I think I'm going to faint. How did eleven years slip past me so quickly? I just don't know how one minute I can have just given birth, and the next, I'm two years away from having a teenager! It's a scary thought, to be sure. I have to say, I am enjoying this stage of life immensely. While it is very busy, I enjoy that I can now have intelligent conversations with The Boy. He is figuring out the world, and when he shares his thoughts and ideas about what he's experiencing, it always leads to some fascinating conversations.
So, in my reminiscing of years past, I decided to throw together a slide show depicting The Boy through the years. He hasn't changed much, facially. In fact, some times it was difficult for me to tell which picture came before or after. Except for this year. His face has really grow up this past year, and I'm not sure I like it. Last week, he came out on deck at the pool where I teach lessons. He has a lesson at the same time I'm in the water teaching. I'm going to keep going with the excuse I didn't have my glasses on or contacts in, but I didn't even recognize my own son!! Who is this pre-teen, and what did you do with my little boy? I keep telling him "When did I ever give YOU permission to grow up!?" This always makes him laugh. He loves this line.
Without further ado...
Monday, December 10, 2007
Sunday, October 07, 2007
How I ended up on a field trip with forty kindergarteners
Today, Hannah danced around the house singing "Daddy comes home tomorrow! Daddy comes home tomorrrrooooooow! YAY! Only one more day. Daddy comes home tomorrooooooowwww!" Man, she has missed him so much. The other two were unhappy at first, but by now, they're just accepting the fact that Dad's been gone all week. Hannah , on the other hand, has not only been very sad, sulky, and unhappy, reminding us every so often that Daddy's gone, has also used it to her advantage. She managed to play the "Daddy's-not-home-and-I'm-really-sad-so-will-you-go-on-my-field-trip-to-the-orchard-with-me-card?"
"Daddy's not home. When will Daddy get home?" She asked for the umpteenth time.
"Not until Sunday," I replied
"when is Sunday?" She inquired, again, for the umpteenth time.
"Let's sing your Days of the week song," I answered again, for the umpteenth time. This was becoming our daily ritual all week, several times a day.
"Let's sing your Days of the week song," I answered again, for the umpteenth time. This was becoming our daily ritual all week, several times a day.
We sang the days of the week to the tune of the Adams family theme, her little fingers trying to snap at the right places. After a bit, she gave up and clapped instead.
"Five more days?" She calculated.
"Yes, five more days," I confirmed.
"I'm sad," Hannah lamented.
"I know," I sympathized. I was tired and already feeling like this week would never end.
"So, will you pick me up so I can pick an apple when we go on the field trip?"
"Um, I'm not sure I'll have to pick you up." Oh crap, I guess I'm chaperoning the kindergarten to the orchard. Must call teacher to see if it's too late to go along, I thought to myself.
"Why?" Hannah asked, puzzled.
"Well, they might not let you pick an apple. Or if they do, the tree might have low branches," I explained.
"You can taste the cider too"
"Oh? We get to taste cider?"
"Yup. Too bad Daddy can't taste the cider," She said all forlorn.
"Yeah," I sympathized again.
"I'm so sad," she repeated.
"I know."
And that's how she snookered me into the field trip this past Thursday.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Morning Insanity
We started giving ourselves about an hour to get ready...but then it became an hour and a half, and now it is up to two hours. The alarm goes off between 5:00 and 5:30...5:30, if we need to "sleep in." Jeremy gets the kids up around 6:00. I climb out of bed after he's done in the bathroom, and start my routine. I put my make-up on then, or else it won't happen...because as soon they get up, the insanity begins.
"Hannah, why aren't you dressed still?" She is sitting in the middle of her floor in her underpants, with socks on.
"I dont know."
"Ruth! I thought you picked your outfit out last night!"
"I did."
"You look like a hooker. No, you cannot wear that skirt anymore, it's too short. And take those long boots off. It's going to be 90 degrees outside!"
"Can I wear eye shadow?"
"No."
"Can I keep this shirt on?" She asks pointing to her sequenced and be-jeweled t-shirt.
"Yes, find different bottoms."
Now Ruth is wandering around half-naked. Joshua, grouchy and half awake, pounds on the bathroom door.
"Haaaannaaaahh! Com'mon! What are you doing!?!? I gotta PEE!"
"Use the downstairs bathroom in the basement," I tell him.
"No. I hate that bathroom." The toilet flushes.
"AAAAAARGH! I yell.
"Sorry Mama, I forgot you were in the shower." Hannah says. I poke my head out of the curtain to see she's still only in her underpants.
"GET DRESSED!" I command. Hannah scurries off. Jer comes in and turns the water on. There goes the rest of my shower. He starts to comb his hair while running the water to brush his teeth.
"HAAAAAAAAANNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!" Ruthie screeches. She pulls open the sliding door, runs into the bathroom with her shirt on, one boot, wild bed hair. "Hannah won't put my other boot dooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwnnn!" She whines. So much for privacy. I have a towel wrapped around my body, one wrapped around my hair, and I am standing there in front of the toilet dripping, waiting for Jeremy to get out of the way so I can make my way to the bedroom to get dressed. Our bathroom is so small, one person has to exit the bathroom to let someone in or out of the bathroom.
"I'm gonna put your boot down on your butt if you dont get a move on," Jeremy says while shaving.
In the meantime, Joshua is dancing in the hallway holding himself. "I've gotta PEE!"
"Use the downstairs bathroom," Jer says calmly.
"But I..."
"Then come in here while I'm shaving."
Joshua doesn't like this option either, but apparently it's better than the downstairs bathroom .
Pushing Hannah, who is still wandering aimless in her panties in the narrow hallway to one side, he shoves Ruth to the other, who has now found pants, leaping over his father who is brushing his hair at the sink. Jeremy calmly shuts the bathroom sliding door as if nothing out of the ordinary. Feeling relieved, Joshua exits the bathroom, stumbles groggily across the hall and pulls his shirt and shorts on. He finds his shoes, and socks, and makes his way downstairs for breakfast. I wander back down the third floor steps from our bedroom to have my turn at the bathroom.
I start doing my hair and putting my make-up on. From downstairs I can hear the calm before the storm.
"Joshua!!! JOSH!!! JOSH!!! JOOOOOOOSSSHHHH!!!! DAAAAADDDDDDY! Joshua won't get me a bowl!!!!" Hannah whines.
"BUT Hannah's NOT even DRESSED!" Josh protests.
"Are you the father?" Jeremy asks.
"No."
"Then get your sister a bowl." Jeremy calls up to me, "Hey, I'm leaving."
"Wait!" I holler back. I come down the stairs with half my make-up on and give him a kiss good-bye.
In the background, I hear the girls fighting. "I was going to eat that! Ruthie, you can't eat the last of the cereal!" "I had it first!" "No I did" "NO I DID!"
I give the Jeremy. a look that says "Please, please don't leave me." He kisses my forehead and walks out the door. Settling the argument between the girls by giving them a lesser favorite cereal and taking away the prized one, I notice Hannah is still undressed.
"HANNAH! Where are your clothes!???"
"I dont know." She says shoving a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.
I run to the basement where I was doing laundry the day before to look for an outfit. The spoiled brat won. She manipulated me into dressing her, I think to myself. I run back upstairs, look at the clock, realize it is almost 8. The kids have to leave at 8:25. Quickly, I throw Hannah's clothes on while she eats her cereal. "MOVE IT!" I tell the kids. Hannah and Joshua finish their bowls of cereal. Ruthie is still piddling around with her spoon. "You're done," I command as I take her nearly full bowl from her. She is still sulking from my all-powerful, yet unfair, verdict in the Hannah V. Ruthie Cereal decision. Ruth begins to cry.
"But I'm hungry," she pouts.
"Then you should have thought about that and eaten your breakfast when it you had the time. Now there is no time. Brush your hair, brush your teeth. Com'mon now. We're going to be late." Fighting ensues upstairs in the bathroom.
Hannah whines like a bad broken record, "But I need to brush my teeth tooooooo. I need space toooooo. I need to brush my teeth. I need to brush my teeth. I need to brush my teeth. Joshua, I need to brush my teeth!"
"I know!" Josh replies with a mouth full of foam. "I'm getting there."
"But I need to brush my teeth."
"I KNOW!"
"But I need to brush my teeth."
"HANNAH! I KNOOOOOOOW! Stop SAYING that!"
"But I need..."
"Ok Hannah that's IS enough. You'll get your turn. Come here, let me do your hair." I look in the mirror and realize my make-up is only half-done. Crap. I almost went out the door looking that way! Bounding down the stairs like an elephant, Joshua heads for the living room. I call after him, "Pack up your book bag, get your lunch out, shoes and socks"
"I know. I know." He retorts. "I HAVE my shoes and socks on."
"Don't you dare get smart with me." After that remark, Josh nearly saw death, had it not been for the fact I was combing a rat's nest out of Hannah's hair.
"I'm sorry," he quickly repents hearing my displeasure in my voice.
"OW! OW! OW! OW!" Hannah cries over the din. Ruth begins to brush her teeth carefully polishing one tooth at a time.
"A little faster there, please Ruthie," I dictate. I hear Kung-Fu going on in my living room. "WOOOOOOSH! PKSHHHHHHHH! HAAaaaaaaaa-WA!!!"
"JOOOOSH?" I ask in a sing-song voice.
"Yes?" comes the meek and feeble voice.
"Are you all done?"
"No," he confesses.
"What time is it?" I call down the stairs. Now I'm brushing Ruth's hair and Hannah is brushing her teeth. Gotta remember to finish my make-up.
"Now I'm done! OH! And it's 8:15!" Joshua calls up. Hannah finishes brushing her teeth and I send her down the stairs.
"Then help Hannah find her shoes and socks."
"Shoes and Socks. Shoooooes and Socks," Joshua chants to himself as he wanders, running, literally, aimlessly looking into space, pretending to look for them. "Hannah, where'd you take them off?"
"I don't know." She says and then calls up to me, "Mama? Why can't I wear sandals?"
"Because of recess. You can't run and play well in sandals. And I never know when you're going to have Gym." I call downstairs as I finish Ruth's hair. "Now what time is it, Josh?"
"8:20" He hollars. Now we're all running around. I quickly slap on the rest of my make-up. And race down the stairs. Ruth looks lost, and she is also shoeless. I find the girls shoes. Joshua puts Hannah's shoes on. "Get your lunches in your backpacks, now." I command to Ruth and Hannah. Hannah produces her lunch.
"I forgot to make mine last night," Ruthie says all forlorn.
"Oh for goodness sake," I say, because it is the Rated-G version of what I want to say. "Grab your lunch box." From the cabinet I snag two pieces of bread, and faster than the eye can see, and slap some Jiffy Hannah butter on it. Ruth frantically shoves corn chips into a baggy and grabs an apple and a bottle of water. Suddenly I take notice of the table. "OH FOR CRYIN' OUT LOUD!" I whine in my disgust. Three bowls of left-over cereal millk and their left over cereal flotsam and jetsam are still sitting on the table, along with the gallon of milk, and all the boxes of cereal. Crumbs are everywhere. Soggy cereal is already beginning to do its magical ahere-to-the-table-like-super-glue trick. "Josh, quick. Put the bowls in the sink. I'll get it when I get home from work. Milk away. Cereal away. Quickly! Quickly! Ok...now, everyone have everything? Bookbags? Lunches? Homework?" Three heads nod at me. "Great, get in the car." They tumble out the door tripping over each other, shoving and fighting the whole way onto the porch. I shut the door behind me, and command again, "What does get in the car mean? GET IN THE CAR!" Hustling down the cement steps, Hannah trips and scrapes her leg.
"It's BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDINGGG!" she wails
"Joshua, Ruth, Get. in. the. car. Take her backpack. Hannah. Quick. Come with me." I open the door, run inside, she is still wailing about the blood and slap a bandaid on her knee. "Better?"
"No." She whines. Dang, not sufficient enough time to give her the royal Mommy-Boo-Boo treatment. Instead I opt for drill sargeant Mom, "Well, tough it out, we don't have time. You'll be fine." I feel like a heel. Picking Hannah up, I kiss her forehead to make up for my insensitivity to her obvious trauma and pain. I carry her down to the car which Josh and Ruth are STILL not in. They are looking at ants on the sidewalk. No words can express the stress I am now feeling, as the time is now well past 8:25 and the threat of missing the late bell is looming. The kids pile into the van. I tear off while they start buckling their belts. Having dropped off the older kids at the Elementary center, I make my way through the insane traffic to the Primary Center, a mere two blocks away. People and cars are everywhere because there is a very loose system for kid-drop off. And what exists, is often not followed by the many crazy parents out there. Finding a spot to pull in, I walk Hannah across the street, feeling a bit like Frogger, to her school. I kiss her good-bye, and risk my life to cross the street again to get back to my car. Putting my radio on, I head off to work. About half way there, I hear my phone and let it go to voice mail. Sigh. Someone forgot their lunch or homework. I think to myself.
And that is pretty much what every morning in our home looks like.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Peanut in Kindergarten, Pt 2.
This past week we had open house at the kids school. I went to Hannah's open house. Jeremy went to the other kids' open house. I got my first glimpse of Hannah-the-student from her teacher.
Apparently, one day a little girl in her class had a birthday. She wore a birthday crown. Hannah came into the classroom dancing and singing "Celebrate Good Times! COM'MON!"
I also discovered why she has had an intense interest in learning to snap. They sing the days of the week song to the tune of the "Adam's Family" theme.
Afterward I took a look at the artwork on the walls of the hallway. There was an entire row of papers that said “My name is… and I like…”
Almost all of the papers went something like this:
“My name is Olivia and I like apples”
“My name is John and I like dogs.”
“My name is Angela and I like kittens.”
And of course, they all copied after another, so almost all of the kids liked apples, dogs or kittens.
Except one.
“My name is Hannah. And I like…hair.”
She drew a picture of someone with HUGE hair...piles and piles of hair.
In another art project, they traced their bodies, and then drew a face, clothes, etc. She gave herself blue hair.
The other day Hannah came home with a paper she didn't finish in school. It had a stamp on it saying, "Please finish and return." I asked her, "Why didn't you finish this?" She replied with a serious 'tude, "Because I didn't feel like it."
She rarely talks about school. I asked her once if she liked it. She said she did. I asked her if she had any friends. She said "One." I asked, "What's her name?" She said, "I dont know. I forget." One day in the car, Hannah just randomly said to no one, in the middle of a totally unrelated conversation, "I sit at the blue trapppppppppa-zoid table. What's a trapezoid?"
So, apparently she's the class clown, which is nothing less than I expected. She's a normal kindergartener, which is all I could ask for. And she doesnt remember the details of her day, which doesn't surprise me at all.
Apparently, one day a little girl in her class had a birthday. She wore a birthday crown. Hannah came into the classroom dancing and singing "Celebrate Good Times! COM'MON!"
I also discovered why she has had an intense interest in learning to snap. They sing the days of the week song to the tune of the "Adam's Family" theme.
Afterward I took a look at the artwork on the walls of the hallway. There was an entire row of papers that said “My name is… and I like…”
Almost all of the papers went something like this:
“My name is Olivia and I like apples”
“My name is John and I like dogs.”
“My name is Angela and I like kittens.”
And of course, they all copied after another, so almost all of the kids liked apples, dogs or kittens.
Except one.
“My name is Hannah. And I like…hair.”
She drew a picture of someone with HUGE hair...piles and piles of hair.
In another art project, they traced their bodies, and then drew a face, clothes, etc. She gave herself blue hair.
The other day Hannah came home with a paper she didn't finish in school. It had a stamp on it saying, "Please finish and return." I asked her, "Why didn't you finish this?" She replied with a serious 'tude, "Because I didn't feel like it."
She rarely talks about school. I asked her once if she liked it. She said she did. I asked her if she had any friends. She said "One." I asked, "What's her name?" She said, "I dont know. I forget." One day in the car, Hannah just randomly said to no one, in the middle of a totally unrelated conversation, "I sit at the blue trapppppppppa-zoid table. What's a trapezoid?"
So, apparently she's the class clown, which is nothing less than I expected. She's a normal kindergartener, which is all I could ask for. And she doesnt remember the details of her day, which doesn't surprise me at all.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Welcome to Kindergarten, Hannah
Here they are, waiting to go.
A close up of Hannah. See how happy she is to go to Kindergarten?
They mailed home this letter with these goofy stickers. The sticker would coordinate with the teacher's big goofy sign. Hannah had a big orange number two sticker. 
"Oh look, you have a goofy orange number two on your shirt too! We must be in the same class."
We had to wait in line to enter the building.
Once inside, I wanted her to pose again. She was too distracted and excited to stay still. Then the batteries to my camera died before I got a picture of her in line with her class and teacher. Phooey.
_____________________________________
"June 30th," she replied.
"No it's NOT," answered Ruthie. "It's the 18th!"
"Oh yeah. I forgot," Hannah giggled.
"So then, what else did you do today?" I asked.
"I sat on the big blue carpet and we talked about our family and pets," she said.
"Do you have a locker?"
"Yes, and a cubbie."
"What was your special?"
"Computers. I played a game with bugs in it."
"How was lunch?"
"Good. I wasn't very thirsty though."
"Did you make any friends?"
"Yeah. One girl."
"What was her name?"
"I don't remember. But I sat next to her at lunch."
Sounds like she had a very good first day. She's looking forward to going back tomorrow.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
You know you need to go grocery shopping when...
"Mama, there's nothing for breakfast," Hannah lamented
"I see some KIX down there," I replied.
"I don't really like those, and we're out of bread, so I can't have that either," she pointed out to me.
"Well," I answered, being more tolerant and agreeable than usual with a five year old, "You could have one of my granola bars."
"They're peanut butter. I don't like peanut butter," she stated matter-of-factly.
We walked away from the cabinets and over to the refrigerator. I opened the door and noticed the American cheese on the shelf. "How about cheese?" I offered.
Hannah considered it for a moment and then decided against the cheese. I didn't blame her. How well could American cheese hold a five year old tummy over to lunch anyhow? That's when I spotted the bag of left-over rice from dinner.
"How about some rice?"
"YEAH! RICE! yeah! yeah!" Hannah danced as I spooned the rice into a bowl. While the rice microwaved she repeated in a hushed voice, "yeah rice. Yeah. yeah. yeah Rice! yeah. yeah. Yeah RICE! yeah. yeah." The microwaved beeped and she said, "You'll put butter on it for me, won't you? I really like it with butter."
"Sure, baby. I'll put whatever butter I can scrape off of this wrapper," I replied while trying to get every last inch of butter on to the spoon. "Let me see if there is more butter in the fridge." I saw a carton, but alas no butter. Why doesn't anyone throw away the empty containers around here? I thought to myself. "How about some of Mama's special butter? mmmmm...." I said trying to convince her that my Dairy Free, Lactose Free, Trans-Fat Free Earth Balance spread was just as yummy.
"Sure," she replied without blinking. She danced all the way to the table. "Rice. Riiiiiiiice. Rice. Riiiiiiiiiiice. Rice. I like rice. I love rice. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice! YAY RICE!" Hannah sang. Hannah makes songs for all of her favorite things. I was not surprised to hear the "Rice" song.
She ate contently and then got down from the table. "Go get dressed and brush your teeth," I commanded. I walked over to the table to get her bowl and put it in the sink. Unlike when she eats cereal and wastes a good deal of the milk and cereal, her bowl was practically licked clean. The girl loves her rice.
"I see some KIX down there," I replied.
"I don't really like those, and we're out of bread, so I can't have that either," she pointed out to me.
"Well," I answered, being more tolerant and agreeable than usual with a five year old, "You could have one of my granola bars."
"They're peanut butter. I don't like peanut butter," she stated matter-of-factly.
We walked away from the cabinets and over to the refrigerator. I opened the door and noticed the American cheese on the shelf. "How about cheese?" I offered.
Hannah considered it for a moment and then decided against the cheese. I didn't blame her. How well could American cheese hold a five year old tummy over to lunch anyhow? That's when I spotted the bag of left-over rice from dinner.
"How about some rice?"
"YEAH! RICE! yeah! yeah!" Hannah danced as I spooned the rice into a bowl. While the rice microwaved she repeated in a hushed voice, "yeah rice. Yeah. yeah. yeah Rice! yeah. yeah. Yeah RICE! yeah. yeah." The microwaved beeped and she said, "You'll put butter on it for me, won't you? I really like it with butter."
"Sure, baby. I'll put whatever butter I can scrape off of this wrapper," I replied while trying to get every last inch of butter on to the spoon. "Let me see if there is more butter in the fridge." I saw a carton, but alas no butter. Why doesn't anyone throw away the empty containers around here? I thought to myself. "How about some of Mama's special butter? mmmmm...." I said trying to convince her that my Dairy Free, Lactose Free, Trans-Fat Free Earth Balance spread was just as yummy.
"Sure," she replied without blinking. She danced all the way to the table. "Rice. Riiiiiiiice. Rice. Riiiiiiiiiiice. Rice. I like rice. I love rice. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice! YAY RICE!" Hannah sang. Hannah makes songs for all of her favorite things. I was not surprised to hear the "Rice" song.
She ate contently and then got down from the table. "Go get dressed and brush your teeth," I commanded. I walked over to the table to get her bowl and put it in the sink. Unlike when she eats cereal and wastes a good deal of the milk and cereal, her bowl was practically licked clean. The girl loves her rice.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Those were the days my friend...
My folks are moving. We helped clean out their house a bit. Still a long way to go. I didn't realize I had packed away my childhood and left it in their attic. Seriously. I'd almost venture to say that a little less than half of the boxes were my childhood crap...books, letters, toys, even.
So, today I started going through this box of letters. First, I discovered all of my former relationships were documented through letters...both in friendships and romance. Eeks! Why oh why did I save them?
I haven't even really read any of the letters, but the most exciting find of the day was the very first letter the Jeremy ever wrote to me from Basic training. Yeah, I still can't read his handwriting. But what I could read, I laughed all the more. Ah, the memories. I'm smiling just thinking about it. He was in love with me, and I was not interested. But I remember being thrilled to receive that first letter.
Then I found a letter from Grandma while I was away at camp. It nearly broke me. I didn't realize I still had something with her handwriting on it. I know it's been almost fourteen years since she passed, but still some days I miss her so much. I couldn't read it. It was almost too much just to look at it.
Some other fun finds through my crap: my etcha-sketch animators. Oh man, did I love these. The kids put batteries into them and have been having fun playing with them. I figured out how to work the one animator. I'd have to re-read the manual for the more advanced model. Anyway, I showed Ruth how to use the more basic one, and she picked it up relatively well. But boy did it stretch my memory trying to figure out how to make it work. Yay for good memories!
Then there was the sound studio toy that I had wanted. I was probably too old for such a toy, but I still wanted it and I still had fun with it. I handed that to the kids too. Actually, I gave it to Hannah since Ruth already has a Karaoke machine. Joshua found some D batteries (he is the "battery king" after all) and they've been having a blast with it. I forgot how annoying the dumb sound effects are.
The other stuff I had packed away were my dolls and barbies and books. Lots and lots of books. The kids have been enjoying reading the books I read as a kid. I didn't keep them all, just the ones I thought they'd be interested in. We also divided up the board games. I look forward to playing some of them with my kids. However, my mom insisted I take the National Geographic Global Pursuit game with us because the Jeremy "Would really enjoy it" I protested, "NOOOOOOOOooo! He'll make me play it with hiiiiimmmmmmmmmm! Ahhhhhhhhhh!" And for that matter, we took the 80's edition of Trivial Pursuit.
Also, I found the quilt that belongs to the rope bed I inherited from the afore mentioned Grandma along with some of her knitting yarns. And we haven't even gotten through my parent's basement. Ah to be a packrat...
So, today I started going through this box of letters. First, I discovered all of my former relationships were documented through letters...both in friendships and romance. Eeks! Why oh why did I save them?
I haven't even really read any of the letters, but the most exciting find of the day was the very first letter the Jeremy ever wrote to me from Basic training. Yeah, I still can't read his handwriting. But what I could read, I laughed all the more. Ah, the memories. I'm smiling just thinking about it. He was in love with me, and I was not interested. But I remember being thrilled to receive that first letter.
Then I found a letter from Grandma while I was away at camp. It nearly broke me. I didn't realize I still had something with her handwriting on it. I know it's been almost fourteen years since she passed, but still some days I miss her so much. I couldn't read it. It was almost too much just to look at it.
Some other fun finds through my crap: my etcha-sketch animators. Oh man, did I love these. The kids put batteries into them and have been having fun playing with them. I figured out how to work the one animator. I'd have to re-read the manual for the more advanced model. Anyway, I showed Ruth how to use the more basic one, and she picked it up relatively well. But boy did it stretch my memory trying to figure out how to make it work. Yay for good memories!
Then there was the sound studio toy that I had wanted. I was probably too old for such a toy, but I still wanted it and I still had fun with it. I handed that to the kids too. Actually, I gave it to Hannah since Ruth already has a Karaoke machine. Joshua found some D batteries (he is the "battery king" after all) and they've been having a blast with it. I forgot how annoying the dumb sound effects are.
The other stuff I had packed away were my dolls and barbies and books. Lots and lots of books. The kids have been enjoying reading the books I read as a kid. I didn't keep them all, just the ones I thought they'd be interested in. We also divided up the board games. I look forward to playing some of them with my kids. However, my mom insisted I take the National Geographic Global Pursuit game with us because the Jeremy "Would really enjoy it" I protested, "NOOOOOOOOooo! He'll make me play it with hiiiiimmmmmmmmmm! Ahhhhhhhhhh!" And for that matter, we took the 80's edition of Trivial Pursuit.
Also, I found the quilt that belongs to the rope bed I inherited from the afore mentioned Grandma along with some of her knitting yarns. And we haven't even gotten through my parent's basement. Ah to be a packrat...
Friday, July 06, 2007
Sibling Rivalry
As I said in a previous post, the small un-submissive heathens in this house have been trying to stage a mutiny. However, there is major dissent amongst the ranks. The arguing has got to stop. Who knew kissing could be such a horrific punishment?
I didn't intend for it to be a punishment, really, though I always figure the punishment should fit the crime. I just thought I'd force some affection between the sibling trio as a response to their continuous quarrelling. I warned them, "If I hear anyone arguing with each other, I will make you kiss each other on the cheek, because I know deep down in your hearts, you really and truly LOVE each other." Joshua made a face of disgust.
Yesterday, during quarrel number 4,793 at The Crazy Bunny Lady's (CBL) House I stopped them mid-sentence and said, "Kiss each other."
"Right now?"
"Yes. I don't want to hear another word. Kiss each other on the cheek."
Ruth looked at me and started to well up with tears. Joshua made a face of disgust as if he were involved in a haggis eating contest.
"I...I...I...don't wanna..." Ruth began.
Joshua, sensing my rising ire, quickly leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. I gave Ruth the look which said, "Now it's your turn." With great big tears and a large amount of reluctance, she pecked her brother quickly on his cheek while he cringed, eyes closed tightly. Then, as if a dog had just licked him up and down his face, Joshua started to groan and wipe his hands all over his cheeks and mouth, "UGH. That's awful. Ugh! Oh man! UGH!" Ruth wiped her cheek and mouth and pouted. CBL tried hard not to laugh, which made me have to fight back laughter too. It did put the argument to a screaming halt making both CBL and I realize it was quite an effective argument remmedy, at least that once.
So this afternoon, I sent the kids upstairs to tidy up their rooms before heading out to the pool when I heard the rumblings of yet another disagreement. "Do you two need to give each other another kiss?" I hollered up the stairs. Almost in unison, they replied emphatically, "NO!" I think it was the first and only thing they've agreed upon all summer.
I didn't intend for it to be a punishment, really, though I always figure the punishment should fit the crime. I just thought I'd force some affection between the sibling trio as a response to their continuous quarrelling. I warned them, "If I hear anyone arguing with each other, I will make you kiss each other on the cheek, because I know deep down in your hearts, you really and truly LOVE each other." Joshua made a face of disgust.
Yesterday, during quarrel number 4,793 at The Crazy Bunny Lady's (CBL) House I stopped them mid-sentence and said, "Kiss each other."
"Right now?"
"Yes. I don't want to hear another word. Kiss each other on the cheek."
Ruth looked at me and started to well up with tears. Joshua made a face of disgust as if he were involved in a haggis eating contest.
"I...I...I...don't wanna..." Ruth began.
Joshua, sensing my rising ire, quickly leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. I gave Ruth the look which said, "Now it's your turn." With great big tears and a large amount of reluctance, she pecked her brother quickly on his cheek while he cringed, eyes closed tightly. Then, as if a dog had just licked him up and down his face, Joshua started to groan and wipe his hands all over his cheeks and mouth, "UGH. That's awful. Ugh! Oh man! UGH!" Ruth wiped her cheek and mouth and pouted. CBL tried hard not to laugh, which made me have to fight back laughter too. It did put the argument to a screaming halt making both CBL and I realize it was quite an effective argument remmedy, at least that once.
So this afternoon, I sent the kids upstairs to tidy up their rooms before heading out to the pool when I heard the rumblings of yet another disagreement. "Do you two need to give each other another kiss?" I hollered up the stairs. Almost in unison, they replied emphatically, "NO!" I think it was the first and only thing they've agreed upon all summer.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Lazy summer
I took the summer off to recover, and I think I'm getting a little overboard. It is 11:26 in the morning. I still havent showered, nor put in my contact (I'm typing this blind) nor combed my hair, and I'm still in my Pajamas. Yeah, this is living.
The kids normally do swim team. I put my foot down on that. It was a hard decision, but it has been good to sleep in. Actually, it's been great to have kids that can get up, feed themselves, and behave while I catch a few extra million Z's that I seemed to have been missing since the birth of my first born ten years ago. No one ever tells you that your sleep habits will never ever ever be the same. Any little noise, I'm awake. I always was a light sleeper, but after having kids, it's almost rediculous how alert I am, even in my sleep. That being said, going back to college was just a double whammy. So, I started out this month, when the kids got out of school, just sleeping it away. Now I'm finally up and about more, but I'm still just laying low, going to the pool, that sort of stuff...keeping the house clean. Which reminds me...I have some major dishes to do.
The kids normally do swim team. I put my foot down on that. It was a hard decision, but it has been good to sleep in. Actually, it's been great to have kids that can get up, feed themselves, and behave while I catch a few extra million Z's that I seemed to have been missing since the birth of my first born ten years ago. No one ever tells you that your sleep habits will never ever ever be the same. Any little noise, I'm awake. I always was a light sleeper, but after having kids, it's almost rediculous how alert I am, even in my sleep. That being said, going back to college was just a double whammy. So, I started out this month, when the kids got out of school, just sleeping it away. Now I'm finally up and about more, but I'm still just laying low, going to the pool, that sort of stuff...keeping the house clean. Which reminds me...I have some major dishes to do.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Been awhile...
I've been busy, cleaning, weeding. Etc.
The Boy had his spring concert and well, lets just say, I totally understand his frustration with playing so-called music with his peers. He's just ahead of the game, and it is difficult to go backwards. Personally, I think he'll develop some really good skills and an internal sense of timing. At least that's what I keep telling myself. At anyrate, Pop bought him a cowbell, since "Boys dont get flowers after a performance."
The Boy has been desperate for a cowbell for awhile. He likes quoting the SNL skit, "I've gotta fever...and the only prescription is...MORE COWBELL!" We were barely home two minutes when he had put it on his high hat stand and ran downstairs to jam. I recorded several segments of his marathon jam session and edited them together.
Enjoy!
The Boy had his spring concert and well, lets just say, I totally understand his frustration with playing so-called music with his peers. He's just ahead of the game, and it is difficult to go backwards. Personally, I think he'll develop some really good skills and an internal sense of timing. At least that's what I keep telling myself. At anyrate, Pop bought him a cowbell, since "Boys dont get flowers after a performance."
The Boy has been desperate for a cowbell for awhile. He likes quoting the SNL skit, "I've gotta fever...and the only prescription is...MORE COWBELL!" We were barely home two minutes when he had put it on his high hat stand and ran downstairs to jam. I recorded several segments of his marathon jam session and edited them together.
Enjoy!
Monday, April 09, 2007
Happy Anniversary to Us!
Sunday was our twelfth anniversary. It's just so hard to believe we've been married twelve years. What's even harder to believe is that we've been a couple for almost fourteen years. And then when I think about how long I actually knew the Jeremy. or rather knew of him, I can count back nineteen years. Yes, that's right, nineteen years.
I had just moved to the new school eight weeks before my seventh grade year was about to end. And when I started back up in eighth grade, I still knew nobody. I remember being shuffled into the auditorium for the school spelling bee. I daydreamed through most of it, but I did pay attention to the last two contestants. The Jeremy. was one of them. I cannot remember who he was against, I just remember being told by the girl next to me, "Route for him, because she's annoying." I vaguely remember hoping he'd win, because the girl next to me told me too.
The next memory I have of my husband when we were kids, was of my sister being the Jeremy's best friend's "girlfriend" for all of two months. A typical jr. high romance, they held hands in school, and called each other at night to watch Star Trek TNG while on the phone. All I remember aside from that, is that everywhere my sister's "boy friend" was, there was the Jeremy. somewhere near behind.
After eighth grade, we spent four years in gym class together. I watched him barely make it through warm-ups. I'm sure if he were observant, he'd have said the same of me. The two most uncoordinated people in gym, we always ended up being the last to pass the torturous skills tests. In gym, we had to pass a battery of skills tests to be able to play the sport-du-jour. Every so often, for one reason or another, gym class would be cancelled and we'd sit on the bleachers for the entire class period. It was a very rare occurrence, but I remember one of these times, the Jeremy. sat near me. "You're not very good at gym, are you?" He asked. He had a habit of being rather to the point.
"No, but neither are you," I retorted.
He laughed and then said, "Have you ever played mental tic-tac-toe?"
"No, can't say that I have," I wasn't sure at this point if I should be creeped out by this guy or not. And he proceeded, whether I was interested or not in playing mental tic-tac-toe to point out the finer details of the game. Before I knew it, I was saying numbers, and losing horribly to this guy I barely knew.
By our junior year, I was in at least three classes with the Jeremy.: Gym, Health, and Chemistry. My memory of him of that year is a little bit better because we tended to have a lot of contact in chemistry. He liked this girl who was a friend of mine. Actually, he had a crush on her since the sixth grade, and so whenever she and I would do "group work" he'd invite himself to be a part of our little group. One particular time we were working on a worksheet together, I felt this pair of eyes on me. I looked up, and the Jeremy. was staring at me. "Does it bother you when I stare at you like this?" he asked in a very creepy sounding, yet flat voice.
"Um, yeah," I replied wondering what on earth was wrong with this kid.
"I thought so." He said and returned to his work.
I rolled my eyes and ignored him.
I also knew the Jeremy. as the braniac in the back of the class. There was this boy, Brian, who sat near the front but always looked towards the back. Whenever the Jeremy. would raise his hand, Brian would shake his head. I sat near the middle and gauged Brian's reaction, because if he shook his head, that meant the Jeremy. had a question, and that meant we were in for a very complicated question, and a brain draining answer. Whenever Brian shook his head, the whole class groaned silently.
I chose not to go to our junior prom, and in doing so, I was left to be in school all prom-day, while prom goers got to go home early to get beautified. The Jeremy. was also not going to the prom. We were the only two kids in health and chemistry. In health class, we shoved the chalkboard eraser back and forth along the chalk/eraser holder thing at the bottom of the board, making a game of it. And in chemistry we catalogued chemicals. "You're not going to the prom?!??" the Jeremy. asked me incredulously.
"No. I went last year, it was ok. It's just too expensive and everyone ends up going home miserable because they leave with people they didn't come with and then dates end up being dumped. I don't know how many girls I counted in the bathroom crying. I had fun because I went with my boyfriend, but I don't have a boyfriend this year since we broke up, and I just don't want to go."
Tuning out that whole spiel, he replied, "Oh, you look like the type to be able to get a date to go." He paused for a minute, and added, "I'm just really surprised, I really thought you'd go to the prom." After an awkward bit of silence, we continued to catalogue chemicals. (Years later, I found out, the Jeremy. didn't even remember this conversation...or that I was even in any of his classes!).
Our senior year, we ended up in three classes again: Physics, Calculus, and of course, Gym. By this point, we were kind of getting to know each other, and when we were both trying to pass skills tests in gym, we began working together. One test for volleyball was "pass ten bumps back and forth to a partner." Maybe not so hard for someone who has coordination, but he and I never got it. We'd maybe pass two or three bumps or sets to each other, and then the ball would go wild across the gymnasium and interrupt the game that was going on amongst the students who had passed their skills tests, much to their annoyance.
In Physics, he sat at my table because our last names put us there, but it also put him right next to his crush, and so it was the three of us again, working through group projects, labs, etc. In calculus, he sat in front of his friend, who was a mutual friend of mine, and the three of us would work on assignments together. I attempted studying calculus, once, with this Jeremy. Instead, he showed me fractals, made me listen to Vivaldi's Rite of Spring, and I don't remember what all else. I never attempted studying with him again and chose to study with our mutual friend, who actually was trying to pass calculus. I'll never forget the day when our friend said, "Man I'm failing miserably in this class."
To which, the Jeremy. replied very cheerfully, "Oh I don't know, I'm failing quite happily in this class."
Yeah.
It really was through the school musical and our trip to Disney World, that I began to get to really know the Jeremy. My sister was in the pit orchestra, so was the Jeremy. and I was one of the leads. She carted him to practice and home a couple of times. Since we shared a vehicle, when they started putting the orchestra with the stage players, I, obviously, came along. It was around that time, I found out later, he began to crush on me. He'd make faces at me from the pit. When I was trying to be serious and sing my part, he was busy trying to derail my concentration. He'd sing lines from my part to me in the hall way. He changed his seat in Physics class, so he was now sitting between his former crush and me. Somewhere near Prom time he asked me to go with him. I said "No, I'm not going." Towards the end of the year he handed me two poems he had written for me. I wish I had kept them, but I wasn't interested in him, and so I tossed the pieces of paper upon which he had confessed his love for me. Thankfully he was very persistent.
The Jeremy. headed out for the army the day after graduation, and I didn't see him for six months. He continued to write me, sent me a birthday card, and when he got out of Basic Training, he called. And through those months I started to realize I really cared about him. He came home for Christmas, and I saw him. My family claims it was the push-ups that won me over, but I think it was the enduring friendship combined with realizing that he was my match. And he could make me laugh. I think he cracks me up every day . We're opposite in many ways, but have many common interests. He balances me out. I balance him. And sometimes that is what makes our relationship difficult. But it is also the thing that has made me a better person. I would not be the woman I am today if it weren't for him.
We dated about a year and a half long distance. He was in California; I was in Pennsylvania. When the army told him he was probably being sent to Germany, I told him, I couldn't do the trans-Atlantic distance, so we decided to get married. It has been an interesting journey so far when I think of where we've been, what we've been through, and then I wonder where we're going. I suppose only time will tell. :)
I had just moved to the new school eight weeks before my seventh grade year was about to end. And when I started back up in eighth grade, I still knew nobody. I remember being shuffled into the auditorium for the school spelling bee. I daydreamed through most of it, but I did pay attention to the last two contestants. The Jeremy. was one of them. I cannot remember who he was against, I just remember being told by the girl next to me, "Route for him, because she's annoying." I vaguely remember hoping he'd win, because the girl next to me told me too.
The next memory I have of my husband when we were kids, was of my sister being the Jeremy's best friend's "girlfriend" for all of two months. A typical jr. high romance, they held hands in school, and called each other at night to watch Star Trek TNG while on the phone. All I remember aside from that, is that everywhere my sister's "boy friend" was, there was the Jeremy. somewhere near behind.
After eighth grade, we spent four years in gym class together. I watched him barely make it through warm-ups. I'm sure if he were observant, he'd have said the same of me. The two most uncoordinated people in gym, we always ended up being the last to pass the torturous skills tests. In gym, we had to pass a battery of skills tests to be able to play the sport-du-jour. Every so often, for one reason or another, gym class would be cancelled and we'd sit on the bleachers for the entire class period. It was a very rare occurrence, but I remember one of these times, the Jeremy. sat near me. "You're not very good at gym, are you?" He asked. He had a habit of being rather to the point.
"No, but neither are you," I retorted.
He laughed and then said, "Have you ever played mental tic-tac-toe?"
"No, can't say that I have," I wasn't sure at this point if I should be creeped out by this guy or not. And he proceeded, whether I was interested or not in playing mental tic-tac-toe to point out the finer details of the game. Before I knew it, I was saying numbers, and losing horribly to this guy I barely knew.
By our junior year, I was in at least three classes with the Jeremy.: Gym, Health, and Chemistry. My memory of him of that year is a little bit better because we tended to have a lot of contact in chemistry. He liked this girl who was a friend of mine. Actually, he had a crush on her since the sixth grade, and so whenever she and I would do "group work" he'd invite himself to be a part of our little group. One particular time we were working on a worksheet together, I felt this pair of eyes on me. I looked up, and the Jeremy. was staring at me. "Does it bother you when I stare at you like this?" he asked in a very creepy sounding, yet flat voice.
"Um, yeah," I replied wondering what on earth was wrong with this kid.
"I thought so." He said and returned to his work.
I rolled my eyes and ignored him.
I also knew the Jeremy. as the braniac in the back of the class. There was this boy, Brian, who sat near the front but always looked towards the back. Whenever the Jeremy. would raise his hand, Brian would shake his head. I sat near the middle and gauged Brian's reaction, because if he shook his head, that meant the Jeremy. had a question, and that meant we were in for a very complicated question, and a brain draining answer. Whenever Brian shook his head, the whole class groaned silently.
I chose not to go to our junior prom, and in doing so, I was left to be in school all prom-day, while prom goers got to go home early to get beautified. The Jeremy. was also not going to the prom. We were the only two kids in health and chemistry. In health class, we shoved the chalkboard eraser back and forth along the chalk/eraser holder thing at the bottom of the board, making a game of it. And in chemistry we catalogued chemicals. "You're not going to the prom?!??" the Jeremy. asked me incredulously.
"No. I went last year, it was ok. It's just too expensive and everyone ends up going home miserable because they leave with people they didn't come with and then dates end up being dumped. I don't know how many girls I counted in the bathroom crying. I had fun because I went with my boyfriend, but I don't have a boyfriend this year since we broke up, and I just don't want to go."
Tuning out that whole spiel, he replied, "Oh, you look like the type to be able to get a date to go." He paused for a minute, and added, "I'm just really surprised, I really thought you'd go to the prom." After an awkward bit of silence, we continued to catalogue chemicals. (Years later, I found out, the Jeremy. didn't even remember this conversation...or that I was even in any of his classes!).
Our senior year, we ended up in three classes again: Physics, Calculus, and of course, Gym. By this point, we were kind of getting to know each other, and when we were both trying to pass skills tests in gym, we began working together. One test for volleyball was "pass ten bumps back and forth to a partner." Maybe not so hard for someone who has coordination, but he and I never got it. We'd maybe pass two or three bumps or sets to each other, and then the ball would go wild across the gymnasium and interrupt the game that was going on amongst the students who had passed their skills tests, much to their annoyance.
In Physics, he sat at my table because our last names put us there, but it also put him right next to his crush, and so it was the three of us again, working through group projects, labs, etc. In calculus, he sat in front of his friend, who was a mutual friend of mine, and the three of us would work on assignments together. I attempted studying calculus, once, with this Jeremy. Instead, he showed me fractals, made me listen to Vivaldi's Rite of Spring, and I don't remember what all else. I never attempted studying with him again and chose to study with our mutual friend, who actually was trying to pass calculus. I'll never forget the day when our friend said, "Man I'm failing miserably in this class."
To which, the Jeremy. replied very cheerfully, "Oh I don't know, I'm failing quite happily in this class."
Yeah.
It really was through the school musical and our trip to Disney World, that I began to get to really know the Jeremy. My sister was in the pit orchestra, so was the Jeremy. and I was one of the leads. She carted him to practice and home a couple of times. Since we shared a vehicle, when they started putting the orchestra with the stage players, I, obviously, came along. It was around that time, I found out later, he began to crush on me. He'd make faces at me from the pit. When I was trying to be serious and sing my part, he was busy trying to derail my concentration. He'd sing lines from my part to me in the hall way. He changed his seat in Physics class, so he was now sitting between his former crush and me. Somewhere near Prom time he asked me to go with him. I said "No, I'm not going." Towards the end of the year he handed me two poems he had written for me. I wish I had kept them, but I wasn't interested in him, and so I tossed the pieces of paper upon which he had confessed his love for me. Thankfully he was very persistent.
The Jeremy. headed out for the army the day after graduation, and I didn't see him for six months. He continued to write me, sent me a birthday card, and when he got out of Basic Training, he called. And through those months I started to realize I really cared about him. He came home for Christmas, and I saw him. My family claims it was the push-ups that won me over, but I think it was the enduring friendship combined with realizing that he was my match. And he could make me laugh. I think he cracks me up every day . We're opposite in many ways, but have many common interests. He balances me out. I balance him. And sometimes that is what makes our relationship difficult. But it is also the thing that has made me a better person. I would not be the woman I am today if it weren't for him.
We dated about a year and a half long distance. He was in California; I was in Pennsylvania. When the army told him he was probably being sent to Germany, I told him, I couldn't do the trans-Atlantic distance, so we decided to get married. It has been an interesting journey so far when I think of where we've been, what we've been through, and then I wonder where we're going. I suppose only time will tell. :)
Saturday, March 31, 2007
I will never ever understand the mind of a man...
...nor a man in training.
Last night, for the umpteenth millionth time in ten years, Joshua took on his father in a wrestling match. Sure, all boys wrestle their dads, but stubborn, determined boys wrestle their dads for two hours or more trying to win. That's my boy. He won't give up. I've watched more matches end with him so exhausted, his muscles are too fatigued to let him up off the floor. I think the longest match ended after nearly two and a half hours.
Now, I'm not certain how father/son wrestling looks in other homes, but in ours, Joshua tries to pin his father down, which almost always inevitably turns into him being pinned to the floor. The rules of the game suddenly change, now the object is for Joshua to become unpinned. The wrestling is rather "calm" so to speak. There isn't a whole lot of jumping and pushing and shoving. More like Jeremy holding the kid down, and the kid wriggling and squirming. Joshua gets into a position that almost secures his freedom, which would guarantee his winning "The Game," however Jeremy quickly repositions and gets Joshua pinned down again. Pinning doesn't necessarily mean Joshua's shoulders are to the floor, it just means he can’t get out from Dad's grip. Sometimes Dad is on the floor on his back and Joshua is lying on top of Dad held down by Dad's arms and legs. It's quite a game, and Joshua has never won, until last night.
This is the part where I don't understand the male mind. Joshua has never won. He even loathes to concede, but has in the past because he was too tired to go on, and he has cried when he had to do so. It doesn't matter that he gave his father's muscles a two-hour work-out, he can't see the positive that he didn't give up so easily. No, he has to win and he doesn't want anyone to "let" him win. He hates that, and always has. And the fact that he had never won "The Game" in the past makes him determined to keep trying. I've learned "The Game" is a bonding agent for him and his dad. I learned that "The Game" has taught Joshua his place in "the pack". He knows, for certain, that Dad is not to be reckoned with. He respects Dad more because of "The Game." He feels loved by his Dad because Dad plays "The Game" with him. It's a total battle of the wills on the floor of my living room and it looks completely different from when the girls wrestle with Dad.
The other interesting thing I observed last night, is that there are unspoken "rules" to this game. In one moment where Joshua was pinned down, he had relaxed his muscles for a minute to gather his strength and thoughts, and to try and catch his Dad off-guard before making yet another attempt at escape. We caught each other's gaze, and I tried to get him to tickle his Dad's arm pits.
"OHHHHHH NO!" Joshua chided me, "If I do that, then that means tickling can be included in the game. I'm not going there." I learned a new rule to "The Game."
I watched them tussle. I watched the clock. About an hour into "The Game", I started cheering for Joshua. He was so close to earning his freedom so many times, I couldn't stand it. I wanted him to win, just once. The mom in me just wanted my baby to win. Well, my cheering spurred on a new burst of energy, and he began to fight harder to get out. He squirmed and tried to break Jeremy's pose. Between his wriggling, and my cheering, Jeremy started to laugh, which distracted him well enough to allow Joshua to break free. He won. For the first time in ten years, he won "The. Game." Sweaty and panting, Joshua stood up on wobbly legs and stumbled a bit into the kitchen. He downed a glass of water and then tried to catch his breath.
"No fair," Jeremy said, "You made me laugh."
"All's fair," I retorted, "He can make you laugh to break free."
"No," Jeremy looked at me accusingly while still chuckling, "YOU made me laugh."
"Yeah, Whatever," I replied, "He still won."
"Hey Bud," Jeremy turned and looked at Joshua, "You've been waiting for that moment for ten years, haven't you."
Tired and grinning from ear to ear, Joshua nodded. I sent him upstairs for a bath and to get ready for bed. He slept in this morning. Gee, I wonder why?
Last night, for the umpteenth millionth time in ten years, Joshua took on his father in a wrestling match. Sure, all boys wrestle their dads, but stubborn, determined boys wrestle their dads for two hours or more trying to win. That's my boy. He won't give up. I've watched more matches end with him so exhausted, his muscles are too fatigued to let him up off the floor. I think the longest match ended after nearly two and a half hours.
Now, I'm not certain how father/son wrestling looks in other homes, but in ours, Joshua tries to pin his father down, which almost always inevitably turns into him being pinned to the floor. The rules of the game suddenly change, now the object is for Joshua to become unpinned. The wrestling is rather "calm" so to speak. There isn't a whole lot of jumping and pushing and shoving. More like Jeremy holding the kid down, and the kid wriggling and squirming. Joshua gets into a position that almost secures his freedom, which would guarantee his winning "The Game," however Jeremy quickly repositions and gets Joshua pinned down again. Pinning doesn't necessarily mean Joshua's shoulders are to the floor, it just means he can’t get out from Dad's grip. Sometimes Dad is on the floor on his back and Joshua is lying on top of Dad held down by Dad's arms and legs. It's quite a game, and Joshua has never won, until last night.
This is the part where I don't understand the male mind. Joshua has never won. He even loathes to concede, but has in the past because he was too tired to go on, and he has cried when he had to do so. It doesn't matter that he gave his father's muscles a two-hour work-out, he can't see the positive that he didn't give up so easily. No, he has to win and he doesn't want anyone to "let" him win. He hates that, and always has. And the fact that he had never won "The Game" in the past makes him determined to keep trying. I've learned "The Game" is a bonding agent for him and his dad. I learned that "The Game" has taught Joshua his place in "the pack". He knows, for certain, that Dad is not to be reckoned with. He respects Dad more because of "The Game." He feels loved by his Dad because Dad plays "The Game" with him. It's a total battle of the wills on the floor of my living room and it looks completely different from when the girls wrestle with Dad.
The other interesting thing I observed last night, is that there are unspoken "rules" to this game. In one moment where Joshua was pinned down, he had relaxed his muscles for a minute to gather his strength and thoughts, and to try and catch his Dad off-guard before making yet another attempt at escape. We caught each other's gaze, and I tried to get him to tickle his Dad's arm pits.
"OHHHHHH NO!" Joshua chided me, "If I do that, then that means tickling can be included in the game. I'm not going there." I learned a new rule to "The Game."
I watched them tussle. I watched the clock. About an hour into "The Game", I started cheering for Joshua. He was so close to earning his freedom so many times, I couldn't stand it. I wanted him to win, just once. The mom in me just wanted my baby to win. Well, my cheering spurred on a new burst of energy, and he began to fight harder to get out. He squirmed and tried to break Jeremy's pose. Between his wriggling, and my cheering, Jeremy started to laugh, which distracted him well enough to allow Joshua to break free. He won. For the first time in ten years, he won "The. Game." Sweaty and panting, Joshua stood up on wobbly legs and stumbled a bit into the kitchen. He downed a glass of water and then tried to catch his breath.
"No fair," Jeremy said, "You made me laugh."
"All's fair," I retorted, "He can make you laugh to break free."
"No," Jeremy looked at me accusingly while still chuckling, "YOU made me laugh."
"Yeah, Whatever," I replied, "He still won."
"Hey Bud," Jeremy turned and looked at Joshua, "You've been waiting for that moment for ten years, haven't you."
Tired and grinning from ear to ear, Joshua nodded. I sent him upstairs for a bath and to get ready for bed. He slept in this morning. Gee, I wonder why?
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Another step towards graduation
I picked up my cap and gown today and paid my diploma fee. I could have saved seven dollars by picking it up in person, but nah, I just went "What the heck...I'll give you seven more bucks! I've already spent a fortune at this school. Mail it to me!" I also got my six tickets and am hoping I can get some extra tickets, and I'm scared to death I'm going to lose the ones I have already. I put them in a "safe place" but you know how those "safe places" can be. So far, so good. I haven't missed any deadlines for getting my graduation stuff completed. All that is left is the senior exhibition, and then the rehearsal picnic. That reminds me, I need to take off work on that day. Wow, time is just flying faster than I can fathom.
It's Microlicious!
I have to admit, I've often wanted to microwave things just to see what would happen. Now I dont have to. My favorite? The christmas lights.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
They're coming to take me away ha ha!
Day 13 of quarentine.
It's been a long time since I've seen daylight or had a good night of sound sleeping. Child number two returned to school today. It was the first day in many that I didnt have all of them home with me coughing, sneezing, crying because the fever made their heads hurt. I've decided to change my name. I will no longer be "Mama" but I am unsure of what would suit as a replacement. "Fred" came to mind, but being monosyllabic, I realize that this too can be repeated over and over rather easily to the point of annoyance. Something more like "floccinaucinihilipilification" might be harder to say, and therefore difficult to repeat over and over and over and over again. Child number one remained at home with a low grade fever, which was just enough to make him feel restless and antsy. At the moment I continue to plot my getaway, however between nodding off and fits of delirium and hallucination produced by sleeplessness, I'm unsure if I'm coming or going. This makes escape much more difficult. Until tomorrow.
It's been a long time since I've seen daylight or had a good night of sound sleeping. Child number two returned to school today. It was the first day in many that I didnt have all of them home with me coughing, sneezing, crying because the fever made their heads hurt. I've decided to change my name. I will no longer be "Mama" but I am unsure of what would suit as a replacement. "Fred" came to mind, but being monosyllabic, I realize that this too can be repeated over and over rather easily to the point of annoyance. Something more like "floccinaucinihilipilification" might be harder to say, and therefore difficult to repeat over and over and over and over again. Child number one remained at home with a low grade fever, which was just enough to make him feel restless and antsy. At the moment I continue to plot my getaway, however between nodding off and fits of delirium and hallucination produced by sleeplessness, I'm unsure if I'm coming or going. This makes escape much more difficult. Until tomorrow.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Random mumblings
Well, I can take a big, deep breath now. I finished dying all 30 something of my skeins of yarn for the big project at school. Jeremy video taped me while I was dying, without my consent. But then, I saw how funny he was, so I allowed him to upload it. Just silly, very silly. I had just come home from teaching swimming lessons, my hair was wet, and I was wearing my very attractive dye clothes. I'm trying hard to not let that bother me.
And for anyone worried about the tri-beam scale being on my kitchen counters while I was doing my dying, don't. I was just measuring salt, common house-hold table salt. Hardly a toxic chemical. I mix and measure the really powdery stuff outside (brrrrr!). All my containers and measuring equipment is kept separate from my cooking/kitchen stuff. I'm very anal. Normally I do my dying outside, but since there is still snow on the ground, I was forced to do part of the process in my kitchen. Nothing goes in my kitchen unless it's already in liquid form, except the salt.
I use mostly fiber reactive dyes. They're cold-water, and relatively safe, chemical-wise. Just the power from the dyes is very light and airborne. I always wear a dust mask when I use them. I never would measure those in my kitchen.
I'm really pleased with the results. I will post a picture of the skeins once they are dry.
On the family side of things, Ruthie has to go to the doctor today. Her fever is better, but now that we're past the 72 hour mark, the dr wants to see her, the school wants a doctor's excuse. Joshua still feels pretty lousy too. It was a shame. The Mr had gotten free tickets to a jazz concert last night, but he and the kids couldnt go due to the illness. We just wanted Joshua to see a live jazz concert. Hopefully we can do something before Jazz Fest is over.
So, now I need a vacation...a long one. Between being up with sick kids, being up late dying fiber, trying to keep going, I'm ready to keel over. I'm just going to sleep the summer away. I can just feel it. May 12th can't get here fast enough!
And for anyone worried about the tri-beam scale being on my kitchen counters while I was doing my dying, don't. I was just measuring salt, common house-hold table salt. Hardly a toxic chemical. I mix and measure the really powdery stuff outside (brrrrr!). All my containers and measuring equipment is kept separate from my cooking/kitchen stuff. I'm very anal. Normally I do my dying outside, but since there is still snow on the ground, I was forced to do part of the process in my kitchen. Nothing goes in my kitchen unless it's already in liquid form, except the salt.
I use mostly fiber reactive dyes. They're cold-water, and relatively safe, chemical-wise. Just the power from the dyes is very light and airborne. I always wear a dust mask when I use them. I never would measure those in my kitchen.
I'm really pleased with the results. I will post a picture of the skeins once they are dry.
On the family side of things, Ruthie has to go to the doctor today. Her fever is better, but now that we're past the 72 hour mark, the dr wants to see her, the school wants a doctor's excuse. Joshua still feels pretty lousy too. It was a shame. The Mr had gotten free tickets to a jazz concert last night, but he and the kids couldnt go due to the illness. We just wanted Joshua to see a live jazz concert. Hopefully we can do something before Jazz Fest is over.
So, now I need a vacation...a long one. Between being up with sick kids, being up late dying fiber, trying to keep going, I'm ready to keel over. I'm just going to sleep the summer away. I can just feel it. May 12th can't get here fast enough!
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
These are the days...
...when I wonder where I'm going to find the strength to carry on as a mom.
First Hannah had the fever with a horrendous stuffy nose. It started in the 101's and by day three spiked to 103. Then Ruth got it (still has it). Her fever spiked yesterday. And when I thought it might be over, because Joshua never gets sick, and I mean never. Never say "never," though, because the school nurse called and told me his fever is 101.2. Gonna strap myself in for another rough four days. So much for making it to school tomorrow.
At least I'm getting the hang of this virus. Two days of 101-102 temps, third day of 103 temp, and then back down into the 101's until it breaks. Horrible stuffy nose, cough and nasty headache. The cold side of the virus lasts about week after the fever ends. Now, I am just praying Jeremy. and I don't get this. And if you live near by, I highly recommend staying away, unless you've already had it.
First Hannah had the fever with a horrendous stuffy nose. It started in the 101's and by day three spiked to 103. Then Ruth got it (still has it). Her fever spiked yesterday. And when I thought it might be over, because Joshua never gets sick, and I mean never. Never say "never," though, because the school nurse called and told me his fever is 101.2. Gonna strap myself in for another rough four days. So much for making it to school tomorrow.
At least I'm getting the hang of this virus. Two days of 101-102 temps, third day of 103 temp, and then back down into the 101's until it breaks. Horrible stuffy nose, cough and nasty headache. The cold side of the virus lasts about week after the fever ends. Now, I am just praying Jeremy. and I don't get this. And if you live near by, I highly recommend staying away, unless you've already had it.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
I hate cold season
Well, it is 12:09 am according to my computer clock and I'm feeling pretty lousy...too lousy to sleep. Thank you, Hannah.
Hannah has been sick for almost two weeks. First just stuffy, sneezy, stuff, then she had a fever over the weekend that lasted almost four days. Just when I was about to cry uncle and take her to the doctor, she recovered. Before anyone thinks I'm cruel waiting so long, I'll tell you this: her pediatrician will not see a child unless they've had the fever for a certain amount of time. Their definition of a fever is anything 101 degrees or higher. So, since for the third and fourth day her temp was only 100 degrees, I knew they wouldn't see her, or at the very least, make me cough up the co-pay only to say "She really isn't running a temperature. Give her some Tylenol cold to help alleviate the symptoms." Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.
Now, I don't bother to call unless they're dying.
So, because of the fever, Hannah wet the bed two, maybe three nights in a row. On the second night, I let her crawl into my bed. I can't lift the matress to change the sheets because of my herniated disc. And there was no waking Jeremy He could sleep through an atomic bomb raid.
BIG mistake. She was so congested she snored for about three hours straight. After trying to catch z's for most of that time, I decided I could make a bed on the floor for her in her room. I woke her gently, and walked her down the steps to her room, and made a bed. Then I proceeded to finish out the last hour before the alarm went off with out a snoring preschooler in my bed. Between being run down from lack of sleep, working like a dog on my project, and being contaminated by my child, I think I've caught it. It doesn't feel like my usual allergies, so I'm gonna guess it is a cold.
Well, now that I'm done whining, I suppose it's off to try and rest some before the alarm goes off.
Hannah has been sick for almost two weeks. First just stuffy, sneezy, stuff, then she had a fever over the weekend that lasted almost four days. Just when I was about to cry uncle and take her to the doctor, she recovered. Before anyone thinks I'm cruel waiting so long, I'll tell you this: her pediatrician will not see a child unless they've had the fever for a certain amount of time. Their definition of a fever is anything 101 degrees or higher. So, since for the third and fourth day her temp was only 100 degrees, I knew they wouldn't see her, or at the very least, make me cough up the co-pay only to say "She really isn't running a temperature. Give her some Tylenol cold to help alleviate the symptoms." Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.
Now, I don't bother to call unless they're dying.
So, because of the fever, Hannah wet the bed two, maybe three nights in a row. On the second night, I let her crawl into my bed. I can't lift the matress to change the sheets because of my herniated disc. And there was no waking Jeremy He could sleep through an atomic bomb raid.
BIG mistake. She was so congested she snored for about three hours straight. After trying to catch z's for most of that time, I decided I could make a bed on the floor for her in her room. I woke her gently, and walked her down the steps to her room, and made a bed. Then I proceeded to finish out the last hour before the alarm went off with out a snoring preschooler in my bed. Between being run down from lack of sleep, working like a dog on my project, and being contaminated by my child, I think I've caught it. It doesn't feel like my usual allergies, so I'm gonna guess it is a cold.
Well, now that I'm done whining, I suppose it's off to try and rest some before the alarm goes off.
Monday, March 12, 2007
A Ruthie tale
"I can't find my other Dora slipper!" Hannah whined.
"Go see if your brother can help you. I can't at the moment." I replied in my half-awake stupor.
Hannah bounded up the steps in her bright and cheerful morning manner. About five minutes later all three of my children reappeared before me giggling hysterically. I looked at my youngest's feet to see these ridiculously large soccer cleats on her feet. Delighting in the noise, she danced around the kitchen in them clacking while waving her arms about wildly.
"We couldn't find her other slipper, or her sneakers, so I put my old soccer cleats on her," Josh managed to say between snickers.
"Hmmmm," said Jeremy. dryly, "I think I know what Hannah is going to be when she grows up."
"A soccer player?" Josh asked.
"Nope," answered my man of little words, "A clown."
"Or a Canadian!" exclaimed Ruth.
"Go see if your brother can help you. I can't at the moment." I replied in my half-awake stupor.
Hannah bounded up the steps in her bright and cheerful morning manner. About five minutes later all three of my children reappeared before me giggling hysterically. I looked at my youngest's feet to see these ridiculously large soccer cleats on her feet. Delighting in the noise, she danced around the kitchen in them clacking while waving her arms about wildly.
"We couldn't find her other slipper, or her sneakers, so I put my old soccer cleats on her," Josh managed to say between snickers.
"Hmmmm," said Jeremy. dryly, "I think I know what Hannah is going to be when she grows up."
"A soccer player?" Josh asked.
"Nope," answered my man of little words, "A clown."
"Or a Canadian!" exclaimed Ruth.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
It's official!
The Hannah is registered for Kindergarten. She successfully charmed all of the staff at the school who did her evaluations. They now all want to take her home with her. I wouldn't be surprised to find out the teachers are fighting over which one of them gets to have her in their class.
While I sat out in the hallway filling out paperwork, Hannah went from classroom to classroom doing various activities such as writing her name, and cutting out a circle. When they returned her to me, at least three different teachers and assistants said to me "She's so much fun." "She's adorable." "She's really cute." Overhearing them, she decided to be even more funny and charming as we walked out the door by walking like a monster.
Kindergarten should be interesting with this one.
While I sat out in the hallway filling out paperwork, Hannah went from classroom to classroom doing various activities such as writing her name, and cutting out a circle. When they returned her to me, at least three different teachers and assistants said to me "She's so much fun." "She's adorable." "She's really cute." Overhearing them, she decided to be even more funny and charming as we walked out the door by walking like a monster.
Kindergarten should be interesting with this one.
Monday, March 05, 2007
The Boy pt 7? (Oh I dont know anymore...)
I hung out with a lot of guys when I was little. My first best friend was a boy who lived next door to me. I remember filling the back of his metal Tonka dump truck with cement with him as we played under the pine tree in his yard. I'm sure his mother was thrilled with us. After that, we moved to a neighborhood where my sister and I were really the only girls of our age. So, of course, we played games little boys would like to play: cops and robbers, space ship, etc. Somehow we always ended up the robbers, or the aliens, the bad guys.
When I was a teenager, all of my friends, with the exception of my sister, were guys. I'd watch them wrestle each other, try to jump off their parents' porch roofs, and have "manliness contests." My sister and I labeled them "manliness contests" because one guy would do some stupid stunt, and then the next guy had to one-up him, and then the next would one-up him as well. It could be anything from, who had more chest hair, to who could do more chin-ups, push-ups and sit-ups. Next thing we knew, they had a adopted the name for themselves. My now-husband was one of the gang. Before we were dating, when he had returned from the Army for a visit, one of the guys said, "Ooh, he's been through basic. Lets see what he can do now! Manliness Contest!" Then they all proceeded to see who could do more push-ups.
I never understood until I had my own son why my father would say, "We men are such bone heads."
All of Josh's young life thus far has been filled with impulsive actions. He never thinks. He does. At four, he found the matches and nearly torched the entire neighborhood. At five, he cut the cord to the phone line with scissors and then proceeded to wail, "Why do I do the things I do?". At six, he decided to pop-a-wheelie on his scooter while going down our very steep hill. He was covered for about two weeks with head to toe scrapes and scratches. I have found our basement foam ceiling tiles completely disintegrated. He has broken and destroyed many of my nice things and his toys. He has nearly taken his own life on many an occasion attempting to do dangerous stunts that, I suppose, he determined would be fun. Once, he and his friend convinced his best friend's little brother to stand on the swing. Then they pushed the swing and continued to keep it in motion by hitting the swing with wiffle ball bats. The little brother has me to thank for saving his life.
I looked back at the stupid things my guy friends would do, then look at my son, and notice his grand ideas aren't that much different from some of the things my friends did. Then I polled my female friends and ask them if they would have done any of the stunts I have been privy too, and they give me this shocked and horrified look like I'm some alien. That's when I decided my kid must be normal, and this must be a "boy thing."
We go through periods where he lacks more impulse control than other times. Currently, we are in one of those times. The latest phrase in the house is, "Is that a GOOD idea? Or a BAD idea." Usually this question alone will stop the activity that had been currently set in motion.
This morning I heard a funny noise as I combed my hair. I figured it was Josh who was supposed to be making lunch. It sounded like something was sawing through something else. I hollered down, "I don't know what you are doing, Son, but I want you to tell me...Is what you're doing a GOOD idea? or a BAD idea?" I still haven't found out what he was doing, but he immediately stopped. There are some things I don't want to know.
Then later I was doing my business in the bathroom. I heard a very loud knocking so I asked, "What do you want?"
"Oh I wasn't knocking," Josh replied.
"Then what were you doing?"
Sheepishly he answered, "Something that was a bad idea..."
When I was a teenager, all of my friends, with the exception of my sister, were guys. I'd watch them wrestle each other, try to jump off their parents' porch roofs, and have "manliness contests." My sister and I labeled them "manliness contests" because one guy would do some stupid stunt, and then the next guy had to one-up him, and then the next would one-up him as well. It could be anything from, who had more chest hair, to who could do more chin-ups, push-ups and sit-ups. Next thing we knew, they had a adopted the name for themselves. My now-husband was one of the gang. Before we were dating, when he had returned from the Army for a visit, one of the guys said, "Ooh, he's been through basic. Lets see what he can do now! Manliness Contest!" Then they all proceeded to see who could do more push-ups.
I never understood until I had my own son why my father would say, "We men are such bone heads."
All of Josh's young life thus far has been filled with impulsive actions. He never thinks. He does. At four, he found the matches and nearly torched the entire neighborhood. At five, he cut the cord to the phone line with scissors and then proceeded to wail, "Why do I do the things I do?". At six, he decided to pop-a-wheelie on his scooter while going down our very steep hill. He was covered for about two weeks with head to toe scrapes and scratches. I have found our basement foam ceiling tiles completely disintegrated. He has broken and destroyed many of my nice things and his toys. He has nearly taken his own life on many an occasion attempting to do dangerous stunts that, I suppose, he determined would be fun. Once, he and his friend convinced his best friend's little brother to stand on the swing. Then they pushed the swing and continued to keep it in motion by hitting the swing with wiffle ball bats. The little brother has me to thank for saving his life.
I looked back at the stupid things my guy friends would do, then look at my son, and notice his grand ideas aren't that much different from some of the things my friends did. Then I polled my female friends and ask them if they would have done any of the stunts I have been privy too, and they give me this shocked and horrified look like I'm some alien. That's when I decided my kid must be normal, and this must be a "boy thing."
We go through periods where he lacks more impulse control than other times. Currently, we are in one of those times. The latest phrase in the house is, "Is that a GOOD idea? Or a BAD idea." Usually this question alone will stop the activity that had been currently set in motion.
This morning I heard a funny noise as I combed my hair. I figured it was Josh who was supposed to be making lunch. It sounded like something was sawing through something else. I hollered down, "I don't know what you are doing, Son, but I want you to tell me...Is what you're doing a GOOD idea? or a BAD idea?" I still haven't found out what he was doing, but he immediately stopped. There are some things I don't want to know.
Then later I was doing my business in the bathroom. I heard a very loud knocking so I asked, "What do you want?"
"Oh I wasn't knocking," Josh replied.
"Then what were you doing?"
Sheepishly he answered, "Something that was a bad idea..."
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Can I scream?
I am the worlds biggest klutz with the worlds worst luck. I tangled my warp, and in the process ended up sacrificing 60 ends of warp and a couple of skeins of rayon yarn. That was very sad, but at least I was able to salvage the other skeins and the rest of my warp.
So tonight, I was untangling and balling up the remaining hand-painted skeins. I just finished struggling with the purple, when I picked up the ball, and accidentally dropped it...
...into peanut's cup of water.
I knew the ball of yarn wouldnt dry up well in a ball form. I started to skein it back up so it would dry, when the middle of the ball came undone and proceeded to tangle itself with the rest of the wet yarn. Since it was wet, it didnt want to untangle. And since it was half skein, half ball...well there went another 200 yards of yarn.
Sigh.
I really had trouble keeping my language clean.
I think I need to just go to bed and try again tomorrow.
So tonight, I was untangling and balling up the remaining hand-painted skeins. I just finished struggling with the purple, when I picked up the ball, and accidentally dropped it...
...into peanut's cup of water.
I knew the ball of yarn wouldnt dry up well in a ball form. I started to skein it back up so it would dry, when the middle of the ball came undone and proceeded to tangle itself with the rest of the wet yarn. Since it was wet, it didnt want to untangle. And since it was half skein, half ball...well there went another 200 yards of yarn.
Sigh.
I really had trouble keeping my language clean.
I think I need to just go to bed and try again tomorrow.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
MMMmmmm Chocolate
Dark Chocolate M & M's are going to be the death of me. It's like eating a handful of chocolate chips, only the candy coating gives that satisfying crunch. They had them in a local convenience store. I thought they were a promotional item and I figured they probably wouldn't be around long. I was mostly right. Apparently they're here to stay (yay!) but it can be difficult to find a bag of dark chocolate M & M's sometimes. That is, until I discovered Staples, of all places, sells them...in large...purple...bags. *drool*
First the family needed some lined notebook paper. Then we were out of pencils. Printer cartridge ink? I can go get that!
Needless to say, I've been finding reasons I must go into Staples.
"Hmm...says here on my sheet I need fifteen copies of a hand-out for my research presentation. Shucks. I guess I'll have to go do that at Staples."
"You could print them off our computer," retorted the Mr.
"Nah, I dont want to use up that expensive printer ink."
"Uh-huh. Sure," he replied unconvinced.
"Mama, are you going to go get some more dark chocolate M & M's?" asked Ruthie.
"Um, why...no...what on earth would make you think that?"
Um, no. I'm not addicted, or anything. I can...stop...whenever...I...I...I...
Does anybody need anything from Staples?
First the family needed some lined notebook paper. Then we were out of pencils. Printer cartridge ink? I can go get that!
Needless to say, I've been finding reasons I must go into Staples.
"Hmm...says here on my sheet I need fifteen copies of a hand-out for my research presentation. Shucks. I guess I'll have to go do that at Staples."
"You could print them off our computer," retorted the Mr.
"Nah, I dont want to use up that expensive printer ink."
"Uh-huh. Sure," he replied unconvinced.
"Mama, are you going to go get some more dark chocolate M & M's?" asked Ruthie.
"Um, why...no...what on earth would make you think that?"
Um, no. I'm not addicted, or anything. I can...stop...whenever...I...I...I...
Does anybody need anything from Staples?
Send in The Clown
When I was four,
and my sister two,
we sat around,
not much to do.
A cat so white,
a canvas clean,
Barbie head make-up,
was it so mean?
Circus we played.
We needed a clown.
The cat was just purrfect
We pinned him right down.
First came the pink,
and then came the blue.
It just seemed so clear;
We knew what to do.
But soon mom came in
and started to hiss.
She didn't fault me;
she blamed little sis.
It was my idea,
later she found,
to make the white cat
into our own clown.
The cat survived,
I'm happy to say.
Our rear ends hurt
to the very next day.
(c) 2007
and my sister two,
we sat around,
not much to do.
A cat so white,
a canvas clean,
Barbie head make-up,
was it so mean?
Circus we played.
We needed a clown.
The cat was just purrfect
We pinned him right down.
First came the pink,
and then came the blue.
It just seemed so clear;
We knew what to do.
But soon mom came in
and started to hiss.
She didn't fault me;
she blamed little sis.
It was my idea,
later she found,
to make the white cat
into our own clown.
The cat survived,
I'm happy to say.
Our rear ends hurt
to the very next day.
(c) 2007
Saturday, February 17, 2007
This semester's projects:
It's my last semester of school, so why should it be any different from the others? Well, if anything, it IS more enjoyable if for no other reason than I only have fibers classes and I LOVE what I do.
Here's what's in the project queue:
For Non-loom, I'm wrapping black bath towels with copper wire. It's part of an on-going series called "Metamorphosis." The concept is to take common items that are used for every day activities and re-purpose them. Whether or not others think they're "beautimous" or not, I cannot say, but I'm enjoying the project. I made two several years ago, one hung in a show this past summer. But the Mr. said I wasn't allowed to make any more of these sculptures unless I could find a way to wrap the fabrics without his help. He held the variable speed drill for me. Hours and hours of wrapping hundreds of strips of cloth. So, I figured out how to use my spinning wheel. Tons of fun. Here's a couple of pics from the first two in the series:
This was the first sculpture, Metamorphosis I. It's made out of wrapped Upholstery fabric. I was imagining stripping a couch down to nothing while I made it.
Here's what's in the project queue:
For Non-loom, I'm wrapping black bath towels with copper wire. It's part of an on-going series called "Metamorphosis." The concept is to take common items that are used for every day activities and re-purpose them. Whether or not others think they're "beautimous" or not, I cannot say, but I'm enjoying the project. I made two several years ago, one hung in a show this past summer. But the Mr. said I wasn't allowed to make any more of these sculptures unless I could find a way to wrap the fabrics without his help. He held the variable speed drill for me. Hours and hours of wrapping hundreds of strips of cloth. So, I figured out how to use my spinning wheel. Tons of fun. Here's a couple of pics from the first two in the series:
This was the first sculpture, Metamorphosis I. It's made out of wrapped Upholstery fabric. I was imagining stripping a couch down to nothing while I made it.
The next in the series is made from dyed and wrapped T-shirt material. This is the one that hung in a show:
This is me and Eeyore standing next to it. I was told people were touching it on the sly. Every time I went in, the piece was misshapen and the info desk helper told me the why. Now, for a fibers artists, that's a high compliment! I always want my work to look so inviting and playful that people just have to touch it. Or they want to feel it because they want to know what it is made of.
They are purposefully vessel shape referring to the scripture where we are all "jars of clay." The concept is primarily that of transformation when we invite Jesus into our lives and make him Lord. Our minds, thoughts, actions, are completely re-shaped by the Holy Spirit if we allow. We go from something recognizable (i.e. a t-shirt, bath towel, sofa, etc) to the world as something completely different, (the finished sculpture) through God's transforming power. It's abstract, I know, but I kind of think the whole concept of our spirit becoming alive through Christ is rather abstract as well, else why would Nicodemus question what Jesus meant by being "born again?" (John 3:4)
I'm not sure how my next piece will turn out. It's beginning to cost me a fortune. ha ha. Who knew wire could be so expensive!
For Weaving, I'm finishing up my Fatherless series.
I made the second of the series last semester (no pictures of it yet), and at the moment, I'm about to warp my loom at home with the third in the series. The figures are supposed to be somewhat abstract. I purposefully left them featureless, and humanoid looking for several reasons. The child is supposed to be gender-neutral. I want the viewer to be able to insert themselves into the picture. Secondly, the weaving is made from a technique called Spanish Lace. It's rather delicate looking in person. There is supposed to be this feeling of unraveling or disintegration. A normal "portrait" would have all of the features drawn in and be more realistic. The colors are predominantly mono-chromatic because the subject is supposed to be rather bleak.
Why Fatherless? It speaks about two conditions, our physical condition and our spiritual condition. On a surface level, I'm attempting to make a social commentary about our single parent society. Don't get me wrong, if you're a single parent, it's a tough job. But there's this whole mentality in society that says "Dads aren't important." Or if a Dad is portrayed in the Media, he's a doofus or an idiot. Look at the Fathers in Rug Rats, or Jimmy Neutron. Look at the Fathers in any sit-com. When did Dad's become so unimportant? Then you have weekend dads, or those Dad's who are just such good dads they drive all the way to such-and-such a place to get their kids to and from school, and spend a whopping 9 hours a week with their daughter, leaving behind the other daughter because "she's too young yet." So Dad is there, but not there...that's why the portrait is without detail, incomplete. I am hoping to depict an incomplete relationship.
The second, deeper meaning is more spiritual. It is really speaking about the time in my life where, spiritually speaking, I was Fatherless. I ran around waiting for God to smite me with his angry discipline for all the things I did wrong. My relationship with God was like these weavings, fragile, and without detail. Somewhere in my mid-twenties, I came to realize that He loved me. I can't even put into words that discovery. It's one thing to know with my head I'm loved, but its a whole other thing to understand and feel it in my heart that I am treasured, valuable, made this way on purpose for a purpose, "altogether beautiful, there is no flaw in you," "dark but lovely." My responses to Him became less religious (doing it for the sake of being "good" or "right") which failed all the time, to wanting, no deeply desiring to follow his ways because I wanted to express my love back. A love response. When I was going through this time in my life, I began to draw. Those sketches led me back to school as I sensed God wanted me to get them out to the world. So when I went back to school, I ended up starting at the beginning of my sketchbook. My earliest sketches were titled "My Abba, My Daddy." I had a great father, the best Daddy a little girl could ever be given. When I realized that my Abba was even better, well, I just still have trouble fathoming it sometimes. But I felt that before I could depict what the relationship could look like, I had to show what our current condition is.
Each piece is a little more unraveled, a little more unwoven, a little more fragile. It's been very frightening to be so inexperienced as an artist and to try and replicate the same weaving three times.
My last weaving project is not as deep. I'm merely making a very large abstract with Spanish lace and plain weave. Mostly, I'm doing it to work out a few ideas before trying to put imagery into it. Can I make it sculptural? How much work is it to make a gianormous weaving (I'm about to find out!)
I've woven some functional pieces in between, a shawl, a scarf, stuff that I do for fun and enjoyment. Not that my artwork isn't fun, it's just more "work." I have to think, plan, and design more, and sometimes after all that, it doesn't turn out well at all. My functional pieces give me satisfaction that they can be used and enjoyed. My non-functional serve as my therapy.
Hopefully, I'll have pictures later. I'll have to go bug my sister. She's the photographer for the two above Metamorphosis pieces. She has amazing talent, and took my entire portfolio last year. Well, I've made a few more things since then, so it might be time for another mega-photo session. Here's hoping it's not so cold and breezy this time. ;-)
Thursday, February 15, 2007
So Yesterday was Valentines Day...
Ugh. Please gag me. My counter-culture artist self cannot stand holidays created for commercialism sake. This is the one day of the year made so that men can forget and women can hold it against their men. Really, if a person needs a day for their love to show extra affection, well, I'm terribly sorry. I guess I'm just horribly lucky. I'm shown a lot of love and affection every day, so to me, Valentines day just doesn't stand out amongst the 364 other days my guy tells me I'm special and important to him, through his actions, and sometimes through his words.
My guy isn't terribly romantic. He doesn't say sweet romantic things all the time. He doesn't do "romantic" things by societies standards. I can't remember the last time I received flowers. (Maybe two years ago?) We don't have a "song." He doesn't leave me sweet little notes everywhere. But what he does do is greater than flowers and chocolate. He loves me, flaws and all. And believe me, my guy puts up with a lot from me, for example, my hysteria when I panic. These are things that probably would have brought another man to his knees.
He cooks. He cleans. He takes care of the kids. He lets me sleep when he's exhausted and needs to sleep too. He sacrifices his needs and comfort to make me comfortable. He reassures me when I'm feeling uncertain. He does laundry. He works hard, day after day, to provide for the family. He allows me to be home with the children and lets me know that my job is just as important as his. He not only supports my art, but he's enthusiastic about what I do and puts aside everything to help me reach my goals. Funny and sweet, he's also very very very affectionate. He's my best friend and someone who I can confide in.
Not that I have a perfect life, because I don't believe anyone truly can. We can make the best of the choices we made, or we can sit around and think negatively about them, how it was, what a mistake we made. Instead he and I spend a good bit of energy keeping each other first, even above the kids (sacrilegious I know!) We have our "couch time" almost every night. And the children know, during that 15-30 minutes that we're "connecting" and catching up on each other's day, they cannot interrupt. We make time to have "dates" even if it means putting the kids to bed and then ordering take-out and eating at home.
After so many years, I have found some who find their relationship boring. For us, we find we're just starting to mesh and that makes it fun and interesting. It's almost a game to predict what is going to happen next. We know each other so well, he knows what my next move is. I know his. He gets a kick out of my being able to predict him. Last night, we had a tickle fight. Calling a "truce," he went into the kitchen. However, after 12 years of being married to this man, I knew he was actually standing around the corner, crouched with one of his weird expressions on his face. I don't remember what I did, but when he realized he wasn't going to be able to surprise me, he burst out laughing. We laughed so hard my sides hurt. Tears were streaming out of his eyes. That doesn't sound terribly boring to me.
When I chose to look at the glass half empty, I was miserable with my relationship. I'd see young love all around me and reminisce about how he used to stop and pick flowers from the side of the road and then think "What happened?" But I forgot to look at the fact that some where in the middle of these past twelve years together, we'd been to hell and back again. The funny thing about going through fire together, it either eats you alive, or refines and purifies the relationship. For us, it has been the latter. Our clay vessel has been fired, tested, and now stronger than ever. I stayed with him for the sake of our kids, knowing I couldn't bear the thought of what splitting up would do to their little psyches. I determined if I had to, I'd be his roommate. At the very minimum we were still very good close friends. I determined I could live forever with this man as a good, close, friend, a mere roommate. But I also determined i wasn't going to just settle for that. And I redefined what happiness and love looked like.
I learned that happiness is a state of mind that can be completely controlled. I could chose to be happy despite my circumstances, or I could be miserable and give up. I discovered that love is NOT a feeling, it is a choice, it is an action. You CHOOSE to love or you CHOOSE not to. Sometimes the feeling is there. Sometimes it's not. It's what people do during the times when that "love" feeling is absent really determines whether or not they are in "love" or in "infatuation." I realized a relationship cannot survive on infatuation alone. I learned that love means loving fully and not holding back anything, even when the other person has cut the heart to the quick. I found that as much as we can love someone, sometimes a line has to be drawn in the sand. I discovered Jesus' love for me, and in turn, I realized I had to show that same love for my guy. I didn't know that the end result of my discoveries would be so beautiful.
So, in the end, I don't really need a holiday to tell me how good I have it. I don't need trinkets and sweet nothings to know that he loves me. He fought long and hard to keep me, and I fought long and hard to keep him. We sacrificed our selfish wants for each other, for our children. And to me, that is a greater gift than something that will wilt and die in a matter of days.
Could we slip and fall again? Sure. Anything is possible if we let our guards down. But that's just how love is, that's why it's an action word and not a feeling. If love isn't fed and cared for, it will slowly fade away until one day the realization sets in that it's gone. But the wonderful thing about love is, it can be found again, and again, and again, if given the chance. It's an everyday thing, not a Valentines Day thing.
My guy isn't terribly romantic. He doesn't say sweet romantic things all the time. He doesn't do "romantic" things by societies standards. I can't remember the last time I received flowers. (Maybe two years ago?) We don't have a "song." He doesn't leave me sweet little notes everywhere. But what he does do is greater than flowers and chocolate. He loves me, flaws and all. And believe me, my guy puts up with a lot from me, for example, my hysteria when I panic. These are things that probably would have brought another man to his knees.
He cooks. He cleans. He takes care of the kids. He lets me sleep when he's exhausted and needs to sleep too. He sacrifices his needs and comfort to make me comfortable. He reassures me when I'm feeling uncertain. He does laundry. He works hard, day after day, to provide for the family. He allows me to be home with the children and lets me know that my job is just as important as his. He not only supports my art, but he's enthusiastic about what I do and puts aside everything to help me reach my goals. Funny and sweet, he's also very very very affectionate. He's my best friend and someone who I can confide in.
Not that I have a perfect life, because I don't believe anyone truly can. We can make the best of the choices we made, or we can sit around and think negatively about them, how it was, what a mistake we made. Instead he and I spend a good bit of energy keeping each other first, even above the kids (sacrilegious I know!) We have our "couch time" almost every night. And the children know, during that 15-30 minutes that we're "connecting" and catching up on each other's day, they cannot interrupt. We make time to have "dates" even if it means putting the kids to bed and then ordering take-out and eating at home.
After so many years, I have found some who find their relationship boring. For us, we find we're just starting to mesh and that makes it fun and interesting. It's almost a game to predict what is going to happen next. We know each other so well, he knows what my next move is. I know his. He gets a kick out of my being able to predict him. Last night, we had a tickle fight. Calling a "truce," he went into the kitchen. However, after 12 years of being married to this man, I knew he was actually standing around the corner, crouched with one of his weird expressions on his face. I don't remember what I did, but when he realized he wasn't going to be able to surprise me, he burst out laughing. We laughed so hard my sides hurt. Tears were streaming out of his eyes. That doesn't sound terribly boring to me.
When I chose to look at the glass half empty, I was miserable with my relationship. I'd see young love all around me and reminisce about how he used to stop and pick flowers from the side of the road and then think "What happened?" But I forgot to look at the fact that some where in the middle of these past twelve years together, we'd been to hell and back again. The funny thing about going through fire together, it either eats you alive, or refines and purifies the relationship. For us, it has been the latter. Our clay vessel has been fired, tested, and now stronger than ever. I stayed with him for the sake of our kids, knowing I couldn't bear the thought of what splitting up would do to their little psyches. I determined if I had to, I'd be his roommate. At the very minimum we were still very good close friends. I determined I could live forever with this man as a good, close, friend, a mere roommate. But I also determined i wasn't going to just settle for that. And I redefined what happiness and love looked like.
I learned that happiness is a state of mind that can be completely controlled. I could chose to be happy despite my circumstances, or I could be miserable and give up. I discovered that love is NOT a feeling, it is a choice, it is an action. You CHOOSE to love or you CHOOSE not to. Sometimes the feeling is there. Sometimes it's not. It's what people do during the times when that "love" feeling is absent really determines whether or not they are in "love" or in "infatuation." I realized a relationship cannot survive on infatuation alone. I learned that love means loving fully and not holding back anything, even when the other person has cut the heart to the quick. I found that as much as we can love someone, sometimes a line has to be drawn in the sand. I discovered Jesus' love for me, and in turn, I realized I had to show that same love for my guy. I didn't know that the end result of my discoveries would be so beautiful.
So, in the end, I don't really need a holiday to tell me how good I have it. I don't need trinkets and sweet nothings to know that he loves me. He fought long and hard to keep me, and I fought long and hard to keep him. We sacrificed our selfish wants for each other, for our children. And to me, that is a greater gift than something that will wilt and die in a matter of days.
Could we slip and fall again? Sure. Anything is possible if we let our guards down. But that's just how love is, that's why it's an action word and not a feeling. If love isn't fed and cared for, it will slowly fade away until one day the realization sets in that it's gone. But the wonderful thing about love is, it can be found again, and again, and again, if given the chance. It's an everyday thing, not a Valentines Day thing.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Poems
Many years ago all I did was write poems. Mostly, I wrote to allieviate the angst I was riddled with for many, many years. Sometimes I wrote when I was inspired. Somewhere in the midst of college, getting married, having kids, I've left that hobby behind, until recently. So, below, find a recent poem or two, and some from nearly 14 plus years ago.
Eek!
slither! thrash!
thump! bash!
three am
what's in my trash?
eek! a snake!
eating cake
looked at me
half awake
scream and shriek
another EEK!
broom to snake
I feel weak.
slither away
from the fray
back to bed
to sleep till day
(c) 2006
thump! bash!
three am
what's in my trash?
eek! a snake!
eating cake
looked at me
half awake
scream and shriek
another EEK!
broom to snake
I feel weak.
slither away
from the fray
back to bed
to sleep till day
(c) 2006
Basic Instinct
So hence, we find ourselves caught up
in this whirlwind of life.
We love our friends, hate our enemies
And state the obvious whether it lies afore or behind.
And then,
we wonder why we were placed upon
this so-called-God-forsaken-planet
if this is our only cause of life-
this pain.
...
Deep within the wells of our hearts
we ache with passions
now unfamiliar to us
while our souls cry out amidst our toils
"Abba! Father!"
only to forget again while peace
surmises to visit.
...
Yet somehow we know,
deep within our being.
our inner-selves,
that there truly is a Greater One.
And by denying ourselves of Him
and believing ourselves the better
we, in turn, lie to ourselves
and in the end
take the knife.
(c) 1993
in this whirlwind of life.
We love our friends, hate our enemies
And state the obvious whether it lies afore or behind.
And then,
we wonder why we were placed upon
this so-called-God-forsaken-planet
if this is our only cause of life-
this pain.
...
Deep within the wells of our hearts
we ache with passions
now unfamiliar to us
while our souls cry out amidst our toils
"Abba! Father!"
only to forget again while peace
surmises to visit.
...
Yet somehow we know,
deep within our being.
our inner-selves,
that there truly is a Greater One.
And by denying ourselves of Him
and believing ourselves the better
we, in turn, lie to ourselves
and in the end
take the knife.
(c) 1993
(Going) Crazy
The Clowns, The Clowns,
The happy, slappy
silly Clowns
...
Go Round, Go Round,
The happy, slappy
Clowns go round
....
A Mound, A Mound,
The happy clowns
go round a mound.
...
They Found, They Found,
The Clowns go round
A mound they found.
...
No Sound, No Sound,
around the mound
they make no sound.
...
Fall Down, Fall down,
Onto the ground
the Clowns fall down.
...
My Head, My head,
the happy, slappy
Clowns are dead.
(c) 1993
Margaret
Even after Spring has fled
will you still think of me?
Remember love as it had led
us on a path from land to sea
and back again so that
my heart knew not when to cry
here nor there. So then I sat
and wondered, pondered, questioned why
life has to be so cruel
and take the one desire
of mine and play me for the fool
to hold the candle's fire
and watch it slowly die
as the mark of time draws near.
Oh me. Oh my, Oh sigh.
I do not like living in this fear...
Now that you have gone
And only a name to think upon.
(c) 1993
will you still think of me?
Remember love as it had led
us on a path from land to sea
and back again so that
my heart knew not when to cry
here nor there. So then I sat
and wondered, pondered, questioned why
life has to be so cruel
and take the one desire
of mine and play me for the fool
to hold the candle's fire
and watch it slowly die
as the mark of time draws near.
Oh me. Oh my, Oh sigh.
I do not like living in this fear...
Now that you have gone
And only a name to think upon.
(c) 1993
Untitled
I caught a rainbow one fine day
to show you all its light.
The colors were so crisp and fine,
and bold and brisk and bright.
...
But the red went through my hand,
as did the blue and yellow.
The purple, green, and orange, pink,
went to another fellow.
...
So all I've got is broken dreams;
no gift to give to you.
For one cannot hold onto things,
not meant to be held onto.
(c) 1992
Untitled #2
The soft, sweet, sounds of Spring
sang smoothly in Sarah's ear.
But silently slithered the Snake
that sought to sell her son to
the Spartan for a small sight of
Serphim.
And sparing only her senses,
she set up on the Snake.
Stepping so, she severed
the serpent's head, saving the
soul for her soup.
And spread it forth onto the sand to be
swept away by the sea
leaving only
the Sins of Man.
(c) 1991
sang smoothly in Sarah's ear.
But silently slithered the Snake
that sought to sell her son to
the Spartan for a small sight of
Serphim.
And sparing only her senses,
she set up on the Snake.
Stepping so, she severed
the serpent's head, saving the
soul for her soup.
And spread it forth onto the sand to be
swept away by the sea
leaving only
the Sins of Man.
(c) 1991
A Sister's Revenge
Rosebud
gently kissed
the thorns
of sorrow
surrounded
by the
sounds of
happiness,
love,
peace,
and
understanding.
But never will
she know
the true
meaning
because
locked in
the vault
of her mind
is the dead
Mr. Kay.
(c) 1991
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Meet Ho-ha, our invisible family member
I've mentioned Ho-ha in previous posts. I thought I'd introduce him to the world.
Ho-ha came to live with us when Hannah was about two years old, a rather young age to invent an imaginary friend. It was also the same year she named her purple plush bunny rabbit, "Goat." Ho-ha quickly became a friend for reasons of security. He had to go everywhere with us. Hannah would insist upon it, and cry if we "forgot Ho-ha."
Ho-ha fits into the average sized pants pocket. It's his preferred form of travel. He's mischievous, but has never done anything seriously wrong. He likes to make jokes and play pranks on people. He says very silly things from time to time. Hannah, worried about Ho-ha's ability to stay home alone, carried Ho-ha in her pocket for at least a year until Ho-ha and I could convince her he was big enough and brave enough to be home. He's a bit of a home-body and would rather not go out when he doesn't feel like it. Sometimes he comes with us, but because he can be rather shy, will decide to stay in the car.
Ho-ha doesn't eat a whole lot and doesn't take up a whole lot of space. We just have to be careful not to sit on Ho-ha. Since he's invisible, and rather small, he's easy to miss. Thankfully, he's rather resilient. Even when squashed, he seems to bounce back.
"You sat on Ho-ha."
"No I didn't, he's sitting right there," I insisted in one conversation.
"No he's not. You sat on him. You have to get up Mama," Hannah replied more adamant.
"Look, see. I can see Ho-ha right here. He's sitting next to me eating a granola bar."
"OH!" Hannah answered. " I didn't see that. He's so small. Silly Ho-ha."
Silly Ho-ha. Hannah calls him silly a lot. I wouldn't really know. I don't converse with Ho-ha like she does.
Ho-ha enjoys playing lots of games, tag, hide and seek, games like that. He loves to swing on the swings. Chick-fil-A is Ho-ha's favorite restaurant. Sometimes Ho-ha sneaks downstairs in the middle of the night for a snack. Sometimes Ho-ha is afraid of the dark.
At times Ho-ha goes away and we think he most likely won't come back this time. But somehow he always does. Lately, he's been a little more subdued. Someday, when Ho-ha and Hannah go their separate ways, I think I'm going to miss him. ;-)
Ho-ha came to live with us when Hannah was about two years old, a rather young age to invent an imaginary friend. It was also the same year she named her purple plush bunny rabbit, "Goat." Ho-ha quickly became a friend for reasons of security. He had to go everywhere with us. Hannah would insist upon it, and cry if we "forgot Ho-ha."
Ho-ha fits into the average sized pants pocket. It's his preferred form of travel. He's mischievous, but has never done anything seriously wrong. He likes to make jokes and play pranks on people. He says very silly things from time to time. Hannah, worried about Ho-ha's ability to stay home alone, carried Ho-ha in her pocket for at least a year until Ho-ha and I could convince her he was big enough and brave enough to be home. He's a bit of a home-body and would rather not go out when he doesn't feel like it. Sometimes he comes with us, but because he can be rather shy, will decide to stay in the car.
Ho-ha doesn't eat a whole lot and doesn't take up a whole lot of space. We just have to be careful not to sit on Ho-ha. Since he's invisible, and rather small, he's easy to miss. Thankfully, he's rather resilient. Even when squashed, he seems to bounce back.
"You sat on Ho-ha."
"No I didn't, he's sitting right there," I insisted in one conversation.
"No he's not. You sat on him. You have to get up Mama," Hannah replied more adamant.
"Look, see. I can see Ho-ha right here. He's sitting next to me eating a granola bar."
"OH!" Hannah answered. " I didn't see that. He's so small. Silly Ho-ha."
Silly Ho-ha. Hannah calls him silly a lot. I wouldn't really know. I don't converse with Ho-ha like she does.
Ho-ha enjoys playing lots of games, tag, hide and seek, games like that. He loves to swing on the swings. Chick-fil-A is Ho-ha's favorite restaurant. Sometimes Ho-ha sneaks downstairs in the middle of the night for a snack. Sometimes Ho-ha is afraid of the dark.
At times Ho-ha goes away and we think he most likely won't come back this time. But somehow he always does. Lately, he's been a little more subdued. Someday, when Ho-ha and Hannah go their separate ways, I think I'm going to miss him. ;-)
Friday, February 09, 2007
You give me fever!
It's that time of year again...sniffling, sneezing, coughing, wheezing...and fevers.
On Wednesday I received "mom of the year" award. I insisted Ruthie was fine enough to go to school. At around 10:30 they called the mr. and he came and picked her up. Her temp was well over 100 degrees. On Thursday, there was no sign of the temperature going down, so I kept her home again. I forgot to call the school to let them know she would be out, so they called me...talk about a new experience. I guess I'm glad to know that if your child plays hookie in the second grade, they're on top of it. What's even more sad, is that there are enough parents out there that don't care if their child goes to school or not, that they have to make the phone calls in the first place. I can only figure there were enough people just letting their elementary school aged children cut that they had to employ this system.
But I digress. So, yesterday, Ruthie ended up spending half the day with my sister. I was planning on canceling Hannah's swimming lesson, but I knew I couldn't cancel our Allergy Shot (not without serious repercussions) and I was hoping to not cancel Joshua's drum lesson. I have a wonderful sister. She offered to keep Ruthie for that long so that Hannah could go to her lesson as well. That made Hannah's day considering this is the highlight of her week. A few weeks ago she told me, "Swimming is MY sport." Hannah owes her aunt a HUGE thank you.
Unfortunately, today Hannah is feverish, so we're both home from school today. I guess I'll get some dying done, as well as some much needed laundry.
On Wednesday I received "mom of the year" award. I insisted Ruthie was fine enough to go to school. At around 10:30 they called the mr. and he came and picked her up. Her temp was well over 100 degrees. On Thursday, there was no sign of the temperature going down, so I kept her home again. I forgot to call the school to let them know she would be out, so they called me...talk about a new experience. I guess I'm glad to know that if your child plays hookie in the second grade, they're on top of it. What's even more sad, is that there are enough parents out there that don't care if their child goes to school or not, that they have to make the phone calls in the first place. I can only figure there were enough people just letting their elementary school aged children cut that they had to employ this system.
But I digress. So, yesterday, Ruthie ended up spending half the day with my sister. I was planning on canceling Hannah's swimming lesson, but I knew I couldn't cancel our Allergy Shot (not without serious repercussions) and I was hoping to not cancel Joshua's drum lesson. I have a wonderful sister. She offered to keep Ruthie for that long so that Hannah could go to her lesson as well. That made Hannah's day considering this is the highlight of her week. A few weeks ago she told me, "Swimming is MY sport." Hannah owes her aunt a HUGE thank you.
Unfortunately, today Hannah is feverish, so we're both home from school today. I guess I'll get some dying done, as well as some much needed laundry.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Green Faced Monsters?
Ruhtie has been dying to use a mud mask. I have no idea where she learned about them, but she has begged and begged to try one. So, for Christmas, I stuck a tube of St. Ives Mud Mask in her stocking. Instantly, this became her most favorite gift. Go figure. I spent hours trying to figure out what to give her for Christmas, and she would have been plenty happy with just the mud mask.
Unfortunately, we haven't had time to apply the mask until tonight. Hannah joined in the fun. I captured the event with my older camera since my newer camera is still broken. If you look closely, you can get a general idea of what our living room now looks like, though the paint looks more yellow in the picture. It's actually a cream color with yellowish undertones. It's not finished yet, pictures still need to be hung, as does the surround sound. Knick-knacks need to find homes, that sort of finishing touches have to be made. Most of this stuff is still sitting on top of the entertainment center. However, we did unload a ton of stuff at Goodwill yesterday. Ahhhhh that feels good.
Enjoy:
(I'm not sure I can tell who is the bigger ham...Ruthie or Hannah...)
Monday, January 22, 2007
Peanut and Ho-ha
Tonight Hannah came tip toe-ing through the living room with her hands curled like claws. Watching her, Jeremy asked, "Why are you doing that?"
Hannah started to giggle, embarrassed. "I was trying to sneak up on Ho-ha," she replied.
Ho-ha is her imaginary friend she's had since she was two.
I needed that laugh.
Hannah started to giggle, embarrassed. "I was trying to sneak up on Ho-ha," she replied.
Ho-ha is her imaginary friend she's had since she was two.
I needed that laugh.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Videos videos everywhere
I wish there was a better way to upload and share videos without having to share them with the world. I tried You Tube's private video feature, however I couldnt figure out how to just allow only my family to view them. Oh well. At anyrate, I finally uploaded two videos I made a couple of months ago piecing together clips and photos from the spring and summer. I do like big-band. But the real reason both clips have big band music as a soundtrack is because it was the only CD's I could find at the time of creation. ;P
Color Day! (May 2006)
Swimming! (June 2006)
Color Day! (May 2006)
Swimming! (June 2006)
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Ikea...now that's an idea!
The mr. and I have found a new favorite store: Ikea. It's been a few years since I was at Ikea. I remember going there once as a little kid to get shelves with my folks. I had no idea how cool of a store it would be. There was even a place to drop off the kids where they got their face painted, watched movies, played on some indoor playground equipment, and were, in general, very disappointed when we were done shopping. Yes. We actually shopped in peace. It was great.
We went to Ikea on new years eve day looking for bookshelves, a dresser, and a loft bed for The Boy. His room is very small and we figured putting his bed up high would give us floor space for a dresser. Up to this point, his clothes have been in the hall closet and in under the bed boxes. He had one tiny dresser that barely fit his undies and pajamas. So we found a cool bed and a nice six drawer dresser to fit underneath. We bought two bookshelves for our room that we laid on their sides.
Now, normally, we're not too thrilled about put-together-furniture, but we have found that Ikea furniture is fairly idiot-proof. I say "fairly" because, obviously, they've never met this idiot. When we assembled the bed, I handed the mr the wrong end caps for the bottom of the bed. So when he put the end caps in the tops of the bed, there wasn't a hole for the screws. An hour or so later, he managed to pull the endcaps out (which were very snug) and put them in the right place. BUT in order to do that, we had to disassmble the entire bed. Sigh. Otherwise, it would have gone off without a hitch. The mr., who calls himself anti-handiman, even managed to assemble the bookshelves in our room in about 40 minutes. I was impressed.
The whole furniture purchase is part of a big re-arrange, de-clutter project in the house. The mr. took a week off from work to do it too. Our living room will hopefully feel less crowded after this re-do. I still have to paint the walls and pick up an entertainment center thingy from Sara. My legs and arms are so stiff from hauling things to and fro. Hopefully, by the time the semester starts up again, I'll still be able to walk.
We went to Ikea on new years eve day looking for bookshelves, a dresser, and a loft bed for The Boy. His room is very small and we figured putting his bed up high would give us floor space for a dresser. Up to this point, his clothes have been in the hall closet and in under the bed boxes. He had one tiny dresser that barely fit his undies and pajamas. So we found a cool bed and a nice six drawer dresser to fit underneath. We bought two bookshelves for our room that we laid on their sides.
Now, normally, we're not too thrilled about put-together-furniture, but we have found that Ikea furniture is fairly idiot-proof. I say "fairly" because, obviously, they've never met this idiot. When we assembled the bed, I handed the mr the wrong end caps for the bottom of the bed. So when he put the end caps in the tops of the bed, there wasn't a hole for the screws. An hour or so later, he managed to pull the endcaps out (which were very snug) and put them in the right place. BUT in order to do that, we had to disassmble the entire bed. Sigh. Otherwise, it would have gone off without a hitch. The mr., who calls himself anti-handiman, even managed to assemble the bookshelves in our room in about 40 minutes. I was impressed.
The whole furniture purchase is part of a big re-arrange, de-clutter project in the house. The mr. took a week off from work to do it too. Our living room will hopefully feel less crowded after this re-do. I still have to paint the walls and pick up an entertainment center thingy from Sara. My legs and arms are so stiff from hauling things to and fro. Hopefully, by the time the semester starts up again, I'll still be able to walk.
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