The thing is we all tend to get car sick fairly easily, but the great thing about our kids is they handle puke like little puketastic champions. (Yes, they handle vomiting WAY better than I do.) Zach even mentioned nonchalantly later at Harry and Dolores, “I puked at McDonald’s.” Like – no big. Just another day in my life, guys. What up?
Meanwhile, back at McDonald’s during the spectacular moment, I stood there frozen not knowing what to do. Mike was in the main part of the restaurant so I was solo with the boys. Thankfully (but unfortunately for them), another family was eating nearby. (Mmm, bet they enjoyed the last part of their meal). The mom jumped up and said that she’d let someone know what had gone on. Mike arrived and stopped in his tracks. His look said something like, “Ahhh, snap!”
We stripped off Zach’s shoes and pants and jacket. He saved his new Easter shirt at least! We wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a mang—…no wait, that’s a different Christian holiday and a different baby all together. We wrapped him in my coat and sat him on the bench.
Within moments a young (maybe 16 year old) dude came in with his McD’s mop and traveling bucket ‘o soapy water. He was the coolest kid EVER. When I started to apologize for the mess, he cut me off and said, “I have a little brother…I’ve had this stuff all over me. And once, when I was little I ate my entire Easter basket of candy in an hour. I puked rainbow ALL NIGHT…oh, sorry, you’re eating, you probably didn’t need to hear that.” We assured him that we could definitely handle it and continued with our cinnamon roll as if we’d been discussing the weather.
After a bit, Zach had perked up substantially and asked to play on the big toy. “Hmmm,” we said, “the sign says socks are required; it doesn’t say anything about pants!” But we opted to keep our little puker contained with us on the bench.
The rest of our Easter trip was great…until…the LONG drive home. Apparently the return trip through Eastern Washington just isn’t quite as magical and exciting as on the way there. By the time we neared Ellensburg (a little over half-way to home), we heard the dreaded words – this time from Matthew: “I think I’m going to throw-up now.” But then he didn’t. We were worried when we stopped for lunch at Taco Bell.
“Let’s see,” Mike said, “we’ve vomited in a Jack in the Box [after a road trip with Matthew, once] and now a McDonalds…I guess we should give Taco Bell a chance.” Thankfully, Matthew’s upset tummy never did amount to anything though we did forego swim lessons yesterday afternoon. The thought of Matthew puking in the pool with all those kids in there…yeah, we just didn’t think we should go there.
Ahhh, just another vacation with the Martins!
We spent time with the family, eating a lot of great food and trying to get the wiggles out of our kiddles at the hotel pool and the playground at church. On Easter Sunday, after discovering that the Easter Bunny does hop his butt into a Spokane hotel room, we had the hotel continental breakfast – a healthy affair of rainbow Fruit Loops, lime green yogurt some apple and a couple pieces of Easter candy. We went to church to fight the crowds at the 11am Mass. A couple of times during church, Zach said his tummy hurt. We didn’t think too much of it as he’d said the same thing a couple of times earlier in the weekend. And apparently, we are the type of parents who ignore their children’s pleas for help.
When Mass was over, we wanted to let the boys rip around a bit before going to Harry and Dolores’ for Easter dinner. Unfortunately, it was pouring rain, so the playground was not going to work. We decided to visit a McDonald’s in the area that had a great indoor play place. I sat Zach down on the bench to remove his shoes so he could join Matthew on the big rainbow climbing structure when…it happened…that exception that I discussed earlier…the reason why our boys aren’t necessarily the best travelers…they take after their parents. They are pukey. They are a very pukey little people.
Zach proceeded to vomit repeatedly – a cheery Happy Easter vivid and colorful confection of vomit that matched the McDonald’s play structure in brightness but represented all the hues from his rainbow breakfast. And of course, OF COURSE, I was concerned for the well-being of my little one though I did manage to quickly jump back and just hold him with arm extended. I saved my ‘Easter dress,’ however I did get a smattering of brilliant Easter vomit on the toe of my boot. (Good thing I wasn’t wearing open-toed shoes!)
This is why our kids are – yet aren’t – good travelers. The thing is we all tend to get car sick fairly easily, but the great thing about our kids is they handle puke like little puketastic champions. (Yes, they handle vomiting WAY better than I do.) Zach even mentioned nonchalantly later at Harry and Dolores, “I puked at McDonald’s.” Like – no big. Just another day in my life, guys. What up?
Meanwhile, back at McDonald’s during the spectacular moment, I stood there frozen not knowing what to do. Mike was in the main part of the restaurant so I was solo with the boys. Thankfully (but unfortunately for them), another family was eating nearby. (Mmm, bet they enjoyed the last part of their meal). The mom jumped up and said that she’d let someone know what had gone on. Mike arrived and stopped in his tracks. His look said something like, “Ahhh, snap!”
We stripped off Zach’s shoes and pants and jacket. He saved his new Easter shirt at least! We wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a mang—…no wait, that’s a different Christian holiday and a different baby all together. We wrapped him in my coat and sat him on the bench.
Within moments a young (maybe 16 year old) dude came in with his McD’s mop and traveling bucket ‘o soapy water. He was the coolest kid EVER. When I started to apologize for the mess, he cut me off and said, “I have a little brother…I’ve had this stuff all over me. And once, when I was little I ate my entire Easter basket of candy in an hour. I puked rainbow ALL NIGHT…oh, sorry, you’re eating, you probably didn’t need to hear that.” We assured him that we could definitely handle it and continued with our cinnamon roll as if we’d been discussing the weather.
After a bit, Zach had perked up substantially and asked to play on the big toy. “Hmmm,” we said, “the sign says socks are required; it doesn’t say anything about pants!” But we opted to keep our little puker contained with us on the bench.
The rest of our Easter trip was great…until…the LONG drive home. Apparently the return trip through Eastern Washington just isn’t quite as magical and exciting as on the way there. By the time we neared Ellensburg (a little over half-way to home), we heard the dreaded words – this time from Matthew: “I think I’m going to throw-up now.” But then he didn’t. We were worried when we stopped for lunch at Taco Bell.
“Let’s see,” Mike said, “we’ve vomited in a Jack in the Box [after a road trip with Matthew, once] and now a McDonalds…I guess we should give Taco Bell a chance.” Thankfully, Matthew’s upset tummy never did amount to anything though we did forego swim lessons yesterday afternoon. The thought of Matthew puking in the pool with all those kids in there…yeah, we just didn’t think we should go there.
Ahhh, just another vacation with the Martins!
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Ahh, children. Last night during dinner Zachary said something that just cracked me up. I was having a glass of wine (this is not breaking news), and he looked over at me and said, “Mom, stop with the wine.” What? Does he think I’m on the sauce too much or something?! As far as I know one glass of wine every day or every couple of days is not only healthy but even Dr. Oz approved! Stop with the wine! Ha!
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
The entire Seattle area has been sprinkled with magic dust. When the sun FINALLY makes its lazy appearance here, the whole world (of Seattle) changes. People are happier, friendlier. Maybe they don’t need to be quite so jacked up on caffeine. The sun energizes them in a way that mocks a coffee-induced stupor during a rainstorm or gray constipated sky. We don’t need to be quite so wired and high-strung. We’re all just a little more laidback and a lot happier.
Funny to think that only five days ago we had snow!! This wacky weather. OK, I will move on, I don’t actually plan on blogging about the weather.
This weekend, with the added blessing of sunny warm magic, was fantastic. My brother Timothy and sister-in-law Rebecca came up to celebrate an early Easter. We spent Saturday at the parental units’ place. There was Lego-play, delicious food, a trip to the art museum (for a select few of us), Easter egg-dying, wine-drinking, more delicious food-eating…and more Lego-play. Matthew spent the night and got some extra bonding time with his uncle/godfather. He was in heaven.
Sunday morning, I actually got my butt out of bed at 7 and went for a 6 mile run – solo. This is big. I’ve been feeling pretty blah about my running lately – not getting to train for the half marathon like I wanted to, and now even Andrea (my 3 mornings a week running partner) is cutting back on our together runs so that SHE can train harder. (Look, the girl’s legs are twice as long as mine. She’s definitely faster than me, so even on a good day I hold her back. Oh, and I have this little habit of talking the entire time we run which slows us up even more. It definitely makes sense that she do most of her training runs without me). So, I needed to prove to myself that I still have it in me to do this on my own. I CAN self-motivate. I needed to find that runner within who ran a 13 mile training run (without music or headphones or anything) on a dusty TRACK (around and around and around…) on a 75 degree sunny afternoon. I needed to find the girl that talked and smiled through 26.2 miles of pure hell and torture. Anyway. Found her! (How are ya? I’ve missed you. Welcome back.)
After my run we went to church for Palm Sunday. Matthew was still with my fam, so we only had Zachary to take care of, and then he got to play in the nursery during Mass. Sheesh! Who knew that having only one offspring was so easy?!! We’d definitely forgotten. Post-Church, we grabbed a quick bite to eat and then headed outside for some sun and much-needed yard work. Dad, mom and Tim (Chris was at home sick), brought Matthew home around that time. Now, Matthew has already had two visits from the Tooth Fairy – his two bottom guys. I was a little disappointed, however, that by the time those teeth came out, the permanent ones were already securely in place. No big gappy grin for him. We had dinner with friends on Sunday evening – friends who have THREE boys; ages 5 ½, 4 ½, and 2. I will admit that I was a bit jealous when I saw 5 ½ year old Ben’s big ‘all I want for Christmas is my two front teeth’ smile.
Much to my glee, we discovered last week, that Matthew’s top two teeth were quite loose and wiggly – particularly the left one. There were many jokes made on Saturday, particularly including my dad and brother Tim, that they would be happy to hold him down and get the pliers to get it out. This, of course, brought the anticipated response of squeals from Matthew. “Noooo!” he would protest with his hand-clamped tightly over his tightly closed mouth.
Yesterday, we spent most of the gorgeous day at the Zoo. Matthew was highly distracted throughout our visit by his Snaggle Tooth. That little thing was literally hanging on by just a thread. I told him in the morning (as he turned it nearly 380 degrees and had it sticking horizontally right out of his mouth), that I didn’t think that tooth would be accompanying us to the Zoo. But, it did. And Matthew spent the entire time, with his grubby little Zoo-dirtied fingers in his mouth wiggling it and moving it all around.
When we got home, the boys played in the backyard while I cleaned off the deck preparing for our first BBQed dinner of the season. All of a sudden, Matthew yelled, “My tooth!” With his crustified and dirt-stained hand he carried that little treasure like it was the Olympic Torch. We put it on a little plastic plate for safe-keeping. The thing was so loose that, in the end, he didn’t even have to pull it. It just all of a sudden fell – it gave up the weary job of clingy by one tiny thread; it let go and landed peacefully on his tongue. And I took, perhaps my favorite picture of Matthew to date. Now, I’m on him to get that other top one out so he can SERIOSULY ROCK the jack-o-lantern look.
Funny to think that only five days ago we had snow!! This wacky weather. OK, I will move on, I don’t actually plan on blogging about the weather.
This weekend, with the added blessing of sunny warm magic, was fantastic. My brother Timothy and sister-in-law Rebecca came up to celebrate an early Easter. We spent Saturday at the parental units’ place. There was Lego-play, delicious food, a trip to the art museum (for a select few of us), Easter egg-dying, wine-drinking, more delicious food-eating…and more Lego-play. Matthew spent the night and got some extra bonding time with his uncle/godfather. He was in heaven.
Sunday morning, I actually got my butt out of bed at 7 and went for a 6 mile run – solo. This is big. I’ve been feeling pretty blah about my running lately – not getting to train for the half marathon like I wanted to, and now even Andrea (my 3 mornings a week running partner) is cutting back on our together runs so that SHE can train harder. (Look, the girl’s legs are twice as long as mine. She’s definitely faster than me, so even on a good day I hold her back. Oh, and I have this little habit of talking the entire time we run which slows us up even more. It definitely makes sense that she do most of her training runs without me). So, I needed to prove to myself that I still have it in me to do this on my own. I CAN self-motivate. I needed to find that runner within who ran a 13 mile training run (without music or headphones or anything) on a dusty TRACK (around and around and around…) on a 75 degree sunny afternoon. I needed to find the girl that talked and smiled through 26.2 miles of pure hell and torture. Anyway. Found her! (How are ya? I’ve missed you. Welcome back.)
After my run we went to church for Palm Sunday. Matthew was still with my fam, so we only had Zachary to take care of, and then he got to play in the nursery during Mass. Sheesh! Who knew that having only one offspring was so easy?!! We’d definitely forgotten. Post-Church, we grabbed a quick bite to eat and then headed outside for some sun and much-needed yard work. Dad, mom and Tim (Chris was at home sick), brought Matthew home around that time. Now, Matthew has already had two visits from the Tooth Fairy – his two bottom guys. I was a little disappointed, however, that by the time those teeth came out, the permanent ones were already securely in place. No big gappy grin for him. We had dinner with friends on Sunday evening – friends who have THREE boys; ages 5 ½, 4 ½, and 2. I will admit that I was a bit jealous when I saw 5 ½ year old Ben’s big ‘all I want for Christmas is my two front teeth’ smile.
Much to my glee, we discovered last week, that Matthew’s top two teeth were quite loose and wiggly – particularly the left one. There were many jokes made on Saturday, particularly including my dad and brother Tim, that they would be happy to hold him down and get the pliers to get it out. This, of course, brought the anticipated response of squeals from Matthew. “Noooo!” he would protest with his hand-clamped tightly over his tightly closed mouth.
Yesterday, we spent most of the gorgeous day at the Zoo. Matthew was highly distracted throughout our visit by his Snaggle Tooth. That little thing was literally hanging on by just a thread. I told him in the morning (as he turned it nearly 380 degrees and had it sticking horizontally right out of his mouth), that I didn’t think that tooth would be accompanying us to the Zoo. But, it did. And Matthew spent the entire time, with his grubby little Zoo-dirtied fingers in his mouth wiggling it and moving it all around.
When we got home, the boys played in the backyard while I cleaned off the deck preparing for our first BBQed dinner of the season. All of a sudden, Matthew yelled, “My tooth!” With his crustified and dirt-stained hand he carried that little treasure like it was the Olympic Torch. We put it on a little plastic plate for safe-keeping. The thing was so loose that, in the end, he didn’t even have to pull it. It just all of a sudden fell – it gave up the weary job of clingy by one tiny thread; it let go and landed peacefully on his tongue. And I took, perhaps my favorite picture of Matthew to date. Now, I’m on him to get that other top one out so he can SERIOSULY ROCK the jack-o-lantern look.
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
And in continuing with my three-years-ago reflection, here’s what was going down:
Saturday, April 01, 2006 8:55PM
Today is my Dad's birthday. Yes, April Fool's. No, I don't mean that as a joke, I mean that it's true his birthday is April Fool's Day. Yesterday I asked Matthew if he knew who had a birthday today, and he said, "Happy Birthday, Zach?" We all emphatically said, "No! No! We hope not!"
Well, turns out Zach did want to kick off April Fool's Day with a bang. I woke up to some of the worst contractions I've had since I got here. Now, as I've said, all of my nurses here have been wonderful, and I still stand by that. My nurse last night, however, while still VERY nice, sort of made me nervous. She's an older gal and quite a large gal. When she came into my room she was sweating and panting and holding on to any stationary object for support as she walked. She was so shakey when taking my temperature that I thought I might have permanent hearing loss from how hard she pushed the thermometer (all the while a-quivering like mad!) into my ear. So, when I woke up with fairly bad, regular contractions at 6am I was disappointed (but maybe not all that surprised) that she hadn't been monitoring them well enough from the nurse's station to come in, wake me up, and give me something to slow them down. I paged her to the room (twice...as she didn't respond the first time...or maybe it just took her that long to walk down the hall), and after watching the contractions for an additional 10 minutes, she agreed that I needed the Terbutaline shot. The woman was a-shaking so badly I thought she would miss my arm and stab me in the face with the needle. Mind you, my arm is a fairly large target now-a-days as the regiment of 'bulk-up-baby-Zachary' (and therefore moi) is underway and has proven to be quite successful thus far. (Both of my dimples have started to fill in with extra chub -- going, going, gone). So, once again, I had an interesting start to my Saturday. The day ended well with cupcakes and ice cream (more of that important bulking up) to celebrate Dad's birthday. Matthew was convinced that -- just as all gifts -- Dad's present had a "truck inside...funjunjun truck" (that's the phoenetic spelling for how Matthew says fire engine). Needless to say, he was a little disappointed with the computer scanner.
Saturday, April 01, 2006 8:55PM
Today is my Dad's birthday. Yes, April Fool's. No, I don't mean that as a joke, I mean that it's true his birthday is April Fool's Day. Yesterday I asked Matthew if he knew who had a birthday today, and he said, "Happy Birthday, Zach?" We all emphatically said, "No! No! We hope not!"
Well, turns out Zach did want to kick off April Fool's Day with a bang. I woke up to some of the worst contractions I've had since I got here. Now, as I've said, all of my nurses here have been wonderful, and I still stand by that. My nurse last night, however, while still VERY nice, sort of made me nervous. She's an older gal and quite a large gal. When she came into my room she was sweating and panting and holding on to any stationary object for support as she walked. She was so shakey when taking my temperature that I thought I might have permanent hearing loss from how hard she pushed the thermometer (all the while a-quivering like mad!) into my ear. So, when I woke up with fairly bad, regular contractions at 6am I was disappointed (but maybe not all that surprised) that she hadn't been monitoring them well enough from the nurse's station to come in, wake me up, and give me something to slow them down. I paged her to the room (twice...as she didn't respond the first time...or maybe it just took her that long to walk down the hall), and after watching the contractions for an additional 10 minutes, she agreed that I needed the Terbutaline shot. The woman was a-shaking so badly I thought she would miss my arm and stab me in the face with the needle. Mind you, my arm is a fairly large target now-a-days as the regiment of 'bulk-up-baby-Zachary' (and therefore moi) is underway and has proven to be quite successful thus far. (Both of my dimples have started to fill in with extra chub -- going, going, gone). So, once again, I had an interesting start to my Saturday. The day ended well with cupcakes and ice cream (more of that important bulking up) to celebrate Dad's birthday. Matthew was convinced that -- just as all gifts -- Dad's present had a "truck inside...funjunjun truck" (that's the phoenetic spelling for how Matthew says fire engine). Needless to say, he was a little disappointed with the computer scanner.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Around this time of year I can’t help but reflect back on what I was doing exactly three years ago right now. Zachary will turn three in precisely four weeks. Three, I repeat, THREE! I remember three. I remember four better, but I definitely remember three. So, three years ago I was a lazy bum. I was the biggest bum – just lying around in bed ALL DAY LONG. Lying in bed, all day and all night, in the hospital for seven weeks to keep Zach cooking.
I thought it would be interesting to see what I had blogged about, and to my utter glee both today’s and tomorrow’s (of three years ago) entries are two of my favorites. I have a few memories that really stand out from that whole hospital experience, and it’s ironic that March 31st and April 1st include some of the most stand-out moments.
So, now for a look back:
March 31, 2006
4:51PM It's day 19 here in the hospital, but who's counting, right? Uh, me. Yesterday, Doctor Anton said, "Wow! It's gone really fast, hasn't it? It seems like you just got here." No, actually I beg to differ. It doesn't go really fast if you're the one lying in the bed staring at the clock slowly ticking by. It feels like I've been here for three months not almost three weeks. But hey! Three weeks is still a big accomplishment. I do realize that, and I promise that I don't stare at the clock...that often.
I have a new friend in my room! Vern the Fern is now hanging from the ceiling by the window. Thankfully, while he is a cheerful, friendly plant, I haven't started talking to him for company...not yet anyway.
Perhaps one of the best parts of this pregnancy has been meeting Dr. Kevin Case. He is the specialist that performed all of our high-tech, 3-D ultrasounds. Dr. Case is unlike any doctor that I have ever met -- and I have met quite a few and they've all been good. Dr. Case, however, is phenomenal. He has been giving mothers and fathers their first view of their children for many, many years, and yet he has not become at all desensitized to what he's looking at. At all of our appointments, Dr. Case thanked me for allowing him to share in those amazing first images of our son. He applauded our decision to pass up some of the prenatal testing done to determine the likelihood of disability in the baby (and some people do have terminations based on the often inaccurate results). He said something to the effect of, " Your decision tells me that you will love this baby unconditionally and I thoroughly agree with that choice."
I just recently wrote Dr. Case a note to thank him for being such a compassionate, caring doctor. He wrote a note back to me saying, "Good morning, Jenny. Thank you for your beautiful note. You are a kind and compassionate soul. Zachary is such a beautiful baby...You have enriched my life. With warmest regards, Kevin Case. I'll bet we get to late May!" Isn't that impressive? What an incredible doctor to go so far above and beyond the call of duty! With his note, Dr. Case included a couple of quotes.
Enjoy:
"She leaned closer to look at the baby lying on the blanket on the grass. They knew nothing about her, whether her mother was young or old, rich or poor. But Mrs. Blessing could see that this baby was beloved, and in the soft grass, with the breeze blowing the crippled limbs of the old apple trees, that seemed to be all that mattered." -- Anna Quindlen, 'Blessings'
"Where there is great love there are always miracles. One might almost say that an apparition is a human vision corrected by divine love. I do not see you as you really are, I see you through my affection for you. Miracles seem to me to rest not so much upon our faces or voices or healing power coming suddenly near to us from afar off, but upon our perceptions being made finer, so that for a moment our eyes can see and our ears can hear what is there about us always." -- Willa Cather, 'Death Comes For The Archbishop"
I thought it would be interesting to see what I had blogged about, and to my utter glee both today’s and tomorrow’s (of three years ago) entries are two of my favorites. I have a few memories that really stand out from that whole hospital experience, and it’s ironic that March 31st and April 1st include some of the most stand-out moments.
So, now for a look back:
March 31, 2006
4:51PM It's day 19 here in the hospital, but who's counting, right? Uh, me. Yesterday, Doctor Anton said, "Wow! It's gone really fast, hasn't it? It seems like you just got here." No, actually I beg to differ. It doesn't go really fast if you're the one lying in the bed staring at the clock slowly ticking by. It feels like I've been here for three months not almost three weeks. But hey! Three weeks is still a big accomplishment. I do realize that, and I promise that I don't stare at the clock...that often.
I have a new friend in my room! Vern the Fern is now hanging from the ceiling by the window. Thankfully, while he is a cheerful, friendly plant, I haven't started talking to him for company...not yet anyway.
Perhaps one of the best parts of this pregnancy has been meeting Dr. Kevin Case. He is the specialist that performed all of our high-tech, 3-D ultrasounds. Dr. Case is unlike any doctor that I have ever met -- and I have met quite a few and they've all been good. Dr. Case, however, is phenomenal. He has been giving mothers and fathers their first view of their children for many, many years, and yet he has not become at all desensitized to what he's looking at. At all of our appointments, Dr. Case thanked me for allowing him to share in those amazing first images of our son. He applauded our decision to pass up some of the prenatal testing done to determine the likelihood of disability in the baby (and some people do have terminations based on the often inaccurate results). He said something to the effect of, " Your decision tells me that you will love this baby unconditionally and I thoroughly agree with that choice."
I just recently wrote Dr. Case a note to thank him for being such a compassionate, caring doctor. He wrote a note back to me saying, "Good morning, Jenny. Thank you for your beautiful note. You are a kind and compassionate soul. Zachary is such a beautiful baby...You have enriched my life. With warmest regards, Kevin Case. I'll bet we get to late May!" Isn't that impressive? What an incredible doctor to go so far above and beyond the call of duty! With his note, Dr. Case included a couple of quotes.
Enjoy:
"She leaned closer to look at the baby lying on the blanket on the grass. They knew nothing about her, whether her mother was young or old, rich or poor. But Mrs. Blessing could see that this baby was beloved, and in the soft grass, with the breeze blowing the crippled limbs of the old apple trees, that seemed to be all that mattered." -- Anna Quindlen, 'Blessings'
"Where there is great love there are always miracles. One might almost say that an apparition is a human vision corrected by divine love. I do not see you as you really are, I see you through my affection for you. Miracles seem to me to rest not so much upon our faces or voices or healing power coming suddenly near to us from afar off, but upon our perceptions being made finer, so that for a moment our eyes can see and our ears can hear what is there about us always." -- Willa Cather, 'Death Comes For The Archbishop"
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
I had an awesome teaching day yesterday. I needed an awesome teaching day yesterday. Last week, I had one exceptionally challenging teaching-related day in which someone beat me up repeatedly with a “you suck” stick. It hurt. It hurt bad. Especially because I’ve done nothing wrong; this person just holds my mere existence against me. I shan’t go into detail, however if you want the full detailed version feel free to request a copy of my dissertation on the topic.
Anyway, yesterday was wonderful. I spent two full hours teaching a total of 120 2 ½ -5 year olds at the boys’ preschool. It’s funny that sometimes (and often) the kids who are the most challenging – the ones who are there not to learn from you but to teach YOU – are often the ones you end up liking the most. One of these kids is (I’ll change his name) Tommy. Tommy is five going on fifteen. Every single day he wears a fly fisherman’s vest (you know the kind full of zippered pockets and compartments); I have yet to find out if he keeps anything in these pockets. Tommy is the Alpha Dog. The leader of the pack. The head hauncho. The boss. Tommy is the Godfather. Every little boy in Tommy’s class wants to sit next to him, to be his best friend, they want to BE him. And Tommy plays it all so cool. They are just wee peons. They bore him, these pointless lowly mortals.
Unfortunately, from day one, Tommy decided that music class was beneath him. It was a waste of time. On the very first day, he sighed audibly and said, “This is so boring.” He’s five! Five year olds shouldn’t be bored with music and dancing, instruments, parachute-play and bubbles. Come on! Therefore, it has been an uphill battle with his entire class. If Tommy doesn’t think that music class is fun, then most of them are convinced it must be a pointless exercise. I was discussing Tommy with Matthew’s teacher (Matthew is not in the same class as Tommy, by the way). Mrs. Morris said that once she reprimanded Tommy for something and he said, “Woman! Why you gotta be so hard on me? Gah, you’re as bad as my mom.”
I’ve gradually been winning Tommy over – primarily because our last two themes were ones that interest 99.9% of all boys under the age of 8 – dinosaurs and transportation. This time we were singing about animals so I knew that I’d need to work some magic to get Tommy on my side. Once you’ve got Tommy in your corner, then you know you’re good to go. (But it would take some serious finagling to get Tommy pumped about the “Animal Pokey” – you know: “you put your piggy in, you put your piggy out, you put your piggy in and you shake it all about.” Each kid gets a picture of a different farm animal. You get the idea). I decided that kissing Tommy’s butt would be the way to go.
I took him aside before class started and schmoozed and oozed over him to no end. I raved about how well he’s been doing in class, and gosh, I could REALLY use his help. Would he be my special helper and sit next to me to help show the other kids (those silly guys just don’t get it sometimes!) how it’s all done? He looked at me, seriously contemplating this offer, and then said, “Well, I didn’t look at my notes on this.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing and remaining completely deadpan, I said, “Do you think you can wing it? You know, just follow my lead? It’s cool that you didn’t have a chance to study up. I could sure use your help.” He gave me a brief nod – a little mini-adult nod like yes, lunch next week would work out well, thank you; we’ll be in touch.
Magic. Having that boy by my side transformed that class of whiners into the most enthusiastic, farm animal music-loving group of mini-musician kidlets I’ve ever seen! At one point, after collecting a batch of instruments I sat down in a different part of the circle – actually directly opposite from Tommy. Before I could start the next song, he said, “Uh, Ms. Jenny, did you forget our agreement? You need to sit by me.” He pointed briskly at the Ms. Jenny-sized vacant spot by his side. I nodded and said, “Yeah, thanks, Tommy, I just wanted to watch you for this one, I’ll be back over there soon.” Charmed. He was pleased with that deal despite it not being our original ‘agreement’.
At the end of class, Tommy, hung back and said, “Thanks, Ms. Jenny. Music was fun today.” Dude. I love that kid.
Anyway, yesterday was wonderful. I spent two full hours teaching a total of 120 2 ½ -5 year olds at the boys’ preschool. It’s funny that sometimes (and often) the kids who are the most challenging – the ones who are there not to learn from you but to teach YOU – are often the ones you end up liking the most. One of these kids is (I’ll change his name) Tommy. Tommy is five going on fifteen. Every single day he wears a fly fisherman’s vest (you know the kind full of zippered pockets and compartments); I have yet to find out if he keeps anything in these pockets. Tommy is the Alpha Dog. The leader of the pack. The head hauncho. The boss. Tommy is the Godfather. Every little boy in Tommy’s class wants to sit next to him, to be his best friend, they want to BE him. And Tommy plays it all so cool. They are just wee peons. They bore him, these pointless lowly mortals.
Unfortunately, from day one, Tommy decided that music class was beneath him. It was a waste of time. On the very first day, he sighed audibly and said, “This is so boring.” He’s five! Five year olds shouldn’t be bored with music and dancing, instruments, parachute-play and bubbles. Come on! Therefore, it has been an uphill battle with his entire class. If Tommy doesn’t think that music class is fun, then most of them are convinced it must be a pointless exercise. I was discussing Tommy with Matthew’s teacher (Matthew is not in the same class as Tommy, by the way). Mrs. Morris said that once she reprimanded Tommy for something and he said, “Woman! Why you gotta be so hard on me? Gah, you’re as bad as my mom.”
I’ve gradually been winning Tommy over – primarily because our last two themes were ones that interest 99.9% of all boys under the age of 8 – dinosaurs and transportation. This time we were singing about animals so I knew that I’d need to work some magic to get Tommy on my side. Once you’ve got Tommy in your corner, then you know you’re good to go. (But it would take some serious finagling to get Tommy pumped about the “Animal Pokey” – you know: “you put your piggy in, you put your piggy out, you put your piggy in and you shake it all about.” Each kid gets a picture of a different farm animal. You get the idea). I decided that kissing Tommy’s butt would be the way to go.
I took him aside before class started and schmoozed and oozed over him to no end. I raved about how well he’s been doing in class, and gosh, I could REALLY use his help. Would he be my special helper and sit next to me to help show the other kids (those silly guys just don’t get it sometimes!) how it’s all done? He looked at me, seriously contemplating this offer, and then said, “Well, I didn’t look at my notes on this.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing and remaining completely deadpan, I said, “Do you think you can wing it? You know, just follow my lead? It’s cool that you didn’t have a chance to study up. I could sure use your help.” He gave me a brief nod – a little mini-adult nod like yes, lunch next week would work out well, thank you; we’ll be in touch.
Magic. Having that boy by my side transformed that class of whiners into the most enthusiastic, farm animal music-loving group of mini-musician kidlets I’ve ever seen! At one point, after collecting a batch of instruments I sat down in a different part of the circle – actually directly opposite from Tommy. Before I could start the next song, he said, “Uh, Ms. Jenny, did you forget our agreement? You need to sit by me.” He pointed briskly at the Ms. Jenny-sized vacant spot by his side. I nodded and said, “Yeah, thanks, Tommy, I just wanted to watch you for this one, I’ll be back over there soon.” Charmed. He was pleased with that deal despite it not being our original ‘agreement’.
At the end of class, Tommy, hung back and said, “Thanks, Ms. Jenny. Music was fun today.” Dude. I love that kid.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Matthew loved his “kid interview” so much he wanted another one. And Zach got his say in too. (The first 11 questions are just Matthew, then Zach got involved so I specified after that).
1. What will you be when you grow up? Police officer.
2. What will you do? Catch robbers and put them in jail.
3. Who will be in your family? The mom and my six kids. Woah! That’ll be a lot of bunk beds.
4. Who is your wife? Abby. She’ll be a worker.
5. Where do the babies come from? In the mommy’s tummy, one by one.
6. How do the babies get in the mommy’s tummy? By God.
7. What kind of house will you live in? A huge, huge house.
8. What kind of car will you drive? A bus.
9. Will you have any pets? Uh, six dogs.
10. Who will take care of the dogs? All my children.
11. What will your kids’ names be? Jack, Bear, Abby, Nave, Nikki, John
12. What will Zach (little brother) be when he grows up? Zach: “A fireman.” Matthew: (Ooh, he’ll have lots of training to do). Zach: “Take the bad guys to jail.” Matthew: Oh, you’ll be a fire fighter that puts bad guys in jail. That’ll be weird. Zach: “I’ll put the strangers in jail…I don’t know about bad trees.” Matthew: Bad trees. There’s no such thing! Zach: “Bad guys live in bad holes.”
13. Zach, who will be in your family? Joshua and Noah.
14. What does the Easter Bunny? Put eggs at the people’s house.
15. What does Jesus do? He’s God.
16. What does God look like? (Matthew): A big ball of gold.
17. What happens when you die? You stay dead. You play with God in Heaven.
18. What happens to your toys when you die? Uh, you don’t play with them anymore.
19. What do Mommy and Daddy do when you’re not here? Zach: Die. Matthew: When I’m not around you fix the lamps.
20. If you could change anything about Mom or Dad what would it be? Matthew: They’ll look all old.
1. What will you be when you grow up? Police officer.
2. What will you do? Catch robbers and put them in jail.
3. Who will be in your family? The mom and my six kids. Woah! That’ll be a lot of bunk beds.
4. Who is your wife? Abby. She’ll be a worker.
5. Where do the babies come from? In the mommy’s tummy, one by one.
6. How do the babies get in the mommy’s tummy? By God.
7. What kind of house will you live in? A huge, huge house.
8. What kind of car will you drive? A bus.
9. Will you have any pets? Uh, six dogs.
10. Who will take care of the dogs? All my children.
11. What will your kids’ names be? Jack, Bear, Abby, Nave, Nikki, John
12. What will Zach (little brother) be when he grows up? Zach: “A fireman.” Matthew: (Ooh, he’ll have lots of training to do). Zach: “Take the bad guys to jail.” Matthew: Oh, you’ll be a fire fighter that puts bad guys in jail. That’ll be weird. Zach: “I’ll put the strangers in jail…I don’t know about bad trees.” Matthew: Bad trees. There’s no such thing! Zach: “Bad guys live in bad holes.”
13. Zach, who will be in your family? Joshua and Noah.
14. What does the Easter Bunny? Put eggs at the people’s house.
15. What does Jesus do? He’s God.
16. What does God look like? (Matthew): A big ball of gold.
17. What happens when you die? You stay dead. You play with God in Heaven.
18. What happens to your toys when you die? Uh, you don’t play with them anymore.
19. What do Mommy and Daddy do when you’re not here? Zach: Die. Matthew: When I’m not around you fix the lamps.
20. If you could change anything about Mom or Dad what would it be? Matthew: They’ll look all old.
Friday, March 20, 2009
OK, time is scarce, so I'm just going to be lazy and paste in something I did on Facebook for those blog-readers but not Facebook-do-ers out there.
Ask your child(ren) to answer the questions and type their answers in.
Matthew -- age 5 1/2
1. What is something mom always says to you? Don't watch a movie if you're being naughty.
2. What makes mom happy? Loving her and being nice to her.
3. What makes mom sad? When she's angry.
4. What does your mom do to make you laugh? Tickle me.
5. What did your mom like as a child? She liked to do her homework.
6. How old is your mom? I don't know.
7. How tall is your mom? I think 5 minutes tall.
8. What is your mom's favorite thing to do? Play with her son.
9. What does your mom do when you're not around? She does gym stuff.
10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for? Doing yoga.
11. What is your mom really good at? Being nice to her kids.
12. What is your mom not very good at? Playing Legos.
13. What does your mom do for her job? Do the laundry.
14. What is your mom's favorite food? Salad.
15. What makes you proud of your mom? Making a picture for me.
16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be? I don't know.
17. What do you and your mom do together? Go to the park and play.
18. How are you and your mom the same? We don't look the same.
19. How are you and your mom different? 'Cuz my mom has black hair and I have brown hair.
20. How do you know your mom loves you? 'Cuz she's very nice and loving.
Ask your child(ren) to answer the questions and type their answers in.
Matthew -- age 5 1/2
1. What is something mom always says to you? Don't watch a movie if you're being naughty.
2. What makes mom happy? Loving her and being nice to her.
3. What makes mom sad? When she's angry.
4. What does your mom do to make you laugh? Tickle me.
5. What did your mom like as a child? She liked to do her homework.
6. How old is your mom? I don't know.
7. How tall is your mom? I think 5 minutes tall.
8. What is your mom's favorite thing to do? Play with her son.
9. What does your mom do when you're not around? She does gym stuff.
10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for? Doing yoga.
11. What is your mom really good at? Being nice to her kids.
12. What is your mom not very good at? Playing Legos.
13. What does your mom do for her job? Do the laundry.
14. What is your mom's favorite food? Salad.
15. What makes you proud of your mom? Making a picture for me.
16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be? I don't know.
17. What do you and your mom do together? Go to the park and play.
18. How are you and your mom the same? We don't look the same.
19. How are you and your mom different? 'Cuz my mom has black hair and I have brown hair.
20. How do you know your mom loves you? 'Cuz she's very nice and loving.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Top ‘o the mornin’ to ya. That’s right, it’s St. Patrick’s Day here (…and everywhere) in the “Emerald City.” However, it’s not so green this morning. I woke up to another blanket of white fluff covering every possible surface outside. AGAIN, we have snow. And, I’m sorry, I can’t help it, but my internal schoolgirl does a small squeal of glee every time she pulls back the curtain to discover a winter wonderland outside. Will school be cancelled? Will we have a snow day? Ooh! We should have cocoa and listen to Christmas music! Yeah, yeah, I know that we’re half-way through March and Spring should be here and this snow is craziness (thank you, Global Climate Change), but it still gets me a bit giddy. And I’ll admit I’m slightly let-down that Seattle – yes, even Seattle – is getting a little nonchalant about the white stuff. They’re no longer cancelling school for a dusting! We used to cancel for a few flakes. (I told Mike – who recently emerged from the bedroom – to look outside. He grunted and continued getting his cereal. OK, granted until about 8 in the morning, all he can do is grunt, but the snow didn’t phase him at all. And I just read this to him and he said, “I grunted.” Like I should be impressed that I at least got that reaction.)
My inner schoolgirl could use a snow boost right now. A monster has been unleashed, and I’m struggling with demons. (Hmm, last week it was Gremlin-Elves, this week it’s monsters and demons. What’s with that? I live in a fantasy world, it’s true; and I’m under attack). As you may have noticed there’s a new little feature – a fancy gadget – in the upper left corner of my Blog. Didn’t see it? See it now? That, my friends, is the new source of my torture. Sure, it looks innocent enough – just a subtle single row of numbers, but really this Blog ‘visitors counter’ is nothing but a blow to the self-esteem on display. OK, I am exaggerating, so before you all start clicking on my Blog multiple times a day (let’s call them “Pity Clicks”), allow me to explain.
Jessica, my fellow Blogger, “official” Blog follower of mine, music teacher, friend from the days of yesteryear (including Symphony Camp!), and newly reunited Facebook friend introduced me to this. She said, “I figured out how to put a blog tracker at the bottom (it will count how many people view my blog!) It's very fun. I gave instructions on my blog, so check it out! Then you can actually SEE how popular and awesome you and your blog is!”…um, or not. I’ve become obsessed with this little row of zeros. It’s like 7th grade all over again. How popular am I? What can I do to fit in more? And I don’t know if this is a good or bad thing, but every time I visit my Blog to see what number I’m at, MY visit is counted as a visitor. So, currently the counter reads 00000045, but people, quite a few of those are ME visiting MYSELF!
Sigh. At least my boys occasionally help boost my self-esteem (though they frequently do the opposite too). Yesterday, after dinner, Matthew looked at me and said, “Mommy, you’re beautiful. Beautiful like a candy cane and rainbow.”
My inner schoolgirl could use a snow boost right now. A monster has been unleashed, and I’m struggling with demons. (Hmm, last week it was Gremlin-Elves, this week it’s monsters and demons. What’s with that? I live in a fantasy world, it’s true; and I’m under attack). As you may have noticed there’s a new little feature – a fancy gadget – in the upper left corner of my Blog. Didn’t see it? See it now? That, my friends, is the new source of my torture. Sure, it looks innocent enough – just a subtle single row of numbers, but really this Blog ‘visitors counter’ is nothing but a blow to the self-esteem on display. OK, I am exaggerating, so before you all start clicking on my Blog multiple times a day (let’s call them “Pity Clicks”), allow me to explain.
Jessica, my fellow Blogger, “official” Blog follower of mine, music teacher, friend from the days of yesteryear (including Symphony Camp!), and newly reunited Facebook friend introduced me to this. She said, “I figured out how to put a blog tracker at the bottom (it will count how many people view my blog!) It's very fun. I gave instructions on my blog, so check it out! Then you can actually SEE how popular and awesome you and your blog is!”…um, or not. I’ve become obsessed with this little row of zeros. It’s like 7th grade all over again. How popular am I? What can I do to fit in more? And I don’t know if this is a good or bad thing, but every time I visit my Blog to see what number I’m at, MY visit is counted as a visitor. So, currently the counter reads 00000045, but people, quite a few of those are ME visiting MYSELF!
Sigh. At least my boys occasionally help boost my self-esteem (though they frequently do the opposite too). Yesterday, after dinner, Matthew looked at me and said, “Mommy, you’re beautiful. Beautiful like a candy cane and rainbow.”
Saturday, March 14, 2009
I can now be hired for childrens’ birthday parties – like you would, say, get a pony or a bouncy house or a clown (but without the post-traumatic stress induced nightmares…I hope). You too, can now celebrate your child’s birthday with “Ms. Jenny.” I’m expanding my business, Little Ditties Music Academy, and am starting to market (a wee more aggressively) for the party end of my business. It’s…wait for it…Little Ditties Party! Yes, I make it sound so professional, so fancy: ‘aggressively marketing this aspect of my business’ talk. Really, it just means that I’ve doctored up my brochures and have been including them with my song coloring sheets at my library classes and soon will give them out at preschool and the Montessori school where I teach.
Word of mouth is how I get most of my business, and the libraries may be where it’s at. Last Friday, I had my first classes of a new five week session. I’ve now added one more library to my Friday class schedule. (So, wow. That means I expanded from one class on Fridays to two. Can you handle that? Do you follow? I know it’s VERY confusing.) Anyway, I’ve got a tight schedule. I end my class at the Bellevue library by 11am and then scoot to start my next class at the Lake Hills library at 11:30.
Last week, since it was our first day, the class took a little longer (I explain things a bit more thoroughly, etc.), so I didn’t get out of Bellevue until 11:05. The little gremlin-elves that live inside the traffic lights to change the color (I used to believe this, by the way) hate me apparently. (Which is just not fair as I’m the only one who knows of their existence and I’ve kept their secret quite well, thank you very much. Well, the jig is up!) They laughed with menacingly glee as they quickly scurried up their ladders to slide the red light into place as I approached. I swear it seemed like the lights were green just a second ago! What happened to yellow, for crying out loud?! Were they trying to keep me from bringing music to the toddlers of today, the Mozarts of tomorrow?!
So, with the curse of the Light Gremelves, upon me, I charge into the Lake Hills library at 11:27 for my 11:30 class. There was a very frazzled woman standing right inside the entrance with a clipboard. The moment I banged in the door (with my two huge tote bags full of instruments and boombox), she gasped, “Are you Jenny?!” Uh, what gave it away?
“Yes,” I said, “I’m so sorry. It took me longer to get here than I expected. [Damn evil little light-changing creatures]. But it only takes me a second to set-up. Is the room unlocked?”
“Yes, but that’s not what I care about,” she said, following closely on my heel. “We have a problem.”
Uh-oh. I drop my bags (Kerplunk! Clang! Bang!) down on the table in the meeting room which will soon be transformed into a magical land of musical mayhem. “Um, problem?” I ask as I plug in my stereo and start unloading my box of rhythm sticks, bag of scarves, bottle of bubble juice.
“How many people can you take in the class?” she asks frantically. The woman looked like she might pop a vein or hyperventilate or pee her pants or experience any sort of embarrassing bodily disaster.
“Well, the library takes care of all of the class registration,” I say slowly and calmly, yet firmly, like I’m talking a toddler down from a tantrum, “And the website lists the class as having room for fifteen 2-5 year olds and a parent or grown-up chaperone.”
“Yes,” she snaps, “I know that,” she nearly shouts. (OK, so what’s your question?) “The problem is that we had 15 sign-up,” (that’s a problem?), “And we have a waiting list” (ooh! That’s good! People are interested!), “and they all showed up today…everyone. The 15 AND the waiting list.” (Oh). “And there’s THIRTEEN OF THEM” (Snap), “On the waiting list. There’s THIRTEEN AND THEY’RE ALL HERE…AND SO ARE THE 15!!” (I see the problem).
I picture a crowd, an angry mob, a throng of yelling toddlers and parents banging on the library door with torches and pitch-forks. (I don’t know why, but every angry mob must have torches and pitch-forks, right?!) Or maybe they would be more the peaceful protest type – a sit-in with harmonious singing of ‘hell no, we won’t go’ set to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star: “No, hell no, we won’t go; we won’t go without a show. We are here to sing and play. We are here for class today. No, hell no, we won’t go; we won’t go without a show.” (Yeah, I do that a lot…make-up words to kid tunes. I’m that good. Look, it’s what I do. It’s a gift. Don’t judge me).
“Uh, OK,” I say, stalling…thinking. Then I clear my head and say decisively, “I have enough instruments for 20. And with this room size, I’d say 20 is probably the max that we can take.”
She seems to relax a little now that we have a plan, and she leaves with the tough job of turning away 8 preschool music class wanna-be’s and their dedicated parents.
In the end, I don’t know how many people I had in the class. Every time, I turned back from the stereo or putting away instruments, the crowd seemed to have grown. People kept sneaking in the back door, but I did have ample instruments, scarves, bubbles – of course, and – thank goodness – Little Ditties Party! Brochures and songsheets. Hmm, maybe it was like our own little miracle of the Loaves and the Fishes. I was able to feed the multitude with music. Take that Light Gremlin-Elves! Ha!
Word of mouth is how I get most of my business, and the libraries may be where it’s at. Last Friday, I had my first classes of a new five week session. I’ve now added one more library to my Friday class schedule. (So, wow. That means I expanded from one class on Fridays to two. Can you handle that? Do you follow? I know it’s VERY confusing.) Anyway, I’ve got a tight schedule. I end my class at the Bellevue library by 11am and then scoot to start my next class at the Lake Hills library at 11:30.
Last week, since it was our first day, the class took a little longer (I explain things a bit more thoroughly, etc.), so I didn’t get out of Bellevue until 11:05. The little gremlin-elves that live inside the traffic lights to change the color (I used to believe this, by the way) hate me apparently. (Which is just not fair as I’m the only one who knows of their existence and I’ve kept their secret quite well, thank you very much. Well, the jig is up!) They laughed with menacingly glee as they quickly scurried up their ladders to slide the red light into place as I approached. I swear it seemed like the lights were green just a second ago! What happened to yellow, for crying out loud?! Were they trying to keep me from bringing music to the toddlers of today, the Mozarts of tomorrow?!
So, with the curse of the Light Gremelves, upon me, I charge into the Lake Hills library at 11:27 for my 11:30 class. There was a very frazzled woman standing right inside the entrance with a clipboard. The moment I banged in the door (with my two huge tote bags full of instruments and boombox), she gasped, “Are you Jenny?!” Uh, what gave it away?
“Yes,” I said, “I’m so sorry. It took me longer to get here than I expected. [Damn evil little light-changing creatures]. But it only takes me a second to set-up. Is the room unlocked?”
“Yes, but that’s not what I care about,” she said, following closely on my heel. “We have a problem.”
Uh-oh. I drop my bags (Kerplunk! Clang! Bang!) down on the table in the meeting room which will soon be transformed into a magical land of musical mayhem. “Um, problem?” I ask as I plug in my stereo and start unloading my box of rhythm sticks, bag of scarves, bottle of bubble juice.
“How many people can you take in the class?” she asks frantically. The woman looked like she might pop a vein or hyperventilate or pee her pants or experience any sort of embarrassing bodily disaster.
“Well, the library takes care of all of the class registration,” I say slowly and calmly, yet firmly, like I’m talking a toddler down from a tantrum, “And the website lists the class as having room for fifteen 2-5 year olds and a parent or grown-up chaperone.”
“Yes,” she snaps, “I know that,” she nearly shouts. (OK, so what’s your question?) “The problem is that we had 15 sign-up,” (that’s a problem?), “And we have a waiting list” (ooh! That’s good! People are interested!), “and they all showed up today…everyone. The 15 AND the waiting list.” (Oh). “And there’s THIRTEEN OF THEM” (Snap), “On the waiting list. There’s THIRTEEN AND THEY’RE ALL HERE…AND SO ARE THE 15!!” (I see the problem).
I picture a crowd, an angry mob, a throng of yelling toddlers and parents banging on the library door with torches and pitch-forks. (I don’t know why, but every angry mob must have torches and pitch-forks, right?!) Or maybe they would be more the peaceful protest type – a sit-in with harmonious singing of ‘hell no, we won’t go’ set to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star: “No, hell no, we won’t go; we won’t go without a show. We are here to sing and play. We are here for class today. No, hell no, we won’t go; we won’t go without a show.” (Yeah, I do that a lot…make-up words to kid tunes. I’m that good. Look, it’s what I do. It’s a gift. Don’t judge me).
“Uh, OK,” I say, stalling…thinking. Then I clear my head and say decisively, “I have enough instruments for 20. And with this room size, I’d say 20 is probably the max that we can take.”
She seems to relax a little now that we have a plan, and she leaves with the tough job of turning away 8 preschool music class wanna-be’s and their dedicated parents.
In the end, I don’t know how many people I had in the class. Every time, I turned back from the stereo or putting away instruments, the crowd seemed to have grown. People kept sneaking in the back door, but I did have ample instruments, scarves, bubbles – of course, and – thank goodness – Little Ditties Party! Brochures and songsheets. Hmm, maybe it was like our own little miracle of the Loaves and the Fishes. I was able to feed the multitude with music. Take that Light Gremlin-Elves! Ha!
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
All I can say is I don't understand Daylight Savings. Every time it rolls around I get all befuddled by the concept. "So, wait, the new 5 o'clock is really 4 o'clock? It's lighter...later? But darker earlier...or later?" Look, it's just beyond my comprehension. I don't know if a flow chart would help or a explanitory cartoon complete with conversation bubbles (think early grade science book, perhaps). But not only is confusing -- it's exhausting! And whoever came up with this 'time changing concept' obviously did NOT have children. You can reset a clock. You cannot reset a child. It's tricky business. So, we've done what any any good parent does, we've been going nonstop -- running our children constantly in order to wear them out to hopefully get them reset to this new craziness called 'Daylight Savings'. Monday morning, with dread I awoke to my alarm going off at the 'new' "5:30" (um, really, it's 4:30, people! It's 4:30)! With the slim chance of snow in the forecast, I slowly pulled back the curtain and to my utter glee saw a blanket of white covering every surface. No, "6am" (5AM!!) run for me, thank you very much. The snow has long since melted and yet I still feel like I'm trying to make up for that lost hour.
This weekend we'll be watching our friends' two little boys. From Friday morning 'til Sunday night we'll be chasing after four boys under the age of 5...5 1/2 actually. (Matthew's been correcting us on that ever since his 1/2 birthday last week.) I have a feeling with the extra rippers ripping around here getting caught up on time and sleep is somewhat out of the question. Can't we turn the clocks back, puh-lease?!
This weekend we'll be watching our friends' two little boys. From Friday morning 'til Sunday night we'll be chasing after four boys under the age of 5...5 1/2 actually. (Matthew's been correcting us on that ever since his 1/2 birthday last week.) I have a feeling with the extra rippers ripping around here getting caught up on time and sleep is somewhat out of the question. Can't we turn the clocks back, puh-lease?!
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